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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, November 22, 1863, Image 6

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for the New Ycrk Dispatch 3
IKE DEATH OF A‘COPPERHEAD.
Wpcn T'>m dvinflt bed be lay,
And dimly shone his eye;
lb- < wa., ebomg la*' away,
Alas J he, too, must die.
h woepii-u tnends were gathered there,
; 'Jo cheer his last, sad breath,
V>en knowing mat no friendly care
Can rescue him from death.
Bow came the old man in this state ?
What Juid the veteran low ?
Ab 1 s;u* the story to relate,
For ’tis a tale of woe.
Bui, see i up starts he with clenched hand,
And curses, muttered low,
Ah scenes of terror in his mind
Burn with a ceaseless glow.
Me sees the field of deadly strife,
Wiui mangled forms strewn o er ;
lie hears the last faint gasp of life
Drowned by the cannon’s roar.
H< bears the wild, demoniac shout,
As steel is clashed on steel;
11» neat s the Meter’s cry ring out.
And sees the vanquished reel.
Loud in his ears there sounds a cry,
as one in deadly pain-
iris from the wives whose husbands lie
On fields-of battle, slain.
A plaintive moan glides to him now,
A moment—it has fled ;
But. while it lingered, well he knew
The orphans’ cry for bread.
Then, grim and gaunt, a train-draws nigh,
With stern and martial tread—
The shades of murdered men pass by,
With curses on his head.
A light shines on the midnight sky,
To that his eye is turned ;
Be hears a brutal, savage cry,
He secs asylums burned.
♦•Down with the Draft.” thunders the mob,
And, floating on the ga)e ?
It nuiigh-s wun the widow's sob,
And with the orphan’s wail.
He hears, or thinks he hears, the groans
Of Afric’s enslaved race ;
li« knows me cause oi those sad tones,
And, shuddering, hides his face.
With curdling blood and crops like rain
Of anguish on his brow,
The hoary sinner writhes in pain—
Remorse has seized him now.
Writhe on. old wan. you’ve had your day,
But now the Judge has come,
Anu you are cafaea from earth away
To near your awlul doom.
A distant voice strikes on the ear,
And all expectant wait;
It rings out now both loud and clear,
v ri« from the Golden State.
For she has spoken in her might,
And will not be denied:
For Truth, lor Justice, and lor Right,
Her sons have bled and died.
And other voices new are heard,
To drown the traitor’s whine ;
As ether States gird on the sword
And wheel into the lir.e.
From Bunker Hill, where Warren fell,
And from the shores of Maine.
1A all the land where true men dwell
Ascends the grand refrain.
Ohio’s brew, (Brough] serene and calm,
Metts New York as of yore,
For she this time to Abraham
Brings thirty thousand more.
And Pennsylvania. Franklin’s State,
Detesting Copperheads,
Bas dropped a Curtin great of weight
On their devoted heads.
All loyal men who side with Right
Throughout our broad domain.
Now with their loosened tongue unite
In that triumphal strain.
Up listens to the onward roll
That thunders in his ears,
White thrills of anguish pierce his soul—
His doom to him appears.
blenched arejiis teeth—wild glares his eye—
And close his lips compressed ;
•The bead that once was held so high
Now sinks upon his breast-
With one loud shriek he meets his doom,
Hell greets-him with a shout,
As there in that increasing gloom
His lamp of life goes out.
first” one lino November day
They drag him to his den ;
IPs uug so oeep we wen may say
He 11 never riie
MORAL.
Let all, before it be too idle,
And hope of mercy’s fled.
Be warned before you share his fate,
Don’t be a Copperhead.
IWBtten fur the New York Dfepatch.]
THE RED DEVILS.
BV AUGUSTUS COMSTOCK.
*AHK or COMPANY A, DURYBA's ZOU4VS&
THE FLYING ARTIST.
My, comrade, Tom K , felt very sleepy
after he was relieved at his post on picket, and
as the earth had crawled under her night blanket,
he decided to follow her example.
The men composing the reserve, lay scattered
•ver the ground in various positions, with their
Heads upon their knapsacks, and their “ponchos”
rolled about their persons to protect them from
the dew.. The greater portion were buried in
slumber, and the lusty snores that emanated
from their nasal organs, disgusted Tom, who
was an epicure in everything pertaining to sleep.
This determined him to seek a place of repose
where the noifiy demonstrations of his compan
ions could not reach his ears. The spot which
he finally selected, was a email green bank near
a spiing of clear water, that ran murmuring
through a Ihick grove of pines, about two hun
dred yards fiom the place occupied by his com
panions.
“Good quarters, these 1” exclaimed Tom, rub
bing his hands. “The murmur of this stream is
just the thing to lull a man’s senses, to say noth
ing of the ground, which is as soft as a feather
bed.”
So be carefully spread his blanket, and having
adjusted his body to his satisfaction, commenced
to arrange his head.
This task was accomplished by means of his
haversack, which, containing a good-sized loaf
of bread, formed, in the estimation of our re
markable epicure, a very soft and acceptable pil
low.
Thus disposed, he soon fell asleep; but con
trary to his expectations, his slumber was not
very sound. II?s imagination rioted in wild a<d
disagreeable dreams. He seemed to behold
strange sights, and to hear unearthly noises.
Suddenly a flash of lightning glanced athwart
jiis dreaming vision, and he awoke with a start.
No wonder that his sleep had been uncomforta
ble. By some means or other, his head had be
come dii-lodged from the haversack, and he had
Tolled half way down the bank, his further pro
gress having been, arrested by a large stone—a
very scarce article in that part of Virginia—and
which .seamed t‘o have been placed there for his
especial benefit, as it had saved him from falling
into the stream. He was now lying in a diagonal
position, with his heels near the top of the bank
and his head six feet below' them.
The flash of lightning that had disturbed his
vision, had probably been caused by a tadow
candle, which to his astonishment, he now per
ceived was burning upon the stone to which we
have already alluded. From the candle his eyes
wand< red to the strange looking figure of a man
seated near it. This figure was almost a skele
ton—eo lank and lean were its proportions. It
was dressed in a snuff-colored suit—the unmen
tionables of which were much too short for the
spindle-shaped legs, while the coat was out at
the elbows. A large straw hat upon the head
shadowed a fierce-looking face half covered with
a grisly-beard, and with a pair of wild gray eyes
that were glaring upon the countenance of the
soldier like those of a tiger. The nose was
hooked like.the beak of an eagle, the lips thia
and compressed, the chin square and long.
Spread out upon the knees of tins singular be
ing was an open portfolio over which a. pencil
held in the loug lingers of the stranger’s right
hand, was moving with skilful rapidity.
For a few moments Tom K ’s feelings were
Buch as to deprive him of the power of speech
er motion. Presently, however, he half raised
his head and rubbed his eyes to make sure that
he was not still dreaming, when, dropping his
pencil the stranger drew a huge pistol from his
bosom, and cocking the weapon placed the muz
zle within an inch of the soldier’s temple.
“Down, down at once, as you was before, or
111 blow out your brains. Don’t move an inch
until I give the order, if you value your life!”
• “ Why—how is this ? Who the <l—l are yiu 1
What
“Not a word!” gritted the stranger through
hie teeth. Not a wordoryou die. I have almost
hnished you— all but the legs, and they’ll soon
be done if you keep still. It’s the most wonder
ful position I ever saw occupied by a soldier. I
shall make an accurate drawing, and it’ll be of
incalculable benefit to Jeff Davis I”
“ A rebel!” exclaimed Tom.
Silence!” muttered the stranger placing the
muzzle of the pistol against the other’s temple,
•‘D’ye want me to blow out your brains? Yes,
lam a rebel. lam Jeff’s traveling artist. lam
the King of my kind. lam of incalculable ben
efit to our glorious cause; for I can go where no
other man would dare to go—in the heart of the
enemy’s camp. My glorious sketches of the
places I visit are of great use to Jeff. Ha! ha!
h"a! I tell you lam the king of my profession—
the great flying artist!”
The blood ran cold in Tom’s veins as he felt
the muzzle of the .pistol pressed tighter each
moment against his temple. He realized that
he was in the power of a lunatic, and kuew not at
what moment the trembling finger of the man
might pull the trigger.
Presently, however, to his great relief, the
weapon was withdrawn, and placed upon one
aide of the portfolio ; while the artist resumed
his occupation of sketching his subject, who
dared not move from his singular and uncom
fortable position. In vain he longed foranop
§ortuuity to rescue himself from his tormentor.
'he eyes of the latter did not leave him fora
moment.' They watched him as a cat watches a
mouse, and he was forced to submit to the crazy
tyrant. About ten minutes had passed in this
way—minutes which seemed like hours to the
distressed soloier—when the lunatic suddenly
seized his pistol and closed his portfolio.
“There!” he cried, triumphantly flourishing
the latter above his head, “ it’s done!_tho draw
ing which shall reflect Hold!” he interrupted,
as Tom was raising himself from tho ground,
“hold! Ilemain as you now are. I haven’t
done with you yet. I would like to make a draw
ing of a dead soldier. Ho 1 ho!—a dead .soldier—
d’ye hear ? That will be something worth show
ing Jeff_won’t it ?”
And, with a fiendish laugh, the lunatic levelled
Jiis pistol at the heaH of the Zouave.
" What arc you going to do 1” said Tom, in a
tone of feigned surprise, believing that the artist
would answer his question before he discharged
the pistol, and thus give him time to act.
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the other; “what
am I going to do ? lam going to put a bullet
through your brain, and then make a beautiful
sketch of you, while you are ”
Here Tom suddenly threw himself upon tho
speaker, dashing the weapon aside with his fist,
and attempting to wrest it from his grasp. But
the lunatic held it like a vice, and a desperate
struggle ensused. Suddenly, there was a loud
report, as the pistol went off, and the artist ut
tered a cry like that of a wild animal.
The bullet had passed slantingly through the
skin of his. neck, inflicting a slight but painful
wound. Breaking from the grasp of Tom, 1-e
snatched the sash of the latter from tho ground,
upon which it had fallen during tho struggle,
and fastened one end around his bleeding neck.
Determined to make him his prisoner, Tom
ga\e. him no time to retreat, but with one quick
bound gained his side and seized him in his
powerful grasp. A brief struggle ensued, when
the lunatic was thrown to the ground, aud wish
his band upon his throat and his knee upon liis
breast, the Zouave held him motionless to the
earth. A tthe same moment he beheld a few of
his comrades, with the officer of the guard at
their bead, approaching the spot.
They had probably been alarmed by the noise
of the pistol, and as there was a bright moon
shining at the time, had experienced no diffi
culty in tracing the source of the report.
But they had scarcely arrived within a hun
dred yards of tho grove, when Tom suddenly
felt a sharp pain in his side, followed by a warm
gushing or blood.
His attention, which for the last few moments
had been fixed upon the approaching party, was
thus diverted to himself and his prisoner, when
be perceived that the latter held in his hand an
open penknife, reeking with blood.
Having stabbed him once, the lunatic was
about to repeat the blow, but the Zouave knocked
aside his aim and attempted to wrest the knife
from his grasp. Thus partially released, the
lunatic succeeded in regaining his feet; just as
Tom had succeeded in depriving him of bis
weapon.
But the soldier was now growing weak from
loss of blood, and feeling that the other was get
ting the advantage of their struggle, he shouted
to his comrades to hasten their coming.
The latter quickened their steps upon hearing
the voice of Tom, and they were already within
a few yards of the spot, when the lunatic sud
denly bounded away and scrambled up the trunk
of a tree with the agility of a squirrel.
Tom had now become so weak that he was
obliged to sit down. His comrades gathered
about him, and Ke soon made them acquainted
with what had taken place. His wound having
been dressed as well as circumstances would ad
mit, lie was carried to the camp upon a litter
and placed under the charge of a surgeon, who
pronounced his wound severe but not mortal.
In the meantime, the officer of the guard, hav
ing seized a rifle, pointed it among the branches
of the tree in which the artist had taken shelter,
and shouted:
“ Come down this instant, or you are a dead
man I”
“Hol ho! ho!” yelled the lunatic, “you shall
never shoot Jeff’s artist. You shall never make
a prisoner of the king of the pencil.”
The next moment the form of the lunatic was
seen struggling in the air, suspended from a
branch by the Zouave’s sash, which he had fast
ened around his neck.
For a few seconds his legs moved convulsively
and then became still, while the light of the
moon fell upon his ghastly and distorted coun
tenance.
The National Emblem. — We do not
envy the man, of whatever country, whose ’soil!
does not take tire at the sight of his national
flag—at the floating of that national emblem
which to him ought to be the remembrancer of
the most hallowed and endoaring associations
and pleasures. And no the breast ought this
feeling to bo more intense than in that of tho
American citizen. To him his flag is the guer
don of everything precious—life, liberty and the
pursuit of happiness. To him it brings home
the memory of sires who fought and bled and
died to secure for him a dearly prized freedom,
and immunities more sacred and glorious than
ever became the heritage of any other people.
It is possible that they can never know how
much of joyous meaning there is in the “red,
white and blue” of our “ star-spangled banner,”
who have not been temporarily excluded from
its protection and deprived of the sight of their
national emblem. Those who have been abroad,
and for months have not gazed upon its bril
liant folds, will tell us how their hearts leaped
for joy when they once again saw it floating in
tho breeze. But there are those who have never
left the soil of this continent, and yet for many
weary months have been deprived of a sightof that
“ dear.old flag;” and these more than any for
eign travelers know what a gush of gladness and
joy thrills through their hearts when once again
it is unfolded to their gaze as tho emblem of
freedom and the guarantee of protection. We
who daily sec the ’ flag of the Union here aud
there displayed, who live under our own national
emblem, and have never seen it trailed in the
duet or supplanted by the banner of a usurping
power, can never know the joy which they feel
on again beholding it, who, with suppressed
emotions, have been compelled to see a rebel
banner daily flaunted before their eyes. Our
soldiers, as they have victoriously marched
through regions where rebellion had long held
sway, and have once more raised the stars and
stripes aloft, have told-us how old men have
wept tears of joy. and grateful women have
pressed the biiliiant folds of tho flag they loved
to their lips, and youngmenhave joyfully sprang
to aims at tho sight of the inspiring hues. Yes,
they who have been deprived of the joy-inspiring
banner best know how precious it is, as they
who thirst best know the value of water, and
they who hunger the priceless preciousness of
food Washinrjtcn Chronicle.
Modern Economy of Time.—The Sci
. entific American thus shows how time has boon
economized by the application of machinery :
Colton One man can epin more cotton yarn
now, than four hundred men could have done in
the same time in 1760, when Arkwright, the best
cotton spinner, took out his first patent.
FZour One man can make as much flour in
a day now, as a hundred and fifty could a century
ago/
Lace One woman can now make as much
lace in a day as a hundred women could a hun
dred years ago.
Sugar.- It now requires only as many days to
refine sugar as it did months thirty years ago,
Looking Glasses.— lt once required six months
to put quicksilver on a glass ; now it needs only
for.y minutes.
□Engines.—The engine of a first-rate iron-clad
frigate will perform as much work in a day as
forty-two thousand horses.
This list might be extended indefinitely, for
there is scarcely an article of industry produced
which has not been increased in quantity to the
same extent, by the employment of improved
mechanical means for its production. There is
probably no class of people who have more
added to the wealth of the country than invent
ors, whose business it is to economise time, by
devising the best methods of accomplishing
labor.
Romantic Story.— Upward of thirty
years ago a marriage took place in the neighbor
hood of Liverpool, the man and wife being in
humble circumstances. After living together
till after the birth of a child, the husband went
to Australia to seek his fortune. His wife never
heard from him after he left her, and, supposing
he was dead, on the lapse of seven years she
married a widower with three children. To this
number, in her second married life, she added
five—making her whole family, including the
child by her first husband, nine infall. Some
time since, the second husband died, aud she
was left to struggle with her large family. To
her great surprise at the beginning of the pres
ent year her first busband made his appearance
at Liverpool. During his thirty years’ absence
he had prospered in Australia, and was a large
landed proprietor there. He had heard of his
wife’s second marriage ; but, as the fault was his,
he never thought of returning to England until
he beard of the death of the second husband.
To make amends for his former neglect of his
wife—for, notwithstanding her second marriage,
she was still his wife—he behaved in the most
handsome manner to all her children, gave them
costly outfits, and has taken them and the wife
of his early affections out. with him to the land of
bis adoption. The wife, who has thus, after an
absence of more than thirty years, been restored
to her position, is now about seventy years of
age.
Keep the Birth Day’s.—A Western
exchange makes the following excellent sugges
tions, which must meet the approbation of all
youthful readers. We trust they will also bo re
ceived with favor by the “ old folks.” It says :
“ Keep the birth days religiously; they belong
exclusively to, and are treasured among tho
sweetest memories of home. Do not let any
thing prevent some token, be it ever so small,
that it be remembered. Birth days are great
events to children. For one day they are heroes.
The special pudding or cake is made for them ;
a new jacket or trowsers, with pockets, or the
first pair of boots are donned ; and big brothers
and sisters sink into insignificance beside little
Charlie, who is ‘six to-day,’ and is ‘ going to be
a man.’ Mothers who have haff a dozen little
ones to care for, are apt to neglect birth days ;
they come too often—sometimes when they are
‘nervous’—but if they only knew how much
such souvenirs are cherished by their pct Susy
or Harry, years afterward, when awav from tho
hearthstone and they have none to remind them
that they have added one more year to the per
haps weary round of life, or to wish them, in old
fasnioned phrase, ‘ many happy returns to their
birth day/they would never permit any cause
to step between them and a mother’s privilege.”
The Japanese ladies use as pocket
handkerchiefs, squares of thin paper, which serve as nap
kins, also. They are always provided with from one to
two dozen of these novel r/wwAoos.
(Written for the New York Dispatch.)
THE BURIAL OF LORD EDWARD FITZ
GERALD.*
By 'William Oelopy Desmond*
The stars glimmered dimly, the pale moon was clouded,
The dark dews of midnight in silence were shed ;
The banner of Erin, the Geraldine shrouded.
As we tomb’d our young here in peace with the dead.
Through the lone ivy’d rpin the wild wind was sighing,
Like liberty’s dirge o’er tho patriot's grave :
The voice of the breeze in the cypress was dying.
Like hope o’er the pall of our Geraldine brave.
There knell'd no death-bell oe’r his doom, and his story,!
Like Autumn’s dead leaves fell our fears, as we wept;
And tbe torch through the gloom, like the Geraldine’s
glory.
But sadly illumin’d the place where he slept.
And deep were our vows, as In sorrow we bore him,
The martyr of Erin, that night to his tomb,
As death’s gloomy portals forever closed o er him.
We vengeance invok’d for the Geraldine’s doom.
His spirit was free from the bondage a id chillness
Oppression had cast o’er the life of-the brave,
And happy he lay in the peace and the stillness.
Though Erin and Freedom wept over his grave.
Existence was pain when dear liberty languished,
The lightning’s of tyranny shatter’d her fane ; *
The soul of the Geraldine, glorious, unvanquish’d,
Soared, bright and unsullied o’er slavery's chain.
Oh I he was a chief of the proud Spartan spirit,*
Which shone o’er the battles of Erin the brave ;
When the Saxon recoil'd, and the souls we inherit,
Should burst from our thrall, and the chains of the
slave.
No proud crested trophy the monument wreathing,
Our tears are the gems we shall leave as we pari.
A prayer, and a curse, all indignantly breathing,
Whose echoes are felt in the depths of the heart!
Sleep I sleep princely Geraldine, royally lying—
The dearest that ever had bled of the name,
For Erin and liberty, vroudly, when dying,
Bcquesting thy deeds to the annal’s of fame.
Oh I dim is the laifip upon liberty’s altar,
Tbe dark veil is drawn o’er the light of the fane.
In Freedom’s bold march vanquish’d Erin must talter.
The chief who would right her has perish’d in vain.
Oh 1 green be the wreath on the patriot’s pillow—
Illum’d by the last rays of liberty’s star,
Which shall rise o’er the field, like the foam o’er the
billow,'
When the standard of Erin shall beacon to war!
‘An inhabitant of Kildare, informed me some years ago,
while showing me the ruins of the religious house of St.
Bridget, ano the cemetery of the Duke of Leinster, that
the remains ot the illustrious patriot. Lord Edward
Fitzgerald, were interred there. His rail was not unlike
that cf the benuy Earl of Murray, at Dunbrissel. More
than an arrest seemed to have been intended, as in the
case 01 “ the braw gallant,’lor the commission was en
trusted to the unscrupulous Major Sirr. ana the Geraldine
might have told his assassin in Murray's words to Gordon
ot Buckie ere he was slain. “You have harmed a better
face than your own.’ His remains, ade’ed my informant,
wer* conveyed hither in a plain deal coftln from St. Wer
burch church where they <had been temroiarily deposi
ted ; they were interred at midnight in tiie Kildare fami
ly vault.
t Like Themistocles, Lord Edward had abandoned all to
light for his country, moved by her sufieiiugs, and anx
ious for her tame and if this was mistaken zeal in a des
perate cause, the heroes of Greece and Rome are equally
liable to misrepresentation. Well may the inveterate en
emies of Ireland and freedom triumph in the act of as
sailing the memories of the patriots, when their names
are not to be breathed by those for whom they fell yet
when the monuments of tyranny are razed to the ground,
by time, or retribution, thosj of Lord Edward and his
chieftaincy will remain in the hearts of his countrymen.
for the ’New York Dispatch.]
TWO MONTHS IN THE FOREST.
A PANTHER HUNT.
BY TAH AW US.
We had reached Jack’s cabin from Cold
at nightfall, wet and fatigued. The twenty-six
heavy trout we had brought from that river
gained sensibly in weight at each successive mile
of the rugged way. Jack, the guide’s friend and
fellow hunter, met the party with a cheery wel
come, and furnished us with a hearty meal—sov-
cure for fatigue.
Darkness crept on apace. The heavy clouds,
drifting close above the trees, and packing on
the mountains along tho lake, and the wind,
soughing by starts through tho pines about the
door, denoted a storm. Jack had heaped the
floor with wood, and a cheerful fire lighted up
the “ shantee.” Presently the heavy drops be
gan to patter on tho bark roof and down the
wide stone chimney, hissing in the hot embers,
coming faster and faster, until tbe storm was
fairly inauguarated in a steady, monotonous
roar'.
“You re member, Tony, you were to tell us of
your adventure with the panther at our first
camp.”
“I’ve had many a scrape with the critters. I
reckon it won’t make much odds what one I tell
of, if it’s only about a painter ? Jack is knowin’
to the truth of what I’m goin’ to tell. The way
I come'Jo get on this painter’s trail was this: I
was out early last winter with a party that was
hunting for" pine timber to run down by the
spring freshets. Wo were coming in one after
noon around the shore of Lake Henderson, when
we ran across on an otter slide ”
“ Pray, what may an “ otter slide” be, Tony ?”
“ Why, have you. never heard of an otter slide
afore! Two or three otters will clear a smooth
track down some bank on to the ice, and there
they’ll run up and slide down after eachother
hours together. I suppose it’s their fun. Well’
to appearance, two or three otters had been on
that slide that day. I said nothing, but thought
to mjself ‘Young chaps, you’re my fur.’ The
next morning, at crack of day, I went over to
look at them.
“‘Hallo!’ says I, ‘what’s broke loose now?’
For there was one of the traps knocked to pieces,
and the otter taken out, for I could see there had
been one in the trap. Bight around the spot in
snow was what told me right off what was
but. There was a painter’s track as long as your
foot. It riled me a trifle, for that fur was worth
$lO, if ’twas a cent. Iknowed the painter hadn’t
been gone long, and says I, ‘ I’ll follow you, you
old thief, and we’ll get square on this a tore I
leave your trail.’ The painter is a critter that
won’t wet his feet travelin’ in the snow unless
he’s pushed to it. I felt middlin’ sure he wasn’t
far f rom ths lake then, and I knowed exactly
where to travel for him in those parts.
“ I thought, Tony, that the panther was in the
habit of roaming far and wide for his prey ?”
“Not in winter; he don’t take many steps;
he'll jump into a tree over a deer’s runway, and
lay in the limbs on the watch until a deer passes
under him, than he drops upon his back. If he
misses his spring, he seldom follows more than
three or four jumps. I shot a buck last fall in
the first snow, that had just got clear of a pain
ter ; there was a piece of meat taken out of his
rump by the critter’s paw, as big as hand.
“ Well, I wasn’t read}’ that minute quits to
take the painter’s trail and had to go back to
camp first. I didn’t set out’till next morning,
but at the first crack of day, I was by the otter
slide, and on the track.
“I had old Buck with me—not but that I could
track the painter myself—in the snow, that was
easy, but then I mightn’t know so well when I
got onto the critter. They arc a dangerous ani
mal at dodgin’ and doublin’; before you thought
of it he might light in the trail behind you, or
have his yellow eyes on you from a coyer close
beside the track. I’ rather trust old Buck’s nose
than my eyes, at trackin’ a painter. •
“ We traveled on ; the old dog knowed what
wo were after; he didn’t bound ahead on’the
track, but’Stepped just before me and never
would go more than three or four rods ahead.
The first two hours the track was plain, but not
mighty fresh, and we went on fast. In some
spots the painter had wallowed through the snow:
in others he had climbed over bogs and jams of I
timber, and marks of his claws were plain in the
rotten wood. He had passed there the night
afore, it was plain, and up to now the old thief
had no notion we were on his trftek. Before we
had got a mile further, we ran across his last
night’s cover—a thick tangle of sapling hemlock
and spruce, whore the limbs swept the ground
all around, and left a dry spot inside. Here the
dog began to whine and look up in my face, tell
in’ me in his way, that w the scent was fresher.
We had now got into the mouth of a deep run. I
knowed that spot clear through, many a deer I’d
shot on the runway through it. It lays between
two steep, broked ledges of rocks, runnin’ side
by side two miles ormore-. The heavy hemlook
and spruce timber on both sides, and rooted
among the rocks, makes it pretty dark and
solemn always.
“ I see from the start that the painter was
headin’ for this, and that he would take cover
somewhere in here. Sure enough, we hadn’t got
up the ravine forty rod when I found we -had
started him. His track showed that he had got
scent of us, and now he would try his game of
hide and double on ns. I kept my eyes open and
Buck close ahead, and crawled along an hour
longer; I don’t think wo got a hundred rod in
that time. I began to wonder why the critter
hadn’t taken the tree afore, or the rocks. Now
I depended on the dog to give me warnin’ when
we got nigh him. After all ’twas some excitin’
dodgin’ around that dark hole thinking every
minute that maybe the painter would pump afore
I got my eye on him.
“ Now, Buck, who had been a rod ahead, ’till
this ; minute, suddenly turned around and walk
ed straight back to me and looked up and began
to whine. I couldn’t make him budge a foot fur
ther than I did myself. ‘Well’ thinks I, ’old
chap, our tramp is nigh up, I guess.’ We’d got
almost there ; I knew the dog had scented the
painter fresh—maybe seen him, and that he had
at last stopped and gone to cover close ahead.'
Just as likely as not—yes, more so, the critter
had got his infernal yellow eyes on us then!
“I didn't calculate to stir much out of cover
afore I got some sign of the rascal. I fresh cap
ped my rifle and slipped a couple of balls into my
mouth ; then keeping all the while in the shelter
of the nighest big tree, I did crawl a few rads
higher up the run. SHU I could see nothing.
Tbe dog stuck fast to my side, whinin’ and brist
lin’ up the hair on his back. I now verily believe
that if I hadn’t kept so close under cover of a
tree, the painter would have sprung afore I could
have got sight of him.
“ Now, old Buck fairly stopped behind me ; I
couldn’t get him one step further, but there he
stuck with one fore foot up bristling and trem
bling like an ague, and his nose in the air snuifin’
toward the heavy hemlock tops just up the ra
vine. Thinks I, tho dog must have got sight of
the critter ’ But, though from my shelter I
looked and looked into every tree and rock be
yond, I couldn’t uncover him. I had most made
up my mind to go ahead, but the dog just then
gave such a pitiful whine, that I stuck by my
NEW YORK DISPATCH.
tree, and went to work to make another search—
and there, by the Lord 1 he lay as big as life!
Why I hadn’t seen him afore I don’t know—he
laid so still, I suppose. He laid in the fork of a
great hemlock, on a limb, flat on liis bafly, with
his head down toward me and not over eignt rod
off. I took my head behind the tree—l didn’t
stop for a long look—and cocked my rifle. ‘ Old
chap,’ says I, to myself, ‘ you’re a fair shot as
you lay, and I think I can still you the first time
tryin’. ’ I stepped out from my cover; I could
see the critters tail snap back and forth, and his
hind feet drawin’ up under his body. I thought
he’d jump and I fired quick. The ball meant for
his heart only broke his shoulder. Such a scream
of pain or madness as he let out, and kept on
lettin’ out! It kept my teeth on edge a fortnight.
But he didn’t jump. I was out of his sight again,
and the painter won't jump afore he can see his
mark clear. 1 loaded in haste. I clapped the
tip of my powder-horn’into the muzzle of my
rifle and poured out till I thought I’d got sartain
ly a charge; then slipped down a ball Iliad ready
in my teeth, without any patch, and in about ten
seconds ! was ready to try again. I knowed I
should fetch him this time, for I’d got over my
excitement, then.
“I stepped out once more. The painter lay on
the same limb, snarlin’ and screecnin’ yet. He
showed all his ivory, and the blood and froth was
dropping from his jaws. His claws were making
the bark fly off the limb, and his eyes were like
hot coals. It was only a second I had to see all
this. Just as the critter was drawin’ his hind
feet under him again, I sent him another. This
time there wasn’t any mistake; tbe ball took him
fair between the eye§. He stretched out, hung a
minute, and then down he thrashed through the
brush into the snow, out of sight. I suppose he
was dead afore he struck, but I couldn’t tell then.
I kept cover, and loaded again in a hurry ; but
he didn’t stir, and after a few minutes, I went up
and hauled him out. I took off his hide, and
then Buck and I took the back track for home
we.l pleased. S'othe enter didn’t make much
robbin’ my other traps.”
MASONIC DIRECTORY.
INDEPENDENT ROYAL ARCH o. No. 2,
F. and A. M.—Regular communication Ist and 3d Thurs
day Evening, at Nos. 817 and 819 Broadway. Charles
A. Cook, Sec.
HOLLAND o, No. 8, F. and A. M.—Regu
commumcatlons 2d and 4th Tuesday evenings, at 7%
t o’clock, at No. 8 Union Square. JOTHAM ■ OST, M.
A. W. King, Sec., No. 443 Broadway.
FORTITUDE o, No. 19, F. and A. M.—
Regular communication every Thursday evening at
o’clock, at the cor. of Court and Joralemon sts.. Brook
lyn. L. I. WM. TAYLOR, M., No. 77 Concord st. 8. J.
O’Brien, See., No. 117 Hamilton st.
ABRAMS O, No. 20, F. and A. M.— Regular
communications every Tuesday Evening, at No. 118
Avenue D, at 7J< o’clock. RUSSELL AL BOOLE. AL
Residence, No. 179 Sixth st. Adah Clkmdenzn, Soc.—
Residence. No. 64 Oanftfifi street.
BENEVOLENT □, No. 28, F. and A. M.—
Regular communications 2d ana 4th Wednesday, at 7)2
o’clock, at lxo.B Union Square. THOS. C. DUXBURY,
W. M. William I. Surre, Sec., No. 229 West 16th st
DIRIGO □, No. 80. F. and A. M.—Regular
communication first and third Monday evenings.
o’clock, at Odd Fellows’ Hall. JOSEPH F. ELERY,
M.—Residence, No. 616 Grand st. James M. McCartkn,
Secretary.
MUNN □, No. 190, F. and A. M.—Regular
communication every Wednesday evening, at 7% o’clock,
at No. 51 Division street. WM. 11. BARRETT, M.—Resi
dence, Nos. 255 and Centre street John Goin, Sec.,
No. 36 Burling Slip. Zo?
EXCELSIOR □, No. 195, F. and A. M.—
Regular communication every 2d and 4th Monday Eve
ning. at 7y z o’clock, at O.F. Hall. GEO. R. NICIIOLL,
Jl.—Residence, No. 71 Sixth Avenue. Josiah Parkin,
Sec.—Residence. Ne. 343 West 35th street
EMPIRE CITY o, No. 206, F. and A. M.—
Regular communications 2d and 4th Tuesday Evenings,
at 7>l o’clock, at NLasonic Mall. 817 and 819 Broadway
WILLIAM G. AM ES, M. Joseph P. Jardine, Sec.—Resi
dence, White st.
PACIFIC □, No. 233, F. and A. M.—Regu
lar Communication 2d and 4th Thursdays evening, at 7%
o’clock, at No. 8 Union Square. THOMAS JOHNSTON,
M.—Residence, No. 176 Thompson street James Hyde.
Secretary.
POLAR STAR O, No. 245, F. and A. M.—■
Regular communication every Wednesday evening, at
No. 118 Avenue D.EDWIN BOUTON, M.—Residence,
No, 14 Abingdon Square. WM. H. Jahne, Sec., No. 18
Norfolk street.
CHARTER OAK □, No. 249, F. and A. M.—
Regular communication every Wednesday evening, at
7>; o’clock, at Odd Fellows’ Hall. WM. C. PECKHaM,
it—Residence, No. 226 West 19th st Wm. B. Smeeton,
Sec., No. 265 Court street Brooklyn. •
HOWARD □, No. 35, F. and A. M. —Regu-
lar communications first and third Thursday evenings,
at 7% o’clock, at Corinthian Room, Odd Fellows’ Hall.
JOHN H. GRAY, M., No. 15 Broadway. W S. Eaton.
Sec., No. 149 Broadway.
MONTGOMERY □, No. 68, F. and A. M.—
Regular Communications Ist and 3d’Wednesday Eve
ning1 ’. at Masonic Temple, at 7% o’clock. LUTHER B.
PERT, M.—Residence. No. 338 Broome st Ole H. Hol
bkrg, Sec., No. 27 William st
JOHN HANCOCK a, No. 70, F. and A. M.—
Regular communication second and fourth Wednesday
evenings, at ~y z o’clock, at Odd Fellows’ Halt DANIEL
H. HUNT, M.—Residence. No. 51 Forsyth st. Charles
Dingley, Sec.. No. 177 Orchard su
ABCANA □, No. 246, F. ana A. M, —Regu-
lar communications Ist and 3d Mondays, at No. 8 Union
Square, at 7X o’clock. D. W. LEEDS, M.—S. M. Cockein,
See., No. 20 Exchange Place.
JOHN D. WILLARD O, No. 250, F. and A.
M .—Regular communications Ist and 3d Tuesday Eve
nings. at 7>a o’clock, at Odd Fellows’Hall. GEORGE
RENSHAW, M.—Residence, cor. Devoe and Leonard sts.,
Brooklyn, E. D. Thomas J. Drew. Sec., No. 96 9th Ave.
MYSTIC TIE a, No. 272, F. and A. M.—
Regular Communication Ist, 3d and sth Tuesdays,at Ma
sonic Temple, at o’clock. Sylyestkr Sigler, Sec.,
No. 215 Centre street
ABCTUPvUS □, No. 274, F. and A. M.—
Rci-ular communications every Ist, 3d. and each alternate
stn Fuaay. at No.BUnion Square, st 7Jao’clock. JOHN
VALENTINE, M.— Residence, No. 190 Orchard street
J. Alex McCombie, Sec.—Residence, No. 54 Jane st.
ATLAS O, No. 316, F. and A. M.—Regular
communications 2<l and 4th Thursdays, at Odd Fellows’
Hall. JOHN BOYD. M.. No. 12 Franklin st Ghx>. W.
Duryke, Sec., No. 201 William st
PURITAN □, No. 339, meets every Ist and
3d Thursday Evening, at No. 626 Fourth street, corner
ot Avenue C. THEOPHILUS PRATT, M. John F. Horn
ung, Sec.—Residence. No. 116 First street.
ADELPHIC O, No. 348, F. and A. M._
Regular communications every 2d and 4th Saturday
Evenings, at o'clock, at Masonic Hall, Nos. 817 and
819 Broadway. BD. M. BANKS, M., Nos. 25jand27 Peck
Slip. John W. Bennett, Nos. 28,30 and 32 Centre st.
KANE O, No. 454, F. and A. M. —Regular
communications every Tuesday Evening, at 7}' 2 o’clock,
atN. E. corner of Broadway and 13th street. THOS. S.
SOMMERS, M.—No. 112 Broadway. Jas. M. Tighe, Sec.,
No. 290 Broadway.
GREENWICH □, No. 4457, F. and A. M.—
Regular communications 2d and 4th Fridays, at the cor
ner of Green and Fourth streets, at 7% o’clock. AA.
BONNEVILLE, M.—Residence, Hoboken. Wm. B.
Shove, Sec.—Residence, No. 33 Nassau st.
PARK O, No. 516, F. and A. M. —Regular
Communication every Tuesday Evening, at No. 683 Eighth
Avenue, at 7 Z \. o’clock. JOSEPHUS BRINKWORTH, M.,
No. 62 West 4ist street Rich. Sale, Sec., No. 230 West
40th street.
NORMAL □, No 523, F. and A. M.—Regu
lar Communication every Monday Evening, at corner
of Broadway and 13th street, “Gibson Building,” at 7i<
o’clock. GEO. H. RAYMOND, M—Residence, No. 257 7th
etreet. E. R. Chapman, Sec’y, No. 36 Beckman street.
AMERICUS □, No. 535, P. and A. M.—Regu
lar communication 2d and 4th Friday, at Odd Fellows’
Hall, at iy z o’clock. GEO. E. SfMONS, M., No. 191
East 34th st. H. Clay Lanius, Bec., No. 1 Spruce st.
ADELPBIC CHAPTER, No. L ,R. A. M.—
Regular Convocations 2d and 4th Wear sday Evenings,
at 7Vi o’clock, at Nos. 817 and 819 B. f aaway. ADON
SMITH, Jr.. 11. P.. No. 3 South st William B. Shove,
Sec., No. 33 Nassau st
MORTON COMMANDERY, No. 4, K. T.,
meets second and fourth F-ldays, Grand Lodge Room Odd
Fellows’ Hall. J. SHOVE, Recorder. Residence No. 33
Nassau street
R. W. Bro. Geo. H. Raymond, Grand
Lecturer. Address No. 48 John street, New
York city.
Wok. Bro. Charles 11. Yallalbe, As
sistant Ghand Lectuhek for tho First Judicial
District, comprising the City and County of New
York. Address New York Dispatch, No. llFrank
fort street.
Wm. A. Kelsey, Assistant Grand
Lecturer for the Second Judicial District, com
prising the counties of Kings, Queens, Suffolk,
I’ichmond, Westchester, Putnam, Dutchess,
Rockland and Orange. Address No. 119 Ad
ams street, Brooklyn.
“ Politics and Masonry” once more
—Under this caption we have recently alluded to an
article which appeared in “a cotemporary,” and which
we thought unjust and unfounded in fact. The late Judge
Judah Hammond once said, during court hours and when
annoyed bv a noiee in his court-room, “ Mr. Smith, if you
keep‘on telling stories over in that corner, I shall be
forced to call’you by name!” Now “our cotemporary”
has been telling so many “stories” (sec Mrs. Opie), that
we are compelled to call it by name, for fear tnat some
other cotemporary may take to itself the compliments
which are solely intended for the New York Era. We do
this with the 'mere pleasure, because we hear that it
has lately been paying its respects to us in a very left
handed manner, m numbers which we have not been for
tunate enough to see, for the reason that its whole edition
was declared to have been exhausted when our menen
ger sought for a number at its editorial oflice. In a copy
which we did see the -Era wept over and protected against
the alleged fact that men who wore influenced by unwor
thy motives,and to forward their political ends,
gained admission into the fraternity,which fraternity th-y
used fcr political purposes. It then went further m its
lamentations, and declared that mon of other or opposite
political views sought admission into the fraternity in or
der to meet and bafde their adversaries by the same un
holy means. These things we denied, and we now deny
them, and the Ji'ra knowing that its assertion was inde
fensible attempts to recede from its position by denying
its own language. It says: “ One of our —
net in the. admenity but rather in the denunciatory vc’.n
—sPuded to our article 0f.1a.--t week under ihe abore
beadirg. and totally perverting our meaning, warps o ir
observations wrongfully, at the same time illyconcealing
what we regard as an attempt at intimidation ”
In the article to which we excepted, the Era speaks of
the introdw tian, into tiie craft, of a class of ambitious poli
ticians who have soug ht to make use. of Masonry, for the
purpose of forwarding their indit idt/al ends, and then com
ments upon the motive which dictated their entrance, and
it then groans over the pitting of rival Masons who are
aspirants for political office against each other. We use as
nearly as we can from memory, the. language of the Era y
and if we are wrong, a re-publication of the article will
set us right. We now *give the exact language which fol
lows the above :
“ Thus Freemasonry is prostituted, and we were about
to say that Heaven might be taintod by the same method
if politicians were allowed to gain admittance. Neither
paily will give over the contest, because they joined for
the express purpose of making war, and as they arc how
in their element, thev care for nothing, hut each for the
destruction of the other. ‘ Rule or ruin,’ is their motto,
and cal ering to the selfishness of their dupes, they bemoan
the noble institution, and bring a blush upon its name
throughout the world.”
Surely the extract is pointed enough, and yet in the
next number of the Era, we have the following :
Nor were our remarks applied only to .secular politics,
as our cotemporary ought t> .know, yet seems to ignore,
but to Masonic politics.”
Now we dety the Am to point out a sentence in the
article of which we complained which refers to ‘ Masonic
Politics.” In speaking of brethren of other jurisdictions,
it in the original article said ;
“But what shall they say when they learn that politics
and partizan strife has obtained a foothold within the sa
cred precincts of freemasonry, the rock on which their
last hopes were anchored.”
r ve “totally perverted” yonr “meaning,” it was just
such a perversion as every one of your extensive number
of readers has already made. This shutting will not do.
The Ira me art just what it said, and said just what it
meant, and it is eiiher ignorant or it did not mean to tell
the tiuth. Let it publish again the original article, or if it
will send us a copy of the paper, we will publish it with
p easure. The last article closes as follows :
* No one knows better than some of the people attached
to our cotemporary, that there is such a thing as Masonic
politics, as well as Masonic jurisprudence, ana sometimes
the canvassing of these matters results in much good. At
least we propose to discharge what we regard our consci
entious duty in the premises, desirous and glad of receiv
ing suggestions and wisdom from all sources, but repu Ha
ling in the indomitable and fearless spirit of atruernan,
all attempts to intimidate or injure us, while we deprecate
the spirit that would misapprehend our motives or put a
wrong construction upon our language.”
We contend that the man who wilfully and totally
“ perverts the meaning” of another, “ warps his observa
tions wrongfully,” or puts a “wrong construction on his
language,” is simply guilty of what the world calls
“ falsehoods.” These things the Rra has charged us with;
therefore, we say again, republish your original article,
or send it to us, and we will republish it, though these ex
tracts are amply sufficient to snow two things : Hist, that
it has slandered the Craft; and, secondly, that it has not
been true to itself, but has swallowed its own declara
tions.
With a single other allusion, we dismiss the subject for
the present. “ Some of the people attached” to this pub
lication are charged by the A’m with having a knowledge
“ that there is such a thing as Masonic politics.” Now, we
do not know what this means, and, like the school boy
who was called a “ logarhythm,” retort by saying,
“You're another,” and suggesting “that no one knows
better than some of the people attached to our eoteinpo
rary that there is such a thing as Masonic politics” and
that this is about the only branch of Masonry that they
have ever seriously studied ; though without much bene
fit. We close with a neat little extract from the last num
ber of the Fra, which is delightfully apposite to the re
marks which we have previously quoted from it. Is it a
sentiment from the Editor, or is it from the “Scissors,”
and hence uncredited ?
“A Kind Word often lifts a greater weight from the sor
rowing heart than could the wealth of worlds. Let ns
us think ot this in our daily walks, and think how little it
costs us to strew our pathway with pleas L’nt words.”
How gushingly apropos 1
The Mason’s Grave. —ln all ages the
bodies of tb.e Masonic dead have been laid in graves dug
due East and West, with their faces toward the East. This
practice has been borrowed from us, and adopted by oth
ers, until it has become nearly universal. It imnlies that
when the Great Day shall come, and He who is Death’s
conqueror shall give the signal, Ms ineffable light shall first
be. seen in the East: that from t/ie East he will niake his glo
rious approach : will stand at the Eastern margin oi these
graves, and with his mighty power—that grasp irresistibly
strong which shall prevail—will raise the bodies which
are slumbering therein.
We shall have been long buried, long decayed. Friends,
relatives, yea our nearest and dearest, will eease to re
member where they have Lai<l us. The broad earth will
have undergone wondrous changes, mountains leveled,
valleys filled. The seasons will have chased each other in
many a fruitful round. Oceans lashed into fury by the
gales of to day. will to-morrow have sunk like a spoiled
child to their slumber. Broad trees, with broader roots,
will have interlocked them, hard and knobbed as they
are, above our ashes, as if to conceal the very fact of our
having lived: and then, after centuries of lite, they too
will have followed our example of mortality, and Jong
struggling with decay, at last will have toppled down to
join their remains with ours, thus obliterating the last poor
testimony that man has ever lain here- Bo shall we be
lost to human sight But the Eye of Gon. nevertheless,
will mark the spot, green with the everlasting verdure of
faith, and when the trumpet’s blast shall shake the hills to
their very bases, our astonished bodies will rise, impelled
upward by an iiresistlble impulse, and we shall stand face
to face with our Creator '.—Freemason's Almanac.
Testimony to the Webb-Preston
Work.—M. W. Thomas 11. Benton, LL. D., Grand Master
of lowa, Editor of The lowa Teacher,State Commissioner of
Education, etc., one Whose pursuits have given him skill
in the examination of questions of literary genealogy,
thus, in his Address to his Grand Lodge, in June, 1861. tes
tifies to the authenticity of the Webb-Preston Work:
“I have made it a point to scrutinize this work, and, as
far as possible, to trace its history and origin, for it must
be remembered that our object, has not been to obtain a
new work, but to procure the ancient work: From the most
accurate information I have been able to obtain from
consulta:ion with old experienced Masons, lam fully sat
isfied that it is genuine, and if we adhere to the. policy
which has thus far been attended with so much success,
it will become uniform throughout this jurisdiction. I
have never had such enlarged views of the designs and
principles of Masonry as I have during the few months I
have devoted to the study of this work. There is a beauty,
significance, and grandeur about the lectures, when
thoroughly understood, which cannot fail to impress the
mind with the most sublime truths.” This is the Work
which is being taught by Bro. Rob. Morris, and which is
meeting with the most decided opposition.
She Don’t Like It.— Dear Sir and
Brother: One of my most intimate friends recently came
to me, and said that he had long desired to join the Ma
sonic order, and requested me to propose him. I did
so, and he was elected, and has received two degrees.
Thus far. he is much pleased, and he will make a good
and bright Mason. He informed his wife that he had
joined the Masons, and she became very indignant, and in
the most bitter terms denounced the order, and is very
angry toward me and her husband. Ist. How caii we
reconcile matters? 2d. How much money is expended
yearly from the funds of the Masonic fraternity for the
benefit of the widow' and orphan in this State, and how
much in the United States? By answering, you will
oblige w. C.
Answer.—l. Let your friend take his meals at his house,
as heretofore, but rigidly resolve to sleep at a hotel and
keep that resolution. The cure will be perfect, or the
disease will so strike in, out of sight, as to be harmless
within a fortnight.
IT. About $15,000.
111. About $200,000, aside from the collegiate institu
tions and the asylums for destitute Masons.
To “ F. Craft. ’ —We have frequent-
Jy answered your question, and we now repeat, that no
business can be transacted legally at an emergent meeting
of a lodge, except that business for which the meeting
was specially called. Hence the balloting for a candidate
would be illegal under such circumstances, and the ille
gality would not be cured by an announcement at a regu
lar meeting that such balloting would be had at a special
meeting. Such a proceeding is a flagrant violation of a
settled rule.
To the Editor of the Sunday Dis
patch:—Please answer in your never-failing print-:
Suppose there are two candidates running for Master,
and there are 120 votes polled, one get 90 votes, the other
30, can the lodge legally take a vote upon it and make it a
unanimous vote when one brother or more objects.
Neptune.
Ans —The lodge cannot make- any act unanimous un
less every member present votes in the affirmative
A Beautiful Diploma. —Henry 0.
Eno, of No. 37 Park Row, has recently published a very
fine diploma for M. Masons: it is lithographed and color
ed with a great deal of artistic taste and mechanical skill.
We are informed that it is cheap.
'ibe Members of Oeean □, Is, 156
F. and A. M. are summoned to attend the next regular
communication, on MONDAY EVENING, Nov. 23,1833, at
7’a o’clock, for the transaction of important business.
By order of the M.
T. C. Whitely. Sec’y.
The Members of Munn 3». 190,
F. and A. M., are hereby notified that all Brethren who
are twelve months in arrears for dues will be stricken
from the roll of membership, at the regular communica
tion to beheld on Wednesday, the 2d day of December
next. Seafaring men are allowed twelve months extra
time. W. 11. BARRETT, M.
F. and A. M.—Sorina! □, So. 528.
The members of this Lodge who intend accompanying the
officers in their friendly visit to Excelsior Lodge, on Mon
day Evening, 23d November, rre requested to be punctual
in their attendance at the hour prescribed by the bye laws,
also those wtyo intend to accompany the officers to Sylvan
Grove Lodge on Tuesday, the 24th November, will meet in
Corinthian Room, Odd Fellows’ Hall, on said day at 7
o’clock, P. M. Per order,
G. H. RAYMOND, M.
E. K. Chapman, Sec.
II. S. & G. W. Bu&hain,
WINES, BRANDIES, CIGARS, &c.
FAMILY STORE:
No. 744 BROADWAY,
Corner of Astor Place, New York.
SAMPLE ROOMS CONNECTED.
Samuel R. Kirkham,
ENGRAVER AND PRINTER,
No. 194% BOWERY,
Three doors above Spring st., New York,
Keeps constantly on hand a large assortment of
SILVER-PLATED DOOR AND NUMBER PLATES,
PEW PLATES, Ac. A
WEDDING, VISITING, BUSINESS,- W
and ADDRESS CARDS,
Engraved tn the Latest Style at Moderate Prices.
OBSERVE THE NUMBER—I 94!
W W®w Ready—An Authentic Key to the
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theTabTW&t.
LETTER FROM EDWIN JAMES
TO THE ARTISANS AND OPERATIVES OF
THE CITY OF NEW YORK.
A deputation of artisans having called upon me and re
quested my opinion upon the present movement now so
widely extending, to raise the rate of wages, and upon the
legality of the formation of societies for mutual assistance
and protection, I fulfill the promise I made to them of put
ting those opinions into writing.
Capital and labor have ever had their periodical strug
gles Shortly before I left England a contest between the
employers and the employed raged for many months. It
fell to my lot to represent in the British Parliament the
interests of many thousands in the metropolis of England
who lived by their industry. Labor asserted its just de
mands upon capital. Meetings were held by the working
Glasses, the question was there discussed with marked
ability and unexampled moderation Resolutions were
passed by which they pledged themselves to demand from
their employers e higher rate of wages and to withhold
their labor if those just and equitable demands were not
conceded. The working clas-es remained firm—though
misery and deprivation of the means of subsistence were
the penalty of their firmness. They desired nothing ille
gal—nothing unjustifiable—and they were sustained by
public opinion.
The “Trades Unions”—societies formed for the protection
of the operative against the tyranny and exaction of the
master—were the great instrument by which they accom
plished their success. Manchester, Leeds, Liverpool, and
all the great hives of industry sent their funds to their
struggling fellow-laborers in the metropolis. A social con
vulsion seemed imminent, but the cause of labor was a
righteous cause, and it triumphed) Mutual concessions
were made, and I bore an humble part in adjusting the dis
astrous differences. To tiic honor of the aristocracy of
England, I may remind you. that they gave their power
ful influence to the cause of labor ; the aristocracy of mo
ney, the “plousiocracy” (I coin a word for the occasion),
the most offensive, the most corrupt, and the least perma
nent of all aristocracies, with obstinate arrogance, opposed
the efforts oi the working man.
The movement now originated in this city to raise the
rate of your wages I deem to be perfectly justifiable.
There is not. nor can there ever be, a fixed, unvarying
standard for the price of labor. Wages are the compensa
tion paid to the laborer for the exertion of his physical
power, and ot his skill and ingenuity. Every man’s labor
is his property. It is something which he has the inalien
able right to sell—and in order to counteract the combina
tion of the purchasers of jour labor you have the right to
cc-operate to your mutual assistance until you obtain what
you deem to be the fair price for it. The capitalist de
mands from his customer an increased price for the article
he manufactures and sells commensurate with the cost of
its production : you have an equal right to demand from
the capitalist an increased price lor your labor when the
wages paidhy him to you will not produce in exchange
the quantity of food, necessaries, and conveniences of life
es- enfial to the support of yourselves and your families.
The present crisis justifies your movement The enor
mous expenditure of the Government, and the inflation of
the currency, have produced, as such causes always pro
duce, a general and great rise in the prices of the necessa
ries of hie. Contractors and other persons dealing with
the Government, have derived a positive benefit from this
increased expenditure, but no rivulet from this tide of fac
titious prosperity reaches the working man, he has noth
ing but his labor to bring into competition with capital,
and is left alone to bear the increased cost of all that is
necessary to his subsistence.
The pressure ot'taxation falls heavily upon you. You
arc the great consumers, and. consequently, the great pay
ers ot taxes. Indirect taxation upon the articles you con
sume is a direct tax upon your wages. The laboring
classes m England pay the large proportion of indirect
taxation; and 1 think it was Mr. Cobbeit who asserted and
proved that, it the consumers of beer abstained from that
beverage for one-week, the interest on the national debt
could not. be paid, and imperial bankruptcy would ensue
The cost of a protracted war. gigantic in all its propor
tions. has entailed a system of taxation, the severity of
which is as yet scarcely known and appreciated. One of
the most humorous of English authors (the late Sydney
Smith) in the year 1820, congratulated America upon her
freedom from taxation, and informs us. from the example
ot England, of the inevitable consequences of being “too
fond of glory.” “Taxes,” he says, "the result of war,
upon every article which enters into the month, or covers
the back, or is placed under the foot; taxes upon every
thing which it is pleasant to see, hear, feel, smell or taste;
taxes upon warmth, light and locomotion; taxes on every
thing on earth, and the waters under the earth—on every
thing that comes from abroad, or jsgrown at home: taxes
on the raw material: taxes on every fresh value that is
added to it by the industry of man; taxes on the sail:e
which pampers man’s appetite, and the drug that restores
lum to health; on the ermine which decorates the judge,
and the rope which hangs the criminal; on the poor
man’s salt, and the rich man's spice; on the brass nails of
the coffin ana the ribands of the bride; at bed or board,
eouebant or levant, w e must pay. The school boy whips
his taxed top; the beardless youth manages his taxed
hcree with a taxed bridle.’on a taxed road; and the dying
Englishman, pouring his medicine, which has paid 7 per
cent., into a spoon that has paid 15 per cent, flingshimself
back upon his chintz bed, which has paid 22 per cent, and
expires in the arms of an apothecary who has paid a
license of a hundred pounds for the privilege of putting
him to death. His whole property is then immediately
taxed from 2 to 10 per cent Beside Jhe probate, largo
fees are demanded for burying him in the chancel; his
virtues are handed down to posterity on taxed marble,
and heisthen gathered to his fathers—to be taxed no
more!”
The schedule to the tax bill of the United States of 1862,
“alphabetically arranged,” brings ypu and all of us with
in this category. I find no tax for an epitaph on marble,
but it is duly compensated by a tax of 3 per cent upon
your wooden coffin!
At such a time as this, you have the right peaceably,
but firmly, to advocate your interests and agitate for an
increase of the wages of labor. You have the right, and I
w ould recommend to you, the formation of societies cal
culated to protect and mutually to assist each other.
In the year 1824, the societies I have before alluded to
were inaugurated in all the large towns of England, and
in Paris, Lyons, and Marseilles, almost simultaneously.
Every trade union had its own code of laws. The legality
of them has been tested in English courts of law, and ap
proved, and the law of this country, more liberally ad
ministered than that of England, wonld sanction them.
You may exclude any member who violates any of the
enactments, but you have no right to intimidate nor to
coerce. I wish to guard those who did me the honor to
consult me against a fallacy, and it is but an act of justice
to your employers that I should do so. You have no right
to base your claim for an increased rate of wages upon
the ground that ihe employers have made, as many of
them probably have, large profits. Capital is but an ac
cumulation of labor, and if its investment has created
large and remunerative profits, yen have no right to share
The capitalist has to boar the risk of competition, bad
debts, and the various contingencies of his enterprise. If
his contract proves a loss, you would not think it reason
able that he should ask you to bear your proportion of
such loss by the reduction of your wages. This proposi
tion has been urged, but you will, if not already, I am
sure, be convinced of its injustice.
T venture to urge upon you, as I did upoii your brethren
in England, firmness in the assertion of your rights, tem
pered with the spirit of conciliation. Labor and Capital,
twin sisters of human improvement and civilization, are
closely identified. Any disturbance of the just and natural
laws which regulate the one. paralyzes and destroys the
other. The power you wield is vast. Be firm, because
you are in the right. Be conciliatory, because you are
strong. Labor and capital aro mutually dependent and
exist upon mutual concessions.
Born to toil myself, I have here, as I had in England,
every svmpathy enlisted in your cause ; and it is because
I saw the innermost workings of the vast movement
which the sons of labor originated there; because I knew
the lasting bitterness and acrimony which the cold and
heartless rejection of their just claims engendered ; be
cause I admired the undaunted firmness and intrepidity
which mon, conscious of right, under the severest trials,
evinced; that I address these lew lines to you. You have
not sought this conflict, circumstances have necessitated
it. Every motive of equity and justice should induce your
employers to meet vour demands, and, resist as they may
for a time, they must ultimately yield. Steadily pursue
your object. Violate no law’. Coerce no man. and your
movement will receive the approval of Public Opinion
and the support of the enlightened Press of this country,
. Yours, faithfully,
EDWIN" JAMBS.
No. 293 Broadway, New York,
November 14,1863.
maxima -tu
The number of Marshals of France,
by the recent death of the Count d’Ornano, is reduced to
ten. Six of these served in an inferior rank under the
first Napoleon. The ten now existing were created by the
present Emperor. One of them is Minister of War, ano
ther Minister of the Emperor's household, six hold impor
tant commands, one is placed at the head of the Imperial
Guard, and Marshal Forey, the last promoted, is expected
in France from Mexico.
Sunday Wition; aa;
W garfe of
Seduction and Robbery. —At the Sal*
ford sessions, England, William Broadbent was charged
with stealing, at Rochdale, on the 21st of March, a quan
tity of wearing apparel and £8 in money, the property of
Eliza Thorpe. The prosecutrix was one of a family re
siding at Cotehill, near Halhax. The father w’as engaged
in am’ll, and the prosecutrix and other sister earned
living by dressmaking. On the 3ith ot January, this vear,
the prisoner called at the house of the prosecutrix and
asked to see her father. He waited until Mr. Thorpe came
In, and then told him he was in partnership with his bro
ther in a mill at Sowerby Bridge and he wanted Mr.
Thorpe to come and work for him. At the same time ha
should not require Mr Thorp’s services for M.veraJl
months. Before he le t the house that night he a-ked
prosecutrix if she kept cimpany w’ith any one; and on
n:s second visit he a-ked her to keep company with him.
The prisoner kept company with Mbs Thorp until March,
when he took her with him to Bradford, under the nre’
fence of orderiig some machinery for his mill. About thffl
si me lime he boi rowed £l2 ndm .nits Thorpe, for the pap
pose, as he alleged, of paving some of his workmen.
When they were at Bradford, he took Miss Thome to sea
a friend m his of the name of Fox; they had tea. witli
Fox and his wife, and she returned the same night ho.ue.
Afterward the prisoner said trade was so bad he wms go
ing to sell his share in the mill to his brother, and wanfecl
Mb s Thorpe to go with him to America. She consented..
They afterward again went to Bradford and saw Fox.
Upon that occasion the -. risener told them he and Miss
Thorpe were about to be married, and were going to
America; and Fox proposed that he should accompany
them, and that his wile should follow. This was agreed
to. Miss Thorpe packed ud her best clothes in a box, anti
£8 in money; and on the 21st of March she, the prisoner’
and Fox proceeded to the Sowerby Bridge railway sta
tion, as she thought to go to Liverpool. Her sister went
with her to the station and saw them off. It was ar
ranged that they were to go direct to Liverpool and be
married there, sailing to America the same week. The
prisoner ar.d Fox, i owever, got out at Rochdale; and
the prisoner told her she must, also get out, as they
wanted to see some of his friends before they left the
country . Her box was taken out, and they all went
to the Weaver’s Arms, kept by Mr. Shepherd. That sama
night prisoner and Fox broke op» n .Miss Thorpe’s box
took her money, and pledged and sold all her clothes.
The prisoner and Miss Thorpe slept together tnat night
and the following night. They reached Rochdale on the
21st, and on the 21th they came on to Manchester. She
asked where her box was, and they eaid it had been dis
patched to Liverpool, so as to save their being bothered
with it. At Manchester, the prisoner slept one night witU
Miss Thorpe, and the following morning Fox disappeared.
The prisoner said he would go and see what had become
of Fox, and went out, but never returned. After waiting
several hours,Miss Thorpe began to suspect something was
wrong, and went out to look for the prisoner She did
not find him: and, being alarmed, thought he might have
gone to Rochdale, and so she determined to walk there.
On reaching that town she went to the Weavers’ Arms,
and found that neither the prisoner nor Fox had been
there. She then became so distracted as not to know*
what she did. and in that state of mind entered several
shops in succession, and stole articles of wearing appareL
She was taken up immediately by the police, and the fol
lowing mornirg refused to say anything about herself,
pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to two months’ im
prisonment, which she served in the New Bailey. Ora
coming out she was taken home by h<-r sister; a few days
afterward she went to Rochdale, and applied for a war
rant against Fox, who was tried at the July sessions, and.
sentenced to three vears’ penal servitude. The prisoner-
Broadbent, was in custody at the time for another offi nce.
The jury returned a verdict of guilty. The chairman told
the prisoner that the jury had very properly found him
guilty of this most scandalous offence, and there could not
be a doubt as to the diabolical scheme practised upon the
young woman, who had been the principal witness.
whereby she had been robbed of everything she
deprived of her honor, and then left in a most base man
ner by the prisoner. The prisoner had been imprisoned’
on three previous occasions—once for neglect of his wife
and family, and twice for obtaining money under fal-.e
pretences. The Court would no.t be doing its duty to the
p üblic if it did not carry out the extreme penalty of the
law. The prisoner was, therefore, sentenced to seven
years’ penal servitude
Cold-Bloodep Murder—A Planter
Shot Down in His Own House by a Notorious Despe
rado.—At a late hourTast night, says the Memphis Argus oi
September 26th, we learned the particulars of a most
atrocious murder, which was committed on Island No. 4%
sixteen miles above the city, on the Tennessee side, a lit
tle after sundown, on Thursday evening of last week.
The circumstances, as narrated to us, are substantially as
subjoined :
On the evening in question, the residence of a small
planter on the island, named Newsom, a quiet, inoffen
sive man, and much respected by his neighbors, was visit*
cd by a man known as Bill Godfrey, a notorious charac
ter, who bears the reputation of a desperado.
Godfrey remained some time, and, during a protracted
conversation, a dispute arose between him and Nev. -om,
which led to an open rupture between the parties. The
evening meal having been prepared during the wrangling,
Newson invited Godfrey to a seat at the table, doubtless
thinking that the easiest method of terminating the quar
rel. Godfrey refused, and the quarrel continued. What
immediately led to the tragedy could not be ascertained ;
but, before many more words were passed in anger, God
frey, in whose hand was a rifle, which he had held dur
ing the entire conversation, raised it to his shoulder, aim*
ed at Newsom and fired. The victim, who was standing
in his dining-room unarmed, fell to the floor, piercect
through ihe heart with a heavy charge of buckshot. He>
expired in a few moments afterward, amid the shrieks
and lamentations of his wife and children, who had wit
nessed the murder.
Godfrey remained' a silent spectator of the wretched
ness his crime had wrought,evincing no emotion whafeverj.
His indifference was so ma nifest that Mrs. Newsom, after
the first outbreak of grief, charged him with the (-.old
blooded murder of her husband. He made no answer,
but went to the fence, re loaded his gun and returned, in
forming her as he did so that it she were notsatisfled with
what he had done he could “settle” with her, at the same
time looking significantly at his gun. Soon afterward he
left the premises, but early on Friday morning returned,
addressed Mrs. Newsom very pleasantly, and offered to
assist her in interring her dead husband.
He made ho attempt to escape, and yesterday evening
was arrested and brought to this city by Lt. Clubb, com
mander of the Dicketboat Maquoketa City,whose prompt
ness and energy in the affair aro deserving of the highest
commendation. He arrived here at a late hour in the
night.
This man Godfrey, we understand, has resided for a
number of years in the neighborhood oi the scene of the
crime. He is generally regarded by the neighbors as a
desperate man, and his arrest has given universal satis
faction. While on his way to the city last night, he spoko
of the murder as though it were a mere trifle, and laugh
ingly informed one of the guard, who. had his gun, that
he would want the weapon in a day or two.
The Palmerston Scandal. —The grave
charges brought against Lord Palmerston largely occupy
the attention of the English press, and occasion reminis
cences that prove he is not the first Prime Minister who
incurred the heavy breath of scandal, nord Melbourne,
the father-in-law of Lord Palmerston, wascharge'd by the
Hon. Mr. Norton with a criminal intimacy with his wife,..
who is the celebrated poetess of that name, and was ac
quitted after a trial that is still memorable'. Mrs. Norton!
was a daughter of Sheridan, the. renowned author and.
orator, and was equally celebrated for her genius and
beauty. Lord Melbourne’s own wife, the celebrated Lady
Caroline Lamb, also furnished occasion for busy tongues
by her romantic attachment for Lord Byron, but it is be
lieved that her passion never overstepped the bounds of
discreet sentimentality. Her husband, at least, acquitted
her cl anything more, and though he separated from her,
he often visited her. and they always corresponded to
gi ther. She cherished her attachment to the great poet
till her death, and when by chance she met the hearse
conveying the remains of Lord Byron to No wstead Abbey,
she fainted in her carriage, and was prostrated by a se
vere illness in consequence of the shock, from which she
never recovered. Lord Palmerston is married to a daugh
ter of Lord Melbourne, and iscbi'dless, his title exnirinff
with him. Lady Palmerston has long been in England
what the Empress Eugenie is in France, the acknowl
edged leader and blight particular star and exemplar of
fashion. t Jie is a lady of great beauty nnd taste, and her
personal in fluence and winning manners have contributed
largely to hei husband's advancement. Queen Victoria,
never had much taste or influence in matters relating to
dress and fashion, while the iofluence of Lady Palmerston
was supreme, and she reigned witiu ut a rival in tne very
highest circles of British aristocracy, and even within the
domain of royalty itself.
Frightful Starvation of a Family.—-
Another shocking case of , ith from starvation .as taken
place in the East end. It appears that a respcc .ble fam
ily, carrying on a school at No 45 Da Beauvoir Square,.
s\est Hackney, have been plunged into a state of the
greatest destitution through the failure of the sc tool, and
that recently aif execution was nut into the h use, and
all the furniture and effects w -e e irried away. Recently
one of the children, Macauf y Josiah Brew?, twelve
years, was found by Dr. Kitchen lying withow .overing
in a room without furniture and without fire, i 5 dying
from the want of food and comfort Death soon alter put;
an end to his sufferings. Mr, wal the w held an Inquest.
Mr. Josiah Brewer, the father said lie was a schoolmas
ter. He took the house last Christmas, and had about
twelve scholars. He had nof more than ten shillings a
week to keep five children With When the execution
was put in the school was ups*t He did all he could for
deceased. None of the family had bedding or clothing ;
they lay on the floor Mr. Williams, coroner’s officei said
he found the family in the house without as r-tiehasa
chair or stool to sit upon. De< eased lay on the fl rdead,
with the bones almost coming Through the skin The
coroner said the parents oug ?i t io hate applied for relief’
to the pioper quarter, in*?ad of attempting to conceal
their deplorable condition, if a doctor had been called in
before, deceased might not have, been sacrificed. The
jury returned a verdict of ‘Death from effusion oi the
lungs, caused by want of fc.-Gd.” and the jurors added,
“that the parents showed neglect in not calling in medi
cal aid for the deceased before his death ” The .<oroner,.
the jury and the Rev. S. Finch, the incumbent
trict. raised a subscription, which amounted to
the unfortunate family.
Horrible Murder—Rebel Bab
—Two men of the Eight* ?nth Missouri, station
walla, were a few days ago found in a dying co
short distance from the pi< ket line. Their bo
bited marks of the most brutal violence, both , us
trated. The facts in the case; d <s near as we can ■ am, are
as follow : It seems that wly> u the war broke out there
lived in this neighborhood tw 0 families, named respect
ively Hill and Taylor. The Taylor family were Union
people, and the Hill family rebels. The Hills have been,
and arc still, in the rebel gue> r nia service, and Taylor
has acted as a. Union scout. Ab jut a week ago, Taylor,
while on some business, was at one of the picket posts,
when they were surprised by guerrillas, and were all
taken prisoners. Taylor, and another scout, who iceom
panied him, were, at once recognised by the rebels, and
they were surprised to find their o q enemy, Hill, among
them. It was at once decided to kill -m, and they wer©
both shot and left for dead—not, howc . until the brutal
nature of Hill was exhibited by castrat; of.them.
The men were found some time atte. w? rd and Taylor
was yet alive and able to date who his n , u ! de rers were.
The mothers of the murdered and iniirdv hovr
living at Corinth.— Carinth {Miss.) Chanticleer, 25.
A schoolmaster, beat a boy to deatlt
In school about live miles from the city of Y<wk, Eng*
land not long ago, under circumstances oi pecrtlar atro
city ’according to the . statements of a paper punished in .
that city. It seems that the boy a bright and high- ■
toned lad, thirteen years of age, and well advanc si in his
studies. He differed from the teacher as to the best
method of working out a problem in algebra, and the lat
ter, becoming enraged at the boy’s superiority, seized a
large stick and beat the boy over the head with it, inflict
ing injuries which resulted in Ins death. And yet an at- A
tempt is said to have been made to screen the ruffian un
der the. plea of necessary discipline ; but. the humanity
and good sense of the grand jury overrode the plea, an<i
he was indicted for manslaughter.
Singular Suicide. —A man named/
William Williams, living in Fourteenth street, applied at
tlie Meoical College, Thirteenth street, for some arsenic,
which he said was for the purpose of killing the rats
his house. The janitor, F. I>. Smade, noticing some ex- >
citementin his manner, advised him to go home and not
to purchase ihe poison. The infatuated man went direct
to the drug stoie corner of Ter th street and Third avenue*
and bought an ounce of creosote, and on arriving home,
deliberately swallowed a portion of tlie deadly liquid. No■ i
hopes are entertained of his recovery. It is said that fear
of beirg compelled to go into the military service 18 tbfl
cause of his committing this rash act.
A Tragic Deed has been perpetrated
in Naples- on the person of Count Giovanni Willeken, ata
oldman from Prussian Poland, who has lived in Nap.es
for many years. He was murdered in his residence, in»-
Ylade Chiaia, by his cook. The murder was committed
in the evening. The assassin, on leaving the house, coolly
told the porter that his master was dead, and that he was
going to inform the police. He has not been seen sinc&
Nothing was taken away, for which reason it. is suspected
that the murderer was paid for the crime, and that / onu
cal vengeance was at th? bottom of it, Count Willeken b©<
ing the correspondent of the Avgsberfj Giazctle,
All for Love.— A young servant
rffrl in South Borton became desperately enamored of
vmithVf nineteen a son of the family in which she hvedW
WbJn the intima-v was discovered, the boy was sent!
wfv and thSigivln an order ot' dismissal from
ud stairs to her room, and taking a large *
dose of arsenic! died the same day. in spite of all efforts it>
save her.
An awful tragedy took place recenft-
IV in Wolfstown, Canada. Tim wife of one James Sheri
to wliUe in a state of insanity, killed four ot her cuff-.
dren-the eldest being a line girl of 15. The instrument,
n-ed was an are. with which ihe bodies were l.cmt
inar.glcd. Her husband was absent at the time.

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