Middletown transcript. [volume], November 21, 1868, Image 1

About Middletown transcript. [volume] (Middletown, Del.) 1868-current

Image provided by: University of Delaware Library, Newark, DE

_
-
-
_L-L_L - g H}
SB
«
-
V: TT' ' ï
iii
■
pl
i Ä ir'*stS£2i"i . T?
.... . f& -x K ■ -■
ff *'*
♦
•- * '
$
.
%a.
A%// v
&**ix,*$
»
;
LETOWN, NEW CASTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, SATURDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 21, 1868.
MIDD
VOL. I.
NO. 47.
NEW GOODS!!
FOR THE FALL TRADE
AT
Charles T. Stratton's,
ODESSA, DEL.
J UST received a splendid line of Fail Goods,
and for sale at STRATTON'S STORE, iu
ODESSA.
Look at the Prices.
Appleton "A" Muslin, the best unbleached
in the market, full yard wide at 17 cents.
Waltham unhleaphcd double fold full l.V yards
wide at 17J cts. at * Ç. T. STRATTON'S.
Augusta Muslin, very heavy, 1 yard wide, 16
cents, at C. T. STRATTON S.
I and 1 yard wide Muslin at 8, 10, li, -12, 13
and 14 cents per yard, at
C. T. STRATTON'S
Large lot of good Prints, selling off at 10 aud
C. T. STRATTON'S.
11 cts per yard, at
Pacific Delaines and Armuvc, sailing at 20 and
0, .STRATTON'S.
22 cents per yard at
Poplins, Alpacas all colors, selling for 31 cts.
per yard at C. T. STRATTON'S.
Heavy Kersey, nmde in Delaware, for 85 cents
p*r jard, at Ç. STRATTON'S.
Menions Sattinett, very good for 60 cts at
C. T. STRATTON'S.
Good Jeans and Farmers Cas. for boys' wear
at 20. 25, and 30 cents per yaiv). at
C. T. STRATTON'S.
Hoop Skirts, fashionable and good, 25, 30 and
35 springs, for 88 ceutsat
p. T. STRATTON'S.
Floor Oil Cloth, full yard wide, at
fhe market for 75 cents per vard. at
0. T. STRATTON'S.
good
GHOCELilKS.
White Sugar,
Bro. "
Id cts. l^r lh.
14
124 "
Coffee,
Grain Coffee,
Best do
Fort Rico Mollisses,
N
28
80 "
" gab
Prime Mess Pork, 18 cents per lb. The best
Sugar cured Hams, 25 cents, for sale at
C. T. STRATTON'S.
W)
Sckoiai. Attf.ntion is given to
READY MADE CLOTIIIIsG.
We have a large assortment ; Full suit
as six Dollars, all sizes.
BOOTS AND SHOES,
Very Cheap.
Guaranteed to tie sold as low a* by the city
retailers.
HATS AND CAPS
At Jobbers priées, as we get the
manufacturer. Call and examine aud be con
vinced.
from the
CHARLES T. STftATTON.
OllBSSA, Dm,.
October 3—ly.
NEW GOODS
AT
REDUC ED P RICES.
NATJDAIN & BROTHER,
are opening a fresh stock of
FALL ANP WINTER GOODS,
£eipg piifehnaeA since the full in many kimls of
the tame. Being tiouglit for Cush, aud from first
hands, principally—lienee we avoid tlie second
profit of the jobher and intend giving the advan
tage to our liberal friends.
. Out stock consists of Merinoes, blk col'd Al
pacas, Wool Poplin*, Wool de. Laines. Good
assortment of Prints, Cotton and Weoi flannels,
fr O, 21 Bleach'd and Bro. .Muslin, Balmoral
ßkirts, Shawls and Uwda, Ladies Vests, Gents
fCnit Shirts apd Drawer», White and Col'd Blauk
HATS AND CAPS, DRUGGETS,
CARPET AND OIL CLOTHS,
Painted Window Shades,
GLOVES, HOSIERIES, AND
FANCY GOODS.
In fact, anything kept in a first clap- country
•tore.
We call particular attention to our fine stock of
Over-Coatings, Cloths & Cassimeres,
which we make a Special!)}-,
qdffog from tfo Mnnuhuturfr.v Ladies'
:s, BAcj Children's Shovs, Gents sewed and
ipsa* 4 , double upper and sole, Calf Boots, Men'B
(jeavy, winter Bifots h Shoes, that wc have made
of the best material ; and guarantee satisfaction.
gACKEUE' .SIjAi), ASD HEHSIXO
Mi
Always on Hand.
Liberal fliscount for cash, and show Goods with
pleasure.
N & BRO.
Middletown.
Oct. 10—ly
Middletown furniture Warerooms.
