EilllEl Mil MWIIwW www sm &. fat If .' i i M B. F. SCHWEIER, TEE OOISTirunOI THE TJ3TI0S AID THE EJTOBOIMEST OP THE LAWS. Editor and Proprietor. VOL. XXXVIII. MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. SEPTEMBER 3, 1SS4. NO. 36. A KISISG TIDE. The west wind clears the moruing, The sea shines silver-gray ; The ninht was long, but fresh and strong, Atakrs the breezy day ; Like smoke that Hies across the lift, The clouds are faint and thin ; And near and far, along the bar, The tide conies creeping in. The dream of midnight showed ma A life of loneliness. A stony shore that knew no mora The bright wave's soft caress ; Tli" morunm broke, the visions fled Willi dawn new hopes bein; The licht is sweet, and at my feet ' lie tide comes rolling in. Over the bare, black boulders The oi'ean i v- an 1 swells : Uh, waiers wide, ye come to hido liuli srones and empty shells; 1 hear the floods lift up their voica With loud, triumphant din ; Sad dreams ilepart rest, doubt ng heart, The tide comes fnauiiuj: iu ! I Olt THE LUVE OF UEK. She was radiantly beautiful, aud she knew lier jower so well I Throughout all the Irish county where she lived there was uot a woman, no matter what her rank might tie, so admired and courted as lovely, mocking, bewitching Ada Gascoyne. Only four years before, her father, a retired naval olficer, had come to reside in the earnsoii-town of Oldfairs ; in the following summer be had lieeu joined by Ada, then just eighteen, fresh from a i'ari-'.an Isjarding-tichooi. where sh had pa--.-e.i, said, the greater part of ber previous life. It was a balmy June morning, and be-for- eniinr i-i to join ber faJier at breakfast, Ada lingeied in the garden to gather a rose or two for the little vase that always stood by bis plate. Fa ther and daughter were full of pretty little coaxing ways to each other ; and she came up the steps of the unmataie terrace now, in her white moruing-dress with its pink ribbons, humming a gay tune, and looking as bright aud win some as if about to eu'jtr the presence of a lovtr. "Papa," she said through the open window, wiihout raisiug ber head from the i!jers, "1 hope you don't forget all the engagements we have for this week. '1 Ids is only Monday, you know, and to-day we are to go to the garden party at Mr John Towuley's ; ionior 4 row ni;ht there is to be a dance at the barracks ; and on Wednesday there is the live-o'clock tea-festival which you hate so much at Mrs. Doouer's. l'apa, are you listening r'' M;e had r.aeu from herfiower-galher-ing, and, even as she spoke, entered through the own glass door. A cry broke involuntarily from her lips, and the Res and niiguonette fell unheeded to the ground. Captain Gascoyue was lying back m his arm-chair, with closed eves and a death-like pallor over bis face. One hand was stretched out be fore him n the breakfast-table, as if unconsciously, the long thin fingers grasping an open letter. Yes, there it lay the latai sheet of note paper that contained iu its few lines so much of terrible sickening interest- Ithad never been intended to mec-t her eyes ; but, in her consternation at liudiiig ber father thus, siie bail approached close to his chax, and be, in bis temporary faiut ness. never heard ber. lie had fcpt the si cret so long and so carefully from bis darling, knowing but too well how it would crash ber ; and tLere, iu an unguarded moment, it was ail revealed to her how cruelly I The handwriting was so large, so painfully distinct, she could not mistake a sylla ble ora sentence ; they burnt themselves Into her brain, and never iu all her after Lie could she forget them.- "ily darling child I" and the old man sprang to his feet. "l'apa, it is not true ! It cannot be true I"' she cried, in tones of bitter en treaiy, so d fferent from the merry ac cents of a few minutes before, "Say it is all a lie 1 My mother alive until a few years ago, and that I" and she pointed with a shudder to the letter, wli'Ch he stlil held. "ily poor Ada 1" lie felt lie could have undergone any thing rather than see ber with such a look of hopeless misery and sham. For twenty years be had borne his uisgiace alone aye, aud ber share of it too. A breath of it be bad never meant to touch her. lie bad registered a vow to that effect on the dark day, so long gone by, when be tirst learned bis wife's guilt. "We can bear it together, papa," she whispered. "Tell it all to me to-day now and then let us never speak of it afterwards, even to each other, f "Yes, as you know something, it is best you should bear it alL But this chaplain's letter was not the only one this morning. There was another where U it V It was from young Town ley. Ah, my dailing, there is much brightness for you in life, in spite of this, I hcjie." "This letter I iutendel giving you to .ead after you had had yourbreakfast," said Captain Gascoyne, with a melan choly effort at playfulness, "as I could not answer it without consulting you and hearing what reply I was to give." ilut s:.e pushed the proffered note from her With a shudder, and bid ber face against his shoulder, ller lover, ber high-born honorable lover, heir to one of the oldest baronetcies in the uth of Ireland, so proud, so sought after, whose attentions to Captain Gas coyne's daughter had already provoked much disfavor in bis own aristocratic "set." whose haughty mother had only lately deigned to smile and accept ber son's choice. "i will not read it now," she said. "Any time before post-time will do, 1 Hupiose if" 'lie begs us both to give him bis an swer this afternoon at the garden-pa: ty; so you must decide soon, my child. Vua do not appear much surprised, or very curious as to the subject he writes about. 'Well, to say the truth, it was no sur prise to me either only what I expect d 5 and, if I have to part with my pet, I am glad it will be to a man who loves ber and who is1 so honorable aud re sected at Reginald Townley." "l'apa, please don't !" She put up her hand as it to stop him, with a half suppressed sob. "l'ou forget what a change this this news must make ; and he must be told. I will never marry anv id. i. I. .. t.. v. i ,...i,.n i, . vut, UUIUS) liQ U1UH AIL, UC anxious- as ever that 1 should marry him in spite of it." "Then, my darling, have I done you a wrong by not letting you know the truth always, by allowing you to hold bi!se position ? But 1 did it for the t ; and 8he wished it too, your poor fool sh mother. Yot must learn to think ot her forgivingly, now you know ' hel oiji "Hush! Dont speak of her yet I I cannot forgive ber yet I I will try to do so by-aud-by." With an air ot sudden pride she rose from her kneeling posture and walked to her usual seat at the head of the ta ble. She poured out her father's cof fee and bi ought it round to him, and put ber lips fondly to his forehead. "Come, iapa, you must take your breakfast while it is hot. If you don't make baste, you know, everything will grow cold, and iheu cook wdl be so cross, and give warning, as she did the last time you forgot to eat ber cut lets. He gtzed at ber in wonder, but made no remark ; aud she coaxed him to eat and drink as usual. But her own breakfast lay untasted, and no morsel of the roll she crumbled on her plate found its way to her mouth. The dreary breakfast liuished, and her father gone to the stable to smoke his customary cigar in compauy with his horse, A da hurried to her own room, aud there alone she at last gave way to the anguish that was burning witain her. She baa locked her door, and no human eye could see ber, and she wept and sobbed to her he-art's content. "No man shall ever marry me with out knowing everything," she said at last, as she drew her lithe figure up to its fullest height and paced the narrow limits of ber little room. The first knowledge of her mother's disgrace was crushing ; but of her mo ther personally she had no recollection whatever, having been separated from her when still an infant ; so ber spirits quickly rebounded from the shock, and she was almost like her ordinary self as she followed Capiaiu Gascoyne into the drawing room, and, having carefully closed the door, sat down by bis side, ami desired, almost peremptorily, to be told the history of her mother's sin. '"Keep back nothing tell me every thing !" she requested ; aud he obeyed. Nowhere throughout all her Majesty's fair dominions did the June sun shine up:m a lovelier scene and more festive gathering than that at Townley llalL Sir John and .Lady Townley's guests were supposed to assemble at the garden-party at four o'clock ; but it was quite an hour after that when Captain Gascoyne and his daughter were an nounced. She was very pale on this day, and her smile, as she received Lady Townley's reproof for her tardy appearance, was slightly tremulous. But she recovered herself in a second, and passed on with a lijjht word of apology. She did not like Lady Townley, and she resented her ladyship's efforts at "sweet conde scension', even more than her occasional displays of chilling hauteur. The windows of both drawing-rooms opened on to the lawn, where the band wts playing aud the fashionable crowd wandered to and fro, or joined in arch ery, tennis, or croquet as they pleased. When Captaiu Gascoyne aad Ada step ped forth on the velvety sward, many catne forward to greet the beauty, who was also regarded by all as the future Lady Townley, for the young heir's at tentions had been very in irked of late. But, after a while, each fell away with meaning smiles many of them and Reginald at last found himself alone by her side. They paced the length of the terrace once, but Kegiuald resisted her desire to stay longer amid the crowd. "Have you uo pity ?" he murmured tenderly. ''Do you foiget that I am not answered yet that I am undergo ing the tortures of susiense all this tinier" "My answer, Ada ! Will you not let me have it ?" he pleaded softly. It occurred to her dreamily, from his face and iuanuer, that he entertained but little fear as to what that answer would be. "My dearest, are you ill ?" he cried, alarmed out of all propriety. "My father proposed writing a reply to your letter," she began very f tintly, and yet trying bard to appear as uncon cerned as usual; "but I preferred speak ing all that must be said and aud per sonally thanKing you for your nattering offer. Is not that the correct thing to say " she asked, with something of her old manner, while a rich color came into her cheeks ; but the playful smile vanished again in a moment, and she continued with the same evident pain as before, "Certain family circumstances came to my knowledge only this morn ing. It is only right you should hear them at once, as they may make a change in your w ishes in fact, prevent anvthiug more between us " "Ada, what can you mean ? There is nothing you could tell me which could alter my wishes or change my love," he answered warmly; yet al ready the troubled expression of her face was being reflected in his. "It is something which is net my fault, of which I never heard, as I told you, until a few hours ago," she went on more eagerly. "It is about my mother 1" Again she paused, still standing at a slight distance, opposite to him, her face quite colorless again, while her large clear eyes were fixed almost im ploriugly upon htm. "I thought my mother had died when I was'a baby I never remember seeing her; she was never mentioned to me. As far back as I can recollect I lived in France with a lady who afterwards took me to Paris and educated me with some other pupiis. My father came often to see me ; but he never spoke of my mother, and I suppose I never asked about tier. I was very fond of the lady I lived with, and she quite filled a mother's place to me. I was perfectly ignorant of the fate of my real mother until to-day." "She has been dead for some years, but not for so long as I believed. She was a convict I" "A what, Ada?" "Listen to me! Don't touch me, please, or say anything until I have told you all the worst is over;" and the girl smiled a piteous woe-begone smile like the ghost of her former brightness. "You know what she was ; I must now tell you how that came to pass. Papa, of course, as you are aware, was an of ficer in the navy, lie was almost always away ou foreign voyages ; his wife was of necessity left at home. She was young, beautiful, and foolish. Papa was uot rich then, even as rich as he is now; his brother, who left him his projierty, was alive, and papa could not afford to allow his wife much ; but still he allowed ber enough, as he thought She, alone at home, had false wicked friends round her, who urged her to ex travagance of every description. She obtained beautiful dresses and other things from London, always through these vile acquaintances, - who called themselves ber friends. She was deeply in debt, and she sold them again, sold the silks and laces and jewels do you understand ? that she bad got upon credit from London houses, ilj father was absent from England for two years. She was living iu Southsea, joining in all the fashionable amusements of the place. The worst came at last she forged my uncle's name. My father returned home, to find me. a poor little neglected child of two years, living with my nurse, who supported me as well as she could out of her own scanty earn ings, and his wife in MiUbank Trisou, a convict for lire- She died there a few years ago, . I saw to-day the letter from the chaplain who had attended r, referring to it all, and to her dis graceful eud. And now you know all!" She had hurried in broken sentences through her narration, but, in her con scientious desire to conceal nothing,had given each painful fact without any at tempt at excuse or prevarication. When she ceased speaking, she still stood as she had doue all the while, her head a little more erect than usual, her hands cl sped. and her eyes fixed upon his countenance, as if she could read bis very soul. She saw the start of horror, the involuntary movement of revulsion, as she pioceeded with ber story, and al ready she read her fate. The future Sir Ueginald Townley might condescend to marry Captaiu Gcoyne's beautiful child, but not the daughter of a convict in ther I The tale would surely leak out at some time, aud the disgrace would fall, if not upon his own head and Ada s, yet to a certainty upon their children. Her rare and bewitching loveliness, which bad first won his fancy and led him to propose for her in opposition to the wishes and ambition of his family, even this seemed to fade away and grow less beneatn his stern and horrified gaze. As be continued silent, with averted face, she summoned all her little remain ing strength, poor girl aud it was so little I "Mr. Townley." she said and her voice, with a ring of pathos in it, had never sounded more sweetly "it was but just and right that you should hear all I have told you. You need now, I see, no further answer to your letter ; and I am willing" how her voice trem bled, though she continued bravely I that we should both forget that that letter was ever written. And now will you please take me to my father ?" Mie grew so deadly white that he thought she was going to faint, and would have flung his arm round her to support her. But she saw what his in tention was. and, without a word more, proudly turned aud walked back stead ily along the path they hail come. But, ail unknown to Reginald and Miss Gascoyne, there bad been an un seen and unsuspected listener to their conversation. On the other side of the thick double row of lime-trees that lined the broad walk, and the fragrant foliage of which descended to the very ground, there was another wide avenue, directly overhanging the river and leading down to the water's edge, with seats at inter vals along it to make the retreat still more attractive. Ou one of these easy benches the great man of the day the Earl of IUveusctiffe had in lazy soli tude been lounging away half the hours of the ftte expressly given in his honor. He was a college-friend of Reginald's, and it was his first visit to Townley UalL Here, after his own fashion, he was enjoying the summer afternoon, stretched at full length in indolent con tentment upon the rustic bench, and taking in with a true artist's pleasure the view of the river flowing smoothly at his feet and the magnificent chain of mountains rising proudly beyond, when Ada's tender, sweet, pathetic, thrilling voice first fell upon his ear. His Im pulse was to rise and go away; but there was some fascination in the clear sweet tones so musical and so sad which chained him to the spot. He could not distinguish the speakers through the leafy screen ; but Townley be recognized at once, and Ada's words betrayed herself. He had never seen her ; but Reginald had been eloquent In his description of her only the night before, as the two men sat together in the smoking-room. And now her true, fearless way of relating her mother s history, notwithstanding the evident pain it cost her, awoke all Uie chivalrous homage of his nature. "What an ass the fellow Is !" he ex claimed, almost aloud, as he heard them walk away ; and a slight opening in the trees revealed for a moment Ada's tall graceful form. "What a mean dishon orable coward I And, by Jove, the girl is the pluckiest and mist truthful I ever met I Most women would never have told what skeleton lay in the cupboard. And he has jilted her, the scoundrel, just because she was honest and con fessed it 1 Why, if the woman I had made np my mind to marry came to me and showed such a love of truth and honor, I should feel only ten times more proud to make her my wife ! But I am glad for ber sake that it's all over between them. Tcwnley was never worthy of her. I felt that on hearing the first word she spoke." A quarter of an hour later Ada was standing by her father, longing for the time to come when she might return home without causing any remark by her too early departure, but meantime making an effort to display at least some languid interest in the tennis game in which she had resisted all invitations to join, when old Sir John Townley ap pro iiched her with a stranger. "Miss Gascoyue, the Earl of Ravens-' cliffe particularly requests to be intro duced to roul" It was a little before the customary breakfast-hour at Townley Hall, and Lord Ravenscliffe was the first of the fashionable guests staying in the house to-make his appearance. Reginald had descended early in order to secure a con fidential chat with his mother, and give her the intelligence that he knew would delight her that the match was broken oft with Miss G 'scoyne. At the same time, he was not quite at ease In his own mind concerning his conduct to Ada. He felt that, when he had ac cepted her refusal given, as he knew so well it was, for his sake and not her own, ce had acted as only a dishonora ble cowardly man would. His better nature had suggested that he should seek ber sweet presence once more and win her pardon, and urge her to change the faltering "'o" of the preceding day into a softer but less faltering "Yes." But what he called his "fam ily pride" and that in reality was only inordinate self-love forbade him to listen to his good angel's whisper, and led him instead to his mother and her triumphant sympathy was very accept able and ssothing. "Any man who had the honor of Miss Gascoyne's acquaintance which. I am happy to say, I was fortunate rn making yesterday must answer as I do, that it is lucky she is disengaged for the sake of some other, who, I hope, will prove worthier of her than your son 1" was Lord Ravenscliffe 's stern answer, as he took bis seat and cast a glance of with-, ering contempt at the young gentleman of the house opposite. "Lord Ravenscliffe I" came i'i much astonishment from Lady Townley, while "Ravenscliffe, what do you mean ?' broke from Reginald, who half rose from his chair, in mingled anger aud surprise. "Excuse me ; it is a rule of mine never to discuss any young lady in pub lic, and especially one for whom I en tertain such warm admiration and re spect," answered bis lordship, with jer haps more warmth in his manner than he hadntended to di-play. Then, turn ing to Lady Townley, he continued more quietly, in his usual tone, "I have been enjoying your beautiful park since five o'clock this morning. The views iu it are exquisite I All 1 had heard of Irish scenery had not led me to expect half its actual charms. You have soui4 good hotels iu Oldfairs, I suppose, have you not, Townley t I am so infatuated with the place that I have made up my mind to stay here for a few weeks." When it became generally known among bis friends and acquaintances that Lord Ravenscliffe the flattered, the admired, and most popular Lord Ravenscliffe was positively determined to give up all bis English engagements aud to bury himself alive, as they ex pressed it, tor an iudeliuite period in au Irish county, this sudden freak of the pel parti of the season proved quite a nins days' wonder in bis owu "set." "He must have fallen iu with some wild Irish girl I" declared the young la dies who had tried so hard and so vainly to wiu the best match iu London during the foregoing season. "Nonsense I Ravenscliffe is no fool I" those of his own sex averred. "It's some fishing caprice be has taken up ; he'll soon tire of it." But, whatever the "caprice" was that held him captive in Ireland, Lord Ravenscliffe did not tire of it. His servauts, by his orders, engaged the best rooms for him that the best hotel could offer in Oldfairs ; and here the Earl took up his residence, to the min gled surprise aud annoyance of Lady Townley and her son, and to the unmit igated delight and curiosity of the in habitants of the town itself and of every one, "gentle and simple," within a ra dius of ten miles. His lordship's horses and grooms, the princely manner in which he returned the entertainments given for him by the garrison and the neighboring gentry, won for him golden opimous. As for the trout-fishing, which, with a comical smile, he had allowed Lady Townley and her friends to believe was his chief object for remaiuining in Ire laud, it was plain that it was angling of an altogether different description that the young nobleman found so at tractive and after a very few weeks not the gossipsof Oldfairs only but Lady Townley aud Reginald discovered this. "It is impossible : he is only amusing himself with a pretty face I" her lady ship at first declared, when Reginald informed her one day that every one had it that Ravenscliffe was iu love with Ada Gascoyne, adding, with much chagrin "There is nothing else talked of wherever I go, and be makes no at tempt to couceal it himself, the officers tell me. Captain Villiars f the 'Bays,' you know, is his cousin ; and be spoke to him about it, aud asked if they were to congratulate him, for at the barracks Ada is uo end of a favorite ; and Ka veuscliffe said be only wished there was occasion for congratulations. Villiars declares he never saw a man s des)er ately iu love. He is alway at the Gas coynes', and be has brought a beautiful thoroughbred over expressly for Ada to ride. 1 met them out yesterday to gether, and, by Jove, he hardly saw me passing, be was so wrapped up in her I And she gave me the coolest little nod imaginable ; but she looked most radi ant. I never saw her look so lovely. Well, if she becomes a Countess, I sup pose she will be very glad sLe did not accept me." "But the difference in our rank is not my only objection. There is another obstacle, one more terrible. I have ouce already told you what it is, Lord Ra venscliffe. Spare me the repetition! You know to what I allude. How could a man in your position contem plate marrying a woman whose name is stained as mine is ? No,;I must not be selfish ; and I have learned so much of the world's pride within these last few weeks I Go away and forget me ! Be lieve me, it is far wiser aud safer to do so." Wiser' and 'safer' to give up the woman I love wbom indeed I loved before I ever saw ber ? I do not under stand that philosophy, Miss Gascoyne, Love me aud marry me that is my prayer and hope. If you order me from your presence now, and tell me in your truthful voice you cannot love me, then I will go but only then. No other reason on earth will ever separate us. It is the only obstacle I bow before. And even then, I warn you, I shall go only to return again and again, to try my fate. Ada, dearest Ada, you won my heart before ever I saw your sweet face ; and every day and hour that I have spent m your company since have but served to strengthen the chains which hold me captive. I am an ob stinate man, I warn you. You are the only woman 1 have ever loved and de sired to make my wife, and, unless you can positively assert that your affections are another's, I shall not relinquish hope." . . "No, no, you must not thmk it is that" and Ada Gascoyne met his gaze fearlessly, tears shining in her bright truthful eyes, while her cheeks flushed brilliantly pink as she continued softly, and with a timidity that was wonder fully bewitching "I do love you, more than any one In the world eveD papa. You overheard my parting with Mr. Tewnley ; and 1 do not deny it was my pride that suffered that day and not my heart. I liked him very much, but that was all , and I never knew how slight and perishable a thing was that Lking until 1 came to know you, and aud io love you I" Lady Townley received an invitaticn to the wedding of the Earl of Ravens cliffe and Miss Gascoyne without ex pressing any wonder ; her bewilderment over "that poor young man's iufatua tion" had well-nigh exhausted itself. But her ladyship still cherishes her an ger against Ada, the more so since she sees that her son's heart such as it is continues true to the Dright beauty whose favor he once won and then lost. Silence is the sanctuary ot prudence. Story f a Cautery. In striking contrast to many new buildings of modern design that are ris ing along North Broad street, Philadel phia, is a modest, slate-roofed house at Broad and Montgomery .avenue. This building stands on a lot which runs back to Fifteenth street along the south wall of Monument Cemetery. The upper windows command an unob structed view of the picturesque city of t he dead The bouse is now deserted. Weeds and wild climbing plants have overrun the little garden iu untrained profusion. About the place there is a general air of desolation and neglect. It is a house with a history. Associated with it is one of the most tragic and ro mantic occurrences that ever startled this quiet Quaker City, for within its walls a murderer, a victim of poignant remorse aud agonized sorrow, passed several wretched years. In the solemn stiUres8 of the night, when the moon glowed and the hosts of marble shafts gleamed ghostly among the trees, a haggard face, with deep-sunken eyes, was often seen peering wildly from one of the little windows off into the weird shadows of the voiceless city. Born in Holden, Lancaster, England, James Wood was a tyie of the many thrifty Englishmen, who, in search of better opportunities, emigrated to this country 00 years ago. He was a hat rougher by trade. Ue applied himself unremittingly to bis work. For two years he lived in Dedham and Boston, and then came to this city. He lived economically, even to self-abnegation, and in a tew years succeeded in bring ing his wife here. She came with a bright little girl of seven years, their daughter, born shortly before the fath er's departure for America. The family took a couple of rooms in a small house in Colladay's Court, in Eighth street, near Race, where they lived for a year, when they moved into a small house next doer to the north east corner of Eighth nd Arch and opened a small confectionery. Wood still worked at hU trade. His wife, in his absence attended the shop. Fortune seemed to favor the struggling English man. He soon leased the lower bar of the Chestnut fctreet Theatre. Three years afterward, to the astonishment of bis friends, he purchased the Randall property ou Chestnut street, near Sixth, for S'J 000, and opened a large candy shop. For six years Wood carried on a very thriving as well as lucrative busi- ness. His daughter, christened Sarah' Ami, grew into a handsome young woman of twenty two. She attracted much' attention. James Wood believed in hard labor, lie always declared that his daughter must make a desir able alliance in marriage. He watched over her with the care and solicitude of a jealously affectionate parent. Sue was educated in a style far beyond ber station in life. Among the many visitors to the candy store was Edward l'eake, a shop keejieroa Sixth street above Chestnut. He was disolute iu bis habits and a hard drinker at times. Nevertheless, by a woman's freak, the pretty young girl fell desperately in love with l'eake. They often met clandestinely, and fi nally were secretly married. The cer emony was performed at daylight, and the young bride stole back to the resi dence of her parents. Her absence from the house was not noticed. Such was the young woman's attachment for l'eake that after being absent from him ten days she left her lather's home and joined" her husband. Wood was absent in New York. He returned aud was apprised of the elopement. At first he was incredulous, but, finally convinced, he raved like a madman. Between tears aud imprecations he called piteously for his daughter. Up to this time Wood had been re markably gentle, loving, and affection ate to his family. He was now a bro ken man. He closed up his place. The headstrong daughter was finally indu ced to resume ber re' idence with her parents, where she lived for several mouths. Peake tirelessly watched the bouse, and finally threatened to secure bis wife through the law. Wood kept bis house guarded, so as to frustrate any attempt to carrying away his daughter. He bought a brace of pistol?, saying that be would defend his home to the death. He was often seen on the street, walking without any apparent object, and even stared vaautly at some of his best friends. Wood finally realized that be must surrender his daughter. She was of age and had married without compulsion. One af ternoon he was unusually thoughtful aud downcast, and occasionally gave way to tears. He saw the young w-ife frequently and upbraided her. That evening he asceuded to his daughter's room. No one ever knew what passed there. Suddenly a pistol shot rang through the house, and when the door of the cham ber was burst open a terrible siectacle presented itself. The young woman lay on the floor, face downward. A pool of blood was forming around her head from a wound from which the brain protruded. The crazed father, who seemed to have awakened to a con sciousness of the enormity of his c rims, stood, as if petrified with horror, a few feet distant. A smoking pistol was clutched in his hand. Ue was quietly disarmed. The bullet, which had de prived him of a daughter, had passed beneath her right eye, going through the head, carrying with it a portion of the skull and brains. Three pistols were found in the room, one discharged and the other two loaded. It was sup posed that the crime was uupremedita ted and that in a moment of frenzied despair he seized one of the weapons and killed his child. The unfortunate young woman lived oidy a few minutes, but long enough to see ber husband. The murdered daughter was buried in Monument Cemetery. The trial of Wood attracted much attention. He was acquitted on the plea of insanity. This, it is said, was the first instance in which an accused was acquitted on this plea in this city. A free man once more, James Wood built himself the little house adjoining the cemetery, on Broad street, where he could be alone with sombre brood jugs. He struggled wltb an ever-accusing conscience. S.irat Ann Wood, or properly Mrs, Peake, was buried on the east side of the ceme'.ery, within easy view of the windows of the little house. The body was subsequently re moved to the West Side, separated by Fifteenth street. A plain marble mon ument marks the spot, inclosed with iron railings. It bears this inscription: "Sacred to the memory of Jane, the dearly beloved wife of James Wood, who departed this life October 8. 1S45, iu the fifty-third year of her age; also their beloved daughter, Sarah Ann Wood, aged twenty-two years." There i3 no date of the death of, the murdered girk At the base of the monument, as if in solemn irony, there : is the following: "While affection mourns me great loss it has sustained, the remembrance of their virtues and the hope of a re union hereafter are the only source of" consolation to the bereft heart. "Wood was a queer old fellow," said the aged grave-digger to a newspaper reporter recently. "He'd come to the grave of his daughter every day and place flowers on it. And I've often seen a tear roll down his cheek and fall on the mound. When the body was moved over this side Wood came here quite as often and used to sit on one of those iron chairs beside the grave, with head bowed upon his breast for hours. Sometimes in the evening as be sat there, shielded from the street by the rose bushes, people passing would point to the monument and say something about that old villain, Wood.' Some times he'd hear them. Then he'd sneak away slyly, looking as if he wished he were dead himself. He went down hill rapidly, and finally sold his house. He's been dead now several years. He is buried right in that plat, with his daughter; but, as you see, there's no inscription on the stone for him none. Nobody ever lived in the bouse long since be left it. It is said that Wood married a second time, but I don't know whether there is any truth in it or not. Oh, Peake? He died in the almshouse and filled a pauper's grave. It is proltable that he really loved the girl, for he drank very bard after her death. Only a few months elapsed until he, too, was placed under the sod. The whole family story is a sad one. There are many people living who can remember bow this terrible crime start led the city at the time. A graveyard Is full of such histories." Th. Destruction by Late Frosts. Frost is a constant menace to the cultivator. He has transplanted his tender plants from the hot-beds; his peach trees have their buds just ready to open ; his grape-vines are pushing their tender shoots, and in one hour the prospects of a season may be ruined. While late frosts do not bring destruc tion every year, they come so frequently that it would seem to be worth while to take all possible precautions to pre vent injury by them. It does not seem to be generally understood that frost is not something that comes to us from a distance, but is, so to speak, caused by the plant itself. As soon as the plant cools to a certain point frost Is deposi ted from the air surrounding it. Of course this is usually first deposited as moisture, which afterward freezes. All attempts to avoid injury by frost must be directed to prevent the plant from cooling. It may encourage those who are disposed to try to shelter their plants, that the protection is required for but a short time and toward morn ing. The plants begin to cool as soon as deprived of the heat of the sun, and continue to lose heat all night; usually they are not cooled down to the danger point until the end ot the night, and in most cases the mischief is done within an hour or two of sunrise. When the night is cloudy frost is not feared. The curtain of clouds prevents the heat passing off into space. In a small gar den it is uot difficult to protect the to matoes and other tender plants. News papers are always at hand and are quite as effective as blankets. The truck farmer will say that .it is impossible to protect bis plants by the acre. We are not so sure of that. In some of the French vineyards vines are protected by the acre, but they are planted and the trellises are built with a view to this. If the means are properly consid ered and the appliances kept in readi ness, it would not be impossible to pro tect melons and tomatoes by the acre. For the orchard and vineyard smoke is the most available protection. It has long been used with success in the vine yards of Germany and should be tested in this country. When a frost is ap prehended, let materials be provided and a watch set, whose duty it should be to call sufficient help to promptly start the smoke. A ready method of raising a smoke is to throw damp straw upon a fire. Probably experiments w ill show that tar, petroleum, or some other such material will afford a more efficient method of making a smoke than straw. A noma BnocEery. There should always be one spot in the home sacred to the best interests of the family. A room full of comfort, where the sofa is made to lounge cn and the chairs to tilt back and the carpet to dig the toes in, where bills aud bicker ing arealike forbidden and the straight laced propriety of the dining room or parlor can be abandoned for romps and story telling; where the firelight has a glow of old-tashioned comfort and the very shadows are tame aud approacha ble; where the dust doesn't show and nothing is too fine to use and at whose door all the burdens drop oft as they will sometime at the gate of heaven a room whose speech is silver and whose silence is golden when the tranquility of a summer Sabbath is broken only by sweet murmurs of love and confidence, where a happy cat curls herself to re pose in blissful affinity with a peaceful house dog, a place where the wicked cease from troubling and weary are at rest. A sort of moral lean-to which ad joins the house beautiful. Here Jacob's ladder is plauted and angels ascending and descending bring with them end less measures of p?ace. Every home should have this one place of retreat. It is no impossible place. Love is the architect; content is its atmosphere. We find it in our friends' homes, often where least ex pected, and are surprised because it Is never a show-place. It is simply "a golden room" in a wooden house. The Rales of Elizabeth Fry. The following rules for the guidanco of life are by the celebrated Mrs. Fry : 1. Never lose any time. I do not think that lost which is spent in amuse ment ox. recreation every day ; but al ways be in the habit of being employed. 2. Never ert the least in truth. 3. Never say an ill thing of a person : when thou canst say a gooa thing of him. Not only speak charitably, but feel so. 4. Never be irritable or unkind to anybody. 5. Never indulge thyself in luxuries that are not necessary. 6. Do all things with consideration. and when thy path to act right is most dim, alone, exert thine own powers as far as they go. ult, put confidence in that Power ' t.aiB tJwurl "ul uiuueiaie j- muw "w urea iuu uj iwu i.ugnsn which is able to assist thee and ' awlances. penetrate me sKin ot any laaies irom rorto iiaunzio, on ui Mint, la Iaulles that Rlda. Ladies who ride much in the country, esiecially in summer weather, will derive comfort from the possession of a gingham habit, or one of very lightest dust colored summer-cloth. Cheap though the material may be it must be tailor-made, otherwise it will not be fit to wear. No amateur manufacture can possibly look well on horseback. Riding trousers come next for men tion. Chamois, if of good quality, is soft, elastic, serviceable, and most pleasant for wear, and side buttons are preferable to an opening in the front. Small, firm, weli-adjusted straps should 1 affixed to the ends of the legs, to prevent the possibility of rucking up j an indescribably uncomfortable sensa tion. These straps may be made of leather, though many prefer elastic, j It matters not which of Uie two is used for ordinary riding, but if the latter it should be quite an inch in breadth, and should have a slit worked in it, ! button-hole fashion, at each end, leav ing a good piece of the stuff beyond the slit, aud by this means be made to fasten to tw buttons, stitched very firmly, one on either side of the hem of the leg on the inside, of course. By adopt-, ing this arrangement the straps can b readily changed a great advantage, for . al-icliA tusin irala K-iim mil ftnil if VOI1 I are a wise and methodical manager you will have a second pair of straps always ready at band, to provide for unexpect- ( ed contingencies. No lady who rides much can possibly do without at leat two pairs of riding trousers a pair for , each habit being, the correct thing. Never wear tizht boots adopt the very plainest fashion and let the soles ... . I 1, i ,.1- 1 .mi urafwr I ,T-.,Ka.cl,.'.v..,a. trousers cut away at the instep and but toned close at the ankle, with a small ' strap to pass under the foot whilst in its stocking; or hav the boots drawn over the trousers a la tnilitaire, so that j you can get into both at the same time. ' If a spur is Required,, select a good one. When hunting, it is an absolutely j necessary adjunct, as likewise when training a young or vicious horse but this is altogether a;art from quiet j everyday exercise, and requires m fact, an entirely dilTeient equipment, of which the spur forms only a part. i Stockings for riding should always, I even in summer, be of a heavier and warmer description than those worn when walking or in the house. Never on any account use what i3 . called a riding belt or stay; in other i unrds. an abbreviated and thoroughly unsatisfactory contrivance, neither high enough nor sufficiently strong to serve j as a support for the figure. It is only excessively slight and naturally erect women who cau indulge iu the wealing . of such flimsy articles. j Ribbons should not be used as ties, especially gaudy ones nor indeed should anvthing colored (including veils 1 uu uonciaj c.ci yj .-v rider who desires to lay claim to the posses.sion of even ordinary go .taste In this 1 am strongly opposed to the j opinions of " eille Moustache aud , other well-known authorities; but every ; man and every woman h:is a full and ! just right to his and her own views upon all such matters, and when we put '. them in print for the beuefit of others, i it is with the object of directing and advising by the reasonableness of them, rather than of eocrciiii by thesr wei it and power. Gloves should bo of doeskin or of strong, fine quality leather. They should be double-stitched in every part, have n. 1 . ... V. . i .,...1 1... .i,.i..!v l.ivrr.. I at, io umwi, iiu uc uim ; in order to allow full play for the fingers . and muscles of the hand, as also to admit of circulation going freely for ward for all extremities become chill ed if cramied up in covering too small. A Itatn In the lH-ail sea. The beat was terrific, but I could not resist the temptation, says a tourist. Moreover. I wished to test the buoyancy of the water; so I threw away the um brella upon winch most bather rely, and, disrobing, boldly waded in. I substan tiated the statements of those who t maintain that it is impossible to sink iu the water by throwing mvself recklessly in with closed eye?. Not only was it impossible to sink, but 1 could scarcely regain my footing, so lightly did I tloat on the surface. I had been warned about getting the water in my eyes or mouth, but could not help it. Bah, what a malignant, nauseating mixture it ml I could not eradicate the smart from my eyes or the deadly taste from my mouth for a long time. "Oh. I hate the Dead Sea." I blub bered as I emerged, blinking aud drip ping from the water, and proceeded to scrape the saline incrustation from my body. But the worst sensation was an an awful smarting and burning about my aukles, for I hail now been five days in the saddle, and my ankles were some what chafed from wieiding the spurs. Mr. Floyd told or bringing forty-two cadets down to the Dead Se i ouce who had poor animals, and had consequently become very sore from the long ride. They would bathe, and paid for the privilege by walking all the ten miles back to Jericho. Tiiey were too si x to sit in the saddle. My hair proved to be sticky for an hour or so. I don't think I ever got so thoroughly salted down before. Nevertheless, there was no salt visible at the north end of the sea. It is at the south eud, where there is no Jordan to partially purify the water, that the famed mountains of literal rock salt are to be seen. Ordi nary sea water has about four per cent, of salt iu it, while the Dead Sea has some twenty-six per cent. This per centage is fixed aud steady despite all that the Jordan and other streams can do to "heal the waters." lmperrloaskin. Is there any animal whose skin is impervious to a rifle bullet? Up to a &2 J??" T t0 ta very recent date the belief in the impen-1 S 'UA ? w V.T etrabihty of the rhinoceros' hide was!" t0 catch for the almost universal, and no wonder, since , mca2 mne ne" yea the gravest and most reliable authori- Somebody who professes to have ties industriously promulgated the deiu-' got reliable data of the shakes announ slon. "The hardest buliet, nay, even ' ces that there is an average of 110 pre an ingot of iron, will not pierce it," j ceptlble earthquakes throughout the says one ancient writer. A few years civilized world every year, ago, some psuts also of the skin of the 1 it is said that there are over 170 -cayman and of the crocodile were be- rjoo tons of sugar in the bonded ware lievcd to be impervious to a rifle bullet, ' houses of Brooklyn, an amount in but it is not so now. Formerly rifles 1 store never before known in the history were comparatively weak. The bullets of Biooklyn bonded warehouses, were round, and entirely of lead. Now! , . . rifles for large pachv-dermatus animals A S "n13co womaa 13 sulnffa are made vastly stronger. The charge an r?10,000 damages,becanse,onUie of powder is increased. The bullets, p tof last month, he promised to marry which are conical, are made of lead er W1.thln , ,reanable tlme' aad mixed with zinc, and are pointed with43 not et '"lUed the agreement. Iron. Such bullets driven by such a A. tricycle trip from Italy through animal m existence. j.nev wiu eio unit oi uenoa. to ijomoene. ij ( much more; they will crash through the aiull of an Afridsflelcpi-jit, NEWS IN BRIEF. -The beet root sugar manufacture Is being overdone in Germany. There are 2.750 languages or dia lects spoken on this globe. Chickens are a slow sale in Feli ciana. La., even at $1.00 a dozen. Thirty-six men and nine women committed suicide for love in 1383. Burglaries have been extremely numerous of late in Salt Lake City. About 40,000,000 penn:es were coined in the United States in 1S33. There are now in England 41 ladies duly elected asGuardians of the Poor. The wood pavemeut being put down in Paris is a United States pat ent. Florence, S. C, has abolished its tax of f 1 a day on commercial travel lers. The births in Spain during 1S83 numbered 433,000, and the deaths 41$, 000. Two cannons, buried since 112, have been dug up in South street, New York. London has three theatres man aged by women. They are crowded nightly. In Shubuta. Miss., the bovs take the girls out driving in buggies drawn by oxen. The worsted industry of England employs 2,225,820 spindlers; in France, 2,7oo,000. Long Island woods and swamps are said to be unusually full of snakes this summer. il An Oglethorpe, Ga., boy has In- vented a cash drawer for which be has refused $10,000. Farmers near the allegeu diamond farm at Palmyra, Wis , are selling out at high prices. The greatest ocean depth ever ascertained by sounding was live miles and a quarter. It is estimated that the yield of ap ples in Western New York will be 4, 000,000 barrels. Dakota has l,4f 0 square miles of water surface and 147,700 square miles of land surface, Only five genuine signatures of Shakestieare, it is stated, are known to be in existence. Camula exported last year Sl,70.", 817 worth of butter and 0,4j1,S.O worth of cheese. Sturgeon fishermen along the II ud- son have been complaining of an uu- usually bght catch. There are 100 prisoners serviug under life sentences in the Concord, Mass., State prison. The French postal authorities have adopted a device for the mechanical stamping of letters. Chicago now compels shopkeepers t0 maintain seats for their feminine clerki aUll attendants. Tunbridge, Dakota. ce,ebrated tUe Foimh of h . . . thiiv 3 ln 'x noIae ""leves. t Senator Bayari is the father of twelve youthful Bayards-nme daugh- ters and three sons. Twenty-five Indiana jails, it is stated, have been condemned by the fctate .board of Health. The conquest oV Tonquin has al ready cost France 10J, 000,000 francs. Such theft is not profitable. For the past thirty yeare Denmark b:i4 enntrihnf tkA . mjrltf ;iviinrTo tt 1 . 9 people to Mormoudom. A volume la about to be published. at Shanghai, it is said, containing the "Ave Maria" in 340 languages. In the Atlantic States, it is said, the life of an apple tree is 40 years, while it is only half that iu the West. A fifty -one pound watermelon and a one pound tomato are what Hernando County, Florida, has done this season. The woods of the United states are estimated to cover over 30,000,000 acres, or sixteen per cent, of the total urea. Texas grows, it is stated, a "drought-proof" grass, that can bo cut every four weeks from May till frost. New nitre-beds are being constant ly found in Nevada, aud they are de clared to be of greater value thau those of Teru. A "professor" advertises in a Newark paper that be will "Instruct persons how to swim without gomg into the water." The population of Chicago, accord ing to tie school census recently com pleted, has increased about twenty-five per cent, since 1SS0. The bricks used in the construction of bis Church In Tennessee, are said to have been all made by Rev. W. H. Key, colored, the pastor. A New York seedsman has a fifty four pound box of cauliflower seeds, which he calls worth f 2700, and keeps in a safe-deposit vault. Six hundred pond lilies were recently distributed by a citizen of Concord, Mass., among the prisoners iu the State prison there. Of clergymen in the United States, according to the figures of the last census, there are t4, 003 about 550 more than there are lawyers. A raft of walnut logs, valued at S40.000, has recently reached New Orleans, where it will le sawed into boards and then shipped North. The Litest faith-cure reported is that of a lady living m Newark N. J., who had been bed-ridden with spine disease and paralys is for eight and a half years. The highest salary now paid any base , rode ' days a sociable, and spent ittrty-aix days on the journey. i i In f! 5 V4 "v v v.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers