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H. G. SMITH.
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Voctr)).
IMMEMI
The summer sky was overcast,
I Itnew the sunshine would not last
We mused upon the golden pest
Together.
And then we thonght of what might be
Of all the life-long mkory,
The muffle.: daps we should not see
'l'4)gether.
And ere I left, oty happy 1111141,
Is the last ulnae we shall stand
I said, my darling, hand In haul
Together.
...‘ll.lShlee WV I 11111. V
hOW 1,:t •, .1 •1 1 lu ill'
AM' tali! t.) r " y 4,," s:11,1
itn.iCtiiallColls
A Fight In a Tunnel
Alany years ago, my health !laving he
roine u nu •h impaired by over-study, I
was reettninientled to pass :t winter in
the south of France. ()Is. tn;retalltle
prescription I re•:elily availed myself. I
was withnut wile or child to encumber
my depa r ture; and :timed only xvitli
portinatileati, niatle a most delightful
journey of it. to Ow r!u u viiu,q to‘vii
. . .
tihurtly after Illy Val, While sill ing
at the window i,r111.%* a 111:111
lid Joy, very ilittch like myself, that,
strucl: with Ile fli-,1111,1:1111 . 0, • I rose, mail
hint With my
him an Eng-
I h• \ra , I.tli ; 1:S11111
I Wit, Sl i m, II is I.yl, \vvr,
fair, hk• led: . a 11,111 aidatrm his 111/int.
Nl'll , illy 1111hr:tit. --
When le• had n•aclicd the lad lian of the
st rept. he round, then
slotvly IV( 111111 I, erusiue the nmil,
ho V
yew., and tal:inethe opposite pavement.
This enalilial nie to get a clearer view llf
the 111311. I l'ittl 11, , I was 111111 . 11 till
-111.1• -,ill With illti and har
ly lilted it. physiologist, I thought,
:nay delight as as lie pleases ill
such cid:widen:a , : Im my part I deci
dedly iiliject In tieing niadc n portion or
any sort of pliciniumnim. 1 had read
of very implea,int.entisewiences follow
ing persimal ri,ctillilances, and earnest
ly Inipell that this t illividnal, o liwit na
ture, slwrl of at the time, had
c,t-i in !Hine,
ily ch,tr the neighl.u . h,,id r his
w/•.•1: i/l• 1,:// a
i 01•”... kit
country, I my
virclimi - iiii•
waist id - a tin girl.
•-.1: purr tint,
1in01.v1111%,,t,i 1• Itixurin4qo
aLuud
:uirryil'ht•r hisul; Lair. I ire otl.i I!:uh
-011 nio :L. 1 1/,/,..0,1, :11111 1 IlciLfted
111/1/ 111":1 11,1'.011 . 1/1/0/1 Vllll l':1.114111:111-
10111', n, it' 111/11._!11:int or impatient
111311 11y
\\*lllll/1 11:IV0 very \veil liar 1111 to
ally Mimi. i•orsmi Lit my 'million
111:11111:1/11,1 :•:11// , ,111g
111/10: Ile /1111 11,/1 1•//11111•:t•i/11/1 to raii-ie
im• I 1 / 1 11
1.111/111 tis it 11H/11 111 t• 1 . :11•/.//r 1111.
N 1114), 1 1,11/111 r, \V;11/•11/,1 1110 NVIIII
$111•1•/1, ./1 . ,111/•!lcagt/1/111.- a, ii \‘'l,lllllg
1110 Still out
A, I (Atom, I !mist rotiles:; In
littvittg expori,•to•otl tt tottoit•tattry t:on-
Httliott‘ir..tivy nl 111, III:111. Shill! ziaturo
has pot hint in illy skin, I thought, it
, tootti-; only lair tioit I , littoltl pot titysoli
in hi s ,toto.t. For:ill I I:new, I rtilet•t
otl, tlitit Itoatitifol itoti,:itit girl might
It:tvt. !woo originally tlo , ttood lii nn •;
Lilt. till' ttf nature lot: hoett tlo
foaled by hor Ittvo of t.ttitioitlentoc.
lattglit•tltil toy thooglit, as I ivtilketl on
ttintio:t a 1,0'11,1', lit Night of the
()It roaoltious Ihr I,lloto I tiu.
I round th:Li
dr-s,to.
h•ritiiiiiihi,l
Nllll , l I t•olliki liarucrl' nn
1 . . , .(1/.1(11. I 11.1 , 1 nn \Vi-•Il 1.11” . :111',101
I th , i111 . ,11 , 11
\city f 11,1
l)it that
it. NV,I, \l:1 , lint St.' ty. I
wiitilil ht. 11:1,\'t•
pveil lit 11,. I,llliiilll
hilt, :it I till Hi,
nmhi
thin lilt' lit.-
itill Ilint I ‘v:l, tc:urliin~e Hint.
I had g 4,1 to Ihr lop f th, Lill, and
wa, 1,,tw,,•1t mw thick
II1 . 11(111.,; a ~r 1 ul natural litalgo
for a roe-, like a L.,.l,2:aittiv
park, when I \va , ~ t artlt.al by
Ike report of ;1 ili,•liat'2,vd at. MS
Al (1,4--amo ah,Iat•III I lwastl the
smiwl nl a hall Illy II:II,
rbllltal In llw
•
I limkell arotind witic :t pale fare.
:111:lek Nv3-,lu.rrildy,ulltlen.,
in the !lame n led we life .
For what orilll' wu, we I,l,lllll,lentancl
hal h.id I lone:' I ,n{ • the !due
,nurke curling up from the
hut of the :111,1 heard the crack
lii a the furze :mil (•atHeti he
[l,, 1.1,1 y of
I illy hat. Tliti 11:11
iiiiiitit thriitigli it. If :id it
1111-4,11‘ , 1 loW.Lrit tott'n,
With 11111 , 11 the sante sort of envittlile
feeling, as yin' might imagine 11 TipplT
ary Lari , ll , .ril or agent would feel who
sees thre:tts of his life eat veil 011 eVt.ry
WIWI' trrr. ISF:tv,ry in a situation or
th i s ‘va, (Witt. inn o; ;he tlue•stitin.
(ti \Vhat " .1, "" Y"" hay" to
thin! with invisitile rocs!
riinfess tirtiken into down
right night :is I ni•areit the town, sit cx
trentel3- was; I Io e-,1114. the
Vil•illit t•VCi'y Silt•ltCling hush, tree
ur Iteihfe in the neiLtlititirltitiiit.
()it gaiiiitig hotel I ititt , :iti to re
neut. • , .11 iiiv trirrew roman pe. 1 hart Loon
too nnu It i•xeititil to tittiteli to it the
siemiliettitee it dew:Holed. But the hole
in my hat ~,r,vt‘yed
en my narrow
Beyond all , h ,, 111/?, ?Ile lire
within that hour only' t,,,,11 worth
two paitry.illoi,o,
th.• , i o.•,tion In
"Who \vim', I
•
•
it whiti I
dime Lu merit
tillerit'S,
11,,Ived (4, 111:11:1 a 1,::1111It'llt ut Illy
imtet-I:et per. I him hi
my remit :mil mid him et r. led Mid hap
pened. lie slirtem , .
Ile exclaimed—
" Iluuaiour, like the rii.d 1111,
11111:4 1:11.\ * the 1; 4 ,91:111V 101 . Making I.Ve."
" I hit, " :It hie Nrtn . e/
. 11,111/, II:IVe Wit 111:1111. : -, 111c1.' I
hay, horn berm I am not
ovcit having lool:cd at a %vont:to, nitwit
less spolttot In ono."
"'nom it is att e11it2.111.1," Is ruptioll.
"The only -..•lttlioti I wan t.tior yini i s ,
Iltat ytott have 1.:111 titislakt.n for some
tow else."
" 1100 11iel .'" I exclaimed. " Yon
have uffilouhledly Itit the mark. I have
been mistaken—and I know for whom.
I I:tve you hot seen ;1, n - uto in this town
hearing, a striking resecohlanee to tut , '''
No was Al i , '
" friend, I have. The mo
ment I saw hint I felt uncomfortable. I
111111 it presentiment of evil. You will
oblige nhv by letting Inj,:ehave your hill.
I shall go to I'aris to-nighl. If I stop
here wr day, 'Hy Nvllich I left
England to fortify, will he swilled out
lilac a eandle."
The hotel keeper, seeing outliers
come to a point that alreeted his inter
ests, endeavored to htugh down by
doubts. Ile argued that the hall I had
ill lily hat !night hitve been
destined for a bird, that it was the shot
of some Net:Tell:A inarlcsinan, who
iniglibliax•e I:list:Ll:en my hat fora crow.
"That may all be very tri•ll," 1 art
s \vered ; "hul 51111 . 0 r ;lie to tell yon—thal,
your eXeuse only Wakes hie more reso
lute to leave the place; for of what value
is it inan's life in a district abounding
with sportsnlen %vim taut mistake a, hat
for a crow'."
A train left for Paris at 2:33. It was
an express, and I found it to be due at
eight o'clock. I dispatched my port,
manteau by a porter to the station, and
having LWl'llty minutes before me, sat
down to a light repast of cold fowl and
vin ord btirc. The position of my table
enable l me to get a view of the street.
As the tartar strode away with my lug
gage, I observed a !nun cross the road
and accost him. Li reply to what was
obviously a question, the porter, • with
the gesticulationcd'a Frenchman, point
ed with his thuinb to the hotel, and vig
orously nodded his head. The man
crossed over again to the pavemant,
came on until lie was opposite the hotel
caught sight of me through the window,
and abruptly turning on his heel, walk
ed ow in the direction taken by the
porter.
I thought nothing of this. The man,
I conjectured, probably wanted the job
I had given to the porter. Ife was a
, :. ..
f . . . •••..
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91.: r ., -• ~ , , , .
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.:.'..'' :,',':',:: ' ' ' ; ' ,. ' l •,‘ze - ',' ' ':::.:_ : 1 , .... , . . . .t ' _ , :;:.-
.....,:t :
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' - ' ' I
' '
;'
VOLUME 71
common-looking fellow, dressed in
leather gaiters, a blouse, a slouch cap
and a belt. There was nothing sin,gular
in his face. He was dark, with a black
beard and mustache. He was a familiar
type of the middle-aged peasant of
southern France.
• • . -
Having discharged my bill I walked
to the railway station. On one platform
there was much tumult, a train from
Paris having just arrived. But upon
the platform against which stood the
train which was to bear me to the north
I counted only live people, exclusive of
porters.
But I had little time for observation.
The train would leave in three minutes.
I saw my portmanteua stored away in
the luggage van, procured for myself a
first-class ticket, and took my seat.
Tile shrill whistle of the guard sound
ed. The engine gave a snort, and the
line of carriages clanked to theirchains
as they tightened to the train. Suddenly
several voices cried : "Stop ! stop! Now
then, quick ! Which class—first': Let's
see your ticket. Right. Here you are
jump in!" 'the door of my carriage was
opened, a form bounded in, the door WILS
slanuned, there was another shrill whis
tle and oil' went the train.
1 looked at my companion. Ile was
the 111811 whom I 10111 noticed speak to
the porter and stare into the whitlow of
my hotel.
A thrillpassed over me. My recent
escape Inad greatly shaken my nervous
system, and the apparition of a man
whom I felt I ought to suspect sent a
chill through my blood. Asa peasant,
whieh he was-110t expressed only in
his dress, but in his hands, which were
dirty, rough and horny—what did he do
in a first class carriage? I would have
given something to have changed car
riages. But there was 110 communica
tion with lifeguard. Moreover the train,
as f 11:1V, 11/111 you, was an express, and
did not stop until a run of sixty miles
had been accomplished. We were now
howling :doing with great rapidity.
The man sat, screwed into the corner
away from me, immovable. He appear
ed to be looking through the window at
the country as it whirled by; but there
was an abstraction in his gaze which
intlieatod that he saw nothing. His
:Inns were folded upon his breast.—
Though he must have been eonscious of
my serutiny, he never turned his eyes
1111011 Hie. II is lips, r saw were tightly
compressed, and he breathed slowly but
deeply through his nose, the nostrils of
which dilated to the steady respiration.
I began after a tune to regain my
composure. I struggled to laugh down
my fears. \Vhat, 1 thought, had Ito
fear from a man I had never seen—who
had never seen me? The thing was
favposterous. I extracted a paper from
pocket and commenced to read. I
might have spoken to him, only I inn
agined [I:Mani:III in his situation Might
have been embarrassed by toy French,
which f did not speak with a good ac
cept. Besides, there was smnething
that repelled all approach in his immo
bility.
Half an hour passed away. All at
(owe over the edge a my newspaper, I
sowflint 11111 his haunt uutufthe window
as it' to open the door. 1 had not time
to conjecture Ids intention when, with
Wild, Sere:lining whistle, we were
hurled into the night of a long tunnel.
ll'he rapid disappearance of the day
light made the lamp suspended in the
carriage emit !nut the dullest light for
stone minutes.
laid the newspaper down, with all
my old fears revived in me. I hail
scarcely done so when f saw the outline
of a 111311 rniae in the carriage. lie leap
ed over to where I was seated. I
the gleam of a knife in the air.
Mad with passion and surprise, I
grasped the descending arm. A furious
determination to save my life inspired
ate with the strength of a giant. The
ferocity with which I seized the wrist
forced the hand open. The knife fell;
and then commenced a silent, furious
struggle.
Ito seized me I,y the collar and clung
with the tenacity of a tiger. I heard
Iris snapping teeth, us if he were en
deavoring to bite. We swayed rrkqu. One
end of the carriage to the other. I felt
how weak ill-health had left me, and
prayed to pass tint into the light, that
might the ladier see how to encounter
the ruffian.
Suddenly I felt myself swung round
wit It tremendous energy. I bounded
against a door which opened, and we
Loth fell out On to the lines in the very
center of the tunnel.
The rall seemed to have,stunned him,
for he fell under me and remained for a
time motionless. For myself, I receiv
ed an indescribable shock, such as is ex
perienced in a collision ; tint I retained
my senses. I heard the roar of the train
,lying away in the distance. I SaW the
red gleam failing like the cye of a dying
demon.
I still clutched him by the throat, MA'
dill I dare relinquish it. My situation
was frightful. I suspected that a down
train would soon be passing, and in the
intense blackness of the tunnel I could
not sec 11!1 which line we had fallen. I
would have stretched forth my hand to
grope for the rails; I might have found
a place of safety by judging of the dis
tance between them , but I felt the form
of my assailant commencing to writhe
beneath me. Ills struggles grew fiercer:
He endeavored to rise, but, with the
fury of despal r, I kept him pressed down,
one hand on his throat, and the other
on his breast. What I desired was to
render him insensible. I would then
leave hint in the darkness, and grope
my way as I could.
It never occurred to me at the time
that there was no need to make hint in
sensible in order to elude him. 'flue
darkness would have rendered my pres
ence invisible to him. Ilut toy mind
wits hopelessly eon fused. I was breath
ing a sulphurous air, made thick and
difficult by its blackness. My only
thought was to keep the ruffian down.
I WaS only capable, indeed, of this
thought.
A few minutes had elapsed when I
heard a distant rumbling,. like approach
ing thunder. It increased. t seemed
to feel a wind blowing against my face.
I tasted, too, a continual draught of
smoke and steam. I k near that a train
was approaching. My hair lifted on
my head. What rails were we on? The
suspense was frightful.
My assailant increased his struggles.
Ire became furious. He was evidently
lighting to throw me down, and over . in
the direction of that side of the tunnel
ilong which came the roar of the train.
I saw his object, and madly pressed upon
hint. Ills body frantically writhed. Ire
twisted under me as if he revolved on a
pivot. Ile endeavored to shriek some
words to rue, but toy throttling grasp
made his voice no more than a horrible
11,:11'SNICSS.
I saw the red and green lights of the
engine approaching. They grew in size
:nut luster with a hideous rapidity.
There was a roar, a shower of dust, a
wind that struck me down like a blow
from a strong man's fist; then followed
the dying raffle, ending in a dull and
sullen moan.
I rose to my feet. I crossed over to
the wall, and, feeling along it, took to
walking with all the speed my sinking
frame would stiffer ins to put forth.
How long I walked I know not. My
passage seemed intertuivahle. The
damp of the wall against which my left
hand constantly pressed froze my blood.
Now and then I stumbled over piles of
rubbish lying grouped against the side,
and sometimes my groping wits bewil
dered by coining across recesses into
which my hands guided me.
At length I saw a star, tremulous,
glorious, in the distance. It was day
light—the aperture of the tunnel—and I
pushed forward with invigorated spir
its. I neared it slowly; for this star
seemed to maintain an inexorable dis
tance and would not enlarge. How
shall I describe my joy as I gained the
twilight of its reflection—as I advanced
and felt the pure air of heaven upon my
dry cheeks and burning lips—as I saw
the blue sky and dint vista of palegreen
banks !
As I got into the light a cry escaped
my lips. My trousers were splashed
with blood. There was one ensanguined
line, as if a fountain of blood had played
upon me.
I seated myself to recover my strength.
I could see that I presented a d ismal and
terrible spectacle. My coat was torn,
my hands were black—so, too, I judged
was my face—my collar had been torn
from me, and the skin at the ends of my
lingers was lacerated. After reposing
myself I climbed the bank and perceiv
ed, at about the distance of a mile, a
small station. I made towards it, and
gained it. A railway official, who was
standing looking at two children play
ing in a back-garden, uttered a loud cry
of alarm as he spied Inc. I narrated my
story to him as coherently as I could
and then sunk upon the ground in a
fainting condition.
Of what happened after this I have
no remembrance. When I came to my
senses I discovered that I had been tak
en to the house' of the station-master,
and carefully tended by his wife. From
him I learnt the conclusion of this sin
gular incident in my life. It seems that
after my story had been told, two men
were dispatched into the tunnel in
search of my assailant. They discover
ed him lying dead, with both his legs
cut clean oft a little above the knees.—
They bore the corpse to an adjacent
dead-house, and an inquiry into his
death brought out such particulars
which are very easily anticipated. The
man who so very closely resembled me
at V had seduced the betrothed of
a laborer, one Theodore Vertot.—
, This Theodore, reckless now of
life, and resolutely bent on vengeance
swore to kill the seducer. Mistaking
me for his enemy he attempted to shoot
Inc. This failing, lie hung about the
hotel armed with a stiletto, determined
to stab me whenever I should appear in
the street. Hearing, however, that I
was about leaving for Paris, he per
ceived a better and safer means of pros
ecuting his design, by stabbing me in
' the tunnel through which lie knew we
would pass, and then escape in the
darkness. Reflection had obviously
taught him that revenge would be none
the less sweet because it did not entail
his destruction by the law.
Such is this simple but tragical story.
My prototype who had been the means
of twice imperiling my life, I have never
seen since. I confess to no wish to Sc,
him. It is bad enough to hale to hew•
the brunt of one's own follies; it is
altogether miserable to stiller from
follies of others. Ever since the occur
renee of this small episode I have al NV:I3'S
thought there is a much wiser provi
dence manifested in the dissimilarily
between man and man than our philos
ophy suffers us to dream talc
mcn's .11%tyrt:inr.
Janet's Fortune
"Anil when I die I shall leave my
fortune to the one who will Ilse it to the
best advantage," said Grantboa Leeds,
smiling from behind :her spectacles to
the smug girls around her.
"iTour fortune, grandma? \Vhat will
it lie? 'That' old basket, wills its horrid
yarn and needles, and the neve -ending
knitting work. If so, you need not
leave with use. Janet will use it to a
to better advantage than I could."
"Yes, Lettie, you are right; unit
sure I dont want it, either. what
a fortune, to be sure!"
"I'll accept it, grandma, and prize it
if you will only add your sweet, con
tented disposition. It would be a for
tune which none of us need despise."
Janet Leeds was the youngest of the
family, and the plainest. She had a
sweet, fresh face, awl tender eyes ; but
these paled into ugliness before Lettie's
black orbs and shining curls, and the
blonde loveliness of belle Margaret. So
she settled back in thv chimney corner,
and waited on grandina, or assisted the
maid in the housework.
Once in a while she ventured out to a
party in the village, but so seldom, that
people never observed her. 'Chat made
it unpleasant, and she staid at , home
still closer.
But MI that morning, while they eat
chatting with grandMa, she felt a deal
of real discontentment for the first time
in months.
Clara Bosworth, her bosoms friend,
was to give a party that evening - , and
she could not go. For weeks prepara
tions had been going on in their quiet
family. She had given up the money
saved for a new winter cloak, that Let
tie's green silk might he retrimmed for
the occasion, and the best dress she half
in the world was a plain, garnet-colored
poplin with black velvet trimmings.
She had faintly suggested t h at she
might wear that, but the cry of dismay
front her sisters silenced her.
" Go and woar that old poplin !" cried
Lettie, from the clouds of white billowy
lace that was to adorn the green silk.
'• You must he crazy !"
" I should think * so," cliiined Marga
ret, who was lilting a lace berthe over
the waist of the delicate lilac satin.—
"Do you want Austin Bosworth to
think us a family of paupers:' It is to
be a grand atlitir, and Clarsi expects all
who honor it with their presence to pay
her respect enough to dress respectably.
It is Austin's first appearance after his
European tour, and surely you do not
want him to think meanly of us'."'
The tears came up, but Jamt was
brave, and no one saw them.
That night, when the two girls—the
one in her dark beauty and wonderful
ly becoming array, the other :ill deli
cacy, her fair, pearl loveliness enhanced
by the pale purple color of her splendid
dress—cause laughing into grandma's
room, a little shadow darkened her face,
and she found it very hard to keep back
the tears.
"Fine feathers make fine birds but
but line birds do not always sing the
sweetest, Janie," said gram ling, after
they were gone. " I know who is the
true one ill this family. I know my
little singing bird, Janie, and she is
dearer than a dozen line ladies. Austin
and Clara will come to-morrow, and he
will tell us about his travels In foreign
lands, and you will be far happier than
you would be up at the house to-night,
with dancing and confusion."
" I suppose so, grandma," and Janet
took her seat by the tire and went on
knitting, with a peaceful face.
The elder sisters came home with
crumpled plumage, but in high spirits.
Austin Bosworth had returned, a
handsome, polished gentleman, and had
flirted desperately with Lettie.
" Why, grandma, he almost proposed
to her!" laughed Margaret, who was
engaged to Judge Lenard's hopeful son,
:aid, therefore, hail no place for jealousy.
More than one of the Company pre
dicted that it would be a match."
"Don't count your chickens before
they aru hatched," called grandma
from her pillow. "Air. Austin Bos
worth is ❑o fool, I can tell you
" What an old croaker:"
They were entering their chamber
acro,ls the hall, but grandmother's ears
were not dulled by age, and she clearly
heard them.
" Don't mind them, grandma," whis
pered Janet, who Lad waited le help
them lay aside their finery.
' " Mind them ! Uu you think I shall,
Janet Leeds?"
Next day Austin Bosworth came. He
was too familiar with the - old house to
stop for hell-ringing, and he entered,
crossing the hall directly past the parlor
door, where Margaret and Lettie waited
in their tasteful afternoon costumes,
and walked straight on to Grandma
Leeds' room.
She WaS there with her work, her
placid face beaming, beneath the white
lace-bordered cap.
A graceful, girlish 4igure half knelt
beside her, wreathing with deft lingers
a bunch of evergreens into a frame for a
mantel ornament, and her eyes were
lifted smiling ikto the old lady's face.
lie entered and closed the door, be
fore either saw him.
"Grandma Leeds!"
" Why, bless my heart, it is Austin !
Come here my boy !"
And the tine gentleman came and
gave both hands to her in his delight.
"Janie, my little playmate, too!
What a happy meeting! Clara came
down dressed for a call, and declared
she would Caine, but I told her no !
knew the amount of gallantry I should
feel obliged to use, and I preferred that
my first visit should be like the old
ones."
•' You are right. We are better
pleased to have it so, are we not,
Janet "n
His call lengthened itself into two I
hours, and during the time he told
pleasant stories and chatted like the boy
of by-gone days, but not once did
Margaret's or Lettic's name pass his
lips.
When he went away he met them
coming with disappointed faces from the
parlor, where they had been waiting for
him; but he only lifted his hat and pass
ed out. Then grandmother and Janie
received a sound scolding, such as only
these two knew how to give, and the
shadows of discontent again fell ou
Janet's spirit.
Ah, that long, cheerless winter! What
a story Janet could tell you of disap
pointments, of happy parties of which
she had no share, of moonlight rides, of
joy and merriment ! She had only that
one comforter, kind, patient grandma ;
for now that Austin Bosworth had come,
the way was,harder than before.
He came and escorted Lettie to par
ties, and sometimes chatted with grand
ma, but nothing more. She saw noth
ing more—she did not catch the good
natured smiles he gave her from the
sleigh as he rode away—and Lettie never
WrilLll2
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING APRIL 27, 1870
told her how often he asked for her.
Alone with grandma, Janet wished for
better things, and wondered why she
whs so harshly dealth with.
At last even the society of her aged
comforter was denied her, and in her
bed the old lady gradually faded away.
Day and night Janet sat beside her,with
the knowledge that she was beyond
earthly help--waiting upon her, yield
ing the childish whims, and shutting
out everything youthful and beautiful
from her sight.
" Playing household angel," Margaret
said.
" Working for grandma's fortune of
old shoes and worsted stockings," Lettie
cruelly added.
Doing, her duty by the faithful woman
who had taken the three motherless
children into her heart, and tilled the
lost one's place, so far as God permit
ted," her own heart said, and steadily
she worked on.
The first of May brought invitations
to the last ball at the Bosworth house.
and while the two elder sisters laid out
the finery, Janet folded her tiny missive,
and hid it away next to her heart as a
sacred bit of paper, bearing Austin's
firm, broad chirography upon it.
That, night grandma was very ill, and
when Margaret and Lettie fluttered in
with their gay dresses, Janet met them,
and almost forcibly put them out of the
room.
" I beg you, girls, to haven little re
spect for poor grandma—she is very ill
to-night."
"Nonsense! Don't boa fol, Janet
anybody \cuuld think she was dying."
I believe she is."
Their reply came in a violent slam of
the door, and Janet was loft alone with
her patient.
'the hours dragged wearily, and over
come by her long, sleepless watches,
Janet fell `.hat asleep.
Two hours later she awoke with a
start, awl in an instant she saw that
dread change visible in grandma's face.
Like one in a dream, she walked to
her father's door, and awakened him.
"Father, grandma is worse. I believe
her dying. You must go to Dr. Berne.
You will find him at the ball. (Iro
quickly !"
She went hack and sat there wearily
wailing for something—for a sound, a
sign from the dying woman ; but 1101Ie
010110. Slowly, but perceptibly, the
lines settled around the pleasant mouth,
and the dark shadows crept over the
placid fare, but no sound issued from
the pale lips.
Jaunt bent her head. There was a
ntint flutter—no more, and she clasped
her hands. Would grandma die, there
before her eyes, and neverspeak a word?
She caught the cold hand in herown,
:old cried aloud :
lina! speak to ! speak to
your little Janet! Dun't you heed me,
gradina'."'
Ilut grandma heard nothing. The
chillness of death had settled down, and
even as she knelt there, the breath lied
and Janet was alone.
she understood it all when she arose,
and she sank back halt fainting' in the
arm-chair, near the bed.
"Janet, my poor !"
She lifted her head. Austin liosworth
was leaning over her.
"3.1. y little girl ! Why did you not
send word to me to-night, and let me
share pair sorrow r
"You, Austin ?"
" Yes, have I not—. All, forgive me!
This is no time or place. I missed you
as I have always missed you, hut thought
it was your own pleasure to retrial n ut
home. When your father came ill with
tl\vhite, frightened lace, and whispered
to Br. Berne, I knew you were in
trouble. I came it once, and Janie, I
shall out again leave you.''
She knew 'lris meaning, caul did not
put 10111 away, when he held her close
in his arms and drew her into the parlor.
1\ largarct and Lettie coming in with
their faces horror-stricken, saw him
holding her in Iris arms, her tired head
re,ting wearily upon his shoulder, and
the proud [kettle said:
"Mr. lioswertli—l sin surprised!"
" You need not be. This is my privi
lege, now and forever."
Three days after they gathered in that
same parlor to hear grandma's last will
and testament read. After some little
directions, it said :
And to my beloved granddaughter,
Janet Leeds, I bequeath the }lolines
estate, together with my entire stock of
furniture and money, amounting to ten
thousand dollars."
Janet'', father smiled upon hia aston
ished and erect-fallen daughters.
"It was mother's whim! She never
desired it to be known. Therefore you
Were ignorant of the fart that she hail a
dollar - lieyond tho annuity I held for
lier."
" \Viten, six months later, Austin and
Janet were married, her elder siste N
dared to say that he married her fur her
money. He knew better, and so did T.
How People Take Cold
Not by tumbling into the river and
dragging home as wet as a drowned rat;
not by being pitched into the mud, or
spilled out in the snow in sleighing
time; not by walking for hours, over
shoe-top in mud ; not by soaking in the
rain, without an umbrella; not by
scrubbing the floor until the unnamea
ble sticks to you like a wet rag ; not by
hoeing potatoes until you are in a lather
of sweat ; these are not the things which
give people colds; and yet they are all
the time telling us how they "caught
their death-cold by exposure."
'rite time for taking ;cold is far after
your exercise; the place is in your own
house, or office or counting-house. It
is not iu the act-of exercise which gives
the cold, but the getting cool too quick
after exercising. For example, you
walk very fast to the railroad station or
to the ferry, or to catch the omnibus, or
to make titre loran appointment ; your
mind being ahead of you, the body
makes an extra etthrt to keep up with it,
and when you get to the desired spot
you raise your hand and tied yourself
in a perspiration ; you take a seat and
feeling quite comfortable:as to tempera
ture, you begin to talk to a friend, or if a
New ,Yorker,to read a newspaper, and
before you are aware of it, you exper
ience a sensation of chilliness, awl the
things is done you look around to see
where the cold comes from, and lied an
open window near you, or a door, or that
you have taken a seat in the forward
part of the car, and it moving against
the wind, a strong, draft is made through
the crevices.-
After any kind of exercise, do not
stand a moment at any street corner, for
anybody or anything ; nor at any open
door or window. When you have been
exercising in any way whatever, winter
or summer, go home at once, or to sonic
sheltered place; and, however warm the
room may seem to lie, do not at once
pull 1,11 your hat and cloak, but wait
awhile—some five minutes or more, and
lay aside one thing at a time ; thus act
ing, at cold is impo s sible. Notice a mo
ment ; When you return from a brisk
walk and you enter a warm room, raise
your hat and your forehead will be
moist ; let the hat remain a few ma
mints and feel the forehead again,
and it will be dry, showing that
the room is actually cooler . than
your body, and that, with- out-door
clothing on, you have really cooled off
full soon enough. Many of the severest
colds I have ever known men to take,
were the result of sittingdowh:to a warm
meal in a cold room after a long walk;
or being engaged in writing, have let
the fire go out, and their first admoni
tion of it was that creeping chilliness
which :is the ordinary forerunner of a
severe cold. Persons have often lost
their lives by writing or readin in a
room where there was no fire, although
the weather outside was rather comfort
able. sleeping in rooms long unused
has destroyed the life of many a visitor
and friend. Our splendid parlors and
our nice spare rooms" help to enrich
many a doctor.—/fall's Journal of
Hut
==!
The Lowell News has the following details
of the case of trichinosis in that city, already
bristly referred to by telegraph:
The case occurred in the family of Mr.
Winthrop Gove, in Belvidere. The symp
toms manifested themselves in a swelling
of the face and body and a partial paralysis
of the limbs, but the cause was not known
until some six weeks after the illness of
most of the family. It was then ascertained
that a ham was purchased from a person in
Tewksbury, and all, it is understood, ate a
small piece while yet uncooked, and the
meat being filled with the animal parasite—
the trichina spiral's— as a subsequent ex
amination proved, furnisheda clue to their
illness. Four of the children and the father
and mother were prostrated, and for a time
were in a critical condition, but with the
exception of a lad about ten years old, who
is now very low, they are doing well.—
Strange to say, two of the children have
not been ill at all.
A Sermon
Preached in St.. Mary's Catholic Church,
on Easter Sunday, April 17th, 11370,
by Rev. T. J. Reilly, Pastor.
"And if Christ be not risen again, then is
our preachlu" vain, and your faith Is also
vain." —St. Paul's Epistle to Corinthians,
xv. 11.
The principal mysteries of religion, as
our catechism teaches us, are the Unity
and Trinity of God ; the Incarnation,
Death and Resurrection of our Saviour.
These are called the principal mysteries,
because they are.the most necessary to
be believed explicitly, and also because
all other mysteries are founded upon
them. But let us pass to the last of
these great truths, the one which we cel
ebrate to-day, that of the Resurrection,
the great argument that converted the
heathen world, and was the final proof
of the divinity of the mission of Christ.
He had foretold to the Jews that He
would rise again the third day. " De
stroy this Temple," said He," and in
three days I will raise it up again;"
but He spoke, talthough not as they un
derstood Him,) of the temple of His
body. He roved that His mission was
divine from His own profession. In His
conversation with the Samaritan wo
man, He tells her that He is the Mes
siah, who is called Christ. He affirms
it also in presence of His .pestles:
"Jesus saith to them,Whom do you say
that I cat? and Simon Peter answering,
said—Thou art Christ the Son of the liv
ing God." Christ did not deny it, but
strengthened him in his belief. "Bless
ed art thou Simon Bar-Jona, because
flesh and blood have not revisited it to
thee, but my Father who is in Heaven.
And 1 say to thee, that thou art Peter,
and upon this rock I will build my
church, and the gates of hell shall not
prevail against it." He made the same
profession in public. When curing the
man born blind, he said to hint : " Dos't
thou believe in the Son of God r lie said,
who is He, Lord, that I may believe in
Him? And Jesus said to him, Thou
bast both seen Him, and it is He who
talketh with thee." His life, also,
proved the divinity of His mission. He
said to the Jews, which of you shall
convince me of sin, and there was not
one found who could prove a single ac
cusation against Him. His doctrine was
in keeping also with the divine mission
He elaimed. " Never," said the Jews,
" did man speak like this man." Cen
turies have elapsed since, and there
never was a man who spoke as He spoke.
Ilk miracles, prophecies and death, are
convincing proofs of His divine doctrine
and mission from the Father...kit:hough
the Jews attributed the casting out of
evil spirits by Christ to the Devil, yet
they were forced to acknowledge His
power in working miracles, for the
Chief Priests and Pharisees said : ' what
do we, for this man doeth many mira
cles?" They said this when Christ had
raised Lazarus from the dead. They
could not say that he was only appa
rently dead; they had known that he
hart been in the grave four days, previ
ous to his being restored to life, and that
decomposition had already set in. And
now, as the last and the greatest proof
of Ills being the Son of God, He raises
Himself to life. The Resurrection then
is the greatest proof, because St. Paul
tells us if the Resurrection has not taken
place, if Christ has not risen again, then
we are preaching in vain—our faith is
of 110 avail. It is the greatest event in
the Christian world, because only
through it do the nations which so long
dwelt in the valley of darkness and ig
norance, now possess the light of Chris
tianity. In vain have those heroes of
the cross sacrificed wealth, pleasures,
fortunes and their lives, in order to pro
cure the salvation of theirsouls, if Christ
be not risen again. To no purpose
has Christ crucified been preached to
the nations that were groping their
way through Paganisin,Heathenism arid
infidelity, if hose not risen again front
dead. Useless and foolish were the mis
sions of these devoted soldiers of Christ
through savage, barbarous and semi
barbarous tribes to corh . ert 'them to
Christianity, and to oblige them to fol
low the commands of Christ, and
practice His doctrine, if the Resur
rection has not been accomplished.
All tire learning of theologians, philoso
phers and doctors, which refer to the
christian religion :old to the Redeemer
of the world avail nothing and are una
ble'to save a single soul if Christ be not
risen again. All the hooks written front
the beginning of ehristianity to the
present day establishing the Divinity of
Christ and His IlliS•i011, are so much
waste paper, because if Christ hums not
risen then is even preaching VlOll, rind
your faith is also vain.
Return to the time of the death of
Christ. After he was taken down from
the cross and laid in the sepulchre, his
tomb was guarded by a band of soldiers.
Pilate knew that he said he would rise I
again on the third day; therefore he
commanded the sepulchre to be guarded.
Why guard the sepulchre? For no
other reason than from fear of his dis
ciples stealing the body, and thereby
deluding the people by saying that he
has risen. But the contrary happened,
They guarded the sepulchre and whilst
guarding it, the Resurrection took place.
The unheard of event was immediately
announced by those who guarded it.
When it was preached for the first
time by St. Peter, on Pentecost, several
thousands of the Jews became converts,
among whom were many Jewish Priests.
Now it is a welt authenticated fact that
among the priests of the Jews there
were the most bitter enemies of Christ,
and they never would have become His
followers if the Resurrection had not
been proved beyond all reasonable
doubt. Nothing but its unquestionable
truth could compel the Apostles to an
nounce it, or the Jewish Priests to be
lieve it, or the proud heathens of Greece
and Rome to renounce the lax morality
of idolatry for the strict and severe laws
of the Gospel. It is curtain, therefore,
that on the third day he arose from the
tomb. For the certainty of this fact we
may have recourse even to profane his
tory. Many were the witnesses of his
death, because, he was condemned to I
death by the Jews, his bitter enemies.
There were also many credible witness
es of his Resurrection. Around the sepul
chre Roman soldiers guarded, and a
great stone, upon which the seal of the
Governor was placed, guarded the en
trance to the tomb. There could be no
more disinterested testimony than the
witness of these guards; for we must
remember that it was to their shame ,
that they guarded the dead whom even
the tomb could not confine. We do not
depend upon revelation alone for the
certainty of this fact. Many miracles
were performed in confirmation of this
great truth, and many interpositions of
Clod added force to the evidence by
which they every where preached Jesus
and the Resurrection. The Church of
Christ owes its labors to the mystery of
Christ's Resurrection; and its perpetuity
through all ages, as St. Augustine af
firms, is one of the greatest miracles. If
Christ had not arisen, there would be
no throne of St. Peter, no commission
of the Apostles, and no organization of
the Apostles into one body. The Catho
lic Church is immortal because she par
takes of the life of Christ. Her countless
altars at this day are proofs irreproach
able of the Resurrection of her founder.
No human hand could have fashioned her
features, or no power that is finite could
have preserved her in the midst of every
oppositiomandagainstenemiesbothspir
itual and earthly. There is no fact in
history more authenticated than the
Resurrection ; and consequently, they
who deny the Resurrection, must be
forced, from consistency, to deny every
I event of the past, and to close their
ears to all human testimony. How
absurd to suppose that sleeping wis
nesses could give evidence of Christ's
body being stolen by his disciples!—
How ridiculous, that the apostles could
steal the body of Christ when it is well I
known that they are the most cowardly
of men! St Peter thrice denied Christ,
although he affirmed that he would
rather die than deny him. When
Christ was apprehended by the Jews all
his disciples left him ; they even shut
themselves up in a room for fear of the
Jews, and notwithstanding all this how
can any one suppose that such men
would have the courage to go and take
away the body of Christ, guarded as it
was by Roman soldiers.
But let us pass to the testimony of St.
Paul. It would take too long to give his
argument ; it can be seen by referring to
his epistle to the Corinthians, from the
Ist to the 22d verse of the 15th chapter.
I will briefly quote some of the verses,
in which St. Paul proves the Resurrec
tion. In the 4th verse he says that
Christ was buried because he was really
dead, and that he rose again the third
day, as was predicted in the scriptures.
The next argument St. Paul makes
use of in proof of the Resurrection is the
testimony of St. Peter, the Pri nceof the
Mici!!
Apostles, to whom Christ appeared and
then to the Apostles. Afterwards he
was seen ,by , more than five hundred
or the brethren assembled together.
Afterwards he was seen by James, and
after that by all the Apostles and Dis
ciples at His ascension. And last of
all, He was seen by St. Paul himself.
Thus St. Paul proves the resurrection of
Christ, and protes also that if He be not
arisen, the dead Will nbt rise again. Be
cause by the disobedience of one man
death came into the world, so by the obe
dience .'of Christ death has been over
come. St. Paul continues his argument,
proving that such was the faith of him
self and of those who had seen Him, as
to leave not the least doubt of His Resur
rection. He asks this question of the
Corinthians: If it be a matter preached
by all the Apostles and confirmed by
their faith that Christ has risen, then
how comes it that some amongst you
say that:there is no such thing as Resur
rection of the dead? for if the dead will
not rise again, it follows that Christ has
not risen. Behold the lamentable con
dition of man, if, to-day, we are cele
brating an event that has never hap
pened ! It is not I who make known
to you this sad tale of misery; it comes
from the lips of one of the inspired
writers • it comes from the great Apos
tle of the Gentiles; from linn who laid
down his life for the preaching of
Christ crucified and His Resurrection
According to this great Apostle, there
is no such thing as religion, if we sup
pose the falsity of the Resurrection.
Away with all faith, with all worship.
Keep not the commands and follow not
the precepts of the church which Jesus
Christ established, because we have no
faith, we cannot follow the teachings of
an imposter and a deceiver—one who
could say that He was the Son of Clod,
that He was the life and the Resurrec
tion ; that He would raise himself on the
third day. Destroy this temple, he said
to the Jews, and in three days I will
raise it up again. Let St. Paul tell us
the consequences of supposing that
Christ has not arisen. hi the first place,
he says, our faith is of no avail, because
it would be founded upon the words of
a man who would have proved himself
to be an imposter, and consequently the
preaching of the Apostles would be so
many idle words, because they had their
commission to teach all nations from
'din. Second, lie affirms that he and
the rest of the Apostles would be con
victed of being false witnesses, and of
being witnesses against lod. Sine(' pre
tending to act upon his authority, we
attributed to him a fact, namely . , His
Resurrection, which He would never
have accomplised if the dead do not rise
again. For, says he, if they will not
arise, neither has Christ arisen ; and
again he draws the necessary conse
quence, that if Christ be not risen, your
faith is vain, and the forgiveness of
your sins, for your sins are still unre
mitted. The last consequence St. Paul
draws from denying the Resurrection of
Christ is, that all those who have
died, professing the Christian re-
'igloo, are lost for all eternity, be-'
cause, he says, they died 'professing
a false faith; and without faith it is im
possible to please God. And further
more he tells us, that if our hope hi
Christ is to be confined to the present
life, we are the most miserable beings
that dwell upon the face of the earth ;
because we aro debarred by our religion
from certain pleasures which others
freely enjoy, who are less observant of
religious ordinances.
But let us pass from the inane argu
ments of St. Paul, proving the resur
rection of our bodies at the last day from
the fact of Christ having arisen, to that
portion of His discourse where lie tells
us that He is truly risen. Let us put in
practice the great precepts which this
most glorious event in the Christian
world teaches us. Theory and practice
are two distinct terms. Our belief alone
in it will avail us nothing in the world
to conic, if those graces and blessings
which it procured for us are not applied
to our souls. The great precept it teach
es us is, th,at we inthq arise from the
state of sin, from those habits of sloth
fulness, indolence, lultewarinness and
indifference in those duties Which per
tain to our eternal happiness. The Re
surrection teaches us to arise to a new
life of grace ; to put aside every spirit of
pride, auger, envy, hatred and revenge;
to avoid all occasions of sin ; to fly front
all temptations ; in fine, in the words
of the Apostle, to put on the new man.
He has arisen to perform the last great
act of love towards inert, namely, that
they may also one day arise to the en
joy-went of a blissful immortality. The
great drama of life has been accomplish
ed, and death and the grave have lost
their sting and victory. The incarna
tion, death and resurrection of the Son
of God have been accomplished—pro
phecy thereby giving way to the fulfil
ment—the symbol changing place with
the reality. All of religion that is holy
and divine is founded upon these mys
teries. Tu what shall we attribute all
that is beautiful, good and true in the
Christian life? Front whence springs
the Faith, Hpe and Charity of the
Christian world? To what shall be at
tributed its progress in civilization, if it
be not to religion founded upon these
mysteries of the incarnation, the death
and Resurrection of Christ?
We may go back over Isoe years and
listen to the glorious tidings that an
nounced to t world the birth of its
Redeemer. star appears in the
heaven and directs the shepherds to the
stable in which they may find the new
born King. The angels came forth from
their celestial abodes, and herald the
praises of the infant Redeemer in these
words: "Glory be to God on high!
and peace on earth to men of good will !"
Thirty-three years have glided by when
instead lof joy pervading the hearts of
the young and the old, the whole world
has been thrown into the deepest
mourning, for its Redeemer hangs sits
pended between Heaven and earth, a
victim immolated for the sins of men.—
Nature, in place of rejoicing, now
mourns; the sun is darkened; the reeks
are rent asunder! the graves open and
the dead come forth ; fear pervades the
whole earth, and those who doubted of
his being the Gud-man now acknowl
edged him to have been truly the Son
of God. Ife is borne to the tomb; a few
followers accompany hint to his sepul
chre; he remains entombed for three
days ; to-day he rises triumphantly over
death, and once more the earth rejoices
at his coining forth. The first light of
dawn breaks the seal of Pilate,a nil rolls
back the stone front the sepulchre. The
sun comes forth with its accustomed
splendor, and spreads its beams over
valley and mountain. The lofty elms
erect their heads with pride ; the flowers
seem to acknowledge the Resurrection of
their Maker; the birds of the air are not
behind the rest in their joyful songs;
the streams leap for joy, and the mighty
ocean swells the chorus of thanksgiving.
Man also awakes from the long night of
doubt and fear. It is then meet and
right to praise, on this day, the work of
grace, and to extol the magnificence of
the plan of salvation. We may expect
conflicts with our adversary. Disease
may lay hold of the upright form, and it
stoops at his bidding. Comeliness passes
away, and manly strength is no more.
The strong man is once more a child.—
The soul separates from the body, and
the body is consigned to corruption.—
The most beautiful face shall only be
food for worms, and the bright eye shall
grow dim when the king of terrors
comes. Yet the Holy Scripture,tells us
that this dissolution is only a sleep in
Jesus ; and why is it asleep except that
the flesh shall one day awake again and
put on new vigor? "He that euteth my
flesh and drinketh my blood bath ever
lasting life; and I will raise him up at the
last day." Our bodies will moulder in
the dust to arise free from every evil de
sire,to clothe themselves with incorrup
tion, when the Resurrection shall call
them to blessedness—arise ye dead and
come to judgment. The triumph this
day is that of the second Adam ; it is a
complete victory for us; and he that
rises up this morning goes as from the
grave, Heaven with all its happiness is
presented to our vision.
Let the penitent shed tears no longer.
The past should be forgotten and the
things of the future should be our only
occupation. The bright future awaits us.
Light and shade are no more, for the
risen Son of God accompanies us and the
light of his transfigured humanity illu
mines our whole being. The lights from
the towers of the Heavenly Jerusalem
directs our steps thither, and the waters
that roll between us and that place of
final rest will be to us as du land. Only
the elect of God shall go to their eternal
rest.
The ways of fortune are wonderful.
Mollie Scottiu, a Chicago woman of 11l
ratite (of the lowest order), he has be
come heir to an estate in Scotland, left
by her uncle, worth $1,500,000.
liallroad Bubbleq.
Public attention all over the country is
being aroused to the huge robberies of the
public domain. Senator Thurman is doing
yeoman's service in the much needed ex
posure of these frauds. He made the state
ment a few days ago in his place in the
Senate that land grants to four of the Pa
cific Railroad Companies—the Union, the
Central, the Atlantic, and the Northern—as'
shown by the official record, amount to an
aggregate of one hundred and twenty-four
million acres' Nearly a-9 much land as
there is in the States of Ohio, Indiana, Illi
nois, Wisconsin and Michigan. Five times
as much land as there isin the State of Ohio.
In addition to this, fifty-eight million acres
have been granted to other railroad corpora
tions, making ono hundred and eighty-two
million acres in all—a grant, in the aggre
gate, more than the entire territory of what
used to be milled the Great Northwest. This
was said while the bill of the Northern Pa
cific Railroad, about which there has been
so much talk in and out of Congress, was
under consideration—the road, which of all
others, as Senator Harlan, of lowa, clearly
proved, has been the greatest beneficiary of
the Government, but which is yet crying
for more. Its present application has for
its object three things, viz: to make a land
grant for the branch line front Portland,
Oregon, to Puget Sound, which now has
nothing but a right of way ; to aulhorise the
company to mortgage its whole line and all
il3 loads, and to give it more land than it
can now get under existing laws. The
original act of six yaws agogives the com
pany the odd sections of land within twen
ty miles on each side of the line in 'Wis
consin, Minnesota and Oregon, and within
forty miles on each side in all the Terri
tories. Since it was passed settlers have
taken up solos lands in the States, and the
company now asks to have the original
grant made good by an extension of ten
miles on each side if' the line, of the limit
within which it may make selection—thus
giving the company half the land in a belt
a hundred miles wide across the continent.
Philadelphia has been the great centre of
the manipulation necessary to the revival,
:d'thissix years neglected enterprise. Some
live millions, more or less, of 7 per cent
gold-bearing bonds were originally divided
in twelfths among a " ring ' of operators,
to be again divided and sub-divided,
until they finally fall into the hands
of small owitalists and people who
are illy able to bear the loss which
must be experienced before the work
can become productive, if ever it should.—
The live millions of bonds now being sold
arc intended for the construction of two
hundred miles of the eastern end of the
road—a snot, ILS experts estimate, nu:re than
twice as much as is necessary for the pur
pose, leaving the very handsome margin, if
the estimate be correct, of ober two and a
half millions of dollars as profit to COll
- and their confederates. There are
two reports circulating in connection with
the resuscitation of this enterprise, which
may or may not be entirely correct. One is
that the live millions of bonds beingplaced
::n the market, is at a oust of 12 per cent. or
six hundred thousand dollars on the entire
live millions, an amount, if true, indicating
extraordinary risk; and the other is,
that
the control and direction of the work is to
be confined to the " ring' of directors who
have comparatively little, if any, interest
in it, to the exclusion of the bondholders
who furnish all the monev. If these re
ports are true they acemint for the great
zeal manifested by the sellers of the builds,
and show pretty conclusively where the
risk of failure is thrown in the end. But
this is not all. Senator Thurman, in fol
lowing up his exposure, says:
" The promoters of this road t the North
ern Pacithlwhen they asked for it and ask
ed for this enormous grant of land, such a
grant as never had been made before, pro
fessed that with it, and without any money ,
subsidy, and without any mortgage on the
road to defraud anybody, they would go on
and make the road. They professed ex
treme honesty. I infer from the charter
that was passed giving, them this grant,
that they would not put arty bonds upon
the market by which anybody could be de
ceived or by which the road could be sold out.
They would not ask any money subsidy
from the I lovermuent at all, but they would
raise the necessary capital and go on and
build the road, and rely on the land subsidy
to reimburse themselves, together with the
trotits of the road.
Now, sir, what is it that they ask? They
ask that Congress shall authorize them to
make a mortgage not simply upon the road,
but upon evcry dollar's worth of property,
real, personal, or mired, that (low own; and
not only that, but upon their corporate fran
ohises trail franchise of being a corporation.
It that nit trtgage is given—a mortgage given
before there is one single shovelful of earth
dug out, before there is anything done
whatever; a mortgage put upon this road
without any lint itatton whatsoever as to the
price for which the bonds may sell—what, 1
at•tk, trill be the ultimate fate of the road
under such a mortgage—a mortgage unlim
ited in amount under which two hundred
millions of dollar's of bonds may be put up
on the market without any limitation what
soever as the price for which they shall sell
or the interest which they shall bear? Does
nut any man who has the least experience
in the history of railroads in this country
know that there can be but one outcome to
such a mortgage as (hat, and that is the sale
of all this property under that mortgage nail
its purchase by a "ring" in the company
itsselP That is the common history of
railroads—the sale of everything under this
mortgage and a purchase by a "ring"
among the stockholders themselves. That
is to be the long and short of it.
" After the profits that shall have result
ed front manipulating the bonds, after the
commissions that shall have been paid to
some banker or broker, perhaps an inter
ested individual in the concern, after he
shall have squeezed the orange and got till
he can get out of it, in the end the whole
thing trill go to sale under the mortgage,
and all the property belonging to this cum
pany, and given to it by the Oovernmenb
will become the property of a "ring" in
the corporation itself, and freed from its
liabilities because sold under thelpriur lien
of the mortgage. Then those who are cred
itors to that company, then those to whom
it has become indebted, may whistle fur
their pay. This " ring" will have the road
and all its property under the prior lien of
the mortgage, in - d the stockholders who
are not in the " ring" anti the creditors
who are not secured by the mortgage may
whistle for their pay."
These warnings are not more alarming
than are warranted. There has not proba•
bly been a time since the celebrated "South
Sea Bubble," when so much money was
running into wild hazard as at the present
time. It is counted by hundreds of mil
lions, and railway company bonds seem to
be inviting much the larger amount of
those vast sums. Not only is every avail
able dollar in the home Market, that bold
and reckless promises of profitable return,
can bring to this great maelstrom which
threatens to engulph it all, sought for and
obtained, but never, in the history of the
world, were there, as now, so many agents
traversing all Europe in search of money
and borrowing it on almost any terms, giv
ing any required amount of promises. We
are informed that throughout all Ger
many the most untiring Worts are
making, not only to command capital to
invest in this Northern Pacific enterprise,
but the most costly and tempting induce
ments ever known are making to invite
immigration. There are not only plots of
towns and cities graphically displayed on
paper, but models oftntvns, the whole bark
ed with offers of through tickets to pur
chasers of land to the particular town or
eity, not vet built, that may be selected.—
The day In winch to test values is coming,
and is nearer than many jubilant lenders
and more jubilant borrowers suppose. The
last number of the London Times received
at this office notices as just negotiated there
a loan of $1,000,000 of 7 per cent. bonds for
the St. Louis Bridge Company lane. Front
Frankfurt, the lierman money centre, the
advises are that the subscription for $3,000,-
000 mortgage bonds of the Oregon-Cali
fornia Railway, at 7'l, has been suc
cessful, and that 31,000,000 of the
Port Royal are advertised at 731 per
cent. At the same time it is reported
that agents have already arrived in
Europe to procure the sale of One hundred
millions of dollars of bonds of the projected
Northern Pacific Railroad, of which a sum
of $1,000,000 has been taken "firm" by the
eOneuetoret to cover expenses, while the
rest is on option. " This, the Times says,
" it is asserted will be strenuously resisted
from all sides, and open the eyes of the
Prussian Government as to the danger of
allowing parties in America to explore that
country in their private interest, without of
fering any guarantee as to the fulfilment of
their liabilities. There 'is scarcely a doubt
that the next financial crisis in this country
will come through the wild and extravagant
expenditures of money on railway, many of
which projects are not only in advance of
any existing business from which they can
derive the least traffic, but it is openly con
fessed that the roads aro expected to make
the business on which they hope to live.
Not only is this so, but there are numerous
competing lines of this character, rendbling
it physically and morally impossible that all
adequate trade can grow up to their capa
city and maintenance in the next fifty years.
There seems to be three grand objects in
view by these railway speculators. First,
by concerted movement in Congress obtain
the largest possible amount of the public
domain—experience having shown that the
larger the amount asked for the more will
there be for corrupting influences, and the
easier will the measure be legislated
through. Second, to borrow the largest
I possible sum of money on loans at any rate
of interest that an extravagant promise
to pay will command, as the more
that is obtained the longer and more
readily, in the absence of revenues,
can the interest bo paid, affording time
for the sale of land; and, third, when all
the land and all the loans of money aro
obtained, and all the labor thatcan be work
ed out of the German immigration that it
is hoped may be tempted - from their peace
ful homes to this wilderness is expended,
then as Senator Thurman shows, to fore-
-
MMEJ
NUMER 17.
close the covert mortgage, and the "ring"
within the companies themselves boomie
the sole owners.—Phitedelphia.
A' Former Newspaper Sinn Commits
Npleide—Donnestle Unhapplimar the
The St. Louis Democrat, of the 14th inst.,
says:—We yesterday received from Acres'
Landing, a point on the Illinois side of
the river, twelve miles below this city, a
letter from Mr. John MeCullen, stating
that an inquest had been hold upon the
body of a man found in the river at that
place. During the progress of the inquest
a letter was found upon the body, telling a
mournful story of misfortune and suffering,
and almost conclusively proving that the
writer had committed suicide.
Tho story of friends' desertion, a dearly
loved wife's inconstancy, a happy home de
stroyed, and subsequent misfortune and
distress, is briefly and bitterly told in the
letter penned by the unhappy 111:111. lle
was evidently a person of education and
ability, and had he not been crushed in
spirit and bowed down With sorroNV St , as 01
wish to leave the world, he might still have
tilled a position of intluenee and import
ance.
.Nlr. McCullen describe, the body as that
of a man apparently about thirty years
of ago, having lark hair and eyes,
and being decently dressed. Tin, corpse
had apparently been in the water two or
three days.
The letter spoken of WiLS fiallal in one of
the pockets, anti ‘va, inclosed in a tamituon
white envelope, 011 Which Was inserih,al iu
a rather handsome running hand: "To
him who finds Inv body, St. Lau is, 10th
April." The epistle was tunnel tan two
half sheets of letter-papor, .evil the ink n
slightly tailed from soaking in the wider.
The contents were as follows:
A ruts, ln , lstd.
To Then rho my Body:
Driven to desperation by the km err ledge
that my wife was the mistress of a bar_
lived scoundrel before her marriage with
me, and learning that she has proved re
creant to her vows since she bevame my .
wife; "tired of the whips and sears of tinie;"
the forcing of a fitlse claim by the treasurer
or the Academy or Music, (levet:lna, "hie s
seein g , nothing in the great to-morrow of
my existence here but 0 hile of wretched
ness, 1 have resolved to pin an end to lily
life, to find in the troubled waters id the
Miasissippi a rest from these things.
As tt member oC the press, on the edito
rial staff of the Cleveland !herald tool
Plaindealer, I tried to build up lin honor
able record, hut adversity has met me at
every corner of life, and 1 am sick of the
effort. If the press give this a pbwe. in their
eollitilus let them do lite one last favor. Do
not deal harshly with one who has tried to
light the sins and teniptationS, but who has
filllen. I irate no relations to mourn Inv
loss, only a wife who is not a wile. Will
the ediVir send her a copy or the patior in
which this is published--Mrs. E. Laurie
Hashleigh, Carbondale, Pennsylvania" I
have no message for one. o lost to all honor.
Absit inuidia! I Mars this world, and hope
lie will forgive the deed..
MIEUEMIIII
Mr. Merullen informs us that the body
was decently buried, and the coroner wrote
to the widow of the unhappy man, inform
ing her of his death, and the circumstances
connected with the inquest. It k probable
littshleigh arrived here on ono of the pack
ets, and without lauding in 0.5,4 sprang
front the boat to the river to lied the rest
he thtiught impossible in this world. It
was at first supposed the man might have
been murdered, and the letter placed upon
the body to mislead justice and prevent
suspicion, but as no marks of viidencv are
to be found there is scarcely a doubt but the
letter tells the story only 1.0,
The Life of it Despernalo
A few years ago, Mr. Meyers, an old San
Francisco jeweler, upon going to his store
one afternoon, found his son, the only at
tendant, beaten nearly to death, and nearly
worth of jewelry stolen. The police
searched for the villain tier months, acid
boat' y caught hint at Fort Prescott, Ari
zona, where he had just arrived from \lex
ica.
10 was a tall raw-boned individual,
named John Kelley. lle had gone to Cali
fornia with the notorious I ith Regiment of
United States luihn try, and said he had de
serted after the regiment had reached San
Francisco.
While at Fort Prescott, cc Idyll is situated
on a precipice fifty feet above a stream, he
broke from his guard-house One night,
dashed past the sentinel, and leaped boldly
over the cliff, escaping without injury. lli
was next heard of at the Santi Rita Mine in
Arizona, where he worked at blacksmith
ing, and tried to stab the superintendent
of the mine, a Mr. (frosvenor. Before
leaving he took ono oldie employees of the
'nines to his rosins, where he epened his
trunk and exhibited to hint eighteen pairs
of human cars, which he said he had out
from the heads of eighteen persons that he
had killed since he had deserted front the
army, and that he had sworn to increase
the number to twenty-five before he would
stop.
From there he went to Tic
where lie killed a man with whom he had
a quarrel, and, as the sympathies of the
inhabitants were With the murdered to tun,
Kelley found it necessary to leave that
part of the country to escape lynch law.
From that place he went to Ellihuallua,
near which city he murdered his travel
ling companion Mr Ids money. Several
months ago he brutally tiLinfored a fatu
ity of four persons near El Paso de Norte,
for the sake of few dollars.
Kelley, who hadacquired the name of the
" Arizona Rutban," was then arrested by
some of the inhabitants of the city named,
who wreaked their VellgCall , e WI 111111.—
They carried him into a wood some dis
tance from the city, where they tint one
end of a rope to the limb of a tree, and to
the other fastened Kelley by the hock, so
that his head hung within a few fret of the
ground. They then built a slow lire under
him and allowed him to remain suspended
until death put an end to his existence.
A Disciple of the New York Tribune
The New York Times eunutionts with
just severity upon Mrs. lithium, whose
letters to Mrs. McFarland are published in
connection with the reports of the McFar
-I=3 trial. The Times says :
The more we read of this wonderful per
son's letters, the more we envy any con
temporary which can boast of the inestima
ble advantage of her assistance. She, of
course, [Heil her hardest to Induee Mrs.
McFarland to desert her husband. tier
superior lights showed her that it was
" profanation " for her friend to live as in
wife. A woman of so much diseernment
is the very person to write moral articles
inn a moral newspaper. She could
instruct wives in their duties to their
husbands, while her illustrious col
league, inn the intervals of his dancing ex
ercises, taught a benighted world the sci
ences of political economy and farming.
There is nothing surprising inn seeing an
agricultural professor skipping about inn
the meadows among the young lambs. As
As for the lady, the string ought to be
taken off her so that she may warble more
freely. Verily, such a woman is a crown
to her husband—who, by the way, seldom
makes his appearance inn these letters.
Once or twice he flutters feebly across them
as a "Mr. C." hut when the lady writes;
"Do you know who is my panacea for all
my woes," it was not by any means Mr.
C. she referred to. And then to think
that oven this superb production of na
ture seas 1101 always happy. So, alas.'
the letters prove. Was ind, Alexander
himself afflicted with depression of spir
its? Tine world, it appears, did nit prop
erly appreciate Mrs. Calhoun. It will
make amends for its neglect 110 W. "
know, - she writes, "there is as much inn
me as inn Anna Dickinson. - Again, "
must e'en feed myself with paving -stones,
I fear." What a fate to overcome a dis
tinguished journalist! The fare of the
literary brotherhood is often suppo,ed to
be hard enough, hint inn these days SOTIIO
- a little easier of digestion than a pav
ing-stone is usually procurable. It is in
pretty picture of life, take it nfflogether.—
Hero is a woman writing letters to her
friends such as wo find inn stupid romances,
and thinking that she is going to transfiirni
all the social relations of mankind by her
disordered dreams. It would be ridiculous
if we did not see the mischief which has
actually been wrought. People who are
not satisfied with the world as they find it
usually end by making it worse than it was
before. No one now am think very highly
even of Mrs. Cai 110 LW, I.IIIIOSS it be that de
voted follower of Terpsichore who, it ap
pears, spends his vacations in dancing at
Saratoga.
Clergymen in Trouble
An unfortunate "Doctor of Divinity" in
A Ileghany, Pa., is in trouble. fie engaged
himself to marry the daughter of a poor
and respectable widow in his congregation,
and loft her "for an heiress in an Eastern
state—the sagacious but mercenary Doctor
of Divinity! The jilted young woman pro
duces "ninety-six notes and letters which
he wrote to her." Ile acknowledges hand
writing, protestations, promises, and all,
but states that at the time he composed and
transmitted these billetdou x he WM4 laboring
under "mental weakness;" but the plea can
not be received, since it is evident that he
didn't know his own mind at all. Apro
po3 of this cheerful illustration of the rela
tion of the clergy to the laity, we have
another anecdote. At Cedar Rapids, lowa,
the Rev. C. Baird has had a serious time
with his congregation. What was his
trouble? Why, that he permitted Mrs.
Baird
." to use her name as an agent of a
sewing -machine company." M o pause
aghast! Why, we might say that the wives
of half the clergymen in the country, If
they havn' t actually sold sewing-machines,
have written undisguised putts of this or
that particular machine; and occasionally
the good man himself has taken up the pen
in behalf of this or that:company. Poor
Mr. and Mrs. Baird I To have such a re
fined and over-sensitive dock ! But Baird
is plucky and will not stand it; for he has
already preached his farewell sermon.—N.
Y. Tribune.
BUSINF , L4 An.YZOTOW.3(g:4I,‘, year
_NKr
squre of,toorlinoil• lOt per Yoor for oodriollin
tlolinl nqoars. • ' • .. . .t.;
REAL ESTATE A DYERTISIIIO, 10 cents n ISIIO for
the dot, end 5 cent,llsor gads Atutyieritient;,l.l
-
Insertion.
GlgTi t.
iPeeTtlitirTtftie7hTittregiglir„.37RE
SPECTAiNoticta inserted . ut LoMil Columns
li cents per Ulm.
SPECIAL NOTIPP-9 prrretllng marrtaiyeor
10 mine par line for linntAuseriloni
and s.centa for every subncquent Inmertiop.
LECAL AND OTEIER ,NoTicni—
Executorg'
Administrator.' **** Co
51 )
A.lgnk , s' not lees -
2 CO
A mllton ic
e notes
Other " Notievh," ten I Ines,'or le_ss,
At
three times
aus en. Grant Is t..c4 by llleh Men
From ilto Trlbum.
President Grant has one defect of ithame
ter rarely inot with in high plat...is—an in•
explicable respect fur rich men. Nov a
rich man without recognition of some kind
is one of the poorest of human creatures.—
Either commerce, literature, society, or
politics is necessary to make hint happy,
and this is why so many dunces sit in the
Senate soil House, paying out their money
to tie noticed. This sort, of man is ilia, it' ho
have a republican conscience, to lie a good
sort of i,an for a President to take by the
hand now and then, to encourage him with
the fact that even enterprise is not the Worst,
thing in the State, and to assure him tint
respectable wealth need not debar any per
son from visiting Magistracy occasionally.
Now, why should the President take
pkitsiire in such merely rich men as Bork
and Corbin or, worse vet, in sttelt illslgn
ing rich men as Oakes Ames, Daniel Mor
rell, and others who are, of course, pinned
with his attentions and interested in his
person, lint who have Inure important de
signs than either social recognition or his
turiwil reminiscence? If they lied that
they can lilt Tess the PrOSidelit WWI their
views, merely by then 'newt of their riches,
they will use hint to their till, and blast his
adininistrutioll with Cheir fulsome praise
.mil insidious advice.
The President's best advisers are not to
be haunt lit the private closet. The days
of the privy isitincil went out with Claren
don and the Third Stuart. The Presiden's
iulvisers should he the better press of the
century, and the in of the main -headed
poor—the ever-taxed farmer, the idle sailor,
the immigrant. It is mortifving to our
conceptions Of the American Chief Magis
trate that he should fts‘l the contact or any
Mall, much less a merely rich one. This
is the weakness of (ton. Grant —the real
weakness! Ile is used. tie is Impressible!
Ile is an abused Man! Ilis relatives have
out hilt, in the nice sense of dello:ley, the
iluty they owed list to abstain front solie
ing federal favors, of them are In
office. Others have tried to grow rich by
obtaining his ear. It w more than pieba
ld,. that Corbin swindled Fisk and Mould
out of $lOO,OOO by using the Mime of Presi
dent li rant, lint if Corbin had grown rich
Criesus by his high relationship, it would
have been a less daligerolis symptom than
the known !het that people who haVOinlilnli
ed to opulence by the barbarism and slips
of legislation are looked upon by the Presi
dent as the best exponents of A merlean
We have been shown by a gentleman
%vim arrived on the last steamer from Japan,
:t crab or proportions far exceeding any
thing in d:shellfish line that we have over
read or heard of. N4il even the marvelous
ielithyologii•al wonders seen and recorded
by that prince of " fish story " (idlers, old
Bishop ('ompopidian (to whom we are
mainly indebted for our knowlodge of nos
serpents, gigantic cattle-fish and other
marine monsters), had fully prepared lil
realize the huge dimensions of this king of
Crllslaveil. It was captured last month in
the liay of Veil°, clinging to the wreck of
the ill-fated United States corvette .onelda,
by some native fishermen employed by the
Japanese :iuthicrities to drag the spot whore
the eolfision occurred, for the purpose of
recovering the bodies of um.° who wont
down with the vessel. From tip to Lip of
the claws (which are furnished with two
rows of regular teeth), it measures some
thirteen feet, and weighed, we are told,
when Laken front the water, within a frac
tion of forty pounds. The mouth mid eyes
of this monster of the deep somewhat re
semble those of the toad, and tho former is
armed with two lon, tusk-like teeth, mad
surrounded by circ les of stiff, wiry hair,
like that seen in the mouth of the whale.
IL differs from the ordinary crab in the
conformation of the legs, claws and carapax
the first having a greater number of Joints.
the second resembling the skeleton of a
human log, while the ca rapax or shell is
covered with irregular knobs or exeros
,nces. In (inter that the public generally,
and our In particular, may
have an opportunity of examining this
singular inhabitant of "ocean's caves," the
possessor intends 14i Pra/1-
4,..y,
The I I on. Jesse 11. Grant, the President's
father, is Postmaster of Covington, I‘l%,
having lately been confirmed to that (Mien
by the appreciative Senate. lie was orig
inally appointed by President Johnsou tilt
the request of Gen. U rant, and at the same
time the salary of the office was raised front
:: , ..2,51.111 a, 33,51/0 a year. As Father rant—
as the Cincinnati papers tall him—by mov
ing the Post Office I run Miulison street bi
Stott street, gets the rent from the owner
if the building in consideration of the ad
vantage to the property of having the Post
Office en the premises ; and as portions of
the building appropriated to the old gentle
use are rented out by him for news
stands, apple stands, and the like, It In
believed that he h u ts suceeeded in raising
the value of the offiee to its incumbent
materially-. Ile is probably the must inef
ficient Postmaster in the country, and is
kept in office against the strongly expressed
wishes of a great majority of the citizens of
Covington, of all shades of political opinion.
Father if rant's last exploit in the mutter
if serving his friends with the powers
that be, occurred in the Cilse of ono S.
S. Newman, of Covington, who had
been convicted of issuing mid using
counterfeit tobacco stamps, and sentenced
to pay a lino of 310,000 and to stand impris
oned until the line should be paid. Father
Grant posted to Washington to
behalf, and shortly returned jubilant, with
the promise, so it is generally believed, of
uwinan'm pardon. ISM such strong rove
sentations were sent to the Government as
to the effect on the collection of the revenue
if so respectable a culprit should be pardon
ed, that the expected release did nut rome,
and Mr. Newman at the last accounts was
still employing himself in playing euchre
with his Jailer.
It is generally believed in Cincinnati and
Covington that Father Grant is In constant
vorrespondence with the Administration,
and exerts a powerful influence upon Its
policy.—N. I'. Sun.
Narrow Excape of a Railroad Train--
Noble Conduct of a Woman and Her
Non.
The forethought and humanity of a wor
thy woman and her son have prevented a
catastrophe fully equal to, and perhaps sur
passing the dreadful Carr's Rock disaster,
which occured about a year ago on the Erie
Road. On Monday afternoon, as the Cin
einnati express train, which is due In New
York at 4:10 p. in., was approaching at the
usual rapid rate of speed the notorious
Carr's Rock, about 10 miles beyond Port
Jervis, the engineer saw on the track before
him a boy waving a yellow handkerchief,
and signaling hint to stop. The whistle for
"Mown brakes" seas at once sounded, and
the engine slowly driven up to where the
boy stood, and the passengers crowded
around him as he explained that his mother
had been down on the bank of the river a
short time before, and happening to look
in the direction of Carr's Rock, about a
mile distant, observed a MIDIS of rock fall
upon the track, II feet below, and hoard
rite loud crash as it struck the road anti
rails. Knowing t h e terrible danger which
menaced the train, now nearly duo, and re
membering the recent disaster, she hur
riedly dispatched her little boy, who was
fishing at the time on the bank of the river,
along the road to signal the approaching
train.
Upon arriviing at the scene of the crash
the inside rail was found to be bent in to
ward its companion, and an hour and a
half was required to repair the damage so
that the train could pass and continue to
New York. The little fellow, who had so
certainly averted an awful calamity, was
rewarded with a $lO bill, which the Super
intendent of the Division, who arrived soon
:kilter, placed in his hand. The name of the
worthy woman is not given, but it is to be
obtained, when she will in all probability
lie fittingly rewarded for her prompt ac
tion, whirls preserved the train and the
lives of all on board.—N. Y. Tribune.
Tying the Flag to the North Pole.
The Chicago 2, met is responsible fur the
subjoined pieeo of high treason:
Capt. Hall, the Arctic explorer, proposes
for the sum of $lOO,OOO, to tie the American
flag to the North Polo. Captain Hall Is
more outspoken than some of the Wash
ington "attorneys," who practice in a sim
ilar line of business, though his prices seem
not to be higher. Mr. Hobert J. Walker
received a much larger sum for tying the
American flag to a polo in Alaska, and of
the $13.50,003 that was more recently sent out
to tie the American flag to a polo In San
Domingo, only about $410,000 is said to have
been disbursed there; the remainder re
turned to Washington in the same ship,
along with the attorney who "tied the Mtg."
Tying the American :lag to a polo some
where is one of the most profitable branches
oflaw practice which Washington attorneys
now find to occupy their business hours.
The Lady Yemeni Saying their Prayers.
A little circumstance connected with the
late term of Court comes to our knowledge,
which we aro inclined to make public, oven
at the risk of betraying confidence. Dur
ing the long and tedious Howie murder
trial, the jury (of whom ono-half were la
dies) were not permitted to separate and go
to their homes, but were, under tho charge
of bailiffs (one lady and gentleman) taken
to the hotel for their meals, and lodging
was provided for them in the adjoining
parlors, each under the charge of their
bailiff. And hero, every morning during
the' trial, upon arising from their beds,
these ladies kneeled together, and, like the
child Solomon, asked wisdom of God to
enable them to properly and wisely dis
charge their now and arduous duties.
While their male associates wore engaged
in boisterous mirth and trifling levity
they, with the full consciousness of.the re
sponsibility resting upon them, wereseek
ing aid at the throne of the Illwiss.—Lara
mic .Sentinel.