The Lebanon advertiser. (Lebanon, Pa.) 1849-1901, June 21, 1865, Image 1
tebalunt Pilettiott ES T E A IVZ JOB PRINTING OFFICE. PRINTING: OF M . W1231:33 E.mig3,23oe.Aue...9zrax)a - a. Neatly 1.17)(1 Proniplly Krecuted, at the ADVERTISER OFFICE, LEBANON, PENN'A Tuts establishment is now supplied with an extensive assortment of JOB TYPE, which will be increased as the patronage demands. lt can now turn out PRINTING, of every description, in a neat and expeditious manner— sud on very reasonable tem% Such as Pamphlets, Cheeks, Business Cards, Handbills, Circulars, Labelk, Bill Headings, Blanks, Programmes, Bills of Fare, Invitations, Tickets, dtc., &c. irjr DEEDS of allkinds, Common and Judgment Bonn& Achoot, Justices', Constables' audother BLANCO, printed correctly and neatly on the best paper, constantly kept for sale at this office, nt prices "to suit the times." rLette•ffisof .A.cilirortisCixs.g. 81.0. it. at. 3m. Gm. ly. 1 Fquare, 12 lines, $ .50 $l.OO $3.00 $5.00 $ 8.00 2 " 24 lines, 1.00 2.00 5.00 800 12.00 8 " 88 lines, 1.60 300 -7.00 10.00 15.00 For Executor's and Administrator's Notices, 2.00 For Anaignee. Auditor and eimilar Notices, 1.50 For yearly Cards, not exceeding 8 lines, 8.00 For column advertisement, 1 year, 50.00 For 5 column " gl 80.00 . _ '''qr kor Y 4, column ~ 61 18.00 Nor Announcing candidates for office, In advanco, 2.00 For Aleut:miming sale, unaccompanied by adv't. 1.00 For Local Notices, Society resointions, As., 8 etc • per line. For Bishops or Special Notices, 80 cents per line por year. Yearly ndrartisementa for blorehants and Bust noes men as agreed upon. o .* Subscription price of the LEBANON ADVERTISER Ono Dollar and a half a Year. Address. Wm. M. BRESLIN, Lebanon, Pa. DENTISTRY. O B.Wagner. IafIMO TNSERTS Artificial Teeth on Gold, Sitter, Vulcanite, 1 at from ssto $4O. Teeth tilled at 75 cents and up wards. Residence and Office, Cumberland street, East Lebanon, opposite Benson's lintel, where he has been practising the last eight years. Lebanon, April 5, 1865. Dr. S. H. GIJILFO,4.'D ) ._ WWZOT,e. (Orelbutte of the Penn's,. College of Dental Surgery.) ROOMS—In C. 'Henry's now building, ..2, 1 opposite the Engle Hotel, Cumberland street, Lebanon, Pa. Ined, E n ther daesired.nd chloro form admlnle °v.' tar *he Lebanon, June 14,1865.-0. JOllll P. Surgeon X) 4s 31. t i t 4,- -•- Kir ROOMS over Mr. Ad - am Rise's flat Store, ° berland St., Lebanon, P. Lebanon, Mnrch 29, 1 866 REMOVAL. S. T. 111cADAITI, ATTORNEY AT LAW. IIAS REMOVED hie ofliee to Market Street, one door South of the American House, better known as A[etthee' lintel. Lebanon, April 12,1505. JOSIAH FUNCK, t t 33.ecy - 41. ea, tFFICE, next door to the First Nntional Bank, (Into I Deposit Dank.) Cumberland street, Lebanon, Pn. March 29,1865. J. HOFFNA AN. (Late Capt. in the 142 d Pa. V 01.,) 3301.1.33.VY, 13 64 , c5im lams' AND Pension Agent. OFFICE WITH HON. J. W. KILLINGEB, LEBANON, PA. Lebanon, March 16, 1865 —tf. ARMY AND NAVY PENSION, BOUNTY, BACK PAY AND BOUN TY LAND AGENCY. BAteLla aaYtto.. .E t 11. co t - vv• m undersigned, having been licensed to prosecute 1 claims, and having been engaged in the Bounty and Pension business, offers his services to all those who e thereto entitled, in accordance with the various arts of Congress. All such should call or address at On", and make their applications through ItASSLIIR. 1101rEtt, Attorney at-Law, Omen removed to Cumberland St., one door East of the Lebanon Valley Bank, opposite the Buck hotel, Lebanon, Pa. Van. 6, '64. JOHN BENSON, ATTORNEY-AT -LAW. o F s F i l re C t, t w ne it a b oy A o . p ß po . si ß te nut e t, li lall aui ? e u . mberland Lebanon, February 8,1868. H. T. BIBIGHAUS 9 ATTORN EY-AT -LAW, tAFFICE in Stiebter's Building, Cumberland Street 1 nearly oponotie the Court House, Lebanon. Lebanon, June 15, 1884.—tf. CYRUS P. MILLER, Attorney-at-Law Offigkeln a lla d lut c e i tr d e o e o t ;a neatly o r tinsite rin tLe a rt n n y l s Hardware store. L Amnon, April 0, 1864.-Iy. 1114 S S LER - ii 0 ImER A.ttor2acy laKr OFICI removed to Cumberland street, one door East of the Lebanon Valley Bank. opposite the Duck Hotel, Lebanon, Pa. [Jon. G,'64. RANT' VW 111311D111AN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. SPICE. In Cnneoberland street, a few doors east of 1,1 tho Bogle Hotel, In the office late of his father Capt. John Weidman decd. Lebanon. Sept. El, ISM. HENRY J. LIGHT, arigausitic3o of th.© ..IPiffit"C34e. I tlillll 'subscriber, having been elected Justice of the I Pence, would respectfully inform the public that lie Is now prepared to attend to the duties of his office, as well no the writing of 'Peelle, Uoutts, Agreemente, and all businees pertaining to a Scrivener, at his resi dence In North Lebanon Township, about two miles from Lebanon, near the Tatuni, on the Union Forge !toad. HENRY J. LIMIT. N. Lebanon township, May 3. 