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VOL. XI—NO. 44.
[written for the pioneer and democrat.] IS THE SMOKE. Prom half-closed lips on amber restiDg, The soft, blue wreaths still upward cresting; Sweetly a-dream, and, in a dream of dreams, From out the quivering smoke there gleams A picture! ****** The little hand lay soft and warm in mine, Her rich blood flushing through her face like rosy wine Through pure Bohemian ware ; her deep brown eyes Alight with all the spirit’s witcheries. The mystic throbbing of a heart I heard ; All my full soul with tender music stirred, While low I bent to hear a sweet, soft sound, Which, ere I heard, I felt, and all around Did float a glamoured gush of melody, And then—well! then,you see, unconsciously, I robbed her crimson lips of half their wine And called her mine ! The vision gone ! the type of all the love that poets sing— A mystic ideality. We grasp the pretty golden thing, And find it smoke ! St. Paul, Feb. 1,1860. ALROY. The 'Wife. From Washington Irving’s Sketch Book. The treasures of the deep are not so precious As are the concealed comforts of a man Locked up in woman’s love. I scent the air Of blessings, when I come but near the house. What a delicious breath marriage sends forth— The violet bed’s not sweeter. Middleton. I have often had occasion to remark the fortitude with which women sustain the most overwhelming reverses of fortune. Those disasters which break down the spirit of a man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and give such intrepidity and elevation to the character, that at times it approaches to sublimity. Nothing can be more touching than to behold a sott, tender female, who has been all weakness and de pendence, and alive to every trivial rough ness, while treading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in mental force to be the comlorter and support of her husband, under misfortune, and abiding with unshrink ing firmness, the bitter blasts ol As the vine, which has long twined its graceful foliage about the oak, and been lifted by it into sunshine, will, when the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling around it with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs ; so is it beautifully ordered by Providence, that wo man, who is the mere dependent and orna ment of man in his happy hours, should be his stay and solace, when smitten with sud den calamity ; winding herself into the rug ged recesses of his nature, tenderly support ing the drooping head, and binding up the broken heart. I was once congratulating a friend, who had around him a blooming family, knit to gether in the strongest aflection. “ I can wish you no better lot,” said he, with en thusiasm “ than to have a wife and children. If you are prosperous, there they are to share your prosperity, if otherwise, there they are to comfort you.’’ And, indeed, I have observed that a married man falling into misfortune is more apt to retrieve his situa tion in the world than a single one ; partly because he is more stimulated to exertion by the necesities of the helpless and beloved beings who depend upon him for subsistence; but chiefly because his spirits are soothed and relieved by domestic endearments, and his self respect kept alive by finding that, though all abroad is darkness and humilia tion, yet there is still a little world of love at home, of which he is the monarch. Whereas a single maa is apt to run to waste and self neglect; to fancy himself lonely uud abandoned, and bis heart to fall to ruin like some deserted mansion, for want of an in habitant. These observations call to mind a little domestic story of which I was a witness. My intimate friend, Leslie, had married a beautiful and accomplished girl who had been brought up in fashionable life. She had, it is true, no fortune, but that ol my friend was ample ; and he delighted in the anticipation ol indulging her in every elegaut pursuit, and administering to those delicate lastes a"d fancies that spread a kind of witchery about the sex. “ Her life,’" said he “ shall be like a fairy tale.” The very difference of their characters produced a harmonious combination ; he was of a romantic and serious cast; she was all life and gladness. I have often noticed the mute rapture with which be would gaze upon her in company, of which her sprightly powers made her the delight; and how iu the midst of applause her eye would still turn to him as if there alone she soagbt favor and acceptance. When hanging on his arm her slender form contrasted finely with his tall, manly person. The fond, con fiding air with which she looked up to him, seemed to pall forth a flush of triumphant pride and cherishing tenderness, as it he doted on his lovely burden for its helplessness. Never did a couple set forward on the flow ery path of early and well situated marriage with a fairer prospect of felicity. It was the misfortune of my friend, how ever, to have embarked his property in large speculations; he had not been married many months, when by a succession of sudden disasters it was swept from him, and he found himself reduced almost to penury. For a time he kept his situation to himself and went about with a haggard countenance and a breaking heart. IFs life was bat a pro tracted agony; and what rendered it more insupportable was the necessity of keeping np a smile in the presence of his wife ; for he could not bring himself to overwhelm her with the news. She saw, however, with the quick eye of affection that all was not well with him She marked his altered looks and stiffed sighs, and was not to be deceived by his sickly and vivid attempts at.cheerfnl ness. She tasked all her sprightly power and blandishments to win him back to hap piness ; but she only drove the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he saw cause to love her, the more torturing was the thought that he was soon to make her wretched. A little while, thought he, and the smile will vanish from that cheek—the song will die away from those lips—the lustre of those eyes will be quenched with sorrow ; and the happy heart which now beats lightly in that bosom will be weighed down like mine, by the cares and miseries of the world. At length he came to me one day and related his whole situation in a tone of deep dispair. When I heard him throngh, I in quired. “ Does your wife know all this ?” At the question he burst into an agony of tears. “ For God’s sake!” cried he, “if you have any pity on me, don’t mention my wife; it is the thought of her that drives me almost to madness.” “And why not ?” said I. “ She must know it sooner or later; you cannot keep it long from her, and the intelligence may hreak upon her in a more startling manner than if imparted by yourself; for the accents of those we love soften the harsher tidings. Besides, you are depriving yourself of the comfort of sympathy; and not merely that, but endangering the only bond that can keep hearts together—an unreserved community of thought and feeling. She will soon perceive that something is secretly preying upon ydur mind, and true love will not brook reserve; it feels undervalued and outraged, when even the sorrows of those it loves are concealed from it.” “0! but my friend! to think what a blow I am going to give to all her future prospects. How lam to strike her very soul to the earth, by telling her that her husband is a beggar! that she is to forego all the elegancies ol life—all the pleasures of gay society—to shrink with me into indigence and obscurity 1 To tell her that I have dragged her down from thesphere in which she might have continued to move in constant brightness —the light of every eye—the admiration of every heart! How can she bear poverty?—she has been the idol of society. Oh it will break her heart, it will break her heart.” I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it have its flow ; for sorrow relieves itself by words. When bis paroxysm had subsided, and be bad relapsed into moody silence, I resumed the subject gently, and urged him to break his situation at once to his wife. He shook his head mournfully but positively. ‘ But how are you to keep it from her? It is necessary that she should know it, that you may take the steps proper to the alteration of your circumstances. You must change your Btyle of living—,” observing a pang to pass across his countenance, “don’t let us uffl.ct you. lam sure you have never placed your happiness in outward show— you have yet Iriends—warm friends, who will not think the worse of you for being less spieqjiidly lodged; and surely it does not require a palace to be happy with Mary .” “ I could live with her,” he cried, convulsively, “in a hovel 1 I could go down with her into poverty and the dust! I could— -1 could—God bless her,” cried he, bursting into a transport of grief and tenderness. “And believe me, my friend,” said I, stepping up and grasping him warmly by the baud, “believe me, she can be the same with you. Ay, more; it will be a source ol pride and triumph to her—it will call forth all the latent energies and fervent sympathies of her pature; lor she will rejoice to prove that she loves you for yourself. There is l every true woman’s heart a spark of heaveuiy fire which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity ; but which kindles up, and beams and bluzes in the dark hour oi adversity. No man knows what the wife of his bosom is—no man knows what a mioisiering angel she is—until be has gone with her through the fiery trials of this W/or.d.” There was something in the earnestness of my mauuer, and the figurative style of my language that caught the excited imagination oi Leslie. I knew the auditor 1 hud to deal with; and following up tbe impression I had made, I finished by purßusdmg. him to go home, and unburden ins sad heart to his wife. *. I must confess, notwithstanding* all I had said, 1 felt some little solicitude for the result. Who can calculate on the fortitude of one whose life has been a round of pleasure ? Her gay spirit might revolt at the durk, downward path of low humility suddenly pointed out before, and might SAINT PAUL. FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 1860. cling to the sunny regions in which they had hitherto revelled. Besides, ruin in fashionable life is accompanied by so many galling mortifications to which in other ranks it is a stranger. In short, I could not meet Leslie the next morning witout anticipation. He made the disclosure. “Aud how did she bear it ?” “Like an angel! It seeni3 rather to be a relief to her mind, for she threw her arms around my neck and asked if this was all that had lately made me unhappy. But, poor girl,” added he, “she cannot realize the change we must undergo. She had idea of poverty but in the abstract; she has only read of it in poetry, where it is allied to love. She feels as yet no privation ; she suffers no loss of accustomed conveniences or elegancies. When we come particularly to experience its sordid cares, its paltry wants, its petty humiliations—then will be the real trial.” “Bat,” I said, “now that you have got over the severest test, that of breaking it to her, the sooner you let the world into the secret the better. The disclosure may be mortifying; but then it is a single misery, and soon over ; whereas yon otherwise suffer it in anticipation, every hour in the day. It is not poverty not so much as pretence, that harasses ruined man—the struggle between a proud mind and an empty purse, the keeping np a hollow show that it mast soon come to an end. Have the courage to appear poor, and yon disarm poverty of its sharpest sting.” On this point I found Leslie quite prepared. He had no false pride himself, and as to his wife, she was only anxious to conform to theii altered circumstance. Some days afterwards he called upon me in the evening. He bad disposed of his dwelling house and taken a small cottage in the country, a few miles. He had been busied all day in sending out furniture. The new establishment required few articles, and those of the simplest kind. All the furni ture of his late residence had been sold, ex cept his wife’s harp. That, he said, was too closely associated with the idea of her self ; it belonged to the little story of their loves ; for some of the sweetest moments of their courtship were those when he had leaned over that instrument, and listened to the melting tones of her voice. I could but smile at this instance of romantic galantry in a doting husband. He was now going out to the cottage, where his wife had been all day superintend ing its arrangements. My feelings had be come strongly interested in the progress of this family story, and as it was a fine eve ning, I offered to accompany him. He was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and as he walked out, lell into a fit of gloomy musing. “ Poor Mary,” at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from his lips. “ And what ol her ? ” asked I; “ has anything happened to her? ” “ What,” said he, darting an impatient glance, “ is it nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation —to be caged in a miserable cottage—to be obliged to toil almost in the menial concerns of her wretched habita tion ? ” “ Has she then repined at the change ? ” “ llepined 1 she has been nothing but sweetness and good humor. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than 1 have ever known her ; she has been to me all love, and tenderness and com lor t! ” “Admirable girl” exclaimed I. “You call yourself poor, my friend ; you never were so rich—you never knew the' boundless treasures of excellence you possess in that woman.” “ O ! but, my friend, if this first meeting at the cottage was over, I think I could then be comfortable. But this is her first day of real experience; she has been intro duced into a humble dwelling—she has been employed 11 day in arranging its miserable equipments—she has, for the first time, known the fatigues of domestic employment —she has, for the first time, looked around her on a home destitute of everything elegant —almost of everything convenient; and may now be sitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future poverty.” There was a degree of probability in this picture that I could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence. After turning from the main road up a narrow lane, so thickly shaded with forest trees as to give it a complete air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage It was humble enough in its appearance for the most pastoral poet; and yet it had a pleas ing rural look. A wild vine had overrun one end with a profusion of foliage; a few trees threw their branches gracefully over it; and I also observed several pots of flowers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass plot in front. A small wicket gate opened upon a foot path that wound through some shrubbery to the door. Just as we approached, we heard the sound of music— Leslie grasped my arm; we paused and listened. It was Mary’s voice singing, in a style of the most touching simplicity, a little air of which her husband was peculiarly fond. I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my „nxi. He stepped forward to hear nore distinctly. His step made a noise cn tie gr»vel walk. A bright, beautifo’ '~':e glanced oat of the window and van: u. • —lignt footstep was heard—and Mary came tripping forth to meet us ; she was in a pretty rural dress of white ; a few wild flowers were twisted in her fine hair; a fresh bloom was on her cheek ; her whole countenance beamed with smiles—l had never seen her look so lovely. “ My dear George,” she cried, “ I am so glad you are come! I have been watching and watching for you ; and running down the lane and looking for you. I’ve set out a table irn’er a beautiful tree behind the cottage ; and I’ve been gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them—and we have such excellent cream—and every thing is so sweet and still here—o !” said she, putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, “ 0, we shall be so happy !” Poor Leslie was overcome. He caught her to his bosom—he folded his arms around he—he kissed her again and again—he could not speak, but tne tears gushed into his eyes ; and he has often assured me, that though the world has since gooe prosperously with him, and his life has been indeed a happy one, yet never has he experienced a moment of more exquisite felicity. Foreign News—England and France. The America has arrived at Halifax with English dates to the 15th ult. She brings the news that England has formally declined to join with France in a collective note to all the Cabinets of Enrope, that any inter., vention in Central Italy by a foreign power, should be regarded by France and England as casus belli. The British Cabinet, while expressing its readiness to support the principle of non intervention, either at the Congress or in its communications with the foreign powers, pointed out the impossibility of pledging itself, without the consent of Parliament, to a course of policy which might possibly involve hostilities. The feelings of the Northern Courts gave rise to some fear that Europe would' not passively submit to so threatening an intimation, and which also implied the adoption of principles opposed to the independence of every State which possesses the right of forming alliances as it may think proper, at its own risk and peril. The British Cabinet having declined the propositions to enter into engagements having such an important bearing, an early meeting of the European Congress was again advised. In case the French Emperor gets em broiled with Austria and the Pope, he evidently counts upon the sympathies of England. It is rumored that a majority of French Bishops have expressed themselves ready to launch into public notice against the French government; but Rome hestitates to give the signal. At Vienna it is fully believed that the government intends openly and actively to interfere in Central Italy in favor of the exiled Dukes and the Papal Government The pastoral of the Archbishop of Vienna* published in the’ Weiner Zeitung of the lltb, confirms the fear. A stormy meeting of the Great Eastern Steamship Company had been held in Lon don. A report was presented showing the position of the company, and announcing the resignation of the Board. A resolution to receive the report was followed by an amendment that before doing so a commit tee of investigation be appointed. After a warm discussion it was resolved to decide itne question by ballot. The result was expected to be made known on the day the America sailed. The meetiug stood ad* journed till the 17th of January. The London Times editorially criticises the financial statement of the American government, and points out that owmg to the youth of the one State and the mi urity of the other, there is the strongest possiole analogy between the respective proceedings of England and America. In another leader, the same journal ex patiates on Mexican affairs in connection with the President’s message. It says there is not a question but that the Americas, if they pleased, could march to Mexico, nor is it to doubted that the advance would b attended with at least the temporary beiiefi of tranquility. Saving British interest, should look on such a prow ding with the least satisfaction. But if Mr. Buchanan’s description of Mexico is a fa thful picture, it will require far more than one casual intervention to restore the country to the rank of an organized State. Trial of Stevens. Charlestown, Feb. 2. —The town is thronged to day, to witness the trial of Ste vens, one of the Harper’s Ferry conspira tors. At 11 o’clock, the court opened—Judge John Kinny, of Rockingham, presiding. After the Judge’s charge to the Jury, they retired to their room, and after an absence of an hour, they returned with a bill against Stevens, charging him with murder and treason, and conspiring with slaves to excite rebellion. An indictment of the same char acter was shortly afterwards returned against Hazlett. The work of empanneling a Jury in the case of Stevens, was postponed until to-mor row. The Trial of Stephens, one of the Har per’s Ferry Conspirators. The trial of A. D. Stephens, one of the Harper’s Ferry Conspirators, commenced at Charlestown, Va, on the Ist, before Judge John Kenny, of Rockingham, Va. Messrs. Harding and Hunter appeared for the State, and Geo. Sennett, Esq., of Bos ton, for the defence. The Judge, in deliver ing his charge, said of the Harper’s Ferry invasion : “It is known to you, and is now a part of the history of the country, that on the night of the 16th of October last, a band of traitors, murderers and incendiaries stealth ily made a descent on the soil of Virginia, in the county of Jefferson, and wantonly murdered several of our citizens and people, with the design to incite our slaves to revolt and to subvert our government. Some of these desperadoes, and others, the dupes of cowards, were captured, tried and punished according to their deserts. But there are some engaged, or supposed to have been en gaged in this foray, who have not as yet been apprehended, and others who are be lieved to have been actively engaged in this tragedy, but who are not yet known to the public. “ It will be your duty, and I believe your pleasure also, to inquire who was guilty of polluting our soil, and attempting to dis honor Virginia. I deem it necessary for me to recommend you to conduct your in quiries with that coolness, justice and good sense which has distinguished your prede cessors in their inquisitions, and which has met the approbation of the patriotic and good citizens of our common country. So conduct your inquiries that the bright es cutcheon of your beloved state shall not be dimmed by passion or groundless suspicion, and also let them be conducted without fear, favor or affection, as you may elicit the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” The grand jury returned a true bill against Stephens, charging him with murder and treason, and with conspiracy to incite slaves to create rebellion. An indictment of a similar character was found against Hazlett. The only military force on guard at Charles town, is a company of twenty cavalry. Charlestown, Va., Feb. 2. —The court opened at 10 o’clock this morning, Judge John Kenny presiding. Mr. Stevens was brought in by the jailor and his guard, in seeming perfect health. Mr. Sennot suggested to the common' wealth the propriety of announcing whether it would elect to try one or all the counts, or whether they relied upon one or all for conviction. He also read a letter from Pre sident Buchanan in regard to inquiries in regard to the trial. He thought the com monwealth had acted in good faith to the prisoners, in removing the case to the federal court and then receding from that determi nation, and thought the indictment ought to be quashed. He appealed to the mercy of the court, for it certainly would be an act of mercy to send the prisoner to Stanton for trial. Mr. Harding, for the commonwealth, had not made a proposition for removal, and had strongly protested against that through out the trial. He was at present willing to turn them all over to the federal authorities, but alter the state decided to try them he was opposed to any change of trial. He did not consider Gov. Wise had authority to make the change. Mr. Hunter denounced as utterly untrue the assertiou of Mr. Sennot, that Stevens was forced to plead at the late term of the court. Mr. Sennot disclaimed any intention to reflect on any one, and spoke eloquently of the siate of Virginia, hoping his tongue might wither before he would speak in any but terms of praise of the state. When the offer was made to send Stevens to Stanton, he thought he should better ac cept the offer, for it was a matter of life and death, and he might share the fate of Browa. Judge Kenny, after stating bis under standing of the motion of Mr. Sennot, said there was nothing to show that he ever made a legal surrender of the prisoner. He would pay no attention to political influences, and the prisoner would have as fair a trial as any southern man could have. He could only look on it as an appeal of the counsel for the defense to trasfer the case, and would have to reject the appeal. Mr. Harding moved a nolle prosequi on the old indictments, as the prisoners would have to be tried on the indictment brought in yesterday. Mr. Sennot requested the commonweath to select one count in the indictment, in or'- der to render the case les3 complicated, and in justice to the prisoner. Mr. Hunter replied, ouoting a number of authorities to show the legality of the course taken, and declining to recede from any count on the indictment, deeming than all necessary. Lord Clyde’s share of the India p’nnder is stated by an English paper as £120,000 sterling. Clyde is the best soldier of fortune on record. NEW SERIES-NO. 217. The Lawrence Catastrophe—Verdict of the Coroner’s Jury. Lawrence, Mass., Feb. 3. —The Jury of Inquest of the Pemberton Mill calamity rendered their verdict last evening. It is quite lengthy, embracing a careful review of the testimony. The Jury find that from all the evidence adduced before them, they do not believe that the owners of said mill, at the time of the demolition, ever had reason to distrust its security. The Jury further find that the fire origin ated after the fall of the said mill ; was caused by the accidental breaking of a lan tern in the hands of some person to them unknown, and at the time actually engaged in aiding and assisting in rescuing the suf ferers then alive and beneath the flooring of the mill; upon all of which several findings the Jury determine and say that the direct cause of the fall of the mill was the weakness and insufficiency of the cast iron sheeting, the thinness of the brick walls, and the manner of construction. The length of span from one support to another beneath the floor timber, were ad ditional causes, and aided in the general demolition of the building, and that so far as the actual defects in the cast iron pillars existed, responsibility rested upon Albert Fuller, the former contracting agent and foreman of the Eagle Iron Fonndary, then at West Boston. That upon 0. L. Bigelow, the architect, as well as the superintendent of this struc ture, rests all the responsibility, arising from an insufficient test of said pillars and from any and every direct weakness from inse curity in or about the general construction of said building. That the walls were built under his supervision. That the timbers and flooring were in every respect construct ed as he originally designed. The inner sup ports of cast iron previous to erection, had his approval, and were by him adopted as in all parts safe and secure. That such in spection as he required was given to the iron pillars, and that any want of skill in designing, any error of judgment in approv ing and adopting, and any want of due care and caution in properly testing the different parts of the structure on his part appearing to that extent rendered him re sponsible for the direful catastrophe, in volving the death of these 122 human beings. Mr. Pennington's Speech, Mr. Pennington, upon his election, was conducted to the Speaker’s Chair, by Messrs. Bocock and Sherman. Amid a quiet that strangely contrasted with the pre vious excitement, Mr. P. made the following graceful speech : Gentlemen of the House of Representatives : I return you my grateful acknowledgments for the distinguished . honor you have been pleased to confer upon me, iB electing me Speaker of this House. Coming here for the first time, at the present, to be associated with you as a member, no event could have been more unlooked for than that I should be called upon to preside over your deliber ations; and my friends will do me the jus tice to say that I have nSt sought the posi tion, as I certainly never desired it. I am nevertheless as conscious of the dignity and importance of this high office as any gentle man can b<, but should have been far better pleased could its have been instrusted to abler and more experienced hands. After witnessing the almost insurmountable ob stacles in the way of an organization of this House, I came to the conclusion that a gentleman of any party who could command a majority of the votes for Speaker, was bound, in deference to the public exigencies, to accept the responsibility as an act of patriotic duty, whether it was agreeable to his personal feelings or not. As that choice has unexpectedly fallen on me, I have not hesitated to accept it. In the execution of this high trust, my object will be to do my duty with impartiality and justice to all. I shall have great necessity, gentlemen, lor your indulgence in the new position in which I am placed ; and I feel entire confidence that 1 shall receive it at your hannds. As a Representative from the State of New Jersey, upon whose soil so many brill ant achievements were accomplished in the revolutionary war, and whose people have ever been distinguished for their devotion to the Constitution and the Union, I pray to the Great Arbiter of our destinies that I may do no act to impair the integrity of either, but that by wise and prudent coun sels, peace and order may yet reign in our midst, and our free institutions may be per petuated to our descendants. I feel that 1 have a national heart, embracing all parts of our blessed Union. Again thanking vou for your kindness, I now enter upor/the duties of that arduous and complicated sta tion. Jahes Stephenson, the wife-poisoner, whose repeated trials occupied so much at tention in New York, was hung on Friday last. The execution took place in the prison yard. About 200 persons were present. He met his fate firmly, and was attended at the scaffold by three clergymen. He died pro testing his innocengp.