Vi a' u,ea ater`;` iteUt ucr Pl7ll - IMICHT4IIDErESiIA.Y`BY 0001P,1N.,, SA. ND - ERISO2 I I tt CO. J. M. Coorsa, H. (4 . Sham, ALFRED BezmassoN Wit. A. MORTON, TERNS—Two Dollars per annum, payable all cases In advance. OFFICE—SOITTIIWEST cOENE3 or CEITEE CttrAllE. agr Ail letters on ANDERSONbouId be ad ressed to COOPER, Set CO. Nottvg. The flaunting Past. He came tcklay. He brought his bride, And though the wood they went with me; We passed our ancient Lusting place ; I saw him turn his head aside. And wondered if his glance would fall On letters carved by him of yore. In days that he regrets no more— That I with burning thoughts recall. The Golden Past, that haunts me yet, Whose faded glory seems to him ' • Like twlight distance, cold and dim— Oh, strange it is how men forget ! Yet through those hours my will was strong To school my heart to stifle pain— I could not act that farce again ! But night came, though the day, was long. Night came ; they went. His farewell tone Rings in my ear. 'Twill be the last! My heart's tierce ordeal is past ; Beneath the stars I stand alone. Xittratv. A Summer• Day in haying BY B. F. TAYLOR. Five o'clock and a summer morning ! Asilver mist hangs all along the streams, a few downy clouds are afloat and the landscape isheavy with dew. The cows turned out from the milking, are tink ling their way along the winding path to the woods ; the robins are calling to each other in the orchard, and an enter prising hen in the barn is giving " the world assurance of"—an egg. Somehow, earth, on such a morning, looks as if it were just finished, the coloring not' ry, the mouldings not " set ;" without a grave or grief in it. Noting " the way of the wind," and remembering that the sun " come out " as it set last night, it is pronounced a good day for haying. ,So forth to the meadow they go, the farmer, the neigh bors, and the boys, " armed and equip ped," a young bare footed commissary bringing up the rear with earthen jug and bright tin pail. Much talk of "wide swaths" and " mowings around," with laugh and jest, beguiles the journey through the pasture to the field of battle. Coats and jackets fly like leaves in win ter weather, and moves the phalanx with the steady step and sweep, and the tall, damp grass. One bends to the scythe as if it were an oar, and pants on . in the rear of his fellows. Another walks erect and boldly up to the grass, the glittering blade the while curving freely and easily about his feet, The fellow in Kentucky jean expended his strength in boasting on the way, and labors like a ship in a heavy sea, while the quiet chap in tow, that never said a word, is the pioneer of the field. On they move, towards the tremulous woods in the distance. One pauses, brings the swath to " order arms," and you can hear the tinkling of the.ritle, as it sharpens the edge of Time's sym bol. Another wipes the beaded drops from his brow, and then swath-notes blend again in full orchestra. Onward still; they are hidden in the waving grass—all but a broken row of broad brimmed hats, that, rising and falling, seem to float slowly over the top of the meadow. Ten o'clock, and a cloudless sky. The birds and the maples silent and still ; not a flutter in woodland or fallow. Far up in the blue, a solitary hawk is slowly swinging in airy circles over the farm. Far down in the breathless lake sweeps his shadowy fellows. The long, yellow ribbon of road leading to town, is a quiver With heat. " Brindle " and " Red " stand dozing in the marsh ; the sheep are panting in the angles of the fences; the horses are grooped beneath the old tree ; " Pedro," the faithful guardian of the night, has crawled un der the wagon for its shadow, now and the snapping in his sleep at the flies that hum around his pendant ear ; the cat haS crept up into the leafy butternut, and stretched herself at length, upon a limb, to sleep ; the canary is dreaming on his drowsy perch ; and even the but terflies weary of flickering in the sun shine, rest, like full blown exotics, on the reeds. The children of a neighbor ing school, all flushed and glowing, come bounding down the slope in couples, the old red pail swung up be tween ; and the clatter of the windlass betokens " the old oaken bucket " al ready dripping up into the sun, with its brimming wealth of water. Twelve o'clock and a breatless noon. The corn fairly curls in the steady blaze. The sun has driven the shadow around under the west and north walls ; it has reached the noon mark on the threshold and pours the broad beams into the hall; the morning glories have struck their colors, and a little vine trailed up the wall by a string of a shroud, show de: tided symptoms of letting go. The horn winds for dinner, but its welcome notes surprises the mowers in the midst of the meadow, and they'll cut their way out like good soldiers, despite their Back we are again to the field, aye, and back, too, upon the threshold of childhood. A chance breath wafts to us the sweet, old-fashioned fragrance of the new mown hay, and we are younger in memory than we'll ever be again. The angry hum of the bees just thrown out of house and home, and the whist ling quail, as she whirled timidly away before the steady sweep of the whetted scythes; and the shout of the children as the next stroke laid upon their sum mer hopes to the day ; and the bell tones of the bob-o -links swinging upon the willows in the "Hollow." Can't you hear—don't you remember them all? And have you forgotten the green knoll wider the wide-spread beech—or was it a maple? And how hungry you were, at the morning lunch, just from sympathy, though you hadn't "earned your salt" for a week? And the brown jug filled with pure water, and—in those olden times, you know—the little black bottle, with something stronger, just "to qualify" it, as they-said, that nes tled lovingly together, amid the cool and dewy grass in the fence corner? We are sure you remember how the mag nificent loads went tumbling into the barn, you upon the top, and bow they heaped the new hay into the empty "mow " till it was half as high ft the latter—up to the big beam— up to the swallow hole ; and how you crept up with a young group, and hid away in a dark corner, festooned with cobwebs, and played you were a " painter" or a " catamountain," and growled terrifically, to the unspeakable dread of our little brother, or cousin, or somebody. Or, how, of the trolic, you lay uponthe hay, and counted the dusty sunbeams, as they stre , med through the crevices in the loose siding, and wondered how they got out again, and how many it took to make a day, and passed &our fingers through them, to and fro, and Marvelled that you felt nothing. Many a time, you know, you crept through that same mow with Mary Grey—don't you remember Mary?- She lived in the house just over the hill.— Have you forgotten how youwentstraw berrying together? You picked in her . ; -- - ; ' ' ; -- ; ' •••.- -: ''-, : • ' .;.:' ',:': -:-.' ":, , • 1 ' ‘, . •-';,,:- t::,:-.!:,;. %II': _ . • • %4 , '1 ,. : , .V . -1 - ,,...:: .. ii.: + ~ , t . ..-...1,4 r 6..4'1;1 . . . L- ! ,.; i ~,,,,L ;i1, . .;;;) -,.., - ;:;-, 41.;;; ; .. 1ui.1 , ,. t....,fr-,..:*.,) '...i.f,.1..-., -...:11 ~• -,. . , . - : .. . ._ . .:-.. r. 0., JIB -, 7 ~/ ....- • , L, , - .... _ . . ... . .. . . . . . . . 1. .. _.. a ~....,...i.„.::__ . ~.....A . :•.,_,.„ ,_ _._ ~ . „.............::_. :..,, ~ , •..._,... .., .. ....... • _.. ... ..•....,.....,.. ..... .. , ... . .. . . •• .. .. ... _ . •••• . ~. ~ . „. _ . . . .; •.. • . • .. . ..... . ~. VOLUME 66 basket—don't deny it—and you always felt happier than when you filled yOur own, though you never knew why.— You had a queer feeling sometimes aboutthe heart, though you neverknew what. You have fOund it all out since, no doubt. And Mary—what has be come of her? Why, "there is a reaper whose name is Death," that goes forth to the harvest in sweetest Spring and latest Autumn and deepest Winter as well, and Mary and Ellen and Jane were long ago bound up in the same sure bundle of life. Seven o'clock; and a clear night. The shadows and the mists are rising in the valleys—the frogs have set up their chorus in the swamp—the fire flies are sh owing a light off the marsh—the whip-poor-wills begin their melancholy song—a star blazes beautifully over the top of the woods, and the fair beings that people our childhood come about us in the twilight—the fair beings, " Who set as sets the morning star, that goes Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides Obscured amid the tempest of the sky, But melts away into the light of heaves" American Wonders The greatest cataract in the world is the Falls of Niagara, where the water from the great upper lakes forms a riverof three-quarters ofa mile in width, and then, being suddenly contracted, plunges over the rocks, in two columns, to the depth of one hundred and seventy feet each. The greatest cave in the world is the Mammoth Cave, in Kentucky, where any one can wake a voyage on the waters of a subterranean river, and catch fish without eyes. The greatest river in the world is the Mississippi, four thousand one hundred miles in length. The largest valley in the world is the Valley of the Mississippi. It contains five hundred thousand square miles, and is one of the most fertile and profit able regions of the globe. The largest lake in the world is Lake Superior, which is truly an inland sea, being four hundred and thirty miles long and one thousand feet deep. The greatest natural bridge in the world is the Natural Bridge over Cedar Creek, in Virginia. It extends across a chasm eighty feet in width and two hundred and fifty feet in depth, at the bottom of which the creek flows. The greatest mass of solid iron in the world is the Iron Mountain of Missouri. It is three hundred and fifty feet high and two miles in circuit. Thejargest number of whale ships in the world is sent out by Nantucket and New Bedford. The greatest grain port in the world is Chicago. The largest aqueduct in the world is the Croton Aqueduct in New York. Its length is forty and a half miles, and it cost twelve and a half millions of dol- The largest deposits of anthracite coal in the world are in Pennsylvania, the mines of which supply the market with millions of tons annually, and appear to be inexhaustible. All these it may be observed are American " institutions." In contem plation of them, who will not acknowl edge that ours is a great country'? Didn't Know the Ropes Western officers were proverbial for shocking bad uniforms; and, in a ma jority of instances, it was rather difficult to distinguish them from privates. Among this class was a brigadier general named James Morgan, who looked more like a wagon master than a soldier. On a certain occasion, a new recruit, just arrived in camp, had lost a few articles, and was inquiring around among the "vets" in hopes of finding them. An old soldier, fond of sport, told the recruit the only thief in the brigadewas in Jim Morgan's tent ; so he immedi ately started for " Jim's" quarters, and poking his head in, asked— " Does Jim Morgan live here ?" " Yes," was theyeply. "My name is James Morgan." " Then I want you to hand over those books you stole from me !" " I have none of your books, my man." " It's an infernal lie," indignantly exclaimed the recruit. " The boys say you're the only thief in the camp ; so turn out them books, or I'll grind your carcass into apple sass." 'l' he general relished the joke much ; but, seeing the sinewy recruit peeling off his coat, he informed him of his re lationship with the brigade, when the recruit walked off, merely remarking,— " Wall, blast me if I'd take you for a brigadier. Excuse me, general; I don't know the ropes yet." JOHN BOWERS was smitten at Old Latham's—a jolly old fellow, blessed with two very pretty daughters. John was as regular in his visits as Sunday itself, but one memorable Sunday, when the house was filled with beaux and belles, old Latham issued :forth to his work. John followed him from the house alid began: "Nice lot of hogs, Mr. Latham," said John by way of introduction. " Yes—pretty good pork, John, if I only have luck," said old Latham, who really liked him, and often scolded his daughters for the fun they made of him. John was silent for a few minutes, but at length, with a terrible uncon cerned look at some wheat stacks a mile distant, he said, gaspingly: "Mr. Latham, I—l—come courtin', sir." " Well, John," said the old man, amused, " young men •pill do that now a-days. I hope you are getting on all right •?" "Yes, sir," said John, taking courage; " and I come to ax you for one o' your daughters." "Oh !" said old Latham, biting his lips, "you've come to that already, have you, John? Well, which one is it, John?" " Oh, sir, as to that"—said poor John, with a ludicrous air of serene sheepish ness—" as to that, sir, it don't snake any difference ; either one' 11 do, sir !" Old Latham used to tell the story afterward, much to his pretty daugh ters' discomfiture. —A Quaker had his broad-brimmed hat blown off, and chased it for a long time with fruitless and very funny zeal. At last seeing a roguish looking boy laughing at his disaster, he said to him: " Art thou a profane lad ?" The.punger replied that he sometimes did a little in that way. Then said he, taking a half dollar from his pocket, "thee may curse him to this amount." When Caesar was advised by _his friends to be more cautious of thesecuri ty of his person, and not walk among the people without arms or any one to defend him, he always replied to the admonitions, "He that lives in fear of death, every moment feels its tortures. I will die but once." The Duel on the Dike It was a fair day on the river Ohio. The grand saloons of the steamer Kish icoquillas were crowded with passen gers. The ladies in the after-portions lounged -upon luxurious divans, sipping cooling beverages, or sleeping over re cent literature, and in and out among them played a dark-eyed child, who now and then cried petulantly for his papa. The latter sat in the dim, close, forward cabin, at one oT many card tables. He was pale and agitated, for he was losing heavily. Little by little, Fortune had beckoned him on, and now that she was receding he gambled reck lessly; but the cool, clever gentleman, with the curling'ha.ir, sitting opposite, swept off the eagles without a smile. The loser was wild ; at each misfortune he doubled his stake, the winner always closing with him, though carelessly; and it was not hard to read in the for- . mer's darkening face that he counted his losses seriously. It was a game of poker, and there were many partici pants: but these two divided all atten tion. Five cards were dealt to each, and the players wagered upon the relative values, or their suits of sequences. -If the troubled man held four tens, the other was certain to hold four knaves; twice he held all the kings ; the other called four aces. " I do not own a dime in the world !" cried the pale gentleman, at last; " will you place two hundred dollars against my watch?" The person with the flowing hair bowed politely. " I go the watch upon my hand !" cried the pale gentleman, sanguinely desperate. "I raise you two hundred dollars," answered- the cool person, gravely.