3 CAMBRIA FREEMAN
Vl"vor,tis"iiix lintoH. ;
Ttelara-eaad rellabl- e'reilat lit. ef the t'i
bria FM am coromert,. n U tr lav-ja.-. eon.
(deration of advertisers, whjee larorl W1U t u
eerted at tfc following low rate :
u rablfataed -
irVBrIG, CawvArfa Co., Fa.,
v.v II- A. Mcl'IKK.
1 Inch, s time.
t1 w
f
........
1 " 8 months...
I " months.".,
I " 1 year
a " 6 months...
a " I Tear
S e"m..ntLs...
" I year
J4 eol'B e months...
M " 6 months...
H " 1 year
I 6 months-.
fanteed Circulation - 1.116.
4
UBRIPTIO.I RATE.
It v.
la. :
10 t
c -
St
AO .-.
.11.50
r. casn in """'"'v",. i 75
If not pM "h.!n Tin
If not pd within J'.
If not pd witnin ,
l j-ear 7&
Administrator's and Executor's Notloes x
Audl'or's Notices g x:
Stray and similar Notices t.:
HusineM items, first insertion l'-'c.per line ; eae
lubsequeut tosertlon ha. per line.
''r" K"e'l""i or procrrdmg t any corfHiriitK;
er iDiifiy. ond fo-TOtimniri e"rn'ijTi( r..7 .':'
ficm fo nv molrr of imiled or nd:rll tn(rr i
mtwf Ot pate Jot ai odrerur?aent.
Job riiBTiwo of all kind neatly and noed:t!
ously executed at lowest prices. l.on tycalsrku;
,, ildltloaal per year win oe
'' .., .k. ihore terms be rte-
1 n" 'ypV.Zu wh d-nt consult their
h u sw l'ii rueMin f ootlnit a thoe
' et this fact he distinctly understood
forward.
" fir your paper before yon atop ft. If
L,i'mut. None hut scaiswair do oth-
lon't be Mlwti-life's too short.
H. A. McPIKE, Editor and Publisher.
'HB IS A FBHBMAN WHOM THE, TBDTH MAKES FBKK, AND ALL ARB SLAVES BESIDE.'
81. SO and postage per year, in advance.
VOLUMK XVI.
EBENSBURG, PA.. FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1SS2.
NUMBER 33.
. i II 1
OPUS A.P !
FIEAPEE !
CHEAPEST!
FO. HUNTLEY
HAH NW ON HANI) THE
jST, BEST i MOST VARIED
STOCK OF
invfiH, Tinunre,
isefurnisliing Goods,
'..ir 'an rmiri'l tn any one eftahtlih
i K-r.nlTnlii. His stork comprises
' .SB AND STOVES,
'r.irlr.u." ty!e and patterns :
iMi'ris' Ilnrchvare
.t.rv J!"':''!f5 and of bet 'quality;
CENTERS' TOOLS!
; : sr. ! het In the market. Also, a
rND POCKET CUTLERY.
re Il"nVTnrf. SIlTfr-rialrd
He...! in ! ll!iw Hrc, Wall ln.
r -il.. - id Rl lee. He vol rrr, a n -ve.
Ilnree ."-tine. Kar iron, Rail
.!-.. ;!'. ( nrrliue Roll. Rir.
!! w . liHnllnnf. Steel Sbni.
. ;eilf. ftfta.l Sronp. ;
.. mm noiKE iriv rakes,
H I' Kope nml I'lillera.
, tit,', nt-im. iiti I ii !'! ;n. r,t llarv
. ''.. A'-n. a lur nrttnent of
-.Jl'toratul Stair Oil Cloth.
l'..iTi.i- Oil Cloth.
' I'. I'T.dTl! V.'INIK'W SIHMNf)
'.' l' X f'l " S S : LirrnpnnL AHTON
"' :t- w !-r iMIrv and Table
phii'pt nl
' ' ' ' : I.AM' ri.ASTFH
( ..-,,. " V ' . tl.e .e.t ounllfv :
i VT AKKTY LAMPS hih
.. - . .. , i nr.K I'HfirKS r.i I
- ' v.f su; ..rMtr ware rv.r of- 1
'- tei.-'i iiy; I:ne .f PAINT I
- t' - T.i.f .e.'n.e (-iiiilitv WIN-'-'T-S.
P!NT. TfKPENTiNK.
! I (A t. neth'jr with a lame and com'
(IS, TOUV(( AMI SF.JJAKS,
-.i-.in 1 her nefnl ael nee.) fill
! n : t. .1 yt ,,.z 1 S iven't at ,r en"t
r n-j. n. t iT-.r'h htiyinu. nnd wh:it 1
r nay l-iv lie r'! .1 n at fmjt-
...i.rrv. while tr.-y will tnvarlaWy ho
at luiTToM Pitrci:s!
:r- hid nearly thiiitt years' eypkri
. .i ..! if'"l- in my licj, I am en aided
"-y i''i-r.irntra with rhe irv li.at in the
; n.- : li.f-r;il eh ir- i. "T.iur pnrrnn
i'. I ! -..nrineed that the bet ly alw:iv
-n I M::it It never J to fc"V nn in-
- !Mdy Lee.:-, i. til- pfioe I? loir. H it
, 'i ' - Inet tLat "ueh icunds are alwava
' ;n :.e end.
GKO.
prn 11. ITi.
IITXTLEY.
j.vii
Ell FOR TIIIKT1 -FIVE 1EW
IY BROTHERS
nu fit otur
iaS-l.
RESALE AND RETAIL
OF
-AND-
set Iron Wares
AND DKALE1IM IN
Tin
orifi nnnvivn
l CUU UUUAll.U
STOVES,
IEET ilETALS.
AND
MUM GOODS GENERALLY
ilbinr n
1 a i
P" Vr'.LY ATTENDED TO.
n r f
282 Westinton St.
""'MNSTOWN. PA.
-evim & ye acer
'' ' "'iiTrriM or
::H 23 SHEET-IRON WARE,
'' DKAI.B1UI I!t
HEATING STOVES,
" I'hATenue, . Altoona, Ia.
h' ,t r Opera Boas.
fI AND SPOUTING
- "'.'TIT ATTE!tiKD TO.
