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H. G. SMITH
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Voetrp._
LIVENING BRINGS ES HOJIE
I'm dreaming alone on an islet
In the they, nud murm'ring ben,
And the mug of Its rippling waters
Is melody sweet to me, •
It rose In rough Waves thin morning
That foamed upon Its breast,
lint a hush has fallen upon it,
Evening has brought tt. rest.
With white sales furled, the fishermen
back to the shore have uime,
They are resting now at their cabin doors
Evening has brought them borne.
Tile sea-birds' wings are tired at last
Of their flight acme+ the Ins in, •
They are folded now in her rocky nest
Evening has brought them borne.
I'm dreaming of my long Journey
Across this stormy world,
And to hour when my boat will anchor,
And its battered sails be furled.
Many a friend has gone from Me,
eery far away are Nolae.
But this 1011 , pm mica the tear-drop.
Beetling will bring them i 11...
Some may have perhaps fa . gotteu un
Ou the bottle-lidd of life,
But it hood utilLee our severed lo,arts.
We are partners lu the strife.
And some—tlu•lr hearts were ',lighted
la the eat ly dawn of clay.
Ph Ir city Is dark with tiortny c buds,
Lila is very cold and t.tray.
Others are very e.i”L and worn
In the hen. or Inanolay
They :111.n I h a ir lairnlng handx tail arc
1).! when will day lie done?
11• may eCl.ln your woary maning,
Thera are ztligeln at your side.
Wl, will lead you ~11411 this tirtuit,
the calm, vomi eveuti,ltt.
Perhaps I hey Imd ranee in SON , !,
Aerl.lllll% earl I, to roan.;
111,1 I.ltat. posed itwav forever
When evening In;oug tit them lenni
The erlinsoll'elotoollets lire glotyltiNt
Above the Neater's toro , ttst,
t hoer the ripples there Is to. Ilse
Of goal,l float h•utl.s, to. rest.
The west. getK re Ider And redder
The whathlll , are very , long,
The Lime ftle K 1.111115., I. comm,.
And the hour sir evensong.
I.IIVeIY Mid fair is till' 111,1'111MA
Itrlght in End's giorhms nun;.
Itotweaty spirits rest et eve.
%%lieu the Ignig, low; tiny is ;pm,
tee , ft
itlisrcllanrotts
The Three Mashed Men
" Yonder'," tile village, Burin," says:
my driver, pointing to a few spots of
light that twinkle along the darkening
sky-line; " and we'll he there in an
other quarter of an hour, if it plea.se
Heaven. Lucky for us that it s not
Winter-time, or we'd have the "gray
coats" (wolves) at our heels before we
got' i n ."
`Are there nary of them about here
in Winter'."' tisketl 1.
" Alany of them A great ileat too
many. Why; it was only last Winter,"
lie goes on, with a genuinely Russian
love of frightening himself and other
people, " Unit a sledge came into the
village, which had been attacked by
wolves close to where we are 'now, on a
dark windy evening just like this one;
and they gobbled up the driver and the
horses, and everything but the sledge
itself and that was a good deal scratch
ed."
. .
" But if they ale up the horses. how
did the sledge get to the village ..'
" Ah, Burin !" answers the old rogue
with a chuckle, " thtit's'not my affair."
Our day's work lots been a long and
hard one, us may be seen lay the amok- 1
lug flanks and quivering nostrils of our
horses, and the country through which
we have passed is not such as one loves
to linger over. Picturesqueness, in the 1.
ordinary sense of the word, is sadly
wanting to Russian power. All her
best scenery is to be found lu regions: ‘ l
Lately wrested front other powers—Fin
land, the Caucasus, the Crimea. Nor
is the monotony of her boundless plains ' 1
diversified by that abundance of life
which relieves the flatness of Holland :I
and the Netherlands. :Siberia is peo
pled at the rate of one inhabitant to
three square miles. The vast prairies
of Central Russia are little if at all more
populous.
The new railway from Kiev to Balta
runs for at least half its length through
a chaos of uncleaned forest. The banks
of the Volga, for leagues together, are
silent and desolate as those of the AMA
non. Along the Whole course of the
Lower Don, from Kalatch to within A
feiv hours' sail of Rostov, there is not a
single town—hardly even a village
worthyldling such—to break the mon
otony-of the voiceless solitudes through
which it flows. And even upon the
famous " black soil " every spadeful of
which Is worth a living's ransom, one
may travel for days without seei , g nt
human ha.dtation except,a stray liquor ,
shop, or meeting a human being except
an Occasional robber.
And yet, to those who can appreciate
it, few sights are inure impressive than
what the Russians expressively call
" the bad steppe"—a limitless waste of
desolate gray moorland without warmth,
,without coloring. without life, like the
corpse of nature In her winding-sheet.
Nothing which itnaglnation lots con
velved can equal the weird loneliness of
this everlasting desert. . The sea is of
one color, but it lots boundless life and
'notion. The great plain of the Dnie
per, though lacking life and motion, has
all the glories of earthly coloring hi Its
measureless wealth of flowers. 'the
very deserts of Arabia, grim and bar
ren though they may be, have a kind
of delusive animation In the dizzy WM
purgls-dance of their wind-tossed sands.
But in the dreary wastes of Eastern
Russia, all these are wholly wanting.—
The bad steppe has no dimpling surface,
no varied coloring, 110 Waving grass, no
tossing sands to break the endless level
--nothing but a•tremendous passivity,
eloquent in its terrible silence, against
whose gigantic inaction ail the energies
of man are as nothing; a gray, unend
ing waste, wrapped in a sinister and
deadly stillness, like some forgotten
'world blasted by the tire of heaven ere
time began, and still bearing, through
endless ages, the brand of gloomy and
irrevocable desolation.
t is, therefore, not without a feeling
of natural relief that I turn toy back
upon OM great waste that ihlrkl2ll,l slow
ly around us, and watch the lights of
the village coming nearer and nearer,
till aL length we scurry into the single
street, which it possesses, taint ost de
serted at this hour, through fear Of the
' Dornovoi,") and halt in front ora long,
low, substantial-looking cottage—the
abode of the "starosta," or head man of
the village, with whom we propose to
take up our quarters i'or the night.—
There Is no lack of hospitality about the
Russian peasants, and utmost before my
driver can explain who we are, 1 find
myself seized by both hands and drag
ged into the house, my dusty coat and
boots palled off, and myself seated in
the place of honor beside the , immense
stove, with a brimming tumbler of tea
in front of me; while the driver, a little
further off, lights his pipe with a com
placent air, as if he took to himself some
credit for my being there at all.
While sipping my tea and munching
the black bread wherewith my host's
wife, a stout, fresh-looking woman of
live-and-thirty, supplies we ad libdam
1 glance round the room, Which is
merely an enlarged and ornamented
copy of what I have seen in every
hamlet on my road. The heavy cross
beams of the roof, the rough
hewn chairs and tables, the huge tea
urn—the gilt-edged picture of a saint in
the far corner, with a small lamp burn
ing before it—the enormous stove, on
the broad, Hat top of which my enter
tainers are wont to sleep in Winter—
the broad clumsy bed with its patch
work coverlet, are all there. And
there, too, on the opposite side of the
room, is the huge painted chest, barred
and banded with iron, which is the
Russian peasant's pride and glory, iu
which he , keeps his Sunday clothes,
uud whatever valuables he may possess,
and-upon the painting and decorating
of which he often- expends a sum
which it must have cost him many a
hard day's work And many a supper
lease night to raise.
But even in their first hasty survey of
the surroundings, my eyes have time to
remark one object, which Is the very
last that one would expect to find under
the roof of a Russian peasant, whose
sole weapon is usually the short ax with
which he chops his firewood, puts to
gether his furniture,
builds his log-hut,
and occasionally splits the head.of his
wife or father. Just opposite where I
sit, hanging upon a null in the wall, is
a large pistbl, evidently unused for a
considerable time, to Judge by the rust
which covers It. Our friend the staros
ta, following the direction of my glance,
gives a significant chuckle.
" There's something to look at, Bar
in,"; Says he, nodding in the direction
o , ''''.* I,4*Ota
VOLUME 72
of the weapon. " You don't often see
those toys in our shops, do you 7"
- "Well, indeed, brother, it's hardly the
sort of thing one would expect to see so
far away from town. Do..you keep it
to shoot the `tarakaris' (cockroaches)
with ?"
My host gives a hoarse bellowing
laugh, at this not very brilliant joke,
echoed by the shriller treble of his wife;
and crossing the room takes down the
pistol from its perch, and lays it on the
table. Some letters branded into the
stock catch my eye, and holding it up
to the light, I read. "April 1-1,1869." I
look inquiringly at my entertainer for
the answer to this enigma.
"I wrote that," says he, with the air
of a Coriolanus. "Alone I did It. I can
write, and read, too, or I shouldn't be
starosto now. All ! the first time I wrote
my own name, I felt as grand as Ilia
Murometz !"
The worthy starosta's enthusiasm
somewhat tiles my gravity, "though I
had already seen the same thing once
and again during my travels in the in
terior. The Russian peasant's reverence
for the power of "talking by making
marks in a book" is almost superstitious;
and .1 recollect being considerably
amused at overhearing a rough-hewn
fellow, with whom I had lodged in' one
of the remoter ( villages, after reciting, to
an attentive circle, my feats iu walking,
running, climbing and leaping, wind up
with : "And he know show ,o write ! '
" That was the day that I got this pis
tol," pursues my Amphitryon ; "and
good service he did me that day. If it
hadn't been for him, I should have lost
a good handful of motley, and may lisp
my life into the bargain!"
Ali; how did that happen?" ask I.
"This is just the time for a good story ;
suppose you tell me all about it before 1
turn in.
Nothing loth, my heat knocks the
IlAil, , MO. Of his pipe, recharges it, and
,-bearing his throat vigorously, begins
i as follows :, "You must, know, then,
'
Maria, that, I had a collsill, Vasilli Mas
i lelr by name, who instead of sticking
to the village, as I did, was for getting
away to one of the great tow tie, think
ing to push his way there, and pick up
money as you would gather mushrooms
in the wood. And sure enough one day
he went oft' to Moscow ; and after a
time, I got word that he had managed
to find work In one of the big German
shops on the Kouznetski Most,(he was a
' famous hand ati wood-carving and such
like,) ant that he was getting on Pretty
well ; for as our proverb says, ' lleaven
hello the helpful man,' and Vasilli was
always one to stand on his own feet.—
And after that 1 had no news of him
for a long time, and was beginning to
forget all about him, when, all of a sud
den, there comes to me one day a pack
age of bank notes, and a letter with
them saying that Vasilli was dead,
(may lie gain the kingdom of heaven!)
and had left me all the money lie had
saved—some two thousand roubles or so
(about £110,) which was a great wind
fall to a poor fellow like me."
" You should just have seen him that
day, Burin,"
chimes in, laughing, the
lady of the house. who had just finished
her preparations for my further accom
modation. " When he opened the pack
et and saw the notes, he started about
him like a dog that's lost his muster;
and all the rest of the day he went about
as if lie didn't know where he was."
" Well, you needn't laugh at me, Vas
sillissa," retorts her husband, with a
broad grin ; "you kept on counting the
notes yourself for an hour and more, and
never counted 'em right after all," nd
the two laugh in lusty chorus. " ou
may be sure, Bari n," he continues, t ril
ing to me, " that I wasn't long in invit
ing my iriends to come iind rejoice with
me over the good luck that God had
sent ; and by seven ill the evening I had
all ready for 'em—the tea-uric boiling,
the black bread and bacon laid out, a
'dish of salted cucumbers, and a half
gallon of ' vodka ' (corn -brandy) into
the bargain. Just as I'd finished laying
out tile table (my wife had gone out to
buy some sausage), there came a knoCk
at the door. Thinks I : "fliers are my
guests come already ; ' and I went to let
'em in. But when I opened the door,
(heaven preserve us!) what should I see
but three men in black masks, and the
foremost of 'em with a pistol in his hand
—this very same pistol that's lying on
the table now."
" Ohp 1 that pistol's a trophy taken
from the enemy, then," remark I.—
""Fhis begins to get interesting. Go on,
ra "
p y.
" I'm not going to say I wasn't fright
ened," pursues 'the starosta. "I was
frightened, end very badly frightened,
too, I can tell you. But before I could
say a word, the foremost blackguard
claps his hand on my shoulder and says
to me, in a voice that sounded as if it
carne down a chimney, 'Hand over that
money you got this morning; quick, or
I will send you where you - won't come
back again;' and I heard the pistol
click as he cocked It. Well, as you
know, 'When needs must, there's no
time for brewing beer,' so I went to the
big chest yonder, and out with the bank
notes; but in handing them out I man
aged to tuck two or three of them Into
my sleeve. The rogue , counted them,
twice over, and shook his head.
" This won't do," says he, catching
me by the collar. "We know exactly
how much you got this morning, and
we mean to have it all; so, out with
what you've hidden, or it'll be the
worse for you."
'' Then all at once a thought came into
my head, just as if somebody had whis
pered it to me; and I shook the bank
notes out of toy sleeve on to the floor,
so that they all flew this way and that
way. The rogue, fearing, no ! doubt,
thatsome of ',Lem might get lost, pim need
upon them to pick 'eni up, putting down
his pistol, just as I thought lie would.
But the minute he loosened hold of it I
snatched it up and shot him dead.ou the
spot."
My driver gives a knarse, chuckling
laugh of intense enjoyment ; while the
starosta paused for a moment, in order
to heighten the effect of his last sen
tence, handles he captured pistol with a
belligerent air.
"Well done," put in I: "you tricked
him very nicely. But what did the
'Hier two fellows do? Ran away I sup
aise ?" • . .
"You may say that," replies the nar
rator, with a broader grill than ever ;
"they were gone almost before I could
turn round. Well, when I found my
self safe again, and the field clear, I felt
so darned that I almost thought I should
have fainted ; but I knew that there was
more to be done yet, so I dipped my
hand in a pan of water, to clear in a bit,
lucked up the house, put the key in my
pocket, and away as hard as I could go to
the 'kvartaln strict pol ice inspector.)
But when I got there he was not at
home. They said he had gone out more
than an hour before, and hadn't 'come
back yet; so there was nothing for it
but to go on the next station, across the
river yonder, and tell the kvartalni
there. The minute he heard what had
happened, he claps on his coat calls
' three or four of his men, and away we
alt went back to my hut where we found
the dead fellow lying on the floor just as
I had left him. The kvartalni's men
pulled oil hits mask ; and who should
this be but the police inspector I had
been looking for! And the other two
robbers, as I found out afterward, were
the village postmaster and the priest.—
And now, Barin, here's your place
ready for you ; and may heaven send
you a good night's rest !"—Chambers'
Journal.
A Mississippi ice factory turns out
three thousand pounds daily.
A barrel of flour produces two hun
dred and sixty-se3len ten cent loaves.
An overdose of soothing syrup quieted
an Indianapolis baby last week.
A special election for Congressmen is
now being held In Texas.
Professor Marsh, with his Yale ex
ploring party, is at Suit Lake City.
Rev. John M. Gordon, a widely
known Presbyterian clergyman of
Chicago, died on Thursday last at St.
Louis, Michigan, from paralysis.
The money-order system has become
an International institution. It was in
augurated at the Post-of - lice in New
York city yesterday.
The excursion trains to Atlantic City
during last season carried 51,820 passen
gers. Two children are rated as one pas
senger, and, therefore, the total number
of excursionlits must have been nearly
65,000.
The gales which recently destroyed
so muon shipping on the English and
Irish shores have extended their area of
devastation to the continent, where tel
egraph lines, crops, vineyards, &0.,
have been injured by them.
The Death'of Nero
Most of our readers are more or less
familiar with the character of the Roman
Emperor Nero, and with the persecu
tions the Christians suffered under his
reign. A graphic description of tke suf
fering
to which the Christians were ex
posed by this merciless despot would
but harrow the feelings of the reader.
Demoniac ingenuity was employed in
inflicting the most revolting and terrible
torture. The victims were so disguised
by being sewed up in the skins of wild
beasts, or wrapped up in tarred sheets,
to be set on fire as torches to illuminate
the gardens of Nero, that they were de
prived of all sympathy, and exposed on
ly to the derision of the brutal mob.
'render Christian maidens passed
through ordeals of exposure, suffering
and death too dreadful for us in these
.modern days even to contemplate. The
divine support which Christ promised
his disciples in these predicted hours of
persecution sustained them.
One night Nero, dressed in women's
clothes, was in one of the palaces of
Rome, surrounded by his boon compan
ions, male and female, indulging in the
most loathsome orgies, when a great
uproar wag heard in the streets. A
messenger was sent to ascertain the
cause. He returned with the appalling
tidings that Gralba, at the head of an
avenging army, was marching rapidly
upon Home; that insurrection had
broken out in the streets, and that a
countless mob, breathing threatening
and . slrughter, were surging toward the
palace.
Th e wretched tyrant, as cowardly as
he was infamous, was struck with dis
may. Be sprang from the table so sud
denly as to overturn it, dashing the
most costly vases in fragments on the
ti or, Beating his forehead like a mad
man, he cried, " I am ruined ! I sin ru
ined!" and called for a cup of poison.
Suicide was the common resort in those
days, of the cowardly in the hours of
wretched nese. Nero took the poisoned
cup, but dare not drink it. He called
for a dagger, •examined its polished
point, but had not sufficient nerve to
press that to his heart. He then rush
ed from the palace, in his woman's
garb, and with his long hair fluttering
in the wind. Thus disguised, he almost
flew through the dark and narrow
streets, intending to plunge into the
Tiber. When he reached the bank and
gazed upon Its gloomy waves, again his
courage failed. '
Several of his companions had accom
panied him. One of them suggested
that, he strould flee to a county seat,
about three miles from Rome, and there
conceal himself. Insane with terror,
bareheaded, in his shameful garb, he
covered his face with his handkerchief,
leaped upon a horse, and succeeded,
through the thousand perils, in gaining
his retreat Just before he reached the
villa, some alarm so frightened him that
he leaped from his horse, and plunged
into a thicket by the roadside. Through
briers and thorns, with torn clothes and
lacerated flesh, he reached the insecure
asylum he bought.
In the meantime, the Roman Senate
had hurriedly assembled. Emboldened
by the insurrection, and by the approach
of Gulba, they passed a decree declaring
Nero to be the enemy of his country, and
dooming him to death, more majorum—
that is, .according to ancient custom.
Some one of Nero's companions brought
loin the tidings ,in his biding-place.
Pallid and trembling, he inquired,"And
what is death more mujorum 1" The ap
palling reply was : "It is to be stripped,
naked, to have the head fastened in a
pillory, and be scourged to death !"
The monster who had amused him
self in witnessing the torture of others
recoiled with horror from the dreadful
affliction. Seizing a dagger, he again
endeavored to nerve himself to plunge
it into his heart. A prick from the sharp
point was all he could summon resolu
tion to inflict. He threw the dagger
aside and groaned in terror. He then
strove to talk himself into courage.
" Ought Nero," said he, "to be afraid?
Shall the Emperor be a coward ? No!
Let'me die courageously !"
Again he grasped the dagger, anxious
ly examined its keen edge, and again he
threw it aside with a groan of despair.
Just then the clatter of horsemen was
heard, and a party of dragoons wasseen
approaching. Ills retreat was discov
ered, and in a few tnoments Nero would
he helpless in the hands of his enemies.
Then there would be no possible escape
from the ignominious and agonizing
death. In the delirium of despair he
ordered a freedman to hold a sharp
sword so that he might throw himself
violently against it. He thus succeeded
in severing the juglar vein, and his life
blood spouted forth. As he sank upon
the ground the soldiers came up. He
looked at them with a malignant scowl,
and saying, " You're too late!" died.
Thus perished this monster of depravi
ty. It is said that this event took place
on the 19th of June, A. D., 61. Many
Christians at the time supposed Nero to
be the anti-Christ. The wretch had
reigned thirteen years. and died in the
thirty-Second year of his age. In view
I of his career, the only solution upon
which the mind can repose is found in
the declaration of scripture: "After
death comes the judgment."
These events occurred eighteen hun
dred years ago. During the long and
weary centuries which have since elaps
ed, what a spectacle has this world
almost constantly presented to the eye
of Cod. The billows of war have with
scarcely any intermission surged over
the nations, consigning countless mil
lions to bloody graves. Pestilence and
famine have ever followed in the train
of armies, creating an amount of misery
which no human arithmetic can gunge.
Slavery, intemperance, domestic dis
cord, ungovernable passions, the tyran
ny of kings, the oppression of the rich
and powerful, and the countless forms
in which man has• trampled upon his
feebler brother man, have made this
world indeed a vale of tears. The stu
dent uf history is appalled in 'view of
the woes which, during century after
century, man has visited upon his fel
low-man.
The Lisping Officer.
A good story has been told of a lisping
officer having been victimized by a broth
er officer, who was noted for his cool de
liberation and strong nerves, and his
getting square with him in the Mowing
manner :
The cool joker, the captain, was al
ways quizzing the lisping ollicer for his
nervousness, and said to him one day,
in the presence of his company:
" Why, nervousness is all nonsense
I tell you, lieutenant, no brave man will
be nervous. . .
"Well," inquired his lisping friend
"how would you do, suppothe a thel
with an Mai futhee thould drop ithel
in a walled angle, in which you ha(
taken thelter from a company of thari
thooters, and where it wath thertain i
you put out your nuthe you'd get pep
)ered?"
"How?'' said the captain, winking at
the circle, " why, I'd take it cool and
spit on the fuse.'
The party broke up, and all retired
except the patrol. The next morning
a number of soldiers were assembled on
the parade-ground,and talking is circles
when along came the lisping lieutenant.
Lazily Opening his eyes, he remarked :
" I want to try an exthperiment thith
fine morning,.and see how extheeding
ly cool you can be."
Saying this, lie walked deliberately
into the eaptain's quarters, where a fire
was burning on the hearth, and placed
in the hottest centre a powder canister,
and instantly retreated. There was but
one mode of egress from the quarters,
and that was upon the paradt-ground,
the road being built up for defense. The
occupant took one look at the canister,
comprehended his situation, and in a
moment dashed at the door, but it was
fastened.
"'Charlie, let me out, if you love me r"
shouted the captain.
" Thpit on the can ither !" shouted the
lieutenant, in return.
Not a moment was to be lost. He had
at first snatched up a blanket to cover
his egress, but now dropping it, he rais
ed the window, and out he bounded
sans everything but a very short under
garment, and thus, with hair almost on
end, he dashed upon the full parade
ground. The shouts which hailed him
drew out the whole barracks to see what
was the matter, and the dignified cap
tain pulled the sergeant in front of him
to hide himself.
"-%Vhy didn't you thpit on it?" asked
the lieutenant.
"Why, because there were no sharp
shooters in front to prevent a retreat,"
answered the captain.
"All I've got to they, then, ith, that
you might thafely have done it ; for I'll
thwear there wattin't a grain of powder
in it."
The captain has never spoken of ner
vousness since.
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING OCTOBER 11, 1871.
A Clock Wonder
During the Summer of. 18—, there
might have been observed loitering
about the Tuileries, a spare, shabbily
dressed man, past the prime of life, rest
less and disconcerted in his movements,
but wearing, in spite of his humble
garb, an air of faded respectability and
character. He was a decayed -Spanish
nobleman, Don Monsen Chavarri by
name, and one, thing noticeable about
him was his persistency in endeavoring
to obtain an audience of the Emperor.
Foiled in every attempt, either through
accident or the suspicions of the attend
ants. he invariably received his rebuff's
in silence and withdrew—merely to re
new his importunities. Repulsed to
day, to-morrow found him at his post.
He haunted the palace like a spectre.
Even the gamins soon grew familiar
with the story of his hopeless quest,
and he began in time to be treated with
that sort of pitiful consideration which
is usually accorded to those of unsound
mind.
At length, however, there came a
day, when, in the Rue de Rivoli, as the
Emperor was returning from a review,
a pistol-shot rang out from the corner
of the court, and the bullet, whistling
through the line of outriders, buried it
self in a panel of the imperial carriage.
The police at once charged the crowd,
and among the number arrested was
our friend the Spaniard.
At the trial, there being no evidence
against him, he was acquitted, but
warned instantly to leave Paris. Act
ing upon the warning he disappeared
and fur the time all traces of him were
lost.
It was some two years alter this oc
currence that there began to circulate
among the quid MOWS of the:capital re
ports of a marvellous clock to be seen
in that city, which illustrated, by
means of automatic figures, an episode
in the life of the Emperor, and was de
signed, for presentation to that person
age.
was said to be the work of a famous
artisan, who had lately arrived, incog
nito, from foreign parts, accompanied
by a young lady, his daughter, who in
a supposed tit of eccentricity had taken
lodging in au humble and obscure quar
ter of the Faubourg St. Antoine. The
reports of the wonderful, almost super
natural performances of this piece of
mechanism, and the mystery surround
ing its owner and inventor, gave rise
for a short time and in certain circles to
no small amount of gossip.
This gradually died away, and the ar
tisan and his clock were alike forgotten,
when au event occurred which restored
them to more than their former promi
nence, and entitled them to a place in
history.
-•
Fouche, one morning in his office, re
ceived a letter from his secret agent iu
Spain, which contained information of
a most startling and important charac
ter. Its perusal threw him into a state
of very unusual excitement, and its re
sult was an immediate descent of the
police upon the mysterious shop iu the
Faubourg St. Antoine, with orders to
arrest the artisan and his daughter, se
cure the premises, and carefully guard
all the stock, tools, implements and
other contents from being touched or
displaced till further opportunity offer
ed for a thorough investigation.
The party detailed for the duty hat
ing departed, Fouche re-seated himself
and waited, with ill-concealed anxiety,
the arrival of the prisoners.
After a considerable lapse of time
the officer charged with the arrest ap
peared empty-handed. His report was
soon made.
= The lady in the case, the daughter,
had that morning , at an early hour left
her house in the Faubourg, accompan
ied by a young lad who bore a heavy
black portmanteau. The two had been
traced to the gates of Montmartre, be
yond which point no clue to their move
ments could be obtained.
The old Forkman himself had left
the shop an hour before the visit of the
police, locking doors and barring win
dows behind him. He bore in his arms
what was apparently, according to the
apple-woman opposite, a great square
box, covered with oil-skin. It seemed
heavy. He sat down awhile on his
doorstep, when a caleche came by, into
which he put himself and box, with the
assistance of the driver, and was driven
oil' at a rapid pace. The caleche was
brown. The driver was in green livery.
A gensd'arme was following him, and
another was guarding the shop iu the
Faubourg, where, however, nothing
remained but a piece of furniture and a
great many scraps of brass and iron.
Fouche reflected a moment, when his
face suddenly whitened. Without a
word he dashed down the stairway to
the street and sprang into a passing
liacre.
'To the Tuileries:" he shouted.—
" Double wages for double speed."
Arrived at the palace he hastily
alighted, and demanded to be at once
shown into the presence of the Emper
or. Napoleon was iu the boudoir in
which he frequently received private
visitors, and thither the ushers instant
ly conducted Fouche, who, encounter
ing some delay in the ante-room, im
patiently pushed open the folding4loors
and entered unannounced. The Em
peror greeted the intrusion at first with
a frown of displeasure, but, instantly
recognizing his visitor, resumed 1)19 cus
tomary expression and nodded affably.
Fouche took in the situation at a sin
gle glance.
Besides Napoleon there were five per
sons in the room. Four of these were
officials of the palace—chamberlains
and armed valets—who frequently at
tended when he gave audiences, to pre-
vent attempts at private assassination.
The fifth was a man habited in a com
mon workman's blouse, standing apart
from the others, in a respectful attitude,
and holding in his hand a workman's
red fez cap. It needed but a glance to
assure Fouche that this person was none
other than the old familiar goblin of the
Tuileries—Don Monsen Chavarri. But
how metamorphosed! His hair, for
merly gray, was dyed to a glossy black
ness ; his face was despoiled of its mous
tache and pointed beard, and his once
smooth hands were roughened as though
by exposure and toil. :phis side stood
a largelacquer table, supporting an ob
ject upon which Fouche 's attention was
immediately fixed. This was seen at
once to be an exact model of the church
of the Notre Dame, wrought in metal,
in the highest style of the art, and serv
ing evidently as the case for a clock,
since just above ; he folding-doors, which
were perfect imitations of those which
barred the principal entrance to Notre
Dame, were two dials, on one of which
the hours and minutes were measured,
while on the other a long sweeping hand
described the seconds. Fouche, by a
natural impulse, noticed the time indi
cated by the dials. It lacked a few min
utes of noon.
Immediately thereafterhe started with
a nervous alarm as the clock gave a
warning note as though about to strike
—then suddenly there was a clank of
complicated machinery, and the great
doors folded slowly inward, exposing
the whole of the gorgeous interior to
view.
The mimic church was decorated as
though for some great fete. Banners
and hangings of the richest material
and most costly workmanship fluttered
from the ceilings and flaunted from the
niches in the walls. The aisles were
carpeted with tapestry and velvet, and
the pillars were clustered with gold and
blazing with gems. On the opposite
sides of the great nave two thrones were
erected, the one being approached by a
flight of velvet-covered steps and cano
pied with cloth of gold and scarlet vel
vet sprinkled with golden bees.
And now the great bell in the tower
struck one with a heavy, reverberating
clang, there arose a swell of triumphal
music, and a mimic procession, clad in
gorgeous robes; moved into view from
one of the hidden aisles. At the head
of this cortege walked an old man wear
ing a triple crown, who, as the bell toll
ed for the second time, ascended the
steps of the smaller throne.
It was the ceremony of the coronation
performed by automatons.
Napoleon looked on with unusual In
terest. " Confess, Fouche," said' he,
"that this Is as admirable in its way as
the police system of Paris. There Is •ne
mistake, however," he continued. "The
great doors of Notre Dame were not
open on that occasion. The throne was
built against them; and the only en
trance was through the transverse
halls."
"True, sire," said the fictitious artisan
casting a side glance at Fouche, whose
name he had just heard pronounced.
"True but your majesty will see that It
is a mistake unavoidable here. Like the
rest of the world, - we have,been obliged
to sacrifice truth in order to secure ef
fect."
The'Emperor smiled, and remained
Meanwhile, Follette was revolving a
dilemma in his mind with the rapidity
of one accustomed to act in a dangerous
crisis. There are situations in which a
slight vantage in the hands of a dan
gerous man may set at naught the
strength of thousands, and in which the
most extraordinary means must be em-.
ployed to secure what are apparently
trifling results. Fondle adopted the
course which seemed at first most speed
ily practicable, since the consideration
of first importance was, in this instance,
time.
" Yo. , r majesty," said he, Eidsancing,
and speaking rapidly, " may I request
your immediate:attendance in your Cab
inet to a matter of the utmost impor
tance—a matter which will not admit
of a moment's delay."
The Emperor turned in surprise, and
frowned. Chavarri looked up sullenly
and Bilerat3 , , and made a suspicious
movement toward his clock. With the
rapidity of thought Douche changed
his plans.
Your Majesty," said he, loudly and
more rapidly than before, " the Lady
Isidore Chavarri has Just been arrested
near the Cemetery of Montmartre,
charged with a capital crime. She has
already been tried by a special tribunal
and condemned to death. I come to
implore your Majesty to grant her par-
• - .
As he spoke he fixed a painful, search
ing gaze upon the Spaniard. This time
the bolt had struck. The old man's
tawny face was taking on a sickly hue
and his limbs trembled. This is a most
unusual proceeding," said the Emperor
in amazement. " Who is this lady, and
what is the nature of her crime ?'
Fouche, bent double with suspense,
still keeping his eye riveted upon the
tawny, changing face, spoke almost im
ploringly.
" You have trusted me before, sire. I
beseech you trust me now. Ask me no
questions, but write the pardon—quick-
There was an instant of silence,broken
only by the ticking and low, fair music
of the clock. The second hand was
measuring oft' the sixtieth minute, with
rapid, steady sweep. Almost uncon
sciously Fouche drew a pistol from his
pocket, cocked it unobserved, and with
a face as that of a corpse, was raising
himself to ilre—with a cry to the Em
peror on his lips—when Chavarri.whose
mind seemed torn by contending emo
tions, bent suddenly over his mechan
ism, touched a spring concealed in the
tower, and instantly the whole compli
cated machinery of the clock stopped
with a sudden metallic clang. The
music ceased, the automatons paused,
standing like statues, each iu his place,
the mimic Emperor stretching out his
hand for the crown of the Caesars, and
the great bell in the tower poised mid
way in itsswing for the twelfth and final
stroke.
" Parbleu " muttered Fouche, pock
eting the pistol, and wiping the perspi
ration from his brow. " Allow me,
Monsieur," he said, advancing to the
table; " let me inspect this wonderful
spechnen of art."
'lt is so delicate, Monsieur," said
Chavarri, hurriedly, still keeping his
linger on the secret spring, and waving
Fouche off with his uneugaged hand.
" Here is the pardon," said the Empe-
ror, affixing his signature to a paper as
he spoke. " I hold you, Fouehe, re
sponsible for results. Well, what
next?"
" Our worthy friend's clock is broken,
it appears," said Fouche, awkwardly.
" Broken, sire," said the Spaniard,
"and with it the plans of a lifetime.
And," he added, casting down his eyes,
and speaking in a querulous broken
voice, "since, when one's hopes are
broken, one cares but little where he
goes, I wish a passport to leave France."
Fouche took up the cue immediately.
" I have to request, sire," said he, "that
you also make out a full and free par
don fur the accomplice of the Lady
Isidore Chavarri—her father, Dan Mose n
Chavarri, of Seville."
The Emperor smiled bitterly. His
active mind had already compassed the
situation, and without a word either of
expostulation or inquiry he seized a pen
and wrote. Then, he advanced with it
in his hand.
" Our friend here," said he, " doubt
less knows where these parties are tube
found, and to him I confide these pa
pers."
The old man, still jealously keeping
his hand on the spring of mechanism,
read aloud :
".A full permission to Don Mosen and
Donna Isidore Chavarri to leave France
immediately, without him , ranee or
question."
"Add," said he, "and alive."
" You would have made a good diplo
mat," said Napoleon, as he made the
required addition.
Chavarri hesitated for a moment, re
moved his hand lingeringly from the
spring, and bowing his head, glided to
wards the door. Just upon the thresh
hold he turned in sudden dismay.
" Where shall I tied my daughter?"
asked Chavarri.
" When she is found we will send
Monsieur word," sneered Fondle.
An expression of the most intense
malignity flashed across the old man's
face, and with an oath he sprang back
toward the table in the room. But a
pistol confronted him.
" The pardons are forfeited !" cried
Fouche.
" No," said the Emperor, " let him
pass."
Chavarri, with a look of wonder,
wheeled slowly about and disappeared.
After his departure Napoleon stood
for a short time iu the centre of the
apartment lost in a profound reverie:
Then, as his gaze fell upon the clock
and the automaton standing beneath
the suspended crown within, he bent
forward and regarded the figure atten
tively.
" So," he said, " this was to have
been my successor."
It is scarcely necessary to add that the
clock proved, on examination, to be an
infernal machine of thlb most ingenious
and deadly description. Concealed be
neath the metallic slab, which formed
the pavements of the mimic chapel, and
which was constructed to fold back at
the proper moment, was found a triple
row of small wrought-iron barrels, load
ed heavily with slugs and balls, and ar
ranged to cover an arc of forty-five de
grees, at a distance of twenty yards from
the machine ; no one within that range
could possibly have withstood their dis
charge, exploded simultaneously, exact
ly when the hands on the dial indicated
the hour of noon ; but a spring on the
outside of the case gave the manipulator
power to alter the "set" of the works,
and discharge them sooner if necessary.
A few months after the occurrence of
the incident narrated above, Fouche re
ceived a letter from Chavarri, then in
England, written in the vein in which
men who have played a desperate game
and lost occasionally write to those who
have outwitted them. The writer stated
that the clock was entirely the work of
his own hands, and that he and his
daughter alone were concerned in the
plot, which had been frustrated by
Fouche's promptness.
As for himself, he had little expecta
tion of escaping, having freely \ resolved
to involve himself, if necessarl, in the
destruction which should overwhelm
the Emperor. His daughter, however,
the only person on earth for whom he
retained any affection, he could net af
ford thus to sacrifice. He had made
provision elsewhere for her future sup
port, and, according to the original plan,
she was to have left Parissome thirty days
before the consummation of the plot,
thus having abundant time to pass the
frontier and reach a place of safety. This
had been foiled by an unforeseen event.
On the evening before the final fiasco
at the Tuileries they had received infor
mation to the effect that Napoleon was on
the point of departure for the frontier,and
everything being in readiness, and the
period of his return being uncertain, it
was determined to make the attempt at
once. On the following morning, ac
cordingly, the daughter had departed
at as early an hour as possible, trusting
to good fortune for her escape, and he
himself, fortified with letters from
prominent officials, had proceeded 'to
the palace at eleven, having given his
daughter all the time it was possible to
spare.
Fouche himself knew the rest.
No personal danger, no promised
honor, nothing, in short, but the cun
ningly devised falsehood regarding his
daughter, could have Induced him,
Chavarri, to stop the hands of the fatal
clock.
He,also confessed that it was he who,
two years before, had fired the shot in
the Rue de Rivoli. and stated that it
had long beets the sole aim and purpose
of his life to assassinate Napoleon. He
sit : _tt)444o..t
added, however, that they need
have no fear of his repeating the at
tempt, as the magnanimity of the Em
peror on the last occasion had complete
ly disarmed him.
Cbavarri subsequently died in ex
treme poverty in London. Of the after
fate of his daughter nothing is known.
His clock, despoiled of the murderous
portion of its machinery, was preserved
for several years In the Tuileries, and
was finally destroyed by an accidental
fire and the falling of a wall.
The Genii of the Chest
A Mystery In the Mines.
In the Summer of 1850, I found my
self,lin company with some sixty or
seventy others, hard at work, and prof
itably too, in a place called " Indian
Diggings," in the Southern mines of
California.
I was associated in this enterprise
with a man named Burditt, who had
been at work in the mines some five or
six months prior to my arrival. He
had been industrious and prudent, and
had already saved up about one thou
sand dollars' worth of dust. He had
erected a log cabin ou the start, and,
liking my appearance, had invited me,
after a week or two's acquaintance, to
•
share it with him.
This was a distinction which, up to
the present, he had not thought advisa
ble to proffer to any other man. He
told me that there were hot many in
the mines that he would care to trust
with his confidence. As to myself, he
assured me, from the first moment he
had seen me, he had not felt the least
hesitation about trusting me. He in
formed me, without reserve, that he
carried a thousand dollars in gold about
his person, but would not care to have
the fact generally known.
One morning, about three weeks after
my advent into the mines, the news
came to us that one of the miners had
been robbed of a large sum of gold in
the most mysterious and unaccountable
manner. He had buried the gold under
a chest In his tent for safe-keeping, sev
eral weeks previous to the discovery of
the robbery,and having since accum ulu
lated about as much more, had resolved
to take his pile toStockton for safe-keep
ing. But what was his surprise on look
ing for the gold to rind every particle of
it missing.
Now what was stranger than all, no
one had seen him bury this gold, and
no one under the sun could have guess-
ed where it was without. The circum
stances produced a goockdeal of excite
ment. and a great man} went to look
at the spot where the theft was commit
ted, and among that number was Mr.
Burditt and myself. We found quite a
number of miners present, listening to
Melvill's account of the robbery ; for by
that name was the unfortunate man
known.
" I tell you what, gents," said he,
pointing to an old chest which occupied
a place in one corner of the tent in
which we were assembled, " I want to
get rid of that old article of furniture,
and though I paid a round sum for it,
I'll sell it to any one for a song. Per
haps I may be superstitious, but It's my
opinion, nevertheless, that the plaguy
old thing carries its luck along with it.
It has been owned, to my certain knowl
edge, by no less thau four different per
sons, and every one of them were rob
bed during the time they had it iu their
possession."
Burditt was a thorough-going skeptic,
and only laughed at what lie called a
foolish superstition on the part of Mel
vin.
" Look here," said he, I'll take the
chest off your hands, and if I get rob
bed, I'll give you au ounce of gold for
it; otherwise you shall receive noth
ing."
The mocking, incredulous tone of
Burditt was too much for the patience
of Melvill, whose recent ill-luck had not
left him in the best of moods, and he
angrily closed with my partner's offer.
On our return to the cabin, we took
the ill-omened chest along with us, and
Burdittcongratulated himself very high
ly upon his own individual shrewdness.
" I tell you what," said he, producing
a small tin can, " I am going to make
sure of not being robbed. I'll just sink
my dust, and put the chest over it."
He accordingly emptied his gold into
the can, and after digging a hole in the
ground deep enough to receive it with
out covering the top of it, asked me to
assist him in placing the chest over it.
This I did, and the chest was speedily
filled with a variety of articles too nu
merous to mention, but which rendered
it so heavy that, with our united
strength, we found it impossible to
mc.ve it.
" There," said my partner, with a
gratified chuckle, " if any body is able
to get it now, we may safely take oath
that it is the old fellow with the cloven
foot."
In regard to the recent robbery. every
possible exertion was made to discover
the thief, but without avail. It was one
of those mysterious affairs which give
rise only to conjecture and uncertainty,
and, alike everything else In California,
the Melvill robbery only served for a
few days as the staple of conversation.
In the meantime, Burditt and I con
tinued to work our claims with more
than average success, and very little
thought was given to my partner's late
deposit under the chest.
Burditt was a man about forty years
of age, and had left a wife and daugh
ter in the States. He frequently assur
ed me that the moment he obtained
gold enough to effect the purpose, he
should return for his family, and after
wards open a boarding establishment in
the mines, in which thutAnuss he was
confident he should amass a fortune.
Soon after this we struck a vein, and
between us we took out twenty-two
hundred dollars in eight days.
"Now I am off for the States," said
my partner, after we had exhausted the
vein ; " and," lie added, " I shall leave
you in charge of the shanty while I ant
gone."
" Well," said I, '• look after your
traps on just one condition."
"Name it," said he; for he saw by
my look that I meant something.
The condition is that you shall give
me your daughter, and I will accept the
old chest yonder as her dowry, for I
shall want sotnething to put my dust in
by the time you get back."
"Well, that is a bargain," he replied,
"if you can only make Kate willin' !"
(Kate was the daughter's name,) "and
if she takes after her mother, I am sure
you can, for I did ; 'and I don't believe
they'd hang me for my beauty any
quicker'n they would you."
Shortly before Burditt was ready to
set out on his journey, he asked me to
help him move the chest, in order that
he might take along with him the gold
he had buried there ; but what was our
surprise and astonishment on removing
it, to find the can in which it had been
placed empty.
" Good God ! " said Burditt, with a
half-stupefied air, " I've been robbed in
spite of all my precautions, and who
under the sun's light could have done
it ?n
It was impossible for me to answer
ihe question, for I was as much puzzled
as he, and equally in trouble, too, for the
absence of the gold placed me in a most
trying and painful situation, as I had
been the only one who had seen him
place it there ; and I felt, under exist
ing circumstances, as though he must
regard me as the culprit.
I was determined, however, to have a
clear understanding with my partner on
the spot, then and there, and not have
any suspicions haunting his mind.
Friend Burditt," said I, emptying
all the dust I had into the can, " the
whole thing Is altogether ahead of my
comprehension ; butone thing is certain
it places me in rather a suspicious light,
though Heaven knows I am as guiltless
of the theft as a child unborn ! I shall
not blame you, however, if •you doubt
my word, for I must acknowledge it
looks dark for me ; but what I now want
, you to do is, to take the gold I have
placed in the can, and when you can say
without one lingering doubt to the con
trary, ' He is innocent! ' you can return
it, but not till then."
For an instant be gazed at me with a
blank look of surprise, and then taking
the can of gold in one hand he exchang
ed it to the other, and passed it quickly
back to me.
"Look here," he said, "I'd sooner be
lieve the evil one took it, or my own
father, than you ; and I'd call you a liar
if you said you .did. I'd rather lose
twice that sum than believe you would
be guilty of such a thing. No, slr-ee!
that wouldn't go down nohow—under
no circumstance whatever. I believed
you an honest fellow the first time I
clapped eyes on you, - and I, haven't had
occasion yet to alter my opinion. Well,
I suppbse there is no help for It now,
but to go to work once more and make
up my loss. It comes rather tough,
though, after getting all ready for a
start."
." Look here," said I, "let me lend
you the amount you have lost, and take
it out in board on your return."
" Well," responded he i after a mo
ment's reflection, " I wouldn't object to
uorrow it on those terms, certainly. Al
for the old chest, I'll make you a pres
ent of it; but I advise you to knock it
to pieces the first thing you do, for, as
Melvin said, I believe the old thing
brings ill-luck along with it."
The same day my friend started ou
his way rejoicing, and I continued on
with my labors in the mines.
Some weeks after Burditt'sdeparture,
as I sat one evening running over the
columns of the Pacific News, I heard a
noise, which sounded like the nibbling
of a mouse. I listened for a moment,
and was satisfied it proceeded from the
chest. ,
- -
I arose softly and approached nearer;
the nibbling still continued, seemingly
somewhere within the interior of the
- -
Thinks I to myself, I'll just eject the
trespasser from the premises before he
has time to establish a colony there.
I accordingly took a sly peep in
side, but could discover nothing. Still
I continued to hear the noise very
plainly, but where did it proceed from?
That was the query.
I kept on listening, and was at length
convinced that the noise came from
underneath the chest.
I looked again, and this time discov
ered the important fact that the bottom
of the chest was at least three inches
above the ground upon which it rested.
I was not long iu coming to the con
clusion, after that, that it was either a
false bottom or a very thick one. I ac
cordingly turned the chest over on one
side, that I might examine more par
ticularly, for I knew if there was a
mouse inside, that there must be a hole
somewhere for it to enter. A single
glance satisfied me that there was a
false bottom to the chest, for the lower
one was quite rotten, and perforated
with holes in several places
There was no longer any doubt as to
the existence of the tiny invader and
his whereabouts. I caught up a hatchet
and stove in the bottom. The next in
stant out leaped a small mouse. and at
the same time some dirt was dislodged,
which I knew must have been carried
in by the late tenant. I picked up some
of it; and saw in an instant that it was
mired up with fine gold.
This was a discovery which looked
likely to elucidate the mystery. I cut
away the bottom, and carefully re
moved the dirt which had been deposit
ed there by the indefatigable little Work
er. There was something more titan a
peck of it, and so rich with gold was it,
that I succeeded in separating a large
quantity with my fingers. I then wash
ed it carefully, and afterwards took an
account of stock. The nest of gold had
yielded the sum of twenty-eight hun
dred and some odd dollars.
This story may seem almost incredi
ble to the reader; but he must bear in
mind that, accordinz to Melvill's state
ment, there were to be traced no less
than six distinct robberies to the sly
little " Genii of the Chest."
Jefferson's Old Age
Mr. Jefferson's , -public life was now
brought to a close. He had attended the
inauguration of his friend, James Mad
ison, his successor in the Presidency,
and still a vigorous man of sixty-six
years of age. He retired to Monticello
about the middle of March, able to ac
complish the last three days of his jour
ney there on horseback. Here he re
sided through the remaining seventeen
years of his life.
Mr. Jefferson can not be reproached
with any fondness for money, or for
any disposition unduly to hoard or to
accumulate it. His expenditures were
always those of a generous and liberal
mind. In his youth, when it could not
have been the custom for young men to
collect a library, we find that lie lost
by the burning of his house at Shad
well, books which cost him a thousand
dollars. Not discouraged by this, dur
ing all his active life, lie had purchased
books in literature, science, history, di
plomacy, the classics, belles-lettres,
Bich as were important to his mental
Culture.
The hospitalities of. his mansion, too,
had always been without stint or bound,
according to the custom of the country
in which he lived, and this, the attrac
tion of his distiuguistied.and agreeable
social qualities, and of his important
political position, had rendered very
burdensome to a fortune which could
never have been considered very large,
and of a nature which could only - have
been made to yield any considerable in
come by a degree of care and attention
which he was never in a position to af
ford. In his public life he had always
considered it due to the dignity of his
high political positions, to apportion his
expenses in a liberal manner for hospi
tality, service and equipage. And, in
fact, during his time, iu memory of the
aristocratic institutions which had ex
isted, and of the circumstances of forms
and dignities with which Washington
had recently surrounded himself, it
would have hardly been possible for
him to make any savings, either from
the allowances of his olticlal employ
ments or from the income of his private
fortune.
Ile returned, then, to Monticello In
declining life, with a moderate income,
and with great demands upon it. The
principal occupations of his remaining
years were the education of his grand
children, who lived with him, the man
agement of his own estates, hospitali•
ties to numerous guests, and most of all,
the writing of replies to a multitude of
letters with which he was tiiiite over
burdened and almost overwhelmed.—
Thus for sixteen years he passed his
time, for the most part in the daily du
ties and the daily pleasures of the life
of a country gentleman. The order of
his life was at times shaded and dark
ened by serious anxieties as to his pecu
niary affairs. These severely pressed
upon him during his later years, not.
so much by reason of his own hnprov-
Idence, as of ,failure on the part of
friends whom he had trusted. Yet,
notwithstanding these things, he still
preserved his philosopy and serenity
of . mind, and made such arrangements
as were possible to meet, his obliga
tions and to preserve his independence.
During the period from 1117 to 1821 i, he
had also found very serious and contin
ued occupation in founding the estab
lishment of the University of Virginia.
He had resumed the projects of his
youth, which were fur the education of
all classes of white people. By his In
fluence, constantly and unremittingly
exhibited, the Legislature of his State
had made grants, not indeed, so large as
he demanded, but still In large and lib
eral measure, for the purpose of educa
tion, generally for the founding of the
University of Virginia. The control and
superintendence of this establishment
in its earlier years indeed its initiation
and foundation, were confided by the
State to a Board of Visitors, upon which
were glapi to serve the most distinguish
ed men df Virginia, with Mr. Jefferson
as their rector and chief. To Mr. Jef
ferson it was mainly due that the most
able and learned men were induced to
serve as professors in this institution,
and that its constitution was of the most
liberal character.
The year 1826 found him at the crisis '
of his fortune and of his life. Eighty
three years old, infirm in body, the vigor
of his mind failing, the embarrassments
of his pecuniary affairs harrassing, and
suddenly much aggravated by au unex
pected loss of considerable amount, he
found himself obliged to consider how
he could so dispose of his remaining
property as to pay his debts and supply
the necessities of living. While engaged
in proposing such arrangements as oc
curred to him, and while his private and
public friends and the Legislatures of
some of the States were occupied in de
vising measures for the pecuniary reliet
of one to whom they were so much in•
debted, worn with age, and with cares
and disorders, he quietly expired, a lit
tle after noon, on the 4th of July, 1826,
about four hours before the death of his
compatriot and friend, John Adams,
and just fifty years after himself arid the
same John Adams had signed that de
claration which, on the 4th of July, 1776,
announced to the world the independ
ence of America.— Theodore Parker.
Ex-Secretary Seward arrived in New
York on Wednesday.
The vintage of. Call tornia yields 8,000,-
000 gallons exclusive of brandy.
The new Whisk Commissioner,Gur
ney had barely finished washing his
hands after arrival at his hotel, in New
York, when he was set upon by an in
terviewer.
NUMBER 41
Adventures In Pigtail and Petticoats
Au English trader who essayed to
make his way by laud from China to Cal
cutta, and for that purpose assumed the
dress of a Chinaman—" tho same with
intent to deceive " has given to the
world the story of his adventures, in a
volume which he calls the " Travels of
a Pioneer of Commerce in Pigtail and
Petticoats." His name is T. T. Cooper.
It appears from his ..unpretentious nar
rative that he encountered every kind
of discomfort during the whole journey.
Once the casual removal of his specta
cles brought a mob of Chinamen around
him. He was loudly hooted, and one
man being the worse for drink, caneht
hold'of his skirts and nearly pulled him
backward. Luckily, Mr. Cooper's as
sailant happened to be humpbacked and
very ugly, so a profound bow to him, and
a reverential exclamation of "Surely,
this Is a great soldier! " tickled the keen
sense _of ridicule which is implanted
in the Chinese, and turned the tables.
Mr. Cooper was not quite so pacific
when he met a great mandarin on his
journey, and was upset into a newly
flooded paddy field by the great man's
outriders. "The soldiers," says Mr.
Cooper, " ordered my fellows off the
road into the field ; and on their nat•
urally objecting, one of the soldiers,
without more ado, rode at my chair,
knocking chair and coolies head over
heels into the fields. Fortunately, no
great harm was done beyond a wetting
and bespattering with the soft mud,
about two feet deep, in which I left
my sat.n boots while struggling to re
gain the road." For a moment Mr.
Cooper showed fight, making a rush at
the soldier, and intending to drag him
off his pouy ; but. he thought better of
it, for the mandarimw ho followed with,
a large escort, would no doubt have
taken summary vengeance. Another
danger to which Mr. Cooper was ex
posed may seem to east some rellec . tion
on the system of competitive examina
tions in China. One of the towns that
he visited was crowded with the candi
dates for literary and military honors;
and the result of their presence in the
place was that all the Christian inhabi
tants had left, and a stranger could not
show himself in public. }hands of riot
ous and excited students were constant
ly going up and down the streets ; and
Mr. Cooper heard that the year before,a
number of these candidates had wreck-
NI the house of a Christian bishop.
:\ Ir. Cooper had more than one expe
rience of the superstitious fears of his
Chinese boatmen. Ile once happened
to spit over the bow, and was inn medi
ately pulled violently back by one of
the men, who said he had offended the
wind god. It was necessary to propitiate
that deity by an offering of crackers,
and these were solemnly let off the same
evening. Another time, when the bout
was in a narrow and rocky gorge, with
perpendicular sides rising SUO feet or OUO
feet high, Mr. Cooper gave the Austrian
cry of "cohee," which was answered by
a thousand echoes. All of a sudden a
large mass of rock, several tons In weight,
fell with a noise like thunder, crashing
first on a projecting crag, 200 feet or MO
feet above the boat, and then plunging
into the river within ten yards of
it, deluging it with the spray. Mr.
Cooper himself shuddered at the danger
he had so narrowly escaped; Got his
crew were (re their knees, and did not
stir till every echo awakened by the
crash and plunge had (lied away among
the distant hills. They then told Mr.
Cooper that he had made the god of the
hills very angry, and had caused him to
hurl this great rock at the bout ; they
proposed, therefore, to anchor at once
and burn some sacred tapers. As this
request was not grunted, the boatmen
made up for it by burning a great quan
tity of tapers that evening, and letting
off so many crackers that Mr. Cooper
found sleep almost out of the question.
But the most perplexing predicament
in which Mr. Cooper found himself in
volved was his unconscious marriage to
a native maiden. I fere is the story : He
was just halting for breakfast, after leav
ing the Thibetan town of Bathang,
when a group of girls, gaily dressed and
decked with garlands of flowers, came
out of a grove and surrounded him, some
of them holding his mule, while others
assisted hint to alight. He was then led
into the grove, where he found a feast
being prepared, and after he had eaten
and smoked his pipe, the girls came up
to him again, "pulling along in their
midst a pretty girl of sixteen, attired in
a silk dress, and adorned with gar
lands of !lowers." " I had already
noticed," Mr. Cooper continues, "this
girl sitting apart from the others
during the meal, and was very
much astonished when she was reluct
antly dragged up to me, and made to
seat herself by my side; and my aston
ishment was considerably heightened
when the rest of the girls began to dance
round us in a circle, singing and throw
ing their garlands•over myself and my
companion." The meaning of this per
formance was, howeNer, soon made clear
to Mr. Cooper. He had been married
without knowing it. At first he tried to
escape the liability entailed upon him,
but such au outcry was made by all the
people round that he was forced to carry
off his bride. Ile managed to get rid of
her before very long by transferring her
to one of her relations ; but even that
was not treated as a dissolution of the
marriage. On his way back he was
Joined one day by a Thibetan dame, of
about thirty-live years old, who an
nounced herself as his wife's mother,
and said that she had come, with the
consent of her husband, to supply her
daughter's place. We can well imagine
Mr. Cooper's surprise at meeting with
this novel proposal on the part of his
mother•iu-law.—.V. Y. Coin. Adecrliscr,
The Camel's Hump.
Modern research has determined a
curious citcoinstance of an organic con
trivance in the camel and leech, unlike,
as they are 10 structure, function and
habits, which has reference to supplying
them with food from storehouses in
titer own bodies, till supplies are at
tainable from other sources.
The hump is an immense collection of
fat stored in reticulated cells piled one
upon another, which is concentrated
food. When fodder cannot he hail, us
frequently occurs on their long caravan
travels in the desert, a peculiar set of
absorbent vessels draws upon the maga
zine—the hump—carrying the fat in
to circulation till food from without
puts a stop to the draft on the back.—
The hump is very sensibly diminished
at times—even being almost completely
leveled, bat that which was thus bur
rowed to :install' life temporarily is im
mediately replaced when the' stomach
is set in motion again in Its accustomed
manner.
The medical leech, or blood-sucker,
low as it is in the organic scale of life,
is as carefully provided for in regard to,
the contingencies of life as the king of
the country. As the blood passes down
the gullet of the leech, the current di
vides right and left to enter two latheral
tubes, instead of entering directly tnto,
the stomach. These canals are folded,
zigzag, nackward and forward in loops
as it were, from the head to the tail.
‘Vhen perfectly filled, the leech letsgo
its hold. It is then plump and full,
with a stock of food on hand that may
ordinarily last from one to two years,
in case it has no opportunity to take . In
another in that long time.
One's Friend
Money can buy many things, good
and evil. All the wealth of the world
could not buy you a friend, nor pay you
for the loss of one. "I have wanted only
one thing to make me happy," Hazlitt
writes, but wanting that, have wanted
every thing."
We are the weakest of spendthrifts if
we let one friend drop off through inat
tention, or let one push away another,
or if we hold aloof from one for petty
jealousy or heedless slight or roughness.
Would you throw away a diamond be
cause it pricked you? One good friend
Is not to be weigned against the jewels
of all the earth. If there Is coolness or
unkindness between us, let us come
face to face, and have it out.—
Quick before love grows cold! "Life is
too shDrt to quarrel in," or to carry
black thoughts of friends. If I was
wrong, I am sorry ; if you, then I am
sorrier yet, for should...L.uot grieve for
my friend's misfortune? and the mend
ing of your fate does not lie with me.
But the forgiving it does, and that is
the happier office. Give me your hand
and call it even. There! it Is gone; and
I thank a kind heaven I keep my friend
still ! A friend is too precious a thing
to be lightly held, but It must be a little
heart that cannot find room for more
than one or two,. The kindness I feel
for you warms me toward all the rest,
makes me long to do something to make
you all happy. It is easy to lose a friend,
but a new one will not come for calling,
nor make up for an old. one when he
comes.
Facethe.
A paper that takes—A sherilr's war
rant. • .
Any two apples are alike if they are
pared.
The'bill•sticker's •Paradise—The great
wall of„Ctilna,
Whiei'retidens the rose, Whiskey the
nose, and tight boots the toes.
The wisest of men must be total.y out
of their latitude—at the equator.
What is lovely women's favorite line
in the dictionary? The last word.
If you are An dolibt whether to kiss a
pretty girl, give her the benefit of ttie
doubt,
Grant says there is one of his shirts
that makes him uneasy. We presume
he means Carl.
The Norfolk Dug Rook " A
Word to the Old \V trigs." The eo:•fil is
a
column long.
"What a little child!" said a friend.
" Ah," said Hood, " his parents ii.±:er
made much of him."
Some oue feeling that actions are het
ter than words, has said : "We read of
the acts of the Apostles, but never of
their resolutions."
A miserable man in Indiana has re
fused to pay for publishing au obituary
notice of his wife. Some men would do
it with pleasure.
It Is a proverb in New Hampshire
that "all good chickens when they die
go to the larders of the mountain
houses."
Mrs. Jones' colored coachman being
told that his cockade Is a badge of ser
vitude, replies that, on the contrary,
•'it am a sign of de livery."
•
Why is a police official who exercises
supervision over public carriages like a
ghost with a chroni3 .Sough? Because
he's a hackin' spectre.
It is said that in London •` a child is
born every live minutes." It .must he
a little unpleasant to the children to
have the process repeated so often.
John's wile and John were trte-n•trtr :
Stu• witty was, Indindrions he:
Says John, •• I've earned Cho bread we',"
at 0
Arid I, - Kays she, 6 . have malted the lea
•
A Cincinnati newspaper contains the
account of the production of a new play,
the audience sat "spell-hound. Ono wits
deaf, and the other thi'ee asleep "
A New York clergyman, recently,
spoke of a woman having "the pearl
drops of affection hanging glistening on
her cheeks." He meant to say that she
cried.
A correspondent of the /fareford
Courant who has been sailing along the
Massachusetts coast, wonders why
Oloucester is spelled the way it Is; and,
if that is right, why shouldn't lobster
be spelled " lobcester."
A corre;ipontlent of an it,4ricultora
paper asks, " Where can wool be prof
itably grown We are of opinion
that there is no place where It can more
profitably be grown than on the buck or
a sheep.
" Do you think," asked Mrs. Pepper,
" that a little temper Is a bad thing in
a woman ?" " Certainly not, ma'am,"
replied a gallant philosopher, "it Is a
good thing, and she ought never I.
lose it."
As my wife. at the window, 1,110 day,
Stood watching it num with it donkey,
A cart came along with ' u broth of a boy"
Who was oiriving n smut Mlle donkey.
To my wife I then spoke, by way of a Joke,
"'There's a relation of yours In that c.ir
riatte! '
To which she rep! led, at the titmicey site spic
"All, yes—.t relatioa by marriage!"
A little boy had a great liking for the
water. Ills mother told hint not to go
on the wharfs, or near the water, "for
Fredth ,, , if you should get drovitted,
should never know whatever became of
you " "Olt, yes, you would, 'cal lee it
would be in the papers."
That man," said a wag, "came t,
Nashua forty years ago, purehased
basket and commenced gathering rags.
How much do you suppose he is worth
now ?" It was a conundrum we could
not answer. "Nothing," he continued
after a pause, "and he owes for the
basket."
• "I keep the best bread," said a cella' n
baker to a poor fellow who complained
of the inferior quality of the article he
had purchased. "I don't doubt it," re
plied the customer. "Then why do you
complain?" asked the baker. "Itecause
I would suggest that you sell the best
bread and keep the bad," WWI the re
ply.
A little Waterbury allavenvas Hitting
near his mother, who was picking over
raisins when she was called out of the
rosin, and as she left said, "Now, Son
ny, don't touch any of those raisins
when I am gone." Presently mother
returned and inquired, "Well, Charlie,
did you take my raisins'."' "No, mam
ma." "You know if you did God saw
you." "Yes I know he did, but lie
won't tell."
tawthorne and the Scarlet Letter
During the whole Winter when: the
' Scarlet Letter' WLIS being written he
seemed much depressed and anxious.—
"There was a knot in his forehead all
the time," Mrs. Hawthorne said, but
she thought it was from some pecuni
ary anxiety, such Ira sometimes affected
that little household. One evening he
came to her and said that lie had writ
ten something which he wished to read
aloud ; It was worth very little, but as it
was finished he might as well read It. Ile
read aloud all that evening ; but 118 the
romance was left unfinished when they
went to bed, riot a word was then said
about It on either side. He always dis-
liked, she said, to have anything criti
cised until the whole had been read. He
read a second evening, and the concen
trated excitement had grown so great
that she could scarcely bear it. At last
it grew unendurable; In the midst of
the scene ' near the end of the book,
where Arthur Dim mesdale meets Hester
and her child in the forest, Mrs. Haw
thorne fell from her low stool upon the
tioor,premsed her hands upon her earsand
said she could hear no more. Hawthorne
put down the manuscript and looked
at her In amazement. "Do you really
feel It so touch lie said : "then there
must be something in it." He prevailed
on her to rise and to hear the few re
maining chapters of the romance. To
those who know Mrs. Hawthorne's Im-
pressible nature this reminiscence of
hers will have no tinge of exaggeration,
but will appear very characteristic; she
had borne to the utmost the strain upon
her emotions before yielding. The next
Jay, she said, the manuscript was de
livered to Mr. Fields,and the next morn
ing he appeared early at the door, and
on being admitted, caught up her boy
In his arms, saying: " You splendid
little fellow, do you know what a father
you have?" Then he ran up-stairs to
Hawthorne's study, telling her as he
went that he (and I think Mr. Whipple)
had set up all night to read it, and had
come to SLlem as early as possible in the
morning. She did nut go up-stairs, but
soon her husband came down with fire
In his eyes, and walked about the
room.a different man. I have hesitated
whether to print this brief narrative.--
Yet everything which Illustrates the
creation of a great literary work belongs
to the world. How it would delight us
all if the Shakespeare societies were to
bring to light a description like this of
the very first reading of "Macbeth" or
of "Hamlet!" To me It is somewhat
the same thing to have got Bo near to
the birth-hour of the "Scarlet Letter"--
T. IV. /fig/al/son.
itAILBOAD LANDS
CHEAP FA RMS 1 FREE HOMES!
On the line of the
UNION PACIFIC RAILROAD
A Land Grant of
12,1100,000 ACRES
Of the
lied Puri/nay und;Mincrat Land., in A meek. ,
.Y.M,Wi Acres °rei - deck - arming and Grazine
Lands no the line of the road, In the State of
Nebraska, in the Great Platte Valley, now fob°
sale, for cash or long credit.
These lands arc In a mild and healthy cli
mate, and for graln•growing and stack-raising,
unsurpassed by any in the United States.
Prlceot Hance from 62 to 610 Per Acre
HOMESTEADS FOR ACTUAL SETTLERS
2,500,10) Acre , . or Government Land, between
Omaha and North Platte, open for entry an
Hoinesceadm only.
.80f,DIF,R,M OF TILE LATE WAR'
FREE HOMESTEAD OP 160 :ACRE.M,
Within Railroad llmltx, equal to a
DIRECT BOUNTY OF 8400.
Send for tne new edition ordeseriptive pam
phlet, wLh new Inapt mailed free ever w here.
Address 0. F. DAV I S,
Land Commissioner U. I'. R. It. Co.,
3mdoawAllmw• Omaha. Neb.
KO PON ED AMENDMENT TO TH
EE
CONsPITUTIoN OP PENNSYLVANIA.
JOINT REVOLUTION
• -
Proposing an Amendment to the Constitution
of Penasylvania.
Be it Resolved by the Senate and House of Rep
resentatives of the Onsmostecallh of Pennsylvania
Cienerul Asserub'y nag, That tile following
Amendment of the Constitution of this Com
monwealth beproposed to the pimple for their
adoption or rejection, pursuant to the provis
ions of the tenth article thereof, to wit
AMENDMENT.
- - -
Strike out the Sixth Section of the Sixth Ar •
ticie of the Constitution, and Insert in lieu
thereof, to wit:
" A State Treasurer shall be chosen by the
qualified electors of the State, at such times
and for such term of service as shall be pre
scribed by law."
JAMES H. WEBB,
Speaker of the House of Representatives.
WILLIAM. A. WALLACE
Speaker of the Senate
Approved the fifteenth day of June, Arum
Domini, one thousand eight hundred and
seventy-one.
JNO. W. GEARY.
Prepared and certified for publication pur-
Stlarlt to the Tenth Article ortheConstitution
F. JORDAN,
Secretary of the Commonwealth
Office Secretary of the Commonwealth, t
0010 If arrlebtuw, July oth, 871. Jpa