gonOttlielittilfgencer, ,PRVAIPP,477.In:•!I'VP)/T3sl)+x coopza, sx . iir EUBOF & co J. M. Coots% 'ALFRED SiNDEßsoff WM. AI, NORTON, TDRKS—Twis Dollars per 4nm:on, payable :all cases advance.:::: , oFFlCE—Sorrawn.r comma. RP CENTRE , . MA letters on business sbould be ad iressed to Coo = rs, SANDERSON & CO. TiteratiA. Wbat Came of a Valentine On the evening of the 13th of Febru ary, 1850, two young men sat in a com fortably furnished room in a large New York boarding-house. A bright fire glowing in the grate, well chosen en gravings adorned the walls, and a bright light was diffused about the room from an Argand burner. Let me introduce the occupants of the apartment as Tom Stacy and John Wil bur, young men of twenty-five or there abouts, who were known in business circles as Stacy & Wilbur, retail dry goods dealers, No. Broadway. They had not been in business long, but were already doing unusually well. They had taken apartments together, one of which is now presented to the reader. "Has it occurred to you, Wilbur," asked his partner, removing his cigar, and knocking away the ashes, " to morrow is St. Valentine's day ?" " Yes, I thought of it this afternoon, as I was walking up from the store." "So did I, and to some plirpose, too as I will show you." Tom Stacy went to a drawer, and drew out a gorgeous valentine, an elaborate combination of hearts, doves, &c. " What do you think I gave for that?" he asked. ,` I don't know, I'm sure. It appears to be very elegant?" " It cost me tell dollars." "Whew!" whistled Wilbur. "It strikes me you are either very extrava gant or very devoted. May I know what fair damsel is to be made glad by the receipt of this elegant missive?" "'That's my secret," said Tom, laugh. lug `I don't mind telling you, how ever. It's to go to F o dith Castleton." " I presume you feel particularly in terested in the young lady ?." " Not at all. But I told her I would send her a valentine, et la voto ! Shan't you conform to the custom of the day?" " I had-not thought of it," said John, thoughtfully, "but I believe I will." " And what fair lady will you select as the recipient?" " You remember the poor seamstress who occupies an attic in the house." " Yes, I have met her on the steps two or three times." " She looks as if times were hard with her. I think send her a valentine." " And what good do you think it will do her?" asked Stacy in surprise. "Wait till you see the kind of valen tine I will send." 'Wilbur went to his desk, and taking out a sheet of paper, drew from his porte monnaie a ten-dollar bill, wrapped it in the paper on which he had previous ly written "From St. Valentine," and placed the whole in au envelope. " There," said he, " my valentine has cost as much as yours, and I venture to say it will be as welcome." " You are right. I wish now I had not bought this costly trifle. However, as it is , purehased, I will send it." The next day dawned clear aud frosty. It was lively enough for those who sat by comfortable tires and dined at luxurious tables, but for the poor who shared none of these advantages it was indeed a bit ter day. In an attic room, meanly furnished, sat a young girl, pale and thin. She was cowering over a scanty wood fire, the best she could afford, which heated the room very sufficiently. She was sewing steadily, shivering from time to time as the cold blast shook the win dow and found its way through the Ell= POor child! Life had a very black .aspect for her on that winter day. She was alone in the world. There was :absolutely no one on whom she could ,eall for assistance, though she needed it 13o.reay enough. The thought came to Pier more than once in her discomfort "Is it worth while living any longer?" But she recoiled from the sill of suicide. She might starve to death, but she would not take the life that God had given her. „ Plunged in gloomy thought she con tinued to work. All at once a step was heard ascending the staircase which led to her room. Then there was a knock at the door. She arose in some surprise and opened it, thinking it must be the landlady or one of the servants. She was right. It was a servant. "Here's a letter for you that the post boy Just brought, Miss Morris." "A letter for me!" repeated Helen Morris, in surprise, taking it froth the servant's hand. "Who can have writ ten to me ?" " Maybe it's a valentine, Miss," said the girl laughing. "You know this is Valentine's day. More by token, I've ,got two myself, this morning. One's a karakter(caricature?) so mistress calls it. Just look at it." Bridget displayed a highly embel lished pictorial representation of a female hard at work at the wash-tub, the cast , of beauty being decidedly Hibernian . Helen Morris laughed absently, but did not open her letter while Bridget remained—a little to the disappoint ment of that curious damsel. Helen slowly opened the envelope. A bank note for ten dollars dropped from it on the floor. She eagerly read the few words on the paper: "From St. Valentine." " Heaven be praised !" she said, fold ing her hands gratefully. " The sum will enable me to carry out the plan which I had in view." ' Eight years passed away. Eight years with their lights and shadows, their joys and sorrows. They brought with them the merry voices of children —they brought with them new-made graves—happiness to some and grief to others. Toward the last they brought the great commercial crisis of '57, when houses that seemed built upon a rock tottered all at once to their fall. Do not many remember that time all too well, when merchants with anxious faces, ran from one to another to solicit help, and met only averted faces and distrustful looks? And how was it in that time of univer sal famine with our friends—Stacy and Wilbur? Up to 1857 these had been doing an excellent business. They had gradually enlarged the sphere of their operations, and were rapidly growing rich when this crash came. They immediately took in sail. Both were prudent, and both felt that this was the tithe when this quality was ur gently needed. By great efforts they had suceeded in keeping up till the 14th of February, 1858. 'On that morning a note of two thousand dollars came due. This was their, last peril. That. surmounted, they :.would be able to go onwith assured eon fidenee... But; this alas! this was 'the - rock on which they had most apprehension, . . :'. ".• - ,-.. lx.,•"+ - -.1 '•.'.,:;•••.. - 1 "1 , ,, ~ .. :1 '.;-.);J .....-.:..i .....1 - ,,, • 1 •::::- •:*;:,ilt,:i, 1 , • ..1:i t.' , .., . ~. . . • • • ~•, ' ' • .. . ..1 1 t-- .:1 "l."..:;-• • , _ . 1 :).... . ' --.- . •=,., ' L.I :! . ....7 ' . "..! ' ..._ '-', - J D.:)"- , - I ..ra_.. - . 7 , ....1^ -: , ...-.• •• 1:.-...1; • • -' : : 1 '- - -•-••• J.J - •. 1F.... 10. .. ..i.e.e..!..: .....1_•- , •. . .•• . . _ I. - •' . ..• - ... • V - 1 . - .14t§ LS: tai L: . 1 . . . V. .1 .'' 1 ',..f.; i .:.!. d .I_. .11 , ... ... . • ...... . , _ ..., . ~ , - ... • .. ~. _ rll/11/11 / ~• , .i, ) ~,. . . r ..: : . '''''. ' •• iii. _ ~ , 'i -:. :: - n.:-: .! . ..: !::, ...i't 1 ••:,'.. ' L'i -:, .. . - ~', ... - , ~,- ; ... _.• . ~ • , • - ... . . .... .. . .. . , , . , . .... - .. . . '. . 1' . - . VOLUME 66. They had taxed their resources to the utmost. They had called upon their friends, but their friends were employed in taking care of themselves, and the selfish policy was the one required then. • - - "Look out for number one," sillier seded the golden rule for the time be- ing. As I have said, two thousand dollars were due on the Ist of February. " How much have you got to ward it ?" asked Wilber, as Stacy came in at half- past eleven. " Three hundred and seventy-five dollars," was the dispirited reply. "Was that all you could raise ?" in quired his partner, turning pale. "Are you sure you thought of everybody ?" " I have been everywhere. I'm fagged to death," was the weary reply of Stacy, as he sank exhausted into a chair. " Then the crash must come," said Wilbur, with a gloomy resignation. " I suppose it must." There was a silenoe. Neither felt in clined to say anything. For six months they bad been struggling with the tide. They could see shore, but in sight of it they must go down. At this moment a note was brought in by a boy. There was no postniar4i. Evidently he was a special messenger, It was opened at once by Mr. Wilbur, to whom it was directed• It contained tnese few words only; " If Mr. John Wilbur will call imme diately at Do Fifth avenue, he will learn sointhing to hi;sgreat advantage." There was no signature. John Wilbur read it with surprise, and passed it to his partner. " What does it mean, do you think?" " I don't know," was the reply, "but I advise you to go at once." " It seems to be in feminine hand writing," said Wilbur, thoughtfully. " Yes. Don't you know any lady on Fifth Avenue?" " None." " Well, it is worth noticing. We have met with so little to our advantage, lately, that it will be . a refreshing variety." In five minutes John Wilbur jumped into a horse car, and was on his way to No.—Fifth avenue. He walked up to the door of a mag nificent brown stone house and rang the bell. He was instantly admitted, and shown into the drawing-room, superbly furnished. He did not have to wait long. An el egantly dressed lady, scarcely thirty entered, and bowing, said, "You do no remember me, Mr. Wilbur ?" " No, madam," said he, in perplexity "We will waive that, then, and pro ceed to business. How has your house borne the crisis in which so many of our large firms have gone down ?" John Wilbur smiled bitterly. " We have struggled successfully till o-day," he answered. " But the end lEts come. Unless we can raise a cer ain sum of money by two, we are ruined." " What sum will save you ?" was the lady's question. " The note due is two thousand dol lars. Toward this we have but three hundred and seventy-five." txcuse me a moment," said the hostess. She left the room, but quickly returned. " There," said she, handing a small strip of paper to John Wilbur, "is my check for two thousand dollars. You can repay it at your convenience. If you should require more, come to me again." " Madam, you have. saved us," ex claimed Wilbur, springing to his feet in delight. " What can have inspired in you such abenevolent interest in our prosperity ?" "Do you remember, Mr. Wilbur," said the lady, " a certain valentine, con taining a ten dollar note, which you sent to a young girl occupying an attic room in your lodging-house, eighty ears since ." " I do, distinctly. I have often won dered what became of the young girl. I think her name was Helen Morris." "She stands before you," was the quiet response. " You Helen Morris !" exclaimed Wilbur, starting back in amazement. " You surrounded with luxury!" "No wonder you are surprised. Life has strange contrasts. The money which you sent me seemed to come from God. I was on the brink of de spair, and made application for the post of companion to a wealthy lady. I fortunately obtained it. I had been with her but two years when a gentle man in her circle, immensely wealthy, offered me his hand in marriage. I es teemed him. He was 'satisfied with that. I married him. A year since he died, leaving me this house and an im mense fortune. I have never forgotten you, having accidentally learned that my timely succor came from you. I re solved, if fortune ever put it in my power, I would befriend you as you befriended me. That time has come. I have paid the first instalment of my debt. Helen Eustace remembers the obligations of Helen Morris." John Wilbur advanced and respect fully took her hand. " You have nobly repaid me," he said. " Will you also award me the privilege of occasionally calling upon you ?" ' " I shall be most happy," said Mrs. Eustace, cordially. • John took a hurried leave, and re turned to his store as the clock struck one. He showed his delighted partner the check, which he had just received. "I haven't time to explain," he said; " this must at once be cashed." Two o'clock came, and the firm was saved—saved from their last peril.— Henceforth they met with nothing but prosperous gales. What more ? Helen Eustace has again changed her name. She is now Helen Wilbur, and her husband now lives at No. Fifth Avenue. And all this came of a Valentine. How to Cure a Felon As we often see friends suffering with this very troublesome disease, we copy the following from an exchange, which is highly recommended as a cure for it : "As soon as the part begins to swell, get the tincture of lobelia and wrap the part affected with cloth saturated thor oughly with this tincture, and the felon is dead. An old physician says he has known it to cure in scores of cases, and it never fails if applied in season." A lawyer, who was sometimes for getful, having been engaged to plead the case of an offender, began by saying : —" I know the prisoner at the bar, and he bears the character of being a most consummate and impudent scoundrel" Here somebody whispered to him that the prP3oner was his client, when he immediately continued: "But what great tind good man ever lived who was not calumniated by many of his con temporaries?" The Will. The old lady who related the outline of the following singular story, heard it told in her youth, by no means as a a fiction, but as a real occurrence. She even once knew the name of the northern family concerned in it; but hat. with the exact dates, she has now - - - _ forgotten, if she ever knew the latter, and having never written down the story, she had no means of recovering them. However, from her egpress mention of a tight wig, worn by the benevolent old hero of the tale, we have fixed the strange occurrence not earlier han the last century. Towards the end of a gnsty October day, about the year 1830, a barristar of the Temple was sitting reading, when the opening of the door, and he servant's announcement of "a gentlemeut," interrupted him. He rose to receive his visitor, who proved to be a perfect stranger, a person of very gentlemanly, but ex- teremely old-fashioned appearance He was dressed in a grave colored suit, of antique cut; a neat, tight, gray wig, surrounded his serious, and even solemn physiognomy ; silk stockings, rolled at the knee ; enormous shoe buckles of gold; a cane, headed with the same metal, and a broad-brimmed and un cooked hat, completed his equipment, which was in the fashion of the last years of William the Third, or the first of his successor. Having stiffly bowed, in the exact way prescribed by the eti quette of the era to which he seemed to belong, ha took possession of the chair offered to him by his host ; and, after a preparatory hem, thus began in a slow and serious manner : " I think, sir, you are the lawyer employed by the S— family, whose property in Yorkshire, you are, therefore, aware is about to be sold." " I have, sir," answered the barrister " full instructions and powers to com plete the disposal of it, which, though a painful duty to me, must be per formed." " It is a duty you may dispense with,', said the visitor, waving his hand ; "the property need not be sold." "May I presume to ask, sir, whether you are any relation to the family ? If so, you must be acquainted with the absolute necessity of selling it, in con sequence of the claim of another branch of the family, just returned from be yond sea, who, as heir-at-law, is natur ally possessor of the estate, in default of of a will to the contrary, and who de sires its value in money, instead of the laud. The present pos'sessor is unable to buy it, and must therefore depart." " You are mistaken," replied the old gentleman, rather testily ;.," you seem not to know or the will of Mr. S great grandfather, by which he not only left that, his real estate, to his favorite grandson, this gentleman's father, but even entailed it on his greatgreat great- grandson." '• Such a will, sir," said the barrister, "was, indeed, supposed for many years to exist ; and, in virtue of it, Mr. 5 has, until now, peaceably enjoyed the property; but, on the claimant's appli cation, a renewed search having been made for it, either the belief proves wholly unfounded, or it has been lost or destroyed. Cabinets, chests, every room inhabited and uninhabited, have been ransacked in vain. Mr. 5 has now given up all hope of finding it ; the sale is to be completed in the course of next week ; and the fine old place must pass into the hands of strangers." " You are mistaken once again, young man," said the stranger, striking his cane on the floor; "I say, sir, the will exists. Go immediately," continued he, in an authoritative tone; "travel night and day. You may save an old family from disgrace and ruin. In the end room of the left wing, now un inhabited, is a closet in the wall." " We have looked there," interrupted the barrister. " Silence, sir ; there is a closet, I say. In that closet is a large chest ; that chest has a false bottom, and underneath that is the deed. I am certain of what I say; I saw the paper deposited there, no matter when or by whom. Go, you will find it worth your trouble. My name, sir, is Hugh S—. I am not now personally known to the proprietor of S— Hall ; but I am his relation, and have his welfare at heart. Neglect not to follow my advice."• So saying, the old gentleman rose, again bowed, and at the door put on his hat, in a fashion that would have en chanted an rfrgante of Queen Anne's day ; and sliding the silken string of his cane on the little finger of his right hand, on which the lawyer had remark ed a very fine brilliant ring, he descend ed the stairs and departed, leaving the barrister iu the utmost astonishment. At first lie felt half inclined to consider the whole as a hoax ; then, again, when he thought of the old gentleman's grave manner, and the intimate knowledge he must have possessed of the house, to be able to describe the closet so exactly in which the chest was, he could not but believe him be sincere. At length, after much deliberation, he decided upon immediate departure • and arrived on the evening of thefourth day, at S Hall. The sale had been the only theme of conversation at every place he had passed through within twenty miles of his destination; and much and loudly was it lamented, that the squire should be leaving his house forever, and that poor Mr. John would never enjoy his rights•as they persisted in calling the possession of the estate. On the entrance into the man sion, signs of approaching removal everywhere met his eye. Packages filled the hall, servants, with sorrowful countenances, were hurOingabout, and the family were lingering 'sadly over the last dinner they were ever to par take of in their old, regretted home. Mr. S. greeted his friend with a sur prise, which changed to incredulity, when the barrister, requesting his pri vate ear, declared the reason of his ap pearance. " It cannot be," said he. " Is it likely that no one should ever have heard of the hiding of the deed but the old gen tleman you mention ? Depend upon it, you have been deceived, my dear friend. I am only sorry you should have taken so much trouble to so little purpose." The barrister mentioned the name of his visitor. " Hugh S—!" exclaimed the gen tleman, laughing, " I have not a rely tion in the world of that name." "It is worth the trying, however," said the lawyer, "and since I have come so far, I will finish the adven ture." Mr. S-, seeing his friend so de termined, at length consented to'satisfy him, and accompanied him toNyardSpie apartment he specified,. .As'they cross ed one of the rooms, in their way; he suddenly stopped before. a ••large full- LANCASTER, PA.,_ WEDNESDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 25, 1865 length picture. "For heaven's sake," cried he, " who is this!" "My granduncle, 'returned Mr. S—, " a good old fellow as ever lived. I wish with all my heart he was alive now ; but he has been dead these thirty years." " What was his name." " Hugh S—, the only one of the family of that name." " That is the man who called upon me. His dress, his hat, his very ring are there." They proceeded to the closet, lifted the false bottom of the trunk, and— found the deed! The kind old uncle was never again seen. The Slighted Scholar. Cases like the one I am about to re ate are much too frequent in our coun- ry, and they are such, too, as should be guarded against by all who have an in- terest in education brought to my mind by the parent of a boy, who had been grossly neglected, simply because he was very poor and comparatively without friends ! Many years ago, when I was a small boy, I attended school in the town of . Among the scholars there was one named George Henry. His father was a poor, drinking man, and the un- fortunate boy had to suffer in conse- (pence. George came to school habited in ragged garments—but they were all he had. He was rough and uncouth in manners, for he had been brought up in this way. He was very ignorant, for the simple reason that he never had the opportunity of education. Season after season, poor George Hen- •y occupied the same seat in the school room ; it was a bael; corner seat, away from the rest of the seholars—aad there he thumbed his tattered primer. The ragged caudition of his garb gave a homely cast to his whole appearance, and what intelligence there was in his countenance wasbeclouded by the "out- er coverings" of the boy. He seldom played with other children, for they seemed to shun him, but when he for a while joined with them in their sports, he was so rough that he was soon shov ed out of the way. The teacher passed the poor boy cold in the street, while other boys, in better attire, were kindly noticed. In the school, young Henri was coldly treated. The teacher neglected him, and called him an " idle blockhead," because he did not learn. The boy re ceived no incentive to study, and conse quently he was most of the time idle, an idlenesss which begat his disposition to while away his time in mischief.-- For this he was whipped, and the more idle and careless he became. He knew that he was neglected by the teacher, simply because he was poor and ragged, an I with a sort of sullen indifference, sharpened at times by feelings of bitter ness, he plodded on his dark and path less way. Thus matters went on for several years. Most of the scholars who were of Henry's age had passed to the higher branches of study, while he, poor fel low, still spelled words of one or two syllables, and still kept his distant seat in the corner. His father had sunk deeper into the pit of inebriety, and the unfortunate boy was more wretched than ever. The look of clownish indifference which had marked his countenance, was now giving way to a shade of un happy thought and feeling, and it was evident that the great turning point of life was at hand. He stood now in the step of life from which the fate of after years must take rest. At this time a man by the name of Kelly, took charge of the school. He was an old teacher and careful observer of human nature, and really a good man. Long years of guardianship over wild youths had given him a bluff, authori tative way, and in his discipline he was strict and unwavering. The first day he passed at the teacher's desk ofour school, he was mostly devoted to watching the movements 6f the scholars, and studying the disposition of those with whom he had to deal. Upon George Henry his eye rested with a keen, searching glance, but evidently made little of him during the first day, yet on the second he paid more atten tion. It was during the afternoon of the second day that Mr. Kelly observed young Henry engaged in stringing flies upon a pin. He went to the boy's seat and reprimanded him for his idleness and took up the tattered book from the desk. "Have you never learned more than is in this book?" asked the teacher. "No, sir," said the boy. " How long have you been attending school?" "Ever since I can remember." " Then you must be an idle, reckless boy," said the teacher with much sever ity. "Do you realize how many years you have thrown away? Do you know how much you have lost? What sort of a man do you think of inakin.4 in this way? One of these days you will be too old to go to school, and then, while your companions are seeking some honorable employment, you will be good for nothing. Have you a fath er and mother ?" "Yes, sir," said the boy in a hoarse , ' subdued voice. "And do they wish you to grow up in ignorance ?"' The boy hung down his head and was silent; but Mr. Kelly saw great tears roll down his cheeks. In an instant the teacher saw thathe had something more than an idle, stubborn mind to dealwith in the ragged scholar before him. He laid his hand upon the boy's head and in a kind tone said : " I wish you to stop after school is dismissed. Don't be afraid, I wish to assist you if I can." George looked wonderingly into the master's face, for there was something in the tone of the voice that fell upon his ear that sounded strange to him, and he thought as he looked around that the rest of the scholars regarded hiin with kinder countenances than usual. A dim thought broke in upon his mind that for some cause he was going to be happier than he was before. After school was dismissed, George remained in his seat till the teacher call ed him up to his desk. " Now," said Mr. Kelly, " I wish to ,know why it is that you have never learned any more. You look bright, and you look as though you might make a smart man. Why is it that I - find you - so ignorant?" - "Because no one ever helps me," re plied the boy. " Nobody. cares for me, sir; for I am poor." ' By . degfees the',kind hearted teacher _got the whore the Poor'boils histOkY, _and while , the generous tears: bedikwed his eyei3, he said: "You have been • 'Vv" ropey 'treated, George, but there is a time yet for, re demption. If I will try to . teach you, will you try to learn?" "Yes—Oh, yes," quickly uttered the boy in earnest tones. " Yes—l should like to learn. I don't want to be a bad boy," he thrillingly added, while his face glowed with animation. Mr. Kelly promised to purchase books for the boy as fast as he could learn to read them, and when George Henry left the schoolroom that evening his face was wet with tears. We scholars who had remained in the entry, and saw him come out, had our hearts warmed towards the poor boy. We spoke kindly to him and walked with him to his house, his heart was too full for utterance. On the next day George Henry com menced to study in good earnest, and the teacher helped him faithfully. Never did I see a change so radiant and so sudden as that which took place in the habits of the poor boy. This incident was As soon as the teacher treated with kindness and respect, the scholars followed the example, and the result was, that they found in the unfortunate youth one of the most noble-hearted, generous, accommodating and truth ful playmates in' the world. Long years have passed since those school-boy days. George Henry has become a man of middle age, and in all the country there is not a man more beloved and respected than be is. And all is the result of one teacher having done his duty. You who are school teachers, remem ber the responsibility thatdevolves upon you. In this country of free schools there should be no distinction between classes. All are alike entitled to your care and counsel, and the weaker the child, the more earnest should be your endeavor to lift him up and aid him. Many years ago a gentleman, followed by a servant in livery, rode into an inn in the west of England one evening a little before dusk. He told the landlord that lie should be detained by business in that part of the country for a few days, and wished to know if there were any amusementsgoing on in the town to fill up the intervals of time. The land lord that it was their assize week, and be would, therefore, be at no loss to pass away his leisure hours. On the gentleman making answer that this was fortunate, for he was fond of hear ing trials, the other said that a very in teresting case of robbery would come on the next day, on which the people's opin ions were much divided, the evidence being very'strong against the prisoner, but the man persisted resolutely in de claring that he was in a distant part of the kingdom at the time the robbery was committed, The guest Manifested considerable anxiety to hear the trial, but as the court would probably be crowded, expressed some doubt of getting a place. The landlord told him there could be diffi culty in a gentleman of his appearance getting a seat, but that, to prevent any accident, he would himself go with him and speak to one of the beagles. Accord ingly they went into court next morn ing, and through the landlord's interest with the officer of the court, the gentle man was shown to a seat on the bench. Presently the trial began. While the evidence was proceeding against him, the prisoner had remained with his eyes fixed on the floor, seem ingly very much depressed ; till being called on for his defence he looked up, and seeing the stranger, he suddenly fainted. This excited some surprise, and it seemed at first, like a trick to gain time. As soon as he came to him self being asked by the judge the cause of his behavior, he said : " Oh, my. lord, I see a person who can save my life; that gentleman," pointing to the stranger, "can prove I am inno cent ; might I only have leave to put a few questions to him?" The eyes of the whole court were now turned upon the gentleman, who said he felt in a very awkward situation to be called upon, as he did not remember ever to have seen the man before, but that he would answer any question that was asked him. " Well, then, said the man, don't you recollect landing at Dover at such a time ?" To this the gentleman anwered that he could not tell whether it was on the day mentioned or not. " saidhe, " but don'tyou recol lect that a person in blue jacket and trowsers carried your trunk to the inn?" To this he answered that of course some person had carried hiis trunk for him, but that he did not know what dress he wore. " But," said the prisoner, " don't you remember that the person who went with you from the boat told you a story of his being in the service, that he showed you a scar he had on one side of his forehead ?" During this last question the face of the stranger underwent a considerable change. Ile said he certainly did recol lect such a circumstance; and on the man's pushing his hair aside and show-, ing the scar, he became quite sure that he saw the same person. A buzz of satisfaction ran through the court ; for the day on which, according to the prisoner's account, the gentleman had met him at Dover, was the same on which he was charged with the robbery in a distant part of the country. The' stranger, however, could not be certain of the time, but said that he sometimes made a memorandum of dates in his pocket-book, and might possibly have done so on this occasion. On turning to his pocket-book, he found a memo random of the time he landed, which corresponded with the prisoner's asser tion. This being the only circumstance necessary to - prove the alibi, the prisoner was immediately acquitted, amidst the applause and congratulations of the whole court. Within less than a month after this, the gentleman who came to the inn at tended by the servant in livery; the ser vant who followed him and the prisoner who had been acquitted, were all three brought back together 'for robbing the mail! It turned out that this ulever defence at the trial was a scheme skillfully ar ranged by the thief l s confederates to obtain'the release of their accomplice. An Ingenious Defence —.lt is said that the late Chief Baron Thompson was avery facetious compan ion over the bottle, which he much en joyed. At one - of-the judge's dinners during the:assizes; there Wini present a certain dignitary - crr tlie -church: When the cloth was renioved,"lllways think," said the rexerend guest, .1 1 always ;thibk , •my liard, , that - a dertaitt;civaritity of wine 'does& mannolharmalteragood !dinner 2''r f!Ob np ea. XL a ri' ,replied ; the. Chlef n 443.ufa„- 'certain q.ufchtiV - , ) dikeist i t : : 7 Story of a Woman's Career An English paper says: "An inci dent is just now being discussed inmili tary circles so extraordinary, that were not its truth vouched for by official authority, the narration would certainly be deemed absolutely incredible. Our officers quartered at the Cape between fifteen and twenty years ago, may re member a certain Dr. Barry, attached to the Medical Staff here, and enjoying a reputation for considerible skill in his profession, especially for firmness, de cision and rapidity in difficult opera tions. This gentleman had entered the army in 1813, had passed, of course, through the grades of Assistant Sur geon in various Regiments, and had served as such in various quarters of the globe. His professional acquire ments had procured for him his promo tion to the staff at the Cape: He was clever and agreeable, save for the draw back of a most quarrelsome temper and an inordinate addiction to argument; which perpetually brought the former peculiarity into play. He was exces sively plain, of feeble proportions, and labored uuder the imperfection of a lu dicrously squeaking voice. Any natural " chaffing" with regard to these, how ever, especially aroused his ire, but was at length discontinued on his " calling out" a persevering offender, and shoot ing him through the lungs. About 1840 he became promoted to be Medical inspector, and was transferred to Malta. There he was equally dis tinguished by his skill and by his pug nacious propensities, the latter becom ing so inconveniently developed upon the slightest difference of opinion with him, that at last no notice was allowed to be taken of his tits of temper. He proceeded from Malta to Corfu, where he was quartered for many years, still conspicuous for the same peculiarities. When our Government ceded the lonian Islands to Greece, and our troops, of course, quitted the territory, D. Barry elected was to leave the army and take up his residence for the rest of his days at Corfu. He there died about amouth ago, and, upon his death, was discovered to be a woman! Very probably this discovery was elicited dur ing the natural preparation for inter ment, but there seems to bean idea pre valent that either verbally, during the last illness, or by some writing, perused immediately after his (for we must still use the masculine,) death, he had beg ged to be buried without a post mortem examination of any sort. This, most likely, only aroused the curiosity of the two nurses who attended him; for, it was to them, it appears, that a disclosure of this mystery is ow ing. Under the circumstances, the fact was deemed so important that medical testimony was called in to report upon and record its truth. By this investi gation, not only was the assertion placed beyond a doubt brought to light that the individual in question had at some time been a mother! This is all yet known of this extraordinary story The motives that occasioned, and the time when commenced this singular de ception, are both shrouded in mystery. But thus it stands an indubitable fact, that a woman was forty years an officer in the British service, had fought one duel and had sought many more, had pursued a legitimate medical education, had received a regular diploma, and had acquired almost a celebrity for skill as a surgical operator!" Good Wife A translation of a Welsh Triad : She is modest, void of deceit and obe Pure of conscience, gracious of ton gue, and true to her husband. Her heart not proud, her manners affable, and her bosom full of compas sion for the poor. Laboring to be tidy, skillful of hand, and fond of praying to god. Her conversation amiable, tier dress decent and her house orderiy. Quick of hand, quick of eyes,and quick of understanding. Her person shapely, Tier manners agreeable, and her heart innocent. Her face benignant, her head intelli gent, and provident. Neighborly, gentle, and of a liberal way of thinking. Able in directing, providing what is wanting, and a a good mother to her children. Loving her husband, loving peace, and loving God. Happy is the man who possesses such a wife. Outrages by Negro Soldiers. From the Raleigh Standard, Oct. OUTRAGE. IN NORTH CAROLINA On Saturday night last, about2o'clock, some armed negroes made au attack on the front door of Harry 0. Parker, Esq., residing some three miles south of this city, with intent to break in. Mr. Par ker rose in his night clothes, got his double barreled gun, and when the robbers broke through one of the panels of the door he aimed and attemp ted to shoot, but the cap was defective, and the gun did not go of. The robber then drew off, appeared to consult with some comrades at his front gate, and soon they went round to the back dool, broke in, took Mr. Parker out in the yard, struck him over the head with a musket, and whipped him with heavy switches. They then sent him some fifty yards froth his house, while they went in and plundered. They stole money, wearing apparel, bed clothes, bacon, brapdy, and everything they could take with them. Mrs. Parker, who fled to the kitchen for safety, was insulted and roughly treated by • these desperate characters. Mr. Parker is a most worthy and loyal citizen. [From the Huntsville .4 divca , c.l OUTRAGE IN ALABAMA. We have the most reliable private in telligence from Decatur, Alabama, that the colored troops at that place have been guilty of very great enormities. They made a raid on the premisesof Mr. Thomas Gibbs, one of our most respect able planters, and who took the oath in 1862, killing his hogs,