Franklin Repository

Election night comes but once a year, and always in the midst of the "melancholy day," to some more particularly in fact rather than in song, "the saddest of the year." It comes with Dame Nature in her richest variegated robes, as if to teach to mortals that in this mundane sphere, and especially in elections, there is a glorious uncertainty that often upsets the neatest figures and knocks to smithereens, "Those high built hopes that crush us by their fall." But it has its compensations, as generous. Nature seems never to be without them. With the fading leaves of the forest and the fading majorities of sanguine candidates, some golden fruits of corn fields and orchards, and chestnut boys and apple dames are ever crossing your path with ceaseless efforts to soothe [sic] the bitterest disappointments. How the bewitching--"have a quart sir--only ten cents sir?" breaks upon the swelling surges of political grief, and the amiable flame's "two for a penny, sir--soft and sweet," comes like the evening's sun rays upon the tempest-hidden heavens.

So election day came on the memorable 13th of October, 1863. In strict accordance with the almanac, the sun rose in the east as usual, and majestically coursed his way westward, as if ignorant of the earnest strife below him, and set with becoming splendor at the appointed time by the Town clock. The day was big with destiny. So newspapers had told us in words of bewildering pathos, and orators of every grade had harangued the "toiling millions" from street corners, store boxes, beer barrels, town pumps and balconies--each one insisting that the defeat of his particular candidate would frighten the stars and comets from their courses, jar the world from its axis, make the war last a little beyond forever; make the National debt so large that a new arithmetic would have to be invented to calculate it; make the taxes so immense that all the property of the country would be taken each year in part payments, posterity to be mortgaged for the balance, and last but not least, that sundry fence rails, and horses and forage stolen or taken by the military would be unpaid until considerably after the crack of doom. Such at least were a Reporter's impressions after listening to the senior of the Repository and scores of others as they saved the government by "much speaking," night after night on the Curtin side, and our convictions were only deepened, intensified and confounded as we heard the poetic Brewer, the historic Duncan, the festive Orr and their coadjutors in behalf of Woodward. We heard all in patience as our Reportial duties imperatively demanded, and on the great day we sat in sorrowing silence as we contemplated what must be the issue when so much truth and error come in actual conflict. We thought of starless nights; of sunless days; of wandering orbs playing fantastic tricks, of comet's tails sweeping we knew not where and crushing we knew not what; and in despair we awaited the coming chaos.

But the day came just as other days--the sun shone with accustomed brilliancy--the few remaining birds were merry as before--men walked on their feet, talked with their tongues, "smiled" with their lips, and voted as they liked just as in times gone by, and we took heart ere the day wore into gentle evening, and hoped that another sun might still rise and that a few more days might be vouchsafed to our imperiled Country. The valiant leaders on both sides contested the ground with matchless energy--encouraging the timid, inspiring the doubtful, stealing the oblivious and voting all for the "the ticket, the whole ticket, and nothing but the ticket." As the evening hours grew upon the belligerent hosts, their steps quickened, their "smiles" thickened, and their words grew in earnestness as dying time taught brevity. At last the magic hour of seven was solemnly tolled by the old clock--down went the windows, and the battling armies withdrew to await the reports of killed and wounded.

It was then that the Report[or]ial duties thickened. The streets resounded with bewildering yells for favorite candidates, and abortive bets and bloodless fights were to be met with at every corner. We called for a secure base of operations and reinforcements. A council of war was convened in the fourth story of the Repository office, consisting of the proprietors, foreman, and the satanic corps. It was resolved to make the Editorial room the base of all operation, and to keep it open as long as dispatches could be had by telegraph, without regard to the character of the news. The junior imp insisted upon distracting the council with hurra[h]s for Gen. Geo. B. McCurtin, but the foreman finally gagged him with a copy of the Spirit and Times and thus preserved order. The devils were deployed as skirmishers under immediate command of the foreman, and to insure system and safety to all, the following general order was issued:

Head Quarters Repository Office
Chambersburg, Oct. 13th, 1863.

General Order No. 1,254,349.

1. The Satanic Corps of this Department will be in readiness for duty at 7.25 P.M. to-day with twelve hours rations and drinks.

2. They will preserve the utmost decorum under all circumstances. No pitching of chestnuts, or pinning of pocket handkerchiefs or printed devices on dignitaries will be allowed.

3. Water shall invariably be mixed with their beverages, and not more than twelve strong drinks per hour will be allowed when upon duty.

