Mt. Vernon Republican (Mount Vernon, Ohio : 1854), 1860-07-26

              i ! 'JBfflgWBMaMCBMMWMI-' JW ' "' 1 " - - mm mm ill in i 1 1 UJ Miyllliiy o ; ; ,; Vol "VI Campaign Songs for the Wide Awake Clubs. Am A Wtt Sheet and a Flowing Sea. h, hear you not the wild huzzas That come from every State; For honest Unci Abram L., The people's candidate. He is our choice our aomince, A self-made man and true; We'll show the Democrats this fall What honest Abe can do. Cuonus Then give us Abo and Hamlin too, To guide our gallant ship, With Seward, Sumner, Chase and Clay, And then a merry trip. Come, Granny Buck, you'd better go, While jou can see the way; For I fear your nerves won't stand the shock, On next election day. So take your hat What's that you say? You are so cpld you shiver "Why that's the way you'll feel, my dear, When sailing up Salt River. CiioBUs-Tben give us Abe and Hamlin too.&c. I hear that Dug. is half inclinod To give us all leg-bail, Preferring excrciso on foot To riding on a rail. For Abe his one already mauled Upon (he White House plan; If once Dug. gets astride of that, He is a used up man, 'CuoBUs-Then give us Abe and Hamlin too,&c. Come rally with us here to night, Be ''Wide Awake" for fun, 'For wo shall surely win the day, Before old sixty-one. From North to South, from Eist to West, Our power shall be felt, -1 tell you fight with all your might, For Abe shall hare the Hell. Cuonus Then give us Abe and Hamlin too To guido our gallant ship, With Seward, Sumner,Chaso and Clay, And then a merry trip. Who is Dead? BY JOHN A. WILLIS. VILLAGE. Tolling solemnly, and slow, Swings the little village bell, MVhile doth pause the passer by, Sadden'd by the knell! 1-Sadden'd as he passeth by, Praying for the spirit fled vVhilo murm'reth, with a sigh, 'Who is dead!" 'Treading solemnly, and slow, Comes the little village throng, v5Vho, with Pastor at thoir head, Bear the corpse along! Whilst the children cease their play-Drawing nearer, half in dread Wondering as it passcth onward, "Who is dead!" A nd the busy workmen ceaso Gathering, the windows round V? hilst their upraised hammers all Fall without a sound! " Tis the coffin of a child-God rest light its little bead! Go d, presorve our little ones!" "Who is dead!" Bn ikon is tho number now, j Ml had learned to think complete! On i familiar face is gone, 1 low, from church and street! Ant I the busy query runs, 1 'ill, bofore the day is sped, B'o. n the smallest ono could tell yen, "Who is dead!" CITY. Tol ling solemnly and slow, S wings the city's sole on bell, Hut tho passer burnetii by, . H ;eding, hearing not the knell-To s ome busy purpose wo 1 Xi ivor finding time to ask, "Who is dead!" Now with hearsrand nodding plume, At d long escort to the grave, Deatl i comes rattling down the street Lil e goes up the busy pave! Carel ess faces careless eyes-No one in the throng hath said, As tb e long procession 'passed them, "Who is dead!" Labor hath no time to lose Noi sy wheels still whirl away! Death 's a common thing which goes By the windows every day-Front the thronged and busy pavemen ts, No I amiliar face is fled Not oi le even in a thousand, Knows who's dead! TH IRTY YEARS AGO. IT VIRGINIA r. T0WN8KND. (concluded.) "What makes j ou so still and grum Nat? Ai 'e you offended at anybody?" "Oh, o ot at all, Molisay, only I didn 'pose I uld say anything very interest- in', arter the agreeable company you've had tonight." "I didn't mean to make just this answer, but someho' w the words shot right out of 4DT lips." 4'0h, no?;, Nat, you don't mean to say yon was offended because I chatted with Daniel Slade awhile" this evenin'?" ''It isn't my business Melissy, and I'm aware on't, tix; but when I see you so curried away by the fine airs of a city chap mat nasn t go,', any more brains than good-sized turkoy, I can't help kinder spcakin' on it." "I wasn't carried Bway with him, Nat, and as for his fine city airs, they don't weigh with me mors than a white feather; and I think you ought to know me better Nathaniel Palmer, than to cherish such unworthy thoughts of m." . , "She laid this last, in sueh a grave, ; grieved tone that I fairljr longed to turn . round and hug the little pass right to my ' .heart