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A BALL At) OF NANTUCXJT. BT 1. B. AL&EKH. “ Where go yoo, pretty Maggie, Where go yon in the ralu 1 ” “ I go to ask the tailors Who sailed the Spanish maift “ If they have seen my Willie, If he ’ll eom* hack to me lt is so sad to have him A-sailing on the sea.” “ 0 Maggie, pretty Maggie, Turn back to yonder town: Yoor Willie’s in the ocean, A hundred fathoms down 1 “ Ills hair is turned to sea-kelp, His eyes are turned to stones. And twice twu years have knitted The coral round Lis bones. “ The blossoms and the clover Shall bloom and bloom again, But never shall your lover Come o’er the Spanish main I” But Maggie never heeded, for mournfully said she : “ It is so sad to have him Availing on the sea.” She left ms in the darkness: 1 heard the sea-gulls screech, And burly winds wero growling Witi. breakers on the beach. The hells of old Nantucket, What touching things-they said. When Maggie lay a-sleeping With lilies round her head. The parson preached a sermon, And prayed and preached again— But she had gone to Willie Across the Spanish main! U.HCLG ZEB. BY MBS. E. H. STODDARD. Uncle Zeb’S monument is umler my win dow in the yard,—its top in a rosebush, and its base on a bed of pinks. The stone cut ter brought it on a truck, and with an air of irreverence launched it into its present position. Uncle Zeb ordered the monument the day after he made his will, and left the duty of paying for it to his executors, although he lived long enough afterward to pay for a dozen of the most elaborate work manship. This monument is a decepttv affair, like most tomb stones; a wreath of hearts ease is carved round the open book on the square o. the pedestal, and a column runs up from it, ornamented with the long stems and flowers of the white water-lily. As 1 hang over the window-ledge, my recol lections of Uncle Zeb assume the shape of imps which grin at me through the meshes of the lily-stems, and they slide their elfish finger over the stony leaves of the book, as if they were writing the true story of a life that I alone can read. My first remembrance of Uncle Zeb dates from an early period of childhood. One day, while I was at my grandfather’s I heard a bustle in the front entry, and a noise like that of the dropping of trunks. Old Lizzy Bowles, an ancient hanger-on of the establishment, told me that my Uncle Zeb had “ come in from a voyage,” and that 1 must go into the east room and shake hands with him. 1 went into the room quietly, and looked out of the window first, where I saw Uncle Zeb’s ship, the Dryad, swinging at anchor, a mile down the harbor. 1 then turned and looked at Uncle Zeb, who was toas*ing himself by a roaring fire which burned in a Franklin stove. He was in that condition of roasted help lessness, which a wood fire always engen ders in one on a wet, damp day. He strove to mitigate the smart of his shins by con tinually changing one leg over the other, and he held his baked hands between his crimson face and the fire. He looked at me from behind them a moment, and then reached up to (he mantle, and took from it a present which he brought from Liverpool. It was a red and white cow and calf of oarthenware, the like of which had never been seen by any juvenile in our primeval TilUga. As he gave it to me he called me a trollop, Rud said I looked like my mother. C randmqthef, who was knitting a blue stock ing in a corner remote from the tire, said “Eho, Zeb I” This was my first interview with my rela tive, and my last present. I retired to the kitebou. and to old Lizzy, who told me about the oarg of crockery which she said Uncle Zeb was g Jug to sell iu New York, and make a fortune by. Uncle Zeb was then about thirty; he had made several voyages previous fo the one I spoke of, and was already well to do. My father was some years younger, and at the beginning of Uncle Zeb’a sea life, was a etripliug, lounging about home in a round jacket. It sometimes happens in a well reg ulated family, that one of its members is overlooked; he is never especially noticed by the rest, and his future is not thought of. My father happened to be the ignored one in his family, and to that fact I ascribe the difference between him and his rela tions. His idiosyncracy got no twist from their sympathy. But my father was in love; boy as ho was, he thought of marriage, and the way to live afterward. Tiie girl he loved was a poor tailoress; iu fact, she made his homespun jackets. She was older than her lover, audhad made his jackets with equanimity, while he wore them in a tempestuous state of mind. Grandmother was the Squire’s wife; she felt above the poor tailoress. An impartial mind would perhaps have found it difficult, to establish the lines of superiority, for grandmo'her herself sold milk from her kitchen ever day, and did not disdain to keep the milk-se we with chalk on her yel low buttery door. The tailoress was very handsome and very resolute. She would wear feathers in her bonnet; and every Sunday she went fo church dresssd iu bet ter taste ihan anybody beside, —the hand somest Presbyterian of (hem all. Most of all, grandmother disliked her because my father loved her. And Uncle Zeb had a weakness iu that direction ; but it was ob scured by selfishness, and died out in moral laziness. Uncle Zeb went his voyages, and my father, who did not know what else to do, went to sea also; not having any’help from grandfather, he was obliged, of course, to ship before the mast, and went under the r .tmmaud of Captain Southerd, a neighbor ing farmer, who planted turnips, and carted wood and hay to market, in the intervals between his voyages. Nearly all the in habitants of our little town were amphibi ous. The boys took to the water like spaniels ; their first toys were punts, and skiffs, and rafts. The men, when they were not sailors, were ship carpenters. The land owners put their savings into small vessels, which coasted from Maine to Florida, and even went on six months’ trips into the At lantic for