Grand River times., July 02, 1851, Image 1

About Grand River times. (Grand Haven, Mich.) 1851-18??

Image provided by: Central Michigan University, Clark Historical Library

nn
M
GRAND
MYffi
TIM1ES
VOLUME 1.
GRAND HAVEN, MICHIGAN, WEDNESDAY, JULY 2.1851.
NUMBER 1.
,-4
TIIK GIIAM llIVHlt TIMES
I PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY EVENING, BY
HAKXS & AXOEL.
Office over J! Gaijjin's Store, Washington Street. .
Taken at thf office, or forwarod by Mail 1,00.
Delivered Vv the Carrier in the Village 1,50.
One fililfing in addition to the above will be
charged, lot every three months that payment is
delayed.
No pnpcrdiscontinucd until all arrearages are
paid cxceptat the discretion of the publishers.
TlftMS OF ADVERTISING :
One Squarl, (12 lines or less,) first insertion, fifty
cents, and tienty-flve cents for each subsequent
insertion. Llsal advertisements at the rates pre
scribed by la. Yearly or monthly advertisements
1
as follows :
1 square 1 year, $3,00.
1 column 1 - 20,00.
1 ... 1 month, 5,00.
1 square I rrimth, $1,00,
1 .. 3 L 2,00,
f .. 6 .. 3,00
ITT" Adverisements unaccompanied with writ
ten or verbal iirections, will be published until or
dered out, andj-hnrged for. When a postponement
is added to ai advertisement, the whole will be
charged the ssine as for the first insertion.
lating to business, to receive at
addressed to the publishers post
VCT Letters
tcntion, must
uaid.
VTP" Fartieul
ing. Most kin
constantly on land
r attention given to liianic mm-
of Blanks in use, will be kept
BUSINEI
DIRECTOKY-1831.
HENRY GRIfFIN, Dealer in Staple and fan
cy Dry (loo' lsiieady made Clothing, Hoots and
Shoes, GroceriU, Hardware, Crockery and Glass,
Drugs, Chemifkls, Medicines, Paints and Oils,
and Provisions! Also. Lutnber.bhingles, kc.&c.
Opposite the Washington House, Grand Haven,
Michigan.
j
WILLIAM M. E11RY, Dealer in Dry Goods,
Hardware, Grociies, Provisions, Crockery, Med
icines, Hoots aid Shoes. Water street, Grand
Haven, Michigai
HO PKINS j- BR OTHERS, Storage.Forwardmg
& Commission michants; general dealers in all
kinds of Drv Goo4. Groceries, grain and provis
ions; mnnufcturs and dealers wholesale ana
retail in all kinds a lumber, at Mill l'oint, Mien.
L. M. SMITH, Dent in Drugs, Medicines, &c.
at Mill l'oint, Mien
.
STEPHEN S. MOAROE, Physician and Sur
geon. Office on Ihington street, over J. l.
Davis Tailor Shop.
T.TZYT SIIACKLETXX. Wholesale and Retail
dealer in Groceries. Provisions and Liquors.
First door above iiu'cnnoycr s. asnington
Street. Grand Ilavenliichigan
SIMON SIMENOE,l)eaior in Groceries and
Provisions. Washinjon Street, second door
East of the Ottawa Ilisc.
OTTAWA HOUSE, Henrv Pfxxover.
This House is well fittl and furnished, and the
proprietor is confidentliat visitors will find ac
commodations agreeali, and terms satisfactory.
WASHINGTON IIO$ E, By Edgerly & Os
good. The propriciis lmrc tho vt spring
newly fitted and part re-furnished this House,
and feel confident vltors will find the House
to compare favorablfvith the best in the State.
WILLIAM TELL,
ton- rieasantiy si
wolf furnished, andjic table abundantly sup-
niifd with the luxul-s and substantial? of life.
WILLIAM ORIE
Boots and Shoes nf
promtly attended to
Haven, Michigan
OTEL. Uv Harry Ea
uted with excellent rooms
Boot and Shoemaker.
y repaired, and all orders
aslnngton street, Grand
. H. VHEVENBVG, Boot
Shop over Win, M. rry's sto
CHARLES W. HA 2 I WA Y,
and Shoemaker.
store, Water street.
kinds of work in m
dispatch at my shoj
Blacksmith. All
ine done with neatness and
Mill l'oint, Michigan.
JOHN T. DAVIS,
Washington Street
fin s Store.
HOYT G. POST,
lice over II. Griffin
ington House.
WILLIAM N. .4 A
Ottawa County.
opposite the Wasl
HENRY PENNCt
Countv. Office at
Washington and X
ASA A. SCOTT,
Office over II. Grl
ington House.
TUSTrcc'd at Grits
fj Y. II., II. S., Bh
juice wine, and unt;
reliant Tailor. Shop on
rst door west of II. Grif-
k of Ottawa Countv. Of-
tore, opposite the ash-
JL, Register of Deeds, for
c over II. iinflins store,
ton House.
Ill, Treasurer of Ottawa
Ottawa House, corner of
r streets.
rift of Ottawa County.
f s store, opposite the ash-
?, Old Java and Rio coffee.
and Gun powder teas, pure
Iterated brandy for medical
use only ; Cuba sugi and molasses, loaf, powder
ed and crushed sutf; Eben. Goodwins Sarsapa
rilla; mixed and prf I tobacco, Oronokc, Caven
dish and common t tobaro, bulk, and paper
smoking tobacco; if, nails; 7 9, 8 10 and 10
l lgluss; putty, ch;ffviming,wnucieau,reuieau,
nm
oil
Mnffatt
Casr oil. OuinincW. raisins, nuts, spices, &c. &c.
if A or ready pay at tiic lowest
f irand Haven June 20, 18ol.
gluss; putty, chifpvninng,wnucieau,reuieau,
d other paints, sjjs turpentine, alcohol, sallad
, Lemon syrup ft- Osgood's chologoguc, Dr.
offatt's Life Pill 4I bitters, opium, camphor,
and win be sold f(
possible prvos.
A
LL WOOL,
i
h Carpets for sale cheap at
Griffin's.
q 14 & 15 inch tr. Mill saw files, at
1 ( Griffin's.
-v-r-nr nn..,lnnil'Jm r.. nt ...... ...i.u
W".
. Rowland's1
filed for use
D
R. S. Sawyer's t
the lever & A
w
ISTAR'S Bal
of the lungs
M
AYNARD&Nc
writing ink fo
EADY Made
at
A
N assortment o
T.TOUSE AND L
JLX bcr Intending
at a banrain his ho
on the high ground
commanding a tine
Michigan. The pro
adjoining, is well ca
boarding establishmc
fviot mill saws, with teeth
Ferrs Pattern" for sale by
WM. M. l'ERRY.
Extract of bark, a cure for
at W m. M. Ferry 8.
f Wild Cherry for diseases
Wm.M. Ferry's.
& Davis & Blacks, superior
at M.M. TERRY'S.
;, Summer styles, for sale
WM. M. TERRY S.
ks for sale at
Levi Siiackleton's.
OR SALE. The subscri
be Grand Haven, offers
d lot, fronting the river,
h of Eatou'8 Hotel, and
of the river and lake
including the Ball Alley
cd for a public house, or
nu with little expense can
be made to accomiltc. as manv travelers or
uimrucrs as any in ti
i Mainour,
Grand II
lu-ca clear title civen.
For terms which vavcrv low. anr,lv tn the
subscriber, or at this l
aven. l W. W. Kanouse.
INDIAN MAIDEN'S GRAVE.
BY C. C. TORREY.
Beside a brook whose pensive tone
Broke the deep stillness of the dell,
As over rock and smooth-worn stone,
Its limpid waters gently fell,
Majestic oaks their branches waved,
And quivering aspens softlv 6ighed,
The hawthorne bloomed, and willows laved
. Their branches in the chrystal tide.
The moonlight through the trembling leaves,
Spangled the earth with silvery light,
The evening mist, in airy wreaths,
Hung o'r the brook a mantle bright.
Half hid mong the silken grass.
Beneath an aged willow's 6hadc,
Beside a milk-white marble Cross,
On which the moon beams sweetly played,
A little mossy mound arose,
Alone amid that quiet spot,
To mark where, in her last repose,
Lay one by all but one forgot.
She was a beauteous Indian maid.
Who here, long years ago, had died,
And here, by him she loved, was laid,
To sleep the murmuring brook beside.
But now it was the noon of night,
When from a cavern's gloomy span,
Stole forth into the moon's pale light
A haggard, lean, infirm old man.
His white hair floating in the breeze.
With tottering steps and downcast look,
Emerging from beneath the trees,
His way toward the grave he took.
And there before the Cross he knelt,
And meekly, on the midnight air,
To Him who all our sorrows felt,
Poured out a humble fervent prayer,
That she who won his earliest love,
Though unbaptized and unconfessed,
Might find with him a home above,
And spend with him an endless rest.
And thus, 'tis said, for many a year,
Mid summers dews and winter's snow
Each midnight hour has found him there,
To pray for her who 6leeps below.
In
THE WATCHER,
a dark room, in a ruined and wretched
house, in one of the most filthy districts of a
great citv, a mother sat wutching her sleeping
babe. "The infant was lying on a hard pullet on
the floor, and the mother was sitting beside it
on a broken chair, plvinir her needle with eager
haste, and occasionally pausing to look down at
her babe or to kiss it as it lay asleep. The child
was pale and sickly, and in tho close, offensive
air of the room it eemed to breathe painfully
and to inhale, with every pulse of its tender
heart, the insidious principles of death and dis
solution. But not less pale and wan was the
mother, who sat there watching; her features
wore that blauehed.unearthly hue,while a strange
upward light was phiy'ng in her eyes, which
spoke but too plainly that death was breathing
on her. The room was lonely very lonely
for tliuroifure.no picture to adorn its Walls,
Hcarcely any articles of common domestic use
within it; it was bare, almost unfurnished, dis
mal, and cold. Tho mother was engaged in ma
king shifts, and the price which she received for
them averaged two-pence-half-penny each ; and
it is said that by extraordinary exertions for 20
hours out of twenty-four, the sum of three shil
lings may be earned weekly at such labor. Well,
the pale care-worn suffering mother continued
to sikeh, stitch, anxiously from hour to hour,
leaving off now and then to take her dying baby
in her arms and to press it fondly to her breast,
until the tide of her heart's affection came steal
ing forth in tears; and recollecting that the next
meal for herself and child must be earned by the
continued labor of her jaded hands, she placed
the infant on its bed,' and again resumed her
work.
Thus many hours had passed in a silence bro
ken only bv the low moanining of the child, as
it turned to and fro in the feeble expression of
long-continued anguish, and tho deep sighs of
the mother as she gazed anxiously upon its fe
vered face, and saw the stamp of want and mis
ery there in an expression akin to the imbecili
ty of years. At length the babe awoke, and the
mother took it tenderly into her arms; she press
ed it to her breast and kissed the cold dew from
from its foreVad. And now she began to pre
pare her humble meal, she placed a few sticks
of wood in the stove and lighted them, and plac
ed an old broken kettle half filled with water up
on them; and then arranged two cups and sau
cers on a small tray, and took a portion of a loaf
from a shelf above. While waiting for the wa
ter to boil she gave her child some food; and
she had scarcely begun to do this when a heavy
and unsteady step was heard upon tho threshold;
her heart leaped with fear, and she trembled like
a moonlight shadow, A creature somewhat in
the semblance of a man staggered into the room,
and threw himself down upon the pallet where
the child had just been sleeping.
" Charles, Charles, do not, for God's sake treat
me thus," said the mother of the child, and she
sobbed loudly, and was steeped in tears.
The man scowled upon her from beneath the
broken brim of a slouched hat, and in a low fiend
ish growl, cursed her. Ilis clothes had been re
spectable in their time, but now were tattered
and slovenly, and his face wore the savage wild
nesa and vacancy of long-continued dissipation.
"I came home to ask vou for money, so give
me what you've got, and let me go, for I havn't
done drinking yet," said he, while tho devil-like
glare of his eyes seemed to pierce the poor moth
er to the soul.
" I tpent my last penny to buy my child some
food, I know not where to get another; you have
never wanted a meal while I could work, and
my poor fingers are wasted to the bone, by mid
night labor and the want of bread, and my poor
child is wnstingaway before my face, while you;
forgetting all the ties that bind a father to his
offspring, or a husband to his wife, take the
very bread from me and my babe, to waste it in
drunkenness; oh, Charles, you loved me once,
but you are killinff mo now. and my poor dear
child." .
" You howling, canting hypocrite, give me
some money and let me go," bawled the intoxi
cated brute, and with a sweep of his hand, as he
sat upon the child's bed, he overturned the ta
ble and scattered tho miserable meal upon the
floor. The heart-broken wife rushed with her
babe to tho opposite end of the room, and cow
ered down in fear. "Do you hear, or do you
want me to murder you?" and he rose from
where he sat and reeled toward her; shrinking
and shivering as she bent over her babe, she
pressed its almost lifeless body to her heart, and
when he stood above her, she looked up in his
face in the agony of despair, and x implored in
the mute utterance of her tear-worn eyes for
mercy. But he did not strike her, although she
was indeed well used to that, but he put out his
hand and taking from her bosom a locket, which
had been a dear sister'a gift, and tho last thing
left her but her babe and death, staggered to the
door, and, after looking back with a menancing
and brutal expression of his savage features, left
her. Although he was gone she moved not, but
sat wailing like a dove whose nest has been be
reft of that which made life dear, and sobbing
loudly in her grief she looked upon her child,
and saw the tokens of pain and want upon its
meagre face, and could feel the throbbing of its
little heart becoming more and and more feeble,
from hour to hour, as the shadow of its life wa9
waning.
And night came, and he laid her child down
to rest, and again sat working and watching.
She kissed it when its low cry startled her in
the midnight silence, and hushed it again to
sleep, for it wanted food and that she had not.
The morning came but it was still night to her,
and the darkness of her woe sat hovering over
her frail soul like the shadow of a great but si
lent misery. She hurried on in the delirium of
extremo weakness that she might complete the
wretched work she had, and get food for her fam
ished child. Intense suffering, long watching,
hunger, cold, and cruelty had blanched a cheek
which had been more fair than snow, and had
carved wrinkles, like those of age, upon a youth
ful brow; death hovered over her like a ghastly
shadow, not to her as to those in comfort ter
rible, but welcome. And thus from hour to hour
and from day to day, that mother labored for her
lonely child, while he, whose heart should have
beat with the devotion of love for her whom
he had sworn to cherish, and whose hand should
have been ever ready to defend her, deeming
nothing too severe, nothing too difficult, which
could bring food and comfort to a woman's
constant heart, came only to rob her of her
last morsel, and to add fresh agonies to her al
most withered soul by imprecations and curses.
One morning, after she had been toiling long
in cold and hunger, she became too weak to la
bor more, and nature faltered. She stooped to
kiss her babe and to ask a blessing on its head
from Him whose benedictions come even to the
sorrowful and needy, and as she bent down
above its little shadowy form, her sorrows over
whelmed her, and she fell down beside her child
and fainted. With none to aid and soothe her
with none to nourish her in her distress of
heart, and no land hand to minister tu the poor
watcher in that hour of affliction, she lay in that
sweet peace which comes to the aching heart
when it can for a time forget its sorrows ; and
better too, perhaps, for her, for her babe was dy
ing, and in the unconsciousness of temporary
death, she knew it not.
She awoke at last, for even the forgetfulness
so dear to the wounded spirit will have an end,
and tho grim bitter realities become palpable
once more; and as consciousness returned she
was startled from her partial dream by the icy
chill which fell upon her when she touched her
child. She shrieked wildly, nnd fell upon her
tace in tfie maddening agony of despair, 44 my
child, my child, oh, my child !" she cried, and tore
her hair in frenzy. Now she became more calm,
and turned round to look upon the babe whose
soul had passed into that better sleep from which
there is no waking. She kissed its cold wasted
form, and bathed its little marble face witli her
scalding tears.
44 Oh, my child," she sobbed, 44 my poor child,
murdered by its father's hand, the victim of his
cruelty ; oh, Father of all, Father of the wicked
and good, take my poor babe to thy fostering bo
som, and let me die too, for my last hope is gone
the last link of my heart's affection is broken;
Father of mercies, listen to the supplications of
a childless mother!
That step ! and the blood goes back to her
heart liko an icy flood, and every pulse is with
ered, as with a bleak and desolating frost; she
holds her breath, and with her dead child in her
arms, crouches down in tho corner on the floor,
and in the silence of despair and terror asks her
God to bless and protect her and to soften his
heart in such an awful moment as this. lie came
to the threshold of the room, and fell prostrate
on the floor, he attempted to approach her; he
was too much intoxicated to rise, and there he
lay muttering, in broken and inarticulate words
the most horrible oaths and imprecations. The
mother spake not, for although, even then she
could have prayed for him in her heart, and
blessed him with her tongue ; ay, and still labor
for him with her hands, if by such she could
win back the old love which had made her youth
ful hours glad, nnd which had spread the rosy
atmosphere of hope before her; but which was
now a thing of silent memory, of sadness, and of
tears.
Thus passed away the morning, and at noon
the drunkard arose from where he lay, and again
demanded what money she had ; she gave him a
few half-pence from her pocket, and he snatch
ed them from her and departed.
To know that he had gone to procure the poi
aon on which he fed, with this last remnant of
the midnight toil, and when his child lay deid
within its mother's arms ; to know that for the
veriest morsel she must toil again sleepless and
famished, and with the withered blossom of her
heart's broken hope beside her; to know that
the last oflice of affection, the burial of the child,
must be performed by those who cared for nei
ther her nor it, and who would desecrate, by the
vile touch of parochial charity, that which had
been more dear to her than her own life ; to
know that all her joys were wasted now.and that
she still lived to hear him curso her in the very
place where death had so lately been; and that
although she sat before him with the sleeping
infant in her arms, while he was too brutalized
by drink to know that that sleep was one from
which it would never more awake, and that
her own terror made her speechless when she
would have told him ; all this was a torrent of
sorrow, before whose overbearing force her win
tered heart gave way, and she sunk down upon
the floor, with the dead babe in her arms, sense
less. t
Sleep came upon her like a poppy spell, and
wafted her silent soul to sweeter worlds, Far
away from her cold and solitary room, far away
from hunger, wretchedness, and tears; faraway
from the keen tortures of maternal sorrow and
the despair of withered love, her spirit wander
ed in that peaceful dream. From earth, as from
a wilderness of ashes, her willing spirit went up
on its upward flight, ascending and ascending.
It neared the blue and shining arch above, and
clapped its wings for joy, and felt within it tho
renovated bliss of innocent and unchanging
beauty. It felt the calming influence of soft mu
sic swelling around it like sunbright waves up
on a summer sea; it saw sweet spots and green
peaceful valleys lying in the rosy light of heav
en, as clouds at evening lie folded up in sleep.
On and on her spirit went in calm and holy maj
esty, amid the shadowy beauty of that pleasant
land. It seemed to bathe in biiss amid bright
galaxies of living and rejoicing worlds, and to
embrace happiness as its long-sought boon.
Through flowery pastures, and falling waters,
perfumed gardens, and star-lighted solitudes
where the soul of music dwelt and lived amid
the sweet echoes of her seraph songs, that moth
er's new-born soul wandered in its freedom, for
getting all the pangs and tears it had so lately
known. Now it passed floating islands of glit
tering beauty where troops of cherubim were
worshiping their God ; and from the midst of a
soft bed of twilight flowers arose an angel host
of babes, soaring in their wantonness of joy to
higher regions of the azure air, and singing their
simple 6ongs in harmony together. From all
the gleaming lights afar came dulcet iiarpings
of angelic wings, and all things in that sweet
dream-land of beauty told of the joy which falls
upon the virtuous soul. The spirit of the mo
ther, dazzled and amazed till now, awoke from
its trance of wonder, and cried aloud 44 my child,
my child, and my husband, where, where arc
they ?" and she sank upon a gleaming bed of pur
pled blooms, and from the odorous sighing of
the lute-toned air the voice of her child came
gladly in reply. And now a joyous troop of star
light seraphs sailed toward her, like a snowy
cloud and inthe midst she sees her darling babe
clapping its little hands in laughing glee, and
overjoyed once more to meet her. Oh, what
bliss is like the feeling of a mother, when her
trusting heart is gladdened by the returnof a
child whom she deemed was lost; and if such
joy awake within the soul amid all the harsh re
alities of ourth, how much more so in the spir
it's home, where nothing but the peaceful tho't
can live, and all earth's grief is banished? It
was her own babe, the bud of hope she had nurs
ed and tended in the dark winter of her earthly
sorrow, now wenring tho same smile which glad
dened her amid the gloom, but holier, fairer, and
freed from all the traces of want and suffering.
The spirits of the mother and the babe embrac
ed each other in the wild joy of this happy meet
ing, Imd the mother's spirit knelt before the
heaven-built temple of light which arched
above, and offered the incense of its prayers for
him whose wickedness . of heart had steeped her
earthly days in bitterness ; but who was yet to
her the token of a youthful hope, and the living
memory of a trusting love. Her earnest spirit,
in the gush of its awakened affection for tho
child of her bosom, called upon its God to have
mercy upon him, and to snatch his soul from the
blackness of its guilt and the impending terrors
of destruction. And the prayer went upward,
and the angels sung.
The drunkard staggered to the wretched home,
and reeling into the silent room gazed upon the
wife and child. They spoke not, moved not ;
he stooped to touch, but recoiled in horror, for
both of them were dead. Tho mother in her
sweet dream, had glided into the blissful even
ing land, and he, the destroyer of a wife and
child, now felt in all the piercing agony of sin
and shame, the scorpion Rtings of conscience.
He fell upon his knees and prayed for mercy !
His withering soul seemed struggling within
him, and ho gasped for breath. He had wan
dered into wicked paths, he had blighted a gen
tle heart by cruelty and neglect, he had wasted
his own child's meal in drunkenness and vil
lainy, while it lay on its mother's breast per
ishing for want of food. He felt all tho ter
rors of remorse, and hell seemed gaping beneath
him I He arose and wept, and the first tear he
shed was carried by invisible hands upward to
that world of peace, as a sacrifice of penitence
to tho kneeling spirit of a mother. He wander
ed away in silence, and where he went were the
falling tears which spoke, in accents eloquent
and true, the silent utterance of his repentant
heart.
Be Good NATURED.-People are naturally good
natured, when they are brought up well, and
have no. more right to be surly and sour than
they have to swear, lie, or steal. We do love a
pleasant, happy face; and whenever we meet
one, it gladdens us like a gleam of bright sun
shine in April. A cross, crabbed face i3 a dread
ful sight. We suppose Hades is filled with such
countenances. It mars our happiness to meet
a man looking as if he thought the devil had a
lien on hira,and was about to foreclose the mort
gage. We know business, cares, anxieties, per
plexities, broken promises, debts and duns, are
rather unpleasant comforters sometimes, but
cheer up and bear a brave heart and a joyous
conntenance; men of sound heads and stout
hearts push ahead, and never be discouraged at
obstacles, and you will work out your own sal
vation from all these difficulties, and rejoice with
us in your own success.
Lord Rochester in his last illness would fre
quently lay his hand on the Bible and say:
"There Is true philosophy, there is wisdom mat
speaketh to the heart. A bad life is the only
grand objection to the book."
The best court of equity, is a good conscience.
An Accommodating Judge. In those days
(from 1818 to 1833,) justice was administered
in the courts without much show, parade or cer
emony. The judges were men of sense and
some learning, who held their courts mostly in
log houses, or in bar rooms of taverns, fitted up
for the purpose with a temporary "bench for Xho
judge, and chairs or benches for the lawyers and
jurors. At the first circuit court in Washington
county, held by judge John Reynolds, on the
opening of the court, the sheriff went out into
the yard and said to the people : 44 Boys come'iu,
our John is going to hold court"
This was the proclamation for opening the
court. In general the judges were averse to de
ciding questions of law. They did not like the
responsibility of offending one or the other of
the parties. They preferred to submit every
thing they could, to be decided by the jury. I
knew one who, when asked for instruction to
the jury, on points of law, would rub his head
and the sides of his face with his hand, and say
to the lawyers: 44 Why, gentleman, the jury
understanding it; they need no instruction no
doubt they will do justice in the case."
This same judge presided at a court in which
a man named Green was convicted for murder,
and it became his unpleasant duty to pronounce
sentence upon the culprit.
He called the prisoner tip and said to him:
44 Mr. Green, the jury say you are guilty of mur
der, and the law says you are to be hung. 1
want you and all your friends down on Indian
creek to know that it is not I that condemns you.
It is the jury and the law. Mr. Green what time
would you liko to bo hung? The law allows
time for your preparation."
Mr. Green said: 44 Slay it please your honor
I am ready at any time ; those who kill the body
have no power to kill the soul. My preparation
is made, and I am readv at any time the court
pleases.
Tho judge replied: "Mr. Green, it is a very
serious matter to be hung; it can't happen to a
man but once in his life, and you had better take
all tho lime you can get. Mr. Clerk, look at
the almanac, and sec whether this day four
weeks comes on Sunday." Tho clerk looked as
directed, and reported that day four weeks came
on Thursday. "Then," said the judge, "Mr.
Green, the court will give you until this day four
weeks. The case was prosecuted by James
Turney, the Attorney General, who interposed
and said, 44 May it please, the Court, on occasions
of this sort, it is usual for courts to pronounce
a formal sentence; to remind the prisoner of his
perilous condition ; to reprove him for his guilt,
and to warn him against the judgment in the
world to come." To which the judge replied :
"Oh, Mr, Turney, Mr. Green understands the
whole matter, he knows he has golto be hung;
you understand it, Mr. Green, don't you ?"
44 Yes," said the prisoner. 44 Then, Mr. Sheriff,
let the prisoner be remanded, and adjourn the
court." St. Louis Republican.
Great Young Men. Don John of Austria
won at the age of twenty-five, the greatest bat
tle of modern times : had it not been for tho
jealousy of Philip, the next year he would have
been L'mperor of Mauritana. Gaston de Foix
was only twenty-two un ho stood a victor on
the plains of Ravenna. Every one remembers
Conde and Rocroy at the same age. Gustavus
Adolphus died at thirtv-eight. Look at his cap
tains; that wonderful Duke of Weimar, only
thirty-six, when he died. Banicr himself, after
all his miracles, died at forty-five. Cortes was
a little more than thirty when he gazed upon tho
golden cupola of Mexico. When Maurice of
Saxony died at thirty-two, all Europe acknowl
edged tho loss of one of the greatest captains
and profoundest statesmen of the age. Then
there is Nelson and Clive but these are warri
ors, and perhaps you may think there are great
er things than war. I do. I worship the Lord
of Hosts. But take the mostillustriousachieve
ments of civil prudence. Innocent III., tho great
est of Popes, was the despot of Christendom at
thirty-seven.
John de Medici was a cardinal at fifteen and
Giucciardina tells us, baflcd with his state craft
Frederick of Arragon himself. He was Pope,
as Leo X, at thirty-seven ; take Ignatus Loyola
and John Wesley; they worked with young
brains. Ignatius was only thirty when he made
his pilgrimage, and wrote the 44 Spiritual Exer
cises." Paspal wrote a great work at sixteen,
the greatest of Frenchmen, and died at thirty
seven, which reminds me of Byron, greater even
as a man, than a writer.
Was it experience that guided the pencil of
Raphael, when he painted the palaces of Rome?
He died, too, at thirty-seven. Richelieu was sec
retary of State at the age of thirty-one. Well,
then, there is Bolingbrooke and Pitt, both min
isters before other men leave off thetricket.
Grotius was in great practice at seventeen, an
attorney general at twenty-four. And Acquiviva
was general of the Jesuits ruled every cabinet
in Europe, and colonized America before he was
thirty-seven. But it is needless to multiply in
stances. The history of heroes is the history
of youth. Exchange.
Cholic in Horses. Cholic in horses is read
ily cured by tying a small piece of tobacco on
the bit of his bridle. The cure is effected when
the tobacco is dissolved in the saliva. We
have 6cen several horses cured in this way when
swelled up badly and in great agony. Ex.
John Adams was a practical business man,
and a careful husbandcr of time. The follow
ing entry appears in his diary, recently publish
ed: "Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.,
All spent in absolute idleness, or, which is
worse, gallanting the girls !"
Why are potatoes and whejvt like the idols
of old 1 Because they have eyes and see not,
ears have they and hear not. -
Thirty-five years ago, a crack steamer ran
from New. York to Albany in twenty-three
hours, and complimentary resolutions were pas
sed to the captain. The same distance is now
run in seven hours and fifty minutes.
Use lav and physic only in cases of uecesai
ty ; good remedies, but bad recreations. ' 1
i