gilt Intagiattr Mutelligtuctr,
WiFoNmsn4Y4iti-
COOP leR S i so
J. IYL COOPMi,
H. G Shunt,
ALFRED SANDERSON
War.. A. MORTOX,
TERMS—Two Dollars per annty, payable
all althea' IV adVance. - -
OFFICar,SOI7THWEST COIMES. OS CENTRE
QUARE.
-Ali letters on business-should be ad
ressedto Cooeks, SANDERSON & CO.
Xittraq.
" Nine Cheers for Old Zito,"
Or. Breaking Down the Sysletn.
In a remote county of Pennsylvania
the scene is laid. The time was the year
1842; when party spirit rose to 102 deg.
in the shade, in every hamlet the length
and breadth of Uncle Sam's glorious
domain. The respective political par
ties met in convention at Bugstown
(the county seat), and made their nom
ination for county officers. As there
were many aspirants for the few nomi
nations, it.follows, asa matter of course,
that there were some bitter disappoint
ments—to no one more than to " old
Zim," who was coo tident of getting a
nomination for sheriff:
Zimmerman, or " old Zia'," as he was
familiarly called, was a miserable old
Codger, who was well to do in the world
yet had an all-powerful thirst for office,
and he was up at every convention for
a, nomination for something, from "Lime
whereof the memory of man runneth
not to the contrary."
He was reputed wealthy ; that is lie
owned a farm and hail money, but he
never showed the color of it, except he
unfortunatery got on a spree, then lie
would show it broadcast--but that was
only a biennial occurrence.
A few evenings after the nominations
above noteil, a knot of the dissatisfied
were congregated at the Black Horse
Tavern, discussing the merits of the for-
tuuate nominees.
" Gentleman," said old Zim, " merit
and long service to the party is no re
commendation in this country. The
wireworkers and schemers have it all
their own way."
"Aye," responded one of the bar-room
loafers, " they does the pickin' out and
they expects us to do the voting."
" But, gentleinen," continued Zan,
``they will fetch up agin a snag or a saw
yer one of these (lays. - Yes, gentlemen,
by the etarnal, I'll upset their apple
cfat and spill their peaches. I'll see
whether it's the people' or a set of
bibken down political hacks as makes
the county nominations. By Judas,
I'll break down the system! 1' 11 run as
a volunteer candidate for sheriff, and i
I don't lay 'en' out, then my name aint
Zimmerman, that's all."
This deterinination was received with
favor by the crowd, and Ziiu healed it
with a " half for red eye."
Full soon he was in the field, announc
ed through a card in both papers to his
fellow citizens, pledging himself to dis
charge the duties of the office with im
partiality—in case he was elected.
Right lustily did old Zim go to work,
and things appeared to go swimmingly.
He canvassed the country, and the peo
ple were profuse in their promises of
doing their best for him. In one of his
peregrinations he met Wattles the nom
inee of Zan's party, who was also on an
electioneering tour.
" Ha, Wattles," said he my fine fel
low, I'm sorry to see you allow yourself
to be the tool of the unholy and corrupt
cabal—l say I am sorry to sec 3 eu sacri
ficed, but you're bound to be beat. I'll
show them that the freemen of this
country will not bear dictation; so my
friend, if you wish to SIM' yourself from
the disgrace of a defeat, you had better
resign in my favor."
Wattles expressed his conviction that
he should feel very much used up in
such an event, but at the same time he
had made up his mind to stand the haz
ard of the (lie.
Election day at length came, and my
worthy friend, armed with a hat full of
tickets, stationed himself on the ground
of his own precinct, and commenced
dealing out his tickets, and urging his
claims in the strongest kind of a way ;
miser as he was, he made his friends
swim in Monongahela long before the
polls were closed.
The election over, evening came on
apace, and the eager expectants gathered
in the bar-rooms to await the counting
of the votes, and the returns to come in
from the different townships. Old Zim
was flourishing about, treating the
crowd, expressing his full confidence in
the people and success of his eitbrt to
" break down the system.''
Seated in a remote corner were a
number of wags, in low but earnest
conversation, and any one who might
have chanced to see them would at
once have concluded that something
was to follow. The consultation soon
broke up, and the plot began in about
fifteen minutes to develop itself. The
clatter of a horse's hoofs were heard on
the frozen ground—a solitary horseman
rode up the door, and flinging the reins
over a post, rushed into the bar-room,
where he was soon raised on a table,
and silence commanded.
" Here," said he, drawing a strip of
paper from his pocket, are the returns
from Lower Buffalo township:—Wat
tles, 50; McGregor, 40; Zimmerman,
190."
"Nine cheers for old Zim !"
"Huzza I huzza! huzza!"
"Genticinen,'i said old Zi taldu
off his hat, " obliged to you for it,
expression of your—that is to say, let us
take a hop,l «II round."
Of course the crowd acquiesced in this
proposition, and the welkin rang with
the loud huzza. But, hark ! scarcely
had the eager crowd imbibed before
another horseman came galloping up to
the inn.
" Begum township one hundred ma
jority for Zimmerman!"
"Nine cheers for old Zim!"
" Hip, hip, hurrah !"
Again did old Zim attempt to speak,
but his feelings overcame him, and he
ended by inviting the entire company
to just call for whatever they wanted.
Again the glasses jingled as the excited
multitude wedged themselves towards
the bar, and again was heard the clatter
of horse's hoofs.
"Dublin township, one hundred and
thirty majority for Zimmerman !"
" Nine cheers for old Vint !"
" Hip, hip, hurrah.''
The excited candidate was wild with
joy and excitement, and he again invi
ted the party up to drink.
Another horsemau came! another,
and still another ! each one bringing an
overwhelming majority for old Zim
from the township he represented.—
Alas, that it should be the same horse,
who performed the feat of a quarter race
every hour that night, and it should be
the same mad wag under various dis
guises that brought old Zim the glori
ous news! The column, as footed up,
gave Zim a cool thousand majority.—
Didn't he rave and pitch ? Well, he
did! Didn't he spend a cool thirty?
the landlord's till groaned under the
weight of old Zim's deposits.
