Terre-Haute Weekly Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 1 December 1869 — Page 1

AN ENGJ-ISH ITEWSTAPEB seriously inform* its readers that a year's residence in Chicago entitles all married couples to divorces npon application.

7 I A BOSTON PAPER speaks of a man so bad that passing counterfieit money was' ''the most virtuous act of his life." That' fellow will do for an illustration of "total depravity." I

TirpJfofal Amount paid "Sl^armjT/efrfiiohere, during the last fiscal rear, is 627,992, 868 04, and to navy pensioners, $150,010 01—a grand total of§28,422,884 08. The whole number of pensioners is 187,964, and they are paid at fif.y-nine agencies.

at. .a THE Journal is oioo-ed to hav-nganv of tlie Democracy of Vigo county nominated for State officers, and to this end urges the trotting out of "a few more candidates,"' because "the more we have, the less chance there will be to get a nomination." The conclusion is sound.

IT IS believed that we shall show a population of certainly forty millions, at the next census. If tlie number of members of Congress be not increased, it will make the ratio of reprcspnta'ion considerably higher—say 161,000 in place of 127,000 and thus losestome members to the older States.

IF THE cdtimate,of four and a half per. cent, a* the cost of collecting the Imcnal Revenue is at all accurate—anil such is said to be the computation at tlie Treasury Department—the expenses under Commissioner Dlcr.ANO must have been, materially diminished, while he has been so largely increasing the gross receipt* to the Government.

"PROMINENT rouTfiAX-s" have done something l» hurt the feelings ol (he 'journal, whereat that sensitive organ whines piteously, but fails to name tlie immediate cause of its woe. What's the matter? Who has stepped on the Journal!* corns? And why was it done? Will our afflicted neighbor expv.tiate on the interesting theme?

DR. LIVINGSTONE'S last African discovery is a tribe that lives altogether in underground houses. Some excavations are said to be thirty miles long, and have running rills in them. A whole district can stand a seigc in them. The "writings" therein, lie lias been told by some of the people, are on wings ol animals, and nor letters. They are said to be very dark, well made. Geographers and ethnologists will look with impatient interest for further information concerning this remarkable people.

MR. .JOHN RrsiciN lias looked though all the attractions which the world has to offer, anil come So the conclusion that there is neither comfort nor con.-o'.a ion to man except through some regular and useful pursuit. He deifies .vork, a.s the heathen did other things. The experience (if a man like' Mr. Rrsivix ought to be worth something oilie.'s. He is not at all slow to declare life a failure in his own case, and says that all that can prevent its becoming so to every one is the devotion of it to useful labor for o.hei*. Neither satisfaction nor repose is lobe found in any other way. 3--LJ.

TIIE STATEMENT of the number of passengers arriving in this country during the year ending .June :40, 1H!, just published, shows the number of immigrants to be otiO passengers not immigrants 37,(.IS2. Of the immigrants the nationality most largely represented was tlie German, which numbered 1.'2,-V!7 the Irish come next and number (i-l,9.'8. The occupations of the immigrants were mainIv unskilled laborers and those without trades being largely the majority. This class of labor is already too abundant in our large ci ies, and the only field o]en to it are the boundless and as yet untitled prairies of the West, and thither we hope is will go.

THERE is a good bint for maiiy selfconsc(|ueuiial gen'lenien in .his remark of (he Missouri Dnnorratj Testy, narroXv, iy noran anil conceited lellows soineiimes f^icv that they can drive out ol the partv t'vervbodv who diflers liom iheio in any opinion. They imagine that the party exists only to register their edicts, lhe I nub is thai the.Republican party owes its existence to its liberal spirit, its tolera I ice of minor differences in sincere co-op-cr'.tionfor broad and liberal objects, li would not con inue to exist an ho'ir il it should lose those eliarac'eristics. It i^ true there are some Republicans who have no svmpathy wiih its liberal spirit or its independence ot thought, lor good reason, no doubt, they have a holy horror of anv man with idea* of his own. l'ut they are not the Pepuhliean party, and cannot control it, although, like lites on the coach wheel, they sometimes fancy that all the dust is of (heir raising.

THE PRESENT SYSTEM of patching up our streets with material that will not "stand the pressure" of a single storm, doing work that has to be done over again in a few weeks, is a sample of "pennywise and pound foolish" economy unworthy of intelligent guardians of the public interests. Money enough has already been thrown away in this manner to have made good progress in durable pavement, and still the waste goes on, year after year. We have known a man to spend thousands of dollars in patching up and "improving" an old, tumbledown house, and yet. never have a decent dwelling. Our city fathers seem to have

adopted his system as their model in the

matter of "street improvements." There is no prospect of any change in this respect, and we can only advise all our city readers, of both sexes, to procure stilts and learn to use them. 1The Street Commissioner appears to be doing the best he can, with the means at his disposal, and we are sure that it is not a pleasant thing for him to throw away the people's money, as he is compelled to do. ———<>———

AI.LI'IUNC. to the approaching St a election, the tJouni'i' thus sketehc the condition of the Democracy: "As formerly, the whole hive of politicians, from'the big king bees to the drones, are busy at work laying plans to accomplish their purposes."

Without stopping to com in en: upon the phenomenon in natural history presented hv "busy drones," we will remark for the information of our Republican friends that the whole Democratic "hive is hi a state of unusual activity, and that preparation* ae being made for a very thorough canvass. Stimulated by their near approach to victory at the las! Statee.ection, the Democracy will use every possible effort to overcome the majority against them and gain control of the State government. Thorough organization and efficient work on the part of Republicans will be absolutely indispensable, and these will, of course, be had.— Indiana Republicans know the cnem\ strength and tactics and will go through campaign of 1S.0 with the sjiiuc and do'erminition ilia* have solent ni tti^ \ic fi.iv in tlie pa*?.

ANDREW .JOHNSON proposes to spend the winter in Washington, prompted by that strange impulse that often compels great criminals to linger around the scene of their crimes. It is not a new pha-e of human nature, being frequently mentioned fry writers of that class of novels in which the

ALASKA is. becoming civilized with astonishing rapidity. It is said that a cargo of smuggled whisky was recently brought into San Francisco from Alaska, through the connivance of Government officials. -When-we hear of a skilful bank robbery or an astounding defalcation in Sitka we shall know that SEWARD'S purchase is a valuable acquisition to the United States.

VERMONT is ambitious of becoming a manufacturing State, and has therefore passed a law exempting from faxation for five years all manufacturing establishments hereafter to be erected within its borders, and all the capital and machinery used in their operation, also the capital and machinery put. into buildings already erected, but not now used for manufacturing purposes—wherever the capital amounts to one thousand dollars or more a man. ,fi"\ rr.-T.*

A DR. JARVIS of lioston has been guessing at the results of our Ninth Census which will be taken next Summer—probably in June. He guc-ses that the to^al population of the United States (excluding Indians not taxed) will be 39,013,115, whereof 4,($54,418 will be colored. As the total population in 1800 was 31,448,790, the estimated increase exceeds eight millions, and. is considerably above twentyfive per cent. The Tribune thinks that, considering that we have had four years of desperate, bloody civil war in this decade, this increase must be deemed remarkable, even admitting that we owe a good share of it to immigration.

