The Altoona tribune. (Altoona, Pa.) 1856-19??, October 29, 1864, Image 1

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    !& WILLIAMS.
IM3 1
ware. Sdc.
inviiiK taken -charge of the Hardware
nli Tin Mn>|. reccullv under the charge
.ijn Virginia street. opposite Kessler’s
rtW loWwl largely If He ir «ock are non
t iioythifcg in the liar..war. and Cutlery
niisaws. Axes. Angers* ABae», Chi«l».
nJnmf’T.-. Pltiii's. Hifigen, Lwk?, Luichw,
j'ork*. {?p<» , .'n’ 4 . £c.» &c., all of which
rto’ost reasonhM« lemis.
»iauythincr in list Jlar<Jwar«.* lint*.arc
nil exaiuiiu’ iht tir sto '«.
i-lwi Oils. Points, Carbon Oil, nc., to their
-{•Tats*- «*f all tbcV' articles ut.u sintll a<s
ihami an a-virlmi-nt from which »uy
.eU-'t an article tn their fisacy.
end W 1 liLOW-WARE
iU e ft >Ttj){;o will make U) Of<U
■ li- oalu-d
i;n« irO';-;|-0v aUt-nth-il t-».
(signed would respectfully iu-
.-..rja 0 f .vit” *!M couij
re*in‘nr,l wlp.Tt; lie bftv
Rw:k of
b*; r passed in
if ’.jr.icii i irgvr than
is V o'v-.-J. S!i ib-.'fv excitiH*
x-' !iu:. w}i-p* they can get \
[t. »u;y . k u-i i-Oo-
Iry, Hi-
U ami at dm 1-owost Prices,
v. 'u; A' ;..v. if Uot a
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wUich will
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AND iW*X>' B»k»T8 AM* iIIOES. ■
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ri- a.';d n;,n. ii- id- <>f v.-ick j'*ckajf>‘.
■!: i:i !.»■ ■ iiini plviv,: a perfect
t- fjv. ; ; »rer othr
).'!;iclms-- ilvwe & Stc*
>v!st by mail oif
'.■li'mitl'.' r )M;I
■ulA M.ijmo-Gtir-.d 1 y
li'-ii iJE ur'KAT. Boston.
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; SHKKT-1 i.u> W a UK.
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e -iL
Ir 1 o
t>; ■ -r.
[ at Th*-
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‘rz i ‘ -apply vrlii uiwsy* b«
KT-JJiOX WAKE, in great. variety.
ich*-.! a r<--m lo bl»
-‘ill k<iepoK haL.l an of rup
•*rfc prompt!v irti-iid-d t<r.
i and Slicet Iron Ware
|> 01'Li) KLSPKCT-j^
» keep* constantly on hand h
). filing, l x ,'.Tlnr, u nsi
h h»- wiH ►o-jJ at low price*. *.<rj reawn-
h h ) .r<T'r stock of Tii; tjruf HheeX
• ;tr*?fan unities t>r culiunry purp'j* 4 /* —
J'ijif.s i/r,
thv' r ght of «n**; iis BJuir count>
. only to to seun t-u W apprecia.
•» x*>eti tyevfry farmer, butcher or those
: Into.
pxhl to patting ap SPOUTING
’ "nfrr. .Spouting painted and Iput up
tumjH. fapril t-J. y
: : it
association, . V.-
■ rvon*, fci-iiiinal,’Urinary and Sexual
reliable treatment—in Kcj>orw of tho
lATlON—sent by mail in pvalcd letf-r
charge Albino. Dr. JL \SKILLIK
«rd Awjociatirm. 'Xo. 2 St>urli St.,
-» . [dan.
best of Chocolate. Svrupi* nnd Sugarp.
LACKERS! A fresh sup
elknutt* crackers ju*t received and for
In IN. f.mnd a MITOHMAITS.
•S NEW .-STOKE, corner
u! Virginia Ft«. •
jfßU¥ * DERN,
VL. 9
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f tqo»r» *» “O' l to ** * month*. 1 jo»r.
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UMr«»tt w*H marked with the number #f iowr*
jrssraii’t “ a rted
MconUng to A* i inr for trtrj ln*«rtion.
/'.-J7 •>.
“Oh ! Nellie, Nellie! Oh ! Nellie !”
