kuaraszeD =UM WEDNXIIDAT BY H. G. Ei*ITR,4I:CO. H. G. SMITH TEEMS—Two Dollars per annuni, payable all oases la advance. OFFICE-SOUTHWEST CORNER OT CENTRE SQUABS. Sir A.ll letters on basilica should be ad dresuled.to H. G. Burnt & • . at* Written for the New York Freeman's Journal PRAYER OF TUE SOETK: My_brOw. is bent beneath a heavy rod! y face is wan and white with many woes, But I will lift my poor, chained bands to God, And for my children pray, and for my foes. Beside the graves where thousands lowly lie, I kneel—and weeping for each slaughtered son, I turn my gaze to my own sunny sky, And pray, Oh! Father, may thy will be done. My heart is filled with anguish, deep and vast; My hopes are buried with my children's dust, My Joys nave fled—my tears are flowing fast; In whom, save Thee, our Father, shall I trust, Ah! I forgot Thee, Father, long and oft, Wheh I was happy, rich, andproud, and free; But conquered now, and crushed, I look aloft, And sorrow leads me, Father, back to Thee. ... Amid the wrecks that mark the foeman's path I kneel—and wailing o'er my glories gone I still each thought of hate, each throb of wrath, And whisper—Father! let thy will be done. Pity me, Father of the Desolate! Maki! my burdens are so hard to bear; Look down In mercy on my wretched fate, And keep me, guard me with Thy loving care. Pity me, Father! for His holy sake Whose broken Heart bled at the feet of Grief, That hearts of earth, wherever they shall break, Might go to His and find a sure miler. Ah, Mel how dark! Is this a brief eclipse? Or is It Night with no To-morrow's Sun ? Oh! Father! Father! with my pale, sad 111 s, And sadder heart, I pray—Thy will be done. My homes are Joyless, and a million mourn Where many met In Joys forever flow., ; Whose hearts were light, are burdened now, and loru, Where many smiled, but one is left to mourn, Aud ah I the widows' walls, the orphans' cries . Are morning-hymn, and vesper chant, to me; A ud groans of men, and sounds i. f women's sighs Commingle, Father, with my prayer to Thee. Beneath my feet—ten thousand children dead— ! how I loved earls known, and nameless, one! Above their dust I bow my cruwuless head, And murmur—Father! still—l by will be done. An I Father, Thou dldst deck my own loved land With all bright charms, and beautiful and lair But Bunnell mune, and with a ruthless hand Spread ruin, wreck and desolation there. Girdled with gloom—of all my brightness shorn, And garmented with grief, I kiss Thy rod ; And turn nay face, with tears all wet, and worn, To catch one smile of pity from my God. Around me blight, where all before was bloom! And so much lost—alas! and nothing won; Save this—that, I can lean on wreck and tomb, And weep—and weeping pray—Thy will be done. And oh 'Hs hard to say—but said, Us sweet— The words are bitter, but they hold a balm; A balm that heals the wounds of my deleat, And lulls my sorrows Into holy calm. IL Is the 'prayer of Prayers—and how it brings, When heard In Heaven, peace and hope to rne ; When Jesus prayed it, did not angels' wings Glean 'lc Id the darkness of Gethsemane ? My children, Father, Thy forgiveness need! Alas! their hearts have only place for tears; Forgive them, Father, ev'ry wren • ful deed And ev'ry sin, of those four bloody years. And give them strength to bear their boundless Lose, And from their hearts take every thought of bate ; And while they climb their Calvary with their Cross, Oh! help them, Father, to endure Its • weight. Aud or my Dead, my Father, may I p ray? Ah ! sighs may soothe, but pray er shall soothe me more! I keep eternal watch above their clay— Oh ! rest their souls, my Father, I Implore! Forgive my foes—they know not what they do— Forgive them all the tears they made me shed; Forgive them—though my noblest sons they slew— And bless Diehl—though they curse my poor, dear Dead ! Oh! may my woes be each a carrier-dove With swift, white wings, that, bathing In my Leant. Will bear Thee, Father, all my prayers of love, And bring me peace in all my doubts and fears. Father ! I kneel 'mid ruin, wreck and grave, A desert-waste—where all was rest so fair; And lor my children and my foes I crave Pity and pardon—Father! hear my prayer! Xiteilvem. The Female Secretary, or Loye In Dis guise. Alone in the world! alone in the great city of Paris, a world in itself! alone, scarcely a livre in my purse! Such were my reflections as I turned away from the now empty house in which for two and twenty years I had dwelt with my poor, wasteful, uncalcu lating father. My father was a soholar of most stupendous attainments, parti cularly in Oriental literature, but a per fect child in all that relates to the ordi nary affairs of life. Absorbed in his studies, he let his pecuniary matters take care of themselves. Consequently, when death suddenly laid him low and deprived me of my only friend and pro tector, his affairs were found to be in a state of inextricable confusion. His effects, including the noble library of Eastern lore which it had been the labor of his life to collect, were seized and sold to pay his debts, and were found insufficient. My mother had died when I was a child, and my father had educated me himself, pouring into my young and eager mind the treasures of knowledge he possessed. I was—l say it without boasting—a prodigy of learning, but in all that relates to domestic economy, as to the ordinary attainments of Woman, I was ignorant as my father himself. I lingered near the house until the sale was over, and the last cart-load of goods had been removed. Then I re paired to a wretched garret in the Rue du Temple, where I had found a refuge, and where I could, by the exercise of my talents, replenish my purse and pro cure a better lodging. Here I sat down, and took a calm survey of my position, and questioned myself as to what em ployment I was fit for. Of the usual feminine accomplish. ments, I possessed none, 1 could neither draw nor paint, I could not play a note of music on my instruments. I could sing it is true, but knew nothing of the science of vocal music; I did not know a word of Spanish, or Italian, or German, or English ; even with the lit erature of France I was but little ac. quainted ; but I could read the cunei form characters of Babylon and Herse polis as readily as you read this page. Sanscrit, Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, and Chaldaic flowed from my tongue as freely as a nursery ryhme. As an in structress of young ladies, therefore, I could not hope to find a livelihood, but as an assistant to some learned man or body of men, I knew that my attain ments would be invaluable. Full of hope, therefore, and with a cheerful heart, I set about obtaining a situation. Hearing that the Oriental department of the Bibliotheque du Rio was about to undergo some alteration, and that an assistant librarian was wanted to rear range and recatalogue the books, I ap plied at once for the situation. I was closely examined as to my qualifications, and much surprise was manifested at the proficiency I had attained In these unwonted studies but my application was refused, because I was a woman. I next answered by letter the adver tisement of a distinguished servant who was about to undertake the translation of the Sacred Vedas and was in want of an amanuensis. To this I received the following reply : " MADEMOISELLE : If your attain ments in the Sanscrit are such as you represent them, I am convinced that you would exactly suit me, were you a young man. But lam a bachelor ; there is not a single female in my establish inent ; your sex renders it impossible for me to employ you as my amanuensis." My sex again ! Discouraged, but not daunted, I applied successively to the Societe Asiatique. to the librarian of the Institute, and to three or four private individuals of mow or less note. From all of them I received the same answer —the situation was not opento women. Meantime the few francs I had atmy - fither's death vanished, one by one. ,The woman from whom .I hired my room became