HENRY A. PARSONS, Jr., Editor and Publisher. ELK COUNTY THE REPUBLICAN PARTY. VOL. I. RIDGrWAY, PA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 1871. NO. 30. THE HUSBANDMAN. BT FRANCES I. SWEET. Within the spongy fallow ground I sow the yellow com. And many it hill the seed hnth found, Ere Bounds the dinner-horn. Out In the meadow's dewy snlm I swing the ringing scythe ; The corn-crake knows fiill well the steel That spares her brood nllve. The pn6fivo steers ngnlnst the yokes Bend their stout necks In twain ; And clumsy wheels, with muddy spokes, Bear up the laden wain. Swung by my hands, the heavy Bail Fulls on the unshocked grain ; And through the barn the gentle gale Bears oil, the chair like ruin. Askant they gaze, the brindle cows, And chew their cuds in peace ; The hands that guide the stubborn plows The fragrant streams release. The setting sun the hill-top lights, But shadows till the plain ; And homeward come the birds in flights And fowls, their roosts to gain. She spreads the evening board with white, jiy quiei wuo ior me ; And sets the children all In sight, Their father's face to see. The night comes on, nnd darkness hides Tho children's faces small ; To me they ore my earthly guides, To them I'm all In nil. The house is still the crickets chirp, And frogs sing in the reeds ; But underneath the trees, so dark, I've sown immortal seeds. THE LOST COLOR. The Banefield estate lieB to the left of the old London coach road, a mile and a half out of Shirlington. Some few years ago public attention was directed to this property as being the subject of an in terminable lawsuit between the mort gagees, the creditors of the bankrupt proprietor, and certain next of kin, who disputed the validity of an old deed cut ting off the entail. Day by day the na pers contained some desultory paragraph neaaea jnesturn ana Utbers vs. Dever ill, ex parte Mateham and Toller," when all at once the Banefield estate started into fresh notoriety as the scene of a ter rible tragedy. The fiicts, it may be remembered, were briefly these : William Pross (I purpose ly alter the names) was charged with the inuraer ot Uuy Mesturn, the principal mortgagee of the estate. The body had been found stricken down among the reeds and grasses of the great Banefield lake : by its side a knife, identified as belonging to Press, who was himself taken red-handed, fleeing from the scene of the crime. The principal witness against Pross was a hard-featured girl named Anne Preston, with whom it was understood the prisoner had formerly maintained relations, and who gave her evidence witn some bitterness. Bhe stated Pross to be of an ungovernably jealous disposition, that he had repeat edly accused her of meeting Mesturn, and he had threatened Me6turn's life in her presence, and in that of other per sons ; that going homo on the evening in question, she took her way across the Banefield estate, as her custom was, it be ing the nearest way. bhe had no inten tion of meeting Mesturn j had never met him, nor, indeed, had there ever been Hnythmg between them except the rehv tion of master and servant. She knew that during the lawsuit Mr. Mesturn was in the habit of walking over from Lis farm to inspect the property. Would swear she had made no appointment to meet niui on that evening. Mr. Mes turn was a hard man and a bad master Ho was not liked by his servants, and she shared in the general dislike. On that evening, the 23th of March, she had passed along tho path by the lake. It was a lonely path, sheltered by dense trees and woven brushwood, and it bent about in so many turnings that it was mipossioie to see people at a gtnau dis tance before or behind they would be obscured by the trees. She heard a cry of " Murder !" and a breaking among me Drusuwoou, apparently some dis tance behind her. This was at seven o'clock. She knew that, by hearing the bell of St. John's church strike seven within a minute before. She immedi ately ran in the direction of the voice. It was some time before she could ascer tain the precise spot sound being de ceptive amongst close trees, and she hav ing heard the cry repeated but once. It might have been ten minutes from first hearing the cry to the time she came upon Mr. Mebtuni's dead body. Wil liam Pross was fallen down beside ap parently fainting. When ho saw ber.he said, " Anne Prebton, this i your work." She felt frightened for the minute, thinking that if he chose to swear away her lite, it might be difficult to prove her own innocence. She said, " William Pross, ycu are a coward as well us a mur derer, to want to charge jour crime on me. Being terrified for htr own safety she then ran along the path, out into the open park and through the estate, and hastened into Shirlington, where she gave mfoi mation to the police. Wil liam Pross was appiehended the same evening. When charged with the ciime he dimed it, but did not attempt to in culpate any one elfe. He was remarkably self-possessed dur ing the trial. The defense set up by his counsel was, first, an alibi. It was proved by several witnesses that Pross Lad left the Maybuth inn at ten