" Gentlemen," said old Zim, "My
heart is full, (his head wasn't anything
else,) and I can only say, that the glo
ry of this contest belongs to you; but I
feel a (`_brick in'your hat;' said a wag,)
• pride that I have been the humble in-
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-
VOLUME 66
strument of breaking down the system."
[Nine cheers.]
Thus matters progressed until those
who were completely " sewed up," were
laid out and the remainder found their
way home—some charitable friends of
the sheriff elect tooting him on a shut
ter to his domicil.
Early in the morning, the village wags
with throbbing temples, met at the
tavern to take "a hair from the dog that
bit them," and to laugh over the"saw"
played on old Zirn ; but scarcely had
they commenced worship before in
stalks the - old gentleman, still under
the delusion that he had carried the
day—nay, more, he insisted on spend
ing a V by way of a morning whet.
The wags were determined to keep it
up as long as possible, and again drank
and congratulated him on his success.
In the midst of the noise and confusion,
in bounded an inky printer'sdevil, who
deposited an extra on the table, contain
ing the returns. Eagerly did old Zim
seize and hover over it, but a minute.
The conclusion of it is all•sutileient for
the reader. It read as follows:
" By the above it will be seen that
the Democracy has again triumphed, as
Wattles' Dent.j majority over 'Rabbets,
Whig) is one hundred and fifty. Zim
merman, volunteer, had three votes in
Beegum, tWo in Dublin, one in Lower
Buffalo, id One in thin borough, (sup
posed to - be by him.sctl, ) matting a total
of seven votes."
The extra dropped from Zim's hand's;
he moved towards the door, then look
ing nround full at the gaping crowd, he
said. leisurly—
" Cientlemeii, you may all go to —!"
And rushing from the bar-room, he was
never again heard of in 13ugsburg.
Prof. R'owel's Ghost.
BY ESTHER SERLE KENNETH
The 'Mix chamber was the prettiest
room iu Craig Cottage. Mr. Westgate,
the gentlemanly owner of Craig Cot
tage, had expressed a mild approval of
it when Bertrinie, his bright, brunette
daughter called him in to see it as the
furnishing was completed : but Ber
trade, flushed with success, was hardly
satisfied.
"Why, papa, it's perfectly exquisite!
like the inside of a sea-shell. See the
rosy tinges reheated on the white win
dow shades by the pink damask draping.
See the light fall in a glOw on the little
Xaritho yonder. Oh, how pretty. Don't
you think it beautiful, papa?''
" Yes, my dear. I hope Prof. Wennel
will like it."
" Prof. AVennel !" screamed Bertrade,
you don't intend to put him here."
" Why not? it is the prettiest room in
he house."
"But he's a man."
"'What of that?''
"This is a lady's room. Indeed it is
papa ; it isn't fit for a gentleman.
There are too many toilette arrange
ments, and no accommodations at all
for cigars."
"Prof. Wennel doesn't smoke, and
he's a guest to whom I wish to do all
possible honor. I wish him to be ac
commodated by the best the house
affords iu every way."
Mr. Westgate was mild but firm.
Ilertrade pouted in vain.
" A horrible great man in that little
nest!" said she to her sister Lou. "Just
think of it! He'll tear everything to
pieces, I know he will."
"Nonsense, Bert, I should think Mr.
Weuuel was a wild cat."
" Lou, don't all men wear muddy
boots, dash the water about in bathing,
scatter cigarashes, and put their feet on
the chairs?"
" No, my dear; papa dosen't."
" Papa's an exception to all men in
every way."
" You'd better wait and see if Prof.
Wennel isn't, before you get in such a
passion about him. '
" in not iu a passion. I wish before
he comes here to spoil that beautiful
room, that he'd blow himself up in some
of his chemical experiments—but I'm
not in a passion! I know I shall hate
him though—l want the room for Nel
lie."
" Papa's favorite guest before yours,
Luy dear."
"Of course ; papa wouhl not care if
Nellie slept in the attic."
"Now, Bertrade."
Bertrade, rather ashamed of her last
remark, was silent, and sat tying knots
in her wrapper cord and jerking them
out again. Just then there was a ring
of the dour bell, the sound of voices in
greeting, and Lou observed quickly :
'Prof. \Vennel has come, Bert."
Bertrade sat still until she heard her
father show the professor iuto the pink
chamber, then she threw herself upon
the lounge and eried tears of vexation.
Neither of the sisters had ever seen
Prof. Wennel. He had been at college
with Mr. \Vestgate, and they concluded
of course, that lie was equally elderly
and studious. They were not aware that
he was barely forty, being eight years
younger than Mr \Vestgate, and though
~terested literature and science,
uardly considered a bore in the best so
ciety in Europe which he had frequent.
ed for the last five years.
Pretty Nellie Dashton arrived that
evening. There was no pink chamber
for her use. She found no fault with
the pretty white-draped bed room with
a dressing room attached, which was
assigned her, but Bertracle expressed to
her her indignation.
All the girls were a little surprised
when they met Prof. Wennel at the tea
table. He was fine looking and agree
able. Nellie said so when they had
flown back to their retreat—the bay
window in the upper hall, where Lou
always sewed.
"Dear little six footer I wonder
how he likes the lace of his toilette
cushion," said Bertrade, incorrigibly.
"I'll tell you what I should do if I
were you, Bert," said Nellie.
" What?"
Prof. Wennel sat in his room reading.
It was nearly twelve o'clock at night.
The damp night-wind blew in at the
open window and made the light flicker
as it shone through its alabaster shade,
upon the table at his side. The room
was indeed like the heart of a rose; but if
13ertracle Westgate had not been so very
much prejudiced, she would have seen
that Prof. Wennel, with his classical
face and slender hands, did not look
much out of place there.
Suddenly something, he never knew
what, made him raise his eyes from his
book. In the centre of the room stood
a slender figure robed in ashroud, white
and glimmering; and at the instant his
eyes fell upon it the town clock it began
to strike twelve in the distance. As the
ast stroke died, the figure moved si
lently toward the door and glided out.
