The Weekly mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.) 1861-1862, December 28, 1861, Image 1

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The Weekly mountain Democrat. [volume], December 28, 1861, Image 1
About The Weekly mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.) 1861-1862

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The Weekly mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.), 28 Dec. 1861. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress. <https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn82014489/1861-12-28/ed-1/seq-1/>

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THE WEEKLY MOUNTAIN HEVHH’tAf.
VOLUME VIII.VO. 32. i
THE MOISTAIJi DEAIOiB.IT.
fI'DLISIIKU KV»IV NtTI'IIOAV MnKMMi. RV
OIL W IOX« «V. JAN UA r V .
», V. « 4 44M 411»
TBBlfft.—i«4ai4BL» «* 4i>v t*'R-oik- Y<-*<r é » m» M- ut|.«
|S: Tfcrt» Molli'. (■ I -il*. On Month <|*i»t.o'-h* I». in*- « ,»r
rt«ri, Metnu; ftlnslf < -p4> « IJ 1 » •
JkOVKmriMI.HU-On.- • f lullin', i.r.i in-rr'ii-n. f :
««eft •vh«*-'|urai li»v*ril«n 91 >• llimim .< i'ir-1- ••(]'• in,.-,
«r Its*. »or J4»r. ..f In lm.-. ..r in...
thro* oh*«Ui4. iiu \ liiN'twl «iiv.'im « r.i t« ti.vi. mi ih»
»b»Tf r«kr« Ur yearly mol i|iisrhr.« a-lu rlivin. hi.
«im4 Mr
<OuR MISTING —Our "t - i- r»|>l ».-»ith nil ih»
laßrovvitH-nt* for tin »i»i. ■ in 4M- i *■ •-»»-. i«t,..n ~f
«•(ftitylrnf PHIS TI Vll. •i|>'h »• IL**-k« I', |t r h*f«,
■Potwri, H»u«thllU. !'»»• nlnr- H.llTi- k«i« I*» .'ninno. « nr
VkiPi **f Stork or Ooi-xit. Hilll.»*!». < in- k. ll«..)|ita,
Cari*. I«ft»»el«. rie., In |'l»m -r fun » < •»l<»r.-.| in**
Jf •TICKS BLANKS AlMatlt«. In n ruknvo fimi
AU*rba*nl un»l»-r t!i» in • «a’- al tin. Oftmn «)««..
||»»k UevUrstione »t llnni«*'i* nl »»,«• im-.t,..•lirnit-ni form
I» aw. Jo»! priiil* , «l. * l . h-iiii..f MINI ll* M U».
aim. « fc«iMiiriiii*i*v-oiHf.i m \itit i \*. i 11.1; mini*.
t. r. riHHIIK Ni* v-hifiit' i. T. . I •-| i—it. M .*le, ,
Own Hoaar. i«llM- *ii»h»»rlw-l t**-nl lot tin Mot \f\|\
|»IC«|IH'K.AT. In *!»•• '■ i* > -I -ii I in» I.».» \U m 1... f..r
ikt P»|«r of Adirni.ina Kli «oh him «ni »»• |»i.»u.|.il« at
Ua<io> w.
J. C. KKRI.K Y U •nthnrlri'd f« I % liti* «iffm»,
Ur *ul»MTlpi»M*. •d»orii.luc. » m.
Hr. T. <JIRRS I* iho authm.i.-il 1-inl • f Ih. M Mot’R \T at
■|»orr-in*n Ordnr* f. r Hi- |«|-r ...Iw-ril.lii* • r f-t j»»l.
«ark, Irft «llk km. «ili U» |.r.nnptl> n h J !•».
V'HA*. P JA<’KS<»N I* iho «ultinrlf-l Ak«*ii( ■•! IV Mol N
TAIM |IKM<M'K»T at I I limai.» Ordrr* Irft «Uh l.uu « .il
*t*f pramptli attrinln»! I».
Nl. J. mni.RMAM ii onr autknriind areni «( S«. rammitn
All arder» f»>r • 1»ertl«ln» et. Ml «itti him «.Il r»«v!ve In.-
■fdlau atu-blmn.
COI.. I.- I*. MOPKINH I* <»ur anM,..:lr.-d am nl a! Anr».r.i
Mas* Caaaty.
A II- I. I*l%** l« %«»ut f*.r fi. » !»»«•• M4i »t X..li'iiiu i it»
Nevada Territory
Oflcti oik Colon»* Hirer!.
professional (Carts, l£tr.
M. ». »HKAM>a. H H'-IMIII
SHEARER A MeINTIRE,
attorney'* am» chii x.»ki.ia»ic»-at-i.a»v.
Office—Sorth »Mjr uf PUia < ip-Halr,) », Placervill
[iittvl»:f]
I u «„»»»«. ‘ ‘ «"Uvn»
EASTMAN A WILLIAMS,
attulineyi*-at i.aw.
Plaeereille Anti lit «11, 11 ItorsA.lf, C. linljr. Cal
Orrirw-Konulf' (MI» »lair*'. 1*1». ,-r» iM,-.
and on Main ,t.. Ilt-nrit it.wn. n 1
o. D. HALL. o. YALE.
J%teerriU*. S'” l "■
Practice I.aw in a’.l the Court, of 1 tali.
Officer, at t'arron am! Virginia A ita. ji*3H if
joha Him. 11 ■ aio»».
HUME A SLOSS.
ATTOUNKV*- A T - I. A YV,
Office in t itj Block, PlaerftYllr.
Will practice I.awaei it.c Court, of 1 1 Ibiradii and
wboicinpCountira— io tl, »'ii'iiiui t oiirl, ai d the
(«tarli uf fiali 1 errilo!) . 1,1
Cwurtr
A. A. VAN GUELDER.
ATTORNPV- A T ■ I. A 'V ,
naeerellle. Pl Doralo ooi.v < •'■ f -rnla.
OFFICE. corner Coloii.a ai I Ma R
B. W. SANDERSON,
ATTO R N 1 V- A T I. AW ,
Office. In Dmiirla,■' Ru.Miup tup r»i. Main
Pire, l. Piacervi!!,.
I. ». I .aa. oro. -, rum
CARR A PALMER,
ATTORNI Y » \ T I- Aw .
Will liradice law in a'l il" I■■ .r'* ft I. I 1 of •*' '*
I'l,'t i ■n 1
Office In ItoiiAla,-* I!
Plat ere I lie.
« t j,.;’
F. II HARMON.
NOTARY penili: AND I "NY !V YNCKII.
Deed,. Morirà*,, »■ . . ily « .ti. n o*l a
knowledr 111 l»r|to, •-1 • I , \ A ■•I » '
Office—Back ro. i mi. oi D-unla-A II .<■'
bulbilli*. Man am 1 1 of'' • r«y M
E. B. CARSON,
NOTARY pcm.ic AND CONVEY YMH!
Office- In tlieCouii 110ii,.-,» if Cootii i 11. t or.lrr
Will Itroletl N. I. • tl, • D.ed». M.o Ic w
era of Atto, no.i « I IInYIITKYD I'H I YRvIDiNS.
with nralnrs» ami I», I».*.* " fwijw'lr
termi.
M. K. SHEARER,
NOTARY IT lII.If.
