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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, January 31, 1864, Image 4

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Written for the New York Dispatoß.j
By M ar 1 o k.
And so ’tfe past—
A dream of youth—a brilliant
Too bright to last.
Now mastless, tailless, every seam
Strained by the tempest, the golden beam
Of sun is lost in lightning’s gleam.
Driven on rocks
By angry waves, the vessel, see!
She ieels the shock,
And trembles—’tis a human agony—
Misfortune’s waters fearfully
Beat on her—wreck to be.
She will go down—
Go down like many, many more—
Sink, ana drown
Her crew—no soul shall reach the shore.
Their knell shall be the ocean’s roar.
Their bleaching bones the waves wash o’er.
A noble ship
When she left port, her sails all new,
The waters dip.
A "ay commanaer, jolly crew.
With brilliant hopes, sky fair to view,
Each heart doth life with joy iinbuo.
She sailed forth
A3 gallant bark as e’er set sail
To meet waves’ wroth:
But ribs of steel did not avail—
She sank : and high above the gale
Went up to Heaven her crew’s wild wail.
Woe. woe to her!
O, woe 1 Alas! the trusting one—
Death shall incur—
Fruitless his struggles death to shun ;
Ere yet his life is well begun
His fate Is met. his race is run.
So do we all—
So all of us set sail from shore
At fortune’s call.
Short voyage ours : as heretofore,
And in the future, friends deplore
Our loss an hour, but never more.
Let us then live,
Enjoying life ’til life is over ;
All life will give
We ll take with zest—such zest as lover
Sips kisses with—and ne’er did rover
Live as we’ll live, in richest clover.
wt nn w I ■ wbpki
[Written for the New York Dispatch.]
On a certain occasion while a party of our
Red Devils were ‘ ‘ toasting their shins’ ’ by a
good camp-fire, a member of the —— Michi
gan regiment made his appearance, and hum
bly requested permission to place a cup of cof
fee near the blazing wood-pile, in order that the
said coffee might be rendered palatable by
Of course, the “red-legs” cheerfully con
sented, whereupon Michigan proceeded to
make them acquainted with a few particulars,
the relation of which was commenced as the
cup was placed on the burning embers, and
concluded at the moment when the beverage
began to boil. Perhaps I may be able to tell
the story in the same space of time—at all
events I will try.
Sergeant H of the —— Michigan regi
ment, was a young man whose noble quail tie
of heart and mind were well calculated to ren
der him a favorite with all who were capable
of appreciating tme merit. His quick temper,
however, might have drawn him into many
difficulties had it not been for the powerful
control which seldom deserted him, and which
he seemed capable of exerting at will.
Kind. generous, and brave as a lion, he was
ever ready to make the greatest sacrifices of
his own interests, to risk life or limb in the
cause of truth and justice.
He had earned his “ three stripes” by meri
torious conduct in the battle of Williamsburgh,
and had been promised a lieutenant’s commis
sion upon the first vacancy that should occur
in the regiment.
Among the members of Company B, to
which he belonged, was a sullen, dark-browed
man by the name of Conrad L , a silent,
mysterious character, who was said to have In
dian blood in his veins, and to possess a mali
cious and vindictive disposition. It was evi
dent from the first moment of his meeting with
H that he looked upon the young soldier
with sreret dislike, although the latter treated
him with the same kindly frankness and cordi- ■
ality that he exhibited towards his other com
At the battle of Williamsburgh, Conrad be
haved in a very creditable manner, but, not
withstanding the fact that II , who was
then a ci rporal, spoke highly of his conduct,
and recommended him to the captain for pro
motion, that officer did not take any notice of
the matter. In fact, Conrad’s reserve and tac
iturnity were against him. The officers dis
liked him, and the men were repelled by his
gloomy manner. All the efforts of H to
effect a change in the feelings of the soldiers
toward their dark comrade were exerted in
vain ; v. hile the hand of friendship, which the
sergeant extended to him, was sullenly re
In fact, since II ’s promotion, Conrad’s
dislike for him seemed to have increased. It
was evident that he was jealous of the honors
that had been conferred upon the young sol
dier, and hated him, notwithstanding his
kindly exertions in his behalf.
One morning, while the company was gather
ed around a camp-fire, engaged in preparing
muskets for inspection, one of the men turned
to Sergeant H , and asked him whether he
had heard of “ that affair of the drummer,
John C ——
“No,” replied the sergeant. “What was
“Why, you see,” replied the soldier, “it
happened yesterday afternoon John was out
in the road a short distance from the camp,
practising with Iris drum, when the colonel
came riding along behind him, and shouted to
him to get out of his way. Bat it seems that
John rn .de so much noise that he didn’t hear
the order, and so stood where he was, and con
tinued to beat his drum. This so enraged the
colonel, that he drew his sword and struck the
boy upon the head with the handle, knocking
him senseless to the ground. The poor fellow
was picked up by some cf his comrades, and
carried to the hospital tent, where he now lies,
in a brain fever.”
“Heavens!” exclaimed II , with flash-
ing eyes, “the colonel ought to be shot for
As the sergeant uttered these words, we
noticed that Conrad, who had hitherto been
engaged in polishing the lock of his piece, sud
denly looked up with a strange, malicious
gleam in his sunken orbs. But the next mo
dent his head was again bent down, and he
continued his work, apparently heedless of the
farther remarks of his comrades.
In the afternoon, about an hour after our
two o’clock drill, and while we were strolling
about the company street, the officer of the
guaid suddenly made his appearance accom
pai ied by two of his men.
“ Sergeant II !”
“ Here, sir!” answered the sergeant, spring
ing from his tent.
“You are under arrest,” said the officer,
“by order of the colonel. Take him to the
guard-house!” he added, turning to the two
“ Why, what does this mean ?” inquired the
“Did you not make use of rebellious lan
guage, this morning ?”
II— —. started. He evidently remembered
his remark, that the colonel ought to be shot.
But who had repeated his word to the com
manding officer ? All eyes were turned upon
the face of Conrad, who grew pale beneath the
scrutiny. The men doubted not that he was
the tale-bearer —that he had resorted to this
mean triek to win the favor of the colonel,
and at the same time ruin his comrade. He
evidently believed that he would now be pro
moted to H ——’s position, while the sergeant
would be reduced to the ranks. But he was
partly disappointed in his expectations.
H was confined in the guard tent for
two weeks, at the end of which time he was
released, after having been reduced, as Conrad
had hoped. Beit the latter was not appointed
to fill his place. The honor was conferred
upon the fifth corporal. From, that mom nt
Conrad did not attempt to conceal his dislike
of the colonel, who had refused to award
him the position which would have enabled
him to repay with a thousand acts of petty
tyranny the many slights and hard knocks re
ceived from his comrades since the betrayal of
their favorite. The latter was strangely al
tered after his release from confinement. His
brow w; s clouded, and he seemed to brood
continually upon his disgrace. The frank,
hearty laugh no longer rang from his lips.
There wi.s a certain expression in his eyes
which was hard to interpret. Some of the men
thought it promised mischief.
During this state of affairs the regiment re
ceived orders, one morning, to get ready to
drill in “loading and firing.”
EJAccorcingly at the first tap of the drum the
companies were assembled, the roll was called
and blai k cartridges were distributed to the
men. A cartridge of this kind, as our readers
are well aware, contains no bullet, and is,
therefore, often used in the kind of drill to
which wi have alluded. After each mim had
received the requisite number of these harm
less “ reporters” and placed them in his pock
et, the captain of Company B, according to
custom, proceeded to inspect the cartridge
boxes of the men.
Each of these boxes should have contained
forty rounds of powder and ball cartridges, as
that number was distributed to every man on
the previous day. A careful inspection re
vealed the fact that all the boxes, with the
exception of one, contained the requisite
amount. That exception was the box of 11-—,
in which the captain could only count thirty
nine cartridges. The young man seemed
much surprised when he was informed of the
fact, and said that he could not account for
the matter in any way, as he was certain he
had placed the full number in his box on the
preceding day.
But at this moment the sound of the drum
er ded further investigation of the matter, and
the companies marched off to form line.
Presently having moved to the ground ap
pointed for the drill, the regiment was halted,
and brought to a shoulder arms. Then camo
the order to “ load at will,” when each man
took a blank cartridge from his pocket and
rammed it into the barrel of his piece.
Mounted upon his horse and occupying a
position in front of the line, the colonel gave
the order to “ fire by company,” and immedi
ately afterwards to “ commence firing I”.
Volley after volley rolled in succession from
company to company, and presently it was the
turn of B’s men to discharge their pieces.
‘ ‘ Company B ! Ready ! aim ! fire !’ ’
shouted the captain.
The rifles were discharged with a simultane
ous crash, and at the same moment, the col
onel who was directly in front of this company,
was seen to throw up his hands and fall from
his horse.
A low groan—a few convulsive struggles,
and he was a corpse. A bullet had pierced
his brain, a bullet from the ranks of company
B. The deed must have been intentional,
as no man in the regiment could have been
ignorant of the contents of his own rifle.
Who was the guilty party ?
The question passed from lip to lip. Invol
untarily the glance of II ’s comrades in
front and rear rank were turned towards the
young soldier. “The colonel deserves to be
shot for that 1”
These words which he uttered a few weeks
previously now recurred to the minds of those
who had heard them. And then they recalled
his subsequent confinement in the guard-tent,
his reduction to the ranks, and the gloomy
change in his manner after his release. A
dark and desperate desire for revenge upon the
colonel who had inflicted his punishment, had
evidently taken possession of his heart.
While thoughts of this nature were passing
through the minds of his companions, the
young man stood erect, clutching his rifle with
a tight grasp; and, although Iris face was
deadly irate, returning glance for glance with
an expesssion of defiance, almost amounting to
fierceness, in his eagle eyes.
The body of the colonel was carried off by
a detail, selected for that purpose, and then
the officers who remained grouping themselves
together, seemed to hold a consultation, dur
ing which many ominous glances were thrown
in the direction of II .
Presently the captain of Company B. ad
vanced and ordered him to surrender his car
tridge-box and musket. He obeyed, when
turning to the other officers the captain open
ed the box and held it towards them.
“ Gentlemen,” he remarked, in a solemn
tone, “if you count those cartridges you will
perceive there are but thirty-nine, and you
know that forty rounds were delivered to all
the men yesterday, in place of the old ones
which they had canted so long.”
One of the officers proceeded to count the
contents of the box.
“You are right,” said he, when he had
finished, “ there are but thirty-nine.”
Dark and significant glances were now ex
changed. They might have been interpreted
by a child. The aftair was circulated from lip
to lip. An ominous murmur was perceptible
along the whole length of the line.
Forty cartridges in every box except that
of II— —, which could show but thirty-nine !
H belonged to company B, too, the one
from which the fatal bullet had been dis
charged! This seemed to afford proof con
clusive that he was the guilty party.
“Yes,” remarked the captain, as he con
tinued to discuss the matter with the other
officers, “ I missed the cartridge when I in
spected his box in the company street, before
we formed line ; for I noticed then that he
had but thirty-nine rounds. But not for a
moment did I suspect that the fatal load was
“in his rifle!”
The officers now looked with severe but
half-pitying glances upon ll——. Pale as
death, but apparently deprived of the power
of speech the young man stood as though
rooted to his place in the ranks. His lips
moved convulsively but emitted no sound,
while his eyes were fixed despairingly upon
the tell-tale cartridge-box, held in the hand
of his captain. Presently the latter ordered
a corporal and three men to conduct him to
the guard-tent, after which the regiment was
marched into camp. Soon afterwards the
companies “broke ranks,” when on all sides,
the men might have been seen gathered in
groups discussing in an excited manner the
melancholy events which had just taken
place. They all evinced much friendly sym
pantby for H with but one exception.
That exception was Conrad, who seemed una
ble to conceal his exultation from his compan
ions. He was evidently delighted at the
turn of affairs and was even heard to chuckle
when a gallows was mentioned in connection
with II .
The latter’s trial took place a few weeks af
terwards. The evidence against him was so
strong that it was believed to be conclusive.
He was pronounced guilty and sentenced to
be hung, although he had firmly declared that
he was innocent of the crime imputed to his
The day for his execution arrived. The
gallows had been erected in a large open field,
a short distance from the camp, and was now
surrounded by more than twenty different reg
iments which, according to military custom,
had been marched to the place to witness the
melancholy affair.
