The mountain Democrat. [volume], October 31, 1863, Image 1

About The mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.) 1863-1943

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VOMJME X. I
THS BWHTA1N DEMOCRAT.
rCtUMBXD Ifllf teATCBBAT ITOBfffirtr. rt *.
sl(W ioxa a* ia»o**t
.. •»«"-_ '■ *•
Tdfi M; M^lthl,
•* u “ c * r
‘sasaKSmarji i »ra^rssw2i
Mflirrn*; >■>•• Carde. of 10 Um or tea,
* ”-.krS« a lltenl iteMvii win Im uk oe Ike
ter leart; u. VHWll ad.teti.~teU tUck
rn«"rlin«T!*0—-0« OBee I. relate wltk >11 tk> teodrr.
r , ,_,a, ter Ik* iia, raw -urw dona r 1 Mellon of
S PRINTING. nek u Be*., ratepklne. Brief.,
•*., tkmej mUnI taki.
lr .ncU' BLAMM. —AMaviu, rafertakinc* »•«* Wrlcsef
aJbAiL*. mM*!** M« l"«.tar »'*•& UiT Ofiot; ate*.
DartTir — •* HwiUnC U* most «»rc*te»t for»
£~ giagBffiig
wThotkat la (k> etl. >f Saa rrmacl.ro. All order, for
o llnlUii tefl wllk kla will be pcotepllj at-
IteMk.
te n BROmttelke eatkerlted Airmtaflka DRMOCRAT at
Owin'. - . Order. ter lk« paper, adrenlilo., or for job
£2t?MlwHk kite. wOlbe proapll; auaadad u.
ra.. • jaCKSOB 1. tko aetknrlMd A grot of the MOO
ril* BCMOCAAT .1 *1 Doted. Order, ten with khte will
ipM-pOT nteteded -.
■ 3 klO LAM A3 1. ear awtherlted Meetel Sarriteelte.—
"ill «daSlkr adrarttelai. ale., ten wfih aim wfll raee.ee la
sedlate apatite
AIL. Mai la agetel ter tka Dueocur at Tlrrlala Clip,
Mated. Teciteary.
COL. W«. «*Il>awra*tkerlted>«eat at Orlnlr Flat -
ill erdn. pleaw Ua ter Ike Dteteal will be protepOj at
tended te-
OMcd, n Coloma Street.
frofcMtonal Carts, Etc.
BIS/. 8IIBWOOD,
ITTOEKrT-AT-lAVf,
PlAcerrine, ■ Dorad. Coanly, California.
0«(» »IHIT*» B»w»|(y<uin). Main »t
*“ THOS J. OHQON.
aiioinit-at.lav,
II Dorado, n Dorado County. fma17
T. A. HOBSBLOWER,
attoikit aid counsellor at law,
Wlltpraetieo In All th« OoorU of the lllh Judicial
Dlitrlot- OrnCB—At Pilot UUl, B Dorado Coan
1,. mmyl* 8m
B. W. gaansaaoa, Gao. E. H'lumo.
BAHDZBSOV * WILLIAMS,
ATTO EN EY S-AT- LA W.
Otter—DooflAM* Building, next door to U» Carp
Hoax', Mala at ml, Pla-erTlIle. dtc «
O. W. GORDON,
ATTOIIIir- AY-LAW,
TWala Clf, I. T. Ottce la OoUlaa' Baildinc,
B.atrnt. {nor**
A. O. PEA HUE,
ATTOIBIT AT LAW,
Oflee la Deuglaai'Building (up-etalra), Main atml,
PtneerrHle.
MM Sm*
joxn Haiaa a- c. at-oas.
HTTMB St 8LOSS,
ATTOimi-AT-LA*,
Og« in City Block, Placcrrillr.
Will practice Law in the Count of El Dorado and
adjoining Couatiaa—in the Supreme Court, and the
Courta or Utah Territory. m!9
Q d’ HALL, O. TALE.
Piactrciiu, .5<la FmneiKO,
Praotlee Law la all tka Courta of Utah.
OAcee, at Caraon and Virginia City. jeSO-tf
M. K. SHEARER,
ATTOIIET AID COUNSELLOR AT-LAW, AID
NOTAHY PUBLIC.
IWOSif, at Beaidence. Main atrect, three
do.re above Bedford Avenue, Placer, illr. aulO
~ B. B. CARSON,
KOTABY PUBLIC AND CONVEYANCER,
ABB
Commissioner of Deads for Nevada
Territory,
OBae la the Coart Hoaee, PlaocrrUIr.
[norltf ]
Boohs, Stationery, Etc.
~W M. BRADSHAW,
BOOKS, STATIONERY,
VARIETIES,
CIGARS AND TOBACCO,
Pwstoflice Block, Klain Street,
placebville.
ALSO—Agent for all the leading European, Allan
tic and California Papers and Magaainea.
UP" HEW BOOKS receired by crerjr Steamer.
augtS W. M BRADSHAW.
