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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, May 19, 1872, Image 7

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Sunday Edition. May 19.
WiY FUTURE HUSBAND.
By 11. A. 11.
THiere, oh, where can he be ?
On this measureless planet, where?
And when will he come and take to himself
His part of my burden of care.
I know I shall meet him «ome time,
I feel he is mine by right,
Jhat he thinks of me, as I think of him,
Though either be lost to sight.
Is he handsome, or is he plain?
Is he solemn, or is he gay ?
“Will he cherish me lon<z, with a purpose strong.
Or tire of me in a day ?
Is he light, or is he dark ?
Is he short, or is he tali'?
Has ho a heart of the tender sort ?
Or has he no heart at all ?
Oh, that wonderful, great unknown,
That future mystical man,
I hope kind Fate will hasten his steps,
As last as ever she can I
THE THREE SCHMIDTS.
A REMARKABLE MURDER MYSTERY.
One of the most remarkable judicial puzzles
On record was the subject of investigation halt
a century ago in a small town in Germany.
There resided in the town one Christopher
Ruprecht, an elderly widower, reputed rich,
but illiterate, covetous, quarrelsome, rude of
speech, and vulgar in his habits, who carried
on the business oi a goldsmith. His selfish
ness and his repulsive habits had alienated
from him all his relations, with the exception
Of a sister and a married daughter, who resided
In the town, and who still continued, probably
as much from consideration ot self-interest as
from affection, to visit him regularly, notwith
standing his repellent manners and degrading
habits.
■ Ho was accustomed, after closing his shop,
to frequent a small beer-house, situate at the
end of a dark and winding lane, which, from
its gloomy situation, bore the name of “Hell,”
and there to mingle with the most disreputa
ble characters of the town, About half-past
eight o’clock on the evening of the 7th of Feb
ruary, 1817, he repaired to this place as usual,
find joined m the conversation that was going
on till past ten o’clock. As the landlord was
ascending from the ground floor with a fresh
supply oi beer, a voice from the passage below
Inquired if Ruprecht was above ; and, on the
landlord answering, without turning his head,
fn the affirmative, he was requested by the
person below to desire him to come down. On
this message being delivered to the goldsmith,
tie rose hastily, and left the room.
He had been absent scarcely a minute when
Hie company be had quitted distinctly heard,
proceeding from the passage below, a sound as
of a heavy body falling on the floor. All hur
ried down the stairs. Ruprecht was found ly
ing near the outer door, covered with blood
but still alive. His leather cap, which had
been cut through by the blow, was lying a few
feet from him. When lifted up, he faintly ar
ticulated, “ The villain I—the villain with the
fixl Mv daughter I—my daughter!”
I No trace of the assassin appeared in the
neighborhood. No weapon was found in the
passage or near the door. The wound, when
examined, was found to have been inflicted
with a sharp instrument, and was four inches
long, extending along the to P of the head to
ward the back, near the left side, and deeper
nt the bottom than at the top. That it had
not been given in the passage seemed clear
first, from the circumstance that a lamp burned
there, and that servants wore continually cross
ing it; and, secondly, from the fact that the
blow had fallen with great force from behind
and above, while the ceiling was so low that
anyone might touch it with the hand, so that
It would have been impossible for tne mur
derer to have raised bis arm so as to have
struck the fatal blow with the force which had
evidently been used.
From the position, too, in which the old man
Was found, immediately behind the door, which
was open.it seemed probable that the blow
had been given outside, and that the victim,
after receiving it, had staggered back into the
passage. The door was approached by two
etops, on the left of which was a stone seat,
about two feet high ; and it was thought prob
able that the murderer bad mounted this seat,
awaited Ruprecht’s appearance, and then
Struck him from his elevated position. The
Unconnected expressions of the murdered man
pointed to an ax as the weapon with which
death had been dealt him; but the surgeon
Who examined the wound was of opinion that
it had been inflicted with a sabre, wielded by a
practiced hand.
Ruprecht’s daughter was immediately sent
for, but bis mind seemed to be wandering, and
ho did not recognize her. All that could be
done was to wait until he recovered his senses
sufficiently to make a coherent statement. It
was not until the evening of the following day
that the medical attendant considered him in
fit state to make a deposition. To the first
questions of the magistrate he replied, faintly,
that the assassin’s name was Schmidt, that he
lived in a street called the Most, and that he
bad struck him with a hatchet.
“Hoy did you know him?” Inquired the
magistrate.
“ By his voice,” was the reply.
“ Was ho indebted to you ?”
Buprecbt shook his head.
“ What was his motive ?”
“Qunnei," replied tne wounded man, more
faintly; and then be became so much ex
hausted that he was interrogated no further.
There were three Sohwidts in the town, all
Of them wood-cutters—two, who were brothers,
residing in the Most, and the third in a street
called the Holien Pilaster, The elder of the
brothers Schmidt had formerly been an inti
mate acquaintance of Ruprecht’s, but had
ceased to bo so in consequence of having given
evidence unfavorable to him in a civil action.
The other was also acquainted with the old
goldsmith, but they had never been on good
terms. Schmidt of the Hobin Pilaster was un
der the stigma of having been, in his youth,
connected with a gang of thieves, and been im
prisoned in consequence.
i Before proceeding to the arrest of either of
the three, the magistrate again examined Ru
precht, who had in the meantime undergone
the operation ot trepanning. On being asked
which of the Schmidts it was who had attacked
him, ho made an attempt to speak, but seemed
unable to articulate. When asked whether
the assassin lived in the Most, he was silent.
He was then asked whether the Schmidt who
struck the blow resided m the Hohen Pilaster,
to which he replied with difficulty, but dis
tinctly, “Yes,” and immediately relapsed into
insensibility.
As he thus wavered between the Schmidts of
the Most and the Schmidt of the Hohen Pilas
ter, the police appiehended all three, with a
view to their being confronted with the injured
man, in order that he might identify the assas
sin. When they were brought into his room,
Ruprecht was sensible, but unable to raise his
eyes, so that the main object of the interview
was defeated. There were differences, how
ever, in the behavior of the three men, which,
While tbew tended to avert suspicion from two
of them, directed it with increased force against
the third. The brothers Schmidt appeared
perfectly composed; they spoke to Ruprecht,
balling him by name, and expressed their sym
• pathy with him under his suflerings. Schmidt
of .the Hohen Pilaster, on the contrary, was
agitated and restless ; first denied that he
knew Ruprecht, then called him by his name,
and acknowledged that ho knew him well. On
being interrogated as to where he was on the
night of the attack, he first stated that he was
at the house of his wife’s mother, and did not
leave until elevon o’clock ; and. afterward that
ho left the house at nine o’clock, and went
home and to bed immediately. Ho protested
his innocence and ignorance of the whole affair,
and appealed to the testimony of his wife, her
mother, and the neighbors. His evident agi
tation, and bis contradictions, which ho made
no attempt to reconcile, appeared to the magis
trate sufficient grounds for a remand, and on
the 10th of February he was committed to
prison.
On the following day all hope of eliciting
further information from Ruprecht was ter
minated by his death. He never recovered his
senses after his interview with the Schmidts.
, Subsequently, investigations tended to in
crease the suspicions against Abraham
Schmidt, which his agitation and his contra
dictory statements had awakened. On search,
ing his house, the handle of his ax’, near the
head, was found to be streaked with red
•".arks, resembling the stains of blood. The
discrepancies and inconsistencies of his state
ments were now even more glaring than when
jn the presence of the wounded man.
I When asked to explain how ho knew the in
jured man to be Ruprecht, since he stated that
be had never seen him before, he replied that
be bad heard of the affair at the “Boar,” a lit
tle beer-house, in which he had been the day
after the murder. To the question where he
had been on the night of the crime, he an
swered that he had been with his wife and
Child, at the house of his mother-in-law, till
nine o’clock, when he had gone homo and re
tired to rest, and that his wife did not return
till ten.
“ But yesterday,” said the magistrate, “you
4aid you did not return till eleven o’clock."'
i “ Yes, at eleven I returned with my wife,”
77 as the contradictory reply.
| “A few minutes ago you said you returned
ot nine, and that your wife remained behind.
Bow do you explain this ?”
if, “My neighbors can testify that I returned at
Bine. My wife remained for a short time be
hind mo; she returned after ten, when I was
asleep. She must have come in by using the
£ey of the street door.”