4. No flags of truce will be allowed before strangers. To avoid accidents of this kind, the whole corps will wear long coats until relieved.

5. To prevent demoralization in this corps no betting on the election will be allowed--unless the corps is sure to win, and all winnings shall belong to the foreman.

6. If entrusted with despatches for these headquarters containing favorable news, they will thank the messenger and return with all possible haste.

7. If unfavorable news be given them on the outposts, they will knock the bearer down and suppress the news on the obvious ground of military necessity.

8. The corps is positively forbidden to ask defeated candidates "what thunder that was" or "whether the lightning struck anybody else," particularly if such candidates belong to our side.

9. Satanic Corps! The eyes of the world are upon you. The Repository expects every man to do his duty.

Kirby, Foreman.

The order was read at the head of each squad, and the devils grinned out from their inky faces their enthusiastic approbation. They were immediately deployed upon duty, and soon the junior imp rushed in, shouting--"North Ward 282 for Curtin--bully for Old Andy--the Cop--." The foreman arrested the imp's enthusiasm at this point, and read article 8th of General Orders No. 1,254,349 to the offender some fifty-seven time, so as to impress him properly and avoid the necessity of punishment hereafter. He manifested his appreciation of the foreman's solemnity by slipping peanut shells into the foreman's boots, while he read the order. In a few minutes another of the corps came in with a somersault and yelled "South Ward--18 for--for--for--I'll go back and inquire who!" The foreman's boot-toe struck the door jam about one-eighth of an inch behind a receding body, as a satanic streak vanished down stairs, and the entire articles of the general order were again read to the members of the corps not on duty some eleven times to guard against future accidents. South Ward was now announced a 18 for Curtin, and the inky faces of the satanic corps were wreathed with smiles, the Union men were jubilant. McLellan sat at one end of the table and thought that "the indications" were favorable--the majority in the county would probably be a million or a million and a half. Eyster thought that the majority would not be quite so large, and several hundred thousand dollars were immediately bet upon the result. The senior of the Repository sat in front of the table with telegraphic dispatches flying around him like snow-flakes on an angry fall day. Having been made stake-holder for several bets he went in freely himself and lost on Hamilton, on Allegheny, &c. We learn that he has adjusted matters and secured an extension. The junior having bet seven dollars and a half on the general result, shut himself up in the counting room and listened through the key-hole until Curtin's election was settled, when he stepped into the headquarters with an air of majestic indifference and said he "knew it would go all right." One of the satanic corps in the corner whispered "key-hole fortitude," but the foreman flung the sheeps-foot at him and proceeded to read the order again several times.

One of the most trusty of the corps was now detailed with a squad to hang crape upon the doors of the Democratic headquarters. Their lights were out--their garlands dead, and their banquet halls were deserted. Orr's office was found bolted, craped and the key-hole stopped up with an election calculation from the Spirit office, giving the Democratic ticket 300 majority in the county. He had turned philosopher and subsided early. The detail next went to Brewer's, but found obstructions near the door in the shape of a pile of wood. After various strategic movements the gallant squad flanked the wood pile and reached the door. The leader just then bethought him that the obstructions might be a pile of greenbacks thrown out to trade for wood, cord for cord, and forthwith he plunged his Barlow-Damascus blade into the innocent oak, and left a wiser and sadder devil. It was wood! Duncans, Stengers, the Spirit, &c., were duly draped and the detail returned. By this time the headquarters were filled up with both parties. Duncan, Kennedy, Douglas, Stenger, Kimmell and other defeated heroes, recovered their breath and mingled with the Union crowd and laughed disaster in the face. Kimmell dilated on the rural districts and the "frosty sons of thunder" in Somerset and yelled "served him right" as a dispatch was read announcing that Vallandigham had run only a few scattering votes in Ohio. Just then a suppressed voice was heard from the satanic corps in the corner--"Why is Judge Kimmell like a pile of brick?" "Give it up!" "Cause he may be turned himself but he can't turn a Somerset!" The foreman immediately split the fire-board over the imp's head, and he vaulted out of the room congratulating himself that kindling would be plenty in the morning. Dispatches from the leading towns of the State now flooded in, all announcing Curtin gains, and the crowd mingled merrily and fought the battle over loquaciously. Duncan waited until Allegheny was reported at from 8,000 to 10,000 and still rising; Lancaster at 6,000; Philadelphia at 7,000 and Dauphin at 1,500, when he determined to retire the Democratic army by proclamation. He therefore issued the following, which was read eleven times from the steps of the Spirit office and printed in letters of salt on the board fences for the cows to lick at:

Democratic Head-Quarters,
Chambersburg, Oct. 13--11 P.M.

