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.