D J LUR AND FIFfY CFNTS PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
- T OWANDA :
Thursday Morning, March 5, 1863.
" fdcctcb jfMrjJ.
IPRIKG VIOLETS UNDER THE SNOW.
Nothifls is loit tliat beaut >' to save >
Purity rises in flowers from the grave,
Aud from the blossoms that fade on the troi
Falietli tbe seed of the blossoms to be ;
Life tn tu Death is mortality's growth,
Something immortal is under them both :
Surely as cometh the Winter. I kuow
There are Spring violets under the snow.
Seethe old man in his gie.it easy-chair,
Farrowed his forehead and white is his hair :
yet. as he roguishly smiles to his dame,
pointing her eyes to the lovers, whose shame
Makes them withdraw Irotn the light of the lire,
Bodiood, light-hearted, reveals in the sire I
Surely as eomcth life's Winter, I know-
There" are Spring violets under the snow.
Seethe old wife in her kerchief and cap,
Dropping her knitting-work into her lap,
While, with a laugh that is silent, she shakes,
And o'er her shoulder another peep takes ;
Years are full forty since she was a Miss,
Yet she's a girl in that overheard kiss!
Surelv as cometh life's Winter, I know
There are Spring violets under the snow.
SectheOld People, with nods of delight,
Stealiim together away for the night-,
Ever too fond and too cunning to own
Why th'-v should leave the Shy lovers alone ;
Rut their eyes, twinkling, arc telling the truth-
Down in their hearts is an answering youth!
Surelv as cometh lilc s At inter, I know
There arc Spring violets under the snow !
ill isttllaittous.
The False Clerk.
A THRILLING EVENT.
About ttvel* years ago, the S'cttr Clodo
x; Frenois. a rich merchant of •he Islam! of
Mauritius, was discovered dead, and fright!ul
!v disfigured, in his own habitation. His body
*as found lying on the floor, with the head
and face mutilated by a pistol, aud all doubt
D? to the cause of the catn-trophe was dispell
id by the di.-coverv of the fatal weapon by the
side of the corpse, as also of a piece of paper
in the handwriting of the deceased. The pa- j
per contained the following words :
"1 am ruined. A villain has robbed tneof
tweutv-tive thousand livrcs sterling ; dishonor i
must be my portion and I cannot survive it j
I leave to my wife the duty of distributing i
among rnv creditors the means which remains j
tons: und J pray GOD, my friends and my J
enemies, to pardon my self destruction. Yet j
another minute and 1 shall be in eternity.
(Signed) CLODOMIR FRENOIS.
Great consternation was caused by this tra \
gic event, which was the more unexpected, as ,
the ioss uiluded to in the above note hud nev j
tr been made public.
Tue deceased had been held in great esteem !
over the colony as a man of strict honor and j
probity, and was universally lamented. His ;
attacbed widow, after endeavoring to faithful
ly luilil bis last wishes, found her grief too!
urt-rpoweiing to permit her to uiingie longer
with ibe world, and she took the resolution to
coiiit-ernte her remaining days to the service
of religion. Two mouths alter tho sad end ul
fctr husband, she entered a convent, leaving to
iiie nephew of the late meichant, a physician,
the charge of completing the distribution of j
'ae tHeels of Frenois among his creditors.
A minute examination cf the papers of the
defunct led to the di.-co Very of thb period when
the unfortunate merchant had been robbed,
mid this period was found to correspond with
the date of the disappearance of a mac flamed
John Moon, being iu the employment of I* re
kms. Of this.man, on whom suspicion not un
naturally fell, nothing could be learned on iu
tjtiirv ; dm shortly after the division of the
late merchant's property, Moon re appeared in
the colony ; aud when taken up aud examined
respecting the cause ot his flight, tie stated
that he had been sent by his master to I'ranee
to recover certain sums due to the merchant
'here, in which mission he had been unsuccess
ful lie further averred that if Ciodomir Fr<s
nois, ia Li s existing correspondence, had
thrown any injurious suspicions upon him
(Moon,) the whole was but a pre'ext to no
fount lor the deficiencies of which the mer
thant was the cause and author. This deoda
ri tm, made bv a man who seemed to lear no
injury, and whose worldly circumstances re
Rallied to appearance the same as they had
ft'er been, had the effect of silencing, it it did
sot satisfy, the examiners; and the iillair soon
in measure, out of the public re
tulltctioui
filings remained for a short time in this
ttndition, when one morning Mr. William Bur
uett, principal creditor of the late Ciodomir
-reaoiS) heard a knocking at his gate at a very
turly hour. lie called up one of Lis servants
"ho went down and opeued the door, and im
mediately returned with the intelligence that
'stranger, who seemed desirous of keeping his
Person concealed, wished to speak with Mr.
