jB cwz.W tu -'-a ;• ■/7 ' S i»-| ilLtfrory, •*. wsi‘ /.tifiS tjf ■•’"■“ I , , -.‘- U SfcfcES, :. .i-vcry {• •it -UXC Oifl ■, .::••• .-irf, a. j>or- - ;. ;L -■t Con«ußip>.‘ bo A l' li- sc-arca* \ Into Ut«- \ i to cure tbs s •!«. with ; L..il’or In la .agje&atb . ctitailod ;-i' fcP -I.tailing B}>* tiguiujibein i i health, t ; ■k-Jirt txnly , vnuri of.tflt* ,/• •- failMt coTij r'.'i with tb» :. '■O rwiurwi- Paten* Mail* • \ i, - jit tilß Cpf'- \. unwary *uf- Jccd by ib« , > .> c„ir«:fujlyf :.v* amt iBHI ' •uaU>, which;’ i, mi 'a deiHl-; iJLihUty Jht»' put i ■. Uo nut (til- / iit-.v, wnl pro , I ;■! fam»k4 •;« ol’prac .msi'Juiila, . t.t pfirfi»|\ t- M. D, HH!.- , I . irmfiif I ’t7r- *pr s.t> (/!«% •rti.-lbia ■’ --aa.'V.lj ,-■ ■ .. b j-pua-' i ■,U their >.. y ' / .:s |«»vrn^ 'f. It is . V ■ ; -i' jjann, ” >• ru;it*rv»*, ; , - :■>, !mf»> i \ I'arir.gilm - Rml.leat i ! Tivi.Uh” i ruf6«pgl|» '■-•■■u-n .t'y : • >;t ih* <»h* ’■-JVr.g from > • -' run-ttlß t. :ib*'!a ' i .* lid -. wbteh It !. 1i.1,1 Sis, ... S AND 'Wt medlqiq* :i la th» r resiioTlpg irbaaWc-n ' : wiUemw -hctimii . vMtantfp. - j-dinj: >5. Jttum • ey,;.inui.. £ -iii-ix. ; . OF MSi i ■! Nenfcus. r ~‘ M.f, tnirtslngr, ■nth, JB»T : _■ ; . ,|llld.W*h . :. tally ex ; <1 to ciii» s. awwfcy u «w V r,Asrr, T£E.— ... i:rnn]« U in t i mghoat 1 r. criminal I p.Uivrwi'V ■ in ac; . : ci i... ! tie. •: ■ ray. PRO. . THOSE ■ '.‘.t hßtC* ( '‘l- Sfijn r , ••*»; r\f r>ur r-^J-KK. >il EX- I'® 1 '® AST?. ->W ii I . a I&CIjtUM '& ALLISON, VOL. 8. - TtiE ALTOONA TRIBUNE. tfoCRUU A ALLISON, Pablidicn And Proprietors. Per annum, fowyaiile Invariably in advanc*,) * |i,&o All papers discontinued at the expiration tjf the time (aid for. tuns -or anvowinso. 1 Insertion 2 do. 3 do. Uaea or lea, $25 $37 U $6O On* square, (8 lines,} , 60 76 VOO two “ (18 •< ) 100 150 200 .Three “ (24 “ \ 160 200 260 Over three wash* and less than three months, 26cents per ■qnsro lnsertion. Six lines or ieee, One equate, Two Three “ Tour a Half a column, Ohs column, 14 00 Administrators and Executors Notleea, Merchants advertising by the year, three squares, with liberty to change, Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding 8 lines, with paper, per year, CotomunicatioUß of a political character or individual in terest will be charged according to the above rates. 1 Advertisements not marked with the number of insertions desired, trill bo continued till forbid and charged according to'the above terms. Business notices fire cents per lino for every insertion. Obituary notices exceeding ten lines, fifty cents a square. ■ PROSPECTUS ALTOONA TRIBUNE. \ THE CASH SYSTEM ADOPTED! |The Cheapest Paper in the County! With the present number, the 7Hi«««has en tered upon it,s third volume. Commenced at a time when the confidence of the citizens of Al : ioonii in newspapers and newspaper publishers , wus'considerably shaken, if not totally annihila ted, it has slowly but , surely restored that con fidents, and now stands upon a surofoundatibn, and is universally acknowledged to. be one of the fixed institutions of our town. But this re sult has not been achieved without a hard strug gle, and considerable expenditure of time and means on the part of its ; editors. The steady, increase of patronage, how'cvc-r, afforded in dubitable evidence tbittheir labors ln\vc been ap elated. In entering upon tie hew volume it is almost i unnecessary to sjiy that the Tribune will contin ue |0 bo “IxUKPK.SUKNI IN FVEBYTIHSG,” bo ing biassed neither by fear, favor nor’affection, in favor of parties or sects. In this respect it is only accessary to say that the past affords a ‘.fair index as to our future course. It has always been our aim to make the Tri bune, a reliable first-class Local Paper, as we believe that'in that character alone, country pa pers con successfully compete with their flashy city' neighbors. To this end wc have secured correspondents in various parts of the county, who furnish us with all the items of local niter- i eat in their vicinity. We purpose adding