Iu
■ IN
I ''■ , ' ' '
1 ,"' ' ' . ■ "OUR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS BE RKJHT—BUT RIGHT OR WRONG OUR COUNTRY." ' ' , ,
M‘-■ ' - ' »
I -o benefit herself. ' . ' ' IT"
[ oucrince of your f ~ - <»eai 1116. Habits e
-r millinery stoeh Histories,in the world.— , h ‘”
as you would * -awards a fow nights ago, in **
perfect t" rain, up South street, we o*"*
I - A lemalos, composedly moviup- •
.. if pai'a -within * l ’’ ... aer the shelter of n wide s-'-
...a Fifty‘Cents, if- h' lo parties wore a -
-I'ests 'tdrths Willi- irionfi the ’1 ho latter is aim*
• »ry instance. . noard the pro- t* lo former'
. rt , r't“ S,lturd^ In
- 1 ..cable, to- convey them bv
Anv-EBTisisj’- _ a embarkedfor tietro'*
pot exce- ~is arranged on;, deck for t>
..nation- -all went alone*
Sunday morning, wb*
~i it to eight miles oft'-'
er, where ’’
„avioe then, and his h
_,.ant ! AVhat guaran
,i- treatment now V
. uewed out cisterns. '*
-.at have held now'
-, nor withhold a dm-
Don’t you see I - ’
.lines expectancy’’
-1 How I ly. * n ~
r
aiing you oan
,n think tit and :
. sudden return
xJT. John, l if
6 tip these cloth'
. ‘ Let Mrs. M”
I ho said. ■- ’
...rangely . ‘ I
years;
far more toner*
.d wot with tee
. oo sat there- '
. O’er his. (-• *
'Thou- 1
YOL. 50.
AMERICAN VOLUNTEER.
PUBLISHED EVERY* THURSDAY MORNII?*} : ’l>Y
JOHN B. BRATTON.
T BE M 'S'
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t‘o ‘ih every instance. No subscription dis
continued until all arrearages arc paid unless at
t{jo option of the Editor.
~ f Advertisements —Accompanied by tho cash, and
I'jol exceeding one, square, will be inserted three
.times &>r One Dollar, and twenty-five cents for each
additional insertion. Those of a greater length in
‘proportion.
Job-Printing— Such ns Hand-hills, Posting-bills,
Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &c. Ac., executed with
ccuraoy and at the shortest notice.
fMml
jige m YOUTH.
Spring was busy in the woodlands,
Climbing up, from peak to peak, •
As an old man sat and brooded,
With a flush upon his bhcek.
-Mony years pressed hard upon him,
And his living friends wore few,
'And from out the sombre future
.. Troubles drifted into view. .
Thoro is something moves bh strangely
In old ruins gray with years j
Yet there’s something far more touching
Ja an old face wet with tears.
And ho sat there,, sadly sighing
O’er his, feebleness and wrongs,
Though the birds outside his window
Talked of summer in their songs.
But, behold ! a change comes o’er- him
Where ate all his'eorrows.now?
Could they leave his heart as quickly
As tlio #^ioom' Clouds lytt his brow ?
? TTp the green slope of his'gardon,
Bust’the dial, 1 lib saw run ‘
Throe younggirls, with bright eyes shining,
Like their brown beads, in the sun I.
There was Fanny, famed for wisdom
Ami fair Alice, fumed for pride;
And 000 that coivld “ My uncle,”
'And said little else beside.
And that -vision startled memories,
hid all scenes of strife,
•Sending Hoods of hallowed sunshine
Through the ragged routs of life.
Thou they took him from his study,
Through lung lanes and tabled bowers,
iOut into tbo shadod Valleys,-
Tliohly tinted o'er with flowers. -
.And. ho blessed their merry voices, .
Ringing round him as he went,‘
Fur tho sight of their wild gladness
.Filled his own heart withconlont.
V- • 11»ftt
Far-otf uieado>ys l>iptured
Anil old woods in which he,wandorod A
iEhibekuo wthehamb-of care;/.
•And ho said':* “ Therfe'uughl.Tacoß
Take the whiteness from'one's hair I”
DEAD' LOV-B.
Wonro face to face, and betweon'us hero
Is. the love wo thought could never die,
Why has it only lived ia your ?
Who has-murdered it —you or , I v ?
Mo matter who—the deed is done
By one or both, and there it lies f
The smile from the lip forovorgOno,
" And darkness over tho beautirul eyos.
Our love is dead, and our hope is wrecked,*
. So what does it protit to talk and rave,
Whiethef it perished by my neglect.
Or. whether year cruelty dug its grave;
Why should you say that I am to blame,
.Urwhy should I charge the sin to you?
Our work is before us all the sa.ub,,
And the guilt of it lies between us two.
Wo have-praised our love for its beauty and graced
Now we stand hero, and hardly dare
To turn the face-cloth back from the facoj
Aud'sedthu thing that.is hidden there.
Yet look I ah, that heart has boat fts last,
Anddhe’boautiful life of our life is o’er,
And when wo have buried and loft the past,
• Wo two together can walk no more.
You might stretch yourself on the deadband weep
And pray as the JPrqphetiprayed, in pain j
But not like him could you break the sleep,
And bring the soul to tlio clay again.
ItB head in my bosom I can lay.
Ami shower my woo there, kiss on kiss,'
But there never was resurrection day.
, Xu the world for a love so dead as this J
Ami, since wo cannot lessen the sin
By mourning o’er tho deed wo did,
Bet us draw tho winding shoot up'to tho chin,
Ay, up till tho death-blind eyes aro hid I
—arii* :
Prom Peterson's. Magazine.
