mt §tawuta gvtUttgiwir, PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY BY n. o. sMitri,& co. LI, G. Smith 'A. J. Steinman TERMS—Two! Dollars per annum, payable In all oases in advance. The Lancaster Daily is published every ovenlng, Sunday escepted, at 85 per Annum In advance. < OFFlCE—Southwest corner of cents* SQUARE, ; LONUIXG. O f jollfih wisdom sought In books l O aimless fret of household tasks! O chains that bind the hand andmlud— A fuller lire my spirit asks. For there the grand Hlope greenly downward to the peas: Our hour of rest upon their breast. Were worth a year of da; ft like Iheso. Their cool, soft green to ease tho pain Of eyes that ache o’er printed, words; This weary noise—the city's voice, Lulled in the sound of bees and birds. For Eden’s life within ma silrs, Andscorusthe shackles Hint I wear, The man. 11 (o grand; pur* soul, strong baud, The limb of utetT, ihe heart of air! Ami I could kl«s willi longing wild, Earth’s dear brov/n bosuin*. loved so much A gruss-bladf* I'.umi’d nciossmy bftDd, Would thrill me like a lover slouch. Tho trees would talk with me; Lbs lb»w>-rs Their hidden meanings each make known— Tno olden loro revivtd once more, When aim's and nature’s heart wire oue. Ami ns the pardoned pair might como Hack to the garden God lirst frurued. And hear Him call at even-full, And answer, ‘'Here am I,” ui.shiiimd — Ho I, from out these toils, w herein The Eden-falth grows .sluntd ami dim, Would walk, a child, through Nature’s wild, And hear Ills'voice aud answer Him. The. Overland. gWsccttanffluis. The Xlght or Years. JJY lie win loved. So for a lime, that second birth of woman’s na ture whs like a warm sunrise struggling with the cold mistof t he cold morning. .But one day brought a letter which could not he forgotten in the home of the absent, and a letter traced by a hand that trembled in sympathy with a heart tumultuous witli happiness. Lucy had been wooed and won, and she but wailed her parnets’ approval of her choice, to ■ become the betrothed of Edwin \V , a man of excellent family and standing in the town where she had been teach ing. The lather ami mother accorded their sanction witli many blessings, and Lucy’s next, letter promised a speedy visit from the lovers. To such natures as Lucy's what an absorbing and yet what a revealing of self is a first pa.-dinu--what a prodigali ' (y of giving, what, an incalculable wealth of receiving—what a breaking up id there, of the deep waters of the soul, and how luavcii descends in a Midden star-shower upon life. If there is a season when an angel may look with interest upon her moral sister, it is when she beholds her heart pass from its hud-like innocence and girlhood, aud tasking to its very core the fervid light of love, glow and crlmsou into perfecl womanhood. At last the plighted lovers came, aud welcomes aud festivities awaited them. Mr. \V., gave entire satisfaction to father and rnother, and even the exact ing “ beauty.” He was a handsome man, with some pretensions to fashion ; but in manner, aud apparently in char acter, the opposite of his betrothed. ft was decided that Lucy should not .again leave home until after the mar riage, which, at the request of the nr ‘ dent lover, was to be eelebruted within two months, aud on the birth day of the bride. It was therefore arranged that Ellen should return with Mr. \V. to take charge of her sister’s school for the remainder of the term. ! The bridal day had come. It had been ushered in hy a May morning of surpassing loveliness; the busy hours had worn away and nowit was nigh sunset, and neither the bridegroom nor Ellen, the first bridesmaid, had ap peared. Yet in her neat little chamber sat Lucy, nothing doubting, nothing fearing. She was already in a simple white muslin, and her bridal ornaments lay on the table by her Mile Miss Al leu, her second bridesmaid, a bright eyed, atfeclionale heaited girl, her chosen friend from childhood, was ar ranging to a aioie graceful fall tiie wealth of light ringlets which swept her snowy neck. To the anxious inquiries of her coinpanibn respecting the absent ones Lucy smiled quietly and replied : “Oh, something lias hajrp’eued to de taiu them awhile ; we heard from them the other day, ami all was well. They will be here hy and by, never fear.” 'Eveuiug the guests were as sembled, uml yet the bridegroom tarried. There were whispers ami surmise and wonderings, ami a shadow of anxiety passed over the face of the bride elect. At last a carriage drove rather slowly up to the door. “They have come!” cried many , voices, aud Ellen .entered. In reply to . the hurried inquiries aud confusion of all around him Mr. W. muttered some thing about “unavoidable delay,” and stepping unto the side-board, tossed oil 5 glass a wine, auother and another. — The company stood silent, with amaze ment. Fiually a rough old farmer ex claimed : “Better late than never, young man—so lead out the bride.” W. strode hastily across the room, and placed himself by Ellen and took her hand iu his! Then, .without dar ing to meet the eye of any about him, •• he said : “ I wish to make an explana ’ lion —I am under the painful necessity —that is, I have the pleasure to an nounce Uiat I am already married. The lady whom I now hold by the hand is my wife!” Then, turning in an apologetical manner to Mr. aud Mrs. Dutton, he ad ded ; “ I found that I had never loved until I knew your second daughter.” And Lucy? She heard all with a strange calmness, then walkingsteadily forward confronted her betrayers. Ter rible, as pale as Kemesis herself, she stood before them; and looks pierced like a keen, cold blade into their false hearts. As though to assure herself of . the dread reality of the vision, she laid her haud on Ellen’s shoulder, and let it glide down her arm—but she touch , ed not Edwin. As those cold fingers met hers, the unhappy wife first gazed full into her sister’s face ; and as she •marked the ghastly pallor of her cheek —the dilated nostril—the quivering lip and intensely mournful eyes, she cover ed her own face with her hands and burst into tears, while the young hus band, awed by the terrific silence of her he had wronged, grasped for breath and staggered back against the wall. Then Lucy clasped her forehead and first gave voice to her anguish and despair in one fearful cry, which could but wring for ever through the souls of that guilty pair, and fell in a death like swoon at their feet. After the insensible girl had been re moved to a chamber a stormy scene en sued in the room beneath. - The parents and guests were alike enraged against ©|C lancastcr Jntdlujcna't: VOLUME 70 W., but the tears and prayerß of his young wife, the petted beauty ana spoiled child, at lastsoftenedßomewhat the anger of the parents, and an oppor tunity for an explanation was accorded to tho offenders. A sorry explanation it proved. The gentleman affirmed that the first sight of Ellen's lovely face had weakened the empire of her plainer sister over his affections. Frequent interviews had completed the conquest of his loyalty; but he had been held in check by honor, and never told bis love, until, when on his way to espouse another, in au un guarded, moment, he revealed it, and and answering acknowledgment from Ellen. They had thought best, in order “ to save pain to Lucy,” and prevent the opposition from her, and secure their happiness to he married before their ar rival at C . Lucy remained insensible for some time. Whenshe revived and apparently regained her consciousness, she still maintained her strange silence. This continued for many weeks; when it partially passed away, her friends saw with inexpressible grief that her reason had fled—that she was hopelessly in sane! But her madness was of mild and harmless nature. Bhe was gentle and peaceable as ever, but frequently sighed and seemed burdened with Borne great sorrow which she could not herself com prehend. Bhe had.one peculiarity,which all who knew her .must recollect; this, was a wild fear and careful avoidance of men. She could not, she would not be coulined, but continually escaped from her frleuda, they knew not whither. • While her parents lived, they by their watchful care and unwearied efforts in some measure controlled thread pro pensity; but when they died, their stricken child becaraea wanderer, home less, friendless, and forlorn. Through laughing spriugs, and rosy summers, tramp, tram;), tramp —no rest for her of the crushed heart and crazed brain. 1 remember her as she was in ray early childhood, towards the last of the weary pilgrimage. As, my father and elder brothers were' frequently absent, and as my mother never closed her heart or door on- “Crazy Lucy,” she often spent an hour or two by our fireside. Her appearance was very singular, ller gown was always patched with many colors, and her shawl or mantle worn and torn, until it was open work and fringe. The remainder of her wardrobe she carried in a bundle on herarm, and sometimes she had a number of parcels of old rags, dried herbs, &c. In the season of' flowers, her tattered bonnet was profusely decorated with those which she gathered in the woods or by the wayside. Her love for these and tier sweet voice were all that were left iier of the bloom und music of her existence. Yet, no; her meek and chi Id-like piety still lingered. Her Clod had not forsaken her; down in the dim clmos of her spirit the smile of His love yet gleamed faintly—in the waste gar den of her heart she still heard His voice at eventide, and she was not afraid. Her Bible went with her every where—a torn and soiled volume, but as holy still; and it may be, as dearly cherished, my dear reader as, the gor geous copy now lying on your table, bound in " purple ami gold,” and with the gilding untarnished upon the deli cate leaves. Thirty years from the time of the commencement, of this mournful his tory, on a bleak autumnal evening, a rough country wagon drove into the town of C . It stopped at the alms house; and an attenuated form was lifted up and carried in, and the wagon rumbled away. This was Lucy Dutton brought to her native town to die. rihe had been in a decline for some months and the miraculous strength which hail long sustained her in her weary wandering at last forsook her ut terly. Her sister had died some time before; and the widowed husband had soon after removed to the far west, so Lucy hud no friends.no home but the alms-house. One day, about a week from the time of tier arrival, Lucy appeared to suffer greatly and those about her looked for her release almost impatiently till morning. The matron, who was by her bedside when she awoke was startled by the clear and earnest gaze which met her own, hut she smiled and bid the invalid “ Good morning.” Lucy look ed bewildered, but the voice seemed to reassure her. and she exclaimed: — '* Where am I ; and who are you? I do not. know you.” A wild surmise Hashed acroes the mind of the matron, the long lost reason of the wauderer had returned. But the good woman replied calmly and sooth ingly ; “Why you are among your friends, and you will kuow me presently.” “Then maybe you know Edwin and Ellen,” rejoined the invalid; “have they comef Oh, I had such a terrible dream! I dreamed that they were married! Only think, Ellen married to Edwin! Strange’tis that I should dream that.” “My poor Lucy,” said the .matron with a gusli of tears, “that was not a dream, 'twas all true.” “All true!” cried the invalid ; “then Edwin myist be untrue, and that cannot he for he loves me ; we love each other well, aud Ellen is my sister. Let me see them; I will go to them. She endeavored to raise herself, but fell back fainting on the pillow. “ What does this mean?”'said she— “ what makes me so weak?” Just then her eye fell on her own hand —that old and withered hand ! She gazed on it in blank amazement. “Something is the matter with my sight,” she said, smiliDg faintly, “ for my baud looks like an old woman's.” “ And so it is,” said the matron gently, “ and so is mine ; yet we had fair, plump hands when we were young. Dear Lucy, do you not know me ? I am Maria Allen —I wus to have beeu your brides maid.” I cannot say more —I will not make the vain attempt to give in detail that mournful revealing—to reduce to ex pressive words that dread sublimity of that hopeless sorrow. To the wretched Lucy the last thirty years were as though they had never been. Of not a scene, not an incident, had she the slightest remembrance, since the recent and taitorous lover stood before her aud made that terrible an nouncement. The kind matron paused frequently in the sad narrative of her poor friend’s madness and wanderings, but Ibe inva lid would say with tearful calmuess— “(Jo on, go ou,” though the drops of agony stood thick upon her forehead. When she asked for her sister and the matron replied : “She has gone before you, and your father also.” “ Aud my mother?” said Lucy, her face lit up with a sickly ray of hope. “ Your mother has beeu dead twenty years.” “Dead! All gone? Alone, old, dying? Oh, God, my cup of bitterness is full,” only wept aloud. Her friends bent over her, and ming ling her tears with hers said affection ately : “ But you know who drank the cup before you ?” Lucy looked up with a bewildered expression; and the matron added — “ The Lord Jesus ; you remember him.” A look likesunlight breaking through a cloud, a look which only saints may wear, irradiated the tearful face of the dying woman as she replied : “Oh, yes, I knew Him and loved Him before I fell asleep.” The man of God was called. A few , who had known Lucy in herearlydays I came also. There was much reverential : feeling and some weeping around her death-bed. Then rose the voice of prayer. At first her lips moved as her weak spirit joined in that fervent appeal.— Then they grew still,, aud poor Lucy was dead —dead in her gray-haired youth. Those w.ho gazed on that pla cid face, and remembered her harmless life and patient suffering, doubted not •that the morn of an eternal day had broken on her “ Night of years.” Tba Supreme Court of Louisiana has de cided in favor of' the constitutionality of the one-per-cent, tax of that State, and dis solved injunctions against Its collection. Two men were frozen to death while walk ing across the prairie, near Carroll Station, lowa, yesterday morning. A thiid was so badly frozen tnat his feet and hands must be amputated. The Tennessee River Convention, com posed of 178 delegates from Kentucky, Ten nessee, Alabama, Georgia, Virginia, Ohio and Pennsylvania, met at Chattanooga ves terdav. A permanent organization was ef fected, with Gov. i Bullock, of Georgia, as President. Resolutions were adopted urg ing the Improvement of the Tennessee river, and a committee was appointed to memori alize Congress upon the subject. mo last or tbe Confederates. A Blnn Without o Tbe Cane of Lie at. Krai n Uls Offense ana tbe Morj of Jttis Imprisonment. When that vivid fiction, “ the Man Without a Country” was first publish ed, the American people were startled at the bare possibility of its truthfulness, and the very extravagance of the con ception contributed to its plausibility. Philip Nolan has almost a parallel in John C. Brain. Arrested in 1866 upon a charge of piracy and murder, he is still in the Brooklyn Penitentiary in 1869, untried and unconvicted. SeeiDg but few visitors and constantly sur rounded by convicts, he is held in con finement without trial when Andrew Johnson’s pardons have reached every one beside, and opened wide the prison doors to worse than he. — Brain has been repeatedly “ writ-- ten up” in the newspapers during the years of his confinement; atone time be is represented as in the Brooklyn jail, an arrogant and bitter Rebel breathing worn-out maledictions against the Government, with a faith like that of the Richmond hack driver, whosaid, the other day, “Confederick money will be good -yet. Kribby Smith is still a lighten’ across the Mississippi, tuid he will bring it up.” At another time the story is that he is languishing in the Penitentiary; broken in health and shattered in intellect, an object of pity rather than a subject of punish ment; and then the months turn their weary round and he is for gotten, but still a prisoner. The in dictment so long impending over Jell’. Davis, no longer hangs suspended like the uplifted blade of the guillotine,ready to fall upon the neck of a proud and willful traitor, conquered but not sub dued ; Breckinridge, who left the Senate of the United States in a time of war to engage in the struggle against the Government which had cherished him, is free to return to the country he be trayed ; Semmes, the modern corsair, than whom even Byron’s Gaiour is no worse, may clap with the loudest in ap proval of the Clarendou-Johnsou treaty for the settlement of the Alabama claims; but one poor wretch not so bad as these, is left to suffer because he was not so prominent. One who had first seen Brain at the time of his examination before l\ S. Commissioner Newton, in September, 1860, yesterday went in search of the prisoner whose confinement has been so unusual. Calling at the jail in Raymond street, he found the prison van at the door filled with convicts ready to be conveyed to the penitentiary. Seating himself on the box with the driver—a cheerful old cove who does not look at all as if he had delivered, upon an aver age, a dozen men per day to the keepers of that institution for full as many years the van bore the entire party along Kiatbush-ave. and through Prospect Park to the penitentiary. The vil lainous smoke aud sombre looks within were in strange contrast to the fresh air aud cheerful skies without, but arriving at the penitentiary all entered that Castle of Delinquency together. The formality of receiving aud disposing of the convicts beiug end ed, he then had an opportunity to ask for Lieut. Brain. After a brief delay, the consent of Brain to the visit having been first obtained, he wa9 taken for the interview into the well-warmed and lighted corridor. The prisoner cheer fully reached out one hand by way of friendly welcome, while iu the other he held his pipe and tobacco box, the solace of his prison hours. The formalities of the interview being over, pencil aud paper were soon at