clamorous for her rent. I had a few superfluous articles-of cloth lug. I disposed of them at the Mont de A. J. OniasatAN VOLUME 68 Piete, and thus kept the wolf from the door a little longer, When they were all gone; what should I do? • True, there are in Paris many employ ments open to women, but what was that to me? Could I stand behind a counter and set forth, with glib tongue, the merits of ribbons and laces ; or bend over the rich embroidered robe of the fashionable lady; or even like those poor washerwomen, earn my scanty livelihood by arduous manual labor; I knew nothing of business ; I knew nothing of embroidery; and I had neither the strength nor the capital necessary to set up the establishmentof a blanchisituse. I had returned home one evening after another weary tramp. As I look ed from my lofty attic, and saw Paris glittering with her million lights,lsaid myself: " Must I perish of hunger in these streets? No! I 'Alan abjure my sex, and in the semblance of themselves, win from men that subsistence which they deny to a woman." The thought was no soonerconceived than executed. Tearing off part of my woman's attire, I threw around me an old cloak of my father's which now served me as a coverlet to my lowly bed, and descended the long flight of stairs to the street. Determined to have legal sanction for what I was about to do, I went straight to the Prefelagre of Poice. It was not very late, and' the Prefect was still in his bureau. I en tered his presence, told him my story, and demanded permission to put on male attire, and assume a masculine name, in order to obtain the means of subsistence. He heard me respectfully, treated me kindly, and advised me to ponder well before I took a step so un usual and unseemly. But I was firm. Seeing my determination, he granted me a written permission. Early next morning I took what re mained of my feminine wardrobe and halted to the Marche de Vieux Linge, (old close market) which was not far from my place of abode. In this place I exchanged, without much difficulty, my female habiliments for a suit of respectable masculine at tire. I took it homei; and with feelings of shame of which I' could not get rid, but yet unflinchingly resolute, arrayed myself in it. As a woman I know lam not handsome ; my mouth is large and my skin dark ; but this rather favored my disguise ; had I been very pretty, my beardless face and weak voice might have awakened more suspicion. I cut my hair off short, parted it on one side, brushed it with care, and crowned it with a jaunty cap, which, I must say, was very becoming to me.— In this dress I appeared a tolerably well-looking youth of nineteen or there abouts, for the change of gar ments made me look younger than what I was. As I surveyed myself in the little cracked looking glass which served me as a mirror I could not helplaughing at the transformation. Certainly no one would have recognized me, for I could scarcely recognize myself. Folding the old cloak around me, I sallied forth. With the long thick braid of hair I had cut from my head, I pur chased a breakfast, the best I had eaten in a long time. Then went direct to the residence of the gentleman 'who said I would suit him exactly, if I were a young man. There had been something in the tone of this gentleman's letter that attracted me, I could not tell why. To my great joy he had not found the person be wanted ; and after a short conversation he engaged me, at what seemed to me a princely salary. He told me laughingly that a young woman had applied for the situation a short time previous ; and seemed very much amused at the circumstance. My employer was a man already past his prime. His hair was slightly sprinkled with gray, and his form showed that tendency to fullness so frequently found in persons of seden tary habits. But in his fine, thoughtful e 1 es, and expansive brow, one saw evi d nee of that noble intellect for which h was distinguished, while his beam ing smile and pleasant voice and man ner went straight to my lonely and desolate heart, and affected me so much ! t ' at I almost disgraced my manhood b bursting into tears. He occupied a modest but commodi o s house in the Quartier Latin. His d mestic affairs were administered by a respectable looking elderly man, who p, rformed the part of cook, to his own honor and the entire satisfaction of his master; while a smart but mischievous imp of ahoy ran of errands, tended the Ares, swept the rooms, and kept old Dominique in a continual fret, by his tricks, and shortcomings. Here, in the well-furnished library of .. y new master, with every conveni e s ce for the annotation and elucidation, t. e translation of the Vedas was com- .. enced. Like my father, my employer -as possessed of vast erudition, but, unlike him, he was also a man of the world, high in favor at court, wealthy, Il'onored, and enjoyed the friendship of a the most noted savans and other c lebrities of the metropolis. During t e progress of the work some of these Would occasionally enter the study where I sat writing almost incessantly, and I saw more than one to whom I applied in the days of my misery and Lad been rejected. But happily no one recognized me. My kind master expressed great as tonishment at my proficiency in Sans crit, and frequently declared my ser vices to be invaluable to him. I was sometimes able to render a passage which he had given up as intractable and he more than once asserted that my name should appear on the title page as well as his own. My name? Alas ! I had no name. My master frequently chid me, for my unceasing devotion to my work; and would sometimes playfully come be hind, as I sat writing, snatch the manu script from my desk, and substitute in its place some new and popular book, Or some time-honored French classic, to which he would command me to give my whole attention for the next two hours, on pain of his displeasure. His kindness to me knew no bounds. He ordered Dominique and the boy Jean to treat me with as much respect da himself. He took me with him to the Oriental lectures of the Bibliotheque du Rol. He procured for me the entree to the discussions of several literary and scientific bodies, and afforded me every facility for the improvement of my mind and the development of my powers. He introduced me to all that was noblest and best in the great aris tocracy of intellect, and constantly spoke of me as a young man of great promise, who would one day be heard of in the world. He used to rally me on my studious habits, and often expressed surprise that a young man of my years should not seek the society of his compeers, and especially of that other sex, to which the heart of youth usually turns with au irresistible, magnet-like attraction. Little did he dream that the person he addressed belonged to that very sex of which he spoke. One day he startled me by saying, "What pretty hair you have, Eugene ; it is as soft and fine as that of a young girl's." The conscious blush rushed to my face, for I thought he had surely dis covered my secret, but one glance at his calm countenance re-assured me. In his large, open, honest heart, there never entered a suspicion of the "base deception" that had been practised upon him. He did not notice my emotion and I answered, in as calm a voice as I could command, "My mother had fine, soft hair ' • I have inherited it from her." Thus passed a year, the happiest I ad ever known.. My master became finder and more affectionate every day. e would address me as "mon filB, ' and seemed indeed to regard me with feel ings warm as those of a father to a son. And I—what were my sentiments towards this good and noble man who was so kind to me? I worshipped him; he was everything.to me. Father and mother were gone, sisters and brothers I had none ,• other friends I had never known. My,master was all the world to me. To serve him was all I lived for. To:love him, though with- a love that a 4 ., I• , • .• • • • • • • • I " • • 1 •i • .‘ • • • ; , 11: .! •?1, • ••• •g ; • • iti • • 71 . , , ,•,,„ , , rr itt , .1 .•• • , could never be known, never be- re turned, was enough for me. I have said that I was very happy, but there was one drawback to my hap piness. It lay in the self-reproach I felt for the deception practiced. on .my benefactor. Many times I resolved to resume my woman's garment—a suit of which I always kept by me, safe under lock and key—fall at his feet, and con fess all. But the fear that he would spurn me; the certainty that he would drive me ft*lm his presence, restrained me. I could not endure to live away from him. Although he was, of course, uncon scious of the intensity of feeling with which I regarded him, he knew, for I did not conceal it, that I was much at tached to him; and I was aware that I, or rather Eugene, was very dear to him. On one occasion as we sat together in the study he said to me abruptly "How old are you, Eugene?" "Twenty-two," I answered. "He sat silent for some moments; then he said : "If I had married in my early years, I might have had a child as old as you. Take my advice, Eugene, marry early ; form family ties, then your old age will not be as lonely as mine is." "0 my dear master!" cried I, safe under my disguise "no son could love I you as dearly as do. A son would leave you to win a place for himself in the world; but your faithful Eugene will cling to you through life; he only asks to remain with you always." "My good Eugene!" said my master, grasping my hand warmly, your words make me happy. lam a lonely man, and the affectlion which you. a stranger youth, entertain for me fills me with profound and heartfelt joy." Ah! then my trembling heart asked itself the question : "What would he think if he knew that it was a young girl who felt for him this pure and ten der affection." Something whispered that he would be rather pleased than otherwise, and a wild temptation seized me to tell him all—but I could not—l could not. As my labors approached their com pletion, a gloomy feeling of dread op pressed me. I feared that when the Ve das were finished my master would no longer require my services. But he re lieved my fears by re-engaging me, and expressing a desire to retain me as his secretary until I become too famous and too proud to fill the office contentedly. Scarcely was this cause for dread re moved, when another, more terrible still, overtook me. One evening he took me with him to a literary reunion, at which every bet esprit of the capital was to be present. At first I refused to go, for I feared that the eyes of some of my own sex might penetrate my disguise; but he seemed so much hurt at my refusal that I was forced to withdraw it. The soiree was a very brilliant one. But little notice was taken of the shy, silent youth, who glided from room to room, hovering ever near the spot where his beloved master stood or sat, in conversation with the gifted of both sexes. How I envied the ladies whose hands he touch ed, and to whom his polite attentions were addressed. For, as I have said, my master was a man of the World, wealthy and distinguished ; and not withstanding his advanced years, ladies still courted his attentions. There was one lady in particular who spared no pains to attract him to herself. She was the widow of a celebrated liter ateur, and she was herself a brilliant, but shallow writer. She was not young, but she was well preserved and owed much to the arts of the toilette. I saw her lavishing her smiles and blandishments on my dear master; saw that he was not insensible to the power of her charms, artificial as they were ; and a cruel jealousy fastened, like the vulture of Prometheus, on my vitals. Could I but have entered the list with her on equal grounds ; could I but have appeared to him in my own proper per son, arrayed in appropriate and maiden ly costume, I felt sure of gaining the victory, for I had youth on my side : I had already an interest in his heart; but, alas I could not do this without first announcing myself as an imposter, as a liar and deceiver to the man whose good opinion I prized above all earthly things. • A dreadful thought now rested on my mind day and night: What if this woman should accomplish her designs ? What if my master should marry her? What would then beconie of me? But I was spared this trial. The translation was finished; it was , in the hands of the publisher ; and the proof sheets had been carefully revised, partly by my master, and partly by myself. He had insisted upon putting my name with his own on the title page ; but I refused my consent with a pertinacity which he could not compre hend, and which came nearer making him angry than anything that had ever transpired between us. One day, as I sat in the library, Isaw my master come home, accompanied by two gentlemen. He did not, as was his custom with his intimates, bring them into the library, but received them in the little used reception room. They remained some time. When they left, my master came into the library, rubbing his hands and looking exceedingly well pleased. But, at sight of me, his countenance fell. He approached me, and in a tone of regret, said : `My poor Eugene! we must part." Part? It `seemed as if the sun was suddenly blotted from heaven. I started up, and looked at him with a face so white and terror-stricken that he came up to me and laid his hand kindly on my shoulder. "My poor Eugene !" he repeated, "it is too true—we must part." I tried to speak. "Part!" I cried. "0 my master—" Tears and sobs choked my utterance, in spite of all my efforts to restrain them. I sat down again, and gave ftee vent to my irrepressible grief. My master was much affected at the sight of my emotion; and for some minutes the silence was unbroken, save by my heart-wrung sobs. "Nay, Eugene, this is womanish ; bear it like a man," said he, wiping the tears from his own eyes. "Most gladly would I spare you this sorrow, most gladly retain you near me; but in this matter lam powerless. I have received an appointment from govern ment to travel in Northern Asia, in order to study the dialects of that vast region. Every individual who is to accompany me has been officially specified, and there is no place left for my poor Eugene." "0, my dear, dear master!" cried I, with clasped hands and streaming eyes, "take me with you—l shall die if you leave me—put me in the place of some one else." "Impossible," said he. "The govern ment has filled up every place with its own creatures—except," he added with a faint smile, "that they have made provision for my wife—if married. I would I had the wand of an enchanter, Eugene, that I might transform you to a woman and make you my wife." His wife! His wife! Had I heard the words aright? I sprang to my feet. I tried to say, " I am a woman—l will be your wife !" but my tongue refused its utterance—there was a rushing sound in my ears—l grasped the air wildly—l heard my master cry, " Eugene !" " Eugene!" as he rushed forward to support me, and the next moment I lost consciousness. When I recovered my senses, I was still in the arms of my master. He had n w d ll ow ar ,.an l d l to oo r k e e o c r u en p e m s t ee and t h s e h I r W m bo y rn v e in his face. One glance revealed to me that my secret was discovered. Blushing and trembling, I tried to raise myself from his arms ; but he held me fast. "Eugene," said he, In earnest tones, "tell me the truth. Are you indeed a woman?" I am. My name is Eugenie D O, my dear master ! forgive the decep tion I have practised. Do not despise me. " Eugene !" cried he injoyful accents. "you shall go with me to the Eaat! You shall go as my wife. Vive 1' Em- POTOUT LANCASTER PA. - 9VEDNY S SDAY 40.4nNG, APRIL 24, 1867. "But wherefore this disguise?" he added. I told him my story in a few words, and informed him that I was that very young - woman who had applied for the °Mee I held. "Is it possible?" exclaimed he. "But Eugenie, tell me—do you really love me as you have so often protested you did." " Yes, my dear master," I whispered. " Vive Bmpereur l" cried be