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The mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.) 1863-1943, November 07, 1863, Image 1

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VQU ME X. !
TmTiourfrAi* democrat.
»u »»■ * ».«»«■ ——
rvtLttno it mi mtitbdat uotimta, bt
0> x,wio*» « JAHUABV
». w. »!•«■. *• *• «■»*■»•
Ml wa tvaBiaaLT n aavaaci—Oaa Tear, $5: Wi Moathi,
Three MoaUi., » 1 Mi On. Moatk (pajable u> the Car-
SM»a OM«, !»¥•.«-
a*TBBVl8lBO—Oaa Bqaare, of fOllbea, Bril Ineertlon, t.1;
ilk teaertloe, (I M; Botlae.. Cart., oflO lloe.
“ii », ear. Mi Buiaaaa CaMa. of 10 Uaa> at MM,
iSSwalMlM. a UborM M.ireafrlll boMtOeoa Mo
ikon ratal Mr yoarlj aad qaanerlj aOrertlieiaeau wklch
(IcW< j || t iqnrt.
JOB rBIBTIIMJ.-Oar OBtaa b raptMa alth all Ike taod.ro
* iM.t.rove«ienw for the »«at, ckbat abd a*rn> execution of
•Vrr»*»TU*< FtIJiTISO.iccbM Mk>, Pamphlet* Hrlef*.
pmutw SwadtHU. CtrewlBr*. BallTtekem. Pro*r*«»f«. < er
tlBeato* of Stock or Depoelt, Billhead*, Check*. Receipt',
cEaTu** -to.. lap£k.ertoaey rotor* Uto*.
er»TlCK8' BLANKS.—Affidavit*. Codertaklag* and Wrlt*of
* Attachment. aad«r the bcw law. for aa'eat thl* Office: al*o,
DKkntito»ef Home***, the •o«o*b>mxii form
Jiaat printed, a complete form of MINER* nHM>.
Alto, a b*BBtlf%Ily-«Becnted MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE.
a rn pisHER.No. 171H Washington *treet, opporttr M**nlrr'*
JperB Hnu*e, !• Uto ®b!tauthorised Agent for tbBMOCNTAlN
• IQIOCIAT, In the eltj of Ran Prmocl*ro. All ordT* for
the Paper or AdvertUlag lefl with him will be promptly at
traded to.
ST H. BROWN to the bo th or l ted Agent of the DEMOCRAT at
Georgetown Order* for the paper, advertising. or for Job
vork, left with him. will be promptly attended to.
CRAfl F. JACKSON to the authorised Ageat of the MOrN
TAIN DEMOCRAT at K1 Dorado. Order* left with him will
he promptly attended to.
H J BIDLFKAN ta oor author!** agent at Sacramento.—
AP order* for advertiaing, etc.. left with him will receive im
mediate atwwttoa.
A. H. L. t>IAS l* Bgont for the at Virginia City,
Nevada Territory.
CM- WM. KNOX t* ewr author! rod ageat «t Orifrly Plat-
All order* ft Ten hhm tor the Demecnt will be promptly at
tended to.
Oflee t BB CBtoma Street.
professional Carts, £tc.
benj. 8HEBWOOD.
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW,
Placerullle, El Dorado Count?, California.
Office— Dorter's Building (op-stalr«), Main »t
[mmitf ]
THOS. J. OBGON,
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW,
El Dorado, El Dorado Count?. (mal?
' V. A. HORN BLOWER,
attorney and counsellor at law,
Will practice In all the Cnnrla of the ltth Judicial
District. OKnCE —At Pilot 11IU, El Dorado C.,uu
ma?17-3m
9. W. Rauonuo.o. Om. L WiLii.ua.
SANDEHSON ft WILLIAMS.
ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW.
Office—Douglaes’ Building, next dour to the Ciry
House, Main street, PU^eruilia. due C
O. W. OORDOB,
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW,
Ytrgtat* Citj, N. T. Oftre la Collins' Duildlnc,
B. street. (oo>-2»
A. C. SUABLE,
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW,
ORre in Douglaaa' BoiMing (iip-»talr«), Main -trout.
Piaccrvdlu.
fobM
jour in-Ha it- c. sum.
HUME ft BLOBS,
A T T O K N E Y S - A T - I. A W,
Office in City Block, Placuruillr.
Will practice Lao in tl,u Court* of LI Dorado and
adjoiningCountica—in the Supreme Court, and the
Courta of I'tak Territory. m!9
~oTd. HAT»I», O. YALE,
PUlctrxille, Sin Pranrieco t
Practice Law la all the Courta of Utah.
Office*, at Carton and Virginia City. je30-tf
M. K. SHEARER,
ATTORNET AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW, AND
NOTARY PUBLIC.
%W* Office, at Residence. Main street, three
door* aboie Bedford Auenue, Placer- ille. aulO
E. B- CARSON,
NOTARY PUBLIC AND CONVEYANCER,
axp
Commissioner of Deeds for Nevada
* Territory-
Office In the Court House, Placcrvlile.
[novltf]
Boohs, Stationrro, Etc.