I stammered out tomethin' arter this fashion; "Well, Melissy, I hope you'll excuse me, if I've gone too far; but I beg you'll just remember it isn't fine clothes and smart manners that make true hearts, and those that love you best may not al'ays be the fust to tell you of it." "Well," says she, with a tost of her head, "it wouldn't make any difference if Daniel Slado would tell me so a hundred times over not the least bit in the world." "It did me a heap of good to hear her say these words, but somethin' made me feel wonderful bold just then, and I answered: "No I don't s'poso 'twould make any difference to you Melissy Treat, whoever should tell you they loved you." "I declare, Nat Palmer, I believe you think I'm nothin' in the world but a heartless, good-for-nothin' flirt." And here she broke right down and burst out a cry-in.""It was moren' I could stand. I felt, that minute, as if hanging was too good for me, when I heard Melissy Bobbin'. "No, I didn't mean that, at all; you didn't understand, Melissy." "You insinuated it any way," she said, Bobbin'. "Well, I meant, I meant" "What else did you mean then?" "I meant, I didn't s'pose it would make the least sort of difference to you if I said I loved you. There, thinks I, you've done it now, Nat Pa mcr, and ,1 felt hot and coold by turns." "Melissy sat still m a mouse, not saying a word; but I could feci that she was all of a tremble from head to foot. I can't tell whether it was this that made me bolder.or the suspense which seemed hard er to endure than the worst certainty; but I leaned down and whispered, because I couldn't say it loud, 'Melissy, do tell me, would it. make any difference?' That little hnnd of hers, hidden away in its great woolen glove, stole into mine- Yes, it would," she faltered out so ow, and the bells were jinglin' so loud, and yet I heard it; it reemed to me plainer thnn the loudest clap of thunder. Arter that, neither on us spoke afd until we reached the Widder Treats. There wasn't any need; we knew each others hearts. But I tell you that I was a prouder and a happ:cr man that night, when I litted the gal I loved better, than the whole world from the cutter, and thought how she would belongto mo all the days of her life, and how we should go through them in joy or in sorrow, with her fovin' heart beaten close to mine and all for me. 1 say I was a prouder and a happier man than if all them great glistenin' stars that shone overhead had been sprinkled in showers of burnin' diamonds at my feet." "Uncle Nat?" "Well my child?" "You were never jealous of Daniel Slade after thai?'' Never, but a moment a moment that cost me a sharp pang, and was followed by hours of joy that would have paid for a doisen." "Oh, do tell me about it." "It was iu the next June, and just arter twilight, one Wednesday evening', that I shut the little brown gate of Widder Treats cottage, and a couple of voices stole to me from the front room. I knew Me-lissy's at once I should have known it in Japan, but tho other one made me bait a minute and listen, and then I knew it was Daniel Slade's. He'd been at home off an on, ever since the winter before, and he always made a great stir among the gals when he showed his smart face and figure at meetin' or eingin' school. Then some on thoso gals was mighty jealous, cos he,d shown Melissy so much attention at the frolic at Pikes' Tavern, and I heard a good many ill-natured sort of remarks about how Melissy Treat would hare given all her old shoes to have catch ed Dan Slade, but he'd given her the slip, and so she was glad enough to take np with Nat Palmer arter all. I knew to, although she never mentioned it to me, that Melissy had heard all this gossip, but it didn't disturb me in the least, for Dan had tried a good many ways to wait on her and not succeed ed." . "But that still June night, when I was oomin' down the lane, with my soul as full of sweet thoughts of Melissy as the apple-bough was full of blossoms, I started all of a sudden to hear that quick, lenpin' laugh of hers comin' out of the front win der, all tangled in with anothers that knew at once to be Daniel Slade, and the sound brought back the old burnin' to my heart, and I slid round to the side winder with no intent to listen, only to kinder col led my thoughts and conclude whethe 'twas best to go in or turn right back. But as I said, it was a warm still evenin' and the tide winder was open, too, and the wood-pile right under it, so their roices stole out to me." "Now, Mist Treat," said young Blade in his most winnin' way, "I hopo you OVtOTJKra? VEHNON, won't refuse to go on this sailin'-party with me. We've got up about twenty couples, and we expect to have astrawberry-supper down to the cove." "Now, there never was a gal that waB fonder of a sail, or a ride, or a scrape of any kind than Melissy Treat, and I knew it was a great temptation to her, pellicular as she could triumph over all the girls by showin' them she could get Slade for the speakin.' My heart seemed to stand still, as I waited for her answer. It came at laBt low and steady." "I'm very much obliged to you, Mr. Slade, but it won't be possible for me to go on the sail next Thursday." "I wish I knew the reason, Mies Treat. I've heard, of late, from several of the gossips, that you were engaged to Nathaniel Palmer, but I didn't believe a word of it, or that he has anything to do with your refusal for he isn't half good or smart enough for you to waste your thoughts on."' "I jumped right up then, and rushed round the ood-pile; and God forgive me the blood of my youth biled in my vains, and if I could have reached Daniel Slado at that moment I should have felled him to the floor. But just as I got round the corner of the house Mtdissy's voice struck up to me, not any louder than usual, but it had a clear ringing sound in it, as though the wavering head sat premd and still on the snowy neck." "Mr. Slade, whatever is your opinion of Nathaniel Palmer, you mu3t only speak of him to me with respect as my betrothed husband." "The fellow sat dumbfounded a minute then he stammered out, "Excuse me, Miss Treat; I had no idea matters had gone so far, I didn't mean any offense, and wish you much happiness." And then he went on talkin' of other matters, and laughin' loud and careless, but any one could see he was not at ease; so in a few minutes he left. I heard Melissy follow him to the door, and bid him good evenin', in her quiet, ploasant way, only there was a little more dignity than usual about it; and I heard his footsteps go sharp and quick up the road, but I scarce ly noticed 'em, my heart was so full of new tenderness for Melissy.'' As soon as I could compose myself I went up to the front door, and Melissy came out and met me with her own frank, pleasant smile, only there was a red spot in each cheek and her lips seemed to quiv er jest the least bit when she bid me good evenin'." We went into the little front room, and then I took her hand, and look-in' straight in her face, "Melissy, I heard, just now, what Daniel Slade said to you about me, and what you answered hirfl." "0 Natl" "She was so completely taken nback that she wrenched her hand out of mine. "Yes, I heard every word on't out there by the wood-pile, and, Mulissa Treat, tho' I won't say I'm good enough for you, be cause 1 don t s pose . tnere s a man on earth that is, still I do most solemnly promise you here, God bein' my witness, that so far as mortal man can, by constant love and tender care for you, I will prove myself worthy to be your husband." "And what did she do, Uncle Nat?" "She? She jest put her little soft arms about my neck, and her smooth cheek ag'in mine, and whispered, "I know you will, Nat, I know you will!" And you've kept your promise, I know, Uncle Nat." "Ask Melissy, ask Melissy," answered the old man, with a quiet chuckle in his voice. "And how long after this were you married?" "The next October. We wasn't very forehanded to commence wi'h, for all Me lissy brought me was the little brown house and the few acres of orchard-land round it, and my father had half a dozen sons to divide his property amongst; but he gave me the east medder and the pas- tur' lot 'j'lnin , and we had brave hearts and wlllin' hands, and the Lord prospered us, in the long run, above our deserts, and it's twenty years now since the old home stead fell into my hands. We've seen bright days and cloudy ones together. It teemed like