Newspaper of Bedford Gazette, March 16, 1855, Page 1

BY GEO. iv. Rowniv. NEW SERIES. Select {loctrn. \0 GOIM The following verses by that sweetest of Ameri ran poete-ses, Mr-. Lyha Huntley Sigourney. sug jipsteii by the wonts in the 14tli P.-alm of David, '•The fool hath -ai>l in his heart, There is no God," is one of the finest things in the language: "A'o Goil' No God!'* The simplest flower That on the wild i< found, Shrink-, as it drinks its cup of dew, And trembles at the sound: "No God"—a?Totiisht-d Krho cries Eiom out her cavern hoar. And every wandering bird that .'lies Reproves the Atheist-lore. The solemn forest lifts its head, The Almighty to proclaim, The brooklet, on is crystal urn, Dofh leap to grave his name. How swell-ihe deep and. vengeful sea, Along his billowy track, The red Vesuvius opens his mouth To hurl the falsehood back. The palm-tree, with its princely crest, The cocoa's leafy shade. The bread fruit bending to its lord, In von far-Island glade; ' The winged seeds, that, borne by winds, The roving sparrows feed. The melon, on the de-eif sands, Confute the scomers creed. "No God !" With indignation high, T ie tervent Fun is slirr'd, And tile pale Moon turns paler still, At such an imp ous word ; And from their burning thrones, the Stars Look down with angry eye, That thus a worm of dust should rnock Eternal majesty. Tin; LOST Nssii-IT OF RNM-, OR, THE CAPTIVITY OF FRANCIS SLGim Among the inhabitants of t lie beautiful val ley of Wyoming, at the period of its invasion lv that blood thirsty band ot tories and savages wiio, with a barbarity seldom equalled, laid waste and destroyed every vestige ot that love !v settlement, murdering the inhabitants and dri ving off their cattle, was a Quaker bv the name of Jonathan Slocum, whose peaceful dis position and many acts of kindness to the Indi ans, saved his dwelling fiom the torch, and his Jamilv from annoyance, while his neighbors uere butchered, their houses burnt, and their children taken captive. This impunity, how ever, was of short duration. Mr. Slocum had a son, Giles, who was-in the battles, and it is snpposed that the Indians becoming aware of the l.ict, determined on a bioodv revenge. In the family of Mr. S. was the wife of a neighbor, who had been taken captive by tbe Indians, and her two sons, one filteen and the otlmr twelve years ol age. One morning in November, some four months after the bloody massacre which made tile valley a desolation, a party of redskin warriors was seen prowuing around the vicinity of Wiiksbarre Fort. The two boys had gone to the grindstone to sharper, a knife, and the wo men were engaged in their domestic duties, when Mrs. Slocum was startled by a shot, and a shriek from one of the l-ovs. Stepping to the door, she beheld a swarthv warrior, in the act of scalping the oldest hoy with the knife he had been grinding. Horror stricken at the sight she staggered back, and was followed by the In dian, with the still w arm and reeking scalp in his hand. Looking alxrnt him for plunder, he discovered nothing to tempt his cupidity, worth the risk of carrying off, but a utile s>n of Mrs. Slocum, who stood in his way as he turned to the door. Seizing him in his arms, he was about to depart, when Mrs. S., with ail a mother's feeling caught him by the arm and besought him, in tones of earnest entreaty, not to deprive hero! her boy. "See!" said she, "he can do thee no good, he is lame." Dropping the boy, he took up a little daugh ter of five years, who bad crouched in fear bt- i'l a high-hacked ciiair, and was making his way out when the mother again stopped him, ar.il pleaded for her child. In the most pathet ic tones, she implored him to leave her bright eyed darling, the light of her home, and thejoy other household. As well might sfie have wast ed In r words upon the stern rocks or the idle wind : the rugged nature of the savage was not to he moved by the earnest appeals ofthe pale faced squaw. Grasping with one hand the TTiantle which enwrapt him, and with the other the dress of her child, she clung to both with a tenacity which had well nigh accomplished te*r purpose: finding himselfiinpeded in his exit, ard tearful of approaching assistance, the savage drew his tomahawk to finish at a blow her im portunity and her life. Reading in his eyes his itern determination, and wrought to a pilch of agony beyond which her system refused to go, yielded her grasp, and sank in a swoon at his feet. The Indian, relieved ot her annoy ance, now took his departure with little Fran ks m his arms, and as he passed through the yard, seized upon the other son of Mrs. Kings h'V, whom he also bore off a prisoner. All 'his was the scene of but a few moments, vet how much of terror and heart-breaking agony was embraced within that short period of time. How many years of terrible suspence and deep despair had their birth in those few brief mo ments. .