THE WASHINGTON CORRESPONDENT of the Philadelphia Enquirer gives a very interesting account of the three swords, formerly the property of the traitor General Twtcc.s, which shows that, in the attempt to arrest General IluTLi-li. for taking the weapons, there was some very hard swearing done by somebody. As the Knrjiiircr justly remarks, this is precisely one of those suits that Congress should pass a law to protect Union officers against. The claimant of the swords swears, in effect, that General 13I:TI.ER appropriated them to his own use. while a lettcT from General I'.fTt.ER, and another from Mr. LiNi'oi'N',

K!IO\V

•1 1 iivi fawn*

Uniied States Christian Commission, reorganized under the name of the American Christian Commission, for the purpose of "awakening the attention ot the Christian public to the urgent need of evangelising the multitudes not yet reached Indirect Christian labor using for this pur­

pose

the press, public meetings, local organizations, and other suitable means." (Juicily and judiciously it has introduced this system of conventions into almost every Northern State. The Commission does not in any sense manage the conventions, but simply prompts the people to do it themselves and renders any assistance which its greater experience enables it to give, and which the people may desire.

These conventions are in no sense ecclesiastical bodies but all the denominations technically called "evangelical" are invited to send delegates. They are composed largely of laymen, or, at least, a prominence is given to The. lay element not common in ordinary religious bodies. Their purpose is a practical one, and relate''not to doctrine, but to methods of work. The zealous workers in the different churches and religious organizations, come together and discuss the best methods of doing the appropriate work of the Church. Men of experience are thus brought together, and the results of their experience are made available to many who desire to do Christian work, but do not exactly know how.

As an evidence of an increasing spirit of charity among those who, too often in the past, have been bitter rivals, these conventions must give pleasure to all, both in and out of the churches, who believe in, and wish well the. Christian religion.

The Convention which is to be held in this city early in December, promises to be one of no ordinary interest. A number of prominent Christian laymen, both in and out of the State, have signified their intention to bo in attendance, and of course lhe clergy will be fully represented. We hear the names of such men .as D. L. Moonv, of Chicago, CHAKI.KS

COFFIN, of Richmond, Col..TOIIN W. R.VY of Indianapolis, and many o:her laymen of less note, mentioned as sure to attend. The churches in this city, we are informed. arc '-ojK'Va ing in preparing for its alven'. We give thf Convention lhe rot'gh old miner'* benedic.bn. "May i! Lord tukc likiivi lo you."

laWS.

TKRMSW.no A YEARjf M^

"blood-and-thunder

element in most prominent.

that they were sent to our

late murdered President, and that he tinned them over to Congress. Tint perjurv to injure a Union soldier is a small matter.

Christian Convention.

"We have long been familiar with conventions of almost all sorts, good, bad and indifferent. In fact it is very natural and proper., that those who have common interests or common purposes, should meet for consultation concerning these.— In business, politics and reformations, this plan of meeting in convention is in almost constant practice, and has been for years. So, too, have there been gatherings of religions bodies, but these ordinarily have been of the nature of ecclesiastical courts—placcs whence come decrees and decisions—rather than assemblages of lhe people for consultation. These bodies, too, have been composed of those in agreeirfifent upon some denominational point, great or small.

Hut tlice Christian Conventions- have come into vogue within a few years. Thcv are an outgrowth of the intimate mingling of (hiistians of diflcrent denominations during the war,Christians at home working and praying together for the good cause, and Christians in the lield working, fighting and praying together for the nation's life. In this intimate minglingChristiaiH learned the fact that there were good, earnest and devout men in all the branches of the Christian church, and they lasted the pleasure of going outside their denominational walls now ami then. Coingont thus, they often came back with some rich fruit which did not grow in-ide their own walls. In this wax diflcrent denominations came to respect each other more, and to imitate one arto.her's good qualities. At lhe close of the war, that noble institution, respected by every soldier, and by many regarded as ilie means of saving their lives, the

JIT LITTLE «XE.

A PRAYER.

'.BY EDGAB FAWCETT.

God bless my little one! How fair The mellow lamp-light gilds his hair, Loose on the cradlc pillow there, God bless my little one

God Guard my little one to me, Life, widowed of his life, would be As sca-^ands, widowed oithc.sea, -i God guard my little one! •sit. God love my little one! As clear. Cool sunthine holds the first green spear On April meadows, hold him dear! God lore my little one!

When these fond lips are mute, and when I slumber, not to wake again, (tod bless—God guard—God lore him then, My little one! Amen. —Merry a Museum for November.

INCOMPATIBLE.

BY A. W. H. HOWARD.,

Tom and I were absolutely certain that we should never quarrel after we wefe married. We knew very well that some married people did quarrel sadly, and that almost all differed more than was entirely comfortable: this knowledge forewarned us, and, after discussing the subject thoroughly, we felt that we were forearmed as well as forewarned.

Tom admitted that he had beared such words pass between his father and mother a0ie should be very sorry to think would ever pass between us, but he said it was entirely unnecessary ever to have any difference amounting to a quarrel. Of course, people who had as positive temperaments as we both had could not agree entirely and at once, but a little concession would smooth away all difficulties and for his part, he should always be happy to make any concessions which I should demand. 1 thought Tom talked very well, and immediately assured him that so far as I was concerned he never would have to make any concessions at all upon which lie declared, with a most impassioned kiss, that my will should always be his law.*

I thought over this conversation, which took place just a week before we were married, by myself, after Tom had gone, and I must say he seemed a rare treasure to me fori could not recall another man among my acquaintances who was givento making concessions to the women oi his household.

There was my father. Of course I loved father very much, but grown-up daughters are not always entirely blind to their fathers'peculiarities, and it did seem to me that he took delight in ploughing through and uprooting all mother's tastes and fancies.

Mother was English and of the Episcopal Church, and always wanted to observe Christmas, but father never would hear to it, because his ancestors came over in the "May Flower." lie was proud of the grim Puritan record of the iirst Christmas in this country: "And so no man rested at all that duy," It was, in his eyes, a glorious protest against princely and prelatical tyranny and. I agreed with father and kindled with enthusiasm when he talked of the beginnings of Congregationalism, and of the gtand days when Milton was its poet and Cromwell its hero yet, for all this, I thought it was hard and bigoted in father Vot to let mother keep her own festival. So, when we children grew up, we brought about a sort of compromise. At Thanksgiving, which father celebrated with great zeal, we trrmmed the house with evergreens and holly till it was like a bower we had blazing wood-fircs in every room, and added roa.st beef to the feast hitherto sacred to turkey-anp chick-en-pie. The plum-pudding being adapted to both festivals, was not displaced and when mother said, with a gratified loook, that it seemed qnite English, we were triumphant. We felt that we had gained a great victory for her, and that we had got the better of father without hurting him. Father was an editor—a very influential man, generous in his way, especially kind to all young writers, and very chivairic toward all women in his office and at his writing-desk, but he did rage around most •uncomfortably at home.

