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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c.
Vol. XI. WEDNESDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 22, 1875. No. 38. THE HERALD IS PUBLISRED EVERY WEDNESDAY 1ORNING, At Newberry, S. C. BY THOt F. GRENEKER, Editor and ProprlietOr. Terss, $9. per .sssemS Invarably i Advance. t The Is tU i at the expirtiCQ of time for w It is P. By The N mark denotes expiration of mb *.efrg. PRAYER A LA MODE. Give me an eye to others' failings blind (Miss Smith's new bonnet's quite a frght be bind 1) Wake in me charity for the suffering poor (There comes that contribution-plate once amr1) Take from my soul all feelings covetoUS (I' have a bawl like that or make a fuss!) Let love for all my kind my spirit stir (Save Mr Jones! 111never speak to her!) Let me in Truth's fair pages take delight (I'11 read that other novel through to night!) Make me contented with my earthly state (I wishrd married rich, but it's too late!) Give me a heart of fiuth in afl my kind (Miss Brown's as big a hypocrite as you'll ind!) Help me to see myself as others see (This dress is quite becoming Unto me!) Let-me act out no falsehood, I appeal (Wonder if they think these curls are real!) Make my heart of humility the fount (How glad I am our pew's so near front!) Fil me with patience and strength to wait (I know he'n preach until our dinner's lat!) Take from my heart each grain of self-con eit (I'm sure the gentleman must think me sweet!) Lot saintly wisdoma be my daily food (I wEonder what they'll have for dinner .good!) Let not my feet ache in the road to light (Nobody knows how these shoes pinch and . bitsl. In this world teach me to deserve the next (Church out! Charles, do you recollect the text!) * AZ DRISE STORY. It was a little after midnight that,a knock came to the door of our cabin. I heard it first, for I used to sleep in a little snug basket p-near the fire ; but I didn't speak, for I was frightened. ~It was re peated still louder, and then came a cry: "Con Cregan ! Con, I say, open the door! I want you." .1 knew the voice well ; it was Peter McCabe's ; but I pretended to be fast asleep, and snored loud ly. At last my father unbolted tedoor, and I heard him say : "O, Mr. Peter, what's the mat ter? Is the ould man worse ?" "Faix that's what he is, for he's dead," replied Peter. "Glory be his bed ! When did it happen ?" "About an hour ago," said Peter, in a voice that even I, from my corner, could perceive greatly ag itated. "He died like an ould hea then, Con, and never made a will:' "That's bad," says my father, for he was always a polite man, and said whatever was pleasing to the company. "It is bad," said Peter ; "but it would be worse if he couldn't help it. Listen to me now, Cor ney ; I want ye to help me in this business; and here are five guineas in gold if ye do what I bid ye. You know that ye were always reckoned the very image of my father, and before he took ill ye were mistaken for each other ev ery day of the week." "Anan !" said my father, for he was getting frightened at the notion, without well knowing why. "Well, what I want is for ye to come over into the house, and get into the bed." "Not beside the corpse ?" said my father, trembling. "By no means, but by yourself; and you're to pretend to be my father, and that ye want to make yer will before ye die ; and then I'll send for the neighbors, and Billy Scanlan, the schoolmaster, and ye'll tell him what to write, leaving all the farm and every thing to me, ye un derstand. And as the n.eighbors will see ye and hear yer voice, it will nev er be believed but it was himself that did it." "And the priest?" said my fa ther. "My father quarreled with him last week about the Easter dues; and Father Tom said he'd not give him the rites; and that's lucky now! Come along now, quick, for we've no time to lose; it must all be finished before the day breaks." "All right," was the reply. My father did not lQse much time at his toilet, for he just wrap ped his big coat around him, and slipping on the brogues, he left the house. I sat up in the basket, and listened till they were gone some minutes; and then, in a cos tume as light as my parent's set out after them to watch the course of the adventure. I thought to take a short cut, and be there be fore them, but by bad luck I fell in to a bog hole, and only escaped drowning bya chance. As it was, v hen I reached the house, the per formance had already began. I think I see the whole scene this instant before my eyes, as I sat on a little window with one pane, and that a broken one, and surveyed the proceeding. It was a large room, at one end of which was a bed, and beside it was a ta ble with physic bottles, and spoons, and teacups; a little further off was another table, at which sat Billy Scanlan, with all manner of writing materials before him. The country people sat two and some times three deep round the walls, all intently eager and anxious for the coming event; Peter himself went from pl a e e to place, trying to smother h i s grief, and occasionally helping the company to whisky; which was supplied with more than ac. customed liberality. All my consciousness of the de ceit and trickery could not deprive the scene of a certain solemnity. The misty distance of the half lighted room; the highly wrought expression of the country people's faces, never more intensly excited than at some moment of this kind; the low, deep-drawn breath ings, unbroken save by a sigh o: a sob; the tribute of affectionate sorrow to some lost friend, whose memory was thus forcibly brought back-these were all so real, that, as I looked, a thrilling sense of awe stole over me, and I actually shook with fear. A low, faint cough from the dark corner where the bed stood seem ed to cause even a deeper stillness; and then, in a silence where the buzzing of a fly would have been heard, my father said : "Where's Billy Scanlan ? I want to make my will !" "He's here, father," said Peter, taking Billy by the hand, and lead ing him to the bedside. "Write what I bid ye, Billy, and be quick; for I haven't a long time 'afore me here. I die a good Catholic, though Father O'Raffer ty won't give me the rites !" A general chorus of muttered, "Oh! musha, musha!" was now heard through the room; but, whether in grief over the sad fate of the dying man, or the uniflinch. ing severity of the priest is hard to say. "I die in peace with all my neighbors and all mankind." Another chorus of the company seemed to approve these char itable expressions. "I bequeath unto my son Peter -and there never was a better son or a decenter boy !-I[ bequeath unto my son Peter the whole of my two farms of Killimundoonery and Knocksheboora, with the fal low meadows behind Lynch's house; the forge and right of turf on the Dooran bog. I give him and much good may it do him Lanty Cassarn's acre, and the Leary field with the lime-kiln; and that reminds me that my mouth is just as dry. Let me taste what ye have in the jag." Here the dying man took a very hearty pull, and seemed con siderably refreshed by it. "Where was I, Billy Scanlan ?" says he; "oh; I remember ; at the lime-kiln. I leave him-that's Pe ter I mean-the two potato gar Idens at :Noonan's Well ; and it is Ithe elegant fine crops grows Ithere." "Ai;n't on getting wake father, darlin'" says Peter who began to be afraid of my father's loquacious ness; for to say the truth, the punch got into his head, and he was greatly disposed to talk. "I am, Peter my son," says he; "I am getting wake; just touch my lips again with the jug. Ah! Peter, Peter, you watered the drink." "No indeed, father, but it's the taste is lavin' you," said Peter, and again a chorus of compassionate pity murmured through the wide cabin. "Well, I'm nearly done now," says my father. "There's only one little spot of ground remain ing, and I put it on you, Peter-as ye wish to live a good man, and die with the same easy heart as I do now-that ye mind my last words to ye here. Are ye listen ing? Are the neighbors listening? Is Billy Scanlan listening ?" "Yes, sir; yes father we're all minding," chorused the audience. "Well, then, it's my last will and testament, and may-give me over the jug"-here he took a long drink-"and may that blessed li quor be poison to me if I'm not as eager about this as every other part of the will; I say, then, I bequeath the little plot at the cross-roads to poor Con Cregan, for he has a heavy charge, and is as honest and hard working a man as ever I knew. Be a friend to him, Peter, dear, never let him want while ye have it yourself -think of me on my death-bed whenever he asks ye for any trifle. Is it down Billy Scanlan? the two acres at the cross to Con Cre gan and his heirs forever. Ah, blessed be the saints! But I feel my heart grows lighter after that," says he, "a good work makes an easy conscience. And now I'll drink all the company's good health, and m a n y happy re turns-" What he was going to add, there's no saying; but Peter, who was now terribly frightened at the lively tone the sick man was assuming, hurried all the peo ple into another room to let his father die in peace. When they were all gone, Peter slipped back to my father,who was putting on his brogues in a corner. "Con," says he, "ye did it all well; but sure that was a joke about the two acres at the cross." "Of course it was, Peter !" says he ; "sure it was all a joke, for the matter of that; won't I make the neighbors laugh hearty to-morrow when I tell them all about it?" "What!" exclaimed Peter in amazement. "Tell 'em all about it ?" "Faith and why shouldn't I ?" returned my father dryly. "You wouldn't be mean enough to betray me?" says Peter trem bling with fright. "Sure, ye wouldn't be mean enough to go against your father's dying words !" says my father ; "the last sentence ever he spoke ;" and here he gave a low, wicked laugh that made myself shake with fear. "Very well, Con I" says Peter, holding out his hand ; "a bargain's a bargain; yer a deep fellow, that's all." Father only chuckled a little at this ; but said nothing. And so it ended, and my father slipped quietly away over the bog, mighty well satisfied with the lega cy he loft himself. And thus we became the owners of the little spot known to this day as Con's Acre. * Now, young man, listen while we tell you how to pop the ques tion. Get your june bug well corner ed where no one can overhear you and then poke this conundrum at her: When will there be only 25 let ters in the alphabet? Answer-When you and I are one. After that it is plain sailing. Our charge for this is a box of ci gars in each case of successful ap plication-the charge to be and remain a debt of honor until sat isfied and discharged. Let the hopes of mercy encour age you to the exercise of repen tance. ~iseeUann. CLASSES ACTUALLY NEG LECTED! BY REV. E. P. ROGERS, D. D. We beg leave to ask, "Who are the neglected classes in o u r city ?" The answer will perhaps be "They are the poor, the ignorant the degraded, the vicious;" whc crowd tenement houses, burrow in cellars, herd in quarters where filth and squalor reigri: where honest industry and sobriety are strangers and the decent and vir tuous are rarely seen. Tbe neglec ted classes are said to be those who beg in the public streets, or live by petty thieving, who patron ize our lowest dram shops, and figure most extensively in our police records. "These," say a thousand voices, "these are the neglected classes." With all due deference, we beg leave to dissent from this state ment. We do not deny the exis tence, we do not extenuate the vices, we do not depreciate the misery of these classes. Neither do we question at all our obliga. tion to provide for their temporal and spiritual improvement. But we deny that these are par excellence, "the neglected classes." They are not neglected. Very many agen. cies are always at work in their be half. A great army of institutions, of laborers, and of givers, make them their special care. Our so cieties for the relief of the poor our Children's Aid Societies, our Homes for Little Wanderers, oui Five Points Missions, our Juvenile Asylums, and Homes for the Friendless; our Dispensaries and Nurseries, and Hospitals; our free schools and colleges, are only a few of the agencies sustained, or a scale of great liberality, for the temporal benefit of just these classes, while a great deal is done for their spiritual benefit. In ad dition to our public institutions such as the city Mission and tracl Society, with its free places o: worship and its devoted male anc female missionaries w h o givE their entire time to labors foi these classes ; every church hat its mission chapel and schools, iti Bible reader and visitor, its bands of teachers and'workers, who free ly give their best time and much of their money, their sympathies and their prayers, for the relig ious teachings and training oi these same classes. If all tbe timE that is spent for them, if all th< money that is given,if all the zea that is expended,and if all the worl and prayer that are consecrate< to the best interests of this class could be fully summed up, and ac curately estimated, it would be most astonishing exhibit, an< would confirm and illustrate thi position which we take, that thE poor are not "the neglected cla ss.' Who, then, are they ? Wher< shall we find them ? We shall fin< them on our fashionable avenues and our most respectable streete We shall find them in brown stoni dwellings, in first class boarding houses, and in palatial hotels. Many of them ride in luxuriou carriages, are "clothed in purpli and fine linen and fare sumptuousla every day." Many of them havE ample credit at stores and banks and are well known at Saratogs and Newport, in London and il Paris. None of them are poor all of them are what is called res petable; all of them have comfortable share of the goo< things of this life. They fre quent the Park, they patronizi the theatre, they are at homn' at the opera, they give handsom< entertainments to their friends they are looked up to with env: by multitudes who regard them a the highest and happiest class. But these are the neglected classes They are farther removed, prac tically, from the'influences of Chris tianity than the poor and th vicious. Multitudes of them havy no connection with the Christial church, either as communicants pwholders, or even as habitua worshippers. Multitudes of ther do not number a Christian pasto amng thnir acnqua*mtances. Man; of them rarely enter a church, ex cept at a wedding or a funeral. Their children go to no Sunday school, and never receive anj religious teaching at home. Tb subject of their soul's salvation; their peroonal accountability tc God ; their need of some adequate preparation for death and eterni ty; all thesegreatsolemn realitieZ are as far removed from thoir sphere of thought and experience: as if they lived in a heathen land. No Christian qpastor visit: their dwelling, no Christian friend speaks to them about Jesus ; nc religious volume or journal invitec their perusal; the missionary and Bible reader pass their door or their way to the tenement house, but never enter; no man seemE to care for their souls ; and thesc respectable, wealthy, fasbionable families, in the midst of this Chris, tian metropolis, by scores, are liv. ing "without hope, and withoni God in the world !" Here then is the really and sad ly "neglected class." No class it so neglected as they. And it is s large one io this city, and growing larger every day. What a wast< is here, how much mind, ho much position, how much in fluence on society, how muct wealth, is massed here, uncon secrated to God, lost to Christ and His cause! How much is lav ished on the world, the flesh and the Devil ? Has the Church, hav Christians, have God's ministers no duties or obligations to thii neglected class ? Perhaps ever3 family in our congregations is ac quainted with one or more house holds.who belong to this class We appeal to them to considei whether, without infringing upoi any of the proprietres of life, with out transgressing any rule of good breeding they m%y not do somq true Christian work in this diree tion. We appeal to our Christiat men, who are thrown into associa tions of business,or art,or social life witb men of this class to seek ou ways of approaching them on thi subject of their religious welfare And we appeal to our Christian la dies who meet such families in sc ciety, or at summer resorts, or any where else, to do the same thing Here is a field too long, too sadl; neglected, which may generousl; repay a faithful judicious Christial cultivation. And have Christian mioister no duty to this class ? They d not come to us; ougbt we not t go to them ? We may thinki indelicate, or undignified, and may shrink from it. But havy we no duties to the neglected fan ilies who live all around oa churches, and yet seem to be liv ing in practical heathenism ? Respected and honored bretli ren ! Let us think less of dignit; and propriety in this directioi and more of the precious immorts souls who are living without Go and dying without hope, unde the very shadow of the temple where we minister. [New York Observer. SCOTT's PART OF THE STORY. Bret Harte tells the story of tw California miners, Y o r k an Scott, who, after having been par nors for a long time, quarrelled and became deadly enemies. Thei feud was the amusement of th whole settlement where they lived and when, finally, they ran a rival candidates for Legislature everybody turned out to hea them speak against each other York began, and unfolded Scott .disgraceful career, no less to th astonishment than the amusemen of the audience, who had not ha the privilege of knowing their fel low citizen as intimately as th speaker. When he got througi it was Scott's turn. "There naught, gentlemen," said he "there's naught as that man he said as isn't true. I was run oute Cairo ; I did belong to the Regi lators; I did desert from the arm~ I did leave a wife in Kansas. Bu there's one thing he didn't charg me with, and maybe he's foi-gotter For three years gentlemen, I wa that man's pardner." A burst c applause, according to Mr. Hart artistically rounded and enforce 'this climax, and virtually electe A BOSTON LADY'S EXPERI ENCE. SHE TELLS THE STORY OP HER TRIP TO THE COUNTRY-ALONE ALL NIGHT. Mrs. A., who resides in one of the fine mansions of Boston, liked the reading of one of those adver tisements that appear daily in the papers, which told of a lovely spot which was "just the place to spend a few weeks in summer," so she corresponded at once with the par ties, and made arrangements to go up and board with them, but forgot to add when she would be there. One morning she left Bos ton on the first train, after receiv ing a promise from her husband that he would soon join her. About two in the afternoon she reached as she thought, her place of destination, but upon inquiry found that there were five hours ride by stage in store for her. This announcement quite nettled her, as in giving directions this fact had not been mentioned, but she engaged passage on the stage, which proved to be a two seated wagon, on which she started off alone, with one of those good na tured though rough _stage drivers !often found in the country, who know everybody's business, talk to their passengers as though they were old acquaintances, and- per sist in asking questions until they have learned their names, where they are from, where they are r going, and how long they intend to stay. He at once entered into conversation with Mrs. A., in the usual style, and when he learned where she was going and for what purpose, he gave a low whistle and said, "wal, I guess I can reckon on you for a passage back to-morrow." When she questio ned her informant as to what he knew of the place and people, he said : "Oh, they are good enough,1.spose. but it is the lonesomest place you ever saw." She was feeling very homesick when they drove up to a large farm house,a desolate looking -place, with no paint on the build ings, not a blind on the bouse, half of the windows were without cur tains, and there was not a tree or shrub or flow er to he seen in the rlittle field that inclosed this Sdreary habitation. It was bard work .to keep back the tears, while she begged the driver not to leave her there but he said: S"Why, dear woman, to stop here tis the only thing you can do, for there is not a hotel within ten miles ;" so with a heavy heart she alighted, tired and hungry, and r the driver rapped away on the front door with his whip, but re ceived no response, so they wvent -around to the back door, and there Yencountered a -man with a pail full of milk in each hand. Upon beingr informed who the newcomer Swas, the farmer said: ''Wal, now, rthat's tu bad ! We didn't think Syou'd come so soon, and my old woman has gone away ; bat nev er mind, she'll be here in the morn ing." Before the driver left the - lady spoke low, and charged him o not to forget her on the morrow, d for she would return with him. -When left alone with the farmer, , he invited her into the house and r showed her supperless to her e room; but what a room it was , no carpet on tho floor, no paper s on the walls, not a lock on one of ' the doors. As soon as she was r left alone she threw herself on the .bed and cried sherself to sleep. s When she rose the next morning, e she saw a female gliding about t the house, and upon inquiry learn i ed to her horror that she had been - left alone in that great house all e night while the host drove twenty E1 miles away after his "old woman." s Soon after the stage came rattling ,along, and despite the urgent en z treaties of the homespun couple, r Mrs.A.jumped aboard,and she now - declares that it was the happiest ; moment of her life when she was t once more seated behind the good e natured stage driver. s The Hon. R. M. T. Hunter, f State Treasurer of Virginia, re , ceives a salary of $2,000, of which I he reserves a very small amount d for his own use, devoting the hal ance to his creditors. TAKING THE CENSUS. Census taking isn't the pleasant est business that a hard-up young man with a moderate education, can go into. It is in progress here, just row, on a pretty large scale. One of the census men went into a tenement house in Mulberry street the other day and bad a large assortment of experi ence. He began in the basement, occupied by a heathen Chinee, and spentforty-five minutes in eliciting: "Me no takes Melican; me washee; me washee good; you bet." it wasn't exactly the information called for by the schedule, but he made the best of it, and knocked at the first door up stairs. It was opened by a sturdy Ger man lady, who eyed. him angrily, and said: "We don't got small box; go owit," and when. he start ed the regular questions at her, she jammed him up with the door, repeating every time he groaned, "we don't got no small box, aint it owit." He finally made her understand that he wasn't a vaccinater from the Health Board, and succeeded in getting the ne cessary points for his census list. On the next floor he encounter ed a venerable Scotchman. who was very courteous, but couldn't hear a word. and who answered every question with "Bide a wee, mon," or "I dinna kin." Pretty much every nationality represen ted in New York was met in turn as the census man made his way to the top floor-English, French, Italian besides those already indi cated-and at last he got up an in terview with a muscular Hiber nian female,presiding over a wash tub. "The cinsus, is it?" was her re sponse to his first observation; "an' what the devil is ver old cin sus to me ?" "Can't help that, mum, must get your name and age and all about your family; we'll begin with your name.". "Arrah, will ye, no? Och, then, fire away." "But you mus~t give me your name." "Troth'n, I won't. Me name is a dacent one, but the sor ra one o' me'll give it to any spal peen like you this blessed day." ''Come, come, ma'am, this won't do ; if you don't answer my ques. tions I'll have to call an officer." "An officer, is it ? an officer for a dacent woman like me ? Tom, Torn, come out here widyer; here's a dhirty blaggard threaten in' the p'liece on me." Tom, a brawny fellow, about six feet two; came out with a fire shovel, and the census man went down stairs to keep an engage. ment. A bout a gallon of soap suds sprinkled him on the next landing, and he heard a celtic voice say. "Come back wid yer cinsus now, me man. Cinsus, indeed! Comin' to a dacent woman to ax yer imp'dent questions. What the divil is yer old cinsus to the likes of us ?"-N. Y. .Letter to Mobile Register. A PioUs AND PRUDENT LADY. A foreign correspondent says|: The English Admiral W-is a man of advanced age, and the forth husband of a . lady known for eccentric piety. 1 had been told that she was in the habit of speaking in the, presence of her husband of his approaching and inevitable end, and once I attribu ted much of this to my informant's imagination. But the other day I had in my own hands and read with my own eyes, the following note written by the lady in ques tion V o her wine merchant: "Please send up six bottles of sherry, six bottles of magon and six bot.les of old Scotch whiskey, but if anything should occur in the meantime will you change the whiskey for magon ? for when the admiral is in heaven what should I do with the whiskey?" Signed by her ladyship in full, and she richly deserves that I should give her name to the public. The compositor who substituted an "in" for "w" in speaking of a lady troubled with "swelling of the feet," accomplished the worst ty pnapnhical feat on record.' ADVERTISINC RATES. Advertisements inserted at the rate of $1.00 per square-one inch-for first insertion, and 75c. for each subsequent insertion, Donbsle column advertisements tenper cent on aboie. Notices of meetings, obituaries and tribut es of respect, same rates per square as ordinary advertisements. Special notices in local column 15 cents per line, Advertisements not marked with the nuni ber of insertions will be kept in till forbid and charged accordingly. Special contracts made with large adver tisers, with liberal deductions on above rates. Jo PaIJerza Done with Neatness and Dispatch. Terms Cash. An experiment made in Herr Krupp's artillery grounds at Dul men in Prussia, seems to threaten the future of cuirassed vessels. Hitherto, it is well known, the so lidity of the cuirass has pretty well kept pace with the calibre of the ordinance destined to do the woik of destruction. By a fe licitous idea, ho wever, the force of the cannon has now been quadra pled. The invention, if so it may be called, consists in directing four guns toward the same spot, and firing them simu'taneously by electric ignition. To test this new method a target was constructed by Herr Krupp consisting of two 10-inch plates, a wooden layer 200 milimetres thick, two 6-inch plates, and another layer of wood 200 milimetres thick, the whole lined by an iron layer 1i-inch thick. At a distance of 200 meters from this target were placed four 26-centi meter cannon, the calibre of which may be imagined from the fact that each requires 42 kilos. of prismatic powder. The first sim ultaneous discharge of the four guns, which were loaded with long cubic grenades, tore away large pieces of the iron plates, and so shook the target as essentially. to diminish its resisting power. Other discharges seem to have had an even more destructive ef fect. As the power of the German breech-loading gun is greatest at 400 meters, at which distance the naval engagements of the future are likely to open, the Dulmen. experiment is supposed by some to ' have decided the long-pending controversy of cannon v e r s u s cuirass.-N. Y. Sun. A MINE oF SwEETNESs.-Gener ally when we hear of rich strikes it is in the gold or silver line, but this time it turns out to be honey pure and sweat. A few days since, as the workmen on-the tun nel at Cajon Pass were hauling over some rocks they came across a deposit of honey, and taking a pole and running it into the moun tain were surprised to find no bot tom. They got a long pole, some twenty feet in length, and were unable to touch bottom with that. Uphon withdrawing the pole the honey began to run out, and soon tubs,buckets, and two barrels were filled, and still it flowed. Some parties came in town and loaded up with barrels, and propose to make a business of it. They put in a charge of powder and blew off a portion of the rock, which disclosed tons upon tons of honey. Our informant states that after exploring it from below Lo where the bees were fgund to enter, it was found to be about one-fourth of a mile,and it is his opinion that the whole cavity is filled with honey. He estimates over 100 tons in sight, and believes that 1,000 tons would not be an unfair estimate. This immense deposit cannot be equalled by any ever found. Ac cording to the above estimate it wvould take every barrel and hogs head in San Bernardino to hold it. [San Bernardino Argus. ANECDOTES OF NAPOLEON III. Successful men even though their succesc has been brief, and less no ble than brilliant, have generally been those who have followed on purpose, and stuck to it through all fortunes. In 1837 adinner party was given in New York city, at Chancellor Kent's. Some of the most distin guished men of the city sat down at the table. Among them was a young and rathr melancholy and taciturn Frenchman. "In the course of the evening," says Professor Morse, who was one of the guests; "I drew the at tention of Mr. Gallatin to the stranger, observing that his .fore head indicated great intellect." "Yes," replied Mr. Gallatin, touching his own forehead with his finger, "there is a great deal in that head of his; but he has a strange fancy. Can you believe it? he has the idea that he will one day be the Emperor of the French. Can yon conceive of any thing so absurd? t that idea ersistently