wrenchin' our hearts in two when Melissy and I laid our five bright girls one by one under the grave yard grass; and it was this, a great deal more than the years, which hat worn out the light from her eyes and the sparkle from her smile; but the Lord knew what was best; and it's comfortin' to reflect that we're got a good-sized family in heaven, if we harn't on earth, and for the rest-1 well, at I laid, you ean ask Melissy Palmer whether I've fulfilled the promise I made in the little brown cottage that stood on what used to be Orchard Lane thirty years ago." The words broke the spell for me'. Sitting there under the tulip-tree, with the wind flapping the great leaves overhead, I had listened to the old man's story, and the long-gono years had come before mr, OHIO, TIIXJXLS33i3LY, J"UXj"V' too, and uncovered their faces, and I talked with them. But with those words they vanishod slowly, slowly away and with a start 1 came back to the present. The day was going down with all the gorgeous rite and ceremonial of nn October sunset getting close to its life, which had been ono gift of fragrance, and glory and beau- y. Uncle Nat roused himself. "Well, child, they'll wonder what has taken us, nt homo, I guess. I'd no idee I'd been here bo long tnlkin; but arter I got a-goin' I forgot all about you, and it seemed jest as if I was talkin' to the years of my youth." So I gathered up my shawl, And he took the basket of chestnuts, and we went homeward. Aunt Melissy was stamping a pot cf fresh butter for tea, as we entered the kitchen, and I looked at her faded face with a new curiosity and reverence. 'Well, father, I declare," she exclaimed, as we entered, "I didn't know what had taken you. I began to be scared, for the cows havo been home hnlf an Lour and you've been gone ever since one o'clock, though it ain't above three quarters of a mile to chestnut-grove." "Guess what I've been about mother" as ho deposited a basket of nuts on tho able. "I'm suro I can't tell, father. You look as if you'd both enjoyed yourselves mightily.'' "I've been tellin' her about our cour- tih' days, and the bright frosty night, thirty years ago, that I proposed to you." 'Oh, father, how could you be so fool- sh?" A faint blush kindled through the faded features, but the lips dropped into an arch smile, which partially revealed to me what the smile of Aunt Melissa's youth must have been. "Oh, father, how could you be so foolish?" "And I've told her what I heard you say to Daniel Slado oue night, as I sat behind the wood-pile, and of the promise I made you, a few minutes later, in the little front room; and now Melissa, you must tell her too, whether through all these thir ty years, I've kept my promise." The tender light that glowed up into that worn faco made it beautiful with more than tho beauty, it seemed to me, of its lost youth. Aunt Melissa hud her hand on her husband'a'.shoulder, and the answer throbbed deep and joyful from her lips as though her heart breathed through each word. ''You've fulfilled your prom ise Nat, you've fulfilled your promise." It is just sixteen years since Professor Morse put up the first Electric Telegraph in America. Tho first pieco of news sent over it was the nomination of James E. Polk for President, made at Baltimore, and announced in Washington "two hours in advance of the mail." No ono at that day, probably not even tho Professor himself, dreamed how closely the electric wire would bo ioterwovoa with eur daily life. Now, railroad trains are run by electricity. Thieves are caught by electricity. Watches are set and clocks strike by electric ity. Lost children are found by electricity, Fire bells are rung by electricity. Armies march and fleets sail at its bidding. Treaties are negotiated at its word. Two friends in remote towns by its holp tit down and have a friendly game of chess. Two emperors, a thousand miles apart, by its help carry on the siege of a distant city. By night it flios all over the world, galhe r ing news to servo up at breakfast. By day it flies all ovei the world here congratulating a bride, there ordering a funoral, here warning of a disastor, there summoning help to a wreck, here buying pork by tho hundred bar rels, thore telling grain by the thousand bush. els, arranging for feasts and fights, for ser mous and stock-bargains, for law-making and I or law-breaking. Truly the romance of the Arabian nights is tame beside the reality the Electrio Wire. Albany Journal. Two young ladies of Philadelphia were ately spending the summer in north-east em New York. During their visit they took several long rides with the daughters of the hosts about the country. On one of these occasions as they had been trav eling some dittance, and the day was warm, and as a trough of running water stood invitingly by the road side they concluded to give thoir pony a drink. One of the city ladies agreed to get out and arrange matters for this purpose; the othert remaining in the carriage, and deep ly engaged in conversation, for tome time paid Ho attention to the proceedings of their companion. When at last surprised at the long delay, they turned to ascertain the cause, they discovered her endeavoring to Unbuckle the crupper. In amazement they inquired, "What in the world are you doing that for?" To which the naive ly rephedj "Why, I m unbuckling thi strap to let the horse's head down so he can drink 1" One of tht items of the Metropolitan' Ho tel bill of $91,000 for entertaining the Japan eta Embassadors, wat for ten thousand bottles of champagne consumed It the Japan tse ball, or two bottles for each person in atUhd inee. Fur tho Ml. Vernon ItapuMlaan. ON LIFE INSURANCE!. LETTER KO. I. Juno 23, 1CC0. Dear Sir: In tho letter which I had the pleasure to receive from you a few days since, you say, Hint your attention as been frequently called to the subject of Life Insurants by noticing in the public prints accounts of Its timely and valuable d to bereaved widows and orphans, and that being unacquainted with the principles on which it is based, you would bo glad of some information in regard to it. It will afford me very great pleasure tocommuni-cato to you such information as I possesses, d I propose to do so through the col umns of the Mt. Vernon Republican, be cause I presume there are many other persons in the community similarly situated with yourself, to whom the remarks ond statements which I design to mako from ime to time on this important eubject, will as acceptable as to yourself. Indeed there aro few subjects of general interest about which the public are less informed than with regard to assurance on Many from not understanding it, entertain a very unreasonable and unfounded prejudice ngainst it, and many more from the same cause fail to enjoy its bene- Tho principles niid object' of Fire and Murino insurance are familiar to most persons, but not so is it with the piinciples and uses of life insurance. It is the tendency ot Christianity to fos ter atid promote the most liberal nnd unselfish beneficence. Accordingly we Cud that in christian countries and in those alone, not only is public provision made for the relief of the sick, the unfortunate, the poor, the aged nnd infirm, but Voluntary associates are constantly spiinging up, hich have for their object in ono form or another to ameliorate the sorrows of maa-kind, to counteract the evils arising from unforeseen or unavoidable calamity and misfortune, and directly or indirectly to promote the intellectual, moral, social and religious advancement of our racei We do not now spak of the Church that di vine appointed institution which for certain great ends and purposes stands at the head f all human associations and imparts a quickening power and genial influence to all others. Nor would wo speak of those associations which are purely literary or scientific. We lefer particularly to such institutions as Mechanic's Associations, tho Masonic, Odd Fellows, and Temperance locicties, and those which are formed for various charitable objects, Savings Banks, Fire, Marine and Life Insurance companies. Iu various ways do these different orders and beneficent institutions dispense their blessings. They all more or less en. courage and foster habits of industry, economy, benevolence and other kindred virtues, while they'interposo their friendly aid in the most critical periods of human life helping the unfortunate, administer ing succor and relief to the sick, affording material aid to the poor and destitute, dry- g the tears of mourn 'rs, and filling the widow and orphan's heart with joy and gladnsss. It is impossible, perhaps, to es timate too highly the value of these institutions in a moral, economical, or social point of view. By associated action they contribute vastly to unite mankind in the bonds of universal brotherhood, to keep alive nnd in exercise the kind, humane, and friendly feelings and sympathies of our nature, to ameliorate the distresses and elevate the moral nnd social condition of inlividuaU and of the com'.duaiiy large. Among the benevolent and philanthro pic institutions and enterprises of the age no one takes a higher rank than Life In surance, as well in regard to the principle on which it is based, the objects it aims to accomplish and the extent of its beneficial effects. While it proffers its aid to various classes in the comunity, it) special mission is to administer substantial and timely as sistaece to dependent widows and helpless orphans, who have been bereaved by tli visitation of Divine Providence, of their natural protector. The Life Insurance Companies in this country alone, although the oldest of them on the mutual plan has not been In existence over 16 or 17 years, now distribute annually not less than two millions of Dollars, chiefly among widows nnd children. And these institutions are constantly expending and widening the cir cle of their beneficent influence and scat-ter'ng their material blessings over the whole land. To show still further the extent of their operations and the favcr with which they are regarded both in this country and abroad.it may be remaikcd that in England the total amount for which Life assurance companies are now responsible is estimated at no less than $750,000,000, on which 825,000,000 are paid yearly as premiums; while in this country, the amount insured, which it distributed among about 50 companies, Is estimated at lSO.UOO.000, and every year increasing. In regard to the eomparitiro benefits of CO, 1GOO wo. our. I III WW""'l'""i'Ml'''M'''W'"'""'"" Life Insurance, tho American sago Benia min Franklin thus remarked more than half a century ago; "Many persons resort to beneficial associations to make provision for their families; nnd there are many cases, in which tho funds of a beneficial so ciety have been most useful to a portion of its members. My object is not to un dervalue beneficial societies, but to call the atte itinn of tho considerate nnd provident to the fict, that a policy of life insurance is the chennest and safest mode of making a certain provision for one's family If any one will look at tables of life insurance, ho will see that, for a very Bmall . . v i ttr sum paid every year lor a poncy 01 ira iu- surance, a father secures to his fomily a very considerable nmount. For instance, for about 94 per year, a father of 45 years of age secures 81U0, pnyablo to his family immediately afti-rhis dearh. For about $16 per )tnr, a man of 40 years of age secures lor Ins iaraiiy swu anu in use proportion, according to the ages of the parties. Now wo know of no benoficial society that can offer any ruch induce ment. B.sidcs,the time occupied and the hazard incurred in managing the affairs of a beneficial sooiety.amount often to a very considerable sum. It is true, a member if sick, may t-xpeet Borne small pecuniary aiJ; but when he dies, his family, after his funcnil, have little or no claim on the socie'y. Now a policy or life insurance " 1 I comes in nt this period, nnd gives the fam ily mnRf Imnnrtiinf nwl. bf-pniise It in most 1 . , timely; it being just as they are deprived r.i.. : :., ,i...i t:. :mfi.f Ul u.,u uT our peu.iie uuuunuuuu uuu prU..u . generally life insurance. Many a widow and orphan have had great reason to be grateful that the advantage of lifo insur- nnco was understood and embraced by the husband nntt father." Such were the views of a wise and thoughtful man on this impr rtant subject expressed at a time when tho mutual principle was not intro- ,1,.n,l ;n,n T.ifi, Tn.rn.. onrf liP . , . . . v i . . consmerao.y greater .nan is at preseni. me system 01 mo msurance as u now es- ists ana is carnea on m tnts conntry, can- not fail when' fully understood to be re- garded by every right thinking and right- foclinff individual, its one eminently condu- cive to the publio good, and as Worthy of his cntiro approval, and his warmest sym- pathy and support, for it aims directly at the moral.physical and social amelioration 01 me masses, oy iurn.sn.ng power.u, ana 1 .1 1 r ... 1 r t . ji wormy motives ior tue cuivivauon 01 so- briety, industry, prudence, economy and perseverance virtues which eonslitute an essential clement in the character of a good citizen. J. M. Little Acts Well Performed. As daylight can be seen through vory small holes, so little things will illustrate a personal character. Indeed, character con sisis in lime nci won uuu iiuuurauiv uciiuiui- 1T..1 1 It .-J 1 1.1 .. r . 1: daily life being the quarry from which we build it up. and rough-hew the habits that form it. One of the most remarkable tests of character is the manner in which we conduct oursleves towards others. A graceful behav- ior towards superiors, inferiors, and equals is a constant source of pleasure. It pleases Oth- ers, because it indicates respect for tnolr per- sonality: but it givos ten-ioia moro pioasure to ourselvos. Every man may to a large ex- tent bo a sou-educator in good Denavior as in everything else, ilo can be Kind ana civil ho will, though ho have not a penny in nil purse. Gentleness in society is like the silent influcnco of light, which gives color to all na- ture; it is more powerlui. It pusnes its way silently and persistently, like the tiniest daf- fodil in spring, whicn raises tho cloa ana thrsts it asido by simple persistency 01 grow- n- Morals and manners, wnicn pive co.or 10 life, aro of greater importance than laws which aro but one of their manifestations. The law torches us here and there, but man ncrs aro about us, providing socioty like the air we breathe. Good manneis, as we call them, ore neither more nor less than good behavior, consisting of courtesy and kii-dnessi for bcnovolenco is the preponderating element in all of mutual beneficial and pleasant inte course among humati beings. "Civility," said Lady Montague, "cost nothing, and bays evervthinc." "Win hearts." said Burloigh to Queen Elizabeth, "and you have all men's J . Ul-nuU pu,,. - - 4 ........ II Tf m,il.1 nlw inl .f Vi.wllr fro. from affection and ar- nnuuiv ww ...-.j ( ...,,li rnnA hurnnf .nl happiness would be incalculable. The un- uv o--- - br.d politeness which spring, from right- hcartedness is of no exclusive rtnk or station. n.,i., Tt. . M, iken tr. task , KdinbuM blood with whom ho wa8 j a - - - - B.alLin Tnr nwf(rniinfl an hnnnfit firmer in I " o 0 0 the open street. "Why, you fantastic gom- ll ..M.imP Ttiirn. "it ... not thn irrnat ccat, the scone bonnet and the Sanler't boot nose that I speak to, but the man that was in them; and the man, sir, for true worth, would weigh you and me and ten more such ' ' " any day." There may be homllnest in tx terntlt which may teem rulgar to" tboat who can not discern tbe heart beneath, bu to the right-minded character will always have iu clear insignia. JohLaitb Sdpkbiobto thi Almiohtt. Joe Lane In his manuscript begins hit owe name with capital lottert tnd God Almighty't withouti From the Cleveland Plain Ibnler.J Stop That Knocking; ; j A friend, a timid friend, writes us that we ought to let up on old Buck, inasmuch ta we elected him, and he It now the President of the United Statei We do not to understand our duty aj a citizen, the publisher of an (independent journal, and a Domocrat. Wti are acting on our own Judgment as w always do; and the best for tho tferaocratic party and the country, as we humbly think. We have no precedont to guide us, for this it the first time in tho history of our party that 4 Democratic President hat attempted ta dictate to the pirty who should, or should1 not be his successor For the first time tho pari ty has been sold by t President of their own" party; lias been told by a President cf their" own making. All the powers of his high poi sition are Unscrupulously used to put down i Presidential candidate notoriously the people' choice. We fight him as t traitor to his party and by his Federal corruptions 4 curse til his country and the people, filial! ho 1 shielded by the panoply of oflicc? Establish" . such a precedent once, and tho liberties of the people are gone. "Wlioiofrewlum gimin Wniwtlia CMtur't foil, Then public rlrtdos Way iu ahadot rutroat." For what was the Press established, ai,i for what is it now mipportcd? To show up" just such corrupt old "Funes" as James Bui chanan. But for him the Democratic" party . would now bo unitod, and every State in the" Union, save half a dozen, would now be in the bands of the DjmKracy. We fi,rrit hint uccauB9 we Know mm 10 oe poimcaiiy ana 11 L II E.J 11- .... 1 1 -j morally corrupt, an old Fedorrlist itl dleguisf and to show future Presidents the fate that awaits all ingrates tr 0 nd scoundrels like hihV ' upon bun as tho worst man id Amaricll ,03t t0 , (ceIings of ahtm a cal. . .. . . M ;,h cr show our eoritempt fo, ccpt through the "freedom of speech;"' It was lucky our vonorablo forefathers who framed this Government were on tht look out (of Just such bad men as he. They had Arnoldt and Cow boys to contond with even in the , "evolution, and they so nxxd the Constitution as to have all delegated powers to legislators, Senators and Presidents, revert back to thd people in every one, two, four, and sit years; They knew there would be Burrs, Cutlers Buchinsn(li who wmM chcat tho pe0pl8 inlo Eiving them pMitioll ani woulJ then turn tyranlSi just as bad men had done before. But they know tht people could endure wrong and would endure it hi a timoj if not palmed on them perpetually of privileged form of Government and parties lawi,i ttBd nM,nS ,h9 ,r,oir8 w tueir own hands for rectification would rote bad mart " , T l" " " organgi to . , Tt was a Revolutionarr forefather who gwg u M , Bentiment that, "The freedom of the Tress was the Palladium of Liberty." Our friend is hereby informed that our duty is to write, and hit to read and vote. When Mr. Buchanan acts the President, we will re spect him. When he plays tho demegogue we will give him the best turn in our wheel house as a tyrant and a trickster, . . vungrcob xiiecia a rnuunai. auu Vice president. It may be useful just about this time to reproduce the statement which the approach of a Prcsidestal election makes opportune ev-i cry four years. The House of Iteprcsentativ. s has nothing Uhaleror to do with the election of a Vice President, nor the Senate with the eledlidn Lf a rrcuiJtnt. Tho powers of each body are distinct aud entirely indeoendent of each oth er. f Prosident is chOSOn by tho Elector?. the IIouao o( Representatives m?j choose thi pieaident. their choice boins restricted to tna highest numbers, not exceeding three oh th6 jigt of thos9 T0ted for for President. l no Vice Frcsidont b3 chosen by the Eh c t the guDate haU choi,gt, a ViM pf fi(Uht from tho two highest numlen on tho list of ft Toud fof fur Vico rresi(lcnt tf the House fails to eleet a President bo- Ibre tho 4th of March next following, then tht Vice President, whether elected by the Elec tors or by the Senate, (ball act ts President The rulo or manner of voting under which the Senate chooses a Vice Frrtideht is exact ly the reverse of that of the House in chnotinaj a President eth being the reverse of tht general prirciple or basis o; on which the respective bod La aro organized. The llotier, representing the people, and ordinarily voting ptr capita, rote for President by tht States, Ik. nHa.nl.llHH r.m .Vl Ri.ta . - , " '""" " J " "' " """ 1 . i nrL o necwrjr i am -osn.nr, nprc- ""S 108 "'y. ., .1. . i ""u" "' -'B rrio jr K ' . tiea to a r ote, anu me mijorny oi an we m tlort being nectwary to a choice. A- f TV. civ: 4 "w-"l" - "' - ... , I T (. - - Tl. a 1 ... 'A l onucai uemaiDS 01 nrn wnvwrn nblrory badi ; 1 - " - 1 , Her Lreth ye Bcmattei of a Lylle Oiaate, who was kilt in yt frreprttybit conflict Jbr ye Presidency, at Charlet Town, May tba 1800. Ambitious y DO the, takt warning b. hit fait, and ntrer ktryra to fill yt place M which you ar too until." 1 ... 1 m- mi iii tht Jtpttesa, pravioua ta faring New Torkt placed $20,000 la tht lands aflff. Belmont to bt distributed at a gift ta tht po lice of Washington, BalliAore, Philadelphia and Ntw Yerk 1 . ,.., ) j 1 j.-.. 1 ;'V ... r; -I