whales. Uncle Zeb and his brother did not meet often. When one was at home the other was generally away. Uncle Zeb bought up the Dryad, piece by piece, and went in her to all the trading ports in the word, from St. Petersburg!! to Calcutta. The mer chants from whom he purchased his cargoes, or to whom they were consigned, invited him to their houses, and in this way he picked up bits of eccentricity, which he grafted upon his ordinary manners, and made a very strange compound of himself. At home he travestied foreign ways, and introduced unheard of fashions in grand father’s house. He swore beautifully in all languages; but his native damns never left him, any more than his appetite forsook him for salt junk and grog, after he had learned to like what ho tailed fcrtign kiok yh aw. Fatiir plodded along on small wages, and had a remote hope of reaching the cabin. I When ashore, he lounged in his round j jacket, and kept on loving my mother, who waited in patience for a turn in the long lane of their courtship. She snubbed Uncle Zeb whenever she had a chance, and always inquired about father, of him, by the name of Esau. Grandfather, as well as Uncle Zeb, grew comfortably rich. His invest ments in sloops and schooners were fortu nate ones, and he talked of buying a ship to fit out for a whaler. Feeling the need of a helper, for the first time in his life he turned his attention toward his youngest son, who vyis then at home, waiting for Captain Southerd to harvest his turnips. A propo sal of partnership was made to father, which he accepted; and thus his sea life ended. He was married at once, and he and mother took to housekeeping with one feather-bed, six small silver spoons, and a hearty affec tion for each other. Father applied himself to business, and the house that was thus founded became in a few years one cf the richest and most influential in our part of the ctuwry. Grandfather very soon saw that it would only be necessary for him to take his share of the profits, and that he could safely give up all business matters to his partner. in a year from the date of their marriage I was born, and at the time of Uncle Zeb’s arrival from Liverpool with my cow and calf, I was five years old. That voyage was the last one that Uncle Zeb made. Finding us prosperous, he concluded to retire from business. He invented his money outside of the family interest, but considerately took up his abode with grandfather, and indulged grandmother with the care of him. He occu pied himself with watching the domestic and business transactions ef the house of A. G. & Son, and banking his money as fast as it came in. For a few years I cannot remember much concerning Uncle Zeb; the traits I recall belong to my present knowledge of him. When I went to school, it was one of my re creations to go to grandfather’s to dinner at mid-day, and one of my miseries to sit next to Uncle Zeb at the table. His dog, “Die,” squatted on the other side of him. We had to wait till Uncle Zeb was carefully helped, by himself, to all the best bits on the table. Then he would give Die a titbit, mak.ng her snap her jaws for it, and then one to me A snarling was kept up between him and the dog through the whole meal. He would not have the potatoes on the table; they must be kept hot on the kitchen so grandmother sat fork in hand, watch ing him; when he wanted one, she fished it from the kettle, and he ate it scalding hot, with noise. Grandmother occupied a child's high chair, and .wore a black satin hood over her high crowned cap. She never dined or supped till after Uncle Zeb ; and I had tiie best of times after he and Die had retired from the table. Grandmother took excellent care of her graceless sou. He wore ruffled cambric shirts ; and many an afternoon when the sun’s rays slanted through the narrow kitchen windows, and made her resemble, in her shining specta cles, an owl, have I seen her laboriously plait his ruffles with a case-knife. On Sun days she combed his hair; it was fine and straight, and of the color of wet sand. It was unchanged to the day of his death. On Sunday afternoon he went to church in a great camlet cloak, and carried a cane with leather t.issals. He listened to the sermon with an air of respect, and broke grand mother’s heart with deriding it after he got home. Now and then he had a visker—some piratical looking captain or foreign mer chant ; the visitor was never introduced to any of the household, but was entertained in the parlor with tumblers of red wine and equivocal stories. As he never minded whether I came or went, I sometimes had the benefit of the latter. His laughter always arrested me; it contradicted him, it was so racy and hearty. His teeth glittered in his sardonic face, and lighted it up; they were long, white, and regular, and like his hair they never changed. Two visits per diem were Uncle Zeb’s allowance at our house. The first was made an hour or so after dinner, when he loitered in the kitchen, and tickled the servant the servant girls or poked them with his cane. Afterward, with his hat in his hand, he sought mother, and however long his stay, he held his cane and hat as if on a visit of ceremony. He talked well; he was sarcastic and witty, and never bored any body. The second visit was made after sup per, when father was at home. There was no confidence between the brothers, and no sympathy; but they passed cigars to each other, and enveloped themselves in clouds of smoke, and discoursed through it on com monplace subjects. As soon as I was fledged, I was sent to boarding school. My vacations were short, and 1 did not observe what went on at home; things seemed to run smoothly in the grooves of habit. I accepted appear ances for realities. The business of A. G. & Sou had greatly increased. All the year through, their ships were arriving in port, or were fitting for sea. Our household was a gay one, and grandfather’s house was full of comers and goers. He knew little of the private affairs of the concern, but smoked his pipe, and burnt holes with its falling ashes in his fine blue pantaloons, in peace aisd tranquility. Uncle Zeb had given up ruffled shirts, and had taken to Marryatt’s novels. He neither bought nor sold; he never gave advice, or asked an opinion. He had a habit of going to funerals, but he went iu a cheerful state' of miud, as if the deceased had done him a favor by dying. He was respected as a moneyed man. The world admires what it dare not be a con sistent, selfish skeptic; and our little world gave its admiration to my hard-headed Uncle Zeb. He was cautious, because he was cold —prudent, because he was indiffer ent. Asa token of the respect of his towns men, he was elected representative, and had a seat in the State House for several years. He brought home a great many volumes of revised statutes, which grandmother stored in the garret, with the dried herbs. AVhat he did as a member of the honorable body of representatives nobody knew. He only spoke of the toughness of the pie-crust, and the hardness of his bed at his boarding house. When I was eighteen I left school and came home for good. 1 was the only young woman in the family connection, and was considered worthy of much attention. Uncle Zeb, however, did not like me. He had his way of exasperating me. He always talked as if he knew that 1 must know that virtue was only a pretence. If was a game we were all playing. It was becoming in a woman to affect modesty; it was her capi tal. He gave me credit for shrewdness, and he had no doubt but that I should play my cards admirably. If I grew enraged at him, he laughed at me; but sometimes I made his cold blue eyes gleam with anger by telling him one or two unpleasant truths. His manner was usually deferential to w9* men ; but his ribaldry' would break out now and then, and I have known him to be as course as Rabelais in a room full of ladies. It was done with an air, as if he were oblig ing us with his candid wit. It was not long after my return from school that I perceived that something i weighed on father’s mind. When I accom panied him on his many drives from one business place to another, I saw the mask of cheerfulness drop from his face: he was abscnt-i tnded and silent. One day when we were alone, I begged him to tell me what troubled him, and then he owned to me that his business affairs were vexing him; that things had been going behind hand for a year; but I must say nothing of this, for he had hopes of being able to over , come his difficulties. Independent of his business perplexities, the keeping it a secret i was a trouble; he dared not retrench any expense, and he feared the effect of the truth on grandfather, who was becoming ! childish. We went on this way for two years; plan after plan of salvation failed; but father’s energy and good temper never left him. One day I thought of Uncle Zeb. “Why won’t he,” I said to myself “put i some of his thousands to the wheel?” I determined to tell him the state of affairs ; I did expect much from his generosity, but i something from his pride; and thought, too, that his shrewdness might enable him. to make something eventually out of any loan he might offer. So I sought him, and found him lying on the floor in the East Room asleep. 1 roused him, and did not wait for him to open his eyes before I began my tale. ; When I had finished, he eyed me for a mo ment, and said: “ So, you’ll have to come down. Your devil’s pride will be broken.” I stared mutely at him, but inwardly called myself a fool. “ I’ll see,” he said, “ about buying up the family acres when the crash comes; but as for piling my money on the ruins of your father’s speculations —that I won’t do. Go home; if your father knew this he would pull your ears, though he is idiot enough not j to do it.” I rose from my chair, looking, no doubt, just as I felt, for he laughed, and said, ’ “Kick me, if you like.” I went home thoroughly miserable, and did not report my interview, while Uncle i Zeb on his part was silent also; but I did much mischief that day, and Uncle Zeb did | a good stroke of business out of the capital which I had furnished him. About this time grandmother was per suaded to take an assistant—one who should unite in herself the qualiaes of companion and housekeeper. As there exists such a | race of females, one was easily' found. She j was a remote cousin (this race is apt to be | distantly related) and lived forty miles away, in grandmother’s native place. Her | name was Nancy Goring; her age thirty five. She was poor, intelligent, proud, and adroit. She had pretty, delicate hands, a large nose, and .wore her hair parted at the side of her head. Her wardrobe was neat, but scanty; and grandmother, who believed, in making people happy as far as good clothes and food went, bought material for dresses and petticoats, and the companion’s first duty was to make them up. After the drosses were made, she was allowed to knit and to sweep a little; but grandmother’s pride was still too great to allow herself to be supplanted in housekeeping. Uncle Zeb proposed the position of hair comber to Nancy, as grandmother’s eyesight was failing, as whenever she combed his hair now she fell asleep, and made an irreg ular thing of it. Nancy accepted; and from that time she began to pay .him all sort s of delicate attentions, from cutting his finger nails and tying his cravat, to mixing his grog and looking over his accounts. Uncle Zeb understood Nancy’s devotion to him; but Naucy was very uncertain as to the na ture of his feelings lor her. She was des perately bent on turning Uncle Zeb from the e’-rors of a bachelor into the merits of a hus band. She watched him and followed him, and grovelled about him; but all in vain. Uncle Zeb never gave way. One day grand mother’s eyes were opened. She found Nancy, with a red silk handkerchief of Un cle Zeb’s in her hand, which she had rolled into a tight ball, imprecating its owner hys terically. The next day Nancy returned to her na tive place. Our evil days drew near. A ship—the one father depended on as his last hope— made a broken voyage, and he was obliged to succumb. The house of A. G. & Son failed. A few days before the public an nouncement of the failure, he told it to his family. Then Uncle Zeb played his part. He behaved as if he had received an insult from father; he glowered with rage, and cursed him for h ; s duplicity and foolish ness. How dared ho disgrace the name with failure and poverty ? Had he given up all his property to his creditors ? He himself had taken what measures he could to save some little from the wreck; and then it came out that he had obtained from grandfather every cent of his private property: deeds had been signed by grandfather in Uncle Zeb’s favor, merely, as Uncle Zeb had told him, to make him safe if ever a rainy day came along. He had not made any nice distinctions between personal property and that which belonged to the firm, but had clawed into his possession all he could, and left the reputation of it to rest on father, if possible, if the creditors should discover it, and make allowance for it in the settlement. The failure came out, and our house was besieged from morning till night by credit ors. They were the more angry for its being unexpected. They not only wanted their money, but an explanation. Father had his office closed, and staid at home to receive them. The parlor was full of ledgers, and councils were held over them, during which his character and conduct were discussed as if he had not been present. Not being a creditor. Uncle Zeb was denied the pleasure of being a member of the council; but he came and went a dezen times a day, without speaking to one of us. He went about the ship-yards poking the timber with his cane, as if he would like to hurt it, and I saw him on the wharf studying the spars of vessels. He was taking much more exercise than he had been accustomed to, and it evidently did not agree with him. His ownership in certain properties was denied by the creditors; but they could not prove that the large homestead which had been grandfather’s, belongd to the firm; so it passed into Uncle Ze . .seeping. But the creditors increased the per cent age of what father was to pay on his debts, in conse quence. So we are ruined. Father made some ar rangement by which his parents were not disturbed iu their way of living; but mo ther, and the rest of us, gave up our purple and fine linen. Although Uncle Zeb lived in his own house now, the expenses of liv ing were not defrayed by him, but by A. G. & Son. But if he did not complain, we should ? He felt contempt for father; at the same time, I believe he had some admi -ation for his dignity and patience. Uncle Zeb was too clear-minded not to understand himself. He began to bate himself, and j this self-hatred made him reckless; ‘ from | this time he gave rein to his evil nature, I and his pace was awful. The next year Grandfather died, and was | buried with his fathers, who slept uuder the : mossy slate-stones of the Puritan times. Meanwhile father had prospered; he had ' paid within a twelvemonth the demands of his creditors, and had something left to be : gin the world again. Another female cousin had come to reside with Grandmother, who dozed perpetually, or bemoaned Grandfather piteously. The cousin’s name was Sally Packer, a middle aged woman, who lived on patent medicine, ■ took snuff, and believed in signs. She was 1 wonderfully ignorant, but full of that low 1 cunning whiefi serves such people instead j of knowledge. She had a faculty for mend -1 ing broadcloth, and she was always at Uncle Zeb’s clothes. Her waxed thread was whizzing through them from looming ; till night. She did not profess know ! much, she said, but she would like to see j the woman who understood tailoring better. She called Uncle Zeb a “ superior being,” ' and talked to him about property ; her re spect for money was immense. Her manner ‘ toward him was full of humility, and if he , came near her, she made a feint of retreat ing, at the same time casting her small eyes upward with an adoring expression. She meekly offered her snuff-box to him when ever she took a pinch, and after a little he fell into the habit of snuffing with her. He i employed a portion of his time in experi menting with alcohoL Cloudy tumblers j stood on the shelves with curious mixtures I them—ft (sediment of rhubarb overlaid with brandy, or gin and senna, or pounded Brandreth’s pills in Jamaica rum. Ho had a theory that if physic was taken with a dram it could have no deleterious effect Night and day he drank his compounds. He set his bed on fire; he fell on the dining table and crashed the dishes; he rolled off his horse with his feet in the stirrup; he laid in the street. But Sally Packer was his providence; she kept harm away from him. She dragged him to bed; she washed I him; she dressed him, and she fed him— and he cursed her. The consequence of his theories was, that one morning he woke up with a paralysis, and father was.obliged to taka charge of him. Tenderly and mercifully he cared for him, for he was speechless and helpless. Sally Packer hustled him about as if he were a baby. How he wanted to rail at her* His eyes glared and burned with rage when ever he saw father come into his room. One night his watcher was startled from a nap by the sight of Uncle Zeb in the middle of the floor. “My cursed tongue is loose,” he said, “and 1 can walk. Get out of the way! ” He wrapped the counterpane round his gaunt form, and tottered dow-sfairs into the street. He leaned against the fence and looked up to the sky and chafed his feeble hands, and then crept back to bed ; but from that night he Was better, and soon be came well. Grandmother soon followed Grandfather, and slept near him in the same narrow bed. Sally Packer asked leave to remain long enough after the funeral to put the house in order. It was granted, and it took her years to do it—in fact, the house was never in order afterward; and so she staid. She convinotd Uncle Zeb that no one could take care of him better than she could. She told him that the selfish world might say she expected to be remembered in his will; but it was not so. She had a good home of her own in Swampscot; a house, which, al though it was not plastered, did not leak a drop, and there was as good a well of-.water close to it as ever war. She was willing to stay just to keep him from being imposed on, although she didn’t know but that his relations were as honest as anybody’s rela tions. No one imposed upon either Uncle Zeb or Sally. The Lares and Penates of the anci ent household were broken; its former friends deserted it. It did not agree with Sally Packer’s principles to have company ; her moral constitution was averse to any thing like hospitality. Uncle Zeb v,as in different whether anybody came or went. So Sally kept her ground, and had her own way. (Jude Zeb cursed and ridiculed her every day of her life. She cajoled, and wrangled, and worried, and petted him. Now she complained of being worn out with hard work, and no a, that it was a place her betters would be glad to be in. Both were to be found, usually, in the kitchen of the old mansion, a low-ceiled, dingy room, with a great brick hearth, on which Sally had ranged for convenience a row of pots and kettles. A fire burned, Summer and Winter, on the great iron dogs. Sally’s chair was in one corner of the hearth, where she could poke the lire, or stir the contents of the pots and kettles; her snuff box, and comb, and an almanac, were on the shelf above the fire. Her hair was thick and gray, and she was fond of combing it when she had a leisure moment. She wore short drosses of black bombazine, which never required washing, and went bare legged ; her shoes were made of coarse car pet on account of her corns. Uncle Zeb generally reclined on a wooden settee under the window; an old woollen cloak, rolled up, served him for a pillow. At the foot of the settee, whenever Uncle Zeb reposed on it, lay an ugly dog, which was Sally’s pro perty, by name “ Spot.” Picked bones, the remains of Spot’s feasts, were strewed under the table, and under the settee. Spot had a habit of howling in his sleep, and , Uncle Zeb had a habit of kicking him for it. As he declined the trouble of taking off his hat when he laid down, it suffered in looks, and resembled a pair of windless bellows. He took snuff .lying down; the result to his nails, and beard, and clothes, was deplor able. After Grandmother’s death he re sumed the habit of dram-drinking, minus the drugs, in the full expectation of killing himself. He began then, to fling hi; money into wild schemes ; he would amusa himself with using up as much as he could of his property, he said, before he was summoned to move off for good. He had some trouble, for he would not give it away ; so he built and rebuilt inconvenient houses, and drain ed barren fields, and planted in the sand, and blasted rocks, and made roads that led to nowhere. Everybody now knew Uncle Zeb’s char acter, and he and Sally were the curiosity and aversion of the neighborhood. The old-house grew darker and more dismal every day. He was continually cutting doors and passages through the walls; he seemed to have an idea that they would en able him to elude some enemy that might come upon him. Sally had all the carpet taken up and put away, and all the beds stripped. She slept on a stuffed bench out side Uncle Zeb’s door. All the furniture was piled away; the looking-glasses were covered, and the shutters of every room were fastened. All she wanted for daily use was congregated in the kitchen, and there she staid as if she were waiting for some event to happen. Once in a while I lifted the latch of the ; porch door. Sometimes the inmates noticed l me, and sometimes not. Now and then Uncle Zeb would sit up on his crumpled har, and revive with me his recollections of his voyages, and tell me many a piquant and picturesque anecdote. Sally would also forget herself a moment, and listen with ad miring “ Laws, Capen Zeb.” But ofte ,er I was the silent witness of angry disp tes, i when she stunned rue with her foolishness, and he pained me with his profanity. Ilis common salutation to he.r was, “You lying jade,” whereat she whimpered or scolded, according to the mood of the moment. Father remonstrated with him once, but Uncle Zeb drove him away. He made his will soon afterward, and ordered the monu ment of which I have spoken; but his con stitution was an iron one, and it bore much before he had a second stroke of paralysis. When he did, his cause was at once hope less, and father again took the post of an only friend. S illy was at her wit’s end. She threw the medicine out of the window, and whispered about poison. She talked and cried over him, till father was obliged to turn her from the room. The night he died, father staid by his bed-side. About one o’clock Uncle Zeb turned over, the first time he had moved since the stroke. His fingers trembled tr ward father's. The first kindly look he ever gave his brother, beamed in his wild eyes then. Faint broken words struggled on his lips; but it was too late for speech— “ Your wife, Mary,” was all be said, —so he went out of this world, an unhappy mu tilated spirit. The homestead reverted to father; but it stands empty. The doers and passages which Uncle Zeb cut are open ; and the beds that Sally stripped, still stand bare. No one has been there since the day of the funeral. A recent fire at Philadelphia burned out the premises of an elderly maiden lady who had a mania for gathering all sorts o ' things which had been thrown into the 1 streets as useless, such as paper, rags, old hats, boots, hooped skirts, coal scuttles, tin pans, and old Christmas trees. The house was crammed from cellar to garret with | such articles, a space large enough for a sofa, upon which to sleep, being retained upon the first floor. A London firm, which Iwgan three years ago on a capital of £l3O, ba 1 failed for £260,330. PERSONAL. An ineffectual attempt was recently made to introduce Gen. Thomas upon the floor of Congress. The old warrior got wind of the plan and left the capital forthwith, Gen. Henry H. Sibley, (says the St. Paul Press,) has determined to remove perma nently to New York City, having already made arrangements to embark in business there. Gen. Sibley has spent his whole life in the Northwest, beginning as an Indian trader. He was the first Delegate to Con gress from Minnesota, 1849-53, the first Governor of the State, 1857-59. Since the spring of 1863 he has been in the military service, conducting expeditions against hos tile Indians. Frederick Hudson, Esq., the well-known managing editor of the New York Herald, has been compelled at last by his gradually failing health, to relinquish the position he has held for many years. He has received a leave of absence for two years, and will spend the time in traveling, as the state of his health may warrant. It may be men tioned to the credit of Mr. Bennett, that he did not part with the man who has served him so fa’thfully, without placing in his hand a check for the full amount of the sal ary which he would have received had he continued at his desk. Mr. Auber, the great composer, has de clined to accept a seat that was proffered Mm in the French Senate. Gen. Grant made a speech at Mrs. Doug las’ wedding. The speech was as follows: “I am right glad to see you ail.” Jeff. Davis is repidly growing gray, and though not actually sick, does not possess a very strong lease of life. He has fio visit ors, except occasionally a clergyman from Richmond, but converses freely with the Union officers who have .charge of his prison. The Mexican “ Empress” and suite turned out in rat).or laughable state at Vera Cruz upon her return from Yucatan. It is said the carriage would have done discredit to the livery stable of a “one-horse” town. She was received very coldly by the people. The Rev. Col. Granville Moody, well known in the military as well as the theo logical world, preached two sermons on Sunday, the 21st, at the Methodist Episco pal church in Washington, and raised SIO,OOO for the completion of the church. Among his hearers in the morning was President. Johnson, who was a friend of Col. Moody iu the darkest days of the rebel lion in Tennessee. When the contributions were being taken up, the President emptied his pocket-book into the basket, and urged them to take it. His contribution was about SIOO. At the conclusion of the i morning services, President Johnson was elected a life-member of the society, and the fee ot SI,OOO and S3OO beside, was immediately subscribed by the congregation. J. Ross Browne, the distinguished Amer can traveller, Las just been appointed cap tain of Arizona volunteers, and ordered to headquarters inSanPraucisco for topograph ical duty. He will start to Arizona soon. Ross Browne owns a delightful residence in the town of Oakland, across the bay from San Francisco, and has an interesting family. His home is surrounded by the rarest of shrubbery, and all the flowers that grow in our climate bloom in his garden, i had the pleasure of calling on him at his resi dence, and found him one of the most agree able gentlemen I ever met. Ho gossiped about his travels in various quarters of the globe, and said that he started from home on his first trip with but fifteen cents in his pocket, traveled 12,000 miles, and returned with more money than he had when he smarted. He also told Lie that he went to Germany on one occasion, taking his family with him. He arrived in London with barely money enough to carry him to his desti nation. He resided there three years, and returned again to his native land. He said the captain of the steamer had to carry him on his return to New York on credit. He supported himself all the time he was in Germany by his pen, writing for Harper's Magazine, the Sacramento Union of this State, and other journals. lie told me that ho had never made much money publishing books. The Harpers, ho said, always pre ferred publishing his magazine articles be fore printing his books. The price usually paid him by the Harpers for a magazine paper was $250. I was in company with the proprietor of a literary journal of the city at the time I made the visit, and, during all the time we remained at his house, he talked to us about his travels and literary labors. He is a man of great energy, and is imbued with the progressive spirit of the age.— Ex. Cor. Make the Most of Yourself. Some time ago I was traveling in the cars, and soon after I took my seat a lady en tered accompanied by a young lad appar ently ten or twelve years old. The cars were not then crowded, and I didn’t think it at all strange when she turned over a seat and gave it to her son, and took the opposite one facing him herself. Plenty of room is always very desirable, and to take it, not at all selfish, unless, as often happens, the world we live in gets crowded! so I looked at the lady without any wish to criticise or find fault. But pretty soon the car began to fill up. Men came in looking about anxiously for ladies, and one pale, and sick looking man had to stand up until I offered my seat. I looked at this woman and her son in perfect astonishment. She’ll surely take up her satchel, I thought, and tell her son to take a seat by her side, and make room for two on his seat, but there sat the woman as quietly as if every body were comfortably seated, and there lay her satchel by her side, there on the opposite seat sat “ sonny,” with no thought of being disturbed. I expected every minute to see the mother give up one of the seats, and, to my perfect surprise, heard her at last say— “ Stretch out and make the most of yourself, sonny, or you’ll have to divide your seat with that old woman.” I looked up and saw the conductor cast ing his eyes about to find a seat for an old lady he had brought into the cars. I should have given her my seat without any delay, but I was curious to see what the mother and son would do. That the boy would finally resign his seat, I supposed as a matter of course, but I was quickly convinced that nothing was further from his intention, for he stretched out and made the most of himself, according to direction. The conductor at last spied him, and tak ing him by the arm, as if to raise him up, said, “ Well, young man, I must disturb your nap.” Then turning to the mother, he said, “ Madam, will you please take up your satchel and give this boy a seat by you ? I want to turn over this seat and give it to this lady.” The boy resigned his seat, but evidently was very much out of humor. “I was all fixed, and you might have left me alone,” he sad in an undertone. “ I saw you were all fixed,” replied the conductor with a smile, “ but I found it ne cessary to disturb you.—You ought to have known better than to take a whole seat when the cars are full. I shall know you the next time I see you, young man.” Nothing more was said. The mother was too indignant to speak, and the boy had< said all he dared to say. I left the cars, thinking, with the con ductor, that I should know the boy the next time I saw him. It was a aid picture of selfishness, and it pained as well as disgusted me. There, was a boy beginning his life by acting out selfish ness, and seeking his own comfort, to the j great discomfort of ethers. — Presbyterian ' limner THE OEIGHSTA.L ACCIDENT INSURANCE COMPANY OF ASIEEICA. Travelers Insurance Company, ECAH.TFORD, OOMN. Net Cash Assets Doc. 1 3 1865, - - - - $585 5 838J2 INSURES AGAINST ALE KINDS OF ACCIDENTS. - Best and Cheapest Protective insurance Company Extant. JAMBS O. BATTERSON, President. RODNEY DENNIS, Secretary. MANAGERS OF THE CHICAGO BRANCH : WHITE & GOODWIN. JUJUS WHITE, op Chicago. J. GOODWIN, Jr., iais op llaewoeo, Conn ACCIDENT INSURANCE. ITS IMPORTANCE. Every man is Halit to accident, no matter what his occupation or pursuits, whether he travels much or none at nil; whether ho works amici the whirr and clat ter of moving machinery, or in a store, lawyer’s office, or editor’s sanctum. The liability is, of course, not equal in all cases—yet statistics and newspaper files give plenty of illustrations of careful, sedentary men, who are killed or seriously injured by someone of the common accidents of daily life, while other men may drive a railroad train or run a planing machine for a score of years without a scratch. THE PIONEER COMPANY. The Travelers’ Insurance Company of Hartford, Conn, was the first to successfully introduce the practice of accident insurance in this country. Its founder was James Q. Batterson, Esq., of Hartford, Conn., who has witnessed the workings of accident insurance in Eng land. A charter was obtained from the Connecticut Legislature of 1863, contemplating only the insuring of railway passengers and other travelers. In the spring of ’64, an amendment to the charter was ob tained, authorizing insurance against accidents o.° all kinds, and the company issued its first policy April 1,1864. CHARACTER AND STABILITY OE THE COMP’Y. It has a paid up cash capital of half a million, and on the Ist of December, its not surplus was $85,838.12. The capital and assets are prudently invested in good securities, that can bo turned to cash at one day’s notice, to meet any sudden and sweeping losses. With in a year and a half it has paid promptly and satisfac, torily, over $90,000 in losses, to between SEVEN AND EIGHT HUNDRED policy holders, in sums rangiug f.om five dollars to ten thousand dollars. ASSETS-JANUARY Ist, 1866. Marlcei Value. Cash „... $51,930 20 United States Securities 338,675 1 0 State Bonds 46,250 00 Railroad Bonds 17,100 00 Chicago Water Loan Bonds 19,200 00 Hartford Bank Stock 50,980 00 New York Banks 21,000 00 Loans on Personal Security 65,200 00 Accumulated Interest 7,534 7 > *010,809 94 LIABILITIES. Losses unadjusted ■■ .$15,000 All other Liabilities 12,350—527,350 ACCIDENTS INSURED AGAINST. This company insures against the following casual ties: AU forms of dislocations, broken bones, ruptured tendons, sprains, concussions, crushings, bruises, cuts stabs, gun-shot wounds, burns and scalds, bites oi mad dogs or serpents, unprovoked assault by burglars, rob" bors murderers, etc., the action of lightning or sun stroke, the effect of explosions, chemicals, floods earthquakes, suffocation by drowning or choking, when such accidental injury is the cause of death to the insured, or of total disability to follow his usual avocation. Wo may say, in general terms, the Travelers’ Insures against every possible f orm of casualty to life and limb —everything except disease. GENERAL ACCIDENT POLICIES. A general accident policy insures against accidents of all kinds, and at all times and places, whether trav eling or not, at home or abroad, whether working n shops, offices, mills, factories, at any of the trades, or on the farm; whether riding, walking, hunting, boat ug, skating, swimming, or editing a daily newspaper. jThis is the kind of policy we recommend to all our patrons. They are usually issued for terms of one year, hut may he had for one month, three months) three years, or five years. These policies furnish a complete protective insur ance, everywhere and at all times. An insurance ticket fur $3,000 and sls a week com pensation, insuring only “ against injuries caused by accident to the policy conveyance,” costs two dollars for a month; while a monthly policy covering the same amount of insurance, precisely, hut insuring against alllfinds of accidents, whether traveling or not, costs three dollars. Is it worth more than the extra cost? NO MEDICAL EXAMINATION REQUIRED. Ail ages are taken, except children. The state of health is not inquired into; but a policy will be issued at five minutes’ noHee. PARTIAL LIST OF LOSSES BY DEATH PAID Stephen Super, a railroad conductor of Peoria, 111. was killed by falling between the cars, in December 1864. He was insured in the Tsaveluces’ or Hart ford for $5,000, about four weeks previously, and the money was at once paid to bis widow. This was the first total low sustained by the company. Horace Frederick Merwin, express messenger of At chison, Kansas—his parents reside in Brooklyn, N. Y —was shot by a Cheyenne Indian, Nov. 19, while cross ing the Plains by the regular stage line, and Instantly killed. He was insured for SIO,OOO, and the money •p paid, to his mother within two days after proofs of s death were received. John F. Cunningham, manufacturer, of Sing Sing, N. Y., was one of the Jll-fated victims of the dreadful ex plosion on the steamer St. John, at New York, on Sun day morning, October 29th. Himself and all bis fam ily were scalded —the mother and one daughter are recovering, the father and one daughter died from their injuries some time after the accident. Mr. Cun ningham was insured for $6,000, illicit earn was promptly paid to his widow. Dr. C. G. M. Griffith*, a pbyi ician, of Delaware Cos. Pa., on his return homo from Baltimore one dark and stormy night in September last, with a large sum of money on his person, was waylaid, murdered aud rob bed, as he left tho train at the station nearest his heme, lie was insured for SIO,OOO, and the money has been paid to his widow. Thomas B. Bostwick, farmer, of Ravenna, 0., while at work iu a well upon his farm, August Ist, was killed by a stone falling upon his head. Insured for $2,000, which has been paid. John B. Preston, merchant, of St. Louis, was acci dentally drowned at Lockport, 111., on the night of April 17th, while on a visit to his father. Insured for $5,000, which amount has been paid. Henry C. Thompson, painter, of Morrisville, N. Y. fell from a wagon and was killed, September 14th. lu sured for $2,000, which amount was at once paid to his widow and children. J. G. Anthony, farmer, of Buffalo, West Va., killed by a fall from a building, iu October last. Insured for SI,OOO, which has been paid to the lady for whose ben efit the polic.' was written. Chas. J. Creditor, student, of Fort Wayne, Ind., had his arms blown off in firing a salute ou Inauguration Day, March 4th, and died four weeks after the acci dent. Insured for $2,000, which was promptly paid. Anson Casier, livery keeper, of Little Falls, N. Y., was murdered and his body thrown into the canal, on the night of September 18th. Insured for SI,OOO, which was paid to his young widow. Mr. Minor, merchant, of Now Britain, Conn., killed by a sunstroke in tho West Indies, last May. Insured for SI,OOO, aud the money was paid to his family. A gentleman ot New Haven, lost at sea in March, ’65, Ilia wife was paid SI,OOO by tho Travis.! ers’. Daniel H. Welis, insurance agent, of Defiance, Ohio; death caused by a violent contusion on the cords of his neck, while carrying a ladder, Oct. 2d. Insured for SI,OOO, which was paid. G. B. Hicks, painter, of Northampten, broke through tho ice and was drowned, December 14th, while cross ing Chippewav Creek, St. Lawrence county, N. Y. In sured for SI,OOO only two weeks previously (Policy No. 60,098), and tho money will be paid to his children. WEEKLY COMPENSATION. An important consideration, which commends acci dent insurance to public favor, is its system of weekly compensation. Under an ordinary life policy, the per son whose life is insured can never reap any personal benefit from the sum assured; it goes to his family or heirs after hie death. But any person Insured in the Travelers’ who is injured by a- y accident whatever so severely as to temporarily disable him from attending to his business, can receive insurance at once, aud have tho consolation of drawing his fifteen or twenty dollar* per week toward paying doctor*’ bill* and family expenses. OVER SEVEN HUNDRED COMPENSATION LOSS ES PAID. On the' books of the company are recorded over seven hundred cases of weekly compensation losses, paid within the past eighteen months, for non-futal injuries. These losses have without a single exception been paid promptly without contesting one, sr.d with perfect satisfaction to the policy holder. The receipts for each of these losses are on file. They vary In amount from $5 tososo each, and embrace men of all professions, trades and occupations; rich men and poor men; men in ail States of the Union.; and include the greatest variety of common or unusual accidents ever collected in this country. A large number of these weekly compensation losses ware paid to citizens of the Northwest; and the living witnesses to the prompt and fair manner in which these losses were adjusted and paid, may be found in many Western cities and towns. THE CHEAPEST PROTECTIVE INSURANCE. A general accident policy in the Travelers’ in believed to be the cheapest form of protective insurance extant. It covers a larger risk In proportion to the amount of premium than any other class of ine , i r auce, is within the means of nearly every man, and the hundreds who bavo experienced its benefit* can testify to its actual value. An annua’ ozenlnm of ten to twelve dollars, accord ing to occupation, will secure a policy for two thousand dollars in case of fatal accident, or ten dollars per week in case of disabling bodily Injury—the compensation to be paid to long as the person is disabled from at tending to bis usual business, not to exceed twenty one weeks for anyone accident. Any other sum, from SSOO up to 110,000, at proportion ate rates. Risks that are specially hazardous will La charged hazardous rates. THE BRANCH OFFICE AT CHICAGO. For the purpose of giving to Its policy holders in the West all the advantages of the localization of this bcnblcent institution in their midst, the company has established a branch office at Chicago, under the man agement of Messrs. White k Goodwin. All claims for losses, as well as other business of the company will henceforward, so far as the same may arise In the Northwestern States, be disposed of without reference to the Home office. The company have leased a suite of rooms in the new Garden City Insurance Building (west side of the Court House Square) for their permanent office, and will occupy them as sooa as completed. Temporarily they will b&ocated at 49 LaSalle street.