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From the American Monthly, (Knickerbocker.)
The Susquehanna.
O River of the winding shore !
Could I but tell thy beauties o'er,
How many a stream that now, perchance,
Has high renown in old romance,
Or was, when yet the art was young,
In verse, by ardent poet sung,
Should be eclipsed by thee !
The earth has nowhere greener fields
Than thy refresh ng moisture yields ;
Though loftier mountains bind the Rhine,
None are more beautiful than thine ;
Health through thy fertile valleys roams,
And virtue blesses all their homes,
With pure felicity.
Thy banks are rich with !standing corn
Thy golden wheat is still unshorn
In the rich clover teed the klne.
Or 'neath the chestnut's blithely gay,
All redolent of new•mown hay,
Comes tripping o'er the stile.
My home has been among thy hills;
Thy music, Susquehanna, fills
My soul with vast and pure delight,
Whether thou glides[ still and bright,
Or whether, when autumn rain
Pours down thy mountain slopes amain
Thou roll'st majestic by.
seek not Arno's shelvy side,
And Bonnie Doon shall neier divide
My steadfast heart and hope from thee ;
Among thy wildnesses I see,
Unwritten romance. But, oh ! where
The wizard band that now may dare
To st .rt the forms to life?
Oh! would that I could bring once more
Van Campen to thy winding shore;
And o'er the hill at shut of day,
Upon the war path urge his way;
And make each creek and hillside rife
With war whoop shrill, and sound of strife,
And deadly revelry!
The hope is vain. 'Tis not for Me,
Weird Susquehanna, to set free
And clothe again in human mould
The shades that nightly stalk each weld ;
And ere they pass beyond my ken,
Wave over them the magic pen,
And bid them live for aye.
Mine he a less ambitious role;
And though I oft at evening stroll
Along the path across the hill,
And see the shadows quickly steal
Athwart my war, with quiet tread
I wonder on, still spirit-led,
To reach the rippling shore;
Whose sparkling waters met my sight
When first my eyes beheld the light;
And, when at la.st. I take nay rest,
Tneu lightly on thy sinking breast
I pray my kindly loam shall press,
And fold me in that long caress
Which the last trump shall break!
LEN NI LENAPE
literavg.
Translated for the Daily lutelligencer
'Ghat a Fairy Tale
In the days when the fairies still had
power over the inhabitants of the earth,
And the elves still dwelt in the woods
and fields, there lived an old woman
who had two daughters, who were re
nowned throughout the country for
their beauty and grace. But, though
they were alike in person, so much so,
indeed, that you scarcely knew them
apart, they differed completely in char
acter and disposition ; for while Zita,
the elder, was haughty and ungentle,
the kind and obliging man nerof Blanche
endeared her to all who knew her.
Now the mother of the two girls had
often tried, but in vain, to correct the
faults of her eldest child. Nothing,
however, that she could do or say had
any influence over the self-willed Zita,
who, vain ,of her beauty, spent all her
time admiring herself in the brook, or
twining garlands of flowers to wear;
while her mother and the industrious
Blanche constantly labored for the
maintenance of the family.
At length, iu despair about the con-
duct of Zita, the mother determined to
ask the assistance of the fairy Good
will, in reforming her idle habits. She
knew that the fairy would assist her,
for She was always ready to help those
who were truly deserving, and besides
this the old woman had once been able
to render service to the fairy, and she
was the god-mother of the two sisters,
though, for some reason or other, this
was unknown to them, nor had either
of them ever seen her.
Good-will listened attentively to the
mother's story. "If I can," she said,
" I will certainly aid you. But I must
first judge for myself what will be ne
cessary for me to do, and even if my ac
tions and their consequences should
seem harsh, remember that all I do is
for your klaughtes good. Return to
your home, and say nothing of this ;
only leave the rest to me."
The next morning, while Blanche
and her mother were seated at the door,
both busily spinning, and Zita, as usual,
doing nothing, but complaining of the
heat; they saw a little old woman evi
dently very poor, leaning on a staff, ap
proach them. She spoke to them very
politely, and asked leave to rest for a
while. Blanche immediately hastened
to bring her a comfortable chair, and a
glass of milk and piece of bread, which
she offered to the old woman saying at
the same time, " I am sorry, good
mother, that I cannot offer you better
fare, but it is all we have, and you are
heartily welcome to what little we can
give."
The old woman thanked her, and
turning to Zita, asked if she would not
bring her a bunch of the lovely flowers
which grew in the cottage garden.—
Zita carelessly answered that "if she
wished the flowers she might gather
them for herself." But the mother,
indignant at this rudeness to the poor
woman, ordered the girl to bring im
mediately as beautiful a nosegay as she
could. Zita, not daring to disobey her
mother's express connnand, obeyed
sulkily and returning, was about to
throw the blossoms in to the old woman's
lap—when her shabby clothes changed
to the most gorgeous apparel, her
wrinkled face to one of youthful beauty,
her staff to a magic wand ; and' the
fairy Good-will stood before the aston
ished party.
Blanche and her mother were about to
thiow themselves on their knees, when
the fairy stopped them. "I do not wish
such homage from you," she said.
" Your kind reception of me, while in
disguise has proved the goodness of your
hearts, and I wish to reward you for it.
To you, Blanche, I promise happiness
and contentment ; to you," turning to
the mother, " the removal ofyour great
est evil. As for you, Zita, your conduct,
to-day has sufficiently proved to me
what you are, and I shall take you
away from the mother and sister, whose
kindness you do not seem able to appre
ciate."
Good-will then turned to Blanche,
who, in spite of the fairy's promises to
her was weeping bitterly. "Do not,"
she said," afflict yourself foryour sister,
the time of her absence from you will
depend altogether upon herself. She
must be corrected for her faults, and so
soon as she shall .learn to think and
care for others, she shall be restored to
you. "
Touching Zita with her wan d,th e fairy
disappeared. But the touch of the wand
had i'frectecha wonderful change ; Zita
found herself in a farm yard, which she
had never seen before. Her dress was
shabby and faded, her hands rough and
catching a glimpse of herself as she
looked around, in the horse pond, she
discovered an immense hump between
her shoulders. Nor was this all ; for
the very first, steps that she attempted
to make showed her that she was lame.
