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Beispiels to Mknl nnd General Ymelligence, and the Daten-Its of Mchtield Cmmtg f .
v T«l. XXXIV.-Wo. 33. LITCHFIELD, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1858. Whole Wo. 1749. ^BOROB A HICKOX Attorney at Law. .R3T Office in East street, directly opposite the Congregational church, Litchfield, Conn. H OUSTER fit BEEMAIT, Attorneys and Coun selors at Law. Frederick D. Beeman, Com missioner of Deeds for the State of New York. Office la Seymour’s Building, South street, Litchfield, Conn. ■m-w w. SEYMOUR Attorney and Counsellor .Eiaat Law, Litchfield, Conn, ROBERT M. TREAT, Manufacturer of com shellers, chums, safety tug irons, &c., South Farms, Conn. _ CROSSMAN'S Shaving, Hail-Cutting and Wig Making Booms—under the Mansion House, Litchfield. _ ~ R. ME R R IM AN , HAS just returned from New York with an as sortment of WATCHES AND JEWELRY. Spectacles, from 25 cents to $10 the pair.—Plated Butter-Knives, Spoons, Forks, Sewing-Birds and Hapkin Bings, Yiolincello Strings, Violin Strings, i Bridges, Screws, Tail-Boards and Bosin Violin Bows and Tuneing Forks, and Clarionet Reeds, and vari ous Articles too numerous to mention, at the low * **LUchfleid, May 18, 1857._tL4 B, CROSSMAN, JEHfe Successor to C. M. Hooker,) ^UULLU Dentist, Office in South street, over the Post-Office. All aperations on the Teeth carefully performed, •ad warranted to give entire satisfaction. I have endeavored to satisfy myself as to the skill Mr. Edward CrosBman as a dental practitioner, •ad think I can safely recommend him to the citi Mas of Litchfield County as one who merits their aanfldence and patronage. C. M. Hooker. Hartford, Conm., August 10, 1867. ' DENTISTRY. DR. E. W. BLAKE would call the at MfiflH|atention of his patrons to his superior mode of filling Teeth with pure gold, which renders further decay next to impossible. He would also ask them to look at his superior Single Gum Teeth; also to his Premium Continu oas Gum Teeth—the best in use. The strictest attention given, as usual, to the care ful yet expeditious Extraction of Teeth withorwith oat the use of Chloroform, Ether and other benumb I lag agents. Business hours from 8 o'clock A. M. to 6 o'clock P. M. Office in the first building south of the Man sion House, (up stairs.) Sixteen years in the business—thirteen in Litch field, Conn. Litchfield, August 1, 1868. SEWrJVG •MuMCUtJTES. A Praotloal Family Sewing Machine for $5. Performing fully equal work. No missing or ripping of •tide*. No getting out of order. Any body can use it; everybody will have it. | r (facmes BT RECENT GRANT OF LETTERS PATENT.) I MTIXCLUSIVE RIGHTS for a few States and Coun , JCJ ties will be placed within the reach of any en terprising business man. (A portion of the Territo ry already secured.) The Proprietors confidently feel they now place before the public the greuteet chance for a profitable Investment ever offered. A Sewing Machine con taining the requsite qualities, which, by its aston j’ ishing simplicity and low cost, will at once go to the f masses, who have been anxiously waiting for the W Machine to come within their grasp ' \ gg*Partles wishing to purehase, are requested to eali at once, examine this most wonderful achieve meat, and secure a monopoly of the State or County desired, NOVELTY $5 SEWING MACHINE CO., Office, Bartlett & Co , Needle Manufacturers, 421 Broadway, cor. Canal st.. N Y. ' 3T4t Call or tend for a circular with cult of Machines. ~ WM. WATKINS. House. Sign and Carriage PAINTTER. GILDING, Graining, Ornamental Painting and Paper Hanging. All orders left at McNiel's National Hotel will be promptly attended to. Litchfield, June 1858. Iy7 Melalnotypes, Or, 11*011 Piute Pictures. FVtHl8 new style of Portraiture is now practised at JL Judd’s Gallery, No. 2 South street. Litchfield, August 23, 1858. FISH! FISH! "mro. 1 & 2 Mackerel in Kitts & J Bbls. i. w No. 1 Shad, Codfish, Ac., at WM. H. BRAMAN’S. Jan* 9th. 7 Particular JYoticel THE Subscriber has on hand, at all times, a full assortment of CARRIAGES, BUGGIES, BUSINESS WAGONS, &c. made expressly for the Home Market, and of the best materials, which he will sell at prices to suit the timee. CONCORD BUGGIES for 66 to 70 dol lars, and others in proportion. WILLIAM RODGERS. Lttehfield, Jane 1858. tf7 New Goods ! New Goods ! AtA. C. SMITH A CO.’S. Flour! Flour!! Flour!!! WHEAT Flour, Rye Flour, Buckwheat Flour, Corn Meal and Provender, fresh ground, at A, C. Surra £ Co.’s. TT ADIBS' MERINO VESTS, at ■ A C. B. Bmor A Oo.’s. BEAUTIFUL LOT of Berages, Muslins, Chal lies, Prints, Ac., received this week at C. B. BISHOP A CO S. PlORtf MEAL and PROVENDER, for safe by %/ MOULTHROP A COE. Litchfield, inly S7th. BOOTS AND SHOES. PB*|HE subscriber has taken a room over A C' A Smith’s store, where he is prepared to make to order Gentlemen's and Ladies’ Boots And Shoes of tbs best quality. A share of public patronage is re spectfully solicited. S. O. BEACH. LUohfieU, Sept. 27,1858. 28 DOUBLE ZEPHYB WORSTEDS in an shades, now open at WM. H. BRAMAN’S. SPEECH OF SENATOR CRITTENDEN. [From the Tribune.] The members of the Whig General Com mittee and of the Ashlanders’ Association waited upon Senator Crittenden at the St. Nicholas Hotel on Wednesday, December 1st, to tender him their respects. Addresses were made iu behalf of the Whigs by Mr. Jennings, aud by Dr Dodge on the part of the Ashland ers. The sentimeuts advanced were devotion to the principles and memory of Henry Clay, regret that the Whig party had been disband ed, and the hope that Mr. Crittenden would come forward as the Whig standard-bearer to endeavor to resuscitate the party. Mr. Crittenden, in response, said—I would have yon believe, my friends, iu the first place, that I came to this city upon no political mis sion, to serve no political end. I came here with no other motive than to attend to some i little private business, on my way to the City of Washington. I expected no such welcome as this. I had not appreciated myself so high ly, and I thank you gratefully, and with all my heart, for the welcome yoa have given me. Gentlemen, both of these addresses which I have had the honor of receiving, breathe the same principles, the same sentiments, that I entertain. They are my principles, they are my sentiments—which I endeavored to main tain for a long course of years under the ban ner of the Whig party ; they are as deeply im pressed upon my heart to-day, as in the most youthful hours of my political life. I have al ways endeavored to sustain them, and my views and my principles have undergone no change. The Whig party was a glorious party. Its en emies, now in its weakness, acknowledge it. Aud it is yet destined, I trust, to a glorious resurrection in principles, at least, if not iu name, for the good of our common country. [Applause.] The Constitution of the United ■States was its platform, and the maintenance of the Government iu its pristine purity the main obji ct it sought to accomplish. That wus the object for which Henry Clay labored unceasingly. 1 served with him, or rather un der him, through many and many a long and weary contest, and during the whole course of our political life, there never was a shade of alienation between us, save once, and that was soon dissipated by mutual explanations. I look upou Clay’s name and fame with all the reverence tbut he deserved. I knew him well. Few knew him in public or in private better than I did, and by none was he more respect ed. I never knew such an iutrepid servant of the people as he was. Iutrepid aud disinter ested above all men, he is entitled to the high est commendation of his country With a courage unflinching, a disinterestedness that knew no bounds, he rose above all other patri ots. Webster and Calbouu were patriots, and leaders in our party ; but Clay was the great father and chief of the Whig party. It wus to him we lookeed through many a weary day of strife aud controversy. I hope to see his principles yet prevail, and they must prevail if the Government of our country is ever to be restored to the character which it had in the time of Washington, and the fathers of the Re public. [Cheers.] But pardon me, I did not come to make a political speech. You ask me, in one of these addresses, if 1 will head the van guard, and do battle in the patriot strife for the restoration of our government to its pristine purity. I thank you for the compliment which it implies, but I answer you, gentlemen, No. I cannot assume any such position ; but I am wiling to serve with yon, endeavoring to do my duty as 1 have done heretofore, and I shall hope that my conduct will correspond with j vili vjiiuivuo uiiu j vui n iouvo } «uu a «»-V uv reason to doubt that it will, for I hare no ob ject to depart from the rule of my life, to main tain the truth and uphold the right. If I could go wrong now, it must be through sel fishness or viciousness, and I believe that I have outlived both of these. My ambition now is to be, as I have said several times before, a patriot rather thau a partizan ; to give to my couutry in any of its councils where I may hap pen to be, such advice as the moderation of my views and the experience of my life may suggest. This is my highest ambition. I am content to serve, as long as I can be useful to our country. One of the great misfortunes of our country is, that there are so many desir ous to rule, and so few who are willing to serve. I am uot a caudidate for the Presidency. I sometimes see my name used by the public press, aud myself spoken of as a caudidate. I never see it without regret. I am no candid ate for the Presidency, nor do I ever expect to be. I shall never seek for a nomination. To my miud, there is so much responsibility at tached to that position, that it is to be dread ed more than it is to be desired. I repeat it —I am not a caudidate, aud do not expect to be ; but you may count upon me to aid iu bringing back this Government to its primi tive simplicity aud virtue. But I dou’t look for the other, aud all I fear is, that the honor with which you have received me to-day, may be distorted into some political design. Be my witnesses that such is not the fact; and, so help me God, you will bear witness to noth ing but the truth. No such thought nor am bition has ever disturbed my sleep, nor troub ed my mind ; and yet I have a heart to feel and a will to act for my country—and 1 thank God that he has giveu me courage to act and speak fearlessly and faithfully in its behalf. That is what my noble old State of Kentuc y taught me, aud that is what I have always endeavored to do. Yon need not ask my connsel as to what is necessary to be done. It is true that this agitation should cease ; that people should pause and take breath; that parties should see which way they are drifting. What is the result of all this agitation ? I will not mention its name. I am sick of this negro question—sick to the very heart—and I would to God that we could go back to the days when our forefathers lived together in peace and harmony. What is the result of this agitation ? A united people divided, and a sectional line almost severing the Union.— And with that sectional line comes sectional strife, and sectional enmities of the bitterest character, that must ultimately end in disaster to the Union, unless her patriotic and conser vative sons come to the rescue and calm the troubled waters. The patriotic fathers fought side by side in the infaucy of the Republic, to build up a free and happy confederacy, and be queathed to their children a noble inheritance that they fondly hoped would continue to ex ist iu peace and prosperity through all time. The mighty progress of this country is one of the wouders of the age. It is enough to make the head swim and the breast heave, to con template the wondrous progress. Surely there is something worth striving for. I think that the people of this country are tending rapidly to a feeling of this sort. I think that if we dispensed with parties altogether, the people themselves would be right, for our Government is founded upon their supposed capacity and intelligence. But such has been the operation of parties that there is but little of the right of self-government left to the people. Iustead, we have a mighty machine which makes the Government for the people. The nominee of a Convention, under existing circumstances, is imperatively the only choice left to the people. I think there ought to be an end to this thing —it is a usurpation upon the rights of the peo ple. I believe that if the people would break it down, there would be no more of this agita-. tion. That is my belief, and our first and last and only hope for the salvation of our common country. If that fails, our whole scheme of self-government fails also. I think that a feel ing is tending to the restoration of these rights to the people. I trust in God that they will be restored, and then the Government will be right. You old Whigs could do nothing bel ter than to disseminate this doctrine. It is a g < rious way to get back to the old Whig pr.nciples. But I am getting into a speech which I did not iuteud to make. Let me say again that I have no Presidential aspirations. I am no candidate, and I don’t want any man to speak of me as such. It is with sincere re gret that I see my name used in any paper in connection with that station. I am not ambi tious of such distinction, and I would not ac cept the Presidency unless in a contingency not likely to happen—unless it should be the mani fest conviction of the people of the United States that I could serve them better in that than in any other capacity. [Cheers.] You may be assured that there will be no lnck of candidates. (Laughter.) You may count upon me as a faithful co-operator with you in your schemes for the restoration of the Governmcut of our country to the practices and principles of the days of Washington. Compare the administration of Buchanan with that of Washington ; they are no more alike than Hyperion and the Satyrs—there’s hardly a family resemblance. I say this w:th no ill feeling toward Mr. Buchanan Let us try to go back to the old order of things—to the peace and purity of the past. This is a great and a gloriou* country, and it behoves us to help it onward in its grand career. The child is living to-day who will see you num bering 100,000,000 of people. This is worth living for ; this is worth dying for. And it is for you to say whether or net this country shall continue in its career of prosperity and greatness, and become a nation the most moral and the most intelligent in the world. With such a population, our liberty shall become the liberty of all mankind, our will shall become a law unto the nations. Let us hope that this law may be that of righteousness