JOSEFIlll. ENOS
XT KEFS constantly on h#.nd
fV FURNITURE suitable fe
fisting of
ap assortment of
tlie market, con
COTTAGE SÏIITS,
BEDSTEADS, CHAIRS, WASHSTANDS,
<u»A »tnlug Boofa Furniture, fcc.
AISO
. FURNISHING UNDERTAKER.
styles; Metallic Cor»
outer. Jau. 4~tf
COFFINS ofallkituls »i.J
jeets ; Patent Burial Cases to
.... ~,—..-it-
ogles, Siding, and Rails,
-Cedar Shingles, Siding and Rails,
quality, for sal«, near Taylor's
quinimink Hundred, New Castle
Äfiply to
ROBERT JOHNSON.
;
'fofo
rmjm
|odig.
pr
riage
of
wife
with
other
fir
to
toe
shall
to
rirg
nii
the
short,
time
end,
was
do
idea
in
GDI IV« AND G03IÜVG.
The pleasant summer mouths, alas ! have fled,
And mellow Autumn, with her fruit«, is here,
Wearing the licctic flush upon her cheeks
Which mniks the glow decadence of the year;
And through the leaves the sad winds softly moan
For the sweet summer which, alas ! has flown.
No more I 'hear the cheery
Dowu in the meadow where the grass grew tall,
No more I hear their sytlie-blades blithely ring ;
A tender pirple mist bangs over all,
Vcllllng the valley aud each Wooded steep
Where nods the golden reed as if in sleep.
at
,-ers sing
wile,
The restless bluebird through the wood flits by,
She utters scarce a note through all the day ;
The blackbird's liquid voice has turned to dry—
Alas 1 alas ! they soon will pass away I
And these bri A it tint.- which mark the closing year
Ere many du. s will wither and groiv sers-'
Here gazing i n them, whero I sit apart,
These lean s of gold, these berries of rieh red,
seem to see the ghost of War go by,
Leaving til : traces of his bleedtug tread
In these lone paths which skirt the solemn wood
Where oft I ' under wrupt in silent mood.
the shadojyay yigta of the Fust
blood-stained robes, and roll away
' the buttle s deafening blast ;
e coining of the dawn of day,
within her vineyard, smiling Peace,
utyaud of large increase.
I
And through
Vanish his
The echoes of
And like tl
Walks Peace
Parent of pit
Too well I krow these Autumn days must pass,
Like the d< iul Slimmer which lias gone before ;
These painter glories ail must fade, alas !
Like hopes which perish and are known no more
And down three walks the a hilling leaf will go
On chilly wit ds that through December blow.
Already now rip yonder mountain height
bounds Winter's clairon wailing through the
trees,
Calling his hots from out the fropeii North,
Where toppling icebergs Bail the polar seus;
Aud streaming far across the lonely night
•Shine the Aurpru's quivering beams of light.
Cl
But though the Winter comes with sleet and snow,
And wtiiliirg winds that howl with voices drear,
Upon the hea rth the ruddy flames shall glow,
And seated there with friends whom we hold
dear,
Unmindful of the bitter, searching blast
\Ye will not mourn the seasons that are past. '
CL
Lot
wife
she'll
pn
ran
run
popular i^alfH.
MY r AUGHTER-IN-LAW. -
"I pever, never will forgive him," said
old Mr. Re ningtop, solemnly depositing
bis great gold spectacles ip their green
leather case.
"Nor I, either," sobbed Mrs. Reming
ton, heedless of the unwonted disorder of
her cap.-strings. ."To marry that bold,
dashing city girl without so much as wait
ing for our permission."
"But yo i know, my dear," suggested
the old gentleman, "we shouldn't have
given it to him if ho had waited half a
century."
"Certain y wo should not," said Mrs.
Remington emphatically. "To think of
our only crild treating us so cavalierly,
Abel, the inly one we have got iu the
world "
"Ho has made his hod, and must lie on
it," said tie old man sternly. "I will
never receb'e his gay city bride here, and
so I shall write to him immediately. We
are seared' fine enough for a Fifth Avc
nua daughter-in-law."
As he spoke, the old man picked up a
crumpled letter that he had thrnwu on the
floor in the first paroxysms of his anger,
and smoothed out its folds with a mechan
ical touch.
"Why only think of it, Abel,"
Mrs. Rem'ngton, "Maliala Buckley serv
ed for six weeks in this— fois girl's cou
sin's family, and she says Evlyn Sayre
could smoke a little paper cigar just like a
man, and used to go skating with her
dress tucked up to the top of her boots,
and she drove a barouche, with the groom
sitting behind—and—"
"Bless ny soul !" interrupted tbe old
gentleman, bis breath nearly taken away
by the catalogue of enormities. "Bless
my soul, you donH say so. And our
Charles is named to such an amazon as
this."
—i
gold
of
an
laty,
"'
seem
0
Cl:
ton.
so
thing
•nil
me
by
lier
of
P
01
said
tbm
til
you
dc
Aid
ms
ar:t
w
je
aid
two
by
for
w
di
her
ued
ing,
Wr.
li
C
net
M
tli
So tbe couple sat in tbe roomy porch of
the capacious old farm house, with the
Michigan tose« tossing little billetdoux in
to their lajs in scented showers, and foe
delicious odors of foe fresh-mown hay com
ing up fron tbe meadow flnts by the river,
as miserable an old couple as you want to
Meanwbile Mrs. Charles Remington, a
bride of th:ee weeks standing, was'making
herself supremely happy at Niagara. She
sat on a fidlen log, among the delicious
shades and seclusions of Qoat Island, that
bright Jure day, with the lights and shad
ows chasing each other across her lovely
face and timing her long chestnut curls
to coils of gold. Dressed all in white, sho
was fastening a wreath of flowers into the
ribbon of her coqnetlsb little hat and sing
ing some cld ballad softly to herself.
Evlyn I emington was very handsome—
neither blende nor brunette, she contrived
to unite th? charms of both in her rose
leaf eomp exion. bright hair and misty
brown eyei, and the smiles that dimpled
her fresh scarlet lips, were messengers
straight from tbe heart.
Presently sbe was joined by her bus
band—a fill, handsome young fellow, in a
white linen suit and graceful bat."
"Two li tters, Evlyn," he said lightly,
"and bad news in both."
"Bad ii 'ws? Oh, Charles!" and the ro- w
ses faded suddenly away from the bride's
cheek.
"Well, not so very bnd, and yet not so
_« - » " rnia!"
of
er lap a stiffly w
^ of blue papere
pr ission of their disapproval of the mar
riage he had contracted. apd an assertion
of their deterrpj nation never to receive his
wife as a daughter.
Evlyn looked into her husband's face
with lier bright eyes fujl of tears.
"Oh, Charles, I am sorry."
He laughed and quoted to her the old
Scripture phrase: "A man shall leave his
her and mother and cleave unto his
"And now don't you grapt to sec the
other letter, Evlyn ?"
It was a summons from the mercantile
fir n with which ChnrleB Remington was
connected, an earnest entreaty that he
wculd visit Central America in their in
ternets, immediately,
'■'Coo}, isn't it, to request a bridegroom
to walk off in that sort of a way ? for it is
toe rough a voyage to ask you to share it,
dearest. I leave it for you to decide—
shall I go or stay ?"
"Go by all means. Should I ask you
to linger by my side when duty calls you
away, a poor wife I should be."
He kissed her flushed cheek with admi
rirg tenderness.
"And where aha!! I leave you, mybon
nii bride?"
"Oh, I will make a brief visit home in
the meantime. It cuts our wedding tour
short, but then you know we have a life
time to finish opr honey-moon in ''
3o the brief Niagara sojourn came to an
end, and, Mrs.Remington for the season
was a widowed bride.
"He will soon be back," she said to
hei'sclf, "andin the meanwhile, oh, I intfst
do so much."
"Yes," said old 5(rs. Remington com
pbeently, f?I think that was a splendid
idea of yours, Abel, sending for Lot
aunoey's orphan to adopt. It'll teach
urles and his stuck up wife that we're
in earnest about what wc wrote, and Ma
at
wile,
Cl
CL
Ch»ni)P c y ffQff't Ijave qo city airs nor
graces. I'm dreadfully anxious to see her.
Lot was a likely looking fellow, and my
cousin twice removed, aiul folks said hjs
wife was a regular beauty, Ï guess likely
she'll come by the stage to-nigfit."
"I guess |ike}y there she is now," said
Abei, is 1)0, fitting by the open window,
caught foe first glimpse of a slender figure
coming up the path, and carrying a well
pn :ked carpet bag and Mrs. Remington
ran forward to kiss and wefoome foe new
comer.
run
Mariai) Chauncey was exceedingly pret
ty—Mrs. Kcmington soon discovered that
—i bright little ryirjsotne creature with
gold crown hair that would oiirj iu spite
of the restraining net, loving hazel eyes
an 1 tremulous red lips,
"Oh Abel!" quoth the soft hearted old
laty, at tbe end of two days, "why didn't
"' ailes wait until he haj seep Marian
auncey? Is she not sweet—don't it
seem like a gleam of sunshine iti the obi
house when she is tripping around ?"
"She is very pretty," said Mr. Reming
0
Cl:
ton.
"And then," pursued the old lady, she's
so handy. She knows just where every
thing is k,ept, apd foff to do everything,
•nil she does uiy caps exquisitely, and you
shruld have seen how skillfully she drove
me to meeting yesterday. Oh, Abel, if
ividence had only seen fit to send us a
daughter-in-law liko dear little Marian
auncey."
Mrs. Remington's speech was cut short
by tlie entrance of the subject of it, with
lier apron full of eggs and her hands full
of wild flowers.
P
01
"Mrs. Remington,
she began, and
tbm checking herself with abruptness—
"Oh, 1 cannot call you by that long, for
ai name; may I call you mother?"
"Of course yon may my darling,
til : enthusiastic old lady,
you wore my real daughter."
Marian laid down her flowers and de
posited her store of pearly white eggs in a
busket on tlio table, and then came up to
rs. Remington, kneeling down and nest
ng her bright head ip foe old lady's
check apron."
"Mother," she murmured softly, "yon
dc not know how sweet the word sounds
Aid will you always love me and cherish
ms and let me be a real daughter to you?"
"I should be a hard-hearted old corinor
ar:t if I didp't, pet," said foe old lady, her
spectacles dimmed with tears.
In short Marian Chauncey became the
light of foe farm house ; the bright little
guardian genuis of its ceiled rooms and
w de airy halls. She read the paper to
farmer Remington ; she compounded cake,
je ly and sylabubs, to the astonishment
aid delight of the old lady,—she kept tbe
two qld china vases op foe mantle brim
ming over with a rain of roses; sbe knew
by instinct just when to darken the room
for the old man's afternoon nap on tbe
w de chintz sofo, and was better than ten
di ctors when Mrs. Remington had one of
her bad nervous headaches.
"I really don't see how wc ever contin
ued to live without Marian," said the old
gentleman.
''But she shall never leave us," said
Mrs. Remington, decidedly.
"Marian ! little bright eyes, Fve got
news," called the old gentleman one morn
ing, through the hall ; "leave those honey
stcklesfor someone else to tie up, and
ocme in here. Charles is coming home."
"To stay sir ?"
"No not to stay ; of course his fine city
ifo demands his permanent devotion."
Wr. Remington could not help speaking
with a sneer, "but he will spend tbe day
here, on his way to Now York. I should
li ie you to see Charles—and I should like
C hurles to see you. Ifon't blush—if you're
net better looking lhan his Fifth Avenue
wife, she must be a paragon aqirmg wumeg
said
"I only wish
M
tli
w
that's all J've got to say."
"When will be lie here ?"
"In about an hour, I should judge from
his letter, he always writes an awful scrawl
—m's and u's just half alike and half the
time forgets to cross his t's ; hpt I suppose
that's the fashion now-a-days."
Marian Chauncey crept away to, her
room to brush out the red golden curls and
adjust the blue ribbon, and wondered shy
ly to herself, what "Charlie" would say
when he saw tho new element that had
contrived so to interweave itself into the
old home of his boyhood.
"But I don't think he will be angry !"
said Marian in a half whisper as she pinn
ed a white rose in her breast, and prepar
ed to descend in. obedience to Mrs. Rem
ington's c»ll of:
"Marian, Marian, come down and Bee
my boy."
Charles Remington stood iu the middle
of the floor with up arm around his radi
ant little mother, while the old gentleman
from his big easy chair delightfully watch
ed over the tableau, as Marian slowly ad
vanced. ■»
f
I
T
I
I
I
I
I
I
"Charles," said Mrs. Remington beam
ing all over, "this is our n w daughter
who—
I
But Charles had s
caught the slight wi
arms, while the goldeu hair floated over
her shoulder.
"Evlyn! My wife?"
Mr. Remington Btared at his wife, Mrs.
Remington stared at her husband.
"He's mad," whispered the old man,
"Charles," he added aloud, "you are mis
taken, this is Marian Chauncey, our adop
ted daughter."
"No sir, jt js pot," faltered the young
lady in question, "I am Evlyn, your sou's
wife. I have stolen into your hearts on
false pretences—but I did so long for your
love. And when you sent for Marian,
who is one of my dearest school friends, l
persuaded her to remain at. home, apd al
low me to personate l)ey just a te\y weeks.
Father, mother, you will not turn me oui
of your affections now !"
"And you knew nothing of this!" de
manded old Mr, Remington, of his son.
"Not a word; it is Evlyn's own idea."
And Evlyn, half laughing, half crying,
stole iuto her mother-in-law's extended
arms.
:ilt don't seem possible that, she is the
Fifth avenue girl !" said the old gentleman
"come here aud give me a kiss, Ma -
Evlyn, I moan."
"No, she is our real daughter after all!"
said proud Mrs. Remington. Evlyn had
esnquerod their prejudices with the en
chanted wund of love.
forjyprd and
ure in his
ipruqg tc
iljing fig
I
I
TUc Mnlrien's Peril.
Lieutenant Shoch, of the Dutch East In
dia army, was on a march with a small de
tachment of troops aud coolies, on the
southern coast of Borpco. He had en
camped, on one occasion, during the noon
day heat, on the banks of one of the small
tributaries of the Bangarinassin. The lieu
tenant had with him his domestic establish
ment, which inelpded his daughter—a
playful aud interesting little girl of the ago
of thirteen.
One day, while wandering in thejunglc,
beyond tho prescribed limits of tiic camp,
and hpviug, from tho oppressive heat,
loosened her garments aud thrown them off
almost to nudity, the beauty of her persou
excited the notice of an orang-outang, who
sprang upon her and carried her off. Her
piercing screams rang through the forest
to the ears of her dozing protectors, and
roused every man fo camp. The swift,
bare-footed coolies were foremost ip pur
suit; and now the cry rings ip foe agonized
father's ears that his daughter is devoured
by a bianstang—again, that an oraug-ou r
tang lias carried her off. He rushes, halt
frenzied, w)th foe )fo 0 |e company, to the
thidjet w fonce the soreatua proceeded—and
there among the topmost limbs of an en
ormous buyan, the father beheld his daugh
ter, naked, bleeding, and struggling in the
grasp of a powerful orang-outang, which
held her tightly, yet easily with one arm,
while he sprung lightly from limb to limb,
as if wholly unencupibered. Jp yas in
vain to think of shooting the monster, so
agile was he. The Dypk eoojies knowing
the habits of the orang-outang, aud kpow
ing that he will always plunge into the
pearest stream when bard pressed, began
a system pf operations to drive him into
the water. They set pp a great shout,
throwing missiles of all kinds, and agita
ting foe underbrush, Tyhile some proceed
ed to ascend foe tree. By the redoubled
exertions of the whole company, the mon
ster was driven toward the water, yet ptill
holding tightly to the poor girl.
At last the monster and his victim
seen on an outstretching limb overhanging
the stream ; the coolies, who are among the
expertest swimmers in the wqrld, immedi
ately lined the banks ; the soldiers contin
ued the outcries aud throwing of missiles.
He clasped his prfoe niorc tightjy, took 0
survey of tho water, and of his upward
gazing enemies, and then leaped into the
flood below. He had hardly touched the
water ere fifty resolute swimmers
iu pursuit. As ho rises, a dozen
arms are strefehed out towards him ; he is
grasped : pfoers lay hold upon the insensi
ble girl ; orang-outang uses both arras in
self defence ; and, after luscerating the
bodies of some of tbe coolies with his pow
erful, neryops clajys, finally succeeded in
divip'g beyond foe reach of hiH pursuers
and in escaping down the stream, while
bleeding, insensible Lcduh was restored to
the arms of her father and nurse, in whose
hands she was ultimately restored to
peiousposs, health and strength once pure.
W( ><
liman
con
I
to
PftARApR,
Written/oT the MtJdldown Transcript
BY THE ODESSA BARD.
I'm a strange little creature for good or for evil,
Not a spirit of spook, hobgoblin or devil,
Or angel or seraphim, cherub or saint,
A demon to awe or magician to feint,
Yet nrr influence over these gentry is doublp,
To bring them to grief or eviscerate trouble.
Somehow, I've controlled the beginning and
ending
f föacli era and age of the world's wide-extending,
I was first in the garden with old father, Adam,
And frequently pressed either side of his Madame,
Then twice did I prove that their babes, Cain
apd Abpl,
Would the one prove a saint and the other a devil,
And the angel that flamed at the gate of their
Eden,
T first started out on his mission from Heaven,
It was I, who, with Noah, first entered the Ark,
And led his queer army about in the dark ;
I was kppjyn tp piost of the worthies of old,
The patriarchs, prophets, and warriors hold,
And I helped make the bargain when Joseph was
sold :
So down through all Jewry and David's long
line
To the Christian day, my pedigrpe
I am every whit app parcel, a jjpÿ.
a Christian, every whit am Î, too.
With such discipline do I govern the sexes,
From tho "Star in the East" to the "Lone Star
of Texas"
change them as caprice pleases or vexes ;
Let a wonirtu but know she's a specimen Nero,
My influence can make her a conquering hero.
One half of the genius supposed to be Grant's,
I found in those virtues—mpn, money, advance !
For the plan of his famous Richmond campaign,
To successful result, it was I made it plain.
I love as I hate, I am loved ns I'm hated,
And, stranger than all, I was never out-mated ;
I soar to the skies, what's the earth, but for me?
I burden the air and govern the sea,
I bring out all colors, and bosk in the sun,
Thcq reyp) pfl flight when my day's work is done.
Evepy iflpmept I'm changing my place and my
name,
Yet half of my time forever the same,
I'm the whole of each answering echo—"Why ?"
'Cause I doublo you in wit, when I try,
For instance, to prove it—instantly, I
Presto prestiges t are p)j '.'ip y
And, forgive me, dear reader, I fljpst have my
iways about when "the devil's to pay."
Odessa , Nov. 1868.
shines.
it
on
I
But if you are
I
• eye,'
I am
JJojntlar IÜhIph.
AN OLD MAN'S STOEY.
Many years ago, a temperance meeting
was held iq a certain village. A little
boy, who lived jp the village, was very
anxious to go, and persuaded his father to
take him The boy never foygot that
meeting, and he wrote the account of it
years afterward. One of the speakers at
the meeting vVas an old man. His hair
was white, and his brow furrowed with
age and sorrow. When be rose to speak,
be said :
" My friends, I am an old map, stand
ing alone at foe epd of lifo's journey.—
Tears are in my eyes and deep sorrow is
in my heart. I am without friends, or
home, or kindred on earth,
always so. Once I had a mother. With
her old heart crushed with sorrow, she
went down to her grave. I once had a
wife—a fair, angel-hearted creature as
ever smiled in an earthly home. Her
blue eyes grew dim as the floods
washed away ifo brightness, and her ten
der heart I wrung till every fibre was
broken. I once had a noble boy ; but he
was driven from the ruins of his home,
and my old heart yearns to know if lie yet
lives. I once had a babe, a sweet, lovely
babe ; but these hands destroyed it, and
now it lives with Him who loveth the lit
tle ones. Do not spurn me, my friends,
continued the old man. There is light in
iny evening sky. The spirit of my mother
rejoices over the return of her prodigal
son. The injured wife smiles upon him
who tqrns back t f> virtue and honor. The
child-angel visits pm at pightfall, and I
seem to foe! l)is tiny band upon my fever
ish cheek. My brave boy, if he yet lives,
wquld forgive the sorrowing old man for
treatment that drove him out into tho
world, and the blow that maimed him for
life. God forgive me for foe ypip |[ have
brought pbopt ige.
"I was a drunkard.
respectability, I plunged iuto poverty and
shame. I dragged my family down with
me. For years I saw the ohoek of my
wife grow pale, and her step jgroiy
I left her alone to struggle for foe
ren, while I was drinking and rioting ut
the tavern. She never complained, though
she apd foe children pitep wept hungry
to bed."
" One New Year's night, I returned
)afo to foe hpt jyfieve charity had given us
shelter. My wife was still up, aud shiv
ering over the coals. I demanded food.
She to}d ipe there wap none, and burst ipto
tears, I fiercely ordered her to get some.
Slie turned her eyep sadly upon me, the
tears falling fast over her pale check. At
this moment the child in the cradle awoke,
aud uttered a or y of hppger, startling
despairing mother apd making pew
row ip her breaking heart.
•f We baye po food, James; iye ^ave
Ijad none for peyernl days. ï paye noth
ipg for the babe. 0 ! my onoe kind hus
band must lye starve ?
*.* Tpat s,ad pleading face, and those
streamipg eyep, end teette wail of the
child, maddened me ; and I—-yes I struck
het a fjerce bjow ip per face, and she fell
forward upon the hearth. Jt seenied as if
the furies of hell were raging jn pi y
sqip, and the feeling of the wrong I
committed affded fuel to the flames. I
had never struck piy wife before, but now
some terrible impulse drove pie op! apd I
stooped dowp as w e !l S? f could ip my
drunken state, and clenched both of my
hands in her hair.
For mercy's sake James! exclaimed p)y
wife, as she looked up iuto my fiendish
eouptenapec, " yop will not kill us ? You
It was not
of sorrow
iu
to
of
ed
in
of
be
ed
of
ty
From wealth aud
weary.
child
the
sor
bo
bad
II
□
will not harm Willie?" And she sprang
to tho cradle and grasped him in her arms.
I caught her again by the hair and drag
ged her to the door and as I lifted the latch
the wind burst in with a cloud of snow.
With a fiendish yell I still dragged her on
and hurled her out amid the darkness and
storm. Then, with a wild laugh, I closed
the door and fastened it. Her pleading
moans and the sharp cry of her babe
mingled with the wail of the blast. But
any horrible work was not complete,
" I turned to tho bed where my eldest
son was lying, »patched him from his
slumbers, and, against his his hulf-awak;
ened struggles, opened the door and thrust
him out. In the agony of fear he uttered
that sacred name I wqg no longer worthy
to bear. He called me— father! and
locked his fingers in my side pocket. I
f rasp away
end, I shut
could not wrench that
with the cruelty of a
door upon his arm, and, seizing my knife,
severed It at tlie wrist.
; but
the
It was morning when I awoke, and tho
storm had ceased. I looked round to
the accustomed place for my wife. As I
missed her, a dim, dark scene, as of some
horrible nightmare, came over me.« I
thought it must be a fearful dream, but
involuntarily opened tbe door with a shud
dering dread. As the door opened, the
snow burst in, and something fell across
the threshold with adult, and heavy sound.
My blood shot through my veins, and I
covered my eyes to shut out the sight. It
was—0 God ! how terrible, if was my
own loving wife and her babe frozen to
death ! With true mother's love, she bad
bowed herself over the child to slijeld it,
and wrapped all her clothing around it,
leaving her own person exposed to the
storm. She had placed her Lair over the
face of the child, and the sleet had frozen
it to the pale check. The frost was white
on the lids of its half-opened eyes, and
upon its tiny fingers.
' ' I never knew what beoame of my
brave boy."
Here the old man bowed his head, and
wept; and all in the house wept with him.
Then in tonetf of heartforokep sorrow, he
continued ;
" I was arrested, and for long months I
was a raving maniac. When I recovered,
I was sentenced to the penitentiary for
ten years, but that was notliiug to the tor
tures I have endured in my own bosom.
And now I desire to spend the little rem
nant of my life ip striving tq warp others
not to entßp a pail) )ybfoh haß beep so
dark and fearful to me.
When tho old man had finished, the
temperance pledge was prodpped, and he
asked the people to pqp )0 forward and
sign it. The eon of the aged speaker re
ferred to leaped from bis seat, and pressed
forward to sign the pledge. As he took
the pen in bapd, lie {jesifpfod a moment.
" Sign it, young man, sign it," said
the venerable speaker. * ' Angelg would
sign it. I would'write my name in blood,
ten thousand times, if it would undo the
ruin I have wrought, and bring back my
loved and lost ones."
The young man wrote, " Mortimer
Hudson." The old man looked. He
Wiped hjs eyes, apd Jooked again. His
face flushed with fiery red, and tliep a
death like paleness came over it.
" It is—no, it cannot be, yet how very
strange!" ho muttered. "Pardon me,
sir, but that was the name of my brave
boy."
■The young man trembled, and held up
his left arm, from which the baud had
been severed.
'1'bey Jqojked, for a ipopiopt, in each
other's eyes, aud foe old man excfoinmd :
" My own injured boy !"
The young man cried out—
" My poor, dear fatbor!"
Then they fell upon each other's neck
and wept tears of penitence and forgive
ness together.
A Hundx-eil Vr.rs In Prlaon.
A certain house breaker was condemned
iu the latter part of the last century in
France, and under peculiar circumstances,
to a 100 years in the galley,
relate, this man made his a
his own native province at t
age of 120 years, he being about 20 years
of age when tho sentence which oondemned
him to such a dreadful punishment was
passed. It is djflfoufo fo conpeive what the
feeling must have been with which he re
turned, as soon as emancipated from the
shackles which had enthralled him for a
century, to breathe once more the cherish
ed air of the sceucs of his infancy. Bourg,
in the department of Ain, syua fos pative
home, but time had so changed foe place
that he recognized it only by the church
of Bron, whioh was tbe only thing which
hnd undergone no alteration. He had tri
umphed over laws, bondage, man, time,
everything. Not a relation bad lie left,
pot a sjpgle being could he hail in acquaint
ance, yet he was not without experiencing
the homage apd respect the French pay fo
old age. For bim elf, be foul forgotten
everything connected with his early youth ;
even alj recoUeotiop qf the crime for which
be had suffered was lost, or, if at all re
membered It was a dreary vis»io» confound
ed wifo a thousand qthe) dreary visions of
days gone by.
His family and cqnneptions for several
generations all dead, himself a living proof
of the clemency qf Heaven and tho severi
ty of man, regretting, perhaps, foe very
irons which had been familiar to biro, and
half wishing himself again among tho
wretched and suffering beings wifo whom
his fate had been so long associated—well
ight he be called tbe patriarch of bur
glars.
and sfrange to
ppearnnee in
lie advanced
II
t®it and Jumor.
Uncle Bun was a queer old man, £
queer old man was he ; 'he owned a ppp],
a butting rani—in fact, his butting pro
pensitioH prompted him to butt everything
he could see. Uncle Ben had a fat old
spouse, a fat old wife was she, who used tq
feed aud pai} flps co\jrs that cams sq rqg:
qjqr iptq Mje (awn every night' and stop
ped under a large pear-tree. That fat
old wife ne'er used a stool to milk, would
ne'er sit down ; and though old Ben called
her a fool, yqk stye yoqld never J}eap]gpfy
to his advice ; but to refiiprooate the favor,
she said he was a clown. But one saa
morning, as Brindle stood beneath tliq
stately pear-treo, old Ben's wife in a mer T
ry mood, was milking her, occupying her
usual position—a little elevated in the air.
The ram and Ben the fact espied, and
loudly Bei) did jfooitt, " &tm$f f?AW(i |
squat dogiq !" !(e sternly cried. Bl)t Sflf?
didn't hoar him, and before lie could in r
terfore, the ram bad turned bis fat old
wife inside out. Now, Upcjp Rep waß
very wrntli, ah! very iyràtl, ivaç he; )je
took the grindstone from its trough, and
tying a rope to it, hung it up on a limb of
foe old pear tree. Then, like a heavy
pendulum, he swung tbpt mighty rock,
which seemed to say, " i in up to fop, Up.
Rain, so just " come in" and take an afo
feotionute knock." Right briskly, then
the fight begun ; the stone would not give
in, and Ren's old ram would yield tq
none ; so he bntted ajl day, apd jyhep
Uncle Ben went to be4 f) e 1W hpttipg
like alt sin.—-But pfoen eld Bep »fpjjp
next day ppd wept jpto the lawn, the
rain had butted himself away, and every;
thing under heaven, but abopt two jnohe»
of bis tail, was used up—completely gqpe,
A lady inquires whether we think an
action for a breach of promise of marriage
can be sustained against the writer of the
following verse :
"Angel liepeat!) whose folded wi»g
My soul would rest,
Be mine, for lo I I've bought the ring,
And nil the rest
Of those house treasures and gfopleraÿ,
Which every one who tries fits slate la
better has!"
A boy was sent by his mofoey fj) saw
some stove wood out of rni|road fies. —
Going ouf doofa shortjy gftef, s!;e fopnd
the youth sitting on the saw horse, wifo
hiß heutj down. The mother asked her
hopeful son why kc was cast dojjrn arnj
why he didn't' keep at l)is wqr)t. 'j'be
boy replied tbup : 'f Sly jjpar fpotber, I
find if hard, yery hard, fo sever pj.d fie».''
-»
A rather fast youth was relating foe ex
perience of his voyage across the ocean to
sympathising friend. Said be, ." jl'tejl
you what old fellow, there's one good
thing tfooiR it. though. Yop can get as
tight as you please eycyy dpy, apd eyery
body thiuks you're ouly scaifok J"
" Have you ground all the tools right,
as I told you this morping when f went
away?" said a carpenter, to a rather
green lad whom lie had takop foy pp an
prenticc. !• M foft Ml« iwd.-.W. »ffo
replied tl;o lad, nppmntly ; Iff pqg|dp'$
get all the gaps out of that."
A fellow in an oblivious state took pp
his lodgings on the side walk. He woke
next morning and straightened himsejf
up, looked on the grqupa on which fo)
had made his copch, and said: " Well, i^
had a pick axe I wqpld make up iny
bed !"
A young " buok" now-a-days, is cp r
riously compounded ; he has a beaver on
his head, a goat-ee on his chin, kids op
his bunds, calves on his legs, (and do<
skin also.) casts sheep's eye», apd jts louk r
ed upon by his doe-ting dfojf as doer at
any price.
An invalid disturbed nil the inmates of
his boarding house up town, recently by
ifotfog a dog. Whan askej why he
1 it, he said he hud bee); ordered by hi»
physician to take port win» and hark,
- ~f - rr
A lady advertises for sale one baboon,
three tabby cuts aud a parrot. She states
that, being now married, she has no fur
ther use for them, because foefo Afofohfo
qualities are all pqiqbfoed in her husband.
1111
did
Two rival belles met at a bo
well you look under candle
claimed ope, yrifo » stpe»» pp foe cppdlc«.
" how charming yog are in foo
dark !" answered the other.
A tipsy loafer mistook a globe-lamp wifo
letters on it for the queen of night.
"Well," said he, "if somebody ain't stuck
ap .adyertjpepiept pp fop p)oop>
What is the difference between Noah'»
Ark mid Joan of Arc? Ope was made
of wood—the other was Maid of Orleans.
--—■ ■ .
Fanny Fern objects to men shedding
tears ; says it is an infringement on wor
man's most valuable "water privileges "
- m --—
Who is the laziest man? The furniture
dealer, becapsc he keeps ebairs and spiaa
and loupges about all tbe time.
Hqpr
!" e*.
ligbt !
Carpets are bought by the yard amf
worn by the foot.
What is the greatest bet ever made ?
The alpha-bet.