Mother said his literary life affected his nervous system, and so took particular pains to make his home cores light. I did not quite approve of mother's course: I thought it would do father good if. would she occasionally pay him back in his own coin but she ncver'did, and never seemed to care about his being on such very good terms, as he was, with a great many pretty women but sister Mary and I, who thought married ueoplc, in order to be liappv, must be tMBking of each other every moment, used to get quite jealous for her. ".Mother," said sister Mary on one occasion, "do you like to have father write to that pretty Mrs. C'olburn quite so much as he does?" "1 don't know as he write- to her any more than she writes to him,"' replied mother, indifferently. "But, mother," said I, taking up the strain, "do you like to have father write so much to pretty woman, any way?" "Girls," said mother, "I like anything that diverts your father and if these pretty women take up his attention, do, for niercey's sake, let them write." '•But, mother," persisted Mary, "if you were to die, and father should take it into his head to luarrv Mrs. Colbnrn, what should we do? Maggie and I should perfectly hate her. I almost know she could catch father if she wanted.to, and of course she would, for father Is handsome.''

Well," said mother, laughing, "in that case I hope Mrs. Colbnrn will stop writing, and take particular pains to see that the steak is never overdone, and that the water is always boiling the instant vour fathor wants to shave. And now, children," said sli3, with a look that made us feel as if we wore bibs and drank milk out of little cups, "I never want to hear a word of this nonsense again. Your father and 1 arc old enough to take care of ourselves and you too and she left us with an angry flash in her eye which father's most dvspeptic grumblings never called forth.

That very afternoon father was brought in senseless", after having been dragged half a mile by his horse: mother's agony was fearful, and it was terrible to see l'athr's handsome face to pale and rigid.

Then consciousness came back, and he stretched out his arms to mother, exaiming, "Oh, Mary, l,thought of you long as I could think of anything and they wept together, and murmured words of deeper tenderness than young lovers ever dream of.

Sister Mary and I ran away to Cry together. "Oh, Maggie," said she, with a blubbering voice, "it is his nervous system, and lie rfoes love mother af er all and how she loves him! and what /Ws we were to think lie cared a solitary st.-air for that Mrs. Colburn!"

I remembered this scene in father's favor, but it was pleasant to think that Tom would not only love me as well as father did mother, but would always be comfortable at home, \s hieh father certainly was not, even after this accident.

Then my brothers passed in review. Mother, Mary and 1 made all the concessions to them. Tliey always hurried and worried ns and once, when Henry was going to Bast on to spend the Fourth of Julyj he nearly brought the house down about our ears because his shirt lnvom was not nicely ironed as if in a Boston crowd anybody would notice his shirt bosom—or him, either, for that matter. But sister Mary, who, in the illness of our laundress," was responsible for the ironing, said Henry acted as if his shirt bosom were to be the principal piece in the fireworks. Brother Edgar was no better. He hurried Mary so about a picnic on this same Fourth of July that she went with a boot on one foot and a slipper on the other and they were so early that when Henry drove back to get the other boot, he met the first express-wagon with its load of provisions, and Mary had the whole grove to herself while she finished her toilette.

With such experiences in the past, it was not strange that this conversation with Tom about quarreling and conceding was especially delightful to me, and made mv future look uncommonly bright.

Tom and I had known each other for vcars, and had !n an "iinuerntanding"

rERBE HAUTE ml)IANA WEDNESDAY

for a long time. I had been away all summer, only coming home in season for this Thanksgiving-Christmas sort of festival of which I have spoken.

I wore white alpaca, trimmed with scarlet velvet, and holly berries in my hair. I danced constantly, and I never felt in finer spirits, for Tom was there, more devoted to me than ever, and I knew I was looking my best. At last some one called for vocal music, which made a pause in the dancing. (This dancing was another point which we had carried for mother against father, but I will say for father that when he found he could not help it, lie (submitted with a good grace.) Feeling a little chilly, I threw a scarlet shawl over my shoulders. I think this sliawl brought'Tom to terms, for as Ipame into the room his eyes met mine with a light kindling in them which made my cheeks the color of my shawl. In an instant he had crossed the room and had drawn me into the library, used that night for a cloak-room,* and in fifteen minutes we were engaged. I remembered the time, for as we crossed the hall I looked at our tall clock wreathed in evergreen, and it struck ten: I was in a llelirium_oi excited feeling, longing to be alone with Tom, yet fearing it was all a happy dream, whert fister Mary called me to come and give one last look at the sapper-table. (TheSupper-table at a time like this!) Coming out, the tall clock came again exactly in my line of vision, and it was quarter-past ten only fifteen minutes, and yet an age of bliss! To this day the sight of a tall clock with the hands at quarterpast ten makes all the chords of memory thrill. "The table looks beautifully, I am sure," said I, in a dazed kind of way after we got into the dining-room. "You and Tom are engaged," replied Mary, closing the door ana holding the handle. "Oh, Mary!" said I. "Well, -von are," said Mary. "Tom looked, when you came out together, as if lie never had seen a woman in all his life: that look always means love and kissing. So now, Maggie, if you don't contradict it in one second, I shall tell everybody, and we shall make one job of the suppef and the congratulations. "Oh, Mary," said I again, but I could not contradict it and Mary was as good as her word, 'lhe congratulations^ only ended with the last good-bye that night.

I was just twenty years old—a pronounced brunette, very slender, with what people called a gracefiil figure, and hands and feet that all'the men praised and all the women envied. Tom was twenty-six, with chcstnuf hair, which curled thickly all over his handsome head and I must confess that when the sun shone fairly upon these beautiful curls they had a suggestion of red about them: he had fiery hazel eyes, and of course the impetuous, dashing temperament which goes with such hair and eyes—a splendid temperament for a lover, whatever it may be for a husband. Everybody said we were a verv stvlish couple, and that- there was no reason why we should not be very happv. "We were married on New Year's day, my outfit for a winter in New York being turned into a trousseau when Tom declared he could not and Would not wait and, as we had known each other so long, there really seemed to be no cause for delay.

We were to go to Boston to live, and when some one condoled with mother on the separation, she replied, cheerfully "Oh I think it is better for young married people to be by themselves—for the first year, at least so we were sent forth witli a cheerful "good-bye" and "God bless you," and the old life wits ended and the new one begun.

Tom and I were liappiem in our- own fresh, tastQful and even elegant home than we had ever imagined we could be but after a little time we found that we differed very decidedly upon some points, and I was surprised to see that if Tom had not forgotten his old doctrine of concession, he often ventured to ignore it.

I wanted to go to a Congregational church, but Tom declared for Episcopacy. I cotild not find my place in the FravcrBook, nor did I know when to rise nor when to sit. An Episcopal service was a severe experience, and

and apparent devotion were quite exasperatihg to me. Then Tom was to scientific, and I was not: he wanted to go scientific lectures, which I detested while I wanted to go to literary and patriotic courses, which he absurdly called "sensational." lie dragged me through one course upon astronomy, which was a sad penance to me, but I never complaindd till he to me, but I never complained till he brought out a tremendous book upon The Origin of the Sturx, which lie wanted me to read when he was down town. I dare say it- would have been a most excellent book for me, for "Twinkle, twinkle little star: •"•How 1 wonder what you are,

Up above the world so high. Like a diamond in the sky!

was all I knew about astronomy but, unfortunately, it was all 1 wished to know so I openly rebelled against The Origin of the Stars.

Then of chemistry, which was

Another

pet science with Tom, I Only knew that my old chemistry at school used to tell about oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen and I had a vague idea that some of these were healthy and some were not. Tom to be sure, went with me to my favorite lectures, but tliey seemed about as hard for him to bear as his were for me.

