,s&* gramm* gnMligfwcv, Published st ” . \ iMi/i- U. G. SMJfTM & GO. , A. J. STEINMAH H. G. Smith • TERMS—Two. HoUajs per annum, payable In all cases In advance. TUB LANCASTER DAILT INTELLIGENCES IB published every evening, Sunday excepted, at ssper Annum In advance. COBWEB 07 CENTRE OFFICE—BOI SQUARE. fadnj. The Window Just Over the Street. BY ALICB CARY. I fill in my sorrow a-weary, alone; I have nothing sweet to hope or remember, For the Spring o' the’ year and of life has down; ’Tls the wildest night o’ the wild December, And darn in my spirit and dark in my chamber I sit and list to tbe steps In the street, Going and coming, and coming and going, And tne winds at my shutter they blow and beat; 'Tls tbe middle of night and the clouds are Knowing; And the winds are bitterly heatingand blowing 1 list to the stc ps as they come and go. : adU list to the winds that are beating aha blowing And my heai i sinliß down so low, so low ; bo step is -tayeo from me by the snowing, N'orsUyoJ by the wind so O.tterly blowing. I think of the ships that are out at sea, Oj th« wheels 111 the '-old, blqgk waters turn' log; Not on* of the ships bea'eMi news to me, And rav head ish'ck, und my hearllsyearn' iu \ ‘ As I think or the wheels lu tiie black waters turning. Of tho mother I think, by her sick baby’s bed, Away In tier eabin *•<> Jonenome and dreary. And little nmJ low us the flax-breaker'- shed ; t)i her patience so sweet, and her ailenoe so . weary, With cries of tie - hungry wolf hid In the prairie, I think of all things in the world that are sad; 'of children In homesick and comfortless places; Of prisons, oi dungeons, of men that are land; Gt wicked, unwomamy light In their faces Of women that fortune has wronged with dls • graces. 1 think of a dear little sun-lighted head, That came where no hand of us all could deliver; And ct'a/.ed with the crudest, pain went to bed Wnere mo sheets w-ro the foam-fretted waves oi tlie river; Poor duaitog! may Gcil lu his mercy forgive her Tho footsteps grow fulntnnd more faint In the snow; I put. b *ctt the curium iu very despairing; The luasU ereuk and yi\ uu as th’ windß come and go; And i iu* light lu the light house nil weirdly Is Haring ; Hut wbßt glory Is Mils, in I he giooui of despalr- I see at. the window just over r he si i pet, A maid in it.e lamp-light her love-letter reading. Her i i d inoulu is *in t liny, her news W so aweef; And the Heart, in my Oohiiiii is cured of lls bleeding, As I look on ih • ni'jfdon r love-let t< r rending She iius iiuisheji the intlm', and Joining* It, UlhhfS, A nil hides It—a secret, to sacred to know ; And now in the heftrt!i-ll;.'ht she softly un . dresses; A vision iifgi ace in i lie r...seale glow, 1 see her unbinding the braids oi her tresses. And now us nhe stoops to tl.e i ibbon that fas tens Her slipper, Ll ey tumble o'er shoulder and face; And now, us she putteis iu bc.ro foot, she has tens To gat her t hem up in a fi lift of lace ; And now she is goon, hut In fancy I trace. Til 1 ' 1 aven dered linen npdruwu, the round arm Half sunk in toe couhterpauc’s broldered ruses, Reveal ng me tiquislie on Hi no of form; A willowy wilder of grace that reposes Heneath liiu white couutorpune, fleecy with roses. J see the S’tuili linml lying over the heart, Where the p-isvloualo dro 'ins are so awuet In ' iheirtully; The fair li tt le lingers they t remble and part. Aspirl to tho warm wsves the. leavi-s of tho my. And thk-v play with he/ han-1 like the wa es with ihe Illy.* In while tl.-ecy II wers, file queen o' the (low ers ! her s I' e world with Its had, bitter WcaUici Wile sip- opens hi r :u ins—ah, her world is not mu --! And now sou has closed them and clasped th- m tcgi:t.li»*r - What to her I-. onr rrnrlfj, wit h Its clouds ahd rough went inu Hark ! midmgh:! Hut v/iods liud the snows hlu\v an I lien t ; I !.iop d-iwii the eu' irtln au-1 say to my sor row, j hunk God fir tin - window just over Mi astro* t; Tn ink G--d I hue is u'ways a whence to borrow When d ukne-iH is darkest, uml Sorrow,most f-'orrow. Uliscdlnnmtss. “ Bedlam let loose.! Pandemonium in rebellion ! Cluiua turned inside out*, what is the reason a man cannot heal lowed to sleep in the morning without this everlasting racket raised above his ears? Children crying—doors slam miug—l will know the reason of all this uproar!” Mr. Luke Darcy shut the door of his bed-room with considerable emphasis, and went straight to the breakfast par lor. All was bright ami quiet and pleasant there ; the coal snapping aud sparkling in the gran*, the china and silver neat ly arranged on the spotless damask cloth, and the green parrot drowsily winked his yellow eyes in the sunny glow of the'eastern window—Bedlam plainly wasu’t located just there, and i\lr. Darcy went stunningly up stairs to the nursery. Ah ! the Held of battle was reached at last. Mrs. Durey sat in her little low chair before tlie lire, trying toquietthe screams of an eight months old baby scion of the house of Darcy, while an other—a rosy boy of live years—lay on his back, prone on the floor, kicking aud crying in an ungovernable fit of child ish passion. “Mrs. Dar—cy! 1 ’ enuuciated Luke, with a slow and ominous precision, “may I enquire what all this means? Are you aware tlmt it is fifteen minutes past nine o’clock ? Do you know that breakfast is waiting?” “I kuow, Luke—l know,” said poor perplexed Mrs. Darcy, striving vainlyi to lift the rebellious urchin up by ODe arm, “Come, Freddy, you are goiDg to be good now, mamma is sure, and get up and be washed.” “No—o—o!” roared Master Freddy, performing a brisk tattoo on the carpet with his heels, and clawing the air fu riously. Like an avenging vulture, Mr. Darcy pounced'abrupliv down on his son and heir, carried him promptly to the closet, aud turned the key upon his screams. “ Now, sir, you can cry it out at your leisure. Kvolyn, nurse is waiting for the baby. Wp’il godown to breakfast.” “But, Luke,” hesitated Mrs. Darcyq “you won’t leave Freddy there?” “ Won’t, I’d like to kuow why not? It’s temper, aud nothing else, that is at the bottom of all of these demonstra tions, ami I'll conquer that temper or I'll kuow the reason why. It ought to have beeu checked long ago, but you are so ridiculously’ imlulgeut. There is noliiing I have so little tolerance for as a bad temper—nothiug that ought to be so promptly anil severely dealt with.” “ But if he’ll say he’s sorry Luke?” Mr. Darcy rapped sharply’ at the panels of the door: “ Are you sorry for your naughtiness, young mini ? ” A fresh outburst of screams aud a re newal of the tattoo was the answer. “ I am sure he is sorry, Luke,” plead ed the all extenuating mother, but Mr. Darcy shook his head. “ Entire submission is the only thing I will listen to,” he said shortly. “ I tell you, Evelyn, I am determined to uproot this temptr.” * Evelyn, with a dewy moisture shad owing her eyelashes, aud a dull ache at her heart, followed her liege lord down to the breakfast table, with as little ap petite for tbe coffee, toast and eggs as might he. A tall, blue eyed young lady, with a profusion of bright chestnut hair, and cheeks like rose velvet, was already at the table wheu they descended, byname Clara Pruyn, by iiueage Mrs. Darcy’s sister. She opened her eyes rather wide as the two entered. “ Good gracious, F.vy, what’s the matter?” “Nothing,” answered Luke, tartly. “ Mrs. Darcy, you appear to forget that I have eaten no breakfast.” “Something is the matter, though.” said Clara, shrewdly. “What is it Evelyn? Has Luke had one of his tant rums ?” Luke set down his coffee cup with a sharp “click.” “You use very peculiar expressions, Miss Pruyn.” “ Very true oues,” said Clare, saucily. Evelyn smiled In spite of herself. “ It’s only Freddy, who feels a little cross, and ” “A little cross!” interrupted the in dignant husband. “ I tell you, Evelyn, it’s quite time that temper was checked. Oh, that parrot! what an intolerable screeching he keeps up! Mary take that bird into tbe kitchen, or I shall be -tempted to wring its neck. Strange that a man can’t have a little peace once in a while! What does ail the eggs, Evelyn? I thought I had asked you to see that they were boiled fit for a Christian to eat. Mr. Darcy gave hiß egg, shell and all, a vindictive throw upon the grate* ®}C Lancaster Sntdluu'iuTr. VOLUME 70 Evelyn’s brown eyes sparkled danger ously as she observed the manoeuvre, but she made l no remark. “And the plates are as cold as a stone, when I’ve implored again and again, that they might be warmed. Well, I shall eat no breakfast this morning.” “ Whom will you punißh most?” de manded Miss Clara. “Evelyn, give me another cup of coffee; its perfectly delightful.” Luke pushed his chair back with a vpngance, and took up his stand with his back to the fire, both hands under his coat tails. “ Please air,” said the servant, depre catingly advancing, “ the gas bill—the' man says would you settle it while —” “ No” roared Luke tempestuously. “Tell the man to go about his busi ness ; I’ll have no small bills this morn ing, and I won’t be so persecuted !” Mary retreated precipitately. Clara raised her long brown eyelashes. “ Do you know, Luke,” sbe said de murely, “I think you would feel a great deal better if you would do just as Freddy does—lie flat down on the floor and kick your heels against the carpet for awbile. It’s an excellent es ! cape'valve when your choler gets the better of you.” Luke gave his mischievous sister-in law, a glance that ought certainly to have annihilated her, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a bang that would bear no interpretation. Then Clara came round to her sister and buried her pink face in Evelyn’s neck. “Don’tscold me, Evy, please —I know I’ve been very naughty to tease Luke ao! ” “ You have spoken nothing but tbe truth,” said Evelyn, quietly, with her coral lips compressed, and a scarlet spot burning on either cheek. “Clara, I sometimes wonder how I can endure the daily cross of my hualmnd’s tem per.” “ Temper! ” said Clara, with a toss of her chestnut brown hair. “And the ; 'poor dear fellow hasn't the least idea ; how disagreeable he makes himself.” “Only this morning,” said Evelyn, “ he puuished Freddy with unrelenting severity for a lit of ill-humor which he himself has duplicated within the last half hour. I am not a moralist, but it strikes me that the fault is rather more to be censured in a full grown reason ing man than in a child.” “Evelyn, said Clara gravely, “do you suppose he is beyond the power of cure?” “Ihopenot; but whatcan Ido? fthut him up as he shut little Freddy ?” Evelyn’s merry, irresistible laugh was checked by the arch, peculiar expres sion in Clara's blue eyes. “The remedy needs to be something short and sharp,” said Clara, “and the dark closet system certainly combines both requisites. Tears and hysterics were played out long ago in matrimo nial skirmishes, you kuow, Evy. “Nonsense!” laughed Mrs. Darcy, rjsing from tbe breakfast table in obe dience to her husband’s peremptory summons from abovestairs, while Clara shrugged her shoulders and went to look for her work-basket. Luke was standing in front of his bureau drawer, flinging shirts, collars, cravats and stockings recklessly, upon the bed-room floor. “I’d like to kuow where my silk handkerchiefs are, Mrs. Darcy!” he fumed, “such a state as my bureau is in is enough to drive a man crazy !” “ rt’s enough to drive a woman crazy, T think!” said Evelyn, hopelessly, stooping to pick up a few of the scat tered articles. “ You were at the bureau last, Luke. It is your own fault!” “My fault —of course it’s my fault!” snaried Luke, giving Mrs. Darcy’s poodle a kick tbatsent it howling to its mistress. “Anything but a woman’s retorting, recriminating tougue. Mrs. Darcy, I wont endureitauy longer!” “ Neither will I!” said Evelyn, reso lutely advancing, as her husbaud plunged into tbe closet for his business coat, and promptly shutting and lock iug the door. “ I think I’ve endured it long enough—and here is an end of it!” “ Mrs. Darcy ! open the door!” said Luke, scarcely able to credit tho evi dence of his own senses. “ I shall do no such thing,” said Mrs. Darcy, composedly beginning to rear range shirts,Btockingandflaunel wrap pers iu their appropriate receptacles. “Mrs. Dar—oy!” roared Luke, at a fever heat oflrapotent rage, “what on earth do you meau?” “ I mean to keep you iu that clothes press, Mr. Darcy, until you have made up your mind to come out in a more amiable frame of mind. If the system succeeds with Freddy, it certainly ought to with you ; and I am sure your temper is much more intolerable than his.” There was a dead silence of full six ty seconds in the closet, then a sudden burst of vocal wrath. “Mrs. Darcy, open the door tiffs in stant, madam !” But Evelyn went on humming a saucy little opera air, and arranging her clothes. “ Do you hear me?” “ Yes—l hearyou.” “Will you obey me?” “ Not until you have solemnly prom ised me to put some sort of control od that temper of yours; not until you pledge yourself hereafter to treat your wife as a lady should be treated ; not as a menial.” “ I won’t!” “ No? Then in that case I hope you don’t find the atmosphere at all oppres sive there, as I think it probable you will remain there some time!” Another sixty-seconds of dead silence, then asudden rain of heels and hands against the relentless wooden panels. “ Let me out, I say, Mrs. Darcy ! mad am, how dare you perpetrate this mon strous piece of audacity ?” “ My dear Luke, how strongly you do remind me of Freddy ! You see there is nothing I have so little tolerance for as a bad temper. It ought to have been checked long ago, only you know I’m so ridiculously indulgent.” Mr. Darcy winced a little at the fa miliar sound of bis own words. Tap-tap-tap came softly to the door. Mrs. Darcy composodly opened it aud saw her husband’s little office boy. “ Please, mam, there’s some gentle men at the office in a great hurry to see Mr. Darcy. It’s about the Applegate will case! ” Mrs. Darcy hesitated au instant; there was a triumphant rustle in the closet, aud her determination was taken. “ Tell the gentleman that your master has a bad he idacho, aud won’t be down town this morning.” Luke gnashed his teeth audibly, as soon as the closing of the door admon ished him that be might_jlo so with safety. “Mrs. Darcy, do you presume to in terfere with the transaction of business that is vitally important, ma’am, vitally important ? ” Mrs. Darcy nonchalantly took up the little opera air where she had left it, letting the soft Italian words ripple musically off’her tongue. “ Evelyn, dear! ” “ What is it, Luke?” she asked mildly. “Please let me out. My dear, this may be a joke to you, but—” “ I assure you, Luke, it’s nothing of the kind; it’s the soberest of serious matters to me. It is a question as to whether my future life shall be misera ble or happy.” There was a third interval of silence. “Evelyn,” said Luke, presently, in a subdued voice, “will you open the door?” “ On one condition only.” “ And what m that?” " Ah! ah?” thought the little lieuten ant general, “he’s beginning to enter tain terms of capitulation, is be? On conditions,” she added aloud, “that you will break yourself of the habit of speaking crossly and sharply to me. and on all occasions keep your temper.” “My temper, indeed!” sputtered Luke. “Just your temper.” returned lffg wife, serenely. “Will you promise?” “Never, madam.” Mrs. Darcy quietly took up a pair of hose that required mending, and pre pared to leave the apartment. As the door creaked on Its hinges, however, a voice came shrilly through the opposite keyhole. “Mrs. Darcy, Evelyn! w'ife! wife!” “Yes.” “You are not going down stairs to leave me in this place?” “I am.” “Well, look here —I promise.”. “All and everything that I require ?” “Yes, all and everything that you re quire—confound It all!” Wisely deaf to themuttered sequel? Mrs. Darcy opened the door, and Luke stalked sullenly out, looking right over the top of her shiniDg brown hair. Suddenly a little detaining hand was laid on his coat sleeve. “Luke, dear?” “Well?” “ Won't you give me a kiss?” And Mrs. Darcy burst out crying on her husband’s shoulder. “Well!” ejaculated the puzzled Luke, “ if you aren't the greatest enigma go ing. A kiss? Yes, a half dozen of'em if you want, you kind-hearted little turnkey. Do not cry,pet, I'm not angry with you, although I suppose I ought to be.” “And may I let Freddy out?” “Yes, on the same terms that his papa was released. Evelyn, was I very intolerable ?” “If you hand’t been, Luke, I never should have ventured on such a violent remedy.” “Did I make you very unhappy?” “ Very.” And the gush of warm sparkling tears supplied a dictionary full of words. Luke Darcy buitoned up his overcoat, put on his hat, shouldered his umbrella, and went to the Applegate will case, musing as he went upon the Dew state of affairs that had presented itself for Ins consideration. “ By Jove,” he ejaculated, “ that lit tle wife of mine is a bold woman and a plucky one!” And thus he burst out laughing on the steps. It is morethan probable that he left his stock of bad temper in the law buildings that day, for Evelyn andC.ara never saw any more of it; and Freddy is daily getting the best of the peppery element in his infantile disposition. Men, after all, are but children of a larger growth j-aud so Mrs. Evelyn Darcy had reasoned. A Ghost Story U\ HAKIUIiT i’KESCOTT nI’OKFOJII'. “You may disbelieve in ghosts to your heart’s couteut,” said the doctor, as we all sat round the blaziug fire one night just before separating for bed; “you’ve never seen one. For my part, I’ve been more fortunate —and I believe in them. “When I was a lecturer in the Ana tomical course of the School, years ago, I was in the habit of frequently giving my lectures at the dissecting-table with the class around me there. “At the same time I was in full prac tice, aud I had one case in particular that was as enthralling to meas a novel is to you, Mias Jeasica. This case, of which I just spoke, had baffled the skill of every physician of note in the coun try. I was the last physician employed upon it; and being in love with the young lady, I struggled against its pro gress like a madman. There were re corded in all our medical chronicles but four cases of this type; —two had oc curred nearly a hundred years ago, and had been but poorly diagnosed then ; the third was a twin sister of my pa- had not died of itsimply be causei n an early stageofthediseasesbe had been drowned at sea with her two brothers on her way to procure foreign advice. I saw that there was no help in science or sympathy for my patient; and as day by day passed and she stead ily declined, and my love did nothing but increase for her unfailing sweetness and her beauty, that blazed only brighter with the disease, it used to seem to me as if my braiD would burst with despair and desire and suspense. I will not at tempt to tell you how beautiful she was, even in her illness and incipient decay her features, moulded likesome antique' statues, were alabastrine, the flame of her spirit burned behind them till they were fairly luminous; her great dark eyes glowed—with the hidden fever perhaps—but still like stars, and a faint rosy tlamewentand cameon her cheeks, that many a time I longed to deepen with my lips, but never dared —for had I told her of my passion I should have been of little good as a physician ; and, in fact, I was of little good. Let me do my best and try my utmost, study and ponder, search ftud compare, all my efforts were but alleviations; the disease, Liko an underground fire whose issues have been closed at the surface, burned steadily on beneath. She saw the ab sorption in which she held me; but she knew that i was devoted to my studies,and if she recognized it to be any thing but professional zeal, she gave me no sign. But my heart beat wildly fur one of those smiles of hers that she shed around so carelessly in moments freed from paroxysms of her pain, for one of those smiles that should be given to me and me only. I stole one day a long tress of her yellow hair while she was sleeping; I betrayed my profession in doing it perhaps, but it was a bitter solace to me, and I have it yet. There was nothing earthly in this passion of mine; how could tnere be when it was for one whose body was passing away trom earth ? I had a certain sort of bliss ouly in seeing her from day to day, in the freedom and the-friendship of our relation—of taking in her hand, whose touch almost made my heart leap into my throat—of receiving her confidences —of being looked for and expected by her. Sometimes when the man and lover overcame the student of science, and I saw that even this must end be fore long, I cursed the day I was born, and grovelled on the floor in darkness Of what use was my profession to me, all my skill, my nerve, my courage, my steady hand, my judgement, if in my one need they availed me nothing, ab solutely nothing ! They were my bane indeed, —for had I never possessed them I should never have beeu consulted in relation to this case—l should never have been tortured to agony by know ing that I could save any rat-catcher’s daughter from all the fevers that infest the slums, while before the life of my soul as it departed I could only veil my face. You must not thiuk me a posi tive monster wheu I assure you that it would have been some satisfaction to me after things came to the worst, could I but have had liberty to make an un fettered investigation into the anatomy of the disease, which I could and would have done; —we arestrauge compounds —at any rate a physician is. “One day I was summoned away by a message which I could not disobey; my father was ill where I alone could be of service to him. I weut to E!i3e, aud gave my written orders for her treatment during the next three days. I thought I might venture to leave her for that length of time, since the changes of her disease were so slow in their pro gress, —and at any rate I must. ‘lf anything strange or new occurs, Elise, desert my directions at once,’ I said, ‘and Bend for Dr. Haussman, —but do not lose your heart to him.' I said that lightly, for Dr. Haussman, though almost unrivalled in his art, was a bachelor laughing-stock among young women. “‘lf I did,’ said Elise, ‘he should never know it.' “‘Why not?' I asked, with some thing very like hope, a ghost of hope risingin my heart. ‘lf a man loves you and is loved by you, has he not a right to know it.” “‘Ah, do you think I am such a wretch as that?’ sighed Elise. ‘To en courge, to deepen so hopeless a love as one for me must be? If I could—to fire a heart which must break ? No, no, I should stifle it even with my ashes,’ “‘You are an angel,’ I said, and I took her hand and kissed it reveren tially rather than passionately. But I went out with my blood dancing for joy in my veins ; I had learned all I wanted to know—and even if she died, as die she must, all through my wretohed stay below, I should know that Elise would be awaiting me, mine and mine only in the life beyond. “ I was detained by my father’s ill ness the three days, as I expected; I brought him back to life, left him in good hands, and started on my return. Overtaken by the great storm, and our coach broken down, and horses that could make headway being hard to find, I was terribly delayed. I did not arrive at the end of my journey till the eve ning of the fifth day, and on. the very hour when my class, as I knew, were awaiting me around the dissecting-table with its subject already procured. I should have kept them waiting for a brief period while I paused beside Elise one moment to learn that she was yet no worse, had not a couple of them way laid me aa I set my foot upon the ground, and made anything else but accompanying them to my tardy lec ture impossible, 1 Never mind,’ I said to myself, ‘ a few minutes more or less will be of small matter. X will make theffecture a precious short one.’ I did make it a precious short one, short enough and doubly preciouß. I linger ed a moment examining my instru ments at the lower part of the hall, then r T ' ■ r LANCASTER PA. WEDNESDAY MORNING JANUARY 20 F 69 • came rapidly up, looking at the table where the subject lay and over which 1 1 thesheethungin heavy waxen folds like j the mortuary-cloth of some Egyptian I princess. An indefinable terror seized !meas I approached; I had no idea why 1 found a shudder creeping over me from head to foot, and my blood run ning cold; my heart became a lump of lead; I could hear it tolling like a fu neral bell; my hands were ice Itself. My first essay with the scalpel, my first incision upon a corpse, had cost me less sick and trembling horror. My hair would perhaps have bristled up on end had it not been wet with the cold dew that started out at my every pore; and if my face had been turned to wards the students who were following behind me, I have no doubt they would have taken me for the subject myself. As I drew nearer to the table, my assistant pulled back the cloth, and suddenly I caught bis hand just as the face only of I the dead person lay bare. If I bad I ben shaking flesh and blood be j fore, for a moment now I was ! marble. This face —this subject that | bad been procured,—this dead woman {lying under the cloth —these long curves { and outlines more beautifully moulded i than sculpture as they stretched beneath j thesheet —that clay-cold forehead with J i all the yellow hair sweeping back from it and falling to the floor—what was it all but Elise? Audi had not knowu she was dead! And with that it over came me, like a blust of Are fusing every other thought iu that one, that my last words with her bad perhaps excited the excess of fever that must ; have swept her away, that it was I who ; had killed her indeed,—and then came I the bitter sense that she had died and ; been buried yet I bad not been beside her, and now exposed to the vulgar gaze i of studeotandjanitors, shelay awaiting the knife. It fell from my hand. “ 1 1 hope there is no mistake, sir,’ ; said the assistant, in a low tone, having ■ noted my agitation and the.face. ‘1 1 found the body already procured when I I came in, and presumed you had given 1 tbe janitor your orders, as usual.’ But I I could not open my heart before this | gaping throng. Mechanically I replaced j the face cloth, wkh a gesture that made I my assistant understand it was not to J be disturbed, aud I sank into a seat, my j head in my hands. None of them had j ever seen that face, none but the j assistant and I; and whether they thought I was ill, or was simply collect ing my scattered thoughts, the students awaited me a while in respectful silence, then commenced calling them selves; audit must have been nearly an hour that I sat there without one thought in my mind, with nothing but asensation of blank misery that seemed to sponge ou.t all the world from existence. My brain was fairly drowned in unshed tears. It was the corpse itself that awoke me. A hand that had beeu composed by its side, vi brating as the heavy tread of a student crossed the room, fellaway loosely from its position, and with one dead, awful swing, and hung there. I can see it now; with the design of a miuiature anchor, that had once, perhaps play fully, been pricked into its whiteness, gleaming upon it. ‘lt is Elise that calls me,' murmured a voice within, that hardly seemed my owu consciousness. ‘She gives herself to her race, she wills that the secret of the demoniacal dis ease that destroyed her shall be discov ered, that no other girl shall die away from love and loverandheaven on earth by means of it. And with tbe thought all my old medical fervor surged back „upon me, my divine curiosity, my de sire for knowledge, for tbe means to work miracles of healing, to bring happiness into homes, and life back to the dying. I rose in stantly, and uncovered thatportiou only , of the subject on which my work was to be done, aud without speaking a syllable , to the studenta that clustered about me, . I was at work. They might watch me ] if they would, I forgot tuem, I was on , fire, and trerabliug everywhere but in , my hands, which could no more have \ shaken than a fiat of fate could waver \ from its eud. The soft surfaces, the , delicate tissues, the placid muscles, one by one were laid aside, and my knife went piercing deeper aud deeper, first , into the mysteries of God’s work, aDd then into the mysteries that had entan gled themselves upon the wholesome ( scheme of creation. It was a terrible while; the flesh I cut, I fancied that it quivered the ganglious of nerves, I , seemed to see tbe electric fluid of life and of volitiou running along them with , intelligent suffering. What minutes, , what hours passed, I know not; the students dropped away, one after the other —the work was beyond their depth —and I did not miss them. ISud denly I flung up my hands, crying out and sobbing aloud : I have found it. The secret was mastered aud mine. Elise had taught it to me. If she were alive—ah, bitter mockery—l could have healed her with the knowledge she had , given me ! Then I replaced everything, drew the sheet over wliat no longer seemed to bear any relation to Elise, went and cleansed my hands and took off my dissecting-dress, glanced , at my assistant lying back in a dead dream, wliere he had sank against j the wall, and I heard the clock strike , three. I had beeu six hours at work. , The door opened, two young men en tered —engaged for the service as I : thought—advanced to the dissecting table, shouldered the subject and moved . again towards the door. I turned my 1 head away, fox after all the touch of , other hands than mine on those re mains, seemed a profanity that I could , not endure to see. “ Re-bury her where ! you found her,” I said hoarsely, and ‘ without looking up, yet startled at the > sound of my own voice, that seemed \ real and positive in tlie midst of uureali ties. But something, I never knew what, I do not know to day, made me , lift my head. I had not heard the fatal . click, nor the door close, nor a footfall j uponthefloor. Y'et, they were gone, aud I was alone in the room with my heavily J slumbering assistant. But I had stood ( almost facing the door towards which they went; they would have been j obliged, too, in order to open it, to move , a heavy table that still remained there ( unmoved; was I the victim of an opti- , cal delusiou? was I losing my mind? ‘ I ran to the door, it had a chain bolt, , aud that was shot together ; I threw it ' open, there wasnot a souud upon all the long stairway, only a cold, cold wind, . 4 caoie blowing by me I smiled at my ’self then a little afterwards, as bewil dered as one in a delirium, forgetting for the moment, that people who leave ( a room cannot bolt it on the inside, aud , I said that my n jrves had been under more tension than they could bear. ( And then I sat down to think—to thiuk , over my discovery which involved so Inestimable a gain, to brood over the j fact of my obtaining it which involved j so irreparable a loss. I wondered at my coolness; I see now, and it is the only i thing that in my mind throws discredit , on the statement, or that would do so , were not my assistant still living to , testify for me—that I was in a white * heat and blazeof emotion and suffering. “ Reaction from my work and my ex- , citement left me soon more utterly ; wretched than the datoned. I welcomed i that sort of comatose vacancy of miDd j that came and benumbed me again.— ] And then I staid there, staring at no- ] thing, till the early bells began to call ( the poor to their work. I rose with ; their clanging stroke—that made me j shiver in every atom of my body, as if , they weredead-bellsthatl heard—went , softy out, and down the winding streets, ( till I paused on the steps of tbe house 1 that once Elise had lived in. Theser- i vants had opeued the doors for the ] morning paper, and I passed in un questioned, as on many a morning be- i fore they had seen me do. I said to ( myself that I would see once more the ' room she had inhabitated—the clothes , she had slipped out of. I strode (Juiq£ , ly down the hall—up the shorter flight —across the landing—opened the door, after one lingering instant with the i handle in my hand—and Elise lay sleep , ing sweetly on her pillow —turning and opening her eyes in asudden frightened waking. I dropped in a dead swoon. “ I thought, when I again became i conscious, that I bad lost my reason. I , would listen to nothing till my assistant had been summond to corroborate or 1 contradict my memories of the preced ing night. He substantiated every word of what I believed to have taken place, up to the time of his falling asleep. I could not then have been laboring under any aberration of intellect. Some chance —some chance!—some Fate — some Fate had come to help me and to heal Elise! There was, at all events, my discovery of the night. At least, let me keep fast hold of my secret, for this still living Elise—keep it, and use It, and conquer with It! “ ‘ But, Elise,’ I cried, ‘tell me one thing—where is the anchor on your arm?'for I saw the white arm lying spotless beneath its lace. On my arm?’ answered she. ‘Oh, no ; that-was on Emily’s arm. She let the boys—my brothers—mark it there one day, to tell us apart by—we were so much alike. And we are going alike, too—going the same way,’ she said, sadly. * You never saw her,’ she added in a moment afterward. “ ‘ Yes—l have seen her,’ I replied. “ And with that I had understood it all. Sister and brothers, in the sub limity of unselfishness—willing to spare Elise from themselves yet a little longer —willing to spare her to love and a lover, and a heaven ou earth—coming in this phantasmal drama,to her cure. The two brothers, long since shadows, had brought the apparition of Emily—dead as long ago as they, and of the same disease with which Elise was being consumed —and had suffered me to learn its fell secret and its cure. I had—great heavens attest the truth—l had dissect ed a ghost i ” “ And Elise? ” asked at last the fear less little Jessica, when thedoctorseem ed to have fallen into irredeemable si lence. Tbe doctorstarted, aud shook himself, as If shaking off a flock of dreams. “ There she sits,” said he. “Elise, my love, it is every word true, Chil dren,gobiss your mother.” Public Education Inttbe United States— A Catholic View. lFrom the American Educational Monthly, of New York. t “Enlightened rulers all over Europe i have been profoundly impressed by the lessons of this and the last century. It was once believed by monarchs that to enlighten their subjects would be to Imperil their thrones. It is now very clearly seen that “ the divinity which doth hedge a king” has long ceased to be an oracle to the people. The French Emperor erects his dynasty upon popu lar suffrage. Hereditary right has come down from its ancient pedestal to accept from the people the confirmation of its authority. It is now too evident for further doubt, that no ruler can rule modern nations by any appeal to the mausoleum of his ancestors. The garish light of the aun has penetrated every royal tomb, aud has altogether annihi lated the mystery which once filled the hearts of nations with awe and un questioning obedience. Public opinion now rules the ruler. Kings and their ministers have now to elect between in telligent and virtuous opinion on the one hand, or revolutionary passions on the other. The wisest of them, there fore, are hastening to educate the peo ple; aud they are striving, above all things, to make such education dis tinctly Christian and not simply moral , for they well remember the fate of ah nations wh > have staked their salva tion upon the sufficiency of the natural virtues. While kings are doing this to preserve the shadow of their royalty from the aggressive spirit of the age, we, in this chosen land, are doing or aiming to do the same thing, in order that we may rearsuccessiveueuerations of virtuous and enlightened heirs to the rich inheritance of our constitutional democratic freedom. Ours should be much the easier task ; as we labor for no dynasty, but strive only to make a nation capable of self-preservation. We are no less in earnest than the kiugs; and we may surely examiue their work and see what is good in it. The kings tried the pagan idea of; intellectual culture adorned with the . glittering generalities of moral phi- 1 losophy; and they added to it ihui maxims of the Christian gospel, when ever that could be done without gettiug entangled iu the conllictimr creeds of the numerous sects. The school was like Plato’s lecture-room, only that thesacred voice of the Evange list was heard occasionally in such pas sages as do not distinctly set forth faith and doctrine, about which the scholars could differ. Sectarianism, as it is call ed, had to of course in a ; mixed system of popular education ' wherein freedom of conscience was cou J ceded to be a sacred right and proaely- j tism was disavowed. The result was twofold; first, tens of thousands of children were deprived of distinct re ! ligious instruction and doctrinal know- i ledge ; and secondly, in countries where j the Roman Catholic population was j large, though in a minority, other tens ! of thousands were left without secular | education, because their parents would i not permit them to bo brought up in | habits of iDdifferentism, which means practical infidelity, or trained in know ledge hostile to their religious faith. Prussia, though she is the very embodi ment aud representative of Protestant j Europe,soon came to the conclusion that this would not do—that education must be Christian—that it must be doctrinal and conductive to religious practices— that, as all could not or would not be lieve alike, each should have full oppor tunity to be reaied in liis own faith, to learn its doctrines and to fulfil its duties and discipline—and, therefore, that en- \ lightened government established the ] denominational system, giving to each . creed practical equality before the law, ! aseparate school organization (wherever numbers made it practicable), and a ratable share of the public school fund; reserving to the government only a general supervison; so as to secure a faithful application of the public money, aud to enforce a proper compliance with 1 tbe educational standard. The public schools are organized so that every citi zen shall obtain the complete education of his child, in tbe faith and practice of his own Church, All difficulties have disappeared, and perfect harmony pre vails. In France, by the last census the pop ulation was thirty-seven millions, di vided about as follows: ISO,OOO Calvin ists, 2G7,000 Lutherans, 30,000 of other Protestant sects, and 73,000 Jews; the remaining thirty-six millions being either practically or nominally Catholic. Although the dissenters from the na tional faith are less than one million, thatGovernmenthasprovided for them, at the public expense, separate primary schools, where eachsectisat full liberty to teach its own doctrines. There are likewise three seminaries forthe higher education of Lutherans and Galvanists. Austria also supports schools, col leges and universities for a Protestant minority. The British Government has likewise adopted the same principles of public education for the Catholics and the Pro testant dissenters of England; while with her traditional an malignant hatred of the Irish people, she still denies them the justice which she extends to all of her other subjects, at home or in the Colonies, even to the Hindoos and Mo hammedans of her Indian Empire! "And thus, the most powerful and enlightened nations have decided that Christian civilization cannot be main tained upon pagan ideas ; and that the safety of every commonwealth depends upon the Christian education of the people. They have also clearly seen that doctrines , discipline, morals, and 11 the religious atmosphere must be kept united, and made to penetrate and sur round the school at all times; and that, however greatly the Christian denomi nations may differ from each other, or err even in their belief, it is far better for society that theif youth should be instructed in some form of Christian doctrine, than be left to peri9h in the dreary and soul-destroying wastes of deism. Experience has proved to them that moral teaching, with Biblical illus trations, as the piety of Joseph, the heroism of Judith, the penitence of David, will not suffice to establish the Christian faith In young hearts, or to quiet tbe doubts of inquiring minds. The subtle Gibbon, mocking the cross of Christ, will confront the testimony of the martyrs with the heroes of pagan history. Voltaire did the same for the French youth of the last century, to their destruction. No. The experience of wise governments is this: that morals must be based upon faith , and faith made efficient in ’deeds of practical vir tue; for, faith worketh by charity. And another experience is this, which is bear given in the very words of the eminent Protestant statesman and historian, M. Guizot: “In order to make popular education truly good and socially! useful, it must be fundamentally religious. I do not simply mean by this, that religious in struction should hold its place in popu lar education and that the practices of religion should enter into it; for a nation is not religiously educated by such petty and mechanical devices ; it is necessary that national educa:i>n should be given and received in the midatof a religious atmosphere,and that religious impressions ana religious ob- servances should penetrate into all its The Exiled Rebels. ?^, B E ?!, lg h K n ri,V! Udj T The Washington correspondent of the Z da cln l i,” s m E Cincinnati Enquirer gives the follow aP^^^r^chaou h ghtt’obVfl.t a ev f^ h ‘SK"y e e e^n n exeTds e e h airf[s er bene™“" 1“ Wf to tbe P^DuM^ed' I "“““e meaning S inSed movements; a moment of Sf houm if schioi should - bl “ no f f ? u ? d “ U n < i“ stated !be left without the religious influence. JJ ha ! b )f ?• o “ l lt is the constant inhalation of the air J*»at Slidell, Benjamin, Davis and Dud which preserves our physical vitality. ey.Mann were all making ready for It is the 'religious atmosphere' which ‘ de ‘ r return, in Musequence of this supports theyoungsoul. Religion can- amoo every account I a wild cry of anger has been raised be h f been „ au f '°“ s for a IoD K ; against them, at times, as though they 10 rn \, Probaby uo , maD “° re were the avowed enemies of all popular candidly “accepts the situs ioni,” i, education. They pay their full quota every sense of the word, consistent with !of ttje public taxes which create the P 3 ™ 0081 hooor - . « e , wo . u d bava bee , u I school-fund,and yet they possess,to-day, back long ago, but he did not like to iu proportion to their wealth and uum- e “eounter personal Indignity, home I bers,more parochial schools, seminaries, of his leading friends have advised him I academies, colleges, and universities, t 0 raturu at ouee ' but . b « 13 a .“ an of ! established and sustained exclusively S reat caution, and is just as likely as by their own private resources, than ?otto wait until he can see how the any other denomination of Christians hmd lies, and the temper of he iiicom in this country! Certainly, this is no mg Administration toward him. Old evidence of hostility to education ! And, Jame 9 3I : Mason must be now over sey why have they mkde these wonderfu futy, and at that time of life local at 'efforts, these unprecedented sacrifices? ?? bmel ? t f unusually s rong. He It is because they believe in the truth tb ’uks, like all \ irginians, that the Old i uttered by M. Guizot. It is because Dominion is the finestpart of he world, they believe in the truth established by aQd wou ‘ d P r f ec B r , eat y 0 bva ,. tbe ™ all history. It is because they believe t 0 a «y where else. Ho had a moderate in the truth accepted and acted upon by ! ency „^i ba cla f a ,“ r hif'.el'r!' the enlightened men and governments lu £. from some property of his i lfe, of this age. It is because they know and though too old and infirm to earn that revealed religion is to human sci- 8 dollar by P ersonal exertion, was thus encewhat Eternity is to Time. It is P ut ab ° va , tbe uecesslty of labor I because they know that the salvation of aee . .