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VOL XVIL-NO, 19.
THE TWO WORLDS. From the Dublin University Magazine. Two worlds there are. To one our eyes we strain— Whose magic jovs we shall not see again; Bright haze of morning veils its glimmering shore. Ah truly breathed we there Intoxicating air— . . # we re oar hearts in that sweet realm of Nevermore. The lover there drank her delicious breath Whose lore has yielded since to change or death; The mother kissed her child, those days are o’er. Alas! too soon have fled The irreclaimable dead; We see them—visions strange—amid the Nevermore. The merry song some maiden need to sing— The brown, brown hair that once was wont to ding To temples long clay-cold; to the very core They strike oar weary hearts, As some vexed memory & tarts From that long faded land—the realm oi Nevermore. It is perpetual summer there. Bnt here Sadly we may remember rivers dear And harebells quivering on the meadow floor. For brighter bells and bluer, For tender hearts and truer People that happy land—the realm of Nevermore. Upon the frontier of this shadowy land We pilgrims of eternal sorrow stand; What realm lies forward with its happier shore Of forests green and deep, Of valleys hushed in «leep. And lakes most peaceful ? Tis the land Of evermore. Very far off its marble cities seem— Very far off—beyond our sensual dream— Its woods unruffled by the wild winds’ roar; Tet does the turbulent surge Howl on its very verge. One moment—and we breathe within tne Evermore. Those whom we loved and lost so long ago Dwell in those cities far from mortal woe— Haunt those fresh woodlands whence sweet carollngs soar, Eternal pieace have they; God wipes their tears away : They drink that River of Life that flows from Evermore Thither we hasten through these regions dim; But lo! the wide wings of the Beraphim Shine in the snnset. On that joyons shore Our lighted hearts shall know The life of long ago; The sorrow-burdened post shall fade for Evermore. THE COINERS. From the Diary of a Detective. During the year 1847 the West was flooded with a counterfeit coin. It was so well manufactured that it passed readily. The evil at last became so great that the United States authorities requested that a skillful deteotive might be sent to ferret out the nest of coiqers. I was fixed upon to perform that doty. I had nothing to guide me. The tact, however, that Chicago was the city where the counterfeit coin was most abundant, led me to suspect that the manufactory was somewhere within its limits. It was, therefore, to the capital of the West that I proceeded. I spent five weeks in the city without gaining the slightest clue to the counterfeiters. I began to grow discouraged, and really thought I should be obliged to return home without having achieved any result One day I received a letter from my wife re questing me to send some money, as she was out of funds. I went to tie bank and asked for a draft, at the same time handing a sum of money to pay for it, in which there were several half dollars. The clerk pushed three of them back to me, saying, “Counterfeit >’ “What!”said I, “you don’t mean to tell me those halt dollars are counterfeit?” “Ido.” “ Are you oertain ?” “ Perfectly certain. They are remark ably well executed, but are deficient in weight. See for yourself. ” And be plaoed one of them in the bal ance against a genuine half dollar, and the latter brought np the former. “ This is the beet counterfeit ooin l ever saw in my life,” I exclaimed, examining them closely. “Is all the counterfeit money in circulation here of the same character as this ?” “ O drer, no,” the clerk replied, “it is not nearly so well done. These are the work of the famous New York counterfeit er, Ned Willett. I know them well, for I have handled a great many in my time Here is some of the money that is circu lating here,” he added, taking half dollars from a drawer. “You see that the mill ing is not so well done as Ned Willett’s, although this is pretty good too.” I compared the two and found that he was right. I supplied the place of the three counterfeits with good coin, end re turned the former to my pocket. A few days after this I received infor mation which caused me to take a journey to a small village about thirty miles from Chicago. I arrived there at night and took up my quarters at the only tavern in the place. It was a wretched dwelling, and kept by an old man and woman, the surliest couple, I think, it ever been my lot to meet. In answer to whether I could have a lodging there that night, I noticed that the host gave a particular look at his wife, and after some whisper ing I was informed in the most ungracious manner pomibte that I could have a bed. I have frequently in the course of my life been obliged to put up with wretohed