\f rs . Kingslev who had stood a terri fied beholder of the scene, when she saw her second and only living child, torn from her and carried into captivity, sank under the af "iction and gave herself up to a stolid apathy, little short of despair. One of .Mrs. Slocum's children had, with a sagacity beyond hrr years, at the first appearance of the savages snatched op the youngest child and tied to the tort, where she gave the alarm, and a paitv started at once for the house, hut the Indians were al ready beyond the reach of successful pursuit. In a short time after the above melancholy bereavement, Mrs. Slocum was called upon to part with her husband and father, who were both shot and scalped by a party of Indians, while thdderjng cattle near the house. Thus iri the short space of six weeks, was that happy household broken up and destroyed, and its sur viving members wrapped in misery as wifh a mantle. Her religion sustained Mrs. Slocum in her day of trial, and sire threw herself and her nine remaining children upon the mercy .of her Heavenly Father, and bow ed her head, without a murmur, to His decrees. For the dead she did not mourn : they were at rest, and no sorrow or useless repinings could restore them to her again. Rot her lost daughter, her darling Frances, was ever present in her thoughts,— Like Rachael weeping for her chidren, she re fused to be comforted, and entertained a lively hope that she would one day be restored to her arms again. Her spirits seemed (moved up with this hope, and she lived in the anticipation of again seeing her and pressing Iter to Iter bo som. Days, months arid years rolled on, anil the lamp of hope still burned as brightly as ever.— \o tidings had ever reached her of her child, and ail gave her up Hut her poor heart stricken mother. When peace was declared, and many captives returned to their homes and families, she sent twoo) her sons to Canada in search of their lost sister. They sought her wherever was the slightest chance of her presence. They offered rewards for her recovery, but all in vain: and they returned to tbeir mother with the cheerless tiding, convinced of her death. Not so with her. She felt satisfied that her Frances still lived, and would not listen to any other supposition. At length her long cherished hope seemed to he realized—as a woman was found among the Indians, who had been carried away when a child from tlp*Susquehana, and she was sent for by Mrs. Slocum. who cherish.d her, anil endeavored to feel that her child was re stored. But the invisible link which binds a mother to her offspring was wanting, and the bereaved mother was bereaved still. The found ling, too, felt that she was not the long-lost arid looked for daughter, and ultimately returned to her Indian friends. Years rolled on. Time had whitened the locks of the confiding mother with age : her sons had passed the meridian of life, and their chil dren had grown to manhood, and yet she still entertained the belief that her Francis lived. At h ngth she was called aw av to join her husband in another world, and she went "down into the grave mourning" that she was not permitted this side the grave to embrace h*-r darling. Some years alter her death, when her broth ers weregrev-haired men, and when all had ceased to entertain a thought of the lost sister, their feelings were aroused by an announce ment which placed beyond question the tact that she still lived and remembered her f<>r iner home and friends. An Indian agent in Ohio wrote to the editor of one of the new spa pers in Pennsylvania, informing him that he had seen and talked with a white woman among the Indians, who had told him that tier name was Slocurn, that her father was a Qua ker, and wore a broad brimmed hat. That he lived at a place on the Susquehanna river, which was irnar a tow n where there was a fort, and that she was taken from thence while a child, hv the Indians. This Utter the editor— who deemed the matter a hoax—threw among his waste papers, where it laid for a year or more, until his wife, one dav in looking them over, came across it. Her sympathetic feelings were aroused,and she sent it to the Intelligen cer, in which it vv as published. It happened that, on account of a temperance address it con tained, an extra number was printed, one of which found its way to Wyoming, and the two brothers and a sister immediately started to the West to find the Jong lost Frances. They found lor, but oh, how changed ! She was now art aged woman, with grand-children about her, and fast approaching the gravp. The interview which took place between the long separated brothers and sisters was affecting in the ex treme. She informed them through an interpreter, (she had lost her native language) that after her capture she was treated in the most tender man ner by the Indians, who took Iter to their towns, where site soon became attached to their roving, romantic life, and came to dread being discovered by her friends. When she grew up and her foster parents died, she married a young chief of the LMawares, (the tribe to which her captors belonged) and after his death she joined the Miamis with her people, and married again. She had been a widow now for many years, children and grand-children were growing up around her, and herself was passing pleasantly away. She was comparatively wealthy, hav ing a large stock and all the rude comforts of an Indian lite in abundance, besides one thou sand dollars in specie that she had saved from an annuity which as an Indian, she had drawn from Government. After spending several days with her, her friends bade her a final farewell.