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VOL VI.RUSSELLVILLE, POPE COUNTY, ARKANSAS, THURSDAY, MAY 13, 1880. NO. 16.
LINES IN AN ALBUM. BRET HARIS, IN THE CALIFORNIAN. Sweet Mary—maid of San Andreas— Upon her natal day, Procured an album, double gilt, bln titled, 'The Bouquet." But what Its purpose ww, beyond ltd name, sue could not guess; And so between its gilded leaves The flower he gave she’d press. Vet. blame her not, poetic youth, Nor deem too great the wron>; she knew not Hawthorne’s bloom, uor loved Macauly’s flowers of soug. Her hymn-book was the total sum Of poetic lore: And, having read through Dr. Watts, She did not ask for Moore. Blit when she ope’d her book again, How great wan her surprise To find the leaves, on either side, Stained deep with crimson dyys. And that rose—his latest gift— A shapeless form she views; Its fragrance sped, its beauty fled, Aud vanished all its dews. Oh Mary—maid of San Andreas— Too sad wus your mistake; Vet, one, methinks, that wiser folks Are very apt to make / Who ’twixt these leaves would fix the shapes That Lore aud Truth assume, Will And they keep, like Mary’s rose, The stain, and not the bloom. . . . M . WANTED. Marlin Woodbridgc—her name was Martha, but no one called her so—lived on the outskirts of a small village. Her father was a farmer, but not a prosperous one. Nature, with her frosts and draughts, wus always getting the upper band of him, and the crops which he raised were sure to be those which brought the lowest price in the market. The canker worm stripped his apple tree, and a late frost blighted the corn and oats. He had the misfortune to hnv a cow which introduced the cattle dis ease into the farm-yard, and Creamer, Spotty and Whitefuce—the three cows flint always tilled their pails the fullest end made the most golden butter—sick ened and died. This was the question which Martie puzzeled over from day to day, coming at last to the conclusion that she must try her luck in the big world which she had seen so little of outside of her own small village. She would go to London, and, it possible, find there a situation as governess, in which she eould at least provide for her ow n support. Her mother let fall a few quiet tears «ver the plan, and smiling patiently through them said: "Ask your father.” Mr. Wood bridge said "No” at first; but having lain awake all night over his difficulties, he called Martie to him, kissed her solemnly, give a weary sigh, and with it bis consent. So it came to pass that on a cool, crisp October morning, when the woods were at their brightest autumn flush, and the frost had stiffened tlis grass into little silvery blades and spears, and made the few pale flowers that lingered by the roadside hang their heads, Martie put on her bravest smile, made hopeful, com forting little speeches, kissed them all good bye at home—the dear old home, so full of joys and troubles—and started for London, to put into that great, hur rying, driving, jostling market the modest wares bIh* had to offer. Martie was eager and full of hope; but alas! how much eagerness and hopeful ness go down to death every day, m the frantic rush and scramble for the good things going. Martie in the great city, looking for work to do, seemed like a quiet little wren trying to pick up a worm or a crumb where hawks and vul tures were snatching and clawing for plunder. Matie was met the moment she step ped from the train by an old friend of the family, who bad kindly promised to receive her at her house, and do what she eould to assist her. The next day, early in the morning, a modest, unpretending little advertise ment was sent to one of the daily news papers. What a stupendous affair it seemed to Martie, and how her unsoph isticated little heart beat at the thought of it! Nothing could come of it that day, however; and while she goes out with Mrs. Allen to do a little shopping, and stare at a few of the city lions, let us take a look at the quarters she has fallen Into. Mrs. Allen kept n small private lodg ing-house, very select and very genteel. Its iumates were the leurned i*rof. Big wig and family, from whose presence a certian literary aroma was supposed to pervade the atmosphere; the brilliant (k>l. Boreas, hero—according to his own account—of numberless battles: a rising young lawyer, with his pretty, blush ing girl-wife, all fresh and lovely in her new bridal toilet, a rich w idow and her still richer daughter, who, it is said, was soon to become the helpmate of the cleri cal member of the household, the Kev. Paul Apollot, and last, though not leant, the representative of the tine arts, Mr. Raymond, an artist, whose pictures had won golden praises from critics and con noisseurs and golden prices from pur chasers. Mr. Raymond was Martie’s left-hand neighbor at the table. With the first glance at his dark face, iron-gray hair und mustache and deep-set gray eyes, she felt rather inclined to be afraid of him. When he smiled she liked him better, und thought the gray eyes looked kind; and as she felt very shy and lone some among all these strange faces, she was glad to have him talk a little to her, and Like care that she was provided with all she wanted. _ CJ* the second morning after her ar rival in the city Murtie’s advertisement appeared. Mrs. Allen sent a paper un to her room before she was out of bed, so that almost as soon as her eyes were open she had begun to hope, and to lie afraid, and to wonder it, out of so many people who she supposed would come to tee her, any one of them would think well enough of her to want her ser vices. Martie was very painstaking with her toilet that morning. She wanted to look her best. She s]tent twice the usual time over her wavy, gold-brown hair, and she had put on her pretty gray dress—the gray dress for morning, and the black silk lor afternoons—and fastened the . dainty spotless eol’ar und cuff's, she dallied fully five minutes over her little stock of ribbons, trying this one and that, and went down at lust to breaktast, looking, to Mr. Raymond’s artist eyes, which took her in at a glance, like a wild rose just out of a thicket, with the dewy morning brightness brimming in her brown eyes, the pink of rose petals in her cheeks, und soil, warm, shimmering sunbeumN woven into the ripple of iter brown hair. How his artist fingers I longed for canvas and colors, to give his beloved St. Agnes that beautiful hair! But the wild rose might as weil have been blooming in her native thicket. In vain Martie peeped from the front win dows, and held her breath when the door bell rang. No one came to see the gray dress that morning. 1 lie black dress fared better. It was called upon; and Martie went down to the jiarlor, with her heart in her mouth, to meet the grand lady whose carriage ami dashing horses she had watched as they drew' up in splendid style before the house. But, alas! Martie was not experienced, and Martie was too young, and, though inadame did not say so, Marty was too pretty, for there was a grown up son in the" family, and to set youth and beauty before" him in the shape, of a young goverress would be tempting Providence. Madame was very sorry, hoped this and that, and swept gracefully out to her carriage, while Martie monnted with rather a slow step to her little four-story room, to watch and wait, and wonder if everybody would find her too voung. She was not to blame for it, anyhow, she said to her self, trying to coax a laugh. No one else came ttiat day, but the next morning there was an "early call for “ the lady who advertised." Martie was glad she had on the gray dress; per haps she looked older in it. But gray or black was all the same ; she was again weighed iti the balace und found want ing—not in years this time, but in Ger man ; and as one weary hour after another went by, and no other appli cants appeared, Martie grew heavy hearted. Her adveitisement was to apjiear for three days. Two had already passed, resulting only in disappointment, Mrs. Allen tried to encourage her, but when night came, ardthe six o’clock flinner Mwrtip fplf an l i otvl Iwimouiolr “ I hope no one has made arrange ments to carry you ofl just yet,” Mr. Raymond said, as he took a seat beside her at their end of the long table. “ No,” said Martie. “ No one wants me. I’m too young, and I don’t know German.” And a big round tear rolled over into her teacup. *■ There’s no cause for discouragement in that, I assure you,” said Mr. Ray mond. “ I know people who would not find fault with you on either score.” Then he went on talking to her in such a pleasant way that she soon became in terested, forgot her troubles and the tears in her teacup, and was as merry as though she bad been older and had known German. Mr. Raymond stayed down stairs until 10 o’clock, read aloud an old-time fire side story, and kept the ball of conver sation rolling in such pleasant channels that the evening was gone before Martie knew it, and in spite ol all her disap pointment it had somehow been the pleasancest one she had spent there. The next morning a lady same to see Martie in behalf of her mother-in-law, and Martie engaged to go on the follow ing day to see the place and jieojde. There was no poetry about Mrs. My rick. She was pure, unadulterated; wanted her girls to have a good, strong education—no jimcracks, no furrin lan guage to jabber in. She was willing to pay good wages—would give a governess £20 a year and her board; but she mustn't expect much waiting on. They didn’t keep any servants—didn’t neecl any, a pity 'twould be if two hearty girls like hers couldn’t do their own work. Poor Martie. She would not say no at once, because this was, thus far, her only chance; so she promised to give an answer soon, and went back to her room praying heaven to send her something better. She thought her prayer was answered when a gentleman called that evening, talked with her about his three little girls, and seemed well satisfied with the modest account she gave of herself. He was very particular about music, how ever, and would be very glad to hear Miss Woodbridge play. Their interview hud taken place in the kindly shelter of the quiet little reception room; but the piano was in the big parlor, and in tlieir the professor and the Rev. Paul Apollos wore discussing earth and heaven. The Colonel was stalking about, showing off his martial figure; the young bride, by uie siue ui nor new lorn, w as non line court in tlie midst of a lively circle of callers. Shy, bashful Martie! bow could she play before all these people? Poor, timid little wren, that had just crept from un der the mother-wing and flown out of her nest. Could she show what sweet music she knew how to make with a crowd of listeners? There were none of the airs and graces of tlie music-pouiiding young woman about Martie, as she dropped down upon the piano stool and took a moment’s grace before entering upon tlie dreadful ordeal. ’Twas no use waiting, but oh, if the gentleman would but sit down! Why will he stand beside her and watch her poor frightened fingers, as they trip and stumble, give a wild jump for a dis tant note, miss it, make a dive lor one octave and light on another, and at last lose their way altogether and go on chas-' ing their wav up and down the keyi board. Martie knows tlie piece she is trying to play as well as she knows her name, but it all flies out of her head and slips away from her fingers, and she ends at last with a finale of her own impro vising, feeling her hair stand up straight on her head as she does it. The gentleman was “much obliged,” left almost immediately, and Martie, in a state of grief and mortification, was rushing through the halt, exclaiming, with a sob, as she covered her face with her hands, “What shall 1 do?” when she was suddenly stopped at the foot of the stairs by Mr. Raymond. “My dear child,” said he, “don’t take it so to heart. I’ve heard you play that piece before, ami thought now well you did it; but of course you couldn’t play with all those people staring and listen ing. The man was a brute to ask you to do it.” “Oh, no; it’s 1 who am such a simple ton,” said Martie, “but you are very good to me;" and she hurried up stairs, longing to get where nobody could see I her, but feeling comforted a little, even 1 then, by the tender sympathy which had done its best to console her. Once in her room the floodgates were opened, ami Martie cried over what she called her disgraceful failure, until she had succeeded in getting up a raging headache. Then she went to bed with the determination of writing in the morning to Mrs. My rick, informing that lady tnat she was ready to accept her offer and enter upon the “eddication” of her daughters. Hut before she had time to carry her resolution into effect Mrs. Myrick herself appeared, having made I up her mind that Martie would not do for them. She hadn't been brought in their ways, and was like to lie too per tickler. ThuH vanished all hopes of success from advertising. Mrs. Allen next advised that Martie should try one of the educa tional agencies in this city, and an ap plication was accordingly’ made. Then followed more days of a"i. i*us waiting and of hopes deferred, resulting at last in a visit and a generous offer from a lady who won Martie’s heart from the outset with her pleasant face and win ning ways and her gentle, motherly talk al>oht the little boy and the two little girls at home for whom she wanted a teacher and companion. But, alas ! that home lay hundreds of miles away. It seemed to Martie like going’ to the ends of the earth. She had twenty-four hours in which to decide; spent half the time in wavering between yes and no— between the courage to go and the home sickness that crept over her at the very thought of it. Then scolding herself for a genuine coward, she made up her mind that go she must and go she would. “What?” exclaimed Mr. Raymond in a tone of surprise. “Have you really made up your nund to go so far from hftine and all vour friends?” “Yes, I must go,” said Martie, with a little quiver in her voice. “Please don’t say anything to discourage me." “I wouldn’t for the world,” returned Mr. Raymond, “only that I know of a situation nearer home which you can have if you will accept it. Come into the reception-room and 1 will tell you about it.” Martie was all eagerness now. How delightfhl if, after all, she should not be obliged to make an exile of herself. “It is a companion, not a teacher, that is wanted,” Mr. Raymond continued. “ Would you be willing to take a situa tion as companion?” Martie’s face fell a little, but she an swerfifl: “I should be very glad to take such a situation, if I could till it. Do yoa think I could?” "I'm sure you could." "Do you know a person who wants a companion?" “Yes." “Who is it?” “Myself.” “Yourself! How—what—” The ex act question which Martie intended ask ing just here must be left to the imagi nation, since she did not seem to be quite clear about it herself. Mr. Raymond continued: “Yes, it is I, Martie. I want you for my compan ion, my wife.” The gray eyes twinkled as he asked, "will you take my situa tion?” An hour later Mrs. Allen entered the room exclaiming, “Bless my soul!” as she stumbled upon an unmistakable pair of lovers. “My dear Mrs. Allen,” said Mr. Ray mond, taking his blushing “companion” by the hand, and leading her to the as tonished old lady, "I know you will be glad to hear that Martie will'not now be aple to make an engagement with that lady; she has already made one with ine.” Joe Pitroong’ Adventure. Philadelphia Tim*g. Joe Parsons was a Baltimore boy, and a little rough, but withal a good-hearted fellow and a brave soldier. He got badly wounded at Antietam, and thus laconically described the occurance and what followed to some people who visit ed the hospital: “What is your name?” “Joe Parsons.” “What is the matter?" “Blind us a bat. sir; both eyes shot out.” “At what battle?” “Antietam.” “ljow did it happen?” “1 was hit und knocked down, and had to lie all night on the battle field. The fight was renewed next day, and I was under fire. I could stand tne pain, but could not see. 1 wanted to see or get out ei the lire. 1 waited and listened and presently heard a man groan ueur me. “ ‘Hello!’ says I. " ‘Hello yourself,’ says he. “ ‘Who be you?’ says 1. “ ‘Who be you?’ says he. “ ‘A Yankee,' says I. “ ‘Well, I’m a Reb,’ says he. “ 'What’s the matter?’ says I. * 1V,6 ° nuiomicii, dpv n uc. “ ‘Cuu you walk?” says I. “ ‘No,’ says he. “ ‘Can you see?’ says I. “ ‘Yes, says he. “ ‘Well.’ says I, ‘you’re* rebel, but I'll do you a little favor.’ “ ‘What’s that?’ says he. “ ‘My eyes are shot out,’ says I, ‘and if you’ll snow me the way I’ll carry you out,’ says I. “ ‘All right,’ says he. “ ‘Crawl over here,’ says I; aud he did. “ ‘Now, old Butternut,’ says I, ‘get on my back;’ and he did. “ ‘Go ahead,’ says he. “ ‘Pint the way, says I, ‘for I can’t see 11 blessed thing.’ “ ‘Straight ahead,’ ” says he. “The halls were a flying, all round und 1 trotted otf and was soon out ot range. “ ‘Bully for you,’ says he, ‘but you’ve shook my leg almost off.’ “ ‘Take a drink,’ says he, holding up bis canteen, and I took a nip. “ ‘Now, let us go on,’ says he, ’kind o’ slowly,’ and I took him up, und he did the navigation and J dul the walkin’. After i had carried him nearly a mile, and was almost dead, he said: “ ‘Here we are; let me down.’ Just then a voice said: “ Hello, Billy; where did you get that Yank?* “ ‘Where are we?’ suys 1. “ ‘In the rebel camp, of course,’ says lie; and <1-n my buttons if that rebel hadn't ridden me a mile straight into the rebel camp. Next day McClellan’s army advanced and took us both in, and then we shook hands and made it up; but it was a mean trick of him, don't you tliink so?” Mark Twain in Hadau-Hadaji “It is an inane town, filled with sham and petty fraud and snobbery, but the baths arc good. 1 spoke with muny people, and they all agreed in that. 1 (tad twinges of rheumatism unceasingly for three years, but the last one departed after a fortnight’s bathing there, and 1 have never had one since. I fully be lieve I left my rheumatism in Baden Baden. Buden- Baden is welcome to it. It was little but it was all I had to give. I would have preferred to give some thing that was catching, hut It was not in my jiower." FACTS FOR FARMERS. Omw and Hacks—Interesting Notes. GKK8K AND DUCKS. In selecting geese, choose from the Toulouse, Bremen or Chinese varieties. The Toulouse and Chinese are gray, f.h» Bremen white. Geese do not object to the snow in the winter ii it be not deep; but they should be allowed the shed or other inclosure in severe weather. They require only moderate feeding. We prefer allowing the geese to incubate their own eggs. When the goslings are hatched, retain them until about a week old. Feed them a little bread or meal, but they will live chiefly on grass and water. The water shouta be placed in a shallow dish sunk in the earth until the top ia level with the ground. The dish requires to be shallow. We had a friend who lost five young goslings by having a bucket sunk as above. The'old bubs splashed about half of the water out, and tne young birds going in were drowned. When a week old allow them to go until fall, when they should be fattened the same as turkeys. When picking a goose, submerge the bird in water almost boil ing hot, then wrap it coarse linen and place near the fire to dry. This is much better, easier and quicker than removing the feathers by the old method. Bring your goose in a nice condition to market. The favorite varieties ot ducks are Aylesbury, Rouen and Pekin. The Aylesbury and Pekin are white, the Rouen gray. Ducks require much the same winter management as geese, but cannot stand the cold as well. When they begin laying they must be shut in every night. If this be not done it be comes a difficult matter to find their eggs, as they are suspicious and change their nests very often. But, as they invariably lay early'in the morning, the eggs are easily gathered by shutting them in each night. It is best* to set their eggs under a nen. Wiien the young birds are uaicueu, jeeu uiem uie ssme oh me young turkeys, only we would not give them the onion tope. Arrange for them the water dish which the goslings have left. If any appear weak, give them a little new milk to drink. They require but little care in the summer. In the fall they should be fattened the Bame as geese and turkeys. Pick the same as the geese, and be sure and have them looking their best when taken to mar ket.—Farmert’ Advocate. INTERESTING NOTES. In the absence of bamvard manure, plaster or gypsum is the cheapest fertil izer for clover after it has come up, if applied at the rate of 100 pounds to the acre. Canary grass has been raised with con siderable profit in California, but we cannot learn that much success has at tended its trial at the East. It would probably do best in the middle and southern States. Corn smut is not poisonous like rye ergot. Analysis by Prof. W. K. Kedzie, of Kansas, showed that it had no starch, nor any deleterious constituents. Cows fed on it at the rate of six ounces a day, mixed with meal, were not injured; the one with wet food gained in flesh ; the one with dry meal lost flesh—showing that the injury caused by it was the want of moisture, in the same way that ani mals lose when fed on hard and dry cornstalks, from a want of digestible food and nutriment. Speaking of the best plan to rid a home of ants a lady writes : 1 have used tartar emetic, mixed with white sugar. For the quantity of sugar that a small saucc-plate would bold, put in as much tartar emetic as you could put upon the point of a large penknife blade. After it is mixed, moisten it with water to pre vent the ants from nrrvtnff it. nff and place it where never known it , ments of the pest. It