H mounted the scaffold with a firm
step, and when asked whether he had any
thing to say, replied iu a loud, clear, and ring
ing voice,
“Yes, before God and man I declare that I
am innocent.”
The next moment, the fatal noose was
about to be placed around his neck, when an
officer, covered with dust and almost breath
less with hard riding, was seen forcing his way
through the ranks, and waving his sword
about his head. The executioners suspended
their operations, and a moment afterward the
officer was at the foot of the gallows. He was
the captain of Company B.
“Hold!” he exclaimed, “for God’s sake
don’t execute an innocent man!”
Explanations followed. The captain had
left camp that morning with a detail of men
for picket duty, among whom was Conrad
L-—. Shortly after he was posted, the lat
ter had shot himself accidentally through the
neck. A stretcher was procured, he was placed
upon it, and carried back to camp, accompa
nied by the captain, who desired to give a
truthful report of the accident. The surgeon
pronounced the wound mortal; and when Con
rad perceived that he had but a few hours to
live, he summoned the captain, and made a
confession which fully established the inno
cence of II .
Conrad had entered the young man’s tent
while he was absent on the morning of the
drill, and abstracting the' cartridge from his
(H- ’s) box, placed the fatal load in his own
rifle, for the purpose of shooting the colonel,
who had made an enemy of him since the
hour when he refused him promotion. By
shooting his commander witlr the cartridge
abstracted from H— —’s box, he preventd sus
picion from being directed toward himself,
while it did not fail to be fastened upon ll—-.
His missing cartridge, together with other cir
cumstances which have already been alluded
to, brought a weight of evidence against him,
which resulted in Iris being convicted.
By this means, Conrad had hoped to re
move from his path the two men against
whom he had conceived the most violent
hatred. One of them, as wo have seen, had
already fallen a -victim to the treacherous
scheme, but the other, by the intervention of
a kind providence, was now rescued from the
very jaws of death, and his honor again estab
We have but a few more words to add.
Conrad Jived long enough to repeat his con
fession to the authorities appointed to govern
the proceedings relating to the execution,
when H- ’s innocence was made known,
and he was released to take his place among
his comrades.
After the veterans had crowded around him
and shaken Iris hand, they lifted their capsand
, cheered again and again. The other regi-
ments having received permission to imitate
their example, the din of thirty thousand
voices rolled in a chorus of wild thanksgiving
to the skies.
A few weeks from that time H received
a lieutenant’s commission.
IWritten for tlio New York Dispatch.]
“If my wife never does any work in her life,
She shan’t be blamed by me.”
“Crying again! Well, it’s a pity that after
man’s been doing business all day, he can’t
come to his own home, and find a little quiet, ’ ’
and Mr. Charles Morris encased himself in his
comfortably cushioned chair and drew up be
fore the well-filled table.
“ Not anything to eat that I see,” he con
tinued, at the same time helping himself to
bountiful supply; “ Clara, why don’t you give
that child to Bridget? seems to me I could
manage differently.”
“ I do not think Ida is quite well, Charles,”
returned the young wife with a weary look,
“ I would rather take care of her myself; be
side, Bridget has been washing all day.”
“ Well my dear, as I said before, I could do
differently.” “ Charles my son,” he con
tinued rising from the table, “ hand pi his
cane, it’s about time I was at the lodge.”
“ Charles wants to go too, pa, I will go,”
said the young hopeful, taking hold of his
father’s coat.
“ So you shall, my son, when you get to be
a man like pa. There,” he continued, disen
gaging the child's hand, who set up a roar of
defiance, “ go and play horsey with mamma.
Clara, love, you look tired; try and get a little
rest. Well 1 must be off.”
For a long time after her husband’s depar
ture, Mrs. Morris sat with one of her little
white hands pressed to her burning brow,
while with the other she endeavored to soothe
the restless babe. Master Charles had placed
himself behind his mother’s chair, and was
giving vent to Iris feelings by kicking the
rocke rs.
This annoying pursuit the young gentleman
saw fit to continue, until, weary with his own
exertions, he sank down upon the carpet, and
his mother was endeavoring to raise him in
her arms when the door opened, and a man
who had apparently passed the prime of life/
entered the apartment.
“0! Uncle Nat, is it you?” Mrs. Morris
said, with a faint smile, “ I am so glad you've
come ; Bridget must have gone out, and Char
lie has fallen asleep. ’ ’
“The same old song,” returned the old
gentleman, with a serious look. “ Niece, I
am ashamed of you. If any one would have
told me that my little merry mischief-loving
Clara would have been guilty of spoiling a
husband, I would have knocked him down, I
would ;” and the old gentleman made a des
perate thrust in the air.
“ Charles is so much confined to business,”
stammered Mrs. Morris.
“ Charles is a humbug,” returned Uncle
Nat; “but I don’t blame him. It’s your
fault, niece. Do you hear ? I say it’s your
fault. All I hope is that you’re not past cure,
I’ve a plan to propose.”
“ What is it uncle ?” Mrs. Morris asked, in
a more animated tone than she had before
“ In the first place, then, you must excuse
your old uncle if he tells you that you are los
ing your good looks, secondly you are growing
rusty. Where are your books ? Where’s your
music? You’ll say you have music enough,
I suppose,” pointing to the sleeping children
■whom he had placed on the sofa. “Nothing
of the sort; or do you suppose your husband
thanks you for giving up all your accomplish
ments andbecoming a mere household drudge ?
Not he, indeed ; I doubt if he ever gives the
matter a thoughit”
“ But Charles is not unkind, and I wish
to have the care of my own children.”
I do not blame you for caring for your chil
dren, it is for not caring for yourself; for spoil
ing a husband who might otherwise have
learned to appreciate you, and now I pro
pose the remedy. To-morrow morning, say
ten o’clock, niece, I shall call at this house,
and will expect to find you ready to accom
pany me to W , to pay a visit to your
Aunt Encourt, whom you have not seen since
your marriage.”
“Impossible, uncle ! it is not to be thought
of! W hat would Charles say ?” Mrs. Morris
asked in an amazed tone.
“Charles has got nothing to do with the
matter. I shall riot ask his advice,” Uncle
Nat returned, authoritatively ; “my object is
to teach him a lesson, which I trust will bene
fit you both to the end of your lives.”
“ But he could not do without me and my
children. I never can consent to leave my
children, even for a short time.”
