OIE DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA:
Thursday Morning, December U, 1862.
VTOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW.
BY JOBS a. SAXE.
I.
1 know * Rirl with teeth of pearl,
And -"boulder* white as snow ;
She lives—ah ! well,
I irud not tell—
Wouldn't you like lo know T
11.
Her sunny hair is wondrous fair,
And wavy in its flow ;
Who made it lens
One little tress.
Wouldn't you like to know?
til.
Her eves are Glue (celestial hue!)
And dazzling in their glow ;
On whom they beam
With melting gleam.
Wouldu t you like to know ?
IV -
Her lips are red and finely wed
Like roses ere they blow ;
What lover sips
Those dewy lips.
Wouldu t you like to know ?
v.
Her fingers are like lilies,
When lilies lairest grow ;
Whose hand they press
With loud caress.
Wouldn't )ou like to kuuw ?
VI.
Her loot is small, and has a fall
Like suowtlakes ou the suow ;
And while ll goes,
beneath the lose.
Wouldn't yuU like to know ?
VII.
She has a name, the sweetest name
That language can bestow ;
'Twould break the spell
][ 1 should tell—
Wouldn't you like to know ?
gliste Uaiteuas.
The Mysterious Kolbeiies.
A DETECTIVE'S STOKY.
While sitting alune in my office one dull,
dark, drizzly October afternoon, indulging
in the luxury of a quiet smuke, the dour
opened in a timid, hesitating manner, and
an old, wrinkled, gray-headed man, poorly
and shabbily dressed, shullled in, and throw
ing the glance of what was still a keen,
restless, suspicious black eye over my per
son, said in a subdued and what sounded
like a humble tone, that he called to see Mr.
George Larkin.
" That is my name, sir," returned I ;
"pray step forward and take a seat."
The old man seemed to hesitate a mo
ment, eyed me sharply, glanced warily
about the apartment, and then observed as
he walked furward and sat down near me :
" I hope we are alune, Mr. Larkin, for
my business concerns only our two selves."
" We are quite alone, sir, as you see."
" But sometimes, I am told," be
hesitatingly, " tlcse kind of places—l beg
your panlo i ! 1 mean no offense to you—
sometimes, 1 say, I am told, these places
are •omtrived l'ur secret listeners."
"But I have assured you, sir." I replied
rather coldly, " that we are alune here, and
if you duiibt my word, perhaps yuu hud bet
ter carry your secret, whatever it is, away
with yuu."
"Well, well," he rejoined, somewhat has
tily, " never mind ; 1 will take you." word ;
1 will trust you. And 1 have good authori
ty for doing so. too," lie added, partly 80-
Idoquieiug -and partly addressing me,
"You see, Mr. Larkin, as tlrere is to be
confidence between us, it is no more than
fair to tell you that 1 have been to a magis
trate, asking for a trusty and secret police
agent, of superior cunning and intelligence,
and that Mr. George Larkin was named as
the individual on whom 1 could rely in eve
ry particular."
" 1 am much obliged to the magistrate,
whoever he is, for his good opinion and re
commendation," 1 answered with a slight
bow. "And now, sir, if you are satistied,
I am prepared to hearyour communication."
Again the old man hesitated and eyed me
keenly, and turned somewhat pale at the
thought of what he was about to divulge ;
bat at last, as if pressed by necessity, he
seemed to put his scruples aside, and said :
"Mr. Larkiti, I am an old man, as you see,
and perhaps a rather eccentric one, as you
may discover. Old as I am, lam alone in
the world, having neither wife nor child,
only some distant relations who do not care
for mo," (here he glanced his keen eyes sus
piciously around him, leaned forward and
whispered in iny ear) "1 have gold—much
gold—gold enough to—to—. Well, no
matter."
1 looked at the old man as he paused, and
I said, while debating in my own mind
whether he wits sane or monomaniac, "Well,
sir, what has this gold to do with me ?"
" Let me confess to you," he pursued,
" since I have never told to mortal ear, that
I love gol —adore gold—and that I am
what the world, if it knew, woulJ call a
miser."
" Then you are to be pitied," said I.
He fastened upon me a strange, startled,
searching look, as if he doubted the sinceri
ty of my words, the sentiment of which was
beyond his comprehension, it being impos
sible for him to understand how a miser—
a man having actual heaps of gold—could
b' in any degree a subject of pity.
" Yes," he resumed at length, "I never
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
...... | j %jj trtisusiim "AUA'I 7RK\ prrtts ff•" .
saw any human being that I liked as well
as myself ; but gold, silver money, the coin
of the realm, of all realms, I 1 ke better."
" Well," returned I, now fully convinced
that the old man was not in his right mind,
" 1 do not see what this has to do with me."
" Ay, ay, I am coming to that, Mr. Lar
kin ; lam coming to that. You see, being
alone in the world, and loving nothing but
my gold—years ago—a great many years
ago, you see—l bought an old, tumble-down
house on the outskirts. Heavens ! what a
price I had to pay for it, too ! two hundred
pounds, sir—for that house and a bit of
land, and all in hard gold, too ! ah, me !
Well, as 1 was saying, 1 bought the house,
and then went to work myself, and with my
own hands, that I might not pay out any
more money and have anybody know my
secret, 1 constructed a safe—a fire-proof
safe—and then had an iron door made for
it, with a lock that no one could open with
out the key and secret of him who had luck
ed it. This done, 1 sold all the property
which 1 had inherited, converted it into
gold, put the gold in leather bags (another
expensive luxury ?), and secretly deposited
them in my safe. Since then I nave dress
ed like a beggar, and lived alone with my
gold, the sight of which has given me hours
of rapture, and the jingle of which has fill
ed my ears with a delight that 1 cannot ex
press. Well, sir, well, sir," continued the
old man, fairly trembling at the thought,
"1 now come to the painful business which
has brought me here ! Ah, me ! ah, me !
1 wonder if it has nut driven me mad ! For
years, Mr. Larkin, for years, sir, 1 lived
alone with my gold, and kept my secret and
nobody found me out ; but of late, sir,
(Heaven be merciful !) I have been robbed
—robbed, sir, of my gold, of my gold, Mr.
Larkin."
" Then I suppose you are now a poor
man ?" said I, " How was your house bro
ken into ? Give rue the most minute par
ticulars —for it is often by the merest tri
fles that we detectives are able to get the
clue that leads to the greatest results."
" Ah ! there it is, sir—there is the mys
tery !" groaned the old man. "You are
mistaken, Mr. Larkin, in supposing that I
am literally a poor man, or that my house
has been broken into at all, so far as 1 can
discover. No, sir—no ! The money has
been taken—several times—a bag at a time
—and yet nothing has bt en disturbed. My
doors and windows, which I have always
bolted as well as locked, I have never found
unbolted or unlocked, which must have been
the case if any one had come in that way.
And then my safe is always found just as I
leave it, and the key fastened to my body
by an iron chain. 'The first bag of gold I
missed, (oh heaven, be merciful !) was
about two months ago, and 1 could not be
lieve it was gone till 1 had counted the re
maining bags over and over, perhaps fifty
times.
" Then I tried to believe I had taken it
myself, mislaid it, and 1 spent two days in
searching the whole house—every nook and
cranny—every likely and unlikely place.—
Well, sir, a week went along, and another
bag was missing. Horrible mystery ! Since
then 1 have lost three more—the last one
last night—and human nature can endure
it no more. Oh, sir, find out the thief, and
restore me my missing gold, and I will—
will—will worship you, sir."
I smiled at the idea of getting a miser's
worship in return for my trouble of detect
ing a mysterious thief, and restoring the
owner a large amount of gold ; and 1 said
facetiously : " Unquestionably what you
offer is very valuable in your own estima
tion ; but neither a miser's blessing nor
curse will pass current for rent, food or
clothing. No, Mr. —a—"
" Brandish—Stephen Brandish."
"Nosir; Mr. Brandish, if I undertake
this business of detecting this secret thief,
and get back your money, or any portion
of it, I must be paid in gold—gold, sir, gold
—for I, too, like gold, though for what it
will buy, and not to worship."
For a long time we could not agree upon
terms ; but at last having got the matter
settled to my satisfaction, 1 entered will
great zest into the penetration and unravel
ment of what was really a very wonderful
mystery. That night after dark 1 made my
appearance at the miser's house ; and be
ing admitted, and the door secured, I be
gan my inspection of the premises 1 went
i up to the roof, and down to the cellar,
searching minutely all the walls, doors and
ceilmgs, for some possible place where a
thief might enter or secrete himself. The
house was an old, crazy structure, sure
enough ; but I found nothing to give a clue
!to the mystery. The doors and windows
i were all bolted on the inside, and the bolts,
I 1 assured myself by a close examination,
! were all sound and in good order. In the
■ cellar was a well from which the old man
drew what water he used, and I satisfied
myself there was nothing suspicious about
that. Then I went round the walls and
tried every stone of any size, to see if it
might be removed ; but all were fast and
solid. At last I came to the money safe,
which was curiously built in the ground
with the iron door upwards, like a trap
door, which was effectually concealed by
scattered dirt over it.
" I must see the inside of this," said I.
" Oh, sir !" returned thd old miser, trem
bling at the thought of exposing his riches,
" you will not take advantage of an old
man 1 You will not betray me 1 You will
promise this ; you will swear it !"
I might have got offended at this ques
tion of my honesty from another ; but I took
into consideration the peculiarities of the
afflicted miser, and readily promised all he
required, even g*oing so far as to take an
oath of secrecy. At last, after much hesi
tation and demurring, he ventured to ex
pose the interior of the safe to my gaze.—
It contained twenty-iive heavy bags of
gold, with a large amount of silver thrown
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. GOODRICH.
ia loosely ; but the bottom, sides and all
parts of it save the iron door, were com
posed of thick granite, perfectly cemented,
and had never been disturbed since being
put together.
My inspection of the house was now com
pleted, but without gaining the slightest
clue to the mystery of the robberies. I
could discover no place where any one
could have entered, and there was ceitain
ly no one concealed in the house. I ques
tioned the miser as to who had visited him;
but he positively declared that, myself ex
cepted, I was the only one he had permit
ted to cross his threshold, since taking up
his solitary abode there. I was at a stand.
I knew not what to suggest. Had but one
bag been missing, or had lie only been rob
bed once, the matter would have seemed
susceptible of some rational solution, but
to be robbed five several times at irregular
intervals, and the thief to be so forbearing
as to take only a comparatively small por
tion at each time, and then withal leave no
trace save the loss, of his having been there
—this it was that puzzled and perplexed
me exceedingly. 1 finally went away, at a
late hour, promising to give the matter my
serious consideration, and the old man
agreeing to communicate with me imme
diately on the occurrence of anything new.
In a few days the miser was rubbed
again, and in spite of all that I could do he
Continued to be robbed, at longer or short
er period-, for several months, until, in fact,
only ten bags of gold remained. By this j
time he was wasted almost to a skeleton
through grief at his loss, and I had become
so nervous and superstitious that 1 looked
to see a ghost every time I visited the
dwelling. What could it mean ? 1 had
spent days and nights in the house —had
arranged matters so that I could come and j
go as I pleased, at all hours, secretly and
openly—and yet, though 1 hal used thi~ J
freedom, and had been an almost constant
spy upon the premises, I had failed to de-1
tect the slightest clue to the thief. Surely j
it could not be the work of human hands ! ]
and the thought of the supernatural made
my blood run cold.
One night I retired to bed, terribly per
plexed with this mystery ; and after rolling
and tossing about for a long time, I fell
asleep, and dreamed I was in the miser's J
house, on the watch, and that I saw him j
get up, go to his safe, unlock it, take out a
bag of gold, drop it in the well, relock his 1
safe, and return to his bed.
" That is it!" 1 cried, leaping out upon j
the floor, " I have it now ! The wretched i
man is a sleep-walker, and had all along
been robbing himself! Why have I not
thought of this before ?"
I dressed in haste, and set off. night
though it was, to ascertain the truth of my
new conjecture. I reached the gloomy
house, went in, and found the miser was
not in bed. I hurried down stairs, and by
the light of my lantern, beheld him stretch
ed out upon the ground near the well, with
a bag of gold in his hand. I spoke to him,
but he did not answer. 1 touched him, but
ho did not stir. I stooped down, took hold
of his wrist, felt of his pulse, and started
up in horror.
He was dead! He had died in the act of
robbing himself!
The mystery WHS solved, my dream had
revealed the truth, and the missing bags of
gold were all found at the bottom of the
well. The whole was taken possession of
by the authorities, and I received my just
due for services rendered.
IIIXDOO IDEA OF HCMBOLDT.—A Silicsian
resident at Calcutta favors the papers of
his native Breslau with a biographia of Hum
boldt in the Hindoo dialect. The conclud
ing lines of the biography furnish an idea
oi the style :
" He was planted in the garden of Chita,
who tended him with especial care in return
for the love he bestowed upon her children
(the plants.) She would fain have pre
served him as long as possible fur her gard
en ; but as he grew older he increased in
fragrance until his odor finally rose to the
throne of Brahma, and the great God called
him to his own celestial groves. Then Hum
boldt went up, but the seed of his fruits was
spread over the fields of God that it might
produce new pupils to propagate his doc
trine, which is a doctrine derived from the
revealed book of nature. How beautiful
must be nature. How beautiful must be
nature in a country that could have pro
duced such a man ! 0, thou blessed Ger
many !"
ARTF.MAS WARD ON THE INDIANS. —The red
man of the forest was formerly a very re
spectable person. Justice to the noble ab
orgine warrants me in saying that orig
gernally ho was a majestic customer.
At the time Chris, arrove on those shores,
(I allude to Chris. Columbus,) the savages
were virtuous and happy. They were in
j nocent of secession, rum. draw poker, and
i sinfulness generally. They had no Cou
-1 gress, faro banks, delirium tremens or As
sociated Press. Their habits were conse
quently good. Late suppers, dyspepsia,
gas companies, thieves,ward policians, and
other metropolitan refinements were un
known among them. No savage in good
standing would take postage stamps—you
couldn't have bought a coon skin with a
barrel of 'em.
A Blacksmith was lately summoned
to a country court as a dispute between
two of his workmen.
The Judge, after hearing the testimony,
asked him why he did not advise them to
settle, as the cost had already amounted to
three times the disputed sum. He re
plied :
" I told the fools to settle ; for I said the
clerks would take their coats, the lawyers
their shirts, and if they got into your hon
or's court you'd skin 'em.
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANV QUARTER."
A Bachelor's Diary.
LOOKING in the dictionary, I find there
woman, a noun, barbarously derived, ob
scurely defined, and bolstered up by a num
ber of poetical quotations of which lovely
woman heads the list. The dictionary is
evidently puzzled ; and well it may be ;
wiser ones than the dictionary have mud
dled their brains on the subject. Men don't
dare come out boldly and say, " Woman an
improper noun, meaning the root of all mis
chief," because they are sure to have a slip
of it at home. Even I, old bachelor as I
am, am outwardly excessively civil to the
pretty little serpents, remembering that my
landlady, my laundress, and my mother all
belong to the objectionable class,but I make
a private note of my opinions, and intended
to run it over every morning before going
down to breakfast, feeling that I ain at
present in a situation where, as human and
especially bachelor nature is weak, 1 might
be tempted to fall away from my princi
ples.
llow on earth it happened that I accept
ed Fred Sinclair's invitation, 1 don't know.
Ho is a married man, and ha's one of the
prettiest places on the Hudson. I might
have known that the house would be full of
visitors in June and July ; but at least 1
could hardly be expected t< guess that the
majority of these visitors would be women
—not matrons, with pinched noses and care
ful mouths ; not cozy old grandmothers, or
even old maids, but young \v. men, young
and shamelessly pretty ; live of them, as i
am a bachelor, and hope to remain so, and
only two of my persuasion to keep me in
countenance, George and Hal Gubijer. They
say they like it ; 1 wish 1 did.
Now, I am going to make a confession.
I dislike these lovely torments on principle
and in the lump ; individually, I can't help
admiring them, for my life. We have here
Lou and Vivia Baracole. Bello Bayadere,
Del 0 rgandie, and Lute Fina. lam contin
ually watching them, and 1 believe the tor
ments know it and put out a little arched
foot, or let a sleeve fall back from a round
ed arm purposely to aggravate me. They
will group themselves together in the pret
tiest manner ; they will put t >eir blonde ai d t
brunette heads together, and confound me
with the glories of night and morning side
by side Some one is perpetually blushing
or pouting, or letting long eyelashes full
over eyes black, blue, or grey ; or showing
me a little round chin, or a pink-tipped ear,
keeping me thereby in a constant flutter and
tremor of admiration. I think 1 might write
a treatise on the circulation of the blood, if
watching its pulse, and surge, and recede,
flushing from the pale pink of a shell to the
bloom of a peach, in fair young checks,
could qualify me ; or < n mantua-making,
such an expert am I becoming in their mus
lin mysteries ; their little collars, their fil
my handkerchiefs, their bows and sashes,
their belts and clasps, their thousand and
one man-traps that they have the effrontery
to spring on us under our very noses.—
Fancy a man possessed of a muslin devil ;
haunted by ankles and Balmoral boots, cun
ning little trimmed pockets and Zouave
shirts ! What miseral le frivolity and waste
of time. But the last, the worst, tlu most
unendurable of all these irritants, is Del
Organdie.
Her characteristics I admire in the ab
stract, but consider them as, combined in
her, reprehensible and pernicious in the
highest degree. She has brown hair of the
sort that flames out here and there with a
deep golden tinge, line, and soft and long ;
beautiful hair in itself, but what right has
she to encroach on ruy time with it ? It
has a basilisk fascination for me. 1 watch,
perforce, where it comes in little ripples on
the white shore of her forehead, 1 wonder
within myself at the brow, and the possi
bility of the smooth rolls brushed away " a
la Vimperatrice," then she will never settle
on any particular mode of arranging what
woman call in their detestable jargon, their
" back hair." One day it is twined around
in soft coils ; the next, in wide shining
braids, and once it tumbled down ; (de
signedly I know) all abut her shoulders
and down her slender waist.—Never tell me
that it was an accident : she knew that
those golden brown waves would not let
me sleep that night ; and she put in her
comb loosely, in malice prepense. She
should have been indicted and fined, she
would have been had I had anything to do
with the law tinkering. Women ought to
le obliged to have their hair cropped, or
else be condemned to solitary confinement.
These beautiful, shining, waving tresses,
are nothing on earth but bachelor traps ;
but 1 hold men deserve all they suffer, since
the power is in our own hands, and we take
no measures for self-defence
Del (I mean Miss Organdie, I have a bad
habit of calling her Del to myself, which
must be corrected,) has another objectiona
ble feature : her eyes. They are grey, of
the sort that darken almost into black or
i melt into blue. There is often a look in
them of a clear shining such as you see in
the western sky after a gentle rain ; she
has another look that 1 have seen in a
'child's eyes just waked from a sweet sleep,
before the first smile curves its scarlet ; the
sweet end solemn mystery of an innocent
soul that has just passed through the gates
of a world, barred against our heavier
tread.
She has a third ; a wirked sparkle, and
merry malice that I like best. Then I can
defy her, and tell her all the spiteful things
I think about her.
Dark lashes shade these reprehensible
eyes ; long aud sweeping out on the white
cheek in away that- doubtless she thinks
pretty ; black brows arch above them,mak
ing her wide forehead all the whiter ; no
doubt she considered herself a belle.
.The has email hands white with taper
fingers, the nails round and rosy like little
bits of pink shell. I wish she would wear
gloves, or keep them out of sight, for I am ■
so annoyed by them that I feel a constant j
temptation to cover them with my owu.— J
Bachelor traps of the most dangerous kind
are they ? they are sure to be busy with a j
crotchet-needle or brought out in relief on
the dark cover of a book, or folded like nest- j
ling doves in her lap ; a nuisance and a 1
snare I consider them. She has a little foot |
besides, arched and high,and she wears del-!
icate little boots, and heeled slippers, half!
burried in rosettes. Worse than all, she
lifts her dress when walking in the garden,
or promenades the piazza in a gale, or clam
bers up and down places intended only for ■
goats, and show them
There she is now. I can see her from my j
window, going up and down tho piazza un
der that jaunty little hat with its long
feather, humming to hereself, and clicking
her boot heels to mark the time. Bestless
thing ; she is like a bird or bee on the
wing ; she has gone into the garden Why,
on earth, can't she walk ? She goes with
a run and whirl of her sweeping dress tread
ing lightly, as if she went on springs. She
has picked a rose, two of them ; wasteful
creature ! See, she is considering where
to put thorn, in her hair, on her bosom, or in
her belt. The belt carries the day ; there
are the roses against her heart. What ut
ter frivolity and vanity 1 and how perni
cious in its effects ! 1 promised to read up
in law while I was here, but Chitty knows
bebt how many of his pages I have turned
since I have been here. llow could I?
Study demands calm and serenity of mind.
lam continually annoyed. There she goes;
site has taken the path to the rivor ! 1 am
going to smoke a cigar, and tranqudize my
nerves. This room is intolerable.
Keal'y this is a most uncharitable world.
Vivia Baracole and Lute Fina. But stop ;
let rue think how it all was.
I went to smoke in the ground, of course,
I don't consider it polite to smoke in the
rooms, or on tho piazza, where there are
ladies. Thinking and smoking, 1 strolled
along ; not noticing the road I took 1 found
myself on the shore. She sat there—l
couldn't do less than speak, after nearly
stepping on her. She made rooui for me
on the bench—seemed to expect me to take
a seat beside her ; but she was in no hurry
to talk. She was looking out over the wa
ter, with the solemn child look that I have
mentioned. I could smoke my cigar anc
look at the flickering of her lashes, the ebb
I of faint color in her cheek, the rise and full
of the lace on her while neck, the uncon
scious movements of her little grasping lin
gers, holding idly two or three roses.—
When she did speak, she proposed to walk
to some miserable waterfall, that can't flow
along like a decent, well couducted brook,
! but comes plunging down a hill, tearing
out a bed for itself, and leaving just the
narrowest ledge for a path. 1 couldn't in
common politeness refuse to go, and of
course I offered to help her up the ledge.—
Her hand rested in mine ; and such a little
warm, white and rosy clinging thing it was.
When we reached the top she was out ol
breath, and we sat down ; the pines that
shade it made of it a cool, temple-Ike place;
the water did look pretty, foaming over the
rucks ; but still that don't quite pav for the
way in which 1 enjoyed it 1 like Neptune
will enough,but lain not fanatical about her;
we sat on a little very damp earth, und a
great deal of stone ; there was a toad—to
which I have an aversion—hopping about
in away suggestive of lauding in my lap ;
I took two worms off my arm, and a a spi
der from Miss Organdie's shoulder ; as for
the conversation, here it is :
" Ah ! 1 am so tired."
" Yes. The walk is steep."
" 1 believe 1 have cut my slipper"—half
showing -the nonsensical little thing that
she calls by that name.
" You should have worn your Balmoral
boots. Young girls are always so impru
dent. We sliuuld die from one half as much
exposure."
" Oh 1 but I didn't think of coming
here !"
Fausc—Del looking off at nothing in par
ticular ; I, at —but that is nobody's busi
ness, and I don't believe in so many details.
Another conversation ripple.
" llow peaceful it is 1"
" Yes."
That was all ; but the ten minutes spent
there are the most delicious of my life.—
Then we went home. Vivia Baracole and
Lute Fina were on the piazza and saw us
Come. Del sank down on a seat with a sigh.
" Have you been lar V asked Lute, sym
pathizingly.
" Only to the fall."
The girls exchanged looks.
" Why, you have been gone two hours ?"
"Two?" (in large capitals.) '' Wliy vvc
wore only there ten minutes. Were we not,
Mr. Wayne 2"
" Tha- was all by my watch."
" For bliss aud Irisli watches have the power,
In twenty minutes to lose half an hour."
said Vivia, half under her breath, to Pina,
as if talking of something that had no pos
sible connection with us.
Del grew crimson. As for me, lam do
j termined to leave this place immediately.
Bliss aud myself mentioned in the same
connection is a little too much. It was a
conspirajy done to annoy me. Del can
blush on all occasions. I will go—no, I
won't. Bun away from a parcel of women,
inferior, frivolous beiugs, whose very exist
ence hangs on a ribbon ; not I, 1 will as
sert my independence. There goes Del
across the hall ; she has gone into the li
brary. 1 kcow the sound of the duo. Well,
I shall go there, too. It has been my cus
tom to read there at this hour of the day,
always. 1 was here three days before Del
came, and the thing became a habit. I
wou't give it up for any crinoline that ever
filled up a whole sola, and overflowed in
two chairs besides.
Trapped ! caught ! undone ! walked in
VOL. XXIII. —NO. 28.
with my eyes wide opon, and nibbled the
bait, staring at the spring that was to
shut down on me, while I did it.
l)el was in the library—more than that,
she brushed away a tear or two from her
long lashes, as I sat down. I sat close
by her ; for it looks as if people had quar
reled when they station themselves at the
antipodes of the room.
I asked what was the matter ; because I
had an instinctive idea that it was some
thing about—us—me.
" Nothing," was the answer. And then
a blush rose in her cheek, crimsoned, deep
ened, flamed out quickly. She put up her
hands instinctively to cover her face, and
recollecting herself, put them down again.
I took one of the hands (it seemed quite
natural to do so,) and said something—l
don't remember what—it was probably too
foolish to repeat.
The pretty head dropped,in answer, down
to my shoulder, where it rest d.
Poor little darling ! Vivia and Lute had
been teasing her pitilessly. Then I had
never spoken a word of love to her ; and
what could I think of what had been said
on the piazza ? and these afflicting consid
erations make the soft eyes brim over, and
the fair check flush and burn under my
questioning gaze.
Poor child ! how could I have called her
a bachelor trap.
Extract of a Letter frm Yorktown.
YORKTOWN, Y A., Wednesday eve. (
Nov. 26,1662. (
* * * We Lave just returned
from an expedition to Matthews County,
Ya. We left Yorktown last Saturday night
about nine o'clock. Landed at William's
Landing, Sunday 10 o'clock, A. M. This
was very unexpected to the inhabitants of
that place, it being the first time Union
troops ever landed in their neighborhood.
They (the Rebels) had but a small force of
cavalry there, not enough to dare venture
out and take a brush with us. Our force
consisted of about 450 men, besides a gun
boat that we went on. The object of this
trip was to destroy a number of salt works,
that were being carried on for the use of
the Rebel army. We destroyed several
hundred bushels of salt, demolished their
works, and broke up their kettles ; took all
those engaged in the business, brought
them before the Captain of the gun boat,
made them take the oath of allegiance, and
then let them go. By this time I expect
they are at it again. Co. E and Co. K of
the 52d Regiment were ordered to the house
of a Mr. £milh. The family were taken by
surprise, not knowing that Union troops
were about, and did not see us until we
were close upon them. This Mr. Smith, by
the way, was a very rich man, having
about a hundred bushels of salt in his cel
lar, which was soon destroyed, besides a
great quantity of whisky, that was to be
sent to Richmond the next day. We brought
the old gentleman away with us. Such a
fuss as his family made, I never heard in
my life. He was a widower with a large
family of girls. Meeting our Captain (G.
P. Davis) at the door, he was soon told
what was wanted of him ; he at ouce re
fused to go with us. Myself, with another
of our Company, was ordered to accompany
him for his coat and hat. Such a howling
as the girls made. One says, " What are
3 7 0u going to do with Pa ?" 1 told her we
would not hurt him. She says, "Oh ! you
Devils, what have we done?" Two of the
girls had beaux ; they flew out the back
door and hid. A squad of skirmishers were
sent out and brought them in. They, too,
had to part with the girls. It was a very
touching scene. I never want to witness
the like again.
Their damage was estimated at about
thirty thousand dollars. We burned three
small vessels that we could not bring away
with us. We were gone two days and nights.
JOHN C. MAY,
Co. E, 52d lteg't., P. V.
THE BLUES. —Cheerfulness and Occupa
tion are closely allied. Idle men are rarely
happy. How should they be ? The brain
and muscles were made for action, and nei
ther can be healthy without vigorous exer
cise. Into the lazy brain, crawl spider-like
fancies, filling it with cobwebs, that shut
out the light, and make it a fit abode for
" loathed Melancholy." Invite the stout
handed maiden, brisk and busy Thought,
int > the intellectual chamber, and she will
soon brush away such unhealthy tenants.
Blessed be work, whether it be of the head
or the hand, or both.
An Englishman boasting to an Irish
man that porter was meat and drink, soon
after became very drunk, and returning
home fell into a ditch, when Pat discover
ing him exclaimed :
"An faith, an you said it was mate and
drink to ye ; and by me sowl it's a tnuc h
better thing, for it's washing and lodgiv.g,
too."
83?" I say, landlord, that's a dirty towel
to wipe on !"
Landlord with a look of amazement re
plied :
"Well, I swan, jmu're mighty particrjisr.
Sixty or seventy have wiped on that t.owel,
and you are the first one to fiud fau',t with
it."
Why arc rats better than tomatoes ?
j Because tomatoes make only catsup, while
rats make a cat supper.
J®-;; Sam, how many sticks h are you
sawed J
" Why, dad, when I get (i ,; s a „ d (h
other ones done, I'll have sawed four."
S s&- Fatal to worms, fatal to
men—still worqn, ' w
* - ■ r-\:< * s -