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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, October 13, 1872, Image 7

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Sunday Edition. Oct. 13
FA ASSR’S GIRLS.
Up in the early morn lug.
Just at the peep of Jsy,
fitr •-iur.i.r ■ c milK in tao dairy,
Tv.ininj the cows awa. —
fjwcv.m l .: tue floor in the kitchen
Maying the boos up stall’ 3 *
Washing the breacim-t d.shes,
De:'/nog iu© uarlor chairs.
Bru the crambo from the pantry,
H; ■.. .? the eggs a» t o barp,
Roariiiig the me.u for din:.er.
Spinning tho stockin - a.-r,
.Spi"'-'mi r ! osuow v.hh -mVn.
Down mi ua bashes balow.x
.Eanso' king every meadow
W 're the red strawberries grow.
Star t;u ■ circott<»rs for Sunday,
Cru ling the snowy cream,
Rir.-mg the pais an strainer
Dcvra in mj running mream;
Fe '• ng tho geese and poultry,
Main .u i>e puddings and Dies,
Jogghm th© little one’s cradle,
ihivmg away the flies.
•Grace in every motion,
Muse in every tone,
Beau in form and feature,
To • ■ ;s mijiit covot to own—
Chci.i. hat rival the roses,
Tee/' Mio wniiest of pear:s;
One of }!• -•c country maidens is worth
A score A your giddy girls.
'HD. ffIWCTPANIOH
BY MN. SILT.
Vieve Maurice, twenty years old, friendless,
poor as th traditional church mouse, in every
thing but her pride. It wasn’t a very encour
aging picture, at least that was what I decided
wnile taking survey of the a'oresaid Vieve in
in the mirroi of my dressing-bureau.
Things we. t looking dark, as far as my pro
spective broand butter was concerned, bo
cause I couldn't go out sewing, and, as I rath
er admired -hug Herod’s little game with the
infante of In - day, of course I couldn’t ’‘gov
erness ” any.
Judge, the’*., wliat a God-send to me that lit
tle Herald a< voi tlsement was.
WANTED— A YOUNG LADY, A3 COM
panion to an e dcrly invalid lady. Apply for two
days at No 23 street.
Didn’t I settle my sailor hat upon my rebel
ious hair in a. hurry? May be it was a trifle
on one side, but that fact seemed to give me a
little more confidence in myself, so it was ex
cusable. Au Lour later found me at “ No. 23.”
where a vicious pull at the door-bell brough’
not an ogre, as 1 felt as though it might be —
but a footman in gray livery.
“Not shoddy,” 1 thought, as I inspected his
buttonship, and volunteered the information
that “I had c in?J in answer to the advertise
ment.’ That was sufficient, and in a monrant
he ushered me into the presence.
A haughty old lady she was, and her keen
dark eyes took iny five feet and odd inches for
what they \v,-re worth in a very short time. I
trembled at her preliminary catechism, but
she handed me a volume of Schiller, and bade
me read to ;..x, hen my heart went into the
very toes of i .-y buttoned boots. I soon forgot
my fright in tho delicious lines, and the tell
tale tremble :.. my voice gradually quivered
away, and viien it died on tho last line, mad
am© said:
“Miss . you will suit me,” with so
much emphasis that I dropped Schiller with a
bang that c. rtio .Jy wasn’t calculated to soothe
the nerves of ;.n invalid.
When I bad re scued that unfortunate poet
from a temper ary oblivion beneath the otto
man, Madam _• Falkner—for that was her name
—added:
“If you a..;•. pi my terms, Miss Maurice, we
shall leave ! -r our country place on the day
after to-morrow ; so, A you can be prepared to
come hero to-morrow evening, I shall be
pleased.”
“ Accept hr i terms I” S7ie didn’t dream how
glad I would have been just then for the lone
liest spot on earth, if I might call it “ home
but the lump in my throat was choked down,
and I replied that it would suit me perfectly,
and bade my adieux in short order.
I wanted to ehout and throw up my hat out
side the door, but I reflected that it might be
an unusual proceeding, so I consoled myself
by giving the much enduring “sailor” an ex
tra tilt over ixy i ft eye; but the desire to cel
ebrate waxed strong within me, until I, with
reckless and unpardonable extravagance,
bought a whole pound of French candy.
When on/’ has few preparations to make,
they are very soon made; and after settling
my weekly . •■■ar-i bill with tho amiable Mrs.
Brown, and bestowing a miraculous Jumpmg-
Jack upon bti *ou and heir, I was ready ibr
Paradise.
Next evening found me at No. 23, and a p’.ace
alter my own houvUt was. 1 drank in every
detail oi the iicious little supper that I sat
down to in company with madame, as if it was
some rare pic:.nro.
Silver and old china, the dainty shell-like
cups frothn g with chocolate, umber, and gold
en jellies qu.’. ..ring like great jewem in then
crystal stands, delicate, brown-broiled birds,
vnd over ail the perfume of a lovely handful of
(dowers. Ah tins intoxicated me like wine, so
).iat before I had done dreaming over that lit
lle poem of u supper, the bronze Pan on tho
Mantel sound od ten notes upon his tiny pipes,
while the l ’.if appeared with bedroom can
dles.
It bad been an exciting evening, and I drop
ped into dr .am a that were a funny combina
tion, Where j’ Ly pnrt japoumna Inrnrod a bn In
around the handsome old Greek face of Mad
ame Falku-
A day’s i io through emerald valleys, and
beneath snadow-bdlted hills brought us to
Tanglewood, tor that was iL? name of cur des
tined stopping-place, and if No. ‘23 seemed good
to my sou), this was better, lor there was more
of it. Sweej sof velvety In wn, grand old woods,
and shimm- - bits of river here and there.
I leaned far -..;t <;l the window, and feasted my
eyes until nig t foil ; and when madame rang
tor lights and du-ured me to play for her, I
poured my ?• art out in dreamy nocturns and
wierd old German airs until I stopped from
sheer exhaustion, and swinging around on the
music-stool e;.me face to face with—well, a
man.
I think I caught my breath in time to ac
knowledge th. stately “My son, Miss Maurice,”
with which I was stunned, but I wouldn’t take
®ath upon it, by any means.
How did I know that she had a son? and
why didn’t he have rod hair and freckles, in
stead of being a mixture of Apollo and Her
cules which v.as altogether bewildering? Had
I not road all manner of discouraging stories
about humble companions and governess s
who had been pursued by handsome young
Lucifers, like bo no doubt was, and how the
companions, etc., bad feebly snubbed, and toe
Lucifers wouldn’t stay snubbed, until, presto,
the highborn and ditto-tempered mother steps
in with a tragical “Minion! would you entrap
tty son ?” when the trap was of another setting
entirely? Of course I cad, and when I looked
up into his eyes (they grand, if they did belong
to a “Lucifer”) and heard him say, “You play
exquisitely, Miss Maurice,” I said, mentally
and severely :
“Vieve, my child, you must wither that
young man at every opportunity.”
I wondered if ho guessed my thoughts just
then. I’m afraid he did, for the ends ot his
mustache twitched suspiciously, and tho great
dark eyes 1 ;-iughed at me in a most tantalizing
manner. Then Genevieve Maurice collected
herself and said:
“If you will excuse me, I believe I am tired
and sleepy. Good night,” with a freezing bow
in the direction of Mr. Falkner.
My mornings were always busy, but from
two o’clock until five in the afternoon the time
was my own, and I wandered at my “own
sweet will.”
Of course, I decided to keep out of Guy Falk
ner’s way, but then one reckons without their
host sometimes, and certainly I did then, be
cause nothing short of the black vail in some
convent would have been successful.
If I walked down to the river bank, and sat
down comfortably to read, a vision of mustache
and cigar would rise up like the fabled genii,
and would I permit him to sit down by me?
whereupon I would reply that Mr. Falkner was
oertainiy privileged to sit upon his own ground,
and gathering up my dignity along with my
dress-skirt, take them into the house. Ten
minutes perhaps of undisturbed peace in the
library, when—enter Guy and his eyes. I was
fated, and felt in every bone of my body that
madame would discover the state of affair with
that composed “putting tho saddle on the
wrong horse,” which was always a part of those
little dramas, and have me and my baggage
transported to Botany Bay.
So I snubbed with such renewed vigor, that
one day, after throwing ma a box of chocolates,
and begging me to look at him once after I’d
oaten some, to which I solemnly protested 1
would not, be inquired with great anxiety if he
shouldn’t send Perkins up with the grind
stone, in case my temper needed sharpening.
It was very aggravating—but I ate the choc
olates. Life went very- smoothly then. Mad
ame was very kind, my duties were not hard,
and I took the “ goods the gods provided” with
great nonchalance, with a few exceptions, such
as Guy’s kissing me behind the orange trees
in the conservatory, which rather “ took” me.
“ Guy Falkner !” I exclaimed, forgetting the
cherished “Mr.” in my wrath, “ what did you
do that for ? You’re a—a ”
“Rhinoceros,” he suggested, with mild hu
miliation ; and when 1 passed him, with all the
acorn I was capable of expressing, caught my
hand in his firm, close clasp, and whispered :
•‘l’d be a whole menagerie for another like
that.”
Have I been neglecting madame all this
lime? Well, it is only this once. I never
swerved an inch from my duties, but read,
■ewed or sang, as the case demanded, doing
my best to please her.
She never seemed to catch the golden glim
mer of tho thread of romance, which, in spito
of all my efforts to the contrary, steadily wove
itself into the warp and woof of my life-webb.
I was thankful that she did not, because, for
the life of me, I couldn’t help blushing when I
caught those dark, fathomless eyes fixed on
me ; and it certainly was an unheard of thing
for mo to pour salad oil in my soup, and pepper
my ice cream, all because Guy Falkner’s hand
some brown hand brushed mine in handing the
sugar. It was high time something inter
fered, or there was no knowing what mignt
come of it.
Every girl has a streak of idiocy in her com
poa.’iion. where men are sure to reach is, but I,
deluded creature, ha I fondly bugged the belief
that my father’s daughter was an exception,
:t was very annoying to find that I wasn’t
anything of the sort.
J oat evening, whoa I went to my room,
i i::erc- lay a groat royal passion-flower on tho
I w:mmw-ledge, with a twisted paper on tho
“Hweets to the sweet,” I knew he was
bi'lt.ug somewhere in tae shrubbery, watching
; ■ rise and fail or breath, that s irred the
f ro-leaves on my breast; pride rose, and 1
“ i’ I show him I don't care for him.”
The kttie clock ricked, “You do, y-u do/”
■ j'.'-.A by leaf tho passion-flower float’d out of
the ~imiow. I crushed the last petal rcmors..-
!e.'.s y, then went to my little escritoire, took
pul •: photograph, and, standing wjere he
could see, kissed it, tw'ce, three times, and,
W’.h a lingering look, put it back.
i t was only Uncle Peter’s, who was bald and
fat, and who, m company with his wife and
four children, was getting yellow as his own
rupees out in India ; so you may imagine that
tbp act cost me an effort, ana then 1 went to
bed.
Next morning, when I entered the breakfast
room, the table was only laid lor two. Not a
question did I ask, though 1 know since that I
must have looked like a living interrogation
point. *
Then, after sipping her coffee, madame said,
as slowly as if I wasn’t dying to hear :
“Guy left this morning for a long tour, and
I cannot sea what possessed him. He is a
creature oi impulse, Genevieve.”
I said, “Is ho?” but I thought, “Vieve, my
dear, he won’t get you to take a part in any of
his little impulsive dramas; you may be glad
he’s gone, for you might have been.”
Feminine curiosity was strangled in its birth,
and I didn’t even ask where he’d gone.
After that we wore very happy, madame and
I, m our quiet way. Her health was gradually
improving, and so we took long drives in the
cunning crimson-lined pheeton, with the two
shaggy black ponies ; and afternoons I took
my resurrected sketch-book, and haunted the
woods and river banks like a very brunette
wood-nymph, if wood-nymphs ever are bru
nettes.
Six months had gone since “Guy’s flittin’,”
and one bright November afternoon I wan
dered off with my usual companion, the sketch
book, and Guy’s great Newfoundland dog, who.
when I had found a lovely bit of landscape, and
settled myself to work, established himself on
my dress-skirt, and pushed his cold black nose
up into my lap, to the great detriment of the
line arts.
Looking down into his great soft eyes made
me think—just a little—of his absent master,
and somehow that sketch didn’t prosper ; but
the distance melted into a shadowy face, with
great dark eyes, and a shadowy mustache. Very
ridiculous of me, certainly; the Newfoundland
gave me such a look that I imagined ho under
stood it, so I tore the leaf out, saying (and
here let me observe that talking to one’s self
is a great mistake) :
“Vive Maurice, you are a goose.”
Then some ono took forcible possession of
me, saying:
“Vieve Maurice, you are the dearest little
goose in the world to me.”
I didn’t scream, but—it was because I hadn’t
the opportunity, and after I collected myself,
which Guy (of course it was Guy) insinuated
would not take long, he inquired, in his most
beseeching tones :
“ Are you going to marry me ?”
“ What would your mother say ?” was my an
swer.
“Blessyour heart,” he said, “I told her I in
tended to, and she consented with all tue pleas
ure in the world.”
“You certainly had very sanguine hopes of
success.”
And, with that, I tried to look vicious, with
out success.”
It didn’t alarm him any, for, drawing my
hand through his arm, he said :
“ Vicve, what made you throw my heart
out of the window along with the passion
flower ?”
“ Because I thought you were flirting, and I
would ”
“Be a little heathen,” he interposed. “And
whose picture did you kiss until I was so angry
that I swallowed half a cigar without knowing
it ?”
“ Uncle Peter’s,” I replied.
And Guy, after calling me a villain of the
deepest dye, continued bis remonstrances in a
way that 1 really cannot put on paper.
Madame Falkner embraced me, and called me
“Daughter” before I had time to be frightened,
and I have never yet regretted the day that I
became her “ companion, '*
P. S. This last was written under protest.
Guy was looking over my shoulder.
A VISIT TO THE DEAD.
TUSi FREAK OF A MELATOCHOLV
MAD KING.
A rrcently published work gives tho follow
ing interesting account of a singular visit made
by Charles the Second of Spain to the tomb of
his ancestors :
In vain did the court physicians expostulate,
and represent to the monarch the fatal effects
which might be consequent upon such a spec
tacle in his impaired state of neaith ; tho influ
ence of a morbid longing was too powerful to
be controlled ; and tae tombs of the three illus
trious personages whom he indicated were ac
cordingly opened, a fact which was no sooner
announced to Charles, than, leaning upon the
nrm nf tho n rrhnni Pnrto-Carrero, supported
on the other side by the Count de luomui j, uua
followed by his confessor, he slowly proceeded
toward tho gloomy vault tenanted by his an
cestors. The way wound down an almost im
perceptible slope, arched over head, and along
this high road to the faded glories of the past,
die monarch, who was so soon to lay down his
own among them, passed slowly and feebly
forward, with trembling knees and laboring
breath, sinking beneath a vague sense of
terror which numbed the slight remains of his
already faning strength ; but at length the
pilgrimage was ended, and he stood among
the shadows of spent centuries—among shiv
ered sceptres and broken shields. A score of
enameled lamps, suspended above the long
line of monuments surrounded by their kneel
ing or reclining effigies, cast a pale and sepul
chral gleam over the sculptured marble ; and
a close and fetid odor—that savor of death
which not even the gems of Arabia or tne
spices of the East can wholly counteract, and
winch breathes into tae nostrils of the living,
tho atmosphere of mortality—appeared to
float about the pendant lights, and to cling in
vapory clouds around the lofty tombs.
Cnarles the Second, panting, pale, and awe
struck, ultimately paused before a sarcophagus
indicated by his confessor; who said, iu a
hoarse whisper :
“Site, you desire to look once more upon
Philip the Fourth. He lies before you.”
The dying king bent for an instant over the
withered body of his father ere he gasped out :
“May your rest be indeed as deep as it ap
pears. Perchance I may have irritated your
spirit by bequeathing inconsiderately the king
dom which 1 inherited from your hand. Speak,
Philip! are you satisfied with me?”
“ Charles 1” exclaimed the stern monk at his
side, “ beware of sacruege. Ask no questions
ot the dead. Silence is the privilege of the
tomb, which must speak only to the eyes, and
to the soul. Its best lesson is that nothingness
oi human vanity which you now see before you.
Profit by it, and pray.”
“I humble myself before God,” replied the
king, submissively ; and then, having embraced
the body of his father, he murmured : “Now
lead me to my mother.”
“She sleeps beneath this arch,” said the
confessor.
Again Charles bent down to gaze upon a
dead parent; but this time he started back
appaled, and, covering his eyes with his hands,
gasped out:
“Merciful heavens! she yet scowls upon
me! Her face still bears the impress of the
anger with which she first beard me aver that
I was about to transfer the sceptre of Spain to
her own family, unhappily become her ene
mies. Mother, forgive me! I had indeed
obeyed your will; but the Prince of Bavaria is
now, like yourself, the tenant of a tomb. Fare
well, mother! may your troubled spirit be ap
peased !”
And the unfortunate prince pressed his pale
lips to the fleshless cheek of the skeleton, ere
ho turned toward the next tomb before which
his confessor paused.
It was that of tee ill-fated Maria Louisa, of
Orleans, who had been cut off in her youth,
her beauty, and her tenderness, by the hand
o: a secret assassin ; and who now lay wasted
and ghastly in her shroud.
“And this, then,” said Charles, as he lifted
from the livid brow a portion of its velvet
covering, “is all that is left of the loveliness
by which I was once thralled ! Of the wife who
was once my idol 1”
As he continued to gaze earnestly upon the
moldoring remains, a convulsive shudder
passed over his frame, and, raising himself
suddenly, he asked, in a hoarse whisper :
“Who talked of poison?”
“No one, decidedly, sire,” eagerly answered
the Cardinal, with a blenched lip. “In the
name of Heaven, let me entreat .your majesty
to leave this place, and return to the palace.”
“No, no,” said Charles, whose agitation
visibly increased; “I heard the word dis
tinctly ; a fearful reproach was murmured
from the coffin of my wife. Leave me to tell
hor how I loved her—how I mourned for her
—let me embalm her cold remains with my
tears, and yield up my own spirit by her side.”
“Forget not that, although a monarch, you
are still a Christian,” said his confessor, in a
cold, hard accent, which formed a strange con
trast with the impassioned anguish of the un
happy king ; “profane not the dwelling of the
dead with the thoughts and the words of sin,”
and he grasped the arm of his penitent to lead
him away.
“C.ose the tomb of my mother,” exclaimed
Charles, as he shook off the clasp, and raised
himself to his full bight; “I will look on her
no more. Mana Louisa ! victim of hate—of
poison I Ah 1 close my mother’s tomb 1”
And, as he repeated these words in a faint
scream, exhausted by sickness, fatigue, and
emotion, ho tell senseless over an empty sar
cophagus which yawned cold and void beside
him.
“It is his own,” said the monk, unmoved by
the melancholy spectacle ; while the cardinal
raising the insensible monarch in his
desired the attendants to bear him carefully
from the vault; and a few moments suosv-
I ii, retrod the
quently the melancholy procession than it
gloomy passage even more sdontly nyeved
I had been previously traversed, and co. * , , ver
Charles to the chamber which he was u ’ » n 0
again to leave with life. In an tlier month .
lay in the narrow tomb which had before re
ceived him for an instant in mimic death.
WHO KILLED HIM?
ACTORYOF TiiENEW ENGLAND "E'L
BY FAISRIE A.
“Only two weeks more, Jennie, and you’ll be
my wife,” and the'stalwart young fellow drew
tne girl close to his breast, and kissed her
loudly.
“True enough,” was the arch reply, “and ,
don’t forget that there’s two weeks yet for you
to behave yourself. Father mightn’t like to ;
see you too free with your kisses, and he’s just i
there in the boat-house.” ;
The scene was a New England coast, with a
fisherman’s humble-cottage and boat-house m j
tho immediate foreground, and distantly j
backed by a moderate sized village. The speak- i
era were Jennie Lee, the oaugnter and sole ]
relative of the owner of the cottage, and Will j
Gardiner, bis assistant and employee. Living |
under the same roof, it was only natural that
Will should fall in love with the rosy-cheoked, j
warm-hearted girl, or that she should have (
contracted an equally affectionate regard ior [
her stout, handsome, manly companion. <
And as they stood reading m each other’s eyes
the same story of mutuaf love and trust that
more pretentious pairs have read, they were a j
picture worth an artist’s sketching. Will, with
his stalwart frame, bared, muscular arms, and ,
sun-browned face; Jenny, with her pretty, (
childish face, rounded figure, and bare feet. j
“There, Will!” suddenly exclaimed Jennie, i
disengaging herself from his enfolding arms,
“I told you to behave yourself. Here comes j
Abel Berton, and, likely as not, he’s seen you
hugging me.” f
“And what if he has?” replied Will, defi- ]
antly..
“You know he’s a rival of yours, Will,” ■
laughed Jennie, and then added, more serious- f
ly •. “and I’m afraid of him—not for myself, |
but for you, Will. When I told him, tho other
day, that our wedding day was set, and he j
mustn’t pester me any more with his love- j
making, he got as black as a thunder-cloud, j
and muttered more threats against you than I t
can remember.”
Further conversation between’tbe lovers was (
precluded by the approach of Abel Berton. He ]
was a sullen-looking follow, with a sly,.slouch- j
ing gait, and none of the outward manliness of
■Will Gardiner. A comparison between the <
two men confirmed the good sense of Jennie’s
choice. ]
“Good morning, Abe,” said Will, frankly.
“ Wbat brings you hero so early?”
“That’s nothing to you,” was the surly re- ,
ply. “ I’ve bus'ness with Mr. Lee.” ,
With this he passed on and entered tbs boat
house, where Jennie’s father was at work. He
was, also, a fisherman, and his errand related
to tho borrowing of nets, or something of that
nature. In a few minutes hs emerged, to find
Will and Jennie in company with a stranger, a
well dressed man of middle age.
“Can you row me out, late this a ternoon,
for an hour’s fishing?" he overheard th.
stranger say :
“Yoe, str,” replied Will; “at what time shall 1
I be ready for you ?”
“At six o’clock, and I shall expect you to ■
row ms to a good spot for lively sport.”
“Don’t fear for that,” said Will, in good ;
spirits at the prospect ot earning a half dollar
or so, “ it’s my business to know where the J
scaly fellows can be caught.”
The stranger turned away toward the village, i
and Abe Berton slunk off with murderous 1
thoughts in bis heart.
“Curse them both 1” so ran hts mutterings, J
“ he lor cutting me out, and shs for her airs
over me ; and now comes a chance that I’ve
been waiting for, if I can only plan it all out. i
The stranger had a gold watch, I saw that, and
likely a pocket-book crammed full of money.
Will’s to row him out alone, and they’ll go
along tho beach beyond therookypoini—that’s
where the best fisbing is. I’ll be pitch dark
afore they’re through. Yes, that’ll do. So
here goes for robbing Jennie of her lover and
the man of his watch and money.”
The stranger kept his appointment promptly
at the hour named, and found the young fish
erman ready with his boat. With an admiring
look at Jennie, whose bare, plump arms pushed
the boat from the shore and threw a kiss to
her lover, he seated himself in the stern, while
Will took the oars. A few strokes sent the
boat around the rooky point that Abe had al
luded to in bis muttered plans,.and# the girl
walked back to the cottage and 'finished pre
paring the supper for her father.
She had scarcely disappeared within the cot
tage, when Abe Berton stealthily advanced to
ward the now deserted boat house, and entered.
Ho knew the place thoroughly, and was not
long in finding what he wanted—a long-bladed
knife, used in the mending of tackle, etc. He
held it up and examined tao handle. Upon it
was carved, in uncouth letters, tae name of
Will Gardiner.
“ That’s the one,” said Abe, exultingiy, “and
a good idea it was ot mine to get ir. Now to
got away with it without being seen.”
Eirst peeping ou« of the door to see that no
body was about, he stole out and away with
tho knife in his pocket.
I. anrir rnnidlv, and it was not long
before Abe deemed it sufficiently so i v . n.°
execution of his plot. Walking along the
beach, he passed aiound the rocky point, and
kept on until ho saw the dim outline of the
boat and its two occupants. It lay but a short
distance from the shore, and he was too good
a swimmer to doubt h.s ability to reach it
silently and unseen. Hastily removing his
clothing, he laid them on the beach. Then he
waded in, and struck out, with the stolon knife
held between bis teeth, m the direction of the
boat.
Will Gardiner, tired of a day’s hard work,
lay idly across a seat, win e bis companion in
dulged iu the sport of fishing. All was silent
until Will heard a groan of agony that brought
him quickly to a silting posture. He was just
in time to seo the stranger fall backward from
the boat, with a red stream of blood gushing
from his side. For an instant—so sudden and
unexpected was the whole occurrence—lie sat
still, fairly benumbed with horror. Then he
leaned far over the edge of the boat, on the
side from which the stranger had fallen, and
peered into the darkness, but he could see
nothing, and hear nothing but the cautious
stroke of the swimmer rapidly dving out in the
distance toward tae shore. Wliat could he
do? Ho paddled the boat around, but could
not find the body. He called out, but there
was no answer. He was about to row home
for lights and assistance, when the flashing of
oars and the hum of voices heralded the ap
proach of two boats rowed by a party of fisher
men. They c.trried lanterns, and the white
face of Will Gardiner attracted their notice at
once.
“What on earth’s the matter, Will?” asked
one ; “ you loos as white as a ghost.”
In a few disconnected words, be told them
all be know of the matter.
“The body must be about here somewhere,”
said Mark Landon, one ot the arriving party;
“row about, boys, and search for it.”
A search of five or ten minutes, with the aid
ol the lanterns, was rewarded with success.
The dead body of the stranger, with a fatal
stab in its side, was drawn into the boat in
whicn be had set out but an hour before. As
they laid the corpse m the bottom of the boat,
an object that glittered m the lamplight at
tracted Mark Landon’s attention. It was the
biood-stained knife with which the murderous
blow had been struck.
“What’s this ?” said Mark, holding tbe knife
up to a lantern. “Here's the thing that did
it, and Wil) Gardiner's name is on the handle.”
At this Will sprang forward and gazed upon
the weapon.
“Yes, it’s mine,” be said, “but, so help me
Heaven 1 I don’t know how it came here. I’m
sura I ‘eft it in tbe boat-bouse this afternoon.”
He looked around upon the facas ot tae fish
erman as it vaguely expecting a solution of the
mystery, but only stern looks of d strust and
suspicion met him. Ha read their verdict read
ily enough. They believed him to be the mur
derer.
“You can’t believe I did it!” he exclaimed,
as ha comprehended tbe terribly convincing
nature of the proof; “you can’t th.nk Will
Gardiner’s a murderer 1”
And they certainly did not wish to believe it,
but they could come to no other rational con
clusion. The two men had gone out in the
boat together, and one had been found stabbed
with toe knife ot the other. But one opinion
could be formed—Will Gardiner was a mur
derer.
The boats were rowed to the beach at Lee’s
cottage in silence, and tbe body was piaced on
a rough bench in the boat-house. Will had
followed tbe others mechanically, his faculties
almost dazed by his terrible situation.
After the body had been piac>don the bench,
the men paused as if undecided what to do
next. All looked to Mark Landon, who was a
sort of leader among them, for some sugges
tion.
“Will,” said Mark, at length, “we all know
you tor an honest, upright fellow, ana we don’t
like to think you did this; but it looks bad, and
we shouldn’t be doing our duty if we didn’t
arrest you. We’ll leave two of us with you
until morning, and then the coroner will be
here.”
This plan was carried out, and through the.
long and sleepless night Will brooded over the
terrible affair. Jennie was by his side, and no
breath of suspicion clouded her words of sym
pathy and hope.
“I’m sure it’U come out all right, Will,” she
said; “so don’t give way. And I can’t help
thinking that Abe Berton did it.”
This idea had not suggested itself to Will,
but now it seemed feasible. He knew that his
rival’s hate was strong enough, and his heart
evil enough, for such a bloody deed.
At length morning came. During the day
an inquest was held, and Will Gardiner was
charged by the jury with the crime and re
moved to tbe county jail. The fact that the
murdered man’s watch and pocket-book were
missing, explained the motive for the deed,
and, although neither could be found, the evi
dence ag.uust the unfortunate prisoner was
regarded as conclusive.
1 Siad indeed were the days that followed for
NEW YORK DISPATCH.
Jennie Lee, Convinced of her lover’s inao
cem e., bn- powerless to aid biin—convinced of
Abe Berron's guilt, but-poworiesa to prove it—
she w.is nearly wild wiin grief. Bui she was
too vigorous of body and sp it to grieve idly.
She hud no money to lure Bkilliul J ? defense
tor Wfil, but sbe resolved co use ii r own ex
•cions. Wisely refraining from expressing
suspicions, and thereby LNghtcn’cig tbe
‘ urdcrer into fiig'it, she determined to
■*“ * movements carefully.
at have the watch and money hid
> ’ E - 3 reasonel, “and by washing
«'r I mav some clue. Most
: \ 1 1<> “’in tnc nignt, and thai’s
r.'.cx.y no wourn » 05
’ succession she flitted
her bed each morning, -tv ; |
Un the fourth night, wrapped
cloak, she wok her station in the
of a stone wall a few rode from k e “ oll3 x o .
Weary and sleepy, she sat down on the
and was soon fast asleep. When she.
tae moon had gone down, and by thac 3he
know it was nast midnight. .
Glancing toward tbe house she saw a light
in Aba Barton’s bed-room. This served to
rouse her sleepy faculties, and sue stole cau
tiously to the window from which- the feeble
light struggled. It was covered on the m-side
bv a tattered curtain, through which sne eau- <
tiously peered.
Tae sight that she saw set her heart to beat- i
ing wildly. There was tbe murderer bending
over the floor, from which he had removed a
broken piece of board. From the bole thus .
exposed, be drew a watch and a pocketbook.
Success had crqwned her vigil, but what
should she do now? The quick-witted girl was
nob long in deciding. The nearest dwelling '
was about a quarter of a mile distant, and to- ,
ward it she ran as fast as her tired feet would
carry her. Arrived there, a vigorous rap
brought two men to the door, and to them she
hurriedly told what she had seem
“Come with me, quick!”she cried, “ and see j
if I haven’t told tbe irutn.”
Half doubting Jennie’s sanity, they did as <
she requested. They bad nearly reached the j
house, when she told them to stop.. <
“He’s coming out,” she whispered excitedly.
“Don’t you see—and he has a shovel over his ,
shoulder. He’s going to bide tho stolen ■
things. See! He’s coming this way 1”
Tbe three hastily hid themselves behind a '
fence until Aba had passed, and then stealthily
followed him. He soon turned from- tha road 1
into an unfrequented grove, and there they 8
saw him commence to dig a hole in the ground. 1
He worked quickly and nervously, and had 1
soon buried the watch and money, which he ]
had enclosed in a rough wooden box. He then
returned to his bedroom, and went to bed.
A consultation was held, and it was decided I
to wait until morning before doing anything.
In tbe morning the two men made tee facts ■
known to tho proper authorities, the treasure
was exhumed, and Abe Berton was arrested. •
Wiil Gardiner’s release, of course, followed,
and his marriage to Jennie was not postponed i
after all.
A VILE~BUFFIAN.
VALUE DF EKTETOVTINR CIR.CW
STANCES.
The jury of the Seine Assize Court has found
a wretch named Cobaiion guilty, witu extenu
ating circumstances, of murdering his para
mour, Adele Belong. The murderer, who is
iorty-seven years old, is a hair-dresser, and
has been married since 1850, but shortly after
his marriage he deserted his wife; and six
years ago he took up with the girl Leioag.
Being addicted to drink, he was idle and of
brutalbabits. He was five times arrested for
beating ms paramour, and threatening to take
away her life. In 18G7 be attacked her with a
carving-knife, and she narrowly escaped being
murdered. Some months later he attempted
to choke her ; and to the day of her death she
bore on her neck the marks of the cord with
which he fried to strangle her. Cobaiion sub
sequently was condemned to fifteen days’ im
prisonment for trying to throw a man out of a
window whom ho found drinking eau sucree
with Aklele Belong. On coming out of prison,
he went to Havre to look for employment.
During bis absence, Adele took up with a lock
sm’th, named Ogre, whom she loft when Co
balion returned to Paris in 1871. However, as
she continued to wash Ogre’s linen, the jeal
ousy of the hair-dresser was aroused, and he
again sought to kill her with a carving-knife.
This attempt failed through the intervention
of the concierge. On tbe 15th of March the
long-threatened crime was committed. The
wretcaed Adele had come home late m the
evening, and was entering the parlor behind
the barber’s shop, which she and Cobaiion had
hired, when lie knocked her down with his
curling-irons, and then set to to saw her head
from hor body. The concierge, having heard
her scream and groan, burst into the room.
On seeing bim, Cobaiion pushed bim into the
vestibule, and turned off tho gas. The girl
Belong, who was not yet dead, rose from the
pool of blood in which she was lying, and stag
gered to the shop window. By the light ot a
street lamp Cobaiion was seen rushing after
her. When be reached her she made a su
preme effort to ward off the thrusts of the carv
ing-knife, with which he evidently wanted to
finish her. A curtain was torn down, a plate
glass window broken, and a piercing scream
uttered. Another cut had been inflicted on the
nock. Some passers-by, who had watched the
struggle, broke through the window to the res
cue, but it was too late to be of any service to
Cobalion’s miserable victim, who, ere relief
couiu come, had fallen dead upon the floor.
Dr. Bergeron proved tnai tL© n ir! Belong had
received four wounds in the neck, one in tho
lungs, and eno in tho stomach. Cobalion’s ad
vocate skilfully deduced from the Duborg case
some very specious arguments, which wore not
lost upon the jury. Cobaiion’s tears aiding,
be obtained the verdict of extenuting circum
stances. in consequence of which bis client is,
instead of ending his days on tbe gu llotine, to
spond the remainder of his life in Cayenne.
DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.
AN EAST INDIAN ROMANCE.
The Lucknow Times tells us that a little
while ago a gentleman, described as of rather
prepossessing appearance, came to that place,
bringing with him letters of introduction to
several people in moderate circumstances.
With these people he resided, and having rep
resented himself as a gentleman of substance,
being sole owner and possessor of one lakh
and fifty thousand rupees, was treated with
the utmost deference and courtesy, and fur
ther, was permitted to gain the affections of a
young lady whose only personal attractions
appear to be a profusion oi valuable jewelry,
which she constantly sported. The young lady
explained that her father was an Extra Assist
ant Commissioner, stationed ac something less
than a thousand miles from Oonao, and pos
sessing an estate of immeasurable extent and
incalculable value, to which she was the heir
ess. A match was very soon arranged, and
tho young cbuple, as happy as wealth and af
fection combined could make them, were mar
ried, and left Lucknow on their wedding tour
a few days ago. And here tbe tale, to be a
happy one, should end, but, unfortunately,
this is not the end of the tale.
The gentleman took his bride to Buxar,
where it turned out that he was engaged in
the truly delectable and highly remunerative
profession of fireman on the East India Rail
way, drawing the munificent salary of forty
rupees a month, and it was with feelings of
unutterable anguish that be felt it his duty to
inform the lady that the lakh and a half of ru
pees were in the bands of another party, who
obstinately refused to give up the money on
the ground of his being the rightful owner of
it. The brine bore the disappointment with
stoical equanimity, and informed her hus
band, witn unfeigned regret, that a similar
difficulty existed with regard to her father’s
estate near Oonao. The estate was there all
right, of course, but it was encumbered to
such an extent that it was impossible to get at
it. The nature of the encumbrance, too, was
extremely peculiar; an old zeminder had an
other estate on top ot it, and be obstinately
refused to take it off. And the whole of the
valuaple jewelry, which had proved so excel
lent a bait, had been returned to the bride’s
sister and the other ladies from whom it had
been borrowed for the occasion. It is eaid
that the couple bear tbe mutual disappoint
ment with a very good grace, and are as hap
py as can be expected under the circum
stances.
ALL KIGHT AT LAST.
TWO BLIPS BETWEEN CUP AAD
LIP— HAPPY REUNION.
The Louisville Ledger gives the following ac
count ot me troubles which environed Mr. W.
H. Clark, ol I'iptou, Indiana, iu pursuit of mat.
rnnony:
It must ba said that Miss Ophelia, whose
maiden name was Jesse, sister of tne celebrat
ed Colonel Jesse, wnen a beautiful young girl,
resided in Henry county. At that time, the
present husband was her suitor. In a freak of
a pretty piri’s coquetishuess, however, she re
ceived his advances coldly, and, coming to
Louisville, formed one of those first sight at
tachments which sometimes strike like a flash
of lightning. The attachment was mutual.
The pair had met on Monday ; the next Mon
day a marriage was announced between Miss
Ophelia Jesse and Mr. Benj mm Allen. Every
thing promised a bright future for the young
and happy pair ; but, alas 1 tbeir joy was short
lived, and in a the young wife became a
young widow.
Four years have passed since then. Tho
former suitor, from some reason, and it is hard
to explain the reasons which actuate lovers,
lingered about the old spot, frequently came
from Indiana to visit it, and falling in love with,
paid addresses to another beautiful girl of
Henry county. The ill-luck which attended
him in his first suit, followed bim in this, and
when he thought that all was gained, and that
the beautiful prize would at last be his, she
took it into her pretty head to marry some
body else, not half as good-looking, though a
gallant gentleman.
Foiled thus tbe second time, our friend re
tired to his Indiana home to brood over his
wrongs, though the second disappointment was
nothing to tho first, and had only been resort-
• cl to as a cr.ro for the wound which it had loft,
i Fortune i:ad someth in;; in reserve for him,
. Lowcvir. nnfl, after ail Li? trials, ho war to bo
i b.ii.cu to tho extent of bis deni roe. Coming
to this .■;! the. oth< r day, be met h:s old first
love. 3To'- recognition, s.nd tbo pleasure at the
meeting, -vas mutual. The girl was mellowed
iu tbc woman, the youth was lost in the man,
and, foil owing the dictates, of their hearts
and their imore mature judgment, they became
united :.t last in the bonds of matrimony,
winch tho wayward freaks of forhin ■ and Cu
pel’s mischievous pranks deterred them from
so ioiig, ,
■ //SUES OF FUN..
(From the Danbury News.)
The ruoh for modern sleeve buttons is im
i m:: e. AU the oarmen are busy.
Porkers are paying their Summer board bills
and going into V/inter quarters.
Chestnut worms were never before as plump
palatable as this season.
The present fashionable woman takes off her
bonnet with a comb.
We complain of woman’s extravagance
now. She wears her dresses long enough,
goodness knpws.
West street? sidewalk, wh'ere it is to be con
creted, is in a very bad e£>ape. One of our
doctors is going to start a branch office oppo
site the worst spot-
One of our citizen©sent over to % neighbor
Friday even mg, to borrow the Danbury News,
and was told that he would have to wait until
“our Jane got back from.the ball.”
“ There is one thing you see here that you
don’t m London,” said a native to an English
man. “What is that?” asked the foreigner.
“ Your shadow.”
The passengers on the train up last evening
were canvassed, with the following result
Three for Greeley, two for Grant, and fifty-five
for the Wooster House.
At the Danbury fair this week will be a gen
tleman who has done business in Bridgeport
for nearly a year, and has not had his place set
on fire.
The glorious radiance of an October sun
floods the earth with its brightness, delight
ing all nature with beauty, and making the
apples under the trees smell like thunder.
One of the saddest sights in this season of
the year is a young man who has waited out
side the church of an evening until he is chilled
through only to see his gal walk off with some
rascal who has been inside all the time toast
ing bis sinful shins at the stove.
This is opening week for chestnuts. In fall
ing out of the trees wo have noticed that good
beys generally strike on their heads, while bad
boys invariably land on their feet. The Legis
lature should look into this matter.
An elderly gentleman whose locks were sil
vered by tho snows of many Winters, appeared
in Danbury, on Tuesday. From a seedy chap
on Main srr -et he learned the sad, sad now-.
“Not a drop ?”he asked with touching anxiety.
“Nary a drop.” said the seedy chap, with un
pleasant confidence. The elderly gentleman
sadly returned to the depot, and .thrusting* a
deeply affected face into (he ticket office win
dow, sadly inquired, “Where is our boasted
civilaza—hem—that is—l moan—what is the
fare to Bothel, d—n it ?”
A coup'e of Danburians went up to Peach
Pond one day last week, lor a fish. On the
way the forward wheel of tho wagon broke
down. They repaired the damage by inge
niously substituting the hind for the forward
wheels, and replacing the broken one with a
polo, and came home that way. When seen by
our informant, they were clinging desperately
to tho dash board, which reared itself formida
bly in front, with one eye apiece on the steed,
and tho others spasmodically revolving on our
informant, they jerked out : “ Wha-a-a-r’s
Danbelly ?”
We are glad this liquor trouble is settled,
and no one shares the fooling to any greater
extent than doos Mrs. O'Clarence, bn North
street. Mr. O’Clarence is the sexton of one of
our leading temperance organizations. On the
passage of tho first town vote, killing license,
his jov knew no bounds. He slept in the lock
up that night. The next vote killing the vote
that killed license, completely took him una
wares. We hope to never see grief like that
again. He slept in t? meadow back of the cem
etery that night, and pretty much all of tbe
next day, and only got fully awake in time to
attend tbo meeting, Saturday, and see temper
ance once more triumphant. We guess he
didn’t sleep at all that night, for be was seen
Monday morning making his way to a cabinet
maker’s with a back full of furniture tor re
pairs.
. IN THE. ALPS.
EXCITING. SCENE MIONU GEA.CIERS.
\
The following account of the remarkable
disturbance which took place on the 3d of last
month, in the Aletsh Glacier, in tbe Alps, is
from the pen of an eye-witness :
“ On Friday, August 2, a party of us started
for the top of the Eggischnorn ; but, as tbe
weather proved cloudy, we turned aside to visit
the Marjelen See. On reaching the top of the
Col, from which it first becomes visible, we
wore all struck with the wonderful beauty of
the scene beiore us. There at our feet lay the
Marjelen See, shut in on two sides by the rocky
cliffs of tho Eggischhorn and the Marjelen Aip.
On tbe 3d, the glacier towered above to tbe
Light ot ninety feet, with the snow-top hang
ing over and forming a sort of roof, beneath
which gleamed columns of the purest and most
translucent bin. ice, reflected in a deep groen
horn the Lake below. . The effect of the whole
was higbtened by snow-white masses of ice
floating about in tbe water. About half way m
our descent to the lake, we 'were startled by a
fremenctous doiso m iia*j dixuuuou.oj'. cLiq.gla
cier. Large masses of ice from the upper part
were breaking off, and falling with an echoing
sound into tbe lake. This continued for some
time, pi ce after piece breaking off till the side
ot the glacier toward tho Eggischhorn was en
tirely changed—its beautifully blue surface
becoming a mass of pulverized ice. The fur
ther side remained unaltered.
“As we made our way upward toward the
glacier shelf, one of the party thought the level
of the lake was lower ; and on our return, an
hour and a half later, tnere could bp no doubt
of it. Wo all exclaimed at once at the surpris
ing diminution of the water. Just then we
heard again the same sound, and beheld i?n
enormous mass of ice breaking off from the
glacier. Wo heard crack after crack, and col
umn after column fall into the lake. This
time the destruction extended along the whole
face of the glacier overhanging tbe lake. Tho
ice did not break off m fragments, for tho
cr cks generally began at the top of the glacier,
gradually extending downward and widening,
till at last masses, the whole hight of the
glacier fell and were submerged, stirring the
lake to its depths. Each fall increased the
rushing sound we had noticed at first, and as
cribed only to tbe disturbance of the water, but
which, since reading ‘ 1. T.’s’ letter, I feel sure
was caused b.y the water forcing its way under
the glacier—the torrent he describes. The
disappearance of tbe lake was so rapid that
when we came io cross the valley, we might
have gone over dry shod where the water had
been many feet deep before. Two days after,
wo looked down from the top of tho Eggisch
born upon tbe bed of the lake. It was covered
with the masses of ice which had fallen from
the glacier, but not a drop of water was to be
seen.”
SINGULAR "STORY.
A, Mormoa 'Woman Throws Stones at Her
HusbantVs Funeral Procession.
The Woman's Expositor, a Mormon journal,
has been publishing articles in favor ol poly
gamy, and giving instances of happiness in
the “plural marriage” State. As in offset to
tome of the stories, the Salt Lalto Tribune tells
the following, which is vouched for as strictly
true :
A few years ago there lived in the town of
Spanish Fork a man who was blessed with a
loving companion. She was the wife of his
early years, kind, loving, and affectionate. She
fairly idolized her husband, his love for her
being equal. They lived only as those do who
love each other with true affection. But the
Elders were continually advisin'; the husband
to take another wife, telling him it was the
only true road to salvation.
“But,” said tie, “my poor wife will go crazy.
She could never be satisfied with that state of
life.”
“What I” said tbe bishop, “do you pretend
to be governed by your wife ? Are you going
to lose salvation that you may please your
wife? It was damned foolery like that that
played the devil with man in the first place;
for pleasing a woman Adam was driven out of
tbe Garden of Eden, and, like him, you, to
please your wife, would throw away your sal
vation.’ Now, I advise you to take another
wile as quick as possible, or else dread the ill
will of the Lord.”
Hearing this, the poor fellow was prevailed
upon to take another wife. He did so, and, as
he said, bls poor wife became frantic. After
suffering with grief for a few months, she be
came hopelessly insane; then her love turned
to the most deadly hatred. She was continu
ally swearing vengeance against her husband.
In the course of time her husband died, and
his funeral procession passing her door, she
ran out, and, following the hearse, threw
stones at it the whole way to the grave, curs
ing the dead man as the cause of all her
trouble. In a few months she herself passed
away.
The Tribune adds : “Now let the reflective
and honest Mormon answer what was it that
poor distracted wife cursed and stoned be
cause of her blighted life ? Was it not poly
gamy ?”
HEAD-CHEESE.
SIXTH PERSONS POISONED WITH
IT IN WATERFORD.
(From the Troy Times, Oct. 4t.)
Last night Waterford was the eoene of the
wildest alarm and the greatest confusion.
From the facts that come to our knowledge, it
seems that Robert Waldron yesterday had
manufactured for his market a large loCoI
headcheese. As it was tho first of the season.
the citizens bought .Überally, and many < -> veu .
partook heartily of it /csterday for s ’ l€
ing meal. At about nine o’clock last night y
alarm was first given, the proprietor and mp
mates of tbe Howard House, off© after another;.
bong taken alarmingly ill. Physicians were
summoned in hot haste, and from that time
until morning the greatest panic prevailed.
Among the list of sufferers wo notice the
names of Thomas Howard, of the Howard
House; his son, Adelbort Howard, and his
daughter, Miss Rosa Howard; Mrs. David Van
derwerken, Miss Pease, Lewis Smith, A. T.
Hawley, I. N. Vischer, W. H. Telfair, J. 0.
White, Charles Ducharm, Henry Durham, Os
car S. Kenworthy, all guests of the hotel, and
Mary Fogarty, Bridget Kenny, and Andrew
McAuliff domestics. The above are all doing
well with the exception of Mrs. Vanderwerken
and Mr. Howard and daughter, who are yet
very sick. Among tho sufferers in other por
tions of the town are Mrs. John Ward and
daughter, Miss Irene Webster, Messrs. Robert
and Mitchell Palmer, Air. and Airs. Geer, Airs.
Patrick McCarty, a son of Wm. Wolf, and a
servant of E. Collins, beside many oihers.
Altogether about sixty persons were poisoned.
It is but fair to state that no blame is attached
'o Air. Waldron. It is a mystery how the
cheese became impregnated with tho poison.
©nr WMhj WOt
A correspondent, who is an excellent student
of human nature, and especially human nature
when under the influence of that popular and
wide-spread disease known under the classical
name of “ spooneyism,” sends us the following
idyll, the scene of which is supposed to be laid
in a conservatory. Is is entitled
YOU’RE ANOTHER; OR, THE SPITEFUL LOVERS.
NELLIE.
If I w< re you, when ladies at the play, sir.
Beck-n and no i, a melodrama through,
I would not turn abstractedly away, sir,
If 1 were you!
FRANK.
If I were you, when persons I affected,
Wait for three hours to show me the review,
I would, at less I, pretend I recollected,
if 1 were you 1
NELLIE,
If I were you, when ladies are so lavish,
Sir, as to keep me every waltz hut two,
I would not dance with odious Miss Mclavieh,
If I were you!
FRANK.
If I were you, who vow you cannot suffer
Whiff ot too best—ti e mildest “honey dew,”
I w u i not dance with smoke-consuming Puffer,
If I wora you 1
NELLIE.
It I vzere you, I would not, str, be bitt°r.
Even to write the “ Superfine Review—”
FRANK.
No, I should doubtless find flirtation fitter,
li I were you!.
NELLIE.
Really! Yon would? Why, Frank, you’re quite
delicious—
Hot as Othello, and as black of hue;
Bor; ow my fan. I would not be suspicious
If I were you !
FRANK.
“It is the cause.” I mean your chaperon is
Bringing some well-curie’? juvenile. Adieu 1
I shad retire. I’d spare that poor Adonis,
If I were you 1
NELLIE.
One does not like one’s feelings to be doubted—*
FRANK.
Ono does not like one’s friends to. misconstrue—
NELLIE.
If I confessed that I a wee bat pouted ?
FRANK.
I should admit that I was pique, too.
NELLIE.
Ask me to dance. I’d say no more about it,
111 were you! (Waltz. Exeunt.)
“ Odeveuq” is once more on deck, and thia
week he contributes, for the amusement and
edification of tbe members of the club, an in
teresting chapter from his history of
NOAH.
Noah’s front name was Noah; Noah’s last name
was Flood.
Noah’s wife’s name was Mrs. Noah. She was
called by all her nephewsand nieces Awnh/Flood,
which, being interpreted, means before the Flood.
Noah had three sons—Ham, Shorn, and Japhct.
Their-playmates used to call them Hem, Sham,
and Jackass.
Ham, as the man indicates, was a pork butcher.
Shorn, I am a-Shem ’d to say, kept a faro ban 7.
Japhet was—let me see, what was Japhet?—oh,
yes! Japhet was in search of his father.
Noah, in conjunction with Barnum, used to keep
a menagerie on the European plan. “No reserved
seats.”
One day it rained—it rained the next day, too—in
facr, it rained for a month.
Things were getting damp around Noah’s house,
so Nosh told his boys—who were dutiful children;
and, beside the fact ot their being dutiful children,
their father always carried a cane—to get out tho
canal boat which laid in tho burn, and forthwith
they mounted the house on the boat, and at t t get
ting the animals all housed or boated they se« sail.
Their collection consisted of every known kind of
animals. Anciont history says:
“The animals went in two by tevo.
The monkey and the kangaroo.”
With many a sigh they loft their former home; but
of what use, as Mrs. Noah remarked, was ace high
when there were so many parrs around, which
raised a flush on Noah’s face as he
glanced at thojpofcer. Even the nephewsand nieces
‘ went for” their aunty with/übi hands.
The boat was fitted up gorgeously, each family
having separate apartments.
They never quarreled, yet being opposite neigh
bors they all had adverse-areas.
Ancient history tolls us that there was every known
kind of animal in the boat when they started out on
their expedition; but in another chapter it distinctly
contradicts itself, for it says that not until the storm
ha i abated did they hit on Ary-a nt.
When tiie boat becamv » wz-cci.xaa.oiiG
Noah became a -wreck on the shore,and
would sell out all his right, title, interest &c., to
Barnum, who brought the anima's to New York.
Shy lock was one of the animals which Barnum
saved from the wreck. Some people called it the
timid hare.
The lion and the lamb laid d >wn together.
I- was, in reality, a happy family Everything
was arranged so that n.l the animals should return
from the voyage just as they had entered cho boat.
For should the hateful wolf destroy the tender lamb,
The ewe would not be worth one Uontinaatal dam.
“Spivins,” this week, sends us an account of
the tribulations he endured in the pursuit of
his
ORNITHOLOGICAL STUDIES.
Among my other experiences, I once took it into
my head to become zoolo-ornibhological. My rooms,
even to the attic, were filled with living specimens,
and our house was made vocal with curious sounds,
at which the neighbors swore considerable ; and
even Mrs. 8 , although, poor soul I she is of a highly
nervous temperament, bore with it all very patiently
until, one dav, she discovered a fine specimen of a
serpens reticularis, or jointed snako, snugly coiled up
in her work-basket —which she inhumanly destroyed
by throwing work-basket and all into the fire, and, I
think, has conceived a plan of extermination against
all moving objects since.
However,
I was going down town, one morning, in pursuit
of some novelty, when I ran against Dinks—Dinks,
you know, who is iorty-second cousin to my wite.
“Spiv, my dear fellow',” says he, ‘•'you’re the very
man I want to see. Agassiz has discovered a new
species of bird, and has forwarded the only speci
men to Gigsby’s, the seedsman. Come along and
have a look at it.”
And he seized me by the arm.
Of course, I was ail agog to get a glimpse at the
new wonder, so I went.
There it was. in a great cage, by itself—a stupend
ous thing, with yslow body, b ue wings, scarlet head
siid. claws, and a tail representing the colors of the
star-spangled banner; tho breast sprinkled with stars
on a field of azure; legs of a jetty blackness, suggest
ive of stockings.
“ A fine bird you have there,” said I to the seeds
man.
‘•Rather,” he answered, complacently. “Wo call
it th- Raravis-interram. Singular, but very charac
teristic of Agassiz.”
“ Which—the bird or the name ?” I asked.
“Namo, of course; bur. if you buy it, you may call
it whatever you please.”
“Can it sing ?” I inquired, pausing.
“I/ike a tea-kottlo,” ne answered; •'•but at present
he is homesick, and the sea voyage has affected his
lungs.”
*• Well, I’ll take the Kara what-d’ye-call-’em,” said
I. And I paid the one hundred dollars demanded,
and took it along.
“If this don’t fetoh her,” I ruminated, “ nothing
will.” I was thinking of my wife, Polly.
“How do you like the Rarumtaroum, Poll?” I
asked, as she took the cage from me.
“Pig-headed old fool!” was the prompt rejoinder.
Her lips hadn’t moved, but, of course, she must have
said it, as there was nobody else present.
“Well, anyhow,” she added, “it’s better than the
serpentine reticule, as you called it.”
And she bore it away, holding it at arm’s length, as
if it had been a rattlesnake.
She hung it in an open window oyer a balcony on
the second floor, where it sang a couple of notes and
suddenly stopped. I rubbed my hands in delight.
It was the “Star-Spangled Banner” that he was
about to sing.
However, I went about my business. As I left the
door, I heard my wife distinctly say:
“Good riddance to bad rubbish !”
I looked around m surprise, but the door waa
slammed in my face.
“She’s jealous,” was my reflection, and thought
no more of it.
When I returned to my usually quiet home—my
“ roost,” as I fondly called it—l found a crowd gath
ered about the house, and the greatest excitement
prevailing. The like had never been known in that
quiet neighborhood.
Found Polly with her store clothes and bonnet on
—the latter wrongside foremost (she was absent
minded, anyhow)—standing by the door with a
poker in her hand.
“ It’s well you came,” said she, in a tone of exas
peration; “ I was just getting ready tor a sally.”
“ Sally— what Sally ?” said I, “and what has she
been doing to you ?”
“Why,” said she, “ever since you went out there’s
been a lot o* people here, yelling and shouting, and
threatening to tear the house down if you didn’t
come out. What have you done to them?”
“I never harmed a worm,” said I—“except to
stick him on a pin. But I’ll try and pacify them.” fU.
I sprang up stairs, determined upon a speech from
the balcony which should effectually squelch them.
As I approached the open window, I heard some one
shouting:
“Get out you blackguards I I’ll pepper your hash
for you—l’ll pepper your hash! Rags and tatters,
tatters and rags. Ah! ha! ha! ha! ha!” winding
up with a fit of laughter that was really startling for
its energy.
My head at this inatant appearing at the window
—you must know I thought it was the voice of my
wife I had listened to—some one cried out:
“There he la, the dhirty blagyard I Give ft till
him!” and there came such a shower of vegetable
missiles, sticks and what-not—l thought of the last
days oi Pompaii and hid my bead in
rioter? tllO P° Uoe cam ® along and dispersed tha
in^ a L D 2? ht ~ tho J‘ bird ‘’ fike Poe’s lUven,
«>nnr^ C % e^ n 01ir be d-ioom—l was awakened by tbe
1 k ?X avy T snorin *- 1 nudged my wife, for iX
i ihb G s „ a ° yfcuin S I hate it’s that.
I * ’ says U ” quit that. You know how I hate
ifc *“Did f ?*• sa ?t sbe ;, ° Well, I vow ! and you know
itwasyouaTlu , , .
“ It was you. J k ona 1 Wlsh m’d Quit it l’<
and at it she weffi
Next night we he&fd K U ?fl ar £ w^ 18 fling, tapping at
windows and- pulling tii’K 8 «vour. I struck a light
and hunted high and low/bJ 1 a sign of a bur
glar could I see, except that mu? pitcher was
empty and a piece of frosh meat Md disappeared
from tho hook. This continued for several flights,
when, to my great relief, it ceased, and a new «n*
noyance arose in the screams of a baby in tbe
house, directly against my head board. I remon
strated with my neighbor, but he said he had just
got married, and what was more, he hadn’t any
baby.
Dinks kent on calling all the time,, and inquiring
about the “Rarumtorrorum;” but one evening, aa
he was sitting on the sofa with my wife, and I busy
writing, with my back turned, I distinctly heard the
sound of a kiss—not a quiet, subdued “eepstweepst,”
but an aggressive, demonatrative “smack, smack!"’
—enough to knock a fellow out of his boots.
“ Come, Dinks I” said I, turning suddenly round.
“none or that!”
“None of what?” said he, reddening' violently.
But I had rebetaken myself to my writing.
A short time after we gave a dinner party to our
frxends. There was a full table. It was a very met-'
for it was my wife’s birthday.
“Grace—will your reverence please?*’ I said, bow
ing meekly to my wife’s uncle, Bev. J. Hard wrinkle,
who sat at the head of the table.
“Gammon I” seemed to come from a voice almost
at my shoulder. I looked a; John the butler, but hia
countenance wore a doveiike simplicity that dis
armed me.
“ Hurry up that soup, now/’ said I to John.
“Who wants your d—d dishwater?” retorted a
voice from the other side.
Give us our regular hash, and be quick about, it!”
said another, .
♦• Wine! wine!” cried a third.
“With all my heart. What’ll you have, Brother
Simpkins?’’ I asked my vis-a-vis.
“ Bottle o’ wine!” was tbe quick response.
*' I—l thank you, I never drink,” replied Simp
kins, blushing over his white cravat..
“0, what a lie !” came from across the table.
A great confusion ensued. B'mpkins, who thought
it was him, hit Briggs a slap; triggs hit Dawson;
and Dawson hit Diggs. Folks werty- preparing to
throw th- ngs, when, in tbe midst of the patter, a
great creature came fluttering down* upon the table,
and. with a series of shrill “ Ha, ha, ha’s,” put a stop
to the farce.
It was my wonderful Raravisinterram—in fact, a
large specimen of t. e bird called the mino, which
my wile and Dinks, conspiring, had purchased,
painted in a fanciful style, and disposed" of to me
through tbo seedsman aforesaid—“ to cure mo of my
absurd predilection for ornithology.” Spivins.
Always having the best interests of our lady
friends at heart, wo commend to their notice,
and make no charge for doing so, the following
useful and ornamental article of attire :
THE PA I ENT INFLATED BUSTLE.
The ndv ’.ntages inherent in the inflated, bustle*arS
sueh as will cause it to supersede all the varie'ies
now in use. It is composed of India rubber, inflated
with gas, and can be refilled by hitching it to an or
dinary burner. Rendered thus buoyant, its* desira
ble qualities are at once apparent.
It can be inflated to any desired extent, and' so, is
aclaphbio io all tastes, For the matronly dame of
three hundred pounds, it can be enlarged. to> the s’ze
ot an ordinary balloon, and for ladies of miniature
proportions it can be reduced at will.
For 1 uoyanev it is all that could be desired. It
uever flattens like newspapers, sprawls like springs,
or spills its contents like the sawdust-sluffed ones,
but floats gracefully iu the a.r, giving the woarar tho
airy 1 ghtnoss of a bounding gazelle.
As an ever ro’tcly, salf-adju>Ling cushion, it is most •
admirable, being far preferable to lhe downiest up
hols ery or the springiest of spring chairs.
Am an aid to pedestrianism, it is unique. Gently
lifting the wearer, it acts on the principle of a pro
pe'lor wheel to a steamer.
In crossing gutters, it is an ever-ureoent help.
In dancing it imparls elasticity no other way at
tainable. By its aid the fattest dowager can waif a
as lightly as a girl of fifteen,, without exertion or fa
tigue.
In going up stairs it will bo appreciated by tha
weak-kneed, and will soon render elevators useless.
As a.life preserver, it is tae most ro’iablo ever
made. Ladies wearing it will float on the surface
like swans, and couldn’t sink if they tried..
As a preventive of injuries from falling, it com
mends itself to tho cautious. Tbo force of a fall is
rot on y broken, but the rebound will gently place
the wearer on her feet.
For the tender footed it is just the thing.. Ita
buoyancy prevents tho toes from crowding into the
shoes, and conseqienify Higher heels may bo worn
with comfort.
Should tho wearer dosiro to reduce tho size of her
panier—upon going, for example, from the ball room
to the street or carriage—sbo has only to open the ’
valve and allow a portion o: the gas to escape; to
enlarge it sue can resort io the nearest gas burner.
Caution. — The Boss, while warranting the Parent
Inflatod Bustle as perfectly safe in experience!
hands, begs to add a few cautionary remarks.
Wearers should be exceedingly particular not to
walk with gentlemen who are smoking, or otherwise
expose themselves to fire by association with young
sparks. Explosions have occurred by which large
am unis of dress goods, beside several women have
been ruined. Care should also be taken to properly
proportion the size of the bustle to tho weight of the
wearer. Instances of fatal resu.'ts have followed
carelessness in this respect. One very thin lady,
Ujjon inflating her bustle too much, suddenly shot
skyward, like a rocket, and is very likely now up
among tbo little stars, and still gomg higher. An
other gushing crealur?, in the frisxiness of her girl
ish nature, jumped up and down. She was horrified
to find she couldn’t stop, but went higher at every
bound. At presen; sbe comes down about once a
.week, and expects to e’ear tha moon at tho next
jump.
The following useful hints to travelers by
rail are from tho “.Fat Contributor’s” maga
zine of fun, Saturday Night:
Always attend to checking yourself. If you feel
hko swearing at the baggage-masier, check your
self. If you haven’t a uuuk full of dean clothes
to checK, you at least should be adequate to a check
sbirt.
When you vacate your seat for a moment, leave a
plug hat in the seat. Some one will e rne along, and
pit down on it, thereby preventing your hat from
being stolen.
Passengers cannot lay over for another train with-
ayrnngemontfi with tho conductor. If a
man has been on a “ train” for a week or so; no con
ductor should allow him to lay over for another on
any account.
Ladies without escort, in traveling, should be vory
particular with whom they become acquainted. They
needn’t bo so particular with those with whom they
are acquainted.
Keen your head and arms within the windows, if
you would keep and “ carry arms.”
Never take on politics; it encourages some “ ulm«
shi” to take a vote of the passengers.
No gentleman will occupy more than one eeat at
one time, unless he bo twins.
A gentleman should not spit tobacco juico in the
cars where there are ladies. Ho can let drive out of
tho car window, while the train is at a station, if the
platform is crowded.
Always show your ticket whenever tho conductor
asks tor it. If you get out of humor about it, don’t
show it.
Never smoke iu a oar where there aro ladies. Get
the conductor to turn the ladies out botere lighting
your cigar.
Never uso profane language in tne car. Go out on
the platform. Profanity is never thrown away on a
brakeman.
If you cannot sleep yourself, do not disturb the
“ sleepers.”
Look out for pickpockets. Pickpockets are never
in tho car, you know, as you have to “look out” for
them.
Provide yourself with steeping berths before start
ing. No careful man will start out on a journey wiih
out a good supply of sleeping berths. [N. B.—Those
put un in flat bottles are the best, as they are easily
carried in the pocket.]
Always be at the railroad station in good time to
take the train. Better be an hour too early than a
minute too late, unless you are on your way to fia
hanged-
We will now conclude with the following
SCINTILLATIONS.
It is pleasant to become a parent «
twico as p.easant, perhaps, to be blessed with twins;
but when it comes to triplets, wo are a little dubi
ous. Nov; there dwells in Jefferson City, Vy’isconsin,
a worthy German, who, a tow years ago, was pre
sented by his wife with a son. Hans said to her:
“Katrine, dat ish goot.” A couple of years later
the good woman placed before hia astonished gaze a
bouncing pair of twins. “Veil,” said Hans, “dat
ish potter ash dor Oder dime. I trinks more ash ten
glass peer on dat.” But the good woman next tlma
gave birth to triplets, and that made him “apoka
mit his mout shust a liddle.” “Mein Gott. Katrine,
vat ish de matter on you ? Petter you shtop dis piz
ness, ’fore der come more ash a village full. I gets
nullmit such foolishness!” No later returns have
been received.
A genius has an idea which is an
idea. Ha proposes to arrange church seats on piv
ots, so that the devout may more conveniently ex
amine the toilets of the back seats. This devica
would greatly increase the value of the church prop
erty, for then all the pews would be made alike well
situated, and of equal desirability. With solf-feacri
flee for the “cause,” tho inventor has declined to
patent his improvement, ani it is free to all.
The late Chief Baron O'Grady,
many years ago, was sentencing a pickpocket, in
Cork, to be whipped—a common punishment in
those days. “You must,” the Chief Baron said, “be
whipped from North Gate to South Gate.” “Bad
luck to you, you old blackguard, ’’ said the prisoner.
‘ you done your worst.” “And back again,’* - said
the Chief Baron, as if he had not been interrupted by
the prisoner in the delivery of the sentence.
Gentleman —“My good woman,
how much is that goose ?” Market Woman—“ Well,
you may have the two at seven shillin’.” Gentle
man—“ But I only want one.” Market Woman—
“ Can’t help it; ain’t a goin* to sell one without
other. Them ’ere geese, to my certain knowledge,
hev been together for more’n thirteen years, and I
ain’t a goin* to be so unfeelin’ as to separate ’em
now.”
Fashionable hats and bonnets for
ladies differ only in name. The same article, when
worn well forward on the head, and the strings tied
behind, becomes a hat; and if pushed far enough
back to show the coronet braid and the infantile
curls brushed over the forehead, with the strings tied
under the chin, it becomes a bonnet.
Susan —“Oh, mim, please, my
kitchen, mim; it do swarm with beadles.” Mistress
—“Beadles, Susan! don’t you know that word is
spelled with aT ?” Susan—“ Is it, mim ? Well, it’a
the first tiuis I’ve ever heard *em called teadles.”
A lady who has a pretty hand is
anxious to learn whether aome people are moreliabl.
to “burn their Angara ” than others through their
having taper ones. It is difficult to say; ’out It would
bo advisable not to let a "spark" got at them.
An excellent old deacon, who,
having won a fine turkey at a chatty raffle, didn’t
like to tell his severe orthodox now he came by
it, quietly remarked as he hands,! her the turkey,
that the “Shakers gave it to hixo.”
x A load of bricks passed over an
lowa boy, last wook, withoijt tuning bias. K. waa
uadei a bridge.
7

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