work tracing the story which had been told in the news papers before, but tbistimeitcamefrom Brain’s own lips, and in his own way. Long after the heat and passion of the war had passed, and with his proud spirit mellowed, if not overcome, by confinement aud suffering, it has a new interest and a personal charm. He said: My name is John C. Brain— not Braine—and I was a First Lieuten ant, commanding in the Confederate navy. My commission andorders were written on fly-sheet note paper and they were either worn out or lost. The archives of the Confederate Naval De partment being destroyed by the Feder al forces it is impossible to obtain the original papers deposited there, but I have placed affidavits in the hands of the Attorney-General of the United States sitting out all the facts in the case. These affidavits are byJStephen R. Mallory, the .Secretary of the Con federate Navy, Dr. Jones, Auditor, and Mr. Tidball, Chief Clerk of the Naval Department, Admiral Semmes, Capt. Maffit, and others. In June, ISG3, I i received orders from the Department at Richmond to go North with my com mand, consisting of 17 officers and men, and take passage in a steamer with the purpose of capturing it upon the high seas. The Chesapeake sailed from New York for Portland in December, and I took passage upon her in .obedi ence to the orders I had previously re ceived. After seizing the vessel I was to proceed to Seal Cove, in the Island of Grand Manan, off thecoastof Mainefor coal k and there hand the vessel over to Capt. John Parker, my superior officer. In making the capture I detailed Lieut. David Cowlins and two men to take chargeof the engine and fire-room. The engine-room communicated with the cabin by a door on the port side. After seeing the meu go iDto the engine-room I passed forward, Lieut. H. A. Parr having charge of the deck In my engine-room, and at once went aft through the cabin into the eugiue room, and thence into • the fire room, where I found the fireman in irons. Returning to the deck I found no one in the engine-room, but much to my regret, saw the body of the Sec ond Engineer of the Chesapeake lying across the threshold of the door. Going forward I found Lieut. Cowlins, who reported to me that when he went into the engine room the engineer was below oiling the machinery, but after securins the fireman he found that officer at hi post. He ordered the engineer to sur render as a prisoner-of-war to the Con federate States of America, and that officer replied by firing a shot, which maimed one of the men for life.— I did not see the firing which followed, but after seeing the man in the doorway, I sent Lieutenant Parr, who was a regular physician, to examine him. Lieut. Parr pronounced the man dead. One of the witnesses who testfied before United States Commis sioner Newton, said that he saw me in my shirt sleeves with a knife in my hand. This is not only not true, but it is very unlikely that it should be true, the day being a bitter cold day in December. I hadnoarms exceptaColt’s revolver. On arriving at Seal Cove after the capture, I found that my superior officer was not there. I remained about three hours, and then proceeded up the Bay of Fundy, meeting Capt. Parker at sea, in a pilot boat, about 70 miles from St. John, N; B. The captain, officers and some of the crew of the Chesapeake were transferred to the pilot boat and taken to St. John. Capt. Parker then took (Sonjmand, and changing the course of the vessel put into Shelburne, Nova Scotia, for the purpose of coaling. While the vessel was in the port I was ordered to Halifax to procuresupplies, and I was never again on board the Chesapeake in an official capacity. The ship was re captured in Sand Bar Harbor, Dear Hal ifax, by the U. S. gunboat Ella & Annie, Capt. Nicholls, and taken to that city, where the original capture was adjudged an act of war. The vessel was handed over to the owners, Messrs. Cromwell & Co. of New York, upon a deposit of j $70,000 being made to the British au thorities, and Mr. Seward afterward made an apology for the recaptirte. I wish to make a clear and unequivocal statement that in every capture I made priyate property was scrupulously re spected and human life never heedlessly sacrificed. The men were armed with Cplt’s revolvers, but carried no knives or other weapons. In every case I issued Btrict orders to my officers and men not to fire upon any one unless re sistance was offered. At the close of the war I was in command of the Confederate, States schooner St. Mary’s in the West Indies. "Upon being in formed of that event I burned the vessel, and returned to this country in October, 1865, trusting for security to President Lincoln’s Proclamation of Amnesty. I engaged in business at Savannah, where my family now are. On the 13th of September, 1866,1 was arrested at the Wall House in Williams burgh, and. after being ironed, I was taken to the|Forty-fifth Precinct Station House, where I was kept all night with out bedding of any kind, though I of fered to pay liberally for it. I took a cold that night which has been the cause LANCASTER PA, WEDNESDAY MORNING MARCH 3 h'69 of much suffering. After being taken before the United States Commissioner, I was sent to this prison, where I have been ever since, my case being continu ed from day to day and month to month without trial. I wish to repeat that I am not by any means the bloodthirsty individual I have been represented. Lieut. Brain was a tall, straight, and commanding-looking personage when In health, but his sufferings in prison have been so intense that he cannot walk without the aid of a crutch, and is, perhaps, permanently disabled. His right foot is much swollen from in flammatory rheumatism, a disease he attributes to the unavoidable dampness of the prison and he is a wreck of the man who entered it nearly three years ago. He is only 29 years of age, but says, with a truthfulness that is ap parent iu his looks, that since his im prisonment he has grown old faster than with the flight of years. He is a man of mild and affable maDDers and agree able conversation, and seems in his bearing to have kept bimself un tainted from the prison atmos phere about him. A widowed mo ther and two young daughters depend upon him for support, aud he expresses himself as anxious to be with them. Efforts are being made to seedte Kls pardon at the hands of President John sod, but if he is not pardoned, the Con stitution guarantees him a speedy trial, aud it is made the duty ; of the courts and the Government to see that this is not only accorded to him, but insisted upon. Had either of these things been done, that wretched spectacle of a man, not convicted of any crime, compelled to be the daily companion of convicted felons, would not now offend the no bler instincts of the American people. With a shattered constitution and a frame that is no longer the subject of the will, he drag 9 himself about the prison, and even finds it necessary to appeal to the judgment of his visitor that the reports of some newspapers that he has lost his reason are untrue That was a sad aud paiuful record which the band of the story-writer traced in the life of Philip Nolan, but here is a man without a country and without atrial, whose few years of suffering reverse the natural order, and make the truth of history look for a parallel in the tales of fiction.—A. TYibunc. The Origin of the Mocking bird, The young and beautiful PriDcess Ne royah loved the brave warrior Tonaka, but the tribes to which they respective ly belonged were bitterly hostile; therefore, the secret meeting of the young lovers had to be conducted in the most adroit and disguised manner. Fortunately, Tonaka was endowed by the Great Spirit (who ever distributes his wondrous benefactions, with au all seeing eye, to the future requirementof the recipient) with a singular power of mimicry. So gifted was he that, with but slight effort, he could imitate any known bird or animal under thesun. Often, in thestillnessof the midnight hour, Neroyab, hearing the preconcert ed signal, would steal from her couch of leopard skin, aud seek the vast depths of the forest,~wheie she would find her beloved waiting her with anxious im patience. Sometimes the sigual would pe the shrill cry of the pauther or wild cat; again, the barkiDg or a dog; but more frequently the exquisite notes of some forest night-bird. This bliss endured for many moons when, notwithstanding their extreme caution, their attachment became known, and the twd tribes then at war resolved that they should,be put to death- The decree was unknown to either; and when they were both tied to the fatal stake, aud the grim and painted warriors around them, the fag gots piled ready for the fires, and all the implements of torture displayed with cruel significance, each was busy im ploring the Great Spirit who sat in the the clouds above and gazed down on the scene, to preserve the life and happi ness of the other. The heart of their god was touched at this Iron tenderness of devotion ; his compass deigned to avert the wrath of of their persecutors, and he caused a strong whirlwind to blow around each, which filled the eyes of the astonished warriors with dust, and when the whirl winds passed, the captives could not be found. The Great Spirit, however, did not forget that the lovers, absorbed in their devotion to each other for many long months, aud in the contrivance of those secret meetings which had gladdened their lives, had neglected the ceremon • ies of devotion due to him, and therefore would not grant them the immediate union they coveted in this world, and were impious enough to prize above the joys to be sought iu the happy hunting 1 grounds of the future existence. He changed the young warrior to a mocking bird, and the princess to a beautiful and wondrous bird, of rare plumage, who should have no mate, but should wander alone, the sole type of her species on earth, until the mocking bird succeeded in producing a weird and singular note of exquisite and diffi cult harmony, ’which alone has the power of calling her to his side. •By this note alone can they know each other. Since then she has wan dered over the world unrecognized, but still existent, and Tonaka, who still re tains the power of imitating, sings, forever sings, imitating every sound he hears, even to the wail of the infant, and, funning every possible combina tion of his own contriving, hoping to discover his lost and loved Neroyah. His lonely and loving heart prompts him to make night melodious with his music, aud often the nightiugale joins him in the sad refrain ; he sings softly, bends his head, and listens—it is not the voice of his lost love, aud with a despairing cry, he soars away into the vast uukuown. “ VißfiiNius,” of the Boston Sunday Times, \is writing some interesting and amusing papers ou “Dramatic Memo ries,” from which we make the follow ing extract: Junius Brutus Booth was once play ing a brief engagement in the north of England, and opened in his favorite, Kiug Richard. The manager, who expected a full house, resolved to take the money himself and resign his char acter of King [Henry to another actor, simply announcing himselffor the small partofTyrrel, who appears in tbefourth act, which he thought he might play by the help of a black coat without be ing absent from the pay office more than a few minutes. But it unfortunately happened that the play acted shorter than usual, and the half-price people, who were let in at nine o'clock, could not gain admittance until the middle of the fourth act, the time Tyrrel had to go on the stage. The clock struck nine, the rush was tremondous, half crowns and shillings tumbled in by hundreds. The manager was called for the stage. “ I can't come,” he replied. “ What is to be done ?” said the prompter. “Send some one else for the part." “ There is no one disengaged.” “ Then do it your self.” “ I play Catesby. and he is on the same scene,” replied the prompter. “ Then make John, the new property man, do it; tell him he has only to say yes and no.” The fatal scene came. - Booth spoke his soliloquy on the death of the young princes with admirable effect, and while doing so the industri ous prompter seized the unfortunate John, an ignqrant Yorkshire clown, who had only seen the inside of a thea tre forthreedays, and tellinghim it was a part of his duty, and that he had only to say yes, or no every time Mr. Booth stopped speaking, thrust him on the stage. Booth, somewhatstartledby the strange appearance of the man before him, put the question—“ Now, my Tyr rel, how are the ibrats disposed ? Hast thou dealt upon’em?” John, frightened out of his senses, re mained silent. “Speak,” said the prompter.* “Yes,” said John. “But did’st thou see them dead?” “No.” “Yes,” from the prompter, “Yes,” echoed the Yorfesnireman. “And buried, my good Tyrrel ?” “Yes," said John, who had recovered his courage. “ And buried ? ” repeated Btioth. “ Yes, by Gum, I told thee bo before.” Booth, scarcely disconcerted, paused for a second, and then went on— “ I have it—get thee a spade and dig them up again. Then get aooffin full of holes,” &c. The audience, who perceived the joke,' 7 laughed immoderately, and Booth thrust Yorkshire John from the stage, amidst the applause of the whole thea tre. It was his first and last appearance, for the next day John was non eat in ventiMt THE BURDEU MURDER. A Terrible Mystery Solved—who Killed Dr. Bardell ?—The Question Answered After 12 Years Waiting. The New York World contains a long account of the efforts of Detective Jinks to capture a man named Jefferds, who was suspected of having committed two or three murders. The detective ingra tiated himself with his victim, became his boon companion for several months, and pumped him of many of his secrets. The writer of the World article says : Jefferds was always exceedingly boastful, aud did not hesitate to talk freely about his connection with the Walton-Matthew affair; aud indeed on his first introduction to Jinks he said: “Why you must have heard of me—l'm the fellow that they had up for shooting Walton and Matthews—my jiame is Charles Jefferds—l’m the same fellow/ He evidently considered the danger past and gooe, so far sis he was concerned — he had no idea that itw&s even contem plated to interfere further with him. Looking ou himself as asort of hero, he liked to most of ibe notoriety. Jefferds hadfrequently made threats against the surviving brother of the two’ Waltons. On one occasion he went to his place, and drew his pistol, and was taking steady, deadly aim, which in a second more would have added another to his list of murders, when biaarm was struck up, and the crime prevented. It was passed off as a senseless freak of a drunken man. At last, after the -of ficer bad been with him night and day for three months, and had laid all the wires which were to produce the final explosion, it was deemed best to spring the trap. Jefferds had become so bold in his threats towardsthe other Walton and others, and was known to be so ut terly reckless iu his attempts to carry out ins words, that it was tnought best for the public safety to put him under restraint, and not to wait until he had sent another victim to his long account. Accordingly, Superintendant Kennedy gave the word, aud officer Jefferson Jinks was instructed to make proper ar rangements for quetly effecting the cap ture. The gentleman then planned an excursion to and through New York with Jefferds,and directed tbatacoupie ofgoodoffioersin citizens’clothes should be ready at a drinking-house known as “ The Store,” in Houston street, at which place Jinks was to produce Jef ferds at a certain hour, wkeu he was to be taken into custody and again locked up to await the movements of his old friend, the District Attorney. It so hap pened that during this last afternoon of his freedom, a few glasses of wine having loosened his tongue, he supplied the full details of adramaofwhichhehadbefore given butthemereoutlines, andtold the man he then considered his dearest friend on earth that it was he, Charles Jefferds, who, unassisted and alone hail, three years before, killed Dr. Bur dell. The story seemed so improbable, that, when first hinted at, the officer had been indisposed to believe it; but as Jefferds developed the details, a long train of corroborating circumstances flashed across the mind of the hearer, and when the recital was con cluded he stood convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt. Jefferds, among his other boasts of crime, was continually talking about his intimacy with women, and here it was that he told first,of his intimacy with the Bur dell family, and more particularly with Mrs. Cunningham. He appears to have been possessed by that well recognized impulse which always seems to seta boy iu love with women older than himself. There is no evidence to show that he was ever criminally intimate with eitlu-r of the Cunningham girls, while his visits to the room of the mother were frequent and always well received. It may have happened thus because the girls were preengaged and always occupi ed with lovers more to their taste ; but as he never spoke of either of them in terms of special admiration, and never in any way exhibited the slightest jeal ously of a tty of the many visitors to the house who devoted themselves especial ly to the young ladies, bis attentions to Mrs. CunniDgham must have been merely a matter of preference. He never discovered the least jealously of any of the girls' lovers, but he did say of Eckel, who was an acknowledged “ friend” of Mrs. Cunningham: “As for that Eckel, he was a ;” then after a mo ment’s thought lie added: “Yes, old Eckel was a , but he didn’t have anything to do with killing old Burdell; I'll say that for him.” Jefl'erds stated to the detective that on the fatal night he was visiting at the Burdell house, and was in the parlor with the young girls, and was playing the banjo for their amusement. The banjo, he said, belonged tohim, andnot to Snodgrass, as had before been stated, Snodgrass being only able to thumb ita little. Dr. Burdell came in and met Mrs. Cunningham, with whom he had a violent quarrel, after which he proceed ed at ouce to his room. Jetlerds then went to the room of Mrs. Cunningham, and hearing from her the particulars of the quarrel, he became much incensed against Burdell, and volunteered to “ go up stairs and do for the old rascal.” In this proposition he was encouraged by Mrs. Cunningham, and he resolved he would do It. Accordingly, drawing a two-edged, slender dagger, •which he habitually carried, aud being informed by her of the exact position of the doc tor's room, proceeded stealthily up stairs. The doctor was seated at his desk, looking over some papers by a singlegas-light. So engaged was he that he did not hear the step of his murder er, and the first intimation he had of danger was a sudden blow, struck from behind, over his shoulder, and aimed at his heart. The blow was instantly repeated, and again reiterated as rapid ly as the nervous energy of the as sassin could the knife. With a single cry of “ murder,” the doom ed man sprang from his chair and grappled with Jeflerds; they strug gled from side to side of the room, overthrowing the chairs and dragging the table out of place, the doctor striv ing to seize the dirk or to hold the mur derous arm, every blow of which was cutting away his life. “At one time,” said Jeflerds, “the old fellow caught my arm and twisted me against the wall, and fora minute I thought he’d be too many for me; but I put my hand against the wall and saved myself from going down, and with the other I reached under and bit him in the kid neys, and that fetched him. It was our fighting about the room that made the blood fly so all about on the walls. The old fellow *vas stronger than I gave him credit for, and we had a mighty tough tumble of it, but you seel had the knife, and I kept all the time jabbing with that, and he bled a great deal, aud that weakened him T suppose. Yes, sir, I did that little job myself.” Then mus ing a minute as if to recall the scene more clearly to his mind, he continued : “ Yes, I did for him, but he fought like the devil; I once thought he’d a got the best o’ me, but the punch in the ribs fetched him.” Here he sat a minute still thinking, then continued: “Did you go into the room? well, you re member the map that hung on the wall —well, they could have found the marks of my hand on that map if they’d looked; once when he nearly turned me, I threw my hand back, and it struck flat against the wall on the map ; that’s the time I thought he’d be too many for me; but the blood weakened him I a’pose, for I soon got him under again, and that’s when I hit him in the ribs 1 and, fetched him,” On this particular point JefFerds al ways dwelt as if the fact that Burdell had been “nearly too many for him” was most deeply impressed on his mind —then, after a minute’s pause, he would add, “but then I hit him under the ribs, and that fetched him.” It would seem that as the blows at first were struck while Burdell was sitting, and were rapidly repeated before he could rise up, the knife probably was stopped by the breast-bone, the collar-bone, and perhaps, the bones of the neck, so that most of the cuts were superficial merely cutting through the skin and outside tissues. It is said that one of the blows which would have proved fatal was struck from above downward, which JefFerds’ description would easily ac count for. Even had a vital part been touched by the weapon at the begin ning of the struggle, it is exceedingly unlikely that immediate death would have ensued. JefFerds himself was, however, convinced that it was the stab in the kidneys that, as he expressed it, “fetched him.” The murder accomplished, Jeffords left the room, and was let out of the house by one of the inmates, by whom all necessary precautions were taken afterward to cover up the tracks of the real murderer and cast suspicion in other directions. Strange as this story seems, it was and is implicitly believed by those high in police authority, and that eminent officer, Inspector James Leonard, who has recently passed away, told the story to the writer as an undoubted fact, ex pressing his perfect belief that young Jeflerds was unquestionably the mur derer of Dr. Burdell, The confession of Jefferds was given to the writer by the officer to whom it was made, and who, not five hours after it was made, took Jelferda into custody, or caused his arrest, ou the charge of committing the doublfe murder of Wal ton and Matthews. Aside from the story of Jeflerds himself, the close inti macy existing betweeu the Walton and CuDni#gham families, aud the thorough similarity in their domestic relations, together with the well-known desperate character of Mrs. Cunningham v are all , strongly corroborative of its trutm. With regard to the well-known reck lessness of Jeflerds with regard to hu man life many stories are told. He habitually weut armed, ami, on tbeslighest provocation, would shoot or cut whoever chanced tu provoke his wrath. On one occasiou, enraged at a fellow clerk, be jabbed a gold pen into his eye, endangering Dot alone the loss of the eye, but the subsequent death of the sufferer from inflammation of the brain. At another time, in Newark, N. J., Jeflerds became enraged in a bar-room about some trivial matter, and in an in stant drew his ready pistol-’and §red. The intended victim savqd, hippaelf, however, by holding up in self a common bar-room chai*/fiffi?ilrick, wooden bottom of which reCfeivud the ball and saved the life of the man. Tn fact, Jeflerds himself declared that he didn’t think so much of killing*a man— he would put any man out of the way for five hundred dollars if he was short,aud wouldn’t get caught at it either. After he was sent to State Prison and found with certainly that his accuser and the principal witness against him was the man whom he had cherished for so long a time, be was wild with rage.aud 9wore if he ever got the opportunity he would kill the officer. The detective was himself so certain of it that he'heard the tidings of the death of Jeflerds witn unmingled satisfaction. In truth, that this young man was as bad, as false, as recklessly criminal a man as the corrupt state of our modern society cau produce, there can not be the slightest doubt. And taking into calm consideration all the circumstances of the murder of Dr. Burdell, and of Jefferd’s confession, and of the known inti macy of the Walton and Cuuniughaui families, he who would doubt that Charles Jetlerds is the criminal, would doubt that the sun had risen merely be cause it was bidden by clouds. The fate of Jeflerds is well known. Put ou trial for the murder of Mr. Mathews, he was convicted, sentenced to imprisonment in the State prison for one year and then to suffer death. Having remained at Sing Siug the appointed year, ami the Governor failing to designate the day for his execution, aud a legal mud dle also occurring as to the legality of the sentence, Jeflerds was still kept in confinement until his counsel could se cure a final disposition of the case. While thus in custody he was murdered inking Sing prison a few months since, by a fellow-convict, which last murder er is now awaiting trial for the filling of the wholesale assassin, whom he bah unwarrantably sent to his last account. And so, at last, after twelve long years of waiting, the veil is lifted from the mysterious Burdell murder, and doubt le»a for a short time public interest will once more centre about the notorious house, No. .‘ll Bond street. I potlerv, discovered on tbeeetate of Lord An kntreeraent or Great Merit. £ uars ,i a ’ lei near Derby. It is figured in A cookery-book, the property of tlie ] r p] le Beliquary, ana is a very interesting last diet of the King of the Sandwich example of tiie period. The decoration Islands, has lately fallen into our hands. 1 js the badge of the ancient lords of the It is a work of great research, and emi- 80 ji 011 w hieh the vessel was made, and uently practical. The first recipe struck , it waB probably designed for castle use. us as cynically written, but yet showing i The lia(l ,, e ls that 0 f the family of Fer degrees of scieutific thought hardly to | ralai p; arl3 of Derby, Ferrara, and N'ot be expected from a cannibal. It is eu- tingham, who heldDuffleld Castle from titled, Ihe Lngliah Sailor ala Maitre : t he time of Henry 111., when the lands d’Hotel. It begins thus: “lake a were confiscated. shipwrecked bailor, not under threef The out'of the way little capital, Oak ami-forty, flour him, and pepper him. ham, has a unique prerogative; it claims Open him down the back, first carelul- a jiorserhue from every noble or royal ly removing his head, theu basteliim—” personage who lodges within its wails, But here, unfortunately, the rest of„ r passes through Its streets, the page is missing, and the rest of the , hl ita ancient Norman hall may be book, being in the New Zealand ancient these iron souvenirsof distiuguisd- Golly-Golly character, has not yet been ; visits, Bome adorned with a coronet, satisfactorily translated by Dreikopf, , an( j marked with the names of donors who hopes, however, in the course of a i f rom q uee n Elizabeth down to Princess year or two, to give the world further victoria. The castle was built by secrets of cannibal cooking. He has, Wakelin de Ferrariis, temp. William I. however, found out that the natives The Smiths’ Company at Chester was prefer the soles of the feet and the llesh- inexistence there long prior 10*1498, ier part of the legs aud back of young ;j Q which year Prince Authur, soa and subjects, not by any means preferring heir of King Henry VII., paid a visit the male. Tarry old boatswains are to t h e quaint old city. The prince’s generally boiled down for soup. Cap* j Worses required to be re*shod, aud the tains, if under sixty, are treated with j 3ervices of Thomas Edyan, master bread crumbs, plum sauce, and lemon t smith, aud senior alderman of the juice. Ship-boys are much relished I Smiths’ Company, were called into re scolloped, and a baby ala Metteruich i 9 quisition ou that duty. This word was said.to require only legality to carry its completed so entirely to the prince’s fame to both the North and South Poles, satisfaction, that he then and there pre- Dreikopf, iu the course of these re- sented to the said Kdyan a silver badge searches, discovered in some old book bearing a shield, on which were en of travels in Sumatra, long before the graved a horseshoe, pincers and ham time of Sir Stamford Ital Ties, a curious mer,surmounted by alleur-de-liscrown, custom obtaining among a cannibal which he granted to be thenceforward tribe there. The tribeiu question never worn by his said master-smith, Thomas let a man live beyond seventy-two with- Edyan, and his successors, the senior out eating him. The way they do it is alderman of the Smiths’ Company, for this: the relatives of the old gentleman eV er. A gravestone, excavated at the invite a large dinner-party chiefly of western end of St. John’s Church, relations, for a certain day and hour, Chester, contained a fleur-de-lis cross, generally selecting some central spot in on either side of which were sculptured a spice wood forest, —a pleasant, shady, a horseshoe and a smith’s hammer and I cosey spot, such as we Euglish people | pincers—clearly commemorative of a would choose for a picnic. j defunct member of the Smith’s Com- They all muster there at the appoint- pany at Cheater, and possibly of that ed time, every man carrying a carved | very Edyan whose workmanship had war club, aud a bag full of pepper, salt ; 80 won the prince’s favor, and lemons. They then, after the usual | T Lord Herbert’s Life of Henry aia f £’a , n n ?SS D W ° f for the purpose, treats the whole matter ?T h ”b„g felted the ladies royahy'lX rveTone i all , : to .Lisle (October l.», lol.n, whither l e health in palm toddy) a fair start, aud ; , d , tb ’ aret run him up and down till lie ,s rather w) d tbe y re n joust y , )0 b f, d warm and tolerably tender. In halfan| an extraordillary banner; the place hour or so (even if the old gen-j b . a , J raised ’ bigh from if b" “t'ed’’ by The tlie S roUllll ■*!». paved ney) lie is sure to tie treea o> the t»l:ick square stones like marble ; younger and more hungry men A vvbUethe b „V S es, to prevent slipping whoop s then, given ami the whole Bb()ti With felt or flocks (the Latii party collected, and sit room the place d are feltro Bive tome^ to)i afler in a rlng-every man, with his leaf of wbicb b ladie3 (hmeed a|l bu „ salt pepper, and lemon by his side his sboeil witl , felt ia ...entioued by knife and fork in his baud, and the leaf Hhal;t^eare , King Lear) . of a lallypot palm fora tablecloth spread 1 L over his knees. Every one then shouts , Aubrey, in his MiscetJumes, says: at the Barae moment, “Dinner time is ‘l-ndertheporeh Church, come. Good night, Mr. .” The lin bufr ° lk ’. J saw a tile with a horse chief mourner runs up the tree, shakes akoe upon it, placed there to hinder the hands with theold party, and dropshim 1 P°wer of witches, though one would down. He is instantly clubbed, and ! imagine that the holy water would have eaten, with “sauce pjquante,” er “sauce j beeusunicient. i hecharmof the horse ala bonne femme.” Such is the re- shoe !ies m its being forked, audpre markablecustomof this very interesting i renting two points. Thus, Herrick in p eo pj e> j his Hespendes, savs • Horrible as cannibalism is, we cannot philosophically regard »t as proving devil-worship or utter degradation. It has only arisen from a craving for ani mal food in islands like New Zealand, far from the main-land, where the few indigenous animals had been eaten out. When the pig and horse were first intro duced into New Zealand, there was not asingle quadruped existing in the island butsome sort of small rat. By eating only enemies taken in battle aud slain in hot blood, the New Zealand philoso pher probably firstreconciled thematter to his conscience, and conquered the natural repugnance of man to such food, which is, however, said by the natives to almost exactly resemble pork, and is therefore generally known to them by the agreeable metonymof “ Long Pig." A Singular Superstition of Steamboat Steamboatmen, or at least a portion of them, have a superstition that when an accident befalls a steamer that two others of a similar nature are sure to follow, making the mystic number three. Recent events present singular coincidences. In December the United States and America were destroyed by fire. The same night the D. M. Sochler was burned. A few months ago the J. P. Webb sunk on the falls, and was fol lowed by the Le Claire and Falls City, making in each instance the fatal num ber. A few nights ago the Mittie Ste phens was burned on Red river; Wed nesday the Glendale caught fire, and only by-almost superhuman exertions was her total. destruction prevented. What steamer is to fill the fatal comple ment of the fire fiend ? —Louisville 'Courier-Journal, Feb. 19. The AllertonSchool,Honse, near Carlisle, Pa., was blown down yesterday. Only the teacher and two children were in it at the time, and they were not seriously injured. A Chapter on Horseshoes. The Romans shod their horses though not in the same way as we do. Their pedilium lapped over, and therefore oc casioned a rattling sound. Wlnekle mahn has published a drawing of a Roman gem, showing one man holding up the foot of the horse, and another man shoeing it. An iron horse Bhoe is 'mentioned byAppian; but shoes (carbatime) made of raw hides were, as ■ Afistotle and Pliny attest, put upon . camels in the time of war and during ; long journeys. Nero is said by Seuto -1 nius, to have shod hia|mules with silver. 1 Plluy records of Poppiee, the Empress ’ of Nero, that she used gold for the same j purpose. These shoes had probably the : upper part only formed of the precious , metals, or perhaps they were plated out ' of thin slips. Iq the horseshoes found in the Ger man barrows, says Fosbroke, the Bhoes project not downward, but upward. At in Norfolk, were fouud Ro man urus, and a horseshoe of uncom mon form —round aud broad iu front, □arrowing very much backward, and having its extreme ends almost brought close behind, and rather pointing in ward, with the nail holes still perfect. An early instance of nails iu horse shoes is furnished by one of a horse buried with Childeric 1., who died LSI, which was fastened with nine nails (Arehmologia, iii. 3o). Du Cange and Carew mentioned the custom of only shoeing the fore feet. La Brocquiere describes the Oriental horseshoes as be ing very light, rather lengthened to wards the bee), and thinner there than at the toe. They were not turned up, aud had but four nail holes, two upon each side. The nails weresquare, with a thick and heavyfhead. The present mode of shoeing horses was introduced into this country by the Normans, at the time of the Conq.uest. The Britous had been taught the use of them by the Romans, but their pedolan were probably considered too clumsy to be adopted by the Saxons. The Franks in the ninth century, and probably also the Normans, shod their horses in win ter only. 1 ft may be mentioned, en passant, that the male horse only was ridden by our knights and people of any distinction in the Middle Ages; and that to ride a mare was always looked upon as a de gradation. This was either a religious superstition, or an old Teutonic preju dice. Iu the thirteenth century, horses were obtained from Turkey and Greece, ami at a later period from Barbary. The lord rode the destrier, or war-horse ; the lady, the palefroi, or pelfrey; the ser vant, the roncin ; and the luggage was carried by a sommier, or sumpler. White horses were most prized, after them dapple-gray, and bay or chestnut. It is curious to rind that, in l l:F>, the Queen of Navarre gave carrots to her horses. Tile ordinary price of horses in England, in the reign of F.dward 1., was from one to ten pounds. When St Louis returned to France from hi 9 cap tivity, the Abbot of Cluny presented to the King and Queen each a horse, the value of which Joiuville estimated at live hundred livers—equal to aboutfour hundred pounds of our present English mouey. Feats of horsemanship were much practised ; one of these was to jump into the saddle in full armor : No loot FHzjamfcfi in stirrup staid, No urusp upon t lie saddle laid, But wreathed Ills left hand In the mane, And lightly bouuded irorn the plain. Horses were frequently given as bribes. The widow of Herbert de Mes n il gave King John of England a palfrey to obtain the wardship of her children; . aud one Gollrey Fitz Richard gave the | same monarch a palfrey for a concession i in the forest of Beaulieu, i »A large pitcher, ornamented with 1 horseshoes, was found in a Norman “ llaug up hooks and sheers, to scare Hence the hig mat rises the mare, Till they be all over wet With the mire and with the sweat, This observed, the manes Khali be Of yourhoraes all knot-free.” Even the two forefingers held out apart, are thought ro avert evil eye, or prevent the machinations of the lord und master of the nether world. The pentacie, or seal of SolomoD, is supposed to possessgreat power, as being composed of two tri-angles presentiag six forked ends, and therefore called pentacie erroneously. Mr. Timbs states, that when MoDmout street was a fashionable locality of Lon don, it was noted for its number of horseshoes nailed over the doorways or ou the sill. In 1813, Sir Henry Ellis counted here 17; in 1.841, there were 7; but in 18-32, there were 11; now there are fewer. Nelson had great faith in the horseshoe, and one was nailed to the mast of the ship Victory. “Lucky Dr. James,” attributed the success of his fever powder to his finding a horse shoe, which he adopted as the crestupon his carriage. A horseshoe is very con spicuous at the gate of Meux’s Brewery at the corner of Tottenham Court Road, and on the trappings of the horses at the establishment. The lucky belief in the horseshoe may have led to its having been adopted as the ornamental portion of a scarf pin. Messrs. Larwood aDd Hotten, in their History of Sign-boards, state that the horse-shoe by itself is comparatively a rare sign. The three horse-shoes, how ever, are not uncommon ; and thesingie shoe may be met with in many combi nations, arising from theold belief in its lucky influences. The sun and horse shoe is still a public-house sign in Great Titchfield street; and the magpie and horse-shoe may be seen carved in wood in Fetter Lane,—the magpie perched within the horse-shoe, and a bunoh of grapes being suspended from it. NUMBER 9 An ImciMtlDK Ciue-WtiAt Is Sarrlagp? Yesterday, in the Supreme Court, Justice Agnew rendered a decision in a case which, in its various shapes, has been pending in the Court for about live years. It came before the Supremo Court upon the appeal ot Mrs. Catharine Vincent from the decision of the Orphans’ Court, denying her an issue to test her marriage with Mr. Do Amarelli, deceased. The facta of the case present In some degree a romance, Catbarino Evans, an humble Irish girl, then about sixteen years of age, leaving her parents, came to ihe United Suites in ISSI, aud lived for u time with an aunt in this city, sometimes going out to service and sometimes learning to 6ew, and mar ried the testator, us all her relatives believed, in IvSoS. 'Vincencio Do Amarelli, sometimes called an Italiau and sometimes n Frenchman, came to the United States, from Hosanno, in the kingdom of the Two Sicilies, m the year ISoO. A well-born gentleman, of edu cation and culture, a prolessor ol'the Italian lauguuge and literature in the L uiversity of Pennsylvania, of forty-four years of age, associating with gentlemen ami mingling in the best society, he was proud of ins po siliou aud jealous of his reputation. He formed an intimacy, as the sequel has proved, with this humldo Irish girl, aud soon afterwards recognized her as his wife. His manner of recognition caused all the difficulty after hiH death. The marring©, it is alleged, took place in May, ISAS, and about this time, us “ Mr. Vincent,” he so cured for his wife n bnardtng house, with a lady, who inquired IT they were man and wile, inasmuch as Mr. Do Amaroiluwus at the house ou Sundays only, and two or three times a week In reply 10 this query he proposed to produce witnesses or proof, and did subsequently exhibit a certificate in Latin, containing, however, in his own handwriting uu endorsement, ihAt this was the certificate of her marriage. De Amarelli remained at nis own board ing house, and visited Mrs. Vincent during the week. Two children were born, and the witnesses who saw iho parties together re presented that he appeared very fond of Mrs. Vincent and the children. -When one of the children died, while he was at a watering place, he wrote atlccrion-ito let ters to Mrs. Vincent as “ Dear I'atharine,’’ and telling her that he loved her “ more and more,” bidding tier not b> grieve for the death ** of my dear < ieorge,” and urg ing that ho was now in Paradise and among the angels. Among the visitors and friends of Mrs. Vincent at her own home, it was alleged that Mr. De Amarelli never denied tin* tact of marriage. He died at his boarding house, in Is(>4, and by his will lelt s:?,unO to “ Mrs. Catherine Vincent,” the name Vincent be ing written alter an erasure “ Evans. * When the executors sought out Mrs. Vin cent, they heard for the lirsl time, in com mon with Mr. De Amarelli's other friends, that ho was married. Mrs. Vincent, who did not know the hurt of her husband's death until after the burial, immediately presented her eluim to be recognized as the widow, and her surviving child to be con sidered the son of the deceased. The Au ditor refused to re cognize the claim, because in his view, the marriage was not establish ed, and in this lie was sustained by the* Orphans’ Court, and hence lie* ap[**al to the Supreme Court. Judge Aguew, in an elaborate opinion, reviews all the testimony uml the argument advanced by the auditor in support of ins position. Judge Agnew contends that the double life led by Mr. De Amarelli wusdue to the fact that be thought it m cessary, m order to retain his standing in society, ami also retain his pupils ami his pride;.and fear of disclosure led him to change his name when he appeared to talco boarding with his wife. The same* dread of the frowns of the world and of the taboo of society would lead to a private marriage. The same reasons would be used to satisfy the mind of a simple girl, who, content lo be the wile ot one so high, so elegant, and apparently devoted to her, would bo willing to trust him and serve aim, as she did to the best of her powers, and thus live, as it were, half apart from him. lii.s pruiession us a teacher of languages and the class of pupils he must reach to make his living, -were of themselves sufficient to excuse In m to her, while his exceeding penuriousness led him to appear to her poorer than lie was, and will account lor many acts otherwise attributable to a different motive. Defer ence is made to the fact that there was not a breath of evidence to sully her reputation, and the Judge closes as follows* “ If there shall be no presumption in fa vor of virtue; if a woman can for years repose upon the bosom and beur ehildreu to one who acknowledges her as his wife, expresses towards her the affection of a husband, and, then death lakes from them their child, endeavors to comfort her with his sympathy, with the consolations ot re ligion and the hope of a happy reunion in lleayen; if all these tilings can be, uud without strong evidence, nay with but sus picion for proof, wo must pronounce that woman not a wife and her children illegiti mate, then there is a foundation upon which the learned Auditor could build uphis con trolling conclusion that the relations of these purties began improperly. ' - Upon the whole evidence, we are clearly of opin ion in this case, that the proof of marriage is sufficient, and that the circumstances re lied on ns disproving the presumption are too weak and inconclusive in view of the explanation furnished by thecircuinstances themselves. Marriage, followed by tb* birth of issue, lies at the very base of the social fubric and of all good morals, and looking at the consequences to society, we feel unwilling to suffer an acknowledged marriage and parentage of children to be overthrown by weak and inconclusive rea sons drawn from conduct readily explained by the circumstances of the parties. Mys tery may surround its origin, suspicion may linger in its circumstances and slight doubt disturb its clearness, but the policy of the State demands that the relation should not be lightly discredited. This is necessary in mis couuirv where marriage is a civil contract and often unattended r>y ceremony or performed by a single officiul witness. The decree of the Orphans’ Court is re versed upon the appeal of Catharine Vin cent, in her own right, and as guardian of William Henry Vincent, and this Court now tinds and decrees that Vincent De Amarelli and Catharine Vincent, the ap pellant, were married and living in Jawtul wedlock at the time of aud before his death, and that William Henry Vincent in the le gitimate issue and one of the lawful rep resentatives of said decedent, and the record is ordered to be remitted to.the Orphans’ Co-firt, with direction to proceed and to distribute the estate of the decedent to and amODg the persona entitled to the same, according to law, and the costs are ordered to be paid out of the estate. Justice Head dissented from the opinion of the Court.— l’/ulu. Ledger. GranL'x Opinion ol the Tcuiirc of Cilice Wash inotox, I->h. lift. A number of protniuent New Yoric bank ers called on Mr. Grunt this morning, uud had quite a protracted interview with him. rn answer to a remark that an economical administration was expected, < Irani said: “ It is my desire that the ulTair.s m the coun try should be conducted as economically as possible, and I will try to have it so. We all know wiiat the tenure-of-ofllre bill was enacted for. It was passed to prevent an Kxeculive from using the ollices at his dis posal for corrupt purposes, but from what they did in Congress, yesterday, I am dis posed to think that the Senate will desire to be judges as to what I shall do.” After a pause, ho continued : “ Well, if they do not repeal the law, I certainly cannot make any changes. I cannot remove a man with out making charges of a character which would blast his reputation, and that would not be very agreeable, you know, and the result will be that men who bold office will continue to hold them until the end of the term, no matter wiiat my desires may be. Of course this will save all this office bunting and boring.” One of the gentle men remarked ; “ That will be very agree able, do doubt.” Grunt continued : “Yes, but I have no doubt that there aro those in office who should bo removed if it is the wish to economize. However, the Senate evidently desires to be judge of theirs.” A gentleman : ** That will throw the respon sibility upon luem.” Grunt continued: " I don’t know, ut any rate•! will do the best 1 can.” Here the interview ended Later in the day Grant, in the presence oi several gentlemen, stated that he would send to the Senate the name of General Schofield us Secretary of War, but Scho field will probably decline, preferring to return to his okl position in the army, in which case a civilian will be nominated for the position. Grant added that be wanted the Senate to know this. IJe said he was opposed to appointing officers of the army and navy to civil offices, and thereiore wants a civilian at the head of each depart ment. This statement is vouched for by members of Congress present. Frightful Velocipede .Accident. From the Cincinnati Commercial. George Grier, having a desire to learn to ride the velocipede, engaged one of tho rna chines at the Miller Brothers’ Velocipede School that evening, and under the tuition of young Mr. Miller began. Ife proved to bo a very apt pupil, and, having made the circuit of the large room several times with the assistance of his teacher, was anxious to try it alone. Mr. Miller acquiesced and gave the novice a-good start. The lad ran the machine eight or ten yards very skill fully, but after that distance had been gone , over the velocipede became uuuianugeubJe in his bands, and made for a largo hatchway in the middle of the room, l’bo machine going ut full speed ran aguinst the wooden guard uround the opening, crashed through the boarding, und precipituted the rider to the cellar of the building, four stories and a half beneath. His wounds are considered dangerous, but not necessarily fatal. Dr. Schooppe has been committed for trial at Carlisle, Pa., on the charge of hav ing poisoned Miss Steinecke, BATE OF ADVERTISING. Business ADVK&TiaEiuczrrs, $l2 a year per qnare_of tea lines; ft) per year for each ad ditional square. REAL Estate ADvransiNCb 10eenU> line for the drat, and soents for each subsequent In sertion. General Advehtising 7 cents a lino for the flrst, and 4 cents for each subsequent Inser tion. • Special Notices Inserted In Local Column IS cenu per line. SPBOiAif Non cks preceding marriages and deaths, 10 cants per line for first Insertion and 6 oents for every subsequent Insertion; liSOix Aim ora kb notices— Executors’ notices....... Administrators’ notloes, ....... Assignees’ notices, ... 2.60 Auditors’ notices 2.00 Other “Notices,'’ ten lines, or less, Z three times 1.50 £cpl gotins. Estate of ani>bew mevvako lat« of Lancaster city, rtec’ri —Letters of auioloiblratloa ou said estate havlug been granted to tne undersigned alt persouH Indebt ed therein, are requested t>> make immediate settlement, and loose having -•'aim- or do* mauds against the Rarae, will present thorn without delay for Keith moot to the uudersign ed, residing In said city. CATHARINE STEWARD, Aduilutstr-'rix. Ja 27 Otw 4 i ESTATE OF JOHN P. Fil l , I.ATE OF J Lancaster cit*, deo-osed I etu i.. testa mentary on *ald estate having i-ecu granted to ttio unaera:gutMl, all persons u-de.led luerelo, are rquestea to make Immediate i.citi* ment, ami loose havlug claims nr < tinuid.s against the same, will present them wli out delay for seltJeuiont to lue undersigned residing In said c **>\ . , „ LOU IdA MV KHS. felOUtwG Executrix. Estate of jim.\ w. mint. i.vte of Lauenster city, Lancaster county. dccM. Letters Testamentary the undersigned, on p.-rsou* indented thereto me requestr FA late of Henry Ki elder, of Eden (ownhip, Lancaster touuiy Henry Krelder, of Eden iwp.. Having by deed of voluntary assignment, dated February 3rd, Will, assigned and trans ferred all his estate and elleds lottio Creditors of ihe uudrralgned. lor tiiu heuetU of the said Henry Krelder, they inerefore g've noi Icc to all perse us indebted in said assignor to make payment without ih lay, aud ihusu hu> lug claims to present I hr rn in MARTIN K. KREIDEU, Residing In Lsiu-uster cily. DA MEL D HEMS, Uesldtuy lu Eden iwp., Assignees. feb JI fltw S) ASHIUjrKF.'S NOTICE.—ASSIGNED E.N taie of Joseph Kmedley and wile, of pul ton 1 wp.. Laricaater county. Joseph Kiuullex nnd wile, of Fulton twj*., having by deed ol voluntary assignment. dated lliuiuii id Febru ary puti, an-lgm-d ami I raiisleri ed all their es tii n and ellects to the umUrKlgtied, tor the belictll id lliu nredlloi* ot Urn said Joseph Kmedley; he t iierefon* gives nonce lr> all per hgiin Indebted to sahl assignor, to make pay ment tu the undm-tgiied wllimu: delay, ami those having claims to present thorn. lehJ7-t>l\v7 llAltVEl SWIFT, .Wdghee. Residing lu Fulloti twp., Lancuhicr co. itSTAIT. OF i'll KIN lIA A It HANOI', i late of Kiiptm township, dtrceiihed. The on* (lets fined Auditor, uppoluUd to dlstrlinne ttm balance remaining In thelmiuLs ot Chris tian Brand t. Executor of said Christian 11 mud I, deceased, to a i«l among those legally .lUtltle.a to the same, will sit lor that puiqiobe on Fri day, March I'Jlh, ut V! o'clock P. M., In the Li brary Room of the Court I Lais.-, m Urn City ol Lunc.ster. where sll per-ons tnierrsb'd In said distribution may Hlluml. AM UK 11. M VLIN, Amlllor febl7-Uw7 EASTERN linrRHT OF I*KN AN Y !.• VA.NIA, sB., in Uaulmiplry, at Pliliudel ptna, .Itwinmiy i'Jd, Ism». Die utulenOgned hereby gives notice ot tils appointment as As signee oi Clement It. Poits, ..f the borough ol Munch Chuuk, In the County of Carbon mid Slate of Pennsylvania, wllhlu said dlsliicL, who has been ailludged a Hunkrapt on his own petition by the I dslrlct i ourt of said DtMrle.. To (he cred ilnrs of Held Ban It rapt. Hubertq. butler, Asslgno. . Munch Chunk, Pa , Feb. 1", 'C'-lT- U .v-7 Accofstn OF THl’N'l’ estates. .h . The accounts of the following named es tates will be presented lor contlrmuimn on MON I. AY, MARCH la, lMil): Michael Miller’s Estate, John Miller, Com millee. Lean Wuchtcr's l-Istat •.Kaniuel hborty.Com mlttee. BenJ. l». Herr’s Estate, Then. W. Herr, Coin mltlee. Cyrus O. Mohn's Estate. K.U. Mohn, et. al Asslguee. Jacob K. Landis’ F..Htntc, John Miller, et. nt Committee. W. L. BEAR, Prnttionotary. Prolhouotnry’s Urtlce, Fen. ill. isuu. 117--H gry ©ooa*. g P HI N O , 1 8 0 0 1 GLASSWARE. FRENCH. CHINA AND ENGLISH GRANITE WARE, now opening at 11AGEK (i I X 0 S , In Plain Tints, Walnut. Oak, Marble Frescoe, Stamped Gold. ShUur and Blanks for Halls Parlors, I.lbrailes, Dlnim* Hoorn* and Chambers. Choice New Fresco Designs lor STORES AND PUBLIC HAMA Patent Mktal for securing Paper au Unst Damp Walls. Cal! Mid examine. HAG KK *V J'.KlVmilKH. CARPETS! ENGLISH BRUSSELS, URO-H LEY'S T A PEH* TRY BRUSSELS, LOWELL A HARTFORD TH KKE-PLY, IN GRAIN AN l) VEN ETI A N WOOL DUTCH, HEMP A RAG CAKPKTH. Velvet Ruga and Main, WonLHurdeml Cocnu iind Jute Door Mats. FLOOR OIL CLOTHS, New Desigoe, All Wlillhe. corn A AND CHINA MATTINGS. WINDOW SHADES AND HOLLANDS, In Full AfiKortment HAGER A BROTHERS. feb iu:itwo| lustra! instruments, &c. gOMETIIINtt NEW I WOODWARD'S PIANO FORTH AND OR. GAN WARE-KOOMS, No. 20 East King Street, Lancaster, Pa. The largest, establishment ot ttio kind In Lancaster, and one ot the Urg> >-t In the The finest assortment of Instruments over of fered lo the public In thin ciiy aud county. Pianos, Organs, Sheet tf itslc^Btislo Boobs, Ac., Ac Chirkrring <£ Haine* Jiro.'x /'irincM Mason 4 Hamlin’s Cabtuel and MetropoiHan Onr facilities are such that we ran now af ford to supply our customers with Instruments at rates as low as they can be pureba-ed of I In* manufacturers. Our new Warurooms, situated at No. ISJ East Klngatreet, opposite Sprerlirr’s Ezoauge Hotel, over Brenner