Uuructt in private. Mr. Burnett rose, threw
°u his dressiuggown, and deceuded to the par
ior - He saw' there a stranger of tall persoo,
seated in au easy aud familiar attitude upon a
•ufa, with a number of the Morning / osl in
hand The back of the visitor was turned
° Mr. Bu.uett as he eutered. Rather sur
prised to see a stranger conduct himself so like
& u old ftieud of the house, Mr. Burnett said
aloud ;
may I beg to know your business with
Ihe stranger turned around and advanced
to salute his host warmly and courteously.—
J "r. Burnett started back, and uttered a loud
f tarnation of surprise and alarm. Well he
®'jfht fo r before his eyes stood his friend and
, lor > Ciodomir Freuois, whom he had be
" u nearly a year before, a murdered corpse,
n - wbooi he himself had followed to the
grate J
.What passed at that interview, between
Ivir. Burnett aud his strauge visitor, remained
a secret. Mr. Burnett was observed to issue
several times, pale and agitated, from his
dwelling, and to visit the magistrate charged
with criminal processes of the colony. Iu the
course ol the day, while John Moou was re
galing himself with tea uuder the palm trees
of his garden along with a Circassian female,
wliom lie had purchased some time previously,
he was arrested, aud tukea to prison by uu of
ficer of justice.
On the following day hefras brought before
the criminal court, accused with robbing the
late Coldoiiiir Freuois, the crime beiug eou
joiued with breach of triist and violence. —
Moon smiled at the charge with all the confi
dence of a man who had nothing to fear. The
judge having demanded of .dm if he confessed
tiie crime, the accused replied that the charg
es were altogether absurd ; that clear testi
mony was necessary to fix such a delict upou
him, that so far from there beiug such evi
dence producible, neither the widow of the de
ceased, nor any one person in his service had
ever heard the pretended robbery even cucc
mentioned by Frenois during his life
" Do you affirm your innocence?" repeated
the judge gravely, after heariug all the other
had to say.
" I will avouch tny inmcenee," replied
Moon, "even before the body of ray late
master, if that be necessary."
[Such a thing often took place under the
old colonial law. |
"John Moon," said the judge, in a voice
broken by some peculiar emotion, it is before
your lale master that you will Lave to assert
your innocence, aad may God make the truth
appear !"
A signai frotn the judge accompanied these
words, and immediately a door opened and
Ciodomir Freuois, the supposed suicide, en
lered the court. He advanced to the bar
with a slow and deliberate step, having his
eye calmly, sternly fixed on the prisoner, his
servant. A great sensation was caused in
court by bis appearance. Uttering shrieks
of alarm and horror, the females present fled
from tile spdt. The accused fell on his
iu abject terror aud shuddering,
guilt. For a time no voice was hearjNfawy
However, us it became apparent that
man stood before the Court, the advocate of
the prisoner gained courage t? speak. He
demanded that the iudentity of the merchant
be established, and the mystery of his ex
istence be explained. He said that the court
must not be biased by what might prove to
be a mere accidental iikeness between a person
living and one deceased ; aud that such an
avowal as that of the prisoner, extracted in
a moment of extraordinary terror, was not to
be held of much weight.
" Before being admitted here as an accuser
or witness," continued the advocate, address
big the resuscitated merchant, " prove who
and what you are, and disclose by what
chance the tomb, which so lately received
your body, mangled with bullets, has given
up its tenant, and restored you to the world
iu life and health ?"
The firm appeal of the advocate, who con
tinued steadfast to his duty uuder circura
-tauces that would have closed the lips of
most men, called forth the following narrative
from Colodmir F enois :
"My story may soon ba told,and will suffice
to establish my identity. When 1 discovered
the rubbery committed by the accused, lie had
then tied from the Island, and I speedily saw
that attempts to retake him would prove
fruitless. I saw ruin and disgrace before me,
am me to the resolution of terminating tny
life before the evil day came. On the night
in which this-determination was formed, ! was
seated alone in my private chamber. I had
written thejeiter which was found on my
table, and had loaded rav pistol. This done,
I prayed lor forgiveness from my Maker for
the act I was about to commit. The end of the
pistol was at my head, and my finger on the
lock, when a knock at the outer door of the
house startled me. I concealed my weapon
und went to the door. A man entered whom
I recognized to he the sexton of the parish in
which I lived. He bore a sack on his shoul
ders,and in it the body of a tnan newly buried
which was destiued for my nephew, the phy
sician, than living with ine. The scarcity of
bodies for dissection, as the court is aware,
compels those who are anxious to acquire skill
in the medical profession, to procure them by
any possible secret means. The sexton was
at first alarmed when he met me.
" D.d my nephew request yoil to bring this
body ?" said I.
" No," replied the man ; " but I know his
anxiety to obtain one for dissectiou, and took
it upon mo to offer him this body. For mer
cy's sake," continued the sexton, do not be
tray mc, or I shall loso my situation and my
farnilv's bread."
" While this man was thus speaking, a
strange idea entered my mind, and brought
to ray despairing bosom hopes of continued
life and houor. I stood lot" a few moments
absorbed in thought, afid gave to the resur
rectionist the sum which he had expected.—
Telling him to keep his own counsel, and that
all would be well, I sent him aw at and carried
the body to my cabinet. The whole of the
household had been sent out of the way on
purpose, and 1 had lime to carry into execu
tion the plan which hud struck me. The body
was fortunately of the same stateure as myself
and like me in complexion. I knew the man;
he had been a poor offender, abandoned by
his family.
u Poor relic of mortality !" said I, with
tears in my eyes, " nothing which man may
do can cow injure thee ; yet pordon me it i
rudely disfigure thy lifeless substance. It is
to prevent the ruin of not one but twenty
families ! And should success attend my at
tempt, I swear that thy children shall be my
children ; and, when my hour comes, Wc shall
rest together in the tomb to which thou shall
bo borne before me !"
At this portion of the merchant's narrative
the most lively interest was escited io court,
FU3LISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. GOODRICH.
and testified even by tears from many of the
audience. Frenois then proceeded :
" I then stripped off my clothes and dressed
the body iu theiu. This accomplished, I took
up the pistol, and with a hand more reluctant
than when I applied it to my own person, I
fired it close to the head of the deceased, and
at ouce caused such a disfigurement as render
ed it impossible for the keenest eyes to detect
the substitution which had been made.
"Choosing the plainest habit I could get.
I then dressed myself anew, shaved off the
whiskers which I was accustomed toNvear.and
took other means to alter aud disguise nay ap
pearance, iu case of being subjected by any
accident to the risk of betrayal. Nest morn,
iug saw me on board a French vessel on my
way to a distant land—the native country of
my ancestors. Tue expectations which had
leu me to the execution of this scheme were
not disappointed. I knew John Moou was the
man who had robbed me, aud who now stands
at the bar of this court,aud that ho had form
ed connections iu this island which would, iu
all probaoility, bring him back to it as soou
as the intelligence of my death gave him
promise ol security. In this I have not beeu
disappointed. I have been equally fortunate
iu other respects. While my unworthy servant
remained here in imaginary safety,l have been
successful iu discovering the quarter iu which,
not daring at first 10 betray the appeurauce
of wealth, lie had lodged the whole of the
stolen money. I have brought it with me, and
also snfiL-ieut proofs, supposing his confession
of this day to be set aside altogether, to con
viol him of the crime with which lie stands
charged. By the same means," continued
Ciodomir Frenois, with a degree of honorable
! pride, in which all who heard him symp.ilbiz
| ed. " will I be enabled to restore tny family
! to their place iu society, and to redeem the
i credit of a name on which no blot was left by
those who bore it bffore me, and which.please
God, I shall transmit unstained to my children
Ufid my children's children.
The news o ; Ciodomir Frenois' reappearance
j spread rapidly, and the high esteem iu which
his character was held, led to a universal re
juicing on the occasion. He was accompanied
Lfrooi the court to his home by a dense mulli-
Ftude, who welcomed him with prolonged
shouts. It would be vain to attempt any de
sciiption of the feelings cf his wife who was
restored thus to the beloved being for whose
s ike she had quitted the world. She was releas
ed from iter cclesiastical vowsaud lejoiutd 1 o
husband, no more to part till the grave really
claimed the one or the other of them.
THE IKI-IIMAX AND Ills DRINK. —When Mr.
Dodge, electic physician, was lecturing thro'
the State on the laws of health, and particu
larly ou the effects of tea aud coffee, he hap
pened to meet, one morning at the breakfast
table, a witty son of Erin, of the better class.
Conversation turned ou the doctor's favorite
subject, as follows :
" Perhaps you think I would be unable to
convince y<>u of the deleterious effects of tea
and coffee 7"
" I don't know,'* said Erin, " but I'd like
to be there when you do it."
" Well,"said the doctor, " if I convince you |
that they are injurious to your health, will you !
abstain from its use 7"
" Sure I will, sir."
" Lluw often do you tiso coffee and tea V j
asked the doctor."
" Morning and night, sir."
" Well, did you ever experience a "flight
dizziness of the brain on going to bed V
" Indeed I do."
" Aud a sharp pain through the temples, in i
and about the eyes, in the morning ?"
" Troth, 1 do, sir."
" Well," said the doctor, with an air of as
surance and confidence iu his uiauner, " that
is thetea and colLe."
"Is it, indeed ! Faith, and I always thot'
it was the whiskey I drunk 1"
The company roared with laughter, ar.d the
doctor quietly retired.
A SMART MAN. —My friend lives three miles
from the post office : and one stormy night
last winter he told his new help to harness the
horse, go down to the office, and see what
there was in the box, giving Lira the number.
In due time Jerry returned, and put up his
horse at the library door of Mr. C , who
sitting in gown and slippers, wan impatiently
waiting the arrival of the mail.
" Well, Jerry, what was there at tho Pest
office for me 7"
" Two letters and a paper, sir "
" Well, hand them to me ! What are you
standing there for X"
" liidade you dian't tell me to briog them
at all at all "
M r . C , finding that Jerry had the best
of it, asked him what he went to the office
for.
Jerry replied :
" You tould ine to go to the office and see
what was in this box, and haven't I done it,
sure 7"
Jerry had to harness up again, fend take
another ride in the cold, muttering as he went
that he wished his Honor would be after man
ing What he said next time.
A farmer haVirig made his fortune,
moved into f.he city to enjoy it, but his old
iove clung to him, and he indulged in a small
way in the agristic pursuit. "V isiting his
friends in the country, and relating his ex
perience in city farming, he said : " I put out
side my window a large bo£, filled it with
meld, andsowtd it with seed. What do you
thiuk came up ?" " Wheat, barley, or oats?"
" No, a policeman, who ordered mc to re
move it."
tST" My yoke is easy and mjr bdrden Is
light," as the young fellow said when bis girl
was sitting in his lap with his arm arouud her
neck. *
A drop of praise is an unsuitable
acknowledgment for a ocean of mercy.
" REQARDLE3S OP DENUNCIATION PROM ANY QUARTER."
THE SAD EYES.
The face was fair ; the lips soft and ruby ;
the cheeks warm with summer flushes ; but
the large, brown eyes were sad. It was not
a painful, bat a tender sudues3 that lay like
a thin veil over their brightness. You hard
ly noticed it at first, but the shadow iu Mrs
Percival's eyes grew more and more appar
ent the oftener you looked into them. They
were full of light when she spoke—danciug,
rippling light ; but this faded out with a
quickness that half-surprised you, makiug the
shadow which came after it tho more notice
able.
" What can it mean ?" said one friend to
another. They were speaking of Mrs. Perci
vul und her sad eyes. "Is that peculiar look
hereditary—a mere transmitted impression of
the soul upon the body ; or is it the sign of
an iuward state ? Do you kuow anything of
her early history ?"
" Something."
" Is she happy in her marriage ?"
" I am afraid not."
" Theu it must be her own fault," was an
swered. " Every one speuks well of Mr.
Percival. I have seen a great deal of kira aud
hold him in very high regard."
" In no higher regard than he is held by
his wife, who knows, better thau any oxe else
can know, his worth as a man."
" And yet you said, just now, that you did
not think her married life a happy one."
" There is a shadow upon it. As the wife
of Mr. Percival, she is not, I fear, in her true
place. Hence the sad eyes that look into
the world so hopelessly."
This was said of Mr and Mrs. Percival
Let us go back a few years and coma near
them in tho time wkeu this union was formed.
There had Leen too great ardor of pursuit
on the side of Mr. Percival. Tho beautiful
giil who flashed across his way ia life, so duz
zled him by her mental and personal charms,
that he resolved to secure her baud, no mat
ter what difficulties might intervene. And he
soon found un obstruction in the way. An
artist named L'stori, a young man of genius,
but modest and shrinking, as such man usual
ly are, hud already beeu attracted by this
lovely girl, and she was meeting his slow and
timid approaches with .vich tender invitations
as maiden delicacy would permit.
The quick eyes of Henry Percival soon dis
covered the truth. lie saw that the maiden
was deeply interested iu the young artist ;
and also that Liston worshipped her at a
distance, fearing to approach, lest the beauti
ful star in whose light bis soul found light
should veil itself u<> a rebuke to his advances.
And seeing this, he resolved to press in bold
ly ; to wiii the maiden for himself ; to carry
off the prize another was reaching out to
grasp.
" She shall be mine 1" So ho declared in
his heart, though ho fully understood the re
lutibii which Liston and the maiden bore to
each otrer. So resolved, when he knew that
love had grown up between them, and that
she v.as, to the young artist, as the npple of
Lis eye.
It happened in this case ns it happened in
many others As the bold lover advanced,
the less confident one retired. The ardour of
Percival had no abatement. He pressed ids
case with an impetuosity that bore down all
obstructions, almost ex'orting from the doubt
ing and bewildered girl a promise to become
his wile. If Liston had not shown apparent
indifference—had not held himself aloof—this
promise, repented of almost us soon as made,
would never have beeu given. Had she known
that her image was iu his heart, treasured
and precious, Percival's suit would have beeu
idle. But she did uot know it ; and, in her
blindness, she went astray —losing herself in
a labyrinth from which she never escaped.
The effect ou Liston, when it was known
that Percival and the maiden were engaged,
was very sud. He lost,j'for a time, all heart
in his work—all interest in life. An intimate
friend, who knew of his attachment, and un
derstood the meaning of his altered state, di
vulged the secret, aud so became public prop
erty, finding its way to the maiden's ear.
" Did you know," said a gay friend, " that j
you are charged with a serious crime ?"
" I have net heard of that accusation. —
What is the crime r" she answered, smiling.
" The Crime of breaking a heart."
" Ah ! Whose heart?" There was a change
in tho expression of her face ; the smile dy
ing out.
" Listen's."
" Why do you say that 7" she asked, catch
ing her breath, aud showing pallor of couute
nance.
"Ah haVen't you heard anything ahoat it?
Why, it's the talk all around. He was dead
iu love with you, it seems, but hadn't the
courage to say so ; proving the truth of the
old adage, that " Faint heart never won fair
lady." And now he's moping about, and
looking so woe-begoue, that everybody is pity
ing iiim."
" I am sorry that he should have pnin on
my accouut," was answered, with as mtmh in
difference as could be assumed. " Not a very
serious case, I imagine."
" Oh, but it is ; he fairly worshipped you,"
replied the friend. "Do you kuow that a lu
natic asylum is talked of ?"
" Dou't, don't say anything more, if you
please 1 It's all gossip and exaggeration of
course—but still of a kind I must not hear.—
You forgot that I am to be married ia a few
weeks "
The laughing light went out of the gay
friend's countenance, for she saw more than
she expected to see.
A few weeks passed, and the wedding day
arrived, true to her promise, but false to her
heart, took up the burden of Wifehood, stag
gering under the weight as it came down upon
her stooping shoulders. The young husband,
when he kissed her almost colorless lips, and
gaging Upon her pure face, said " Mine 1" look
ed into sad eyes and feit that his ardent word
bat half expressed the truth—that she was
not, and never could be, all his. Ho, too,had
beard of Liston's attachment, and of the ef
feet produced on him when the fact of the eu
gngeuient became public ; and something more
than a feeling of triumph found its way into
his heart. There was, at first, a vaguo sense
of aneasiuess, followed by doubts and ques
tionings. Smarting suspicioa crept in. He
became keen eyed. But all be discovered was
a dim veil dropping down over the countenance
of his betrothed, and diminishing the splendor
of its sunshine. In his eagerness to grasp the
augel whose beauty had fascinated his gaze,
he had rubbed a portion of the lustre from her
wings.
But she had taken her place at his side ;
and no allurement could have drawn her
thence, though she wulkcd in perpetual shad
ow, and though sharp stones cut her feet at
every step. iShe was too strong iu piirity and
truth to waver from the lines of duty. The
path might he difficult, but she would not
turn aside even though she failed. She had
the courage to die, but not to waver.
" Mine !" said Percival, When his kisses
were laid on tiic almost irresponsive lips of
his bride ; and eveo as be said it, away down
in his innermest convictions another voice au
swered. " Not mine 1"
So their wedded life began. It took nearly
a year for Liston, the artist, to recover from
his disappointment. A few times, during this
period, he met Mrs. Percival, and read, in her
inward looking eyes, fhat she was not a hap
py wife ; and more than this he read, peu
trating, by quick-sighted perception, the veil
iu which she had enveloped herself. After
this period he was master of his soul again,and
dwelt iu his art. Years passed, aud though
he went into society, Mr. Liston did uot mar
ry. As an artist, he rose steadily, and some
of his works attracted much attention.—
Among them was a personification of Hope, in
the single figure of a woman, exquisitely neuu
tiful, yet showing in every feature of the ten
derly pure face, trial and triumph
" Have you seea Mr. Listen's llopctil the
Academy 7" aked a friend, addressing Mr-.
Percival, a few days after the Exhibition had
Opened
" Mot yet," was answered.
" You must see it. Every one is charmed.
And, do you know, it bears a remarkable
likeness to yourself ; I've heard several per
sons speuk of this. By the way, is it a com
pliment of an accident ? It is said that be
is one of your old admirers."
The friends laughed, and in laughing, so
dimmed her own vision, that she did uot see
the strange startled look which came for an
unguarded moment i r,, o Mrs. Percival's eyes.
in company with her husband, Mrs. Pi-r
cival went to see the Hope of Mr. Listen.—
Something in the ideal figure heid her as by
fascination. Mr Percival recognized the like
ness, and with a 3ense of weariness. Many
times, from the painting, bia eves turned to
the countenance of his wife. Its expression
was not satisfactory. There was mo;e in it
than admiration for a fine picture. From the
painting, he uw her, once, turu half around,
suddenly as if spoken to : but no voice had
reached his ear. He turned, also, in the same
direction, and looked into the artist's face ;
but did not encounter his eyes, for they were
resting on his wife. The act cf Mrs. Perci
vu! was but momentary. She turned again to
the pictur;,at the same time placing her hand
on the arm of her husband, and, by the move
ment, intimating her wish to leave that part
of the institution. Mr. Percival did uot fail
to observe that his wife's interest in the exhi
bition was, from this time, partial and forced
" Are you not well ?' he asked, in his us
uai kind, but half-constrained manner.
" My head is aching," she answered, forc
ing a smile
" Shall wo go home ?"
"If you hare staid long econgh," was re
plied.
And eo they went away, not again ventur
ing to look at Mr. Listen's Ilope ; and not
again visiting the Academy while it was
there.
The eyes of Mrs. Percival \Vere just it little
sadder after this ; end so were the urtist's
eyes ; and the heart of Mr. Percival was just
a little heavier. But all three were pure
enough, true enough, and stroug enough to
bear the burdens this great error had laid tip
upon them, though in bearing there was pain
that made life wearisome.
Alas for the3e sad eyes j See well to it,
maiden, that in accepting some boldly wooing
lover, yon do not, like Mrs. Percival, commit
one of life's saddest errors, and so look out,
with dreary eyes, upou the world, through all
your coming years.
MASRIAGE IN LAPLAND —lt is death in L-'p
land to marry a maid without the consent of
her parents or friends. Wbcn a young man
lias formed an attachment to a female, the
fashion is to appoint their friends to meet, to
behold the two young parties run a race to
gether. The maid is allowed, in starting, the
advantage of the third part of the race, so that
it is impossible, except, voluntarily, that she
should be overtaken. If the maid outruns her
suitor, the matter is ended ; lie mu.-t Dt-ver
have her, it being penal for the man to renew
the proposal of marriage ; bat if the maid has
an affection for him, at first she runs
hard, to try the truth of his love, she will,
(without Atalanta's golden balls to retard her
speed,) pretend sorno casualty, aud make a
voluntary halt beforo she comes to the mark
or end of the race. Thus, none are compelled
to marry against their own wills ; and this is
the causo that in Lapland the married people
are richer in their contentment than in other
lands, where so many forced matches make
feigned love, aud cause real nnhappiucss.
Woman is like ivy—the moro you are
ruined the closer she clings to you. And old
bachelor adds : " Ivy is like woman—the
closer she clings to you, the more you are
ruined." ;
' ■ m
ipp- An instantaofious method of producing
vinegar—Praise one young lady to acothtr.
VOL. XXIII. K0.40.
Diamond Fetters.
Do you think, dear reader, that you should
like to owu three millions of dollars' worth of
diamonds ? Perhaps yes. IJut hew if three
millions of dollars worth of diamonds owned
you ? Do you think it is any pleasauter to be
bound hand and feet ia fetters of diamonds
than in links of iron ? If you do, just read
the history of the Duke of Bruuswick ana his
diamonds, every particular of which is vouch
ed for by the Paris correspondent of the New
Orleans Picayune.
The most profound adamanto'ogist in the
world is the Duke of Brunswick. He has in
Lis possession three millions of dollars' worth
of diamonds. He has just published a cata
logue of his diamonds, and iu the appendix
there is a notice of the most celebrated
diamonds in the world. This catalogue
numbers not leas than 268 quarto pages. It
gives, with great detail, a hst of his while,
transparent, first white, second white, steel
white, blue white, light blue, black blue, light
yellow, bright-yellow, umber-yellow, straw,
cbampugue, deep-rose, rosy, light rose, opa
lescent/pomegranate, violet, greenish, greeo
sea green, brown, light-brown, deep browo*
dusk-black, opaque-black, Londou-fog, sandy*
frosty, black spotted, cracked, split, scratched
iii-cut, uncut, round, oval, oblong,
octagon, pointed, pigeon eyed,almond,Chinese
eyed diamouds. It relates ho v this one adorn
ed a Turkish sabre, thrt a royal diadem*
another an imperial collar, a third a graud
electoral hat; this black diamond was au idol's
eye, that brilliant ro->y diamond was taken
from the Emperor Baber, at Agra, in 1520
(it weighs 41 carats, and is worth SG9,OQO),
those were the waistcoat buttons of the
Emperor Don Pedro ; this diamond ring, with
the Stuart coat of arms, and the cipher " M
S belonged to Mary Queen of Scots ; that
pair of ear rings hung once on Maria An cite* t®
The Duke of Brunswick has iu bis posses
sion fifteen of the ninety knowu diamonds,
weighing thirty six carats, but he has not a
diamond worth $260,000. lie baa a plenty
of diamonds worth $20,900, $30,000, $45,000
apiece ; lie has two worth SOO,OOO each, one
worth $7'),000, and one worth SBO,OOO ; but
ho hasn't one worth $200,000. lie is in
treaty now for two diamonds, one of which is
worth $232,U00 and the other $050,000, and
which rank in the order of precedence estab
lished by adamautologists, in the sixth rank,
which is next after the regent's diamond, and
the former in the eighth rank, that is, next
after the Orloff diamond of Russia. Iu his
iist of celebrated diamonds he places in the
front rank a brilliant white diamond, weigh
ing 250 carats, and belonging to some East
Indian prince, and worth $2,500,000 ; next
comes the Koh i noor,which weighs 187 carats,
and which he sets down as worth $1,383,840;
next comes the Rajah of Mutara's
diamonds, it is of the most beautiful water
conceivable, the Governor of Batavia offered
the rajah $150,000, two brigs of war, armed,
equipped and provisioned for six months, and
a large quant ly of caunon balis, powder and
congrevu rockets ; the rajah refuged them all,
ftnd preferred keeping his diamond, which
passes for a talisman; it is worth $1,339,455.
Next comes the Great Mogul, which is of a
beautiful rose color, and of the shape and siza
of half a hen's egg ; it is worth $784,000, ac
cording to the Duke of Brunswick's valuation,
though Tavernier, the traveller, sets it down
as beiug worth $3,334,055 ; the regent's
diamond of France (and which, by the way,
belonged the Lord Chatham's grandfather,
who brought ft from India concealed iu the
heel of his shoe),comes only in the fifth rank;
it weighs 136 14 carats —it is worth $739,*
840"; it is the purest diamoud known ; it re
quired two years to cut it ; before it was cut
it weighed 410 carats; the cbippings of it
were sold for $40,000.
The Duke of Brunswick says the Orloff dia •
mond of Russia is worth only $344,300, and
not $18,410,530, as some persons have pre
tended; and he says the Sancy diamond,which
Prince Paul Demidoff purchased at the price
of $400,000, is worth only s2orlGo ; hut then
the Duke of Brunswick reckons its historical
value as nothing, although it once adorned the
sword of Charles the Bold, was found after
his death on the battle-field of Nancy, was
sold in Switzerland, carried to Portugal and
there sohf, belonged to King Antonia, to
Henry 111., was swallowed by a uo'olo to
whom he confided it—swallowed by the faith
ful noble sooner than deliver it to robbers,and
was found iu his body, which was disinterred
for the purpose of discovering it The Duke
of Brunswick dares not leave Paris at any
period of the year ; his diamonds keep him
chained there. He dares not sleep from homo
(some people reckon this liberty of pillow one
of the great franchises of Paris) u single uigbt.
Then he lives in a house constructed uot so
much for comfort as for security. It is bur
glar-proof, surrounded on every side by a high
wall; the wall itself is surrouuded by a lofty
iron railing, defended by innumerable sharp
spear-heads, which ate so contrived that if
any person touches any one of them, a chime
of bells begins instantly to ring an alarm ; this
iron railing cost him $14,127. He keeps his
diamon s in a safe, built in a thick wall ; his
bed is placed against it, that no burglar may
break into it without killing,or at least waking
; him, and that he may arouse himself with them
without leaving his bed. This safe is lined
! with granite and with iron ; the locks have a
; secret which mii*t be known before they can
! be opened ; if they are opened by violence, a
' discharge of fire-arms takes place, which will
1 inevitably kill the burglar, and at the sArae
time a chime of bells in every room of his
house are set ringing. He has but one win
dow in his bedroom —the sash is of the stoutest
iron—the shutters are of the thickest sheet
iron. The ceiling of his room is plated with
irou several inches thick, and so is tlio floor.
The door opening iuto it is of solid sheet iron,
and cannot be entered unless one be master
! of the secret combination of the lock. A case
I of a dozen six-barrelled revolvers, loaded and
! capped, lies opeu opoo s table within reach of
I bis bed