1865.-3 m. REMOVAL. A. STANLEY IULRICII, ATTORNEY AT LAW, removed hts office to the building, one door ens of Londerwitch 'itStore, opposite theWashlngton House Lebanon, Pa. BOUNTY awl PENSION claims promptly attended to. [April 8,'&9.-3m. R. DEEG'S LIQUOR STORE, Market Square, appeal:kik Market douse, Lebanon, Pa. ?UHF. undersigned respectfully inform the public J_ that he has received an extensive stock of the choicest and purest Liquors of all descriptions. These .ggla, Liquors be is invariably disposed to sell at urk , ..A , 7precedentedly low prices. • Druggists, rarmers, Hotel Keepers, and oth ers will consult their own interests by buying of the undersigned. L. It. 'MEG. Also, for sale, 51181ILER'8 HERB nirrEits- Lebanon, April 11, 1883. COOPERING. r IRE subscriber respectfully informs the public 1. that he has commenced the COO MILING Iluel. nose at his residence on Plank Road (,:rr( lAk street, about a square south or the -- A L.:.___ _-_.' IF Stands, Barrels, Hogsheads, Casks, or anything in his line made er RE PAIRED at short notice and on rea sonable terms. Its solicits the patronage of the pub lin., feeling confident that Ills work will compare fav orably In workmanship and price with any other. JOSh'PII IT. OASSEILT. Lebanon, April 5, 1565. 'lilt NEW BAKERY , 'iUi% undersigned would respectfully Inform the cit. zens of Lebanon, that he has commenced the BAR- I:4B BUSINESS, in all its varieties, at his stand, in Cumberland street, Lehman, nearly opposite the Buck Lime', and will supply customers with the best BREAD, CAKES, &c., &c. Flour received from onatomers and returned to them In bread atshort notice. CONFECTIONERIES, of all kinds, fresh and of the best quality, constantly on hand, and furnished at the lowest prices, Th 4 public is invited UP give We a Irish , Lab non, May 4,186 k. P. EL EBPB, `cb anon VOL. 16--NO. 52. tt . ,4oirt Roftvq. UISIDE THE ALEHOUSE. co, don't go in to-night, John— Now, husband, don't go in ! To spend our only shilling, 'John, Would bo a cruel sin. There's not a loaf at home, John— There's not a coal, you know— Though with hunger I am fa ia t, John, And cold comes down the snow. Then don't go.in to-night ! Ah, John, you must remember— And, John, I can't forget, When never afoot of yours, John, Was in the alehouse set. Ah, those were happy times, John, No quarrels then we knew, And none were happier in our lane Than I, dear John, and yea. Then don't go in to-night. You will not go !—John, John, I mind, . When we were courting, few Had arm as strong, or stop as firm, Or cheek as.rod as you ; But drink has stolen your s trength John, And paled your cheek to white, Has tottering made your young, firm trend, And bowed your manly height. You'll not go in to-night? You'll not go in ? Think on the day That made me, John, your wife; What pleasant talk that day we had Of all our future life ! Of bow your steady earnings, John, No wasting should consume, But weekly some now comfort bring To deck our happy home ; Then don't go in to-night? To see us, John, no then we dressed, So tidy, clean, and neat, Brought out all eyes to follow us As we went dovra the street. Ah, little thought our neighbors then, And we as little thought That ever, John, to rage like these, By drink we should be brought ; You won't go in to night And will you go ? If not for me, Yot for your baby stay ; You know, John, not a taste of food Ilas passed my lips to-day.; And tell your father, little one, Tis mine your life hangs on ; You will not spend the shilling, John ? You'll give it him ? Come John, Come home with us to-night? Cfribtfttatttuto. A HAND AND A RING. About six onelock one autumn eve. ning two men pushed their way through the furze bushes which bor. dere(' aby road running from Quid hampton to Harnham. There was not much difference in their outward appearance, yet one was nothing but a woodman, and the other was Squire Winter, the owner of Stockton Park and most of the land near it. They had both been engaged, all day in" marking trees which were to be cut down to thin the young plantation; and Squire Winter still held in his hand the heavy knee-edged knife, al. most as heavy as a hatchet, which he had been using for this purpose.— The air had been getting more and more damp for several hours, and just before the time I have mentioned a light rain began to fall. As he had been walking all day and was still nearly a mile and a 'half from his house the squire told the woodman to go across to the Pheasant, an inn which was about four or five hundred yards distant, and tell the landlord to saddle his horse for him, and he would send a groom back with it the following morning. The squire him self crossed over to another 'planta tion, on the opposite side of the road, to see whether that too wanted trim ming. In a few minutes he came out and walked down to the inn, where he found the landlord waiting far him with the horse ready saddled,' and looking with its, drooping head and lank ears as if it were keenly alive to the miserable state of the weather. The squire looked at the animal, and said: "I think I might as well walk as ride that seedy looking ani mal, Jackson. HoWeyer, I suppose I can get something like a trot out of him for a shorn distance." Of course the landlord said he could, and Squire Winter mounted and rode off. We are very apt to say that a sec ond thought is the best, and certainly it would have been well for the squire if on this evening he had given up his idea of riding, as he was tempt ed to do when he saw the horse that was brought 'mit for him, because in that case ho-would have been accom panied almost to his house by the woodman, who occupied a lodge at one of the gates opening into the perk, and he would in all probability have escaped the catastrophe which betel him. The path be took was narrow, and for some distance ran through a haze copse. The landlord of the Pheasant watched him till he was bidden by the trees and under wood, and then went indoors. It was too early for him to have cus tomers in his house; indeed, it was not very likely that he would have any at all on such a night; and he sat down by the tap-room fire and lighted a pipe. He had not been Bit ting there many minutes when he heard the sound of a horse galloping up to his door- He got up and went out, expecting to find somebody there who required refreshment, but to his astonishment, and somewhat to his alarm, ho found his own horse stand ing there without a rider. He was disposed to believe, as he afterwards said, that the squire had got off on reaching his house, and loft the ani mal standing at the door for the groom to come and take it away, and that, finding itself free to go which way it pleased, it had turned round and started off for its own stable.— Still he thought it just possible that some accident had happened to the squire, especially when -he had passed his hand down the horse's forelegs, and found that one of the shoulders was bleeding from a gash in it, which might have been caused by a stake in the -hedge through which it had forced its way, though it seemed too clean for that. To make sure, he de termined to go to the house and in quire ; he was certain, if no evil had befallen the squire, that he would be invited to share a good supper with the servants, and would receive a more liberal remuneration for the hire of his horse. After washing the wound with cold water till the bleed ing had ceased, he led the animal in to the stable, and then put on his hat and walked down the same path which the squire had taken. The rain had left off, but the air was still so dark and heavy that, though the moon was up, tho light was not suffi cient to enable him to see far before him; and it was not until ho was within about a doz.en yards of it that he could see that a dark object which. lay before him was the body of a man. It lay with its cheek resting on the wet ground; and on stooping over it, he saw, what the dress and appearance had already told him, that it was the body of Squire Win ter. The squire was dead for the heart had ceased to beat, though the body was still warm beneath the clothes. The laborers' cottages were not far off, and to those he ran for help to carry the body to the house. One of the laborers he sent for the doctor, and with some others he returned to the spot where the body was lying, and putting it on a hurdle, they car ried it to the house, and laid it down iu the hall, to wait the doctor's ar. rival, who came in a few minutes af terwards, and having, unfastened the clothes discovered that death had been caused by a bullet which had entered the stomach, and taking an upward course, had lodged in some vital organ. Fortunately, the Squire had no wife to regret his loss, but he had one Sot who, the servants said had gone to Winchester to be present at a pig eon shooting match. A groom with out waiting for directions from any body, had ridden off before the doc tor had had time to ask any ques tions; and on inquiring at the bar racks, he was told that his master had left that place several hours since, and might have stopped at Stockton Park if he had n'ot called anywhere on his road. It was then so late that the groom determined on remaining in Winchester that night, not doubting, that as ho had not met his master on his way there thatgen• tleman bad Called at one Of the many country houses which stand between the two places, and would long since have reached home. Starting early the next morning, he might have been back at Stockton Park while the day was still young; but he felt so sure that he would find his master at home, that he took advantage of the state of confusion caused by the old squire's murder to spend some hours with other grooms with whom he was acquainted, so that it, was not until three or four o'clock in the at% ternoon that he made his appearance at Stockton Park. Up to this time, no uneasiness or surprise had been felt at the young squire's absence.— His habits were well known to the servants, and they took it for grant ed that the groom had been unable to find him on the preceding night, and that they would return together in the course of the morning. But now that the groom had returned with the news that their master had left Winchester early the day before, the doctor, who still remained in the house, and exercised authority-in di recting what was to he done, sent servants . and laborers to every place they could think of to search for him. The young squire, as ho was called, to distinguish him from his father, and not because he was really a young man—for he bad passed his fortieth year—was not liked by any. body. Neither be nor his father cared about the society of young men; the men of their own age who lived near them were generally married, and Stockton Park was one of those houses to which men do not like to take their wives. Occasionally, men came from the barracks at Winches ter or from Portsmouth for two or three days' shooting; but they sel dom came a second time. The game was plentiful, but the evenings are long in the autumn ; and the bicker ings between father and son, which not even strangers could check, made a visit to the Park so unpleasant, that visitors usually found a pretext fez. shortening their stay. The con duct of the younger Winter towards his father was so bad, that men who . Made no pretence of respecting any thing because it was good, agreed that he was a snob and a brute, and showed no inclination to cultivate his acquaintance. - The whole of that day passed, and nothing was heard of him; but next morning the man whose business it was to fetch the letters from the post office at Salisbury brought a let ter addressed to the deceased squire, which was at once seen to be in the handwriting of his son. Under these circumstances the doctor considered himselfjustified in opening it to see if it contained an address. The post mark.showed it came from London, and the contents gave no further in formation of the place from whence it was written. To judge from the language, there must have been a more than usually serious quarrel be tween the late squire and his son, for the letter referred to a blow received on the night preceeing his visit to Winchester, and went on to say that it was now impossible that they could LEBANON, PA.; WEDNESDAY, JUNE 21, 1865. live in the same house ; therefore his father was not to be surprised when he found that•his account had been drawn upon to the amount of three thousand pounds, whiCh he 'would soon recover by not haying to pay his (the writer's) alloiYance, for he was on the point ofStarting • for the Cape of Good Hope, Where he in tended to lac;(1, and make a. journey into the interior of Africa. No ad-. dress was given where a letter Would reach him; and letters which were subsequently addressed to him at the Cape were returned with the endorse ment that mrperson Of the name of Winter had ever'ealled at the post office for letters, bit that it was be lieved that a Mr. Winter had gone into the interior with a supply of guns and ammunition on a himting f expedition, w' , h had not returned, and of i>rt.,hing had sinee.'been heard. : . - All the efforts made to discover the murderer of Squire Winter were fruitless for several months. It was generally , supposed that it was the work of a poacher, a class of men for whom thelate squire nourished the deepest abhorrence. One Saturday evening a man named Ward was drinking at the Pheasant in company with several laborers. He was a big, burly fellow of a reckless character, and made no secret of his 'exploits in poaching; indeed, the tales he told of his suc cess in this way had induced many young fellows to follow his example, who would otherwise have, in all probability, led an honest life. On the particular evening referred to, be had drank more spirits' than usual, and had become quarrelsome. At last, provoked by another man equal 'ly disposed to quarrel, he drew the barrel of a gun out of a deep pocket in the inside of a velvateen coat he bad on, and proceeded to fit it into a l stock which be took from another I pocket; saying at the same time that he would serve his ! antagonist as he had served old Winter. Those pres ent got hold of him, and after a sharp struggle, took away his gun. But the expression he had so imprudent ly uttered was not forgotten ; the villagers talked of it, and at last it reached the ears of one of the justi ces, who made inquiries, and finding there was so many witnesses to prove the expression, issued a . warrant for his apprehension; and after an ex amination, at which some further ev idence was given tending to prove that he was really guilty of the crime he was charged with on his own con- fession, he , was. committed... Ai:, „fmko his trial at the 4Ssiiee; and heie be gins my connection with the case. The brief was in the first instance offered to a friend of mine who went the same circuit; but he being enga„al. ed in a heavy civil case, recommend ed me to undertake the defence of the criminal. It was accordingly given to me by Ward's attorney, who told me of the affair just as I have related it, with the addition, that though his client steadfastly denied his guilt, the ease was strongly against him, apart from his well-known character as a poacher, which had already caused his imprisonment on several occa sions, and would of course tell heavi ly against him with the jury, all of whom were aware of his reputation. The trial came on in due course. The evidence that he had made use of the expression that he would serve the man he was quarreling with at the Pheasant as he had served old Win ter, and that he had accompanied the expression by pulling out a gun, evi dently with the intention of shoot ing him, was proved by so many wit nesses, that no efforts of mine to' make the jury believe that what he really did say was "that he would serve him as old Winter had been served," were of any avail. Moreover, to sup port the statement imputed to him, evidence was given that he bad been seen lurking about the wood in which the murdered man was marking the trees on the same afternoon.— This, taken with his well-known an tecedents, made the case so strong against him that I should Not have been surpised if the jury had return ed a verdict of willful murder ; and I obtained some credit from the fact that they took a, more merciful view of the case, and only convicted him . of manslaughter. The judge, after tell ing the prisoner that he entirely con curred in the finding of the jury, and that if they had found him guilty of the capital charge, he would have been bound to sentence him to be hanged without holding out a hope of mercy, ordered him to be transported for life. I bad gone the circuit many times, and had bad many briefs from the same attorney from whom I had re ceived that for the defence of Ward, so that a kind of intimacy was es tablished between us ; and whenever he, visited London he came to my chambers, and not unfrequently, when his stay in town did not ex ceed a clay or two, he took up his quarters with me instead of going to a hotel. On one of these occasions he brought some papers relating to an action against Squire Winter for shooting a valuable dog which bad strayed from the road along which its owner was riding into one of the woods belonging to the former.— This was the first time I had heard his name mentioned since I had been engaged in defending the murderer of his father. I found that be bad not long returned from his African expedition ; during which lie had been so unfortunate as to lose his left hand froM the bursting of a gun. On ar riving at Salisbury I went to my friend tho attorney, who returned my hospitality by giving me aceom- Abu crtistr. modation in his house while the as sizes-lasted in that city. On one of these occasions I required the assist• ance of.oue of my friend's clerks in arranging the documents in a case of some intricacy, and it was necessary to search the parish record's for doc uments. On receiving a message from the clerk that he had found what was wanted ; I went to the ves try to .read them. To see if there were any others bearing on the same subject I continued the search, and among those I opened was a deed re ferring to an exchange of a piece of land belonging to the parrishioners, called the Croft, for another piece nearer the village, and further from Squire . Winter's 'estate. The deed was of old date,,and was emblazoned with a singular looking device, which the clerk no sooner saw than he ex claimed "Why, tbis.is the same crest that was on' the ring Ellen Jackson show ed---" He stopped himself, and I said : "The same crest that was on the ring Ellen Jackson showed you, is it r,' After a little hesitation, he answer ed : "Yes. The crest was a very Curi ous one, being four arms arranged in a semicircle, the hands grasping dag gers, which were pointed upwards." "Is the Ellen Jackson you referred to the daughter of the landlord of the Pheasant ? I seem to remember a young woman of that name who gave evidence on Ward's trial." • "Yes,.' was his answer. "And did Miss Jackson tell you where she got such an uncommon ring ?" "Yes-no. Well, the fact is, the ring was on a hand. She showed it to me one morning when I- called there in passing, when her father was out shooting. This Squire Winter is not such a man as his father was ; he lets Jackson shoot over his estate as much as he pleases." "The ring was on a hand ; I sup pose you mean on her hand." "No I don't. It was on a hand as dry and shrivelled as though it were a-hundred years old." 'And where did she get this hand from ? Is it left lying about' where her father's customers can see it ?" Re blushed for some reason, as he replied : "I don't think it is. She took it from a box in her father's bedroom, in which he keepS his pa pers and other things. I saw it when she was looking for a paper re lating to some property left by her .faint, about which she wanted to ask melt question, and asked her to Jet me look at it." At this moment I dronped upon another paper relative to the matter in hand, and all my attention was given to that, so that I asked no more questions at the time.— But in the course of the evening, when ray friend and I were smoking cigars, in the absence of any more in teresting subject to talk about, 1 said "Your clerk tells me that Jackson, the landlord of the Pheasant, has got a ring with the peculiar crest of the Winters on it. Where do you sup pose he got it from?" "Heaven knows ! or possibly, the present squire may have given it to him : I hear they are remarkable in timate." "But neither of those hypotheses accounts fbr it being on a hand sever ed from the body." "Severed from the body! That is singular, certainly. Why, Winter has lost one hand. Surely he would not have brought his hand all the way from Africa to make a publican a present of it." "Not very likely, I sbould say." After some further observations had been exchanged on the singulari ty of the circumstance, the conversa tion turned on matters in which we were more immediately interested. I had a hard day's work in court On Saturday, and feeling a Tittle fa tigued, instead of going to church th next morning, I went round by the cathedral to arnham, and from thence I wandered along a road which brought me to a public house. On loooking up at the sign board, I saw that it was 'the Pheasant. The day was a hot one, and the sign re minded me that there was a bridle road which led through the wood in which poor old Winter had been murdered. I was warm and getting tired; and thinking that a rest among the hazel-wood would be pleasant, I turned into the path, and at the first opening I came to (which happened to be quite close to a stone cross, so covered with a species of moss, that I had some difficulty in making out that the inscription on it stated that this was the spot where the squire's body had been found,) I turned out of it again and found myself in a small open space. Here I lay down, with my face turned toward the bright blue sky, and watched the cu rious forms which the light clouds assumed as they followed each other across the confined space which com prised my field of view. Presently 1 fancied that my back was getting cold, and that this might be caused by the dampness of the ground on which I was lying. I got up and pegged away with the heel of my boot to break through the grass to ascertain if the ground beneath was damp. I tried two or three places, and the last time it struck against the butt of a pistol causinf , the muzzle to turn upwards. I picked t it up, and wiped the dirt off with some grass. The barrel was very rusty; but there was a small plate of silver behind the hammer, which I soon rubbed clean enough to see that it was engraved; WHOLE NO. 834 and a little additional friction ena bled me to perceive that it was with the peculiar crest of the Winter's.— To a man of my profession, the vicin ity of the spot where Winter had been murdered naturally suggested that this pistol was the weapon by which the crime bad been perpetra ted. One idea followed another, un til r WaS led to connect together the murder, the hand and ring possessed by Jackson, the hand lost by the present owner of Stockton Park, and the intimacy between the two men, so unusual between persons of such different grades. I walked to the stone cross While these things Were passing through my mind, and lean ing on it, I pondered over each idea as it occured to me, linking one with the other, till I believed I had arriv ed at a . clear comprehension of the whole affair At first I thought I would consult my friend the •attorney before I did anything in the matter ; but on sec ond thoughts, I determined on strik ing a blow, while I was on the spot, and had some leisure. The door of the Pheasant was shut, as a sort of compliment to the day, I suppose, certainly not to keep out customers. I remembered the man directly I walked in and saw the landlord.— Ile was in the act of cleaning his gun, and without waiting to be question. ed, I said : "Are you aware, Mr. Jackson, of the penalty to which an accessory to a murder, either before or after the fact, is liable ?" Ho stared, and seemed quite stu pified by the question. I kept my eyes fixed steadfastly upon him, and at last he stammered out : "What do you ask me such a question for." "You don't remember me, perhaps. I defended poor Ward, who had such a narrow escape of being hanged, through your not telling the truth at the trial." I could see that he-was tempted to deny what I said, but the positive tone in which I spoke puzzled him so much, that after a brief attempt at consideration, be seemed to conclude that I had got my information from Winter, for he said : I suppose Squire Winter is a friend of yours and be has got you to come and try to frighten me off." I told him it was not so, and urg. ed him to make such a statement as would enable me to get Wars releas ed ;in which case I promised be should be dealt with as leniently as possible, otherwise I. would have him taken into custody at once as a party concerned. Intimidated by my threats, and not knowing how far I might be able to carry them into execution, but probably imagining tbe worst from what I said with re spect to the hand and ring in his possession, he at last consented to tell me all about it. "The evening the old squire was murdered, Stephen Quain, the wood man came across from the plantation yonder, and told me the squire wanted my horse to ride home. I got it ready as fast as I could, and brought him round. Two or .three minutes afterwards. the squire came up. Ike didn't much like the look of the beast, and_ said so ; but he was a very good horse for all that, only he didn't get as much rubbing as the squire's own horses did. However, he got on him; and rode off down the bridle-road through the hazel copse. I was sitting by the fire smok ing my pipe ; and I remember I was wondering whether be would catch sight of Ward 'who had been up here about an hour before, and went away seen after I told him that the squire was close by marking the trees.— Presentiy I heard a horse gallop up to the door, and went out to see if one of the grooms bad brought mine back.. I found it was my horse, but there was nobody on his back. I wondered what bad happened, and guessed that the squire had got off and gone in-doors, thinking the horse would stand there till a groom came to ride him up here, and that the horse had trotted off, and found his way home. I rubbed my hand down his legs to Bee if he bad run against anything; and whon I touched- his off-shoulder, ho started away ; and at the same time, I felt :that my band was wet, I looked at it, and it was just light enough to see that my band was bloody, and that the horse's !Shoulder had been cut. I took hold of the bridle to lead him into the sta ble, and found there was something dangling from the ring of the bit and check-strap ; and it gave me a turn vs - hen I saw it was a man's band, cut off clean at the wrist. I unfastened the fingers, and carried it with me in to the stable and put it in the corn bin, while I went to get a lantern.— As soon as I took it out again, and held it to the light, I know it was the young squire's by the ring that was on one of his fingers.. I was a good bit frightened ; but I thought it was best to say nothing about it then, so I hid the hand under the thatch, and went down to the house to see what had happened. As I was going through the hazelcopse, I saw some thing dark lying in the path. What we call the hunter's moon was pretty near the full ; but it was such a hazy night that 1 could but just make out the face ; and instead of being the young squire as I thought it must be, I found it was the squire himself."-,-- [lt is not necessary to repeat what I have already said of what ho did on making the discovery.] "I didn't tell anybody what I knew ; but if Ward had been sentenced to be hanged I should have done so. .When his trial came on, and be was only to be trans ported for life, I thought to myself that I was a very poor man, and bad got a . large ialdily to keep, and that A6ficEtim. A FAMILY PAPER FOR TOWN AND COUNTRY, IS PRINTED AND PUBLISHED WEEKLY By WEE. M. BRESLIN, 2d story of Fanoit's New Building, Cumberland $t At One Dollar and Fifty Cents a Year. Aar Anvirwrisanasyra inserted at the usual rates. lie itrITANDBILLS Printed at an hours notice. RATES OP POBTAGB. In Lebanon County, postage free In Pennsylvania, out of Lebanon county 6 cents per quarter, or 20 cents a year. Out of tbis State, 834 eta, per quarter, or 26 de. a year if the postage is not paid in advance, rates are double he would have been sure to be trans ported some time or other, for he wouldn't have minded shooting a keeper a bit ; so I determined to keep the hand with the ring on the finger just as it was ; and when the new squire came home, I would make him pay me to keep quiet. "It was the right band—for the squire is left-handed—and he always wore the ring on his.fore•fingor.— The next morning, as soon as it was light, I went doi,vn to the place where I found the body the night bo fore, and among the roots of one of the hazels 1 found the pistol you have got there. I looked round to see if anybody was near, but there was nobody to see me, so I went be hind the bushes, and dug out a turf, and buried the pistol underneatb,and then put the turf down over it, so that nobody could see that it had been touched' Here,, as if seized with a sudden impulse, he exclaim ed —"And by the Lord Harry I'll have it back again !" He had been holding the gun he was cleaning in his hand all the time he had been tell ing me what I have related ; and as be uttered this exclamation he jump ed up, and holding the gun by the barrel, made a blow at me with the stock. The attack was so sudden and unexpected that if my movement had not been as quick as my eye, I should probably have received the blow on my head as he undoubtedly intended I should. Luckily, I dodg ed it, and the gun came down on the back of the chair, smashing the back of the chair, and breaking the stock off from the barrel. Before he had time to recover himself to repeat the blow, I knocked him down, and beat him about the head with the metal butt of the pistol until he was inca pable of doing more harm. When I had done this, I was pezzled what next to do, for I did not like to leave him there bleeding; and there was nobody in the house to attend to him if I went away, his daughter and4tier brothers having, as I was told after wards, gone to the cathedral at Sal isbury, in the hope of seeing the judge there. I went to the well, and drew up a pail of water ; and soak ing my handkerchief in it I went back and bound it round his head, and then started for the town as fast ,as I could go, calling as I went to my friend's house, at a surgeon's where I belt word that his services were wanted at the Pheasant. My friend's residence was beyond the city ; and when I got there, I found that he had gone to Laverstock, but was expected home to dinner, I had decided that I would tell him what had happened before I gave notice to the authorities. I knew that there was no chance of Jackson making his escape; and I did not imagine that he was in a condition to give any instructions to anybody to go to Squire Winter with an account of what had passed. Hour after hour went by and my friend did not come home. I dined • alone ; and about eleven o'clock, he returned, apologiz ing for his absence from his dinner table by saying that he had found an old school fellow staying with his friend whom he had not seen for sev eral years. Late as it Was, I told bim of the discovery I had made , but he thought as it was then so late; and we should be sure of finding Jack son the' next day, that the matter might very well stand over until then. I did not quite approve of his advice, but I suffered myself to be persuad ed. The next morning we went to the court-house earlier then usual, and constables were despatched to appre hend Winter, andlackson also, it' he was in a condition to be moved. The latter was found in bed at his house, but the former was not discoverable anywhere. None of the servants knew where he had gone to; all they could say was that he had gone out on the Sunday afternoon as usual and had not returned. What bad become of him was never ascertained. As for Jackson, he was recovering fast from his wounds; but erysipelas at tacked him, and in a short time he had gone where the justice of man could not reach him.—Ward's release was obtained on a representation of the case in the proper quarter; but whether he availed himself of his right to agratuitous passage to this country, or preferred remaining where be was I am unable to say. oaf- The New York Evening Post, an intensely Republican sheet in a recent editorial said : "It is our duty to insist that when ever our flag floats, there an Ameri can citizen may say what he thinks, to whoever chooses to hoar him." It is characteristic of the ground hog never to come out of his bole in the Spring, until he has unmistaka ble signs of fair Weather. The Post in changing tactics, from the sup pression of newspapers and the in carceration of American citizens, for attempting to enjoy the privilege it now claims, shows a fair change for the better, and we welcome it and several other Republican journals to the true doctrine of American free dom. no- The quantity of digestion that a German can get over is really won derful. We once boarded with ono who disposed of six meals a day, and filled up the intervals with raw her. rings and sardines. We never knew him to groan but once, and that was when be heard that the schooner "Roder Kass," loaded - with sour krout, had foundered at sea, and nothing had been saved but fficers and crew.