THE MONTROSE - DEMOCRAT:
VOIUME XXX.
E. B. HAWLEY & Co., Proprietors.
Business Cards.
41. B. & .4_H. MeCO U.V,
♦rrettreeiV ke'taw Oillee over the flank, Montrose
?a. MoDtrerse, May 10, IS7I. It
n. 11". SEARLE,
"TONNE AT LAW. other over the Store of IL
Dewtourr. l !
kt.hc Beek Block. kloutro•o. Pa. (00l CS
W. W. Sin Tif,
CA BINET ICND AIR MANVPACTI:REEIL—Irew
of Main stOtet. Montrose. Ps. )sog. 1. 1869.
SUT7'ON,
Auctioneer, and Insurance Agent,
Frieradsvllle, Pa
C. GI LIIF:RT,
U. fag. 4012.40ticErlec.r.
augl o.r . Greng Bend. Pa
AM! EL T,
U. IE3. .4.m.aticoltickor.
/toe i, I[ol9. Adirese, Brooklyn, Pa
JoILV GROVES,
kSIIIONA#LR TAILOR, Montrose, Pa. Shop over
Chandler'', Store. Altordera tlrst-rate
Cum ng dor). on short notlee, and warranted to at.
J. F. sifbEMSKER,
Attorney ei Law, Montrose. Pa. °Mee next door to J
It. De it drt. Wore, oppywite the bank.
W tett Vow. JAW. IL ISM—no-3-Iy.
13.. L BALDTILN
&T Lew. bIOIIII . OIM. l's Office with Jiireoe
seq.
out rose, Acgast r, tf.
A. O. W. 4 RRE.V,
A TTORNITT A t LAW. Bounty, Rack Pay. Penaton
and Sediani OA. Claim attended to. OfPee 9r
100 T Leto* Boyd's Store. AI onL rove, Y.. [Au. 1,'69
IV. A. CRC/SSA/ON,
1. ttral.ey et Law. Office at the Cott rt Hen., In the
oat msestortre• W. A. Crtuasauxt.
!Wu trit.. Stet. 601., 15;L—If.
McKgSZIE. S CO.
~;,, !t1 Wry Goods, Clothing. Lndle• and Wean.
eve •tinee. Usu. adento IN.r the great nlnertran
Tea and colree Company [Montrose, Joly •Vt.l
•• _ _
D& Ir. Ir. SMITH.
n .„,„ ruplz. at hia dwelling, nest door ust of the
Republiralipriatlag oMee. Ofttee hewn. from N.
to 4 r. a. Montroee. May 1, IS7l—tf
qq LAW 01716'E.
rorcn l w arneys at Lace. at Ilia old office
et Brniley . ftle4 lifoticrorr. Pa.
r rtTca. Glen. It. - 11.[ r. w. wacaos.
J. SA UTTER,
T &SUM N AXIL*T.ULOE. Slop over J. B. De Vl lit's
411 EL TC1:1:1:1.1.
Dwer in nrnts, Medicines, Cll.-mire!, ralnis, Oh Is,
Nplcen, rnney o.oll...Jewelry: Ver
loom. tee, Wick Montr.be, I's E•iatati.h , d
1.11 tree 1, Idn
Dn. W L. RICILIEDSoN
TOT VOCIAN & 'WEUEON. tenders hi. proferOcnn
goo to the cal Lt . l.• *.' , .• , ru. and vicinity
(Ogees, ,. hisrsvicluncc, •n the corn., rno sayre
Fon advr. (Aug.
( - a:Antics TODDA I:D.
n Zoete rd Xhosa. Ileln and Cape. loather .en
tlaia ',tree% et dolor I.loe , Store
W•rt made Ln °rear. and repeirang dune oleat,y.
entre.e. Jan. 1. 1110.
LE WIN KNOLL. •
%IRVING AND GAIT: DRESSING.
Sh•p Is toe u. ,, r Postunlc• building. when b• rill
sc fnueld to ►head ail vriau may vont ►nrthin=
his line. Montru•e Pa. Oct. 13. 1.543.
,S fr PAYTON,
rnrau•t.+v s SrPOICON, tenter , his .ere+er6
tt,eeitiss.."( ttrnd and v,rin try (Mire at Ills
r..ddene..oppoo — c "Mud ~ilage
Sort ist,l6.9.—if
D A ~TARO/'.
•l ni.isters TanavaL Befll4. at 11. Pool •f
haVeo: atrect Call and consalf In all Chronic
IP'
lliaatrasa. Jan. 11 . , 'll.-13,4—tf.
CifCifARf.RF .VORRIS,
THE lIITTI WARNER. has moved his shop to the
Iptilldfng occnpled by;/. Q. tteMl7t. where F. Is pro•
parel t ih.e.l hinds or wart In Wens... ouch .. ma.
king .Irltchto. pers. etc All work dono on short
starts and prices loss. Pletee tail sod eel tem.
IL 11172RITT.
!War .• Staple and Panay Dry Gouda. enrkery, Hard
• Iroa. More.. Drugs. 0.11, and P•i.ta. Gouts
••1 lists and Vap, Fora. La7ab Robes. ro
rent. Provisions.
Near. 11 iliurd.lo., NOV.
EXCHANG E 110 TEL.
Nir , tArKEN. trlehes to Inform thettuhlle that
relsted'iba Erchtture lintel In liontruge. he
Ito pr.dared to sccetua 'lite the trarcllng pub;:r
erst,loo.ttyle
Moutrotte, Au= 21, 1872.
BIT L rvG s STROUD.
FIRE AND I.IFB I::SId.ANCR ACSN'T. AI!
bovinesestiendetilopromptly.no DOT term. ofpee
Arc door rvvvi of the bank n. Wm. H. emlP ,
hi I venne, Mai:an:roc, Pa. (Auk I. MO.
tly 1371 ) Btkursos
J. D. VAIL
!lON torirvi:c PUTS!, ix AND SintGlSX`i. HIP permat.ntly
WAlrd hlinoelf in Motor... Pa where he trill prom..
at 10 tall. in his protenelon mitt, wt.l4 too war
office and roeidence west of the etaart
llonse, near Fitch & Wat•on'e rase.
Moutr... February 11.1R71.
F. CH URCHI L L
lastlre nf the Peace: strike or, L. S. Lonhadm's ptnre,
t.seat Rend borough, Stotquettanna Connie. Peon',
llas the pet lenient of the docket. of the late lease
Iterlhow. deresmed. Oftlee hours , from Is to It o'clock
m and trout lln 4 o'clock p. W. •
Great Send. Oct. td.
tilt_Vti d• NICHOLS,
r“,t,. rate In Drugs, Medicines, Chemicals. Dye.
s- oti.. Varni.h. Fa.'"
vt r les. estera gedicloe•. Psrfurrleryand Ullet Ar-
L , r , •• rlr — Preseription• earotally compounded.—
Drlrk block, Moatr.e,Pa.
d. p Rum.
Fib 71,111
.agr 4L 41NDS OP
JOB PIINTING, ETC.,
irtzeifirsD £T nib
DEMO'CIIAT OFFICE,
Warr Sea 'ior Pus Lie Arsrtra.
Zhe Negro 6anur.
—o—
The sun sinks in the west !
The stars ure shinirig now, to sing amain ;
The moon, that hides beneath a Needy vest—
' But all to rise again.
The dowers in autumn dio
The vemant leaves wither, and dnrx)p and fall ;
What is most bright this morn, to night may lie
Beneath Death's sombre pall.
But aprlng will bring again
The flowers to hfc from out their winter bed,
And o'er earth anow-clad,cireary,trackleas plain
Fresh beauty will be shed.
Ton stalwart, sinewy form
Now pulsing proud with manhood's noble trust,
Ziow thrilled with bonne* smile, so rich and
Must low lie in the dust.
Ton beauty, proudly rare,
With cheeks like heart of young roan in the
sprang.
Whose brow Is like the Idly-petal fair.
Whose sweet lips gladly sing,
The heart's MD songs of joy—
As do the birds amid their native treft—
May in another world her voice employ,
Ere comes the spring tide brzak.
Yon little cherub gay
With waxen arm that wields a monarchs
strength,
Must have the deed leavvi o'er its tomb to play
Must sink to sleep at length.
Yon eye of sapphire blue,
With smile in which a myriad stars are set,
With look of lore-light, tender, pure, and true
3lust told in darkness yet.
Yes, all must sink to sleep,
Must sink to sleep in Death's remorseless gloom
The hearts that joy, the eyes which, aching,
weep,
All, all !Imp in the tomb.
But spring's warm breath will call
Dull Nature from it, long night of repose;
Thu kr-hound rivulets will full
In showers upon the rose.
The naked, shivering trees
Will smile Again in sunstuer's robe of green,
And fling their hr , tivltes to the laughing breeze
Bright in their dewy sheen
And though I lay Ina down,
And sleep niv sleep beneath the mwourous main
And mermaids weave for me a coral crown,
1 yet shall rise ❑gain.
Wherever I may make
My final bed upon this earthly mould,
There comes a time when 1 from sleep shall
wake,
When Death shall loose its bold.
Why should we quake with fear.
And t rctubline cling to thi. poor, stttrering clay
N•hen I in•• • . huly down to runt us here,
Itc•rcals etertud day?
nesurgain, spirit frail,
SA) , to thy heart when shrinks it sore with pain
‘V.ben close the eyes upon tile's changing rale.
"Tts but to lire aitain
Zhe ftorg
TWO LIVES IN ONE
-0-
More than fifty rears ago me brother
Stephen and I lived tog-titer m a village
about ter. milos sou: ii of London, where
he was in prac!iee as a surgeon. Ste
phen was thirty-two, I sogh teen. We hid
no relations but a stater, use or six years
older than mye,ir, and %ell married to
London. stephen was a solitary and
studious man, living somewhat apart
from his neighbors, and standing almost
in a fatherly position towards me.—
Through the year we had lived together,
no one had thimght of his tnarrying.—
Thus it was when the events I have sto
tell began. The }loose next'to ours was
taken by a Mr. Cameron, a feeble looking
man, rather past middle age. with one
daughter, Marion by name. How shall I
descrihe her, the most beautiful creature
I ever saw? She was, perhaps, twenty
years old; I never knew, precisely. A
tall, slight form, fair complexion, dark
chestnut eyes and hair, and an expression
more like that of an angel than a human
being. Though I was much.struck with
her appearance, Stephen did not seem to
notice it, and we might have retna:ned
unacquainted with them forever but that
he was required to heip Mr. Cameron
over an awkward stile opposite our houxe.
Acquaintance on :e that' soon
grew familiar; fur they had two feelings
in common—a love of tobacco and Swe
denborganisin. Muir a summer even
*: did they pass smoking the one and
talkino the other. Marion snrtietim is
joining in. for she generally walked with
them, while my chest, which was weak
at the times. kept me at home, One day
they quitted Stephen at the gate, and as
he entered the door I said to him:
"How lovely Marion is! I am .uever
tired of I yiking ut her."
"Look at her while you may," said he
"she has not, three years to live."
It was only too true. She bed some
dreadful complaint—anenriem,l think it
was—which' must carry her off in the
flower of her days. Stephen told me
that he had consulted the most eminent
doctors without getting any hope ;
and the emotion, rare enough in
him, that he displayed, told me that he
loved Marion.
Amos Fscuo.
I said no word to him about, it; I knew
better; hut I saw with what dreadful
doubts ho was perplexed. 'Excitement
might shorter! Marion's life--such an es •
citement as a declaration of 14) . 0 from
him might be of material injury ; and
even if it did not prove so, how could he
condemn himself to the prolonged tor•
tura of seeing the life of a beloved wife
ebb away day by day ? Besides she did
not thlnk lie cared for her. I, who had
watched ber earlessly, knew that she lov
ed him with her whole heart. He strug
gled with himself fiercely, but he won
the fight.. He left_,,home for some weeks,
and returned looking older and paler;
but he had learned to mention her name
without his voice quivering, and to touch
her hand without holding his breath
hard. She was pining away under the
influence of his changed manner, and
I dared not help my two darling, to be
happy. An unexpected aid soon'oitirre,--,
Mr. Cameron, who was in bad 'health
when we first saw him, died suddenly.—
Poor Marion's grief was terrible to see.—
Her Father was dead, Stephen, as she
thought.
,gstoriged ; and them was no
one else in the intrld-who eared whether
lIESIURGAIII.
"TRUTH AND RIGHT : GOD AND OUR COUNTRY."
MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 23, 1873.
she lived or died, except myself. through t
her home with me, and was with her
hourly till Mr. Cameron's funeral. low
we got through that time I hardly know.
Then came the necessary inquiry into
his affairs. lie had died, not altogether
poor, but in reduced circumstances, leav
ing Marion an annuity that would scarce
ly give her the luxuries her eats. of
,health required. And where was she to
live, and what to do? Stephen was the
sole executor, the one adviser to whom
she could look. Ile took two days and
nights to consider, and then offered her
his hand and home. At first she could
not believe that his offer arose from any
thing but pity and compassion ; but
when he had told her the story of the
last, few monthe, and called me to bear
witness to it, a great light seemed to come
into her eyes, and a woneerful glow of
love, such as I had never seen, over her
face. I left thorn to themselves that even
ing, till Stephen lapped at the door of
my room, and told me all—nothing, in
fact, but what I knew long before. Is
their case there was little cause for. de
lay. Trousseaux were not the important
matters in my day that they are in my
grandchildren's; and Marie was married
to Stephen, in her black gown, within a
month of her father's funeral.
The neat few months was a happy
time for all of us. Marion's health im
proved greatly. The worried, frightened
look she need to wear left her face us she
recovered from the depression caused by
constant anxiety about her father, and
the logs of rest she suffered in attending
upon him at night. It seemed as if she
were entirely recovering, and Stephen, if
he did not lose his fears, at least was nut
constantly occupied with them. How
happily we used to look forward to the
future, for Stephen was beginning to
save moviey; and how many were our day
dreams about professional eminence for
and fashionable lite in London,
partly for Marion, but mostly f o r Tue.—
!' have tried fashionable life in London
s'nce, bat I never found it as happy
as our days in that dear old Surrey vil
lage.
Well, our happy times did not last long.
Marion caught a cold as the winter Caine
on, and was soon so ill as to be taken to
Lond.in for advice. Stephen same back
nlane, with a weary, deathly-looking tic,'.
Marion had broken a bliaal-vessel on the
journey —not anythinf serious in atsalf
tint ominous enough. They were to go at
once to a warm climate—not a day to In.
hest. Sorrowfully I packed up the neces
sary things, and went with Stephen to
Lltidwi the twat day to say g toil by to
Marion, who had been forbidden to go
home. The same afternoon they were mi
board a vessel bound fur Leghorn. laicki
ly, Marion was a good sailor, and well
used to ships, for she had made more than
045 TOyag , to MaLlCira with her father.
Machias I witbo,f to 'ais with theist, and
mach ;.5 washed ii, too, it ass out 0!
OP' qaestion. Stephen bad saved but
little money, and could hardly see how
h e a nd M areal were to lire. unless he
could make himself a practice somewhere
among the Est lith abroad, and Lis taking
me also was nut to be thunglit of. I wai
to live for the present with my married
sister. It was very sire to part with
Stephen, with whom I had lived all my
ltre ; it was almost surer to part with
M a rion, who had been more than a sister
to me ever since I saw her. Stephen
and I were nearly overcome with emotion ;
but she was calm and silent, with an
intent, wistful look about her lovely tau,
that has haunted me all over my hfe
since. I can see it now, when I shut my
eyes, though it was fifty years ago. Need
I say that I never saw titer again ?
I went to ni sister's house and begun
the fashionable life I used to wish for. It
W 39 not all that I pictured it, though it
was pleasant enough to occupy me in the
day time; but at night I lunged sadly for
my darlings.
Stephen wrote letters full of hope, and
talked of returning after wending two
years in Italy. Marion. too, wrote favor
ably of herself, and my anxiety begun to
lessen. There was another reason for
thin at the same time; my late husband,
the friend and partner of my sister's hus
band, was at the Bailie time beginning to
pay his addresses to me ; and the tender
troubles of my own case made me care
less of others. Summer came around
again, and one day as I was half wishing
fur my country home a letter arrived from
Stephen. Marion's complaint was at a
crisis, and a great change would take
place, one way or the other, 111 u few days,
I was to go home, put the place in order,
and he ready to receive them. I did not
know till afterward that Marion had
begged to be allowed to die at home, if
the change were for the worse; if it had
been for the better there would have been
no reason for her staying abroad.
Well,l went home, arranged everything,
and waited for them. Three weeks pass
ed (the usual intervals,) and no letter; a
month, and I supposed they were travel
ing slowly to avoid fatigue. On the day
five weeks after I had received the last
letter I was sitting alone, rather late in
the evening, when a quick step Boarded
in the road outside, and Stephen came to
the gate, opened it, entered the house,
and sat down in silence. lie was dressed
as usual, and looked tired and travel
stained; hut there was no sorrow in his
law, and I felt sure that Marion must he
safe. 1 asked him where she was. Ile
said she was not with him.
"(lave you left her is Italy ?" I asked.
"She is dead," he answered, without a
shadow of emotion.
. .
"flow ? where ?" I was beginning to
question bioarbut he stopped me.
"Give-meitunething to eat and drink."
he said. "I have walked from London
ead I want to sleep."
"I brought him what ho wanted. Ho
bade me good night, and, as I saw ho
wished it, I left him and adilt to bed
full of grief, but even more of, wonder,
that he, who truly loved his wife; if ever
a man did, could speak of her not a month
after death without his voice faltering or
his Ewe changing In the least, "To-mor
row will solve the question," I said to
myself, as weary with crying, I felt sleep
coming over me. But to-morrow 4i4 not
solve the question. He told me, as be-
fore without emutiod, what he wished
me to-know, sad from tbst momeat he
spoke no more on the subject. In every
respect hut this, he was my own Stephen
of old—as kind and thoughtful as ever,
only altered by a rather absent and eh
, stracted manner. I thought at first that
he was stunned by his loss, and would
realize it more painfully afterward; but
months passed on without a change.—
I Ile used Marion's chair, or things of her
work, or sat opposite OS her drawings,
i not seeming to notice them; indeed, it
I was as if she had dropped out of his life
I entirely. and left him as he was
before ho knew her. The only
difference was that he, naturally a man
lof sedentary habits, took a great deal of
exercise, and I knew that he kept laud
anum in his bedroom.
At this time my lover was pressing
me to marry him, and with much diffi
culty I consented to tell Stephen about
it, thoush I had no inteutio.a of leaving
him. 'lo my surprise he seemed pleased.
I told him that 1 would never leave him
alone for all the huebaud4 iu the world;
but he would not hear me.
"I think it is your duty to marry him,
Margaret," he said. "You hive him, and
have taught him to love yon, and you
have no right to sacrifice him to me."
"My first day is toyou,Stephen. I will
not leave von alone."
"I see that I must explain to von," he
said, after a pause. "‘N hen you leave me
I shall not be alone."
"Who will la: with yon ?" I asked,won
deriug.
••Marion."
I siarted as if I had been shot, for I
thought he must surely he mad; but he
continued quite calmly, and as usual,
without emothm:
"She died at mid-day. Till night I
did not know what I did. I felt stun
ned and broken and dying myself; but
at last, worn out as I was with watching
and siting up, I fell asleep; and by God's
mercy she calms to me in my dreams, and
told me to be comforted. The next night
she came again, and from that time to
this has never failed me. Then I felt that
it was my duty to live; that if my lite
was %aluless to myself, it was not to you;
so I came. I dare nay it is only a freak
or my imagination. Perhaps I even prx
dneed an illusion by an effort of my will;
hut however that is. it has saved me from
going mad ur killing myself. Haw does
die (wine Alw.iys an she was in that
tirst summer that we spent here, or in
our early time ir' Italy ; alwats cheerful
and beautiful, al wii‘n alone, always dress
ed an sli? used to Brest, talking as she
used to talk--nit an angel but her
self.
"Sorra -times we go through a whole day
of pleasure,, sometimes sire only conies.
and goes. Out no night 113; ever yet been
without her; and, indeed, I think that
visits are longer and nearer as I draw
near, rto her cid gigein i som e tim es
ask which of toy two lives is the real one.
ask myself now, and cannot answer.-
1 should: think the other was, it it were
not that while I am in this I recollect
the other. and while I am in the other' I
know nothing, beyond. Anil tins is why
my sorntw is not ate that of oth•
ers in my position. I know that no night
pass without my seeinr , " her, for my
health is good andl never fail to
sleep. Sleeplessness is the only earthly
evil I dread, now you are provided. It is
too Caerel a thing to be spken of with
out necessity. Saw write to your husband
that is to be, and tell him to comehere."
I dal so, and the preparations fur my
marriage began. Stephen was very kind,
but his thoughts a-antlered further day by
day. I spoke to a doctor, a friend of his,
about hint, but it seemed that, nothing
really ailed him. I longed almost to pain.
to ask him more about Mariou ; but he
never gave me an opportunity. If I ap
proached the subject, he turned the talk
in another direction, and my old habits of
stibmission to him prevented me from go
ing on. Then came my wedding day,
Stephen gave mt away and sat by my side
at breakfast. Ile seemed to hang over me
more tenderly than ever, as he put me in
to the carriage and took leave of me.
The last thing I did as I leaned out of
the carriage window was to tell him to be
my first visitor in my own home.
"No, Margaret," he said, with a sad
Emile, "say good-bye to me note, my work
is done."
Scarcely understanding what he said, I
bid him good-bye; and it was not till my
husband asked me what he meant that
remembered his strange look and accent.
I then felt half frightened about him ;
but the novelty of my first visit abroad
made me soon forget my fears.
The rest is soon told. The first letter
I received from England said that on the
very morning of my marriage he had been
found cold and dead in his bed. Lie had
died without pain, tbe doctor said, with
his right hand clasping his left above the
wrist, and holding firmly, even in death,
a circlet of Marion's hair.
The Weather In Minnesota.
—o—
Tne Minnesota papers are endeavoring
to correct the impressions which have
gone abroad of the extreme severity of
the past winter in that State. They claim
that but fifty lives were lost out of
the many thousands exposed to the great
January snow storm, and that these were
frozen by long exposnre,growing out of the
fact that they had missed their way in the
newly and spaisely settled prune regions
of the frontier, where there are no fences
to guide the traveler and houses dot the
coulAry at very distant intervals. The
statement of the MinUesota papers is
worthy of consideration by those intend.
ing emigration, especially ns the agents
of land-grant railroad companies are
making use of sensational stories con.
eerning the Minnesota climate to divert
emigration to Arkansas, Kansas and oth
er regions.
Sous Detroit bterglara entered a Jew
elry store reoently, and "stole a bushel
of gold and diamonds," wording to the
Union, but as the looser& estimated their
loss at COO, it is thought diamonds are
cheaper in detroit then in other cities,
Tun season for keeping diaries begins
with the first of the year and lasts op to
'about the first week in February,
Linn Posen!.
—o—
REAL LITE.
——o—
The St. Louis Republican publishes the
following. A pour gir!, now about nine
teen years of age, was born in Rome, and
received the above name. Her father was
probably an organist of the wandering
jew close, and her mother may have been
a fish woman. There is no doubt her
parents were poor, and they may have
been honest. Line very early conceived
a distaste for life in Rome, and started
out to make her fortune. She was pret
ty,—ltaly's sun burned in ber veins, and
Italy's skies shone in her eyes. She got
away from home at fourteen, and threw
herself upon the wide world with that
dangerous companion, a beautiful face.—
She drifted to New York and soon be
came noted as a "pretty flower girl." She
did not stand on the corner with her
blooming basket, but carried it around in
fashionable avenues, and to the brown
stone mansions seated thereon. Her fresh
stock of flowers every morning, and her
bright eyes and the roses on her cheek,
and the perfect picture of beauty she
made, harmonized with the aristocratic
locality she loved to frequent. She al
ways sold out and then glided away into
the solitude of fhe great city, no one
knew whither. Iler swift foot defied fol
lowers.
She became a curiosity—and then a
sensation. David Simmons, an old, rich,
retired merchant, saw her and became
one of her daily patrons. He was often
seen talking to her on his marble steps,
and afterwards with a posy in MS button
hole. Then Mr. Simmons tried to and
out where the beautiful vision vanished
when the basket was empty, and because
he could not became greatly distressed.—
Mr. Simmons was a widower, but he had
a daughter who was married, and she and
her husband lived with the old man in
the house. The daughter saw the beau
tiful Italian girl, and did not like her.—
She objected to her father making an old
dunce of himself, and the quantity of
flowers which old Mr. Simmons bought
every day was something astonishing.
The more his daughter scolded, the
more he tilled'his room with flowers, and
the more he displayed. the choicest and
rarest of them in his various buttonholes.
lie was a walking conservatory and hot
house, though he could not be called a
green house. His white hairs, too nearly
resembled dead leaves. his daughter and
her husband made an effort to get his
property taken out of his hands, but fail
ed to establish a case of insanity. This
angered him, and when it was over, lie
ordered his covetous children to leave
his house entirely,and they went sorrowing
away. The old man then turned all the
property he paosseesed into money and
disappeared from New York. The beau
tifnl girl ilmumparegi at. theme
time. She had made her fortune. lit he
old man and his Italian charmer went by
sea to Savannah, Georgia, where they
were duly and properly married.
David Simmons on the same day exe
cuted an instrument whereby all his mon
ey and bonds were left to his wife. in a
few days he met. with an accident which
injured his spinal cord, and he laid down
and died. Nothing was heard in New
York of the fate of Simmons for six
months, and, in the meantime the girl
had left the country, and was wifely back
is her own sunny land. The only thing
left to tell of David Simmons was an emp
ty trunk. which was found in a New Or
leans hotel.
bins Posselli had been heard from. She
had been seen in Home, by one who, like
old Simmons, had been infatuated with
the bare legged flower girl of New York.
It was at the carnival last spring. During
the last days of this fantastic saturnalia,
he saw a gorgeously apparelled woman in
an elegant open carriage, who attracted
universal attention, and commanded the
plaudits of the throng that beset her car
riage.
It was Lina Posen Her form was
nearly lost amid the banks of roses and
exquisite flowers that surrounded her Her
lace was wreathed in smiles as she pelted
with sugar plums the occupants of the
carriage next in front or next behind her
iu the procession. Her eyes danced and
laughed and sparkled like light in water.
Her whole being was in a condition of
bewitching madness and tumultous mer
riment—the very intoxication of ecstatic
enjoyment. She had made her fortune.
The fairy dream of her childhood was
realized. She is nineteen, and rich and
beautiful, and a native of Italy. A for
tune for a prince—perhaps a future
queen of the opera. What connection
has Lima Poselli hencefo:th with the
pretty flower girl of New York, or the old
empty trunk in New Orleans ?
A New Idea.
—o—
A NE, ordeal of the ball room is pre
scribed by society in Montalluyah, where
the choice of partners is made to depend
on the superior beauty of the fobt, as de
cided by an arbiter, chosen by the com
pany, and, of course, famous for his
taste and knowledge of the beautiful.
While the arbiter pursues his duties ,the
ladies are concealed behind a screen,
which is, however, open sufficiehtly at the
bottom to disclose the foot. She to whom
the palm is awarded has the first choice
of a partner and the others follow in
succession in the order in whioh thq
have been ranked. This diversion, though
exciting great interest, is not so happy
as the choice by hand. The ladies whose
feet are placed in the lower rank often
think themselves aggrleveitand are slight
ly jealous of their rivals; for in spite
of the efficacy of the laws, it is altogether
impossible not to feel compassion for the
ladies who see the plan given to others
by ono recognized as an honest and able
judge, a man who. taste is known to be
irreproachable. When the hand and foot
of a yonne lay are inclined to coarseness
while at the same time her talents and
goodness entitle her to a superior posi
tion, the fingers or toes, and afterwards
the hand WI foot themselves, are bound
np fora ceiain number of boars each
day.
A Bar FaAsoisco ittry , coined the
phrase "delneional insanity: .
Terms{ .rurvairr. IMAM. CAL
The Now Bonnet.
—o—
A foolish IlUle maiden bought a Toolish littlo
bonnet,
With a ribbon, and a feather, and a bit of Lace
upon it,
And that the other maideas of the village might
all know it,
Eihe thought she'd go to meeting the nest Sun.
day just to show
But though the little bonnet was scarce larger
than a dime.
The getting of it settled proved to boa work of
time;
8o when 'urea fairly tied, all the bashed atopp
their ringing.
And when she came to meeting, sons enough
the folks were singing.
So this foolish little maiden stood and waited et
the door,
And she • shook her ruffles out behind, and
smoothed them down betore.
"Uallelniab r tang the choir above
her head—
" Hardly knew you I hardly know you r were
the words she thought they satoi.
This made Out little maiden feel so fey, very
cross,
That she gave her little mouth a twist, her little
head a toss,
For she thought the very hymn they rang was
all about her bonnet.
With the ribbon, and the feather, and the bit of
lace titan IL
And she would not unit to listen to the Lerman
or the prayer,
But pattered dOwn the silent street, and hurried
up the stair,
Till she reached her little bureau, and In a
bandbox on it
Ilad hidden safe from critic's eTe her foolish lit
tle bonnet
Which proves my little maidens, that each of
you will [lnd,
IA every tiablutth service but en echo of your
mind :
And that the little head that's Oiled with silly
little airs,
Will never get a blessing from sermons or from
prayers. -
.
41110
A New Way toVanoke.
—a—.
Colonel Ira Tripp is n large land and
coal owner at Scranton, Pa. At present
he is stopping at the Merchants' hotel in
this city. Ten years ago he was, next to
Grant, the mu- t inveterate emokist in the
known world. His daily average wag bat
little less than fifty cigars Any constitu
tion save that of the United States must
have succumbed to such persistent and
oft repeated att telt! upon it; and nt the
same time Colonel Tripp s began to maul.
fest a slight flavor of decay. His physi
clans called halt, as the coal trade was
threatened with the loss of an upright
member. Colonel Tripp did' halt. With
the memory of his first half Spanish? the
glory of later cheroots, and the intoxicat
ing bliss of his last royal Havana cluster
ing around him, he consented to go into
a sort of involuntary exile from what was
a little dearer than either horse or dog.
He did this more than reluctantly. - In
deed, he tried all kinds of methods to
hold on to n the pleasure and avoid the pain,
but. bIS yslelann vit./uld admit of no
compromise. To chew was as bad as to
smoke, to snuff worse than either. Bnt
the Colonel was not to be beaten. He.
has one of the most beautiful and ca
pacious Roman noses to be seen to-day
upon Broadway or Chatham street. Tbes
nose looks dowinipon the lung, full, gray,
flowing, flocks beard as the peak of
Tenerile looks down upon tl..ts sea. He
haunted the places where the best cigars
were smoked, and sniffed their perfumes
as angels do the roses of Paradise—at first
at a distance, and then drawing nearer
as the delicate sense required more. He
would place himself in front of sortie one
aoout his size, and beg the smoker to
exhale his smoke full iu the colonels face.
His Roman nose did its full duty, but too
often the smoke was cold and robbed of
half its strength before it reached him.
His friends saw his trouble and sym
pathized with him. By a secret conven
tion they all rgreed that whoever had
most leisure at any time would direct
his superfluous smoke straight to the
Roman nose ; and this is the only way in
which the Colonel has smoked since
1863. He was riding on the froqplat
form of a Broadway car yesterday af
ternoon in company with a friend known
as Double Decker. Mr. Decker wastlow
iug the smoke of his ciger lost where, it.
would do the most good. the ladies in
the car became indignant at what appear
ed so indecorous a proceeding, and one
motherly old body came forward and
pulling the younger man dy the coat told
him he should be ashamed of himself for
thus insulting an old gentleman. Decker
laughed and thee* his cigar away. He
and the Colenel entered the ear and agreed
in explaining tlurperformance to alloccu
, %apts.—A: r. Sun.
SINGULAR SOIINADULINTIC FEAT.--The
Troy Times reports a curious caso of som
nambulism which occurred in that city
a few nights since. A young lady, _from
a neighboring State., who is visiting
friends in that city attended a private
social gathering on the evening in ques
tion, and being an excellent vocalist she
was frequently called upon to sing for
the company. So incessant were the de
mands of her auditors, that in the effort
to gratify them, she became quite ex
hausted. The company broke up about
1 o'clock, and at 2 o'clock the young
lady retired. In about an hour the most
delicious strains of music were heard
proceeding from her room. They con
tinued so long that one of the members
of the family arose and upon entering
the apartment of the young lady, found
her asleep and singing with all her power.
She tried to awake her, but the effort was
nuvailitig. She continued to sing, going
from one song to another, for upwarild of
an hour, when nature seemed to be . ex
hausted, and the fair and musical somna
mbulist sank into a real sleep. Upon
awaking the next morning she know
I nothing of the occurrences, and could
scarcely believe that. she had been the
unwitting source of so much enjoyment
and surprleo to those who heard her.
A NUMBER of San Francisco specula.
tors have bought the islands of Sam,
Upolo, Ravi!, and Tutulia in the Pacific.
Ocean. These islands arc very productive
in sugar, coffee, tobacco, indigo arrow.
root and othei tropical riches, incinding
a good quality of cotton. A petition has
been gotten rip &thing for the annexation
of the islande to the trnited Stater.
NITMBER )7,,
Vartellvi
——o—
ILurroxsreleots compulsory education;
GBAlrefl incessant 'cigar smoking will
enable him to "atnmp" the wbolacountry.
WHEx re a ship like o book r Merl ft
is outward bound, of course. • • ;:r
Viikcw did Ruth treat Boaz roughly ?
When slut pulled his earl and trlicr upoii
his corn. ' •
"Do you like codfish balls, Mr.' Wig
ging r Mfr. Wiggit!g, hesitatingly,“lepd
ly don't know, nom; I dott't recollect,
having attended one."
REPENTANONAII Old age le frlng to
God the orange of life after the devil has
squeezed it and taken its deliciolnljuique.
CALLENI .
rwrsierctr. stopped at tha shop
of a country aposhecary arid Inquired for
a pharmacopoeia. "Sir," slid the spothe.
airy, "I know of no such farmer Heinz
about these parts
EprrePn on a deceased IcicomotIO:
Coltish:ins fosr orDre aba
All prattling lola oats
Loog dna she rattail, at last ea Iturtak
Arld rsonstord the egg:rusks* train.
. A TIN wedding was lately obserted'af.
ter a rather unusual manner. The wily
eloped with a young fellow, taking with
her all the "tin" she had saved to ten
years. The discovery of her absence &or%
ed the festivities.
Two New England women are making
money as inventors, with delightful' ta•
pidity. One invented a machine for
making paper bags with a satchel boll
tom has refused $50,000 for iberpatentr—
The other has n pater.t for a, 'aelf-triOen
ing button, which needs no tntton bola
"Taaries our grandmotherf rap sea
temponry, "a striking instance Whf,vor
men should vote. 'She's paid (saes on I
dog for the last ten years, and %rum de.
clarea she won't stud it any. longer—+
she'll either rote or ki.l the doggy'.,:
A Guava-6pm: in o. cemeterp near
Springfield, bears the renewing esti& :1
They aunt into the wmid t) lee •
A sample of our mimeo
They turned their little beide adds'
Disgusted at the eight sad died.
A CELEBRATED actress, whose fresh
smile and silvery voice favored. the ditce___
tion, always called herself "sweet sixteoW."
She stated her age at sixteen in court si
a witness. Her son was directly after:
ward called up, and asked howold:be "IA
"Six months older than mother,".wasthi
hone.st reply.
A onze;i county lad came rushing into
the house of a neighbor and aid
"Mammy sent me to berry a head of cab-.
bage, and a little piece of triettk•to boil
with it; wants t 6 hoiroW a rag to patch
the seat of Bill's breeches; we - are pith'
to have a mighty cuttin' and slashin' too
vat butusu to-day; gout' to snake 4 1ill
new coat onen dad'e old un, and ad s
new an mien the old blanket"
MassscuusErra Millerites haviag.ap•
pointed the end of the world for Ant
Saturday, Gilmore is provoked that he:
was not informed of it in time to get np'
one more jubilee and engage the Angel
Gabriel to perferm his horn solo before •
Boston Audianee,
WATEIt core for rate is recommended'
by a Vermont farmer who reeentlicanght.
forty-two of them in of e night by exchanr,
tug a barrel of oats which they were Ile.,
costomed to visit, for a barrel partly fill- .
ed with water covered with chaff: • The
victims unconsciously plunged in,. and
were so utterly overcome by astonishment
as to be rendered incapable of makirigart
effort to rave themselves from 'a water=
grave.
A vorav lady teacher in a Sunday
School caught a boy smiling last Sunday.
Said she: "What aro you atoning at,'
Johnny ?" "Nothing, mom," was the an
sWer. "1 know better," said the teacher
severely. "Now tell me what .it was P — l,
Johnny looked frightened as he stuteriup i
ly said, "I • I s-see your n-newspaper
s-sticking out, mum." The tend:let pal
down suddenly and arranged things.
THE last matrimonial freak was at
Springfield, Mass. A leader in the ton ,
of that tonuish city took a fancy to be
married in the same building in which
her mother's bridal occurred—the old,
Unita:ian Church. Bnt the church heti
been concerted into a furniture-mentifac-'
tory, and so it became necessary to ar,
range the sofas and chairs, and the wed,,
ding was held iu the urniture ware
room.
TLIEBE was an oceurenee recently iat
the Russian town of Alerandroff that
has decidedly an American tinyor„, One
Iranboff had fallen paasionately in lore
with a young lady named Zonhoff, but
his paqou was not reciprocated. One
evening he attended. a ball, where she
was also pres t .iit, and as her partner was
leading her, past hint to take their plate
in a quadrille, he fired his revolver at her
and instantly shot himself. The Owns
lady was nut so seriously wounded: but.
that she ran into another.rooto, when he,
arising Irvin the floor with great difficulty *
followed her and shot tier through' this
heart.
Tun Russian journals give glowing ,
accounts of the fa-ewall benefit of Miss
Niluon at St. Petersbnrg on the Evlth-15:
di, Russian time--of Febeery. She -
appeared as lifargherita in ''Fatist"s list
of the splendid - gifts presented to MINI
Nilsson may be of interest. These gifts
were a paw of earrings, emeralds surround:
ed with diamonds, valued at 12,000francal
a crown of laurel leaves, in pure golds
valued at 16,090 franos;a nutriber of
bouquets, among them one with a gold
ribbon on which were engraved tho words
"Return soon," and another one with s
silver ribbon on which the words "Rem:
ember" was enamelled la bins; and
I lastly, during the last inter-act a garland
of dowers was dlivered to her on the
stage, attached to which was an aadiesit
signed-by more than a thousand persons
of the highest classes. of society. Thin
adroit was in a frame of gold with: dia,:
mond% Ahree of which hang the
shape 'of eardrops front the
.. words
"Adieu" Written*
phiret W:l3