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A. K. ItilEEll, Editor & Proprietor.
VOL. .62.
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c grlrrtM PSOOq.
When the Swallows Homeward Fly
IVlsen the swallows homeward fly,
NI - hen the roses seat.tered lie,
When from neithei,hill nor dale,
Chants the ally'ry nightingale.
In these words my bleeding heart,
Would to thee Its grief IMpart,
IVhen I thus thine image lose,
eh, gen I o'er lorim repose,
Can 1, all, can 1 know 11.1)0814.
I=lllllll
To seek at noon the nrantrw groves,
When the red tints of the West,
Prove the sun has gone 10 rest,
In these words toy Wedding heart,
Would to thee Its grief itopart,
When I thus thine image !Gee,
Can I, at, ran I e'er sooty repose,
Can I, at, can I o'er know repose.
Hush my heart, why thus complain
Thou must too thy woos contain,
Though on earth no !noire wo rote,
Loudly breathing vows of lore,
Thou my heart must find relief,
Yielding to these words belief;
1 shall see thy term again
Though today we part again,
Though to-day we part again.
~~~~~~~l~axaz~coll~.
DEATH AT THE ALTAR
A PHYSICIAN 8 STI)Ill
" At last!" I said, joyfully, as I de
scended the steps of a London mansion
and entered my brougham. "At last
my day's work is finished, and I may hope
for at ledst a few hour's repose. Hume,"
I said to the coachman; and, throwing
myself back in the seat, gave way to my
thoughts. I had acquired, during a
practice extending over nearly thirty
years, a habit of passing in review, at the
close of my day's labors, all the 'patients
whom - I had-seerr-and -prescribed-fur:
this habit I attribute, in a great measure,
the suece•=sful treatment of many of my
most difficult cases ; fur frequently, while
thus reconsidering the case, away from
the sick-room, the nervous worrying of
the patient, and the well-meant but inju
dicious comments of friends, an entirely
new diagnosis would present itself, and
ultimately prove the correct one. My
visiting list that day was a heavy one,
and I had reconsidered the symptoms and
determined on the treatment of half my
patients before I arrived at my own house
in Cavendish Square. Alas !my dreams
of repose were futile, for, as soon as I en
tered, the servant handed me two notes
One was from a Mrs. Mansfield, the wife
of a rich city merchant, with a mansion
in Easton Square, and ran as fbllows
" Docion—Pray come round at once.
Clara has had another of those distressing
nervous attacks ; if anything, worse than the
previous ones. Use all your skill, for at the
present juncture it is most awkward
"Yours, very truly, EMMA MANSFIELD."
" Awkward, indeed 1" I muttered,
not over pleased. " And is that the tern:
used by a mother in speaking of a daugh
ter's health ! U Mammon, thou art in
truth omnipotent! Here in this mercen
ary old woman speaking of her daugh
ter's bad health as ' awkward,' and why .!
Because the said daughter had attracted
the favorable regards of a man old enough
to be her father—a lump of gout and ser•
vile imbecility. What matter! Is be
not a baronet ! Sir Richard Burley of
Burley Hall, Berks, ,, with fifteen thousand
a year ; a park, a town house, and family
jewels, of course; and of course, also,
poor little Clara Mansfield's nervous at
tack's (as her mamma designates viol6nt
hysterics, followed by deadly syncope )
are very awkward,' when the baronet is
expected to make an offer every day."
Telling the coachman to wait, I ' entered
the house, and, while waiting for a glass
of water and a biscuit, (dinner was out
of the question,') opened the other note.
It ran thus : ./
"DEAR DOCTOR—Please give me a look
round at once. That confounded RUSSIAN
BULLET in my body gives me a good deal of
pain to-dad, Besides, I wish to see you par
tioutarly on another subject, which almost
drives me mad.
s' Yours very sincerely, Gunnar, SEVY."
•° Confound the fellow !" 1 muttered;
been out to a bachelor's party, 1, sup
p)se—had too much punch, and as a con
sequence the ' UR - he calls
it, in his body, sets up a mild^ inflamma
tion by way of it reminder of its pros-
ence."
'Nevertheless, in less than five minutes
I was being whirled down to Selby's
chambers in Clarges street,_Piceadilly.—
Now, in spite of my ill-humor, I felt un
easy at, young Selby's brief Note. First
purely professional point of view,
did not like the return of the pain from
the bullet ;• secondly, in a more human
friendly point of view,
,I was concerned
to know what had ,occurred to make my
young friend write in such strong-terms.
lie was not usually demonstrative;. but
now he wrote of something which " al
most, drove him mad."
George Selby had been a patient of
mine for some nine months, and, under
Providence, owed his life to my unremit
ting care. Ile was a lieutenant in the
—th Foot, and first on the list for his
company. On the glorious but bloody
day of Inkerman he was stricken down
while leading his company on, (the cap
tain had previously fallen.) Ile was car
ried desperately wounded from the corpse
strewn plain—alive, but leaving his left
arm behind him, and carrying off in lieu
of it a brace of bullets in his body. One
was successfully extracted, and, in due
course, the wound healed.
The stump of his left arm, too, pro,
gressed favorably, and, hut for the empty
sleeve, was as sound as before. But the
second bullet puzzled the whole staff of
surgeons, army and civilian. They knew
it was in, but not all their skill could get
it out In vain they probed; in vain
they speculated as to its whereabouts.—
Wherever it was, it 'seemed determined
to remain ; so after putting the poor
wounded soldier to the torturb several
times in each day during a weary month,
they gave it up in despair, allowed the
wound in the chest to heal, and sent the
incorrigible Russian projectile home in
theinvalided body of poor George Selby.
One surgeon, loth to give up the search,
boldly proposed to the patient that he
should submit to a "little operation."—
When" interrogated by the wounded lieu
tenant as to its nature, this practitioner
cooly informed him that the "little ope'r
ation" merely consisted in cutting down
through the dorsal muscles, , to the
supposed site of the ball, instead of at
tempting to find it by the'wound ! He,
however, decidedly objected to be cut
down through the back on the chance of
finding the bullet somewhere.
All my professional brethren whom he
had consulted had strictly enjoined a
lowering diet, with total abstinence from
stimulents, arid anything which could in
the least degree tend to irritate and in
flame the seat of mischief. Now, al
though I could not condemn this mode
of treatment under the circunistances, yet
I saw plainly that a change was the only
chance of saving the patient's life: Fear
ful of inflammation, which was always
threatening, _sometimes imminent, they
had adopted the most•stringent antiphlo
gistie measures, and had thereby weak
ened the system and lowered the vital
powers to that degree, that to lower them
further would be to lower the patiem out
of existenee.• Suieh being the state of af
fairs, I -ordered lout to the sea-side, told
him to take nourishing food and a pint
of port wine daily, until the inflammation
and pain were deeirledly disappeared.—
Then I gi e hint directions how to sub
due it, principally by local means, for I
foresaw clearly that the system would
bear no more. tampering with. He fol
lowed toy advice with much wonder and
some little misgiving. However, the ease
turned out exactly as I expected ; the
wine and good living did bring on a re-
turn of the Inflammatory symptoms.—
These, however, were subdued by local
applicationsyleechingrst - IpTring - the - wine ,
and lowering the di, t again for a day or
so, while the general he.ilth was so uni-..h
improved as to enable him successfully to
resist and ride over the danger. After
the first fortnight he had no return of the
pain or any of the bad symptoms, arid I
congratulated myself on having effected
a perfect cure. Selby returned to town,
and, seeing much of him, I got to like
him amazingly. fl is large frank nature
had in it something so resh ; his grati
tude to myself was, though unostentatious,
so genuine, that I, old, hard man of the
world, a. 9 a long London practice had
made me, felt deeply interested in the
young lieutenant. His fortitude and
good temper, even when his frame was at
the weakest and his sufferings were at
the highest point, were such as in a long
experience 1 had seldom seen equaled—
never exceeded. He came to see me fre
quently, and made of me a confidant in
in all his troubles, mental as well as
physical. Thus it happened that I kneW
all about himself and his prospects. The
latter were tolerable, for although he had
in praesenti only about a huhdred and
thirty pounds a year above his pay, he
had in fuluro a certainty of a moderate
estate of something like fifteen hundred
a year after the death of an old uncle of
sixty.
Arriving Clarges street, I was shown
into his apartments, where I found him
impatiently pacing up and down the room.
His face was flushed, while I could at
once see, by the sudden twitch that ever
and anon came over his features, that his
old enemy, the " Russian," as he called
the bullet, was making itself felt.
" Why, George, my boy," I said,
" What's the matter ? You look hot and
feverish. Let me feel your pulse r—
'took his hand. " Ninety-five as I live,"
I cried, " and with a sharp twang like a
harp-string. Why, what on earth have
you been doing with'yourself ? You•were
perfectly well when I saw you yesterday."
" Doing with myself" he replied';
" upon my word, doctor, 1 hardly knoW.
It's not the bullet that troubles me, though ,
Heaven knows that's,bad enough."
Here his features again twitched con
vulsively, and he turned deadly pale as
the pain shot through him. True to him
self, however, he never uttered a word on
the subject, and when it had somewhat
passed off, continued—
" Sit down, doctor, and I'll tell you all
about it."
He filled himself a glass of wine, and
was about to comirience when 1 stopped
him.
" You aro drinking wino, I see ! How
much have you taken to-day," I asked.
" That's the second bottle since tour
o'clock," he said, coolly, pointing to a de
canter in which there was about a tea
spoonful leTt. •
" Well, upon my word, this is very
nice conduct ! Here you send for me,
and I find you in a burning fever, with
all the old bad symptoms returning, and
you drink wine before my face, and coolly
tell me, you've finished two bottles in, less
than three hours, why, sir, you're mad !"
't Qom°, doctor," ho said, "-don't be
A s)sangm TR% VASalta eltanalM.
ill-tempered. I care little for the bodily
pain; but if you knew what I suffer in
mind, you would make some allowance
for me."
" Well, well," I said looking at my
watch, " make haste and say what you
have to say, as I have another patient to
t visit, and have not yet dined."
" Yes, I know," he said bitterly; " you
are going to see Clara Mansfield ; her
mother has §ent for you." Then seeing
'my look of surprise, he added : " You
wonder how I knew it— c -quite a clairvoy
ant you think me, do you not 7 But, it
is ea , ily explained, for I was there when
the young lady was attacked, and it was
in my arms she fell when she fainted."
My astonishment was great at this, for
t although I knew George Selby to be ac
' (painted with the Mansfield-i, having my
self introduced hioi, I was not aware that
I he was on such terms of intimacy as to
be an afternoon visitor.
If I was surprised at this fact, I was
infinitely more so as he went on speak-
Ile spoke rapidly and passionately,
awl several times ere he concluded rose
and walked impatiently up and down the
room.
It was now some months since I intro
duced him to the Mansfield family. Mrs.
Mansfield, whose whole heart was set on
forcing leer was into good • society, had
asked me as a particular favor to introduce
to her as many gentlemen of good position
and family as possible. Mr. Mansfield
had but lately retired from business, and
migrated from his house at Clapham to
the Eaton Square mansion ; consequently
their circle of West-end acquaintance was
extremely limited ; nor could Mrs. Mans
field, with all her worldly wisdom and
manieuvering, backed by the *money bags
of her husband, succeed in increasing it
as she could have wished. A great din
ner party was determined_ on; but al
though' he viands and cookery might be
of the best, and the wines of the costliest
vintages, the dinner would be given in
vain if there were no one to eat it.
It was under these circumstances that
introdkiced my friend, Lieutenant Selby.
En answer to their inquiries, 1 was ena
bled to inform them that he was well
, born, well connected, with good prospects,
and moving in food circles. With this
they were fully satistii d, and George Sel
by, with his interesting pale face and
empty sleeve, was made quite a lion of.
With the two young ladies he became an
espacial favorite ; and I soon fancied that
Clara, the younger, was far from itadiffer
ent to his merits, mental and personal,
which were not small, spite of his one
arm. As fur the young felkw himself, I
never could quite make him out lie
would talk, laugh and flirt to their heart's
content; with the full approval,'be it ob
served, of the worthy mamma, who doubt
less at that time considered him a 'deci
dedly eligible parti—at all events too
good an acquaintance to be diseouragnd.,
It seemed to me,. however, notwithstand
ing the disguised preference of my pretty
Clara for him, that he divided his atten
-timr- pretty-N-(111111y between-1 ire-t
ters ; I was*therefore the more surprised
when he informed me this day, that al
though lie had never declared his love, he
and die young lady perfectly understood
each other alter less than a month's ac
quaintance. Soon, however, the Mans
fields, by dint of pushing and elbowing
their way, managed to get the thin end
of the wedge into society ; one introduc
tion led to ' another : occasionally the
merchant could boast of a live lord at his
mahogany, and more than one baronet's
card might have been found in the card
plate.
In proportion as Mrs. Mansfield increa
sed and extended her acquaintance, her
self-esteem rose, and she began to regard
George Selby as scarcely up to their stan
dard. It was at this juncture that a lit
tle misunderstanding arose between him
self and Clara—jealousy on her part and
pride on his—for he was proud as Luci
fer, and would laugh at them to their
faces about their wealth and his own po
verty. From what he himself told ~me,
and from what happened afterwards, I
know that Clara Mansfield really loved
him—alas ! for herself, deeply, perma
nently. I had known Clara from a child,
and could theiefore vouch for her affec
tionate, amiable disposition ; but I also
knew that she was passionate, and at times
hasty. Although George Selby was at
no time formally her suitor, accepted or
otherwise, her woman's heart told het'
that he loved her, and it required no con
juror to discover the state of her feelings
towards him, for she was impulsive and
candid, almost .do an extreme. This be
ing the ease, che assumed the privileges
and power she should have possessed had
they been formally engaged. Sooth to
say, George bore this very well, for the
yoke was a very light one, and the whip,
when Wielded by the charming Clara, was
rather a; delicate compliment than a chas
tisement, or restraint.
'Ono unlucky day, however, Clara gave
his ,prido a blow from which it never re-,
covered. The very excess of her love for
him made her almost morbidly jealous;
and on this ocleasiounhe thought be had
been paying too great attention to some
other fair damsel. Selby kept his tem
per admirably, rather pleased than other
wise-at this evidence-of the deep love she,
bore him. Not so'Clara. Provoked a
yond endurance by the playful manner in
which he parried her reproaches, she pro
ceeded a step farther, and, though„in her
heart she knew he was as true as steel,
oven questioned his motives in paying his
attentions to her.. Not noticing or not
heeding. the growing paleness of his face,
and the gathering cloud on his brow, she
went on wounding his proud spirit more
deeply every moment, till at last the bit-'
ter, unpardonable words were said—yes;
'she, Clara Mansfield, ROM kneW he was
the soul of honor, asserted
-that ho cared
not one bit for herself, hut that 'it was - -her
fortune that attracted him She said the,
words, and knew at the time thilt they
wore false as he was true. She spoke
them deliberately, and, her heart smote
her instantly for her injustice. She
stamped her little foot as she Anishad, and
CARLISLE, PA., FRIDAY, DLCEMBER 5, 1862.
waited impatiently for an answer, hoping
that he would be in a passion, and indig
nantly disclaim any such motives. Then
she would say she was sorry, and would
make it up again, and they would be bet
ter friends than ever.
Thus thought poor Clara. Alas! for
human forethought, George Selby did
nothing of the sort. He was silent for a
' long time, remaining standing before her
with downcast eyes and pale. She began
to be frightened. At last he raised his
head, and, bowing coldly, said quietly—
" Miss Clara Mansfield, I have the honor
to wish you a very good morning."
Then he turned and left the room, and
Clara was alone with her misery.
Selby saw her no more, for he carefully
avoided the house, until this day, when
meeting Mr. Mansfield, who had none of
his wife's high notions, he had been drag
ged in almost against his will. He de
clared he would not have gone had not
the old gentleman said the young ladies
were out. This proved, however, not to
be the case ; for Clara was at home, and
in spite of all be could do to prevent it,
they were left alone together in the room.
There was an embarrassing silence ; then
she burst into tears, and throwing herself
at his feet, begged folgiveness for her
words.
" What could I do?" he said to me.—
" I could only tell her I had nothing to
forgive, and console her."
" Of course you could not do otherwise.
But now, my buy, it sculls to rue that the
quarrel is made up. Wliat is it that an
noys you? Can you be so ungenerous as
to bear malice still ?"
" Wait a minute," he continued bitter
ly; "you have not heard all. It appears
that this very morning—urged on, influ
enced, and, I fancy, intimidated by that
heartless old mother of hers=she has ac
tually accepted Sir Richard - Burl - 6y r'
" She told me," he continued after a
pause, " that she had written to me twice,
and looked and longed in vain -for an an
swer. The old story I suppose—scheming
mother in the interest of rich suitor inter
-cepts•letters to poor one. - All this she
told me, and more. She said she hated,
loathed this man whom she had accepted,
and that she loved me. Then Mrs. Mans
field came into the room and a scene en
sued. he reproached Cram with a false
hood, ingratitude, d 1 know.
nut what; me she accused of being dis
honorable, abusing the rights of hospital
ity, and finally concluded by expressing
her belief that it was her daughter's for
tune which I sought. At this last accu
sation Clara fired up and defended me
against her mother, until, unable any lon
ger to endure the torrent of reproaches
hurled at me, she fell faintinr , in my arms.
Then all was hurry.scurry and conf•fsion,'
and while she was yet insensible, tife ac
cepted lover drove up in his carriage. I
heard the servant dispatched for you, and
as soon as Joy poor gi rl began.. to. ShoW
signs of returning life, I left the house
I wet Sir Richard on the stairs, and if
ever I felt inclined to pitch a man over
the bannister, it was --- thert -------- AifitiloW;
doctor, you know all. I shall, of course,,
never return to the house again, and poor,
little Clara will be Lady Burley, of Bur-1
ley Park, &c."
" Conic, come," I said. "Nil Despe
randum ! Let us hope for the best. I
will see what can be done ; meanwhile you
take this composing dtaught • and go to
bed. I will come to you early to-mor
row."
He sent out the prescription for the
draught, but declared he would not, could
riot, lie down; so I left him pacing im
patiently up and down the room, and
drove to Eaton Square.
I was shown into the drawing-room,
and was quickly joined by Mrs. Mans
field.
"So 'very unfortunate for poor dear
Clara!" she said, sailing up to me and
taking my hand in her vulgarly artificial
manner; "so peculiarly unforturiate,,doe
tor, at present I I suppose you know that
she is engaged to be married toßir Rich
ard Burley. Such an excellent match
Dear Clara has the hiibcst regard and
respect for him, and he, dear man ! is
most impatient for the ceremony to come
off. Indeed, papa and I have just been
talking it over with Sir Richard, who is
still with Mr. Mansfield, and who talks
of afortnight; but we both thought that
nothing less than a mouth would be pro
per and decorous. Do you not agree with
me, doctor ?"
" Madam," I said, gravely, "my time
is valuable ; I was not aware that you sent
for me to discuss the details of your
daughter's marriage. I gathered from
your note that she was ill, and hurried
here, as from - what I know of her consti
tution I mistrust and . fear these fainting
fits."
I could sobroely keep my temper dur
ing the next five minutes, in which Mrs.
Mansfield insisted on treating , nre with
the whole history of the arrangements=
the liberal settlements promised by Sir
Richard, the family jewels, and all the
other primary points in the eyes of the
sons and daughters.of Mammon.
[CONCLUDED NEXT. WEEK.] _
ANIMAL INSTINCT."--I knew of a jack
daw that often used to_eat the gum that
excuded from plum trees, and always did
so when unwell. In connection with this
subject, it may well bo mentioned that a
careful observer would find hiruseff.re,
paid by watching the modes of care em
ployed by the sick and wounded creatures.
We all know that dor , s and cats resort to
grass when they feel of health, and
hares to a species of moss. I was told,
on the authority of an•eye-witness, that a
goldfinch, which had been struck by a
hawk, and wounded, made its way to a
dry puff-ball, tore it open with its beak.
and' dusted the wounddd shoulder with
the,spores, thereby - stopping the effusion
oqlood. The spectator was greatly sur
prised at the incident, and being induced
to try the same remedy upon a wounded
finger, found that the experiment war
CQUlPletely succestiful.—Routleclge7f illus
trated Natural Iliatory. •
THE TWO PICTURES
A few years agO, some persons of culti
vated taste, and lovers of the fine arts, met
at the house of a distinguished traveler.
During the evening, a discussion arose
among the guests respecting certain paint
ings, and the comparative merits of the
old masters.
" I hear," said the ho'sii turning to a
friend at the table, " that you purchased
the large picture that in days of yore
adorned my hall."
" Yes," was the reply, " and although
I obtained it at a very moderate price,
considering its great merit, it ultimately
proved a very bad bargain for me."
" I can tell you," said the gentleman,
"a very singular adventure connected
with that picture; but before I do so, pray
tell me how your afflictions arose."
"It is a simple story, and I fear you
will say—the story of a simpleton. The
picture was greatly 'admired; and one day
a gentleman expressed a great desire to
inspect it, and after giving utterance in
glowing terms to his admiration, he urged
that it should be sent to a person, whom
he named, to be cleaned and repaired. I
consented to confide it to this highly ex
tolled artist, and after paying some pounds
fora suitable case, and divers other pounds
for charges to and fro, and thirteen pounds
to the knight of the brush for his labor, I
again received my picture, but, in the in
terval, alterations in the house rendered
so large a picture no longer admissable;
therefore forwarded it to London for sale.
This was another expense. It was placed
in a galle`iy, and there for some time it
remained ; but the expenses becoming too
heavy, I ordered it to be sold for whatever
it would produce. For my consolation, I
received a letter informing me that had 1
sent the painting to town in its original
state, the writer would have given me
two hundred guineas for it; but now ten
pounds was the utmost the picture was
worth, and from this goodly sum must be
deducted all the charges incurred, which
meant, in other words, that I had to pay
whatever sum was due over the, said ten
pounds. I settled the matter and hid
adieu -to my picture, and my advice to
others is now exceedingly prudential. I
say to them—if you are rash enough to
buy an old painting, at least be wise
enough to shun all repairs and cleaning.
It is like gilding a. bronze, you waste your
gold and your bronze is spoilt. Now, my
friend, that you have had your smile at
my simplicity, let us hear your.adven
ture."
"It is soon told. When I was in Italy,
I had the opportunity of seeing very many
choice pictures in private collections, and
on my return to England, I was astonish
ed to learn that. one of these collections
had been sent to this country, and was to
be sold by an eminent auctioneer in Bond
street. I took care to attend the sale, as
there were two pictures which I desired
to possess; the one was the painting which
caused your dpictions, and the other was
a cabinet picture, very small, but deli
cately_finished, and theiwitt .to_be the best
production of that master. The atten
dance was good, and the contest for the
little painting was very spirited, but stop
ped very suddenly when the last bidding
had reached to nine hundred and fifty
pounds. Upon:this I advanced twenty
five pounds, and no one seemed, as I
thought, willing to exceed that sum, when
a Jew cried out a thousand pounds. 1
bid ag ain twenty-five pounds, and felt as
sured that the picture would be mine;
but, as the hammer was falling, my oppo
nent, the Jew, called nut :
Make it guineas.'
"The bidding ceased, and the auction
eer turned to me, first, a second, and even
a third time, and almost entreated me not
to lose the picture. 1 said, cannot go
higher,' and the picture, the next mo
ment, became the property of the Jew.
A very few minutes aftetwzgds, a foreign
er entered the room in great haste, And
coming up to me inquired, in broken En
glish, when the cabinet picture was to be
sold, pointing to the catalogue. I replied:
"'lt is already sold.'
"'What do you mean, sae' he exclaim
ed.
" ‘: mean,' was my reply, 'that you are
too late; for the lot you mention has been
put up at auction and sold.'
" The gentleman left me, but shortly
after came to me again :
"'I do understand, sar,' he said, ''that
you have bought the picture.'
"'You have been misinformed, sir,' I
replied. bid for the picture,
but I was
not successful. Had 1 purchased the
painting, it would have been added to my
little collection ; bat the person who ob
tained it, if I am not in error, has bought
it for sale, a 0 the punbaser you will find
standing in yonder corner, I may.tell
you for your guidance, that - my bid was
one thousand and twenty-five pounds,
and
the Successful offer was one thousand and
fifty pounds: .
" The foreigner expressed 'his thanks
for the information, and after a short time
ho returned to me, bringing with him the
buyer of the picture, and requested me to
do him the favor to step aside to witness
'his arrangement for the purchase of the
painting. The terms agreed upon were
that the foreigner was to pay the auction
eer the one thousand and fifty pounds
purchase money, and whatever charges
there might be,
andkicT pay the Jew one
thousand five hundred pounds as .a profit.
upon the picture. When_the terms were
settled, the fortunate Jew—finding that
without drawing one pound from his own
purse, be was to deposit one thousand five
hundred pciunds into it—could not con
ceal his delight, and in the exuberance of
his ciultation, he laughed, and leaped,
and rubbed his hands. The French gen
tleman, unable to comprehend this active
"kind of mirth, mistook it for ridicule, and
regarded it as an insult on the part of the
Jew.- - -The offended man's wrath rose to
actual rage; when, clenching his fist at
the Jew, he cried out :
"Aron laugh at me, ear—yon insult
me—yes, ear, you mock - me because. you
have, gained one thousand pounds. by me,
now, sar, as you do make de sport of me)
I will tell you something. I belong - to de
King of Holland, and my master say to
me, 'There is such a picture to be sold in
' England; there are but two of that kind
in do world, and I have de onei and I
desire very much to have de other: Now,
you go directly to England, and buy that
picture, and you hear me, sar,' said the
king, 'you never come back to Holland if
you do not bring that pictute with yotr.'
Why, sar, in place of giving you de tWo
thousand and five hundred pounds for de
painting, I would have givtrn you five
thousand pounds if you had asked mo
that prioe for de picture--yes, sar, I would
have given you five thousand pounds.'
" No sooner had the Jew heard that-he
might have obtained two thousand five,
hundred pounds above the price he had
asked, than his joy vanished in a moment,
and he set up a roar, wringing his hands
in deep agony. The one thousand five bun-.
dred pounds profit already obtained was
lost sight of in the overwhelming grief of
thinking that had it not been for his mo
desty in asking, he might have walked
out of the room a richer man by four
thousand 'pounds. The foreigier's tri
umph was complete, and if the Jew be
living, it'is more than probable that his
chagrin continues to this day, and what is
worse, that he rrever Will forgive himself
while life lasts. If revenge were the an
gry Frenohman's object, never was re
venge more effectually accomplished.—
When I consider the opposite results to
the Jew and to yourself', the two buyers
of these pictures, I fear there is some
truth in honest Sancho's sentiment: 'that
some men arc born with a silver spoon in •
their mouths, and others with only a
wooden ladle.'''
FEMALE CRIMINALS.—MaIe criminals
are influenced by some amount of r.easan
and forethought; but the female prisoner
flies in the very face of prudence, and
acts more like a mad woman than mra
tional, reflecting human being. Those
who are cunning enough to carry on, by
signs, and looks, and tappings on the wall,
a correspondence with their neighbors,
are less refractory than those of less ex
perience in evading prison rules. I have
known many women, in defiance of a day
or two's bread and water, suddenly shout
across the airing yard, or from one cell to
another, with a noise all the more vehe
ment for the long restraint to which they
have been subjected; and such a proceed
ing, if remonstrated with, is generally
followed by a smashing of windows, and
a tearing up of sheets and blankets, that
will often affect half a ward with a similar
example, if the delinquent is not speedily
carried off to refractory quarters. It has
long been observed that the force of ex
ample, in the matter of "breakings out,"
is sure to be strikingly exemplified; that
for the sake of change, even, and for that
excitement which appears to be a part of
their being, without which they must go
melineholy mad; two or threMivbinen
in. a quiet, aggravating manner, arrange
for a systematic smashing of windows
and-tearing.of-sheets- and -blankets:-
have even known women address their
matrons in a style similar to the follow
ing : " Miss G , I'm going to break out
tonight." " Oh, nonsense, you won't
think of any such folly, I'm sure." Per
suasion.is generally attempted at first, as
a "breaking out" disturbs a whole prison
greatly for a day or two. " I'm sure I
shall, then." "What for?" "Well, I've
made up my mind ; that's whlt for. I
shall break out tonight—see if I don't."
"lies any one offended you, or said any
thing ?" "N—no. But I must break
out. It's so dull here. I'm sure to break
out." "And then you'll go to the 'dark."'
"I went to go to the " is the an
swer. And the breakin , b out often oc
curs, as promised; and the glass shatters
out of the window frames, and strips of
sheets and blankets are passed through or
left in a heap in the cell, and the guards
are sent for, and there is a scuffling, and
fighting, and screaming, that Pandemo
nium might equal, nothing else.—Female
Life 'Prison.
Discoveries IN JENUSALEM : An account
of Signor Piorotti's discoveries in the subterra
nean topography of Jerusalem has been pub
lished. Employed by the Pasha as an engi•
neer, he has discovered that the modern city
of Jerusalem stands on several layers of ruin
ed masonry, the undermost' of which, compos
ed of deeply bevelled end enormous stones, he
attributes to the age of Solomon, the neat to
that of Zorobabel, the next to that of Herod,
the next to that of Justinian, and so on till
the time of the Saracens and Crusaders. He
has traced series of conduits and Bowers 1a44-
ing from the "doom of the rock," a mosque
standing on the very site of the altar of Bawl
tice in the Temple, to the Valley of Jehoso
phat, by means of which the priests were en
&bled to furnish the whole temple area with
rater, and thus to carry off the blood and
offal of the sacrifices to the brook of Kedron.
The manner of this exploration was very in
teresting. He got an Arab to walk' p through
those immense sewers, ' ringing a boll and
blowing a trumpet, while he himself by fol- •
lowing the sound was able to trace the exact
course they took.
About two years ago ho accidentally discov
ered a fountain at the pool of Bethesda, and
o• his opening it a copious stream of water
immediately began to flow, and has flowed
ever since. No one knows from whence it
comes or wither it goes.' This caused the
greatest excitement among the Jews, who
flocked in crowds to drink and bathe them
selves in it They lauded it was one of the
signs of Messiah's coming, and portended the
speedy restoration of their commonwealth.
This fountain; which has a peculiar taste
like that of milk and water, is identified by
Signor Pierotti with the fountain which Hex
ekiah built, and which is described.Lby Jose
phus. The measurement and position of
most of those remains accord exactly with
the Jewish historian's descriptions. Some of
the Signor's conclusions are disputed, but no
one has succeeded In so disinterring the relics
of the Holy City.
ALL the women of the villages on the
shores of the Gulf of Mexico are in the.
habit of swimming The young ladies
aro all," diving belles."
MILTON says' that ,many thistles grow
upon Parnassus. pat must be the rea
son why so many donkeys browse at its
base. - . • •
heir It le better to look round on prosperi
ty then book on glory.
5111. 50 per annum In advant6
t $2 00 If not paid in-advance
Epj
A TALENTED PIG
The Rev. J. G. Wtion„ier his "Aeinad
Traits and Charactetisties," thus glorified
one: "A curious animal is a pig, gentle:
men ! Very cunning, too—a great deal
more sensible than people give their( ere:
dit for. I had a pig aboard my ship that
was too knowing by half. All hands Were
fond of him, and there *as not one oti
board who Would have seen him injured.
There was a dog on bodtd, too, and tho
pig and he Were capital friends; they ate
out of the same plate, Walked about the
decks together, and would lie down sidd
by side under the bulwarks in the sun.
The only thing they ever (paroled about
was lodging. The dog, you see, sir, had
got a kennel for himself; the pig had
nothing of the sort. We did not think
he needed one ; but he had his own no
tions upon that matter. Why should
Toby be better housed off a night that
he 1 Well, sir, he had somehow got it
into his head that possession is nine parte
of the law ; and though Toby tried to'
show him the rights of the question, he
was so pig-headed that he could not un
derstand. So every night it caine to be
catch as catch can.' If. the dog could,
get in first, he wont.] show his teeth, an
the other bad to lie under the boat,.or to
find the softest plank where he could ; if
the pig was in possession,the dog tOuld not
turn him out, but looked out for his re
venge next time. One evening, gentle- .
men, it had been blowing hard all day'
and I had just ordered close-reefed sails;
for the gale was increasing,: and• there'
was a. good deal of sea running, and it.:
was coining on to be Wet; in short, I said
to myself, as I called down the compan
ion-ladder fur the boy to - bring up my
pea-jacket, 'We are going to have a dirty
The-pigdwas-slipping and tumb::
ling about the decks, fur the ship lay
over so much with the breeze, being close
hauled, that he could not keep his hoofs.
At last, lie thought he would go and se ,
cure his berth for the night, though it
wanted a good bit to dusk. But, Io and
behold ! Toby hadleen °lithe same mind,
and there he was safely housed. 'Graph,:
umph !' says piggy, as lie turned and
looked up at the black sky to windward;
but. Toby did not offer to move. At last;
the pig seemed to give it up, and took si
turn nr two, as if he was making op his
mind which was the warmest eurnor.—
Presently lie trudges off to the lee scup- .
pers, where the tin plate was lying tha t
they ate their cold potatoes off.
" Pig takes up the plate in his Mouth.;
and carries it to a part of the deck where
the dog could see it, but some way from :
the kennel; then, .turning his tail toward
the dog, lie begins to act as if he was eats
ing out of the plate, making it rattle, and
munching with his mouth pretty loud.—:
'What!' thinks Toby, 'has piggy got vic
tuals there r and he pricked up his ears
and looked out toward the place, making
a little Whining. `Champ! chain p!' goes
the pig, taking not the least notice of the
dog; and down goes his mouth to the plate
41ga couldn'-t—stand—th a t - any'
longer; victuals, and lie not there I Out
lie runs, and conies up in front of the pig;
with his mouth watering, and pushes bis
cold nose into the empty plate. Like a
shot, gentlemen, the pig turned tail, and
was snug in the kennel before Toby well'
knew whether there was any meat or not
in the plate."
ARTEMUS WARD ON TrtE
The red wan of the forest was formly a
very respectable person. Justice to thi)
noble abooryginc warrants me in saying
that orriggernelly he was a majestic cuss.
At the time Chris. arrove on these?
shores, (I allowed to Chris. Columbus,)
the savajis was virtoos and happy. They
were innocent of secession, rum, draw;
poker, and sinfulness girr'rally. They'
didn't discuss the slavery question as it
custom. They had no Congress, faro;
banks, delirium tremens or Asnociated-
Press. Their habits was connequentll
good Late suppers, dispepsy, gas company
ics, thieves, ward politicians, and other'
metropolitan refinements were unknown
among them. No savage in good stated=
big would take postage stamps--yott
couldn't have bo't a coon skin with a bar
rel of 'cm.— Vanity Emir.
MARRIAGES IN FEUDAL TIMES.—The'
law of England was not exactly similar to
this, although sufficiently barbarous to
deserve the execration of all who respect
the privileges of woman. It was a lucra
tive mode of extortion, even down to so
far as the days of Charles 1., both with
the crown and the inferior nobility, td
sell their wards in marriage. This most
barbarous custom gave to the lord of the
manor the right of tendering a husband
to his female wards, While under ages
whom they could not reject without for ,
feiting as much as any one chose to offer
the guardian for such an alliance. And
the larger, the property of the ward, the
larger was the value of the marriage'.— ,,
Thus our fair readers will perceive that
in those days pf chivalry and honor, of
knightly feeling and romantic generosity,
when lances were set in rest to uphold
the beauty of an eyebrow or maintain the
perfection of an ankle; when the Queen
of Love and Beauty presided over the
tournament held in honor of the ladies; in
those chivalric times, they were bought'
and sold like cattle, and men made blanke
and prizes of them in the lottery of life,
—Sixpenny Magazine.
A CHAP out West named Barnes, who
had made a speech at a war meeting, was
criticised in the village paper, which said
it was a very patriotic 4uldress, but dip
_spealter slandered Lindley Murray awful
ly. The neat day Barnes wrote a note
to tbo editor, declaring he . never knew
such a man in his life ae Lindley Murray, '
'and therefore could not have slandered
him. Mrs. Barnes, the Wife, being it tt
icalarty, also-took up_the_eudgels forhef:
husband,. when the matter was• discussed,.:...
by declaring that—" Murray began it by
abusing her husband, and got as good as
he, gavel" •
gm,,, The grave of a fraeman is far , grand
er than the throne.of a elave. . - -
NO 49.