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
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