' f,L L-C.
i . ' ; . : ,. ,,,7
ia. lil iv -r 4,
HENRY, A. PARSONS, Jr., Editor and Publisher.
NIL, DESPERANDUM.
:.; :.!
Two Dollars per Annum.
Mm
1 YiiilH i lYQW
liinpc
L with
VOL. VI.
Lore and Mischief.
One sunny day Love clone to stray
' Adown a rsy path forbidden,
Whore Slisuhief dee"p in arubush lay.
And watched bis mare 'neath flowa-.a
hidden
tore tumbling In, begun to shout,
For Mischief's aid lest he should amort er:
" Ton little demon, let me out,
) I'll report you to my mother."
Baid Mischief i I'll not Bet yoa free
Unless yon share your power with me,
And Kive of every heart you gain
Onf-half to Joy and half tn pain."
Love struggled, but in vain, alas I
Ho was not bora to pr-ive a msit; r
And, sail to tell I it came to pass
Do ave in to the Iitrle Tartar.
Love flew to Wntm in a pot.
And cried, v h n be had told bis story :
" Oh, Quern of Beauty, never l.t
That little imp wear lmlf my glory."
The Koddos?, with a look sedate,
Replied, " I cannot alter fate,
Bat you shall conquer still, my bty,
I'll ukke love's pain airre sweit than
Joy."
THE CLUB FOOT.
A DETECTIVE'S STORY.
One cold January night I was Boated
cozily by my fireside, enjoying a enp of
tea which my wife knows so well hnw to
make, when a violent ting at the front
uoor ben disturbed the reverie in which
I was indulging.
My visitor wan a very handsome young
Kn hi hwuu eiguceen years or ago. She
van dressed with preut taste, and evi
duutly belonged to tlie npppr ranks of
lite, hue appeared somewhat embnr
Kissed, as if she were at a loss how to
begin the conversation.
" Have 1 the pleasure of speaking to
iLT. dames liramptont" the said, at last,
" That is my nut. e." I replied.
" My uaaie, sir," continued the young
gin, giiiiiug courage, "is .ttiiza, Mil
ford."
"Milfoid," said I, " what, the daugh
ter of the gentleman who has lately so
mysteriously disappeared, with the ac
count of which the papers have been so
inu tor the past few !aysr
tt hi. . .. ...
- i.no mime, ana it is on that very
"'wows x nave come to consult you.
You are perhaps aware that avonnflr man
has been urrested on suspicion of having
tut-..n l.io i;r v
"Yep, a Mr. lleury Waring, I be-
li re? "
" les, sir, that is his name that
young man is lDnocent."
" Indeed 1"
I will make a plaiu statement of the
facts of the case, and then I am sure you
will agree with ma. My father's iiama, as
yon are aware, is Mr. Herbert Milford.
We live on the banks of the North river,
about twelve miles from New York. My
father was devotedly attached to me, and
we live. 1 as happily as possible together.
Abont a year ago I was introduced to
the son of a gentleman living in the
neigiiuoriiood, ana mutual love sprung
up between us. Henry Waring visited
my father's house every night. But sud
denly our dream of happiness was dissi
pated, and that, too, by an extraordinary
circumstance. Henry was early one
morning found in the garden attached
to our houso in a half senseless condi
tion, his clothes and hands were "overed
with blood, and my father had mysteri
uuBiy uiHuppeureu. x.very search was
made for him, but without any avail,
and Henry was arrested on the charge
of having murdered him and concealed
the body somewhere.
" That was a very strange conclusion
to come to," said.I, interrupting her.
" Yes, but yoii have not heard all,"
she replied. " My father's watch and
purse were found iu Henry's pocket at
the time he was arrested."
" How does Mr. Waring account for
that?" I asked.
"I don't know,"replied Miss Milford,
" for I have not been permitted to see
him. He has been removed to the
county jail, and his case has not yet
been investigated, owing to the fact of
my fntber'8 body not having been dis
covert! But to suppose that Her.ry
could be guilty of murder and robbery,
is too prepocterous to be In lieved for a
moment."
"Such would cetfaiuly appear to be
tho case," I return! ; " i.ut did not
the place where Mr. Wuring waa arrest
ed reveal nothing?"
" Oh, yes, a terrible struggle had evi
dently taken place there. The flowers
and roots were torn up, the shrubbery
uroKen, ine ground in venous places
was covered with blood, and a knife was
found which was proved to have belonged
YY (W
fou
I to Henry, also stained with the vital
fluid."
Da L understand that vour father
posed no obstacle to vour marriure
with him f
7 " None at all, sir ; iu fact my fatht r
I loved him."
I " How long ago is it since your father
was missing?"
"1 his is the fourth day. My motive,
Mr. Brampton, in applying to you, is to
free Mr. Henry Waring from the impu
tation of a crime of which 1 am sure he
is as innocent as I am."
" It does indeed soem improbable that
he oommitted the deed. The firi-t thing
I must do is to see Mr. Henry Waring, and
hear what explanation he lias to give."
"Thank you, sir," said Miss Milford.
"When shall I come and see you
again? '
" Are you staving iu New York I"
" Yes, sir ; lam staying with an
aunt."
" Very well, when I have anything to
communicate to you I will call."
The next morning I started for tho
r town of Li., situated on the Hudson
f River railroad, in the prison of which
I Mr. Waring vas confined. I had some
V I'm- ...u . . ...
wiiiu uiuicuuy in obtaining admission
to the prisoner, but when I stated that
I waa a detective officer, an order was
reluctantly given me.
The moment I entered his cell, Mr.
Waring advanced to meet me. In a few
words I told him of Miss Milford't visit '
to me, and that I was acting bj her in
structions. " . I
I own the circumstantial evidence
appears to be very strong against me,
he replied, " and I am afraid my plain
unvarnifned nvory will not do much
ward disproving it. But the following
are the simple facta of the case : Ou the
night in question I visited Milford
house as usual. I stayed theie until
eleven o clock and then took mv leave,
I was accustomed to return home by the
garden at tne bacK 01 tlie House, as J
saved something in distanoe by so doing,
un tno mgnt i refer to, 1 was about
dozen yards from the back gate when
two men started up from behind some
bushes, and seized hold of me. Before
I bad time to defend mjself, one of
tliein Mrnek 1110 a violent blow on the
uead which knocked mo down senseless,
W hen I recovered it wan dnrlieht. and
must have been thero ail night. I found
ioy hands and clothes covered with
blood, Rnd my knife which I carried for
seit-ueionsQ aiistraoted from my pocket,
I had scarcely risen to my feet when
was seized and accused of having mur
aerea jur. miitord.
"But how about the watch aud
purse V
i assure you no one was more sur
prisea tnan myseu wnen tney were
taken from my pocket.
"How long a time had you parted
witn mr. iuuiord wnen you were assail
. 1 II. At, "
eu in me garacn 1
"Mr. Milford usually retired at ten
o clock, lea ing Miss Milford and my
self up together."
After a little more conversation with
the prisoner, I withdrew, not very well
satisfied with the result of my visit. It
is true it served to confirm me in the
opinion I had formed of Waring's inno
cence, but 1 was no nearer discovering
me 1 ruin man beiore.
My next proceeding was to make
strict examination of the ptemises lately
-. ' 1 1 nc n 1 1 . . . . .
uuuupieu ny lur. xutuoru, auu especially
tno opoi wnere jur. juutord nad been as
sailed. The houso afforded us no clew.
but tho garden convinced me that the
disorder thero had been mode after the
young man had been struck, and that it
was not occasioned by any real struggle
mat nad tasen place, bat to induce the
oenei tuat sncli a struggle had occurred,
There was too much regularity iu the
uprooting of the flowers and roots, and
the shrubbery was brokrn too system
atically not to set this point at rest to
me eye oi tne detective.
1 discovered that the most minute
search had bet n made for Mr. Milford's
body, but without any success. After
making these investigations, I returned
to Mow York, and really saw but little
hope of being able to unravel the mys-
wery.
Threo weeks passed away, and I had
not discovered one single link in the
chain I was seeking to find. One day
Miss Milford called ou mo again. In a
iw words I told her. that ur to thn
present time my researches had all been
iruui'iss. Riio jooiied disannnintail.
Have you heard." she said, "that
my uncle, Mr. Oliver Milford, is occupy
ing Linden Manor House ?"
lour undo occuovinff Linden
Manor House!" I exclaimed, in a tone
of great surprise.
les, he appeared there two weeks
igo, and claimed all mv lather's uron.
erty by virtue of a will which he ex
aibited, and by which he was made soln
ueir to all my father s estates. "
Are you sure that tho will is a Pen
nine one 1 1 asued, a ray of hobe enter
ing mymind.
Xliere can be no doubt that it was
signed by my father," she replied.
lint who is this uncle of vours ? I
never heard you mention him before.
1 had almost forgotten his existence.
for the fact is, my father and he were not
on good terms tc gethtr, and his name
was scarcely ever mentioned.
"Are you left nothing in this will?"
"Nothing."
"Is it not very stranare. Miss Milford.
that your father should have left your
uucie an nis property r
"It is, indeed, very strange," replied
the young lad "They have never
spokvn to each other for years. My
lamer count never bear to near the name
of his bryther Oliver mentioned, and
whenever ho did speak of him. which
Lavo before said was soldom, ho al
ways ppofce of him as a bad hearted
man.
And jet von say the biarnalure to the
will was in your father's handwriting ?"
loi, nr. I am perfectly satisfied of
: eo much bo, that when some of mv
ilk-nds advised me to contest the validity
of the will, being firmly conviuced that
my father really did sipn it. I refused
moot positively. I caro nothing about
my father's wealth, and it is not to re
gain this that I af.k your assistance, sir ;
my niiupiu wim is 10 outaiu jut. iienry
Waring s release.
"Has the will beeu proved ? I asked.
"Oh, ye,' ehe replied, "mv unole
has taken full possession."
"And what have you been doing
since f " I asked, more out of curiosity
than anything else.
"1 have obtained some musio pupils,
and I am doing very well, as I before
said. I have no concern about myslf."
" Hive you any lutter or document
with your lather's signature attached to
it?"
" I have a number at home," she re
plied ; " by-the bye, I think I have a
letter of his with me now, written to me
some six years ago, when he was in Al
bany." So saying she took from her reticule
the letter iu question, and handed it to
me.
"Will jou allow me to retain posses
sion of this 1" I asked.
"Certainly," she replied; "but I
can assure you that if you suppose the
will to be a forgery you are mistaken.
The will is undoubtedly genuine."
" Well, my dear young lady," I re
turned, " I do not doubt your word, but
you may be mistaken. At all events I
bhould like to judge for myself."
I then bade her good morning, and
expressed a wish to see her again that
day week. When she had gone, I im
mediately put ou my bat and coat, and
directed my steps to the recorder's of
fice, for the purpose of examining the
will. Aided by the index I found it
readily, and commenced to read every
word of it. .
At last I came to the signature. I
took from my pocket the letter Miss
Milford had given me, for the purpose
of comparing the signatures. There
RIDGAVAY, ELK COUXTY, PA., THURSDAY, AUG UST 3,
could be no doubt whatever but the sig
nature was genuine; the letters were
found exactly the same, and were evi
dently written by the same hand. Still
thi re was a marked difference between
the two. Tliat attached to the letter
was bold and fi. u-, while that attached to
the will was weak and tremulous. The
will was witnessed by John Dorsey.
The fact of the difference in the sig
natures immediately aroused my sus
picions. A person's signature rarely
differs except when the mind is influ
enced. But then again I reflected that
time might impair a person's writing,
nud I compared the date of the will
with that of the letter. What was my
nstonishment to find that they were
both dated on the same day, namely,
January 1, 1840. I next held up the
document to the light, for the purpose
of seeing if there was a water mark on
the paper. I found such was the ctse,
and the "Connecticut Mills, 1818,"
could be made out most distinctly.
Here was a will purporting to have
been signed in New York on the first
day of January, 1840, by a man who
was in Albany on that day, and on
paper that was made three years after
ward. And yet there could be no dis
puting the fact that the signature was a
genuine one. The wholo truth in a
moment flashed across my mind, and I
immediately set about unraveling the
web. I went to work with a good heart,
for I had but little doubt of suocess.
My first proceeding was to make in
quiries as to the exact date of Mr. Mil
ford's disappearance. I discovered that
it as on the tenth day of January, oud
that Oliver Milford hod come to take
possession of the property on tho
twenty-nrst. also made inquiries as
to the past life of tho heir of the prop
erty, and fouud that in Boston, from
which city he came, he bore a very dis
reputable character, and that no one
would trust or believe him. I then re
turned to L., and putting up at tho
country tavern, I called the landlord ou
one side.
"Mr. Adams," said I, "do you know
any one of the name of Dorsey living in
mis neignuornood 1
"les, sir; there s a Mr. John Dorcov
who lives over the river."
" What kiud of a man is he ?" I
asked.
He's a very tall, stronsr man." he
replied.
1 mean what kind of a character
does he bear?"
"Well, I can't say much iu his favor.
to I would rather not say anything."
1 suppose ne is not very much liked
by his neighbors?"
" lou may well say that. Ever since
he attacked poor Mr. Milford so savage
ly, nobody speaks to him."
" He attacked the late Mr. Milford.
.lid he ?"
" Yes, sir: a most unprovoked assault.
It seems that Mr. Milford offended this
man iu some way, aud oue day there was
sate iu town, and Mr. Milford and
Dorsey both bid fcr the same article.
It waa kuocked down to the former, and
it was after the sale that the assault was
ommitted.
"Was Dorsey prosecuted for it?"
"Yes, he was imprisoned f or a vear.
and had to pay a heavy lino."
1 learned all I wanted to know, and
changed the conversation. ,
I made inquiries as to the exact spot
where the witness of the will lived. I
learned that it was across the river on a
small island, the whole of which- he
ow;ied. I procured a boat and rowed
lir.'clly across the river was not very
broad. I then skirted along the hhore
until I came to a landing place. After
I had proceeded a quarter of a mile, I
reached a spot where-the marks of
hor.-es' feet were plainly to be traced
on tha snow. It was evident that horses
had been embarked at this point on a
boat or raft; and had been conveyed to
the other side at tho point from which
I had started.
I made my boat fast and looked about
me. I found that the island was small,
and so thickly studded with greeu trees
that I could see but very little in ad-
nuce of me. Takine. however, the
horses' hoofs for my guide. I came unon
an old dilapidated stone building which
had evidently been built long anterior
to the devolution. It seemed to be en
tirely unoccupied, for the shutters were
clo.ed, and thick grass and weeds grew
in profusion.
1 walked all round the house, but
could not find a living soul visible, but
was rewarded with a sierht which made
my blood tingle iumy veins, for it served
to Mibstantiate my theory with respect
to clearing up the mystery, and this
sight was nothing less than the impres
sion of a club foot many times repeated,
near the front entrance of the house,
thus showing conclusively that Mr. Oli
ver Milford was a frequent visitor at
Mr. Dorsey's.
I rung the bell, and receiving no an
swer, I opened the door, which was un
fastened. It was evident that Mr. Dor
sey lived by himself, for there was only
one room furnished, and that but mea
geily. The first thing that I noticed
was a candle and box of Inciter matches
on tbe table in the room. Although it
was daylight I lighted the candle" and
begun to explore the houso. I first of
all examined the upper portion of it,
but found nothing. I then examined
the ground floor with the same success.
did not feel discouraged, for I felt al
most satisfied from the fact of the cau
dle being there that such would be the
result.
I next proceeded to examine the cel
lar, and had not descended half a dozen
steps before I heard a faint groan. I
rushed forward, and entered a spacious
vault. In a corner of this damp, dark
and dismal dungeon, reclining on a heap
of straw, with manacles on his wrists
and ankles, I saw an old man whom I
was satisfied was Mr. Herbert Milford.
held the candle over his head and saw
that he was sleeping. At that moment
heard the sound of footsteps behind
me, and turning round Faw that it was
Mr. Oliver Milford advancing toward
me with all the ferocity of a tiger, A
terrible struggle ensued, but I was thj
younger man of the two, aud finally
succeeded in overpowering him, and iu
fixing the manacles, with which he had
loaded his poor brother, on his wribts
and feet.
The poor old gentleman was oonv'eved
back to his residenoe, and was sooa
gratified with his daughter's presence.
Young Waring was immediately released
from confinement.
I may add that in a month or two
Eliza Milford and Henry Waring were
married. Oliver Milford died after four
years' confinement in the State prison,
where he had been condemned for life.
Dorsey escaped. By some means he
learned that his victim had been dincov
ored, and at once started for New York.
I need scarcely add that it was Dorsey
iind Oliver Milford who had made the
attack on Waring, and placed the watch
and purse of their prisoner m his pock
ot, for the purpose of causing him to be
suspected of having murdered the old
gentleman.
A Grateful Widower..
Sir Walter Scott used to be fond of
telling the following story of his cousin
"Watty." Watty aforesaid was a mid
shipmau in the British navy. On a cer
tain occasion he and his racEsmates had
gone on shore at Portsmouth, aud had
overstayed their leave, besides spending
all their money and running up a bill at
a tavern at the Poin Their ships made
signal for sailing, peremptorily calling
all hands on board, but when they
would have started the landlady said:
"No, gentlemen, you cannot escape
without paying your reckoning," Aud
to confirm her words, she called a bail
iff nnd his posse to take oharge of them.
Tho midshipmen felt they were in a
bad scrape, and begged to be released.
' No, no," said the resoluto matron,
"I must bo satisfied in some way. You
nvtiat be aware, gentlemen, that you will
be totally ruined and disgraced if you do
not go on board in time."
They groaned bitterly, for they knew
that she opoke the truth.
" Well," she continued, "I'll give you
all a chaucc. I am so circumstanced that
I c:iunot well carry on my business as a
singl.) woman and I must contrive somo
how to have a husband, or, at all events,
I must bo able to produce a marriage
ccrtifiRP.te. Now, the only terms upou
which I will set you free are that ono of
; ou shall consent to marry me I I don't
cars a snap which it is ; but, by all that
i holy, one of you I will have for a hus
band, or else you all go to jail, aud your
ship sails without you."
Tho vixen was not to be coaxed nor
treated. Tears and prayers were of no
avail. After a time the poor middies
agreed to draw lots. Watty drew the
matrimonial slip o doom. No time was
to be lost. A marriapre license was speed
ily procured, and they went to the near
est church, where the knot was tied.
The bride ou htrreturn to hertavern gave
them a good dinner, with plenty of wine
and then sent them off in her wherry.
Of her own accord she had proposed to
her husband that, as the marriage cer
tificate was her chief prize, he was at
iiut-ny m iivh Hpnri ioin ner iore-re it
he so chose.
The ship sailed, and the young gen
tlemen religiously adhered to the oath
of secrecy they had made previous to
drawing lots. A year after, at Jamaica,
a file of Euglish papers reached the
midshipman s berth, and Watty, who
was carelessly looking them over, was
attracted by the account of a robbery
and . murder, and the execution of the
culprits at Portsmouth. Suddenly loan
ing to his feet, and waving the paper
above his head, forgetful of his oath in
the excitement of his ecstasy, he cried
out: "Thank Heaven 1 My wife is
hangod!"
A Hazardous Experiment.
Daniel Hurley is a hod carrier, and
lives with his family in the top story of
a five story brick tenement at 507 Thir
teenth street, New York. On hot nights
ne nas slept on tne roof, which is un
guarded by any rail, and ou three sides
thero is sheer descent to tho curb
stones of the rear yards. One night
residents in tho neighborhood heard
cries for help and police. Mauy gath
ered in the rear yard, but could not as
certain the directiou whence the voico
came. Mrs. Hurley was aroused, aud
ran about the house calling for her hus
band. Au officer came quickly, aud
soon four or five more policemen were
on the ground. Mm. Hurley fell in the
street, overcome with terror.
Tho officers descried Hurley dangling
in the air at the back of the house at
Thiiteenth street aud Avenuo A. In the
obscurity of the night the men could
not see what sustained him, but Hurley
shouted: "I'm 0:1 the clot hesline ; for
God's sake, help 1 I cau't hold out
must longer. I'm slipping 1" The offi
cers, followed by tho neighbors, ran
first to one housetop and then to another,
and at last reached the one from which
Hurley hung. Other officers placed
themselves in the yard uudor tho sus
pended man, that they might break his
fall if he lost his bold. Hurley faintly
called: " nurry up ;I'm about gone."
The policemen tied a clothes line to the
rope on which Hurley lay, and were
about to cut the latter cord from its
fastening in the window, wheu the
stap'o by which it was attaohed to the
hou-'e gave way. Hurley, dangling at
the end. was dropped to a point mid
way between the housetop and the
ground, and there held by the cord
in the hands of tho policemen. Slowly
hfl waa lowered to the ground, where he
lay panting and exhausted for several
momenta. He said he remembered
nothing until he fouud himself falling,
and then he clutched at the rope. He
tLonght he was going down stairs to
bed until the rope cut him. Then he
held on with both bands, and called for
aid. Probably he rose in his sleep, and
walked over the roofs to the edge of
503, imagined that the courtyard was
his bedroom, and stepped into it.
Texas Cattle Trade.
The Texas cattle trade has reached
huge propoitions, the number of cattle
driven from the southwestern portion of
that State during the spring and sum
mer of the present year, up to July 9,
being 811,800, according to the statis
tics given in the Kansas City Price
Current. Of this number 52,338 have
been held in northern Texas, while the
remainder have been driven north.
Besides those inoluded in the above es
timates, several thousand head of cattle
that ""ere wintered in northern Texas
have joined the others on their way to
markets in the North and East
' TUE USIOX.
Tbe Original Ttilrtrrn-Onln .Mhr Attmls
iIm tribe Additional Mintr..
The admission of Colorado makes the
twenty-fifth new State added to the
Union sinoe the war of national inde
pendence. The original family, who united July
4, 1776, to form a nation of one people,
were :
1. New Hampshire.
9. Massachusetts.
8. Delaware.
9. Maryland.
10. Virginia.
11. North Carolina.
8. Rhode Inland.
4. Connecticut.
8. New York.
0. New Jersey.
7. Pennsylvania.
112. South Carolina.
13. Georgia.
The following States have been ad
mitted in the years set opposite each
name.
14. Vermont, from New York 1791
15 Kentucky, from Virgitia 1792
Ifi. 'i'onnoi-Bee, from North Carolina 1790
17. Ohio, from Northwestern Territory. . .. 1802
18. Louisiana, bought from France, 180S..1812
1. Indiaua, from Northwestern Territory.1816
20. Mimiesippt, from Oeorgia 1817
21. Illinois, from Northwestern Territory. 1818
22. Alabama, from Georgia , 1819
23. Maine, from Massachusetts 1820
24. Missouri, from the Louisiana purchase.1821
29. Arkansas, from the Louisiana purchase. 1835
2G. Michigan, from Nonh western Terri
tory IS87
JT. Flodda ceded by Spain, 1820 admit
. t8(l ....1845
28. Texas, from Mexico, annexed 1845
29. Iowa, from Louisiana purchase 1846
30. Wisconsin, from Northwestern Terrl-
, V"7 lfl4P
31. California, conquered from Mexico.... 1850
a. Minnesota, naif from Northweetern
Terri'ory, half from Louisiana pur
chase, 1R57
3S. Oregon, from England by treaty. . .... 1859
ox. Animas, irom ijouisiana purcnase of
1803 1861
as. WeBt Virginia, from Virginia 1863
36. Nevada, conqiured from Mexico 1864
01. rtenranHa, from .Louisiana purchase of
1803 1S67
aa. iOioraao, partly from Louisiana pur
chase, and cart conauored from
Mexico 1876
Territories remaining to be organized
into states : ,
1. NewMoxicJ i5i
2. Utah i50
3. Washington IR53
. iiniiota, lhfii
0. Ar.ioua isfls
0. mauo isrs
Montana. isdi
8. Wyoming isf.a
9. Alaska i8C8
Dint, or uolnmbia, seat of government.. 1790
The Latest Wonder.
ihe readers of the Boston Traveller,
that paper says, have been made ac
quainted with the wonderful inventions
cf Prof. Bell, by which musical and
vocal sounds can be and have been sent
over the electrio wires, but few if any
-.. e . 1 . . . ,. . . r
ara nwure oi me wonaenui results which
are sure to follow these improvements
111 teiegrapny. a few nights Ago Prof,
Bell was in communication with n. teln.
graphic operator in .New Xork, and com
menced experimenting with one of his
inventions pertaining to the transmission
of musical sounds. He made use of his
phonotio organ and played the tune of
.i.i. v . .on, nuu uojicu luu operator lu
Now York what he heard.
"I heard the tune of 'America,'"
replied New York; "give us another."
Prof. Bell then played " Auld Lang
oyne.
" What do you hear now ?"
"I hear the tuue of Auld Lang Syne,
with the full chords, distinctly," replied
New York,.
Thus the astounding discovery has
been made that a man can play upon
mnsical instruments in New York, New
Orleans, or London, or Paris, and be
heard distinctly in Boston 1 If this can
be done, why cannot distinguished per
formers execute the most artistic and
beautiful musio in Paris, aud an au
dience assemble in Music Hall, Boston,
to listen ?
Prof. Bell's other improvment, name
ly, the transmission of the human voice,
has become' so far perfected that persons
have oonversed over 1,000 miles of wire
with perfect ease, although as yet the
vocal bounds are not loud enough to be
heard by more than one or two persons.
But if the human voice can now be sent
over the wire, and so distinctly that
when two or three known parties are
telegraphing, the voices of each can be
recognized, we may Boon have distin
guished men delivering speeches in
Washington, New York, or London, and
audiences assembled in Musio Hall or
Faneuil Hall to listen.
A Girl's Picnic.
The Watertown (N. Y.) Despatch says
the girls up there got up a picnic and
had a glorious time of it altogether.
They had lots of tea and sugar and milk
(which all got sour), but no matches,
aud plenty of pickles, sponge cake and
butter, but no bread. Add to this that
each of the girls got her mother to let
ner bring a roast turkey, so as to aston
ish the rest of the girls and show that
she could do things in style, and that
they had ' no knives and forks, ard,
though lots of plates, no drinking nten
til, it is not difficult to see that their
commissariat was well organized, and a
source of much harmony, pleasure and
sutiaf action to all concerned iu its prepa
ration. After several life-long quarrels
and snch comments as "I don't care I"
" You're just as mean as dirt !" " Well,
it wasn't my fault, anyway I" they made
a frugal repast of dismembered turkey,
cold water, pickles and sponge cake, and
then decided to amuse themselves as
befit they could for the remainder of the
day. One girl undertook to fish, and,
having put on her gloves, introduced a
hook to her worm, but the fierce animal
gave a squirm, and with a terrific yell
she dropped the wild beast right down
the back of a friend and young compan
ion, who was sitting beneath, who went
into active hysterics, and the author of
the tragedy impaled her thumb on the
fishhook, and fainted at the sight of
blood. After this one of the girls
stepped into a swamp about half way up
to her ears, and another got a beetle
into her ear, and a third unearthed a
horrid snake seven inches long, and
while a devoted member of the excur
sion was stooping down to eolleet a
ppecimeu of that rare and valuable plaut,
the sorrel, Mr. Kehoe's merino ram
stole upon her and butted
fence, irretrievably ruining a $7 thingto
make her dress puff out behind. Then
they went home to find out wh&a wm
good for sunburns.
1870.
They Wonld Wed.
One of the most curions marriaces
though neither a la mode nor pi the
heart has just tnken place at Bercy, in
France. Maillard and Vrignault were
two pretty fellows who had been sooun
(ireis irom boyhood, and at a compara
tively early age were sentenced to trans
portation to Cayenne for life. Their
patriotism was not so excessive that the
thought of leaving their coimtry should
break their hearts ; bnt what they did
regret was that they were henceforth to
be separated "from the objects of their
affectionp, Mademoiselles Eugenie Piat
and Hort-enne Conrturier. The sorrow
was reciprocated by tho two young
ladies, who actually consented to be in
formed against by their lovers, in whose
crimes they had shared, and ou being
brought to justice confessed their mis
deeds with the utmost coolness. Their
object was to bo sent to the same desti
nation an the two gentlemen, with
whom, once arrived at Cayenne, they
would, be permitted to reside In the
meantime there was a ceremony to be
porformed for which up to this time
they had not had the leisure or the in
clinntion. They had to be married.
This permission was not, of course,
granted by the authorities out of mere
good-will ; the betrayal of son.e twenty
of their associates in crime was the price
of their bliss to Messrs. Maillard and
Vrignault, and they did not hesitate to
pay it. As soon as their brother scoun
drels were secured, four cabs left the
prison for the Mairie, containing tho
brides and bridegrooms all separated,
however, and all well cuarded. It is
necessary that all civil marriages shall
take place at perfect liberty, so the hand
cuffs were dispensed with, but eight
policemen were the witnesses of tbe
touching ceremony. The happy pairs
were again separated at the door of the
Mairie, not to meetagain till at Cayenne,
where thoy will be reunited, let us hope,
"for good," to live happily, or at least
honestly, ever afterward ; only that they
may have some unwelcome visitors dur
ing their honeymoon if their betrayed
associates are also "recommended" to
try Cayenne.
A Good Painkiller.
Faith llochester writes very pertinent
ly in the American Agriculturist eboul
the folly of taking so many patent pre
scriptions for common complaints.
Working people cannot lie by on ao
connt of illness if they have strength to
crawl about, and so they think they
must " bike something." Thero is a
good deal in a name, and when peoplo
ore in much pain, of course they want a
"painkiller!" Outside or inside, no
matifcr kill the pain at once. So they
seem to think, and in ignorance take
anything which recommends itself as
able to relieve their sufferings. When
our 'ittlo girl pulled a heavy piece of
irou from the table upou her foot,
crushing it so that we thought she would
be unable to use it for a long time, her
suffering was extreme.
" We ought to have some ' painkill
er ' in tho house 1" exclaimed a member
of the family, who was as ignorant of
the component parts and especial powers
of that medicine as I am myself.
" What for ?" I asked, aud he re
plied : " The child never can bear such
pain long. It is horrible."
But we sot to work with cold water,
pouring it constantly upon the bruised
part for about an hour. Belief begun
immediately, and the child was unwill
ing to have any cessation of the bath
until the pain wa". all pone. It seemed
almost a miracle to see that little cirl
running about on both feet in less than
two hours after the accident, and never
afterward to hear another word of com
plaint about the badly bruised foot, Nor
was there ever afterward any hint in
our house of the need of a " painkiller "
or other patent medicine. Vigorous
rubbing is often better than water to re
lieve pain.
A Woman's Freak.
The peoplo of Hamlin, N. Y.. have
been saddened and shocked by a recent
occurrence. Mrs. Charles liaudall quiet
ly informed her husband that during the
period of twelve or thirteen years in
which they had boen married she had
not been to him what a wife should be.
and she had made up her mind to leave
that part of the country. She had given
the matter much thought, and decided
it was, from all considerations, best that
she should go away and leave him and
her three little ones to live in pence
ana happiness. This information was
of course a thunderbolt to the afflicted
husband. The wife calmly prepared
breakfast, left the moraine's work un
finished, packed her trunk, kissed her
children and departed, the hired niau
accompanying her to Brockport, where
she took the four p. m. train for nobody
knows where. Thus has a happy home
been rendered desolate, a kind and too
indulgent husband left in sorrow and
anguish of spirit, and three bright little
ones deprived of the ministering care of
a mother.
Shrewd Trick of a Newsboy.
Persons who are in the habit of pass
ing in the neighborhood of the post
ofliee, in Portland, Me., in the evening,
cannot help noticing a little newsdealer
who is always crying bitterly for some
one to buy his last paper that he may
go home. Of course he finds a number
of sympathizing persons who buy the
paper aud bid the little fellow go to his
mother. As soon, however, as the pur
chaser is ont of sicht the litt'e chao pro
cures another paper and goes through
the same performance. Sometimes, as
on Monday night, the police find him at
his post until near midmeht. and are
obliged to send him home. He prob
ably sells twice as many papers as any
other boy in the city.
A New Locomotive. A locomotive
without furnace has commenced running
in Paris on one of the tramways. It has
a reservoir of superheated water which
furnishes a constant supply of steam for
moving the vehicle. Ou another line of
tramway an ordinary steam locomotive
is at work. It is like a small omnibus in
shape and size, containing a boiler. The
furnace is out of sight and fed with coke
and charcoal. The draught of the fur
nace is kept up by a supply . of com
pressed air. 1
NO. 24.
THE GREAT PEST.
The Celornrfo Reel In In a New DrliL-How
tlie lln(s Work Iu New Vol U nnd lirook
Ijn. The potato bug cannot be ignored.
They are having jolly times at Rocka
way, at Canarsie and in the City of
Churches. At Rockaway the beach is
alive with the bugs, and bathers who
enter the breakers find themselves sur
rounded by the half dead, half lively
insects, who float in and float out, until
some enterprising wave sends them far
up on the sand. Then, under tho re
viving influence of tho sun, they re
cover consciousness, and march off
quickly toward the hotels, the green
fields and the gardens. No one seems
to know where they come from. But it
is very evident where they are coiner.
The potato fields at Canarsie, and of all
the region rouudabont, are denuded of
every leaf, and the vegetable itself is
utterly destroyed. In that vicinity egg
plant is largely cultivated. For this
delicious viand the bug manifests marked
partiality, and all the patches in which
that plant is grown are devastated and
ruined. The streets of Brooklyn are
alive with them. They crawl upon the
pavements, enter at tho windows, creep
upon the walls, aud nestle iu the beds.
It does no good to sweep them out, for
they rally iu force and return. It is un
pleasant to mash them on tho carpet. It
is impossible to drive them off.
The great social problem is " How
shall we get rid of the potato bugs ?"
A reporter of a comic paper called ou
farmer White, of Bergen county, N. J.,
and told him he wanted " material for a
funny article on the potato bug."
Brother White regarded the reporter
intently for a moment, then leading him
to a window, pointod impressively to a
desolated tomato field, burst into toars,
and left him without a word. These
bugs are no longer an entertainment.
They are a great public nuisance, under
everybody's feet uud in everybody's
mouth. They come from the West in
swarms. They fly, they hop, they run,
they float, they jump. They travel on
boats, in car.-, by wagons. Various
theories are advanced about the myriads
that come by water. Some assert that
overcome by long flights across the
water they fall exhausted on the sur
face. Others argue that instinct leads
them to the water, on which they trust
themselves in full expectation of a bliss
ful entrepot beyond the sea. But how
over men may differ on that point, they
absolutely agree on the fact of the
abiding presence of the monster pests.
An ingenious farmer of New Jersey has
invented an instrumentality of relief, so
far as potato fields and tomato pat&hes
are concerned. It consists of a large tin
pot, looking not unlike an oyster stew
pan, the bottom of which is made of
gauze wire. This pot ho fills with a
mixture of paris greeu and plaster, in
parts of one to twenty. This, by the
aid of a long handle attached to the pot,
he sprinkles on the leaves if the plants,
tho bugs innocently partake thereof, and
incontinently die. He charges nothing
for the information, and guarantees tho
cure. Other farmers act differently.
They carefully pick the bugs from the
leaves and scoop them ou shovels and
carry them iu barrels to tho seashore,
where they dump them on an outgoing
tide. This is rather a boomerang ar
rangement, however, for while a few
thousauds may be drowned, tho great
multitude return, and when thrown
upon the sandy beach, and exposed to
tho inspiring heat of the sun, propaga
tion is accelerated, and what was bad
before becomes worse and worse ir
deed. An enterprising keeper of bath
ing houses near Rockaway dug a large
hole, a kind of pit, in which, ou the
ashes of a large tire, he shovels bushels
of the bugs, aud covers them with
earth. New York iSun.
A Great Swimming Feat.
Tho London c10 ays that a Miss
Beckwith succeeded in swimming from
the Old Bridge ut Chelsea to Greenwich
pier. Large crowds had gathered to see
the start, and when, a few minutes after
three, sho leaped from a waterman's boat
into the river, she wa3 loudly cheered.
There was a fair breeze, which made ihe
water rather lumpy, but the force of the
ebb tide was all iu her favor. With a
gentle breast stroko the young swimmer
proceeded on her arduous feat. A pilot
in a small boat, in which were her father
and brother, the latter ready to jump to
the aid of his sister in the event of any
emergency, led the way. Sho swam close
to its stern, and kept that position more
or les3 during tho whole of her task.
Vauxhall bridge was reached in thirty
four miuutes. In seventy minutes Miss
Beckwith had reached Black friars bridge,
and from this point to the end of the
course spectators appeared ou masts,
crowded wharf windows, and occupied
every available position. So far the
young swimmer had displayed not the
least fatiguo. She proceeded with the
ease of a skilled swimmer, while the dis
tance had not impaired the remarkable
grace of her style. London bridge was
passed iu one hour and twenty-two min
utes. The boats after this became more
unruly than ever, and on several occa
sions Miss Beckwith was nearly struck
ou the head with their bows. Opposite
Oreenwich pier Miss Beckwith, at 5:55,
was taken on board the Volunteer, hav
ing swum the ten miles in two hours and
fortv-six minutes. During the time she
was in the water she declined all offers
of refreshment, and when she appeared
on board the steamboat she was appar
ently as fresh and sprightly as wheu she
first came out of her cabin at Chelsea.
Sitting Bull.
The New York Herald says: The pre
vious umors of tho death of Sitting
Bull in the attack upon General Custer
are in a measure oonfirmed, bnt we still
regard it as exceedingly doubtful that
he is dead. It is not easy to identify a
dead savage by means of descriptions
and comparisons, and it seems too much
to expect this Sioux warrior to havo met
the fate of Custer and his companions.
Still, it may be true, and if it is, the
mere fact will do much to destroy the
prestige of the fatal battlo from which
buoh evil consequences were feared.
- A small man dismissed from office wb
a little put out. - -