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TERMS INVARIABLY CASH.
!'• >r thf Bra<lford Reporter
ALOXE.
• I At L PEMBEBTON. SR.
ni.i done —
: .ii-tanet ol my memory now.
..! ,tg>.-tl and furrowed brow.
■ -t. -ilkiest locks of silver hair.
inly Irawu towards father's chair ;
at i:.. tell how much I love you, for
. . ail.lef my fond heart's three-score ;
a- • u your head I pout
i-!. -!■ i within tin tomb's sealed door,
V ; a . ■ r -a tll 1 hear it.
\". i \\r any more !
i-.'tiit i - voice talis on my ear.
~ uie foittage when the world I fear,
a . !• t uupr. ti- • d how !" plod.
-. in through lift, the dangerous sod :
-w t >ivi - dut. -me in soft tone,
ten let words when I in anguish moan:
... d 1 >vt. this heart must aye deplore,
will ' vet .'- t Intel. .1 prev restore,
.v lu-ver. it v. ill yield it
:> ei a- v.. any n. •
■t. my ! , ..a; - -i-a. v. y j
th ot 1 . ,
-
]
x m m i. : ,
it ip I! my pathway fell :
i: mI it--t v. iselv but too well
- sit. and I am s.nl and lorn.
I aly sky my brilliant morn.
• a a nil' r dark, in circle gay,
v : n.y eye-! For her I pray,
_ : . \ —e.iit has w tisted all its store,
i it- hopes upon a desert shore :
N .v. I shall love,
' r. never any more!
THE LUMP OF OLAY.
...it was a sculptor. Hi* was by
. 1; ii .ii. 1-ut we lived during our
i dfi :i tile city of New Orleans.—
. ta I or artist : uu tin contrary
v.'t fiiiy. and spent his money lav
- men 1 g. nius olten do. The dain
-. viands, the rarest wines, were al
- 'ii our table ; and he would have v
■ dme like a queen, had not my i'uri- *
tstes inter posed ami :red d iwii t i.-.* N
•us i ti.es it.- would have had me *
.. ; while our house was crowded with *
iy ii •■-. a., i ui pint ti," tiuf.st in the
.]
■u ni'l oltt-n ir.end- have spoken to ,s
al in jest and iiu.il in earnest, of the I
g bait our dwelling ottered to bur- 1
--< dishonest servants : but Ludivico 1
... . at their warnings, ami 1 never
ti when lie was h%.
Nad lived for live years, less care- '
J i.u "l bolts and bars than many who ■'
- tve ti.. ir four walls to protect,
"• • -ufk ring save from some petty
u:.'U the autumn of Is—came. '
i j ! i- ii turned from our summer •"
• '. ■ mi Ludivico was busy witii 1
• its lor new work ; fresh clay had '
i i ,ns studio, models engaged;
. g prepared lor a busy win- 1
• iy new duties and cares also, *
lant ifiw three months old lay
isi. And we were proud and '
;r m w treasure ; never in our !
"1 u talked so much of the future. (
j m i Uiat coming winter was por- !
i r nember tlie fact now with c
> - ii ~ and an indescribable up
■ • 1 uikm -s which veils the ~
eyes which 1 never felt be- *
y -. i itl we Lave feared to hopt ?
young : we were liealthy ; we 1
v'i. tiid to spare of this world's 1
e v..- adored each other. The '
■■•<t all ti.is might not last never 1
-j Hiind, nor, 1 believe, my bus- 1
- t . uad put my babe to sleep
out into the kitchen to see the 1
m I had certain orders to give 1
- i h akla-t, but could not find 1
i
i t.int.-were forbidden to remain '
1 u nine, and it was nearly
' 1 angry with the girl, the i
! t she had left an outer door i
d Happing in the wind ; and l
Initiation of impatience I went :
t
Ht a moment on the threshold <
garden still full of beautiful I
; >t its foot, leaning over the 1
"1 the girl, Jane, talking to a (
n -ii ne lull upon them, and 1 I
-'ni's of both plainly. • Jane ;
mulatto, and it was impossible
'>he; the man was of her color or <
A *iii,y white person. Hut, white 1
xpit ssion ot the lace was
■ • -lent, brutal, full of cuuuing;
I: among felon's laces; such
1 - trtii has drawn, and no man
'\ ,l ° ever handled brusii. ;
'He moment ; then called out
•" ! <|uickly, "Jane, come in ; it is
''••y out,' and retreated. (
ui .lane was with me, apolo-
t
K- O. GOODRICH,
VOLUME XXVI.
! sizing in her own servile way, and "taking
1 my rebuke very quietly.
1 gave her my orders and sent her to bed,
and then went up stairs and forgot all
| about the matter, though it was in my mind
to speak of it when I was at the door.
For once in the room 1 found my hus
band iiad brought in upon a board a piece
, of wet clay and set it at the loot of the
bed, and my first words were :
'• Are you going to work to-night, Ludi
vico ?"
"•No," said lie, " the clay is too wet ; but
to-morrow the first tiling 1 am going to be
gin--can you guess what V
, " No,'" said 1.
" Our baby,'' said my husband ; "we
i will make a sleeping cupid ul him. It shall
1 be my first work tins winter.*'
1 laughed with glee.
" 1 shall prize it so," said I. "He is
lovely, is he not and I kissed the child
softly as lie slept. An hour after I was
sleeping also, tranquilly, dreamlessly. The
lumps were out, all was darkness and peace.
How long it lasted I do iiof know. .
I awakened with a start. 1 suppose
S' ie slight voice aroused me, fur, alter
lying awake a lew moments, 1 became con
scious that some one was moving stealthily
about the room —some one with bare feet.
I called out, " Ludivico, is that you ?"
and iheu with terror heard his sleeping
breath at my ear, ami knew that some
stranger wa?in the room. Soon I heard a
stumble and an oath, suppressed, but plain;
tiien the board ou which the clay rested
seemed to be pushed across the Hour. XI v
heart throbbed fearfully, I knew now that
burglars were in the house, and 1 thought
only ol'our personal safety. They might
take all, if they did not harm my husband
and my child. I watched and listened,
holding my breath until a ray ol light shone
in the room, and 1 knew the thief had light
ed a dark lantern. 1 heard the tinkle of
the dill'erent articles he slipped into a bag. !
I heard drawers and wardrobes stealthily I
opened, and 1 prayed that his cupidity
might be satisfied, and tiiat lie might go i
leaving us unharmed.
Alas, the prayer was vain ! Some noise j
louder than the n-t awoke my husband. 1 !
strove ni vain to h strain or silence him. !
He sprang from the bed, shouted " Who is j
there and made for the dark shape just !
visible. In an instant the lantern was !
darkened, and a struggle in the dark com- j
inenced. 1 shrieked lranticaily. Steps and i
lights approached. A pistol was fired, a ;
heavy fall followed. 1 heard the robber !
dash 1 lorn the room and down the stairs j
and the next moment the room was full of j
trembling servants, and I saw, by the lights
they carried, Ludivico lying upon the floor
weltering in his blood.
I called his name. He made me no an
swer. I lifted up his face. Alas, the truth
was written there —the bullet had entered
Lis heart. He was dead !
What need to dwell on that sad time, i
Friends flocked to iuy aid, but I cared for j
nothing now tlint he was dead.
The house had been stripped of valua
bles and money. It was the boldest rob
besy accomplished lor years—said the po
lice. But despite all eflorts—all offered re- j
wards, the culprit was not to be found. He ;
had escaped as completely as though he j
had vanished from the earth.
When I had buriui my darling in the
strange city of sepulchres, where the dead i
A V u Orleans repose, and waited many
tveeks in hopes that his murderer might be
bum!, i took my child and went home to j
ii\ kindred in old Connecticut. I was
veal thy, and in no fear of want during my
lie. But the only possession 1 now valued ,
vas my child, the boy wiio might someday j
voir his father's mien, and speak to me in
lis 1 iliier s voice.
I had dismissed Jane. She had been un- :
ler suspicion, and examined carefully, but j
;fit• apj tared innocent. Of all the servants j
kept Out one to assist me in packing and j
raveling North with me. While the pack- j
ng was going on she come to me and 1
said ;
" There's a queer bit of clay on a board
mder your bed, ma'am. Shall 1 throw it
tway V
I burst into tears. - I
'• T in- last tiling iiis hand ever touched !" i
cri- d. : Oh no. 1 will take it with me."
So the dry lump made part of my luggage,
.hat and tin; dainty box-wood tools he had
aid out to work with.
I found dear ones to grieve witii me and
lurse me at home, but my heart was bro
<en. The "nly one object 1 had in life was
.o bring Ludivico's murderer to justice.
Hut how, when experienced detectives had :
ailed upon the spot, was I, an inexperi
noo'l woman, so many miles away, to sue- <
:eed i They treated the idea with indul- ;
£eiit pity, but 1 felt sure that God would
iclp me. The face at the garden gate was i
-tamped upon my memory. It was the on
y clue I had, but it was something.
80011 1 had another.
One day 1 began to unpack my effects, i
uad arrange them in my present home. Al-!
nust at the last ol the work 1 came to that
tvhieh xx as to li.tvt b, 11 our sleeping cher- '
ib, bat which was now, like the hand which j
Jioughtto mould it, a mere cold lump of'
•lay.
1 laid it on the table, and looked at it. I
thought to xveep, but amazement cheeked!
iif tears, i hero, in the midst of the dry j
mould, was the impress of a foot —the low- i
'•r part of a e .arse, large, maimed man's,
foot.
The truth burst upon me at once. The 1
lobbt r had trodden in the clay. 1 remem
bered that the stairs and floors were spot
ted xvitli it. 1 remembered his ejaculation j
and tin thud ol the clay against the bed
stead. it was all plain. I locked the j
lour, and sat down with both hands to my
head. A lien e joy possessed me. I knew ;
xx fiat to do. .My bauds had dabbled in j
ca.-.t-making aft. n enough.
I found some plaster of Paris, and soon j
the loot up to tin- instep stood before me— j
a coarse, large foot, as I have said before, ;
xvitli txxo toes gout —the great toe and the
one next it —and an incision in the side, as j
tnougli a piece had been cut away.
\\ hen. 1 had done this, and, though it j
xx a.a matter of some time, I said no word 1
to .my one. 1 broke down, and lay ill along !
white 1 In- excitement had been very j
git .!, ami brought on a brain fever, from j
which I nearly died.
\ ft, d< spite all ihis, nothing came of my
discovery 1 waited and hoped in vain. A
year pass.-d—five- the sixth began and
TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., DECEMBER 21, 1805.
