She' fitioato tlytitligOer . (..aillßLlslntoArtoicar CW.lvoincinkt - wr fr coidiwr.ili 41 Air It f J. 151fCoanize. ,IL:q!•swzi=i AII7IIED' SdlipBHSON' gciwios, • TERME3 2 —Two Dalian •and .Fifty' Cents per anaWn..:P}Vahle all eases La. advance.: OFFICE--§Oli r.etw.nST OOFZIFF. OF CE TEE SQUAILE . . Vi-Lll -letters -On • business should be ad - -dressed to Coop, Setrannsms dc Co. Titeraq. For the lutielligericer. The 'Non k's Tale. /low the following manuscript came into my hands, itniatters not to enquire. its contents . have seemed to_ me.of so :singular a r ature that I have concluded to present them to the world. I make no comment upon them ; let the story speak for itself. It is as follows : lam a Monk of the orddr of the Capuchins. Age has bent my form, and whitened my hair, yet is my mem •ory perfect, and my mind retains all its powers. In My long experience of life, many strange things have come under my observation, and I hold the secrets of many families hidden in my breast. Among these occurrences is one, of so singular a nature, that it constantly haunts rae. It is before my waking thoughts, it follows me in my dreams. Imparted to me under the seal of con fession, my vow forbids my disclosing it; yet how can I longer hide it within my breast? The senseless paper cannot reveal the tale. I will, therefore, call my pen to my assistancer let it speak for me, and then conceal the AL S. where no human eye ever shall behold it. Then, perhaps, I shall have some rest— perhaps the painful images ever present to my mind may cease to torment me. Late one stormy evening, in the win ter of 17—, our superior entered my cell. ' The Count S . ," he said to me, "is (Icing. He has sent for you, to receive his last confession, and to administer to him the last consolations of our noly Church.'? I bowed my head in silent acquies- Renee, and prepared to obey the sum mons. The Count was well known to me by reputation. Rich, handsome and talented, his early youth had passed like that of all his associates. Married, at an early age, to a young and lovely wife, every pleasure, every enjoyment that life could offer lay , Within his reach.— But a few years passed, and oh! what a change! Death bore away the wifeand mother—his three fair children followed her to the tomb, and the Count—bent under the weight of So many snows, had given up the world and' lived, in his splendid palace, the life of an anchorite. Ali this recurred to me as I slowly made my way, not without considera ble difficulty, for the night was dark and stormy, to the stately mansion where death hovered over his victim. Arriving there at last, I was met by the major-domo, who, without a word, pre ceded me through the long and stately corridors of the palace, till at last, pais ing before a half-open door, he signed to me to enter, and left. I paused for a moment on the thresh old. The room before me offered a singu lar contrast with the rest of the build ing. While every other apartment was furnished with the utmost luxury and splendor, this might have put to shame many a convent cell. The floor was bare ; the windows were uncurtained ; the only furniture was a table, a chair, add a low iron beadstead. At the head of the bed hung a discipline—on the wall opposite was amagniticentcrucifix. I know not why I dwell on these par ticulars. Though years have elapsed since that eventful night, every feature in the scene, every word spoken, is still impressed on my memory with fearful "distinctness. Like a child, who fears to enter a dark closet, I stand at the threshold of these events, and dread to record them. Not such were my feelings that eve ning. It was but an ordinary scene, a simple confession, that I was prepared for. Little did I expect, little did I dream of the tale about to be unfolded to me. Startling as it is, it is true. I dally with my subject. Again I feel the horror of that long and dreary night. Again those slow and painful utterances fall upon my ear. Away, away, let me summon up my courage. No one dreams of this. I still keep my vow, for no one ever shall view these lines traced by my trembling hand. I entered the chamber. Stretched on the low bed lay a man of perhaps fifty. Emaciated and worn by suffering as he was, his form still bore the traces of manly vigor. In his youth he must have been eminently handsome. But his face bore the impress of bitter misery, of long endured anguish ; and I saw that death, which to most men comes .as the destroyer, to him was welcome as a • benevolent spirit. Au old domestic, the only attendant, left the apartment as I entered, and I was alone with the dying man. Making the sign of the cross, I uttered the usual • salutation ; " Peace be with you, my son I" "Peace !" the count slowly repeated— , " -Holy father, you wish 1/1C peace! Oh !" he continued with a groan " peace and I have been strangers for long and dreary years. And life, which I am about to lay down has been a sore burden to me. Would that I had never cursed the earth with my presence ! You look at me with amazement—listen to my Confession, and then tell me if I am wrong when ' I say that I have had a bitter lot to bear, and if there can be forgiveness for one, who, like myself, has been the tool of the spirit of evil." I seated myself by his bed. In low faltering tones, shuddering, trembling, the Count S— poured the following tale into my horrified ear. Not as I shall tell it, for it was often interrupted by bitter groans—by mournful exclama tions—And by the patient's Weakness, which scarcely, at tithes, allowed him to speak ; yet he persevered, until the whole awful history lay before me. " I was," he said, " very wild in my early manhood, yet no worse, perhaps, than many others. Yet my old asso sociates have none of them had to bear the curse which has clouded my ex istence. My prospects were bright— my - sky was clear—how has it been darkened !" "You know my parentage. You know, too, that my wife was my cousin. Married at an early age—she loved me, and, in spite of my bold and careless habits, I adored her. We had three lovely children—the youngest but a babe ; when the fatal events occurred which have rendered me detestable in my own eyes. To no one has the secret of my life ever been revealed. Yet cannot die with its weight upon my suol." " A band of gypsies had established themselves on my estate. They were a 'source of constant annoyance to. me. My game was'destroyed, and my fruit constantly stolen. At last I o'rd'ered the troop oq my lands.' It'was useless, as liot'aii4 left till I added ttle;thyeat that every one found (in the,e4at6shuld be severely beaten,, .' . ll4ey leg me then, but , ,no,o_ppoytunity,ib i c,ipjurkng me and. mine: sailitver•allpwecUo,cscaPe• of thispl gave,aregtiona that • .tbe first. Members of the tribe caught stealing on • .•• - ••• ' i .., ' • • -' . • ' '.' -- - - --- - -17: , ..i. "ill 1; I.; .'11.1.',14. -. 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'• " ' l9 a ' :'' ' ' '' . ' -"' ' . 1- :' ' -- '' -: ' ' ' -: --i-. ri.:.-,. , . • ,:: - - -, - . . - • - • • . • , VOLUICE 66. . . my„, iroperty, should be seized and ilIFPW.ninO Prison.