Democrats! We've met the Abolition, Black Republican, Wooly-head, Nigger-war, Greenback, National-debt, Oppressive-tax, anti-fence-paying Party, and we are their'n! The causes of the great disaster are as numerous as the stars of the heaven or the sands of the sea: but I attribute it mainly to want of votes! Had we polled more votes than the other side, and the other side polled less than we did, I feel safe in saying that we would have routed them horse, foot and dragoon--but we didn't and "that's what's the matter!"

Our reinforcements from our Southern friends, as promised us by the Richmond Enquirer, having failed to reach our lines in time, I can only say in this hour of gloom, that all is lost save--our Country. Of our glorious Democratic party, I am bound to declare that--

"Sickness sits cavern'd in its hollow eye!"

And--

Is is [sic] not better to die willingly

Than to linger till the glass be all outrun?"

I therefore pronounce the Democratic party dead, dead, dead! "After life's fitful fever it sleeps well."

Duncan.

The funeral solemnities being over, all parties resumed their wonted good humor, and the chiefs of the Repository and of the Spirit, and the stumpers of both sides sat around the same table and had merry jokes over the battle just closed. The genial temper of the circle was here broken by a gutteral [sic] sound from the corner--"Democrats vote early and see that your neighbors vote!" It was one of the imps reading the last issue of the Spirit. The foreman and the Editor of the Spirit examined the general order--the Editor insisting that it was a violation of all decorum to read his own paper to him under the circumstances, and the foreman so construed the order: whereupon the offending imp was reduced to but one quart of ches[t]nuts and two quarts of lager for the balance of the night. Just then Letterkenny came in with a whirlwind of Democracy--"84 for Woodward," was the cry. Smiling faces blanched and there was a calm as various pencils made hasty figures on election tables. A medium sized, mild-mannered gentleman then entered, and the satanic corps were about to greet him with a volley of pea-nuts as the bearer of Letterkenny, when the foreman gasped "Gen. Couch," and palsied the impy arms. In a suppressed tone they gravely discussed the problem--how so amiable gentleman could make killing his trade, and finally made various strategic efforts to ascertain whether he was for Curtin or Woodward. They watched to see whether he laughed on the Greenvillage or Letterkenny side of his mouth; but he defied their ingenuity by his genial humor under all reports. Finally one of the impatient imps yelled out--"Why is Gen. Couch like the Editor of the Spirit?" "'Cause he don't hurrah at elections!" The foreman again enforced decorum by reading his order some fifteen or twenty times, and the General, after a pleasant chat with both sides, made a "masterly retreat." The corps gave him three cheers as he left, and the junior devil took advantage of the confusion to ask--"Why is Duncan, Chairman of the Democratic Committee, like Poe's raven?" A painful silence followed so doleful an inquiry, when the little imp in sepulchral tones answered--"Never more! The foreman hurled the shooting-stick and mallet at the refractory little satan, but he dodged them all and with ghastly grin disappeared.

The storm "wee sma' hours" had now stolen in upon the scene, and the election had ceased to be of interest. The county was for Curtin--the whole Union county ticket was elected--the State had gone for Curtin; and when the head was off the Democracy it mattered little how many arms or legs were saved by local majorities. One by one the crowd fell off and the head-quarters were about to be closed for the night, when the junior imp rushed in with a copy of an important correspondence between the Chairmen of the County Committees. He insisted that it was genuine--that he had seen it fall out of the hats of the Chairmen with several "bricks," and he vouched for its genuineness. Assured that under the strict orders of the foreman the little satanic would not commit forgery, we accept the correspondence as correct and give it herewith to our readers:

[Copy.]

Union County Committee Rooms,
Chambersburg, Oct. 13,--11.50 P.M.

Sir: I am credibly informed that you are at the head of a most valuable troupe of vaulters and blowers, who are singularly skillful in reducing Democratic majorities.

I desire at this early period to secure the services of your self and troupe for the next season to speak for the Democratic party at stated periods, and thus promote the success of the Union ticket.

Please inform me what you will take for the first thirty nights.

Very Respectfully

Your obedient servant, John Stewart.
Chairman Union Co. Committee.
To C.M. Duncan, Esq., Chairman Dem. Co. Com.

[Copy.]