— She died a few years since, and was hurried with considerable pomp, for she was regarded as a queen among her people. £\ci(rmrut at the City Hotel. One of the most dastardly outrages we have ever heard of, occurred at the City Hotel yes terday morning. A gentleman named Thomas A.Slavmaker, a resident of Lancaster, arrived in this city and took rooms at the hotel the night previous. In company with him were a colored female and child, which he was con veying to his aunt's residence, Albany, White side county, 111. Yesterday morning Mr. Slay maker accompanied the woman to the breakfast table, to see that she was properly attended to. The dining-room was pretty well supplied with BEDFORD, PA. FRIDAY MORNING, MARCH 16, 1855. waiters, and from their actions, Mr. S. felt ap prehensive something was wrong. Alter his charge had finished her meal, she started to go up stairs, but just as she reached the first step, the steward ol tlm house, surrounded by a doz en darkeys, caught heT by the arms and pulled her back. She was astounded, and told them to release her. Mr. Slavmaker immediately demanded what such ruthless conduct meant. — He was answered that she was a slave, and that she should proceed no further—that they were determined to relieve him of her care. He went torward to lender her assistance, and while endeavoring to do so, one of the villains dealt him a severe blow on the right cheek, which caused him to (all against the table with great force. He was crippled in one of his legs, and consequently was unable to give much aid. The female was dragged |v Iter captors through the room, by the rear door, into the allev, w here they were joined by one L. Dav is, proprietor of a barber shop on Third street, adjoining the tele graph office, w ho also laid hold of her. She was drugged down Third street in a violent manner, and although she continually screamed that she was not as ave, and never had been, and re quested them to unhand her, they refused to let her go. She was taken into Davis's shop and secreted in the cellar, two or three remain ing to watch her. Iti the meantime the news of tire outrage had spread through the hotel and in the neigh borhood, and excitement was at its highest pitch. The house was crowded, and the side ex alk in front perfectly jammed. Every one seemed to take a deep interest in the matter, and w hen Mr. Slavmaker exhibited papers cer tified to by the proper authorities ot Lancaster county, showing that the woman was free, tbe indignation of those present knew no bouuds. Steps xvere immediately taken to have her re leased, and iri a shoit time she was again placed in her apartment at the City Hotel. Tbe po lice were sent for, but for some cause no arrests were made: why, we cannot imagine. The crowd then dispersed. We would here state that no blame should be attached to Messrs. Glass Ac Carr, a they did everything in their power to have the matter righted. They exert ed themselves to have tlit* female liberated, and discharged fioin their service every one known to tlo-m to be connected in the transaction. We presume the case was investigated by the Underground Railroad, as we wrr" shown a note signed by Dr. Delaney, president of a club in this citv, directed "to the friends of freedom in the United States,"' in which it was stated that the Board bad examined the case of the two colored females, (the woman and her child) and satisfied that they were free persons. What flintier is it whether the hoard were satis fied or not ? Are the law s of the land to he set at defiance, with impunity,by a set of ruth less vagabonds ? Shall a stranger, passing through our city with persons who have been raised from infancy in the family of a friend, he insulted and maltreated in a manner which would be a disgrace to anv community, and es pecially one w here law and order should reign supreme ? We demand that thp individuals engaged in the altove transaction lie arrested and made to answer for their conduct. It was un doubtedly a preconcerted movement, else whv would so many servar ts be in the dining room at the very time they were h ast needed, or why would one be waiting outside? No doubt the barhei-shop mentioned is the depot of the Underground Railroad, and that the seizor was made under direction of the club we feel equally certain. We heard one of the officers of the Board defiantly exclaim: '■• lam Presi dent of it, and T don't care who knows it!"