The professor sat staring at empty
space, doubting his senses. He was so
astonished that he never stirred in his
seat for ten minutes. He sat gazing
straight forward until the book, slipping
from his relaxed hand, fell upon the floor
and startled him.
" I have been asleep and dreaming,"
said he ; and he prepared to retire. Yet
as he drew the white coverlet over his
shoulders, he had a suspicion that what
IA had seen was not a dream.
The next morning at breakfast he said
to his host—
" Phillip, is this an old house?"
" Well, it has something of a history,
I believe. It has been in my possession
but a year, and we have lived here only
a few months,"
" What is its history ?"
" It was built by a man named Alli
good, I don't know how long ago. He
lost his young wife here immediately
after his removal to it. Then Dr. Grant
bought it."
" Did Alligood's wife dieof sickness'."
" i helieye there was a report that she
poisoned herself on account of some for
mer attachment. Do you know any:.
thing about it, Bertrade ?"
" Yes, Papa," said Bertrade, slowly
stirring her coffee ; " everybody thinks
it is quite true that she poisoned herself
because she was married against her
Alligood. "And,":coutinued
Bertrade, observing that Prof. Wenuel
was regarding her attentively, " they
say she was found with the glass in her
hand dead in the room we have furnish
ed as the pink chamber."
"How horrible! I shouldn't think
you'd dare to live here," murmured
Dashton, shrugging her dimpled
shoulders, and everybody saw Prof.
Wennel shudder, but he changed the
conversation.
That night he retired to bed as early
as ten o'clock, but somehow he could
not sleep. At twelve o'clock he was as
wide awake as ever he was in his life,
and there in the centre of the room stood
the same white figure which had visited
him the previous night. As before, its
stay was brief. It retreated as he fixed
his eyes upon it, and vanished at the
door, which closed softly behind it. The
Prof. never closed his eyes all night.
The next day he hinted to Mr. West
gate that he thought of returning home.
His host was astonished.
" Why, Arch., 1 thought you were
going to stay all summer with me."
- " So did I," said Bertrade, softly.
Prof. Wenuel murmured something
about changing his plans, and declared
that he really felt as if he must depart
on the following day.
That night he was visited again ; the
fact did not accelerate his departure, for
the Prof. hail the belief that directly
after the door closed upon his ghost, he
heard a slaothered laugh, and he re
mained until tile next night.
Just as the clock was on the stroke of
twelve, his chamber door opened, and
the shape appeared. He kept his head
bent over his book, until it had ad
vanced into the centre of the room.
Then, instead of sitting still, dazzled by
feat and fascinated with wonder, he
quietly arose, produced a pistol', and said
calmly f
" Take Off that sheet, or I'll fire."
The figure paused slowly to retreat.
" I'll give you but one second," hesaid,
firmly.
The figure paused, wavered—the sheet
fell, and Bertrade sank on her knees be-
fore him
"Oh, Prof. Wennel, forgive we—and
don't, oh, don't tell papa!"
Pallid and lovely, with her dark ring
lets falling in disorder on her shoulders,
the Prof. lowered his pistol before her
beseeching face.
" Have you any excuse for such con
duct Miss Westgate?"
"\o—yes—oh, I can't tell you; but I
did it partly for fun. Won't you forgive
me, and not tell papa? I'll do anything
for you ; indeed I will."
fire stood quietly before her as she
still knelt at his feet.
" You ask: a great deal of me. You
have destroyed my plans for the slim
mer, forcing me to tell your father that
I must go away."
" I know, but you can ruakesome ex
cuse not to go, if you like. I will help
you if you won't tell him. Say—say—."
" May I say that I have fallen in love
with his daughter, and so have changed
my mind a second time'?"
She was on her feet in an instant, all
her pallor given way to a burning blush.
He smiled, but she did not see him, for
her eyes were on the floor.
" May I say it ?" he repeated.
She looked up with a little indignant
flash.
"\o."
He went nearer, took her hands, and
made her look at him.
" INlay I, Bertrade ?"
" Yes," she said.
And Professor Wen nel married Lis
ghost.
Important Proelamatlon—Promlnent
Rebels Pardoned.
EXECUTIVE OFFICE, I
WASH I NoToN, October 11, 1565. ;
WitEu E vs, The following named per
sons, to wit: .I,lin A. Campbell, of Ala
bama; H. Reagan, of Texas; Alex
ander H. Stephens, of Georgia; George
A. Trenholm, of South Carolina; and
Charles Clark, of Mississippi, lately en
gaged in rebellion against the United
States Government, who are now in
close custody, have made their submis
sion to the authority of the United
States, and have applied to the Presi
dent for pardon under his proclama
tion ; and
WHEREAS, The authority of the Fed
eral Government is sufficiently restored
in the aforesaid States to admit of the
enlargement of said persons from close
custody ; it is ordered that they be re
leased on giving their respective paroles
to appear at such time and place as the
President may designate, to answer any
charge that hemay direct to be preferred
against them, and also, that they will
respectively abide, until further orders,
in the places herein designated, and not
depart therefrom: John A. Campbell,
in the State of Alabama; John H. Rea
gan, in the State of Texas ; Alex. H.
Stephens, in the State of Georgia;
George W. Trenholm, in the State of
South Carolina; and Charles Clark, in
the State of Mississippi ; and if the Pre
sident should grant his pardon to any of
said persons, such person's parole will
be discharged. (Signed)
ANDREW JOHNSON, President.
—Most bachelors are smart, but it is
only husbands who are now shrew'd.
—Love in a cottage is all very well
when you own the cottage, and have
plenty of money at interest.
—A kind of angling that doesn't
always take : Fishing for compliments.
—Politital croakers would almost
rather share in any calamity than fail
in prediction.
—There is no monarch's signet-ring
that is typical of as much duty as the
wedding-ring is.
—Opportunities, like eggs, must be
hatched when they are fresh.
