Mineral Point tribune. [volume], February 16, 1854, Image 1

About Mineral Point tribune. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1854-1858

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Jpoctnj.
From the Western Visitor.
MEMORIES.
BI 1. MAT rtSOM.
Oh. there are gentle memories that throng,
So closely round this weary, aching heart,
moments tied, yet unforgotten long,
Seems of its trembling strings to form a art.
They're woven with ea:h happy, faerie vision,
That, like a presence, hovers o'er my rest;
And nestle, as some golden beam Elysian,
Iteep in the silence of this lonely breast.
Oh, there are gentle memories that bring,
Bright images ol hopes that are no more—
That o er me now a sadd ning influence fling,
And lead me gently to the distant shore,
" here the first fading \\ reatn my childhood knew,
as fondly grasp and ere change had come or blight
And each fair bud was wet with heavnly dew,
Each blossom crown and with heavn s holy light.
Oh, there are memories that from the dead,
Awake all beauteous forms of life and love,
I hat viewless still around me seem to tread ;
lake Angels from the spirit world above.
Tney come where soft winds sigh in the lone wil
low
That gently waves above the emerald earth ;
Waiting as seraphs round that lowly pillow,—
Peopling still each spot where love had birth.
Around me now those fairy forms of brightness
In memory's g.ass still gliding soft I see.
And on the listening nr each toenails lightness
Seems as some strain of softest melody ;
1 hear again the gently w hispering voices,
lhat lent to love its happiest moment then,
And my still bleeding heart once more rejoices,
And hope revives within my breast again.
On. may tuose gentle memories ever dwell,
dd ithin this heart to soothe each sorrow tnere,
And kindly dry the bitter tears that well
I p from its broken fountain. Still may fair,
Bright forms of beauty live within this bieast,
1 ill death s cold hand shall close these weary eye*
And the freed soul, borne upward to its rest,
As angels forms shall meet them in the skies.
barictn.
—W here boasting ends there dignity begins.
—Never be afraid of catching cold from a show
er of curls.
—The Comic Almanac sava, ‘it takes three
•pringt to make one Imp year.'
The soul by an instinct stronger than reason'
ever associates beauty with truth.
—Death is not an evil; it is the idea which we
have of it, that makes the word so terrible.
—lntellect is not the moral power; conscience
is. Honor, not talents, makes the gentleman.
—lt is curious with what moral fortitude men
can bear with the misfortunes of otheis.
—He who his watch would keep, this must he
do, to pocket his watch, and watch his pocket
too.
—“I bless God,” said Dr. Watts, that I can lie
down with at night, not being anxious
whither i wake in this world or another.”
—God may have made all merf free and equal,
but I know not that he has ever promised to keep
them so. t
—-Do you see anything ridiculous in this wig V
said a brother Judge to Curran. ‘ Nothing but
the head," he replied.
—Punch says that the reason why editors are
so apt to have their manners spoiled, is because
they receive from one correspondent and another
such a vast number of evil communications.
lo enjoy life, you should be a little miserable
occasionally. Trouble, like a venne. is not very
agreeable in itself, but it gives 5 eat zest lo other
things.
—T he 00:3- rational liberty is that w hich is born
of subjection reared in the fear ol God and love of
man, and made courageous in the defence ol a
trust and the prosecution of a duty.
Douglas Jerrold says that “as old mother
Kve crea.ed the necessity of wearing that useful
garment, called a shirt, by the sons of Adam,
therefore it is but right for her daughters to wash
them.
Rome was not built in a day. Who the deuce
ever ..opposed it was ? It takes a fortnight to
build a western city, and the Romans were -slow
coaches." compared with the goaheads of this
country and hemisphere! The proverb is vert
oracular—and very stupid.—[Boston Post.
—“Tom. why did you not marry Miss G 1 ’
“Oh ! she had a sort of hesitancy in her speech,
and so I left her.”
“A hesitancy in her speech. I never heard that
before—are you not mistaken
“* s '°— at all; for when I asked her if she
would have me. she kinder hesitated to say ytt, aod
she hesitated so long, that I cut for another gal,”
MINERAL POINT TRIBUNE.
our Storg.
A ROMANCE OF SPAIN IN THE 13TR CENTURY.
1 From Olenon't Pictorial. ]
Entered according lo Acl of Congress, in the year 1853, by
K. Gleason. >n the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of
I Massachusetts.
(High! tv Publish,obtained for the Tribune.)