She sat down and cried with vexation.
But ere many minutes had elapsed, she
heard a loud, shrill voice roiling
J. M. COOPER,
LLPIiMED BARIDERSON.
VOLUME 66
" Gretchen! Gretchen!"
Not dreaming that this was intended
for her, Zita sat still. But she was not
long allowed to remain in quiet, for af
ter, repeated calls, a cross-looking woman
came up to her, and giving her a push,
bade her answer, when next she was
called, and then, putting a pail in her
hand, sent her off to the spring to draw
water.
Zita was about to refuse to obey, when
the' sight of a rod which the woman
held, made her hasten to the spring.—
The rest of the day passed slowly, in
hard labor, in which Zita, despite her
reluctance, was compelled to bear her
part, for she and the cross woman were
the only persons on the farm.
Day after day went on, in constant
labor, Litn er hard fare, and Zita, weary
and exli'austed, for she dared not dis
obey her harsh mistress, was glad at
night to creep to her humble couch.—
Still, though she was compelled to be
industrious, her conduct in other re
spects had not changed, and she was as
unkind to the poor people who came to
beg, as it was in her power to be.
She had been nearly a year at the
farm-yard, when one morning a poor
boy, ragged and barefoot, happened to
pass while Zita was eating her simple
breakfast. Nearly starved, he looked
greedily at the bread, and Zita, struck
by a sudden feeling of compassion,
placed the loaf in his hands. At the
same moment, she heard a voice, say
ing, " Kind deeds bring their own re
ward," and getting up to return to her
daily labor, she found that her lameness
had wholly disappeared, and that she
could walk as well as she ever did in
her life. She was, however, surprised
to see that no one seemed toobserve the
slightest change in her, but she was so
much pleased herself, that the increased
ease with which she moved, rendered
her tasks that day light in comparison.
Finding that one kind action had pro
duced such a marvellous result, she re
solved to try the effect of constant good
ness, but she found thatsuch resolutions
are easier to make than to keep. Sonic
days she seemed to have little or no dif
ficulty in being gentle and obliging,
and on those days the hump on her
back would decrease in size ; other days
again, all her old faults would return,
and then the unsightly hump between
her shoulders would regain its original
dimensions. But Zita was determined
to succeed, and the conquest over her
self became daily greater, her deformi
ties gradually began to disappear, and,
stranger to tell, her labor, which had
been the hardest drudgery of the farm,
became lighter and more pleasant, and
•her mistress' conduct to her was kind
and indulgent. Zita began to wonder
how long her present situation was to
last, but she resolved that as she was
now so much happier than she ever had
been before ; that she would always fol
low her present course, and never re
lapse into the bad habits which had
brought her so much unhappiness.
During all this time, Blanche and her
mother had lived quietly at the cottage.
Industrious and contented, their lives
flowed peacefully on. Though Zita's
absence had greatly increased their hap
piness, their kind hearts longed for the
day, when, cured of her faults, she
should be restored to them. But their
quiet life was soon to cease, forone day,
while Blanche sat spinning at her cot
tage door,a young and handsome knight,
who passed, fell in love with her, and,
after a short time, she became his wife.
In her exalted position, Blanche pre
served the seine good qualities which
had always been so conspicuous in her.
Everyone loved her. And Blanche and
her mother thought and said, that to
complete their happiness, they only
needed their poor Zita. And Zita's
punishment was nearly ended. She
had entirely regained her former beauty
—her trial was nearly over. For one
day as she was giving some flowers to a
poor woman, whom she had nursed
through a severe illness, the grateful
creature wished her, every happiness.
"I thank you for your good wishes,"
was the reply of the once haughty girl,
"but until I am again restored to my
mother and my sister, I can never be
happy or contented."
Scarcely had the words been uttered
than Zita found herself in the presence
of those whom she had so longed to
see. And oh! how gladly was she
welcomed! how joyfully did she meet
them ! but 'ere more than kisses had
passed between them, the fairy Good
will stood before them.
" Madam," she said to the mother,
"I restore your daughter corrected, I
hope, of the faults of which you com
plained. And know, Zita, that you,
have done well, I can say it, for I my
self have been your mistress, and every
thing which has befallen you I have
ordered, both to prove you and for your
good. Persevere as you have begun,
and you will truly find that ' kind deeds
bring their own reward.' "
And ere they could thank her,
Good-will had disappeared. But the
good effect:: of her care of Zita never
were lost ; she became as much beloved
as Blanche, and she was now as good
and unselfish as she had previously
been haughty and disagreeable.
After awhile, she married the brother
of Blanche's husband ; and they all
lived happily all the days of their lives,
but Zita never ceased to be grateful to
the good fairy whe had been so instru-
mental in promoting her welfare. And
- ,
in after years, when she saw in any of
her child ren the faults which had caused
her to be so severely tried, she would
tell them her story, and how the fairy
Good-will had punished her.
A white fur on the tongue attends
simple fever and inflammation. Yel
lowness of the tongue attends a derange
ment of the liver, and is common to
bilious and typhus fevers. A tongue
vividly red on the tip or edge, or down
the centre, or over the whole surface,
attends inflammation of the mucous
membrane of the stomach or bowels. A
white velvet tongue attends mental
disease. A tongue red at the tips, be
coming brown, dry and glazed attends
typhus state.
The inmates of the Monastery of
St. Catherine of Siena Sicily, have had
a narrow :escape. About fifty monks
had retired to the large dormitory of
that establishment, when the wall of
the building suddenly fell in, burying
them alive. Happily, assistance was
soon procured, and all the monks ex
cept one, unfortunate man, were rescued
from their perilous situation. It "as,
however, found impossible to extricate
a certain Brother Auseim, the first who
gavefthe alarm, from thedebria that-had
fallen upon him, until four hours had
elapsed, when only his dead body was
dug out of the ruins.
—Never marry withoutlove, nor love
Without reason.
.
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iirislitie,/
The Tongue
The Two Cowards
"I was a coward! We were both
cowards!"
So spake our old law tutor, Moses
Drake, and thus he continued:
"We had graduated from Harvard,
Laban Adams and myself—and had
commenced the practice of law. We
were neither of us married, though we
were anticipating that event. We had
a case in Court—a case of trespass.
Adams was for the plaintiff and I for
the defendant. It was a weak and fool
ish complaint and Adams should not
have taken it up. It was merely a case
of extortion. The plaintiff held a rod
over the back of the defendant in the
shape of a bit of knowledge concerning
a private misstep of a former time, and
the present complaint was only a seem-
ingly legal way in which that other
power was to be used for the purpose of
opening the poor luau's purse. At the
trial I exposed the trick, and obtained
the ruling out by the court of a scandal
which Adams had planned to introduce
as testimony. Of course I was severe,
and as my opponent had entered upon
a very bad case, my strictures cut home.
I gaind the verdict for my client and
people laughed at the tolled plaintiff,
and spoke lightly of his lawyer.
" Thus it commenced. Adams could
not forgive me for the chagrin I had
caused him. He had laid it up against
me, and talked openly about being re
venged. This was on the first of Au
gust. A month afterwards we met at a
party, where the gentlemen drank
wine. Late in the evening dams and
I met, and a third person made some
remark upon the old trial, whereupon
a fourth person laughed and said I had
done a great thing. At this Adams
flushed and made an impudent reply.
The reply was addressed to me and I
answered it. The two outsiders laughed
at the hit I had made, and Adams said
something more severe than before. I
replied to him. He deliberately told
me that I was a liar !
" I had been drinking wine and my
blood was heated. As that harsh
hard, cowardly word fell upon my
ear my passions overcame me. I
struck Laban Adams in the face and
knocked him back against the wall. It
was a cowardly thing for me to strike
him there in that company; but I AWLS
too much excited to reflect. I expected
Adams would strike back but he did
not. I was stronger than he, though
this consideration may not have influ
enced him. His friends drew away
and I went out into the open air. As
soon as the cold breeze fanned my brow,
and eased the heated blood away from
my brain, I was sorry for what I had
done; but it was too late to help the
matter. I might have gone to Adams
and asked him to overlook the wrong I
had done, but I had not the courage for
that.
On the following morning a friend
named Watkins, called upon me and
presented a note from Laban Adams.—
I opened it and found it to be a chal
lenge. I was requested to give satisfac
tion for the blow I had struck. If I was
a gentleman I would do so. If I was
willing, I might designate the time and
place, and select the weapons.
What should I do?
What I ought to do was very plain.
The lessons of life which my fond moth
er had taught me did not leave me in
doubt. I ought to have gone to Adams
and made such an offer of conciliation
as one gentleman may honorably make
to another; and if he rejected that, I
could have simply turned from and re-
fused to do a further wrong to right the
wrong already done. But I had not the
courage to do that—l was a coward. I
feared that my friends would laugh at
me and that the especial friends of Ad-
ams would point at me the finger of
So in the cowardice of my heart, I
;hought I would be brave before the
world, and I accepted the challenge.
" The sooner it is over, the better,"
remarked Watkins.
" Certainly," I responded. " Let it be
on this very day at sunset, upon the
river's bank, directly beneath the White
Heart Ledge. I will send a friend to
you to make further arrangements."
" And the weapons ?"
" Pistols."
And so it was fixed. An hour after
wards I found John Price, a young
physician, who agreed to act as my
second. He did not urge me to abandon
the idea, nor did he enter the work as
though he loved it ; but he did it be
cause he fancied that I was determined
and in case of accident his professional
services might be of value.
I knew that Adams was a good shot,
and he knew that I was the same, for
we had practiced much together ; so that
there was no advantage to either party
in the weapons.
After dinner Price came to me, and
told me all was arranged. Everything
had been fixed as I had planned, and
Adams and his second would be on the
appointed ground at the appointed time.
After Price had gone, I sat down and
wrote two letters. What a coward I
was to write them ! One was to my
mother, and the other to the gentle
being who had promised to be my wife.
As I sit now and think of that hour, I
shudder with horror—the hour I wrote
to my mother and my betrothed. What
was I about to do? To rob them of all
earthly joy forever! And for what?
Aye—for what? Because I had not the
courage to be a bold, frank man ; to
obey my God and the laws of my
country ! I was to bow before a wicked
spirit—to offer my blood to folly, and
my hand to murder!
White-Heart Ledge was a light, per
pendicular wall of granite rising above
the river, the top crowned with dark
spruce trees. It received its name from
a peculiar mark, where a mass of white
quartz appeared, half-way up the ledge,
in the form of a heart.
Late in the afternoon I was upon the
sandy shore beneath the ledge; and al
most at the same time Laban Adams
made his appearance. We were both
anxious to be thought brave men. He
did not speak to me. Our seconds con
ferred awhile together, and then Price
came to my side:
" Must things go on ?"
I told him I did not know how it could
be stopped. I lied ; for I did know.
He informed me that if I would make
the least overture of peace, he felt sure
that Adams would accept it.
" I think," he said, " that Adams is
sorry for what has happened. You
struck him, and he cannot retract."
"And he called me a liar!"
" I know he did, and I know he did
wrong. In fact, there was,wrong upon.
both sides. Offer him youir hand, and
I think he will take it without expla
nation."
No; I would not do it! And why
not? I wanted to do it! My heart
urged me to do it. The spirit of my
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, MAY 17, 1865
dear mother, speaking in those old les
sons of love and blessing, urged me to
do it. God speaking through His son,
urged me to do it. The law of the land
urged me to do it.
And yet I would not. I was afraid
that men would say I was a coward. 0,
what a precious coward I was!
"You are both good shots," added'
Price; "and if you fire together you
may both fall."
But I dared not offer the hand of con
ciliation. I told him I was ready.
He went back to Watkins, and pretty
soon they measured off the ground—
twelve paces. We were to stand back
to back, those twelve paces apart. We
were to turn at the word one, we were
to raise our .pistols at the word two, and
at the word three we were to fire. I
caught the eye of Laban Adams as I
took my position, and I was sure no
angry passion dwelt therein. For an
instant the impulse was within me to
drop my pistol and offer him my hand.
I was sure he would not refuse me. But
I had not the courage to do it. I would
rather do the deep, damning wrong,
than do that simple Christian act of
love!
Our seconds heSitated, as though they
saw what was passing in our thoughts;
but we offered no word and they pro
ceeded. The word one was given. I
cannot tell the feelings that came crowd
ing upon me at that moment. I stood
face to face- with my brothers ; in a
moment more we were to offer our hands
to the infernal stains! I thought of my
college days, when Laban Adams had
been my friend and chum ; I thought
of the holy love which had been beamed
upon me since I had grown to man's
estate ; and I thought that in one short
moment more the black pall might cover
it all!
Watkins was a long time in pronoun
cing the word two. He evidently hoped
that one of us would relent—but he
hoped in vain. Only a breath held back
the last fatal word ; but that word was
never spoken.
As we raised our pistols, a sharp, ago
nized cry, as from a breaking heart,
burst upon the air, and in another mo
ment two light shadows flitted upon the
scene. I was a prisoner—Laban Adams
was a prisoner. Our pistols lay, undis
charged, upon the ground.
Two gentle maidens, who loved us
better than we loved ourselves, and
whose love had led them to deep anxiety
in our behalf, had guessed our secret.
Love has sharp eyes. Clara 'Wolcott
knew Laban's hot temper when under
strong excitement, and she feared some
thing of this kind from the first. She
had only to whisper her suspicions to
Mary, and two sleepless sentinels were
upon us.
These two warm spirits, with their
cries and their tears, melted the joy
crust, and our hearts found the surface.
" 0, in God's name, be enemies no
more ?" implored Clara.
" By the love you bear me—by the
memory of all you hold dear on earth,
and all you hope to meet in heaven—
cast forth the demon fiom your heart
prayed Mary.
In an instant I resolved to be a man
With the arms of my beloved still eh:
cling me, I stretched forth my hand;
but I was not in advance of Laban. As
though one spirit had moved us, our
hands met midway.
" I have been a fool," said Laban.
"And I havebeen a fool and a coward,
because I dare not do right."
" Aye," cried Labau, " we have both
been cowards."
" And," I added, " had it not been for
tese blessed angels, we might have been
something worse."
We returned from the dark ground
just as the day was softening into twi
light, and from that hour Laban Adams
and myself were fast friends ; and they
who had saved us from great crime en
tered upon the life-path with us, and
have blessed us ever since.
Alin at Something
Arthur Gilman, in one of his public
addresses, tells what he calls"an An
dover story." One day, he says, a man
went in to a store there, and began telling
about a fire. "There had never been
such a fire," he said, "in the county of
Essex. A man going by Deacon
Pettingill's barn saw an owl on the
ridge-pole. He fired at the owl, and
the wadding, somehow or other, getting
into the shingles, set the hay on fire,
and it was all destroyed—ten tons of
hay, six head of cattle, the finest horse
in the country," &c. The deacon was
nearly crazed by it. The men in the
store began exclaiming and comment
ing upon'it. "What a loss l"; says one.
"Why, the deacon will well nigh break
down under it," says another. And so
they went on speculating, one after an
other, and the conversation drifted on in
all sorts of conjectures. At last a quiet
man, who sat spitting in the fire, look
ed and asked: "Did he hit the Owl?"
That man was for getting at the point
of the thing. Let all public speakers
in the pulpit and elsewhere, heed the
moral. Did you aim at something, and
did you hit what you aimed at? No
matter about the splurge, and the
smoke, and the hay—" Did you hit that
owl ?"
The Greenland Violins
A missionary stationed in Greenland,
wrote some years ago : "In the house
of a helper-brother, with whom I stayed
over night, on oue of my visits to the
out-dwellers, I saw two violins hanging
on the wall. I took one of them,
which was small and neatly made, and
found that it had a very sweet tone.
" Where did you get this violin?" I
asked. "My - son made it," was the
reply. The boy is only fourteen years
old. I took the other from the wall,
and supposed that it had been im
ported from Europe, because it was
beautifully finished, and had a very
good tone. I asked again, But where
did you buy this one?' Buy ?' said
the helper ;' I made it myself.' While
I still kept my eyes fixed on him in
astonishment, he took the violin out of
my hand, and played, very correctly,
some of our hymn tunes. When I ex
pressed my pleasure and surprise, he
complained of having no more hair for
his bow ; 'for' said he, 'my wife will not
part" with any more, and indeed I have
deprived her of so much, that she is de
termined to keep the little that is left.'
Thus his wife had furnished him with
hair for his bow, and the seals with
strings for his violin.
—A lady passing through New Hamp
shire observed the following notice on
a board :—" Horses taken in to grass. 7
Long tails three shillings and sixpence,
Shoit tails two shilliriks." The lady
asked the owner of the land the reason
for the difference of the prices He an
swered : "You see ma'am the long tails
can brush awaythe flies; bitethe short
tails are so parniented by Mein that they
can hardly eat at all.” '"'
How They Go to Bed
The difference between a mau and a
woman in disposition, finds no plainer
illustration than that afforded at the
moment when either of them retires to
bed.
The young girl trips to her chamber,
and with the cautious timidity peculiar
to her, firstlocks the. doors, and arranges
the window curtains, so that by no pos
sible chance a passer-by or belated noc
turnal wanderer from the pavement can
catch a glimpse of her budding beauty
when en dishabille.. This task com
pleted, she turns or the gas to its full
head, and institutes a general search
throughout the apartment, that she may
be sure it does not contain a " horrible
burglar," or "desperate ruffian, in big
whiskers and crisp black hair." Care
fully, with her delicate little fingers,
she lifts the bed valance, where even
Tom Thumb couldn't squeeze his di
minutive corporation,and takes a dimin
utive peep into the half-emptied trunks,
not forgetting toglance nervously under
the sofa, the space between which and
the floor is not sufficient to contain the
ghost of Calvin Edson ; much less an
ordinary robber.
Having ascertained that she is really
alone, she leisurely proceeds to divest
her fair form of " the skill and linen
conventionalities of society." First,
she relieves her glossy - hair from its
thraldom of pins and combs, and " does
it up" more completely. Then offcomes
the little collar, and the light vapory
cloud of lace she calls her undersleeves,
which all the day have been clasped
around her white, plump arms by a
couple of India rubber strips. Next,
the " love of a spring silk" dress is un
fastened in front. Then sundry waist
strings and button-straps are loosed, and
lo ! what a collapse, like that of Lowe's
big ballot'. She stands like Saturn in
the centre ofrings. There they lie upon
the soft carpet, partly covered by the
inen underfixings, with no more ex
pression in them than there is in the
bare floor beneath the carpet. sits she
now on the edge of the snowy bed, and
begins the unlacing of gaiters and the
disrobing of those fair, swelling limbs of
her stockings. The pretty little foot is
carefully perched upon the knee—down
drops the gaiter, off comes the elastic,
and her thumb inserted at the top of
her stockings, pushes it down—down
over the heel, and the cotton rests be
sides the prunella. So with the other
foot, only involving a slight change of
her position.
There is a smile that peeps out from
behind the blushes of her sweet face
uow, as standing before the glass she
places upon her head the night-cap,
and with a quick twist of her fingers
ties the bewitching bow. Then the
night gown is thrown . over the frilled
chemise, concealing thel.heaving, bosom,
and the shoulders in the folds. Then
the counterpane and sheets are thrown
back, the gas is turned down—very,
very low—and the little form presses
the yielding couch, and the angel goes
off into the world of dreams.
Now, in the room directly over her is
the great brute of a brother. He comes
into it, shuts the door with a slam, turns
the key with a snap, growls at a chair
which happens to be in his way, pulls
off his boots and throws them in a cor-
ner, jerks his socks-from his feet, drops
his pantaloons on the floor and lets them
lay there ; gets off his coat and vest by
a quick, vindictive sort of twist of his
arms and body, unpins and unbuttons
his collar, throws it carelessly with the
tie at, rather than on the table ; travels
to the window in his shirt extremity,
to let down the curtains, as if he didn't
care a cuss whether the entire popula
tion of the street beheld his anatomy or
not ; then puts out the light and bounces
nto bed, like a great calf jumping
nto a pile of hay—curls himself up, his
knees nearly touching his nose, stretch
es his limbs. out, swears at the tucking
in of the bed clothes, grunts, gets over
on the other side, and is—asleep. The
comes in the snoring and snorting.
Isn't there a difference in style?
A Touching Incident
In 1860, a young lad was sent from
Charleston, S. C., to be educated at a
distinguished school near Latrobe, in
this State. About the same tithe, a sis
ter was sent to New York city for the
same purpose. These were children of
a widow lady in affluent circumstances
living in South Carolina. Shortly after
ward, the rebellion breaking out, all
communication was cut off with the
South, and it was impossible for the
children to hear from home. In the
course of time the young man's funds
run out, and though lie was urged by
heproprietor of theinstitution to remain
and pursue his studies gratuitously, he
was too high-spirited to do so ; but de
clared his ability and willingness to
earn his own livelihood. In the
meantime, owing to some cir
cumstance, he and his sister
lost all trace :of each other. She en
gaged in teaching in New York, and he
came to Johnstown and went to work
bravely and cheerfully. The sister ad
vertised in the Philadelphia and Pitts
burg papers for information concerning
him, and in reply received a letter from
one signing himself "E. Jones," to the
effect that he had been sent to the peni
tentiary for horse-stealing. In distress,
the young lady visited the Governor to
have him pardoned and released, and
was told that he could do nothing with
out knowing the particulars, and to
ascertain these she went to the Western
Penitentiary to examine into the mat
ter, where, to her relief, she found that
there was no truth in the report. She
then renewed her advertising and in
quiries, and at length succeeded in trac
ing him to this place, where she learned
that he was still living and employed at
the Iron Works. She sent him word
that she was here at a hotel and desired
to see him. He stopped work immedi
ately, and before meeting her went to
the barber shop to be shaved washed
and spruced up, in order to look some
thing like he was in his earlier days.—
The sister learned where he was—her
better judgment gave way to the im
pulse of feeling and emotion, and she
repaired to the shop, ordered the bar
ber to suspend the operation of
having, threw herself on her
knees before him, embraced and kissed
him in the presence of all the bystand
ers, and then took him to her room un
washed and unshaved, that she might
in a more retired way, renew the ardent
manifestations of a sister's undying
love. 0, what a lesson this teaches!
Only a, mother can love more intensely
than a sister. Here she realized that he
was still alive, d4till guiltless of crime
and unstained In character and,undis
graced by the fiendish report that he
had met a felon's f4e.—Johnatown Dem
ocrat.
-- General McDowell has suppressed a
newspaper, in California.
Thrifty and Careless
Two girls sat in Mrs. North's nursery
one cold January evening to enjoy the
comfortable fire. The maid of all works
was busy beside the evening lamp re
pairing an old gingham apron. It was
a very unpromising piece of work when
she began, but she worked away with a
cheerful good will, and soon its appear
ance was greatly improved. Susan
might, it is true have bought her a new
apron without any inconvenience ; she
had three hundred dollars out at inter
est, a legacy from her grandfather, but
she prudently let it remain where it
was, content with receiving her inter
est from it every year, and supplement.
ing it with her earnings. Many had
said to her they would not live out,
now they could do better. " Why not
invest her money learning a trade,
which would be far more genteel ?"
But Susan was stout and hearty, work
agreed with her, and sewing did not.
She felt that if she did her duty and de
ported herself properly, she would be as
much respected doing housework as if
sewing for a living.
The children were all asleep, and the
nurse was rocking leisurely beside the
fire, while a trunkful of unmended
clothes lay untouched in her room.
"Before I'd patch au apron ! Susie,"
she said, laughing; " I know you will
be an old maid, you are so particular."
" I would rather patch than wear
ragged clothes," said Susan good na
turedly. " I will not wear a torn dress
if I can help it, but I have one which
has a whole breadth made up of darns
and patches. I wore it last winter
through, and it will make good carpet
rags, now."
Jane rocked and laughed away at her
prudish companion, and Mrs. North,
who was knitting by the table, remark
ed to Jane that it would be an excellent
thing if she would follow Susan's ex
ample.
" I learned a lesson in economy when a
young girl, which I never have forgot
ten, though it was from a very simple
thing. I was spending the night with
a young friend, when her sister-in-law
had occasion to cut out a new dress for
her child. They were poor people, but
she took down a roll of carefully ironed
Pieces of stout cloth and laid them out
on her patterns, studying carefully over
them, to sec how she could piece out a
lining to the best advantage. She was
neither miserly nor parsimonious ; she
was only frugal, and her frugality was
the secret of the family's prosperity.—
The dress looked just as neatly when it
was done, as if the lining had not been
made out of half a dozen pieces. Her
husband is now Judge P . If his
wife had been a wasteful, untidy wo
man, he would never have had the
means nor the heart to rise in the
world.
Girls you may set it down asa fact, that
a woman who is not prudent and eco
nomical will never secure a comfortable
living, even if she marries a man with
ever so lucrative a business. If there is
not thrift at home, there will never be
a cheerful, comfortable look about any
thing. You know Mrs. Herron is al
ways fretting because her husband does
not get on in the world. She has a
drawer full of finery, china-ware and
the like, she is saving up untilshe shall
get a better home and have a parlor."
Her husband makes good wages, but it
will be a long time I am afraid before
she will get into that coveted house.
She thinks it " mean " to practice the
small economies—to warm the frying
pan and save the little drippings of suet,
to piece out linings, make over old
clothes into lesser ones for the children.
She will have a new sett of cheap jew
ehy every little while, that she may
' look like other folks.' Now there are
plenty of other laboring men who make
no more than he, who have now a little
home and garden of their own, all ac
quired by their industry and frugality.
"I read a little book when a child,
written by a great German writer called
Zschokke. The title of it was "Mend
the hole in your Sleeve." It began, I
believe, with an account of two boys
sitting down on a bench under the
trees, telling what great things they
would be and do when they were men.
" You will never be anything," said
an old man who was seated near them.
The lads turned, not well pleased at the
interruption to their bright day dreams.
" I see that you have a hole in your
sleeve," said he. " A boy that is going
to be anything when a man, will not
have a hole in his sleeve. If his moth-
er or sister cannot mend it for him, he
will mend it himself." The book fol-
lows the history of one of the lads, who
took that as his motto, and the history
abounds in useful suggestions and hints
about mending all manner of bad, thrift
less ways. I never knew any one read
it without being influenced by it to re
pair and set in order their own posses-
sions, whether they were little or much
" Depend upon it, girls, careless, un
tidy people will never be thrifty, never
get before-hand in the world. They live
n constant discomfort, and have a thou
sand times more trouble for want of well
mended and promptly made garments
than thrifty people ever have in putting
theirs in order.
Johnny Steele
Here is a story about Johnny Steele,
the adopted son of the Widow McClin
tock, who recently died. The most of
her property Widow McClintock willed
to her adopted son, John Steele, or
"Johnny" Steele, as he is usually called,
a young man now twenty-one years of
age, of good natural abilities, but uned
ucated as to how to apply them. He
had been a teamster over the hills and
through the gullies of Oildom when
this "streak of luck" came upon him,
and made him worse off in fact. He
immediately dropped the lines and pip
on good clothes—all right so far—and
has since led a very dissolute life all over
the country. For some time, it is said,
he went around with a band of minstrels.
Walking up Broadway, one day, he sa*
a pair of fine horses and carriage. He
stopped the driver and inquired hOw
much he asked for the whole rig. The
driver said $12,000, wherbupon "John
ny" hauled out the amount, and hand
ing it to the driver, jumped in for a
ride. Having had ride enough, and tak
ing a fancy to the driver(he made him
a present of his recent purchase. At
another time he is said to have purchased
the Continental Hotel, in Philadelphia,
in an extravagant freak. He gambled
with John Morrissey, and paids6oo,ooo,
it is said, for the amusement, Morrissey's
experience being too much for him.
He has had numerous narrow escapes
from losing his'too easily gotten wealth
by N. York and Philadelphia sharpers.
Where he is just now no one seems to
know. Some say he is dead, but he
will probably turn up some day, per
haps again is teamster.
NUMBER 19
ioxelbutouo.
The Trial of Mrs. Perrine.
WASHINGTON, Monday, May 8.
The trial of Mrs. Betty Perrine, ar
rested for colliding and consorting with
Major Harry Gilmore and his 'men
some months ago when they captured
two railroad trains between Baltimore
and Philadelphia, was commenced to
day before the Military Court of which
Brig. Gen. Chapman is President, and
Col. N. P. Chipman Judge Advocate.—
Governor Thomas Corwin, Minister to
Mexico, is counsel for the accused.—
This is a very peculiar trial, and severs
circumstances connected with it attach
to it an extraordinary interest. The
accused is quite young, not over 22, and
the widow of an officer on General Lee's
staff. She is also handsome, and her
, beauty is rendered quite spirited by the
defiance with which she faces the stars
and eagles of the court, and the quiet
way in which she nods when witnesses
testify to her sympathy for the rebels.
Whether such a bearing tends to con
vince the Court of her innocence, is an
other question. She is reported very
wealthy, is the daughter of Judge Lee
of Baltimore, and one of the leaders of
the secesh aristocracy, fashions and
politics of that city. Another circum
stance is the singular interest which
General Dix is said to take in the case,
he having once examined and dismissed
it. The following is an abstract of the
testimony taken to-day on the part of
the Government :
Surgeon Delevan Bloodgood, United
States Navy, sworn. Was a passenger
on the last train captured by Maj. Gil
more ; recognized the lady as one whom
he saw there ; first noticed her pointing
out her personal, baggage to be spared
she exhibited great exhiliration and
pleasure at the capture, and recognized
many friends and acquaintances among
the robbers. He saw her point out to
the rebels many articles belonging to
himself and others, saying they belong
ed to Union officers and might be con
venient for them—Gilmore 's band—to
have.such as military uniforms,'swords,
revolvers and shirts ; saw her offer a
rebel officer a table cover from a trunk
for a saddle-blanket ; heard her declare
earnestly that she was exceedingly glad
to see them, and she expressed great
gratification. She was with them
several hours and pointed out to them
Capt. Schermerhorn s baggage; also saw
her offer a roll of bills to a rebel private
who refused them saying:he had enough.
She was with the rebels most of the time,
and I heard was of the party that
took a pic-nic with them under the
trees. Mrs. Perrine pointed out a large
bundle belonging to an officer, and told
the Rebels it ought to be opened and
distributed. She sat with the Rebels
on the trunks outside the cars, and
chatted with them, handing them books,
papers, and other things interesting or
valuable. There was a great deal of
confusion. Never saw Gilmore before.
Heard accused say how well he looked,
and how he had changed. It was un
derstood that these ladies were traveling
from Baltimore and going to Newport,
Rhode Island. There was a man with
these ladies whom I Kipposed was Lee.
Mr. Hanna,
Assistant Paymaster in the
Navy, was there. He has now resigned
and lives at Cleveland, Ohio. I was in
uniform at the beginning of the affair,
but afterward disguised myself. Thought
from general appearance and conduct
of accused that she consorted with the
Rebels from a desire to assist them.
Counsel for accused objected to such
testimony. Witness must confine him
self to facts. The President replied that
it was obviously impossible to describe
all the expressions of joy or define the
exact dilation and contraction of the
pupils of the eye. Counsel waived his
objection for the present. Witness tes
tified that he gave this statement before
Gen. Dix.
Mrs. C. E. T. Clark, sworn—Resides
in Burlington, Vt.; was on the train
captured last summer by Harry Gil
more. Had not noticed the accused at
that time until I saw some person break
open a box, and I said was it not a
shame; the accused then jumped up
from a box where she was sitting with
a rebel officer, and said, no, it was not a
shame, it was right; I asked her if it
was right to steal. She said yes, it was
right to steal from the Government.
Afterward she and other ladies, said to
be rebel sympathizers, went off with
rebel officers, and I was told they had a
pic-nic. We went down on board a
gunboat and I told the officer all about
her conduct.
Here counsel for accused desired that
the case go over till Friday, which was
agreed to. Two lady friends were in
Court with the accused, all being in
deep mourning. Mrs. Perrine did not
exhibit any signs of emotion or embar
rassment, but is cheerful to the very
verge of good taste. She prompts her
distinguished counsel with considerable
skill. It is stated that Gen. Dix has
written her aletter volunteering his ser
vices a 9 witness, and covering his pho
tograph, which she cherishes with justi
fiable pride. The General is summoned
accordingly, and will probably testify
when the case is resumed. Mr. Hanna,
formerly Paymaster in the Navy, is
also summoned. The accused is kept
under arrest.
The Price of Coal
The New York World says :
Coal has gone down about four dollars
per ton all over the country. A few
weeks since the poorest kind was selling
at retail in this city at thirteen dollars
per ton ; it is now advertised at eight
dollars. The fall in gold, the stoppage
of the great government factories of
arms, the withdrawal of the navy de
mand, and the certainty of abundant
labor in the future, all have had their
effect in bringing clown the price. The
coal companies have been compelled to
reduce the price of labor to three dollars
per day, which has caused a general
strike on the part of the miners; but
the latter cannot help themselves, and
must work, or other laborers will take
their place. Railroad tolls must soon
come down ; and, altogether, we doubt
whether coal can be held at over seven
dollars per ton after the Ist of June.
A Sharp Retort.
The La Crosse Democrat is responsi
ble for the following good thing:
At one of the hotels in our city, the
landlord said to a boarder:
"See here, Mr.—, the chambermaid
found a hair-pin in yourbed, this morn
ing, and it will not answer."
_ .
" Well," replied the boarder, "
found a hair in the butter this morning,
but it did not prove you had a woman
in it."
The two men looked at each other
for about ten seconds, when each smiled
and went his way, no doubt pondering
on the peculiarities of circumstantial
evidence.
—I say, old fellow, what are your
politics?" said one friend quizzing
ai}othei. " Conservative, my father
Was conservative," he replied. "And
what is your religion ?" continued the
other. "Protestant, my father was a
protestant," was the answer. "And
why are you a bachelor?" said the
other. " Because my father was a—oh,
confound it ! don't bother me with your
stupid questions."
sta- When Dr. Johnson asked the
widow Porter to be his wife, he told her
candidly that he was of mean extrac
tion,that he had no money, that he'd
had an uncle hanged. The widow re
plied that she cared nothing for his pa
rentage, that she had no money herself,
though she had fifty relations who de
served hanging. So they made a match
of it.
Love is not ripened in one day nor
many, nor, even in a human lifetime.—
It is the openness of soul with soul in
appreciation and perfect trust. To be
blessed it must rest in that with in the
Divine which underlies every other
emotion. To be true it must be eternal
as God himself.
BATEII . 43OF ADVEIIIIISIING. . -
Busnexsa Anvaltrnyeerstrm, 512 a year per
square of ten lines; ten per cent, increase for
fractions of a_year.
REAL ESTATE, ..SONAL .rHAPKIITY and Gee-
ERAS. ADT3I3IT/SERG, '7 cents a line for the
fl ti ist,and 4 cents for each *mlisequent inser
n.
PATENT MEDICIEr and other adver's by tne
column:
One column, 1 year,- it/00
Half column, I 60
Third oolumn, 1 year,:... 40
Quarter column, ..... . • .......
Ir - unarm Canna, of ten lines Of' ieqs,
one year, 10
Business Cards, five lines or less, one
AND .5
LEGAL AND oral= NOTICES—
Executors' n0tice5.:............_........2.00
Administrators' notices 2.00
Assignees' notices . •.. 2.00
Auditors' notices
Other "Notices," ten lines, or . less,
three times,
The Mexican Enterprise and Our Neu
trality Laws.
The New York World says :
There is movement in certain quarters
to induce soldiers, discharged from the
victorious armies of the United States,
to go to... Mexico, and fake part in the
affairs of that country. The ultimate
or proximate object of these expeditions
may or may not be a worthy one. At
any rate, it will, as we have said before,
be useful to all concerned to understand
the law touching participation in affairs
of foreign people, before they mature
their plans.
In the year 181 S, the Congress of the
United States, passed an act to preserve
the neutrality of the nation, and that
act being still in force, President John
son, is bound by oath of office to see that
it is faithfully executed.
Its first section provides that if any
citizen shall, within our territory, accept
and exercise a commission to serve a
foreign prince or people, in war, by land
or sea, against any prince or people with
whom we are at peace, he shall be fined
and shall be imprisoned.
The second section provides that "if
any person shall, within the territory
or jurisdiction of the United States, en
list or enter himself, or hire or retain
another person to enlist or enter him
self, to go beyond the limits or juris
diction of the United States, with intent
to he enlisted or entered in the service
of any foreign prince, state, colony,
district, or people, as a soldier, or as a
marine, or seaman," he shall be fined
and imprisoned.
The sixth section of the same act pro
vides that "if any person shall, within
the territory or jurisdiction of the United
States, begin or set on foot, or provide
or prepare the means for any military
expedition or enterprise, to be carried
on from thence against the territory or
dominions of any foreign prince or
state, or of any colony, district, or peo
ple, with whom the United States are
at peace, every person so offending shall
be deemed guilty of a high misdemean
or, and shall be fined and imprisoned,"
etc.
Now, it is not a crime, under this act,
the courts have held, to leave this coun
try with intent to enlist elsewhere, in a
foreign military service; nor to trans
port persons out of the country, with
their own consent, who have an inten
tion.of so enlisting. In other words, to
constitute a crime under the sections
we have cited, persons must enlist here,
or be hired or retained here to go
abroad, with the intent of so enlisting
elsewhere. The law punishes all kinds
of contracts made here which contem
plate or look to military service else
where, against a ruler or people with
whom we are at peace. And, it will be
observed that the law visits the same
penalty upon the person who procures
or hires another to enlist !L9 upon the
person who is enlisted.
We do not wish our bravo boys in blue
to run thoughtlessly into the meshes of
the law, or to be induced to go therein
by stupid persons like Mr. Allen,
who writes in the Evening Post, and.
seems to be laboring under the delusion
that one side or the other in Mexico has
a right to recruit in our country.
Our advice is to wait till the govern
ment gives the word, and then, with
Grant, Sherman, Thomas, and Sheridan
to lead the way, we will make short
work of everything north of the isthmus
and, if need be, the islands of the waters
about the gulf. And right here, the
governments of Spain, France, and
Great Britain ought to understand that,
if they desire to retain their possessions
on this continent ? they must do
every proper thing to concili
ate, and thus strengthen the hands of
President Johnson to keep the peace.--
If, however, they seek collision with
us, it will take but a few rude words
from them to bring it on, and then there
will be no pause. Foreign nations must
remember that the present President of
the United States is a statesman who
believes in the pcop/c, and that the
masses in the United States are quite
ready for a little bayonet practice in
Mexico, or around our isthmian crossing.
jlapp in ess
The idea has been transmitted from
generation to generation that happiness
is one large and beautiful precious stone,
a single gem so rare that all search after
it is vain, all efforts for it hopeless. It
is not so. Happiness is a Mosaic com
posed of many smaller stones. Each
taken apart and viewed singly may be
of little value, but when all are grouped
together and judiciously combined and
set, they form a pleasing and graceful
whole—a costly jewel. Trample not
under foot, then, the little pleasures
which a gracious Providence scatters in
the daily path, and which in eager
search after sonre great and exciting joy,
we are so apt to overlook. Why should
we always keep our eyes fixed on the
bright, distant horizon, while there are
so many lovely roses in the garden in
which we are permitted to walk ? The
very ardor of our chase after happiness
may be the reason that she so often
eludes our grasp. We pantingly strain
after her when she has been graciously
brought nigh unto us.
Don't Complain
Don't complain of your birth, your
training, your employment, your hard
ships ; never fancy you could be some
thing if you only had a different lot or
sphere assigned to you. God under
stands his own plans, and knows what
you want a great deal better than you do.
The very things that you must depre
cate as fatal limitations and obstructions,
are probably what you most want.
What you call hindrances and discour
agements, are probably God's opportun
ities and it is nothing new that the
patient should dislike his medicines, or
any certain proof that they are poisons.—
No! a truce to all such impatience. Choke
that devilish envy which gnaws at your
heart because you are not in the same
lot with others ; bring down your soul,
or rather bring it up to receive God's
will, and do his word, in your lot, in
your sphere, under your cloud of ob
scurity, against your temptations ; and
then you shall find that your condition
is never opposed to your own good, but
really consistent with it.
A Particular Irlshm n.
One of the city colporteurs of Cin
cinnati, some time ago, when engaged
in distributing tracts among the poor
benigted ones about the town, met with
an amusing incident. Coming to an
insolated building of humble preten
sions, he opened the door without the
ceremony of knocking, saying:
"Will you accept a tract of the Holy
Land ?" meaning the four pages of the
letter-press he had in his hand. The
man of the house instantly replied :
"Yes, be jabers; a whole section if
you give a good title; but I'd lik6 to
know if there be much fever'n ague
here to brother a poor divil ?" The
colporteur retreated.
—A country paper once said: "E.
B. Doolittle is in the habit of stealing
pigs and robbing henroosts. If he does
not desist, we shall publish his name."
This is equal to the minister at the
camp meeting Who said, "If the lady
with the blue hat, red hair, and cross
eyes, doesn't stop talking, she will be
pointed out to the congregation.
The loyal State government of Virginia,
which has hitherto had its seat at Alexan
dria, is to be removed next week to Rich
mond, where Governor Pierpont will begin
the reconstruction of civil authority
throughout the Old Dominion county by
county.