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One Year Ago.
What stars have faded from our sky!
What hopes unfolded but-todlol
What dreams ho fondly ponderod o’er,
Forever lost the hues they wore!
How like a death-knell, sad and slow*
Toils through the soul, *• one year ago.”
Where Is tho foco we loved to greet,
The form thut graced the fireside seat,
The gentle smile, the winning way,
T at blessed our 11 1'0-patiJ day by day ?
Where fled those accents soft and low.
That thrlllod our hearts M one year ago 7”
Ah. vacant is the fireside chair: (fa
Tho smile that won, no longer there; >
From door and hall, and porch and lawn,lt
The echo of the voice is gone; \
•And wo who linger only Know
How much wus lost "one your ago.”
Reside her grave tlio marble white
Keeps silent guard by day and night:
Serene she sleeps, nor heeds tho trend
Of loot'tops o’er lier lowly bed;
Her pulsi'lesHbroast may know
The pangs of life " ono year ago.”
But why repine ? A few more years,
A few more broken sighs uud tears,
And we, enlisted with the dead,
Shall Jollow w ere hor slops havo led;
To tlmU’ur world rololclnggo
To which Him passed ** one year ago.”
PtaWM}.
Adjun’s Fall.
A favorite temperauee lecturer down
South used to relate the following anec
dote to illustrate the influence of a bad
example in the formation of habits ruin
ous iii their efl'ect:
Adam and Mary, his wife, were very
good members of the church ; good sort
of folks any way, quite Industrious and
thriving in the world.
Whenever the minister called to make
Mary a visit, which was often, she con
trived to have a glass of good toddy
made, and the minister never refused to
imbibe.
After awhile Adam got to following
the example of the minister to such an
extent that he became a drunkard
drunk up everything he had and all he
could get. Mary and Adam became
very poor in consequence of his follow
ing the minister’s example so closely,
but tiie good minister continued still to
get his glass of toddy. One day
ed in aud told Mary lie was going Way
for a week —should return on Friday—
and handed her a book contaiuiug-the
catechism, and told her \C6ei^ he_re
turned he should tt>—answer*
the questions. and laid
away the book carefully.
like a good many others, fjfißst J&3JBWI |
the very Friday that tiij gcJlck Jniniateni
was to return. " Wha? shall I dor’
said she ; “ the minister is to here*
to-day, and I haven’tlooked
he gave me! How can \ answer the
questions ?”
“ 1 can tell you," said Adam; “ give
me a quarter, ami let me go over to
Smith’s and get s<sme good rum, and
you can answer him witli a glass of
toddy."
Mary took the advice, gave Adam a
quarter and a fug, and oIF he started.
After getting his jug filled, and on his
way back, Adam concluded to taste the
rum. One taste followed another, until
he tumbled over a pile of rocks and
broke the jugand Install the rum. Adam
managed to stagger home.
Soon as he got into the house Mary
asked very anxiously for the rum.
Poor Adam managed to stammer out
that he stumbled over a pile of rocks,
and broke the jug, and spilled the rum.
''Mary was iua fix—Adam drunk—the
minister coming—the rum gone—and
the questions unlearned. But here
comes Uie minister! It won’t do for
the man of <»od to see Adam drunk, so
she for want of a better place to hide
him put him under the bed. By the
time he was fairly under, in came the
minister. After sitting a few moments,
he asked Mary if she could answer the
question, “ How did Adam fall?”
Mary turned her head first one way,
and then the other, and finally stam
mered out:
“ He fell over a pile of rocks.”
It was now the minister’s turn to look
blank, but be ventured another ques
tion. “Where did he hide himself
after the fall?”
.-'■'lSlar}' looked at the minister, then at
the bed, but finally she spoke out with :
“ Under the bed, sir! There, Adam,
you may come out; lie knows all about
it.”
The good minister retired—not even
waiting for his glass of toddy.
A Talc of Chivalry.
In the early part of the reign of Henry
the Second, of France, a famous combat
was fought between two gentlemen of
the court named Chataignerie and Jar
nac. Some words of the latter were
construed by the former to reflect upon
his step-mother, and he afterwards re
peated them at court. When Jarnac
heard of the calumny that was abroad
he came before Francis I, and declared
that whoever had given birth to such a
report " lied to the throat.” A chal
lenge immediately passed between
them, but F rancis forbade the combat.
No sooner did Henry 11. succeed to the
throne than Jarnac renewed his chal
lenge. The king assented. Both champ
ions having sworn to the justice of their
quarrel, the king gave the signal and
the combat began,
Tlie contestants were armed in proof,
and battled on foot with sword and
buckler. It was a goodly sight to see
how the sparks flew from their swords
and helmets, with what care they,
foyned, and how skillfully they availed
themselves of every unguarded open
ing. Now they traversed hither and
thither with short, quick steps, striking,
thrusting, warding, as they alternately
pressed forward and receded ; Was
Jarnac beaten back by the overbearing
force of his enemy. Covering himself
with his buckler, ho retired before the
increasing violence of his adver
sary and cautiously watched for
an opportunity which might be
afforded by the other’s fierce haste.—
At length by a lucky stroke, he
dealt C. a fearful blow upon the leg, and
completely disabled him. Hd fell to
the ground, and Jarnac standing over
him with his sword pointed at his throat
required him to confess the calumnies
he had uttered. This tile woundedman
refused to do, and therefore his life be
came justly forfeited to the conqueror,
who, however, generously placed it in
the hands of the king. The proud and
haughty Chataignerie, mortified by his
defeat, refused to be spaced, and on his
Wounds being Pressed, he tore off the
bandages, and died from the effusion ol
blood. Such was the combat fought be
tween two squires in 1547.
An eccentric clergyman, lately al
luding in his pulpit to the subject of
family government, remarked that it is
often said, “ There is no such thing
now-a-days as family government.”
“But it’s false,” said he, “all false!
There is just as muoh family govern
ment now as there ever was—just as
much as in the days of our fathers and
grand-fathers. The only difference
that’ then the old folks did the govern
“jig, now it is done by theyoungones!”
VOLUME 67.
Blander.
I have known a country society which
withered away all to nothing under
the'dry rot of gossip only. Friendships
once as granite dissolved to jelly and
then ran to water, only because of this;
love that promised a future as enduring
as heaven and as stable as truth, evap
orated into morning mist that turned to
a day’s long tears, only because of this;
a father and Bon were set foot to foot
with the fiery breath of anger that would
never cool again between them, only
because of this ; and a husband and his
young wife, each straining at the hated
lash which in the beginning had been
the golden bondage of a God-blessed
love, sat mournfully by the side of the
grave where all their Joy lay burled,
also because of this. I have seen faith
transformed to mean doubt, hope give
place to grim despair, and charity take
on Itself the features of black malevo
lence, all because of the spell words of
scandal, and the magic mutterlngs of
gossip.. Great crimes work greatwrongs,
and the deeper tragedies of human life
spring from Its larger passions; but
woful and most melancholy are the un
catalogued tragedies that issue from
gossip and detraction; most mournful
the shipwreck made of noble natures
and lovely life by the bitter winds and
dead salt waters of scandal. So easy to
say, yet so hard to disprove—throwing
on the innocent all the burden and the
strain of demonstrating their innocence
and punishing them as guilty if unable
to pluck out the stings they never see,
and to silence words they never hear—
gossip and slander are the deadliest and
cruelest weapons man has forged for
his brother’s hurt.
A Flower Story.
We are told that the Duke ofTuscany
was the first possessor of a'pretty shrub
of jasmine, wS»so jealglisly fear
ful lest othewshould enjoy what he
alone wished to posHeaa, in
juapUgns Were gi.ven to hle».gardeuer
notTP gsve a slip, not so much as a single
flower, ■Cbttny terson: To this command
the would have been faithful
halJnoHove wounded him by the spark
llngeyeß of a fair but portionless peasant
-wjrosfVwant of dowry and his own
-alone kept them from the
-hjrmenTal altar. On the birthday of his
"mistress hepresented her with a nosegay
..and to render it more acceptable, orna
jasmine. The poorgirl,
fishing to preserve the bloom of this
new flower, put it into the earth, and
the branch remained green all the year.
In the following spring it grew and was
covered with flowers. It flourished and
and multiplied so under the fair nymphs
cultivation that she was able to amass a
little fortune from the sale, of the pre
cious gift which love had made her,
when with a sprig of jasmine in her
breast, she gave her hand and wealth to
the happy gardener of her heart. And
the Tuscan girls to th is time preserve the
remembrance of this day by wearing a
nosegay of jasmine on their wedding
day ; and they have a proverb, which
says a young girl wearing this nosegay
is rich enough to make the fortune of a
poor husband.
The Beauty of Old People.
Men and women make their own I
beauty or their own ugliness. Sir
Edward Bulwer Lytton speaks in one
of his. novels of a man “ who was uglier
than he had any business to be ;” and,
if he could but read it, every human
being carries his life in his face, and is
good looking or the reverse as that life
has been good or evil. On our features
the fine chisel of thought and emotion
are eternally at work. Beauty is not
the monopoly of blooming young men
and of white and pink maidß. There is
a slow-growing beauty which only
comes to perfection in old age. Grace
belongs to no period of life, and goodness
improves the longer it exists. I have
seen sweeter smiles on a lip of seventy
than I ever saw on a lip of seventeen.
There is the beauty of youth, and there
is also the beauty of holiness—a beauty
much more seldom met; and more
frequently foundiu thearm-chair by the
fire, with grandchildren around its knee,
than in the ball-room or the promenade.
Husband and wife who have fought the
world side by side ; who have made
common stock of joy and sorrow, and
aged together, are not unfrequently
found curiously alike in personal ap
pearance and in pitch and tone of voice
—just as twin pebbles on the beach ex
posed to the same tidal influences, are
each other’s alter ego. He has gained a
feminine something which brings his
manhood into full relief. She has gain
ed a masculine something which acts as
a foil to her womanhood.
Oysters in CoquUles.
The Professor instructed the class in
the art of preparing oysters in a most
delicious manner, to be eaten out of the
Bhell. To a pint of oysters add half a
gill of water, boil up once and pour
them in.acalander. To the broth which
passes through the calander two table
spoonsful of flour and not quite so much
of butter; seasou to taste; let it remain
on thefirea moment, then add two eggs,
and stir constantly to prevent burning
until it boils, then "pour in the
oysters; give them one more boil
and set away to cool. The
shells in the meantimehavebeen cleans
ed until they are a 9 white as possible.
When the oysters are cool fill each shell
with an oyster and as much of the soup
as it will hold, and sprinkle with a spar
ing hand fine bread crumbs over the top.
A small piece of butter is then placed
on the top of each shell of the oysters,
and they are set in the oven to bake for
or fifteen minutes. Let them go di
rectly from the oven to the table.
Rupture Between Jefferson and John
Randolph.
Randolph being asked to play chess
on one occasion, refused, and gave the
following reason : “ I have not played
at oheßs for the last seventeen years ;
the very sight of the board and men
gives rise to painful reminiscences, for
the last game I played lost me a personal
friend forever. I was on the most inti
mate terms with Mr. Jefferson, as you
may have heard, it being now a matter
of history, and as I soon found out that,
politician and philosopher as he was, he
took more pride in his skill atchess than
.in anything else. Very few could beat
him, and at last he could not endure
defeat. Knowing this, and feeling I
was his match, I had always declined
playing, as I did not want to quarrel
with him, until one unfortunate evening
when he touched my Virginia pride in
so pointed a way that I could no longer
refuse with honor, and we sat down
the game. It was a warm contest.
'Greek met Greek. I at length cried
1 checkmateand he never forgave me
afterwards.”
Butter is falling in Maine. Grease
the track and keep it sliding.
SsiijreUa«eo»s.
Tbe Poisoned Flower.
An. Incident In tne Life of Ono of tlie
Early Hinge of France.
There are various traditions as to the
origin of the Golden Lily upon the
shield of France. Among these is the
following incident, said to have occur
red in the latter part of the eleventh
century, during the reign of Philip
Augustus :
The Prince was only fifteen when he
ascended the throne ; but the strong
hand with which he seized the relnß of
Government, awing theturbulent nobles
and protecting tne common people
against their aggressions,Boon convinced
them that he was not to be despised for
hit youth.
Though hy this course lie greatly en
deared himself to the massofhlssubjeots,
his life was more thau once threatened,
and eveu attempted; but these plots in
variably originated among the haughty
nobles, who became restive under the
restraints imposed upon them by the
Klng’B strong arm, and his just and
kindly heart.
In the summer of the eleventh year of
his reign, weary of the cares of state,
Philip retired with his court to his royal
residence at Chaumont, which was a
favorite resort to him.
Among his train was Geoffrey, Count
de Neville, the natural son of Louis
VII., the King’s half-brother. He was
a mild and inoffensive man, apparently
well contented with the title and estate
conferred hy the late King upon his
mother, and which he had inherited
upon her death, but, unfortunately he
married a haughty, ambitious woman,
who was but illy inclined to forego her
claims to royalty.
At the death of Louis, she openly as
serted that there had been a secret mar
riage between him and the late Countess
de Neville, and upon the head of her
son should rest the crown of France, he
being the eldest born, urged her hus
band to assert his claims. But this the
Count refused to do, being ill-fitted by
nature to act a part requiring more than
usual energy and ability, besides enter
taining too strong an affection for the
young King, who had treated him with
unusual kindness, to seek to deprive
him of his rightful inheritance.
If Philip heard of the pretensions
which the Countess set forth, he mani
fested no outward token of displeasure
or distrust. On the contrary, lie gave
his brother many evidences of regard,
appointing him to honorary offices near
his person, although lie.took care that
they were such that they conferred but
little power.
This was a new source of grievance to
the haughty Countess, who never relin
quished tlie idea of becoming a Queen,
and had fondly imagined that, on ac
count of Philip’s youth, his brother
would obtain such a strong ascendency
over his mind, as would make him
King in reality, if not in name.
- This disappointment was felt with in
creased she became the
mother of a son, in whom she centered
all her ambitious hopes, and all the
love she was capable of feeling for any
one.
Unlike our modern fine ladies, the
dames of high degree of that remote pe
riod, were early risers ; and the Coun
tess de Neville often took long rides on
horseback before the dew was off the
grass, unattended, except by her groom
who kept arespectful distance,just near
enough to be within call, should his la
dy require assistance.
One morning, she paused in frontofa
little cottage, situated in a perfect wil
derness of bloom. As an involuntary
ejaculation of surprise and admiration
escaped her lips, a pretty intelligent
looking girl raised her bright eyes from
the rosebush she was pruning.
“I have some handsomer within, ar
ranged in boquets,” she said smiling,
“if madams would like to examine
them.”
Throwing the reins of her horse to her
attendant, the Countess alighted much
to the surprise of the servitor, who had
never known his haughty mistress to be
guilty of so much condescension before.
As the Countess entered the little, low
room, the pretty flower girl displayed
her beautiful collection of boquets with
pardonable pride
“All or any of them are at your ser
vice, with the exception of this,” she
said, pointing to one composed of golden
lilies and white roses, andrelievedby a
fewleavesof green; “Itisfor the King.”
“So King Philip buys the flowers,
pretty maiden?”
“Yes, madame; I have orders to
bring them to the palace daily. The
golden lilly is his favorite flower, and
there are only those in bloom to-day.”
“ I will take this,” said the Countess,
selecting one of the boquets, and taking
from her purse a gold piece of more than
double the value, “but first bring me
a cool draught of water from the spring
yonder.”
With a light step the young girl took
a pitcher and passed out to the spring
that was but a short distance from the
door. As she glided by the window on
returning, she glanced in and saw,
much to her surprise, her visitor bend
ing over the stand of flowers, and ap
parently sprinkling something - from
her hand u|3on those she had laid aside
for the King. When she took it away,
her eye caught a gleam of a small gold
en flask, such as the ladiesof that period
used for their cosmetics and perfumery.
But when she ente.‘?d the room,- she
found her in the same position in which
she had left her.
She could not forbearan exclamation
of surprise as she observed how deadly
pale was her countenance.
“’Tis but the odor of the flowerß,”
said the Countess, as drawingher robes
around her she turned to the door.
“ Take my advice, my good girl; place
the stand nearer the window, and be
not much over them ; their perfume is
quite too strong for so small a room.”
There was something about these
words carelessly spoken though they
were, that deepened the undefined sus
picions in the young girl’s heart; and,
following her suggestion, she placed the
stand of flowers directly in front of the
open window. Then, by a close exami
nation of the boquet destiued for the
King, she detected the presence of a
fine white powder, impalpable to the
eye upon the white petals of the rose,
but clearly visibleupon the lilies, whose
peculiar shape, by exposing the leaves
to the full rays of the sun as well as
their vivid coloring, threw it into strong*
relief; and as she bent over them, the
faint but penetrating odor that arose
made her so giddy that she would have
fallen, had it not been for the tall shape
ly youth who had just entered, and
whose livery showed him to he in the
service of the King.
It was her lover, Francois, King
Philip’s body servant, and who, passing
by the house, called to have a chat with
his betrothed.
“ How,now,Marie?” he said, looking
into her face. “What has frightened
the roses from your cheek, and given
you such strange look ?”
The honest hearted fellow was sin
cerely attached to his royal master, and
he listened gravely to Marie’s account
of the strange conduct of her visitor,
and the suspicions to which it gave rise.
“It has a bad he said, thought
fully; “though I believe thereisnothing
in it. By good luck, I have orders to
attend his majesty in his private apart
ments an hour hence. I will put him
on his guard: then surely no harm can
come of it.”
Somewhat to the surprise of Francois,
the King manifested no disquietude at
this disclosure, though the grave look
and attentive manner with which he
listened, Bhowed that he considered it of
no light import. He bade him charge
Marie
“ To tell no one what she had discov
ered, but to come to the palace with her
flowers an hour earlier than washer
wont, by no means forgeting her golden
111168.”
King Philip sat in his audience hall,
surrounded his by retinue. A number of
the royal family Btood near him—among
them the Count Neville, his wife ana
the little son, a boy of three, whofie
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, MARCH: 21, 1866.
wihning and' Sprightly ways made' him
a favorite with the King.
‘ ‘Andplease your: Mwesty, .Marie, the
flower girl is awaiting without,” said
one of the guard. 1 ■
" Admit ner,” said the King.
Marie' had never seen King Philip In
his robes of state, and the royal pomp
that surrounded him impressed her with
a feeling of awe as she entered. Hut
this wasquleklydlssipated by the King's
gracious manner, as he bade her ap
proach.
“ I see you have not forgotten my
favorite flower,” he said, taking the
basket from her hand.
11 Just admire these queenly lilies, fair
Countess, and inhale the fragrance ft-om
the roses.”
1 But why do you start,and turn pale?”
he added, as with an Involuntary shud
der she drew back from the flowers he
would have placed In her hand.
“ I—l crave your Majesty’s' pardon,”
she stammered, " but the odor of the
roses affects me thus.”
The King’s eyes followed the Count
ess as she retreated to the window, at
the further end of the hall, under the
pretext of obtaining air. He thenfixed
them searohlngly <?n her husband's face,
whose mind seemed to be entirely oc
cupied by the laughing boy he held in
his arms.
Attracted by tbe bright color of the
lilies, the child Btretohed out its hand
for them. A sudden thought struck tbe
King as he observed this.
“See how eagerly Louis is regarding
them!” he said, turning to the Count.
“ Let him have them.”
With a fond smile the father took the
flowers and held them before the boy,
who, catching them with both his dimp
led hands, raised them with a gleeful
shout to his lips.
Instantly, a deadly palor overspread
his face, a faint gasp he fell
dead in his .father’s aims!
TheCountcss had kept afurtive watch
on the King's movements from her re
treat, and forgetting everything in her
terror sprang forward to arrest her hus
band’s arm.
“ Monster!” slie exclaimed, glaring
upon him like a tigress robbed of her
young, “you havedestroyed yourchild!”
“And' you,”-said Philip, pointing
significantly to the flowers, still clasped
in the child's rigid fingers, “ you would
have murdered your King!”
“Is ttiis tlie woman that called at
yourcottage this morning,” heinquired,
turning to Marie.
“ The same, your Majesty.”
As soon as the Count comprehended
the full meaning of these words, lie
cast a look of horror and detestation
upon his wife, then taking his dead
boy, he laid him on the pileof cushions
at the King's feet.
“ I can lay before you no stronger
proof, sire,” he faltered, “ that I was
ignorant of the existence of this base
plot against your life.”
As Philip looked upon the still, sweet
features of tlie child, and then upon his
father, his eyes softened.
“ You are right. God knows that I
would fain have spared your loyalty
such a severe teßt.”
“ I wish you all to bear witness,” lie
said, addressing those around him,
him, 11 that I fully exonerate Count de
Neville from all complicity with liis
wife in this attempt upon the life of
your King.”
“As to you,” he added, turning to tlie
guilty woman, “I give you twenty days
to leave the kingdom. Ifafterthat time
you are found in my domains, you shall
suffer the full penalty of your crime.”
King Philip did not forget the debt of
gratitude lie owed to Marie and his
faithful attendant. He was present at
the marriage, which occurred a few
days after, bestowing a dowry on the
bride, and other substantial marks of
favor; and ever afterwards, in commem
oration of his Providential deliverance,
he bore upon his shield the “Golden
Lily.” -
The Country Church.
We ,elip the following tit bit of senti
ment from the Lockport Daily Union.
It brings olden memories back :
“ We have been to the country church
that was old when we were young. It
is neither costly nor grand, but rude
and homely, with moss growing about
the eaves, where a pair of swallows
built their nests in the summer that is
dead. There are nolofty marble pillars
near the porch, nor tesselateddoors, nor
has it skillful architecture : but there it
stands, a plain old building, a hallowed
relic of other days. It has no gallery,
where the hired musicians let fall the
liquid tones of sound,
Nor deep-toned organ blown, nor eensei
swung, -
Nor dim light streaming through pictured
paDe. - ’
But still we like the old church. It
brings hack to us the daisied slopes of
childhood, the joyous anticipations of
the future, the golden gleams of glad
ness that hover around the steps of
youth. We hear echoing through mem
ory's corridor the holy words falling
from the pale-hrowed man whose guile
less teachings sank deep into our heart.
We have listened since then to (he ser
mons of the great,rhetorically rounded,
and brilliant metaphors, and poetic im
agery, and flights of fancy ; but their
high-toned beauty has failed to touch
our hearts as did the simple eloquence
of the minister in the old church.
There, too, is the graveyard where
sleep in dust the ashes of those who
were so dear to us in life, and whose
memories come to us with the rise of
sun, and the pale light of stars. There
rest the companions of our schoolboy
days, and our youthful sports. And
there, too, she lies who roamed hand in
hand with us about the valley, who
plucked with us the wild flowers beside
the brook, who saw with the apprecia
tive eye the violets blooming on the
robe of May, and wept with us.happy
tears at the glory and gorgeousness of
summer sunsets. For eleven years she
has listened to the harp notes of the
angels. Still we love to linger beside
her grave near the old church, and fancy
that the mild breathing of the evening
air is caused by the soft rustling of an
angel’s wings. Ho not blame us for lov
ing the old church, for memories are
ours, pure and holy as the dreams of a
dying saint, when we sit in the shadow
of its walls.”
The Expectants.
Who shall tell the hopes aDd fears
that are stitched into little frocks for the
form not yet seen ? All the world over,
the quiet, thoughtful brow of expectant
womanhood bends over them silently.
Sometimes a glad smile lingers on the
lips ; sometimes the busy hands lie idly
folded over the soft cambric folds, as
memory carries them back to their own
childhood; j ÜBt so their mother sat, with
just such thoughts busy at heart and
brain, before they were nestled in a
mother’s welcoming arms. Ah ! never
till now did they ever fully realize
what a mother’s love may be. Never
till now did they retrace the steps of
childhood, girlhood and maturity, so
carefully, to note all the Christ-like
patience and tenderness to which those
longyears hear witness. Then solemnly
comes the thought; “ Jußt as I looked
up to my mother, thiß little one will
look up tome. Me! Warm tears fall
fast on the little frock that lies on the
lap. Me ! Ah ! how do I know that I
shall teqeh it aright ?” and with the
happy love-tbrili is mingled a responsi
bility, so overwhelming that it can not
be borne alone. Nor, thank God, need
it be, nor is it. Ah! whatsoever fathers
may think, mothers must needslook up
ward. The girl-mother, from that
sweet, sacred moment, will rise, if ever,
disenthralled from her past frivolity,
and with the earnest seal of a new
baptism on her brow.— Fanny Fern.
A Peculiar People.
There is a peculiar people at Walling
ford, Connecticut, who style themselves
Communjsts. They Ignore rum, tobacco,
tea, coffee, pork, swearing, quarreling,
wrangling, gossiping, backbiting; lying,
cheating and defrauding—all of which,
is well, so far as it goes. Unlike the
•Mormons they have but one “ affinity”
at the same time, with■ whotn they live
so long as they both can agree—when
they are “ divorced,” not by adeereeof
the, .courts, but by mutual consent.—
Bolton Herald. ' ‘
DlicoTery of the, Supposed Murderer of
, "V the, Joyce Children..
The cine*, and How the Case was rol-
lowed np, t . v
Condensed from tbe Boston Advertiser, Mar. 9.
The mystery which has so long
shrouded the tragedy which occurred
in West Roxbuiy in June last, involv
ing the brutal murder of Isabella N.
and John 8. Joyce, only children of a
widow lady residing In Lynn, seems
about to be fully unraveled. For three
mouths a person supposed to'be guilty
of the heinous crime has been under
surveillance of the officers of the law,
and it now appears almost indubitably
certain that the criminal has been dis
covered in a convict who is now,.and
has for some time been, incarcerated In
the Massachusetts State Prison, under
conviction of an offense of much less
magnitude than that for which he lias
thus far eluded punishment. Before
proceeding to the exciting narrative of
the development brought out by the
vigilant officers who have been so long
at work to bring the miscreant to jus
tice, it may be well to give a brief his
tory of the trugedy wbloh presents fea
tures of such unparalleled atrocity.
BRIEF HISTORY OK THE -MUHDEK,
Tbe two youthful victims, Isabella, a
beautiful girl of but fourteen years of
age, although almost a woman grown,
and her brother John, some few years
younger than herself, and a great favor
ite with all who knew him, had been
spending a week with their aunt, who
resides at tbe South End. During the
early portion of Monday, the lath of
June, the two children left the house of
their aunt for a day’s frolic in May's
Woods, a delightful retreat in West
Roxtiury, taking with them only asmail
amount of change with which to pay
their horse-car fare, and a basket of
lunch, as it was their intention not to
return home until near nightfall. Before
taking the cars the children called at the
house of their grandmother, where they
were last seen. When the sun had set
on that Monday the two wanderers had
not returned. Much anxiety was felt
for their safety, and a vigorous but
fruitless search was made for them-
All night long, relatives, friends
and neighbors kept up tbe search. Mes
sengers were sent to scour tbe woods
and tlie highways in tbe vicinity, but
10 trace of the lost ones could be found
It was not until Sunday forenoon, ul
most a week from the time that the
children bad left on their holiday ex
cursion, that some gentlemen strolling
in a tract of woods known as "Buzzey’s
Woods,” discovered the body of the
young girl stabbed in several places.—
There was every indication of a most
terrific struggle between the girl and
the person who murdered her, her
hands and arms being cut in several
plaees, as if she had grasped the knife
or other sharp instrument by which her
life had been taken. Her mouth was
found filled with grass, probably to pre
vent her outcries. The body of the hoy
was not discovered until about an hour
after that of his sister had beeiQfouud.
In a thicket, lying upon his face, liis
body horribly gushed in several plaees,
the poor boy was discovered by a party
of lads who had joined in thesearch for
the brother, after it had beenannounced
thatthesister had been found.' Appear
ances indicated that the lad had fled in
dismay! had stumbled headlong into
the bushes, had been overtaken by his
heartless, brutal pursuer, and had been
cut and gashed to death. Nea’-.the
body of tlie girl were found some un
finished wreaths of forest leaves from
which it was Inferred that the children
had been engaged twining wreaths of
oak leaves, and constructing mounds of
moss, when the brute appeared belore
them, and the fiendish attack was made.
Thegirl’s hat, lying on the ground near
by, was tastefully trimmed with an
oak-leaved wreath, and the boy’s cap,
found subsequently, was also similarly
adorned. Of course the discqvery of
this double murder occasioned the most
intense excitement in the immediate
vicinitv, and in the city and State as
well. Every person considered him
self a self-appointed detective, and no
effort was spared to .find out the perpe
trator of the atrocious crime. Several
persons were arrested, but as nothing
could he proved against were
discharged. Full and as complete tes
timony as could he obtained was taken
before a coroner’s jury, but no clue
could be found to tbe murderer.
SUBSEQUENT HISTORY OF THE CASE.
On theafternoon of Saturday, the fifth
day of August last, Mr. Marshall Wetb
erbee, flf Ashburnham, adeputy sheriff
of Worcester county, was informed that
the house of a Mr. Brown, of the town
of Gardner, had been entered thatmorn
ing,,and robbed of a silver watch, and
several otherartieles of less value. Sher
iff Wetherbee at once started in pursuit
of the thief, tracked him successfully,
and arrested him near Bast Wilton,
New Hampshire, at about noon of Sun
day, the following day. The culprit
refused to give any other name than
“ Scratch Gravel,-/ say ing that his pa
rents were too poor to give him any bet
ter. Although well armed, he offered
no resistance to arrest, saying substan
tially to the sheriff—who was without
arms of any kind—“l don’t care a d —n
for being arrested for stealing a silver
watch; but I lrave clone something
which it would be a featherin yOurcap
to fasten on me. I had rather go to
prison for two or three months than to
be traveling about the country as I
have been.’’ Before placinghis prison
er in jail, Mr. Wetherbee took
him to his house and provided
him with ' supper. After supper,
“ Scratch Gravel,” as we must call nun
in the main part of this narrative, sang
with the little children of the sheriff’s
family, and entered into conversation
with thesherilf’s wife. Mrs. Wetherbee
endeavored to draw his attention to
spiritual matters, aud to make some
moral impression upon him. For this
purpose she offered him a Testament,
with the request that he would read it.
“ Scratch Gravel” refused to read it,
saying he was too wicked ; that he hail
done that since he had been in Massa
chusetts for which neither God norman
would forgive him. Mr. Wetherbee
took his prisoner totbejailatFitchburg,
and at the August term of the Superior
Court, before Judge Allen, he was con
victed on the charge of robbery, and
sentenced to be confined three years in
the State Prison, to which he was
taken on the 2otli day of August.
From the time of the first com
mitment of “ Scratch Gravel,” Sheriff
Wetherbee entertained suspicion that
he was guilty of the crime with which
he is charged. Hisconduot while in jail
at Fitchburg tended to confirm these
suspicions. He entered into aconspi
racy with the other prisoners to kill the
turnkey, but during which he used ex
pressions to his accomplices about “the
Roxbury job,” and made other state
ments which seemed to strengthen the
suspicion that he was the murderer.
While he was in prison the detectives
took means to get further confessions
from him, by putting a false convict in
the prison, who gained his confidence,
and to whom he made statements
going still further to strengthen suspi
cion against him. He was thfen put in
closer confinement. In, reply to ques
tions, the prisoner stated that he had'
never been in Massachusetts, and knew
no one here; that he was in New York
State all of last May, and in,Connec
ticut during the latter part
Where he was the first part of that
month he refused to tell ; and whtfa
pressed upon that point he said, “What
has that,to do with my being, in: 'this
prison 1 I know what your are driving
at I” The warden saying,to, him that
his question wHsaprdperone, '’Scratch”
replied, “ I know 1 Whatyouwant. You
think I murdered the Roxbury chil
dren.” The warden told him he wa*
suspected qf, that primp, and. that, it
wopld 'tie for his own interest'to show
where he was during the first pan of
June. He alßo told the prisoner that he
was friendly to-him, and would spend
$lOO la enabling him to collect the evi
dence of his whereabouts during the
period which he had not accounted for.
The, prisoner cast lils'eyea upon the floor
and; began to tremble violently, mani
f&tlng.the most extremeagitatk>n,.ahid
tolled,'ln a confused' manner or hla
Whereabouts at ' 811:, tlmps!' excewthei
fatal first part of June.' 1 . ‘
On. Wednesday afternoon,. Sheriff
Kimball of Fltohburg, had an interview
with the prisoner, who then admitted
mhcU which he had In the forenoon
denied to the warden, but was still si
lentas to where he was during tbe inter
val; which it conoerned him so deeply
to be accounted for. Yesterday morn
ing, having had a night’s reflection, the
prisoner sent (br the warden, and said
he'was ready 1 6 tell him where he was
during: the whole of June. He then
proceeded to.etate that he waa in Hew
York State all that month, but on being
askdd to give precise localities, he again
became confused, naming one town
whluh, the officers have not yet been
able toflndinanygazetteer,and speaking
of another locality as fifteen miles dis
tant from another town unknown to the
officers. The remainder of tbff mouth
he accounted for by stating that he was
in the woods and upon the roads.
The steps which nave been taken to
identify the prisoner as connected with
the crime have revealed facts which hear
as strongly against him as his own dec
larations.
The World of Fashion.
node* for Spring—Newest Thing* About
Dresses; Hasqnca, and Bonnets—The
Vernal Openings or the Modistes. Ac.
The fashion-makers are not less
prompt than the seasons. The first day
of spring brought the first opening of
styles for the new year; audit was of
course an event of great interest among
the ladies, who were invited to witness
the display. It was not, perhaps,thought
so important an occasion in certain cir
cles as the 7th Regiment ball, or the
Leiderkranz, or the Grant reception,
and will not be remembered so long ;
but nobody can over-estimate the ex
tent of the commotion that may be pro
duced by the new styles when they are
ouee established.
The new designs were exhibited by
Madame Demorest in Broadway; and
her rooms were crowded during the day.
The air was so mild, and the weather in
all respects so pleasant, that the ladles
come in unexpectedly large numbers,
and they were evidently pleased with
what they saw. The styles of articles of
apparel were numerous; and there was,
iu particular, a great variety of the uew
double and gored dresses; something to
suit the admirer of the plain and neat,
or of the elegant and elaborate.
LADIES' DRESSES.
A pretty style of dress was of alpaca.
The skirt was gored and trimmed with
quillings or lavender in the form of a
tunic. On the back breadth—from
seam to seam —were four deep scallops,
the lower ope teu inches'from tlie edge
of the skirt. From the back to the front
there was-a scollop on each breath, the
quilling running up the seams so that
each seam was covered, and thescollops
were so graduated as to bring the one
iu tront fifteen inches from the bottom.
The plain, pointed waist was trimmed
to match the skirt; and there was acoat
sleeve having a fall of lace, headed with
quilling on the shoulder, and opening
at the hand with a puff of lace and quil
ling.
A tasteful style of mourning dress
was made of buff and trimmed with
blue. On the front pieces were set, so
as to give the appearance of being
left open and turned back, and of com
ing together at the waist. This was
trimmed around with blue velvet aud
a row of blue buttons, and in the centre
of the front were three rows of buttons.
Around the bottom of the skirt were
three rows of blue velvet. The waist
was plain, with two points, aud was
buttoned ; the dress turned back at the
neck to match the skirt, and to be worn
with a chemisette. The sleeve had
caps, made in the same style, at tbe
shoulder aud I&ad.
A handsome black silk robe was cut
in very small gores, which had folds like
those of a fan, around the skirt. The
seams served as a base for the buttons,
which covered the seams. The buttons
were of black silk, with small gold se
quins hanging from the centre.
The “Crystal” tunic was of green
silk, over a dress of green poplin. The
tunic was composed of a skirt and a lit
tle bodice, cut in one piece and open at
the shoulder and at the sides. The grey
body was cut square, and the grey skirt
long, and bordered with green silk. The
tunic was trimmed u'ith ruching of its
own material.
The Madeline gored dress was a beau
tiful garment, of very pale buff goat’s
hair cloth, trimmed with blue velvet.
A uovel feature was its long coat-tails,
with imitation pockets. Smaller pock
ets were also in front. The skirt was
gored and had a long trail.
The Adelaide dress is also pretty. It
is partially gored, with an upper skirt
also gored, aud cutdeepat the back, and
open half its length at the sides, and in
front. The entire dress is composed of
two shades of green satin. The under
skirt of dark green is trimmed with a
baud of the lighter shade, ornamented
with silver buttons. The upper skirt,
of lighter green, is trimmed witli a band
of the dark satin and studded with silver
buttons. The waist, of light green satin,
has a short basque, and is trimmed and
and belted with the darker shade, with
buttons to match.
BASQUES. ,g
Ladies find basques so convenient
that they cannot very well do without
.them. A pretty spring style is made
of black silk, cut in point, front and
back, with a material of a contrasting
color inserted. Thjs is crossed by nar
row velvet, fastened to the points with
silk or silver buttons. The color may
be blue, green violet, or cerise, but
should match the trimming on the
dress. The sleeve has a cap, and an
insertion at the handtocorrespoud with
the basque. The front is ala rnililairc.
MISSES’ PRESSES.
A very pretty dress for misses was
made of lavender and trimmed wiLh
green. The skirt was gored witha box-
Elaited ruffle, headed with greeiu on the
ottom. The same style of ruffle is so
arranged upon as to representa basqui ue,
though thegreen runs up in front. This
gives tne dress the appearance of two
garments. It is usually voted by the
ladies that deception, when it is econo
my, is allowable. The neck is trimmed
with green ribbon, to represent a point
ed collar. The buttons are green.
The straight cbat-sleeve is going out
of favor: and those on exhibition were
generally somewhat full. Some were
sloped from the elbow with large puffs.
JACKETS.
The sleeveless jackets, In all colors
and beautifully embroidered, attracted
much attention. They are made to be
worn over a white waist. One, a lav
ender silk, with trimming of the same
material or color, and of green velvet,
embroidered with beds, was particular
ly admired. The combination of laven
der and green is unusual, but very ef
fective, each looking richer for the
blending. The sleeveless jackets were
embroidered frqm entirely new designs.
A lady, of a well-known family, who
was thrown on her own resources, not
only devised the patterns, but embroi
dered them.
BONNETS.
It js too, early ,1a the seasonto judge
very'definitely, of bonnets, or'to say
what Bhape or styre will be the favorite.
It.will not be difficult to make a prettier
style; than the Empire, which, though
; lthaa beengenerally worn, has found ad
mirers; Thqre is already a considerable
change, and more than the usual variety
of sHapeis. The' gipsy shape iahew, and,
for the’ present, popular. The bonnets
are still, so small that ladies are com-
pelled to dress their hair elaborately.
_ THEHAIB..
Not long since curls' were so much
worn thhtlt led to the invention of the
hair-curler, which, being .heated with
boiling water, does not dry or burn the
hair.. Crimps, ,or, frizzes, are fashiona
ble now. however, and ladles who have
had their bait ''done up” fn pins Or
papersaU nlght, and have found that
there was no soft- spot, even upon a
downy pillow, will be glad to, hear that
a hw-crimpar.has also been invented.
It is .heated with. JtkdHng water, and
will' crimp nearly one-half the head at
once f and ln a few minutes, and wlth
oUtlnjuring ft.—W. Y. Evening Post.
• .i-tif i
' mi)k Is the only article
'that has not risen of late.
NUMBER 11.
Horrible Revelations.
The Sound Table of last week has an
article calculated to create a great sen
sation in fashionable circles, as it lays
bare what is well calculated to shock
the modesty of most beholders. It is
on the subject of “ artificial or false
calves,” manufactured by corset-makers
and sold by corset dealers. We present
a specimen of the Sound Table's dis
closures :
By calves we mean Just what the an
atomists mean when they speak of the
lower extremities. We do ,not know
whose ingenuity devlsed*?<them, nor
when they were first Introduced, nor
indeed their method of construction.
But that they were a popular article of
apparel with young ladies, and especi
ally with those who mode a dashing
display on skates, we have abundant
reason to believe. In fact, several of
the prominent corset-makers devoted
all their energies to the fabrication of
these rare bits of fashionubleauutomy:
and. notwithstanding the very rapid
prdductlon, tho supply fell short
of the demand. Of course a good
deal of care was taken lest any
prying masculine eyes should pen
etrate the mystery, and give publle
ity,to the newly created market; for this
would have had a very injurious effect
upon the sale of the article, and the tan
talizing delusion would have been far
less pleasing. But the fact of its exist
ence was soon and easily transmitted liy
a sort of maidenly legerdemain, and all
who were desirous of muking sensations
by marvelous perfection of form, knew
very well where to supply their sweet
selves with patent calves.
This may be an announcement alto
gether unwelcome to those ambitious
young gentlemen who, at street corners,
from club windows, and In the bewil
dering maze of the skating “carnival,”
have felt their hearts throb with the
delicious titillations of delightat specta
cles which kindly art has quite willing
ly placed at their disposal. It can hard
ly fail to be a disappointment to such
to learn that for a very trilling consid
eration they might have procured the
abounding source of their happiness,
and that, too, in a very portable and
enduring shape,by a visit to almost any
ladies’ furnishing store. And if discom
fiture should chance to lead to rage, it
may be that an inquiring spirit would
discover yet other remarkable devices
for lending enchantment still more
alluring as concerns the “human form
divine.” But if they are wise they will
be satisfied with but one revelation, and
will hereafter devote themselves to
studies less deceptive and far more
profitable. If, however, it is a satisfac
tion to them to continue the investiga
tion, horrible as the idea may seem, we
should counsel an early visit to one of
the very numerous stores consecrated to
the anatomy of fash ion, which is nothing
morenorless than the sculptureof cords,
wires and cotton.
It would doubtless be a matter of in
terest to the innocent public to know
who the ladies may be that patronize'
these entrancing Utile toys which call
forth the ogling glances of so many ad
miringspectators. This isasecret which
only the closet dealers and the ladies’
bureau can reveal. We learn, however,
that they have been very popular with
the so-called ” upper circles,” and it is
their surprising success with this-class
that has led to unusual mania for
skating during the past season. The
pondß have been thronged with young
ladies as never before, and not until this
writing has the mystery been fully re
vealed. In fact, the rage of the season
has been these adjustable calves, nor has
the demand fallen off very materially
with the passing away of tne skating
season.- They are worn by the most
fashionable, if not the most respectable,
in the daily promenade and at the week
ly social gathering, and, in fact, almost
everywhere^Very nice young men
stand behirimfcounters, all day long,and
sell them to very nice young ladies in
sizes to suit. Bo it makes little differ
ence how cadaverous or ill-shaped one
may be, even nature is outdone by de
vicesof art. What with an in vestment or
two in false hair, a false bust, plumpers
in the cheeks, and the now thoroughly
introduced patent calves, the awkward
in shape and unattractive in general
appearance may become really “ charm
ing.” Who does not say that the world
moves ?
Had the bold mountaineer, who was
familiar only with that class of women
known as squaws, and who lately visit
ed San Francisco, where he saw for the
first time a fashionable belle , known of
these new contrivances, he would have
noticed, in giving his views, when he
said:
“Somewhars in every circumference
of silk and velvet that wriggles along
there is allers a woman, I suppose; bui
how much of the holler is tilled iu with
meat, and how much is gammon, the
spectator dun no. A feller marrys a
wife, and finds, when he eums to the
plint, that he'bus mullin' in his arms
but a regular anatomy. If meu is guy
deseevers, what is to be said of the fe
male who dresses for a hundred and
forty weight, but has’nt reely got as
much fat on her as would grease a grid
dle; all tlie apparent plumpness consist
ing of cotton and whalebone.”
Bemarkable Case of Trance—A lady Rises
from her Coffin.
A lady, residing within sixteen miles
of Raleigh, says the Progress , who has
been in delicate health Bince she lost her
husband in 1858, died last Friday (as
was supposed), and her friends ill the
neighborhood proceeded to take thesteps
usual on such occasions. The coffin
was ordered, the corpse shrouded and
laid out, aud all needful preparations
consummated for the funeral ceremonies
last Kabbath Strange as at may appear
it is said that, While the watchers in an
adjoining room were indulging in hilar
ity and hot coffee, a noise was heard in
the apartment where the remains of the
beloved departed reposed.
Supposing a cat or rat was playing
therein, a gentleman went to stop the
revelry. On opening the door he was
horrified to find the lady standing on
the floor the very incarnation of per
plexity. The. brave fellow hastily re
treated. His demonstrations excited
the rest of the party, and the whole
crew, shrieking and trembling, deserted
the house for a season. An elderly ne
gress, more courageous than the others,
went into the dwelling, ascertained the
state of affairs, and, with Christian he
roism, administered to the necessities
of the dead-alive one.
Search was then made for the retreat
ers, wtio, being found at a neighbor’s,
returned to the domicil they had so
shamefully abandoned
Hr. Beil, formerly of Greenville, South
Carolina, who has attended the lady
during the past six months, assures us
that these are unvarnished filets, and
present no hew truths to the medical
profession. It is simply a case of trance
or. suspended animation. The only re
markable circumstance, perhaps, is the
duration of the spell, though after her
presumed decease the absence of that
perfect ioyness which is peculiar to the
dead was remarked by the physician as
well as her friends.
The lady is now able to sit up, and
being in the last stages of consumption,!
Is as well as she ever will be. She re
members very little of the hours of her
trance, but experienced an almost pain
ful thirst in the first moment of return
ing conscience.
In a collection of war anecdotes, i
is related that a certain soldier was
singularly lucky insavinghislifein one
of the'actions in which his regiment
was engaged. The drums beating to
arms before he had finished his dinner,
he thrust a piece of bacon, too precious
a morsel in such a precarious time to be
wasted, into the breast pocket of his
coat. After the battle was over he dis
covered a bullet in his bacon, and ever
afterwards, when thankfully recounting
the tale of his miraculous escape, he
used to say that he was doubly fortunate,
for .that he “ not only saved his bacon,
hut his bacon had saved him.”
_ ....
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Andftors’ notices, i,so
Other “Notices,'’ten lines, or less,
three times,.— i.
Brick Pomeroy's Second letter* to BUI
Arp.'.
Did you hear anything, ditto up this
way? Something fell down! Theman
at the other end of the avenue knapped
a cap. BUI, just to see U the nipple was
clear! That cap meanß business I It Is
some ways to the other end of the ave*
nue where the vultures huve gathered
to feast upon the corpse so terribly man*
gled, but the man at the other end of
the avenue has a quick eye, a cool brain,
a steady nerve and his gun Is ready !
Just you sit down behind a stump like,
and keep cool. It 1b doggoned aggra
vating to keep cool In a light, but yon
must do it. Tho report of that cap
whistled from Maiue to Minnesota, ana
several millions of true sportsmen are
ready to load for tho man at the other
end of tho avenuo to Are,
And tell your folka there to keep still
—to plant tholr cotton, corn, rlco aud
sugar cane. Give them good advice,
Bill. Help them smooth down the hil
locks, and level the sod over the graves
where so many of your bruve hoyß and
our bravo boys are Bleeping together.
Build up the houses our boys pulled
down, uud soon as we get our war duds
oil' wu will help you Bill. You soo we
are unhitching iheteum which runaway
uud broke down your gule. Wo don't
like tho team any butler than you did.
Your gate post wus our gate post. The
team was a bud one—the man at the
other end of the avenue Is unhitching it.
Tell your folks to be brave in peace
us they were in war. The early winds
of spring—the February and March
winds are of more account than you
dream of. They are blowing the dead
leaves out of the forest. They are blow
ing the dead ducks far out to sea! They
are clearing away the debris—wheeling
the little sticks hither and yon. Boll
ing, Hying ami eddying, around the
leaves ami twigs are leaving their late
resting place, and it will not be long,
Bill, before all this rubbish will be re
moved aud the grass aud Ilowers will
agaiu beautify the earth os before. And
there shall be no more prowling—no
more poachers. Tho man at the other
eudof the avenue is not a olown, buffoon,
a vulgar jester, a low wit, a boorish
story teller. Ah ! no Bill! Ho is a
very good man aud you will like him.
We like him because he is just. The
people like him because he is generous
and statesmanlike.
We have been having some little
trouble up this way, Bill. Therevellere
who lately sat iu our banquet hall were
kitchen scullions, but they are going
home soon. Aud when they have all
gone, we shall have a very nice party
there. Time is loosening the ice in the
river. Some of us know how you folks
have been used and we are telliugothers.
Not long since when we told people
that our people when lighting your peo
ple were stealing themselves rich, they
said we were disloyal und put us in
prison. And they pulled down our
printing otlices. , They threw our type
into rivers. They mobbed us in our
places of business. They shot at and
wounded us on the street. 'They with
held business from us. They sought to
array the people of tho North against
those who believed in toting fair. They
did all these things In the name of God
and the great moral party V But spring
fashions ure now comingon,Bill, andin
a little while you und I will meet some
where and will be good friends, and
yonr boys and our boys after a while
will be loving the same girls and riding
down the same lune together.
it is hard to sit behind thestump, Bill,
and see the light going on. It may be
hard for your folks to work on their
plantations, to rebuild their -cities and
bleach out their mourning goods, while
there Is a tremor of war yet on the air.
Bill, but you can do it. And you will
do it. Do you he true aud brave—we
will answer for the rest. You have more
witnesses iu the north, BUI, than you
know of. There are skeletons in many
families hereaway, aud there are skele
tons some people would be dog. goned
glad to get rid of—glad if they had
never took them In.
There are pianos, silver spoons, silver
sugar howls, Hilver cream pitchers,silver
sugar tougs, gold watches, beautiful
paintings, valuable hooks, important
documents, rings, breast pins, lockets,
laces, silk goods, fast horses, marble top
bureaus, rose wood furniture, guitars,
photographs, keepsakes aud mementoes
of gold and silver and other witnesses
here from your district; witnesses in
the convention against the thieves who
overran your country in the name of
loyalty and stole from you while their
comrades were fighting. And these
witnessesarehaviugweightuow. Their
testimony is becoming more aud more
Important. Not more ill your behalf,
Bill, tiiau against the plunder loving
thieves and cowards who went into the
war to steal more than to light, to fill
their pockets more than to subuue the
rebellion so called.
We have got sick of this kind of fool-
ishness. Weseut for Mucginnis, and
he is now at the other eud of the Ave-
nue witli a gun in his hand, ready to
resist further encroachments on our do
main. It is hard, Bill, to forget the in
sults of the past, but we must do it. We
were both wrong. We both foughtwell.
We hurt you and you hurt us! We are
both Americans, and you kDow Bill,
that is good stock. Up here In the
North the people are sick of feasting
on blood, and we will have no more
of it, except in defence of law, order
and the Constitution. The mask is
being stripped from the highwaymen
who lately patrolled our mountainpaths
and all is coming out well. So Tie of
good cheer. Do you stand close by it.
Assert your rights, Bill, and we will
help you maintain them. The war is
past. The bloody curtain is rolled up.—
You take hold of one end, we will take
hold of the other aud carry it far away.
The scenes of the past shall never be re
enacted Bill, and if youns will be brave,
weuns will stand by you, aud we will
soon be happy together.
"Brick” Pomeroy.
The Jews,
An Israelite of Bavaria thus writes
of the restoration of the chosen people:
“ The regathering of the Jewß is now
beginning to take place. Not only many
single families immigrate to Palestine,
hut there have bedn formed a number
of societies in almost every land on this
continent to prepare an immigration
on a large scale, provided with all possi
ble means, money, implements, and
tools of every kind, to commence the
cultivation of the long-desolated land
at once, and with the utmost vigor.—
There are men of considerable wealth
among them, and not one without some
means—enough, at least, to defray the
expenses of the journey, and to purchase
a plot of ground. lam happy to state
that I am one of the leading members
of a society forming here’fn Bavaria,
which numbers already over nliie hun
dred heads of families, besides a num
ber of young people who would not
form an alliance with the other sex
until settled in the Holy Land, upon
the soil of their rightful heritage;” He
also adds: “The Gentiles hereabouts—
that is, the petty German Protestant
kingdoms and principalities, are even
more astir about Palestine than the
Jews.”
A “hoss dockter” out West, sends
to the editor of his nearest paper the
following luminous opinion in regard
to the pork disease: Mr. Eddltur, eye
see by the papurz thet they is a makln
e drefful furse A bout the wurmz in the
hogs which hez lately killed so many o~
the dutch in prooshy, jest zlf they wuz
a nqo thing.; Now Mr. edditur these
new tangled wurms, wieh they' hev
dubed trik ina existed Ijh
Maroon kounty for, yeres. Last summer
i cede a hog a lying on the kommoqa
nere the lafltte deepo wlch hed mor’na
thosen ov em, vizzlbul. to thp pa^ed’,l
without the ade uv a mlkerscoap
hog hed bin ded a Bout 3. weakfl, that
the larvy uve these parrycldes, will
breed in horses is a infernal lie got . up
for peril tickle and ! am refpojjal
bul for,yvs,ij :■'mV'; f‘ ;j