THE ' MONTROSE 'DEMOG'.:',',...AT.
E. B. HAWLEY, Proprietor.
ttoincoo 6ardo.
DR. W. W. SMITH,
Mirrrtne. Rooms nt his dwelling, text door cast of the
Republican printing odlee. Office hours from 9L. I.
to 4 Ir. x, Montrone. Sin? $, 187 I—U
IntrellAlMEß—Flo! Hal Ilan
Charley Mon is la the barber, who tan shave your fate to
order• Cute brown. Matt and grit:Joy hair, in Ms
otlieejust up stales. There you will find him, over
Gore's More. below Mdienziee.—oast cum door.
Montrose, June 141.—tt C. MORRIS.
J. U. & A. U. IIieCOLLUM,
ATTOlitillTS AT LIM Wilco over the Dank, Montrose
£3,. Montrom, May 10, IS7I. It
DR. D. A. LATIIROP.
Ma* opened an office, at the font of Me-shout street, near
the Catholic Church, when: he eau be consulted at all
tinses.
Montrose, April M, lfta. ly
•
CROSSMON &. BALDWIN,
&TTORNEYS AT LAW.—Office over the store of Wm
J. Mulford, on Pabllc Avenge, Montrose Ps.
W. A. Cnossann. l B. L. Elawins.
Montrose, Mareh 151. tt.
J. D. GAIL,
001ILOTATIIIC PIaYsICIAS ♦ND Summon. itu permanently
Moiled himself in Montrose, Pa., where he trill prompt
ly attend to all colts in hie profession with which be may
be favored. °lnce and residence - .cyst of the oourt
lionae, near Fitch d. Watoou'e office.
Montrose, February ft, 1811.
LAW OFFICE'
WATSOS, littorneve at Lalt, At the old office
of Ilcntley Montro4., Ps.
1.. r. ITTCII. (Zan. w. w.
CHARLES N. STODDARD,
beater In neots and Shoes, fiats and Caps, Leather and
Findings, Main Street s let door below Bond's Store.
Work made to order, and repairing done neatly.
Mootrose. Jan. 1, latO,
LrrrLcs & BLAKESLEE,
Attorneys and Counsellors at Law. Office this one
'neretcdore rwampled by IL It. ,t G. P. Little, on Mato
street, Montrose, Pa. [April2o.
a. artttr.. ono. r. Lrrri.E. G L. az...erstaie.
tt. licKsases. C. C. Farmer, W. IL McCain.
McKENZIE, FAUROT & CO.
Dealers In Dry Goods, Clothing, Ladles and Aliases
line Shoes. &leo, agents few the great American
Tea and Coffee Company. [Montrose, Pa ,0p.1,-:0.
LEWIS KNOLL,
SHAVING AND HAIR DRESSING
Shop in the new Poatofilee building, where he will
the Coned ready to attend all Avlin may want anything
5n Me line. Montrose, Pa. Oct. 13, 18GS.
0. M. HAWLET,
DEALER in DRY GOODS, GROCERIES. CROCKERY
flardware. Hat., Cap•, Boota.Shoes. Reads Made Cloth
lug. Paints, Oils, etc., NOV Milford, Pa. [Sept. & '59.
DR. S. W. DAYTON,
PHYSICIAN C SURGEON. tender. hi• services t•
the citizens or Orem Bend end vicinity Ogee et his
residenee. opposite Barnum House, G't. Bend village.
Sept. let. DVl.—tf
A. 0. WARREN,
ATTORNEY A LAW. Bounty, Beek Pay. Pension
and grem -on Claime attended to. (Mee -
• our below Boyd'e Store,' Idontrore.Pa. [An. 1,'69
C. SUTTON,
Auctioneer, and Insurance Agent,
Frlendwllle. Pa.
C. S. GILBERT,
guaSioasoor.
Great. Bend, Pa
11. EA
'Logi f
SLY,
TT. EL .A.l.2.aticark.e.cor.
Ann. 1, ItiG9.. Address, Brooklyn, PL,
JONES GROVES,
PARIIIONITILE TNI/aR, Montrose Shoo over
r o
Chandle,orders anedin and-rata atre.
ttlithw, dne on abort notice. and warranted to at.
w. w. surrn,
CABINET AND CHAIR MANtTACURERB.—VooI
of Main street, Montrose, Pft )sng. I. 1869.
S. BURRITT,
DEALER In Staple and Fnncy Dry Goods, Crockery
Hardware, Iron, Stores, Dry ga, Oils, and Paints
Doutsand Shoes. Elate & Caps. Fors, Buffalo Robes
Groceries.Provhdons. c New Milfrd, Pa.
DR. E. P. LIMES,
Has permanently located at Friendsvitio for the par
alm of practicing medicine and surgery In all its
branches. He may be found at the Jackson House.
Ogles hours from 8 a. m., to 3. p. ta.
Priendscille, Pa., Ang, 1. 18119.
STROUD & BROWN,
FIRE AND LIFE INS 7,IANCE AGENTS. At .
business attended to promptly, on fair terms. Office
Arot dour north of ' Montrose Motel," treat Ode o•
hablic Avenue, Montrose, Pa. [Aug.1,1869.
Erasmus Synotrn, Cairns* L. Dnown.
