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r T MiE NORTH AND SOUTll, ^ i l r i i i l r l i r i t » i i . t r i i r i s iL VOLUME 11. NEW BRITAIN, CONNECTICUT, T H E QVnb New I3rilain Jonrnal, B l i i n v n V R R I T T , E d i l a r, l i . m . O V B R N S E Y , P r o p r i o t * . WILL BB IMDED BTKB7 SATVBDAT, Vrom ih* Printing Offloe of tli* Tiopriator, in tli« Bu*m«nt pf the Baptlft Chntoh, Niw BuiAix, Coax. TBmMf:—$1.60 per annum, in Advanoe. la bandies of five or more to one nddress, 91*25. llemben of Noraal School, iab<orlbing In atlranee for tha Term, farniahad ui the annnal rata. Timwt or AvraaTitiiia : — For • Bqnara, one inwrtion, 76 aenta, •Mh MliUtional Inaertlon, 25 c u . ' For h a l f * Square, on* Inaertion, 50 e a n u ; each additional Inaeriion. 16 eta. One Square for a year, flO. Half Square. t 6 . BuainaM CanU, ooatoinlng half square, per year, tS.OO. Sabhat^ (Siemng Jiresibe. A N Q E L V I S I T A N T S . BT EDWARD CHALUEB8. Though ange1» long have left this earth. Their shadows still remain ; Where all that's good and pure have birth, They seem to live again. In homes and hearts, they play their farts. Where love and concora dwell; While o'er lifVi dreams they oast their beams; And wave a magio spell. Yes; earth has angels of her own. And not a few, I ween; Though angel's visits man is told. Are few, and far betweca. In every land, where'er we stray, 'Mongst those we chance to greet. When least we think, perhaps we may With some bright angel meet. For while full well the eyes can tell When beauty passes by, ^ - Yet angels may pursue their way Unheeded by the eye. Oh, yes, a veil may oft conceal An angel bright and fair. Whose virtues would adorn a crown, And shed a lustre there. Honor to those whose words or deeds Thus help us in our daily needs, And by their overflow Raise us from what is low 1 ^Longfellow. BBMCttOir. Heligion is an affair so spiritual in its nature, so tremendously important in its consequences, and so frequently misunderstood; and on the other band, we ourselves are so liable to be mis-led in our judgments by the bewildering influence of internal depravity, and external temptation, that it betrays the most criminal indifference, or the most absurd self-confidence, to enter on this subject, without constant earnest supplication for direction to the Father and fountain of light. The religious world is like an immense forest, through which lies the right road to truth and happinefls ; bat besides this, there are innumerable paths running in all directions; every way has its travelers, each traveler thinks he is right, and attempts to prove it, by referring to the map which he carries in his hand. In such circum-stances, who that values his soul, or her eternal situation, would seek for guidance to him who has promised to disclose to us by his spirit the path ot life ? When young people trust to the efforts of their own unaided reason, and neglect to ask for the guiding influence of the eternal God, it is matter of little surprise that they are found walking in the paths of error. There is a degree of pride and independence in this, which God of-ten punishes, by leaving them to the seductions of sophistry and falsehood. In addition, then, to the greatest seriousness of mind, and the most intense desire after the truth, and the most un-prejudiced approach to the oracle of scripture, pray constantly to God to reveal to you the na-ture of true piety, and to dispose you to embrace it. ' If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God who givtith to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.' ' If ye, being evil, know bow to give good gifts unto them which are your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give his Holy Spirit to them that ask him.' * I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way thou shalt go; I will guide thee with mine eye.' These, surely, with a thousand other passages of similar import, are sufficient to enjoin and en-courage the temper I have recommended. I have no hope for those who neglect habitual prayer for divine illumination. I expect to see them left to embrace error for truth, or to content themselves with the mere forms uf godliness, instead of its power.—Reo. J. A. James. GOD COUNTS.—A brother and sister were play-ing ill the dining-room, when their luuther bet u biibket ot cukuij on the toa-tuble uiid went out. ' iiuw nice they look,' uud the boy, reaching to take one. His sister euriic»tiy objected, and oven drew back his hand, repeating that it was ugainst their mother's direction. ' Slie did nut count them,' said lie. ' I3iit perhaps God did,' answered the sister. So he wiilidrew from tlie tuiuptutiou, and sit-ting down, st'ciiied to iiitiditatc. • You are right,' rcplie<l he, loukiii;^ at hor with u cheerful, yet se-rious air, ' God di)es count. For the bible says, that • the hairs of our huud are all numbered.''— S. S. Adv'Kate. GUKAT MKN.—(jreat men staiiJ like solitary towers ill the city of (iod; und secret passages, ruiiiiing beiieutli vxteniul nature, give their thoughts iiittrcour-e with higher imeltigeiices, whii'h stri'iigthcii and consoles them, and ot which th»' Itiborcis on the hurfucedo iiot dream.—Lung' f d ow. i s c e l l a n t o n s . A NEW OLAlXAnT. The first newspaper that was ever printed in North America made its appearanoe in Botton, on the 25th of September, answering to the pre»> ent^6th of Ootober, 1090; so sayi the Boston Olive Branch. Its publication caused a prodi> gious excitement in this village, (for we were bat a village then, or oollection of hamlets rather, of five or six thousand inhabitants,) almost as vivid bs that which followed, the other day, from the announcement that the Atlantic Telegraph had been completed. The Legislature took matter up, denounced the sheet as contrary to law in its publication, and asserted the grand principle of censorship as determined as it could have been done in London then, or it is done in .Paris now. Louis Napoleon himself could not have made a greater row abont a newspaper than was made by our worthy progenitors. It was a quarto concern with only three of its pages in print, the editor, if such a beast of burthen it had, having run ashore, when his work was only three-fourths ac-complished. Only one number of this journal is known to be in existance, and that is No. 1, and is in the English State Paper Office. It is sup-rased, and very reasonably, that it died in being )orn. It was published by Benjamin Harris.— He was a patriot, and was set in the pillory in Charles Ild's time, then a not uncommon mode of rewarding patriots for the part they took in promoting the general geod. So that our first newspaper publisher was & man of some note, having attracted royal attention, and occupying at the time, a high position in the world. A GOOD ONE.—An anecdote in Harper'S^jays the Vicksburg Whig, reminds us of a j^ory we once heard of a revolutionary soldier, who was running for Congress. It appears that our hero was opposed by a younger man, who had never ' been in the wars,' and it was the wont of ' rev-olutionary ' to tell the people of the hardships he endured. <Says he,' fellow citizcns, I have fought and bled for my country — I helped whip the Britiih and Indians. I have slept on the field of battle with no covering but the canopy of heaven. I have walked over frozen ground till every foot-step was marked with b l o ^ . ' Just about this ItUle' t/fic' b^ffif? Boverel]|[08'wli0''1tod beoone vety much affected by this tale of woe, walks up in front of the speaker, wiping the tears from his eyes with the extremity of his coat tail, andinter-rupting him says : ' Did you fight the British and the Injins ?' ' Yes,' respond^ old ' revolu-tionary.' Did you say you had slept on the ground, while serving your country, without any kiver ?' ' Yes, sir, I did.' • Did you say you had followed the enemy of our country over fro-zen ground, till every footstep was markod with blood V ' Yes,' exultantly replied the speaker.— ' Well, then,' says the tearful ' sovereign' as he gave a sigh of painful emotion, ' I think you've done enough for your country, and I'll vote for the other man.' Lorenzo Dow on one occasion while preaching denounced a rich man recently deceased. The result was an arrest, trial for slander, and impris-onment in jail. After Lorenzo got out, he an-nounced that he should preach a sermon about another rich man. A crowded house greeted his appearance. With great solemnity he opened the bible and * read'—' And there was another rich man who died and went to ;' then stopped short, and seemed to be suddenly impressed. He continued, ' Brethren, I shall not mention the place which this man went to, for fear he has rel-atives in the congregation, who will sue me for defamation of character.' The effect was irresis-tible. - I f - ^ SATURDAY, DECEMBER 4, 18J8. A KICK THAT KILLED Boni.—While a horso was standing on Old-st., near Sycamore, yesterday evening, a dog passed under him, and received a kick, which completely smashed his skull, killing him instantly. The owner of the horse soon after left the city, but had not proceeded far before the horse fell and expired. Upon examination hit left hind foot with which he had kicked the dog, was found to contain a piece of bone several inch-es in length, apparently part of the dog's jaw bone} buried in the very quick or tenderest part of the hoof, lie had died of tetanus.—Petersburg Ex. A VALUABLK PUINTER.—A western paper eon-tains the following modest advertisement: ' Wants a situation, a practical printer, who is competent to take charge of any department iu a printing und publinhlng house. Would accept a profesMurship in any of the academios. Has no objection to teach ornamental painting and pen-manship, geometry, trigonometry and many other scicnces. Is particularly adapted to act as pastor to u small evangelical church, or as a local preach-er. Ho would havo no objection to form a small but select class of interesting young ladiea, to in-struct in the higher branches. To a dentist or chiropoedist he would be invaluable, as he can do almost anything. Would board with the family if decidfdiy piuuH. For further particulars inquire of Colonel Buf-falo, ut Brown's Saloon. An editor of a down-east paper getting tired of paying his printers, resolvod to diminish his help, und put his own shoulder to the wheel.— Here is a specimen of his first effurt at setting type: ' VVa l4injj < e nhAjl d O moSt oj ovj own sotj Vnn tipK hejcaftej ,jrinlorS lusy tALk aqou| iT.< ukiug diffi(/U|t )o t^M ) tifpo' but ^on,) eXpori-enCe S uuq J1 tVjCulj V.' F L I R T j ^ T I O N . A nOKT WITH i MOKAIk worth Ihriog in if imed ' Mm Iford, • The world would hardly it were not for flirtation,' e leas Isabel Lee, as she lai aunt's room. • I hope von are not serii 'There ii nothing like merry Isabel * Btit j o a ' grj,' • Oh, I ' am not angr^,' with a melanoholv smile. ' But you are displeased.^ • Tour words awakened ra^Ueotion which oanse me to fbel sad, Isabel; tbat'i all. Sit down here by my side, and you shall hoar a story of my flirtations, which may chan^ your mind.' Isabel sat down, looking^onghtfully, and her aunt continued : y ] • When I was young, lil^ you, dear child, I was quite as gay and thouAUeas as yourself. I was called a coquette, and I, shame to oonfees it, gloried in the name, until ^ e occurrence of the painful event I am about to irelate.' ' H a i f a dozen times a V e a r l nsed to visit C , and spend a week or two in the pleas-ant society of the place. Ihen 1 frequently met a pale, handsome, sensitive young man, named Gilbome, who paid me very flattering attentions, making me the theme Of sevel«I poetical effusions, and with whose partiality I was very well pleased.' ' I was warned by man^ well meaning friendfl against encouraging the i ^ r e s a of so impulsive a person as Gilborno, who, they said, was more serious than I, and who m i ^ t end by falling more deeply in love than I expiBoted or desired. I laughed at the idea, and fiodi^ the attentions of the young poet still agreeable i continued to re-ceive them until it was too Hate.' • Too late ! How so, aunt 7' ' Why, to ray astonishmeDt he one day made a passionate declaration of his love and offered me his.hand.' ' And did you love him T ' No, child, I was merely pleased with him.— But even then I did not aappose his love was more than the result of a sadden impulse, which would soon pass away with my visit to 0 So I respectfhily declined his offer, laughed at the idea of marrying at t h a l ' a ^ and begged him to iiwihi It I sahjMliifcMiiiMiaMlMl^ ipiil day I left C- and returned home.' 'Letters and poetry followed me, breathing the most passionate doTOtion, and burning with the eloquence of love. They bore no name, but I knew they were from - Henry Gilbome. I was beginning to be very much annoyed. I took counsel w m my friends, and resolv^ to send all future epistles to him back, i^nopeiied. X returned two letters in this manner, and received no more; but three or four weeks after I received a news-paper, in which there was a sonnet addressed to me, under a fictitious namo, and signed with his initials. He had discovered a new mode of reach-ing me with his passionate effusions; and from that time a sonnet or song, signed H G came to me from the C Gazette neariy every week.' ' At this time Mr. Bedford was paying me ad-dresses. He was one ot nature's noblemen — frunk, generous, firm in what he considered right, and a gentleman in his manner. Having learned a leesOn from the unhappy termination of my last flirtation, I received Mr. Bedford's attentions in a different manner from what I had been ac-customed to do, and in a short time we were mar-ried.' ' The ceremo^ took place In ehnrch. I loved Mr. Bedford. Gilbome was at the moment quite forgotten, and I was perfectly happy. I had not a thought to disturbe the peace of mv mind — the calm repose of my heart, which I had so wil' lioglyi gladly given away — until as we were passing from the church, my eyes fell upon a wild h a g ^ r d figure, standing near the door.' ^ t was Gilbome. His face was dreadfully pale, his lips ashy, his eyes gleaming with an un-natural brightness, and he trembled in every limb. I started, uttered a suppressed cry, and shudder-ing, clung to my hasoand's arm. A pang went through my heart — a pang of remorse and dread and which I ahall never forget.' ' Wha^ k M m ^ T I oould not reply, • V K l M f r my isye ttl^^mike hag-rard object in the doorway, and knew why I shud-dered, for I had told him something of my antbr-tunate flirtation.' • I s that Gilmorc T' ho asked. • Yes,' I munnured. ' By this time all eyes wore fixed upon the un-happy man. It was not his pale face that at^ traoted my attention; his dress was d i s a r r a n ^ ; bis long dark hair fell in disordered locks a ^ u t bis cheeks, and his garments were covered with the dust ot travel. But while all eyes fixed on him, his eyes were fixed on mo alone ; and in my alarm and confusion, I felt the blood forsake my cheeks, then burn them like fire.' •Gilbome fell back when we approached the door, and bowed soleuioly with bis hand upon hia heart as we passed out. I was glad to lose sight of him, and ardently tiopod that his passion would be cured.' • But his imago, as he stood there in the door-way, haunted my braii>, and it woa many hours before 1 could compose myself.' ' I was beginning, however, to feel at ease again in the mid.st of my wedding guests, when a do-mestic came to ute to say that a person wished to see me in the hall. Thinking it some invited friend, who hud arrived at a Istc hour, I h a s t^ •d to the door aloue. Imagine ruy tiousteruatioo when I saw the wild figure of C^ilborue standing before me.' • How do you do 7* he asked, uddreitkiug mo by my maidra name. * Woo'l yoa ihak^ handt with meV * I gave him. m j hand.' * Toti tNtaable,' aaid he, lUing hia wild o^ MIMflMe. <To<iaMnotafraidof m«,Ihop«r r npijM iQ M agitated toio6« Ibr i m w f r i g h g ^ DM, • why thbttld I ^ ^ ^ tea, r o t ' a p a r t^ dered attire. * So you will excuse me. Ha, ha! wouldn't I out a pretty figure 7' ' But I cannot talk to yon here,' said L ' Oh, I will not detain yon a minute. I have — ha, ha ! I have a question to ask voa which ii really so absord, when I think of, t h a t I cannot help laughing. . ' T h e y told me,'he said, in a pleasent and confidential tone, ' told me that you wore married !' he burst into a wild laugh. ' I know better,' he continued, • but they say it is so, and to satisfy them, I determined to come and ask you, for I suppose you ought to know if anybody. You are married — ha ! ha ! h a ! I had a queer dream. I thought I was standing in the church door, and saw you coming out with your husband, and you would not speak to me. Was it not queer 7 and I knew all t^e time you would never marry anybody but me. And we are not married yet, are we 7 But who is here to-night 7 I nev4r saw you dressed so before ! And,' he added, striking his forehead, ' X dreamed you were dressed so at your wedding.' Thus the wrctched man wont on, sometimes laoghin^ and sometimes shedding tears. I knew he was insane; I tried to stop him, but I was too frightened to speak. In my adtation I took hold of the bell wire and rung. A domestic came, and I sent her for Mr. Bedford. • Bedford! who is he 7' cried Gilbome, grasp-ing my arm. ' They told me that was the name of your husband! Say ~ you are — you are 7iot married are you 7' ' Yes, Mr. Gilbome,' I replied, trembling so I could hardly speak. ' X am married, and here is my husband.' * To my great relief X saw Mr. Bedford advance into the hall. Gilbome started back, and fixed his eyes upon my husband with a wild and fierce expression which caused me to fear for him.' ' But Edward was undaunted. Keturning hb gaze with a firm, steady, commanding .look he ad-vanced toward him and demanded wnat he want-ed.' • The dangerous spirit of the insane man was completely subdued. He hung his head and burst into tears. < Nothing,' he murmured. ' I want nothing now. I have been dreaming; I will not trouble you again. May you bo happy.' ' He turned and staggered out of the door and I hoard his unsteady footsteps die away in the distance.' ' Poor wretch,' muttered Edward, as he kindly took my hand, ' he is to be pitied ! But you are agitated! I hope,' he a d d ^ , in an anxious tone, ' you have nothing to blame yourself for in this matter 7' • I wish I had not,' I exclaimed fervently.— ' But, oh, Edward, I feel that I have acted wrong; although Heaven knows, I never intended he should love me.' • Well, do not reproach yourself too severely,' he replied in a moumful voice —' Let us go back to the parlor, and forget what has taken place.' We returned together, and Edward's presence alone sustained me for the rest of the evening.— Fear, pity, and remorse made my heart faint, and my cheek pale, and I was wretched. * I think I ondersUnd your feelings,' said Isa-bel wlio listened with deep interest. ' I know how I should have felt under conviction ttiat any thoughtlessness of mine had ruined a fellow b^ ing's happiness — perhaps shattered his intellect 7 But you W r d from Gilbome again 7' ' Listen! He disappeared. For more than two Cs he was absent, and nobody knew what had me of him. At length there came reports to C of a thin haggard youth who wandered about the country, begging for his bread from door to door, pving in return for charity, the touching songs jvhich he sang in a soft melancholy voice, and the musical tones of an accordeon he carried with him, which he played with peculiar feeling and skill; everybody treated him kindly, for a - though he was evidently of an insane mind, there was a mildness, a melancholy enthusiasm ubou t him, which won all hearts. Search was made for him. His friends wero not mistajcen in their sus-picions. He was the wandering Gilbome.' ' Oh, aunt!' exclaimed Isabel, tears filling her eyes. They carried him back to 0 - For several weeks he seemed contented to remain ut home, but at length his disposition to wander re-turned, and he disappeared again.' * One chilly, rainy day, I was sitting alone in my room, amusing myself with my first child— then about six months old — when there wus a ring at the door. Our domestic hud gone out ana there being no one in the house but me, I left Klla playing on the floor, and went to OIMJII the door.' ' 1 started back with an exclamation of alarm. Gilbome dtenuhed with cold rain wus btunding on the sU-ps. 31y first impulse wus of feur, and I would have shut the door in his face, hud he not looked up to me and said iu a ineluncholy voice. ' It luiutf, may I come in 7' ' I was touched. 1 held the door while he en-tertd. There wus a fine fire iu the sitting room, uud 1 mude him sit down before it to dry hii clothes. For ten minutes not a word was sp<>ken by either of us ; but his wild eyes lulluwed ine about the room wherever 1 went. 1 trembled with an iudsfiuuble dreud, and oh, how urdeully I NUMBER 6. l o n ^ ^ hear the fbotateps of Edward in the ' half. I tried to speak to the wretched man, but for lome rsaion I oould not^and hia eyea still f b l l o y d me in tilraoe.' ' ' At length, to iby dismay, I heard crying in the 9ext room. Oilboma started. •Is your chUd 7' he asked. • I t a b l e d as I ^ U e d ^ a t it was, lSimi>£ ' deadly pftt^ he started frojii^ his sent and a p p r o u^ f d ^M^^tiwajfawn whrtw!t theei^ Drooeed4a. M W W m i W ' l i f e n BK hm Thi ^ h o f l ^ that in a moment of frenzy ho might do violence to my child made me desperate.' • You must not go there I' I said. I can hardly tell what followed. I remember that his eyes glared upon me with a momentary blaze of ma-niac passion; that he pushed me from him; that a a dizzy sickness came over mo, and I fell upon the floor.' • When I recovered my senses I saw him bend-ing over my duriing Ella, and she lay on the rug gazing up with baby wonder into his face. With a cry of terror I sprang forward.^ He raised hia head. There was no frenzy in his eyes ; but tears gushed from them, and rolling down his hollow cheeks, fell like rain upon the fuee of my child. •He kissed her, and rising from his knees, begged my pardon in a soft and melancholy voice and words so delicate, that I burst into tears.— Before I could speak ho wus gone.' • How singular!' eiclaimed Isabel. • From that time Gilborne's insanity disappear-ed. He is now a minister in C .' ' I s that the man, the pious, benevolent mild preacher, whom everybody loves so well 7' ' The same. He turned to Heaven the affec-tions which were thrown away upon my unworthy self. I believe he is happy, but even now, when I hear of thoughtless flirtation, I am pained by the reflections which they call up.' ' But they seldom have such a melancholy ter-mination, dear aunt,' timidly suggested Isabel. ' True disappointments in love generally leave sorrow in the heart, without shattering the brain. But there, aro beings of such fine and sensitive natures, that the health of both the body and mind depend upon the soundness of their affec-tions.' Isabel bowed her head to hide a blush and a tear; and from that time she was never known to indulge in thoughtless flirtations. A^JVENTUBES OF A ROYAL COMSIRJNCATIOJR.— A correspondent of the Glasgow Daily Mail vouches for the truth of the following singular story : " A bhort time ago a boy rushed into several * establishments in the central street of a renowned intellectual city, bearing a conimunicaiion having certain significant words printed outride, and ad-dressed '* La Heine d'Angleterre." He stated that as the name could not bo found in either town or country directories, and as all previous search had proved fruitles-s, he had been sent to ask if they knew a • gentleman ' of that name. We do not know whether • La Heine' has since been discovered: but the story goes that somo statement having been accidentally mude to the head of a certain public office in u seaport close by, that neither waiters, cabmen, nor postmen knew euch a name, he instantly announced the startling intelligence, 'La lieine d'Angleterre' is • The guecB of England.'" BLANK VERSK IN TUB POLPIT.—The last thing we should have fancied is to havo heard within the pulpit, echoes of the form and fashion of Longfellow's • Hiawatha.' In the fore part of the season, down at (then not crowded) llamsgate, an acute dissenting preacher, to attract a num'rous guth'ring, advertised his fixed iHtcntion, twice (D. V.) on mo next Sunday, sermons twain to deliv-er, in majestic blank verse uttered. And he did i t ! they who listened had a weary, weary season ; season very weary had they, list'ning to the man who did it; man obese, obese his wit too. To describe we will not venture, how the pump went onward working at each lifting of the handle, dribbling forth its stinted measure. Very puiniuf 'twas to hear it, very pleasant to the speaker; Love was the all-graceful subject; quite w/tlovely was the treatment. But 'twas with a moral point-ed ; moral pointed very sharply; sharply pointed to the pocket; and it showed how if our bosoms glowed with but tho love he puiiUud, we should prove it with a lib'ral coming-down at tho collec-tion.— Atfienctum. POSTAL AUUANOBMENTS.—Postal arrangements at Hume are slightly out of joint. A coniudiun recently applied for a letter at the post oUice, and was told that there were forty cents to pay for it. • I can't pay thut,' said he, ' fur I know what's in it.' ' Well, how much will you give ?' uakcd the postmaster. ' Four sou^ is ull it is worth tu nic.' said the comedian. * Well, take it then,' replied the postiuuster, ' for I've read it, uud it's only a love letter.' A special dispatch to the Boston Journal states that the commissioner of pateuts propuitu.i to in. vite sixty or seventy eminent agrii;ulturalist.i (Vom ditlerunt Htuteii to meet ut Wasliiii:^tuii in cutiveii-tion early in January, tudisou^3 ugrieulturul topics, und compare statistics. l<I;iuh uiie will reuelvo five cents u mile, und fur expenses. Mrs. Ii. II. SigouriiDy, of ll.irtlor-l, has lur-ni- sliod tifiy of our pour fainilioii with turkeys or fuwls, uiid pumpkin pie:>, uf the l>e:>t (piality, too, fur a thuiikbgiving diniiei'.—lioflon I'oit, Not lung biiice, un ulbuin leaf, uii which llyron hud written a tew liuoi uf puetry, wus buld ut Ven-ice, fur 91.0UU.
|Title||North and South, and New Britain journal, 1858-12-04|
|Subject||Antislavery movements -- United States -- Newspapers; New Britain (Conn.) -- Newspapers|
|Description||Frequency: Weekly; Publication dates: Vol. 2, no. 1 (Nov. 6, 1858)-v.2, no. 45 (Sept. 10, 1859); Notes: Editor, Elihu Burritt|
|Contributors||Guernsey, Lucius M; Burritt, Elihu,1810-1879|
|Collection||Newspapers of Connecticut|
|Source - Location||Connecticut State Library microfilm, AN104.N5 N67|
|Relation||Preceding title: North and South (New Britain, Conn.); Succeeding title: New Britain times (New Britain, Conn. : 1859)|
|Rights||Digital Image © Connecticut State Library. All rights reserved. Images may be used for personal research or non-profit educational uses without prior permission. For permission to publish or exhibit, see Reproducation and Publication of State Library Collections, http://ctstatelibrary.org/reproduction-publication/|
|Title-Alternative||New Britain journal; The North and South, and New Britain journal|
|CONTENTdm file name||15844.cpd|
T MiE NORTH AND SOUTll,
^ i l r i i i l r l i r i t » i i . t r i i r i s iL
VOLUME 11. NEW BRITAIN, CONNECTICUT,
T H E
QVnb New I3rilain Jonrnal,
B l i i n v n V R R I T T , E d i l a r,
l i . m . O V B R N S E Y , P r o p r i o t * .
WILL BB IMDED BTKB7 SATVBDAT,
Vrom ih* Printing Offloe of tli* Tiopriator, in tli« Bu*m«nt pf
the Baptlft Chntoh, Niw BuiAix, Coax.
TBmMf:—$1.60 per annum, in Advanoe. la bandies
of five or more to one nddress, 91*25.
llemben of Noraal School, iab
|CONTENTdm file name||15840.pdfpage|