The American Volunteer PUMU3HED BTERY THURSDAY MORNING John B. Bratton, on ice sours market sou abb. *Tbbi».—Two dollars per year if paid strictly la advance. Two Dollars and Fifty Cents if paid within three months, after which Three Dollars will be charged; These terms will be rigidly adhered to in every Instance, No sub scription discontinued, until all arrearages are pald. nnless at the option of the Editor. IMiaf. A QBAND OLD POEM;, We shall Jndge a man from manners t Who shall know him by his dress ? Paupers may be fit for princes, Princes fit for something less; Crumpled shirt and dirty Jacket, May beolothe the golden ore Of the deepest thought and feeling— Satin vest could do no n?ore. There are springs of crystal nectar Ever welling out of atone; There are purple buds and golden. Hidden, crushed and overgrown; God. who ooants by goals, not dresses; Loves and prospers you and me, While ho values thrones the highest But as pebbles In the eea. Man, upraised above his fellows. 6ft forgets his fellows then.; Masters, rulers, lords remember That your meanest, mind are men; Men by honor, men by feeling. Men by thought, and men by fame Claiming equal rights to sunshine, la a man's ennobling name. There ars foam, embroidered oceans, There are little weed clad rills; There are feeble. Inch-high saplings. There are cedars on the hills; God, who counts by souls, not station, For to him all famed distinctions Are as pebbles on the sea. Tolling hands alone are builders Of a nation’s wealth or fame; Tilted laziness is pensioned. Fed and fattened on the same By the sweat of other’s forehead’s,. Living only to rejoice; • While poor man’s outraged freedom Vainly lifteth up Its voice. . Truth andjustioe are eternal, Born.wlth loveliness and light; Secret wrong shall never prosper While there is a sunny right; God, whose heard voice is singing Boundless love thyou and me, Sinks oppression with its titles, As the pebbles in the sea. SPteeteeon*. MARRIED IS A SNO¥-STORM. TRANSLATED PROM THE RUSSIAN OP ALEXANDER PUSHKIN; About the year 18X1, memorable in Russian history, there lived upon his estate of ISTemaradof, a rich landed pro prietor, Gabrilovitob by name, noted for his affability and hospitality.. His bouse was always open to his friends and neighbors, who used to congregate there every evening—the older ones to enjoy a game of cards with the host and bis wife Pretrowua, the younger ones in the hope of winning the favor of Marie, a beautiful girlof seventeen, the only daughter and heiress of Gabrilovitob. 1 Marie read French novels, which nat urally rendered her very sentimental and romantic. Under these circumstan- ces, love was not long in coming. The object of her affections was a Russian cadet, with scarcely a penny in his pocket, who resided In the neighbor hood, and was then at home on a leave of absence. * As a matter of course, he re turned her love with equal and faith ful ardor. Marie’s parents had strictly pro hibited her from thinking of such a union and they treated,, the lover, when they met him, with Just as much friendliness as they would have shown an ex-collec tor of taxes. The amorous pair mean time carried on a correspondence, and met clandestinely beneath the shade of the pine grove, or behind the old chapel. As will readily be supposed, they here vowed eternal fidelity to each other, complained of the severity of fate, and devised beautiful plaps for the future.— After some time they naturally came to think that, shouid their parents persist ia opposing the union, it might in the end be consummated secretly and with out their consent. The young gentle man was the first to propose this, and the young lady soon saw the expediency of it. The approach of winter soon put an end to these stolen, interviews, but their letters increased in frequency and warmth. In each of them Vladimir Niokolovltcb conjured his beloved to leave the paternal roof and consent to a' clandestine marriage. ‘We will remain for a abort while,’ he wrote, ‘come bach and cast ourselves at the feet of pur pa rents, who, touched by such constancy, will exclaim, ‘Come to our arms, dear children!’ Marie was long Irresolute. At length It was agreed, however, that she should not appear at supper on a day appointed, but should not remain In her room un der a pretext of Indisposition. Her m aid had been let into the secret Both were to escape by a back door, in front of which they would find a sleigh ready to convey them five wrests, to the chapel of Jadrlno, where Vladimir and the priest would await them. Having, made her preparations, and written a long, apoipgetlcal letter to her parents, Marie retired betimes to her room? She. had. been complaining all day of headache, and this was certainly no mare pretext, for the nervous excite ment had in truth indisposed her. Her father and mother nursed her tenderly, asking her again and again : “ How do you feel now, Maria 7 Are you no bet ter?” This, loving solicitude out the girl to the heart, and with the approach of evening her excitement increased.; At supper she pta nothing, but rose be times and bade her parents good night. The latter hissed and blessed her, as was their wont, while Marie could scarcely suppress her sobs. Having reached her room, she threw herself into a chair and wept aloud. Her maid finally succeeded in comforting and cheering her up. In the evening a snow storm arose. The wind howled about the bouse, caus ing the windows to. rattle. The inmates had hardly gone to rest,- wheu the young girl, wrapped herself in her clothes and furs, and followed by the servant with a port manteau, left the paternal roof. A Sleigh drawn by three horses, received them, and away they went at a furious speed. Vladimir had also been active through out the day. In the morning he called upon the minister at Jadrlno to arrange for the ceremony, and then he went to look up tbs required witness. The first acquaintance to whom he applied was an officer on. half pay, .who expressed himself quite ready to serve him. Such an adventure, be said, carried him back to the days of his youth. He deter mined Vladimir to remain with him, taking upon himself to procure the oth er two witnesses. There accordingly appeared at dinner surveyor Smith, w ll h ilw Imerifaii BflltmtMr. BY JOHN B. BRATTON. 'bis spur sand moustache,'aha Ispiavlnk’s bod, a lad of seventeen, who had Wit just enlisted with,the Uhlans. £oth prom ised Vladimir their assistance, and after a cordial embrace the happy lover parted from his three friends (ocontemplme his preparations at home. Having dispatched a trusty servant with a sleigh for Marie, he got into a one horse sleigh himself, and took the toad leading to Jadrino. Scarcely bad be set off, when the storm burst forth In vio lence, and soon every trace of the way was gone. The entire horizon was cov ered with thick, yellow clouds, discharg ing not flakes, bat masses of snow. At last it became impossible to distinguish between earth and sky. In vain Vladi mir beat about for the way. His'horse went at random, now leaping over banks of snow, now sinking into ditches, and threatening every moment to overturn the sleigh. The-insupportable thought of having lost the road had become a cer tainty. The forest of Jadrino was no where to be discovered, and after two hours, the jaded animal seemed to drop to the ground, at length a kind of dark line became visible in the distance.— Vladimir urged his horse forward, and reached the skirt of the forest. Ho now hoped to reach his destination soon, as it was easier, to pursue his way, in the forest, into *hlch the enow had not yet penetrated. Vladimir took fresh cour age—however there were no signs of Ja drino. By degress the storm abated, and the moon shone brightly. He Anally reached at the opposite skirt of the for est. Still no Jadrino, but a group of live or six houses met his view. His knock at the door of the nearest was answered hy an old man . ‘What do you want ?’ said he. * Where lies Jadrino V asked Vladimir. ‘About ten wrests distant., At this reply Vladimir felt as If his sentence of death was being announced to him. 'Can you procure me u horse to take me.thitber?’ be asked. ‘We have no horses.’ 'Or at least u guide. I will pay any price.* ‘Very well. My son can accompany the gentleman.’ After a while, which seemed an eter nity to Vladimir, a young fellow made hlu appearance, holding a thick staff In his band, and they took their way across the snow-covered plain.. . ‘What o’clock is it ?’ asked Vladimir. ‘lt Is already past midnight.’ And in very truth the aim began to gild the East, when they finally arrived at Jadrino. The church door was locked. Vladimir paid and dismissed his guide, and then instantly to the ministers dwelling. What he there learned will appear from the sequel. At Nemaradof the night had passed quietly. In the morning the' master of the bouse and bis wife arose as usual, and proceeded to the dining-room—Ga briel Gabrilovitob in bis woolen jacket ond night-cap—Petrowna in her morn ing gown. After they had breakfasted, Gabriel.sent up one of the girls to in quire how Marie was. She returned with the message that her young mis tress bad a sleepless night, but she was feeling better now, and would come down presently. Marie soon after en tered the room, looking exceedingly pale, yet without the least perceptible agitation. ‘How do you feel this morning, love? 1 inquired her father. ‘Better,* was the answer. The day passed by as usual j but, in stead of the looked-for improvement, a serious change for the worse took place tn Marie’s condition. The family phy sician was summoned from the nearest town, who found her in a state of most violent fever. For fourteen days she lay at the point uf death. Nothing transpired of the nocturnal flight, for the maid took great care to keep silence on her account, and others who knew of it never betrayed them selves with a syllable, even when under the i utlueuee of brandy, so great did they dread Gabriel’s anger. Marie, however, spoke so Incessantly Of Vladimir when delirious, that her mother could not remain In doubt as to the cause of her illness. Having advised witli a few friends, her parents resolved to let Marie marry the young soldier, seeing that one cannot escape one’s lute, and, besides, that riches do not always lead Co’ happiness. The patient recovered. During her illness Vladimir bad not ones showed his lace in the house, and it was resolv ed to apprise him of his unexpected good fortuue. But to the astonishment of the proud proprietor Nemaradof, the cadet declared that he should never again cross the threshold of bis house, begging them at the same time to forget utterly so wretched a creature as he, to whom death alone would give repose. A few days afterward, they learned that Vladimir was again returned to the army. It was in the year 1812. No one uttered bis name in Marie’s presence and she herself never made mention of it in, any,’way. Two or three months bad elapsed, when one day she found bis name among the list of the officers who had distinguished themselves at the battle of Borodino, and had been mor tally wounded. She fainted away and had a relapse, from which she recovered slowly. Not long after her father died, be queathing his whole property to her.— But riches were not able to comfort her. She wept with her mother, and promis- ed not to leave her. They sold Nemar adof, and removed to another estate. Suitors thronged round the wealthy and amiable heiress, but none of them re ceived the slightest encouragement from her. Often did her mother press her to ohooue a husband—she would shake her head In ailonce. Vladimir was no more—he died at Moscow on the evening before the entrance of the Frenob. Marie seemed to bold bis mem- ory sacred ; she carefully preserved Che books they had read together, hie sketch es, the letters be bad written to her—in brief, everything that oould serve to keep alive the remembrance of tbe Ill fated youth. About tbia time tbe war, fraught with such glory to tbe allies, of whom Russia was also one, came to an end. Tbe vic torious regiment returned home, and large crowds of people flocked together to greet them. Officers who bad gone orth as beardless youths, came back with the grave faces of warriors, Oielr gallant faces covered with badges. - A lieutenant of hussars, Wurmln.by name, with an interesting pale face, and decorated with the cross of st. George, having obtained leave of absence for sev eral months, took up bis residence upon his estate, which adjoined Marie’s pres ent abode. The young girl received him with far more favor than she had hith erto shown to any of her visitors. They resembled each other In many respects— both were handsome, taciturn 1 and re served. There , was something myste rious about Wurmin, which roused the curiosity and Interest of Marie. His af factions for her were soon unmistakable; he showed her every conceivable atteu* ■ tion; why did he never speak of love; but though his dark ardent eyes would rest upon her half dreamlngly, half with an expression that seemed to announce an easy and positive declaration ? Al ready the neighbors spoke of their mar rlage as a settled matter, and mother Petrowna was more than happy at the thought of her daughter finding a worthy husband at last. One morning, when the latter was sit ting in the parlor, Wurmio entered and asked for Marie. 'She is in the garden,’ answered her mother. ‘You will find iny daughter there, if you would like to see her. The young officer hastily walked out into the garden. Petrowna crossed herself murmuring: ‘God be praised 1 To day, I trust his visit will have some result.’ Wurmln found bis beloved/clad in white, sitting under a tree by the side of a pond, a book upon her lap, like hero ine of romance. The usual salutation* over, Wnrmiu, who was etranely agita ted, told her how be bad long yearned to pour but his heart before her, and begged that she would listen to him a few moments. She closed her book and nodded in token of assent. ‘I love you,’ said Wurmin, 'I lo.ve you passionately.’ Marie cast down her eyes. *1 have been imprudent enough to see you, to hear you, daily. It is now too late to escape my fate. The thought of your lovely face, of your sweet voice, will henceforth constitute the joy and anguish of my existence. But I have a duty to perform towards you. I .must reveal to you a secret, which has an in surmountable barrier between us.’ 1 ‘That barrier,’ murmured Marie, ‘ex* isted always—l could never have become yours.’ !I know,’ replied Wurmln in a sup pressed voice, 'that you have loved be fore ; but death—three long years of mpurning—dearest .Marie, do not prive mo of my last comforts of the blissful thought that you might become mine if-r-’ ‘Cease, I conjure you! You rend my heart!’ ‘Yes, you will grant me the comfort of knowing that you would have become mine; but most wretched of men that I am—l am already married.’’ Marie gazed up at him with a look of astonishment. ‘Yes, married for four years,’ continu ed ihollooteuaut, 'and I do not know either who my wife is, where she is. or whethetberl shall ever meet her.’ .‘Explain yourself more clearly.’ said the girl. ‘I love you, Marie, and will confide In you. You shall know all, and will not judge too severely an act of youthful levity. It was in the year 1813. I hap pened to be on my way to Wilna, with the- intention of joining my regiment. Late in the evening I reached my sta tion, and had already ordered that hor ses should instantly be put to again, when a fierce snow-storm suddenly arose. My landlord and the postillion urgently advised me to postpone my de parture, but I was determined to go in spite of the tough weather the postillion had got into his bead that, by crossing a small river, the banks of which were perfectly well known to him, be should find’ a shorter route. He • missed the right crossing, however, and got Into a region to which he was uu entire stran ger. The storm continued to rage. At length we discovered a light at a distance. We made for It, and stopped before a church, from the brightly illuminated windows of which the light shone. The door was open, three sleighs were in front of it, and I saw several persons in the vestibule. One of them called to me; ‘This way! this way!’ I got out and walked toward the vestibule. The person who had called advanced toward me. ‘Great Heavens!’ he said, ‘how late you cornel Your intended has laiuted, and we were on the point of driving home.’ ‘Half bewildad and half amused, I re solved to let the adventure take its course. And, Indeed, I had little time for reflection. My friends tugged me iu to the interipr of the church, which was poorly lighted by two or three lamps.— A female was sitting on a bench in the shadow, while another stood beside her and chafed her temples. ‘At last!’ cried the latter. ‘God bs praised that you have oome ! My poor mistress liked to have died.’ An aged priest emerged from behind the altar, and asked, ‘Can we begin?’ ‘Begin, reverend father,’ I cried unad visedly. They assisted the half-unconscious girl to rise; she appeared to be very pretty. In a fit of unpardonable, and now quite incomprehensible levity, I readily step ped with her to the altar. Her maid and the three gentlemen present were so much busied with her as scarcely to throw a look at mo. Besides, tbe light in this part of the church was dim, and my head was muffled In the head of my oloak. In a few minutes the nuptial ceremony was over, and the priest, according to custom, desired the newly-married pair to embrace. ‘My young wife turned her pale charming little face towards me, and was about to rest her head upon my shoulder wllh a sweet smile—when sud denly, she stared at me as If turned Into stone, tottered, and with the cry of ‘lt Is not he 1’ fell to .the floor. ‘All the furies of bell lushed me out of the chnrcb. Before any one could think of staying me 1 had Jumped Into my sleigh, seized the reins, and was soon be yond the reach of pursuit.” Tbe lieutenant was silent. Marie, also, gazed in silence to the ground. CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 2,1873. 'And have you never discovered what become of tbe poor girl?’ she finally asked. 'Never. I know neither the name of tbe vlllage*wbere I was married, nor do I recollect tbe station where I stopped. At the time, my culpably frivolous prank seemed to me a matter of so little mo ment that as soon as there was no longer any pursuit to fear, I went to sleep in the sleigh, and did not awake till we arrived at another station. Tbe servant whom I bad with me was killed In battle; all my efforts to find out tbe postillou who drove us proved unavailing, and so every clue seems Indeed lost by . which I might again find the scene of that, for which I have now to suffer so heavily.’ Marie turned her pale face toward him, and took both his,, bands. The lieutenant gazed thunder struck into her eyes; a dim foreboding awoke In his breast, a vail suddenly dropped from his eyes. 'Marie! God. of Heaven, how cun I have been so blind! Marie 1 , was it in deed you? ‘I am your wife!’ was the only an swer of the girl, who sank fainting lutcf bis arms. A SHOCKING DEED* Particulars of the Murder of Two Smal Children by their Father, in Ohio. [From the Cincinnati Commercial.] Columbiana, pec. 13.— One of the most inhuman and brutal tpurdersever perpetrated in this part of the Slate was committed yesterday morning at 7 o’- clock, about three miles southeast of this place. Unban Q. Porter, the perpe trator of this horrible deed, and his family, consisting of wife and two little daughters, aged three and one years, resided in the same' house with his father-in-law, Mr. Henry P. Plieking er. Mrs. Porter and her three brothers, Jacob, John and Solomon, and her sis ter Lydia, werSJin the house, and all, except Mrs. Porter, were engaged in cracking walnuts. Erben Porter after going up stairs and putting on three shirts, came down with a hatchet, and seated himself with .the other members of the family, and commenced cracking and eating the nuts, showing nothing Unusual in his manner. After a brief interval Mrs. Porter went up stairs to attend to some work. Porter quietly arose and walked into an' adjoining room, where his oldest child was aloriej after closing the door he struck the child three blows with the edge of the sharp hatchet, cutting a terrible gash at each stroke on the top of the head, eith er of which would have produced al most- instant death. He then opened . the door leading into the room in which the other members of the family wore seated, and seized his youngest child, dragged it into the room and struck it two blows on the top of the head, bury ing the hatchet deep into the brain at I each stroke. He then walked into an, adjoining room and threw the hatchety all covered with blood and brains, info a wood-box, put on his hat and started out of the house, passing, as he did so, his wife, who, on hearing the first child utter a pitiful cry as ho struck it the first blow, had come down stairs to see what was wrong. On seeing her hus band throw down the hatchet, she ask ed him what he had done. His answer was that he had done what he ought to have done before, and he could not help it. She; hurried to the room where the deed had been committed, and seeing her cliildren lying in their own blood, ran out to the road and gave the alarm to the neighbors, several of whom lived near, and were on hand in a few min utes. Porter, after leaving the house, made his way at a rapid rate direct to this place, and thence to Leetonia. He was followed to this place by one of his neighbors. Despatches were sent in every direction, and a large number of persons started in pursuit of him. Im mediately on the receipt of the des patch at Lcetonlp, It was placed in Mar shall Bollln’s. hands, who, in about twenty minutes, saw Porter crossing the railroad track, and started after him. Porter turned round and gave himself up, admitting that he had com mitted the deed, and asked the officer to protect him from those who were in pursuit of him.' The Marshall brought the prisoner to this place on the 9.65 p. m. train, and he was immediately ar raigned before Josiah Bohrbaugh,Esq., for a hearing, when he pleaded not guilty to the charge of wilful murder. After hearing the testimony in the case, the justice committed him, for trial at the next term of the Court of Common Pleas, and sent him, under a strong es cort, to New Lisbon. i Something all Should Enow. A knowledge of simple remedies to bo used in cases of sudden illness or ac cident is very valuable. It is well for every one to understand what are the readiest antidotes to various kinds of poisons, what applications will soothe a burn,-how a severe cut should ba bound up, how croup should be treated until the physician arrives/ and other things of a similar nature. Without some such knowledge one is indeed helpless and useless in the emergencies which are constantly arising in the fam ily. There are many remedies for scalds and burns; ono which we have lately seen highly recommended Is an embrocation of lime-water and linseed oil. These simple agents combined form a thick, cream-like substance, which ef fectually excludes the air from the in jured partsand allays the inflammation almost instantly. This remedy leaves no hard coat to dry on the sores, but softens the parts and aids nature to re pair the injury in the readiest and most expeditious manner. The mixture may be procured in the drug stores; but not thus accessible, slack a lump “of quick-lime in water, and as soon os the water is clear mix it with the oil and shake well. If the cose is urgent, use boiling water over the lime, and it will become olear in five minutes. The preparation may be kept ready bottled in the house, and it will boos good when six months old as when first made. . , TATTLING, 0, is t here not som6 sunny spot, Whore wo might live and be forgot, Forgotten by the tattling crow, Who should bo marked with rod or blue, That when wo saw thorn wo might kuow They wore no friend but were a foe. o,la there not some pleasant dell, Where mischief-makers do hot dwell, Some place within this world of ours, Where we mighthlde for Just an hour. And think that what we say or do. Will only go from me to you. If such a place there can bo fouud. . A little peaceful spot of ground. Where busy mischief-making tongues. Are never heard from morn to morn, Whore poaco may spread her brilliant wings, And everything for Joy will sing. There friends would be our. friends Indeed, Forgiving alights they m/feht.rocelve. A ud shuu the bad"degradlng art,” Of planting “daggers In the heart; And then Ihor’d be no one to fret, *'or fall Into an angry pot.” 'TIs mischlol-makors.that remove, From every heart all “warmth ol love,'* They’ll ’proooh you with their sweetest stallo, You’d think thorn honey all tho while, Aiid.always seem to take your part. Until they pierce tho kindly heart. Oh, If the ralschlof-maklug crow, “Wore reduced to one or two,” - A happy world this earth would bo, For we poor mortals would be free. , A MISTAKE ALL ABOUND. ny a. p. nir.n, ‘A lice,’said Mr. Warden to his charm ing daughter, as the family sat at break fast, ‘I wish you to understand that yon are encouraging the attentions of a young man I do not like.’ Miss Warden blushed copiously: . ‘He is not the kind of person to whom I could think of seeing you married, and from this moment I wish you to discountenance him, in fact, -repel. .Do you hear?’ ‘Yes,’ she answered, timidly, while she blushed more deeply; ‘but—’ ‘But! I, want no huts, nor its nor ands 1 This fellow /’—he said it con temptously—‘is not the right style, and I forbid you having, anything to do with him! There’s an end of it.’ But after a pause, as if to upset his own theory about that being ap ‘end of it,’ he added: ‘He is a worthless fellow—a scape grace! Alice looked up indignantly, as if to speak. ■■ ‘Alice!’ said her mother reproach- fully. Poor Alice did not finish her. break fast, but stole away from the presence of her too exacting parent and wept. Not only had her father evinced his stern opposition to her lover, but had reviled him. That was too hard. . ‘What can he have against Robert?’ she sobbed. When Alice had loft the dining room, Mra. Warden asked her husband whom be alluded to. ‘Jack Carpenter,’ ho replied, indig nantly. ‘I have seen her with him sev eral times, and I only yesterday learn ed that he saw her home from the party last week.’ ‘I am shocked at her taste!’ said Mrs. Warden. ‘lt must be looked after,’ he rejoined. Alice Warden had a lover—an indus trious arid energetic young man, than whom none in the neighborhood gave brighter promise. The two were very much devoted to each other. His name was Robert Ogden—not Jack Carpenter. There was a misunderstanding. Young Carpenter had happened to be in Miss Warden’s several times of iate, and she had treated him pleasantly be cause they were old schoolmates. He \ad conducted her home from the par ty, but it was because Robert Ogdon had met with a slight accident, and was obliged to be helped home himself. Jack Carpenter, though of good fam ily, and himself a good-hearted fellow, was a little inclined to rakishness, and was not a desirable match for a young girl, when it came down to the matter of marrying. Mr. Warden' realized this, and, coming to the knowledge of his friendliness toward Alice, jumped to the'conclusion that he was her ac cepted lover. So it was Jack Carpenter he meant when he warned her against ‘that fellow,’ but she naturally thought it was Robert Ogden. ‘lt’s too bad 1’ she said to herself, a hundred times that day. It’s unjust— It’s cruel! There isn’t a stain on his character; and yet—oh, I’ll not stand Her resolution was formed. She do. termined to resist parental authority. Her first course was to go to her father and ask: him to reconsider—not to del cide hastily—to hear her—to— He . wouldn’t listen. She implored; He stormed. She grew defiant. He rhved—threatened to look her up—to drive her from his roof—to disinherit her. The interview was highly unsat isfactory. Then came a stolen meeting with Robert, She told him ail. ‘What can he have against me?’ he wondered. ‘I cannot imagine.’ ‘I will go to him, and—’ ‘No, not ?’ She thought of her father’s terrible anger, and dreaded a possible encounter. ‘Do not, Robert, promise me you won’t’. And he promised. Well, what was to be done ? Give each other up? Never! A thousand unreasonable and obstinate parents should nut stand in their way. They would elope. They would. The plan was not original; It was ‘old,’but good.’ A number of these stolen meetings followed. It was happiness. Their plans were finally matured. Alice came home one day with a mysterious parcel in a newspaper. She carefully concealed it from sight, took it to her and locked’it in a trunk. Daily she made frequent Journeys to her room, which was at the rear of the building, third story. Strange tilings were going on there, very slily. Keys rattled—trunks open ed and closed—a solitary vailse appear ed and disappeared at intervals. A beautiful moonlight night came. Mr. Warren softened a little, and offer d t o take Alice out riding in his buggy She declined—didn’t feel well and re tired to her room ns, early as eight o’clock. ‘That girl.’ said Mr. Warden,-‘is still moping about that fellow.’* He spoke os if he thought it quite wonderful that, two whole weeks had not effaced her love. • ‘She’ll*get over it,’ said Mrs. Warden. ‘How strange how preposterous,’ said Mr. Warden, ‘that a girl of her bringing up and surroundings should be willing, if allowed, to throw herself away pn one so worthless.’ ‘lt is.’ ‘The more so,’ pursued Mr. Warden, that there are many marriageable young men of better promise. There’s Rob Ogden for example—an exemplary jjoung man ; but I dare say she won’t loot: at him. Girls have no sense?’ ‘True.’ They talked sometime on the subject. Meantime the pretty ‘invalid’ had re paired to her mom, locked herself in, and taken a seat by the window. On the floor, by her Ibet, were a car pet bag, utterly stuffed, and that mys terious parcel. And she sat watching the moon with as much uneasiness as though she feared it was about to burst and endanger the house with flying fragments. When a distant clock struck nine her nervousness was heightened, and she quite trembled when she saw a human form appear on the top of the garden wall and descended into the garden, very awkwardly. It also stumbled over.vines and fell, but got up again. It halted under a peach tree, and im mediately a sound came up from the spot. It was a desperate imitation of a cricket’s chirp, but it would have pass ed for the screech of an owl as well. It was a signal. Alice lighted a match and immedi ately blew it out. That was a signal too. It conveyed to the form in the garden that the par ents were still in the front of the house, and that the coast was clear. The form then boldly approached the building, and stood almost under the window. ‘Alice, dear!’ascended from the form, in a cautious whisper. ‘Yes,Robert”— for the form was Rob ert Ogden’s. The valise came flying down. He caught it between his hands, while his nose was highly instrumental in avert ing its momentum. Alice unfolded the mysterious parcel, it was a rope ladder! As instructed, she threw one end from the window, and fastened the other to the bed post. Then she climbed out in to the moonlight. ‘Be careful, love.’ ‘Yes, darling.’ • Now, the bedstead stood at some dis tance from the window, and, as it was on castors, it required no great power to put it in motion; consequently, no sooner had Alice placed her whole weight on the rope ladder than she felt herself descending with rapidity, while the bedstead made a rush for the open window, as if to jump out after her— first making a rumbling noise, like an earthquake, then striking the wall with a bump that made the building quiver to its foundation. Alice was unnerved. ‘Hurry, dear!’ said Robert, who stood nervously clutching the vslise. She did hurry—top much. She miss ed her footing and her hold both at once, uttered a scream, and approached the earth like a meteor. ■Robert dropped the valise and caught her. He broke her fall, but it nearly broke his head. In fact the momentum was so great that they both fall to the ground in a heap. Hurried footsteps, voices and confus wera heard in the house. ‘Floe Robert—flee 1’ she cried. ‘And leave you ? Never!’ They had barely regained their feet when the back door flew open, and Mr. Warden rushed out flourishing a revol ver; He was followed by Mrs. War den. ‘Oh father 1’ Alice cried ; ‘kill me but spare him!’ ‘You’re a dead man !’ exclaimed the angry father. Alice and her mother both screamed. ‘Mr. Warden,’ said Robert, ‘you may kill mo, but you shall not tear Alice from me. I love her, and she is mine throughout eternity. He stood in the moonlight, a nobler picture than Ajax, while Alice sprang before him to receive the fatal bullet, if need be; but the sharp report did not split the night air. Mr. Warden lowered his revolver and took a stop backward, with every ex pression of astonishment. ‘Why—why, I declare 1’ ‘What?’ asked Mrs. Warden. Alice and Robert stared at the old gentleman with wonder. ‘This isn’t the feilowl’ exclaimed Mr. Warden. ‘Why, ’isn’t it Jack Carpenter ?’ ‘Well, who said it was father?’ asked Alice, whose perceptive faculties were now suddenly awakened to the truth. Mrs. Warden stared at Mr. Warden. He stared at her. Then they both stared at the young people. ‘Why, father,’ said Alice, ‘did you think it was Jack Carpentep ?’ ‘l—l—yes,’ stammered Mr. Warden. Alice now laughed outright. With a rapidity of thought for which women are remarkable under some circum stances, she traced the whole blunder, 1 from beginning to end, and it struck her ns charmingly ludicrous. ‘Why, I thought you meant Robert when—’ ‘No—no—no!’ interrupted Mr. War den, his eyes were also opened. ‘Why, Robert Ogden, my dear boy, I haven’t thesiigbtest objection to your character, I never knew you were a beau of Alice’s.’ ‘Why, father?’ Alice’s bashfulness began to return. A pleasant laugh went round. ‘Como In,’ sold Mr. Warden, cordi ally. , Robert Ogden accepted the invita tion, and Jio took upon himself tho task VOL 59 : -m 80. of carrying the valise, and when he got where the light was strong, perhaps you never saw a naan so thoroughly red In the face. Nevertheless, the remain der of the evening was spent pleasantly and happily too. The two young people did feel just a shade of disappointment because their elopement had been interrupted. It would have been so romantic, you know; but then, a month later, they were allowed to elope under less trying circumstances, and the hitherto hard parent witnessed the ceremony. A Eomarkablo Harder Trial in Tennessee. In Marshall county, Tennessee, there will soon be a trial for murder which will possess some singular, features. Three years ago a young man in Mar shall county was engaged to be mar ried to a young lady, whose family strongly objected to the union. The lover ran off with his intended twice, but was so closely watched and hotly pursued by the lady’s friends that it was Impossible for the wedding to take place. He made a third attempt, When he met the girl at an appointed place, and took her on a horse behind him. Tims they were going to find a minis ter to make them one, when two men sprang up at the roadside and called upon them to stop. The young man increased the speed of his horse, and several shots were sent after him. He rode on a little ways and fell from the horse dragging the girl with him. The assassins came up and commenced beating the wounded man unmerciful ly, lib begging them to desist as the shot he had received would soon finish him. The-murderers proved to bo the girl’s brothers, and they tried to force her to get op her lover's horse and go home with them. This she refused to do, even by the persuasion of a severe beating which they gave her. They then left the two helpless in the road, went homo and told their mother they had “fixed” that fellow, and left the parts to avoid arrest. The girl and her lover got to the house of one of her friends where they were married, and in a few hours the husband breathed his last. The assassins wero shortly after arrested, and before the day of their trial they managed to break jail and escaped to Texas. They were lately rearrested and brought back to Marshall county. They will be tried in a short time. The wife of the mur dered man, their own sister, expresses a determination to do all in her power to secure their conviction. She lives with her husband’s sister, and has not gone near her own family tragedy. Paper Comfortables.— The inode of making comfortables warmer, by lining with newspaper, is good as long as they 1 ist, which cannot be long es pecially 8 after washing a few times. I have tried a similar way of attaining the same object on cold nights when I have not had sufficient bedding over me, especially at hotels, where we can not get just what we want'. Throw off one or two of the top covers from the bed, then pull from the pocket or satch el two or three large newspapers—one very large one will do—spread, them over the bed and replace the cover, and you will have a .warm and comfortable night, without any perceptible increase in the weight of the bedding. Again; when you have a hard, cold ride in a cutter, of fen or twenty miles against the wind, place a spread newspaper over your chest before you button up your overcoat, and you will not become .chilled through. Nothing can bo cheap er, and as far as it goes, nothing more efficient. A Child’s 'Answer.—Some children at tbs dimior-lttlilo were discussing that which bus ofteu troubled . the heads of elder and wilder persons. ‘Wasn't Adam a good man before ho got a wife?’ ‘Of course bo was,’ answered a little girl. 'How long was be a good man after bo got bis wife?’ ‘A very short time.' ‘What made him a bad man after be got a wife?’ At this juncture a little fellow spoke up, ‘Miss Ann, lean answer that ques tion.’ ‘Well, what Is It?’ ‘Eve made him eat .the wrong apple? 1 an old lady read about the strike of the wire drawers in Worcester, Mass. She says of all the new-fangled things she ever heard of, wire drawers is the queerest. The rose baa its thorns, the diamond Is specks, and the best man bis fall- Happy, indeed, is a young ' mother when Bhu beholds her beloved lirat born’s Ist 2th. ‘XT is the motive with which we aot, and not the events of things that mattes us criminals. There. are emotions that one could never put into words without the dan ger of being ridiculous. ‘You gre the new boy? Look here, do you collect stamps?’ Second school boy: ‘Y-e-s.’ First schoolboy : ‘Then there’s one for you’—coming down heavily on the victim’s toes and then running oil. Half the failures in life' arise from |tbe pulling jo df one’s horse as he Is leaping. Bklf-uenial Is the most exalted pleasure, and the conquest of evil the moat glorious triumph. A coroner’s jury at Quincy, Illinois, found that on old lady, who died there suddenly, died ol superannuation. We cannot gather grapes from thorns, so we must not ezpaot kind attachment from persons who are folded up in selfish schemes. Bib Thomas Brown says that sleep is death's younger brother, and so like him that I never dare trust him without roy prayers. Rates of AdvertMng. No. times Isq. 3stj. * sq, t sq.iVi ° He I_odl. 1 week. »I 00 13 00 ta 00 Moo *7 113 00 *32 00 2 “ 160 SOO 400 600 SOO.MOO 25 00 3 ■' '2 00 400600000 U 00 f W 00 JO QO 5 :: IS JgrlS ?ia« SS »“ 0 •• s 6O “® OO 760 *5 S SflS Sm 2 months 4 00 7 50 BBC 9 g g S SSo SOO 8 :: SBSiSSiBBSiBBBSBSS|s 1 year,. 10 00 15 00 «00 35 00|«0 00 .7500 100 00 * cecuiora* and Admw. Notice® 9* >* idiU' * Y! Twelve For Ex< For Avu For Assl For Yew For Ann lens contrr For Bus! erllno. more’ Notices. Ignecfl* and slmil irly Cards, not oz< nouncemenU live rooted fot by the 3 Unoaa and Special column advei .Js< Doubl JigncultttraL THERE’S DAKGEB HT THE TOWK. BY JOHX H, TATES. There I John, hitch Dobbin to the post; com® near mo and sit down; Your mother wants to talk, to you before yon drive to town; My hairs are gray, I soon shall be at rest within the grave; / • * Not long will mother pilot you o’er life’s lom* postubns wave. I’ve watched o’er you from Infancy till now you are a man. And I have always loved you as a mother oulv can; At morning and at evening I havo prayed the God of love 4 To bless and guide ray darling boy to the br t homo above. , A mother’s eye Is searchlng»3ohn, old age can’t dim Its sight, When watching o’er an only child to see If he . does right; And very lately I have seen what has aroused my fears, « And made my pillow hard at night, and mols* toned It with tears. I've seen a light within your eye,upon jour checks a glow. That told me you are on the road that leads to shame and woo; Oh! John, don’t turn away your head, and on . my counsel frown. Stay more upon tho dear old farm; there’s dan* gor In the town. Remember what the poet says—long years hare proved It true— That “Satan llndssomo mischief for Idle hands . to do;’ 1 4 II you llvo on In Idleness, with those who lovo tho bowl, You’ll dig yourself a drunkard’s gravo. and wreck your deathless soul. ■ Your father, John, Is growing old; his days are nearly through; O J ho has labored yery hard to save the farm • for