At length I thought I would talk with Tom about it, and if need be, remind him that my will was to be his law. So one afternoon, as we were crossing the Common to call on Mrs. Foster, Tom's aunt by niarrige, I said: "Tom, vou don't like to go to my lectures." It was a mild afternoon, and both Tom and I were as genial as the weather, fori had a new hat, and looked very well in it, and Tom had just told me so. "Olives, Maggie," replied Tom, gallantly, "I like to go anywhere with you." "No, Tom, you do not," I replied "and I feel it." "I certainly do, Maggie," responded

Tom. "No, Tom, you do not, and I should like it better if vou admitted it." "I do, I say," said Tom, in an irritated tone. "Can't vou believe me?" "q1i, Tom,""said I, "you arc positively cross." "Well, you needn't give me the lie, then," replied, he savagely. "Oh, Tom!" I exclaimed, cut to the heart, "I never thought—1 never meant to sav such a thing." "Well, you said it plainly enough," retorted Tom, contcmptously. "Now come in and see' ifvou can be as civil to Mrs. Foster as you are tome,' "Oh, Tom," I replied, "let us go home: I can't go in—I shall die if I do.'' "We'll seejf you will," said Tom, pill ling me into'the parlor, where I burst into tears at once, and sobbed a if my heart would break* "What is the matter?" said Mrs. Fo tor, deluging me with cologne and almost choking me with salts.

Nothing," said Tom, "only Maggie ha got very much excited." Now," every man knows that telling a Woman she is excited is the most intensely aggravating thing he can do. •"Excited!"' I screamed. "He says I told him he lied, and I never thought of such a thing, and he knows it!" "There it i« again," said Tom, sarcastically, without any regard for my dis. tress.

I'oor Mrs. Foster looked greatly trou bled. "You mnst

try

ure in doing so and then he began a little whispering whistling of "Yankee Doodle," which he kept up all the way home, as if determined toshow all the contempt he could for me.

For aught I could see, Tom was becoming as bad as my father and brothers, and this, too, when he had explicitly, and of his own accord, promised to concede.' It was only four months—four 1 viie months —since "that promise, sealed with that impassioned kiss, and now I was expected to find my highest pleasure in submitting to his will.

One thing was certain: Tom had to.da lie, whether I had "given" it to him him or not. If he would tell a lie about one thing, why not about another—why not about everything? My days of happiness were over, for it was plain I never could trust Tom as I had done.

I had entirely forgotten that I had told him, with equal sincerity at the time, that he never would have to make any concessions to me, and that it was this lamb-like sentiment wliich had called forth his final declaration and kiss. I thought we should have a wretched time after this walk, which began so pleasantly and ended so sadly, but diversion came from an unexpected source.

Esther Flanders and her brother Philip came i» lo pass the evening: I liked Esther very much, but her brother I had never seen before. He vras a most captivating man. "Captivating" is just the word to describe him. He took ones judgement, taste and fancy by storm: such line manners, such rare culture, such delicate tact I had never seen united in one person, and although Tom and I were in such a miserable state, he succeded in calling us out' wonderfully. I was conscious that I had never talked so well, nor had I ever sung and played better than I did with this magnetic stranger to turn the' leaves for me.

Tom was pleased with his evident but respectful admiration of me, and told me, with a half attempt at reconciliation, that he was quite proud of me, for Philip 1' landers was the most fastidious and critical man he knew, and that he especially admired a woman who talked well, and I certainly did. I was not much gratified by Tom's praises, for I could not understand how he could so soon get over our storm of the afternoon: lie seemed to have done so, however, and never alluded to it again but it rankled in my mind, and with every difference—we had them pretty often now—a sense of my wrongs in this matter of concession flared up afresh. But 1 forgot my" wrongs when with Philip Flanders and, indeed in his presence I forgot everything but music, culture and the gifted man who sang so well, and for me, alone, for he was often in of an evening and it so happened that his calls came on Tom's club evenings rather more frequently than at any other time. It was very pleasant, and I did not always tell Tom when he had been with me: I did not want to tell him everything, as at first, and by degrees I found mvself thinking quite as much of Philip Fianders and his sympathy in any emergency as of Tom.

One evening, when Tom and I had exchanged some unusually hard words as hard, I fancied, as those which he told me, at the timeof tjie concession proposal, he had heard pass between his lather and mother—Tom strode out thrcJngh the front parlor, cxclainiing angrily, "Don't try sulking v.'ith me—1 am not the fellow to stand it," just as Philip Flanders entered the back parlor noiselessly, to find me sobbing almost hysterically. I was sure he had heard Tom's last words: how much more I could not tell.

It would take a very high principled man—which Philip Flanders was not—of lhirtv-five( Phillip's age), or of iil'ty-iive,or ofsixty-live, or indeed of any age to which man ever attains, to find a young and pretty woman in such a plight and not wish to console her with mere tenderness than

would

Tom's"readiness

be altogether prudent. Philip

soon drew ill my misery from me, and then said, in his most thrilling tones, hoiding my eyes meanwhile with his own fixed and magnetic gaze: "How strange that we should both be so wretched—vou with your hurband and I atone! 1 have seen this from the first: you

and

your husband are not well match­

ed: lie does hot understand the requirements of your nature. You are reallyincompatible." "What can I do?" I cried, for I had not defined the ca^c so clearly in my own mind. ,. "Do! Nay, poor child, replied lie, slowly and pitinglv, "I will help you bear our "burden: perhaps I can lighten it a

Itle. I have no wife, nor do I wish for one now. We will be more than friends, it a compact?" he asked persuasively.

I felt entirely powerless, and at that instant lie pressed a burning kiss upon my

"'A strange feeling of exhilaration, which mistook for happiness, came with this kiss, and I thought my troubles were over ut when Tom came home that night,

II hearty, and clubby, and smoky, I felt remorseful aversion to hini which I had never known before, and which was farther from happiness than the hardest quarrel would have been.

It seems to me that the next few weeks ..ere passed in a sort of delirum when not directly under Philip's influence, I Was constantly wondering what father and mother and Mary and llenry and Edgar would think of all this, If tliev could onlv understand it, thev would not blame liie, for Philip placed the subject before me in the most sophistical light but, oniehow or other, 1 always felt that tliey never could be made to understand it: so was glad they did not know it, and I had vague wish that the old quarrelsome days we did not quarrel now—with Tom were back, and that I had never heard of Philip Flanders.

At length I broke down in a nervous fever, and afterthe crisis was past, as I lay weak and helpless, I overheard the doctor say to Tom. "Your wife is in a very poor way: she must have change.j^She must go into the country, or I cannot answer for the consequences.' "You don't think it is anything serious?" said Tom in a husky voice, which made me almost love him again. "I can't say: I hope not, 1 am sure but I thought it was mv duty to tell you this much,"said the doctor in a business-like wav, as he left the room.

