god pe Democratic Gale 4 Iisoellaneous. The Murderer’s Ordeal. A CALIFORNIA STORY. 1 was fond of the science of physiogomy. Prom my youth up, I was noted for my proclivity for reading the character of a man from his face ; and I finally became such =n adept in the art, that 1 occasionally guess ‘the very thoughts of the individual whose ‘countenance I was studying. Soon after the gold fever broke out, I went to Californie, and there I must con- ‘fess, among what else there was to inter ost me, I bad a grand opportunity for exer- cising my skill upon all sorts of faces seen under all sorts of circumstances, from the highest triumph of success to the deepest despair of failure. I first tried my luck at digging gold myself, but soon tired of that and believing I could make money faster, and with less labor, Topened a kind of a groce ‘ry and provision store, and went regulary into th e business of trade, buying most of my articles at Sacramento, getting them hauled 0 my quarters, and disposi ng of them at a ‘fair advance, to the miners and others. My store as I dignified my place of trade consisted of a rude skeleton of poles, with a sufficiency of cheap muslin drawn over them and pinned down to the earth, and was stockedonly with the most saleable articles, of which flour, pork, and whiskey found the most ieady market, especially ‘whiskey. In the dry seasonit is very dusty, ‘and every one seemed to be dry with a thirst whichnere water could not quench. 1fa man was successful, hie wante d whiskey to bring his body up to the the altitude of his spirits ; if unsuccessful, he wanted whis- key to bring his spirits up to the altitude of his body ; if it chanced to be a little cool, he wanted whiskey to warm him; if it was very hot, he wanted whiskey to cool him: ‘he needed whiskey in the morning to make “aim bright and active ; he needed whiskey ‘at the night to rest him and make him sleep ‘well; he wanted it when he bought, and ‘when he sold, when hs won and when he fost, when he stood up and when he sat down ; in short, whiskey was the great reg “ulator of human feelings —the genuine eliz- or vaitae—and zonseqoently, [did an immense business in whiskey. N ow this, though ‘brings me to my story. My store betng headguarters of that local- “ty for whiskey and provisions, I was ‘brought in contact with nearly every speci- ‘men of the genus homo that ventured in chat region ; and snch ano ther conglomera Mion of white, black and red —such another mixture of gentlemen, laborers, mountain ‘eers, gamblers, thieves and assasins—it would be hard to find outside the limits of ‘California. Of course 1 had a chance to study all sorts ot faces to my heart's con- content, but having, as I have said become ‘an adept in the art, an ordinary countenance ‘or a man governed by ordinary passions, whether gentle or brutish, did not interest ‘me. wanted to get hold of what 1s termed ‘a character— or one whose external would give no indica tion of his interval to any ‘but a connoiseur—or oue that would really ‘puzzle you to tell what to think of him. Among the many, such an one I at length found, At first I did not notice him- did pot think of hin. At a causual glance there was nothing to distinguish him from the %erd. Hecamein quietly, unobtrusively, ‘purchased a quantity of flour, pork and tea, paid for the same in gold dust, and went ‘out®bout his business. He repeated his visits at different intervals, perhaps some half a dozen of times, before he attracted wy attention to any thing peculiar in. his appearence and then I should have been at a loss to know what I saw more in him at last than at first. He was apparently about twenty five years of age, of medium height anda slender figure, of a dark complexion; regular feats ures, with dark strait hair, dark eyes, anda beard that covered the lower part of his face —in all of which there was nothing remar- kable—nothing striking. He was quiet— not talkative—had nothing to say except about the business he came pn—got what he wanted when I was disengaged, paid for what he got like a gentleman, and generally retired with an ordinary ‘¢ Good day,” or some similar civility. And yet as I have said, he began to attract my attentron at last, and I began to wonder why. Was 1t because he was so quiet, reserved and gen- tlemanly, and did not purchase whiskey like the rest, and occasionally get excited aud boisterous ¥ At ail events, he had bea gun to interest me in some way ; and the very fact, perhaps; that I could not tell how or why, led me into closer scrutiny, a deep er study of the man. After this I prolonged his visits as long as 1 could without causing him to suspect I did .sointentionally. The things he had wanted I generally had some trouble in get- ting, and filling up the interval by remarks about the weather, the country, the success of some, the failure of others—ina word, anything I could think of to induce conver sation, watching him furtively all the while He answered easily and readily, and yet with that peculiar kind of reserve that was not suggestive of tending toward famil- jarity. His replies however evinced 2 man of mind and education and I began to give him credit for being a thinker—perhaps a somewhat irrevelan’, a paradoxical term that best expresses my idea. One day, I scarcely know how I touched upon the general superstitions of mankind, ond to my surprise, I saw at last he was in- terested. His eye changed expression, and brightened, aud emitted a strange and pe culiar gleam ; and my attention being thus directed to his eye, I now bethought1 had never seen one like 1it—one capable of being so appa rently open down to the soul while concealing so much. It was off its guard now-—the door was really open to the soul that opening and saw that the soul of that men was a dark one. A nameless fear came over me—A strange thrill passed through me like an electric shot—1 felt an electric shudder of dread. — No wonder I had not been able to read him before ; the man bad been wearing an im- penetrable mask. I now had the key of the mystery, and to’ him, and I used it. He was interested in superstition—was superstitious himself. — Why ? Good men may be superstitions— bad men always are, because they carry a hell of wild fancies within them. Thus it was with this man, as [ could see by his eye, and I wade his fancies work upon him. I told him stories of sorcery, witcheraft and magic—of ghosts, hob goblins and devils— till he became pale with fear, breathed with compressed lips, and trembled in spite of his great nerve and skill. If good men, as | have said, are some- times superstitious, why, you ask, did I think this man superstitions also? First, | answer, because | had accidentally thrown him oft his guard and read his soul; and secondly because he was not naturally ner vous and credulous. Fear could only arise from the self convicted knowledge of a past wicked deed. The man was even then a criminal. Lut let we hasten along to the denownent. It chanced that no other person was pres ent when this conversation cccurred about the superstitious fancies of men, and so soon as we were interrupted by the entrance of another customer, my dark visitor left somewhat abruptly, After that he did not come as often as he did before, and never renewed the conversation that had so agita ted him, and never, 1n fact, entered into any I kept my thonghts to myself, but made some cas- ual inquiries about him, and learned that he had been so fortunate as to secure a cap- ital * lead,” from which his partner, ancths er young man, was taking out gold in quan. tities that promised to enrich them both, and that both had the good will and esteem of all who knew thew, One dark night, about three or four weeks after this, I wag startled with cries of * Murder! murder ! help ! help !” I jumped up, seized my revolver, and darted out into the open air. The cries and screams still continued, coming from a bend of the river about a hundred rods below.— In a mute I was joining five others, all well armed, and together we ran as hard as we could to the place from whence the alarm proceeded. When we arrived there, at least thirty men were collected in and around the tent of the dark man 1 have been describ- ing, and he himself it was that had given the alarm. His partner and companion had been robbed and he himself had been slight ly cut across.the face and gashed on the left arm, and he was all excitement, lament- ing his dearest friend, and vowing vengean de against the assassin. It was sometime be- fore we could get at the particulars, and then we learned that both had been sleeping side by side, when an unknown robber had crawled under the lighted canvass, stabbed one to the heart, and taken a large bag of gold from under his head. With this he was escaping, when the present narrator awoke and seized him, and received the wounds which had compelled him to relin- quish his hold. Lights were brought, and there, sure enough, was the bloody confirm. ation of all that had beén related. I shall make no attempt to portray the intense excitement, the wiid rage and con- sternation which this daring murder occa sioned. Every man felt that if the assassin escaped without his just punishment, there would no longer be secarity for anyone in our hitherto quict and peaceful valley, and solemn oaths were taken to hand the wretch if found, upon the nearest tree. A large reward was offered for his detec. tion and every gambler that had ever been seen about there was more or less suspect- ed, and | believe that, had any man been arrested on the following day, he would have been hung first and tried afterwards, I said less than any, for I had my own sus- picions, aud I contrived my plot in secret, and made a confident of no one. The murdered young man was as decently buried as surrounding circumstances would permit, and his companion, my superstitious friend, grew more moody with grief, refused to work his ‘“lead’’ any more, and proposed selling off his rock and tcols, and quitting the country altogether. I think he would have at once, only that T told him that it would not look well to leave without aa ef- tort to discover the murderer, as some peo- ple might be malicious enough to say that he knew something of the matter, and so get into trouble. He turned very pale and declared that he would stay » year if he other that he could possibly avoid. thought by that means he could discover | the assassin of his dear, dear friend, practical and selfish dreamer, if I may use | On the second afternoon following the! | yragedy, almost every individual im the vi-| | cinity, the friend of the mardered man| {am ong the rest, assembled at my store, at| | my particular request. I had told them T! ! had something to communicate respecting | the foul deed, and I though it not unlikely! | A Legend of the Juniata. BY ‘gay. | A Western corrvspondent of one of the | | Mississippi gun-boats, gives the following | | account of a spicy conversation with a phi | losophics] darkey : | About Pockets, Pockets are a marked featore of civilized life. Their history is the history of human- ity, and a catalogue of their successive con- tents would farnigh & condensed biography. “I noticed upon the hurricane deck to | There were no pockets in the fig-leaf of day an clderly darkey wtth a very philisoph- | Eden ; our first perents had to peed to I should give them some clite to the asSass| The pale, waning moon from her silver-like throne sin { Cast her light on a river, dark, silent and lono ; > But the crystal -like river rolled murm’ring along, When all had collected, and arranged | Never checked by the raye--never cessing its song. themselves, as [ had directed, in semi-circle | . | On ite shore 8 are huge masges of dark mossy rocks, before my dcor- eager, expectant, excited — | Soma broken in fragmenis—some pebbles—- some of the man—and T looked in at the door of] their origin in mysterious facts revealed | from the other world by God’s good provi- dence for the protection of the tnocenc and the punishment of the guilty, and among | other things 1 mentioned how the ghosts of | ‘their victims would haunt the wurderers, | compelling them to reveal their crimes— how land and sea had been known to give up their awful scerets —and how it had been asserted that if the guilty wretch should place his hands upon the body of the man be had secretly slain, the wounds would bleed afresh. *¢ And now, gentlemen,” 1 continued, “ I holl inmy hand a3 sure a test as any I have named, This simple egg, | 80 fair to the view, contains the wurderer’s hands to pieces the me secret. Let hun but take it in his and the frail shell will crumble and show to all that it is filled blood of his victim. You will excuse gentlemen for putting you all to the test. — with We do act know esch other's secrets —the murderer of the young man we buried yes- terday way be among us; but only the guilty need fear the trial. the anocent will surely pass the ordeal unharmed,” As I said this, I fixed my face upon the I never saw a more wretched and ghastly counten dark visitor, my suspected man, ance, nor a greater struggle in any living being to keep a cal and unmoved exterior The egg began its round. Some took it gravely, some lightly, some turned slightly pale, and some laughed outright. But on it went, aud came nearer to the man for I could see that he was trembling —that his very limbs were getting white, “It 18 your turn, vow !’’ in a cold, stera tone. Mina!" te ne! whom it intended. I said at lorgth he answered, with a ¢} “ Why-—why —should T— Wils Wa3 Iny-—my-- eC. Poor tempt to smit I take it ? friend I>’ “ Let him prove so now [I said eyes are upon you. Take the ordeal sent by Heaven, aud prove your inpocence—if you can!” He glanced hurriedly around. All eyes t were indeed upon him, and with looks of awakened suspicion. He made one desper ate effort to be calia—then sci-ed the fatal egg with trembiirg hands. The next moment it was crushed to atoms and his hands were wet and stained as with human gore A wild yell burst from the crowd. A despairing shrick came from the lips of the guilty wretch ; and falling rather than sinking down upon his knees, he crisd out — ¢ God of mercy, forgive me ? I did kill him! [did kill him! for his gold! his gold! Ob, cursed gold! Oh, cursed gold ! Oh, God cf Heaven forgive me !” * And how many before him I demanded ¢ Three! three! Oh God ot mercy, for give me 1” There was another wild yell, or rather how! of fary— a rush, like wolves on their prev—an the poor wretch was seized, al most torn limb from limb, and dragged fu riously away. In less than ten minutes from his confes- sion he was dangling from a neighboring tree swinging by bis neck. So died the murderer whose name I heve suppressed, bacause he had respectable friends who are sti'l living. I will only add that believing him guilty | I had previously prepared the egg, putting | red coloring matter in it, expecting to see bim crush it through his superstiticus fear of a supernatural discovery. They nromis ed me the reward for the detection of th, murderer— but this I declined. Justice was all that I had sought and this T had obtained a O-— — 77=In the battle at Pittsbnrg Landing young Martin Beem. of Alton, Illinois, scarce | eighteen years old, was a Sergeant in the | Thirteenth Missouri, having entered the re- giment asa private. On that Fatal Sunday | the color bearer was shot down at his side | he caught up the flag and carried it through | the day, and slept that night with its folds {around him. The next morning his captain appointed him a Second Licutenant pro tem { pore, The first volley killed the First Lieus | tenant and Martin took his place. Soon after the Lieutenant Colonel fell and the | Captain of Martin's company acted as Ma- jor, leaving this young hero to carry the | company through the battle, which he did most gallantly, and escaped unharmed’ — | Young Beem wag in a printing office when | the war broke out, he went to St. Louis and enlisted among the three months’ volunteers, | At the expiration of that service he enlis- | ted for the war. We may hear more from { him cre the war 18 over. U27"An eminent physician has discovered | that the nightmare in nine cases outof ten 2 produced by owing a bill for & newspa~ per. I came forward holding in my hand an egg. ! ~~ blocks, or Then I made the short speecl the | Others piled as with care, near the pure, limpid ten I made them a short specch on the su-| Lai perstitions of mankind, which 1 contended | Done Dy ausessio magic, how strange ! liko a dream. All along the green brink, on the high banks | subjont. around, . trecs whose red leaves have long covered the ground : Stand From the tall pine aud maple the gum seems to shrink, And the sycamore stretching his arms o'er the brink. But sce ! on tha shore, to the rig Where the moon's glittering r and gleam, On a rock, ‘neath that cliff, that towers so hig As if striving, (but vainly) to touch the blue sky. f the stream, gecm to sparkle Yes, thore on a rock, that by nature adorned With long n.ossy hangings, like velvet aro formed, Sits one who, tho’ sil nt, a look would batray, A lonely, brave gpirit,—his thoaghts faraway. T now ses him plainly, tho’ the night's long since p y. g 3 past, And the shadows of age o'er my vision are cast; Yet atill thro’ its aimness that chief IT behold, So mournful, 80 silent, now long pale aud cold. On his brow, oh, how noble! a head-drees he wore That sat like a crown ‘neath the plumes that he bore ; Around hiz broad shoulders, across his deep . breast, Were hung bow and quiver, the arms he loved CBG. "Round a form that Deme Nature bat ge'dom be- slows, Wag a white Wampum belt that bold form to on- close, And his feet were enonaed in the skins of the deer Bound reund with quills or the porcupine's spear. He rises, he speaks, and with outstretching arm, He points to the moon—he has broken the charm. Now he subg, ob, what anguish ! that dark fash- iug eye Reminds me of lightning when thunders close hy. *“ I came from the West where the Prairie grass wives, To the land of my fatheré—the noble and brave, Who once were so many—their warriors so bold, Their daughters so fair and their wisdom untold. The white man now plants his corn o'er their bones, On the goil haliowed dear by the Indian's moans. The Great Spirit willed it—hard ute | But if miae 12 go hard —whits ws of the spirits, the happy aud blessed, Whera the flowers of youth and beauty ne’er fade, ‘Neath tho sun in the West where these fair Isles | are laid E’'er the pale moo :2 her pldde in the sky Shall the dark ata hear Okoona’s last sig Then grasping bis weapous he plunged in tho stream, . And the brave and Bis race ail had passed like a dream. "Twas aid by old Lunters—believing the tule— That on beaatiful nights when the moon’s waning pale, The ghost of the Warrior oft rormed oer the spot Where his red fathers dwelt, which in life he had sought. itr iee ewe Douglas’ Opinion of Senator Sumzuer. If there was any man that the late la. mented Senator Douglas regarded with abe horrence, 1% was Senator Sumner of Massa. chusetts. Here is a portrait that he drew of him in 1854, Addressing himself to him he said : *Is there anything in the means by which hie gov here to give him a superiority over other gentlemen who came by ordinary means ? Is there anything inthe fact that he came here with a deliberate avowal that he never would obey one clause of the Con stitution of the United States, and yet put his hand upon the Holy Bible, in the pres- ence of this body, and appealed to the Al- mighty God to witness that he would be faithful to the Constitu ion, with a pledge of perjury on his sonl, by violating both that oath and the Constitution 2 Le came here with a pledge to perjure himself as a con- dition of eligibility to the place. . Has he a right to arraign us because we feel it to be our duty to be faithful to that Constitution which he he disavows, to that oath which he assumes and then repudiates © The Senate have not forgotten the do bate ou the Fugitive Slave Law, when that Senator said, m reply to a question whether he was in favor of carrying into effect that clause of the Consti= tution in regard to the rendition of fugitive slaves ? Is thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing?’ A dog. to be true to the Constitution of your country ? A dog un- less you are a traitor ? That was his po- sition ; and still he cowes here and arraigns us for crime, and talks about audacity #— Did mortal wan ever witness such audacity in an avowed criminal 2” UZ A story of an enterprising news-boy is told by a Detroit paper. He took the tel- cgraphic heading of the News of the T'enness see battle, and at his own expense, had them telegraphed to Port Huron and the various places along the railroad route. On the receipt of such news everybody was stirred up and eager to get the full particu- lars. As the evening train arrived at the various stations he found crowds anxiously awaiting him, and everyh dy calling for the papers. At Port Huron a meeting "as in progress at the church, and the choir was singing as the whistle sounded (he approach of the train. The meeting at once broke up and the congregation dispersed to read the news, and in a few moments every paper I serves me : | ical and retrospective cast of countenance, squatted upon his bundle, toasting his shins against the chimney, and apparently pluag- ed into a state of profound meditation. — Finding vpon- inquiry that he belonged to the Ninth Illinois, one of the most gallantly behaved and heavily-losing regiments at Fort Donelson battle, and part of which was aboard, began to interrupt him upon the His philosophy was so much in the Fallstaffian ven that J will give his views in his own words as near as my memory “Were you in the fight 17 ! “Had a little taste of it, sa.” | +*Stood your ground, did you ¥’ No s2. I ran.’ . “Run at the first fire. did you 2" “Yes, sa, and would hab run soona, hab I no’d it war cumin.” “Why, that wasn't very creditable to your courage.” “Dat isn’t in my line, sa—cookin's my perfeshin.” “Well, but have yon no regard for your reputation.” “Reputation’s nuffia to me by de side ob hfe.” “Do you consider your life worth more than other people’s 27 “it’s worth more to me, sa.” “Then you must value it very highly 2” “Yes. si, I does--more dan all dis world, more dan a million ob doliary, sa, for what would dat be worth toa man wid de bref! out of him ? Self-preserbashun am de fust law wid me.” “But why should you act upon a different rule from other men 2” “Because different men sets different val ue upon dar lives— mine is nov m de ar ket.” “But if you lost it, you have the satisfac. tion of knowing that you died for your coun try.’ “What satisfaction would dat be to me me when the power of feeling was gone 1° | it | «Then patriotism aud honor sre worth! “Nuffiin whatever, sa-—1 regard dem as among de vanities.’ “If our soldiers were like you, traitors micht have broken up the government with vut resistance.” “Yes sa, dar would have been no help for I wouldn't put wy hfe in de scale ginst any gobernment dat ever existed, for no gob erntaent could replace the loss to me.” «Do you think any of your Comp. would have missed you, if yon had been! killed 2 “May by not, sa—a dead white man ain't | much to dese sojers, Ict alone a dead nigga | —but I'd miss myself, and dat was de pit! wid me.” Ttis safe to say that the dusky corpse of that Afri an will never darken the field of carnage. it, a Tie Tax Bio. —Since the report of the tax bill, published some time since, was given to the public, several new aniend ments bave been made to it as follows : tor kissing a pretty girl, $1.00. For kissing a homely one, $2,00 —the ex- tra amount being added probably as a pun- ishinent for man’s folly. For ladies kissing one another, Ten dol- lars. The tax is placed at this rate in or. der to bresk up the custom altogether, it being rezarded by M. C's az a piese of inexcusable absurdity. For every flirtation, 10 cents. Every young many who has more than | one * girl’ is taxed $5.00. For courting in the kitchen, 25 cents. Courting in the sitting room. 50 cents. Courting in the parlor, $1.00. Courting iu a romantic place, $5,00 and 50 cents for each oftence thereafter. Sceing a lady home from church, 25 cents for each offence. Seeing her home from the dime society, 5 cents—the proceeds to be appropripated to the relief of disabled army chaplains. From a lady who paints, 50 cents. For w caring low necked dresses #1.00. For each curl in a lady,s head above ten, 5 cents. For every unfair device for entrapping young men into the sin of matrimony, $5. 00. Eor wearing boops larger than ten feet iu circumference, 8 cents for each hoop. Old bach’s over thirty are taxed $10,00. Over forty, $20. Over fifty, $50, and sentenced to banish ment in Utah, Each pretty lady is to be taxed from 25 cts. to $25 dollars, sha to fix the estimate of her own beauty. [tis thought that a very large amount will be realized this provision. Each boy baby’ 50 cents. Each girl baby’ 10 cents. Families having more than are not to be taxed. rE re 07* The higher you rise, the wider is you: horizon ; so the more you know, the more you will see to be known. our from eight babies 077 To wake a girl love yon, coax her fo had been disposed of. love somebody elge. hoard or appropriate, for the {rees and her age of the garden oflered them freely all their simple wealth. There were yo pock- ets in Adam’s first blouse of skins, fir as yet he had no knife wherewith to ent tobac- co, and wa innocently ignorant of the pos tency of the marvelous weed. Bat when life grew hard and human interests conflict- ing, then the pocket became a developed in- stitution, a receptacle for the means of daily solace, amenity and convenience. It is .a social, not selfish insti it contains snpplies, not hoards. The treasures of a wiser ave buried ina vault; while the sub- sidies of the pocket are appropnately known as change. From its warmest corner comes the penny for the strect sweeper, the toys for the fireside, and the weekly gratuities for charities of every kindly name. Bat the most characteristic deposits are not in money. tract, on, Children prefer the concrete the end to the means. — While the little man wears the dress of bis sister, his pockets like Lers, sro tilled with cakes snd candies. But very soon he seeks clivities, and the sweet meats, not yet ignored, dispute possession inch by inch, with jews-harps, fish-hooks. tops, kites, kite strings and kuives. If he is mechanical, the knife gains a companion in an ivory rule ; if studious, in pencils and paper. : Then comes the belligerent period, when the counuy boy makes investments in pow- der and shot, and the young citizen is an smnteur io pistols and percussion caps..— ‘And a8 war alternates with peace, the toms ahawk with the calumet, so about this peri- to the a a wider range of j od, if at all, is developed a preference for cigars and © fine cut,’ but these are noxious weeds that are liable to choke out ail health: ful growth. Just as rats leave a sinking ship, when these fragrant treasures find their way to the pocket, indignant woths’ leave the young men’s wardrobe in disgust. It will be well if the odor docs not serve to expel wore desirable visitants than these.— | 0 { Then follows the youth's latest pocket com , | nothing to you ¥" | panjon, the watch, pointing with its golden finger the silent moral of the time. For the girl, her carly sugar plums give place to the cheap luxury of paper dolis, soon followed by that fawiliar implement, a thimble, [lard upon thiscomes the seribs bling stage, when the pocket finds room for pencil and paper, for notes of many pages duly crossed, and filled with the fancies and follies, the friendships and fashions of teen. six It is bat o slight change from these romantic missives to those of & warmer hue, the billet doux of boyish admirers to be fol lowed we trust by the firm lines that bear the frank avowa! of a manly love. Yet these last will not long remain in the pocket; these are too precious guests for stich fami}. itr treatment, and shall re ire sanciuary, set apart for the holiest of all.— With love comes sorrow, with sarrow re- ligion ; so when our crowned woman has hidden away ber heart's treasures, hallowed by kisses if not by tears, amid a shower of fallen rosecleaves, perhaps prophetic of their fate, she receives a new friend, a pocket Bible in their place. Couscerated to labor, love and duty, the pocket thus medts the whole round of human needa. Springfield Republican. mv inner A Tae CONTRIBUTION BOX IN CALIFORNIA. —-Those who go around with the contrihu- tion boxes in California churches, plead and argue the case at the pews as they go along. { In one instance the following dialogue oc cured : Parson L. extended the box to Bill, and he slowly shook his head. ¢ Come Will 1am, give us something.’ said the par- £00. « Can't do it,” replied Bill: © Why not? Is not the cause a good one 7 ¢ Yes but 1 am not able to give thing.” + Poli ! Tknow better ; you must give a better reason than that.” « Well I owe ton much money —I must be just before I am generous you know.” ** But William you bwe God a largar debt than anybody else.’” «+ That's true parson ; but then he ain't pushing me like the balance of my eredit- ors I’ any. reba Bees Goop Luek,-- Some young men talk about luck. Good luck is to get up at six o’clock in the wornivg ; good luck, if you had a shilling a week, is to livo uron cleven pence and save a penny ; good luck is to trouble] your Leads with your own business, and let your neighbors alene ; good luck is to fulfill the commandments, and do unto other peo- ple as we wish them to do unto us, They must not only plod but persevere. Pence must be taken care of because they are the seeds of guineas. To get oo in the world, they must take care of home, sweep their own doorways clean, try and help other people, avoid temtations, and have faith in truth and God.— Da Faire's Lecture. =~ You need not tell all the truth unless to those who have a right to know it all. — 1in him to be nterestivg Statements of Jeff. Davie’ Coachman. W asHiNGTON, May 5. The following statement has reached Washington. It is contained in & lctter daa ted yesterday on the Rappahannock : A colored man came in to-day from the other side of the river and reported himself as Jeff, Davis’ coachman. From an exami. nation of him this appears to, be the trath.— lle repeats scraps of conversation which “he overheard whilst driving Mr. and Mrs. Da- vis in the carriage, and between Mr. Davis and those who catae to see him. Mr. Das vis and Geq. J. E. Johnston had some heats ed discussions about the latter's retreat from Mapassas, Davis disapproving of the measure. Henad ordered a stand to be made at Gordonsyille, which Johnston de- clined to do, and offered to resign. ile was even indisposed to go to Yorktown. Mrk. Davis said sh ght this was very bad ug to goand help Gen Magruder. The coachman overheard ths conversation between Gen, Johnston and Davis’ wife, the former saying that if ha had not left Manas