IffiTMiffier, at 11 tei tic Iter. Alain .lint, three
l.ùrt abote Bedford Avenue, ITaferv ilio. aiti»
H. K. STOWE,
NOTARY prBI.IC AMI CONVEYANCER.
Cl.lt.i.lowii, El D. nolo Count,».
CHAS. F. IRWIN,
NOTARY IT R I.K,
In and for Kl 0 irado Cnuniy—Offiv »a' Diamond
au« MTotr, "
cole nana, i. k. mi ».
DBS. COOKE A TITUS,
PII Vf>lC I A N * AND PURO EON?.
Jfficr, {up et-ilf,.) ott i 11. o,y A Ry. ' » i* . o ; '
n» the Telepraph Office. o|.i-,.1. Ih - I try
Maui »tr»*ri.
auSI
CEO, W. CIIAPI* A CO.,
laower tide of I‘laia, near t Uy strut,
SAN FUASrisrO,
ÌMPLOYMENT OFFICE,
AMI (.LVMIU A*.►M V,
KurnUh all kind* of Help for tannilo*. Hotel»,
Farmers, Mining rompameli Mill», 1 o-torie»,
Shops, etc., eie.
Alto, have a 11KAI. t>T VTK Atfr.NTV. and
attend to all busine?* in that line. >-** l>
i#
PAINTER & CO.,
Practical Printer*, mid in
Tyj»e, ProMHi s. rrinliiufM iien.il».
Ini, Pijitr, Ctint*, tir ,
510 Clay street, above SaiiAoine,
». a. ruma.
a. M. fAI*T«B
». r. psirraa
mart]
i, i Sau Frarclsco.
I, ►
i. 1 1#" Office» fitted out with «lispateh.
l*y
CHARLES F. ROBBINS,
IMPOiTKM ANI» HRAI.KH IN
Type. Prewes, Printing Material,
INKS, CARD STOCK, ETC,,
Noi. 4Ù to 417 CLAY STREET.
(Opposite Frank Uaker's.)
jeM-ly San Francl*«*o.
Books, Stationer», Etc.
m
T. C. NUGENT,
DEALER IN
BOOKS, PTATIONERY. CDTLIIT.
TOTS. NANCY GOODS, ETO.,
Cit, Illttck, Main street,
deeU-3- I'I.ACE«VILIJt.
PLAZA BOOK HTOBC.
PLACER VILLE,
.Ha, Jk«l received a eplendld anoiffirtl at
andarti and MiaoelUnee—
STATIONERY, SCHOOL BOOKS.
nrr loots, Atari».
io»«, .hold rane. vinti a».
lotTAii, hch* mma
■OM.it sraniGS, a-rr., >n .'
teted expresal/ the Country Trade, and
greatly reduced rates. AU*.
AOSNTS
r Sacramento Union, Alla Csllfwsls,
Mirror, eie,
BWBPAPEBS AND PERIODICAL!
pt constanti) on hand, ami nubi unuwially t.«.
cls-8m lIKRNANUAZ A ANDEMtMC.
S. HARRIS.
•mr of Main Sire*l inni lA. /Yurti
rtACIITILLI,
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALER IN
trait Clgan, Tobacc», Bwk,, ffia.
ioffiirjr, Catlerp, Playli* furti,
Valine Nation!, Frail a, Vnn
‘ 'Drlcffi, Nati aid CfiaeM
it eai minimi .
m,reeel.ee bjr eeecy fUrairerthr latetd Allenile
Buro|iean Newspapere, Meiaalnea and Perbidl
and all the WEEKLY CAUPORMA NEWAPA-
I and MAGAZINES. noviS-da
hotels, Restaurants, l£tr.
TUE CARY HOUSE,
*Vl\ ITMKkT, ri M KHVII.LK.
C-'AKV A CIT.I.KN PItOPUIKTOKS,
*'• *•. r.utr, JA*. w. vn.i.tv.
decTlf
ORLEANS HOTEL,
of Main and Sacramento atreeta,
ill PL AC RR VILLE.
11. T. I*l. A NT, having leafted the nlmve named
•Popular Hotel, it non prepared to nrcoinniiHlate
miiam-nt or t rinvieni (maniere in si style eipial to
that of an) hollar in tin* County. No pain* vv ill he
a pared to render the ORLEANS "till more deverv
injf of public aup|Mirt than heretofore ; and the
proprietor, with ronlldeiiee, anticipate" a liberal
•hare of public patronage. noi IT*.’lni
PLACER HOTEL,
M AIN Si 11 KKT I' I. A( KK VI U.K.
WUNBCH & BUPP....PROPRIETORS.
Til K un lerilgf*•d having lenied the Placer Hotel
reapeelfully «olirli u < onlinuatiee of th«- Ilio ml
patronage heretofore •• xt• i•• Ito it. and n«*ur' its
form* r patron» arid the public g.*?.. rally that t»*> ef
fort »hall l>e "pared on their part to the
comfort of all who tuny favor them with tllfir pa
tronage.
THE ri.Ari.lt HOTEL. «hunted in the Very heart
of lb** loi*ine«i portion of Plaeerville, offerì *ti|»e
rior iiidm em# nt« to re.ldei ts ai d the trave ing pub
lie. The TAHI.E will alwayi he «applied will the
h«*«| vi il.d* to he had in the market, and the L«dg-
Jftg depsirtim nt will ever h- eb aii and comfortnhle.
l’i ice" in accordance with tr,•• tmn ",
iiif wrxsm a sn*p.
ST. GEORGE HOTEL.
J It. II AUnrNliKUhll A.l It HA YTAN, proprie torà.
Fourth Street, between .1 «n«l K,
opt.* tf Pvi'NVMkSTO.
\ATIO\U. UKST.VUKAXT ! !
WilN fTNHT, NUT I*n-H To till otiti *vl.<»oS,
PLACERVILLE.
SA:
MIE utcl» ri gii» -I r* -pec'^n’ly
•mii Ih» .it i> ti* ».f I la
■ lb- aid the public
__ |y, that he ha* taken the a11..*
naiiTtd hom»* and renovat* I and r foniihel it m
the b»-*t «! \le I a*u p; • |-.ir* -I at nil liiuei. day or
nght. to .ic-,.H,i;„.dal» t!.o*e wh . nr.v favor me with
tl.« r patrona? with t* e v< ry I» t *.f everyth ng the
market aff-rd*, prepare»! in any denired *lyle.
Oyat era, (’hiekena, Turkeyn A (.nine
.»f all kit di •» rv» d t»» • r ler.
iff Knot, and Paitry of all kind* r»»r»*tantly on
I and. A •bare of i-iilr* nag»- i« r» , «l»»- tfnl v -di.
.it. I. JiHIX MILI.EIt.
pi » • rvilie, November 1 % . In*» I ——Jin»
/a
HOPE AND NEPTUNE
RESTAURANT,
On the li.i/a, Plaeerville.
The alx.ve p-.pnlar Place ».f I!e««»rt ha*
lief », lca«*d hv the m.-L-idgm-d, and tlmro
r« novated aid i••lift* ■!.
Every De,ic.icy of the Sanson
r».n*tantlv on hsind. M* al* **-rveil at the *lo
n«dl. e. v .tiare of lutroi tgc *oln ited
.huni Am .ItMIN M Vlito\ K
uirhlv
itext
11.
ADRIATIC EXCHANGE,
Mam at reel, third d . • a»»- ' the fary !l. u«e
A The node,.V •! I peel.
fully ii.'.u i «i. « * ai d
tin- pilld’c illy ’hai lo*
■u W ,« I,• • » .,,,<* », , » \| H \Ni.r
n *be Koiopt an It*-tuurunt s»y 1.-, an I ii preparili
to fan* *li
Mrnla at all lloura* liny or Night.
\|..| a ommodate IMAIUH lIS \NH I.OHMKHS
The Saloon n k. pi open :*ll night,
do. : PETER FOX.
i
tIU ilkK HlXril iIiVT,
Main *tr» el, Placerv iHe, op|m*»te Old Hound Tent.
havdkn x i Alimi, puopiu troie*.
We ar»- fulltj |»r* pared
to 4econulloli.it i our old
fn•*it 1-, sii..! tb» puniti: \
general!) . in the (Militivi
manner, ami at the *hi»rti**t notiee, with ev»-ry
cosnf»»rl. and »»ur Table w ill alw aV. be «upplied w it It
the HKS I OF I‘Altt. Meal* '• r'e lup promptly
at all hour*.
We hope, hy «trirl attention to hii«inei* and a
Hill «if I are that eatuiot be excelled, f»i inerita
«bari of public patronage
It \|.I.S, PAIMIK'. etc , furnidicd with Sup
i>* r in • um-rior *tv!r, sit the *h>«rte*t notice
dec* Sin ’ II AVHKN .v CA IM T.lt.
in:>icv itu>ji>iiv,
I.HALKU IN
Cigar*. Tobac-co unti I'riiil,
Car) Iluuir. I licer» ilio.
lIKST HAVANA C KiAKS 11\ « T.NTS.
die*]
i'omomil: i:\tiii\t;i:,
ovtit run pofT.imc»:.
OX THi; I* I. A 7. A. I* I. ACK 11 V 11.1, K.
M. BOBOWSKY PROPRIETOR.
Best of Liquors. Wines, Cigars, &c.,
AL. IO t>N ll. Nit.
FRESH OYSTERS, EVERY STYLE.
nciftj
w. vi. uo.wiu c.
w II .11.1: i* A I. K
Liquor Dealer
1-li.s., Slum itrcrt, I'lai-friillf.
Satnplr Room in C»ry Hoii.t- lluild.n,. o. ld
joii v n renali; a co..
Fonurtl) of Vautio. k Co •», M.m unit,)
Would inform their ohi
blend*, the trav» ling
* public. and the eoininii
I nity in feiirial. that
it— they have rommen.-rd
nino» Mi .Inlr o»n ■n~M. in (hr .»■» •»<! rlr
inti. arr»n(rd n.«i in .All Ml*l'l*K
rii.lMNti. Main .trool. I'UromUr.
II \lll HU»IV. \M> lk.
o*l .klllfnt ~r.4r. —f• lutk. 1-0» .1.1 «I.
11. 1 r. I 111. I> *OM*.»IImV4
Ihi lilllWl.kM.l.
« |«.n. T.rt I'l.M. oo ,».4>
fdn*"t nmni.fdl. n.ii.d
d.cT ;
uSauitniittiii.
R»»(*.iM| wig*'
.4 WuHV» ««I mérntm
m m**
ihytup »■ 4 •* »
# •
hw m 4 ft»**-- 8
1k4.M1l mt %
• 4.
» I. Iw
% f
- *• -
a*» £U»f\iii rnmm% *
drwt,
* »
nrnMoMf
H« «il _
XSmo
I MUMmoiUiWa
JLi d IM* Wn
rwiuc
‘Olii COI’NTHY, ALWAYS RIGHT; HUT, RIGHT O'fjHvUONG, OUR COUNTRY.”
PL ACER VILLE, EL DORADO COUNTY, CALIFORNIA, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1861.
Kince I have no lamìPar jioutra,
Ami no hoardeil gulden «tore,
\\ hat rim | leave Ibotr who lute me
When they see my face no more Ì
Do not »mile ; 1 am not jetting, •
'I hough my nord» aound gay and light,
l.ivten to me, dearct Alice,
I tvill make my Hill to-night.
Fimt, fur Mahel, nho Hill never
Let the du»t of fnltire year»
Dim the thought of me, hut keep it
Brighter still—perhap, with tear» ;
In Hhots eye» tvhale’cr 1 glance at,
Touch, or praise, Hill always shine,
Through a strange and sacred radiance.
By Lute’s charter, wholly mine -,
She will never lend another
Slenderest link of thought I claim,
I will therefore to her keeping,
Leave nit my name.
Bertha w ill do truer service
To her kind than I have done,
S?o I leave »o her joiing spirit
The long work 1 hate i.egnn.
Well! the threads are tangled, broken,
And the color* do nut blend,
Hie will lend her earnest striting,
Both *o linish and amend ;
And, when it i* all completed,
Strong ttiih care and rich with skill,
Just bemuse my hand* began it,
Phe will Jute it better still.
Built shall hate my dearest token,
'l ite one link 1 dread to hteak,
The one duty that 1 Ine for,
She, when 1 am gone, will take.
Sacred is the trust I leave her,
Needing patience, prayer and tears,
I hate striven to fulli 11 it.
As she knows, these many years ;
Sometimes helpless, faint and weary,
Vet a Messing shall remain
With the task, and Butti will prize it
l or mt many hours of pain.
What must 1 lente for my Alice?
Nothing, love, to d.. or bear.
Nothing that ran dim )our blue eyes
With the slightest cloud of care j
I will leave m> heart to lute ton
With the teiidi-r faith of Id,
Hill to comfort, warm and light you
Phoold tour life grow dark or cold ;
No one el*e, in) child can claim it,
If ton find < Id scars of pain,
Thet wen- >nl) Hounds, my darling,
There is not, I trust, one stain.
Ar* ray gift* indeed so Horthleis
N*»w the slender su u i* told ?
Well ! 1 know not ; tear- may Ides» them
With a Holder price than gold.
Am I poor? Ah. no. most wealthy!
Not in these poor gift- tou take.
But in the true hearts that tell me
You will keep them for my sake.
At! tfir Year Koun»t,
•—«« • ♦ ►
“ Mori Sur (’hnmpw intonile nr.”
O think not that there’s glory won
But on the field of Moody strife,
Where Hashing blade and flushing gun
Cut loose the silver cords of life.
Carte deep his name in brass or stone
Who for his iiaim; and country hied,
Who lie* lincili ned and unknown,
“ I’p' li the field ui honor, dead.”
But .’ irte tin re. too, the names of those
Who fought th.- tight of faith and truth,
Bet.dn.g l.eniatli life s wintry snows,
Or battling in the pride of youth.
Whoe’er I ate kindled one bright ray
In heart* whence joy and hope had fled,
Hate not lited t ai niy : such us they
Are on “ tin* field of/o»««r, dead.”
And those who sink on desert sand,
< ir calmly n »t ’m ath ocean w ate,
Dropping the eros» from weary hand.
Telling no more its power to sate ;
The true, the pure, the brave, the good,
Fill ing at duty’s post, still shed
A radiant light o’e plain and llood,
Tho’ “on the field of honor, d. ad.”
Thus may we live, thus may we die.
In earnest, taliant, faithful fight ;
True to man’s loftiest destiny—
Trur M our f»W. ourtrtrtn *twi right.
And when we sleep, as sleep tie must,
In ocean’s cell» or earth’s dark prison.
Be this monument o’er our dust,—
T o ifni'f. “ Ac is nut htre, hut risen.**
THE KILNED CHAPEL.
About a mile nini u-bnlf from Cnslieion,
the metropolis of the hie of Man, there
is a bay, with a small hamlet anil a pier
in it, cal led Derby Haven. I walked toil
lately, one line afternoon, from Castleton.
May way lay aloni; the coast over the turf
which fringed the bench, and which goes
by the name of the race-course. W hat
ever this niijzht liave been, it is now so
broken-up and humpy that a race on it
now would he a steeple chase. It was a
lovely day v the wind had dropped, and 1
could hear distinctly the shrill clatter ofn
parcel of pulls, which were walking about
the ulge of the water veliere the low tide
had left l ine streaks of Hat, wet sand.—
I'he harbor is inriued by an island, now
approached by a narrow artilieial cause
wav. Towards the sea ibis is edged with
sharp rocks,whose strata are turned inside
like teeth—sure to bold fast any ill-fated
ship which they once touched.
There are only two 'buildings on the
island—one a circular, deserted fort, built
by an Karl of Derby to help the cause ol
the Stuarts, but lung since unused, at
least lor the purpose of defence or refuge.
It is squat, circular, and upright. One
small turret has been built on the wall for
the purpose of showing a light by night
ami a while mark by day to vessels en
tering the liaibor. This gives the fort a
prick-cand appearance, and makes it bmk
like a Cheshire cheese with a pepper-cas
ter standing on it. The other of the two
building, on the island is not only desert
,-d, l.ui in ruins. It was a Homan fatilo-
In- I’liapi 1. and the ground around it is
Mill nasal aa a burying plneu for the Uo-
Husl.l*t< The naif of the building lias
la, ami nothing is left but the four
•■Ha, a Iddi appear aa inueh worn by the
• '•the* •llhln as without, showing that
away pW> toni Uvr passes! since they
•s«e Ai torteli by a roof. The chapel,
•hkk b Ml "t .tiNie, looks as if it had
haato mined mm.m alter ils erection, and
san ntor «r Mtoths-r lias! nerer been
|Wae was not a Using human creature
« dto aMr Mansi but my « 11 and an
Man. nh - naa .-raw ting in an aimless
s4 tone among the na-ka aa if he had
■al hhtoa. 4 and s-ustld not get out, I sal
dato» toat anHM him The lurf was
—A, gtod • gasi Mere of gray rock gave
gat reto d* tog hm k. lie was, as I said.
MM Aalt tfannag Ike sharpest, Itarcst
wdagAkiadnsf. I aouden-d adiat
he eaarM W lewklng (» Kggs? No;
•ha todr Hoard ahrir he was: no eggs
•ahi ih lbs. lira ars-dT No; there
•as ptowlt s 4 that sm Ibe Hat sliswe ; and
| ..a*. 1 Ikes* s.r tn » altere I lay a horse
«ad a • art es<g*g <1 in carrying it away to
•a >4 A. iMigl.ai' g firms where it is
toad as marnar. I got quite curious
atomi my old man. Tln-re he waa with
head and slow rheumatic limbs,
preshsg palli ally a»«Hit, and everr now
ami Ara gMiiag snan-tlung up. The old
mm waa kadimg tur Hre wood, and there
taring hardly aay In» an khia part of the
•aland, went “sticking" on the shore.—
The (art aa his hearth would often telj
ì atraage slurbs, if «me could hear it apeak.
MY WILL.
logs from which the numb fingers of
drowning men bad at last relaxed tbeir
hold ; oar-blades which hud struck ice in
Arctic sens, or stirred the long grass in
some tropical creek; charred scraps which
had hissed in the water as they fell from
a burning ship out in the middle of the
sen ; thin ribs of isiand boats, which had
put in and out for many years, till some
rough mght they had touched the rock,
and cracked like eggs.
U hat a hoodie of history the old man
tied on his back at last—he and it alike
in the last chapter of the tale! As he
crept towards me, I thought of question
ing him about the ruined chapel that was
there; perhaps he might know its legend ;
so, with a general meteorological preface,
I asked what he could tell about it, anil
gave him a good cut off a piece of Caven
dish I hud in my pocket, as a retainer.
. “ .Sir,” said he (I leave out the thanks,
and his rritiijiic on my remarks about the
weather), “ 1 am growing an old man
now, and it's us much ns I can do to get
these lew sticks ; but I have seen more
things worth picking here than them, in
my day.”
“ Such ns wrecks ?" I suggested.
“ Ay, you are right there, sir. Time
was when a poor man might get a chance ;
hut now, what with your light-houses ami
life-boats, and coast guard and police, ei
ther them ns owns the wreck gel ashore
all right, and avaricious after their things;
or, il so bo they don't, 'tain't often you
cun get much more than the value of
these few sticks out of a ship, not even
when she goes to pieces. Why, sir,” he
continued, •• not long ago there was a
vessel wrecked oil' Scarlet ; she was loaded
w ith Hour, (a French ship she was,} and
ihat they sold hy auction.”
‘Ah!’ said I, soothingly, ‘times are
changed, lint, talking of the past, can
you tell me how this chapel here came to
lie pulled down, and why they don’t keep
the pigs from grubbing about among the
graves ?’
‘Why, yes,’ he replied, *1 can; not
that I saw it alone myself, hut there ain't
a house about here where the tale ain't
told on winter evenings.’
After a little pressing, the old man
slowly swung his bundle of sticks oil' his
hack, scaled himself on a stone, fixed his
eyes on the ruin, and recited his legend,
w hich 1 give in my own language.
Many years ago, there was a famous
priest who gave up all he possessed, and
came to teach Christianity in these parts,
lie was nota Manksman, though he could
talk with the people in their own tongue,
lie lived in a poor home at Derby Haven,
but lor nil that there was not a siek or
needy person near hut what he helped
with medicine and food, ns spiritual .-ad
vice. Along with a kind heart he had a
kind face and voice; so that the little
childien would run out to laugh and kiss
his hand when they saw him pass. For
a long time he Used to gather the pi-ople
tog ther on the winter evenings in one of
the largest rooms in the hamlet, while in
the summer he would prendi to the listi
erineii and Ihcir families on the seashore.
After some years of this intercourse he
proposed to the men that they should
build a small clnireh on the island. St
Michael, he said, had appeared to him in
a vision, and pointed out a chapel on a
fiat space mi the glass, close to the rocks ;
he had seen it, he said, quite plain in his
dream ; the light was shining out of the
w indow ; he had crept up under the wall
and looked in, and, lo! there he saw him
self kneeling before a beautiful, co-tly
altar, and he recognized the congregation
as themselves.
Now, while they were full of admira
tion at this dream, the gnod father bade
them rise up and follow' him to the place
where they bad seemed to see the chapel,
and, lo ! when (hey got there they found
the ground marked out where (lie foun
dation of the chapel now stands, and a
border drawn some distuqcu around on
which that wall was hnill, which you can
now trace in the grass, just as if some orn
ila I turned up a furrow on the hare earth
and then laid a carpet of turf upon it.—
And when the men of the place saw the
marvel, and how truly the good father’s
dream had been from heaven, he hade
them kneel down there at once, while he
prayed to St. Michael and all angels that
these people w ould not leave oil' the good
work till they had built n chapel to him.
Thus they were led to begin, ami prom
ised to give a portion of their time till the
little church should he finished.
There was abundance of stone close by
and the architecture of the edifice was ol
the simplest kind. I our plain, thick
walls with a roof, was all they aimed at.
Sow, this part of the work was compara
tively easy; hut Father Kelly began to he
sorely perplexed ns it reached completion,
ns to how he should furnish it \vitliin,uiid
so fulfil the dream iu providing such a
costly altar as he was persuaded he ought
to build. The poor people had neither
silver nor gold. They had already oliere»!
such as they limi —strong hands and time
taken from their rest or work. Night
after night, Father Kelly would repair to
the chapel, now roofed it), noil pray to St.
Mfchnel to help him iu this strait. One
dark evening, he was there longer than
usual ; he had fallen down with his face
upon the ground before the spot on which
he hoped to put up the altar. While
thus prostrate in prayer, anil longing for
a continuation of his dream, he hear»)
footsteps close outside of the chapel walls.
Having bis face upon the earth, the sound
came quite distinctly to his car. They
stopped, and a voice said— * This is the
chapel. Let ns lay them here; 'tis just
the place for a burial.’
•Very well,’ replied another; ‘ how
does she lie? Here goes, mate, hy the
north-east corner.’
Then came the sound of digging, and
pauses, as if men were stooping down to
lay something in the molimi ; after that,
Father Kelly heard the mound shut back,
and some one stamp it down. Though
the church had not been furnished, two
or three funerals had taken place in the
graveyard, one of which he hud hiniseil
celebrated only that afternoon.
What could he the (ddect of these
strange night-visitors? 'W»»at Inni nut
disturbed the «lend—they lini not remain
long enough for that ; their work, what
ever it was, seemed to be accomplished in
a quarter of an hour, for after that time
he heard a slapping nf hands, ns if some
one were cleaning (hem of dusty earth,
and a voice, saying : ‘ There, that is done ;
and, as dead men tell no talcs, we may
trust the present company >
* Ay, ay,' replied the other, ‘ I trust
them so much I don't think we need w ait
any longer.'
* What ! afraid man ?’
* Not I ; hut there is'foul weather mim
ing, and the sooner wo clear oil' these
cursed rocks, the belter.’
1 Well, etimo along.’
Then Father Kelly heard them walk
down towards the water, and presently
distinguished the grating of a boat’s keel
OH she was pushed off; then tho double
Round of oars and the rowlocks die»! away,
and all wna still. He got up from the
Qoor and. walked out of tho chapel. It
was n iniilsumtncr night. The nir was
warm and motionless; clouds, however,
had c-re(it so plentifully ns to cover the
sky. W Idle he stood there outside the
chapel,tlie moon, which was about a•> eelc
ohi, became obscured, anil the darkness
drew close tit bis eyes, lie could not see
a yard before bint ; he listened, hut heard
only the slow wu.-dt itf the swell as the
rising tide earried it i .to the dill’s among
the roeks.with now and then a liquid Hup,
as a wave ran’ into a sudden angle, and
fell buck upon itself. This was the only
sound. It was a night for hear!tip, too.
lie felt fur bis lantern, and got out his
steel to strike a light. Having dropped
his Hint, in croping about to Hnd it, he
forgot the directional, which be bad stood
and, when lie bud got upon bis feet again,
after an unsuccessful search, he felt him
self so utterly at a loss, that, after walking
a few steps with bis bands stretched out
before him, lie determined to wait for the
morning, rattier than risk a fall over one
of the slippery rocks in bis attempt to
return home.
\V lien lie hail sat there for some time,
the lain begun to fall in large drops.these
were, however, but the splashes from the
hueket-fulls w hich were soon piim-cd upon
bis bend. The wind, too, was loosed at
(lie same time, and rushed on him with
such violence that, though he dure not
search lor shelter lest he should fall over
the rock, lie was glad to sit down on a
large stone which he felt at bis feet. The
lirst lladi of lightning, however, showed
him the chapel itself, not more than ten
yards «If. lb: groped towards it imme
diately in tlie gloom, with his hands
stretched out before him, rigid glad when
he fell its rough stones. Thu wall once
found, he soon discovered the path with
bis feel, and, when he got home, was glad
to go to rest at once.
ile hnd not slept many boms before lie
was aroused to visit a dying man in one
of the neighboring houses, llurryingon
his clothes, he hastened to the place,
where a crowd was gathered about the
door, many of them dripping front tlie
sea. The storm which be bad seen the
evening before, had grow n into a terrible
tempest, during which a ship bail been
driven on the rocks and utterly wrecked.
All the crew were druwnesi hut one man
whom they limi dragged out of lint surf,
and carried to Derby Haven, lie ka»l
apparently, however, bevi, saved from
death in the water I» die mi tin- lami, I».
he was so grievously hml*» d and «ml by
the na-ks on which h. hml !»*• Hems,
that life was ready to l*«ee him *M 0 Ih
er. tV ben Father Kelly mm- h«.hr Ms*
him lying on 111. Amt. »u<f* I «• h»
sneli dry clnthn. m the (-■•**• had at
baud. tf-Uiad legged |tm-m »• Mch Mw
priest. Ills back, he s*M, kn 4».
and lie knew be cow'd ms U.r os-Me
hour; so the people l»l«*h.d isht KsHy,
as we 11.-tvu seen, and Uft the alms
together.
• Father,’ said the dying man. * • HI y»m
hear the confession of a |>..alr and mm
defer ?’
The priest, seeing there was no lime I»»
lose, signified Ids assent, and, kneeling
down by bis side, In-lit Ms esf to lisU-n.
Then the innn. with strange bleaks and
rambling in bis speech, told him of mur
ders out in tlie wide seas, and horrible
recollections of cruelty and rapine.
• We look a Spanish ship some weeks
ago,’ added tlie man, * and came in here
to water, it being n safe place; when I
tiod forvive my soul! —I committed my
last crime, and stole from the captain a
box of gold he had taken out of the
Spaniard. Another man and I were in
the secret. We brought it with us, and
buried it in the graveyard of your little
chapel, intending to make our escape
from tlie ship on the lirst opportunity,
Hnd our way over here, and enjoy the
booty we had got.’
‘To whom did it belong?’ asked tin
priest.
Mind knows,’ replied the man; ‘to me,
now, I suppose. Those who owned it,
can use it no more ; the ship from which
the captain took it, went down with all on
board—we burned her.’
‘What was her name?’ asked Father
Kelly.
‘ Name t’ said the dying man. ‘ There,
take the gobi and shrive me: I have con
fessed !’
Without another word, he died. The
people hulled him, and gathered up some
few pieces of timber from the wreck of
his ship, but nothing came ashore I»
show whether she was laden or not.—
I’hey never knew her name, nor, for a
great while, what she was—the priest not
eoni-eiving himself bound to tell even so
iniich of what be had beard in confession.
Many years afterwards, the whole store
was found in a book which the priest left
after him when lie died.
The words, ‘Take the geld!’ haunted
the good father long after the man who
died in uttering lliepi bud been committed
to tin- ground. The chapel was tinisbeU
hut not furnished ; tho fulfillment of tlie
dream was incomplete. Many a night
the priest lay nwakearguing with himself
the lawfulness of a scaldi among the
graves for tho treasure which lie had no
doubt was hidden there. Suppose he
could find it, shoiihl he credit the pirate’s
word about the death of the owner?
Could he conscientiously appropriate it.
not indeed to his own use, but to that of
the chapel? lie thought of tlie sentence
which fell on those who put unhallowed
Are hi their censers; he thought of the
accursed thing found in the Jew’s lent,
which brought trouble upon the whole
people to which he belonged. Then,
again, it looked as if the sin attached to
die appropriation of this gold, had been
punished in the persons of the pirates
v» ho hud tnKen it. It looked ns if it were
rescued from the service of the world to
he devoted to that of the church—snatched
from the devil himself, to be given to St.
Michael, his chief enemy.
On the whole, he decided upon using
the gold, if he could Hml it. Hu must,
however, be cautious in the search ; lie
would not trust the people to look. It
might not be there, ami then he would
he ashamed. There might he more than
he thought, ond they might bo templed
to take some ; or, if not that, be jealous
-of his retaining possession of it. He
would search alone. The conversation he
hnd heard outside of the chapel, while he
listeneVon the eve of the storm, indica
ted tlie spot in which he should look.
Having, therefore, waited for a suitable
moonlight night, he went very late to the
churchyard with a spade. There was no
one there. The shailaw of the building
fell upon the likely spot ; he could work
uupereeived, even if some returning fish
crinali were to pass that way. Half
aslmmed of the errand, he had not re
moved many spadefuls of earth from the
grave he suspected, before he struck upon
something hard. Stooping down, he felt
for it witli his hands; it was a heavy box.
lie took it up, smoothed down the soil,
carried it straight home, double locked his
dmuy nail broke it open, It contained
broad, shining pieces of gold. They made
such a heap on his table ns ho"had never
seen before. There was, moreover, in the
box, a necklace of large pearls. Gold for
the chapel, jewels for the Madonna.
The church was furnished, the altar
was deckvd, tlie image was bought, and
around its neck he hung the string of lair
large pearls.
Father Kelly saw his dream fulfilled,
and, as success often produces conviction,
he thanked St. Michael and all angels fur
having turned the robber’s booty into sa
cred treasure. So it was written in his
hook, but he told no one whence these
these riches came. Some of the simple
folks thought the virgin herself had hro’t
these jewels to the father. He, however,
many a time, w Idle lie sal on the rocks by
the chapel, looking out to seaward, ami
watching the while sails go by, wandered
back to the question whence these riches
came, and whether, alter all, they might -
not hide some after-curse or other.
One evening, us he sat there, a vessel
came around the point, and dropped an- ;
chor in the harbor. She diew his atten
tion as being unlike the common coasting
ships, or even the traders which venture
on more distant vnyttgvs. She cairied 1
more canvass in proportion to her hull,
and hud her sail furled almost us soon us (
she hud swung round with the tide.
I’resenlly a boat came oil'from her, and
was rowed to the shore, just beneath the
spot where lie sat T.wo men,apparently I
officers, got out and walked up to him, '
begged Inin to accompany them hack to
the ship, us they said one of their crew I
was dying, ami needed the ollices of a ■
priest. He went with them at once with- I
out suspicion—u man who had been with i
him, and heard the summons, returned to |
Derby Haven.
The ghostly summons, however, was a
ruse;-this was the sister ship of the pi
rate that had been wrecked here in tlie
storm, now some months ago. The new
comers had learned her fate, and hud land
ed to search for traces of the treasure she
had on board. They had lirst taken the
priest, as they thought, with much proba
bility, he could tell them whether the in
habitant of the village had plundered the
wreck, and also whether any of her crew
survived.
What they learned from Father Kelly
no one ever knew. .Some of the men, re
turning to the shore, strolled into the
cha|i«l, and doubtless recognised tlie neck
lace an «Mie of the costliest items of their
ln»( treasure. The next morning the ship
was o»*#M*, and the people searching for
their priv-4, who bail no| returned home |
gl alpM. Salini the ch«|« l sacked and his
ruotar ut uvee the altar in the place where !
Sts iaoor of Ihr Madonna had been, with j
a tuOM rued like a necklace twisted
da»de amami hi* thrmt.
fV- >atari Idi m id the natives never
mawda.4 Hun |M aue the chapel again.
M gvadaaSy turarne a ruin ; the nod fell
n» ; dtr afcwai baked the walls within as
•«41 aa natemi, anlil at lasi it passed in
». the aMNe in «Inch it is to-day.
Thla waa Ike M»nr of the old man. He
-dd d limi, cren now, whoever struck the
utlU and listened eould hear n moan
within, amt a noise like the jingling of
money. ” You can try it yourself," said
hr, *’ and Hnd whether I have told you
lha traili.”
Accepting this rather fearless challenge
of tlie old gi-ntlcmnns’s, I walked with
him to the wall and knocked, when, lo I
I suddenly found that I hnd waked my
self by striking my hand upon tlie stone
by which I had sat down to rest. It was
till a dream. I had fallen asleep thinking
of the chapel, and, watching the old man
among the rocks. He was not in sight
now. I was quite alone, and trying to
replace n piece ol skin which I hnd
knocked nil’ the knuckle of my middle
Huger, by rapping on n stone. I doubted
even whether I had asked the old man
any questions at nil ; so I shook myself,
rulilicd my eyes, unti looked ut my watch,
nml happily found that I should not be
too late for dinner if 1 set off on my re
turn at «nice.
Directly wc sat down to dinner, I asked
my friend for the true history of the little
church, ami he told me there was mine.
•Now,’said I, ‘that remarkable deficiency
lias been supplied through me.’ And,
when the chilli was removed, wc drew
around the lire, ami I told my host’s hoys
and girls the true legend concerning St.
Michael’s Island.
l-’roiu tin.’ Mount Holly (N. J.) lli-ntM.
Reception of Col* James W• Wall at
Burlington.
The release of Col. Wall from Fort La
fayette, and his reception on Friday night,
wlu-n he returned to his family, his home
and numerous friends, produced a rejoicing
exceeding everything ever before known
in this city. Notwithstanding the disap
pointment of a largo number of people
who had assembled at Mount Holly to
come by railroad, mid from the severity
of a heavy storm which made it impossible
for hundreds of others to leave lleverly,
Kridgehorougli, Knncocns, Columbus,
Johnstown, Jacksonville, and other vil
lages in our county, and so witli many
others in IMiilndclpliiu and Bristol, and
ninny hundred of onr own citi/.ens were
thus prevented from attendance, there
was not less than one thousand persons
at the depot awaiting his reception.