Tom opened the door softly and bent over me for a moment, then kissed me vcrv lightlv, lest hp should wake me, and crept out of the room on tip-toe, but he sighed very heavily, or else lie tried to suppress a sob. Tom, whom I had never seen crv—could it be that lie loved me, after all. just as father did mofher? I buried inv face in the bed-clothes and prayed I might die and he through with it all, for there was Philip Flanders with his

strange

io bear with each

other." w.os all she had time to say when callers were announced, and Tom seized iuc and dragged me out out through the back palor. "Now, Tom," said I, calmly,for the fresh air revived me and I had cried off some of my emotion, "'do you call this 'eonce sion?" "Concession!', replied lie. as if he had never heard of the word before. "Well no—not exactly." "Well," said I, "don't you remem berthat you told me you should always be glad to make concessions, and that my will should always be your law?" "No," said Torn, stoutly, "I do not and if I ev?" aid such a silly thing, I jtbonld desire to forgot it. Everybody knowi

I ha* i{ is a woman's place to yk'Ul. an} cvefv trie woman finds hec highest plea^

power over me, which I knew I

never could resist. I did not die, however. Youth and a good constitution triumphed, and in a vcrvshort time I was pronounced fit for the country. I did not see Philip Flanders, and Tom was very tender with me: hapji'nc seemed to be creeping back and when Tom said I should go to Aunt Abigail's, as I begged, instead of home, I kissed liinf gratefully, and felt a con'ent stealing over me.

The last summer of my bright, car^-frce irlhood ft as passed away back among Hie hills, with uncle Cyrus and Aunt Abigail: the very thought of it was peace Even now I sometimes think it was the happiest summer of my life: I had never been disappointed there: my ideals were all glorious heroes, who never came down from their pedestals. Life before me looked like one grand triumphal march: my only care for the future was to wonder, a- girls will, what .strong arm I should lean upon, and what manly tread would keep time to the music of my lighter step.

Uncle Cyras and Aunt Abigail were the rarest old couple in the world. Their love had reached its Indian summer, but it was not mournful, like that of the year: it did not suggest decay and death, but a world where such love must bloom over again in freshness and immortal youth. Ithad ripened slowly. I knew now, though I thought then it had always been thus peaceful, for Uncle Cyrus' once tawnybrown hair was like snow, and only a few threads of dark in the silver of Aunt Aligril's told of the wealth of black hair whioh framed her Ireantifnll face when -lie name a bride to the old homestead.

Atin» Abigail was a "Friend" by birth

MORNING, DECEMBER 1,1869.

and training, and when that non-resisting sect threatened to "read her out of meeting" because her whole soul turned in love to Uncle Cvrus, whose family had been "Congregatiofialist-s" for generations, her temperament and her training met in a'hand-to-hand conllic'. Temperament won the victory, as it generally does in such cases so she laid aside her drab, and brightened the bridal white of her wed-ding-hat with a bit of scarlet verbena, and sat in the choir with Uncle Cyrus the Sunday after they were married. She said "tliee" but once after that time, and it was years and years after, when Uncle Cyrus told her, with a ghastly face, that Coifsin George was dead—dead at Gettysburg. "Thee can't mean it, Cyrus," came in a shriek from her ashy lips,- and she sank senseless at his feet Poor Aunt Abigail! all the hope of her youth, coming back through the old familiar phrase to resist the shock, was powerless before the terrible truth. We thought her heart was broken, but after the first sharp agony was over she was her own strong self again and when they brought crape and bombazine, she exclaimed, "Shall I put on garments of mourning because my son has been 'promoted on the field?'"'and she put them away with a face like that of an angel. Their grief was to sacred for sadness: if full of heart-break, it was also full of hope: boisterous mirth might be subdued, but no innocent enjoyment was ever checked by their presenee.

The faith of the aged couple created a serene atmosphere around them which I, weak and morbid as I had become, longed for with an inexpressible longing so when Tom placed me comfortably in the ears, for he could not go with me, giving the conductor enough charges to betray the fact of his being a very young husband, and I leaned languidly back, a sence of the tranquil cheerfulness to which I was hastening filled my soul, and the thought of Philip Landers seemed fading like the memory of a bad dream, a

A caressing touch aroused me, and he, my evil genius, was beside me. "Alone for such a journey, in such a state!" lie said, softly.

I had been very ill, and was weak and morbid, as I have said, and before my journey was half completed I had an agonized conviction ibat I was a wretched, almost deserted wife, and that lie was indeed my "more than friend." He adroitly left at a station a few miles from Uncle Cyrus', regardless of the fact that I was more lonely and in a mucfl worse state than lie found me but I did not think of this at the time.

The next morning, after a sleepless night, I thought, I would tell nele Cvrus and Aunt Abigail my sad story. Tliey were always charitable to motives: they might understand me. If they did not, and the worst came to the worst though of what that worst would be I had only a vague notion—there was my "more than friend" to whom I could appeal, and who would stand bv me to the last. So, after pravers, I told them, as well as I could, that I had found that mv marriage was a great mistake that I was wretched and wanted to die that I had but^ one friend, Philip Flanders (and I painted him in glowing colors) that he had understood me from the beginning and that lie said Tom and I were "really incompatible." "Most men," said Aunt Abigail, with quiet but stinging satire, "have a lively sense of the wrongs of other men's wives." "Incompatible!" cried Uncle Cyrus, lookingat me over his glasses and turning very red in the face: "Drat the man! I wonder what vour aunt would have done if some fool had told her we were incompatible before we had been married six months?"

Now "drat" was the strongest oath Uncle Cvrus ever tfsed. It was well understood"in the family that it bore no more dangerous relation to a regular "damn'' than a single sneeze doe? to a three weeks' influenza yet for all this, whenever he used it, Aunt Abigail always felt that the interests of religion and morality required her to sav "Why, Cyrus!" when Uncle Cvrus, with a'slightly crestfallen air, would reply, "well and therethe matter would end for that time. But on this occasion she did not reprove him, but looked as if slie would have borne the stronger word had he chosen to use it.

This omission and this look nearly broke my heart, and exclaiming vehemently, "Everybody is against me!" I rushed away to my room, cried mvself to sleep, and'awoke feeling indescribably better and very hungry.

Oh how hungry I was! But after such a tragic demonstration, how could I go down stairs and ask for something to eat? If I could onlv see Hannah from the window, could get her to smuggle a nice lunch into my room but no Hannah was to be seen, and the question seemed to be between pride and starvation, wjicn 1 heard Aunt Abigail stepping cautiously oxer the stairs. That slow, steady step foreboded a lecture, and Aunt Abigail would make thorough work with me, I knew but to meet it when,I was so hungry did seem hard. Then the doct swung open, the fragrance of coffee filled the room, and there stood Aunt Abigail holding a salver containing the most delicious lunch—one of her own-fashinoned china cups, my childish admiration, from the corner cup-board, for tiie coffee, two ham sandwiches and a single tart of homemade,

flaky

paste filled with clear, quiv­

ering currant jelly. "Oh, Aunt Abigail!" exclaimed I, gratefully, with a watering mouth. "Your uncle thought," said she, moving a little stand nearer the bed and placing the salver on ft, "that you would like sonic of his ham: lie cured it himself and 1 sat up and ate the ham that had been "cured-' by the man who had just "dratted" mv "more than friend," and felt better for it—better, in fact, than I ever had for anything that my "more than friend'' had ever said or done, and I began to gain mentally as physically from Uiat dav.

Tomfrvrote constantly, telling me not to write to him till I was able, but that lie was So very lonely lie must write to me. "A very good letter for a cold-blooded monster to write," said Aunt Abigait one morning, I read her passages from my last.