' '8 STOTFH rOHTlTLl 0" BAUD.
' 1 l".-tf.
Heading and Lumber.
. rhU r PaII for II l KITDH OF
"' A 1 "',".n,l A"de.l Rrrel.. Bet of
"-" F 7HhJ U.'I:,S1',K T""l""ne
r..htn Hmil Nlnlh vi;r..t.. IMtts-
(5-6. -fin. I
I rfllmniliirv hni.l
J irrade. fx. n't (all to -end to
"r J, for aataloirue. Ill-lm I
i'liTm'l T,rm 'sad M en 'fit
The Secret
of the universal success of
Brown's Iron Bitters is sim
ply this : It is the best Iron
preparation ever made; is
compounded on thoroughly
scientific, chemical and
medicinal principles, and
does just what is claimed for
it no more and no less.
By thorough and rapid
assimilation with the blood,
it reaches every part of the
system, healing, purifying
and strengthening. Com
mencing at the foundation
it builds up and restores lost
health in no other way can
lasting bcneiit be obtained.
79 Dearborn Ats., Chicago, Not. 7.
I have been a great sufferer from
a rery weak stomach, heartburn, and
dyspepsia in its worst form. Nearly
cverytaine; I ate nvo me distress,
and I could eat But little. I hare
tried everything recommended, have
teken the prescriptions of a dor.n
physicians, but got no relief until I
took Urown's Iron Bitters. I fe.l
none of the old troubles, and am a
new man. I ara getting much
atror.ger, aad feel first-rate. I am
a railroad engineer, and bow make
tny trips regularly. I can not say
t-o much in praise of your wonder
ful medicine. D. C. Macx.
Brown's Iron Bitters
does not contain whiskey
or alcohol, and will not
blacken the teeth, or cause
headache and constipation.
It will cure dyspepsia, indi
gestion, heartburn, sleep
lessness, dizziness, nervous
debility, weakness, &c.
Use only Brown's Iron Fitters made by
Brown Chemical Co., Baltimore. Craseect
red Uaca and trads.maxk oa wrapper.
mm
W7I
Absolutely Puro.
The J .'Wd-r never vsrie. A marvel of purity,
strength a. nl whulea.itneness. .'Nl.iro econumlCAl
th.tn the ordinary kind-", mid cannot he sold in
rniiipetiti'iii with the multitude of Inw tet, short
wemht. :iiuni or ph.i.ph iie powders. Sold only in
cam. K.iyal IUkimi I'uwihb Co., pis Wall St.,
New Vurlc. iu--S,'W.-ly.
D3
Hint terriMe -uonrit". fever and auue. and Its
conaener, tohons reni't'ent. In l,lc3 nllectlon of
the toii!Heli, liver and lioweis. prod uerd bymia;
n atic air Hud :. r, are tmth er.idirnte.l and pre
vented hy the ne of llontetter's Stomach Bitters,
a purely reset iiie eilnr. m.lored by physicians,
an ! no re nensivelv pyed a a remedy for the
a hove clrt.s ul ilMorderH, as well as for hi any others,
than any medicine ol the aire.
Kir p ile l y all Iruuui?t. and Dealers generally.
Tn nw rftnwly, orlnftlly comrvnindod
anl IriirolureMl t the mlira) profession,
ul Then to the puMlc fct larn, t-y 8. B.
Mart man, M. 1. HehM prHrHvl it to
ovr paf'-nt wi Th m'-t (rraMfT-
ina; reuiw.
it5eftr-t up.n li.e .Hi-Ui is eiUJiriy un
Mke that of any other remeily, and Is the
'nly nieili' ine iiee-leO In almost everyclls-t-Ai
U wtiii-h flttfih Uhelr. In C onttp
tli n, Dleasenof the Liver ami Ktti
Minai.in ftliould tglTn with it. flBI
Plftf a ta cun.ps-ifu-ijof purely veK'i a., iv
InKrwlleiits, ear h on a, arcnrdtriff trt mwlt
caJ authors, a great rnmely in Itself. MB
Ir. Hrtnnn baa urce-led In extra L
Ir.Bf ftjvl cmlilntnfF th live principles
of these IntrrfUtnts Into one dimple com
pound. whl h perfvetty colnc-Men with the
Vih Mfdicatrix Natvra In fTeryill
"e. ami a cure necessarily follow. 'Ihere
Is not an iT(tn it will p' t r'-h Tor a
a it will not cure. 9XVB3gXV9fgT2E3m
Ask vour (lruKKit fTTr I r. Ti.-i huaii '
rtatnphM -n tho l!lsof Mf, - lr. s B.
Utrtifi:i'i A fv(., rimrn, ., TTi'i rletuia.
tor rilcaaud Pulvlc IlseiiSti, take
OUT ADV d0( P""wel l" liTeatcents. Rome
UALflfil WZU th,ni1 n,'w' s,'il"nirh. The
T n Tkmpi.b of Lit sk: repreentln;
thel'iitt. 1'rei-entand Future. A fine llihograph
In ?lx el 'itriPt tint. Sise 2 I 33. Comment nf
fjY031AC2I &5
n i y ?.? u-u gas
. , I - ... . , i'Miiiiriii.s in
: -7 rriTrnn H.-J t v, I ,r '' 'U 'eautlfully finished work of art. non-
1 LLLLLUri ITi PUfiVlIIP H3 '-' 'rixn convey, the truth c.i Imnmrtallty in an
h '..,r I i'ltU.lllliUj i Hi i nmnlM'sMe manner." I'itt. ciimnii-lR. "A ureat
, ' r. ,r,, ,' I "r- ?ept. X'tb. Addltli n-l ! de.il of ldenlitv snd artlftic t.iyte :mwn In oomoo
J, 10-' ''"t roveii enfc. Cabinet sition. clnnrlv'and irrarel'illy nlnded Into a nar-
' ' eif.e" Hnt'tniti and j nmnious whole " I'ltt.". Kve'ns; Telettraph. dain-
ii'--ree. inu for e I ii I ' T
(S 4 -2m.J W. T. f A05. I'lttsbariih, Pa,
AGENTS Wanted .r"'.,
wi.(h.,m,: r, ' tsooks a. Dimes
IJM'""- """' ' teJ -rrwSei Ubmllm.
eaefc, lurtlMii A C, N. rojr.S St. 1 aHai!.!. fa.
