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ft : ) 1 Q J; 1 5 4. 'I Y i. Vr V 1 1 J 5 1 r jr if NOBTHSEH. OHIO JOJJML C. r4iliEi& ilMjr-f PMprirtOTfc : I. CHAHBS23, laitar. W.C. CEA1B223. PieHihtr. PmUlaked Every Saturday, AT PAIXESnt.LK, LAKE COVXTi; O. Counting Soon mud JuMcatn Office in Storktrfll House Mark, 114 Main St. TE11MH. Yearly, by mail or earner . . . $t 00 Six Months, by mail or carrier 1 00 Three Months, by mail or carrier 30 Jr In all cases advance payment is required. JOB DEPARTMENT. Bonk and Blank Work, Circulars, letter Heads, Bill Heads Cards and Job Work oi'every description executed with dispatch ana in the neateat stvie of the art. llnviiiR an entire new outfit of Types, Presses, and Machinery, together with a force of compe tent and skillful workmen, we feel that our fa cilities are second to those of no other establish ment in the place. If I had lain thee low in the mold, VV ith the nods ou thy fair, frank face. And prayed my prayer, and made my moan. And turned to my desolate hearth alone. To stare at my vacant place. Why I had mourned the loner hours through. With a sorrow that would notdie; Yet thinking, my lore and I, at last , When the fret and the fever of life arc past, May meet in our houie on bitch. Ifl had seen thee torn away, t Vi V ', rora this passionate love of mine. To woo another, for troth and faith, 'to give another, forlife and death. True hand and name of thine! Why had I felt though not for me To win that noble heart. 1 may watch his steadfast course afar, J may may joy in the light of my one proud star A I sit in the shade apart. But to know that our trust was baseless. To know our hope was vain, Alt, who that wakens from visioncd bliss. To truth, cold, bitter and hant a this, . Would venture to dream again. - ' ' IS THE F.VF.MU. All day the wind had howled along the leas. All day the wind hail swept across the plain. All dliv, on rustling grass and waving trees, Had 'fallen "the useful trouble of th rain." All day, beneath the low-hung, dreary sky. The dripping earth had cowered sullenly, j At last the wind had sobbed itself to rest. At last to weary calmness sank the storm; , . A crimson line g learned sudden in the west . ' ' Where golden flocks rose wavering into form. .a. nusne.l revival nerainea me nignt. And with the eveuing time awoke the light. The rosy color flushed the Ions;, gray wares, . The rosy color tinged the mountain brow. And where the old church watched she village graves. Wooed to a passing flush, the yew-trees frown Bird, beast, and flower relenting nature knew, And one-pale star rose snimmenng on tne Dine. So, to a life long crushed with heavy grief; So, to a path long darkened by despair. The slow, sad hours bring touches of relief. Whispers of hope, and strength of trustful praver. Tarry his leisure," God of love and might. And with the evening time there will be light! AM III T.EB1G. Some hearts go hungering through the world, And never And the love they seek; Some 1 ips with pride or scorn are curled To hide the pain they may not speak. The eyes may flash, the mouth may smile. The voice in gladiest mirth may thrill, And yet beueaih them nil the while Tho hungry heart is pining still. These know their doom, and walk their way, With level steps and steadfast eyes. Nor strive with fate, nor weep, nor pray While other, not so sadly wise. Are mocked by phantoms evermore. And lured by seemings ofdclight, Fair to the eye, but at the core Holding but bitter dust and blight. I see them gaze from wistful eyes, 1 mark their sign on fading cheeks, I hear them breath in smothered sight, And note the grief that never speaks; For them no might redresses wrong. So eve with pity is impearled; Oh, misisonstrued and suffering long. Oh, hearts that hunger through the world! For vou does life's dull desert hold No fountain shade, no date grove f air, Nor gush of waters clear and cold. Hut sandy reaches clear and cold . The foot may fail, the heart may fttini, . Ami weigh to earth the wearv frame. Yet still ye make no weak complaint. And speak uo fords of grief or blame. Oh, eager eyes which gaze afar! Oh, arms which clasp the empty air! Not all unmarked your sorrows are, N'ot all unpitied your despair. Smile, patient lips so proudly dumb When life s frail tent at last is furled. Tour glorious recompense shall come. Oh, I hearts that nunger tnrougu tne worm. The Missing Link. BY STANLEY CURTIS. WHAT OF IT? ' BOUT ten years ago I was pas sing through a small city in the State of New York. My errand there was one of dubi ness solely, ana nonce my sojourn was short. I arrived at eight o'clock in the eveninsr and departed at twelve. About half past eleven, as I passed through the main street on my way to the depot, 1 encountered a man with a mask, who, at the moment I met him, ' was emerging from a store. 4 Just as he stepped out nis mask dropped oft' and I caught a good nuare srlance of his lace.- it would re irrelevant to describe his personal ap pearance now. But he glanced at me Jiercely. hastily replaced his mask anu made off at a ciuick pace. I pursued my way, thinking the event rather strange, but bid not give it much attention. If. K8THF.R CORYDOJf. A year ago I came in possession of a manuscript, left by a lnnatio a female of rare beauty, it was said, who had jwst died at the age of twenty-ni ne. Her life had been a sad one. Deep sorrow In her maidenhood, disappointment in love and exoeriences of a terrible nature had unsettled her reason. She was violent at times, at other times silent and sullen while occasional lucid Intervals broke in on tier darkened mind. At these times she invarlbly spent a great deal of- time writing, and, although apparently sane, was so inexpressibly sad and weighed down bv melancholy that delirium eeemed a relief rather than a curse, This I learned of her attendants and friends. From her manuscript I have collated a story too strange, almost to be true a story of wrong and ruin, of grief and injustice, of the irresistable lorce of circumstances, ; which some times combine in strange and mysteri tiis shapes, plotting destruction to inno- tt!iit victlnio. Miss Corvdon's story is too disjointed and incoherent to give bodily ; therefore I will narrate the facts as clearly as pos ble, making only occasional quotations rom her manuscript. III. TH3 MURDER. Geoffrey Armstrong had been mur dered murdered in the dead of night, in the morning his body was found on ti.e luke shore, dlsfleured by several ugly gashes, and one deep, cruel stab in the left breastjWhich had evidently done the work. The discovery was made about ten o'clock in the forenoon. He had been missed from his usual haunts, his room was found to lie empty, and search was instituted. The. horrible discovery of his murdered body was the result, it was found by two laborers, who brought the news with pale faees. The excitement was intense. Geoffrey t rniatrnnr had muiiv friends in the thev went and vowed revenge, The eroner Was summoned, and pro ceeded with a jury fa hold an inquest NTnthino- ie.7uliar was discovered, noth- tntr w wti.ij a elue could be obtained (VAiuI the track of the murderer. Noth ing, I say, until one of the jurymen, a phvsician, closely examined the stab wilich evidently had been the fatal "Thls wound," said he, "was not made with an ordinary weapon. It could onlv have been inflicted with a knife of neiuiliar shane. Observe," said he. "The cut is flat and thin, and the kuife used must have been a Jong one nil a sharo one. for there are no bruises on the body: and nothing to indicate rhr. the knife was inserted to the hilt." He then inspected the wound minute ly- and made accurate IIU Ciuuurute nMiinrnniln. "in the flhaence of anything better. he said," these features of the case may tiwwa nf na. Var myself. 1 would vise thatevery effort be made to find that knife." The wisdom of the doctor's adviee was Emitted bv all. The knife must be i'ouud mid the murderer must suffer the on.ur his foul deed. v .; When Mias Corydon heard the news but his mean eyes and his white, c)aw--tihe was ,wiW with grief, for Geoffrey like hand. He haunted ma at the time, a rinatronir was her accepted suitor, and and no one but me recognized him. Or he Aearly loyed to. It was with lenity that she ccvUd he prevented from minfrliiur with the crowd of men and boys that gathered around the body as It 1W3 CtlTKV JflWMga W Mofi A VOLUME I. .She salMn' her'owh'roomand'EerTcilsi and bid me good-bv, as he was go-1 stony grief after a while subsided into 1 stony clmness. F.sther Cory don was an orphan and wit a schoolteacher. Her hrotlier Philip Corydon, wan a lawyer. They were the last representatives of their family, and were the sole sharers of a small estate. They were energetic, high-spirited and affectionate. Esther was rather above the medium height, had black eyes and dark hair, fair complexion and fine though firmly moulded features. Her brother was also tall, but his hair was light, and his eyes were blue. From them sparkled reso lution, courage and a proud and sen sat i ye spirit. The only subject on which he and his sister had ever disagreed was that of her marrying Geoffrey Arm strong. Armstrong was a poor artist, and Esther had confidence that his geni us would carry him successfully through life. But Philip, although he cherished no ill-feelings toward Geoffroy, looked at the matter in a more practical light, and did not regard the match as a suita ble one. His opposition was not v ta lent ; he simply gave his sister his ad vice, and hoped she would accept it. Miss Corydon had another suitor I wnora sne uiu not tove. sue naa toiu him so' several times in a very unre- served manner, but still he persecuted her with his unwelcome attentions. This suitor's name was John Rivers. People generally called him fine look ing, but there was -a lofut ' anont ni3 small, bead-like black eyes which Miss Corydon termed 'snaky.; But what ever were his good or bad qualities, Miss Corydon preferred Geoffrey Armstrong, and that was . enough. At least It should have been enough for Mr. Kivers whose plain duty it was to let her alone. But he not only did not let her alone. but he nearly pestered the life out of her, and vowed he would marry ner vet. The dead body of Geoffrey Armstrong was conveyed to his late boarding-house and there respectably laid out. rue wounds were dressed as neatly as possi ble, and preperatlons were made for the funeral. Meanwhile, the officers were discus sing the best mode of detecting the mur derer. The clue afforded did not seem to promise much, as the knife had prob ably been thrown far out into the lake, and in that case there wouiu ne no pos sibility of recovering it. Hut who had last been seen with the victim ? No one knew. He had left bis boarding-house early in the evening and gone, as he said, to the shore of the lake to sketch a moonlight scene. However, one person had been seen searching for him during tne evening, stopped at an his usual lounging places and anxiously inquiring his whereabouts. That person was 1'iiilin t orvtlon. ills manner was somewhat excited, and he appeared in great haste. jno one thought ot accusing mm oi tne crime, as his reputation was unsullied, and to associate him with such an act seemed preposterous. "But." said John Kivers, who was conversing with the officers, "where is Corydon V I haven't seen him around tnis morning. ion know ne was very much opposed to a marriage that was talked of between his sister and Arm- stroiig." ! You don't accuse him of anything, do you?" indignantly demanded a by stander. "Accuse him ? O no. But he's a good sharp lawyer, and we ought to have his advice in this case, it seems to me. ny don't somebody look for him." . . Othcers are incredulous oemgs, anu take nothing for granted. One of them had listened silently to Rivers, and was thinking in silence. He finally looked tin and said : ' . . . i, i .j "Twouldn't do no hurt, as x know oi, to look for that Corydon. It looks kind o' queer that he shouldn't be 'round, 'specially seem' he was after Armstrong so fast last night. Where's his boarding house?" On being iu formed, he started for it, followed by a parcel of men and boys of the class always on the lookout for a sen sation. He soon arrived at his destina tion, and accompanied by a brother of ficer, ascended to Corydon's room. He knocked at the door hastily. No reply, A louder knock failed to elicit any re sponse. The otlicers looked on eacn otner sig- nilicantly. ' Another knock was given with the same result. Again the offi cers peered into each other's countenau ce;, and as if by simultaneous agree ment they placed their shoulders against the door and burst its fastenings. What was that on the floor, in the middle of the floor?' And that in the corner, near a chair ? The one was a long, sharp, thin, nat- bladed knife, covered with blood, and the other was a cap, with red stains and dirt on it! The officers involuntarily started back, accustomed as they were to scenes of horror. They then scrutinized the room closely, but found nothing else unusual. The weather was very warm, and one window was raised, allowing the slight breeze to gently ruffle the light curtains. Without all was bright sunshine: within it was bright, too, out upon what a scene i rnere lay tne traces of a bloody murder.in the room of a man of hlirh standing in the community. He evidentlv had not retired to rest the night beiore, as tne Ded was. undistur bed. The people outside grew impatient at the non-appearance of the officers, and began to be clamorous. Finally one of them aoneared at the door. "Friends," said ne, "you nad necter eo home. we've made an important discovery, which may lead to the find ing ot the muraerer. rmup tjoryuon was fast after Geoffrey Armstrong last nisbt. and this morning one's dead and the other's not to be found. Besides, we've found something in Corydon's room uai lewia tu uuiuuio pupuujuiia. I'm going down town now, and you'd better do the same, for Bill's guarding the room, and you wont get any satis taction by standing here." Ho saving he started on, out only a few did likewise. "Who'll help me to find Thilip Cory don, the murerer of Geoffrey Armstrong, he cried. A louu shout went up and the whole troop followed him. Down the street thev went, murmuring anu muttering, ever and anon a ioiukt voice man tne rest giving utterance to some scnti. ment that found quick and noisy ap plause. . . Knots of men were at tne streec.cor- ners, and women hastened irom one house to another to talk over the terri ble affair. Excitement ran high, , and before noon every man, woman and child in the city knew of the murder. But I'hilip Corydon was nowhere to be found. IT. Miss corydon's narrative. That masquerade ball I never shall forget It. It was the night before the murder. I went dressed as the Queen Df Xight a character and costume very 0e0fiifinj to me. Geoffrey vas there, with simply a black mask. He did not wish to be en cumbered with a costume, as he was go ing out late in tne evening to sketch a moonlight scene, rmup would not go, acL - Business, he "am, kept him away. O. that fatal business Why did he select tfcat night? John Rjyers how can I write his name?) was there also. How he did persecute me. His character was that of a black domino, and it concealed all dif - casionally during the evening he would disappear, and at these times I felt a lief. About eleven o'clock Geoffrey came to me, unmasked, with his hook and pen- I'AHJ IHVAi II nn FAMILY PAPER, ing to the lake snore to sketch. Now, thought L, for another siege with John Kivers. nut strange to say he tint not come near ute for more than anhouf . i 1 did not see him at all during that time, and I thought he had left the hall, though 1 was not sure, as 1 caught a few I distant glances ; of a figure resembling him. Finally he approached me just as the party was breaking up, and offered bis services as an escort home. I could do nothing else than accept, as the" dancers were rapidly -dispersing. "'lo-mr sur prise and satisfaction he did not make love to me on our way home, and we separated with a simple good-night. 1 went to bed and slept soundly. ant O, what a waking the next morning ! tjreonrev murdered, his poor, mangled body and white face being gazed upon bv hundreds Of curious .eyes, and more than all my brother accused of doing the deed. . fAs the people passed through the streets 1 beard then .shouts and .-mutter-, ings, and Philip' namer was often di- ' tinguishable. What are they raving about him t thought 1. All of a sudden Mrs. Gamhee, my landlady, rushed into my room. . t ,t ' U it i if "O-Jliss Carydon:" she exclaimed, what do you suppose they are saying aboat your brother ! They have found something terrible in his room, and they think he killed poor Mr. Armstrong O, Lord a massy, what have I said ! Don't look so at me !" I did not faint, but think I must have fastened my yea on Mrs. Gam bee with a strange expression, for she appeared to be in great terror lest she had done harm by telling me the news so suddenly. I was .nearly stunned. They had found something in his room, had they, that led them to thihk he had done the murder. These words Irepeated to my self a number of times, and finally, without speakinS to Mrs. Gambee, or paying her any more attention than if sne had not Deen there, l put on my things and started for Philip's resi dence. I had a vague idea that some one tried to stop me, but I went on, regardless of any attempted intcrrapuonTaiui wautea rapidly through the streets, my face closely veiled. j .But a few recognized me, 1 believe, ana they gave me a wide berth, not caring, probably, to touch the I garments of a murderer's sister. Ji I soon arrived at r hilin's boarding- place. A dozen ragged urchins had col lected in front of the door, and were dis cussing the murder with childish wis dom and guarrlity. I ascended the steps and knocked tremulously., A man-ser vant opened tne door. is Mr. corydon in? l asked. Xo, Miss," he answered, grinning, "Do you know where he is?" o, miss, nooody don't know wnere he is. He keeps himself scarce, now, he does." "Whatdo vou mean? I am his sister. They have not gone so far as to arrest run. have thev t .- - s? t. U you're hr sister, are yon 7 I'm sorry for that. Xo, they haven't arres ted him, for the reason that thev can't find him." "Can't find him?" I echoed, "why can they not find him ? "Cause, miss, he's run away," replied the waiter. I do not believe it," I exclaimed, in dignantly." "He did" not do the deed. He would not run away. L&t me go to his room." Right up this way, ma'am. There's an officer there. : You'll have to ask him.'" : I went up stairs. ' An officer guarded the door of Philip's room and would not let me enter. I begged. He was firm. "It's my duty, ma'am," said he. "The President of the United States could not go in there now." i saw tnat it was oi no use to pieaa,auu sat down at the head of the stairs to think. To think ! O, what misery there is in thinking.Thoughts have driven me mad. If I could never think again, what a comfort it would be w-s. After sitting there for some time I was aroused by a hubbub below. -Uovs were screaming, there was a sound ot wheels approaching, and footsteps rattled on tne nave. - " - "Something ' is' up." said the officer. and he strained his neck to look out the window, but did not desert his post. The carriage stopped in rront ot tne nouse, tne iront aoor opened ana rnuip came bounding up the stairs. " w hat under - tne heaven is tne mat- ter ? " he cried. " What docs this crowd mean,- and these people following me so?" " : "O Philip !" 1 cried, springing to him, "You did not do It, did you ?" "For mercy sake,Esther,you here too? Do what?" An omcer burst in at tne aoor just then, lie advanced to my Drotner. ano said : "I arrest you, Philip Corydon, for the I murder oi ueottrey Armstrong! ' At that moment l tainted, anu can re member no more.- I was ill for six weeks, most of the time in a raving de lirium. But U, what became or my brother? I have preserved a newspaper with the account of his trial and the re port I believe is truthful. " ! ' V. '. J I THE TRIAL. ;i ' The trial of Philip Corydon took place speedily, it was very exciting, though not very lengthy, occupying only anotit three days' time in the court. A sum mary is given, taken from the news paper found among Esther's documents. The counsel lor tho prosecution pre sented the following DOints l. ueonrey Armstrong had Deen mur dered on the night of the 28th ot Septem rer. ittif . ?v 2. Philip Corydon had been seen by several, the evening before, searching for Armstrong, Once he had gone to the lake shore, the place where the body nau oeeu iound 3. Corydon had left town late on the night of the murder, and the next morn ing a knife and a cap had been found in his room stained with blood. 4.' it was known that Corydon seri ously objected to the contemplated mar riage of his sister to Armstrong, anil on the evening ne was searching lor Arm strong his manner betrayed excitement and agitation. Dr. Brown was called, and testified that the wounds which caused the death of the murdered inaO i-oould have been inflicted only with a knife correspond ing in description exactly with that found in Corydon's room. Max Strauss, a dealer in tovs, masks and curiosities,, testified that on. the night of the murder,' about half past eleven o'clock, he was sitting in his store, when he heard a knock at the door. On opening it a man with a mask entered and inquired for a sword. Wit ness had no sword, but sold him a long, flaib-bladed knife, which the man said would do he wanted it for a character he was going to personate. . The knife found in Corydon's room was shown to witness, and he identified it as the one he had sold. ' He also thought the cap found, in Corydon's room was the same one worn by the person who purchased the knife. . Witness could not identify the mask worn by the person, as it was of a very common style, similar to twen ty or more he had sold during the week. sucn was tne siiDstance ot tne testi mony given and tbe points presented on the side Of t he prosecution, The defence submitted the following ' The prisoner was a man of hieh char acter J if the community, and of known good trajts as a pit jtenv Thaty af though he was opposed to his sister's njarfiiige to Geoffrey Armstrong, his dislike to the latter diu not partake or the character or violent hatred, and was altogether In sufficient on which to found an accusa tion of that kind. The prisoner could not HERN DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, SCIENCE, PAIXESVIL.L.E, LAKE COUNTY, OHIO, SATURDAY, JUNE 22, account for the knife and cap being in his room. They must have been placed there by some other party, in order, to direct suspicion in the wrong direction. The prisoner admitted that he had searched for Armstrong the night pe fore the murder, and he wished to see him on private basiness. But he had left town . without seeing him, and the fact that he returned the next day ought to be proof of his innocence. hen asked why he left town so late at night, prisoner replied that his time waai : precious, anu by leaving at' that hour he could do business early in the morning and return by noon, which he did. . .. .. His business; was connected with Arm strong, and that was the reason he had wished to see him before leaving, said business was of such a natures that it would be of no avail in the defence, and hence prisoner declined to mention it. uch was the substanee or the points made and elaborated upon by the re spective counsel. Able and eloquent speeches were made on both sides, and the judge charged the jury impartially. lhe large audience was agitated Dv conflicting emotion ; first, the . general esteem in which the prisoner was held ; second, the al the almost overwhelming evi- deuce against him. The verdict was awaited almost breathlessly. . , , The prisoner was round guilty or man slaughter and sentenced to hard labor in the State Prison for the term of ten years. VI, - MISS COBYDON'8 HABJtiTTVE. When I recovered from my illness my brother was in prison. I looked over the accounts of the trial. "Fools!" thought I. "Why do you say my broth er Is guilty of manslaughter ? . He is either guilty of murder, or he is inno cent. If he" killed Geoffrey Armstrong, it was a devilish, cold-blooded murder. But you doubted It. You knew he could not do such a thing. You wanted to convict someoody, though, and so you declared my poor brother guilty of man slaughter." itut ne was innocent. ' ' tie never aid the deed. , As soon as I was strong enough I made preperations for a jour ney, i would go to the prison ana see Philip. With a dreary heart and a mind cloud- ed with trouble, I got my clothes in or ler and made preparations to go., une evening, when I was sitting in my room despondent and gloomy, a knock was heard at the iront door. xne servant said a gentleman had called to see me. In a listless manner I gave directions that be might be shown in. John Rivers was usherodinto my presence. -- ' i shall never lorget mv leeiingson be holding him. - All the dreadful memor ies of the last sad two months rose up before me, thickly and oppressively. My brain was a. heavy lump of lead. But in the midst of all my wretchedness rose the thought, "that man is my enemy!" He stood looking at me, with his small, bright eyes, black and insinnatng, in a manner questioning ana dotibtiui. He seemed to wish to read my thoughts. Before, he had been onlv an acquain tance who had made himself disagreear- bly intimate a rejected lover a disap pointed suitor who evidently wished to remain a friend but. now, I could not help it, he seemed like an enemy an in truder on my rights and a destroyer of my happiness.--i.t was tne nrst time i had seen him since the murder. 'Miss Esther," said he. "I make bold to call on yon; for I hope we are friends as we used to be beiore the tne great misfortune that has come over us." He spoke in a low tone, with an attempt to be subdued and sympathetic in nis man ner. The character did not suit him wen for his brieht eves sparkled and snapped as if they would give the lie to his pre tensions. .. . ,. , This is an - wiexpected honor, Mr Rivers," I replied, coldly. "Will you take a seat?" He sat down and rubbed his thin hands. - . - Ah, Miss Esther." he said, "it is daily demonstrated that this world is but vale of tears. The happiest of ns dark days, ' and the -most confident are often doomed to meet with disap pointments. .He spoke with a satisfied air, as if this speech were a triumph of eloquence that should set him up in my opinion. True," was the only response l could make. Yes, Miss Esther, human beings who seem perfect otten carry sorrow to tne heart of their friends, by appearing in their true characters.' I was in no mood for conversation and did not reply, I "But," he continued, "our duty is not 1 to mourn and pine away, we should I rather cast aside sorrowful memories, and look about us for new associations, making ourselves and those around us happier." Sorrow and diserace are- not easily forgotten, or set aside, Mr. Rivers." "Ah, but it is a fault of the world's leople that they associate the guilt of one with the muocence of another, ion should not bear the disgrace of yonr brother's.cn that is to say his imprison ment." ' That was a cruel stab, and he knew it. He would have said 'my brother's crime' if he had dared. Mr. Rivers," I replied, with dignity you should know that such conversation is painful to me. i ou certainly will do me the kindness to dismiss the sub ject." ' ;,;-!.!-,.;" ' Certainly, Miss Esther, lie replied But I wanted to say - to you that you must consider me yourfiend, and call on me for any assistance you may re quire. If people should turn a cold shoulder to yon, why, just remember that John Kivers will always remain i true friend, and rejoice in any opportu nlty to serve yor. He remained tor a while longer, sus taining a conversation almost entirely unaided by me, for I was sick at heart, and longed for him to go. At last he took ms departure, nuiding me good night, and protesting his friendship. two days alter I went to see my Drotn er. : l cannot descrine our interview, The disgrace had told terribly on him He never could look the world in the face again, he said. He looked thin and pale, and I thought he was not well. He told me ahout the business that had call ed him away that night. it was an af- lair connected withGeonrey Armstrong, He wanted to look over certain record! by which Geoffrey thought he could prove his claim to some property he had neen cheated out of years hetore. But he found that he would need certain memoranda, and so returned early next day in order to see ueottrey. tint Ueot frey was dead, and no one hut he could testily to this. "I feel that I cannot live ten years in this place," said Philip, at one time du- ring the interview; ;;:-?- -:i ? -t I left him with a heart almost dead ened, but with a spirit to dare and to do anything in order to discover tlic real mnrderer aud set my brother free. But what could I, a helpless girl, do? The world believed my hrother guilty, and no ono would look with encourage ment - on any efforts I might make to prove mm innocent. "' However, I made up my mind to se cure the service of some able lawyer,and let him watch, in a quiet, unobstrusive manner, tor some clue by which to dis cover the real murderer. - So one evening I went to Mr. Finch, shrewd little man, who saw everything in a minute, when' he chose, and who could observe without being observed. t talked with him an hour, and at the end of that time, I believe, convin ced him of Philip's innocence, and had im i)Qi-ougniy intoioswa in my case. ' But we were not to be known to be I Communication, - If eithep discovered anything the other was to be informed by letter. So we parted, my heart strangely buoyant. Yet there seemed to OHIO be a dead weight within me, dragging me back, and a voice dully whispering that all my labor would in the end come to naught. ' I had to force this feeling back, and summon all the resolution of my nature to drive away despair. Yes, bad an end in life now. an object to be accomplished, in which my whole be- ng was enlisted. I used to often walk on the lake shore and wander about the gravelly ibeach here the dreadful scene was enacted. Through cold weather and chilly winds wouid venture, and watch the waves as they rolled high and seemed to be try ing, to wash oft' the stain left by the1 blood of my Geoflrey . , O, poor - boy, to be struck and cut till you were dead ! The beach was two or three rods wide. and then the land rose abruptly and was thickly covered with trees and bushes. Among these I would sit, in a measure protected from the wind, and watch and think. I knew not what the charm was that drew me there. Sometimes I went to get rid of John Rivers, for he visited me frequently, and I never was glad to , see him. But he would come, and he j often opened anew the wounds which had been inflicted on my spirit, and which could never sear over. If he had been kind,, or considerate, or really the true friend he pretended to be, he would not have done this. , One eveninsr I was sittlne in a larere rocking-chair, by the fire, feeling tired. Ill and drowsy. I was almost asleep, hen, by a sudden impulse X rose and wandered down to Uhe shore, and was soon seated among some bushes, looking out upon the water.. A.s 1 was sitting there musing, 1 heard a footstep on the gravel, and looking around saw John Rivers approaching. ' My heart gave a leap, for f thought he had come to seek me. But he soon stopped, looked out over the water, and as I became certain that 1 was not what had brought him there, I gave a subdued sigh of relief. lie had stopped on the exact spot where the murder was committed. Af ter standing for a few moments he looked around mall directions as if to be satis fied that he was alone. He then stepped back and appeared to be looking; at some Imaginary object. Then he stepped stealthily forward and, looking at a par ticular spot, made a violent motion as if striking some object.: Then springing back he gesticulated wildlv. as if Bunt ing with a phantom. , Finally he exten ded his arm with a sudden lunge, and turned and . ran about a rod from the spot. Then , he covered his face with his hands for a raoment.and after a min ute or two approached the spot of his singular pantomine and bent over, as if examining some object on the ground. He remained in this position as if trans fixed, and I, drawn by a mysterious and irresistable impulse, approached the spot also. He did liot hear or see me, yet 1 stood close to him. Horror of hor rors! There lay on the ground, in a dim, phantom-like shape, a human form, covered with bloody wounds. From one deep wound in the breast projected a long knife. I looked at tbe face: there upward and pale, with death-throes agi tating the features, was the countenance of Geoffrey Armstrong ! At that moment rtivers looked up. ms eyes met mine. "Murderer!" I cried, "yon are not alone!" : . Suddenly a new sensation came over me. A bright light was before my eves. warm fire was beside me. and I was sitting in my chair, waking from a doze, into which I had fallen. "O, what a dream!" I exclaimed, and arose just in time to receive Mr. Rivers, whom the servant was ushering into the room. "i-araon me, Jliss JSstner," he said, I thought I heard you scream lust as I entered. Are yon ill r" I was agitated, the dream having af- lectea me strongly. " 'f4Afv1iranin rr "MV Ptraiw ' ' T Daiil Did I scream ? 1 had such a dreadful dream." Indeed!" said he: "and may I ask what was its nature?" O yes," I replied. . "I am so used to horrible thoughts that I am very stoical about such things. The dream was a very singular and a very terrible one, out i win ten it to you, it you wish.' l do not know what spirit came over me, lor l was not only willing, but was absolutely itching to tell that dream to jonn Kivers. I would paint It in glow ing colors, and tell it to him with all my eloquence. But I did not men tion his name. I told it all but that, and then said : It was terrible, Mr. Rivers. Ah, how distinctly the face of that man is pictured to my mind, as he looked up irom tne pnantom body and his eyes met mine. His face was pale, his eyes small and black, his eyebrows heavy, his mustache let black and luxuriant, his cheeks rather sunken, with a small brown mole on the upper Jpart of the leitone." He sprang from his chair. His cheeks were paler, if possible, than usual ; he looked at me steadily for a moment, his eyes darting lightning flashes. " sou have described me!" he said, at length. "I know it," said I. After a pause he walked to the door. put nis hand on the knob, held it there for a moment resolutely, and then came back and sat down again. "Well," said he, "that was a very singular dream," 'Very, l replied, and then continued bent on torturing him: "Thev say that when a man commits a murder there is an irresistable fascination which leads him to visit the spot afterwards." "IttVMl p-raeions! What do von mean?" he exclaimed, In a violent manner "What do vou mean. Mr. Kivers ?" asked, drawing myself up. "I am not aware that there is any necessity for get ting excited." O no, certainly not," he said, forcing a laugh. "Pardon me if I have offended you." The conversation lagged after this, as nau no desire to continue it, ana ne seemed to lose his command of fine somiliner words and nh rases. He soon departed, after making a few common place remarks. The next morning I sent the following note to Mr. 1'inch : "Nov. 20th. "Watch John Kivers. If you com municate to me, call him Fald. E. C, During the next four weeks I received two notes from Mr. Pinch. They read as follows : NO. I. "Fald shore." frequently walks to the lake NO. H, 'Fald has a visitor apparently an in timate friend. They go together on the lake shore. They have rented a private room in a block belonging to me." I cannot say that I suspected John Kivers ot having murdered Geoffrey Armstrong. itnt that dream made deep impression on my mind, and found my thoughts involuntarily wan- leering in a channel indicated by the aoove correspondence with Mr. I'lnch I would watch John Rivers, at any rate Had he not tried to marry me? Was he not in a great rage when I refused hhn Now, that Qeqfjrey was dead, dd ho not nearly persecute all patience out or me It was a terrible crime to accuse one of without good foundations. Yet I did not mean to accuse him of it I only meant to find out all about him, and know what there was of my dream if anything. Mr. find), J thought, would not en courage me in prying into .John Jfiver'i actions, and so, without saying anvthlu to him, I took a careful survey of the premises where Rivers had rented room, and found out that there were several vacant, unfurnished apartments adjoining eacn otner, and that his room was one pf these, I obtained a key that wouiu nt tne iock oi me quo next his and resolved tofpjay the eayedropper tut tew vvouLiig;, AGRICULTURE, AND GENERAL NEWS. What a course was this for a young girl, supposed to be modest and respecta ble. But who was I? In the eyes of the world I was a murderer's sister, with nothing to lose, and every thing to gain in character . and standing. 1 might have abandoned the place and gone to some distant point, where my history was not known, and I could ocenpy a respectable position in society. But no, : had au object in life, and that was to prove my brother's innocence. Until this was accomplished reputation and tanding was nothing to me, , bo, evening alter evening, about six 'clock, when business men were gone to tea, and I was comparatively secure from observation, I walked down street, and made my way, unknown to a single soul, to my solitary room in Mr. Pinch's block. Here I would sit, bundled up closely for protection against , the cold, and watch through a small aperature in , wall the proceedings of John Kivers and his friend. . Most of their time was spent playing cards, - and. sometimes friends were brought in to join the games. Once in a while small sums of money changed hands, but never to any great amount. , ; sometimes Kivcr and his friends would sit down after they ; were through play ing, with a - box of cigars between them, 'and hold lengthy conversations. 1 then would hear vague allusions, as I thought, to me. The converstlon would run as follows : Why in the deuce dou't you marry her.Rivers?" Hang it, man, if a girl won't have you, what are you going to do." ; w ny, try the arts or skillful persua sions, and overcome her objections, to be sure." "Yes,but that won't always go down .' There was nothing in this to repay me for my trouble, and I once almost re solved to give up my lonely night- watches. ,-! . But lust about this time I received word that my brother's "health was fail ing, and this maddened--me so that I watched and listeued more intently than before. Not that I really expected to accomplish anything,- but I took a grim delight in sitting there through tbe long nights, and thinking how sweet revenge would be if I should discover anything to materially aid me in my undertak- o tne time went on. perseverance has its reward, and I was to have mine, One night I heard something that set the blood thrilling through my veins like a shock of electricity. Kivers and his mend had been play ing cards and drinking. Rivers had drank moderately, but his friend grew excited and gorrtilons.- lie talked and prated with a singular mixture ot good and ill humor. - "O, you miserable fellow." said he you ought to marry that girl now. If you don't, you know it wouldn't hardly pay." -" . .;-;-: "What wouldn't pay? if you mean it wouldn't pay to marry her, von -are about right, for she's got the devil in her and besides her fortune is not half what supposed it was." . ' - "O, is that so? Then I'm sorry I bad anything to do with it. : . By George It was an ugiy joo:" i - v. - " w hat are you talking about v.. t "Devilish ugly ! How did you feel when it was done?" "When what was done? You talk like a fool." . "Ah, it's very well to talk like that. But we're alone now, what's the dif ference? I tell you I get so crazy think ing about it that I must talk to some body, and if it isn't you it will be some one else." - Well, talk then, and get through- said Rivers, in a voice full of impatience and contempt, "but don't you blat to any one else." O no. Yon can trust me for that. But just think of it" . "1 don't want to think of it!" : "Just think of it, I say two innocent men " "Shut no. will vou ?" roared Rivers, "Don't be so infernal cross to a fel low. . But that knife and cap did the work, didn't it? I tell you, you must marry her now, after all that." .--".- Kivers was on his feet and had seized huge stick of wood that lay by the stove. He raised it aloft. "Another word out of your mouth,and I'll put you beyond uttering any more!" nis eyes were two living coals and his lace was a picture ot rage. "Don't kill him too:" 1 cried, in warning voice, from my place of con cealment. The effect was electrical. The drun ken man was sober ; the sober man drop ped his billet ot wood and turned tne color of ashes. Both stared at 'each other with a dazed look. I waited 'io longer, but noiselessly left the building and proceeded rapidly home. It was eleven o'clock, and my light was burning low. : 1 entered with a night key, without disturbing any one and wended my way to my own room. l was in a state or terrible excitement, My brain was all of a whirl, and my thoughts ran wild with each other. ... O, had I discovered the real mnrderer? Was my brother to be set free, and again be an honored citizen ? I was dizzy and faint with excitement and anticipation I would see Mr. Pinch to-morrow. and we would push things to a glorious end. But what a visitation of woe awaited me! It is said that the darkest hour comes just before dawn. It is also true. sotnetimes.tbat when hope seemsbright est the deepest disappointment is im mediately at hand. - un tne table, just Reside the tamp, lay telegram directed to me. I hastily opened it and read the following: . J$y telegraph from prison to Esther Corydon; Philip Corydon died this afternoon at live o'clock, trom a sud den sinking away tbe result of a linger ing illness.'' , : ; Darkness seemed to envelope me. A heavy, oppressive feeling took posses sion of me, which 1 tried in vain to shake off. At last my desperate struggle found vent in a long, loud scream, l heard rushing Round, was conscious of a strug gle, and lortnwirn relapsed into eonuu sciousness. - When I awoke I was in a small room lying on a bed. Everything was strange No one was in sight,and 1 slowly looked around me. There was no furniture except a stand, and a chair which seem ed to be fastened firmly against tbe wall, The bedstead was of irqn. J looked up at a small window, which was protected without by iron hars, And, what looked stranger than all. the walls of the room were thickly padded all over. I sat up in tne pea. l tried to rise, but was bound fast. Just then a woman entered the room Seeing me, she gave a start, and imme diately ordered me to lie down. obeyed, involuntarily, and asked where l was. "There now," she said, peremptorily. "ne quiet and don't get excited." t x looked at her in wonder. . She re turned the stare curiously, and approach ing me, said ; "How do you feel ?" "Weak, very weak," I replied ; ?'but tell me where I am, and what these cords are about my limbs for?" She gazed at me for a moment, and tnen started on with tne words: , "I'll go and see the doctor!" This seemed very strange to me. felt over the bed, and took un a hand kerchief that my hand came in contact with.- It was marked In the corner "Esther Corydon." iThe sight of my name brought everything back to me. . !0, O !" I cried, as tle recollections of those dreadful events rushed upon me. It was more than I could bear, and witn a scream t sank oae into uucpn sciousqess. I have now been In - asylum eight OUKRAL. 1872., .1 ... I :.,V f ,, - year3. ,1 am crazy most of tbe Ume.they j teu me, but J am not now. . I am tem porarily sane. These periods come three I or four times a year. In them I have written out my life history. It is a ter rible tale of .wrong, r But who . would listen to the charges of a maniac? I have Jtried the doctor several times, but he never, will talk to me on the subiect. jnese days ot sanity, which come over me, are almost unbearable. ,. I write to relieve my mind. For I can't help thinking of my sad history, and thought tome is distracting., - Memory brings nothing but sorrow with it, and con templation oi tne past is misery. , 7 u, now i. long lor tne relief or deliri-; um.- Then 1 may rave, and forget in frenzy all my woes. O welcome mania! Let me forgot myself in vour oblivion and drown grief in madness ! , : .. . ' VII. ' , THE MISSING LINK. , , I have completed the preceeding story from: Miss Corydon's manuscript, be cause the facts related possessed for me strong interest.' This -wlll be under stood when: i state a fact connected with the incident mentioned in Part I. of this narrative. The features of the man coming out of the store, which Were re-1 yealed'by his mask drooping1 off, im pressed themselves strongly on my mem ory. His-face Was pale, his eyes small and 'blacky ttla mustache jet black and luxuriant,' his" cheeks rather sunken,' with a small brown mole on the upper part of the left one. ' . . . Kut tne next day 1 was hundreds of miles away, and still travelling rapidly. ANECDOTES OF PUBLIC MEN. , BV COL. J W. FORNEY, i : ' , V ,'olxxiii.. .. Philadelphia Was honored by a nation al convention in the shape of the Colon ial Coneress: which, ninety-six vears ago next 4th of July, proclaimed Amer ican independence. The body wnicn is to assemble at the Academy of Music, Wednesday," June 5, will be one of the only three that gave practical expression to the ideas ox the Declaration. , w hue slavery existed no national convention of any party could consistently plead for freedom. And as the years rolled on, the fetter Of the bondmen were more closely riveted, and the chains of the po litical leader made heavier, mow an is in harmony with the protest and proph- cy of Thomas' Jefferson and his compat riots. : Thousands will be present who never saw Philadelphia; and if they will trace the growth of their country in the growth of the City of Brotherly Love, they will study American history on the spot where American liberty was oorn. iney win walk tne streets troa by Washington. They will ' see the places described by Franklin in his in comparable autobiography. . They will be taken to the spot where he was buried, They will realize where "John Hancock, Samuel Adams, John Adams, Koger Sherman, Alexander Hamilton, Robert Morris, Andrew -Jackson, delegates or Senators in Congress, Cabinet Ministers- financiers,', etc., lived in those, trying times; and as they follow up the pro gress or events trom their source they will better understand why President Grant is to-day the strongest public man in America. Discounted by the acci dents, and,, if you- please, the errors of all men in his position, , you find the great tact remaining, tnat he is the only man who ever had tne lull opportunity, and seized that opportunity boldly, to prove his devotion to .tne principles of the Declaration of Independence. With out anything like a party record, and without tbe slightest pretension, he has grasped the whole situation, with all its obligations, anu nas Deen as true to ad vanced republican' doctrines, as these have been crystal ized by experience, as if he had made that species of philoso phy, a study, rne danger nas always been' that those earliest in defending great truths become hypercritical as they grow ofd. Grant's rare merit is that he accepts a fact proved by trial; incorpo rates it into his administration. In this respect he resembles George Washington Washington never was a political exper imenter. He never reveled in theories. He was not carried away by visionary hopes of human perfectibility. . He wrote little and spoke less. And yet, as President, he executed the laws, kept the peace between Hamilton and Jeller son, bore with the eccentricities or John Adams, and never lost his temper when Thomas Paine and Philip Francis Fre- nau hurled their biterest shafts against his private character. I need not elabo rate the parallel, l ou nave Grant be fore you, and can do it without my aid. Twenty-tour hundred years or human effort, revolution, and ambition may be studied in the remains ot ancient, and the triumphs of modern Rome. With the torch of our new intelligence we light up and restore the memories of those almost rorgotton centuries, railroad to Pompeii !" savs that fasci nating writer, George . Halliard, of Boston, In nis charming book, " Six Months In Italy" " It seemed appropri ate to be transported from the living and smiling present to the heart or tbe dead past by the swiftest and most powerful wings that modern invention has fur nished." our ono century or govern ment discloses, wonders and trophies of another kind. The world has gone for ward with the speed of magic, and as we turn back ror a moment to contemplate what habeen done in that cycle, what better aid could we have to illuminate our path than the living lessons of the city of Philadelphia, as taught by the men or the Kevoiution, whose posterity can even yet recall their features, and rejoice with us among the magnificent harvest of the seed which they planted ninety-six years agor - . . ' " 7 JHAZZINI'S PHILOSOPHY. Life is a mission, - Every ' other de- finition of life is false, and - leads all who accept it astray. Religion, science, philosophy, though : still at variance upon many -points, ail agree in this. thatevery existence is an aim. Were it not so or what avail were the move ment, the progress, which all are be ginning to recognize as the law of life Ana that aim is one : to deveiope and bring iuto action all the faculties which constitute and lie dormant in human nature Humanity, and cause them harmoniously to- combine toward the discovery and application of that " law But individuals, according to the time and space in which we live, have various secondary aims ait under the direction or anu governed ny the one ' musrpe and permanent aim ; and all tending to the constant and 'further development and association of the collective faculties and forces. - For one man, this second ary aim may be to aid In the moral and intellectual improvment of the few iin mediately around him; ror another gifted with superior faculties, or placed lu more favorable circumstances, the sec ondary aim is to promote the formation ora Nationality: to reiorm thel so cial condition of a people i to solve political qr religious question . Our own than five conturles ago, he spoke of the great sea or ueing upon which all ex istence were led by power divine to ward different ports.' Mankind Is youn yet, both in knowledge and power, an a tremendiious uncertainty still hangs oyer the determination of the special aims to which we are bound to devote ourselves. An Indian matron has tied from her home, ; presumably becauso she could no longer bear her ; husband name, which is HeUtsh. She wanted him to assume her mother title, but logically argued that it woulden't mend matters to give up his sires infernal pa ironymie anu take tnatoi nis dam. NUMBER SO. .. ! '-s : lu'l J.'i -;: "'r.?" v' . CBI9IES AHD CASTALTIES, j adoiii eigne days since, wniie en camped ax Mia iiuwsm Kprmg, on tne El Paso road, one hundred and ; fifty miles above this place, a train of wag ons and about fifteen persons were at tacked by about sixty redskins, six or eight deserters (negro soldiers) and sev en Mexicans. It was about 13 o'clock M. Some of the men were cooking, some lolling in the pleasant shade, oth ers attended to various duties, and all in state of lazy carelessness, when, like a thunderbolt, the fiendish yell of the say ages deadened every heart with terror. Before the panlc-strcken teamsters could collect their scattered thoughts and arms the Indians had ridden among them, se cured all but two, and continued utter ing exulting shrieks like gorgons of de vastation. -After thus having secured the now despairing teamsters, they prc- ceeded to pillage the . contents of the agons. ; To their great delight they found a quantity of arms and ammuni tion, which they appropriated to their use. They took a few articles of mer chandise with which the wagons were principally loaded, for the use of their sable recruits and Mexicans. They then rolled the wagons together, carefully tied their victims under the wagons, piled wood around and set fire to the pile. They remained with diabolical stolidity till the death throes of the tor tured teamsters ceased to greet their ears nen tner deliberately collected tneir mules and spoils with the dignified air of conquerors. A letter from McKinney, Texas, de scribes the horrible execution there of Stephen Ballew. a notorious ruffian, who had mnrdercd a youth named James Golden for money, and afterward mar ried the victims sister. The prisoner was taken from the wagon by the sher iff and led up to the gallows. His face wore a sullen and cold blooded iook as he sat there calmly smoking a cigar, bile the clergymen were performing the service, showing most dogged indif ference. After a few short prayers, of which the prisoner took no notice, the Sheriff advanced and announced that the prisoner had nothing to say, having pos itively declined to utter a single word. Ballew was then informed that his time had come when he got down . from the railing npon which he had been perched advanced towards the Sheriff with a sneer, and with a devil-may-care indiff erence lowered his head in order to allow the sheriff to r.ronerlv adinst the rone. After the black cap had been drawn the Sheriff knocked the prop from under tne trap, and uaiiew was swinging in mid-air. The fall failed to break his neck, as was seen 1 by his convulsive struggles. After swinging fifteen min utes, during which time the prisoner made desperate efforts to free himself it was ascertained that the noose was so looseas to admit air iuto his lungs. The assembled crowd were unanimously in favor of a second banging, and were not slow, in demanding it. The cattle drovers and backwoodsmen could be heard above- the - confusion shouting, ' Give the villain anotherdose;" "Shoot ous other ejaculations of similar tenor. Women fainted, and a scene oi the wildest excitement ;ensned. The Sher iff regained the platform, and, by a de termined eJlorts ot ms assistents, tne half-huns man was raised, the noose tightened, and amid shouts Ballew was swung ou a second time, and in thirty minutes was pronounced dead. aBUew was , one of the most notorious desper adoes in the State and is kuown to have murdered a number of men. ; - - - Smile Andre, aged forty ' years a Frenchman Jiving at No, 339 EastTwen- ty-nrst street,' A e w York, snot ana in stantly killed his wile iieoiiia,- at tne corner of First' avenue and Fifteenth street. The murderer was arrested by Officer Kennedy of the seventeenth pre cinct, and locked np at that station The body ot his wire was sent to tne morgue. The iollowmg are tne paticu- lars as the case 18 teamed trom the hus band, who is locked np in the station- house. ' It apiicars that about nine -years ago Krnile Andre, who was then em ployed as an overseer of laborers at Sar reboure. Meurthe. t rance married ie- onie Pirre. who was at that time a bux om French woman. About two years ago he lost his work and as the war had devastated France, they concluded to come to this country, which they did. After arriving in New York Tie found it difficult to get work, as he could not speak Fngllsh, and as a last resort had to go up to Danbury, Conn., where he went to work making charcoal. ' After saving a little money at this business a trtencrin Jiew YorK wrote to Andre, tell ing him to come back and he could get work. Andre returned to this city with his family, but failed to get the promised worlc, and had to taKe whatever odd jobs be could find among his own countrymen to Keep his ramily irom starving, it may here be added that two children boy and a girl, were born to them : the Josephine, being eight years old nt the present time, and the boy, xjeon tour years old.- Andre and his family were all living at this time in Pavonia aveue, Jersey City, in very indignant circum stances. Alter returning to inis city trom Connecticut, Anure and nis laruuy made the aqualntance of Lucicn A.Tar- tiene, a French inventor, who was ma king patent bricks, and who was con sidered by the unfortunate man as one or his most intimate mends, as ne con stantly wrote letters of condolence aud sympathy to both, promising to do all in his power for them, iii January last Andre was stricken down wtth small-pox, and subsequently removed to the hospital, wnera ne rematnedun til April 5, when he was discharged as cured. He soon learned that his . wife had been unfaithful . to her marriasre vows, and constantly charged her with it.and at times entreated her to be true to him. She listened with a deaf ear to all his entreaties, however, and they separated, tbe wife coming to Aew York to live.and the husband going to work at the l--rle Kail road depot as a laborer, On the 21th of May his wife took the two children to No. 339 Fast Twenty- nrst Brreet.wnere xarciene soon ioiiowed and engaged a room adjoining Andre's wife, at which place u usaid they were intimate. Andre states ttiac ne several times called on his wife and endeavored to have her return to him, and he would forgive all, but she constantly refused iu which action she was seconded bv Tarueuc, who was always - present at these meetings, Audre then had a doc ument drawn un by a lawyer for a sep aration, aud called on his wife, whom lie found at the residence of Emma Vneher at fo,4l3 Kast fifteenth, street and requosted her to go with him before t he French consul and sign it. , His wife read the document and refused to sign it, staling ii was not worm tne paper was written lou. Anuro made some threatening remarks, and his wife be coming alarmed tied from the house pur sued by her husband. She ran toward First avenue, where slid was caught by her husband, who drew a single-barreled msfoi aud placing the muzzle under h ear tired, killing her instantly. He did not make any attempt to escape, and was soon after arrested. Upon being taken to the station-house he stated that he did not care if thov cut his head off then, as he thought he had done just right, In his iwssesslon were found the pistol, with a lot of small bullets and caps, and about a dozen letters written by Tartiene to his wife and himself. After being placed in the cell he wrote the following letter to a Mr. Donanneau No, 1-18 Grand street: You know my wife's conduct. I have killed her on account of her con duct alone. I beg yon to serve my Children in the best manner you can, and this will be by sending them to France. Emu.b Axebi." The body of the murdered woman was removed to the morgue, and the coroner notified. ADVERTISING RATES. ONE INCH IN SPACE MAKES A BQOAKK. space. 1 w. S w. 8 vc. 8 m. 6 m. 1 jr. 1 square. 41.00 $9.00 $3.50 $5.5 $8.00 $19.00 S squares 1.75 8.0U 6.85 7.UU 1S.00 17.00 8 squares ju .4.00 ,6.00 &50 15.00 88.00 IsquMM-s S.25 S.0O t.00 10.00 17.00 -sam) 5 squares. 3.7:. 5.50 8.75 11.00 18.50 88.00 H column 4.50 7.00 10.00 14.00 82.00 87.50 y, column 6.85 8.00 -18.0ft 18.50 85.00 45.00 S, column 8.00 18.50 16.50 81.00 35.00 65.110 V column 10.50 18.00 83.00 35.00 55.00 90.00 1 column I8.0U 80X0 80.00 47 .50 75.00 130.00 Business notices in local columns will be charg ed for at the rate of 15 cents per line for first insertion and eight cents per line for each sub sequent insertion Business cards 1.83 per line per annum. Yearly advertisers discontinuing their adver tisements before the expiration of theircontracM will he charged according to the above rates. Transient advertisements must invariably be paid for in. advance Bffrular :advrtiseincnts to be paid at the expiration of each quarter. Very Sickley Our Spanish diplomacy. A city that soots people Pittsburgh. Fact You can't make corn-starch of toe-corns. ; .... . Dry Details The , provisions of the liquor law. . . . .. s .. Oxford University celebrates its one thousandth anniversary this year. The book to which reference is most frequently made the pocket-book. Does a cow's tail resemble a swan's breast? Yes, for they both grow down. . It is said that especially during the racing season, Mr. Grant prefers studs to Schurz., " Time cuts down all," but the ' gar dener occasionally retaliates by cutting The boy who undertook to ride a horse-radish, is now - practicing on a saddle of mutton. An irresponsible steam whistle at Green, Wis., blew three . hours before it could be shut off. The busy hum of the first Methodist camp meeting of the season has just been heard in Minnesota. , ,:.., The "seventeen-year", locusts have made their annual reappearance in Ken tucky and Tennessee. A man who has repeatedly tried them, says that all . the short cuts to fortune are horribly over-crowded. , We suppose that there is quite as large an amount of "craft" upon the land as there is upon the water. A vigorous rounsr sexton in Onellka. Ga., lately pulled the church bell down, and came near ringing his own knell in the operation. -! i ; . " Academy, of Billiards " is the latest. University of Base Ball " next, and . possibly "National Institute for Instruc tion in Marbles." ' If there Is really a delightfully refresh ing scene on this earth, it is a newly married man sliding toward home with his first washboard. , ., . , Miss Anthony is reported, for the first time in her life, to have been "quite unmanned " since her unKlnd reception at the Cincinnati Convention. The locust eggs are poisoning the mulberries in Tennessee by being depos- , ited in them, and tne mulberries are poisoning children by the same process. Titus Pompoulus Atticus Bibb is what they named him, and he lived in Ken tucky. Now that he is grown up he signs his name, for short, T. P. Atticus I5ibb. .. ...... . , , ; Who can have any respect for a man who, on passing the laundry and seeing the girls at work, will consent to make such a remark as " Wring" out, wild belles?" ,. ' ... i!t A hase-ballist last week found it nec essary to knock one of his fingers into splinters, beiore he could satisty him self that another person was an equally good 'catch." ' . c--, ;j .-., A physician stopped at the door of a country apothecary and enquired for a pharraacopaea. " Sir,", said the apothe cary, i" I know of no such farmer living about these parts. - ' A gentleman registered at a hotel in Louisville recently as John Blank, Ham- burgh, and was gratified in seeing his name in type, among tne hotel registry, as John Blank, humbug." A correspondent writes to tne isaiti- more Sun, " that he takes no stock in the 'new women's club.' " He says that " the 'old woman's club' is enough for him, and frequently almost too much." " ' "" ' 1 Mother Goose is not an imaginary per son.. She was the mother-in-law oi a ni in ter in 'Rocihrin. Mass and her real name was Elizabeth Goose. The first edition of her well-known rhymes was sold for two coppers on Devonshire street. The discrepancy between the financial exhibits of the different branches of the government is explained by the suppo sition t hat Mr. Boutwell, when he finds Hint Vila niwnmira PAnnnc eftsilv ' hf squared, puts them down in round num bers. . ,. i .- " .. ' :' iii!... Rehearsals of fashionable wedding cer emonies have for some time past been in vogue, and now it is said that the lead ing sexton and undertaker of the ton is trying to devise some means by which fashionable funerals may be rehearsed also. A Western wedding Is chronicled in one of our rural exchanges, whereat the bride is said to have been four feet five inches tall, and the bridegroom seven feet six. . In such a case, whether the lady loved wisely or not, she surely lovea coo en. A New Hampshire speculative agri culturalist has been forced to pay $800 for the false pretence involved in pas sing off as a petrified human body of great autlquity, a sandstone statue which e had secretly buried for the purpose of having it discovered. Sponging " Is said to be the princi ple business of Key West, Fla. ; but we doubt if as much of it is dune there aa in this- city; where we have so many " sponges " of the first water that divers persons (ctueny hotci-Keepers) are " down upon them " at sight. A baker's dozen of Vermont spinsters recently availed themselves of Leap Year's opportunity to make an excursion to Wyoming in pursuit of matrimony, out discovered to tneir disgust mat mere was no chance of competing with the pauper labor of the native squaws. Miss Yallctt. cetat 23. of Providence. R. I., estimates at $30,000 ber indirect damages through a breach or promise of marriage on the part of a Vaileuudina- rian named urace, agea inree score anu ten, and rakes tip other old scores against him to show his graceless conduct. One Indianapolitan has sued another Indlanapolitaii for $15,000 consequential damages done to the former's wife by the latter's cow. . Considering the ex tremely uncertain tenure of property in wives under Indiana law, the sum claimed seems preposterously large. The Spanish authorities in Cuba pro fess great indignation because innocent looking traveling trunks are found to contain weapons for the insurgents. But where, we should like to know, would any one be more likely to look for arms than in connection with a trunk? - ...... , . . , Prince - Bismarck ft permitted by a special decree to use as " supporters " of his armorial bearings a couplo of heraldic savages precisely similar to those which stand guard over the im perial blazonry. -'This Is In addition to the number of private soldiers who " support arms " at the Trlnce's com mand. ; People of a scientific turn of mind as who is not in this scientific age? arc advised to watch the clouds on the twenty-fourth day of the present month, as some unusual phenomena are expected at that time. It Is well known that plates or glass and metal, w hen In acous tic vibration, vibrato regularly and geo metrically, haviug uudes and other amusing thiugs, ha may be shown by sprinKiing lycopodiuinon tnem wnen in motion, and observing the forms assumed by the powder. The air also vibrates regularly and Imparts its motion to light substances, such as fleecy clouds, araoko or mist. On the 24th tho Boston peace jubilee will have burst into great and harmonious blast of trumpet, organ, fid dle, hewgag and drum, and as tbe air shall receive impulses from the vibrating Instruments, It will impart them to the clouds, and perhaps even to the dust In the streets. Meteorological persons are recommended then to observe the beau tiful geometrical figures which the clouds will assume, aud to watch till they see them. The Boston street contractor will look out for the dust.