New York dispatch. [volume], May 05, 1878, Page 6, Image 6

About New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899

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6
UNNUMBERED GRAVES.
Ton hilside, with its shafts of gleaming white,
Bathed in the glory of the setting sun,
Holds many a grave Micro, hidden from our sight,
Some loved one sleeps, life’s toil and labor done.
But there are graves over whoso slumbering mols
No polished marble rears its stately head.
And where no fragrant flowers above unfold
To waken pity for the quiet dead.
These are the graves deep down within our hearts,
Where lie the hopes and dreams of early years,
Buried from sight, but signaled by such marks
As only can be made by blood and tears—
Borne early love that crowned us in our youth,
And made life glorious for a short, sweet hour—
Some cherished promise, robbed of strength and
truth,
Crushed in the morning of its new-born power.
Here is the spot whore memory has engraved
The form and face of one we called a friend—
One for whose welfare we would e’en have braved
Censure and heartache to the bitter end.
But ’twas not wisely done, and so we draw
Before the treachery of the smiling eyes
A heavy vail. Ihe cold world, if it saw,
Would proffer pity in a thousan d lies.
Bo life goes on. We lay the forms away
Of things we loved not wisely but too well,
And in the lapse of years we learn to stay
Tbe fretful chanting of their funeral knell.
We learn to smile, before the smiling throng,
Although the adder’s fangs be deeply set;
And join, perhaps, our voices in the song,
To soothe tbe pain we never can forget.
And thus we learn to envy the calm rest
Of those who sleep beneath tbe silent sod.
Bound with life’s galling chains, we know ’tis boat
To bend our heads and pass beneath the rod.
And when we see some mourners heavy clad
In robes of black, haggard, with tear-dimmed eye,
We know their lives would be more bright and glad
Could they but reason—it is life to die.
Mourn not the slumbering dead, but rather say,
Blest are the sleepers. Years may come and go;
Heads that are brown and gold may turn to gray,
But they are done with earth and tears and woe.
Somewhere, we know, beyond the world of stars,
They will at last have found sweet Lethe’s stream;
Some time we’ll meet them at God’s judgment bar,
Where life is love, and love one long, true dream.
FROM
OUT HE (Will
BY THE AUTHOR OF
“TIES SQUIBE’S DABLINQ,” “A GILDED BIS,”
“doba thobne,” “ladi damisk’s
BECKET,” ETC., ETC.
CHAPTER XLIV.
’'WHEN I BEGAN TO LOVE YOU WITH A LOVEB’s
LOVE I CANNOT TELL.”
Lady Caraven decided to follow the advice of
her fnend Sir Raoul, and forgive her husband.
Sho received him in the pretty littlo boudoir in
which tha few months of her' girlish life at home
had been spent. It was a pretty room, octagon
shaped, with a large bay-window that lookad
across the lawn to too river—a room that seem
ed fitted for a young girl’s habitation, with
hangings of pink silk and white lace, a profu-'
sion'of flowers, and a few pretty water-color
She was standing by the window when he
entered. His step was so light and quiet that
oho did not hear him at first; and he looked at
her for half a minute tn silent admiration. Tbe
tall slender figure was draped in a plain black
silk dress ; the dark hair was carelessly arranged
alter a picturesque fashion ; the lovely face had
a faint hue of returning health and hope. Her
hands were tightly clasped, and the expression
on her face was one of deep thought.
“Hildrod I” be called, and at the sound of his
voice a crimson finch seemed to born her neck
and face. Sho was quite silent for a minute,
md then she turned to him and held out her
hand.
“ Can you—do you really forgive mo 1” he
asked. “ I hardly dare to hope that it is true.”
“It is quite true,” she replied ; and he de
tected a slight tremor in her voice. “ Let me
ask a question in my turn. “Is it true that
youleveme?”
“ Yes,” he answered. “Itis as true as that
Heaven is above me.”
“ Will you tell me how long you have loved
me ?” she asked quietly.
“ I will answer you quite truthfully, Hildrod/’
replied the Earl. “ I cannot tell you. When I
first married you—l speak freely—l did not like
you; to me you were simply an incumbrance
that I was compelled to put up with. I saw
nothing in you—neither beauty nor mind ; yet
we had to live together; and" in some kind of
way I was grateful to you. For many long
months after our marriage I looked upon you
simply as an unformed schoolgirl. Tho first
thing that I awoke to was a knowledge of your
beauty; I hoard every one praising it, and I
began to percoivo that in place of an unformed
schoolgirl I had one of the most beautiful wo
men in England for my wife!. The next thing
that struck mo was the way in which you spoke
to me; I began to admire your pride and'spirit,
your noble ideas, your grand notions of duty.
The day 1 sawyou dismiss John Blantyre was
the day, I beiieve, on which 1 first began to love
you. Theo I admired the way in which you
roused me, the way in which you broke up
without mercy all my dreamy luxurious life. I
loved you for'the brave manner in which you
• look your stand by duty. But when I began to
love you with a lover’s love I cannot tell. On
the night of the ball, when I saw what you had
inscribed on your tablets— 1 My husband’—my
heart beat faster than it had ever done before,
and I felt the greatest inclination to take you
in my arms and kiss your face a thousand
times ; but I could not. After that my love
grew. 1 watched you—you were beautiful and
graceful, my love; I listened to you—your
words were replete with wit and wisdom ; I saw
how your whole time was given to useful and
noble occupations. But when I began to love
you with a lover’s love I cannot tell, Hiidred. I
should like to say one thing to you,” he con
tinued hurriedly— K they are humiliating words
for me, but true ones. ’ Whatever theft is of
good in ma I owe it, my wife, to you. I was
sunk in pleasure, in self-indulgence. I bad
but one idea of life, and that was to get as
much from it as possible. I own to you that I
never even thought of duty ; I hated tbe word.
My thoughts and interests were centered in
myse.f. Men died; I cared not, so that I lived.
Men starved ; I had’plenty. Those who do-,
pended on me were ground down, oppressed,
and burdened. I oared.not, so that the means
were forthcoming to gratify my desires. My
wife, it was you who aroused tbe nobler soul
within me, who taught me to live for others and
not for myself, who taught me that there is a
pleasure in virtue. After Heaven, I owe all that
is good in my lifo to you, and I thank you for
it.”
She bowed her head in sweetest courtesy.
She could not speak to him. His words had
filled her heart with the, very fulness of joy.
“I am sure,” he continued, “ that, when a
strong chain of circumstances led me to believe
that you.were guilty of a great crime, the
strongest feeling in my heart was disappoint
ment that you were not the angel I had taken
you to be. Then, when you bad gone, and I
was left aione, left without you, I knew that I
loved you. *1 found my life a blank-; my
thoughts were always with you ; my heart had
gone with you. Then I knew that I loved you
with a lover’s love, aud that I should never be
happy until I had won yoa.”
A glad light came into her dark eyes, but she
made no reply. He continued—
“ Hiidred, as earnestly as a man can speak, I
ask you to forgive me. Forgive the base sel
fishness that married you for money without
love, and without any knowledge of your real
worth. Forgive the insolent neglect, the
cruelty, the coldness, the pain I have caused
you. Forgive tho last and greatest blunder of
all—my unjust suspicion. I do not deserve
your pardon, but 1 ask it.”
“I forgive you," she replied. “We will
bury the past; we will talk of it no more. But,
Lord Caraven, lam going to put your love to
the test.”
He interrupted her.
“Hiidred,” he said, “do not call me’Lord
Caraven’ try to say ‘ Ulrie.’ ” She looked at
him with sweet shy eyes.
“Ulric,” she said, “I am going to put your
love to the test”
“ I may say'with safety that it will bear it,”
he replied.
“ Our marriage was a mistake,” she said
softly—" perhaps we were not altogether to
blame for that. We have made great mistakes
aince, in which we have both been to blame.
What 1 propose is a year’s absence. A cousin
of mine, Mrs. Glenvil, is very ill, and is ordered
to Nice. I ask you to let me go with her.
She will be away a year—see what that year
will effect. If love of me has sufficient in
fluence over you to keep you good, industrious,
active for the benefit of others, as you are now,
I shall believe that you love me. If in a year’s
time you come to me and tell mo that you lovo
me better than ever, that time and absence
have not changed you, 1 will return with you,
and will make you a most loving, devoted wife.
Do you accept my love ?”
He stood tor a few minutes in thoughtful si
lence, and then he said :
“Yes ; I accept it—l shall bo pleased to prove
my sincerity to you.”
“There need be nothing in it for people to
gossip about,” she said, shyly. “You have
but to tell any one who inquires that I have
gone to Nico with my cousin, and when the
twelvemonth has elapsed, that you are going
to fetch mo home.”
"I am willing, Hiidred,” he said, “and shall
count the dajs and the hours, my wife, until
we meet. 1 never knew how sweet tho word
‘ wife ’ was, nor how much it meant, until now.”
As it was agreed, the only persons to whom
they told the result of that interview were Sir
Raoul and Arley Ransome, who both cordially
approved of tbe plan, foreseeing that it would
end well. Every one believed that Lady Car
aven nad been so suddenly summoned because
of tho illness of Mrs. Glenvil, and when a short
paragraph in the fashionable papers told that
the young countess was going to Nice for a
short time with her cousin, no one bad a word
to say about the arrangement.
Tbe earl returned to Ravensmere to show all
needtul politeness and respect for Lady Hamil
ton. It was a great relief to him when the doc
tor pi onounced her well enough to return home,
and ho was a little surprised when he found
that she regretted leaving Sir Raoul more than
any one else. The noble, honest soldier had
made a great impression on the beautiful, fash
ioaable
“ Ho is a man worth loving,” she said to her
self.
Then’the earl returned to London to see his
wife and Mrs. Glenvil off. He went with them
to Dover. They had decided upon going to ■
Paris first. Ho stood for a few minutes on the
deck of tho steamer before it sailed ; he looked
with longing, wistful eyes at the face of his
young wife.
“Hiidred, how I wish that I were going with
you I” he said.
“So do I,” she replied, with a frank, charm
ing smile. “But that would not do. You must
stand the test. You will come to fetch me, and
the year will not seem so long.”
‘ He sighed as he looked at her.
“I havo a kind of fear that I shall be like tho
naughty boy in tho story-book,” he said —“I
shall meet with my just punishment. Hiidred,
if anything should happen to me before tbe
year is out ?”
“ to return to you at once if you are
ill or in trouble,” she replied, earnestly.
“My darling, give me one kiss I” he cried
suddenly.
But tbe countess drew down her veil.
“No,” she said, “that would make tho part
ing oven harder. Good by. Heaven bless you,
Ulna 1”
“Good by, my wife!” ho said; and his eyes
filled with tears as ho watched the steamer
cutting her way through the blue waves.
CHAPTER XLV.
“THIS IS OUB BEAL WEDDING-DAY, HILDBDP.”
No man ever set to work with greater zeal
than did the handsome earl. He did not delay
one hour in London; be went back at once to
Ravensmere, only eager to begin work. There
was to be no more idleness, no more dissipa
tion, no more self-indulgence. He had made
up his mind that all the plans his wife had con
templated and begun for the benefit of the es
tate should be carried out before she returned
home. Tbe model cottages should be built,
and men with their families residing in them;
the schools shouldmot only be erected, but open;
the alms-houses should be finished, and the
old women occupying them. She should find
her protege Mary Woodruff installed as por
tress in one of the lodges; every wish his wife
had ever expressed should be carried out, every
desiro fulfilled; houses should bo repaired,
farms put in good order—he would neglect not
a single thing that she had over proposed or
thought of. No matter what it cost, all should
be done. He took Sir Raoul into his confidence,
and they found that by employing extra bands
tho work could be done in the time.
Lord Caraven did not lose an hour. No -one
looking at him now could have believed that ho
bad ever been indolent. There were days when
he rose with the dawn of the sun and worked
without ceasing until it set—days when he
found no time for anything but riding round
and encouraging the different sets of men to
work. Every one knew at last what his object
was—that he wanted all finished before his wife
came home.
When that was known, tho workers -grow
even more anxious to please him, for there was
not one on the estate, man or woman or child,
who was not anxious’to please the young
countess and who did not love her.
“Sho will be happy at last,” said Sir Raoul
to himself as bo saw that love for her was
gradually but surely influencing the whole of
the young earl’s lifo.
Lord Caraven, in the midst of his labors and
toils, did net forget to correspond continually
with his wife. 110 wrote to her every week,
never telling her what ho was doing, but dwell
ing continually on his. passionate love for her,
on bis intense desire to see her again.
"These are our love letters, Hiidred,” he
wrote once. "This is our courtship. The day
on which wo meet will be our real wedding
day.” And she smiled to herself as she read.
He was won at last, and no one but herself
knew how happy she was to win him.
So the year passed away. It was thought
advisable for Mrs. Glenvil to return before the
English Winter began, and the beginning of
September was fixed upon as the time for her
and the countess’ return. Tho earl prayed his
wife to allow him to go to Nice to escort them
home, as was at first arranged. She answered
“No,” that her father would do that. She did
not wish to meet him again until she met him
at home, lior father would bring her to Court
Raven Station; be could meet her there and
take her Jhome.
“She is right,” said Sir Raoul; “that seems
to me mors fitting. She is right, as she al
.ways is.”
So the day came—a bright September day—
when all tho world seemed changed to the Earl
of Caraven. The train was due at the Court
Raven Station at three in the afternoon, and i
tbe earl was to meet it.
Lord Caraven kept his word. The day was
celebrated as a wedding-day. Great tents were
erected in the park, and all tho children and
the tenantry were feasted therein to their
hearts’ content. There was nothing but re
joicing and merriment and happiness.
The earl stood by the carriage when tbe
train stopped. There was not much time for
greeting then. Ho clasped his wife’s hands be
tween his own, hesitated for a moment, and
then kissed her.
“My wile—my darling—welcome home!” be
said.
Then ho helped her into the carriage and took
his seat by her side. He saw her face grow
palo with emotion as the ringing cheers of men,
women, .nd children fell upon her ear, and as
the carriage drove slowly along, more than one
rough voice cried:
“ Heaven bless your ladyship! Welcome
homel”
They drove slowly, tor the crowd was great.
She had seemed especially to belong to the
people, this dark-eyed, boautiful woman, who
bad worked so hard, and they were delighted
to have her in their midst again. The earl had
not failed to tell thorn all, both neb .and poor,
what thev owed to her, and rich aud poor were
there to welcome her. The crowd increased as
they drove through tbe park, and wben'thircar
riage stopped »t the groat entrance it was won
derful to see the throngs of people. The earl
stood up to thank them for their kind and spon
taneous greeting. Then he.took his wife’s hand
in his, aud a boautiful smile brightened her
face as she looked round upon them—there was
hardly one in tho vast gathering who had not
received some kindness, some tavor or benefit
from her hands.
“ K[y friends,” he said, “every man who loves
bis wife has a pet name for her. My wife is tbe
> good angel of my house.”
Then they passed indoors, followed by the
good wisbes-or all who knew them.
There was a small and early dinner party at
the castle ; tbe members of it were tho earl, toe
countess, Sir Raoul, Arley Ransome, and Mi's.
Glenvil. After dinner, Lord Caraven drew his
wife’s arm within his own.
“This is our real wedding-day, Hiidred.” he
said, “ so I am not going to apologize tor taking
you away trom our gneste.”
They walked across the long drawing-room
to the ..balcony, where the last roses of Summer
were hanging, and where the creepers formed a
bower.
“It is not cold,” ho said. “ Will you come
out here?”
They went out together, and stood watching
tbe sunset over tbe trees m the park.
“First of all, Hiidred,” said the earl, “guess
what news I have for you.”
“ I cannot guess,” she replied.
“You would never imagine,” ho said. “I
told you tn one of my letters how sorry Lady
Hamilton was to leave Sir Raonl.”
She looked up at him, her laoe full of interest.
“Yes; you did,” she assented.
“It has ended m this way., He met her
again in London, and again at Brighton, and
they are to be married at Christmas. She has
given up flirting, andtoares for nothing under
the sun but her soldier lover.”
“1 am glad of it,” said Lady Oaraven. “ Sho
is a beautiful woman, sweet, gentle, and gra
cious. Her only fault was coquetry. I think
she is safe with Sir Raoul. Ho will not allow
much of that.”
“Still you will own that you are surprised,
Hiidred ?”.
But she did not answer him. She had placed
her hand in his and was looking far away at the
light of the setting sun, as one in a happy
dream.
“ I wanted to say something else to you, my
darling, ’he continued, putting his arm round
her and Kissing her fondly, while she nestled
to his side. “I want to thank you for all you
have done for me, and to tell you that I think
the greatest blessing Heaven can confer upon a
man is the gift of a patient, unselfish, devoted
wife—such as has been given to me."
THE END.
flasheTof fun.
BY THE DANBURY NEWS MAN.
Nobody offers to shoot an apple from
Gail Hamilton’s bead.
Ice is so scarce that the poor will have
to eat their hash without it, we fear.
No strawberries yet in market. Great
Hoav—l However, we have apinaoh.
Gen. McClellan accumulates much pot
tery. He has not lost his penchant for earth
works.
Man lives not in the present but in the
future. At 7A.M. ho looks for noon; at 1 P.M.
he begins to sigh lor 6’o’clock.
There were a gang of gipsies in town
the other day. To a man with only one shirt a
gipsey is an object of dreamy contemplation.
The subject of a New Haven man’s ad
dress was, “What shall we live on?” We
didn’t got the particulars, but wo think it is
eggs.
The British military authorities con
demn all white or gray horses as being too con
spicuous. If they can only get nd of the pale
horse they can save tho others.
E. D. C., Bolton, Eng.—A good poet
can find employment on the leading literary
periodicals of this country. Thirty dollars a
month and board-is about the average pay.
.Some writer says man cannot live al
ways. « How is it about that party who heads
bis items on remarkable eggs with “Eggactly,”
and “ Eggstraordinary ?” Will he ever die ?
• A Bridgeport man » has been twenty
years perfecting a machine to enable him to Dy
over Niagara Falls. It would have been chean
, . er, we think, to have takes to tlje fridge,
NEW YORK DISPATCH, MAY 5, 1878.
A scrawny-looking individual cams into
the office, the other morning, to advertise his
wife, who had left him, that people should not
trust her on his account. He asked the book
> keeper the price, and when told, said, in some
surprise:
“Is that so? Why, that’s what I paid to ad
vertise my first wife. I thought prices might
havo come down.”
A strolling gymnast gave an exhibition
on the tight rope, in Danbury, tbe other after
noon. Among the observers were two under
takers, and although not in hearing distance of
each other, yet both, strangely enough, con
tinued to repeat over and over again:
“Ob, I hope he won’t fall: I hope he won’t
fall.”
When ho got through they diapered with tho
crowd, but so great had been their concern for
him that their faces still appeared troubled.
WHO KhSTtheTuDGE?
A MYSTERY OF CRIME.
BY T. 0. HARBAUGH.
Ono raw morning in March the janitor of the
court-house of B——■ entered the Judge’s pri
vate room for the purpose of making a fire, and
was frightened almost out of his wits at finding
the honorable dignitary lying motionless on the
floor.
The janitor was about to retreat and raise the
alarm oy ringing the court-house bell, when he
bethought himself that tho Judge might have
but a fit, and that ho could render him the
needed assistance. Therefore, he hastened for
ward and tried to lift tho prostrate man, who
lay on the floor with one hand partially hidden
in his bosom, while the other, lying near his
head, hold his penholder, the gold pen of which
had its nib broken. But as the Judge was a
large man, given over to some extent to obesi
ty, and the janitor a cadaverous fellow, who
had been denominated “Bones” by the at
taches of the court-house, he found his at
tempt useless, and soon gave it up as futile.
The stare in tbe Judge’s eyes and the ghastly
hue of the skin told the janitor that life had de
parted, and a moment after this discovery the
court-house bell was spreading wonderment
throughout the town.
At that time an unusually interesting court
was in session at B , presided over by Judge
Blakely. A large number of criminal cases had
been disposed of, and but few remained which
were of more than passing importance. The
session just drawing to a close had attracted
many people from tho rural districts, and tho
several hotels were nightly taxed to their ut
most capacity. Attorneys from a distance wore
in attendance, ana many friends of the prison
ers still remained in town.
Therefore the wild ringing of the court-house
bell, fully three hours bafore the opening of
court, startled everybody who heard it. There
was catastrophe in its unwonted tones, and
while Jabez Throck, the janitor, still held the
rope, he heard the patter of a multitude of feet
in the stone corridor below. Releasing the rope,
he planted himself.at the top of the stairs and
forbako the crowd surging up, saying that the
Judge was dead, and that tho coroner was
needed.
The report of the Judge’s death now spread
like wildfire, and the court-house was speedily
surrounded by the most excited crowd ever seen
in B
After some delay, caused'in a great measure
by the extraordinary excitement, the coroner, a
slow but precise man, announced himself ready
for business, and, accompanied by the sheriff;
several surgeons and tbe janitor, proceeded to
the Judge’s room, the door of which was locked
behind them in order to keep intermeddlers
out.
Judge Blakely was found in the manner in
which the janitor had left him, and tho examin
ation was begun.
The surgeons who had come beforehand to
the conclusion that apoplexy had taken the
Judge off, were foaced to abandon such ideas.
For a brief examination told them that an as
sassin had been there. A crushed skull over
the left ear, and four dagger stabs in tho region
of the heart were‘the proofs of the murder.
Lying min its accustomed place by the coal
stove was seen one of the instruments ot death
—a short, iron pokor, to which adhered both
hair and blood. But tho dagger was missing.»
The assassin, whoever he was, had first
struck the Judge from behind with the poker
while he sat in his great arm-caair at his desk,
as the position of chair and body indicated,
and then dealt the blow with the dagger.
' In bearing off'tho sharp instrument of death,
it was at first believed that the murderer had
left no ciew behind, but after the surgical ex
amination, a discovery' was made that startled
every one. w
Lying upon the desk, and almost entirely
concealed beneath a mass of legal documents,
was a piece of legal cap, upon which was traced,
in a spasmodic hand, these words : »
“ Jason Bowers did this !"
Below this brief but startling sentence, which
seemed at once to fix the identity of tbe assas
sin, was what appeared to Up an attempt of tho
writer to affix a signature, but after a “J,” the
pen made a long mark, which the beholders
could follow across the desk to tho very walnut
edging.
It seemed that death had suddenly stricken
the writer in tho act of signing his name, and
tho broken pen in tho Judge’s lifeless hand
pointed almost positively to the writer.
There was such a man as Jason Bowers. He
was not a resident of B——; for some time past
ho had been an inmate of the county jail—held
there on a charge of forgery. On the day prior
to the night of the Judge’s murder, this man
Bowers had been acquitted by the jury selected
to try him, and at the moment ot the commis
sion ot the crime, he was a free mao. He bad
never been heard to say aught against tbe
Judge, more than to remark that he thought
that in the charge to the jury, ho (tho Judge)
had favored conviction. At home, the young
man had not borne an irreproachable charac
ter, having been engaged in affairs of ques
tionable honor ; but tho trial for forgery’ was
his first appearance before a criminal court.
Upon the evidence ot the writing on the pa
per which was pronounced by all to be in tbe
late Judge’s ehirography, and beyond doubt
toe last work of his lifo, the sheriff resolved to
take Jason Bowors into custody if he was still
in town. The yousg man was not difficult to
find, as he was in tbe crowd below, and on the
charge ot malicious murder he was forthwith
arrested and lodged in jail.
We now come to the most mysterious part of
our narrative. ,
At the coroner’s inquest but little light was
thrown upon toe crime.
Jabez Throck, the janitor, said that he found
the outer doors of the court house locked from
the inside; and that ho had been obliged to en
ter through tbe coal cellar, of which he alone
carried the key. It was not an uncommon
thing for the deceased to remain in his room
till twelve at night, during a session of court,
and that upon such occasions ha locked the
court house when he left for home. Upon the
janitor’s testimony, the theory that the mur
derer had been concealed in the building was
started, but this was injured by the various
county officers, who swore that they had locked
tho iron doors leading into their offices imme
diately after the adjournment of court, which
gave tbe murderer no place for concealment
but the stone corridors.
Tbe court-house was on the second street
running parallel with the river, and one of the
town sewers connected it with the stream.
There was a bare possibility that a small man
might have obtained ingress into the building
by the sewer, but an examination of its mouth
dissipated this theory. The. court-room wasj
situated on tbe second floor. The murderer, to'
reach the judge’s apartment, was compelled to
cross the court-room, which, when wrapped in
darkness as it was when the murder was com
mitted, was no easy task for one unacquainted
with tbe arrangement of the furniture, etc. If
the assassin had traversed the room just de
scribed, he had failed to displace a single chair,
several having been left in the aisles as the
sheriff testified; aud tho mode and manner of
his exit were-also left in the dark.
There was nothing to point to the evil-doer
save the piece of paper already twice men
tioned, and by the major part of B——’s in
habitants it was regarded as conclusive. Jason
Bowers was abjured to confess, but to the sur
prise of all he protested his innocence, and de
clared that at the proper time he would prove
an alibi.
new judge took Blakely's place, and the
session was resumed. A new grand jury was
summoned, which indicted Jason Bowers for
willful murder, and afier the disposal of several
grand larcenies, the young man was pu. upon
trial for bis life.
The district attorney, and a man who had won
many eulogiums for his rigorous prosecution
of criminal cases, was summoned to B—- to
look after the interests of the state. After an
investigation of the case he declared that the
jury would deliver a verdict of “guilty” with
out leaving their boxes, and the trial was com
menced.
It is called to-day “ the great trial ”at B —,
though sixteen years have passed away, and
the old court house has given place to a new
one.
Jason. Bowers exhibited no signs of guilt
when placed on the prisoner’s stand and con
fronted by the crowd in which his friends
might have been numbered by pairs. It was
known that he hoped to prove an alibi, though
few believed his ability to do so.
“If, gentlemen,” said the district attorney
to the jury in opening the case, “we.shall show
that immediately after his acquittal of the
charge of forgery, the prisoner made threats
against the deceased; that he was seen in the
vestibule of ths court house at the hour of ten
or thereabouts on the night of the murder, if
at the time aforesaid he, standing on tho stone
steps, addressed one of the witnesses for the
state in his own, undisguised voice, so that tbe
witness will swear positively concerning his
identity, we shall present a case that will de
mand conviction.
“But, if wo shall further show, gentlemen,
that the prisoner carried to his washerwoman
at daylight on tho morning after the committal
of the crime, a shirt, tho right cuff and bosom,
of which contained blood stains; if, proceeding
further, we shall show that when the prisoner
was arrested there was found upon his person
a dagger, whoso blade fitted tho several wounds
in the deceased breast, and if we shall make
known the fact that tho prisoner, after his ac
quittal, declared that he could traverse the
court room with ease after dart aud then if we
> offer in evidence the last words (written) of
3 the deceased—words which he must have writ
t ten after he had been left for dead by his mur
. derer, we shall confidently expect a conviction,
9 though we would wish to see the prisoner, if
innocent, prove a satisfactory alibi."
. Tho attorney’s opening address created a
t profound impression; it seemed to seal tho
prisoner’s doom. If the prosecution could
prove what they said they could, from whence
1 would the alibi come ?
The defense relied mainly upon proving an
’- alibi, as the prisoner’s chief eounsebstated in
f his response to tho District Attorney. They
.- stated that the blood stains on the shirt as
well as the dagger on the prisoner’s person
t would be accounted for. His supposed pres
ence in the outer vestibule on the night of the
o crime would be swept away by the oath of the
r most reputable citizens of B——-.
We will not enter upon the details of tho
trial. The prosecution introduced proof bear-
> ing upon tho several heads of tho district at
’ torney’s address. The man who swore to the
• prisoner’s presence on the court house steps
was a person of undoubted veracity and well
respected in B——. Ho had known Jason Bow
ers previous to his arraignment for forgery, and
could not have been mistaken in tho voice that
addressed him on that night. The figure on
the steps corresponded with tbe prisoner’s; but
the face was concealed, as if purposely, by tho
0 slouching of tho bat. Tins witness swore posi
.’ tively.
1 The prisoner’s shirt, accompanied by his
= washerwoman’s testimony, was exhibited in
e court. It produced a profound impression, for
unobliterated stains ot a dark color wore visible
0 on cuff and bosom.
0 The prosecution, ably and almost vindictive
-0 ly conducted, seemed to give the prisoner no
0 chance for escape, and the defense was regard
ed frivolous before its turn came.
3 The fact that the doors leading into the
1 court-house were found to bo locked on the in
-3 side by Jabez Throck, the janitor, on the mem
-1 orable morning, was commented upon with
1 proof by the defense. It was furthermore
proven that every window was found fastened,
3 likewise on the inside, after tho discovery of
the Judge’s dead body.
The defense admitted the prisoner’s remark
concerning his ability to traverse the eourt
' room with ease after dark; but said that be
meant by it that his protracted tiial had famil
’ iarized him with tbe room. The blood-stains
c on the shirt were accounted for by saying that
the prisoner had cut his wrist on the night of
1 tho crime, and, in fact, when he was arrested
J his wrist was found to be bandaged by bloody
1 linen.
1 Tho alibi which the defense bad proposed to
1 prove did startle every one.
‘ One of the most respectable groeerymen in
' B testified that Jason Bowors had been
' continually in his store from nine to half past
’ ten, inclusive, on the night of the murder, and
' several creditable witnesses deposed to having
accompanied him from the grocery to the hotel,
’ whice was reached at a quarter to eleven. This
‘ damaged tho testimony of the witness who had
sworn to having encountered Jason Bowers on
tbe court-house steps at ten o’clock, or there
abouts.
1 On a cross examination several ef the pris
oner’s witnesses admitted that his manner was
excited and strange'; but the clerk of the hotel
1 said that shortly after the prisoner’s arrival he
1 wem up to his room. Did not see bandage on
wrist then ; had loaned the prisoner the dagger
1 shown in court; the prisoner had returned it
' just before retiring, but had got it again before
1 breakfast on the following morning. The wash
erwoman, on cross exammation, said that the
> prisoner told her that he wished his shirt by
1 noon as he wanted to leave B at that hour;
' noticed bandage on his wrist.
■ The defense also brought forward witnesses
' to prove that the prisoner had expressed to
1 several his intention of leaving B at the
hour mentioned; but that he was prevented by
his arrest for murder.
1 As tho defense progressed tho spectators
looked perplexed. It was evident that a loop
hole tor tbe prisoner’s escape would do offered.
The prosecution looked dumfounded.
The Judge’s charge was elaborate in its de
tails ; bis honor leaned to a bollef in the pris-
' oner’s guilt, aud the jury retired.
After an Absence of tour hours, during which
1 time they sent for elucidation on several points
to the court, tho twelve returned with a verdict
of—Not guilty 1
1 No demonstrations of delight followed • tho
announcement of the verdict. The accused
■ hewed to the jury and was discharged.
’ That day he loft B and died ten years
later without unravelling, if be could, the secret
of the Judge’s death.
Years afterward, when the old courthouse
was demolished, a rusty dagger was found m
the belfrey, and the slats of tho blind windows
showed evidences of removal, as if to admit
and let out a man!
Tho discovery renewed speculation on B ’s
great murder; that was alt.
A CLEVER" SCOUNDREL.
He Hoaxes a Judge and Doctors by His
Acting of Disease.
’ (From the Devizes, Eng., Gazette, April 18.)
“It is a dreadful thing to pass sentence upon
a man in such a state!” said thejudgo at the
Wiltshire Assizes, on Friday, tho 12th inst.
His lordship seemed moved almost to distress
at the pitiable object who, with an injured
spine, was brought into court lying helplessly
on a stretcher, and who could only feebly plead
guilty to the charge alleged against him. “The
. infliction you are suffering under,” said the
judge. “ surpasses any punishment I can give
you !”
Had Neale been in ordinary health he would
undoubtedly have had penal servitude, for it
was not his first act of felony; but who could
find the heart to carry out the extreme rigor of
, the law in the case of a poor soul who would, to
ali appearance, never again be able to rise from
tha pallet on which he lay, writhing in all tha
agony of an injured spine. So much did his
lordship feel this, that, having first sentenced
him to eighteen months, his conscience seemed
to-have smitten him, and he reduced it to
twelve.
It appears thatdn October last Nealo was ap
prehended for stealing a mare, the property of
Mr. John Smith, of Duckington, and was lodged
in Malmesbury Lock-up previous to his trans
mission to Devizes. On the fallowing morning,
when the police visited his cell, they found him
lying on the floor, unable to move. His state
ment was that he had got up to look out of tho
window, when he fell backward across the cor
ner of the bedstead and injured his spine.
Medical advice was obtained, and his sad con
dition at once appreciated. In tact, he ap
peared t-o bo almost irretrievably injured, and
to be Buffering the greatest agony—and to re
move a man a distance of twenty miles under
such circumstances would have been the hight
ot cruelty. He accordingly remained at Malmes- ;
bury for nine weeks, during which time every* .
thing which humanity could suggest to miti- i
gate his sufferings was resorted to. A person
was kept in constant attendance upon him ; alb ;
kinds of nutritious things were ordered for him, ■
such as roast fowl, grog. &c., and his comfort ;
was studied with the utmost solicitude.
At the end of nine weeks it was thought that ,
he might bear the»journey to Devizes, and in
January last a conveyance was obtained (be- <
longing to Mr. Walter Powell, M. P..) long i
enough to hold a bed, and with great care and
no little anxiety he was brought to the county :
jail, and was at once carried to the infirmary.
Two men were specially detailed to attend to
his necessities ana minister to his comfort; for
L the medical officer, and another doctor be i
brought with him to see “the case,” were, like
t the medical gentlemen at Malmesbury, both of
opinion that tbe poor fellow’s spine was sori-
1 ously if not permanently injured.
( In this melancholy state he was brought bs
t fore the Judge on Friday last, and a general
murmur of pity, amounting almost to a shud
der, ran through the court as those present be
f held the pallet with the injured man lying help
lessly upon it. A breathless silence prevailed
as the poor fellow was sentenced to twelve
5 months’ imprisonment, and the pallet, with its
■ occupant, was carried back to the prison.
And now comes the sequel. To proqe afbrm
. er conviction, the Deputy Governor of Glouces
ter jail, had been summonen to Devizes, and on
’ going over the jail, a close inspection enabled*
” him to recognize in Neale an old “ invalid ” with
whom ho formerly had to deal.
Halloa I” said tbe deputy governor, as he
’ scanned tho countenance of the crippie, “ Hol
loa ! what, at your old game ? That fellow,”
j said he, “is an impostor. There is no more the
' matter with his spine than there is with mine.”
. Impossible, it was thought. The deputy
j governor must be deceived. However, Dr. Clap
t ham, the medical officer, thought it worth while
to communicate with the surgeon ot Gloucester
L jail, aud the reply he received so entirely con
t firmed tho"deputy governor’s statement that he
j determined to test the point in such away as
should put it beyond doubt whether Neale was
} really the great sufferer he appeared to be, or
. an arrant knave.
’ Taking with him Dr. Carles's and Mr. Waylen,
he went to the prison on Sunday last, and hav
ing put the man through a severe examination,
the previously-formed opinion of tho doctors
began to waver. Still the man protested that
his sufferings and his injuries were real, and
he seemed totally unable to move. To put the
matter to a further test, a galvanic battery was
’ introduced, and tbe “ shocks ” were turned on
’ pretty strong. All, however, failed to produce
the expected' result. The man was no more
1 able to move during aad after the shocks than
r he was before. So the doctors left. The mor
r row came, and as it came so it found Neale ly
ing in tbe same position as he bad
lafu for the six previous months —if
. possible,in greater pain than ever. Re
gardless, however, of all demonstrations of
e suffering, the electric machine was again set
to work, and so sharp was the effect that the
. leg which had appeared most affected by the
spinal injury began to move, until at last, un
able to stand the shocks any longer, tho fellow
jumped out of bed, and m a few minutes after
ward was walking across the courtyard to ob
tain his prison clothes, as lithe and agile on his
’ pins as any man within the prison walls.
1 A clever scoundrel! Electricity has pro
duced many wonderful results, but none more
I wonderful than its effect on Charles Neale. It
; is too late to give him the desert (of penal ser
' vitude) which would inevitably havo awaited
j him but for his “pitiable condition.”
! A young lady being asked how sho could
) possibly afford, in hard times, to take music-lessons,
j |ep4od. “ Oh. I confine myself to the low notes.” '
HUMOR OF THE HOUR.
BY THE -DETROIT EREE PRESS FIEND.
HOME INFLUENCE.
At an auction sale of miscellaneous goods on
Michigan avenue, the auctioneer put up a wol
robe and invited bids. An old man inspected il
closely, seemed to think there was a bargain in
it, and yet he hesitated to bid.
“Don’t you want it?” asked the auctioneer.
“ Yes, kinder,” was the reply.
“ Then why don’t you bid and take it ?”
“Wall, I’vo bought heaps o’ things in dry
goods and so on,” slowly rejoined the old man,
“and I never yet took home anything that the
old woman thought was worth the price. If 1
got that ’ere robe for even fifteen cents, she’d
grab it up, pull at one end, chew on a corner,
and call out: ‘Cheated agin—more’n half cot
ton!’ That’s tho reason I dasn’t bidl”
NO USE TRYING.
Yesterday forenoon after an express wagon
had delivered a box on Park street the woman
of the house called to the “head boy ”of the
family, who was playing marbles on the walk:
“Henry, you come in here and carry out this
box. Leave it on tho verandah with tho ‘C. O.
D.’ turned to the street.”
“It’s awful stylish to get a box by express
marked ‘ C.O.D.’ isn’t it ?” he asked.
“It is, Kbnry.” she answered, and ho soon
had the box in place. He stood around to
watch the effect on pedestrians, and it wasn’t
long before no had a bite. A boy came along,
saw the box, and in a contemptible tone, ho
called out:
“C—o—D—soap! Well, I didn’t know that
they had a soap factory here!”
The boy of the house winced a little, but had
fully recovered when an old vag shuffled up and
leaned on the fence to bawl out;
“D—O—C—doctor! I’m old and dirty and
ragged, but if I couldn’t spell better than that
I’d take my darned old chicken-coop of a sign
into the house and mash it.”
He had not moved thirty feet before tho boy
rushed into the yard and dragged tho box off
the stoop and kicked it around, calling out:
“We hain’tupper-crust folks nohow, and ma
might just as well take down them two shilling
lambrequins, sell her opera glass and be lower
crust and feel natural.”
HORSE-BREAKING.
GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF HOW
IT IS DONE IN BUENOS AYRES.
{From the. Nineteenth Century Magazine.')
The horses having been brought together
into the corral were driven round the enclosure
at full gallop. Six gauchos, armed with lassos,
then entered the ring, and singling out a mare
or a foal, they threw their lassos at the animal
in such a manner as to catch both the front
legs. The horse, being caught by the fore legs,
falls over on the shoulder with a heavy thud,
and must often receive a serious if not a per
manent injury. The gaucho, holding the legs
firmly, proceeds to make a circle round the fal
len animal. He graduaHy succeeds in catching
one of the hind legs, draws it close to the fore
legs, and so binds the three together. After
this the horse is powerless.
After witnessing for some time the dexterity
with which the lasso can be used, the stallion
which bad been herded with tho troop of mares
was singled out and captured. He bad never
been ridden before, and we were now to see an
exhibition of the rare skill and courage m the
saddle for which the gaucho horsemen are fa
mous. The horse having been thrown by
means of the lasso, as it has already been ex
plained, the process of saddling and bridling
shall be described in the graphic and accurate
language of Mr. Darwin.
• The gaucho, sitting on the horse’s neck, fixes
a strong bridle, without a bit, to the lower jaw;
this he does by passing a “narrow thong through
the eye-boles at tho end of the reins, and sev
eral times rouud both jaw and tongue. The
two front legs are now tied closely together
with a strong leather thong, fastened by a slip
knot. The lasso, which bound the three to
gether being then loosened,the horse rises with
difficulty. The gaucho, now holding fast the
bridle fixed to the lower jaw, leads the horse
outside the corral. If a second man is present
(otherwise the trouble is much greater), he
holds the animal’s head while the first puts on
the horse clothes. When the saddling is fin
ished the animal is, from fear and previous ex
ertion, white with foam,and sweat.
The process, as described by Mr. Darwin,
was closely folio wed in the present instance.
A sheepskin, however, was substituted for a
saddle, and the domador, or horse breaker, only
used the stirrup to mount his horse. Before he
was saddled the horse made tremendous strug
gles to get free, but a powerful and active gau
cho, arrayed in a red shirt, black riding boots,
his long black hair streaming in the wind—al
together a most striking and picturesque per
sonage—held him firmly with the halter, and
by the exertion of great muscular strength was
enabled to resist the struggler. At length the
domador mounted his hitherto unridden charg
er. The lasso was cast loose from the fore-legs,
and the animal, pursued by a gaucho on horse
back, who plied him sharply with the whip, and
harassed by a troop of cogs barking furiously
at his heels, was free to do his utmost to throw
his rider.
The great object was to keep the horse in
constant and rapid movement. While at a hard
gallop, the horse could neither kick nor plunge
in such a manner as to disturb the equilibrium
of an accomplished horseman; but wnen, as it
happened from time to time, the horse stopped
abruptly, arched his back, threw his head down
and then made a great back jump, executing in
a strange way a figure of 8 in mid-air, alighting
on his fore legs, and with his hind legs kicking
desperately, it required horsemanship and mus
cular power of no ordinary kind on tne part of
his rider to keep his seat unshaken.
dThe domador scarcely touched tho bridle;
bathe clasped the horse with a grip of iron, his
knees were buried deep in tho sheepskin sad
dle, and his bare heels were fixed as firmly as
with a vise under the horse’s belly. After many
a desperate rush, many a vehement struggle,
and many furious gallops to and fro, guided in
his mad, erratic course by the lash of his rider
and the attendant gaucho, the wild horse was
brought back to the corral, exhausted, and for
the moment subdued by the power of his rider
and his own unaccustomed efforts.
OPPOSING PROGRESS.
AIRS. BEEZES EXPRESSES HER
OPINION OF THE PHONOGRAPH.
(From the Cincinnati Breakfast-Table.)
“Do you think I’m a tarnation fool ?” said Mrs.
Beezcr to her nephew, who was telling her about
the wonders of the telephone and the phono
graph. “Ain’t you ashamed of yourself, Heze
kiah Bidaker, to «et thero with a face like a dea
con in class mooting and tell such outlandish
lies ? I don’t know nothing about science, as
you call it, but I-reckon I’ve got common sense,
and I wouldn’t believe it if you was to get up
and swear to it on a stack of Biblos as big as
this bouse, that anybody could speak loud
enough to be beard six hundred miles with tho
wind egin ’om, and as for winding up the speech
of people into a machine, and then getting it
out again whenever you wanted to, by just turn
ing a little crank, I wouldn't believe it, no, not
if you was to turn black in the face telling it.”
“But it’s all true, aunt, every word I’ve said
to you, and I ean road it to you in this paper,”
protested tho young man. “It’s the greatest
discovery of the age, and everybody is fairly go
ing wild over it.”
“Hezekiah! Now tell me, ain’t yon fooling ?
Is it really there in plain letters and spelling ?”
“Yes, aunt, and here’s a picture of the ma
chine.”
“Let’s see,” and the old lady took tho paper
and looked long and carefully at the cut of the
phonograph. “It may be, but it looks more
like a patent churn. Read what it says about
it.”
Tha young man road the account carefully,
while she kept a close eye on him to see that
he was not making it up as he went along.
“ Now, aunt, what do you think ? Ain’t it just
as I told you? Only think—a person’s voles
may be heard years and years after they’re
dead,” exclaimed tho youth with enthusiasm.
"Well, it all that is there in print 1 suppose
that there must ba something in it; but I want
to tell you, boy, what my candid opinion is
about it. It’s the doings of Satan, and there
won’t be no good come out of it to nobody. It’s
the work of the old boy, and will make mischief
for all them that has anything to do with it,
sure. I heard he’d been turned loose for a
thousand years, and now. 1 believe it. Dear
mel what’s to become of us'-all? Why, I
wouldn’t have one of them machines in tho bouse
when I’m overhauling Beozer lor his shortcom
ings, no—not for any money. Landsakos!
What lotsjaf devilment thero is in the world
lately, to bo sure! dome to think of it. I hon
estly believe that concern has been got up on
purpose so that no poor woman could have her
say any more with any peace or comfort.
What’s to hinder these newspaper' folks from
slipping into every bouse and rigging one of
’em up along side of tho gasmeter ? But I
don’t care. I’ll keep on giving Baezer a piece
of my mind whenever 1 think bo needs it, if it
breaks every cog in the box."
ASTONISHING AN ELEPHANT
HOW HE WAS CHASED BY A LOCO
MOTIVE.
The locomotive astonishes the elephants of
India quite as much as it does tho buffaloes of
tho great American plains. The Rangoon
Times mentions ono elephant in particular that
was very badly astonished:
A passenger train, running on an outward
trip, had gone about thirty-five miles from
Rangoon, when a large elephant was seen to
break through the fence and get on the lino.
Steam was shut off, and Mr. Stone tried to open
the waste cocks, which being in front of the
engine would, by ejecting hot water some dis
tance ahead, induce “ tusks” to leave the track.
The cock was slightly stiff and could not read
ily be opened, and the engine was soon upon
the unfortunate beast.
Tho brute had turned tail, and fled on seeing
tho engine, but was speedily caught. The but
ler beams of the engine being very low, the
beast’s hind legs wore taken from under him,
and he was forced to sit down, as it were, with
his hindquarters against the smoke-box door,
which was of course nearly rad hot. The pooi
boast managed to keep his fora feet going,
though hustled along faster than ever he had
gone in his life before, and in a few minutes
ths train came to a stand-still, and ho got
away.
He moved off the line at the double, uproot
m od a clump of bamboos, then wreaked dire ven
lf geance on a tree, and was last seen rushing
it through tho jungle, tearing and smashing
m everything in his path. He was sadly cut and
burned in the hindquarters, and will probably
never be of use again. The mahout luckily
escaped with his life, while those on the en
gine may safely congratulate themselves on
7 their escape.
10 '
Executing Bogg, the Winter God. —
A. curious ceremony is performed every year in Zur
ich (Switzerland), on the eve of the so-called Sech
n selauten, the ancient Spring festival of the Tigu
n rines, as our forefathers often classically named the
io people of Zurich. The Sechselauten new serves as
s; a kind of Protestant carnival for tho mass of the
g population, while the old city guilds figuie in it
j much as our City companies do in tho Lord Mayor’s
• Show. The principal group in this year’s proces
sion was.a satirical composition representing the
13 last novel reform for which the handful of Social
Democrats in the city of Zwiugli have been agita
n ting during the past Winter, “ the monopoly of the
io corn trade by the State.” But the most popular
’t ceremony belongs to the eve, rather than to the fes
f tival itself. This is the solemn condemnation and
’’ execution of tho hated Winter. It seems to be a
theory of the Sechselauten that Winter to
. end on the 31st March, and that Spring should be
gin on the Ist April. After sunset ou the last day
of March, multitudes of men, women, and children
a collect together on the Stadthausplatz, lin order to
d, witness the burning of the unlucky “Bogg.” The
hard, cold winter-god is supposed to be incarnate
J in this Tigurine Guy Fawkes of tho namo of Bogg,
t and there is the most jubilant exultation over this
curious auto dafe — a survival of old German Pagan
ism which the iconoclasm of Zwingli and Bullinger
left untouched. During the burning of the Winter-
7 god this year, the crown of the neighboring Ueth
ti berg was white with snow, a sign that the bard Zu
rich Winter was not over, so that tho experiment
a with the Bogg was a little daring and venturesome,
g The execution of the Bogg has occasionally been
p. put off until a later, and less wintry, day in April.
This was the case last year. Yet, when the citizens
arose next morning, the Bogg seemed like the phoe
nix to have arisen from his ashes and declared that
his reign was not ended, for the city and tho whole
neighborhood wore tho appearance of a Winter
landscape, every street and field being white with
v snow.— Eng. Paper,
Dancing to a Bear, and the Bear
getsLoosic. —The town of Avesnes, in France, has
been the scene of no ordinary bear-fight. A muz
}r zled animal was disporting in the marke t-place to
■e the sound of tho violin, and had collected a circle of
3, admirers, while a M. Joseph Mansy added to the
• Q public enjoyment by dancing the vis-a-vis of the
j bear. One of the spectators had, as the French pa
pers say, the deplorable idea of letting loose a bull
dog at the animal performer. Tho poor muzzled
j* creature was unfairly handled during the first
b round, but in the second the fastenings broke and
■“ tho bear was free. Disdaining to tackle the dog, h«
8 rushed on his human tormentors. Poor Mansy,
I- whose intentions had been of the best,was the fore
g most victim. The bear struck him ou the lace, lay
e ing open bis chin to the bone. First blood tor the
_ bear. Workmen came up with pitchforks, and
waged a doubtful battle. The military then oi
7 course appeared on the scene and charged the boar
with the bayonet. After a gallant struggle tho crea
-11 ture, with whom it may not be unpatriotic to sym
-8 pathize, was overpowered by the French soldiery,
r and re-muzzled. The following persons swell tue
q roll of his conquests: Theodore Rougemont, a rail
e way porter, has a bite ou the knee and some bruises;
. Ernest Janson goes with his arm in a sling, and is
lame of one leg; Edouard Viseur baa a cut in the
1 thigh; Alfred Magy’s hand was nearly bitten off. A
few other spectators were slightly hurt. The bear
o is gravely wounded, and shows the natural good
-3 ness of his heart by licking the hand of his master,
to whom he is seriously attached. The people of
s Avesnes are unlikely to revive the sport of amateur
j boar-baiting.
2
Ingenious Use of a Kiss.—The An
e vergnat is the Paddy of France; but like the Irish
r Paddy he sometimes redeems his character for na
j tive stupßlity and belies his reputation. A water
carrier, born and bred in Auvergne, but established
~ in the French capital for the last year or two, reck
a oned among tho customers whom he supplied with
e tbeir daily water a young married couple, whom
Q neither by threats nor entreaties could he succeed
t in inducing to settle a long standing account. The
3 invariable excuse with which the young wife, who
was her own servant, put him off, was that her lord
_ was out. The Auvergnat, a patient fellow, accepted
e the excuse for a time, but at length patience being
exhausted, and his faith in the lady’s diurnal as
sertion diminished, he determined to try a Little
*> plan of his own for bringing confusion upon the
• heads of his debtors. A few mornings ago, after
a replenishing the domestic water fountain, he asked
y madams if monsieur was within. Most annoyingly,
e Monsieur has just gone out to the coiffeur’s," re
■- plied the lady calmly; but the very next moment
the report of a formidable kiss brought the
; tant absentee before the water carrier’s eyes, his
I ’ cheeks crimson with jealousy. “Wretch I” ejaculated
the outraged spouse; “I’m not a wretch, 'iwas but
* a sly trick,” objected the Auvergnat, who speedily
a pacified the tempest he had raised in the martial
8 breast by explaining that the kiss had been bestowed
e upon his own horny hand, and not on the lady’s
. ruby lips. The result of the ruse was that the little
( account which had necessitated it was promptly
1 settled.
1 The Electric Light.—The Dynamo-
V Electric Light, says the San Francisco Chronicle,
v which has nightly for some time past been flashed
over the city from tho Mechanics’ Pavilion, was ex
-1 hibited last evening as a means of illuminating th®
1 inside of this immense building, quito a number of
q ladies with their escorts being present.
Q The machine used was of 12,000 candle power,
I from which two lights were obtained of about 6,000
caudle power each, and the nave of the Paviiioa was
so brilliantly lighted that a fine needle thrown upon
Q any portion of the main floor, not in shadow, could
11 bo easily seen. With a 10,000 candle power machine
? and ten lights the Pavilion could be lighted as thor-
J otighly ‘and vividly as is any open place by the
- brightest noonday sun. As all the necessary power
f for working tho machine is already in place in the
building, the latter could be lighted with tea lights
. during the Fair at a cost not exceeding $1 per night.
’ Wnen it is considered that during last year’s Fair
a the Gas Company charged $lO7 for a light immeaii
’ urably inferior in both power and effect to the eleo
-8 trie one, the advantages of the latter at once appear.
Y One of these machines costs about $2,000, and at
, the rate ot $lO7 per light the Mechanics’ Fair wou d
1 pay for one in a trifle over eighteen evenings iu the
r saving of gas alone, and, allowing the Fair to last
3 forty days, clear about $2,300 by the operation.
r Answers to Correspondents.-Eure
reka Politician. —You had better remain where you
are. As a rule meaner men are elected to offira in
Eureka than in Elko county.
Policeman.—lt is always better to arrest and dis
arm a man before beating him over the head with a
six-shooter. It is safer and more systematic, and
I it is tho rule generally adopted by the police in
large cities.
Subscriber.—lt makes no particular difference
whether you pay your subscription or not. It
doesn’t cost anything to speak of to run a newspa
• per in Tuscarora, and we can always realize enough
t lor personal expenses by disposing of our ex
- changes to proprietors of Chinese wash houses for
- wrapping paper.
Chesterfield.—Shying a spittoon thro ugh a mirror
x is regarded as a gross breach of hurdy-house eti
_ quette. At a select hurdy ball the recognized lull
dress lor a gentleman-.is a stiff-brimmed hat and a
> whistler.
? Amelia, Elko.—First pare your eorn carefully with
8 a carpenter’s drawing-knife. Cutout the crown of
1 a felt bat and spread ou the inner surface a thick
3 coat ©f Hucks & Lambert’s axle grease. Use this as
1 a plaster, and in a few days you can easily pry out
t the loosened roots with a crowbar.— Tascarorat^v..
_ Ti.nes-Review. >
6 The Young Lady and the Goat. —ln
, Charleston, S. C., amusements appear to be scarce
J during Lent, and the young people cau’t hold in. A
lot of young ladies, bent on fun and mischief, pur
t chased a joint interest iu and got a clear title to a
- sturdy old goat, which, for various reasons, they
wished to change its residence from their noighbor
? hood. Then they got up a goat raffle, with the con
» dition that the winner of the goat should ride him
home. Their gentlemen friends all joined in the
spirit of the fun and speculation, and went in live y
for chances. Tho ladies also took a few chanoes
r slyly. The list was soon filled, and the time and
3 place for the great raffle were set. There was a jolly
9 crowd. The goat for sacrifice was tied to a lence
t outside while his doom hung over him. The blind
goddess who shakes the dice-box turned the tide of
fortune in favor of one of the young ladies who got
j up the scaeme and was most interested in the change
of the goat’s residence. She was shocked. She had
, not drawn an elephant, but a pestiferous billy-goat—
r just as bad. But tha die was cast, and she had to
3 submit—yet not to tfie terms. She flatly refused to
0 ride the goat home, as per specification. She led
the animal to her house in the darkness of night,
3 followed by a merry crowd of goat-rafflers, who en
t joyed the novel Lenten amusement immensely.
s Didn’t Want War.—Captain Thomp
-3 son, the Piute sub-chief, says the Austin, Nev., Rev
f elite, is the possessor of a plug hat, on which he sets
etore as the most valued item of all his personal
property. Ho is very careful of the hat aud only
14 wears it on Sundays aud other state occasions. Last
r evening he entered the residence of Marshal Bren
l nan, and accosting that gentleman okiied permission
0 to leave the hat in the house for safe keeping. He
said the wind “heap blow” through his wickiup,
I and that the storms entered therein, and that it was
j altogether an unsafe depository for the cherished
hat. The marshal declined the trust. He told the
j brave that bis house was infested with bedbugs;
that the bedbug was the uocomproming foe of that
r other animal taat is peculiar to the headgear aud
'• other clothes of the rad man, and if he were to take
3 the bat into the house it would be a case of Greek
f meet Greek, and the tug of war would surely be
I tugged. The marshal is a. man whose ways are
a those of peace, and he did not want the Eastern
t question introduced on his jiremises, nor the bed
bugs to call out tbeir reserves, nor Thompson’s bat
to mobilize its forces, and therefore he assumed an
attitude of strict neutrality aud advised the Indian
P to hide his fiat in some abandoned, prospect shaft.
A Sad Misadventure. —A curious case,
in relation to which the medical attendant cannot
be entirely absolved from blame, occured recently
at one ot the Strasbourg hospitals. The patient was
f affect ed with paralysis of the extensors from lead
t poisoning. Strychnin^pills were ordered, but they
a seemed to produce no effect whatever. Ths num
t her of pills was, therefore, gradually increased to
five daily, still without effect. Analysis of the strych
i nine showed tuat the substance was pure. Unable
1 to unravel the mystery, the surgeon administered
a five pills himself, with tho effect of causing almost
0 sudden death. The pills previously missing were
’• discovered sometime afterward concealed behind
a tha man’s bed; and hence the presumption of a tal
o cranes which led to the misadventure.
i-
The Pope’s Tapestries.—The Pope
- has ordered that all the tapestries scattered about in
n the Vatican shall be collected and arranged in chro
nological order and according to schools. Among
rr the most remarkable are the Flemish tapestries of
the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries;'those de
" signed by Raphael, which were saved when Home
0 was sicked in 1527, aud a great quantity of Gobelins
b tapestry. Specimens of the last class are particu
n lariy numerous, as for two centuries the French
ri I Court was accustomed to send a “Gobelin” every
>r | year as a present to the Supreme Pontiff,
■ Pleasure fob a Child.—Douglas Jer—
I rold wrote thus pleasantly of child life: “Blessedl
3 be the hand that prepares a pleasure for a child, for
t there is no saying when end where it may’agalS
bloom forth. Does not almost everybody remem®
. her some kind-hearted man who showed him S
m kindness in the days of his childhood ? The writei
f of this recollects himself, at this moment, as a bare«<
• footed lad, standing at the wooden fence of a pooS
• little garden in his native village, where, with
1 ing eyes, he gazed on the flowers which were bloom*'
r ing there quietly in the brightness of a Sundajt
r morning. The possessor came forth from his littka"
. cottage; he was a wood-cutter by trade, and spent/
! the whole day at work in the woods, Ke was
ing into the garden to gather flowers to stick in hia
coat when he went to church. He saw the boy, and(
breaking off the most beautiful of his
which was streaked with red and white, he gave
to him. Neither the giver nor the receiver said at
word, and with bounding steps the boy ran home.
And now, here at a distance from that home, aftei;
so many events of so many years, the feeling ofi
gratitude which agitated the breast of that boy ex
. presses itself on paper. The carnation has long!
since withered, but now it blooms afresh.’*
> A Strange Experience.—The Water*
J town (N. Y.) Dispatch says : “Twenty-three years
ago, Mrs. Ellen Phillips, now residing on Factor J
' street, Watertown, lived in Utica. Ono evening*
while dancing her baby on her knee, she felt a shara
' pain in her left foot, and on examining her slipped
found a small bole in it, as though made by a nee-*
die. She at once sent for a doctor, who examined!
her foot, and pronounced his opinion that no neodla
was in it. Seventeen years passed on, the circum
stance was practically forgotten, but six years agot
the point part of a broken needle of less than hall
the length worked its way through aud came frenu
her left leg. This brought to her mind tho occur
rence of so many years before, and the perforated]!
slipper was the subject of conversation again for at
time. In its turn it was forgotten, until last Tues
day, when the remainder of the needle, the eye, witH
a little more than half the shank, was pulled from hen
right leg, a little above the knee. After finding a
resting-place in this woman’s body for twenty-threa
years, tho needle was not rusted, although some
what discolored. The story sounds queer, but it is
vouched for by Mrs. Phillips, and some of her neigh?
bors, who believe her.
Depths of Lakes.—The Bavarian Con
tier publishes an interesting comparative state
ment of the depth of lakes. Among European lakes
the Achensee, in the Tyrol, heads the list. Atjsoma
points the depth of this lake amounts to 2,500 feet.
The greatest depth of the lako of Constance is aboufc
975 feot, that of the Chiomsee about 453 feet, ands
that of the Walchen and Konigssee, 611 feet. Thfl(
measurements made about 1870 at tho Dead Sea
. showed that at its deepest part its depth is 1,836
t feet, but if we consider that the level oi this lake is
already 1,394 feet below the level of the Mediterra
nean, then we find that the total depression in th&i
soil here amounts really to 3,230 ft. The Lake of Ti
berias is extremely shallow iu comparison; on iter
eastern part the average depth is only 26 feet, while
on the wester-u side it lies between 19 and 22 feet.j
In Lake Baikal depths have been found which for aa
lake arc truly astonishing. In the upper part of the
lake the depth is 10,800 feet (about the hight o£i
Mount Etna), but downward the bottom constantly
descends, and near the opposite bank the deptii
amounts to 13,230 ft. This depth far exceeds that
of the Mediterranean Sea, which at its deepest jjart
measures only 7.800 feet.
An Apology.—Mr. S. 'S. Merrill, whils
general manager of the Chicago, Milwaukee and St.
Paul railway, stepped off a train at Austin one day to
look about during the halt. Observing that the*
workman engaged in testing the car wheels was moae>
in a hurry to finish his job than to do it well, tha
manager seized the hammer and undertook to shov»
the man how testing should be done. No sooner:
had the workman recovered from his amazement?
than he rudely snatched the hammer back, and re
sumed his occupation, not without sundry scowls
and faces at the individual who had pretened ta
teach him his own business. Subsequently a
bystander told him who the individual was, and, ta
remove his apprehension of coming evil, advi e&
him to apologize. So, when the conductor had
shouted “All aboard!” the son of Erin awkardly
approached Mr. Me-riil, aud while nervously twist
ing a refractory lock of reddish hair, delivered him
self as follows: “ Misther Mirrill, I be’ave? FaitU
I didn’t know I was spaking to you, oat there. You
know I musn’tpay attiution to iviry fool that comes
along.”
Striking a French Sergeant.—At &
couri- m.rtial, just held under the presidency of M.
Delaveau, lieutenant-eolonel of the Second Rigimenft
of Chasseurs, at Miort, a soldier named Piieur was
charged with striking a subaltern officer. It appeared
that at about halt-past ten on the night of the 31 oi
March, Sergeant Jarnot, who was iu comnrind of a
patrol at Partheaay, met the prisoner near an inn,
and asked him to produce his permission to be out.
The man searched his pocket, and then his purse*
and finally asked the sergeant to step inside witbt
him. As soon as they had entered, the prisoner
rushed out and rau along the Poitiers road, the sex--
geaut and the patrol following. He wa-s soon over--
token by Jamot, whom he assaulted, beating and?
kicking him severely. Subsequently, on arriving
near tho police-office, ho again attacked Jamot, audj
was then locked up. Iu reply to questions from tha’
president, the prisoner stated that he was drunk orr
the night retorted to. It appeared that he was ant
old offender, having at the age ot thirteen been con
victed of theft, aud sent to a house of correction*
where he remained five years and a halL The courfr
now passed sentence of death on him.
Beer’s Beneficent Influence. —A re
cent European writer in practical hygiene—who is
undoubtedly a Gorman lover of beer—has stated,
that the beverage consumed forms, to a great ex
tent, the character ot a people. To study the char
acter of each country, a geographical man should!
be made having the beverages' consumed in eacli
indicated by various colors. It will be observed that
iu the countries in which there is little or no con
sumption of beer, such as Italy, Spain and South ofi
France, the people are hot-headed, full of imagina
tion and vivacity. In Germany, where they con«
sume Bavarian beer, which is difficult of digestion,
the people have a dreamy character, with great
calmness and quiet meditation. In the North.of
France and Germany and in Belgium, where true
beers are consumed, there is great energy and de
termination of character, and the same may also ba
said ot Great Britain, where the bsers are evep*
stronger than elsewhere.
An Ingenious Adulteration.—Some -
time ago Dr. Muter says the London Echo, received a
sample of milk which was up to tho average in tha
quantity of total solids present, but which exhibited
only a very low percentage of ash. Practiced testers
ot milk c.nnot easily be deceived, however, and, tha
taste betraying a much higher degree of dilution,-
than the “ solids” indicated, suspicion was aroused.
A more elaborate analysis disclosed the fact that a
most ingenious adulteration had been practiced, tha
foreign matter being glycerine. A twelve per cent
aqueous solation of that body has a specific gravity
practically identical with tho mean of samples of
good milk, and after many experiments Dr. Muten
discovered that as much as 35 per cent of a mixtura
of glycerine aud water might be added to milk
without being detectable either by gravity or by the
ordinary “ solids not fat” process-
Death Penaltter in Scotland.—Un
der the law of Scotland there are at least five-and'-
twenty crimes that are still punishable with death.
The first includes assault with intent to rob tha
house of a clergyman; importing poisons into Scot
land; “theft bote,” or the taking of rewards by jus
tices and sheriffs from thieves; striking or injuring
a judge sitting in court; stealing linen to the valua
of ten shillings from a bleaching green; “hough
ing” cattle; killing young trees or crops; living in
notorious adultery; pulling down any place of wor
ship where the sovereign or the Prinee of Wales are
prayed tor; the saying of mass by Jesuits, priests,
or “ trafficking” papists; engaging in a duel without
the royal license,*ctc. 'this Draconic code is evaded
by clever legal quibhl®, whereby the advocate-gen
eral and his deputies are given power, at any stage
of a trial, “to restrict the pains of law,” so that in
reality prisoners arc only hanged for the same crimes
as in England—murder and treason.
A Tramp Saves a Train.—A few days
ago, says tae St. Louis Republican, a tramp boarded!
a freight train on the St. Louis, Kansas City and
Northern Road, and started for St Joseph, Mo. Ha
was put off the train at Gower, and after the train,
moved out, he started for that city. He had pro
ceeded but a short distance when he discovered a
broken rail, which doubtless snapped in twain aa
the freight train paissed over it in safety. It was on
a high, dangerous curve in the road, and, taking in
the situation, tho tramp remained to flag the first
train to avert danger aud the probable loss of life.
The first train proved to be a passenger train, bound
tor St. Joseph. He flagged it in time, and tho train
and its load of human freight were saved?. Tho
tramp was taken on board, and a large purse of mo
ney made up for him. Ho gave his name aud resi
dence as Sam. B. Klim, Republican City, Kansas
A Sensible Grand Duchess.—The
Grand Duchess of Badon, the only daughter of tha
Emperor of Germany, is a woman of admirable good
sense. She has placed her young daughter in tha
excellent girls’ school in the Schloss, at Carlsruhe,
where she is proceeding step for step with her
young companions, aud teachers and playfellows
have been alike charged not to distinguish Ser by
any of the high and exceptional titles she may bear
iu after-life. She is to work and play, run and wres
tle, give and take, on perfectly equal terms with all
her companions, and to receive exactly the sama
punishments if she is remiss in study, sewing, knit
ting, or any other occupation of an ordinary scholar.
The Grand Duchess is credited with expressing a
wish that the child may be made as thorough a
Beamstress as if she were expecting to earn a liveli
hood by her needle.
Clothes Moths.—The latter end of
Msy and tho early days of June should herald vig
orous and exterminating warfare against tneje sub
tle pests. Cl sets, wardrobes, all receptacles for
ciothing, should be emptied and laid open, their
contents thoroughly exposed to light and air, and
well brushed and shaken before being replacod. In
old houses much infested with moths, all cracks iu
floors, wainscots, shelves, or furniture should bo
brushed over with spirits of turpentine. Camphor
or tobacco should be placed among all garments,
nirs, plumes, etc., when laid aside for the Summer.
To secure cloth linings of carriages from the attacks
of moths, sponge them on both sides with a solu
tion of corrosive sub imate of mercury in alcohol,
made just stzong enough not to leave a white mark
on a black leather.
Premature Enthusiasm. —An bld sol
diet, relating his experience at a temperance meet
ing in lowa, said that at one time he got possession
of two kegs of whisky, took them to c-tmp,
put a faucet in one of them, and passed the whisky
around among the boys until they all got pretty mil.
About the time the keg was empty, he said, for a
moment his conscience told him he was doing:
wrong. He picked up an ax and knocked the head
of the other keg in and (hers he was interrupted by
the deacons starting the cry of “ Amen!” “ Thank
God!” “Glory be to God!”) After the hou-e be
came quiet he continued : “ I knocked in the head
of that keg, gave the boys a tin cup, ana to»d them
to help themselves.” It was a case of premature
enthusiasm, and the wicked scoffers in the audienca
had their turn to shout.
“Vai’s de matter —vat’s de matter ?”
exclaimed an old Dutchman, as he tucked up h a
apron and ran oat of his shop to know the meaning
ox the crowd in his neighborhood—“vat’s de mat
ter?” “There’s a man killed,” ieplied a bystand
’ er. “Oh, ish dot ail ?” said our iriend, evidently
; disappointed; “ish dot all?—shoost a man killed?
’ Humph! I the’u it vas a fight.”
i u You bachelors ought to bo taxed,”
i said Mrs. Lockford to a resolute evader of the noosa
' matrimonial. “ I agree with you perfectly, madam,”
waa the rep l :'. ‘‘ *tr bachelor.sm xs a luxury.”