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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
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5 V4
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