A tiny pair of white hands were raised
depreoatingly, and a pair of large, violet
eyes sought her face, bearing in their
depths an expression of entreaty beautiful
to behold ; but the proud face of Nellie
Raymond turned away, perhaps to shut
out that beautiful vision, and a low, tril
ling laugh ran over her red lips.
“Ob ! Nellie, how can you be so heart
less ! How can you lead a man on to
believe you love him, and then, when his
heart is yours, with all its great, deep
fount of manly love and tenderness, laugh
>in his face, and bid him go from your
presence—hopeless and despairing. 1 tell
you, Nellie Raymond, you will some day
have to account for the misery you have
“Do you think so ?” said Nellie, lightly.
“Ah 1 well.”
“But it will not be well,” said Alice
May. “You will see it in a different
light some day. I could not close my
eyes one hour in peaceful slnmber were
my life so weighed down with such evil
deeds as yours.”
“Evil deeds! Really, Alice, you are
harsh,” exclaimed Nellie, a flush of mo
mentary mortification and anger over
spreading her white forehead.
“Dear Nellie,” said her friend, “what
is the use of calling things by other than
their right names t If 1 seem severe, I
only tell you the truth, and you know that
I have ever been your best friend—candid
and frank.”
“Well, Allle, you might have a little
more regard for one’s feelings,” said
“Have you any regard for the feelings
of others, Nellie asked Alice. “There
is a good book in which a sublime teacher
aid, ‘Do unto others as you would have
them do unto you.’ Now, how far do
you carry out this rule T”
“Oh! AUie, spare me for pity’s sake—-
don’t preach to me now,” said Nellie.—
“1 m not in a mood foe it.”
ft 00
« 00
With » milder, wfter aaurt,
u..—. (be ether deep above,
Where allday the floating cloadlete
Like freil barge* tilent more ;
While afar where the hoiiion
with the mountain* bright,
Fleet* of arg tales seem anchored.
lament of golden light.
o’er rale and woodland
gggtetb low the lilrery haie—
Bathed the bird-note* from the border*.
Withered dead the flowery taaxe; v
And the purling rtreemlet murmur*
Tenderly it* *ad refrain,
A* though lulling wearied nature
To her long, Numbering.
Muting in the ru*Uing fore*t,
With the dead leave* tcatlered round.
From it* height anon one saileth
Pa*t me with a tpirit »onnd ;
Soft air* from the glen are wafted—
From the verdant labelled pine
Low myiteriotu light and tobbingt—
WbUpeied voice* half divine.
Indian Sommer ! how like magic
Memorial clutter at the name!
Memoriae of a race long blighted
Of a wild yet princely fame;
Fancy viewt the lowly wigwam—
Dark-eyed maiden* of rare charm*—
S«Me thiyftajin in grave conntel —
Dinky warriors clad in arm* !
Driwming day* of waning autmnn,
LovtliMt, oddest of (be yeti !
Mmoy * lesson, mystic poem,
Reed ere from thy leaves so sere !
Though life’s Jens e’er soon is vanished,
As glad masic's answering thrill
Yet may sound its drear November,
Light and beauty linger still.
But AIW May was relentless.
“You did not spare poor George Mor
t®h> whom you so eruelly deceived,” she
continued, “andthen drove him from you
with despair in bis heart, and the burden
of a hopeless life. The green sod of an
Italian vale, covers the heart of one who
loved you but too wildly, and whose re
ward, after months of weary wandering,
and a hopeless, pining life, which soon
sank beneath its weight ot sorrow, is an
exile’s Then there is another —a
widow’s only son and pride —who frets
his life away in a madhouse ; yes, a mad
house, Nellie, to which your cruelty con
signed him. Oh! Nellie Raymond, better
a thousand times despoil your lace of its
dangerous beauty than bear the load of
sin it brings upop you, for it is fcarfui.”
A slight quiver in the erect frame of
the beautiful girl was the sole response,
“Poor Walter Mayfield I” continued
Alice, sadly ; “sometimes 1 pass the win
dow of the' cell in which he is confined,
and catch a glimpse of his haggard face,
and he always smiles like a pleased child
when he sees me. Then I. contrast him
now with what he once was, and weep in
spite of myself ewer the wreck of a strong,
noble life. He used to be so pleasant and
gay always, but he was strong and self
reliant when anything occurred to call
forth energy or- action. Oh ! he was a
noble,, handsome man ; but now he is
feeble and helpless—a hopeless maniac.—
Poor fellow!’’
12 00
u oo
8 00
10 00
20 oo
40 oo
1 76
U 00
as oo
Nellie's face Wore an expression ot min
gled grief, defiance and mortification ; but
she remained silent for a few moments,
watching the tears as they rolled slowly
over Alice May’s cheeks.
“And my own dear, only brother will
be your next victim,” said Alice, after a
pause, looking up sadly and mournfully.
“Oh! Nellie, he is all I have—l am alone
in the world, with him only to love me !
Spare him to me, for the love of mercy !
Nellie rose with a hotly flushed cheek
and flashing eye ; -
“Allie, how can you talk thus 1” she
exclaimed. ‘‘But I tell you, Allie May,
if art or beauty can bring your proud,
cold brother to the feet of a he
shall come to mine. He shall love me ”
“And if he does, and you turn him from
you, you will kjili him,” -said Alice.—
“Once unbend ' his proud nature, and
unlock the founts of tenderness in his
heart, and then cast him from you, and
see the consequences. Oh' Nellie Ray
mond, there is sufficient on your soul
already. Spare yourself, if you spare no
The last words were unheeded, for
Nellie had swept from the room, and little
Alice May bowed her head upon the sofa
cushion and sobbed piteously. She had
warned her brother repeatedly, but he
seemed heedless, and with an aching heart
the gentle little ’sister looked forth to a
hopeless, desolate life for him who had ever
been her all on earth.
Several Weeks passed away, and little
Alice May stood before the altar. The
man she had chosen was noble, true and
good, and for hec_ a bright path lay
before her; but there was another to
whom her eyes wandered uneasily, and
who hovered incessantly round the gay
butterfly form of the proud syren, Nellie
Raymond, whose dark eyes flashed with
triumph as the proud man bent his hand
some, stately head with such devotion.
Alice’s sweet lips quivered when she saw
her brother bend down and whisper in
Nellie’s ear, and heard the request that
she would walk with him upon the lawn:
and the two wandered off.
The moon shone brightly, and Edward
May, drawing - Nellie Raymond’s arm
within his own, walked slowly down the
broad gravel Walk, his face upturned
towards the stars, and a smile of inex
pressible happiness wreathing hik sweet
“Nellie,” said Edward, and he spoke
very low and softly; ‘■Nellie, I am very
happy to-night—happier than 1 had ever
hoped to be, and I want some one *o sym
pathize with me in it. AUie has another
now to occupy her attention. May I tell
it to you V
“Yes,” she whispered, softly. “None
can share your happiness and sympathize
with you more- freely than I. Tell me
For a moment he was silent, stretching
out his hand to draw her down upon a
seat beside him. After a while he spoke,
half dreamily and very gently—
, ‘ I once believed,” said he, “that I could
never find a woman whom I could love
fully and truly—with such a love as I
must cherish for the woman whom I would
call my wife ■; bu* I have found her,
Nellie—(why do you tremble so?) a sweet,
pure-faced little thing, fresh and fragrant
us a budding rose, gentle as the summer
breezes, and' gay and glad as the lark
whose song she trills the whole day long.
Tell me that you rejoice in my unhappi
ness, Nellie —tell me that you will love
my little wife that is to be—sweet Lilly
Nellie’s lips were rigid and ashen, and
she rose up, quivering like an aspen.
“Oh 1I am ill,” she gasped. “Take me
into the house.”
Edward May rose hastily, and supported
her with his arm, but she nearly repulsed
him as she planted her foot firmly upon
the gravel. She had learned to love the
man with all the hidden passion and fiie
of her strong nature ; and now he told
her he had won another, and that other
was only a poor but beautiful governess
in a rich man's family. Oh lit was too
much ! He knew Nellie Raymond’s weak
ness, and he had punished her most fear
fully, though he believed in bis heart that
she was incapable of deep feeling.
Alice went to Nellie in answer to her
brother’s summons ; and, when every one
was gone from the room, she held out her
arms to Alice, white and stricken, with
an anguished moan—
‘‘Oil! Allie, I gave him my whole
heart, and he loves another!”