is simple and effective. Salt is so soluble in water that it makes very little difference in what way it is applied, whether on plowed or grass land, on the surface or otherwise. If ou the surface, it is soon dissolved by rains, or by the moisture of the soil with which it is in contact. Even if slightly buried, the water of the soil soon effects its solu tion, and it is held and gradually diffused through it. The more common practice, however, is to spread it in spring on the surface, and allow the rains to carry it down into the soil. Experiments are limited as to its effects on different crops, no Jar, tney lavor us us* cnicny for wheat. Sometimes, perhaps, from peculiarities of soil, it has little effect. AatnlttM of OMM-tMkm. Courier-Journal. There are a number of applicants here who seek to All the place occupied bv the late J udge Hays. One of the aspir ants was in Washington when he re ceived the news of the vacancy at a late hour on the evening of Monday. About midnight a member of Congress and his wile were aroused by a thundering rap at their door. A note was handed to the halt-awake member. He read: “Judge Hays is dead; advise me promptly what to do to secure the place." The answer was: “Better not disturb the President to night; it will be a little more decent to wait until after the funeral." Such scrambles for office are so dis gusting that it is strange that gentlemen will so demean themselves. There is a story told of a man who was promised the first vacancy in the Post-office Department. One day while lastly sauntering near the river, he saw a dead man dragged ashore. He looked at the face and recognised a clerk whom he had known in the Post-office. He ran all the way to the department, rushed into the presence of the Postmaster-Gen eral an<l demanded his appointment. “I only promised you a place when there was a vacancy," said the Post master-General. “There is one,” said the excited indi-4 vidual. “I saw the dead body of John Jones dragged out of the river.” Slowly the Postmaster-!ieneral enun ciated the following words: “You are too late. One hour ago the place was given to the man who saw John Jones when he fell into the river." -,—^ Two Torrtbio Dull. London Telegiaph. A horrible story of a duel between 'wo inhabitants of Morocco is rejiorted from Oran. The two principlas, both occupying a good position, were enam ored ol the same beauty, and agreed to tight for her possession. The combut unts met at a short distance from Me nuinei, each being armed with a carbine a revolver and a hunting knife, and mounted ou horseback. The dualists rushed at one another at full speed, which resulted in one of the horses be ing killed, and the light was continued on foot. Alter the itwo men had re ceived several bullets in different parts of their bodies they closed and com ! sagged a voilent and horrilne struggle with their knives. One of the men thrust his knile into the other’s throat and received a cut from his enemy wtiich opened the whole of his chest. Too weak to use their arms, the dving men took to biting one another, and expired, the one with liis teeth closing on the other’s cheek, who gave up his last breath in endeavoring to rip open his adversary’s body. The object of the encounter was thus gained, as each prevented the other ob taining the hand of the girl, who must in future endeavor only to captivate one admirer at a time if she wishes to secure a husband. After all, this is child's play compared with a desperate encounter described by the impartial of Madrid as taking place at Valparaiso. A quarrel between two rival professors of music led to a chal lenge, the instrument selected being neither pen nor sword, but the piano. The conditions of the “encounter” were that neither party should eat or drink until honor had been declared duly satis fied, and that no waltzes or other lively airs should be indulged in. Seconds were appointed Hnd the duel proceeded with out intermission for forty-eight hours, at the end of which time one of the musi cians, after playing a “Miserere” for the 160th time, fell forward and sunk ex hausted on the floor. He was taken up a corpse. His adversary had been litter ally transformed into an “enraged musi cian.” and was in that state removed to the hospital. The seconds themselves gave signs of being seriously “touched.” and each of the pianos was’ found to be in a hoplessly crazy condition. Such, at least, is the result of the medical exam ination. a iiAitirinitmi nminunfliinir n vwn v ivi o uunmitruii l . Five Dollar* for Ireland’* Poor from a Prisoner. Philadelphia Press. Warden Townsend of the Eastern Pen itentiary of Pennsylvania was asked a curious request some weeks ago by a prisoner under his charge. Learning of the terrible sufferings of the poor in Ire land, Prisoner “No. 94,” as he is known to the officials, inquired of the Warden as to the sum that stood to his credit on the prison books for extra work. He was told that n little over $5 was the amount, and he requested of the War den to obtain for him a draft on Ireland for £1, payable to the order of Sister Mary Frances Clare, the nun of Ken mare. This was done, and in a letter written by the donor the charitable gift was inclosed and mailed to the country in which the poor fellow was born. A few weeks elapsed and the nun of Ken mare’s answer was received, winch is as follows: Convent of Pooh Clares, Kbnmark, 1 County Kerry, March 3,1880. 