— The paper prepared for Mr. Slaytnaker will, we presume, be highly valued by that gentle man, and referred to by him as an act of great condescension on the part of the Board ! One of the darkies implicated stated yester day toa gentleman connected with the City Motel that a meeting of colored folks was held on Tusriay night, shortly after the arrival of Mr. Slaymaker, at which it was resolved that Weill Cooper—the name of the female—should be rescued in precisely the same manner, nar rated above. She was to be securely confined until Mr. S.'s departure, and a delegation of Africans was to be placed at the railroad depot, Allegheny, to rapture tlm child when taken upon the cars. He also asserted that the prin cipal dopot of the underground railroad was in Allegheny city. The female was restored bv the Mayor's police, after considerable difficulty. —Pittsburg Union, .March 8. From the Chicago Press. Ten Persons Perished on the Prairies We are furnished by a gentleman from Lafay ette, Ind., with the details of a nvnor current in that city on Thursday, which fills the mind with horror, in view the suti'trings ol the par ty to whom it refers. On the Saturday preceding the memorable storm of the 21st of January, two families num bering ten persons, moving from Southern In diana to northern Illinois, arrived at Oxford, the county seat of Benton county, Ind., about forty miles north-west of Lafayette, with two ox teams, and >ll provided with necessaries for ttie road. They remained there through the storm, and on Monday morning resumed their journey. La>t Tuesday morning a man passing over the prairie, only about five miles from Ox lord, came ujion a sight which filled him with horror. The carcasses of two oxen, from which the viscera had heen removed, lay upon the ground. Inside ol one of them were the frozen bodies of four children, and in other the frozen corpse of the mother with a nursing infant at her breast. Under the snow was a heap of ashes in which the iron of the wagons showed that the party had broken up, and burned every thing they had in them, in the effort to save their lives. Not far from this spot was found the body of tlie ether woman of the party, partly concealed in a snow drift, and near her, one of the men. The two other men had not ,been Freedom of Thought and Opinion. I found. i i It is probable that the party bpcame inextrica ! bly involved in Ihe snow drifts on the bleak prairie, and lost their presence of mind. After burning up their wagons, it would seem that the men had killed two of the oxen for a shelter to those found in them, and then, accompanied bv one woman, vainly endeavored to reach the | town they had left, and procure aid to rescue their companions. The two other oxen had wandered ofT. There was nothing about the | persons to indicate who they were, and nothing more is known about them than was accident ally communicated hy them during their brief stay at Oxford. DON'T IR OE HIM. It was Saturday night. Another week of toil and anxiety had rolled away into the dark chasm of the Past. All over our city the din of labor was hushed, and the street? were crow ded with people hurrying homewards, thankful that the morrow was a "dav of rest." We dear |ly love Saturday night. It brings a feeling ol relief, a consciousness that (or one dav, at least, worldly cares and responsibilities can be laid a side. It brings a feeling of deep gratitude to i Providence that we are very near the blessed Sabbath, each one of which seems like a brief truce in the ba'ttle qf life. Glad that one week's duty was ended, we walked slowly down the street, passing every few paces men and hoys, who with their tin din : ner buckets swinging lightly in their hands, thronged along the sidewalk. It was just dusk. The stores arid shops were all illuminated, and as we came to the corner of Third and Vine streets, a pale, cadaverous little man was light ping the street lamp. Lamp-lighters are curious looking men—they have a ghastly, supernatur al appearance, and as they flit silently from : lamp fo lamp, one might aptlv moralize upon 'their duty. We noticed, also, thai the "coffee ! houses" were thronged that evening. Thev do a good litis in ess on a Saturday night. Men who ; have been sober all the week, are wont to drink then. And facilities for getting drunk here ■are very good. We doubt whether there is a city in the whole Union of the same population that j has more or better patronized grog-shops than j ours. "Coffee-houses" are on almost every cor ner, and two or three in each square. "Coffee houses," indeed! You can get everything ! diinkable except coffee ! Call them by the old fashioned, regular title—"grog shops"—it's mom proper. Well, then, every grog-shop that we passed had a crow d about its "bar," ami the light (lash ed gaily upon an array of tempting and newly filled decanters. Walking before us, there were three young men—foundry-men, we judged by their dress. As they came near a certain popu lar saloon, one of them said— "Come, hoys, let's go in and take something!" "I'm in," answered the youngest of the party; "come on, Hill." But the man addressed as "Bill" did not seem willing to go, though he glanced longingly to wards the brilliant bar-room. "Nonsense! come along: it's Saturday night, yon know," urged his friend. "No, thank vnu, I won't drink to-night ; I don't feel Well." "But a glass of old Bourbon will do you—" At this instant, the man who had accepted the speaker's invitation so readily, approached him, and whispered— "Don't urge Bill; lie's got a wife and family." "Bill" did not hear him. "Well," continued the tempter, "If you don't j want anything, stay here until Tom and I come out." And into the saloon they went. We paused a few moments to notice the man who had refused to join his friends in a social glass of poison. Me was a voting good-looking fellow, but one who had evidently seen many hard "sprees" of drinking and carousing.— "Now," we thought, "he is trying to give up his wretched habit, and be a sober, respectable, man—for "//e's yof a wife and family." Yes. that was the mystic chain which hound him. It was the strong spell that banished alco hol with all its terrors and its troubles from his lips. He had others to care for, now, and must resist temptation. It cost him an effort—a ; strong one. too. There w ere his companions; j there was the gay saloon, the flaming decanters. He heard merriment, jokes, and laughter. But then came a vision of his home: of one whom he had promised to cherish, honor and love for i ever. Of little OIIPS, perhaps, anxiously listen ! ing for their father's step. He dare not yield a single glass, though his old appetite pressed him j desperately. Between him and alcohol there 1 was hut one barrier, one guard—" t cije and family." Even his companion thought of this. He ! must have known the appetite was strong and not easily satisfied. He must have pictured fo • himself the evil consequences of one indulgence. Else why did he whisper to the tempter—don't urge him ; "he's got a wife and family." If there is any thing on earth capable of con trolling man's passions, it is the feeling that helpless beings are dependent upon him. He may he reckless as to himself; careless of life even, hut for those he loves tie w ill he pru j dent and self-denying. Mot a day passes but we see instances of this. The young man pau ses in some rash act, not for his own sake, but for his parent's; lor his MOTHER'S. The husband denies himself of old enjoyments because his i wife and children cannot participate in them. And he shuns a deed of shame, lest disgrace | rest upon their innocent heads. What nerves a man in action, clieprs him in toil, joins him in pleasure ? What sheds a halo ' of hope around his path, and stimulates him in j every duty 1 What morethan all else on earth, constrains him to a virtuous and honorable path? It is the blessed influence of HOME, (he smiles of loved ones, —"the wife and family." Young man, you acted a hero's part that night j —the part of honor, manliness and love. And ! your companion, also, though unable to resist temptation, showed that the cords of tenderness were still uuscorched in his breast. He had yet the feeling of a man, a sympathy for those whom his friend was bound to treat affectionate ly like a husband and a father. He had all these feelings, or he never would have whispered,— "Don't urge him, he's got a wife and family." There is a great d> al of love and kindness in this world yet.— Cincinnati Times. SENATOR SEWARD'S SPEECH. Those who seek to disfranchise citizen" on account of their birth place, and their reli gious sentiments, should read and reflect |ion the follow ing extract from a speech of VVm. H. Seward, delivered recent yin Congress. We would especially call the attention of the intel ligent editors who boasted that Mr. Seward's election was a Know-Nothing victory, to his denunciation of that false spirit, which assassin like is secretly seeking to drive freemen from the home of the oppressed—the asylum of liber ty. Mr. Sew ard speaks the sentiments of eve ry honest heart, and administers aw ithering re buke to those who in their malignity are stirring up the Worst passions oft lie human heait by fan ning the flame of fanatical bigotry. I am not allowed, sir, to reach the merits of this question without alluding to a body of men who sport in the public gaze under a name which I hardly know how to repeat in the pre sence of so grave and reverend assemblage as this—the Know-Nothings. They are said to have contrived their disguise with so much in genuity, that one w ho is not a novitiate cannot den v a knowledge of their ceremonies and prin ciples, without implying bis communion and membership with them. Nevertheless, I must . replv to the Senator from Illinois, {Mr. Doug lass.) who charges me among others, with such an amliation, that I have no knowledge of that body of men, other than what is afforded me by the publications of the day. Thus informed I understand the Know-Nothings to be a "Secret society or order, consisting of two or three grades, col leagued and" mutually sworn fo elect individuals of their own Order, or at least per sons maintaing the principles which that Order entertains, to all offices of trust and profit in the ; United States. Those principles I understand to he, in general the same which before the or ; ganizatiun of the Know Nothings, passed under the name of Native Americanism. I, Sir, have no connection with that Order. T am under no responsibility for its doings, and I have not the least sympathy with its principles or senti ments. I belong to one voluntary Association of men, which has to do with spiritual affairs.— It is the Christian Church—that branch of it, all imperfect though I think it is, which accor ding to my notions, most nearly retains in their puril v, fhe instruction? of the Gospel. That As sociation is an open one which performs all its rites, and gives all its instructions with publici ty, and invites every man, in the language of its Divine Founder, to come in and partake of the privileges with which lie invested it, and of the blessings which He promises. 1 belong to a temporal society of men ; and that is the po litical parlv which, according to my nations, embodies most fully and rnost truly, although I confess, as in the other case, very inadequately, the principles of the Declaration of Indepen dence and of the Constitution of the United States. This Association also, of which I have last spoken, is an open one. All its transac tions are conducted in the broad daylight, and it invites all citizens, and all men who become subjects of the power of this Government, of whatever clime or race they may be. to enter into its ranks, to participate in its labors, and to co-operate in maintaining good government and advancing the cause o! Human Nature. These two Associations, the one spiritual anil the oth er fen.poral, are the onlv voluntary Associa tions to which I evi r belonged since I b-carne a man ; and, unless I am bereft of reason, they are the onlv Associations of men to which I shall ever suffer mvself to belong. Secret so cieties, sir! Before I would place my right hand between the hands of other men, in a secret Lodge, Order, Class, or Council, and bending my knee before them, for any object, personal or political, good or bad, I would pray God that that hand and that knee might he paralyzed, 'and that I might become an object of pity and even of the mockery of my fellow men. Swear, Sir!—l, a man, an American citizen, a Chris tian—swear to submit myself to the guidance and direction of other men, surrendering my own judgment to their judgments, and mv own conscience to their keeping ! No, no, Sir. I know quite well the fallibility of my own judg ment, and my liability to fall into prror and temptation. I therefore know too well the dan ger of confiding power to irresponsible hands to make mvself a slave. Proscribe a man, Sir, be cause he was not horn in the same town, or county, or State, or country in which I was born ! Why, Sir, Ido most earnestly and most affectionately advise all persons hereafter to be horn in the United States, and if tliey can, without any inconvenience, to be born in the State of New York, and thus avoid a great deal ot trouble for themselves and for others. (Laugh ter.] Moreover, Ido most affect innately enjoin upon all such persons as are hereafter to be born, that they be born of fathers and of mothers, of grandfathers and of grandmothers, of pure A merican hlodif. Still more, Sir, Ido affection ately enjoin upon all who shall thus have the wisdom to come into existence 011 this side of the Atlantic, and of such pure and untainted an cestry, to be either born in the Protestant faith, or to be converted as speedily as possible to that good and true Protestant Church, within whose pale I myself am accustomed to worship. Thus, being born white, they will be born free. But, Mr. President, this is the length and this is th>* bredth of my connection with the new and mys terious order of patriots. And, if there.,shall TERAIS, $2 PER YEAR. VOL XXIII, NO. 31. hereafter come among us persons who, because from ignorance they may not he able to profit by my advice and counsel,shall he born in for eign lands; or even if there shall be any who, in despite of my counsel, shall persist in being Roman Catholics, or Jews, or Turks, or Chi nese, all I can say in regard to thern is, that I hate done my duty, and I shall not add'a feath er's freight to the disabilities which they will incur by their presumption and perverseness. From the Home Journal. What the I>ocfos* has to say! WHAT HE THINKS OF LITTLE GfRLS. Tiie little girl is supposed to occupy a posi tion between infancy and maturity. It is the budding season of human nature's most glorious product—woman : the period When nature be gins to offer securities lor the future—when life begins to put on its tangible realities—when motive and action begin to be understood as re lated, and regarded as something supe/ior to impulse. The little girl begins to learn that the world is not a fairy field, where every thought and wish is to he gratified : but rather, that goodness of character, which she has been taught to prize above all things, is only gained by bear ing manv crosses. She knows that her wishes are often answered to make her happy, and is ♦old that when they are denied, it is for her good: but this is a mystery she rannot unravel; indeed; she sometimes thinks it cannot be so, for her feelings are to the contrary. She tries to rea son, hut it does not help her much, for the mind, like the bodv, is in its hud, and has yet to open to the light of intelligence and understanding.— She must v ,J t wait and rely upon her mother, who knows best, for she has been a little girl, too, but is older and much wiser now. The little girl learned her A B C's when she did not comprehend what fhey meant: hn{ how, by them she reads, and uhderstands that it is the way to learn much that she has yet to know. It seems strange, at first, how printed words can tell us of things far away; us about parts of the world we can never see • and fell us what other people have thought, and and did, who lived thousands of years ago. The world is full of knowledge, and it is only those who read who can know much of it. The lit tle girl knows little cf the happiness that is in stor- for her, to he attained through the tasks that are set before her; for it is only when she has grown older, and the mind unfolds itself, that she can fully comprehend the' object of what she is now taught to do. The mother knows well, and the little girl should be thank ful that she has some one to guide her young mind in the way that will make her a happy and useful woman. The little girl is told that, as time goes on, she will, by and by, become a woman: and that fin ally, life in this wot Id will come to an end, and then that her spirit will go to another, a wiser and betlpr state of existence, which has no end. But of this she cannot comprehend the how, the why, nor the wherefore, and is only told in ex planation, that there is a great and good Being who has ordered it so, and that his will can nevi er he changed, and that she must wait until she is older before she can know much about it.— She has been taught the child's ptayer, and she repeats it every night, and in the innocence of her heart she is very happy and sleeps well af terwards. And now, my dear little girls, let the Doctor say a few words directly to you, for some of you who will read this, he knows very well; but it is meant equally for all. I have known many little girls in my time, and have watched some from infancy tip, and have known many who have grown to be women of all ages in hie; and of all created beings. I know none that are so blessed, so happy, so pure and so loved, as the good little girl who has kind parents to care lor her. Mind you that I say, she must be a good little girl. Remember, therefore, not to be im patient to grow- up, for with more years will cotv.e care, perplexity, and perhaps sorrow.— Time deals so gently with thee now, and the breath of the morning breathes so cheerily with tliv curls, thy cheeks bloom so richiv w-ith health, thy eyes sparkle so brightly, thy heart is so guileless, and thv laugh so full ofglee: why shouldst thou wish to grow older 1 for thou art dear to every one ; even the Doctor whom you may think so hard-hearted, loves the good lit tle girl.— THE DOCTOR. A terrible smash-up occurred on Friday, a bout G o'clock A. M., on the Harrisburg and Lancaster R. R., six miles below Middletown, bv which twenty one freight cars Were wrecked and two men seriously injured. It happened in this way : As two freight trains were pro ceeding along in close proximity* one of the rails gave way, either from frost or some defect in the iron, just as the locomotive of the first train had passed over, which threw all the cars off the track, and before the second train could be stopped, it had run into and completely wrecked twenty-one of them. The two men injured were breakmpn: one had his leg broken, and the other his foot hadlv mashed. The trains were coming west, and were owned, except the locomotives, by private parties.— Pitts. Post, of the f)M, Easton (I'd.,) Argus, says, a party of twenty-five active, hearty young mechanics, left Easton for Kansas, on Monday morning of last week. They were all sober hard-working fellows, just the kind of material for a new country. They will be followed by others in eight or ten days. Galveston News.—O. C. Hartley, Esq., from our neighboring borough of Bed ford, is the Democratic nominee for Mayor of the city of Galveston. Mr. Hartley commands the esteem of all the citizens of that city, and M ill doubt less be elected. He has a Kno\v-\othing com petitor.— Johnstown Echo.