W. M. BRADSHAW, I
rm*
— DKftLCE I3C —
BOOKS, STATIONERY,
VARIETIES.
Cl OARS and TOBACCO,
PottaHee Block, Bain Street,
PLACERVILLE.
ALSO—Agtut for all the leading European, Atlan
tic and California Paper* and Magazines.
&r NEW DOOK8 received by every Steamer,
augti W. II BRADSHAW.
PLAZA BOOK STORE,
PLACERVILLE,
Haa ju*t received a splendid asaortment of
Standard and Xiicellaneons Works,
STATIONERY, SCHOOL BOOKS,
GIFT aOOM, ALBUMS, Cl’TLF.BT,
TOTS, GOLD PM**, VIOLINS,
criTAits, ACCoaDEoas, iujic booi»,
HOMAN 8TEIMG*, BTC., NIC.,
Selected ezpreaaly for the Country Trade, and selling
at greatly reduced ratea. Also,
AGENTS
For Sacramento Union, Alta California, Bulletin,
Mirror, etc.
NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICALS
Kept constantly on hand, and sold unusually low.
ocU R. S. HERNANDEZ.
,4&
S. HARRIS,
.Corner of Main Street and the Plata,
rLiCIIMLLI,
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALER IN
H»au Clgari, Tobacco, Books, Sta
tionery, Cutler?, Pla?lsg Cards,
Yankee Notions, Fruits, Green
-and Dried, Nuts and Candles,
AT BAS ratSCISOO PRICES.
Also, metres b? erer? Steamer the lsteet Atlantic
and European Newspapers, Msgasines and Periodl
lPKR8tt>d ? U -- th *- W * ;£KLV CALIFORNIA NEWSPA
PERS sad MAGAZINES.
ocU
ASSAY OFFICE.
COFFEE,
SILVER,
AND GOLD ORES
CAREFULLY ASSAYED I
A. C. ARVID8SON,
Main street, FlacerviUe.
THE MOUNTAIN DEMOCRAT:
PLACEKVILLG, EL DORADO COUNTY, CALIFORNIA, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1863.
THE GIPSY’S PROPHECY.
An Austrian officer,Baron Von W—
who served in tbe fast war against the
Turks, in the Szekler Hussars, resided a
few years at A . He took delight in
speaking of the various extraordinary
events which occurred in the of
his campaigns. The following story is
given in the words in which the baron
himself related it:
In the spring of the year 1788, I set
out from Miclos-Var, in Transylvania, for
the purpose of conducting some recruits
to my regiment, then stationed in the
neighborhood of Olsowa. In a village
near the army lived a tlipsy woman, who
followed the trade of sutler. My new
soldiers, who were very superstitious,
asked her to tell them their fortunes; I
ridiculed them, and, laughing heartily,
presented my hand to the fortune teller’
•The twentieth of August!’ said she to
me, with a significant look, and without
adding a syllable. I wished foran expla
nation, but she repeated the same words;
and as I was going away, she again cried
out to me, in the same tone—* The twen
tieth of August!’ It may easily be con
ceived that this date was impressed upon
mv memory.
We reached the army, the fatigues and
dangers of which we shared. It is gene
rally known that in this war the Turks
took no prisoners. Their officers set the
price of a ducat upon each head brought
to the camp. The Janissaries and Spahis
neglected no opportunity of earning this
reward. This arrangement proved par
ticularly fatal to our advanced posts.—
Scarcely a night passed but the Turks
came in superior numbers in quest of
heads. The excursions were conducted
with such secrcsy and dispatch that they
were seldom unsuccessful, and often at
daybreak trie camp was found guarded
only by headless trunks. The Prince of
Coburg determined to send every night
strong pickets of cavalry beyond the line
of videttes, to protect them. The pick
ets were composed of from one hundred
to two hundred men ; but the Turkish
General, enraged at seeing his people dis
turbed at their trade, dispatched still
stronger detachments against our pickets,
which precured them a much larger prof
it. The' service of the pickets thus be
came so dangerous that when a person
was sent upon it lie arranged his affairs
before he set out.
Such was the- state of things in the
month of August Some actions had n< t
changed the position of the army. About
a week before the twentieth, the liipey
woman, of w hom 1 had often purchased
provisions, made her appearance. She
entered my tent, and entreated me to
leave her a legacy in ease I should perish
on the day she had predicted; and utfe-red
to engage, in case I should survive it, to
make me a present of a basket of Tokay
wine. This w ine ri very rare in the ar
my. I thought the woman sidy. In
my profession a speedy death was by no
means improbable ; but I bad no reason
for expecting to die precisely on the 2Uth
of August. I agreed to her proposition ;
I wagered two horses and fifty ducats
against the old woman's Tokav wine, and
the auditor of the regiment, not without
smiling, committed our agreement to
writing.
The 2uth of August arrived. There
was no appearance of hostility. It was
the turn of our regiment to furnish a pick
et for the night; but twoof my comrades
were to precede me. The evening came,
and as the hussars were about to depart,
the surgeon announced to the general
that- the officer appointed to the picket
had fallen dangerously ill. The officer
who was next in turn before me was or
dered to take bis place, lie hastily dress
ed himself, and prepared to join bis men,
but his horse, a good tempered and fine
annual, suddenly reared, and at length
threw his rider, who had his leg broken
by the fall. It was now tny turn. I set
out, but, I confess, not in my usual good
spirits.
I commanded eighty men, and was
joined by one hundred and twenty be
longing to another regiment, making in
ail two hundred. Our stations were
about a thousand paces in front of the
right wing, and were supported by a
marsh covered with very high reeds ; we
hap no sentinels in advance, and none of
us dismounted. We had orders to keep
our sabres drawn and carbines loaded till
daybreak. All was quiet for an hour and
three-quarters, when we heard a noise
and shouts of ‘ Allan!’ ‘Allah!’ and in
an instant all the horses of the front rank
were overthrown, either by the sudden
fire or the shock of from seven to eight
hundred Turks. They lost as many on
their side, both bv the impetuosity of
their charge and the fire from our car
bines. They knew the ground perfectly
well; we were surrounded and defeated.
They often fired at random. I received
many sabre wounds, as well from friends
as foes; my horse was mortally wounded;
he fell on my right leg, and kept me down
upon the bloody sand. The Hashes of
pistols threw some light upon the carnage.
I looked up, and saw our party defend
themselves with the courage of despair ;
but the Turks, intoxicated with opium,
made a horrible massacre; there was soon
not a single Austrian but was extended
on the ground. The conquerors seized
the horses which were yet serviceable,
plundered the dead and wounded, and
then cut off their heads and put them in
to sacks, which they had brought ex
pressly for the purpose. My situation
was not very enviable. In the Szelkler
corps wo were pretty well acquainted
with the Turkish language: 1 heard them
urge one another to finish before assist
ance arrived, and not to leave a ducat be
hind, adding there could not be fewer
than two hundred of us; hence it is evi
dent they were well informed. While
they passed and repassed over me—while
legs, arms and balls flew over my head in
all directions, my horse received another
wound, which caused him to make a con
vulsive motion. My leg was disengaged,
and I immediately determined, if possi
ble, to conceal myself among the reeds of
the marsh. I had seen several of our
men taken in the attempt to do so; but
the fire had considerably slackened, and
the darkness inspired me with hope. I
had oniy twenty paces to'go, but w as ap
prehensive of sinking in the mud. I,
however, leaped over men and horses,and
upset more than one Turk. They extend
ed their arms to seize me, and cut at me
with tbeir sabres; but my good fortune
and agility enabled me to reach the
marsh, where I sunk no deeper than my
knee. In this manner I proceeded about
'ttwAj ~ice» among the reeds, when I
stopped, overcome by fatigue. I heard a
Turk cry out, ‘An infidel has escaped ;
let us go in quest of him!’ Others re
plied, * He could not have gone into the
marsh.’ I know not bow long they re
mained, but I heard no more ; I fainted
from the loss of blood, and continued in
sensible for several hours; for when I re
covered my faculties the sun was already
high.
I was immersed in the marsh up to my
hips; ray hair stood on end when I re
collected the occurrence of the night, and
the 20th of August was one of my first
thoughts. I reckoned eight sabre cuts
on my amis' breast and back, none oi
which were dangerous. As the nights in
summer arc cool in that country, I wore
a very thick pelisse, which had deadened
the blows. Nevertheless, I was very
weak. The Turks had long since depart
ed. I heard from tirno to time the groans
of the wounded horses—as to the men,
the Turks had disposed of them.
I immediately detertgined to extricate
myself from the place in which I then
was; and in an hour I succeeded. The
track which I had heforo made served to i
direct me. Although a war against the |
Turks blunts all sensibility, I felt an emo- \
tion of horror, all alone as I was, when I
looked out from among the reeds. I ad
vanced, the field of carnage met my eye,
but how can I describe my terror on feel- j
ing myself suddenly seized by the arm !
I beheld an Arnaut, six feet high, who, i
doubtless, had returned to see if there >
was not still something worth picking up. ;
Was ever hope more cruelly disappoint- i
ed ? I addressed him in the Turkish lan
guage : ‘Take my money, mv watch, my
uniform, but do not kill me !’
* All these belong to me,’said he, ‘ and
your head into the bargain.’ He imme- j
diately took off the cliin-cloth of my bus- i
sar cap, and then my cravat. I was un- ■
armed and, consequently, could not de
fend myself; at the least motion he would
have plunged his cutlass into my breast.
I clasped him round the body in a sup- [
plieating manner, while he was engaged ,
in laying my neck bare. ‘Take pity on
mu!’ said 1 to him; iny ‘family is rich ; '
make me your prisoner; you shall have a ■
large ransom.’ * f should have to wait
too long,’ replied he ; ‘ be quiet, that I !
may cut off your head!’ lie had already '
taken out the pin of my shirt. I, how
ever, still clung to him; he did not oppose '
it, doubtless, because he confided in his j
strength and arms and also from a slight
feeling of pity, which in truth could not
outweigh the hope of a ducat. As he '
pulled out my pin, 1 felt something hard
in his girdle—it was an iron hammer.—
He again repeated, ‘Be quiet!' and these
would probably have been the last words
I should have heard, had not the horror
of such a death impelled me to snatch the
hammer; he did not observe it; heal-!
ready held my head with one hand and 1
his cutlass in the other, when, by a sud- ;
den motion, 1 disengaged myself, and
without losing an instant, struck at his 1
face with the hammer, with all my force. !
The blow took effect; the Arnaut stag- !
gered— I repeated it, and he fell, at the j
same time dropping his weapon. I need (
not observe that 1 seized it, and plunged :
it into his body.
1 now hastened towards our advanced I
posts, whose arms I saw glittering in the I
sun. The men tied before me as from a
spectre. The same day I was seized with J
a violent fever and conveyed to the hos- j
pital. In six weeks I recovered and re- !
turned to the army. On my arrival, the I
tiipsy brought me her Tokay wine; and
I learned from others that, during my
absence, several precise predictions which
she had made had been verified, which
procured her consultations and legacies,
t his was very extraordinary. {
Some time afterwards we were joined
by two soldiers of the enemy, Christians
from Servia, who had been employed in 1
the baggage dopartment,and bad deserted
to avoid punishment for some fault. As
soon as they saw our fortune-teller they
recognized her, and declared that she of
ten came at night to the Turkish camp
to apprise the enemy of our movements.
This information greatly astonished us,
as this woman had often rendered us im
portant services, and we even admired
the address with which sho executed the
most dangerous commissions. The de
serters, nevertheless, persisted in their
story, and added that they had several
times been present when she described
our position to the Turks, discovered to
them our plans, and urged them to make
attacks, which had in reality taken place.
A Turkish cipher served her for a pass
port. This convincing evidence being
found upon her, she was sentenced to
death as a spy. Previous to her execu
tion, 1 interrogated her respecting the
prediction she had made respecting me.—
She confessed that, by being a spy to
both parties, she bad procured a double
profit, as she had often learned what was
in contemplation on either side; that
those who secretly consulted her respect
ing their future fortunes had confided ma
ny secrets to her, and that she was under
some obligations to chance. As to what
concerned me particularly, she had se
lected me to make a striking example, for
the purposo of establishing her reputa
tion as a fortune-teller, by predicting so
long beforehand the term of my life.—
At the approach of the period, she had
excited the enemy to attack the picket of
our regiment on the night of the 20tn of
August. From a conversation she had
with our officers, sho learned that two
were to precede me ; she sold to the one
adulterated wine, which made him sick ;
as to the other, nt the very moment he
was about to set out, she approached as
if to sell him something, and contrived to
introduce a piece of burning sponge into
one of the nostrils of his horse.
True to tub Letter.— Hon. George S.
Hillard, of Boston, in a recent letter, says
if the war is to be diverted from the pur
pose declared in the Crittenden resolu
tions, “ for the purpose of conquest or
subjugation, or overthrowing or interfer
ing with the rights or established institu
tions of the States,” then the party at
tempting such diversion becomes a revo
lutionary party, and is no longer entitled
to the confidence of the people. This is
precisely what the Administration party
is doing. Its leaders and organs declare
that slavery must be abolished and the
South subjugated before they wUlUsteu
to any proposition for peace.
Froaiitfic LMta HhftnUd Neva.
The Revolution In the United States*
At the very outburst of the great civil
war by America, it was predicted that the
attempt of the North to subjugate the
South—whatever might be the effect upon
the seceding States—would inevitably lead
to the overthrow of Northern liberty. A
huge debt, an immense standing army,
and a centralized Government were all
necessary to the prosecutiQn of a scheme
so stupendous ; and that the Republican
freedom, of which the Americans were al
ways so ready to boast, could co-exist
with these, was so manifestly impossible
that the best friends of the North were
those who most earnestly deprecated the
war. But the desire of the Northern peo
ple for the unity of the Republic— to be
maintained at all hazards and at any sac
rifice—was then, and is now, so passion
ately unreasonable as to have blinded
them to all the consequences of the strug
gle-consequences alike fatal to the digni
ty, greatness and happiness of the North,
whether it fail or succeed in its object.—
Twenty years ago, when the disruption of
the Union was publicly discussed, as not
only among the probabilities but the cer
tainties of the future, the most eminent
Americans of both sections were of opin
ion not only that the separation would be
peaceably effected—like the dissolution of
a partnership that has ceased to be cither
agreeable or profitable—but that would
be for the advantage of all concerned.—
The South imagined that it could success
fully carry on a system of government
based upon the patriarchical model; and,
while enriching itself and taking care of
its negroes, solve the problem of labor
without entailing the chronic pauperism
that curses it in the old world, where the
aged and worn-out laborer has no claims
upon those who employed him while he
was young and strong. The North, on
the other hand, not only looked upon dis
ruption without disfavor, but continually
threatened it, in order by that means to
free itself from the stigma of slavery which
it had neither the right nor the power to
abolish. So recently as the election of
Mr. Lincoln the best minds in the North
were of this opinion. Even Mr. Seward
—all his life an opponent of slavery—pro
claimed officially, as Secretary of State, in
circulars to his ambassadors, to be com
municated to foreign powers,that coercion
of the South was a policy alike suicidal
und unconstitutional. Mr. Everett, form
erly Minister to the Court of St James,
declared the same sentiments. Mr. Hor
ace Greeley, of the Tribune, one of the
ablest und most honest leaders of the Abo
lition and Republican party, was in favor
of letting the South depart peaceably as
the best means of restoring the purity of
tiie tlag which, while it was a Hag that
protected slavery, he had declared to be
“a Haunting lie” and “a polluted rag,"
unworthy to be unfurled in the free sun
shine.
Had this prudent course been adopted,
the North would have escaped a mountain
of debt and national bankruptcy, a stand
ing army, which will of necessity trample
out its liberties, and that maximized form
of Government which is but another name
for despotism. Possibly, too, if this poli
cy of masterly inactivity' had been pur
sued. the South, after a short probation of
independence, might have found it to be
its interest, for commercial and other rea
sons, to sue for re-admission into the fed
eration from which it had withdrawn; and
the Union would have been restored with
out the eqkindliug of hateful passions, or
the shedding of a single drop of blood.
But this was not to be. A whirlwind
of excitemcnfaro.se. The Northern peo
ple were carried away by it, and nothing
would satisfy them but the subjugation of
their brothers. One by one the prudent
statesmen, such as Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Sew
ard, Mr. Everett, Mr. Greeley, and others,
became infected with the madness of the
crowd. The voice of reason was silenced.
The sword was made the arbiter of ques
tions that no sword can decide. Battle
succeeded battle, with no other result than
the slaughter of hecatombs on both sides
—battles that settled nothing, and only
proved the martial valor of both peoples.
And w hat a scandal it was that two such
brave combatants should not have learned
that the subjugation of either was impos
sible. For two years the North has been
in this impasse. Sometimes losing, some
times winning, it is at this moment as far
off as ever from the accomplishment of its
designs. The South, with no advantages
except that of “immortal hate,” which is
a better provocative of vulor than all the
wealth and bounty-money in the world,
has maintained the contest with a heroism
that has carried men’s hearts captive with
admiration ; and the North, with every
thing on its qjde—riches, numbers, com
mand of the sea, and possession of the
legitimate Government—finds itself in an
undertaking which all the true friends of
liberty, in every part of the civilized earth,
except in Washington, consider to be ut
terly hopeless.
But, while the North has done little or
nothing to end the war, it has done much
to end its own liberty'. The Government
established by George Washington has
ceased to exist. The Constitution founded
by the fathers of the Republic has been
abrogated on the plea of military necessi
ty, and can never again be restored. Mr.
Buchanan was the last President of the
United States. Mr. Lincoln is the Presi
dent of a geographical division and of a
sectional party. Martial law prevails eve
rywhere, except in New York, New Jer
sey, the six little States of New England,
and remote California, too distant to suffer
by or take any interest in the illogical and
murderous conflict. In all other portions
of a broad domain, the discretion of a Pro
vost Marshal, or a blundering dragoon,
suddenly converted into a dictator, super
sedes all law. The Courts arc powerless.
The press is under a surveillance stricter
than that of France or Austria. Men are
torn from beds at midnight and consigned
to a military prison, without intervention
of judge or jury, or the speculation of any
real or supposed offense. In contraven
tion of the fundamental laws of the Fed
eration, and of every State that comprises
it, a forcible conscription of the young
men has been ordered; and the project of
the utter destruction of the sovereign
rights of the States—the abolition of local
parliaments and their reduction to the po
sition of English counties, or French de
partments—is openly avowed by the or
gans of tho Administration, and strenu
ously advocated as the only means of pre
venting a new secession, and the breaking
up of tbe North and West into half a do
zen or more Republics. The public debt
is known to amount to four hundred mil
lion pounds sterling; and is suspected, on
sufficient reason, to be fifty per cent in
excess of this frightful sum. Everywhere
are to be found tbe elements of disorder
and anarchy ; and everywhere the easy
going people, the sordid traders, the mer
chants, the professional men—everybody,
in fact, who desires to grow rich in a coun
try where nothing but wealth is held in
esteem, where public virtue is a scoff and
genius the target of contemptuous unpop
ularity—arc calling out for a “ King Gov
ernment,” as the one thing needful. Tbe
“King Government" will come. The wiy
is prepared for it. The new election for
President s ill be the rfwtiiw ti x> Dicta -
tor, carried on, perhaps, under the forms
of the law, but with armed soldiers at
every polling place, to take care that tbe
choice of the soldiers be, or seem to be,
the choice of the people* One thing, per
haps, might even yet save the liberties of
the Northern people—peace and a com- •
inercial alliance with the South. But the
Government, deficient in generosity as in
intellect, is powerless to make the offer.
The President is as obstinate as a Stuart,
and as conceited as a Bourbon. He learns
nothing from experience, and has neither
the sense to sec the right, nor the courage
to do it. Nor is there a single man in his
councils more sagacious or more patriotic
than himself. Alas, poor America!
— «« •
A Legend of the Cross.
An ancient legend, giving the history of
the tree from which the cross was made,
runs as follows :
For four hundred and thirty-two years
after his expulsion from Paradise, Adam
had tilled the grounds in the valley of
Hebron, when he felt his end approach
ing, and determined to send his son Seth
to the gates of Paradise, to demand from
their keeper, “ the angel called Cheru
bim," the oil of mercy which had been
promised fb Adain when he was driven
from the garden. Seth accordingly set
forth, finding his way by the footprints of
Adam and Eve, upon which no grass had
grown since they passed from Paradise to
Hebron.
The angel, after hearing the message,
ordered Seth to look beyond the gate into
the garden, and to tell him what he saw.
He beheld a place of inexpressible delight
and beauty, with the four great rivers pro
ceeding from a fountain in tbe centre;
and, rising from the edge of the fountain,
an enormous tree, with wide spreading
branches, but without either bark or
leaves.
lie was ordered to look a second time,
when he saw a serpent twisted round the
tree; and a third time, when the tree had
raised itself to heaven, and bore on its
summit a child wrapped in glittering vest
ments.
It was this child, said the angel, who
would give Adam the oil of mercy when
the time should come. Meanwhile the
angel gave Seth three seeds from the fruit
of the tree of which Adam had eaten.—
These were to be placed in the mouth of
Adam before his burial ; and three trees
would spring from them,—a cedar, a cy
press, and a pine. The trees were sym
bolical of the Holy Trinity, not only by
their number, but by the virtues which
belonged to each separately.
It happened as the angel had foretold.
The trees were hardly a foot above the
ground in the days oT Abraham. Moses,
to whom their true nnture was revealed,
took them up carefully, carried them with
him during the years of wandering in the
desert, and then replanted them in a mys
terious valley named Comfrafort (“ Com
fort," “ Consolation ?”) From Comfrafort
David was directed to bring them to Jeru
salem.
He planted them close to a fountain;
and within thirty years they had grown
together so as to form a single tree of
wonderful beauty, under the shade of
which David composed his psalms, and
wept for his sins.
In spite o( its beauty, Solomon cut it
down in order to complete his temple; for
which a single beam was wanted, of a
size such as no other tree could furnish.
But, in fitting the beam to its place, it was
found, after repeated trials, either too long
or too short; and the marvel was accepted
as a sign that it was not to bo so employ
ed. The miraculous beam, however, was
reverently preserved in the temple. A
certain woman, named Maximilla, one day
leant against it, when her clothes caught
fire, and she cried out in a spirit of pro
phecy—
“ Jesus Christ, thou son of God, help
me!”
The Jews, when they heard the cry,
took her for mad, and chased her from the
city—the first martyr, says the legend,
for Jesus Christ.
Thus far the more usual version. An
other, which has been followed in a stri
king Provencal narration, quoted by M.
Fauriel; asserts that when the tree was
found too short for the temple, it was
Hung aside into a certain marsh, where it
served as a bridge. But when the Queen
of Sheba came to Jerusalem to hear the
wisdom of Solomon, and was about to
cross the mursh, she saw in a vision how
the Saviour of the world was to be sus
pended on that tree, and so w ould not
walk over it, but forthwith knelt and
adored it.
It was afterwards, as all the versions
agree, buried in the earth, on the spot
where the Pool of Bcthesda was after
wards made ; so that it was not only the
descent of the angel, but the virtues of
the buried wood, which gave its healing
qualities to the water. At the time of the
Passion the wood rose and floated to the
surface. The Jews took it to make the
cross of our Lord.
Such is the remarkable legend which
has at least the interest of having been
very widely spread, and as having been
generally received as authentic. It would
be no easy task to trace the gradual steps
of its formation, or to mark the period of
its first introduction to Europe. The foot
prints of Adam, which left the ground
bare, are still pointed out on the summit
of Mount Gerizim.
. .. . ... —
Man’s feelings are always purest and
most glowing at the hour of meeting and
farewell; like the glaciers which arc trans
parent and rasy-hued only at sunset, but
throughout the day gray and cold.
■ 4
Tbe pleasure of doing good is the only
one that never wears out.
A Ptnin Story.
A ruffling young fellow married the
wealthy widow if a gnat Khan. On
the wedding night she determined to as
sert her authority over him. So she
treated him with great contempt when
he came into the ante room, and sat
luxuriously imbeded in'rose leaf cushions,
caressing a large white cat, of which she
perlended to be dotingly fond. She ap
peared to be annoyed by her husband’s
entrance, and looked at him out of the
corners of her eyes with a glance of cold
disdain.
“ 1 dislike cats,” remarked the young
soldier blandly, as he was making a more
casual observation; “ they offend my
sight.”
If liis wife had looked at him with cold
disdain before, her eyes now wore an ex
pression of anger and codtempt, such as
no words can express. She did not even
deign to answer him, but took tho cat to
her bosom and fondled it passionately.—
Her whole heart seemed to bo in the cat,
and cold was the shoulder 6he turned on
her husband. Bitter was the sneer upon
her beautiful lips. n, - • • ■>
“When one offends me,” continued
her gallant gaily, “ I cut off his head.—
It is a peculiarity of mine which I am
sure will only make me dearer to you.”
Then, drawing his sword, he took the cat
gently but firmly from her arms, cut off
his head, wiped the blade, sheathed it,
and sat down, continuing to talk affection
ately to his wife, as if nothing had occur
red. After which, says tradition, she be
came the best and most submissive wife
in the wo: Id 1
A henpecked fellow meeting him next
day, as he rode with a gallant train
through the market place, began to con
dole with him.
“ Ah,” said the henpecked, with deep
feeling, “ you, too, have taken a wife and
got a tyrant You had better have re
mained a poor soldier that you were. I
pity you from my very heart”
“ Not so,” replied the ruffler, jolily ;
“ keep your sighs to cool yourself next
summer.” lie then related the events of
his wedding night, with the satisfactory
results.
The henpecked man listened attentive
ly, and pondered long. “ I also have a
sword," said he, “though it is rusty, and
my wife is fond of cats. I will cut off
the head of my wife’s favorite at once."
He did so, and received a sound beating.
His wife, moreover, made him go down
on his knees and tell her what gain, or
evil spirit had prompted him to commit
the bloody deed.
“ Fool!" said the lady with a vixenish
smile, when she had possessed herself of
the henpecked’s secret, “you should have
done it the first night.”
Moral Advice is useless to fools.
• -<-♦♦ » ■ - -
Life Insurance.—An old fellow went
to get his life insured and gave the follow
ing account of his examination :
1 kum to the conclusion lately that life
waz so onsartin, that the only way fur me
to stand a fair chance with other folks,
waz to git mi life insured, and so i kalled
on the Agent ov the “ Garden Angel life
insurance Co.," and answered the follow
ing questions, which was put tu me over
the top ov a pair ov goold specs, by a slik
little fat old feller, with a little belly on
him as enny man ever owned :
Questions. —1st. Are you a mail or fe
mail ? if so, state how long you have
been so?
2d. Arc yu subjee tu fits, and if so, du
you hav more than one at a time ?
3d. What iz yure precisely fiteing
! weight?
4th. Did yu cvcfnav cnfi$ antestors,
and if so, how much ?
5th. What iz yure opinion ov the con
stitutionality ov the 10 commandments?
6th. Du yu ever hav enny nite marcs?
7th. Are yu married and single, or are
yu a bachelor ?
6th. Du yu beleave in a futer state ? if
yu du, state it.
9th. What are yure private centiments
about a rush ov rats tu the head, can it
be did successfully ?
10th. Have yu ever committed suicide,
and if so, how did it seem tu affect yu ?
After answering the above questions,
like a man, in the confirmatiff, (he slik
little fat old feller with goold specks on,
ced i waz insured for life, and proberbly
wud remain so for a term of years. I
thanked him, and smiled one ov mi moste
pensive smiles.
... ■- ...
The Illiterate Rogue. — A gentleman
passing late at night over the Pout Neuf
in Paris, was accosted by a polite and
j seemingly supplicant stranger, who asked
I him to read a paper which he had just
| picked up. The gentleman held up lan
| tern and couipled. The following is a
translation of the lines :
Speftk not a word when thin you’ve read,
Or in a minute you’ll be dead ;
Give up your money, watch and rings,
Or other valuable things ;
Depart then, quickly as you will,
Only reinenber silence still.
The gentleman thought it best to de
liver up his valuables as required.
The robber was afterwards recognized
by the person robbed, and arrested. His
identify was positively sworn to, and the
following confession was made by the cri
minal :
" My lords : I confess that on the eve
ning specified, 1 met this gentleman on
the Pout Neuf, and the transaction occur
red as he lias related it; but yet I am tar
from being guilty. I cannot read; I
picked up the paper and presumed it
might be of consequence. Seeing that
the gentleman bad a lantern, I begged
him to do mo tbe favor to read the paper.
He complied, and then to my surprise,
put his watch, rings and money into my
hand. I was so astonished that I could
not ask him what he meant, and supposed
that the paper was of great value, and
that bo had given me his money, rings
and watch to get rid of tne. Thus if any
one is wronged, it was I, and I hope that
justice will be done me.”
Justice, however, was not done the
rogue, for be was acquitted.
Plucky Fellows.— Tbe Boston Journal
published a list of nine hundred deserters
in the third Massachusetts district, a
strong Abolition region, and a reward of
810 each for their apprehension. They
are the drafted men, and before they were
drafted “ resolved to sustain the Govern
ment in its vigorous prosecution of the
war.”
OTMBtttaag
"A foreign merchant owned HjpfMt'Ati,
| who hid been robbed of aooie shawls,
was advised ta if pi/ to (be guuuAuiufcr.
| The viator told hist toga lidwlwpit
the merchant who bed wwlwd A* sto
len shawls, and there wait Bj-aod-bj his
highness passed on horseback in'
state. “ Ah, AH, is that yoof" saiatbe
viiier ; “ bow long hare you been herd f
Where are you stopping f I hope /Mi
mean to lodge with me ?" Then making
a servant dismount from one of hia finaat
horses, he requested Ali to ride with him,
and passed on to bis palace wham he as
signed rooms to his astonished go eat—
The thief shortly sfterwsrds came and
threw himself st the feet of Ali, and gave
up the stolen shawls with s handsome
present
The fact is, that if one man is unfor
tunate enough to owe money to another
who has more influence than his debtor,
the essential fact illustrated in the caw
above, the peace of the debtor’s life is
henceforth at an end. The creditor em
jdoys a terrible species of nightmare—a
Wailiff, who never leaves him night nor
day, and pesters him constantly by re
peating the demand in a sing song tone
of voice till the debt is paid. This sort
of torture is called sitting on a man. It
is a decree very frequently resorted to.—
A- Persian who considered that ha had a
claim on the British government once
found his way to England, and went to
the foreign office, taking bis carpet with
him, and determined to lie down before
the door untill he was satisfied. There
was some difficulty in getting rid of hipti,
with due regard to justice and good feel
ing.
No rank or position in life is beyond
the reach of the stick in Persia, and the
people really seem only to admire and re
spect those who hare the power and will
to use it I have seen a Persian minis
ter whose toe-nails bad been beaten off
by the shah, and whose feet was ao lacer
rated that they festered, and he was
obliged to keep his bed for Bix months in
consequence ; but he seemed to feel pa
anger, irritation or shame on the subject,
bat spoke of it without hesitation or re
serve. “ He is a very great king, the
shah I A wry great king, indeed 1” be
would say. “ Look at my feet I”
When Lady McNiell visited the royal
harem by invitation, a number of young
princes were at play in the apartments
of their mothers blindfolded. Lady Mc-
Niell inquired why the children were
thus blindfolded, and their mothers com
posedly replied that they were merely
practising to acquire dexterity,that in
case tbeir eyes should be put out when
they become men, they might be able to
walk about, and be less dependent in
consequence of this early training.
The King of Persia is called the “king
of Kings,” and “ the center of the world.”
He often concludes an official document
with the information that if the receiver
does not obey the command contained in
it, be shall have a kick from which he
will not recover in this world.
Absence or Mind.— Dr. Robert Hamil
ton, author of the celebrated essay on the
national debt of Great Britain, was es
teemed s profound and clear-beaded phi
losopher. After noticing the profodnd
science, the beautiful arrangement, and
clear expression manifest in his writings,
a writer in the New Monthly Magazine
goes on to say :
“ Yet in public the roan was a shadow
pulling off his hat to his own wife in the
streets, and apologizing for not having the
pleasant of her acquaintance; went to bis
classes in the college in the dark mornings
with one of her white stockings on one leg
and one of his own black ones on the oth
er; often spent the whole time of the meet
ing in moving from the table the hats of
the students, which they as constantly re
turned; sometimes be invited them to call
on him, and then fined them for calling to
insult him. He would run against a cow
in the road, beg her pardon, ‘madam,’ and
hope she was not hurt. At other times
he would run against posts and chide them
for getting in his way ; and yet his con
versation at the same time, if anybody
happened to be with him, was perfect
logic and perfect music.”
Affection. —We sometimes meet with
men who seem to think that any indul
gence of affectionate feeling, is weakness.
They will return from a journey,and greet
their families with a distant dignity, and
move among their children with the cold
and lofty splendor of an iceberg, surround
ed with its broken fragments. There is
hardly a more unnatural sight on earth
than one of those families without a heart.
A father had better extinguish bis boy’s
eyes than take away his heart. Who that
has experienced the joys of friendship,
and values sympathy and affection, would
not rather loose afl that is beautiful in
Nature’s scenery than be robbed of the
hidden treasure of his heart? Who would
not rather follow his child to the grave
than entomb his parental affliction ?—
Cherish,then, your heart’s be6t affections.
Indulge in the warm and gushing emo
tions of fraternal lore. Think it not a
weariness. Teach your children to love,
to love the rose, the robin ; to love their
parents, their God. Let it be the studied
object of their domestic culture to give
them warm hearts, ardent affections.—
Bind your whole family together by these
strong cords. You cannot make them too
I strong.
e ♦-»- >- ■ - -
TnE Diivnkard’s Will.—I leave to so
ciety a ruined character, wretched exam
ple, a memory that will soon rot in obliv
ion.
I leave to ray parents, during tbe.rcst
of their lives, as much sorrow as humanity
in a feeble and decrepid state can possibly
sustain.
I leave my brothers and sisters as much
mortification and injury as 1 could wall
bring on them.
I leave to my wife and little darlings a
broken heart, a life of wretchedness, snd
a shame to weep over my premature
death.
I give and bequeath to each oftiry chil
dren poverty, ignorance, a tow character,
and the remembrance that their fcther
was • moneter and a dranker* t K .
-Weave told to have hope and trait; Jmt
what is a poor fellow tq do when be can
no longer get trust ? - as-
.... e •• v ***
IIonestt is always the best polity*
- 1 ,#***;»»«*'

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