THE KNIGHT OF LEON:
OK
THE MONARCH’S LAST BRIDE.
A T ILE OF 7VOOKISK GRANADA.
BV SYLVAN US COBP, JR.
[continued ]
CHAPTER XXI.
TBit SEATS WilintNT, PEDRO AT WORK.
The day was drawing to a close, and
Mohammed was seated upon a large pur
ple cushion in one of his audience cham
bers. Ben Hamed was there, and at a
short distance stood" Husain Ben Abbas
There were a number more of attendants
present, and all seemed hanging with
more than wonted anxiety upon the words
which were about to fall from the
lips.
‘Husam Ben Abbas,’ said the king, ‘ap
proach me.’
The noble went nearer to the king.
“Ben Abbas, you do not bow so low as
was your wont.’
‘Ah sire.’
‘I speak the truth Ben Abbas You do
not look me so kindly in the face as you
have done.’
“It may be that matters of grave import
show themselves upon my features, sire ’
“Hark ye, Beu Abbas. Beware that
rebellion finds no home in thy bosom, or,
by Allah, you’ll repent it.’
“You know me, sire, and you know I :
have been faithful.’
‘Then why those peevish looks V
‘I am sad and heart sick.’
‘Ah, and by heaven, I, too, am heart
sick AH this day I’ve felt a gnawing at
my very vitals. I telUhee, Ben Abbas, I
feel most strangely.’
Ben Abbas turned away Lis head to
hide a look he could not suppress. The
name of I’.mina dwelt silently upon his
lips, and a look of joy passed over his fea
tures.
‘My head, too, feels wonderfully unea
sy,’ continued the king. ‘But 1 shall
overcome it.’
‘I trust you may, sire,’ replied Ben Ab
bas.
‘Ay. Allah protect thee !’ added the
alcalde.
‘But enough of this,’ uttered Moham
med showing by his manner that he was
ill at case. - Beu Abbas. I Lave made up
my mind.’
•Allah grant that you may be merciful !’
said Husam
‘Merciful !’ repeated the king, with a
laugh. ‘Let mercy he for those who need
it. I want none of it. Husain, Ajdalla
must die'
Those present started at the words
‘Have you thought of this, sire ?’ asked
Ben Abbas ’Have you thought of what
might be the consequences of such— ’
‘Silence !’ cried Mohammed. ‘I have
thought of nothing save what I should
do. and upon that I have determined
Abdalla must die ere another sun shall
rise !’
‘You certainly have the power to do as
you please,’ said Ben Abbas, in a low tone
of voice.
‘Ay, and none shall prate at my doings
after the deed is done Mark that, Hu
sain. and beware. Do you understand ?’
‘Yes, sire,’
‘Then I shall look for you to be wise.’
“I am wise now, Mohammed,’ proudly
returned Ben Abbas ; ‘and from my wis
dom would I speak to thee. Thou must
not wonder that I speak plainly, for it is
the province of a true friend so to speak.
‘Ah. sire, those are enemies who look
blindly on our faults, and fia’ter us in
our evil.’
‘Go on. Ben Abbas, for your speech has
a smacking of honesty, though I must
say that it is not always wise to be hon
est ’
‘I have but a word more to say. lad
vise you not to lay the hands of death
upon Abdalla ; and it will be for your in
terest to let the Christians go free from
Granada.’
•\ou have spoken,—and, I suppose
honestly.’ said the king with a sneer.
*1 have, in truth, sire.*
‘Then lot me tell thee that I need not
thy advice. 11l talk with thee another
time. Bon Abbas, but it waxes late now,
aud I must to business Ah ! that pain
in my heart. I Lave overtasked myself
with thought,—and yet that feeling' is a
strange one.'
The monarch pressed his hands upon
his bosom as he spoke, and as the pain
seemed to pass off he raised his head, and
reached forth for a bit of parchment that
lay near him.
•Mahmoud,’ he said, addressing an offi
cer who stood near him. ‘take this to the
prison and deliver it to Tarik. Therein
he is commanded to put to instant death
the two Christians who are confined there
Then his other prisoner is to follow. Ho
will—’
Moh ammed stopped and pressed his
Land again upon his bosom A slight
groan escaped him. and then he resumed
•Bid Tarik that he obo}- my order.—
Lot Abdalla die close upon the death of
the Christians ; and let it all be done
quickly, too.’