“There’s no need of your leaving little Ida ;
for Aunt Encourt would like to see her name
sake ; as for Master Charles it will do him
good to be left with pa, for with all due def
erence for your husband and son, I must say,
Clara, Master Charlie is a chip of the old
block and needs remodeling.”
After much persuasion, in which many ar
guments were brought to bear, the most forci
ble of which was Charles’ remarkable talent
for housekeeping, and the superior manage
ment of which he had so often boasted, Mrs.
Morris reluctantly consented to accompany
her uncle, begging, however, that she might
“just tell dear Charles.” To this Uncle Nat
wiuld not consent, and as his niece had had
substantial proof of his real regard for herself
and husband, she at length agreed to accom
pany him on his own terms.
The next day dawned bright and beautiful,
just such an one as Uncle Nat would have
chosen, and with a buoyant step the old gen
tleman entered his niece’s sitting-room, -where
he found her slowly preparing for the journey.
Without noticing her apparent reluctance,
he vigorously applied himself to gathering up
the various parcels, remarking, with a pleased
expression, as he stowed them away in the
camage box :
“ Here goes, little box, big box, band-box,
and bundle. Now come, Clara, let me stow
you away, for I will never undertake to look
after all these fixings.”
Giving a last lingering look at Charlie,
whom Uncle Nat had coaxed into rare good
humor with a dram much larger than himself,
which Bridget was “ bating for the young giu
tleman, Mrs. Morris allowed her uncle to
assist her in the carriage, and, -with little Ida
comfortably arranged, they drove off.
The day was drawing to a close, when
Charles Morris, out of humor in consequence
of being detained by a troublesome customer,
wended his way home, expecting, as usual, to
find a comfortable supper and patient wife, on
whom he might inflict that ill humor.
What was his surprise, then, to find, not the
comfoitable supper and patient wife, but
Bridget, seated behind the tea-urn, evidently
inclined to do the honors of a kind of dubious
repast, of which the chief feature was.a huge
dish of potatoes.
“Where’s Mrs. Morris?” the master of the
house, asked in consternation, taking in at a
glance the contents of the table.
“ Shure, yer honor, Mrs. Morris wint away
wid her uncle, and he tould mo as how he’d
be after cornin’ in to make it right wid ye.”
Scarcely had Bridget finished speaking, and
before Charles Morris could express his sur
prise and indignation, in walked Uncle Nat.
“Good evening, nephew,” he said, in one
of his happiest moods, “ it’s a fine evening;
think we’ll have frost to-night ?”
“ I don’t know ; that is—confound it—l do
believe that fire is going out.’ ’
“It’s rather cold, that’s a fact,” continued
Uncle Nat, buttoning up. “I just thought
I’d step in and tell you about Clara.”
“Yes; Clara!” Charles returned, vainly
endeavoring to assume a less'anxious tone.
“Why did she leave so strangely, and not
mention the journey to me ?”
“I must take the blame, nephew,” con
tinued Uncle Nat, “ for the fact is, I think she
needs a change. With difficulty I persuaded
her to visit her Aunt Encourt, whom you
know she has not seen since her marriage.
She made a great fuss about leaving you and
Charlie, and all that sort of thing ; but I told
her you were a beautiful manager, and would
be delighted to have the care of Charlie for a
few days. But, I declare, I’m keeping you
from your supper,” Uncle Nat said, with a
comical expression, rising and bowing himself
By this time, Bridget, overcome with the
strenuous exertions she had made “ to I rate
Master Charlie’s new drum,” had fallen
asleep, and was snoring loudly behind the
tea-um. Casting a resigned look in the direc
tion of the sleeping Biddy, and, doubtless, set
tling in his own mind that the lesser evil of
the two would be to allow her to remain in
her somniferous condition, Mr. Morris seated
himself at the table, and made a desperate at
tempt to wash down a cold potato with
colder cup of tea. At this juncture, how Ivor,
Master Charlie, who had been quietly ale 'ping,
awoke, and united his roaring with Biddy's
snoring, to the distraction of his miserable pa,
who vaialy endeavored to hush his cries, for
mamma hurried with him off to bed, inwardly
wondering howdilara managed to quiet ills
son while he war away at lodge, club, or other
places of amusement.
After passing a most uncomfortable night,
the unhappy Morris rose early, hoping that by
superintending the breakfast arrangements,
he might at last get a comfortable meal. In
this, however, he was mistaken, for Bridget's
prolonged slumbers in the cold dining room,
had not left her in a very amiable mood, and
no sooner did she espy the unfortunate “Bene
dict” than the vial of her wrath was opened,
and poured out upon him.
“ Shure, and is it yer honor, as ’ll be after
’tinding to the breakfast ? Faith, and on me
sowl, it’s not to be ordered 'round be a pair
of pantaloons, that I left ould Ireland. Bad
’cess to ye, but I ll give yer warning, ye ould
vilyant, for it’s not Bridget O’Fladidyas ’ll be
put on, be the likes of ye, yer inurthering spal
peen, and now as I’m on the subject, I’ll be
after spaking me mind, and so I will, fur
ni,ver a fut ’ud I put in yer house, had it not
been fur the young misthress, as is a sight too
good for an ould sarpint like yersel,” and the
enraged Bridget flourished the dishcloth in the
most tragic manner.
Beating a hasty retreat from Biddy’s quar
ters, for strange to say, this self-reliant, man
aging masculine, felt entirely unable to cops
with the Irish damsel, ho made his way to his
son’s apartment, where the young gentleman
lay roasing like a mad bull
Lifting him from tire couch, the affectionate
parent endeavoreel to array him in his habili
ments, and perform the morning ablution, but
what with kicking and twisting he came near
choking the young hopeful in his endeavors
to extricate his neck from straps and strings,
and was at length compelled to carry him to
the enraged Biddy, who loudly declared that
the ‘ ‘ ould vilyant had near murthered the
dear child, and as she didn't intendto stand
sich goin’s on, he might look for a ‘ new help’
as scon as he plased, ns she’d bo after laving
that same day.”
Profiting by this suggestion, the wretched
man left the house, and after regaling himself
at an eating saloon, he made his way to air
office where •'the best help” was advertised.
After examining several of the aspirants for “a
place/’ and patiently submitting in turn to an
examination as to “ How large a farn'ly there
might be—whether the kitchen was kivered
wid oilcloth,” and all the other etceteras, ho
finally came to terms with a good-natured,
though not over smart looking native of the
Emerald Isle, who rejoiced in the name of
Mollie McFinigan.
“ I shall expect to see you to-night, Mollie,
when I return from business,” he said, as he
was about to leave the place. “ Make things
as comfortable as possible.”
“ It’s mesel’ as U do it. But what might
yer honor be after nading for supper ?”
‘ ‘ I shall take a light supper down town to
night. Have a good fire, and amuse Charlie,
and I shall be satisfied.”
These directions were fulfilled to the letter,
for on his return he not only found a good
fire in the sitting-room, but master Charlie in
one of his rare good humors, perched on the
“ new help’s” shoulder, driving her “round
the room.”
Congratulating himself on the treasure he
had at last secured, he spent a quiet evening
reading, and at an early hour, prepared to re
tire, saying as he left the apartment, that he
would like some “scolloped oysters” for
“Yer orders shall be obeyed,” said the good
natured Mollie, with a low courtesy.
On the following morning, Morris arose
much refreshed by his night slumber, and re
pairing to the breakfast-room, pleasantly re
quested Mollie “to bring on the scolloped oys
“The scolloped oysters,” she repeated, with
a dubious] look. Och, faith, and on mo
sowl! I hope yer honor’ll bo plased wid the
cut ot thim, fur thar the quarest cratures I
iver undertook to fagure on, thay kept strip
ping, and shlipping, aels couldn’t bate thim ;
an sorra the bit of a schollop I fear, as yer
honor'll be after finding on one of thim,” she
said, sitting a dish of raw oysters upon the ta
ble, cut out in the most extraordinary shape.
For a few moments, Charles Morris seemed
beside himself with disappointment and indig
nation, but at length the ludicrous side of the
picture struck him so forcibly, that with a loud
burst of laughter, he rushed from the apart
ment, while Mollie, in amazement, put up her
hands and wondered if the master had clane
gone out of bis mind, and if a little “ yarb
tea” wouldn’t do him good.
Mr. Morris didn’t go to business that morn
ing, but wisely passed it in his library, reflect
ing on the error of his ways, and the conse
quence was, he made a firm resolve that if he
didn’t make quite so good a “mason,” (we
think masonry like all other good things, an ex
cellent institution when not abused/ and attend
the chibs so frequently, he would stay more at
home with his family, and allow his wife to
manage her own affairs, in her own way.
Moral for those whom it may concern.
Ye meddling lords and masters, know that
home is the place where you should take all
the sunshine you are possess of, for while we
wouldn’t advise all the “sisterhood” to make
journeys in the absence of their “ worscr
halves,” extreme cases need extreme cures.
We have recently met with a most remark
able volume, of which our captain is its title.
The name of the author is 11. Spicer, a gentle
man well known in the literary circles of Lon
don, as a contributor to All the Year Around.
This bock was published in the spring of the
present year, but as it has not been reprinted
in the United States, wo venture to epitomize
one of its marvels—being the account of 'The
Bird Woman — the most ordinary freak of na
ture which we have ever heard.
Somewhat painful in details, it is sufficiently
grotefque for a place in a volume of German
fancies, although we are assured that it actual
ly occurredjin England, but a short time since.
The narrator—a girl of the servant class, but
of rather superior address—had called on Mr.
Spicer’s sister as to a situation, to which she
had been recommended, and in the course of
conversation related the following as a recent
experience. The advertisement in which she
had set forth her willingness to take charge of
an invalid, infirm, or lunatic person, or to as
sume any office demanding great steadiness of
nerve, was applied to by a lady living in the
outskirts of the city, who requested her attend
ance at an appointed hour. The house proved
to be a dingy, deserted looking mansion. It
had a haunted and sinister aspect, and the
girl, as she rang the bell, was sensible of a
misgiving for which she could-not account,
but she possessed courage and firmness.
A lady-like person, the mistress of the house,
opened the door, and, conducting the appli
cant into an adjoining apartment, informe I
her that her task would be of a very trying
and peculiar nature, requiring firmness and
courage. The girl, nothing daunted, wished
to be made acquainted with the nature of her
duties. The mistress, thereupon, leading the
way to a back apartment, unlocked the door,
as about to enter, but hesitatingly. She
warned her companion that she was about to
be brought face to face with a spectacle that
might well try the strongest nerves. With
tliis not very reassuring preface they both en
tered the room, which was very gloomy. On
the floor, in one corner, was plainly distin
guishable what looked like a bundle of clothes
in disorder. However, it appeared to be in
motion, and the mistress told the girt not to
be alarmed, adding, “If she likes you, she’ll
hoot—if (she don’t, she’ll scream.” At that
moment, from the heap of clofhes, there rose
a head, that made the stranger’s blood ran
chill. It was human, indeed, in general struc
ture ; but it exhibited, in place of nose, a large
beak, curved like thatof an owl! Twostaring
yellow eyes increased the bizzarre resem
blance, while numerous tufts of some feathery
substance sprouting from a skin, hard and
black as a parrot’s tongue, completed this hor
rible intermingling of bird and woman.
. As they approached, the unhappy being rose
and sunk with the measured motion of a bird
upon a perch, and presently opening its mouth,
gave utterance to a hideous and prolonged “tu
whoo.” “All right,” said the lady, “she
likes you.” They were both, as it were,
standing over the unfortunate freak of nature.
“ Have you courage to lift her?” inquired the
lady. “Try.” The girl, though recoiling,
instinctively from the contact, nerved herself
to the utmost, and, putting her arm s beneath
those of the still hooting creature, strove to
raise her up. In doing so, the hands became
disengaged from the clothes. They were
black, and armed with long curved talons,
like those of a bird of prey. Even this new
discovery might not have made the girl’s
i courage fail, had she not, as had seemed to bo
the case, crouched on the ground, but balanced
on an actual perch or rail, round which her
feet closed and clung by means ef talons simi
lar to those which adorned her hands. So ir
repressible was the feeling of horror, that now
overcame the visitor, that, after one desperate
effort of self-control, she was forced to let goof
the thing she held. A wild, unearthly scream
that rang through the house marked the crea
ture’s change of mood. The baleful eyes shot
yellow fire, and scream after scream pursued
her as she fairly fled from the apartment, fol
lowed at a steadier pace by the lady. The lat
ter took the gir l into the parlor—did all in her
power to soothe her agitation, and expressed
no surprise when she declared, that ten times
the liberal amount offered, would not tempt
her to undertake such an unnatural charge.
AMUESS? OX* T2IS 8013133.
&c., &c.
Truly there is no want of novelty of the
most startling character in this great city.
The men and women are not wanting to play
their parts either in ordinary dramatic per
formances, or in the heavier tragedies such as
we read of in olden tales. The past week has
been prolific of several new instances of the
varieties wo refer to, and we are reminded that
we live in the midet of a wicked and adulter
ous generation, who appear to have broken
loose from all the decent usages of society,
and to set at defiance the laws of retributive
justice, as if they never could be overcome by
the rankness and the recklessness of the very
follies which they seem determined to execute.
The manner in which Win. H. Williams, the
well-known bill-poster, came to his death on
W ednesday last is a shocking and horrible ex
ample of the manner in which “ a man’s sins
are sure to find him out.” Williams was a
sober, industrious, and to all appearances a re
spectable man, whom no person with whom ho
had held business relations would havesuspected
of the dishonorable transaction of which the
event in which he was called to yield his life
was the terrible revelation.
It appeal's that within the space of a few years
he became acquainted with the wife of Robert
C. Haines, an English painter, and through
the friendship thus existing, became the friend
also of Mr. Haines’ wife. As his relations to
the latter became closer, his friendship with
her husband waxed cold, and at length Mrs.
Louisa Haines absented herself from her home,
and was lost to the sight of her husband for a
long time. During this dark and unhappy in
terval, Williams and Haines were in the habit
of meeting each other on terms of professed
friendship. Haines was an unhappy wretched
man walking about the streets night and
day in search Of his wife. Ho could not
trace her himself, nor could any trace of
her be found by any person of whom he
made the anxious inquiry, Williams included
among hosts of others. At length, Haines
lighted upon the object of his heart, and
discovering that she had, dll the time of his
painful suspense, actually been living with
Williams as his wife, he, with a magnanim
ity more manly, perhaps, than discreet,
pleaded with her to return to her legitimate
home —to go back to his bed and board, and
live again in love and felicity with each
other as they had vowed they would till
death them did part, while their -first and
purest love yet burned in. their bosoms, beat
ing sweet and mutual responses in the hope
of long life and future happiness. He prom
ised that if she would return to tho honor
able relation of wife, he would let tho history
of the adulterous transaction of which sho
had been guilty sleep in the retirement of
oblivion; that he would conduct her to a vil
lage home somewhere in the country, where
the promised oblivion, together with the
blissful ignorance of strangers, would con
tribute to that desired happiness which he
pictured in the warmest and most glowing
language of affection, such as could only
flow from a heart “bowed down with sorrow
and oppressed with grief.” The erring wife
heard the appeal, but it was all useless. A
heart so far blinded to a sense of the com
mon virtue of woman, saw no poetry in the
professions of attachment addressed to her
by her lawful husband, and the thrilling
story of Haines’ grief fell in her ears like
some passing chilly blast of the winter’s
wind. She treated him with scornful con
tempt, and in a derisive manner informed
him that she would prefer if he would never
speak to her or see her again.
Again and again, he did see her and en
treated her as at first, but the soul which had
steeled itself to virtue and duty was cold be
yond hope. All affinity on her part had
vanished (if such had ever existed). The
poor man turned aside as if all the world
had poured its coldness upon him and its
relentless denial of comfort to him. The
faithlessness of his wife preyed upon his
mind, and to all appearance he soon be
came subject to that melancholy which too
often indicates the abandonment of reason
from its throne and its sway, and reduces its
victim to the irresponsible being who should
be cared for by society and placed beyond
the reach of violence on his part to others,
or from others to him, or upon himself. He
meditated suicide, and seemed to hesitate as
to whether it was not best for Williams to
die instead of him. Could Williams have
comprehended the depth of his disgrace in
seducing Mrs. Haines from her husband,
and could he have reflected upon the awful
state of Mr. Haines’ feelings under the cir
cumstances, for he was not unaware that he
held a very uncertain tenure of his life while
he (Haines), was at large. Haines had
threatened that he would take the life of
Williams, and prudence would have dic
tated to him the safety of keeping himself
out of sight. Accordingly, on Wednesday
about 1 o’clock, Haines went to the house of
Williams, No. 280 Grand street, where they
met at the door, and where the tragedy oc
curred. He stepped up to Williams, and
asked him to deliver up his wife to him,
when the bill poster, dreaming not of his
peril— that in another moment he would be
summoned to the bar of eternal justice by
the hand of his victim—answered contempt
uously and boldly “Go to h—.”
Haines raised a double-barreled pistol to
the head of Williams, and fired the fatal
shot, and fired yet again, both shots passing
into the brain of the offending Williams, and
killing him instantly. The deceased made
not a struggle.
Immediately Haines rushed into the house
of Williams to get at his wife, whether with
the intention of shooting her is not known,
unless the fact of a loaded revolver having
been found in his pocket after his arrest
would indicate such an intention. At all
events a policeman arrested him before he
had made any demonstration of a dangerous
character. The body of the deceased was
picked up and conveyed to the station-house
of the Tenth Precinct, by Mr. James A. Lu
cas, telegraph operator, and others, where
Coroner Wildey subsequently held an in
quest on it, and the facts which we have set
forth were elicited. The jury returned a
verdict in accordance with ' the foregoing
On searching the prisoner, the revolver
already referred to, andabottle of laudanum
were found on his person. Ho said that it
was his intention to take the laudanum, and
thereby finish his earthly afflictions.
Mrs. Haines exhibited emotion during the
inquest, but there is little sympathy for her.
owing to the manner in which she treated
her husband. On his reaxmination Haines
said that he was a native of England, was 41
years of age, resided at No. 26 Rivington
street, and was a painter.
We knew the deceased well, but would
never have suspected him of tho course he
had been pursuing, and which brought him
to so untimely an end. His friends in the
lower part of the city are legion, aud deeply
regret the unhappy circumstances under
which his life was forfeited.
Of course, the latest plan adopted by Mr.
Haines to get possession of his wife, or to
obtain revenge, is reprehensible; but tens of
thousands will sympathize with him in the
deep and bitter anguish which afflicted his
heart by reason of his wife's conduct to him.
The perseverance with which he pleaded with
her to become reconciled to him is indi
cated in the most feeling manner in the fol
lowing letter, which the prisoner had not
yet, for some reason, had an opportunity to
deliver :
Mr Dr.vrt Wife : This is the fourth letter I
have sent to you, hoping still to win you back to
lead a better" life. I am still willing to forgive
vou : for I shall never more be happy in this
world while things remain as they are. Some
times I think of leaving the country entirely;
then I take another turn of mind that I never
had before you acted so. My mind wanders
sometimes so that I scarcely know what I am
doing. Dear wife, unless you comply with my
wish God only knows what will become of me.
It is hard for me to bear, after living lawfully to
gether for fourteen years, to be served so, and
by a man that I have befriended and thought
was a good man, and ray friend. But I feel as
though I can forgive all, if you will only reform
and lead a good life. Such a fife as you arc liv
ing always has a bitter ending, both in this world
and the world to come. Think, before it is too
late, of what you are doing, and pray to God to
forgive you, and you will be much happier. Dear
wife, my mind feels composed this evening more
than it has for some time past, but God only
knows how long it will remain so. I implore you
to listen to reason from one who still loves you ;
and I always shall, as I always did. But from
some cause or other you abused my kindness. I
am willing, however, to forgive you. Wo will go
out West in the Spring, and I will begin business
for myself in a small rising town, and you can
lead a new life where no one knows you. and live
and die happy.
Your affectionate husband,
B. C. Hawes.
Doubtless there arc other cases of faith
lessness on the part of both sexes existing
in the city now, and it may not be out of
place to warn tho guilty parties whoever
they are, that there is not much that is new
about the tragedy which we have described,
excepting the facts which led those who
knew any or all of the parties to deplore the
occurrence. We have no word of comfort —
not a lisp of good cheer to either the man or
the woman who recklessly put their very
heads in the monstrous jaws of hideous and
burning revenge, which, whether it is justi
fied or not, waits not to ask society or news
papers what is best to be done.
For years Williams, although uniformly kind
to his wife, was in the habit of wandering
away with other women to her great annoy
ance. Indeed, she contemplated leaving hitn
on that account, and was only deterred from
doing so by her dependence upon her husband
for subsistence. Sho had, previous to her
death, which took place about a year ago, de
termined upon obtaining a sewing machine, by
which she believed she would be able to make
a living for herself and her children.
Mrs. Haines followed Williams wherever he
went. When he changed his residence to the
Twelfth Ward she followed and took her a,bode
within a block from the same place, and when
he moved his family down to Broome street.,
where he lived at the time of his wife’s death,
she moved down to G rand street. Mrs. Wil
liams knew about the acquaintance between
her husband and Mrs. Haines, and grief con
tributed as much as anything else to her
Williams has left four children—two boys
and two girls—the oldest a girl about fourteen,
and the youngest a boy about six years.
Roasting a Loaded Shell.—Yester
day one of the soldiers at the Soldier’s Rest,
well known for harum skanun exploits, while
in the guard room picked up a loaded ten pound
Parrott shell, and remarking that was one of
the things" to try men’s souls,” pitched itinto
the stove, closed the door, and laid quietly
down in front of it. There were some thirty
or forty soldiers in the room at the time, and
as the shot went in a number made tracks, but
the majority of them did not get but before
the shell exploded, tearing the stove to atoms ;
but stTange to say, not a man was hurt, or was
the building injured. . The officers in charge,
being of the opinion that such experiments
should be paid for, have determined that
the man shall replace the stove.— Washington
American Growth. —A glance at a
few facts and figures will help to convince us
that we are a great and growing nation, and
that if we can overcome the centrifugal force
which, in our - rapid revolutions, has broken up
the integrity of our country, there will really be
no limit to the growth we may hope for. In
1860, with a population of 4.000,000, our manu
factures were valued at sls and our exports at
$7 per head. In 1860, with a population of 21,-
000,000, our manufactures were valued at $61.-
and our exports at ?9 per head. In 1800, tho
value of lands and houses was estimated at
$155 per head, and in 1860, at S4OO. In 1800, the
entire wealth of the country was less than
5i,000,000,000 ; in 1860, the valuation was $16,-
588,358,438. This rapid growth has been tho
legitimate result of well known causes, and may
be readily traced to the co-operation of individ
uals and the aggregation of capital, to the ap
plication of steam to transportation and me
chanical uses, to the use of machinery in its
countless applications and to the large quanti
ties of cheap and fertile land which have been
placed within the reach of all. The day’s labor
of an industrious man, which, in 1800, could re
move only one pound of cotton from the • seed,
could, in 1860, with the help of the cotton-gin,
remove four hundred pounds. In 1812, it took
six weeks of time and SIOOO in money to convey
a single cannon from New York to Buffalo, and
now, if circumstances require, twenty-four hours
and a ten dollar bill will suffice to carry a heavy
gun from the streets of New York ana point it
toward the Canadian shore of Lake Erie. Great
are the resources of our country,but great as they
have been we are yet only in the opening scenes
of the grand drama of American development.
Spring/iekl Republican.
Rambles Among Words —Their Poetry,
History and Wisdom. By William Swinton.
Revised Edition. Dion Thomas, publisher.
Advanced students in etymology, and all
ihose who delight in speculations on the articu
lations of the soul, as, like Adam in Paradise, it
strives to give name and form to every object,
animate and inanimate, it looks on in this mun
dane sphere, will read this book with a pleasure
never before felt in works which, after all, are but
words. In this volume, to employ the author’s
anguage, “ are incarnated man’s unconscious
passionate creative energy. They are the sanc
tuary of the intuitions. They paint humanity,
its thoughts, longings, aspirations, struggles,
failures. And with Runic spells he evokes the pa
gan wanderers from their visionary homes ; reads
some of the strange lessons they teach, catches
the wit and the wisdom, the puns and tho poetries,
the philosophies, the fancies and the follies that
lurk in and flash out from them, and seizes,
flaming down, as it were, from tho ‘firmament of
bards and sages,’ some of the deep analogies, the
spiritual significance, the poetic beauty and tho
rich humor that sport and dwell in even our com
mon every-day words and phrases.” Tho book is
divided into grand headings, entitled “The Work
of the Senses,” “ The Idolism of Words,” “Fos
sil Poetries,” “Fossil Histories,” “Words of
Abuse,” “Fancies and Fantastics,” “Verbal
Ethics,” “Growth of Words,” and “English in
America.” We advise our readers to procure
and peruse this delightful essay on the words
they daily use.
Harper’s New Monthly Magazine. Feb
ruary, 1864. Haiper it Brothers, Publishers.
The number for February opens with a ro
bp antic sketch of Western life in the early days of
the great Kentucky pioneer, Daniel Boone. The
leading character in tho paper is .Simon Kenton,
whose wonderful escapes and hazardous enter
prises give an interest, unsurpassed by any more
romance, to this strange, but scarcely known
historical character. The story, truthful in every
particular, is illustrated with thirteen finely exe
cuted wood engravings. * Monomoy,” the title
of the second article, is also handsomely illus
trated. Tbe sketch is humorous, and gives tho
reader an interesting insight into tho manners
and customs of tho clam explorers and clam
fishers of “ Witewash Village,” New Hampshire.
The other articles, many finely illustrated, are
entitled, “ A Woman's Words,” “ The Geometer,
or Measuring Worm,” “Episodic Farming,”
“ The Three Watchers,” “ The Small House at
Allington,” (three chapters continued,) “A His
torical Mystery,” “Edinburgh after Flodden,”
“John Heathburn’s Title—parti,” “Ths Siege
of Louisburg,” “ On the Stage,” (by Frances Ann
Kemble,) “ Mehitablo Rogers’ Cranberry Swamp,”
“Picked Dp,” “Four Days at Gettysburg,”
“ Our Bridget,” “ A Gossip about Fires,ltefflin
and his Book.” The Magazine close's with the
usual departments—which are ably and thought
fully filled—Monthly Record of Events, Literary
Notices, Editor's Easy Chair, Editor’s Drawer,
and Fashions for February.
Sunday JaM.
It has stood the test of analysis and experience.
and the “ Ambolintc” is a household neces-
sity wherever it has been used.
What are classical features or natural grace,
What the lily and rose of the loveliest face.
Unless one more gift crowns these attributes rar®
That “ Glory of Women,” luxuriant hair ?
If thli ye possess not, be comforted still.
For this climax of beauty is yours if ye will,
Yes, a shower of dark fibres your brows shall adorn
With a gloss like the leaf’s in the sunshine of mom
And shall flow o’er your shoulders, rich, silken soreea
If you use, at your toilet, the famed Ambounm,
What Nature denies, with her substitute win—
A growth that e’en Time cannot whiten qt thin.
Remember what nostrums have failed to achiavt
Amboline will accomplish— buy, I
We append certificates of Dr. Chilton, a Chemist
world-wide reputation, and of some of tho wealthiest and
most respectable citizens of this and neighboring ciClea,
who are now using it, to which attention is directed.
No. 93 Prince Strket, Nkw York, )
March 3,1863. J
We have made a chemical analysis of a preparation
called “Ambolink,” put up by Messrs. Kendall 4 Co.
It was found to be entirely free from me'.al'ic and mineral
The elements of its composition can do the head no iu
jury; but its use would prove beneficial in cases where the
scalp requires a gentle stimulant application.
Analytical Chemists.
Newark, N. J., Jan. 21,1863.
Messrs. Kendall & Co :
Gents .-—For several years I have been troubled with
tenderness of the scalp, which sometimes developed into
an unpleasant eruption, so that I could scarcely enduro
the painful operation of Combing or dressing the hair. I
had used various other compounds at the suggestion oC
but without any advantage, till I chanced to sec
your “ Amboline.” I have tried it to my entire recovery,
and after much experience I look upon it as the beat,
article in the market for the purpose it is intended fur, >.• od
to the toilet. You arejpermitted to refer to mo
if you see fit.
[Signed] Rev. R. P. LIVINGSTON.
R. D. Barnard of Albany, says
“After using two boxes of your Am»6linb, I wai sar.
prised to find a thick crop of Eyounm soft hair, covering
the entire scalp, which had been btfd for seven years.”
No. 277 Canal St., New York, >
Jan ua nr 20, 1863 >
Messrs. Kendall A Co
I have used several bojw of your Amboline, and cheer,
fully certify to its virtue as a promoter of the growth and
beauty of the hair.
I never have h»d anything in my family which so per
fectly answers die purpose of a hair dressing.
It is an effectual remedy for dandruff and soreness of
the scalp. I consider it the best article of tho kind in the
You are at liberty to refer me as to the genuineness an<
perfection of the Ambolink.
Yours Truly,
No. 35 King St., New York, ?
January 16, 1863. )
Messrs. Kendall A Co.:
Gents— For a long time my head has been almost en
tirely bald, so that I had abandoned the ilea of my halt
ever being restored. I gave my barber some of your Am
boline to use on my head, and one day I was astonished
at hisinforming me that the hair was again growing, and
the whole scalp entirely covered with a growth of new
hair. It is now soft and silken, and growing rapidly. I
attribute it altogether to the use of the Ambolins.
I shall be pleased to verify this by personal statement
to any one desiring it, or would refer them to my barber
Mr. Vito Carrao, Division street, this city.
MISS F ANNS’ SEFTON, the beautiful and talented At
tress, says: “I have used Kendall’s Ambolink for my
hair, and find it a very superior article. I have no hesita
tion in advising every lady who desires an elegant head
of hair to use it.
MRS. GEO. T MORGAN,of Brooklyn, says: “I hav>
been using the Amboline tor about four weeks, and during
that time my hair has lengthened two and a half inches. *
Prevents hair from falling out.
Causes it to grow on bald heads.
Prevents hair turning gray,
Permanently removes Dandruff;
Gives hair lustre and beauty.
Prevents nervous headache.
Renders harsh hair soft and glossy,
Is purely vegetable.
Cures all diseases of the scalp.
The best hair dressing for children,
KENDALL’S AMBOLINE is put up in boxes containing
two Lotties —one to be used at night, as a restorative, the
other for morning use, as a dressing. It never fails to
prevent the Hair from falling out or turning prematurely
gray. It is extracted from Flowers, and Herbs, am*!
has been used in thousands of cases where the Hair vm
coming out in handfulls, and has never failed to arr>nt ite
decay, and promote a healthy and vigorous growth.
NO. 506 BROADWAY, N. Y.,

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