—When is silence likely to get wet?
When it reigns.
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 18, 1865.
My 'Cold Bath.
[From "Once a Week."l
One morning, during the long vaca
tion Emerson and I were standing on
the pier of a small watering-place on
the Kentish coast, waiting for the one
great excitement of the day, the land
ing of the boat from London. As this
was the only relief to the monotony of
life at 'Newton, all the "rank and fash
ion " were assembled to enjoy it. I had
fallen into a brown study under the
genial influence of a pipe and the calm
summer's morning. Still my eyes were
fixed on a pretty girl, who was fishing
for sea anemones with her parasol. I
was first struck by her figure, but still
more so with her file°, when she turned
around, and addressed an elderly gen
tleman who was sitting behind her.
Emmerson was looking about him, and
launching forth in praise of some angel
with whom he was deeply smitten. an
event which occurred so often that I had
ceased to take any notice of it.
Suddenly Eminersou, who had for
some time been watching the direction
of my eyes, said, " What should you do
if that girl were to tumble in after one
of those jellyfish?"--he always would
call sea anemones
" I suppose I should' have to jump in
after her," I replied, very ur.gracious,
ly.
" Well," said Emmerson, •' I think
then it is very probable that the last of
the Plantagenets will have an impromp
tu bath before lie goes home. But I
don't believe you would jump in even
to save my life, much more that of a
girl you neversaw before in your wretch
ed benedictine existence,you old misoga
mist.
"At all events," said I, "I hope she
won't take it into her head to try and
drown herself before I have finished my
I soon necame once more absorbed in
watching the lovely figure of the girl as
she eagerly leaned forward over the
water to catch her glittering prey, occa-
sionally turning round Cd" the old man
behind her, and showing a beautiful
face, with bright, sparkling, deep brown
eyes, dark rich hair, and pearly teeth.—
Presently, as J had just looked out to
seaward to see if the boat was eomiag,
I heard her say,
a beauty ! J Lutist get it ;" then 1 heard
a splash and a scream.
The next moment my coat was off,
and I was in the water. Luckily, I
could swim well ; but quick as I was,
she had sunk twice, and the tide which
was running like a millstream, had
taken her some distance before I could
reach her. Just as she was sinking for
the last time, I dived and caught her ;
but my coming too near had nearly
proved the destruction of us both, for
she seized me with a drowning grasp,
and dragged me under water too. At
length she became insensible, and I ex
tricated one arm from her, and tried to
paddle back ; but by this time my
strength was nearly exhausted, when a
boat from the steamer, which had just
arrived, picked me up, and took us both
to the pier, where I soon recovered con
sciousness.
Such, however, was not the case with
Ethel, (as I afterwards found she was
called.) She was taken home on a
hand-barrow, and for some time her life
was despaired of. Her father was too
anxious to say much to me then, but
called the next day to thank me, for I
was too ill to go out. He said that after
some hours she had revived a little, but
was still in a precarious state.
I suffered no further inconvenience
than a bad cough ; but I never shall
forget Eminerson's surprise. He after
wards said to me, grasping my hand,
"Plantagenet, I fancied that, in spite of
your apparent coldness, you would be
just the man to risk your life to save
another's and your mermaid is worth
saving, for her face is too pretty to be
made food for fishes." * *
As soon as 1 was able I called on Col.
Murray, witom I found was an old In
dian otliceY, and father of the young
lady whose life I had so providentially
saved.
It was some time before Ethel was
able to leave the house; when she did
so, however, I used to accompany her
to the beach, leaving Col. Murray at
home, in sight, with the Times. Miss.
Murray would often laughingly say she
was glad of her accident, ifs it led to au
acquaintance which was a relief to the
dull life she had hitherto passed, know
ing no one. I assured her the pleasure
was mutual, but I added, sorrowfully,
" I must return to town on Monday
next"—this was Tuesday.
"Must you ?" said she;
Oh, do stay a fortnight longer; can't
you ?" I explained that this was
" Then " said she, " you must
call on us in London; there is my card."
I took the card, on which was in
scribed, " Miss Ethel Murray, 75 Pem
berton Square." I promised to call, but
a feeling of sadness had come over us,
for which Emmersou rallied me after
wards.
Emmerson coming up at that moment
introduced him, bui I saw by the
OA' iukle of his eye that he meant mis
chief, for I . always chaffed him unmer
cifully when I got the chance, which
was often, as " angels" abounded ; each
more beautiful than the last. But I was
always called a misogamist; and yet
here I, the grave Geoffrey Plantagenet,
was positively " spooning."
Emmerson immediately began chat
ting in his usual lively way, and Miss
Murray was apparently delighted with
him, much to my annoyance, as I cer
tainly dreaded him fora rival—taller by
three inches than I was, good-looking
and lively ; no very great heart about
him, perhaps, but girls don't mind that.
Presently Emmerson jumped up and
rushed off after an angel who was just
coming from her bath.
"I am glad you like my friend," said
I, when he was gone.
"Yes," she replied, "pretty well ; he
is very amusing, and will do to talk to."
"What do you mean by that ?', said I.
" I hardly know,', she replied : " but
I mean no one could ever care for him,
1 should think."
This relieved my mind, and the rest
of my time at the seaside passed happily
and rapidly away.
It was bliss to see Ethel bathe, and
then to walk by her side and talk to her,
as I usually did all day; for her father,
good man, never troubled himself about
her; she always did as she liked. I
used to love to see that beautiful hair
float over her shoulders—to watch her
every motion. I was too happy ; I
knew a change must soon come. * *
As Emmerson and I went back to
town of course I got plenty of chaff, but
at the same time Emmerson sided com
pletely with me, and cheered me up.
When I said that I had no chance of
winning such a lovely and rich bride,
he said that I was of an old family,
though poor, and that he was fullY pre
pared to assert that I was the best fellow
" Oh, papa, here's such
"so soon !
in England, and that; if the " old na
bob " did not consent atonce; he should
propose to take forcible measures to
compel him, even hinting at an elope
ment, and a desire to assist.
When I had been in town about a
month I called at Pemberton square,
and was shown up into a handsome
apartment, where the marks of Ethel's
hands were evident everywhere.
I received a sound rating for not call
ing before,.and I explained that I had
been engaged, and therefore unable to
do so, but all in vain. Miss Murray was
disappointed. Sit e said that, as I thought
it such a bore, she hoped I would not
trouble myself again.
This was too much for me. I threw
myself on my knees before her and
commenced a flood of entreaties, but
was interrupted by a fit of coughing.
That cough saved me—it reminded her
of a drawing girl saved from death.
"Oh, Mr. Bertrand," shesaid, "don't
make excuses. It is I who ought to
apologize, for being so thoughtless and
unkind. I am sure you come as soon
as you were able. Please call in the
evening—every evenb,g ; papa will be
so glad to see you. But you have not
lost your cough—do you take anything
for it?"
" No," I replied; but I added that
my coughs always burg about me. I
expressed a hope that she had not suf
fered from her involuntary cold bath;
and she assured me that, though still
delicate, she was quite well She said
she knew that I had been sitting in my
wet clothes. I acknowledged that I
hti.d, fur which I got a reprimand.
We were now better friends than ever;
and when Col. Murray came in, heseem
ed very glad to see me, but complained
of my staying away so long. Ethel,
however, hastened to stop him, by as
suring him that I could not possibly
hate come before, a., that it was very
thoughtless of him to think that - Leonid.
The evening passed rapidly and
pleasantly. When I left, I had strict
orders to come again as soon as I could,
and always to come when I liked.
That night, over a pipe, I had a long
consultation with Emmerson, and told
him all that. had passed, He w de
lighted, and told me I was Et 1314deman,
safe for a thousand a year. He only
wished he could light upon a partner in
every way so eligible.
" Did they give you a good feed, old
boy ?" said he.
" Yes," said I; " but Ethel did look
so charmingly, you can't imagine."
" Oh, I dare say she did!" said he.
" Was the house well furnished ?"
"Yes, very," I replied "and she was
so kind!"
" Oh, I've no doubt she is well off,"
said Emmerson. " Did she ask after
"Yes," said I;
you up."
"and told me to bring
"Take care," said Emmerson ; I shall
be cutting you out. But really, will
you ask her if she has a cousin equally
well off and good locking, who would
do for me?''
"I will inquire," said 1; '• but first
let me settle my own affair."
After a few more words we separated;
and went to bed. 4,
As may be imagined, after my last
orders, Icalledat Colonel Murray's very
frequently, Emmerson used to come,
too ; sometimes, and he often used to
ask me to find him some one to make
love to, as he felt wretchedly lonely
now; he did not care to come with me
to play second fiddle, and he dared not
attempt any seige of Ethel himself, for
he always used to say that she had sur
rendered to the enemy (meaning me),
and that her fortifications were too
strong for him. I used to think some
times that I was loved in return, but
then again a chance expression would
dash all hopes to the ground. If I stay
ed away two days she would seem piqued;
but again in a minute she would laugh
and ask me if I supposed she cared ?
Certainly, love is a great humbler, for
now when I looked at Ethel, I used to
think I was totally unworthy of her;
she seemed to me quite a superior being,
and yet I had often met grander and.
nobler women, but never one whom I
loved before. I had often resolved to
risk my happiness, but as often as I be
gan a preamble she would laugh in the
middle and take away all my courage.
One evening, however, I told her
straight out that I loved her, and she
told me she returned my love. Now I
was happy, with my arm round her
waist, and her head on my shoulder.
All seemed to prognosticate bliss ; alas,
how soon was the cup of happiness
dashed from my lips! When I men
tioned " papa," she said Ile was sure to
consent, from his love for her, and be
sides that, he had taken a great fancy
to me, for I resembled an old friend of
his in India. I was at this time not quite
one and twenty, and I thought objec
tions might be raised to my youth, but
I never expected the blow that came.
I spoke• to to!. Murray, and he put me
off for some time, but at length he said
he was sorry he could not bestow his
daughter on me, as he had made a prom
ise to au old friend on the subject.
I was wild with grief, rushed into the
draw-room, where Ethel was sitting,
caught her in my arms, gave her one
long kiss, then rushed from the house.
.The last words I heard were, "I will
never forget you. I cannot love an
other."
As soon as I reached home, Emmer
son could see that something was wrong;
it soon came out, and now followed a
scene; he was as much excited as if he
himself had been rejected; he muttered
curses, "not loud but deep," on the "old
sinner's" head, swearing he would find
out what his promise was, and if that
was any excuse for drawing on his
daughter's deliverer to treat him thus.
But his great idea seemed to be a runa
way match. " Nothing easier," said he;
"I will stand by you and help you."
But to this I knew Ethel would not
consent.
A few weeks after I attained my ma
jority and resumed the name of Plan
tagenet, which I had dropped for that
of Bertrand, by the will of an eccentric
uncle, who left me a considerable sum
of money, on condition that I dropped
my father's name till I was twenty-one,
as they had quarreled; but my uncle
now being dead, I again used my own
name of Geoffrey Plantagenet. By this
time I found that anxiety and disap
pointment had rendered me so weak as
to require country air ; so I went to a
retired place.
Immediately after I left London,
Emmerson called at Col. Murray's and
asked to see the colonel privately. The
colonel received him not very gracious
ly; but nothing disconcerted at this, he
said, "I suppose yell are aware, sir, that
my friend is dying ?" The colonel
started. "He gave me this for you,"
continued Enitnerson, handing him a
note.
Col. Murray hastily broke ,the seal,
and at the moment he glanced down the
letter he uttered an exclamation and fell
feinting to the ground. Emmerson
seized a glass of water that stood by and
dashed it in his face. In a few minutes
he recovered sufficiently to speak ; his
first words were, " Where is he? Take
me to him. I must see him at once. Is
t too late to save him?" In fact, with
out a word he started off after me.
Emmerson brought the colonel tome.
I was then lying on a couch much ex
hausted, and feeling very mi. When
they came into the room the colonel
rushed towards me, and seized me by
the hand, exclaiming, My dear Geof
frey, found at last !"
The rest is soon told. It appeared that
my father was au old friend of Colonel
Murray's in India, and that Col- Mur
ray had made up his mind that no one
but his old friend's son should ever
marry Ethel. Hence his rejection of
my suit. The sight of his signature as
Geoffrey Plantagenet (which he knew
was the name of his old friend's son)
brought him to my side. Formerly I
had, for the reason before stated, been
always called Bertrand.
Ethel was informed of what had hap
pened, and of course came down to me
immediately. It was a likeness to my
father that Col. Murray had noticed,
and that prepossessed him in my favor.
As soon as I was well enough we were
married. Emmerson figured at the
weddiag in fine style, and said a great
many complimentary things. Now he
is a welcome guest at our house. Ethel
says that she always blesses the day
when she fell into the water, as that
made her Mrs. Plantagenet; and thus
we o.ten talk over " My cold bath, and
what came of it."
What Dick Blaize Found In Church.
I'd been to church. I'm not a man
to sail under false colors, and pretend I
went reggar, for I didn't ; but when a
lad has been on a three years' cruise,
and through no end o' gales, and come
home safe and sound at last, it's only
right he should report himself at head
quarters. Some didn't ; but 1 had a
good old mother once, and she taught
me a great deal that I've forgotten now
(more shame for me,l besides some
things I remember. So, feeling that
the Lord's hand had been in my coming
home alive, I went to where they say
he comes oftenest, and that's to ehurqh.
It was a grand sort of place; but I had
my 'longshore togs on, and my new sil
ver watch, and a collar as white as old
sail—and in I walked, bold as brass. It
was evening, about seven bells, and the
glints were all alight. Chaplain, he
was there in tile wheel-house, and all
the passengers aboard. I sailed up the
straits, looking for a seat, but Lord love
ye ! they all hate state-rooms, with the
doors shut, and though I said, once or
twice, "Shove up, shipmate," nary lad
of 'em budged an inch.
" Look-a-here, my mall," says I to a
fellow acting as convoy to a lot of ladies
jest come in, " my opinion is you need
a missionary. I've been among the be
nighted heathen, iu parts where they're
nigh as black as your coat, and though
they eat each other now and then,
them that's convarted never tries to
keep the others out in the cold when
there's a meetin'. Chaplain wouldn't
hear on't if they did."
Well, the chap turned -Up 1.11.8 nose at
me, and said something about " being
under no obligation to find seats for
strangers," and I set sail for the door,
when he pints, and I looks, and, bless
her pretty heart ! there was a lady
holding her door open, and a kind o'
bowiu', as much as to say, " Cast anchor
here, and welcome."
So I made my best bow, and went in.
There warn't another soul but us two
there, and I felt sheepish, I can tell you.
I warn't two-and-twenty then, and was
afore the mast yet. And she was a
beauty !—like a little yacht with stream
ers flying, and holiday sailing ahead.
If she'd turned up her nose at me I'd
not have wondered. But she didn't;
she gave me a book, with blue velvet
on the binding, to sing out of, and
. smiled when she did it. And bless ye,
I forgot what the chaplain was saying,
looking at her. I don't know where
she got her eyes, unless a bit of summer
sky was used to make 'em, for they
were jest as blue. Well, when it was
all over, such a time as I had treading
on the women's long petticoats, and
being scowled at, coming out! 1 was
making headway down the street, when
I saw a fellow half-seas over make up
to a lass and put his arm about her
waist and try to kiss her. She screamed,
but before she could scream twice I was
alongside of her. Hands off; you
lubber !" said I, and I laid him sprawl
ing.
And then I saw the lass was the very
one I'd been looking at all the evening
—the only Christian (according to my
reckoning) in church.
Says she, " I'm very much obliged to
you, sir."
Says I, " You ain't—not at all, miss;
and now, if you've far to go, I'll walk
alongside and pilot you, if you'll per
mit."
Says she, "I have a very little way to
go; that's father's house ; but thank you
a thousand times."
Well, she pointed to a reg'lar first
class sort of place, all white marble,
that I knew to be Cappen Jersey's. And
Cappen Jersey was my cappen. I'd
sailed with him for years—'prentice at
first, hand arterward. And, Lord love
ye, I felt almost frightened to think of
sitting and walking alongside hisdaugh
ter. I made my best scrape and bow,
and somehow stammered out about giv
ing best respects to the cappen, and the
honor of having sarved her.
Then says she, " Papa must thank
you himself." And there, true as the
sea-sarpent, was Cappen Jersey at the
parlor port-hole. She told him what
had happened, and he said, " My man,
you've done your duty," and made me
come in and have a glass of wine. He
called it wine, look ye, but I've my
doubts of it, for it was sour as swipes,
and fizzed like soda-water when the
cork came out. I should have took it
for spiled cider. However, cappen's
wine isn't to be sneezed at by foremast
hands, and I took it.
Well, I took myself home arter that,
but I took her along o' me. I could see
her eyes and her mouth and her hair—
'twarn't gold, norbrown, nor yet flaxen
—sort o'like moonlight with a shadow
in it—as well as if I'd been in one o'
them daguerreotype machines and had
her picter took off on my heart, and at
night I dreamed of her.
Look here, shipmate, if you'll keep
.dark I'll tell you what I dreamed: That
I—Dick Blaize—kissed Cappen Jersey's
daughter!' I don't believe in a man
stepping out of his place. Nobody un-
NUMBER 41.
der a first mate had a right to dream
that, and I own up I was to blame.
That wasn't the worst—l vow it
wasn't. I thought of her arter I was
awake jest the same; and I did think if
I could be cappen, and have her for my
wife—Eva her name was: I'd heard the
Cappen call her so—l'd not want to die,
nor yet to go to heven. Life would be
so happy to me!
Well, I went on loving and hoping,
and we took anotksr voyage, and yet
another ; and I got on, and was promo
ted,and by-and-by I found myself second
mate, and then she was not spliced yet.
I was six-and-twenty, and had a little
money put by, and thoughts of her had
kept me from too much grog and com
pany that might ha' done me harm ;
and says I, one day, " I'll have her yet
before I go to Davy Jones' locker."
I didn't give up thoughts of Miss Eva
Jersey, and being second mate, I found
chances after while to talk to her, and I
was a handsome-;young fellow then—
wanity you'll say, but it's truth—and
she took a shine to me. When I knew
it I was beside myself with joy.
Secret a bit we were about it, as lovers
will be, and the cappen - was a man to be.
afraid of. But one day I went to him,
and says I, " Cappen, I've a ' word to
say to you."
I couldn't go on at first, but by-and
by I managed to stumble through it.—
" I loved his daughter and wanted him
to give her to me." That was my yarn,
and Lord love ye the squall it raised.
Cappen rose up and looked at me.
" Have you been drinking, my man?"
says he.
" No, Cappen," says I.
" Then you're mad," says he
" Nor yet mad," says I
He pointed to the door.
"I haven't had my answer," says I.
'I beg pardon, Cappen, but I want to
dear it."
Ladies may read this, or I'd write
down what he said to me. Talk about
oaths after that!
" I don't deserve this, sir," said I.
" You deserve a cowhiding. If I had
a jack-o'-nine-tails handy I'd lay it over
your back," said he. " Miss Eva Jersey
is a lady, anti you a common sailor."
"Second mate now, sir," says I.
"Second fiddle-stick's end," says he.
"And, sir, she—she likes me," said I.
Then cappen kicked me out. Mind ye,
he was sixty-five, or I'd not have let
him do it."
Next thing I heard Eva was sent
away to an aunt's, and the nigger that
waited on the cappen ashore fetched
me a note bidding me good-by, and say
ing that she " must obey her father."
That was duty. Let every man and
woman do their duty. I did mine ; for,
you see, I'd engaged with Cappen Jer
sey for a new voyage, and the time was
come ; and though it went agin me, I
couldn't desert, though I said " it's the
last voyage we'll have together, my
hearty." Said it to myself, you know.
I did my duty. I worked hard. But
all the light was gone out o' my sky. I
was in a fog, with my compass lost.
Life warn't nothing to me, and soon I
had a chance for death.
For there came to us such a gale as
never blew before, when we were not
far from the Gold Coast; and after it
had blown a bit it seemed to me the cap
pen lost his senses. He might have sav
ed the ship, but he was obstinate, and so
she went upon a rock and split to pieces.
We took to the boats in the storm.—
I never saw any of my messmates again.
We might as well have been afloat in egg
shells. The first I knew, after knoWing
nothing, was lying in burning sand on
my face ; and when I cleared my eyes I
saw I'd been washed ashore. Two men
lay alongside o' me. I turned the first
over ; it was the cook, Peter ; he was
stone-dead. I looked at the next; it
was the cappen. Yes, 'twas poor old
Cappen Jersey, and he wasn't dead, for
he groaned when I touched him.
Says I, "What cheer, cappen ?"
Says he, " I sha'n't live to see my
girl again, Blaize."
" Tell that to the marines !" says I.
" We're on main land, I fancy, and .
niggers or not, I never knew men - I was
afraid of. We'll get home yet, cappen."
" You may," says he. " I must stay
here ; my leg is broken."
So it was. The hero had been bruised
and beaten nearly to death, besides,
though he bore it so well, and I found
myself piping my eyes as I looked at
him ; but I was a bit of a surgeon, and
I set the limb and bandaged it—bark
for splints, and my shirt for bandages—
and then (that was a hard job) I took
poor Peter's clothes and made a kind of
bed for cappen in the shadiest place I
could find, and buried the cook, with a
bit of prayer, and set down to:think. I
couldn't go a step, and I must feed him
and myself. I had a bit of liquor in a
flask, and that was all.
I couldn't tell you much about how
we lived, sometimes burning, sometimes
soaked to theskin, hal f the time hungry.
I found berries and roots and a bread
fruit tree, and caught , a parrot and
roasted her. I stuck to the cappen. I
suppose a month went so, and he could
just move a little ; and then I began
helping him on my easy stages, hoping
to come to some place where we should
see human faces. We didn't, only to
woods we were afraid to go through for
the wild beasts, and I wished we had
staid near the shore, where we might
have seen a sail.
I learned how to say, " Give Inc to-day
our daily bread" then, and the Lord
sent it. But one day—a burning day—
I could find neither water nor food.
We were starving. I was as weak as a
child, and the poor Cappen weaker than
And the Cappen said to me over and
over again, "Go, Blaize"—'twasn't my
man now—"you can escape, perhaps.
Leave me. I'm only an old dying man."
And I had answered, " No one shall
ever say Dick Blaize desarted his Cap
pen." But I knew we were both doom
ed. Neither flesh nor fruit nor water
could I find. And at last I sat down in
despair.
Well, to cut a long story short, mess
mates, we were rescued, came ashore at
Marblehead at last, and I was well and
hearty, but the poor Cappen laid low.
I had thought we'd bury him at sea, but
it didn't come to that, and they took
him home on a litter to die there; but
before he went he held out his hand to
me. •
" God bless you !" he said. "No son
could be kinder than you have been•;"
and I went away wiping myeye.
I'd got to love him out there on the
Gold Coast.
Well, I was uneasy, and I walked the
deck of my room the best part of the
night, and at daybreak some one says,
"Ahoy, Mr. Blaize!" and I opened the
door. A boy was there. Says he,
"Cappen Jersey has. sent for you—he's
dying."'
I knew it must come; but my heart
sank like the lead in deep water. I set
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LISGAL y AND Oricun NOTIOEs-- . .
ExeuntOm'noties ' ................-,...1 . 00
Administrators'notices ... . -....:..
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Assignees' notices -....„.... 2.00
Auditors' notices ............... -..........,.... 150
Other "Notices, '.ten lines, or less,
three times • - i
sail for the house. leaving the lad quite
but of sight, and got there in a few min
utes. The nigger took me In, and there
was Cappen in bed and Chaplain along
side, and Eva crying as if her blessed
heart would break. And -Cappen says
tome:
"Blaize, time is short for me, rmust
speak fast. You loVe my girl still?"
Says I, "I haven't words to tell how
dear he is to me."
Then the Cappen took her little hand
and put it in mine, and says to the
chaplain. .
Let me see it done before I die."
And before I knew what had happen-
Ca I .was called on to answer would I
take this woman to be my wedded wife ?
and had said :
" Will I ? Why, if you'll give her to
me, Cappen, you give me my bit of
heaven afore my time." At which
Chaplain took me up sharp.
And then we were married, and the
dream came true, for I kissed her.—.Efar
per.'s Weekly.
An Interesting Incident of the War—A
Lesson Taught.
Many instances have been gWen by
travellers of the affection shown by the
Arabian horses towards their masters ;
and so much, also, has been written to
prove their sagacity, as to make one be
lieve, at times, that they must be en
dowed with an instinct which ap
proaches nearly, •if not quite, to the
reasoning faculty of a human being.
Be this, however, as it may, we very
much doubt if among the feats narrated
of the horses of the East, any can be
found that exceeds in affectionate devo
tion the following incident, which was
told us a few days since at Sara
toga by the soldier to whom it occur
red. The narrator is a young Irishman,
and like* many others of his nation,
joined, shortly after his arrival in
America, Sheridan's brigade. It was in
one of those forced marches when they
had driven back the enemy and had
been in the saddle for several consecu
tive days and nights, that this trooper
availed himself of a temporary Lalt, to.
slip from his saddle and stretch himself
upon the turf—his horse, meanwhile,
brousing in the immediate vicinity. He
had slept for some little time, when he
was suddenly awakened by the frantic
pawing of his horse, athis side. Fatigued
by his long ride, he did not rouse at once,
but lay in that partially conscious state
which so frequently attendsgreatphysi
cal prostration. Soon, however, the faith
ful animal, perceiving that its efforts
had failed to accomplish their object
licked his face, and placing its mouth
close to his ear, uttered a loud snort.
Now thoroughly awake, he sprang up,
and as the horse turned for him to mount,
he saw for the first time that his -com
rades had all disappeared, and that the
enemy were coming down upon him at
full gallop. Once mounted, the faith
ful beast bore him with the speed of the
wind safely from the danger and soon
placed him among his companions.
"Thus," he added with emotion, " the
noble fellow saved me frotn captivity
and perhaps from death."
Can there be found on record a more
beautiful example of affectionate devo
tion on the part of a dumb brute to his
master than this? Undoubtedly similar
examples have occurred during the re
cent war, which will forever be buried
in oblivion. Would that they might
be brought to light, if their narration
could in auy degree mitigate the cruelty
to which the horse is constantly sub
jected, especially in our large cities,
where many of the drivers are more
brutal than the beasts they have in
charge.
near Yellowstone river upon a number
of troops under Capt. Coles, consisting
of his own regiment mounted as rifle
men, with one section of artillery and a
battalion of the 12th Missouri cavalry.
The latter seem to have fallen back
several miles, the Indians being in large
force, and apparently determined to de
stroy the command. The writer says:
On the evening of September 3d he
was again attacked by the Indians in
great force, but repulsed and pursued
them ten miles, when he camped on the
west bank of the Powder river, where
the engagement was resumed at day
break the next morning, the Indians
commencing the attack on the west side
of the camp, but in every quarter they
were defeated with heavy loss until 8
o'clock in the forenoon, when they at
tempted a grand coup de main by cross
ing a party of 1,50 U or 2,000 to the other
side of the river, where they made a
furious attack on the river side of
the camp. One company had already
been thrown across, though it fell
back to the west bank, which was
held by four companies of the 2d Mis
souri light artillery, armed with Spen
cer's repeating carbines and Colt's army
revolvers, and advantageously posted in
a clump of timber that came up to the
water's edge. One piece of artillery was
also brought to bear on the crossing.—
The Indians came dashing down from
the bluff in a confused mass,
yelling
like a horde of fiends let loose from in
fernal regions, and as the advance en
tered the river, which was less than
fifty yards wide, our boys opened on
them. The slaughter was awful, but
retreat was impossible, as those in the
rear were continually rushing up, press
ing the advance directly under the fire
until the river was literally damned
with the bodies of the slain. This dis
astrous repulse completely demoralized
the Indians, who fled in every direction.
Their loss in this battle is estimated as
600, while we lost only one man killed
and Lieut. Kelley and two men
'wounded.
The advance column of Col. Sam.
Walker was attacked a few days later
by 3,000 Indians, but the savages were
put to flight. The troops reached the
fortafter a heavy march, exhausted and
destitute of provisions, besides losing
400 horses in a bitter storm of rain and
snow.
Two damsels passing through the de
pot at Springfield, Mass., a day or two
since, where having an animated discus
sion on the subject of coiffure, and one
exclaimed: " What do you think,
Maria? It took me thirty-five minutes,
this morning, to make my water fall."
Love of Married Life
The affection that links together
man and wife, is a far holier and more
enduring passion than young love. It
may want its gorgeousness and imagi
native character—but it is far richer in
holy and trusting attributes. Talk not
of the lbsence of love in wedded life!
what! because a man has ceased to
"sigh like a furnace," are we to believe
the fire extinct? It burns with a steady
flame shedding a benign influence upon
existence a million times more precious
and delightful th • n the dreams of
philoosphy.
"Billy," said a benevolent vender
of food for stoves, as with cheerful visage
he sat down to his matutinal repast, `is
it cold?' "Wery cold, father," was the
reply. "Is the gutters froze, Billy," re
joined the parent. " Wery hard, father,
they is," was the response. "Alt!'
sighed the old gentleman, "put lip the
coal two pence a pail, Billy. Ged help
the poorln