TK3 BEDFORD GAZETTE
IS PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAT MOSMNO
BY IS. I\ MEYERS,
\t the following terms, to wit:
$2 00 jer annum, if paid strictly in advance.
$.2.50 if paid within G months ; $3.00 if not paid
within 6 months.
subscription taken for less than six months
C?-No paper discontinued until all arrearages are
paid unless at the option of the publisher. It has
been' decided by the United States Courts that the
stoppage of a newspaper without the payment of
arrearages, is prima facie evidence of fra.ud and is
E criminal offence.
[£7"The courts have decided tlfat persons are ac
countable for the subscription price of newspapers,
if they take them from the post office, whether they
•übscribe for them, or not.
Sel££t*|io-£trri. •
THE MOTHERS RRXYB^
BY MES. HELEN RICH.
It cime from the lips that had pressed the first kiss
On the brow of young innocence, sleeping in blis3,
And soft as the sigh of the evening's sweet air
Sank into the bosom— a mother's prayer.
It was murmured in accents soft, tender and meek,
Tho' the eyes kindled brightly, pale was the cheek ;
An angel she seemed, as she lowly knelt there,
For her child sottly breathing—a mother's pure
prayer.
It asked for the loved on e, not riches or power,
beauty that lades as the glow from the flower,
But virtue aud genius—gifts deathless as fair—
For these she was breathing a mother's pure prayer.
It is past, and her child is away on the tide
Of a life ever changing with passion and pride—
Tho' temptation may lure him, it whispers beware,
And the iast thing to fade s—a mother's dear prayer.
It may not be slighted—it cannot be vaia—
it will cling to its memory thro' pleasure or pain,
Though his sky frowceth darkly, what saves from
despair ?
lis the thought of his home, and his mother's last
prayer.
It has breathed a deep spell o'er the soul in its mom,
A charm from all evil, by memory worn,
A gem whose clear rays never pale 'neath the glare
Of the false lights alluring from her and from prayer.
It may seem but a trifle, yet do not withhold,
l'oung mother, that boon far more precious than
gold—
Your child may lack tinsel of fashion to wear,
But strengthen his'soul with a mother's fond prayer.
It was breathed to a God who can teel for our woes,
A Father in whom all believers repose,
And lost is the spirit which madly would dare
To scoif at the truth of a mother's first prayer.
THE PUBLIC DE3T.
On the 31st of March an authorized state
ment from the Treasury Department was made
partially exhibiting the debt of the nation.—
The items given are these:
Aint bearing interest in coin $1,100,361,241 SO
Amount bearing interest in
currency 751,055,128 20
Amount on which interest
has ceased 349,420 09 j
Amount bearing no interest 515,180,287 10
Legal tender notes 69,522,350 00
La States notes, old issue 492,101 00
" " " new issue 432.068,465 00
Compound interest notes 156,477,650 00
Fractional currency 24,255,094 00
Unpaid requisitions 114,256,649 00
§3,164,626,280 34
No very agreeable picture for tax-payers to
behold. A debt of over 53,000,000,000 to be
paid when butter is down to 12 cents a pound,
oats 30 cents, and wheat less lhan a dollar a
bushel. To properly manage our finances will;
require more skill than our present rulers pos
The A forth American does not take the most
hopeful view of the currency question. It says:
"In some respects it (the exhibit of Mr. Mc-
Cullocfc) is not 30 favorable as had been pre
dicted. The unpaid requisitions have not been
extinguished, no less than yi 14,250,5400f them
being still afloat, and with only means in the;
Treasury to meet some i-i 7,000,000. The state- j
merit put in circulation that the receipts from
the seven-thirty loan had enabled the Secretary
to wipe out the unpaid requisitions was there
fore an error. Nor is the exhibit of the legal
tender issues any more favorable. Taking into
the account the interest bearing notes, the whole
aggregate is <5683,558,074, which added to
§ 104,000,000 of National banknotes, gives us
a currency reaching $757,559,074, exclusive of
State bauk issues. There does not appear to
have been any effort to reduce this vast volume
of currency, whatever the opinions of the Sec
retary may have been in favor of ..such reduc
tion." All talk, therefore, of returning to the
specie basis on such a currency is simply a mat
ter of moonshine. The first step toward redu
cing the paper currency has not yet been taken
by the Treasury Department, and hence the
changes witnessed in the financial world are to
be traced to other causes.
