She pmrMtM Intrtttgtnttv, \ PUBLISHED EVSET WSDUBBDAT BT H. G. SMITH d CO H. G. Smite TERMS—Two Dollars per annum, pa7ftl in all eases In advance. , Tnn LANCASTER DAILY IkTELLIOEWCBB published every evening, Sunday excepted; $5 per Annum In advance. OFFlCE—Southwest cobweb or cj 3 HU abb. fochtj. THE FIBE BY THE SEA. BY ALICE GAEY. There were sovoti Ushers with nets In their hands. Ami they walked ami talked by the seaside sands; Yet sweet as the sweet dew-fall The words they spake, though tuey apttiio so Idw, ‘ Across the long, dim centuries How. ,Aud we kuuw them, one and all— Aye! know them and love them *ll. Haven sad men In tho days of old, And one wuagentle, and one was bold, And thoy walked with downward eyes; The bold was Peter, the gentle was John, And they ail were sad. tor the Lord was gone, And they knew not If be would rise— Knew not if the deud would riso. The live-long night, till the moon went out, iu the drowning water*, they boat about; lleatslow through the logs their way ; A ud I ho sails drooped ilowu with ringing v. r And no man drew but an empty net, Aud now ’Lwas the break ot the uny— The great glad break or i be day. •Cast ymi; t els on the other side’’— t’Twius Jtsus speuklng across tlio tliltl— And they erst, aud were dragging hard; Hut that disciple w hum Jesus loved Cried s' wight aay out,lor h 1 ■; heart was moved: “It Is our risen Lord— Our Master, uud our Lord l" Then Simon, girdiDg his Usher’s coat. Went over the nets and out ot Hi-: boat - Aye! ilrstni them all wan lie; Kepon ling sore tho dsulul past, lie leared no looger his heart tu cast . Llko an anchor into lliq sea— Down deep in ihe hungry tea. And the others, Lhtout'll the mists u> uim, iu a little ship camealier nlm, Dragging their mt thr-'-ugh the tide ; And when they hud gotten close to th.- land They saw a Uru of coals In the sand, And, with arms ol love so wale, Jesus, the c ucilkd ! \Hs Jong and long, and long iigo Meco too rosy lights h tguii to thiw O’er ibe hlllsot Da'lir e; And with eager eyts and lifted hand:. The seven Ushers sn w on I he sands Tho lire of coals by the sou— On tho wet, wild hands by the sea. ' I'ls long ago, yet faith !u our touls Is kindled Inst, by that lire of coals That streamed o't r tin- mists of Hi" : e.i Where Peter, girding his iKher'se-ml, Wentover the net and outol tlio boat, To answer, “ Luv’st tliuu me " ’i hrleo over, “ LovVt thou ir.o? ” F.u iis Allan i;i; bvi.i »iv JONH'S mu:res iikown, umjiu', .m.tiit in Ilavlu heard .hi big Loss radle.iih a u,u>.:u;d times do i.ir D.it da black folks and do while fok s v. as per /.ackly on a nar. At dare word 1 ’sol. el to take em, and so J maile a call On da emits <:m puddled tick-. U fur (Hunt's ’naugurul ion bull. Hey was '-ellln ’H>r a t-ihh-, looittn iiilfy proud and sMlt, An’ dereclily dls chile show hosoll, dey ul lie gun tu miur, ■~'es da eheeiman, “ Who at<• ;i,;i i i.alr:' 1 s-s T, “ A man and Imidd.-r Hut ho Hlmelc his head ns if Im •‘meant, "I’m il imticil If you am, midder." Hi'S I. “’Hcu.se me, my- good boKsev, I don't mean no nth nee, I'm a wool-dyed black ltepublic.m, In-do berry sti uugest sense; Ami me uud my .old ’nun.an—nbe'h Jam up at iieol and toe To your 'nnugurutPm breakdown, h v' <• ,n -ydooded wo will go. Don I hauls out iwognod flveis, but says Hkenk, “ My nigger friend, Dot: your knller and yuur prlnclplrs N quite a recotumoud, Uut you sou dls ling I: pt l vit ; w..’re p'tasod to huv you call. Hut wo keuuot sell you I 'ukets, not di: no nc. count at all.” Turnin' up dur 'lcbui no: is, dtyali moHoued to do door, Aml one whisper• j j . miscus sr>r< e; Nabs* loufevs. b-dlec, and skullvw:*!; >, all goln’ it togcdiler, L ko buttertlles and tuiubli r-huga, and hop loads In a nn-dJcr. Do ladles Uey waslm-sild round, da;e skarts aud punlers loi ed, I’f* gjmmou Just d ir hats and sacks, :.nd some ot ’em was (loured ; Aud slick a UgUt lor oysters, creams, honed turkey and champagne. aim hop“H, for human miter s sake, he’ll neb see again. I'm boriy glnd we dld-.r: go, hiich rows don’t correspond Wlv do refined and hutiful of Afrlci’s bo mond. ALkullard parlies all de gents am quiet and and polite Do blade elect don't lower di nisei ves to skram l)lo like do white. • Downlug a:i.! !:<>k< r .icy i — dey didu't sluuiM- iU; r:i< i Hy try in at dc pi-ire. I.‘i*y tumid Jo i ysitiH (or d« liaiJ, aud tlro«L de iml II'; Ini h*, Kill ills chi Ip in n Jo! ml !o s:.y Jat milker yellt ".van d.i :i:d p'M.wovr lo occupy a And now my l.roM en l.ir tunl iiuar, I clodo wul til* ri.lint! It, Keep yoursolvc* nlluyHio with your o * n l?ni;.T ir, AUtl linn*:. J< t urn ion ici yuur wives mill rool; •\* do h-’i-l |.m u giJH'h ii :.d sheep, yuu mnst pa l d.- Inr :i»d w-.-.l —.lrsirt ilium's llrowk, %. gUsccUuncmic. flic Secret or the Two Plaster Casts. Years before the accession of her Ma jesty Qu.'en Victoria, uml yet at not so remote a date as to be utterly beyond the period to which the reminiscences of our middle-aged readers extern!, it liappeneil that two Fnglish gentlemen sat at table on a summer’s e veniug, after diuner, quietly sipping their wine and engaged m desultory conversation. They were both men known to fame. One of them was a sculptor whose statues adorned the palaces of princes, and whose chiselled busts were the pride of half the nobility of his nation ; the other was no less renowned as an anatomist and surgeon. The age of the anatomist might have been guessed at fifty, but the guess would have erred on the side of youth by at least ten years. That of the sculptor could scarcely be more than llve*aud«Lhlrty. A bust of tbe anatomist, so admirably executed as to present, al though in stunt*, the perfect similitude oflife and ilesh K stood upon a pedestal opposite to the table ut which sat the pair, and at once explained at least one connecting link of companionship be tween them. Theanatomist was exhib iting for the.criticism of iiis friend a rate gem which he hail just drawn from his cabinet; it was a crucifix, magnifl .‘eoutly carved in ivory, and incased in a setting of pure gold. “ The carving, my dear sir, ,J observed Mr. Fiddyes, the sculptor, "is indeed, as you say, oxquisue. The muscles are admirably made out, the llesh well modelled—wonderfully so for the size and material; and yet—by-the-by, on this point you must know more than J —the more X think upon the matter, the more I regard the artistic conception as utterly false and wrong.” “You speak in a riddle, replied Dr. Camell; “hut pray goon, and explain.” “ It is a fancy 1 first had in my stu dent days,” replied Fiddyes. “ Con ventionality, not to say a most proper and beeomiug reverence, prevents peo ple by no means ignorant from consid ering the point. But once think upon It, and you at least, of all men must at once perceive how utterly impossible it would be for a victim nailed upon a cross by hands and feet to preserve tbe position invariably displayed iu figures of the Crucifixion. Those who so por tray it fail in whatshould be their most awful and agouiziug effect. Think for one moment, and imagine, if you can, what would be the attitude of a man, living or dead, under this frightful tor ture.” “You startle me,” returned the great surgeon, “not only by the truth of your remarks, but by their obviousness. It is strange, indeed, that such a matter should have so long been overlooked. The more I think upon it, the more the bare idea of actual crucifixion seems to horrify me—though Heaven knows I am accustomed enough to scenes of suf fering. How would you represent such a terrible agony?” “Indeed, I can’t tell,” replied the sculptor; “to guess would be almost vain. The fearful straiu upon the mus cles, their utter helplessness and inac tivity, the frightful swellings, the effect of weight upon the racked and tortured sinews, appal me too much even for speculation.” “But this,” replied the surgeon, might think a matter of importance, not only to art, but, higher still, to re ligion itself.” “Maybe so,” returned the sculptor. “But perhaps the appeal to the senses through a true representation might be too horrible foreither the one or the other.” “Still,” persisted the surgeon, “I should like—say for curiosity—though I am weak enough to believe even in my motive os a higher one—to ascertain the effect from actual observation.” “ So should I could it be done, and of coursewithcfutpaintothe object, •vyliioh, as a condition, seems to present at the outset an impossibility.” “ Perhaps not,” mused the anatomist, “I think I have a notion. Stay—we -!(Die Sanaistev intelligencer. : ta at _ , ■ „ „ VOLUME 70 LANCASTER PA. WEDNESDAY MORNING MARCH 24 1869- NUMBER 12 A. J- STBINM. J may contrive this matter. I will tell you my plan t -andit will be strange in deed if Tve two cannot manage to carry it out'* The discourse here, owing to the rapt attention uf both speakers, assumed a low and earnest tone, but had perhaps better be narrated by a relation of the events to which it gave rise. Suffice it to say that the Sovereign was more than once mentioned during its.progress, and in a manner which plainly told that the two speakers each possessed suffi cient influence to obtain the assistance of royalty, and that such assistance would be required in their scheme. Theshades of evening deepened while the two were still conversing. And leaving the sceno, let us cast one hurried glimpse at another taking place con temporaneously. Between Pimlico and Chelsea, and across a canal of which the bed has since been used for the railway terminating at Victoria Station, thoro was at the time of which we speak a rude timber footway, long since replaced by a more substantial and convenient erection, but then known as the Wooden Bridge. It was named shortly afterwards Cut throat Bridge, and for this reason. While Mr. Fiddyes and I)r. Carnell were discoursing over their wine, as we have already seen, one Peter Starke, a drunken Chelsea pensioner, was mur dering his wife upon the spot we have last Indicated. The coincidence was curious. In those days the punishmentofcrim iuals followed closely upon their con viction. The Chelsea pensioner whom we have mentioned was found guilty on Friday and sentenced to die on the fol lowing Monday. He was a sad scoun drel, impenitent to the last, glorying in the deeds of slaughter which he had witnessed and acted duringtheseriesof compaigns which had just ended previ ously at Waterloo. , He was a tall, well built fellow enough, of middle age, for his class was not then as now, composed chielly of veterans, but comprised man}’ youug meu, just sufficiently disabled to be uuiit for service. Peter Starke, although but slightly wounded, had nearly completed his term of service, and had obtained hja pension and pre sentment to Chelsea Hospital. With his life we have littlo to do, save as regards its dose, which we shall shortly endeavor to describe far more voraci ously, and ut som# greater length than set forth in the brief account which satislled the public of his own day, and which, ns embodied in the columns of the few journals then appearing, ran thus: ‘On Monday last Peter (Starke was executed at Newgate for the Murder at l lie Wooden Bridge, Chelsea, with four others for various offences. After he had been hanging for a few minutes a respite arrived, but although lie was promptly cut down, life was pronounced to be extinct. His body was buried within the prison wnlls.” Tims far history. But the conciseness of history far more frequently embodies falsehood than truth. Perhaps the fol lowing narration may approach more nearly to the facts. A room withiu the prison had been, upon that special occasion and by high authority, allotted to the use of Dr. Car nell and Mr. Fiddyes, thefamoussculp tor, for the purpose of certain investiga tiona connected with art and science. Tn that room Mr. Fiddyes, while wretch ed I’oter Starke was yet swinging be tween heaven and earth, was busily en gaged in arranging a variety of imple ments and materials, consisting of a largo quantity of Plaster of Paris, two largo pails of water, some tubs, and other necessaries of the moulder’s art. The room contained n large deal table, and a wooden cross, not neatly planed and squared at the angles, but of thick narrow, rudely sawnoakeu plank, lixed by throng heavy nails. And while Mr. Fiddyes was thus occupied, the execu- tioner entered, bearing upon his shoul ders the body of the wretehod Peter, which he Hung heavily upon the table. “You are sure he is dead?” asked Mr. Fiddyes. “Dead as a herring,” replied the other. “Aud just as warm aud limp as if ho had only fainted.” “Then go to work at once,” replied the sculptor, as turning his back upon the hangman, lie resumed his occupa tion. “work” was soon done. Peter was stripped and nailed upon the tim ber, which was instantly propped against tl:e wall. “As tine a one as ever I see,” ex claimed the executioner, as he regarded the defunct murderer with an expres sion of admiration, us if at his own handiwork, in having abruptly de molished such a magnificent animal., “Drops a good bit for’ard, though. Shall I tie him up round the waist, sir?” “Certainly not,” returned the sculp tor, “Just rub him well over with this oil, especially his head, and then you can go. Dr. Carnell will settle with you.” “All right, sir.” The fellow did as ordered, and retired without another word, leaviug this strange couple, the living and the dead, in Lhut dismal chamber. Mr. Kiddyes was a man ofstrong nerve in such matters. lie had been too much accustomed to taking posthumous casts to trouble himself with any sentiment of repugnance at his approaching task of taking what is called a “piece-mould” from a body. Ho emptied a number of bags of the white powdery plaster-of- Paris into one of the larger vessels, poured into it a pail of water, and was carefully stirring up the mass, when a sound of dropping arrested his ear. I>rip, tlrij). “There’s something leaking,” he muttered, as he took up a second pail, and emptying it, again stirred the com position. Drip , drip, drip. “It's strange,” he soliloquized, half aloud. “There is no more water, aud yet—” Tho sound was heard again Ho gazed at the ceiling; there was no sigh of damp. Pie turned his eyes to the body, and something suddenly caused him a violent start. The mur derer was bleeding. The sculptor, spite of his command over himself, turned pale. At that moment the head of Starke moved— clearly moved. It raised itself convul aively for. a single moment; its eyes rolled aud it gave vent to a subdued moau of iutense agony. Mr. Fiddyes fell fainting ou the floor as Dr. Carnell entered. It needed but a glauce to tell the doctor what had liappeued,even had not Peterjust then given vent to another low cry. The surgeon's measures were soon taken* Locking the door, he bore a chair to the wall which supported the body of the malefactor. He drew from his pocket a case of glittering instru ments, and with oue of these, so small and delicate that it scarcely seemed larger than a needle, he rapidly, but dexterously and firmly, touched Peter just at the back of the neck. There was no wound larger than the head of a small pin, andyettheheadfellinstantly as though the heart had been pierceu. The doctor had divided the spinal cord, aud Peter Starke was dead indeed. A few minutes sufficed to recall the sculptor to his senses. He at first gazed wildly upon the still suspended body, so painfully recalled to life by the rough veue-section of the hangman and the subsequent friction of anointing his body to prevent the adhesion of the plaster. “ You need not fear now,” said Dr. Carnell; “ I assure you lie is dead.” “But he was alive, sbrely !” “ Only for a moment, and thatscarce ly to be called life—mere muscular con traction, my dear sir, mere muscular contraction.” The sculptor resumed his labor. The body was girt at various circumferences witn fine twine, to be afterwards with drawn through a thick coating of plas ter, bo as to separate the various pieces of the mould, which was at last com pleted ; and after this Dr. Carnell skill fully flayed the body, to enable a second, mould to be taken of the entire figure, showing every muscle of the outer layer. The two moulds were thus taken. It is difficult to conceive more ghastly ap pearances than they presented. For sculptor’s work they were utterly use less ; for no artist except the most dar ing of realists would have ventured to indicate the horrors which they pre sented. Fiddyes refused to receive them. Dr. Carnell, hard and cruel as he was, for kindness’ sake, in his profession, was a gentle, genial father of a family of daughters. He received the casts, and at once consigned them to a garret, to which he forbade access. His youngest daughter, one unfortunate day, during her father’s absence, was impelled by feminine curiosity—perhaps a little in creased by tb4 prohibition—to enter the mysterious chamber. Whether she imagined in the pallid figure upon the cross a. celestial rebuke for herdisobedience,orwhetherßhe was overcome by the mere mortal horror of one or both of those dreadfal casts, can now never be known. But this is true; she became a maniac. The writer of this has more than once seen (as, no doubt, have inany others) the plaster effigies of Peter Starke, after ‘their removal from Dr. Carneil’s to a famous studio near the Regent’s Park. It was there that he heard whispered the strange Btory of their origin. Sculp tor and surgeon are now both long since dead, and it is no longer necessary to keep the secret of the two plaster casts. A Night in a Storm It was aprivate parlorofa hotel in the Provinces. Twomensat at a well spread breakfast table. The youDger had just pushed back from the table with au im patient movement. “No,” he said, abruptly, “I cannot eat, I cannot drink. If I believed in presentiments I should say I felt a warning of something disagreeable, if not horrible.” ‘•Well, then, my dear nephew,” said the elder, “ as you do not believe in such things, why not make yourself com fortable and enjoy your breakfast? You ore not to start until to-morrow, any way, you know.” The youDg man arose from his seat and walked to the window, throwing it open and looking out into the frosty, brilliantsunshine. Theairwasintensely cold, and reddened his cheeks instantly. He drew in his Uead, saying— “ I shall start this morning. There’s going to be a storm, and I must go. Will you accompany me to the station ? The train starts in an hour.” The uncle shivered and drew h is dress ing gown closer. “No,” he said, “I’ll not leave the house unless I’m obliged to. I did not leave England to get frozen by a Cana dian winter. I did not know you were so sentimentally foolish. Alice will not thank you for coming a day sooner. Women don’t like a bridegroom around when tho wedding preparations are going on, no matter how much in love they are. Take my advice, and stay here until the time appointed for you to start.” Kobert Busseil, the young man ad dressed, listened with bare civility to his companion’s words. What was such advice in comparison with the urgent cries of his whole nature? He had left Euglaud three weeks before, to claim the woman of his choice, who had beeu a year in Montreal, whither she had emigrated with her parents, carrying with her the love and promise of one in whom she believed with utter devotion'. ' Bussell’s uncle and adopted father had accompanied him, and now sat smiling at the imjmtience, the whims of youth. “ There is a storm lu the air in spite of this sunlight,” Russell said, still standing by tho window. “I should not enjoy being blockaded in by snow on my journey.” “Probably not; but you might as well expect it in this climate.” “Well, I shall tans Alice back to England as soon as possible,” Bussell said, with hishandon the door. “Good bye, uncle, then good-bye.” Russell was soon speeding from the town, his eyes looking eagerly forward over the vast stretches of snow as if he would outstrip even the steam which bore him. lie was not half through his journey by rail, when from the west, where it had lingered throughout the sunny morning, rose tho filmy white veil that is the herald of snow. Weatherwise people looked out of the car windows and shook theirheads, saying— “ This will be a hard one. It's just a year ago since the horrible storm that blockaded in this train.” Bussell, looking, felt his face grow pallid in spite of his hopes, liis youth ful energy. He did not fear the storm while on the cars; he knew they would get to their destination before the Btorm would be sufficiently advanced to retard them much. But he remembered the twenty miles he must go in a cutter after the last station, for Alice waited him at the residence of a relative beyond Montreal. Her aunt had persuaded her to have the wedding there, where wealth couid give its glow to the ceremony, and what girl could resist such an invitation. “If she were only in Montreal! ” mur mured Bussell, and the first few flakes began to drift slowly downward. Soon the air was filled with fine sharp particles. It grew colder instead of warmer, or apparently so, for the wind rose and whirled the snow fiercely. It had snowed two hours when Bus sell alighted at the station in Montreal. It was already dark,save that thegloom was mitigated by a full moon. He was half benumbed by cold and sitting so long, but he could not wait. Beason told him that he was a day early, and might easily stay in the city until to-morrow; but some feverish, morbid haste urged him on—it was impossible for him to rest quiet a moment. He stood a few moments by the bright fire in the waiting room. Then he de cided to go to the house occupied by Alice’s parents. Arrived at tho house he learned with dismay that Alice had left two or three hours previous. Oppressed With fear ful forebodings he hurried on, taking the road which his servant supposed her driver had selected. As he emerged into the open country the runners of the cut* tersank deep into the snow. The horses struggled desperately through the drifts, while the blinding storm and benumb ing cold almost overpowered him. To arouse himself from the lethargy which he felt was the precursor of death, he stepped outof the sleigh and plodded on beside it. For hours it seemed to him. he traveled, alternately walking ami riding, the animals he drove being al most exhausted. Suddenly, with a snort of surprise or alarm, his horses stopped and threw up their heads, their eyes starting in their sockets at something indistinct In the gloom ahead. There is something infecting iu the alarm of an animal, and Bussell felthis cheeks pale as he moved slowly for ward, leaving thehorsesstandingthere. A shudder like the first chill of an impending doom, shook tho young man as he came upon a cutter overturned in the snow. He was close to it before he could make out what it was. There we»e ao horses attached —that he taw at ft glance—but the tugs cut short off, were fastened there. The snow b*d blown away from one side of the sleigh while the other side was deeply imbed ded. He leaped upon the runner, and hurriedly pulled the buffalo robes away; a fear came upon him such as he had never known before. At last, it seemed to him so long, though itwas hardlyamoment—in that snowy moonshine he saw the pallid face of a woman lying motionless among her furs. With a suppressed cry he lifted that beautiful form to his shoulder, and sat down on the cutter, bending his lips to the cold ones that could not respond to fils caress. And yet she was not dead —a faint breath just sighed across his cheek. Was it thus he had thought to greet his promised wife ? He could not think —he knew nothing but that he had found Alice —and his whole being rose to the resolve that he would save her— that neither snow nor ice nor cold should take her from him. She was his, and he claimed her despite every thing. But he could not linger there; he must be moving on, though ever so slowly. He bore his burden to his own cutter; taking with him the furs that could not save her after that fearful sleep had begun. His horses walked on. again—they needed no guiding—they could find their way better than man could direct. Anythingbutintenselove would have despaired in that tempest pf snow, with that pitiless wind freezing across the earth, raising no glow on the blue white face against his own. He roughly chafed with buow her hands and face; but he soon saw that severer measures must be tried: that the lethargy was too deep. She dimly felt the fierce fridtion, for Bhe moaned and seemed to shrink from it—a word less request to be left alone. Russell had forgotten the cold for himself, the snow swept by him un heeded. Again he lifted her in his arms and stepped out into the snow, letting, her stand beside him, then trying to make her fight her way on, knowing that if she could once be roused she was saved. At first she fell down helplessly, Bank inanimately with no wish to stir. But in a moment his ceaseless efforts had some effect, and he could compel her her muscles slightly, though her head drooped in an unknowing stupor. Bussell felt that he had never suffered before. He thought the pain and sor rows of all his life were crowded into that one Dight, By slow degrees, al most hopelessly slow, consciousness and horrible suffering returned. His face was pale and sick, os he knew the agonies she endured. But pain was the signal of life, and not now would he 1 despair. I At last she looked at him with recog-! nizing eyes, and when everything else I had failed, love reached the fountain of I crimson, and sent a wave of its fed to | her face. j Week, suffering, she reclined upon I his arm, unable to move or to speak. I Could he keep the li/e he had saved, through a much louger journey ? | When he left the city there were a 1 few houses scattered by the roadside for I two or three miles. The dim glimmer j, of their lights he had seen; but since then he had noticed nothing—it was a waste through which he was riding, with no lamp of hope held out to him. Aud the delicate gill, but half resusci tated, he thought—oh, how tiany miles before safety ? An half hour passed, and through Bussell’s brave soul had already darted i the first doubt. Human endurance could not last forever, and it was more than he could do to preserve the feeble life he had recalled. In another half hour ice and cold might conquer him. He would die with her; he could not live when that dear face was beneath the sod. A quarter of a mile further on, and he saw through the storm a dark object by the road side. It was a building of some kind, and it could shelter them. He turned his horses’ heads that way, aud plunged through the snow to the door. There was no door. It was a dis mantled log hut, with its doorgone, aud its oue little wiudow broken out. But it was better than the fury without, aud in another five minutes Alice was shel tered from the wind. With painful but patient fumbliuglie succeeded in fast ening the buffalo skin in front of the doorway, thus forming an insufficient barrier. Then he drew from liis pocket his cigar case snd his matches, and lighting one of the latter, looked eager ly round the room, in the flickering light. That glance told him that there was an immense fireplace ut one side of the hut, and a divine light streamed into his soul, at the sight. As his horses had dragged the cutter to the house, the runner had grated over the top raii of a fence, and the unseen post had nearly upset the light cutter. The white-fingered, fair-faced Eng lishman worked with a power that was moreiike fury, and when at lasta ruddy blaze ilew up the broad chimuey, tears of joy actually started from his eyes. Exhausted, happy, he knelt at the feet of Alice, aud hid his face in her hands. With that reviving warmth came a little of strength to her weary coul. She leaned forward, a smile upon her lips, and in her eyes, and murmured— “lt was heaven itself who sent you here, Robert.” Two hours later, a gray dawn was struggling through the clouds; a broad strip of blue encircled the west; the wind moaned in lower tones. The old hut was golden with the wood fire—it threw its radiance over the two horses that had been led in, and stood wild aud grateful in a corner, their eyes staring at the fire. Renovated, though weak, with a happiness beyond words,warm in heart, Alice Malcolm greeted her wedding day. She had told her story to Robert —the story of her desertion in the snow. As the storm on more furiously, her driver, whom she believed trust worthy, aufiounced liis intention of returning. She had discovered that he was in a »emi-intoxicated state, but she refused toreturn, and.be would notfgo a 8 step farther, and had cut the traces and mounting one of tho horses left her to her fate. She did not know when she spoke, that a mile back, within a few miles of the city, he lay frozen to death, the ed dying snow drifting over his body. He had found a fate, which his mistress bad escaped. Backward, through a vista of happy years, looked Russ&ll and his wife to that night of horror in Canada, when peril revealed to them the full depth of their devotion—the infinitude of their love. Seals aitd Sea lions—Their Thyslology and Topology. •Seals and sea lions flock together in the winter time and go South, and in the summer north, The seal Jives upon sea cabbage. During the spring, from the 15th of April, they settle in myriads In Behrings, Copper, Blijnee, Andrea novki, Fox, St. Paul’s and St. George’s Islands. The male seal, or sekacb, in the springguards more than two hun dred females. Thesekach isvery large, and is then about five years old. It has great influence over the herd of females. It seeks out the highest rock on the coast, where it can rest or play. We ask traders why they have gone north to kill these animals. Was it because they were so troublesome that they disturbed the peace of San Francisco, ur for the purpose of exterminating them? The reply has been given us, “only for com- merce.” If then for commerce, we will write from a commercial standpoint. A trained and skillful hunter will never kill the sekach while it is on the rocks, because they know that it would drive away the seals. If thesekach dies a natural death, or in war, which often prevails among these animals, it makes no impression upon the seals, unless they smell their own blood, when they become frightened and plunge again into the sea. Seals give birth to young in the month of September, and the rocks are then covered with the pups. They never have more tbau t*vo in a litter. Their voices resemble the bleating of young lambs. They are suckled by the mother until they are able to go into the water, when they are required to look out for themselves. For economical reasons these animals should not be molested until the month of September. If the breeding females are driven away, they will lose their pups. The old males should be killed in September, for their oil is more valuable than their fur. It is worth 75 cents pergalldn. The meat is salted and eaten by the inhabitants of the different islands. The bones are also put to good use. The Americans trading in Alaska last summer did not pay any attention to the sea oil. They ail went after furs. The oil of 400,000 seals was thrown into the stream. An individual who was employed last summer at St. Paul’s Island, spoke of the many thousands of dollars thrown into the stream. It is the best of oil for machinery and lamps. Congress maderegulations to protect the seals without knowing the habits or physiology of this animal. All its atten tion has been paid to St. Paul's and St. George’s Islands. In this bill of pro tection no mention is made of the other islands, such as Blijnee, Andreanovki and Fox Islands. Congress has never paid any attention to these islands, and greedy traders will exterminate the whole race of these animals, which are in thousands from Unalashka to Attou, with firearms or any weapon that they have. There has never been any im provement made in seal hunting. Con gress would like to protect the seal in the same manner that the old Busso- American company did, which was the most ignorant and conservative con ceivable. After our investigation, we give such knowledge as we possess about the man ner in which this animal is killed. Seal go up on the beach in foggy weather or in in the evening. They are so fat that on hot days they prefer the water. After sunset the Aleuts drive them into the mountains; then they separate the females and young ones from the males, and drive the other portion back into the sea. The male seal should be killed when it Is one year old, and in the months of September and October, for their fur is very valuable in these two months and at that period of their life. One firmlastßummerhad 40,000 females one year old killed in August and Sep tember, for they were aware that the fur was very valuable at that time. After they are three years old their fur is not so valuable.. Afterthe seal is skinned the fat should be carefully taken from the skin, then salted and put into barrels. To preserve one Bea seal skin it takes eight pounds of salt. Ho more should be killed than can be prepared in one day, because the fat eats up the fur. : j The dxeesiug of the seal is done alto ;: getherin England. If it is not carefully . j prepared, when passing the tropics the • i fat destroys the fur. The seals, at the ■ j end of October and the early part of j November, emigrate to thesouihwestor !to the Japanese Islands, They are not I afraid of the ice, hut prefer a milder cli ' mate in the winter season. We are ■ certain, from some stated facts, that they make this place their abode during the winter. The Japanese use their skins for winter garments. The sea lion is the size of a seal, and 1 is similar to the seal in its habits. Shoot l ing is the manner in which they are ! killed, Great attention must be paid in I the killing of the sea lion, as oue spent ball will frighten the whole herd into I the sea. The meat is much liked by the I natives. The fat gives a good oil and l the hide is valuable aud used for many I purposes. The natives of Alaska use the hide to make darkes or boats for I their own use. Many beautiful and ' valuable fur-bearing animals living in } the water aud ou the land, are found at />t. Lawrence and St. Matthew’s Islands. We have seen some skins from St. Law rence as large as the leopard, and of the same form, spotted black aud white, and as soft as the sable. There are in the northern regions numerous species of fur-bearing animals which live ou land ' and water —sea lion, sea bear, sea ele* , phant, sea mink, bearded seal, crested < seal, etc. ] People Who Make Society Disagreeable. Let us see who are the people who make society disagreeable. First, ihero are managing people.— The managing people are of three kinds. They are either imperious persons, or very good-natured persons, or very con ceited persons. And sometimes the three motives which cause a man or woman to be troublesomely managing are combined in one and the same per son. Now, the objection which most people have to being managed is, that they have an unconquerable wish to manage for themselves? But duother aud a very po tent cause why people often reject the most excellent proposals for being man aged. It is, that the managing persou does not know somo secret, but very strong motive of the persou to be man aged ; and therefore all the manager’s wise suggestions are beside the mark. Let us take a familiar instauce which might occur in real life. There is a young roan (we will call him Mr. Amana) in the same house with one of the tribe of managers. Mr. Amans is asksd by what train he is returning to London, and he says by the 10 o’clock train. This i 9 in the smoking-room, after the ladies have gone to bed. Up jumps the manager, whips out his “Bradshaw,” and tells Mr. Amans that it is positive insanity not to go by the o o'clock trftin. “If you,go by the 10 o’clock train, a very slow train, you will not get into town tiil 4 o’clock in the morning—a most uncomfortable time ; whereas, if you go by the 9, you will be in by 12 at night, and have a good night’s rest. Do let me order the carriage for half-past 8 o’clock!” The young man looks very sheepish, stam mers out some foolish objection to the it o’clock train, but holds his ground, and will not be managed. And why? Mr. Amans thought that there was a faint return on the part of Miss Amata to the warm pressure of his hand when he bade her good-niaht that .evening; and he would lose fifty nights’ rest, aud rightly too, in order to ascertain whether that faint return of pressure will be repeated, or, perhaps, increased, on the ensuing morning. Now, the family breakfast is not until U o'clock. The above is an instance of a trivial and familiar nature ; but the same thiug runs through life. When the manager thinks any of us unreasonable, he may reliect that perhaps he does not know all the motives which, however un reasonable, determine us to a course of action contrary to that which he so ably recommends. Then there is the class of people whom I venture to call the observan tiues. They must make remarks about everything ; and there are a great many things in this life which had better pass without any remark. Then there are the objective people. Let any one say anything, however wise or foolish, important or unimpor tant, they must instantly take an ob jection. They really do not mean to abide by their objection ; but they must take it. Nothing should be done with out being well argued over; and it is their business to see that objection is made to whatever is proposed. Then there-are the explanative peo ple. Now, even the cleverest man, aud the most adroit talker, utters many sen tences which aTe needless. You see at once what he is going to say. But the explanative person will not let you off one single jot of explanation. His talk is like the writing of a stupid book for children. Then there is the discursive talker. You are discussing the effect of the large importations of gold from Australia. He unfortunately enters into the dis cussion, and in a short time you are discussing the mode of rearing pineap ples. This kind of man seems to be sent into the world to destroy everything like good conversation. Making a Convert, Jack Taffrail had been a sailor for twenty years. Being very saving and economical, so unusual with the craft, he was at last possessed of a handsome amount of money; and then he resolved to settle oil shore and get married. Having acquired the reputation of a quiet and peaceable neighbor, the min ister of the parish took a decided interest in his welfare. He therefore called ou Jack every Sunday, for several weeks, to induce himtogotochurch. “ What’a the use of my going there now,” asked Jack, “when I wasn’t there but once since I was a boy ? ” “ Where do you expect to go to when you die?” asked the minister. “O, I’Jl rough it out, as I have always done; I’ve never done any harm.” “That is not enough,” replied the minister; and, in continua tion, asked. “Haveyou ever done any good?” “ Yes, Kir, i have; a very good thing I did once.” “ What was that? ” “I made a conveit of a Jew to the Christian faith.” “ I hardly think you have enough of learning and powers of argument to accomplishsuch a difficult task.” “O, it wasn’t by lamin’ I did it, but by a way of my own.” “ Well, I should like to hear how you managed that.” “Please sit down, then, and I will tell you the whole yarn.” The minister having been seated, Jack com menced his story thus : “One day when I was on the deck of my ship, in Ports mouth harbor, I heard a splash in the water, and on looking overboard, whom did I see floundering there but Ikey Johnson, a clothes-dealer. O, Sir, I knew him well, for several times he shut up my eye in buying slops from him. I thought at first to let him drown, but a feelin’ I had for his soul made me change my mind. So with my hand over hand by the cable, J. soon grabbed him by the hair, and held his head above the water. “ Will you be aChris tian?” says I. “No; I can’t be a Christian, but save me, and I’ll give you ten pound.” “I don’t want your money,” says I; and so I dived him again, holding him fast all the time. Presently I let him up, and I axes him agin, “ Will you be a Christian,” says I. “ No, I can’t be a Christian,” says he ; “ but save me, and I’ll give you a hun dred pound,” “Blast your money,” says I • and I dived him a second time. Well, Sir, when I let him up that time, he looked almost like a drowned rat. “ Now, this is the third and last time of axin’ • will you be a Christian? ” says I. “I will,” says he. “Then, blast your eyes, die in the. Christian faith! ” So I let him down, and he never came up again.” The minister thought it was a peculiar mode of making a con vert. Tom Corwin, the celebrated Ohio lawyer and politician, was notorious for impartially borrowing money from every one of his friends, and seldom paying them. Having been fined $3O by a Judge one day for disorderly be havior in court, Tom looked all around the court room, and then addressed the Judge: “May it please your honor, I see no one present of whom I can bor row $3O witn which to pay the fine just inflicted on me, but you yourself. Will you be kind enough to lend the amount?” The Judge, foreseeing the probable result of making the loan re quested, addressed, his reply to the Clerk: “ You may remit that fine, Mr. Clerk. The State of Ohio can better afford to lose $3O than! can.” No Beam Anjwhere. No beaux! Absolutely no beaux''-... •> _ • Well yminir , fr Th " Democratic Member. Sn.talned by YYeiiyouDg ladles, stop-aml consider, if, tbe People-Grand Popular Demon* alter all, you yourself have not pro- : aeration at JBvanavlll©-»Ani£x«Govenjor noUDCed thesentenci of banishment Abandons anil Denounces theHadlcals “We? We banish them? . „ clous! Is it not for them we have de- • foll ” wln S lo lh « Cincinnati j ’_ I ( J 3^ • er f. we not for weeks, ; had resigned their seats as the only means oetore w© cam© to these odious moun- ! of defeating negro suffrage, is peculiarly taips, where men are as scarce as French ! interesting Just at this time: hair dressers, closeted with our dress- : Evansville, March 9,1869. makers and milliners to produce these ' The reception of Hons; Daniel Morgan, bewitching ‘ suits/ long and short, for ! James F. welborn and Leroy Calvert, our morning and evening, out-door and in- Senator and Representatives in the Indiana door wear? Have we not cool dresses | who resigned their seats to and vwarm dresses; dresses for rain 1 P re vent the Negro Suffrage Amendment dresses for sunshine, dresses for neutral i iT n H n n e f ° g *K dopted b 7 rndi * na ’ waa an weather, with ribbons, gloves, sashes !1. *“, °. b “ e B™U fr * -• -* ■ - —nor Dp ->iy dears, lie won't come ! He knows too muck. He lias seen his sister's milliner ami mautuamaker bills, and heard the fumily discussion thereon ; and though he acknowledges your fas* ciuatfona even through all the absurd toggery you are doomed by fashion’s slavery to have and to Wfear. he has yet to make the fortune to enaoie him to foot his angel’s bills. So he runs away from you, discreetly; runs oil' iishing, or gunning with the “fellows,” and, wiser than you, comes home brown, hale and hearty for the winter months, Instead of perspiring at your side in tight yellow kids. Do you begin to understand? Mow, my dears, if you have been ushered into the world in coach and six, till your feet and hands have become paralyzed for want of use, that is your misfortune, aud your fault. Because that necessi tates a rich husband. Aud as there are very few rich young husbands, you will have to bid good bye to your girlish ideal, and marry the bald-headed, gouty Mr. Smith, who was born at the same time as your own father. This, my dears, you will have to do, or face your nightmare, single blessedness. 1 have looked at you playing croquet, without a coat tail among you ; I have seen you driving yourself out in your pretty little phaetons; and thought you put'a brave face on it. I know very well whatisgoiDg ou under that gay little sash of yours; and I think it is a pity that you should have been brought up to many artificial wants, that your heart must go hungry in life’s spring time because of them. My dears, I never lacked beaux at your age. But a walk in the woods, or in the city either, involved no expense to my beaux. I coufd climb a lence, where there was no gate, or where there was either; l was not afraid of dew or rain, because my dress was simple. My gifts were not diamonds, blit flowers, or books. My mother would not have al lowed me to ride with gentlemen, had they asked. When they came to spend the evening, our tray of refreshments did not involve a “ .French cook.” So you see, my dear, though I had no silk dresses, I had plenty of beaux, and a gay heart; and I enjoyed a sail with an old sun-bonnet over my curia, or a moonlight ramble with a merry party, ; much betterthanyoudo“theGerman;” and half an hour was sufficient warning ! for me to “ dress ” for any kind of party —in doors or out—because, unlike you, I was not bothered to choose from twen* i ty dresses which to wear; and I will 1 give you leave to ask any of mybeaux, ; who are now grandfathers, if I was not ! able at that time to settle (heir accounts! | And it is because I had such a good time ; that I feel vexed that your youth and I prettiness should so often go a-begging j —through no fault of yours; and you I may show this to your mothers, and tell 1 them I say so. i An Ancient Battle, Free from the smoke of a modern en gagement, a Hellenic battle must have been a gallant sight. In purple tunics and burnished armor, the men stood ten, fifteen and twenty deep, beneath a glittering forest of spear heads. Those who were well to do no lack of gold about their greaves and breastplates, and were dandified in plumes and sword-belts; while even the poorest citizen wore a helmet fashioned by the exquisite taste of a Greek artificer. It must have been a trial of the nerves of bravest to stand biting his moustache, humming a bar of the Ptean which he was to sing within the next quarter of an hour; wondering whether his widow would marry again ; hoping that the cobbler on his right might not turn tail, or tho teacher of gymastics on his left shove him out of the line; dimly couscious meanwhile that his colonel was exhorting him in a series of well tuned periods to bethink himself of the tomb which covered those who died in ThermopyHe, and the trophy which stood on the beach at Arte misium. And then the signal-trumpet sounded, and the music struck up, and the whole army moved forward, steadily at first, but breaking into a run when only a few hundred yards sepurated the approaching lines. And, as the distance between them grew shorter, and the tramp of the enemy mingled with their own, the front rank men had just time to try and imagine that the countenance ofthepeopleopposite looked like flinch ing, and that the notes of their war chant had begun to falter, and the next second there would be a crash of pikes, and a grating of bucklers, and a clutch ing of beards; and those who would fain be home again were pushed on by the mass behind, excited at hearing others fighting, and with no steel athis own throat; and, after five minutes of thrusting and shooting, and fierce strainingof foot,and knee and shoulder, the less determined or the worse dis ciplined of the two hosts would learn, by more cruel experience, theold lesson, that life as well as honor is for those who retain their selfrespect, and their shields. Shall Me Grow Tea? Why not? asks the Tribune— “ It is an agricultural product, of a climate like a wide beltof our country; and we already know that it will flourish on our soil. Why should we persist in going around the world for what might as well be grown at our doors? The Chinese take very little of us but silver and gold, and these we cannot produce so fast as we need them to redress the balance of trade, otherwise heavily against it. It isaiot probable that the Chinese or Japanese tea-grower receives one-fourth the price that our tea drinkers pay for his herb ; let us grow for ourselves, and labor will then receive seventy-five instead of tweaty-five per cent, of the cost of its product to the consumer.” Harrisburg Postmaster. The appointment of Longstreet aa sur veyor of the port of New Orleans bas been rapidly followed by that of George Bergner for postmaster at Harrisbnrg. When snch men go into office there is no room for heroes like General Joe.Knipe. Longstreet did great harm to the country during the war by slaying its defenders, and ho should be rewarded. Bergner bas grown rich at the public crib, and his greedy cry for more is just answered by a paternal government. General Knipe is a battered hero, who fought as valiantly and skillfully as ever did General Grant. His body is covered •with honorable wounds. He is the best soldier that Dauphin county sent Jinto the army from the beginning to the end of the straggle, and this is said in no disparage ment of the other brave sons of the couDty who gallantly rushed to the field. They will cheerfully re-echo the sentiment. Gen eral Knipe never traded in the distresses of his country. He is generous, brave and honest. His hands are unstained with a single dishonorable or unmanly act. A loyal government now turns him out of the office which he has so faithfully filled, to make place for Bergner. Thus do the truly 101 l reward the services of the bravo '.—Har risburg Patriot. XEGIIO SUFFRAGE IST ISDIASA. . from boginning to end. Governor Run ning was withering in his denunciation of negro suffrage, und announced his cordial support of thy resigned members to fill their vacant places. Ho nlsopassed a high eulo gium upon Hon James Huge.*,of Blooming ton, and James M. Mitchell, ol Morgan county, the only Republicans in the Legis lature who came out in opposition to the amendment. While these proceedings were going on In Hie court house, an immense out door meet ing wax being held in the streets, in spite of the ruin, which poured down in torrents. This meeting was also addressed by Sena tor Morgan, \Yllliam Welborn, and several Pemocratlc speakers. The meetings adjourned at midnight with romiug cheers for the resigned members, Forrest’s Views Kespecttng the Negroes, [Correspondence of tbo Ixiuisvllle Courier- Journal.j Nashville, Murch 9.— A few days ago General Forrest and Major Minor Merri wethor, engineer of tbo luvoes on the Mis sissippi, were my companions part of the way irom New Orleans. As wo passed through boauiiltil tracts of country lying wuste, I asked General Forrest bow it could ever lie repopulaU-d. “With negroes,” was his reply; “they are tho best laborers w r e have ever had in the South. Those among us behaved dur ing the war iu such a xnanuer that I shall always respect them for it, and I would net have one of mine bade, nor have them en slaved if I could. My house servants,” continued he, “ are with mo yet in Mem phis, and never would leave me.” “ But,” said I, “you have bad the name of being hard on that * peculiar’—” .“It is not true,” said he with energy; “ I have always felt kindly towards them, and .always treated them kindly. Kven the ‘Fort Pillow nmsucre’ wus investigated, and tbo Federal officers, to a man, stated that I was not to blatno. The fort never hauled down the llag ; I cut it down with iny own hands, anil did all I could to stop the fir ing.” “ But how, General,” continued I, “are you to repopulato with negroes?” “ Got them from Africa,” was his startling reply ; “ tbey'il improve after getting here, nre the most imitative creatures in the world, and if you put them in squads of ten, with one experienced loader in each squud, they will soon revive our country. I want Xorthern men to come in here, and would protect any man who comes to build up tho country with my life; but they won’t come; Europe ans won’t come ; then, I say, let’s get Afri cans. By pursuing a liberal policy to them we can Denefit them and they us. The prisouers taken in war over there can all be turned over to us, and emigrate and be 1 reed men hero. “I bad an interest,” con tinued he. “m the Wanderer, and we bought , over 400; only six per cent. died. They were very fond of grasshoppers and bugs, l-ut I taught them to eat cooked meat, and they were ns good niggers as any 1 ever had. "W hen prejudice gets over, our Gov ernment will foster this scheme ; there is no need of a war of races. I want to see tho whole country prosper. It’s my country, and I don’t intend to give it up as long as I can do anything to build it up. I am an Auaericuu, und from the day 1 surrendered have been for tho United States.” Farm Stock In tbe United States. We learn from the report of the Depart ment of Agriculture that horses huve in creased slightly in most of the Western and Southern States, but very little in the Mid dle and Eastern—not enough to keep pace with the increase nf population in the At lantic sea-bound States. Nebraska, Kan sas, Missouri, lowa, Minnesota, Wisconsin ami the Pacific coast States exhibit the lar gest increase. The numbers are, however, not equal to the demand, as is shown by the general though small advance in prices. Tho iucrease of mutes is also slow, and tho range of prices appears to bo higher than last year. The returns of oxen and other cattle show a positive decrease in Now Jersey, Mary land, North Carolina, Florida, Texas, Ken tucky, Ohio, Indiana and Illinois, the dim inution amounting to five per cent, in the latter Stale. Iu milch cows a reduction is reported in Texas, Ohio and Illinois, and some of the Southern States. A general in crease in prices of cattle is reported. The reduction in tho number of sheep ap pears to be general, tho only exceptions be ing Rhode Island, Tennessee, Missouri, Minnesota, Kansas and the Pacific States. The loss cannot be less than' 10 per cent. In some States it is placed at 1.1 or more. The prfees of sheep have declined slightly in certain sections and advanced in others. In Connecticut ami in our own State, where unusual attention has been given to mutton breeds, prices huve been fully maintained. In districts where the Merinoatock monop olizes sheep walks, the decline is general aud in some sections heavy. The report states, moreover, that the re turns of swine mark a very decided reduc tion in numbers of fattening hogs, amount ing tn U> per cent in a large portion of the Ohio Valley. Tho prices are largely in creased in many Slates— ‘2T> or 30 per cent., ami not unfrequently f,O or 0U per cent.— Newark (N. J.) Advertiser. Cruelty to AulinnlN. Tiie State Legislature lias passed an ml ditionul act for the prevention ol cruelty to animals. This act, which extends over the whole State, provides fortko punishmontof any person who shail wantonly or cruelly ill-treat, overload, beat or otherwise abuse any animal, whether belonging to himself or to another, or who shall in any way be concerned in fighting or baiting uny bull, beur, dog, cock or other creature. The abandonment in any public place of any maimed, sick infirm or disabled creature is also to be punished. Tho penalty for diso beying the law is for the first offionce a fine not less than ten nor more than twenty dol lars, and lor the second, and every subse qucntoflence.uot less than twenty’nor more than fifty dollars. The informer is made a competent witness, and receives one-half of tbe fine, and tho county where the offence may bo committed the other half. The pro ceedings are summary, and tbe offender,in default of payment of tho line and costs, can be committed to tbo couuty prison un til discharged by due course of law, which amounts to tho three months ruquired un der the Insolvent laws. When the tine ex ceeds ten dollars, tho defendant may appeal to the Conrt of Quarter Sessions, where the offeuce is to be prosecuted as a misdemean or. In aggravated cases, the defendant may be bound over for trial at the Quarter Sessions, where, on conviction, he is liable to a fine not exceeding two hundred oollars, or to an imprisonment not exceeding one year, or to both. The necessary expenses of taking charge of animals transpoited in au inhuman manner, or of removing and destroyingdiaabled creatures, can be recov ered from tbe owner at a suit at law.—Phil adelphia Ledger. A Warning to Ladled. Lady visitors to Now York, espec ally those trom the country, are cautioned by the journals of that city against entering the showy-lookiDg shops of Broadway which proteas to sell fancy goods at ridicu lously low prices. A highly reapectablo lady from Jersey City was recently charged by tho proprietor of one of these establish ments with being a shoplifter, and was hur ried off do prison and kept thero for two nights, euery obstacle possible bging placed in the way of her communicating with her friends. The Gettysburg National Monument. Senator Merton, of Indiana, bas accepted the invitation of the Board of Commission era of tbe Gettysburg National Cemetery to deliver the address on tho first oi July next, on tbe occasion of the dedication of the monument, which will bo completed by that time. An original poem will be deliv ered by Bayard Taylor, and the Kev. Henry Ward Beecher will perform the duties of chaplain. jonar c.hrechinbiuge athiuhe. His Reception ou tho Bond-Serenade »uil Speech. Lexington, Ky., (March V) despatch to Cincln’ nail Commercial. Mr. John C. Breckinridge comes buck to Kentucky a man of commanding stature, with a face that women call handsome and men intellectual and strong, with th« same eagle eye that your readers have seen in pictures of him as a Confederate Major- General. His cheeks are square froqi the cheek bones down; complexfou ruddy and almost llorid ; mustache and chopped goalee of mixed gray and sandy ; forehead sea tiled with lines of thought and care, and hair very gray, with much more of gray than any of us remember in our recollection oi hiurln his commanding personal appear ance, his stature of near six feet, he reminds us of the John C. Breckinridge of militury fume. But iu place of tho gray, guld aud silver of his warlike days ho wears a plain dark suit of civilian’s efotbes, ntnl iu all his foreigu experience ho has not forgotten the clouk that Keutuckians love iu common with Spaniards. General Breckinridge left f\*vington this afternoon, at two o'clock, 'wkh us much privacy as possible. I understand Unit Mr. Wash. McLean, of the Enquirer, aecnm pnnied hitn to tho tinin, after having becu his host in Cincinnati, lie had hoped to avoid recognition, in a great measure, ami to this end word had been given out that lu* bad already passed down, and that ho bad gone by tho way of Louisville. All along the line of the road from Covington to Lex ington the stations had been visited by anx ious and expectant crowds for two daj s, all desirous of catching a glimpse of the man who, as a Winchester lawyer said to | mo to day, “ was more loved by Kentuck | ians than any living man." i The General, in company wah his wife, occupied seats iu the rear.car. and at all the small stations between (’ineiunatt and Cynthiuna those who had waited and watch ed for him gathered around tln* ear and forced him to exchange a few words with them. At Cynthiana, tho first important stopping place, the crowd cheered tmn and demanded his nppcaraucc on tho rear plat- : form. Said one of the observers, "tied! bless him; ho looks better than when wo fought together." Crowds made their way I into tho car ami took him by the hand. To j all he was the urbane, gentlemanly Mri el<- ( inridge of old, but to all ho said “’Gentle- | men, you must excuse mu for being quiet; j 1 nui here l>y permission, aud it is my re , quest that 1 be allowed to pa-s quietly.” 1 But ho had a kind word from tho heart lor many an old acquaintance, und more U an once his eyo tilled as old times forced thetn solvos upon his mind. Said lie, “I ain glad to get buck to my home once more. It is nearly eight years since I was hero.’’ When asked if tho old scenes were familiar to him, he answered “ Yes,’’ and then dived with some personal friends Into many reminiscences ot the past, and many per sonal recollections of old associations. At Paris the demonstration exceeded oven that at Cynthiana. Despite the min there was a lurge crowd on the platform and many calls for his appearance. After shaking hands at the window he could not resist the domunda for his appearance on the platform,and ptiton hisehmk ami went out. There was wonderful shaking of hands and muny words of kindness. “How is my old friend, Col. II.V" said lie. “He is one ol the oldest friends, and when 1 ask for . him I ask for all.” Here, again, General Breckinridge assured them of Ids desire for quiet, as ho was hero on permission. He , had many kindly words of greeting, such as “God bless you,” “General, it does lie* heart good to aeo you,” “Young as ever,” Ac. The General replied that ho was wdl, and glad to got back, but felt older, and certainly had grown gray. Col. Woodford, of the Southern Hotel, met the General at Cynthiana, and introduced many to him, among them an Ohioan, who said he never saw the General, but voted for him over there. A conversation sprung up about the Cubi net. As to Stewart, General Breckinridge said “ lie thinks, doubtless, he will make a good Secretary, and ho he may, as lie has head enough to acquire a big loriune for himself; but it was strange they never thougbt-of that law. Sumner would nevor forgive himself for not being the lirst to lind that out.” The General rut used a pressing invitation to stay at Paris, and left tin* crowd there waving him adieu, and pushed on for Lexington. As bo neared Lexington this returned exile peered out into the gathering night to catrfTi the familiar objects of childhood days and recognized many a one as he sped onward, and spoke of them to who gathered around him. “ Nearly eight years ago,” said he twice in soliloquy, as old landmarks sped behind, and then was silent. At Lexington station the waiting crowd peered into tho cars, and when he appeared cheered “ three cheers for General Breckin ridge.” The object of the cheers, modest as ever, simply shook bands and pushed his /Way to a carriage with his wife, and with ''cheers following him, drove to Will Breck inridge's residence, his home for a time, where all the evening a crowd of visitors and admirers congratulated him. He was reticent as to politics, and his friends did not speak much of tho past, but welcomed him as one much loved and long expected. To reporters he said he did not want pub licity—onlyquiot. A serenade was arrang ed, but a heavy rain prevented up to ten o’clock. The General had determined to simply return thanks in ten or fifteen words. THIS oKRENADK OF OKN. UK ECK IN It 11)0 K AND ms srKECII. Despite tho rain a serenade took place ut half-past ten to night, preceded by bonfires and rockets. A large crowd, preceded by n band, assembled tn front of tho house, the baud playing and the people cheering tor Gen. Breckinridge. When tho band bad ceased playing •‘Home, Sweet Home,” somebody called for "Hail to tho Chief,” and the crowd demanded ‘‘Dixie.” Thn rain was lulling in torrents then, butthere wore lou'd calls of “Down umbrellas,” and up went cheers into the ruin. At (hispoinl Gen. Breckinridge appeared, and, ntnid deafening cheers, commenced speaking. His remarks attracted close attention, ami were greeted at the close with rounds of cheers. Gen. Breckinridge said : Fellow-Citizens—ln returning home after so long an absence \ would be a very strange being if I wore insensible to tin's very cordial reception from my friends and neighbors. I feel it deeply, mid I thank you sincerely. Recently I have observed that it is very difficult for poisons in my situation to pursue thut line of conduct that they may wish to pursue. Nevertheless, it muy bo proper to say that I accept thiH in formal but most cordlul welcome us purely personal und contaiuing no particle of po litical significance. (A voice—" Turn's right.”) Indeed, I can and will sav that the tremendous events of the last eight years have had a great tendency to deaden, il'not destroy, old party feelings; and for myself I can truly declare that I no more luel the political excitements that marked tho t cenes of my former years than if I were an ex tinct volcano, I will not now ssv more, except to express the pleasure that I feel in coming back to the people whom I ho dearly loved. Mlintlhe < tin Do. To arrive at thn difference hi mean lime between San Francisco and Boston, tho wires of the Western Union Telegraph Co. have nightly been connected, tor nearly a month past, from one side of the continent to the other, by connecting the pendulum of the chronometer at Cambridge, Mass., with tho wire, in such a manner thut the main circuit is broken aud instantly closed again nt every beat or tick of the time piece. Kuch second of time goes forth from the Cambridge University on the Atlantic Coast, with the speed of light itself, hurry ing on over tho magic wire, over cities, towns villages, rivers, mountains, along tho open country, until it finally reaches the recording instrument on the Pacific Coast. In a sentence the ticks of a clock in Boston are recorded in San Francisco al most in the same instant. Notwithstanding the speed with which the pulsations of a clock fly from one side ot a continent to the oilier, thero is a very slight loss of time in the transmission, and this loss is measured as follows: A second wire is switched into place a "repealer” added at Boston, and it is done. r l'ho clock licks made at San Francisco rush over the 3,000 miles of wire to Boston, und back again to San Francisco over the second wire, and record themselves at llie point of starting, in less than sixty seoouds of time, having traversed 0,000 miles. fSutiduy night witnessed tho successful completion ofthislast experiment. Never before, wo are assured, has such a feat boon attempted, and this one was successful,over the West ern L nion wires, through the supet iornbil ity of its employees. The route on the map is from Poston, Albauy, JJujJ'alo, Detroit, Chicago, Omaha, Cheyenne, r a license ns a retail dealer! The law provides that this license shall only be paid by those “ whose business or occupation is to sell” goods, wares or merchandise; now cow’s milk may bo goods, wares or merchandise, but it is not this man’s ** business or occupa tion ” to sell this desirable commodity, but to work at his trade. We wonder the poor feUow was- not stuck for a fifty dollar “ wholesale license,” as their might be some difficulty in deciding whether or not the milk was sold in the "original package or piece.” Truly the frogs are getting into our knead trougbs, and the bondholders are becoming ranro exacting.— Pittsburg Post, qnare of ten for IK aiUonal square. RealEbtate Advertising, lOcent* a line far the first,and soenU for each subsequent in* sertlon. General Advertising 7 cents a line for itia first, and i coots for each snb-equent Inser tion. Speoial Notices Inserted In Ltfcal Column 15 cents per line. Special Notices preoedlng marriages and deaths, 10 cents per line for first Insertion and 6 cents for every subsequent l nßertlon; Legal and othkb,p(otice&— Executors’ notices 2.50 Administrators’ notices, 2.50 Assignees’ notices 2.60 Auditors' notices, 2.00 Other “Notices,' l ten Hues, or less, Z three times, 1.50 ess Item* A monument to Gen. Lyon is to beerect ed in St. Louis. Henry W. Longfellow will return to this country next August, it Is suid. Tho charities ami benevolent agencies in London amount to .£12,000.000. A largo emigration of Swiss colonists to Tennessee is reported. The price asked for the Paris Figaro newspaper is $500,000 in gold. Lamnrtine’s life was insured for loo.ono francs iu favor of his niece. The New York House of Representatives yesterday ratified theSufi'rnge Amendment. Gerrish, lute city treasurer of Lowell, is said to have defaulted iu $150,000. Stephen A. Douglas' second son is In tin 1 Jesuits’ College at Georgetown, and takes to poetry. Hon. James Guthrie, ux-U. S. Senator from Kentucky, died at Louisville mi'Sul urdav. Mexican advices, via Halve** tun, si ate I hat the insurrection iu Tainaulip.is has been suppressed. Ripe tomutoes, hot-house strawhorru s and cucumbers are plenty iu the New York market. Rev. 11. W. Beecher's wife makes s.'>,ool) a year ” pin money " hv editing Mother at florae. The loss by the hurtling ol (he steamer Ruth, on her vnvnge from St. I antis to New Orleans is over SJt)o,iHK). George .Shannon, a priuter, died at his (•use in New York, on Saturday, of hemor rhage of the lungs.; Beecher has a brother who preaches in Mlmira every Suudy night in conjunction with a brass baud. John A. Logan is “ on probation ” in tho Methodist Church of Carb-mdalc, 111., and ought to ho kept there. Guoeii Victoria has recently engaged, as a reader, the daughter of the preacher who coutirim.nl the late Prince Albert at t bhurg, Mr. T. G. Applehm Ims bougtfl at Rome, and given to Die Boston Public Library i the collection of the late Cardinal Tusti’s l engravings, which number 10,000. I Gnu banker iu Paris, M, Tlulmihlcuu. ! holds seventy thousand pound’s worth of i Gonfedoruto bonds, for which lie paid fitly per cent, of their face. One hundred and live German authors have signed tho petition praying General i Jrant to recommend to Congress the adop tion of a good intoriiHiionul copyright law. Lleutonunt Governor Biosh, of Chicago,, lately presented the Historical Society of that city with a London bonk on naval architecture, worth flood in gold. Tho well-known scholar, llassan Etfeiuli, iw Die man whoexhutned the Tnnour man usmipts from Die sepulchre of the Indian office. Tho Ktnpererof Brazil lias paid tho hill of Mr. Felix Yogoil for trunslntuig Profes sor and Mrs. Agassiz's “Journey” into French. Tho Georgia Senate, yesterday, by tho casting vote of its President, indefinitely postponed tho consideration of Dm Nutl'rage A memlmcnt. There is n touching perception of Die fit ness of things in the seleclion of Romero In do Baden if s M dll ary II Glory ol G rant, into Spanish. Mr. Alexander W. Kingbikc Isom* of the members of Parliament unsealed on Die charge of bribery. Tho judges exonerate him personally, but inculpate his friends. Isaac Pickering’was a shrewd citizen of Connecticut who got a neighbor to assist him in digging a grave “ for a joke," and then shot himself to fill it In dead earnest. Gilmore, the Chairman of the Republican State Committee of Virginia, has published a card opposing tho nominations lor Statu olhcers made by tho Petersburg Conven tion. Two men disputing iu an auction room at Chicago yesterday, one of them tired at the (tlher. Tho bull entered the lung of u third man \vh<> was standing near, aud in dicted a mortal wound. Tho Indian murders aud depredations in Arizona are reported to be so numerous that the whites are talking of a war of ex termination. Tho Indians .have als » mur dered it settler and burned Ids house, in Humboldt county, California. Anna Dickinson, finding herself at Den Moino*>, too lute lor Die tram which was to carry her and her lecture to Mount Pleas ants, nobly hired a locomotive and rode thoroon to fulfil the engagement. Toe trip cost her $lOO, and the lecture returned her $l5O. The President hns ordered our squadron in the Cuban waters to bo largely rein forced. Among tho addil-onal vessels to ho sent there arc two iron-clads. The Spanish Lin hussy at Washington has prepared a formal protest against the alleged encour agement and assistance* ofiured the Cuban insurrectionists in Die Cniled Stales. The old grenadier from who>o HuGc Na poleon the First drunk at Ratisbon, during tile inemnniblo campaign of IbO'>, and who on that occusion uttered tho naive words: “ After you, sire,” which caused Napoleon to burnt into a tit of laughter, died on the ‘.Kb Of January at tile Hotel des luvulides, in his eighty-fifth year. An American confidence man, pretending to bo the youngest son of .Secrotary Hewnnf, has victimized certain good people of the Austrian Capital to the tunool several tliou suiid florins. Tho bogus Seward attempted to escape from Vienna tho moment his du pas got wind oi his true ehuriictor, blithe was pursued, and will he sent to a peniten tiary. Several changes have boon made In the military assignments, as follows; General Sheridan is to command the Military Dm sion of the Missouri; General llalleck the Division of the South; General Thomas, tbo Division of tbe Pacific ; General Scho field, the Department of the Missouri; Gen eral Howare, Bnuislurm. The Departments ot .Washington uml the Cumberland are discontinued. By direction of Gen.’Sherman, the Department link issued an order consolida ting tho Infantry of tho army Into twenty live regiments. No now enlistments are to be made until the force is reduced to the full number authorized fur the consolidated regiments. It is said that tho papers in The Atlantic, on “Co-operative Housekeeping,”- were written hv Mrs. Pierce, the daughter in law of Prof. Pierce, of Harvard, and u grand-daughter of tho lute Bishop Hopkins, of Vermont. If this be true we think that Mrs. Stowe, to whom the aiithoiship of Die papers wus very generally attributed, should have denied the report. Horrible Murder by Negroes. Fortress Monroe, Mar. lU.—A horrible murder was committed on Sunday morn ing, about four miles from Hampton, on the Yorktown road, the particulars of which, so far as we can ascertain, were as follows: It seemslbut a man named John Thomas, v. ho resides near Little Bechtel, was aroused by some noise In the vicinity of bis smokehouse, and got up to ascertain the cuuse. Fearing that it might he robbers, ha took down his shot gun and passed out of the back door. Ho advanced cautiously to the .smokehouse, and thero found three Klulwart negroes busily engaged in prying open the door. As ho carno up near them he asked, " what are you doing there?” when they till three final at him and then lied. The halls took effect, one In tho face, one in the shoulder, and the other iu the vital regions near the heart. Tiie shots did not prove instantly fatal, and medical assistant;** was at once sent for, but when the doctor ar rived he informed the family that Thomas was mortally wounded and could survive but a short time. The outrage occurred about two o'clock on Sunday morning, after winch tho wounded man could scarcely speak a word. He staled that tho negroes werestrungers to him and did not belong in thut vicinity, though one of them he had seen before.— They had extracted 2 teeth from a harrow and were with these endeavoring to effect an entrance, when they were disturbed in their nefurious designs. Thomas was not more than ten feet from the party when he was sfiot, which accounts for the accuracy of the aim. He lingered until noononSun day, when ho died. He leaves a wife und nine stnull children to mourn his loss. No arrests have yet been made. The Know Blockade oh tho Pacific Rond. Tho Washington correspondent of the A'. Y. Tribune says : The Surveyor General of Idaho is here. Hu is ouo of the many who walked 90 miles to get around the snow-blockade of Ihe the Union Pucfic Railroad. Ho unys the principal trouble on the line was in tbecuis. Someofthom from 100 to 1000 feet long, dirfl ed full, and tho snow wus pucked in them from 10 to 20 feet deep. Ho also says there were 1,000 people at Pawling Springs. They arrivodtheroFeb.il, und hud to stay to March 1. Muny of thorn used up ull their money paying fur board at the Company’s Hole!'. Bad for Joe. An oxchnnge suys Brigham Young’s eon Joe "smokes cigars, drinks liquor, gels tipsy, plays poker, licks his wives and prOHches the gospel.” Whereat tho Leba non (Ohio) Patriot remarks that Joo ought to remove to some Northern Stute, where tho Radicals have a m ; Jorlly,*or, with carpet-bag m band, migrate to Dixie und become a Radlcul member of Congress ; for he has all the requisite qualifications. No, no. Joo evldeuuy has sins enough nlready to answer for without adding a heavier burden than all.— N. Y. Herald . Arrival and Dr. Hadd< Baltimore, March 19.—Doctor Mudd, who arrived in tbe Liberty, has gone home. He had many greetings here yesterday by his sympathisers.