1 My Dear Poor Fellow—For a long time I did not receive a letter that nf fected mo so deeply as yours, written as it was from your prison cell, and from the thinking of the sufferings of others, forgetful of your own, and sending me the sum of £1 from your own hard earnings to relieve the distress of others. All I can sav is, that the head and heart that has done this generous act cannot be a bad one, and wiiatever act you have committed to oblige the law to punish you must indeed have been done in a thoughtles* hour. May our good and merciftil Hod look down upon you this ilay with eyes of mercy and compas sion, comfort and console you, and give you the great grace of resignation to His most holy will. 1 wish you would write again and tell me all about yourself, and thank the good kind Warden who has allowed you to write. I am sending you a little book by this post. Read a page of it every dav, and we will not forget you in our prayers. Sr. M. F. Clare. Warden Townsend opened and read the letter aad then delivered it to “No. 94,” “for,” said he yesterday, “when once the iron doors of this place are opened to receive a convict, the name by which he is known in the outside world is left behind him. and with the clank ing of the prison gates all memory of liis former position in life is forgotten and the number of the cell in which he is incarcerated, is used to designate both the iiihii mill tlu> f m'i 'in in lit WKpii Hid generous fellow was handed the kind letter from the famine-stricken country, he burst into tears us soon as be had fin ished reading the missive. The man was touched by the hopes held out for him and it was some hours before he re gained his accustomed composure and quietness. He has been in prison now about eighteen months and has two months more to serve before his time is up. Since his imurisoninent he has con ducted himself with m ire than usual good behavior. He was sent here con victed of a burglary, committed in the southern portion of the city. I know it was not Ins fault, as he was led into it by evil associations, for ho is a young mail, unmarried, and about thirty years of age, and as he says himself he dates his downfall from acquaintances picked up in bar-rooms. The way he obtained the money which he sent to Ireland was by working extra, in making shoes at night, while many of the other prison ers pass their spare time, from 6:30 to 9 p. m., in reading or idling. It takes a tong while for a man to earn $5 by extra j work, as the Htate only allows him Irom ! five to ten cents for the extru task which he is willing to perform, und half of this goes to the county as a sort of recom pense, so the poor fellow Iioh had to work hard for his gift. ‘No. 94’ is a man I’m sure will never return to this place, and since he has been here he lias won the conlideuce and merited the resiiect ol ) all the keepers, for he is polite and obe- | dient at all times, ami does not belong' to that criminal class which necessitates j the keeping of such an institution as the Eastern Penitentiary.’’ These days no one is sale from the charge of plagiarism. Brown went to church last Sunday—a thing unusual— j and upon being asked bis opinion of the j clergyman, said, “Ob, his sermons are j very good, but that prayer, begining with ‘Our Father,’ I think he stole entire. I know I have heard something some- i where that it was strangely like.—Button ' Tranteripl. ..■ — «♦» The biggest rat in Georgia was killed a few days since in a house at Columbus. It was killed by u little negro, and when weighed kicked the beaut at six pounds. The littlo negro sold its skin for twenty five cents. This is a true story. A NEW YORK SCANDAL. The Marital 1 roubles of the I>rainatlr News Rditor. N. Y. Times. Louis Timian, a broker, in 1869 mar ried a young girl sixteen or seventeen years of age, named Laura E. Jennings. He was a consumptive, broken down in health, as well as in pocket. Shortly after their marriage, Charles A. Byrne, a reporter on some obscene paper, saw and fell in love with the wife. He en treated her to leave her husband and live with him as his wife. He resorted fo all devices to break up the relations of husband and wife l>etween Timian and Mrs. Timian. His hostility extend ed so far as the maltreatment of the woman with Mows, and in orderto drive Timian and his wife from the various boarding bouses in which they lived, he visited the places in Timian’s absence, destroyed the furniture, even upsetting stoves with burning coals in them, and otherwise made it impossible for re spectable landladies to keep them in their houses. Personal encounters were fre quent between Bvme and Timian, until the latter left this country for lear of Byrne, thus abandoning bis wife. Subsequently Byrne made a civil con tract of marriage between himself and Laura Timian, drawing an elaborate Contract, and two years later, in 1873. upon his lurnisbing her proof of Timi an’s death, they were married at St. Ann’s Church, by Father Lake, Mr. Byrne’s mother being the principal wit ness of the marriage. Since the mar riage the woman has largely supported Byrne, chiefly by keeping boarders. She saved up a few hundred dollars, and in vested it with a theatrical manager known as Josh Hart, in a weekly paper, which, after a considerable struggle for existence, finally became remunerative. The means employed to make the paper successful were of the most disreputable character. The editor became known and was generally denounced