PLAZA BOOK STORE,
PLACERVILLE,
Haa juat recelred a aplendid aaaortment of
■Standard and Miscellaneous Works,
‘8TATIONEBY, SCHOOL BOOKS,
«IVT BOOKS, ALBUMS, CTTLKBT,
TOTS, BOLD PKfl, Y10LIBS,
out tabs, AOooannoxB, ncuo books,
BOM AM 8TBI NOS, BTC., BIO.,
Selected expressly Mr theConntry VM«, tad selling
at grextly redoeed rates. Also,
A.QIN T B
For Sacramento Union, Aha California, Bulletin,
Mirror, eto.
NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICALS
kept constantly on hand, and sold unusually low.
oct4 R. 8. HERNANDEZ.
&
S. HARRIS,
Corner of Jfat a Strut and the Plata,
' rti OBMVIt.Lt,
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALER IN
UaTaaaClgari, Tobacco, Books, Sta
tlOMary, Cutlery, Playing Cords,
Yankee Notions, Fnatts, Green
aadDrled, (all and Caudles,
at sax vaaaettoo nucas.
Also, receive. by every Steamer the latest Atlantic
, Magaainea sod Pertodl
0ALIP0RN1A NKWSPA
aad Enrnpaan Mearapapan, Mag ax
aali, and all tka WEEKLY 0ALIFO
PEES sod MAGAZINES.
octt
-ASSAY office.
COPPER,
SILVER,
AND GOLD ORES
CAJUEFTrLLT ASSAYED I
A. C. AavIOSSOK,
tapflO Mala Kraal, PlacerrUIe.
THE MOUNTAIN DEMOCRAT.
PLACERVILLE, EE DORADO COUNTY, CALIFORNIA, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 81, I8«3.
THE HAD SAVANT.
* J»»i take a look in here before you go,
my dear Bnglish friend, at No. 45; it is a
curious case; and presently over our wine
in the balcony I will tell you the story,’
said Dr. Frochot, the famous mad doctor
of Berlin, to me, with professional sang
froid. The doctor, as he spoke, laid aside
the little round piece of brass that hid a
glazed aperture in the wall, and then took
an elaborate pinch of snuff, while I looked
through it into the cell of No. 45. It was
a small bare room, with no furniture but
a trestle-bed, one chair, and a small tri
angular table.
At this table sat a tall, thin, gray-haired
man, with a vacant, care-worn face, who
was busy countings heap of those round,
prismatic pieces of glass that are used as
ornaments to chandeliers. Having count
ed them some twenty times over, he pro
ceeded to breathe on each of them, and
then, one by one, to rub them, and hold
them to the light.
Suddenly he rose, drew himself to his
full length, struck his forehead, as if he
was in pain there, or as if some momen
tary flash of reason had tfghted up his
mind, then gave a loud shriek, and fell in
a swoon upon the floor.
I replaced the brass slide with an invol
untary sigh. ‘He has swooned; should
he not have help, Dr. Frochot f ’ said I to
my friend the mad doctor.
‘No ; he is often so,’ replied the imper
turbable doctor; ‘he will be better when
he comes to. We never visits patients
but at regular hours. If we were always
visiting patients, what time should we
poor doctors have for ourselves?’
Some ten minutes later, the doctor and
myself were seated in the balconv of one
of the pleasantest houses in Berlin,watch
ing the little heart-shaped leaves of the
lime trees waver and flutter in the street
below, as we smoked our cigars and sipp
ed our Hochheimer. It was a quiet street
in the suburbs, and that part of the bouse
where the patient was confined was far
away from us, and separated from the
quarter that the doctor inhabited, by a
large garden, and thus no groan or shriek
could reach us
A pale, fat man, a recovered patient,
waited on us, and the children from time
to time ran out to us, laughing and shout
ing, from the inner rooms. As it began
to get dusk, and the air grew cooler, and
the first star spirklcd over the General
Graufenclau's house opposite, the doctor,
planting one foot on the upper ledge of
the balcony, and resting the other on a
china garden seat, began his story :
Yon most know,my dear English friend,
that in 1812 —that is to say, just eighteen
years ago—I, then a mere lad, accompa
nied the French army to Russia. I was
surgeon in Davoost’s corps, and was often
in the Emperor’s tent. No. 45 —then a
well known astronomer in Berlin — was
also with the Grand Army, having been
expressly commanded by Napoleon to
make observations on the climate of Rus
sia, and to record its variations. His
name was Krautzcr. and he was well
known at that time in Berlin as an acute
observer of great industry and sagacity,
but of an envious and avaricious spirit,
that had led him to waste much time in
alchemic pursuits, which he had finally
abandoned in disgust, only to give himself
altogether up to place hunting and money
making.
We knew each other by sight, and I
frequently saw him both during the ad
vance and the retreat. The story I tell
you is partly from my own knowledge,
and partly from the mouth of his intimate
friends, many of w hom were acquaintan
ces of mine.
But let me delay for a moment, my dear
English friend, to recall the glories of that
vast army of three hundred thousand men
that crossed into Russia.. Only yesterday
an old country woman was brought to see
me, who had beheld that army pass her
cottage. She described Napoleon as sit
ting on her small table, alternately con
sulting his maps, and cutting huge slices
from a loaf that lay on the table. All his
marshals were round him, and all.day the
troops moved past the doorway in dusty
columns. ’ i
The country girls were peeping in at
the window, to catch a glimpse of the Em
peror. ‘Why do you look at me?’ he said
good naturcdly to onfc of the prettiest,
chucking her under the chin as he spoke.
‘I am a poor little fellow. Look at these
fine tall fellows,’ (pointing to Davoustand
Murat.)
The old woman who tolJ me this bad a
head that kept nodding with the palsy ;
and it took one years back to fancy her
young, graceful and pretty. But that lit
tle story recalled to my mind how out
army looked when we arrived at Gjat,
just before the affair at Borodino.
We all know what happened then.—
The Emperor rose at three in the morn
ing, called for a glass of punch, sent Rapp
for the reports, and transacted business
with Berthier till five; then mounted on
horseback, and ordered the drums to beat
and the trumpets to sound. ‘It is the en
thusiasm of Austerlitz,’ he said as he rode
forward, and the troops began to cheer.
We lost ten thousand men, the Russians
fifteen thousand. But a few days after,
the Russians retreated, and we advanced
straight on Moscow.
I dare say you have read a dozen times
about this famous battle, but I cannot re
sist-pardon an old soldier—briefly re
minding you of its chief points. The Rus
sians were in a strong position, strength
ened by field works; their right flank
rested on an intrenched wood ; a brook
running through a deep ravine covered
their right wing; from the village of Boro
dino the left extended to Lemonskoic, an
other village, protected by ravines and
thickets in front, secured by redoubts and
batteries ; while in the center, on an ele
vation, rose a double battery, that com
manded the whole line.
Davoust wanted to turn their left, but
Napoleon thought the plan too dangerous.
Poniatowski therefore attacked their right
and center ; while Ney tried to storm the
redoubt in the center; and Prince Eugene
broke into Lemonskoie. If Napoleon had
brought up his reserve of the Young
Guard, the Russian retreat would have
been a rout'; *fld if Davoust had got in
their rear, Kutusow would have been un
able to have retreated on the capital.
Ma foi l those peasants in the gray
frocks, nrged on by their bearded priests,
with their painted images, fought like
Turks, and would take or give no quarter.
With near twenty thousand men wound
ed, and thirty generals hors de combat,
you may imagine I had a busy time of it
the day after the battle. I was the chief
dodtor in the great conreitto/ Ho/otshoi,
where our wounded were brought We
bad no lint or anything, and our hussars
had to scour the country for linen and
beds.
I was up to my waist in legs and arms;
and at night, when I went out to take a
breath of fresh air,as tired as any butcher
on market day, the groans from that vast
building rose as from a dying giant
On the night of the lltb, Napoleon be
ing uncertain whether the Russians had
taken the road to Moscow or Kalouga,was
informed by Jewish spies that Kutusow
had really fallen back on tbe capital. The
next morning we were to advance on
Krymskoie. We were all in high spirits,
even tbe poor wounded cheered faintly
when I reported the news in the hospital.
That same night, as I-was walking round
the bivouac fires, just to observe how the
soldiers took the news, I came upon a
singular group near a clump of firs, at the
east end of the convent garden. There
was Krautzer, whom I knew perfectly by
sight, and a Jew spy, tormenting an old
Russian peasant, who knelt before them.
They had each got a lighted brand, and
were, I suppose, going to torture him into
some sort of confession.
Two or three soldiers, in their bear skin
caps and gray greatcoats, were leaning on
their muskets, and laughing as they no
ticed them. The Jew was a lean, haggard
man, with a dry, thin, wrinkled face, and
withered eyes that looked cur
rants.
As he stood there in his greasy caftan
and dirty boots, drawn over his trousers,
1 thought he might have passed muster
for the very spirit of Avarice himself.
'Burn his beard off, great sir I’ I beard
him say to Krautzer; ‘1 tell you he knows
all about the Rostopchin Palace.’
‘And the celebrated Rostopchin jewels?'
said Krautzer, eagerly.
•Yes, everything. He was steward’s
man to the prince, and knows all the fam
ily secrets.’
Then he held his torch close to the eyes
of the wretched peasant, who shrank into
a heap, and screamed for mercy.
'Burn his fingers off!’ cried the Jew.
‘Mercy I mercy I and I’ll tell all,’ cried
the peasant. ‘All the finest jewels are
kent in a machite cabinet, under the floor
of the third bedroom to the right, on the
third story, as you go up the grand stair
case.’
‘He’s lying,’ said the Jew ; ‘my great
sir, burn bis toes off—do burn his toes
off!’
I was going to interfere, and had indeed
spoken to Krautzer apart, much to his in
dignation, when an old soldier came up,
and striking the Jew with the but-end of
his musket, told him with an oath not to
ill-treat the Russian.
‘We owe them a turn,’ he said, ‘and we
will singe them with our cannon; but once
prisoners, brave men should be merciful.
Now, then, old Muscovite, run for your
life, and no Jew or savant shall hurt you
while I've a cartridge left. I've got an
old father home in Auvergne just your
age. Go, mon enfant’
The old Russian did not probably un
derstand a word the old moustache said to
him, but he saw that Krautzer and the
Jew were restrained by some one or other,
and he saw the wood to which the grena
dier pointed. That was enough. a
moment he blundered through the lire,
and ran off as hard as his old legs could
carry him; and as I returned to the hospi
tal, hearing the soldiers’ laughter, I look
ed back and saw the Jew, nose on ground,
slealing like a blood-hound on the track
of the old Russian. But I thought no j
more of it. Hard work drove all other 1
thoughts out of my mind, and I had my I
large family, my twenty thousand men, i
to look after.
At sunrise, on the 14th of September, |
the vanguard reached a hill called the
Mount of Salvation, and where the pil
grims kneel and pray before entering tbe
holy city.
•Moscow ! Moscow !’ cried a hundred
thousand voices. The steeples and gilt
domes shone in the sun ; the huge, trian
gular Kremlin, half palace, half citadal,
rose above the trees.
As I stood among the crowd, I heard
two harsh voices at my elbow. One said:
‘Where—where is it?’ The other re
plied :
'That is the Rostopchin Palace there
among the trees, to the left of the Krem
in, by the Kollomna Gate. Alt will soon
be ours, now.’
I looked round; it was Krautzer and
that miserable spy, the Jew. They were
evidently thinking of tbe Rostopchin
jewels.
‘Monsieur Krautzer,’ I said, ‘have you
not heard that Marshal Mortier has for
bidden all pillage ?’
‘I suppose we may take keepsakes,’ he
replied. ‘But to what do you refer?’
‘I was thinking,’ I replied sternly, ‘of
the malachite cabinet in the Rostopchin
Palace.’
‘A peasant’s lie,’ said Krautzer, pale
with anger and confusion, as he spurred
on his horse and joined the vanguard.—
That man had but one thought now. The
Jew ran by his stirrup. How or where
he had picked up this man, or what com
mon interest brought them together, I
never could learn. *
Presently news came that two hundred
and fifty thousand inhabitants of Moscow
had left the city. It was ours. No one
was left in Moscow but old beggars and
thieves, and we entered the city soon af
ter noon.
While others sought the Kremlin or the
bazaars, the churches or the cafes, I em
ployed myself in selecting a fit place for
the wounded to winter in.
When I had made my arrangements
under the guidance of a Cossack officer,
a prisoner, I stopped at a great gateway,
next door to our new quarters, and cour
teously asked to what splendid palace
that led.
'That is tbe rich Rostopchin Palace,
Frenchman,’ said the surly prisoner, ‘and
contains furniture worth half a million of
rubles, all left for your Corsican’s plun
der.’
‘We are no thieves,’ I said, ‘Marshal
Mortier, the new governor of Moscow, is
ordered, on pain of death, to prevent aU
uUImms,’, .
‘Ha P says he, '‘look 'there; they have
begun already.' -
I looked up to where he pointed ; there
were two men tearing down some shut
ters, and thrusting their beads out of a
window on the third story. I looked; it
was Krautzer and that accursed Jew.—
They were evidently in full cry after
those Rostopchin diamonds.
* Take charge of this officer,’ I said to
the picket of grenadiers that accompa
nied me, 1 and wait below. I have busi
ness here.’ «
‘ Another of Marshal Mortier’s robbers,’
muttered the Cossack; but I did not deign
a reply.
I leaped through the shattered door,
and in a moment was up the stalquise.—
That moment a gun was discharged, and
a bullet shivered the balustrade that my
hands rested upon. I drew my sword,
and ran into a room on the third story
where Hie door eras open.
I stumbled over a still smoking musket.
There, in the half-lit room, with light
streaming through the broken shutters,
were Krautzer and the Jew, bending over
a hole in the floor, from whence they had
removed twoe layers of cedar planks and
much plaster and fresh earth. There,
between them, was the malachite cabinet
—the forced-off lid carefuily replaced.
I was in a furious rage at the attempted
assassination. *1 don’t know which of
you it was that shot at me,’ said I, 1 but
one of you it was. If it was this accursed
Jew—whom I already know to be a spy,
and half suspect to be a murderer—I will
kill him od the spot. If you, Monsieur
Krautzer, I shall report you to Marshal
Mortier.’
‘ I know what you want,’ said Krautzer
sullenly, looking up. 1 Don't swagger.—
You want your share ; well, then, here,
take itand so saying, he threw off the
lid of the malachite cabinet, with a hide
ous grin of triumph. It was empty; its
velvet-lined recesses still bore the impress
of tiara9, carcanets, chains and bracelets.
‘ You see we were too late; other men
had the fruit, and left the shell for us.—
As for the shot, we took you for a stray
Russian, and being here alone, feared vi
olence: For that shot, a thousand par
dons, my dear doctor; but pray, keep
this casket as a small remembrance of
Moscow.’
I left the room with a curse, dashing
the malachite box to pieces with a kick of
my foot, and saw no more of Krautzer
and his Jew for many a day, although I
heard a rumor that he had undertaken,
for several thousand rubles, to convey
bnck to France a Russian lady of rank,
whose husband had been taken prisoner
at Wilna and sent to the Temple. I nev
er knew a man so transformed by a lust
for wealth as that Krautzer—fame, sci
ence, honor, had all been sacrificed to
that Moloch.
That night, our ruin began—the Rus
sians fired Moscow,the flames first break
i ing out in the coachmnkers' warehouses.
From that moment, the Emperor knew it
was all over with him. The fatal retreat
soon after began.
Every day, matters grew worse and
worse. When one morning, on the 6th
November, at Dorogobuj, the first snow
flakes fell, as large as half-crowns, the
Russian prisoners smiled bitterly,for they
knew well what was coming. From that
day it grew worse and worse—thicker
and thicker; and the Cossacks skimmed
round us like Arabs round a plague-struck
caravan. As Segur grandly says in his
I great work : ‘ In the vast wreck, the ar
my, like a great ship tossed by a tremen
! dous tempest, threw into that vast wel
1 tering see of ice and snow all that could
impede its progress.’ First, plunder,
guns, ai;ms, powder, shot; and then, the
wounded, the women, the sick, sutlers,
; prisoners, standards. At the convent of
. Kolotskoi, it went to my heart to find
thousands of my poor wounded dead,and
j the rest, whom we could not move,crowd
| ing to the door, lame and bandaged,
! stretching out their arms, and praying us
i to take them with us. There was no ford
; but some wagons and guns were aban-
I doned at it; ..no storm but Cossacks
, swept off some miserable stragglers; no
i bivouac fire lit but in the morning some
of our wretched soldiers were found dead,
with their feet half-burned off, and their
hair frozen to the ground.
Pounded corn and horse-flesh fiad grad
ually been superceded by birch bark and
sawdust loaves. The Emperor gave or
ders to destroy one-half of the wagons,
so as to use the horses and draught-oxen
to help to forward the artillery. Many of
the cavalry,by the time we reached Stud
zianka—and many even of the Sacred
Squadron, the five hundred officers who
formed the bodyguard of the Emperor—
were dismounted. Some of our men had
their bleeding feet bandaged with rags,
to replace their worn-out shoes. There
were generals wrapped in women’s pelis
ses. All discipline was rapidly going.
Duiing the retreat, I had frequent
glimpses of Krautzer, who was always
followed by the Jew. The day we left
Moscow, I had seen him riding beside the
sumptuous carriage that contained the
Russian lady of rank whom he had un
dertaken to convey to Paris. A day or
two later, when we halted at the Lake of
Semelin, to throw into it the ancient ar
mor, cannon, the great cross of Ivan, and
other trophies of Moscow, the carriage
had disappeared, and Krautzer and his
charge were both mounted on horses.—
There was no sun visible, and the thick
fog suddenly changed into a heavy snow,
that blew around us, and almost blinded
the soldiers. Emaciated, dirty and un
shaven, our men already had begun to
look more like hungry brigands than
Grenadiers of the Grand Army. It was
on this day that the Emperor himself
dismounted,seized a musket and marched
at the head of the Old Guard, to encour
age them. When I shut my eyes, I can
see him now, with the stern, gripped
mouth, and the broad, white forehead,
over which one tress of black hair fell.—
I was riding quietly along with the van
guard, wrapped in thought, when one of
my assistant surgeons tapped me on the
shoulder, and pointed to Krautzer.
‘ Look at that man, Monsieur Frocbet,’
he said; ‘observe how his holsters are
stuffed out. The soldiers tell me they
are full of jewels that he stole from a pal
ace in Moscow. Parbleu I I would give a
hatful of diamonds myself to be safe in
the Boulevards.’
‘ And look at that poor woman, coma
radss,’ said a grenadier from the ranks—
1 how frightened she is of him ; they say
he beats her if she lags behind, he so
fears the Cossacks. Brute! I should like
to put a bullet through him.’
’ And hers comes the Jew that never
loses sight of him,’ cried a third fellow,
with a red rag round bis forehead—' fol
lows him like a weasel does a wounded
rabbit. I’d shoot tbst Jew if he followed
me so. Ugh I how this snow blows in
vycss*
Worse and worse; you could trace our
march by long lines of snow hillocks, the
graves of our unhappy aoldiers. Four
days from Smolensko, where we hoped to
get food, I saw the poor Russian lady ri
ding in a sutler’s wagon, the next day on
a gun-carriage. The day after that, I met
her walking, with almost bare feet, cling
ing to an old soldier, who had taken com
passion on her ; her hair was dishevelled,
her rich dress had turned to rags. A
day before we reached Smolensko, I came
upon her body among a heap of camp
followers who had been speared by the
Cossacks. The snow already had partly
covered her. I stopped for a moment,
and even in the cruel selfishness of that
terrible retreat, covered her face with
some Snow. Poor woman, at last her
sufferings were over; she was beyond the
reach of pain, sorrow and hunger. As
for that wretch Krautzer, he, intent on
saving his plunder, was riding hotly on to
Smolensko, hoping to be the first to reach
the ovens, where the Jews were baking
bread for the army. At the sight of
Smolensko, with its half-burnt walls and
dismantled towers, hope once more revis
ited our hearts, we waved our flags and
bayonets and hurried headlong to the
ovens.
I found an infuriated mob of soldiers
besieging the doors of the bakehouse
where rations were to be distributed.—
Alarmed at their menaces, the frightened
Jews were handing out the lumps of un
baked dough. Hundreds of bayonets
were tossing in the air, muskets were dis
charging, and here and there men were
actually fainting with hunger on door
steps, within arm's-length of the crowd,
all order and discipline were gone, and
amid a group of infuriated men screaming
for bread, officers were seen clamoring as
loudly as the meanest camp-follower.
Foremost among these, more cowardly
and more importunate than any, I beheld
Krautzer; he was mounted on a strong
artillery-horse, and the well-stuffed hol
sters were still conspicuous objects on his
saddle. He was breasting his way to the
front among the cursing soldiers, and the
Jew was clinging to his stirrup-leather.—
His arms were up in the air entreating
for bread, and the bayonets were all
around him before and behind, and on
the right hand and on the left, so that he
could not move them either up or down.
1 Shoot the Savant I’ cried a drummer
on whom his horse had trodden; 'soldiers
first, Savants after. Why didn’t he fore
see the bad weather ?’
‘ Bread, bread, accursed Jews 1 Bread,
dear Jews!’ screamed Kraotzner, alter
nately wheedling and threatening.
‘ Bread,or we'll slay every Jew 1’ shout
ed the soldiers, tearing the dough to
pieces as the Jewish bakers threw it in
great luippg among them, fierce as sharks
fighting for a bait.
I was about four ranks off from Krautz
er, and was waiting patiently for my turn,
when my attention was drawn to the Jew
at the Savant's side. He was bending
down and evidently cutting at the Sa
vant's holsters, with a thick, 6harp knife.
I was fascinated with the sight; so fasci
nated that I lost all thought of giving the
alarm; though amid the war of four or
five thousand hoarse voices, it is not pos
sible that any alarm I could have given
could have reached him. Suddenly I saw
the holsters slide off, and the Jew stoop
down and crawl under the horse's belly,
and winding through the crowd, disap
peared down a side-alley.
* I think,’ said I to an officer hext to
me, ‘ that a Jew has robbed that man in
front of' him. I saw him cut off his
holsters.’
‘ Aha 1’ said the officer; ‘this is no time
to look after thieves. Here, Jews—bread,
breajl; I’m starving! Bread, Jew, or I'll
fire my pistol I’
Presently from the ravenous crowd
Krautzer emerged, devouring a huge
lump of dough, tearing it with his bauds,
and cramming it in huge morsels into his
mouth.
‘Is there more to be got, Monsieur
Krautzer?’ I said.
‘ I don’t know or care, said the wretch;
1 it is every one for himself now. I’m off
to Wilna.’
At that moment, Krautzer’s eye hap
pened to fall upon his saddle ; he saw that
his holsters were gone. He turned pale
as a corpse, then suddenly his eyes kin
dled with the fire of incipient madness,
and he drew his sword and advanced up
on me.
‘Villain! thief! it is you,’ he cried,
‘ give me the jewels, or I’ll cut you to
pieces.’
‘ Put up that sword, fool,’ I said, ‘ or
I’ll shoot you down as I would a Cossack.
It was that Jew that cut off your holsters
and ran down that lane.’
The sword fell from Krautzer’s hands ;
his eyes rolled in their sockets ; he flung
his arms, rose in his stirrups, gave a
ghastly scream, and then sank into a half
paralysed heap on the saddle, and rode
slowly off, down the lane 1 bad pointed
out.
From that hour, the Savant’s reason
failed him ; that shock had stricken him
to the brain ; his conduct became gradu
ally more and more wild and raving. He
rode up and down among the ranks of the
vanguard, like a madman, seeking for the
Jew, calling his name, threatening him
with death, praying him to take half the
jewels, and surrender the rest. At last,
raving, and threatening a general with his
sword, Krautzer was arrested and sent to
the rear with the sick. It was then I
was sent to see him, and pronounced him
mad.
I need scarcely remind you of the hor
rors of the Beresina, when about thirty
thousand of our soldiers perished. I,
however, passed my wounded over early
in the day, and escaped safe to Wilna.—
Krautzer has been with me ever since,
the Prussian Government paying for bis
support. He will never recover ; his
brain is softening; I give him two years
longer to live.
The rascal Jew was never again heard
of; but a year or so after my return, I
happened to see an advertisement in an
Amsterdam pacer, announcing the sale of
some valuable jtowels, diamond brooches,
saphire necklace, and tiaras—’rarest wa
ter,’ ‘greatest lustre,’ Ac.—the property
of Moses Levi. The next paper contained
a paragraph stating that the jewels pre
viously advertised bad been bought in by
one of the leading jewellers of Paris for
the Rostopchin family, to whom it bad
been discovered they belonged, having
been stojen during toe time the French
Moscow. These were the fatal jew
els for which KnurUer had committed so
many crimes.
Thanking the doctor for bis interesting
story, I rose to go, for it was getting late.
As he opened the front door for me, a
tali, pale, thin woman, clothed in black,
glided into the bouse and passed into the
porter’s room.
‘ There,’ said the doctor, ‘behold a proof
of the imperishability of woman’s love I
Talk of asbestos—talk of granite; that
poor woman, twenty years ago, was en
gaged to be married to KraOtzer. She
visits him every day, and has done so for
years. He does not know her, nor care
for her visits; still she comes. Have an
other cigar to smoke going home? You
won’t? Very well. Good-night’
••Good >■ Wheat.”
In the State of Tennessee there is a cer
tain village boasting of a tavern, three
stores and four groceries, where, from
morning till night, and from night till
dawn, a person entering the town may
find, in the tavern, stores or groceries
aforesaid, one or more groups of persons
playing cards. Gambling there is re
duced to a science, the History of Four
Kings is thoroughly studied, and from
the schoolboy to the greyheaded veteran,
from the miss in her teens to the mother
of a large family, they are initiated into
the mysteries of high, low, jack, game,
right and left bowers; the honors and the
odd trick. One of the best players in the
village was Major Smith, the tavern keep
er, or, as he expressed it, the proprietor
of the hotel—a widower, who like
“Jeptba, judge in Israel,
Had a daughter passing fair.”
Fanny, the daughter, was one of the pret
tiest girls in Tennessee. The sweetheart
of Miss Fanny was a young farmer resi
ding in the neighborhood, whom we shall
designate by the name of Bob. It hap
pened that one day before harvest the
young man was detained in the village,
and night found him as usual at the ho
tel, seated between the Major and his
daughter. After a desultory conversa
tion between the two gentlemen-on the
weather, the prospects of the approach
ing harvest, and such important staples
of conversation, the Major asked Robert
how his wheat crop promised to yield.—
In reply he was told that the young farm
er expected to make at least one hundred
bushels. The Major appeared to study
for a moment, then abruptly proposed a
game of old sledge, or “ seven up,” the
stakes to be his daughter Fanny against
the crop of wheat.
This of course tho young man indig
nantly refused, because he could not bear
the idea that the hand of her he loved
should be made the subject of a bet, or
that he should win a wife by gambling
for her; and perhaps because he knew
the old man was “ hard to beat,” and
there was a strong probability ofhislose
ing both wife and wheat It was not un
til the Major, with his usual obstinacy,
had sworn that unless he won her he
should never have her, that the young
man was forced reluctantly to consent to
play. 9
The table was placed, the candles lit,
the cards produced, and the players took
their seats, with Miss Fanny between
them to watch the progress of the game.
The cards regularly shuffled and cut,
and it fell to the Major's lot to deal. The
first hand was played', and Robert made
gift to his opponent’s high, low, game.—
Robert then dealt, the major begged ; it
was given, and the Major again made
three to his opponent’s one.
“ Six to two," said Miss Fanny with a
sigh.
The Major, as he dealt the cards—
winked knowingly, and said :
“ I am good for the wheat,Master Bob.”
The old man turned up a trump—it
was a spade. Fanny glanced at her fath
er’s hand—her heart sank ; ho held tho
three, eight spot, and king! She then
looked at Robert’s hand, and lot he held
the acc, queen, deuce and jack or knave.
She whispered Robert to beg; he did so.
“ Take it,” said the Major.
Robert led his deuce, which the Major
took with his three spot, and followed by
playing his king; Robert put his queen
upon it The Major, supposing it was
the young man’s last trump, leaned over
the table, and, tapping the last trick with
his finger, said:
“ That’s good as wheat.”
“ Is it ?" asked Robert, as he displayed
to the astonished Major the ace and jack
yet in his hand. “ High, low, jack, gift
and the game!” shouted Robert.
“Out!" ejaculated Fanny.
“ Good as wheat!” added Robert, as he
fiung his arms around her neck and kissed
her.
Langiaok. —Language is the amber, in
which a thousand precious thoughts have
been safely imbedded and preserved. It
has arrested ten thousand lightning flash
es of genius, which unless thus fixed and
arrested, might have been as bright, but
would also have been as quickly passing
and perishing as lightning. Words con
vey the mental treasure of one period to
the generations that follow ; and laden
with this, their precious freight, they
sail safely across gulfs of time, in which
empires have suffered shipwreck, and the
languages of common life have sunk into
oblivion.—[Trench.
A tall, herculean Gascon, astride up
on a wretched pony, encountered, as he
rode over a bridge, a richly dressed cava
lier mounted upon a noble steed, Salu
ting the horseman, the Gascon said to
him : “ I will bet you ten golden pieces
that I can do with my horse wbat you
can’t do with yours."
“ Done," said the cavalier, whereupon
the Gascon dismounted from his misera
ble hack, and taking it up ia bis arms,
threw it over the battlements into the
river, thus winning his wager, to the
great discomfiture of the owner of the no
ble steed.
A steamboat coifiirig up from Vicke
burg the other day, a soldier stepped
aboard on the way, and asked for a free
passage. The Captain agked, “ wbat ia
your rani in (he army, air ft* “ I’m a
private in tbe Third Kentncky, sir."—
“ Give me your hand, for d—d if
you ain’t the first private I have seen for
a month.”
IVUIBEB 44
An orphan girl, wpbjai fis Arnffisg
TnxuriMmfMMiNfiaMr
• very thin partition
was often occupied by an itfnenst fiddler.
A benerolent lady took bar ooder bar
care, and she became bar aenraat fTirmi
years afterwards, whoa aha was still hi
this family, beautiful music was baarfi ia
the night time, which waa at length tetai
to the bedroom of this girl 8be was
found to be fast asleep, but rigging ia a
tone exactly resembling the sweetest
sounds of a small violin.
Another remarkable case is recordedoa
the authority of a highly intelligent ahr
gymaa. A girL bis servant, was grasttt
addicted to talking in her sleep; and it
was found that in tbis way she passed
through all tbs transactions of the day,
and that she repeated everything she had
said in its proper order. Her tone and
manner were changed to anit the circum
stances of the different occasions on which
she had spoken. She often roes in her
sleep, and followed her usual
end at length passed into a state of con
tinued unconsciousness to external things.
She was aroused more than once from
that condition, but was subsequently re
moved home. She recoveredln several
weeks, and her peculiarities gradually dis
appeared.
Van Horen mentions a student who
talked in bia sleep, and began every night
exactly at the same point where he bad
left on on the preceding night. A con
tinuous and connected dream was ths
topic of bis nocturnal ramblioga. This
affection continued about three weeks.—
Combe refers to Major Elliott, Professor
of Mathematics in the Military Academy
at West Point. A young lady of culti
vated mind had an attack of somnolency,
and when she came out of it all her ac
quired knowledge had vanished. She ip
plied herself to rudimentary (todies, and
was regaining her lost acquirements whan
a second attack of somnolency occurred.
She now at once recovered bar lost knowl
edge, but remembered nothing of what
had passed in the interval between the
two attacks. A third attack again re
duced her to the state of ignorance in
which she bed been after the first, and fat
this manner she passed through these al
ternate states for four years, retaining in
one state all her original knowledge, and
in tho other only that which abe Bad ac
quired since the first attack. Thus, in
one condition she wrote beautifully, whila
in the other her penmanship was poor.
Aiunr Tbixvino. —Thieves appear to
abound in every department of tha mili
tary service. One Doctor Howe, who
has been, for some time in charge of tho
military hospital stores at Memphis, baa
been detected as a sydbmatic thief Ha
belonged to Fair Haven, Illinois, to whieh
place he had been observed to be sending
all kinds of packages at every convenient
opportunity, until finally It was thought
best to inquire into bin movements. An
officer was sent to his residence in Illinois,
to mike an exploration.—The result waa,
a fine haul of costly medicines, surgical
instruments, wines, brandies, some forty
pairs of fine army blankets, and nnlimfr
ted quantities or other government pro
perty. The shoulder-strapped thief was
then arrested. He will doubtless be court
martialed and sent to the penitentiary.—
Alas! bow many just such fellowsbare
put on the garb of patriotism to cloak
their thievish propensities, while they
raise the cry of " copperhead” and “trai
tor” against honest loyal citizens who
have the independence to speak their
minds upon the great questions which in
volve the destiny of the government and
the people.
Ths Rev. Mr. Con wav, who went to
Europe as agent of the abolitionists, hav
ing been drafted, has paid his commuta
tion money, instead of manfully standing
his draft. It is said also, that Wendell
Phillips Garrison, a son of William Lloyd
Garrison, has done the same thing.—
“ Now,” says the Troy Whig, a conserva
tive Republican paper, “ let them gat out
their bogles and blow another war blast
for other people. Catch these fellows
exposing their miserable 6kins to the bal
lets 1”
Tux Doctor Knows.—An amusing
thing occurred in the 14th Ohio Regi
ment. A few days since s soldier, in
passing to the lower part of the encamp
ment, saw two others from his company
making a rude coffin. He inquired who
it was for.
“ John Bunce,” said the others.
“ Why,” replied he, “ John is not dead
yet It is too bad to make a man’s coffin
when yon don’t know if he is going to
die or not”
“ Don’t you trouble yourself,” replied
the others. “ Dr. Coe told us to maka
his coffin, and I guess he knows what ho
gave him."
OewnrcT.—f wiH govern ray Hfe, and
my thoughts, as if the whole world were
to see the one, and read the other; for
what does it signify, to make anything a
secret to my neighbor, when to God (who
is the searcher of all our hearts) all our
privacies are open T”
“ Billy, how did you lose your flngert”
“ Easy enough," said Billy. “ I suppose
von did, but how T” “ I guess you’d
have lost vourn If it had been where mine
was." “ don’t answer my question
“ Well, if you must know," said Billy,
“ 1 cut it off, or else steal the trap.”
“ Mrr Jones, have you got a match 1"
“ Yes, sir, a match for the old boy.—
There she is, mixing dough.” Jones
pointed to bis wife, and then slid from
the front door. The last we saw of him,
he was “ kiting ” it down the road hotly
pursued by a red-beaded lady with a as
tern pole. Poor Jones.
“ Uas 1 How do you miks out that
you are exempt, ebf”
“lam over age, I am a negro, q min
ister, a cripple, a British suueot and an
habitual drunkard.”
i r.. _n tiuiiH 7.:; iii _ 1T _ _ r __
land cbwTlately took up hU nMfjenre till '
on a peso, of land, his right towMebinM 1
ooo tested. “ I have an mdooMtal ttlla
to tha property,” ho nhasrrari. “asI ate -
the precedingowner.” „ ,
Alwats fight till you die—after feriafir 1
this five or six times, It is just as ito fe
anything elas, _