Sim Pouter &Willmar,
PUBLISIEEED EVEILY WEDNESDAY BY
COOPER, SARIDEREON & CO.
J. M. Coopire,
H. 0 Sairrn,
Wm. A. MORTON, ALFRED SAADERSON
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The 311111 n the Sea.
In olden times there once lived two
brothers, one of whom was rich and the
other poor. When Christmas was near
at hand, the poor one had not so pinch
as a bit of meat or a crust of bread in the
house, so he went to his brother and
begged him in God's name, to give him
something. Now, it happened that this
was not the first time that the. rich
brother had given to the poor one some
thing, and he was not particularly de
lighted when he saw him coming.
"If you do as I tell you," said he to
the unwelcome visitor, "you shall have
a whole ham that is hanging up to be
smoked."
The poor brother said he would do
what he told him, and thank him too.
" There it is," said the rich brother,
flinging him the ham, " and now go to
the infernal regions."
- - - - -
" Since I have promised it, I must,"
observed the other, taking up his ham
and going his way.
After wandering about the_ whole day,
just as it grew dark he perceived a
bright light at no great distance from
him.
"It must be here," thought he. On
going somewhat further into the forest
however he found an old man with a
lobg white beard, who was cutting
wood.
" Good evening," said he with the
• - .
" Good evening," replied the man,
" whither may you be going'?"
"Oh, I am only going to the lower
regions ; only I don't know whether I've
come the right way," replied the poor
simple-hearted man.
"Yes, you are quite right, said the'
old man, the entiance is just here ;" and
then he added, " when you have got
down below, they will all want to buy
your ham, for swine's flesh is a great
rarity there; but you must not sell it
for money; but rather exchange it for the
old hand-mill that stands behind the
door. When you come up again, I will
teach you what to do with the mill ; for
it has its use I can tell you."
On entering the underground dwell
ing, everything happened just as the
-old man had told him. All the imps,
great and small, gathered around, and
began outbidding each other for the
ham.
" I had intended feasting upon it, on
holy Christmas eve, with my wife,"
said the man ; " but as you seem so
bent on having it, I'm willing to part
with it ; but I will not take anything
in exchange except the old hand-mill
that stands behind the door."
The chief imp did notatall relish part
ing with his mill, and he began to hag
gle and bargain with the man, but the
latter remained firm ; so at last the imp
was fain to let him take the mill away.
When the man had emerged from the
underground dwelling, he asked theold
wood cutter how to use the mill, and
when he told him, he thanked him,
and returned home ; but, let him make
what speed he would, he did not reach
it until twelve o'clock at night.
" Where in the world have you been
all this time ?" said his wife, as he came
in ; " I've been sitting here and wait
ing hour after hour, and I had not as
much ,cs a couple of splinte'rs to lay
across leach other under the gruel pot,
to cook Christmas dinner."
" Oh," replied the man, " I could not
come sooner, for I had some business to
mind, and was obliged to go a long way
about it. But you shallsee what I have
brought with me."
He then placed the mill on the table,
and made it grind, first of all candles ;
then a table cloth ; then food and beer—
in short,all that was wanting for a Christ
mas feast,and whatever he called for,the
mill ground it immediately. His wife
stood by, and crossed herself many
times over, and was very anxious to
know how her husband had come by
the mill. But this he took care not to tell.
" It matters not how I got it wife,"
said he, " you see it is a good mill, whose
water does not cease to flow, and that's
enough." .
And then he ground eatables and
drinkables, and every possible dainty
for Christmas week; and on the third
day lie invited his friends to a banquet.
When the rich brothersaw what a feast
was in preparation he turned hot and
cold with vexation for he grudged his
brother the least windfall.
" On Christmas eve," said he to the
other guests, "he was so miserably
poor, lie came to ask me for a trifle in
God's name, and now all of a sudden,
he is as grand as if he had become an
earl or a king." Then tui ning to his
brother, he said :
" Where on earth did you get all these
riches ?"
"Behind the door," answered the
other, who had no mind to let the cat
• out of the bag. But towards evening,
when lie had taken a drop too much,
he could not keep his counsel any long
er, but brought out his mill.
"Here is the golden goose that has
brought ine all my riches," said he, and
Made the mill grind first one thing and
then another. On seeing this, the broth
er wanted to buy the mill of him, but
the other would not hear of it at first.—
At length, however, as his brother seem
ed to wish for it so very much, he said
he would take three hundred pounds for
it, only he bargained not to part with it
till harvest time ; " for," said he r " if I
keep it till then, I shall be able to grind
enough for many a year to come."
During this space of time, we may
easily imagine that the mill was not al
lowed to grow rusty, and when harvest
time came the brother had it given
him, only the other had taken good care
not to tell him how he was to manage
it..
It was evening when the rich brother
brought the mill home, and on the fol
lowing morning he told his wife that
she might go into the field with the
reapers, and that he would meanwhile
prepare the dinner. Towards mid-day,
therefore, he placed the mill on the
kitchen table.
"Grind away," said he, " and let us
have some herrings and a mess of milk
of the best sort." So the mill began to
turn out herrings and milk, till all the
dishes and pots and pans were filled,
and at last the kitchen was completely
flooded. The man kept trying to stop
the mill ; do what he would, the mill
did not cease grinding and at length the
milk had risen so high that he was in
danger of being drowned. He now
tore open the chamber door, but it was
likewise inundated; and it was with
difficulty that he could wade through
the milky tide, and manage to unfasten
the latch of the house door. No sooner
had he opened the door, than out he
rushed, still pursued by a torrent of
• milk and herrings. And on he ran till
he reached his brother's ; and then he
. entreated his poor relation for God's
3lan/Otiezl s4tettigatece
VOLUME 66
sake, to take his mill back ; " for if it
goes on grinding for another hour,"
said he, "the whole village will be in
undated with herrings and milk."
But the brother refused to take back
his mill unless the other counted him
out three huudred pounds more, and as
there was no help for itthe rich man-was
fain to pay him the money. So, now
that the poor brother had money as well
a4he mill, he built a house that was
far handsomer than the one his rich
brother lived in. .With the help of the
mill he collected so much gold that he
could coverthe walls with plates of gold,
and his house stood near the sea shore,
it could be seen shining from a great
distance at sea. All who sailed near the
coast were sure to anchor in the neigh
borhood, and pay a visit to the rich man
in the golden house in order to see the
wonderful mill.
