THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER
PUBLISHED BEERY WEDNESDAY DT
11. G. SMITH de CO
A. J. STEINMAN
H. G. SMITH
TFIRMS—Tam Dollars per annum payable
In all eases In advance.
THE LANCASTIM DAILY INTELLIGE.ICRR 18
pllblialied every evening, Sunday excepted, at
V. l per annum In advance.
OFFICa-SOUTIINVFAT CORNFAL OF CIiNTRE
HQIYAILE.
ipoetrp.
SUMMER RAIN
What mound so sweet,
After a day of fiery heat,
And sun-strokes In the dusty street,
As the pleasant VOien Of l he tiloglog rain
Dashing against the Window pane?
The queenly rose
And vassal floWers their eyes unclose!
While God Ills heillson bestows:
And the sick numb dreams of health tumln,
Cheered by the (Tanta, of the drooping ride
The bubbles bleak
While showers thNeend nu the breezy lake,
And the water nymphs from slumber Wak,
Homeward driving his harvest wale
'l'llo farmer curses the cooling rah,
The plague fiend stops
In Ills dread career to hear the drupe ;
Then, farmer, why Insure o'er your crops;
Trutt faith sublime rider Imned In vain
On the Power that, serials us the healing rale
It brlngeth core
T.) the blistered feet of the starving poor,
And their hearts are struo4thonett to entilll . o
While we, In lore with We Itgalti,
• Ills hot brow harem to the welcome rain.
Or murmuring tMells
And the silvery 1101111:Or fairy
NN'ere never burn smell music
the visinnary Wale
of listening Lard MS the summer rain
Earth loolzg more fair
When drops that banish the sun's hot glare
lull from the elitteron of upper air;
And her breast. is IleallSeci of ontoy a stain
IV the gentle h u ll, of the summer 1,111.
It caught Its Ailing.,
Not In Inn+ fading ta.alln of lino,.
MIL ili/OVV, a 1.,: In a honor 1.111111.:
And I ever !war .in anger:, strain
liit'llti 1110 it all 1/I the num., rain
N4lcolic.llrsl 1:111111 . III• n.4dnm wn•d.
rnilt, ID, cull. .kuu.l ultlt
Th. , thing Iv , 1.11.1,1,11 II iclll I'I.• 11 , Tla• NVILS
A lid lhrn wo ‘Vt)ttli•ll
Nltich Jull4 1)111.110 whlc•lt Is Ilan! 11/ honr,
l'ltlo•ligivell.sway which it w,•ro•s,, - ..,•1.5 , . Icei•ip
litid hell, us all! WI.; 111,1,e1l his care:
.Intlyet I 1,1.111' Illt•tillepherd 111,1-111 , •ep
Jtv lit Ile. 1,1/y begins is, kWh', nosv,
I
11;...1 my kw, etirllest Infaul prlty, ;
lit. ms his ()LI lit•Cs t•yt.s, I llttmv,
And they say, lou, his mother's sunny hair
Rut. when he sleeps and nmlies upon illy I:nts
till I 1,11 re,•l his I.!
I tottii—lititivi, kelp mitt pity titi•i.
me, mid iviittiti: I loved, littiv, tigt,
Wl.lO Might ha,' \l'liltt I thlri•
think.
lVu ill all chauged. 1;totl Judge, for our bent,
Gotl I•lp us do our duty awl not sin - Ink,
tr..t In Heaven for rest.
}Ult billllll` US W 41111,1 111, If snnm 111,11,11'
. I ' olll , lll $111115 , 11114 . T.. gay “Il4i light;
grlt•ls glmw thh.ll,soutr . Wm, art. hard to
hoar;
Who IttloNvs 111 h ? mill %vim eau J tohth us
right
All, J13,11,...d by srlial w‘• in gut I
10,11,
Ana 111 wro—loo ni.l to hill!
My WI ho sII,IIS and
TIII,II . 1111111V,Il1N and 1110. lii Ile:, Wi•Silali
Know all.
alisralancous.
My PrlTatc School
" I at that !" cried mygrvuluulllt
er, striking; an altitude worthy 1111.aily
Macbeth when she addres , aal the fut.•tl
stiot lin hw• hand ; this tittle, limsaiver,
only the suissiirs, which, in fall
ing, stood upright in the fluor.
" Dili it
that et , lllo
day %vas mil.'
I IleVer 110( h•ed ; was al
ways (soiling, for the matter of that'.'"
" I tell you that sight don't never fail"
grandmother always used double
negatives when she 1111e:till 11l he VIII
-1111111h'; "mist tallerti Will hilt that's
true us :t bc/k. And another thing,
I here NV:LS 11. stringer ill Ills tell
to-night, a long one-- that shoLvs 'tis
IL mail that's ((multi'. Some folks set a
great (teal by that sign ; Mit it ain't to
be mentioned the Sallie day With the
up in the floor."
" I hope he will 14.111 e ?0011, fill' the
:401111 Will, he here llef4,l'l. him ;" and
Frith these words the wind went wail
ing !maim! the house, and the first hig
111'01/S heat against the window 1111110.
score years and tun had not
taken the lirst bloom frSmi the I'l.lllloWe
or toy gritinlinother's ellaraider ; it NV:IS
freSII ailll green :IS in her girlhood.—
Iteggars heard of her al:troll', and ran to
I ill on the neel: of her charity.
She followed the advice of Lambwith
nut ever having read it. When :t poor
creature clone before bershe staid hot to
inquire whether the " seven sitmll chil
dren," in whii:e noon he implored her
assistance, had a veritable existence,
but cast her bread upon the W:LiVrS, Mid
lived in faith.
In fact., she hail east so much bread
upon the waters in the course of her
long life, and so small a proportion hail
come back to her, that she had nothing
left for herself except the old farm and
the gambrel roofed house.
\Vithin its walls my father had first
seen the light, and lived till he went
out to light the world. lie fell early in
the strife, and my mothersoon followed
him ; hilt. not. until she had marked out
my way in life, and so fixed me in the
groove of her ideas I lust I hail no ehoice
left. I went to a village academy till I
WWI Ohl enough to enter the " Normal
School," for my destiny was to be a
teacher. My little income had to be
eked out in some way; and of all work
to which a woman may turn her hand,
a school, perhai :4, divides the burden
most equally between body and mind.
\Viten I graduated, my grandmother
'left the old gambrel roof to see me do it,
.and carried me home with her for a
"breathing spell" las she said) before
getting a place to teach.
As to my future, I was neither Imploy
nor unhappy, but rather between. At
twenty life runs on with very little fric
tion ; there is excitement enough in
mere youth to make living a pleasure.
The evening drew on with ever-in
creasing gusts of wind, and the old house
shook to its foundations, but it clung
gallantly to the great central chimneys,
which, being nearly as broad as it was
high, could afford to be indifferent, when
wind and weather came to blows and
made a night of it.
" 1 hope you don't mean to sit up for
that somebody who is eoming. All
signs fail in wet weather."
The words were scarcely spoken
when tee hearth the tread of horse run
ning at full gallop down the steep hill
above the house, then the crash of the
fence, and all was still.
we hell our breath and listened.
Soon :L OHIO ' S Step sounded siOW :11111
heavy 011 the wall:,:unlniygrnndundh
rusheel
to 01.011 the
" Dont be seart," said the familiar
voice of one of our neiglibels, and lie
stumbled in, carrying a Mall, pale unit
lirelliSS, in Ilk nuts.
" lilly Into right on the lounge—get
the camphor bottle—here's somebody
sure enough—don't tell me again that
signs ever fail. \Vito is it, Joe."
" 1 :Immo his m o ue; city fellow, I
reckon; said he'd pay me most any
price to get him to pr ay
to-night.—
The mare did well enough until we got
to that 'ere hill, then a flash seared her,
and she never stopped till she brought
up agin your fence. If he hadn't been
a fool and jumped init., he might 'a been
it spry its 1 am ; but some folks don't
know nothin'."
"'Pleat's so that the rest can get a
livin' outof'em," said my grandmother.
Meantime she was vigorously chafing
'Tr's hands and feet, while I dashed the
camphor in his face, and bathed the
broad white forehead, which certainly
promised well Mr the brain behind it.
"He must be dead," said I ; "he
don't come to :it all."
"No he ain't. Folks can't be killed
so easy. I le'll give you trouble enough
before you're done with him. Now I'll
go :titer the doctor ; tuna noways like
ly he'll know any more what's the mat
ter than we du: but he'll pretend to,
and if the man dies it's his fault and
not ourn."
The doctor found no bones broken,
but the head was injured, and he must
be put to bed and kept tts quiet as pos
sible. Now was my grandmother in
her element.
"You couldn't work any harder," said
I, "if he were your own son.
"3le is somebody's own son; we
mustn't, never forget that, you know."
Our patient fell from his fainting fit
into a fever; and from morning till
night, till morning again, he tossed and
turned with one continuous cry to drive
faster, for he must be in Meriden that
night. My grandmother was nurse-in
chief, but she often made me her deputy
when the labor began to wear upon her."
The doctor had found some cards in
the note-book of our patient, with the
name of "John Jacob Deane" engraved
on them ; but we had no other clew to
his identity. It is impossible to watch
over a patient, day and night, striving
to be both brain and hands to him
without growing into a very strong
feeling towards him of attachment
or dislike. It was so with me, though
I scarcely dared whisper to myself
to which order of feeling my own
should belong. I thought of him all the
time, and if he had died it would have
•
. z
: .
?
7111111 t
;
rJ N
. .
. Otte
VOLUME 71
been a blow to me, albeit I had never
heard him speak a conscious word.
It was the tenth day of the fever, and
he had been motionless for along time ;
a sudden movement made me look up.
His eyes were fastened on me with a
new expression, I knew that he saw ins
for the first time.
I was about to call my grandmother. I
gave him hiscordial which was kept for
this crisis, and he received it at once.
"Tell me all about it," he said. "
was bound for Meriden, what then ?"
" You jumped from the wagon when
the horse was running near our house,
and were brought in insensible."
"Last night, I suppi se; I 'oust go ou
to Meriden to-day."
" We suppose it was ten days ago, and
you could go to the moon as easily as to
Meriden. The doctor says you must be
very quiet."
" Jupiter Tonal's! ten days! Whose
house is this?"
" It belongs to my grandmother, Mrs.
Temperance Mule. I will call her to see
you.
"Thank you; I can wait. Perhaps
the sight of another stranger might
fatigue me too much."
I{ut I thought he alight safely be left
alone for a while.
"lle will talk all the time," I said to
my grandmother when ahe went up
Htairs.
"I don't see but he's quiet enough,"
she said, coming down again in a few
minutes. Ile wants you to write a let
ter him."
I wrote one this wise from his theta
jot::
" DEA a> l. RY cameto grief within
five miles of Meriden, as they tell me
I have been light-headed for a matter of
ten days. The business that I came On
will have to be done all over again.—
Nevertheless, I will not 'abandon hope'
till I enter at the door which, according
lo Dante, bears that inscription.
Ever yours, J. J. DEANE."
" You must not speak another word,''
I said imperatively.
" I promise, if you will sing again
what you were singing when I found
myself in the body this afternoon."
So I sang " Allen Percy," and "Auld
Robin Gray," and two or three other
uld ballads of which I had a store, and
my patient soon fell into a healthy sleep.
The next day he found his appetite, and
from that time came back to health with
wonderful rapidity. Ile was docile as
:1 lamb to my grandmother, but with
me he became the most exacting and
troublesome convalescent that ever tried
0 woman's patience. lie openly prefer
red my grandmother's dainty dishes,
and if I left him for an hour his bell
would ring, and I went hank to limb his
pillows on the floor, and his head so hot
that nothing lanstroking it with cologne
and singing all the while would cool it.
To keep him still I read aloud for hours,
thinking far more of him than of my
book.
\Vt. grew very well acquainted in
these long summer days, till 1 went to
:\leriden on :I shopping expedition. I
l'ound a thick letter at the postoilice for
Deane, which had been lying there
nearly three weeks. It was directed in
:1 lady's hand, and I thought the sight
Tit brought a shadow to his face.
I le looked so glad to see 100 after illy
pro hour's absence that I went up stairs
n cluite IL 'hitter of spirits. Could it ho
iossilde that I was to taste at last the
joy of which I luul heard and read with
unsatisfied longing? lint 1 would not
stop to think about it.
" Here's a letter for you that Job
brought in while you were gone," said
my grandmother.
I took it and glanced at Mr. Deane.-
11esat by the open window reading one
sheet of his letter with knit brows,
while the other lay beside him. Sud
denly Night breeze whirled it out into
the llowo , -plat, and I ran out to get it.
I had not occurred to me to he curious
Wont the letter, and nothing, was tar
her front 111,y thoughts than to read
.ven the date of it ; Lot the writing was
arg,e and plain, :Id, Its I stooped to
iiek it up, the lirst four words were
burned into my mind like letters of tire.
"My own dear husband." Surely it
should have been nothing to tee that
Mr. >vane's NVIIC had written to him;
but, woe is Inv! the fart of his having a
wife at all was like a death-blow to me
--like the instant beforedrowning when
one sees at a gluier the whole map of
one's life.
I gave him the letter without looking
at him, and went up to my room.
Doubtless this was the " Dear Mary"
to whom 1 had written that first letter
from his dictation, and 1 had foolishly
taken it for granted that she was his
sister. He had never spoken of her; but
married people are always mysterious,
and her price might be far above rubies
nevertheless. lie had done nothing to
make bier jealous. Once he lout taken
my hand and touched it with his ;
and all the rest of the foundations of my
castle in the air lay in looks more or less
expressed.
But the love, it appears, was all on my
side. He was idle and grateful, that
I would go away at once, no matter
where. Mr. Demie was so tar recovered
that my grandmother could easily attend
to all his wants, and he could soon re
turn to his own place. It would he
something to re [nein ber, if mall ing more.
Then I read my own letter, :not in it
was my way of escape. •
Aunt Rachel wrote to say that "she
was at death's door with neuralgia, and
would I come to help her with the
children ?" the saw that door so often
in her own account of her sulrerings that
familiarity with it had rather hardened
my heartioward Aunt _Rachel, but now
was ready to lay all the stress on her
letter which it would bear.
" What will Mr. Deane say to your
going away?" said my grandmother,
when I had impressed on her mind my
duty to Aunt Rachel.
" f don't care what he says."
" Lot*:" said my grandmother, with
a look which implied a two hours'
speech at least.
"'That letter was from his wile," I
said looking anywhere but :it her.
She never answered a word, but just
kissed me on both eyes, and stroked my
Bair tenderly for :1 minute or two.
Then we parted for the night, and I
went away in the morning before Mr.
Deane was up.
Aunt Rachel was out of sight of
"death's door" long before I reached
her, as I inal confidently supposed she
would be ; but she welcomed me hearti
ly and the kisses of the children tooth
ed somewhat the sure spot in my hearth.
For the next three days the activity of
the "busy bee," long ago impaled on a
poetical pin,was not to,be compared with
mine. If there were any gifts of healing
in mere work. 1 was determined to have
them out of it; but the image of Mr.
Deane \VILA ever in my mind's eye, and,
RA people say who have not been to the
"Normal," I got no better fast.
Last ofall I went huckleberrying with
the children, and picked as formy
There's IL Strange man coming acros
the field," said one of them.
I looked up after a minute, and tool
I. Deane's ollered hand.
" If you teach school fl you pick ber
ries your fortune will be soon made," he
said, with the glad look in his eyes
which seemed to banish that dreadful
wife of his to the uttermost parts of the
earth.
" I low did you find me'."'
"By my wits, chiefly. Your grand
mother was as mysterious over your de
parture as if you had gone ha° a con
vent; but when I told her 1 had good
news for you ; she relented and gave me
the clue to your hiding place."
" And Aunt Rachel directed you
here
" Precisely."
" What is your good news ?"
" I have heard of a school that you cal
have for the asking."
" I am exceedingly obliged to you.'
"It is a private school, and very
small ; but it has the reputation of being
difficult to manage ; and from all that I
know of you, I have concluded thatyou
will be the right person. Will you un
dertake it?"
" Yes, if you are sure of my fitness."
" I havn't a doubt of it. I said the
school is small—it has, in fact, one
scholar, aged thirty-two, and his name
is John Jacob Deane."
If I said anything or committed my
self in any way for some minutes after
this astounding speech, I have entirely
forgotten it.
"And that letter,"
saying after a while.
" Was from my sister to her husband
who had deserted her. It was to look
after him and bring him to reason that
I was riding poste-haste to Meriden that
wild night. She inclosed it in a letter
to me. "I forgot to mention," he said
after a pause, which was not so without
eloquence of its-own, "that my school
'—l found mystd
begins about the first of September."
" Now if lam to teach it," said 1. "I
shall spend that month and others after
it in turning all my fortune into the
pretty thing that I have always longed
for."
When Miss Rebecca Verjuice, my
former room mate at the "Normal: l '
heard the story of my engagement, she
wrote me a letter of congratulation, iu
which she intimated darkly that mine
would be ono of the many matches
founded on gratitude.
" John Jacob," said I, solemnly, when
I saw him again, "if you arc about to
marry me out of gratitude, tell me at
once, that I may flee to my Aunt Rachel
while there is yet time.
"My dear little schoolmistress," lie
replied, "if I had been moved only by
gratitude I should have proposed to your
grandinother."
PAUL SCIIIEPPE
The Cinelnl Record of his Crime In
Germany.
Authentic transcripts of the judicial
documents relating to the crimes cum
ndtted in Germany by Paul Selneppe,
note lying in the Carlisle jail under
sentence of death for the murder of
Miss ,[aria Stinneeke, have been re
ceived in Baltimore. The canoe record
also shows the crimesof his father, who
officiated in the capacity of l'astor in
Carlisle. From the full statement con
tained in the Baltimore Still, we make
up the following summary :
Paul Schompe, a student of theology,
son of the preacher Selimppe, of Baud
ach,•near Crosser, frequented the gym
nasium (college) of ZUliiChall until Bus
ter, ISGO. In April, 1860, he entered as
a soldier the Pioneer Battalion of the
Royal Guard at Berlin, and was in Sep
tember of the same year promoted to
the position of port-epee (sword bear
ing) ensign. After having been put
under arrest two weeks fur contracting
debts without permission, and on sus
picion of defaulting, and after the com
munication had been made to him that
lie could not calculate upon being ever
promoted to air officer's position, he
was, upon his own request, in June,
1861, dismissed as a reserve. A few
weeks thereafter he applied to Count
Blankensce, at Berlin, fur aid. lfe gave
as a motive fur his request, that Ids
Gather, with a limited income, and with
a younger non at the gymnasium (col
legeo wren riot in the condition to grant
him the means for a course of studies,
and that he had, ever since leaving the
gymnasium, at Baster, felt air anxious
desire to study theology.
Confiding in the assertions made in
the letter, and without looking into the
writer's past life, the C'ount engaged the
student, Selneppe, as ainanuensi, , , and
Mr other services, with a salary of ten
tinders a month. From November 1,
1861, up to the time of his arrest, on
March ad, 18U2,Schwppe worked almost
daily, as a rule during some hours in
the morning, sometitnes also in the af
ternoon, at the Count's Berlin dwelling,
"tarter den Linden," (under the Lin
den) No. 7U. He was treated by both
the Count and Countess with a benevo
lence and kindness. Schteppe used the
relation to the Count and the opportu
nity offered thereby Mr the commit
ment of several criminal acts.
First. (hi the 19th of December, tSttl,
in the evening between G and 7 o'clock,
there appeared in the counting room of
the I terlin bankers, Jacquier & Securins,
who manage the money matters of
Count Itlankensee a young man, appa
rently twenty and some years old, of a
tall and lank stature and appearance.—
lie presented an order reading literally:
"On my order, I request the hankers,
.lacquier & Securins, to pay to Dr. Phil.
Mutiu,:, Five Hundred Tiders. (1.
Itlankensee, Iterlin, December Inth,
Both the banker, Securins, and the
cashier, Duchstein, said to the man that
they had no advice of the order, and
that they could not pay it if not request
ed to do so by the Count, either in wri
ting or by his porter, who was known
to than. Young Schoppe managed by
a trick to get the porter to deliver antes
sage which satisfied the scruples of the
bankers, and the order was paid, he re
eeipting for it on the back of the order,
as follows: "Five Hundred Tinders .1
I have this day received. :quails IMc
tor. The forgery was detected but
Sehoppe escaped punishment because
the bank officers could not swear dis
tinctly to his identity.
From the seized correspondence of
Selneppe with his parents, it becomes
evident that the latter were already in
January, 1552, acquainted with the fact
that their son_ s suspected of forgery.
They warned mtobe on his guard so
as not to iner e the suspicion, since it
was sure that I would be watched as to
his expenses and otherwise. The moth
er seems also to have been aware of the
fact that he was in possession of ample
means, for she often charged him with
little commissions, became thereby in
debted to hint, and even asked hint once
for a loan of fifty atlers.
Count Blakensee keeps his money
and valuable papers mostly in an iron
safe in his (Berlin) dwelling, No. Go
"Linder the Linden." On the 2lst of
February, Isa 2, the Count, upon open
ing his safe, discovered the ninety ant
lers in paper had been taken from it.
Ott the 29th, making a further exami
nation, lie found that the following
valuable papers had been stolen : 3,00i10
tinders in .2.5 stock certificates of the
Aachen Dusseldorf Railroad Company,
at 200 dialers each; 2,000 thalera in 210
bonds of the Bergen Mark Railroad, at
lOU antlers each; 55,050 florins in 50
bonds of the Imperial Austrian National
Loan; 28,500 tinders in 285 bonds of the
Thuringian Railroad Company.
On the 3d of Afarch the police arrested
Pastor Schoppe for selling three of the
stolen Thuringian bonds to the banker
Nathorfr at Frankfort-on-the-Oder, and
also arrested his son, the student Selnep
pe. Both denied their guilt. Pastor
Scho‘ppe denied that he was the person
who sold the bonds at Frankfort, and
his son denied having committed the
theft. Even after the recovery of the
111011ey he had received for the bonds
and left at Frankfort, which was on the
Bth of March, Pastor efchoppe persisted
in his original statements, although the
judge put positive questions, based upon
telegrams received. Only after some
hours he declared himself ready to tell
the truth, and confessed that he had sold
the bond.; to Nathorfr, that he had re
ceived from his son the tapers stolen
from Count Blankensee and had hidden
them at It is house. When the student
Selneppe was made acquainted with the
declarations of his father, be admitted
that he was complicated in the theft.,
but would not say anything further un
tit after having spoken to the Count.—
On the following day he was told such
a conversation could not be allowed.
The student Schoppe then made a
narrative, whose falsehood was after
wards completely demonstrated and ad
mitted by himself. He said that the
Countess Illankensee had shown him a
particular favor; that he had often seen
her in her own rooms, where she had
permitted him to kiss her hands and
lips. When in January the Count had
refused to make a loan to his father, the
Countess, he asserts, told him that she
had made every etlbrt to persuade the
Count to grant the loan, and promised
him assistance. On the 10th of Febru
ary she had invited him to come be
tween 10 and 11 o'clock ill the evening.
When he obeyed this invitation the
Countess took him to the money safe,
gave him the keys, and the safe being
opened, requested him to take the papers
and the contents of the portfolia. With
out informing himself respecting the
papers, he had sent them to his father
at Baudach, because lie thought them
safer there from thieves than at his
rooms. Only the ninety thalers he as
serts to have retained and used. The
belief that the money was the private
property of the Countess lie still main
tained when he learned of the theft
committed upon Count Mankensee, be
cause he had not presumed that those
papers were concerned in it. After
wards the Countess had really told him
that she had only intended to give him
the 28,500 thalers in Thuringian bonds,
but he had been prevented from return
ing the balance by his arrest.
When the stolen papers were after
wards found, upon searching the house
of pastor Schteppe, in an iron stove pipe,
only three bonds of the Austrian Nation
al Loan of I,ooollorins each were missing.
The student Schwppe asserted at first
that he had sent all the papers to his
father, but on the following day (March
15) Ile stated that he had hidden the
three missing bonds under a book-case
in a passage of the royal palace while on
a visit toselatives there.
Schceppe was then taken to the palace,
and while there he escaped from the
court officers conducting him by a door
leading to a narrow winding stairs. The
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING AUGUST 17. 1870
three bonds were found on the same day
by the bookkeeper, Julius Bartdorf, a
relative of Schmppe, behind a book case
in the dwelling of his father, in the royal
palace, and delivered to the court. On
the 30th of March Schceppe was retaken
at Nauzelle. When confronted with
the Countess, who indignantly denied
his assertions, Sehmppe remained firm
as to his former statements.
These very assertions of the student
Schreppe had caused the deposition to
be taken of the Countess's chambermaid,
who had, by mere chance, seen that
Sehooppe had had a key made in a
locksmith's shop, which led to the dis
covery that Seliceppe had, before the
theft, obtained a key unlocking the
drawer of the count's writing table.—
When this had been found at his rooms,
Heliwppe confessed that so far he had
lied, and that he had perpetrated the
theft alone, but denied the use of the
false key. Schreppe said that, while in
the library on the Ibth of February, the
thought struck him to commit the theft,
although he had not his false key
which he had made, with him. He took
the safe key from the box and opened
the safe, took out the ninety tinders and
the valuable papers, folded the latter in
the shape of official papers and left the
house. As he had left the house with
out being seen, he gave up the precon
ceived idea of lieeing to England, and
sent the papers to his father, except the
three Austrian bonds, which he hid.—
The false key made by Paohe he throw
away to prevent suspicion.
The pastor Sclueppe, having denied
everything at first, but exposed by the
finding of the money which Nathorlf
had paid him for the bonds, confessed
to have sold them. Ire made the follow
ing special declarations : That his son,
when sending the box with papers of
value, had written to him that lie had
won the same in the Hamburg lottery;
that the father should keep them for
him, but might use for his own pur
poses as many of the Thuringian bonds
as lie was in need of; that he took out
thalers of Thuringian bonds, and
without looking at the balance of the
papers placed them back again in the
box with the dirty clothes, and put the
box in the garret of the louse; that he
did not know anything of theft at the
Count's ; that he had thought If the pa
pe'rs were stolen they would be seized at
Frankfort, if offered for sale, &c., &e.
[The indictment here states that the
assertion of Paul Seincppe denying the
use of the false key ire untrue, and
stales the ITEISOIIS, which, besides their
utter improbability, prove their untruth.
It also proves from facts and circum
stances that the declarations of pastor
Scluoppe that he did not know any
thing of the theft at the Count's, but
believed that his son had won the
property sent him in a lottery, &e'.,
were improbable and untrue. It ahio
shows that Paul Sclueppe changed the
numbers of the Thuringian bonds in the
account books of Count thankensee,
with the intention ,d throwing obstacles
in the way of discovery, and of mystify
ing matters.]
The student Sell, eppe Juts, besides th is,
rendered himself guilty of extortion.
During his tight he addressed a letter to
Count Itlankensee, dated at Lauban,
May 2.stli, 1562, mailed at Neu Zelle on
the 30tli of March. In it he represented
the needy condition to which Ids mother
had been reduced by his father's arrest,
and requested the Count to make her a
loan rut 2,000 dialers, which his father
would surely return upon his expected
acquittal. lie reminds the Count that
by his t:•! , clueppe's) confes:dnn he the
Count) was freed from the payment of
the reward offered fur the discovery of
the thieves ; and then threatens the
Count, should he refuse to grant Ids re
quest, ihat he will drive him (the Count)
to despair. Ile swears not to leave any ,
means untried to bring his name to pub
lie. shame, &c. The same papers which
had surrendered his name to public
shame would be much more eager to
publish the shame of the Count. He
knew ways and means to elect this. So
far only the Criminal Court knew of
Iris confessions, but
_lt required only a
few lines from him to some public paper
and the whole world would know it. If
the Count granted his request, not a
word :Wont his position to the Count
and his house should pass his lips. The
letter also contains threats of denounc
ing the Count for usury.
Schoppe confesses that he wrote the
above letter to the Count to induce him
to loan Iris mother the money asked for,
and admits, e'spe'cially, that the threat
ened publications had reference to the
false assertions which he made respect
ing the Countess, and her participation
in the theft.
Paul Schiepre and Ids father were
tried and convicted, And the sentence of
the court was delivered in the following
terms:
1. That the avert.,s John Frederick
Theophilus Paul Sell p.epp, should be ac
quitted of the accusation of qualified
theft, but that he is guilty of forgery,
unqualified theft and extortion, and
should therefore be punished with live
years' imprisonment in th e pen itentiary,
and a line of live hundred [haters; and
in case of non-payment, a further no
prisonment of six months, as well ashy
being placed under the special surveil
lance of the police for five years.
Second. That the accused former pas
tor, John Lewis Frederick Scineppe,
should be acquitted from the accusation
of repeated default, but that the same
is guilty of concealing stolen goods, and
that he should be punished with nine
months' imprisonment, and prohibition
(interdiction) front the exercise of citi
zens' rights for one year.
Third. That the costs of proceedings,
as far as the qualified theft and repeated
default are concerned, should he remit
ted, but that the balance should be
charged against the two accused.
Efforts were made to secure the par
don of the criminals, hut in vain, :nut
they served out the respective terms in
the penitentiary.
The elder Schteppe, liner serving out
his sentence in the penitentiary, came
to this country and settled at Car
lisle, Pa., as pastor of the Lutheran
Church in that place. His son, Paul
Schoppe, after serving out his five find
a half years sentence in the penitentiary,
was permitted to escape the five years'
surveillance of the police, being a part
of his sentence,, to depart for America.
lie also settled at Carlisle in I.stis, and
falsely assumed the profession of a phy
sician. On the '2:,th of January, Isto,
Miss Maria Still :lecke, his female pa
tient, aged seventy years, suddenly died
under his medical treatment. Schoppe
was tried in the court at Carlisle, and till
the ;;ntli of May, convicted or tile
murder of Miss Stinnecke by poison,
and sentenced to be executed - on a day
fixed by the Governor.
In the meantime the case was taken
up to the Supreme Court or Pennsylva
nia, 111)(1 after many delays, the final
judgment of the court was rendered ill
.1 one last, affirming, the judgmentof the
court at Carlisle. 1 n tile meantime, the
day fixed by the Governor for his exe
cution had passed, and Schieppe is now
in jail, subject to execution whenever
the Governor of Pennsylvania shall (lx
the day. No attempt has been made to
prove the forged will of Miss Stinneeke,
pta alleged,) tiled by Selneppe in tile
Orphans' Court of Baltimore, devising
him all her property. A genuine will,
executed by Miss Maria Stinnecke, of a
previous date, was admitted to probate
in the Orphans' Court of Baltimore a
few hours before the tiling of the paper
purporting to be a later will, executed
by Miss Maria Stinnecke, in Selneppe's
possession. Pastor Sclueppe, after the
conviction of his son, removed front
Carlisle, it is said to Montreal, Canada.
Care or horses Legs
Few men who handle horses give
proper attention to the feet and legs.—
Especially is this the case on the farms.
Much time is spent of a morning rub
'brushing and smoothing the hair
on the sides and hips, but at no time
are the feet examined and properly
cared for. Now, be it known, that in
this six thousand year old world of ours
the feet of a horse need more care than
the body. They need ten times as much
—for in one respect they are almost the
entire horse. All the grooming that
can be done won't (avail anything, if
the horse is forced to stand where
his feet will be filthy. In this ease
the feet will become disordered, and
then the legs will get badly out of
and with bad feet and bad legs there is
not much else of the horse lit fur any
thing. Stable prisons generally, are
terribly severe on the feet and legs of
bows, and unless these buildings can
afford a dry room, where a horse can
walk around, lie down or roll over, they
are not half so healthy and comfortable
to the horse as the pasture, and should
be avoided by all good hostlers in the
country.—Rural World. 2
The Will or Charles Dickens
• The following is a copy in full of the
Will of Charles Dickens, which has just
been made public:
" I, Charles Dickens, of Gadshill
place, Higham, in the County of Kent,
hereby revoke all my former wills and
codicils, and declare this to be my last
Will and Testament. I give the sum of
.Cl,OOO, free of legacy duty, to Miss El
len Lawless Tertian, late of Houghton
place, Ampthill-square, in the Comity
of Middlesex. I give the sum of 11l
guineas to my faithful old servant, Mrs.
Anne Cornelius. I give the sum of 10
guineas to the daughter and only child
of the:said Mrs. Anne Cornelius. I give
the sum of 10 guineas to each and every
domestic servant, male and female, who
shall be in my employment at the time
of my decease, and shall have .been in
my employment for a not less period
of time than One year. I give the sum
of £1,01.10, free of legacy duty, to my
daughter, Mary Dickens. I also give to
my said daughter, Mary, an annuity of
1300 a year during her life, if she shall
so long continue unmarried, such an
nuity to be considered as accruing front
day to day, but to be payable half year
ly, the first ,if such half-yearly pay
ments to be made at the expiration of
six months next after my decease. If
my said daughter Mary shall marry,
such annuity shall cease, and in that
ease, but in that ease only, my said
daughter shall share with my other
children in the provision hereinafter
made for them. I give to my dear sister
in-law, Georgina Hogarth, the sum - of
10,000, free of legacy d u ty. I also give
to the said Georgina Hogarth all my
personal jewelry not hereinafter men
tioned, and all the little familiar objects
from my writing table and my room,
and she will know what to do with
those things. I also give to the said
Georgina I logarth all my private
papers, WhatsoeTer and .whereso
ever, and I leave her my grateful
blessing, as the best and truest
friend man ever had. I give to my
eldest son Charles my library of printed
books and my engraving and prints. I
also give to my said son Charles the
silver salver presented to me at Bir
mingham, and the silver cup presented
to me at Edinburgh, and my shirt studs,
shirt pins,'„,and sleeve-buttons; and
bequeath unto my said son Charles
and my son Ifenry Fielding Dickens
the sum of 10,uun upon trust to invest
the same, and from time to time to vary
the investments thereof, and to pay the
annual income thereof to my wife dur
ing her life, and after her decease the
said sum of ,cO,OllO and the investmenh4
thereof shall be in trust for my children
;but subject as to any daughter ;Mary to
the proviso hereinbefore contained I,
who, being . a son or suns, shall
have attained or shall attain the age of
dl years, or being a daughter or daugh
ters, shall have attained or shall attain
that age, or be previously married, in
equal shares if more than one. I give
my watch I the gold repeater presented
to me at('oventryl, and I give the chains
and seals, and all appendages I have
worn with it, to my dear mind trusty
friend John Forster of Palaee-gatehousc,
Kensington, in the County of :\ iddie
sex aforesaid. And I also give to the
said John Forster such manuscripts of
my published works as may be in my
possession at the time of my decease.—
And I devise and bequeath all my real
and personal estate ;except such as is
vested in me as a trustee or mortgage)
unto the said Georgina Hogarth and the
said John Forster, their heirs, execu
tors, administrators and assigns respec
tively, upon trust, that they, the said
Georgina Hogartlt and John Forster, or
the survivor of them, or the executors or
administrators of such survivor, do and
shall at their, his or her, uncontrolled
and irresponsible direction, either pro
ceed to an immediate sale or eellVer-
Stoll tutu money of the said real and
personal estate including my copy
rightst, or defer and postpone any sale
or conversion into money till such time
or times as they, he, or she, shall think
tit, and in the meantime may manage
and let the said real. and personal estate
including my copyrights: in such man
ner in all respects as I myself could do
if I were living and acting therein, it
being may hitellthel (lea the trustees Or
trustee tor the time being of this my
will shall have the fullest power over
the said real and personal estate
whiell I can give to them,
or her. Amt I declare that until
the said real and personal estate
shall be sold :Ind converted into money,
the rents and annual income thereof re
spectively shall be paid and applied to
the person or persons in the manner
and for the purposes to whom and fur
which the annual income of the moneys
to arise from the sale or conversion
thereof into money would be payable or
applicable under this my will, in case
the same were sold or converted into
money ; and I declare that my real es
tate shall, for the purpose if this my will
be considered as converted into person
alty upon my decease; and I declare
that the said trustees or trustee for the
time being do and stimuli, with and out
oldie moneys which shall come to their,
his, ur her hands under or by virtue of
lids my will :mil the trusts thereof, pay
my jest debts, funeral and testamentary
expenses, and legacies. And I declare
that the said trust funds, or so much
thereof as shall remain after answering
the purposes aforesaid, and the annual
income thereof, shall be in trust fur all
my children ;but subject., as to my.
daughter Mary, to the proviso hereinbe
fore contained:, Who, being a son or sons,
shall have attained or shall attain the
age of It years, and being a daughter
or daughters, shall have attained
or shall attain that age, or be previously
married, in equal shares if more titan
one always that, as regards
my copyrights and the produce and
profits thereof, my said daughter Mary,
notwithstanding the proviso herein be
fore contained with reference to her,
shall share with my other children
therein, whether she be married or not;
and I devise the estates vested in me at
my decease as a trustee or mortgage
unto the use of the said Georgina Ho
wlf' and John Forster, their heirs and
assigns, upon the trusts and subject to
the equities affecting the same respect
ively ; and I appoint the said Georgina
Hogarth and John Forster, executrix
and executor of this my will, and guar
dians of the persons of my children dur
ing their respective minorities; and
lastly, es I have now set down the form
of words which may legal advisers assure
me are necessary to the plain objects of
thus my will, 1 solemnly enjoin my dear
children always to remember how much
they our to the said ( leorginal I ogarth,
and never to be wanting in a grateful
and affectionate attachment to her, for
they knew well that she has been
through all the stages of their growth
and progress their ever useful, self deny
ing and devoted friend. And I desire
here simply to record the fact that any
wife, since our separation by consent,
has been in the receipt from me of an
annual income of .Clion ; While all the
great charges of a numerous and expen
sive family have devolved wholly upon
myself. I emphatically direct that Ibe
buried in an inexpensive, unostenta
tious, and strictly private manner, that
no public announcement be made of
the time or place of my burial, that at
the utmost not inure than three plain
mourning-coaches be employed, and
that those who attend my funeral wear
no scarf, cloak, black bow, long hat
band, or other such revolting absurdity.
I direct that my name be inscribed in
plain English letters on my tomb with
out the addition of ' Mr.' or • Esquire.'
I conjure my friends on no account to
make me the subject of any monument,
memorial, or testimonial whatever. I
rest my claims to the remembrance of
my country upon my published works,
and to the remembrance of my friends
upon their experience of me; in addition
thereto I commit my soul to the mercy of
God through our Lord and Savior Jesus
Christ, and I exhort my dear children
humbly to try to guide themselves by
the teaching of the New Testament in
its broad spirit, and to put no faith in
any man's narrow constitution of its
letter here or there. In witness where
of I, the said Charles Dickins, the test
ator, have to this my last will and testa
ment set my hand this twelfth day of
May, in the year of our Lord one thou
sand eight hundred and sixty-nine.
CHARLES DICKENS."
" Signed, published, and declared by
the above-named Charles Dickens, the
testator, as and for his last will and test
ament, in the presence of us (present
together at the same time), who in his
presence, at his request, and in the
presence of each other have hereunto
subscribed our names as witnesses.
" HOLDSWORTH,
No. 26 Wellington-st., Strand.
"HENRY WALKER,
No. 26 Wellington-st., Strand.
" I, :Charles :Dickens, of thulshill
place, near Rochester, in the County of
Kent, Esquire, declare this to be a cod
icil to my last will and testament, which
will bear date the I2th day of May, labs.
I give to my son Charles Dickens, the
younger all my share and interest in
the weekly journal called All the Year
Round, which is now conducted under
articles of partnershimade between me
and William Henry Wills, and the said
Charles Dickens the younger, and all
my share and interest in the stereo
types, stock, and other effects belonging
to the said partnership, he defraying
my share of all debts and liabilities of
the said partnership which may be out
standing at the time of my decease, and
in all other respects I confirm my Said
will. In witness whereof I have here
unto set my hand the 2d day of June, in
the year of our Lord one thousand eight
hundred and seventy.
" CHARIF-S
" Signed and declared by the said
Charles Dickens, the testator, as and for
a codicil to his will, in the presence or
of us (present at the same time) who at
his request, in his presence, and in the
presence of each other, hereunto sub
scribe onr names as witnesses,
"Cl. liom)swonTit,
No. :26 Wellington-st., Strand.
"HENRY WALKER,
No. '2.6 Wellington-st., Strand.
Proved at London, with a codicil, lath
July, 1570, by the oath of Georgina lio
garth, spinster, and John Forster, esq.,
the executors, to whom administration
was granted.
The personal property of Mr. Dickens
is sworn under $50,000. The will is
written in blue ink, and occupies a
Nvltule sheet of ordinary letter paper.
The River Rhine
The following reminiseewes of a tour
made in the Rhine valley, may prove of
interest to our readers at the present
time :
The Rhino rises in Switzerland, flows
through the Lake of Constance, passes
the falls at Schaffhausen, and from cast
to west constitutes for some distance the
boundary between Switzerland and Ger
many, (Baden.) At Basel, Switzerland,
where it Is bridged, it then takes a north
erly course, forming the boundary be
tween France and Germany, (Radon.)
From where the Lauter river, on the
west side, empties into the Rhine at the
southern of Rhenish Bavaria, the Rhine
ceases to wash France. Thence it flows
in a northerly and northwesterly direc
tion all the way through (termany, till it
enters near Nymegen, Holland, the lat
ter Coon try,where it is divided into sever
al branches, and empties into the North
Sea. The principal French city near the
Rhine is Strasbourg, through which city
the river 111 flows, emptying a little
way below into this Rhine, on its west
side. Strasbourg, numbering fifty and
some odd thousand inhabi butts, is
strongly fortified, and connected with
Kehl, on the right (German,) bank of
the Rhino by a bridge. On the German
Baden) side, opposite France, there are
several small cities on the Rhine. Ita
stadt, near which city is the renowned
watering-place, Baden-Baden, and also
Carlsruhe, the capital of Baden, are both
situated several miles off the Rhine.—
Nearly opposite Carlsruhe, where, on
the west side, the Lauter river empties
into the Rhine, is the southern bound
ary line of Riaenish Bavaria, (Palatin
ate) which is altogether west or the
Rhine. The principal cities of Rhenish
Bavaria, Neustadt, Landau, Zweibru
ecken , and Spires, have each from s,OOO to
10,000 inhabitants, while Kaiserlautern
has about 15,000. Besides those citiesthe
Palatinate is covered with a large number
of towns and villages. At Mannheim,
situated on the right bank of the Rhine,
and the elder commericial city of Baden,
numbering twenty and some odd thou
saint inhabitants, the Neckar, one of the
chief tributaries of the Rhine, empties
into it on the east side. On the Neckar,
whose banks are covered with vines,
the following principal cities are situa
ted : Tuebingen, renowned for its uni
versity ; Stuttgard, the capital of Wort
emberg ; Heilbronn, I feidleberg, also
renowned for its university, and Mann
heim—the latter at the confluence of
the Rhine and Neckar. At the latter city
the Rhine is bridged, connecting it with
Ludwishafen ' in Rhenish Bavaria.—
Further on, Worms, a city of about 10,-
Me in habitants, and renowned in history
front Luther's Reformation, is situated
on the left bank of the Rhine. Follow
ing the course of the river the next large
city on it, situated on the left bank is
Mayence. There opposite the city on
the cast side of the Main river, the
largest of the tributaries of the Rhine,
empties into it. At the confluence of both
rivers, Kastel is situated, connected by
a bridge with Mayence. On the banks
of the Main, which is as wide as the
Rhine, and is renowned for ifs beautiful
valley and excellent vineyards, arc the
cities of Wurzburg, Bavaria, and Frank
furt-on-the-Main. At Mayence the
Rhine is wider than at any other point
in its whole course, being about three
miles. Mayence numbers about 50,000
inhabitants, and is one of the strongest
Berman fortresses.
At 31 ayence the world-renowned
beauties of the Rhine commence, and
extend along the course of the river as
far as Bonn. A little way below May
once, on the right hank, Bieberich, with
its beautiful castle, is situated. some
miles distant from Bieberich, and off
the river, a little east, is the celebrated
watering-place, Wiesbaden. From May
once to Bingen the river flows from east
to west, and then it takes again a north
westerly course. At Ruedesheim the
Rhine is again about two miles wide,
while during the rest of its course
through Germany it is not more than a
mile in width. Bingen is situated on
the left bank of the river, where the
Nall° river empties into it on the south
side. Bingen, with its environs, is, for
natural beauties, one of the finests spots
on the Rhine, and perhaps one of the
finest on any river in the world The
natural beauties are increased by the
Kloppburg, a famous ruin. Ehrenfels,
a handsome castle on the bluffs at the
left bank of the river, the Rochus chapel
on a hill, the Breemserhurg, an ancient
tower at Ruedesheim, and the Mice
Tower, ill the river, well known from
the story connected with it.
Below Bingen the hanks consist on
both sides of high bluffs, nearly as far as
StOlzenfick. Below Bacharach there
is a castle like building in the river,
called the Pfalz where Blucher in 1514
crossed the Rhine with his troops in the
campaign against Napoleon 1., which
ended at Waterloo. A short distance
above St. ( ;oar, on the right bank, is the
Lorel ey rock, made famous by a poem
of Heinrich Heine. Below Borman'
and near Coblentz there is the finest
castle on the Rhine, on its I eft bank—
the titrolzensels. A: few miles above Co-
Wentz, on the east side, the Lab n river
empties Into the Rhine. tin the
Latin, only a short distance from its
mouth, is the now historMal watering
ing place of Ems, located in a narrow
valley, between high bluffs. The city
of Coblentz (German, "Coblentz,")
numbering about 213,000 inhabitants, is
situated on the left bank of the Rhine,
where the Moselle river one of its
principal tributaries, empties into it.—
The Moselle receives in its upper
course the Saar river. The Moselle
conies from France, and on it the
French fortresses, Metz and Thion
ville are situated. The chief German
city located on this river is 'Freres.
Both the Rhine and Mozelle are
bridged at Coblentz. This city is a
strong fortress,
and opposite the city, on
the right bank of the Rhine, on a rocky
bluff, is the German Gibraltar—the
Fortress Ehrenbreitstein. Coblentz
ranks equal with Bingen in the magni
licence of its beautiful scenery. From
the ramparts of the Fortress Ehren
breitstein a view is presented to the
eye which is rarely equaled anywhere
on the Rhine. From gtolzenfels the
valley widens again. Below Coblentz
prominent places on the Rhine are
Neuwied, Andernach and Sinzig,
near which latter city the Ahr river,
particularly renowned for the wine
growing in its valley, empties into the
Rhine on its left side. Further below,
on the right bank of the Rhine, is Koe
nigswinter. Near this place, on the
right side of the river, is the Siebenge
birge, a mountain range with seven dis
tinct peaks, of which the Drachenfels
(dragon rock) and Oleberg (olive moun
tain) are the highest. In the neighbor
,' hood there is an island called Nonnen
-1 worth in the river, and opposite to it on
the left bank is the ruin Rolandseck.
A few miles below Koenigswinter is
the city of Bonn, situated on the left
bank of the Rhine. This city numbers
eighteen thousand inhabitants. The
city was the birth-place of Beethoven,
and has a bronze monument of the great
composer. Opposite Bonn theSieg river
empties on the east side into the Rhine.
The next large city below on the Rhine
on its left bank, is Cologne, (German;
Kuehl." This is one of the oldest and
historically most renowned cities of Ger
many, numbering about lotl,lloo inhab
itants. The Rhine is bridged there, con
necting Cologne with Deutz. The river
is deepest and has its most rapid cur
rent there. The banks are level now,
and remain so to the:mouth of the river.
Another large German city on the banks
of the Rhine, below Cologne, is Dussel
dorf, numbering about thirty thousand
inhabitants. Above this city the Erit
river empties on the west side, and be
low, at Ruhrort the Ruhr river, and at
Wesel, the Lippe river both on the east
side, into the Rhine. The Rh ineland
ers, meaning the Germans living in
those parts of Germany near and On
the Rhine are of course, by common lan
guage land literature, linked with and
k mired to the rest of the German peo
ple.
The Mother of Napoleon 11l
! On a mild October evening - , not soon
to be forgotten, a brilliant company of
ladies anti gentlemen gathered in a rail
; way car far out on the Western Plains.
Among them were representatives from
I nearly every State in the Union, scions
of French and English aristocracy,
I wanderers front the utmost parts of the
I earth ; men who had distinguished
I themselves in the field, the cabinet and
the forum ; capitalists who controlled
millions; authors who had gained a
I world-wide harm ; scholars whose pro
: found learning hail adorned the nation
which gave them birth—a delegation in
short, which might fairly be consider
' ed as an illustration of the culture, the
energy, the progressive genius of the
nineteenth century. The occasion
had brought them together was worthy
of their presence. They had that day
participated in the ceremonial which
marked the completion of a grand na
tional enterprise to a point where its
future sin cress was reduced to a mere
question of time; they had seen the
locomotive cross the one-hundredth
meridian, Ilnd heard its shrill stream of
triumph break the primeval solitude and
silence of that vast waste which stretch
es between the Missouri and the Rocky
Nfountains ; they had penetrated to the
heart or the continent, assisted at the
betrothal of the Atlantic and Pacific,
and joined in anticipating the glorious
results which must follow the consum
mated nuptials. And now, the excite
ment over, they were whiling away the
twilight hours in social intercourse, but
the event they had j ust witnessed seem
ed to overshadow them with its magni
tude and significance, and in spite of all
efforts by the leaders of the circle the
conversation dragged heavily, and
would have ceased altogether had it not
been for a fortunate cireumstanee. The
door opened, and a gentleman entered
the ear who was evidently a stranger to
all but one or two of the party, but these
recognized and saluted hint at once, and
begged his aid to dissipate the atmos
phere of dullness which prevailed. lie
cheerfully consented ; an arm-chair was
drawn into the centre of the saloon, and
Professor W., taking his stand behind
it, announced his readiness to test the
science of phrenology by practical ex-
periment upon any who chose to submit
their heads to his manipulation. Never,
certainly, was there better material, for I
the variety and finality of brains in that
little group would have delighted the
soul of Spurzheim himself. One and I
another, all, however, unknown to the
professor even by name, underwent art
examination, and he delineated their
characters even to the Minutest peculi
arities with a most wonderful fidelity—
making not at single mistake in his men-
MI diagnosis, if the evidence of the sub
jects
themselves is to be relied upon.—
There was one feature of these examina
tions which attracted attention and gave
rise to much comment. Not a single
num of note in any profession, whether
soldier, statesman, financier„ writer,
philosopher or inventor, that wigs not at
once pronounced to be. in the words of
the phrenologist, " his mother's child."
The slightest touch of the fingers upon
the cranium appeared to reveal this cu
rious fact, and then would come the
measured phrases—" I do not know this
gentleman, who he is or what he is, but
ant sure that whatever he has been or
may be he owes primarily to his mother.
He is emphatically her child, mid bears
the stamp of her moral and intellectual
nature upon his soul." In every in
stance the verdict of the professor Was
endorsed by the individual.
Without accepting all the teachings
of phrenology as absolutely correct, we
are inclined to believe that in this case
it revealed a grout truth. We believe
if it were possible to investigate the his
tory and parental antecedents of the
great men of every rage and race, it
would be found that the large majority
of them inherited their mother's traits,
and derived from her the abilities which
make them famous.
Washington wits pre-eminently his
mother's child, and whatever was noble,
unselfish and heroic in him, he inherit
ed front that woman who was fit to be a
Roman matron when Rome produced
demigods. Napoleon was the offspring,
of Letitia Rani('lini, rather than of her
amiable husband, Charles; and the un
changing devotion and respect which
he lavished upon her through life, and
the tributes he paid her memory when
she was dead, are proofs that he recog
nized and was proud of the fact. The
nephew of Napoleon sits on the throne
of France, and after a successful reign of
twenty years, which has given him a
glory that no subsequent reverse can ut
terly eflitce, has begun a war which may
make him master of Europe or con
sign him to an exile as ignominious
as that of St. Helena. The checkered
career of Louis Napoleon Banaparte—
his early obscurity and folly, his many
failures, his Unyielding confidence in
his own destiny, and the tremendous
game on which he has now staked the
fortunes of his empire and his dynasty,
all combine to nmke him one of the
most remarkable characters that has
ever appeared upon the stage of human
affair. What and how much of the past
the present and the possible future
does he owe to his mother ? Josephine
Rose Tascher was aFrench creole, born
on the Island of Martinique. At the
age of fifteen she was betrothed
to the Viscount Alexander de Beau
harnais, a French nobleman of wealth
and high social position, who had
met her while on a visit to his col
onial estates. Tradition says that
Josephine was at the time deeply at
tached to a young man whom she had
known from childhood ; that a partial
engagement existed between them
which was to terminate In marriage as
soon as he had completed his studies in
Paris. During his absence Beauharnais
arrived, became desperately enamored,
and proposed for her hand. She was
disposed to reject him and did indeed
discourage his addresses, but her uncle
and guardian was flattered with the bril
lian t match thus offered his peuiless niece
and urged her acceptance. Relatives
and friends joined their importunities,
every argument likely to flatter the
pride and ambition of a young and un
sophisticated woman was brought for
ward, and the natural and general re
sult in such cases followed. She con
sented to discard the man site loved, be
cause he was poor, and
. to marry the
man she did not love, because he was
rich. Crossing the ocean in 1776, Jose
phine took up her residence in Paris,
pending the arrangement of the coming
nuptials. Here, it is said, she met her
abandoned lover, and the old emotions
which she thought and hoped were dead
and buried, revived in full force ; but
she had gone too far to retreat, and after
an interview in which agony and re
morse drove her to the verge of madness
the final parting came. For three months
she sought refuge in the convent of
Panthemont, striving to forget her un
availing sorrow amid the quiet sur
roundings and religious influences of
cloister life. In 1776 she was married;
in 1781 her first and only son, Eugene,
was born, and on the 10th of January,
178:1, her first and only daughter, Hor
tense. Beauharnais was no better and
no worse than the majority of titled
Frenchmen of his day, but he did not
appreciate his wife, indulged in every
species of fashionable dissipation, and
love soon vanished from the unhappy
household to return no more. Writing
to an intimate friend in Martinique,
poor Josephine says:
" Were it not for my children, I should
renounce France withouta pang forever.
My duty requires me to forget William.
And yet if we had been united together,
I should not now be troubling you with
my grief."
By an unlucky chance the husband
saw this letter, and a stormy scene en
sued, which ended in a temporary sepa
ration. Taking Hortense, then but
three years old, the almost broken
hearted woman returned to her island
home, and there remained for several
Years, living in closest seclusion upon her
NUMBER 33
plantation. Meanwhile Beauharuais was
smitten with repentance, and urged his
wife,fo forgive him his manifold fruits
gressrons and rejoin him. She consented,
not for, his sake, however, but for the
sake of her son, who pleaded piteously
for a mother's care and affection. She
landed in Paris in 1789, when the Rev
olution was beginning to throw its ter
rible shadow over France, and before
that shallow had departed it had robbed
her of her husband. Beauharnais was
gullotined ill July, 17111, and Josephine
herself was only saved from sharing the
same fate by the fall of Robespierre.
In March, 1796, she married Napoleon
Bonaparte, and thenceforth her history
is blended with that of the last of the
(';esars. Hortense, then thirteen years
of age, was played at the celebrated
school of Madame tam pan, in Company
with Napoleon's sister Caroline, after
ward the wife of Murat and Queen of
Naples. Here she remained until she
had completed her education, winning
the love of her teachers and class-mates
by a simple, unaffected modesty of de
meanor, and bright and cheerful temper,
which never deserted lter :through all
the changes and bitter trials of a weary
and wretched life. The Duchess D'Ab
rantes gives in her sparkling " Memo
ries " the following sketch of I lortense
Beauharnais at eighteen :
" She was as fresh as a rose, and
though her fair complexion was not re
lieved by much color, she had enough
to produce that freshness and bloom
which was her chief beauty. A profu
sion of light hair played in silky locks
round her soft and penetrating blue
eyes. The delicate roundness of her
slender figure was set off by the elegant
carriage of her head. Her feet were
small and pretty ; her hands very white,
with pink, well-rounded nails. But
what formed the chief attraction of Hor
tense was the grace and suavity of her
manners. She was gay, gentle, amiable.
She had wit which, without thesmallest
ill-temper, hail just enough malice to be
amusing. A polished education had
improved her natural talents. She drew
excellently, sang harmoniously, and
performed admirably in comedy. I have
seen many princesses, both in their own
courts and in Paris, but I have never
known one NOM had any pretensions to
equal talents."
The nearest and most unselfish friend
napoleon ever had was undoubtedly .
Michael Duroc, grand marshal of the
palace under the empire, and Duke of
Friuli. He fell at the battle of Bautren,
May Si, ISI3, anti the Emperor never
recovered limn the blow which his loss
in Meted. Ile speaks tenderly of him in
the St. Helena memoirs, and one of the
largest legacies left in his will was to
the daughter of the luau Wllll had loved
him so well and served hint so faith
fully. \Vhen Hortense entered so
ciety Duna: was a rising young gen
eral of twenty-nine, handsome, brave,
and already distinguished. The pair,
were .necessarily thrown much into
each other's company, and love sprung
up between them as naturally as flowers
leap from the earth to welcome the
smiles of the sun. They would have
married but for Josephine. She had
long since given up all hopes of having
a child herself, and believed that if a
union could be effected between Napo
leon's brother Louis Mid her daughter,
the offspring would be adopted by Bona
parte and recognized as heir apparent.
Napoleon was not unconscious of her
plans, and according to Aourrienne once
remarked :
" Josephino labors In vain. I)uroe
and Hortense love each other, suit they
shall be married. lam attached to Du
roe. Ile is well born. I have given
Caroline to Murat, and Pauline to Le
Clere. I can as well give Hortense to
Duroe. lie is IL4 good as the others. Ile
is General of Division. I tesides, I have
other views fur Louis."
But Josephine succeeded, neverthe
less, and the marriage occurred in
Louis, in his memoirs, says :--" Never
wan there a more gloomy wedding.
Never had a husband and wife a stron
ger presentiment of a forced and unsuit
ed marriage. Before the ceremony,
during the benediction, and every after
wards, we both and equally felt that we
were not suited to each other."
'The couple were mutually wretched
from the outset, and neither the persist
ent efforts of Napoleon and Josephine,
nor the birth of children, could ever
bring them into harmony. They final
ly separated, and after the banishment
of Napoleon, in Isl.l, liortense re
tired to Switzerland with her young
est son, the pre se nt Emperor of the
French, and devoted all her time and
care to his education. To her he owed
that thorough mental discipline, that
courage in adversity, that indomitable
will, that fixedness of purpose, that faith
in the Napoleonic star, which rave ac
companied him through poverty and
distress, sorrow and disappointment,
imprisonment and exile, and placed him
at last upon the proudst throne of Eu
rope. lie, in return, repaid her with a
love amounting, almost to idolatry,
and when in istli the tidings reach
ed him in New York that she lay
on the point of death at Arenem
berg, he hastened across the sea to her
side, and arrived just ill time to close
her eyes. She recognized him, threw
her arms about his neck, whispered a
mother's last blessing upon his lips, and
died.
To-day, as the French soldihs arc
marching towards the Rhine, the hands
of every - regiment are playing tie melody
which Hortense, ill her happier hours,
composed; and it is the son's alrect ion
for the mother which is translated in
" Partant pour la Syrie."
A Strange Sort or Cemetery
Travellers in South America have
made many strange discoveries there—
as strange, indeed,ms those occasionally
reported in the fabled and ever interest
ing East. One of the latest is described
as a sort of cemetery above grimtid. It
is in the desert of Atacama, a plateau in
the wonderful Andes, at an elevation
of about four thousand feet above the
sea. The only evidence that men ever
existed there, Is that human bodies, as
well as those of mules and horses, are
scattered about upon the waste, dried
and shrivelled to mummies by th parch
ing atmosphere. A recent traveller in
that region gives a graphic account of
what he saw, from which we select his
description of the cemetery without
graves:
" Two days journey from Calimm,over
the dazzling sand and through the stif
ling dust, brings the traveller to Chin-
Chin, an ancient Peruvian burying place
still within the bounds of Atacama.
"And here in reserve from him Is a
spectacle which one might safely Ohm
has not its like upon the face of the earth.
It is called a cemetery, by which we
understand a place for the interment of
the dead. But here the dead are not
' buried. Seated in a large semici rele, one
beside anotherare the inu mmied remains
of an assemblage of human beings—
men, women and children—to the llUM
beroffive or six hundred, all apparantly
in the places and attitudes which they
first occupied, and which they have
kept .perhaps for ages. There
,they sit
in the sand, immovable, as in a solemn
council, gazing vacantly, with sunken
and dried eyeballs, into:the arid waste
before them. Nearly all are in the same
position, though some have fallen clown
and are partly covered with the sand.
The hot dry air has preserved them as
imperishably as the embalming art of
the bodies of Egypt.
"What is the explanation of so strange
a scene? Who are these that now con
stitute this ghastly company? Where,
and how, and why did they first take
their places in this vast semi-circle?
" A thousand questions may be asked,
but few answered. The inhabitants of
the country who live nearest to the spot
have no knowledge on the subject.—
Some think that the bodies were brought
hither and placed in this position after
death,
and that such deposit was to
serve the purpose of burial. But where
could the people have lived who brought
their dead to this spot? There is no
habitable region at any convenient dis
tance, and no place of similar design is
known to exist, to prove that it was a
custom common to the aboriginal popu
lation.
"Others believe that this may have
been the remnant of a native tribe,
hunted and pursued by enemies, and
driven to a desperate choice between
two impending evils : to die by their act
or by the weapons of their foes. There
are mothers with infants in their arms
among the mummies, and it is even
thought that the dried and shrunken
countenancesretain sufficient expression
to indicate that some grievous calamity
had overtaken or was about to befall
them. It may be their fancy, but trav
ellers aver that grief and despair may be
traced upon these shrivelled features,
and they are ready to believe that their
possessors might have iieen retreating
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before the conqueror of their coun
try (perhaps from Pizarro himself
and that sooner than submit tamely
to the rapacious and cruel li:inters,
they preferred to hide themselves in
this dreary and inaccessible spot, and
to suffer the agonies of a voluntary
death, sustained by such comforts and
hopes as their own simple faith could
Intim'. We cannot tell ; but there is a
spot on the border of this desert called
Tileutuan, which in the Indian language
means "All is lost." Perhaps the name
commemorates the heroic resolution of
those united people as they sought II
desert. for self immolation.
. _
" It 13 said, too, by those who have
studied the religeous ideas of the an.
ancient PO:thvians, that they believed in
sel f saurlfice:for their country ; that thus
dying they would be speedily - removed
to a better land toward the west."
One of Beast Butler's Little Jobs
The corrupt jobs in which members of
the present Congress have been engaged
are innumerable. They have been multi
tudinous in number and multifarious in
character. Jobs hove been exposed in
volving a waste of millions of public
money, and the donation of millions of
acres of the public lands to railroad cor
porations. Then there have been minor
jobs, ranging downward from a few hun
dred thousands of dollars to a few paltry
hundreds. l'he lobby has ceased to be
an outside concern, and bargains are
made directly with members for their
votes by the parties who desire to pur
chase. In many instances the Con
gressmen are directly interested in the
jobs to be put through. A system has
grown up under which prominent mem
bers of Congress net the part of Attor
neys for parties having claims against
the government, and the fees given to
some admit for such services are very
large. Now and then a job of this kind
is exposed, but such reVelations are so
numerous now that what would once
have called forth universal execration
scarcely excites any attention. to near
ly all these things the men who are Im
plicated are Radicals, members of the
" lod and morality party." The I lar t
ford Times gives the following particu
lars of a case in which two distinguished
Massachusetts loyalists figure:
Horatio Ames matt untutured wrought
iron cannon, and furnished some Or then,
to tile army and navy. got into diffi
culty with (ion. Dyer, of the Ordnance De
partment, Dyer eontlenining the guns and
opposing payment to Ames. Ile ifreferred
charges against Dyer, and the suhject eante
before a conaltatve of Congress of which
(ten. 11. F. !Stiller was a tnembor. Since
then, the claims arising from this contest
have gone to the Courts, n clerk of Butler
suing Ames for a fee of ;$- - (,000. In this so it
r. Ames makes illtereSting deVeleplltelltS.
Ile avers, under oath, that during the time
the Ames-Dyer ease was before the (seinen t
tee of Congress, of which Butler was a
member, he called at It. F. Butler's office
(last January,) for the purpose of consul
tation ; that, says a Washington eorrespon
dent of the Boston Advertiser, "he then
saw Mr, It. D. Whitney, who is Dia
ler's clerk and private secretary, and
swears that he was told by Whitney that
lleneral Dyer wished to make an am icalph•
arrangement through flutter with all per
sons who had entered charges or cuutpini its
against him. iii, turtles swears that he
was informed by Whitney that Butler, fur
the .cunt ,1 $5,000, would undertake 111
secure the withdrawal of I leneral Dyer's
opposition to the payment of Ames' elaim,
provided Ames would withdraw his charge
of conspiracy against Dyer then pending in
Congress. Ile says he was in peen iary em
barrassment because ol• the non-payment
of his claims, and finally concluded to ac
cept this proposition. Thereupon a writ
ten agreement was entered into between
Ames and Whitney, the terms being that
in consideration of Whitney's services in
accomplishing the Withdrawal of Dyer's
opposition, tte., Ames would pay ldni
tl\ ,000 when the claim was realized, and at
onto drop the charge of conspiracy lie had
made against I At the time of malting
this agreeniont„ranuary 110, Is7ll, Attics
paid \ Vhitney :La " earnest money,"
which Whitney, as lie mays, promised to
return in case Cho arrangement was not car
ried:out and aceomplishodin every particu
lar. line of the appropriation bills passed
by Congress at its late session contained a
elapse giving $72,000 to pay Horatio Ames
the amount now due him for wrought iron
rifled guns made by him for the navy by
order of the Bureau of Orduanre, and
tested and accepted by it."
The day after the bill was passed, Whit
ney applied to the court for an order to se
cure the 000, (less $25l already received,)
out Or the appropriation. 'flu, court dis
missed his application with a virtual repri
mand.
Ames then sued Whitney to recover back
the $230 "earliest money," claiming dial
Butler did not accomplish' fur him the ob
ject for which the "earnest money" was
paid. Ames avers in his cross bill to the
court:
"Anti your orator avers and charges that
although in said memorandum of agree
ment, Benjamin 11. Whitney appears to be
the party contracting with your orator, yet
the real party thereto was Benjamin F.
Butler, the said Whitney acting merely as
his confidential clerk, and said Butler not
wishing to appear therein, on :lemma of
his official capacity as member of Congress;
and your orator says he understood and
believed ho was contracting for the per
sonal services of said Butler, and not for
the services of said Whitney; and year
orator says ho would not have contracteil
with said Whitney for the performance of
the business contemplated by said memo
randum of agreement, if he had not be
lieved that in point of tart he was contract
ing with said B. F. Butler."
Butler will laugh at this exposure. Ile
knows there is not virtue enough among
his constituency• to mete out to hint the
lpunishment of defeat and disgrace which
ie so richly merits. The Yankees of
Massacliusetts are disposed to look
Wilk favor upon any scheme of
money making, and they will not,
call Butler to account for doing
what, they would do if they were in his
place. One of the grossest abuses of our
day Is this thing of legislators tak
ing fees for pushing through claims
and bills involving an appropriation of
public money. It Is the worst and the
most dangerous state in which a brilw
can be presented. An honest man
would scorn such a proposition, but hon
est men are scarce in our legislative
assemblies now. Men like Ben. Buller
go to Congress for the express purpose
of making money by such infamous
means. It may be that the people will
yet awaken to a realizing sense of the
danger which is to be apprehended from
the almost universal corruption which
prevails. Until they do the reign of the
thieves will continue,
Truthful and Obedient
" Charles ! Charles !" Clear and sweet
as a Into struck from a silver bell, the
voice rippled over the common.
"'That's mother," cried One of the
boys, and he instantly threw down his
bat and picked up his jacket and cap.
" Don't. go yet!" " Have it out."—
" Finish this gaine !" " Try it again !"
cried the players in noisy chorus.
" I must go—right Mr—this minute.
I told her that I'd come whenever she
called."
" Make believe you don't hear!" they
all exclaimed.
" But I did hear."
" She won't know you did."
" But I know it, and—"
"Let him go," said a bystander.—
" You can'tdo anything with him. Ile'm
tied to his mother's apron strings."
"That's so," said Charlie, "and it's
what every boy ought to be tied to ; and
in a hard knot too."
" But I would't be such a baby as to
run the minute she called," said one.
" 1 don't call it babyish to keep one's
word to his mother," answered the obe
dient boy, a beautiful light glowing in
his blue eyes. " I call that manly ; and
the boy that don't keep his word to her
will never keep it to any ong else—you
see if he does!" and he hurried away to
his cottage home.
Thirty years have passed since those
boys played on the common. Charles
Gray is now a prosperous business man
in a great city, and his mercantile
friends say of him, that "his word is as
good as his bond." We asked him once
how he acquired such a repution.
" I never broke my word when a boy,
no matter how great the temptation, and
the habit formed then, has citing to me
through life.
Fine Wooled Sheep
Sanford Howard says in the Lansing
Republican, that as fine wool can be pro
duced in this country as in any other;
that it is simply a question of profit.
He says further that the finest wool can
be produced as cheaply as the coarser
!grades. The sheep producing:it : are
generally not as hardy, and do not yield
so heavy fleeces; they are slow in reach
ing maturity, do not fatten well, and do
not make very good mutton. The
demand for thesetinest wools is small
compared with that for other qualities,
and has decreased, as broadcloth is not
so generally worn asformerly. Ho
thinks, however, thatthe country would
be benetitted by producing this wool.