Staunton Spectator, And General Advertiser

THE BRIGHT SIDE OF HUMAN NATURE.

In a letter published in the Lynn (Mass.) Pioneer, giving a description of the fire in Pittsburg, we find the following passage:

"The big church below me kept the flames in check, and not until the buildings beyond me had done their worst did my house take fire. I was sitting upon a trunk, my wife beside me, and Jesse behind us in the open cross street a little east of our house, when four or five of the mass came to me and asked where my house was. I pointed to it, and accordingly they went to work and cleared every room in that house, bringing out every thing, I believe, that it contained, the kitchen furniture only excepted; they brought out every bedstead, every bureau; they brought my lip salve, my tooth brush, all my books and papers, every straggling pamphlet and newspaper; and, finally, pulled my sign off the window-shutter. Nor did they stop at this; but they procured a dearborn wagon, and never stopped till they had carried every article to a place of safety, taking glasses and breakable articles in their hands. I do not know the name of one of them. Two black girls of fourteen or fifteen years of age carried out a good furniture wagon load of articles, taking them up to the new court-house and watching them till they were finally removed, and all refused not only compensation or wages, but they refused to accept presents.

To one man I presented a mantel clock; because I believed it could not be saved but by being carefully carried to the country. He took it away. Yesterday I left my office-door open; and, when I came back, the clock was on the mantelpiece keeping time and exactly right. My goods were carried to six or seven different places upon the hill above the town; they have all been returned to me I believe, and all that I have paid for trouble taken was two dollars to the wagoner. Yesterday a colored woman brought home our first washing of white clothes since the fire, and begged that we would accept the trifling favor from her, because we had done so much for 'her kind of people.' Mrs. E. saw a bundle of her clothes upon a cart on the evening of the fire as she was going up on the hill; she took hold of it. and the cart went on, leaving the heavy bundle on the road with her. Two little-ragamuffin boys, less than twelve years old, came to her assistance, and carried it a great way to the house of an acquaintance; when she took out her purse to pay them there was not a cent in it. It was a handsome bead purse; she offered it to them. 'No, indeed,' said one of them, 'we'd be ashamed to take any thing from you at such a time as this.' These were your regular alley blackguards."