We, of course, do not expect that the Secre
tary can or should take any step in that direc-!
tion while there continues to be such a mass of j
unpaid requisition, or in plain terms, unhonor- 5
e l obligations.
m m ***** \
To have any portion of our national debt
bearing compound interest reflects no credit up
on the country, and is well calculated to diffuse
abroad an erroneous impression respecting our
resources and willingness to meet its obligations
regularly."
fcS-A Yankee auctioneer lately indulged in the
following little bit of the pathetic:
"Gentlemen, if my father and mother stood
where you do, and didn't buy these boots, these
elegant boots, when they were going for one dol
lar, I should feel it my duty as a son, to tell
both of them that they were false to themselves
and false to their country."
IJ3TA good wife is the greatest of blessings.
She always attends to things generally, and gets
no in the morning and makes the fire in partic
ular ; besides slipping down "to the market, over
to the grocer's, up to the baker's and seeing to
the breakfast all around. The husband of such
an invention has little to do but. to enjoy the
luxuries of life, wear well starched shirts, whole
breeches, exchange winks with the girls oppo
site, and go down town about 11 A. M.
©arThe best exercise is that in general that we
most like to do.
• J ' jjj 'j l * ' I I
VOLUME 60.
NEW SERIES.
ul t£l)riiling Stovn.
. A NIGrHT OF PERIL.
A DETECTIVE'S STOP.V.
Of course it i-> to bo expected that in a life
like mine I should often be exposed to danger
of a personal character: it is the lot " nil de
tective officers, and I have been no exception
to the rule. In the course of my life I have
'..ceil subjected several (ime3 to extreme peril,
in the following story I am about to give an
instance of such peril to the reader.
One day 1 was snt for by the President of
the Hank of Commerce. When I arrived there
i found the whole bank in a state of consterna
tion. The safe bad been broken into during
the night, and all the specie abstracted. _ I im
mediately proct led to examine the safe, and
found that the locks bad been forced; but a
single glance was sufficient to show me that the
locks had been forced after it had been opened,
or in other words whoever had taken the mon
ey had wished to convey the impression that it
had been forced open from the outside. Oi
course I at once came to the conclusion that
some one connected with the establishment had
tab n the money. While examining the spot,
I found on the ground a single leaf of a white
Provence rose. It is the observation of small
things that makes a good detective, for it is of
ten lije most trivial circumstance which sup
plies the first link it. the chain. I did not pick
up this rose leaf nor indeed.appose to notice it.
After the scrutiny was over, I weut to the Pres
ident's, Mr. Cameron's apartment.
"Well, Brampton," said he, ''what do you
make out of it 1"
"Do vou suspect anybody connected with tL?
bank I asked.
"Certainly not! It is impossible that anybody
connected with the bank could have committed
the robbery: it must have been the work of
burglars. Did you visit where the
robbers entered?"
"Yes, and found that the bare had been filed
from the inside."
"Indeed ! —but what do you make out about
the safe ?"
"That the lock was forced after the safe was
opened."
"That some one connected with the bank is
guilty of the robbery; and he has endeavored
to make it appear that it is the work of profes
sional burglars. But he has done his work very
bunglingly."
"You must he mistaken," replied the Presi
dent. "1 would answer for all in the employ
of the bank with my life."
"I am afraid you would lose it,'" I replied,
with a smile, "for there can be no doubt about j
.he truth of my assertion."
"But bow will you prove it?"
"That remains to be seen. How many have ;
yon in the employ of the bank ?"
"Twelve, including the porter."
"Who has care of the safe?"
"Mr. Charles Munsel."
"Have any of your clerks a special fondness (
for flowers?"
"That is a strange question. But since you
ask it, I remember that Munsel generally has a
flower in his buttonhole."
"Who is this Munsel?"
"A very worthy young man. You surely
do not suspect him ?" j
"I shall be very much surprised if he does
not prove to be the robber."
"But you astonish me ! He has the reputa
tion of being very pious."
"Very well, we shall see. Where does he !
live?"
"No. East Broadway."
"What time does he go to dinner?"
"At two o'clock."
"Just point him out to rac as I go through
the bank, and I will see you again to-morrow |
morning."
Mr. Cameron did as I requested. The young
man I suspected was about twenty-five years oi
age. He was quite handsome, it might have '
been my fancy, but I thought there was a hyp
ocritical look about his face. I glanced earnest
ly at him, So that 1 might engrave his counte
nance in my memory, and then passed into the
street. i
I directed my steps at once to East Broad
way, and calling at the clerk's residence, I found !
that it was furnished in gorgeous style, far he- ,
yond his means. The dour was opened by a
shrewd old woman. I asked to see Mr. Mun
sel, but was of course told that he was not at
home. But my purpose was answered by my
visit, fur in the hall, I saw a quantity of choice
flowers in pots, and among them a fine Provence
rose. I employed the rest of the day in making
inquiries as to the private life of Mr. Munsel,
and found that he was very extravagant in his
habits, and also discovered that on that very
day he had deposited a large sum of money un
der a false name in the Manhattan Savings
Bank. The next morning I went to the bank
for the purpose of reporting my progress to the
President, and to advise the immediate arrest of
young Munsel.
"Well, you were right about that young
man said Mr. Cameron to inc, the moment!
entered his private room.
"You have come to that conclusion, have
you?" I replied.
"Yes, after you had gone yesterday, I caused
his accounts to be examined, and found a terri
ble deficit, amounting to $30,000. I called him
into the room, and asked him for an explana
tion—"
"The worst thing you could have done," I
interrupted.
"You are right—he has escaped."
"I expected as much. And where has he
gone ?"
"He left last night by the southern train—at
least so we suspected. He ha an uncle living
about fifteen miles from Augusta, Ga., and it
is very likely he has gone there. Now, Mr-
Brampton, you must follow him."
Freedom of Thought and Opinion.
BEDFORD, PA., FRIDAY MORNING, MAY 12,1565.
j "If you had left the matter in my hands, he j
should have been arrested without any trouble." j
j "1 acknowledge lam in fault, and lam the
i more anxious to have him captured. Come, I
! will pay you well. Say you will go."
| It was the middle of summer, decidedly not!
the be: * time to travel in. But the affair was
imperative, and I was obliged to undertake the
journey. The same afternoon at 5 o'clock, I
started on my expedition.
Railway traveling in July! Who is there
that has experienced it, that does not vividly
remember its discomforts. The hot glaring sun,
the dint, the intolerable thirst, and the warm
'. water in the coolers, are all evils of such mag
nitude, that they make an indelible impression
on the mind. Why, at the very thought of it
at this moment, my throat feels choked up, and
1 foci the pricking of the flinty dust in my skin.
And then the view from the car window; how
hot and glaring every thing looks. The poor
cows are panting in the meadows, the dogs at
the stations appear to be on the verge of hy
drophobia, everybody and everything is lazy,
excepting the flies; and it appears to be their
particular province to keep passengers from
dozing, so that liiey (the passengers) may not
lose any of the beauties of the scenery,
j The longest journey must eventually come to
an end, and after three days of really hard work,
I reached the pleasing town of Augusta, in Ga.
I was, however, in a very bad humor. I was
annoyed at the banker's want of thought in al
lowing his dishonest clerk to escape. Now,
when a man is in a bad humor with a journey
he is about to take, he is very apt to consider
the town at which he is compelled to stay us
the most odious place in the world. I was no
exception to this general rule. I hated Augus
i ta, I detested it, 1 abominated it, I—but 1 can
' not '"ust now think of any other work to ex
i crn city, I went to .'he b?si hotel in the city, and
entered my name in the .most savage manner,
j actually blotting the book 111 tnd aa h nrjch to
1 the disgust of a precise looking clerk, TVil? stood
looking at me while I made the entry.
At last I partook of supper, and I must con
j fess after that genial meal "a change came over
the spirit of ray dream." After all, Augusta
was not such a very bad place. I actually be
t gau to think that it possessed some very fine
streets aud elegant houses. A cup of tea will
sometimes work a marvel. I determined I would
go and explore the city till bed time, and make
! inquiry after the absconding bank robber.
This young man's fondness for flowers seem
j ed to he the greatest misfortune that could be
j fall him. I have mentioned that a single bud
1 remained on the rosebush in his hall. During
my investigations this bud had blossomed. When
{ lie absconded from Now York, he took thisflow
ier with him. By means of it I had no diificul
ity in tracing him to Augusta. There was some
; thing peculiar about the rose; it was a large
j white one, and fortunately attracted She atten
j tiors of all the conductors on the route. My
I business was now to visit all the hotels in the
I city, to see if he had been there. The "first one
I entered immediately settled the question in my
' mind that Munsel had left Augusta, and this
! too before I made a single inquiry.
I entered the bar room, and the first thing I
1 noticed was a faded Provence rose on a chair,
j On the back of this chair was a newspaper.
I took it up, and my eyes at once fell on a par
j agraph containing an account of the bankrob
bery in New York; but I was immediately
i struck with the tact that where the person of
the defaulter was described, the paper was mu
tilated, seemingly accidentally, but sufficiently
:soas to mar the description. This paper was
the New York Herald, and from its date I knew
it had only been delivered in Augusta that morn
ing. I walked up to the bar and called for
something to drink. While the barkeeper was
' preparing it, I said to him carelessly:
"There was a young man here this morning
! with very black hair and (lark eyes; he was of
medium height, but stooped a little."
"I suppose you saw him here," replied the
1 barkeeper. "lie did not stay long, however,
but loft with Mr. Theodore Munsel, of Park- <
j ville."
"You know Mr. Theodore Munsel, of Park
-1 ville, then'?"
j "Yes, indeed."
"What sort of a man is he ?"
i "A very rough customer."
"How do you rough ?"
"He's been tried for his life twice, but man
aged to escape."
"You say he lives at Park ville?"
"No. that's his post town; but he lives in the
woods five miles from the village."
"How can I get there ?"
■ "You had better drive to Parkvillo, which is
twelve miles ofl, and then inquire your way —
his house is rather hard io find."
The next day I got f. horse and buggy and
drove to Parkville; the horse, however, fell
' dead lame just as I entered the village, and
, could proceed no further. I drove up to the
tavern, and determined to proceed the rest of
the way on foot. After making particular in
! quiries as to my road, I set off on my five miles
' walk. I did not suppose that I was known to j
Munsel, and my intention was to verify his ac
tual presence, and then return the next day
with' the proper officers to arrest him.
j It was a beautiful July evening, just cool c
nough to render walking a pleasant exercise.
It was dark when I started, and I had not
walked a mile before it became quite dark.
But I had informed myself so well as to the
right road, that I thought I could not mistake it.
It soon, however, became apparent to me that
j a great change had taken place in the scenery
I around rae. Instead of the road being clear
: and open, as it was when I first set out, large
i trees loomed up on each side of me, and the
. j road became very bad—entirely different from
; ! the smooth,-gravelled surface I had first passed
i ! over. —But I still pressed on, not even suspect
j ing that I had mistaken my way. I now began
to get tired. I must have walked at least two
hours before any doubt entered my bead.
By this time the broad road had degenerated
into a narrow path. I knew, then, that there
must be something wrong, for the people of the
town, of whom I had inquired, hud informed
me that the road to Mr. Theodore Munsel's
house w;t- pretty good all the way. I paused
for a moment irresolute, and did not know
whether to retrace my steps or press forward.
It had now become pitch dark, and 1 determined
to go on, well assured that I could not fir.d my
my way buck. I had not proceeded many steps
before I became convinced that 1 -was wander
ing about in a forest. The underbrush began
now to seriously impede my progress, and I
Found great difficulty in keeping on my feet.
My position was anything but agreoable —in
the midst of a forest on a dark night. I can
not tell how I passed the three ensuing hours —
they appeared three centuries to me. I suppose
I iuu.it have walked the same path over and
over again. T was at last completely overcome
by phy Lai fatigue, and sank exhausted on the
stump of a tree.
I rested my head upon my hands, and deter v
mined to pass the night there,-being now cer
tain that it was perfectly futile endeavoring to
find my way till morning. While in this Stooping
position, 1 thought I saw a light glimmer through
the trees. 1 looked earnestly, and became con
vinced that such was really the fact. I im
mediately determined to make for it, hoping to
find shelter for the night. I advanced in that
direction, and soon reached a dilapidated house
built entirely of wood, it was a miserable look
ing abode, and had it not been for ray tired
condition, I should have hesitated in seeking its
shelter. But anything was better than spend
ing the night in the forest, so I resolutely knock
ed at the door. My summons was for some
time unheeded, and it was not till I had knock
ed again and again, that the door opened and a
gruff voice asked what I wanted.
"Can vou give tue lodging for the night?"
I replied.
} was told to come in, and found myself in a
rudni of ni9d erato size, miserably furnished.
A log tire was u" rn ' n o on l ' ,e hearth, and two
persons occupied the apartment. Hie one that
opened the door io me was man about fifty
years of age, very stoutly built, and possessed
of a very sinister expression of countenance.
The second occupant was none other lhan the ;
absconding clerk. I then knew that I was it) '
Mr. Munsel's house, and I congratulated my
self cn my good fortune. I noticed that as I ■
entered he cast a scrutinizing glance at me, but '
as I felt assured he did not know me personally, j
I experienced no alarm.
"I have lost ray way in the forest," said I,
in answer to their looks of interrogation, "and
if you will afford me shelter for the night, I
shall be happy to repay you for your hospitali
ty-"
"Be good enough to sit down," said Theo
dore Munsel; his eyes sparkling when the word
"repay" was used.
"Where are you going ?" asked his nephew,
and then fixing another searching look on my
face.
"I am going to Centreville. I left Parkville
at six o'clock, but I suppose I mistook the road,
for I have been wandering about the woods ev
er since."
"You are fifteen miles from Centreville,"
said the uncle with a kind of leer.
"You do not belong to tins part of the coun
try ?" said the banker's clerk.
"No," I replied, "I am from the State of
Virginia."
"What is your business?"
"I am collector for a houaein Richmond."
"I should have taken you for a Yankee,"
said the young man.
"No, indeed," I replied, with an attempt to
The uncle and nephew now left the room,
and I could hear them whispering together in
the next apartment. Still I did not feel any
uneasiness, for I relied on the fact that I was
unknown to the absconding clerk.— l iiey soon
returned to the apartment where I sat.
"We have only one room in the house," said
the uncle as he entered ; "if you will not mind
sleeping with a son of mine, you can liave a
part of his bed "
I, of course, immediately consented, glad
enough to find any place where I could rest
my weary limbs.
After a pause of a few minutes I pulled out
my watch, and said I should like to go to bed.
f noticed at the time significant looks pass be
tween the uncle and nephew when they saw
my watch. It was a line one—a real Cooper
—and had been presented to me by an impor
ter of watches for services which 1 had ren
dered.
"You will find ray son next to tho wall,"
said the uncle. "You will have the goodness
not to awaken him, for he lias been sick lately,
and lias to get up early."
I replied that I would certainly avoid wak
ing him. The uncle took up a candle, and
•
showed rue to a room up stairs; it was the on
ly habitable sleeping room in the bouse, and was
situated over that in which we had been seated.
Cautioning me to put out the light as soon as I
was in bed, he left me.
1 found myself in a room the exact counter
part of the one below excepting that this one
contained a bedstead. Snoring ou the bed next
to the wall was a man some years younger than
myself. I cautiously brought the light to bear
on his foeo. The first thing that struck me
was, that the man below had deceived me when
iic had told me his son was sick. lie was un
dressed, and wore on his head a night cap.—
A vague sensation of uneasiness crept over
me. I regretted having entered the house, and
looked round the room for means of exit.—
There was only one door in the room, that by
which I had entered. Opposite to the door
1 was a window. I walked up to it, and endeav
ored to peer through the outside darkness, hut
could distinguish nothing. I tried to reason a-
WHOLE NUIffBER, SJO9
way my forebodings, and succeeded in doing so
to some extent.
I began to prepare for bed, and had already
taken off my coat and waistcoat, when I fan*
i cied I heard a step on the stairs. I immediate
ly extinguished the light, and waited with hroath
: less anxiety ; the door gently opened, and the
■ uncle cautiously thrust forward his head. In
| the gloom of the chamber he could not perceive
; me; and finding the light extinguished, I
I suppose he thought f was in bed, for lie clos
ed the door very softly and descended the stairs
again.
I was now worked up to the highest pitch of
! excitement, L felt certain that something was
going to happen. I remembered my loneiy situ
ation —the inquisitive questions of the men be
low. There was no possible means for me to
escape, except going through the room in which
they were seated—and such a course I knew
would be perfect madness. 1 summoned up all
my philosophy, and determined to wait the de
nouement, and tried to persuade myself my
fears were groundless. Hut when 1 thought of
the significant looks that passed between the
men when they saw my gold, I must confess
the effort was a failure. And then the thought j
suddenly struck me, if, afier all, the clerk had .
recognized me, it was certain that he would j
never let me leave tiiat place alive, hive long j
minutes passed away, and I heard nothing. A: i
that moment a light flashed before my window, j
I went directly to it, and saw the uncle with a j
lantern digging in the garden. I watched him
with eager eyes, he was digging a hole about j
six feet long and three broad.
"Good God!" T exclaimed to myself, "he is !
digging my grave."
I now felt certain that the young man had ,
been left in the room below to prevent my es- j
cape. But I determined to satisfy myself if'
such were the fact or not. I opened the door '
noiselessly, and stole cautiously down stairs in !
my stocking feet. I glanced through the key- j
hole of the door which opened into the room, I
and saw that my suspicions were well founded, j
for the absconding clerk sat beside a table with
a revolver all ready cocked within iiis reach. I
returned to the bedroom again.
I a<rain took my position at the window.—
Five minutes more of agonizing suspense ensued.
I had nothing with which to defend myself, and
was completely at their mercy. Asu lden calm
ness now took possession of me. I suppose it
was the calmness of despair, but with ail my
faculties were perfectly clear, and I turned over
a hundred plans to escape the doom that await
ed me. All this time 1 was eagerly watching
the actions of the unelc.
The soil was very light, and he soon succeed
ed in opening the hole to at least four feet. He
then threw down his spade and entered the house
again. I expected every moment to hear them
ascending the stairs, and made up my mind to
sell my life as dear as possible, when a purring
sound attracted my attention.
I now perceived for the first time that the
light from the room below penetrated through
several chinks in the floor. I lay down on the
ground, and looking through one of tlnteracts,
found that I could perceive everything in the
apartment. One of the men was sharpening a
large knife on a grindstone, and it was this that
made the purring sound that I had heard. He
felt the edge, and finding it sharp enough, dis
continued liis employment. f'hey then be
gan to converse, I could hear every word they
said.
"Are you certain, Charles, that this is the
detective ?" said the uncle.
"Perfectly certain!" returned the clerk. "I
know Brampton as well as I do you."
"It is certain he must die then. I suppose
he has plenty of money with him beside liis gold
watch."
"Yes, he must be well provided with funds,
and his business hero is evidently to arrest
me."
"Come, then, let us finish tho business at
once," said the uncle.
"Do you think hois asleep yet?" returned
the clerk.
"No Matter if he is not, he'll sleep well e
nough afterwards anyhow."
The clerk laughed—hideously I thought.
"Will you do it, or shall I ?" said the neph
ew.
"O, you may go, but be suro you make no
mistake. Bill, you know, lies next to the wall,
lie has a nightcap on, the detective has none.
Leave the light outside the door, for fear of
waking Brampton ; and above all, be quick a
bout it."
In a moment my plan was formed. Bill was
fast asleep. I gently turned him over to the
outside of the bed, and pulling off liis nightcap,
put it on my own head. I accomplished this
without waking Bill. I then cautiously laid
myself in his place near the wall. The agony
of the next few minutes was intense —my heart
seemed ready to cease beating. I heard a step
on the stairs; it advanced, the door opened soft
ly, the floor creaked with the weight of a heavy
tread. The murderer approached the bed. —
I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. 1 had
presence of mind enough to imitate a snore. I
felt his hand passing over my head—it rested
on my shoulder. O, agony of agonies, he had
found out my ruse, and was about to kill me !
My whole body was bathed in a cold perspi
ration.
Suddenly I heard a heavy thud on the bed,
which was followed by a groan, and then all
was still. The blow had been struck, and I
was not the victim. A pause of some moments
ensued, and then I heard the uncle ascending
the stairs. They wrapped the body of .the uu
fortunate Bill in a sheet, and conveyed it at
once into the garden. They had no sooner left
the house than 1 leaped out of bed, anu ran to
the window. They had evidently not discover
ed their mistake, for the body was already in
the grave prepared for it, and they were filling
it up.
I lost not a moment to put on the rest of my
' clothes, and creeping quietly down stairs, cs-
Hates of
One square, one insertion, $1 00
One square, three insertions, l
One square, each additional insertion 50
3 months. 0 months. 1 year.
One square, $4 50 $6 00 $lO 00
Two squares, C 00 9 00 10 00
Three squares, 8 00 12 00 20 00
Half column, 18 00 25 00 40 00
One column, 30 00 45 00 80 00
Administrators and Kxecutors' notices, $3 00.
Auditor's notices, if under 10lines, ?2 50. Sheritl'a
sales, $1 75 per tract. Table work, double the
above rates; figure work 25 per cent, additional.
Estrays,Cautionsai]d Noticpg toTiespassers, $2 00
for three insertions, if not above 10 lines, fvlar
liage notices, 50 cents each, payable in advance.
Obituaries over live lujes in length, and Resolutions
of Beneficial Associations, at half ad vei tiskig rates,
payable in advance. Announcements of deatha,
gratis. Notices in editorial columns, 15 cents per
line. Ds*No deductions to advertisers of Patent
Medicines, or Advertising Agents.
VOL. 3, NO. 41
cape J through tiie front door. I ran as foot as
I possibly could, and by chance took the right
road. In less than an hour I was at Parkvilie.
I roused the whole village, .and in a few hur
ried words told my story. • A large party of
men immediately sot off for the scene of the
tragedy accompanied by myself.
When we entered the house we found the
front room still occupied by the uncle and neph
ew. When they saw me they turned deadly
pale, and I really believe they thought I had
risen from the grave, for they had not yet dis
covered lhat they had sacrificed Theodore Mun
sel's son. When they saw ihat I was really a
live, they assumed an air cf bravado, suppos
ing that I had come to arrest the clerk for the
bank robbery. Their dream, however, was soon
dissipated, for in a few moments the body of the
■ iordered man was exhumed, and they were con
fronted with their bloodv work.
It was shocking to see the uncle's agony when
he discovered that his son had been murdered.
Neither of the criminal? attempted any defence.
Three months afterwards they were tried, con
victed and executed.
GIVING THE RADICALS A WIDE
BERTH.
The special despatch to the Philadelphia
Lecbjct\ a paper which has given the present
administration its entire and hearty support,
we regard as most significant:
WASHINGTON, May 2.— : TLiere are certain
indications which go to show that President
Johnson, like the lamented Lincoln in his lat
ter days, is givimj the extreme Radicals a wide
berth, and I hazard nothing in saying that the
proclamation offering the South to trade will
ie soon followed by evidences still more con
clusive of the desire of the President to heal
the breach as quietly and pleasantly as possible,
and unite the two sections again in "one har
monious whole."
lou will note that his proclamation reviving
trade is not addressed alone to the loyal people
of the South, but includes the "well disposed"
in its priviiiges, and that, too, without compell
ing them to take the much abused and often
broken oath of allegiance. The South, in so
far as trade is concerned, could ask no more
than this, for the door of commerce is open as
wholly and as freely to all the people as if such
a thing as war had not been known. Whether
they will avail themselves of the offer remains to
be seen, but they must bo rebellious, indeed, if
they allow so handsome a privilege to remain a
dead letter with them.
I understand, upon authority which I cannot
doubt, that terms equally generous to those of
fered fo and accepted by Lee and Johnston, will
be shortly offered the whole Southern people—
a few of their leaders in the rebellion alone ex
cepted. In other words there will be a general
amnesty tendered, and a disposition evinced to
makethc situation for our "wayward sisters"
as pleasant as possible.
The radical element have got aa inkling of
the policy of the President, and declare that
it- adoption will end in the retention of slavery
at the South, thus defeating, as they believe,
tiie great object for which the war, during the
past four years, has been fought, and leaving
the old ''bono of contention," 1 still to be at
tacked and gnawed around by the opposing fac
tions.
But let those beware who attempt to oppose
the policy of President Johnson. Mr. Lincoln
has been credited with firmness, but in his suc
cessor's little linger there will be more of the
Jacksonian firmness than there was in Mr. Lin
coln's whole hand.
Let Andrew Johnson but show himself tho
man to pursue such a line of policy as is indi
cated in the above despatch, and he will receive
the support of the entire Democratic party
from the moment he indicates that to be his in
tention. Surely with that, in addition to the
support of all the conservative men of his own
party, he would feel fully strong enough to face
the impracticable radicals of New England.—
Under such a policy each of the Southern States
could be brought back to the Union most speed
ily, and with the least possible injury to its ma
terial resouices. All the best interests of the
nation imperatively demand that President John
son should give ike extreme radicals ct very icide
berth.
tfjrA railway is to be built in Palestine. It
will connect Jaffa with Jerusalem, will be about
forty miles long, and, with a harbor at Jaffa,
will cost half a million pounds sterling.
er' I suppose," said the quack, "you think
me a fool." "Yes," said the patient, but I
did not think you could ascertain my thoughts
by feeling my pulse."
e:rA wag seeing a lady at a party with a
very low-necked dress and bare arra3 expressed
his admiration by saying that she out-stripped
tho whole party.
shall be at home next Sunday,' a lady re
marked, as she followed to tho door her bean,
who seemed to be wavering in his attachment.
"So shall L" was the reply.
(SrThere is nothing that so awakens the di
vinity within us as lofty music. In the laby
rinths of the ear, as in those of Egypt, gods lie
buried.
e:rlt is not a single sudder. blow that crushes
permanently, but the long endurance of heavy
burdens, or an accumulation of smaller ones.
CS-The official statistics of the War Depart
ment shows that upwards of 04,000 Union
prisoners have died in rebel prisons.
fjpDid the man who ploughed the sea and •
afterwards planted his feet upon his native soil,
ever harvest the crops ?
j will sooner pardon want of sense
than want of manners.