again; " but for his strictness I should never have found it out. Now go, array your , self in your woman's gear, and let me see you as you really are." .1 went and resumed, with a pleasure I cannot describe, the garments I had for a whole year foresworn. When I returned, my master caught me to his heart and thanked Heaven for the "charming wife" so unexpectedly sent him. The Three Hunchbacks. The following amusing.and seemingly incredible narrative we extract from a late French publication. It is neatly told, and will be read with interest: Three brothers, all humpbacked, and all accurately alike in appearance, lived at Besancon. One Of them killed a man in chance medley, but not being taken on the moment, the prosecutors could only swear that one of the three brothera had done the deed. Rather than put an innocent man to death, the Judge let the guilty one escape, but to avoid further inconvenience of the kind, he banished all from the province. One settled in Paris, became rich, and mar ried; the others, after nearly starving in Eni,land, returned and paid a visit to their fortunate brother. The master of the house was abroad when they knocked, and the poor wife was troubled more than a little by the visit. "My husband is very jealous," said she to them while she was giving them something to eat. "You must go to the farthest quarter of the town, and never come here again ; but I'll make your brother look to your wants."— Whileshe was speaking she heard her husband's knock, and cried out, "Fol low me, if you value your lives." She ordered the servant not to open the door till she should return, and then conveyed the brothers down the stairs and locked them into the cellar. Her husband scolded for being kept out so long, but a good dinner restored him to good humor, and at night he went out to pay a visit. The wife then went down to the cel lar, and there found the two poor brothers dead, one lying here, the other there. What was to be done? She sent for a strong Auvergnat, brought him down stairs, showed him one corpse, which she had previously taken out of the cellar, and promised him a Louis d'or on his return, after having thrown it into the Seine. He made no scruple about the matter, but popped the body into the sack, took it to the bridge, and shook it into the river. Re turning for his reward, the wife dis puted his claim, as the body was still lying outside the cellar door. Here the stupefied man saw what he firmly be lieved to be the corpse he had thrown from the bridge, and, resigning himself to destiny, he got it into his sack and went ihrough the ceremony the second time. Coming back, he was terrified and enraged by finding the twice drowned corpse knocking at his own door. " Are these your tricks, master ?" said he. " Ah, Monsieur Ghost! clever as you are, I'll settle you the third trial." So saying, he forced the poor hus band into the sack, carried him to the same spot and effected the third dis charge. This time he returned in tri umph, for the wife, ignorant of her hus band's fate, and having no more corpses to remove paid him twice what she had covenanted, and gave him a glass of wine into the bargain. "Your good health, madame," said he ; "you are better than your promise, but I earned it. I found the hump backed rogue or his ghost knocking at the door after I had thrown him in for the second time." "Oh, wretch !" cried the poor woman, "you have drowned my husband?" While she was screaming and he standing in amaze, the gend'armes en tered, secured both and sent them to pri son. Next day they were brought be fore a magistrate of the quarter and ex amined. The poor wife concealed no thing ; the Auvergnat was called on for an explanation; and while both were awaiting sentence of death the three brothers, in full life, but with very pale faces, were ushered into the room. Some fishermen stationed near the bridge had saved the three. The unmar ried men had only been dead drunk in the cellar, and the submersion, and the consequent pulling and hauling and ejectment of wine and water, had re covered them from their drunken leth argy before the natural time. On their first appearance before the magistrate, they could give no explanation of their visit to the river, and the husband had no idea of the cause of his being seized on ; but his wife's explanation made all clear. The king hearing of the strange ad venture' settled a pension on the un married men, but they were not to dwell within fifty miles of Paris, and the married man was not jealous for a year and a day after his seizure and es cape from the river. An Important Thought. When Daniel Webster was Secretary of State he wrote to one of the proprie tors of the Astor House, in New York, saying that he would reach that house on such a day, and begged that some of his friends should be invited to dine with him the same evening. Th9re were about twenty or so at the table, and Mr. Webster seemed wearied by his travel, and speaking but little, if at all, plunged into a darksome sort of reverie, not well calculated to enliven his friends. This at length became so apparent, and the situation of all so un pleasant, that one of the company urged upon a very distinguished man present —a warm friend of Webster—to get him into conversation. He needed to be jogged to become as lively as they wished. This friend consented andspoke aloud to Mr. Webster, asking him some ques tions that, in ordinary circumstances and with ordinary men, would have led to conversation, but failed in the present case. The dark Secretary of State merely answered simply, and crept into his cave again. Again the gentleman, frightened by his failure, was urged to renew the at tempt to draw him out. He summoned courage and said: "Mr. Webster (Mr. Webster looked up out of his cave), I want you to tell me what was the most important thought that ever occupied your mind." Here was a thumper for him, and so everybody thought at the table. Mr. Webster slowly passed his hand over his forehead, and. in a low tone said to a friend near him : "Is there any one here who does not know me?" "No, sir, they all know you—all are your friends." Then he looked over the table, and you may imagine how the tones of his voice would be on such an occasion, giving answer to such a question. "The most important thought that ever occupied my mind,') said he " was that of my individual responsibility to God!" Upon which for twenty minutes he spoke to them there; and when he had finished he got up from the table and retired to his room, and they, with out a word, went into an adjacent par lor, and when they had gathered there, some one exclaimed, "who ever heard of anything like that'?" What Mr. Webster said in advocacy of his sublime thought, I do not know. No one has ever repeated it, and I pre sume no one can. This vessel is rather a tough customer On Saturday last Mr. Underdown applied the match to the torpedoes placed under this vessel, when a Most terrific explosion took pla oe, ve throwing the water and fragments . 0 1. the asel to a great height in the air. Thia is the third attempt at reducing the wreck to a manageable alze, and on this occasion 1,100 pounds of powder were used.