OCR Interpretation


New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, June 13, 1869, Image 6

Image and text provided by Library of Congress, Washington, DC

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn85026214/1869-06-13/ed-1/seq-6/

What is OCR?


Thumbnail for 6

6
NO LONGER YOUNG.
•* No longer young 0, infidel mistake I
“No longer fair”—o, pagan no such thing 1
The things that cniy seem we ever take
For real things, though ever taking wing:
These hairs so gray are not of me, though mine,
Nor yet these wrinkles, creeping fold on fold;
Youth, as in youth, hath every inward sign,
And I grow young as I am growing old.
’Tis thought alone, not years, by which we grow;
*Tis but in soul, not body, that we be;
We burgeon in to youth as more we know,
And shine more fair as more we learn to see:
Not on the shell that shuts us in the dark
Is seen the light that cannot break aglow,
But through it /Ulis the splendor, spark on spark,
To stir the germ and set its life allow.
•« No longer young”—O, we are born but old,
And youth and innocence lie far before;
** No longer fair”—we but put off the mold
With which at first we enter at the door:
We kindle into glory day by day
If but ofir lives are kept apart from show;
Not what we take, but what we put away,
Of sodden earth’s, is that by which we grow.
We walk the corridors that are not seen,
Nor built with hands, nor ever shall decay;
And what we know is not where we have been,
But what the treasure is we bring away.
In youth we walk them with reluctant feet,
For youth is feeble, and its way is long;
But when in age, as Arab coursers fleet.
We bound the heavenly path—for age is strong.
•• No longer young”—O, pagan no such thing !
No longer fair”—O, infidel mistake 1
Youth and delight are all that years can bring—
Decay and age are all that years may take :
These steps so feeble and this form so frail
Denote a strength that shall forever hold;
I see more clearly as my eyes do fail,
And I grow young as I am growing old.
K2EISS2BKSE«nSESBiSBSESnESES3Ei3SI
[Original.]
THE POTOMAC SCOUT;
OR, THE
Adventures of Sergeant Hogan.
BY CAM. CONYN6HAM,
Author of “frank o’donnell,” “sherman’s
MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH,” “ THE IRISH
BRIGADE,” &C., &C.
NUMBER I.
Early Services—Detailed as a Seoul—ln the
Hebei Lines—Goes to Baltimore—Runs the
Blockade—Startling Recognition Narrow
Escape—:The Execution of Private Langton.
The life of a scout is one full of perils and
adventures. He may be captured, tried as a
spy, and hung ; but of ail this his friends and
the world may hear nothing, and the scout
meets his death without a friend or comrade
to console him, or a tear shed to hallow his
memory.
Such has been the fate of many of my com
rades, and though a kind Providence has pro
tected mo, I often shudder when I look back
>and think how narrowly I have escaped it sev
eral times myself.
In July, 1861,1 enlisted in the Third Indiana ,
Cavalry, then under command of Colonel Scott
Carter, and stationed near Madison. I was
eoon promoted to a sergeantcy, and shortly
afterward, we were ordered to Washington,
and assigned to General Hooker’s command. '
Our regiment subsequently served under Gen
oral Shields in the McClellan campaign, and
covering Pope’s retreat. We were next as- j
isigned to General Rleasontoa’s command, and ,
rendered good service at Antietam, where I ,
got wounded. I next served under General
•Burnside, and participated in the disastrous
campaigns around Fredericksburg. ,
In the Spring of 1863, General Hooker as
sumed command of the Army of the Potomac,
and at once reorganized the Secret Service,
and strengthened this department with new
and reliable men. Though 1 had expressed no
■wish for such service, my colonel took it into
'his head that I would make a good scout.
Having sent for me one morning, he said :
“ Sergeant Hogan, Colonel Sharp wants somo
good men for scouts, I have recommended
you to him.”
I urged on the colonel that I knew nothing
of the business, and would sooner remain with :
my command.
My remonstrance was unheeded. I had to
obey orders, and accordingly reported to Colo- ,
nel G. Sharp, and was assigned to General
Hooker’s headquarters.
At this time the Federal army was encamped
around Aquia Creek, Falmouth, and back to
ward Warrenton and Fairfax.
General Lee held the right banks of the Rap
pahannock and Rapidan, with strong lines of •
intrenchments along the ridge of hills in the
rear.
General Hooker was preparing for a forward
movement, and was desirous of getting the
most reliable information of the strength and
position of the enemy, I was accordingly or
dered to cross the Rappahannock between Fal
mouth and Port Conway, and make a detour to
the rear of Lee’s army.
On the morning of the 26th of February I
on foot, and reached the river toward
evening. I found it strongly picketed on both
sides, and as I was anxious to consul myself 1
from our men as well as frrja the rebels I se- i
creted myself in the forest until night. ’l was i
armed with a seven shooter and revolver, and 1
dressed in gray uniform. I had just reached 1
the river, and was preparing to wade through, 1
when I was challenged by one of our pickets, 1
wno called out:
“Who goes there? Halt!” <
“A friend with the countersign,” I replied. <
I advanced, gave the countersign, but seeing 1
my rebel uniform, he suspected me as a spy, i
and arrested me.
“I want to see the officer of the post,” I i
said. ,
“You do, do you? Waal, I reckon you’ll see ’
him time enough for your reception,” was the i
gruff reply. i
“ That’s no affair of yours,” I replied.
“Oh! sartainly not! But if I were in your i
place, and could recall a prayer or two, I’d say 1
them while I had the chance. We strung up i
one of your fellows we caught prowling about 1
a few days since, and I reckon you’ll follow.” :
I informed the officer of the nature of my ]
business, and showed him my pass, which read ■
thus: i
Headquarters Army of the Potomac, I i
February 24th, 1863. j
Sergeant Hogan Is on the secret service list, and will 1
be allowed full and free commnnication through the ]
lines. (Signed.) By order of GEN. HOOKER. i
u. Share, Col. Ac.
I kept this important document carefully (
concealed between two cases of an old tobacco
box. As for hiding it in my clothes or boots,
they were too well up to that game. j
I crossed the river that night near the plan- ’
tation of a Mr. Fielding Lewis. I had resolved 1
to pass myself off as an agent of certain parties ,
in Baltimore, to negotiate about the sale of
rifles such as I carried, and certain supplies of ■
which I knew they stood much in need. As I
had to ford the river, and the weather being ■
intensely cold, I was almost frozen when I got <
over. (
There wag a drizzling snow falling at the i
w” the rebel pickets were grouped j
sirGu’nd a blazing log fire, and did not perceive i
me until I held my frozen hands before the 1
blaze. They were a detail of the Ninth Vir- :
ginia Cavalry, I turned to the sergeant and ’
asked:
“ Who is the officer in command of the pick- :
ct?”
The sergeant scanned me closely for a mo
ment, and then, as if his suspicions were
aroused, asked:
“ Who are you, sir?”
“That’s my affair,” I replied. “I have not
come through the d d Yanks to tell you
that.”
Captain Hungerforce was officer of the post,
and after some more parleying with the ser
geant, I was brought before him. I showed
him my false credentials, and made up such a
story that I was at once sent under
•escort to his colonel, who, after a close scru
tiny of my papers and business, forwarded me
to Gen. A. P. Hill’s headquarters, at a place
called Hicks’ Hill.
I was closely examined by Col. Kingsley,
chief of ordnance, and by the provost marshal,
both of whom expressed themselves fully satis
fied, and warmly entered into my project of
smuggling rifles from Baltimore. 1 remained
in camp ibr about a week, and from observa
tion and elily pumping orderlies and the men,
was able to collect the desired information.
I conversed with several generals and officers,
including Lee, Hill, Capt. Parkhurst, Fourth
Virginia Cavalry, Col. Bretch, Fifteenth Vir
ginia Cavalry, A. P. Hill's quartermaster, and
many others. I took a mental note of every
thing I saw in camp, their stores, position, in
trenchments and relative strength.
Lee’s army was much weaker at the time
than was supposed even by the Federate; but
ns they were expecting a forward movement
soon of Hooker’s army, reinforcements were or
dered from around Richmond and other points.
Lee was concentrating all his available forces
for the Spring'campaign, which he knew would
soon open.
I got a pass by order of General Lee, and
letters to parties in Baltimore, including one
to Captain Armstrong, a noted blockade run
ner. I returned by the plank road to Freder
icksburg and recroesed the river at Layton’s
Ferry, going into Westmoreland county, ap
parently on my way to Baltimore, but in reali
ty to General Hooker’s quarters.
My information was so minute and valuable
that it was scarcely credited until confirmed by
subsequent events.
I arranged with General Hooker that in or
der to carry on the deception and strengthen
their confidence in me, I should go to Balti
more and be unmolested in my blockade opera
tions for some time, that Armstrong’s skipper
would cross the Potomac at Mattock’s creek
end deliver her cargo byway of Layton’s Fer
ry, and that I would let him know the proper
time to capture her.
I called on Captain Armstrong In Baltimore,
•and he introduced me to several wealthy se
cessionists of the city.
I had several orders from Confederate offi
cers for supplies of rifles, clothing, coffee, and
several other stores: and as most of them ad
vanced the money, and secret sympathizers
advanced the rest, we were able in a few days
to ship a very valuable cargo.
Our first trip was a great success, and our
stores were soon disposed of to the rebel offi
cers at moderate profits and at less than h alf
the prices charged them by eutiers: beside, we
brought them several luxuries not included in
the commissariat bill of fare.
A few cases of rifles put the generals in good
humor, and we met a warm reception from all
parties.
Captain Armstrong and his crew wore a jol
ly, boisterous set, 'and heartily cursed the
Yanks. Like all betrayers and converts, I ex
ceeded them in zeal and loyalty to the Confed
eracy, and they soon came to look upon me as
the most violently loyal rebel of the party.
About this time an incident occurred which
came very near bringing my career to a close.
When ready to return sor another trip, I went
to General Hill’s quarters for fresh orders.
While there, one of our men, who was arrested
within the Confederate lines and suspected of
being a spy, was on trial before a court mar
tial. Papers were found on him with memo
randa of the position of the rebel works and
batteries and the strength of the different
commands.
Ail this was enough to convict him, without
the evidence of a deserter from our side, who
at once identified him as a member of the regi
ment in which be had served.
I happened to be in the tent when the pris
oner was brought in, and at once knew him as
one of our scouts. I must confess that my
heart jumped to my mouth, but though Lang
ton (for that was his name) recognized me at
once, he did not show it. I am sure my pres
ence consoled the brave fellow, for I could at
least bear witness of how firmly and unflinch
ingly he met his death.
Tne deserter identified him at once, and
recognizing me in the tent, pointed his hand
at me exclaiming:
“ Ha 1 there is another spy I”
This drew the attention of all present
upon me, and I must confess that a secret
terror seized me, when I recognized in the
ruffian a deserter from our brigade, named
Crofton ; but men who hold their lives in the
hollow of their hands are not easily discon
certed, so I at once recovered my composure,
and sneeringly remarked,
“ This fellow will soon make us all out spies.”
“What else brings you here Sergeant
Hogan ?”
“You mistake my good fellow, Loftis is my
name 1”
I replied without a change of muscle, though
I knew that keen eyes were searching me
through and through.
“Loftis indeed! don’t you know Colonel
Carter of the Third Indian Cavalry, Sergeant
Hogan?”
I denied the charge in so cool and con
temptuous a manner as to tell favorably for
me. Langton was questioned, and offered his
pardon on conditions that he would reveal all
he knew about the Federal army, and was asked
if he knew me.
The noble fellow coolly replied, “No, gentle
men, I am not going to turn traitor or deserter
to save my life, nor will I do it by criminating
an innocent man either.”
I felt like embracing him, and I could
scarcely contain myself when I considered the
dreadful fate that awaited him.
Langton’s reply, coupled with my late smug
gling record, told forcibly in my favor, and all ■
seemed to agree that Crofton must have mis- i
taken my identity.
Private Langton was sentenced to bo hung <
on the following morning, and I hung around
camp to see if any chance should offer of 1
effecting his escape. :
He was chained and double-guardeded and 1
I at once noticed that my own actions wore
closely watched. I spent a restless, anxious j
night, devising schemes for his escape but ■
alas 1 when I heard the clank of the poor fel- (
low’s chains, and the measured tread of the 1
double-guard, I gave up all hopes. What ’
could Ido ? even if I shot down the sentries, <
before I could free him from the chains, the 1
whole camp would be around us, and I’d only ’
succeed in sharing his fate. I
He met his fato with resignation and forti- i
tude, and as ho mounted the trap his eyes met (
mine for a moment, but he hastily turned ’
them away for fear the least signs of recogni- 1
tion would pass between us. He then, having :
got permission to speak, said : :
“I confess lam a scout, and I feel that I i
was but doing my duty when caught. I might 1
as well die here as m the field, and I have only (
to request that if any of you should ever meet 1
my officers or comrades, 'to tell them that I '
have met my fate like a soldier. That’s all I i
have to say.” i
These were the last words uttered by the i
brave fellow, for in a few minutes he was a j
corpse. i
I joined Captain Armstrong that evening in i
order to sail the following rfight on our second i
smuggling trip. i
(To be continued.)
(
[ Original. 1
NANNAEKA; ■
OR,
THE WECHIA’S CAPTIVE. i
j
BY L,. H. CALBWELL. ’
"Lachepa s, lachepas mi," exclaimed Mel- 1
bon to our party, as we rode carefully down the <
rugged bluff that nature had apparently formed ]
into a wall about five hundred feet high, yet (
from which the storms of centuries had crum- j
bled huge masses, and scattered them in con- f
fusion from the battlements to the ravines be- (
low. J
We were bound northward, on a long and t
dangerous trail, our destination the Wechia I
districts, my first trip beyond the Saline. Mel
bon was the guide of our expedition—a Span- E
ish half-breed, with dialect troublesome. The 4
Indian horses followed quite reluctantly, Bev- <
eral times severing the lines, but our guide as
quickly renewed them. Our progress was not 1
very rapid. In the course of our descent to <
tho canon the rocks presented the appearance <
of decomposing granite and sandstone. The j
hills and ridges were covered with fragments
of a yellow sandstone, which sadly intercepted (
the movements of our horses. At many points j
the argillaceous crags projected hundreds of t
feet in our way, mounted by stunted shrubs f
and dwarfish trees, that made our progress ,
painful and very fatiguing. The scenery was *
extremely beautiful, and notwithstanding the 1
saddened condition of our minds, we were of
ten compelled to pause and admire it. Bay- n
ard, the life of our party—one we all loved and ,
respected—had suddenly left us, how or why 1
we knew not. To find him, we had deviated ,
irom our true course, and wore bound for the ;
canon below. c
I bad fallen into line near the horse of Will i
Brunt, and during our ride down the cliff ob- 6
tained much information about the wilds we ,
were soon to enter, and as the rest of the party
had left us behind, we slowly jogged on, en- f
gaged in conversation.
“Where is the Kiowa country, Brunt?” I j
asked. ,
“Well, I vow, yon’s kinder axed more’n I’s j
able to answer, though you’s sartin o’ one
thing—that I’ll tell ye all 1 knows of the crit- j
ters. For thirty years uv the past I’ve had ,
more or less to do with the Injins—Lipans, ,
Kickapoos, Yenkeways and Semmoles—but ,
nary honester redskins ever lit a war fire than t
the Kiowas. Seven winters ago I lost my way i
in follerin’ trail near the Taheajameva creek, ,
’bout twenty miles to the east uv this bluff. I ]
was arter a big moose. They was plenty then, t
I reckon the trappers I camped with was eena- i
most ten miles frum me. I had started out ar- t
ly one morning to bag some otter, bdt drift
wood had come down tha Brazo in sich heaps <
that night that seven out o’nine uv my traps ,
had clinched a durned log instead uv ot au ot- ,
ter’s carkiss. I vow you’d uv larfed to see me j
dartin’ round among ’em pullin’ out timber s
bits and cussin’ the blamed luck. Arter peel
in’ two harnsome pelts, I took up my rifle and i
started up the creek, and soon tell on a fresh ]
moose trail, which I kept for more than three (
hours. At last I lost it, and arter much hunt- ,
in’ gin it up, and soon found out that the trail ,
warn’t only lost, but myself. ’Twar an ever- j
lastin’ bad scrape, sich as I had never had an .
idee on. The creek was low, but the bottom ,
was jist like putty. The woods were full of i
unfeelm’ thorn and prickly pear bushes, the
ground thick with stunted cactuses. Over
these I stumbled, fust one way, then the other.
The grass heads was up to my shoulders. My
sarkumstances was orful. I vow, if I had been
sent thar to kill skeeters, I could have made
my fortin at it, for thar was tons uv ’em round
me on every side, and actilly every Skeeter was
bigger’n piggins, ’Twas a onnghteous diffi
kilty.”
“So it was, Brunt; but how did you get
out ?” was my inquiry, as the hunter paused.
“Arter awhile I made out to reach hard sar
face, though not till two hours arter sundown.
I knew thur was Injina ’tween the creek and
Saline Lake, ’bout ten miles nor’west; so, reck
nin’ by the Pole Star, I started out through tho
timber patch. Suddingly I heard a curous
howl, shriller than creashin, a little ahead uv
me. I had lamed the tune afore, and knew it
to be a painter cat about to spring upon some
kind uv game. I kinder felt ’twas me, so I
looked round a bit. Jest then I heard the wail
uv a human critter quite near. My narves was
touched. Several tall trees were before me,
and when the yell come agin, I made out the
pesky critter right a front uv me, on tho lower
limb uv a big hickory, and on the ground under
it an Injin gal, with her hands up to keep the
varmint orf. Looking for the dark spot atween
tho critter’s eyes, I cracked away. The dum
critter gin one yell, the gal another, and for a
minute I thort I’d shot ’em both ; but I hadn’t,
for when I began to pay my respecks to the
kicking painter cat on the ground, I felt the
Injin gal a huggin’ me like blazes, and soon
she was a movin’ desprit to lead me out from
the timber patch. In less than half an hour
she reached the wigwams uv her tribe, when
the hull gang set up sich a hootin’ I was eena
most skeert. The big Injins kindled a fire,
and whirled round me and it like tarnal fools.
Tho durned old squaws patted me all over. I
reckoned’twas life or death, roasted or hugged
out uv existence. At the eend on it the old
chief, the gal’a father, come up to me and
handed mo his pipe, which was the signal to
the redskins to stop—his way uv fellin' me he
was glad I’d saved his darter from the ”
i “ Now for the ravine—now for Bayard 1”
I shouted Molbon, as we at this moment came
up with the party, who had now reached the
level yet somewhat rolling bottom land at the
• base of the table cliff, down whose rough side
f we had safely descended.
; I His call broke short the story of Brunt, but
tho desire to find our lost companion was onr
earnest hope. All else v. forgottcu when ac
tion was needed; there, oro we rallied, and at
the signal from the bugle of Karl Kill', galloped
swiftly on toward the point where the guide
hoped to catch some clue to the discovery of
Bayard.
The way before us was quite sandy, with
here and there a cluster of mesquit grass, so
much loved by our weary horses. The grass
plots previously found had given them little or
no good fodder, it having been quite coarse and
sedgy, for which our animals had no hunger,
and evinced no inclination to eat. From ap
pearances, the band of Wechias who had stolen
several of our best steeds a few days before had
here given line to their horses, not ours, for
they had left the cut of their teeth visible on
the mesquit. The wild horse bites loosely;
the horse of the settlement cuts the grasses
close down. To the hhntor the difference is
plain. As we drew near these patches our
horses thrust their heads down to the short,
thick grass, and in spite of our urging, would
not move on. Like hungry wolves, they fed on
the dainty before them.
“By Delshiber 1 this ere’s curous. The tar
nal hosses act more like hyenas than edicated
quadrupeds,” exclaimed Raymon to his horse,
as it stopped full short and began to feed. But
persuasion was of no use—go they would not.
We drove home tiie spur to no purpose. But
the prairie horse is a quick grazer, and in a
short time, when the patch became well nib
bled, they started off at our glad command.
In about two hours from the start we had
reached the spot where signs of Bayard were
hoped for by tne guide, and from tho base of
the rugged cliff gazed upward. Its sides were
thickly covered with gums, haws and black
jacks, and seemed to be a widespread chapar
ral. At our feet rippled among the rocks and
underbrush a mountain stream, whose waters
danced away to join the Colorado, there to min
gle its pure waters with the Rio San Saba.
Here we loft our tired horses, and for three
long hours hunted tho steeps in vain for our
missing companion. No trace could be found.
The thickets gave no answer. Why should
they ? They knew nothing.
“May buen I Que le pirec de es ? What do
you think of that ?” suddenly shouted Melbon,
as Kiff’s bugle unexpectedly broke the stillness
from a point some distance from us. We made
the guide no reply, but hurried on.
As quick as possible ws reached a dark clus
ter of pines, and beneath them, discovered
Karl Kiff and Raymon bending over the dead
body of a Wechia warrior.
“ Arter all thar’s no Bayard, boys,” said Karl
solemnly, as we drew near.
“By Delshiber ’tis orful curious,” muttered
Raymon, continuing.
“Natte must ov scaped. Brunt this ere’s
queer; here’s the tarnal Injin what stole our
hosses, dead as a last year’s corn-stalk; he
can’t answer for’t now,” and the hunter kicked
the body contemptuously.
“Very strange, very strange, indeed. Weil
we have done our best, we have looked above
and below. Bayard has escaped, boys, or he
would be here ; ho has started alone to regain
our lost horses; this dead Wechia, tells the
story.”
Saying this, Melbon turned away and moved
down the mountain.
“ I vow the sarkamstances are darned ou’rus;
fate uv Injin ort to be. I kinder hope Bay
ard’s out on’t, though,” exclaimed Brunt in his
peculiar way.
Tho Wechia warrior was the same Indian wo
had several times seen prowling near our
camp fires ; he was undoubtedly in some way
connected with tho disappearance of our valua
ble horses, also with the absence of Bayard.
We were at a loss how to act; but the decision
came—regain our horses below and move on.
I was the last one to leave the side of the dead
Wechia; as I did so, I stooped down, and took
the wampum from his neck, and secured it in
my belt, as a memento of Bayard’s struggle for
our good. I soon overtook the hunters. When •
we reached the valley at the mountain’s base, ;
Melbon had already unhampered our horses,
and at once gave the command to “move on,” ,
as we sprang into our saddles. The day was ;
running rapidly away. We were in an uncer- ,
tain country, our spare horses wore with our ■
extra provisions at the chaparral, on the tabla ;
lands above. To reach the picket before dark, <
we pushed on as fast as the ground allowed, ]
aware that should aught occur to prevent, our ;
situation would be desperate. Wo had but lit
tle ammunition with us, and not a morsel of ■
provisions; all had been left at the distant ,
cluster. If secured by our enemies, starvation ,
or massacre—our lot beyond a doubt; there
fore our haste when the search for Bayard had
ended. Our torbodings were, however, base- ■
less, for when we had regained the chaparral i
all was found as secure as we had left it, and 1
our staked animals were quietly at rest under i
the thick and yellow jack and haw trees. Re- ;
arranging our luggage on the backs of our j
fresh horses, we mounted again, and at a swilt ;
gallop soon left behind us the broken Colorado ,
Hills. After a fast ride of nearly an hour, just
as the sun descended behind some low hills to
tho westward, we entered a canon, which, per
haps, it may be as well to describe as a name i
given to a passage between mountains of lime- ,
stone formation, through which rivers, the
union of highland streams, cut gradually chan- :
nels and leave on either side rounded valleys j
full of rocky fragments, the debris of centuries; ,
or perpendicular cliffs, which often so far over- 1
hang the canon as to nearly arch out the blue ]
sky above, shadowing the stream below. The >
table rocks beneath our horses’ feet were quite ,
slippery, therefore, at a slow pace we moved
on, with every caution. Over our heads im- i
men He rocks appeared ready to fail down upon
us, yet without doubt they had thus been sus- ,
pended for a thousand years. i
It was twilight before we reached the oppo- i
site side of the canon, but with much pleasure i
we there discovered a vast prairie stretching j
out far to the north and westward to the Saline, i
When the moon came up above the broken ]
hills, eastward, we saw distinctly the tall .
grassy plain in all its beauty with scattered J
Clumps of haw trees and oak openings at long
intervals. ]
A good supply of pure water had been se- i
cured, and ow a level plat, worn and weary, we >
iastenod our horses, with liberty to nibble at ;
the rank grasses, kindled our camp fire on the
stump of a black jack with its dry*limbs, pre- ,
pared a rough, but wholesome meal; but as we j
circled the cheering fire a sombre thought si- ]
lenced the usual pleasures of our camp— where
was Bayard, ? Where ?—was the echo answer, i
That night we spread our blankets on the ,
prairie bottom and strove to rest. j
In the midst of danger, sleep drives fear, |
prostrates misgivings. Man and beast fre- ]
quently nestle on the edge of measureless ]
chasms. Rest is wealth, a treasure trove a forti- (
fication to the weary; danger becomes a ’
shadow; in slumber the shadow vanishes—we ,
slept, j
Ilay in a soft doze—how long I know not;
suddenly the enchantment broke, the heavy ,
thundering of approaching hoofs aroused us.
In a moment every member of our party was ]
on his feet and ready to act if danger presented ,
itself in any form, each man held his rifle firm.
Mel bon had refused to sleep, therefore had ,
been left awake, as our sentinel. In this mo- ■
ment of danger a new trouble, a keen misfor- ,
tune rushed upon our senses— Melbon was :
gone ; nowhere to be found—a whirlwind, then ]
a tornado; danger became misfortune. Had
we entered the whirl of a maelstrom, or were
wo pricked by the sands of an avalanche ?
Bayard—Melbon—friend, guide. The heart,
the eyes of our expedition. The prairie was
not a philanthropist—the darkness full of
stings.
Our fire had gone out; the moon had drop
ped beyond the mountains, westward; the
square of Pegasus, near the horizon; Algenib
and Alpherat were just above the Colorado
hills. The bugle of Karl Kiff brought no an
swer. We prepared for the worst.
Forming a circle, we waited for the unseen
foe. Gradually the tumult subsided. Brunt
had strode out into the darkness to reconnoi
tre. He soon returned, and in a few words
solved the cause of our alarm. By good for
tune wo had escaped the scalping-knives of a
band of Wechias. Brunt had hardly done
speaking before a milder echo of hoofs sounded
southward, and ere we could fix for the new
danger, into the chaparral rushed our lost
steeds, and began at once to make themselves
at home among our picketed and hampered
horses. The bugle of Kiff had reached the
practised ears of the brutes. That they had
escaped was evident, for skin lines dangled
from their necks. The event gave us encour
agement. But where was Bayard ?—Melbon
came not.
Raymon gave it as his opinion that Bayard
was in some way the cause of our guide’s mys
terious disappearance; yet ho could not fathom
his reason for not giving us warning of his in
tended departure. We did our utmost to feel
satisfied, to let the problem of events solve it
self ; but words of dissatisfaction escaped the
lips of all except those of Will Brunt. He was
wordless. Tho old hunter reasoned with si
lence ; seared by adventures, he had learned to
wait—hope paralleled chance; confidence mated
reliance—the combination bridged doubt.
Brunt’s manner gave us the possible. It was
foolish to think of going in quest of the guide ;
therefore, after hampering our self-returning
animals, who evinced many signs of pleasure
at being under our protection once more, we
again laid down to sleep, while Brunt, who had
refused additional sleep, remained up as our
guard and sentinel.
At the very moment we had reached the
boundary line between sound sleep and wake
fulness, a sharp alarm from Brunt, startled us
into wakefulness.
“Upl thar’s inimiesl Hush!” distinctly
whispered the old guide.
“Histl” came the snake-like utterance of
Kiff, as he moved out into the darkness upon
his hands and knees, to soon disappear amid
the tall grass. He had not been gone but a
few moments when he again reappeared, and
close behind him followed two strangers. As
they neared us, we recognized the first as Mel
bon, the second as an Indian warrior. Ere we
could express our joy at his safe return, he ex
claimed : “Bayard’sfound I"
“Ivow the diffikiltyis solved; ’spected it
; when thur hoses cum,” quietly murmured
1 Brunt, eyeing the young Indian.
> “ The earnestness of all was visible. If Bay-
ard was found, where was he? Was he dead
’ or alive ? Each member of our party, as he
> gathered closer about tha returned Melbon,
> shaped anxiety into questions. He thus an-
> swered:
) “Three hours ago, as I was standing guard
as you all slept, I saw in the moonlight an ob
t jcct moving toward us put in the tall grass
NEW YORK DISPATCH.
■ At first I thought it was an Indian scout; hoped
it might p-.ovc ill-' r-.surn of Bayard. As the
' object drew nearer, I round I was mistaken.
As the stranger gradually advanced, fearing
treachery, I prepared to fire, when a hand was
raised, and the or friendship given me.
In an instant I lowered my rifle and hurried
away from the slumbering camp fire, to
meet the unknown. Soon, much to my sur
prise, 1 discovered that the intruder was an
unarmed Indian girl alone on the pampas,
hemmed in by danger and night.”
“Using the Kiowa dialect, I spoke to her, and
at once gained an answer. In short, quick
sentences she told me that the Kiowas and
Wechias had had a terrible battle on the previ
ous day. That the braves of her father had
been victorious, and among the Wechia cap
tives her people had found a white cap
tive ”
“ Bayard 1” exclaimed several listeners.
“ Hist and larn,” broke out Karl Kiff, ner
vously, as Melbon continued.
“ Before the Kiowas had time given them to
liberate the pale face, the Wechias in double
numbers returned again and a terrible encoun
ter ensued maty of her people had been slam,
their lodges burned, and her father, with many
more, driven to the mountains for safety. The
pale face had bien recaptured and carrie d off
by the Wechias, but in the midst of the battle,
he had told her of his people, and requested
her to find them.”
.“By Delshiber,” muttered Raymon.
“As soon as her safety of movement per
mitted, she started over protected by the
darkness, and the accidental return of our
horses, and the faint echoes of Karl’s bugle
which she had heard, had guided her at last
into our camp. Her story was easy to under
stand, I felt that to doubt her word was to be
dishonest, I resolved to rescue Bayard alone,
aided by the noble maiden.
“‘Comel’ said she; ‘white brave, trust
Nannaeka, Kiowa squaw, never lie. Nannaeka
tell true ; white mau come save paio face ; We
ohia’s trail fresh; save young brave ; stake
soon ready.’
“At those words I hesitated no longer, but
gave the brave girl to understand that I would
follow her. Hardly had we started out when
the Wechia war party, on swift horses, rushed
by us toward the Pecos branches. On the
back of one of their horses I saw a white man,
bound hand and foot; it was Bayard.”
“‘ By Delshiber, the he divils eenamost
tramped us into their bottom,” exclaimed Ray
mon, unable to keep down his feelings of inter
est, unmindful of his interruption, Melbon
continued:
“If the moon was low down the trail was
fresh, the prairie grass was much trampled to
the bottom, and with positive realization that
Bayard was in danger, I strode on after the
Wechia band as fast as I could under the cir
cumstances. Nannaeka rushed on ever in my
advance; weariness was unknown to her youth
ful limbs ; like a bird she seemed to skip over
the prairie.
“In one hour we came up'with the savages ;
they had kindled a fire, and were holding a
council with great solemnity over the pale and
wounded Bayard. He was bound hand and
foot against a dead tree, while about him sev
eral Wechia warriors were piling up dry grass
and the dead branches of hickory and pine. No
time was to be lost. What to do with such
terrible odds against mo I knew not; to save
him or die in the attempt, I had resolved to
venture. While thus engaged, Nannaeka
calmly touched me on the shoulder, and in a
low voice said:
“Mo save pale face brave; help Nannaeka ;
Igo.’ And she started away from me.
“Such heroism, such bravery touched me
keenly. I refused to let her go thus alone into
the fangs of destruction. Seeing my determi
nation to follow her she whispered:
“ ‘Quick —come.’
“ Like a panther she crept toward the tree
where Bayard was bound, and expecting soon
to suffer a death most horrible. The wind was
blowing very strong in our faces, therefore,
when the dry mesquit broke under us, the
sound did not reach the quick oars of the sav
ages, nor the harsh crump of the dry sedge
alarm them. Feeling secure, jubilant over
the defeat of the Kiowas, the Wechias pre
§ared to celebrate their victory in the war
ance round the burning pale face, therefore
hurried on the preparations for the savage car
nival.
“ Close behind Nannaeka I crept on. She
would not let mo go before her. In half circle
course we neared the fatal tree—crawled up
even beneath its very branches, unseen, un
heard. The uncivilized were at play with civ
ilization. The poison of the upas struggled
with the venom of the tarantula. The dead tree,
if in darkness, felt a sunbeam, shook its dry
branches in the wind, which in turn hurled
them in fragments to the bottom as fuel for the
fire for the fire pile. They were immediately
grasped in the hands of the pile builders, ana
added to the death heap. The signal was given,
and with dry grass tho Indians bent down and
ignited the pile. Like a flash of powder the
flames kindled and darted upward about the
prisoner. At this terrible moment Nannaeka
darted forward, and with a sudden blow sev
ered the sapling withes that bound the pale
Bayard to the tree, then, with a flash-like
movement, she struck down with her keen
hatchet the three Wechias near her, who
seemed to fail beneath her vengeance without
uttering a single sound. Then, as I seized the
half-smothered Bayard from the scorching
fire, and threw him over my shoulder, she ex
claimed:
“ ‘Come 1’ and darted out into the darkness,
and bade me follow her.
“ The Wechias were confounded. The act was
so unexpected, so mysterious, that ere they
could overcome the enchantment, their super
stitious fear, enough to act, we had made cap
tive two fresh horses, and made our escape
from the startled tribe. Mounted on a spn-lted
steed, Nannaeka dashed over the prairie. The
horse I strode was willing, but double loaded,
yet with sharp and constant spurring soon put
miles behind us the defeated Wechias.
“ Reaching the mountains, by which time our
horses were well broken down, Nannaeka led me
to a curious cave among the dark rocks, where,
upon the moss-covered stones, Bayard was
made comfortable, and safe from all danger.”
“ Why (lid he leave us—how was he wound
ed?” asked several, as Melbon paused for a
moment, and motioned his silent companion to
his side.
“Bayard’s horse was among those stolen.
He had left us, and overtaken the Wechia chief
who had stolen it near the canon where we had
found tho dead warrior. In hie struggle with
the savage, he was wounded and the thief was
killed. As he lay overcome by the encounter
he was discovered' by some Kiowas and carried
to their wigwams. The rest I have told you.
Wnen we had made Bayard comfortable at tl>e
cave, Nannaeka again touched me with her
hand, saying:
“ ‘ Leave pale face brave here. Young hunt
er safe. Come.’
“ And as fresh as the winds of night, she
bade me follow her out into the darkness. My
story is ended. Here stands Nannaeka."
The sun had just began to paint the eastern
sky with the golden touches of May’s morn,
when the brave girl, with many blushes, re
ceived our hearttelt thanks in silepce. Each
member of onr party shook her warmly by the
hand, and kindly strove to convince us of our
joy.
As Will Brunt grasped the brave girl’s hand,
I saw him start. Nannaeka nervously grasped
his hand in both of hers, and, with a smile of
recognition, said:
“ Ganegahaga o-nan-nogi-is-ka (hunter of
the flint, the hickory), tor-yoh-ne (the wolf),
Nannaeka me Kiowa.”
“ I vow to natur’, Karl, the same gal I saved
from the painter cat 1 May the Lord bless the
skeeters of Ta-hcajameva creek 1 By the ever
lastin’, it’s useless to thank the gal; but for
savin’ Bayard I'll scalp every Wechia varmint
beyond the mountains, and bring ’em to ye,”
and as he pressed the soft hands of the brave
Nannaeka, tears rolled down his weather-beaten
cheeks.
“ Not alone, by a horn full. Will. I’m with
ye old man, on tire trail, by delshiber and the
everlasting. I alius hated Injins, but, Nannae
ka, you’s mor’n a oncivilized critter. I’m a Ki
owa. Blazes, gal, may the Lord bless ye 1” ex
claimed honest Raymon, in gratitude.
“Nannaeka’s people are the friends of the
white hunters. Let us go.”
At noon that day we each shook Bayard by
the hand, Three days later he was able to
mount and start witn us for the Wechia coun
try beyond the Saline. The scattered Kiowas
had joined us on the battle trail. At tne head
of our column rode Nannaeka, brave heart of
the Kiowas.
A very painful feeling has been
induced in Bristol, England, and its imme
diate neighborhood by the death of a widow
woman named Rachel Jones, who, after living
to an age considerably exceeding 100, and it is
believed 108 years, died on Sunday in the Bris
tol Royal Infirmary from the effects of an acci
dent which befell her on the previous Tuesday.
The old woman had been blessed with so good
a share of health that up to the time of the
mishap which resulted in her death she was
enabled to attend to her household and other
duties. She was in humble circumstances, and
resided in a small cottage on Horfield Com
mon, a country district, situated about two
miles from the city. Attached to her cottage
was a little garden, and her physical condition
may be conceived from the circumstance that
she worked at it herself, and kept it in a very
tidy state. On Tuesday the old lady cleaned up
her cottage, and having put together the spent
ashes she carried them out on to the common.
In removing them it is supposed that a spark
from the fire must have caught the skirt other
gown, for she had not been long out in the free
air before she perceived that she was on fire.
The poor old woman screamed and called for
assistance, and happily she was overheard by
her great-grandson, a man sixty years of age,
who ran to her assistance, and succeeded after
a time in extinguishing tho fire. Before he
could do so, however, the poor creature was
burned badly on the legs and about the body.
. She was put to bed in her cottage, and every
attention paid to her, and it was nopod at first
that she was getting better. On Thursday,
I however, she appeared worse, and her friends
‘ were advised to send her to Bristol to the Roy
al Infirmary, which they did; and she received
■ the attention of the medical staff and nursing
of that establishment. Her appetite kept up,
I and almost to the last her friends hoped to see
- her brought round again. On Saturday, how
ever, she got worse, and ea Sunday died.
WEARY.
Take me, Mother Earth, to thy cold breast,
And fold me there in everlasting rest I
The long day is o’er:
I’m weary, I would sleep;
But dee}), deep,
Never to waken more.
I have had joy and sorrow, I have proved
What life could give, have loved and been beloved;
I am sick, and heartsore,
And weary; let me sleep;
But deep, deep.
Never to waken more.
To thy dark chamber, Mother Earth, I come;
Prepare thy dreamless bed in my last home;
Shut down the marble door,
And leave me! Let me sleep;
But deep, deep,
Never to waken more.
POLICE UHLS.
Commissioners Smith, presided for the first time
since his appointment, on Wednesday at the trials
of policemen. Some of his decisions seemed incon
sistant, fining apparently very severely in some cases,
and dismissing complaints that others would have
referred to the Board.
HOW ARRESTS ARE MADE IN BROOKLYN.
Dingle, of the Forty-third Precinct, Brooklyn, had
a warrant given him to execute, but failed to do it
The man that should have been arrested, told the
officer that he would go to court when it suited him.
This seemed to be quite satisfactory to Dingle, for he
put the warrant in his pocket, and left after asking
if he wouldn’t please be in court next morning.
Next morning the prisoner “ warn’t” there, hence
the complaint.
Smith—What have you got to say ?
Dingle—l showed the man the warrant, and he said
he would come to court next day at two.
Sergeant—He did not come next day, and I told
Dingle’s relief to tell him to arrest the man and
bring him in.
Smith—What is a warrant given to you for ? (No
answer.) Not to serve ?
Dingle—l showed the warrant to the man.
Smith—What is a warrant given to you if not to ar
rest a man ? (No answer.) To show what you might
do?
Dingle—l arrested the man afterward, next day.
Sergeant—After the man had refused to come to
court, and knew that there was a warrant out for
him. Fined three days.
Any other commissioner would have referred this
to the Board, to vote on a dismissal from the depart
ment, and very properly, too. Here an officer gets
a warrant to arrest a citizen. The officer whose duty
it was to make the arrest merely shows the power
delegated to him, and says he will go next day when
he gets ready, the justice expecting the prisoner to
be brought before him in the morning. Chesterfield
could not have behaved more courteously if a war
rant had been placed in his hands. “My dear sir,”
he would say, ‘‘you see there is a warrant for your
arrest—consider yourself arrested; go home and go
to bed, and imagine yourself in the scation-house. I
will consider you my prisoner. Come to court to
morrow morning, if you please. Good morning,
sir.” But the prisoner carried this Chesterfield
courtesy too far; in fact run it into the ground by
imagining himself to be in court when he wasn’t
there. The $lO that Dingle was fined should bo
liquidated by this citizen that had these favors ex
tended to him. But it is not likely that he will see
this Chesterfield courtesy in that light.
FISHING FOR A VICTIM.
Smith, of the Forty-first Precinct, was charged
with clubbing citizen Pat Quinn, near Gold and Til
lary streets, Brooklyn. At the time of the clubbing,
Quinn believed he was drunk, so drunk that he didn’t
remember that he was disorderly. He was clubbed
on the head and he wanted to know why. And why
shouldn’t he ? He was what might be called in po
litical parlance, “ a sore head.” He knew nothing
of the thing itself, but he had a reminder of it every
time he attempted to scratch his pate—his digets, in
stead of coming across the cranium, struck a patch.
Mr. Quinn wanted a full explanation of the case by
outsiders. He got it. He was proven to be, when
sober, the most mild and peaceable man living; but
put him under the influence of liquor, and in a rough
and tumble fight he could whip the half of creation.
In this case he felt so ugly that he either lay down or
fell down, and his friends deserted him. When he
got on his feet he hit the officer. Citizens who wit
nessed the occurrence, said he deserved to be hit
long before he was. He stood on the track of a rail
way car, and spreading his arms, cried out, “ Come
on, Macduff.” The driver could not run over him;
hence the car had to stand still with its passengers.
When removed from the track he threw off his coat
and vest, and said he could lick any man in Gold
street. He belonged to an association that backed
him up. Captain Smith said when brought into the
station-house he traveled around his cell like a pan
ther for three hours, and would not have his head
dressed. Three doctors were in the station-house,
but none would venture in the cell to see him. He
had to be carted to the station-house by four officers,
and on the way there, he threw two of them out of
the cart. At the end of the case, the complaint was
dismissed.
SEEMED DRUNK.
Terrere, of the Forty-seventh Precinct, was charged
by Captain Stearns, of Hunter’s Point, with being
under the influence of liquor on the 25.ih of May
last, at the late great fire of Devoe’s Oil Works. The
fire broke out at 3 o’clock in the morning, and the
charge was made at a quarter past eight. What he
had taken did not affect the brain or his senses. He
knew what he was about perfectly well, but the
tongue slightly twisted when talking, and the knees
exchanged compliments. Captain Stearns said the
defendant was a good officer. He had been eighteen
months with him, and in that time no charges had
been made against him, except of a trivial character.
The officer, in defense, said that the day before he
had been up for twenty-four hours ; when the fire
broke out he had hardly gone to sleep, and was quite
worn out when he went to the fire. From three to
eight o’clock he stood facing the blazing heat, when
he became exhausted, and went to take a lunch,
which ho washed down with two glasses of ale.
When he returned to the fire a Are company, which
had a spite against him, threatened to throw him in
the river. This excited him very much, and he was
in this condition when the captain came up. The
case was dismissed.
BACKS OUT.
Citizen Wm. Clancey charged Officer Regan, of the
Nineteenth Precinct with clubbing him; but when
called he refused to be sworn.
Smith—Why won’t you swear? What did you
make this affidavit for ?
Clancy—l guess I was in the fault.
Smith—Has this officer settled with you ?
Clancy—No, sir; I made the complaint in a pas
sion.
Smith—You are satisfied that you were to blame
yourself, and that you have made no settlement of
the case ?
Clancy—That’s so. I live in Hunter’s Point, and I
came to make this statement so that there might be
no trouble afterward.
Smith—Well, then, if you won’t prosecute, I’ll have
to dismiss the complaint.
WALKING THE PLANK.
Barrett, of the Fourth Precinct, was charged with
walking with a citizen thirty minutes, and standing
at one point, talking to him twenty minutes.
Barrett—l admit the charge. The man I walked
with was a fireman on patrol duty, also in uniform.
I could not hinder ‘this man patroling with me.
When I dispersed a crowd of boys from the corner,
he stopped, too; and when I started to go on police
duty, he joined me.
Roundsman —The only police duty that I saw him
do was to send a drunken man over to the Seventh
Precinct.
Barrett—What I I said to the officer on the other
side of the street, “ Do you think that man is drunk ?”
He said, “ No.” I asked him if he would take him in
if he crossed the street (Catharine), and he said
“ No.” To satisfy myself 1 made the man walk on a
crack; and he walked as straight as a man could do
it. The man then said, “Who says I’m drunk?”
and then walked off about his business. Fined two
days.
HICCORY DICCORY DOCK.
McAllister, of the Eleventh Precinct, absented him
self without leave from the station-house. The
charge was admitted. In defense he said he was
sent down to the dock to do duty. When down at
the river he gave chase to a thief, and pursuing him
over some old hulks, he fell in the river. He got
such a sousing that he could not perform duty, and
deemed it proper to go dripping home and dry him
self. When he reached home he found sickness in
his family, and remained with them till the next day.
The case was referred to the Board.
A DETECTIVE IN BODILY TERROR.
Special detective Dunn, of the Sixth Ward, was
charged with making the illegal arrest of Citizen
Levy, who keeps a clothing store in the Bowery. On
the 24th of April two men entered the store to pur
chase a coat. They talked in a very obscene manner
in the store, and Levy pushed them out of the place.
Reynolds, the man that was pushed out of the store,
lifted a figure at the door to throw at Levy, when a
salesman laid Reynolds out before the figure could
cro on its mission. The knock-down flattened Rey
nolds on the pavement, and walking from the store
with a crowd, Dunn, in citizen’s clothes, mot him
and asked the cause of the difficulty. Reynolds
replied that Levy had assaulted him. Dunn
thereupon went into the store to make the ar
rest. After that the evidence was very conflicting.
The testimony was, that the first authority Dunn ex
hibited was his pistol; when asked for his authority,
other witnesses said he pulled his shield out of his
pocket and showed it; other evidence had it that
the shield was on the vest. Then when the evidence
came up on the question of rescuing Levy, the swear
ing was" divided. Levy remonstrated against being
taken to court without a warrant, so did an old man
aged about seventy. On the other hand, Dunn swore
that he was surrounded by about seven in the store
who wanted to rescue the prisoner, when he drew
his pistol, and Levy came quietly along. The strang
est part of the proceedings is to come. Two friends
followed Levy to court to go bail for him; in Baxter
street they met an officer, when Dunn said, arrest
that man, and he was arrested. Going on a little
further they met another policeman, when Dunn
said, arrest that other man, and he was arrested.
Thus the men who were going to court to go bail for
Levy, were arrested, taken to court and locked up.
When down in the Tombs they were asked what they
were there for, nobody could tell them except that
that they were fined $lO, or go on the Island for ten
days. They paid the $lO to an officer of the court,
were discharged, then came out and bailed Levy,
who was tried and acquitted. Dunn is evidently
doing the Sixth Ward up brown in making arrests
for misdemeanor that he does not see committed,
and then arresting the friends of the accused because
they venture to go to court to go bail for a prisoner,
evidently illegally arrested. Levy and his friends
may be Jews, but even in the Sixth Ward they should
have all the rights of Christians, The case was was
referred to the Board.
ADVICE TO ROUNDSMEN.
At the police trials on Friday Commissioner Smith
put the roundsmen through a regular course of
sprouts, as sporting men would say. He taught them
that they had duties, as well as patrolmen, to per
form. Of one roundsman, who charged a patrolman
with sitting on a stoop, he asked:
“ What did you say when you found him violating
the rules?”
Nothing, replied the roundsman.
Nothing!” said Mr. Smith, taking down his
glasses, and looking at the roundsman. “Don’t you
think it was your duty to have asked him why he
was sitting there? He might have been sick, or
there might have been some other cause that led him
to sit there. Don’t you think it is your duty to know
what excuse a man has to make for violating the
rules?
Officer—No; I did not think it necessary.
Mr. Smith —Some things may seem an apparent
violation of the rules, and yet the man may be doing
his duty.
The ease of Schufflen, of the Forty-fifth Precinct,
came under that category. Walking bis post after
• pay day, be slipped across the street (off his post) to
pay a debt. Commissioner Smith thought a policeman
that would travel twenty-five feet io pay his debts
should not be fined, neither was he, as cue complaint
was dismissed.
A QUEER DRUNK.
Culman, of the Nineteenth Precinct, was charged
with being ap. areutly under the influence of intoxi
cation. Nobody could swear he was, he looked like
it, that was all. Ho was sensible, hfia broatii did not
smell of liquor, but his knees were very shaky, so
much beyond his control that citizens gathered
around him, and proclaimed him drunk. The offi
duty for five hours, was then brought out on reserve,
cei’s excuse was that he was a new man; had been on
and stationed in the broiling sun. He claimed that
he was fatigued, but not drunk. The case was re
• ierred to the Board.
SHADOWING A LAMP LIGHT.
Lambrecht, of the Fifth Precinct, was charged by
Captain Petty with standing twenty minutes on a
corner talking to a citizen. Lambrecht swore that he
was shadowing two very suspicious characters. To
do it better he left his lamp on the opposite corner.
He claimed that Petty piped his lamp while he was
“piping” the suspicious characters. Quite a laugh
was caused by this defence, but it did not save Lam
brecht from being fined three days.
A SHORT MEMORY.
Riley, of the Forty-third Precinct, was called up to
answer for neglecting to cultivate his memory. A
little girl was lost, and the mother came to the sta
tion and reported the loss. Shortly after, a telegram
came from the Forty-first Precinct stating that the
child in question was there. Riley, on going out,
was told to call on the mother, who lived on his post,
and tell her where she could find it. Riley, instead
of doing that, says he forgot all about it. At nine in
the evening, the mother came to the station-house in
search of her child, and it was then that the sergeant
found that Riley had not conveyed his message. He
was fined throe days.
(MsMe of 'gnv
A triad that has just been held be
fore the Correctional Tribunal of Milan has ex
cited strong interest by the dramatic circum
stances disclosed, and at the same time gives a
strange idea of the degree to which individual
liberty may be violated in Italy. A married
woman, twenty-five years of age, bearing the
rather remarkable name of Caroline of Aragon,
and whose husband had abandoned her, be
came enamored of au Englishman named Ed
mund Howard, who Jived in Milan, and gave
lessons in English. His position in the Lom
bard capital seems to have been good, but he
abandoned it for her sake, and they traveled
together, and early in the present year wore at
Venice. While there her family, which for five
years had taken no notice of her, suddenly ap
plied to the Milan police to have her brought
back to her father’s house. She was arrested,
taken to Milan, and placed as a prisoner in her
father’s hands. As was shown by a note she
wrote to Howard, and which was read in court,
she was completely deprived of her personal
liberty, and prevented from going out. How
ard thereupon applied to the King’s Procurator,
who summoned the D’Aragonas, father and
daughter, to appear before him at noon on the
11th of February. It was the wedding day of
ouo of her brothers. By signs from her win
dow she contrived to inform Howard that she
was going out at noon, and when at that hour
she and her father got into a carriage, he ap
peared at the door, touched her on the arm,
and asked her where she was going. The de
tails of the tragical scene that ensued are well
given in a letter written by her to Howard’s
advocate, and by him laid before the tribunal.
Whatever her frailties, Caroline of Aragon is
evidently a clever and courageous woman. Her
attachment to Howard, she declares, originated
in her appreciation of his remarkable talents
and cultivated mind, and was confirmed and
strengthened by the many sacrifices he made
for her. They had much to struggle with and
much to endure, but still they lived happily to
gether until her arrest at Venice. She writes:
“I was cast into prison like a malefactor,
without knowing for what reason. In these
painful circumstances I had fresh proofs of
Howard’s attachment in the extraordinary ef
forts he made for my release. But the order
was irrevocable. I was forced to set out the
next morning, escorted by a functionary, who
made me over to the Milan police, who, appa
rently not knowing what to do with me, sent
me from one place to another, and finally to
San Vittore, accompanied by two policemen in
plain clothes, and thence, on the following day,
I was made over to my family. I will not dwell
upon the mental anguish occasioned me by
such treatment. To this hour I am unable to
comprehend by what right and in virtue of
what law the police interfered in the affair,
since it was not a case of restoring some runa
way minor to her family, I being of age and a
married woman, and five years absent from my
father’s house.”
She states that she was locked up in a room
and allowed to see no one. Unfortunately,
Howard misinterpreted the signal made from
her window, and instead of understanding that
at twelve the next day she was to be taken be
fore the Royal Procurator, he thought she pro
posed that he should meet her at the house
door to take her away from Milan. Staggered
at seeing her accompanied by her father, he
stood at the carriage window, and, in reply to
his inquiry, she told him where she was going
to be taken. A horrible scene ensued, which
she thus vividly describes : “ The words were
hardly spoken when my brother Luigi and his
father-in-law fell upon him, seized him furi
ously by the beard, and dragged him back un
der the gateway of the house. Then he was
assailed by a crowd of by-standers, and a tre
mendous struggle began. Howard, seeing
himself overwhelmed with insults and by a
number of his adversaries, drew a six-barreled
revolver from hie pocket, and warned his as
sailants to stand back or he would fire upon
them. Seeing that the warning was fruitless,
he fired three or four shots in the air, as I my
self saw, with no other object, I am profoundly
convinced, than to clear a space around him
and so rejoin me. All this was the work of a
moment. As if with a presentiment of what
was about to happen, I jumped out of the car
riage and hastened to join him, but, alas 1 too
late, for he already lay upon the ground,
bathed in his own blood. Stooping over him,
and just as he had spoken the words, “Je
meurs pour loi et je t’aime,” a kick given, I
cannot say by whom, forced his eye out of the
socket and It fell down over his cheek. I re
mained as one petrified. My hand clasped in
his, I swore in my heart to revenge his death,
when I was dragged away by main force, and
so sudden and violent was the impetus that
the poor victim was dragged with me for some
distance over the stones. Covered with his
blood and almost frantic, I was forced again
into the carriage and carried before the Royal
Procurator, to whom those fresh blood-stains
attested the deplorable fact that had just oc
curred.”
It appears that when Howard fired his re
volver m the air one of the D’Aragonas, either
from fright or in trying to get away, slipped
and fell. Howard thought he had killed him,
and, seized with despair, put his pistol to his
head and shot himself. He appeared in court
with a black bandage round his head, having
lost his right eye. The papers describe him as
a man of about thirty-six, of gentlemanly ap
pearance. When Carolina d’Aragon came
into court to give evidence, he advanced to
meet her, and they clasped hands with great
emotion. The tribunal acquitted him on the
charge of firing with malicious intent; he was
fined fifty francs for carrying the revolver, and
immediately released.
Ogden “ City,” a Mormon town, is
three miles from the new Pacific Railroad. A
local paper has just informed us that at that
spot, “Bishop Wells attends to the spiritual
wants af the multitude at an open bar on week
days, and expounds Mormon doctrines on Sun
day.” An irreverent patron of the week day
entertainments writes that “if his religion is
no purer than his whisky, he will never see the
promised land.” At Ogden station we char
tered a light wagon, a kind of packing-box on
wheels, and started immediately for Salt Lake
City, through the great valley. Near Salt Lake
City there are several hot and sulphur springs.
One of the former is so warm that it would be
impossible to bathe in it without a great chance
of getting boiled. There is no love lost be
tween the “ Gentile” population and the Mor
mons. The latter have ever opposed the pres
ence of the former in Utah, and have this last
winter formed an association which bids fair to
drive every outside trader from the spot. It is
modeled on the civil stores in London, and is
known as the “ Zion’s Co-operative Mercantile
Association.” There is a main central ware
house in Salt Lake City, and every petty shop
keeper among the elect must purchase his
goods from it, on pain of expulsion if he does
not. The Mormon consumer will get his goods
at 15 to 20 per cent, less cost than formerly,
and in a city where twenty-five cents is the
smaimst sum that any one will look at, whether
for blacking your boots or soiling you a villain
ous cigar, this is doubtless a boon to the com
munity. But the Gentile trader does not see
it in that fight. Each shop and store under
this new arrangement has a signboard with
the title of the new association—the All-seeing
Eye—painted on it, and above both the words,
“ Holiness to the Lord.” At the great “Taber
nacle,” rhe “egg-shell,” as it is irreverently
called, from the shape of its shingle roof, we
had a service, at which several missionaries
“ called” to travel in benighted Europe, bade
farewell to their brothers and sisters in the
faith. One of them amused me by stating that
Brigham Young had been “ more than a fa
ther” to him. Young acknowledges to sixty
four children. It seems a little hard on him
that he should be expected to father the whole
community. There were about 2,000 people
present; the building, closely packed, will hold
nearly 10,000. The construction of the “Tem
ple,” a separate building, of which we have
heard so much, is almost at a standstill; the
foundations alone are laid. When completed
it will be used exclusively for the performance
of Mormon rites, but not for their Sunday
gatherings. The marriages alone will keep it
well employed. At the great theatre there was
a “May-day festival” for the juvenile Mor
mons. The piece selected for their delectation
was that great nlay, “ Arrah-na-pogue.” The
stock company of the theatre is composed
mainly of amateurs who follow other employ
ments during the day. Two points will strike
any visitor. The first is, that a large propor
tion of the men, though fairly intelligent, have
very animal features, thick lips, and sensual
eyes. The second is, that the women are, so
cially., of a low grade. Few of them, in Wales
or Lancashire, Denmark or Sweden, or wher
ever else they hail from, occupied a better po
sition than domestic servants or laborers’
daughters
Su.nd.a7 Edition. June 13.
The Washingion Star says : “ The
building No. 414= Pennsylvania avenue, occu
pied for some time as the Congress clothing,
store, is now being pulled down to make room}
for extensive improvements. In taking down
some of the partitions to remove gas-pipe,
daylight was let in upon some secret wires,
which, being traced, were found to extendi
through the rooms of the whole upper portions
of the building, and, with other apparatus,
forming one of the most remarkable pieces of
machinery for gambling swindling ever expose#
to view. This machinery, as now laid bare,
shows that immense care and labor were be-*
stowed upon its invention and preparation.
The gambling-rooms were in the second story
front. Over them were two garret-rooms wittt
dormer windows. In the flooring of each of
these upper rooms a trap-door had been cut,
about six feet in length and three feet in width,
lhe trap being taken up shows an aperture
between the floor and the ceiling of the room
below of a size to accommodate the gambler’s
confederate; and a series of small perforations
m the ceiling afforded him a full view of tha
cards held by the players at the table in tha
room beneath. By his side was the end of a
thin wire, which, passing along under tha
flooring of the attic to the walls, ran down to
the flooring of the room below (playing upon!
nicely-adjusted pulleys at the angles), and so
on until it reached a point directly under the'
card-table. Here a very ingenious pedal ar*
rangement came into play, by which, with
springs of spiral wire, a triangular piece of iron
was made to work up through a minute aper
ture in the floor under the foot of the swindling
gambler. The victim in this operation, it will
be seen, had no show whatever. In following;
the course of the wires, it is noticed that ft
packing of soft wool had been placed at every
point where the working of the apparatus
would possibly make a noise calculated to warns
the victim. The operator of the machinery
was as silent as death, and not an indication'
appeared anywhere to give nim suspicion of
the network of villany in which he was en
trapped. The punctures in the ceiling, whicH
gave a view of the cards to the confederate
overhead, were screened from view by an or
namental oval of green figured papering, an#
the aperture in the floor under the card-table,
through which the spring played, was con*
cealed by the carpet.”
The following story, the accuracy
of which is vouched for by the narrator, can
not fail to be read with melancholy interest s
“A few day ago I stood by the side of a dying
girl; her age was 17, and this is her history j
She was the youngest child in a large family.
Her mother was the widow of a clerk in a city
bank, who died suddenly, leaving his wife and
children destitute. Her sisters went out as
governesses ; she remained at home until in
creasing want rendered it necessary for her,
too, to make her own living. She found em
ployment as a daily governess. She walked
each day four miles to and from her work, and
received a few shillings a week. All day long
she toiled, getting no food until she reached!
home in the evening. Who does not remem
ber the hot Summer of last year? Through;
the glare of that cloudless season this pooK
child starved on. The sun withered up flowed
and shrub, and also withered the brain of tha
daily governess. Day by day her strength
melted away; at last she broke down. Sha
could go no more to the daily lesson. Her cry
from morn to night, as she rocked to and fro,!
pressing her hands on her burning forehead,'
was, * Mother, mother, my brain is gone? Ona
day sho was found with one hand copying verses
from the Bible; with the other she had gashed
herself with a knife. It was then I first heard
of the case. I advised her mother to send heir
to a hospital for the insane. My advice waa
taken. I often went to inquire after her. E
found the place full of governesses, and all that
kindness could do seemed to be done for them.
She soon became a raving lanatic. One day 1’
took two of her sisters to see her. It was their;
first visit to the hospital, and they brought
some flowers to give the patient. They wera
just in time to see her die. In her cell, with an
angel smile on her young face, lay the littla
governess. She had fought the fight of life to,
its bitter end, and all was over now ; and with
a look as though she blessed the world which;
killed her, her young spirit passed away tor
God. There was a post-mortem, examination.,
Congestion of the brain was the cause of her
death—hard work, they said, the cause of tha
congestiijn. A little food, a little kind thought
fulness on the part of those who employed her,
might have saved her life and the broken heart
of her widowed mother.— Eng. Paper.
In Jackson, Miss,, a couple of well
known citizens, talented and well educated, oi
Falstaffian proportions, and fond of sack, lika
John of old, concluded to go on a fishing ex
cursion on Pearl river. They procured a ski#
and a big jug of whisky, etc., on a warm Juna
day. They fished, and drank, and slept, an#
the soothing influence of the whisky and tha
current carried them to Madisonville on tha
second day, where they found themselves with
out money to get home again. At this point
Dave said to his companion, “I have it.”,
Without further explanation he inquired fofl
the sheriff of the county, and was soon directed}
to his presence. The sheriff was now told that
they had escaped from the penitentiary at
Jackson; that they had had nothing to eat, an#
had come to him to give themselves up. At
this intelligence the sheriff harnessed up &
pair of horses, and thinking he would bo re
warded, took them back to Jackson, and went
to the keeper of the prison and told how he
came by his prisoners. His scorn and indigna
tion may be imagined at finding his story wag
received with a tremendous horse laugh—at
hearing others coming m address his two pris
oners familiarly. Smelling a very large mice,
he at last ended the interview by exclaiming?
that if the two were not a pair of jail birds they
deserved to be, and that if they ever came hi®
way and played such another d d rascally
trick upon him, it would not be to the peniten
tiary he would send them, but to the nearest
swinging limb.
The Japanese paper handkerchiefs
are assuredly comiug, if a cotemporary bo
right. The paper collar manufacture has now
been extended to less prominent but more im
portant garments of great strength and flexi<
iility, which can be sown with a machine, giving
seams almost as strong as a woven fabric. Tho
inventor has particularly applied it to the pro
duction of petticoats, which are either printed!
in imitation of the fashionable skirts of tha
day, or stamped out with open work of such
beauty and delicacy as no amount of labor with;
scissors and need.e could imitate. The marvel
is that these really beautiful productions can
be sold retail at fifteen cents each 1 Imitation’
cretonnes and chintzes for bed furniture ara
also made, a set costing retail about $1 50.
The felted material' “ is so flexible that a cur
tain may be twisted into a rope and shaken out
again, showing as little creasing as chintz sim
ilarly treated,” There are also table cloths em
bossed with designs of great beauty. This
felted paper may in the end have a serious in
fluence on the production of the woven fabrics
it is intended to displace. Imitation leather,
impermeable to water, is likewise made of it,
and produces a cheap and useful covering for
furniture, and even serves for shoes.
A citizen of Washington, whom wo
will call Mr. P , once rang at the door of tha
British Minister, and telling the servant that'
he had important business with his master,
was shown into an anto-room, where he was
soon joined by that official, when the following
dialogue took place:
“ May I ask, sir, what business it is that yotl
have with me?”
“ Certainly, sir. It .is this : in passing yotir
house I learned that you had a whist party
here to-night, and as I am remarkably fond of
the game, I thought I would just step in an#
see what are trumps.”
The sublime impudence of the thing so
amused the minister that he invited the in
truder into the room where the l guests wera
assembled, and introduced him as “ the most
impudent man in America.”
No young lady can be too well in
structed in anything which will affect the com
fort of a family. Whatever her position in society
she needs a practical knowledge of household
duties. She may be placed in such circum
stances that it will not bo necessary for her;
to perform much domestic labor; but on this
account she needs no loss knowledge than 18
she wero obliged to preside personally oven
the cooking-stove and pantry. Indeed, I hava
often thought that it is more difficult to direct,
others, and requires more experience, than toi
do the same work with our own hands. Moth
ers are frequently so nice and particular that
they do not like to give up any part of their,
care to their children. This is a great mistake
In their management, for they are often bur
dened with labor, and need relief. Children
should be early taught to make themselves use
frfl—to assist their parents in every way ins
their power, and to consider it a privilego to
do so.
The following from the life-of Ma
lone in reference to Pope and the beautiful!
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, shows how
equally matched they were in the weapons ofi
wit. The verses alluded to were tbo bitterest
and most atrocious ever addressed to a woman :
After Pope had written some bitter versos on
Ladv M. W. Montagu, he told a friend of hist
that ho should soon have ample revenge upon
her, for that he had set her down in black and!
white, and should soon publish what he had:
written. “Be so good as to tell the little gen-j
tieman,” was the reply, “ that I am not at all!
afraid of him ; for if ho sets me dewn in
and white, as he calls it, most assuredly I WhJ
have him set down in black and Hue."
Years ago, a Pennsylvania farmed
stabbed his young wife in a fit of drunken in
sanity, and fled to the West, supposing
a murderer. The woman recovered, and aftej
five years’ of solitary life, married again. Her
second husband died in a few months, and sha
also went West. There she met a prosperous
and wealthy merchant, was wooed and wedded*
and upon disrobing in the bridal chamber tha
bridegroom saw upon her neck the scar of that
wound ho himself had made, and recognized!
his wife of years before.
A Frenchman once returned tha
comnliment in English, by endeavoring to givai
the 'benediction in the following form: “May
the good Lord pickle you!” He meant pr«v
cerve.

xml | txt