I had just come, "as lre.sli as a rose, Uncle Cyrus said, from a long countrv drivc through old roads, winding, as old roads will, here to a ferry and there to a mill and Aunt Abigail, seeing I was able to bear it, began to talk with me about my troubles. She laughed heartily over the concession story, and told me 1 was onlv learning what all wives must—the difference between a lover and a husband. Then she told about the differences of opinion and feeling which she and nele CvriLs had when they were first married —how she used to cry and wish she was back in the Friends' meeting-house, with her little brab bonnet on, and no Uncle Cvrus anvwhere. Then grandfather came to see them. He was an old man—older than Uncle Cyrus is now—with a manner of "-cntle vet statly courtesy. Aunt Abigail thought lie must have seen that she was not quite happy, for he took great pains to prai-eeverything she did, especiailv when 'Uncle Cyrus was near to hear him: he used to read in the Bible to her:

One afternoon, when he was reading from his favorite John, a lady who was present said, "Well, after all, I like Paul better: John got to be a little too gentle. Now Paul," said she, "knew pee pie must quarrel sometimes, for he said, 'If it be poxxibk' as much as lieth in_ von, live peaceably with all men.' 'I hen grandfathpr said that passage had been very .much perverted, because }eopIe did not know now to place the emphasis properlv and when the lady looked surprised, lie said the right emphasis was on the word "you"—"as much as lieth in i/ou, live i»eaeeably with all men:" and he sai| ij if were read in that way it would Ik? a perfect rule for all newly-married people.

Au»' Abigail said she often thought of

after that conversation, and it was curious to see how frequently it prevented .the retort that was springing to her lips. Then, when grandfather went away, sne watched him through the blinds with tearful eyes, for she loved the kindly old man who had strengthened and consoled her and she heard him say to Uncle Cvrus, "You have abetter wife, Cyrus,-than I ever thought you would get: see tkat you are kind to her, for she has given up a great deal for you."

Uncle Cvrus did not say anything then, but they were happier from that time and the" day after grandfather's funeral— for he did not live long: Aunt Abigail never saw him again—he told her those very words, not dreaming that she had head them before, and that they had been among her choicest treasures since the bright autumn .day when grandfather kissed and blessed her for the last time. I could not help thinking that grannfather's consolation was not much like that of my "more than friend and with this thought a sudden conviction that it was a great deal better swept through my mind with the refreshing effect of a cool evening breeze after a sultry day and for the first tiipe I felt like writing to Tom.

My letter brought back a most loverlike espistle, by return of mail, to say he would be with me in a week.

Aunt Abigail said it was the sentiment of love which carried people through' courtship, but they must deAnd upon the principle of love to csyry them through marriage. It often seemed as if this »cntimeni of love had been killed by the antagonism of the earlier periods of married life but if the principle were developed by unswerving truth and loyalty^ to each other, under whatever temptation^ to the contrary, the sentiment would in time revive again, and the love and life would be transfigured.

I was greatly comforted by my talks with Aunt Abigail: they gave me hope for the future, and 1 resolved to be as intenselv loval to Tom as any one could de-

justice.

he had not done right: he ought not to have kissed me, and I never would let him again. I should talk frankly with him about it all, and tell him that I now saw I had been more to blame than Tom, and that we had become very happy. He had meant toj be kind to me: he was wretched and lonely and, after all, his only fault was that "he had to much heart. It would be hard and cruel to give him up: every man needed a strnog matronly friend, and I would be—lie was thirty-five and I twenty—one to liinu

But of all these resolutions I said not a word to Aunt Abigail, nor yet to Uncle Cyrus, as I did not wish to encounter another "drat."

The day that Tom was to come was as perfect as June could make it. Uncle Cyrus took ine to the station in his old country wagon, with its high green "settle," for I wanted Tom to see it and take hisj first drive in it. The station was thronged, for it was now the middle of the month, and crowds of city people were coming up for the remainder of the season. We gathered at the end of the platform to catch the first glimpse of the train, wliich was when it came around a nharp bend in the road: then it disappeared, and wc could not sec it again till it was just at the station. The train was late, and I begairto fear an accident.

What if I never sliotlld see Tom again?, Such things had happened to others— why not to me? The thought brought a sharper pang than I had ever known but no—all was right. "There it is!" cried the people and we watched it make the curve. A bright cloud caught my eye —it was just sunset—and at that instant there came a sound of agony from the crowd, and I saiv the cars dash off tlie the steep embankment, turn over and over, and plunge into the river below.

My Tom was there, I had only written to him once, and now I never could write to him again? Everything reeled around me. There was a terrible hush for a moment, then a sound of mad riding then I recognizeddthe voice of the stationagent. He seeriSjflPstO be screaming in my ears: "They can't save a soul: we never had such a smash-up on this road." Then two men took hold of me, very gentlv, to carry me into the station. "Poor thing!" said one, his voice sounding far away: "had she any friends in the train?" "Iler husband," replied Uncle Cyrus, anil his voice trembled, though it was so far away I could liaadly catch the sound —"only married six months." Then all was blank. When I came to myself, it seemed to be midnight: a single lamp was burning on the table in the Ladies

there was no prayer meant

really by my side, eorp^fc among the

and learn everything about oxygen,

hvdrogen and nitrogen as soon as we got

0me

kn0

Saint John was his favorite apostle. He liked hi in, he said, because he was not born gentle, but had become so through his faith for he was one of those who were called "sons of thunder and Aunt Abigail said grandfather's keen blue eye and high instep made her think his experience might have been lifcc that of John so she liked to hear him read and talk of him, but she thought the words, "Little children, love one another," were pretty sure to get intone very reading.

(PAYABLE IN ADVANCE

Room," where I was, and the station was cage? When there's a perch in it. as still as the grave. I thought, with a shudder, that all the people were at the river. Then I felt hot tears raining on my face, ank knew that some one was sobbing over me. "Aunt Abigail," said I, feebly, lam glad I wrote to Tom and his pwn dear voice replied'. "Oli, Maggie, Maggie! I thought I never should see you again

at least as clear as it could be under the circumstances. "Do vou know, Maggie," said Tom, "that James Roberts once tried to make me jealous of you and Flanders?" "Of me?" said I, faintly. "Yes," replied-he. "Koberts came to me one day and said, 'Tom, isn't Flanders at your house a good deal?' 'Yes,' said I, 'he is a help to Maggie about her music.' 'I thought he was there pretty often,' returned Roberts, 'for I have happened in several times when you have been at the club, and always found Flanders. He is a confounded flirt, and if I had a young and pretty wife, I would not trust him with her. I would stay at home from the club and take care of her.'" "Is he a tlirt?"ll interrupted. "Oh yes," replied Torn—"particularly with married women. Roberts said he had made untold misery in a great many families. His 'dodge' was to make each woman believe that he was lonely, wretched and dying for sympathy,, but that he should never marry, because he had not met her till it was too late."

Oh, "wasn't I glad that I had never kissed Philip, and that his one passionate kiss had been a complete surprise to me?

Tom went on- 'I am much obliged to you, Roberts,' said I, when he had said all lie had to say, 'but I do not choose to give up my club, and lean trust my little wife with any man.' "And so you can, Tom—so you cau!" I cried, in a sudden gush of remorseful tenderness. "I always hated James Roberts I wish he was dead." "Oh, he meant well enough," said Tom, drowsily, "only in this case he made an ass of himself, and *lie saw that I thought so."

