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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, January 13, 1867, Image 7

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Sunday Edition. Jan. 13.
■—— -
: [Original.]
Tjlfi lesson of ths day,
£ ( . By H. S. Smith.
fka gulden rounds of three short years have run
inc 6 We have seen the light of Freedom s sun.
to all in our Republic now
Is guaranteed by a great Naiion’s vow;
O’er all the land it reigns! but have we yet
• RVithin our diadem its brightest jewel set ?
• The war is over, and the day has broke
O’er the wild din of battle, and the smoke
Of many fields of carnage cleared away—
Now must we learn the lesson of the day:
rfhe nation now must owu the voice of God,
Rnd conquered rebels stoop to kiss the rod
SThat smote thorn, and in all humility
• Must sue for place in our Democracy;
vor in our glorious triumph have been hurled
©own from their thrones the tyrants of the world,
g, all who fought must vote—the only plan
ivost man wnh the entire rights of man.
lesson’s hard, ’tis true; but we must learn,
learning, practice it, if we must earn
The gratitude of all the world, and be
6S great—sublimely, nobly free I
S ' -’■ [ Original!
i hope Mandano’s wrath will now subside,
,V For I have eacriflced my only son a
,f To satisfy her.” —AbtaxjebXES.
l-ft'ig a trite saying, that “ truth is stranger
£han fiction,” but its truth is indubitable. The
adventures of private individuals are frequent
ly as rare as any to bo read in romance. A
plight acquaintance with history, from the.
|im» of Alfred to that of Charles Edward the
■Adventurer, is sufficient to convince us that the
high-born have no talisman against the check
ered misfortunes incident to human nature.
In an old Trench work, “ Tho Life of tho
Lord de la Noue,” by L’Amirault, I found tho
following remarkable episode, the authenticity
bf which is indisputable, but I give the narra
tive a modern dross, and with the story-teller’s
privilege, suit the manner to a requisite unity,
and coherence of relation. I have set down
Ho incident that is not in the veritable chroni
cle mentioned above.
Vt Francis, Lord of Noue, surnamed Iron Hand,
.was a noblo soldier, whom the kings and Frois-
Bai-ts of the time delighted to honor. In tho
wars he was as famous as Chandos, or Du
Guesclin, as Wallenstein or Mansfcldt, and ho
bore on his person tho scars of many a fight.
■The Iron Hand had a Bister name 1 Marga et,
married to the Lord de Vezin, of an illustrious
house in Anjou. A son and two daughters were
the issue 61 this marriage. On the death of
Lady Margaret, the infatuated widower mar
ried her bower-maiden, and the indignant
brother-in-law broke off at once all further in"
terceurse with a man whom he regarded iu
the light of a degenerate scion of his house.
' Strange rumors soon reached the Iron Hand.
The eecqnd Lady de Vezin had acquired a
complete ascendancy over tho mind of her
lord. She hated the children of his first mar
riage, and desiring that hors should be the
jnly neirs of the rich inheritance, she had tho
iffspnng of Lady Margaret secretly conveyed
o a house at a plgce in Low Bretagne, upon
he eea-shore, and pertaining to De Vezin.
lome time afterward, Francis heard that the
• phildrren had deceased, one after another, in
their father’s house, and counterfeit funerals
arete solemnized. Other incidents, and many
jOf & personal nature, weakened the Impression
Jorigmally made by those stories on the mind
of the Iron Hand. Hie aversion to tho Lord
ile Vezin prevented him from seeking a satis
actory solution to his doubts and fears, and
he native integrity of his own character in-
Btied him to judge too leniently of his sister’s
lusband. Ho could scarcely believe in conduct
io unnatural in a parent, and the head of tho
ime-honored house of De Vezin. After the
lapse of years, the brave soldier received a
letter from the Isle of Guernsey.
i1 It purported to be from his nieces, then
up, and requesting hi» protection and
phaqipionship to right their wrongs. Their
faarrafive was affecting. At the place in Lower
Bretagne, they with their young brother, Fran
cis, had been put into tho hands of an English
pilot, who had agreed to cast them into the
Bea, but—no rare instance of a hired ruffian’s
Compassion—he spared their lives, and left
Ehqm with a peasant on the coast of England,
,lo bo reared as children of mean birth, with
out giving them the slightest hint of their
pbble extraction, and they wore then eo young
that ho did not suppose they could remember
ft. They were afterward conveyed to Guern
sey, and with some money left with a confi-
J 'flant in that isle. Here the sisters were sepa
rated from their young brother. He was re
moved whither they could never discover.
.'They had not lost tho memory of their birch,
and before the parting with Francis, who had
been named after their uncle, they imparted
Jo him the knowledge they possessed, and of
which he had a vague conception.
’irThe Iron Hand did all he could to hasten the
' jarrival of his nieces in France, and to discover
■ the truth. During an inti .-view with the Lord
De Vezin, circumstances convinced him of his
Complicity In the step-mother’s plot. He ro
firoaohed him for his treachery to his own
blood, and De Vezin, as if conscience-struck,
though In reality only all-aid of exposure, prom
ised to do justice to his children. He professed
be would have preferred that his children had
been brought near Lady de la Noue, who was
then living, and was a virtuous woman. But
’matters did not mend. Several occurrences
took place that delayed the wished for event of
the return of the girls, and they died iu Guern
sey, As for the son, ■.
f Nor tale nor fillings of his fate declare ■' V**
Where lived his grief or perish’d his despair.”
# ; 1 "" "
’• I look but at the villainy. Next to Heaven, virtuous
age demands our veneration; for how close the link
ttwixt good old men and angels 1 But thou, false to the
ties of blood, bast robbed thy children.— Douglas Jerrold.
■' Francis la Noue was «n Flanders, when a
young, man presented himself, who declared
that he believed himself to be the heir of the
house of Vezjn. He had been taken, he said,
from Guernsey to London, and had had no op
portunity of corresponding with his sisters,
ale was placed with a tradesman as an appren
tice, but having a strong reoollectiofi that he
fa descended from an honorable family in
ance, and that he was nephew to the cele
ated warrior of the Iron Hand, who esji
ten such an interest in his sisters, he escaped
>m England, and sought his mother’s brother.
> was unaljle to produce any direct proofs of
s birth, but la Noue, whose > nature warmed
sight of the lost heir, had an undoubted
th in his story.
For the present—it was on the eve of a battle
j£rlie merely wrote to the Lord De Vezin that a
lyouth who called himself the heir of that noble
Mouse had claimed his protection.
■‘P The Iron Hand was unfortunately made pris
oner in the next day’s fight, and some years
passed over after his liberation before ho heard
anything more of his lost nephew.
y 'He was traveling to Geneva, with a young
'lady, his ward, in his charge, when he was
beset by assassins, who, he shrewdly suspected,
ware bribed by the Lady De Vezin to rid her of
a troublesome enemy. He made a brave de
fense, but would have been overpowered had
not rescue, in the person of his nephew, ap
peared on tho scene. La Noue did not at first
-■ieoognize his kinsman in his deliverer, for a
few years had produced a great change in his
face and stature, but Francis having discov
ered himself, he looked at him more intently,
find remembering the young man he had seen
an the Low Countries, he acknowledged that he
bad the air and lineaments of his brother-in
law, De Vezin. The young man modestly re
lated his, history. Ho said that he was indeed
the same youth who had tho honor to see him
jn Flanders. Having more judgment and
.knowledge, with acquired experience, he gave
a vivid color to bis narrative of suffering; and
jDthello’s story of his life, told to Desdemona,
. bad not moro influence on the feelings of the
fair listener, than that of Francis on the affec
a-tions of Adeline and her guardian, the noble
Lord de la Noue.
‘ The Iron Hand vowed that Justice should be
done to the Recovered Heir, and that his birth
. and natural condition should be acknowledged
in the presence of his peers. Francis, on his
■ part, declared that he had always put faith in
the high and divine principle of the visible
guidance of Providence, ami that he felt that,
Under the Disposer of Events, his uncle would
bring him forth from the labyrinth of mvaterv
into the.clear light of honor and ancestry.
I'"Francis, adopted by his uncle, who'was a
Widower, and treated in a manner suitable to
bis birth, Was received in society as the Re
-povjjrod Heir of the house of Vezin, and was
. soon tho affianced lover of the beautiful Ade
. line. His father refused to acknowledge him.
) Whe conflict in his mind, between tho good and
the adverse principle, was decided by the in
; Eueijco which his lady had acquired, and the
of evil was tho consequence. The
HL'-i-jl Da Vezin was in bondage to hie wicked
helpmate. He would once have shrunkfrommor
. W corruption with the sensitiveness of the noble
la, Jioue, but he had allowed the spirit of evil to
tjßurp a complete dominion over him. His ears
Srero poisoned by etorios invented by his wife.