as a black mailer. About a year ago Byrne became ac quainted with Dr. Merrill, a dentist in VV'est Thirty-second street, who had a wife ambitious to go on the stage. Byrne betrayed her, and Ur. Merrill brougnt a suit for divorce on the ground of her criminal intimacy with Byrne. It was granted by Judge Donohue about six weeks ago. The wife, Mrs. Timian Byrnc, on the proof of her husband’s conduct, refused any longer to live with him. As a part owner of the piper al luded to she demanded a settlement witli Josh Hart. A pretended settle ment resulted not only in depriving her of her half interest in the paper, but also in the institution of divorce pro ceedings by her against her husband. This was for the purpose, as Mrs. Byrne discovered, of enabling Charles A. Byrne to marry Alfa Merrill, who had been di vorced from her husband on account of her infidelity. On discovering this, Mrs. Byrne dismissed her lawyer, A. H. Hum mel, employed John D. Townsend, and stopped the divorce proceedings. She also began a suit for the. recovery of her property on the pajier alluded to. About three weeks ago Charles A. Byrne and Alfa Merrill, accompanied by Charles W. Brooke and Mav llart, alias Mrs. John Saville, went to Niagara Falls crossed the new susjiension bridge, and registered at the Prospect House as Charles W. Brooke and wile, Charles A. Byrne and Miss A. Humphreys, “Rice’s Surprise Party.” The same day they went to the town clerk at Drutnmonu ville, Canada, to obtain a marriage li cense. Mr. Byrne made affidavits to the effect that he was a bachelor and that Miss A. Humphrey was a spinster. He thus obtained a license, witli which lie went to the residence of the Rev. Mr. Ingles, and asked to be married. The clergyman refused to marry them in the house, and the party went to the church. In the course of the ceremony Mr. Byrne was asked several questions, among others was the lady a spinster; and lie replied: “Yes; a spinster.” “Oh, no!” said the ex-Mrs. Merrill; “1 have been married before.” “Oh. said the uiisusjiecUng clergyman, “a widow.” “Yes,” said she, "a widow.” The cere mony was then performed and the party departed, returning to this city und liv ing present on January 20 at the open ing of the Hunipty Dumpty performance at Booth’s theater. The commission of this bigamy became known about a week and a half later. Mr. Charles W. Brooke, being asked if it were true that he and Mrs. Saville stolid up with the persons, denied that he was present. The lawyers of Mrs. Byrne, however, employed a gentleman I ♦ n nldu!n nrtutfu uiwl lit* truiuwl (hn I party to Drummondville, obtained a rec ord of the marriage, and brought the clergyman to New York. Affidavits were drawn up by Messrs. Townsend and Weed, reciting these general facts, and warrants were issued by Justioe Duffy against Charles A. Byrne for biga my and Alfa Merrill or Humphreys for felony. Orders were given to the officers to secure Byrne at once, although the warrants were issued at n late hour, hut not to disturb the woman until morning. Byrue evaded arrest the same day by inducing an office clerk named Louis Post to personate him. When the war rant was served it was discovered that the officers tiad the wrong man. But the officers, not to lie defeated, traced Byrne to his home. His residence up ti) a few days ago hail lieen No. 333 West Ninety-second street, but it having been reported to the police as a disreputable house, the occupants hud to remove. Byrne thereupon tiad taken a tint at No. 82V Seventh avenue, along with his pur amour, where he was arrested by two ] officers. Byrne ami Mrs. Merrill were arraigned yesterday morning ut Joffer- j son Market Police Court before Justice Dully, The charge against him was big amy] preferred by Laura E. Byrne, his wile, and against Alfa Merrill thut of felony. Bail to the amount of $1,500 for each prisoner was given. .- - Ouida, Philadelphia Pre«»a. Ouida has no longer the uppeuranee of youth. She is stout, and dresses neatly; is luxurious in 1 er tastes, hut is not now and never could have been pretty. She has nothing courteous nor sympathetic in her manner. To her guests she is severely jiolite, but prefers listeiAig to talking. She never condescends To dis cuss her looks with women, as she does not consider them capuble of compre hending her. Ouida is not content with being thought only a clever writer, her higher ambition is to he considered a great artist, and her vilki is adorned with pictures which she has painted in those hours when she has laid aside pen and paper for canvass and brush. Her pa ings are much more moral than books, but her novels ure more arti than tier paintings. --♦— , Huprame Court aud Sunday I .aw*. St. I.ouis Republican. The Supreme Court of Michigan the Supreme (Jourt of Maine have la wrestled witli the Sunday laws in t respective States, and made const tions and decisions in two cases' fiabbath-breakiug of different charm The law in each of the States is al the same. In Michigan a Metho minister one Sunday appealed for mo and subscriptions of money to buil church. A church-memPer suhsrri • 125, but afterward reconsidered bis erality and refused to pay the ainot jj1 He was sued, and pleaded that promise to pay was a business tran tiou, and having liecn made on Sun * was illegal and void and could not enforced. The statutes of the S prohibit, under penalty, "any manue Labor, business or work on Sunday, cept only works of necessity and cl itv.” The subscriber claimed that was work to write his name, and b ness to promise to pay money, and t the acts were not those of necessity charity. The court differed with i defendant in reference to charity, i , was of opinion that all work eonnec , with religious worship is work of cl ity, else under the law the organist co not play or the parson preach. T, looks like bending the law lor the ben of church business, for, as a general n j the organist does not play nor the nc ister preach for charity, but for a salar u certain sum of money for a cert kind and amount of work. Pome of 1 1 preachers get well pail, too, and tl go where they get best paid, and tl would not like to have it charger! uj them that they lived on charity. Uni this construction of the Sunday law, church, and even religion itself, are down as paupers, and beg their hv of the people. The court decided t; the defendant must give the mot which he subscribed on Sunday charity. ' i In the other case the question wi Ta it In n-ful n man nrollr 4 highways in Maine on Sunday for ex . rise? A man walked out oneSunday • Portland, and, by reason of a defect 1 sidewalk, he fell and sustained bod injury. He sued the city for damag , and the cause was carried up to t , Supreme Court. The complainant v walking confessedly for recreation, a went into a saloon and took a glass > beer for refreshment. After this he 1 on the sidewalk and broke his leg. T Sunday law of Maine also exempts fr< prohibition works «f charity or necessi The city of Portland claimed that wa ing for fresh air and exercise on Sund is not a necessity, and that, on such walk, breaking a leg is Babbath-breakii The court decided that it is not unlaw to walk out in Maine on a Sunday i exercise. Stopping for a glass of lx was a violation of the statute, but t court held that one glass of beer was r sufficient to contribute to the disash : The pavement was at fault, and Portia will have to pay for the broken leg. ~ TheNobllltjr. N. Y. Ttnu*. Now, to what does all this tend? ' the paradox that a real nobility isathi: belonging to a republic rather than to monarchy. Experience proves it. Row Venire, Berne, Ragusa were the seats nobility in the highest sense. su«h nob ity as France or Spain, as Austria Sweden have no claim to rival. Ai why? In a monarchic State nobility the gilt of the king. He cannot, indee give noble forefathers, but lie can gr noble rank and title. He cun, ut h caprice, lift the beggar from the dungh and Bet him among princes. In Eustei despotisms, where tnis is literally don there is no nobility; there can be non Western kings seldom played such e treirie tricks. So, under them a inoditu nobility existed. But for nobility, pu; and simple, nobility absolutely untoucl ’ ed, not owing to the caprice of any sing man, but dependent simply on descei from noble forefathers, we must go i the commonwealth. I had almost sai to the aristocrat’s commonwealth, hi we may extend the saying to the demi , cratic commonwealth also. For, as thei may be uobility without title, «*> thei may be nobili'y without political priv lege. The vote of an Athenian eupatn went for no more in the Athenian Asseu blv tbull the vote of his npiirhlsir. th .sausage seller. But the eupairid was noil the less noble, and he was, by virtu of his nobility, |far, more likely thn the sausage-seller to be raised to tli high offices of the commonwealth. I the pure democracies of Schuyz an UlaruH. where no man, no family, ha any legal privilege above another, me of the noble houses of Rediug an Tschudi were placed, year after year, a the head of the State by the free vote of the people. As long as Koine was rt publican ate kept her nobility, and th simple though elaborate system of fam'l nomenclature which expressed it. Un der the early empire, nomenclature be came confused; under the Inter empirt men took to being dukes and counts, t lieing called ‘•honorable” anti “ illustn ous,” just as in later times. •300 Reward—Catarrh Cure. Some people would rather be humbugge. than to get “ value received ” for thei money. Hence it is that such persons rut after this and that pretended cure fo catarrh, forgetting that Dr. Sage’s t'atarrl Remedy is so |>oeitive in its effects that it former proprietor advertised it for year throughout the United States under a posi tive guarantee, offering $600 reward for at incurable case and was never called upoi to pay this reward except in two cast's This remedy lias acquired such a fame tha a branch office lias been established in I-on don, England, to supply the foreign demuni for it. Sold by druggists at 50 cents. UNAULK TO BKKATHK THBOCOH NOSK. Pobti.annviLiK, Iowa, March 11, 1879. Da. R. V. I’ikki k: Deab Sib—-Some tim ago I bought a Douche, some of you Dr. Sage’s Catarrh Remedy and Holder Medical Discovery and commenced to us them. The aches and pains as wel as sore throat and catarrh from whicl I have been for so long a ti mu a sufferer have entirely loft me with their use. 1 fee like a new man. as well as look like one Fur four years 1 was unable to breath through my nose. From the use of tin Catarrh Remedy 1 can now do so ireeiy Your medicines 1 know to tie all that they are represented. Long live Dr. Pierce an< the gentlemen connected with him. (Irate fully yours, Watson Smith. . ■ --- Notwithstanding that the seating o thirteen persons at table is considered i fatal omen, the calling of that mimin' “a linker’s dozen" has no reference ti cremation.