“The key of the street door, you eaid a little
tvhilo ago, was in your mother’s possession.
How could your wife, who was at her mother’s,
have used it to obtain admission ?”
i “She had the key with her. I said my wife
teturned with mo at nine o’clock, put the child
to bed, and then took the key off tne table, and
returned to her mother’s. Bhe came back at
•leven."
* “Just now yon said ten. 1 '
’• U I was asleep ;it may have been ten.”
- These irreconcilable contradictions as to the
bout at which ha returned home—as to wue
•Jer h® retuioe d alone or accompanied by his
Wife and as to the hour al which she had re
turned, and the mode by which she had ob
ikißOd admtwtea—hie downcast looks during
his examination—his evident anxiety to avoid
any lengthy explanation—the stains upon his
, ax—the last statement of Ruprecht as to the
name and residence of the murderer—all taken
together formed a powerful combination of sus
picious circumstances. But, on the other
hand, the very grossness of the contradictions
leads to the inference that they must have'
proceeded from deficient powers of memory,
of intellect, or of self-possession, rathor than
from a desire to willfully pervert the truth. It
is unlikely that any person whose intellectual'
faculties were not weakened or disordered,
either by natural deficiency or temporary anx
iety and trepidation, or both, should in the
course of half an hour vary his account of such
an affair so strangely as Schmidt did.
His relations and neighbors testified that
this was indeed his character—that his dull
ness of intellect almost amounted to idiotcy,
and that his obtusity, combined with his inof
fensiveness, had procured him the nickname
of “Sheep.” It is not difficult, then, to be
lieve that a man who was never able to express
his ideas clearly, or even intelligibly, should
when apprehended by the police, confronted
with a murdered man, and called upon to ex
plain seeming contradictions, lose the little
self possession and brightness of intellect he
ever possessed, and answer without under
standing either the questions put to him or hie
own replies. For instance, his answer to the
question how ho had recognized Ruprecht, il
logical as it was, is intelligible enough when
the character of Schmidt is kept in view. He
probably intended to say that he know the
wounded man to bo Ruprecht because ho had
previously heard of the murder, and knew that
ho lived at the house to whion ho was taken
to be confronted with him. As to tho time and
manner of his return, too, a confusion might
easily arise in tho mind of one so simple be
tween tho hour at which he had himself re
turned and that when his wife had returned
tho second time ; and though some contradic
tions would still remain, many of the circum
stances which at first appear inconsistent
might be explained by supposing the truth to
be, that he and his wife left her mother’s to
gether at nine o’clock, and went homo, and
that, after he was in bed, his wife returned to
her mother’s, and finally returned homo be
tween ten and eleven.
This was, in fact, substantially proved in the
course of the investigation. Barbara Lang,
tho prisoner’s mother-in-law, deposed that be
and bis wife wore accustomed to pass the even
ing at her house to save fire and candles ; that
they left on the night of the murder at about
half past nine, with the child ; and that her
daughter afterward returned to finish some
work, and remained with her about an hour
and a half, when she returned home.
Cunegunda Schmidt, tho wife of the accused,
though she differed from her mother as to the
hour at which she loft with her husband and
the child, agreed with her in every other par
ticular, She had been admitted the second
time by their landlady, had found her husband
asleep, and neither of them had left the house
again until seven o’clock tho next morning, #
Barbara Kraus, the tenant of the house in
which the Schmidts lodged, had seen them re
turn between eight and mine o’clock, and the
accused had wished her good-night as he went
up the stairs. She at first stated that she had
uot again opened the door that night; but af
terward admitted that she might have done so,
although, her attention having been much oc
cupied at tho time with other matters, she
could not recollect tho circumstance.
Though there wore some discrepancies be
tWG6n tbd witnoeoeo ms to tiiuo, they oouiu
easily accounted for, without any suspicion of
an intentional violation of the truth, in the
case of persons having no clock or watch to re
fer to, and on a Jong dajk njght of February,
Tho only question "Was, which of them had
made tho nearest approach to the truth, and
the solution of this doubt was of considerable
importance in reference to tho possibility of
the prisoner’s guilt. Taking the medium be
tween the different periods stated, and sup
posing Schmidt to have reached his home
about a quarter past nine, and to have been
found in bed by his wifo on her return, at about
half-past ton, there would be only tho inter
vening period of an hour and a quarter during
which Schmidt could have committed tho mur
der. The crime had boon perpetrated at about
a quarter past ton. The beer-house at which
the rencontre took place was distant a mile
and a quater from Schmidt’s abode; and tho
path ot a murderer, go to or from the scone of
a murderer, going to or from the scene of his
crime, is rarely the most direct one.
Supposing, however, that there was time
enough for Sqhmidt to have reached the beer
house, committed the crime, and returned
homo, it seems unlikely that a man so obtuse
in intellect, so incapable of acting with decision
and judgment in the ordinary affairs ot life,
and who had been toiling for the support of
his family until late in tho evening, and had
then returned homo, soberly and quietly, as
the evidence showed he was wont to do, and
and gone to bod, should seize the opportunity
afforded by his wife’s return to her mother’s
to rise and dress, hurry to a distance, commit
an atrocious murder, and then bo found calmly
sleeping, at home, a quarter of an hour after
the crime had been perpetrated.
There still remained tho suspicious circum
stance of the supposed stains of blood upon
the handle of the ax, which Schmidt accounted
for by saying that, if they existed, of which he
was not aware, they must have been caused by
the bursting of a gathering in his hand, the
day before be was apprehended. But this
gathering, it was remarked, had been on the
right hand, while the red marks were on tho
upper part of tho handle of the axo, which Is
held by the left hand ; and, if the stains had
been produced bv blood trickling from tho
right hand, they would have been on the lower
end of the handle. To this objection tho ac
cused replied, that he was left-handed, and
that, in hewing, contrary to the usual practice,
he held the lower part of the handle in his left
band, and the upper in his right, a statement
which was corroborated by several of the wit
nesses.
Moreover, the surgeon by whom tho stains
were examined expressed a doubt whether they
were really those of blood, since they rubbed
out more easily than blood-spots would have
done. Tho examination of the stains micro
scopically, or tho test chemical analysis, does
not seem to have been thought of. A further
examination of the ax showed, however, that
it could not well have been the instrument
with which tho fatal blow had been inflicted.
The wound caused by the blow of an ax, fall
ing straight down, and not drawn along as a
sabre is, would not bo longer than tho edge of
the axe ; but here tho length of the edge was
only three inches and a third, while the length
of tho wound was four inches, and tho cut in
the deceased’s leather cap was four inches and
a third in length.
The form of tho wound, too, which came
gradually to a point at both ends, differed irre
concilably from the broad and equally defined
which would-be made by an ax. Tho
surgeon who had dressed the wound also had
declared his opinion that it had been inflicted
with a sabre, and not with an ax.
Thus, one by one, the grounds of suspicion
which had at first appeared to be assuming so
firm and compact a form, crumbled away; and,
though Schmidt was not liberated, it was evi
dent that, as matters stood, his ultimate dis
charge or acquittal was almost certain. But
as the cloud of suspicion passed away from
him, it began to gather round the heads of his
namesakes, the Schmidts of the Most.
Both the brothers Schmidt had booh ac
quainted with Ruprecht, and had been at one'
time among the usual companions of his ca
rousals. Their intimacy, however, had been
suddenly terminated in consequence of a quar
rel in wbicn Buprooht became involved with
the surveyors of the district; Gotz and Fried
mann, and which resulted in the goldsmith,
who had publicly made certain unfounded
charges against them, being convicted of slan
der upon the evidence of the Schmidts, and
sentenced to a brief Imprisonment. Ho had
retaliated by an action for damages against
Gotz and Friedmann, which was pending at
the time of his death. Was it possible that the
surveyors had made use of the Schmidts as in
struments of their revenge against their per
tinacious adversary ? Possible, certainly;
but improbable, for they appear to have treated
Ruprecht with the greatest forbearance
throughout the proceedings, and their charac
ter was that of mon utterly incapable of so
atrocious a crime. The evidence as to the
character of the Sohmidts was equally satis
factory ; and it was shown by several witnesses
that they had returned home early-on the
night of the murder, and had not gone out
again until the following morning.
