'■■•vr'^rr^l - ' ,;" -- i “ •--^-.■~r°i — t .^._-- irtt ... fr -. v^.>:j ...^.. , j: ,„! ,i rr> , r -, yi i,_ , LrjlL - n . < . iiT[rtiy:i _
Publication. * . 1 *
'■TT-rTH’ A fITT A T AT?
• Aul l Al Uil
r remittance be received. By this ar- rr ~-" ——■■ 1 ----- —■-- —— '
no man can be brought in debt to tho ,
. i
4TOB jb the Official Paper of the County*
*c and steadily increasing circulation reach-
I^J 1 wr * r 7 neighborhood in the County. . It is seat
C t tJ9t to any Post Office -irithin the connty
t:>* i ■*. w bnso most convenient post office may be
Cooney
gji-- card®, not exceeding 5 lines* paper inclu-
- ■
RfiKESS DIRECTORY.
hL LO vrKE#«.s. F/misox,
4 COtTNSEIXORS AT liAW, will
* ~I‘d the Coart of Tioga, Pottor and McKean
pYeßs^ ol-0 *! 1853.}
Bp" s b B B OOHS, «
COUNSELLOR AT LAW
T-LKLAXD. TIOGA CO. PA.
gp thc j-ukitufie of Counselors there is safety.”—.KM*. *
H * !^'pu ' «. ‘ «•' webS ~
K . vpr (Tone’s Law Office, first door below
k : Ap ’« HotelJ Rights he will bo found at his
»’l/ tarr v door above iho bridge on Main Street,
I i f J 'rissr.>u.elD.ckinsonV :
I C. RI>VUTT, »extist,
E - XyyiCE at his residence near the
P SdgggLl I Academy. .All work pertaining to
t of business done promptly and'
! ‘ , [April 22, 1858.]
; k =—
HOliSfl
N. T.
: 4, Proprietor.
■ ' ; 3 ken to and from the Depot free of ehttge.
;> p'jg R JSUf A* IA MOUSE
5 1 IVKLLSBOBO’, PA.
\ I, 0. tavlor, proprietor.
I- „ . teti-reJlv popular house is centrally located, and
I P-tjJa u-cir to the patronage ol the travelling public.
H ‘j L "' a- wa i.'
AMERICAS HOTEL
COKNIXG, N.T.,
E FKEEM6N, - - - - Proprietor.
: »j c t< Lodgings. 25 ots. Board, V 5 ots. per day.
fOTi» S , March 31. 1859. (ly.)_
ft
J. C. WHITTAKER,
Hydropathic Phyeician and Surgeon.
EhKLASD, TIOGA CO., PESKA
„ jrjjinsit patients in all parts of the County, or re'
P ~t t iietn fur treatment at his house. [June 14,]
I = ;
«. O. COLE,
URRCK JLXD BAIR-DRBSSBR.
SHOP in the rear of the Post Office. Everything in
li,.- lice will be done as well and promptly as it
Bijole’ime in the eity saloons. Preparations for ro
landrail, and heautifying the hair, for sale
Jjj,' ° Hair and whiskers dyed any color.- Call and
~ vleUaboro, Sept. 22, ISO 9
f ~
GAIffES HOTEt.
EC. YEKiriLYEA, PROPRIETOR .
Gaines. Tioga County, Pa.
Tips n fii inmwu hotel is located within easy access
V thobest fidiing and hunting grounds in North'rn
V Xe pains nill be 6 P ,ire<i for tlie accommodation
•'pleasure seekers and the traveling public.
April It. ISu9.
THE COBIVIHG JOURSAL.
EecrjCiW. Pratt, Editor and Proprietor.
published at Corning, Steuben Co., N. Y.. at One
I Dollar and Fifty Cents per year, in advance. Ihe
.ra.il is Republican in politics, and has a circnia
■ I leaching into every part of Stouben County.—
desirous of extending their business into that
ri ibe adjoining counties will find it an excellent ad
nrumg medium. Address ns above.
D HESS OTAKISO.
i rj« M, A. JOBSSOX, respectfully announces to
11 ihecitizens ot 'WeU.Wn and \icinity, that she
a; ukea rooms over Niles & Elliott s Store, where
■■l prepared to execute all orders in the line of
?P.Er5 .MAKING. Having had experience in the
■i!,Dfs=. she feds confident that she can give satisfac
"3 to all who may favor her with their patronage.
Sept. 29, 1539.
JOHN B. SHAKESPEAft,
TAILOR.
HAVING opened his shop in the room over
Wm. Roberts Tin Shop, respectfully informs the
-.aieas of Weilshoro - and vicinity, that he is prepared
kexecute orders in his line of business with prompt*
;;S5 and despatch
Cutting done on short notice.
Wdbboro. Oct. 21, IS5S.—6m __
WATCHES.! WATCHES!
THE Subscriber has got a fine assortment of heavy
■ENGLISH LEVER HUSTER-CASE
©old and Silver Watches,
xjjlch be will sell cheaper than "dirt" on ‘Time,’ i. e.
a mil =cll ‘Time Pieces’on a short (approved) credit.
All kinds of REPAIRING done promptly. If a
hi of work is not done to the satisfacdon of the party
iriering it, no charge will he made.
Past favors appreciated and a continence of patron
ise kindly solicited. ANDIE FOLEY.
tVeUshoro, June 24,1545. _
HOME INDUSTRY.
THE SUBSCRIBER having established a MAR
BLE MANUFACTORY at the village of Tioga,
elite he is prepared to furnish
monuments, Tomb-Stones, &c.,
the best
VERMONT &. IT ATI AN 3IAUBIE
rcs-pectfullv solicit the patronage of this anfl ad
pemg counties.
Having a good stock on hand he is-nowready to-cx
*;ate all orders with neatness, accuracy and dispatch.
Ml work delivered If desired.
JOHN BLAMPIED.
Tioga, Tioga Co.. Pa., Sept. 25, 1859.
W RE* TERBELi,
COKNINO, N. Y.
Wholesale and Retail Dealer, in
DRUGS. And •Jf'silicinee, Lead, Zinc, aud Colored
Print*, Oik, Varnish, Prushes Cnmpheneaud liurniiuj
h'jt Stuff. Snah and Glass, Pure Liquors for
Medicinr, Patent Medicines, Artists Paints and Brushes,
Ptrjumery, /aacy Arricks, Pluvorinuf Extracts, d?c..
ALSO,
—A general assortment of School Books—
Blank. Books, Staple and Fancy
■ Stationary.
Druggists and Country Merchants dealing
■'iacrof the above articles canbfl supplied at a small
on New York prices. fSept. 22, 185/.}
SEW STOVE AND TIN SHOP!
OPPOSITE ROY’S DRUG STORE.
Ifta-c you can buy Stoves, Tin, and Japanned
Tans for one-half the usual prices.
large No. 8 Elevated Oven Cook Stovo and Trim
*np for $15,00.
Ml kinds of
Tiu and Hardware
for Heady Pay.
It Mill pay any one who wants anything In this line
and see our prices before purchasing elsewhere.
Recollect the place—two doors south of Farr’s Ho
t-lor °ppoijie Ro3’’s Drug Store. CALL AND SEE
1859. 1. ___
H. D. DEMING,
tlvl? r " s P € -tfullv announce to the people of Tioga County
fSfV 1 ! 110 * prepared to fill all orders for Apple,
Cil * rr y, Nectarine. Apricot, Evergreen and Deciduous
siQtrUai tree*. Also Ciirrants Kaspberries, Gooseberries,
'' rrtcs Strawberries of all new and approved vari-
HOS ES Consisting of Hybrid, perpctnal and ?ow
aw Roses, Moss, Ronrbon, Noisette, lea,
C * Ioa * aad Climbing Roses.
V loclndlcgMl the finest ne^v»'
fc?str» r-i *■ rinios of Althea, Calycanthns,
Lilacs, Spiraea, Syringias. Viburnums, WJgiliau Ac.
< LO\VRRS-J >a6oTl * oB » Dahlias, Phloxes. Tnlipa,
lits,i c Kwcisaisj Joaqnils, Lil
OrCw.* w H»ut-bol» Strawberry, 4 do*.plants,s6.
GraOias,' Budding or Pruning vrin bo
H.B. PESOS!}, W»Ufboto,P».
53 p hotto to tfce of tfce arts of if rcrOom anU tfct Sprtah of l&ealt&g Btform. •
WHILE THEBE SHALL BE A WEONG UNBIGHTED, AND UNTIL "MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
VOL. VI.
THE PRESENT IS THE GOOD TIME.
i BT w. a. KILLS. '
Xtate the frhiad of discontent
That mark? the age wfrlive in.
That spooks of olden times well spent,
To our forefathers given;
Bom p bids their wealth and competence,
And some their worth are hamming;
While some despise their taste and sense.
And sing “The good time’s coming.”
What though the future may ho great.
Or past were good and pleasant,
We have no share in eitber.state,
Our duty's in the present I
They'll have their wants and trials too;
Their light is not still shining;
And we've enough within our view
* To keep us from repining.
The landscape’s lovely to the eye,
When we from distance view it;
Tet there are faults we may descry
Where'er we ramble through it;
But while the scenes before, hbhind,
.. With beauty are abounding,
WC may be able here to view
I Some charms onr steps surroadieg.
The times we have, with some regret,
To onr seed will be “olden
And they with unborn poets yet,
Will call this a period golden I
Ana they may chant their graceful lays,
Tbcir future bliss up-summing,
Just as we sing of by-gone days.
And long for hotter coming.
Then let such ‘mourning feelings die,
That long for other-ages;
The blessings that we now-enjoy
Will shine on history’s pages;-^
The best philosophy for man, j'
Life'# prf.scnt care enduring, ' *
Is now t 6 do the best be can, ]
Thus futtre bliss securing.
TBS RETURNED CALIFORNIAN.
A TRUE story
“Just twenty years ago this night,” said the
old man to his wife, as she sat dozing in the
corner of a large old-fashioned fire-place, ‘‘just
twenty years ago, my Mena, since Kupert loft
us, determined to seek the means to support us
comfortably in our old age. and to place our
Ella in the position she should occupy, which
she is fitted to adorn, and of which our misfor
tunes have robbed her. But our only sop has
never come back to us ; we are poorer than
ever, with a deeper, deeper sorrow tanklSig
here, (and he laid his withered hand upon lais
heaving breast,) that he has been cut off in Che
bloom of his young manhood—we know not how
or when 1” and the full, round tears rolled heav
ily down his furrowed cheeks, whilst the good
Mena wept and sobbed aloud.- Thus they sat
for a long time, and thus we leave them with
the mournful memory of all he had been and
all he now was to them.
Ella, their only daughter, whs very beautiful.
I mean by that, that she was gentle, intelligent
and graceful; she had always been gay and
happy for she loved nature and her simple
hearted companions, and was too young when
her brother left their rural home, to feel reverses
of fortune, or to suffer, like her sorrow-aged
parents, his loss arid society. The neighbors
talked to her of the promising young Rupert of
former years, extolled over and over again his
amiable temper, his kindness to the aged, the
sick, and the poor of their little village, aud the
old “folk” seemo'd to love him as a son, the
yopng people as a brother, and everybody re
membered his sparkling black eyes, his fine ex
pressive mouth, his lofty though effeminately
white, smooth forehead, and everybody pro
nounced him handsome and good, when, at the
age of sixteen, he left his humble home, deter
mined to revive his father’s fallen fortunes, or
make one less to be provided for from their
scanty stove.
Of course, Ella loved the picture, and often
sighed that it was not real to her.
Rupert Ellsworth’s father, very soon after bis
misfortunes, turned his pretty dwelling into an
inri, bung up a sign with a peculiar device upon
it—a device not to be forgotten by any one who
lived twenty years previously any where within
fifty miles of the city of New York—but I must
not paint it over'again, lest one phrenzied eye
should chance to glance too earnestly over those
pages to engulf the mind and heart in still
deeper and ray only object is to relate,
as nearly as I can recollect, the incidents of a
transaction that was so thrilling and so fearful
in its effects, and which so many of our citizens
rethember is too true*
The old man was not very successful, for he
was as proud and austere as he was ambitious,
and he could not stoop to the mean cajolery and
impertinent obtrusiveness now practiced in our
day to secure the “almighty dollar/’ and the
coneequeece was he remained very pom*. The
day had been stormy, and the heavy black
clouds hung in dense masses dose to the earth,
only here and there a streak of atmos,-
phere which seemed struggling in sullen prid6
to blear them upward ter their native element,
there to dissolve themselves in gentle dew, or
rain, or beautiful white, fleecy flakes of snow,
to be finally—like humanity—embosomed in the
all-receiving silent earth.
But I digress. A horseman broke through
the narrow passage between earth and clouds,
immediately in front of a cottage about two
miles from our incongruous sign ; he was very
tall aud slender, with the most luxuriant beard
and moustache, of rich, brown, expressive hair;
his eyes were clear as stars, his skin of singular
paleness for a man, and with a face altogether
as pleasing and interesting as a young and
beautiful girl’s, though you could not guess his
age, (he might have been twenty-live, or he
might have been forty,) still there was a fire
lurking in his eye, and the spirit of bravery
and manliness written on his brow. You could
imagine that sorrow, and struggle, and contest
had been his lot, though every lineament be
spoke a heart at peace with the whole world*
Our rider seemed to be lost in thought, for his
horse had halted before the door of the cottage,
whose owner was gazing quietly upon him from'
his door steps, wondering, I suppose, who he
was or what he wanted.
Suddenly ho looked up from hie rerery, and
with a slight embarrasment, asked if there was
a public house at hand. “By the way/-' said
he, “is there not a Mr. Ellsworth keeping an
inn somewhere near here ? He had a daugh
ter named Ella, and once,” and he drew a long
breath, “a son Rupert." “You know him, then,
air,” eaid Mr. Clayton, (the man of the cottage,
WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. APRIL 12, 1860:
who was none other than the village pastor,)
“a relative, perhaps ?” pursued he, like a man
thinking aloud, for he had not waited an answer
to his first interrogation. “And now I look at
you more closely, you do resemble the family ;
would you like to see his daughter? Every
one who ever saw her sweet gentle face feels’
an interest in her at once ; she is here, paying
a visit to roy girls," and Mr. Clayton, in his
ardor of friendship for Ella, and his hospitality
toward the intersting stranger, absolutely
dragged the bewildered horseman from his sad
dle, and very unceremoniously into the pres
ence of three lovely girls, who were knitting
and chatting away before a cheerful hickory
fire. Knitting and a hickory fire ! round which
in merry mood are drawn out truthful band of
friends 1 Ob, what glorious opportunity for the
culture of the flowers planted in our youth-time
in the sunny gardens of our hearts, to be green
and bright when the selfish, sordid world has
shut in all the joyousness, the music and the
lights, the love and trust, that once so fully
made up a happy existence—or when relent
less death has driven our fondest affections
back upon the tablet of our memory, a living
.page for the records of eternity.
But while I have been indulging In these
desultory thoughts, the party in the little par
lor are standing in agitation and surprise, the
stranger often glancing at the other two young
ladies, stood for a moment confronting the now
trembling Ella. One beam of joy shot fro'm his
eye as he cried out, “It is my sister 1” and
clasped her in his arms. One, look on his part
and one electric thrill on hers, had been enough
to tell them of the ties of consanguinity which
bound them, and the long separated brother
and sister—even though Ella was a child when
Rupert left home T-knew and loved each other
in an instant. 1
Ella was very happy, and too much absorbed
in her wonderment to ask her, brother a single
question; she was dreaming of her parents*
transports of joy when they should learn their
long-lost son was living, and planning in* her
mind some one more pleasing stratagem than
another by which she could make known to
them his return. Rupert divined her thoughts,
as she sat so silently, and gazing fondly upon
him ; and immediately-after he had ascertained
that his parents were alive and well, ho glanced
at hia'histoy since his departure, reserving for
their own happy fireside the details of his self
sacrifising efforts and exile for twenty years.
Of course, after the first salutations were over,
the whole party at the cottage were acquainted
and familiar, and anxious to hear his story.
Rupert had left bis home with but one change
of apparel, and but one shilling in his pocket;
he had worked his passage out west, and had
travelled from town to town, and village to
village, teaching here aud there, for one year
in one place, and farther on npother year in
another, gaining instruction while he was im
parting it, and thereby procuring the means to
carry him wherever he wished to go. At length,
soon after the discovery of gold at Sutter’s
mill, at Coloma, he reached the great El Dorado,
and by untiring industry in the mines, followed
by a most successful professional practice,
amassed a “pile” sufficient to accomplish his
long-cherished object—the securing a comfort
able competence fur his aged parents and now
grown-up sister. Ever surrounded mjall this
lonely wandering by the holy halo of maternal
teaching and influence, ho had not only avoided
fashionable, vices of the times, “kept the
whiteness of hja soul unstained,” but had im
proved himself in learning, and become a mas
ter of the Spanish, French, and German lan
guages : for, although but sixteen when he left
home, he had been a student at Union College,
(as one of his classmates, \V. W , now re
siding at No. Ciay street, will well remem
ber) and was even then a scholar and a gentle
man; and though there was many a reckless
and passionate boy at the college, there was not
one so mean and selfish as not to feel his enno
bling influence, and acknowledge his high
vtoned, honorable deportment.
For a time he wrote to his parents, regularly, !
hut receiving no answer, he supposed they must
have removed from the £ld homestead, and as
lit was necessary to his high purpose, and to
carry out his plans for their final good, and as
it might interfere with the sacrifices he felt must
be made to train his mind to acquire by his
profession a fortune, he persuaded himself that
they were all well and happy ; and year by
year he struggled on to gain—what? Goldl
with the vain expectation of securing happiness
thereby. But we will not moralize here, for
Rupert’s had been a noble aim, and it now
promised a most happy result.
Old Mr. Ellsworth bad never at any time,
received a line from bis son since he left home;
by some means his letters had been miscarried,
and Mr. and Mrs. Ellsworth believed Rupert to |
be dead, and were still, after twenty long years*;
mourning over his untimely end; they even
found a luxury in their sorrow, whenever they
could indulge in Ella’s absence. They loved
the sweet girl too well to let her be a witness of
their grief; it bad turned inward, and was worn
deeply on their souls. Had Ella known of this,
she would have been very wretched, and I am
quite sure her brother would not have found
her visiting at the good pastor’s cottage; no,
not even the society of her dearest friends could
have won her from the pleasing duty of being
a constant solace and a joy to them.
‘‘Dear brother,” said Ella, “I thought you
were dead, but how I have cherished your
memory and loved the semblance our friends
had drawn, who were older than I when you
left us; hut never, never-dared I hope for this
joyful, happy meeting. I am so happy,” and
she wept upon his bosom. ‘‘lt’s growing late,
Rupert,” she said, dashing the tears from her
face; let us plan a pleasant surprise for onr
parents. lam to spend the night here. I will
remain, and be home early in the morning to
take breakfast with you. Go now, and pretend
yon are a stranger, travelling further eastward;
engage a room for the night, and plead fatigue
for retiring so early to bed, and he' 'sure that
you do hot come down until I come and break
to our parents the happy intelligence that Ru
pert, the long-lamented Rupert, is under their
own roof-tree, never more to leave it again, 0,
I shall see my mother’s eyes beam again with
hope and joy, and my father grow ydnng again
in the society of hie cherished son. Oh, I shall
be so happy 1” And she clasped her little hands
close over her throbbing bosom, ns though sh»
was afraid her happy heart would leap in ecsta
sy from thence.
"Yes, I will, my sister,” and he eaid "my
sister” over again ; the Pame las music in his
ears. “Yes, I will; but first tell me ail about
yourself, my, home, how my, mother bore my
absence, how my father has been situated, and
if my dear little Ella is happy,” and he pressed
her again to his breast, for she was all he had
loved and imagined her—his ideal sister.
“Well, I have lived with ofar parents con
stantly, requiring no greater happiness than to
be a happiness to them. I have seldom or
never been from home, save when my parents
send me to visit our good friends here. We
have no society, no visitors, save a former class
mate of yours;” and Ella paused, for the warm
blood was mantling her cheeks. “Yon remem
ber Clarence Fenton? Ho is always at our
bouse, and my father always worships him,
and 1 do believe it is for nothing else in the
world only because he talks of you, and praises
you half the time he is at our house; while my
father is scarcely civil to any body else. Ido
believe he loves him only because he was your
dear friend,” and again she blushed and hesi
tated.
“Ho, ho 1 roy little Ella, and is that the rea
son you almost worship him too?” and he
gated in her soft violet-colored eyes so fondly
and gently that she became .reassured in a mo
ment, and replied with that ingeniousness so
lovely in a young and truthful girl—
“ Yes, brother, I do believe it is.”
“My blessed sister and friend 1” cried Ru
pert ; “I have at last found a fortune worth pos
sessing—the love and confiding tenderness of a
true-hearted sister I Ella, you shall marry
Clarence, and wo shall all be very happy.—
Why do you look so sad, Ella?”
“Alas, Rupert, Clarence is too poor; he is
ambitious; but, like ourselves, be has been un
fortunate. His father died a bankrupt nearly
ten years ago ; he settled here to practice med
icine, but there is little or no sickness in our
village ; he does not like the profession jt was
his father’s desire be should follow and—and
as it is impossible”—and she raised her eyes
timidly to his kind face, and he saw that they
were brim-full of tears.
Rupert started as though a new idea had
struck him- He went to his horse, lifted thej
heavy saddle-bags from its back, and returned
in a minute to his sister’s side.
‘^lmpossiblel” said he: “behold the means
to make it possible, then,” and he dropped
them with a heavy chink at her feet. “There,
Ella, is fifty thousand dollars in gold—all gold!”
said he, with the generous warmth of his na-
is one portion which shall make
you and my old friend and sobool-feliow, Clar
ence, happy;” and he presented her with a
package containing ten thousand dollars, while
his cheeks were glowing, and Ins eyes flashing,
with love, and pride, anqbhappiness. Just then,
another flashing eye and flushed face appeared
at the window. He saw Rupert kiss Ella, in a
transport of feeling; saw him place around her
neck a miniature of himself, attached to a mas
sive gold chain, and he supposed he was a lover
of Ella’s, and a successful one, too, for he had ;
seen Rupert carry the heavy saddle-bngs in,
and reached the door just in time to hear his
expression. He staggered from the window ;
he had seen enough ; for an instant he seemed
rooted to the spot, then be rushed around to the
back of the bouse into the kitchen, seized a
large carving-knife that was lying on the table,
and pressing the blade to his white Ups, he ut
tered a low, deep moan, as though relieved of
a weight of distress. He then pressed his
white teeth close together, and again rushed
out into the open air. Just at this moment,
Rupert placed his saddle-bags on his horse,
slooped to say some pleasant adieus to Ella—
“ Good night, dear Ella; you will be there
early ?” “Yes, yes I” and he was gone. Like
a wounded wild beast, the man who had looked
in at the window sprang back* darted down a
by 4 path> across a field or two—on, on he,went
towards the inn, and stopped behind a clump
of trees, .crowded densely together. It was
late twilight, and as our horsc'man was absorbed
amid his pleasant thoughts, he did not see the
man’s singular movements, or notice that he
was watched by him.
On came our horseman with a pleasant smile I
lighting up his face, talking low to himself,
seemingly to add to his happiness ; “Yes, yes;
fifty thousand will do ; it will make us all very
comfortable, and I shall resume ray profession
after a few months ot real transports of joy
and gay revel, for I mean to make the old folks
happy, the old house like a palace, and dear,
sweet* gentle Ella shall be the queen of domes l
tic bliss I”
Ob, if he had but said “sister,” “dear* sweet,
gentle sister”—changed only "one word. But
ere the hissing sound of the “s” had died upon
the solemn stillness of evening, Rupert’s head
was nearly severed from his body, and hisflife
less corpse dragged into the thicket, which! was
situated about a mile from the inn.
Clarence buried the body with his own blood
stained hands; and late, very late, in that dark
and horrid place, goaded the poor horse to
madness, and sent him adrift with all save the
gold.
The next morning, the cleat 1 , bright sunlight
had scarcely tinted the tops of the gorgeous
foliage of autumn, when Ella sprang with a
light bound from the door-step, bounded over
the stile by the cottage gate, in such happy
haste that her feet scarcely seemed to touch the
earth over which she glided; the mile seemed
endless—she had never felt such ecatacy before;
and well Clarence, who pas watching for her,
marked the glowing cheek arid bounding step
of the once qaiet„dignificd Ella, and he at
tributed it to a far different cause. These two
people loved each other. But how different the
faces, how different the hearts—one was dark
and troubled, the other like sunshine.' She
had not noticed him before, but just as she laid
her hand upon the door of her own home, he
grasped’ it--she started. “Oh, Clarence, gdod
morning: how is it that you are here so early
this morning? I hope nothing wrong has hap
pened, for 1 am so happy 1 You look sad;
come in, come in, you shall be with, us—you
shall soon see why Ella's heart flutters like a
frightened bird’s.’’ And she, for the first time,
passed her hand lovingly through his arm.
Her parents met her. at the door, glad that
she had. returned, though they could not un
derstand why she came so early, ''
“Well,” said she, after looking anxiously
about the room, “well, father, who had you
■here last night,?” and she smiled.
“No one, my child.”
“Had yon not a man here last night, tall—”
and went on describing Rupert so eloquently,
that her parents gazed in her excited - face, in
silent wonder, trying to cypher out the cause
of all this animation in one usually mild and
quiet. But the eyes of Clarence glared like a
demon when-the old man tnrned to him, shak
ing his hand warmly,
“Why, Ella is wild, I do think. No', no,
my daughter; no traveler was here last night.”
“Not here! not stop here 1” and Ella, sud
denly thinking that they were playing a ruse
off on her, put out both her hands to Clarence,
and turning partly away from her parents, said,
laughing, “Why, that is my brother 1 that is
Rupert 1 Mother, it is—-it is your long-lost
son 1” 5
“Great God I” screamed Clarence, throwing
bis arms and hands upwards. “Great God 2 1
have murdered Rupert Ellsworth, xny Ella’s
brother—my first, best, and kindest friend I”
and he rushed out towards the fatal clump of
trees, followed by the now wretched family,—
When they reached him, he had already, in bis
frenzy, dragged- the body of Rupert to the
light, and was peering into his face. I cannot
picture this dreadful scene, so will hasten: to a
closet
The poor parents reconized
their son at once, for the eye of love is keen ;
Clarence sat weeping like a child over the
corpse of his once beloved friend; and Ella,
who had not spoken sirice she gave that one
low shriek of despair and anguish, stood apart,
gazing with a vacant stare, and with cheeks
paler than her dead brother's, was a hopeless
maniac!
Clarence, after havingjgiven himself up freely
to the hand of justice, contrived to place the
fatal cord around his own neck, and thus avoid
ed the ignominy of a public execution.
The father and mother died broken-hearted.
And Ella, the once gay and lovely Ella,
fined at this very moment ifa the Rloomingdale
Asylum, a maniac fur life.
Oh ! who will not acknowledge that truth is
stranger than fiction ?
; Lumbermen's Camps.
The editor of the Elseworth American , hav
ing recently visited the Maine lumhermqn in
their backwoods camps, gives the following de
scription of their winter habitations:
, “The camps of these hardy and laborious
men are made of logs, and covered with ‘splints,
which are long shingles, made of cedar and,
rived and shaved. These are again covered with
houghs. In the centre of the camp is the fire,
extending half its length, with an open apace
just as large in the roof, for the escape of the
smoke. A modern improvement has been in
troduced—the fire dogs, or andirons. These are
made from three to four feet long, with a font
in the centre, and large enough to hold ajlarge
quantity of wood. They are really a pair of
these indispensable articles welded together,
with one foot in the centre’to strengthen the
double-headed ‘fire-dog.’ One of the luxuries
of camp-life is to sit on the ‘deacon seat’ and
watch the flames as they issue forth from the
hard wood fire, the product of numberless long
and large sticks of wood, big enough for an
old fashioned ‘back log.’ Xhe‘ deacon seats’ arc
sticks of timber, hewn and squared, and placed !
parallel with the fire, and on each side of it for
seats*—Back, of these seats, are the dormitory
apartments, A good foundation is made with
cedar or spruce boughs, on which are spread, as
covering, a number of ‘comforts’made thick
and warm with cotton batting.
One of the curiosities of these habitations, is
the ‘bean oven.’ This is a hole excavated at
one end of the fire, and near the fire-dog, in
which, after being sufficiently well heated with
coals. Is placed -a large iron pot filled with
beans having a sheet iron covering jutting over
the outer rim, covered all over with coals and
hot embers, and left to cook through the night
while the men are sleeping. In the morning
the ‘pot of beans’ is taken from its bed, and
the beans are on the table for breakfast, steam
ing and inviting enough to tempt an epicure.
One of these camps had a dining and cooking
room, in addition to the usual accommodations,
and also a good sized cook stove. There are,
generally, from fifteen to twenty men to each
camp. In all that we visited, quietness, order,
industry, and the best of feeling, existed among
the inmates.
The Religion of Paying Debts. —One of the
religious papers has the following strong re
marks on the subject'. They drive the nail up
:to the head and clinch it:
“Men may sophiscate as they please. They
can never make it right, and all the bankrupt
laws in the universe cannot make it right, for
them not to pay their dedts. There is a sin in
this neglect as clear and deserving of church
discipline as in stealing or false swearing. He
who violates his promise to pay, or withholds
payment of a debt, when it is in bis power to
meet his engagement, ought to be made to feel
that in the sight of all honest men he is a swin
dler. Religion may be a very comfortable
cloak under which to bide ! but if religion does
not make a man deal justly, it is not worth
having,’
Mrs. Partington says she can’t understand
these “ere market -reports.” She can’t under
stand how cheese can be lively, and pork can be
active, and feathers drooping—that is, if it’s
raining ; but how whiskey can be steady, or
hops quiet, or spirits dull, she can’t see; either
bow lard can be firm in warm.weather, nor po
tatoes depressed, nor flour rising—unless there
had been yeast put.in it, and sometimes it would
not rise then.
Laziness travels so slow that poverty scon
overtakes her-,
Advertisements will be charged $1 per square of 19
lines, one or three insertions; And 26 cent# fo# ever* *
subsequent insertion. Advertisement! of lest than 11*,
lines considered &a a square. Thesnbjoined rates will
be charged for Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly ad*
! vertisementiT
Square, -
2 do.
3 do.
£ column, •
k do.
Column, -
Advertisements sot haying the number of Idi&Uoi 4
desired marked upon them, will be published until or
dered oat and charged accordingly.
Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads* Letter-Head* asde 1
kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, ex
ecuted neatly and promptly. Justices’, Constable*’,
and other BLANKS constantly on band.
NO. 37.
lij my native village lived an old man faamed
Beauchamp. He was a Frenchman by birth,'
but had come to America when a child. When
the Mexican war commenced, he enlisted under
our banner, and daring the whole of that brief
but sanguinary struggle fought with the ardor,
andj bravery which cbaractames his race, la
the long winter evenings, I was in the habit of
repairing to his bumble cot, for the purpose of
hearing him narrate the principal events of his
stormy career. On one occasion he related the
fbHowing incident i -
“Ton mast know said he, “that after the
capture of Chepaltepeo, General Soott deter
mined to follow up the advantage thus obtained
,by marching at once upon the Mexican capital.
It was necessary, however, that a portion of
the troops should remain and keep possession
of the captured fortress. The company to
which I belonged was among those selected for
this purpose. This duty, however, we consid
ered a very unpleasant one, inasmuch as wo
were allowed to remain inactive, while our
companions were winning laurels benciuh tbs
walls of the fated city.
“We had taken a great many Mexican pris
oners. So numerous were they that ire hod
scarcely room for them in the garrison . Tho
enemy had placed a mine of powder beneath
the fort, for the purpose of destroying it should
it fall into our possession. When, therefore,
they saw that we were going to carry the placet
they attempted to ignite the mine, but wows
prevented by the prompt arrival of Pillow's
column. The mine was placed beneath a room
in the western wing of the fort. This apart
ment was guarded .by a sentinel, for the pur
pose of preventing any one from entering it.—
No prisoners were confined there, for fear they
might succeed in igniting the mine.
"That afternoon, about an hour after the
department of the others, I heard a strange
noise, which seemed to proceed from the direc
tion of the mine. Having mentioned the cir
cumstance to three of my companions, we all
proceeded to the spot to ascertain the cause.—
On oar arrival, a Spectacle met our gn4e that
was truly appalling. Lying at the entrance,
we saw the sentinel, his bosom covered with
wounds. While we were still gazing with hor
ror on the mutilated corps, we heard a noise in
the room. Bursting open the door, we were
about to spring forward, but the spectacle Wo
witnessed rooted us to the spot. The trap-door
above the mine was open, and standing over it,
with a burning torch in his hand, was a Mexi
can. A moment’s inspection served to prove
the fearful fact that he was insane. His eyes
dilated and gleamed with a demoniac light, his
face was pale, and a ghastly smile played
around his mouth. At his feet lay a small
poniard, covered with our comrade's blood.—
After a moment’s hesitation, two of Us started
forward to seize him, while a third started to
alarm the garni son. But before-either of these
objects could be accomplished, the maniic Cried
out, ‘Hold!’ | We involuntarily paused. Hav
ing gazed upon us'for a moment, the Mexican
stooped down and placed the burning torch
within one foot of the powder. You may im
agine what my feelings were when I witnessed
this action. A simultaneous exclamation of
horror burst from us. As tbe Mexican wit
nessed our terror, be laughed wildly, and still
holding the torch in the same position, said;—
‘You Americans, I am going to revenge myself
on you; if of you move or speak, I will
drop this fire on the powder.”'
“After this, his speech became wild and dis
connected. W e had beard enough, however, to
convince us that we were in a critical situation.
Retreat we dare not, for it was evident that the
Mexican would light the mine should we make
the attempt. It would be equally dangerous
for us to remain inactive, for the maniac held
the torch so near the powder, that had the least
spark dropped, we would have been destroyed.
“This apartment was entirely isolated from
the others, and was never visited save by the
sentinels. Our only hope, then, was either to
interest the Mexican until, the arrival of the
other sentinel, or extinguish the torch. I sug
gested the latter to my companions. But how
was this to be accomplished? We had pistols,
but dare not fire, for fear he might drop the
torch into the mine. Our only resort, then,
was to strategy. There was a yonng American
among us named Halseley. He informed ns
that he thought he could succeed in extinguish
ing the torch. Having requested us not to move
from the spot, he prepared to execute his plan.
Our conversation had been maintained in
English, so that the Mexican was unable to
understand us. During the time occupied by
our deliberation, he had stood motionless, look
ing upon us in a semi-triumphant manner.—
Halseley had a small flask of brandy suspended
from his belt. This bo drew forth, and having
taken a draught, asked the Mexican to join him.
The latter wistfully glanced at it, and hesita
ted. -We now thought we discovered our com
rade's plan, and awaited with intense anxiety
the result. At length the maniac nodded an
affirmative. Halseley walked slowly up to tha
spot in a confident and friendly manner.
"When he had approached within a yard of
him, he paused for a moment, as though un
willing to advance farther without his permis
sion ; the Mexican did not seem to suspect him,
but when Halseley again stepped forward, he
apparently began to doubt, and glanced fiercely
upon him; but he, assumed a look so innocent
as to quiet his' incipient feary. The maniac
extented his hand for the flask. Halseley han
ded it to him, at the same time firmly fixing
the cork in tbo bot tle. Tbe Mexican could have
opened it, however, by using both hands, hot
he was too wary to relinquish the torch, and
finding he could not otherwise withdraw it, ha
handed it to Halseley, saying, ‘Open !’ Daring
nil this time, he still held the torch in the same
.position. As soon as Halseley had received tbs
flask, and when he had nearly withdrawn the
stopper, he suddenly exclaimed in Spanish,
‘Lyk quick at your torch T The maniac tamed,
but no sooner was his head averted, than
Halseley opened the flask like lightning, and
enipted its entire content* on tha torch. The
maniac saw the flame flicker, bnt with a demo
-1 niacal laugh ho dr- ppsd the torch. It fall upon
Rates of Advertising.
J itostss. t iftnrrßs. 1J *wtw#
$3,00 . s<,so $O,OO
5,00 0,50 0,00
*,OO - 8,50 10,00
~ - - O,i»V lUjV
-8.00 9,50 ’ 12,50
16.00 20,80 ; SO,OO
■<* 25,00 85,00 M,O(
The Powder Mine*
BT W4NDSBXB*