Then she sank down, pale and lifeless,
and it was many weeks ere Nellie Ray
mond woke to life and consciousness
Then she was a changed, repentant
woman : but it was hard to foil the soft
touch of a little hand, and see the light
form of Edward's wife bending so pity
ingly. Oh! the punishment of her evil
deeds had come, and it was heavy and
Nellie Raymond is Nellie Raymond still,
but she has grown into a calm, dignified
but lovely woman. She can sympathize
with the suffering because she has suffered,
and strives, by tenderness and love to
others, to atone for the misery she wrought
while yet in the heyday of her pride and
selfish love for admiration.
“ Mowing must be a grievous business.
Old daggers/by whose meadow I stood for
an hour, groans loudly every stroke of the
scythe. He made 412 strokes going the
length of his meadow : that’s 412 groans.
Quite penitential. He stopped to whet
three times, wiped his face with his shirt
sleeve nine times, and swore twice at the
bumblebees. These facts I took down to
report to the .‘County Statistical Associa
tion,’ which preserves all things in its ar
chives. I always notice things that way,
as I go on, ”
“ The 11 emulations of the ——- Kailway
terrify me when 1 read them. You ‘ must
not’ do that, and passengers are ‘warned,’
and ‘ informed,’and ‘notified,’ ‘cautioned,’
until I have concluded that the only place
where a man can ride peaceably is on top
of thecars. There no prohibitions meet
a fellow.’’
“I laughed just now. A fellow came
in who was built on the principle that
length is what nature demands more than
breadth. The ;cars being full, he had to
stand up, and propped himself by the
check-rope. He pulled it so hard that the
cars stopped. He rushed toj the door to
learn the cause. Started again. Like
result. Such a row when the conductor
found it out.”
“ Confound that old lady before me. I
had a tussel with her to kjecp her from
openin'; the window. She | watched me,
and the moment 1 went to sleep had it
raised to the roof. What an earache!
Could only revenue myself as I was leav
ing the cars, by accidentally dropping my
carpet-bag out of the rack on her head.—
Such a squeal 1
“ Squint-eyed mother. Keeps oue eye
on her sleeping cherub, the other on the
beauties of Nature as we pass along.”
“I was expatiating just now upon the
glories and abundance of the harvest, and
pointed to one immense field, golden with
wheat sheaves, when that rascal Bri
dampened my spirits by suggesting, ‘ Yes,
a heap of good eating in that pile.’ No
romance in Briggs."
“ Child on the next seat so elaborately
curled, should have to see it undressed to
know the sex. Confound the woman who
will curl her boy’s hair. What does she
think he will come to !”
“ Good expression—‘His heart’s as big
a boulder.' Much better than the obso
lete form, ‘ big's a piece of chalk.’ ’’
“ How indelicate to hang ladies’ under
garments on clothes-lines in public. I
always turn my eyes away, but not till I
have critically examined them. They are
highly objectionable, and I wonder it is
“Singular!” says Briggs. “There’s a
man who weighs two hundred, and his
wife not much less ; yet their baby will
hardly pull down five pounds.’ Briggs
wants me to explain it, but I tell him I
“ Did you ever observe there’s no ani
mal will notice a railroad train passing by
except a horse ? The cow, ■ hog ahd goose
pay you no more attention than a boy in
a lawyer's office.”
“ You can tell when an experienced
traveller enters the car. l|e chooses the
side opposite the sun. Greenhorns don’t.”
“ Why does that young woman deem it
necessary, when she smiles, to show off the
condition of her gums ? I cquld study dent
istry in one hour’s conversation with her.
Should only have to tell Iter 26 good jokes
and I could then model every tooth in her
“ I sold Briggs yesterday, good. He
asked me if I had anything new. I told
him yes —a new pair of drawers. Took
him down beautiful. He is always mak
ing merchandise of me when he can, but
1 disposed, of him cheap that time.”
[independent in everything.]
“ Here are two rules for you, Fred,” said
Giles Warner, looking up ihe paper he
was reading, and addressing a younger
brother, who was sitting by the stove,
playing with a favorite dog.
“Well, what are they * Let’s have them,”
said Fred, suspending his sport with the
“ The first is: Never get vexed with
anything you can’t help.”
“ Are not these rules as applicate to you
as to me?” inquired Fred, archly.
“ No doubt of that,” replied Giles, good
humoredly : “ hut then it is so much easier
to hand over a piece of advice to another
than to keep it for one’s own personal use.
It is a kind of generosity that don’t re
quire any self-denial.”
Fred laughed.
“But whaf say you to these rules?”
continued Giles. “ flow would it work if
vve adopt them ?”
“ I think they take a pretty wide and
clean sweep,” said Fred. “They don’t
leave a fellow any chance at all to get
‘‘That might be an objection to them,.’
said Giles, it any one was wiser, better
or happier for getting vexed. I think tjiey
are sensible rules. It is foolish to vex
ourselves about things that can be helped,
and’ it is useless to vex ourselves about
what can’t be helped. Let us assist each
other to remember these two simple rules.
What say you’”
“ I’ll agree to it,” said Fred, who was
usually ready to agree with anything his
brother proposed, if it was only proposed
“ Tliat’s too bad I” exclaimed Fred the
next morning, while making preparations
for school.
“ What is the matter?” inquired Giles.
“ I have broken ray slioe string, and it
is vexatious. I’m in such a hurry.”
“It is vexatious, no doubt,” replied
Giles, “ but you mast not get vexed, for
this is one of the things that can be help
ed.. You can find a string in the left corner
of the upper drawer in mother’s bureau.”
“ But we shall be late, at school,” said
“No weshan’t, said Giles. “We shall
only have to walk a little faster. Besides,
if you keep cool, you will find the string,
and put it in much sooner than you can if
become vexed and worried.”
“ That’s true.” said Fred, as he started
for the string, quite restored to good humor.
Several opportunities occurred during
the day for putting into practice the new
ly adopted rules. The best was this :
In the evening Giles broke the blade of
his knife while whittling a hard piece of
“ It can’t be helped,” said Fred, “ so you
must not get vexed about it.”
■ “It might have been helped,” said Giles,
“ but I can do better than to fret about it.
I can learn a lesson of care for the future,
which may some day save a knife more
valuable than this. The rules work well.
Lei’s try them to morrow.”
The next morning Fred devoted an hour
before school to writing a composition.
After he had written a half dozen lines,
his mother called him off to do something
for her. During his absence, his sister
Lucy made use of his pen and ink to write
her name in a school-book. In doing this
she carelessly let fall a drop of ink on the
page he was writing. Fred returned
while she was busily employed in doing
what she could to repair the mischief.
“ Y'ou have made a great blot on my
composition,”, he exclaimed, looking over
her slioolder.
“I am verry sorry. I did not mean to
do it,” said Lucy.. .
Fred was so vexed that he would have
answered his sister very roughly if Giles
had not interposed.
“ Take care, Fred : you know the thing
is done and can’t be helped.”-
Fred tyied hard to suppress his vexation.
, “I know it was an accident,” he said
pleasantly, after a brief struggle with him
Lucy left the room, and Fred sat down
again to his composition. After a moment
he looked up.
“No great harm is done after all,” he
said. “Two or three alterations are much
needed, and if I write it over again 1 can
make them.”
“So much for a cool head and not get
ting vexed,” said Giles, laughing. “Our
rule works well.”
At night Fred tore his, pants while
climbing over a feni^e.
“That’s too bad!” he said. 1 : ■
“ It can be helped,” raid Giles. “ They
can be mended.”
‘‘The way to help it is what troubles
me,” said Fred- “ 1 don’t like to ask
mother, she hag so much to do.”
Giles proposed that he should get over
his difficulty by asking Lucy to do the job
for him, as her mother had taught her to
mend very neatly. Fred wiie not at first
disposed to adopt the measure. He knew
that Lucy disliked mending very much,
and was afraid she would be cross if asked
to do it, but at last decided to run the risk
of that. They found Lucy busily employ
ed with a piece of embroidery, and quite
absorbed with her work. Fred looked
significantly at Giles when he concluded
he had gone too far to retreat, and must
make a bold push.
“ I wish to ask a favor of you, Lucy, but
I fear I have come in the wrong time,”
said Fred.
“What do you want 9 " said Lucy.
“I am almost afraid to tell you. It’s
too bad to ask you to, do what 1 knpw you
“You are a good while at getting to
what is wanted,” said Lucy, laughing.
“Come, out with it.”
Fred thus encouraged, held up his foot
and displayed the rent.
“ Well, take them oil’, I will do my best,”
said Lucy, cheerfully.
“ You are a dear, good sister,” said
Fred- “When I saw what you were about.
I thought you would not be willing to do it.”
“My uncommon amiability quite puz
zles you, does it ?" said Lucy, laughing.
“ I shall have to let you into the secret.
To tell the truth, I have’bden’thinking all
day what I could do for you in return for
your not getting vexed with me for blot
ting your composition. So now you have
“So much for our rules,” exclaimed
Giles, triumphantly. “ They work tci a
“ What rules ?” inquired Lucy.
“ We must tell Lucy all about it, said
They did tell her all about it, and the
result was, that she agreed to join them in
trying the new rules. — Merry's Museum.
The Curiosity of French Restaurants.
The Paris correspondent of the London
Star writes as follows: Restaurants lor
the working classes in Paris have, now-a
days, recourse to every species of invent ion
to attract attention. Last week, one just
opened in the Faubourg Monturatrc prem
isses a dinner of two courses tin I a desert
to whoever writes, in a legible hand, the
answer to a rebus offered every morning
for solution by the damn de comptoir. An
other, in the Faubourg St. Antoine, hit
on a still more strange expedient. He
ohose for his ensign a gigantic golden saus
age, which he swung enticingly over the
door of his restaurant, the words, “A la
soucisse d’or,” in huge gold letters, blazing
beneath. His salon is large, its white walls
decorated by festoons of the tempting edi
bles, so highly appreciated on the other side
of the Rhine, and in every fiftieth sausage
a five-franc piece in gold. His principle
was that as his customers called for sau
sages, they should be cut off in aTegular
rotation from the string so artistieally ar
ranged round the dining hall. The result
may be better imagined than described.
The eager anxiety depicted on the counte
nance ot every oitvricr, as he nervously ex
amined and finally ate his sausage, would
have supplied a phrenologist with many
good subjects,, for study. The expedient
proved most remunerative to the proprie
tor, but the quarrels that ensued were of
so serious a nature that the police have
interfered, and the master of the establish
ment has received orders either to shut up
his shop or to proceed on a less exciting
You must constantly have remarked in
the windows of restaurants of this class
Ittumphal arches, columns, and every spe
cies of architectural device, constructed
with marvellous ingenuity of hundreds of
snails piled up in moss. I have often been
puzzled to know what was the ultimate
destiny of these myriads of snails, whose
shining shells evince an amount of care
bestowed on their outer aspect which
proves that they must be there for a pur
pose. In France, you must remember,
that snails did occupy public attention, an
electric sympathy having been discovered
to exist between the mail and female snail,
which suggested to some enthusiastic savant
the idea that the expense of electric wires
might thereby be saved. At this period
of their history their name in French,
which from the days of the Pharamonds
had been tamacon, was changed to escargot,
which patronymic they retain. The race,
however, sank into oblivion, oand one was
only reminded of its merits by apotheca
ries, advertisements announcing the must
delicious syrups, lozengers, &c.. made of
snails, and warranted to cure every cold
and cough that ever was caught. Yester
day, however, messieurs les escargots occu
pied the attention of the Police Court.
Snails, it appears, are eaten at taverns and
public houses, not in hundreds or in thous
ands, but in myriads, and snail gourmets
assert —I shall not dispute with them—
that they possess a delicacy of flavor which
exceeds that of oysters. Soil.
A shop in St. Penis was let a few months
ago to a milkman, who underlet it to a
certain Lancray. Extraordinary sounds,
as of rattling chains, were heard at dead
of the night emanating from the back prem
ises, and —faugh!—a vapor, fetid and
sickening, arose in black fumes, penetrat
ing the closed and curtained windows of
sleeping neighbors. What could it be?
Evidently the smoke came from Lan
ckay’s yard. What dark trade he did ply?
The police were applied to, and the milk
man proceeded against as having underlet
i his shop to so mysterious anS awful a per
sonago as his tenant proved. Laxcrat
stated that he was a wholesale snail mer
chant : that lie employed agents who bought
up snails in different parts of France, but
the most esteemed came from Burgundy,
and to prepare the snails for the Paris
market tiie process of cleaning must first
take place. This he was in the habit of
doing over night, by putting several thous
ands into huge tubs of water, and then
stirring them with iron forks, whit'n caus
ed the rattling sound so terrifying to Mr
Laxckay’s nervous neighbors; and that
tho next process was that of boiling, which
unfortunately, resulted in the rancid smoko
so offensive to their olfactory organs.
Major White’s Experience in,
Major White, formerly State Senator
of Pennsylvania, who was recent!}'releas
ed from Richmond after an imprisonment
of fourteen months, spyko at a Union
meeting in Philadelphia the other night,
fie said : %
" When the Christian and Sanitary-
Commisums (God bless them) sent us boxes
our condition was improved. But,after a
time tiiey looked upon the contents of our
boxes with anxious eyes, and whether they
gobbled them or not future history will
determine. .The speaker on Christmas
day felt almost happy in the thought of
hearing from and sending home. He had
been urged to speak for-his brethern in
misfortune, and ask for the privilotlge.
The well known tyrant, Turner, comman
der of the prison, informed the speaker,
that he was to go direct to Salisbury, by
order of Gen. Winder, who, ;\t Anderson
ville, last July, caused one thousand dead
soldiers to be carried out of the stockade.
By his order the speaker was taken to
Salisbury, where the Baltimore Plugs took
charge of him. He had given his blank
ets ami other - things to his fellow prison
This was Christmas day, and as be
went up the streets of -Richmond the Plug
Uglies cheered him with the assurance
tliat he would never be exchanged. That
did'nt help him along very much.
“ There are no happy scones in Rich
mond. There are no smiles of children.
There are no prosperous business house?.
Everything seemed to pressago the doom
that awaits it. Gotkgrant that that doom
may soon come. [Cheers ] He arrived
at Salisbury. He was put in a cold room
stripped and searched- He still had a few
burrowed greenbacks, and had put them
in his hoots. He managed to save them.
They,had scrutinize! all his family letters
and laid them on the table. He managed
to slip the greenbacks under the letters,
and afterwards restored all to Lis pockets.
In the room above him lay Gen Corcpran.
He was said to be well treated, but not °o
the speaker. They put him in an eight
feet dungeon. The guard was forbidden
to speak to him or allow anybody else to
do so. There was no light in the cell. A
piece ot iron-clad corn bread and a bone
of meat were placed upon the floor, with
out plate, for his first day’s food.
‘•There was no charge against him. ex-
cept that he was a Union Senator of Penn
sylvanra. Though entitled to the treat
ment of a prisoner of war, he was selected
from all his companions, and thus treated.
He was kept there for three weeks, and
afterwards in an old smoke-house, used as
a dead house, for the balance of the win
ter. It is the policy of the rebel officers
to wear out the lives of those Union pris
oners to whom they lake a prejudice.
However it had'taken twelve men to guard
him, and during the winter he had found
that among them there was Union senti
ment. They were North Carolinians, and
often when their officers were sleeping he
would discuss with them Union sentiment.
And ho was sure that a large ,'portion of
the North Carolina troops, instead of fight
ing for Jefferson Davis, would be thrice
glad to fight for the stars and stripes.”
Useful and Philosophical. —A new
and beautiful method of lighting gas with
out the use of a match has been introduced
by Cornelius & Daker in an improvement
called an electric bracket. It is.a purely .
scientific invention, and useful as it is
scientific. It is a neat and elegant fixture,
consisting of a brass cup, lined with silk,
a loosely-fitting India-rubber stopper, and ;
an insulated copper wire coil, with a
platinum point, directly over the burner.
Within the stopper is placed a small piece
of tin foil, to Hold or store for use the
electricity generated by the friction of the
India rubber stopper upon the silk lining
of the cup. While the cup is closed there
is a complete electric current maintained,,
but when the gas is to be lighted the cup
is lifted, the electric current is broken,
and the electricity passes down the coil of
I wire to the burner. At the same moment
| the gas is turned on, and is instantly
| lighted. It is so beautiful and simple a
■ mode of lighting, and so sure—lot'the
j damp weather, does not affect it—besides
| being s. entirely safe that it will un?
; doubtodly supersede the more dangerous
i methods of lighting gas by means 6f tapers
' and matches.
Don' talinelookqueerwithoutbeinggptced?
NO. 32