others | to our list as soon as we cau obtain them. l)u- j ring the next year we shall redouble bur efforts ] to make the Tribune a perfect compendium of j Dome News—a reliable, fikst-class Local j I'apep., second to none in the country, aud as j ■ such.a welcome weekly visitor to our patrons, whether at home or abroad. But while the Local Department shall to our special care, wc shall also devote a considera ble space to Literary Matter, Pcs asd Ilu num, and the chronicling of events of general interest to our readers. We pub- ! llshing from time to time “ Original Sketches of i Men and Things ” which will be furnished by our contributors. We have made arrangements also to have a weekly letter from Philadelphia, iuxd judging from the reputatiop oar oorrespon -dent sustains as a popular writer, these letters will be'a rich trout to our readers. As we are decidedly journalists pf the pro gressive school, we have concluded to adopt the .cash system in our business. Tlie neglect of quite a number of our patrons to pay up prompt- and the rascality of others, has compelled , tib to adept this course. Time and experience ; haS fully proved to our satisfaction that the credit system will not work with newspaper publishers! From ibis date no paper will be sent from this office, unless paid for in advance, ABjf it tllP expiration .of tbp .time paid for, If Aot rcnewpd, will be promptly stopped. > This 'aningejnent does no iiqusticc to our patrons, ■while it. Will protect as from the impositions of soulless; scoundrels, and enable us to devote tn Before me on the floor, There lies a worn-out fount of type. Full twenty thousand score; And many months have passed, George, Since they were bright nnd new. And tnany are the tales they’ve told— The false, the strange, the true. 1 year. $5 00 7 00 10 00 12 00 14 00 20 00 40 00 1 76 10 00 Their beauty has all gone, George, You scarcely now may trace, Gpon the snowy medium, The likeness of their face; They ’mind me of a man, George, Whose morn of life, arose ’Mid hopes and golden promises That faded ere its close. 6 00 What tales of horror they have told, \ Of tempest and of wreck— ; Of murder at the midnight hoar, Of war, full many a x “ speck”— Of ships, that far away at sea, Went down before the blast— Of stifled cries of agony, As life's last moment passed— Of earthquakes and of suicides— Of failing crops of cotton— Of bank defaulters—broken banks, And banking systems rotten— Of boilers bursting—steamboats snagged— Of riots, duels fought— Of robbers with their prey escaped— Of thieves'with booty cuught— ' • Of land-slides and of water-spouts Of ants, and alligators— Of serpents in the briny deep— j Of giant sweet potiturs— Of children lost, and children focal—• ; Finances in disorder— pf fights ’mong firemen at home, Of troubles on the border. 'They’ve told us of a nation, George, Bent sorrowing o’er the dust Of one whom she hud called to fill Her highest, dearest trust- - Of sparkling crowns for youthful brows— Of regal coronations — Of plans to rid tiie earth of kings.— Of tcmp’rauce reformations— ,0f flood, and fire, and accident, Thyse worn-out types have told ; And how the pestilence hath swept j the youthful and the old— ’Of marriages, and girths and deaths— Of tljipgs to please or vex us— Of .some who cut life’s brittle thread, And some who “cut” for Texas. They've told how long sweet summer days Have faded from our view ; r llow autumn's chilling wind hath swept The leaf crowned forest through; How winter's reign hath come and gone— Dark reign of storm and strife— And.how the smiling spring hath warm’d The pale flowcrs back t» life. I can't pretend to mention half My inky friends-have told, |Sincc, shining, bright and beautiful, They issued from the mould— How unto some they joy have brought, To others grief and tears; Yet faithfully they record kept Of fast receding years. i Hdfd Htorj|. TIIE WHITE CJMOST 91ARGEBV. WRITTEN EXPRESSEY FOR THE “ TIMES.” ' r \ . !' B;r the author of “Here nnd There,” “The Founding of thi