— " You have a handsome emerald upon your finger—will you stake it for that amount?" The pale man threw it down with a - - - - " I show four queens !" he said. " The ring and watch are mine," re plied the other, calmly. " I show four kings !" The pale man sprang from his chair with a howl. " I call God to witness that I have been swindled !" he hissed. "I am disgraced, ruined! The money which I have lost was not mine. That man has made me a thief, and he wears upon his finger my poor wife's wedding ring !" In another instant, he had Scat tered his own brains upon the bystand- The survivor wiped his coat compla cently and lit a fresh cigar. The steamer was pausing at some station, and, amid the haste and confusion, he stepped pleasantly ashoro. The lines had been cast adrift; the wheelsspun round again; the boat moved on, when a shrill, piercing scream arose from the throng. It was the dark-eyed child, and he had found his papa. "Come heahouy little mars'r," said an old negro steward, lifting the boy aloft and wiping his eyes. " Does ye see a gen'leman yonder on de quay—a mos' respec'ble gen'leman agwyn in de hack Dat man has got yer pa's golden jewels." The boy marked fiercely through his tears the shapely limbs and the long, bright ringlets, and on the stranger's white hand the glitter of the dead man's gem. A gush of grief drowned out the scene, and the steamer drifted away. Twenty years followed, and each year witnessed upon the Western waters its host of dupes and blacklegs. But among the latter class there was one singularly eccentricand successful. He never lost. There were no impossibilities in the games which he played. He was a necromancer with cards ; with some there were chances—he made all chance acertainty. He plundered the poor and the rich, yet cast their purses back again with scorn in his dark eyes, and he was invariably searching for a gentlemanly tourist with flowing hair, upon whose track he seemed to be forever, yet whom he never found. At times he would leap from the gaming-table, as a steamer passed, exclaiming that he saw the ob ject of his search, and offer the Captain his fortune to turn and overtake him. He remarked him upon rafts, and land ings, and in receding villages, and among the thousand faces of busy cities. Yet, with those glimpses, the figure passed away and the years dragged by, and the traveling public thought the young man crazy—though not upon the subject of cards. They met one day—the pursuer and pursued—after all those twenty years. It was a fair afternoon upon the Missis sippi, and upon the steamer Kishico quillas. They sat in the forward cabin at one of the many tables, and the floor at the feet of the pursuer was dark with ancient blood-stains. " I beg your pardon," he said quietly, bending his dark eyes upon his op ponent; " will you change places with me?" The flowing hair of the other was very gray, but he was calm as winter, and only i'or a moment he faltered. "Ii rut insist," he answered plyas antly ; " it can give you no advantage." They were wonderfully matched ; but the young man won. They wagered extravagantly, and they waited deliber ately, but the young man always wons "I will play you my watch," said the elderly person—and the young man won. " Here are sleeve-buttons and a brooch," he said again ; " let us go on!"—and the young man won! "I have nothing more," smiled the pursued, as cold as a stalagmite. " I see a handsome ring upon your finger—an emerald—will you hazard it?" The old man laid it down after a pause. "It is my last ornament," he mut tered; "I show four queens." " And I?" shrieked the dark-eyed youth, tossing away gold, table, and chairs—" I show four kings ! The ring is mine. You won it from my father, whom you murdered. His blood fell where you stand, and where I will have yours." They grappled at once ; knives flashed in the dark, close cabin, and pistols clicked and snapped. The boat's offi cers and the bystanders dashed in and tore them apart, and they would have beaten the young man that his hand_ was raised against gray hairs. " Give de boy faih play !" cried an old negro steward. "I knows 'em boff! Dese eyes saw de fader of de young Mars's stretched at de oder's feet. Let 'em ashore, Captain. Give each of dem a knife, and let de boat go on !" They placed Ahem on the slippery dike—a marsh on one side, were slimy alligators lay.basking, and on the other the broad, turbid Mississippi. The pas sengers crowded aft; the great hulk of the steamer drove on. - • They fell upon each other in the clear lightof the after noon ; their kaives glittered an instant, LANdASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 30, 1865. and the avenger stood alone t .silth the gray hairs at his feet. A boat, coming down the river, put in for the solitary tourist, and the rival vessels began to measure speed. Their crews buoyed them on with a wager and huzza. They summoned every inch of steam to whirl their gleaming wheels, and the timbers in either craft trembled like shipwreck. There was a booming crash, agush of vapor and fire, and shrieks piercing the sky and river —the hindmost steamer burst into frag ments; the avenger and the avenged were equal! A French Marriage Contract. In a Paris Court, last month, a count and countess brought suit to Stop the marriage of their daughter Helen with one Charles D—, a man in moderate circumstances. They urged that the daughter was insane, and, in proof thereof, offered the contract of marriage printed below. The Judge held that this contract was no proof of insanity, and ordered the marriage ceremony to be performed at once. The count and countess left in great disgust. Here is the contract: Art. I.—Loving each other, and know ing each other well enough to be certain that one cannot be happy without the other, we join ourselves together to live forever hereafter as good married peo ple. She will be I and I shall be she, he will be 1 and I shall be he. Art. 2.—Charles—l promise Helen to devote all my mind, all my strength, and my whole being to the purpose of maintaining her, and the children that she may give me, honestly and decently. Art. 3.—Helen—l promised Charles to second him in keeping our household from' want and difficulty ; with that view, I shall make economical habits a duty. Art. 4.—Charles—l admit that I am sometimes hasty and violent; I hope to be excused for any Ridden burst of anger. Helen—lt will, perhaps, be hard to en dure, but the condition is acceded to. Art. s.