and justice. In conclusion, the Senator again thanked his friends for what he designated as the most honorable but undeserved mark of respect and esteem. THE CHESS CONTEST IN ENGLAND. MORPHY AND STAUNTON. Lord Lyttleton has addressed a letter to Mr. Morphy, the distinguished American chess player, from which we make the following ex tracts :—Your letter has but one professed object; that we should declare that it is not your fault that the match between yourself and Mr. Staunton has not taken place. To this the reply might be made in two words. I cannot conceive it possible that any one should impute that failure to you ; nor am I aware that any one has done so. But in the circum stances, I shall, perhaps, not be blamed if I go somewhat further into the matter. In the general circnmstances of the case, I conceive that Mr. Staunton was quite justified in de clining the match. The fact is understood that he has for years been engaged in labors which must, whatever arrangements might be made, greatly interfere with his entering into a seri ous contest with a player of the highest force and in constant practice, and so far the failure of the match is the less to be regretted. Nor can I doubt the correctness of his recent state ment, that the time barely necessary for the match itself could not be spared without seri ous loss and inconvenience both to others and himself. But I cannot but think that in all fairness and considerateuess Mr. Staunton might have told you of this long before he did. I know no reason why he might not have ascertained it, aud informed you of it in an swer to your first letter from America In stead of this, it seems to me plain, both as to the interview at which I myself was present, and as to all other communications which have passed, that Mr. Staunton gave yon every rea son to suppose that he would be ready to play the match within no long time. I am not aware indeed, (nor do I perceive that you have said it,) that you left America solely with the view of playing Mr. Staunton. It wonld, no doubt, make the case stronger, but it seems to me as unlikely as that yon should have come, as has been already stated, (anonymously, and m certainly not with Mr. Staunton’s concurrence) in order to attend the Birmingham Tourna ment. The London Era says :—“ Mr. Morphy has decided to pass the winter in Europe His decision cannot fail of giving a still greater stimulus to European chess, nerr Anderssen, also, has made final arrangements for being in Paris on the 12th of December, se that this much expected match will really come off. Af ter its termination, Mr. Morphy will probably be in Englaud, where plans are already afloat for giving him the reception he merits.” WHATCHICAGO IS THANKFUL FOR. The following Thanksgiving effusion of the Chicago Press and Tribune is catholic and comprehensive: “ What we should be Thankful fob.— For life and liberty here and the hope of Hea ven hereafter ; for the existence of the Re publican party, by which that liberty is as sured and the path heavenward left perfectly free to all men, subject only to the laws of our moral nature and revelation from God ; for the existence and renewed vitality of free prin ciples, which ever must precede the highest development of Christianity ; lor our Republi can victories in all the North, and especially for our popular majority in Illinois, and for the prospect of a Republican triumph in the nation in 1860 ; for the judgmeut of the Al mighty upon the perversity and wickedness of James Buchanan; for the small crop of the year, and for the promise of more in the year to come ; for the chastening rod which has tenght the vanity of riches ; for the necessity which has impelled men to seek bread by la bor, and gain by economy ; for the success of our public and private schools, and the more powerful influence of our churches ; for abun dant food and cheap fuel; for our Protestant emigrants and for moderate rents and the low price of beefsteaks ; for the rapid improve ment of our city sidewalks and the crooked walks of our citizens ; for our Republican Common Council ; for a Republican Mayor ; for snch water as we get; for sewerage by and by ; for the Nicholson pavement; for more gas lamps on uufrequeuted streets ; for the moderation of our dearly beloved brethren of the Irish persuasion since last Thanksgiving day ; for the new position of John Archbish op of New York, that Protestantism has rob bed ‘ the Church’ of its paupers ; for the hope of their restoration ; for the abdication of O’ Regan and the Chirique schism ; for the ma terial prosperity of Chicago released from Irish rule ; for the leniency of creditors and the promptness of debtors ; for a large circu lation and a good run cf advertisers ; for such prices as wheat will bring ; for such a market as it can command ; for the prospect that corn will rule high, and that corn-er lots will feel its influence ; for the success of the sorghum ex periment and the hope of more sngar ; for the partial repentance of Dougins, and our anti Lecompton majority in the next Congress ; for the probable alteration of the Tariff and for home made iron and less imported brass ; for the labor of Mr. Hadley, the friend of the poor and fatherless, and for the Divine impuls es which impel men to give to the charity that he directs ; for philanthropic and humane ef ort everwhere ; for that ‘one touch of Nature which makes us all akin ;’ for the invention of Lager as a substitute for whisky, and for the prospect that the world will sometime grow wise enough to discard both ; for such curren cy as onr banks will give us, and for snch stray pieces of gold as we can get ; for the decline in the capacity of shavers and the wants of borrowers ; for any rate of interest less thau two per cent, a month, with bullion for collateral ; for the steam plow and the _ .1 i i /• It t • A* [jiuopixmc uiitciitmamicub ui an uiauniiiu , iui the sewing machine and the emancipation of our wives and daughters ; for the Paraguay expedition, which will further demonstrate the imbecility of our venerable Chief Magistrate ; for the subsidence of the potato rot, and for the improvement in the virtue of Congressmen; for the treaty with Japan, and the discovery of gold on the Platte ; for the decline in the vanity of the female sex ; for the fashion that makes calico admissible where necessity de mands that it should be worn ; for the less scandal in sewing societies and 1 scandal bees ;’ for the Old Dominion Coffee-pot and the pres ervation of the sausage-making art ; for the mud, snow and rain which give life to the rub ber and umbrella trade ; for Pro-Slavery doc trines iu the pulpit and for the opposite truths to which they lead ; for every grief and sor row, for every death and disaster whereby the littleness and meanness of human ambition are demonstrated ; for every enobling Christian thought and impulse whereby man’s relation ship to God is established ; for every act of humanity and justice in which Gcd is made nearer, and for every act of worship in which His love and His mercy are acknowledged ; for every charitable deed with which Heaveu is pleased ; for this World as it is—with all its woes and wisdom, its crimes, casualties and curses, charity and Christianity—the good with the bad—let us be truly, devoutly, and unfeignedly thankful ; content with the assur ance that in Divine Mercy all things are or daiued for the best. Death of a Dwabf.—A dwarf named Ri chebourg, who was only sixty centimetres (23 1-2 inches high) has just died in the Rne dne Four St. Germain, ae. 90. He was when young, in the service of the Dachess d’Oileans, moth er of King Lonis Pbillipe, with title of “ but ler,” bat her performed none of the dnties of the office. After the first revolution broke ont he was employed to convey dispatches abroad, and for that purpose was dressed as a baby, the despatches being concealed in his cap, and a nurse being* made to carry him. For the last twenty-five years he lived in the Rne dne Four, and daring all that time never went out. He had a great repugnance to strangers, and was alarmed when he heard the voice of one ; but in his own family he was very lively and cheerful in his conversation. The Orleans family allowed him a pension of 3000f. F Priscilla Mui.i.ins’ Spinning—Did She Use a Small Wheel or a Large One? “ Then as he opened the door, he beheld the form of the maiden Seated beside her wheel, and the carded wool like a snow drift Piled at her knee, her white hands feeding the rav enous spindle, While with her foot on the treadle she guided the wheel in its motion.” 00 writes me aiuuor ei Allies Btanaisn s Courtship, in describing the appearance and occupation of Priscilla ns John Alden entered her door to convey the message of Stundish. Some friends of mine, whose memories run back to the time when spinning wheels were in daily use in every house in New England, de clare that Priscilla couldn’t have been doing any thing of the kind. If she was spinning wool, she couldn’t have used a wheel with a treadle ; if she was using a treadle, she couldn’t have been spinning wool ; for wool was always spun with a large wheel, turned by hand ; and it was only flax that was spun by a small wheel, which went with a treadle. 1 bate to mar so pretty a picture as the po et gives us in the lines I have quoted, but if the experience of my venerable friends is worth anything, we must give her either the “ trea dle” or the “ wool.” Which shall it be ? For my part I prefer to retain “ the wool and yet, even if we keep that, we must lose a pret ty feature in the picture, in supposing her to be standing, instead of sitting with “ the card ed wool like a snow-drift piled at her knee and besides, we shall have to find a new place for the well-worn psalm-book of Ainsworth,” which the poet locates as “ open wide upon her lap.” My ancient friends above quoted, do not pretend that their memories can cover the pe riod referred to by the poet. It may be, there fore, that he is true to the manners of Puritan days, if not to those of the more recent period to which their testimony relates. But if Mr. Drake in his “History and Antiquities of Boston” is to be trusted, it would seem that the kind of wheel described by Mr. Longfel low was not even known in New England, in the days of Priscilla Mullins. Ou page 500 of that learned book in speaking of the arri val in the year 1717 of a co ouy of Scotch Irish, most of whom settled in New Hamp shire, but some in Boston, the author says :— “These emigrants were chiefly manufacturers of linen, and they brought their utensils for that purpose with them. The foot, or linen wheel, since so familiar jn the households of New England, was introduced by this colony, and the raising of flax and the manufacture of linen cloth was looked upon as of great im portance to the country.” Who is right ? Did Priscilla use a treadle or not ? I pray you, Mr. Editor, to tell me. —Boston Doily Advertiser. Ai.den. PURSUIT OF A TRUANT HUSBAND. from tue uttawa (III.) Free Trader. For the last four years there has resided in this city, with occasional intervals, one “ Dr. Askenazi, Hungarian physician”—a small man, of ill-favored yet strongly marked Jewish countenance—speaking English and several other European languages very brokenly, claim ing to have been a surgeon in the Hungnrian patriot army in 1848, and to have come to this country with Kossuth, but by his vernac ular betraying that he was originally from Poland or Southern Russia. His mode of life was in the highest degree parsimonious—oc cupying generally a small, cheap room, which answered as well for his office as dormitory and kitchen, in which he prepared his own meals. Among his intimates, who were few, he passed as a man of great learning, and by those with whom he practised as a physician or surgeon, he was regarded as a man of great professional skill. "Dr. Ashkenazi, Hungarian,” was thus getting along smoothly and prosperously, un til some ten days ago, when his dream of re pose was very materially interrupted by the arrival of a lady in this city, who claimed to be his lawful, wedded spouse—who made up on him in that character, certain weighty claims, and preferred against him certain weighty charges, the effect of which has been to place the little “ Doctor” iu limbo from that day to this. The lady having proved the identity of her man, sought a legal adviser, to whom she made substantially the following statement: Some twenty years ago, then a lass of fif teen summers—the favorite of her parents, who were in easy circumstances, living in the village of Kreeua, (Krasnoy?) Russia, near the borders of Poland—a Jewess—she made the acquaintance of a young man—poor, but distinguished for his learning aud piety, named Asbur Seltzar. He had been educated for a rabbi, and had so greatly won the esteem and confidence of the chief rabbi of the place that he was frequently entrusted with the adminis tration of the (Jewish) law in his (the chief rabbi’s) absence. Her parents and ail par ties assenting, she was married to the young rabbi On their marriage, her parents gave them a marriage portion of about $1,000, on which they lived about a year at Kreeua, when the young rabbi suddenly disappeared, and was gone some three years before she ascertained his whereabouts. Finally, she heard of him in Dantzic in Prussia, whither she followed him, found him, aud returned with him to Se rai, in Poland. Here they lived together an other year, during which a child was born to them. When the child was some three months old, they went on a visit to her mother at Kreenfe—remained there a few weeks, then startca back for Serai. Arriving at the bor der, the rabbi, it appeared, had provided a passport on!)' for himself, and intimating to the officer that the lady was none of bis, and had no passport, he was conveyed across the stream, while she was left behind. This was the last she had seen of her loving spouse un til she met him ten days ago in Ottawa. But she was unwilling to give him up so Arming herself with funds and the necessary papers, she started in pursuit. Site found traces of him in various places throughout Europe, but was never able to fix his locality until, after some three years, she learned that he had been at Jerusalem—had there been married to a second wife—had in a year left her—had thence been wandering over Europe, assuming the character of a “ Jerusalemite,’’ begging funds for the destitute children of Is rael in Jerusalem ; that is, in this way he had accumulated considerable money ; that a bro ther of his second wife had pursued him, found him in Germany, and got a Jewish *' writing of divorcement” from him, returned with it to Jerusalem and found it defective, followed him a second time, and found him in Loudon, where he got another writing that was in due form. Then all traces of him disappeared until some two years ago, when she learned that he had deposited some money with a banker in Hano ver, with orders to forward it whither he should direct by letter. The banker finally got a let ter directing him to send the mouey to a bank er named Israel, in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Thither she followed, and there was informed that the n oney hud been sent to Seltzar, iu care of Ashkenazi, at Ottawa, 111. So she came to Ottawa, and here, by accident, met Dr. A. in the street, whom she at once rocog n zed as her truant lord. The Doctor nmdc a feeble effort to deny his identity, but soon caved, uud showed a disposition to come to terms. Her demands wore reisonable enough. All s e asked was a divorcement and some $1,500 i i money to enable her to return to her parents. The first the Doctor was willing enough to ac cede to, but being a great miser, utterly scouts the latter proposition, to evade which he tried earnestly to persuade her to live with him again. This she peremptorily declines, but commences a proceeding in our G’ircuit Court for divorce and alimony, and for fear her “ rab bi” may take leave of her again, she has him locked up on a writ of ne exeat. The Doctor is known to have some eight or ten thousand dollars in gold in his possession, and could easily discharge the lady’s moderate demand, but is so miserly that he may linger n long while in jail before he will do it. The la dy is not unhandsome, apparently very intelli gent, and evidently brim full of grit. i-iETTER OF A UYIKO VYIFE. — lhe following ITlOSt touching fragment of a letter from a dying wife to her hunhand (says the Nashville Gazette) was found by him, some months after her death, between the leaves of a religious volume which she was very fond of perusing. The letter, which was literally dim with her tear marks, was written long before her husband was aware that the grasp of fatal dis ease had fastened upon the lovely form of his wife, who died at the early age of nineteen : “ When this shall reach yoar eye, dear George, some day when you are turning over the relics of the past, I shall have passed away forever, and the cold white stone will bo keeping its lonely watch over the lips you have so often pressed, and the sod will be growing green that shall hide forever from your sight the dust of one who has often nes tled close to yonr warm heart. For many long and sleepless nights, when all beside my thoughts were at rest, 1 have wrestled with consciousness of approaching death, until at last it has forced itself upon my mind ; and ' although to you aud to others it might now seem but the nervous imagining of a girl, yet, dear George, it is so ! Many weary nights have I passed in the endeavor to reconcile my self to leaving you,whom I lov’d so well,and this bright world of sunshine and beauty ; and hard indeed it is to struggle on silently and alone, with the sure conviction that I am about to leave all forever and go down into the dark valley ! ‘ But I know in whom I have be lieved,’ and leaning on his arm, ‘ I fear no evil ’ Do not blame me from keeping even all this from you. How could I subject you, of all others, to such sorrow as I feel at parting, when time will soon make it apparent to you I I could have wished to live, if ouly to be fit your side when your time shall come, and pil lowing your head on my breast, wipe the death-damps from your brow, and usher your departing spirit into its Maker’s presence, em balmed in woman’s holiest prayer. Bnt it is not to be, and I submit. Yours is the privil ege of watching, through long and dreary nights, for the spirit’s final flight, and of trans feiing iny sinking head from your breast to my Savior’s bosom ! And yon shall share my 1 ist thought, and the last faint pressure of the hand, and the la t feeble kiss shall be yours, and even when flesh and heart shall have fail ed me, my eyes shall rest on yours until glazed by death ; and our spirits shall hold one last communion until gently fading from my view the last of earth—you shall mingle with the first bright glimpses of the unfading glories of the better world, where partings are unknown. Well do I know the spot, my dear George, where you will lay me ; often we stood by the place, and as we watched the mellow snnset, as it glanced in quivering flashes throngh the leaves, and burnished the grassy mounds around ns with stripes of burnished gold, each, perhaps, has thought that some day one of ns wonld come alone, and whichever it might be, your name would be on the stone. But we loved the spot, and I know you will love it none the less, when yon see the same quiet sun light linger aud play among the grass that grows over your Mary’s grave. I know you will go there, and my spirit will be with yon then, and whisper among the waving branch** —' I am not lost, bnt gone before.’” t