When the judicial investigation had proceed
ed thus far, two other Sohmidts were discov
ered m tho suburbs of the town, and. one of
those was the wood cutter generally employed
by Bioringer, Ruprecht’s son-in-law. But
against neither of these could the faintest evi
dence bo adduced. The researches of the po
lice now seemed baffled. Ruprecht had varied
m his statement as to tho place of abode of tho
assassin, and it now transpired in addition
that, when asked by a relative if ha knew tho
man who had struck him, he had replied in
tho negative. It now seemed probable, there
fore, that his first statement had resulted from
tho confusion of his mind at the time, and his
associating the idea of a wood-cutter’s ax, with
which he imagined he had been struck, with
tho recollection of the part played by the two
Schmidts in tho proceedings instituted by Gotz
and Friedmann.
Suspicion being thus averted from tho
Sohmidts, the whole of the circumstances of
the murder were again reviewed, and every ex
pression of the deceased after receiving the
fatal blow, was viewed in every possible light.
11-. s exclamation, “ My daughter I—my daugh
ter!” which had been attributed to a desire to
see her, was now construed less favorably. It
w.s ascertained that Ruprecht and Bieringer
had not been oa good terms for some timo pre
vious to the murder ; that Bienngor, who was
a man of education and refinement, had often
expressed dislike of the low habits of his fath
er-in-law ; and that Ruprecht had been so
much irritated in consequence, that he never
spoke of Bieringer but m terms of contempt
and aversion. Only a few days before bis
death he had called him, in the presence of bis
servant, a d—d villain, and said that ho would
never speak to him again, even if be wore dy
ing.
Actuated by these feelings toward him, Ru
precht had determined to make a will by which
cis property, all of which was to have been be
queathed to his daughter, should be beyond
<i.e control of her tiusoand ; and this intention
no bad announced, about two mouths before
, NEW YORK DISPATCH.
his death, to his daughter, and more lately to
an apprentice named Hognor, to Whom bo as
signed as the reason his determination to dis
appoint “that villain Bieringer.” Within a
few hours of his murder, ho had sent for Hog
ner to assist him in arranging his papers, and
had fixed the following Sunday for the comple
tion of the long-projected will. This intention
he had announced in the hearing of his serv
ant, and from one or other of these sources it
might have been communicated to Bieringer,
who was shown to live unhappily with his wife;
and Ruprecht’s determination rrighthave been
the motive for the murder, wli'ch was commit
ted the same night—that of the Friday before
the Sunday on which th? wi’f W£ l9 to hove been
BisjacS. ’ ’ ’ ~ K .,
It was ascertained that when tho intelligence
of the murder was received by Bieringer, ho
observed to his wife, coldly, and with ah air of
vexation, that she must go to her father, as
something had happened to him, adding :
“We have nothing but plague with him.”
The behavior of the when she ar
rived at tho beer-houso, seemed to some of
those present to indicate want of filial regard.
Her first concern was to see whether the old
man had his keys about him, and having found
them, she took possession of them, and wont
away. With the removal of her father from
tho boor-house to his own abode, all her solici
tude seemed to cease. She appeared, accord
ing to some of tho witnesses, to give grudging
ly what was required for his comfort. While
the investigation was proceeding, she seemed
to display a singular anxiety to increase tho
suspicion against the Schmidts by reporting
conversations with her father which no one olso
had heard, and in which the murderer was de
scribed as a big man, suoh being the descrip
tion of the elder of tho brothers Schmidt.
Bieringer was a little man.
These attempts to throw suspicion upon ono
who had boon proved to have ba,d no part in tho
crime, the alleged strange behavior of tho
daughter, the ill-feeling between Bieringer and
the deceased, and the inducement to the crime
furnished by tho intended will, impressed the
magistrate with tho conviction that Bieringer
would be found to be the assassin. Yet in this
case also, as in that of the Schmidts, tho
grounds of suspicion vanished one by one, as
the investigation proceeded.
Clara Ruprecht, tho sister of tho deceased,
stated that it was his invariable practice to
call for his daughter when anything unpleasant
or vexatious occurred to him; and the land
lady of the beer house deposed that she first
suggested sending for his daughter, to which
he assented by an affirmative nod. Bieringer’s
indifference when informed of the murder was
accounted for by the ill-feeling existing be
tween himself and tho deceased; and was not
easily reconcilable with the supposition that he
was tho murderer. The inference drawn from
the evidence as to the alleged indifference of
the daughter was neutralized by the testimony
of other witnesses that her behavior was most
affectionate, and that the keys were taken at
the suggestion of the surgeon, who imagined
that tho murder might have been committed
as a preliminary to robbery. Her suspicion of
Schmidt might have been caused by expres
sions really used by her father, whose mind
often waadered after he received the fatal blow;
and tho pertinacity with which she retained
the idea of his guilt was not unnatural, in the
absence of anything tending to divert suspicion
in another direction.
Even the foundation of the suspicion against
Bieringer—namely, the supposed motive fur
nished by Ruprecht’s intended will—won re.
moycii j ror mere was no evidence that ho was
aware of the goldsmith’s intention. His wife
deposed that she had never communicated to
him the conversation witli hor father, whiph,
from the indifferent terms’ on which they lived,
rYas extremely probable. Hogner had not di
vulged his master’s intentions to anyone, and
the servant equally disclaimed having done so.
Finally, positive evidence was adduced that, at
tho, time when the murder was committed,
Bieringer was sitting in a tavern parlor in an
other part’of the town.
Tho Investigation was not, however, yet
abandoned. Ruprecht’s servant was desired
to mention the name of any person who had
none business with him shortly before the mur
der ; and thereupon stated that three mon,
having the appearafioe of military musicians;
had been at the houSo (fix the morning of tho
day on which the crime was committed. Those
men, who'proved to be oboe players in the
band of a regiment quartered in tho town, and
named Proschl, Muht and Spitzbart, were taken
into custody.
It then appeared, from their answers to the
interrogatories of the magistrate, that Frosohl
bad borrowed twenty-two florins of Ruprecht
shortly before the murder, that the deceased
had become importunate for payment, and that
Proschl, accompanied by Mnhl and Spitzbart,
had called upon the goldsmith with the view of
obtaining some delay, ahd that the deceased
had fixed the next morning for accompanying
Proschl to a relative, from whom be said he
expected to receive the money.
These circumstances, and the opinion of the
surgeon that the wound had been inflicted with
a sabre, seemed to warrant tho conclusion that
the criminal was at last discovered ; but here,
also, tho rising fabric of evidence was over
turned by clear proof of alibi on the part of
every ono of tho suspected. The investigation
was thereupon abandoned ; and from that day
to this not the faintest light has been thrown
upon this most mysterious affair.
Marriage of a Russian Count.
Tho reader will remember the excitement a
so-called Russian count created in Amherst,
Mass., something more than a year ago, when
he camo to marry a Miss Lester, the ward of
Professor Tyler, of Amherst college, on which
occasion lie was summarily turned out of the
house and commanded never to show his faco
in the place again. The town was “all agog”
at that time, fairly seething with excitement,
and it had been only partially allayed when it
was rumored that a compromise had been ef
fected. The count was to leave the country
for a year, have no correspondence with the
object of bis affection, and not to return unless
bearing credentials establishing his character
and right to tho title he assumed. He left the
country according to the agreement, and noth
ing more was heard of him or his claims till a
month since, when his name was noticed among
the arrivals in one of the uptown hotels of this
city. Soon after he went to Springfield and re
gistered himself at the Massasoit, sent to Miss
Lester, who, with her mother, went to Spring
field and met the count. What transpired
there between the parties is not definitely
known, except that on the return of the ladies
to Amherst Mrs. Lester refused to have any
further interviews with the count, saying that
he was entirely unable to prove himself what
he claimed to, be, and to her inind, at least,
was an impostor. Who is he ? is the question
of the greatest interest. Count Eugene Oskar
Emil Constantine Mitkiewiez, son of Count
Ivan Ivanowich Mitkiewiez, ex-councillor of
state of the Russian empire, is the pompous
title he inscribes on the hotel register. Tall,
slender, sandy complexion, reddish whiskers,
worn in the English style, eyes that do not in
snire confidence, he has anything but a Rus
sian look, and many pronounce him at first
sight an Irishman. He is always dressed in
the most killing styles, walks about with his
hands in his pockets, swearing at his enemies
and telling great things of his own state and
importance; speaks French perfectly and Eng
lish hesitatingly, unless in a passion, when his
utterance is good and clear. Of course, a
thousand stories are abroad in regard to bis
antecedents. The officials at the Russian em
bassy at Washington ignore him, and say there
is no such noble family in Russia. One of the
recent issues of a local paper remarked that it
was known to the friends of Miss Lester that
he had no right to tho title, and that his repu
tation was otherwise unenviable. But, in spite
of these damaging reports, the lady remained
unalterably attached to him, and vowed to
marry him, and him alone.
Accordingly, in spite of tho opposition of
friends, preparations for the wedding were
actively carried on, and the 30th of April ap
pointed as the day to make two hearts one.
An elegant trousseau of the lady was pur
chased by the count at McCreery’s, and for
warded to Amhurst. By those who have had
the good fortune to see it, it is pronounced to
be the finest ever seen in the town of Amherst,
of great richness and beauty, and well worth
the admiration of any bride. Miss Lester is
an Episcopalian, and the count a communi
cant of the Greek church, and this necessi
tated a double ceremony. Since the Boman
Catholic is closely allied to the Greek com
munion, Father Brennan consented to marry
them according to the Romish ritual. The
ceremony at Grace (Episcopal) Church was
appointed at 3P. M. Soon after 2 o’clock the
doors were thrown open, and in five minutes
the house was densely filled, every seat and
aisle being crowded, except the center, The
chancel was profusely decorated with tropical
plants. Seats were reserved in front for the
relatives of the bride, and not one was occu
pied.
About half-past two the count and Miss Les
ter rode to the residence of Father Brennan,
and in the parlor of the parsonage, in tho
presence of one or two of the friends of the
bride, they were married according to the law
ful rites of the church. After the preliminary
ceremonies, cake and wine were brought for
ward; the count drank a brimming glass to
the health of his fair bride, smoked a cigarette,
entered his carriage, and drove to Grace
Church. A swell senior of tho Massachusetts
Agricultural College acted as master of cere
monies, and under his escort and three ushers
of the same genus from Amherst College, the
procession walked slowly up tho aisle. The
count had on his arm a well-known lady of
Amherst, whose husband followed with Miss
Lester, and gave her away at tho altar. Tho
bride was dressed in a heavy white corded silk
and train, with orange blossoms tastefully ar
ranged in her hair, which was done up in heavy
coils. A white lace vail reaching nearly to the
floor, white gloves and satin slippers, with
etruscan gold jewelry and diamonds, com
pleted her toilet. Tho count wore a full even
ing dross, with a superabundance of jewelry.
The ceremony was performed by tho Bev. Mr.
Allen, and when ho bad pronounced tho bless
ing, the “ Wedding March” was the signal for
everybody to depart. The future movements
of the count and bis bride are uncertain. They
departed for Boston,-and it is reported that
they intend to spend the Summer al the Orient,
a hotel a few miles east of Amherst.
Thus has ended cue ot the most peculiar and,
in some respecte. saddest love affairs that ever
occurred in America. On tie part of the lady,
it has been a case of infatuation ; on the part
of the count, nothing can be certainly known
at present It money was hie object, ho is cer
tainly disappointed ; for, instead of being worth
a million, as first reported, the bride’s fortune
will not exceed one-twentieth of that sum, and
it is so placed that the interest alone is avail
able. It only -illustrates tho well-known fact
that American girls often care more for a for
eign title than for an honest and less showy
native.
WILLIAM AM) MARY.
Once upon a time there was a fair young
maiden whose name was Mary, although they
called her Moll for short. She wasn’t a tall,
dark-eyed maiden, with clear, transparent
sliri Itod bps bke cherries, and cheeks suf
fusecl wfth blushes. She didn’t have glossy
black hair, sWcepi„ B ' !?&ok in wavy tresses horn
her queenly brow, and Efif l.wiH jJSSIi- S
like Hebe’s. No, there was 116116 Of tIIOSS
things—on the contrary, she was short and
thin, and had red hair and freckles, and she
also sported snaggle teeth and wore pads, but
still she was a right nice girl, and there was a
young man who fell in love with hor, and his
name was Bill, although bis friends called him
William when they wanted to hurt his feelings,
for be didn’t like it much. He wasn’t fine
looking, and had neither curly brown hair nor
a mustache. Not much ; Bill laid himself out
on soap-locks, and wore a goatee that he bad
dyed twice a week.
Now this Bill was in lovo with Mary, but did
he go and make a deliberate ass of himself?
Did he, I say, go into a grove with hor, and in
the soft moonlight, by the streamlet that mur
mured sweetly by, and with the tender zeyph
ers sighing through tho foliage, seize her
jeweled hand, and breathe his deep attach
ment, and swear “ by yon bright orb above us
always to be thine ?” Did he, I say ? You can
just bet ho didn’t. You can lay out your whole
revenue safely on that. William know too
much about the prico of pants to go flopping
around on the wet grass with his good clothes
on; beside, he never cared anything about
streamlets or any kind of cold water, except to
mix with his gin. No, sir, it was exceedingly
strange, but this infatuated William met her
at the alley gate, and he stood right up on his
old legs and says : “Say, Moll, old gal, s’posen
we get hitched ?”
But how did Mary behave? Did she go
dropping to sleep over on the bricks in a dead
faint, or did she hide hor gentle head on his
shirt bosom to conceal her blushes ? No, she
didn’t, and she didn’t say, “I’m ever thine, my
own love dear William 1” Oh my, no. She
looked right in his yellow eyes, and says, “ I’m
in, Billy ; I’m the gal for these sort of things.
Go in.” And instead of referring him to her
father, she only said, “ Won’t the old man bust
right out when you tell him? Hal ha!” and
she laughed. But she didn’t ask William to
try to mollify her fond father. No, no. She
very wickedly advised him to “poke tho old
man in the nose if ho gave him any of his lip.”
She was a funny girl, this Mary.
Now, the old man wasn’t wealthy, for he sold
soap-fat for a living, and so he didn’t think Bill
was nosing around after bis stamps; so when
Bill'asked him, he neither ordered him fiercely
away nor did tbs dewy moisture gather in his
eagle eye as ho passed his hem-stitched up
there and said : “Bless you, my children, bless
you 1” Oh, no, nothing of the sort. Ho just
blew his old red nose in his bandanna and told
Bill to take her along, for be was glad to got
nd of hnr, he was, and William would be tho
same mighty soon, for she was awful rough on
and always broke plates when she got
mad.
So, you see, there really was no necessity for
William to come at midnight’s solemn hour, in
a oab, and throw a rope-ladder up to her win
dow, and whistle three times on his fingers,
and then go up, hand over hand, and bring
her down in one hand and her trunk in the
other, and a band-box and on umbrella under
each arm, and a whole lot of bundles, and
then get into the cab and fly to some distant
shore. That’s the way it would have been in a
novel; but Bill wasn’t on that lay, and so he
iust went out in the yard, and out of pure joy
io skinned the cat throe or four times on the
grape-vine arbor, and then went and got in bis
butcher cart and drove Mary right down to the
magistrate to get the job done for a quarter
tor ho said he was some on low prices, he was.
But the very queerest thing of all was, that
Bill had no tali, dark, ruffianly rival, with a
scowling visage and black-whiskers, who flew
at him with a drawn Saggar and a horse-pistol
in each hand, and a muttered curse on his lips,
and crying wildly tor “Revenge.” Ha! ha!
and said “Death!” and “Villain, thou diost!”
Not any. There was another fellow in love
with Mollie, to bo sure, but he was a weak-eyed
young man, who had sandy hair and wore spec
tacles and a choker collar, and always looked
scared when you hollared at him. So, when he
saw that Bill bad the best of tho girl’s affec
tions, he looked all serene, and said : “Go in,
Billy, if you hanker for her ;’’ and as Bill was a
trifle on the hanker, he sailed right in.
So, William, you see, had no trouble at all—
and you couldn’t get np an agonizing novel
about him if you tried. He didn’t have any
urgent business that called him to a foreign
land, and so ho had to bid a fond good-!*’, and
swear always to bo true, and then go away and
forget her, and fall in love with a dark-eyed
Italian girl picking grapes in a vineyard, with
a square towel folded on her head, while his
forgotten and forsaken Mary gradually faded
and piued away, and baffled tho physician’s
skill, and grow paler, and at last, lying gently
down to die, while through tho open window
floated in the balmy odor of jessamine and
honeysuckle. And William didn’t come home
at last, and filled with deathless remorse, go
daily to tbo sweet cemetery and strew flowers
on her grave, and teach his children to lisp her
name. Not at all. That is tho way Mrs.
E. D. E. N. Southworth would havo done it,
but she wasn’t round. Billy was a butcher who
wore a white shirt and a shiny hat, and he
stayed at home and killed beef and sold it at a
big price, and stuck to Mary, and she kept
healthy and wasn’t much on the pine, or the
fade, while if any follows got to lurking
around, William went right out and batted
them in the eye, ho did.
And then, at last, when all was over. Mary
didn’t sit in tho room while they dressed her
in white, and mixed orange blossoms in hor
waterfall, and then go gently down staii® with
six bridesmaids at her heels, and stand up with
her William, and weep gently while she was
being marrifed by tho minister, and then get
lots of presents, and then go to her new bouse
and live through all the happy years with Billy,
and never know sorrow or trouble any more.
Why of course she didn’t, for it wasn’t her
style, you see.
She just rushed up stairs and put on her
pink muslin and her sun bonnet, and had nary
bridesmaid, and went to the magistrate’s and
never wept a particle, and got no presents but
fifteen cents from tho old man to pay her car
faro home, and when she got to tho magis
trate’s she just rose off the bench and told Bill
she didn’t see much use in splicing, and that
she didn’t like him any how ; and so she went
home, and Bill ho went with her, and told her
ha wasn’t sorry, as ho didn’t want her, and he
guessed she was hard on clothes, any how, and
so they never got married, and the whole thing
turned out wrong; but I couldn’t help it, for I
a’n’t going to put facts on record that a’n’t so.
But it a’nt a bit like any novel that I ever read,
so there must have been something strange
about this fellow and Mollie that I never could
find out, so I’ll have to let it slide as it is,
ANECDOTE OF BEN WADE.
Mr. James S. Brisbip thus speaks of Old Ben
Wade, in Forney’s Press :
On taking his seat, Mr. Wade found himself
surrounded by two despicable classes of men,
then very properly characterized by the news
papers as Southern fire-eaters and Northern
dough-faces. He had not been long in his seat
until he witnessed one of the scenes so common
in the Senate of those days. A Southern fire
eater made an attack on a Northern Senator,
and Wade was amazed and disgusted at the
cringing and cowardly way the Northern man
bore the taunts and insults of the hot-headed
Southerner. As no allusion was made to him
self or State, Mr. Wade sat still; but when tho
Senate adjourned ho said openly that if ever a
Southern Senator made an attack on him or
fiis State, while ho sat on that floor, he would
brand him as a liar. This coming to tho ears
of the Southern men, a Senator took early oc
casion to pointedly speak of Ohio and herpeo
ple as negro thieves. Instantly Mr. Wade
sprang to his feet and called the Senator a liar.
The Southern members were thunderstruck,
and gathered around their champion, while the
Northern men grouped about Mr. Wade. A
feeler was put out from the Southern side look
ing to a retraction, but Mr. Wade savagely de
manded an apology for the insult offered to
himself and to his State. The matter thus
closed, and a duel seemed certain. Tbo next
day a Southern gentleman called on tbo Sena
tor and asked him if he acknowledged the code.
“I am,” replied Wado, “in Washington in a
double capacity. I represent the State of Ohio
and I represent Bon Wade. As a Senator lam
opposed to dueling ; as Ben Wade I recognize
the oodo.”
“My friend feels aggrieved,”said the gentle
man, “at what you said In the Senate yester
day, and will ask an apology or satisfaction.”
“I was somewhat embarrassed,” continued
Senator Wade, “ by my position yesterday, as
I havo some respect for the chamber, but now
I am free to speak my mind, and I take this
opportunity to soy to you what I then thought,
and you will please repeat it to your friend,
that ho is a foul-mouthed old blackguard.”
“Surely, Mr. Wade,” said the astonished
man, “you do not wish me to convey such a
message as that.”
“Most undoubtedly I do,” replied Wade;
“ and I can tell you further, for your own ben
ofi», this friend of yours will never notice it. I
will not be asked by him for either retraction,
explanation, or a fight.”
The gentleman immediately rose, took his
bat, and left the room.
Next morning Mr. Wade came into the Sen
ate, and proceeding to his seat, deliberately
drew ftom under his coat two largo navy pis
tols, and, unlocking tbo lid of his desk, laid
them inside. The Southern men looked on in
silence, while the Northern members enjoyed
to the fullest extent the fire-eater’s surprise at
the war-like proceedings of tbe plucky Ohio
Senator. As Wade had predicted, no notice
was taken of tho affair of the day before ; he
was not challenged or asked to retract, but
ever afterward treated with the utmost polite
ness and consideration by the very Senator
who had so insultingly attacked him.
THE WINKING EYE.
A. Reputation Nearly 'Blasted by a uSarsa
parllla SUngorlsll Smartness.
(From the Cleveland, Ohio, Leader.)
We have no hesitancy in stating that, among
the able-bodied male adults of this city the
very common Summer beverage known as
“ soda water,” which is dealt out so unspar
ingly at every corner during the heated term,
is considered, to use their own language, a
“ thin drink." But while the ingenious mix
ture of wind and water is termed “thin,”
strong liquors, such as whiskies, are alto
gether too “ thick” for a steady warm weather
drink; and so the imbiber who must moisten
his flues with some liquid refreshment seeks a
pienJSnt combination of the two classes of
drink wliicli forms a happy combination that
exhilarates yet ft ftot intoxicating. It is cus
tomary among tnesa tibufous fed-Vetwoans to
enter a drugstore, call for soaijfaier, name
their syrup, at the same time giving S> wink to
the dispenser of “ slush,” who takes the gob
let, in which he places the syrup, then stoops
down beneath the counter or retires to a back
room, where, by some mysterious chemical
change, the contents are colored darkly, and
the soda is then let in upon the mixture,which
is handed to the customer with a wink from
the clerk. So much for the process; now for
the sequel. #
A venerable gentleman from the country,
who is a respected church deacon, a justice of
the peace, a member oi the “Band of Hope,”
and a Good Templar in his native village,
came to the city to trade a little in dry goods,
and purchase such agricultural implements as
he needed to plant and cultivate his Spring
crops. The deacon is strictly temperate, and
never looks upon the wino when it is red any
any more than he does when it is any other
color. Unfortunately, our old friend had suf
fered tram opthalmia in his early days, which
left him with an optical peculiarity, which
caused his left upper eyelid to drop every few
seconds, and which to those not familiar with
his infirmity, gave him the appearance of
winking intentionally.
The “Deac” is passionately fond of soda
water and such light beverages. He loves to
feel the gaseous compound coursing down his
throat, and creating internal commotions and
typhoons, that, however endurable by older
persons, throw babies into agony and require
prompt doses of peppermint; so after ha had
bought a few shovels, plows, hoes, rakes, and
thrashing machines, also a Dolly Varden for
his wife, he thought ho would fill up with soda
water and drive on toward home. He entered
a drug store, inquired the price of the desired
refreshment, then deposited his stamps and
awaited its mixture.
“What sirup do you want?” said the urbane
clerk, as he mopped off the marble counter
with the same towel he used a moment before
to remove the honest sweat from his noble
brow.
“Oh, give me sassaparilly; that is about as
healthy as anything, I guess.’, (Here the dea
con’s eyelid went back on him and dropped
quickly.)
“All right,” replied the fountain tender, as
be disappeared below the counter, and came
up a moment later with the drinking glass con
taining about three fingers of “sassaparilly,”
to which he added the other ingredients, and
handed it to the deacon. The latter drained
the contents to the very dregs, then brushed
the froth from his mouth, smacked his lips,
and said;
“ That sirup is a leetle stronger than they
generally make it, but my blood is out of order,
and I guess I’ll take another glass,” at the
same time his eyelid fluttered meaningly as
before.
The dose was repeated, and the soda water
bibber loft the store. About half an hour later
he entered another establishment where a sign
announced “ Soda and Mineral Waters on
Draught.” It was noticed the deacon walked
as if he had the string halt as ho entered the
door, and bis spectacles were upside down on
his nose. Ho called for “ Congress Water” at
this place, saying be ,‘ did not feel quite right,
and was afraid ho had used too much sirup in
his soda water, at the other store, or else he
was bilious.” His optical -weakness exhibited
itself as bo spoke, and returning the wink, the
clerk retired to a dark closet, then returning,
filled up a glass with plain “ Congress,” and
gave it to our now “ tightually slight” friend,
who swallowed it without a murmur.
How many “ sodas” the deacon stored away
before he left the city we are unable to say, but
he was found late in the day asleep in his
wagon, with a plow point for a pillow, and sev
eral yards of Dolly Varden calico gracefully
draped about his person as a covering. He
revived sufficiently to inform a stranger that
he had been “ drugged,” and, a subsequent
visit to the localities where he had taken soda
water, developed the fact that his unfortunate
habit of winking—a defect over which he had
no control—was the cause of all his trouble.
The soda water dispensers supposed him to bo
“one of the boys,” and everytime his eyelid
dropped, took the hint. The deacon escaped
the “jim-jams,” but says, hereafter he will
wear a blinder over that eye when he purchases
Summer drinks, or else write his order on a
slate.
ATROCIOUS WIFE MURDER.
A. Woman Kicked to Death by Her
Husband.
Ono of the most brutal wifo murders which
has boon recorded in the annals of crime has
formed the subject of a coroner’s inquiry at
Charterhouse, a small and secluded village sit
uated on the slope of the Mendip Hills, En
gland. A man named William Lease, who is a
miner in the employ of the West Mendip Min
ing Company, m a fit of jealousy kicked and
beat his wife to death. It appeared from tho
evidence tendered that Lease camo home on
Tuesday evening, 23d ult., and accused his
wife of having been seen on tho Hundred Acres
with a hundred fellows, and on her asking him
what he meant he knocked her down. She had
a baby in her arms at the time, and the infant
was taken away from her by one of the chil
dren who was present when the assault was
committed. The poor, woman ran to the
bouses in the neighborhood, but she did not
receive the protection she required. At the
last house she went to the door was locked
against her, and she was dragged thence to
to the garden in the rear of the house. He
there knocked her down, and then lifted her up
with one hand and knocked her down with the
other. While she was oh the ground he kicked
her several times in various parts of the body.
This brutal conduct he, repeated four times,
and eventually dragged her round the corner
of the house into the porch. He was subse
quently seen to fetch several buckets of water
from a brook which runs close by, and from
the condition in which the corpse was subse
quently found it is presumed be flung the
liquid over her.
A special feature of the sad affair is the
cowardice and apathy displayed by the neigh
bors, some of whom stood looking out of their
windows watching Lease murder his wife.
Several men were appealed to by tho children
of the deceased to interfere, but they declined.
A gentleman named Wood, hearing of the sad
tragedy which was being enacted, went to
Lease’s house, and found the woman reclining
in a chair quite dead. Ho spoke to Lease, who
stated very coolly that he had killed his wife
in a passion, and that he was ready to answer
for it. A constable was sent for, and the man
was given into custody and conveyed to Ax
bridge. The corpse presented a most pitiable
appearance, the face and head being covered
with wounds, and the body being dreadfully
bruised. Three front teeth were knocked out,
the upper lip and right ear were completely
cut through, and on the cheek, temple and be
hind tho oars were deep jagged gashes. There
were deep scalp wounds, and one cut peno.
trated right to the bone. The corpse was al
most entirely naked, and the unfortunate wo
man’s clothing was found torn up in pieces
and scattered about tho premises. The floor
was saturated with blood and water, and tho
walls of the house were bespattered with gore.
After hearing witnesses who deposed to the
above facts, the jury returned a verdict of
“ Willful murder” against William Lease. It
should be stated that there were no grounds
for Lease’s suspicion of his wife’s chastity,
and the general testimony of those who know
her best was that she was an exceedingly
steady and well-conducted woman. The pair
had up to this sad affair lived very happily to
gether, and both bore an irreproachable char
acter.
ARNOLD’S TREASON.
WAS HE OR HIS WIFE THE ORIG
INAL TRAITOR?
' A noted man used to inqu. , whenever he
heard of the perpetration of t ly great crime,
who the woman was. From tho expulsion of
Adam to the fall of Jim Fisk, “ women hayo
made much trouble.”
We wore reminded of this remark in reading
an article on Benedict Arnold’s wife, by James
Parton. She was the daughter of Edward
Shippen, an opulent Philadelphia merchant,
who was “inclined to the king’s side” during
the Revolution.
Margaret Shippen was a reigning ballo in
Philadelphia, in 1778, when tho British army
was there, and at a grand festival given on the
retirement of Sir William Howe from command,
she was ono of the beautiful young ladies
dressed in Turkish costume. She wore in nor
turban ono of the favors for which the knights
contended in the tournament, and Andre was
one of tho knights.
After the British left, Arnold assumed com
mand there, and married Margaret Shippen.
A year after, ha was in command at West
Point, and when the treason of Arnold was dis
covered, she appeared to bo frantio with grief.
This is Col. Hamilton’s story. But Col. Burr,
who had known her from infancy, declared in
bis old age that she knew all about Arnold’s
treason from the beginning. He also says that
when Mr. Arnold was sent from West Point to
her father’s house, she stopped at Mrs. Pro
vost’s over night. Col. Burr was there, and she
told tho colonel and Mrs. Provost that she had
deceived Gen. Washington and Col. Hamilton
by her frantic outcries, and declared that she
pt only knew of ths treason, but that it was
she who induced her husband to commit it.
This is Col. Burr’s story. The authorities of
Pennsylvania believed with Burr that she was
a traitor.
MUTUALLY
A FLUTTERING COAT-TAIL AND A
GUILTN CONSCIENCE.
(From the San Francisco Call.)
An incident occurred recently on one of the
river steamboats plying between this city and
one of tho interior towns, which may serve to
point a moral’if not to adorn a tale (coat-tail).
The steamboat not being run on tho strict
temperance plan, as some of the poorest ho
tels in the country are, the captain was under
the necessity of keeping an eye upon the crew,
to see that they wore not so severely associat
ed with ardent spirits as to be unfit to bo en
trusted with tho management of the boat, and
especially to see that “ the man at tho wheel”
was in a condition to nayigato her. While
■ taking observaliShs near the wheel-house, his
eye caught sight of a coat-tail fluttering in the
breeze on tho upper deck, behind the wheel
house. There was something unusual in this
occurrence, as tho wind was blowing violently
at the time ; it was after dark, and the place
was one to which passengers do not often,go,
even in the daytime.
The old salt’s suspicions wore aroused, but
he passed on below, and remained there for
some time. Returning to the deck nearly an
hour afterward, ho noticed the same ominous
coat-tail flapping in tho night air from tho re
gion of the wheel-house. Turning to a deck
hand who chanced to be near, he inquired of
him whether he had any idea what business
the owner of that coat-tail could have there, or
“What in thunder ho was doing there on that
upper deck there, anyhow?”
The. man shook his head dubiously, and
could not enlighten his captain on these ques
tions. The captain’s curiosity was excited;
bis suspicions wore aroused ; a grave responsi
bility rested upon him, for was he not captain
of the craft, and responsible for its safety ?
and what dark conspiracy might not bo hatch
ing there behind that wheel-house under cover
of the darkness ? The eyes of tho underwriters
were upon him, and he resolved to do his duty
in solving the mystery and nipping the con
spiracy in tho bud, if one existed. Accord
ingly, constituting himself a committee of one
to investigate tho matter, he squared away his
yards, put down his helm, and rounded the
corner of the wheel-house in gallant style,
when he confronted the young man with the
fluttering coat-tail, and “ shiver his timbers I”
it there was not a young lady with him. Now,
the gallant captain was prepared for a fight,
but this was an encounter wholly unexpected.
He was taken aback, embarrassed, and, figur
atively speaking, thrown on his beam-ends.
He turned red in the face and choked up, but
finally managed to stammer, softly :
“A pleasant evening.”
To which very mild and conciliatory sugges
tion, the young man fiercely and laconically
retorted:
“It’s a lie ; I dldn’i-kiss her.”
The captain retreated in haste from his in
vestigation to the cabin, where he reported
progress. Ever since, tho retort has been a
standing joke on board the steamboat. It has
become contagious, and bids fair to supersede
“ Chuck me in the gutter,” and other choice
morsels in the vernacular of slang.
Wo will open our budget this week with a
contribution from our friend “Spiv.,” who is
again in trouble.
SPIVINS thinkX HE smells a rat.
“Spiv., my dear fellow, “said my friend, Dick
Pungent, meeting me one morning as I was prepar
ing to go to the seaside lor the purpose of getting an
airing—“what has come over you? You don’t seem
as facetious as usual. You look, in fact, as though
you had been drawn through a knot-hole, and—
phewl how you do smell! Have you been imitat
ing the sweet south wind, spoken of by Bhakspore—
* stealing and giving odor’ in some corner grocery ?
I suppose you think, with him, that
• A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’ ”
I answered, with an attempt to be witty, which I
felt to be a signal failure.
“The fact is,” said Dick, maliciously keeping it
up, “ you have been among your friends, the bone
boilers, and have tarried a little too long in their
company.”
“ No,” replied I; “ the bones they deal in where I
passed the evening are bones of a different kind—
square ones, with little black dots on them, and
though they are not exactly boiled, they often get
people in a stew, and lead to many a broil in conse
quence.”
But lest it should be thought I am dealing In par
ables, let me explain.
I had been attending a sort of free-and-easy party
over at Lou. Silleck’s, breathing soft nothings in the
ears of the loveliest of her sex—namely, Lou’s pretty
sister, Lib, whose folks had given the party. I was
on my way to old Jellingses, further down, whore I’d
been promised a lively time, when she tapped with
her fan on the window pane, and I came in.
The room was crowded with company, and it was
a very Wot night, but she gave me a seat on the sofa
by her side, and pretty soon I had my arm around
her taper waist.
Just at this romantic moment there rose upon the
confined air the all-firedest smell that ever you did
inhale, filling the apartment withits effluvium.
“Been eating onions, Lib?” said I, with Lightened
eolor, as I saw that everybody in the room was look
ing my way, “or was it the beans?”
“Go ’way,” says she, giving me a push. “ It’s
you, and you know it.”
The beautiful girl blushed like a boiled lobster,
and pretty soon I observed a great bluffing of hand
kerchiefs, and all the girls in the room wore going
for their musk bottles. But it was no kind of use;
the odor kept on increasing, and the room got hotter
and hotter.
“Some fool’s been putting things on the stove,”
said Lou Silleck, as he proceeded to throw open the
doors and windows.
But it didn’t mend matters much. It kept on get
ting worse and worse, until I fancy I must have
borne a striking analogy to a theatrical agent, being
just then, decidedly, a (s)center of attraction.
I called for a bottle of cologne, but it was no go—
the aroma of that bouquet was not to be kept down
anyhow.
“ ’Fore gad,” said old Silleck, gasping at me like a
codfish, and looking sickish—“we shall all bo smoth
ered.”
“Turn him out! turn him out!” was the cry from
all parts of the room, “Skunk! skunk! Turn him
out.”
“ Must be the gas escaping,” said I, trying hard to
look innocent.
“Somebody’s busted ajar of assafoetida,” said
Jim Jeliings, grabbing for his girl to carry her out
of the room.
“It—it it must be your feet,” said Lib, turning to
me with a look like a dying mackerel, and burying
her face in her handkerchief.
“Pshorl” said I, desperately, “it’s a dead rat un
der the flooring.”
And then the fellows began to rip up the boards,
and the girls they fainted, and wore being carried
out one by one, and I was thinking of running for
my life—for I s’pose I must have looked guilty—
when all of a sudden Lib made a dash at my coat
tail and rammed her hand right into it, and drew it
out again quicker than a flash, all covered with soft
Limburger.
I had been presented with a slice of that delectable
compound by the man that keeps the Gambrinus
beer saloon opposite, and I was so happy in the com
pany of my adored that I’d forgotten it, and there I
had been sitting on it all the evening.
“ That’s your rat under the flooring, is it ?” says
Lib, giving me a swat with the cheese, and wiping
my face until eyes, nose and mouth were full of Lim
burger. , \
I shook her off, and broke for the door with a show
er ot chairs and spittoons flying after me, and have
not passed that way since.
Few persons, we feel satisfied, are acquaint
ed with tho beneficial effects of the “ water
cure,” and as we lay claim to the character of
a philanthropist, we hasten to enlighten them
on this most important subject. If we should
get a course of baths, free, from tho proprie
tor of some hydropathic establishment for the
publicity we have given the subject, it will bo
no more than we deserve, and will convince us
that there is a little gratitude left in. tho wat
ery depths of some hydropathists’ bosom.
Shakspere makes Macbeth ask : “ Canst thou
not minister to a mind diseased?” and the
Doctor gave him an evasive answer; but the
proprietor of this model water cure establish
ment gives no such indefinite replies, but
oomes boldly to the point;
“WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE WITH MAC
BETH ?”
I once asked of a hydropathic doctor who had been
vaunting the general excellence of his Bystem, and
was convinced that he could “minister with efficacy
not only to a body but also to a 'mind diseased.’ ”
“If we had him here wo should wake him at six
every morning,” replied the fanatical doctor, “ and
wrap him up in a damp sheet. Then, having further
put a couple of dry blankets round him, we should
leave him lying down for an hour or so. After a
good hour of the damp sheet, the bathman would un
wrap him, make him get up, and throw over him a
shoot, this time not damp but dripping wet, and rub
it into him all over from head to foot, until he bad
put him into a thorough glow. Then he would be
told to put on his tartan quickly, and take a sharp
walk. At eightjo’clocklbreakfast, consisting of milk,
or coffee and milk, bread and butter; eggs if abso
lutely required. At eleven we should give him a
Sitz-bad, and he would take another walk until din
ner time—half past one. After dinner we should rec
ommend him to make an excursion, if possible, in
society. At seven o’clock he would come to a light
supper consisting of eggs or a little cold meat and
stowed fruit, with milk, tea, or if it didn’t seem lo
disagree with him, wine—not hot stimulating wine,
but a glass or two of sound Bordeaux, Rhine wino,
or Moselle. At ten o’clock, if he had walked suffi
ciently, he would be quite ready to retire to rest;
and at six the next morning the man with the damp
sheet would be at his bedside again.” “And would
that sort of treatment really drive away remorse ?” I
asked. “Not entirely,” replied the doctor, “but it
would bring about such a fine bodily condition that
the pain would be reduced to a minimum, and what
might still remaiu of the sentiment would at least
not interfere with the performance of the ordinary
business of life.”
Shades of Garrick and Kemble, could you re
turn to this mundane sphere, what would you
think of Macbeth making bis appearance wrap
ped in a damp sheet, and still further encased
in a couple of dry blankets. Just fancy the
ghost of Banquo arising from tho floor when
Mac was comfortably squatted in his “ Sitz
bad” making his breakfast of milk, bread and
butter, and eggs, and laughing at Banquo's
feeble attempts to touch his conscience by his
presence.
Ino following poetical effusion la from, iha
pen of Mr. Frank Clive, the amusing contribin
tor to the Buffalo Daily Courier, and, we are
sure, will afford considerable amusement U
our lady readers who are at present very great
on “Dolly Vardenism
ISAAC WRESTLETH WITH “DOLLY VARDEN.”
Hannah and I of late had need of divers merchaud*
ize.
And—inasmuch as paying cash I heartily despise— *
We took some country produce lu our carryall, and
went
Our way into the elty, on commercial thoughts In.
tent.
To obviate the prejudice against old eggs, that day
We packed the most obnoxious eggs down in the
box, midway,
And Hannah—not to shock a prejudice she doa.
pised—
The streaks within her buttor-pail had cunningly
disguised.
We visited a store as soon as we arrived in town,
And Hannah signified her wish to purchase a net?
gown;
But with unseemly levity, which we ware loth to
pardon,
The clerk inquired if she would like to get a “ Dolly
Varden ?”
“A what I Nay, verily, young man,” said Hannah*
.with a frown,
“I want no Dolly Vardens 1 I simply want a gown I
How did thee get a notion within thy addled brain
That I should want a doU, or aught bo frivolous and
vain ?”
The clerk made haste to mollify Hannah’s inoroas*
ing ire, v
By showing fabrics that outvied the- dyes of ancient
Tyre—
Yes, gaudier than the wildest dreams of insane posy
gardens—
Which frantic patterns, ho explained, were known
as “Dolly Vardens.”
Those flaunting colors simply served my sober eyes
to vex;
But Hannah could not rise above the weakness ot
her sex.
I saw her eyes grow covetous, and heard her wo«
naan’s gab—
“ Young man I has thee no pattern of a 'Dolly Var
den* drab?”
The drab was soon forthcoming. Till then I’d never
seen
A drab quite so suggestive of blue,, pink, red, and
green I
I chafed thereat; but Hannah mildty bade ms ceas®
my blab,
Saying that there was a multitude of divers shades
of drab!
She took the Dolly Varden gown; a Dolly Varden
bonnet.
And a Dolly Varden shawl, with Dolly Varden posies
on it.
The woman did beguile me, till, like Adam in tho
garden,
I fell, and bought a hat and coat, extremely “Dolly
Varden!”
To call our raiment “plain,” much charity would
bo required;
For rarely in such liberal drab have Quakers been
attired.
Nay, Solomon, in all his glory, never was arrayed
Like one of us—in Dolly Varden garments— l’m
afraid.
But when ’twas time to pay, those eggs lay heavy on
my mind;
Yea, inwardly, I was like a reed shaken by the wind.
When I saw that clerk stop counting and heard him
grimly mutter:
“Superannuated eggs, and aromatic, piebald but*
ter!”
“Nay, friend,” said I, “thee’s ignorant of the pro
gress of the age.
These motley styles in everything are everywhere
the rage!
Thee sniffs, as if our country produce smelled like
some vile gutter;
Go to—they’re Dolly Varden eggs and Dolly Varden
butter!”
“Como, now,” said he, “that won’t go down!’*
“Marry! come up 1” cried I.
“ I do not wish to stigmatize thy statement as a lie,
But here’s one egg—l’ll show thee that it will go
down, straightway!”
I broke it. Wretched blunder! ’Twas in process of
decay!
Need I confess how this mishap destroyed all hop®
of barter ?
How, under Hannah’s scathing tongue, I suffered,
as a martyr?
Nay! Wherefore such a virtuous man’s abortive
strategy
Give carnal minds a chance to mock at his calamity?
It is sometimes a difficult thing to get a man
to admit that he has ever been drunk. “ Job*
ly,” “elevated” or “slightly sprung” ho may
have been, but never positively drunk—oh, no t
We wonder, then, if the individual referred to
in the following anecdote will make the admis
sion that he has been drunk:
A party of young fellows out on a spree in Chicago
had been imbibing very extensively of “burnt dis
trict whisky,” an article which is said to be imme
diately conflagratory in its character, and one of their
number became quite sick. Leaning against a lamp
post, he, with many groans and stretches, proceeded
to relieve himself of his heavy internal load. As ha
did so, a hungry little cur pup came wandering and
sniffing around the foot of the lamp-post. The suf
ferer soliloquized:
“Er know w’er er got that lobs’er salad; ’member
’stinctly w’er er ate those oys’ers; but damn me ’ter
know w’er ate that dog.”
Gratitude is a virtue which does not grew
with the freedom of a Canada thistle, nor is it
to be found blooming with tho same luxuri
anoe, but it is evidently eschewed completely
by the disciples of old Isaac Walton, who rc«
aide on the beach of the Potomac.
An old fisherman was caught in his “dug out” on
the broad Potomac by a furious gale. He paddled
to shore as fast as he could, scared to death, paddled
and prayed for mercy—prayed for mercy and pad
died until his canoe struck the beach. Then ho
turned to tho ga’e, shook his fist, and cried, “Blow
and be d—d, who’s afraid of you?”
The facility with which divorces can now bo
had in this country, and especially in Indiana
and Chicago, is a feature worthy of our pres
ent high state of civilization. Our lady friends
seem determined to avail themselves as far as
they can—and perhaps a deal further—of their
present opportunities to change their base, if
we may credit the following:
It is related by a distinguuished attorney that a
few days since, his gloomy-looking den, yclept his
office, was entered Uy a very charming presence,
which, on looking up, he discovered to be a lady.
She was very young, very pretty, and, of course, be
witching.
“Are you Mr. , the lawyer?” she asked.
“Yes, madam; pray be seated. In what way can
I serve you,” asked the lawyer, blandly.
“I want a divorce, sir.”
“ You want a divorce 1” cried the astonished coun
sel. “Why, who in the world could have the hear#
to separate from so beautiful a lady ?”
“No one that I know of. It is not the man wishes
to leave me; I want to leave the man.”
“Oh I I perceive; but why ?”
“ Well, nothing in particular; but, to tell you the
truth, I can do better. ”
It is needless to say that the divorce suit was not
brought.
We will now conclude with the following
SCINTILLATIONS.
A lady once visited the Roman Cath«
olic Bishop Miller, seeking spiritual counsel, and re
latedas apart of her experience, some remarkablo
visions with which she had been favored. “ Oh, fa
ther 1” exclaimed she, “aren’t they lovely? Aren’t
they heavenly ? -Isn’t it a blessed thing to be so priv
ileged ?” “Very lovely, very heavenly,” replied tha
old bishop, “and as you say it is a blessed privi
lege. But don’t you think you had better take a
little blue-pill ?”
A few Sundays since a teacher in
the Sunday school of an Episcopal church in Chi
cago said to one of her pupils: “James, what good
thing—what great sacrifice are you willing to giv®
up as a sacrifice during the Lent season ?” Jimmia
meditated about ten seconds and responded: “I
think I’ll give up going to Sunday-school.”
Rather corpulent .old lady: “I
would like a ticket for the train.” Booking clerk
(who thinks he will make a joke): “Yes’m; will yon
go in the passenger train or in the cattle train ?’•
Lady: “ Well, if you are a specimen of what I shall
experience in the passenger train, give me a ticket
by the cattle train, by all means.”
A broom with a heavy handle was
sent as a wedding gift to a bride, with the following
sentiment:
“ This trifling gift accept from me,
Its use I would commend;
In sunshine use the brushy part,
In storms the other end.”
At a hotel dinner a gentleman ob
served a person who sat opposite use a toothpick
which had just done the same service to his neigh*
bor. Wishing to apprise him of his mistake, he said:
“ I beg your pardon, sir, but you are using Mr. 'a
toothpick.” “ I know I am. Do you think lamno I
going to return it ?”
An Eastern man locked his wife up
in a room, and sent his son to her with a bone. Th®
youth said : “ Mother, father sent this up, and saya
here is a bone for you to pick.” The gentle mother
replied: “ Take it back, and tell him I say he is no#
your father; and that is a bone for him to pick.”
During the conference at Worce
ster, the fo.lowfng dialogue was heard between two
newsboys: “I say, Jim, what’s the meaning of so
many ministers being here altogether?” “Why,”
answeied Jim, scornfully, “they always meets one®
a year to exchange sermons with each other.”
A Spring poet discontentedly finds
a safety valve tor his afflatus, thusly:
'* Come on, yc frogs and birds,
Mosketoes, if ye please;
This being froze for eight long months
Is worse than killing fleas.”
A little girl, who had great kind
“ness of heart for the animal creation, saw a hen pre
paring to gather her chickitas under her sheltering
wings, and shouted, earnestly: “Oh, don’t sit down
on these chickens, you great ugly rooster I”
*‘Oh, sir,” said a woman, pleading
for her husband, who was before the police judge for
boating her with a pokor, “he wasn’t always thaß
way. There was a happy time when he only struck
me with his-fist 1“
An Irish paper concludes a bio
graphy of Robeapiera with the following sentence:
“ This extraordinary man left no children except hia
brother, who was killed at the same time.”
“ Old age is coming upon me rap-
Idly,” aa the urchin sail when he was stealing ap*
plea from an old man’s garden, and saw the owner
coming up, whip in hand.
“ Wouldn’t you like to be a woman
when you grow up?” “No,” answered young fool
years old. “Why I” “Baousa women ean’i UuW
summer-seta**’
7

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