—Helen—l must also be par doned something. My temper is a little uneven, and I am greatly disposed to be ealous. Charles—l will not mind caprices, if they are not too frequent. As to the other fault, I am disposed to rejoice at it, rather than otherwise, for a jealous person is not likely to give cause for jealousy. Art. 6—Charles and Helen—We are persuaded that, between lovers,disputes, and coolnesses almost always arise from petty causes. On this account, we mu tually promise never to follow our own desires in things of small importance, but always to give way to each other. Helen—ln important matters it will be right that Charles should decide, for he has more knowledge and judgment than I. Charles—Helen is too modest. I steal never decide anything without consult ing her, and either converting her to my views or adopting her's, if I think them best. Art. 7.—As a consequence of the last preceding article, each of us shall always be dressed according to the taste of the other. Art. B.—The words " I will," " I ex pect," " I require," and other similar expressions, are absolutely erased from our dictionary. Art. P.—Charles will honor his wife that she may be honored by others. He will always exhibit•toward her esteem and confidence, and will be especially careful never in her presence to allow any advantage oNier her to any other woman upon any point whatever. Art. 10.—We shall ever bear in mihd that want of cleanliness and attention to personal appearance must necessarily produce repugnance and disgust. Neat ness is to the body what amiability is to the soul. It is that which pleases. Art. 11.—Helen—The majority of women nurse their own children. I hope Charles will approve of my per forming my duties as a mother. Charles—l approve, subject to the doctor's advice. Art. 12.—Charles—Helen will take great care not to spoil our children's in tellects in their early years. She must not talk, or suffer to talk to them any of that nonsense which gives false ideas and dangerous impressions throughout life. Helen—l will pay great attention 'Co this point. A rt.l3.—Although our mutual tender ness is a guaranty that we shall never fail in the engagements hereinbefore set forth, each of us will keep a copy of these presents, and, in case - of the breach of any article, shall be entitled to lay it before the other party to remind him or her of the covenants entered into. Art. 14.—Inasmuch as neither will have anything that does not belong to the other, there is no occasion to take any account of each to the common stock. Affection and courage, our only fortune, cannot be counted, and each of us will endeavor to bring as much as possible. Done in duplicate at Paris, in the year of grace 1864. With all my heart, CHARLES D—. With all my heart and for all my life, HELEN, Future wife of Charles D—. Why is the first month after marriage called the "honey moon ?" Doubtless on account of the sweet lunacy which controls the heads of the parties during that brief and delightful period. What a pity that they should ever get quite rational again ! that sentimentality should give place to sentiment, senti ment to ,ensc:, love yield to logic, and fiction to fact, till the happy pair are reduced from the Eden of romance to the Sahara of reality—from Heaven to earth—and perhaps a peg lower ! Strange as it may seem, there have been couples who have quarrelled in the first month of matrimony, and have got back to their astonished parents be fore the good mqther had fairly done weeping, (and rejoicing too) at her daughter's departure. Their " honey moon" soured at the full of her thorn, and became emoon of vinegar, instead. A bad omen that! There was much sense and propriety in the text which an ancient clergyman chose for a wed ding sermon. It was taken from the Psalms of David, and read thus : "And let there be peace while, the moon endur eth." • A Chicken Diet. Among the patients which Dr. S had at one time, was one to whom while still under the Doctor's care, it chanced that hewith DoctorS—, and a num ber of other friends, was invited to a gentleman's dinner party, given by a mutual acquaintance. The principal dish was fowls, and as the patient seton the right of the host, the platter was passed to him first. The man helped himself very freely—more so than polite ness allowed—not only to the annoy ance of the host, but of Dr. 5 also, who happened to sit at the end of the table, and began to think his chance was slim. Gazing for a few moments at the contents of the patient's plate, the blunt man asked, in a tone of half rebuke, half ridicule— " Rallo, Jones, what are you doing 7 ,, " Why, Doctor you told me I must ' eat chicken," the patient replied. • " Yes, I know I did ; but I didn'ttell you to make a hen-coop of 'yourself," retorted the_ min of physic, amid the roar of the entin table. The Roney Moon g#l,scrliancouo. The. Cumberland County Murder Trial. The Ruperts, (three brothers—How. ard Lewis and Henry), who were tried_ in Cumberland county for the murder of a man named Wilson Taggert Van arsdal, -were sentenced by the court on Wednesday of last week. Their coun sel had entered a motion for anew trial, at the April term of the court, and filed their reasons. This motion was to have been argued, but, when it was called up, the counsel for the prisoners, in open court, withdrew their motion and de sired that sentence be pronounced. We publish below Judge Graham's address in passing sentence upon Howard Ru pert, who was convicted of murder in the first degree. The other two were convicted of murder in the second de gree, and sentenced, one to three years, and the other to six years in the Eastern Penitentiary : SENTENCE OF HOWARD RUPERT, DE- LIVERED BY HON. J. H. GRAHAM. After a trial before ur... impartial and an intelligent, jury of your own selec tion, defended by learned and eloquent counsel, whose ability and energy were exerted in your cause, with an earnest ness commensurate with the magnitude and solemnity of the issue, you have been lound guilty of the crime of mur der in the first degree—the most aggra vated offense known to the criminal laws of our Commonwealth. It is seldom in the history of criminal jurisprudence that so clear a case of a previous intent to kill is so satisfactorily proved by so many witnesses. Your victim was a deserter from the United States army, and this was the pretext used to murder him. On the 13th De cember last, you or your brother Lewis, in your presence, declared thatyou were going to Carlisle, to get authority to take Vanarsdal dead or alive. Soon after this you and Lewis went to Car lisle, and solicited authority from Col. Henderson, the Provost Marshal of the district, to arrest Vanarsdal. Col. Hen derson authorized you to do so. You then solicited written authority, which Col. Henderson refused to give you, say ing that under the President's procla mation, every citizen was authorized to arrest and deliver over to the military authorities deserters from the army. Ou the 31st December, 1864, you and your brotherg, Lewis and Henry, went to Centreville, where the-deceased re sided. You met him in Mr. Redsecker's hotel, where a number of persons were present in the same room. You made no attempt to arrest him there, but after remaining some time, you permitted him to go out and walk down the road toward his own house. You and your brothers then got into your spring wagon, drove rapidly past Van arsdal, and getting out placed your selves on the sidewalk on which the deceased was approaching you. When he came - up, your brother caught him, or