•Sire !’ interposed Ben Abbas
‘Silence ! exclaimed Mohammed. ‘By
Allah, if you speak another word, you, too,
shall visit the prison Men shall know
who is king of Granada if they think to
rule me with their prating ! Go Mab
mond ’
Husam Ben Abbas bowed his head, and
with a low murmur upon his lips he turn
ed away from the royal presence. There
was much pain in his look, and he treiu
bkd violently as he walked towards the
door.
‘Come back. Husam,’ cried the king
•By my faith, there is rebellion in thy re
MINERAL POINT, WIS., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1854.
j rj look, and I’ll not trust thee from the
palace until Mahmoud has performed his
mission.’
. Abbas had thought of intercept
ing the king’s messenger, he was prevent
ed now, and he folded his arms across Lis
breast as Mahmoud left the hall.
Let us, while the messenger is on his
way, look into the prison, and that we may
the better understand things that transpi
red. we will go back a few hours and take
our view by daylight.
In one of the strongest dungeons, but
one to which considerable light was admit
ted, sat Abdalla. He was firmly chained,
but yet he had a good scope for exercise,
lie now sat upon the stone which served
him for a seat, and his face was bowed to
wards the floor His hands were clasped
together, and his lips moved with a sort
lof half uttered prayer. He was calm, but
yet sorrow and suffering were traced in
every lineament of his countenance. lie
seemed as one who looked hourly for
death, and who had made up his mind to
meet the king of terrors calmly. There
might have been some rays of hope in his
countenance, but they were so dim as not
to be easily distinguished.
In the lower dungeon, where last we
saw them, sat Charles of Leon and his
esquire. The former seemed to have
been not long aroused from slumber.—
The aperture at the top of the wall ad
mitted light enough to enable the inmates
to distinguish objects plainly about them,
and Charles had discovered all that Pedro
had previously spoken of The deep
stains of blood were over the floor—the
apparatus was there for binding prisoners
for the death-stroke, and the trap-door,
too. was easily distinguished.
“My master,’ said Pedro, ‘you Lave en
joyed a good long sleep.’
“Ay, and by my soul. Pedro, I had a
wonderfully pleasant dream for such a
place of sleep as this.’
•That may be a good omen, for I some
times believe in dreams.’
‘Especially when they are pleasant ones.
I suppose.’
‘Nay, not so. my master. I wouldn’t
refuse to believe in a right pleasant dream,
but my good old mother always learned
me particularly to believe in all the bad
ones ; and. if I mistake not, she had a
wretched ending for all the good ones.’
“That would be hard. Pedro.’
‘So it would ; but while you have been
dreaming, sir Charles, I have been at work
Look at that !’
As Pedro spoke he arose from his scat
land walked Ireely across the dungeon.
•What means that, Pedro?’ uttered the
I knight, in astonishment.
‘Simply that they didn’t discover my
case of instruments. I have them all
; here, and you see how they have served
| mo.’
•But there can he no such thing as es
cape. even if we get rid of our irons,’ said
| Charles.
| ' There can be no such thing as escape
j xcith our irons,’ returned Pedro ; -so let’s
i have teen: off. and then we shall be ready
for the first chance. And let me tell yov
lone more thing : we are put here to die—
: there is no doubt about that. Now if we
| have our irons free we may use them to
i advantage. Not more than one man can
1 enter our dungeon at a time, and we can
| sell our lives dearly at all events. But
■ there may be a chance for escape. Sup*
pose we arc visited by night; we can
knock down the keeper, and perhaps make
our way out.’
•I understand you. Pedro,’ said Charles,
with a slight tinge of hope in his tone.
‘ j. hen you must take this saw and clear
my hands. I worked upon my feet very
easily, hut you see I cannot work around
my wrists. Separate these bolts, and then
1 11 have you free in a twinkling ’
The knight took the keen instrument
from the hands of his esquire, and ere
long the bolts that held the manacles up
on Pedro’s hands were cut off. and the
faithful fellow was at liberty so far as
irons were concerned.
‘Now. my good master, hold you still a
few moments, and your limbs sha'i he re
lieved from those ugly trimmings.’
As the esquire thus spoke he knelt
down and commenced operations. Ilia
tongue kept pace with his hands; and if
the humble follower had not so much of
lion bravery in his composition as had his
master, he had at least. more shrewdness
and cunning, and rather more of patience
under difficulties.
‘There,’ uttered Pedro, as his master
was clear from his shackles, ‘now we arc
ready for visitors Suppose, for the cu
riosity of the thing, we raise this trap
door.
Charles agreed to the proposal, and both
|of the men laid their hands to the task -
The ring affixed to the slab was a large
one. and there was plenty of room for both
of them to obtain a hold.
Slowly the heavy stone slab was raised
from its place The Christians bent over
the place, but they started quickly back
They had gazed only into a dark abyss
trom which came forth a cold, noisome
stench almost overpowering. It was the
malaria of decaying flesh !
•Down, down witli the door again !’ ut
tered Charles ‘By heavens, we shall die
with the p esonous vapor ’
•It s a strange place,’ murmured Pedro
as he helped his master replace the slab
1 saw such a one at Cordova ; and I saw
human beings thrown into it. too. San
Dominic, but there's a time of trial com
ing’
Charles made no answer to Pedro’s re
mark. hut gazed upon the stone ho had
lilted There was a cold shudder ran
through his frame, but when it passed a
way his hands were clutched with a nerv
ous power, and the name of God trembled
upon his lips.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE r.AME OF CHESS THE CHRISTIANS BfNOEON.
Night had closed over the Granadan
prison. Abdalla was in his dungeon pac
ing to and fro at such distances as his
chain would allow, and as the sharp clank
ing of the link? fell upon his ear. he scorn
ed studying out wild music from its notes
While he was thus engaged Tank entered
bearing beneath his arm a chess-board.
‘Do you feel like a game of chess, this
evening V asked the jailor, as he sat his
lamp down.
‘Yes, good Tarik. Anything to drink
up the dull moments that hang about mo.’
‘Then I’ll spend an hour with thee
Everything is quiet about the prison
the prisoners are all safe, and the guard is
set.’
As Tarik spoke he moved a cushion up
to where Abdalla stood, and having set
the lamp down in a convenient place he
unshackled the prisoner’s right Land, and
then seated himself. Abdalla did the
same, and having placed the chess board
upon their knees they arranged their men.
‘Tarik,’ said the prisoner, ‘something
tells me that this may be the last game
we shall ever play together.’
‘No, no—we will play often.'
‘I think not. The king will not keep
me much longer.’
‘He will not dare to —'
‘ —sh ! He will dare do what he pleas
es. But never mind that now. You shall
move first, and I will beat you.’
‘Not so easily. There.'
‘That’s your old move.’
‘Yes, and I mean it for a victory. By
Allah, if you were playing for your life
I should hardly let you beat me this lime.’
‘I tell.thee, Tarik, whatever I play for
shall be mine. Life is not mine to stake.’
They played, and they played, too, as
men who understood the game. The
minutes slipped rapidly away, and yet the
two chess-players moved their pieces with
but little effect. The prisoner forgot his
chains, and the keeper forgot his office.
‘I have thee,’ whispered Tarik.
‘Not yet,’ returned the prisoner, as he
backed up liis queen by a dexterous move.
The players were again buried in the
game, when the door of the room was open
ed, and Mahmoud entered.
‘Tarik, here is an order from the king,’
said the messenger, placing a bit of parch
ment in the keeper s hand.
‘Tarik opened the scroll and read
His face turned pale, and a fearful tremor
shook his frame.
‘I am to wait,’ said Mahmoud.
‘Then I will join thee below,’ returned
Tarik. placing the scroll within his bosom.
‘W hat ails thee V asked the prisoner, as
the messenger withdrew.
‘Only a sudden and unexpected order,’
replied Tarik, in a thick, husky tone, while
he trembled as though the death angel
were hovering over him.
‘Let’s finish the game.’
‘No, no—l cannot play more.’
‘lt / can play, why should not you?'
asked the prisoner, in a tone of strange
calmness. •! feel that I have more inter
est in the king's message than you have.’
The two men continued the game, but
Tarik played wildly.
‘Ah ! there goes your queen and the
game is mine !’ uttered Abdalla.
‘Yes—you’ve won!’ murmured Tarik.
and us he spoke ho turned away to wipe
a tear from his cheek.
The keeper arose from his seat and sat
the chess-board against the wall. lie re- !
placed the manacle upon the prisoner’s
hand, and then taking up the lamp he left
the apartment.
‘O, Allah forgive me!’ ho murmured,
as he closed the prison. ‘I would rather
die myself than do this deed. But I will
not shed all this blood m}self Him I
must kill with mine own hand, but the
poor Christians shall fall by another’s.—
Ah ! this is truly his last game. Pro
phetic vision t’
W hen the jailor reached his office he
called up two of his attendants. They ]
were sinister looking, powerful fellows, and j
those who knew them knew them for the I
Granadan executioners.
‘\ou know the place where the Chris- I
tians are confined,’ said Tarik.
es,’ returned one of the exesutioners.
‘Then take your chneters and go to
their dungeon. Here is the king’s order
for their immediate death Do your work
well, now, and be quick about it, for I
would not have them suffer pain. I have
farther use for the place when you have
done.’
‘Ad<l the bodies?’
‘lnto the pit.’
The executioners took down two heavy
clmeters that hung against the wall, and
having taken a lamp they departed on
their tearful mission.
The Christian prisoners were seated in
their respective places, and their chains
were gathered about them Utter dark
ness surrounded them, but they thought
not of sleep.
‘Hark !’ uttered Pedro. ‘I heard a
step approaching.’
‘So did I,’ returned Charles
‘What means a visit at this time V
‘W e will find out if they come.’
‘They have stopped. Ah ! there goes
the bolt of the outer door !’
‘\ es,' uttered Charles, with a quick
breath. ‘Gather your heavy ebaiu for ac
tion, Pedro. By heavens ! if they’ve
come to murder us they shall find our
lives dear.’
‘I am ready,’ whispered Pedro. ‘Be
sure and look to it thatyourfeetare clear.’
In a moment more the inner door of
the dungeon was opened, and the rays of
a lamp shone in upon the prisoners.—
Charles saw two men, and he saw, too.
that they were both armed. He guessed
the mission upon which they had come.
■What seek ye here V the knight asked,
as the man who bore the lamp sat it down
at the door.
‘You’d better not ask any questions.’
returned the foremost of the executioners
•Back, till you tell me wherefore you
are here,’ shouted Charles, springing to
his feet and raising his bands over his left
shoulder.
The man did not see how the prisoner's
irons were fixed
“Don't think of frightening ns.’ he said,
‘for wc hrve come to pat an end to your
sufferings. Come, put down your bands,
and sit upon your bench, for you’ll die
easier if rou do
w
Charles half lowered bis hands, and the
executioner took a step forward ; but he
came no nearer, for with a full, powerful
sweep the knight brought his heavy chain
upon the intruder’s head, and he sank up
on the pavement like a dead ox. At
the same moment Pedro sprang upon the
second executioner, but his blow fell upon
the Moor s shoulder, and with a loud cry
the lamed man sprang back from the cell
Ihe lamp was upset and extinguished in
the fray, and the prisoners were left in
total darkness. They heard the second
executioner as he hurried away, but they
knew that one lay senseless near them.
‘Shall we flee V cried Pedro.
‘No, uo—not yet.’
‘Nes, yes. The way is open. Come.’
‘But we shall— ’
Be killed if we stay here.’ broke in the
esquire. ‘Come—follow me.’
Charles hesitated no longer, but grasp
ing his stout irons more firmly he groped
his way out from the dungeon.
‘This way,’ said Pedro. I noticed the
way as we entered. This leads to the jail
or s room, and we must fight our way
through, and run.’
Hardly had Pedro spoken when a torch
flashed through the darkness, and a num
ber ot men at the bead of whom was Ta
nk. were seen approaching them.
‘Hold !’ cried Tarik, as he came near to
the prisoners. ‘Back to your cell.’
•Let us pass,’ firmly returned Charles
of Leon. ‘I know your purpose, and will
defend myself.’
‘One moment, sir knight.’
‘No not an instant. Clear the wav.’
Tarik was a powerful man, and used to
dangers, but he hesitated before the Chris
tian.
‘iou must surrender,’ he said.
; ‘Never while I live ! Back !’
i Hie jailor saw that words were of no
j more use. and he bade his followers—four
in number—to assist him He sprang
| forward. The knight swung his heavy
chain, but it struck the wall in its des
cent, and as it fell powerless, short of its
mark, he was seized and thrown upon the
floor. Pedro made a stout resistance, but
he was overcome by a superior force, and
ere long the two Christians were bound
and conve} ed back to the cell from whence
they had escaped.
‘Charles of Leon,’ said Tarik, as the
prisoners were forced down upon their
seats, ‘Allah knows that I am pained to
do this thing I would rather ten thou
sand times set you free ; but it is no will
' of mine.’
‘And do you really mean that wo must
die ?’ uttered Charles.
‘Yes. So the king hath ordered ’
‘And what have I done? What thing
rests upon my head that deserves this V
‘Many have asked that same question
in this very place; but I had no answer
for them. You must die !’
‘Tarik,’ said Pedro, clasping his hands
together, ‘let me die. and spare my mas
-1 ter. O ! one death is enough ’
‘You appeal to one who has no author
ity,’ returned the jailor.
•Then let us die,’ murmured Charles
‘Come, Tarik, if the deed must be done,
let there be haste about it.'
‘You will forgive me, sir knight.’
‘Y"es.’
Charles saw that resistance would no
longer avail him, but only make matters
worse for him, and with a calm look he
awaited the stroke that was to end his
life.
‘Let us both die together,’ urged Pedro
‘That I can grant; and would to Heav
en I could grant more, Charles of Leon,
bow your head, and the stroke shall be a
smooth one.’
‘God forgive me for my sins !’ ejaculated
Charles ; and then folding his hands across
iiis breast, be closed bis eyes and bowed
bis bead.
What noise is that V uttered Tarik, as
he drew his cimeter.
‘What ho, there ! Tarik ! Tarik !’
shouted someone from without
The jailor started, and let his cimeter
fall.
‘Tarik ! Tarik !’
In a moment more Husam Ben Abbas,
all covered with dust and sweat, rushed
into the dungeon.
‘ls there blood spilt yet?’ he gasped,
gazing wildly about him.
‘No,’ returned Tarik, half stupefled.
‘Not a drop V
‘No.’
‘Heaven be praised !’ fell from the lips
Ben Abbas ; and he sank senseless into
the arms of the jailor.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE VI KG IX BRIDE.
Zehra was alone in the gaudy apart
ment that had been prepared for her. She
looked like a queen in her dignity, for her
soul had become tbe home of a purpose
that lifted her above the clods of fear
Three heavy lamps were burning in their
swinging frames, and their combined power
gave the lustre of mid day to the scene
Choice and fragrant flowers were bloom
ing in crystal vases, tiny birds were sing
ing in their golden cages, and a silvery
fountain sent up its sparkling waters from
a marble basin in the centre of the room
Art and nature were strangely, wonder
fully combined to charm the senses, and
the sensualist might almost fancy that
there could be no sweeter a heaven than
tliis.
But all was lost upon her for whom the
pleasure had been intended. She noticed
not the luxury of the place, nor did she
appreciate the incentives that had arrang
ed it for her. She did once bathe her fe
verish temples in the cool water, and at
times she would listen abstractedly to the
cheerful warbling of the little birds It
was getting late, and Zebra sank down
upon the soft couch. She had almost lost
herself in a dreamy unconsciousness, when
she was aroused by the opening of tbe
door of her apartment. She started to
her feet jast as Ben Hamed entered.
‘My daughter,’ he said, ‘here comes
yonr husband. Smile, now.’
But Zebra oonld not smile She look
ed up. and she saw the king.
| *y° u can le ve us Beu Hamedsaid
Mohammed.
I The alcalde cast one imploring and half-
I threatening glance at Zebra, and then left
■ the apartment.
The maiden was alone with the man
; w ho had wrenched from her all that could
make life worth living for.
‘By Allah, sweet Zebra, but you look
exceeding beautiful ! : exclaimed the king,
as he sank down upon the couch. °
The maiden made no reply
j ‘Come and sit thee by me.'
; ‘I would rather stand in the presence
l of the king.’ returned Zebra,
j ‘But the king is now your husband ’
Zehra trembled but her features were
still calm
j 'Come, sweet Zebra.’
| ‘I am unworthy to approach my king ’
i As the maideu spoke she thought she
; saw the silken arras at the end of the
apartment move, and she also thought she
j saw a burning eye peering forth from be
hind its folds,-but she gave it no atteu
i tion.
‘Ah, fair maiden, I shall think your
| coyness takes color from jour will
i Come, dearest, and sit thee by my side
I have felt quite ill this evening, but your
radiant beauty revives me. Come.’
Zehra moved not.
‘By Allah, maiden, this smacks of stub
bornness. Now I command theo to come,
i O !’
; Mohammed suddenly pressed his hand
1 upon his bosom, and a pain-mark rested
) upon his features.
1 ‘IV hat ! Will you not obey me ? Then
I will try other means ’
i ‘Hold sire ! uttered Zehra. as the king
: started to his feet. “Touch me not !’
‘Ah ! How is this?’ exclaimed Moham-
I mod. showing by his manner that the
i maiden’s conduct was as unexpected as it
was strange.
“Approach me not, sire.’
'W hat mean you ? By the beard of
the Prophet, but you act your part curi
ously. Are vou not mine ?’
‘No !’
‘Ah ! Now I see thee as thou art.—
Bat such beauty as yours is only fit for
a king, so I needs must have thee.’
•Another step and this dagger shall find
my heart !’ pronounced Zehra. as she drew
her bright weapon and raised it above her
throbbing bosom.
Mohammed wasfur the moment awed by
the appearance of the noble girl before
him. She trembled not, nor did her fea
tures move, but she stood calmly before
her king, and her bosom was bared for the
stroke or the keen instrument of death.
‘Put up that weapon, Zehra This is
some sudden freak of madness. Your
father told me that you came freely.’
‘I came by force and even then I was
deceived. I was told that if I would make
[ sacrifice of my peace in becoming your
wife, Charles of Leon should live.’
“Ah !’ uttered the kingpwhile his frame
shook with rage. ‘And do your affections
still run there ? Then I too, have been
deceived : but it matters not with you
I take not a wife at her own whim, so come
to me at once ’
‘Beware, king ! Lay not a hand upon
me. I loathe you. and I have made my
choice between you and death. For me
the grave offers more rest to the soul than
does your embrace ’
‘But hold, Zehra,’ said the king, with a
sudden change in his tone and manner
•Suppose 1 would send thee back to thy
father. When I sent for theo 1 thought
thou wast— ’
Zehra knew not the king’s intent. As
he spoke she let the point of her dagger
fall, and on the instant Mohammed sprung
forward and caught her arm,
‘Now I 11 see how the love of a king
shall be treated.’ he exclaimed, as he gazed
exultingiy into the maiden’s face. ‘Ah.
you arc mine—mine—mine.’
[COVCLIDED !fEXT WEEK J
‘Wasted — A Young Man of industry,
ability nud integrity,’ &c., &c.
This meets our eve daily in the column
of ‘Wants,’ and it is true "as the Penta
tench. Wanted ? Of course they are—
always wanted. The market can never
be overstocked ; they will always be called
for, and never quoted dull,’ or “no sale ’-
\\ anted for thinkers—wanted for workers
—in the mart, on the main, in the field
and the forest. Tools are lying idle for
want of a \“oung man : a pen is waiting
to be nibbled : a tree to be felled : a plow
to be guided ; a village to be founded ; a
school to be instructed.
They talk about staples and great sta
pies. Honest, industrious, able young
men are the great staple in this world of
ours Young man ! you are wanted, but
not for a Doctor. No, nor a Lawyer.—
There are enough of them for this gener
at ion, and one or two to spare. Don’t
study “a profession.’ unless it be the pro
fession of brick laying or farming, or some
other of the manual professions Don't
measure tape if you can help it It's hon
orable and honest, and all that, but then
you can do better Of all things don t
rob the women It’s their prerogative to
handle silks and laces, tape and thread.—
Put on your hat then like a man, don an
apron, and go out of doors. Get a good
glow on your cheek, the jewelry of toil on
your brow, and a good set of well devel
oped muscles. e would go, if we could,
but then we were young, longer ago than
we like to think, and you know when one's
‘old. be can't.'
There’s one thing more, young man.—
\cu are wanted. A young woman wants
you. Don't forget her. No matter if
you are poor. Don’t wait to be rich. If
you do ten to one if you are fit to be mar
ried at all, to any body that’s fit to bo
married. Marry while you are young,
and struggle up together, lost in the years
together, lest in the years to come, some
body shall advertise ‘Young men wanted.’
and none to be bad.—[New York Trib- j
une.
; —:
Thirty-six breweries in St Louis man* i
ufacture 216,000 barrel* per annum. The
average price per barrel, making an ag
gregate of *1.080,000.
VOL. VII.—NO. 14.
t rom tht Mailuon Journal.
Geological Survey of the State of Wisconsin.
■ T PROF. DANIELS.
ZIC.
We have for several years past repeat
edly urged the zinc resources of the State
upon public attention, satisfied as we have
hmg been, of their immense vaiue. The
Report and an analysis of one of the ores,
proves this so conclusively that we cannot
do better than to give the chapter entire.
CHAPTER IX
These ores (popularly known as ‘Black
Jack and “Dry Bone.’) are found in quan
tity in the lead district. They are gen
erally supposed to be worthless, and,
hence are thrown away among the rub
bish of the mines, no thorough attempt
having been made to ascertain their value,
or to reduce them to use Impressed with
the importance of ascertaining their true
quality, I have caused them to be thor
oughly examined and analyzed, with a
view to determine -their workable value.
The experiments thus fir have been made
with the dry-bone, as the black jack is bet
ter known, and from its peculiar composi
tion, is a less valuable ore—being practi
cally valueless from the great expense at
tending its reduction.
The examinations were coffcueted by
Dr. Augustus Hayes of Boston, whose dis
tinguished reputation as a Chemist, and
large experience in the assay of mineral
ores, will inspire the fullest confidence in
the correctness of his results.
His report upon the zinc ores submit
ted to him. is given below, and shows that
this dry-bone contains from 79 to 90 per
cent, of the oxide of zirc. four fifths of
which is pure metal This large per ceut
age of metal is so favorably combined as
to bo readily separated by known proces
ses from the ore
i The examinations were conducted at
my request, wit!i esji.>'cial reference to tho
capacity of the ore to yield the white ox
ide of zinc, which, from its great value as
| a pigment, is becoming an article of the
i highest importance in the market. The
results are of the most favorable cfaarac
i ter proving the existence of a net? source
!of mineral wealth in this district, second
i only to its wonderful lead veins. The
white oxide of zinc, or Zinc W Lite, is now
rapidly superceding \V Lite Lead as a paint,
i owing to its superior quality, absence cf
poisonous effect, and greater cheapness of
production. To supply the great and
. constantly increasing demand for it, we
! have in tho I'nited States only (woman
, ulactories—one in New Jersey and tho
jother in Pennsylvania, The New Jersey
works have been ia operation about three
i years, and have prepared their paint from
| the red oxide of zinc, which, until recent
ly, was supposed to b > (he only ore capa
; Lie ot yielding Zinc White (without ‘irt
i reducing it to the metal. A recent dis
covery, liowever, lias been made, which
j proves this supposition to l ave been an
error. An ingenious metallurgist, Samu
el W itherell, Ksq .has discovered a nroccsu
of manufacturing this article from the drv
bone or carbonate of zinc. The PencsCl
| vania works have been erected fur the
| purpose cf applying this discovery upon
an extended scale to a deposited’dry Lone,
discovered and owned by Samuel Smith,
of New York, to whose enterprise and
that of Mr etherell the public arc in
debted for this important addition to the
available resources of the country
The works have just been completed,
and commenced operations. An extract
from the American Mining Journal will
show the success of the invention in prac
tice.
‘“The assertion that the oxide of xino
could not be made from the Culamino
(dry-bone) unless by first reducing the
zinc to a metallic state, and then sublimat
ing it, lias been proven within the present
week untrue. This fact, is not merely the
result of analytical experiments, but is
daily accomplished, making four tons of
oxide of zinc, or twenty-four tons per .veck.
W e learn from an officer of the Company,
that they will at once proceed to enlarge
their works, and increase their product
to ten tons per day, or 3000 tons per an
num. This at 8130 per ton, would amount
to 8390.000. which, ground in oil, would
sell for 8180 per ton, or 8550.000 per an
num These estimates may be relied up
on as demonstrated by the actual working
of the manufactory. The white oxide
produced by this process will compare fa
vorably with the French White, besides
being superior to it in a body ”
Dr. Hayes has shown that our ores are
fully equal, if not superior to those of
Pennsylvania They are found in suffi
cient abundance to supply extensive works
with raw material. They could be obtain
ed very cheaply, both on account of their
present association with lead veins, and
the quantities already thrown out upon
the surface in mining for lead. They are
within 150 miles of Milwaukee and Chi
cago, to which ports they will be connect
ed in one year by railway communication.
To these places they could be conveyed
at a cost of 81,50 or 82,00 per ton ; or, if
preferred, coal could be transported in
land at corresponding prices. Every tou
of ore will yield from 1 400 to 1000 pound*
of pure white oxide This could be sold
at the door of the factory for 830 per too.
The cost of the ore and manufacture would
not exceed 800 per ton. leaving a clear
profit of 8“0 upon every ton of the oxide
manufactured. A factory producing ten
tons of oxide per day. wouid thus yield to
its owners a net annual profit of 8210.*
000.
This is no fiction These results are
realizable, and will be realized when cap
ital, enterprize and skill are organized
and brought to bear upon this new branch
of cur natural resources The manufac
ture of metallic zinc and brass might also
be profitably conducted with this ore. For
this purpose it is the best one known, and
is used in Europe in preference to any
other. All our zinc and most of our brass
is now imported, while our mines of zino
and copper are second to none in the
world. We seed only patience, skill, and
cnrfideaoe to conquer the slight difficulties