; crept on until the winter, and yet, though 1
had written to influential friends in New
I, Orleans, nothing was made by my discov
1 | ery. *
i At last I said : The secret is veiled from
human eyes forever. 1 must give up hope.
- And 1 was calmer after that.
.* • Nly boy was now a comfort to me, and I
? had gone to housekeeping with a young
sister for my companion. She was a beau
- tilul creature, ami very much admired. My
house grew gay, for 1 could not doom her
t 1 to dullnt s.s, and young voices and laugh
- J ter and music tilled the parlors almost
, nightly
Sometimes, however, 1 was alone there,
• ; while she was away amid gay scenes and
1 merry friends, and then I thought until
thinking was a pain and the hours seemed
j years.
One cold winter night I had been thus
alone when my sister Grace came home.
She was in a merry mood, and cast her fur
wrappings from her gleefully as she sat
dtuvn by the fire.
" I've made a conouest, niv dear," she
said.
" Is thai any tiling new ?" asked I.
" li<' is. \\ hat do you say to a million
aire ?"
'• 1 should ask, what is he besides a mil
lionaire
" Oh ! a Cuban, forty odd, I suppose, and
not a bit handsome : but he adores me al
ready. It's 110 juke, Ella ; and I always
said I would marry a rich tnau."
" Not without loving him ?"
" Bah ! It's enough if he loves me. How
do love-matches end ? Either one dies and
the other is wretched, or they quarrel and
are divorced in a year or two. Better not
love, say I."
1 sighed. Bhe was half right, after all.
" He's a mystery too," said Grace. "No
one knows any thing about him, except
that he's enormously rich. He lias bought
the Elms—the finest place here, j'ou know
—and they are making a great pet of him
—all for his money. He sau me home—
-1 tt> the envy of every girl in the room, and
lie probably call to-morrow to ask lioxv I
am. Will you shut me in my room and
i send him away, cruel sister?"
I tried to smile, aud the thought came
; upon mo that it might be better never to
j know the height t' happiness if one must
| lie plunged from it into the depths of mis
| ery.
j " 1 shall not turn the Cuban away if lie 1
j is a good man and my sister likes him," I
i said ; and Grace laughed and xvent to bed.
The Cuban did call next day, but 1
was out and did not see him. The neigh-!
bur's spoke well of him, however ; and he i
had bought the great place called " the j
Elms," and intended to be a resident of the I
town. In a wealthy point of view it seemed
a good match for my girl, and I waited anx- j
iously to see the man himself. Three days j
after I had the opportunity.
Grace had been to church in the evening; |
my boy was ill, and I had staid away. — i
When it was time for service to be over I
sat by the window watching for her. The i
bedroom xvas dark, and the moon outside j
very bright ; consequently 1 could see the
garden plainly Soon Grace came up the
path oil a man's arm. At the gate she
bade him good-by, and stopped to say a j
few words Blie stood inside, swinging the j
; gate in her hand. lie leaned with both j
t arms folded 011 the fence outside.
I had seen the picture before. Where ? j
With a leap my mind went back to the i
night lie fore my husband's murder. 1 saw |
Jane, the mulatto cook, and her compan- j
ion ; and, oh merciful Heavens ! the man's
face was the same. This xvas shaded by a
fashionable hat a fashionable collar and
cravat, and an elegant over-coat finished
the costume, while the first face xvas set off'
by ragged and ruffianly garments, but the ;
persons were the same. I could have laid j
1113' hand upon the Bible and sworn to that j
fact on the spot. As I grew positive of
this rn3" senses departed, and my sister, ,
when she entered, found me in a swoon up- j
on the floor.
When I recovered I doubted in}- own j
sanitx*. I laid what 1 had seen to the iUn- j
siun of moonlight and distance. I argued
with myself that until I had again seen this t
Cuban I must regard the whole thing as a !
delusion. I waited, not patiently but si- 1
lently. .Soon I met him face to face in 1113'
oxvn parlor. The moment was a terrible
one. 1 knew now 1 had made no mistake.
There had never been the faintest doubt
iu 1113' mind that this companion of Jane's
had been at the bottom of the dark deed of
that horrible night There was 110 doubt
now that this was tlie man ; 3"et 1113" own
common-sense told me that to accuse a
xxa altliy gentleman on such slight grounds
as the riH'inoiy of a face seen once by moon
light would lie absurd. I should be called
insane. But if I were, this was a bold,
bad man, and Grace should have no more
to do with liirn. I told her so that niirht,
and she turned on me angrily.
" You should have spoken sooner," she
said. "It has gone too far. I ain half en
gaged to him. it is a splendid match for a
poor girl, and I'll many him "
"Do 3'ou love him ?" said I.
She laughed. "No ; but, as I said once I
before, he loves me. That's enough. I ;
shall get used to his wiys and looks, no
doubt ; and I shall be mistress of a splen
did house, carriage, horses, etc., and shall
enjoy myself. Is it only for his ugly face
you hate my Cuban ? Don't 3*ou remem- j
ber Bbakspeare : ' Xlislike me not for my
complexion,' etc. To be sure he is suspic- j
iously dark ; but it t'x Cuban—nothing |
else."
And changing at once from angry to ga3 - ;
she kissed me.
"He has a horrible face," 1 said ; " but j
that is not all. Grace, this must not go j
on. I will tell you a secret. The face I i
saw over the gate on that awful night talk-1
ing to Jane. The face of one connected, I j
am sure, with this murder, was this man's j
face ; and lie, Grace, is the man himself." j
Grace answered with a laugh.
" You are wild," she said. " That, you
have a!\v ,13- s said, was a ragged, wretched !
j fellow."
"Yes; but still the man in other clothes-"
" A millionaire has 110 need to turn bur-
IgUr." _ j
"How did this man make his money—j
i can 3'ou answer ?"
"Nonsense—of course not. Cotton or'
: sugar I suppose. 1 hope you are not go
ing to have another biain fever, my dear."
" M 3" brain is steady, Grace. Heed me."
" That I can't ; you will see your folly
REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER.
I ' soon. The idea ! Because the poor man
v is ugly, I'll make him tell how he raine by
f- his fortune ! Sleep on it, and you'll see
your insanity.
II She danced away,and I crept to bed with
•• a heavy heart.
Ihe next day she came to me gleefully.
I "My Caliban made his fortune in trade,"
t, she said ; " took his father's business, and ;
- gave it up when his million was made. He
y showed me papers and letters and things
r ; I didn't understand, though I pretended to.
i- He didn't find his millions in people's cup
t boards. And he has popped the question, j
and 1 have accepted—so there's an end. j
, ( oine, 1 know you've had too much troub
-1 I le ; but don't brood over it and go out of;
1 1 your head."
1 She tried to kiss me, but I held her off. j
Listen, Grace, I said. "If you marry
5 this man and I discover afterward" that he
knows any thing of that awful night I
shall still denounce him."
t " And welcome," said she. Then with a
sudden childish burst of tears she clasped
me and cried : " Oh, Ella, don't go crazy—
don't go crazy ! Try to take comfort : try |
to be yourself!"
It was useless to argue farther, and 1 I
left her.
So, being betrothed to Grace, the Cuban, !
Mr. Zenzee was his name, brought his hid- j
eous face to our house every night
I loathed it, but I had determined to i
watch him. \\ ith this end I endured the :
sight and heard him talk. At last I made
him contradict himself as to the places *
where he spent certain years. I confused
him by blunt inquiries concerning Cuba, j
I became convinced that he was no more a
Cuban than myself. Then watching him
still closer I saw terror as well as brutality j
in his eye. I knew the man feared some
thing. Closer and closer my fancied proofs
were gathering about him, until I began
to see in him the actual murderer. The
man who had stolen barefoot about our
room, and the clay impress of whose muti-;
lated foot I had locked in a closet in my !
room. Could I see his foot I could be sure
not else. And that had now become
the object of my life ; and, all this while, ;
despite all my prayers and protestations,
for my sister's marriage with Mr. Zenzee
were going forward.
ihe day was si t. The time narrowed.
Before that wedding-day 1 had sworn to
make my discovery. I worked now with
two ends. My old one, and that of sav
ing Grace from becoming the wife of a
I monster.
> I watched the foot as a cat watches a
mouse, but discovered nothing. My agonv i
I grew greater and greater. Time" moved |
too fast for me ; I could have prayed fur j
days and hours to lengthen those months j
; out. At last there was but one day be
tween the present in which 1 lived' and '
that in which my sister would become Mrs.
j Zenzee. On that morning 1 awoke with
j my plan fully matured.
I said to Grace at breakfast; "Since the
wedding is so near invite Mr. Zenzee to
puss the evening with us."
She looked up with a smile.
sou are coming to your sensed," slie i
said.
1 Viade no answer. After a while 1 |
5 asked again, "Do you love him, Grace ?" : i
and she answered : "I told you once why >
i I accepted him. That is my reason still, j e
: Alter all, what /.-■ love worth?" but she 1
; sighed. = t
My heart had been at ease in that score j '
before. It was even lighter now. But I o
how it throbbed with anxiety ! The dav i 1
wore on tediously, and evening carne with j
a murky rain ; but with it came Mr. Zenzee. \ 1
He took tea with us, and did his best to f
be agreeable ; but somehow, in spite of jo
the remarkably handsome dress he wore, : g
lie looked more the ruffan than ever. After I
j tea we had out the card-table, and he show- j
ed us some strange tricks at cards, and , c
: played against us, and cheated us both | t
• for fun, and laughed at Grace's wonder. ! i
Then Grace sang a while ; and then, the j s
i clock striking ten, my time had come.
" It is a cold night," said I. j f
" Bitter," said he, shuddering. " But j c
then I come from a warm climate." j v
"Something warm to drink would be a I c
i comfort," said I. j
lie brightened up.
"It would suit me," said he. ! e
" A bowl of punch now ?" said I. j y
Grace started. ! r
" Punch ! I thought you —" i<J
I stopped her. I e
" This is a special occasion," said 1 ; j
"aud, to tell the truth, 1 have some pre- i v
pared." j fi
" Pond of a drop yourself of a cold night, | \
and none the worse for it, ma'am," said he, j
with a laugh.
I laughed too as 1 left the room. In the ! c
kitchen I found my punch-bowl full. !o
" Is it hot ?" said I. i 1
'• Boiling," said the girl ; and 1 seized it j
on its tray with the ladle. Then I called f
John, our coachman, a burly fellow over j f
six feet height. e
".John," said 1, "stay near the door.— |
It I call you, come and do what I tell you." j r
The man started but obeyed. i a
1 waited until I heard him plant himself | <J
j upon the sill of the door, then entered tie- i t
parlor. j c
"Taste it, Mr. Zenzee, is it not fine ?" I i
said, and then, as I stood near him, the J
bowl dropped from my hands, and the con- ; c
i tents poured over the lloor and the Cuban's (
i knees. 1 screamed. He howled, for the !
j boiling liuid had filled the loose shoes In- J
j wore ; and down 1 went on my knees be- c
fore the spot to which lie had sprung. , i
" Oh, what an unlucky thing ! Are you j r
j scalded ? Let me see." And as he sat , v
, writhing with pain on the sofa I tore off
I shoes and stockings with great pretense ! \
1 of compassion and grief. ; r
j The feet lay bare upon a cushion. The | I
right perfect. The left —that maimed foot j r
which had made its impress in the clay on 1
the night of my husband's murder. i
I gave a yell of almost insane triumph, j a
i and cried aloud for John. ; 1
" Hold him," I said. "Do not let him I i
| go. He is a murderer." j i
1 forget the other details of that night, ! \
i or remember them only in a sort of dream. ! i
I I know emissaries of the law soon filled
my house. I know my wild staten. at j I
slowly gained credence. I had my pniots
in the clay and plaster in my n> • n above j
At last, in the recognition of the man a> a :
desperado of the Mississippi, and finally i
in his own confession. I i
His end was the one he merited, and nr
work was done.
Long since Grace married a man sin
loved with her whole heart, and they an
prosperous And I— lam patient anc
ready to bide God's will.
WINTER COMETH.
Whose voice is that which sounds outside V
Whose footstep is that I hear
Across the open plain draw near
Who conies this way at break of day,
And knocks against the cabin-door
To fright th i children of the poor ?
His face it has the look of death ;
His beard is white with frost and snow
No kindly beam his dull eyes know :
His step is bold : bis breath is cold
Oh, hark ! it is his tread I hear,
Each day it sounds more loud and near.
He pauses not beside the way.
But like a conquering hero comes,
With gathering sounds of muffled drums :
From yonder height at dead of night.
When all oeside is hushed and still.
His clarion tones the wide air fill.
In icy fetters strong as steel
He chains the torrent in its eourse
That through the chasm thunder hoarse :
Beneath his look the meadow brook,
Which babbled on through weed and grass.
Grows on a sudden smooth as glass.
The stately palace windows shine
With pleasant warmth and brilliant light
fo charm away the gloom of night ;
And guests are there, the rich and fair,
Who to and fro on joyous feet •
Move to sott strains of music sweet.
He enters not, but straightway goes
On to the hovel, dump and low.
Where shines no firelight's cheerful glow :
The old man groans ; the mother moans :
The infant opens widiits eye,
Aud gives a low and piteous cry.
He threads the city's heartless streets :
See where yon lonely taper burns,
Up the steep flight of stairs he turns ;
With fingers worn, around her form.
She wraps the course shawl, torn and old.
To keep her from the bitter cold.
He meets the beggar in Lis path.
Who shifters as the foe draws nigh.
And shrinks to let the tyrant by :
On, on he goes : his cold breath blows
The pelting rain and stinging sleet
Adown the blank, deserted street.
On mountain heights he ranges wide ;
There, by the darkness led astray.
The traveler sinks upon his way,
Helpless, alone, and weary grown,
And there half buried in the storm
The brave dogs find the lifeless form.
So comes the tyrant Winter ou,
It is his footsteps that I hear.
Each day it sounds more loud ami near ;
His voice is bold ; his touch is cold ;
Oh, hark! he knocks againat the doc >r :
Xow may the Great God help the poor !
PENNSYLVANIA SUPREME COURT-
In 1850 the Constitutional Amendment
nuking all the Judges of this Commoii
vealth elective by the people, was perfect
id. During the session of 1851 the Legis
ature divided the State into judicial dis
ricts.and made all other provisions requis
te to give full effect to this change in the
irgauic law. In the following autumn the
irst election for Judges was held.
For the Supreme bench, the democrats
louiinated Jeremiah S Black of Somerset,
ibis Lewis of Lancaster, John B. Gibson
f Cumberland, Walter 11. Lowrie of Alle
gheny, and James Campbell of Philadei
*hia.
The Whigs nominated Richard Coulter
if Westmoreland, Joshua M. Comly of Mein
our, George Chambers of Franklin, Win.
J. Meredith of Philadelphia, and Win. Jes- !
up of Susquehanna.
All the Democrats were elected except
'ampbell ; who fell behind his ticket be
ause a good many Democrats would not
•ote for an Irishman and a Catholic, or be
ause they deemed him incompetent lor the
dace. The only Whig elected was Coulter.
The Judges elect drew lots for the period j
ach was to serve. Black drew for three
■ears, Lewis for six, Gibson foi nine, Low
ie for twelve,and Coulter for the full term 1
if fifteen years. Black, having the sliort
st term, was Chief Justice.
Coulter died in April, 1852. Tu_Jill the
acancy, the Whigs nominated Joseph Buf
irigton of Armstrong ; the Democrats,Geo. '
\ . \\ oodward of Luzerne. Woodward was
lectsd.
Gibson died in May, 1853. For the va
ancy the \\ higs nominated Thomas A.Budd
f Philadelphia ; the Democrats, John C. t
Cnox of Tioga. Knox was elected.
In 1854 the Democrats nominated Black i
or re-election ; the Whigs nominated Dan- i
el M. Sinyser of Montgomery Black was
lected. Lewis became Chief Justice.
In 1857 the Democrats nominated Win.
Strong of Berks, in place of Black,who had
iccepted the otlioe of Attorney-General un- i
ler President Buchanan,and James Thouip-,
ion of Erie, in place of Lewis, whose term i
if service was expiring. The Whigs nom
natcd James Veech of Fayette, and Thus. '
I. Lewis of Chester. Both the Democratic :
candidates were chosen. Lowrie became j
Jhief Justice.
In 1858 the Republicans nominated John
1. Read of Philadelphia, to fill the vacancy
uaile by Knox becoming Attorney-General j
inder Gov. Packer. The Democrats notni- j
lated W. A. Porter of Philadelphia. Read !
vas elected.
In 1863 the Democrats nominated Lowrie, ■
vho had been Chief Justice six years, for'
e-eleetion. The Republicans nominated !
laniel Agnew of Beaver. Agnew was
■hosen. Woodward became Chief Justice. (
The bench is now occupied by Woodward
vhose term will expire in 1867 : Strong
ind Thompson, whose terms will expire in
iK72; Read whose term will expire in 1873; :
ind Agnew, who will go out in 1878. If" j
Strong and Thompson should both be in ser
vice when Woodward's terms shall end,
:hey will cast lots for the Chief Justiceship.
Of the present Judges, as has already
icon seen, Woodward, Strong and Thomp
m wete elected as Democrats ; Read and
Agnew as Republicans. During the war
strong has acted with the Republicans on
all national questions, which has given
them a practical loyal innjorityon the bench
per Annum, in Advance.
'J' FUN, FACTS AND FACETLE.
Ie IT is a remarkable 'act that,however well
•e i young ladies may be versed in grammar, very few
( j can decline matrimony.
A DCTCHJUN in Albany, some time ago,
went out to bis milkman in the street, with a dish
in each hand, instead of one, as usual. The dis
penser of attenuated milk asked him if he wished
him to fill both vessels. The Dutchman replied,
| suiting the action to the word, "dis for the milluk
and dis for de water, and I will mix dem so as to
j shute my self.''
Coxi VORI m. —An exchange has the follow
i ing sentiment embodied in the fo m of a contin- j
drum : Why will the emblems of America outlive :
j those of England, France, Ireland, or Scotland : !
j Because the Hose will fade, the Lily will droop, the j
: '■•lmmrorJc will wither, and the 77, isfh will die, but |
| the Star.? are Eternal.
Ax Irishman just from the sod,was eating
j some old cheese,when he found to his dismay, that
it contained living inhabitants, "Be jubers, said '
he, "does your chaze in this country have childer?" !
A WOMAN'S tears soften a man's heart, her
flatteries his head.
SIDXEY passing through a by-street
; behind St. Paul's, heard two women abusing each
other from opposite houses. "They will never
| agree," said the wit: "they argue from different
, premises."
Ax incurable old bachelor, and who \
seemingly rejoices in his infirmity, describes mar- '
; nage as a "female despotism tempered by pud
dings."
SURE CCRE.—A country editor has humor"
talized himself by a discovery at once startling and
wonderful. He gets off the following : "(krtain
' Cure for Fleas on I logs. —Soak the dog five minutes
in c-amphene, and then light him." We advise our
readers to try it.
MANKIND should learn temperance from
I the moon : the fuller she gets the smaller her horns
; become.
\\ HAT is the difference between an ac
cepted and a rejected lover ? One kisses his miss,
and the other misses his kiss !
A BAILOR, in giving his opinion of the re
ligious denominations, said, "I like the Episcopa- j
! lian best and when asked why, said, "In all oth- !
er churches you must sit mum and take the jaw, !
but in the Episcopal church yor. can jaw back."
*'M v brudin, said a colored preacher, des
canting on the difficulties of the sinner, "it un
easy to row a boat over Niagary Falls, but a tr< -
j mendons job to row it ba-k again.'
Ax enfant t> r*iLle once asked a lady if the
person living in the next house to her was an idiot.
•Not that I know of," replied the lady. "Why do
you ask. child ?" "Because,"said the child, "mam
lUU says you are next door to a idiot. '
"MA.'' said an intelligent, thoughtful boy
of mine. - I don't think Solomon was so rich as
they say he was." "Why, my dear, what could
have put that in your head ?" asked the astonished
mother. "Because the Bible says he slept with
his fathers and I think if he had' been so rich be
, would have had a bed of his own.
A COXXIBTAL KNOT. —An old lady had
married a young and rather fast man. On out: oc
casion. shortly alter their marriage, the husband
was about to set oti' on a journey. His wife accom
panied him to the railway station, and there hade
him adieu. ••( buries,' she said, "remember that
1 you aro married. "Caroline," he rejoined, with
alacrity, "I will make amemoranduni of it." And j
he at one. tied :< knot in his handkerchief.
At a recent meeting of a parish, a strait
laced and most exemplary curate submitted a re
j jam in writing of the destitute widows and others
; who stood in need of assistance from the parish, i
| "Are yon sure, reverend Sir," asked another sol
j euin brother, • that you have embraced all the wid
ows?' He said he believed he had.
i TOM MOORE said to Peel,on looking at the '
picture of an Irish orator. "You can see the very .
quiver ol his lips. "Yes, said Peel, "and the j
arrow coming out of it. Moore was telling that '
to one of his countrmen. who said. lit- m ant ■
i or rah coming out of it.
A coon story is told <>i a recent "smash i
up on a Western railroad. A soldier who, in com- ,
ing from Baltimore to Rock Island, had met with •
four accidents, was on this occasion in the eat that
turned completely over. .Making bin way through 1
a window, and gaining an upright position, he 1
1 looked around him and coolly inquired :! ]
| slat ion do yon roll this
A\\ kkei> ,!OKK.--\\ hen it is a helmsman I
like a candle ?—When he s stearine. ; ,
"SIRE, one word,"' said a soldier one day !
to 1 rederick the Great, when presenting to him a •
| request tor the brevet of lieutenant. "If von say t
i two, answered the King. "I will have vou hanged." : ,
i "Sign," replied the soldier The King stared. 1 1
! whistled, and signed.
Iwo Dutchman once got into a dispute!
i about the English language, each one contending j '
that he could command the best. They made a c
1 bet at length, and appointed a judge to decide bo- I (
, tweeu them and accordingly they began : ••Yell, j
( lion, said the first, "did it rain to-morrow ?" "I '
shall tink it vash. said John. Wasn't that judge '
I in a quandary ? ;
I KNEW a young lady that said she didn't c
like turtle soup. Affectionately rebuking her. I 1
1 was answered piteously. that she didn't much oh- i
I ject to the taste, but that she thought it so cruel ' ]
i and wicked to kill turtle-doves
1
; A MILLER had his neighbor arrested under 1
the charge ot Mealing wheat from his mill, but be- ]
I i"g unable to substantiate the charge by proof the
j Court adjudged that the miller should make an!'
apology to the accused. "Well," said he, "I lmve ! 1
had you arrested for stealing my wheat ; T cnu't I |
I prove it: lam sorry for it." J t
A THRIFTY wife wonders why the men can't i 1
!do something useful. Mightn't they as well amuse | t
! themselves in smoking hams as in smoking cigars?j t
I'n ERE is said to be something consoling' 1
j lor < very ill in this life. For instance, if a man is ' C
! bald-headed his wife can't pull his hair. i (
A LADY, very fond of her husband,not with- i '
standing his ugliness of person, once said to Rog- j t
ers the poet, "What do you think ?—my husband ■ |
j has laid out titty guinics for a baboon on purpose ' j
to please me." "The dear little man," replied Rog-1
ers, "it's just like him ." j 1
IF a shoemaker approaching his end,waxes ! (
cold and gives. np his a>rl, what will become of his
sole if he can not breathe his lost *
, A LITTLE girl being sent to a store to pur- ,
j chase some dye-stuff, and forgetting the name of,
j the artice, said to the clerk : "John, what do folks j J
:dy with.' "Die with? Why, cholera sometimes," j '
replied John. "Well, I believe that's the name. I
I want to have three cents' worth."
A celebrated judge had a very stingy j (
| wife On one occasion she received his friends in j (
: the drawing-room with a single candle. "Please, '
j my dear. " said his lordship, to let us have a second i '
I candle, that we may see where the other stands." I
IXXOCEXT CREATI RE !—An old lady won
ders that. when the thread of the Atlantic cable *
was broken, the Ureal Eastern didn't give a tack or i '
I two, and so repair it. Her wonder is all the great- <
er as sin: was assured they had a very good needle i
1 on board.
1
A SOCIAL LOXTHAIUCTIUX.—Out "Juvenile '
' Correspondent" says he can not make it out, but ' i
• ho finds that, with most of bis acquaintances, he
has "fallen out,"through having neglected to "drop 1
in." . I
A JI'IHIE in Indiana threatened t<> fine a
lawyer for contempt >f court. "1 have expressed |
no contempt for the court" said the lawyer , 'on
the contrary, I have carefully concealed my feel- '
' inß*-"
Ax itinerant preacher, who rambled in J I
i his senuons, when requested to stick to his text
i replied "that scattering shot would hit the most j
birds," (
LATEST FASHIOire,
Ladies now could scarcely afford to follow
the example of the Duchess of Marlborough,
however angry they might be with their
lords. .She was very handsome, and her
head was adorned with a profusion of bright
golden locks,which were doomed to be sac
rificed to the passionate temper of their
mistress. One day when at her toilet, be
coming violently angry with her husband,
she cut off all her beautiful tresses and
liuug them in his face This curious out
burst of conjugal malice doubtless had a
salutary effect upon the Duke, for he had
taken great pride in his wife's magnificent
hair.
NUMBER 30.
The waterfall has given place to a twist
which should be called the water-wheel
I We certainly think the new style of hair
! dressing much prettier than the old; it will
I be far more becoming to most heads than
the waterfall as it has lately been worn
The late Parisian fashions tell us that for
paletots which are to be worn when a dres
sy toilet is required, a new sort of plush,
called mble d'or? is likely to be very popu
lar. It is well-named, because the ground
work of this material appears to be gold
en sand. In both violet and maroon it is
very effective. It is likewise used for bun
nets. Short black velvet jackets, trimmed
with straps of colored velvet, and large
false pockets in front,arc worn by growing
girls who are young enough to sport hats
in preference to bonnets. They are too fan
ciful and conspicuous for any save girls
from ten to iiltcen—always a very difficult
age to dress advantageously
Petticoats are very brilliant this winter:
but those who can not afford a great variety
of these under, or, as they have now be
come, upper garments, will find the black
and white stripes more serviceable than
the elaborate and gayer patterns. These
stripes do not date themselves, and can bo
worn under dresses of every color.
Speaking of the present fashion of dress
es, the Paris letter of the Daily Telegraph
says :
''The story of the ' Maitre d'Hotel' com
ing up to tell Madame X., who had paid her
compliments to her host and taken her seat,
that her dress was shut in the carriage
door, is hardly an exaggeration, so long
have the trains became."
The writer's description of the last new
thing in bonnets is "a brown velvet dice
box, with a little shade over the forehead,
and what at restaurants they would call a
' potion ' of woodcock stuck on the top."
Bonnets, from their earliest days, iiav
always been open to ridicule and criticism.
Once in a while a sensible and pretty style
has been adopted : but far more often they
have been ill adapted to their purpose, if
that purpose is a pretty, comfortable cover
ing for the head. The first bonnet worn in
England was brought from Italy in tie
reign of Queen Elizabeth, and its form was
a compromise between the present Italian
peasant-hat and the French hood. The ma
terials employed in constructing these head
ornaments were crimson satin, elaborately
embroidered cloth of gold, and similar
rich materials. The Leghorn fiat, with per
pendicular crown and wide brim, standing
out far around the face, was the first legit
imate bonnet worn, and this appeared long
after Queen Elizabeth's time. It was trim
med with artificial flowers and immense
bows of ribbons.
EFFECTS OF IMAGIXATIOX OX DISEASE. — The
experiments attributed to a physician at St.
Petersburg, during the cholera epidemic in
that city several years ago, and probably
in the minds of some of our readers. This
physician obtained of the authorities tw.i
criminals who had been condemned to death,
to do with them as he thought fit. One o
these convicts was made to sleep in ;t bed
in which, as he was told, a man had died
with the oh >!era but the night before—Al
though such was not the fact. After a rest
less night, the criminal was taken with all
the symptoms of cholera, and died of that
disease, declaring that he had caught it
from the bed—a victim to his own fears.—
fhe other was made to sleep on a bed
wherein a man had died but a few hours
previously ol the fatal disease. This fact,
however, was unknown to the occupant of
the bed, who arose in the morning refresh
ed by his sleep.remaining in perfect health
ihe stories, also,will occur to many, of men
who,on being condemned by bleeding,were
blindfolded, and after slight punctures with
needles, placed so that water would trickle
slowly troii! the fancied wound. The men,
believing that they were bleeding to death,
exhibited precisely similar symptoms to
persons who were undergoing the reality,
even to death. These tacts certainly show
that fear and imagination exercise a great
and controlling effect on disease.
GIANTS —In the time of Augustus*(Jiesar
there were two persons living in Rome
called ldusio and Secundilla, each of whom
exceeded ten feet iu height. Their bodies,
after death, were kept and preserved as
miracles ol curiosity in a sepulchre within
the Sallustian gardens. Pliny names ;t
certain Gabara, who in the days of ('laud
ens was brought out of Arabia ; and says
he was nine feet nine inches high. The
Emperor Maximiu, originally a Thracian
peasant, measured eight feet and a half
His wife's bracelets served him as rings.
His voracity was such that he consumed
daily forty pounds of flesh ami drank eight
een bottles of wine. His strength was
proportionable to his gigantic shape. He
could draw a loaded wagon without help,
and with a blow of his fist often broke the
teeth in a horse's mouth. He also crushed
the hardest stones between his fingers, and
cleft frees with his hands. Pliny and Val
erius Maxiinus speak of Polydamas, a cel
ebrated athlete, styi of Niclas, who exceed
ed all men of his day in stature ai d
strength : be aped Hercules, not without
pretension. In Mount Olympus he killed a
lion with a blow of his list, being unprovi
ded with any other arms. He could stop a
chariot with his baud in its most rapid
course. Once he singled out the largest
and fiercest bull from a whole herd, took
hold of him by one of his hinder feet, and
notwithstanding his struggle to escape,
grasped him with such strength that the
hoof remained in his hand.
THE AMF.SDF. HONORABLE.—'The JockyC'lub
(says (ialignani's Messenger) lias just lost
one of its most amiable members, M. Alex
andre Bolichet. The following anecdote is
related of him : " Perceiving one day, after
a heavy fall of rain, a very well dressed
young woman standing at the edge of tin
side pavement of the Boulevard, and evi
dently much perplexed as to the best
method of traversing tin- sea of mud be
fore her, he gallantly advanced, took her
up in his arms, and carried her aoross dry
shod. The lady made no objection to the
mode of transit, but, on being setdown, ex
pressed her gratitude as follows, 'Sir, you
are an insolent fellow !' Thereupon, M.
Bouchct immediately repaired the wrong
by again transporting her, with the same
precautions, to the very spot where he had
first met her, and took his leave with a
profound salutation."
Si SHAY is the golden clasp that binds to
gether the volume of tfie week.