Within tho circle of hor power he was incapable
pt deliberate action, as if the doctrine of necessi
ty were personified in him. She roused within
him the worst feelings of human nature. She
Suborned witnesses to stir him to revenge
against the Iron Hand, and his “ Pretender,”
»r “Perkin Warbeck.” He was induced to
think that the Iron Hand was his inveterate
roe ; that ho had plotted to wrest from him the
Inheritance of the house of De Vezin, and to
aeprive her children of their claim to his pos
sessions ; but high and hidden wisdom is often
manifested in the destruction of an edifice,
raised, as it were, by tho subtle aid of a mast-er-
PWQeofevil. . ' '
Thou hast the deeds—all, all is restored.”
I >y. ’ l . The Devil's Ducat.
La None, whoso actions and sentiments were
in direct contrast to those of De Vezin, and
ffA 0 bi'mly believed in the instinctive feelings
pi nature, could not sunpdse that .his brother-
Sq-laiy was so completely under the spell of hia
influence. - ' ™
“Wo will see yom- father,” ho said to Francis,
“Nature will reassert herself, and he will atone
for the past. If he reject you, I shall seize
him at law.”
As they rode through tho forest, within view
of the Chateau Do Vezin, they found, lying on
the pathway, a bleeding man. . He had been
thrown from his horse while hunting. Tho
Iron Hand recognized iu tho stranger the Lord
Do Vezin. He was insensible. A litter was
formed, and, with the assistance of their at
tendants, they conveyed tho unfortunate noble
man on the road to his home. He soon be
came sensible of his condition, and when aware
of tho presence of the Iron Hand and his
nephew, who ho saw had succeeded him, the
long slumbering nature within him was touch
ed and roused. Bursting into tears, ho said :
“ God’s punishment is just, and the cause is
sufficiently known. I have lived wickedly, and
measured actions, not according to integrity,
but according to my wife’s passions. God’s
thoughts are deep, anql wae a fool who did not
understand them.” ‘ '
“ Heaven be praised thou hast it yot in thy
power to make amends,” said the Iron Hand.
“Let thy sword cut the thread spun from thy
wife’s distaff—provide speedy Remedy for the
evil she has done.”
De Vezin embraced the Recovered Heir, and
gave him his blessing. “He was lost, and is
found,” he said, “ but his father, who has not
inherited the virtues of his house, has been the
Prodigal, and failed to govern his reason in the
difficult labyrinth of life.”
This was to be a day of trial to De Vezin. In
the catastrophe of his wife’s death he was to
have a terrible proof that Providence often re
venges by notable punishment. As they neared
the Chateau a column of thick smoke rose from
the centre of tho building, and almost with tho
rapidity of the passing of a meteor, tho broad
glare of flames burst from loop-hole and case
ments, and the tower containing the lady’s
apartments was half enveloped by the devour
ing element.
Cool in every danger, the Iron Hand used
speedy moans of rescue. The Recovered Heir
was the first to ascend to the chamber of the
shrieking sufferer, but ho arrived too late. Ho
had already grasped his stop mother’s shoulder,
when tho .floor on which she stood sunk, and,
wrested from him by the shock, down wont the
wrong-doer, and perished.
The Iron Hana was more fortunate in his at
tempts at eaving life. He achieved tho rescue
of the ill-fated Lady De Vezin’s children.
The Lord De Vezin recovered tho effects of
his fall, and of the loss ofhis wife—of tho former
“Truly” said ho; “God holds tho rod, and
governs with it prince and lord. I humble
myself under His powerful away. He created
tho spirit of man, and will dispose of it as ho
pleases. While I live, I will hold this maxim,
‘ God does all wall, whatsoever ho doos.’ ”
And while ha lived, after these events, De
Vezin, the elder, held an honourable rank
among the virtuous lords of his age, and Do
Vezin tho younger, tho Recovered Heir, was in
every way worthy of his noblo name. His nup
tials with Adeline were soon celebrated.
As late as tho period of the French Revolu
tion his posterity hold tho estate of the family
of De Vezin.
The foriunee of the Iron Hand, of the illus
trious Francis la Noue are proudly ebroniclcd
in th? military history of his country.
Philemon Hays and Fanny Ray had boon just
threo weeks married.. ... -1 •
They sat at their breakfast in their cosy din
ing-room one fine morning in summer, totally
infatuated with each other. Never such hap
piness as thoirs before I The felicity of Adam
and his lady before they mii.de the acquaintance
of the serpent, was not to be mentioned in tho
same brqath. -. , , .j
They kissed each other between every cup of
coffee, and made a practice of Embracing at
least twice—sometimes thrice—during every
meal. Just now, they were speaking of disa
greements. Some friends of theirs had fallen
out and refused to fall in again.
.“ We paver will disagree, will we, Phil, dear?”
asked Mrs. Fanny. r
“Disagree! Will the heavens fall?” return
ed Phil, tragically. <.
“ I sincerely hope not. It would be decided
ly disagreeable,” laugho.d Fanny; “but if I
thought we should ever quarrel, and have hard
thoughts toward each other, I shoujd be tempt
ed to terminate my existence 1” / ■--
“My precious Fanny!” dried Phil, jumping
up and upsetting the toast-plate on the carpet-,
of which lie was entirely oblivious, in his eager
ness to get his arms around Fanny. “My little
foolish darling 1 as if wo should ever be 'so ab
eurdl (a kiss.) May Ibe drawn and quartered .
(another kiss) if ever I speak one word that
shall cause one tear to fill the divine eyes of my
dearest (a third explosion) Fanny!”
“ Oh, how happy you make me, Phil 1 I shall
try so hard to be“ just the faithful, loving wife
you deserve. Now finish your breakfast, deary.
The toast will be growing cold. Amj oh I Phil 1
did you notice Mrs. Smith’s horrid new bonnet
last night? I declare! it destroyed all my
pleasure in the music 1 Ido wish people who
will wear such untasteful bonnets would stay at
home from'those delightful concerts!”
“So do I, Fanny. I noticed the ugly thing
tho moment we entered the hall. Blue ‘flowers
. and pink ribbons, and sho dark as a Creole 1”
i “ No, my lovo, the flowers were green. Green
: and blue look so much alike by gas-light.”
“ I know they do, but I noticed it Bo particu
’ lar that I could not be deceived. Blue—es-
■ pecially light blue—looks fearfully on a dark
complexioned person 1 ' r
“So it does, Phil, I quitg agree with you,
dear. But the flowers were not blue, they were
green. I saw them at Mre. Gray’s shop before
they were purchased.” it-,
“.My dearest Fanny, of course you think
, yourself right, my love, but I have a*very good
: eye for color, and I noticed those flowers with
> great attention. Blue engages with yellow
Centres.” ‘ ■'silt.- * V'4
■ “ Green hibusses with white contras, my clear
1 Phil. Very pretty for a light skinned women,
’ but horrid for a brunette.”
“ Why, Fanny, how absurd 1 As if I could
■ not determine a color when I studied it half tho
evening.” ■ ’ ■ .
“ But it was by gas-light, my love. It would
look altogether different by daylight. It was
such a pale green.” \
“It was such a blue. I remember, I thought
of the sky before a storm.” .. v
“ And I thought of the sea. It was nearly a
, eea-green.” -■? • '
“Why, Fanny! Ridiculous! It was sky
blue.” ‘ -■
“ How you do contradict me, my dear Phile
mon! It was a veiy light green.”.
1 “ And I must insist it wae blue.”
■ “Do you mean to tell me I lie ?” '■■* '
1 “I mean to tell you you are mistaken 1”
“ Which amounts to the same thing 1”
“ You make applications, Mrs. Hayes.”
“ Mr. Philemon Hayes 1”
“Fanny!” ,
“ I say it was green, sir 1”
“ And I say it was blue, eo there 1”
“You are a wretch, Phil, a real mean, heart
. less wretch!” and Fanny pushed back her
plate angrily.
“You are an opinionated, self-willed wo
man 1” said Phil, in agitation, upsetting his
coffee, scalding the cat’s back and himself at'
the same time.
“ The deuce 1” cried he rubbing his red fin
gers with his handkerchief. “ I wish I’d never
seen a woman!”
“ What’s that, sir 1”
“ Confound the women! They’re a curse to
the world!”
“You brute!” cried Mrs. Hayes, now thor
oughly incensed, “ take that I” and seizing the
plate of muffins, she took aim at Phil’s head,
but being a woman, hor arm was not so accu
rate as it might have been, and the plate went
through tho window, smashing in tho tile of
Fitz James Jones, who was passing, and the
muffins were scattered in wild confusion about
tho room.
Phil was indignant. He laid his hand on the
“It I did not scorn to strike a woman,” he
“ Oh, strike 1” exclaimed Fanny, “it will only
be in piece with your other conduct. Don’t let
any notions of honor restrain you, because you
never had any.”
“ Fanny, beware ! yon may try me too far.”
“ I’ll go home to pa, that I will. You inhu
man monster! I’ll be divorced from you this
very day. So there 1” and the platter of ham
made the journey after the muffins.
