- 65 k g, PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY L' 00: P E S A lir DERSON ojk CO. J. M. COOPER, H. G Sm=, ALFRED E3ANDERSON Wm. A. MORTON, TERMS—Two Dollars per ,tianum, payable all cases.id advance. • OFFICE SOUTHWEST COENKEi. OF CENTRE -QUARE. tra-A.ll letters on business should be ad tressed to COOPER. SANDERSON & CO. Vottni. The Voice of Pestilence WRITTEN BEFORE THE CHOLERA VLSITATION OF 1832. Breathless the course of the Pale White Horse, ' Bearing the ghastly form— Rapid and dark as the spectre bark, When it sweeps before the storm ! Balefully bright through the horrid night Ens,nguiued meteors glare— Fiercely the spires of volcanic tires Stream on the sulphurous air Shadesofthealain through the murderer'sbrain ' Flit terrible and drear— Shadowy mid swi t t the blark storm drift Doth trample the atmosphere ! But swifter than all, with a darker pall Of terror around my pat i I have arisen from my lairrpless prisOn, Slave of the high God's wrath ! A deep voice went !rum the Firmament, And It pierc , tl the eaves of Earth— Therefor.. I carne on my wings of flame From the dark. place of my birth And it said: "Go from the South to the North Over ytin wandering ball— Sin is toe King of the doomed Thing And the sin-beguiled must fall !'• Forth from the gate of Lite Uncreate, Front the portals of the Abyss, From the caverns dim where vague forms switn, And shapeless chaos ! From Hades womb—from the Joyless tomb Of Hurebus and el , l night— From the unseen deep where death and sleep Brood in their myst.c in ight— I come—l come—before the are dumb The nations aghast for di, Lo ! I have passed, as the desert blast— And the millions of earth lie dead ! A voice of fear from the hemisphere Tracketh me where I fly— Earth weeping aloud for tier widowhOOd— A wild and desolate cry ! Thrones and dominions beneath ray pinions Cower like meanest things— Melt from my presence the pride and the pleas ance Of parmr-strieken kings! Sorrow and mourning supremely scorning, My throne in the boundless atr— M chosen shroud in the dark plumed cloud Which tire whirling breezes hear ! Was I not, borne on the wings of the morn From the jungli s ofJessore, Over the plain of the purple main To the lar Mauritian shore ? To the Isles tridch sleep on the sunbright deep Of the coral paved sea ; Where the blue waves welter beneath the shell en Of Heaven's serenity From the womb of the waters, a thirst for slaughters . I rose that ildrilt to sate— These green isles are graves iu the waste of the waves, Their beauty Is desolate ! From tine wide Elyrthrean the noise of my plena Rolled on the Southern. blast— Eternal Ta urtus made answering chorus, From the glaciers lone and vast ! Did I not pass his granite mass, And the rigid Caucasian hill— Over burning sand>—ov?•r frost chained lauds, Borne at my own wild will ? Then hark to the beat of my hastening feet, Thou shrilled in the sea— Where are thy dreanks that the ocean streams =Would be safety unto thee ? Awaken ! awaken ! lily wings are simken— Athwart the troubled sky Streams the red glance of illy meteor lance, And the glare of any eager eye' Harken, ob h.irk en ! my cone ins shall darken The light of I festal cheer ; In the storm-reeked home, on the Northern • foam, Nursling of Ocenn—hear ! litcrarm. The Broken Tow Twilight was darkening into night, the first faint star of evening gleamed from the far blue heavens, and the hush and repose of nature seemed too holy to be broken by the strife tlf human pas sions; yet how painfully did the quiet of that evening scene contrast with the passionate grief of a young heart mourn ing over its first sorrows. Ellen Sinclair was a newly wedded bride. She was but seventeen; the youngest daughter of her father's house, and the spoiled pet of the whole family, -her life had passed as one long day of sunshine and flowers. She had been wooed by one she had known from childhood, and with the consent of their mutual friends they were united. The day after their marriage the bridal pair left her father's house for the resi dence of Mr. Sinclair, in one of the in terior counties of Virginia. A few hap py weeks passed, when Sinclair pro- posed to his bride to visit a gorge in one of the neighboring mountains, from which the rising sun frequently pre sents the singular aspect of the looming of the mountains—the same phenome non which is witnessed in the straits of Messina, and known by themore poetic name of Fata Morgana, or the castles of the fairy Morgana. Ellen was delight ed with the proposed e,xcursion, and searchettevery book in the house which afforded any information on the sub ject. This excursion, which promised so much pleasure, ended in despair and death. They reached the desired spot in safety. The morning was favortible to their wishes; the ascending vapors caught the rays of the rising un and formed themselves into the most gor eous and fantastic scenes. Ellen was so much absorbed in this wonderful and magnificent spectacle, that she for got the caution that Sinclair had given her at the moment of mounting her spirited steed. He turned from her side an instant to speak to the servant who followed; the movement startled her horse ; the rein was lying loose on his neck, and feeling himself free from a guiding hand, he dashed off at full speed. Sinclair and the servant followed, but were unable to overtake her. Fortu nately she met a gentleman who suc ceeded in stopping her perilous career. Sinclair checked his horse too suddenly, that he might express his thanks to her preserver. The animal threw him with great violence. He was conveyed home in a senseless state, and surgical assist ance hastily summoned, but the force of the fall hail inflicted some internal injury which bullied the skill of the physician. It was beside his bed, iu that calm twilight, that the young wife knelt with scarce a hue of life upon her fea tures. " Oh, Ellen, my beloved, calm your self—this sorrow unmans me," murmur ed the dying man, passing his hands caressingly over the head which was bowed upon his pillow. A deep suffocated sob was the only re ply to his words. "It is hard to die," he continued, " when I was looking forward to years of much tranquill happiness with you, my sweet Ellen ; but it is the will of Heaven, my best beloved, and we must submit." "Oh, Henry, my own Henry, you must go down to the cold, cold grave, where T. can see you no more—never more hear the tones of your dear voice. Oh, it will break my heart," was the al most inarticulate reply. " My poor Ellen, this is a hard trial for you, but you are too young to grieve always. The thought is torture to me, but even you may love again—may wed another!" and his voice was nearly stifled with painful emotions. " Never, never ! Oh, Henry, how can you harrow my soul at this awful mo ment with such a supposition? Wed another!' Give the wreck of my buried affections to another ! Oh, no, no !—the thought would kill me." " I doubt.not . you think so now, love ; but time works strange changes in this world of ours. We know not what we may do. I wish to exact no promise from you. The thought is bitterly pain ful to Me, but should your present views • change, I do not wish that the reproach of a broken vow should mar your peace of mind." - "Henry, hear me!" said Ellen, in a polemn . tone.. " Should I ever so far for get my faith 'astolend my l',E.fl.?'__ l .'''''''''_.:-:'''''.itlr4ti**g . . VOLUME 66 ear to the language of love, to the voice of affection for another, may your form on my bridal evening come to me and reproach me for my faithlessness." A bright smile passed over the face of the dying man. He murdered— " Repeat those words again my Ellen; they take from death its sting—in Heaven you will be all my own. For give my selfishness, dearest ; but I have so loved you, I cannot think another shall win " His voice ceased to articulate, and again the deep tones of the young mourner thrilled the air, with the repe tition of these awful words. As they passed her lips, she felt the. hand that clasped her's relax its grasp—a faint, fluttering consciousness seemed to hover a moment on his features, and in another instant they wore the calm and passionless repose of death. Ellen Sinclair buried herself in the seclusion of her own abode. A calm and gentle melancholy succeeded the first violence of her grief, but she be trayed no desire to mingle with the world. Clad in the deepest mourning, she was seen nowhere but at church ; and those who looked at her felt deep sympathy for one so young and so bit terly bereaved. Vainly had her own parents sought to draw her from her solitude. Two years passed away and after many fruitless efforts they at length succeeded in obtaining a promise of a visit from her at the annual re union of their family on Christmas, for that season is still held as a festival in many parts of Virginia. Ellen was once more beneath the roof of her father, and many and painful were the emotions which struggled in her bosom when she looked around and remembered the last time she stood be, side her native hearth, she was a gay and happy bride. Those who looked on her could not avoid remarking the change which two years haul wrought in her appearance. The girl just budding into maturity had expanded into the beautiful and self possessed woman, with a quiet grace of manner, an air of pensive reserve which was extremely captivating. Her parents were worldly minded people who could not bear that their fair daughter should pass her life in the sol- itude to which she had doomed herself. They surrounded her with company, sought to amuse her mind and draw it from the terrible calamity which had destroyed her drawing hopes of happi ness, and they succeeded - sufficiently to implant in her Mind a distaste to the idea of returning to her late abode. Week after week passed, until months were numbered, and she began to think it her duty to remain with her parents. She was their youngest child, and the only one without ties which severed them in„a measure from their paternal roof. "Ellen, my darling," said her father, when she spoke of returning home, "you will not again forsake us? We are old, and you are the only child who is free to remain with us. You must live here —I cannot think of permitting you to retan to that lonely home of yours." " It is lonely," replied Ellen ; " and I fear that after breaking through my usual habits, I shall find it difficult and wearisome to resume them. Yet, my dear father, if I consent to remain, there is one request I must make." " What is it, my daughter—are we not ever mindful of your wishes?'' " Ah, yes, dear father, more mindful than I deserve. But (and hervoice sank to a low, agitated whisper) there must be no looking forward to a second mar riage for me—no attempt to alter my views on that subject. I have made a vow to the dead, and it must be held sacred." " What !" exclaimed her father, "was Sinclair ungenerous enough to exact from you a promise not to marry again —young and inexperienced as you were, too ?" "All! no, father, wrong him not—he was too kind, too noble. He asked no promise—l made it voluntarily—and as the words left my lips, his spirit de parted. Oh, no, my father, never ask me to break that vow—is a hallowed one." "Well, my darling, let it be as you wish. I shall prefer keeping you with us ; but at the same time, if you should ever meet with one you can love, and who is worthy of you, it will be very silly/to suffer a few words, uttered when you were scarcely conscious of their meaning, to prevent you from making the home of an honorable man happy. Why, child, your are only nineteen. Do you suppose that the death of one person, however dear, can chill your feelings into ice at that age?" "I must, then, in sincerity of soul, pray to be delivered from temptation," said the young widow with a faintsmile, "for I shall never marry again." As time passed on, Mrs. Sinclair could not help acknowledging that she was far happier than in her mountain soli tude. Her spirits were no longer wearied; she no longer felt that life was a burden she would gladly lay down. She need ed the excitement of society, and the social and highly cultivated neighbor hood in which her father's residence was situated, afforded every facility for its enjoyment. The third year of her widowhood was drawing to a close, when she received an invitation to the marriage of a favorite cousin, who would take no refusal. Ellen replied that if the bride would ex cuse her sombre dress and pensive face, she would attend and the concession was hailed as an omen of future success in drawing her into that world she was so peculiarly fitted to adorn. There was a motive for these efforts of which Ellen dreamed. She regular ly attended the church near her father's residence, and her mother had several times called her attention to a remark- ably handsome man who sat in the pew nearly opposite to them; but she had remarked that hi's — eyes frequently wan dered from his prayer book to her own face. His height and the turn of his head had reminded her of Sinclair, but there the resemblance ceased. The broad brow, finely chiselled fea tures, and clear dark eye, of the stran ger, were all unlike the youthful bloom of him who had won her young affec tions. She frequently heard Mr. Pey ton spoken of as a man distinguished endowments, who had spent several years in the south of Europe with an only and beloved sister, for the benefit of whose health the journey had been vainly undertaken. The circumstances had nearly passed from her,mind when she was introduced to him at the wed ' ding as the intimate friend of the groom. Peon had fallen in love with her from his casual view of her at church, aad the eulogiums of his friend's affi anced bride, who looked on Mrs. Sin clair as a "bright particular star," had deepened the impression. The circum stance of the marriage threw a romantic interest around her history, and when he looked on the youthful brow with a shade of passive pensiveness that seemed to breathe a hallowed charm over her beauty, he felt that she was the only woman he had ever known be fore to whom his heart could bow with the homage of affection. Yet how speak of love to one who yet wore the deepest mourning—who never joined in the mirth of the light-hearted? It would seem almost like sacrilege to breathe to her ear the wild passion that filled his heart, yet its very hopelessness appeared to add to its fervor. But ere long a new hope dawned on him. Ellen was surrounded by the gay and joyous of her own age. Her dispo sition was naturally buoyant; her spir its rose ; the cords she had believed for ever snapped, again thrilled to the touch of joy. When the bonds of grief were once severed, the reaction was complete: She still reverenced the memory of her first love, and if her heart had whisper ed that she could ever be faithless to his ashes, she would have shuddered with superstitious horror at the thought—, The possibility of breaking that solemn promise had never occurred to her—but time teaches many strange lessons. Peyton lingered in the neighborhood, a constant visitor at Wycombe, but his attentions were not sufficiently marked to attract the observations of others. Her own family were too desirous of the match to hazard the final success of the lover by alluding in any manner to his passion for her. Peyton won his way slowly but sure ly. The fair widow began unconscious ly to regret the vow which had ascend ed to heaven with the spirit of her dead husband. At length he spoke of love, and she listened with awe to the out pouring of a spirit which was too noble to be trifled with, and too highly appre ciated to be given up without a pang. He drew from her quivering lips the history of her vow, and divested of every feeling of superstition himself, he could not conceive that a few words ut tered in a moment of excited and ago nized feeling should stand between him and his hopes of happiness. He did not understand'the impressible and aginative temperament of the being who listened to his rea,oning, willing, nay, anxious to be convinced against the ev idence of her own feelings. Her parents agreed with the lover in his view of the case, and urged, on all sides, her own heart a traitor, Ellen yielded to their wishes and betrothed herself to Peyton. As the day appointed for her marriage drew near, the words of her vow ap peared to be ever ringing iu her ears. With restless :001 fearful spirit she saw the hour approach which was to witness her second espousal. Preparations were made for a splendid bridal. All the members of her family assembled beneath the paternal roof, and ever effort was made to divert her wind from dwelling on the phantasy hat possessed it. The appointed evening arrived, am the ceremony which made her the bride of another was performed. Several hours passed in dance and song. It was near midnight when Ellen found her self standing on the portico, in the bright moonlight, with Peyton by her side.— The gay throng within were still danc ing, and the sound of merry voices ming led with the burst of music that swept by on the dewy and fragrant air. Ellen started, as Peyton spoke beside her, and for the first time in several hours the re collection of her fatal vow intruded of her mind. "What a glorious night!" she re marked. " I never saw the moon shine with greater splendor." " May it prove a happy omen to us, fair Ellen," replied Peyton, and as he spoken he turned to a white rose hush, which had wreathed itself around one of the pillars of the portico, and culled several of itshalf-blown flowers. While he was thus employed, Ellen was gazing abstractedly on the fantastic shadows made by the trees in the yard. Suddenly she grasped the railing for support, and looked with eyes fascinated with terror on a white shade which seemed to . rise from an open space on which the moon's radiance was poured without obstruction from the surround ing shrubbery. The shadow arose slowly, and gradually assumed the waving outline of a human form wrap ped in the garments of the tomb. It approached the spot on which she stood, and the features of Henry Sinclair, wear ing a look of sad reproach, Were dis tinctly visible to her as the shade glided between herself and her newly wedded lord. - With a faint cry she would have fallen, had not Peyton turned and sprang forward in time to receive her senseless form in his arms. Long, long, was it before she re covered from her death-like swoon. She then related what she had seen, and clung to the belief in the reality of the visitation with such tenacity, that reasoning with her was useless, and it failed to calm her mind. Before another day had dawned she was raving in the delirium of a brain fever, and in one week after her ill-omened marriage, she was laid beside him whose spirit she believed had summoned her to join him. The incidents on which the foregoing pages are founded are literally true. That the supernatural visitation was the offspring of an overwrought imagina tion and superstitious mind, a real cause of monomania, there can be little doubt. The vagaries of an excited imagination are producing results.ou Mormons and Millerites quite as inexplicable to sober reason, as the catastrophe of the Broken Vow. Me • Next Wonnet Sensation The waterfall accommodation bonnet has had its day and is now about to pass away. The milliners have suffered greatly by the simplicity of the Fanchon, or waterfall bonnet, which was so easy to put together, that everybody made their own. They have, therefore, put their wits to work and have invented a new sensation for the coming season, which they denominate the Empire. It is described as a small, old-fashioned gypsy hat, with a satin ribbon passed straight across the round brim and tied down under the chin, a narrow, stiffeape, rounding out slightly from the bottom of the crown, and a long narrow veil hanging in a string from one side, with a border composed of fine leaves of rich blonde ; a little trimming on one side of superb ostrich tips, long narrow ends of ribbons to tie behind under the cape, and the funny brim perked up all around. It is undoubtedly cute," and so defi antly ugly, yet stylish and aristocratic, that one could adopt it unhesitatingly for its very oddity, and perfect scorn of all preconceived notions. The little •" mask" veils, which suited so well the round hats, and waterfall bonnets have been thrown aside, and long- veils 'of tulle, dotted with gold or steel, substi tuted. The veil is an indispensable of the bonnet. LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 4, 1865. THE BURGLARS CAUGHT A Bushman as a Thief Taker. We lived in a terrace at the time in. which our tale is laid, in what we may term a sub-district of London, for we were within five miles of Charing Cross, and the dark month of December was upon us. Robberies had been quite fre quent in our neighborhood, and no less than three hoiises out of the ten in the terrace had been entered by burglars and robbed, and yet no discovery of the thieves had taken place. So ably, also, had tlaeuwork of entry been accomplish ed, that, in no case, had the inmates been alarmed; and it was not until the servants descended in the morning that the discovery of a robbery was made. In two of these cases an entry had been effected through a pantry window, by removing a pane of glass, and cut ting a small hole in the shutter. This window was ou the ground floor, and could easily be reached, therefore, from outside. In the third robbery, an upper window was en tered by means of a knife, which forced back the fastening, and, of course, allowed the sash to be raised. So rapidly had the robberies occurred, that the whole neighborhood was alarm ed. The police shook their heads, and looked knowing, but did nothing, and what was much to be lamented, failed to find any clue to the robbers, who, they at the time asserted, were evident ly not regular cracksmen. Affairs had reached such a stage, that we used to sleep with a revolver close to our heads, when we happened to have a friend who came to stay with us a few days. This friend was an old jungle hunter, and was au fait atevery artifice by which the animal creation might be captured. He was delighted at the idea of having an adventure with burglars, and scorned the belief that they were more than a match in cunning for even the average bush hunter. It was in vain that we assured him it was au axiom that au accomplished robber could effect an entrance into any house; and that instruments were used of such a nature as to cut holes in doors without noise, and, in fact, that through roofs and sky lights, down chimneys, and up water spouts, an accomplished, burglar could easily enter the best defended house in the kingdom. Our friend's argument was that a burglar was a man on watch, who took advantage of the residents being asleep and unsuspecting; "but," said he, "let my suspicious be raised, and I will defy any burglar to enter my house without my having due warning; because, al though I may be asleep, still I hear his approach, and can then make my arrangements to welcome him." Although we were not desirous of having our house robbed, yet we wished much that our friend's confidence should be taken out of him. A few (lays after this conversation the police informed us that several sus picious characters had been seen about, and recommended us to be on the alert. Here, then, was a good opportunity to test my friend's skill and wakefulness ; so having informed him of the police man's warning I asked him if he felt confident to undertake the defense of the house. " Certainly," he replied ; "I only de mand a dark lantern, and stipulate that you have a pair of goloshes beside your bed. I also must go to bed last, and no servant is to go down stairs before me in the morning; nor is any one to walk aboutduring the night; then I will defy the burglars." Thus it was agreed that my friend was to act.the part of guardian, and was to commence his charge on the ensuing night. Three nights had passed and no alarms had occurred, and no robberies taken place, we began to think our alarms had been groundless; but our friend said that now was the time to be most guard ed, for that no wise burglar would rob them when he was expected ; besides, he said, we have not had a windy night yet; it is when doors and windows rumbled that robberies are best effected, thus, he said, he did not give up hopes of yet having something to say to the robbers before his visit terminated. I usually sleep very lightly, and there fore awoke readily on hearing a tap at my bedroom door during the fourth night of our watch. It was my friend's voice that answered me, and we were requested to come out at once. "As soon as I strike a lucifer match," I replied. "Nonsense, man; a light will spoil the whole thing. Come i 4 the dark; slip on a dressing gown and your go lohes, and come at once." I was soon yrovided as he wished, and ready to descend the stairs in the dark. " Now remember," said my friend, " there are seven steps to the first land ing, twelve others afterwards, so be careful to descend without noise." The night was boisterous, and many a window and door shook and rattled, so that the Slight noise we made in de scending the stairs was not sufficient to have alarmed even the mostkeen-eared listener. We descended to the ground floor, entered the pantry, and then standing perfectly still,devoted ourselves to listening. Ina very few seconds we heard a grat ing noise on the shutter, then an inter val of quiet, and again a noise; presently the window was presently raised, and again all was quiet. The noise of a heavy vehicle passing the house seemed to afford an opportunity for a more de cided effort, for while the rattle of the wheels was loudest, a crack sounded from the shutter, and we could hear that the bolt was forced, for the shutter was gently moved. " Don't stir till I do, and hold your breath if possible," whispered my friend in my ear. I found the latter a difficult request to comply with, for my heart was beating with rapidity, and thumping against my ribs in the most excited way ; still I stood quiet and trusted to my friend. Nothing could be more cautious than the proceedings of the robbers. The shutter was pushed back in the most slow and steady manner. Had there been even a bell fastened to it, I doubt whether it would have been made to ring. At intervals there was a rest from work evidently for the purpose of listen ing, and then one of the robbers placed his leg across the window sill, and light ly descended into the pantry. The night, even out of doors, was very dark, and in the corner where we stood it was black as Erebus. Our forms, therefore, were quite undistinguisliable, and the only chance of discovering us was by touching or hearing us. The firsf burglar was sod?' followed by a second, while'we couldhear that a third, who was outside, was to remain there on, watch. "Now, let's light up," said number two. "Not yet, till you push the shutter to," replied the other, "or the glim'll be seen. Then you come and hold the The shutter was quietly pushed to and both robbers moved away a few paces from the - window by which they entered. By the quiet way in which they walked, it was evident they were either without shoes, or had india rubber cov erings. Of their size or weapons we could see nothing, and I began to doubt whether our position was an agreeable one, as I was armed only with a sword; a weapon, however, I knew how to use while of my friend's means of defence knew nuthing. I had not long to wait, for a lucifer was struck by one of the men immedi ately, and the room consequently light ed up; at the same instant my friend drew up the side of his dark lantern and flashed the light on the faces of the two men, at the same time showing the muzzle of a revolver pointed toward them " If either of you move I'll put a couple of bullets in him," said my friend, as he placed his back against the window by which the men had entered. " Now, drop that crow-bar," he con tinued in a voice of authority ; " down with it; and you," he said to me, "pull open the shutter and shout for the )olive." The idea is usually entertained of a burglar is that he is a man of great size, strength, and daring, and thathe would, in an encounter, annihilate any moder ate,strian. When, then, the light re vealed the faces and the forms of the men we had captured, our humble self, although no great pugilist, yet felt able to defeat either of them if it came to a matter of fists; and I must own that the pale and astonished faces of the men were not indicative of any very great courage. Our shout for police was shortly an swered ; and the burglars, having been subdued by the sightof the revolver, the muzzle of which pointed first at oneand then at the other, were captured by the police, three of whOm were speedily on the spot, and conveyed to the lock-up, whilst we and a detective who had been brought down from London some days previously, examined the details by which the burglars had effected an en trance.- "You were very lucky to hear them, especially on such a night," said the de tective; " when once they're in they move like mice. We know them, and I expect they'll get seven years." The man was about correct, for one, the older offender, was sentenced to six, the other to five years' penid servitude. "It will, I suppose, be of no use try ing to sleep again to-night, for it's three o'clock," said my friend. "4 cannot sleep," was my reply, " and I am dying to hear how you found out that these men were approaching the MEE Being then of one mind, we Partly robed ourselves, lighted a fire in the kitchen, and soon being provided W,ith cigars and grog, got very comfortable, and satisfied with our work. My friend then began his account, which he gave much in the following words: " The burglar, as I told you, has usu ally the advantage of surprise; he can select the time at which he makes his attack, and if his proceedings are car ried on cautiously, he enters a house be fore he is heard. Few men would, how ever, venture to do so, unless they previously had good information as to the interior arrangements of the house; this they obtain either from the servants, tradesmen, or some one who visits the locality, or they come themselves as tramps, or with some trifle to sell. Thus if there are bells attached to the doors or windows, they find it out; and they know tolerably well the domestic ar rangements of the locality they propose trying their skill upon. There are, too, conventional methods of protecting a house, such as bolts, bars, chains, locks, &c., all of which require merely time and proper instruments to overcome. It therefore occurred to me that novelty and simplicity combined would be more than a match for the coarse intellect of the burglar, and thus I made my plans, which, you see, answered very well.'' " No doubt about that," we replied. " Well now, come up to my room," he continued, "and see the apparatus." We entered his room, and there, close beside his pillow was a tin box, in the bottom of which was a key. "This is nearly all the apparatus," he said ; "but you notice some thread fastened to the key. Trace that thread, and you will find it passes through that small bole in the sash. From there it goes down to the back yard, and now you will Comprehend my plan. I knew that no man could approach the back part of the house without walking up the back yard, which is only four yards wide. I therefore tied across the back yard, and about two feet from the ground, some fine black thread. This was made fast on the one side but slip ped through a loop, and led up to my window ou the other. The thread then passed the hole I had bored in the win dow-sash; and it was then made fast to this key. Under the sash I placed the tin box you see; and over the key was a bar to prevent its being dragged up more than six inches. Each night, before I went to bed, I just drew the string tight, and fastened it in the yard, taking care to free it before morning, so as to keep the plan a secret. If then, a man, or anything above two feet high, walked up the yard, the string was pressed against, the key was drawn up sharply against the bar, and the string broken when the key of course fell into . the tin box, making quite noise enough to wake me. Immediatelyafter the string or thread broke, it would fall to the ground and the person who hall done this would not have felt anything, the resistance being-so slight. I must own I should have preferred horse-hair to to thread, but as it was the latteranswer ed very well. I was fast asleep when the key fell, but immediately awoke, and taking my lantern outside my door, lighted it, and came to yours ; for I knew that a man only in the back yard could have dropped my key. So now you see how the burglars were trapped, for you know all the rest." " Certainly, you succeeded, and so we ought not to be critical," we replied. " But suppose they had entered by the front window, instead of by the back, how then?" " You see this thread," he said, grasp ing one that was near the door ; "pul it." I did so, and immediately a tin cup dropped into the hand basin. "That thread goes down stairs, and is fastened across the front window ; but I broke that off as I went out of my room, so that it should not impede my journey down stairs. Thus I could at once know whether a man was ap proaching the back door or had entered by the front window, and in either case, I think I could have captured him." Simplicity had certainly been adopted in the present case, but the means had shown themselves to be efficient. ` People are usually very silly," eon- nued our friend, " when they hear, or think they hear, suspicious noises of a night- The first thing they usually do is to light a candle, which proclaims to the robber that he has been heard and must escape; then they go about the house with this candle, and make a great noise, so that a man may have plenty of time to get away, or to hide himself. Instead of this, if a person were to listen intently, he would be able to hear any suspicious noises distinctly, and decide upon their cause ; then, as he must know his own house better than a robber he is the best off of the two in the dark, and when, after arming hiraseli, he has quietly opened his door, he May wait and listen until the robbers are heard moving around, when he may take such steps as may seem necessary. If every person were merely to plan what was to be done in case of robbers entering the house, and then were to carry out this if the occasion required it, burglary would be too dangerousaud unsuccessful a proceeding to be popular or profitable, and thus might be given up for a more honest means of obtaining a livelihood ; so that really we may con sider ourselves to have done the com munity at large a benefit when we cap tured one of these gentry ; whilst those who allow their houses to be robbed with impunity, jeopardise their neigh bor's property. The Colners From the Diary 01 a Detective During the year of 18-17 the West was flooded with a counterfeit coin. It was so well manufactured that it passed read ily. The evil at last became so great that the United States authorities re quested that a skillful detective might be sent to ferret out the nest of the coin ers. I was fixed upon to perform the duty. I had nothing to guide me. The fact, however, that the Chicago was the city where the counterfeit coin was most abundant, led me to suspect that the manufactory was somewhere within its limits. It was therefore, to the capital of the West that I proceeded. I spent five weeks in the city without gaining the slightest clue to the counterfeiters. I began to grow discouraged, and really thought I should be obliged to return home without having achieved ally result. One day I received a letter from my wife requesting me to send home some money, as she was out of funds. I went to the bank and asked for a draft, at the same time handing a sum of money to pay for it, in which there were several half dollars. The clerk pushed three of them back to me, saying, " Counterfeit." " 'What," said I, "you don't mean to tell me those half dollars are counter feit?" " 1 do." " Are you certain':" " Perfectly certain. They are re markably executed, but are deficient in weight. See for yourself." And he placed one of them in the balance against a genuine half dollar, and the latter brought up the former. That is the best counterfeit coin I ever saw in my life," 1 exclaimed, ex amining them closely. 't Is all the counterfeit money in circulation here of the same character as this?" "() dear, no," the clerk replied, "it s not nearly so well done. These are the work of the famous New York counterfeiter, Ned Willett. I know them well, for I have handled a great many in my time. Here is some of the money that is circulating here," he ad ded, taking half dollars from a drawer. " You see that the milling is not so well done as Ned Willett's, although this is pretty good too." I compared the two and found that he was right. I supplied the place of the three counterfeits with good coin, and returned the former to my pocket. A few days after this I received in formation which caused me to take a journey to a small village about thirty miles from Chicago. I arrived there at night and took up my quarters at the only tavern in the place. It was a wretched dwelling, and kept by an old man and woman, the surliest couple I think, it has ever been my lot to meet. In answer as to whether I could have lodging there that night I noticed the host gave a particular look at his wife, and after some whispering, I was in formed in the most ungracious mabner possible that I could have a bed. I have frequently in the course of my life been obliged to pu,t up with wretch; ed accommodations, so I did not.- allow my equanamity of temper to be destroy- ed by the miserable sleeping apartments into which I was ushered after I had finished my repast. The chamber was of small size, and certainly well ventilated, for I could see the stars through the roof. The bed was simply a bag of straw thrown into one corner of the room, without sheet or cov ering of any kind. This last fact, how ever, was not of much consequence, as it was summer and oppressively hot. I stood for more than an hour gazing out of the opening which served for a window. Before me was an immense prairie, the limits of which I could not see. The tavern in which I had taken up my abode appeared to be isolated from all other dwellings, and save the croak of the tree toad and the hum of the 10- cust, not a sound reached my ear. It was a beautiful moonlight night, so bright that I could see to read the smallest print. At last I began to grow weary, and throwing myself on my pallet I was soon plunged in deep slumber. How long I slept I know not, - but I was awakened by a dull sound, which re sembled some one hammering in the distance. I suppose it was the peculi arity of the sound which awoke me, for it was by no means loud, but con veyed to me the ideaof some one striking iron with a muffled hammer. I rose from my bed and went to the window. The moon was now in the western hor izon, by which fact I knew that it must be near morning. The sound I have before referred to reached me more dis tinctly than when in the back part of the chamber. It appeared to comefrom some outhouses which were situated a hundred yards from the house. Now I am naturally of an inquiring mind, and this soumVoccurring as it did in the middle of the night, piqued my curiosity, and I felt an irrepressible desire to go out and discover the cause of it. This desire, as the sound con tinued, grew upon me with such inten sity, that I resolved to gratify it at any price. I put on my booth, the only article of attire I had discarded, and cautiously NUMBER 39. opened the door of my chamber and noiselessly descended the ricketty stair case. A few steps brought me into the lower apartment, which I found entire ly deserted. I crept quietly to the win dow, and unfastening it without mak ing the slightest noise, was soon in the moonlight. Not a soul was visible, but the sound I have mentioned grew much more dis tinct as I approached the place from whence it proceeded. At last I found myself before a long low building, through the crevices of which I could perceive a lurid glare issuing. I stooped down and peeped through the key hole, and to my extreme surprise I saw half a dozen men, with their coats off and sleeves up, performing a variety of strange occupations. Some were work ing at a forge, others were su perin tending the casting of moulds, and some were engaged in the process of mining coin. In a moruentthe whole truth burst upon me. Here was the gang of counterfeit ers I was in search of, and the landlord and his wife evidently belonged to the same baud, for in one corner I perceiv ed them employed,—the man polishing off some half dollar pieces, and the wo man was packing the finished coin into. rolls. I had seen enough and was about to return to my apartment, when I sud denly felt a heavy hand placed on my shoulder, and turning my head around, to my horror found myself in the grasp of as ill-looking a scoundrel as ever es caped the gallows. " What are you doing here, my good fellow ?" he exclaimed giving me a shake. "Taking a stroll by moonlight," I re plied, endeavoring to retain my corn- " Well, perhaps you will just take a stroll inside, will you ?" returned the ruffian, pushing open the door, and dragging me in after him. All the inmates of the barn immedi ately stopped work and rushed toward us when they saw me. " Why, what's all this ?" jthey ex claimed. " A loafer I found peepin' outside," said my captor. " He's a traveler that came to the tavern last night and asked for lodging; the last I saw of him he was safe in bed," said the landlord. The men withdrew to a corner of the apartment, leaving one to keep guard over me. I soon saw they were in earnest consultation, and were evidently debat ing some important question. The man keeping guard over me said nothing, but scowled fiercely. I had not said a single Avord during all the time I had been in the barn. I was aware that whatever I might say would in all prob ability do more harm than good, and it has always been a maxim of mine, to hold my tongue when in doubt. At last the discussion seemed to be ended, for the blackest of the whole came forward and without any introduction exclaim ed, • "I say, stranger, look here, you must die !" I did not move a muscle or utter a " You have found out our secret, and plead men tell no tales." I was silent. " We will give you ten minutes to say yourprayers, and also allow you the privilege of being shot or hung. , ' Suddenly an idea struck me. I re membered something that might save my life. I burst into a vio i ltait fit of laughter, in fact it was hyst cal, but they did not know it. They looked at one another in amazement. " Well, he takes it mighty cool, any how," said one. " Suppose he don't think we are in earnest," said another. " Come, stranger, you had better say your prayers," said the man who had first spoken, " time flies." My only reply was a fit of laughter more violent than the first. " The man's mad," they exclaimed. " Or drunk," said some. " Well, boys," cried ',speaking for the first time, " this is the best joke I have ever seen. What hang a pal." " A pal—you a pal." " I an't nothin' else," was my ele gant rejoinder. " What is your name." "Did you ever hear of Ned Willet?" I replied. " You may be certain of that. AM' he the head of your profession ?" " Well, then I'm Ned." " You Ned Willet?" they all exclaim ed. "You may bet your life on. that," I returned swaggering up to the corner where I had seen the old woman count ing and packing the counterfeit half dollars. Fortune favored me. None of the men present had ever seen Ned Willet, although his reputation was well known to them, and my swaggering insolent manner had somewhat thrown them off their guard, yet I could plainly see that their doubts were not all removed. "And you call these things well done do you?" I asked, taking up a roll of the money. "'Well, all I have to say is that if you can't do better than this, you had better shut up shop, that's all." " Can you show us any better ?" asked one of the men. " I rather think I can. If I couldn't I'd hank myself." "Let's see it," they all cried. This was my last coup, and one on which my life depended. "Look here, gentlemen, I exclaimed, taking one of the counterfeit half dol lars from my pocket that had been re jected at the bank, " here is my last job, what do you think of it?" It was handed from hand to hand, some saying it was no counterfeit at all some saying it was. " How will you prove it is a counter feit," asked one. "By weighing it with a genuine one,' I replied. This plan was immediately adopted and its character proved. " Perhaps he got this by accident," I heard a man whisper to another. "Pry these," I said, taking the other two out of my pocket. All their doubts now vanished. " Beautiful," exclaimed some. "Very splendid!" said others. When they had examined them to their satisfaction they all cordially took me by the hand, every particle of doubt having vanished from 'their minds. I carried on my part well. Some ques tions were occasionally asked me in volving some technicalities of the busi ness ; these, however, I avoided, by stating that I was on a journey, and would rather take a glass of whiskey than answer questions. The whiskey was produced and we made a night of it. It was not until morning dawned that we separated. The next day I returned to Chleaio - i I - RATES ADVIEWTSUEEL -..... , .. .OF Itiminniss 'Aimarrliumnorrs, $l2 a year per square of ten lines; ten - per amt. - Increase for fractions of a,year. .. -., - REAL Ewers, YMs. , ONAL andPaGilowyn Chri s:BAl. - Ai:Tannin:Dm, 7 cents -a line for the first, m and 4 cents for each subsequent inset.. tio _• _ Perturr 311micumrs and other adver's by the column:- . ' .44 $lOO One column, 1 year,.....•—• .... •. .. .... • - Hall column, 1 year... ..........--... 60 ' Third column, 1 year,....................... 40 Quarter column,- 20 ----- Busixcas Canna, of ten lines er lesai 10 • one year ... Business illtu : ds .. ,ilVe lines orleas, one • year, 6 LEGAL Alt? °TILER NOT/CIES— Ex ecsrffors' notices 2.00 Administrators' notices —.. 2.00 Assignees' notices 2.00 Auditors' notices 1.50 Other "Notices;' ten lines, or less, three times, .1 and brought down the necessary assist ance, and captured the whole gang of counterfeiters, in the very.act. The den was broken up forever, and most of them were condemned to serve a term in the State Prison. I have those half dollars still in my possession, and intend never to part with them, for they were certainly the means of saving my life. gliorellattraito. The Literature or Dreams. A curious book has just been publish ed in London, entitled "The Literature and Curiosities of Dreams—a Common place Book of Speculations concerning the Mystery of Dreams and Visions, Records * of Curious and Well-authenti cated Dreams, and Notes on the Various Modes of Interpretation adopted in Ancient and Modern Times, by Frank Seafield, M. A." The London Athe ncrum describes it as "a vivid and sin- gular compilation." The author is not a: theorist, like the late Sir Wm. I\l6les worth, but a collector. It is his boast that lie has neither put himself forward as a discoverer nor sought hisown glory as a scribe; but he claims the credit of collecting into one view all that is best worth knowing as to the facts of the Among his stories are the follow- Peter Sterry dreamed that "Oliver Cromwell was to be pladed in heaven, which he foolishly imagined to be the true and real heaven above; but it hap pened to be the false, carnal heaven at the end of Westminster Hall, where his head was fixed after the restoration. There were at that time two victualling houses at the end of Westminster Hall, under the Exchequer, the one called Heaven and the other Hell. Near to the former Oliver's head was fixed, Jan. 30, 11300.'' When Dr. Harvey, one of the Physi cians' College in London, being a young man, went to travel towards Padua, he went to Dover, with several others, and showed his pass, as the rest did, to the Governor there. The Governor told him that he must not go, but he must keep him prisoner. The Doctor de sired to know "for ; what reason? how he had trausgressed?'' " Well, it was his will to have it so." The packet boat hoisted sail in the evening, which was very clear, and the Doctor's corn- panions in it. There ensued a terrible storm, and the packet-boat and the pas sengers were drowned. The next day the sad news was brought to Dover. The Doctor was unknown to the Gov ernor, both by name and face; but the night before the Governor had a perfect vision of Dr. Harvey in a dream, who came to pass over to Calais; and that he "Tad a warning to stop him. This the Governor told to the Doctor the next day. Some experiments, made With a view to induce dreaming under conditiOns in which the results could be noted, were made on the person of M. Maury. While M. Maury was asleep, his external or gans were subjected to various kinds of irritation. Thus : I. His lips and nose tieing tickled by his coadjutor with it feather, he dreamed that he was subjected to horrible tor tures ; that a pitch plaster was applied to his face, which was then roughly withdrawn, denuding the lips and cheeks. 2. A pair of tweezers being ,struck close to his ears by scissors, he 'dreamed that he heard the ringing of bells, which speedily changed into the tocsin, and suggested June, 1848. 3. Be ing made to smell, eau de Cologne, he dreamed that lie was in the shop of a perfumer, which led the fancy to the East, and to the shop of Jeau Farina, in Cairo ! 4. Being made to feel the heat, and smell of a burning match, and the wind at the same time being whistled through the shutters, he dreamed that he was at sea, and that the powder-room of the ves'sel blew up. 5. His neck being slightly pinched, he, dreamed that a blister was applied,;' and then there arose the recollection of a physician who had treated him in youth. 6. A piece of red-hot iron being held close to his face for such a length of time as to com municate a slight heat, he dreamed of bandits who got into houses and ap plied hot irons to the feet of the inhab itants, in order to extract money from them. This idea suggested that of the Duchess d'Abrantes, who he had con ceived had chosen him as secretary, in whose Memoirs lie had read of chauffeurs, or bandits who burned people. 7. The word "parafaramus" being pronounced close to his ear, lie heard nothing; but on a repetition of the "'attempt while in bed, the word " manaau" was followed only by a dream of the hum of bees.— When the experiment was repeated some days subsequently, and when he was falling asleep, he dreamed of two or thfee words, " Azor, Castor, Leonore," which were attributed to the interlocu tors in his dream. The sound of "chan delle, haridelle," awoke him while pronouncing the words "c'est elle," but without any recollection of the idea at tached to the expression. 8. A drop of water falling on the brow suggested' a dream of Italy, great thirst, and a draught of Orvietto. 9. A light, sur rounded by a red paper, being repeated. ly passed before his eyes, he dreamed of a storm of lightning, which reproduced a violent tempest which he had encoun tered between Morlaix and Havre. That dreams are not quite indepen dent of the will, appears from the sin gular case of Thomas Reid, of Edin burgh : DREAMS NOT INDEPENDENT OF THE " About the age of fourteen I was al most every night unhappy in my sleep from frightful dreams. Sometimes* hanging over a frightful precipice, and just ready to drop down; sometimes pursued for my life, and stopped by a wall, or by a sudden loss of all strength •, sometimes ready to be de voured by a wild beast. How long I was plagued with such dreams I do not now recollect. I believe it was for a year or two at least; and I think they had not quite left me before I was sixteen. In those days I was much given to whatiMr. Addison, in one of his ,s'pectalors, calls 'castle building,' and in wy evening solitary walk which was generally all the exercise I took, my thoughts would hurry me into some active scene, where I generally acquit ted myself much to my own satisfaction ; and in these scenes of imagination I performed many a gallant exploit. At the same time in my dreams I found myself the most arrant coward that ever was. Not only my courage but my strength failed me, in every danger . and I often rose from my bed in the morning in such a panic, that it took some time to get the better of it. I wished very much to get rid of these uneasy dreams, which not only made me very unhappy in sleep, but often left a disagreeable impression on, my mind for some part of the following day. I thought it was worth trying whether it was possible to recollect that itwas all a dream, and that I was in no real danger. I often went to sleep with my mind as strongly impressed as I could with this thought, that I never in my lifetime was in any real danger, and that every fright I had was a dream. After many fruitless endeavors to recollect this when the danger appeared, I effected it at last, and have often, when I was sliding! over a precipice into the abyss, recol lected that it was all a dream and boldly jumped down. The effect of this com monly was, that I immediately awoke. But I awoke calm and intrepid, which I thought a great acquisition. After this my dreams_ were never uneasy, and in a short time I dreamed übt at all. Dur ing all this time I was in perfecthealth.l7
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