- It will require several more blasts to destroy this vessel, so famous in the naval history of the late Southern Confederacy. The Merrimac. piptilantinto. How Bibles are Node. Description of the Bible Hameln Astor From the New York bvening Gazette. The immense brick edifice known as the Bible House, at Astor place, in this city, stands by itself on an open square, bounded by Third and Fourth avenues, and Eighth and Ninth streets, contain ing about three-quarters of an acre, and having a circumference of over 700 feet. The building is six stories high, built of brick, with freestone copings, and from its magnitude, admirable proportions, chaste, neat, and appropriate finish, al ways commands attention. This vast establishment is devoted to the manu facture of one book—the Bible! For those who have the time to examine into the details of this extensive Bible manufactory, going over the house from top to bottom, it will be found it is one of the most interesting places to visit in this city. No longer ago than 1777, the Congress of the United States recommended that the Government take immediate steps to import 20,000 copies of the Bible from Holland, Scotland or elsewhere; for on the breaking out of the Revolutionary war, all British publications were kept out of the country, and a great scarcity began to be felt. In less than one hundred years, how vast the change. The Bible Society printed the past year, at its own expense, 1,119,259 volumes of Bibles, Testaments and Psalms. And instead of being obliged to send to Eng land for a supply, that country is now sending to New York for plates to print the Bible, which she cannot obtain within her own borders. It may also be said with truth that the whole world looks to New York for its supply of Bi bles, and the reader will be surprised to learn that this vast establishment, al though crowded to its utmost, is unable to meet the demand. Bibles are printed at this house in fifty different languages and dialects, at all prices, ranging from twenty-five cents up to as many dollars. Besides the vast number of English Bi bles which are printed, the principal lau guages are German, French, Spanish, Welsh, Irish, Chinese, Russian, Portu guese, Danish, Swedish, Italian, Arabic, Syriac, Hungarian, Bohemian, Polish, Greek, Latin, Hebrew, Dutch, Gaelic, Finnish, African, Sandwich Islands, Indian, Armenian, Arrawack, besides a Bible for the blind. This formidable list of languages gives but an imperfect idea of the vast num ber of different books and editions which are actually printed. Under the head of Indian languages, for example, there is the Cherokee, Choctaw, Ojib wa, Mohawk and Delaware, so that the total number:of different Bibles issued is 262. This Bible House is the great central organization for the printing and sup plying of Bibles, no less than four thousand other organizations, in this country alone, looking to it as the head. As may be surmised, it is one vast hive of industry, some four hundred people being at the present time employed to keep the establishment in full working order. The working force in the Bible House is divided into two departments, the executive and the manufacturing. In the first of these, fifteen persons are employed; in the last of them, comprising aIL the departments of the engineer, depository, and those of print ing, electrotyping, .proof-reading and binding, there are three hundred and sixty-eight, making a total of three hundred and eighty-three. All this for the manufacture of Bibles. It may be interesting to know that with this force the house is able to turn out about thirty five hundred each day. Going into the engine-room, we find the engine to be a forty-horse power steam engine, then there is a five horse power square engine, and a donkey en gine. There are five cylinder boilers, forty feet long and three feet in diame ter, and it takes five tons of coal per day to feed them. There are thirty miles of steam pipe in the house. The call for Bibles is so great that the establishment has had to add two new Adams' celebrated platform power presses, and now the press-room con tains twenty of these mammoth con trivances in continual operation. Thus the Society is able to pint between four and five thousand copies of the Scrip tures during every working day in the year. The great demand for Bibles at the present time is in the South. In the printing department there are sixty-five men and girls employed. The composing-room is large, and here type in all languages may te seen, with men at work upon Hebrew, Indian or Arabic. The great work which the Bible House is now engaged upon is the Arabic Scrip- tures. Some idea of the vast amount of labor employed upon it may be inferred when we learn thatthe type from which the book is to be printed had to be manu factured in this house. No type-founder in New York or the United States would undertake so costly and delicate a job as the casting of a font of Arabic type. In all Europe it could not be obtained, and when the American Bible Society has finished a set of electrotype plates of the Asiatic Scriptures, the British Bible Society will purchase a set, and one will be sent,to Syria. One hundred and twenty millions of human beings speak and read this language. For over a year and a half the work upon this Bible has been in progress, and it is confidently expected that by next July it will be completed—a splend id triumph of American genius, benevolence, skill and industry. The estimated cost of four sets of plates for the whole Arabic Bible is not less than $45,000. The work of translation was begun in 1847 and was not finished until August, 1864. Then all the steel punches, matrices, types and electro type plate had to be made at the Bible House, and the first plate was not ready to be electrotyped until March, 1865. Compositors had to be instructed in the art of setting up the type, which at best is a slow process, a good workman only being able to put up about forty lines a day. Some six compositors are at work upon the book. The manufacture of a font of this type is something fearful to con template. There are in the Arabic lan guage about thirty fundamental letters and sixteen accents, as they are called. These, with their combinations and va riations, produce something like eleven thousandi different characters. One let ter, in the various relations which it sustains, will undergo fifty different transformations in shape and size, so that the last has little, if any, resemb lance to the primary form. For all these steel punches had to be made, and corresponding matrices. It would be impossible, in any ordinary newspaper article, to give the reader a good idea of the immense difficulties met and overcome in the printing of this Bible. Suffice it to say there is not another font of type in the world like it, and when the printed page is pre sented to the Arab, it bears so close a resemblance to his manuscript Koran that it seems as if it was done by hand, with a pen instead of movable types. In the binding department there are 92 males and 198 females employed. The rooms are of immense size, some of them being nearly 200 feet long. It is an interesting sight to see scores of girls seated at long tables, folding the sheets from which the books are to be made; to watch the process of stitching the back, at what seem to be scores of little hand-looms—in short, to follow the whole process of Bible making, from the casting of the type to the depository, where cords of them are stowed away. In the meanwhile, the gilding is put on the edge of the leaves; some thirty dollars worth of gold is used each day ! Where the covers are being manufac tured, two embossing machines" are kept in constantoperatioh. There is in-the de pository at the presenttime a stock' of about 125,000 volumes. In one stack there are 15,000 Testaments; it is at least - . eight feet square by fifteen in height. But for all there is sudh an immense numberof books oh' hand they will last only a short time, for the executive department is sending off fr0m75,000 to 125,000 books each month. Last Decem ber some 73,000 copies were sent away. 4iteetan Dress. The Greeks had a great variety of aan dila, shoes and toots; but to go barefoot never offended the usages of society, except on festive or state occasions; and any one who remembers with what de light he felt the first touch of the.soll in spring or early sumther, when the time came for throwing off his shoes and stockings, will agree with me in think ing that the Hellenic usage in this re spect was more natural and agreeable than our own. Of all the enjoyments of childhood and youth in the country In former times, that of the soft fresh feeling of the genial earth, pressed by the unshod sole of the foot, is undoubt edly one of the most delicious—a pleas ure, I fear, now