Circus,” &c., &c. year, from childhood up, in the Spring and in the Autumn, I have been in the habit of visiting at my Uncle Mer rill’s. Perhaps I should not have said “habit”—but we will let it pass ;if it was i habitual with me to go, it was just ashab -1 itual with them! to meet me when the , old stage stopped at thei farm-gate, and the dri ver unstrapped the boot to take down my great trunk. I -always felt better after visiting there; and!l know too, that the joyousness and vivacity of my nature, im parted] much of hope and strength to thoif’s —to the natures of] my white-haired un cle and his wife. \( ’ I was on .a visit-there one Autumn: the trees were arrayed. jin, russet, the brown nuts were pattering on the fallen leayes, and the wind Wept through the glade&at night with thp heavier Jnohotonjps. of win ter. I was seated on a mossy knoU, sketch ing the ojid stone foil! some distancebelow P#* J hod Qutdincd it, and wasjaa'tWQrk ihg jn Jhe heavier shadiag T when d-. was bysome ode hrumiing amiuaf mp. .1 .wi&out’giettihg urn how BY EGBERT .DTBALL. N ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 11, 1858. ' ties.” She was attired in a plain, white dress. Her hair was black and luxuriant, falling hi negligent masses around her neck and shoulders, contrasting strangely with her face, which was very pale—no, very white. When I looked into her face I thought her positively beautiful; there was something so soft, so trustingVso subdu ed in the delicate limnings; but when she set her eyes full upon mine, I tyalf stalled back in affright. I There was a maniacal gleam in those eyes; true, a ipassive gleam—but their depth, shaded as they were by long, heavy lashes, assured ;hie that they were at times lit up with a that would make the very blood in my veins to tingle. ‘ You are not afraid of me ?’ she asked, with a low laugh. ‘ Why shouiS I bo afraid of you ?” I re torted, for I had recovered myself, and was gazing fixedly jupon her.—“ You are but a woman like myself. Come, sit down be side me.’ ‘ No—l am no woman ;lam a ghost I Don’t they call me ‘the White-ghost Mar gery?’ And don’t the children run away from me in affright ? Yes, they do ; all except om —little Maud. She is just like me, though —a very gypsy. Perhaps I am disturbing; you V she added, seating herself, however, very demurely beside me. ‘No you ate not, Margery; you arc quite welcome; .We must become better acquainted, Margery.’ Scarcely had I uttered those words ere the maniacal fire seemed to fiood her veins. She rose quickly to her feet gazed as quickly around, and then, with her eyes streaming fire and her hinds working half menacing ly, she asked, somewhat coarsely, ‘ Who spoki ?’ ‘We are uidne, Margery ; it was I who spoke,’ I replied, feeling quite uneasy, 1 do confess. j She gazed ifi; me a minute longer—and the old quiet, ihalf vacant look came back into her eyes. | ‘ I did'nt frighten you," did I ? I have such queer ways ! Pot jou mustn’t mind Your words, and the tone Of your voice took me! back into the beautiful long ago I I thought it was Ralph who spoke. Nobody ever laid ‘Margery’ so sweet as he before. Put; don’t mind me. 1 ain’t riahrl Poor i White-ghost Margery I The tears Were streaming down her cheeks and she sat down again and buried her face in bar hands. Her words had made ruy heart beat fast and thick ; to me there was more than a common meaning in them. I had a brother Ralph —my voice was very much like his ; what had Ralph to do with the While ghost Margery? A d«-ep. undefined dread came creeping up into my heart. ‘ What, Ralph do you speak of, Mar gery ?’ I asked. ‘I don’t wjint to go back into the long ago. T don't want to be communicative. You aint communicative; you hav’nt even told me your name. • I heg your pardon then, Margery. I will tell you now. My name i.* Blanche.’ So ! —I like that name; I like you, too, Blanche,’ —and she looked up trust ingly into in j'face. ■Do you then we will be fast friends. I am verv triad von said that Margery. But won't you tell mo what Ralph you spoke of?’ i ‘Oyos —l can draw' quite well!’—she said, taking iny sketch from my hands. I gave her a searching look, but I could not tell whether her reply was the cunning evasion of the maniac, or simply expres sive of the vficancy and unfixedness of her mind. 4 Will you give roe the pencil ?’ 4 Certainly ; you may finish the picture, too.’ x f She took the pencil with a graceful in clination of her head, and commenced up on the picture. An artist's soul then gleamed from her dark eyes, and every touch seemed like the touch of ecstatic genius. I almost clapped my hands with delight as my vague, undefined lines rap idly began to break out into beauty and vigor She paused at length, and looked long and silently upon the drawing. I bent down my head that I could see up into her eyes. Tiiey were cold, radiautless, glassy. ' ■ 1 ‘ Margery,! I said, in a low, soft tone, ‘ you draw beautifully.’ She started, and looked at me ; and I was almost fiUcinated as I watched the warm, beautiful light again bedewing her eyes. She turned the picture, and writing some verses ph the back, replaced it on my hip. ‘ Blancho-4—if you sometime meet Ralph —give him that But why do Lsay thiff? Won’t he meet me in the dell when the twilight thickens? To be sure he .will ! Ralph is notuihg to you.’ Then tossing her ringlets with a grace ful air, of indifference, and with a laugh upon her which was really joy ous and natuiftl, iih'e [passed away, noiselessly as she had-come, ftpd- very like a white ghost! J pat there long after. Varied emotions were teuohcjl: in my soul; earnest < i sympa-' igsfefigat m MM thm .njgiwpciwto mywqnL-< [independent in everything.] The following were the verses that she had written—and I was as certain they were impromptu as I was that the woof of this beautiful maniac’s life was to be woven yet closer with the future of my own ; I met Margery often afterward, but nothing of her past history, touching that which I was most curious upon, could I learn from her or others. Maniac as she was, there was something attractive and agreeable in her society. I was gradually gaining an influence over her, and could, to some extent, control her fits of lunacy. All I could learn of my aunt was that she bad come to that neighborhood and ta ken charge of a school. She was sad ayd moody, quite sedentary in her habits, and all could see that there was some dark, sickeuing, life-sapping secret iu her soul. Before the close of her engagement she had become'deranged, and was living upon the charity of the peopjc. She was per fectly harmless, and found a home of wel come every where. Sometimes she would stay at my aunt’s (that was before I came,) for weeks, and sew, and attend to the house hold duties —neither speaking nor seeming to take any interest in anything whatever —even performing her labors mechanical ly ‘ ‘ ‘ “If thou could’st know what’t la to nnila, To smile, whilst scorn'd l>y every one, To hide by many an urtful wile, A heart that knows more grief than guile, Thou would’st not do as I have done. At»d oh! if thou could’sc think how drear ityhen friends are chang'd and health Is gone, The world would to thine eyes appear; If'thou. like me, to none wort dear, Thou would’st not do os I have done.” In her lucid intervals she was witty and vivacious; but in neither state could be owriued from her the saddening secret within her breast. The rain poured down in torrents ; it beat fust and thick again.