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J. M. Coots%
'ALFRED SiNDEßsoff
WM. AI, NORTON,
TDRKS—Twis Dollars per 4nm:on, payable
:all cases advance.:::: ,
oFFlCE—Sorrawn.r comma. RP CENTRE
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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,
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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, <kc. He taking
some steps to stop the trespass, entirely
moderate in their character, was shot at
several times and his house fired into
after he had entered. it. A few days
after this they returned at night, surf
rounded his house, fired into it, forced
open his door, swearing tney would kill
him, demanded his money, searched
his drawers, &c., and , would have killed
him had he not escaped. They did not
personally maltreat his family, except
by, the terror created by their threats
and conduct. They then went to the
house of Mr. Wilds, on lir. Gibbs' plan
tation, demanded his money, demanded
Gibbs' moneY, killed hogs, fowls, &c.,
and adjourned to Decatur, firing guns,
&c., on their way.
The Census of Minnesota—The Crops
The Commissioner of the General
Land office received on Monday. from
St, Paul, Minn., alletter dated 2d inst.,
which says that the recent census indi
cates a rapid ii crease in the population
of that State,. e.specially in the Southern
4ietricts. .The yield of the crops. this
-year. Will• surpass, that of any lormer
year, the - average product of wheat to
the acre being twenty-five bushels.
Yourfor r the railroad" ccuripanies in the
State . are, adVsiOisiag for .five hundred
laborers eaCb. Labor is very high and
is ceintrupidlng two dollars And r a half
Pef
NUMBER 42.
iortthnuouo.
Bill Arp Addresses Artemis Ward.
Roam, GA., September 1,4865.
Mr. Arternus Ward, Showman—Sur:
The resun I write to you in pertickler I
are bekaus you are about all the man
know in all God's country," so-called.
For sum several weeks I hav been
wantin to say sumthin. For sum sev
eral years we rebs, so-called, but now
late of said country deceased, have been
tryin mity hard to do sumthin. We
didn't quite do it, and now it's very
painful, I assure you, to dry up all of a
sudden and make out like we wasn't
thar.
My frend, I want to say sumthin. I
suppose there is no law agin thinkin,
but thinkin don't help me. It don't let
down my thermometer. I must ex
plode myself generally so as to feel bet
ter. You see I'm tryin to harmonize.
I'm tryin to soften down my feelins.
I'm endeavoring to subjugate myself to
the level of surroundin circumstances,
so-called. But I can't do it until lam
allowed to say sumthin. I went to quar
rel with sumbody and then make
friends. I tint no giant-killer. I aint
no boar-constrikter ; but I'll be horn
swaggled if the talkin and the writin
and the slanderin has got to be all done
on one side any longer. Sum of your
folks have got to dry up or turn our
folks loose. It's a blamed outrage, so
called. Aint your editors got nothin
else to do but to peck at,us, and squib at
us, and crow over us? Is every man
what kan write a paragraf to consider
us as bars in a cage,. and be always a
jobbin at us to hear us growl? Now
you see, my frend, that's what's dishar
monious, and do you jest tell em, one
and all, e pluribus unum, so-called, that
if they don't stop it at once, or turn us
loose to say what we please, why we
rebs, so-called, have unanimously and
jointly and severally resolved to—to—to
think very hard of it—if not harder.
That's the way to talk it. I ain't
agwine to commit myself. I know:when
to put on the brakes. I aint agwine to
say all I think, like Mr. Etheridge, or
Mr. ildderig, so-called. Nary time.—
No, sir. But I'll jest tell you, Artemus,
and you may tell it to your sow If we
aint allowed to express our sentiments,
we can take it out in hatin; and hatin
runs heavy in my family, sure. I hated
a man so bad once that all the hair cum
off my head, and the mandrowned him
self in a hog-wailer that night. I kould
I do it agin, but you see I'm tryin to har
monize, to acquiesce, to bekum kalrn
and screen. •
Now I suppose that,,poetikally speak-
"In Male's fall
We sinned all.
But talkin the way I see it, a big feller
and a little feller so-called, got into a fite,
and they fout and fout and fout a long
time, and everybody all round kept hol
lerin hands oft', but kep helpin the big
feller, until finally the little feller caved
in and hollered enuf. He mad a bully
fite I tell you, Selah. Well what did
the big feller do? take him by the hand
and help him np, and brush the dirt of
his clothes? Nary time! No, sur ! But
he kicked him arter he was down, and
drug him about and rubbed sand in his
eyes, and now he's gwine about huntin
up his poor little property. Wants to
confiscate it, so-called. Blame my jack
et i f it aint enuf to make your head swim.
But Pin agoodUnion man—so-callea.
laint agwine to fite no more. /shan't
vote for the next war. lain't no gurilla.
I've gone andtuk the oath,and I'mgwine
to keep it, but as for my bein subjugated,
and humilyated, and amalgamated, and
enervated, as Mr. Chase says, it aint so
—nary time. I ain't ashamed of nuthin
neither—ain't repentin—ain't axin for
no one horse, shortwinded pardon.
Nobody needn't be playin priest around
me. I ain't got no twenty thousand
dollars. Wish I had ; I'd give it to
these poor widers and orfrns. I'd. fatten
my numerous and interestin offspring
in about two minits and a half. They
shouldn't eat roots' and drink branch
water no longer. Poor, unfortuate
things ! to cum into this subloonary
world at sich a time. There's four or
five of 'em that never saw a sirkus nor
a monkey show—never had a pocket
knife, nor a piece of cheese, nor a reesin.
There is Bull Run Arp, and Har
per's Ferry Arp, and Chickahominy
Arp that never seed the pikters in a
spelling book., I tell you my frend,
we are the poorest people on the face of
the earth, but we are poor and proud.
We made a bully fite, Selah! and the
whole Amerikin nation ought to feel
proud of it. It shows what Amerik ins
can do when they think they are im
posed on—" so-called." Didn't our four
fathers fite, bleed and die about a little
tax on tea, when not one in a thousan
drunk it? Bekaus they sukseeded,
wasent it glory? But if they hadent I
supposed it would have been treason,
and they would have been bowin and
scrapin round King George for pardon.
So it goes, Artemus, and to my mind, if
the whole thing was stewed down, it
would make about a half a pint oflium
bug. We had good men, great men,
Christian men, who thought we was
right, and many of 'em have gone to the
undiskovered country, and have got a
pardon as is a pardon. When I die,
I'm mity willin to risk myself under
the shadow of their wings, whether the
climate be hot or cold. So mote it be.
Selah!
Well, maybe I've said enuf. But I
don't feel easy yit. I'm a good Union
man, sertin and sure. -I've had my
breeches died blue, and I've bot a blue
bucket, and I very often feel blue, and
about twice in a while I go to the dog
gery and git blue, and then I look up at
the blue serulean heavens and sing the
melankolly choryus of the Blue-tailed
Fly. I'm doin my durndest to har
monize, and I think I could sucseed if
it wasent for sum things. When I see
a black-guard goin around the streets
with a gun on his shoulder, why right
then, for a few minutes, I hate the
whole Yanky nation. Jerusalem, how
my blood biles. The institution what
was banded down to us by the heavenly
kingdom of Massachusetts now put over
us with powder and ball! Harmonize
the devil! Ain't we human beings?
Ain't we got eyes and ears and feelin
and fhinkin ? Why the whole of
Afriky has come to town, women and
children and babies and baboons and
all. A man can tell how fur it is to the
city by the smell better than the mile
post. They won't work for us, and they
won't work for themselves, and they'll
perish to death this winter as shore as
the devil is a hog, so-called. They are
now baskin' in the summer's sun, liv
in on roastin ears and freedom, with
nary idee that the winter will cum
agin, or that castor oil and salts cost
money. Sum of 'ern, a hundred years
old, are whinin around about goin to
cawledge. The truth is, my trend,
sumbody's badly fooled about this biz
ness. Sumbody has drawd the elefant
in the lottery, and don't know what to
do with him. He's jest throwin his
snout abouti loose, and by-and-by he'll
hurtsum body. These niggers will have
to go back to the plantations and work.
I ain'tagoin to support nary one of 'em ;
and when you hear anybody say so,
you tell 'em "it's a lie," so-called. I
golly, I ain't got nuthin to support my
self on. We fout ourselvesout of every
thing exceptin children and land, and I
suppose the land are to be turned over
to the niggers for grave-yards.
Well, my frend, I don't want much.
I aint ambitious, as I used to was. Yoa
all have got you'r shows and monkeys
and sir-kusses and brass bands and or
gins, and can play on the petrolydm
and the harp of a thousand strings, and
so on, but I've only got one favor to ax
of you. I want enuf powder to kill a
big yeller stem-tail dog that prowls
round my premises at night. Pon honor,
I won't shoot at anything blue or black
or mulatter. Will you send it? Are
you, and your foaksso skeered of me and
my foaks, that you won't let us have
any amynishun? Are the sqnirrels and
urows . and .black rakoons to eat up our
poor little corn patches? Are the wild
turkeys to gobble all around us with im
punity ? If a mad-dog takes the hider
foby, lathe whole commtuiitY to . run
Itself to death to get.out of the way?—
I golly r"lt looks'llke' your pepul, had
all tuk the rebelibbr for good; and 'was
• '7: 4104 k, __ .
Bursoirsiia . • in a ear_ per
squarcrattetfllues - Retitle - rissiitereiise for* .
fractions of *year.- , ( 1 ; „, , ,s , •,..
BELL EstATIS;BMS” z'ONALYStirlfirrY;and Oslo
ZRAIi Anyintrlstria 7 cents a line for the
flnrt, and 4 cents • for each subsequent /Mier
Pan= itfarMOOSSB ' al4:•etker sid7ei'S• by ta ' A
Column: '
. One column; 1 •
Half coluran;.l 6O •
Third column, I 40 '
, Quarter column,-.... • SO
Quarter
Allns, of ten lines Or.leefst
one year lO • . r
Business darclaWatn;i7r - rar,ai,
year, .. .... ...... . . 0
LSOAL ion; Wilms, Sfa;rfiiii-:
Executors' n0tice5.....„.... 2.00 .
Administrators* notii ...... 200_
Assignees' notices, ................. ..:-.--.... 2.00
Auditors' notices " 1.50
Other Notices, ',ten lines, or less,
- three Clines .... .50
Fal f igtitA
. • ,
never gwine to git over it. See here,
my frend, you must send me a little
powder and a ticket to your show, and
me and you will harmonize sertin..
With these few remarks Ithink I feel
better, and hope I haint made nobody
fitin mad, for I'm not on that line at
this time. lam trooly your frend—all
present or accounted for.
BILL ARP, so-ea/led.
P. S.—Old man Harris wanted to buy
my fiddle the other day with Confedrik
money. He said it would be good agin.
He says that Jim4 . underbuk told him
that Warren's Jack seed arman who had
jest cum from Virginny, and he sed a
man told his cousin Mandy that Lee
had whipped 'em agin. Old Harris says
that a man by the name of Mack. C.
Million is coming over with a million
of men. But nevertheless, notwith
standing, somehow or somehow else,
I'm dubus about the money. If you
was me, A rtemus, would you make the
fiddle trade?
Manufactures of Guns in EnglandMur
lug the War.
At the British Association for the ad
vancement of sciendb, which met at
Birmingham, England, last month, the
following statement was made, respect
ing the manufactures of arms in Eng
land :
One of the various report relating to
the local industries of Birmingham gave
an interesting account of the manufac
ture of small arms. It appeared, from
the report, that 6,116,302 guns and pis
tols were proved in England from 1855
to 1864. From the returns I have in my
possession, I have drawn out, as accu
rately as I possibly can, the number of
arms manufactured in Birmingham and
elsewhere for the Americans during the
last four years. The first shot was fired
at Fort Sumter on the 12th of April,
1861. On the 9th of May following, five
purchasers of arms, some commissioned
by difThrent Northern States, others by
private speculators, arrived in Birming
ham. Each had so well kept secret the
object of his mission that when they
found themselves all engaged in Bir
mingham on the same errand, they sus
pected each other of purchasing for the
enemy, and their anxiety was increased
accordingly to secure the few thousand
arms that were in store in Birmingham.
The few in hand were at once shipped
off, and large orders were given, which
continued to occupy the trade at their
full power with one interval till March;
1863. The interval I allude to was on
the occurrence of the Trent affair in
November, 1861, which led to an em
bargo being laid on the export of arms
on the sth of December 1861. This em
bargo was removed early in 1862. On
the removal of the embargo one steamer
took out from Southampton no less
than 40,000 rifles to New York. The
trade worked at its fail power,
straining every nerve till, I find
by the return from the Birming
ham proof house, that in one month,
the month of October, 1863, 60,355 rifle
barrels were proved, being very few
short of two thousand per day from Bir
mingham alone—a number unprecedent
ed in the history of the trade. At that
time the supplies produced in America,
at the Springfield armory and elsewhere,
began to tell upon the demand. We
Still find, however, that numbers were
forty to fifty thousand per month till
March, 1862. They then fell to fourteen
thousand per month, till in September
1862, the Northern demand ceased alto
gether without notice. The orders were
suspended, and guns, that had been scut,
over, were even returned to this coun
try. The United States Government
found at that time their factories were
equal to supply the whole demand.
From the proof-house returns I obtain
the following numbers,'showing the ex
tent of the supply of arms from this
country to America ; Birmingham sup
plied 672,534 ; London, 344,802; making
a total number of Enfield rifles sent M
America of 1,027,836.
Shoemaking by Horse Power
The genius of mechanism has invad
ed the realm of Saint Crispin, and shoes
are hereafter to be manufactured by
horse power instead of hand. The
Haverhill Banner has the following:
Now that it has been fully demon
strated that shoe-making is to be done
by teams, and eventually in a regular
factory, workmen must try to accommo
date themselves to this altered state of
things. ' It will soon be impossible for
workmen to take out their cases of shoes
and come to town once in a fortnight to
bring them - in and settle. The first re
quisite is boarding plabes or tenements,
and whoever has the capital and energy
to take the matter now and putup board
ing houses built with some sort of refer
ence to the wants of a decent boarding
house, and small neat tenement houses,
will not only make money, but confer a
great favor on the shoe trade. It is al
ways for the interest of real estate own
ers to have our population a permanent
one and this can of course only be secur
ed by offering people decent homes. A
Workingmen's Blinding Association
has been successfully operated in France,
and could be tried here with equal pros
pect of success.
It is reported on the street, that Mr.
Chas. C. Coffin has purchased the lot of
I 'land on Washington street, known as
the Hovey lot, and the house east of it,
which is to be moved off, and a largp
building is to be erected on the spot for
the manufacture of shoes.
D. D. Chase and Brothers, have com
menced laying the foundation of a build
ing, on a lot of land, near the depot.
When finished, it is to be used by them
as a shoe manufactory.
Financial Affairs
The Philadelphia Ledger has the fol.
lowing sensible remarks in its monetary
article :
Gold is pointing upward, and was
quoted yesterday at noon at Hill @HQ.
Some inconsiderate persons look on
this advance in gold, as it is called, but
what is really a depreciation of paper
currency, as a matter of no concern,
prices equalizing and adjusting 'them
selves to the changes almost as soon as
made. This is true to some extent, but
there are many cases in which the fluc
tuations in the price of gold operate un
equally and unjustly. The advance just
now, in the favorable condition of the
national finances and the absence
of any hostile news from abroad,
or of any sinister apprehen
sions at home, is awakening grave
concern in financial circles. The com
paratively large premium is a matter of
considerable importance to all classes in
the community. While it continues at
the. present rate, or at any great excess
over the issues of legal-tender notes,
based on the national credit, there is
with every day's expenditure a large
addition to the public debt, and our cur
rent disbursements and aggregate in
debtedness are made greater by just so
much as the purchasing power of the
currency is less than that of specie.—
When hereafter we pay our debt in
gold, we shall have to return gold
dollars for what has been re
ceived on a depreciated paper valua
tion. And should auy consider
siderable portion of our debt become per
manent, the burden of the annual in
terest, in coin, will of course be increased
in the ratio of the debasement of legal
tenders. It seems impossible to have a
settled and satisfactory regulation of the
prices of labor and the necessaries of life
while the purchasing power of the na
tional currency, as compared with that
of specie, Is liable to such perturbations
and irregularities as have been caused
by the redundancy and other defects of
our paper money. It is in respect to
considerations of this character that the
declarations of Secretary McCulloch, to
bring the currency up to a specie stan
dard, are of most importance. His Tn.
diana speech, and his successful man
agement of the Treasury Department,
in steadily reducingthe public debt, are
in the right direction, and lead to the
hope that a resumption of specie pay
ments is less remote than was feared. ,
— . General Beauregarcl will be Saperin=
tendent of the - New Orleans and ,TaokaOrt
railroad. • •