accommodations, so I did not allow my equanimity of temper to be destroyed by the miserable sleeping apartments into whioh I was ushered after I had finished my repast. The chamber was of small size, and cer tainly well ventilated, for I could see the stars through the roof. The bed was sim ply a bag of straw, thrown into one corner of the room, without sheet or covering of any kind. This last fact, however, was not much consequence, as it was summer and oppressively hot. I stood for more than an hour gazing out of the opening which served for a win dow. Before me was an immense prairie, the limits of whioh I could not see. The tavern in whioh I had taken np my abode appealed to be isolated from all other dwellings, and save the croak of the tree toad and the hum of the locust, not a sound reached my ear. It was a beauti ful moonlight night, so bright that I could see to read the smallest print At last I began to grow weary, and throwing myself on my pallet I was soon plunged in deep slamber.. How long I slept I know not, bat I was awakened by a dull sound, which resembled some one hammering in the distance. I suppose it was the peculiarity of ttie sound whioh awoke me, for it was by no means load, but conveyed to me the idea of some one striking iron with a muffled hammer. I rose from my bed and went to the window. The moon was now in the western horizon, by whioh fact I knew that it mast be near morning. The sound I have before referr ed to reached me more distinctly than when in the baok part of the chamber. It appeared to oorae from some outhouses whioh were situated a hundred yards from the house. Now I am naturally of an inquiring mind, and this sound, occurring as it did in the middle of the night, piqued my curiosity, and I felt an * irrepressible de sire to go out and disoover the cause of it The desire, as the sound continued, grew upon me with such intensity that I re solved to gratify it at any price. ‘ I put on my boots, the only article of attire I bad discarded, and cautiously opened the door of my chamber and noise lessly descended the rickety staircase. A tew steps brought me into the lower ap partment, which I found entirely deserted. I crept quietly to the window, and unfast ening it without making the slightest noise, was soon in the moonlight Not a soul was visible, but the sound I have mentioned grew much more distinct as I approached the plaoe from whenoe it proceeded. At last I found myself before a long, low building, through the orevioes of which I could peroeive a lurid glare issuing. I stooped down and peeped through the key-hole, and to my extreme surprise I saw half a dozen men, with their ooats off and sleeves np, performing a va riety of strange occupations. Some were working at a forge, others were superin tending the casting of moulds, and some were engaged in the prooess of mining ooin. In n moment the whole truth burst upon me. Here was the gang of coun terfeiters I was in search of, ana the land lord and his wife evidently belonged to the same band, for in one corner I per ceived them employed,—the man polish ing off some half dollar pieces, and the woman was packing the finished coin into rolls. I had seen enongh and was about to re turn to my apartment, 'when I suddenly felt a heavy hand pressed on my shoulder, and turning my head around, to my hor ror found myself in the grasp of as ill looking a scoundrel as ever escaped the gallows. “ What are you doing here, my good tellow?” be exclaimed giving me a shake. “ Taking a stroll by moonlight,” Ire plied, endeavoring to retain my compo sure. “Well, perhaps you will just take a stroll inside, will you ?” returned the ruf fian, pushing open the door, and dragging me in after him. All the inmates of the barn immediate ly stopped work and 'rushed toward us when they saw me. “Why, what’s all this ? ” they exclaimed. “ A loafer I found peepin' outside.” said my captor. “ He* a traveler that came to the tav ( era last night and asked for lodging; the * last I saw of him he was safe in bed,” said the landlord. The men withdrew to a corner of the apartment, leaving one to keep guard over me. I soon saw they were in earnest consultation, and wens evidently debating some important question. The man keep ing guard over me said nothing, but soowl ed fiercely. I had not said a angle word SAINT PAUL. FRIDAY. NOVEMBER 10, 1865* ’ during all the time I had been in the barn. I was aware that whatever I might say would in all probability do more harm than good, and it has always been a max im of mine, to hold my tongue when in donbt At last the discussion seemed to be ended, for the blackest of the whole came forward, and without any introduo .tion, exclaimed, — “I say, stranger, look here, you most die!” I did not move a muscle or utter a word. “ You have found oat oar secret, and dead men tell no tales.” I was silent. “We will give you ten minutes to say your prayers, and also allow you the priv ilege of being shot or hung.” Suddenly an idea struck me. I remem bered something that might save my life. I burst into a violent fit of laughter, in feet it wu hysterical, but they did not know it. Tihey looked at one another in amaze ment “Well, he takes f it mighty 0001, any how,” said one. “Sappoee he don’t think we are in ear nest,” said another. “Gome, stranger, you had better say* your prayers,” said the first speaker, 'time flies.” My only reply was a fit of laughter more violent than the first. “The man’s mad,” they exclaimed. “Or drunk,” said some. “Well, boys,” cried I, speaking for the first time, “this is the best joke I have ever seen. What, hang a pal?” “A pal—you a pal?" “ I ain't nothin' else,” was my elegant rejoinder. “Wbat’s yonr name?” “Did you ever hear of Ned Willett ?” I replied. “You may be certain of that. Ain’t he the heed of our profession ?” “Well, then, I'm Ned. ” “Yon Ned Willett?” they all exclaimed at once. “You may bet your life on that, ” I re turned, swaggering up to the corner where I had seen the old woman coanting and packing the oouuterieit half dollars. Fortune favored me. None of the men present had ever seen Ned Willett, al though his reputation was well known to them, and my swaggering, insolent man ner had somewhat thrown them off their guard, yet I could plainly see that their doubts were not all removed. “ And yon call these thing* well done, do yoa ?” I asked, taking np a roll of the money. “ Well, all I have to say is that if you cant do better than this, you had better shut up shop—that's all.” “Gan you show us any better ?” asked one of the men. “ I rather think I can. If I couldn’t, I’d hang myself. ” “Let’s see it,” they all cried. This was my last coup , and one on which my life depended. “Look here, gentlemen,” I exclaimed, taking one of the counterfeit half dollars from my pocket that bad been rejected at the bank, “ here is my last job; what do you think of it?” It was handed hand-to-hand, some say ing it was no counterfeit at all, and some saying it was. “ How will you prove it ia a counter feit?” asked one. “ By weighing it witu a genuine one,” I replied. This plan was immediately adopted and its character proved. “ Perhaps be got this by accident,” I heard a man whisper to another. “Try these,” I said, taking the other two out of my pocket. All their doubts now vanished. “ Beautiful!” exclaimed some. “ Very splendid! ” said others. When they had examined them to their satisfaction, they all cordially took me by the hand, every particle of donbt having vanished from their minds. I earned on my part well. Some questions were occa sionally asked me involving some technic alities of the busine*-: these, however, I avoided, by stating t at I was on a jour ney, and would rather take a glass of whisky than answer questions. The whis ky was produced and we made a night of it. It was not until morning dawned that we separated. The next day I returned to Chicago and brought down the necessary assistance, and captured the whole gang of counterfeiters in the very act. The den was broken up forever, and most of them were con demned to serve a term in the State Prison. I have those half-dollars still in my pos session, and never intend to part with them, for they werd certainly the means of saving my life. Hogk Squashes—We were shown this morn ing, some of the hugest squashes we have ever seen, as the production or the soil in this city. They woe raised by M. J. Laird. The largest one measures five feet in circumference, and weighs sixty-fire pounds. Another one is tour feet nine inches around, and weighs fifty-five pounds. Mr. Laird raised a wagon load of these squashes from a space of ground two rods square. Beat that, ye garden croakers.— IFinona KepmbHam. Natural History of Babies. Babies are of two kinds, male and fe male, and are usually put up in packages of one, though sometimes two, in. which, cases they are oalled twins, when nearly of the same age. They are not confined* to any particular locality, but are found plen tifully distributed over all parts of the in habited countries. Their twee are various and have a wide range. We have known them aa young as *tis easy to calculate time on a watch dial, and then again we have seen them where they have acquired the healthy age of with a fair prospect of advancing still further into* babyhood. Their weight depends a greet deal on their heft; hut as they have twenty-one years to grow ia before it eests them anything, it don’t matter so* mush how big they happen to be when they commence. Probably babiee have more pet names than any other article of their size. In the tender yean of life, say the