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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, January 22, 1871, Image 6

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LETTING IN THE NEW YEAR.
Dy Markham Howard.
•< Ever alone!'* ahe murmured, sadly and slowly;
«« Alone, alone, through all the weary years 1
I cannot read to night the words of comfort,
My eyes have grown so dim with constant tears*
•' The Old Year, softly dying in the starshine,
Has brought no ease to long and bitter pain.
The Now Year, creeping toward ine from the
Cannot restore the loved and lost again.’*
• She rai c ed her eyes—so heavy ’mid their weeping—
With one long look into the starlit skies.
Distant and slow, the midnight bell was tolling.
And sleep at last fell on the tired eyes.
And in her dream she stood beside the easement,
And threw it open with an eager hand,
As the New Year, borne on its joyous chiming,
Flew with its gladdening promise through the
land.
Yes, she was there, amind the old, dear faces;
And loving hands were laid upon her own;
Bright words of love and. friendship unforgotten
• Were breathed once more in sweet, familiar tone.
« ♦ * * * * ♦
.And when they entered in the early morning,
The Heavenly sunshine crowned her sleeping
head;
Upon ihe open Book her hands lay gently;
Ard, looking down, with tearful eyes they read,
* And I will give you rest” O words of comfort!
** She hath the best New Year of all,” they said.
[ original.!
THE VAILED BRIDE.
BY TOM BROWN.
Kitty Avery lay wrapped in a eh awl on a
super anuated lounge in her father’s garret,
•deep in the mysteries of “ Consuello.”
Tne rich haze of sunset flooded ceiling and
rafters, and danced on the quivering cobwebs
overhead.
“Miss Kitty,” whispered Biddy, whose red
head appeared at the top of the open stairway
in ihe floor, “sure and laith’n an* Mr. Divelin
is after begging mo to ax ye to see him for one
live minit in the parlor, an’he eiz how as ye
needn’t fear the boss, as he seen him down the
street;” and Miss Biddy O’Flannegan gave a
downward lurch, and was gone in the twinkling
of an eye.
Kitty sprang up, flung down her book, and
followed on tip-toe. The parlor door was ajar,
and she enteied the darkened room noiselessly.
For an instant she saw no one, but the next
ft black mustached youth stepped from behind
the heavy window curtains.
“Kitty,” he whispered, “I .thought discre
tion the better part of valor, since the old gov
ernor promised me a dose of gunpowder the
next time I called, and so awaited my sweet
heart behind the scenes. Not that I dislike
the powder at all, only it might not agree with
me, you know. I paid that old Irish woman
fifty cents for telling you I was here.”
“ Oh, Harry, how could you run such a risk ?”
Almost sobbed Kitty. “ I’m afraid to have you
itay here a moment,” and she glanced fear
fully at the door and open window.
“Because, my little girl, it is my last at
tempt to make you elope. Kitty, this meeting
by stealth must cease. Either give me up for
ever, or promise to be my wife at once,” and
Harry threw a protecting arm about her.
“Decide at once whether or not you love me
enough to marry me to-night. A4 eleven
D’clock I will have* a carriage in waiting below
the house.”
By this time Kitty was sobbing on his neck,
and Mrs. Avery’s footsteps sounded on the
stairs.
■‘Yes, or no, Kitty?” he whispered, and she
felt the hand that held hers grow cold.
“Yes,” she answered, and Harry sprang
through the open window.
* * * # *
“Come to my arms, my angel,” exclaimed a
voice from the darkne s, and the next instant
a flash of lightning disclosed a tall youth, in a
shaggy coat, holding a horse with one hand,
while with the other he vainly endeavored to
keep open an umbrella, which the rain and
wind threatened every instant to demolish,
instantly a bundle of shawls fell .upon him,
and availed face Dressed his in silence.
“Mine at last I’ 1 exclaimed Harry, lifting the
aforesaid bundle into the carriage, and touch
ing up his impatient horse, who started off at
break-neck speed.
“Are you afraid?” cried he, catching the
jreins in one band' and throwing an arm around
tne muffled form, whicn he fancied trembled
beside him.
The vailed head shook “No;” and he stooped
to kiss the hidden face.
“Mercy! Why, have you been taking li
quor, Kitty?” exclaimed Harry, in amazement.
“To the divil wid ye,” answered the mali- :
ciously vailed Biddy, forgetting her role- in her
anger. “An’ may tho saints run away wid ye
if I’ve tasted liquor since McFmny’s wake.”
“To thunder with yod!” cried Harry, spring
ing out of the carriage.
“Och! ye ould heretic, ye’ll be burned yit
for your timpir,” called Biddy O’Elannegan,
picking up toe reins and turning the horse’s
head in tne direction of home; though upon
second thought, driving on to a grog-shop, to
invest fifty cents.
*“** * * *
At five minutes to eleven Kitty stood at the
crack of her bed-room door, wrapped for flight.
The lamp on the table was turned low, an ap
propriate letter, directed in a trembling hand
to her parents, lay upon the table; her canary
cage she held m one hand; Tabby, her Maltese
kitten, squirmed under her shawl; and last,
but not least, on her arm hung a bundle con
taining her Sunday bonnet and best dress, her
bronze slippers, and hair-ribbons, “ Lalla
Rookc,” “Innocents Abroad,” and “Bassini’s
Method for the Voice.”
She listened for some moments to ascertain
if the house was quiet, before attempting a
descent, but the thunder-storm without, pre
vented her from hearing. However, it was
dark below, and she ventured out. Down one ’
flight of stairs sho crept, heaving a sigh of re
lief as she passed her parents’ door, and began
the descent of the second, when lo I something
caught her m a mighty grasp. She screamed
in her fright; her mother appeared at her.
door with a light, and Kitty discovered herself
in her father’s custody.
“I’ve caught you, young lady,” sputtered
that old gentleman, striking an attitude before
Kitty, and viewing her storm-beaten appear
ance with a very red face, while Airs. Avery
sank onto the bed with a camphor-bottle to
her pale nose.
“ 1—I—” began Kitty, turning red, and then
white, and wondering whether the bird-cage,
and cat’s tail, which stuck out from under her
shawl, lashing furiously at its owner’s close
■quarters, looked very suspicious.
“Don’t attempt any equivocations!” ex
olaimqd Mr. Avery, jerking violently at his
dickey, while his-wife began to sway backward
and forward, muttering:
“To think that 1 should live to see this day,
and she a mere school-girl! Oh, my! oh, my!
I shall die, I know I shall 1”
“Now goto your room with me,” said Mr.
Avery, “ and 1 will see that you are put under
lock and key, and kept on bread and water
until you can learn to be satisfied with your
home ; and comfort yourself with the reflec
tion that Biddy lias gone, thickly vailed, to
take your place with that donkey.”
“Oh, father! yon are wicked and cruel!”
cried his daughter, bursting into tears. “ What
if he should marry her ?” And Kitty let go her
cat and bundle, in an agony of grief.
“Hope he will! Serve him right 1” muttered
Mr. Avery, marching bis daughter to her room.
“Now, miss, lay off your wrappings, and
think over your misdemeanors ; and remember
that I carry the key to your room in my pock
et I” And slapping his left pantaloon’s pocket
with a flourish of the .arm, he turned the key,
and departed.
Kitty fleard his slippered feet descending the
stairs, and throwing herself upon the bed, she
gave way to- her grief and indignation in a
flood of tears. But this did not last long. Sho
soon sat up, and, drying her eyes, comforted
herself with a few .lemon-drops from her
pocket, meanwhile watching the lightning
flashes brighten the room—the rain had ceased
to fail—and wondering where Harry was, and
if he had discovered the ruse.
Suddenly she hoard something tap her win
dow ; it sounded like a light pebble touching
the glass, and like a flash she sprang to it.
Softly raising the sash, she leaned far out in
the darkness and listened. Presently a flash
came, and she saw Harry in the garden below.
Fortunately, her parent’s room was situated
at the other end of the house, so she called,
softly:
“Harry, I’m locked up here. They sent
Biddy oil in my place.”
“ The mischief they did!” floated back in a
hoarse whisper.
“ Pa’s got the key to my room in his panta
loon’s pocket. Take off your shoes; go through
the milk-pantry window; put your hand
through the broken pane, and. turn the catch
which holds, it down. Wait a moment, here
are some matches,” and a box whizzed down.
“ Creep up to pa’s room—the door is always
open at night—and you can just crawl in and
4 nab’ his pants. Don’t try to get the key out
there. Quick, Harry, and we will be off yet.”
“Kitty, you’re an angel,” came wafted up
through the darkness, and he was gone.
Kitty crept to the door, and kneeling at the
keyhole, waited and listened, while she took off
her shoes.
Occasionally she ran to the window to
watch, but as time flew by, and no uproar be
low reached her ears, she grew quite tri
umphant, and her heart beat wildly with hope.
At last she heard a gentle footstep out
side her door. Up she sprang, with cheeks
scarlet and eyes ablaze ; the key turned softly,
slowly ; the door opened, on noiseless hinges,
and Kitty threw herself into the arms of Biddy,
smelling stronger than ever of gm!
Instantly disentangling herself, Kitty sprang
to the lamp, which she turned up bright.
“ Sure, an’ faith’n ‘ your mither tould me to
bring ye, unbeknownt to the boss, a dose of
4 choral * to make ye sleep, else a iaver wil be
on ye,” and Biddy set a bottle upon the table
with a very unsteady hand.
Kitty felt tempted to wring tho creature’s
neck, or at least to order her out of the room,
but her feminine sagacity conquered, and
pressing her head with one hand, she sobbed:
“Oh, Biddy! my head is almost bursting
With pain. Do creep down to the kitchen clos
et, and get mo the vinegar bottle- Here is a
dollar for you.*’
“Bustin’ wid pain, is it? Sure an’l’ll fitch
it.”
And too nearly to think of the
unfastened prisoner, she descended the stairs
on tip-toe.
An instant later Kitty followed, mot Harry
en the second landing, who was waiting impa
tiently some development of a suddenly
changed programme. They reached the door,
softly flew down the front stops, along the
street in thoir stocking feet, Kitty carrying her
shoes in her hand, while Harry’s rested on the
pantry window’s ill, and together reached a liv
ery stable. In five miputes they were dashing
along the country road to the next village,
where the happy but shoeless couple were
made one.
Of course, Kitty’s parents, after a little
storming, forgave their daughter’s disobedi
ence—well-regulated parents always do.
THE MmfflfflGE.
A LEGEND OF THE MINE.
BY G. R. ROBERTSON.
Not far from Munden, you are shown, even
to the present day, the remains of an old
baronial stronghold, which was formerly in
habited by Albrecht Von Haller, a knight 01
considerable renown, who, albeit of a disposi
tion valiant enough to win renown in the
“ tented field,” was possessed of a temper the
very reverse of amiable. It chanced one night,
during very stormy weather, that a little old
man, with a long, gray beard, solicited shelter
at the castle gate. Von Haller having re-con
noitred this singular figure through a loophole
in the porter's lodge, refused him admittance,
in a tone and manner which, to say the very
least, was anything but courteous.
“ As you please,” said the little old man ;
“but, certes, you might be a little less harsh
in your mode of speech. However, it matters
not now ; I will call you to account at a future
period.”
So saying, without more ado, the speaker,
apparently unmoved, continued, on bis jour
ney.
Von Haller paid no great attention at the
time to the words that had fallen from the
lips oi the traveler ; but when, at noon the fol
lowing day, he assumed his canopied seat at
.the state table in liis baronial hall, the mighty
ham stood untouched, the savory venison
ceased to steam, the I‘uddy wine-bubbles
blinked and died on the goblet’s gold-wrought
rim, for Irmfred, the only surviving pledge of
his dead wife, was waited for in vain. Hour
after hour passed, and the troubled knight was
driven to a state bordering on distraction at
the protracted absence of his darling Irmlred.
Sir Albrecht’s only child was a beautiful,
blooming girl of thirteen summers, who, as a
natural consequence, was the delight of her
only surviving parent. She had been accus
tomed to enjoy unfettered liberty, and ranged
about the mountains which surrounded her
paternal home, with that freshness of heart
and exuberance of spirit which is usually the
heritage of the young and pure-minded. Her
rambles were not usually of very long dura
tion ; but, on tho day in question, no Irmfred
returned to the castle. Sir Albrecht was su
premely wretched; he dispatched his serving
men in all directions to trace out the fugitive.
Finding himself incapable of enduring any
longer the state of agonizing suspense he had
endured for the last few hours, Albrecht Von
Haller set forth to seek her. He made inqui
ries of every person he chanced to meet with
in the course of his peregrinations; and at
length fell in with a young shepherd, who told
him that he had noticed a young girl, in the
cooler h ours of the morning, on the side of one
of the highest bills, employed in gathering
scarlet, yellow, and blue flowers, that variegate
its green grasses in brilliant multitudes. He
did not think anything of this, since ho had
been accustomed to see the beauteous Irmfred
culling simple and wild flowers. Later in the
day, however, he was surprised at observing- a
crowd of little men advance toward the knight’s
daughter, whom they carried away up the
craggy mountain, as easily as if they were
walking upon level ground.
“ Carry off my child 1 snatch me from my
darling Irmfred I” exclaimed Sir Albrecht, pale
with Lear, and with a perceptible tremor in his
voice. “ Who has had the temerity, the auda
city. to commit such an act ?”
Tne shepherd shook his head, and devoutly
crossed himself.
" Heaven forbid,’ he murmured, ‘"that those
whom I observed should have been the mis
chievous gnomes who inhabit the interior of
the mountain, and who are said to be so spite
ful to those who may be unfortunate enough
to incur their displeasure.”
Sir Albrecht instantly bethought him of the
little old man with the gray beard, who had
vainly sought shelter at the gates of his castle
on the previous night. An exclamation, half
of anguish and half of indignation, escaped
him, and he pointed his finger in the direction
of tne hill, on the very summit of which he be
held his pretty little Irmfred, who seemed to
stretch her arms out to him for help.
The wretched father immediately assembled
all his vassals, to see if there was not one
among them who could scramble up to the top
of the mountain. He offered an enormous re
ward, well knowing the superstitious dread all
had of those mysterious beings who were said
to live in and hover around the mountain.
The enormous sum offered to any ono who
might succeed in reaching tho apex of the
craggy hight, caused many to make the at
tempt, but none succeeded. The first fell and
broke his leg, another lost an eye, and a third,
when near the summit, was dashed from crag
to crag till he lay a lifule&s and mangled mass
at the bottom.
Sir Albrecht, despite these mishaps, was not
disposed to abandon the enterprise. The res
cue of his daughter was the wish nearest to his
heart. Ho ordered his retainers to prepare
their tools for cutting out a road in the moun
tain. His command was obeyed with the ut
most promptitude, for Irmfred was a general
favorite ; but the laborers had scarcely com
menced their work, when, from the pinnacles
of the mountain, there was launched upon
them such a multitude of stones, that tae.v
were compelled to beat a retreat without fur
ther hesitation, or perchance their lives would
have been sacrificed. With trembling hands
and pale faces, they presented themselves to
their chief, and unanimously declared that, as
they fled, they heard a voice proceeding, ap
parently, from the centre of tho mountain,
which pronounced distinctly these words :
“Tell your churlish, uncourteous master
the way in which we hqve returned his hospi
tality. Now get thee gone without more ado.”
Sir Albrecht, bit his lip with vexation, and
inwardly cursed the hour that saw him send'
the traveler from his gate.
“ It’s no manner of use attempting to cope
with .creatures of that sort,” observed one of
his vassals, who was looked up to by his com
rades as a sort of authority in these matters.
“We must endeavor to propitiate them,” ob
served the knight. “ And, to do this, it will be
necessary to make some atonement for the
past. Mercy on us, -to think that we should bo
reduced to this dire strait and extremity 1”
Sir Albrecht had recourse to all sorts of
stratagems for the recovery of his darling from
tho power of tho gnomes. According to the
superstition of the age, ho made more than
one vow, and distributed munificent largesses
to the monastic order’s, and to the poor. But
all was in vain; no one could give him good
counsel as to the means to be pursued; and
much less, after the frightful example that h&d
been made, durst ahybody offer hid assistance
in regaining poor Irmfred. Days, weeks,
months passed away in rapid succession, and
the wretched father had no other consolation
than the certainty that his child was still
alive; for his first look in the morning, and his
last look at nightfall, rested on the summits of
the hills which lay between Cassel and Mun
den ; on the highest of these he generally saw
his darling Irmfred. It was at these times
only that the gnomes, or elfin sprites, permit
ted her to be visible to the eyes of her discon
solate and wretched parent; they, however,
.took the utmost possible care of the little girl,
fondling her with the most affectionate ca
resses, and. endeavoring to win her young
heart by the most lavish gifts and indulgences.
In the most romantic and inviolate recesses of
their domain, they built her a beautiful pavil
ion, the walls of which were- composed of tlie
most magnificently variegated shells, and the
dome was of dazzling crystal. The softened
lustre of the sun beamed' upon its tesselated
marble pavement, and tall porphyrv pillars,
lightly curtained with pink and Dale green
silks, disclosed the groves and pastures of a
richly-planted garden, from whence soft and
drowsy zephyrs, swelling the dainty draperies,
watted a thousand odors around the rich, clus
tering ringlets of the charming captive, whoso
homo was made a palace of exquisite beauty.
Irmfred had a numerous suite of female at
tendants to wait upon her, who seemed to di
vine and anticipate her wishes ; they made for
her magnificent dresses, iftid gave 'her neck
laces of emerald, rubies, turquoise, and dia
mond. Her table was every day laden with
dainties, which were served up in'gold and sil
ver vessels of the most elaborate workman
ship, and all the attendants strove to outvie
each other in their attentions to their fair
charge. There was, in particular, a little old
woman, who was called by her companions
“Neitcb,” who distinguished herself in fond
ling and indulging the pretty Irmfred ; she
would often whisper in the ear of her young
charge:.
“Do not despair, my sweet one; you shall
have a dowry which a king’s daughter need
not disdain I”
Nevertheless, our heroine was a prisoner.
Four years had rolled away since she had been
carried off. Time works marvelous changes.
Transformed from a little, playful girl, Irm
fred had become a beautiful, blushing, grace
ful virgin—a prize for a Summer day’s tourna
ment.
Thus stood affairs when Sir Christoph Gart-‘
ner, a young and chivalrous knight, of an an
cient family in tho neighborhood, returned to
his ancestral homo af'ter.an absence of three or
four years, during which period he had won
honors in the field, and in the thickest of the
fight. His romantic mansion, weaving like a
garland its grove of beech trees, amid which
its gray spires and turrets might be discerned
from Von Haller’s battlements.
Sir Christoph bad no sooner learnt the afflic
| tion that hud befallen bis old neighbor, than he
NEW YORK DISPATCH.
resolved to attempt the rescue of Irmfred.
He at once sought her father, and was sur
prised and horrified to find bis old friend most
sadly altered. His hair and beard had grown
to an nnusual length ; his sunken eyes and
wrinkled visage denoted the uttermost extrem
ity of dejection and woe.
“ Christoph, my young friend and faithful
ally,” exclaimed Sir Albrecht, “I have been,
and still am, in a despairing state. In short,
I have not cared much how matters went with
me since the execrable sprites in yonder moun
tains have stolen my darling, my only child.
Now, a gleam of hope dawns upon me—a ray
of light breaks in upon the darkness. Chris
toph, the son of one of my dearest and oldest
friends, is again by my side; Christoph, whose
early years were passed within these walls.
He lias come,to aid me.”
“Ail that mortal man can do to rescue poor
Irmfred from the clutches of these creatures,
shall be done. Do not look so downcast ano
dejected, Sir Albrecht. I will release your
daughter, even if it be a>t the sacrifice of my
life.’"’
“You are noble and valiant, truo and faith
full” ejaculated Von Haller. “Heaven will
watch over yon.”
That very day, at sunset, Sir Christoph re
paired to the foot of the mountain lor tjje pur
pose of reconnoitering. He ruminated tor
some time on the untoward aspect of affaire,
when, much to bis surprise, he beheld an old
man. of a ridiculously small stature, advance
toward him.
“Give you good day, young gentleman,”
said the mannikin; “ happy to see you looking
so fresh and well. Doubtless you have heard
of the charming Irmfred, who dwells over the
way, on the top of the mountain. That pretty
damsel is my ward ; and, if you desire to woo
and win her, nothing is easier ; you have noth
ing to do but to find her.”
■‘And when found?” eagerly exclaimed ihe
knight.
“When found? Nothing can be plainer.
She shall be yours. I agree to give up the girl
to you, provided -the road to her dwelling does
not discourage you.”
After giving utterance to these words, the
malicious old dwarf disappeared with a loud,
mocking peal of laughter, and Sir Christoph
snook his sunny curls, and bit his closing lip
m pure vexation, at being so taunted and de
rided by the little old man.
“Find her out?” he said, looking wistfully
at the impracticable crags above him. “If I
had wings I might, perchance, fly to her who
so sorely needs assistance; but, alas 1 however
much 1 may yearn to climb tho mountain’s
steep, numberless insurmountable barriers
preclude the possibility of my accomplishing
my wishes.”
Upon the conclusion of this soliloquy, the
speaker felt a sharp rap on his shoulder, and
a shrill voice exclaimed : “Do not give way to
despair ; a true knight and faithful lover can
surmount every difficulty. For him there
should be no such word as ‘fail
Sir Christoph turned briskly round, and per
ceived a little old woman, whoso puckered fea
tures bore a strong family likeness to her
brother, the graybeard, except that their gen
eral expression was illumined with an air oi
benevolence which never shone over his crab
bed, spiteful physiognomy.
“ I have overheard yonr conversation with
my brother,” said the old lady. “He has had
a rare chuckle at your expense. What sayest
thou—shall we turn the laugh against mm?”
“Upon my word, I hardly know what reply
to make, madam,” answered tho knight.
“ Call me Neitch—that’s my name,” returned
his companion, sharply.
“ So be it, friend Neitch.”
“ Nothing can be better. I desire to befriend
you.”
Sir Christoph bowed very low at this last ob
servation.
“ That’s right—you are a conrtly gentleman.
It is easy enough to perceive that; and, doubt
less, you are a good lad to boot. Now listen to
me.”
“Assuredly, O Madame 1 mean, friend
Neitch, if you can teach me how to climb yon
der impassable rock—if you can aid me in res
cuing the gentle-
“Hold! Silence!” exclaimed the little old
woman. “ Let me speak. Your business is to
listen—to learn wisdqm from thy betters. It
is clear enough that you have more muscle m
your arm than brain in your head.”
The knight bowed again, and no doubt felt
much flattered ; he did hot, however, attempt
to interrupt the speaker.
“ Take this little silver hand-bell, and re
pair this night to the shadow hollows of the
Wesperthel. There thou wilt find an old mine,
which they have long since ceased to work.
At its entrance, a beech and a fir, two large
trees, interlace their thick boughs ; they will
serve to point out the place to thee. Enter the
mine without fear. When thou art within the
mine, ring the bell three times. My younger
brother inhabits the interior, and will no soon
er have heard the sound of the bell, than he
will be at thy side. The bell itself will be a
token that I have sent thee. Be discreet and
courageous, and I shall not have sent thee in
vain.”
With these words, the speaker vanished.
Sir Christoph repaired at nightfall to the
phantom-famed ravines of Munden. The day
was perfectly clouldless ; a waning moon, more
dismal than an eclipse, shed a dubious and
sickly light over the tranquil landscape. The
curling waters of the lihiue, tinged with the
sullen moonbeams, glared ghastly here and
there, between the thick trunks of the pines
and beech trees, whose dense foliage undu
lated over them like a funeral pall. Spectres
whose dim, misty visages wore an aspect of
menace, shot, tali and white, athwart the pitch
black billows in the distance. Nevertheless,
nothing daunted, the brave Sir Christoph per
severed, and at length succeeded in finding
the mine to which Ins friend Neitch had re
ferred. He entered, and had scarcely rung
the silver bell for a third time, when a little
man, attired in gray, and holding in his hand
a small lighted lamp, ascended from the bot
tom of the mine, and demanded the name and
business of his visitor. The knight promptly
complied. When he had finished his explana
tion, the gnome said, “My elder brother has
been bitterly affronted, it is true, by Sir Al
brecht ; but in my opinion, as well as that of
my sister Neitch, the four years’ penance he
has undergone is sufficient to have expiated
his offense. He has given you his promise, so
that if you can once reach Irmfred, she is as
securely yours. Now listen. Beturn to the
castle, and at daybreak be at the foot of the
mountain ; it shall not be my fault if you are
not seen at its summit.”
Upon this, Sir Christoph turned away from
the mouth of the mine, and hied him homeward.
Tho warder of the castle gave evidence of his
delight when he beheld his master’s well
known crest and dancing plumes, which were
revealed by the dazzling torchlight. He saw
his young lord enter the court-yard with a
firmer step and more cheery countenance than
he. had shown since his return ; while the old
priveleged nurse blessed herself at the keen
appetite her master displayed at 'the well
furnished table in his illuminated hall.
Sir Christoph himself, when he flung his
limbs to rest under the lofty tester of his
richly carved and draperied bed, could not
help wondering at the glow of hope he ex
perienced. Yet, in after days, he always de
clared that, during that night, whenever he
awoke, he heard violent bursts of half-stifled
laughter, sometimes outside the arched and
painted lattice, sometimes under tho armorial
shield upon the ihassive mantelpiece, and some
times in the old, quaint fireplace of his sleep
ing chamber.
Daybreak scarcely began to tinge the moun
tain tops when our young knight hastened at
once to the foot of the mountain, where, to his
unspeakable delight, he found a great ladder
composed of the stems and branches of beech
and pine trees. He could not but think that
this would conduct him to the retreat of the
charming Irmfred. •
All nature wore a hallowed smile around;
the broad disc of the sun began to tinge the
hill-tops with golden green ; a thousand birds
caroled from their green and shady citadels
hymns to the new-born day. Could it be pos
sible that beings adverse to man —wicked
sprites and malicious gnomes—could have
power at such a heavenly hour? Yet Sir
Christoph could not altogether divest himself
of certain misgivings as he climbed the first
five-and-twenty steps of the ladder. However,
as he proceeded in the long ascent, his spirits
grew lighter, and when he had reached about
midway, he fairly laughed aloud. A most por
tentous echo had this ill-timed merriment. No
longer half-stifled, as in the mine, but loud
and explosive, a burst of laughter drowned his
own, and he beheld the formidable gnome,
elder brother to his friend Neitch, dilated to a
gigantic size, and proportionately increased in
diabolical deformity, with the old hideous ex
pression of laughing malice swelling in every
lineament.
Bitterly Sir Christoph now regreted his ill
timed exultation.
“Ah ha!” shouted the gnome; “adventur
ous youth, hast thou come for thy bride ? Ver
ily, thou art an adept at climbing; but, per
chance, thy footing may give way; so loon to
it, my liiend.”
At tho same moment he kicked the ladder,
and Sir Christoph beheld every stave gradually
break' asunder ope by one. He heard them
clatter down the sides of the mountain. A
desperate spring placed him clear of the en
chanted ladder, but in a scarcely less perilous
position. By the sheer strength of his nervous
arms, he secured himself on a projecting crag,
over-matted witu tho gnarled roots of an old
pine tree.
While thus suspended between heaven and
earth, a thousand noises, as of exulting de
mons, fell upon his ears.
“Holy Virgin!” ejaculated the luckless
youth, “ have mercy on me, and save me from
these demons. Permit me to rescue that in
nocent and much-injured girl, and I vow to
build a chapel in thine honor, and endow it
with a quarter of thy revenue.”
The words had hardly escaped tho lips of
the speaker, when the hubbub in the air
ceased; he seemed to fall all at once into a de
lightful trance, and for a time sank into a state
of insensibility.
When he awoke, he found himself in Sir Al
brecht’s castle hall; while the first object that
his eye encountered was the well-known form
of his old friend. Von Haller, clasping him in
his arms, and hailing him as the champion and
bridegroom of his child. Sir Christoph was
delighted as his eyes encountered those of tho
beautiful Irmfred Von Haller, who, at that
time, presented an appearance which was both
charming and cu.Dtivu.tinc.
The sequel may be easily imagined. In a
short time after her return, Irmfred was led to
the altar by her devoted champion, the gallant
Sir Christoph.
THAT ~BOOK AGENT.
Unconsciously Obtrusive an A Uninten
tionally Offensive Utter and Contented
Ignorance—Mark Twain Brains Mini*
BY CARL BYNG (MARK. TWAIN).
He was a man of middle age, mild
and benevolent aspect, and withal dne of the
most eminently amiable and unconscious of
bores. In his least disagreeable phase, one of
his visitations^ as enough to reconcile its vic
tim to the minor annoyance of east winds and
smoky chimneys, or toothache ; but he was too
tranquilly sell-satisfied to fiiid that out, with
out aid, and so for years he traveled from
house to house, as unconsciously obtrusive
and unintentionally offensive as the measles or
any other mild epidemic. He was a blandly
imperturbable variety of “ the pestilence that
waiketh at noonday;” and a rude or ungracious
welcome wouldn’t disconcert him any more
than it would a brass-mounted revenue as
sessor.
This mollusk started in life as a peddler of
salve, and descended, by easy gradations,
through the stove-damper, window-catch,
washing fluid, and stencil plate eras that di
versify the downward career of most itinerant
venders. These pursuits were doubtless emi
nently calculated to bring his literary taste to
a high state of cultivation ; but, unhappily, he
had quite neglected to profit by his opportuni
ties. His utter and contented ignorance of lit
erature naturally suggested the splendid pos
sibilities that awaited him m the book trade ;
so when he found the stencil business too be
wildering to his intellect, he calmly and con
fidently dropped into book canvassing.
He was not a first rate judge of authors, and
bis literary discrimination seldom strayed be
yond the picture and binding, without being
ingloriously swamped. A flavor of the old
salve and washing fluid was always percepti
ble in nis discussion of books and authors. I
used to experience a melancholy pleasure in
persuading him to descant on the merits of
Shakspere’s “Black Crook,” or Munchausen’s
Dictionary, or Dickens on Logarithms, or R.
W. Emerson’s Nursery Tales. He could expa
tiate on those works, or any others that I reck
lessly suggested, just as lucidly and delight
fully as he could on those for which he was
canvassing ; more so, indeed, for be felt more
“fancy free” when there were no books around.
He often declared that when Shakspere wrote
another book, he should try and get the agen
cy, though he “had an idea that Shakspere
wasn’t quite a match for Headley or Smucker.”
He thought that children might like Emerson,
he was so plain and simple like; but grown
folks generally want solid literature, like “New
York by Gaslight,” or “A Thoilsand Things
Worth Knowing.”
I suppose it was his invincible and remorse
less assiduity that enabled him to subdue his
victims. He had away of pouring himself out,
in a ceaseless wish-wash of prepared platitudes
and canned twaddle, capable, I verily believe,
of wearying a bronze statue of William Pitt
into the purchase of Abbott’s “Napoleon.”
And the more Summer it took, the better he
liked to fight it out on that line. I once tried
to baffle him by passive endurance, but in the
sixth hour of his oration his enjoyment of its
superhuman eloquence had become so keen,
that I had to subscribe for an extra copy, be
fore he would consent to stop.
That ignominious failure of the Fabian pol
icy sealed my doom. I never recovered an
atom of confidence in my ability to stem the
tide of his tireless loquacity, and thereafter he
saw in me only a reliable market for subscrip
tion literature. He overwhelmed me with vol
ume after volume of pictorial imbecility and
pathos in gilt binding. My small capital was
gradually absorbed by the ruinous accumula
tion of “ Napoleon and his Marshals,” Every
body Else and his Marshals, Notorious Crimi
nals, Libels on the Presidents, Family Bibles
with Caricatures, wretched parodies on Uni
versal History, solemn burlesques of the Pa
triarchs, and other illustrated and absurd
trumpery imposed upon me by that remorse
less agent. My family was actually reduced to
the verge of want by the vampyre’s repeated
drafts upon me. I tried in vain to raise a little
money out of my books. The constable even
refused to levy on them for a grocer’s bill, and
returned the execution unsatisfied, because a
man’s library was exempt and “ho didn’t want
to git in no trap.” /
Presuming upon my utter thraldom, this
agent deliberately compelled me to buy a set
of Patent Office Reports, and I had to borrow
the money to pay for them. The next time he
called 1 cast myself, a haggard, careworn sup
pliant, at his feet, and implored him to let up
on me, in mercy to my suffering, starving fam
ily. 1 think the man’s sympathies were really
touched, for he shed some tears, and, in his
agitation, violently wiped his nose with the
row of pins in his coat cuff; but professional
zeal soon got the better of his weakness, and
opening his sluice, in the old, familiar strain,
he bpgan :
“ I’m a solicitor of subscriptions for the in
terestinest book ever published—The Life of
Brick Pomeroy—which, I venture to say, has
sold more ”
But I didn’t wait for him to weave his spell.
1 realized that an awful crisis was on hand,
and that oue of us must die immediately. So
I brained him. No, I didn’t exactly brain him,
but with an ax I clove him from crown to chin,
which was as near as I could come to braining
a book agent. Then I burned his body on a
funeral pyre, to build which I gladly contrib
uted my library, byway of retribution. His
very'corpse was so permeated with inveterate
zeal, that whenihe flames began to scorch its
extremities it lam its satchel, its specimen vol
ume, and its umbrella between its feet, and
opening its portfolio, invited me, in ghastly
but unintelligible pantomime, to “put my
name down for just one copy.”
I never experienced such a buoyant sense of
relief as when the potash man paid me for the
ashes oi that holocaust. Of course the public
wasn’t absurd enough to make any trouble
some inquiries about a missing book agent.
PARISIAN MORALS.
Licentious Literature Uiuler the
and the Republic.
(Paris Correspondence of Cincinnati Gazette.)
A detestable romance has reached its four
teenth edition in less than a year, and are you
aware through what. inspiration of genius?
Through a night-scene shown the reader
through the aid of a kev-hole. “If bis wife
had read this novel in his absence, he would
demand on his return the re-establishment of
divorce.”
Nothing indeed could be more nauseous and
disgusting than this common reading of
France. It furnishes another point ot resem
blance between the present situation here, and
that which we read of when we read the decline
and fall of ancient nations, imperial and re
publican. As 1 siro 1 tnoughv u’.lj along the
boulevards, and browse among tae book-suops,
lam constantly reminded o what I thought
among the ruins of Poinpeiu Now, as then,
here, as there, material
SPLENDOR AND VICIOUS INDULGENCE
flourish side by side. But here the latter has
been concealed under the iron hand of power.
Tho hideous monster which in the Second Em
pire was compelled to observe a certain amount
of reticence and secresy, is now stalking,
abroad under and fattening upon the “ liberty,
equality, and fraternity” of the present irre
proachable regime.
■ The most obscenely gross and grossly ob
scene books are exposed upon the boulevards
for sale, and cried by women and children on
the streets.
I MAY NOT EVEN GIVE THE TITLE OF THESE VILE
PUBLICATIONS,
but they cannot be left without mention by any
one who cares to be a faithful chronicler of the
isis and its causes. And I will say that in the
concoction of some of these caricatures and
pamphlets, the author has descended to the
very lowest depth of loathsome indecency. I
have seen caricatures, of the Empress, to-day,
which I am sure would not bo tolerated in the
streets of any city of Tilrkey or Hindostan. In
the smuttiest shop window of tho most unfre
quented streets of the most licentious cities of
Italy or Spain, you will see nothing so loath
some. vile, and brutal as the pictures I saw,
one hour ago, dealt out to merry purchasers
on the boulevard, by an equally merry young
woman of about eighteen years, and of a pret
ty, unblushing lace. I am determined to be
lieve that English-speaking Christendom could
not furnish even the street strumpet who could
hand such a picture as that to a man without a
recoil of nature, or a change qf complexion.
And this is
NOT AN EXCEPTIONAL SPECTACLE.
It is to be seen from one end to the other of
the boulevards, and of a dozen other of the
most frequented thoroughfares. The best
dressed men and women join the crowd that
pressed up to gaze long and with an admiring
relish upon those filthy creatures.
Books make their appearance m the shop
windows which heretofore were concealed un
der the shop-counters, and engravings, which
formerly were only known to the initiated, are
now .within the reach of the lads and lasses
that accompany the mamma or the servant. A
very respectable shopkeeper said to me :
“Let me show you how rapidly we are pro
gressing ;” and, pulling out a carle de visile,
he said : “ Look on the back of it. That is the
name of the most fastidious photographic es
tablishment in the city. Before the war, they
w'ould prosecute the man who charged them
with publishing such a picture, and even upon
cartes of the most ordinary departures from
decorum they could not put their name. Thon,
as to selling, any shop that should be caught
selling such a picture as this, would have been
closed, and its proprietot punished.”
The shop is one of many. Vice, under tho
empire, could go-just so far, and no farther.
NOW, VICE GOES ITS UTMOST LENGTHS.
It seeks out many inventions. It is served up
in plaster statuettes, and hawked about the
streets. It taxes all tho power of prurient in
genuity. In short, it would seem that all the
lascivious machinations for which this people
are distinguished, have come into play un
der the genial warmth of the bloodless revo
lution.
I saw Paris when it was a whited sepulchre.
I see it now, when the sepulchre is open to the
eye and nose. If it was always vile, although
under restraint, it is now utterly blatant, inso
lent, and hilarious in its vileness. And as vice
is promoted by publicity, it is growing apace
in Paris. Private vices increase with indul
gence', but public vices have a fearful power of
self-multiplication.
GIVE ME THE* TROUSERS,
BY CASTANOS.
The above demand makes me laugh even
now, though at least thirty years have inter
vened since I heard it. It was a beautiful
warm day in August when I had been engaged
in the valuation of land in a frontier township
that my road led me to a small clearing, occu
pied by an Irishman, his wife, and fourteen
children.
The father and the eldest boy were engaged
in shingling the newly erected log-house, and
were perched up on the roof laying “long”
shingles—that is, shingles two feet six inches
long, and fastened by withs and cross poles to
the rafters. They had no nails, and were com
pelled to resort to this plan instead. The
mother was cooking under a huge cedar tree
that grew close by, and variously combined
blankets, poles, and bark told plainly of the
short commons as to household furniture that
the family were suffering from.
The younger boys were almost naked; all
had shirts on, but only one, the eldest, had
trousers. I inquired my way to the next farm
house, where I wished to spend the night, but
was told that it was about two miles off, and
although there was a path plainly enough
marked for those who knew it, it would be
very difficult for me to follow it in the dusk of '
the approaching gloom. A night’s quarters
where I was were not inviting, and at that
establishment I question whether they had
much food to part with even for money. So I
determined to’ risk it and go on, but expressed
myself quite willing and able to pay a guide
who would show me the way.
The magic promise of money at once solved
the question of guide or none. A bright-eyed
little fellow, who had attentively heard all I
had to say, all at once cried out, “Give me the
trousers, Bill, and I will show the gentleman I”
Down came “ Bill” from the roof, and in a mo
ment divested himself of the pantaloons, which
the younger brother as quickly put on, and in
a shorter time than I have taken to write it,
declared himself quite ready.
I objected to the little fellow’s going so far on
foot, and returning in the dark, and expressed
my fears that he would be lost.
“Is it Jem would be lost, your honor ? Divil
a fear of it. The only bother will be for you to
keep up with him, the gossoon, the road, or
path, being soft in places.”
“Now, Jem, hurry back, unless ye are late
there,” said the mother, “ and if it’s late ye
are, ye can sleep wid Tom, and I’ll not expict
ye.”
‘‘Never fear, mother; I’ll be back,” says
Jem, and away he went, like a deer over logs
and swales, as light as a bird; and, truth to
tell, my horse could hardly keep Jem in sight.
He literally flew along, cutting off corners every
now and then, until I had more than once to
call him back, when he returned, laughing and
grinning, with a mouth full of ivory, that
looked as if the toothache would never trouble
him.
We arrived all safe, and directly he. called
out: “There’s Tim’s, your honor,” I halted,
and saw the clearing through the trees. My
guide announced his intention of returning,
notwithstanding my expressed desire that he
should share “ Tim’s” bed. No ; back he would
go. He would soon be homfe. His previous
exertions had hardly made him draw a long
breath. So I put my hand in my pocket, and
pulled out a couple of half dollars, and tossed
them to Jem. He caught them, and, not ex
pecting one quarter of that amount, said :
“An’ is this all for me, your honor?”
I said yes, and bid him good-night. Off went
Jem, shouting and whistling with joy, leaping
every now and then far higher over any impedi
ment in the road than was requisite, in his ex
treme joy. I looked after my little twelve-year
old guide, and thought I never had known a
dollar give so much real happiness before.
WINTER.
By B. W.
Still Winter I sweetly thy blessing, the snow,
Hushes the tardy tread,
As we pass the waiting ones, row by row,
The men and the women we used to know
In this thorp of the silent dead:
As we count together, in accents low,
The days and the years that are fled.
Daintily dight in opal and pearb
, Are porch, and window, and vane;
Winter's wild Gothic in every coign
And chink of the hoary fane 1
Right bravely it glowed in the staring sun
That was baffled and crimson at noon;
But with saintlier sheen will it stand serene
In the face of the placid moon.
White Winter 1 hiding the crumbs of decay
With a broad and gentle hand;
Streaking with silver the lichens gray,
Crystally crusting each plumy spray
Of the yews that solemnly stand
Musing, the seers! on that earlier day
When they were as reeds in the land.
Wild Winter! kind Winter I crowned by the bells,
Taat startle the frost drowsed birds
With the message glad watchers in hamlets and
dells,
Dwellers in palaces, hovels, and cells
Know well how to shape into words :
Good Will unto Man in the jubilance swells,
Peace thrills through the quivering chords 1
Sarcastic Declination. —The Phila
delphia Sunday Dispatch thus declines a story:
“ We have our private reasons for refusing
the story by ‘B. 8,,’ entitled ‘ William; or, The
Yearning of Two Hearts.’ Wo will explain
those reasons, if the author Will call at our
office, alone and unarmed, and without a dog,
but with an affidavit that he will not prosecute
in case assault and battery shall bo committed.
There are insults which even an editor cannot
submit to tamely. To prevent mistake, we
will say that wo wish to see the man who
wrote the tale beginning in this joyous man
ner :
‘■William McGrath-was a fretful young
butcher, who wore a high hat, with crape on it,
and had red morocco tops on his boots. He
was of nob'le and aristocratic mien, and the
owner of stall Number 46, in the market. He
had an oblivious uncle in the marine corps,
and his only, sister suffered strenuously from
strabismus; and yet William—heroic soul that
he was—bad connected himself with a hose
company, and his temperament tended decid
edly to" the bilious, notwithstanding the fact
that his dog was a double-nose terrier, with a
weakness tor beef, and a yellow spot on his
off-hind-leg. William McGrath also had one
favorite bald head, and he killed on Tuesdays
and Fridays. He was in love, and with a girl.
While yet in the very prime of his manhood,
with all the grace and beauty of youth upon
him, and beef selling at thirty-tive cents a
pound lor the good pieces, he gave his affec
tions to a young, woman who lived next door to
him.
“ • William, do you truly love mo ?’ she one
dav said,to him.
‘“With my whole heart,’ he said, ‘and
heart is now worth seventeen cents,’ &c., Ac.,
&c., &c.
“There—that is the story we mean! Dare
the fiend who wrote it reveal himself.?
The Old Fashioned' Mother.—
Thank God, some of ub have an old-fashioned
mother. Not a woman of the period, enamel
ed and painted, with her g>eat chignon, her
curls and bustle ; whose white jeweled hands
never have felt the clasp of baby fingers; but
a dear, old-fashioned, sweet-voiced mother,
with eyes in whose clear depths the love light
shone, and brown hair, just threaded with sil
ver, lying smooth upon her faded cheek. Those
dear hands, worn with toil, gently guided our
tottering steps in childhood, and smoothed our
pillow m sickness ; even reaching out to us in
yearning tenderness, when her sweet spirit was
baptized in the pearly spray ol the river.
Blessed is the memory of an old-fashioned
mother. It floats to us now, like the beautiful
perfume from some woodland blossoms. The
music of other voices may be lost, but the en
trancing memory of hers will’echo in our souls
forever. Other faces may fade away and be
iorgotien, but hers will shine on until the light
from heaven’s portals shall glorify our own.
When m the fitful parses of busy life our feet
wander back to the old homestead, and cross
ing the well-worn threshold, stand once more
in the low, quaint room, so hallowed by her
presence, how the feeling of childish innocence
and dependence comes over us, and wo kneel
down in the molten sunshine, streaming,
through the western window—just where long
years ago we knelt by our mother’s knee, lisp
ing “ Our Father.” How many times when the
tempter lures us on has the memory of those
sacred hours, that mother’s words, her faith
and prayers, saved us from plunging into the
deep abyss of sin. Years nave fihed great
drifts between her and us, but they have not
hidden from our sight the glory of her pure,
unselfish love. _____
An PLEASANT PREDICAMENT. The
Louisville (Kansas) Reporter says: A stock
raiser living near Wamego met with a miracu
lous escape from death. A few days ago, Mr.
M had an occasion to repair* the roof of a
building which he had built tor the protection
of his stock/ Climbing to the top of the build
ing, a distance of eighteen feet, he proceeded
to make necessary repairs, which wore aa>on
completed. As he was about to descend on
the side of the roof—it being somewhat slip
pery—ho lost his footing, and soon found him
self slipping over the edge of the roof, when,
suddenly, his corduroys catching on a spike
which chanced to be driven only part way in a
scantling, ho hung suspended between Heaven
and earth, feet and head down, and no person
within a mile of his cries for assistance. In
By B. W.
thje position he hung, wriggling like an angle
worm, with a determination of holding out as
long as possible, all this time endeavoring to
loosen himself, by either breaking the pike or
rending nis corduroys ; but spike or corduroys
would neither break nor rend, nor could he
get loose. There he was, hanging like a piece
of jerked buffalo meat; and there, probably,
he would have hung for days, had it not been
for a trained pony, which had .been taught to
come at his call. But another obstacle was in
the way here—pony was tired, as well as the
rider ; but, by continuous whistling and extra
ordinary coaxing, pony finally broke loose and
trotted to his master’s assistance, when the
unfortunate stock-raiser was enabled to get a
footing on the back of his pony, and raise a
stock of corduroy and human flesh from the
spike that had but a short time before held
him suspended firmly only fogr feet from the
precious soil of Wabaunsee county.
How to Serve a Ghost.-*- Joseph 1.,
Emperor of Germany, was a merry gentleman,
and as brave at heart as he was sturdy in frame.
He was a bosom triend of the elector of Saxony
—a royal scamp, whose bump of reverence
hardly equaled his love for the flesh. Joseph
was a good Catholic, and his friends of the
Church were in considerable fear lest the rak
ish elector should* lead him from the true
faith. They tried almost every device to break
the companionship between them, but all to
no purpose. Finally, a zealous Jesuit father
disguised himself in Satanic attire, and silently
entered the Emperors chamber late one dark
night. Clanking heavy links of chains, and
placing himself near the bed, where the dim
light from the solitary taper could fall upon
his figure, the mysterious visitor began
haranguing, in a sepulchral voice, the startled
Emperor:
“Renounce, O Emperor, thy intimacy with
the elector of Saxony, or prepare for eternal
damnation!”
The muscular magnate, not caring to be
bored with unearthly callers at such an un
seasonable hour, leaped from his couch, and,
catching up in his arms his phantom visitor,
launched him out of the window, saying :
“Return to purgatory, from whence you
came 1”
A broken thigh was his ghostship’s reward.
This story is well corroborated, although one
narrator, the Baron Poolinitz, claims that it
was not the Emperor, but his friend, the elec
tor, a man of herculean strength, who achieved
the feat.
David Todd’s Teapot. —David Todd
and his wife Anna are an unsophisticated pair
who reside in the town of Hardenbergh. They
had never seen a locomotive or a train of cars,
and so they made up their minds they would
go down to Sbandaken Centre, a distance of
nine miles, and see the wonderful iron horse.
Having arrived at the depot some little time in
advance of the train they awaited the coming
of the great wonder with impatient curiosity,
passing the time in sundry observations about
how it would look and what it would do, which
betrayed the freshness and greenness of a life
spent in the far distant wikis of Hardenbergh.
Soon the train was heard rumbling in the dis
tance. Mr. and Mrs. Todd, were on the qui
vine. “Here she comes,” shouted David.
“Look out for yourself Anna, and don’t you
get in the way of the tarnal critter.” Just
then the engine whistled down brakes and blew
off’ steam. David caught an idea and it hurt
him. “Anna,” he shouted “run, run, the tar
nal critter has busted her biler, and if we don’t
get out of the way we will get blowed to eter
nity.” Amid a chorus of laughter from the
hangers on at the depot they dashed around
the corner of the building, and sought safety
on the opposite side. As the whistle shrieked
louder, David yelled out “poo, poo ; here the
old tea-pot sing—she’s got a hole m her sure.”
Away they streaked it, coat tail and dress
skirts flying, until they were safely out of dan
ger. Since then the locomotive in Harden
bergh and Shandaken is known as “Todd’s
Teapot.”— Ulster Daily Gazette.
A Crab Wants to Go Home. —A
correspondent of the St. Louis Pioneer tells a
story about a woman of Stillwater, Minnesota,
who was troubled to such an extent by some
unknown disease, that her friends despaired of
her cure ; in fact, she was on the verge of the
grave, but all the while was longing to be car
ried to the sea-shore. At last, she was taken
there, but grew worse immediately. One
morning, jusr at sunrise, she exclaimed that if
she could only get to the sea she should re
cover. After trying in vain to dissuade her,
her friends carried her to the water, but,
after making a few steps into the surf, she
screamed, “Ohl I shall strangle I I’m chok
ing 1” and fell into convulsions. Suddenly she
clapped her hands to her mouth and cried:
“Oh 1 here it is ; .it has come up. I have it in
my hand. I’m well I” and, on looking into her
hand, her friends found there a soft-shell crab.
Then the lady recovered. “The theory fully
illustrated here,” says this veracious and philo
sophic correspondent, “ serves to show that
the intense longing of one of the most diminu
tive of the Crustacea family (sic) so affected
and controled the human brain as to cause—in
fact, compel—the restoration of the little vic
tim of man’s epicureanism to the home origin
ally intended for it by the laws of nature.” It
appears that the lady had swallowed the crab
while eating raw oysters.
Historical Comparison. —A writer
in the Gentleman’* Magazine (Eng.) makes
the following comparison between France and
England: Compare any date in French his
tory, during the last four or five hundred
years, with the same date in the history of
England, or in that of any nation that now
stands exalted, and it will be seen that France
was always moving in an unfortunate political
track. When King Charles IX. afood at the
window of the Louvre, with a fowung-pie.ee in
his hand, firing at stray Huguenots in the
street beiow, Queen Elizabeth was laying the
foundation of the modern greatness of En
gland, and help and encouragement to
Holland, struggling courageously against the
tyranny of Spain. Just then the dukedom of
Prussia was getting itself joined to the elect
orate of Brandenburg. Botn Great Britain and
the country of the Hohenzollerns were making
themselves strong by siding with the religion
of the future. Inthe year when England ex
pelled James 11., and welcomed the Prince of
Orange. Louis XIV. sent an army across the
Rhine, burnt half a dozen great German cities,
and so impoverished his own exchequer that
his nobles and clergy had to com their plate
into money. The cause in which France then
spent her wealth and blood was a failure ; .the
movement in England was the inauguration of
the birth of political liberty.
Death of a Miser—Giving Away
too Much Money Kills Him.— A correspond
ent of the Abingdon (Hl.) Democrat, writing
from Knoxville, thus relates the peculiar death
of a miser residing in the latter place, who was
reputed worth $20,000. “He had a nephew,”
says the correspondent, “a very worthy young
man, who was going out West to seek his for
tune. A few days before he was ready to leave
he went to the old uncle to sell himtome notes
of hand. The old man would not touch them,
but said, ‘ You have always been a good boy,
only a little too extravagant- I will make you
a little present before you leave.’ He drew a
check on the bank for $5, as he supposed, but
owing to his bad eyesight and worse penman
ship, it proved to be.ssoo. This unaccountable
act of benevolence soon became noised about
town, and, of course, soon came to the oars of
the miser. He rushed to the bank, and under
much excitement asked one of the bapk offi
cials what the amount of the check he had
given his nephew was. ‘Five hundred dol
lars,’said the clerk. ‘What!’ said the miser.
‘Five hundred dollars,’ said the clerk, produc
ing the check. After reading and trembling
in every muscle, he gave one long-drawn sigh,
and exclaimed, ‘My God! I am a ruined man,’
then sank down and died.” The question is,
who was the miser ?
Romantic Courtship and Marriage.
—Guizot’s courtship and marriage were sipgu
larly romantic. At the house of the editor of
a periodical for which Guizot wrote, he often
met a young lady named Pauline de Meuian,
who, like him, supported herself by her pen.
Mademoiselle de Meuian fell ill; she was the
main stay of her mother and sisters, and dur
ing her forced abstinence fronu literary labor,
the whole family were in danger of failing into
distress. One morning she received a long
paper in a disguised hand, but in precise imi
tation pf her own literary style, with a note
stating that while her illness continued arti
cles equally suited to the magazine on which
she was engaged would be forwarded to her.
When Mlle, de Meuian recovered her health,
she made every effort to discover her unknown
benefactor, but in vam. At length he present
ed himself; it was the shy, austere man xff let
ters whom she had met sq often at the editor’s
house ; and shortly afterward Mlle. Pauline de
Meuian became Madame Guizot.
A Dramatic Amazon. —ln the rec
ords of tremendous physical powers, it is found
that the fair sex have several worthy repre
, sentatives. One of the.most celebrated of
these was Mademoiselle Gauthier, a French
actress of the last century. To pick up one of
her sisters of the stage, in a sudden fit of an
ger, and toss her over the footlights iuto the
audience) was a not unfrequent trick with this
gentle creature, while to throw an insolent
suitor down a Hight of stairs was her chief joy.
She could roll up a piece of silver plate in her
fingers, and, placing a thick hickory-nut in the
palm of her band, could' grind the hard shell
into fragments by a single-grip. She is de
scribed as being a large and very handsome
woman, and one to whom the advantages of
many charms were tightened by several of the
higher feminine accomplishments, as she was
a beautiful miniature painter and a fine organ
ist. A disappointed love, aggravated no doubt
by the sad fact that she was unable to get her
hands upon the faithless swain and crack his
skull, drove her into a convent.
Toothache. —A correspondent gives
the following curious remedy : Put a piece of
quicklime as big as a walnut in a pint of water,
in a bottle. Clean the teeth with a little of it
every morning, rinsing the mouth with clean
water afterward. If the teeth are good, it will
preserve them and keep away toothache; if
the teeth are gone it will harden the gums so
that they will masticate crusts and all.
Sunday Edition. January 22.
Famous Sheep Turned into Pool
Mutton.— Among the sheep most famous fo>
the beauty of their wool, the Rambouillel
breed, though nearly worthless as mutton, hat
always been distinguished. Specimens were *
imported from Spam by the first Napoleon;
and on the farm established by Louis XVI. ii
Rambouillet, some thirty miles south of Parian
they were afterward carefully crossed and
reared until they reached a high point of per»
fection. Their wool was that known as merino
of a very fine quality, and for that reason they
commanded exceedingly high prices. But now
they are extinct; they have fallen a sacrifice ta
tho exigencies of war. The Mecklenburg
troops which were quartered in the town
thought fresh meat for the moment, no matter
of what quality, more necessary than fine wool,
tor the future ; and therefore, notwitnetanding
an order to send the sheep to Germany, they <
were condemned to appease the‘hunger of the
soldiers. Not a solitary lamb or i*am remains
to perpetuate the glory of its raee.
Strange. —A Boston letter to a
Western paper says : So many cases of sudden
death have occurred m Cambridge among ricn
men who had just finished now and expensive
houses, that a superstition has become rife on
the subject. Dozens of instances are cited to
prove the truth of the rule, and I know of one
man—he is, perhaps, the richest man in the
city—who lives year by year in a shabby and
incommodious house, simply because of his
fear of incurring the mysterious fatality. The *
late Mr. Welch, the rich printer, had nearly
finished a house, which would cost, with its
furniture, one hundred thousand dollars, and
proposed to build a stable at an expense ol '
twenty thousand dollars. Not two weeks be
fore his death, he was speaking of this very
superstition, and pooh-poohed it. “You may
say what you please,” said he, “ I don’t believe
it; I’ve built a fine house, and I’m alive yet.*
Ten days later he had left his house and all hie
worldly goods behind. t ’
The Lowest Type of Humanity.—
On the Island of Borneo there has been found
a certain race of wild creatures, of which kin
dred varieties have been discovered in the
Philippine Islands, in Terra del Fuego, and in
South America. They walked usually, almost
erect on two legs, and in that attitude measure
about four feet in hight. They are dark, wrink
led, and hairy. They construct no habitation,
form no families, scarcely associate together,
sleep in caves or trees, feed on snakes and ver
min, on ants’ eggs, on' mice, and on each other*
They cannot be tamed or forced to any labor,
and are hunted and shot among the trees like
the groat gorilla, of which they are a stunted
copy. When-they are captured alive, one finds
with surprise that their uncouth jabbering
sounds like articulate language. They turn
up a human face to gaze at their captor, and .
females show instincts of modesty; and in fine, '
these wretched beings are man.
Enveloped in Flames. —On Tues
day of last week, in Cincinnati, Miss Mary
Brmkmeyer, a young lady, aged eighteen
years, was sitting at the stove, warming her
feet, when-a gust of wind down the chimney
drove the flames against her dress, which
caught fire, and in a moment she was envel
oped in flames. Her screams awakened Mr.
Ed Broadman, who was sleeping in an adjoin
ing room, and he rushed to her assistance,
and smothered the flames with a feather bed.
She was literally roasted alive, the skin peel
ing off every part of her body, and in some
places large pieces of flesh comin" with it.
Her face was completely sxinued, and present
ed a fearful sight, but her neck, breast, and
right arm and hand, in fact, her whole right
side, was more deeply burned than other por
tions of her body. Medical aid was summoned,
but without avail, as the young lady died after
several hours’ extreme suffering.
— i
Interesting Company. —A passenger
train from Suspension Bridge brought a young ,
lady to Rochester, having, as part of her bag
gage, two black pigs about six weeks old. This
lady resided on the Sand Bar, at the mouth of
Irendequoit’Bay. She had been to Michigan
on a visit. While there she was presented
with the pigs, on condition that she would take
them home. The animals were placed in a
bag and deposited under the seat in the car oc
cupied by the lady who owned them. Thus \
they rode safely to Rochester, and conducted
themselves in such an orderly manner that
they did not attract the attention of the con
ductor or passengers. On reaching the depot,
the young lady took the bag of pigs in her
arms and bore it safely to a fish market on
Front street, and left them to be taken to her
and their future- home when it shall suit bet
convenience. <
Gunpowder and Steam. —The force
of steam, even when doing its mightiest work, A »
is but faint and small comparea with that of
the exploding charge of gunpowder that sends
from the gun a 300 lb. or 600 lb. shot with a>
velocity which carries it through thick armor
plates of wrought iron. A 600 lb. shot will pierce
twelve inches of iron at 200 yards distance.
This gigantic force is imparted to the shot in
the brief fraction of a second that it is moving
down the barrel of a gun. Remembering that
“ the gain in power is loss in time,” and con
sequently that when the time is diminished the
power is proportionately increased we may form
some conception how enormously great is that
force which is exerted within the breadh of a
heavy gun, and which is resisted by it every «
time it is fired. It is a force which, if turned
into foot pounds would represent the steam
power, not of a ship, but of a navy.
How they Settled Breaches of
Promise in the Middle Ages.— Breaches of
promise, and similar disputes, were decided by
duel in mediaeval Germany, a faithless swain
or errant husband having to meet his indig
nant victim hand to band in the lists. In tho
approved form of duel, the dame was reduced
to her chemise. One of its sleeves was length
ened for the occasion by about eighteen inch
es, and tied up in tno end of this long sleeve
was a neat paving stone. The man was also
stripped to nis last garment, had Ins left arm
tied close to his side, was furnished with a
short baton, half an ell in length, and was
clapped in a tub, waist deep, in the ground.
The lady maneuvered round the tub, and
struck at her antagonist with her sleeve, while
he defended himself as best he could with big
baton. ' ’
The Dirty Town of Cats.— Tunis is
described as one of the dirtiest, muddiest, and
most ruinous towns in the Turkish dominions ;
while the inhabitants are devout though horri
bly licentious in their morals. One unpleasant
feature of the town is the swarm of cats, which
are quite as numerous as the dogs of Constan
tinople. The fertility of the soil in the neigh
borhood of Tunis is extraordinary, though the
peasants cultivate no more land than is suffi
cient for their wants, being fearful of exciting
the rapacity of the Bey and his fierce soldiery.
Radishes grow as large as a beet-root, and
onions as young cabbages, but lose all flavor.
Corn, olives, limes, and figs flourish in the
northern parts of the Regency, and dates and
henna in the southern.
A Mule Mother. —The history of
the mule kind, so far as written, is said to re
cord but two instances where the long-eared
feminines have given birth to progeny of their
own race. Horsemen say that such occur
rences are so rare that they should be classed
among tho “ wonders of the world.” A Lafay
ette, Ind., paper records the third-instance of
the kind. John Godman recently purchased a
lot of six mules, which.he sold tcxStephen Tay
lor and Charles Mickels. On the following
morning the purchasers discovered that they
had seven instead of six quadrupeds, one of
the animals having given birth to a handsome
little mule during the night. .
A Rival to Tea and Coffee. —Tea
and coffee are threatened with a Brizilian rival,
called guarana. Guarana consists of the seeds
of a tree known to botanists as the Paulina
sorbitis, which is very abundant. The tree
produces a fruit about the size of a walnut,
containing five or six seeds. The seeds are
roasted, mixed with water, and dried. Before
being used they require grinding, when they
fall into a kind of powder. The active princi
ple is an alkaloid identical with that found in
tea and coffee, but there is twice as much of it
in guarana as there is in tea. The effects ar©
similar to those of tea and coffee.
A Truly Good Woman.*— ln one of
the alleys running off from Fountain Bridge,
Edinburgh, & street crowded with drunkeness
and pollution, is the low-roofed building in
which the daughter of Dr. Chalmers is spend
ing her life to help men and women out of their
miseries. Her chief work is with drunkards,,
their wives, and daughters. In the Winter,
when the nights aro long and cold, you. may
see Helen Chalmers, with her lantern, going
through the lanes of the city, hunting up th©
depraved, and bringing them out to her reform
meeting. Insult her, do they ? Never ! They
would as soon think of pelting an angel.
Warning a Stranger. —A fascinat
ing youth of Louisville was recently very badly
“ sold” by tho matron of the Kentucky State
Prison, in whose daughter he seemed to evince
a very strong interest while traveling in a rail
road car. Thinking the flirtation had contin
ued long enough, she suddenly changed her
seat to the side of tne young man, and whis
pered in his ear, “Sir, you are a total stranger
to me, but I feel it my duty to warn you of im
pending evil. That young lady is just out of
the State Prison.”. A passenger got off at
next station.
Tit for Tat. —French papers com
plain that the Germans have taken a great
many of the most valuable pictures from tha
gallery of Versailles. A Berlin paper com
menting on this, denies the assertion, but adds
it it were true, the Germans would only pay?
back in the same coin what the French of tha
First Empire, who have always beeu worship,
ped as heroes in France, have done in theil
time in Germany. ■•-*> I
1 J \
There is said to be a female Anil-
Slandering Society in Philadelphia, which is a per*
feet success, it is composed wholly of deaf
dumb women.
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