One day a captain, who, like so many
others, had come to see the mill, in
quired, after looking at it, whether it
could grind salt?
" Yes, it can grind salt as well as any
thing," said the man.
The captain then wanted to buy it at
any price ; " for," thought he, "if I
had this mill I should not be obliged to
sail so far over the rough seas to fetch
At first the man would not hear of
selling it, but the captain teased so long,
hat he consented to part with it for
navy thousand pounds. As the captain
liad obtained the mill, he took care not
to remain in the neighborhood, for fear
the man should repent of his bargain ;
so without even stopping to inquire
how he was to manage the mill, he went
back to his ship and sailed away. On
reaching the main sea, he took out his
mill, and cried, " Grind salt, and let it
be prime stuff !"
And the mill began to grind salt till
it split and cracked again, when the
captain found his ship was full, he tried
to stop the mill, but in spite of all his
endeavors, the mill went on grinding,
and the heap of salt grew higher and
higher, till it finished by sinking the
ship. So now the mill stands at the
bottom of the ocean, and keeps grinding
on at this very day, which is the reason
that sea water is salt.
itiould'nt Marry a Mechanic
A young man commenced visiting a
young woman, and appeared to be well
pleased. One evening he called when
it was quite late, which led the girl to
enquire where he had been.
" I had to work to-night," replied the
young man.
"Do you work fora living?" enquired
he astonished girl.
'Certainly ; I am a mechanic," he
" My brother doesn't work hard, and
I dislike a mechanic," and she turned
up her pretty nose.
This was he last time the mechanic
visited the young lady. Now he is a
wealthy man, and has one of the best
of women for a wife. The young lady
who disliked tile name of mechanic is
now the wife of a miserable fool—a reg
ular vagrant about grogshops—and
the, poor miserable girl, is obliged to
support herself and her children.
Ye who dislike the name of mechanic,
whose brothers do nothing but loaf and
dress, beware how you distrust men
who work for a living. Far better dis
card the well fed pauper, with all his
rings and brazen-facedness and pom
posity, and take to your affections the
callous-handed, industrious, intelligent
mechanic. Thousands have bitterly
repented the folly, who have turned
their backs to honest industry. A few
years of bitter experience taught them
a serious lesson. In this country no
man or woman should be respected, in
our way of thinking, who would not
work mentally or physically, and who
curl their lips with scorn when intro
duced to hard-working men.
"Beastly" Intoxication
The most remarkable case of intoxi
cation we ever heard of is related by
the Troy Timrs. About a month ago
an illicit whisky distillery was in full
blast on Green Island, near Troy. One
night—it was a "still"-night—the man
running the machine had made eighteen
gallons of whisky, and put it out in the
open air to cool. Along came a cow.—
She was thirsty, and the beverage
looked inviting. She swallowed every
drop—eighteen gallons of unrectified
whisky, warranted to kill at forty
rods. The cow has been drunk ever
since. She staggered home and is now
in the fourth week of a grand old bend
er. The cow eats nothing ; falls down
whenever they try to raise her up; and
has become as lean as a crow instead of
a cow. This cow besides, had a young
calf, whose strange behaviour first led
to the discovery of the state of the
mother cow. It reeled round and round,
and lifting three legs and a tail in the
air, actually spun on the fourth leg. The
owner of the cow was an orthodox dea
con, who had been led by Gough to
leave off intoxicating beverages. Be
• ing of scientific habits he tasted
the milk of the cow, to see
what had produced such strange
symtoms. He found it was milk punch,
and having once tasted, he continued
drinking, and it was the quantity thus
taken from the animal by man and calf
that made her " as lean as a crow."
Chemical analysis proves that the casein
had all changed to whisky; but the
, deacon will have to relate his experience
to a consistory of farmers to have his
story believed and recover his upright
position. Whether the cow will ever
get sober or end her life in a lit of de
lirium tremens, is a question to which
we shall look anxiously to see the solu
A Court Scene
" William, look up : tell us, William,
who make you. Do you know ?"
William, who was considered a fool,
screwed up his face,and looking thought
ful, and some bewildered, slowly
answered—" Moses, I s'poses."
" That will do," said counselor Gray,
addressing'the court, " the witness says
he supposes that Moses made him.
That certainly is an intelligent &newer,
more than Isuppose him capable of giv
ing, for it shows that he had some faint
idea of Scripture ; but I must submit
that it is not sufficient to entitle him to
be sworn as a witness capable of giving
evidence."
" Mr. Judge," said the fool, " may I
ax the lawyer a question."
" Certainly," said the Judge.
" Wal, then, Mr. Lawyer, who do
ye spose made you 2"
" Aaron, I spose," said Counselor
Gray, imitating the witness.
After the mirth had somewhat sub
sided the witness drawled out: " Wal,
neow, we do read in the good book that
2y,ron once made a calf, but who'd a
a thought the darned critter got in here 2"
The Judge ordered the man to be
sworn.
The Three Husbands
Mr. Paul Dennett died in a fit of apo
ylexy. Mrs. Dennett was, of course, a
widow. People pitied her, and sympa
thized deeply with her ; and she admin
istered to herself large doses of effectual
consolation in the shape of black crape
and bombazine. After two years of
mourning (sincere we have every rea
son to believe!) Mrs. Dennett laid it
aside (it had begun to grow a little rusty),
and substituted lavender, and in due
time lavender gave place to green ; and
then the handsome widow of twenty
eight conceived the idea of adopting a
boy to run errands, do chores, etc. The
urchin whom Mr. Dennett had taken
into his family, four years be
fore his death, had grown to be
a young man of twenty, and the girls
all pronounced him a fine, handsome
fellow, and on their authority we venture
to recommend him as such. Others be
side the girls thought so; Mrs. Dennett
herself had long been of the same
opinion ; and as she was both rich and
handsome, Mr. George Jones valued
her estimation of his virtues very high
ly, and after the installation of the new
boy, Jim Snip, he offered the widow the
benefit of his name. Mrs. Dennett
blushed—shed a couple of .tears over the
memory of the " dear departed," and
straightway gave herself into the keep
ing of Mr, Jones.
