Painesville journal. [volume], December 02, 1871, Image 1

About Painesville journal. [volume] (Painesville, Ohio) 1871-1872

Image provided by: Ohio History Connection, Columbus, OH

                
TEE PHILS mm
JAMES E.' CHAMBERS, Editor
FUtllBBEVEBT SATlBBAt
AT PAIXESVILLE, LAKE COUNTY,
OHIO.
tWCounting Boom and Publication Office
Stockteell Hou6 Block, So. Ill Jfain St.
TERMS;
Yearly, by maiTor iJarricr.............42.W
Six Months, by mail or Carrier......... 1,35
Three Months, bv mail or Carrier. 75
ftt" Xtttirv In nUramea Mvamm Payment
it required.
JOB DEPARTMENT.
Book am! Blank Work, 'Circulars, Letter
Heads, Bill Head., Card and every dc'-n.pt ion
of Job Work, executed with dispatch and in the
neatest stvle of the art.
Having an entire uew outfit or Types, rresses,
and Machinery, together with a force of compe
tent and skilfull workmen, we feel that onr fa
cilities are second to those of no other establish
ment in the place.
Wnere do they dwell f
Seath crasty monads,
lilies, and yellow-caps of JRrLt,,lL
r gray -grown wall, where in wUd tortuous
by daisies.
J. in
Sear
Old clustering try wreaths in many a fold;
Where In red Summer noons
Fresh leaves -are rustliua;. . i
Where 'neath large Autumn moons .,
Young bird are nestling .. .
d5 they dwell there? ;
Where do they dwell? In sullen waters, lyln'f
On beds of purple sea-flower newly sprung:
Where the mid whirlpool's wild and ceaseless
Freulopms banks, by dark green reeds o'er-
bUDhere by the torrent's swell, '
Crvstal stones glitter, .
While ounU the heavy bell
, Over the river , .-. .
, iL... do they dwell there? . ; '-.. x -
ABU(DrnnJiViuurBii ...,, - -
They have a home nor dark, aor far away
Their proper home wttala our .faithful heart.
There happy spirits wed, -., .
Loing for ever - - '
There dwell witb-u.the dead, ,
Farting All, new ' '
There do they dwelll
- THE H110OK.. '
, PSE80OTT.
"O I am tired!" said the brook complaining,
"I fain would stop a liltte while to rest;
The clouds would weary were they always rain-
The'b&Lif she forever built her nest!
The stars' withdraw from heaven amteease their,
saining-,- ;
The sun, himself, drops down into the west.
I fain would stop,'' the brook kept on repining.
"And catch my breath, and be aa instant,
blessed. . n
All day long a voice calls, 'Follow, dearest, M.
iOW.' i i.J t' ; '" - ? '
And toiling on, I seek to reach the goat, , .
Nor pause to list to yonder happy swal owj
Telling in song the seeretol nis soul."
"O foolish brook !" the wind blew in replying, "
"Am I not with you on the wing?
Cease your fond mourning, cease your weary
And snao!? your Start for such companioning !
The sua came up across .the silver dawning.
And hung a golden flame against the sky; - "
lie dallied not to drink the dews of morning,-
And when the night fell; lo! the brook was
iryl . :, : . .,
At res! at rest! no more of toil anceasing; ,., ,
No watering of the roots of shrub or tree; .
No hoarding from the rain, nor still increasing,
To lose itself, at last, within the seal
IllY MOtHEE;
by oroaei v. fx7i:. i-ici
The tender dew-drops fall
Upon the- shutting nowers; iiaa soujt ai (
Save me are blest, nl
Mother, I love thy grave! 1
The violet, with its blossoms blue and mild ,
Waves o'er thy head; when will it wu
Above thy child
'Tis a sweet flower, yet must
Its bright leaves to the morning tempest bow
Dear Mother, 'tis thine embleint dust .
is on thy brow. . ., ,
And I could love to die; ";- '' '.'-.
To leave untasted life's dark bitter streams, ;
By thee, as nrst in childhood, lie
fA . t. And share thy dreams. ''
And I mnst linger here, .,. .
To stain the plumage of my stainless years.
And mourn the hopes to childhood dear, "I"
- With bitter tears. ' i , . i a.-.!-
At. mnst I llnarerhere.
A lonely branch upon u withered tree,
vv nose last trail leai uuuneiv sere, F
venc aown witn snees
Oft from life's withered bower, '
In still communion with the past, I tarn '' '
And muse on thee, the only flower, , ,.
: - In memory's turn. .... ' , ,
And when the evening pale, .'.
Bows, like a mourner on the dim blue wave, . .
I stray to hear the night wind wail
Around thy grave.
Where Is thy spirit 'flown? . ' "'
I gazed above thy look is imagined there;'
I listen, and thy gentle tone i: . V:
.. -. . ... -. , Is on the air,, .;;,,,
O come, while here I press t )
My brow upon thy grave ; and in these, mild , ,
And thrilling tones of tenderness, .,
. Bless, bless thy child; ' '
Yes, bless your weeping child; ' ' ' " "' "' ', '
And o'er thine urn religion's holiest shrine, ''
t), givehis spirit undented, "i
t ... To blend with thine. : . ....
VHI SHOULD THE V
Why should they not, on free and tireless wing,
Visit as here, if, in theirjourneying
From the Far Country, where apart they dwell,
They yearn tor us, as we sun yearn lor tnera,
If but to touch their saintly garments' hem?
Oh, who can tell:
Why should they not? We wait at eve and morn,
ror tneir reium,
And our poor hearts ill brook their long delay,
As day by dav ,
We wait, and watch, and listen for the tread
Of those whom we call "dead!"
Why should they not, from that mysterious
cnange
We mis-call death, pain larger fuller range
To serve, as God's nigh ministers of good,
To our poor human hood?
Whv n lit ,hmiiirh i.l,imH.K EnPV
More than our wakened senses Clare to hear?! J.
. Why not, front sorrow's cheek, v u 7
With nnseen fingers wipe away the tear!
Aye! do they not, with clearer sense, discern
What wo so slowly learn; .-,
The while, with kindly purpose still il
They prompt to good, and warn us of the ill?
Does not their kind belie t
Greet ns alike in labor and in rest?,
And, thro' the night?. t. -:.
lo we not see their faces, calm and white .
fressed 'gainst the bars which shut them into
iignt.
While, with fond hands they beckon us away
, -- Into their dayJV i vO Jsili
Why shonld they not? oh, dim and nnrerealed!
The inner, from the outer sight concealed!
We wander still, alone the mist-hunar river.
Which rolls between us and the dread Forever
And, to its waves' that kiss our shrinking. feet,
uur vague untutored questionings repeat,
But not asouud
Breaks through the silence of the dark profound !
Whvuhnuld the not? OB. Universal Will! '
Bid these strunire emeries of Our hearts 'be Stllr
Teach us the trust, which spurns? the creed .of
late,
And onens wide Doubt's ihternosina' rate! '
Thou, the All-leather! we. Thy children, weald
With upturned bauds receive both ill and s;ood.
KJ uuuuuuuk iiin crosseu tu narrow tiue,
All is made plulu upon the other side. ' ''
CELIE.
BY GEORGE SAND.
FIRST PART.
CONTINUED.
iRrliAT IS well to say, .. answereu
I . . r. . , , . ,, 1
4 Vii Celie. "As to behavinir well
yes it is very natural, and here
we are not too much at variance
with ntture in that particular; but we
Bometimeshavestraugersjunong us who
do not resiect it in themselves, whose
pusillanimity exposes courageous people
tOtlanger; wiwieeo umb umiappv uriMfii
whom M. Armaud drew out ot the wa
ter. Bv ttie way, now is ne getting on
Bellac sent me word that he was not at
fill uneasy about him. - Have you seen
him? Does any one know who he Is f'?
"He can't 8ieak yetr" I answered ;
"but you know as well as we that he is
eomcUiing of an imbecile." ' ; '
"No matter," she answered, "every
Ijody must live. He is well cared for;
I am easy on his account. Come, take
your places at the table; Mme. William
is calling to us."
The bacon soup wa smoking like a
learner. Father William and his fami
ly took their place, the old pilot at the
right of the lady, his son William at her
left, according to custom ; but the brave
Celio did not sit down, and asked his
godmother to let him have the pleasure
if giving me that place of honor. She
consented graciously, ard Stephen was
nlajttd onnosite to her- M. Bellac soon
arrived, saying that his patient was well
pnnncli to take some soup, and that he
had left hU to the cave of his compan
ion.
"By the way, this companion," said
Celie, "is lie alsA one who has smuggled
himself ill aa a sailor?"
'He is rather." answered SteDhC.."a
eailor who is a smtieeler, who has th
Jook of a great filibuster."
. "Do you knout hurt, then '? : .. v .
"For a churl, yes."
"Indeed?" said Mile. Merauem
"Well, so much the worses it is a pity.
J took him for a man ; do you know that
lie did not appear like a poltroon.. ;yonr
9L r;ra&i
r, lal f
FMNE8VILLE
A
VOLUME I.
the only vice that is wanting to liim."
"You make me sorry. His bright face,
so pale and resolute, was beautiful
among the waves. Did you not see him,
Monsieur Armaud? you yourself made
not bad appearance at that moment.
Decidedly tbe sea shows men to good ad
vantage." "AudHria ttdless befcomlng to women,'
I answered, smiling.
- A compliment, and from vou ! Fie !
you took your .degree as a. sailor to-day,
and a sailor of toy crewv beside. .You n
longer ought to talk like a .man of the
world." - - ' - . ' V
"1 did not intend to say that you are
beautiful in any costume. I was think
ing of that beauty of the soul which givf s
(he human face an admirable serenity in
time of danger j and that is still more
loucniug in a woman tnan in a num."
mere are, nowever, some men whom
that kind of beauty displeases.- I have
beard say tnanv - times tnat a woman
ought to be" timid and nervous, under
penalty of losing her charm and becom
ing like a boy. -1 have taken hit coarse;
however, and you Would be wrong to
believe that I regret it: but to-return to
our castaways: notwithstanding that
tbey are, one a craven,' and the other a
worthless fellow, we must doonr duty to
them to the end. ' They may, perhaps,
have lost some jewels) or nsoaey in the
struggle, and the fact must not serve
them as pretext to take up their abode
among us. AL, lieJiac wm nave the good
ness- ,.ni- V i ; ..
"H la already, done," answered. M.
Bellac. "I have questioned them on
that point, and he, whom the other calls
tbe marquis, answered" me drily that he
never lost eitner nis seir-possession or
his purse."' ' ''' ;-
lhen let ns think no more aoout it.
said Celie,' "and enjoy ourselves among
our friends. ' I dort't wish' t sadden so
good a day as this by scolding Master
Celio BarcetVi ' 'let liian; .dry himself. in
peace at his .own fireside.", , , v!- .
btie was gay and .. seemed happy.
'Long Uvd the ladv," cried Mine. Wil
liam. "When she is in our house it
seems to us ijiat lifjr pretty ltugh Jights
UDtbe whole room."' And as she bent
toward Celie to change her' plate,' Celie
quietly planted a hearty kiss on the fad-
eu ami wnnxiea cneeK oi tne oia wom
an. ' This kiss; wnicn passea close tome.
all perfumed as it was with chaste good
ness and filial unreserve, still made me
shiver with jealousy j t j- in: :
Are you cold r said Celie innocently
to me. "Come, you must eat, that Is the
ably remedy j you do not eat at all!'.'
one sei me an example oj eating every
thing that was fcflered her with the ap
petite of a child. The repast was lar
from being delicate, but she' thought it
excellent; with the ' best faith ' in - the
world. From her infancy she hart lived
with these peasants; and her recreation
had been to live like them. The old
woman called her thou, and she said you
to them the same as to the old men,
hile she called all the rest thou. She
was in all respects one of the family, and
that too in every family' i the village,
for after every adventure at sea she re
ceived an invitation, from those who had
accompanied her, and the first. offer was
always accepted. I learned, from .the
conversation that, folio wef, that .she oft
en invited her village hosts to her own
table, ancrinat tney were as mucn at
their ease there 'its' at 'their own houses.
In seeing- them so" ifell behaverfl so faolitc.
and so filled with a nrofftnnd and heart-'
felt respect tot' her, l realiied'that these
villagers' ' front' their havmeei rertg
treated 'as. men,, had. really, become
men. Their cold nature, ther austere
ways of life, and the religious sentiment
with whictt tnat traternity wnicn la
founded on a common sense of danger
inspires them, made -their manners seri
ous without affection,' and their words
maaeitM nrihhnnh offni T cant in then,
that extraordinary 'tadt5'wh.1cli often re
veals itself as a natural talent tn those
people whom orieV1 would at first believe
to be the most'de void of it, the absence f
Which is so frequent and so shocking in
those who ought to have imbibed it from
example ana education
I had undergone some great emotions
to-day. 1 niaiwnjs-acourrfe er,-aving
been baptized"" iFMor bitSMtunate
wave; wiiat-vBa6j-jisuxiefttet--B& was
the amenitY.therjrrfldeTice-sliaiI f-say
the friendslnp f ot ueiie, conquered not
by a year of trial such as that to which
I had' resigned myself, but by a chance
which had come to me nice a nasn. ot
lishtninz. 1 Also I felt a .little elated at
seeing myself suddenly brought near to
the intimate side, tne eccentric ana sa
cred part of her life. I was already more
intimately allied to her than Montroger
had ever been or could ever be. l gave
mvself up unreservedly, for my part, and
it seemed, that I .was accepted without
examination aud without trial. . , The
slightest thing would have made rue lose
my 8elf-poei.' iX-had asUQhgiucll-(
nation to laugn, to cry out, to weep ; out
I repressed; these' transports, thanks to
the healthy and calming influence which
the other cuests exercised overmCi- At
a ball, under the cold and libertine eyes
of the -world, my secret wouia pernaps
have escaped tne ;- in tnis cabin, anct in
the midst of these fishermen, I felt my
self at every instant recalled to my sell-
respect. Stephen also expertencea some
thing of the saru feeling in his sphere
or appreciation; tie aia- not attempt to
light bis pipe' tn tne miauie ot . tne
dinner, he never once broke in upon the
conversation to talk of painting, and yet
it was not tne sulky Biienee or envy, tie
listened to M. Bellac, be looked at Celie.
he had the air of a' porcupine who has
he. n taken in a lady's wadded-muff.,
' Bellac aisertoved' 'the'pTOpleof Ca
nirtllft. . With. them, he . was neither
awkard -nbriiuiiel? he-allowed . them to
question him, for everything was a sub-
Tect for study with him, and he had
tauslit his iHjpils to observe. iThe con
versation, then, was really agreeable and
even substantial. The least sober per
son, this even inc. waSsCeJie,-- fche chat
ted with the Xvouien'and Irtughed at their
stories; she played with tne children.
Once more happened upon that wealth of
gaiety which l naa taiten at tier nouse
for a passiue - need of excitement-, and
which was really a fundamental part of
her character, t sne was younger, at
thirty, than all of the young girls with
whom 1 had - seen her-1 surrounded
younger, certainly, than my - cousin Er
nestiue, for she was 'preoccupied bv no
ambitions and no coquetries. She seem
ed to live from day to day, and to hav
never yet asked What she would do' with
the future astonishing freedom from
care which engendered an incomparable
geniality:
When they brought the brandy, she
poured out some tor me nersen, sayin
that it was the sailor s milk ; but did not
taste of it hersel f . There was a stead fast
vitality in her. which had no more, need
of wiue than of compliments to inspirit
her. . bhe lighted . old vv niiaui s pipe
herself, to force him to smoke In her
presence; but, without being incommo
ded by tobacco, she did not like it, and
withdrew to the chimney place, saying
that her ,feet were cold.
I threw away the cigar .wbich she, had
obliged me to take, and came near to her
without allowing myselt to sit down
though there was a very tempting chai
beside her, aiy heart was full or joy
and gratitude; but I, felt myself hecom
ingjnore timid In proportion as her con
fidence increased. I understood at last
that, after having once lost it, there could
be no more hone of ever regaining it.
It was so full and. so beautiful, this trust
of hers, and it descended irom so High I
, "What are you thiuklng of?" she said
tome. .
i'T nm nftt thlnlrtni. Turn hMirw'11"
"For what? Come, define this happi-
naiG It I ntAracro mo
. "I am ' happy at being able to see a
person 'like you surrounded by the love
that she deserves."
. "Then you like uncultivated peop)e
and their savage life. You appeared to
disdain them a little the other day."
"Tii tiksvp iay vu au egtUst. ' I
FAMILY FA PER,
PAIXESVIULE, LAKE COUNTY, OHIO, SATURDAY, DECEMBER
wanted to withdraw you from all who
love you, to be the only object of your
attention, or to have. a monopoly of wor
ship. , . To-day those who cherish you are
dear to me, and it seems to me that my
power of loving is increased a hundred
fold." .
I kuow not what I would still have
said, when, turning, I saw standing
near the table the man who styled him
self the Marquis de Kio Negro.
Old William, who was very acute and
prudent, bad risen as if out of politeness,
in order to force the stranger to be po
lite ; but it was lost labor. He passed by
him, brushing against him without re
spect, and hardly answering bis salute
by a nod of the head, after, which lie
walked straight to the fireplace, as if in
teudiug to speak to Celie without being
introduced or announced to his hosts.
' S put mvself between him . and her
without affectation aud as if by chance,
hut in such away as to oblige liim to
toncn me in taking .another step. Celie
was close in the corner of the chimney,
la the twinkling of an eye, M. Bellac,
Stephen, and the whole of William's
family . made a close circle round us.
he stranger measured with Ins eyetlie
thickness of this human rampart, but it
was in vain that be assumed the attitude
and disdainful look of a slave-driver
about to scatter his base herd with a blow
of. his whip; he felt , that he intimidated
no one, and, having decided on his
course of action,. "It is you that I am
looking for,", he "said tome; "I have
something to say to you.", .
vv eli, then, here l am, sir ; speaic to
me,". 1 answered.
"I want to speak with you alone; fol-
low mej',. '...,,.,.. . I.....
"if vou ask it as a. favor, very well;
otherwise I oidy obey those to whom 1
owe respect." .
"What do you mean by that?" ,
"I say that 1 do not know you."
"Well, then, listen to ine; I will let
you know me. . Will you come out for a
moment?". ' '7 ', '
Though the injunction was midway
between an order and a request, I was
Content with it. I did not wish to make
Mile. Merquem a witness to a quarrel.
did not know whether she was uneasy
or not. w e were so grouped before her
that the stranger could not boast of hav
ing seen her otherwise than in public. 1
followed him outside, and when we had
gone a few steps on the beach ;
iouare very suspicious in this part
of the country,"' he said to me. "Is it
because you see me look like a tourist?
It seems that a man must make you un
derstand what he is. And this is what
am," he added, ' offering me a bank
note. .'"Do you know a bank-note for a
thousand? I have no gold about me'."
"Go and trv somewhere else,"' I ans
wered, returning him his note. "I have
nothing with which to . change it for
you." . . , .
"It doesn't heed to be changed; keep
it." ;- .: ' ' :'.'
'I donot want it. I am not a child,
like those to whom you give watches.
We kuow not what brings you here.
ou Want to speak with a lady to whom
you cannot 'speak Without her permis-
j,"Ahd Without yours?"
"Without that or all or us, at least un
til you have hcrS." '
'Well, then, go and ask it lor me. 1
make no other claim on you. Isn't a thous
and francs' enough for this and for pull
ing my comrade out of the water?"
"1 Know nothing about ir. ' X am not
saver, of lives for wages. ' In this part
of the country , we don't do things in
that way ; ho more are we messengers.
Address yourself to the ' post; it's their
business to carry letters. "
1 turned my back to him, and heard
him apostrophizing , me coarsely, and
swearing that he would pay me lortnat.
turned round immediately, and, walk
ing directly up. to him, "Try it!" I said.
1 had apparently adapted my way ot
peaking well enough to my dress, ror
he believed himself to be dealing with a
sailor., tie eitner recoiled irom no ionu
combat: Of else he thought me not
strong enough to resist him, for he
struck me a vigorous blow on the head
with a flint-stone that he had in his clos
ed hand.' I was Hot stunned by it; rage
makes us ot quite another nature, and
gives us other 'muscles than those with
which we are commonly enuoweu. x
brought him a formidable blow in tbe
face, made heavier hy the same savage
weapon that he had made . use of. He
fell on the shingle groaning.,;! .'; .
"Well tut l .-cried btepben and, celio
Williamson, who had followed us in. the
twilight, and who had been present at
the hght with their hands in their pock
ets, to show. plainly that they were only
witnesses. ..,: . .
Have you had . enough?". Stephen
askedhim. ,i..v -,.( ;.. , . .......
For the moment, yes," he answered,
wiping on the blood which was stream?
ing over his faeef "since you are three
against one,"...' ' : ':'
You lie," said Stephen, "and since
you take it iu that way, we'll not touch
you even to help you up. , Go and dress
your wound at tne inn..'. r
The marquis could hardly answer ; I
had disfigured him. I set him on his
feet again, and he went off without ask
ing him for his revenge, In fact, we
were rid or him. He had wounded me
also rather severely. Celio brought it
to my notice. , I had not been conscious
of it. :m We returned to Stephen's house
by the balcony, when 1 wasneu my
wound hastily. The bone or the skull
was' not broken, and in such a case
wounds oh the head are nothing. I beg
ged Stephen to go out and look along
the" beach. 'My adversary might not
have strength enough to gain Michael's
inn in the condition in which he was.
Stephen cared very little about him ; but
lie was aware that this Celtic duel with
flint stones was a duel after all, and that
it would not to do to leave the wounded
on the field of battle. He set out to
walk to Michael's to speak to iiim with
out irritating the wounded man, and to
confirm the facts, in case the marquis
should- carry any calumnious reports
against any one of us, which we judged
him very capable ot doing. :
I replaced my woolen cap and reap
peared before Celie without showing the
least emotion. The others had seen us
from us a distance, but they had refrain
ed from making her uneasy ; she seemed
however, irresolute and anxious. " vv hat
has happened?": she said to me. "What
did that man want?" n-'
' "Nothing," I answered her. ' "He had
good intentions with respect to me. He
wanted to pay me for saving his friend.
I told hiin that the people of La Canielle
accept nothing for such services." .
"Yes, yes," added Celio, "you ans
wered him like a man who knows our
people ; you spoke very well, and we all
thank you for it.". . :
"But," said Celie, did he insist then?
Did he take you for one of us?"
"That is a hard word," I answered
"I thought I was one of you, for to-day
at least!"
'?Ho ought to be for ever!"., cried
Mother William, who had taken a great
liking for me.: "My lady, if you consent
we will baptize him."
"Baptize me! Is there a ceremony,
then?"
"Yes, yes," answered the good wom
an; "that is the custtim here, and it
must be observed, My lady, it is for you
to give permission.
"I am quite willing," said Celie, smil
ing; "but he is not a sailor, and never
will be. Every oho tb his calling, my
children."
"' "That makes' no difference; he need
only go, to sea when he plcase9, but he
will be united to our brotherhood. The
admiral's, institution excludes no one
from the bond of friendship at La Ca
nielle, since yon are in it, as well as M
Bellac and mywlfc.""
"That is true." Celio replied. "Well!
let us read the by-laws to him and bap
tise him u he asks for It."
"Yes, yes," I exclaimed; "L ask it in
advouee and oapay kftJ'' '
DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, SCIENCE,
Liiu m. niivii t-v a'.i uut tut uti KJ
Mother AViliiam, who was, seated by her
side, and who took both of my hands in
hers. They sent the children away,
solemnly fiolted the street door, and
placed on the table a white tablecloth,
three wax candles, a little plaster bust
of the admiral, and a basin filled with
sea water. M. Bellac read the by-laws
tome. They were simple and charming.
Celie had probably had them drawn up
in her childhood under the inspiration of
the generous aud romantic ideas of her
grandfather. They were like a page
from the Contort Social, engarlanded by
Florian. The old man read them with
all the unction of profound conviction.
J he whole ot tne little treemasourr re
duced itself to this: that it was neces
sary to help and love one another, and
to do good without accepting any other
recompense than the joy of the heart.
1 he candidate swore not to betray the
mystery of certain passwords and rally
ing cries. The words were given me in
a sealed paper, that I might study them
at my leisure. Celie looked at me close
ly, to see if these childish formalities
made me smile. I did smile, perhaps.
but my eves were full of tears. I seemed
to be brought intimately near to the
tender and happy infancy of the great
lady, t, her spotless youth, and to her
characteristic life, which was that of a
wise virgin and a beneficent fairy.
All the lormalities having been com
plied with, they brought the sea-water
to baptize me. I had entirely forgotten
my wound, which was not visible under
my hair, but which the water made
bleed.
"What is that ?"said Celie.turningpale.
"He has been fighting, I am sure of It."
"Good baptism where there is good
blood," answered Celio; "blood shed
for the honor of the fraternity! You
must know now, godmother, that the
man with the monev took the pride of
our new brother in bad part. He struck
him; but he has been paid for his pains;
our brother has broken his teeth, and we
shall not have the pleasure of seeing him
again before he has bad some new ones
put in at the town."
But he is a wretch, an assassin, or a
fool!" said Celie, indignautly. "What!
attack a man because he refuses money?
There was something else; you have not
told me all. Mother William whisper
ed in her ear; Celie appeared moved,
bnt she overcame her emotion immed
iately. Mother William has observed to me,"
she said, "that I ought not to interrupt
the ceremony. Let us go on with it. It
is necessary, according to custom, for
our brother to choose freely among us
what godfather and godmother he will
have."
"Ah! the godmother," I exclaimed,
trembling; "if 1 dared "
1 was going to oner mvself," she
answered, "for we are your sponsors,
William and myself."
They extended their clasped hands.
saying: "Arniand William Celio, we
adopt you for our brother, our friend,
and our godson. We will assist you in
your youth, aud you shall care tor us, it
necessary, in our age. celie kissed me
on both cheeks before the whole rooms.
1 received the same accolade from mv
godfather, his wife, and his sons; then
my initiation was proclaimed, and my
new name inscribed with my title ot
admission on the registry, of which Wil
liam was the guardian. I was called
Celio, aud in the official formula Celie
had called me thoul It seemed like a
dream.
"Now," said she, when I had signed,
"re.nember one important thing
that my friends here present as well as
mvseit consider necessary : you are re
ceived, -as . we say, under the
mantel-piece, by virtue of the peculiar
powers vested m us Bellac, William,
and myself. You can . make yourself
known to your other brothers in case of
need, to render them a service or to ask
help of them ; but you must not say the
word to them uselessly, and no one must
know outside of here that you are of the
fraternity. It was necessary that the
circumstances should be very exception
al to give cause for your admission, and
if it were known, we should receive more
thai one application which we could not
grant without destroying the character
and object of our little society. It is
what it is. It has borne good fruit, it is
well fitted to our ideas and our needs,
and we do not wish to make any change
in it." .
I took the oath of secrecy. It was one
more charm in the affair.
"Isn't M. de Montroger a member of
it?" I asked in a low voice of Celie.
"No" she answered, "he doesn't even
know that it exists. You see that the
people here are discreet."
.She put; on her cloak to return to her
hou-e. I obtained leave to be part of her
escort, which was composed of William
and his sons. Stephen, who had just
come In without suspecting that a bap
tism had taken place in bis absence,
summoned up courage enough to ask per
; mission to accompany us, and his request
was granted. It was, night and very
dark, we lighted torches of tar, and pre
pared to climb the path to the donjon.
" "Pay attention to my old Bellac," said
Celie aside to me ; "his legs are good yet,
but he becomes every day more and
more absent-minded. I confide him to
you, and she set off before with Ste
phen. I led the old man on in safety, and
when we arrived the last at the gateway
of the park, Celie, who was waiting to
say good-night to us, pointed out to us
the moon, which dwindled to a thin cres
cent, was rising behind the reer where
we bad sustained, a tew hours before, so
furious a strife against the sea. It was
quiet now, and breaking against the
black rocks In lines of silver. While
Stephen was talking with M. Bellac and
admiring its enect, celie took my arm
and drew me aside a few paces from the
little group. 1 was intoxicated with
happiness, and involuntarily pressed her
arm convulsively against my ureast.
Do vou love me? sne said in a reso
lute tone, as we stopped on the edge of
the ahyss.
, "I could die for you," 1 answered im
petuously.
wen, listen to me. ton must not
fight with this stranger, if, learning who
you are, he should try to provoke you to
a duel."
"If he is as contemptible as Stephen
cons'ders him, I would not honor him
so much as to fight a duel with him
would knock him down immediately, if
he insults me."
"But I am unwilling that, for my
sake, you should be liable to any such an
adventure. Promise me to depart to
morrow for Paris." '
"Could you esteem me after such a
piece of cowardice?"
- "It is not cowardice to preserve our
selves from a hostile meeting with nox
ious persons when our life is necessary
to those who are dear and precious to us.
What Would your aunt say to see you re
turning wounded? She" would curse
me, if she learned that I was the cause of
it. Come, promise me to set off to-morrow."
: "Why to-morrow? It will be a
month before this wretch will be in a
condition to do any injury. I have hurt
him more than he did me. Ah! do not
slay me at the moment that I seem to
walk off air. Do not ask me to separate
mvself so far from you on tiic day in
which you have adopted me as your
brother, your friend, and your god-sou.
I should become crazy."
"But," sho replied, with hesitation,
"is it not love which vou have for me?"
(to be continued.
Rev, Job G. Bass, of Brooklyn, N. Y.,
Ex-Chapla!.n of the United States A rmy,
was waylaid Sunday night by two n'c
greos, who drew knives and demanded
ids money or life. The old man defended
himself with a stout cane, aud succeeded
in driving offhis assailants, after having
crippled oue'of them by a blow with his
tik.
AXECOOTES OF PUBLIC ME.
BT COL. J. W. FORSE",
xo.loiv.
Shortly after I took possession of the
.Lancaster (la.) lntttttgencer. more tnan
thirty-four years ago before I had
reached ma -hood Mrs. Dickson, the
amiable and gentle postmistress of that
place, handed"tne a soiled letter directed
to " the editor of a newspaper," which
she said had been iu her possession for
more than a year, and had not been de
livered because it had no definite address.
Upon opening it I found it dated Logans
port, Indiana, and signed by George W.
Ewing, United States Indian Agent.
He slated that he had only recently stop
ped at an Indian wigwam for the night
on the banks of the Mississinewa, about
fifty miles south of Fort Wayne, and
found it occupied by a family who were
rich for Indians, and boasted of consid
erable property in houses and lands.
He went on to say that in the course of
the evening he noticed that the hair of
one of the women was light and her
skin under her dress white, and so he
entered into conversation with her,
which was not difficult, as he spoke the
language of the tribe. She told him she
was white, but had been carried away
when a very small girl. She could only
remember that her name was Slocuiu;
that shj had lived iu a little house on
the Susquehanna; also the number of
her father's family, and the order of
their ages ; but she could not recall the
name of the town from which she was
taken. Fascinated by this romantic
story, yet undecided how to let the facts
be known, he wrote a letter and sent it
to my native town of Lancaster as the
place nearest the Susquehanna that he
could remember of any importance. Af
ter ,as I have said,sleeping in the postofiice
for many months, it came out through
the columns of my little journal, aud in
that way got to the Slocums of Wilkes
barre, being the first intelligence of the
child which had been stolen from them
sixty years before. The brother of Fran
ces, who was only two years and a half
old when his sister was carried off by
the Indians, started tor the Indian coun
try in company with his eldest sister,
who had aided him to escape, and anoth
er brother, then living in Ohio, born
after the captivity of Frances. After a
long journey they found a little wig
wam among the Miami Indians. "We
shall know Frances," said the sister,
" because she lost the nail of her first
finger. Yon, brother, hammered it off
in the blacksmith shop when she was
four years old." They entered and
found a swarthy woman who looked to
be seventy-five. She was paiuted, jew
eled, and'dressed like an Indian in all
respects. Nothing but her hair and her
colored skin indicated her origin. They
got an interpreter, asked her name and
where she was born. " How came that
nail gone?" said the eldest sister She
answered, "My elder brother pounded
it off when I was a little child in the
shop." They had discovered the long
lost sister. They asked her Christian
name. She had forgotten it. " Was it
Frances?" As if smitten by a revelation,
she answered, " Yes." It was the first
time she had heard it pronounced in sixty
years. Here they were met, two broth
ers and two sisiers, after having been
separated for more than half a century.
The brothers were walking the cabin,
unable to speak, the sisters were drown
ed in tears, but the poor Indian sat mo
tionless and passionless. She could not
speak a word of English. She did not
know when Sunday came. Was not
this the consummation of ignorance in a
descendant of the Puritans? She was
carried oil' by the Indians, and when she
grew up she married one of their num
ber. He either died or ran away, and
then she married a. Miami chief, since
dead. She had two daughters, both
married, who, thirty-four years ago,
lived in all the glory of Indian cabins.
deer-skin clothes, and cow-skin head
dresses. They bad horses in abundauce,
and when the Indian sister accompanied
her new relatives, she bridled her horse
and mounted it astride. At night she
slept on the floor, with her blanket
around her. They could not persuade
her to return to Wilkesbarre, even when
the invitation was extended to her chil
dren. She had always lived with the
Indians, they had been kind to her, and
she promised her last husband on his
death-bed she would never leave them.
It is now nearly ninety-five years since
this white child was torn from her pa
rents' home in Wyoming Valley. She
herself has been gathered to her fathers,
and most of her double family who
were living in 183S, with the exception,
I believe, of Mr. Joseph Slocum, now
one of the most influential and respec
table citizens of Scran ton. Among all
the changes that have taken place in
this long interval, few are more inter
esting than this transformation from
civilization to barbarism.
A coincidence even more romantic is
soon to be revealed in the pages of the
remarkable book ot w imam still, ot
Philadelphia, entitled the "Under
ground Railroad," referred to in my
last number. Mr. Still kept a careful
memorandum of the sufferings and tri
als of his race during the existence of
the fugitive-slave law, in the belief that
they would be instructive to his poster
ity rather than from any hope of tbe
overthrow of the revolting system of
human servitude. But when that pass
ed away, and speech became as free as
thought, and the printing press, the
school-house, the ballot, and every civil
right, were secured to the colored' race,
he resolved to spread before the world
this unprecedented experience. When
his book appears it will accomplish
more than one object. Interesting to
the literary world, it will undoubtedly
facilitate the reunion of other colored
families, long divided, long sought for,
and perhaps to this day strangers to
each other. The curious similarity be
tween the case of the wealthy Slocuiu-
in Wyoming Valley and the experience
ot Mr. still will be Intensined when the
book is publi.-hed. Here we find the
story of Peter Still, torn from his moth-
er when a little boy of six, and for more
than forty years a slave iu Alabama,
totally destitute of all knowledge of his
parents. We are told how by extreme
economy and overwork he saved about
nve hundred dollars with which to buv
his ransom how he started in search of
his mother and kindred how he reached
Philadelphia, where, bv having notices
read in the colored churches that more
than forty years before "two little boys
were kidnapped and carried South,", he
obtained information in regard to them
how, after traveling sixteen hundred
miles, the first man Peter Still sought
advice from was his brother, the author
of this very book on the Underground
Kadroad, whom he had never seen or
heard of how, after this mutual recog
nition, the selt-ransonied captive was
destined again to suffer the keenest
pangs of sorrow for ids own wile and
children, whom he had left in Alabama
in bondage how finally, a brave white
man, Seth Conklin, proceeded to Ala
bama, carried off his wife and children,
and was retaken with them, in Indiana,
and perished while he was being carried
in irons back to tho South, by leaping
from the boat in which they were con
fined. The volume, containing this and
other equally romantic yet truthful sto
ries, will soon be out, and, my word lor
it.no book of the times will be more
eagerly read or nmre profitably remem
bered,
Tin:
iMrE.Diso cicisis"
THE DEMOCRACY.
OF
BY HON. 6CHYI.ER COLFAX. VICK-PRBSI
PENT OF THE UNITED STATES.
Death or tlcteat! KnWcnner or over
throw! These are the unwelcome al
ternatives which now confront the once
powerful Democratic party of the na.
tlou. Lat spring how jauntily their
AGRICULTURE,
leading presses talked of Republican
disintegration; how boastiugly they
prophesied the overthrow of Republican
domination ; how oracularly rhey dis
cussed, as they have for so many years,
of Republican violations of the Consti
tution, which were at last to bs rebuked
by the uprising of au indignant people !
Anon the State .elections began to be
heard from: but their rebuke fell on the
Democracy instead, and the "new de
parture" become the theme of their di
cussion. Ihey might be willing,
thought, to escape the odium of
they I
tneir i
past course by accepting the measures i
they had fought against so zealously, if ! ly as Ohio or Pennsylvania : and the na
the. people would again intrust them i tion in 1872 as surely as the State elee
with power. But the election went ou ; tion of 1871. But. next and above all.
and with the clearest possible voice they !
declared either on the old platform or
new ones, ou the principles cf '64 or '68,
even with the resolutions of '9S attached
or detached the people would not have
the Democracy to rule over them.
The "anthem of Republican victories
thus resounding across the continent"
in a year, too, when the victors them
selves scarcely expected such a succes
sion of triumphs has had a thrilling re
sult on the Democratic leaders, but re
cently so bouyant and elate. Their ju
bilant rooster refuses to crow. The pyra
mids of States which were t insure the
Democratic triumph of 1872 have tum
bled into ruins. Their bitter personal
attacks on the President continue, re
gardless of their evident lack of effect
on all unprejudiced minds. And the
railing accusations against the Republi
cans as Constitution breakers are kept
up; for during ten years Democracy has
consisted in arguing that every measure
for the protection of the nation or the
individual was flagrantly unconstitut
ional. But the utter hopelessness of the
party is evinced by the discussions now
going on in its presses of the plan pro
posed by the St. Louis Republican, one
of the ablest aud boldest of their leading
papers, that the Democracy should make
no national nominations, but support
independent Republicans for President
and Vice-President! And Senator
Blair, their last caudidate for the latter
office, and one of the frankest of their
public men, declares to a Southern au
dience, "rather than go back on my new
principles (by agreeing formally to the
new departure) I would prefer to make
a choice of Republicans, and go for a
man who should be nominated by the
disaffected Republicans," etc. , .
What a change is this that has come
o'er the spirit of their dreams' The
once great and potential organization
that for fo many years governod this
country; that in the days of its prime
overthrew every party that, resisted its
sway ; that but recently was so full of
hope and enthusiasm, aud -so sanguine
of its return, after its long exile, to na
tional power, is now discussing whether
it will dare to run Democra U at all at
the Presidental election of 1872! To
nominate candidates of their own party,
believers in their own principles, is, as
they see plainly, to go down to a fore
doomed defeat. To abandon the field
in advance is political death, real or as
sumed. Such is the sad dilemma afflict
ing the Democratic mind.
There is a reason for this decline and
fall of a once powerful party. It is
written in its history. Itself has been
its worst enemy. It has forced the peo
ple to believe that it has still, as during
the rebellion, a southern face. That, as
as it then on the one side warred for the
destruction of the nation, and on the
other side warred on all ; the war meas
ures of the Government, so now at the
South it inspires or palliates organized
outrage and assassination, and at the
North denounces every effort of thel na
tion to punish such horrid and unex
ampled crimes as tyrannical and uncon
stitutional. In the issues they have voluntarily made
on this question they have been -smitten
with political blindness perhaps misled
by the fact that some able Republicans
doubted the wisdom of all the details of
the Ku Klux bill. But our opponents
could not have tnade themselves weaker
before the people at large than by the
bitter denunciations wmcn nave neen
the staple. of their canvassing speeches
this year. Their arguments tnat tne na
tion had no right to enforce its Constitu
tion and laws for the protection of its
citizens seemed exactly akin to their
theories often years ago, that the nation
had no right to coerce a State which was
I.: 1 - .i.A 1 ..;,.. . n1!. w.,vl.
all tneir aopnistries tne peopic recogniz
ed that under the amendment which de
volved on Congress, the power, and
hence also the dutv, to enforce (the
strongest word in the dictionary) every
jot and tittle of the article by appropri
ate legislation. iCongress had enacted
that wharever disguised oands,organized
and sworn to commit murder and out
rage, have made the ordinary process of
law impracticable, wnere local autnori
t es approve their horrid iniquities or are
overawed by them, this reign of terror
ism and fiendish violence is to be ended by
the national power, wielded not for op
pression, but to suppress disorder and
and protect the helpless. Protection of
the poorest and humblest against out
rage that would disgrace the convicts of
Botany Bay or the brigands ot Italy, is
the object or tins much maligned law
And "its true intent aud meaning" (that
the security of the citizens is the most
vital object of constitutions) is appreci
a tad and indorsed and honored by mil
lions oi American ueu u uui liiiuieu, j
rejoice to say,; to the ranks of any one
party in our land.
It is because the people at large rec
ognize so fully and detest so utterly the
wicked and bloody deeds ot these dan.
gerous bands at the South, who rob, who
bum, neat, maim, snoot ana nang; it is
because thev reject so sternly all pallia
tions for these atrocties, which dishonor
the Republic ; and it is because they de
mand that, under our amended consti-
ution. the weakest citizen shall be de
fended against the most powerful organ
ization and conspiracy at nome, as he
would be against tne most arrogant or
powerful empire' abroad, and by the
whole power ot tne nation, wherever the
exercise of that power becomes nec
essary, that all the Democratic argu
ments against the Ku-Klux legislation of
the Republicans have not only fallen so
pointless, but, recoiling, indeed, on
tneir authors, nave proved to tnem so
unmistakably an element of weakness.
JS or is this all that has tended to san
the strength and blight the hopes of the
Democratic party, mere is a "danger
ous class," North as wellasSouth.which
the people feel that it would not be safe
to install in power, in the person of its
favorites or apologists,
Go in any of our large cities. East or
West. Ask any of its citizens of anv
party this question : "In the quarter of
this "city where vice and evil reigns su
preme ; where everything that is good
and just is trampled under foot, and
everything that is wicked and vile and
iniquitous; where you would not dare
to let vour wife or daughter walk after
nightfall unattended ; to which party do
its denizens give their confidence, their
indorsement, and their approving votes ?
and the answer you are sure to receive is
to-day the weakness of the Democratic
party. With the, dangerous power of
the dangerous classes, North and South,
as plainly illustrated as it has been of
late, the thousands of votes our oppo
nents receive from them are more than
oil-set by tens of thousands who refuse
to cast their votes in the same direction,
and thus to be found fraternizing with
them at the polls.
But, though the inevitable defeat
which Democratic leaders, see awaiting
them, if they place Democratic nominees
betore the country on a l lemocratie
platform, may be avoided bv the hai-ika-
ri proposition now under discussion
amohg them, Republicans' must not
close their eyes to the fact that such a
campaign may lie more dangerous to
them as an organization than the open
field on which they have so often met
aud ' defeated their opponents. By
AND GENERAL NEWS.
2, 1871.
Atr-l.tt-lx. fillVi n yvli...r n.ni D i...l,TT.-. ....
ascendancy overthrown in Tennessee
and Missouri. And, though It would be
more difficult to play the same game on
the broader arena of the whole nation,
and its results in the future might be
far more disastrous to the party which
sought political resurrection "through
apparent suicide, the fact that such a
plan is contemplated at all should im
pel action this Winter which would
place the Republicans on impregnable
ground. Firr nf all unit v. Wirh
thorough
concord and zealous energy
New York could be carried now as sure"
meeting the new and living issues of to-
day like a brave and living party of
faithful, patriotic and large hearted men.
With a hearty endorsement of reforms
with generous reductions of taxation.
! and especially treating taxes on tea.
coffee, incomes, etc., as war burdens, to
be dispensed with m peace and reserved
for the momentary exigencies of war
with thorough and searching retrench
ment and economy in every branch of
the service, proving Republicanism to
be the party of genuine practical reform,
of philanthropic principles, of even
handed justice, and of healthv progress
the newest departure of the Democra
cy, whatever shape it may finally assume
cau be made a confusion of tongues for
it, resulting only- in a defeat which will
shatter it as a political organization here
after, and become, at last, only a wind
ing-sheet ot all its future hopes.
THE ROYAL HOA0.
BY GAIL HAMILTON.
If women insist upon the suffrage men
must grant it. If women claim the con
sequences and the burdens, how can they
justly be hindered from exercising the
powers? ism we nave a right to demand
that men shall not yield it at the call of
any clique, committee or convention, but
only of a certified majority of women.
They shall make sure that women do
want it, and not impose a burden on the
mistaken .supposition that thev are grant
ing a request.
v ith women the danger is that the
case go by default. The hardship to
which many women are subjected is real,
the remedy proposed is superficially
reasonable, its advocacy is persistent and
palpable; opposition, from the nature of
things, is more or less passive. Men are
strong and dominant,aud they vote. Wo
men have as good a right to vote as men.
Let them vote, and they also will become
strong and dominant. Thus lightly ,and
without at all comprehending the extent
of the revolution which must follow if
the suffrage amounts to anything,woinen
may assume, or permit to lie imposed up
on them, a task from which they will find
it dithcuit to disembarrass themselves.
In the meantime, is it not possible fo.-
women to forget the foolish and exasper
ating arguments which have been turned
against thcin,aud yet to respect the oppo
sition out of which those arguments
sprung, and which is infinitely wider
and deeper than they ? Never a cause
escaped wholly undisgraeed by its own
lollowers. f alse assumptions and de
grading implications are no new tilings
under the sun. But truth is ever to be
sought along the pathway of error. Let
us cease to take the wings of , the morn
ing and fly to the uttermost parts of the
earth to find reasons for the existing state
of society : but admit simply and frank
ly at the outset that things are where
they are because they are what they are.
We shall theu be in the line, of discovery
and advancement. If. the equality of
man and woman is the problem of the
race, men we have no data to jreason
from. The past is wholly inconsequent.
and the future is but guesswork. But if
we reunquisn tne idea ot equality and 1
substitute for it unity, appichending the
perfect being as a man created by Uod
male and female, and not two men or
two women, then even the fighting facts
of history cluster into . symmetry, the
narsliest discords soften into harmony,
and out of the depths of failure and an
guish comes the certain promise of peace.
Looking back along the progress of the
centuries, we find that woman has at
tained power anu pre-eminence chiefly
in the-realms of the spirit. Man has sub
dued the world ; uut woman has subdued
man. Mind and muscle have won his
victories; love and loveliness have gained
hers. No monarch h;is been so great, no
peasant so lowly, that he has not been
glad to lay Ids best at the feet of a wo
man. Is there no significance in this?
Does it mean simply that men have been
trained to material victory, women to
spiritual conquests? As well might wc
adopt the famous theory that language
was invented by a convention of learned
societies assembled for that purpose.
The degradation and suffering of wo
man does not contradict.but confirms this
hypothesis. In the race, as well as the
individual, spiritual development comes
not first. The sweetest saint in the cal
ender was a little animal for the first
months of his life. In the ruder stages
of the human race physical life is high,
but spiritual life is faint and feeble. Wo
man man's inner, finer, dearer self is
held in abeyance. She can be only
spiritually discerned; but his spirit is
scarcely yet roused into life, and she be
comes but a hewer of wood aud a drawer
of water; though even then the light
which he cannot see shines sometimes in
to his closed eyes and warms his torpid
soul; then, out of a barbaric past, down
the gloomy ages, trembles a legend of
truth and tenderness that makes all ages
akin. In the lowest, as in the highest
state of life, man treats woman precisely
as he treats his own spiritual nature. If
all his powers are bent to self-indulgence
or self-glorilication, woman does but min
ister to his pleasures or emphasize his
grandeur. As he rises in the scale she
rises in his estimation. The more noble,
truthful, self-sacrificing, benevolent lie
becomes, the more tenderly he cherishes,
the more devoutly he serves, where once
he exacted and despised. Then the story
of the Genesis is evolved. Out of his
love springs her life. She who was his
prey becomes his protector. She saves
him from himself. Fenced in by his
care from outward hurt and hindrance,
she guards him, cousciously or uncon
sciously, from his baser impulses, from
his downward tendency, from his reck
less strength and regnant will.
Thus it has been, and thus it shall be
ui'der the sun. The plant which flowered
to grace and color and fragrance amid
tiie confusions of the past drew its life
from no chance source, struck its roots
into no shallow soil. Thorns and bram
bles abound, and many a heart will faint
before the wilderness shall blossom into
the garden of the Lord.' A thousand
seeds may be planted, and a thousand
saplings transplanted, and no one of
them utterly fail; but it is this one
growth, springing spontaneously from
the soil, tender, yet hardy, as brave as
beautiful, that shall riseaiid broaden mid
bourgeon into the tree of life, whose
leaves are for the healing of the naiions.
WHO TO .HARRY.
We clip tho following excellent advice
to boys, who arc on the look-out for a
hel-mate, from one of our exchanges:
Keep your eyes open, boys, when you
are aiier a woman, ii ine uuie dear is
cross, and scolds her mother in the back
room, you may be sure to get. particular
fits all arouii'l the house. ff she apol
ogizes ior wiping tne uisnes, vou need
a girl fo fan her. If she blushes
when: at the wash-tub with her sleeve;
rolled np.be sure, sir, that she is codfish
aristocracy mhs little breeding anl no
sense. If-you marry a woman who
knows nothing lint to commit man
slaughter on the piano, yon have got the
poorest piece of muslin that was ever
gotten up. Find the one whose mind is
right, then pitch in. Don't be hanging
round like a sneep tinel, as though
ashamed to rte t-een around in the day
tune, but walk up like a chicken to
dough, aud akk for the atticlu like a man.
NUMBER 21.
tniiUES AXO CASUALTIES .
The jewelry store of J. Brenner,
Maiden Lane, New York, was robbed
Saturday of twenty-five hundred dollars'
worth of diamond rings by a sneak-thief.
An elderly gentleman at Cincinnati
took out a license in the Probate Court
last Saturday, to marry the divorced
wife of his own son, and the parties were
afterward duly united in the holy bonds.
Mrs. Allen Young, said to be a victim
of an abortionist nained Mrs. Palmer, at
Williamsburg, wa9 found in Broome
street. New York, on Saturday night, in
a critical condition, and sent to the hos
pital. News has reached London of a col
lision at sea between two supposed
American vessels, the Ella Norton and
Agnes Campbell. The hitter was so
badly injured that she sunk. No further
particulars.
In Crittenden County, Arkansas, re
cently, a young man named Holmes had
his nose slashed open with a knife aud
one of his eves gouged out by a despera
do with whom he romonstratcd for us
ing insulting language to ladies.
A lire Moudav in the old Tabernacle
Church building, in the rear of Mulberry
street, New York City, now a tenement
house, resulted in the destruction of the
household furniture of twenty-five poor
families, and the fatal burniiig of Ann
Walsh.
The steam boiler in James Ward &
Co.'s Russia mill, in Niles exploded on
Monday afternoon, tearing the stack to
pieces. About four feet of the front of
the boiler blew out, throwing the fire
and hot water over the fireman, J. Com
ensney, burning and scaldibg him prob
ably fatally. The engineer, Thos. Joce
was also badly scalded in the back.
Frances Shumaker, a poor woman liv
ing near Grand Towers, III., was brutal
ly murdered last Monday night. She
was first attacked, in the house and beat
en with a club, but escapad and was
followed and struck with an axe and her
head almost severed from her body.
When found the remains were nearly
devoured by hogs. No clue has been ob
tained to the murderers.
John M. Hazen, township treasurer,
residing at New Point, nine miles from
Greensburgh, Indiana, while returning
to his home with township funds to the
amount of over one thousand dollars,
was set upon, a short distance from' the
village, by three robbers, who shot him
twice in the breast, inflicted a number of
cuts and bruises upon his person, and
made good their escape with the money.
He was dangerously hurt, though it is
hoped not fatally. 'There is no clue to
the perpetrators.
At 8 :30 o'clock Wednesday an explo
sion occurred in the boiler-room at Har
per's Building ih Franklin Square, New
York. The explosion was caused by the
ignition of some gas which had been es
caping from the gas-ometer, and was so
violent that the roof of the structure was
blown off and. the building damaged to
the extentof $1,000. Neither of the main
buildings was damaged. James Graham,
the fireman employed in the boiler room,
was seriously injured about the head,
face and arms. He was cared for at the
Park Hospital.
Early Monday morning the body of a
well-dressed man was found in an open
lot near Newark, New Jersey, with
his throat cut . from car to ear.
At first it was supposed to be a case of
suicide, but a close inspection disclosed
the fact that one of the hands of the de
ceased was wounded as if in an effort to
ward off blows from a sharp instrument,
aud on inquiry it was learned that per
sons living in the neighborhood heard
shrieks about one o'clock that morning.
These circumstances seem to indicate
that the man was murdered. There is
no clue to the name of the deceased, nor
to the' motive for his murder.
At an early hour Sunday morning the
body of Doc. Kiggins, a farmer, was
found about one half mile from Akron.
Whcu discovered he was sitting against
a biunip ueao. ne was seen
Saturday night in town with his
team, anu it is supposed that lie was in
toxicated aud fell from his wagon, the
wheels passing over his head. It is
stated that at about 7 o'clock Sunday
morning, a lady on her way to church
saw hint and he asked her for a drink of
water, and shortly afterwards he was
found dead. His horses were standing
some instance irom tne DOdy, with the
lines wrapped round one ot the hubs.
Up to this time there has been no inquest
ueiu.
CHURCH OOING FIFXsf TEAKS
AGO I Si VERMONT.
BY BARTON.
In that early day carriages of any kind
were rare. Iu summer those wlio did
not come to church on foot rode on
horseback; the wife, unless she happened
to possess tne luxury ot a side saddle.
riding behind her husband, and the sis
ter behind her brother, while the little
boy or girl was perched on the pommel
in front. The gathering of a country
wiigicKivuuu uii t Qiuiuny morning, ill
those days, was a spectacle alike ani
mating aud picturesque ; men from the
outlying hills trudging ou foot over the
dusty highways, or crossing the greeu
fields to shorten the distance, their coats
hanging on their arms, and their suu
burnt faces covered with perspiration;
shy boys and shyer maidens walking in
close proximity, hardly daring to speak
to eacii otner; others comiug trom every
quarter on horseback, you tig colts by the
dozen following their dams, their re
spective whinnyings making music, less
scientific, it must be confessed, than that
of the organ, but sometimes more pleas
ant to the keenly sensitive ear than the
nasal discord3 of the church choir. In
winter the scene was different, but not
less animating. The snowdrifts of those
days were hard to beat, but they were
rarely so deep that the people did not
oontinue to go through, over or around
them in order to get to the meeting
house, and that, too, though it stood on
one of the bleakest hills iu the town,
and was innocent of fire save that which
the women brought, in their footstoves.
In such a plaee, with the thermometer
at ten degrees below aero, and the wind
making the loose sash rattle like a eon.
tinuous fire of musketry, and driving the
snow in through every crack and cranny,
it required both courage and fortitude
either to preach or to'hear. There was,
however, one advantage that should not
be overlooked; the aching feet and
hands aud shivering bodies of tho con
gregation were a sure preventive of
sleep. I have a vision now of the ven
erable Worcester in the high, old pulpit,
the wind shaking the broad sash at his
back and sifting the snow into a drift on
the Hour around him, his hands red and
stiff with cold, aud his teeth almost chat
tering; and yet he goes bravely aud un
flinchingly on from 'firstly' to" 'teuthly.'
the congregation sufl'erinp not less than
himself, but listening with a patience
which, if it could havo been utilized to
that end, would have served for so many
martyrs undergoing the torture of the
inquisition, ll, iu such circumatances,
a certain locality, more frequently men
tioned In the pulpit then than uow,
seemed an almost desirable place on ac
count of its warmth, why wonder? On
such days as this those who lived near
the meetinghouse opened their doors at
noon-time to those who came from a dis
tance, allowing them to warm their shiv
ering bodies at blazing wood fires while
eating their luncheon of nutcakes aud
cheese. Some, it must be confessed,
preferred to go to the tavern, where
they could warm the Inner and the outer
man at the same time, and fortify them
selves for the second service by a uoon
day dram. '
AJVl;HTl!sIG RATJLiM.
xrict. Ilff. 3 w. 6 w. I 3 m. 6 m. 1 IS m
1 im-h. l.liO gg.QO f t.50 g5.85 S.0O 1 12.00
8 1.75 1 8,006-33 7.00 la.UO 17.(10
s i a.50 4.U0I ti.dbi a50 15.00 1 sa.ot
4 " I 3.a 1 5.00 1 7.00 I 10.00 I 17.00 8W.I1U
5 I 3.75 1 5.50 I K.7S 11.00 1 33.00
ii col. t.50 7.00 10.00 14.00 23.00 87.50
H " S.2. 8.00 ( 19.00 10.50 85.00 45.00
ii ' K00 18.50 lli.50 31.00 3.-.00 65.00
X " 10.50 16.00 23.00 85.00 55.00 05.00
1 " I 10.00 I -jQ.OO I 30.00 47.50 I 75.00 I 130.00
Itnsinoss notices in local columns will be charg
ed for sit the rate of 15 cents jer line for fits
insortion Mini eight cents per line for each sub
sequent insertion
Uusiiiess cants $1.25 per line per annum.
Yearly advertisers discontinuing their adver
tisements before the expiration of theircontracta
wilt tc charged according to the above rates.
Transient advertisement must invariablv be
paid for in advance. Kegnlar advertisement
to be paid at the expiration of each otiaHr.
MELAXOE.
AfterAlexis what?
Spades are trumps at Chicago.
In Turkey' thev'exile rascally" public
officials.
A new version of an old verse Loathe
the poor Indian.
Carbolic acid convinced a Richmond
man that all is vanity.
"Fit you with a tin ear" is the succes
sor of "put ahead on you."
Camargo, 111., has a population of 2,000,
and not a single young lady.
Adruggistis not inappropriately term
ed the chief pillar of society.
A. volume that will bring the tears to
your eyes A volume of smoke.
What is lovely woman's favorite lint
in the dictionary? The last word.
Arsenic, used by mistake for soda,
made a Utica family sick of cake.
Mrs. Joaquin Miller is about to under
take the publication of her poems.
An Irishman calls his sweetheart
"honey" because she is bee-loved.
When does a man impose upon him
self? When he taxes his memory.
Why is a jailor like a player on the
piano? .Because he fingers the keys.
How to make a hot-bed Go to bed
with a lighted cigar in your mouth.
Motto for lawyers, be brief; for doc
tors, be patient; for potters, beware.
Why is a wounded man like an old pair
of boots? Because he wants healing.
Senator Wilson's favorite phrase of
God's green earth" is out of season.
Eating sausages and buying eggs are
described as "confidence operations."
A Washington monster has made a col
lection of ninety-eight cats, no two alike.
Why is the in-side of everything nn-
intcligible? Because we can't make it
out.
The reporters interviewed a Louisiana
prisoner uutil he begged piteously to be
hanged.
It is the fashion in the best society In
Strasburg to pretend not to understand
German.
Mrs. Madden of Texas was so madden
ed by the insults of a rowdy that she shot
him dead.
Mexico is said to be like the earth, In
that it has a revolution every twenty
four hours.
Why is tiie elephant the most mourn
ful of animals? Becauseof it's ponderous
size (sighs).
A New Orleans thief stole five cases of
tobacco, and now chews the cud of reflec
tion in jail.
Why are birds melancholy In the
morning? Because their little bills are
all over due.
Things that will never hurt by falling
Prices ; they fall so slow they will nev
er get smashed.
A rural youth asked a Greenfield drug
gist for a "stick of tomatum to color his
m ustachc with."
Why Is a young lady forsaken by her
lover like a deadly weapon? Because
she is a cut-lass.
A Tennessee candidate wants the sup
port of those "who fought on both side?
during the war."
. Why are the young ladies so partial to
sunset and twilight? Because they are
daughters of Eve.
In conversation, a wise man may beat
a loss how to begin, but a fool never
know how to stop.
The difference between a sick girl and
a brick-bat is the difference be tween a
missile and a miss ill.
In too many lamentable Instances, the
"las t scene of all this strange, eventful
history" is kerosene. ' -
"Bangorillas" is the name Of a South-'
em paper applies to the inhabitants of
certain city Of Maine. ,
A vigorous Georgia mule jumped from
a two-story window to the ground with
out the slightest injury.
Mr. Darvin will he rejoiced to learn
that a Xew-Zealand monkey was discov
ered nursing a human infant.
Boston people who are in doubt aa to
the liest "watering-places," have got in
to the habit of asking the milkman.
A good drain on a farm Heavy mort
gage at ten per cent, will drain it about
as rapidly as anything we know of.
Amateur sportsmen starting out on a
hunt will oblige us bylcaving their names
and age at this office. Danbury Kews.
The courage of an Indian bride and
groom gave out ou the threshold of the
church, and the ceremony didn't come
ofl'.
Michigan is infested with a large gang
of thieves who steal horses and run them
into the neutral grouud of Canada.
When Medill dies the Chicagoaus will
have to embalm him. To bury him would
be intermedilling .Mobile Register.
Theodore Woodhull and Victoria Til
ton are nominated for President and
Vice-President by a confused Western
editor.
An Alabama parent didn't favor his
daughter's lover, and bet him five hun
dred dollars he wouldn't marry her. The
pareut lost.
The chief branch of industry among
the Mormons just now is making tracks,
though some of them have gone into tho
hide business.
An ingenious Kentucky prisoner set
fire to the jail, and leisurely slipped away
while the population were engaged in
subduing the flames.
Five civil-righters escaped from the
Bartow, Ga., jail, and an intelligent local
paper says "neither the jailor nor the
prisoners are to blame."
Mr. Fairchild, a colored citizen, ninety-eight
years of age, disregardtd tho
wishts of his parents and got married
recently, in Columbus, Ga.
When a lady fainted recently at a 'Wis
consin party, a gentleman thought lie
could resuscitate her. He is going around
with a poultice on his eye.
There is a specter at Portsmouth, Va.,
which throws itself across the railroad
track at night as a train approaches, but
prudently get out of the way again.
A young convert down in Maine de
monstrated the force of habit be remark
ing in a conference meeting that some of
the proceedings were not "according to
Hojlc."
At a Louisville hall a waggish youth
took out the ham from tho sandwiches
and substituted slices of soap therefor.
The result may ba imagined. lie was
lathered.
Chicago cries bravo to the captain of
the tug Magnolia, who left his own house
hold goods to burn and used his boat all
night in saving lives and the property
along the dock.
Conundrum intended solely for thoao
who ave well up in Muscovite court gos
sip : Why is the Czarinc Cathaiinejlike a
bald-headed persou? Answer: Because
her heir is Grlofl'.
Josh Billings cannot see what women
want any more "rights" for; she beat
the first man born into tho world out of
a dead sure thing, and she can beat the
last one with the same cards.
Mr. Fields, in his lecture on Cheerful
ness, describes a man so shut la with
dignity and exclusivcness that when you
shake hands with hint you always feel as
if you were doing it through a knot
hole.
A Louisville negro tried to persuade
his wife she was not well enough to gn
to church one evening, and to strengthen
his argument knocked her down . and
kicked her in the head. His seal iu the
i debate cost him twenty dollars and tha
! -various charges in the court.