1ST THE JitST.
Gather ttiem close to your loviog heart
Cradle them to vour breast :
They will soon enough leave your broo ding
care,
Soon enough mount vouth'a topmost 9taii
I.tttle'ones In the nest.
Fret not that the children's hearts are Ray,
That their restless feet will run !
There may come a time in the by and by
w nen you 11 sit in your lonely room and sigh
For a sound of childish fun ;
When you'll long for a repetition sweet.
That sounded through eaoh room,
Of "Mother!" "Mother!" the dear love calls,
That will echo lone in the silent halls,
And add to their stately gloom.
There may come a time when you'll long to
hear
The eaeer, boyish tread,
The tuneless whistle, the clear, shrill shout,
The busy bustle In and out.
And pattering overhead.
When the boys and elrls are grown up
And scattered far and wide.
Or gone to the undiscovered shore
Whence youth and aee come never more,
Tou will miss them from your side.
Then gather thnm close to your loving heart,
Cradle them on your breast.
They will soon enough leave your brooding
care,
Soon enough mount youth's topmost stair
.Little ones in the nest.
"KEVE.'SKE IS SWEET."
MOUNTAIN MURDER FROM A POLITICAL
QUARREL A PENNSYLVANIA STORY
OP NEARLY FIFTY TEARS AOO.
On the evening of September 9, 183, two
men were having a fierce and angry dispute
upon the subject of politics In the bar room
of the only hotel it was called a tavern in
those days in the town of Tunkhannock,
ra.
Pitting around them and listening to the
dispute were the landlord, two or three of his
guests, a couple of stage-drivers, the tavern
hostler, and one or two of the townspeople.
the oisputants were, politically, a Whig
and Democrat ; in business one was a ped
dler, who, with his team, and wagon load of
notions, stopped for the night on his way
from Wilkesbarre to Montrose ; the!otherwas
a traveler, who, it appeared, had at previous
times met the peddler at other towns between
Wyominc: valley, on the old post road, and
Philadelphia.
They had been disputing before supper,
and now had resumed it with an earnestness
and vigor which was fast changing thepolit
ical differences of opinion into a personal al
tercation. The peddler, who was a Whig of
the FTenry Clay ttrip. became violent in his
denunciation of Van Buren, free trade and
everything connected with the then dominant
party, and his antagonist, the traveler, was.
equally as bitter in wordy invective against
the aristocratic Whigs, their protective tariff
and all tie principles of the party.
The peddler was George Riker; the trav
eler had made himself known to the landlord
as Amos Elliott.
In the little bar-room gathering was one
man who sat apart, or rather In the corner
near the stairway door, and somewhat in the
shadow of the not very'brightly lamp-lighted
room. Fie was evidently a stranger to those
present, and, according to the landlord's
statement as a witness, was a commercia
traveler for a Philadelphia dry goods house
and had stopped over one stage to transact
some business, and on this occasion he was
waiting for the next stage to go on his way
over the mountains northward to Montrose.
He was apparently rot inclined to be so
cial ; he bad said but little to any one, but it
was noticed that he was intently interested
In the dispute between Riker and Elliott.
At last the poddler became terribly excited,
and frnm'politics launched into bitter per-
j sonalitles, and Elliott retorted equally sav
agely, and at last, jumping to his feet, he
exclaimed :
"1 say that Henry Clay is nothing but a
Kentucky gambler, a trickster ; and those
who believe in him are no better than he Is!"
"You're a liar !" cried the peddler : "and
i your whole I,oeofoco party is made up of the
ruff-scruff, rae-tag and;bobtaIl of the States
the prison birds, the scum of creation and
Kinderhook Van Is the bicuest scoundrel of
the lot."
"Do you call me a prison-bird?" cried El
liott facing the peddler with clenched fists,
his eyes gleaming with passion.
"You're a Locofoco, and that covers the
ground," replied the peddler sturdiiy and
with an equal show of ferocity of purpose.
In a moment Elliot struck at the peddler
with his fist. The peddler pattly evaded the
blow, and then the antagonists clenched, and
there was every promise of a lively If not
dangerous bar-room fieht.
The witnesses to this encounter leaped to
their feet, and two or three of them, includ
ing the landlord, rushed in and with some
difficulty pnlled the beligerents apart. El
liott's face was bleeding.
"Damn yon, I'll be even with you for this
before your a day older, yon infernal thiev
ing peddler."
The peddler's answer was a derisive laugh.
"There'll be one less vote in vour fnartv
next election, you low lived"
The landlord stopped him In his opeech,
and after some persuasion Elliott was order
ed to be quiet.
The stranger, sitting In the shadow, made
no move, as did the rest of the crowd, to in
terfere in the fieht; he simply sat there look
ing on, silent and apparently unconcerned as
to the result of the brawl.
Elliott sat near the bar, scowling grim and
eyeing the peddler as a panther might glare
at Its victim before springing upon it.
"What time will the stage get here ?" said
the stranger to the landloid.
"It's nigh upon eight o'clock. It ought to
hev diiv in before this. You see, after it
gits out of the valley the pullin's hard on the
horses, 'specially as it Is now, after a heavy
rain like we had to-day. But I guess it'll be
along soon. Sometimes they git a little
breakdown, or there's a break in the harness
and makes delay."
Nine o'clock came, and vet the stage had
not arrived, and stage stories occupied the
time of the tavern sitters. A few minutes
arier nine the peddler, taking the hostler's
lantern, started for the stables, which were
at the rear of the tavern ; and separated from
it by a wide yard used for the wagons and
vehicles of travelers.
Elliott, a moment later, went out by the
front door, as was supposed, to look up the
road to catch a glimpse of the expected stage
Fifteen minutes later, accordingto the tes
timony of those present, the stage lamps
were seen in the distance. The arrival of the
btagf, was a dally event, the excitement of
which made the tavern loungers forget every
thing else. As the stage drove up to the
door, Elliott suddeu'y went op to the land
lord and said :
"Landlord, how much is my bill ? I'll take
this stage and go to Montrose to-night."
In the hurry of the moment the landlord
merely named the amount, took the money
and thrust it into his pocket. There was the
regulation change of horses, the nanter be
tween the driver and the hostlers, the usual
getting outof passengers to "moisten up" at
the bar, and the bustle of getting ready to
start.
At ten minutes of ten, as the landlord
averred, the stage was driven off. and rattled
away up the street Into the darkness of the
mountain road to Montrose.
Scarcely was the stage out of sight when
Jack Shaw, the head hostler, rushed Into the
bar-room with blanched face, his eyes dis
tended with terror and trembling in every
limb.
"My God I There's been a murder! Come
quick in the stable yard quick 1"
Those present at once ran out, following
the friehtened hostler, who led the way, hold
ing np his lantern in his quivering hand.
Sure enoneh there was a murder.
There, directly behind his fanclfullv-paint-
ed wagon, In the darkness and on the soft
stable ground, lay the f ast-stiffening form of
George Riker, the peddler, one of his hands
clenching as in a death grin the tfn lantern
he had taken out with him. and his lower
limbs drawn np in his last agonv. The ap
palled group, their faces strangely pallid In
the dim light of the hostler's lantern, looked
down at the motionless form. The face of
the dead man was covered with blood, the
eyes wide open and stonily staring upward.
FTis throat had been cut from ear to ear.
An hour later the body wns lying on a
wooden settee in a little room adjoining th
bar-room. Tpon examination it was found
that the peddler's money, of which he had
considerable in his pocket, was undisturbed;
his watch and all his' valuables were upon his
person as be wore them in liTe. Therefore
robbery was not the moive of the assassin.
Suspicion pointed at Elliott. FTis threats
In his rage at the peddler ; the assertion that
there would be one vote less in his (the ped
dler's) party ; his surly nature, and his evi
dent retention of his anger after f he quarrel,
all indicated to those present that he was the
assassin. Added to this was the now partic
ularly remembered facts that hti had gone
out of the bar-room a few minntps after the
peddler had started for the stables, and when
the stage drove up he had, apparently great
ly excited, paid the landlord his bill and de
parted for Montrose.
In the early morning examination of the
ground where the peddler's body was found
resulted In the discovery of an ordinary
pocket knife, aid on the iittle silvered plate
inserted in the bone handle were the initials
"A. K."
"Why, It's Elliotts knife Amos Elliott,"
was the exclamation, mental or spoken, of
all present.
Tha tavern suffered from no lack of custom
on that day, for it was thronged by the ex
cited townspeople- The sheriff and three of
his deputies mounted horses anrt started In
pursuit of Amos Elliott. Down the rugged
descents of the road, up the winding turns of
the way around the mountains, they rode at
breakneck speed. At Montrose they found
he driver of the coach, some of the passen
gers, and among these the stranger who had
been so quiet a spectator of the bar-room
quarrel, but no sight of Elliott.
Did he come to Montrose ? Yes, the driver
said, fo did the pe.ssengers. The town was
searched. At length he was found at the
house of a Mr. Blodgett, whom he claimed as
a relative, and to whom he was as he claimed
paying a brief visit. ITe was pinioned, des
pite his protestations of innocence and vig
orous denial of all knowledge of the crime,
and taken back, strongly guarded, to Tunk
hannock. Fie seemed from that time until
his trial in October, to be completely broken
in spirit, and at the bar he stood up weak,
pale and thin more like a spectre than a
being of life.
Briefly, the defense offered by his attorney
was that he had always been friendly with
the peddler ; that there was nothing more
than passing anger in his threats; that he did
not again see the peddler after he went to
the stable yard with his lantern, and that he
had loaned the knife found near the peddler
an hour before the political quarrel occurred.
ITe also proved bis life to have been irre
proachable ; his disposition to be peaceable
except when arguing politics.
Despite all efforts, the evidence against
him was unbroken, and when added to this
came the testimony of the sheriff, that when
arrested there was found stains of human
blood upon his coat sleeve, which Elliott
claimed was fiom bleeding of the nose, to
which he was subject the verdict of the jury
was guilty. Elliott was sentenced to be
hanged the following December.
In the latter part of November there came
to the Turkhannock tavern a stage passenger
who was recognized hy the landlord as one
of the guests present in the bar-room on the
night of the murder of thd peddler; he was
none other than the stranger, the dry-goods
commercial traveler, who had sat apart, and
was so notably quiet for one of his class. He
was pale and haggard, as uncommunicative
as ever, and was evidently suffering from ill
ness of some kind, either mental or physical.
He proposed to rest over night, and proceed
on his former journey over his route in the
next day's stage.
In the morning the landlord went to his
room to wake hiro. The stranger his name
was Cartwright was too weak to rise. A
terrible change had come upon him. A phy
sician was sent for immediately, ne pro
nounced the disease to be quick consumption,
and informed the landlord that with his guest
it was a question of but a few hours so far
as death was concerned.
"nave you any relative to whom I can send
word ?" asked the landlord.
"Only one the woman that was my wife.
And thank God she is in a lunatic asylum
hopelessly insane made mad by her own
damnable sin," was the reply made in a low,
broken tone.
"Yon know that the doctor ha but little
hope of your recovery?"
"Yes, I overheard what he said. Send for
the judge of the court or the prosecuting at
torney who held the trial of Amos Elliott I
wivh wish to see them or one of them ?"
The wondering landlord found the attor
ney ; the judge was away on circuit dutj.
"You are Mr. Leban?" said the dying
traveler.
"Yes."
"You believe Amos Elliott murdered the
peddler?"
Beyond a doubt. The evidence was cir
cumstantially the most conclusive I ever
eard."
"Sir, Amos Elliott was not tba murderer.
I came here, kiowJog that I was Bearing my
death, to save him. I killed George Riker,
the peddler, and I do not repert the deed.
Listen. Ten years ago that was when he
first went on the road I kept a hotel in Mid
dletown. Mv wife was young, foolish and
vain. I loved her, despite her faults. This
George Riker stopped in my house frequent
ly ; he captivated my wife and finally she
eloped with him. I swore to have his life,
lie and she disappeared beyond all trace un
til a year ago, and then I heard that on this
road he had resumed his former business.
At the same time I discovered that he had
placed my wife, his mistress, in a lunatic
asylum.'
"From place to place I followed him, seek
ing an opportunity to reap my revenge and
yet escape the punishment of the law. I had
so changed, by growth of beard and mus
tache and age. in the ten yeais that, although
he met me frequently, he did not recognize
me.
"When he went out on that fatal night I
saw my chance. I went out to the front
door, turned the corner of the house, entered
the stable yard and saw him holding np his
lantern at the end of the wagon. I crept
swiftly to his back, caught him by the hair,
pulled his head back, and, with a butcher's
short knife I had carried for months, I nearly
severed his head from his body. All this was
done within ten minutes, and I was back
again at the front door, looking for the stage
and gloating over my revenge.
"I knew the circumstances would point to
Elliott as the murderer. I felt safe from
suspicion. When I grasped Riker and pulled
his head back, and as I drew the knife across
his throat I bisspd in his ear the last words
he ever heard on earth : 'This from John
Cartwriglit !' and I hope he will be haunted
by the same through all eternity."
Afterward Cartwright made the proper af
fidavits of the truth of his statement. The
blood-stained knife, the farewell letter of his
wretrhod wife, left for him when she eloped
with Riker, and a letter from the superin
tendent of the lunatic asylum were found In
his valise, and on the day Elliott was to be
executed he was released and honorably dis
charged. On that same day John Cartwright, the
real asnssln, breathed his last, his dying
words bein, "Revenge Is sweet !"
" Don't Work for Anybody." How
that phrase can mean the same as " works
for everybody," Is more than one nnrter
stfinds, nntll a reference to the duties and
all-day cares of a house-wife and mother ex
plain? the paradox. The Women's Journal
says : "A little boy, on his way to build fires
and sweep offices In Boston, while the stars
were yet In the sky. told the writer: "My
mother gets me np, builds the fire and gets
mv breakfast and sends me off. Then she
gets my father np and gets hisbreakfast and
sends him off. Then she gives the other chil
dren their breakfast and sends them to
school ; and then she and the baby have
their breakfast."
"now old Is the baby?" I asked.
"Oh, she is 'most two, but she can talk
and walk as well as any of us."
"Are you well paid ?"
"I get two dollars a week, and my father
gets two dollars a day."
"now much does your mother get ?"
With a bewildering look, he said "Mother!
Why, she don't work for anybody."
"I thought you said she worked for all of
you."
"Oh, yes ; for us she does. But there ain't
anv money into it."
This wife of a day laborer represents a
large class of hard-working women.
There is more than one "labor of love"
that draws no pay in cash but mankind
would be a much meaner race if all such la
bor were turned into a hireling's tash. The
true wife and mother could not respect her
self if all her services at home were counted
at a price and settled for in day's or week's
wages.
Lodged tn a Bath. A newly-married
pair, who arrived on their hoenymoon trip at
a celebrated Scotch watering-place at a time
when accommodations was at a premium,
had a mattress spread for them by a compas
sionate innkeeper in one of his baths. In
the middle of the night the house was alarm
ed by lond shrieks proceeding from the
nuptial chamber. What was the matter?
Well, this. The young bride, wishing to ring
for a maid, had caught hold of what she pre
sumed to be the bell-rope, and pnlled it
Fmartly. Unhappily for her and her" spouse,
it was the cord of the shower bath over their
heads, and forthwith down plumped such a
deluge of cold water as would throw a
damper' upon the most devoted of honey
mooning couples. Her husband, in dismay,
caught frantically on another cord on his side
of the extemporized couch, but the only re
sponse was an equally liberal deluge of wa
ter, this time boiling hot. The nnhappy pair
then screamed in unison and the bride, in
the excitement of the moment, nttered'sen
timents anything but complimentary to her
fond husband. When the servants came,
they were just In time to rescue the unlucky
pair from drowning, for the room was al
ready half full of water, and the wife was
perched like a monkey on her husband's
back, uttering the most lamentable cries,
while her good man was fumbling about in
the dark, trying his best to find the door.
Thf Razor-Back noo. To the traveler
through Texas one of the strangest and most
peculiar features of landscape is the razor
back hog. He is of Swiss cottage style of
architecture, nis physical outline is angular
to a degree unknown outside of a text-book
on the science of geometry. The country
razor-back prowls aronnd in the woods and
lives cn a corns, pecan nuts and roots ; when
he can spare time he climbs under his owner's
fence and assists in harvesting the corn crop.
In this respect be is neighborly to a fault,
and when his duty to his owner's crop will
allow, he will readily turn in and assist thi
neighbors, even working at night rather than
see bis crop spoil for want of attention.
Crossing the razor-back with the bine blood
ed stock makes but little improvement The
only effective way to Improve him Is to cross
him with a railroad train, ne then becomes
an imported Berkshire or Poland China hog,
and if he does not knock the train off tjje
track the railroad company pays for him at
the rate of $1 per ponnd, for which they are
allowed the mournful privilege of shoveling
the remains off the tract. The ham of the
country razor- back is more juicy than the
hind leg of an iron fire dog, but not quite so
fat as a pine-knot
Everything about a church should be
pure ; but alas ! In many of them even the
glass windows are stained.
THE PICTORIAL PRAYEK BOOK.
BY GEOHOE PARKINGSON.
It was many a long year ago, and the scene
of my story is the office of one of the most
respectable notaries in Paris, Monsieur Du
bois a man of the old school, universally re
spected for his good sense, probity and be
nevolence. There were present, besides the
notary himself, a lady of middle age, richly
dressed ; she could never have been hand
some, but perhaps had her countenance been
less proud or disdainful she would not have
appeared as she did positively ugly ; an In
significant looking little man and a woman,
very shabbily dressed, who sat some distance
from the others, holding the hand of a beau
tiful little boy.
"Her death was rather sudden," said Ma
dame Moranville, the richly clad lady, to the
man in black.
"Yes," replied he coolly; "but no doubt
she was well prepared."
"Have you any idea or the contents of the
will?"
"Not the slightest; but we shall soon
know. Dubois will open it directly."
"Pray, who is that shabby looking woman ?
What business can she have here?"
"Oh! don't you know her? It's the runa
way niece, Marie, who made such a dis
graceful match some years ago with a lieu
tenant in the army a man of low birth."
At that moment Marie approached the
speaker ; she was scarcely middle age, but
sorrow had been beforehand with time in
robbing her cheek of its bloom and her eyes
of their lustre.
"Pray, what brings you here ?" said Ma
dame Moranville, haughtily.
"Madame," replied the poor widow, "I'm
not come to interfere with your rights ; I
know I have deserved nothing from my aunt
but her pardon, and I hope to hear she has
left me that"
"What!" cried Madame Moranville. "par
don to you, the disgrace of your family, who
fled from the protection of your aunt the
best of aunts with a low fellow T"
"Madame, I acknowledge, my fault. I
have been ungrateful and disobedient, I
know it, but my sufferings have been so
great that I hope Heaven will pardon me ;
for I have looked upon the loss of my hus
band, and the poverty and sorrow attendant
upon it, as a puidshment from above."
"And you deserved
"Cease thy reproaches, Madame," said the
notary in a stern voice ; "your cousin's
fault is not so very grievous as to call for
them."
"But why should you insult me with her
presence?"
"She has a right to be here," replied the
notary. "She came at my desire."
ne then proceeded to read the will, in
which, after the usual preamble, the deceas
ed divided the property into three parts.
The first was composed of a sum of eight
thousand pounds In the hands of a notary ;
the second of a furnished seat of some value
and some family jewels ; the third of an il
lustrated prayer-book. The will then pro
ceeded as follows :
"I desire that my property may be divided
into three lots : the first to be the eight
thousand pounds ; the second the chateau,
furniture and jewels ; the third my prayer
book, which is still in the same state as when
I took it with me in the emigration during
the reign of terror. I pardon my niece,
Marie, for the sorrow she has caused me ;
and, as a proof of my sincerity, I mention
her in my will. My beloved cousin, Madame
Moranville, will have the first choice, my
brother-in-law, Monsieur d'Arlemont, the
second, and Marie the last.
"Ah I my sister-in-law was a sensible wo
man," cried M. d'Arlemont
"Yes," said Madame Moranville, tittering,
"she has given a proof of it Marie will only
nave ti,e prayer-book."
The notary, who seemed scarce able to
contain his indignation, interrupted the tit
terer. "What lot do you choose, Madame?" said
he.
"The eight thousand pounds."
"Madame Moranville, you are rich, and
your cousin Is very poor; cannot you leave
this lot and take the prayer-book that this
this" he seemed for a moment at a loss for
an expression "this strange will has put in
the balance with the other lots?"
"Are you joking. Monsieur Dubois? or
don't you see my honored cousin has made
her will with the express intention that her
prayer-book should fall to Marie, who was
to have the last choice."
"And what do you conclude from that?"
"1 conclude that she desired her niece
should understand that prayer and repent
ance were the only saccors she ought to ex
pect in this life. Ah ! she was a saint, that
dear woman."
"Saint, quotha !" cried the notary indig
nantly ; "may Heaven defend me from such
saints ! An unforgiving, unnatural woman !
I am wrong. I do her injustice, ner Inten
tion, I am sure, wastoive yon and Monsieur
d'Arlemont an opportunity of doing a good,
a noble action by dividing tha property
equally with her poor niece."
"Monsieur d'Arlemont will do as he pleas
es ; I repeat that my choice is made."
"And so is mine," said M. d'Arlemont;
"I shall take the chateau and all it contains."
"In that case." said the notary addressing
Marie, "I can only rive you, my good Ma
dame Le Feyre, tie prayer-book."
She took the book and pressing it to her
lips, she held it to her son's, who cried out
with childish delight at the sight of its richly-gilt
coyer; "O mamma ! let me have it"
"Yes, my boy, you shall have it ; ft will be
the only legacy I can leave yon. But never,
never, will I part with it Thank heaven,
she has pardoned me. She has said it, and I
know she was truth itself."
The notary turned away his head.
"Don't go, Madame Le Feyre," said he ;
"I must speak to you by and by."
At tnat moment the boy, in playing with
the book, unclasped it, and cried out : "Oh,
mamma, look at the pretty pictures. But
why are they all covered over with this nice
thin paper?"
"It is to keep them from being soiled."
"But why put six papers to everv picture ?"
nis mother looked ; she ottered a piercing
cry, and fell fainting Into the arms of Mcn
sieur Dubois, who said to those present :
"Let her alone, it is nothing ; she will not
die this time. Give me that book, child ;
yon may Co mischief to it"
The two rich legatees went away, com
menting not very charitably on Marie's
swoon and the evident interest the notary
tooK in her.
About a month afterward they met Ma
dame Le Fever and her son. both well
dressed, riding In s very rretty carrls jr wtth
two horses. That unexpected sight led them
to make inquiry after her, and they found I
that she had purchased a handsome house,
and was llvivg in a quiet but very good style.
Thunderstruck at this intelligence, they
went together to question the notary. They
found him at bis desk.
"Do we interrupt you ?" said the lady.
"I am not particularly busy ; only making
out an account of bank stock I have just
bought for Madame Le Feyre."
"And for heaven's sake where does It
come from ?"
"Why, don't you know?"
"No; how6houldI?"
"Did you not see what was in the book
when she fainted ?"
"No."
"Well, then, I must tell 30U that the prayer-book
contained sixty engravings, and each
was covered by six bank notes of fifty
pounds each !"
"Good heavens I" cried the gentleman.
"Oh ! if I had but known !" said the lady.
ONCE A Kltf, SOW A MISER.
At Pueblo, Colorado, there is a man who
once reigned as a king. This royal person
age came to the State penniless a few aonths
since, and, strange to telate, here he met an
old companion who was with him when he
ruled a kingdom and held dominant sway
over one of the richest little principalities in
the world. He Is an A merican by parentage
Col. A. B. Steinberger and has relatives
living here.
His old companion-in-arms is Mr. Syl.
Wright, well known in Denver, and a wan
derer w ho has visited all the Inhabited por
tions of the globe. The story of Meinberger,
as told by Mr. Wright to a Tribune reporter,
forms a chapter unequalled in fiction, and
shows what a man can do when he is blessed
with plenty of self-assurance and reliance.
Some twenty years ago Steinberger, then in
Chili, which he had reached from San Fran
cisco, sailed in a yacht across the 6miling
Pacific, intending to reach New Zealand
and Australia in the frail craft. Directly on
their route were the Samoan Islands, one of
the largest and most important groups in the
vast expanse of water. There they landed
to supply their larder with provender and
make necessary repairs before proceeding
further on their hazardous voyage.
They wero so KiDdly received by the na
tives that their stoppage was prolonged, and
ere long they had grown so attached to their
new quarters that they refused to go further.
The natives, from sailors who had previous
ly landed, had learned of the republic be
yond the seas, and had a faint conception of
its power and grandeur, and they wished to
place themselves under the protection of so
great a country. They feared they would
meet the fate of their more barbarous neigh
bors, the Fiji islanders, and be placed under
British rule, and such a condition of things
they did not at all relish. They communica
ted their plans to S'einlerger, who. or
course, heartily approved of them, and at the
same time saw he might become the repre
sentative of a great government, as also the
real ruler of one of the garden spots of the
earth.
Before these plans were fully matured,
however, Steinberger had been in the coun
try over three years, and had taken unto
himself a wife from among the natives, and
had greatly increased his power and prestige
in the land. Finally he commenced his
preparations for a return to the United
States. His yacht was rebuilt and enlarged,
and it was not long before he was once again
in his native land, and was presenting his
claims to General Grant, who was favorably
impressed with the idea, and the necessary
credentials and papers of authority were
made out and given to him.
Armed with them, he returned to the
Island Paradise and his wife. Arrived there.
j he placed the islands under the courted pro
tection of the republic that is, he pretended
to do so but in reality he assur.ied complete
control of the islands, and ere long.he was
crowned king, and his power was supreme.
He made a great many improvements in the
islands, all of which were greatly admired
and appreciated by his subjecs. However,
it must be said that these benefits were in
troduced merely from selfish motives, for as
the kingdom increased in wealth and pros
perity, so did his coffers grow heavier with
gold, and his affluence became more and
more felt. An unlucky day came, however,
a day fraught with political disaster and fi
nancial ruin. One day there sailed into the
harbor or the capital an English man-of-war,
with orders to take possession of the islands
and convert them into marine stations for
that great maritime power. In short order
Steinberger was deposed, bis kingdom up
set and his treasures taken from him. The
English took possession, and history tells
what has since occurred in the island.
However, that was not the last of Stein
berger. Insult was added to injury on the
island, and when, finding things too hot for
him, he sought to make his escape, lie found
mat nis yacht had been stolen, and nowhere
could he find it, thongh he went to the eev-
eral islands assisted by his native friends.
He remained on the island for some time
from necessity ; but finally a trading vessel
came along, on which he took passage for
Melbourne. There he strayed about frr
some time, and one day while strolling on
the docks with one of his old trusty lieuten
ants, Mr. Syl Wright, mentioned above, he
saw his yacht anchored out at some distance.
As several men could be seen on board, no
effort was made to retake It After a time
he again returned to America, where his
identity was for a time iost. The next heard
of him, be was in Leadville. duringthe early
days, engaged in mining, ne made some
money there, and has since oeen engaged in
mining in different parts of the State, and is
now east, negotiating for the sale of some of
his property. Denver Tribune.
A Very Curious Riddle nere Is a cu
rious old stoiy that is something like a puz
zle : A crocodile stole a hahy, "in the days
when animals could talk," and was about to
make a dinner of it. The poor mother beg
ged piteously for her child. "Tell me one
truth," said the crocodile, "and you shall
have your baby again." The mother thought
it over, and at last said : "You will not give
it back." "Is that the truth you mean to
tell ?" asked the crocodile. "Yes," replied
the mother. "Then by our agreement I keep
him," added the crocodile; "for if yon told
the truth I am not going to give him back,
and if it Is a falsehood.thenlhavealsowon."
Said she : "No, yon are wrong. If I told the
tmth you are bound by your promise; and,
if a falsehood, it Is not a falsehood until after
yon have given me my child." Now the
question Js, wb9 won?
THE liL AVON
WHY BOT6 DKsF.RT THE KL'KAL HOME ASL'
FLEE TO 1 HE CITY.
Numerous writers have ben heard frcii.
upon the question of why hoys leave te.
farm, and the suggestion has t-een mmlf t?
one reason is that the risiug gneratiou Is
coming depraved. This is i;ot true. TI rt
do not leave the dear old f.rm, where indus
try and virtue have their ettrnal abiding
place, to mingle wi;h the njtd folMes of c'
lire. Boys do not desert the quiet hi : -stead,
and the fond pmei.U. wh.e
been devoted to their children, for th r. r.
son that they want to mingle In ti e i' .
whirl of metropolitan life and becon- 5: nik
in business and Immortal society stai 1.
No farmer boy ever forgot in his s" ;v-e:-ful
years the quiet home, the sturly lab.,:
the numberless attractions of that old fa-u,
aud during the cares and pe: tb y.'t f
commercial or professional ife In k g-:
city there is forever In his heart that pict:.:o
of contentment aud rest, that haven sh- j:.
from the storm-tossed billows, of uncern s
trade and the snares of an artiSaial ei.-l-ence.
Other reasons as varlM as tho hunvo
mind lie at the bottom of this dlssatKfacti u
The same causes, perhaps, never led d fl" -r-ent
boys to desert the rural home and flee t
the city.
We can state why we left the oldfartu I.' :
would contribute anything to t-cieuee c: a, J
in settling a long agitated question.
Our last season on the farm was a.i ti.f 1-
luuaie one. 1 r.e irosl rtidn t get out ! t
ground till hay ing, and just as the seas -.
opened, the old bay mare became a paret.'.,
and the spring plowing had to be done
a fractious pair of mules. We had just b--come
attached to these mules and felt a
lnendly interest In them, when a little in i
dent occurred which changed the whole cur
rent of our life.
We decided one day to reach the iron gtr
mule in order to give bim chic and tone. It
would take too long to give th particul.-.r
of this occurrence, but suffice it to say t:.f
during our convalescence we .eiit into to- a
and secured a position there. We did i -.t
plunge Into the false gaiety of town becau-;
we loved it or because we shunned th?
erancalmand holy hush of nature in t'...;
beautiful valley where we had spent ra;: ;
happy years. Tho.-u who ae. use ui of V.tt
do us an injustice and cas upon e an insin
uation which is 111 deserved uu.'air.
The life of a farmer boy is clou led witu
many nameless annoyances of which the
great heart of traffic wots not. lie who h
not passed through it. ouirht not to r e
about i'., for he cannot dval with the trou
understanding. If you have been a Ir
mer's son and have swung an old s-jyihe a .
the forenoon and com. at noon, hot andhu'.
gry. weaiing an old pair of overa'ls, of whi 1.
you are a little doubtful, aud an open-bar : -ed
shirt with your sun burned soitial column
sticking out of it cleir down 1.. tho wai-v
band, and found on your arrival a sweet lit
tie city dumpling dressed In cool musl' ,
thereto greet you arid look y..u ovtr, a- !
smile at your costume and appetite, you cn :
say something, perhaps. If you i.a"-e bt ; 1
your aching form over a tv !ici. field .
day, feeding Paris green to the vfrack.i.s
potato bug, anil tin n iiiiiV. I tni: -ows, a i
labored with a primary chiss of nine calve-,
trying to teat h lhe:n how to drink, t i l exp.
rienced the rural joy ot being buti-d ove
into the cucumber patch by earl o:-e of then.,
and then crawled into your tn -1 with sr:
peeled nose and blistered hat Is at n :eht. y 1
know a farmer boy's connii tiiii.i.i with 1
ture. It is true that machinery in "very
partment of agriculture has . -i. a charm
it 011 paper, but it still l.as i s d-?wbacl.
and Its sorrows.
God foroid that the n regies ' o us'-:
around the after life of a l..i 1.. . r sr 1
be lost or eradicated, bi t there .. . 1 ,
cidents of our career on the ft-m that w
endeavoring with great real to f-rgt-t. " v
crmie up before us yet sometime, m. " i . -deatf
hours of the quit' 1 zh. we scet, t .,
once more kicktd through tMe. b..r;, d ...r
that hoary old mule, or in our '.r a. us we - -out
in the midst of haying, p'tlchn.o the f ...
grant grass and rattlesnake? r. t - i. ni '
bees, and crickets up into the .'m-: :u
as we did in our tmyLnod days.
We like to hear the curfew t.v.l :tie hou f
departing day. and we also !:&. t.i set; r
lowing herd wind siov.ly nVr th- lea. b
that road huncer for life !n the ln: h-rve-fields
and the thrill and exo'tuient of d w
ling away out time around a tiires'niug m
chine is gine.
Who will say that it Is because we shu..
the purity and honesty, and industry r;d $1
per day of the farmer's life? I. t I 'm wl
accuses us of that, step into the
office and we will give him oir r- 1 -
j which lack of space at this time fs; .i J s
j Pill Nyk.
Be of Goon Cheer. A nan -hm a
j quires a habit of giving way to tetissi..;
i is on the road to ruin. When troub e come
! upn ,m, instead of rou;nn hi-. r-nerge V
combat it, he weakens, an. h:s fscnitiej" Cr.w
j dull, and his judgment beeom"s ohsetned.
j ard ne s5nks in t,ie 5,oucn ot d.-spr. And
if anybody pulls him out by msln f rce, and
places him safe on solid gtotini, be stands
there dejcted and discouraged, 11 .! s prett".
sure to waste I he means 01 heip 1 'at hav
been given him. How differ; : t i i.- withth.
man who takes a cheery view of h-'e even a :
its worst, and faces every iil wi.h ::"vir',iin.
pluck 1 He o:ay bf sweiit away by . ov'
whelming tide of misfortune, but r.e iinve
struggles for the shore, snd i - er ih ly '
make the most of the Y.- 'n thai ray ! g'v-
him. A cheerful, hopeful, Cfti.-v.. "it dis
position is an invalunble trai rf t ' aracter
and should be assiduously eu'tiv.-iej.
PtiTalelnns W 1 11 e .f the Opnrl- ,-p..
New York T'hysictsn vay tnat ; sre
been using Speer's Port (I:;. r.e 'A'r e jnr
Wine Bitters in their pmcuce f.-r y---r, t
the entire satisfaction of their n:itients and
themselves, and tat-" grevt 1 i.-a-ur.. in rec
ommending them to the piio1'" as Iwing all
that Is claimed for tlieni, ad. in fnet. the
most reliable they can find It l eM.ecia.Hy
recommended forconunpiives, the aged and
for females genera 1 1 v. Ftisrichbi oi.i. from
the Iron in the soil from which the ires grow,
tor sale by E. James. E:.nsburg.
The owner rf a pair of hrlgM. ryes aid
that the prettiest corupl;m-nt she ever re
ceived came from a child of tour yrs.
The little fellow, after looking intrntly at
her eyes a moment. Inquired rslrelv, "'Are
your eyes new ones ?"
"Mamma, I'll be a preae' . r wh 1 I g-ow
up, "said Freddy. "Ain't ct bialns f r"m,ht"
grunted a cynical old tit cle. wl:" V -!en
to CongTess." "Then mr'il make . i-'ress-man
ot him, my daV "rrnlrd the mother.
i