- • "My lOwlY wife urged me ,to adopt, gentler measures." " You know," she said to' nie e Mthat these people are said, to be irtiengiie with the evil Jane. .11)o, not, my husband, proVokethem too far. You may yet suffer for''our impru dence." 'Would that I had listened to her gentle counsels! "At last one of the band was taken in the,act of stealing. As I had hilly resolved, he was committed to prison. His mother forced her way to my pre sence, and demanded his release. This I refused to grant, and she left me, vow ing vengeance should any harm befall her son. "A.,few days later I was told that the prisoner, after vainly attempting to 'es cape, had committed suicide. This made no impression on me ; but that evening, while riding through my woods, the old gypsy woman suddenly stood before me. "Involuntarily I paused. She was directly in the way of my horse, whose bridle she seized. Still do the words she uttered ring in my ear—curses too fatal ly fulfilled, though at the time I deem ed them but the ravings of a disordered imagination." " `Dian of blood! The avenger is oa thy path—thou canst not escape him! The gypsy's curse rests upon thee--the powers of evil shall control thee. And even as my heart is sore—so shall thine be—but caused by thine own deed.— Death hovers over thy dearest ones— death from thee—for as thou didst show us mercy, so shall none be showed unto thee !' " The Count paused. Shudderingly he gazed around—then, while huge drops stood on his forehead, in a hesitating manner he continued the recital. " Little did I dream of the horors in store for me. My return to the castle found my wife and children in their usual health, and the day passed in my ordinary avocations. But that night, it was long ere I could compose myself to sleep. The gipsy's curse, unheeded during my waking hours, occupied my thoughts, and drove slumber from my couch. " At last the clock struck twelve, and as the last stroke died upon the air, I found myself floating above the bed. I felt a sort of double existence. There, clasped in the arms of my wife, lay my living breathing body, yet I was separate from it. I was perfectly conscious—yet rn y will was gone. I was but apaSsive in strument in the hands of the power which controlled me. " I need not enter into particulars. You have heard of those accursed beings who bring death in the train. Such was my fate. In me you see a vampire ! yet an involuntary one. "My adored wife was my victim.— Day after day she faded, slowly, but surely, unconscious of the hand that dealt the blow. My feelings no one can conceive. For a short time every night was I under the control of the Evil one —the rest of the time I was myself." " I sent my children from me, hoping thus to save them. And while the mother lived, they were safe, the de stroyer asked but one victim at a time. My wife died, and, heart-broken, I fol lowed her loved remains to the tomb." " I loathed myself—yet I dared not add suicide to my crimes—even confes sion was denied me.' Who would have given faith to my tale ! Night after night I was compelled to work out my destiny—distance mattered not to, the evil one who possessed me." "My children died. Little did they, who bore the tidings to me, know that they spoke to the wretched cause of their dtwarture. I was now alone in the world. With the death of my children, the curse had passed from me." T I secluded myself from the world. My life since has been passed in prayer and severe penance. Von discipline, now clotted with blood, has chastised the body—who can cleanse the soul? Is there pardon for me—for me—the in voluntary criminal and murderer ?" The Count S— was silent. Eagerly he gazed into my face, as though to read his doom. I was too much horrified at his recital to answer him. But his pleading looks inspired my pity. " I dare not judge you," I said. "There is mercy for all who 'repent." Who can doom his fellow-man?" I held the crucifix in my hand, to wards him. A gleam of joy lighted his features, and he suddenly raised him self, as though to embrace it. The ef fort was tDo great for feeble nature to support, there was a slight convulsion, a long breath—and the Count 8— fell back on his pillow. He was dead! My tale is told. May its painful memories now cease to haunt me ! The Miller's Portrait.. A worthy miller, wishing for a por trait of himself, applied to a painter to have it accomplished. " But," said he, " I am a very induS trious man. I went to be painted as looking out of my mill window ; but, when any one looks at me, I wish to pop my head in so as not to be thought lazy or spending too much time at the window." " Very well," said the painter. "It shall be done so." He painted the mill and the mill win The miller looked at it. " Very well," said he. "But where Is myself looking out ?" "Oh !" said the painter, "whenever any one looks at the you know you pop your head in, of course, to pre serve your credit for industry." " That's right, said the miller. " I'm content—just so. I'm in the mill now, ain't I? Just so—that will do." NIGHT, THE POOR MAR'S FRIEND.- Night levels all artificial distinction.— The beggar on his pallet of straw snores as soundly as a king on a bed of down. Night—kind, gentle, soothing refresh ing night, the earthly paradise of the slave, the sweet oblivion of the worn soul, the nurse of romance, of devotion; how the great panting heart of society yearns for the return of night and rest! Sleep is God's special gift to the poor; for the great there is no time fixed for repose. Quiet, they have none; and, instead calmly awaiting the approach of events they fret and repine, and starve sleep and chide the tardy hours, as if every to-morrow were big with the fateofsome great hereafter. The torrent of events goes roaring past, keeping eager expectation. constantly .on tiptoe, and drives timid 'dumber away. —A Member of the Lazy Society was complained . of last' week, by another,' for running. his defence was, that. he Was going down hill, and it was mare labor to walk than to run. He was 'let off easy. S —ln the "Life of Wilberfore," is the followitig entry in his : ,aliyent to' hear i4r.„Voste., ; FeA,inuch,d,evotion, .4 , PANY. O .44PrP4titA n lm4 . '4l l 4 l oPAxn, the_ priallngi,llAuging:l4.l Ferman, : 1 000 to sleep myself." A Terrible ROyenge . . Of cur'plessitrit pOty at the Elmslast Christmas, Kate O'Hara was the beauty r far away,: T remember our little silence of:admiration as she came into the draw ;#l,g:.room just before dinner was an nounced, (for your prima donna does not care to enter until the housois full),. and the great sensation her arrival made, though she could not have ap proached more quietly or meekly if she had been the cat. Half-a=dozen young ladies who, before her advent looked pretty enough, suddenly became quite uninteresting to a corresponding num ber of bachelors, and even we married' gentlemen paused awhile in our talk of short-horns to steal an admiringglance. We had resumed our bovine conversa tion, and were diverging, if I remem ber aright, in, the direction of the Prince Consort's pigs, when my wife came up to me and whispered : " That's little Kate O'Hara!" Why did my cheek glow and my heart throb? Why did the name of one whom I had not seen since she was a little child recall at once the crown ing happiness and chief confusion of my life? It shall be told, terribly, anon. The six bachelors " entered them selves" immediately for " the O'Hara stakes," as one of them was subsequently pleased to designate the dreaming of Love's young dream : and two of them —a middy and an under-graduate—got the start, and made the running at the most reckless pace I ever saw. Indeed, the sailor proposed on the third evening and was declined with such good-natur ed• cheerfulness that he seemed to be rather pleased than otherwise ; where as the collegian, who was of a poetical turn, took his refusal, the day following very seriously to heart, and passed the remaining part of his visit in sorrow and the shrubberries. Two other com petitors; unattached, (except to Kate,) were disposed of at an archery ball ; and the race then lay between Charley Northcote, captain of hussars, and. Philip Lee, curate. It was a grand set-to—" hands up," I can tell you. If Charley had the hand somest face, and—playing with a bullet pendent from his watch-chain, but which previously had resided in his leg —could talk of the time " when I was in the Crimea," Philip had the more in tellectual expression, and had won at Oxford the under-graduate's " blue rib bon"—the Newdegate prize for English verse. Charley, it is true, when we were skating on the lake, produced upon the ice such wondrous " eagles" as Audu bon never dreamed of, but he was, on the other hand, the first to own, when the frost broke op, that, " in a really good thing with hounds, there was but one of them could catch the parson."— For Philip, though he did not hunt in his own parish, could " go like a bird" out of it, whenever he could get amount. On the night before our party sepa rated we had a grand performance of charades, and in the last of these the Reverend Mr. Lee had won immense as a ferociouscaptain of banditta, acting with the greatest enthusiasm, and hav ing composed for himself, with the co operation of a cork, a pair of mustaches which rivaled Charley's. We were to appear at supper iu our charade cos tumes, and were waiting the announce ment of that refection, when I noticed an extraordinary phenomenon, which caused me instantly and earnestly to whisper to Miss O'Hara, "I have some thing to say to you. Come at once." We passed unnoticed from the, crowd ed drawing-room into the library, still littered with our theatrical properties. Seizing a dagger, and assuming a char , acteristic scowl (I was attired as a brigand's assistant), I bade her " Lis ten!" And she (I see her now 'in her pretty hat and cloak, for she had repre sented in our last scene the the young English countess stopped by the rob bers), ever ready for burlesque and mirth—as she supposed all this to be— made answer, solemnly : "Say on !" "Twelve years ago, Catherine O'Hara, I wooed and won in the home of your childhood the lady who is now my wife. On a sweet summer's eve I told my love, sitting under an acacia, and upon a garden seat the property of your re spected sire. Hard by, you, then a little child, were swinging in a swing. Those same long silken Irish lashes never dreamed that you took note of us, sealing, in the usual manner, our vows of mutual love.' Judge then, how in tense our agony, how complete and aw- ful our abasement, when, as we rejoined the festive throng for coffee, you cried aloud for all to hear : "Oh, mamma! those two did so kiss each other, when I was swinging in the elm 1" " For twelve years, Kate O'Hara, the memory of that h umiliation has troubled my indignat soul; but, at last I am avenged—look here !" I held before her one of the hand looking-glasses which lay on the table near, and she was preparing to say something in the dramatic style, as she snatched it from me with the proud air of a tragedy queen, when her eye caught he reflection of her 'face, and in a moment that fair countenance was blanched and pale, and she stood, with her head drooping, speechless. For upon her lip, reader, she saw, as I had seen, the certain sign and trace that, in some obscure corner behind the scenes, the race had licer, decided for the " 0' Kara Stakes," andthca the Brigand Lee had won. He had left half his cork mustache on that lovely lip. "Kate," I said, "you cannot be vexed with me, for I congratulate you with all my heart. May you be as happy, dear girl, with our friend the robber, as those two' have been happy, whom you saw 'so kissing one another' from beneath those silken lashes, as you sat swinging in the elm!" Affairs in North Carolina Considerable consternation was taus.,: ed among the planters of North Caroli na by the publication of the order of General Schofield, commanding the national troops in that State, announc ing the freedom of all the colored peo ple, in accordance with President Lin coln's emancipation proclamation. The people feared that the able bodied' col ored males would immediately desert the plantations, putting.a stop to agri cultural operations and leaving the female and decrepit negrOes dependent on their late masters, who would thds, be rendered completely' linable to pro vide for their support: ' These appre hensions were at first to 'some extent realized, but on the arrival of General Cox, with the Twenty-third army, corps;, at Greensboro, he soon put a stop to the, social disorganization in the surround ing country, r, Capplatig the ncg,roes to. return to their:labor, awl iirbatuung the people prOtO4tio4. It. is stated that Hon. John A. Giliner lies diVided 'up 'his larida'anning' fortiter sbW6s, and; 'furnished' thbnciatilities kir • 'werktng theSni, and , that Mr, Gilmer's , ertMaptei .!hei nuinarOusi North Carolina planters. 1 4:NOWATI, PA T :W_EDNMpAY MOIINUi - G, MAY 24, 1865. Marriage by Capture. A: work has; lately been"published at • Edinburgh on • Prixrdtive • Marriage,. making:inquiry' into the orighi of the. foirrf Of capture marriage:eereiciiinies. In a review of this book, the LondOn Athenceum gives an -- inteiesting s mary showing the extent to which ttie practice has prevalled;and the antiquity which it can claim : It is a singular fact that the brute who sells, or ratherwho used to sell, his wife, at Tair or in market place, and the bride on whose fair' fingers is placed the gold en link which binds her to her lord, are alike preservers and followers of the pri mitive customs connected with mar riage. The brute, in one place, and the bride in another, symbolize the ancient spirit of wooing and wedding, which made of the wife the legal captiveof her husband. In our very terms the ancient form of capture is, perhaps, to belraced. A man speaks of "taking a wife," but a woman never remarks that she is "taking a husband." The term " best man" is used ia Nor way in the same sense as it is used with us ; but it there originally implied the friend of the bridegroom who had the strongest arm, and who could most ef fectually wield the heaviest weapon against ail assailants who might at tempt to recapture the bride. It is even suggested that the throwing an old shoe after the wedded couple as they depart from the lady's old home is not as it is now interpreted, for luck, but a remnant of a marriage ceremony .of olden times,' when the inhabitants of the district from which the bride was taken, flung missiles at the husband, in order to cause him to desist from carry ing off their sister or friend. The latter ceremony—for it is now only a mere, but still a lively, ceremony--is common among some of the hill.people of Hin dostan ; among others,, a thread cast round the neck is of equal signifteande to a bride with the ring which the bridegroom daintily passes over the finger, which, pretty but groundless legend tells us, has some mysterious nervous connection with the:heart. Kalmuck wooers must still first catch their brides before they. can adorn their homes with wives; and after the damsel allows herself to be caught, and the marriage is solemnized, the -symbol of capture is maintained by her being lifted on horseback, apparently against her will, just as the North Friesland " bride-lifter" hoists the bride and her maids upon the wagon which is to take its way to the new home. Throughout every portion of the globe. Mr. McLennan tin& proofs, more l i or less striking, of the pkimitive form of marriage'by capture. We know that William the Conqurer very roughly wooed Matilda, of Flanders, by knock ing her down ' • and some Australasian savages at this day follow the same form of taking. possession, or Andicating mastership. " When an Australasian sees a woman whom he likes, he tells her to follow him, and when she refuses, he forces her to accompany him by blows, ending by knocking her down . and carrying her off" In primitive times, when it was (as it often is now) unlawful for a man to marry within his tribe—all of one tribe being considered as consanguineous, though such consideration was syste matically violated in other tribes—the warlike bachelors made war against strange tribes, which were once, per haps, akin to them, and carried off the freight which they most coveted. Now and then tumultuous love and very fierce cannibalism went together, and savages carried their spouses home, after eating the ladies' fathers. When a little hard pressed by appetite, the gentlemen would occasionally eat' the ladies themselves. In a thousand classical stories the symbol of capture presents itself. Plu to crepts Proserpine, and Boreas cap tures the Oritliyia whom he loves. Even the Mosaic code, by which unions between Jew and Gentile girls were prohibited, allowed the successful He brew victor to marry women of any for eign tribe that had succumbed to He brew arms. In the famous case in " Tristram Shandy," the courts of law decided that the Duchess of Suffold was not akin to her own son. My uncle Tobx could not help thinking that there mutt have been some blood relationship between mother and child, but the defunct Duke's sister was pronounced heir to her brother. What here seems a good joke was sober earnest in another way of affinity, among tribes where polyan dry was the practice, and one was the wife of half a dozen husbands, who were in some districts, not related ; in others (more " respectable,") they were all brothers. In these households, the paternity being lancertain, there was no recognized relationship between father and children. In these tribes, when a pater-familias died it was his sister and her children, not his wife and her off spring, who were his heirs. In a ma jority of such tribes—in those once ex isting, for instance, in North America —the children were always looked upon as belonging to the tribe of the mother. The Mysteries of Iron There is no miracle recorded in the annals of any religion more mysterious, more incomprehensible, more incon ceivable, than some of the well-known properties of the simple metal, iron. Consider, for instance, its change from its ordinary to its passive state. If a piece of the metal in its ordinary con dition is immersed in nitric acid, it is powerfully acted upon, entering into combination with the acid and losing its metallic form. But if a piece of pla tinum wire has one end inserted in the acid, and the iron is then immersed in contact with the wire, it is so changed that the acid has no power upon it, and this condition continues after the pla tinum wire has been withdrawn. The contact of a single point with the pla tinum sends a transformation all through its particles, which renders them in vulnerable to the attacks of the most powerful acid. Even more wonderful is its change under the influence of a current of elec tricity. When a bar of pure, soft iron is welded with an insulated wire and a current of electricity is sent through the wire, the bar is instantly converted into a magnet. It is endowed with an un seen force, which stretches out from its ends, and seizes any piece of iron within its reach, draws it to itself, and holds it hi its invincible grasp. The object of insulating the wire is to prevent the electricity from leaving it, and yet through this insulating coat a power is exerted which changes so strangely the nature ot the 'iron, en abling it to act . on substances with .which it is not in contact. As soon as the circling current ceases, the iron be comes like Sampson shorn,of its locks, its miraculous: power has departed., No less mysterious than either of these is the more familiar phenomenon of the fall of a piece of iron to the ground, un der the simple action of gravitation.— What is' that inVisible force which reaches out in all directions from the earth and clutches all Matter in its grasp ? The fibres of this power are impercepti ble to any of eur senses. If we pass our hands under a, suspended, rock, we can feel nothing, reaching from it to the earth, yet there is something stretching up "from the earth, taking • hold of the dririiiing doWn with the strenglli cif'a hundroicables ' walk ' • dnvelool in mysteries; and'" onr dill" life isOrapie.)) week Omni littk.girla,. aged•. , redpeelivelyedirenandtwelve, iltep-ohildste. lientyalletriard; 2sfl 'larniltoni town, Jethip, Adams comity, mire drpirned tin the Great Couewago. or4l4lpw. r .tictuteniie Comparison*: ot.Tligipla or: - " Old and Noly. . , We,clip from Eraser's -Magazine the following picturesque comparison be . tWeen - the Virginia of the olden time, and the Virginia.of to-day._ The- point . about the skylark is both' poetic , and . truthful: About sixteen years ago, as I was wandering through the beautiful mead ows that slope to the Rap)aahannoOk river, beside FalniOuth and-Fredericks burg, in the State of Virginia, there -started up before me, soaring and sing ing, a bird entirely different from any that I had ever seen heard there be fore. I afterward learned that the old colonial Governor, SpottsWood, who had resided there, and after whom the county was named Spotisylvania, bad imported a large number of English skylarks, with the hope that they too might be colonized. But the experi ment did not succeed. There are only traditions of the few and far between visits of these little angels, of which I . cherish the belief that I witnessed one. The song which then 'arrested my at tention only by its novelty and sweet ness, has gathered, in the years that have passed since then, a plaintive and almost mystic quality. As I recall it now it sings much that as a boy I could not understand of a generation of true gentlemen and gen tlewomen, long ago past and buried, with fewer representatives left than of the skylarks they brought with them, and which only lived to sing their re quiem. Little did I dream then that where this melody alone startled the summer air, the shrieking shell and hurtling cannon ball were soon to bring ,their horrible music ; that,those,silver Waters were to redden with ti load of.the Young companions with whom I played on its banks ; that the homes I had known so full of joy were in:a fewyears to become charred and desolate monu ments of the devastation and sorrows of war—still more warnings of that wrong which Nemesis, with wheel and rudder, evermore tracketh by land and sea, whatever bend and break. Music pierces the air to a greater distance than tenfold its amount of mere noise. For the present I distinguish my little song ster's theme of the olden time, and hear it as finely linked to the time now so swiftly passing away. To record some impressions of the past, and trace some traits of the present, ere it also shall be completely buried, is the aim of this paper. . . Virginia first appears in history as the fair frame about two noble figures— Captain John Smith and the Indian Princess Pocahontas. Their story is one of the few poetic traditions with which histories so invariably'open that are true. Pocahontas certainly did rush forward and clasp the head of the prostrate young English Captain, ou which the tomahawk was about to de scend in execution of her father's com mand. The stern heart of Powhattan was touched by this act of his child— she was but little over thirteen years of age at this time—and he consented that his captive should live to make toma hawks for himself and beadS and bells for Pocahontas. Afterward the Indian king agreed to let Smith return to Jamestown on condition of his sending him two guns and a grindstone. When, soon after, Jamestown with all its stores was destroyed by fire, and the colonists were perishing of cold and hunger, half of them were saved by the arrival of Pocahontas with bread, raccoons, and venison. It was about two years after Captain Smith's life had been saved by Pocahontas that he came, from explor ing a large portion of the colony, to rest at Werowomoco, where King Powhat tan and his daughter resided. The king, being absent, was sent for ,• and mean time Pocahontas, who, though well grown, was not yet sixteenyears of age, called together a number of Indian maid ens to arrange with he'r a dramatic en tertainment for the handsome young , Englishman and his attendants. "They made a fire on a level field, and Smith sat on a mat before it. A hideous noise and shrieking were suddenly heard in the adjoining woods." The English snatched up their arms. Pocahontas rushed forward and asked, Smith to slay rather than suspect her of perfidy, and their apprehensions were quieted. Then thirty young women ran out from the woods all naked, except a cincture Of green leaves. -Pocahontas wore on her head a beauti ful pair of buck's horns, an otter skin at her girdle, and another on her arm; a quiver hung on her shoulder, and she held a bow and arrow in her hand. The other nymphs had antlers on their heads and various savage decorations. Bursting from the forest they circled around John Smith and the fire, sing ing and dancing for an hour. They then disappeared in the woods. When they reappeared it was to invite Smith to their habitations, where they circled around him again, dancing and cuing "Love you not me ?" They then feasted him richly; and lastly, with pine-knot torches, escorted him to his lodging. This Captain John Smith was, without doubt, an imperial kind of man, and there is no wonder nor no doubt that the Indian maiden felt already tender palpitations on his account. A far different night was that which, at a later period, found Pocahontas spend ing the whole of a dark night climbing hills, toiling through thickets, to reach the tents of Smith and his companions, to warn them of the decree of death which Powhattan, under some misun derstanding, bad issued. Smith at this, time offered her many beautiful pre sents, but, as he himself wrote, "with' the tares running down her cheeks, she said she durst not be seen to have any; for if Povv.hattan should know it she were but dead ; and so she ran aWay by herself as she came," Some two. years later Smith returned to England. The Indian princess was induced to marry John Rolfe by being told that Smith was 'dead. After being baptized—as one may see in Chapman's huge picture of that event in the ro tunda of the Capitol at Washington— she was taken to EnglandasMrs. Rolfe. At Brentford, where she was staying, Captain Smith visited her. She uttered no word on seeing him, but, after a modest salutation, turned away and hid her face. She remained thus motion less for nearly two hours. She then came forward to Smith, and touchingly ' reminded him, in the presence of her husband and a large company, of the kindness she had shown him in her own country. "You did promise Powhat tan," she said, "what wasyoursshould' be his and he the like to you. You called him 'father, being in his land a stranger, and for the same reason so I must call you." After a long pause and much emotion she said: " I will dall you father, and you shall call me chi/c4 , and so I will be forever and ever your cousrywoman Then slowly, and not without some indignant flashing from her great dark eyes : " They did tell us always you were dead, and I knew no other till I came, to Plymouth. Yet Powhattan did command Uttamattom kin to seek you and know the truth, be cause your countrymen will lie much." Our colonial angel died soon afterward, in 1617, leaving one child, MOS. 'Rolfe, through whom must have come that enormous number of aristocratic Virgin ian families who claim to be the descend. , ants of Pocahontas—a more honorable descent, by the way, in Virginia, than 'any . traceable from the noblest ancester that -ever "came over with the Con qUeror." THE NAVAL ACADEM.Y.—There is no longer reason to doubt butthat the Unit ted' States Naval Academy will be re-. established in . its old quarters at An-, napolis, Maryland. Although Newport has - a splendid harbor, yet the quarters ,aad , the acconntodatione.for professont and midshtpmen are so cramped for room , that ithas'Awaysbeeniconsidered atserious objectionito Itilibinitig-at that phiee longer than absolutely inecessary i lae.lieMutelat ha, sueeted suitable buildings for the use of the stn. dente. The Way to Lay Out an Orchatd. If the- proper method is adopted !t, takes iless time and labor to set the trees of an orchard in perfectly straight roWs, both ways, than-it does to set - then:6l.lx , very crooked rows by the' ordinsiy method of looking backward to get ha rarge with the trees already set. The -writer of this has set many orchards and has finally adopted the following per: After the ground is plowed and har rowed, rows of small, straight stakes or pins are first insetted in the ground, not precisely in the positions to be occupied by the trees, but all on one side, say the west side for instance, in Order that the holes may be dug andthe trees set without disturbing the stakes. The best way to get the position for the pins is to stretch a stout twine across the field, and then measure along this line from one pin to the next with a wooden pole of a length equal to the distance between the trees. A canefish pole makes the best measuring rod, and next to this a slender white pine sapling, cut green and seasoned under cover. The pins should be straight. twigs 8 or 10 inches in length and about a quarter of an inch in diameter; they may be cut from hazel or any other bush that grows straight. First stretch the twine across the east side of the field, two and a half feet west of the line where it is desired to have the first row of trees. Seta pin in, the place for the rfarth row of trees, and measure along the twine with the rod, sticking a pin into the ground at each rod's length. Then lay offright angles from the extreme north and south pins, stretch the line and measure as before, leaving the pins standing, to the place for the west row of pins; stretch the line between these, and complete the measurement around the orchard. Fi nally stretch the line along the several north-and-south rows, and beginning at the north side measure along the line setting a pin for each tree. We shall thus have the ground marked out in squares with the pins all standing two and a half feet west of the positions to be occupied by the trees. Now dig the holes on the east side of the trees, with the center of each hole about two and a half feet east of a pin. The holes should have vertical sides and flat bottoms, and should be suffi ciently large to receive the roots in their `natural position without bending. Pro vide a straight wand two and a half feet : in length, and placing one end of it against the pin, set the tree opposite the other end, ranging with the stakes to the west, and disregarding those to the north and south as the rows that way will take care of themselves. Pour two pailfuls of water into the hole, and sift in fine dirt from a shovel till the hole, is filled. If the orchard is large so as to require a long line, a little art is required to draw the line straight. The stake at one end is firmly inserted in the earth, when a man by taking hold of the opposite end and shaking it Vertically up and down, at the same time pulling upon it about as hard as its strength will bear, can very quickly whip it into a straight position; a few sods or stones may then be laid upon it at intervals to hold it in place. in measuring, oue man lays the rod along thesline with its heavier end just opposite the pin already set, and another inserts a pin opposite the ,smaller end just one side of the line. The man who sets the pins should first stand astride of the line and Insert the pin, and should then step around so as to face the line at right angles, setting the pin the second time if it should be found not to stand in a vertical position pre cisely opposite the end of the pole. It may seem at first that this plan would be more laborious than the ordi nary method of ranging, but in practice it will be found easier — and more expe ditious, as the work moves steadily forward without interruption or delay. We once planted an orchard of three acres with small peach trees by this method, and looking at the rows either directly or diagonally not a tree could be seen a single half inch out of line. Strange Burial Customs in Sicily In Sicily, churchyards are unknown. The corpses are placed in layers in the vaults of churches without a coffin, and when decomposition performs its work, the remains of the poor are piled together in a corner, and sometimes walled in ; but those who can afford it have their remains placed in a niche in a special apartment, called the Cham ber of Death, where for a long time the hideous relics of humanity may be ,seen by the curious. It is a large hall `on the ground-floor, lighted by a large window, like that of an artist's studio. All round there are niches like sentry boxes let into the wall ; they are about six feet high, and the bottom is level with the floor. The corpses, blackened by decomposition, are frightful to look at; they are kept generally in a stand ing position by a rope round their necks, and their naked, fleshless feet rest on tile floor; but, as the ropes are not uni formly tightened, the attitudes are all different; some leaning forward with their heads outside the niche, as though about to advance into the centre of the room. All have a paper label fast ened on their breast, couched thus : " I am so-and-so ; haVe a mass said for me, for mercy's sake."— In one of the niches is the corpse, of a young man, in a Zouave's uniform ; he is fastened round the waist, so that the body is bent in two, the head down and the hands forward, which gives him the appearance of looking for something on the floor. There are also a few, only a few, glass coffins ; in one of them is a gentleman wearing a chimney-pot hat, much too large for what is left of his head. A few wooden coffins from a strange contrast with the ghastly exhi bition all around. They contain the re mains of lathes, this barbarous fashion at poste mortem display stopping short /15f the fair sex. SEED Coax.—A Western farmer thinks the selection of seed corn a very important matter. In case of neglect to lay aside the best ears in the fall, he says the best must be culled from the crib. These are the long ears, with large kernehiand small cobs. Let every ear be broken before shelling. If the pith and cob be bright, the seed will vegetate; if they appear to have ibeen water-soaked, and are dark colored and somewhat mouldy, the vitality of the germ has been Injured, if not entirely destroyed. Then cut off an_inch of the butt and tip of the ear, and throw them 'away, for they will produce,- if planted, small; , irregular corn, as expertdients have proved. Only the middle kElrnels of sound and - fair ears slionldbe . . Sectetary Stanton has ordered! 4E44 Davis placed on a gunboat and bipught . directly to Washington. NUMBER 20. The ,True While a few:madmen are calling for a vindictive policy, and -demanding that the.Reople of the South shall be treated with‘exPreme rigor, every and right:thinking man in thecountry must deprecate such a course. It can only result in great and permanent injury to the nation. Well does the Louisville. Journca, a newspaper which knows the South 'and its people well, and which has been true to the Union from the be ginning, say : " The past cannot now be changed. All that now remains for us is to forget it, and to ;remember that "to err is huinan." We mustlive together as one great political and commercial commu nity. We can get up and keep up angry disputes,' resulting in collisions, and thus bring upon ourselves much misery, retarding the return of prosperity and a real peace, or we can, by ignoring past differences and pursuing a conciliatory course, form a great brotherhood of na tionality and good will that cannot fail to benefit materially, and to bless in every sense the whole country, North and South. This must be so evident to the dullest intellect that it seems almost like, a waste of time to urge it, and yet we fenr that the vast importance of such a line of conduct both on the part of the Goi ernment and of the people is scarcel:v appreciated as it should be. Old party hacks will seek to foment discord when ever they think they can reap any ad vantage from it, and unless the people sternly rebuke them they may be able to do much mischief. The inquiry should be not, What were your party of or views or actions? but, What are you willing to do now? Are you willing to forget the past, and to do all that possibly lies within your power to heal its dissensions, to restore order, to obey the laws, to promote the good of the country and the quiet and loyalty of your State, and the speedy extension of the authority of the Government , over every foot of territory of the United States ? Let us not amuse ourselves or delude ourselves with the idea that the work before us is light and trivial, and that it will prove a comparatively easy task to accomplish it now that the armed power of the revolt has been broken. If we do, we shall pay dearly for our folly. What De Quincey says of the sorrows or convulsions of individual minds is applicable upon a grander scale to those of nations. "Minds," says he, "that are impassioned on a more colossal scale than ordinary, deeper in their vibra tions, and more extensive in the scale of their vibrations, whether, in the other parts of their intellectual system, they had or had not a corresponding compass, will tremble to greater depths from a fea.rful convulsion, and will come round by a large curve of undulations." Whether we contemplate the im mense area of the country to be paci fied; the sanguinary conflict through which it has just past ; the ferocity and deadly hate which have thereby been engendered ; the extent, the nature, and the variety of the interests to be taken into consideration ; the numbers, intelligence and bravery of the people with whom we have to deal, and with whom we are to live as fellow-citizens, or the length of the angry period of heated debate which preceded the out burst of the tremendous storm— whether, we say, we contemplate one or all of these circumstances which bear directly and powerfully upon the question of pacification, we must be convinced, if we are capable of com prehending it, of the vastness and diffi culty of the work before us, and of the wisdom, judgment, and skill requisite to effect it. The length of time this will take de pends upon the policy that may be pur sued and the spirit that shall be mani fested. The Southern people, like other people, have their excellencies and their defects. They are excitable, brave and generous. No people in the world are more open to the power of kindness or can be influenced more strongly by an exhibition of it. A large majority of them hated the whole scheme of an at tempt at Disunion and the setting up of an independent government, and they have only to be dealt with in a magnan imous spirit to wheel into line with all the enthusiasm of their warm and im pulsive natures as true, zealous and loyal citizens of the United States. If, however, in an evil moment, a different theory is adopted ; if a taunting illiberal spirit is indulged in toward them ; if the effortbe made to keep ever before their minds the idea that they are a subjugated people ; if they shall be treated with rigor upon the ground that " they have no rights which the Government is bound to respect"—and this is the jargon of some fanatics—we may expect to see the consequences of this unhappy strife stretch themselves away interminably into the dim, dark gloom of the future. But we anticipate no such policy, and therefore' no such consequences. We look for better, brighter prospects. We hope to see every possible effort made to reconcile and to heal, to act nobly and generously, to bury the tomahawk and to bring out the calumet of Peace. Such a policy will be worthy of a great and victorious Government, and such results, of a new hallelujah filling all our heavens with its harmonies and all hearts with its raptures. Then indeed may we join again in the old chorus of "glory to God in the heighest; on earth peace ; good will to man." Practical Amalgamation The new teachings of the Abolition ists that a negro is the equal of the white man, is having rather a practical effect in the lower end of the county. In one of the townships the population has been increased by the birth of two fine healthy mulatto children. A cer tain farmer, said to be extremely "loyal," some months ago employed two servants, a white girl and black man. They were taught the doctrine of equality, obliged to eat at the same table, and were otherwise treated as "equal before the law." The conse quence was an " accident" happened, and the white girl became the mother of a bouncing young "American citizen of African descent." The father and mother were sent away, and another brace of servants was obtained. This time the man was white and the girl black. Things moved on in the old way, and under the same doctrine of equality of the races, the same accident repeated itself in a few months, and another member was added to the house hold of the " loyal " farmer, of molasses and water complexion. What else can we expect under the present teachings of the forum and pulpit? The loyal farmer ought to be made to support both babies.—Doylestown Democrat. Difficulty Between Sherman and HaHeck The New York Herald of Saturday has a special despatch from Richmond, which says : Late in the night of the .10th instant some difficulty sprung up between Maj. Gen. William T. Sherman, command ing the Military Division of. the Missis sippi, who had arrived in Manchester, and Major General Henry W. Halleck, commanding the Military Division of the James. The rupture between the two generals, it is understoed, grows out of General Halleck's order counter manding the orders of Sherman to his subordinate commanders during the truce - with Johnston. General Sherman wrote General Halleck yesterday, it is said, stating that in future all inter course, of whatever nature, between them was forever at an end. The difference between Generals 1 Sherman and Halleck resulted in wholly doing away with the review of the Army of Georgia, announced in or ders, and the prospective review of the- Army of Tennessee, which was to for= low. General Sherman peremptorily zefnsed to consent to the conditions oc the, review made public, and the con, sequence' was that all the plans in this re- IstiottwerenotOarried out,andthe trbOps and the . populace :were alikedizappoltit i The argdea in question imAceeded quietly through the city - of Richmond. F • wi41131111.0F41) •a:1 J 1. -ADVERlrilitrinrirma._lll2 7141. guar° of tearlinesenitlitireallin frattiamta of 4 REAL Evers., , P=sozrei,P3.ol, d 4:113 " MULL AlMarrisrerG, 7 -cente-o the link and 4 - • tents for cao4 P'ainurrr Miiit • nitnus and oillor_aooo ll. bl, the One column, 1 Hall coltunzt,l Third oolumn„L Quarter column, ..... 80, Busnauis Mans, or ten Mims ot/east Btu:arms Cards , flve li n esor iego, year,. Executors' notinea „ „„, --- Administrators' notices, ..... 2.00 tartea' notices,... 1,60 2.00 tors' notices, Oilier "Notices." ten ithea. dr leaai three times, __ Items of News. Gen. Haßeek has offered a reward of $25,000 for the arrest of rittra-Billy Smith, " Rebel Governor of Virginia. The Galveston News says that the corn crop is good, but that the sugar crop will be very short. At New Orleans the holders of cotton was demanding an advance, and ex change on New York was a half per cent premium. The President is said to be engaged on an Amnesty Proclamation. —The Raleigh Standard calls upon the Government to offer a reward of r-5,000 for Vance, the Rebel ;Governor, and thinks i would go very far toward finishing the Re hellion in that State. The steamer Martin Wolf was robbed of $lB,OOO in money, and $20,000 worth of goods, by guerrillas, at Moine,sLandbq on Mississippi, on Saturday week, -- The rebel pirate Shenandoah sailed from Melbourne on Feb. 15. It is thought to be her intention to cruise along the Paci fic coast. —The curs on theremisAvania Railroad have been prepared for the accommodation of the traveling mail agents, and that the system, so far us this road is concerned, will be in operation in a very few days. T.o conduct the workings of the system, ex perts have been taken from the principal Post Offices in the State. —George D. Prentice, of The Louisville Journal, is lying very sick at the St. Cloud Hotel, Nashville. Clarence D. Prentice, his son, lately a rebel officer, has taken the oath of allegiance to the Federal Government. The news of the capture of Jeff. Davis -was received in Richmond by the old resi dents and the rebellion sympathizers with tibia greatest astonishment and the deepest st.use of the humiliation of their traitorous cscuse. —The rebel General Early, it is said, died recently at Lynchburg. Previous accounts bad left him there suffering from rheuma tism in the stomach. President Johnson has recently had his life insured for $lO,OOO. His late illness atrosefrouti vertigo, to which he has always been sabject. Isaac N. Arnold, member of Congress from Illinois, is said to be preparing an ac count of President Lincoln's life and ad ministration. —So successfully does the money order office work that it is to be greatly enlarged. One hundred and thirty-nine offices were established on the first of November last. On the first of June 280 more will be estab lished. The amount of money orders is sued last quarter was $588,462 on which . Government received about $5,000, There are about .W,OOO constantly lying an the hands of postmasters, subject to cull. it seems lo be well understood that Jeff' Davis will.net be tried before a military commission, but before the United States District Court ,here, on the charge of high The advance of Gen. Sherman's army reached Alexandria yesterday afternoon. Gen. Sheridan's cavalry are encamped a short distance from the Long bridge, on the Virginia side. —According to an order of the War De partment, the Adjutant General has been directed to commence mustering honorably out of service all general, field and staff of ficers who are unemployed; ,or whose ser vice is no longer needed. —Brown, alias Hargrave, one of the bur glars who robbed the banking-house of WilliamsZL Co., at Pittsburg, on the 2d of April, has been arrested at Toronto. Two accomplices of his escaped, but hopes are entertained of securing them also. —At 13edtel, Ct., the tornado on Thurs day evening threw down the steeple of the Congregational Church, completely wreck ing the entire edifice. Loss about $5,000. —The James River Canal has been open ed as far us Columbia, Va. —The telegraph between Memphis and Mobile lacks only 50 miles of completion. —Persons at Memphis rejoicing over the death of President Lincoln have been sen tenced to one year's hard labor. The glory has entirely departed from that little pesthole ofthe Bahamas, Nassau, since the close of the blockade running bu siness. Every body who can get away is leaving, goods intended to run the blockade are daily being auctioned off at merely nyminal prices, and the principal hotel of the place has closed for want of business.— Eight former blockade running steamers were laid up there on the 7th inst., entirely out of employment. —ln the Perrin case on Saturday Mr. Corwin entered a plea for the defense that he military power has no jurisdiction, now that the war is over. The court overruled the plea. The Supreme Court of Michigan on Saturday decided in favor of the power of Congress to make Treasury notes a legal tender. A meeting of bankers In Crawford Venango and Lawrence counties was held in Meadville, on Tuesday of last week, at which it was unanimously agreed to receive no more notes of State banks on deposit after the 20th inst., unless at a discount of one per cent—the issue of Pittsburg banks being specially excepted. Wm. C. Curry, of the 2d National Bank, was present, and consented to the agreement. It is hoped by this course to drive out of circulation all the old bank notes, in the western part of the State, and make greenbacks and national currency the sole circulating mepum. The crews of the Rebel rams and other steamers which escaped up the Tombigbee river, have all deserted. News from De mopolis says that Maury's rebel cavalry are perpetrating horrible cruelties among the people there, hanging and shooting them for expressing the slightest sympathy with Union Sentiment. Gen. Grant was before the Committee on the Conduct of the War on Wednesday, to give evidence in relation to the negotia tions between Generals Sherman and John ston. Gen. Sherman will appegr before the same Committee on Saturday. Gen. Solomon Meredith has been re moved from his command at Paducah. Prominent Kentuckians demanded this, asserting that General Meredith's policy savors so strongly of Rebel sympathy that neither life nor property in that Military District are safe from rebel guerrillas, while Union men are selling their property and leaving the country because they can have no military protection. --Harriet Hosmer's bronze statue of Col. Benton has arrived in St. Louis, and will be publicly inaugurated at an early day. The Legislature of Missouri appropriated $2,500 for this statue, in 1860, ar}d the re maining sum needed for the work was sub scribed by individuals. —Gen. Howard has been placed at the head of the Freedmen's Bureau at Wash ington. The Oil City Register says turare chance is now offered to parties wishing to secure leases of land in the oil regions of that sec tion. Thousands of acres of supposed oil land is offered to parties who are willing to develop it, without any bonds being requir ed. The cost of putting clown a test well, the 13egister estimates at from $7,000 to $8,0004 andithe Slute machinery, if properly cared :for, can be used in boring a half dozen wells. . Petroleum. Center, .. - yenango county, has been "known to fame about a year, and the first house is SearCe4 linishe4—but they are tattrin 'of a national bank:there.— We should - say that is a regular Young America town. " -`' • • .
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers