Sit* iflutastw fattUifleDm, PUBIiISHHD EVERY WEDNESDAY BY (JOOPEB, SAKDEBSON A CO. H. G Smith, J. M. Cooker, Wm. A. Morton, Adfbed Sanderson TERMS—Two Dollars per annum, payable ail oases. In advance. uFFIOE-Southwkst corner OF' Centre Square. 43-All letters on business Should be ad dressed to Cooper, Sanderson & Co. foetry. She Hath Fallen. On her chala of life is rust, On her spirit’s wineis dust; She hath let the spoiler in— She hath mated with her sin— She hath opened wid§ the door; Crime has passed the threshold o er. WhereJorehus she gone astray ? Siood Temptation fn her way? With 1' s eyes so glittering bright— Clothed in angel robes of light. Oh ! her story soon Is told, / Once a lamb within the fold, Stranger voices lured her theuce, In her trusting inn cence. Woe! she had not strength to keep With the Shepherd of the sheep; Fur the fleece so spotless white Then became tbe hne of night, And sue stood, in her despair, Bleating for the Shepherd’s care. Woe! that none might lead her back From the bloodhound on her track. Hunger prowled about her path With a wild hyena wrath. Scorn came leap.ug from its lair With deilaut growl and stare; And she grappled, ail in vain, With the faugs of want and pain, Hope and mercy shut the gate On this heart so desolate. So she turned again to sin, What had she to lose or win? Renting on her life a stain Deeper than the brand of Cain. Heard she not a pitying toue, * Weeping In her shame aloue? * Was there not a human heart In her anguish bore a part? None to hold a beacon light Up before her darken’d sight ? No; the was not tUere, For ft canting priesthood’s prayer, She hath fallen! Lot her die"— Haid the Levlto, passing by ; So she turned again to sin, What had she to lose or win ? Sisters! there is work to do— Field of labor here for you, Ye who pour the wine and oil,. Up, and resL not from your toil. Till the bruised and wounded heart, Aching from the Tempter’s dm t, Hore and weary with its pain, Hhall be bound and healed ugaln— Till, no more defiled by sin, Like the pardoned Magdalen, Kneeling In repentance sweet, She may wash the Savior’s test Vv ith her tears—that while they roll, lllot the sin stain from her suul— Lu ye ask for your reward *.’ t “ They are blest who serve the Lord. Utwary. A Summer Day In Haying. liV li. !•'. TAYLOR. Five o’clock and a summer morning! A silver misthangsallalongthestreams, a few downy clouds are alloat and the landscape is heavy with dew. The cows turned out from the milking, are tink ling their way along the winding path to the woods ; the robins are calling to each other in the orchard, and an enter- prising lien in the barn is giving “ the world assurance of” —an egg. Some- Row, earth, on such a morning, looks as if it were just finished, the coloring not dry, the mouldings not “ set;” without a grave or grief in it. Noting “ the way of the wiud,” aud remembering that the sun “ came out” as it set last night, it is pronounced a good day for haying. >So forth to the meadow, the farmer, the neighbors, and the boys, “armed and equipped,” a young bare-footed commissary bringing up the rear, with earthen jugaud bright tin pail. Much talk of “wide swaths,” aud “ mowing around,” with laugh and jest, beguiles the journey through the pasture to the field of battle. Coats and jackets fly like leaves in winter weather and moves the phalanx with step and sweep through the tall, damn grass. One bends to the scythe as if U were an oar, aud pants on in the rear of his fellows. Another walks erect and bold ly up to the grass, the glittering blade the while curving freely and easily about his feet. The fellow in Kentucky jean expended his strength in boasting on the way\and labors like a ship in a heavy sea, while the quiet chap in tow, that never said a word, is the pioneer of the field. On they move, toward the tremulous woods in the distance. One pauses, brings the swath to an “order arms,” and you can hear the tinkling of the rifle, as it sharpens the edge of Time’s symbols. Another wipes the beaded drops from his brow, and then swath' notes blend again in full orchestra. On ward still; they are hidden in the waving grass—all but a broken row of broad brimmed hats, that, rising and falling, seem to float slowly over the top of the meadow. Ten o’clock and a cloudless sky. The the maples silent and still; not a flutter in woodland or fallow. Far up in the blue, a solitary hawk is slow ly swinging in airy circles over the farm. Far down in the breathless lake sweep his shadowy fellows. The long, yellow ribbon of road leading to town, is aquiver with heat. “Brindle” and “Bed” stand dozing in the marsh; the sheep are panting in the angles of the fences ; the horses are grouped beneath the old tree; “Pedro,” the faithful guardian of the night, has crawled under the wagon for its shadow, now and then snapping in his sleep at the flies that hum around his pendant ear ; the cat has crept up into the leafy butternut and stretched herself at length, upon a limb, to sleep; the canary is dreaming on his drowsy perch ; and even the butterflies, weary of flickering in the sunshine, rest, like full blown exotics, on the reeds. The children of a neighbor ing school, all flushed and glowing, come bounding down the slope in couples, the old red pail swung up be tween ; and the clatter of the windlass betoKeus“theold oaken bucket” already dripping up into the sun, with its brimming wealth of water. Twelve o’clock and a breathless noon. The corn fairly curls in the steady blaze. The sun has driven She shadows around under the west and north walls; it has reached the noon mark on the threshold and pours the broad beams into the hall; the morning glories have struck their colßrs, and a little vine trailed up the wall by a string of a shroud, shows de cided symptous of letting go. The horn winds for dinner, but its welcome note surprises the mowers in the midst of the meadow, and they’ll cut their way out like good soldiers, despite their signal. Back we are again to the field, aye, and back too, upon the threshold of childhood. A chance breath wafts to us the sweet, old fashioned fragrance of the new mown hay, and we are younger in memory than we'll ever be again. The angry hum of the bees just thrown out of house and home, and the whistling quail, as she whirled timidly away be fore the steady sweep of the whetted, scythes; and the shout of the children as the next stroke laid upon their sum mer hopes of the day ; and the bell tone of the bob-o-links swinging upon the willows in the “Hollow.” Can’t you hear —don’t you remember them all? And have you forgetten the green knoll under the wide-spread beech—or was"it maple ? And how hungry you were, at the morning lunch, just from sympathy, though you hadn’t “ earned your salt” for a week ? And the brown jug filled with pure water, and in thoße olden time, you know —the little black bottle with something stronger just "to qualify” It, as they said, that nestled lovingly together, amid the cool and dewy grass In the fence corner 1 We are sure you remember how magulh- lancastcr Intelligence!: VOLUME 67. oent loads went tumbling Into the barn, you upon the top, and how they heaped the new hay into the empty “ mows” till it was half as high as the latter—up to the big beam—up to the swallow hole; and how you crept up with a young group, and hid away in a dark corner, festooned with cobwebs, and played you were a “painter” or “ catamountain,” and growled terrifically, to the un speakable dread of your little brother, or cousin, orsomebody. Or, how weary of the frolic, you lay upon the hay, and counted the dust sunbeams, as they streamed through the crevices of the loose siding, and wondered how they got out again, and how many it took to make a day, and passed your fingers through them to and fro, and marvelled that you felt nothing. Many a time, you know, you crept through that same mow with Mary Grey—don’t you remember Mary? She lived in the house just over the hill. Have you forgotten how you went straw berrying together? You picked in her basket —don’t deny it —you always felt happier than when you filled your own, though you never knew why. You had a queer feeling sometimes about the heart, though you never knew what. Youffiave founditoutallsince, nodoubt. And Mary—what has become of her ? Why, there is a reaper whose name is Death,” that goes forth to the harvest in sweetest Spring and latest Autumn and deepest Winter as well, and Mary and Ellen and Jane were long ago bound up in the same sure bundle of life. Seven o'clock, and a clear night. The shadows and the mist are rising in the valleys—the frogs have set up their chorus in the swamp—the fire-flies are showing a light off the marsh —the whip-poor-wills begin their melancholy song—a star blazes beautifully over the top of the woods, and the fair beings that people our childhood come about us in the fair beings, “ Who set as sets the morning star, that goes Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides Obscured amid i he tempest of the sky, But melts away into the light of heaven.” Soliloquy of a Mechanic. BY “BRICK” POXEROY How ray back aches ! \ And I want a little more sleep, but unless I am there when the seven o’clock bell speaks I am not wanted. But I'll rest—Dap—snooze here as I rest, and waken for a few moments, j {That noise in the kitchen ? That is my wife preparing the break fast. Good woman—she did not go to bed till an hour or more after I did, and she is always up an hour before me. Her work is never done —mine is never done. I hear her Step in another room. I hear the dishes as they are placed on the table. This pillow is not as large as some pillows, so I’ll double it up and rest my head on it. And this bed is not such as rich people have, but it’s good enough for a poor man! The feather bed is thin—the clothes are none too nice, but then we are better off than thousands I know. Why not have better ones ? Simply because I cannot afford it. Ho you see these hands ? Ho you see the calloused palms —the little labor cracks—the half stiffened blunt fingers? Well, sir, they are marks of industry. Igo to the shop early. I work late. I take my dinner in that little tin-pail. I work till my back aches. I save my money. My wife helps me at home — she is prudent, saving, industrious and hopeful. My children are not dressed as well as my neighbor's children are, but they wear the best I can get for them. I have no money for luxuries, my family must live, even if my bed be hard, my pillow small—the feathers few and the bed clothes worn —the floors uncarpeted. Hard World Of course I have work, and I have pay for it. But money does not go so far now as it used to. Two dollars to-day are not us good as one dollar six years ago. My wages go for flour, meat, pota toes, butter when we can afford it, eggs, tea, coflee, sugar, cloth, medicines and taxes 'Why purchase tea , coffee , butter , etc ? Why live? I am tired at night and want something I can relish and a cup of tea gives me strength and a new life. And bread is dry without butter. And in the morning, with the labors of the day staging me in the face as they lead me along to the grave, I have but little ap petite, a cup of coffee with sugar in it and perhaps an egg on my plate tempts the worn out appetite and I thus gain strength for my toil. Be more saving ! I am saving. My wife is saving. I have hardly a decent suit of clothes. My wife does not have more than two dresses a year. She mends and ! turns, and patches and saves, and pieces ; and she uses our worn out garments to make clothes for the children. And we have no luxuries in the pantry or cellar— simply plain food. A dollar does not go far in market now. I do not com plain, but I do get discouraged at times, and wonder why a poor man was born —what use there is in living ? Every thing costs so much. Cotton costs five times as much now as six ago. Woolen goods ditto. Tea, coffee, flour, meat, sugar, rice, butter, eggs, tobacco, spices, medicines, &c., &c., cost from three to five times as much as they once did. And my wages are not increased in proportion. And then the war. All I had saved for years went for war ex penses. It was fifty dollars here —fifty dollars there —fifty dollars then —twenty dollars more for the last call —fifty dol lars more for the nextlast call and so on. I had to sell my cow and silver watch to raise bounty money. Why didn't I enlist f Why didn’tyou? My son, my broth' er, my cousin, enlisted and they died or came home crippled. I was drafted —I mortgaged my house and lot to raise money to send a man in my place. What made me ? To save the Union. They told me the South wanted to get out of the U nion, and that we must whip them back. I did not quite understand the matter. I wanted the Union restored, and I joined with the Eepublican party. But all this was for nothing. We went to war I —we losthalf a million men—we ruined | the South, so it is worth nothing to the Union —they submitted—we disbanded our armies, the South laid down her arms and has gone to work, and now these same Republicans Bay the South Is out of the Union, and they are going to keep her out, for fear she will vote against them. I can’tseewhat we gained by war. And I find that the Democrats were right, and that the Democratic times were the best for the poor people. And the taxes —why I am now taxed —and taxed and taxed. I must support myself—my family—my poorer relatives—my crip pled relatives who came back from the war—l pay ten times the city, State, town and county taxes I did before—l am taxed to help support free negroes who once worked, as I have to, and supported themselves—and, worse than all, I am taxed to pay interest money to rich Bond-Holders, who live in ease, whose handsare soft, who pay no taxes, yet live on what I earn, and what all of us poor men earn. Now what chance has a poor man under such a Republi can government? A chance to work hard and die poor. From a Paris Paper. A Bomance. How an Esquimaux Woman Became the Wife of an English Nobleman. Amid these specimens of feminine archeology, grouped as we have said, before windows of the shops, you can not fail to remark a pale young woman, of small stature, and expressing herself in English with a silent accent, which gives to this language a charm hitherto unknown. A lady of a certain age and a gentleman who accompanies her, do not cease to regard her, and, according ly to a popular expression, “ to drink her words.” This young woman, who has borne, for six months only, one of the most aristocratic names of the three king doms, was called but a short time ago Tookoolita. Three years ago she in habited with the Esquimax, her coun trymen, the Bay of Ookavlear, called by the English Grinnell’s Bay, and which is situated about the sixtieth de gree of north latitude ! In the place of the elegant costume which she now wears with guch ease and grace, her attire in her native land consisted of a vest of seal skin, embroidered on the seams with red and white worsted in arabesque; a pantaloon made of the same thick material, confined her small waist and descended to the knee, leav ing to be seen, in all their exquisite proportions, her legs and diminutive feet, cased in boots of pliant red leather. Finally, her abundant head of hair of a jet black, was tied at the top of the head by a broad blue band, made of the skin of the Isatis, and colored by the unc tuous juice of a certain kind of lichen. An adopted orphan of one of the wo men of her tribe, she passed the short summer under a tufu, or tent, made of the akin of the reindeer, and nine months of the year in an igloe, that is to say, in a house built of blocks of snow, soldered together by the cold and capped by a dome of the same material. In the centre of the strange dwelling, a stone lamp, supplied with the fat of a seal, burned uninterrupted during nine months of the year—a long and dreary night. The light, among other things, served in lieu of a fireplace for drying her clothes, penetrated by the humid atmos phere, and for warming her hands, be numbed by sewing in the cold twenty degrees below zero, with needles made of bone, and thread composed of the sinews of animals. The Esquimaux have no other means of combatting the rigors of a winter, compared to which ours is but a sum mer. The debris cast upon our shore by the too frequent shipwreck of European vessels, are never burned by the natives for the purpose of warming themselves, but are employed by them in making sleighs. In fact they leave unmolested the numerous heaps bfcoal which Lady Franklin has caused to be placed at dif ferent points in the hope that they might be of service to her husband, whom she believed lost and wandering in these frozen regions. Three years ago, Lord Frederick Fitz * * made, as ensign, one of the crew of the George Henry, sent in search of Sir John Franklin. This ship was built expressly for this voyage, and was con structed after the manner of the whale ships; for a ship with high sides can not navigate these seas without great danger. On the approach of winter the George Henry was suddenly frozen up in the ice. This misfortune produced the most serious inquietude, the more so, as the stores of the ship were getting short, being now reduced to tainted salt meat and the uncertain chances of the chase. One day, or rather one night, for in winter the night reigns for nine months in the Bay of Ookavlear—a young girl, in a sleigh drawn by twelve dogs, came on the ice alongside the George Henry, climbed with uncommon agility to the deck of the ship, and commenced ex amining, with the greatest curiosity, “ the grea,t wooden house of the strang ers.” After having visited every cor ner, she perceived Sir Frederick stretched upon the Captain’s bed. Tears came to liereyes at the sight of the poor young man, about to die without the hope of relief. She immediately pro posed by gesture to take the young man with her, and to nurse him at her own house. The officers eagerly accepted this chance of relief for their compan ion, improbable as his cure seemed to be, aiding Tookoolita (this was her name) to remove Frederick to the sleigh of the kind-hearted girl. She gave the signal forstarting to the dogs by a peculiar slapping of the tongue against the roof of the mouth, and drove rapidly away with the en sign. Having arrived at her home after a two hours’ ride, she entered 0 few minutes after with a wooden vase filled with the blood of the sea-calf. To her great surprise, Frederick refused this singular drink. However, he soon overcame his repugnance, and found it excellent. This is his own expression in the volume he has published of his voyage. He partook every day, not only without distaste, but even with avidity, of this medicant, and he felt his strength return so fast, that, in three months after, dressed in the cos tume of the natives, he rivalled them in daring address, in driving a sleigh, chasing the sea calves, scaling the rocks, and carrying away birds’ nests across shoals and broken ice, not to mention that he managed in the most intrepid manner, with a single oar, his long narrow bark made of skins and called a Kias. Tookoolita accompanied him in all these excursions and did not quit him for a moment. Endowed with the marvelous facility of the people of the North in acquiring foreign languages, she not only spoke English purely, but thanks to the les sons of Frederick, she read and wrote it. About the month of April following, the George Henry was disengaged from the ice which environed her, and began to prepare for weighing anchor and re turning to England. When Tookoolita learned this news she retired to her tent of Reindeer skins, pitched on the shore. Frederick came to her and found her bathed in teara. "Bister,” said he, for he called her habitually by this name, “Bister, my mother expects you in En gland-come." Tookoolita dried her team, gave him ; her hand, and accompanied him with LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, JULY 11, 1866, out hesitation* on board the George Henry, which arrived unexpectedly three months after in England. Borne time after that, Lady Fitz , who did not quit the young stranger for a moment, still prettier in the European than in her native costume, presented her to Queen Victoria as her future daughter-in-law. The Queen declared that she would sign with her own hands the marriage contract betweep the officer of Marines and Tookoolita. “In the meantime,” added she smiling, “ as this name is a little strange, I ask of my young friend to renounce it and take thatof Victoria.” Tookoolita, now Lady Fitz ■, may be seen every day promenading in the Palias Royal, offering the singular spec tacle of an Esquimaux becoming an English lady of distinction. Nothing lost by Kindness. Nearly half a century ago, when a coach ran daily between Glasgow and Greenock, by Paisley, on a forenoon, when a little past Bishopton, a lady in acoach noticed aboy walkingbare footed, seemingly tired and struggling, with tender feet. She desired the coachman to take him up and give him a seat and she would pay for it. When they ar rived at the inn in Greenock, she in quired of the boy what was his object in coming there. He said he wished to be a sailor, and hoped some of the captains would en gage him. She gave him half a crown, wished him success, and charged him to behave well. Twenty years after this the coach was returning to Glasgow in the afternoon, on the same road. When near Bishop ton, a sea-captain observed an old widow lady on the road, walking very slowly, fatigued and weary. He ordered the coachman to put her in the coach, as there was an empty seat, and he would pay for her. Immediately after, when changing horses at Bishopton, the passengers were sauntering about, except the cap tain and the old lady who remained in the coach. The lady thanked him for his kindly feeling towards her as she was now unable to pay for a seat. To which the captain replied : “I have always sympathy for weary pedestrians, since I myself was in that state when a boy, twenty ago, near this place, when a tender-hearted lady ordered the coachman to take me up, and paid for my seat.” “Well do I remember that incident,” said she. “I am that lady, but my lot in life is changed. I was then inde pendent. Now I am reduced to poverty by the doings of a prodigal son.” “How happy am I,” said the captain, “that I have been successful in my en terprises, and am returning home to live on my fortune; and from this day I shall bind myself and heirs to supply you withtwenty-fivepounds per annum till your death.” An Ancient Dinner. The excavations at Pompeii are going on with an activity stimulated by the important discoveries made at almost every step, and the quantities of gold and silver found, which more than suf fice to cover the cost of the works. Near the temple of Juno, of which an account was recently given, has been brought to light, a house, belonging to some millionaire of the time, as the fur niture is of ivory, bronze and marble. The couches of the trinclinium, or din ner-room, are especially of extreme richness. The flooring consists of im mense mosaics, well preserved in parts, of which the centre represents a table laid out for a grand dinner. In the middle, on a large dish, may be seen a splendid peacock, with its tail spread out, and placed back to back with anoth er bird, also of beautiful plumage. Around them are arranged lobsters, one of which holds a blue egg, in its claw, a second, an oyster which appears to be fricassed, as it is open and covered with herbs, a third, a rat J'cirei, and a fourth, a small vase filled with fried grasshop pers. Next comes a circle of dishes of fish, interspersed with others of par tridges, hares and quails, which all have their heads placed between their fore feet. Then comes a row of sausages of all forms, supported by one of eggs, oysters and olives. The walls of the trinclinium are covered with fresco paintiDgs of birds, fruits, flowers, game and fish of all kinds, the whole inter spersed with drawings which lend a charm to the whole not easy to describe On a table of rare wood, carved and in laid with gold, marble, agate, and lapis lazuli, were found amphore, still con taining wine, and some goblets of onyx. A Prayer. In the State of Ohio there resided a family, consisting of an old man of the name of Beaver, and his three sons, all of whom are hard “pets” who had often laughed to scorn the advice and entreaties of a pious though very eccen tric minister, who resided in the same town. It happened one of the boys was bitten by a rattlesnake and was expected to die, when the minister was sent for in great haste. On his arrival he found the young man penitent and anxious to be prayed with. The minis ter, calling on the family, knelt down and prayed in this wise : “ 0 Lord! we thank Thee for rattlesnakes. We thank Thee because a rattlesnake has bit Jim. We pray Thee send a rattlesnake to bite John; send one to bite Bill; and, O Lord! send the biggest kind of a rattlesnake to bite the old man, for no thing but rattlesnake will ever bring the Beavef family to repentance.” The Printer’s litany. From want of gold, from wives that scold, from maidens old, by sharpers “sold” —preserve us! From foppish sneers, mock auctioneers, and woman’s tears—deliver us! From stinging flies, coal-black eyes, and babies’ cries—pro tect us! From seedy coats, protested notes, and leaky boats—protect us! From creaking doors, awifethat snores, and all such bores—defend us ! From the landlord's hand, a greedy band, now infesting our land —preserve us! From a solid take, which is our fate, sometimes to partake —henceforth de liver us! From making “pi,” which does annoy and tempers try—prevent us! They Grew In, A vagabond looking fellow was brought before a magistrate at Tour bridge on a charge of stealing turnips. After making some droll remarks he was asked by the magistrate, 1 ‘ Did you not take the turnips found in your pocket ?” “ Certainly not, ’' replied the prisoner. 1 1 1 went to sleep in the field among the turnips and these grew in my pocket—the heat of my body caus ing them to Bhoot up faster than ordin ary. I steal turnips, your worship; I ; scorn the idea!” PfettlfattMUiS. A Gipsy Divorce. A writer on the habits of the Gipsies gives the following account of the cere monies of divorce. He says: Divorce is common. It is performed over“the body of'a horse, which is sacri ficed for the occasion. The ceremony must take place, if possible, “ when the snn is at its height.” All the parties concerned in it carry long staves in their hands. A horse without blemish i B led forth, and a member of the com pany is chosen by lot to act as priest on the occasion. He walks round the ani mal several times, repeating the names of all the persons in whose possession it has been, and extolling its rare quali ties. It is then let loose, and several gipsies set off in pursuit of it. If it is wild and intractable, leaps ditches, kicks, and will not allow itself to be easily caught, the guilt of the woman is looked upon as enormous; but if it is tame and docile, her crimes are thought to be less heinous, and the death of the horse is sufficient to wash them away. But sometimes both women and horses used to be sacrificed together. The individuals who catch the horse bring it before the priest. They repeat to him all the faults and tricks it has committed, layiDg the whole of the crimes of which the woman is supposed to have been guilty to its charge, and upbraiding and scolding the dumb crea ture in an angry manner, for its conduct. They bring, as it were, aa accusation against it, and plead for Its condemna tion. When this part of the trial is finished, the priest takes a large knife and thrusts it into the heart of the horse, and its blood is allowed to flow upon the ground till life is extinct. The dead animal is now stretched out upon the ground. The husband theu takes bis stand on one side of it and the wife ou the other, and, holding each other by the hand, repeat certain appropriate sentences in the Gipsy language. They then quit hold of each other, and walk three times around the body of the horse, contrariwise, passing and cross ing each other at certain points as they proceed in opposite directions. At cer tain parts of the animal (the corners of the horse, was the Gipsy’s expression,) such as the hind and fore feet, the ‘ shoulders and haunches, the head and tail, the parties halt and face each other and again repeat sentences in their own speech at each time they halt. The two last stops they make, in their circuit round the saorifice, are at the head and tail. At the head, they again face each other, aud speak; and lastly, at the tail, they again confront each other, utter some more Gipsy expressions, shake hands, aud finally part, the one gping north, the other south, never again to be united iu this life. — Immediately after the separation takes place the womanreceivesatoken, which is made of cast iron, about an inch and a naif square, with a mark upon it, re- : sembling the Roman character!'. After the marriage has been dissolved, and the woman dismissed from the sacrifice, the heart of the horse is taken out and roasted with fire, then sprinkled with vinegar or brandy, aud eaten by the husband and friends then present; the female not being allowed to join in this part of the ceremony. The body of the horse, skin and everything about it, ex cept the heart, is buried on the spot; and years after the ceremony has taken place the husband and his friends visit the grave of the animal, to see whether"' it has been disturbed. At these visits they walk round about the grave, with much grief aud mourning. The husband may take another wife whenever he pleases, but the female is never permitted to marry agaiu. The token, or rather bill of divorce which she receives, must never be from about her person. If she loses it, or attempts to pass herself off as a woman never before married, she becomes liable to the punishment of death. In the event of her breaking this law, a council of the chiefs is held upon her conduct, and her fate is decided by a majority of the members, and, if she is to suffer death, her sentence must be confirmed by the king, or principal leader. The culprit is then tied to a stake, with an iron chain, and there cudgeled to death. The executioners do not extinguish life at one beating, but leave the unhappy woman for a little while, and return to her, and at last complete their work by dispatching her on the spot. The Old Man’s Dead, Stranger. A recent author telle of a Virginian traveling in Arkansas, who, on testing the whisky of his host, found it rather raw and unpalatable, and mixed it in the shape of a “mint-julep," which was a novel idea to theArkansian. The latter, however, was delighted with the new style of drink, indulged in it quite liberally, and learned the method of concocting it. The mournful result is told thus: “ The old man's dead, stranger.” The Virginian continued on his jour ney toward Texas, and in due course of time set out on his return. On arriving at the house before mentioned, he con cluded he would call and renew his ac quaintance with his friendly host. Ac cordingly, he rode up to the gate, and seeing one of the boys of the family standing near, asked him : “ How is the old gentleman, your father, my son ?” The boy, with an air of the most per fect indifference, replied: “Wliy, the old man’s dead, stranger.” “Is it possible. How long since?" “ About two weeks, stranger.” “Ah, indeed! Pray what was the matter with the poor old gentleman, my son ?" “Waal, now, stranger, I’ll tell ye what it war. Thar war an old feller from Virgine, he corn’d along this way last summer, and he jist ups and larns the ole man to drink greens in his licker, and you can bet your life on't it knocked him higher nor a kite!” Upon the Virginian’s suggesting to the boy that it might have been possi ble the bad quality of the whisky ex ercised a more deletrious influence upon his father’s health than the mint, he replied: “No, stranger, it war not the whisky, for we’ve allers used licker in our family, and though it made old man powerful weak, yet it never phazed old pop arro time —no, it are the greens, as sure as yer born.” “ The Joker’s Portfolio.” TRANSLATED BY J. J. S. Good Advice.— 1 1 Hear me, my friend. Yesterday I was called an ass by Mr. Jones, and I intend to prosecute him for it. What do you think of it ?” “ If I were you I would not do it.” “Why?” “Because he might prove the charge, and that would compromise you.” The Shepherd.—The Bishop of Wurtzburg once asked a sprightly shepherd boy: “What are you doing here my lad ?” “ Tending swine.” “ How much do you get?” “ One florin a week.” “lalso am a shepherd,” continued the Bishop, “ but I have a much better salary.” “ That may all be, but then I suppose you have more swine under your care,” innocently replied the boy. Scene in a Country School.— Teacher: “How do you pronounce ‘Proof?’ ” Pupil: “P-ro-ff.” Teacher: “Incorrect 1 ” Pupil: “Pru—pru—” Teacher: "You have it on the end of your tongue.” ' Pupil: (Raising his hand to his mouth) “No, sir, it’s only a hair,” “Trouble In the Camp.” Under this caption the National In telligencer %ives the following account of the effect, upon the Radical leaders, of the President’s message of June 22d, informing Congress of the transmission of their “constitutional amendments” to the Governors of the several States: A peal of thunder from a clear sky could not have startled the leaders of the Congressional party nearly so much as the neat little message of the Presi dent ou theconstitutionalamendments. It was the more effective because totally unexpected. It was truly a home thrust. It struck the revolutionary junto in its most vulnerable part. It fell like a twenty-inch shell into their very head quarters, and produced acompletepanic in their camp. It lias utterly demol ished their latest and most cunningly devised artifice to circumvent the Con stitution and swindle the people. The chief of the star chamber raves with impotent rage at this misfortune. His sworn henchmen swear dire vengeance against everything and everybody, but are at a loss what to do. The success of this scheme was their last hope. Upon it they bad cast the whole fortune of their most despeate and unholy enter prise. Now inevitable defeat starA them in the face. This message of the President has been infinitely more effective than a regular veto of the constitutional amend ment. If they had beeu submitted for Executive consideration, and the Presi dent’s objections had been presented, and the amendments had been adopted by a two-third vote of Congress after a consideration of these objections, the Revolutionists could have gone before the country with the issue fairly made up. They could then have presented to the people at least a consciousness of right, which would have been some palliation for the enormity of their of fences. As it is, however, they stand convicted of a deliberate attempt, know ingly, to commit a fraud upon the pub lic. The people will recollect that when a Republican Congress, by the | aid of Democratic votes passed the con stitutional amendment abolishing slavery, it was submitted to the President for liis approval. When it was sent to the people of the several States for their ratification, it bore the signature and sanction of Presi dent Lincoln. They will nownaturally inquire why these- resolutions, pro posing to change the-organic law of the land in most important features, have been withheld from Executive consider ation —why were they not submitted to the President, the chosen agent aud representative of the whole people, and the sworn defender of the Constitution, forapproval or disapproval? The reason is now apparent. The authors of this hideous abortion were afraid of a Presi dential veot. They were, in their own hearts, conscious that the amendments were foully wrong aud outrageous. They knew that the arguments against them that would be offered by the Presi dent would stamp upon them such a seal of condemnation, that hardly a State could be coaxed, or driven, or bribed to ratify them. They wanted to give to these amendments a semblance of having been constitutionally adopted without allowing either the President or the people to act upon them. They rushed them through Congress under the whip and spur of party dictation. Honorable Senators were forced to ac knowledge that they voted for them only because they felt obliged “to abide by the decision of party friends.” They attempted to bring them before the State Legislatures for ratification, with out affording the President an oppor tunity to state his objections and to pro test against such an outrage. Their organs everywhere industriously circu lated the false report that the President was not opposed to their adoption; that the passage of these amendments by Congress had brought the President aud Congress once more in perfect ac cord ; and they called upon the State Legislatures to ratify this restoration of these Union-restoring amendments. With deepest solicitude, they were pressing the matter, with indecent baste, upon the attention of the State Legislatures, already adjourned and about to expire, so as to prevent the peo ple from acting upon them in the elec tion of new Legislatures. All was going ‘’merry as a marriage bell.” The Revolutionists were in high spirits. Their bold, desperate, aud das tardly enterprise promised to be suc cessful. Tennessee had been carefully manipulated. The rump Legislature which notoriously does not represent one-fifth of the lawful voters of the State, had been called together, (upon the suggestions of the conspirators,) not to consider but to ratify the amend ments. With this fulcrum for their operations they were sanguine of being able to wheedle enough Northern States and to bully enough Southern States into following the example of Tennessee to proclaim a constitutional majority of States in favor of the amendments, and thus cure the.fatal defect of their pas sage in the Senate by less than the con stitutional majority—by less even than a simple majority of the whole Senate, when two-thirds of the whole were re quired. In the midst of this brilliant prospect —this revel of high hopes of the success of their conspiracy—President Johnson, like an avenging deity, suddenly stalk ed into the camp of the conspirators with his protesting message. Had Beel zebub risen among them to claim his own, or had Gabriel sounded in their guilty ears his fearful summons to the final judgment, they could not have been more astounded. Their splendid scheme of treachery aDd fraud is thus frustrated. Their guilty consciousness of the foul wrong they were about\to perpetrate upon the people is laid bare. The base falsehood of the annunciation that the President had assented to their plan and was in accord with them is exposed. The magnificent triumph over the President, the Constitution, and the people they were ready to clutch, is melting away in their very grasp, like “ the baseless fabric of a vis ion.” The ratification by the rump Le gislature of Tennessee may be procured, but it will be equivalent to an act of forgery. It will be a base and shame less fraud upon the people of the State. It is already certain that neither Mary land nor Indiana will ratify this out rageous abominatiSn, and without them the constitutional majority of States cannot be obtained. Some of the South- ern States, crushed and helpless as they are, may be driven by desperation to degrade and humiliate themselves to commit moral and political suicide, by endorsing this outrage upon them, and by plunging this poisoned dagger into their own hearts; but since the exposi tion of the falsehood and treachery and craven guiltiness of its authors, even should all the eleven States hug this Eli an tom to their bosoma, there cannot e found besides enough Northern States to adopt it to make the requisite con stitutional majority. The Philadelphia Convention. The Washington correspondent of the Baltimore Sun Bays : The proposed National Union Con vention seems a political necessity of the day. If there is to be any organized opposition to radical rule in this country it must somewhere be commenced. To concentrate the conservative elements, now scattered and without head, and give them a proper direction, under effi cient leaders, is the object of the con vention now called for. This body is not to nominate any person to officer. It is not to distribute spoils, but to har monize the country. The Nqrth has had none but party conventions for years. We want one convention of Union men representing the people. I learn that Secretary Seward commends the plan and thatThurlow Weed advo cates it. It.is proposed to admit repre sentatives from the excluded Southern States, without the iron clad oath, but upoD reasonable evidence of patriotic In tention to maintain the Union and the Constitution Mr. Seward, it Is said, favors Phila lelphia as the place where the Union convention should beheld. Pennsylvania is the battle-ground of Union at (becoming election, and there fore it is the State where all Union i strength should be concentrated. NUMBER 27. A Political Blander. “Vaulting ambition -overleaping it self,” was never more strikingly exem plified than it was by Forney the other day at Lebanon, announcing himself a candidate for the Senate of the Untted States. The boldness of his avowal and that he intends to stump the State in favor of himself, have aroused other as pirants, and already the evidence of a fierce encounter is visible throughout the State. Here at home the Gazette and the Commercial have already said sharp things to each other, in connec tion with the Senatorial question. For ney made amistakewhich will be taken advantage of by his more wary antago nists, and especially by the crafty, steal thy, and indomitable Cameron. When Forney was re-elected Clerk of the House of Representatives in 1858, he, in a speech to his admirers who were congratulating him upon his triumph, compared himself to Mazeppa. “The Tarter lad raised in Polish climes,” returning from Tartary to Poland to claim the fairOlinska; in his present undertaking he will have as rough a ride as the young Tartar had, without reaching the coveted prize. Putting himself forward in the osten tatious way he has, avowing great con fidence in his own abilities to Bhine in the first deliberative body in the coun try, and that, too, without ever having a day’s experience in any legislative assembly, is an undertaking that most men wouldshrink from. Modesty, how ever, never troubled Forney, aud liis announcing himself a candidate for the United States Senate, determined to stump the State in his own behalf, does not look that even prudence comes to him with increasing years. Consider ing the public record of Forney one would think that he would shrink from a position,which would cause its venti lation, but his vanity is enormous and his ambition towering. Sir Giles Over reach never longed more intensely to make his daughter “right’honorable” than the dead duck sighs for the cush ioned chairnow occupied by Mr. Cowan ' But will he succeed.in his aspirations ? not a bit of it. Whilehe is going about the state mak ing windy speeches in his own praise, old Simon will be spotting his men throughout the commonwealth, as is his wont, and should the Abolitionists have the next Legislature, it is fair to infer that the great Winnebago chieftan will again rattle his bells as Mr. Cow an’s successor. But, thanks to the in domitable Democracy of Pennsylvania and their patriotic allies in the approach ing contest for Governor, the masses have no idea of electing a Legislature which will elect either Cameron or For ney or any other of their stripe to the United States Senate. This they have made up their minds to and the whole corrupt set of aspirants may even now take back seats, for certain they are, if they persist, in being left out in the cold. All the thousands which the “loyal” patriots have accumulated by contracts and otherwise, cannot save their party from overwheming defeat at the coming election. The masses have said it; and, in the language of General Jackson their motto is for all “to put their shoulders to the wheel, pray to God for strength and push on the column.” — Pittsburg Post. Frontiersmen of the Olden Time. Col. Marcy recites the following con versation with an old frontiersman while marching in 1848 with a battalion from Little Rock to Fort Towson : “ Are you gwine fur to jine ole Zaek down in Mexico?” “ No, sir, the Mexican war is ended, and we are now on the way for the Choctaw nation.” “ Whar did ye come from, stranger?” “ We came last from Pascagoula.” “ Mought you be the boss hossifer of thararmy?” pointing to the men. “ I the the commanding officer of that detachment, sir.” “Wall, Mr. Hossifer, be them sure ’nuff sogers, or is they make b’lieve chaps, like I seen down to Orleans ?” “ They have passed through the Mexi can war, and I trust they have proved themselves notonly worthy theappella tion of real, genuine soldiers, but of vet erans, sir.” “Now I gest want to know one thing more, boss; be them chaps reg-lars or be they melish?” “I assure you that they belong fo the regular army of the Uniled States.” Then, pointing to my uniform, he ad ded, “Appuriently, then, fightin’s your trade.” “I adopted the profession of arms at an early age,” I replied. “War you at the Orleans fight, whar our boys gin such particluar fits to ole Pack?” I answered that, though a pretty old soldier, my commission did not date quite so far back as 1814. “Wall, ole boss, you moughn’ta been thar, but you ain’t no chicken now, sure.” He continued, “Onetimeme and him, Ike Thompson, we went on a sogerin’ spree.” “Ah ! indeed ; in what place did you serve, pray!” “In severial places; but the last pop, we fout at the battle of the Horse-Shoe, whar we and ole Hickry cleaned out the Ingines.” “That was a most decisive and san guinary battle,” I observed. “I calkerlate, Mr. Hossifer, that war the most decisivest and the most sau guinariest fight you ever seen in all yer born days. We boys, we up and pitched in thar, and we gin the yeller-belliesv the most particular hailColumby. We chawed umallup; welaid um outcolder nur awedge ; we saved every mother’s son of um—we did that thar little thing, boss.” I replied that I had no doubt very many of the Indians were killed, but that I had always been under the im pression that some of them made their escape; and, in fact, I was very confi dent that several Creek Indians were then living upon the Canadian River who participated in- the battle of the Horse-Shoe. He said he “ rayther reckon’d not;” but, at all events he was quiet certain “ef any of the dogond varmits did git away, they war d—d badly wounded sartin sure.” He then produced a bottle of whisky, and gave me a pressing invitation “ to liquor,” remarkingtbathe “war not too proud to take a horn with a fellur soger, even if he war a reg’lar. After having taken the drink, he ap proached me, and in a serious tone said, “ Thar’s narry paper tuck in this yere settle-menf, but I beam tell thatGinirul Jackson ar dead; maybe you mought heer’d some talk bout it as you coin’d ’long the road, stranger?” Oiling a Ventriloquist, A physician says that he was going down the Mississippi, some months since, on a steamer whose engine was upon the deck, and he sauntered in that vicinity to see the working of the ma chinery. Near by stood a man appar ently bent on the same object- In a few moments a squeaking noise was heard on the opposite side of the engine. Seizing the oil can, a gigantic one by the way, the engineer sought out the dry spot, and to prevent further noise of th 3 kind, liberally applied the contents of his can to every joint. All went all well for a while when the squeaking was heard in another direction. The oiling process was re peated, and quiet restored; but as the engineer was coming quietly around towards the spot occupied by the doctor and the stranger, he heard another squeak. This time he detected the true cause of the difficulty. The stranger was a ventriloquist. Walking directly up behind him, he seized the astonished joker by the back of theneckandemptied the contents of the can down his spine. « There!” said he, “ I don’t believe that engine will squeak again.” BATES OfAPTIETMHB. niißinica numanKfiim, —■ - -■ sqn&re’of ten Uneß; ten per oent, increasewr fractions of a year, , B«AT, EBTATB, PxSSOZfAXi PBOTZSTT, BJld W* sBAZi AnyzsTzanvo t . 7 oenta a line tor tne first, and 4 oenU for eaeh snbseqnent Inner* Pateht Medicotb and other advert by th* column: On© column, 1 year,- ——.—..4100 •waif column, 1 year —— 00 Third oolumn, 1 year,—-—.... 40 , Quarter oolumn, 80 business Oasds, often lines or less, one year, - 10 Business Cards, five lines or less, one £ year,....— ............ 5 Legal and othxb Notices— Executors’ notices - —... *»00 Administrators' notices,...— 2.00 Assisfneea’ notices,..— ................. 2.00 Auditors’ notices, I*so Other “Notices, ’ ten lines, or less, three times, - SO The Republican Party. The New York Herald , which haa been the leading journal of the Repub lican party since 1556, when It supported John C. Fremont, and which was con spicuous for its devotion to Abraham Lincoln throughout his administration, candidly admits that the Republican : party is on its last legs. Referring to the call for a Convention at Philadel phia, the Herald says: The demoralization of the Republican party is now so evident that nobody can afiect ignorance of the fact. This <m]l has torn away the Veil of sophistry -fly which the Republican politicians have sought to conceal theiraissensions from the people, and everybody can now see what a rotten, disorganized aud moribund body the once powerful Republican party really is. It will be impossible to go beforethepeople at the next elections with any of the old pre tences of harmony after this remarka ble revelation of discord and antago nism. The Republican party, like a huge monopoly, is falling to pieces from its own corruption. It has no strength outside of Congress. In no'State tion siuce the war has it dared to meet the questions at issue boldly and sin cerely. During the war it dodged all responsibility and palliated all offences by pleading the military necessity for its continuance in power. Siuce the war it has still talked wildly of “ cop perheads,” “ loyalty,” “traitors” and other catchwords to deceive and delude the voters. Rut at last it has been broken up by its owu members, and the coming elections will probably seal its fate. When we look at the present Congress we behold the Republican party as it exists in its moral aud political degene racy. A more corrupt body than this Cougress never disgraced any country. It is one immense, concentrated, detest able job from beginning to end. It is composed of men who made dishonest fortunes during the war ; of bogus gen erals, who killed ouly their owu men ; of knavish contractors, who purchased their seats in order to continue their robberies of the Treasury ; of raving fauatics, who ought to be in Bedlam; of small politicians, whose only ambi tion is to steal enough money to build a house; of foolish philosophers, who love to air their theories, but who have not asingle practical idea; and of weak minded members, who are entirely under the control of the jobbers in the lobby and are paid accordingly. The very few good men in it are but the ex ceptions that prove the rule, and their purity makes the immorality of the ma jority all the blacker by the contrast. Legislation in this Cougress is a great game of grab. We seek in vain for any measure based upon true principles of public policy ; they are all instigated by private cliques from the meanest motives of political or personal aggran dizement. Yet this Congress, such os it is, com prises the Republican party of the pres ent day. With the members we nave described, with legislation completely controlled by jobbing or political schemers, with debates that seldom rise above blaekguaidism,aud with a policy which simply consists in the cowardly aud unconstitutional exclusion of the Southern States for partisan objects, it continues to defy public sentiment and is only anxious to prolong its existence as much as possible. It has few apolo gists aud no friends. Kven the radical officeholders distrustits power to protect them and are ready to turn upon it at any moment. The people are disgUßted with it. The tax collectors are present ing the very strongest arguments against it. When it dies the Republi can party, which has become identified with it, must die also. The so-called party of reform, it now needs a thorough reformation. It professed to be im bued with moral ideas, but has become notorious for disreputable practices. During the war it cloaked its crimes with loyalty; but now that the war is over it stand exposed in all its depravity to the eyes of the people. In a word, its mission is accomplished and it must give place to another and better party. An Extraordinary Story. A Mcchnnic’N Wife receives a Legacy oL 835,000,000—T1i0 Bichest Woman In America. [From the Hartford Courant, Juno 28.] The fickleness of fortune is well illus trated in the experience of a worthy family in this city, who have suddenly found tliemselVes raised from that con dition in society where people are said to live in “moderate circumstances” to the highest pinnacle of wealth. The facts are these: Mrs. EU Walker, re siding at No. 100 Maple avenue, is a woman of English birth. Her husband (who is a machinist by trade) and her self have resided here for a number of years, and have several children. It was reported some months ago that a large property, valued at thirty-five millions of dollars, had fallen to Mrs. Walker’s father, as a direct heir, and ha being dead, that the whole amount be longed to her as his only child. Steps were at once taken to ascertain the truth of this report, and ex-Governor T. H. Seymour was employed to Inves tigate. The result of his investigation is entirely favorable to Mrs. Walker, documents having been received which show beyond question that she will come in possession of this Immense property, and she, together with her husband and chiidren, will Btart for England next week to receive the golden egg. It is said that upon a full settlement of all matters connected with this most extraordinary “streak of luck,” Mrs. Walker will return to Hartford and make her permanent residence here. Rumor hath it that she will erect upon someeligibJefliteamagnlficent mansion, following the style of the grand villas and castles of Merry England, which shall excel in grandeur the most costly of American palaces. But the lady has not probably given any one permission to make such a statement. It is more reasonable to suppose that some gossipper, thrilled by the intelligence of the “windfall,” has allowed his imagination to picture, as Melnotte pictured to Pauline, a fklry palace with marble halls by the Lake of Como. Yet it would not be surprising if the fortunate possessor of thirty-five millions in solia gold should desire to erect here —where years of toil have been expended to furnish a daily sup port —a mansion suitable to a life of luxury and ease, and creditable to the city which she adopted as a home. We congratulate Mrs. Walker and her family upon their good fortune. She will be, when in full possession of her property, the richest woman in the United States. But she is said to be a woman of good sense, and will not place herself beyond the reach of those who have been her friends during the years she has lived here; already we learn that it is her purpose to make one family at least, in whom she is interes ted, independent of want; and we shall probably be called upon hereafter to chronicle other charitable deeds which her generosity will prompt. General Kilpatrick under a Cloud. I From the Rochester Union.] It was stated recently that a distin guished American functionary on the Pacific coast of South America had caused a sensation, by introducing into fashionable circles a woman whose vii> tue and standing were not even liable to be questioned. Who the functionary might be was not stated in the first announcement, but hints were thrown out that it was Gen. Kilpatrick, Min ister to Chile. A despatch from Wash ington says charges are said to have been presented at the State Department affecting the private conduct of ex-Major General Kilpatrick, Minister to Chile. It is announced that the Secretary of State will immediately investigate the charges, which, if found to be based on facts, will cause the speedy recall of General KJlpasfcstr ft »I» » ; yew J>w
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