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<you;
Bunt will go to ruin soon, and poverty will
frown.
If you keep hitching Dobbin up to drive Into
the town.
Your prospects for tho future are very bright.
. my son—
Not many have your start in life when they are
twenty-ono;
Your star, that shines so brightly now. In dark"
ness will decline,
If you forget your mother’s word and tarry at
the wine.
Turn back, my boy, now, In your youth; stay
by the dear old farm;
Tho Lord of Hosts will save, with His powerful
right arm.
Not long will mother pilot you 'o’er life’s tem
pestuous wavo^-
Thou light her pathway with your lovo down to
tho silent grave.
WINTEE PEAES.
A young cultivator wishes to, know
what varieties of winter pears will give
a supply from the present time or about
the first of winter, for two or three
months—such sorts as jiave been suffi
ciently tried to be of established char
acter. He has a good supply of autumn
pears, but has overlooked those for
winter, In-answer to this inquiry, we
may state that we are now enoying the
Anjou, which is unquestionably the
best of this season, the Winter Nelis
arid the Lawrence. These will proba-
bly furnish a good supply till about the
first of the year—sometimes the Law
rence lasts nearly into February. Very
much depends on the manner in which
these fruits are kept, and the fitness of
the apartments for storing them. Keep
the specimens in as cool a place as pos
sible after they are gathered, and be
fore they are placed in the cellar. A
cool out-house, or a suitable apartment
in a carriage house, fronting the north,
answers a good purpose. A fruit room,
built above ground on purpose, is best
where there are large quantities to be
stored ; pr in the absence of this build
ing an apartment may be divided off by
double boarding in some other building
and covering the boxes in which the
fruit is packed with chaff or fine straw.
This protection will often be sufficient
until the time has far advanced into
December; and there will be no dan
ger till intensely cold weather sets in,
and it will be some days before, the
frost can pass the barrier of double par-
titions and the thick stratum of chaff.
After they go to thb cellar, keep the
apartment well ventilated and regulat
ed to a low temperature above freezing
by a thermometer.
We have mentioned the Anjou as tho
best early winter pear., If kept in a
warm apartment, it will ripen in au
tumn, even as early as the first of
October; but by keeping cool accord
ing to tho mode. Just mentioned, they
may be bad even as late as the first of
the year. There will be some variation
in the different seasons. We have
known the Winter Nelis to ripen fully
in November, when the autumn bad
been warm, but the period was retard
ed some weeks by keeping the pears in
a cool place.
After the Anjou, Winter Nells and
Lawrence, the Josephine de kfalines is
ftio beat, ripening in January, and
keeping until February. Doyenne d’-
Alencon ripens about the same time?
but is not quite so good in quality. It
Is however, a hardy tree and good
bearer, and is on the whole a desirable
sort. The Easter Beurre, when 'll
matures well, will keep into April, and
ripen into a delicious fruit, but on'the
whole it is rather an uncertain sort.—
Josephine do Halines Is poor in some
places, but is mostly delicions and
excellent. It grows well on-quince.
We should not omit the name of iho
Vicar of Winkfleld as an early or mid
winter pear of value. It Is a free
grower and a prodigious bearer—the
fruit large and fair. It is occasionally
when well grown and ripened, of good
quality for the table, being pleasant
and agreeablo, although not ‘rich; but
its chief value Is for baking and stew
ing. The principal reason why the
fruit is so often poor is that it is allow
ed to overbear, —Country Gentleman.
Polish fob Patent Leather.—
The following is given by the London
Chemist and Druggist:
Whites of two eggs,
One tnblespoonfhl of spirits.of wine
Two largo lumps ofaugar,
Finely powered ivory-black,
ns much os may beaufhclenttoprodaco
the necessnry blackness, and consist
ence, To be laid on with a soft sponge
lightly, and afterwards gently rubbed
with a soft doth.
fotlcea, * 25
Ingßlx line*,.7 W
taper line un-
lar N(
:ceodl
a cent
Joor.
Mot
llcca,' lOoen*
lU extra.
semenl