-1 the casement ; it ran riot through the spouting ; it rushed in under the door; it flooded the yard, the quick flashes of lightning revealing where i the water lay in broad, shallow puddles, or | where it swept like a miniature river along 1 the narrow walls, and all the time a heavy, i dreary, Incessautrain —blind'.ngiu its veloc- ' ity, dronchingin its abundance, and sound- j ing everywhere as load as it did under the ; dripping eaves, ’I here was no thunder, | save ever and anon a distant and prolong- ; ed roar; it was the play of the elements | without their master spirit —an orchestra, j without its depp-toned, bass aeompaniment. | Hero a young peach tree groaned under I the heavy trolljs-work that had fallen upon j it ; there a gate swung to and fro on one j hinge, and all around the house the shut- i ter* kept banging at irregular intervals. On such aa eve there was a short, rapid j knock at the hall door. 1 took the light i and went to answer the call. M hen I open- j ed the dour—a figure entered, dripping : vvi-bh rpin, and with the. dark hair stream- ; ing arbund her shoulders. - It was the White-ghost Margery! ‘ Shelter from the rain—the drenching, surging, boating, blinding rain ! she cried. ) 1 You shall have it, Margery ; you have I found a friend here,’ T answered. | ‘ Found a friend? ha, ha. ha.l Don’t j mock mo when my feet are dangling over j the edge of my own open grave ! Who ! ; calls me Margery? I aint the White ghost i i Margery any more. lam rhjht non: 1’ j | ’ ‘ I am not mocking you, Margery, I he- | j lievc that you are right again. Sit down j i by the fire till I comei’ • She sat down by the bright hearth, j while I ran up to my room to get a change of clothing for her. ‘ Margery, you are wringing wet; allow me to assist you to change.’ She arose willingly, but was yet quite weak. When we had finished she eat down again, and folded her hands in her lap. There was a warm glow upon her cheek and her eyes, though melancholy, did not wear the maniacal fire of yore. ‘ Margery —do you not remember Blanche ?’.I asked. ‘ Blanche, Blanche?’ and she passed her hand dreamily over her forehead. * No, I don't remember, and yet it seems to me I do. That is a contradiction, aint it? But | lady, can you remember the names and I faces you have heard and seen in your dreams ? I have been dreaming —onelong, wild, weird-like, 1 aching dream ! But I am awake now 1 I aint crazy any more ! Blanche, did you say? I might have known you once. I ani sc tired; how in viting that sofa looks ? Will you let me lie down, Blanche?'Do, please do; then rub your hand over my burning foreheads I led her to the sofa. Soon I was sooth ingly passing my hand, as she had bid me, over her forehead—-her high white forehead, with its delicately traced veins of blue; and soon she sank into a sweet, re freshing sleep. . , Superbly beautiful she looked, as she rested there. My eye detected theJoop of a hue gold chain and I pulled it oiit; she did pot awaken. Sure enough it was: a locket I touched the spring—-I gazed up on the mixuature. It was that of my brother Ralph ! ■ The discovery ran through me like an electro shock’. * THOh I wWdotenninod to 3 ■' face of Margery—Margery the beautiful! Soon piy feet were tripping up the stair way. ‘ Ralph !’ I said, opening the door ofthe study— 1 Ralph; come down stairs a min ute.’ ‘What is the matter now, sis? Has tab by-cat been eating the starch? Well—l guess I must come; it was not in the tone of a request —it was positively a command.’ Ralph shut the book he was reading, and turned round to me with one of his sweet, jovial smiles. x ‘ Why—how white you are, Blanche 1 Your lips arc purple, too, and ybu seem to press them inward, as if to hide their tremor I Gracious God, Blanche ! Whatiswrong.’ ‘ Come and see, Ralph. My Heart may break to-night! 0, I almost wish that I were dead! * Blanche—you will drive me mad!— What means this ? Shut your eyes—turn them to the floor —to the ceilingr—only so you don’t look at me so reproachfully!’ lie seized my arm with a force that made me cry out with pain. He was very much excited, and hurried me along so fast that my feet hardly touched the steps. When we reached the sitting room 1 took the lead. We stopped before the sofa. ‘ Ralph,’ I asked, ‘ who is this ? His face assumed an ashy hue ;his arms fell listlessly to his side. ‘ O Blanche 1’ he murmured. He leaned his head upon one arm, against the mantel. ■’* '' , ‘ Ralph !’ I cried, sternly, yetburriedly withal, ‘ answer me, who is this? Good Heavens 1 Have you kept locked up for months in your soul, some dark secret; locked away from me, your sister, your best beloved, as you have so often called me ! Oh 1 this is bitter!' He turned round to me; a sorrowful smile wreathed his lips. It was his' eyes that were expressive now of reproach. His feature- were still pale, but settled. -Blanch, sister Blanch, I will answer !’ Then he knelt down at the sofa, by the side of Margery. He took her soft white hand in his, and kissing her lips passion ately, said. ‘ Margery, my beloved, my tci/e ! look f» * up 1 iShe awoke ; she seemed bewildered for a moment. Then recognizing him, she threw her arms wildly about him; she suf fused his bronzed face with kisses; she cried aloud. 1 (Jed be praised! Mercy is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof! O that sweet endearing name of ici/c ! My ears did not belie me then ! Oh, Ralph, my worship ped one ! will you take me back into your heart again ?■’ " . ‘ You have always been in my heart, Margery,’ and Ralph wept like a very child. And the White-ghost Margery was my brother Ralph’s wife 1 Who was more be wildered than I? The mystery is soon told. Ralph had met Margaret Arnold while stopping for some months at Norfolk, Va. He was cap tivated with her society ; he became devo tedly attached to her; they were married, and Ralph intended to bring her to his house near Litiz, as a ‘ surprise.’ He was wealthy, of excellent extraction, refined and intelligent, and the very soul Of integ rity. I have "found her all a jealous sis ter’s heart could wish! On the evening before his departure for home, when coming up the verandah, he found her in the arms of a tall, handsome stranger. She was leaning on bis shoul der, weeping bitterly, while he passed bis hand soothingly through her long, soft curls. ‘ Miss Arnold, Margaret, you do love me. Your love seeks no disguise; lei your heart speak for me.’ ‘ If I did, or do love you, Mr. Bell, it is too late now. lam married;!’ Ralph could hear no more;: he rushed forward and pushed his wife rudely against the railing, The stranger interfered, and Ralph felled him to the floor., ’ ‘ Strumpet I’ he hissed through his clenched teeth. ‘ Ralph, stop! wait! let ine explain !’ cried his wife in terror and 1 ‘ Your conduct needs noexphmation, we part to-night forever !' Ralph turned upon his heel and they never met'lor eighteen long months. Like cold, icy hakesof Show Ralph's words must have fallen on her warm, gushipg heart. .. lieqogld speak *9. coldly if he wished j and therp;was;npneed of sarbasm in his Words when h>S ‘eyes spoke! They neither exchanged letters, normet, as I have said, for, months—and that was ou» that rainy .night, by the sofa. Mr. Bcll was an admirer of Miss. Ar-. nold’s. He had saved her frijitn a watery grave at a steamboat explo3io.n»oh the Mis sissippi" She vl as grateful id her preser ver, but nothing more. Ho oottld not touch; her inmost soul ; so thnliingly; as Ralph could. Mr. Bdll met her on that evening, and-, 1 believing! her single, ivas. siinpljr pressing his claims. She wps to repulse him, vances such as tb noedit. T Have t methfr. EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS * her dark eyes stamped her wordswiththe sacredness of truth. Ralp£ himself bitterly for his haste and I; httNt«« osityj and is doing penance, ray sweet sister Margery the most aoos attentions a loving, impuMveße&it like hers could wish. il Margery, beautiful Margery ! Proudaen-* aitive souT,how she had suffeiudi t Nona* vances would ever have coino How strong her love must have ul, to moke reason thus loan haiftottenng from her throne. ’ • ’ , ' Ralph and his wife are happy; a ‘llttlb Maud,’ a «very gyp sy.; like Margery,Vls teasing her aunt for that promised walker? and so I put the last dash of the pen story of THE WHITE GHOST MARGERY! A Romanee. The Shippensburg News baa theibliaw ing::—About-three years ago, Gtaorab Fryj of this vicinity, became cnamCtod of i beautiful Gipsy girl, who, in company with a number, of her people, had enoattip? ed in a wood near this place. Mr. Fryj love was fondly reciprocated by 1 the fait- Gipsy, and she consented to marry hintf But ‘.true love never did ran smooth,’ and ' so it happened in this-Oase. The cpnsopti of the lather-of the lady could not bo bb taiped to her marriage with ‘ a man not ac customed to gentility !’. However, ‘Love laughs at' locksmiths !* When Mr. Fiy found that ho ‘could not win tho favor pf the old folks,’ he set about planning, ways and means to steal the object of his affeo tions. In this he was successful One night when the hard-hearted old man was wrap* pod in the arms of Morpheus, Mr. Fry ap proached the camp of the wanderers, and was met by her for whom his heart had long in agony N sighed ! After fondly efil-N bracing her, lie solicited: heb taaccompahy him, without delay, to a village a fow miles distant. Without hesitation shecompUbd with his request, and on the following day, they were married. * * The m the old Gipsy when he found that MS* daughter had ‘sloped,’ can better be int» agiued, .than described. Nothing: Opnhb soothe his temper save the return of child. In vain he sought for her. ’ ing could be heard from'her. Finally,* when he found that he himself could'lintF no traces of her, he offered a heavy rewarck to the person who would discover, hp& whereabouts, and in the presence of apver|d ‘kidnappers,’ he exhibited large quantities* of gold and silver, which induced them* to* make the effort, and a few evenings, after,- in a most inhuman manner, they accoms plisbed their object. In the absence *of ■Mr. Fry they wrested her away andlig|iv~; gred her over to’the hands of susceptible of the divine feelings* of Immediately the entire group of Gipsied! fled from the country, liumor sjaid ‘that* they had returned to England, from whence, they hailed. Two years noiselessly glided' by, and nothing was heard by Mr. Pry from his absent wife, although he lOng cherishod the" hope that she-would, escape from her ‘ tyrannical parent,’and return to , him whom she loved. Time, however, gradually rusted Mr. Fry’s love tor hht Gipsy wife. He felt that itwas'notgood* to be alone' so long, and at the end o£ twin years ho. again united his_ destinies wiihi autther of Eve’s, fair daughters. Suffice, it to say, with the latter he experieneba no" visible difficulty. Things inovOd smiling-' ly along—Mr. : Fry lived happily •with hid wife and the rest of mankind. B|ut wlash how short-lived arc some connubial; com binations I Last week Mr. Wi ffe —his Gipsy wife—in company with ‘ George Fry the second,’ amved in thiir' place, in search for him 1- By the assis tance of officer Shade, she was. successful in finding him. Limited space forbids p - from entering into details, at this time, of’ the excruciating suffering _ Mrs. ~Pry has undergone since her departure frbitt this* place. The intelligence of hethnsbanck’st second marriage wasp severe shock toWy but she omphatieaUy;4ecla|w her cxcla slye right to him. lt By that Mr. Fry V sccondwifS was' awidOw/ 4 that her husband went to Galtfcpiia cornel ypays agp> and. soou after it was rumored that ho was few weeks’dnee a him by hbr, wc have been infomed.inl which he'states that he will return in the next steamer, &o. > gIEANOE EbEAK OB were shown on Wednesday almost table freak (#nature v ' was taken from a sow which had' been 1 slaughtered dh the farm of Dr. Thorn,Tay* v Iqr £O. Va- It has a regular trunk like an elephant’s j one ear like a natural pig’s, and the/other shaped and hanging down 1 precisely like an elephant, it has hut oho eye, and that is placed in the center of m ■; bead,and contains two distinct sights; it jus quits upper lip a horn, like arhi npeer<»; in 1 the place of a lower jaw it has a distinctly formed human chin ; its two Hind legs and feet are perfectly developed, the same as a natural pig’s, while one of its foire feet has a protuberance nearly re sembling a human thumb, and the Othw fore foot more nearly resembles a camera thingwe canlilcenittc.The* body is but very sparsely covered ''' ■■■ i ■ . • ■ r . t • *■- V- i • *><>• i V K.J