Just at that moment, Phil’s Uncle John, a
shrewd old fellow, appeared on tho scene. He
surveyed the ground with an anxious twinkle of
the eve.
“What’s the matter, Fanny? Anything gone
wrong ?” he enquired.
“Gone wrong! Matter enough 1 Oh, Uncle
John, he’s » wretch, and he eet out to strike me
with a poker.” -
“ And ehe threw a plate of muffins—and ham
at me!” x ..v
“He’s a monster, Uncle John. I’ll be di
vorced from him this very day. He’s worse
than a savage 1”
“ So he is,” cried Uncle John, entering warm
ly into the spirit of the thing. “So he is,”—
stripping off his coat—and I’ll settle the matter
at once. You stand back, Fanny; I’ll give him
snch a threshing as he’ll be likely to remember.
Striking his wife with a poker, indeed! I’ll
rectify matters and Uncle John grasped the
longhandled feather duster and flourished it
threateningly around the head of his nephew.
“There, sir, take that! and that! and that 1”
exclaimed he, bringing down the feathers on
the shoulders of the amazed Phil. “Fanny,
dear, I’ll not leave a bone of him whole.”
Fanny’s round blue eyeg had been growing
larger and larger—and now her indignation
■ burst. .■■ • =
“ John Hayes 1” she cried, “ you’re an bld
heathen and meddling vagabond. Let Phil
alone ! He’s my dear husband, and vou’ve no
right to touch him. He’s an angel 1 ‘He never
intended to strike me. Bo still, striking him,
or you’ll be sorry 1” And Fanny nifized tho
broom from behind the door, and prepared to
do battle. /
“ Stand back,” cried Uncle J'rim ; “he is a
- monster, and deserves death. The man wh6
i wcq'.d threaten to etrike a ought V J
Phil made a spring for the window, but there
-a whatnot in the way; and, getting his leg
entail that, he brought the whole con
cern th® floor—ambrotypes, boolrri, vases,
rare china a hundred cherished curosiiios,
all were iuvCi." * n ?,
Phil went dow? the ° u l? r thia S?> Uncl ?
John stumbled ore.” him, and Banny only saved
herself by seizing th J hell-rope, which brought
two servants speedily oC '4° E R°“ T
Of course, they took Ph-' Uncle John for
housebreakers; and if Fanny s explanation had
not been enforced by sundry .euches Of per
broomstick, tho consequences might have beau
The first moment ofcalm was seized upon by
the young couple to embrace each other,
“My angel Fanny 1”
“ My precious Phil 1”
And then followed a series of explosions like
the bursting of beer-bottles.
Uncle John left the house during this inter
esting performance, still firmly of the opinion
that the surest way of reconciling a wife ho her
husband is to get a third person to help her
abuse him.
She was crocheting something out of soft
scarlot and white wool. Her fingers were
white as tho wool. Milton Etheredge sat
watching her, protending to read a paper at
tho same time. Sho waa looking very charm
ing in her buff muslin dress, with pink ribbons
at the throat, and looping back her brown hair.
Annie Huntley knew the value of dress—and,
what is more, she knew how to attire herself in
just tho manner most becoming to her. She
was not so much prettier than dozens of other
B ladies; but everything about hor was in
my, and people had fallen into the habit
of calling her beautiful. Sho had a clear,
wild-rose complexion—tolerably regular fea
tures—soft, brown eyes, and brown hair that
was struggling continually to break into tho
curls and ringlets so natural to hor.
Milton Ethoredge—grave, silent, wiso barris
ter—wondered within himself how long he had
loved this little Annie. He could not romem- I
ber. Six years ago she had come to stay with
them—the dying bequest of Mrs. Etheredge’s
best valued friend. The good lady had been a I
mother to her ever since, and Milton had played
the part of a kind cider brother. Annie was i
eighteen when she came to town—she was now :
twenty-five. Yos, he waa sure he had loved her
six years. She had made everything so differ
ent. Her pretty ways of arranging curtains, 1
and flowers, and books, and knick-knacks, had ’
brightened up the house wonderfully. Milton ,
thought it was strange huw he and Ids mother
had ever managed to live without hor. >
So ho sat and looked at hot as sho made tho i
shining stool flash in and out tho bright, fleecy 1
wool. Not that ho thought of ever being any- !
thing more to her than lie was now. His love i
was quiet yet—it had not reached that passion
ate stage when it will not bo subdued by any i
obstacles. He was thirty, at least, and it would
bo childish for him to hope she would over link
her young, fresh life with that of a man whoso i
hair would soon be getting gray. :
But there was something more to destroy the
hope, if he had dared to indulge it. At one :
time, perhaps, he had indulged it, but oer- I
tainly not now. Annie Huntley had had her
life romance as well as other women. It had
boon sweet at first—painfully bitter at the last.
It had made hor smile graver—her color more
fleeting—hor manner, at times, subdued and
sad—so Mr. Milton Etheredge thought.
Annie and Leigh Richardson had met under
somewhat romantid circumstances. He had
saved her from drowning ut Newport, when sho
had ventured beyond her depth; and, after
her removal to the city, ho had followed her
there, and settled himself in the practice of his
profession—tho law, Ho had been a constant ;
visitor for two years. People began to speak
of them as belonging to each other, and Mrs.
Etheredge had, with a woman’s peculiar de
light, begun to anticipate the wedding break
fast and the bridal trousseau. Etheredge had
looked on with a dull pain at his heart, for
winch he felt half angry with himself. Surely
ho ought to rejoice that Annie would be so
happy, for Richardson was every way estimable,
and was rising rapidly in his profession.
. Suddenly, however, about two years before
the opening of our story, his visits to Annie
ceased, andlie began a violent flirtation with
Nellie Seymour. Annie did not die on account
of it—she did not even mope, as girls generally
do when crossed in love. Her manner was a
little more subdued, her laugh came less fre
quently, but she was not heartbroken. She put
aside tho sympathy Mrs. Etheredge would have
offered her, quietly, and gave her confidence to
no one. Sometimes she met Leigh Richardson;
but they exchanged no words not even tho ordi
nary ceremonious greetings .of mere acquaint
ances; they were as completely separated, as
if an ocean rolled between them.
That evening, as Etheredge sat watching
Annin, and thinking of all this, ho noticed with
a thrill of pain, that she was a littlo paler, little
more quiet, than usual. He remembered that
sho had met Richardson at the picture-gallery
that day.
Some magnetic influence in the gazo of Ether
edge made Annie look up. She flushed under
the sereno lustre of those dark grey eyes, and
hor fingers forgot their cunning, and dropped
the ball of wool she waj unwinding. It rolled
toward tho fire—there was a gofiulno old
fashioned wood firo upon tho hearth—and, in
stooping to recover it, her light sleeve dipped
into the blaze. The flames leaped up—Milton
sprang forward, caught her in his arms, and
crushed out tho fire.
She was frightened—weak and dizzy with re
membering what she had escaped; and, for a
moment, she stood circled by his aim—her
head on his shoulder—her soft hair resting
against his bhejjt, AU the love he hgd so long
kept undeFfdpl, Tbae up Hke an unbound tyrant.
Hj pressed lips to hers—he .ivwiy have told
her, then how dear 611a wio to him, but some
thing seemed to hold him back. He would wait
a little until the excitement of her recent peril
should be gver: would wqit, and tbiiric orgj
calmly. ■/ "s'--
All that night he sat up, thinking. He loVod
her with all his soul; he should never care for
another womafi. But he was hob quite sure of
the condition of her heart, what if she had
still a lingering tenderness for Richardson ?
He feared she might. He had seen her kies a
picture which ho fglt morally sure was his.
Would he like this wife to kiss Leigh Bichard-
Bon’s picture ? Would he like to think that she
ever had kissed it ? - vl;’ .
Then he remembered how she blushed some
times when ho looked at her, and took courage.
It might be that tho old dream could be forgot
ten in the new. At any rate, ho would know be
fore ho slept, hb said with sudden resolution,
and after breakfast he went out for a walk. He
belonged to tho Franklin Club, and for the want
of something better to do, sauntered in.
Thorp wgro oiyly two or thfW present—idling
over the morning pjpordi Ae he entered, he
caught the name of Annie Huntly. Fred Orme,
a reckless, young fellow, was telling a story.
Etheredge reddened akhearing her name from
Orme’s lips, and was about striding forward,
and calling him to account for it, when Orme’s
next words arrested him a.nd forced him to
listen. »
“ You see, Leigh Richardson was dead in love
with her! Well, sho is a charming girl—dreses
exquisitely. Leigh is smart, but I never liked
him since he won that silver cup at the boat
race. I meant to have had that myself. Too
bad I didn’t get it 1”
“ So it was 1” drawled Edward Harrison.
“ It was hotter than the tropics, and Leigh is
one of the cold-blooded ones. I said then I
be meant to be even with him ml i
have kept my word. Don’t mind telling you
the story, since it is such an old affair. Mat
ters were going on swimmingly, two years hgo,
between Leigh and Annie. They’d have boon
married before now, if nobody had interfered.
But Dennis and I—yon know Dennis? good
fellow—got up a little plan between us, and it
worked splendidly. I gained possession of
some of Leigh’s handwriting, and practised
writing like it. I am an expert at that busi
ness, I flatter myself; and in a few days I could
fairly boat Richardson with his own weapons.
So I wrote a letter to an imaginary chum of
his—giving a description of Miss Annie—call
ing her a soft little thing, telling him how she
adored the subscriber, and how the subscriber
cared nothing at all for her, but was enjoying
a glorious flirtation. Of course the subscriber
was Leigh Richardson. This note—which was
a most insulting thing to any woman—v/e con
trived to have dropped where Miss Annie would
| find it; and the result was even more jolly than
I had anticipated. She met Richardson the
next day, and refused to listen to anv explana
tion he could make. Ha! ha! a good joke,
wasn’t it ? Raid him for getting that cnp.
Always intended to pay him off some way. He
felt ureadfully about it.” ,<s.,
Etheredge 'waited to hear no more. In hie
present frame of mind ho felt as if he could
not bear it. He went home and shut himself
up in his chamber. After all. Richardson had
been true. How bitterly he had been wronged.
Annie would repent, and love him more than
ever, if she knew the injustice she had done
him. That was a woman’s nature. She atones
for wrong by giving love, fribi. .yi
EtlicroJge felt faint and sick. He saw his
duty clearly enough; but it is not always easy
to do one’s duty. There was a little struggle
between his heart and his conscience.- A hun
dred times the temptation beset him to keep
his knowledge to himself, and win Annie for his
own. She would never know that Richardson
was blamelesss, and his great lovo might maze
her so happy 1 At last, he knelt down
and prayed over it. He always prayed over
those things which were too hard for him.
After that he rose, and there was no hesi
tation. If he could make Annie happy*
what mattered it to him how it was accom
plished ?
He went down to the sitting-room about sun
set. He knew he should find there. Mrs. Eth
eredge was away at evening service- ,
Annie was sewing by a shaded lamp. She
did not like the glare' of the gas. There was a
rich color on her cheek, over which the loose
hair drooped low. Milton Etheredge’s heart
leaped at sight of her; but he stilled it down,
and took a seat beside her, Z
“Annie,” ho said, “ I am, in old friend,” and
I think you will not bo offended if I ask you a
' few questions. Not because I am the least
I, curious, but because I desire your gopd merd
i She looked up in wonderment—noticing the
strange unsteadiness of his voice, and the tre-
■ mor of the hand ho laid on hers.
“Offended with you, Mr. Etheredge?” she
Baid, reproachfully; “never! Go on. lam
listening 1”
“Annie, you were once engaged to Leigh
Her head drooped lower; the crimson came
and went in her cheeks.
“I was,” she said, in a low voice.
“You loved him —and he loved you ? Was it
not so, Aumo ?”
“ We called it love.”
“ And you thought liim false ?”
“Wiatif you knew that ho was not false—
that he wZB tree to you always ? That the con
temptible letter which you read, purporting to
have been written by him, was a vile forgery ?
What then ?” t
She was looking at him in mute surprise.
Sim drew a long breifth.
“ Was it a forgery
“It was. I have just heard tho history of it.
An ill-natured acquaintanoe of Richardson’s, to
gratify a petty revenge, wrote the letter, and
dropped it where you would be sure to find it.
Leigh Richardson was leal and tree.”
Sho sat very still before him—not a line of
her face changing. Ho waited for her to speak,
but she did not seem disposed to do bo. i
“Annie, my dear friend, shall I speak to Mr.
Richardson about this mistake?”
“If you please. I would like him to know 1
that he is clear in my eyes. I think he would 1
be glad to know it. Tell him just how it was, -I
and ask him to forgive me, if I w»s harsh with '
him.” • ■ ■ ,
“Is that all?”
“That is all.”
“Mr. Etheredge!”
“Pardon me for purßuing the subject; but, j
if you still care for Liim, you will want to speak ■
to him on the matter yourself.”
“But I do not caro for him.”
“ You do not ? Why, may I ask ?” ,
She blushed red as a rose. Etheredge put i
the blush and the portrait ho had seen her kiss i
together. A sharp pang pierced him. '
“Is it because you love another?”
“Yes,” she said, quietly; “it is because I 1
love another.” 1
“And that other?” j
She rose abruptly, and flung off the detaining
hand ho laid on her arm. ;
‘‘You have no-right to ask me that!” sho I
said, hoarsely. “ Let me go 1 You torture <
me!” i
“ I torture you, Annie—J l”
What possessed him heffid not knpw—per- j
haps, something her eyes said to him made him <
bold. He put his arm'around her and drew her t
to his side. ,
“ Annio, if you love another, I must give you
to him—your happiness shall be secured to you, <
though mine be shipwrecked! I did not mean <
to tell you, darling, but I lovo you bo, it almost
kills mo to think of losing you 1 On, Annin— ’
my little lost Annio!” 1
Hor face grow rosy as tho morning. Sho put j
her arms around his neck.
“Not lost but found,” she said, softly. <
“Annie,” he cried, breathlessly, “do not de- s
oeive me I What of the picture I saw you kiss- ■
ing ?” t
She laughed a little; and, crimson with con
fusion, drew tho locket from her bosom, and ;
held it up to him. He saw his own face. , j
“ Forgive me, Milton. I got it of the artist,
and have worn it these two years. Leigh Rich- 1
aruson is nothing to me—you aro all.” ,
Will “J. W. B.” call at the Dispatch office at I
his earliest convenience? ■■■■'. 1
B. P. Shillaber gets off the following truthful 1
stanzas on .
Qld Grimes is dead —that good old man,
We ne*or ehall seo him more;
But he has left a son who bears
The name that old Grimes bore.
He wears a coat of latest cut,
His hair is new and gay:
He cannot bear to view distress,
So turns from it away.
His pants and gaiters—fitting snug
O’er patent leather shoes;
His hair is by a barber curled—
He smokes cigars and chows.
A chain of massive gold is borne
Abovo his flashy vest;
His clothes are better every day
Than were old Grimes’ best.
In Fashion’s court ho constant walla.
Where his delight doth shed;
His hands are white and very soft.
But softer is his head.
He’s six feet tall—no post more straight—
His toet-b are pearly white; : • ’
In habits he is sometimes loose,
n And sometimes very tight.
His manners aro of sweetest grace,
His voice of softest tone; ,
His diamond pin the very one
That old Grimes used to own.
His mus!aches adorn his face.
His neck a scarf of blue; .
He sometimes goes to church for change,
And sleeps in Grimes* pew.
He sports the fastest “cab” in town,
Is always quick to bet;
He never knows who’s President,
Bpt VPJ4 yet.”
Ho has drank Wines of every kind.
And liquors Cdld and hot;
Young Grimes, in short, is just that sort
Of man—old Grimes was not.
The seating mania is at its Eighth. The very
mention of a frozen pon’d has something exhil
arating in it. Everybody been or is going,
an 4 numerous are tho that never
find |hoir way into Uj) Coluhing of a newspaper.
Il -i? of tho age—a
fow tiTolceil don’t matter.
It’J fashionable, InJ everything must give way
before it. Even sioigh-rideS aro nowhere. The
old popular pastime~- -Wg: S
“ When all the t-elles and all the beaux,
In spit© of frosts, would go forth.
And squeeze beneath the buffaloes
Each hands, -..A,
is but a thing of memory. Josh iillingt has
had an attack of the epidemic, but has fortu
nately come out physically uninjured. (We
make no mention of the wear and tear of
morals.) He adds his eplogy to other
- ’ BIG TJIDIgI on ICE. - jdri
Having heard so much sod about skating parks and
the grate amount of helih and mussel they was im
parting to the present generashun at a eUte advance
from fust cost, I hot a ticket and went within the
fense. ■’> ■' {-.'L > <
I found the ice in a slippery condishun, covering 5
akers of artlfisbaU water, which waz owned by a stock
company, and to order.
Upon one side ov the pond waa erected little grocery
buildings, where the women sot on benches while the
fellers (kivered with blushes) hitched the magic iron
tew their feet. - •• •- ■ ■ > < •• ?
It waz a most exciting scene, I wanted tew holler
“bully,” or lay down and rool over.
But I kept in, and aked with glory.
II el th was piktured on menny a nobell brow.
As the femail angalls put out on the pond side by
side with the mail angells, it was the most powerful
scene I ever stood behind.
The long red tape from their necks swum in the
breeze, ana the fethers in the Jockeys m tne
breeze, and other things (tew w mension) flut
tered in the breozo-
I don’t think I was more CTazy before in my life
on ice.
For 2 long hours I stood and gazed with dum ex
I felt like a kanall horse turned suddenly out to
Az one ov tiie angells, more sudden than awl the
rest, come Aiding down the trek 3 lengths ahed ov
her mail angell, all eyes were gorging with her heav
enly bust—ov speed; seemed to have cut luce
from earth, and for the Cape of Good I
Hope, when awl tew gorgous swoop terrif-
ick, down crumpling hag a limpid heep she went
with squeel terrifick, a living, luvly mass ov disastrus '
skirt and tapring ankle. i
Awl gathered around thebursted angell; but lo! 1
in a minnit’s space her wings agin wae plumed and ]
evry fethcr was in its lawful plase, and on she flew, 1
laffin hire wino thru its buteous blushes.
I had saw enuff—more happiness than belong tew !
me—and az I slowly wended back tew my hum at the ’
tavern I felt good.
The wording of the foregoing is some- i
what unhealthy, but there is no discount 3
on the sentiment. Another chap, who had an
idea, at one time, that he could do anything
any one else could, has been practising a little ’
for his own amusement. He didn’t like it very i
well. It wasn’t a success as far as he was con- j
cerncd. He don’t wish to be laughed at, but j
feels it a part of his Christian duty to give, in 1
the way of warning, to the uninitiated his j
Skating may he a “ big thing on ice,” but it is not .
my forte. I tried it. Tho ico is not what’s “cracked”
up to be. I bought a pair of skates to try my hand, J
or feet, I should say. When I got on the ice, I struck
out boldly; that, they say, is confidence, the stuff
requisite for a skater. I never was a confidence man. '
and (hat was the cause of my failure. However, I’li ;
let that matter “slide.” Having struck out, I con
eluded to strike in, which I did iu a manner not ac- ]
cording to the rules of skating, getting up to my waist
in the pond. After wasting considerable time in get- '
ting out, I thought 1 wotfld try it again, not getting -
iu tho pond, but skating, although standing up was in 1
vain. I accepted the kind offer of a young man of
eight winters, who volunteered to tow me along. Hav- 1
ing got about three feet, I toed the ice to the amuse- i
ment of a tow-hairod boy, who said he’d bet five dol
lars that I won the next fall, which I took up after
getting taken down by a young lady, who said,
“ There is Robert Heller on skates 1” which drew a
big crowd, who cried out, “ He will show you tricks
on skates!” “He will carve a turkey or an eagle on
the ice!” 4nd other flattering encomiums, which
caused ro,e to execute a very difficult and disgraceful
movement, which was done in a very difficult and
disgraceful manner, viz: skating on my head, which
caused;’me to see numerous meteors not prophesied
to corno. One fellow said I was a falling star. I tried
to at him, in order to punch his head, but was
pre/ented on account of falling down very suddenly.
Though the kindness of a rail fence, I succeeded in
placing myself on a war-footing, of course “ acting on
the defensive.” The urchin said I was displaying a
white flag, caused by sundry “breaches.” I surren
dered, telling the youth I would rather have him for
tit frigna Ibaq la gwy. JI? fcladly tj
both for ton cents. I invested in half a share, paying
nun five cents, finding his experience was equal to
that amount. lie said his motto was “ united wo
stand, divided we fall,” and advised me to learn to
skiue backward. I told him that was what I was try
ing, with considerable success. After a consultation
of some moments, he said he thought skating would
noi, agree with me. I thought so, too, and finally
concluded to get my skates oif, which I succeeded in
doing, after solemnly declaring that to be my first
spo”t delightful and invigorating
P. S.—l cm suffering from pains too numerous to
mention, caused by ovor-skating myself. I havo to
suffer ice to be placed at my head and loot: iny diet
consists of ice-crcam, &c.
/hr Sale.—A pair of skates, nearly new, used only
on one occasion. Will be sold at a sacrifice. Satis
factory reasons for selling.
Yours, X. Perience.
Tho ‘‘Breakneck Accident Insurance Co.*’
wrote to the “Fat Contributor” not long since
to work up a column or so for people to take
out policies. He put his whole mind to it, and
produced this
Everybody should get insured against accidents.
No matter if you belong to one of the “best of fami
lies”—accidents will happen to them.
Get a policy. The old proverb says “ Honesty is
the best policy,” but that was before Accident Insur
ance Companies started. Now the best policy ia a
policy ia the “Breakneck.”
The other day a man in Chicago fell out of a fourth
story window, He had no insurance, and conse
quently was killed. Another man on the same day
fell out with his wife. He was insured in the “Break
neck,” and is ready to fall out again.
A. woman driving a spirited horse in St. Louis was
run away with. Being injured against accidents, she
wasn’t alarmed a bit, stopped the horse, and came
back safe. Her policy running out, she neglected to
renew it. Shortly after she was run away with agaiu.
Her husband’s partner ran away with her this time,
and she hasn’t como back yet. Don’t fail to renew
your policy, particularly if it is in the “ Breakneck.”
At Dubuque, lowa, a man was kicked by a horse.
The horse wasn’t insured, and he got kicked back.
Near Paris, Kentucky, a man, while engaged in
running a circular saw, had his arms taken oft. They
consisted of r. cavalry sabre and a double-barreled
shot-gun. The man who carried them off had no ac
cident insurance—ond he hasn’t been caught yet.
In Uiiea, New York, a man accidentally got mar
ried. Being insured in the “ Breakneck,” he will re
ceive sls a week until he recovers.
Andy Johnson writes from Washington “ ‘My Pol
icy’ has run out. Bend me another by express.”
Near Portland, Maine, a poor man’fell from a loft
and broke his neck. He received his insurance,
$3,000, from the “ Breakneck,” with which he was
enabled to set himself up in business, and is now do
ing well.
Our agent at Cleveland, Ohio, writes: “ A lumber
horse ran away with a bobtailed wagon, and tipped
the street over a small woman and six elderly chil
dren. The horse began to cry, and the wagon bled
freely at the nose, but otherwise the street is doing
well.. No insurance.
A boiler exploded at Memphis,'Tenn., blowing the
engineei’ into the air quite out of sight. He will re
ceive sls a day until he comes down again.
A man ran away from Litchfield, HL, to avoid pay
ing his debts. Ho left a family (not being able to
take them with him). No insurance.
A man accidentally fell from a steamer at New Or
leans, into the river. As he was going down the third
time ho suddenly recollected that his policy in tho
“ Breakneck” had expired. He then swam ashore,
sought out the agent, and renewed his policy, and im
mediately returned to the river, and sank the third
time in a serene and tranquil manner.
Wo havo.read many an»<»ao4.«> vx
the tmokness of the darkey’s skull, but noth
ing more quietly ridiculous than the following
which we clip from an exchange. Wo put it
down under its original title v
I knew a darkey once, who, unlike most of his
race, was industrious and economical. The result
was that he owned a “ house and lot” near a little
village in Western Pennsylvania. He soon conclud
ed ihatit wouldn’t do to own property of this kind
without keeping domestic animals on it, and deter
minued to “ stock” it. His first acquisition was an
old sheep, of the male persuasion, which he was very
proud of. He spent many leisure moments playing
with the animal and teaching it various pranks. Kia
chief amusement was to get down on the grass on
all fours and nod defiance at the animal. Seeing
which, the latter would make a savage; plunge at him
and attempt to try whose head was the hardest. (It
is a question.) But as the savage creature cams for
ward like a battering ram, Nig., would incline his
head suddenly and drop his face upon the earth. The
consequence was, that the sheep, missing his mark,
would tumble over ana over for a rod or two. One
day, Dark called a couple of passing neighbors to
witness thia achievement. They came to tho fence
and looked over, while he got down on hands and
knees, i/O usual, and began to nod at his property.
The sheep did not seem to see him at first, but, pres
ently, raised its head from the grass on which it was
grazing, and frowned upon him.
“ Oh, jis’ watch him now I” said Sambo, in glee.
Old Buckey made a rush, as was his wont, and
Sambo suddenly dropped his face to the ground.
But, as the fiends would have it, his flat nose came
in contact with a small, sharp snag ho had not ob
served before, and ho jerked back just in time to re
ceive the full shock of the sheep's hard head between
his own nose and wool. There was such a rolling
and tumbling over and over for the next quarter of a
minute, that the neighbors could not tell which was
the sheep and which was the nigger. They soon got
separated, though, and Mr. Nig. got slowly up,
grinned foolishly and said :
“ Pun iny word he nebber done flat afore! Gittin’
too smart for dis nigger. I’se a gwine to stopfool
in’with sich a fellah as dat!”
There was plenty of mutton in that neighborhood
the day, bftt that sheei> was never seen again.
There are married mon who are not
averse to seeing their wives kissed, but an ex
change relates the particulars of a case in
which a newly-wedded Benedict felt hinisolf
insulted because , • ;
Tire bridegroom ifi question was a stalwart young
rustic, who was known us a formidable operator in a
“free fight.” His bride was a beautiful and bloom
ing young country girl, only sixteen years of age, and
the twain were at a party where a number of youn"
folks were enjoying themselves in the good
ioned pawn-playing style. Every girl in tho room
was called put and kissed except 8., the beautiful
young bride aforesaid, and although there was not a
youngter present who was not dying to taste her lips,
they wore restrained by the presence of her herculean
husband, who stood regarding the party with a sullen
look of dissatisfaction. They mistook the cause, how
ever, for suddenly he expressed himself. Rolling up
his sleeves, ho stepped into the middle of the pom,
end in a tone of voice that secured marked attention,
said: “Gentlemen, I have been noticing how things
have been working here for some time, and I ain’t
half satisfied, I don’t want to raise a fuss, but ”
“ What’s thfi matter, John?” inquired half-a-dozen
voice*. “Whitdo yon mean? Have I done any
thing to hurt your feelings ?” “ Yes, you have; all
d£ you nave hurt my feelings, and I’ve just got this to
say al?oui it: etffy giri in toom qag
kissed neat a dozen times a-piece, ihlcT there's
Wife, who I consider as likely as any of them, has not
had a single one to-night; and I just tell you now, if
she don’t get as many kisses the balance of tho night
as any gal in the room, the man that slights her has
got me to fight—that’s all. Now go ahead with your
plays!” If Mrs. B was slighted during the bal-
ance of the evening we did not know it. As for our
self, we know that John had no fault to find with us
individually, for any neglect on our part. ■? -
There ifre a different ward of doing the
same thing, this is
The funniest story afloat is whispered concerning a
witty, accomplished, and estimable lady, in a certain
ambitious city, not a thousand miles away. Her hus
band was often detained from home to a later hour in
the evening than was thought to be the proper one
for retiring in well-regulated and happy families.
This slight circumstance, however, of an occasional
press of business, or a late chat “down town” with
some old friend from “down East,” had never caused
the cup cf connubial bliss to “slop over,” till in tho
stillness of an hour’s waiting for her liege lord, after
retiring, one pight, she fancied she heard a masculine
voice in the maid’s in low converse
with the hired girl. Suspicion once aroused, the
greon-oyed monster was not long in giving form and
shape to her imaginations. Boon, what she vainly
thought to thrust aside as an unworthy imputation
upon a most noble and loving husband, became a set
tled conviction, and tho agony of the still young and
beautiful wife was past description. By a heroic
struggle she choked down her wrath, and kept her
suspicion and discovery carefully locked within her
own breast She would not trust her own senses, but
resolved to watch. A few nights later, her waking
vigils were rewarded by a repetition of tne amours of
the maid's room, and this time she was positive.
Did she at once confront her lord with accusation
and upbraiding? Not she. For where was her
proof? She fixed her plans. She would confront the
betrayer in his lair. One night she sent tho girl off,
where she would not return till morning, and then
occupied the bed herself. A short timo after retiring,
somebody came stealthily into the room, and softly
crept into the bed by her side. Now was her nico
laid scheme successful. With commendable patience
and resolution she curbed her wrath, nor suffered it
to attain boiling heat till after about two hours of soft
and endearing dalliance. Then she arose, full of
wondering as to how he might exhibit his consterna
tion at being caught in his intended faithlessness, and
,turned on the gas; when, oh, horror! she saw that
she had caught—the coachman.
Au attempt was made to hush up the story; but it
has leaked out.
Mr. Bethell, an Irish barrister,
when the question of the Union was in debate, like
other junior barristers, published a pamphlet on the
subject. Mr. Lysaght met this pamphleteer in the
hall of the Four Courts, and in a friendly way, said:
“Bothell, I wonder you never told me you had pub
lished a pamphlet on the Union. The one I saw con
tained some of the best things I have seen in any
pamphlet on the subject.” “I am very proud you
think so,” said the delighted author; “and pray,
what are tho things that please you so much?”
“Why,” replied Lysaght, “as I passed by 3 pastry
cook’s shop, I saw a girl come out with thro? mince
pies wrapped up in one of your works.” *
A crusty and disgusted South
erner in Canada, writes the following ode to the snow
and frost of that country ; “ Oh! the frost, freezing
frost, biting our nose as we go ; all sense of feeling
is utterly lost, and our zest for the beautiful snow..
The northern king a tribute h&a wrung, in the shape
of a pearly tear z which 3 moment ago like a dew drop
hung, from the point often graced with a sneer. Oh!
the frost, the delectable frosty that finds us wherever
we go, wrapped in its fearsome shroud like a ghost,
and conveying to our meridian blood a thorough dis
gust for those sentimental donkeys who hypocritical
ly prate of the beatiful snow.”
A gentleman, who lives in a
quiet town near Milwaukie, was invited to. bring his
wife to the city and spend, the holidays. Ho said he
would be glad to do but his wife was expecting a
now bonnet from New York, and if it did not come
she would not show herself in fashionable society.
On Monday, the Milwaukie gentleman received the
following note: “My wife has got the bonnet! It
came by express. This is an ‘episode.’ You ought
to see it. It looks like a nigger-minstrel’s breast-pin;
or an enormous jot flngor-ring, cut so as to have the
sotting fit round the ears. You may expect us.”
I pressed her gentle form to me*
and Whispered in her ear if, when I was far far aw&y,
she’d drop for me a tear! I paused for some objur
ing words, my throbbing heart to cool, and with her
ig?/ Ups sbo said, “Oh, Ike, you’re sioh a (poV*
; A few Sundays since an excel-
j lent Congregational clergyman, not far from North
? Yarmouth, Maine, indulged in quite a novel method
. in reviving the drowsy slumbers of a large portion of
L his congregation. When about half through his dis-
L coarse ho came to a stop and broke out in one of
, those peculiar hymns not unfrequently used on funo
, ral occasions, and when he had finished he oseiaimed,
. with much earnestness, “If such singing as this is
. sufficient to wake you up, I don’t know what
“Vegetable pills!” exclaimed an
old lady; “don’t talk to me of such stuff. The best
vegetable pill ever made is an apple dumpling; for
destroying a gnawing in tho stomach there’s nothing
like it; it can always be relied on.”
lt was a Dutchman who said a
pig had no ear marks except a short tail; and it was
a British magistrate who, being told by a vagabond
that ho was not married, responded,- “That’s a good
thing for your wife.”
- “Here, you young rascal, walk
up and give an account of yourself. Where have you
been ?”—“After the girls, father.” “ Did you 1
know me to do nn whoa i wm u boy “ No, sir ;
Dut rnotnor did.” 5
~ A bright little girl, in playful i
anger, caught hold of an old sister, saying, “Now,
I'll shako the sawdust out of you,” thinking the •
human species was got up on tho same plan as her •
doll. ’ . , 1—
The best definition of cholera,. ’
barring its irreverence, is Beecher’s last. Ho says
that cholera is God’s opinion of nastiness*.
“I do not say that man will ’
steal,” said a witness on a trial, “but if I was a chick- 1
en I’d roost high when he was around.”
Why is a mad bull an animal of
a convivial disposition? Because ho offers 3-horn to {
every one he meets. ,
Why is the endorser of a note j
called a surety? Because he is almost sure to have j
to pay it. <
Why is a hotel ghost like a po- 1
liceman ? Because it is an inn-spec Ire.
When thunder claps, for whom
is the applause intended ?
A photographer’s epitaph
“Taken from life,”
Can the sun’s character be con- ;
sidered spotless ?
By Adolph. B. Bcralsnaes.
Excelsior I brightest of yon bright throng,
That fill all tho blue dome of Heaven;
Excelsior 1 nightly I gaze on the long,
More bright than the sunken sun levin.
Expectant, I watch the skies when daylight fades,.
To catch the first faint glimpse of thee;
Enraptured I gaze, while the sweet valley glades
No longer breathe charms for me.
Euphonious gushlngs, voluminously
Steal soft on the ambiant air;
Ah! whence come they, these strains of sweet
That ebb, flow, and swell everywhere ?
Come they from the
Ah, no! they unconsciously fall forth in showers
From the choirs in yon bright, shining God.
O, would I were like thee, beauteous star*.
In my place, as thou art in thine!
O, would I were like thee, glorious star.
Outpouring a.light so divine I
O, would I were like thee, rarest gem.
In lustra and glory supreme!
I would not then covet the deeds of them.
The gods that before me now gleam.
Ah! then would the world cling, with throbbing
To my. teachings as I to thine own—
Unchanging, eternal, through Time's ceaseless flight;
Ah 1 then would I not be unknown.
City Government.
. Resolved, That Fifty-thirff street, from the Eighth
to Eleventh avenue, be paved with trap-block or Bel
gian pavement, under the direction of tho Croton
Aqueduct Department, and that the accompanying
ordinance therefor be adopted.
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, June 25, 18&J.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 20, 1866.
Approved by tho Mayor, Dec. 22, 1866.
■ D. T. Valentine, Clerk.
Resolved, That Park avenue, from Thirty-eighth to
Fortieth street, bo paved with Belgian pavement, un
der the direction of the Croton Aqueduct Board, and
that the accompanying ordinance therefor be adopted.
Adopted by the Board of Aldorinen, Juno 4, 1863.
Adopted by the Board of Councilman, Dec. 17,1860.
Approved by the Mayor, Dec. 22, 1860.
. . , D. T. Valentine, Clerk.
Resolved, That tho Croton Board bo authorized and
directed to pave Eighty-fourth street, from the Third
to the Fourth avenue, with Belgian pavement, the
property owners to pay the entire expense thereof,
rnent, and that the accompanying ordinance therefor
be adopted. ■ . : .
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, Ju”s 1886.
Adopted by the Board of
Approved by the Mavor. 22, 18C6.
r^.' f B. T. Valentine, Cierk.
Resolved, That James L. Young be authorized and
permitted uuon hie taking up the water grant passed
to him by the Commissioners of the Sinking Fund,
on the 15th day of October, 1865, to build a stone pier
in front of his new promises on the south side of
117th street and Harlem River, which pier shall ex
tend from high-water mark to the Harbor Commis
sioner’s line, to bo thirty fee wide, and to be so placed
as to leave not less than fifty-eight feet betweenit and
the present pier at the foot of 117th street.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Nov. 19, 1866.
Adopted by the Board of Aldermen, Dec. 15, 1866.
Approved by the Mayor, Dec. 24,1866.
Ul ■:■■■'- D. T. Valentine, Clerk.
Whereas, The trades of the Third Avenue Railroad
Company, at the intersection of Seventy-fourth street
and Third avenue, fully one foot above tho grade of
the street, and have been so raised by said company
in direct and open violation of the charter or grant as
well as of the ordinance of the Common Council, are
serious obstacles to the free and unobstructed use of
the said street by the public; be it, therefore, •>
Resolved, That the Street Commissioner be and he
is hereby directed to notify the said Third AvA~- rte
I- iratk lo theestab-
Eslicd grade of ths Third av&itt6 at Seventy-fourth
street; and in the event of a refusal or neglect on the
- part of the railroad company to comply with the di
rections contained in such notification for a period of
ten days, then the said Street Commissioner is hereby
authorized and directed to lower the said track to the
established grade of the street, and to sue for and re
cover from said railroad company the expense of the
work. - i- ■. ;
Adopted by the Board of Aldermen, Dec. 20,1866.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 24, 1866.
Approved by the Mayor, Dec. 26, 1866.
• -t. . ■'4*l *i, D. T, Valentine, Clerk.
REsotu no n.
Whereas, The sheds erected on the Battery, for
war and other purposes, are no logger used for such
purposes, and it is currently reported that such sheds
are used by private parties for piuposes entirely dis
connected with the original intention of their erec
tion; therefore, bo it . .
Resolved, That the Street Commissioner be and he
is hereby authorized and directed to remove such
sheds at the earliest practicable moment.
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, Dec. 20, 1866.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 24,1866.
Approved by the Mayor, Dec. 26, 1866.
‘ D. T. Valentine, Clerk.
Resolved, That a basin and culvert ba built on the
southwest corner of Thirl v-firsi street and Third ave
nue, under the direction of the Croton Aqueduct
Board, and that the accompanying ordinance therefor
be adopted.
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, Nov. 24,1866.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 24, 1866.
Approved by the Mayor, Dec. 26,1866.
> D. T. Valentine. Clerk.
Resolved, That a crosswalk of granite block be laid 1
across Eighth avenue, from the northeasterly corner
of Eighth avenue and Fourth street to the southwest- 1
erly corner of Eighth avenue and Fourth street, un- 3
der the direction of the Croton Aqueduct Board, and 1
that the accompanying ordinance therefor be adopted. 1
Adopted by the Board of Aldermen, Dec. 17, 1868. ‘
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 24, 1866. !
Approved by the Mayor, Doc. 26, 1866.
D. T. Valentine, Clerk. ’
Resolved, That the Counsel to the Corporation take J
the necessary legal measures to open One Hundred
and Twenty-ninth street, from the Second to the ]
Third avenue, according to law.
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, Dec. 17,1866. !
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 20, 1866. ’
Approved by the Mayor, Dec. 28, 1866.
D. T. Valentine, Clerk. j
Resolved, That the Street Commissioner be and he *
is hereby authorized to enter into an agreement or 5
contract with the contractor for regulating Ninety- 1
third street, between Eighth avenue and the Bloom
ingdale road, for furnishing and filling in the defi
ciency of earth filling required on said street, at a
price not exceeding sixty-five cents per cubic yard.
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, Dec. 17, 1866.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 24,1866.
Approved by the Mayor, Dec. 28, 1866.
; . D. T. Valentine, Clerk.
Resolved, That the owner or owners of lots known
as Nos. 17, 18, 19 and 20 on the ward map of the
Twelfth Ward, on file in the Tax Commissioners’
office, situated on the north side of One Hundred and ’
Thirty-third etreet, between Fourth and Fifth avo- 1
nues; and also the lots known on the same map as
Nos. 20, 21, 22 and 23, situated on the north side of ,
One Hundred and Thirty-third street between Sixth 1
and Seventh avenues, have permission to regulate, 1
curb and gutter, and lay sidewalks in front of the ’
above described property, at their own expense and ’
under the direction of the Street Commissioner.
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, Oct. 8, 1866.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 27,1866.
Approved by the Mayor, Dec. 28, 1866.
D. T. Valentine, Clerk.
Resolved, That the sidewalks in Fourteenth street,
between the Second and Third avenues, be flagged to
their full width, under the direction of the Street
and that the accompanying ordinance
therefor be adopted.
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, Dec. 17, 1866.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 27,1866.
Approved by the Mhyor, Doc. 28, 1866.
Y '-: - D. T. Valentine, Clerk.
Res/olved, That Seventy-Fourth, street, from Fifth
avenue to East River, be regulated and graded, under
the direction of the Street Commissioner, and that
accompanying ordinance therefor be adopted.
Adopted by the Board ot Aldermen, Nov. 22, 186 G.
■' Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 27,18{&
Approved by tlje Mayor, Dec. 28, 1866. /
. D. T. Valentine, Chfrk.
• . - -• X *'« V fifiSOLUTIOI?.
• Besolvea, Tttiat crosswalks be laid across Third
„ »Y9U’» st its iaHwetttoa with. Ono Hwlred asi
Fourth and Ono Hundred and Fifth streets, teder
the direction of the Street Commissioner, and thaf
the accompanying ordinance therefor bo adopted.
Adopted by the Board of Aldermen, Deo. 29, 1866. '■-
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dee. 27, 1863*
Approved by the Mayor, Doc. 28, 1866. <£
; r D. T. Valentine, Clerk*
Resolved, That the Controller be and he is hereby
aruaorized and directed to draw a warrant in favor oi
Patrick Coughlan, for the sum of one hundred and
twenty dollars ($120), to reimburse him foi* money
expended in erecting or constructing a well and
pump, for the accommodation of the residents in th a
vicinity of Kingsbridge road, and One Hundred ana
Seventy-fifth street; the amount to be charged by tha
Controller to the account of “ City Contingencies.” v
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, March 14, 1866.'
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 20* 1860,
Received from his Honor the Mayor, Dec. 31,186&
without his approval or objections thereto; therefore!
under the provisions of the amended Charter of 1857 i
the same became adopted. u
D. T. Valentine, Clerk. ’!
Resolved, That the Controller is hereby directed to
draw a wftmnt c iO omuui three hundred and
seven dollars ($307), in favor of Joseph H. Toons,
Deputy County Clerk, and charge the same to any 1
appropriation having a balance sufficient to pay the
same*; the said sum to be in full payment for services
in searching tho records in the County Clerk’s office
for the purpose of compiling and furnishing tho Com
mon Council with a complete list of all Commilsion—
ops of Deeds whose terms of office have expired to
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 13,
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, Dec. 20, 1866.
Received from his Honor tho Mayor, Dee. 31, 1866,
without his approval or objections thereto; therefore,
under tho provisions of the amended Charter of 1857,
tho same became adopted.
D. T. Valentine, Clerk.
Resolved, That tha Controller be and he is hereby
authorized and directed to draw his warrants in favor
of the persons and for the amounts respectively as
passed by the Board of City Canvassers, Dec. 17, 1866,
for services to said Board; tho amount to be token ’
from the appropriation for election expenses or any
other account having an unexpended balance sum*
cient to pay the same. •
Adopted by tho Board of Aidermen, Dec. 20, 1866. ’
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 21, 1868*
Approved by tho Mayor, Jan. 2,1867.
D. T. Valentino, Clerk.
Resolved, That Gustavus A. Valentine be and he is
hereby appointed a Commissioner of Deeds in and fo»
tho City and County of New York, in place of John
Dargave, who has failed to qualify; also, that Everett
P. Wheeler be and he is hereby appointed a CommlSw
sioner of Deeds in and for the City and County of
New York in the place of John F. Kirby, who has also
failed to qualify.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 24, 1866*
Adopted by the Board of Aldermen, Dec. 31, 1866.
Approved by the Mayor, Jan. 2,1867. >
D. T. Valentine, Olerk,
Resolved, That gas-mains be extended in Tenth,
avenue, from 176th to 185th street, under the direc
tion of tho Street Commissioner.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 20, 1866.
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, Dec. 31, 1866.
Approved by the Mayor. Jan. 2. 1867. 1 »
D. T. Valentine Olexk*
Resolved, That Daniel S. Marvin be end he is here
by appointed a Commissioner of Deeds in and for tha
City and County of New York, in place of Ems>
Simon, who ha‘J failed to quality.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 24, 1865,
Adopted by the Board of Aldermen, Doc. 31, 1866. ;
Approved by the Mayor, Jan. 2.1867. !
D. T. Valentine, Clerk*
Resolved, That Edward B. Heath be and he is here
by appointed a Commissioner of Deeds in place q<
Edward Fitzpatrick, who has failed to qualify.
Adopted by the Board of Aldermen, Doc. 31,4866.
Adopted by the Board of Councilman, Dec. 31,1866.
Approved by the Mayor, Jan. 2, 1867.
1). T. Valentine, Clerk. : j
Resolved, That David Thornton be and he is herd,
by appointed a Commissioner of Deeds m place of
Benjamin L. Horton, who failed to quality.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Deo. 27, 1865.
Adopted by tho Board of Aiderman, Dsc. 31, 1866. ’
Approved by the Mayor, Jan- 2, 1867. ’ •
D. T. Valentine, Olerk. j*
Resolved, That gas mains be laid and gas lamps
erected in First avenue, between Thirty-sixth and
Sixty-sixth streets, where not already erected, undex
the direction of the Street Commissioner.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 24, 1865.
Adopted by the Board of Aldermen, Dec. 81, 1865, ■
Approved by the Mayor, Jan. 2, 1867. -- ’ilt
D. T. Valentine, Clerk. ■?*
Resolved, That Croton mains be laid in One Hun 4
dred and Nineteenth street, between First avenuf
and Avenue A, under tho direction of tho Croton
Aqueduct Department.
Adopted by tho Board of Councilmen, Dec. 27, 1866,
Adopted by the Board of Aldormon, Dec. 31,1865,
Approved by the Mayor, Jan. 2,1887. i
D. T. Valentine, Clerk. I
Resolved, That Andrew B. Bartell be and he If
hereby appointed a Commissioner of Deeds ba plao#
of Dennis Hogan, who has failed to qualify.
Adopted by the Board of Aldermen, Dec. 31, 1836.
Adopted by tho Board of Councilmen, Dec. 31,1865.
Approved by the Mayor, Jan. 2, 1867.
D. T. Valentine, Clerk, '
Resolved, That Andrew H. Isaacs be and he is here*
by appointed.a Commissioner of Deeds in place
Richard Enwright, who has failed to quality.
Adopted by the Board of Aldermen, Dgc-£l, 1886,
Adopted by tho Board of Councilman f X>ec. 31, 1806,.
Approved by the Jan, 2- Mbt.
D. T. Valentine, Clerk.
ItePiiv&d. That gas-mains be laid and gas lamp®
ci .ln tii-o Iransvcrso j?ot\3s ciotohs tHo CJontrai
Bark, in use for business purposes exclusively, undw
the direction of the Street Commissioner,
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 20,1885.
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, Dec. 31, 1806.
Approved by the Mayor, Jan. 2,186 i.
v• ■ 4 JX T. Valentine, Clerjt
/• -\ b. I- ‘ RESOLV'TIok.’ '
whereas, By act of the Legislature of th®
State of New York, passed April 30, 1866, tho May
or, Aldermen and Commonalty of the City of New
York were permitted, authorized and empowered to
cede, grant and convey to tho United States of Ame
rica upon such terms and for such price as might be
agreed upon with the authorities of tho United States,
all their estate, right, title and interest of, in and to
so much and such portion Or portions of the easterly
end or extremity of the land and lands under water,
commonly known as the Battery Extension, in thd
City of New York, with tho open slips or basin at tha
easterly end thereof, as may be required by the
United States of America, not exceeding two hundred
and fifty feet, and necessary for the purpose of erootj
ing and establishing a barge office and other suitable
buildings, as more particularly specified in said aett
and also to further cede to the United States a right
of way or passage of not less than seventy-five feet id
width from tha aforesaid lands and premises ove«
and across the lands adjacent thereto, known as thj
Battery Ground, for the purposes of ingress and
Sgrea6 to and from Whitehall street in said city; and
Whereas, The proper authorities of the Unite!
required for the purposes aforesaid, in accordance
yith the terms of said act, which survey is hereto an
nexed, and which premises, as shown by said
vey, are bounded and described as follows to wit; •
Commencing at a point in the old Battery wall dla-i
tant two hundred and twenty-five feet in a direct Una
westerly from the intersection of tho easterly end of
the said wall with the pier on the west side of Staten
Island Ferry slip, and running from thence on a nor
mal line a distance of about two hundred and thirteen
feet six inches to the exterior line of the proposal
Battery Extension, as established by the Harbor Com?
misaiqners; thence elong tho aforesaid exterior liri4
easterly to the westerly side of the pier on the west 4
erly side of the Staten Island Ferry slip; thence
northerly along the said pier for the distance of abou|
two hundred and twenty foot to the intersection .of the
old Battery wall with the said pier; and thence west<{
erly in a d'rect line to the place of beginning; no# M
therefore, be it i;. f
Resolved, TJiat tho Mayor and Clerk of the Common
Council of the City of New York do execute and de
liver to the United States of America a proper deed of
conveyance, to be approved by the Counsel to the
Corporation of said city, of the premises horeinabovc|r
described; and also the right of way over the Battery
to Whitehall street, as above described. That saidl
conveyance be made for and upon such pecuniary
consideration, nominal or otherwise, as shall ba
agreed upon by and between the United States and
Commissioners of the Sinking Fund of the City and
County of New York, and upon the proviso and con
dition, to be embodied in said conveyance, that tha
said lands under water, or so much thereof as as may
be required by the United States for the
aforesaid, shall be filled in wholly by and at the ex-p
pense of the United States; and that the filling in and
construction of the exterior wall of the Battery Exten
sion in front of the lands so conveyed shall be mada
by and at the expense .of the United States; such ex*
tenor wall to be equal in character and quality to that
in front of the other portion of the said Battery Ex
tension; and upon tho further proviso and condition;
that a staircase shall be erected, by and at the expense
of the United States, at some convenient place upon
the premises, for tho accommodation of boats’ crews
in the service of the War, Navy, or Post-Office Depart
ment, and of foreign national vessels; and, also, upont
the proviso and condition that the said right of way
across tha Battery shall not be inclosed, but shall al
ways continue to be an open way; and, also, upon tha
proviso and condition that the title thereby conveyed
shall revert to the city whenever the said premises
shall cease to be used and occupied by tho United
States for a barge office, and other suitable bullclingx
and structures for the transaction of public business
connected with the United States revenue service, and
for the landing of revenue and other Government
boats and barges for tie use, convenience, and accom
modation of the United States Custom-Houso for tha
port bi New York.
Adopted by the Board of Aidermen, Dec. 29,1866.
Adopted by the Board of Councilmen, Dec. 31,1866.
Approved by the Mayor, Jan. 2, 1866.
D. T. Valentine, Clerk.
...... w— . r w »—J
Ale tn Pkose and Veesb is the titl<j
of a neat little work just issued. The poetic portioa
is by Barry Gray, written in the author’s happiest
yein, while among the illustrations we recognize ex
cellent likenesses of Joseph B. and William H. Tay
lor, of Albany. To John H. Savage is assigned tho.
prose, or “ Ale Historical Antiquarian and Literary/*
who handles it like one fully acquainted with tho
subject. The book closes with an account of the risa
and progress of the brewery of John Taylor & Sons,
with a biographical sketch of the founder.
Margaret Hamilton. By Mrs. C. J.
Newby. F. A. Brady, publisher.
Like all the works of this talented and pleasing
authoress, the novel now in hand is a superior one.
There is a depth and feeling in Mrs. Newby’s pecu
liar style not reached by the sensation writers of tha
day. She Is a powerful delineator of charactzr, white
at the same time she appeals to the best emotions of
the heart. Tho world can never be worse for her
writings, and the chances are that it will bo better.
Brought to ‘Light. By Thomaa
Bptlght. Hilton & Co~
Taking it »ll in all, we say " boldly and without fear
of Contradiction," that the story now before us, is
ui:« of the finest creations it has ever been our pleas
to to review. Its style is clear and Incisive, and it
Will bo read by all who comprehend fine artlsU*
writing. ■■4 .
The Galaxy, for January 15th, 14
upon bur table. We can only repeat what wo hava
already said; it is pure and high-toned, and.
Mil xerj Vest swgwiilw ot tUe dw. ' ’

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