Then Tom gave me one kiss more and we went to sleep and that was the last of our "incompatibility," though we still have some pretty sharp differences and I suppose we shall so long as Tom is a san-dy-complexioned man,with rednish-brown hair and fiery hazel eyes, while I have jet-black hair, and eyes which do not wait for long provocation before they flash.

Perhaps, when the hair is white, and the eves are dim and look through spectacles, if we should live together so long —and God grant we may!—an Indian summer with bright tints indeed, but soft haze andjquiet light, will come to us, as it has to Uncle Cyrus and AuntJAbigail.— Lippencotts Magazine.

HASH.

Texts for sinners—Pretexts. Clerical loans—Lent sermons.

The "new cut"—The Suez Canal.

Popular diet in Utah—Spare rib.

A frienlv suit—A Quaker's dress. The scene of disasters—Kerosene. Unredeemable bonds—Vagabonds. Stump speech—Uttering a challenge. Original \fater works—A pair of eyes

The greatest army contractor—Peace. "•Harmless pugilism Striking atti­

tudes. -. How to take a cold bath—Take it coolly.

It is pleasi.nter to see than feel a lady's cuffl Motto for chess-players—Act oh the square.

A tale of thrilling interest—The rattlesnake's. Strange bed-clothes—Three sheets in the wind,

The public singer that "draws" the best —A misquito. What is the greatest want of the age? Want of funds.

Cheap generosity—Giving a man a piece of your mind. People who let grass grow under their feet—A eron au s.

Wanted— fresh covering for the bells that have pealed. It is a mistake to suppose that the sun is supported by its beams.

Editors ought to be able to live clieaptliev get "bored" for nothing. A sufferer complains that squeaking boots "murder sleep" in church.

Wften is a small fish-pond like a bird

Whv is an over-worked horse like an umbrella? Because it is used up.

It is said—ironically, perhaps—that blacksmiths forge and steel every day. It wasn't alone the conductors of cars who said on Thanksgiving afternoon, "all full."

Why do young ladies whiten their faces?

Then Tom told how he was in the front j}ecause they think the powder will make passenger car, the only one that was saved. (j,em g0

0

ff.

The curve was so sharp that he,,looked ,,

back as he felt a strange jar, and saw the Some lawyers resemble folkb "ho can two back cars plunge off: then he knew sleep in anv position it is immaterial on

hope. "I learned what in that second, Maggie,"

said Tom, reverently. Then lie took me in his arms and carried me out :*he would not let Uncle Cyrus help him. and I could not-vet stand and Tom took his first ride, after all, in the old wagon with the high green settle. It was only eight o'clock when we got

home, though it had seemed so much like ,lken before going to bed," pat up mitniglit to me. iintilshe got well, so as not to take it.

and not a mangled

__.o whirling waters and

sharjTTocks of the riv.er, I said, softly. A "Tom, I iri/i go to the Episcopal church, and I will make a business of learning to find my place in the PraverIJook." •'Oh, Maggie," said.Tom, "I have taken a pew in your church—I forgot to tell you^ this terrible shock put evi

everything

When I thought it was

out of my heaad. vnen uio.ig.mi. .. over with me, I hoped you would find it 1 fe out, and know I wanted to please you.' An iliber

was

I rr.

"Don't cry so, Maggie," said lom, "you'll be getting hysterical next. Now I will tell you some home-news th surprise you and make you laugh: Philip Flanders is engaged."

great solemnity "Why, Tom! jjed—'-she is forty-five, at least, and so fat!" "Yes," 'aid Tom, pulling me back, "and she has a 'fat' purse, which is all Flanders cares for: they have been engafed for a year, and have only waited to secure some property which was to come to her at this time. TI.ey will be married and go abroad at one."

A year! Then lie was engaged to her

which side tliey lie. What is the difference between a and a hill? One is hard to get up, the other is hard to get down.

pill and

Height of extravagance—Getting your self run over bv a railroad car just after you have bought your diary for 1870.

A voune ladv in Illinois having a dose

1„ k„,l r,.! nr.

them into his their rt^ls by putting tlieni into their stomach.

Woman—there is a purple half to the grape, a mellow half to the peach, a sunny half to the globe, and a better half to man.

Speaking feelingly—The graceful weepin!? willow commands our admiration, but

a good word for

H(()rv is

the whip-

An Hibernian Senator, speaking of _sni-

"Oh Tom said I beginning to cry, cide, said: lhe only wav to I "vou a'lwavs 'wanted t^ pl^se me and I make it a capital offense, punMle mth privatelv 'resolved to take The Origin of death! the Stars "by the horns," as father used to

g0 *g West to open a jewelry store.

When asked what capital he had, lie replied: "A erowbar.' Spriggins savs he once prevented se-

hat will I vere case of hydrophobia by simply getting on a high fence and waiting there until the dog left.

I was surprised, though I did not laugh. I pat j)00ian)at the battle of ChancellorsIf ever anybody star.j,"^ I did then, £jje bowed low at a cannon ball which but I kney their '^origin" without going ],jz'ze(j jURt six inches above his head, to Tom's book for it. "Faith said Pat, "one never loses any"Engaged!" said I, with an unnatural \,e

ng

polite."

airiness in mv tone: to whom, prav .1 "Guess" said Tom—"some one that vou "I don't think I can see to shaveine

without a light," said Mr Qm to Mrs

I could think of no one but Lizzy Q., the other morning. Oh, la, fclie le Plummer, and I would not guess her, for plied, "I should think your face was plain I never could ocar her, because she could enough to be seen anywhere. wear a boot half a size and a glove a

ex-devil

quarter of a size smaller than I could so jUestioned as to the duties ofar'printgave it up. ei« devil." He replied, "to bring in "Mrs. Harriet Monroe, said Tom, with jean

of a country printing office

wa

1 cried, sitting up it id

before and after lie became my "lonely, ,istake. "wretched" "more than friend !"»-all the iime that he was singing with me and admir: she that he had too much heart—whole misfortune and misery had been that lie had mr-t rae too late —wa« going to marry an oldish widow for money.

Well, he had secured a strong matronly friend: I was glad, I was sure, or at least I ought tobe. If my proposed occupation

ter, carry out dirty water, steal

wood, lie, and numerous othfer articles."

"How do you manage to get along in Paris without knowing the French lan uage?" inquired a gentlemen of Mrs. Shoddy. "Oh, we had an interrupter with us complacently replied th%old lady.

Gentlemen (to boatman)—You must often, I should think, get wet, do you not" Arties. boatman—Yes, yer honor, we-do^ werry wet, werry wet, indeed but I'm werry dry just now, yer honor, and no

ui

A ladv, out with her little boy and a rubber balloon,

tiiatne was singing «u.. ... 3 Url bought the boy a rubber balloon, ninng mv slender, willowy hieh escaped him, and fiew up in the SO fat IIe whose only fault had been hicn (scape in linrl tAn mimli liMrt—vrhnlfi 1X118* I ii said: "Never mind, Neddy when die and go to heaven you'll dit it."

Mr. Parsons, in his lecture on Curran, said that "genius can afford to wait." That's what an apprentice to th handcartc mackerel business was told. In time he

was gone, I should be at liberty to devote mjgbt be able, like a grand artist, to draw niy?c!f to Tom with^ clear conscience, or 0

wnestablishment.-.

LAST RELIC OF BARBARISM.

Delaware Whipping, Daf—The Mcii PnMicly Flogged.

Five men, named Edward Smith, Andrew Chambers^,George Jackson, James Gordon and Joseph Barnes, were publiclv flogged in the jail yard at New Castle, Delaware, on Saturday last.

The following is a fist of persons Hogged, together with a. specification of the crimes for which they were convicted, and the full sentence in eaeh case: Edward Smith, a colored man for committing a scandalous assault npen a child, was placed in the pillory for one hour, and thep whipped With- thirty lashes on the back until tKo blood ran. Beside this punishments-lie has yet to pay a fine of $500.

Andrew Chambers, convicted of stealing money from an employe bf the Phi la-, delphia, Wilmington & Baltimore Railroad, was whipped with twenty lashes upon his back and then placed in jail to serve an imprisonment of one year,and pay restitution money and costs. The sum stolen was eight or nine dollars.

Geo. W. Jackson, a negro, found guilty of stealing 000 pounds of rags from .Jesfep & Moore, was Hogged with twenty lashes, which drew blood. The rest of his sentence is that he shall be imprisoned six months, pay restitution money, casts of prosecution, and wear a convicts dress in public six month's after his release.

James Gordon, a negro, was whipped with twenty lashes, well laid on, for having stolen a pair of shoes worth about four dollars. Besides this, he will be imprisoned for six months and be compelled to wear a convict's dress in public for six months after his discharge.

A black man named osepli Darius was whipped with twenty lashes ujion his bare back, drawing the blood, for having stolen a cow. He will also have to pay S150 restitution money, the costs of the prosecution, suffer imprisonment for one vear, and wear a convict's dress for six months after his release. •,

CONSCIENCE.

Hv Henry Ward lJcoclier.

The following question is sent to us for an answer? "Arc the pains of Conscience punishment? If

so, why

do they weaken

as wc grow more wicked?" The conscience is that faculty by which men have the sense of wright or wrong, justice or injustice, goodness or evil. It is often spoken of as if it reasoned, discriminated and determined. 1 his is true only of the whole mind when the intellect, or the thought-producing part of the mind is active. The conscience, pure and simple, never thinks, though it inspires the intellect to think. its action as painful or pleasuable, is, in all normal conditions, determined by the truths or facts revealed to it by the intellect. It is thcjudgment which determines the agreement of actions with the rules of conduct, of conduct with law, of facts with governing principles. It is only then that conscienceJbllon-a the intellect, yielding pleasure or pain according to the dicisions of the understanding.

In this respect it does not differ from anv other feeling. All the emotions have the power of giving to the intellect their special magnetism, so that it shall see and seize the class of truths which belong to the emotions, but of themselves no eniotionsor sentiment thinks. The conscience is blind in itsself. Its action is determined by the underttanding.

When, that pronounces a deed wrong, the conscience pours forth the peculiar and painful response which men call disapprobation, or remorse, according to its its strength. If the intellect decides a course to be right, the conscience approves and yields its peculiar pleasure. Its action is entirely analogous to the action of the emotions. They are all blind and unreasoning. They all approve or disapprpvc, are pained or pleased, [according to the representation or impression made upon them by the intellect.

The question of our correspondent, then, is not a question any longer respecting the consciencc, but respecting the action of all the sentiments.

Every faculty, and every physical organ, has a double capacity of generating pleasure or pain. If used in accordance to its law, cv.ery faculty give pleasure. If used in violation of its law,it yields pain. The pleasure inclines men to use their powers rightly, and the pain tends to hinder men from employing their faculties wrongly.

But if men persist for a length of time in abusing any organ, or any faculty of mind, it loses its true unction. Men may destroy hearing in the ear, sight in the eye, sensibility in the hand, digestion in tiie stomach, aeration in the lungs, and good pulsation in the heart.

A persistent abuse of any part of the human organization disturbs, then disorders, and if carried far enough, destroys the function of organ and faculty. In this way the taste may be perverted and ruined, the sentiment of benevolence may be impaired and well-nigh extinguished. The jiains of conscience are no more set for "punishment" than the pains of any other violated emotion. We do not object to the use of the term "punishment," if it be used intelligently. But we mistake if we suppose that it is peculiar to conscience. It belongs to every organ and faculty of man. The abuse of function is followed by no different results in the case of conscience than in the instance of any other faculty. .The continued abuse of the sense of the beautiful at length either extinguishes or greatly weakens the faculty to which this element belongs. Men can pervert the sense of color, of proportion. They can impair and greatly pcrv.crt all their most helpful faculties. Men can invigorate, refine, and ennoble, or they can deteriorate, enfeeble, and destroy their whole nicntal^ and moral economy.

The Education of the Negro. Kapid as has been the change of public opinion in this country on every phase of the negro question—and we must remember that the hale gentleman of fifty was a stout boy of seventeen when William Lloyd Garrison was led through the streets of Boston with a rope round his neck—in none has it been more rapid than ut the South on the education and suffrage of the black. Four years ygo, schoolhouses for the eolored people were burnt down and the teachers everywhere assaulted to-day, the Southern mind accepts both facts as inevitable necessities, and is lready preparing to like them at some distant date. Even now it is willing lo use them. The more advanced thinkers of the South recognize the fact that reliable, skilled labor is cheaper at a high price than unskilled and unreliable labor at a low. In his recent address before (he NationaFTeachers' Association at Trenton, (Jen. Howard said that the teachers are now personally safe from assault: [hey are only ostracized from all white society.

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They must in many cafes board with the blacks, and be recognized by them alone as acquaintances on the streets. On one occasion, General Howard accompanied two of his fair teachers to church and was shown to a seat. The ladv who occupied the pew, when she lifted up her eves and beheld the intruders, immediately vacated the pew and retired in disgust to another part of the church! But all this bitterness is dying out, though but slowly. Occasionally a resident clergyman will straggle in to see if the '"niggers" are really capable of learning.— Washington and Georgetown give the same common-school education to the blacks that they do to the whites. The city of Petersburg in Virginia has established a system of free schools for all children, without distinction of race. It receives aid from the Bureau and from the Peabody fund only to the extent of about one-fourth of the to-„ tal expense. Astonishing as its' may seem, the teachers^ in that city are mostly'native Virginians. They have braveli and broken dowfc the unreasonable spirit of social ostracism whichS has hitherto awaited every one who, should venture to instruct colored child-': ren. In all human probability, these?#

Petersburg teachers arc but the precursors^ of a great cloud of Southern teachers who are to devote themselves to teaching! every one that will come to learn. 111 Columbus, Mississippi, where the school fund is derived from rental of land given by the United States, the city authorities are now offering either to throw open the. doors of their free academy to coloredscholars—a proposition that would have led to the destruction «f the building itself five years ago—or tliey will divide the money on a pro rata basis, rom all parts of the South comes the same report —that in the midst of obliquy, 'of sociul ostracism, of Ku-Klux outrages, of deep and bitter prejudice, the Southern nund is slowly preparing to admit the black racein the educational arena^ jiut ..'ls_.it has_ been found to admit himfto the ballot.—

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