As tlie Colonel stepped upon the plat
form,-the dense mass greeted him in the
fullness of their hearts. It was no strain
ed effort on the part of family, for the
cheers of welcome eiinio long, loud, full
and free. He entered a carriage in wait
ing, preceded by a Urge transparency
hearing illese w mils : “ ./urne» ll r . Wall,
the defender iff’the Conni itu I ion, Welcome
Home,” with the American Hug. The car
riage was encircled by a large number of
men hearing torches, followed by * hand
of music ami uno hundred torches in a
processsion of over three hundred men.
As tlie procession moved along, Main
street was tilled with men, women and
children, with almost continued cheering
until arriving at his residence. Here he
was received by thirty-four little girls,
emblematic ofthe thirty-four States, dress
ed in white, hearing Huwers in profusion,
forming two lines from tho carriage to
the door of his house. As the Colonel
reached his door, our Burlington Cornel
Bund poured forth its notes of “ Sweet
Home." After long cheers hnd subsided,
he thus addressed the public :
My heort is full to night—so full that I
can scarce givo adequate expression hy
tho deep emotions that crowd upon me as
I look out upon this heartfelt demonstra
tion. What a striking contrast to the
melancholy scene, hardly a fort-night ago,
when I was dragged ruthlessly from these
steps, torn mercilessly from the clinging
embraces of the dear ones at home, and
consigned to the lender mercies of the
brutal military despotism that rules with
in tlie gloomy walls of the American
Bastile. This enthusiastic reception, my
friends ; these shouts of welcome ; these
bright and happy Dices; these beautiful
flowers strewn in my pathway by auch
fair hands ; tlie cheering light of those
flaring torches, all unite to convince me
how lovingly you bear me in your hearts.
Such a reception is the more grateful to
me because it wears* double signiticancy.
It assures me, in tiic first place, that
you, my neighbor» and friend», among
whom I have gone in and out for ao many
year», deeply sympathise with me in the
wrongs and outrages to which I have
been subjected. In the second place it is
a manifestation ns strong as “Holy Writ,"
that yon believe I am wholly innocent of
any charges of disloyalty or any impu
tai ions upon my fair fame as a constitu
tion-loving citizen. Charges! did I say ♦
Why my friends, would you believe it?
from the hour that I teat taken from my
home, through the long and tvlioue day»
of my imprisonment, up to thii joyful
moment mien I look out, onre more 11» a
freeman, over three numerous kindly glad
tom fare», now upturned to greet and
cheer me, 1 hate not been able to learn
irhat thoee chargee are ! I hare in tain
demanded of the (ìocrrnmenl the nature
of the charges, and claimed the constitu
tional pririlege of bring informed of the
nature and rauei of the accusation, and
to be confronted with the witness against
me. Hut up to this hour the grave could
not have been more silent. Great Heaven!
is it possible that such things can be un
der a Constitution whose boast it has
been that it was for the protection of the
inalienable rights of -men against nil op
pression. If this boast lias been in vain
then it has “ but a name to live—an outer
seeming to beguile and deceive —a Sodom
apple, a hectic Hush, painting the cheek
upon which it preys." The liberty I
claim under that Constitution, is not the
liberty of Licentiousness—it is the liberty
united with law, liberty sustained by law,
liberty regulated by low; and that kind of
liberty is guaranteed to every man, high
or low, proud or bumble, rich or poor, un
der all exigencies, whether in peace or
war, and whether that war is foreign, or
the State he in the fearful throes of civil
strife. If the obligations we enter into to
part with a portion of imr absolute rights
when we assume the bonds of civil soci
ety, he not complied with, the State must
enforce her remedies against the citizen
only by law. In this Republic no citizen
can bo deprived of his life, his liberty or
Ids property, “ without due process of
law." lie may he made to part with all
three by the power of the State, but that
power must sec to it, that in its exercise
it does not overstep the limits in which it
is appointed to move. If it does it be
comes despotic, and then, among men who
know their rights, resistance follows as
naturally as light succeeds to darkness.—
If by a single mandate of any Cabinet of
ficer, in a Slate loyal to the Union as this
lias been, and when tile courts of law are
open, you or I may he torn froiw our
homes, without cause shown, and consign
ed to the gloomy walls of a Government
fortress, the same mandate, only altered
in its phraseology, may consign us imme
diately to the hands of the executioner, to
deprive us of our properties confiscating
them to the State, The right to have our
lives secure against interference without
“due process of law," is equally guaran
teed in the same clause that protects our
liberty and our property.
Do you ktiuw, my friends, how old
these privileges are ? They can trace
their linage back to the days of the mail
ed-dad itarons ; and these feet have stood
reverently upon the lawns of Runny mede,
where those privileges were horn more
than si* hundred years ago. They were
extorted by the rebellious Rarona, then
and there, from tile tyrant Juhn, and ut
tered in glowing language that has conic
down to us through the long vista of
ages, and is still sounding in our ears as
the sweetest note that ever came from the
clarion of freedom. Listen to its music,
strong and sweet ns it sounded in the
solemn midnight, centuries ago. “Xo
freeman shall be seized or imprisoned, or
drseited or outlawed, or in nay way des
troyed, nor will ire go upon him or send
upon him, except by the judgment of his
peers or hy the laws of the land." Our
fathers caught tlm inspiring strain, and it
was prolonged in those sonorous tones,
sounding forth from our glorious Consti
tution : “Xu person shall he deprived of
life, liberty or property, without due pro
cess of law." Cherish, my friends, these
great rights thus guaranteed to you in
your Constitution ; never surrender them;
never allow them to be compromised or
gainsaid, for they constitute the keystone
to the arch of freedom. Once destroyed,
and the sun of liberty is extinguished in
your sky, and the dark and horrid night
of despotism will wrap you in its gloomy
embrace forever. We call that govern
ment free, wldch not only shelters its sub
jects from the injustice uf the many, but
the tyrany of the one or the few. Wv,ip
a people, are free, because from an an
cient time there came laws written as
with the linger of the Highest—free, be
cause to us, in this day, it was thought
conscience and opinion were free. It is a
great thought (hat the laws of (he land
recognize there isn part shout every man's
athdrs so sacred, (hat it must not he cross
ed by inquisition or inquiry. Thu per
sonal freedom of the citizen from all ille
gal arrests ; the freedom of Ids hearth
stone from arbitrary invasion, and the
freedom of Ids conscience from all man
ner of restraint, these constitute the Urim
and the Thumim, the breast-plate of light
and truth round the heart of the Ameri
can citizen in the time of trial and dan
gery'Shd wht'ir hc demands right» that
have not been conceded to him, they will
impart a rich eloquence to his tongue, and
the mighty pathus of justice to Ids lips.
I, for my part, come weal or come woe,
will demand at the hand» of the legal tri
bunals of my country, full redress fur all
the wrongs and outrages that I have been
made to sutler. There are dastardly
wretches in your midst, who, I under
stand, have been instrumental in this ar
rest, and fur whom 1 have no regard and
utterly despise. They will be sheltered
by their own insignificance; but there are
others who shall he made to answer be
fore tlie tribunals the law has erected for
the redress of injuries. I know that there
me many pseudo patriots in your midst
whose selfish regard for their personal
safety has kept them closely at home to
spit their spite and venom upon other
men, and with whom, as Aristophanes
describes the Athenians,
“ No matter what the oßenir,
lie't great or small,
The cry it treason and conspiracy."
