The; Sliest Warrior*, lb* sun shone La at the window, On the printer'* one* and typo, And the heap* of my ■ tie letter* Were bathed in lta golden light: And I thought of the truth* there hidden, Of the mighty power there laid. In thoee pile* of dueky metal, When in marahaled rank* arrayed. /or by them our tool* find roloe* For truth* the age* hare taught: In volume* the dead have treaaured. In word* in immortal thought) And they have tongue* for our *orrow, And *ong* for our Joy* or woe, And In them life'* record* are written. Of all that we mortal* know. Aa the knight* who, olad in their armor, Went forth in the olden day* To war 'mid the down trod nation*, With wrong* that stood in their way*; Thua our thought in thi* dusky metal Are olad in their ooata of mail. To eonquer the wrong* that oppree* ua, Or evil* our folliea entail. The inn in it* golden glory, Went down 'neath the rim of night, And each leaden shape was gleaming In flame* of it* dying light; Then atar* in their ho*t* oame marching, And their ilver lanoee fell And flashed on the dnll, cold metal. Where truth* we know not dwell. A child in hi* feeble wisdom. Might place them with tiny hand. But a king with hi* ateel-armed legion* In vain would their force withstand; For they are the silent warriors, Whose tent* are folded away, Whose footprint* go down through the ages. Whose mandates the world shall obey. And a thought in my soul seemed striving, A* our own good angel strive*, To warm the day that infold* u* And wake from our sluggish live*, That we, too, are symbol* waiting The touch of the Master's hand, When the truth* that sleep within a* May light np each darkened land; And each cool in it* earthly Journey May toil with hope sublime, To leave for the anboru. nation* Great thought* on the toroU of time. —J. B. Bornrr , in OucfNs. The Misdirected Valentine. " IT II BHTTKJt AS IT 18." " It will soon be Valentine day," aaid pretty Roae Fleming to her cooain Frances, aa they sat by a glowing coal Are one cold evening early in February. "Would yon like to receive a valen tine, Miaa Rose?" asked Mr. Lindsay, a gentleman who was very often to bo found at the pleaeant fireside of the Fleming family. "Yea, I really should,'• answered Rose, blushing as she met bis gazo ; for Philip Lindsay possessed a pair of very expressive dark eyes. "Then I hope you will be fortunate enough to get one. And yon, Miss France* ?" he asked, turning to that young lady, "are you sufficiently un fashionable to wish to receive a valen tine?" The oolor deepened in the fair cheek of Frances ; bat she did not raise her dark eyes from her work, as she replied; " Well, yes; I mnst plead guilty to the fact I have not seen such a thing ainoe I was quite a little girl." Mr. Lindsay smiled at the avowal from the usually proud Miss Fleming; and said, as he rose to take leave: " Well, young ladies, I am going to New York to-morrow, and I hope before I return that Cupid will have been polite enough to remember you." "I will certainly show you mine if he does," said Rose, as he shook hands. Frances said nothing ; bnt her hand re ceived a warm pressure, and Philip Lindsay's parting glance was fixed on her ere he closed the door. " Isn't he handsome ?" exclaimed Roae, as soon as be had left the bouse. " Bo different from all our other visitors, too; he always has something interest ing to say." Hsr cousin did not seem to near these laudatory remarks, as she did not reply. "Frances, are you sleepy ? You don't answer me. Don't you like Philip Lindsay f" Frances looked np with a smile; that rare and radiant smile of hers, which waa like a •oft burst of sunlight when it shone over her usually composed countenance. "I hear you, dear; but I was lust trying to make up my mind about Mr. Lindsay; yea, I believe Ido like him." " Well, now that you have decided, let's go up stairs, for I want to go to sleep end dream of my valentine." " Xou silly Rosebud, do you really ex pect one ?" answered Frances, as die fuse and prepared to leave the room, holding her pretty work-basket in one hand, while the other arm was clasped lovingly round the slender waist of her eousin, whose lovely golden head only reached the shoulder of the stately, dark haired Frances. "Of course I do, and so do you, if you would confess it," and Rose laughed merrily aa they amended the stairs. The fourteenth of February dawned moat unpleasantly, with a drizzling rain falling, much to Rose's disgust, and she •woke early, thinking of her expected valentine. She knew the postman would not be round until ten o'elock, bnt, neverthe less, she took up her station at the win dow directly after breakfast At length be* patience was rewarded by the ap pearance of the dripping hat and oilskin cape of Oupid's messenger. " Hiss Frances Fleming, lfiss Bore Fleming," he said, handing in two large envelope*. "Oh, Frances," cried Rose, "oome here as fast as you can! Ob, what a beauty I" us she drew it from its eo- HlopA It was one of the prnttiaalof its kind, having in the eentor a tiny mirror, cun ningly inserted. While she was admir ing the pictures and devices round the border*; a note dropped from the in terior. It had no address, neither was it sealed, so she opened it with trem bling fingers. There was no beading; the writer rushed at pnoe into the sub " Pardon me that I have taken ad vantage of your wish to receive a valen tine to write whet has been trembling "7 Hp* for months. I love you; have loved you from the moment in which I first met the esse of your beau tiful eyes t I do pot expect you to re turn this lore st once; tut If there is any leaning in your heart toward me, I entreat you to fire me hope that you will one day reciprocate my affection. I will seek your presence on my return, and ooe glance from those lustrous orbs, in whose radiance I have so often sunned myself, will tell me whether I am to rejoice or to despair. Hoping you will piardon my presumption, I re main, ever anil always your devoted, " Fmnrp LINDSAY." Buch was the epistle that oovered Hose s face with blushes, and set her heart beating as in all her young life it had never beat before. Hhe could hardly believe her eyes! Philip loved her! Philip, the noblest, tiest of men ! Franoes entered as she stood with burning cheeks and radiant eye. " Oh I" she exclaimed, holding out the precious note, " I have got a real, true valentine." "Where is it?" asked Francos, look ing in amazement at her oousin's fare and then at the floor, on which lay the discarded valentine. "Oh. not that," said ltose ; "this is it," ami she gave her the note." "It is from Philip Lindsay ; read it, Franoes." Franoes sat down and opened it, turn ing palo as she read. What did it mean ? Philip loved Rose ? Impossible! And yett here wan no mistaking the meaning of his language. And there was his sig nature. Ob, happy Rose I and most un happy Frances! to have so deceived herself. Rose was startled at the sight of her pale face. " Are you ill, dear ?" she asked, put ting her arms rounu her oousin's neck. " No," she replied, all her pride com ing to her aid ; "I have only a slight headache." "Philip loves mo," Rose went on, "and I am no happy. I hare always loved him. France*, are yon not glad T Ton aaid yon liked Philip." And ahe laid her hand on her oonain'a ahonlder. France* trembled at her tonoh. At thia moment she almoet hated the girl, with her blno eyes and infantine graoes, bat her better nature trinmphed, and ahe bent and kiaaed the golden head. " Tee, Roaebnd, darling, I am glad. I hope yon will be happy. "lam the happiest girl in the world," answered Rose, with the tears glittering in her eyes. " lint, Frances, where is your valentine? Perhaps there ia a note for yon"— "Not from Philip, Rose." " No, bat from some one else." Frances shook her head, and opened the envelope, bat no note was to be found. " Let us go and tell snntie," said Rome, as she took her valentine from the floor ana left the room. Foor Frances! she stood for a mo ment to compose herself before going npstairs to listen anew to Rose's rhapso dies over her love letter. "Oh, Philip, Philip," she moaned, " why did yon make me love yon ? But yon are not to blame. It was my own selfish folly." She went slowly upstairs to her mother's room, and found that lady shed ding tears of joy over Rose's happy prospect* Mr* Fleming loved the pretty orphan whom her dead husband had left to her care almost as well as she did her own beantifnl Frances, and as the latter entered the room she said; " Franoes, I am so thankful that Rose's future ia secure. I have felt so anxious about the child; she will be safe with Philip Lindsay." A few evenings after the fourteenth Mr. Lindaay arrived in Baltimore and took his way to Mrs. Fleming's resi dence. He was aa Rose had said, very hand some, being tall and broad-shouldered, with rich chestnut hair, curling crisply around a well abaped head, while from his dear brown eyes a frank and fearless soul looked forth. As he entered the parlor Rose met him all smiles and blnahe* He shook bands cordially, and then looked ronnd aa though seeking some one else, but this was not what Rose expected; he said he would read her answer in her eyes, and he bad never looked at her. At length he sat down with a disap- K'nted expression of connLnanoe. le, poor child, timidly began a con versation by saying that "Frances had gone out of town for a few day*" " Clone out of town. Then she wishes t> avoid me," he thought. "It is all over." " Yes," answered Rose. " Her aunt has been wanting her to go for some time." No answer. "Oh," thought the girl, " I mnt have mistaken that letter; what shall I do?" Bhe began again. " I received a valentine after all, Mr. Lindsay." "Ah, indeed I I hope you were pleased with it," he answered, abstract edly. " Yea, I was very much pleased with it. Would you like te see it ?" she said, in a trembling voice. " Yea, if you please, Miss Rose," was the answer. Bhe brought the valentine and laid the note on the top of it Philip's face flashed as he saw it "Did you reoeive this note?" be asked, abruptly. "Yea," she answered, wondering!y. with tears in her eyes. He turned the envelope and looked at theaddree* " Oieat heavens 1" he thought, aa he crushed it in his hand, " what a terrible mistake I This cornea of my folly in getting any one to direct for me. And Franc* s, my lost love I she most have seen that I loved her I How base a creature moat she think me I" He forgot Rose in his despair, and only remembered bar existence when s low sob met his ear. Ho looked up and saw the poor child with her faee buried in her hand* while tears trickled through her slender fin ger* What did tt mean ? Ha looked at the crumpled not* "She thinks it WM meant for her. And can it be possible that she loves me ? I see it all. It la not her fault, and I must not let this innocent crea ture suffer from my folly." It wis tree; Rose lowed him, and at this moment was suffering agonies of wounded leve and pride. Philip bant over ber. " Rosebud," he whispered. She raised her eyes, now like violets wet with dew, and mat his gsse find upon ber, kindly, and yet Willi a certain pit* in it which, fortnnetely for her, she did not understand. "What a dewy Rosebud," he aaid; " why do yon cry f' " Oh, 1 waa glad to get your not®, it made me no hnppy, and—and"— "And whatf naid Philip. He aaw that thia fair floweret wan ready for hia aooeptanoe. Why ahonld he not gather it and wear it in hia bosom? "And yon thought I waa amuaing myself at your expenno—waa that itf Darling little Rosebud, I oould not be so crnel, no unmanly. And now," aa he held ont hia hands, "ia Iloaebnd mine ? Will she bloom for me alone?" She looked into his faoe with her in nooent blue eyes. " Oh, Philip, I have loved you from the first." He olaspud her in his arms, snd as ho kissed her he thought; "It will atone it ia right that I should suffer, bat she will be happy," Mrs. Fleming was delighted when she heard of the engagement; and as she had always liked Philip, when he pleaded for an early marriage ahe could uot refuse. Rut she insisted that Rose must havo time to get a handsome trousseau; his friends were wealthy, and she determined that her husband's niece should go among thorn in proper style. Ho Franoes was sent for, and it was finally arranged that the marriage should take place on the first of June. Franoes had suffered terribly during her abaeuce in the oountry, but no one had seen the struggle between love and pride, aad but few traces of it oould bo detected in her beautiful faoe. Philip, least of a?-, Miapectod it. Hhe met him oordially as s future cousin, and her congratulations to Rose were tender snd affectionate. Philip came to the oon clnsion that he bad been mistaken in supposing that she cared for him, and turned from the contemplation of her hanghty beauty to his bright little Rosebud, who fairly worshiped him and who seemed to grow lovelier every day. They had decided to go to Europe on their wedding tour, and Rose was anx ious that Frances should aooompany them, but the latter refused absolutely to leave her mother, and Philip was not sorry that she had so decided, aa he was not quite sure of his own heart yet On the evening before the wedding day, they all sat together in the moonlit parlor, where s soft breeze through the open windows struck the lace curtains, and through the room was the perfume of the roses and heliotropes, with which the vases were filled. ROM bad tagged them noi to light the KM, m she wanted to bear one of Fran ces' songs for the last time, with that lovely moonlight turning everything to beauty, and ahe n< tlod her golden head lovingly againet Philip's shoulder, a they eat on the aofa listening to the pathetio strains of ttchutart's exquisite songs. At length Franc** rose from the piano ; she was afraid that the bride elect was beooming melancholy, through the influence of moonlight and music together. ' Roaobnd- roaabad rvd. Ilowbad brightly blooming " she sang as she approached the aofa. "Come, * she went on, "our rosebud will not bloom brightly to-morrow if it does not close its petals early to-night." Roee waa very obedient as ahe got up and held out her hand to Philip to say good-night. He drew her to him, and kissing her fondly, whispered softly, "Good night, little wife! Frances turned away with a pang at her heart; ahe was only human, strive as she might to oonqner her feel ings ; and after leaving Rose in her mother's charge, she descended again to the parlor, desiring earnestly to be left slone for s little while; and certain that Philip had left the botiae, she stood by the window looking at the moonlight shining so peacefully down on the greet nnquiet city, end felt as though it was a rest to her wearied spirits to bathe her soul, aa it were, in the pure rays. As she stood thus, her gnw-ful head thrown back, her large dark eyes raised to the sky, and the moonlight giving to her motionless features the semblance of marble, ahe seemed like the statne of some beautiful saint, imploring pity and protection from heaven. Ho thought Philip Lindsay, aa, rising from the dark corner where he had been sitting, be softly approached 1 ber. She started at the sound of his footsteps. "Oh, Mr. Lindssy, I thought you hsd gone " I ought to have gone, bat it was ao delightful sitting there, enjoying the moonlight and perfume, that 1 hated to move," "It ia a perfect night," anawered Franoe*, "but yon will aae many such before yon return. You visit Italy, of course 7" "I intend to winter there, if Rone does not object" "Roee will not object to anything," anawered France*. " And, Mr. Lind say," she went on in a tremnlou* voice. " I need not ak you to be kind to onr Rosebud. It is not in your nature to be otherwise. But she is so young, and ia going ao far away from ua, that " And here the usually dignified Misa Fleming broke down, and bunt into tears. " Mis* Fleming I Franoe*!" cried Philip, "do not weep, 1 entreat. Yon surely do not doubt my love for your cousin 7" "No, never," the Mid, making a strong effort to oontrol her agitation ; and her mother coming in at this mo ment gave her an opportunity to eaoape to her room. "Oh, bow weak I am, "the exclaimed; " and bow wicked, that I cannot subdue ttiia unhappy love for one no noon to be the husband of my oousin I" And kneeling down she prayed for strength to overcome it and to be able to fulfill her duties on the morrow. And help oame, as it always does to those who try to do right; and she was again the state ly, composed Miss Fleming, looking superbly beautiful the next day in violet silk, with a whits etoak of ooatly lace enveloping her graceful form, nnd white flowers shining like stars in her dark hair. It was a quiet woddtng, and Bone was the prettiest of bridea, hi rich white silk, with a soft tulle viai! covering the whole of the little figure, sod enhancing, without concealing, the beauty of the fair girlish face with its innocent and childlike sweetness. A great many tsars wars shed at part iitg, and Franoas was the last to him the bride, who could not bear to leave her. At length Philip advanced, and Franoas held out her hand to aey good-bye. He took it in a trembling olaap, and then : _ " Mar I, Franoea —my oouain Frances 7" he naked, imploringly, plac ing his arm round Imr. Hbe started beck, her faoe flushing orlmaon. " Kiaa him, Franoea ?" aaid Itone. The girl hesitated ; but, unwilling to rex Rose on her wedding-dsy, she sub mitted to the embrace. Aa bis trembling lips touched liera she turned aa pale aa death, and tried to withdraw herself from liia encircling arm, " Forgive me, he whispered, and turning to Rose, placed her littlo hand on hia arm and passed out of the houae to the carriage without a word. Ho in the lovely month of rosea Philip and his fair littlo bride left the shores of America ; and her aunt and cousin missed the bright young creature who had been the sunshine of their home. They heard often from the travelers, and Rose's letters were filled with praises of Philip, but her happiness waa not complete without Franoea. At length the letters ceased, and Frances became alarmed lest Rose should be ill, when Philip wrote, late in October, begging Mrs. Fleming and her daughter to start at once for Rome —Rose was ill, having caught cold in crossing the Himnlon en route to Italy. Franoea was all impatienoe to leave. Hhe knew that Philip would not have t>een so argent for their presence if he had not been alarmed. " Oh, my Rose bud, yon will nover see home again," she thought, as she assisted her mother to pack the few belongings they in tended to take. Mrs. Fleming was aghast at the idea of going to Europe without a gentleman, but was some what reassured as she remembered the energy and aelf-relianoe of her daughter in canes of emergency; and they were soon on their way to Rome, which city they reached in Decern tier, and found the Lindsays settled in a hotel on the Piazza di Hpagna, Rut ah I what a change had oome over their blooming Rosebud, who lay back upon her pillows g< aping for breath, the round young form wasted to a shadow, while a bright hectic spot burned on one thin cheek, and her sweet blue eyes glittered with feverish luster. Poor little Rose I her short life was nearly ended now. The severe cold caught on the mountains had terminated in rapid decline, her lungs being weak from oonsnmption inherited from her mother Philip was haggard and worn with anxiety and watching, and oould not restrain his tears at the sight of the relatives from whom he bad taken their floweret in all its bright youDg bloom. And Rose I Her happiness was com plete now that Frances had on me. Hbe was perfectly resigned to die, and spoke of her departure with the ntmost com posure. "1 have had my share of happiness," she said to Frances, who hung over her in mute despair. "My short life lias been without a cloud. * If I had lived longer Philip might have died, or you, and then I oould not have borne to live after vou. Oomfort Philip, Frances, when lam gone. He has been so kind, so lenient to all my faults and follies. Tell him that be made me very happy, but be must not grieve for me. It is tatter as it is." And aoth little Rosebud faded from earth to bloom a perfect flower in the paradise above. But it ru hard to give her np and to carry home her senseless clay to the land from whence only nine month* before abe bad act forth a radiant, happy bride. Philip mourned for hi* fair vonng w fe, whom he had tenderly loved, and the thought that be bad done hi* dnty by her and never permitted her to guess hi* love for France*, comforted him now in hia bereavement. He retained to New York after the death of Roee and threw himaelf with ardor into the atndy of law, writing occasional letter* to Mr*. Fleming, which were anawered by ber daughter in a rather oonatrainod style. Rat Philip wa* biding hia time, and kept himaelf acquainted with all that happened in Baltimore. On the eve of the fourteenth of Feb ruary, two year* afterward, France* waa seated alone in the parlor, ber mother having retired with a headache. Bbe waa even more beautiful than when we flrat aaw her; all her haoghtinea* of manner baring given place to a tender, melancholy grace, and her dark eym were foil of a noftneaa which told of un abed tear*. She wa* very lonely to-night, thinking of poor little Ro*e, and wondering why all tbat beantv and brightness were per mitted to gladden the earth for so abort a time. And yet Roee waa happy; she bad, like Theela, tasted all tbe bliaa that life can offer—she had lived and loved. " Am I never to know it 7 Am I to pa** through life unloved 7" murmured Fran ce*. At this moment the bell rang, and a few moment* afterward abe beard tbe voiee of Philip Lindsay in tbe hall. How her heart beat aa he entered, and how her voice trembled as aba gave him greeting. " I suppose yon are surprised to see me 7" he asked, as tbey seated them selves. " Yea ; I had no idea yon were in town." " I name over for a abort time on par ticnlar business ; in fact," and be drew hia chair nearer to here, " I have a story to tell yon. Frances. It will not be eery long; I will go back no further than thki day three year* ago." She started, bnt remained silenk "I sent Boss's valentine,'' he went on; "bnt I also sent one to yon, and they ware misdirected. Do yon under stand ? Rose got the one with the note which I had written to yon. I bad asked a friend to direct for me, and ha made a mistake. Oan yon imagine my despair when I found it out, and dis covered at the same moment that ROM loved me I Whet could I do to repair suffered, bnt I kept my secret, and waa enabled to make that innocent child happy. Ton believe me, Franoee I" "Tea, I do believe yon; and I know that yon made BOM happy," answered Frances, with tears of Joy trembling in her dark eyes. the wrong, save by asking her to marry ma ? She accepted me—and I—wall —I "My noble Frauoat 11 knew that such would be your answer. And now, if yon were to receive that note to-night, what would be your answer T" And ha looked at her, hia brown ayes full of unutterable love—love such aa he never felt for bis fair child-wife. "Philip," she whispered, "I have loved you from the first." These were the same words which Rose had uttered on a similar occasion, forgotten that; forgotten > vcrything but the fact that Franoea was bis at last. " Philip," she said, as her graceful head rested against his heart, "Rose told me to comfort you." He kissed her as she spoke, and thought that Rosebud's dying words were true: "It is better aa it is." A Fight with a Tarantula. Texas natural history is not without novelties for the scientific or the cnrioos readers of more northern climee. Among them is a horned frog, which inhabits the prairies west of the Trinity ; from the tip of the brosd none arises a cimeter like born, sharp as a knife-point, and on which, if yon happen to step with the naked foot, in a puddle of water, a painful wound is received. Not infre quently has the otherwise-harmless little animal been forwarded to northern museums as a curiosity. But it isn't equal to another Texas creature—the tarantula. He is the desperado of the spider family ; frequently attains the size of the hand, and with its great, glaring, black eyes and frightful claws, seldom fails to present an appearance so formidable that a sensitive lady, even if used to seeing the tarantula, will scream at the sight. The taran tula is in fact only a big spider, and nsually makes bis home in the open prairie, dwelling with his family in a neat ocmoealed Y>cnoath the tall grass. If you tackle him in his retreat, you will very soon repent your temerity, for he springs at you like a tiger, jumping to an astonishing height, sometimes three or four feet. He is one of the most poisonous of the family of the arachnn, and bis bite is said to oe more fatal than that of the rattlesnake. In a settlement called Grapevine Prairie, near Fort Worth, some time ago, the son of a farmer named Peatherstone was one day occupied gathering rocks on the roadside. Upon overturning a large flat rock he was suddenly confronted by a large tarantula, the sine of a man a hand, snugly enaconoed In his nest along with a number of young taran tulas. The big one was yellow and black striped, and displayed the same inimitable colors that nature bestows on the "beautiful snake." Beixing a good-fixed stick, Master Feathenitone attacked the enemy in hia stronghold, and was met with an unexpected resist ance. He succeeded in breaking off one leg, or rather claw, of the devilflah of dry land, but the tarantula, enraged, sprang upon the aggressor, and, quick ss thought, with his great black eyes glittering with fiendish ferocity, fastened himself on the boy's band and arm. Before he could be dislodged, the tarantula had inflicted two probrblv fatal bites on the hand and arm, botli of which subsequently swelled to three times their natural sine, so virulent is the poison of this desperado of the prairies. The boy, however, succeeded in killing the tarantula. What Is ( orered by Izsnraßsf, People, when procuring inanranoe, are not particular cnongb in specifying the article* tbey wi*h covered by their policie* of insurance, ao tbat when a , Ore ocennj tbey find the property which they anppoaed wa* insnred ha* no in *nrance npon it. When a atore build ing ia insured, the fixture*, fitting np and counter* are not covered by the policy on the building, nnless *pecified, a* tbey are not oonsidered in law a part of the realty. If a atock of merchandise ia inaured, tbe fixtures, counter*, show caeca, stoves, iron eaten, acale* and weight* are not covered nnleaa apecifled and a specific amount pat apon them. When the oontent* of a dwelling are insured, the term "boonebold furni ture " ia a venr comprehensive one, and includes nearly everything ordinarily n*ed by a iamily in hooaekeeping, and in now held to include a pianoforte, al though it ia better to have a *jeeiflo amount upon it. It doe* not, of course, include family wearing-apparel or pro vision*. which mn*t be named separate ly, neither doe* it include silverware, painting*, picture*, jewelry, mclodeon, book*, watd be* or fancy articles, all of which, to ha covered by tbe policy, must be named separately and have a speci fied amount upon each. When tbe contents of a barn are in aured they should be apecifled, aa ao much on bay and grain, such an amonnt mi ao many horses, cows or oxen, nam ing the number, and have the amonnt specified that ia to be paid on each in esse of partial loaa When a fire occurs and the sufferer find* that many articles are not covered by bta policy which be supposed were insured, he censure* the insurance company or the agents, when the fault, if any, ia that he t not suffi ciently explicit in apecifying the proper ty he desire* to get insured.— Warwick Adv*rti*r. Tbe H reel est Firm London, in Ifififi—l3,3oo building* destroyed; lon*. •86,000,000. Moscow. IRIS BO,BOO buildings burned: loea, 1160,000,000. Only 6,000 honaea left standing. Bavannah, 1830 463 building* burned; loss, 18,000,000. New York, 1836 648 buildings burned; loos, 118.000,000. Pittsburgh, 1846 - 1,300 building* burned; loea, 16,000,000. St. Lcmia, 1848-418 buildings and twenty-seven steamboats burned: loaa 86,000,000. Sea Francises. 1851—4,600 building* burned; loea, f17.000.00a Constantinople, 1861 8,600 build ing* burned. Hamburg, 1852 - 1,747 building* burned. Portland, 1860 - 1,600 building* burned; loo* above inturaooa, 86,600,• 000. ConsUi *tu tple, 1870 Over 7,000 building* burM; 1.000 Uvea and f36,- 000.000 worth of property lost Chicago, Oct., 1871—South and north aides almost completely tamed over: lose, 6126,000.000. Boston, 1676—A fourth of buaineaa portion of the city destroyed; loea, fM,- the cheat diahoad fraud. "•*" • Ik Una Wlw ImHm4 t fwfaa* fc Kalilat ■ Wmm Talln wfui Jewels -*"•! (fit* Mm*. A letter trim Louisville, Ky.. ma- tioue the death of Philip Arnold at hi* * besntifal home in Elizabeth town, that Btate, and eontinnea: Beven or eight ▼ears ago Arnold's diamond mine specu lation made his name as well known throughout the world m was ever that of John Law or any other ebrewd la-hnmo who snooMwfnlly imposed on crednloas npeculators. Arnold was born in Hardin county about fifty years ago, and was bred there, being apprenticed to a hat ter. He ran away Wore his term of „ service expired, and enlisted aa a soldier * in the Mexican war. After peace waa declared he went to California, Mod re mained there nntil 18T1, when be ap- Kred in Elizabeth town and opened a re account in the local bank. It wm said that he had discovered an immenae diamond field in California, and oome borne to enjoy, among old friends, the frnita of bis good fort one. Hpeedi ly, however, on the heels of this rumor, came the allegations of J. B. Cooper, a Han Francisco bookkeeper, who made affidavit that the diamond field waa a gigantic swindle that Arnold had plan ned and persuaded him to help carry out. Arnold sailed for Enrope with soma 940,000, and bribed two sailors to go among the London jewelers and buy what diamonds they oonld in the rough. He got together in this way >87,000 worth of cheap stones, something like s bushel in qnantity, and sailed back to California. Home months afterward a number of wealthy Han Pranciaoo specu lators, among whom were William Ral ston and William M. Lent, were told that Arnold and a friend of his named Blah, also an Elizabeth town boy, had stumbled upon a valley in which dia-. monds, sapphires, and gems of various kinds and values were to be picked up with only the tronble of stooping for them. The lucky finders had a bagful of the jewels in their possession that they claimed to have gathered in the valley, and they were displayed in snch profusion that one of the speculators says that they oovered one end of a bil liard table an inch deep. Arnold took hia bag of gems to New Tork, and a company with a capital of 810,000,090 was suggested to work the mine. Nearly SIOO,OOO worth of stock was subscribed, and Henry Jan in, an expert, was engaged to explore the val ley and report upon the prospect. Ar nold led the expedition that wae fitted out for the purpose. They started from Denver, OoL, on May 38, 1872, and after traveling for nine days, Arnold teld them they were on the spot. They afterward ascertained that they were only thirty miles from the point of de- Srtnre. But the valley more than ful led their wildest anticipation*. They spent seven days there, and gathered in that time 1,000 carats of diamonds and 6,000 carats of other precious stones. Jan in'a report was an enthusiastic one. There had already been paid $260,000 to Arnold, and on Jan in'a report $400,- 000 worth of st eted from the body.