Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1855-06-13
"GREAT NEWS. GLORIOUS NEWs.''

Was the shout of the news yender in the old
war time; and at the sound of his tin trumpet,
the lady looked anxiously from her window,
while the maid stood with ready coin at the
door the workman hurried down from ms
garret, and the serving wench from the area
depths thrust forth her plump red arm TO grasp
the futtering prize-ssGreat news. glorious
news!' But the tin trumpet is heard no long
er, nor does the hoarse voice of the news VEN
der resouud in our public streets yet the War
and amyriad Of readers eagerly deyour its con-
tents of joy and sorrow they are set forth
in the columns of the Times.
Here it lies in the boudoir of a countess I:
the paper has been carefully aired, unfolded
and refolded, lest the stain Of vulgar fingers
should have profaned its whiteness to desc
crate my lady's touch. Here lies, bathed in
the delicious fragrance of freshly gathered
flowers, among gaudy volumes of romance,
and costly works of art, this daily record of
the worlds life-this chronicler of its evil
deeds and wasted hours. Hushi the owner
of the room has entered there is pride in her
step and glance, as ssshe treads the crimson
carpet,'' and breathes the perfumed air -
there is pride in each graceful movement, as
| she seats herself upon the luxurious ottoman;
but there is fearful anxiety in that trembling
| hand as she draws the paper quickly towards
! her. One glance of that flashing eye upon
! the printed page, and the color has fled her
{
| BILE, terrible in its quietude, esmy lady" lies
| lifeless amid the cushions.
In small room where thick steam lies
| heavy upon the windows, and the damp vapor
clings to the rotting walls from which the
plaster is dropping piecemeal to the ground,
that paper has already made its way-not care
fully folded, o; brought by powdered acquey,
with reverential and cat-like tread, but fra
| grant with tap-room smells. and stained with
! tap-room beer; it was thrust in by kindly
| pot-boy, and, with seHere, missus,' deposit
| ed upon the table. Removing from the froth-
| ing tub her snow faxed arms, the washerwo'
| man-for such is her condltion-wlpeS hel
| hands hurriedly upon her apron and grasps the
paper. Eagerly her eyes follows that water
| shriveled finger as, line after line, she spells
| down the column of names, till suddenly she
stops at ONE: again she spells lt-thls um'
aloud-then, dashing the paper down, she
| darts madly across the room to the humble
bed whers rests her sleeping child, and falling
upon her knees, pours out her heart in lamen
| tation and prayer.
Here are two women whom the ssgreat news
has made equal in grief if in naught else.-
The lady and the poor serf link hands at last
their tears flow from like cause-for th
pride of the one, and the hope of the other
both lay stretched, helpless, shot-shattere'
upon that CHASTITY battlefield.
EsGloriouS news - and Fame puts the bra
zen trumpet TO her lips, sending the echo G
her triumph through every town and hamlet
till each patriotic heart is lighted by the news
and all join in the song ofjOy. This we reaC
| in the papers, but another sound strikes upol
the ear of the philosopher sound of clam
| entation, and weeping, and great mourning;
| the wailing of that sea of sorrow which come
surging over the land-the cry of the widowet
| and the fatherless-of ssRachel weeping TO
her children,'' and refusing to be comforted
| ssbecause they are not. .'-Diogenes.