Democratic County Committee Rooms,

Chambersburg, Oct. 13--11:58 P.M.

Sir: I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your favor proposing to employ myself and troupe for the next political season, and asking what we "will take for the first thirty nights."

In answer I would say that we "will take" brandy and water moderately mixed. We regard water as very good for purposes of navigation, but object to it as a steady beverage.

Very respectfully

Your obedient servant, C.M. Duncan,
Chairman Democratic County Com.

To John Stewart, Esq., Chairman Union Co. Com.

The negociations [sic] were progressing favorably at last accounts, and it is hoped that the contract will be consum[m]ated.

Order and quiet now resumed their sway in the venerable village of Chambersburg, and the Reporter's rest came as the lights faded out, and the angry tide of political strife gave way in obedience to the demands of exhausted nature. Honor to the heroism and pardon to the follies of the late campaign. It has ended well, and is now history. Long live the Republic!

Last year Franklin county was about a tie, and part of each ticket was elected. Since then the Union cause has had almost every possible embarrassment. The loss of property by rebel raids--the wanton destruction of property by our own military--the frauds often practiced upon the people by persons assuming to act in various military capacities, and the failure of the government to remunerate them, cost us hundreds of votes. In addition to this we were in the midst of a draft that is benefit[t]ing the government but little and annoying and oppressing the people very much; and there is not a voter in the county effected by any of these causes who was not visited and appealed to by Copperheads to vote against the government, because it was faithless to its own people.

In the face of all these embarrassments the Union men went into the contest; and but for the untiring and systematic labor performed, the county would have been lost. John Stewart, Esq., the Chairman of the Union County Committee, rendered most important service to the cause. He discharged his responsible duties with matchless fidelity and consummate skill, and has justly earned his rank as an admirable popular leader. He was nobly sustained not only by the leading friends of the Union cause in the differing districts, but on the stump, in council and in every way, by Eyster, Clark, Everett, Stumbaugh, Bonebrake, M'Lellan, Nill, Seilhamer and others who gave their best energies to the good work.

In addition to thees [sic], Mr. Jay, of New Jersey, and Hon. F. Bound, of Northumberland, contributed much to our success by their pointed and eloquent speeches in different parts of the county. Each of them spent a week in the county, speaking every night, and their efforts were most acceptable and effective. They will be gratefully remembered by the Union men of the "Green Spot."

Late on Tuesday night, after the election returns had been counted in Hamilton, Mr. Michael Coble and Henry Riley, two officers of the election, accompanied by Richard Ridgley and John Row, were going home, and when a little beyond the western gate-house met some soldiers. A slight altercation ensued, in which Mr. Coble took no part however, and stones were thrown by both sides. Mr. Coble had not stopped, but gone on ahead of his companions. After parleying some time with the soldiers, they followed on up the hill, and the soldiers fired several shots, two of which took effect in Mr. Coble, one in the head, and killing him almost instantly. Subsequently a squad of soldiers were sent out to arrest those who had fired the shots, and one soldier attempted to escape by running away, when the squad fired and wounded one of their own squad seriously but not fatally. It is not yet known who killed Mr. Coble, and no arrests have yet been made. Mr. Coble was a most estimable citizen.

We but reflect the convictions of the people generally in this section when we say that our soldiers are often wanting in that discipline that is essential to their own and the public safety. True, they are raw troops as a rule; but their officers cannot too soon learn the necessity of requiring them to use their arms against the public enemy and not against unarmed citizens.

The administration has wisely determined to call three hundred thousand additional troops into the field; and requisitions have been, or soon will be, made upon the several States for their respective quotas. Every effort will be made by a direct appeal to the people to furnish these men as volunteers, and to that end generous bounties will be paid to experienced soldiers, and even raw recruits will receive a liberal reward for entering the service. This step of the government is eminently proper. Two weeks or two months ago it could not have been done with any hope of success. The people were involved in bitter political struggles in the leading States, and the judgment of the Nation was questioned as to the policy of the administration. Now, however, the people have demanded by decisive verdict, that the government shall prosecute the war until Treason ceases to array itself in hostile ranks against the Republic; and we doubt not that the patriotic of all parties will so accept it and bow to their decision. The Democratic party, when separated from a few unworthy leaders in each locality, who have brought mingled disaster and dishonor upon it, is loyal to the core; and now that the purpose of the people is clearly defined, they will without regard to party lines, rally around the Old Flag and make common cause to hasten Peace by the destruction of the insurgent armies.

Rosecrans has been driven from the Chickamauga back upon Chattanooga, and compelled to assume the defensive, solely because he was overwhelmed by numbers. Had he fifty thousand additional men to-day he could at once resume the offensive and close his already brilliant campaign by holding the very heart of the rebel dominions; destroying vast sources of supplies, and crippling them most vitally. Had Meade fifty thousand fresh troops he would not be retiring before Lee and avoiding proffered battle, lest a disaster should make our National Capitol the trophy of traitors; nor would the people of the border counties be trembling under a sense of insecurity to their homes and property. On the contrary, Gen. Meade if strong as he should be, would speedily transfer the war to the Cotton States; restore Richmond and all of Virginia to to [sic] loyal rule, and establish permanent peace and safety on the border. If Grant had fifty thousand additional troops he would capture Mobile in thirty days, acting in concert with Rosecrans, and in the same time would settle the threatening question of French foothold in Mexico and Texas by re-possessing the entire territory of Texas. If Gen. Gilmore had twenty-five thousand men he would capture Charleston and Savannah in twenty days, and Foster with a like number of re-inforcements would open the only remaining port of Wilmington to the trade of the world, and have his head-quarters in the capital of North Carolina before the holidays.

These are the fruits which must result from the prompt and ample strengthening of our armies, and they would be the immediate harbingers of Peace. With such achievements the rebellion would cease to have either government or armies--either head, or heart, or life; and another six months would bring us practically to the end of the war. If we throw three hundred thousand new troops into the field now, the rebels could not fight a single pitched battle. They would be unequal to our gallant armies at every point, and the most decisive results would be attained with but little loss of life.

Let it be borne in mind that the addition of three hundred thousand men to our brave brethren now in the field, is the true principle of economy. It will save thousands of lives, millions of dollars, insure early and honorable Peace, and give to us, to our children and to the world the American Republic in strengthened bonds of Union. Let loyal men sink political differences--let them join hearts and hands to hasten the ultimate triumph of our common Flag, by swelling the ranks of the army, and we can then rejoice as members of a common brotherhood over the preservation of our common Nationality.

Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and Iowa have spoken, in tones not to be misunderstood, declaring that the Republic shall live! The joyful tidings have flashed from the coast of Maine to the slopes of the Pacific; from the North-western wilderness to the mouth of the Father of Waters; from the swelling hearts of a loyal people at home to the threatened veterans of Rosecrans and Meade, and there is rejoicing and gratitude wherever unmingled loyalty has a home, that the great States of the North have resolved to strengthen the hands of the government; to cheer the brave defenders of its Flag, and to preserve unimpaired and unspotted our sacred Nationality.

There is Pennsylvania--behold her! After a contest waged against her patriotism and fidelity by subtle, insidious, sleepless foes--after a season of bewildering defamation and unscrupulous appeals to every passion or prejudice that warred upon the Country--after denouncing everything but treason to the ignorant, and promising everything to the patriot--the people have vindicated their undying devotion to the Institutions of their Fathers, and hurled back in hapless despair those who sought power to paralyze the government in its deadly struggle with treason. The Keystone State has spoken in behalf of her martyred dead--has declared that theirs shall be sepulchres of honor, not of shame--has defended her living from that sordid cowardice that would barter a Republic for the shadow of Peace, with anarchy and degradation as its fruits.

Ohio has joined with Pennsylvania in spurning treason of every shade; and Vallandigham, in the retreat that his hate for his government and people has assigned him, has heard with crushing mortification the verdict: The Republic must live--Treason shall die! Indiana has mingled her voice with ours, and announced her purpose to support the friends; to dethrone the foes of the government: and little Iowa, away on the sunset side of the Mississippi, answers across in thunder tones, her determination to preserve the Union without cowardly compromise or humiliating concession to give life and hope to future traitors.

Especially do we rejoice that Pennsylvania has a faithful Executive. Andrew G. Curtin has served his great State and his Country's cause with a devotion and singleness of purpose in which none but himself has been his parallel. His herculean labors and ceaseless care for the brave sons of Pennsylvania, have stricken him with untimely frosts--have dimmed his eye, and borne him down life's rapid stream with quickened pace; but his heart beats with all the ardor of youth in behalf of his imperiled Nationality and People, and while treason lives to hate and to crimson the steps of Freedom, the power of his mighty State will be ever wielded as its deadly foe. All honor to Gov. Curtin--all hail faithful, loyal Pennsylvania! The Republic lives!