The American Volunteer
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING.
John B. Bratton.
OFF Id* —SOUTH AtARKKI* SQTTAUR
Terms.— Two dollars por year If paid strictly
l« advance. Two 'Dollars and Fifty Cents If
said within three months, after which Throo
Dollars'Will Bo charged. These terms will bo
rlsldly adhered to. In every Instance. No sub
scription discontinued until all arrearages ore
paid, unless at the option of the Editor.
Ipnetial
MY OLD LOVE.
I bear In the thicket the brooklet’s fall;
A thrush on a lilac spray
Sings us of old the vesper song
Of the slowly-walking day;
And the fragrance comes down’lron the cheat
nut trees,: , i.
In the meadow, Where daisies blow,
As It came when the lender 'twilight came,
In the springs of long ago.
Far ever the dark and shadowy woods
Comes floating the ohnroh-bell’s chime,
And I wander and dream In the fading light.
As 1 dreamed in the olden time.
When I lingered under the chestnut bough
Till hashed was the. bird’s sweet strain,
And the shimmering* light of the moonbeams
foil • ; '
On the leaves like a silver rain.
But never again shall I wait and watch; .
In the hash of the sweet spring night.
For a step lathe depth of the rustling corpse.
And the gleam of a garment white;
And never again ’noath the dew-gemmed flow
ers,
Shall linger my love and I,
When llie' tremulous stars, through the fleecy
bars ; I •'![ ‘J, ■ v ’ .
Look out In the western sky.
let a Joy which Is nameless and strangely sad.
Throbs In ray heart’s deep core.
As the sweet, sweet love of the days long fled.
Is thrilled Into Ufo onco more.
O dear was I to the heart that Is cold.
' Andhorloveo’ershadowaraestUJ;
And the stars ahlne "down on her grave to-nlgh t
In the lone church-yard on the hill.
PkelliTOMS.
JOHN NEYNOLD'S LESSON.
“ What Is the matter, my little wo
man?” .
“ Only tired, John.”
Lina Reynolds looked up as she
spoke to'smile bravely in the face bend
ing anxiously over her. , ■
“Tired, Lina?” he said, lifting the
little figure as he spoke, add taking his
. wife like a child upon his knee.
“ What have you been doing to make
you tired?” .
“Only a day’s work; don’t worry
John,” for a shade passed over the
kindly face.
“I don’t worry ; but I can’t see what
"makes you complain so often of being
tired. lam sure the house work ain’t
so much. Other women do it.
There was just a little of fretfulness
in John’s tone, though he did not mean
to be unkind..
“ I know they do ; Mrs. Harper has
four children and takes care of them
besides doing piles of sewing. Perhaps,
John, it Is because I have not had expe
rience in country work, and don’t
manage well. A will learn better after
a while. Now, tell me what you did
In town.”, rr".
“I did quite well. Sold the whole
crop of wheat at a good price, and nut
another installment in bank for the
Stanley farm.”
“ Your whole heart is on that farm,
John.”
“ Indeed it Is. Let mo once, own that,
free of debt, and I shall be a happy
man ; It is the best land in the coun
try, and. the house is thrice as largo as
(Jus.”
fiina thought of large floors to scrub,
more rooms to-clean, and additional
work of all kinds, and swallowed a lit
tle sigh that nearly escaped from her
mouth.
“John,” she said, rather timidly,
“don’t you think if you spend part of
the money on this house we might be
very happy here ?”
“ Spend money on this house 1” cried
the astonished John. “ Why, wbaton
earth ails this house ?*’
“ I mean in things for it. Now, the
parlor looks so stiff, and is always shut
up, I was thinking If we had a pretty
carpet, and some curtains of some white
muslin or lace, and a set of nice furni
ture, and—and—a piano.. O, John, if
we could have a piano!”
“ A piano!” “Do you know what a
piano costs?”
“No. Aunt Louisa had one, you
know, ever since 1 can remember. But
X think If we had a pretty parlor to rest
in the evenings, I could play for you
and sing. You never heard me play
or sing, John.”
“ I have heard yon sing, but not
lately,” said John, rather gloomily.
“Oh, that was just humming around
the house; X mean real singing. I
have lots of music in my trunk.”
“ But you 'are only a farmer’s wife,
now, Lina. X thought that when we
were married that you understood that
we were hot to have city finery and
pleasure.”
“So.I did John. I don’t want finery.
I don’t want any pleasure but your
love, John. Don’fscrew up your face so.
I am silly to think of these things at
all. There, kiss me, and forget it. I
am nicely rested now, and I’ll get your
lea in ten minutes.”
John put her head down with a very
tender kiss, and straightway fell Into a
reverie.
Una Rivers had been a district school
teacher In Hcottfleld Just four months,
when John Reynolds offered her his
hand and heart. She was an orphan
from Infancy, but her father’s sister had
adopted and educated herein a life of
luxury, and without altering a will
Made years:before, leavlng:her entire
fortune to the charity asylum; Lina,
Mft alone, had thankfully accepted the
Position of country school teachelr, pro
cured for her by some friends, and was
thinking life a burden, when John
came to brighten it. She gave her whole
gentle heart Into his keeping at once,
appreciating at their full value his hon
oat, true heart, his frank nature, his
sterling good , qualities, and looking
With the most profound admiration up
on his tall, strong frame and handsome
face.
It was a perfect love mutch, for John
fairly worshiped the dainty, refined llt
•io beauty he bad married. And having
landed her, he took her to his home,
in all Ignorance, proceeded to kill
There was no blame to be laid upon
M> living in the old farm house
Whore he had spent his entire life, the
y ambition of his life, was to own
®he Amtticon BolmUer
BY JOHN B. BRATTON.
land, stock, barns, and a model farm,
He had seen his mother cook, churn,
feed poultry and drudge all her life, and
all the women he knew did the same,
and if Lina made a mistake she put a
willing heart to her work, and soon
conquered its difficulties. Surely he
thought it would be an easier life to be
mistress of his homh, with the Stanley
farm in prospect - , than to toil over stu
pid children in a district school. .He
never had heard the wonderful music
the little white hands, all rough and
scarred now, could draw from the ivory
keys of a piano or an organ, or the clear,
pure voice in song. It was an unknown
life to John where hlswlfe’a memory
lingered' pa she 'scoured tins, strained
milk, and cooked huge dishes of food
for the farm hands. He would have
thought it wicked waste, if not positive
Insanity to draw from the bank his
hard earned savings to invest them in
beautifying his plain and comfortable
home.
And so the loving little woman toiled
and slaved, undertook tasks beyond her
strbngth, worked early and late, until,
just one year after his wedding day,
John Reynolds coming home to his
tea, found lying upon the kitcheri floor
a senseless little figure, with a face like
death, and hands* that sent chilis to his
very heart.
The doctor hastily summoned, looked
grave, and advised perfect quietness
and rest. A girl was hired, and John
tenderly'nursed the invalid, but though
she grew belter she was still pale and
weak,
“Take her away a while,” said the
doctor. “ Try change of air, she is over
worked.”
“But,” said honest, puzzled John,
“ she does nothing but the house work
for us two. She has no child, and the
sewing is not much.”
The doctor looked into the troubled
face. “ You are a good man, John
Reynolds, and a strong one,” he said,
boldly, “ will you let me tell you a few
truths?” ' ;
“ Yes, about Lina ?”
" About Lina. You remember, do
you not, the tiny antelope you admired 1
so much in the menagerie we had .here
last summer?”
“ Certainly,” said John, looking more
puzzled than ever.
“ Suppose yoh had brought that lit
tle creature and yoked it with one of
your oxen to a .cart to do the same
work ?”
“ I’d been a fool,” said John ; “ that
little thing couldn’t work. It was just
made pretty to look at.”
“ That’s it, John, Now I don’t tiling
God ever made any woman to look
pretty and play, hut he made some for
the rough work of this world and some
for the dainty places, some to cool? and
scrub, and some to draw men’s souls
to heaven by gentle loveliness. Your
wife is one of the latter. If you were a
poor man I would: hold my tongue, but
you are a rich one. Give your wife a
servant; let her have books, music 1 ,
pretty things around her. Let her rest
from toil, and you may keep her by
your side. Put her back in her old
place, and you may order her tomb
stone, for she will soon need it. Don’t
put your antelope beside your oxen,
John!” " '
“ I will not I Thank you 1,1 under
stand. . Poor loving patient heart I”
“ That's right I Take her out for a
little pleasure trip, and get back her
roses.”
Lina clapped her hands when John
asked her if she would like to spend a
week in New York, and really seemed
to draw in new life from the very idea.
It was delicious fun to see John’s
wide open eyes as they entered the par
lor of the' great city hotel, and were
shown into the bedroom whose beau
ties were not quite as bewildering.
“ The best room,” he had told the
landlord, and Lina could not'repress a
cry of delight at the vista of a cosy sit
ting-room invitingly open.
“.O, John 1” said she, “ won’t you go
in there and shut the door for five min
ute, please ?”
John obeyed, of course. John, she
thought, gratefully refuses me nothing,
now.
. How lucky I brought some of my
old dresses,” Lina thought. I have
not worn them since I was a school
inarm—fancy Mrs. Reynolds scrubbing
the floor in this dress.
John rubbed his eyes and pinched
himself as a little figure sailed into the
sitting-room, made him a sweeping
courtesy, and went’to the piano.
Was that the little woman who had
worn prints and sunbonnets so long 7
The hair was fashionably dressed, and
bands of blue velvet looped the golden
curls. A dress of blue silk with the soft
est' lace trimming and ornaments of
pearls,, had certainly made a fine lady
of Linn.
■The piano was yielding its most be
witching tones to the skilled little fin
gers, and John’s bewilderment was
complete when a voice of exquisite
sweetness, though not powerful, began
to sing.
Only one song, full of thrills and
quivers, and then Una rushed from the
piano into John’s arms.
“ John, darling,’’.she said, “hold me
fast. Don’t let me slip from you I”
“O, Lina !” ho groaned, “ I was not
fit to marry such a dainty bird. But I
loved you, little one.”
“ And Hove you, John! Letmesing
again. I am very happy to-day, my
husband.”
But no wonderful thrills filled the
little room now. In a clear, pure voice
full of expression, Lina sang:
“I know that my Redeemer livoth.”
Every word fell. like hot tears on
poor John’s heart, until, at the last the
chord trembled upon the air. Lina
turned to him, stretching out both of
her arms:
“ Take me In your arms, John.”
He took her to the room she bad
quitted so gaily, and she replaced her
finery by a white wrapper, whose lace
trimmings looked like fairy-work, to
his unaccustomed eyes.
“Are you tired, love?” he asked
with a great spasm of terror at his
heart,,, as he looked at the white, wast
ed face.
“ Yes, very tired, but happy, John,”
and? with a little sigh of entire content
Lina nestled down against the warm
heart whoso.every throb she knew was
all her own. i The white lids fell softly
over the violet eyes, and shhslept peace
fully as a child.
“Softy, as she rested, the faint pink
flush gathered on her lips, while John
bending over, lifted his heart in earn
est prayer for the life that made his
own so bright.”
Mis. Reynolds was tq experience her
share of astonishment during the holi
days, and it commenced bythosppa
ration of John the next day in a suit of
handsome clothes that well became his
manly figure. There was no foppery,
but he looked. like a gentleman, though
he made more than one grimace be
fore he got, as he said, “ well shaken
into store clothes;’?
, Can I dfescrlhe that week? What - '
was new to John,. was old, familiar
ground to Lina.'.Central Park was not
soon exhausted, and the little guide
grew rosier and stronger every day, in
John’s thoughtful care, that provided
plenty of pleasant excitement, but
guarded against fatigue.
It was early in the afternoon of a
sunny day when the train.drew up at
the Scottfleld Station, and John banded
his wondering, wife into a one-horse
carriage waiting for them.
“ ne w purchase, dear,” he exclaim
ed. “We are to have a drive every af
ternoon, the doctor prescribes it.”
The house was where it always had
been, but Lina rubbed, her eyes, and
wondered if she had been ushered Into
fairy land.
The dull sitting room had been pa
pered., carpeted, curtained, and trans
formed into a cosy dining room. The
stiff parlor was a very bower of beauty,
with a fine piano, the daintiest of furni
ture, and a carpet covered with boquets
of exquisite flowers, the bedrooms were
carpeted brightly and rejoiced incot
tage sets, and in the kitchen the moat
good natured of German girls freely
shed tears when Lina-addressed her in
her own language.
“Rut, John!” she cried, “the Stan,
ley farm?”'
“ Its sold, dear. You were right; we
will make this home so lovely the
Stanley farm will never cost me a sigh.
Dr. Greyson and His wife took the treu.
ble here, and I have hired two new
hands, so as to have a little more leis
ure.”
But, John,” ihe little wife said ear
nestly, “ I do not want you to think I
am a flns lady, a doll to wear fine
clothes, and to jive in idleness. I want
to be a true helpmate to you.”
“ So you will bo, Lina. God meant no
one to bo a drone in the busy hive ol
the world. You are not strong,, but
you will find plenty to keep you busy
in superintending In-door arrangements
and directing Gretchen. And on our
drives, love, we will fee if we cannot
find soma poorer than ourselves to com
fort and aid. That will be my thank
offering for your life, my little wife.”
The neighbors started arid wondered.
Comments upon John’s folly and im
providence fell from many lips, and
old men, shaking their heads, prophe
sied ruin for the Reynolds’ farm.
But John was as much astonished as
any of them, when, after a few years,
he found the farm yielding him a lar
ger income than ever before.
“I do believe, Lina,” he said one day
to a matronly little woman who was
crowing baby, that your
flower garden was worth “a thousand
dollars to me last year 1 ”
“John!”
“ Yes ; see it was to get the informa
tion about flowers that we first began
to Sfcnbscribe for the papers ; there I
-found so many hints, that I began to
think I knew nothing about farming.—
One book, after another, crept Into the
house, and the time X thought would be
wasted—taken from farm work—was
spent in reading. Now, look at the la
bor saving machines I have bought I
Bee the new stock ! My orchard is going
to be the best in the country too 1”
“ And my poultry yard, John I It
was the papers and magazines that first
gave me the idea of a model poulry
yard. What fun we had getting It
started ”
“ Yes, indeed. The New York trip
was the best investment ,X,ever made,
Lina. I saw so many things there that
I met again in print—the threshing
machine, the rotary harrow, the im
proved plows.”
“ And,” said Mrs; Reynolds, mische
viously,' “ the ’ Milton watch, sewing
machine, the corals for Johnnie?”
, “ Come, are you ready for your eve
ning drive ?”
“ As soon as I put on my hat and get
the basket of things for Mrs, Good
win.”
“It beats me, John,” said his uncle,
one bright- day, “ where you find so
much money for tomfoolery, new-fan
gled nonsense, falfais for Lina, and yet
give so much charity, I thought you.
were crazy to buy that Stanley farm ?”
“ I. was once, but I have something
better now than the Stanley farm. I
have learned how to manage my ante
lope.”
“What?”
But to this day John never explained
that riddle to his puzzled relative,—
Hearth and Home.
The Pio and Serpent Bites.— The
impression is generally prevalent In the
United States that the common domestic
pig Is an especial enemy of all kinds of
serpents, and that It Is capable of receiv
ing the bite of the rattlesnake and copper
head without the slightest personal in
convenience or injury. This same immu
nity from barm would seem to exist in
other countries, as a late writer in the
Lond.on Field remarks upon the fondness
of the pigs in India far the cobra de ca
pello, and states that be bos repeatedly
seen them, in conflict, and has observed
the pig to be bitten over and over again
In the snout and about the face by the
writhing reptile, and In no instance wltfai
the slightest ill result to the aggressor.
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL 4, 1872.
\ Jbr American VoUmtetTi
A THOUBHT.
A year has passed so quickly by,
It seems but yesterday 1 stood *
On yonder ollfT, and watched the sky
Changing to tints of brilliant dyo,
With ever varying mood.
Bat now a storm is gathering fast;
Behold tho quickly shifting clouds
Fly swift before tho withering blast,
Each one is stronger than the last;
They look like winding shroads.
A thought then rose within my mind,
How much our lives are like the sky.
Whoa Heaven smiles, wo are inclined
. To look on all tho human kind
WUU mild and friendly eye.
But let our lives he olondod o’er
By sorrows from a Father seat,
Our sky which seemed so bright before.
We now in bitterness deplore,
As wo bygrlef are bent.
Could we but/ufJ, as well we know ,
’Tis love that sends each cross to bear,
Then winter’s angriest blast might blow
Our Uvea in one calm stream would flow,
Devoid of cankering care.
[Written for tho FUllada, Sunday Transcript.
OUT ON THE RUINS.
£ THE MAD TBAPFEB.
BY I'AI7L narks.
It was JubL where the city of -Denver
now stands, that a group of seven of us 1
were seated eating our suppers from a
newly slain buffalo. That was twenty
four years ago. What a wonderful
change has taken place since that periodl
Where a bustling city now rears its
spires, there was nothing then to be
seen but a roiling prairie, with- the tur
bid waters of the Platte meanderingaway
until it was lost in the green distance.—
We wohld have laughed then at the Idea
of the iron horse dragging bis train-after
him across the spot where we were
camping. Such thoughts had found ut
terance when we read the predictions In
some stray, copies of newspapers that oc
casionally found their way .to our soli
tudes. But these anticipations, if ever
realized, would belong to another gener
ation. So we reasoned, In the profundity
of our wisdom.
I said there were seven.of us. There is
only one living to-day—the writer of this
sketch. Four were inhunjaniy murdered
by Indians, one blew bis brains out in a
fit of despondency, and one was drowned
In the Missouri, in attempting to save a
woman from a watery grave. I cannot
help feeling sad as I pen these words,
for the recollection of the brave, honest
hearts with whom I was associated in so
many deadly encounters, and upon whom
I learned so implicitly to rely in the
hour'of need, awakens a regret at their
untimely deaths. Gentle were they, with
the simplicity of children, kind In their
rough ways as a woman, while the great
stout hearts they bore never quailed be
fore any danger. Poor fellows; no pen
ever- wrote their obituaries or recorded
their worth, and yet' each was a hero
whose individual act'migbt not pale in
comparison with world-renowned knight
hood.
• ’Taint no use,! remarked Sol White,
of them newspaper men writin’about
sending a locomotive over these prairies.
Where in .thunder do they expect to get
their fuel? P’raps they imagine they
can run ’em on buffalo chips. I reckon
not. Besides, the JJtes and the rest of
’em would have somethin’ to say to that;
I once heard that durned old fool, Chou
teau, when we were on the Canadian,
talking about the time when’ we’d take
a train every day for Callforny anywhere
along about here.' I thought a man that
would speak in that wise, bad a head
light enough to carry him over the Bdoky
Mountains like a balloon, I bate such
nonsense.’
'Not so fast,’ interposed old Bill Wil
liams, who was a man of superior type,
when compared with most mountain
men. Bill had been a preacher in bis
day, and was n shrewd though very pe
culiar personage. ‘Not so fast. There’s
no telling what enterprise and science
may do,’ he continued, 'who knows
what deposits of coal may lay beneath
our feet? If such should be the case—
and I for one believe It—the energy of
our people will soon drag it to light.. As
to the savages, there will be a way found
to keep them tolerably quiet. Anyhow
they’ll soon be wiped out.’
‘Listen to that,’ exclaimed Sam With
ers, taking the pipe froih bis mouth, and
gazing at old Bill with a look of mingled
incredulity and disdain.
‘Bill,’ be continued, ‘what’s the matter
with that head of your’n ? Why the very
beavers would laugh to bear you go on in
that way.’ ~
‘Maybe,’ replied the old man.
‘There ain’t any ‘maybe’ about re
turned Withers. ‘A man's putty nearly
crazy when he talks that way. These
prairies has got to be built with towns.
Trees has got to be planted. Yes, whole
forests of ’em. People has got to live all
the way from Missoury to Callforny afore
you see the thing you’re talking about.
Now when'do you suppose this will come
to pass 7’
‘Come, never, mind your railroads,’
cried Jim Bboads. ‘Here, Sam, I want
to play you a game of seven-up; there’s
plenty of daylight left,’ and be produced
a pack of greasy cards from his packet.
Bhoades and Withers were soon deep
in their game, and the railroad topic
came to an abrupt close.
" As night drew on, we ioy watching
(be stars, when Wilbers suddenly ex
claimed, turning to Williams;
‘Bill, guess who I’m thtukln’ about,—
What on alrth ever put that in my head?’
The only reply Williams vouchsafed
was a grunt.
‘Who ara you thinking of, Sam ?' I in
quired.
‘Mad'Job Hazel, 1 he replied. 'lt’s bin
years since a thought of him came o’er
my mind.’
Williams moved uneasily on' bis blan
ket, and muttered something about Sam
holding bis tongue,
'Tell me the story, Bam,’ I said. ‘l’ve
beard something about It, but no one
ever felt Inclined to repeat it In full.'
‘Well, ’taint an'agreeable subject when
one wants a quiet sleep, but I'm not
much superstitious, so If you want it I’ll
tell you how It was.’
He paused 'for a few momenta, glanc
ing at old Bill, who was now snoring,
and then proceeded as follows. 1
‘Job Hazel came from the neighbor
hood, of Independence, That's a good
while afore you appeared In these parts;
you wasn't tbinkin’ much about beaver
traps la those days. He was os likely a
young fellow as I ever sow. Tall, blue
eyed and tough as a grizzly. He wan
dered about a good deal at first, and there
was plenty of room, you aee. When all
of a sudden ho stiuok a tall for Canon
olto. 'Twas astonishing how soon ho
got into the ways of the ' Mexicans.
’Twasn’t no time at all afore he spoke
their tongue so well that you’d have
sworn he was born among ’em. There
was a girl who took Job’s eye. I often
saw her! She was a pretty little thing,
with a brown akin and great black eyes.
Well, Job married her, that Is to say af
ter the Mexican fashion. But it was
good euongh for all that. He thought
the world of her, and every time he’d
come Into the settlements, he seemed
fairly to eat her up. for love, * She was as
soft on him as he was oh her, I always
thought those two were mighty happy.
‘Well one day Job stalled away, and
didn’t return for nigh five months. In
the meantime those rascally Apaches, in
one of their sheep stealing expeditions,
picked up Job’s wife, and carried her
away.
: ‘When Job got back home his wife had
been gone three months. He didn’t re
semble his old namesake much for pa
tience. They say he raved and swore
and hurt everybody that came In his
way. Ido believe he went crazy right
off, for he was always a quiet fellow. He
didn’t waste any time about the pueblos
after that, but mounted bis mustang and
rode away; From that blessed
be was the sworn enemy of Injuns. But
you see bis bead was wrong, and he con
sequently made no distinction atween
them; Every Injun to him was an Apa
che,'and he killed him on sight. Mat
ters at last got to be party bad, for he was
killin' right and left! His rifle was al--
ways smokin’. Borne friends got after
him, but they soon let him alone, for he
was too dangerous. You could hear of
him everywhere, and there was always
blood in his trail. I never could under
stand why ho wasn’t killed, for be was
huntin’lnjuns every minute of his life.
He must have been mighty cunning in
bis ways. I never saw but once after his
trouble. Then I had been to Fort Wa- '
ehitn.when one morning, about daylight,
I beard the sound of horse's hoofs com
ing paty fast. I squatted behind some
cotton-wood bushes, and the next min
ute Job Hazel came tearing by, with such
a wild look on bis face that I pitied him.
Hallo I I ioried. He gave his mustang '
such a Jerk, that the beast sat square
down on bis haunches. Then Job looked
at me curiously, but I’m sure he didn't
know me, for he never said a word, but
wheeled his horse and rode on.
VIkGIHIA.
1 ’Twas strange to find him away
there,’ I thought, but at that time I didn’t
know bow be wandered. I think he
must have killed more. Injuns unneces
sarily than any man that ever lived on
hese plains.
•There was a mountain man named
Jack Crosby. Job and him used to be
fast friends, so Jack allowed that he could
induce Job to leave off his bloody work
and take to his traps again like a reason
bie man. You see, Jack didn’t- believe
that Job was crazy. It wasn’t an easy
thing just to tell where to find a man
who ranged like Job Hazel, You might
look for him on the Colorado, while he
might be that minute on the Trinity.
Well, Jack was good six months afore be
struck bis trail, but he followed it up all
the while, and neVer once let up. All.
this was nothing but friendship, you may.
say. Well, at last he got up with Job as
be was one day ridin’ along the top of
the Canon de la Copa.
•To the surprise of Jack, Job made a
pretty desperate attack on him. He shot
at him twice. But Jack wot set on
brlngin’ him in; so be tried to grapple
him, intendin’ to tie him with a lariat,
and make sure of blm. But Jack hadn't
.calculated on Job’s heft, and it was as
much as be could do to keep clear of the
knife he carried. Finally he had to let
go bis bold; then Job started bis horse at
a run, with Jack close at his heels, when
alien a sudden Job struck spurs into
his mustang, and he leaped him off Into
the air-
‘Jack said bis blood never run cold
afore that day. He turned about and
rode two miles back till be got to the
mouth of the canon, and rldin’ In, com
menced to search for Job Hazel, You
better believe he found ’em, but both
horse and rider wore smashed all to pie
ces. Yon couldn't have told that there
had ever been anything human in the
heap of blood and flesh that laid down by
them boulders. Jack said it made him
sick when he came on the sight.
‘Now what I’m going to tell you in
conclusion is a fact, though I suppose
you won’t believe it. But it’s true for all
that. Old Bill, knows It as well as the
rest of us; only he won't own up to It.—
The fact is. Job Hazel’s ghost rides the
Plains to this minute. I never saw it
but once, but Bill has twice. It was a
clear moonlight night when he came
upon me unawares. I was in camp by
the Little Boggy. I could see all around
me as light as day. ' I can swear that
there was no one about a minute afore,
when on a sudden a horsemen comes
rldin’ like mad. He passed within ten
feet of me, and as I looked into bis face
I saw him os clear as I now see you. He
looked at me. with that wild stare they
say he always wore, and he was awfully
pale. Bis long hair streamed out from
bis shoulders, and bis throat was bare,
for his huntin’ shirt was opened all the
way down bis chest. Bangin’ at his sad
'tile-bow wasa whole string of Injun scalps
that flopped up and down with a. noise
that sounded like a torn sail in the wind.
'I never believed In ghosts till then,
but I have ever since, for I know for
sure that Job Hazel’s spirit la ridin’ up
and down the Plains seekln’ bis lost
wife.
At oue of our churches on Sunday,
while the organ was playing vociferous
ly, a good lady whispered to her neigh
bor In the pew had to raise her voice
quite high la order to be heard. Sudden
ly the organ changed from loud to soft,
when the lady, not taking note of the or
gan, was beard to say to her friend, ‘We
fry ours In butter.’ Perhaps the congre
gation didn’t snicker-
The British Government has receiv
ed from France an official notification
of the abrogation of the commercial
treaty.
A NOTORIOUS BANDIT.
Tomaso Redondo, alias Proooplo, al
though a young man, In one of the most
fearless and daring desperadoes that has
ever figured in the criminal annals of the
West, He was born in Sonoro, Bower
California, in 1841. His parents were of
mixed Spanish origin, and. were, like a
number of others of the same class, of
roving habits.. His father was a vaguero,
and ,Tomaso at an early age was taught
the same business. Being of a reckless
nature, he soon distinguished himself in
that avocation. His mother was a sister
of the notorious Joaquim Murleta, whose
deeds of violence have classed him as the
most notorious desperado on the Pacific
Coast. Early in the year 1853 his parents
romoved from Sonoro. Getting their ef
fects together, the family traveled north
ward, finally settling in Los Angeles
comity. Young Bodendo soon became,
familiarized With daily stories of crime.
He had not been long In bis new home
before he gained the reputation of being
a fearless rider and a reckless youth.—
When bat a mere boy, In tbe year 1859,
be murdered a man named John Balnea,
on the Cucamungo Ranch, In the south
western section of Los Angelos county.
A short time after this he removed Into
the northern counties of California, and
finally settled in Almeda county. He
associated himself with a dating gang of
desperadoes, whose headquarters were In
Livermore Valley. Here bis wild and
reckless disposition became known to
the members of the gang, and in a
short time be assumed control of the des
peradoes and acted as thier leader. The
farmers In that section of country re
member. distinctly tbe nocturnal visits
of Ithese marauders, and the deeds of vio
lence which were 1 perpetrated daily
about the year 1860. Shortly after he as
sumed control of the gang, a family by
tbe hame of Golden, who lived in Corral
Hollow, were murdered. Tbe family
consisted of Golden, and his wife and
two children, all of whom were brutally
assassinated. A cattle-herder (a Mexi
can) stated that be had witnessed the
mdrder, and said that Procopio.(ihe name
that Bodendo was known by In thst vi
cinity) was the guilty party. The herd
er’s story was unheeded, and be himself
perished on the scaffold fOr a crime of
which be was innocent.
10 the year 1868 Prooopio, Narclsae,
and another man were suspected of hav
ing stolen a lot of cattle from u farmer by
■ the name of Pope, whose ranch was on
tha Arroya Vaya. Pope wont to San
Leandro, procured a warranl and placed
it in the bands of Constable O. B. Wood,
who bad been informed that Procopio
was in Alvarado. He proceeded thither,
and caught his man in the act of receiv
ing money from August Mays, a butcher
.in that place. Wood seeing his man,
drew his pistol and coyered him with it,
at the same time telling him to throw up
his’handa, .Procopio said ho was unarm
ed, and Wood returned the pistol to hla.
pocket. No sooner bad he done so than
Procopio drew his pistol and fired at
Wood, the ball taking effect in his arm.
The effect of the shot Was so great as to
cause Wood tostagger; and beforehe'conld
recover himself, Procopio started to run
through the main street of the town, at
the same time nourishing bis revolver.—
A number o( people followed him, and
others observing that he was running in
the direction of the bridge, took posses
sion of it, thus preventing aU escape in
that quarter. Finding be was blocked,
Procopla took his pistol between his
teeth, leaped into , the water and swaoe
across.' The stream, at the piece where
he plunged in was fifty or sixty feet wide.
After gaining the opposite bank he start
ed to run in the direction of the salt
marsh, closely followed by the' officers
and citizens. Finding that be was being
run dowu, he turned on his pursuers and
commenced firings! them. They return
ed the firs, but he escaped injury. Fi
nally,bis ammunition being expended.be
gave himself up. He was taken to San
Leandro and tried for the robbery of
Pope’s battle. During die (rial he as
sumed all the responsibility of his ac
complices’ guilt. He was convicted and
sentenced to the state prison for the term
of nine years. Last March bis term of
sentence expired, and be was accord
ingly liberated.
Last April he returned to the old
stamping-ground at Livermore Valley,
and remained quiet for. about six weeks;
but bis thieving propensities were so
strongly developed that he had to return
to bis old manner of living.. He began,
bis career a second, lime by driving off a
number of cattle belonging to John Ar
nott, and drove them to that portion of
Livermore known as Honors, It was
suspected that he was the parly engaged
In stealing the cattle, and a warrant was
issued for his arrest and placed in the
bands of the Deputy Sheriffs Ralph Fa
.villa and J. M. Smith. They proceeded,
to Livermore, where Favllle found a
bead, hide, and horns of one of the mis
sing cattle in the yard of Juan Camargo,
covered with ashes. They arrested Ca
margo and brought him to Pleasanton.—
The same night they arrived there, a
party of armed men, about fifty in num
ber, seized the Deputies, locked them In
their rooms, and took Camargo to a place
in the woods about three miles distant
from Pleasanton, where, placing a rope
around his neck, and throwing one end
of it over the limb of a tree, they began
to “lift” him. They hung him a num
ber ot times, and extorted from him a
confession relative to the cattle thieves
in that vicinity. Frocoplo heard of this
affair and made bis way out of Che county,
traveling south. He made San Juan (in
Monterey) his rendezvous. With a num
ber of others, be-robbed a stage station
on the Salinas River, and soon after rob
bed the Visalia stage, and made himself
generally obnoxious to residents in that
ceunty. He afterwards went to Calav
eras county, A few days ago Sheriff
Hi
arry Morse, of Aiemeda county, re
ceived a telegram' from Chief Crowley,
informing him that Procoplo bad been
■een in this city, and that the detectives
bad struck bis trail, and were bunting
him up. Sheriff Morse came over to the
city, accompanied by Lee C. Moorebouae,
one of .his deputies, Detectives Stone
and Bohen were detailed to co-operate
with the officials, and' the party started
at once in search of the bold Procoplo.—
They bad information that be frequented
a bouse In St. Mark’s place but failed to
And’ bim there. A watch was kept on
the premises, however, and one day last
week, a descent was mads on the estab-
VOL. 58.—43.
lisbment. Morehouse, Htone and Bohen,
entered at the front door, while Morse
went round to the rear entrance. Look
ing In at the back door, the Sheriff saw
.Prscopio seated at the table facing the
front door. 4stho officers entered from
the street, the deaperado sprane from bis
seat, and was about to draw his revolver,
when Morse ‘rushed up behind; seized
him bytho throat With ope band, while
he leveled a revolver at his head with
the other, and casually remarked: "Put
up your hands, Proooplo—you are my.
man.” The other officers almost simul
taneously gi-appled the bandit, and be
was led like a lamb to the Oakland boat,
and taken to San Leandro, where he now
reposes in Jail. —CaUfomia Paper.
THE BBMI IOVER.
The following I find in my scrap-book
copied from a French letter long ago:
At the time of Francis I. of France was
taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia, one
of his officers, the valorous Chevalier
Beauregard, smitten by the charms of an
Italian lady, of noble family; named Au
relia, who, though flattered by thedeolar
atloh of the gallant soldier, refused bis
suit on the ground of the levity of the
French character, and the natural Indis
cretion ,of the people. But Beauregard
wiw ,not to bo put off so easily. The
depth of the fever of bis love led him to
propose to the lady to pul his constancy
to-any proof she might think proper;—
Aurelia at length accepted the terms of
the proposition, and engaged to marry
him if, for the space of six months, he
would remain utterly and entirely
dumb. • . '
The Chevalierpromised, and then
with a silent bow, withdrew from the
lady’s presence; and from that moment
be opened not his lips with the sound of
human speech. He returned to Paris,
where bis friends' and relations were
stricken with sorrow at tbe\Crrlble inr
flrmlty Which bad fallen upon him, for
his bad been a voice musical and enter
taining. Beauregard expressed - bis
wants by dumb signs, and seldom smiled.
The best physicians were sent for, but he
refused to see them.,
The captive Kins waa at' length set
free and restored to bis people ; but bla
joy on his returp to bla capital was dl
minlsbed by tbe sad misfortune which
bad befallen the Chevalier, who had been
tbe monarch's chief favorite. Francis
sent hla best doctors to the stricken sol
dier, wbo, out of. respect for bis royal
master, took the mediolnes.prescribed,
but with no effect. The King even went
se far as to employ the charlatans and tbe
necromancers, who then, as now, profess
ed to hold specific for all sorts of diseases.
The nows spread abroad, and great was
the sorrow. Tbe court and the people
bad become hopeless of bis cure, when a
fait Italian maiden, professing to be a
fortune teller, appeared before the King,
and informed him that she would under
take to restore the Chevalier to his
speech. The Kitig would not oast away
an opportunity. He summoned Beaure
gard to bis presence, and told him that a
physician had come who promised to
cure him but tbe Chevalier bowed low
in silent discredit- Tbe King nodded to
the fair stranger, and asked her what she
would do. .
"Beauregard, ray tried and cherished,''
she said, turning to the Chevalier, “this
must endure no longer. Speak to met"
The Chevalier instantly recognized bis
beloved Aurelia, who had truly loved
b’im, and whose heart bad been deeply
touched by the proof of his constancy
and devotion, and. be pronounced her
name in rapturous tone as be dew to
take her outstretched band-
Francis was sensibly affected by the
romantic event, and be presented bis re
stored favorite with a rich estate at his
marriage.— N. Y. Ledger.
A FlRtt-OIASS COUEOTOR.
Is on time to a minute when the debt
or says "come to-morrow at 9 o’clock."
Bits on the steps and waits for his re
turn when he says “ I am Just going to
dinner. 11
Insists on stepping out to make bhangs
when the man "has dotblng less than a
twenty." ,
Will go for an old stager every day for
a month with a cheerful countenance
about that little account.
Doesn’t mind edging into a erowd to
ask a fellow.
Will take a dollar in part if be. can’t
get ten in whole, and credit it with
thankful alacrity.
Always suggests a cheek when the
money is not at band, as he can get It
cashed to-morrow. . .
Always has that account on top so
the man can make no excuse for pht-
ing him off.
Don’t mihd asking him for it imme
diately after being treated and pleas
antly entertained. .
Is never in a hurry; can wait till you
get through.
Cuts off the retreat of the dodger by
crossing over to ineet him, or follows
him into a.store In which he has gone
to hide.
Can cough or salute when the hard
case wishes to pass by without seeing
him.
In fine is patient as a post, cheerful
as a duck, sociable as a flea, brave as a
lion, water-proof os a rubber, cunning
as a fox, and watchful as a sparrow
hawk.
An Irishman took a contract : to dig
a.public well. When he had j dug down
about twenty-five feet, be came one
morning and found it caved in, filled
nearly to the top. Pat looked cau
tiously around and saw that nobody
was near, then took off his hat and
coat, hung them on the windlass,
crawled Into some bushes and awaited
the resalt. In a short time the citizens,
discovered that the' well had caved in,‘
and seeing Fat’s hat and coat on the
windless, they supposed that he was at
the bottom of the excavation. Only a
few hours of brisk digging cleared the
loose eairth from the well, and Just as
the ‘eager citizens had reached the
bottom, and were'wondering where the
body was, Pat came out of the cashes
and goad natumdly thanked them for
relieving him of a "sorry Job.” Some
of the tired diggers were disgusted, but
the Joke was too good to allow any
more than the hearty laugh that fol
lowed.
Rates of Advertising,
1 sq. 13 eg. 18 «q* | j «q; | o \ |j col
$l3 00 $33 UQ
H 55 , 20 »
10 00 1 SO «
18-06 - S 3 {4
2000 35 0Q
23 $8 37 tt
25 00 43 6Q
80 00 6000
40 00 75 00
75 00 100 06
1 w II 00 12 00 $3 00 |i 00 nOO
2 M 160 S.OO 400 6.00 900
8" 200 -400 609 600 II 00
4•• 250 4JS 675 .$ 36 12 50
6** 800 560 660 .7 60 14 w
,6” 360 460 17 60 <8 60 1660
2m 400 760 860 960 17 60
3“ 600 860 060 I 9 60 20 00
O'* 760 10 00 12 60 16 00 23 00
17 10 001500290025004000
Twelve lines constitute a square.
For Executors’ and Adm'raV-Noticea, 84 00
For Audltor'aNotlces, 3 00
. For Assignees* and similar Notices,- r >3 09
For Yearly Cords, not exceeding six lines, 7 00
For Announcements five cents per Hpe, unless
contracted for by tho year. ‘ ‘ 1
For Business and Special Notices*,lO.cpnts per
line.
Doable column advertisements extra. ; 1 '•
BRIDAL TOURS.
Looking at the custom from an
I (esthetic and sentimental pointer view,
nothing can be more'repulsive. An
American marriage is, in theory,.a
love match; and it is so in practice.—
Now two persons in love want to seeaa
much as possible of each other, and aa
little as possible of other people. It la
true that we.find exceptions; there are
individuals whose diseased .vanity do*,
sires to give publicity to.every act of
their life. But the vulgarians, are,
happily, rare in any,class. An instinct ‘
of seclusion and modesty is the general .
rule. Vet this absurd custom forces a
newly-married couple either to ’put an
unnatural restraint upon their leglti- '
mate affection, or to make themselves
ridiculous before the public. All this
however, it may be suggested, is a
matter of taste. But ..what follows is
not a questionable point of taste or
comfort j.'it ia a matter of'downright
fact aa certain as. if it rould be mathe
matically demonstrated.TheconsUm
mation of marriage Is, with one except
tibn, the most critical period,physically
of woman’s life. After tho moral and
physical excitement which attends it,
her system, demands absolute rest, ,
repose, quiet, regular and good living,....
a supporting and restorative way of
life. If these can be secured 1 for sOme’
weeks, so much the better, but' iat any' ‘
rate they are necessary lor some days. >
Not only her. health for the rest of her,'
mortal existence; hut the* healthwnd ,
strength of her ofbpring may be, and
often are, materially, affected : by the' -
want of proper care at this time,.,: In-,
stead of Which the bridal tour piles on
additional excltement and, fatigue, ..
makes regularity of "life impossible— ~,
in short, involves the exact revefseof
all that tbe rules of health and physl
ology require/ ■
At peril of being thought'effeminate;
I .will go further and say that for the
maq,.top;at this time, repose and calm,
though not so necessary, are. highly :
desirable. It constantly happens that
in the case of both sexes, a slight in
disposition, which; passed unnoticed
in the hurry of preparation, Is aggra
vated to a serious apd even fatal extent
by the excitement qnd exposure and
neglect consequent on the wedding; ''
tour. No-man, for instance, would :
think of postponing his 'marriage fan'.
[ account of a slight cold. If he staid: •
quietly at home, afterward, and took ,
cafe of himself,,it would pass away like. .
other slight colds; he goes on a bridal
tour ia the depth of winter and the
malady develops into a chronic pulmo
nary complaint. Nor would a young
woman put off her marriage because
she felt a little extra lassitude and
want of appetite, with an occasional ,
headache, which, however, may, be
premonitory symptoms of typhoid.fe
ver. If yoti take typhoid lo time
there is' nothing specially dangerous
about it; care and patience only afe
necessary, and it runs its course. But
if neglected at first it IS almost inevita
bly fatal. Lust year two cases came
under ray observation, the one of a
bride, and the other of a bridegroom,
lying of typhoid Just after a wedding
trip, which has caused the early symp
tons to be misunderstood and neglected,'
And I have known things worse'tim'd :
death to happen—insanity, temporary
or permanent, brought on by the
extra fatigue and excitement of the
wedding Journey.
A TATTOOED AIBAHIAR.
“It seems probable,” says the Pall
Mali Gazette, “that among other dis
tinguished viators' to' liondoh during
the approaching season we are likely
to be favored with the presence of an
Albanian gentleman, aged forty, and
unmarried, whose appearance' alone
will insure him a warm 'welcome in
fahsionable circles.” He la according
to the Medizinitehe Waeheruohrifl of
Vienna, of middle height and beauti
fully and strongly built, and is tattooed
from “top to toe.” His whole body
looks as though it were tightly envel
oped in a wedding of richly wo
ven Turkish stuff. From the crown
of his headto'the tips of his toes he Is
covered with : dark blue figures ot ani
mals and plants, in the interspaces of
which appear to. be characters inbluo
and' cinnabar red. The hands are
tattoioed on bothsurfaces, but only with
inscriptions.
The blue figures stop
short at the Instep of the feet, but the
tattooing is continued along the toes to
the root of the nails in the form of. red
characters. Through - the very hairs of
tho scalp and of the beard, appear also
designs in blue. : On the forehead, one
oh either; side, are two ■ panthers,' sepa
rated in the middle by a lino of xed '
characters,, There are: altogether ..on- •
bis body three hundred and eighty-,
eight figures. All of these areof a bluo
color, and represents apes,. .leopards,!
cats, tigers, eagles, crownod sphynies,
storks, swims, men, women, elephants,; '
crocodiles, snakes, fish, lions, snails,
fruit, leaves, flowers, bows, arrows,,and .
?|uivers. The inscriptions on tbe;smr*
ace of the'hands belong, according to
Prof. Muller, to the IBhguage of Bur
mah. This interesting stranger is said
to have been tattooed as a punishment
in Chinese Tartary for supplying iqsur
gents With arms during a rebellion in
that country. He intends shortly to vis
it London; where he will no doubt
meet one of the 1 requirements of tbs
day—namely, .a person about whose
identity at any future time there cannot
be a shadow of doubt.
, It I* terrible to think of the agonies of
a woman of cultivation and refinement
when suffering under an attack of that
dread disease, kleptomania. An Instance
of heart-rending intensity took pises the
other day in Boston, An elegantly
dressed' Woman was detected In tbs very
act of plagiarizing a pair of silk stock
ings. She started, turned pale; and
buret Into, team, suddenly, conscious of
her guilt,‘and then, In the most'agoniz
ing manner, beaongbt the proprietor to
release her, and offered him a twenly
dollar note for the stockings. The gen
tleman kindly masoned with thesffloted
Woman; and then, taking the prlceofthu
stockings, retutnod hor the ohkngofrom
the tweutydollsr note., .The door wo
man then disappeared and was heard of
no more, although her bank note was, as
It was proved, a well-executed counter
feit.