Newspaper of Bedford Gazette, June 29, 1860, Page 1

Newspaper of Bedford Gazette dated June 29, 1860 Page 1
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vorj Tii; .16. NEW SERIES. FJIHE BEDFORD GAZETTE, R iS I'UBLLSHEF EVERY FRIDAY MORN INC BY IS. F- MEYERS, At the following terms, to wit $1.50 per annum, CASH, in advance. s>.oo " " if paid within the year. t-'/jQ ( if not paid within the year. subscription taken for less than six months. paper discontinued until all arrearages are naid unless at the option of the publisher, .t has keen'decided by the United States Courts that the Moppaeoi a newspaper without tne payment ot ar rearages, is prima facir- evidence ot fraud and is a, criminal offence. tT7"The courts have decided that persons are ac comitable for the subscription price of newspapers, ■I tfjev lake them from the post otfiee,whether hey subscribe lor them, or not. •5 elect |) 011 r rt. DISCONTENTED. How rr.any sick ones Wish they were healthy; How many beggar men Wi.h they were wealthy ; How many ugly ones Wish they were pretty ; How many stupid ones Wish they were witty ; How manv bachelors Wish they were married ; How many Benedicts Wish they hail tarried : Single or doub/e, f. lie's l"u// of tronb/e ; Uirhes are stubb/e, P/eastire's A bubb/e. Select Hale. thf. lover and the loved BY ALBERT IVIAN. The Missouri river had nearly gained its ut r it height in the great flood ol IS 14, but was .-till rapidly rising when I came to its banks in tue beginning of June, at the pleasant little town ol Lennox, iu the western part of Hie State. Lennox is situated on a high blub on the east bank of tfie river, which there flows nearly south. At the foot of the bluff is barely room for a single street which runs parallel with the river, and on which a few warehouses, stores, and mills are built. The blufl is steep —in pla ces, almost perpendicular—and a single street ran up from the river to the summit, where the principal part of the town was situated. The Missouri, at this point, is commonly about five hundred yards wide ; and at the trend, a little above Hie town, where the river turned tromau •■astern to a southern course, the current was unusually rapid, even lor that rapid river. The opposite shore was a low level tract ot bottom land, several miles wide, elevated only a l°w leet above the water. Along the shores, and for a mile or two back, the country was covered with a dense growth of cotton-wood, hut beyond this was an extensive prairie. A number of old water-courses ran tiirough this bottom, into which the water of the river now found its way from above, forming large streams across it, and to a great extent, interrupting travel. Direct ly opposite Lennox, were a warehouse, hotel and one or two other buildings, all very near .he shore. When 1 arrived in town it was nearly dark, and 1 was told that I could not cross till the next day, as the ferry-boat was propelled only by r.and, and the great rapidity ol the stream rendered crossing slow and labo rious. I went to the top of the bluff", from which the view cf the river and country on the other side was very extensive. The buildings on ibe shore opposite seemed almost at mv feet, they lay so far below me. The lerry-boat was fastened near the hotel, to the stump of a large tree, which stood just at the river's brink. While looking at the prospect before me, I saw a carriage drive up to the hotel on the oth er side of the river, and several persons, nfostly ladies, descended from it, and went in. A group of spectators standing near me on the bluff ob served them, and their conversation attracted my attention. "These are Stanton's people," said one of thein. "They ought to come over to-night. The river is rising very fast, and no one knows what miy happen before morning." "Yes," replied another ; "the bank there is washing away rapidly, and the liver has near ly reached the slough on the other side of the warehouse. When it gets in there, those buildings will not stand long. They [are cer tain to go in a day or two, unless the water tails. The families all left there yester day. I went back to my lodgings soon after, and thought nothing mote about it till next morning at bn-akfast, when the landloid's son came in with the news, that the ferry-boat had gone down the nver during the night—the stump to which it had been fastened was washed out by ibe river—and that all Stanton's family were unable to get away. The hoarders all hastened out to the bluff, to see (or themselves. I went along. The < harige since the previous evening was remar kable. Directly beyond the buildings we could see a wide and rapid stream, which entirely cut off the inmates from the land, and formed an island containing, perhaps, half an acre of land, which was barely above the surface of tfie water.— The current of the river—if possible, more rap id than on the previous dav was rushing with terrible force against the upper end of l be island, and fast wearing it away. It was s oon learned that the river had risen several inches during the night, and was still ri sing. II avy clouds to the west and north showed *ba. ram was still pouring down upon the trib ute .es of the Missouri that entered the river | just above, and cut off all hopes of a fall of the , water. Mr. Stanton soon joined the crowd that was : fast collecting on the bluff. If* was a tall, gentlemanly person, apparent jlv sixty years of age. He was dressed with ! scrupulous care, and carried a gold headed cane. I I learned lie was -one of the most wealthy citi ; zens of the town, a retired merchant, whose ample fortune was invested in banking houses j and real estate, llis family consisted of his wife somewhat younger than himself—and an only son just entering on manhood. The death of a brother-in-law, whose w : fe had died some time before, left him tfie natural protector of two nieces and a nephew. Mrs. Stanlon and her son had gone to bring them home, and they were the persons now on the island, anil in such desperate need of succor. The current of the Missouri, always rapid, renders boating upon it laborious and un > pleasant ; and consequently, lew boats pro ' pel led by oars are to he found UDOII its wa ] ters. i A steamer was expected about noon, on her ; upward trip, and is it was certain that the is i land would resist the action of the water till i ifcat time, it was resolved to await the arrival i of the float. j The construction of a raft was proposed, but jit was thought doubtful whethei one could be I propelled across the river. Others proposed ' sending to a neighboring town for abmall skiff i which was known to be there. Dut as that j would occupy several hours, it was said that | ihe steamer would be at tile landing before (he j skiff could be brought. About ten o'clock, a j heavy shower drove the spectators to shelter. fbe rain continued till afternoon, when it sud . tlenly ceased, and the sun shone out I rightly, j Though the streets were miry, and the ground I wet and unpleasant, the tops of the bluff and ! tfie space about the landing were soon crowded i with people. About one-thud of the island had i disappeared within three hours previous, and j the water was now rushing furiously along within a few feet of the veranda, which ex ! tended along the east side of the hotel. A part of the 'oundation of the warehouse, j which stood a little above the hotel, and very | near it, had been washed away, and the huge j building was slowly sinking into the river.— ; "lis. Stanton and her son were standing at one j end of the veran la, and her nieces and nephew 'in a group by themselves, a liftie apart. Bv j the aid oi my glass, I could see them quite dis distinclly. The girls were apparently of tfie ages of eighteen and fifteen, and the boy much j younger, probably not more than eight years of : age. ! They all looked earnestly at the crowds of ! people who filled the hill tops ai d lined the j streets about the landing. Mrs. Stanton seem jed more agitated than the others, and I could see fioin tfie frequent movement ol her hand kerchief that she was weeping. The young j man was restless, and moved about nervously, j glancing fiomthe crumbling island to the iand- j tug oppose, unit then looking up 'and down j the river, as it' tor the appearance of a steamer. \ The young ladies remained motionless, stand* I ing side by side, with their brother leauing up- I on the railing before them. A lertible tear that the steamer might be de tained, and not arrive that day, now began to I coirie upon the spectators. Mr. Stanton was ; thoroughly alarmed, and dispatched a wagon to • bring up the skiff that was at a landing some distance below the town. Jt would require less time to bring it up in that manner than it would to row it up against the current on the river. The driver and attendant were iirypd to hasten to the utmost of their speed, but it was nearly two o'clock when they started. Serious (ears began to be felt for the safety of the im prisoned family, and the arrival of the steamer was still anxiously looked for ; but hour after hour passed, and nothing save the broad, rush ing waste of water could be seen. Hour after passed by, and the people looked, and wonder ed, and sympathized in vain. The waters rose steadily, and the little island was fast yielding to their constant rushing, and wearing away before our eyes, while the im prisoned tiavelers watched and waited some sign of coming deliverance, but watched and waited in vain. The clouds again hid the sun and a fearful looking storm began to ri-e iu the north-east. It was almost sunset when the skiff arrived. The hundreds of people who had been watching till then from the I.ill-tops, now hastened down to the landing, anxious to see the skiff afloat, and to meet the rescued family when they should come to land. I went down the hill with the crowd. A stranger, whom J had not seen before, came a long by my side. He was probably twenty-five years of age, ol medium size, very plainly dres sed, but with the unmistakable air and ma niters of a gentleman. 