fast vanishing from the face of our planet. Though the Greeks had various coverings for the head, it was also perfectly in accordance with the customs of polite society to go bare headed. * * * * * * There was one striking difference be tween the dresses of most of the other known nations of the ancient world and those of the Greeks and Romans. Trousers, or pantaloons, were worn, by the Oriental nations—Medea, Persians, Assyrian, Perthians—and by the prin cipal western nations of Europe known to the ancients, especially -the Dacians and Gauls. * * * * 4 4 The Greeks never *ore them at all; nor did the Romans until the time of the Emperors, who attempted to intro duce breeches among their subjects as a means of making them forget their ancient liberties. The Greek style of dress was not, however, precisely the same as the Romans, though there was a general resemblance. The himation and toga of the Romans were different in shape, and differently worn, though as an outer garment they answered the same purpose. The materials used by the Greeks were furnished partly by domestic manufacture, and partly com mercial exchange. They were fabrics of woolen, eotton, linen, and in the later times, silk. The woolen was fre quently spun and woven by the women of the household, though there were also large establishments where this as well as the other issues were manufac tured to supply the market. The Doriads differed somewhat from the other Greeks in their notions of propriety. At Sparta, the women appeared in the pub lic games and dances in a style of undress or half-dress, which shocked the refine ment of Athenian society. At Athens a much more becoming style prevailed, exceptperhaps among the articles who dance for hire at the private and public entertainments, at which, be it remem bered, modest women were never pres ent. The essential parts of the Grecian dress remained with some changes in form, fashion and make, nearly the same from Homor down to the latest times. * * * * * * The articles of a Grecian wardrobe may be classed under two heads—first, those drawn on, or got In to ; and second, thrown over the person; the former called by the general term evelyrnato, and the latter epiblemata. The prin cipal garment of the first-class was the ehiton, which was worn next the body, like a flannel underwaistcoat. In early times It was large and long, reaching to the feet, but later it was of varying length, extending sometimes to the knees and sometimes to the feet. Some times it was made with two sleeves, closed, either. by needle or by clasps or hooks placed at intervals down the arm, but frequently there was only one sleeve, or arm-hole, the garment being secured by a broach or pin over the other shoul der, and in some of the works of art it is fastened by broaches over both shoul ders. The one-sleeved kind was called the exomis, and was less elaborately made, being worn by laboring people. Whether any garment was at any time worn under this among the Greeks is doubtful. The principal outer garment of the class of epiblemata was the him ation. This was a square piece of cloth, of a more or less costly fabric, accord ing to the circumstances of the wearer. It was thrown over the left shoulder, drawn across the back to the right side, generally below the right arm, but sometimes over it, and again over the right shoulder or arm. * * * * * * * The dress of the women consisted of the same principal elements, but greatly diversified in form and in the manner of wearing. A belt or zone was clasped about the waist, and sometimes a second confined the dress below. They had, too, a number of additional con trivances, and one or two garments seldom worn by the other sex. Julius Peloux de scribes first the ezomis or diploidion— an outer garment with sleeves, falling down to the feet, and often made so long as to fold over at the top, and bang down over the breast and back. Some times the garment was so nearly the same for both sexes that husband and wife could wear it with equal conveni ence. Zanthippe is said to havesteadily refused to wear her husband's. The most distinguished article of female ap parel was called the crotoeos, a saffron colored under-garment, and even this on state occasions was worn by the men. .Peplos is a general term for almost any kind of garment or cloak. Capes and tippets formed a part of the lady's ward robe ; and various garments, purple or embroidered with gold, floated about her person as she walked. The Athenian women appear not only to have resorted to cosmetics, as we saw in the sketch of the wife of Is chomachus, but they had many inge nious contrivances for the improvement of the figure. Corsets and tight-lacing were frequently employed. If a damsel was too short, she had cork putinto the soles of her shoes ; if too tall, she wore thin soles, and dropped her head on her shoulder. If her figure was too thin, the defect was removed by pad ding; so that, says Alexis, the comic poet; the beholders would cry out at the beauty of her form. Red eyebrows, ac cording to the same authority, were blackened ; a dark complexion was whitened; one too pale was rouged; and any peculiar beauty of the person was carefully displayed. She who had white teeth must needs laugh, that the passer-by might see what a handsome mouth she had, and so on. But Ido not think it would be fair to disclose any more secrets of the toilette ; though, as these ladies, if living now, would he twenty-three or twenty-four centuries old; perhaps no great harm would be done to their prospects. It is a mistake to suppose that these dresses were always simple, and of a single color. The women naturally dressed, as a general rule, in gayer tints than the men; but white, yellow, purple, gray, brown, olive, green, azure and changeable were worn by both sexes • only it was considered essential to good taste to avoid very staring colors. The under garment, in times of mourn ing, was sometimes black. On great occasions, such as festivals and religious processions, a richer splendor of dress was, of course, exhibited than in daily life; and there was some kinds of gar ments, as the zystis, or purple robe, never worn except on these occasions. -The white mantle was the dress for many festival occasions, long after the dyer's art had given a variety of colors to theordinary costume. It is, of course, understood that slaves and laborers in the country wore dresses differalt-from those which have been described, and such as were convenient for their sev eral occupations. Generally speaking, the head and feet were covered only out of doors. The common term for the dress of the foot was hypodema, meaning something bound under; but there was a great variety in form and fashion, from the simple sandal up to the high boots. The sandal was secured to the sole of the foot by a leather thong passing be tween the great and the second toe, and attached to another across the_ instep, !Ltiain connecting with a strap that E7round the back of the heel. i4;(3 straps were sometimes so multi plied, and so closely crossed each other, that they had nearly covered the -foot. The half abbe covered the fore part of the foot. Gradually the whole foot was covered by the upper leather, and orna mented with bows and buckles. NUMBER 16 • Persian shoes of red inoroooo were fashionable at Athena in the time of Aristoph tines ; and Lacedremonianshoes were considered in good taste. BOoh!, open and laced in front, were worn chiefly in hunting. A species of seek or stocking made of felt appears to have been sometimes worn. The soles of the shoes, when thick and high, had the middle layer of cork, and sometimes men's shoes were studded with nails, though this Was considered a mark of rusticity. A good fit was thougnt as important in the Athenian circles as it is now. Even Socrates put on au ele gant pair of shoes when he went to the famous supper at Agathon's house. Many colors were admissible—white, red, brown and black. Gloves were not used, except in certain kinds of work. The wedding dress of a gentleman consisted of a chitort of Milesian wool, a white hiounioahalf shoes, with crimson thongs and clasps of gold, and chaplet of myrtle branches and violets. The bride wore embroidered sandals, adorn ed with emeralds, rubles and pearb3, with white throngs a necklace of gold richly set with precious stones, armlets and pearl eardrops; her hair, fragrant with the richest perfumes of the East, was restrained by a fillet or coronet and a chaplet of flowers; and her fingers ungloved, were resplendent with jewels and rings. Over her simple but mag nificent costume, brolliant in colors and costly in ornaments, floated the silvery tissue of the nuptial veil, like a cloud.— Fellon's Lecture on Greece. The "Sleepy Disease of Africa." Having procured a guide, we crossed the river, and at the mouth of Logan's Creek, exchanged our boat for a large canoe, in which we followed the wind ings of the deep and narrow inlet for nearly two miles. This brought us to a village of six huts. Without cere mony, we entered the dwelling of the old Queen, (who was busied about her household affairs) and looked around for her grand-.daughter—to see whom was the principal object of the excur sion. On my former visit to Maumee's town, four or five months ago, she ex cited a great deal of admiration by her beauty and charming simplicity. She n was then thirteen or fouxtp years of age—a bright mulatto, with large soft black eyes, and the most brilliantly white teeth in the world. Her agure, though small, is perfectly symmetrical. She is the darling of the old Queen, whose affections exhaust themselves upon her with all the fire of her tem perament—and the more unreservedly, because the girl's own mother is dead. We entered the hut, as I have said, without ceremony, and looked about us for the beautiful grand daughter; but on beholding the object of our search, a kind of remorse or dread came over us, such as often affects those who intrude upon the awfulness of slumber. The girl lay asleep in the adjoining apart ment, on a mat that was spread on the hard ground, and with no pillow below her cheek. One arm was by her side, and the other above her head, and she slept so quietly, and drew such imper ceptible breath, that I scarcely thought her alive. Witb some little difficulty she was roused, and awoke with a fright ful cry—a strange and unbroken murmur --as if she were looking dimly out of her sleep, and knew not wheth• er our figures were real, or only the fantasies of a dream. Her eyes were wild and glassy, and she seemed to be in pain. While awake, there was a nervous twitching about her mouth and in her fingers ; but being extended on the mat, and left to herself, these symp toms of disquietude passed away, and she almost immediately sunk again into the deep and heavy sleep in which we first found her. As her eyes gradually closed their lids, the sunbeams, strug gling through the small crevices be tween the reeds of the hut, glimmered down upon her head. Perhaps it waaonly the nervous motion of her fingers, but it seemed as if she was trying to catch the golden rays of the sun, and make playthings of them—or else to draw them into her soul, and illuminate the slumber that looked so dark to us. This poor, doomed girl, had been suf fering—no, not suffering, for except when forcibly aroused, there appears to be no uneasiness—but she had been lingering two months in a disease pe culiar to Africa. It is called the "sleepy disease," and is considered incurable. The persons attacked by it are those who take little exercise, and live principally on vegetables, particularly cassady and rice. Some ascribe it altogether to the cassady, which is supposed to be strong ly narcotic. Not improbably the cli mate has much influence, the disease becoming more prevalent in low and marshy situations. Irresistible drowsi ness continually weighs down the pa tient, who can be kept awake only for a few moments needful to take a little food. When this lethargy has lasted three or four months, death comes with a tread the patient cannot hear, and makes the slumber but a little more sound. I found the aspect of Maumee's beauti ful granddaughter inconceivably affect ing. It was strange to behold her so quietly involved in sleep, from which it might be supposed she would awake so full of youthful life, and yet to know that this was no refreshing slumber, but a spell in which she was fading away from the eyes that loved her. What ever might chance,'be it grief or joy, the effect would be the same. Whoever should shake her by the arm—whether accents of a friend fell feebly on her ear, or those of a stranger like ourselves— the only response would be that troubled cry, as a spirit that hovered on the con fines of both worlds, but could sympa thize with neither. And yet, withal, it seemed so easy to cry to her—" Awake ! Enjoy life! Cast off this noontide slumber!" But only the peal of the last trumpet will summon her out of this mysterious sleep.—Journal of an African Cruiser. Tan Bark for Potatoes. This subject is brought before the farmers of England, by a communica tion in the Mark Lane Express. M. R. B. Bamford claims thirty-five years' practice and experience in this matter; and has issued a pamphlet giving his method of using it, which is in brief the following: He does not cut his potatoes for setting, but sets them whole, and the largest he can select. The rows are thirty inches apart, and the potatoes are put nine inches from each other in the row. The land is plowed only eight inches deep, treads the manure firmly in the furrows, puts in the tubers, and covers them in with tan refuse, nine inches deep, instead of earthing up. In this way he reports that in 1857 he raised 675 bushels of potatoes—not a rotten one among them—to the acre, with nothing but waste tan as a cover ing. This is of great importance, the tan refuse being of little or no value, and if it can be put to so important and advantageous a use as in this case, it should be widely known and practised. About Seed Corn. The American Agriculturist says : The selection of seed corn is one of the most important things which a farmer does at this season. Coarse cobs accompany late maturity, as a rule; fine cobs, well tipped ent,. indicate perfect maturity, adaptation to the season and soil, and a fixedness of character which it is im portant to maintain. The curing of corn takes place to a great extent after the husking, and the presence of agreat, soft, moist cob in each ear gives a ten dency to mold, which should be sedu lously avoided. One may easily judge by the eye which ears have thesmallest cobs—those which are best tipped out, which have the kernels in the closest rows, and all the rows running un broken from end to end. These ears ' will not be found among the biggest round, nor among the longest,' usually. - but among those of medium size. A friend used to say, as he showed off his seed oora, "every ear as regular and solid as a white oak pin." And so they Were, aenearlY as corn ears could be, firm, close, hard and solid. The President is reported to be using his influence to induce the South to' reorganize under the Reconstruction act. swami r — Tt - fln • "*•- imp ortenlitkeet $6 pay • r" At t ruchae m nom- l_oents-iLlake par__ 11tatv ital44.4aW4 r r triW4.4 lll Willl,lltrr la Etriagel. column. owlet elle& ania" daatte,la m 2 .l. Ueen and seats t Matto& BIIIIIMIN UAW* of= or Um, One year Malmo filreliltlMar LW" elm Yeare..lo• 1 •••• few*, a Laser. AND OTHIAINCI7 EXlSOUtOre*"*"' Mindn l4l46ll. 1 200 11811 0. , ......P**A M Mada.m see, s.OO Auditors' Other . .!'Notleae,"tee./Wool U N , three imes, .—... LSO' News Items. Travel on the Opelousas Railroad in Lou isiana is suspended by the floods. President Moegnera, of New Grenada, and his Congress have become reconciled. Bight Rev. Dr. Timon, Catholio Bishop or Onfielo, him died or erysipelas. Jam Oen, of Tenn., is alive and well, living in BteWeit county, Tenn. The Are department of Chicago employs 140 men and has 4400,000 worth of property. There is to be a baby show at the Pails Exposition. The Milwaukee mills turn out from 3,000 to 4,000 barrels of dour daily. Goings , F. Train wan admitted to the bar of Cincinnati on Tuesday. The grape crop in Ohio proration ma im mense yield. The city councils of Boston have appro prlaMd $lOO,OOO for a new lunatic:asylum. The aggregate production of the 01l wells at Pithole is now 921 barrels per day. Arclitdahop Spalding, of Baltimore, is so dangerously ut that his recovery is doubted. There is tench euffering in Western Loui siana on account .of the floods. Seventy-dve ,barcale of whlaky were seized at Norfolk, 'Ye., go Tuesday, for vio lation of the revellµe. Five thousand dnllars',wq i of smuggled liquors and spices were eeAzei near Port land, Me., on Monday night. The receipts of cotton at Norfolk, Yirginia, during the present season have arrunirded to 120,000 bales. The Iron-mouldera of Cincinnati are on strike, and four hundred of.them are with out employment. A convention of representatives of the Southern newspapers la in session at Atlanta, Ga. The Prohibitory law is rigidly enforced in Maine. A grocer, in Augusta, was tined for selling a glass of cider. Embonpoint is the fashion in Parts new. and some of the most stylish ladles secure It by wearing false India rubber stomachs. Twenty-five thousand persons from other States and countries visited Florida last winter. An association has been formed for the introduction of silk culture into Nevada upon an extensive scale. Oliver Hoyt, of New York, has given $lO,- 000 to the lowa Wesleyan University, as part of his centenary gift. The Michigan constitutional convention will contain seventy-five republicans and twenty-five democratic members. Annie Dtirham, a seamstressin St. Louis, cut her throat last week because she " could not earn an honest living." The new name for the present style of fashionable bonnet—" next to nothing"— (nooks to nothing.) A B.aDying Cry for Beecher and Phillips —Equals rights and manhood suffrage for the Esquimaux. The municipal election in Chicago took place yesterday. The Republicans were successful by about 3,700 majority. Governor Geary has appointed Richard Perry to be Inspector of Flour for Western Pennsylvania. The First National Bank of Selma, Ala bama, a Government depository, was rob bed on Monday night of $lBO,OOO. On the Fourth of July next the "bird of freedom" will scream from the Gulf of Mexico clear up to the North Pole. Several colored men of Columbia, S. C., have purchased the South Carolinian news paper, and propose conducting it as a con servative negro organ. A full vote of Maryland is In favor of the State Constitutional Convention by ten thousand majority. It will convene on the Bth of May at Annapolis. A Havana despatch Bays that Maximilian has asked a suspension of hostilities, with a view to capitulation at Queretaro, and that Escobedo has referred the matter to Juarez. An eight-hour bill has passed both Houses of the New York Legislature, add only needs Governor Fenton's signature to be come a law.. A railroad train ran down an embank ment at McGregor, lowa, on Wednesday, killing one man and severely wounded several others. There is a flood in the Upper Missouri river and its tributaries, causing a saspen • slon of railroad travel. The Susquehanna and its tributarie t s are rising rapidly. There are every year in Russia 380 horse fairs held in 193 localities. The average number of those animals offered there for sale every year is calculated at 233,000. An order has just been received by the publishers, from California, for rive tapadred copies of " Partisan Life with Mosby," by Major John Scott, of Virginia. The nomination of A. L. Megaton, as In ternal Revenue Collector for the First Pennsylvania District, was yesterday re jected by the Senate. The Supreme Court has issued subpanuts, returnable in December, against Secretary Stanton and Generals Grant and Pope, under the Georgia bill. Gen. Rousseau has received hie commis sion as Brigadier General in the regular army. He will probably be given com mand in Texas. The town of Alliance, Ohio, was flooded by the bursting of a reservoir bolonging to the Pittsburg, Fort Wayne and Chicago Railroad, and two children are reported drowned. A rumor is current at Washington that England intends to seize the Philippine Islands as a reprisal from Spain in the matter of the seizure of the Tornado and Victoria. A French physician is curing his patients who are suffering from debility and reduced and enfeebled blood, by giving them the fresh warm blood of chickens, ducks end other fowl. Henry Ward Beecher has been nominated as one of the republican candidates for the New York Constitutional Convention, in Brooklyn. Horace Greeley has also been nominated. At the town election in Watervleit, New York, last week, the entire Democratic ticket was elected by about five hundred majority. Last fall the town gave one hun dred and three majority for Fenton, the Radical candidate for Governor. The Maine papers are greatly exercised over the fact that marble-playing has been introduced amongst the boys of that State. They demand that rigid prohibitory laws be passed against this demoralizing mode of gambling. The prospect for a large crop of peaches in Delaware is reported to be very flatter ing. The cold weather has had the effect of keeping the sap down and buds from ex pending, and should they not be injured by late frosts, the crop bidsfair to equal that of 1864. Nathaniel Goodrich and Charles Parsons, of Rocky Hill, are in the Hartford (Conn.) jail, charged with a series of barn burnings extending over aperiod of five years. It is estimated that they have destroyed over $50,000 worth of property. Virginia papers announce the death of G. Paul Scherer, of Staunton, a m,smbar of the Stonewall Brigade who served through the war, and who received one of the prizes conferred upon the five most gallant soldiers In that brigade. During the past ten years 12,000 new buildings were erected in Chicago—more than 11,000 of which were built of wood— dry pine. It is the hardest city in the Union to combat fires—and perhaps the remark holds good in some other respects. Miss Eller, of Hamilton county, Indiana, whose case has been alluded to, afterseveral days o f horrible suffering from hydrophobia, 'atiolly became more tranquil under the "bromide of potassium" treatment of her physicians, and is now reported to be con valescent. There is now very little fractional cur rency in circulation below the denomina tion of dimes, and, as the coinage of the new five-cent pieces goes on actively, they will soon be-entirely cancelled. Congress should authorize the coinage of dimes.-- Tills is a kind of currency contraction that would meet with no opposition; for no mat ter what opinion people may entertain re garding the curtailment of greenbacks, they unanimously indorse the aupercedure of the abominable fractional currency. While the Woman's Rights Convention was in session at Albany, a horse car was crowded. There entered a severe looking female. An old gent rose to give here seat, "Bo you one of those women-righters?" he asked. " I be," replied the ancient. " You believe a woman should have all the rights of a man do you?". he inquired. "Yes I do," was the emphatic answer. " Then," said the man "stand up and enjoy them like a man ;" and she had to stand up.. At Junction City, Ka the Bth hist., a man named W i ld Moors, While nested at the breakfast table with, hip wife and children, drew a revolver and Shot his Wife dead. An attempt was made by his neigh bors to arreet him, but idsthreataniag • de monstrations prevented about - , two hours after shooting 'his wilt. he obtained a pillow, laid his -will's head. nit"; laid down on the floor beg* heir shot himself through thelie , vrith ea 3 :4fir i e) ., volver, and died in a few ' had for sevatalyearetbreatettedlo %Ida terrible tragedy.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers