Pomeroy weekly telegraph. [volume], March 20, 1860, Image 1

About Pomeroy weekly telegraph. [volume] (Pomeroy, Meigs County, Ohio) 1860-1866

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.VOLtnVIE III. . . 1 POMEROY, MEIGS COUNTY, OHIO, TUESDAY, MARCH 20, 1860. ' NUMBER 12
I ! -l.il' 1 1 " 1 I M. i m- , ' II I I - ,
THE OBAVS OP BEIT BOfcT.
:
Iths., graT? of, , sweet Alice they hare laijlj
Ben Bolt, . , '
- 'Where often. ha longed to repose;
For there he would kneel with the early spring
, . -flowers,- ' ' v.-1 x .r.i r
' And "plant o'er his darling the rose.!,
Ilis heart was as true as the star to his gaze,
.When tossed on the billows alone;
Brft.now it is cohj and forerer at rest,
h .For he calmly lies tinder the stone.. ; . '
How often his eyes were seen .brimming with
i. t i r .tears, ' . -1 . ...
1 wTonungle with others griefj
But Joy would rekindle the light of his smile,
"., When pouring the balm of relief. :; -At
last he is gonetpjthe bright spirit land, . '
AindJ5npe,frqm All sorrow and pain,- ?
Btolisiei the full raptures of angols abole,
For he meets with sweet Alice again. .
t "We'll gather the flowers from the green shady
nook,'-' " ' ' ' '" ' 1 ""' ""
; And moss from the silent old mill,
To strew o'er the grayes where obscurely repose
" ' The hearts that death only could chill;
Ami oft whenXhe soul has grown weary and sad',
"js BsC0S11-J)y-tne twilight alone-)
u To. muse o'er the spot where together Ben Bolt
-a) Asd eweet Alice lie under the stone.1
.c3 ZT
UlTTliiiES LOY;
OR, HOW, A MISEB WAS RECLAIMED.
' ' Of all the houses which: Martin Ken
driek owned, he used the oldest and
'tteanesyfbrjlua own-habitation. ' It was
in an'; old, tamble-3own, building on a
..inarxQW; street, which had already lived
t. out more than its appointed term of ser
Tice, and was no ionger fit' to "cumber
the' ground." But the owner' still clung
to it, the toorej-perhspSj1 because as it
! stood there " In its desolation, "unsightly
6 and weather-beaten, it was no unfit em
blem of himself. ..."
Martinf the 'miser! Years" of volun
tary privation, such as in most cases fol-
lows only the train of the extremest pen-
tad given "him. claim to the appel
" lation. ' It might be somewhat inconsist
ent with his natural character that, with
the'eicejtion, of the one. room' whicb. he
,occupIedHthe remainder of the house was
' .left tenantless. After all it was not so dif
ficult to account for. He could not bear
the idea of having immediate neighbors.
Who knows, jbut that .they might seize
the opportunity afforded by his absence,
l and rob him of the gains of many years,
which; distrusting banks and other places
T. of deposit he kept in a strong' box un
der his own immediate charge. . .
Martin had no always been a. miser.
-Nd ;oae ever becomes so at once, though
doubtless the propensity to it is stronger
'in some than in others., .ears ago so
many that at this time the recollection
only came to him ; dimly, like 'the, faint
" sound of an almost forgotten tuneyears
goj when the blood of youth poured its
impetuous current through his veins, he
married a fair girl whose life he had
shortened by, t hia dissipated habits and
t the.,;. indifference,, and even erueltyj to
which they led. . :. ' r- ' !
-i ; The day of his' wife'seath the last
' remnant'of the property which lie inher
ited from his father, escaped his grasp.
These two events, eJthiSr'df which brought
its own sorrow', completely sobered him.
The abjectcondition to which he had re-
duced himself was brought vividly to his
mind, and he formed a sudden resolution,
' - rushing, as will sometimes happen, from
one extreme td the other, that as prodi
gal as his past life had been, that which
succeeded' should be sparing'and penuri
ous in the same degree, until, at least he
had recovered his losses, and so lar as
fortufiei'went,' was restored to the same
position which lie had occupied at the
commencement ot his eareer.u.' i
lit But it is not for man to say,-"Thus far
shalt thou go and no farther, "i to give
himself upi:j3ody., and, bquI, to one en
crossing ; pursuit, and at tne na 01 a
JLinited time ween himself from it.
' Habit grows bv what it 'feeds on. ' It
was not long before the passidn ofacqui-
sition acquired a controlling influence
over the mind of Martin Kendrick. He
reached .the point 'where, he had pre
scribed for himself,, but it stayed him
notj Every day his privations, self-imr
posed though they were, became more
pinching, his craving for gold more in
satiabtp. Iong,ago he had cut himself
off from friendship-rail the pleasures
and amenities of social intercourse, , He
made no visits save to his tenants, and
those only on., quartert day. Nor were
those.visits of an agreeable character, to
those favored with them, for Ma f tin was
not a merciful landlord. He invariably
demanded the Uttermost farthing that
was due: and neither sickness nor lack of
to soften his heart, or delay the execu
tiofl "of his' purpose. 'His , mind was
drawn inio' itself, and like an uncultiva
ted (field, was left to. all the barrenness
of dessolation. Such is always the case
when the man .by his own. act, shuts
himself put 'from his kind, foregoes their
.sympathy and kind offices, and virtually
eaysj "I am sufficient unto myself."
Martin had one child, a girl, named
Florence. At the time of the death of
her mother, she was but six years of age.
He had- loved ' her perhaps; as much as
it was in his power to love any one; and
.as long as she remained with him, he did
not withdraw himself so entirely from
human companionship. But at the age
of seventeen she became acquainted with
a young man a mechaftic-7-in whose fa
vor her affections were enlisted.' He
proposed for her hand, but her father, in
whom love of gold was strong, on account
of his poverty, drove him with scorn
from his door. , ; .
The young man was not to be baulked
thus. He. contrived to' meet Florence
secretly, and after a while persuaded her
. to forsake her home and unite her for
tunes with his with the less difficulty,
since that home had offered but few at
tractions to one of her age. Her father's
indignation was extreme. All advances
toward reconciliation on , the part of the
newly wedded jair, were received with
the bitterness of scorn, which effectually
prevented their repetition. , From that
time, Martin Kendrick settled down into
the coldV.apathetic and solitary existence
which MS bvcen described above. Grad
ually the love of gain blotted out from
his memory the remembrance of his chil
dren, whom he never met. They had
renioed from the cityr though, he knew
it.. no V and the total want of interest
which he displayed respecting them, dis
couraged any idea they: might ; have en
tertained informing ;hini. . i
"It's a cold night," quoth Martin to
himself as he sat before jthe Jeast glim
mering "that could be decently called a
fire in the apartment which he occupied.
He cast a wishful glance toward a-pile
of wood which lay beside the gate. He
lifted one, and poised it for a moment,
and glancing meanwhile at the fire, as if
he was debating in his mind whether he
had best place it on. He shook his
head, however as if itv w'ere too great &
piece of extravagance ;to be?, thought of
and softly laid it back. He then moved
his chair nearer to the fire, as if satisfied
that this would 1 produce' the additional
warmth with the drawback of expense.
It was indeed a cold night. The chill
blasts swept with relentless rigor through
the streets, sending travelers home with
quickened pace, and the guardians of the
public peace, as they stood at their ap
pointed station's io wfapCtheir overcoats
more closely about , them. On many a
hearth .the fire blazed .brightly; in 'com
posed defiance of :their" insidious visitor,
who shun? ..the abodes of opulence, but
forces his unwelcome entry into the hab
itations of the poor.
A child, -thinly clad, was roaming
through the streets. Every gust, as' it
swept along, chilled her through and
through, and ; at length, unabble to go
farther, she sank down at the portal of
iviartin fvendnefc s dwelling. Extreme
cold gave her courage, and , with trem
bling hand she lifted the huge knocker.
It fell frdm her nerveless grasp, and the
unwonted . sound ponetrated into the
rooni . where Martin sat cowering over
his feeble ;fire. He was startled-terri-fied
even as .that sound came to his
ears, echoing through the empty rooms
in the old house.
"Who can; it be? Robbers?" thought
he, as he walked to the door. "I will
wait to see if it be repeated."
It was repeated.
"Who'sl there?" he exclaimed, in a
somewhat tremulous voice, as he stood
with his hand upon the latch.
"it s me, said a low, shivermg voice
from without. . -J ' ' :
"And who's me?" ' .'
"Floy, little Floy,", was the answer.
"Andwhat do you want here at this
time-'of night.
.. '."I; am jfreezing.; iL)etne(bme in and
sit by the' fire; if only' for a moment. I
shall die upon your steps.!' V 'J?
1 he 'old man deliberated. "You re
sure' you re . not trying to get in after
money what little I have? There isn't
anybody with you, is there?" - ; -
"No one. lhere is only nj.. O, sir,
do let me in! I am so cold?" ' -
The bolt' was cautiously withdrawn,
and -Martin, opening' a crack, peered
forth suspiciously. But the only object
that met his gaze was a little girl, of ten
years of age, crouching on the steps in
a way to avail herself of the warmth she
had. v; ;. : . ;
"Will you let me come in?" she said,
imploringly.' . ;
"You had better go somewhere else.
I haven't, much of a fire. I don't keep
much, it burns put fuel so fast..,, "You
had better go where they keep;be,tter
fires." " :"" , : ;.' ;'.:. "'
"Oh, sir', the least fire will- relieve me
so much; and I haven't strength to go
any farther." '-' ' "
. "Well," you may come in--if you're
sure you haven t come to steal any
thing." ! ' v " ,.
v "I never steal; it's wicked."
"Umph! Well, I' hope you will re
member it. ' This is the way." ... ," , i
,.' He. led her into a little room which he
occupied.. She sprang to the , fire, little
inviting as it was, and eagerly spread
out both hands before it. . She seemed
actually to drink in the heat, scanty as
it was, so : welcome did it prove to her
chill and benumbed limbs. -'
A touch of humanity 'came to: .' the
miser, or,' perhaps his own experience of
the .cold stimulated him to the act, for, af
ter a few moments' deliberation, he took
two sticks from the pile of the fuel, and
threw- them a. upon ' the fire. They
craetea and burnt, diflusmg warmth for
a time, ' and a cheerful. glow about the
apartment. The - little girl looked up
gratefully, and thanked him 1 for what
she regarded as an act 1 of kindness to
herself.
'Fuel's high, very high, and it!, takes
a fearful quantity to keep the fire going."
"But what a pleasant fire it makes,"
said the little girl, as she looked at" the
flames curling aloft.
"Why yes, , said Martin, in a', solilo
quising tone, "it is comtortable, but it
wouldn't do to have it burn so bright.
I-wotrfd-rain m'eeompletely.'"
'Then you are poorl" asked the little
girl; looking about the room. The fur
niture was scanty, consisting only of the
most indispensible articles, and those of
the cheapest kind. They had all been
picked up at second-hand stores, for
little or nothing.
It was no wonder that little Floy
asked the question. Nevertheless, the
miser looked suspiciously at her. as if
there was some convert meaning in her
words., uut she looked so onenlv nnd
frankly at him, as quite to disarm any
suspicions he might entertain.! i
"i'oorr ; he tat length answered.
"Yes, I am, or should be, if I plunged
into extravagent living and expenses of
every Kind, and he looked half regret
fully at the sticks which " had burned
out, and were now smouldering' in the
grate.
Well, said iloy, "A am poor, too;
and so were father and mother. But' I
think I am poorer than you, for I have
no home at all, ne house to live in, and
no fire to keep me warm." .
"Then where do you live? asked the
miser.
"I don't live any! where,',' said the
child, simply. -
"But where do you stay
"Where I can. I generally walk
about the streets in the day time, and
when I feel cold I get into some store
to warm myself. . They don't let me
stay long. They, call me ragged, and
a beggar." ' I suppose," she continued,
casting a glance at her thin dress, which
I in some places was torn and dirty, from
long wearing, "I suppose it's all true,
but Ican't help it."
: "Wheredo you think of going to
night?'! asked Martin, abruptly.
"I don t know I
havn t any place to
go to, and it's very
cold. 1 Won t you
let me stay herer asked the cnnd im
ploringly. 'i :-.'':
: The miser started. : ' .
"How can t your.stay here? Here's
only one' room, and this I occupy."
"Let me lie down on the floor any
where. ; It will be better than to go out
into the cold streets." - . t
The miser paused. Even he, callous
as his heart . had become, ,: would , not
willingly thrust out a young girl . into
the street, where, in all. probability un
less i succor , came,, she would perish from
the severity of the weather.-.. ;
, After a little" consideration, he took
the fragment of a candle, .which was
burning on the table and, bidding Floy
follow him, led the way into, arooni near
by, which was quite destitute of furnf
ture, save a small cot bed in the corner.
It had been left there when Martin
Kendrick first took possession of the
house, and had remained . undisturbed
ever since. A quilt, which, though
tattered, was still .thick and warm, was
spread over it. 1 . 1 , .
"There," said Martin, pointing it out
to Floy, who followed him closely,
"there is a bed. , It hasn't been slept in
for a great many years, but I suppose it
will do as well as any other. You can
sleep there if you want to." , ; ,
"lhen 1 shall have a bed to sleep in,
said Floy, joyfully; "It is some time
since I slept on anything softer than i.
board, or perhaps a rug." t ..
Martin was about to leaye,"her alone,
when he chanced to think the room
would be dark.
"You can undress in the dark, can't
you!" he inquired. "I havn't; got but
one light. I can't afford to keep more."
"O, I shan't take my clothes off at
all," said the younggirl. . "I never do."
She got into bed, spread the quilt over
her, and -was1 asleep in less than five
minutes.
Martin Kendrick went back to his
room. He did not immediately retire to
his bed, but sat for a few minutes pon
dering on the extraordinary chance, for
in his case it was certainly extraordinary,
which had thrown a young girl, as it
were, under his protection, though but
for a limited time. He was quite be
wildered, so unexpectedly had the event
happened, and could scarcely even now
realize that it was so.
' But the warning sound of a neigh
boring church clock, as it proclaimed
midnight, interrupted the train of his
reflections, and he prepared for bed, not
neglecting, so strongly was the feeling
of suspicion implanted in hinii to secure
thiTdoor by means ofa bolt." -WTienEe
awoke, the sun was shining through the
window of his room. He had hardly
dressed himself when a faint knock was
heard at the dow of his room. Open
ing it a little ways, he saw Floy standing
before him. - 1
'fWhat,' you here now?" he inquired.
"Yest ' Where should Igo? Besides,
I did not want to unlock the front door
without your permission."
"lhat is quite right, said Martin.
"Some one who was ill-disposed might
have entered and stolen, that is: if he
could have found anything worth
taking."
"And now, sir, if you please, 1 11 make
your bed" said the child, entering the
room. "I've made the one I slept in."
Martin : looked on without a word,
while Floy, taking his silence for assent,
proceeded to roll back the clothes, shake
the bed vigorously, ' and then spread
them over again. Espying a broom at
the corner of the room, she took it and
swept up the hearth neatly. She then
glanced toward the miser, who had been
watching her motions, as if to ascertain
whether they met with his approval.
: "So you can work," said he, with a
pause. , . . . .'... ;
, "O yes, mother used to , teach ; me! I
wish," said she, after a while, brighten
ing, up, as struck with a new ; idea, "I
wish you would let me stay here; Iwould
make your bed, take care of your room,
and keeep everything nice. Beside, I
could get your dinners." .... .,
. 'Stay with me! : Impossible. , I don't
have much to do; besides,. I couldn't af
ford it." . ,: . ., ; ., ,.j
"I won't cost you, anything," said
Floy, earnestly. "I know how to sew,
and when I am not doing something for
you, I can sew for money, and give it to
you.". ; . ; ..-
This idea ;seemed to produce some im
pression upon the miser's mind. ., :
: "But how do I know," said he, a por
tion of his old suspicion, returning,
"how do I know but you will steal off
some day, and carry something with
yui : - - . .. :
1 never steal, said rloy, halt mdig
nan tly; "beside, l have on place to go
if 1 should leave here.
This was true, and Martin, consider
ing that it would be against her interest
to injure him in any such way an ar
gument which weighed more heavily
than any protestations on her part would
have done at length said: .
"Well, you may stay, at least awhile.
I suppose you are hungry. There's a
loaf of bread in the closet.' You may
eat some of it, but don't eat too much:
it's its hurtful to the health to eat too
much." "
"When will you be at home to eat
dinner?" asked the child.