•
vrm. D. LURK,
ATTONEY AT LAW, Montrose. Pa. °Mee eppo.
cite t h e Tarbell Bonne, near the Cann 'loam
Aug. 1. 1359.--cf
ABEL TERRELL,
D PALER in Drugs, Patent Medicines, Chemicals
Liquors, Paints, Gils,Dye t•tnirs. Varnishes, Win -te
Glass. Groceriet, Glass Ware, Wall and Window Pa,
par, Stone-ware, Lamps, Kerosene, Machinery Oils.
Trusses, Gans, Ammunition, Knives. Spectacles
Bruthe., Fancy Goods, Jewelry, Perla .cry,
being !one orthe most numerous, extensive, and
valuable collections of Goods in Susquehanna Co.—
Established In 1849. [Montrose, Pa.
D. W. SEARLE,
S'
LC
he
LAW. office over the note of A.
Lathrop, in the Brick Block. Montrose, Pa. janlls9
DR. W. L. RICIIAILDSON,
PSICLAN & SURGEON, tenders his professions
s ßT ervices to the citizens of Montrose and vicinity.—
Office at his residence, on the corner east of Sayre &
Eros. Foundry. (Aug. 1, 1669.
DR. E. L. GARDNER,
PIITSICL&R and IiBRGEON, Montrose, Pa. Gives
especial attention to diseases of the lieut. and
.Lungs and all Sun:lest diseases. Office or W. B.
"Demo Boards at Searle's Hotel. fAng. ve
13G8.
BURNS & NICHOLS,
BgAt. ARS in Drugs, Medicines, Chemicals, Dye
-10...115, Paints, Oils, Varnish, Liquors, Spier*. Fancy
r
n t .cros., Psiont Medicines, Perfumery and Toilet M
lee. IclPPrescriptions carefully compcmded.—
1 untie Avennu, above Searle'a Lintel. Montrose, Pa
A. B. Bunn-a, Amos Timm:rut.
4uf: 1. 18119.
DR, E, HANDRICK,
ruTsiciaN £ SURDEON, respectfully tenders hi'
professional services to the citizen of Friendsville
and vicinity. lar Dace !nth° Cate of Dr. Lees
atvls at J. Uosford's. Aug. 1,104.
HUNT BROTHERS,
SCR.&..NTON, PA.
Wholesale & Retail Dnlersta
HARDWARE; IRON, STEEL,
NAILS,.SPIKES, SHOVELS,
BUILDER'S HARDWARE,
lulu RAIL, cousTERSUNK d T RAIL Rpnrzs
RAILROAD A MINING SUPPLIES.
OXLDIAGE SPRINGS. AXLES, SKEINS AEI,
" 'DOZES. BOLTS, NUTS and ITABEEI2B,
PLATED BAND& MALLEABLE
IRONS. HUBS, SPoKES,
JULIANS. SEAT SPINDLES, DOW,S r rte.
oviss.'-vlcEs, STOCKS and B ELLOWS
GAUZES. SLEDGES. PILES, 6e.6e.
CIRCULAR AND MILLSAw,EOLTING. PACKING
• TACKL E EENT; I BLOC IAIR E
.5 GEMSTONES.SI PLOTER PARIS
C
!WWII WLNDOPAW GLMLLIKASS E' .LEATIIRILS FINDINGS
S SCALE? ,
anAton. March IL 1803.
MVO HUBBARD!
•
I'ATIONIZZ HOKE IWIWACTUEE I
Cigisatini;Ecati3a4YOut Ltnartvirene4.4.!
Alscdtie Great Obin Nattatusl Pm:dame, held at Mau
Laid, in 78113.
~:' tirii.
The cawing le simple. compact, removed entirely from
the drive wheels, .0 enctesed in a 'neat nth. Iq tlld
centre of the znachine,'effectually *hearing it fruit! t
• 1
and
Te operation can be changed instantly frotti a high
"y e w t o obe rahrladower. without atop., thus adapt:
inn itself to bad:p l acid light and heavy
One•cuttlue dle perfect. No brake= one
patent knifeh beyond doubt the peg
g whine in the world. _7Ol l aTeril tra ttp
perfectly reltablein every •
' Sontroae, Nay 3, 1871.—il BAYEE4I%.
Tufo Contr.
VirrMen for harper'. Weekly.
Gone With a Handsomer Man.
DT WILL M. CARLTON
I've worked In the field all day, a-plowin' the
"stony streak ;"
I've scoldwl my wan till I'm hoarse ; I've tramp
ed till my legs are weak;
Pve cloaked a dozen swears (so's not to tell
Jane ' tlbs)
When the plow-Vint struck a stone and the
handles punched my ribs.
rve put my team In the barn, and rubbed their
sweaty coats;
rve fed 'em a heap of hay and half a bushel of
oats;
And to gee the wny they eat makes mo like eat
in' feel,
And Jane won't say to-night that I don't mako
out a meal.
Well said! the door Is locked! but here she's
left the key,
Under the step, in a place known only to her
and, me ;
wonder who's dyin' or dead, that she hustled
oil pell-mell:
But hero on the table's a note, and probably this
will telL
Good God! my wife is gone! my wife is gone
astray !
The letter it says, "Goal-by, for rm a-going
away;
I've lived with yQI.I six months, John, and so fur
rye been true;
But rm going away to-day with a handsomer
man than you."
A han'somer man than me! Why, that ain't
much to say;
There's han'somer men than me go past here
every day.
There's han'somer men '.ll:m me—l ain't of the
han'some kind ;
But a iorin'er man than I was I gums she'll nev
er find.
Curse her! curse her! I say, and give my curses
wings!
May the words of love I've spoken ho changed
to scorpion stings!
Oh, She filled my heart with joy, she emptied
my heart of doubt,
And now, with the scratch of a pen, she lets my
heart's blood out !
Curse her ! curse her ! say 1; she'll some time
rue this day;
She'll some time learn that hate Is a game that
two can play ;
And long before she dlclishe'll grieve she ever
was born;
And I'll plow her grave with' hate, and seed it
down with scorn
As sure as the world goes on, there'll come a
time when she
Will read the devilish heart of that han'somer
man than me;
And there'll be a time when he will find, as
others do,
That she who false to one can be the same
with two.
And when her face grows pale, and when her
eyes grow dim,
And when he a tired of her and she is tired of
She'll do what she ought to have done, and
coolly count the cost;
And then she'll see things clear, and know what
she has lost.
And thoughts that are now asleep will wake up
in her mind,
And she will mourn and cry for what she has
lett behind;
And maybe she'll sometimes long for me—for
me—but no!
I've blotted her out of my heart., and I will not
have it so.
And yet in her girlish heart there was somethin'
or other she had
That fastened a man to her, and wasn't entire
ly bad;
And she loved me a little, I think, although it
didn't last ;
But I mustn't think of these things—lv'e buried
'em in the past,
ru take my hard words back, nor make a bad
matter worse ;
She'll have trouble enough; she shall not have
my CUM ;,
Bat I'll live a life so square—and I well know
that I can—
That she always will sorry be that she went
with that lum'somer man.
Ali, here is her kitchen dress! it makes my poor
eyes blur;
It seems, when I look at that, as itytwas hold
in' her.
And here are her week-day shoes, and there Is
her week-day hat,
And yonder's her weddin' gown: I wonder ale
didn't take that.
'Twee only this mornin' she came and called me
her dearest dear,"
And said I was makin' for her a regular para
dise here;
0 God! if you want a men to sense the pains
of hell,
Before you pitch him in just keep him in heaven
a spell !
Good by p I I wish that Death had severed us two
aart.
You've lost a woshiper hero—you've crushed a
lovin' heart.
I'll worship no woman again ; but I guess I'll
learn to pray,
And kneel as YOU used to kneel before you run
away.
And if I thought I could bring my words on
heaven to beat,
And if I thought 1., had some little influence
there,
I would pray that I might be, if It only could
be so,
As happy and gay as I was a half an hour ago.
essz—(l:avrrarso4--
Why, John, what a litter here! you've thrown
things all around
Come, what's the matter now? and what've
you lost or tumid?
And here's my father here, a-waiting for supper,
too;
Pre been a-riding with him—he's that mhan'som
er man than you."
Ha! ha I Pa, take a seat, while I put the h.et
tle on,
And get things ready for tea, and kiss my dear
old John.
Why, John, you look so strange! Come, wha t
has crossed your track
I was only it joking, you know : rm willing to
take it
Joma--(ssma.)—
Well;itow, if this Ara'; g 4oke, with rather a
bitter cream!
It seems as if I'd woke from a mighty tiekligh
dream;
And I think the "smells a rat," for sheamiles at
me so queer;
/11o . pe she don't ; good Lord! I hope that they
• •didn't hear!
'Twee one of her practical (hives—ehe thought
rd understand!
!it Fll never break so 4 win HU I get the by
of the bad.
Bqt 4 46 (*P. 4644 with me -la mrectate
4esivl well,
'4'ol o o tor 4 z k 4 tt! IkaTe twat tP*ll minute*
MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESDAY AUGUST 9, 1871.
X cellancau~.
MY INTIMATE FRIEND-A STORY
FOR WIVES.
For years I bad longed for an intimate
lady friend. Not that I was an unloving
wife or had an unloving husband, but
there are a thousand things interesting to
women, which one does not want to talk
about to one's liege lord, even though he
be the light of one's eyes and the star of
one's existence.
.....
So as I said before I longed for a lady
friend, and being very hard to suit, I long
ed a long time before I found the right
one. Of course I was the victim of sever
al mistakes before "my affinity" really
smiled upon me, just as the men almost
always are when looking out for "some
one to love—some one to caress."
Mrs. A. for a brief time seemed the
realization of my dreams, but I soon dis
covered her heart was as false as her hair,
and her mind as shallow as her eyes.
Mrs. B. next attracted my attention,
but she proved vain, insincere and super
ficial.
Mrs. E. could talk of nothing but the
fashions, and Mrs. H. of nothing but the
men. I wanted a true, sensible, poetical
soul. I jingled rhymes a little myself.
With a yellow jingler how harmoniously
life would glide on.
I took very little interest in the cut of
a sleeve, or the set of a what-d'ye-call-em.
My friend must also be one who took no
interest in the set of what-d'ye-call-ems,
but whose thoughts soared far above the
petty trifles which absorb most women's
time.
I wore my own hair, teeth, complexion
and eyebrows. I gloried in the conscious
ness that, though poor, they were my
on n.
Should she, the fair unknown, also
wear her own hair, teeth, complexion and
eyebrows, my cup of bliss would indeed
be full. Owing nothing to art, and still
less to artfulness, how sweet the current
of our united lives would flow.
At last I found her. "Eureka," I said,
or words to that efftet.
It was at one of Mr. L's parties. When
she entered the room I felt—" This is my
female mate."
True, she was draped in the costliest fa
brics—dianionth glittered on her taper
fingers, on her slender wrists and in her
much-curled hair. But. in her large, sad
grey eyes I saw her calm, silent, reserved
behaviour told of her dislike to these
scenes of so-called mirth.
I knew that she thought the golden mo
ments of time too precious to be wasted
in such frivolities.
In the proud yet humiliated glance she
cast upon her husband I read the glory
of another bright spirit bound to one of
the earth, earthly. (She told me after
ward that all these suppositions were per
fectly correct.)
That 011:01, i" ‘
, ix ebt, u• a ,vrro mtrouncen
to each other, sh remarked, in a sweet
,4
lisping voice. "I ear that you arc a poet
ess—the only onerl have ever met in this
weary, selfish, fakhionable circle. And
why do you come here ?" with a bright,
indulging smile.
"Principally to make fun of the coin
pally," I confessed ; "and you, our hostess
tells me, you also court the muses."
" 0 !" with a shrug of her satin-cover
ed shoulders, "my husband wishes me to
come."
We found no opportunity of talking
that evening, for supper was announced.
It fell to my Charles' lot to lead Mrs. W.
(you see I had jumped to the other end of
the alphabet) to supper, and as they pass
ed me I caught the words:
" What a sweet little creature your wife
is; I am postively in love with her."
Rapture,! my affection returned. The
patient search of years was rewarded. I
had found at last my intimate friend.
That night, or rather next morning, as
Lstood in my room wearily disentangling
the flowers from my hair, I remarked to
him:
" Isn't she lovely ?"
Upon which he remarked to me. "Not
at all."
. .
" Oh! my dearest," continued I. be
tween two yawns which I could not re
press, "I am sure you are mistaken. In
her face I find intellect, sensibility, deep
feeling and poetry."
"And I find," returned the disagreea
ble thing, "selfishness, artfulness, smart
ness, and no poetry."
"Charles!" said I, with dignity, "I love
her."
" Better let her alone," muttered he.
Here the argument ended, fur he had
fallen asleep.
But the more I thought about her the
more I was resolved not to let her alone.
Poor suffering thing—chained io that
worldly creature, drugged about by him
from party to party, decked in finery, load
ed with jewels, and all to do him honor.
A poetess. How I should like to read her
poems—heart-breaking things no doubt
they were; she showed some to me after
we bad communed about a month, and
one, iu which she spoke of "loathing, her
chains yet hugging them," brought tears
to my eyes.
And so in spite of Charles' advice to
the contrary (men are so disagreeable
sometimes) Eva Theresa became my in
timate friend.
0! how we loved each other. She was
never happy away from me. I was never
happy away from her. Morn noon and
dewy eve we were together. I read her
the little effusions of my muse, and she
read me the great effusion of her muse.
Our life was delicious.
Sometimes, I mast admit, her conduct
Eeemed strange to me. As, for instance,
when she refused a few cents to a wound
ed soldier, saying, with tears in her eyes,
that Mr. W. objected to give money to
beggars, and the next moment expend
ed a dollar on' confectionery—or when
she nourished three or Am hundred dol
lars in crisp bank notes, regretting with
a sigh that she was obliged to spend them
all on herself, for she had promised Mr.
IV. to do so—or when she requested me
to be sure and bring my own needles and
thread, when I proposed to visit her with
my sewing,
As I remarked before, these things some
what confused me, for I could not for
the life of me understand how Mr. W.
VV. I 4 d cqv@r wilo.llo th 4/ dQllar was
given to the soldier or paid to the confec
tioner, or how he was to find out if a few
dollars out of three or four hundred were
spent for inmebody beside Eva Theresa,
or, most puzzling of all, what could he
know about my needles and thread ?
" be is such a man tyrant," need
to be nit final conclusion, "that poor, dear
Eva Thinsa is in mortal dread of him,
and imakines he is obiquitous."
And jet the monster seemed a good
sort of nlnster—that is, to Eva Theresa.
He bright her constantly , the richest
gifts. Eery day she received from him
delicious fruits and lovely flowers. He
snrroundel her with books, pictures, and
all sorts ofoegant things. Her diamonds
were the n4st costly, her dresses the most
gorgeous daily in our circles.
" But wbk are diamonds to a starved
spirit, or vehet robes to a thirsty heart?"
asked Eva 'Theresa. "My tyrant wills
that I should deck myself gaily, and I
obey him ; bat these rich habiliments
bring no relief than anguished soul."
I noticed, however, on several occasions,
and it struck me as being rather odd at
the time, that Eva Theresa addressed her
"tyrant" ai"my beloved," or "my heart's
treasure."
Well ear friendship progressed. We
read together, sewed together - (when I
brought my own needle and thread,) rode
together (when I paid for the carriage,)
and walked together ad libitum.
My husband, to my great delight, be
gan to find pleasure in her company, and
she, thought she detested men ("unfelling,
selfish brutes" she called them,) through
my influence at last confessed that Charles
was an exception to the general rule.
She spent long evenings with us, and
he took her home. Sometimes I offered
to accompany them, bit dear, thoughtful
Eva Theresa would my, "Positively, I
shan't stay here again 1 1 am to dra g you,
you little delicate crature, out of the
house at this time of right. Much as I
would love b - ) have yos. with me, dear, I
know that it is better for you to remain
at home." And she would -arrange the
sofa-pillows fur me, insist upon lying
down, kiss me tendel, and then walk off
with my husband.
It was fifteen mitutes' walk to Eva
Theresa's residence. !couldn't help notic
ing that the blue-eyll one never returned
li
under an hour. " ` u must have walked
slowly," said I one oulight night, when
he bud been gone n hour and a half.
"You begin to liki Eva Theresa very
much." i
i s
"I find her inte Ling—as a study,"
answered he, with a mile. Charles is a
great admirer of T 1 ekeray.
It happened tha after my friendship
for Eva'Theresa hal lasted fur about a
year I fell ill.
The the devotion of my intimate friend
would have touched the heart of a stone,
that is if a stone calla be found with a
heart. She came every day to see me,
thm-egv% - itt . ed ths..tgie coal . d . not bringme
I could, lure." l'lm r ci t she had plenty of
them every day hersA, but then of course
that dreadful Mr. W.bad a way for dis
covering just how maq-grapes and orang
es she ate and how mall- - flowers she smelt.
She bathed my head wth the cologne she
found on my bureau—be did every thing
for me she could do.
There was one halcination on her
part, however, which, hick as I was, I
strongly objected to. he insisted at all
times that I needed peep, and stealing
from the room on tipt would beckon to
my husband to ibllow;s0 that I might be
left to perfect quiet.
Now "perfect quiet' was just what I
did not want. I,wanted to be amused,
and I must con f& that, I shed a few tears
each time they lei, meellone.
One bright Juhe mottling I felt' better.
The sunshine streamed into the room.
I could see the btxutiful blue sky from
my bed. The scald of children's voices
came up pleasantly to me Irom the street,
and best of al/ my letisband sat beside me
holding my hand is his, and telling me
how glad he was thit summer was bring
ing health to his dew wife.
Eva Theresa enteted—something dis
turbed her—she almost frowned—then
smiling again, she fastened to my side,
laid a boquet of violets on my pillow, and
gave nr a poetical Itss.
" I cennot say a Moment," she said. "I
have to prepare for afashionable wedding.
I dont pant to go ore bit," with a childish
pout, "lut Mr. W. insists upon it. So
good-bye, dear, I amso glad you are so
much better. I will see you again to
' morrow. 4, And as ale turned away she
held out her baud totharles. lie extend-
ed his, but by some Mischance the paper
she intended to plaee within it fluttered
down on the bed. and I secured it.
It was the smallist possible note, fra
grant with rose perlime.
"Some pretty veite she wished him to
read me in herabsAse," I thought, "full
of June sunshine ant flowers," and I slow
ly tin folued
This was the pout :
"Will you again 'refuse to meet me?
Once mote I throw.' o the 'trim' my wo
manly pride, and earefit you. Charles, I
love you; 0! so myth better than that
childish creature you mill wife ever could.
I do not ask you to forsake her" (kind
Eva Theresa), "let her dream on, but let
me loveyou too. Meet me this afternoon."
(At the fashionable wedding." "She is
well enough to be left alone. I have so
much to say to you. 0 that I could melt
that ice heart. Your indifference drives
me almost mai.
"I pray you be generous for once, and
grant me the interview I crave."
My most intimate friend. My dreamy,
sonsative,paelical Eva Theresa!
My sight became clear. I saw her as
she was—noel, mean, selfish and artfuL
I handedothe poem" to my husband.
"Never let that woman enter my doors
again," exclaimed I, with vehemence.
" Certainly not, if' you don't wish to
have her," replied he, calmly.
" And)•ou ?" asked I, eagerly.
"My little one," with a smile, 'grow
this moment I forgot we ever know h 4.
Since then I have had no intimate lady
friend.
—lt is said that woman now lecture on
every subject but washing, darning and
the economy of the household. All.these
things are sealed books to the strong-
Utitl(K,
How the Fool Tricked the High-
W 1331111111,
Never beard of Redmond O'Hanlan,
the Irish highway robber ? Well, that's
surprising. The English Turpins and
French lluvals couldn't hold a candle to
the Irish highwayinsp. But for all his
shrewdness he met his match once, and
I'll tell you how it was.
Redmond was a fine, strapping, gentle
manly fellow, and a devoted admirer of
the ladies—as where is the Irishman that
is not ?—and what is more, a friend to
the poor, as you'll admit when I tell you
that his demands for cash were only made
of those persons who could afford to meet
them, and he delighted in forcing con
tributions from those who had the name
of being hard landlords to their tenants.
There was one of this class whom Red-
mond never lost an opportunity of taxing
—for that was the polite name he gave to
his own robberies. Every quarter day,
this gentleman or one of his servants—
sometimes more than one—use to make a
journey of six or seven miles to call for
his rents; and as regular as clock work,
there was Redmond O'Hanlan, with some
stout companions, if necessary, to waylay
the collector as he returned home. Every
means was used to elude him, but to no
purpose ; he had spies everywhere, and
contrived,to get the exact information he
wanted in advance. So one quarter day
when the gentleman's servants asked. him
about going for the rents, he swore at
O'llaulan, and said ho did not see the use
of collecting money to hand over to him.
Now this gentleman had on his estate a
boy called "Jerry the Fool" who had the
run of the house, and made fun for the
family. He had a great conceit of him
self, and when he heard what the master
said, he immediately asked to be allowed
to go after the rents for once, and declared
that he would know the way to bring them
safe home. Of course he was only laughed
at ; but when he represented that no harm
could come from trying, as he couldn't
do worse than all those who had gone be
fore him, the master agreed to humor him.
Upon that, Jerry made some preparations
as were necessary, chose the worst horse in
the stable—an old hack, half blind, and
three quarters lame—and started on his
enterprise. Nothing occurred on the way.
lie collected • a cousiderble amount of
money, carefully disposed of it about his
person, and started hornewirds. • Toward
evening, as he was quietly jogging along
on the old hack, and was just entering a
long lane with high hedges on each side, a
tall, tine-looking man rode up to him on a
handsome roan mare.
-God save you, my man r says the gen
tlc man.
"God save your honor!" replied Jerry.
" What's your name, my man ?" says
the gentleman.
"Jerry the Fool, and I'm not ashamed
of IL What's yours ?"
The gentleman took no notice of this
question. After a while he says:
nni mnla vnn'.o
Jerry.
"Faith, and I'm glad your honor likes
it," 'rays Jerry ; "but it isn't myself that'd
cure to take a lease of his life. But he'll
serve my term any way, for its not in
much of a hurry I am traveling—l've only
been to the village beyond to collect the
master's rents fur him."
"Surely he is not such a fool as to trnsi
you with that job !"
"Arrah, why not ?" asked Jerry.
"Why, don't you know that Redmond
O'Hanlan's on the road!"
"Redmond O'Hanlan is it," says Jerry.
" Ugh! That for Redmond O'lfanlan !"
says he snapping his fingers. "Fais, Jer
ry the fool is a match for a dozen of the
likes of him any day in the week, and Sun
day into the bargain,"
The stranger laughed and they rode on
in silence till they came to a very lonely
part of the road, when he drew a brace of
pistol and told Jerry to hand over all the
money he had about him, or he'd try if he
had brains by sending a couple of bullets
through his head.
"Meata-murther," roared Jerry, in a
tone of surprise and fright. " You don't
mean to say that your honor is Redmond
O'Hanlan.
"I do indeed. So hand over my man,
and look sharp about it."
" But fait, its kilt intirely by the !nes
ter I'll be if I go home without the rents."
"What's that to me? asked O'Haulan.
"Anyhow," says Jerry. "I must show
them that I bad a murdering fight for it.
Perhaps your honor wouldn't mind firing
a shot through my old beaver." O'Hau
lan did so, laughing at the trick.
"And now another through the breast
of my coat, and Heaven bless you." This
was done. "Now just one is the skirt of
it and good luck to your honor."
"But I've discharged both of my pistols,
and dont want the trouble of loading them
again for you."
"Faix I should dearly liken shot through
the skirts; it would show that I fought
desperate. Are you sure your honor hasn't
another pistol in your poeket that you
wouldn't mind firing for a poor boy's
sake ?"
"Confound it! To be sure I am. Hand
over your money, or I'll beat you to a jelly
with my horse-whip."
"Well," says Jerry, after a good deal of
fumbling. "I suppose, considering the
trouble I've had in collecting these ruts,
your honor wont mind going over the
hedge after them."
And he threw over a sack apparently
well filled with coin. Half laughing, half
angry, the highwayman—first aiming a
blow at Jerry with his whip, which lie
avoided by ducking— dismounted, and
climbed over the hedge; and no sooner
had lie done so, than Jerry slipped off
the old hack, and. mounted, 011anlan's
horse.
"Bad scrim to yon Redmond O'Han
lan 1" he bawled. "Didn't I tell von Jer
ry the Fool was a. match for-a dozen of
you ? It's a sack of brass buttons you've
gone over the hedge after, you thief - of the
world!" And touching the fine mare with
the spurs ho galloped off, singing .at • the
top of his voice the old melody, "Go to
the mischief and shako yourself !" O'Han
lan couldn't pursue him on the hick,and
the cute fool had made him discharge his
pistols. There was nothing for it but to
walk away, cursing his own stupidity and
ever after if any one wanted to provoke
him, they had only to ask him when be
bad last seen Jerry the Fool,
VOLUME XXVIII, - NUMBER 32.
Horrible Atibiro,
One of the most horrible affairs that
ever transpired in the annals of crime,
has just come to light near Gilman, and
resulted, yesterday morning, in a double
tragedy.
On the night of June 13, an Irishman
named Martin Mears, residing two miles
from Gilman, gave his little son, aged
eleven years, a severe beating, for some
slight offense. On the following morning,
he told the boy to get up•and build a fire,
when the little fellow said lie was unable
to do so. Ileum then kindled a fire, and
when the stove was nearly red hot, went
to the bed, took the boy out, and deliber
ately set him on the stove and held him
there until the flesh was burned off and
hip bones protruded. The smell of the
burning flesh almost suffocated the in
mates of the house, and the screams of
the little sufferer could be heard for more
than a quarter of a mile, Tho wife of the
human fiend was confined to herbed with
an infant only a day old, and was unable
to offer any resistance beyond feeble ex
postulation.
The boy succeeded iu getting off the
stove, when the inhuman father seized
him and again placed him upon it, this
time standing him on his feet and hold
ing him there until the flesh was burned
from his feet. Ile then took him from
the stove, struck him repeatedly on the
head, and threw him under the bed.
The monster at this point seems to
have become frightened at what he had
done, and pulling the boy from under
the bed, began to pour whiskey down
him, which somewhat revived him. He
told the boy to stand up, but the poor
sufferer said : " Father, I cannot see any
more." He was probably in a dying con
dition at that time, but the father cooly
kuoeked the boy in the head, and instantly
ended his sufferings. Telling his wife
and daughter not ° to divulge what had
transpired, if they valued their lives, he
prepared the remains of the boy for burial.
by pirrniug them up In a sheet. He then
dug a grave near a hedge, deposited the
body therein, and carefully replaced the
earth, the subsoil first, so as to almost de
fy detection. He harrowed over the spot,
and, as he supposed, carefully removed all
evidence of his crime,
He went to Gilman, stating that his
boy had run away, and. procured some
handbills, offering a reward for his recov
ery.
On last Thursday the suspicions of the
neighbors having been aroused, thy, de
termined upon a search for the body of
the boy, who many of them believed to
have been murdered. Mr. McCourtie, of
Omarga, headed the inveitigutions, and
was assisted by about fifty neighbors.
They went to the daughter of the brute,
at a school, and by assuring her that they
would not allow her father to hurt her,
drew from her lips the details of the hor
rible affair, as even abo i re, i groffeeNlG L tit
uy, ant gitiMetTg Torching fur the re
mains of the boy. Meara declared he
was innocent, that the boy had run away,
and said he would give $2,000 fur his re
covery.
The attention of one of the party en
gaged in the search was at length attract
ed by a small lump of subsoil which lay
upon the surface near the hedge. Sharp
ened sticks were procured, and by their
means a soft spot was discovered. Upon
digging down the body of a boy wus
found and the guilt of the father made
certain. An Meara was lodged in jail at
Watseka, to await his trial in October.
The people were naturally much exci
ted, and several days ago it, became al
most a certainty that the courts would
not be troubled with the trial of the inhu
man monster. It is reported that after his
arrest he said the only thing he regretted
about the affair was that he bed not kill
ed his wife and daughter, and thus de
stroyed all witnesses. The excitement
grew more intense and finally culminated
in the dispatch publiEtmd
CHICAGO, July 9.
The following are theparticulars of the
lynching of Meara, the child murderer, at
Watseka, 111., on Wednesday last. The
crowd numbered first about one hundred,
led by Dr. Daniels, of Omargo. When they
demanded the prisoner the sheriff refused
to give him up, and upon Daniels attempt
ing to enter discharged his revolver at
him. Daniels struck tip his arm and
wrenched the pistol from his hand. The
crowd then, with u sledge hammer, bat
tered down the door of the cell where
Meara was confined. The poor wretch
begged Tor mercy. but nobody gave heed
to his appeals. The crowed then seized
him, pinioned his arms and carried him
into the street. Dr. Daniels then address
ed the crowd, saying that he had sworn
not to return home until the murderer
was executed, and asked the crowd if they
would stand by him. All responded in
the affirmative. Meara was then Placed
in a wagon, which was drawn by the
crowd to a tree a short distance from the
jail. A rope was placed around his neck,
the other end attached' to the limb of a
tree, and he was told he might have
twenty minutes in which to prepare fur
eternity. Ile spent the first half, of his
time in piteous uppeals for mercy. While
doing this he was derided by many of the
crowd. One man offered to pray with
him, but he replied that he could not pray
without a priest. Ile then called upon
the Masons present for help, but no one
responded, and he cursed thellasons. lie
then called upon the Catholics to rescue
him.
One of them shouted : "Call upon God
for He alone can save You." '
He prayed for the remaining moments,
and at the expiration of the twenty min
utes the wagon was pulled from under
him and ho was left hanging. At first not
a muscle moved, but in a few seconds, his
struggles became fearful. The crowd
then disappeared, but before doing so sev
eral brtital fellows discharged their revol
vers into his body. He was left hanging
all night. In the morning his body was'
taken care of by his friends. About one
I hundred persons witnessed 'the hanging.
The leaders of the lynching party did.their,
work in a'quiet ana orderly manner, but
many of the crowd betrayed brutality in•
speech and gesture. No movements hiss
yet.been made, looking to the punishment
of the Iyacherg.—Peoria. Transcrpt.
The Itlebrew ]Month of Ab4Past
:Dar.
Last Thursday was the ninth day of the
Hebrew month of Ab, the anniversary of
the destruction of the temple at Julia.
lem, and is celebrated as a fast day by the
orthodox Israelites all over the world, It
was upon this day that the temple of Is,
ruelites at Jerusalem was destroyed by the
Babylonian King Nebuchadnerzar r iti the
reign of Zedekiab, king of Judah,.mben
the Hehrews were taken as captives to
Babylon and the eyes of the Hebrew king
put out. This king was the. last of the
dynasty of the house of David, twenty,
one kings of that family having reigned
until this time, the wholeperiod of their
reign being 51 , t years, After Cyrus be
came lord of Babylon he permitted the
..liebrews to return to their native land
and rebuild their temple, but after. the
space of 639 years the liomans invaded
Palestine, and again, on the ninth of Ab,
the temple was burned to the ground and
the Israelites banished from their country,
from which time they have been dispemed
' over the globe.
The taking of the city, however, put
an end to the horrible famine that eVit ,
ed among its inhabitants. The orthollos
Israelites are very scrupulous in observing
this fast day, eating nothing until sunset,
regarding the.day as a visitation of God
for the transgressions committed by their
ancestors, and recite prayers for the return
to Jerusalem. The reformers regard it
as a wise decree of Providence who de
signed Israel, as a light to the nations, as
banner-bearers of the law given on Sinai,
and therefore dispersed the nation over
the world. The ninth of Ab has furnished
a theme for the Hebrew poets in the mid,
dle ages, who, moved by -an irresistible
impulse; have given expression to their
feelings and uttered songs of woe over
the misfortunes brought upon Israel on
that day. Many of them, feeling ado-
sire to see the walls of the temple, and
there in distress, and agony, spent the re.
mainder of their days_ Ao a wonderful
coincidence, history relates that it was
upon this very day—the ninth of Ab—
that the banishment of the Israelites from
Spain took place in the reign of Ferdi,
nand and Isabella, in 1402, The sover
eign pair, after having conquered Gran&
da, thought it would be pleasing to the
Deity to drive them from Spain. Three
hundred thousand men, women and ail.
drew marched, upon the second of August
of that year, from Spain, headed by
Abarbanel, the minister of finance, who,
being au Israelite, had also to suffer the
penalty. On the nest day, - the third of
August, Columbus sailed from Lisbon,
when be discovered America, which has
since proved a new home to the Israelites.
It Might Ilavo Been.
We hear a great deal about thin phrase,
t might liave been."
Sentime,qtal.xQath,
spinsters, all join in this contemptible
whine, "It might have been;' but the
words have another meaninr , well worth
looking for, too.
Instead of mourning over the irretriew
ble past, and sighing, "it might have been
better," we should do a far more sensible
thing if we picked rip our crumbs, - and
said, "it might have been worse.
Taking time through, there isn't more
cause for sorrow than joy, all bitter com
plaining only brings us so much the more
speedily to that place which is the pintos
cence of everything dolefuL
It is not very likely that any or us will
be called to endure more than good old
Job. When earthly blessings were taken
from him, he did not raise a great hue
and cry,• but patiently said, "The Lord
gave, and the Lord bath taken away, bless
ed be the name of the Lord."
If ever we are so happy as to get to
Heaven, : then we may see that much
which we call trouble and sorrow now,
are really our greatest blessmgs; and our
llttor rm. .v.i n bt. have., be
ro
en wtwht in
soul and body if circumstances baa been
as we so often 'blindly wished they might
have been.
Then wo shall see that, of all glad words
of tongue or pen, the gladdest are these,
"It might have been.
Not the Lady.
A well known minister, walking along
the street a few days since, met a lady for
whom he had recently performed the
marriage service. Desiring to renew the
acquaintance, (for the lady had intersted
him greatly at the time,) he accosted her
with the remark:
" Madam, did I not have the pleasure
of marrying you a few days since ?"
" I was married a few days since sir."
" Yes, I thought I was not mistaken ; I
married you,
" Indeed f" Well, I thought my husband
was a much younger man than you are •
but I have not seen enough of him to
make his acquaintance thorou -hly. By
the way, my dear, my chignon is getting
shabby ; please give me some money to
buy a waterfall."
Evidently this was more than the min
ister bargained for, and with a hasty bow,
"No, you are not the lady—l'm mistak
en," he took his leave.
A Colorado saloon-keeper said of a
rough crowd : "I couldn't get their whis
ky strong enough for them, so after- try
ing every way, I at last made a. mixture
of poison oak and butternut. That fetch
ed them. I called it the sheet) herder's
delight, and it was a popular drink. The
first Pike I tried it on yelled with delight;
the next one took two drinks and turned
a double somerset in the road before. the
house. A peddler came along, and after
he took several drinks of my sheep herdtee
delight he went off and 'stole his Oiria
pack and hid it in the woods." .
Artucen• Wm:se—lt is not generally
known that Cape Colony produces the
most delicious wines grown on the face of
the earth. A cargo received as a remit
tance by our neighbors Dr. J. C. Ayer &
Co., contains several varieties raised there,
among which thoe;Constancia commands
the lughest pticd"of any wino the
world. Almost the entire crop of it hi
consumed in the palaces of Europe;-this
rare exception being sent to them In ex
change for their medicines, which have
long been the staple remedies of South
Africa. [Boston Journal.