“ s ated tbat be ‘ 3 f’ 011 , 11 ° f tl ™ souls is more precious to Christ than the £ bls old bome Winchester, in the knowledge of astronomers. It is be- ' alley of \ rgima He will be able to cause they know that the welfare of hnd a, , e . P‘ ace - doubtleS3 ’. and mee nations is impossible without God. many old friends, but one thing he will And yet, they fully understand how ” ot3ee ; , vlz: bl 3 old homestead. The religion has called science to her aide as . ed3ral *”J 0p n s o < l < l! d P d —Vhar * 1 an honored handmaid ; how learning, le a' ing not one stone upon another. chastened by humanity, conduces to T old J “ bal Early ’ , M t° r L K T„ V Ch ristian advancement; how the kuowp~^ ee an Av- n ? J “, kßoD ’ he . who f edge of good and evil (the fruit of the ‘ r Th P^’»rf forbidden tree) may yet be made toi ? S6,> * ? nd bu . r . n f. d 8 P art .,° r Chambers honor God, when the sanctified soul ret bul ? m retaliation for the burning of jects the evil and embraces the goodi Jackson Miss, and other p!laces, went Therefore the Catholic people desire de^v abroad a ‘ tbe ® lo ? e of the war ’ a . ud ha 3 nominational education, as it is called.” r^ malr md by choice «n exile J don’t remember whether he accepted a parole or not; I tliiuk he did, but most cer tainly he did not“acceptthesituation.” : He is a proud, defiant, unyielding man; | slow to take a position and very tena* I cious of it when once taken. He was j ati original Union n’an.andobstiuately I resisted secession until Mr. Lincoln’s I proclamation was issued, and then he ! went for secession, and the Confederacy j might have had an abler, but certainly 1 no stouter soldier or more steadfast ad | herent. He lived before the war in the | country south of the James River, and j • I suppose must have managed to save J some little property from the wreck. I should take him to be about the last i man in the world to make a cent in a j foreign land. His brief-book on the | Virginia campaign of 1564 is pro I nounced by Lee’s staff, and I believe |is considered by Lee himself, as j tne only book of any real value on the 1 | Confederate side; it is certainly very 1 j terse and perspicuous, but the nature of [ the man is shown by tbe fact that he [ gave the copy-right to help the memo | rial associations of Virginia in collecting I and markingtbegravesof the Southern : soldiers who fell on the battle fields of | tbat State. Said be : “ Perhaps I might 1 have made something by a sale of the I work ; but I wanted to keep clear of all • suspicion of writing a book for money.” j And thus proud, butmanlyaudsincere, • old Jubal hangs out on the Canada side ; of the frontier, occasionally writing a i letter about the war, as, for example, the other day, to prove that Jackson never proposed the night attack, bowie knife and bare arm and breast busines —which the Muse of History—that I “ lying bitch,” as Watkins Leigh called | her —has attributed to him. I think old i Jubal will come back at his leisure when j the fit takes him and bis money gives , out A man must have a good deal of meanness m his nature, be he Radical, Democrat or Southern, not to sympa ; thize with such a nature, j As for JakeThompsou, of Mississippi, w ho used to be Secretary of tbe Interior under Buchanan—many years before i in Congress a rigid economist, Gen : eral Agent of the Confederacy in Canada in IS<>4—he would have came back long . ago but for the miserable lie Holt and >tanton got up between them about his i being accessory to Lincoln’s assassina -1 tion. He longer rich as he. was 1 formerly is, I believe, in easy cir i cumstances. lam sure that he would greatly prefer to return when he can do so safeiycand go to planting again. He has no ambitiou, and says tbat he and men of his age must give way to the younger men; but be is still far from being old, and iB still a man of vigor i ous, healthy, active intellect. Mr. John Slidell is in Paris, and has been there at bis hotel iu the Jiuc de ' Marignan since IS6I. At the time he | was sent abroad by the Confederacy to i manage their relations with Louis Na j poleon, and he expected to stay abroad a considerable time, and knew the un certainties of war—being a long headed man —he took abroad with him a con* , aiderable amount of property which he had converted. Hence, though ad vanced in life, he has been pretty lazy, j 1 and is not starvfed out by the confiscation of his Louisiana property. One of his j : daughters was married to Kmile Erlan- ' ger, he who took the European Confed erate loan, and bid theotherday forone in Spain; his son has a career in the French army; the family adore Paris, and, on the whole, except to transact some personal business I don’t believe Slidell would care to return. Tbe easy, hobnobbing 1 if© *of Paris agrees with him French Almanac. January.— He who is born in this mouth will be laborious, and a lover of good wine, but very subject to infideli ty ; he may too often forget to pay his debts, blit he will be complaisant, and withal a fine singer. The lady born in this month will be a pretty, prudent housewife; rathermelaucholy, but very good tempered. February.—The man born in this month will love money much, but the ladies more ; he will be stingy at home but prodigal abroad. The lady will be a humaue and affectionate wife and tender mother. March.—The man born in this month will be rather haudsome, he will be honest and prudent, but will die poor. The lady will be a passionate chatter box, somewhat given to fighting, and in old age too fond of the bottle. April.—The mau who has themisfor tune to be borne in this month will be subject to maladies. He will travel to his advantage, for he will marry a rich and handsome heiress, who will make— what, no doubt you ailunderstaud. The lady will be tall aud stout, with little mouth, little feet, little wit, but a great talker, and withal a great liar. May.—The man born in this mouth will be handsome aud amiable. He will make his wife happy. The lady will be equally blest in every respect. June. — ihe man will be of small stature, passionately fond of womeu and children, but will not be loved In return. The lady will beagiddy persohage, fond of coffee ; she will marry at the age of twenty-one, and will be a fool at forty five. July.—-The man will be fair; he will sutler death for the wicked woman he ‘oves. The female of this month will be passably handsome, with a sharp nose and sulky temper. August.—The man will be ambitious aud courageous, but too apt to cheat. He will have several maladies and two wives. The lady will be amiable and twice married ; but thesedond husband will cause her to regret the flrjft. September.—He that is born in this month will be wise, strong and prudent; but too easy with bis wife, who will cause him much uneasiness. The lady, round faced, fair haired, witty, discreet, affable, and loved by her friends. October.—The man will have a hand some face and fiorid complexion ; be will be wicked in his youth, and always inconstant. He will promise one thing and do another, and remain poor. The lady will be pretty, a little given to con tradiction, a littlecoquettish, andsome thiug too fondofwine—she willgive the preference to eau devie. She will have three husbands who will die of grief; and she will best know why. November. —The man born now will have a fine face, and be a gay deceiver. The lady of this month will be large, liberal and full of novelty. December. —The man boru in this month will be a good sort of a person, though passionate. He will devote himself to the army, and be betrayed by his wife. The lady will be amiable and handsome, with a good voice and well proportioned body; she will be married twice, remain poor, but con tinue honest. A Literary Curiosity. The following remarkable little poem Is a contribution to the San Francisco Times from the pen of Mrs. H. A. De raiug. The reader will noticethat each line is a quotation from some one of the standard authors of Kngland and Amer • ica. This is the result of a year’s labo rious search among the voluminous wri tings of thirty-eight leading poets of the past and present. The number of each line refers to its author below : 1.1 f f.. 1. Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? 2. Lite's a short Summer, mau a flower. '3. By turns we catch the vital breath and die; 4. The cradle and the tomb, ala*! so nigh. 5. T" be, Is better far than.not to be, 6. Though all man's life m:-y seem a tragedy: 7. But light cajes ppt-ak when mighty griefs are dumb. , g. The bottom Is but shallow whence they come. 9. Your fale is but the common 'ate of all; lb. Unmlntiled joys here t > no man befall 11. Nature to each allots Its prop r spheres 12 Fortune makes folly her peculiar care. • 18. Custom does often reason overrule, In And thro *• a cruel sunshine on a fool. 15. Live well; now long or short, peimli to Heaven ; 16. They who forgive most shall be most :or- given. 17. Sin may ba clasped so close we cannot see Its lace — IS Vile inteicourse, wh*-re virtue has no place. l'J. Then keep each j asslon down, however dear, 20. Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear. 21. Her sensual snares left faithless Pleasure lay, 21. With craft and skill, to ruin and betray. 23. hoar not too high to fall, but stoop to rise ; 24 We masters grow of all that we -leapise. 25. Oh, then, I renounce that impious self- esteem ; 26 Riches have wings, aud grandeur is a drt-am. 27. Think not ambition wise because'Lis brave; 28. The paths of glory lead bu to the grave. 29. What Is ambition ? TU a glorious cheat— -80. Only destructive to the brave aud great What’s all the gaudy glitter of a crown ? • 82. The way to bliss lies not on beds of down 38. H w long we live, not years, but actions tell; 31. That man lives twice wno lives the first life well. 35. Make, then, while yet we may, yonr God ycur friend 36. Whom Christians worship, yet not compre hend 37. The trust that’s given guard, and to your self tie Just; 38 For live we how we can, die we must. 1, Young; 2, Dr. Johnson ; 3, Pope ; 4, Prior: 5, a well; H, Spenser ; 7, Darnel; 8, Sir Walter Raleigh; 9, Longfellow; 10,Southwell; ll.Coa greve; 12, Charcnill: 13, Rochester; 14, Arm strong ; 15, Milton! is, Bailey; 17,'Ireuch; 18, omervilie; 19, Thompson; 20, Byron; 21, Smollett; 22. Crabbe; 23, MasslDger; 24, Cow ; 25, Beattie ; 26, Cowper - 27, Sir Walter Devenant;‘.B. Gray ; 29, Willis; 30, Addison : ,31, Dryden; 32. Francis Quarles; 33 Watkins; 34, Herrick ; 35, William Mason; 36, Hill* 37, Dana; 38, ah&kapeare. Tall Policemen, We are proud of our tall and handsome policemen, but are not the commissioners rather too exacting as to height, with can didates otherwise well qualified for police service? It is said that an applicant who was rejected at night was so nearly of the requisite height that his physician advised him to go home, get up early in the morn ing, take a warm bath, and apply again, as a man is a little taller in the morning, and j ust after taking a warm bath, than at other times. The applicant followed the doctor's advice, and succeeded in getting appointed. ,—# r. mu. Lewis T. Wigfall made bis way abroad at the close of the war somehow or other ; he is a man of desperate energy, and he has been practising law, J be lieve, in some irregular way, not in the Courts of England, and gets along some how or other. He can not have much money, and I fancy would be very glad to be back in Texas at the law once more. He is in many respects an ex traordinary man, a born revolutionist, never disheartened, whatever the storm or the tempest; best pleased, perhaps when the waves run high, devoted to his own pet schemes or ideas, has a pas sion for some people and can hate others like the glow of an anthracite furnace, ia always driving away at something, yet never depressed by failure, and will never give up hope as long as he can find a listener. Give him half a dozen listeners and he is perfectly happy. As we are to peace,” I think Wig fall and the bDited States could har monize matters by allowing him to harangue a Texas jury. What harm would it do, pray ? After a curious and most romantic series of ad ventures, Mr. J. P. Benjamin, ex-Secretary of State, and the Disraeli of the Southern Confederacy, made his way to the West Indies, thence to Eng land, and there he, once the most eloquentofpleadersin the United States Supreme Court, commenced “eating his terms,” as it is called, in the Temple, preparatory to admission to the Courts of Westminister. For a year the ex- Senator, ex Secretary of State, ex- Pleader of America, went through this probation just as might have done any fledgling from Oxford or Cambridge, when all of a sudden John Bull con cluded to relax his iron rule in favor of the brilliant stranger, and dispense with the two remaining years of pre paration for the mysteries of Themis. This made all easy; once in Court, the clear thought, the most riuging tone, the ease of manner, unapproached even In the wonderful perspicuity and power of statement which had once made even Douglas, Crittenden and Hunter look well to their weapons, found their way to the ears and eyes of the bench, and the solemn old cocks in their gowns went out of their way to pay a compliment to the new advocate. This distinction, added to merit and work, won clients ; and now, after get ting out a new law book on sales, be hold our ex-Senator, fixed for life, pro bably in his gown, at Westminster happy there, cheerful everywhere, ir repressible, and. never without a smile, save under the influence of an occa sional headache—the lot of an exile, a flea-bite to the philosopher. As for old Dudley Maun, he who used NUMBER 3 to write awful long letters for Father Ritchie’s Union, over the signature of “Agricola, M £what they were about no [ body but he knows,) an enthusiast over the “Great Eastern,” which he was once under the impression he bad per sonally constructed, once luxuriating in a European mission, sent there by the United States, and subsequently fixed j up comfortably in a similar ease at Brussels, by the Confederacy, where ho ’ shed his ink like a man ; why, he Is all right now. He has got money euough to live on, in a shabby, genteel style at Bonn, or some otherUerman town, nod he is half Dutchman anyhow. Europe suits him far better than a country where taxes are high, and bowing ami scraping, and pleasant, amiable grim aces voted a bore. Old Dudley has in* use for the Uuited States, and the United States still leas for him. Pom old fellow! Who would grudge him hi-* pasture and the occasional luxury ut kicking up his beeJa? As fur Bev. Tucker, everybody knows him, or did know him ouce—“a fellow ufiufiultejesi”—the very prince of good, jolly fellows, that will, if you give him a chance by getting him at a supper, .-ay so many guod thiugs thatyou would uever afterward think of a square meal without him. What an outrage that this man, any one of whose jokes is worth a dozeu fStantons, Holts or Lafay ette Bakers, should have been kept abroad all this tiraean exile —his family large, pooraud very needy—on the ridic ulous pretext of having helped to as sassinute Mr. Lincoln, whereas he never helped assassinateauy thing but canvas back ducks aud oysters ; and I believe he could put a bushel ol both under his belt at one sitting with perfect ease. He is, as I remarked, impecunious, and I know prefers the Lynuhaveu ami Norfolk to the pretentious, but email aod coppery, OsteHil oyster. Does not such patriotism deserve a better reward. 1 Nor would lie object at all to a slight l drop of the “ fusel-oil,” whether uative I or foreign, and if auy body thinks to ! insult him by allusions to Bourbon,Jus.t j let him produce the iusult, aud see if it I be not promptly swallowod. I have barely a word to add about Mr. j Davis. A few mouths ago Mr. Davis j went down to Mississippi, intending to | stay there, and, i believe, go to plautiug i aguin ; for his local attachments are very strong, aud he is deeply attached I to his old friends and the home where he has passed so large a part of his life. But whatever he did or left undone, the Radicals distorted it and made a fuss; ; malice pursued him at every step, and finally he left for Europe to get rid of it, stating to one of his friends that lie would sacrifice himself and his own interests and desires rather than be the : occasion of drawing down increased < persecution and malignity agulnst the people of his State. Rather than do this, welcome exile and its bitter bread. ( Mr. Davis’ means are very scaut; like General Breckinridge, he owes much to the bounty of friends. The story of his I having caused funds to be conveyed to Europe while he was President for his ■ own benefit, in case of final reverse, is ' discredited by the fact of his poverty, as well as by the fact that he made no j i serious effort to escape till almost the last moment, and then reconsidered his de- • sign, and retraced his steps on hearing I of Mrs, Davis being annoyed by mu- j rauders. Nor do Stanton aud Holt de- j serve any special credit for this fabri cation of theirs, it; being the precise course they would have adopted iu like 1 circumstauces. Anti this, I think, com , pletes the list of pramiueut exiles who are affected by this proclamation. There are a few others, who are at home, who come in under this hist amnesty, whose later career may noticed on some future occasion. Military Kale lu Texas—\ 4'ltizcu Wan tonly Hilled. [From the New Orleans Picayune, .Jnnunryf> The Picayune’.* readers are not ignorant of the sad condition to which Reynold’.** rule has brought the Stale of Texas. Mmir uvieff’s rule In Poland was more endurable at large, and to proud spirit*, infinitely less galling; for, whereas the Russian satrap served one muster, an “enlightened des pot,” Reynold’s was the tool of a faction that illustrates the most odious and mean est vices of party rule. During bis regime wherever the military were in sufficient numbers to overawe the Citizens, aud ilie Radical miscreants had personal or politi cal ends to compass. the people held their lives, liberty, and property ut the hazard, as it were, cal Coluiui 15 cents per lino. Special Notices preceding marriages an deaths, 10 cents per line for first lnsertloi and 5 cents forovory subsequent Insertion; Legal and oxn k a notices - Executors’ notices ... 2J» Administrators - iQO Assignees’ notices, 2.M Auditors’ notices, ...... 2.00 Other “Notices, ’ten lines,**or**lessi 2 three times, i.gp Neve Items. Paris smoked S00,l)00,0d0 cigars last yea; Female compositors set up the San Fran cisco Californian. In Cincinnati nineteen ladieshavelormet an Kqual Suffrage S' cietv. The cultivation of olive trees is becomihi extensive in California. Hon. Oden Bowie has been inauguralei Governor of Mnrylund. Wm. M. Stewart was reelected l. Senator by the Nevada Legislature Tbo canals of Now York last ve.ir \ ieldo a surplus revenue of $3,693,300.’ Henry Ward Beecher .-ays women inaki tue best prayers in lus congregation. The Bsrnev WiUiam.-es have made a fur- ’ 'lunm.-c.i tin n utauv (v - tune of A bottle ot whiskv and $.-)() »s tho price ol a seal skin in Ai -ska. A yearling baby was carried .»u two milei In - an eagle in IVum-s>ee the other day. A school has h-ei) r-Mabii-hetl 111 the Cnli- I n uia State prison u>r ihe bem lii ot tti,- mi tel lei ed. rile Lallans ot San Fiaiieisrn have laid ihe I'oi uer-sioiu* of a he w ho.-piml. Flogging in the auuv lui • Leon aboli.-dud i’l Sweden. The New ork Female Club is getting up a course ol leetui. s. Jhe proiess..is get $3OO per’tnoiith in the CiiUlorniu Fniversitv. One hundred and two females teuohers in Boston demand the rigid to vote. Peanuts art'said to be a very exhausting crop, both for [lie jaws and tlicholj. Longielio w and Present t are said to be the two American writers be-t known in Italy. Gen. Pro-ton, !a:e minister to Spain, lius been elected to the Kentucky Legislature. Some 19:5,6-10 Engli.-hmen get righting drunk every year—iuvoiding to the Court records. Recently, at Magdeburg, a widow of 7.' married her seventh husband. He was lesi than thirty years old. A hairless squirrel lias been caught in Natchez, Its skin is soli and smooth, und evidently never hud any hair upon it. Two American students at Gottingen fought a duel with pistols last month, übout Grant and Seymour. The pecuniary }<•*» by the recent earth quake at San l-bancisco will, it is said, ex ceed three millions of dollars. The Commissioner of Indian Affairs, In his report, estimates 1 lu* number of Indians to bo provided for at 3tin non. A Philadelphia prolessor has invented a steam brick kiln, wherein 100.000 brteksenn lie evenly burnt in three days. The Siamese twins ure in Liverpool. They will make a tour of the United Kingdom as a show before going to Paris to bo cut apart. There are twenty eight newspupor cor respondents -in Paris, twenty ot thorn Americans. Governor Hoffman is thirty nineymrsof ago; and the youngest Governor New York ever had except .Seward. The winter is so mild in some parts of England thut mushrooms have been pick ed in the open holds in December. At a fashionable dinner recently given in New York the bills of tare wore found in a gold nut at the plate of each guest. '1 bo Stevenson cotton case in Now York, involving $1,000,000, was decided against the Government. About 100 otllcers of Stale Courts in Vir ginia have been removed wltuin three weeks, in pursuance of the Fourteenth Amendment. Wm. P». Haskins, ol Uockporl, Me., year- old, has been amusing himself with skating leads that would tire many of the boys. The incomo of the Girard ealnlu in Phila delphia last vear was $105,836, and tbo ex penses $617,.576 Of this sum, $1:55,618 whs expeuded on the Girard College. During IS6S, the number of loreign clear ances at 80-tun was .'5,017, nun prising a ton nage of 5.53.549 a gain of 699 vessels oyer 1877,. but a decline m tonnage of 61,066 tons. Thirty thousand cigars of a valuable brand were a»*ized at New Orleans a lew days ago. About the same quantity were contiscated at Boston recently. John Scott, the Republican nominee for United Stales Senator Inm Pennsylvania, is said to have been a “ tanner boy ” in his youth. Auotncial despatch from Fort Hays, Kan sas, reports the capture ol a ('nmanctio yil luge of .sixty lodg-n, by Go!. Evans. Three soldiers Were wounded. A boarding school Mi-s, being unwell, deemed It vulgar to say that she was “ Bil ious,” so she coiJipluiui-d ol being “Wll- ItamoUH.” There was a convention of Alumna in St. Puul, Minn., the oilier day, and the daughter ot a prominent Radical ran away with one ol the tick.-.-.. The postmaster at Salem, Massachusetts, is a do'uujier to the tune of $6O Out). He Is not dishonest; only lorgot where he put the money. Three negroes have been arrested for mur dering GuOriel Martin and two maiden sis ter« and afterward burning their uodius, in Columbia, Ga. Dr. Lewis S. Eichi lberger, whose sudden death was announced n tow weeks ago, in the Charleston, (W. V., /-V«*c Prrxx left three rule Insurance polies, of $60,000 each, making SOU,IJUU. Pennsylvania owes $33,686,940: Massa chusetts, $)0 516.560 ; Illinois, $5 MB -153 ; Delaware. $1566 000; Michigan, $3.61-1,07S (bonded,) $6.031,-Do (trust fund) ; Missouri SIH 654,000 , Deer, it is said, were never more plenty •in Northe.ru New YuYk than ui present. One master hunter, who employ., some thirty men to hunt for him. ims sent up wards ot 500 carcasses to market this season. David Dudley Field is elecied President of the Free-Trade league, in New York, iu place of Mr. Bryant, who has for years tilled that post. Mr. Delinur is the secre tary ot tile league. Ward K. Lumou is writing the secret his tory of Mr. Lincoln’s administration. He has bud access to important documentary remains, and some curious revelation* of public men may be anticipated. Gov. MeHlurg, (if Missouri, in his Inau gural address, recommends the submission anew of tho negro suffrage amendment to the -State Constitution, and opposes the en franchisement of ex-rebels. Detective liarmore, of Nashville, return ing from a business trip to Puluski, was taaen from a train on the Nashvillo and Decatur Railroad by a bund of men ‘lfr in number, with masks. What tkeydid with him is unknown. Henry Clay s son Theodore is an inmnte "I the lunatic asylum at Lexington, Ky. He is small in stature and thin, with il bald head und gray hair and wlii-ki-rs. He sel dom speaks, but recognize-, those who ad dress him by returning the saiuto politely and with dignity. Or.o of the largest liquor dealers in Bos lou—a leading advocate of the present li cense law—who has three stores in full op eration, has never yet procured a license. He says be prefers to ruu iho risk of prose cution to paying the cost oi a license und tho percentage on his sal'** required bv the law. His tines have not been very heavy thus lar. An energetic effort is made to have the President pardon Dr. Mudd and Spangler, convicted of complicity in the assassination ot President Lincoln. A number of peti tions from various quarters have been pre sented in behalf of Mudd, and to-day a del egation ot citizens of Maryland called upon the President and urged the pardon of tho last-named prisoner. Spangler’s friends have presented some influential recommen dations for pardon. All these petitions are referred to the Attorney General. NtarUlng Tragedy ou n Coolie Ship. A letter from Yokohama gives tho par ticulars of u tragic affair which happened on a coolie ship, first supposed to be Urn I (slian bark ProviJenzia, but which proved to be the t’lyalto, which sailed from Callao for another part ot the South American coast. When two days out the coolies took possession, made the crew last to an anchor and consigned them to the depths below, retaining the captain, who promised to navigHie the slop to Chinn. But he evi dently changed his mind, us he look th< rn to *‘