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NEW BLOOMFIELD, lJiS.., TUEBDAY, A.TItIT 20, 1880.
An Independent Family Newspaper,
IS PUBLlBniDIVRHT TUKBDAT BY
F. MORTIMER & CO.
INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
One year (roxtaice Free)
To Bubsorlbers In this County
Whopny In AnvANCR sDlwntinl of JA (Vnts will
nemaile from the almrn farm, nmklng
Rubnorlptloii wlllilu the County,
Whcu l'nld in Adrnnce, 1.85 Per Year.
wr Advertising rates furnished uponapptl-
THE PARTJNQ HOUR.
nr HOWARD POLLOCK.
There's something In the " parting hour"
Will chill the warmest heart
Tot kindred, comrados, lovers, ftlonds,
Are Tatcd all to part.
But this I've seen and many a pang
lias pressed it on my mind
The one who goes Is bnpplor
Than those he leaves behind.
No matter what the Journey bo
Adventurous, dangerous, far,
To the wild deep or bleak frontier
To solitude or war.
Btlll something cheers tho heart that dares
In all of human kind ,
.And they who go are bapplur
Than those they leave bohlud.
The brldo goes to the bridegroom's borne
With doubting aud with tears,
But, does not Hope ber rainbow spread
Across her cloudy fears t
Alast the mother who remains,
What comfort can she. Und,
But this the gone is happier
Than one she leaves behind 7
Have you a friend a comrade dear 1
An old and valued friend ?
Bo sure your term of sweet concourse
At length will have an eud.
And when you part as part jou will
Oh, take It not unkind,
That he who goes Is happier
Than you he leaves behind.
God wills It so and so It Is t
Tho pilgrims on tholr way,
Thongh weak and worn, more cheerful aro
Than all the rest who stay
And when, at last, poor man, subdued,
Lies down to death resigned,
May he not still bo happier fur
Than those he leaves behind 7
Trapping The Smugglers.
IN an inn at the little village on the
New England couBt, two men en
gaged in a conversation relative to a
gibbet located not very far distant, one
of them declaring that every night, at a
certain hour, three murderers would
return and hold converse under it. The
other regarded such a statement as non
sense, and Anally the dispute ended in a
1'et of a horse against a pony, the stakes
being put in charge of a man named
Morton. Bystanders became Interested
in the controversy, and most of the com
pany regarded the bet as already lost by
After the man who had accepted the
wager had departed, accompanied by a
flask of brandy, to encounter supernat
ural foes, one of the spectators said :
" Well, the young fellow's gone. He'll
get enough of It."
" That he will," said another. "They
have driven off better men than him.
He ought to know better than to be so
free with his bets."
While these men were speaking, the
one who had made the bet, with his two
companions, had quietly departed.
. It was on the summit of a wild, bleak
and desolate ridge, terminated by a cliff,
where some years before a murder had
been committed by a gang of - ruffians.
Three of them had been captured and
hanged upon a lofty gibbet on the spot.
As the adventurer neared the locality,
. the wind blew In gusts over the ridge.
The moon, shining out from behind a
cloud, revealed the scene. It was gloomy
indeed, and might well have appalled a
man of strong nerves. As the wind
drove paBt.it swung the skeletons, mak
ing them vibrate slowly to and fro with
all their load of chains and fetters, so
that they creaked aud rattled, and make
a thousand weird aud ghastly sounds in
the lonely darkness. Fiom the distance
there cauie up a deep, low, sullen sound,
at regular Intervals dying and rising
again, to die away in long, low reverber
atlons. Jt was the ocean surf which
beat upon the shore not far away.
These things were sufficient to Inspire
dread In the boldest heart ; still the
young man seemed unnfl'ected by any
superstitious terror. He quietly dis
mounted, flung the horse's bridle over
his arm, drew his clonk about him, and
walled patiently, keeping a wary look
about him, so as not to be surprised In
the gloom. At length he felt conscious
of a low moan, which was different
from any of the sounds he had hitherto
heard. It seemed to arise from the
ground behind him. He grasped his
pistols and turned toward tho direction
from which the sound camo. Then
came a deep groan. A smile of contempt
passed over the watcher's face;
"Very clumsy trickery," he thought.
"If I had the management of It, I
would act differently."
Suddenly there was a grating over
head. He looked up. The skeletons In
chains were descending, moving down
slowly. As they descended they swung
in the wind, and were knocked together
and dashed against the gallows tree.
Btlll they suspended, aud were not com
ing down without being lowered down.
At last they touched the ground. The
watcher took hold of one of them and
gave a violent pull. It fell down, drag
ging a rope after It, which creaked as it
ran through a pulley overhead. The
watcher pulled away at it, and dragged
down a line which was at least a hun
dred feet in length. Meanwhile the
other skeletons kept rising and falling.
He caught one of them with the same
peculiar jerk, and pulled the rope in the
same peculiar way. Suddenly the other
skeleton began to ascend.
"No, no, my fine follow," muttered
the watcher, catching the chains of its
feet before it got out of reach, and pulled
with all his force. It was a sudden,
violent pull, and the skeleton yielded.
Down it full, along with the watcher,
who fell with it to the ground. Hut in
a moment he arose, and with an audible
chuokle, he pulled the rope down also.
Then he stood waiting cautiously as
At last a bright light flashed up from
the ground In front of him. It was
close by the edge of the cliff, and looked
like a crevice. In the midst of the light
three figures appeared, each wrapped in
a long white sheet. They marchtd up
slowly toward the gibbet. The watcher
moved to one side. Suddenly, as they
came near, they made a rush at him.
He fired. One of them dropped. In
stantly he sprang toward the opening
from which they had emerged, and,
pulling out a - boatswain's whistle, he
blew three times a shrill penetrating
blast. Then healted with his pistols
Two out of the three figures stood
motionless, close by the one who had
fallen. Groans of pain came from the
fallen figure. But now others appeared
upon the scene. At the sound of the
shrill whistle six or eight men, all
armed, sprang up from behind a hillock,
where they had lain In concealment,
and rushed up to the two figures. In a
moment they had surrounded and seized
them. The watcher then advanced
" Who's this fellow 5"' said he stooping
over the wounded man, and tearing
away the sheet with which he was
enveloped. "Ah, ha I" it's you Is It"
So you've lost your bet."
It was the man with whom he had
made the bet.
The watcher tore away the sheets
from the others. One was Morton the
man who held the stakes ; the other was
one of the company who had been at
" Who are you ?" cried Morton, sav
agely. "Well, If you want to know, I'm
Captain Arthur, a custom house officer.
I've suspected that you were up to
mischief here. My predecessor failed to
trace out the extensive smuggling opera
tions which have been going; but I
thought that perhaps the gibbet had
something to do with it. You see I've
Morton uttered something between a
curse and an entreaty.
" Tie his hands, lads. Tie up both of
them. Now two of you fellows stay
here. Has anybody got a lantern ?"
One was handed him. He lighted It,
and then descended by the orifice
through which the three figures had
emerged. After n short distance he
found a passage way, which went down
on the side of a cliff that had been sever
ed In twain. The path sloped steeply
for one hundred yards or so, and ended
in a cavern. Here and there were bar
rels and boxes In great numbers, filled
with contraband articles. The cavern
was just underneath the gibbet, tho
latter having been of service in frighten
ing people away from their haunt. Tho
three smugglers, having been so com
pletely entrapped, found themselves cast
down from their dreams of wealth, and
on their way to state prison.
THE GIRL SOLDIER.
FllANCKS HOOK was n young lady
whose parents hud died when she
was only two years old. She resided
with a brother in Chicago who enlisted
In the 05th " Home Guards." Frances
was now alone Lii the world.and, unable
to stand the separation from her brother
she smuggled herself into his regiment
under the name of "Frank Miller."
She served witli her brother three
mouths and wu honorably mustered
out, without the slightest suspicion hav
ing arisen as to her sex. Frances was
a strong handsome girl, and mnuy were
tho remarks niadeaoout the "fine young
boy with tho rosy cheeks," hut no one
suspected the rosy cheeks belonged to As
heroic, sweet tempered girl, as good
as Uod ever made.
When their time was out In the 05th,
Frances and her brother enlisted lu the
00th HUuoIb, and ho was killed while
she was taken prisoner by the rebels at
the battle of Chattanooga. She was
fighting with her regiment when a shot
from the enemy hit her in the calf of
one her limbs and knocked her down.
Frances fearing the discovery of her sex
more than any thing else, made every
effort to escape, but was too badly
wounded, and was finally overhauled by
the rebels and captured. She had got
cut off and was lost when captured ; go
ing to the rear of the rebels Instead of
toward the Union lines. She had
changed parts of her uniform and hid
in an outhouse or old barn. When tak
en she was suspected of being a spy, and
was conducted at once to one of the re
bel generals. The rebels who had cap
tured her wished to search her person
fur papers, but in this she resisted so
strongly and begged bo hard to be taken
to headquarters that her wishes were
finally complied with. The rebel Lieu
tenant, on presenting her to his com
manding officer, said :
" Here Is a Union soldier who was
captured under peculiar circumstances
and is suspected of being a spy. I or
dered him to be searched for papers, but
he said he would rather die than have
that done, and begged so hard to Bee you
I thought I would bring him to you and
receive your orders in the case."
" What does this mean?" said the
rebel General looking hard at the lithe
and handsome young soldier.
" It means General," said the brave
girl, " that I am neither a spy nor a
man, but a Union girl who has been
serving In the ranks with her brother,
and who has unfortunately been wound'
ed and captured. I was afraid of your
soldiers, and feared if they discovered
my sex I might receive ill-treatment or
be taken for a spy. I am now in the
presence of a Confederate general, whose
position assures me he 1b as honorable as
he is brave, and who will respect and
protect a poor unfortunate girl."
The gallant rebel General rose from
his chair and lifting his cap,said respect
" You are right ; you are safe here.and
shall have the best care and treatment
we can afford."
Frances who had strained every nerve
to keep up, no sooner heard the assuring
word of thehrave General than she felt a
dizziness coming over her ; her counte
nance became deathly pale, she stagger
ed and fell to the floor in a swoon.
The General had her carried to a house
near by, and sent his staff surgeon to
dress her wound. Frances was badly
hurt, the ball having passed through
the upper part of tho calf of her leg and
severed some of the tendons. It was
delicate task attending the fine Illinois
girl and dressing her wound, but Fran
ces was cheerful, and having a robust
constitution, recovered rapidly and was
soon walking about.
Jeff. Davis, who has always been a
gallant man and a great admirer of the
sex, heard of Frances' story and at once
seut her a letter, saying he would see
she had a home with good people In the
South, and asking her if she had rela
tives North and where they lived. She
replied thanking the Confederate Presi
dent for his kind words, aud said, "I
have no home, no relatives, now thnt
my brother has been killed ; hut I pro
fer to be what I have been, a soldier for
the Union, and ask that I may soon he
exchanged, so that I can fight ngalu for
the Stars and Stripes." Frances was
soon exchanged and attempted to rejoin
her regiment, but was not permitted to
do so. Miss Hook Is described as being
rather tall for a girl, had dark hazel
eyes, brown hair, rounded features and a
great deal of color in her checks. Her
eyes were bright and her voice soft and
musical. She was dellcato and refined,
both In appearance and deportment.
Every one who saw her In female attire
wondered how It was possible that they
could ever have mistaken her for u boy.
THE DUTCHMAN'S TELEPHONE.
I GUESS I haf to give up my dele
phone already," said an old citizen of
Gratiot avenue yesterday, as he entered
the office of the company with a very
" Why, what's the matter now ?"
" Oh 1 efery tings. I got dot dclephono
In mine house so I could speak rnlt der
poys In der saloon down town, and rnlt
mine relations in Sprlngwells, hut I
haf toglf It up. I never huf so much
" Vliell, my poy Shon, lu der saloon,
he rings der pell und calls me up und
says an old frent of mine vhants to see
how she works. Dot ish all right. I
say; 'Hello I und he says; 'Come
closer.' I goes closer and helloes again.
Den ho says; 'Bthand a little off.' I
slhand a little off und yells vunce more,
und he says; 'Shpeak louder.' It goes
dot vay for ten minutes, und den he
says: 'Go to Texas, you old Dutchman
"And den mine brudder in Spring
wells he rings de pell und calls me up
und says bow I vhas dls earnings t I
says I vhas feeling like some colts, und
be says: 'Who vhants to puy some
goats V I says: 'Colts colts colts !'
und he answers: 'Oh! coats, I thought
you said goats.' Vben I goes to ask
him if he feela petter I hears a voice cry.
lngoudt, Vhat Dutchman ish dot on
dls line!' Den somepody answers:'!
doan' know, hut I likes to punch his
head!' You see V"
" Vhell, eomedlrues my vhife vhanls
to Bpheak mit me vhen I am down in
der saloon. She rings mine bell und 1
says, ' Hello 1 ' Nopody spbeaka to me,
She rings again, und I says ' Hello 1
like dunderl Den der Central Office
tells me go aheadt, und den tells mine
vhife dot I am gone avhay. I yells out
dot is not bo, und somebody says ; ' How
can I talk if dot old Dutchman doan
keepsthllll' You see?"
"And vhen I geU In pedt at night,
somepody rings der pell like der bouse
vas on fire, und vhen I schumps oudt
und says hello, I hear somepody saying;
' Kaiser, doan' you vhant to puy a dog t '
I vhants no dog, un vhen I tells 'em so,
I hear some beoblea laughing : ' Haw,
haw, haw !' You see V
" Und so you dake it oudt, und vhen
somepody likes to spheak mit me dey
shall come right avay to mine saloon,
Oof my brudder ifch sick he shall get
pedder, und if somepody vhants to puy
me a dog, he shall come vhere I can
punch him mit a glub I"
Rasping a Ruffian.
H TYEADWOOD," said the stranger
XJ putting down his half-eaten slice
of lemon pie and taking a long pull at
the milk, " I went there when the first
ru&h was made for the bills. Rather
rough crowd the first lot, you bet ; more
wholesome now. When 1 got there 1
was dead-broke didn't have a dollar,
didn't have a revolver. I was prob'ly
the only man in the hills, who didn't
carry a firearm, an' I wan some lone
some, I tell you. The only weapon I
hed I am a blacksmith was a rasp, a
heavy file, you know, 'bout eighteen
Inches long, which I carried down my
Imek, the handle In easy rca-sh just
below my coat collar. One day I
hed n't been In Deadwood more'n a,
week I was slttln' in a 'loon only,
dace a man kin set to see any society
when a feller come in, a reg'ler hustler,
with his can full and a quart over. Hed
a revolver on each side of his belt an'
looked vicious. Nothln' mean about
him, though. Askt me to drink. 'Not
any, thank you,' sez I. 'Not drink with
met Mel Bill Featherglll ! When I
ask a tenderfoot to drink I expeot him
to prance right up an' no moukeyln'l
You h-e a-r me?"
" Well, when his hand went down for
his revolver, I whipped out my old file
qulcker'n fire 'ud scorch a feathea an'
swiped him one right acrost the face.
When he fell I thought I'd killed him,
an' the s'loon flllln' up with bummers I
sorter skinned ont, not knowln' what
might happen. Furty soon a chap In a
red shirt came up to me. 8m he, ' You
the man as ke-arved Bill Featherglll?.'
Cos, of so be as you are, ef you don't
want every man In the bills to climb
you, don't you try to hide yourself the
boys Is askln' fur you now.'
"It struck me that my friend had the
Idee, so I waltzed back and went up and
down before that a'loon for nigh three
hours. I'd found out Bill wasn't dead
an' was bad medicine; but It wouldn't
do to let down. Purty aoon I seen my
man a-headln' for me. Ilia face had
been patched up till It looked like the
closing out display of a dry goods store.
There was so little countenance exposed
that I couldn't guess what he was
a-almin' at, so I brought my hand back
of my collar an' grabbed my file.
" ' Hold on there ; hold on,' sez he,
gimme y'r Land, I'm friendly. I've
got nothln' agin you, not a thing, but
you'll pardon my curiosity what sort
of a weepon was that, stranger?' "
A Strict Officer.
IN the year 1B02, when the army of the
Union was filled with citizen-soldiers
unaccustomed to strict army regulations,
a regular army officer as a commander
was very much dreaded by the volun
teers. Colonel C , a regular army
officer, was assigned to the command '
of the brigade I waa In, and, after being
subjected to hia strict rules as to duty,
we felt that there waa reason to dread a
regular. We soon learned, however, to
love and respect our commander. One
of the first incidents related in camp
that led ua to think favorably or our
Colonel waa the following :
A soldier of my regiment had captured
a six-weeks-old pig, and had been him
self captured by the division provost
guard. General W , who command
ed the division, sent the soldier, under
guard, to Colonel C , with a verbal
order that he be sent to hia regiment
and severely punished. The guard did
as ordered. The Colonel sent the guard
back from whence they came, and the
soldier stood in the presence of the
Colonel, expecting the worst The
Colonel said :
"Where in h 1 did you get that
" I stole it down the road there at a
farm house," replied the soldier.
" Any more there ?"
The Colonel arose, took the pig from
under the soldiers arm, and, looking at
it, said, "Go and steal another one,
d n you; I will keep this one."
HfSpare moments are the gold dust
of time. Young, wrote a true as well as
striking Una when be said, "Sands
make the mountaintnd moments make
the years." Of all portions cf our life,
spare moments are the most fruitful of
evil. They are the gaps through which .
temptations find the easiest access to
the garden of the soul.
0-The darkness of death is like the '
evening twilight ; it makes all objects
appear more loving to the dying.