- 1 11. , • • . SAMUEL WEIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. VOLUME XXVIII, NUMBER 50.1 ,4 1 UR LISRED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING 'Office in Northern Central Railroad Cem, Wny's Building, north-west corner Front and alnut streets. Terms of Subscription *Due Copy per anaum t if paid in advance, it it at not paid within three months from commencement orthe year, 200 4 Cies=LtlSt Lb QC:Orin. N• subscription received fora less time than six months; and no paper wilt be discontinued until all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the pub lisher. fp`DAloney may be remitted by mail at the publish er's risk. Rates of Advertising. square [0 lines] one week, three weeks, each subsequentinsertion, 10 [l2lines] one week, 50 three weeks, 1 u 0 each subsequent insertion, 25 Larger advertisements in proportion. A liberal discount will be made to quarterly,hali ye arl y . or yearlyadvertisers,who are strietlyeonfined to their business. DR- J. Z. HOFFER, DNTIST.--OFFICE, Corner of Front and Locust streets, Columbia, over Bletz's Grocery. fp — ENTRANCE ON LOCUST. May 22, 1e59-1y DR. S. ARMOR, HONCEOPATHIG PHYSICIAN, COLUMBIA, PA. Oroca. Axn Rwinrxce—Second Street, one door from NVllillUt. March 13,1858. THOMAS WELSH, JUSTICE 01? THE PEACE, Columbia, Pa. OFFICE:, in IVl,ipper's New Budding, below Black's Hotel, Front street. °Dr Prompt attenuon given to all business entrusted to his core. November 29,1657. DR. G. W. MIFFLIN, DENTIST, Locust street, a few doors above the Odd Fellow* , Hall, Columbia, Pa. Columbia. May 3. 1356. H. M. NORTH, TTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW. Columbia,Pa. Collections, I.romptly made, in Lancaster and York Counties. Columbia, May 4,1950. J. W. FISHER, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, 4cca,-gatarcimotim, Co!menu, SeMember G, 16.51 . 1. if GEORGE J. SMITH, WHOLESALE and Retail Bread and Cake Baker.—Constantly on hand a varlets - of Cakes, too numerous to mention, Crackers; Soda, Wine, Scroll, and Sugar Biscuit; Confectionery, of every description, ice., &c. LOCUST 'STREET, Feb. 2,'56. Between the Bank and Franklin House. Cold Cream of Glycerine, FOR the Cure and Prevention or Clutp ped Hoods. For sale by Dr. B. 1.1 HEHR. Col.. Nov. 7,1557. Goblen prior Drug glom CAKPETINGS, OIL CLOTHS, AND LOOKING GLASSES alwayx on hand, at low prices, at TIM PEOPLE'S STORE, Adjoining the Bunk. March 13, 1959 COSTAR'S Bed Bug Exterminator! Never kaown to fail. For sale at McCORKLE•& ',ELLETT'S Family Medicine store, Odd Fellow's Hall. April 2,1.1869. COSTAR'S Rat Extetminator. An infalli ble destroyer of Rats. Mice and Cockroaches. For sale at McCORICLE h DRI.LETTost Family Medicine Store, Odd Fellow's Hall. April 24,1355. ViTISTAR'S BALSAM OF WILD CHERRY, for Caught., Cold., he . for , ale at McCORKLF. k DI I.IATT'S Family lidedieme afore, Odd Fellows , Hall. Columbia, Cet RI. 1i57. WOOLLEY'S All Healing and Strengthen ing Salve, for Rule ut IkIeCORKLE & DEI.LETT'S Family Medicine Store, Odd follows' h all. entomb's,. 0ct.31. CORN Starch, Farina, Rico Flour, Tapioca, Sago, Oat Meal, Arrow Root. &c..at the FAMILY MEDICINE ATOIIE, Odd Fellows , Hull. Sept 25, '57 JIM received, three dozen Dr. Dennon's Vegetable Diners, a certain cure for Dyspepsia; also, a fresh lot of Sap Sago and Yore Apple Cheese, Farina and Corn Starch, at D. IthIRICS Sept 5, 1857. Grocery and Liquor Store. QOLDTION OF CITRATE OF MAONESIA,or Par gative Mineral Water.—This pleasant medicine which is highly recommended as a substitute for Epsom Salts, Seidlitz Powders, &c., eon be obtained fresh every day at La. E. B. HERR'S Drug Store, Front at. [r.l LAMPS, LAMPS, LAMPS. Just received at Ilerr's Drug Store, a new and beautiful lot of Lamps of all descriptions. May 2,1857. ASUPERIOR article of burning Fluid just received and for sale by If. SUY DAM & SON. ALARGE lot of City cured Dried Beef, just received nt u. BUYD/ad & son's. Columbia, December 20,1856. HOOFIAND'S German Bitters. For sale at cCORKLE & DELLETT , B Family Medicine Store, Odd Fellows , Hall. July O. 113.57. COUNTRY Produce constantly on band and for salt by H. SUYDAM & SON. HOMINY, Cranberries, Raisins, Figs, Alm- Duds, Walnuts, Cream Nuts, &e., just received It. IVTDAM dr. sou's. Columbia', Dec. 20, 1850 ASUPERIOR lot of Black and Green Teas, Coffee and Chocolare,iiiet received at H. 40VDAN &SON .Dec. 20,1856. Corner of Front and Union sts. _TDST RECEIVED, a beautiful aesortment of ei Glass Ink Staudt, at the Headquartera and News Depot. Cotuentna, April 18,1857. VIM Family and Superfine Flour of the -ILI best brand, for sale by H. SUYDAM 41; SON. JUST received 1000 lbs. cxtra double bolted Buckwheat Meal, at Dee.tV, Ma. 11. SUYDAM tc. SON'S. WEIEBIA'S Instantaneous Yeast or Baking Powder, for sale by 11. SUYDAhI da SON. GMIN6 Imported Harlem Oil, for sale at Dr. E. B. HERD'S Go lden Mortar Drug More, Front rtreet,Columbaa, Pa. [Feb. 6, 1656. TABLE. AND FLOOR OIL CLOTIIB, all widths, and Carretings, for sale cheap, by Oct. 10,1837. 1. O. BRUNER dr. CO. HAIL'S AND CAPS, suitable for the season, and at low prices, at the Corner of Third and Union sts. Oct. 10,1857. T . OOKING GLASSES, all ekes. by 7. 0. BRUNER tr.. Corner of Third and Union our Oct.lo, 1857 -- HEAP White, Red and Yellow Wool Flannelsaal C Wool Yarn, of all colors and qualities, at October 10 , 1 657. BRUNER'S. SALT by the sack or bushel, and Mackerel by the barrel or retail, at 1.0. BRUNER & CO.IS October 10, IW. TIMMS SEGAILS AND TOBACCO, of different brands, wholesale and retail, ti y October la, 1.557. I. 0. BRUNER & CO. TABLE and Rock Salt, by the sack or busbel,for sale low.by Oct. 10, 1957. LARGE assortalen t of Ropesall stun and lengths, on band and for sale at T iHOS. WELSH'S, • NO. By day, at a high oak desk I stand, And trace in a ledger line by line; But at five o'clock you dial's hand Opens the cage wherein I pine; And as faintly the stroke from the belfry peals Down through the thunder of hoofs and wheels, I wonder if ever a monarch feels Such royal joy as mine. 8130 Beatrice is dressed and her carriage waits; I know she has heard that signal-chime; And my strong heart leaps and palpitates, As lightly the winding stair I climb To her fragrant room, where the winter's gloom Is changed by the heliotrope's perfume, And the curtained sunset's crimson gloom, To love's own summer prime. She meets me there so strangely fair, That my soul aches with a happy pain!— A pressure, a touch of her pure lips, suck As u seraph might give and take again; A hurried whisper, "Adieu! adieu! They wait for me while I stay for you!" And a parting smile of her blue eyes through The glimmering carriage-pane. Then thoughts of the past come crowding fast On a blissful track of love and sighs— Oh, well I toiled, and those poor hands soiled, That liar song might bloom in Italian skies!— The pains and fears of those lonely years; The nights of longing and hope end tears,— Her heart's sweet debt, and the long arrears Of love in those faithful eyes' O night! be friendly to her and me!— To box and pit and gallery swarm The expectant throngs;—l am there to see;— And now she is bending her radiant form, To the clapping crowd;-1 . ant thrilled and proud; 111 v dun eyes look through a misty cloud, And ray joy mounts up on the plaudits loud, Like a sea-bird on a storm! She has waved her hand; the noisy rush , Of. applause sinks down; and silverly Her voice glides forth on the quivering hush, Like the white-robed moon an a tremulous seat And wherever her shining influenee culls I swing on the billow that swells and falls,— I know no more,—till the very walls Seem shouting with jubilee! Oh, little she cares for The fop who airs Flis glove and glass, or we gay array Of fans and perfumes,of jewels and plumes, Where wealth and pleasure have met to pay Their sightly hostage to her sweet song; But over the bravos clear and strong, Over all the flaunting and fluttering throng, She unites my soul away. Why am [ happy? Why am I proud? Oh can it be true she is all my own?— I make my way through the ignoront crowd, I know, I know where my love bath nOWII. Again we sleet; I am at her feet, And with kindling kisses and promises sweat, Her glowing, victorious lips repeat That they sing for me [Atlantic Monthly We had been a furtnigbton board the mail packet on our way home from the west coast of Africa, and had exhausted nearly every amusement it provided under those circum stances and within those limits. We had on board the usual complement of strange look ing captains and traders from the river Bonny, and, after passing Accra, had watched the canoes come off through the surf at Cape Coast Castle, and landed and walked up to the governor's house at Sterra Leone. We had played at whist and the game of the race at all unoccupied times, and bad dis played our various vocal powers and musical acquirements—which, I must confess, were not of a nature to have enlivened any circle —and as we were homeward bound, we had no newspapers and very few books. The passengers consisted mainly of officers going home on sick leave, one of