A very happy life they led to all ap
pearances—the widow (now Mrs. Jones)
became rejuvenated ; and George's
whiskers and aquilline nose made him
look ten years older ; so the neighbors
said. Ten years passed away—" ten
of unalloyed bliss," as Mrs. Jones was
wont to say, and George was attacked
witirpneumonia,which ended his career
in a brief period. At his death he was
laid by the side of the first husband and
again was black crape in requisition.
The two years of stipulated mourning
over, and Jim Snip, now twenty-two,
thought he could do no better than prof-
fer himself for the widow Jones' conso
lation. Widow Jones was "lonely-like
without anybody to keer for," and she,
appreciating his kindness, accepted his
Proposition, and became Mrs. Snip.
Shortly after their marriage Mr. Snip,
who, by the way, was somewhat afflict
ed by that terrible disease known among
the French as " faimeantise," deemed
it prudent to adopt a boy to wait on him,
" and," as he jokingly said, " for Mrs.
Snip's fourth husband !" Mrs. Snip,
on being consulted, thought it expedi
ent to take a girl too, while they were
about it ; " as it would save her a sight
of steps, and be handy to have round."
The choice fell on John Hawkins, a
lad of fifteen, the son of a poor farmer in
the vicinity ; and Mary Smith, an or
phan. John was an exceedingly smart
fellow, and Mary was a pretty little blue
eyed lass of twelve years. The children
agreed wonderfully well, and Mrs. Snip
declared " they was• a mighty savin'
about the house."
Six more years flea swiftly on, and a
sudden cold did the business for Jim
Snip. He "shuttled off this moral coil,"
and left his amiable lady a disconsc
late (?) widow! Again, mourning dress
es were the order of the day, and Mr.
Snip was laid in quiet by the side of his
illustrious predecessors.
At the expiration of fifteen months
Mrs. Snip, having got "in the marry
ing way," proposed to give John Haw
kins a life interest in her estate as junior
partner. She gave the-astonished young.
man two days and one night to consider
the proposition, and John, who was
deep iu love with Mary Smith, scarcely
knew whether he was living or dead.—
He really did not know what to do ; it
was a tempting offer—the widow was
rich, and only twenty-six years his
senior, and John was "on the fence"
ready to jump either way, but could
not exactly make up his mind which.
So he asked Mary's advice.
Now Mary Smith was a sensible girl,
and she loved John Hawkins passing
well, but she knew that Mrs. Snip pos
sessed the power to turn them both upon
the world without a farthing—moreover,
Mrs. Snip was troubled with asthma,
and had frequent spells of the cholic,
and was rich to boot—so she told John
was best for him to accept the widow's
offer, and trust to Providence that she
would in time be taken from the evil to
come. With this very pious decision
their confab came to an end. John went
directly to Mrs. Snip and testified him
self ready to take' the vacant place of
poor master Snip, whereupon the widow
kissed John's chin, and the bargain was
sealed.
Three weeks of manufacturing pies,
puddings and sweet cakes, (people had
victuals worth eating in those days),
and then there was a grand wedding.
Through it all Mary Smith went about
singing as merry as a lark—Mary's trust
in Providence was miraculously strong!
Five long years glided by, and Mrs.
Hawkins was taken sick one day, with
dysentery. Mary ilew round the house
like a bird—she thought the hour of de
liverance was near at hand. Alas! for
the falla,y t,l human hopes. Mrs. Haw- 1
kins' hold on life was strong, and what
was more, she was determined it should
always continue so. Four weeks of
violent illness—the physician pro
nounced her case hopeless—when, lo !
as if by magic, the death-struck woman
rallied, grew better, sat up, and in a
fortnight was as well as ever.
Mary Smith talked of going to the
factory, but John, ever hopeful, told her
to waita little longer. So Mary tarried.
Two years more, and returning from
church one Sabbath with a vicious
horse, Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins were
thrown from the carriage, and Mrs.
Hawkins was so badly injured that her
recovery was considered extremely
doubtful. But just as Mary began to
look with a reasonable degree of com
placency to the comfortable berth of Mrs.
Hawkins 2d, Mrs. Hawkins premier be
gan to improve, and it was not long be
fore she was fully restored.
Sick with hope deferred Mary again
suggested going to the factory, and again
John persuaded her to wait a little long
er. So still Mary tarried. She had had
numerous offers of marriage, but she had
refused them all, hoping that her pati
ence would in time be rewarded. Vain !
Ten years flew along, and Mary, now
an old maid of nearly forty, still remain
ed at the house. Most of her rejected
admirers were now married and had
families.
In spite of innumerable burns, scalds,
freezes, blisterings, broken bones, fevers,
and apoplectic fits, Mrs. Hawkins still
continued, and to all appearance got
smarter every day. Poor John began
to decline as she grew young. Some of
the superstitious neighbors asserted
that Mrs. Hawkins was a vampire, and
sucked the very life out of John; while
others, not so romantic by nature, did
not hesitate to declare that John's de
bility came of his sucking the cider-
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 9, 1865.
mug. These latter people were right as
it afterwards appeared, for poor John
died very suddenly in " a spasm of
highsterricks," as Mrs. Hawkins said,
but the physicians gave it as their opin
ion that he perished from " excessive
absorption." Whether from bodily or
spiritual absorption they did not decide.
After the funeral, Mary Smith went
to the factory, and is there now, for
ought we know to the contrary.
The last we heard of widow Hawkins
she was looking out for another boy to
adopt, and we expect every day to re
ceive an invitation to her fifth wedding.
So much for the tenacity of life in a
"lone widder woman."
The Bath of Blood.
About the year 1610, Elizabeth Ba
thori, sister to the King of Poland, and
wife of a rich and powerful Hungarian
magnate, was the principal actor in the
most singular and horrible tragedy men-
tioned in history. She occupied the
castle of Csejta, in Transylvania. Like
most other ladies of that period, she was
surrounded by a troupe of young girls,
generally the daughters of poor but no
ble parents, who lived in honorable ser
vitude—in return for which their edu
cation was cared for, and their dowry
secured. Elizabeth was of 6 severe and
cruel disposition, and her hand-maidens
led no joyous life. Slight faults aresaid
to have been punished by most merci
less tortures.