1 observed that his eyes and hair were both brown, and that he had a care worn and wearied expression. We walked on in silence for a moment, and then he spoke : "This has been a long, weary day for these people." I made some common-place reply, and he continued : "How many spend their whole lives in a similar manner —in fear, and doubt, and agony watching, and waiting and praying for the deliverauce that will never come !" I looked at him in surprise. He noticed it, and added : "Physical dangers and sufferings are often terrible •, but they have this alleviation—they secure to the sufferer the sympathy of those a | round him ; but mental anguish is not visible, and must be borne alone. Many men and wo men, too, will risk their lives to rescue a hu man being from danger and distress like this," (and he pointed towards the island) "who will walk carelessly by, and neither think nor care to think, how easily they might relieve alar greater distress." BEDFORD, PA., FRIDAY MORNING, JUNE 29, 1860. We were by this time in a dense crowd, and were separated. When 1 reached the landing the skiff was lying in the water, and Mr. Stan ton was standing near it, with tears in his eyes expostulating with a uegio boatman who stood by. A dense mass of human beings surrounded iliem in a semi-circle. By crowding along at the edge of the water, I succeeded, with diffi culty in getting inside of tfie circle. I noticed that the skiff was quite small and could cany but a few persons. The people on the island were still standing on the verandah, which the water had now reached, and was undermining. Mrs. Stanton was waving her handkerchief incessantly, but the young ladies stood apart, clasped in each other's arms silent and motionless, looking with an earnest steadfast gaze, at the river and the landing opposite. "Will no one go ?" cried Mr. Stanton, in agf ony. "I have neither the strength nor the skill to row the boat across. I'll give any man a thousand dollars v.-ho will do it ! A thousand dollars !" he repeated wildly ; "or any amount one will ask !" "A thousand dollars, and your freedom, Jack!" tie exclaimed, addressing the negro boatman, "it you will but take the boat to them." But the negro shook his head slowly, as he answered : "I can't, Massa Stanton it's no use, the boat can't go back, and I would be left there to drown." "I'll give five thousand dollais to whoever will go! five thousand dollars!" he ciied, looking wildly around. 1 asked -vliat ail this meant; and was ans wered that theskitf would only hold four per sons with safety ; consequently, the persons on the island—five in number, of whom two were children—would fill it to the utmost capaci ty. The young m3n Stanton was'a good oarsman and, if he had the skifl, could easilj bring off the whole party ; but whoever should taketheiri the boat, must, perforce, take their place ami remain in the island till the boat could return for his deliverance. But it was now almost night, and a heavy stoim was last approach ing, and it would be quite impossible for the skill'to go back to tfie island before tLie storm, and the darkness would render the attempt hopeless. J'hi*. was the cause of Mr. Stanton's excite ment. No one was willing to undertake the enterprise; it was too dangerous. It was evident that the island would wholly disappear before morning ; and it wasalso evident that the Tskiti could not return that night. The skifl could not possible carry more than five persons on the island ; and either one o! them, or the person taking it to them, must remain, with an al most absolute certainty of perishing. What shall we do 1 What can be done ? were the questions that passed through Hie ciowd; but no one could answer them. It seem ed like going to certain death—and who was readv to die I A profound silence tell upon the crowd, and all stood motionless and irresolute as a leeling of crept over them. Tfie silence was op pressive, ar.d not a sound broke the stillness, except tile lushing of tile water along the edge of the ieyee. The silence seemed of longer duration than it really was—it had lasted per haps a full minute, when tfie stranger who had walked down from the town with me, stepped quietly out from the throng, and said, in a low, calin voice : "I will go." And wilhou. waiting for any ex planation, or any thanks from Mr. Stanton, who attempted to express tiis gratitude, and repeated his offer ot reward, he stepped into the skill'and took up the oars. "Take the rope and draw the skiff up to the point yonder, where that there log lies out into ttie river," said he, in a commanding tone. Several men sprang forward and seized the rope. Thu-object of this was, to take the boat up the river a considerable distance above tiie point where he intended to land 011 the other side. The spectators followed the boat tapidlv, and there was an evident ieelmg ot relief 111 tile prospect ot the family being at last deliver ed. During the passage up to the point indicated the stianger did not speak—scarcely once look ed around, but kept his attention fixed upon ttie boat, which he carefully guided with the oars, keeping it out iu the stream sufiiciently to a void sinking the shore. When the men who were drawing it reached the spot, tht-y all let go the rope but two, and these walked out care fully on the log to its extremity. "That will do," said the stranger. "Throw the rope into tile boat." They obeyed ; and exerting all his strength upon the oars, the skiff shot out rapidly into the stream. There was much wondering in the crowd, and many questions asked about the stranger ; but no one could answer them —no one knew about him. At the point where he started out into the river, the current was not very strong near the shore, but when about a third of the way across the skirl! entered the main channel of the stream and he was swept rapidly down. He still kept the prow ol tlie boat pointed towards the oppo site shore, but his utmost exertion could propel it but slightly forward, while the current bore him along downward with great rapidity. The spectators, following the motion ot the boat, hastil y retraced their stejis to the landing in front ol the warehouses, but before *we reached the spot, the skiff had passed through the most rapid part of the river, and entered the eddy formed just below the island. In a few mo ments mo'e the stranger had brought the skiff up to the house, and we saw the young man seize the rope and make it fast to the railing of the verandah. The stranger stepped front the boatyipon the lloor, and I observed that he bowed to the ladies and motioned them to the Freedom of Thought and Opinion. boat. The voiiug man was the first to enter : it was necessary that heshould to keep it steady while the others were taking their places.— Mrs. Stanton next stepped in, and then her litte nephew. As the young ladies were approach ing, I saw tfie stranger take something from a side pocket and place it in the hands of the eldest ; she paused, as if in conversation with hin, and it was not till the others were ail sea ted that she moved forward and entered the boat ; and even then she moved slowly, as if with reluctance. Ihe stranger loosened the rope that secured the skiff, again to the ladies, re mained standing on the verandah. As they floated rapidly away, it was evident that they must descend the river a considerable distance while making the passage, and that they would land at what was called the lower landing, about a half a mile below where we were standing. We all walked down in that direction. The rain began to fall, accompa nied with a heavy wind—the light faded rap idly away, as the storin increased, and it was a Intuit as dark as night when the skill came to Jand. The passengers were welcomed with loud cheers, and assisted into a carriage which had long been waiting them. They were thor ough ly drencheo, and seemed nearly exhausted with fatigue, anxiety and lasting ; thev had ea ten nothing for thirty-six hours. The tain beat furiously and pisilessly upon us as we has tened back to our lodgings. At supper the subject "was discussed, and there was much wondering and inquiring about the stran- As I was describing his personal appearance, the landlord remarked ; "He must be the stianger who stopped here last night." I replied that I did not see him at the table either in the morning or at noon. "No," said he, "he did not come down till late this morning, and did not come to dinner at all." It was concluded on ail hands that he was a doomed tr.an —the utter impossibility of his sur viving the night was evident. The storm continued with terrible fury— the rain fell in torrents, and the wind blew almost a hurricane, attended with incessant flashes of lightning ; and mingled with the loud roaring of the wind was a continuous roar ot thunder. It was the most terrible storm of that stormy year. It was long past midnight when it ceas ed ; and the tumult of the storm, and the agita tion occasioned by the interest lelt in the late of the unknown traveler, prevented sleep for many hours. The next morning was calm and bright.— Long before sunrise the crowds who. the previ ous clay, had thronged I lie bluffs, were hurry ing along the streets and sidewalks to learn the fate of the stranger. It was soon learned. The river was higher than on the previous day, and every vestige of the island had disappeared. Nothing but a broad expanse of dark, wild, rush ing waters was visible, hurrying on in a fierce, relentless tide. A thrill ol inexpressible horror, mingled with a strange feeling ot admiration, filied every heart, as the eye first rested on the spot where the brave young stranger had yielded up his Jite alone in the storm and darkness, and gone down to liis unknown and noteless grave.— "Why should he do it V' was the question on every tongue and in every mind. "What w'as his motive ? Why should he go down to cer tain death lor tfie sacrifice of strangers, when their own friends shrank from the sacri fice ?" While I was standing alone, looking out up on the river, after the spectators had with drawn, a carriage came tip. It contained Air. Stanton and his family. They looked earnestly upon the river lor some time in si lence. "Was it possible for hun to escape, uncle ?" asked the eldest of tile two ladies. Mr. Stanton had descended from the car riage and was standing at the door, which was open. He shook his head sadly, as he re plied : "I think not, Delia—l think not." Delia was very pale, and leaned her head a gainst ihe side of the carriage, as it laint and weak. Sne was really beautiful—a blonde, with rich auburn hair and clear brown eyes,— Her forehead was high and broad, and all her features were regular and delicate. The whole party remained silent for several minutes. She wa the first to speak. "I am glad to have yon all saved," she said : "hut I do not fell that I have any light to life on such terms. Why should any one die for me V "fie- loltf you to open the letter he gave von this morning, if he was not found," said Mr. Stanton. Miss Delia immediately produced a letter, which she opened. Alter locking at it a mo ment, her eyes tilled witl) tears, she handed it to Mr. Stanton. He read it aloud. 1 was standing near enough to hear distinct ly, and they seemed willing that I should hear. The note was brief : ♦'lf I do not return, give the reward—if I succeed—to your niece, Miss Delia Greene." That was all. Mr. Stanton turned the bit of paper over and over, as if there must be something more. Hut there was nothing. "Did you know him, Delia ?" asked Mr Stan ton. She bowed her head slightly, but did not speak. Mr. Stanton looked vexed ; and all the other members of the lamily uttered many ex clamations of surprise. "And you never told us ! Who was he? Where did you see him ?" and many'iike ques tions. She made no reply, but continued leaning a gainst the side of the carriage, weeping, and paler than before. "This is unaccountable, Delia," said Mr. Stan ton, sternly. "Was he a friend of yours ?" She did not reply immediately, but in a mo ment she said quite clearly and calinlv •'I met him once—he was my friend. I cannot tell you anything more about him." Her tone and manner were quiet and firm, and no one ventured to ask her any inore ques tions. Her distress was so evident and so deep, that it checked them all and kept them silent. Afier a little, the carriage drove away, and f went back to my hotel. The stranger had left little baggage, a few books, and some manuscripts. Mr. Stanton's family made diligent inquiry ol all Delia's for iner friend* and acquaintances, but none of them could tell aught about the stranger. No one ol all her friends could recall anything that ever seemed remotely to connect tier with the stran ger. Finding that he could learn nothing more, and feeling bound by the promise he had made, Mr. Stanton placed the five thousand dollars re waid at Miss Delia's disposal, and it was by tier placed at interest ; and tfie income thus derived served for tier support. And tfie secret which caused so much anxiety and inquiry she kept locked in her own heart, and no human power could tempt her from her fidelity. Deila never married. Within a year alter the events described above, siie went trom her native country, as a missionary, to a remote station in tfie Old World. "I shall never teturn," she said tome, on the eve of her departure. "You may k--ep these papers for your perusal, when 1 ain gone; and when you hear of tny death, make what use ol them you please." After fifteen years of successful labor, as teacher, in one ot the mission schools in the East—successful labor, of which even a Chris tian might feel a grateful pride—she, too, yiel ded up tier life tor the good of others; no! sud denly, and by violence, but the i ffect ot long continued toil and anxious application wrought its slow but certain work ; auU at tfie beginning of tfie year just closed, tier life and labor termi nated, and I can now reveal the history ot Hie unknown stranger by whom her life was once saved. His name was Leonard El wood, once a clerk ;n New Orleans. Pride and poverty, some years before I saw him, had impelled turn to to commit a crime—forgery, embezzlement, or some kindred act —aud its commission enriched him. 1 During a trip up the Missouri, about a )ear belore the commencement ot my narrative, he met with Miss Delia lireent, who was travel ing alone at the tune an though their acquain tance was necessarily briet, they loved each o ther belore the tune of parting came. When they parted, they were virtually engaged, and a constant correspondence was promised till they might meet again. She went to her home in Western Missouri, and he to do his business in the South. But during bis absence a clue to his crime—which had laid the Inundation ol his magnificent fortune—had (alien nto the hands of an enemy—one who h;.d long envied El wood's wealth, and sullered tiom his competition in trade. His ruin was sudden and complete.— With true courage, he wrote a lull account ol his crime and its exposure to Delia—it was the first letter he had wiiten—renouncing all claim to her hand, and bidding her to forget him. He managed to escape punishment; but ail his property was lost ; and, without friends or mo ney, lie wandered away, hoping to find em ployment in some obscure poition ot the coun try, where he might remain unknown. But wherever he went tor employment—and his ed ucation and business habits would, under ordi nal j| circumstances, have secuieii him a situa tion — the story ol his crime went also ; and thus, duven trom place to place, he at last be came hopeless and Uespaii iug. Finding no opportunity ol living honestly, and firiuly re solved not to live in any other manner, he came to the banks of the Missouri on the same day that Miss Delia reached them on the opposite side. It was one ol those strange coincidences that sometimes occur. Poverty, distress and remotse had in one year, so changed him, that when they met she did not recognize him. He placed in her hand the sealed note wlych he had hastily written belore lie unertook the perilous enterpiise, and a portrait taken during the days of his prosperity. She remembered him when he s|>oke. "i\ly life is worthless," tie said ; "it i can save you, it will be some a toneineni tor ttie past. Do not tegret my late. It is the happiest that could befall me. Fare well." They parted. He lies beneath the turbid waters ol the Missouri : she, in a quiet grave on the shores of the .-Rgt-an Sea. political. THE REPUBLICANS AND CORRUPTION. The Republicans are making a great fuss just now over their one-sided investigation anil ir poit on the subject of corruption, bdt they ap pear to forget, or at I. Ast wish the people to for get, their position, complicity and active par ticipation m that very business, l'he infamous course of the last Republican Legislature in this Slate will not soon pass from the remembrance of the people, and among the daikest pages in the history ol Pennsylvania will be those which record the notoriously corrupt and disgraceful acts of the majority of the members. Special legislation to advance the interests ot a dishon est, lobby, and a neglect of the leading concerns of this great Commonwealth, distinguished the Republican members beyond all precedent, a mercenary purpose being at the bottom of all. In New York, where the Republicans, too, were in power, rank rascality and unscrupulous corruption stalked forth hand in hand. The New Y'oik Tribune , in remarking upon the acts of the Republican Legislature of that Slate, de- I nominated the majority "an atrocious confeder acy ol public robbers," who "were debauched by wholesale bribery." That journal thanked j God when they adjourned, consoling itself with the belief that "it is not possible another body *so reckless not merely ol right but of decency whom: \I MBI:K, 2905. VOL. 3. NO. 48. not merely corrupt but shameless—will be as sembled ID our ha lls ot legislation within the next ten years." I he New York Tinus, in speaking of the ap pliances useil to pass the passenger railway scneines ot 'the shameless and prostituted in triguers tor monopolies," said : '•What public interest could lead members from the interior obstinately to resist everv a mendinent, and force the bills through in their most obnoxious shape? What public motive could prompt honorable members from Utioa, Irom Oswego, Iroin Rochestei or Buffalo, to persist against every dictate of justice, and in spite of the most earnest remonstrances—in fix ing upon the people of New Rork the most op pressive monopolies ever fastened opon any ci ty ? Why should country members insist, with such uncompiomising pertinacity, on giving away grants lor which responsible men were willing to pay a million dollars? "There is on I y one answer to these inquiries Ftiey were bribed to do so. Their votes were bought and paid lor. If the Grand Jury of Al bany county would do its duty—if respectable men. cognizant of the facts, would givejuslice the benefit of their knowledge—we believe a score of members, at the lowest estimate, would be indicted, tried, convicted and sent to the penitentiary for the crime of selling the public interests to put money in their own pockets." The New York Express (American) in allu ding to ttie denunciations ol the Republican press in this regard, made use of the annexed language, which is worthy of betug placed along side of the tirade!, of the Republicans touch in" "official corruptions." We quote : "The Republican party in its State policy professed to be the peculiar friends of economy, retrenchment and reform. We have seen how shamefully those professions have been falsified. 'The indignation of such journals as the Tribune and Post is all moonshine. It is not worth a nything. The object ol it is to create an im pression that 'Republicanism and profligate le gislation are not Siamese twins, and m°so far to prepare the way to asking the people to give the same party another trial in the Capital next year. Rut, green as the people are in some things, we apprehend they are not so verdant as the wire-pullers imagine. Nor can anybody he humbugged, either, by the show of public virtue on the part of the Governor, in vetoing that monstrous scheme of public plunder, the Gridiron Railway bills. There was a perfect un derstanding that most of the vetoed bills should pass. Tlie people will merely look upon the Governor as having given a sly wink to the Le gislature, and whispered, "You know you are strong enough to pass these bills, but it is belter I should vote them, so as to save appearances with the public, and not cast the whole odium upon the Republican party." "Another circumstance going to show fhat the "virtuous indignation" of the Republican party is all a sham, is the profound silence they maintain upon the very generally credited ru mor that the "Albany Regency gets a million of dollars from the Gridiron, to be used as an elec tioneering fund to carry this State for the nom inees of the Sectional Convention at Chicago." It is hardly necessary to multiply proofs of the notorious greed ol the Republican party when in power, but, with a view ol calling to mind some striking reminiscences touching the lea ding spirits of the Chicago Convention, eex tract I ruin the Uniontown (Pa.) Genius of Lib crhj, the lollowing apposite paragraph : "It was singularly proper that George Ash mun should preside over the body that nomina ted Abraham Lincoln lor the Presidency. He is the man who introduced the resolutions into Congress, for which Lincoln voted, declai in" the Mexican war unjust, unconstitutional, and wrong. Their course on that question drove both Ashmun and Lincoln from puolic life, from which they did not emerge until Lincoln was, in 185S, put up against Judge Douglas for the Senate, and Ashmun appeared on the boards at Chicago, as President ol tn<? Republican Con vention. In ISS/, Ashmun figured prominent ly for a short lime as a lobby member of Con gress, engaged in procuring the passage of the "lre wool" tarill adopted in that year. He ac ted as the agent ol Lawrence, Stone iV Co , who expended $70,000 in procuring the pas sage of that act, of which sum JJshmun got some SI,OOO, 'l'hurlow Weed some ST,OOO, and James Watson Webb got a furnished house at Washington t welt stocked unth provisions and liquors, to which members could be invited and feasted, while being impressed with the impor tance of this unjust measure to the elmericun woxl growei . Ashmun is the very man to play the pai t he did at Chicago, and to denounce the Administration as he did in his speech. A scamp and a knave himself, it was natural for him lo seek to bring others down to iiis level. In.ag.ne such a man as Lincoln President, and sucti jobbers as George Ashmun about, and it is not difficult lo determine what sort of morality we would have in Congress and the White House. Ihe people will take care, however, thai no such calamity falls upon the country, by lepudiating the Cincr.go Convention and all its doings." Now, is it not amusing to find shameless, mercenary and unscrupulous vagabonds, like the Republicans, shouting at the full vent of their lungs, "corruptions and frauds ?" A crowd With hands lull of public plunder, dirty with the bribes of rascally lobbyists and their pockets lined with the fruits of their legislative shame. The people understand the dishonest device of those who cry "stop thief' to escape the punishment they merit, and next November, the Republicans will discover the tact.—Penn syloaaian. THE FOLLOWING occurred in a school near London : Teacher—"What rart ot speech is egg ?" Boy—"Noun, sir !" Teacher—"VV hat's its gender ?" Boy—"Can't tell sir." Teacher—'ls it masculine, or feminine ?" Boy "f'an'l say, sir, till it's hatched."

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