minutes to seven, and it was more than the dis tance a man could run in a quarter of an hour to the place where the crime was committed. The clock at the May bush Inn was not, however, proved re liable. Secondly, it was urged that the crime had been committed by the wit ness Anne Preston, who, it was urged, disliked Mr. Mesturn, and might not unreasonably be supposed to bave cer tain good reasons for the deed which the counsel for the defense fully hypothe cated, and be suggested bow readily she might bave used Press's kuifp for the purpose. Hubert Deverill, artist, son of the late owner of Banefield, gave the prisoner a good character, and testified, with some emotion, to his having for merly been in the service of his family. Mr. Edgar Deverill, the late owner of lianeneld, gave similar testimony. The Judge Bummed ud against the prisoner, recapitulating the threats that many witnesses had testified to have heard him utter against the deceased ; his obvious motive jealousy, with or without just reason ; and the insufficien cy of the defense. The verdict, " Guif ty," was returned with scarcely any hesitation. Before pronouncing sen tence, the prisoner was asked if he had anything to say. "I have this to say, my lord," said William Pross. " The defense set up by my counsel was contrary to my request, and untrue. My counsel told me the truth would hang me, but I wish it stated. All the witness Anne Preston has stated is strictly true ; but I did,not reach the lake until a quarter after seven by the chimes. She found me by the body. I went there, I admit, to murder Mr. Mesturn j but I found it done. The murdered man was crouched under a tree by the water. I thought him hiding away to meet Anne, but when I came up to him he did not stir. He had known as well as I what cause. I had against him, and I did not mean to strike him down asleep. I pushed him to wake him, that I might charge him witn it, but as 1 did so, the body slid down from where it was, to my horror. and lay with his head in the water ; and l saw the blood, and knew what had been done. I was stunned at the dis covery, and dropped the knife I held in my hand. Anne Preston founcLyne by the body. I swear this is the truth. My lord, 1 have no more to say." The Judge enlarged on the enormity ot tne onense, and in the course of his address made this remark : ' It has been my lot, prisoner at the bar, amid continual opportunities for the study of criminal cases, to notice that justice would rarely be ascerted but tor Borne providential .blunder on the criminal's own part, which, it seems, he is invariably bound to make. Now, had you previously made Anne Preston your wife, as it was your duty to have done, you would have shut the mouth of the only important witness against you, and justice would have been thus defeated." " My lord," said the prisoner, collect edly, "I submit you are travelling out of the record." "I sit corrected," returned the Judge, with bitter irony, having assumed the black cap ; " and therefore it only re mains for me to pass on you the custom ary sentence that you be removed to the place whence you came, and taken thence to the place of execution, there to be hung by the neck till you are dead ; and may the Lord have mercy on your soul !" The prisoner had the best of the argu ment, but the Judge had the advantage of the situation. William Pross was executed three weeks afterward, protesting his inno cence. Probably, with the exception of one person, no one in the country be lieved him. The exception alluded to does not refer to myself. Like other people, I became wise long alter the event. I had known Mr. Deverill, of Bane field, and his son Hubert, for some years before the above occurrence, epitomized from the uewspapere, took place. He was one of my earliest patrons, and, an artist myself, I had studied with, and to some extent instructed, Hubert Deverill in curly days, until he far outreached my powers of further teaching. His works became noted, and it was the gen eral opinion that he was a painter of great promise. Ho had a singular man nerism, but his coloring was remarkable for peculiarly rigid truthfulness. He never exaggerated or lowered a tone to get an effect. He would paint what he saw in a sunset, if it were vermillion. Excuse my dwelling on Hubeit Dev erill's faithfulness to color for an instant it is a very import' nt element in this brief history. The south of Hampshire is remarkable for brilliant sunsets at the two Equinoxes. Hubert was fond of painting these. I do not mean to imply he preferred extravagant effects : but it is desirable to bear in mind that if he saw crimson and purple and gold, as it were in a blaze of tire, ho would paint them so literally that you would think these pictures all wrong, until you had let them dazzle you at last into the con viction how light they were. His father, Mr. Edgar Deverill. in the days of his prosperity, had been a gen erous, open-hearted man, always ready to assist those in difficulty or distress, even to a lavishness that was stigmatized by bis neighbors as uncalled-for and in discriminate. He dated his ruin to sup porting certain promising schemes that all the world called lirjt-rute invest ments,. until their crushing failure made folks immediately coudemu them as the rasbest of speculations. His tenant, Mr. Mesturn, (visible means of support, the farm be rented from Mr. Deverill, but actually an amateur money-jobber and bill-discounter of no mean proficiency), had, strangely enough, mussed wealth from these very same r-sh speculations. It was almost entirely by his advice that Mr. Deverill had made his investments ; but whether be told out too soon or held on too long, he contrived to lose ruin ously, whilst his tenant turned money at a tremendous rate of profit. I do not say, for I do not know, and the inquiry is not worth the making (strict rectitude, in the eyes of the blind goddess of the scales, is so different to what seems such to people witli open eyes) do not say that Mr. Mesturn took any illegal advantage of Mr. Dev erill. But it is a fact that nearly all Mr. Deverill lost found its way into Mr. Mesturn's Docket. Bit by bit, Mr. Dev erill .mortgaged the farm to his tenant, men sold the right ot redemption, men mortgaged the estate to pay fresh losses, became a defaulter, the mortgage fore closed, and, but for difficulties arising irom other sources, would have taken immediate possession. - The late owner of Banefield estate, formerly open and generous-minded, became soured and istrustful of every one. scorning to seek assistance from those to whom he bad afforded it unsought, who yet passed him by on the other side, or, worse, re warded his former warm-heartedness with chilling politeness and affected courtesy. With Hubert Deverill it was different. He openly resented covert affronts offered to bis father, and boldly snubbed those who would have been willing enough to receive the young artist, almost sure of fame, while their best suit of ice was re served for his father. Hubert prew in pride as ho decreased in fortune, and people he would readily enough have met when heir to the Banefield estate, he now made no scruple of turning up his nose at as the vernacular has it. Folks said this was a bad sign in a young man who had still his fortune to carve and his way to make. It was. But Hubert had nearly made his way. He saw to the end of it ; and, meantime, he could not endure the artificial money value with which society must be pleased to stamp a man before he can pass cur rent. But he kicked against a wall of flint, against which thousands bave bruised and broken themselves before time a wall which may be surmounted with a ladder of gold, but not beaten down. Up to the time of the murder, Hubert Deverill's demeanor to the Shirlington folks generally, and to Mr. Mesturn in particular, had been offensively over bearing. Conscious of his own power as an artist, it may be ho thought to discount part of the success that surely awaited him, and assert it beforehand. I am not aware that he ever spoke to Mr. Mesturn after his father was turned out of Banefield, but I recall walking down the street with Hubert on one oc casion at Shirlington, when we met Mr. Mesturn. The young man drew a long breath, and set his teeth very close, when the farmer passed ; then turned round and took a long look after the man to whom he attributed, rightly or wrongly, his father's ruin ; nothing more. That he disliked Mr. Mesturn I had no doubt, but that he should take a public oppor tunity of exhibiting uselessly his dislike was, as I told him, extremely foolish. He admitted it was so. He was very white, and breathing fast, but he did not recur to the subject. I was not in Shirlington at the time of the murder, nor did I return thither until a month alter the trial. I heard from friends that Hubert was much al tered ; that his overbearing humor had altogether left him ; that he had become quiet and retiring, and, when brought into contact with some of those persons he had previously made no secret of de spising, that his bearing was respectful even to obsequiousness. He had felt very severely, they said, the working out of his own ill-will on Mr. Mesturn by another person, and it had mado him gentle. Banefield Park had for some time past degenerated into a copse-like wilderness of matted underwood and tall grass, and nettles and wild flowers more pictur esque to an artist than the most neatly clipped shrubs and shorn hedges could be. For habitable purposes, however, the house had dilapidated into a ruin, and the estate into a tangle nearly as involved as the Chancery case represent ing it. The public used the park as a thoroughfare, and anticipated that their descendants might turn it into villas in some future generation, when the law yers had done with it. One still evening in early summer. I took a quiet stroll through that part of the park formerly known as " the Wil derness " a title now quite applicable to the whole a scene of strange beauty, in which cultivation mingled with wild ness and rank growth in rich disorder. Here, a great, heavy chestnut tree, over spreading sombre shade; Briareus-like, its hundred hands poising each in its flat, leafy, five-fingered palm a cone of mealy bloom, balancing it truly in the soft, swaying evening breeze. There, lithe silver willows, sweeping the glistening, oily lake; and laburnums, Canae-like, arrayed in showers of gold, beneath which the buttercups looked like drops from the golden fountain. Gay wild- flowers, flaunting from out great masses of dock and thistles, overrun with briars and intergrown with feathery fern, crowded every break in the trees. The scttixg sun, burning through the tangle, stained the lake with a broken pillar of red, that waved and glittered, and swal lowed up the treo-pictures the sluggish water mirrored ntiuiiy anon. Enjoying the beauty of the spot, I started at hearing myself called, and, looking up, saw Hubert Deverill paint ing iu a covert. He beckoned me to come to him. " Hubert," I said, " why do you come to this fatal place W " 1 was drawn here, be returned. " I don't know it is my old home. I wanted to paint it. Will that do? Look," he continued ; " I think I have fixed that sun-color on the water." I looked at his sketch, and back again at him, to see if ho were serious. He appeared to be so. I could not under stand him. " Why, Hubert," I said, "it is Aiming red." " Yes," ho relumed, shortly " burn ing red." , ' But, my good fellow, you have not painted it so. Your painting is as cold and as gray as an iceberg. You are having u joke at my expense; The drawing is right enough, but it is all cold grays and green and purple. Where is your red 't" " Great heavens I" ho cried, " don't you see it is Hood-rnd '(" And he threw the picture into the like, gathered up his painting materials, and, putting his arm through mine, walked home without saying another word. I thought Mr. Mebturn's death and the associations of the bpot must have overcome him for the moment, especially remembering his ill will to the deceased, as being to his mind the willful cause of bis father's ruin. If Hubert had previously discounted his anticipated success as a painter, the bill was dishonored before it; came to maturity. From that time no one could look without pain at the most labored and carefully wrought efforts of his brush. They were all so cold cold as snow, without a particle of red to warm them. Strangely enough, he never could see this. He insisted h;s iciest pictures were glowing with warmth nay, fiery with heat. It was vain to at tempt to reason with him. He retorted bitterly that the faculty of estimating tone in color must be gone from the world, that all persons were color-blind save himself. Even when I have placed one of bis sunsets in cold grays side by side with another picture wherein the reds were faithfully given, he has been unable to detect his mistake. At such times he would steadily insist that his Eicture "killed" the other one with its rilliancy. .His expectations of being able to reinstate his father in the posi tion, he had lost were doomed to bitter disappointment. At length, he almost relinquished color, for he could please no one ; he could sell nothing he painted. He had lost the use of red. He obtained employment of a sufficiently remunera tive kind in drawing wood-blocks for engraving to support his father and him self in something like comfort, but the divine gift of color had departed from him. One night, I coaxed him to paint a crimson robe to a figure I had drawn in water-color, thinking I might lead him to the gradual recovery of the lost color. He set himself resolutely ts work with my color-box ; but when he had finished, the drapery was of a greenish-gray. He insisted, for all that, it was a fiery red, although the tone represented nearly the complementary of crimson. When he saw I was still dissatisfied, he laid down the brush, half-angry, half-tearful. Then, with a strange, wild look, Hubert whispered in my ear : It is his doing 1 He comes and steals all the red out of my pictures as I paint, and pours the blood into my eyes instead 1" and he left me. Next morning, something had hap pened so sudden and terrible that it came like a crash into my life. Hubert was dead had died in the night by his own hand I A tiny stream of blood, that had crept a sluggish, tortuous course from his bedroom-door and col lected in a tasseled blot on the stairs, had told the fate of him within. They broke open the door. The sight I can not bring myself to describe ! It is not right to describe these ecenes, with which newspaper pens make us already too familiar. He was lying on the floor ; beside him a picture the hand that bad painted it cold and dead ! It was but a sketch, but vivid to ghastliuess the most awful picture I ever beheld I It was Hubert Deverill's confession of the murder of Mr. Mes turn the murderer and his work painted by himself, and signed in large letters, "Hubert Deverill, Fecit." The color had come back to him at the last, for this terrible sketch.was all in red blood red as he had seen it. It was found with its face to the floor, dabbled with other red than his brush had laid upon it. The Xew York Horse Market. On the block adjoining the Third Ave nue Railroad Depot is located the horse market, where the masses congregate to swap steeds of doubtful qualities, of un certain Rge, and oftentimes of peculiar make-up and gait. The quadrupeds paraded range in price from twelve shillings to the reputable figure of sev enty or eighty dollars ; but when such a sum is demanded, the animal must be guaranteed to pull at least a ton on week-days and show a forty gait on Sunday over the Lane. Fred Buckley, an old New Yorker, is the lessee of the ground, and acts in the capacity of mas ter of ceremonies, in which he is most ably assisted by the polite, handbome Billy Baldwin, who is ever on the alert to see that customers receive every possi ble attention, and even occasionally takes a hand in showing off the peculiar points of some high-strung animal that no one else can manage. The buyers in the main are small farmers from Long Island, New Jersey, and Westchester, on the lookout for bargains in brood mares, licensed venders, small contractors, tin ware peddlers, with a Blight sprinkling of laboring men, anxious to take cue step up the ladder, and establish them selves as proprietors of a horse and cart. Each seller, as he enters the gate, marches direct to where the proprietor stands, and deposits in his outstretched palm a ten-cent stamp for each and every animal he has then and there on sale. A large portion of these sellers are of the class usually termed professional dealers, who flock to this market to dis pose of uncertain stock which they be come possessed of in trades with rail road companies and other horse-killing agencies animals which require an extra dose of ginger to induce them to stand up long enough to show what they had been in former days. Now and then a chance one is culled from the list which by proper care can be made not only useful but valuable. It is an unspeakable treat to listen as the praises of a horse are intoned. The charm would vanish if attempted by an untutored bungler in the art. The tone, the look, the shrug, the half-unconscious smoothing of the coat, cannot be de scribed. The charm which sells the kicker, the cribber, bides the splint or curb, and turns defects into beauties, can only be felt by direct contact with these much-abused but really gifted members of society. Tho professional dealer's love for the horse seems so deep seated that to part with one, even at his own price, appears to wring the fibres of his tender heart. The feeling is so gen eral among the craft that it must be real, and doubtless is communicated in some special manner from the horse to the professional dealer who holds the halter. Men devoid of sentiment rail at these exemplary traders, call them horse thieves and other infamous names. These should visit the gentlemen' at their stalls or on change ; and, if they bave not become too greatly prejudiced, they will soon be melted by the sincer ity, suavity and honesty which charac terize the men who spend their days and nights in close communion with the horse they love so well. tVail Leslie' Jlluslrated. An Eventful Career. THE ADVENTURES OF A FRUIT MER CHANT IN SEARCH OF GOLD. . The Detroit Pod tells this singular story : Nearly thirty years ago (1843) oyoung Englishman arrived in this country, and after working as a laborer iu New York for a few weeks, opened a small fruit store near the Battery, and doing a good business, and being of an economical turn of mind, he had amassed a small fortune at the breaking out of the California fever in 1849. In the same building and immediately above his salesroom was a young Frenchman, who sought to keep body and soul together by transferring the countenances of Gothamites to canvas, but at times his best efforts gave promise of nothing but failure. One morning the artist stopped at the fruit Btand and breakfasted upon a few pennies' worth of apples. This was repeated every morning for two weeks, and the fruit merchant became satisfied from his sunken cheeks and wildly brilliant eyes that this morning meal was the only one of the day, and that Monsieur was nearly famished. The next day he proffered assistance to the painter, and it was accepted. An ac quaintance sprang up tbat soon became friendship. The fruit dealer managed to obtain work for his artist friend, but there were times when some of the pro fits of the fruit stand were required to provide food for the painter. In 1849 the merchant was induced by the golden promises that exerted a powerful influence throughout the coun try to sail for the land of gold. His little wealth was nearly all invest ed in real estate in New York, and placing this in the hands of an agent for management during his absence, he transferred the lease of his fruit stand to the artist, with the advice to throw his easel out of the back window and give his mind to a business which, though humble, had proved remunerative, and sailed, with hundreds of other 49ers, in a sailing vessel via Cape Horn for Cali fornia. The wealth that came to others in a golden shower flitted from before his grasp, a fever laid him for weeks before the very jaws of death, and when at last he had recovered his bealth sufficiently to work he was penniless. For two years he wandered about the mining re gions, working as a laborer until he had earned a sufficient amount, when he would start out prospecting for gold on his own hook, invariably to be disap pointed. These trips through the moun tainous regions of the State had caused him to believe that in the bed of the rivers at the foot of the mountains was untold wealth that had been accumula ting for ages. A few small creeks had been turned from their channels and their beds were found to be rich iu the precious dust. How much more valu able must be the accumulated dust in the larger streams 'i Firm in the belief that great wealth awaited the daring man who could com mand sufficient means to turn from its channel a river, he labored in a mine until he had earned sufficient for his passage money to New York, when he returned to that city, disposed of his property for a sum that to most men would be wealth indeed, but to him was but the key that was to open a mine of gold. Before sailing, however, he visited the scene of his early struggles with poverty, but a block of stores eovered the site, and when at last he succeeded in tracing his former friend, he found him in a miserable little room at the top of a business block, painting and starv ing as usual. The Californian at once engaged a room better suited to the re quirements of an artist, furnished it neatly, and, paying a year's rent in ad vance, departed with the oft-repeated blessings cf Monsieur. Every ono knows how bitterly disap pointed were those who sought wealth in California by turning large streams from their beds, and the large companies, representing a capital stock of hundreds of thousands of dollars, who lost their last dollar in such enterprises, and such was the fate of the intrepid fruit mer chant. Stripped of his last dollar, he became an adventurer. Every fresh dis covery of gold would see him among the thousands who had flocked thither. At last he joined a party who had decided to return to the States by the then perilous overland route. At last, when they had almost reached the civilized Eortions of Missouri, they were attacked y a powerful band of Indians, most of them were killed, but a few, including himself, were taken prisoners. Thirteen months among the Osages, during which time he enjoyed himself even less than in draining barren Cali fornia streams, and be then managed to escape, finding his way to New Orleans, as he expresses it, "without a cent of money in my pockets, and not a pocket in my clothes that would hold money." The first employment he obtained here was as a laborer on the docks, but his extensive acquaintance with the extreme West soon gained him a situation in a firm engaged in the West and South western supply trade. The store was located iu a block of four-story buildings, and one day he saw a familiar figure passing up the stairway leading to the upper stories, and following after, dis covered bis old friend the painter located in a little sky-lighted room, where he was earning as precarious an existence as of old, by coloring photographs. Their f iendship was renewed, but the break ing out of the rebellion offered a field for adventure, and the whilom fruit mer chant soon drifted into the ranks of a Louisiana. regiment, and, until the end of the war, he followed the fortunes of the Confederate army, peace finding him again without a dollar. Since that time he has again visited California with his usual success, being one of the hund reds who joined the Magdalena Bay colonization party, and nearly starved among that ill-starred band of victims' to a few villainous speculators. A few weeks ago he reached this city, and has returned to his early love, opening a small fruit stand in a room on the f round-floor of a two-story wooden uilding, and he informed our reporter on Saturday that, in a little back room iust over his store he had discovered that ittle French artist painting a cigar sign on a strip ot tin. Strength of tho Patugons. A "French traveller, M. A Guinnard, has published an account of what befell bim when, in the naughtiness of his heart, he ventured into the wilds of South America. His captivity lasted three years, and is related in his narra tive published under the title " Trois Ans d'Esclavage chez les Patagons." The Puelches sold him out of speculation to some eastern Patagons. Continual opportunities of observing the bodily strength of the Patagons en abled their captive, who witnessed their numerous exercises, to feel assured that it greatly surpasses that of the Europeans. He saw them adroitly seize with the lasso an untamed horse, pull it up sud denly when at full speed, resist unaided the animal's shock simply by leaning in the opposite direotion, until it rolled half-strangled on the ground ; and their muscles, while performing these fnats, were not more apparent than in their normal state. The physical organiza tion of the Indians is much superior to that of civilized men. They bear, with the greatest ease, continued privation and fatigue, during journeys of two or three months, which they perform al most without taking rest, galloping on day and night. When they start on a pillaging expedition four or five hund red leagues off, besides the twenty or thirty horses which each man has with him, they take scarcely anything except tne lassos, lances and boleadoras, which they employ both for procuring the means of existence and for fighting. Only the epicures of the party put under the piece of leather, which serves as a saddle, a few slices of salt meat dried in the sun, which they eat with a mixture ot horse and beef fat. M. Guinnard observes that the stature of the Patagons approached six feet, but their personal type differed little from that of the Puelches. Their bust was long, compared with their height, so that on horseback they looked taller than they really were. Their limbs we;re well proportioned ; their heads large, almost square, flat on the top of the skull ; the torehead, and also the chin, projecting, which, combined with a long, thin nose, gave them a singular profile. Present Excitements in Ulnli. A correspondent of the Chicago Times writes ironi Bait Jiake uity : This place is brim-full of speculators and Gentiles, who have been drawn hither by the discovery of the richness ot the silver mines in this vicinity, East, south, and southwest of here, the mountains are pregnant with argentif erous deposits, and the city is over whelmed by a rush of silver hunters. Sitting around in front of the Town shend House are one hundred pairs of legs pointing skyward, ending in the one direction with one hundred pairs of teet braced against boxes and shade trees, and in the other direction, with fifty bodies whose owners were all talk ing of lodes, dumps, prospects, shares, bullion, Emma, Blackhawk, Jim Smith (of Chicago.) Queen of the West, and a thousand other things too numerous to particularize. Over at the Salt Lake, one hundred legs, one hundred feet, and fifty bodies are going through the same process. Over in a saloon, on Main street, is Captain Jim Smith (of Chica go,) taking his twenty-fourth drink it is now eleven A. M. and talking with somebf dy else, who has just taken hiB sixteenth drink, ot shares, lodes, dumps, bullion, and the rest of it. In front of every whiskey shop, inside oi every whiskey shop, at the post office corner, in all the assay offices, and out ot all the assay offices are knots com posed of three or four men who are bearded and swart, and whose conver sation i s all about lodes, dumps, bull ions, lamina, iiiackhawk, Jim Smith (of Chicago,) and kindred subjects. There are groat bars of bullion piled up at the btreet corners, and Binaller bars ot pure silver on exhibition in tho Bbop windows. In every man's fingers there is a specimen of argentif erous mineral, in his eyes a blaze of excitement, and on his breath the tumes of Gentile whiskey. in Anecdote of Everett. In his speech at the Amherst semi centennial commencement Professor Park said : " I have recalled this after noon a scene which occurred thirty-six years ago, on the day preceding com mencement. Elward Everett then de livered the oration. In the midst of the oration he uttered one sentence which called forth bursts of applause. " I will read that sentence : ' Before the admiring student of nature has realized all the wonders of the world, let him sit down and know the universe in which he lives, by examining the races . of animals disporting themselves in their representative ocean a drop of water.' " After that sentence, it appeared as if all Amherst College would not cease ip clap their hands and stamp their feet, and yet you seem to be unmoved by the recital. The reason is found in the studied artlessness of Edward Everett. " While he was on the point of Bpeak ing the words, a 'drop of water,' he turned carelessly and saw a glass of water on the table. He put his finger in the glass, and a drop of water was sus pended therefrom. I have it on the best authority that six or seven weeks before that oration was delivered, Everett wrote a letter to a friend in Boston, ask ing him whether , so bold a gesture would be proper." t Another step toward Teutonizing Al sace has been taken by Prussia, in an order regulating the use of French in the .public schools of Strasbourg and other towns. - The order direct that public schools may retain the use of the French language temporarily in the upper classes, but German only will be permitted to bo used for the lower forms. MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS. Having been disappointed in love n Cleveland crirl verv naturallv threw her self into the lake, but was fished out. The act providing an annuity of 15,- 000 per annum to Prince Arthur is to take effect from the 1st of May last.' ' The Rev. Mrs. Celia Burleigh has ac cepted pastoral charge of the Unitarian Church at Brooklyn, Conn. Mrs. Myra Clark Gained, having put up her claim of (125,000 against New Orleans at auction, it was knocked down at 139,000. Life insurance agents in Georgia so licit policies by advertisements printed on sugar-plums and sent to the farmers' children. Bret Harto has reached the summit of earthly happiness. A hotel at Cohoes, N. Y., was recently opened under the name of the " Bret Harte." Napoleon, unwilling that his exile should completely deprive the poor of Paris of the gifts he was aocustomed to make to them on the loth of August, distributed a large amount of relief in the poorer districts of the city. The. Brotherhood of Locomotive En gineers now has 133 divisions or lodges in the United States and Canada. They will hold their eighth annual meeting in Toronto in October. The association has accumulated a fuud of $10,000. The last mail brought very bad news from Banda, the isle of ppices. Bad weather, which lusted six weeks, has damaged tho nutmeg trees enormously. The whole crop fell in an unripe state off the trees. The damage amounts to more than half a million ot guilders. During the present year our Govern- 1 ment has received from the Royal Gar dens at Kew, London, 1,200 distinct spe cies of seeds and plants, being mainly flower-seeds, intended for experimental purposes at the Botanical Garden, where they have been planted and produced fine results. An unhappy resident of Buffalo, who has been long tormented by an offensive odor about his premises, and against whom the health officers had actually commenced a suit for maintaining a nuisance, has jnst discovered that it is caused by a flow of natural gas in his cellar. The Mont Cenis tunnel has been suc cessfully opened, and trains are now passing through it without delay. This tunnel, which was commenced by Ca vour, and intended as a great national enterprise to connect Piedmont and Sa voy, has risen to an international im portance, and has more than once been the oocasion for diplomatic spats. The Massachusetts Woman Suffrage Association is to hold a series of mass conventions in every county in the State. Thirty meetings are to be held in Berk shire county alone, and among the speak ers announced are Julia Ward Howe, Lucy Stone, Mary A. Livermore, Mar garet Campbell, Adah C. Bowles, Henry B. Blackwell, and Mary Eastmann. Chicago has a "Slough of Despond," otherwise known as Iiealey's Slough, which seems to be a sink ot contagion and death. It is a sort of dead lake, in the midst of the city, and is " covered with a deposit of two foet of animal matter." The authorities have juBt or dered the place to be dredged, by way of averting further serious consequences to the public health. Mrs. Van Hannon revived in Montana, the other day, the memories of our Revo lutionary dames. Left alone in her cabin, she was startled by the approach cf three Cheyennes, and had barely time to bolt the door when the Indians flung themselves against it. Sending her children into the cellar, the heroio young woman seized a revolver and gun, and confronted the Indians at the open win dow. Ths redskins were finally driven off, after firing the barn. By an enactment of the last session of the Vermont Legislature only graduates of normal schools are to be permitted to serve as teachers in tho public schools of the State. As there are something over 2,000 districts in the State, with not more than one-fourth that number of available graduates, and the " normals " aro 6i only about 100 school ma'am power annually, of whom at least twenty per cent, will get married and retire every year, the rural districts are neces sarily trying to reconcile themselves to shutting up their literary shops until their law-makers come to their senses. A Kentucky man who attempted to cross a high railroad bridge at Shep herdsville, in that State, a few days since, stumbled and fell between the ties, but fortunately managed to grasp a tie with his hands, and there hung dangling, with one hundred feet of sheer fall beneath him. He was utterly unable to regain the top of the bridge, and he hung on with a death grasp un til his cries brought assistance. Lifted from his perilous position, he was led off the bridge, apparently overcome by the danger through which he had passed. Thau he got up, as he said, to go home, walked a few steps, and fell to the ground dead. Physicians, who have carefully examined his body, say that there was no bruise or wound sufficient to disable him, much leBS cause death, and are of opinion that his death was caused by fright. ' ' ' . - A curious illustration of the probable loss of bonds to which no clue can be obtained, when not registered, is afford ed in the recent count of the old Rot land and Burlington first mortgage bonds. It is more than four years since holders of them were advertised for, and it is eighteen months since the contra-! versy, which vexed the Vermont courts for so many years, as to the status of these bonds, was decided and their set tlement provided for. Out of (1,800,000, the whole issue of these bonds, $1,756,. COO have passed into the control of the Rutland Railroad for settlement and conversion into preferred, ,b took. , Of tha f 43,000 (till left out, the owners of but 6,000 have been heard f, and it is not unlikely that tho greater part of the rest have been lost or mislaid, or perhaps destroyed as worthless.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers