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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
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fox vlast-iini Or rim. 'OOOll/3 0
blue Seines leaped up from the furnace,
lurid as the fiery tongues of a volcano.
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The Iring . and narrow r6of ISlbisd4c4er,
the 'sand-110' like 4 the"hlitcleNltiOBl .
abate in/fester Ibird.hcivering iii i llaff-eir.'
Under its shadowirrebpis'nf Men 'viral
but wavering, duskyligUensAilddenly,
as an , electric flash, 'a- 'daizlfturyellow
glare broke out, and a lierce,"ecorehing, ,
withering blast.swept froni , an 'opening
that seemed:the mouth: of hell itself.
Slowly/out iAthehurning cavern allies
ing stream dif xnfatejiJronearne creeping:
down. . 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.