TOILWOMMAIGENCIP. 10 / 1 *trAggulaAooo4ll. ear ~i PqmiNginiMilhvi , , Irm 11 3 , 74 x , , ntr,f 1..11017/.1/i1111114il) (finale. / 1 i•/i. 11,• /1 /1,11/66.1.0114•T1N 1:1.01.1,1 11111, 'l , t„ •11 It,-., .1 ,•) nr,llll I , IIW/119AI }llthigt m . o. :- Er , 111J,'' , 11.&..31 1 eirlintgle• , . /it. lin &X ••,.// ./ •1 1 't ) , li• , . 1........ tl r tll - -•/" a yyy ,, ,al i • ~ (I 71 /:. 1 ,1 ~( 1: 1. , ' ) •A ' 14 ' 41 B r Tr _ APl :o°ll ' 4 *i W` I *OW= ,PPNWeI il. aßciaq9 B, n.' , PliT'"r , , ~ ~ ci , (1 , 0 , " 'III , , I 1,/ ..,17711i;.111.11 / - 7/ A fiti ZAl4l9iiinetePAErii innlittlO'NNcriE4 tia pblished died letianing;Sulitlaylarpted;, MI per annum in advan03.1,,,, T , . n, . ,1.,,, . • - , ' II el . . 11 r tlletrlot.4inthrwsEriVciaxim , br , .• ,;',l. oettny ' • Wl:walleye you hend:tldsjong,llrlght. day?" I said rod.,night Le oks Sir od ehltdl . ,..., il i "I've ben t o the ivoti to ell if 'Mai . Is, co Ing," ahe'sald, and. Orattgo• Addled. "Andlrhatdlr‘u find:sweet searcher—what? H0V114% ,wondareward you quest? "1 fo d ,tiluts target, me-not, Andiro ip, thrnying iholtt her nest: "'A Malang greases and aloVer-shoots, 'A.nd , a bluebtribsinglng .overhead; .A•lolets:under SCUM gttartcri Old. rots, . . th,og . And nodaalt.n.ahntes white and , red; "Porn(' stal.-flo*ers, too. by a shady pool— SueMweti white , things'!-and I bathed my /feet In adanclog rivulet, clear and cool, And ,I gathered fermi [tad mosses street; "0, and SO m a ny things besides! • liut.now lam tired ; pleane—good night!" And Win lays her hand in mine and alltlins (len Li,y; gracefully out olnlglit. • BM: het last wordi haunt me, ion. and low— " 0, and no many Lathan besidde Ah,sweetdreamer I yen little _knew All the meputug that in them bidet, , . Faith in'an End as'yet unseen, Mitindiens thiht In 'h promised Gond There were the spells that you brought yestreen Richest of from that titm,oLd wood 1 _ I:WTI, 0 robin, your downy neat! ISlng,.o bluebird, and dance, 0 atrearn ! Spring:Ml green things, and own her guest tkrrue, 0 May-time, and urowg her dream ! THE BULB T OAT STOOD ON A STEVIE BOAT -DECK. 1 he rani° utood on a steamboat. deck, The land he would not tread; That' polled the halter round hie neck, And crocked 11 ho o'er the head. Yet firm and Mendfust there he Mood Jixtlimigh formed for to rule; A. critter of heroic blood Wun thut. [Litre rumed mule. They en.Sed rind swore—he woeld not go Until he felt blelined; And though they showered blow on blow lie wauldn't change hls mlnd. The deck hoods to the shore then cried "This here mule's hound to stay," And still upon tilP critter's hide With lush they tired away. II In master from the shore replied ..The bnat's about to mill, And every other meat+ you've tried Suppose you to let Ms tail!" "lex likely that will make him lar Tho deck marl, brave, though liar Approached hl,n with outstretched band To twilit that there mule's tall. There came a sudden kirk behind! That man—oh! where Wee ? Ark of the eerily blowing wind, The &hes in the sea. For a moment there was not a sound Ax that mule winked his eye, An though to ask of those around, "Now, how Is that for high ?" " Cut that there mule' ti throat right away The captain did MAlll.lllllld. Rut the uohlemt critter killed that day Was the fearless, brave leek-hand. itliscellanrous. I From AM/111,01CH JOUrlllti.l The Death-Watch. " Didn't you hear it?" " When?" " Just now." n No." " They say it foretells death. Hush!" The two men sat motionless. Not a sound broke the silence, not even a creak of the old boards in the floor, or a sigh of wind, or a flapping shutter. They say it foretells death. I heard it last night and the night before. What's that?" " Nothing. It's stiller than a grave yard." " I heard it last night and the night before about this time, near one. 'Tain't ti very pleasant sound, and this old gar. ret's dismal enough any way." "Monk, you're afeard, nothing. Don't waste no more time. I'm dead tired and sleepy. You wouldn't have been in this old hole now if it hadn't been for Peters." " NO; if it hadn't been fnir Potorn, strike, liko enough, would have took. lint he won't stand in nobody's way again." While Monk spoke, be drew out a sharp, slender knife, and run his auger along the blade: "I tell you, Shlllet, we must do it the night after this blast's done, and the men in the shed say the coal will run out on the flth, that's to-morrow. When Peters is lixed, the malinger will have to give in or quit runnin' the furnace." Both men sat with their arms leaning on the table, and the flickering light of the tallow-candle between them showed two faces, rough, begrimmed by smoke and soot, and tilidigured by evil passions, that grew fiercer as they calmly plotted against the life of a fellow-being. 'We'll meet at one, where the roads cross. It'll be quiet then, and Peters' house Is alone." "I'll he all right," said Hid'let, with a grin that rendered his brute-like coun tenance doubly repulsive. "I'm con found ed tired, Bring your candle and light me down them infernal stairs.' The men stood up. Monk, small and was dwarfed by the almost, giant stature of hie companion. With a few parting words as to secrecy and silence, they separated. Monk stood on the upper step until Hhillet disappeared, then closed the door and replaced the candle on the table. The room, neither large nor small, was a mere hole, smoked, dirty, and un phtstered, high up In a frame tenement house. Two or three chairs, an °Mellott of drawers, a rickety bedstead, and pine table, composed its furniture. Some old boots and brokenpieces of pig-iron lay genttered about. The small, box-shaped window weS set Just below where th ceiling or roof sloped to the wall. The only door led directly to the stairs that went down two, three flights to the gronud. There were many such places in Agatha, where the furnace-hands lived t Monk' walked rapidly up and down the room, as If making an effort to wear off the excitertient that the last few mo ments had brought upon him. His fea tures had lost much of the malignant expression, which was by no means habitual. His countenance was not hardened or stamped with the impress of crime like Skillet's, who had Just parted front hint at the door—a counte nance in which every trace of conscience had long ago been erased. Monk's face was neither good nor bad, neither bright nordull ; but he was a tnnn easily wrought into n passion, governed by Im pulse. Crossing to the table, lie slung his coat over a chair, and stretched out his hand to extinguish the light. Midway in the action lie suddenly checked him self, looked hurriedly around the room for an Instant, and stood motionless, with inclined head, listening intently. Not around disturbed the .stillness.— Pinching out the light, he threw him self on the bed, and in the darituess there soon came the heavy regular res piration of Bleep. The houses at Agatha nestled under the north °HIE A hundred feet above them the railroad lost itself in the black mouth of a tunnel and re-appeared be yond, a Ii igh wall:of : trestlework stretch ing southward do wit the valley to Ely's Mines. Hours ago, the toiling men and cattle had laindeviu to rest, and now the wild, rocky hills around slept is the moonlight. Na. sound broke upon the etilless but the muilled.puff, pull, of the furnace, and a murmur of frogs that rose.and , fell interruptedly along the shtunken: , water-course.' The cabins under the chit' shone white and sharp; the' iron' on the' metal-swlteh :Embed witfeatnillitin'gerns; ;the rails up , * the trestle,. reeeding, ' turned to sliver, the 'foliage of early di W. red ou the trees.., A. few passionless sirs blinked feebly in the yellow light, where.the cat against the sky, and sank below the , verge.i Calmly, peacefully'watied the n ighti—caltuly and ' peacefully, as though the spirit of evil had.'net'ilalked abroad' plotting the death: and,intit' of liteti's heilles and souls. . .„ • That narrow spot aground, with the houses down in tha.,v.alley, formed the world ,for ,four hundred! people.. The furnace-hands and their families saw nothing:beyond the hills and roeks that hen:Midi:l' l M their knew tioth ing of the mad 'tumults outside.• 'An untanght, sturdy raket if men, dif ferthey e 4 little from one another.' Every, day, ,W,hen,tba Sun rose,.., they f o rth,to ant every night, whefftbe great furnace, ver the. reek glimmered red they lay down. to sleep. ,But. ignor ance audsuperstition-idled their hearts,' and anger and hate; and jealousy, were as rffinitriOug - them ati the"crdwded • tkildthEj444l4' ) V aged, and,,'pe IsA4VII Nov i 1 Z P,4 freA 14 1 1= fox vlast-iini Or rim. 'OOOll/3 0 blue Seines leaped up from the furnace, lurid as the fiery tongues of a volcano. ..1. 1 . ~ 1 - - a k_/_L 1_ ../_ -- I_llJ_ e -.I- ..AtI. , LJLCALD._ ielk--LL-4-. Y,/ • O_A_A_t_ , .._, e_l_i...._f_. 7,..".4.i—L.i.._i_u_i_.... . _.—... - --- , .b9,Hrit:buo') - unit - ctlal;qs.l odr ' .cu 11510) ittiol. ed elqbaL fr:lU • uz,ll A r - .1)5 - Zis lilt' 5. qua odT i .fla. - A-UX 50 no ectrilsd?, fr.ilfrii . ) . sdi 14. :::-ii!:10,1,5110-..) 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It crayriedi, and turned . and , crawled, rib after rib, until it lay like some huge skeleton, stretchedatipen the ground., A. thin vapor floated up lathe, a iiipbu rou 5 iiiF an dquiverpdrivit4 reflect id snleridOr.', The scarlet:a rted men, looked' weird . In: the uneart , y bright, ness. The yellow glow , f" ed to red that deepened to a blood-Coloied spot in the night. The, bell rang to discharge the hands, and aquadk oftleubroke up, scattering in the dark.' ' ' ' Monk went to his garret-room, hesi tated a moment at the door, then passed in and shut it so vlolentiy that the floor shook. He' struck a 'match. In :the brimstone light a hotrible demon Coun tenance wavered, blue and ghastly ; but, when the candle flamed, it 'grew Into Monk's face, covered by the black scowl of rage that had disfigured It once before —a rage that was freshly roused. If I'd bad my knife, I'd have done it Just now, when .I stumbled against Win. But be dies to-morrow night at—" The words froze on his lips, •and his black, scowling face was suddenly over spread by a strange pallor. He stood motionless, as if chained to the floor, his eyes darted quickly about, and lie seem ed to suspend his very breath. A clear, distinct, tiepin g mound occur red at regular intervals for ,a minute, and left profound silence. Monk raised his bead. " It's a sign of coming death. That's r Peters. There it is again !" The strange sound, like a faint me- tal lie click, repeated itself several times. " D—II it! I don't like to hear the thing. But there will be a sudden death." Time after time Monk heard at inter vals the maple faint sound, like the tick ing of a watch for n minute, and it made his blood run cold. He found himself listening to it with terror, and in the long silence always straining his ears to catch it, always expecting, dreading its repetition ,until the th ing grew more bor ri ble to him than a nightmare. eldme times he would fall into a doze, and wakening with a start, hear it, while cold perspiration broke in drops on his forehead. It grew intolerable. He swore he would find the thing and kill it, but it mocked him in his search. The sound seemed to come from the table, but when he stood beside the table it ticked so distinctly at the window that he thought lie could put his linger on the spot; but when he tried to, it had changed again, and sounded at the head of his bed. Sometimes it seemed close at his right, and he turned only to hear it on the other side, then in front, then behind. Again and again he searched, and swore in his exasperation and dis appointment. The sound became exaggerated by his distempered imagination, till lie trem bled lest some one else should hear this omen which so plainly foretold his an ticipated crime. Once an hour dragged by, and his unseen tormentor was si lent. His eyes that had glittered with deadly hatred, now wore a startled look and wandered restlessly about the room. An owl, that perched on the top-most branch of a high tree near by, screamed loud and long. A bat flew in at the open window, banged against the ceil ing, and darted out. Monk shivered. Leaning his head between his arms, he drummed nervous ly on the table with his fingers. In stantly the clear metallic click sounded again. Ire looked up, and a strange light broke into his face, a mixed ex pression of amazement amid fright. For moment he seemed stupeheu, raising his hand he tapped lightly against the wood with his finger-nail. The last tap had not died until it was answered by what seemed like a fainter repetition of itself. Uttering a fearful oath, Monk recoiled from the table, but, as if drawn back and held by a weird fascination, he sat an hour striking the hard surface with his nails, and pausing for the response that each time came clear and distinct. Gray streaks crept along the east, and ulvered like a faded fringe bordering the black canopy. Still he sat tapping, but no answer came. He waited, listen ed vainly ; no echo, no sound, •and the (lull, hueless light of the cloudy morn ing glimmered at his window. Then he threw himself on his bed and fell into restless slumbers. A damp thick fog enveloped the houses in its slimy embrace. At night fall its reeking bolds gathered them selves from the ground, and a noiseless dizzle came suddenly down. Monk had not stirred from his room all day. The feverish sleep Into which he had fallen lied frtfithim before noon, and now he stood Ills window looking out into the blackness. A clammy air blew against his face. lie stretched out his hand and drew it back suddenly, as if he had touched the dead. It was cold and moist. Ho rubbed It violently against his clothes, as though he could not wipe our the dampness. A tremor seized pon hint. 1-lark! was that the dripping of water? No. A sickly smile played over his countenance. He went to the table and tap ped lightly with his lingers, as he had clone before. In an other moment the taps were answered, and he involuntarily counted as they came, one—two—three—four—live—six seven—then all was silent. Ho made the call a second time, he tried It over and over, and at each response it ticked seven times, never more, never less, but seven times clearly, distinctly. Sudden he sprang up, and through shut teeth hissed " The seventh day, by Heaven ! But I'll cheat you—l'll not kill him ! " He darted noislessiy down the stairs, and struck out through the woods. In half an hour lie emerged on the edge of a clearing, a dozen . yards from a chop per's cabin. Creeping stealthily to the door he shook then, after a moment's irresolution, cried out: " Peters ! Peters ! look out for Shiflet. He hassworn to murder you to-night." Without waiting for a reply he sprang away, and was quickly lost among the trees. A moment afterward a tall form prose out of the shadow of a stump near the cabin, and passed rapidly in an opposite direction. At the summit of the hill east of Agatha, a steep precipice is formed by a great, bare, projecting rock. From the valley, its outline resembles an enor mous face in profile, and they call it "The lievil's Head," The full moon rendered the unbroken mass of cloud translucent, producing a peculiarly sin ister effect. The mist still blew through the air, but in the zenith there was a dull ashen hue, and the surrounding cloud was the color of earth. The far-off hills loomed up majestic, terrible, against the gloom; nearer objects were strangely magnified in the tawny light. At the foot of this phantom crag, on a terrace, Is the ore-bank and blackened coal-shed. Below rose the metal-stack, from whose stone...hearth a waste of eand sloped gently tothe creek. The furnace squat , ted grim and black. Its blood-shot eye' was shut.; its gaping-throat uttered no sigh, no groan; its throbbing pulse was stilled—tiae fierce, struggling monster was dead. The only bright spot in all I the:valley was the yellow circle made I by, the watchman's lantern in the wal -1 shed. ' Afterleavingthe " ehoppings," Monk threaded his way .through. the torest, coming out at last. on the 'opals road.. This road led direetly over the" Head," :and entered" the valley 'liY:a r steep &Scent half a to the south,' At the precipice' Morik' wised. , The, wind eddied with a mournful wall,;and: the constant motion of tall trete gavethe. scene almost the wavering,. unsubstan tial appearance of a vision. There was something oppressive 111 - this" strange midnight but Monk. did not feel it. He only felt inexpressi ble'..relief ; he Only • stopped' there 'tifi breathe, to breathe' freely once ntord with the ,heavY thrown , trona' him. After a monaerithe ran.earelesslY, down the hill, passed under the ore-cars. and into the coal shed. Elo hailed Pat - tenon, the watchman, aid , the, lantern. threw gigantic shadows of the,two:rnen over the ground. Then he walked along the , narrow cindered-rOad lead in s kto the e o bridVer the' ereek.“ f3oliieti s the thht ofi e}ther Adde;:Wept .theirda~splttatr alter hl4:.f be„ n. .4c* 44 . 09. Y9. 41 4i m stasrted,*(viiki: ,fleeded ,nOt,,,toZ ke„wao rites and lighforhatirt,ii f..1.[ pi I Monk reached the stairs, and ascend ed room. As he passed in, the • , ai 11 1411 H, 1411 .901' \ •011:11.10.: a • • • • , •vt 11. -- ,3 , 1 .•Lii flOictilitgl figure:'rereid of 131affiat sprang' upon. him front - I:whin& The're norm) muttecesi:oathai:ltheit a heavy fall. Monk IskystrOctked_npon glot-itonrrfinot. ticmlesa r lifeieaa, amithe eckp,okftecing steiSq aled:',. l 4WAY; ie-sag P**lit4lP. 13 0 th6..4*. "The Steilanes briTyinen) ",The hard and unpleasanttruthmay. at Well be stated," say, !apperaiig.B " githlig9 B qo4 l 4o.isC4ViclitX;ce , with large generil facts e overfwhich it dividuals can e?tereir, that in numbers, tA:i .y ,pi,,Fise af fected by the teMPer and w*ea of, the people. , This,tilat fact about.,MArtlage; is not only prosaic , , but huiniliatsg. Shall not these ,people choose cornpan-c ions for life, and, listen to the clerical " What God bath Joined together let no man put. aeunder,?, such time aa. they : ra may ntillilly' agree ,upon:?. ) i tY means. The laws says they sh 1.,d0 neitherof these things; and the peculi arity of.this law is that it cannot be vio lated. .Furthermore , all who desire it will not be permitted to Marry: •What is to be said of such immitigable tyranny as this? Not marry when we'chocise, or whom we choose I Not to be coMmited as to whether we.shall marry or not: What is life worth if these things are to be decided without our knowledge or consent? Net much, perhaps; but we might just as well learn the disagreea ble fact at once and submit to it. Na ture is fund of cheats, and plays her charlatanry irrespective of perstms— "Mon aro the sport of circumstances; when The circumstances seem the sport of men. Prospero, and that Puck is after all noth ing but the personified price of corn.- These illusions and hallucinations are results of the operations of law, and we cannot disturb them, though we pile formula on formula, and equation upon equation, until the revolving earth is light as a feather, compared with the weight of the argument. Per contra, what carespassion for the multiplication table, or love for the differential calcu lus? A Pico for you, law of statistics! Nevertheless, Maud commits an unin tentional perjury when she vows her husband shall be the man of her choice, and we all know that Adolphus Fitz herbert will repeat Romeo's blunder. " Leaving the domain of fancy, 'we find the plain statistical facts con cerning marriage running somewhat in this wise : " Youth has its illusions and middle • age its hallucinations, wherefore these teachings of statistics may go hang. Does not Romeo actually know that he chooses Juliet In preference to Rosalind? Is it at all probable that Miranda would have escaped marriage with Caliban if she had never met the shipwrecked Fer dinand'? Whereand what Isthe tricksy Puck that makes maidens see as he wills and transforms Demetrious and Lysander, subject to no law save his own? Alas ! this plodding and prosaic statist, this withered and be-spectacled mathe matician will prove to you that Romeo is mistaken. "The average age of women, when they marry, i; 25.i0 years, and of 100 who reach this age 21 will never marry. With menit fares differently ; for, strange a.e it may seem, more women than men get married, and, of 100 of the latter who reach the marriage age of 25:9 years, 22 will die bachelors. Thus, about one fifth of our people are doomed to die un wedded, whether they prefer it or not. WIDOWS AND WIDOWERS " Now, the marriages that occur in New York number, year by year, about 9,280-18,560 persons—and for every one of these marriages there will at some time be left a widow or widower; for it rarely happens that husband and wife die at the same moment Some of those widows and widowers will remarry— more of the latter than the former—and rnrai ri,e gerril numtwr of women who marry exceed e actual number of men. The rule seems to be that about one in three widowers and one in four widows remarry. "Of 100 marriages, about 13 of the men will be widowers, and only 11 of the women will be widows, the bache- tors numbering 87 and the spinsters 89. On general principles, there may be no serious objection to old Weller's advice, 'Bevare of vidders ;' but we, not.basing our conclusion upon domestic experi ence,:but upon a series of mathematic calculations, can absolutely affirm that widows do not, by any means, monopo lize the matrimonial market, and that there is more to be feared from one spin ster than from a dozen widows (let bach elors make a note of this fact), for the truth is that spinsters have a better sue cess against widows In the hunt for hus bands than the bachelors have against widowers in the winningof wives. And, as all the hunting and winning is above the will, and superior to It, wo cannot say 'beware' to any, but simply admon ish all to accept the condition and to yield as gracefully as possible to their predestinate fate, whatever it may be— whether single blessedness or wedded woo ; conjugal felicity or unwedded dis content. " Suppose there be a hundred wed dings In New York within a given time, In all respects of the average kind how many of thesepersons will be min ors? From Paracelsus and Cagliostro down to Home and Fox, not one of all the soothsayers and clairvoyants can tell you that. No palm-reading glpsy, no spirit from the vasty deep, let him be called by no matter What boasting Glendower, can tell half so much of. these occult events as this interroga• ting mathematician will learn from his curious figues and bewildering signs. Ask him, and he will reply, without any mummery or gibberish, twenty four will have been married and about nineteen will be under age. Of this latter number all but one will be women —spinsters not yet out of their teens.. At all events, this is the result of his present calculations, and if time and increased numbers should alter the averages, he will learp the fact sooner than auy one else. The remainder will be bachelors and spinsters of the aver age age of 20.5 for the former, and 25.46. for the latter. "What the law is that makes bachelors so much more prudent than spinsters we will riot undertake to say; but cer tain it is that maidens make much more haste than young men in getting into the matrimonial net. Still, it must be remembered that girls, whether prudently or not, are regarded as marriageable at fifteen, and .are cer tainly so at seventeen ; so that in view of the fact that only eighteen in every hundred of the delicate creatureswho marry are under twenty years of age, while forty-three of th e same hundred are between twenty' and thirty-five, and twenty-tWo more between twenty-flve and thirty, we must candidly confess that they manifest a degree of prudence in the matter that would seriously dis turb Mr. Malthus were he only aware of it. We will not say that marriages pre vious to the adult age is invariably .In discreet ; but we will defy nny. „amen to form ajust conclusion in regard to the age of d iscretion from the stinly Of mar riage statistics. To find this result, the marriage and mortuary tables must .bg: studied together. The question is of, some. importance, but it must be unwil litigiy deferred. - --• , THE); ELIGIMIE " But if , women come upon: the' may , riageatile list earlier than men; they'ailf. ter the Inconvenience of being ,Striciceit' ear ier 4 5 , :Eit*Pjp! iortgretieo Ft, 40,.p 1 6 1 b, e t . rias,trlnacair; ally, and the _demand for wives Ofitlita •age is , so alight as to, he hardly,,wordh. considering, although , we find .1111,oeca sional widow—still more ramly a spin ng to marry even after having , passed- the ,- sprightly , 'age' f threescore' years and tetk. ,, Under 23•yeatit‘of'dge the' *hob& of wonien 'Who Muhl , ie . little more than' 'f f iViee"as great' 'ha the number of men ; but, atter43, the num ber cd.Benedicts is nlcitetlian thrice that, of the '' Tn 1,090 marriages (f 4 the. average to ages; 14"Worneti, 49 men will have 'passed their:ninth lustrum. Widows remarry aan aver; age, iige of 39 years, while the, average age of widowerii who again take to theni seltreie 'ccinjugtil partnere Is 41 or theie ,) aboUt. : I ' TABLID OF CHANCES. We,wili not undertake .to ea of our fair readers hbV"old she will tk what led to'the alter a`bliishhig bride; if that should prove to be her • &tinny i• but we can tell her what4he chances are lit the ,presentistateeflour knowled gaol' etatistkal facie,' If wetakeithesselisitngs, ,that , actutdly occur,iweishaiktinduthati , in ievery,!thousand, I luirebwillilberpl99l ssilves under 20 years, .while,these mill be only 9 husbands of that age. But perhaps these facts will be better stated i 4.: 1)1,1, et 1,1 • :,:,/,i;iern ; -:1!/;rfl WOOTFatitl.,:p4;l; irt4it '. ' rcal texmilto time Lin-every then sand,marriages-ithewndll Vie, ~., i...:. , , 'lstak. , -. , .z.„„,. _:: itin, tt: , n11.., ,,- In.f.' ,, - , ~: baads , .:l YrlYel• Il'ii , , ACM 11,:, ,- .1,! , 1. , 1.1 9' ......,Mt-L. :..;;Ages years or a. zat.l7!..:%..::t4s4 , ...'...eiiuliarantrsss/antiaMe. '1348.r.v.,:.. /558,....113.3tirien 26arata0.years orage... , ita_...un.,...si..:_ißezweensa slid ti Yells:of ote; 834 , 4.1,--ria....80 1 1404 Z.SOOYalifil Of, NO. 44---i 2 4. 7 -1 3 erer404 , d 5 YAWS Pf OP. 2 d .-'...'.... B......nerween - 45 ' 50 Vara aeags, .., : : t .....:.i. ' 1 7 •:1V..11=t1= 541-'- g f rZ , ~ " The r emainder , nide , inenland 'five Worn en iv/ill:kid scattered Vms .k isOtweert 60 and , 80 , yetirs- , - , itztigerit'tlilqialmost r ._,,,otie“trotild 'lO, e - peeto,' ` 'know trti''-lt r *P l :it Oth? , ; /i.kiNV.# , 4_, , 'Lllt t ' 4 4e§/tPika - 'f ,M the ql?tkt. OtPhY or ItiatTrilo.9iii:l4.4 l 4 6 ..P.igtlit r 54 . 11, 4exes. affer4o7,-uP.t44oat, age:both seem.•to, in crease., I In '274000. marrlagesynr or. them. will he 139artert and only 16 women between 60 and 70 years of. age, while 14 men and 4 women will be be tween .70 and 80, • - orn MAIDS.. "Interesting ' as these ancients are, there is 'still anothei, Class deaerving.Of something more than apasslrig :notice. We mean old maids. Blow many. are there, and what are their ixiatrinarmial chances?,We have:already stated that 21 'tin t'Of every' 100 women who reach the marriage age, namely 25.48 years, never marry. .But even this does not tell the exact number of marriageable Women who are waiting for husbands, if indeed' So ungallant - a 'thing as this maybe Said of any. But, then; how is it posisible to expect an algebraic sign to be guilty of gallantry? From the best authority that can, be had upon this ex ceedingly interesting topic, it appears that the n umber of unmarried and mar riageable women, within those hereto forementioned as the marriageable ages, namely 15 and 45, about 2.5, per cent. of the whole number of women living between those A.,ges. ” It seems to be a part of the creed of the discontented sisterhood, whether wives or spinsters, that one of the in alienable rights of , woman entitles her to a husband. It will be seen that na ture sets her face' against this assump tion, and Makes a very different decree. The truth is that every woman living between the ages of 15 and .45 has 25 chances in 100 of dying an old maid— that is, her chances of marriage are as four to one. This is just enough to give them all hope, and not sufficient to drive any to despair The complaints of man aging mammas are of no avail. Even the ballot will not bring them a better fate, and, with suffrage or without it, one-fourth of all between the above named ages are doomed to live in old maidenhood and to die unlausbanded. "Our task Is done. In dealing with these secrets we have doubtless been dull; but these bard facts will . not ad mit of poetic treatment even if we were capable of treating facts poetically.— When Benedick enumerated the vir tues of the woman he would con sent to husband, he said: ' Her hair shall be of what color it please God.' He might have trusted the same good Providence—call it fate, des tiny, or. whatever you will—for all the other qualities just as well. An old adage says: 'Marriages are made in Heaven,' but I3enedick's was made in old Leonato's garden, as all know ; and it is absolutely tree in every case, as it was in the one we are considering, that those most interested have less to do with the result than they can well imagine, or, if they knew, would be willing to admit. For the individual that which he desires is good, that which he would shun is evil; but in the grand economy of the universe the two are so evenly balanced and so closely intertwined that he must be bold, indeed, who would undertake to say which is which. Talleyrand, upon being introduced to two young men, one recently mar ried, the other still a bachelor, called the former a happy man, and the latter a lucky dog. This is the broad philosophy W e amln t c t tioa3. Those who live un die married are worthy of no envy, for which of the two events is better no one can possibly determine." , An In• Door Photograph The woman who Is able to systema- the and carry on smoothly the work of an ordinary family illustrates higher sagacity than is called for by seven eighths of the tasks done by man. Men take one trade and work at ft ; a moth er's and housekeeper's work requires a touch from all trade, A man has his. work-hours and his definite tasks; a wcitdan has work at all hours and an incessant confusion at all tasks. Let any man'do a woman's workfor:a single day; wash and dress the children, having provided their clothes the n ight before ; see that breakfast is under way to suit a fault-finding husband ; the wash-boiler on with water for the wash, and the clothes assorted ready for washing ; the dish-water heating, and a luncheon thought out for achool-goers ; a nice din ner in the good man's dinner-pail ; the beds made after proper airing, and the bugs fought oil' and kept down • the father's convenience exactly hit for family prayers; the systematic sweep ing of the house at least once a week, and of living-rooms once to three times a day, according to the number of men to bring in the mud; the actual washing and outhanging of clothes; the drying, sprinkling and folding and to-morrow, the Ironing of the same ; the sorting and mending of them, and provision of new ere the old gives out; the making of bread three times a week, with cakes and pies In tercalated judiciously ; pickles, pre serves and cellar-stores to be laid In and not forgotten In their seasons; chil dren's manners tote attended to ; com pany to be entertained; her own person to be tidied up to please his eye ; the tired him to be welcomed and wait ed on by the no less tired her, and the home made cheerful ; his trow sere to be patched after he goes to bed, "so he can put them on in the morning ;" the children to be helped about their lessons and reminded not to forget their Sunday school lesson, the shopping and marketing to be done for the household ; house repairs attended to, and matters In general kept straight around home. Meanwhile " pap must not be troubled or hindered about his work," because his work brings in the money. Yes, the • man's work' brings the money. But man's work does not tax the head and heart and hands as woman's work does. Besides this, man is helped by many 'strong relishes and incentives to labor.. He is out In .the world among folks. He comes and goes and is refreshed in spirit. But woman works alone and almost unknown: To please her hus band, and her God is possibly her only motive, and alas, how manywlvestherw be who sob In secret before their, God because they fail to win one smile ,or ,word of praise from their husbands. Ti Is stupid and brdtal for any ordinary man to be finding fault with women. The Influence or Pretty Women Life becomes more harmonious, it beet? .with wkeener pulse of enjoyment, in the pFesencebf pretty women. • After all,"aeharrnlng little figure, a piquant little face, Is the best remedy for half the ills of existence, for worries, HA vex . - anew, ills dullness, ita disappointnaente .Apci eyep in,the larger, apel.mure.piad. tyt of behuty,'ln the or a Lady Du belle, if there is it tinge of attifddity; Uwe is, , at'any ratiyatv , atmoVhett of tepose, a genial influence, moulding our social converse and ..icalats into gentler 1 3. haPPP7 • „' It 48 irtnusieg to ,see hp*, the:prettiness ,pf vklinatc fel - 1k nil'her"dresk lidiv' thg eriffir mid •ttiehonie.. of -beauty,:the , habg, of,preitipess, givenn ideal dignity. •to t r. 57 very firrangeinent,of her ,boon t. s •eVery niovenierit, fhb ")•4 ijideep' of fier'inadfile"folds' • Exhirof her liingubri,iinftliettly kart of er-rateitementi one•feeht the. softening;, armonizipg.ind cffi tier ; last A4.19,k In the glw.. .4,xnay, ,ful 'or 'energOtio,'but ming be, ptetby eXerefaeli arc 'inifieVeeP-' Aiblecerdpulsionliveristir,vrhb3hlmoulds her WhOkeafe.intpgrAcefuttuld lsarmon-i lona forws. r l,i,r.,FlF,l§43 rims 4pt.pt,Al4e men 3 hkithing, of i r j antp. .FegionB ' Eidfkibkbf 1:66 fait Aawaked •edusidehithitikAila bisferhannbraleir'or .01orpfxnatrasta I oorresimuidenoles, cat, aatiStßellttC* l . o lA l M-. 11 4 1 4 qlA4 l 4Oi! dictate.M. 9lY*P e ..nt4l47 :l . 4 n t a of itticidi. • • • • And ad on /hit hainertinowersgliotinea,i Weeny. nt'44lt9f prtitc4,9lkontheee tor r it el tiVaae:tgi n ilifrOffMk sciiiitatitrge mil setting of preityilvomeml ~ l lliftfaitrof the boudoir tells on all but•the chaos of the husband's study. Around that last -r .17,Toi i • . .Ki: •' ~ 1 AyYMO 1 1 refuge of bartuirism goats soldrhosp ere of taste - iiiid.'rernernerit ' - 'irtifcb: the pretty veffei3ittif4.o4 l ml64 and !Miler b Ili '4.tidfreitifthfitOfie kif ;the - bag oO*Of ; thOtone 'Of abefetY;thAphaidla l / 4 0, 0 4°0 Xufwiki 10.Frgtr f fir? ktralo. .eatiNgeill49n .f or other .-of geuMenees of vivacity. Illo:veryikisks of the rough-tonea 'that have thundered over Peloponese es :Pericles. bends.-Oves Aswan; ths:littietunisanct delieAcies at phrase; the joyotiSserfdonSs stididlenik4 of the •an stillest epd 'most 'energetic 41 ;Leh; tells of the Iriustipti," pretty, Thb,swfich It-ran thus: "It's , nigh onto. eleven. years; alr, since P Came on this roact. For the ffrst three years X" Was 'lsfileeki7 fatin,ltredif I had 'Wok t6'lt,;l,`,#4.lglit, have If I COPie 4.69neducPar by Who yOtwA, My character weep:KA:and, r ya, ways been. a steady man,: at YPti see it. wasn't to My old woman al, ways objected to me , rtiorting,on, the train, it ,kept me so much away from bBnie;' not to speßk of the'clabger; and at *he end'of the third year, when' oui , little boy was born; she begged so bards to give it up that I consented, and tlmi company put me in this, plac.e where I've been ever since. It's not hard, I've only got to tend one switch and'do Mid jobs about the depot, the pay is just the same as what I got before, only there's no chance for promotion,. but then I'm always at home, which makes it up. I live only a little way across the bridge, in the outskirts of the town, yonder, on the other side of the river—a small white house with au elm tree in the yard—you can see it from the °Wei...end of the switch. "So you think the river is very beau tiful at this season of the year? Well, sir, I dare say it, is. I thought so. once myself; but I 'don't take my pleashre in looking at it now, nor have I done so for many a day.' Ifs green banks and its clear water, with the sunshine' sparkling on it, only makes it seem the crueler to me, as if it laughed over the misery it had caused to human beings; but my opinions havn't gotanything fo do with what you come to ask me about so I'll try and get to the point at once. " It will be three yearecomeildundan the 13th of next month, WI/101/.ls May, that after eatin' my breakfast and smokin' my pipe, which latter opera tion I generally gits through' with about' seven o'clock, I started across the bridge, takin' with me my little boy Wilie, who was at this time just risiu o' five years. He was awfully tickled at the idea of bein' allowed to go 'out with me, as his mother kept him most ly around the house, havin' like nearly all women, great fear of the trains. .1 don't think, sir, I ever seen a finer naornin'—the sun well nigh up, but not too warm, with a white cloud here and there in the blue sky, the trees and grass green and fresh, and glistenin' with the dew, and underneath us the river flowin' bright and • clear, just as you see it now, sir. My heart felt light, and havin' nothin' on my mind—l had just finished payin' for my houSe the week before—l began to think on corn parire my troubles with my blessins'' that after all it would be hard to find a better place than this same much.abused world we live in. " The time-table was a little different then from what it is now. The freight train came down at 7:30 a. in., switched off, and waited for the express to go by, which followed in fifteen minutes later. I reached the switch about ten minutes ahead of time—l always do—and sittin' down on the tic, I filled a fresh pipe and smoked away, while little Willie gathered pebbles, and throwing 'em in the water, laughed and shouted at the splashes they made. Finally growin' bolder he ventured to the river's edge, and pluckin' one of the lilies that grew there in abundance, he came in'great glee and laid it at my feet. I put the flower carefully in my packet so as not to bruise it, intending •-• it trb his mother. e tinned out that pretty blue ones grew fu H rther down, and begged to go and get one of them ; but as it was almost time for the !rain, I refused my permission, and takingliim some ten or fifteen yards from the track, sat him down at the foot of a tree—the maple yonder—and bade him remain there till I called. The time for the train came and passed, and still no signs of it. •I grew nervous and did not notice my ,boy. , *Minute after minute passed away, and at last when I began to be certain that some accident had occurred it hove in sight just five minutes before the ex press was due, which I knew could not be more than two miles behind. I saw at once the causeof the delay ; the train was unusually long and heavy, and the engine number forty-two, which the firemen had christened" Old Hicketty," Was the worst on the road. The switch was all ready, but the train moved so slowly that the last car had hardly loft the main track, when I heard tile whistle of the express, and the next moment she rounded the bend at full speed. I knew that I didn't have any too.much time to get the switch in po sitiou, and want/Amy work with u will when suddenly I heard a child's scream, and turning round I saw little Wilde straggling in the water. Fortin instant tile sight of my child's danger overpow ered every other consideration and I sprang for the river, but before I got half the distance the hoarse whistle of the approaching train rang in my ear like a trumpet, and the thought of my duty, and the hundreds of lives that would be sacrificed if I deserted my post, went through my brain like a flash of lightning, While all the time there was a feeling about my heart I can't tell in so many words—l only knew it was worse than death—beseeching me to save my boy. " The whole thing couldn't have last ed more than two seconds, and how the one feeling got the better of the other I never knew. I have no recollection of turning back, but the next thing I re member I was at the switch working away like mad. I never had such strength. I felt that I could have wrenched up the solid iron rails in my agony, and bent them like straw; and I did not seem to see anything about me distinctly neither rails nor ties—but dimly and vaguely, as if In a dream, or at a great distance. What-did see as plainly as I do now, although it was be hind me, was the .clear and beautiful river flowing-on in the morning sun, and in the midst of it little 'Willie weak ly struggling foi help, while the hright, cruel waves smote him in the' face'and laughed. I had no ear for the nearing train, but all I heard—or seemed to, for I can't rightly say—were his cries to his father for help, growing fainter and fainter; and then the horrible bubbling sound, as he sank finally, and his last breath found its way to the surface. "At length the switch was in posi tion, and although it's a short job at best, and I must have accomplished ft at that time with a quickness I can never again equal, yet it seemed longer than the longest Summer's day.; but it 'wee dtaie; and I rushed to the river and gazed eagerly around for some sign' that might tell me where to plunge in to rescue my child; but there was nothing, nothing, but the sunlight that brightly on the little wavelets that smiled mockingly in My face 'as - they' hurried .onwards I lion't ren3einber any thing farther. .There Was agree*. ahok,.; ihgAtt my tluvat,A4uge l wAighl. of Aqui. teenqed to fall on nay, b'l.l.B""gin°'ailL7A bleak," When Came yse was' thtee weeke after Ward, with my' old Winaan---13od herl.isitting alOhiniido me , lieldite , my hand .its heia, re doptqr saltilhadroatle a close miss o it gut at grit I felt,Sbrry had qit"itll.;-btit 'that ' T dldn't . {akif long ? !foe knew there rid ,-she who sat ibesidelme4--who thee Std.,: feted more than I had and stood it nobly, 'So I tried to get better in order to con 'Aele her. ,It was two, weeks more before 'Lgoit Ord of hed; . atitt i qfilte'tWo ' Months beforeli was abletb - go-anindw I I-will never bathe. same man .agaiMo. i• A y,%''lM n ( MI PfLPY -rtßi9ne4 ,nttin Matt on twantme t t q cl i o anymore Wo all, " i t titt-Cduldn't bear tote idle- ou, see, eft; k Atquin't brought' tip , to , Jt kked ,strange as.it May appear. didn't feel hice.working anywhere save Int,the old, Place ; I seemed to be ,closer to my boy. •theiej found' he lily 116'1110 gatbibtee; last as I had placed it In .tripjlicket pbcket, and gave it to his.mother. She hail It yet all, withered and colorless, In 8.; }age glatisqn the Mantle Ptec43;:and 'ts re; remain hi sight or bo uhtil Mir. time oomee fr :.r, •.,, I,,j9p9B,Firig i to irfe TldNatillsr'raVreteit's Mestmoreland county, thatilkilled bushel of rata In fifteen minutes—seven ty-one rata in all. 74.1 "(I , ..ttii.v.l l 4f•ni— b iii 1.11 , 0 ~ 1 -0•.!: (,dl The 4Di-drier - er :ill: '<LW :Tturec mugs. ; , Slipped Out of IfietOrs4" - is the title of fl;fleSWllifiPer in 114 e ,Manah number of Tqmple ,Bar,devoted.to,the.life.' %UT. ildus Wry' of Marie .Tosephe S4e,' Mother of three:ll'llo, l =M great-grand-' mothet of the presentCoturt of Oh atte-: bind.. She:died, more than, a century ago—in 1737—and but for the patient explorations of dusty records by • dill- . gent Ilityasdnats, , such as. the- English magazine Writer; thcrtfentoiies het' lifettindllie incidents Other time like, thbse'of nosily other,' notible i peisctia; ; w.6441„1ie- , iitterly forgotten; „, JeSeplis leiV her fatherle.Court at ; _Dies-. Oh Jul Sainiary, in 1748, to wed the DaUpbin of , France. The bride. was. met at the frontier—says our gossipping chronicler—by the Duchess de -Braticas and' her!ntdoe, the Duchess de LaraJ musfsptwo boomen of the noblest birth . and, most - ignoble character. At the head Hf 'the Princess' French house hold they stripped her of her' Polish' costume and turned away her' Polish attondenta---for. she came more as -the daughter of thcliing of Poland than of the. Elector of Saxony; and then, as if to steal her for life to her new destiny, the-elder .Dnobess presented her with the fat Dauphin's portrait, which the younger Duchess took from her and t as toned to her right hand. From that moment Marie Josephe ceased to be of Saxony, and began her career as Dau phine of France. On the following night, the illustri, ous company were supping at Naugle, when a courier arrived with a letter from the Dauphine to the Duchess.— The lady, feeling sure that It contained sonic- gallant compliment to the Prio cesg, handed her the missive, and pray-, ed her to open it. Marie Josephe, took, opened, and read the letter. As she read her color heightened, her eyes filled with tears, and • then, dropping the pa per, she withdrew, in manifest trouble to her chamber. The ladies looked at each other , in bewilderment, and the Duchess took tip the document which was' addresSed to her, and read it aloud. It solely Of an assurance from the, sentimental, fat young Prince, of bra uninterrupted affection for his first wife, whom alone he had loved, and that he did not care to love any other! " How very polite I" exclaimed the scandalized luster-hood. Next 'day all traces of tears had disappeared' from the Dauphine's eyes, for she had to meet the whole royal, family that day, near Cartel!, and she nerved herself, inexperienced girl as she was, for the purpose, as well as for her own particular object. and to subdue the uncivil Prince whom she was about to have inflicted on her as her husband. At this interview, King, Queen and Princesses were overcome with the ecatacy of their affection for the charming stranger. The young Dauphin was there, too, but that un happy fat boy stood apart, staring at his . bride with all the might of his lack lustre eyes. It was the richest of "gen teel comedy" to see how the, youthful Dauphine allured her glittering Cymon to approach her, how she beat down his fixed gazing at her by an honest and quiet glance which she now and then directed at him. When she had won him to her side, and had stimulated him into frank and joyous conversation the delighted ,Louis XV laughed out right and the whole court followed his example as closely as etiquette would allow. She was really perfect in her way. Her wit seemed to brighten and. sharpen and manifest itself the more and more, as it seemed the more In peril. At Versailles the young Dauphine led hershard blameless life with a wit and a wisdom that warranted the solidity of her judgment as well as the sedate cheerfulness of her heart. She was wary to avoid all the pitfalls which court in trigue dug for her. She affected to be happy so naturally, that people envied 1/Pr in) their „b„, seemed live in tile sunshine, and vainly endeavored to draw her husband out of the cold shade of his indifference, she wrote notes to her brother in Dres den, beginning with an outpouring of thanks that he had not forgotten his "poor papa," and ending with "yours to the very grave, whither I am fast speed ing." But a print* was born in Septem ber, 1751, and the rejoicings consequent upon' that event were universal and hearty. The most curious incident con nected With the ceremonies In honor of this birth was that,of the six hundred marriages of any Parisian couples of lovers who wanted dress, dowry and everything else justifying marriage.— There was great difficulty in finding pairs to match, and there was running about in search of candidates. Five hundred francs formed the allurement to bring couples together who had no other bond. Of that sum, sixty-nine francs wore to be deducted for cost of wedding dinner, carriages and minor expenses ; but the city found the bride in shoes, stocking, caps, gloves, bouquets, body and table linen, and silk and other dresses of homely material.— Paris also decked We outer man of all the bridegrooms. The wedding day was 'ushered in by firing of can non. • The weddings took place at the same hour, In divers parish churches. The wedding feasts were held In sonic of the best rooms that could be hired for the occasion. The priests attended not as guests, but to wait upon the bride groom and a little to keep order. Fi nally, there was a dance and an escort ing of the married pairs to their respec tive homes, amid all the jollity that the occasion required. Versailles, mean while, displayed a prodigality of costly grandeur that makes the imagination reel only to think of. Magnificence of dress was insisted on by the King ; and day after day ladles appeared In new dresses, the least splendid of which cost .C 8 a yard I Diamonds I Only Golconda could have matched them, The Dauphine never showed more irandeur of character than when her husband was seized with the loathsome and then common disease, the small pox. Dumoulin, the chief physician, insisted on bleeding him freely at the foot. " The Prince may die under it," he said ; " na will certainly die without it." This was said to Louis XV who replied, "then , let him be bled)' It was done, suppuration ensued, and the Dauphine looked hideous. Neither by persuasion nor force could his wife be kept from closely tending him. When the consequent peril was hinted, she an swered, "If aDauphine dies, you can easily get another; but the lost life of a Dauphin cannot be made good." "Besides;' she added, "I am, for the present, uo longer Dauphine—l am only an ordinary nurse.?' She had ten times the ,courage of the man over whom she watched so bravely and so tenderly. It was not etiquette to tell hint the nature of his complaint, nor did he want to be told; yet be had a fearful curiosity to know. And here comes a story of wifely love and - , One day he asked for the Gazette de a paper in which the nature of 'his malady and the bulletin of his health , Weresure to be printed. But—see what care was takenof the nerves ofprinces I a copy of the paper was printed, in an ticipation off, his request, in Which the Ugiy.quality.of his Malady was not al, idded to.. t3tlli hislsespicions rendered. him On another occasion he asked fdp,a,silVer ' . plate and a napkin. When titikkO*bre preseAted to htm he feebir,.P9l4ea, Of. gist Surface of the',l olate,,dad,,gar:ed, f.rito„kf, - as if. It were a niirrctrirox_wliiptaloNivoPrObably afraid' to as ,Asliis,roona. was dark, and. the 1 1 ,cortains of his,bed were drawn,. he was, l p tale to.distover any reflection of hie- 1 1 irvbridistiVer, I . flisisupreme tact wds b Wee IM.dlfitftstahle. 7tis at his', 4dotratWffle.if ife'dskbl theDauphind,who • i 0W404Y5.) 9 9# d ; roM t x tgio oI bALrqP.4rToAPewiafl#4 11 k. 4Ale4:llis . 810 0P9Whi brit lap:ft-4,4oszer ,Actu biz Where: was no , office, asked of, her which, : Ate was notodeintrto perform. with cheer , ulnees, , niore dr' lesslossuitiedr When h parientWhs , tfuttof del:ger and fairly' whom the' an donhdiAetit,', 'toads, kissed, not the g4tpbtho' Pu 7 4 . 'DU" nit° ;.t4P.eP YAk l 4l4: . • miC 9 13 Oa fie 1 . 1 11'r chW, dren In mein intaXtoy, and. sympathizing Parislans,remarked,,fthe foea may dis, tress Abl i kdophi,ne t Ant,*4l/owayln-, tereSts I State. ' - fade Wee ifons,Were 'the DRS' f COunts'Of ProViii4e , l:finrl- Ifirlois.ll These grilcoswerenftersvardslkxkown as. Lou is - , XV1t.,449 1 49 ,2 iY.4.419 13 .14 C'4949.6 Ma ?4..19q, , .tti pf p.idi 4 17611;113ft'lier al , WidbWiitttiehge of ithirtiatfuil'iMilms daysoafter , death she wrote to her brother Xavier a letter, which contained these words : ),, .-;,l,ilibli-itin.:961....6,1t11 , 1 , :ie1q it:- " - Trinia been of Ilisinttsitaf ahogld:aaitlivdhim-Sat whom I ha.v.e • gives is.ltbonaand Ayes.. „L amp, ikito s al* willeYllPe. , - 1 4) 8 4 r t e thAg nib employ rest t" nix, pilgrimage, In breimaitig icayself, by rep‘ntance,"t'd rejoih Ailiy husbsfivi'd heal/6; synereA dal:Kt-doubt tha_t fiey.lipputtingl np tbe name prayer for ai times t4lolved her. Wieland to ttt . grave. Her nl'lll'46ll 'petiblied'Oti . : the 'nefltient ttib °stint et Chamberdl:( Henry l v)lhos been lettay•Yettroi a, Wanderer.) ';lPbwrP4lAwittlrin l2 o., 4 1 4t1Y. 3151 1 5 fondly hoping rev yet be Fa.-, abled to platit'ttib'llbefrbbn' lilles a th` in that Prance-where every thing alp pens and notblag.hestell On bwes ernrglnia. Renitnismzileq!floNr.flui Olden Tiadk Tradition Arifon p # , that the timt white adventurer who Made his home on Iloistoli; 1 ; 4" the'name'd St. Clair, an Englishmani who. had in gratiated himself with the erected his cabin near. when the old Church stands at St. Clair's Bottom. At what period be fixed his home there is not known, but it is supposed to have been anterior toB it 'raddocs defeat, • Between the years .1754 and 1760,:an enterprising gentleman by the name of Patton made his way westward of the line of civilization, and appeared on the head waters of the Holston. He 'was' accompanied by three relatives, two by the name of Buchanan, and one by the, name of Campbell, besides some two or three other persons. From Mr. Patton and the three others lamed, sprang the' families who first peopled this end of tbeState. The Buchautuas intermarried with the family of Patton and Campbell was the father of Gen. Wm. Campbell, of Ring's Mountain memory. 'Froth these sprang the Prestuns, Floyds and Thompsous, who subsequently, owned; the Salt-works, a large portion of Burks' Garden, and all that magnificent bound. ary Including the Seven-Mile Ford and . the estate of Mr. Jas. M. Byars and all the intermediate lands., Mr. Patton and his associates came with Compass and chain, for the pur pose of spying out the land, and survey ing and locating such portions as prom ised to become tinu@ually valuable in the future. Somewhere in the vicinity o what is now known as Seven-MileYord they met with St. Clair, a white man in Indian garb, on a hunting expedition. Surprised to find a white man where they supposed themselves the first of the race who had ventured thus far beyond the limit of civilization, Mr. Patton queStioned him as to his knowledge of the topography of the country, and was surprised as well as gratified to find him a man of more than ordinary intelli gence, an experienced woodsman, and familiar with all the country between the Apalachian and Cumberland moun tains. Mr. Patton proposed to employ him not only as a guide, but as a kind of protection against the violence of In dians, provided they should meet with them during their stay upon this, one of their favorite hunting-grounds. St. Clair informed him that to survey the lands would be a dabgerous business, and might forfeit the lives of the whole company, but that he would show him the choicest sections and guarantee his safety, on condition that, after he should have located such boundaries as he rciightdesire, he would survey and locate a certain boundary for him ( St. Clair ), which he would show him. The agree ment being settled, Mr. Patton surveyed and took possession of the large bound ary where they were then standing, in cluding the magnificent estates above referred to. They then proceeded to the " Lick," where the Salt-works are•now situated, and where the Indians had been mak ing salt from seeps from time immemo rial, near the present residence of Mr, Palmer, the whole of that beautiful and rich alluvial bottoli being then a lake. veyed and located. They then proceed ed up the North Fork, and appropriated all that valuable land in the inch Val ley comprising the eetate of Captain Charles Taylor, and others adjacent.— This, it might be thought, should' have satiated the most extravagant covetous ness for the acquisition of lands, but Mr. Patton was still desirous of secur- ing more, when they crossed what are known as Plat Top and Clinch Moun tains, and laid their chains upon that immense and val uable blue-grass bound ary known as the Cove, and now, in pos session or the Bowen:4, Barnes and others. Partially satisfied for the time being, and Winter warning them of its ap mach, Mr. Patton proposed that they should return to the Valley of Holston, and survey and locate for St. Clair the boundary lie had reserved for himself. 'they retraced their way baoicauross the mountains, to the South Pork, where St. Clair pointed out the coveted bound ary, which Included all the land along the river, espetially on the south side, which Is now Ictiown as St. Clalr's Bot- tom, then covered with splendid tim• bqr, interspersed with tall and luxuri ant patches of cane. Home years subsequent to this, Mr. Patton met In his rambles ;the pioneer Burk, who revealed to him the discove ry ho had made of that- magnificent body of land now known as Burke Garden. From the description given him, Mr. Patton was captivated, and proposed to the discoverer if he would show it to him, and if it proved to be half as valuable as represented, he would be at all the expense of surveying, plat ting and entering it, and lay off such portion for him as he might desire.— Thia arrangement was entered into, but the whole of the Garden, the arable por- tion of which comprises some 60,000 acres, eventually came into Mr. Pat ton's possession, was inherited by a grandson and squandered in dissipation by the possessor, who died at al years of age. One thousand acres ,In that Garden is now a fortune for a man of moderate desires. Mr. Patton thus se cured all the finest lands on the prin cipal sources of the broad and beautiful Tennessee, and yet, although the third generation has not passed away, scarce ly an acre of his vast and splendid do lnain Is in Tossessibn of his descend ants.—Abington Virginian. Statistics of brink, The Second Anntial Report of the State Hoard of Health of Massachusetts has some curious statements concerning liquor consumed abroad, and its effects on crime, health and, prosperity. It Is said that in Italy every man drinks wine and some drink foreign wines, brandy, rum' and beer; but intemper ance is not a prominent evil. Con sul Rose, of Ancona, Italy,•says that cr.me committed under the influence of ' liquor Is unknown there. Mr. Tuckerman, of AtheilS, Greede',' 'saye that ill that city. containing 50,000 in habitants, only 42 deaths . had , been. oc casioned In tea years ,1)y strong drink. Intemperance is very, rare in that Greece. In Switzerland they drink beer and wine, but no treulde•arii&3 from it:, The finest men come from the. wine cantons. The ,peasants drink, schnapps and,potato brandy, and this ea cause trouble., Fecially when., the poor dna& get enough' food. Mr. liafictOft stateEPthat the. ealth and prosperity-of the people are not Injured. oy beer and ) 3 ,.hnaPPS. At j Pretaga wino ,aral beer ene7s percent.'cif the erimette traced to h&d'drinkirigi endTstek the 52 crini, duals in.thetprtsbnwereeil.harddrinkerai In, ;4.081 leari*ey, w,ine, and. beer are _ 'WO consumed., Tho powder 'drink tilakYY,' and' almost'alt-the . 'Oime of the , CoUn try i 'Charged , riporr 41. I 1868 , 70,000rpersops , were arreated for grealteriness..,:-Nne •Masunap.tlOXL inks Ap3o,l3l4gallons9f dornestie spirits, and, ,$25,295 gallons of 'foreign' spirits, With . 11298,n3 gallons of beer and'1,5.48,219 barrels of wine, coating in all ($40,- , or,, „en. average,_. of ..$47.0 , for every family. pot England and SCOOtairen'oTakter.The'cbtistiMPtion Of these' two nations 1tC1E439 -WM 15,151,4 , 741:gallons of-.foreign. wine; :29,407,499 gailtua*.Of spirit*, eudfrAo.s.3 9 5 9ga 114 ru 8: of ale and neer. „cidSr, r ts,.6o., targoy,, Usedi'bitt no return is given of the:quail titY: 'Tlire'e-fotirttis bi nli,tlie'6iinie Gretitgritaineapiltlgs frorirdiritrkq '.the nithOrlandsolv,ttestilarge,tplarltkaeal of ge apps AR4,43l4,,ffMl,C9AlautFicP6 fifteen-s teenths, of the. ,cidin6s biace4l eat' iii4.Yl,l4llYdb.'' At:Cid Stoattedit r and whisity artulattrtinisedc , the.latter, Article is 6014,40.8(vet.044,4,611.1.1, 4akit .;°*°T..tifl494„tt4eerSCltYths.••°L ,YR4, me'. itch' given in othet ethmtries which are calculated, like the above, to astonish both sides of the tem perance question.; ~.1/.1;0 . 911; Az noir") zieftlaik fraziatee;/ "" iti4l4lo4Pliloglfireeflitirmingbani,Eirglsmdt at Green Lane, on the Coy,entry road, stands ilWrilling=honseltilown as he erettanincllerS reside: the &Mil* of , MY: • awlirealtily: peal-owner.. Mrs Irist ,great °fluency a t teW ye , spk.ulailiiinCbitt his rums than enouliti left to livnin ease'driti hi; EklidieYitwOtor mice miles ruither ,on, resides the:Finph family; *be are great friends bine ?Short' . sunk: .71'he eldest atrotdf I t Patterson id eggind3Ri-rlPl4lXiec; to eletss 4 iughri ter o nch. But Mr. Finn ottierr:airgliter, Miss FarrnY Fin IT — ritid' uatil'yesteidaY M.rJ Pattorrion: hetl urethra:l son, G.Sctrire r A.../,'atterson, aged !seventeen years:George and Fanny were. thrown mueh together-7' they 'plaied 'each 'other day, after day! George alwayriescort ,ed Fannyip her-rides aboutthe country, eh prinYblielt he saw her to and from school, did her truLtes Mr her, went M church 'with her; in fact grew up.with her, the original lutimacy of the tyro families hilving,of late years become greatly strengthened by Me approaching anion of their eldest Children. The consequence vas that. George and Fanny fell desperately in love, and began, to indulge in 'Childish castle -building about the astonishing things which they would do.whomthey ahould reach man's and :pro man's, estate. This coming to the oars of I the paternal Finch, ho wps greatly aston bsheci. Although disposed at first to ridP ole the,calf-love of the baby pair, succeed ing events made hitn.think it wall. to hold a conshitation with Father Patterson. The , result of. the Joint conference was that ' George was kept more at horde, and Fanny was rendered correspondingly disconsolate. George' was a wild boy, however, and•op position only served to make him more determined , held sweet converse ,with the lady of his choice. Fanny mot him half-way, and inetty 'clandestine confabs were held, at which innumerable vows of constancy were in Vtrastiged. It was mu tually resolved that all the maelduations which Cruel parents could devise should litot be able ta-part them. • After a while, vigilant leather Finch dis covered his daughter's disobedience, cud George was forbidden the house. Whether he and his ladylove received sound spank ings into the bargain there Is no means of determining. At any rate, the lover's pined Sivay in forced exile from each oth er's company, until, becoming desperate at last, young George contrived to obtain a final interview with Fanny, in which he told her that he had determined to start out In the world to seek his fortune. At, the and of seven years he was to,. cerne l limit richer Wan half a dozen 'Tammany Ind - :chine, and claim her as his bride in the face of a regiment of such ogres as both of them voted Father Finch to tab Fanny amid her tears protested that she would remain faithful to the lover whose heroism she looked up to In awe, and thus the nearly heart-broken twain parted for the last time on earth. George was but little over fifteen years of age. Ile ran away from home and shipped as a cabin-boy on ono of the steamers whiuli ply between Liverpool and the United states. On his return he wont to Ports mouth, and fell in with a gang of young rowdies, who got him drunk, and kept him so while his money lasted. Ho then took service in a drug store at that place, but soon becoming discontented, he shipped again and made two 'voyages across the Ocean. On his last trip about four months ago, and eighteen since the memorable last meeting with Fanny Finch, a benevo lentlady passenger to whom he related his story took pity on him, and advised him to remain in this country, whore he would have a better chance of realizing his boyish dreams of wealth. She took him to her own boarding house, 224 West Thirty-third street, And shortly afterward he was given a subordinate position in the drug store of George W. Fenner, 1,273 Broadway, at We munificent salary of $5 per week. George was a quiet, gentlemanly little fellow, whom everybody liked, and with whom the Sun reporter conversed, and spoke of him in the highest terms. Ile was industrious and regular in his habits, never touched liquor by reason of a vow which he made atter the affair at Portsmouth, and payed his Way' like a little man, always contriving to Mess neatly out of the scanty pittance which his board and washing lett him. Shortly after his arrival here, he wrote a letter to his parents informing them for the first time of his whereabouts. Re received an affectionate answer, urging him to return home, but his determination was made and he resolved to stick it out. . . icy ......••••1•••••.4 n ltd... 1m0... by .v."l , mail, and has always been answered promptly in return. His father never omitted to ask him to return home, where a life of ease and plenty awaited him. George also wrote regularly to Fanny, but without avail. He refused, however, to believe that young lady tickle, and ascribed her silence to the interference o; Father Finch whom ho regarded as the cause of all his troubles. Ile was very fond of talking about his ladylove to every body with whom he came In contact—of dilating' upon her personal beauty, her grace of manners, and her numerous ac complishments. The consequence was that he was nnmercifully chaffed by his fellow boarders and by the clerks in the drug store. tieing a sensitive little follow, this no doubt had its effect upon him, and, com bined with Fanny's silence and his slow progress itt getting rich, must have dis couraged him greatly, at times. In out ward appearance, however, ho was always cheerful and happy, and no ono suspected the cancer which was gnawing away at las reason within. On Thursday night he accompanied his room-mate to Wood's Museum, and sewn. cal to enjoy the porfornianeo amusingly. On Friday morning be went to his work 011 usual, anti a gentleman whom lie served with a glass of Vichy water about s o'clock Informed the den reporter that he was laughing and joking at an unusual rate, tihortly after noon the heal cleric noticed something strange in George's appearance, but thought nothing of It. Neither did he pay any attention when young Patterson exclaimed. Oh! I want to die, lam tired of lifer' George iminediatelylitopped behind the prescription counter and seizing a bottle of hydrocyanic acid, put it to has mouth. The bead clerk saw the liquid running down his chin, and springing upon him, knock ed the bottle out of his hand. tioorge ni ur inured twice, "Fanny I Fanny l." and dropped dead. Cororer Berman was notified and took charge of the body, which was removed about 6 o'clock by the Commissioners of Charities and Correction to the Morgue, to await the inquest and post mortem exami nation. The poor little fellow was entirely without (Honda in this country. Until the arrival of the dead wagon his body lay white and stiff where it fell. The Coroner broke open his trunk and took possession of all his letters and papers. Poor little George Patterson, when the doctors shall have got through cutting up his body, will probably Ilnd a last resting .lace In Potters Field. Coroner Herman .eld an imp:test last evening, wben a ver diet of auluide;by poisoning was rendered —N. Y. Sun. Jo Extrnortnnory Present from the lenblinse Porte—A New Carpet for the t== . The Sultan of Turkey, learning that it was the policy of the present administra tion of thle ; government to economize as m nod esPoesible In the expenditure of the public funds, and that the east parlor of the E xqcutive hiansion needed anew carpet to adorn the • flecir of the principal reception thorn of the President'S house r signitied his willingness, about a year since, to present to the.Unifed States a suitable covering for the deer of the East Room. The measure of the apartment was taken with great care, as it was givenout that loom s would have Cabe made expressly for the weaving of this ex trurhfilisary gift: .The President arrived to .day, and the old Axminster that. bas serv ed to deaden Abe sound of the feet of the, thothiatidte Of 'gueSts who' have trent pled trpon , It during the past six years was tak en up in a hurry and pitched unceremonl cndy out of the east window of the, parkir into' the grOunds surround loathe residence thli'Prealderito The Sultan's gift 'reattach borne into • the apartment,. unrolled , end instead of a. beautiful design, as was ex-. peeted, a 'yellow red' end White'striped• earpdt, with vine work,' hot unlike the crude designs discovered, ea ancient Egyptian ware, or, partespe.more correctly l tru a s k l u n th t i h n e s, fa w n taa as 4 1D tlru a l w g le f v a e in tt .monotonous tapestry fabricated by one Efendt. Zsde, of Con eitantiipiq. The , carpet is, badly sewed , together, thatched in a A6ien plebes; and' I when etreteliedistnd nailed down will pre sent to tbe-eye. inuMeemble Iserptultine l'iinee,Mterlydisitgaring the hithertoagree7 able;al6oe'aranbe of "the ttparnnent noloulaeoloOl heady antr.the +design, alto gether teo.eotoolon:for , J the .409qm/eye. of the principaLparlor of gu d executive man -4lon baba it cost the vnititrient noth ttd = Ing,d twit 'Would be sreepeatftil team. friends in the neighboattoodor. the potden Horn .n Horn accept li;the Sultan's preeent 'eorttlittie"to ' diatigure'the .E,xeentivelldanainti, It iteerveeno better Pur t :2lt.Nlit st , least serve - to *toy how , nincti apeople of Turkey need. the artis tic, or 'Antetidatt Turkey in' Working Alp their.' bxpensive a , 4 Her.. LI, 1., The Speaker of the Soiiili tkiediiiEilibidie . f of Reresentatives begirt - ether good thing Of it for himselpszid know/nail, about the ahrt4 I IO I •YifIFIVE tfilf49s Aiss€l9f-111 3 ,1kill• ;fired.,. Ele Rote i das,,and ao extra 1.01,004 for arg deeidon.}re is ali.o'lidintaiit-ffeh.) 1 014 isidweeklies s2,sod•saliryy*itti44ooo, tiderelaa amonttngeotdand,•wid424ooo - lon OP4o/Se_ser then ilithkii ilie:wsa al lio allow:' I 00544 YoVir•PcialmilAtlrp for 41 1 41. V 1 c9l 47,Mi 141 11 .144 • P I ..! OLL. • intim yr asa ary of. , .11. n a , ti. ~ i' elifilee ' 1,1 ii t' another, and his uncle is ' Ifid;' with a salary of $3,500. The census of his brothers-in law hasn't been taken yet. BATE Or. ADVZRTISINO. er tional sq =43A , 3r( )ht• /11, 7tl Jll, Ji 117 tiELlMrititeiuiffige=anaefuor. insertion: - .'o'.o ITT-IVY:MS ATLI A o , l'it :1 ~.. 1 , IRENanotTshAINARVaIpIS lAissits ^Line for the . k WV. 8.14 , ..400:9s past g4,putsiequent insor- H.:sidell..-s.nna odi ol g,„,0:[.. , . : ~.: 1 ElPixttsmlSbnetcsilnidrted-lar.LoOsi Column! , ;;Arik9ngliftainnswirro,..;:.r;i:,..., ~ * u“.l ,1 ,:7-1.1 . .. .10. , ~Narcon! , inarrlagea and Li, IV OATS r ins'fo Int Insertion, a 4.ritt. 6slll.s4ol , 4steirtubsonnent Insertion. 4.T . 41A10.24zi Lls7u4i. c i r . ”. ; .:, • • , rrraki4Mrs..'lMgalf.'!".....4,-" ' ,-.... 250 1. ".eurimildstrirtarenundow.: , a .... ...: . 2 60 Assignees' n0ticep5.,,,,L..5.....4.-..:-...... 2 60 Auditors' n0ti0e5....,..-__ - 2 00 Other "Notice ter ten ttno',• or INISI. ~.threetlitno4.....-------.... 150 Radlealltiriailaalii`North Carolina. ) 10 'a' I.ILO 0)11.:111 10 I IV *Fondly of Six Murdered In Cold Blood. 'And a Minuar BYtrormil to Coneael the '• Raxintetie,'N.' tt.',' May '2 1871.—The See • thief Of Li:l-day - hes Wcorre: spondence from Rutherford 'Ociiirt litontle,i•whleh gives the &Milt °tale Of theamteitherYible outrages . that-has i ever .shoeked.hnnian earn. The perpetrators of thedeed arelladkeda,though Vt.-Partakes of tile nature, of. En-.lflux out nigps. Six mauls wereorithout ajword of warning, ushered inn) oternity, and their sl4iiglitotek bridle:9 afterwards oottsumeti iii t the flames of their burying home. The ;outrage ocenried, In'hiorgen toWnablp, on eh° border of McDoweliconnty; and is as fbileWs:' SliaeWeston,a free negro before the war, has for many years been living with Polly Steadman,. ii white woman of loose cheese 'ter. Polly has or had four children, white, 'the .eldest .about fliarteen, the youngest nearly two years of ago. •. Silas arid * Polly lived peaceably together, and were in better eircumatimecia than moat of their class. Some time ago throe notor I ()us characters-Govanaud Columbus Adair and Dr. Bernard—were charged with the theft of a quantity of brandy and bound over at McDowell County Court. Silas had seen the thieves Carrying off the booty and wassubpronaed as'the principal witness for the prosecution. 'The Adairs threaten ed his life if he poached, but Slime express ed a determination to bring the rogues tee justice. What we now proceed to state is the sworn deposition of the woman, Polly $ toad man : 0/11 WOdnesday, awn In 4. April .2a; shortly after nightfall, while the family were preparing to retire to peaceful tepose, the dog. Kogan to bark vinleutty. rnoll,y, looking through the clinks lie wetm the logs, received a pistol bullet theeye: With a wild scream elle sprang back, and at that blatant the door was Lank - en down and in rushed tiovan Adair, Col 9 mbus Adair and Betmard; firing as they tame. Silas fell dead, with two balls in the holui. One of the assosstrui stood overt he children an they layhmen the iloor,ehoot lug theft through the- head like so many pigs. Polly etooped to creep under the bed, Out wasllung back., Then she began to light like a tigress. One of the butchers attack ed her with a knife. k'lnally, with live deep cute on the body, with her throat deeply gashed and a pistol shot through the dye, thls poor creature sank - to the floor ud was kicked into a pile of broom straw preparatory to. thogrand aute,skife. Meanwhile qvry voice in the family had teen stilled. 'Slit lifeicierbodies lay on the bloody floor-the old man on the hearth, the mother 'niggled in pieces on the Straw, rind the children in their night clothes, ly ing Where they fell—all had been jostled by code feet. The fiends contemplated their work, to make sure it had been dune thoroughlY, and prepared to hide their tracks. Piling up clothing, straw and oth er combustible matter they applied the match and then with an Ineffacable stain on their souls, fled away into the darkness. And now occurred what may well sound marvelous. l'olly Steadman, scorched by the flames, arouses herself, seizes her youngest child, who gives signs of life, and crawling towards the door, tries to drag out another child, but nature Mile and the body lies just outside the thresho ld; then with stmernatnml strength, Polly staggers the distance of half a mile to the residence of lire. Williams, and gives the alarm. It Is too late, Three bleached skeletons grin front the ashes, and a blistered corpse lay without the door. As soon as possible messenger. were dispatched for Sheriff Walker and for medical as ; but before either arrived Polly supposing herself in the last agony of death, emnly testified) against the murderers. Ste know them well; they wore her near neighbors,. and were not dis guised. bier testimony was so clear and positive it carried conviction to all who heard It. Accordingly 'Squire Hones promptly issued a warrant for the arrest of the suspected parties. They were found at home, one of them in bed, though late in the day. Sheriff Walker arrived shortly afterward, and conveyed the prisoners tee I this place, where they aro closely confined. lkonmentirtg on thin horrible affair, It is proper to state with emphasis that all the parties areof the lowest order of society, and that all of them, the slain and the slay ers, aro Radicals of the deepest dye. The, Adairs fur years have attended the polls for oh oilier purpose than to 'neither' intim i • date Censeryallve voters, So " trooly loll' were they, that even with murder In their hearts they sought to make the deed re dound for the benefit of their party. The Snlem Kldnnppinir Case—Foll Par Mt rn! BOSTON, May I.—The public mind is greatly exercised over the details of the kidnapping ease, the central figure of which is Mr. Thos. Earle, of„Worcester, a prominent merchant of that city,who was a member atria Legislature of 1570. About two years ago Mr. Earle was divorced from his wife. Their two children—a son and daughter—moved with Mr. Earle to Sa lem. The custody of the children was settled by the Supreme Court on Fri day last, when they were given to the mother. On Saturday, after learning of this decision, Mr. Earle, who is a very ex citable man, wont to Salem and had eclat, destine interview with the eon and dough ter, whose ages are respectively 12 and 13 yearn. BA Wu returned to Boston and states thin ho was here advised by eminent counsel to rescue his children from their mother, Proceeded to Charlestown curly on Sunday morning; he obtained a hack, took in hf r. Gifford, a relative of hie second wife, and went to Sulam, arriving there iti about 6 o'clock, Ile had an interview with Mr. Ives ,the mother's counnel,and arranged fur a meeting with his children by elating that ho wished to continuo to clothe and can u for than, and wished to ascertain their wants, Tho requerit was granted, and it meeting was to take place 111 the office of the lawyer and in his presence. Later 111 the day, Mr. Ives obtained Mrs. Earle's consent to the interview, and escorted the children to the office. On the way lie was not by Mr, Earle, who took his children by tho hands, and the four continued on their course. A moment after the carriage drove up, when Mr. Wlf ford Jumped out, and, seizing the little boy, attempted to carry 111 m to the hack, lido which Mr, Earle succeeded in getting whit hie daughter. An animated souffle 01311t1Oft, and calls were made for help by Mr. Ives, who, amid the confusion, reunited his hold on Mr. Gifford and the boy. In-the mean dela a crowd began to collect, and the father, seeing that It would bo useless to at tempt getting both of his children, drove rapidly away in:lthe direction of Boston, leaving his relative to bo captured and locked up by the Salem officers. The boy was then carried back to his mother. 7'llo police wore notified in Benton, and they bound the driver who officiated in the Salem raid, and through him ascertained that the party Was lett at the house of Mr. Gifford, Nu. 21 Concord street. They proceeded to Con cord street, and bad not boon in the vicini ty more than two minutes, when a close hack,caine down the street, and the officers separated and secreted , themselves in the door ways near by to await developments. The carriage stopped at the door of No. 21 and the single occupant alighted, telling the driver to go on as far as Bunker Hill street, and return. This was done, and in the mean time the doorbell' wee rang by the visitor, who entered; and returned with the little girl and two other men, ono of them being Mr, Earle. It was doubtless the intention to take the 8i train for Wor cester on the Boston and Albany road. The, officers rushed to the carriage and had quite an exciting struggle. The father Mitering the hack, took a seat by the side of Inedaughter, and theitwo companions occupied the other seat. When Me offi cers apProacheid,"Mr: Earle struck a heavy blow at offieer , Green, of Charlestown, who egeriPodia.lUry 04 :the head by dodging, and received a bad, contusion on the right shinilder. After two or three ineffectual atteuipts,lin which the offieerawere struck, the billy —quite a heavy ,one—was wrested frchu 24r. Earle's grasp, and, the doors be ing 'closed, the Mining Jr:untied' upon the box and droverapidly tothopolice station. It i lre. heart Tanpiing . scene occurred. •T e daughter, who has always lived witil the fatter;and *lto has not seen the 'Mather for nearly two years, naturally had a tenderness for the former, and clung ten aciously te,him u uthije Mr. -,Earle utterly refused to Ills grasp upon her, and ilintreffieers' were forted to . dreg the two frcim the carriage entwined in each others armsotad at last to throw Mr, Earle upon the floor and choke IBM to avoid more se riqus Bdttried in releasing his own child from her willing imprisondient in Ms arms. She screamed end moaned piteously, beg , ging to stay with bor father, but the stern depreesoflaitice had' ordered otherwise.— liter fatherwas placed in a cell, and the girl irfr,Ao Salem and restored to her jm ther. Enact wan held to ' ball in $13,000. Gi drd !MOO.' Thelek Pomeroy" AiILWAUKEE, May 3.—ln the circuit .court, yesterday, the divorce case of Anna qq ometoy.,Vtif Murk M. l'omeroy,.pub 'Usher Routeroy'e /)Sine'erae, came up. The tedtimony, ,Itaylug poylously been tgksn r 1i tiScre'Of Ursa granted and twO ' ittinbuy wmadiudg edi firlleki , ' et' doweo, - and ull. the other elederia The pilau!' SotiY , lsve by virtue of her rtiarrage , Ottls 'she :defendant. The plaintiff etas ,alsooati)edgedl the custody of one rtf,,thti daughters by alte.tnarrlage with Pomeroy. 1, ; ~ n ontat Canopus ti convenon. . clitsmnsnrorrwMayll 8....-The ;people. of ,theris,everreotsnty W the rititte ‘ hlive.thls ,Ivsle4thWt% gii)Ol i ng,isu2dl cb4an • ,deiegateo 417 T4xßatrqm.,f9ll 4 ol *. o 3 A L wh4t l aaaa.t.V4OoltfiroWn: diefice,A rarthO ' 'Conon' off this Convention - wilt be eliberate and conservative. The Conven tion'will probably favor minority represen tation.
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