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<as when he did Gen. McClel-
lan would have come out against him and
cut him to picees, .
Mrs. Davis read an arcticle fiom the
Richmond Examiner to her husband, saying
that it was a part of the Yankee plans that
Generals Banks and M'Dowell were to form
a junction in Louisiana or Caroline ectinty
and move down on Richmond. Davis
marked that he thought it was so, but his
generals would take care of them.
The coxciiman overheard a wonversation
between Davis and Dr. Gwin, formerly Uni:
ted States Senator from California. Davis
said thal he hal sent General J. R. Ander.
son fros North Carolina to resist the tharch
of the Federals from Fredemcksburg, and
to delay them long enough for him to see
the probable result of the contest before
Yorktown, so that if it was likly to be un-
suc extricate
his army from the peninsala and get them
into Richmond and ont of Virginia, other
wise they would all be caught. ;
The coachman represents that Mrs. Davi;
said the confederacy was ¥ played out :
that if New Orleans was really taken she
liad no longer an interest in the matter, as
all she had was there, and that it was a
great pity they had ever attempted to hold
Virginia and the other non cotion growing
States. She alo said to Mrs. D: R. Jones;
daughter of Colonel Jas. Taylor, U. S. Cond-
missary General of Subsistence, who was
very anztoas to get to Washington, where
ghe bad one of her children, not to give her-
self any trouble, but stay where she was,
and when the Yankees came to Richmond
she could go. He says Me, and Mrs. Davis
have all the books, clothing and pictures
packed up ready to move of’; that there is
much outspoken Union feeling in Richmond ;
that, huving been a waiter in the hotel, hg
knows all the Union men in the place, and
that the Yankees are looked for with much
pleasupe—more by the whites than even thé
colored people,
Confederate money is not taken when it
can be avoided. Mrs. Davis herself was re-
fused when she offered a ten dollar Confed:
erate note for a purchase. pa,
Many of the Richmond peopl: wish thé
Union troops to come, as they are half
starved. The Bank and Government prop-
erty are all packed up to be removed to
Danville, near the North Carolma line.
Cen. Johnston did not thnk the rebels
would suceced at Yorktown. The coachman
overbieard an officer say that if they failed
at Yorktown and New Orleans they would
leave Virginia.
iia
esstul he would have tune to
i PAP
Prorosep TesTIMONIAL TO TUE (RALLANT
Lizur, Worpen, —Hon. Edward Everett has
written an appeal to his countrymen in be<
half of Lieutenant Worden the brave and
gallant Commander of the Monitor, “during
her fearful encounter with ths Merrimac, ou
the Nmthof March last. After setting forth
in fit end ecifictive terms the services of
Lieut. W., on the memorable occasion, find
paying a justand clequent tiibute to his
courage, derotion and patriotism, Mr. Ev:
erett closes as follows :
4 Under these circumstances, it is respect-
fially snbmitted to the piiblie, whether Lieut:
Worden ought not to receive some solid
mark of their appreciation and gratitude. —
Complimentary swords and snuff boxes;
however gratifying to a deserving officer
will not support a family, or supply the loss
of eye-sight and bodily strength. A few
personal friends of the gallant young man,
taking the above facts into cousideration,
and being of opinion that some generous
and substantial acknowledgment is due to
one who has so freely risked his life in the
cause of hig country, and in 80 doing render-
ed a service absolutely inappreciuble, wheth
er we consider the material interests or the
national honor at stake, have determined to
wake appeal, with that object in view, to
the community. :
«¢ At their request, having been kept in-
formed of Lieut. Worden’s condition by fre.
quent private communications from those
whose great privilege it has been to assist
ir. his care and mister to his comfort Fince
his arrival at Washington, I have taken tho
liberty, of course without any privity or his
part, direct or indirect, to bring the subject
in this way before the public, and [ respects
folly invite the sympathy ard co-operation
of my fellow citizens in all parts of the conn.
But let all you tell bathe truth.
try.