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For the Intelligencer.
The Fatal Tragedy.
In Washington the deed was doue—
The tragedy was played—
The Nation’s Chlet most honored one,
There cold In death was 1 »id.
When Southern Reb’s had sued for peace,
And Grant had victory won;
No sooner hostile war aid cease,
Tuan tragic play begun.
Sad was the scone that fatal day,
In the Dramatic throng;
Tnere was no time for merry play,
No time for mirth and song.
The country bled at every pore,
With life and tieaeure lost;
And tho’ the cruel war was o’er,
Too dearly it had cost.
Behold I the fair, the gay, the proud,
Ami Ruler of the Land;
And lo! concealed amidst the crowd,
Was the asslssin’s hand.
With deadly aim a charge Is fired,
Which pierced the victims head ;
And Abrahmn Lincoln there expired,
And lies among the dead.
Assassin bold, amidst the crowd,
(w hose weapon did not miss;)
Uxultingly exclaims aloud,
Sic Semper Ty-ran-nis.
Sadslmry township, April 2d, 18G6.
Shadow and Sunlight.
It ia a wearisome old world, I said to
myself the other morning, as I sat by
my chamber window; a deceitful world,
full of fair promises that are always
broken, of bright anticipations that are
never realized. I thought of the long
wail of anguish that is evermore rising
from the earth ; of the brokeu homes,
the bleeding hearts, the crushed hopes.
I remember that every time the clock
ticks, some soul, gasping, groaning,
agonizing, is torn from its frail body
and sent fprth naked and shuddering
into the mysterious future.
Here a bride with the marriage vow
scarce on her lips—the orange llowers
that wreath her hair unfaded—isstricken
down. Death claims her for hiß bride,
and they fold her pale hand over the
still bosom, aud the sunshine and the
glory of the earth seems buried in her
grave.
Little children around whom many
fond hopes clustered, all by the way.
Fathers and mothers, brothers and sis
ters, loose their warm clasp of our
hands, breathe a few faint words offare
well, and pass over the cold river, leav
ing us nothing but sad memories and
darkened homes. The green mounds
multiply in the graveyard, and the va
cant seats by the fireside.
Is it not a weary world—a louesome
world ?
Then I thought of the long catalogue
of crime that with each day’s record
grows longer and blacker ; how man
hates and persecutes his brother man,
until the blood of many a muidered
Abel calls to God from the ground; ol
the prison houses that dot the earth,
each with its share of crime, and the
wickedness that no prison bars confine;
of the gross ignorance-and superstition
that fill the world —the deeds of dark
ness- done for righteousness’ sake; of
the Pagan mother throwing the child
God has committed to her care into the
swift river, or burying it in the ground,
even while its sweet, pleading eyes are
turned to her for protection.
And I thought of the high as
pirations that find no fulfilment—the
broken day dreams —the restless search
after happiness—of the many who seek,
the few who find it.
Fame, pleasure, learning, all have
their votaries—thirstiug, panting for
something to fill the soul’s deep yearn
ing, aud finding but “cisterns, broken
cisterns, that can hold-no water.” A
weary, weary world. *-
But hark! what was it that brought
the glad tears to my eyes, aud made me
say involuntarily: Life is pleasant —life
is pleasant, and God is good !
It was hut a bird's song—a wild sweet
carol from the elm tree* but it thrilled
through every gloomy corner of my
heart, carrying sunshine with it and
spanning -my clouds with the bow
of promise. “Hallelujah!” cried my
exultant soul, “ for the Lord God om
nipotent reigueth.”
It is a glorious world to live in—a
beautiful world, for God made it; aud
from the frozen North to the burning
tropics, he has crowded it with scenes
of beauty.
Out on the wild prairie, where none
hut angels can see it, he has planted the
wild flower, and painted its tiny petals
as none but God could paint them.
Away in the green forest, where the
breath of the pines is sweet, the sun
shine falls cheerily through the thick
houghs, and (jhe old woods are vocal
with life—happy life. Everywhere, in
the air, in the water and on the earth
are myriads of joyous creatures who
know no care, no sin, no fear.
And among men, who will say that
even now more of sorrow mingles with
their lot than joy.
True, there are sad hearts, but so are
there many happy ones. Every night
as the sun bids good bye to one smiling
Tillage after another, thousands of little
children, with folded hands and quiet
hearts, kueel by a mother's side, and in
different languages pray to the one good
Father in Heaven ; then peacefully fall
asleep to wake with fresh glee in the
morning.
True, a dying groan is heard every
second, but around how many death
beds angels stand waiting ; and when
the poor, glazed eye closes on the loved
of earth, does it not open on Him who
tasted death for every man ?
" True, the world is full of sin and suf
fering, but its soil has been trodden by
the cross of Him who knew no sin, and
the Prince of Peace shall yet reign King
of nations.
True, we are striving always to drink
at the broken cisterns, but if we will we
may come to the fountain of the living
waters; and above the turmoil of life is
heard ever the voice of the world’s Re
deemer, saying, “ If any man thirsts,
let him come unto me and drink.”
11 Thanks, little bird, for your morn
ing carol. Go sing it to other sad hearts,
and teach them that God is good, and
life is his gift.
Bather Pointed.
Mr. Reese, the well-known street
preacher, was accosted by a would-be
wag the other day, with the following
question:
“ Do you believe what the Bible says
about the prodigal son and the fatted
calf?”
“ Certainly I do;”
11 Well, sir, can you tell me whether
the calf that was killed was a male or a
female!”
“ Yes, it was a female.”
11 How do you know that?”
11 W bechy.ause,” said Reese, looking
the chap in the face, ‘ ‘I see the male is still
alive.”
—A woman in Binghampton, N. Y.,
recently stole $1,400. and hid it in her
waterfall. It was several days before
the constable could find it out.
lauaisitcr IftiU’Uujcntti:
VOLUME 67.
A light in thOVlndow.
[From the Peoria (111. j DemocraU
High on a lone mountain where tem
pests fought their howling battles—
where winds lifted high the surging
billows which in time of storms came
breaking their force against- the rocky
walls to the ocean, stood a. fisher’s cot.
A simple cot, facing the mysterious
deep. It was ldvr of itself, but high
above all else, with but a single win
dow. Here lived a fisher and his loved.
A bold, daring, fearless man, who trust
ed in God, and in the morning went
forth to gather finny treasures from the
wondrous depths of the ocean which at
times lay in sunlit Bmiles before him ;
anon dashing at the base of his high
retreat, madly howling because his
home could not be reached. In the
morning he went forth. Fondly to his
heart pressed he the watcher left be
hind. With more than human tender
ness, he left a parting kiss on the lips
of her he loved, a sentinel to guard the
treasure his humble home contained.
“ And now darling, good bye. Duty
calls me forth on the bosom of that won
drous deep spread out before us. It is
but a frail bark in which I venture, yet
in skillful hands, guided by a cool brain,
propelled by a man of nerve, it is safer
than an iron clad man of war. My heart
is left with thee to guard. Igo forth to
toil forlier love. If the day be calm,
early will I return, aud thiue shall be the
lips to welcome —the eye to smile upon
me—thine the heart in which I’ll rest
when finished are the weary labors of the
day. Should storms arise—my voyage
be delayed—the tempest overtake and
death dispute my passage back to thee,
in this little window looking out upon
the fathomless deep, high above the
homes of others, place a light and let it
burn so long as the night and. tempest
shall last. I will watch. Piercing the
gloom will it reach me. High will I
look—surely will I see it —with brave
heart, a will of iron and a muscle of
steel, will I fix my eye upon this my
star, and rowing to reach my heart, will
battle on till the light be reached and
the sentinel I leave on thy lips to guard
thy earnest heart shall let me in. Good
bye my darling one!”
Forth went the bold fisherman. The
day was clear, the ocean waves sang
along the shores, sported on the white
sands, kissed the coyish shells, reached
up to caresß the drooping branches of
rock bound tree, played hide and seek
around the corners of jutting rocks, or
rolled away in the little caverns where
away from the deep blue billows left be
hind they could tell to each other stories
of the pas t and join hopes for the future.
Out upon the deep went the fisherman
Out aud away. The day rolled itself up
to join the army of the past. The loved
one on the hill was happy and sang the
hours away, for her heart was light and
and her faith perfect. The duties of the
home were done. The window was
kept clear. The lamp was made ready.
With the noon came a bugle call from
the sea, calling the truant waves back
to their lines. The shells were left
alone. The little caverns were desert
ed. The hardy boughs in rocky clefts
were left trembling in the wind. The
waves gathered in strength —the sky
was overcast by clouds darker than
funeral pall —the bugle blast became a
hurricane —the sun was lost to view
night came on and the brave fisherman
was far at sea, battling for life and love,
his back heavy with freight for the
loved one on the cliff.
“A light in the window /”
Steady! Now, fisherman, has your
star shone through the clouds. There
is a light in the window! God bless
the one who sits and trims the little
lamp—her eyes downcast —now
peering out to pierce the gloom. The
window is small but the lamp is bright
behind it, and from its intensity reaches
far out over the clenched billows. God
bless the one who has faith! The sec
onds roll into minutes —the minutes
are strung ou the voice of the blast and
form links reaching down into the
fathomless well. He will come! He
will see the light. He will make for
its brightness. The storm howls and it
beats against the fisher's cot. The night
has grown fearfully dark. The fury of
the ocean is aroused. Look yonder!
Far out from the cliff! Now rising high
on the crest—now lost in the billow!
Ah! Once again in sight! Steadily,
boldly, fearlessly onward to the light in
the window. How it nerves—how it
guides—how it gives strength when
needed. Pull away, bold man ! Every
dip of the oar brightens the light.—
Every wave ridden over is a victory.
Every trough of the sea you come out
from is a conquest. There is a spirit
guiding and protecting. Pull away.
The light is steady—not here and there
—but steady, and each moment growing
brighter as the waves are conquered.
Nearer, nearer! Yet nearer! * * *
The bark is moored—the freight se
cured—the narrow path has been
climbed—the door opens from without.
Still by the window ! Peering into
the darkness, trusting, for faith is of
Gon, still tending the light in the win
dow. The howling blast goes by. The
door opens. Oh, God in heaven! bless
the watcher by the window—a life is
saved. ********
Still the light burns. The window is
closed. It is not late. The fire burns
brightly on the hearth. The sentinel
on the lips has been relieved! Safe in
each other’s arms are the jvateher and
wrestler with death. The storm may
howl now—the bark is moored. The
night may be dark, but the cot on the
hill is warm and doubly lighted.
**********
There is a revel in the capitol-manse
—there is a wijder revel of joy in the
united heart of those on the hill. That
cot is more of a mansion than the world
dreams of. The watcher and the rower
are rewarded —their hearts are to
gether, their labor is done. * * * *
How clear the morn! The ocean lies
asleep far below, resting from the con
flict of yesterday—the battle is won—
the sunbeams play around the door and
rest on the window sill where so lately
Bat the lamp. See yonder! Arm in
arm wandering along the shore are the
heroes of the night, happy and reward
ed. Boldly the fisherman climbs—care
fully he leads the way—springing from
rock to rock with her he loves in his
arms, resting on his strength, he climbs
high up the mountain sides—they rest
on mossy ledges and with full hearts
look back to the light in the window !
***■* * * * *
Years dropped from the hand of God
into the abyss of time. The treacher
ous ocean never again lured the bold
man from hiß home, for the taking of
the day when'storms shook themselves
out around him were enough for a life
time. His boat was saved, for by it he
had sayed that for which he toiled.
The story of strength became known,—
By cottage fires and by'castle board he
was spoken of and called at-last to Help
guide the ship of-state overreefs ami
billows. But the cot on the mountain
was never forgotten. The fisher and
his loved went to other scenes—arm in
arm, heart to heart, true to each other,
full of most wondrous love and- with
the perfection of faith in their hearts.
She wore his image—he wore hers and
an anchor jewel she had given him once
upon a time before he made the last ven
ture on the deep, and more potent than
magic wand was their love to each.
* * * * * * ■*.*
The little cot was left alone and saved,
for its mission was done. The good
nymphß and fairies of the deep, in love
with her constancy and his “bravery,
made that cot their palace, and ever af
ter kept a light in the window for the
guidance of others. When nightcomes,
look abroad and see the lights in the
windows kept trimmed by some loved
one. But not all the windows are visi
ble ! Thereare those of the heart where
working or sleeping the light of love is
kept brightly burning for some one,
who, God bless her, is the fairy light of
life and love.
A Capture by General Morgan.
Not many months before the outbreak
of the late war, I noticed in the columns
of the Cynthiana News, among the dis
tinguished names that graced the na-
tional halls of legislation, the name of a
young gentleman from one of the dis
tant States of the West, with whom I
had been associated in earlier days, as
fellow-Btudents andlnmates of the same
institution. ‘ ,
In his college days he was a young
man of unusually prepossessing appear
ance, and consequently, a general favor
ite among the opposite sex. But no
powers of fascination, emanating from
their gentle and winning maneuvers,
could succeed in reaching the impervi
ous heart of their favorite. On many
occasions, when reminded of his un
gallant bearing toward his admirers, he
was wont to declare his purpose of
spending his days in bachelor seclusion,
dismembered from the cares and troubles
a wife aud family are sure to entail.
But he, like many others who have
made similar resolutions, proved to be
nothing more than human, and in the
gay circles, which the society in Wash
ington City always affords, he was des-
tined to meet one that would captivate
his heart, and at whose shrine he was a
willing and ardent devotee. For this
lady, beautiful, attractive and accom
plished, had unwittingly won his affec
tions; and he relinquished his resolu
tion to worm out a lonely and unprofi
table existence, determined to offer her
his hand and his heart. But, it is said,
“the course of true love never runs
smooth;” an illustration of which is
found in the history and misfortunes
of our enamored hero.
The excitement at Washington City
consequent upon the withdrawal of the
Southern States and the resignation of
their representatives in Congress, was
at its height, and in the presence of his
stern responsibilities and its overwhelm
ing dangers that threatened on every
side, a Congressman, intent upon the
preservation of his country’s peace,
tound this rather an unfavorable period
to engage hie thoughts and time in the
quiet aud peaceful services of gentle
Cupid. While maturing in his mind a
plan for the pacification of his country’s
troubles, and successful in his achieve
ments, realizing in anticipation the
plaudits of his countrymen, and the
commendation of her whose approbation
it was his glory to meet, this young lady,
whose father, too, had been a member
of Congress, suddenly disappeared from
Washington City, and repaired to her
home in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, with
in the lines of Bragg’s army.
When theyoung Congressman became
aware of her departure, without the
possibility of reaching her home, which
was separated from him by a wall of
bayonets, his anxiety and chagrin may
well be imagined. Despite the obstacles
that were between him and the object
of his love, he resolved to seek her, even
through the dangers of bloody war, and
offer herthe heart she had so completely
won. How could he succeed in accom
plishing his purpose ? As the only
hope of success, he determined to join
the army of the Cumberland, which was
then moving in the direction of Mur
fresboro, the lady’s home. He solicited
and obtained an appointment on the
staff of one of Roseerans’Generals. He
had been serviug in his new position
but a short time when the memorable
and sanguinary battle of Stone River
was fought, the result of which placed
the army of the United States in pos
session of the city of Murfresboro.
His anxiety to capture that place
from other than patriotic motives, could
only be expressed as he did it when the
news reached him of its capture —in the
most hearty outbursts and exclamations
of joy and hope.
Elated with the hope of seeing her
whom his soul adored, he hastened to
enter the fallen city, to learn the start-
ling fact that General Morgan, without
the aid of sword or sabre, had tarried
off the coveted prize, crushed his hopes,
and captured the hand and heart of her
for whose sake, he had mounted the
warrior’s steed and faced the dangers of
the battle-field.
The reader need hardly be informed
that the young lady who had banished
from his mind his old notions of bache-
lor bliss, and who had now so cruelly
disappointed his hopes, was Miss R y,
the daughter of the Hon. Mr. R y, a
Congressman from Tennessee, and now
the widow ofGen. John Morgan. Before
she became the wife of Gen. Morgan,
she was ardently attached to the cause
of Southern independence, and, I have
been informed, on one occasion, presen
ted a beautiful flag to a Tennessee regi
ment, on which was inscribed the mot
to “ Victory or Death,” and accompa
nied it with an address, during which
she pointed in eloquent allusion to the
motto; and, I have been told by one
who witnessed the regiment in a charge
that was subsequently made, that, cry
ing as with one voice, “ victory or
death!” the regiment, as one man,
sprang upon their feet, and, in serried
phalanx, and with matchless valor,
swept over the enemy’s breastworks to
‘victory and to glory.
—A young widow who edits a paper
in a neighboring State says: 11 We do
not look as well as usual to-day on ac
count of the non-arrival of the males.”
—lt is said that everything in nature
has its equivalent; but we know of
nothing that is equal to a woman’s curi
osity.
—Earn money, save money, and ypu
will have money.
—We should like to know how 1 the
world can wag without a tail.
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, APRIL 11, 1866.
The Poor Musician and His Mate.
One beantiful summer day’there was
a great festival in the large park at Vi
enna. This park is called by the people
the Prater. It is. full of lovely treee,
splendid walks, and little rustic pleasure
houses. At the time of which I am
speaking there were people there, some
young and some old, and many stran
gers, too. And all these who were
there enjoyed such a scene as they had
probably never beheld before. Be that
as it may, the Prater wasalmost covered
with the crowds of people. Among the
number were organ grinders, beggars,
and girls who-played on harps. There
stood an old musician. He had once
been a soldier, but hrs pension was not
enough to live on. Still he didn’t like
to beg ; therefore on this particular fes
tival day he took his violin and played
under the old treein the park. He had
a good faithful old dog along with him
which lay at his feet, and held an old
hat in his mouth so that passers by
might cast coins in it for the poor old
man.
On the day of the festival which I
have now mentioned, the dog sat before
him with the old ha’t. Many people
went by and heard the old musician
playing, but they didn’t throw much iu.
I wonder the people did not give him
more, for he was truly a pitiable object.
His face was covered with scars received
in his country’s battles, and he wore a
long gray coat, such as he had kept
ever since he had been in the army.—
He even had his old sword by his side,
and would not consent to walk in the
streets without carrying his trusty friend
with him. lie had ouly three fingers
on his right hand, so he had to hold the
bow of his violin with these. A bullet
had token off the two others, and al
most at the same time a cannon ball had
taken off his left leg. The last money
he had, had been spent in buying new
strings for his violin, aud he was
now playing with all his strength the
old marches he had learned so often
when a boy witli his father. He
looked sad enough as he saw the
multitudes pass by iu their strength and
youth aud beauty, but whenever they
laughed it was like a dagger to his soul,
for he knew on that very evening he
would go to bed supperless, hungry as
he was, and lie on a straw couch in a
little garret room. His old dog was
bettor off, for he often found a bone here
and there to satisfy the cravings of
hunger. It was late iu the afternoou,
his hopes were almost like the Bun —
they were both going down together.
He placed his old violin down by his
side, and leaned against an old tree.
The tears streamed down his scarred
cheeks. He thought that none of that
giddy crowd saw him, but he was much
mistaken. Not far off stood a gentle
man in fine clothes who had a kind
heart. He listened to the old musician,
and when he saw that no one gavehim
anything, his heart was touched with
sympathy. He finally went to the dog,
and looking into the hat saw only two
little copper coins in it. He then said
to the old musician.
“My good friend, why don’t you play
longer ?”
“Oh!” replied the old man, “my
dear sir I can not; my poor old arm is
so tired that I can’t hold the bow ; be
sides I have had no diuner, and have
little prospect of supper.”
The old man wiped bis teeble hands.
The,kind gentleman with whom he
talked resolved to aid him as best he
could. He gave him a piece of gold and
said :
“I'll pay you if you will loan me
your violin for one hour.”
“ Oh,” said the musician, “ this piece
of money is worth more than a dozen
fiddles like mine.”
“ Never mind,” said the gentleman;
“ I only want to hire it one hour.”
“ Very well you can do what you
will,” said the owner.
The gentleman took the fiddle and
bow iu his hands aud then said to the
old man :
“Now, my mate, you take the money,
and I will play. lam sure people will
give us something.”
Now, was not that a singular musical
association ? They had just become ac
quainted, and immediately entered into
an arrangement to work together for
the public. The strange gentleman be
gan to play. His mate looked at him
with great wonder; he was so stirred
that he could hardly believe it was his
old violin that such beautiful sounds
came from. Every note was like a pearl.
The first piece had not been finished
before the people, observing the strange
sight, and hearing such wonderful mu
sic, stopped a moment in curiosity
Every one saw that the fine looking
gentleman was playing for the poor
man, but none knew who he was.
By and by the people began to drop
money into the hat, and the old dog
seemed delighted to receive so many
pieces of gold for his master. The circle
of hearers became larger and larger.
Even the coachmen of the splendid
carriages begged the people inside to
stop and hear the music. Still the
money increased. Gold, silver and cop
per were thrown into the hat by old
and young. The old dog began to growl.
What in the world could be the matter ?
One gentleman as he dropped a large
piece of money into the hat, had struck
him on the nose, and he came very
near letting the hat and money fall.
But it soon became so heavy he could
not hold it any longer.
“ Empty your hat, old man,” said the
people, and we will fill it again for
you.’ r
He pulled out an old handkerchief
and wrapped the money in it, and put
it in his violin bag.
The stranger kept on playing, and the
people cried out, 11 Bravo ! bravo !” in
great joy. He played first one tune, and
then another—even children Beemed
carried away with rapture. At last, he
played that splendid song, “ God bless
the Emperor Francis !” All hats and
and caps flew off their heads, for the
people loved their Emperor. The song
finally came to an end. The hour was
ended, and the muscian handed back
the violin to the old man.
“ Thank you,” said he. “ May God
bless you !” and he disappeared in the
crowd.
“ Who is he ?. Who is he?” said the
people. “ Where does he come from?”
A certain person sitting in one of the
coaches said,
" I know him.- It is Alexander
Boucher, the distinguished violinist. —
It is just like him. He saw theold
man needed help, and he determined to
help him in the best way he could.”
The people then gave three cheers for
Boucher, and put more money in the
old man’s hat. When he went home
that evening he.was richer than he had
ever been before. When he went
: to his bed he folded, his hands and
prayed God might bless good Boucher,
so that when he should get to be an old
man he might have good friends.
Now, I believe that there were two
happy men that night in Vienna. Of
coarse, the poor old musician rejoiced
now that he was out of want; bnt of
more value to him than all his money
was the consolation that somebody had
proved a friend to him. For it does us
all good to know that we have friends,
even though they are of no farther ad
vantage to us. There was another who
was happy, and that was the good man
Boucher. How could he go to bed that
night without thanking God for putting
it into his heart to be kind to the friend
less, starving soldier ?
Next to the benefit which our good
deeds confer, is that which they confer
on ourselves.
Now, children, this is a big world.—
Look around you, and you will always
find that you can do something to make
this world of ours better, as well as
yourselves happier.
last Trial of Fidelity.
An officer of the French army, during
the reign of Napoleon, having incurred
the suspicion or resentment of the Em
peror, thought it expedient to abandon
his country, and take refuge in one of
the Austrian provinces, and there he
became advised of and initiated into a
society, the object of whose formation
was to hurl to the ground the Colossus,
whose arm smote and governed the
whole continent of Europe, with a scep
ter of iron. One day a letterwasbrought
to him containing the usual signs and
passwords of the society, and requiring
him to repair on the following night to
a secluded spot in a forest, where he
would meet some of his associates. He
went, but he found nobody. The or
ders were repeated four times; the
officer sought the appointed place with
no better success than the first. On the
fifth night of his appointment at the
rendezvous, after waiting some time, he
was ou the point of returning, when
loud cries suddenly arrested his atten
tion.
Drawing his sword, he hastened to
the spot whence they seemed to pro
ceed, and was fired on by three meu,
who, on seejug he was unwounded, in
stantly took toflight; but at his feet lay
a bleeding corpse, in which, by the
feeble light of the moon, he in vain
sought for returning animation. He
was yet beuding over the dead man,
when a detachment of chasseurs, sum
moned apparently by the noise of the
pistols that had been discharged at him
self, came up suddenly and arrested him
as the assassin. He was loaded with
chains, tried the next day, and con
demned to die for his supposed crime.
His execution was ordered to take place
at midnight. Surrounded by the minis
ters of justice, he was led, at a slow
pace, by the light of torches, and the
funeral tolling of bells, to a vast square,
in the center of which was a scaffold,
environed by horsemen. Beyond these
were a numerous group of spectators,
who muttered impatiently, and at inter
vals sent forth a cry of- abhorrence.
The victim mounted the scaffold, and
his sentence was read, and the first act
of the tragedy was on the point of ful
filment, when an officer let fall a word
of hope. An edict had just been pro
mulgated by the Government, offering
a pardon and life to any condemned
criminal who should disclose the mem
bers and secret tokens of a particular
association, the existence of which the
Frenchman, to whom these words were
addressed, had lately became aware of,
and of which he had become a member.
He was questioned, but he denied all
knowledge; they urged him to confess
with promises of additional reward—
his only reply was a demand for imme
diate death—and his initiation was com
pleted.
All that passed was a terrible trial of
fidelity. Those who surrounded him
were members of the society, and every
incident that has been described, from
Ihe summons to the last moment of ex
pected death, (was only a step in the
progress of the fearful experiment by
which they sought to determine the
trust-worthiness of the neophyte.
Chinese Widows
Widows are obliged, by custom, to
wear a white, black, or blue skirt, when
they wear any skirt at all. They are
not allowed to dress in a red and gaudy
skirt, as though they were married and
their husbands were living. Hence the
expression, " marrying the wearer of a
white skirl,” applied to a man who
marries a widow. Poor families some
times arrange to marry one of their sons
to a widow, when they feel themselves
unable to procure a girl of good charac
ter, on account of the necessary expense
incurred in such a case. The expense
attendant on marrying a widow is com
paratively small. It is considered a dis
grace to a family for one of its sons to
marry a widow, no matter how intelli
gent,interesting and handsome she may
be, as well as a disgraceful or shameful
step on the part of the widow to consent
to marry again. No rich aud fashion
able family ever marries a son to a
widow. A widow is not allowed to ride
in a red bridal chair en route from her
residence to her intended husband.—
She must employ a common black-cov
ered chair, borne by two men. Many
families, which have a widow connected
with them, are exceedingly unwilling
thatshe should marry again, on account
of the dishonor which such a procedure
would bring upon them, and especially
upon the memory of her deceased hus
band. Generally his relatives, if in good
circumstances, prefer to assist in her
support, or support her entirely, than
that she should marry the second time.
Connubial Affections.
In a town in Connecticut, not long
ago, lived Aunt Keziah, an industrious
and thriving widow. She has not only
kept good her estate, but has increased
it much in value, and she loved to refer
to it as “ the little home that poor dear
Daniel left her.”
One day the “ income man" came
along and carried off some of that little
hoarded treasure, and she wept as she
counted out the bills on which her part
ner’s fingers had once rested—so sacredly
does the heart cling to memories of the
departed.
A few hours afterwards she was at the
table kneading bread, and evidently
thinking of the lost one, when her niece
said :
“ Aunty, now you’re prosperous and
‘ well-to do,’ let’s get some pretty tomb
stones for good uncle Daniel, you know
that he has none at his grave.”
Aunt Keziah lifted up her doughy
hands aud emphasized this touching ex
pression :
“ Jane, if they want anything of
Daniel at the judgment, Uxey can find
him without a guidebbard. I tell you
' he’ll be there on time!”
And nothing more was said.
The Man Who Guillotined Himself.
[.From the Courier des Etals Unis.J
The validity of the will of a person
who has committed suicide is at this
moment under discussion in the courts
of the kingdom Of Naples.
Mr. Convreux selected for himself a
singular manner of dying—he guillo
tined himself. We borrow the following
details from the correspondence of the
Temps. The writer, Mr. Ezdan, ob
tained them from Mr. Jammi, consular
agent of France at Castellamare.
Mr. Convreux, a man of about fifty
four years of age, had chosen for him
self, some years back, a residence in a
hotel of Castellamare, upon the delight
ful hill called Qui-si-sana. (Here one
recovers health.) To the public, he ap
peared but a simple, inoffensive lunatic ;
his madness was ever veiled by a taste
for literature and art; he touched the
piano and romances. Within himself
he was a prey to two fixed ideas—to lead
a life of chastity, and to die without
suffering painj The influence of the
former had induced him to imitate the
famous sacrifice of Origen; the second
led him to guillotine himself. He read
everything that had any bearing upon
the sacrifice of the guillotine. Well
thumbed pages werefoundin his rooms;
in which it was discussed whether the
head of the person guillotined sees and
feels after execution. There is reason
to suppose that he arrived at the con
viction, that mode of death is easy. In
this belief he erected a handsome guil
lotine in the doorway which opened
from his parlor to his bed-room.
The important feature in his inven
tion was a sliding axe, which he loaded
with one hundred and thirty-two pounds
of lead. He tried the instrument on
several animals. It was afterward re
membered that he had often carried
into his rooms cats and chickens which
had been no more seen. When he had
satisfied himself as to the excellence of
his machine, he proceed to, ornament
it. He set it in a frame of two red cur
tains, gracefully drawn apart; between
the curtains and under the fall he plant
ed firmly a table with steps leading to
it, and covered all over with a black
cloth. He placed a white andsoft pillow
near the corner of the table, upon which
was to rest the severed head. Everything
being in rediness, toward half-past nine
o’clock in the evening, he played upon
the piano a hymn to the Virgin, of his
own composition. He dressed himself
in white flannel; he asceuded the steps
of his little scaffold, and extended him
self upon his back, looking upward, so
that he might see the instrument of
death fall upon his neck. It seems that,
to be able to see better, he even placed
a light upon a piece of furniture near
by. He touohed the cord which re
tained the suspended ax—the ax
and at a blowstruck off his head, which
separated Itself but little from the trunk
and rested in an easy position upon the
white pillow prepared to receive it. —
When the room was entered the next
morning, and all the horrible details of
the catastrophe were investigated, upon
the table was found a will by which
several thousands of frances were left to
the servants of the hotel.
It is this will which is now being con
tested before the civil court of Castella
mare. The relatives of Mr. Couvreaux
are attempting to upset the will as the
act of a lunatie. The employees of the
hotel assert its validity.
A Good Day’s Work,
Out in Michigan, a number of far
mers were sitting in front of a country
store at the close of a sultry day, and
telling stories about their work, and so
on, when one of them took the rag oft'
the whole of them by relating his ex
perience.
“I say, you have all told whopping
big yarns, now; but I’ll just tell you
what I done once in York State, on the
Genesee Flats, and on my father’s farm.
He owned a meadow just a mile long,
and one morning in June I began to
mow—sun about an hour high—and
mowed right along the whole length of
the field. The grass was so heavy that
I had to mow down to the lower end of
the field, and walked back, or as we
say, “carry my swath.” Well, I work,
ed on till sundown, and then quit. I
just thought, as the meadow was just
a mile long, I'd count the swaths, aud
I did so, aud there was one hnndred!
That, gentleman, is what York State
folks call a big day's work.”
“So you walked two hundred miles
that day, did you?” asked one farmer.
“And mowed half the time you were
walking?” said another.
“So it seems,” replied the greatjmow
er, “I tell you the facts, and you can
make as much of it as you can.
Theodore Parker, in one of his " ser
mons,” uttered the following, touching
women :
There are three classes of women —
First, domestic drudges, who are
wholly taken up in the material details
of their;|iouBe-keeping and child-keep
ing. Tffeir house-keeping is a trade
and no more ; and after they have done
that, there is no more which they can
do. .InNew England it is a small class,
getting less every year.
Next, there are domestic dolls, wholly
taken up with vain show that delights
the eye and ear. They are ornaments
of the estates; Similar toys, I suppose,
will one day be more cheaply manufac
tured at Paris, Nuremburg, at Frank
fort-on-the-Main, and other toy shops
in Europe, out of wax or papier-mache,
and sold in Boston at the haberdasher’s
by the dozen. These ask nothing be
yond their functions as dolls, and hate
all attempts to elevate women kind.
But there are domestic Women who
order a house and are not mere drudges;
who adorn it, and are not mere dolls,
but women. Some of these—a great
many of them —conjoin the useful of the
drudge and the beautiful of the doll into
womanhood, and have a great deal left
besides. They are wholly taken up with
their function as house-keeper, wife and
mother.
A Contrast.
An exchange says that of all men,
politicians should not rush too precipi
tately into print. As a warning, we
subjoin the following:
Brownlow in 1856.—1 assert without
fear of successfulcontradiction, that sla
very only could have worked that im
provment, and that the preservation of
the relation of master and slave is es- 1
sential to the continued 1 and future
welfare of all the negro raceof the South.
I assert that) 'American slavery' Is a
blessing; a blessing to the non-slave
holder of the South, a blessing to the
civilized white race in general, and a
blessing to the negro slaves in partic
ular.
Brownlow in 1865. —The history of
the past shows to every candid mind
that slavery has conferred no benefits
upon Tennessee. It has been a stumb
ling bloqk in the way of her advanc
ment. Her people have felt the effect
of its degrading Influences, and her
growth and prosperity had: been retard
ed by the exclusion from her borders of
both capital and educated labor.
NUMBER 14.
Inside of the White House.
Position of the Members of the Cabinet
—Whatley Think and Say A boat Be
eons traction—Mr. Johnson’s Personal
Habits—Ho Hope for the Republican
Party, dc., dc., dc.
Correspondence Cincinnati Commercial (Re
publican.)
Washington City, March 23.
Coming to Washington on business, I
was requested, by friends in the West,
to find out “how matters stand here/
and report. I said, “I will.” It was a
very large contract, and I am not able
to fill it. After several weeks of faith,
ful search and investigation, I am en
abled to Bay, without fear of successful
contradiction, that I don’t know “how
matters stand here,” neither does any
other living man in Washington or
elsewhere. Matters don’t stand here—
they move. They don’t move in any
given direction, but are striking out iu
all directions. They don’t stand in the
morning as they did in the evening, and
when the day closes again a. ne w base
has been reached. Skirmishing is the
order of the day; guerrillas and jay.
hawers abound. Several times I have
been nearly knocked down, run over,
trampled under foot, and gobbled up by
the excited Judge PufFey, of Sweliviile,
Spread county, Massachusetts, (who
came to Washington to use his great
influence and exercise his “ broad,
comprehensive intellect,” to settle this
little misunderstanding between Con
gress and the President,) rushing to the
room of the Hon. Mr. Save-the-coun
try with such speed that small boys
might have played marbles on his hor
izontal coat-tails, to inform him that
“ Andy Johnson was a d d, traitor.”
He had Ahat moment heard, from a
most reliable African, who was just
from the White House, that he (the
said African) had heard from the ser
vant girl, in the kitchen, that Mr. Con
federatus, a Colonel iu the rebel army
during the war, was to be appointed
Collector of the Internal Revenue at
Mobile; that the President, when wait
ed on by himself and a delegation of
the most promiuent, influential, and
loyal citizens of Sweliviile, had declined
to appoint William Lloyd Garrison to
the Collectorship at New York. “ I
tell you we’re betrayed, and the coun
try is ruined !” exclaims Judge Pufley.
“ I myself saw a man from Alabama in
the President’s ante-room!” and, ap
proaching the Hon. member, whispers
in his ear: “Two copperheads had an
interview with the President yesterday
—they were Sunset Cox and Wash.
McLean, of Ohio.” The Hon. Mr.
Save-the-couutry sinks back in his
chair, raising his hands to Heaven, ex
claiming “My God
Pass through any crowd at the street
corner or at Willard’s and you will hear
excited discussion and contention. The
excitement does not abate ; each day
but adds fuel to the flame. The most
outrageous charges are made openly
against,the President on the streets, and
by the clerks in the Departments.
“Andy Johnson is as great a traitor,”
exclaims one, “as Jell. Davis.” An
other exclaims, “ He's drunk half the
time, and don’t know what he’s doing.’;
A third, “ He’s Lad the delirium tre
mens—he sees snakes.”
Then, on the other hand, with flash
ing eye and burning cheeks, the Presi
dent 1b warmly, earnestly and intelli
gently defended. To these charges
they respond : “You're ad d fool;
there isn’t a purer, truer man on this
earth than Andrew Johnson.” “Did
he so gallantly battle these traitors for
five years, yea, all his life, to turn
traitor now?” “ Show me where, in a
single instance, he has gone back on.
any principle or sentiment he has ever
avowed! Place your finger upon a
single act of his that is untrue to the
country or the party that elected him.”
“Admit that his speech of February 22
was unwise and in bad taste, yet even
in that, where is the sentiment or
principle that the Union men of this
country do not, or at the time of his
election, did not, indorse?” And all
the crowd keep silence.
It is a Babel of qprnion here —a po-
litical chaos. No two prominent men
think alike. Congress is very weak
and powerless, because there is no unity
of purpose or action iu that body.
WHAT CHIEF JUSTICE CHASE THINKS.
The Chief Justice is frank and out
spoken in his opinions. He believes
that the President is honest and patri
otic, but that he started wrong in his
work of restoration or reconstruction ;
that having builddd upon an untenable
foundation, his superstructure, his pol
icy, must fail and fall. Mr. Chase feels
a warm personal friendship for the
President, and feels a deep sympathy
for him in the trials and labors that are
upon him. He would be glad to con
sult with the President and aid him in
the solution of these difficult questions ;
but the President does not seek his ad
vice, and probably distrusts him, and
he therefore cannot volunteer his opin
ions or aid.
Mr. Chase does not think that Con
gress and the President will ever har
monize.
ME. SEWARD.
Mr. Seward is equally free in the ex
pression of his opinion on the present
status of affairs. He is essentially con
servative, and with the President in his
policy. He believes that the Southern
people are acting in good faith in this
work of reconstructiou ; that they are
from their past history and life, acting
as we must expect they would act; that,
with their feelings and knowledge, we
could have anticipated nothing else.—
They cannot change in a day. Their
principles, feelings, and beliefs, are the
growth of years. He believes that all
will come out right; that the Union
party cannot be destroyed, as there will
always be in this country a majority of
its people in favor of the unity and in
tegrity of this republic, and who will
find means to make known their wishes
for the maintenance of the Constitution
and the principles upon which thisgov
vemment is based. The name of this
party is very immaterial. He says that
if you look at the class of men who have
been elected as members of Congress
and Senators from the reconstructed
States, you will find that they are not
secessionists, and never were ; that they
fought this heresy in the beginning,
and only went with their States when
they were forced to go, citing the ex
ample of Stephens aud many other
leading men who have been elected from
the different States of the South, whose
last votes in their Legislatures were cast
against secession, ana whose last speech
es before the war took place were in de
nunciation of separation, and that not
one of the old origiualsecessionists—the
extreme fire-eating Disunionists of the
South —had anywhere been elected to
office; but that those who are elected
are the prominent representative men
of the Southern country, and just such
men as we must expect to be elected to
represent the sentiments of their people;
that they are now working in good faith
to bring their States back to their old
relations with the general government,
and that they ought to be admitted to
Congress, and that the test oath ought
to be so far revised and remodeled as to
permit these men to take their seats in
Congress. 11 As for me,” says Mr.
Seward, “ I am constitutionally one of
the hopeful kind. Dean Swift,” said
he, “who was something of astatesman,
as well as a divine, said that in every
government there were two classes of
men—those who always believed in and
hoped for the very best, and those who
1 always despaired of any good and feared
the worst; and that the truth was about
half way between the two. I belong,
constitutionally, to the former class;
but, sir, my reason, judgment and ex
perience, and my trust in God, all lead
me to believe that this nation is but en
tering upon her great and glorious career.
I have a firm faith in an over-ruling
Providence that will bring us through
this contest, as it did through the strug
gle of arms just closed.”
MB. DENNISON.
Mr. Dennison, Postmaster General,
sees everything couler de rose; believes
that Congress and the President will
harmonize; that just at this time there
is a dark cloud in the polittcal horizon
which casts sombre shadows upon polit-
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Other "Notloea,*' ten or leee,
three times, JSO
ical affairs; but, with the eye of hope,
he penetrates beyond this cloud and
sees the sun of triumph lighting up the
view. He does not believe that the
President intends or desires to separate
from the Union party, but that the
present -contest is something like the
Wade and Davis attack upon Mr. Din
coin, with the exception that Mr. John
son does not show the wisdom and
equanimity manifested by Mr. Lincoln,
in his contest. He believes Mr. John
son is equally pure, true, and patriotic,
and desires very earnestly that unity
and harmony may speedily come. He
desires to remain in his present place,
and will work to maintain harmony
and to keep that place; but it may be
put down as a fixed fact, that wherever
the President goes, Mr. Dennison will
always be found within the lines of the
Union party. Mr. Dennison 1b gentle
manly and yielding, to a fault; but un
derlying all this softness and placidity
there is a granitic strata that is genuine
and true, and that can always be trusted.
MR. SPEED, ATTORNEY GENERAL,
is unqualifiedly with the Radicals of
Congress on the question of negro suf
frage, and opposed to the policy of the
President. Mr. Speed is discreet in the
expression of his opinions ; doesnotuu
necessarily harass or oppose the Presi
dent, but stands firmly oy his convic
tions of what he believes to be the true
principles in this contest.
MR. STANTON.
Mr. Btanton is reticent, looks a good
way ahead, and under no oircumstances
will exercise his power to put men un
true to the Union party or the country
into place and power. He is staunch
and true, but politic; is inclined to stand
by and go with the President, but does
not agree with him in all his measures
and policy. In a conversation with a
gentleman the other day he said : “ I
cannot promise you this action for the
future; my tenure ofofilce isuncertain:
a change may take place any day. I
could not remain here, and would not,
if required to make any appointments,
or to aid in any act contrary to my
principles and convictions.”
It has been urged upon Mr. Stanton
by members of Congress, to hold on to
the office till he is put out: if a struggle
comes between the President and the
Cabinet, not to yield an inch, for that
the Senate would not confirm auy suc
cessor whom Mr. Johnson might ap
point.
THE FACTS,
First. The President docs not gel
drunk ; is temperate and abstemious In
all his habits; does not touch liquor of
any kind, and lias not since the day of
the inauguration.
Second. He is not going over to the
copperheads, nor 1b he going to appoint
any man to office who was not witn the
Union party during the war.
Third. He isgoing to have every man
who holds office under him support
him and his measures, his “policy/* as
set forth in his i!2d of February speech,
his veto, and ilia message. Those who
do not support him, and do take sides
with the radicals in Congress, had bet
ter look out for the executive axe, for it
will surely fall.
Fourth. Andrew Johnson Is as hon
est a man as lives on the earth. He is
just as combative and stubborn as he is
honest.
Fifth. Dear to him as his first-born,
yea, precious as the breath of his nos
trils, in his u j)olicy. ll Before his deter
mination to sustain and carry through
that policy, all other consideratloris
must go down. To that “policy” he
would sacrifice the Union party, were
it necessary. He would sacrifice any
aud all personal friendships —yea, his
very life would weigh notning in the
scales against his determination to car
ry it through. Why? Becausehehas,
after long days and weeks and months
of earnest thought, study and prayer,
concluded that the salvation of his
country and welfare of the people de
pend upon it.
However much we may differ with
him in judgment, we can but admire
his Spartan heroism and dauntless
courage.
“What is the President’s ‘policy/
upon which he is risking so much?”
many inquire. “ What Ib this chimera,
tins phantom, this ignUfatuus ‘policy*
thatlsle&ding the President in this wild
dance?”
That I carfnot fully answer. His
message, veto, and speech will bestgive
it. The principal ingredients of that
policy are:
First. That the constitutional rights
of the States and the people thereof
shall not be infringed or trampledupon
by the general government.
Second. That the States have the
right to determine for themselves the
qualification of voters, and that the
general government can no more inter
fere with that right In .South Carolina
than in Massachusetts.
Third. That whenever a member of
Congress from any one of the thirty-six
States presents himself for a seat in
Congress, and can take the oath pre
scribed for each and every member of
that body, Congress has do right to ex
clude him ; that Congress can prescribe
rules that will apply to all its members,
but cannot invidiously legislate against
members from sections of the country,
or that ouly apply to a part of that body
or apart of the States.
Fourth. He does not believe in the
doctrine of “ State suicide.”
Fifth. He is opposed to negro suffrage
at this time; thinks they are unfitted
for, and have not the requisite capacity
to intelligently exercise that sacred yet
dangerous privilege.
MY CONCLUSION.
Congress and the President will never
harmonize. They will remain asunder
and divided even unto the end.
It is immaterial how this separation
is caused—the result is equally danger
ous in its consequences to the party In
power. It may be charged, on one Bide,
that the President has switched off the
party track, and on the other hand, that
Congress has followed the lead of these
crazy Hadicals until they have run them
into the camp of the enemy—the dis
unionists. The fact remains—they are
separated. My own conclusion is, that
Congress, under the lead of those old
parliamentarian Kadicals, has gone a
little too far and too fast, and got away
from both the President and the people;
that the President has stood still since
the day of his election, and has failed to
keep pace with the progress of the peo
ple.
The President will use all the power
he has, in the way of patronage and in
fluence, to bring men to his support,
and will cut off those who are against
him. For this he cannot be blamed.
A new deal will probably be made In
the Cabinet, Secretaries Stanton and
Harlan, and Attorney General Speed
are notoriously opposed to the President.
They are inharmonious elements in the
Cabinet at this time. Secretary Harlan
it is alleged, is in intimate and dally
communication with the Radicals in
Congress, and is in substance acting the
part of spy and informer of themeasures
and movements of the President. In
the new deal, Mr. Seward, Mr. McCul
loch, and Mr. Dennison would probably
be retained. They are in harmony with
the President: stand by and support
him against the Radicals. Stanton,
Harlan, Speed, and Mother Welles will
probably retire. The latter to her tea
and warm corner. I am satisfied that
no man can act as mediator in this con
test—the man who attempts it will be
ground to powder between this advanc
ing glacier Congress, and this immova-
“ the greatest of the An
dies.”
A Warning.
The President is environed with pitfalls
dug by men who, in the disappointment of
their mad ambition, would at the same
time dig the grave of our political system.
We believe that the period la critical, be
yond precedent. If the Radicals carry Con
necticut next week, we may look for de
velopment which will arouse the oountry.
The aboveweextractfromtheJournal
of Commerce of date during last week.
We adopt the language as exactly fit
We warn the people that at a very
early day the country will be startled
with a sudden advance step in the. pro
gressof the revolutionary soneme, unless
the traitors be in the meantime dis
couraged by popular demonstrations of
constitutional, loyalty.— National InteU
ligencer.