MRS. DR, JOlltf’S SH4»RV;
I wns tired, worried and overheated. Cross,
a natural consequence, and, of course,
itw.as just then Dr. John took: it into his head
to come into the kitchen, although he had
boon to the house (er five consecutive days to
boo his patient, as I knew, without once in
quiring .for me. The knowledge of this only
.deepened my vexation, and darkened the
'frown on my brow.
I I dropped the sheet I was wringing out of
too hot suds, and set him a chair.
| Good morning,’ he said, pleasantly ;
wing now the matter ?’
. I answered, shortly. 1 Why do you
■ 1 1 thought -I saw a now wrinkle in your
I'n * lo . re pl'° | l> smiling.
. ‘Oh ! it isn’t uew troubles that bring them,
sr > muuh ns it is the old worries over nod
otteTn repeated. Besides, I’m growing old 1’
_ then went back to my washing.
■Jo epite-uf the sight which unconsciously
°jompanied m y last remark, my tones re-
Pcllod sympathy, and so the doctor understood
ho i a daily paper Irom his pocket,
' back in his chair and road, or pre-
C* t,J - After watching him a little from
cornors of my eyes, I was satisfied it was
c I 0 I lre tonoo ; and.-as-I finished the lastnr
‘D- t' 1 '' 1, preface—;
>(lvi 0 £ > ln ' * am sorry I didn’t take your
*!>■'« d' o millinery interest-?’ ho asked,
ol inn 1 . raiHl »g his eyes, for ho was a (ban
1 Y iact, or rather discretion, ’
kcrhn H ’ wearily; ‘I ’m a perfect slave
ly, ( u a for any one; a woman espooiai-
Oae aw,? n , a . °r candidly before she gives up
uatlon whether she is
really about to benefit herself. You made as
great a sacrifice of your freedom, selling out
your millinery stock and coming to live here,
as you would have done had you married a
perfe.it tyrant.’
A sunset flush passed over his face.’ I
busied myself about the basket. I wondered
if I had been right—if he really did-know of
the offer I had rejected when I made the dis
posal and sacrifice, as he termed it. Ah Ihe
little knew how true it was.
‘ Yes,’ I said, ‘ my life in my establishment
was freedom compared with this drudgery.
I liked my work—l was strong and healthy.
iVow my waist is spanable almost with my
two hands, and see how thin my arm isi
Don’t I look like washing?’
‘ I heard the sound of the treadmill,'’ ho
said, indicating'the washboard, with a nod,—
‘ I have listened to your weary footsteps day
after day, and pitied you without seeing how
I could help—at least, in any way I hat you
would consent to.’
Unmistakable eommisseralion of my.deso
late condition rested in the glance of his kind
eyes on mo., Soft pity smoothed out the lines
in his face. The kind, true mao I Uow I
had misjudged him !
I will consent to anything you oan pro
pose—anything you think lit and proper,’
said I„ with a sudden return to the old time
trust in Dr. John, l if .you will wait till I
hang tip these clothes.’
‘Let Mrs. Myson hungup her own clothes,’
ho said, indignantly, ‘ ion were up all night
watching, weren’t you ? Wasn’t tlmt onough
without putting you to washing this morn
ing? Sit down and listen to mo.’
t wiped my haiiJs and sat down, waiting
patiently one, two, three minutes; but still
the doctor was silent. He twis ed his watch
chain into an incomprehensible'knot, and
then set himself slowly and deliberately to
undo it; ' And when this manoeuvre.was exe
cuted, he looked at his watch and compared
it with the gossiping. little clock on the man
tle. '
‘ After all, I don’t know,’' he said, looking
up, ‘ but it iiiight.be as well for you to hang
up the clothes. It isn’t as iate as I thought
—only half-past eight. You have been ex
peditious in spite,ot your weariness.’
. I took up.the basket sadly, and went put.
‘ No,’ I said, energetically, ‘ it is impossi
ble to suggest anything that will alleviate nry
iprlorn condition.’
My. hopes, excited for.an instant, fell into
Arctic water, and froze, immediately. .1 could
not work very fast, I was so utterly wretch
ed, so it was some tithe before I returned to
the house. .There I found the doctor had set
all the chairs in order, -stiff and .angular
against the wail, and was just comnieuciug
operations with the broom.
‘.I thought I would help you,’ ho said, in
answer to my surprised exclamation. ‘ Part
of my project consists in your leaving ttiis
place immediately, and I know everything
•would have to be arrange i in perfect order
beloro you would consent to this-hecessary
and initiatory stop.’
;-• i,oayo tUis-pluee I* - ■ •
W’Berew’tas l-to,gw?^~T6’ : tUo"poor.ho'u3o'l
My amazed , look.asked and obtained a par
tial answer.
• ‘ You are to go see a ,patient of mine—with
me. I have arranged it with Mrs. Myson.
So get your bonnet and shawl, as I Want to
he off immediately,’' ' . .
1 went without farther question.
The capacious two. : wheeled vehicle—none
of the little pill boxes country doctors so
much affect—held ample space for two, and
w hirled us miles away into the open country
before I had recovered from niy delight and
amaze at the, beauty of the 1 October morn
ing ; for in the town the sun bad dried up
the raid of the night previous, and the streets
were dry aud dusty as ever. Out hero the
drops still glittered in by places, aud a cool
breeze swept up the road as Ur. John slight
ly drew, rein at the entrance to a grove, of :
pines.' . . |
The eye was satiated with light.and dolor,
for the sun shone broadly, and the forest trees
which lined the country road with their dark
greun frontage,, Jit up here and there with
vivid flames, looked like the victims of an
auto-da fe going to their burning. The pines
were a contrast, with the.r uniform color and
dense suade.
peace overall!’ said the Doc
tor, breaking silouoe. ‘How tranquil the
still serenity of these pines after the riotous
baohanal orgies of those walnuts and ma
ples. It is like coming from some high ear
nival masquerade, and sitting down to read
godly John Fletcher in the brooding firelight
of home.’
it was a picture of peace. The road was
seldom traveled but by laden farm wagons ;
the silence ot centuries dwelt in the.tree tops,
and moved down the endless opening aud
closing vistas, a falling cano or nimble step
of wood squirrel, making by contrast the si
lence more still, the stillness more profound.
The carriage rolled slowly over the path,
where scant grasses grow:.; the trees clasped
hnndacbovo our heads, auddropped thogloom
of night about us. I was growing forgetful*
of surroundings, inhaling the eternal per.
fume distilled from the pine’s green tresses,
‘ the .garnered balm of inoense-breathiug
morns.’ I grew intoxicated—it always af
fects me so ; I cannot explain how, any more
than I can why I should wake up crazed and
almost gibbering when the raoou shines full
upon me slumbering.
1 thought it was having its.effect upon the
doctor, too,; he lapsed into silence—looked
dumb, and, lest we should both turn maniacs
together, I ventured to waken him from his
trance. The horse just thou caught a glimpse
of a sunshiny road discernible at the end of
the grove, pricked up his cars and moved
faster.
A
Doctor;’ said I, ‘ your patient will die be
fore you get there 1’
He looked down at mo smiling, glanced at
the trees on either side, .shook hims-lf free
from fancies, and replied—
* No; he is bettor. I came out to minis
ter to a mind diseased, but I recollected the
idd adage, ‘ Physician heal thyself 1’ and
have been trying to gotrid of a morbid growth
of melancholy, which has weighed upon my
spirits this ‘ year and many a day.’ Retro
spection is not in general good for heart com
plaints, but it has cured mo, I think.’
He smiled down at me again, cracked the
whip.at the .horse’s sense of hearing rather
than at his hide, and we were whirled at our
old pace out of the forest.
The sun shone down on the stubbled fields,
sentineled here and there with maples in
zouave uniforms of rod and yellow, a gray
ola rock, plumed and boarded, with moss,. lift-,
od his head like a tail grenadier in a distant
meadow. Thistle down, silver winged and
buoyant, floated away in the still air, and
some lacy winged swallows chirped.and go -
-eiped the opinions ah- it their southern flight
under the eaves of rod farm houses. In the
distance stood Morton, the village wo had
left; a a leop in the sun, its walks -nod streets
lined afld guarded by the maples id their rod
array.
li locked bo like tranquillity, repose alike
‘ any-
for mind and body; 1 sighed thinking of the
home which awaited me there. There was
no help for it, but out of the very depths of
despair seemed born a sort of courage which
nerved me to take my fate into my own
hands—to turn a destiny of quiet suffering,
"by the alchemy of the will into the strength
of hopeful endurance. But I would try first
if there was a chance for daylight, down here
in the shadows. ‘Deeds are born of resist'
mice,’ thought I; ‘ passivity corrodes nerve
like canker.’ So I spoke—
‘ Dr. John, two years ago you obtruded
your advice, I thought. I resented the inter
ference. But I see ray error now. J. wish
I had followed a part of your counsels. If
you have a plan fur me, will you toll it to
me.?’
‘But you scorned my advice then, and
called me a perfect tyrant ! AVhat guaran
tee have I of better treatment now ?’
‘ If I have hewed out cisterns, broken cis
terns that have held no water, do not mock
me, nor withhold a draught if you have it."—
Don’t you see I am dying 'with, the thirst of
expectancy ?’ I clasped my hands nervous
ly. ‘Oh! Dr. John, you do not know how
much I need sympathy 1’
‘ Poor child!’ he said. 'Jennie, lam go?
ing to do what I have always said no man
with a proper self respect would, do. Noth
ing except the torture of seeing the woman I
love undergo such treatment as you do would
ever have opened my lips again. Have your
changed circumstances made you repent the
decision of two years age?’
" Selling my establishment? Yes.’
' That was not what Imeant,’ he said.
‘ As for the other part,’ I replied, ‘ rather
poveuy. starvat’on and suffering of any kind
than a marriage with one whom I cannot
love,, nor even esteem I’
He looked as if I had said enough, and I
did-speak strongly, for I was grieved and
hurt. Did he not intimate in one breath that
ha loved me, and the next offer me t.hat man
as a relief from my self-imposed servitude ? .
‘Jennie,’ he returned, in a subdued voice,
‘ I wish you could iind some one you consid
ered worthy of our love. I was rash to arro
gate so much to myself; but I hardly thought
i hud fallen so entirely from your respect.’
* Bespedt lor you, Dr. John 1 That is too
cold a word. There is no earthly friend
•whom ! reverence and value so highly.-; but
not even my ; ,'ustin, you c old make mo love
Everitt Ward/ . '
■‘ Everett Ward! What has lfedo do with us ‘
‘•X am sure I don’t know,’ I replied.
1 When you advised me to marry him, ,tv.
years ago, I told you it would be impossible
lor mo'to think of marrying such a perfect
tyrant. I called him eo, not you—anil .now
this return to the charge is Ossa on Pelion
piled.’
‘ You ;are the moat difficult case I have
f.mnd yet to.manage/ the doctor said subdu
ing some'fltrong'emotimu ‘You are laboring
•under a strange,’ hallucination/
‘I think the same might be said of your
self,’ I . etorloiiL '
* Perliap« bd. A.nd itdS that which prompts
iniiridbrpik (ryua c -
like,you-know/ .
‘.Bin/ persisted I, *1 will hear nothing
of Everett Ward/
‘You ahull not from mo,. *T am delegate
for no man. What can you mean, Jennie ?’
1 That I rejected him two years ago. That
I still more decidedly resent such interfe,
enco now. If I could only have got away.—
How hateful they all appeared to'me I'.
.* ( don't .understand yet, Jennie,' the doc
tor said.. ‘Wh your father died, and leT
you penuileas b every one admired the strength
of mind with which you threw scruples.aslde,
and set earnestly and resolutely to work,- I
don't know'which was rtho- strongest feeling
with me—admiration, love or pity ; for I saw
the motive, dear, and felt how useless your
•labor, would be—for I knew Eh’s extravagant
habits pretty thoroughly. When he married,
and I .heard from his own lips that you
thought of selling out and going to live with
| him. I could no longer keep silent, You
i.kridw how I tried, to dissuade you from it.—
It was then I asked you to oome and live by
my fireside—to be my cherished darling, ns
you had been my hope, my star. I remem
ber I was a little exalted—rhapsodical, per
haps—:but it seems you totally misunderstood
bought I was proposing for Everitt
Vllien you were ignorant that ho had wor
ried me for a year with- his suit; that Eh had
tormented me with entreaties and expostula
tions; that morning, noon and night, I was
subjected to the same persecutions, if not in
woids, in contemptuous silence. Then you
joined with them, as I thought; ior when
you offered me a place, at some one’s fireside,
my thoughts went in the accustomed cl; ,n
-ndi/,
Very ambiguous T must have boon,' sa
the doctor, leaning back and drawing a ion*
breath. will bo explicit for once. Drai
Jennre, if you had then understood me, would
your answer have been different? Is it dif
ferent now V
lie dropped the reins, took both my hands,
and looked at me with eyes which would not
be denied..
I had prayed for sunlight. Hero was heav
en come down to earth again in a broad
sweep of glory. It lit up the darkness, and
opened the doors on the hidden secret,of my
heart. when had 1 not loved l)r.
John ? He read the secret, I am sure, be
fore I gave back glance for glance, heart an
swering to heart.
’Love you, Dr. John ! I always have loved
youl Will that do?’
How he answered I shall not tell you. —
the interests subsides when the battle is
over, the .victory .complete. Besides, there
J lO room for heroics. The main street
in Merton suddenly opened before us, and
w 0 lost in the whirl and sweep of other
vehicles. One little explanation I attempted.
My property— ’
‘ls all swallowed up in Eli’s speculations
—I knew, dear. Don’t think about it,’
Didn’t I- tell you he was kind and true ?
We both came to the conclusion that it would
bo .better .for me to return to my brother’s
house, though the doctor, in his indignation
at the selfishness, which, not content with
absorbing my property, had made me—if not.
a bower of wood—a drawer of water, would
have hadme proceed immediately to a cler-'
gyman's house, and bo married thence. But
be yielded to my plea for having all-tilings
done decently and in order. Jn the evening,,
the marriiigeceremony was performed in the
front parlor, Eh sitting bolstered up to wit
ness it, and his wife looking on with what
feelings it is impossible t- judge. They gave
us good wishes and kind hopes for the future,
which were reiterated by the whole of Mor
ton, when t icy came to see us. next day, in
bur own house.
1 And now,’ said Mrs. Dr. John, rising.
‘ you wished to know how I came to marry
the doctor, and I havp told my story. You
asked, too, if I had ever repented the stop.—
You must look to the doctor himself for an
swer to that question. There he comes,
through (bo trees. Ask him.’
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY,. JULY 23, 1863.
Escape 51 the. HippQpoljiDi.ns—s3o,ooo Gone
at Ithe Wtftse.
Faom the Buffalo Commercial.
We learn by a private telegram from De
troit, that the great Hippopotamus attached
to the “ Combination Show-’which exhibited
here last week, has mado his escape.
This animal, together'.with his friend the
big elephant; was hoard the pro
peller S. D. Caldwelrhercron Saturday night
—it being inpracticdble. to-convey them by
railroad and embarked ,' for Detroit. A
place was arranged on , deck for their accom
modation--all went along smoothly until
Sunday morning, when; jrithin some six or
eight miles of the the Detroit riv-.
er, where the hippopotamus, taking it,into
bis bond that he would enjoy a bit of a swim,
walked through the; they were
nothing more than barcloi 1 ® of brown paper,
and.floundered into thewritter—and thus dis
appeared $30,000 aty>n9-sunge. The pro
peller, was “ hove to,” and t'emained near the
spot for over an hour, but,” Hippy” was not
seen again. A small boftv- containing Ali,
bis keeper, and some assistants, was left to
continue the Boarch.bot.wodo not learn that
they got sight of tbo niilstoK.
A rumer prevailed that the monster had
subsequently been captured on the shore near
Malden, but we do not know what credit it
is entitled to. For the sako of his owners—
to whom the loss wouldbe'.a most serious one
—w ; e hope it may be truer -
■ HOW THE HIPPOPOTAMUS'WAS CAPTURED.
The Detroit Free Pt'esf^y cs the following
details of the capture of the Hippopotamus
which escapod from a .steamer into the De
troit river': V‘ ; ,
During, the voyage it wits noticed that the
animal continually looked longingly toward
the water, as though ho wocld have given one
of his eye teeth .for a plunge into the depth
of the lake and a ramble about its unexplored
bottom. No one suppoaed',*huwover, that he.
would yield to hia.amptntijhus .tastes,, and so
ho extra vvatch was set ajion him.
As the steamer neared, the city, and when
about three miles below tliitfort, a crash and
then a splash were heafd frpm the side of the
bow towai d the American>hpre. Everybody
rushed to the spot. .The ,place where the
hippopotamus had been confined was empty.
The beast, no longer nWo to resist the temp
tation, had burst his bonds..and plunged into,
the river resolved on andxjjuatie excursion.
The owner, who was oh h-ard, looked the
picture of despair. Forty thousand dollars,
to say nothingmf a large aiivmnt of prospec
tive profits, had suddeuly-.i'WKioosed. As lor
Ali the Egyptian keeper; he was nearly fran
tic. In a few -moments, however, the mon
strous head of the huge bmp* appeared above
the 1 water. A general .about arose, and Ali
was with great difficulty,;prevented from
jumping overboard in pursuit of his compan
ion and beloved pet while a h iiit was lower-’
od. into.which he jubip'e.dbiipdrawed toward
[the beast, who swam mhdirt, m an extacy of
Idol’gUt. .. ■■’-■■■fe*;'-.. • '
‘|As.'4ie,
faWdiar nnmes’at the, voice the"
monster stopped^.looked around,, and seemed
to. wait for the boat tn near kim. hut.just as
it appeared', within reaching, distanob.. the
hippopotamus gave a plunge and once more
disappeared, leaving a whirlpool of seething,
water to mark .the spot-where he had gone
down. Nothing was seen of.him now. for.a
long time, and they were about giving, him
up for lost, .when he -suddenly made his ap
pearance about one hundred, yards off but
nearer the . shore than a t ,first. All again
vowed towards him; calling him as belore,.
but again the beast dodged l.iim, dove to the
bottom of the river., Ali.now. made a large
circle with bis boat, in hopes of taking him
by surprise, ns he came up to breathe, but,
as if aware of his intentions, the hippopota
mus rose at a long distance oif and looked at
hisSfhaster cunningly and with an express
ion which seemed to sny, “No yon don’t.”
For the third time Ali started in pursuit
with a esult similar to that which had at-
ndcd bis other attempts to recapture bis
pet. When he vvent down the ; third time,
Ali paused, evidently completely nonplussed,
and seemingly overcome by grief andd.es
ppV. In a second, however he seized the
oars and row _ .oward the steamer. “ Try
de tog;” he shout. V, as he came alongside ;
“gib mo de.tog;^’
A large black mnstifi which has been
trained .» sleep in the cage of the hippopo
tamus, and for whom ho has for a long time
evinced much, affection, hud been keeping
up a continued howlingt-from the time bis
.companion bad escaped, was now loosened,
and ho instantly plunged into the river and
swam alter All as he moved off. In about
a minute the hippopotamus again stuck his
huge head out of the.water, ana on seeing
him, the dog gave and swam in
Ins direction very jAli accompanying
him in the boat, .jrt the dog reached
.the monster, arid .with of barks eom
moiioed swimming around the'animal, and
finally struck out fur the shore, the hippopo
tamus follow, ig.
The interests excited by this-scena was in
tense which continued to increase until the
dug and hippopotamus reached the Ameri-
can shore in safety. AJj was not long after,
and the animal was ho sooner on terra firma
than the Egyptian, armed -sjiith a small raw
hide, which he had taken with him, jumped
on the beach, going to the animal spoke a
Cow words in tlio Egyptian fungus, gave him
n few smart cuts over his ponderous rump
with the rawhide and drove him without fur-
ther difficulty to a place of safety, where he
whs at once secured and the proper means
adopted to have him brought to this city,
whore he now is, in. fine condition- after his
frolic beneath the waves.
Anxious to be a Widow. —The Columbus
Journal says that while many , wives in that
vicinity are anxious to keep their husbands’
names off the enrolling offiear’p'books, an in
stance of the opposite kind occurred in the
Second ward, where a, i du'ch woman was,
who was exceedingly anxious to have her
husband’s name enrolled, notwithstanding
ho was over fifty years of age. She begged
the.onrolling officer to place his name on the
list, and as an inducement to have him do so,
she said she had lived with the man long
enough, and she wanted to get rid of him. —
Her efforts were unavuiling.-
BSf Down on the. Amazon are spiders with
bodies two inches and legs seven inches long,
that batch and suck birds; butterflies that
are mistaken , for hemming ibiids ; green
snakes just like a'oreeping plant, and a love
ly coral snake with 'bunds of black and Ver
million separated ,by Clear white rings; mon
keys with white Iraintll 'over them ; monkeys
only seven inch.-: long; and owl faced apes
sleeping all day and lively at night.
O' A young huckster Woman ate fifty
oranges one after another, at Columbus, Ohio,
be other day, on a wager. She received $5.
A BM of Pallios in Real life.
There are queer histories, in the world
Walking homewards a few nights ago, in ri
drenching rain, up South street, we overtook
two females, composedly moving.upward un
der the shelter of a wide spread umbrella.
The parlies wore a mother and daughter.
The latter is about twenty one years of age ;
the former cannot bo much short of sixty.
In the Rogue’s Gallery is the picture of a
man named Burkie. The original is still in
the Easterp Penitentiary. Ho was sentenced
three years ago for the murder, in a house
of ill-repute in LocuSt Street, of a constable
in the office of Alderman McMullen. The
’victim-.was named Johnson. Johnson was
engaged to be married at the time of the
murder to a young girl who then lived in a
court near Eifth and Christian streets, and
who lives there still. The. young man was
not worthy of such love as that entertained
for him by the girl.
A quarrel arose in the, house, and a stab
with a knife in tho'hands'of Burkie took ef
fect upon his bieast and he was killed. The
females whom we met in the nouring shower,
as above narrated, were the girl to whom the
murdered man was affianced, and her moth-
er. The death of her lover caused the girl
to become, demented. She remains in that
cOndit-on to tills day. She believes, howev
er, thatnt some time.not definitely fixed, be
tween the hours of one and two o’clock in
the morning, by visiting the scehe of the
murder her betrothed will appear to her;
Of her mind this singular idea has taken solo
.possession.
Every night, for three years past, in com
pany with her mother, the girl has visited
the locality of the tragedy; neither rain,
snow, cold or heat, has evey.yet interrupted
this nightly visit. They take one regular
route—up Fifth to South, up South to Ninth,:
and thence to Locust street, in an'alley run
ning from which street the murder was com
mitted. During the whole walk the girl
talks incessantly'to her. mother, in a low’tone
of voice, and the mother, with bursting heart
listens patiently but hopelessly. . She knows
the fruitlessness of the nightly walk, but
takes it that*her unfortunate daughter may
to that extent be comforted.
They walk to the alley where the sad event
occurred, heeding, no one, and steadily mov
irntto the house whore, the murderous deed
rffllfdono. They wait there for some min
utes, sometimes, for as much, os an hour.—
Then the girl says, “ Never mind, .mother
dear ;ho won’t come to-night I lie will bo
here to-morrow.”. And the poor ereature re
turns hopefully, sometimes even cheerfully,
and nearly a thousand to-morrows have since
transpired, yet each night the girl, with her
devoted mother, comes to the soot, only to
retire in hope that the disappointment of the
night may bo consumated by better results
the next. .
So well 'is the history known, down town,
that,even the vilest ruffian in Moyamonsing'
passes the women by without ah insult. The
girl, is comely, with a fresh coinplextion and
fair slmpev.bat no man says aught to her, as
’ with iier’hPrrow'tidricisen' toother,-.she makes
hot nightlyj.uirney. The mother’s steps lire
growing feeble They are poor • and not
many days hence the girl must do her' four-'
ney alone; God help her I —Pldld. NqHh{
American,
A Bee Battle.— On the 7th of June, 1827,
occurred one of those battles of bees which
naturalists have more than once bad oppor
tunity of observing. Among the many other
remarkable instincts—sentiments, we may
almost call them—possessed by these insects,
is a sort of sense of property, right of loca
tion, or law of meant and tmiin. According
to an account :in. the Carlisle Jairiol, on the
day in question, at the village of-Cargo, iii
Cumberland, a struggle took place between
two swarms of bees. A day or two earlier,
one of these communities had swarmed in the:
usual way and been safely hived. On the
day of. battle, a swarm of bees from some
neighboring hive was seen to be flying over
the garden in wnio.h the first-mentioned hive
was situated. They -instantly darted down
upon the hive, and completely covered it; in
a little time they began to enter the hive, and
poured into it in such numbers that it soon
became completely filled. Then commenced
a terrible struggle. A loud, bumming noise
was hoard, and presently both armies of com
batants rushed -forth ; the besiegers and the
besieged did not fight within the beleaguered
city, hut in the open,air. The battle raged
with such fury, that the ground beneath was
soon covered with the wounded and slain ;
the wounded crawled about painfully, unable
to riseand rejoin theirfellow warriors. Not
until ono party was vanquished rind driven
away, did the sanguinary battle end.' The
victors then resumed possession of the hive.
The local narrative, doe- not furnish the
means for deciding the question ; hut it seems
most probable that there were some rights of
property in the case, and that the interlopers
were ejected. , ' ' '
What CoNSTtTtiTEs a Gentleman?—‘Hal
loo 1 you man witli a pail and frock,’ said -a
British officer, as ho brought his fiery horse
to a stand in front of Gov. Crittenden’s dwell
ing, ‘can you inform me whether his: honor
the Governor of Vermont, resides here.
‘ He does,’ was the response of the man,
still wending his way to the pig sty.,
* Is his honor at home ?’ continued the man
of spurs!
‘ Moss certainly,’ replied the man of the
frock.
* Take my horse by the bit, then,' said the
officer, ‘ I have business to transact with your
master.’
Without a second bidding, the man did as
requested, and the officer having alighted,
made bis way to the door, and gave the pan
el several hearty raps with his whip—for bo
ifUrtown, in those days of simplicity, knock
era and bells, like servants, wore in but little
use.
The good dame auswerod the summons;
and having seated .the officer, apd ascertained
his desire to'see the Governor, she departed
to inform her husband of the guest's arrival;
but on ascertaining that the officer bad made
a bitching post of her husband, she returned
and informed him that the Governor, was en
gaged in the yard, and could not -very well
wait upon him and bis horse at the same
time 1’
The predicament,’of the officer can be bet
■ferdmagrned-thap described.
O” The law under which General Scott
wiia retired provided that* it should bo done
‘ without reduction in his ourrept-pay, sub
sistence and allowance,’ bonce he objected to
assessment levied upon his income by the
new lux law. It seems bis annual income
amotints to §13,796 80, and bis tax for the
short month of February was §3O 50.
B®* Should you. be talking to a thin lady
of another thin indy, you needn’t describe
the party alluded to aa a “ scraggy old maid.”
Habits op the Shae.— The habits of our
fish hava been very littio attended to in this
country. Our scientific men, it is.true, have
been very precise in their ponderous nomen
clature ; they have described our fishes even
to thq shape of a scale, or the number of
thorns in the dorsal fin, but they have not
condescended to note their habits, their food,
or their length of life, with all such particu
lars as would interest common readers and
bo of use to mankind.
No fish is mure valued or more valuable
than the shad, Jet but few of its habits of
life are known. The books are silent, and
angling gives no information. It was lor a
lung time a commonly received opinion that
the shad spent-the winter in the Gulf of Mex
ico, and then, as the spring advanced, and
the snow-water ceased running, came along
■the coast and entered the river in succession.
If this were, true there would be no uniformi
ty, year after year, in the run of shad in each
river. , The very distinct varieties would all
become intermingled. But each river has its
own variety ; those of Connecticut river have
long been known as possessing superior size
and flavor. The variety that seeks the Hud
son as a spawning ground is easily distin
guished from ours. ' The fact of the
dess of the varieties in each river tends to the
belief that shad go on farthorthao the mouth
of the stream in which they are hatched.
The habits of the shad lire unlike those of
other fish. As soon as the snow water has
ceased running, they press up the river ns far
as they can roach, in ofdor to deposit their
spawn. In following this instinct they never
stop for refreshment or food. Who ever fount!
anything in the maw or stomach of a shad
hat would indicate the nature of its food
Who over knew them to bite a .baited hook ?
They do not.feed from the time they enter
the stream until they sink down, thin and
exhausted,, into deep places at the mouth.—
For this purpose of nature the’ shad has been
preparing itself during the quiet luxuries of
a winter, and has become fattened for the use
of man, or, if ho escapes his net,'for the pro
duction of its species. The shad lives but a
single year. It is hatched in early summer,
descends the’streams ns soon as large enough,
feeds and fattens in the winter at the mouth-,
of the stream—ascends to die ;at - the bottom
'of the ocean. This fact accounts lor the uni'
fortuity in the size of the fish. A Connecti
cut'river shad seldom goes beyond- seven
pounds, and the variation in size is compara
tively slight. The bass, on the ether hand,
which is known live many years, .varies from
half a pound in weight to fifty, even ip our
river. It has a .long time to grow, and shows
a much greater diversity of-sizo. These con
siderations have led to the -conclusion: that
one year is the duration of a shad’s life.
Incidcnts at’Vicksburg.— Before Vicks
burg surrendered, quite an excitement was
raised one night bj.a deep-voiced private in
our rifle pits calling out as follows:
'‘Attention, battalion! ■ Order arms 1 Fix
■bayonetsl Shoulder arms!. Charge’bayo
-'Uets 1 Forward,-double-quick.!’
if - Just at this juncture an entire volley of
Mtiusketry fruity the rebels greeted out pitsty—
It’ was dark,' atiil they, thought u charge had
been made. As soon as the report of the djs-.
charge-had-,dled,awdy our hero cried out, as'
if to a regiment:
- ‘ Why are you wavering there ? Forward !
I say forward I’
Another volley came rattling over their
heads, when, having carried the joke far
enough, the,boys fell to shooting the excited
rebels, and ceased only when the pickets were
put out.
A rebel, yesterday ventured to pry out from
his rifle pit to our, pickets : , ■,
‘ Hello, Yank.’
‘ What do you, want ?’ replied one of our
men.
‘ Why don’t you shoot ?’ queried the reb.
‘We have quit shooting prisoners,’ was
le caustic reply of the Yankee.
Best Time to Sleep.— Two-Ooipnela in the
French army had a dispute whether it. was
most safe to march in the heat of the day, or
at evening. To ascertain tide point, they got
permission from the commanding'Officer to
put their respective plans into execution. Ac
cordingly, the one with his division, marched
during the.day, although it was in the heat
of* summer, and rested all night; the other
slept in the day, and marched during the
evening and part of the night. The result
was, that the drat performed a.journey of six
hundred miles without loosing a single man
or horse, while the latter lost most of his
horses and several of his men.
O’There are thousands of unnaturalized
workman in the'United States, who will not
stand their chance for a draft. Workmen,
mechanics, clerks and others, in Philadelphia,
are organizing to turn nut of their employ.-
and refusing to work with men who steal the
blessings of our land but refuse" to take their
part in its defence.
SSf'That was a very pretty conceit of a
romantic husband and father whose name
was Hose, who named his daughter t Wild,’
so that she grow up under the appellation
‘ Wild Rose.’ But the romance of the name
was sadly spoiled in a . few years, for she
married a man by the name of ‘ Bull.’
Ip" What strange creatures girls are.
Offer one of them good'wages to work for
you, and, tan chances to one, if the • old wo
man .can space any of her girls* —but just
propose matrimony, and aee if they don’t
jump at the chance of working a lifetime for
victuals and clothes ■ \ •
ID" An Indian out , Wont was heard to
make the following exclamation, on Booing
one of our fashionable dressed ladies: “Ugh I
much wigwam !’’
JCT 1 ’ The heart that soars upward escapes
little cares and vexations ; the birds that fly
high have not the dust of the road upon their
wings.
(D“ Drosses are coming 'down. The sign
before the door of a niantua maker’s shop;
in the city, reads thus : .
“-N. B.— Dresses made lower than ever,”
■ Ip* It is loss important to a young lady
thn't her lover’s diamonds should bo of purer
water than his drinks should bo.
BD* Flayo said men should rise
from the dead and read their epitaphs, some
of them would think, they had got into the
wrong grave.
p" Do one thing at a time—that’s the
rule—when you have done slandering your
'neighbors then begin to say prayers.
.Ip" “ a > y°u will give mo an apple, I
will be good.”
“ -Vo. my child—you must not be good for
pay—you ought,to he goad for nothing,”
JUr. Webster and his Bills.
Our readers ore aware that the lata Hon,
Daniel Webster was not so careful iu his pe
cuniary matters as some men, and this fault
was at times taken advantage of. At one
time a poor man sawed a pile of wood for
him, and having presented Ins bill, it was
promptly paid by Mr. Webster. The labor
er took sick during the winter,'and a neigh
bor advised him to call upon Mr. Webster.for
the payment of his. bill.
‘ But he has paid me,’ said the man.
‘ No matter,’ replied his dishonest adviser,;
‘call again with it. He don't know, and'
don’t mind what ho pays. It is a very com
mon thing for him to pay much smaller-bills
oyer twice.' ■ , .
The man got well, and carried in his no
pount the second time. Mr. Webslerdooked
at it, looked at the man, remembered him,
but paid the bill without murmuring*
. The fellow got, ‘ short’ somo three -or four
months afterwards, and bethought him o’ftlft
generosity and loose manner of Daniel Web
ster in his money matters; and a third time
he called and presented the ‘bill for sawing
the wood. Mr. Webster took the account,
which ho immediately recognized, and scan- '
m PS ! be wood sawyer a moment, he said :
* do you keep yohr books, air - ?* . •
*1 keep no books,* said the man abashed.;
. ‘ I thiuk you do, sir/ continued . Daniel
Webster, with marked emphasis; 4 and you
excel those who are satisfied with the double
entry system.. 3fou keep yoiir books .upon
ir- .jle^eu try plan, I observe/ •
Tearing up the account, Mr. Webster-a&«.
dedi: • ,
‘Go, sir, and be honest hereafter. Ihnve
no objections to paying these little bills twice
but I cannot pay them three times, Vuu may
retire.’. 1
The man left the room, feeling as though
he was suffocating for want bf air. He had
1 carped a lesson that lasted through-life.
Tub Dog that bad no Friends.— -Wo warp
travelling, (says a correspondent,V through
Canada, m the year 18d2,. arid lifter a hard
day’s ride, stopped at the Jjion Inn ; and the
contents of the-stage, numbering about nine
persons, soon gathered around the cheerful
tire. Among the occupants of the room wo
observed au. ill-looking cur,, who’ hod shown
his wit by taking up bis quarters in, so. com
fortable an apartment. Altera lew.moments
the landlord entered, and observing thb-s'peo
imen, of the canine species, remarked :
: ‘ Fine dog that I ■ Is : he yours, sir. V ap
proaching one of the passengers.
1 No, sir.’ ; . ■
‘ Beautiful dog 1 Yours, sir?’ addressed
himself to another.
‘ No,l was the blunt reply. . , ....
‘ Cuiue here, pup 1 -.Perhaps he is yours,
Sir?’
‘ No,’was the reply. ...
.‘Very sagacious animal. Belongs to you,
I suppose, sir?’ ... ...
‘■No, ho doesn’t,’ was the answer. . . .
‘ Then ho is -youio, and you have it troas
ure,’ (throwing the animal a cracker.)
‘ Nothing of tlio kiud.’ ■ ■
' (witK?o 8ihili ! ); 'h'o t heh)hft3 to. you ei!.
a matter of course ?’ addressing" tueloat pas
senger. ■
‘'Wouldn’t have him as a gift.’
‘ -^ len • vou ' , J urna l> dirty, mean, contempt
ible whelp, git out,’ and. with that the host
gave the poor, dog sUeh a kick’ as sent thp
animal yelling into the street, ainid thcroarc
of the company.
Bhrolliitga'Jucknss.
Harper’s ‘ Dratoer 1 contains this ‘enrol
ling’ anecdote:
The enrolling officer of Salisbury'District,
Maryland, was.very active and thorough in
the performance of his duty. One day ho
went to the house of a countryman, and flnd
,ing none of the male mom hers, "bf the family
at home, made inquiry of.an old woman, the
number and age of the ‘ males’ of the family.
After naming several, the old lady Slopped.
‘ Is there no one else V asked the officer..
‘No!’ replied the woman, ‘none .'except
Billy Gray.’
.* Billy Gray 1 where is he?’ .
‘ lie wap .at the barn a moment ago,’ said
the old lady.
Out went the officer, but could not see the!
man. Coming back, the worthy officer ques
tioned the old lady as to the age of Billy, and
went away, after enrolling his name among
those to be drafted. Time of the drafting
came, and of those on -whom, theslot fell, wats
Billy Gray. No one knew him. Where diid
he live ? The officer who enrolled him was
called on to produce him, and, 10, beholfl,
Billy Gray was a Jackass ! and stands now
on the list of drafted men as formingone of
the quota of Maryland.
Paddy Hayes and the Turtle. —ln N. Y.
a man was carrying a live turtle ah ng the
street when along came an Irishman followed
by a large dog. The countryman tried.hard
to got the son of Emerald to put hia’fib&er ip
the turtle’s mouth, but be was too smart for
that.
* But,’ says he, ‘ I’ll put my dog’s tail In,
and see what the baste will do.’
He immediately called up his dog, took h>B
tail in his hand and stuck it iq the turtle's
mouth. He had scarcely got it in when Mr.
Turtle shut down an the poor dog’s tail, and
off .be latter ran ata railroad speed, pulling
the turtle after him at a morsraoid
ever it bod traveled before. The country,
man thinking fits day’s work would be thrown
away if the animal should run long at thaf
speed, turned uvagely upon the Irishman
and exclaimed:—
‘ Cull hack your dog 1’
Patrick put his hands into his pockets,
threw his head to one-side, .winking with a
provoking sang froidA^
‘ Call back your fish 1’
Seward on McClellan. —The. 'Washing
ton correspondent of the World ,soys, * Sec
retary, Seward’s ‘ last words’ in Washington
before leaving for Auburn are reported to
have been to the following effect—that tho
country would have .boon the bettor by three
disastrous defeats—that -of tho Pope caf&r
paign, the Burnside slaughter, and Hooker’s
wi aornoss fight—i/ffen. McClellan had been
Vft in command of the army of the Foiomaa
and let alone.’
JB©"lf you want to make a girl, who is
vam of hoi; beauty, mad, tell her-you wont t(j
a party last highly and was'introdljoed to
Miss , the. handsomest girl you ever
saw in your life,. .The piament yourhaefcio
turned she wilt corQEneucQ-in&feiog facesirtr
Jin. That’s so,’try it. ' ■
'KB* If you wish yeur hoighiors to. nolloo
you, buy a dog and tie him-up in the cellar
all night. They won’t sleep for thinking of
you.
ID” Most young fallows, whoa whiskqy la
it bond make rye mouths.
* mis