whom— whose father bold a civil appointment of im- Tortance on the Gold Coast—was accompan ied by his sister. Then there were five or six bronzed captains, and copper-colored merchants of gold dust and ivory, so that altogether our number amounted to fourteen. We were by no means a lively company, and as I have said before, at the expiration of a fortnight we seemed to have exhausted all our amusements, and consequently to have annihilated every possible subject of mutual interest. Under these circumstances wo had, for two of three evenings running, sat on the guar ter-deck beneath an awning, looking listlessly front one to the other, watching young Wil son, of the Gold Coast Corps, who was going home on sick leave; envying him his power of unlimited sleep; or lazily following with our eyes the one-armed captain who paced the deck in any uneasy, restless manner from morning to night. He had not been home for fourteen years, and had now left his ship, a stationary merchant vessel, up the river Bonny, "to have a look at the old country." A more uncomfortable, unsatisfactory companion it would be impossible to imagine; and young Wilson, who shared a double cab in with him, was loud in his complaints, and pathetic in his appeals for sympathy. "Sleep," said Wilson; "I can't sleep—that fellow won't let me sleep, and it's all e very well to talk, but you can't get any sleep worth having in the day-time. You know his berth is fixed just over mine, and no sooner have I turned in and fallen into a doze, than rat-tat-tat-tat goes that iron hook fan tened to the stump of his srm. "Thefirst night' thought he wanted some thing, so I called out, 'What's the matter, skipper?" but ho only growled at me in reply. And I declare that every hour of every night since then, or whenever he thinks I am asleep, rat-tat-tat•tat comes that hook on the frame of the berth just above my bead. I don't bear it meekly, I assure you, and I have Red more bad language to that man than I 7.0. BRUNER CO ~~~~~~~. La Cantatrice gsitttigito. From Household Mr* A Packet Ship's Company "NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE 19, 1858. ever used in my life. But, upon my honor, I believe he would rather hear inc swear at him than say nothing at all; for he'll often give a kind of a sighing after it, as though some one had lifted a heavy weight from his chest." 'You may depend upon ithehas got abad conscience," said our one lady. By the by, she was treated with as much deference as if she had been Queen of England; and she was a queen in her own small way, and not a bad queen either—Queen of Beauty— Wilson said, and one or two more who were inclined to be spooney. So of course when she suggested "cons cience" we all echoed the"depend upon it," and every one offered laughingly a possible explanation of the cause. And thus we fell into a talk about this same conscience and its torments, and began to tell stories illus trative of it. Most of them were, I must confess, neither very amusing nor very in structive; and pretty Miss Graham began to yawn, and herbrother, Captain Graham, had followed the example of young Wilson, and was fast asleep. Then, after two old sea-captains had spun a long yarn, there was a pause, which Miss Graham broke by exclaiming: "Oh, Mr. Barkum, you have been to all kinds of places, seen such strange things, do tell us a true story." The Mr. Barkum thus addressed—a jolly old trader—replied with a grin: "What shall I tell you, miss?" "I don't know. As we are on the sea, tell us a story of shipwreck—but not a melan choly one." "Never told one in my life, miss!" "But you have been shipwrecked, have you not?" "Oh, yes," said Mr. Barkum, "sure-lyyes, miss, surely. Why, I was shipwrecked here," with a broad wave of the arm which includ ed the whole Atlantic. "You don't say se, Mr. Barkum! Do tell us all about it. What did you do?" "Well," said that gentleman, "we was tossed here and we was tossed there for three days and three nights, and then we took to the boats. And after we took to the boats we was tossed hero and tossed there for three days and three nights more; and wery cold and wery wet we were. Then the victuals fell short; and for three days and three nights we had nothin' to eatand noth in' to drink, and wery hungry and wery thirsty we were." Here Mr. Barkum made a very long pans. Miss Graham said: "And was there no vessel to pick you up, Mr. Barkum? How did you manage?" "Well, miss, we burnt priming, and made a fire in the dripping pan that the black cook would not have believed. Then we cast lots, and the lot fell on the steward; and so then we stowed—" "Good Heaven, Mr. Barkum!" "Yes, miss, we did, indeed. We stewed his boots—Wellingtons. The tops was the tenderest. Then we cast lots again, and the lot fell on the black cook; so we stewed his pumps; but they were uneatable, though the soup kept us alive ten days. After that we cast lots again, and the lot fell on the captain, and we stowed his water-boots; but they was tremendous tough, surely." At this point Mr. Barkum was interrupted by a general shout of remonstrance. "Well," says he, "when a lady tells a man she wants a story of ashipwreck what's he to do? I told the very best I could."— And with another grin, Mr. Barkum, who seemed not so much to have told his story as to have had it jerked out of him, leant back and looked around him, apparently well sat isfied with the effect produced. "Humph!" was uttered in a hoarse growl behind him, at which we all started—for it came from no other than the "silent man"— an old sea-captain, who had been picked up nobody knew where or how, and bad not ut tered a syllable since ho hndbeen on board. Ho would stand all day long looking over the stern of the vessel, gloomy and intent— giving no answer to whomsoever addressed him. But now ho stooped over Miss Graham, and laying one rough band on her shoulder, while with the other he pointed out beyond the stern of the vessel: "She'll do it," he said, in a hoarse whis per—" She'll do it—she's bound to do it." And he walked rather unsteadily to his old position. "He's been at our grog-bottles; that's what's opened his lips. He never had any of his own, and you saw him coma up from the saloon; said Captain Graham. shaking himself out of a doze. But his sister was all astonishment.— "Who is she, and what is she bound to do? It can't be this ship, for ho pointed out to sea." "Never mind, miss," said Mr. Minchin— a lean, yellow-faced man, who looked like an American, though he called himself English. - "Perhaps he's got somebody after him; who knows?" and he winked mysteri ously, not so much at any one person as at the whole ship's crew. "Though, when I'm I after a man myself, I take good care ho shan't know much about it." "You after a man, Mr. Minchinl Why, what do you go after him for?" "Well, ma'am, for various reasons; some times for one thing, and sometimes for an other. Now, there was the captain of the Golden Fleece. I followed that man for four years, and I'll tell you how it happened. "The Golden Fleece was bound from Cal ifornia to Liverpool, and besides a very val uable cargo of furs and such. she had en board a quarter of a million in gold-dust and nuggets. Pretty pickings among that, I can tell you; and so thought the captain —Jones, his name was. Now, I dare say, Captain Jones didn't like the risks of a voyage home, so after he bad been at sea about ten days, he ran the Golden Fleece on a rock about a mile from the shore, and then he and the crew took to the boats.— Well, of course he wrote home to the own ers how the Golden Fleece was wrecked off the coast of California, and how he and the crew only just escaped with their lives.— And of course the owners didn't like it; nor the underwriters didn't like it; for they were left in for a quarter of million besides the worth of the vessel, and the fifty thou sand pounds sterling that the cargo was valued at; and that's no joke. So after a few months they sends for me. " lir.lllinchin,' says they, 'this is a very lame story.' "'lt is,' says I, 'very lame.' " 'Captain Jones don't conic home,' says they. "'No:' says I; 'nor I dont suppose he's very likely to come home.' "'Mr. Minchin, will you go and see after the Golden Fleece?' "'I will!' says I. "'And will you,' says they, 'learn some thing about Captain Jones? Never mind the time, and never mind the expenses; but don't come back to England without Cap tain Jones.' "'lf Captain Tones is to bo found,' says I"I'll find him, dead or alive.' "Well, ma'am, of course this was not the first time, by many, that I'd been sent on some such errand; and, for one couse or an other, I've been sent out from Lloyd's to places all over the world, almost, where ves sels have been wrecked. "But, not to weary you, ma'am and the company, with an account of the voyage and adventures—and, indeed, we had none of the latter, except that in crossing the Isthmus of Panama, which was not so quiet then as it is now, wewiped out a small party of Indians—" "Wiped them out, Mr. Minchin?" "Well, Miss, if we hadn't wiped them out, they'd have wiped us out; I'll tell you the whole story some day. But to go back to the Golden Fleece. I went along the coast—and I found her. There she was, just in as good condition as on the day when the crew deserted her. I went on board at low water, and found that Captain Jones bad run her on a sharp-pointed rock, which fitted into her just like a wedge; the water couldn't get in, and she conldn't get off, or be got off, without considerable trouble. I went over her, and found the cargo all right enough; nothing touched there, and very little damaged. But all the gold was gone, ma'am, which I had expect ed from the first. Well, I first of all got out the cargo, and sent that home, and then did the best I could about the ship. "After that, thinks I to myself, 'Now, Captain Jones, it's your turn; and a pretty stiff turn it'll be for you, or my name ain't Minehin.' I wasn't in no manner of hurry, you must remember, for I knew he couldn't spend the money, and I knew be darn't in vest it,tor make much stir about it in any way. So my object was to find him, and to find him quietly, and make him give it up. "Well, you'll maybe hardly believe it, but it was three years before I could come upon that man's track. I did come upon it at last, though, and I was pretty sure I bad found him in a Mr. Weeks, settled in Canada. Naturally, business took me to the place where Mr. Weeks lived, and I soon picked up acquaintance with him. "He was Captain Jones. I found out that; and before long I was more sure than ever that he had neither spent the money nor invested it, but where he'd got it I couldn't tell. "After a time Mr. Weeks and I got to be very great friends, and at the end of six months Mr. Weeks began to talk of how h should like to go into business—something in the commercial line—as he bad a small capital to invest. 'Very small!' thinks Ito myself. 'Only a quarter of a million!' However, I said that was just what I was looking out for, too; and so, to make a long story short, we agreed to enter into partner ship, and by my advice we were to go first to Liverpool, and make arrangements with different merchants there. "I must confess that voyage home did soem rather a long one; but it was over nt last, and Mr. Weeks and I were walking along the streets of Liverpool. So I put one hand to my belt, where I bad pistols— and he know it, and carried pistols himself —and the other I laid on his shoulder.— 'Now, Captain Jones, of the Golden Fleece, says I, 'l've been after you this four years, and I've got you safe home at last.' Ma'am, if you'll believe it, that man never said a word, but just fixed his eyes on me and staggered against the wall. Now, I didn't want to give him into custody if I could help it; for I knew that those who employed me would a good deal rather let him go free, and they have their gold, than see him transported, and carry with him the secret of where it was hidden. "So I told him that he might let me know nest morning -whether I should hand him over to a police-constable, or - whether he'd tell inn where he'd got the gold. "lie never spoke a word. So I led him to an inn, and locked myself in a room with I.;m "Were you not afraid he'd shoot you, Mr. 31hichin?" "No, I wasn't afraid he'd shoot me, but I was terribly afraid he'd shoot himself.— However, I kept a sharp eye on him; and as ho saw he'd no chance of getting off anyhow, he just made a clean breast of it. So the end of it was, that we got back nearly the whole of the gold-dust, which he had buried soon after landing from the wreck. I knew all along that he hadn't got it with him. And they that employed me made me a present of a thousand pounds over and above whathad been agreed on for that job." "Well," said young Wilson, who looked wide awake, "you're a queer fish! , May I ask if you're after anybody now?" "Maybe I am, and maybe lam not. But I suppose you don't think I am after your" "Why, no. lam pretty sure of that, anyhow. But I wish you were after that one-armed fellow." "Keep your mind easy, Mr. Wilson.— He'll put his own head in the halter, if there's one made for him; and I do know that there's friends a waiting for him in England who'll be very glad to see him home again." "There, now, I knew there was some thing. Now, Minehin, do tell us what it is, there's a good fellow." "Not I, Mr. Wilson. No, ma'am, nor I don't tell you, neither; nor we don't have no secret about the matter." And Mr. Minchin kept his word. So, who the one-armed captain was, or what he had done, we could not find out until we reached Plymouth. Every one avoided him instinctively, our own captain setting the example; and all the latter part of the voyage young Wilson slept on deck rather than share the same cabin with him. But it was only when, in answer to our signals, two police-officers came off to our vessel in the river and arrested this man, that we heard the story of the slow, cruel torture, the barbarous murder committed by him on board his ship in the river Bonny, twelve years before. The "Silent Man," after ho had once spoken, was no longer inaccessible. We used to join him in his watch at the stern of the vessel, and say: "Well, sir, will elle do it?" His invariable answer, pointing backward over the sea, was: "She'll do it; sheas bound to do it, and she'll do it." As we entered Plymouth Harbor be once more sought Miss Graham, put his band on her shoulder, and, pointing in the invariable direction, said: "She's done it. She was bound to do it, and she's done it." I have no clear idea to this day who "she" was, or what she was bound to do, or what would have happened to her, or to you, or to me, if she had not done it. My Gold Watch HT JOHN HAWLIN, POLICEMAN. I nevere got sold, professionally, but once, and that was by Bill Safton, the forger, pick pocket, member of the London swell mob, etc., etc. Ile was an adroit rogue, and at the period of the transaction I am about to narrate, I had more confidence in human nature than I have been able to retain in a long experience with knaves and rascals since that time. The signature of a prominent mercantile firm had been affixed to a check for fourteen hundred and fifty dollars and odd cents; the latter item probably annexed to make it look a regular business transaction. The forgery was fortunately discovered a few hours after the bank had paid the chock, the teller having an after-suspicion that all was not right. The check was placed in my hands by amember of the firm, to whose counting room I had been summoned. It was not a very good imitation, and I won dered that the teller bad not suspected the mischief before. But the chance of catch ing the rascal was excellent, for the paper had been forged at their desk, and before their own eyes. "He was the most impudent scoundrel I ever met," said Mr, Lowe. You see the desk there? It was 'a large double standing-desk.— Upon the inner side was a writing table at which Mr. Lowe usually sat. "lie presented me a letter of introduction from our London correspondent," continued Mr. Lowe, "I gave him a cordial greeting, and ho sat down by my side, andwe chatted familiarly for a half an hour. ire then asked mo several questions concerning var ious locations in the city, and seemed very particular in regard to the name of a firm with whom he declared ho had business.— Re rose from his chair and went to the desk on the other side, and wrote down the direc tions I gave him, as !supposed. Ourcheck book was open upon the desk, and instead of writing the directions, ho must have fill ed out the check. The signature of the firm was attached to several papers near him, so that he bad a copytownte from. Still talk ing to me he tore off what I now believe was the check, and put it into his pocket." "how do you know he did this?" "Because I missed a check, and this just fits where the lost one was torn out. The number is all right." "Will you let me see the check-book•?, Mr. Lowe complied, and I carefully scruti rhea the rare• On one of the checks I $1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE;I2,OO IF NOT IN ADVANCE. have been made by the sharp corner of a ring, worn upon the little finger. The mark extended across the page, and having by trial assured myself that it was made by the person who had written the forged check, I took my leave, after entering in my mem orandum book a particular description of the rogue. I satisfied myself as to what manner he must have held his pen to make so strong an impression with the ring. The Land must have been turned over to the right, and the scratchy appearance of the writing confirm ed my view. It was now 4 o'clock in the afternoon.— Knowing he must be a magnificent rascal, I went directly to the Tremont House and ex amined the register. To .ny satisfaction, I found that sharp scratch-mark of the ring upon the book. Taking the pen, I measured the distance, in order to determine which name had been written by him, and fixed upon that of "G. Donaldson." I inquired for the gentleman, and learn ed that he was just starting for New York. He was very much engaged, and the clerk had orders to deny him to his friends. But such a friend as I was could not be denied. I went up to Isis room and knocked. Ile came to the door himself, and Iwas satisfied that he was the forger. "You are my prisoner," I remarked, tak inff the bracelets out of my pocket. "Eh?" said he coolly, as lie stepped out of the room, and closed the door behind him. I again stated my business, and he laughed in my face. I told him it was no use (and, by the way, there is a sterotyped phrase for such occasions.) "Of course, havn't the pleasure of knowing your name, sir." "Rawlin." "Of course, Mr. Rawlin, I will go with you. But this is a serious charge, and my character is worth more to me than the mer chant's money is to him. I will go with you, but excuse me while I tell my sister that business will detain me another day in the city." "No you don't said I, grasping him by the collar." "'Pon my soul, you're uncommon suspi cious. Yuu can see what a shock it would be to my sister to hear of my arrest." "I will enter with you?" "And frighten the poor girl out of her senses? I can explain it to her so that she will not suspect the cause of my detention. Poor thing, she is very nervous. The shock would kill her. Of course I shall return in a little time, when you are satisfied of your mistake." I refused to lose sight of him for an in stant, but he appealed so earnestly to my feelings to spare his sister, whose movements I could hear in the room, that I began to waver. "You have made a mistake. Here, take my watch; it is a. very valuable ono, given me by a dear friend, and I would not part with it for all the world. Take it, as security for my return." I took the watch and thrust it into my pocket, for the passage was too dark for me to examine it. I was satisfied ho could not escape me, and I permitted him to return to bis room. Re closed the door after him. I placed my ear to the key-hole, to Make assurance doubly sure. I heard him speak in a low tone, but the lady spoke loudly and in shrill tones. The conversation continued for several minutes, but the sister seemed to do the whole of it. Ten minutes elapsed, as should judge, and I couldstill hear the voice of the lady, but I did not hear that of Mr. Donaldson. I was alarmed and listened closely. Again there were two voices, and I was satisfied; but the rogue stopped so long that I ventured to knock, even at the expense of the sister's nerves. "Where is Mr. Donaldson?" I asked, as elle came to the door." "In the chamber," replied she, pointing to the door which communicated with the sleeping room of th o suit. "Who are you?" I made no reply, but rushed into the cham ber. The bird had flown. The open win dow revealed the manner of his escape. I was chagrined beyond measure. Without waiting to apologize to the lady, (in all pro bability she was not his sister,) I ran to the ProVidence depot, conjecturing, if he intend ed to go to Now' York, this mould be the nearest starting place. On n.y may, wishing to know whether I had time to reach the depot before the de-, parture of the cars, I felt for my watch.— Judge of my consternation when I discover ed that it was gone. It was a very valua ble one, and lest some one should wonder that a policeman should carry suck a watch, I may add that I took it for a debt a short time before. Then the watch the rascal had given me occurred to my mind, and I pulled it out.— It was my own watch! The rogue had pick ed my pocket, while we were debating in the dark passage, and had given it to me as security for his appearance. I was delighted to find it again, but when I reached the station the cars had gone. I obtained such information, however, as sat isfied me that he had gone in the train. I now turned my attention to the "sister."— She left for New York the next day, and I followed her, keeping out of sight, of course. She proceeded to the Howard Hotel, where, after watching and following her for three claim. I v: 4O - the aid of the New [WHOLE NUMBER, 1,455. "Thank you for my watch!" said he, as I put the bracelets on. He was a fellow of infinite good 'humor, and when, with the Governor's requisition in my pocket, we took the cars together, I found him a very agreeable traveling com panion, through I dared not for an instant take my eye from him. lle was Bill Safton, well known to the New - York police, and the lady was a female friend who assisted hint in his occupation. Ile spent some years in our State Prison, and the last I heard of him he was at Sing-Sing. The Beaurepaire Oak But first, ere the sun is set, stay a few minutes and look at the Beaurepaire oak, while r tell you the little men knew about it, not the thousandth part of what it could have told, if trees could speak as well as breathe. The Baroness did not exaggerate. The tree was somewhat older than even this ancient family. There was a chain of family documents, several of which related inci dents in which this tree played a part. The oldest of these manuscripts was writ ten by a monk, a younger son of the houso about five hundred years before our story. This would not have helped us much; but, luckily, the good monk was at the pains to collect all the oral traditions about it that had come down from a far more remote antiquity, and, like a sensible man, arrested and solidified them by the pen. lie had a superstitious reverence for the tree; and probably this, too, came down to him from his ancestors, as it VMS certainly transmitted by him to the chroniclers that succeeded him. The sum of all is this. The first Baron of Beaurepaire had pitch ed his tent under a fair oak that stoodprope rivunt—near a brook. He afterwards built a square towerhard by, and dugs moat that inclosed:both tree and tower. and received the waters of the brook aforesaid. These particulars corresponded too exactly with the present face of things and the intermedi ate accounts, to leave a doubt that this was the same tree. In these earlier days, its size seems to have been nothing remarkable, and this proves it was still growing timber. But a century and a half before the monk wrote, it had become famous in all the district for its girth; and in the monk's own day had ceased to grow, but showed nit sign of de cay. The mutilated arm I have mentioned was once a long, sturdy bough, worn smooth as velvet in one part from a curious cause; it ran about as high above the ground as a full-sized horse, and theknightsand squires used to be forever vaulting upon it, the for mer in armor; the monk when a boy, had seen them do it a thousand times. The heart of the tree began to go, and then this heavybough creaked suspiciously. In those days, they did not prop a sacred bough with a line of iron posts, as now. They solved the difficulty by cutting this one off within six feet. of the trunk; two centuries later, the tree being now nearly hollow, a rude iron bracket was roughly nailed into the stem, and, running out three feet, supported the knight'sbougb, for so the mutilated limb was still called, What had not this tree seen since first it came green and tender as the cabbage, above the sod, and stood at the mercy of the first hare or rabbit that should choose to cut short its frail existence! Since then eagles had perched on its crown, nod wild boars fed, without fear of man, upon its acorns. Troubadours bad Bungbe neath it to lords and ladies seated around or walking on the grass, and commending the minstrel's tales of love by exchange of amorous glances. It had seen a Norman Duke conquer En gland, and English Kings invade France, and be crowned at Paris. It had seen a woman put knights to the rout, and seen God insulted and the warrior virgin burned by envious Tricots, with the consent of the curs she had defended and the curs she had defeated. Medi:era! sculptors had taken its leaves, and, wisely trusting to nature, had adorned many a church with those leaves cut in stone. Why, in its old age it had seen the rise of printing, and the first dawn of national civ ilization iu Europe. It flourished and de cayed in France, but it grew in Gaul. And more remarkable still, though by all accounts it is likely to see the world to an end, it was a tree in ancient history; its old, age awaits the millennium; its first youth belonged to that great tract of time which includes the birth of Christ, the building of Rome, and the siege of Troy. The tree had mingled in the fortunes of the family. It had saved their lives and taken their lives. One Lord of Bcaurepaire, hotly pursued by his feudal enemies, made for the tree, and hid himself, partly by a great bough, partly by a thick screen of leaves. The foe darted in, made surehohad taken to the house, ransacked it, and gotin to the cellar, whore, brgood luck,was store of Malroisie; and so the oak and the vine saved the quaking Baron. Another Lord of Beaurepaire, besieged in his castle, was shot dead on the ramparts by a cross-bowman who had secreted him self unobserved in this tree a littlebefore the I dawn, A young heir of Beaurepaire, climbing for a raven's nest to the top of this tree, whose crown was much loftier than now, lost his ranting land fe/1, and died at
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