laid his hand on him, and said, "You are my prisoner." Vanars dal said, " How so?" Lewis, without attempting to explain why he was a prisoner, or the cause of his arrest, re plied, " Well, you are." The deceased threw up his arm, disengaged himself from Lewis, and walked down the road, some of the witnesses say slowly, then rapidly, toward his home. Without further etlin•t to detain him, you drew your revolver, called to him to stop, and immediately shot him, the ball passing through his body, causing death in about 45 minutes. If the evidence closed here, charity might suppose you did ndt, intend to take the life of your victim, although the act of shooting was rash and cruel, and not j uslfttied by the circumstances detailed by the witnesses. But the darkest part of the tragedy was your conduct to the dying man, and your declaration to several witnesses that you intended to kill him. After the mortal wound was inflicted, and when unable to walk, you and your brother Lewis dragged him toward his own house, your brother Henry bring ing up the wagon, to take the deceased to Carlisle, You refused, when at his door, to take him into the house ; but insisted on taking him to Carlisle, until the physician, summoned by his agonized wits, directed you to take him in. You would not even then allow the dying mat the comfort of a bed, but laid him on , the kitchen floor, and when his wife brought a pillow to put under his head, you said there was no use putting it under his head, for you were going to take him to Carlisle.— You then attempted to draw on his boots, and when you failed to get them on asked•his wife for over-shoes, and said if had none you would take him without them, for you were bound to :ake him to Carlisle. ThiS induced a piteous appeal from the dying man to your brother Lewis. He appealed to him, saying, " Lew, you are a man.— For Christ's sake don't let him take me to-night." This was followed by au appeal to your sympathy by his wife, who asked you if you had no family, or had no sympathy foi her or her little children. To these earnest and agoniz ing appeals of your dying victim and his sympathizing wife, your heart was cold-and flinty as the nether mill-stone, and your only reply was, " When I en list, and take the bounty and desert, I would thank any man to shoot me." But the evidence of your guilt is not confined to the circumstances under which the mortal wound was inflicted, nor your inhuman conduct toward the dying man after it was inflicted. With the boldness of a wicked and depraved heart, regardless of social duty'and the consequences of crime, you declared to different persons your intention to kill the deceased, in language too plain to be mistaken. On the same evening you killed Van arsdal, you said to a witness that they wanted him in town, and you thought you would go up and fetch him ; that he would not go civilly; he was like an ox, and you shot him; that you did not pity him d—n bit; that. you showed witness your pistol and said when you went to hunt large game, you generally kept it well loaded. To another you said you pitied the family, but did not care a d n for Vanarsdal, and when asked if you could not have shot so as to have crippled him, you said you aimed to fetch him. To Mr. Hem minger, who remarked to you, this is a sad affair; it is a pity you did not shoot a little lower, and cripple him and not kill him ; you replied when you made up your mind to do a thing you gener ally went through with it—or in other words, that you had made upyourmind not to cripple, but to kill Vanarsdal, and you went through with it. To an other witness, when asked on your way home, thesame evening, where Vanars dal was, you said he was dead ; he was on his bed dead—just where he ought to be, and."you would learn him to take bounty and then desert, and with un disguised malignity, called upon God to damn the victim of your crime. We have alluded to some of the evi dence of your guilt; not to lacerate your feelings, or wound your sensibility —which, if not foreign to your nature and your perceptions of right and wrong are not obliterated from your con science, you must feel the remorse of your guilt and crime—but to impress upon you the justness of your convic tion, and that your own 'declarations, after the commission of the act, clearly prove a previously formed intention to kill the deceased. By the laws of our Commonwealth, the wilful and deliberate murderer is punished with death, and the Supreme Law Giver of the Universe hath de clared, that" whosoever sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed." In an experience of many years, in our criminal courts, I have never witnessed a case where the previously formed in-. tent. to kill was more clearly proven by the prisoner's own declarations. If our criminal courts are not to become a -farce, intended only,. by the solemnity of a trial, conviction, and sentence, to frighten, but pot to punish, the bold, daring murderer who, in thelace Of day, in.the presence of many witnesses, and deliberately, without provocation or excuse; sends; a bullet. through .victim, then we.ndatenish you to, pre pare for eternity. Your days on earth may soon be numbeiecl, and in the language of solemn earnestness, wesay to you, prepare to meet thy God! It now becomes our solemn duty to pronounce the sentence of the law upon you, which is That you, Howard Rupert, be taken hence by the Sheriff of Cumberland county to the jail of said countor,.from whence you came, and from thence to the place of execution, within the walls or yard of the jail of the said county of Cumberland, and that you be there hanged by the neck until you . be dead ; and may God have mercy on your soul. An Extraordinary Career—An Insurance Agent with Pen Wives—Re Bangs Hit,- self with a Pair of Drawers. • [From the Cedar Fall (Iowa) Gazette.) Last fall there appeared in this city one Frank N. Case, agent for a mutual fire insurance company, located at Madi son, Wisconsin. He represented him self as a single man, and paid his ad dresses to the daughter of an esteemed and intelligent family, the name of which we omit, by special request.— The parents did not favor the suit, Case being almost a stranger, and his age, nearly forty, was deemed unsuitable for the young madien of scarcely twenty years. However, he succeeded in win ning the girl's affections, and she, viewing him through the roseate hue of her girlish love, with her guile less, unsuspecting nature, believed him all that her fancy painted him. The parents, being determined to prevent the match, availed them selves of a temporary absence on the part of Case to send the girl to friends at Strawberry Point, Delaware county, to get her out of the way._ On his return, Case, by some means learned her where abouts, when he immediately sought her. The result was, that the young girl, away from home and the loving care which would have saved her, yield ing to specious pleading of an artful villain, and consented to a clandestine marriage, which was effected at Delhi, in this State, on the .oth day of April last. Soon after themarriage Case, and she who supposed herself his honored wife, returned to her parents at this place, who, seeing that further opposi tion would be useless, received them kindly and eohlially. So matters passed on until a montl - or six weeks ago, when the father of the lady was inform ed by a citizen of this place that Case had a wife living in Wisconsin at the time of his marriage here. As might be expected, this intelligence fell with crushing weight upon a family whose name was above reproach, and noone of whose members had ever suffered even the shadow of dishonor to fall on their do mestic hearth-stone. The father im mediately began investigating the mat ter, and found the information but too true. Cautiously he went to work to collect the evidence, having obtained which, he had Case arrested the early iart of this week. He bad his exami- nation yesterday before Justice Crosby, J. B. Powers appearing for the State and A. F. Brown conducting the, de fence. The facts developed the ex amination, and learned from other-re liable sources, prove Case to be a villain of the darkest dye. It is satisfactorily ascertained that he married not less than five different women in Vermont and contiguous States, before commenc ing his career in the West. At onetime he was paying his addresses to the sister of a lady now living in this city, and she was about accepting him, when, at the advice of friends, she wrote down to another part of the State where he hail been living, for the purpose of inquiring into his character. The answer returned was that he had a wife living there, and two or three children. A happy circum stance would it have been for the girl whom he dishonored here, had she taken similar precaution. Since he has been West, Case has married no less than four other women, and we understand that at the time of his arrest he was in tending to marry the fifth one, a young lady living in this State, not a great dis tance from Cedar Falls. He was ar rested, of course, on the charge of bigamy The plea of the defendant was a novel one, remarkable for its bare-faced shame fulness, its unqualified acknowledg ment of heinous crime. The defense was this : In 1860 Case married one Lenora Cady, who he says deserted him. Shortly afterwards he married Hannah Sutherland, the only daughter of a wealthy farmer of Green county, Wis- cousin. Some time after this marriage he procured a divorce from Lenora Cady. He now claims that he did not commit bigamy in marrying the lady in this place, because Hannah was not his lawful wife, lie having married her before he had procured a divorce from Lenora. He acknowledged thathe had committed bigamy, but it was in Wis consin and not in lowa, therefore the Court had no jurisdiction in the case, and should discharge him from custody. The prosecution offered in evidence a certified copy of the marriage certificate showing that Case had been married in legal form to Hannah Sutherland, and as the marriage with the lady here was also proved, he clearly stood convicted of bigamy, and was held to bail in the sum of fifteen hundred dollars for his appearance at the next term of the Dis trict Court, in default of which lie was committed to the County Jail. There is no doubt but that Case was divorced from Lenora, and not until after he had married Hannah, as he had a certified copy of the divorce bill in Court, but it being not properly authenticated, it was not admitted as evidence. It was a scene of thrilling interest when Case's last victim came into the court-room. So overcome was she by ' her sense of the degrading and humili ating position in which she was placed, that her emotions well nigh overcame her, and she had to be supported by her aged mother, who accompanied her. It was well that she was not obliged to bo on the witness stand, for we do not be lieve she could have passed the terrible ordeal. As soon as the mother saw Case she shook her list at him, and ex claimed, " Oh, you infamous villain! if I had a pistol I would shoot you dead on the spot!" and the clenched teeth and flashing eyes of the injured mother were a guarantee that she would not have been slow to execute her threat, had opportunity offered. Case sat there witha sneering smile on his darkswarthy face, apparently the least concerned of any one present. The girl is a noble looking specimen of womanhood, and those who know her say that she is as good as fair.. Young and inexperienced, she was unable to look beneath the mask which hid the incarnation of evil, and fell a victim to the wiles of one whose long experience rendered him compe tent topursue his nefarious designs with success. P. s.—Just as we go to press we learn that the prisoner committed suicide this morning. Last evening officer Sessions placed Case in charge of A. F. Brown, who took the prisoner to his room to pass the night. This morning Brown went to breakfast, leaving the man in bed, handcuffed, as he had been all night. About 8 o'clock officer Sessions got the key and went up to take charge of Case. He entered the outer office and passed to the bedroom, when he discovered Case hanging in the doorway, he hav ing taken a pair of drawers and tied them over the transom and about his neck.— The officer immediately cut him down and sent Brown, who had in the mean time come in, for a physician. Life, however, was extinct, and Case had passed beyond all reach of human laws,, to appear before thetribunal of the Most High. His self-destruction was a deter.' mined effort, as, when discovered, his feet rested upon the floor. He must have drawn up his knees, and kept the weight of his body upon his neck until strangulation took place, and he so far, gone that he could not stand upon his feet. He left a letter to his wife in this place; saying that he did the deed through love for her, and that her father had driven him to the act. Thus igno-' miniously has ended the early career of one Who bad blasted, the happiness of many a family circle •, and, as he was detested and abhorred while living, no: sympathy or respecLwill be attached to' his mezasory uow that he *dead. • • • NUMBER 34. A Banish Trick The world is ever prolific with artful Inventions, calculated for the deception of the innocent and unwary; . and in no country does the evil prevail to a fuller extent than in the land of Yankees.— This is a somewhat curious circum stance, and the following instance in point, which occurred recently in Bos ton, shows off, to a certain degree, the success of those who pursue this course for a Livelihood A shabby-genteel looking individual stepped into a saloon, a few evenings ago, where was congregated a tolerable crowd of loungers, calling for a plate of stewed oysters. Boniface replied that he had none stewed,but if the gentleman would • wait, he would soon prepare some. " 0 no," answered the individual, I'll take 'em raw." Accordingly the critters were placed upon a dish before him,. and after coolly helping himself toabout half a pound of crackers, and a like abundance of the seasoning ingredients, he proceeded to devour the oysters with a hearty gusto. Scarcely, however, had he commenced his onslaught, when a huge rat came bounding along the counter, kicking the vinegar from the plate in its passage, into the face of mine host, and bespat tering the bosom of our hero with the same commodity. Away lea Fed the frightened little creature off the opposite end of the counter, effecting its egress through aback door,and away liewland lord and loafers in hot pursuit, leaving the unknown customer in hot pursuit, leaving the remainder of his crackers and oysters. But after a temporary ab sence, they returned, each one boasting of the proximity of the fugitive rat, but none claiming the honor of having ac tually harmed it. They had hardly seated themselves, before out rushed another large speci men of the rat family, from the same direction, and off rushed the assembled crowd again, determined not to be frustrated this time. But again they returned with dejected visages from a fruitless chase ; when what was the consternation of Boniface to discover that his customer was among the miss ing! He had eloped—absquatulated— tetotally vamosed—leaving the chop ' fallen landlord minus his shilling's worth of oysters, and fifteen dollars in hard money taken from the drawer. , Imagine the ingenuity of the trick, reader—his chum outside had been let ting rats in at the window. Extracts From Bishop Coxe's Address. Bishop Cole, formerly pastor of Grace Church in Baltimore, make an interest ing address before the Episcopal Conven tion of Western New York, a few days ago. We give the following extracts : The question arises as to the restora tion of legislative unity with our brethren of the South. Essentialunity has never been for a minute suspended; and now, it seems to me, that nearly all questions between us and them will , be settled by the calling of the roll of the convention, and by their appearing and answering to their names. The case of the Bishop of Alabama, elect ed, and consecrated during the war, admits of no doubt, and presents no great difficulty. The validity of his con secration is acknowledged ; but certain measures will be necessary, as in the case of Bishop Seabury, who was conse crated in Scotland, to give the Bishop a canonical position. In due time, we cannot doubt, our Southern brethren will all be found - again in their places, and how shall they be received? Can there be any question? How was it iu the day when all Israel was restored to David? "Shall there be any man put to death this day in Israel ?" If our brethren have erred, surely they have suffered ; if any punishment is yet to be meted out to them, let us rejoice that the State, and not the Church, is the minister of wrath. It is our blessed privilege to forgive, and as Christians, at least, to remember no more what was committed to God's arbitration, and what, in His Providence, is settled and gone by. On the great national ques tions that divided us no man felt more deeply, nobodyi acted more conscienti ously than myself. I felt that there could be but one issue to the war, con sistent with truth and justice, the cause of humanity and our holy religion. But, I trust, such convictions were not pol luted by resentful impulses, nor by worse instincts of revenge, hatred and malice. And now, when all is over, what can a Christian find within him but a warm revival of old affections and friendships, and a long ing for the old fraternal - counsels and communings. Let the power of our re ligion be seen and felt by all our coun trymen. Let us address ourselves to the new and trying emergencies created by the new condition of things in the Southern States. Let us feel that such is the highest service we can now ren der to our country, and that it is in our power, as a church, to do more, perhaps, than others, in the way. And as nature has begun already to cover over the red' fields of war with her peaceful harvests and her refreshing verdure, so let Grace mantle the past with charity, and make the infirmities of men give place to the fruits of the spirit. Breaking a Bank•at Baden Baden On the 12th ult., the Trente-et-un bank at Baden Baden was broken. In reference to this extraordinary incident a correspondent of Galignani says : This was one of the most singular oc currences on record at the play-room here. The fortunate winner is a Malt ese, a man of exceedingly large fortune, who, while his piles of napoleons were at stake on the table, preserved the great est coolness throughout. Not amuscleof his face was seen to move when the awful words " La banque a saute," were pro nounced by one of the managers. The whole event scarcely lasted - a quarter of an hour, from three-quarters past 9to 10 P. M. On entering the room the player put a pile of napoleons on the red, and won eight times running. He then put another lot on the cou/eur, and won fourteen times running, which brought on the catastrophe, and finish ed the night's play. During the game his stake was twice in jeopardy, the bank having made thirty-one apres, but each time he won. At one deal the red on which he was then laying got the bad number, 9, and every one thought he must lose, when the bank got 40 ! At another deal the latter had two, and the bystanders then gave up the player as lost, but on turning the cards the red had one! When the an nouncement was made that the bank was broken, loud cheers arose from every side, and the uproar was tremen dous, the winner being the only man present unmoved. On the following day the lucky millionaire distributed numerous presents to the amount of several thousand francs in celebration of his victory, which for the thousandth time confirms the old adage that "where is much there will be more," or, as the French have it, L'eau va toujours a'la riviere. Washington's Will. A valuable and interesting document was delivered on Saturday by the Secre tary of State to the Clerk of the Court of Fairfax county. This document was the original " last will, and testament," of General George Washington, which has been for some time preserved in the State Library, and was saved from the clutches of the army of curiosity hunters who ,pilleged the building after the evacuation, only by the precaution of the late Secretary of the Commonwealth, Colonel George W. _l4lunford, whose veneration and affec tion for everything connected with the memory of Virginia's greatest son is participated in by every citizen of the Old Dominion, and prompted him to the preservation of this valuable souve nir. The - instrument is in the clear, legi ble handwritting of the General, whose precision and accuracy are evinced by by his signature being attached to every page, and the freedom from mistakes. _Every t is crossed, every i dotted, and the marks of the punctuality and :thoughtfulness which contributed so ../qeatly, to his success in every depart- Jnerit, of life are visible.in every line.-- 'Richmond Blilletin, 14th. t r ,OF ADVEILTfiffa; , Sla, a- year :per rui to fteriperoeirit*no , ' fractions of a ear. - - EitsZEszt .WP=soiccr, - Pitcrairricandflim 1 = 61 % o'n=r7Oir cents . s line thm. PATEINT, linaigdrzs and other adver's.bY liOne co a ctadnt,lYeir — e -Halt cn3 (1° . . Third colruarl, 1 year, BO 90 g,laarter c01umn,...-- .94nanizaa QUIDS. Of ten lines or less, . .. - .: 10 - Business :.year Linemen]) comae . Noricx7 Executors' 210t103.9 .. ........ 2.00 Admire stratoral 2.00 Assignees' otices, ................. 2.00 ' ri Auditors' notices, 1.50 Other, "Notices,' ten lines, or less, three, times,.... .50. Another, Stupendous Fraud Remarkable Case of Theft and Forgery —The Forger:praws Two Hundred and Four Thousand Dollars :in Railroad Bonds from a Hotel Safe on a Forged Receipt—The Culprit Arrested—His Confession and Recovery of the Prop erty—A Lady in the Case. [From Yesterday's N. Y. Herald.l One of the most remarkable cases of crime that ever transpired in this city was partially developed yesterday after noon, and involves two distinct eases of forgery, by means of which the perpe trator obtained a draft and bonds to the amount of nearly $204,000. It appears from the facts, as far as they have transpired, that some ten days ago a man thirty-two years of age, a car penter by trade, who had been a soldier in the army, and giving his name as George Gladwin, called at the postoffice in New Haven, Connecticut, and asked the clerk for the letters of Mr. Trow bridge, a gentleman doing business at No. 16 Long Wharf, that, city. The clerk, believing that the applicant was duly empowered to receive the letters, delivered them to him. Among this mail matter was a draft drawn on the Manhattan Company of this city by Messrs. Burdick, Frisbee & Co., brokers, 93 Wall street, for $3,966.76, payable to the order of Mr. Trowbridge, and bear ing date August 12, 1863. That night or on the following morning Gladwin started for this city, bringing with him a woman whom he is pleased to call "Emma," and took rooms at the St. Nicholas Hotel. Glad win deposited the draft he had taken from the letter of Mr. Trowbridge in the hotel safe for safe keeping, but withdrew it the next day, and proceed ed to the jewelry establishment of Mr. Thomas Kirkpatrick, corner of Broad way and Duane street, and asked to look at some jewelry. He finally select ed two beautiful gold watches and chains, a costly pearl set diamond breast pin, ring, &c., valued in all at $1,200, in payment for which he offered the draft in question,or,if Mr. Kirkpatrick prefer red, he could take his pay from somerail- . road bonds, which Gladwin exhibited. Mr. Kirkpatrick made inquiry concern ing the draft; and, becoming satisfied that it was genuine, accepted itaud gave Gladwin the diffi,•rence between the amount of the purchase and the face of the draft. Mr. Kirkpatrick deposited the draft in his bank for collection.— The Bank of the Manhattan Company subsequently pronounced the endorse ment of " H. Trowbridge" on the back of the draft to be a forgery. One of the bank officers i m med i ately called on Capt. Jourdan, of the Sixth precinct, and im parted to him such information concern ing the matter as was in his posses sions. The captain soon obtained a minute description of Gladwin, and hearing that Ile had returned to New Haven last Thursday with his traveling comparibui, Enuna, despatch ed officer Wooldridge after him. On reaching New Haven detective Wool dridge carefully proceeded with the business he had in hand, and learned that Gladwin hail ofired for sale a watch to a man named Bradley, with whom he was on intimate terms. A strict watch was kept on Gladwin's boarding-house, and on Monday eve ning officer Wooldridge succeeded in arresting him, and finding in his posses sion all the jewelry lie had obtained from Mr. Kirkpatrick. The prisoner was placed on board the first train for New York yesterday morning, and arrived here in the afternoon. I n acouversation with Captain Jourdan:the prisoner stated' that he had found the draft, with seven $l,OOO bonds of the Tiffin and Fort Wayne Railroad Company and other papers, in Broadway, and had left the bonds at the store of Messrs. Kohlsaat Brothers, corner of Broadway and Reade street, till he should call for them. The prisoner also confessed to forging the name of Mr. Trowbridge on the back of the draft. Of course, the captain did not believe that part of the prisoner's story where he stated that he had found the draft and bonds in the street, and intimated in an unmistakable manner that it was useless to attempt to deceive him, as he knew the whole truth of the mat ter. This brought the accused to terms, I and he frankly confessed that he had ob i tained two hundred and four thousand dollars' worth of the Tiffin and Fort Wayne Railroad Company's bonds from the safe in the St Nicholas Hotel, with out the knowledge of the hotel propri etors or any of the clerks. The plan adopted by Gladwin to possess himself of the bonds, and that, too, without ex citing the suspicions of the persons having charge of the safe, shows him to be an expert in - that line of business. As the draft which Gladwin had deposited in the safe was returned to him he saw a large package in the iron receptacle addressed to Aaron Smith, and carefully noted the handwriting on the package. In giv ing a receipt for the draft Gladwin again saw the signature of Mr. Smith on the receipt book. This operation of de positing and withdrawing the draft from the safe was repeated several times by Gladwin, and after having become familiar with Smith's style of writing the accused took seine blank cards and practiced writing " Aaron Smith" on them till it was almost l a fat simile of the genuine. This being accomplished, Gladwin boldly approached the safe and asked for Aaron Smith's pack age. The clerk, not suspect ing anything wrong, delivered it to him, when he gave a re ceipt in the name of Aaron Smith, and walked away with the bonds, which he deposited elsewhere. These facts hav ing been obtained by Captain Jourdan, he sought still further information concerning the whereabouts of the bonds and succeeded in fearing where the prisoner had left them. Accordingly yesterday afternoon, the bonds, which belonged to numerous parties, were re covered and taken possession of by Capt. Jourdan. Gladwin whose appearance is far from being prepossessing is in prison await ing a formal complaint, which, it is ex pected, will be' preferred against him this morning before Justice Hogan. Another singular circumstance con nected with this case is the fact that the clerks of the St. Nicholas Hotel had not been made aware of the alarming mis take committed by them in delivering the bonds to the wrong man till in formed of their felonious abstraction from the safe by Capt. Jourdan. yester day afternoon. They scorned to think it impossible that such an error could have occared. A Snake Story Mr. M. is very much in the habit of "drawing the long bow." One of his stories is as follows : " Did you ever see one of these hoop snakes?" " No," says the listener ; " I didn't think there was any such things." "Oh, yes!" says Mr. M., " I've seen one. Me and my hired man was down there in the home lot, by the side of the road, and wc.seen something rolling down the hill, and says I, ' I guess that ere must be one of them hoop snakes coming along.' My hired man he was afeared, and climbed up a tree; but I took my hoe in my hand, and went out and stood side of a tree in the road, and when he came along I stuck out the hoe handle, and he hit it a slap, and made a noise jest like a pistol ; and, sir, it warn't mor'n a minute after that are hoe-handle was swelled up as big as my leg! • —About the hardest case ever heard of was a murderer named Stone, exe cuted many years since in Exeter. Just before the rope was placed round his neck,die requested the sheriff to give him a mug of ale. The request being 'promptly attended to, he took the cup, and commenced blowing the froth-from the ale. "What are you doing that for?" nervously asked the sheriff. "I3edause," returned the perfect wretch, "I don't think froth is biealthy.ll
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