first two, they are lovingly addressed by such en dearing names as Old Beautiful, Sweet ness, Honeyoomb, Him Darling, Papa's Hope, Old Ble«ed, Mamma's Joy, Noble Andsoms, supposed to be a contraction of Old Handsome, and hundreds of other appellations whioh we never could trans late. For several yean, until they get old enough to play out of doers and soil their feoes, their lives are one long continuous game of Copenhagen, everybody laboring under the delusion that all babies are for is to kiss, consequently, to see one is to kiss it We cannot recollect of ever find ing ourself in the presence of a baby, but what the mother would say to it, “Now be a good little deary, and give gentleman a nice kiss.” Of course we accept it, though kissing ain’t our forte. We are naturally modest, and don't care to be seen kissing anybody. We don’t hanker after it aa some of oar friends do. We are willing to kiss a pretty girl occasion ally for her mother’s sake, or even for her own, rather than have any trouble, yet think, if said pretty girl owed ns a mss, we should much prefer to have it remain on interest to having it paid when it be came due; we should never present our bill and demand payment—not if we con tinued perfectly sane. We understand that there are quite a number of persons who differ from ns in regard to kissing; if so let them differ, we cannot stop to argue the point, as our subject treats of babies. The monotony of babies* lives Is varied by such little incidents as an attack of the measles, mumps or croup. We would not neglect to speak of cutting teeth. A baby that has safely got through all these infan tine troubles is considered worth some seventy-five dollars more than one who has them in prospect. The diseases are, how ever, easily treated, and in case of the measles all that is neoeseary is to have them “ break out ” well, and see to it that they dost “strike in.” With mumps, just let them “ mump ” round a day or two* and they will oome out all right. With the croup it is neoeseary to “ strike ile gen* erally, “goose ile "-and it applied in sea son, twill soon lubricate the throat with out much trouble. Gutting teeth rue longer than either of the other riisoasca, yet by a timely investment in a rubber ring and rattle yon get rid of a doctor's bilL When we were young, we cut oar teeth on a silver dollar, bat aa dollars are now made of paper, they don’t stand the wear and tear of a whole set of teeth, and it is cheaper in the end to invest in a rubber ring. Learning to walk and talk are two achievements about whioh too much can not be said. The walking, though it is a mere nothing compared with talking, yet it ia more dangerous, and accidents oftener ooonr; still they acquire the art with neo essary breaking of some crockery or fur niture whioh they frantically clutch in or der to save a fall. Daring the season of practicing, nothing can drop in the boose, or at least noise be made, but what mother will not drop whatever she has in Ler hand aad cry out: “There goes Willie: what has he done now ? ” and rash to the scene of action to find a flower-pot on the floor, and Willie engaged in scattering its con tents about the room. After clearing np the debris, the mother returns to her work, thanking her stars that it was only a choioe verbena that was ruined and not Willie* neck. Their conversation in the beginning is little difficult to understand. They ab breviate a great deal, and throw aside all pronouns as perfectly useless. Listening to their talk is like attending an Italian Opera; one hears the noise, but cannot understand what it means. The first “ papa ” or ** mamma,’ distinctly spoken, is worth five dollars to either of the de lighted parents. Babiee must not only talk themselves, but must be talked to ; and the amount of baby talk used in a common sized family is prodigious. Ba by* appearance opens a new field to aIL The old bands who have seen babies be fore converse in the language quite fluent ly, but tis ludicrous to hear a beginner ndertake to master this difficult tongue, i alking baby talk is an art whioh few ever acquire to perfection, though, by a con stant practice, the most stupid can par tially acquire it, yet it takes two or three generations of babies to make a perfect linguist. The effect a baby produoes on a family, no matter how sober stud' family may be, is weadsrftd to behold. It completely tune the heads of aIL If any particular one behave more insane, or is carried away more than the rest, we think grand ma will bear off the palm, although pa, ma, grandpa, aunt, uncle, and a long list of oousius are not oounted oat by any meana. We think the mother aotsthe meat though even she baa her weak points in regard to baby, and will occasionally exhibit a traoe of insanity when dilating upon his charms and aooem pKjahments. The effect babiee have on. progression is sett-evident. No one ever knew a baby inferior to any preceding baby. On the oontrary, each one is a little in advance of any yet born; and when- we think of the vast numbers yet to be, and how eve ry one will be a trifle superior to its pre decessor, what a glorious future awaits us! Wa shall eventually reach perfection How can these persons who believe that we retrograde instead of progress, recon cile this fact with their absurd theory ? Some people, a little enthusiastic, look upon a baby “ as a thing of beauty and a joy forever.” Now we have seea some whom we thought had a liberal discount on their beauty and their “joy forever " would quickly vanish on having to oom menoe to cry and “ refuse to be comfort ed,” when left in oar and wa busily engaged in reading and writing. It mast be oomforting to a man, no mat ter how ugly or despised he may be, to think he was onoe a baby, beloved by a lar;e circle of relatives and friends. It is a oomfort we would not deny him. There are qnite a number of this world's people who were not loving babies a great while; they arrived at years when people cease to love them qnite early in life, and have never been babies since. Babies resemble wheat in many respects. Firstly—neither are good for much till they arrive at maturity. Seoondly—both are bred in the bouse; also the flower of the family. Thirdly—both have to be cradled. Fourthly—both are generally well thrashed before they are done with. \ Daniel O’Gonnell. How He Sfielehcd a Termagant. One of the drollest scenes of vituperation that the late Daniel OLonnell ever fijfored in, took place in the es j part of his life. Not long after he was called to the bar, his peculiar character and talents received speedy recogni tion from all who knew him. His talent for vituperative language was by some, even then, considered matchless. However, there was at that time in Dublin a certain woman—Biddy Moriarty by name—who had a huckster’s stall oßioae end of the quarry, nearly opposite the Four Courts. She was a virago of the first or der. very able with her fists, and atm more formidable with her tongue. From one end of Dublin to the other she wm notorious for her powers of abuse, and even in Aa provinces Mrs. Moriarty* language had passed into currency. The dictionary of Dublin slang had been considerably enlarged by Isr, and her voluble impudence had almost become proverbial. Some of OtlonneU’s friends, however, thought he could heather at the use of her own weapons. Of this, however, he had some doubts himself when he had listened once or twice to some minor specimens of her billingsgate. It was mooted once whether the young Ker ry banister coaid encounter her, and one of the company (in O’ConneH’s presence) rather ridiculed the idea of his being able to meet ttw famous Biddy. O'Connell never liked the idea of his being pat down, and so be confessed Ms.readiness to encounter her, and even hacked himself for the match. The affair was soon spoken of publiely, and bets were offered and taken, and it was decid ed that the matter should come off at once. The party adjourned to the hucksters stall; and there was the owner herself, aaperintead ing the sale of her small wares. A few loung ers and ragged Idlers were also hanging round the stall, for Biddy was a "character, and, in her way, was one of the sights of Dublin. Dan was very confident of success. He had laid a very ingenious plan for overcoming her, and, with all the anxiety of an ardent experi mentalist, waited to pat It in practice. At this time O’Connell* own party aad the loungers about the place formed an audience unite suffi cient to rouse Mrs. Moriarty, on pome provo cation, to a due exhibition of her scolding powers. O’Coonell walked up to her stall and com menced the attack by saying: , " What* the price of this walking stick, Mrs. What’s-your-name ?” " Moriarty. sir. is my name, and a good eoe it is, too, and what have you to. say agio it? Wan and-eixpence is the price of the stick. Troth, it’s chape as dirt, so it is.” “ One-and-eixpenee for sach a walking-stick! Whew! why, you are no better than an im poster to ask one-and-sixpence for what coat only two pence.” “Tuppence, your grandmother!” replied Biddy. ”Do you mane to say that it* chate ing the people lam ? An imposter, indade!’ “ Ay, imposter; and U’a that I call yon to your teeth!” “ Come, cut your shtick, ye eantankerooa owld badger iv a jackanapes.” “ Keep a civil tongue in your head, too old diagonal,” replied Dan, coolly. “ Sthop yer jaw. yon mug-nosed skunk; or, by this and that, 111 make you lep.” “Don’t be in a passion, my old radius. Ange* wtl only wrinkle your beauty.” “ By the body, H you aay another word of NEW SERIES—NO. 624 w Wlsha, ?° r > Ttlnnfn JWt pOtatO a Madagascar with fine language; you* old parallelogram.” “ Whavs that you call me, you maturin' vflyun ?" roared Biddy, stung into fury. "I call yon,” said he, " a parallelogram, aui a Dublin jury would say it* no libel to. call yon so.” “O, tare and on ns! O, holy Biddy! that an honest woman like me should be called'a parry-beUygrom to her facet I’m nous of bird; yon cowardly, rare sing. jlatfttiftieng . * yon; indeed! ” retorted OXToimelL , “ Why, I sappose you’ll deny yoa: Beep a rascally hypetbenusemyear house!!’ "It’s a Be for yoa, yoa bloody robbent I never had such a thing in my house* yon swindling owld thief and eheny-snonted.de ludheaer!” "Why, all the neighbors know very well that yon keep not only* hypothesise; but that yon have two diameters locked' op in your 3 ?garret, and that yon go to walk with them every Sunday, yon heartless old. hepta gon!” "Oh, hear that, ye saints in glory! Oh, that* bad language for a fallow that wants to pass himself off for a jjntleman. May the devil tty away wid yon, you micher bom Mon ster, and make celery sauce-Cram* yonr rotten limbs L” “Ah, yon can’t deny the charge, you misera- He sobmaldple of a duplicate ratio r "Go rinse yonr month in the Liffy, yoa nasty tickle-pitcher. After all the bad words yon spake, it enght to be filthier than your 6c**, yon dirty chicken of Beelzebub IT "Rinse yonr month yow wicked old n ■. ETo- the deucel pitete non, yon bin. intersection of fool and stinking "Ton saucy tinker’s apprentioe, if yon don’t cease yonr jaw, 111—” But here she gasped for breath, unable to hawk np any more words; for the last volley of O’Connell had nearly knocked the wind oat of her. " While I haves tongue I’ll abase you, yon most inimitable periphery. Look at ner, boys ! There she stands—a convicted perpen dicular in petticoats! There’s contamination in her circumference, and she trembles with guilt down to the extremities of her corolla. • lies. Ah! yon are found out at last, yoa rec tilineal antecedent and equiangular old hag (: Tis yon the devil will fly away with, you por ter-swigging similitude of the bisection of a vortex!” 4” Overwhelmed with this torrent of language, Mrs. Moriarty waa silenced. Catching np the saucepan, she was aiming It at O’Connell* head, when he very prudently aaade a timely retreat. . . "Yon have won the wager, O'Qonnell,” cried the men who proposed the contest, "Here’s your bet.” Woßmu Hawk. There ® scarcely in the whole scope of our enjoyment—it is a bold, bold assert! but oh, how true L—a sensation, mote de lightful than that arising from the warm touch of woman* hand. Its very delicacy and weakness, as it glides into a more strong and manly grasp, is a-fit emblem of the just confidence ttw heart is ao desir ous to bestow upon its destined protector. And while the nerves thrill over the soft fingers and the electricity of pasafoo ia fir ing every vehr— while a spirit rieher and; more refined than thought itself/flatten in the boeoro—how the heart seems striving to expand itself into that unutterable eostaoy of being, so seldom felt—so im possible to be described. Header, invoke, we pray thee, the aid of memory, and let her recall i? moonlight fitftilnres, the soenes of thy oourtehfp—thy April mornings of hope and fenr— offeree joy and passion. Let those visions of MB* again arise in the shadowy review„likstfce springing afresh of a rainbow fountain —thou wilt own that whether the luxuries of art, screened by e friendly shade from the strict scrutiny ef the bril liant im —Jjft,fa pf nr tore* untamed magnifioenoe—if thou oooldst bnt win the oonfldencio of her thou loveet, eo seemingly unconscious it had eoouped her meideofy keeping, she would trust her timid bund in thorn, thy thoughts were flooded with delight—thy very bosom glowed with a generous rapture. Oh! how you then swore to thy heart ef hearts (a vewmere holy, ihore pore than that of the altar) to protect, to oem fort her—to minister to her joys, to bo her guide, her all in all? If thou didst not, thou wast no lover. Perchance with the soft reminiscence of stolen glances (the first effect of unpledged love, timid speeches and ardent vows,) comes the withering thought of feith brok en, looks estranged and vows forgotten— the ©old countenance, the haughty answer, disdainful smile. MASSACHUSETTS * TIN STEMS BN ROUTE FOB THE PACIFIC. ■itzw York, Nov. 4.—Some additional par ticulars incident to fitting out of the steamship Continental with female emigrants for wash" ington Territory, have been furnished W Mr. Mercer, Agent. The fall compliment ts wow neariv "Ruined sad the vessel will be reedy for tea NMHii the 14th and 20th of theenwent moHte Toe route ie through tto o* Magmien, and not round Cape Horn ae had been previously intimated Substantial diet ! will be plentifully prortded-