One day, as the lady of Csejta was ad
miring at the mirror . those charms
which that faithful monitor told her
were fast waning, she gave way to her
ungovernable temper, excited, perhaps,
by the mirror's unwelcome hint, and
struck her unoffending maid in the face
with such force as to draw blood. As
she washed from her hands the stain,
she fancied the part which the blood
had touched grew whiter, softer, and as
it were younger. Imbued with the
credulity of the age, she believed she
had discovered what as many philoso
phers had wasted years in seeking for.
She supposed that in a virgin's blood
she had found the elixir viice, the foun
tain of never failing youth and beauty.
Remorseless, by nature, and now urged
on by irrepressible vanity, the thought
no sooner flashed across her burin than
her resolution was taken—the life of the
luckless hand-maiden was not to be
.compared with the precious boon her
death promised to secure.
Elizabeth, however, was wary 'as well
as cruel. At the foot of the rock on
which Csejta stood was a small cottage,
inhabited by two old women ; and be
tween the cellar of this cottage and the
castle was asubterranean passage known
only to one or two persons, and never
used but in case of danger. With the
aid of these old crones and her steward,
Elizabeth led the poor girl through the
secret passage, and after murdering her,
bathed in her blood. Not satisfied with
the first accomplices and the secret pas
sage, no less than three hundred maid
ens were sacrificed on the altar of vanity
and superstition.
Several years had been occupied in
this pitiless slaughter, and nosuspicions
were excited, though the greatest amaze
ment pervaded the country at the dis
appearance of so many persons. - At
last however, Elizabeth called into play
against her two passions, which were
stronger than vanity and cunning—love
and revenge became interested in the
discovery of the mystery.
Among the victims of Csejta was a
younggirl who was beloved and betroth
ed to a young man in the neighborhood.
In despair at the loss of his mistress he
followed her traces with such persever
ance that, in spite of the hitherto suc
cessful caution of the murderess, he
penetrated the bloody secrets of the cas
tle; and, burning for revenge, flew to
Presburg, boldly accused Elizabeth Ba
thori of murder, before the palarine in
open court, and demanded judgment
against her. So grave an accusation
brought against a person of such high
rank demanded the most serious atten-
on ; and the palarine undertook to in
vestigate the affair in person. Proceed
ing immediately to Csejta, before the
murderess and her accomplices had any
idea of the accusation, he discovered the
still warm body of a young girl whom
they had been destroying as the pala
rine approached, and had not time to
dispose of it before he apprehended them.
The rank of Elizabeth mitigated her
punishment to imprisonment for life,
but her assistants were burned at the
stake.
Legal documents still exist to attes
the truth of thesecircumstances. Paget
a distinguished traveler, who visited
Csejta abont twenty years ago, says :
" With this tale fresh in our minds, we
ascended the long hill, gained the castle,
and wondered over its deserted ruins.
The shades of evening were just spread
ing over the valley, and the bare gray
walls stood up against the red sky ; the
solemn stillness of evening reigned over
the scene, and as two ravens, which had
made their nests on the castle's highest
towers, came toward it, -winging their
heavy flight, and wheeling once round,
each cawing a coarse welcome to the
other, alighted on their favorite turret I
could have fancied then the spirits of
the two old crones condemed to haunt
the scene of their former crimes, while
their infernal mistress was cursed by
some more wretched doom."
Evil Company.
The following beautiful allegory is
ranslated from the German :
Sophronius, a wise teacher, would not
suffer even his own grown up sons and
daughters to associate with those whose
conduct was not pure and upright.
" Dear father said the gentle Eulalie
to him one day when he forbade her in
company with her brother to visit the
volatile Lucinda, "dear father, you
must think us very childish, if you
imagine that we should be exposed to
danger by it."
The father took in silence a dead coal
from the hearth, and reached it to his
daughter. "It will not burn you, my
child, take it."
Eulalie did so, and behold her delicate
white hand was soiled and blackened,
and as it chanced, her white dress also.
"We cannot be too careful in hand
ling coalb," said Eulalie, in vexation.
" Yes, truly," said her father ; " you
see, my child, that coals, even if they
do not burn, blacken. So it is with the
company of the vicious."
. Sir Fletcher Norton was noted for
his want of courtesy. When pleading
before Lord Mansffeld on some ques
tion of manorial right, he chanced to
say, "My Lord, I can illustrate the
point in an instant in my own person ;
I myself have too little manners." The
judge immediately interposed, with one
of his blandest smiles, "We all know
it, Sir Fletcher."
How I Began Life.
I began life by running away from
home. Boileau, we are told, was driven
into his career by the hand of fate and
the peck of a turkey. Attilla started in
ife with no other cause and capital than
an old sword, which he was adroit
enough- to palm off for the divine
weapon of Mars; and Robespierre owed
his political career to wetting his stock
ings—andrthere heard " words which
burn," that fired his soul, and deter
mined his course in life. My running
away from home arose from a minor
mortification, caused by carrying a
pretty girl over the brook.
Donald Lean and myself were good
friends at fourteen years of age, and we
both regarded with a little more than
friendship pretty Helen Graham, " our
oldest girl at school." We romped and
danced together, and this lasted for such
a length of time, that it is with feelings
of bewilderment that I look back upon
the mystery of two lovers continuing
riends. But the time came, as come it
must, when jealousy lit her spark in my
boyish bosom, and blew it into a consu
ming flame..
Well do I remember how and when
the " green-eyed" perpetrated this in
cendiary deed. It was on a cold Octo
ber evening, when Helen, Donald, and
myself were returning, with our parents,
from a neighboring hamlet. As we ap
proached a ford where the water ran
somewhat higher than ankle deep we
prepared to carry Helen across, as we
were accustomed to, with hands inter-
woven, " chair fashion," and thus car
ried our pretty passenger over the brook.
Just as we were in the middle of the
water—which was cold enough at the
time to have frozen anything like feel-
ing out of boys less hardy than ourselves
—a faint pang of jealousy nipped my
heart. Why it was, I know not, for we
had carried Helen fifty times across the
brook ere now without emotion, but this
evening I thought or fancied that Helen
gave Donald an undue preference by
casting her arm around his neck, while
she steadied herself on my side by hold
ing the cuff of my jacket.
No flame call burn so quickly or with
so little fuel as jealousy. Before we had
reached the opposite bank, I was wish
ing Donald at the " bottom of the sea."
Being naturally impetuous, I burst out
with :
" Ye need na haud sae gingerly, Helen
as if ye feared a fa. I can aye carry ye
lighter than Donald can half of ye."
Surprised at the vehemence of my
tone, our queen interposed with an ad
mission that we were both strong, and
that she had no idea of sharing my
powers. But Donald's ire was kindled,
and he utterly denied that I was at all
qualified to compete with him in feats
of moral courage. On such topics boys
are generally emulous, and by the time
we reached the opposite bank, it was
settled that the point should be deter
mined by our singly carrying Helen
across the ford in our arms.
Helen was to determine who had car
ried her most easily, and I settled with
myself privately in advance, that the
one who obtained the preference would
really be the person who stood highest
in her affections. The reflection stim
ulated me to exert every effort, and I
verily believe to this day, that I could
have carried Donald and Helen on either
arm like feathers. But I must not an-
ticipate.
We suffered all the rest of the party
to pass quietly along, and then returned
to the ford. I lifted Helen with the
utmost ease, and carried her like an in
fant to the middle of the water. Jeal
ously had inspired a warmer love, and
it was with feelings unknown before
that I embraced her beautiful form, and
felt the pressure of her cheek against
mine. All went swimmingly, or rather
wadingly, for a minute. But alas, in
the very deepest part of the ford ; I trod
on a treacherous bit of wood, which
rested I suppose, on a smooth stone.
Over I rolled, bearing Helen with me,
nor did we rise until fairly soaked - from
head to foot.
I need not describe the taunts of Don-
aid, or the more accusing silence of
Helen. Both believed that I had fallen
from mere weakness, and my rival de
monstrated his superior ability, byhear
ing her in his arms for a long distance
on her homeward path. As we ap
proached the house, Helen, feeling dry
and better humored, attempted to con
ciliate me. But I-preserved silence. I
was mortified beyond redress.
That night I packed up a few things,
and ran away. My boyish mind, sen
sitive and irritated, exaggerated the ne
gation which it had received, and
prompted me to a course which, fortu
nately, led to better results than usually
attends such irregularities. I went to
Edinburgh, where I found an uncle, a
kind-hearted, childless man, who glad
ly gave me a place in his house, and
employed me in his business. Wealth
flowed in upon him. I became his
partner—went abroad—resided four
years on the continent, and finally re-
turned to Scotland, rich, educated, in
short, everything but married.
One evening, while at a pall in Glas
gow, I was struck by a young lady of
unpretending appearance, but whose
remarkable beauty and brightened ex
pression indicated a mind of more than
ordinary power. I was introduced, but
the Scottish names had long been un
familiar to my ear, and I could not catch
hers. It was Helen something, and
there was something in the face, too,
that seemed familiar—something sug
gestive of pleasure and plain.
But we became well acquainted that
evening. I learned, without difficulty,
her history. She was from the country,
had been well educated, but her parents
had lost- their property, and she was
now a governess in a family of the city.
I was fascinated with her conversa
tion, and was continually reminded by
her grace and refinement of manner
that she was capable of moving with
distinguished success in a far higher
sphere than that which fortune seemed
to have assigned her. I am naturally
neither talkative nor assigned to confi
dence ; but there was that in this young
lady which inspired both, and I con
versed with her as I had never con
versed with any. Her questions of the
various countries with which I was
familiar indicated a remarkable knowl
edge of literature and an incredible
store of information.
We progressed in the intimacy, and as
conversation turned on the reasons
which induced so many to leave their
native land, I laughingly remarked
that my own travels were owing to fall
ing with a pretty girl into a ford.
I had hardly spoken these words ere
the blood mounted to her face and was
succeeded by quite a remarkable pale
ness. I attributed it to the heat of the
room—laughed, and at her request, pror
ceeded to give the details of my ford ad
venture with Helen Graham, painting
in glowing colors the amiability of my
love.
Her mirth, during the recital, became
irrepressible. At the conclusion she re
marked :
" Mr. Roberts, is it possible you have
forgotten me ?"
I gazed an instant—remembered—and
was dumbfounded. The lady with
whom I had become acquainted was
Helen Graham herself.
I hate, and so do you, reader, to need
lessly prolong a story. We were mar
ried, Helen and I made our bridal tour
to the old place. As we approached in
our carriage, I greeted a stout fellow
working in a field, who seemed to be a
better sort of laborer, or perhaps a small
farmer, by inquiring some particulars
relating to the neighborhood. He an
swered well enough, and I was about to
give him asixpence, when Helen stayed
my hand, and cried out in the old style:
" Hey, Donald, mon, dinna ye ken
y'ere old friends?"
The man looked up in astonishment.
It was Donald Lean. His amazement
at our appearance was heightened by
its style ; and it was with the greatest
difficulty that we could invite him to
enter our carriage and answer our
numerous queries as to old friends
Different men " startin life'' in differ
ent ways. I believe that mine, how
ever, is the only instance on record, of
a gentleman who owes wealth and hap
piness to rolling over with a pretty girl
in a stream of water.
"Eat Your Brown Bread First."
It is a plain but truthful saying, " Eat
your brown bread first," nor is there a
better rule for a young man's outset in
the world. 'While you continue single
you may live in as narrow limits as you
please ; and it is then that you must be
gin to save, in order to be provided for
the more enlarged expenses of your
future family. Beside, a plain, frugal
life is then supported most cheerfully.
It is your , own choice, and it is to be
justified on the best and most honest
principles in the world, and you have
nobody's pride to struggle against, or
appetites to master but your own. As
you advance in life and succeed, it will
be expected that you will give yourself
greater indulgencies, and you may then
be allowed to do it both reasonably and
safely.
Reforming a Scold
In the early Period of Methodism,
some of Mr. Wesley's opponents, in the
excess of their zeal against enthusiasm,
took up a wagon load of Methodists,
and carried them before ajustice. When
they were asked what these persons
had done, there was an awkward silence;
at last one of the accusers said : " Why
they pretend to be better than other
people ; and besides, they prayed from
morning till night. The magistrate
asked if they had done any thing else?
Yes sir" said an old man, "a'nt please
:your worship, they conyarted my wife,
.Till she went among them, she had
.siach a tongue! and now she is quiet as
a lamb." " Carry them back, carry them
back," said the magistrate, "and let
them convert all the scolds in the town."
I Capital Evasion
Two literary ladies were lately wit
tresses in a trial.
One of them, upon hearing ILE , usual
question asked " What is your name
and how old are you ?" turned to her
companion, and said :
"I do not like to tell my age; not
that I have any objection to having it
known ; but I don't want it published
in all the newspapers."
"Well, said the witty Mrs. —, "
will tell you how to avoid it. You have
heard the objection to all hearsay evi
dence ; tell them you don't remember
when you were born, and all you know
of it is by hearsay."
Fellow Traveller
"Will you help me out of this mud
hole," said a travelling druggist, who
had just been compeled to stop his team,
because they could not pull it out.
"\o I can't stop," said the Yankee,
who was as heavily loaded, and was
fearful that he would be too late for the
cars.
" I would take it as a great favor, be
sides paying you," said the former.
"What are you loaded with?" said
the Yankee.
END=
" I guess I'll try and get you
out 4hen, for I'm loaded with tomb
stoneS."
They were seen travelling together
after that.
Character of the Census--Takers" of
New York----War Widows, dc.
In the State of New York, "Enumer
ators" are appointed by the Secretary
of State, to take the census of their dis
tricts. The returns of some of these
" Enumerators" have hewn recently
published. They show that the school
masters, as well as something else, is
much needed among the Republican
officials of the Empire State. Of the
character of some of these reports, the
following, from theSchoaire Repubfiemi
will be sufficient:
To the question--"W hat other changes
in the social condition of the people
have you observed since 1860 ?" the
Enumerator of the town of Conesville
returns the following answer :
"A majority of the people have not
been as sociable or as companionable as
previous to the commencement of the
war. They charge Republicans and
Abolitionists of being the cause of the
war and prophesied their success and a
divided country. But a change has
come over the spirits of their dreams,
they now appear sullen and disappoint
ed and say little or nothing about the
war."
Mr. Wm. E. Ritchmyre, the Enu
merator for the above town, tells us that
since he commenced to " tak " the cen
sus, the number of deaths' "have not
varied in Tcb ," although there have been
twelve or fifteen cases of small-pox. He
is of the opinion that the effect the war
has had upon crime has been to lessen
it. Pauperism has increased but little,
while credit has been lessened ; differ
ing somewhat from W. H. Aibro, the
Enumerator for the Second District of
the town of Middleburg, who says :
"Ques. What other changes in the
social condition of the people have you
observed since 1860? Ans. The past
four years, though pregnant with his
tory in all parts of the country, have
witnessed fewer changes in rural dis
tricts than in the large villages and
cities. In this district there have been
no very great changes in the socialcon
condition of the inhabitants. There
were times in certain localities,
where, perhaps, the war-widow was
a little too sociable to be at all times
within the bounds of Charity, and while
the brave husband was sleeping upon
the bosom of Mother Earth, the sky for
a covering, and his knapsack for a pil
low, the Fair one at home might be en
tertaining guests, and playing the part
of Potepher's wife. But now that the
Brave Boys are coming home, it is to
be presumed that virtue will be pre
sented with fewer temptations, and
Eve's daughters will covet less that
- which they are forbidden to taste."
Jerusalem! What census-takers.
NUMBER 31.
iorellancouo.
Grand African Jubilee.
The free Americans of African de
scent who live within sound of the bells
of Beecher's church, held a grandeman
cipation jubilee in " Myrtle Avenue
Park," Brooklyn, on theflrst of August,
the anniversary of the abolition of
slavery in the British West Indies. A
correspondent of the• World, who was
present, says the Park was overspread
by a "darkness that might be felt," at
the same time that it was redolent of
odors stronger, if not so sweet, as the
spicy breath of " Araby the Blest."
" Down the far-stretching vista," says
this correspondent, " could be seen knots
and lines of sable intermingling with
all the colors of the rainbow—black faces
under bonnets, and above shawls and
dresses of every showy hue, huddled
together in earnest intercourse, or
stumping it rapidly along, jolly, good
humored faces every one of them, of
every quartering and half-quartering,
from " noir de Congo " to " milky octo
roon ;" the men chiefly attired in un
earthly integriments of limp and de
vastated white, as though the tint de
served an extra wrinkle or two of con
tumely, anyhow, and the ladies "got
up regardless of expense." In fact, the
" femuales," as the sour man outside
the toll-gate irreverently or by a twist
of dialect did term them, were simply
gorgeous. " Waterfalls," " rats," "cats"
and " mice," and all the other horrors
of head-dress, were here to be seen on
their loftiest scale and grandest pro
fusion. They were not the " lillies of
the field," and yet
Solomon, in all his glory,
Was not arrayed like one of these
Corn color and spotted mousseline
predominated. The skirts were rotund
and expansive, " with an undulating
grace," and hats and bonnets towered
over them with a plenitude of lace and
artificials that gave the " toot-in-sam
ple," as the linguistic Partington might
term it, the look of a japanned coal
scuttle half covered with -moss and
flowers.
But say what you will, incredulous
opponent of African supremacy, brown
and black orbs, large and lustrous,
glistened and flashed like brilliant upper
spheres, above ranges of ivory as white
as the mountains of New Hampshire in
the gloomy glimmer of a winter dawn.
Massive trombone music and wild
H'yah, h'yah's"of delight came from
he depths of the woods as we exulting-
ly advanced and " scups " to the right
of us, " scups " to the left of us in fine ;
scups, skirts, and " Spanish ankles " in
the air on all sides, we hurried to its
'ubilee.
What has color to do with obesity?
Does the Africanization of the rainbow
endow all its shades with a quality for
fatness. Once in a while there was alit-
e mite of a brother, so intensely black
and shiny that the effort made him thin,
but, as a general thing, rotundity was
the glorions result from jet to jessamine
color We had no objection to our breth
ren, only that they were so much our
brethren and sistern too, we may add,
with a retrospective remembrance of the
perspiration. Dry goods were - wet-goods
on that platform, at all events ! And
around as far as the view extended, ta
bles under the trees were spread with
picnic fare from spacious baskets, and
benches beside them held the lovely fig
ures of Afric's belles and beaux.—
Among them were many who had the
wavy hair, the soft, rounded, and yet
well chiseled features of Italian beauty,
with here and there a cheek where the
sun had left his touch, or the brighter
blood of the Caucausian race glowed up
on a silky surface, like the blush on the
side of the seckel pear that first receives
the kisses of the morning.
The assembled crowd taken together,
amounted in all, including picaninnies,
as well as grown folks, to about 4,000 ;
and a merrier crew never graced the
bister-hued ballrocims of New York, or
rolled in the grass " away down South
on de ole plantation." The morning,
from about 11 o'clock, saw them come
streaming in—a glistening tide—until
noon, when the main spaces near the
pavilion, not forgetting the scups,
swinging from a hundred trees, were
lacquered with dusky sheen. A bar to
the rear of the main is and was a foun-
taro of rejuvenescence in the shape of
" lager beer" and " lemon soda,' and
around as a center, the night-blooming
boys and beauties congregated at mani
fold tables and piped their sweet Anglo
African lays. Here it was that, at a
festive board more decorated than the
rest, " a yaller flower of the forest" thus
rehearsed, in the language of a distin
guished fellow-citizen, an appeal to the
chosen people:
"'MANSIPATED BREDDREN : Did enny ob
your ebber hear wot the Reberend Massa
Cox, of New York, sed bout the blessed
Lard? Nebber. I tought not. Most oh
you habent got no dichshinary larnin, and
is as ignorant as ground-hogs. Well, ho
sed the good Lard was dark-complected,
same as you and use is. And de white folks
in New York—blame thar ugry picters—
dey mobbed him for speakin de troof. Yes,
I say de troof! For, bein born in Africa,
how ceuld he be white? De fust white man
gibber seen in Africa was a misshinary, and
dere warn't no misshinaries no whirs pre
vious to the year anna domino, for that was
the year the bressed Lard was born, and
there was nuthin to preach about tell he
cum. Tharfore, Reberened Massa Cox was
right; and now let us sing the follering him,
which I hab rote for this interestin 'cashin."
The deep feeling with which this
superb exhortation was received, grand
and imposing as it seemed, was but a
whimper to the grand intonation given
by all hands (for they clapped them)and
hearts, for you could almost hear the
latter beat, to the subjoined " hyme,"
as the " yaller flower" obstreporously
announced it. The composition ema
nates from the same high source that
bestowed the sermon :
" We's nearer to de Lord
Dan de white folks an' dey knows It
See de glory-gate unbarred
Walk in darkies past de guard
Bet yer a dollar he won't close it.
Walk in darkies trop de gate
Hark de kullered angels holler
Go 'way white folks, you're too late
We's de winnln limner. Walt.
Tell de trumpet blows to foller.
Hebben bress good Massa Cox !
He took down dem proud Kawkaslaum
No more Lards with auburn locks,
Kullered Shepherd—woolly flocks—
We's de bressed Lord's relashins.
Hallelujah! tanks to praise,
Long enough we've borne our crosses
Now we's de superior race,
And wid Gorramighty's grace
We's goin to Hebben afore de bosses
But the earnestpartof the programme
was now announced, and all attention
was concentrated on the platform of the
Pavilion, where, at two P. M., the in
vincible Trower made his appearance
in a magnificent dress of black and
white, with a button-hole badge of yel
low and red, and surrounded by the
committee of arrangements. A moment
afterward, he introduced the orator of
the occasion :
PROFESSOR WILLIAM HOWARD DAY,
who is fond of having it understood
that he holds among the colored folks
the position as an orator, conceded to
the late Honorable Edward Everett.
The professor favored his audience
with an elaborate and quite lengthy ad
dress, delivered with much real power
and earnestness, and devoted to a thor
ough review of the great events in the
history of the African race, and a fer
vent eulogy upon President Lincoln and
his memorable emancipation measure.
But the announcement that the great
colored champion in oratory and poli
tics,
FRED. DOUGLASS,
was present, was hailed with a perfect
furore of cheers and hurrahs, as though
all Africa had come back again from
the desert to the civilized American
throat.
Douglass, however, made but a very
few remarks.
The Herald, which also gives an ac
count of this great African jubilee, says
we are indebted to the inventive genius
BATES OW ADVERTISIN
stnumseurrs,_s4l !t,
i lin — t« -- Der lit
square o ten es; flyer ore,—
fractions of a_year. .
BnAT., ESTATE," ..r ~N A.X.PIiOPIDITY, d anN
REAM ADVERTISING, 7 cents a line for... the
Mat, and 4 cents for each subsequent inter..
tion. - .
PATENTBIzoICO322 and other adver's by tile •„,
column:
One column, 1 year,
Half column, 1 year—. ......
Third column, 1 year,
Quarter column iii
BuSiNESS CARDS, 90 tan lines or less,
one year It?
Business Cards, five lines or less,
Vitg .
year. 5
LEGAL AND OTEER NOTICEs—
Executors' notices 2.00
Administrators' notices ..... 2.00
Assignees' notices 2.00
Auditors' notices 1.50
Other "Notices," ten lines, or less,
three times,
evoked on this occasion for a new meth
od of applauding. It says :
On the gallery behind the speaker was
situated a drum major—a drum major of
the eight Pennsylvania (colored) regi
ment. To say he did not understand the
nature of his profession would be to ma-
lign him in a most shameful manner.—
When the orator made a hit, instead of
testing the appreciation of the audience
the .drummer played a succession of
beats ; if the orator took a glass of water
or paused to draw his handkerchief across
his brow, the beats were increased;
when the orator mislaid his manuscript
the drum major beat a tattoo, and when
the orator concluded, he performed a
march with a skill and regardlessness of
time which would compare favorably
with the performance of a crack drum
corps. Sometimes, of course, awkward
mistakes were made, when the drum
mer, mistaking his cue, struck in while
the orator was in the middle of a pathetic
passage, and only paused for breath ; but,
altogether, the performance was as cred
itable as the idea was admirable. For
cheers, therefore, in the course of the
above speech, read " rolling of drums,"
and you will have a proper conception
of the matter.
Treason and Traitors
The celebrated Count Joannes, who
oscillates between Boston and New
York, and indulges in the luxury of a
suit for libel against some unfortunate
newspaper editor about once every three
months, has addressed a letter to the
President of the United States upon
treason and traitors. The following ex
tracts show who are .and who are not
traitors, in the opinion of the Count:
WHO ARE TRAITORS'.
1. A traitor must in every case owe al
legiance to the nation, or sovereign,
charging him with treason ; thence a
traitor against this country must be a
citizen of the United States at the time
of the alleged treason.
2. A traitor is a citizen who, in time
of foreign war, shall adhere to the pub
lic enemy, either as a soldier or sailor,
and fight against the United States.
3. A traitor is a citizen, who shall aid
and abet a foreign enemy in levying
war. He could not be an agent, but one
of the principals, for treason being a
crime of the highest character, and its
penalty death, all traitor citizens would
be principals; upon the rule, that in
crime there can be no legal agents, as in
commercial contracts.
4. A traitor is a citizen who, residing
abroad, or within the republic, should
adhere to her public enemies, then at
war with this country, by giving them
aid and comfort, by loaning them money
to "levy war against the U tilted States,"
or by furnishing ships or the munitions
of wrtr, such as powder, weapons,',; pro-
visions, etc.
5. traitors would he those citizens
who, during a foreign war, should fit
out a privateer and aid the public ene
my by fighting against this country or
its citizens, by the destruction of prop
erty upon the high seas. They would
not be pirates, because they war not
against all mankind, but against a single
nation. Thence the Alabama was not
a pirate, nor Raphael Semmes a traitor,
because he fought as a rebel in our own
civil war; and, having accorded bel
ligerent rights to the rebels, we are
estopped from truly calling them trai
tors, and thence the renowned com
mander of the Alabama is free upon his
parole d'honocur.
n. A traitor would be a citizen, who,
in a period of foreign war, should ren
der aid and comfort to the enemies of
the country, by correspondence, in fur
nishing plans of forts, number of regi
ments, their position on the eve of a
battle, etc., or in any manner as a
species of spy, adhering to the enemies
of the Republic by giving them service
able intelligence.
7. A traitor, in time of war, would be
a citizen, soldier or sailor who should
desert the flag of the country and join
the common enemies, thus aiding them
to" levy war arrainstthe United States."
By the law a this country there is no
sob crime as constructive trca.qon, as in
ngland; therefore, by an amendment
of Franklin's in the conventional de
bate, " no person can be convicted of
treason, unless on the testimony of two
witnesses to the same overt (public) act,
or confessions in open court."
IVIIO ARE NOT TRAITORS
It is self-evident that, before a citizen
can be convicted of being a traitor, it
must first be proven that treason existed,
upon the legal principle that no person
can be tried for murder until the homi
cide has been proved and the body
identified.
In the trial for treason of Col. Aaron
Burr, in 1807, he pleaded his own cause
before Chief Justice Marshall, with Jno.
Randolph as foreman of the jury, and
he estopped any attempt to prove that
he was a traitor . , until the Government
first established that treason had been
committed. The Chief Justice ruled
that he was right, and no act was proved
which was treason; for revolution orat
tempted revolution was not treason, and
Aaron Burr was acquitted despite the
earnest wish and endeavor of the then
President to hang him. Even the uni
versal prejudice against Colonel Aaron
Burr for his killing ( ieneral Alexander
Hamilton in the duel (though fairly
fought) did not prevent " twelve good
men and true," under the charge of the
great Chief Justice Marshall, the friend
of Washington, from acquitting the
prisoner. Thence Aaron Burr was not
a traitor, though lie attempted to dis
member a portion of the States and
Territories and erect a new republic.
This is precisely what Jefferson Davis
attempted, and, like Aaron Burr, failed.
The Hon. Josiah Quincy, of Massa
chusetts, and Governor Caleb Strong
were not traitors ; the former for threat
eni fig the secession of New England as
a reserved right, and the latter for re
fusing to aid the Clos'ernment with State
troops. The Constitution may be so
amended as to make it treason • but no
ex post facto law can lie enacted. The
Hon. John C. Calhoun, the nullifier
revolutionist, was not a traitor, because
nullification was but another word for.
rebellion, which is revolution. I desire,
your Excellency, especially to call your
attention and reflection to this case, and
the learned opinions thereon by my
once celebrated living tutors ; and who,
though now dead in body, "still live"
in word and spirit! In Pill I was de
puted bearer of important dispatches to
our Minister at the Court of St. James,
from the President and his Secretary of
State, as also embassadorial communi
cations from them, and the new Secre
tary of State under President Harrison,
the Hon. Daniel Webster.
In a conversation with that patriotic
statesman, following one I had with
President Van Buren, upon the theme
of the then apparently approaching war
with Great Britain, and treason of citi
zens only in a foreign war, the Hon.
Daniel Webster distinctly stated to me
that " if President Andrew Jackson had
hanged the Hon. John C. Calhoun as
the nullifier, as he threatened, it would
have been an Executive murder, and,
for which the President could not only'
have been impeached and removed from
office, but indicted for murder, accord
ing to the Constitution,for nullification,
like secession for independence, was
revolution for the same constitutional
issue, and could not be treason!" There
fore, the Hon. John C. Calhoun was not
a traitor. This opinion of Daniel Web
ster was confirmed to me by the Hon.
Henry Wheaton, in 1864. our Embassa
dor at the Court of Berlin, during my
visit to the late King of Prussia.
Upon the foregoing premises in this
letter, it follows that no person engaged
in the late unsuccessful revolution can
be a traitor. I care not for their names
—be it the chivalric Stonewall Jackson
or some one unknown to fame. If
Stonewall Jackson was a traitor, then
is Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee;
but neither of them can with justice be
termed so, except in ignorance .of con
stitutional law and our own rights as
freemen of the United States. Their
failure does not make them traitors, if
their success 'would have made them
patriots ; affd who doubts the latter title
itthey had succeeded? •