These unprincipled politicians are wait
ing for chances when they can fasten like
vampires on the flanks of the government,
and suck substance from this wer end not
death. In order to ingratiate tbemeelvee
with the Administration, they ■pood their
time, like noxious spiders, in spinning
webs, whose thresdli ere span from their
own fabricating brains, with which to
catch and entangle the unwary. Let the
Administration beware of these Johny
Hooks, these shoddy patriots— thè* ere
enemies to this Government "
Remember the! though ItosHy —f hs
crushed to the serri» tor a Urns ani wear
the garments of heaviness, that (he (toe
must oome when aha «hell Smart, tow su
premacy once again, pnt <■ lac gloriami
apparel, gird her «word open her wap,
and make oppression and iMitynifc tjra
I WHOLE NUMBER, 4M
refuge in th«lr duna. Ran aa Mlhf
faith in the atcrn truth eaptcaaad In the»
glorious linea of Bryant :
« Truth creaked In earth, shaft Has sgste-
Th« eternal year* of Ondare here)
But Error, woo titled, writhe* la pain.
And dies sweat her wnrshippsra.”
I bid you a moat affectionate good night.
At the citine of Col. Wall's raiasrks, the
vast crowd responded with hearty ahears,
and the band with appropriate maaic.
“ Francis, I wish you would not ait In
sudi a horrid position ; only think, your
feet are in close pioximily to those vases
on the mantle, and neat thing you WIM
knock them off, and down they will earn#
all shivered in pieces on the hearth. 1
should think you could ait in an upright
position in your chair, and not make
yourself such a disgusting spectacle ; and
then, I don't think it is eery good Man*
ners for you to turn my parlor Into a
stroking room, I heartily wish you could
not find another cigar, they ara ao of
fensive ; but you don’t consult my taates
or wishes —oh, no I"
“ Scold on, Klsie : with a little more
practice you will make a second Mrs. Cau
dle and Francis Scfft raised his feat
still higher, and gave an extra whiff to
his linvanna.
“ Remember the time, Francia MR,
when you would not smoke in my pres
ence ; and when you could sit In your
choir of sn evening without raising your
feet to the moon ; you have forgotten all
that tine regard for my feelings now : n
and Mrs. Klsie Scfft appeared considerably
piqued towards her husband. Ha was
accustomed to similar assaults from Elsie,
and did not apparently grow excited or
angry over the rebukes; but, on this oc
casion, >ie made a resolve in bis own
mind, as to the course he should taka to
prevent a future attack. lie considered
his home a place where, after the busy
cares of the day, he was at liberty to do
and act in a manner that would moot con
tribute to his comfort ; and that, tee, with
out any formality.
But Elsie also had her* own peculiar
views of the .matter, and did not Desi tale
to express her ideas whenever occasion
required. She was naturally possessed
of a fretful disposition, and the privilege
to And fault was to Iter a choice luxury.
Francis had always spent his evening* at
home, since his marriage, but, on the
evening succeeding the one already men
tioned, he took his hat and left immedi
ately after lea.
Elsie sat alone nil the evening, often
giving way to (Its of impstiénee at hie
protracted absence ; but tide waa only the
beginning of sorrow, as lie continued to
abandon his home every evening.
Three months passed in this way, du
ring which time Elsie had fretted herself
to a skeleton ; and, as yet ahe knew not
where or witli whom Francis spent ill)
long winter evenings. She decided at last
to follow him. This she did effectually,
three successive evenings, and at Neh
time lie went to the same house, eat
down as though lie was perfectly at heme,
in front of the lire that waa burning in
the grate, placed hia feet in another chair
beside bim, lit hia cigar, took a newspaper
from bis pocket, and read without inter
ruption, All this Elsie aaw hr paaping
through tha window blindo; No «me won
in the room with him ; it appeared to be
an apartment he had rented for his own
special use.
Elsie lingered at the window nnebeerved
the greater part of three evenings, and
this was all she saw ; so she was sure her
husband was not in vicious company, but
simply grstilying his own peculiar habit
and taste for freedom. She managed to
return homo in advance of him every time;
and when he arrived she would always bo
engaged with her sewing, and apparently
without a care as to wherg bo had been,
and why he was detained so very lata.
Francis was somewhat disturbed other
indifference, but he did not dream that she
was so familiar with his whereabouts and
proceedings. Elsie did not watch him
many more evevings before ahe took the
liberty to knock for admittance at hie
door. Francis opened it, and to hia great
surprise, there stood Elsie. It waaavary
cold, dark night, and instead of express
ing any great degree of wonder, that aha
had found him in hia obscure quarters, he
affectionately enquired, how, In the dark
ness of such a night, she dare venture out
so far unprotected.
“ Francis, I have come to invite you to
spend the evening with me; and I aaaura
you that you are at liberty to ait with
your feet on the mantle-piece, or wherever
you choose to place them ; and it will be
a pleasure to mo to see you smoko, or, in
fact, to do whatever you majf doom lit, if
you will only stay with mo—l am so
lonely ail alone.”
Francis was affected to tears; there, as
the two sat in the bright glow of the Ire
light, Elsie promising to cesse her fretting
and repining, and Francis assuring bar
his home would be the happiest spot on
earth in sudi a case. Muthinka themes
was worthy a witness. The roMfitem
porarily occupied by Francis waa proba
bly given up to some forlorn bachelor
who had nowhere else Kfatay.
As O'kk Thus Piovimi.— The Boston
Herald (independent) In referring tothi
extraordinary seal of dilapida tad, reject
ed, crippled, and needy politick ns for the
war, and the rejection of all partyiaei for
the sake of the Union, makes the follow
ing remarks :
“ You will Bnd tha trading poNtkku at
all public gatherings, ready to praam or
to make a speech. Ha is totoucriy patri r
otic about the war, or whatever kcppuy
to be popular at the time. Bk Mai w
unbounded, lie is ready to aocriffca bkn
self for his country. He |f dutf tMt
parly. He cannot stoop to anytklftg
which would appear like partkUMlNfrtXj
not he. He wants tha peopktoUCMÉÌMjj
gether, and throw overboard >8 MM|BE
entertain honest opinione, and vcfrMMM
cordingly, and all unite upon DumHl
trader. He ia the chap for tbouß
There k no purty am Hi about k|£s
is willing to unito with
p.rf} affair, uft^wStSßlMß
will see the no party- MsHH
has got the utfic* wiiUb pafU^j
signed to himself. Bat |Ì|Ì
knows no bounds.
man and men
to bay fraud ■ pian toli
to battere him hicnMt'lN|B
j j »f ■
1 • 1 ÌÌÌBBB
CVIBD. *

The Weekly mountain Democrat. [volume], December 28, 1861, Image 1
About The Weekly mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.) 1861-1862

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The Weekly mountain Democrat. [volume], December 28, 1861, Image 1 About The Weekly mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.) 1861-1862

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The Weekly mountain Democrat. [volume], December 28, 1861, Image 1
About The Weekly mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.) 1861-1862