"About noon. Perhaps I will bring
sewing tor you to do. ,
"O, I hope you will. It will seem so
nice, not. to be obliged to be walking
about the streets, but to be seated in a
pleasant room sewing."
.. When Martin came home at noon, in
stead of finding the room cheerless and
cold, as had been wont, the fire was
burning brightly, diffusing a pleasant
warmth about the apartment. Floy had
set the table in the center of the room.
with some difficulty, it must be confessed
for it was rickety and would not stand
even owing to one of the legs being
shorter than the rest. , This, however.
she had remedied by placing a chip un
der the deficient member; ; There was
no cloth on; for this was an article which
Martin did not number among his pos
sessions. Floy had substituted two tow-
pels, which, united, covered "perhaps half
tne raoic.
A portion of the loaf, for there was
but one she had toasted by the fire,
and this had been placed on a separate
plate from the other. On the whole,
therefore, though it was far from being
a sumptuous repast, everything looked
clean and neat, and this alone adds in
creased zest to the appetite more than
usual, and between them the two dis
patched all that had been provided.
"Is there any more bread ' in the
closet?" asked Martin.
"No," said Floy, "it is all gone."
"Then I must bring some home when
I return to supper." - !i
"I have ' been thinking," sai 1 Flo
hestatingly, "that if yod would trust u
tq do it,: and would bring home the 'ma
terials,' I would make some bread,' am!
that would be cheaper than buying it;
beside, it would be giving me something
to do." - -: '; (i " ;;!" '
"What!" asked Martin, as he looked
with an air of surprise at the di ""nn ive
form of little Floy, "do you know how
to make bread? How came a child like
you to learn?"
: "Mother used to be sick a good deal,
said Floy, "and was confined to her bed
so that she could do nothing herself.1
She used to direct me what to do, so that,
after awhile, I came to know how to cook
as well as she." '
"What should I have to bring home?"
asked the n iser, when the hint of its
being cheaper bad enlisted in favor of
the plan. ' .
"Let me see," : said Floy, as she sat
down and began to reflect. "There's
flour, and saleratus, and salt; but we've
got the salt, so you need only get the
first two. . . - '
"Very well, I will attend to it.. O, I
forgot to ask which sewing you know
how to do. ; Can you make shirts?"
"Yes, I have made a good many."
"Then I will bring you some to-night
if I can get any." '
When she had cleared away the din
ner dishes, washed them, and put them
.-a i . 1 .
in the closet an operation wmcn tne
simplicity of the meal rendered a short
one bloy began to look round her to
see what else she could do. A desire
seized her to explore the old house, of
which so many rooms had for years re
mained deserted. 1 hey were bare and
desolate, inhabited only by spiders and
crickets, who occupied them rent free.
It might have been years, perhaps, since
they echoed to the tread of a human foot.
They looked dark and gloomy enough
to have been witnesses to many a dark
deed of midnight assassination. But it
was all fancy, doubtless, and in little
Floy it produced no other feeling than
that of chilliness. She rummaged all
the closets with a feeling of curiosity,
but found nothing in any of them to re
ward her search until she came to the
lastrFhere wHsli'TaTge'
rblT
oT'some-"
thing on
the
floor, which, on examina
tion, proved to be a small carpet, quite
dirty, and somewhat moth-eaten. It had
probably been leit there inadvertently,
and remained undiscovered until the
present moment. Floy spread it out and
examined it critically. An idea struck
her, which she hastened to put into ex
ecution, .threading her way back to
the miser's room, she procured a stout
stick which stood in the corner, and, go
ing back, gave the carpet a sound drub
bing, which nearly stifled her with dust.
Nevertheless she persevered, and soon
got it into quite a respectable state of
cleanness. She then managed, by a con
siderable effort, to lug it to Martin's
room, and in an hour or so had spread
it out, and finally fastened it by means
of some tacks which she found in one
corner of the closet. The effect was cer
tainly wonderful. The carpet actually
gave the room a very cosy and comforta
ble appearance; and little Floy took con
siderable credit to herself for the meta
morphosis.' :: i
" W hat will he say?" thought she. . "I
wonder whether he will be pleased?"
It was but a few minutes after this
change had been effected that Martin
came in. It was about 3 o'clock, sooner
than Floy expected him; but lie had
thought she might require the materials
early, in order to make preparations for
the evening meal.
As he opened the door, he started back
in surprise at the changed appearance of
the room. It occurred to him for a mo
ment that he had strayed into the wrong
place; but the sight of Floy sitting at
the window reassured him, and he went
in.
"What is all this?" he inquired, in a
bewildered tone.
Floy enjoyed his surprise. She told
him in what manner she had effected the
change, and asked him if he did not like
it. He could not do otherwise than an
swer in the affirmative, and in truth an
unusual sense of comfort came over him,
and he sat down and looked about him.
. Floy had taken possession of the flour,
and was already kneading it.
"Now," said she, after this was done,
"I must put it down by the fire to rise.
That will not take long, and then it will
be ready to bake.
"Have you got any shirts for me?" she
inquired, alter awhile.
"Yes," said Martin, recollecting him
self, and unrolling a bundle which he
had piacea on the table, "lhere are
half a dozen for you to begin on, and if
you do them well, you can have some
more."
Floy looked pleased.
"Now," said she, "I shall have some
thing to do when you are away."
"You like to be doing something?"
said Martin, inquiringly.
"O, yes, I cannot bear to be idle."
; Martin did not go out again that af
ternoon. About six o clock, Floy set
the table, and placed upon it a plate of
warm cakes, which might have pleased
the palate of an epicure. It was the best
meal the miser had tasted for years, and
he could not help coniessmg it to him
self. Floy was gratified at the appetite
with which he ate.
. Thus matters went on. The presence
of the little girl stemed to restore Mar
tin to a part of his former self. He was
no longer so grasping, so miserly as be
fore. . Through little Floy's ministry,
he began to have more of a relish for the
comforts of life, and less to grudge the
expenses necessary to obtain them.
It was not many weeks before he fel
sick, in consequence of imprudent expo
sure to the rain. A fever set in, and he
was confined to his bed. At the urgent
solicitation of Floy he consented to have
a physician called, though not without
something of reluctance at the thought
of the fee. ' . .
Then it was that he began to appre
ciate more fully the importance of Floy's
services. Ever ready to minister to his
wants, no one could wish a more faithful
nurse. As she sat bv his bedside in the
ong days through which his sickness
was protracted, busily engaged with her
sewing, he would lie for hours watching
thfe motions' of her busy fingers with
pleasing interest. Occasionally, for he
had nothing else to do, his mind would
wander back to the scenes of his early
manhood, and he would sigh over the
recollection of the happiness that might
have been his. Then his thoughts would
be." borne along the dreamy years that
had intervened, uhlighted by the rays of
friendship, and uncheered by the pres
ence' of affection: The image of his
daughter, whom he had cast off, and of
whose after-late he knew nothing, came
up before him, and he could not repel it.
A. change -a bene&ial change was
coming over his mind, the fruit of those
ong, involuntary hours of sickness and
self-communing.
On the first day succeeding his recov
ery he invited Floy to go.out with him.
It,, was an unusual request, and Floy
haydly knew what to make of it. She
got her bonnet, however; for shawl she
had none, and complied. It was a chilly
March day, and the thin dress which she
had worn from the time of her coming
to Kendrick's, was but an ill . protection
against the weather, and she -shivered
involuntarily,
lou are cold, said Martin, "but you
will not need to go far."
" He led the way to a dry goods store.
"Have you any warm shawls suitable
for a little girl?" he inquired. He se-
ected one and paid lor it. "Show me
some dress patterns," he continued.
Two different ones were chosen. Mar
tin paid for them.
"Can you direct me. he inquired, "to
any good dress-maker sr
The clerk, who had at first been in
clined to laugh at the old man, whose
attire, though warmer, was no better
than . Floy s, but the promptness with
which he had paid for his purchases, and
the glimpse which had in this way been
obtained of a well filled pocket-book, in
spired him with a leehng of respect, and
he readily complied with his request.
"iNow, said Martin, cheerlully, to
loy, "we will have you a little better
dressed, so that you need not fear the
cold."
"I am sure," said Floy, gratefully,
"that I am much obliged, and I don't
now how I can repay you.
"You have already," said the old man,
with feeling. "I don't know how I
should bnve-gtrtratoTig without you when
was sick.
"Floy," said Martin, thoughtfully, as
they came out from the dress-maker's,
'although you have been with me for
some time, I have never thought to ask
your name I mean your other name be
sides Floy?" .-r
"My name is not Floy," said the child,
They only call me so. My real name
is Florence Florence Eastman." , ... ,
"1 lorence .hastman! said the old man.
starting back in uncontrolable agitation,
'Who was your mother? Tell me quick."
"Her name, said the child, somewhat
surprised, "was Florence Kendrick."
"Who was her father:.
"Maytm Kendrick."
"And where is he? . Did you ever see
him? :.
"No," said Floy, shaking her head,
He got angry with mother for marrying
as she did, and never would see any of
us."-,
"And your mother," said Marten, striv
ing to be calm. "Is she dead?"
"Yes," said Floy, sorrowfully. First
my father died, and we were left very
poor. 1 hen mother was obliged to work
very hard sewing, and finally took a fe
ver and died,' leaving me alone in the
world. For a week I wandered about
without a home, but at last you took me
in. I don't know what would have be
come of me is you had not," she said,
gratefully.
"I loy, said Martin, looking at her
steadfastly, "do you know my name?"
"No, said rloy, "1 have often won
dered what it was, but never liked to ask
J0VL' .
"lhen, said he, in an agitated tone,
you shall know now. am Martin
Kendrick, your Grandfather!"
Floy was filled with amazement, but
after a moment threw herself into his
arms., "Will you forgive mother?" she
asked.
"I will I have! But alas, she has
much more cause to forgive me! Would
that she were still alive!"
Every day Martin Kendrick became
more alive to the claims of affection.
His miserly habits gave way, and he be
came more considerate in his dealings
with his tenants. The old house in which
be lived so many years was torn down
and he bought a neat cottage just out
of the city, where he and Floy live hap
pily together. Floy who has been sent
to school exhibits uncommon talent, and
is fitting herself for the station she will
soon assume as the heiress of her grand
father. ' '
The New York Herald's Opinion about
tne Presidential Election.
The New York Herald concludes a
long article on the Opposition party and
its candidates with this sentence:
The result of this election will be to
break up either the Bepublican or the
Democratic,1 and to make the new party
the opposition during the next Presi
dency. Thus, if the Democrats should
be beaten, they will be extinguished as
a party, and will have to fall into the
ranks of the Union opposition; or should
the Republican party be overthrown,
that will be the last of them, and the
scattered fragments will be absorbed by
the Union party, which would thus in
due time present a formidable opposi
tion to the triumphant Democracy.
t"The Democracy of Louisiana have
resolved, in Statq Convention, to sustain
their brethren of Alabama and Missis
sippi in insisting on the adoption (sub
stantially) of a slave-code platform by
the .Charleston Coqvention, and in in
structing their delegates to withdraw if.
their efforts to that end are .unsuccessful.
Is tne World Ungrateful! The Friends
of Mi Iiamartine Think It Is.
We are utterly disgusted with the self
laudation which some of our second class
great men are in the habit of practicing;
and we mean to expose it, even though
the task is a distasteful one. The vice
is peculiarly, though not exclusively;
French; and is found among the second
class of great men, but never among the
first who are the real benefactors of the
world.
, Thomas Holloway, one of the latter,
whose name is idolized in all parts of the
world, and to whom it is not too niueb
to say that million's of all creeds and
complexions are indebted for the preser
vation of their lives -Thomas Holloway.
we say, is never heard appealing either
to the gratitude or generosity of those
who have derived the greatest of all
earthly blessings from hia skill; he con
tents himself with the assurance that his
work has been done, and that the price
has been paid.
We have been led into these reflect
ions by an appeal which is now put for
ward on behalf of a second class French
poet. Monsieur Alphonse Lamartine,
it seems, though munificently paid for
the productions of his pen, neglected to
lay up any sufficient store for the sup
port of his declining days; and now his
voice is raised against "the ingratitude
of the human race." The argument
which he produces to strengthen his
claim, is one which should rather make
him blush for his extravagance; he says
that millions of his productions have
been sold, and that therefore the world
is in his debt! But why? Was he not
paid the price he asked for every copy?
Or does he think that it sounds like
common prose honesty to ask to be paid
twice over. .'
, He will answer, doubtless, that his po
ems gave a pleasure the value of which
their price could not approximate. Let
us admit this rule, and apply it to an
other case to test its merits. Health, we
all know, is the chief of earthly bless
ings; a boon which must be purchased,
let the cost be what it may; a blessing,
to be blessed with which the sinking
monarch would resign his kingdom.
Suppose then, that Holloway, instead of
fixing such a price on his remedies as
would afford him (when myriads were
his customers) a fair and honorable
profit, had apportioned the price of his
pills and ointment to the exigencies of
each case and the ability ot the sutterer
to pay for his physical salvation! Why,
in such a case, the great physician would
long ago have owned all Europe in fee
simple, and three-fourths of the remain
der of the world for the royalties and
nobilities of Europe were among his ear
liests patients, but are still too proud to
acknowledge that, they owe their lives to
ttoffTsamer--irnplo iwit- aU-suflieing reme
dies which have been . brought, by Hol-
loway's philanthrophy, within ; reach of
the meanest ot their seris. "lias JoelLe s
Lettres." ,
A Quaker Mother to Gov. Letcher.
Mrs. Ann M. Raley, mother of Edwin
and Barclay Coppic, has addressed a let
ter to Gov. Letcher, of Va in reference
to her surviving son. She is an elderly
Quaker lady of respectability, residing
in Iowa.. She informs Gov. L. that her
sons left home without informing her of
their designs; , and after exposing the
brutalities exhibited toward Brown and
his cpmpanions, she tells the Governor
that he "is hunting all through the land
for a poor fatherless boy, who somebody
had said that somebody imagined had
had some connection with Brown." Al
though her poor consumptive son has
thus far been preserved, yet she declares
she would be willing to give him up
also, with the addition of her own
life, if thereby the distressed bondmen
might be liberated and their masters
purged of sin. A postscript to her let
ter says: '
"As thou seems so very anxious to
have Barclay visit you, if he chooses to
go, I shall expect him to receive that
kind hospitality at'thy house, that one
of thy sons would receive from me.
Perhaps a tew months ot the genial cli
mate of Virginia might prove beneficial
to his health. I think you would soon
become attached to him, as he is a pleas
ant boy and loves dry jokes."
The Heaven of Debtors.
WiHonnsin has abolished the system of
collecting debts by execution. The State
must hereafter be considered the heaven
of debtors. The following sections show
the tenor of the bill lately enacted:
Sec. 1. There shall hereafter no final
execution be issued, upon any judgment
rendered urion the action for the recov
ery of money due or owing, by reason of
any contract, expressed or lmpnea, ei
ther for principal or costs.
Sec. 2. Process in the nature of final
execution, mav be issued for the sole
purpose of restoring to the possession of
cesti que trust, pieagee, mortgagee, lessee,
or other person having a special lien
upon, or interest in, specific property,
personal or real, and entitled to such
possession or lien, by the terms of the
judgment of the Court.
Sec. 3. This act shall not apply, to
contracts in force at the time of its pas
sage, nor to actions found upon tort.
How to Seleet Flonr.
First, look at color; if it is white, with
a slightly yellowish or straw colored tint,
buy it. If it is very white, with a blue
ish cast, or black specks in it, refuse it.
Second, examine its adhesiveness; wet
and knead a little of it between your fin
gers; if it works 6oft and sticky, it is
poor. Flour from spring wheat is likely
to he stiekv. Third, throw a lump of
- j - ' '
dry flour against a dry, smooth, perpen
dicular surface; if it falls like powder, it
is bad. ; Fourth, squeeze some of the
flour in vour hand: if it retains the shape
given by the pressure, that too is a good
Ul J.U.4. 'oil fsotl II
Blgll. X 1UU1 LUaif mil o wnm . ivj .
safe to buy. These modes arc given by
old flour dealers, and we make no apol
ogy for printing them, as they pertain
to a matter that concerns everybody,
namely, the quality of the staff of life.
Omt Man Gone
John Ford, a Revolutionary soldier,
dir.d in Bibb countv. Goorsria. on the
28th of February, in the 105th year of
i TT J i? TT-
nis age. newas inarnea live rames. . jrim
last wife survives him, and his only child
is eigniy yearE oia.
The Extradition of Owen Brown and
Francis Merrlam Refusal of Gov. Deu
nlson to Surrender them upon the Re
quisition of the Governor of Virginia.
Gov. Dennison's letter to Gov. Letcher,
in' reply to his requisition, was as follows;
State o Ohio, Executive Department, "i
CotUMBCs, March 8, 1860.
To Sit Excellency, John Letcher,
Governor of "Virginia
Sir: I have carefully examined the
requisitions of your Excellency, and
their accompanying documents, for the
extradition of Owen Brown and Francis
Merriam, charged as being fugitives from
the justice of Virginia and as now being
within this State, and am satisfied that
no sufficient case is presented to author
ize me to issue either of the warrants
asked for. The reasons for this con
clusion are fully set forth in the copy of
the opinion of the Attoruey-GenCral of
this State, to' whom I: submitted the
papers in-the case, which I have the
honor to transmit herewith.
With sentiments of high respect,
' Your obedient servant,
W.DENNISON.
The opinion of Attorney General Wol
cott is appended, viz:
Office op the Attorset General,
Columbus, O., .7th March, 1860. .
Sir. r I have thoroughly considered
the requisition of the Governor of .Vir
ginia, made upon youT as Governor of
Ohio, for the extradition of Francis
Merriam and Owen Brown, which you
have submitted for my opinion.
These tfases are essentially alike the
charges against each of the persons sub
stantially similar the ann&xed docu
ments of the same general import, and
the requisition as to each in precisely
the same form so that the disposition
of one is in effect a disposition of the
other. To avoid the endless multiplica
tion of words, I shall consider only the
requisition for Francis Merriam.
. This requisition begins with a pream
ble, reciting that "Whereas, it appears
by the annexed documents, which are
hereby certified to be authentic that
Francis Merriam is a fugive from jus
tice from this State Virginia, charged
with conspiring with slaves to rebel and
make insurrection, and for conspiring
with certain persons to induce slaves to
rebel and make insurrection," and then
proceeds in the ordinary form to "de
mand ot the Executive authority of the
State of Ohio, the said Francis Merriam
as a fugitive from justice, to be delivered
to M. Johnson, who is hereby appointed
agent to receive him on the part of this
Commonwealth."
: These are the parts of the requisition
itself, material now to be noticed. The
Only "documents annexed" are (1) a
transcript of certain' proceedings had be
fore the Circuit Court of Jefferson coun
ty, ..Virginia from, which it appears
that an indictment had been duly pre
sented against Merriam; (2) a copy of
that indictment, in which he is charged
with the effenses mentioned in the re
quisition; (3) an attestation by Robert
J. Brown, Clerk of that Court, under
its seal, "that the foregoing is a true
transcript from" its records; and (4) the
certificate of John Kennedy, "Judge of
the Twelfth Judicial Circuit of Virginia,
holding , a special term of the Circuit
Court of Jefferson County' that Robert
J. Brown is clerk of that Court, "and
that this attestation is in due form."
Upon this state of case, question ' is
made concerning your power to issue a
warrant for the snrrender of Merriam to
the authorities of Virgina.
No enactment of this State has clothed
its Governor with authority to surrender
to another State, fugitives from its jus
tice, seeking refuge -here. Whatever
power he may have in this behalf, must
be derived from the Constitution of the
United States, and the act of Congress
"respecting fugitives from justice," ap
proved 12th Feoruary, 1793, since these
are the only enactments assuming to
confer this authority, which have force
in Ohio. These are so well known as
to need no recital here. The act of Con
gress, it is to be noticed, does not seek
to enlarge the power of extradition be
yond the limits imposed upon it by the
Constitution, and any attempt at such
enlargement would be utterly void.
Recognizing those limitations, it simply
defines the mode in which the power, as
established by the Constitution, shall be
executed. ' This power, both as to the
condition of its existence, and the man
ner of its exercises, is of the most special
and limited nature. By their very terms,
no persou can be removed from one State
to another, in virtue of these constitu
tional and statutory provisions, except
m the simultaneous occurrence ot three
distinct conditions.
1. He must have been charged in an
other State, by indictment or affidavit,
with the commission there of "treason,
felony or other crime."
2. He must have fled Irom that Estate
to escape its justice, and
3. Demand tor his surrender, accom
panied by an authentic copy of the in
dictment or affidavit on which the de
mand is predicated, must have been
made of the executive authority of the
State to which he fled, by the executive
authority of the State from which the
flight was made.
When these do concurrently happen,
the power to deliver results and must be
executed. Tkch, however, is in the na
ture of a precedent condition, so that the
absence of any one of them is not less
fatal than the absence of all.
These, and not less than these, are the
limitations with which the right of ex
tradition has been carefully hedged
about by the Constitution and the act of
Congress. In the very spirit indicated
by these jealous safeguards, the right
ought always to be exerted. For this
power which relegates the citizen to
another jurisdiction, and deprive; him
of that protection which, as a general
rule, the State owes to every sojourner
within its limits is oi so high a nature
as to exact the utmost care in its appli
cation, even to the prescribed eases.
Every one charged with its execution
should see to it that all the securities
by which it has been so anxiously sur
rounded are observed with rigorous
fidelity. .
. Examining in the light of-these rules,
the Requisition for Merriam, it will at
once be seen that no case is made tor the
exercise of this power. '
Thceis no allegation, stilMess is there
any evidence that Merriam ever fled from
the State of Virginia. , True, the pream
ble to the, Requisition recites thaj'itf
appears by the annexed documents that
Merriam is a fugitive Irom justice from
Virginia," but this recital docs not ac
cord with the fact. No flight whatever
These, as previously stated, consist only
of the copy of an indictment found
against Merriam in a Virginia Court,
with such attestation and certificate -as
was deemed requisite to establish its au
thentic nature. In all these "docu
ments," from the beginning to the end-.
there is no word, no letter from- which.
human ingenuity can draw the- vaguest
hint that .Merriam had fled from : Vir
ginia. Nay, more, there is nothing,jto
l"- J' .1 . 1." ;t. U,A.
snow mat ne yras ever wuuin me oiaiv,
save" the allegationln the indictment, that
the offense of which he is accused Was
there committed, j Certainly, this is- not
conclusively as to hc fact of his pres
ence. For this formal averment of venae
would equally have been made, Decause
essent al to every indictment, whether
the part borne by Merriam in the alleged,
conspiracy had been acted altogether
within, or altogether without, the limit
of the State. In its legal. effect this
averment is entirely consistent with- the
hypothesis that he has never been within
the boundaries of Virginia. Granting,,
however, that this declaration imports
the actual presenee ef, Merriam -aj the
place where the commission ot . the- of
fense is laid, it still remains true' th
there is absolutely nothing in the papers
accompanying the rcqusition to indicate'
that he has since fled from or. otherwise
left the State. If within it then, he may,
for ought that appears in these paperav
have continuously bided there up to the
very moment when the requisition- wa
niade, or even until now. Nor is there
anything in the requisition itself which
can supply this defect in its "annexed
documents," as that nowhere avers a '
flight by Merriam. It merely refers ta
these "documents,", as giving evidence
of such flight, and docs nothing more.
These, as has been seen, do not furnish
any evidence whatever upon : that sub
ject, so that the case stands without even
an allegation of the existence of this yg
tal condition. . " : f
But if it should be admitted that the
recital in the requisition is tantamount
to a direct assertion that Merriam waif,
in the language of that recitalr"a fugi
tive from justice from Virginia," the ad
mission would avail nothing. That as
sertion is by no means equivalent to ,9
averment that he fled from that State -to
elude its justice. It may lead to- an in
ference of actual flight, or it may mean
a. constructive one only. Whether it meai
the one or the other, it is suiheiBBt to
say that this extraordinary power is oof
to be exercised on surmise or an infer
ence. Beyond this, however, no mere
formal, unsworn allegation of flight, be
it ever so clear and unequivocal, can be
deemed sufficient. In this, as in. all
other proceedings which affect the right
of personal liberty, every fact on which)
the power of removal depends, must, be
established by due and satisfactory evi
deuce. The necessity of insisting- e
rigid proof of flight will not be doubtedj
by any one familiar with the fact that in
some of the States, a practice has grows)
up, of demanding the surrender,. ar"ftt
gitives from justice from these : States,?
of persons who have never been within;
their limits, on.the legal fiction of a con-j
structive presence and ; a constructive"
flight. It is not known that th'd prac
tice has attained in Virginia,. 9r .is im
material to inquire, as ail requisitions,,
from whatever State, must be, governed;
by a uniform law. Moreover, while.thie
custom sufficiently indicates the propria
ety of the rule, the rule , itself rests on ,
larger foundations. It grows out of the .
very nature of the power.; The, ianitts ,
nity of the citizen from arrest and. exile,
would stand on the frailest ground if,
held subject to the mere unverified dec-.,,
laration of even the highest functionary ,
in the lani. It is not too much to say -that
a power so arbitrary, can hayefo
lawful existence in a free Government,;
These considerations, it seems to me, r
are entirely decisive.f . For the reason t
that the requisition, with, its, "annexed f
documents," furnished no evidence. off
the flight of Merriam form,; yirgiHia,litr4
altogether fails, in my judgment, to niaks ;
out a case which will warrant his extra-. T
dition. Whether this defect,. ea;Jbe 3
cured, is a question which addresses ,
itself solely to the authorities of, that j
State. Finding one barrier to the exer
cise of the authority invoked by this
requisition, it has not seemed . proper to ?
inquire as to the existence ot any other.
For all present purposes, it is enough to ;
know that, as the case now, stands,: the,;
objection is fatal. Very respectfully,
Your obedient servant,
C. P. WOLCQTI.-'
To the Governor. r 1 ? i,.:2
Cattle Distemper in Mehett. ', ..
Great mortality prevails among the'i
cattle in the vicinity of Brook field,, Mass.
From the number of deaths among tho i
stock it was at first thought that
poisoners had been at work, but exami-rf
nation has revealed that the murrain, brr;
something very like it, has broken 'out.
Post mortem examinations made by Dr. u
Dodd exhibited the chest filled with v
serum of a straw color, portions fs
which were coagulated, forming a color 4
less albumen. The lungs were very"
much compressed.: One portion had a '
gritty surface, and sank when . placed. X
in water. In some of the animals no
lungs at all could be found, while in one
the lungs wereexpauaea so as. us nil me
.i ri i j - - . --. - mri it. - -
entire' chest.
Death from the Administratis af Quack
Medicine. : '"
Yesterday morning the proprietor ofVi
V... TTnmn Hnnsa. No. 673 WcstiXth
street, found one cf his. boarders Peter .
Minch, lying dead in his room. afijit
deceased had been ailing for some days, .
Dutoaturaay eveuiog, juai uwum u i v-
tired to his apartment for the night; re-rro
plied, in answer to the laridlordtht he
felt, in: excellent neann; , tne-- nexit ma
was seen or heard of him he was a corpse
Coroner Carey repaired to .the place fi
I. J HAnSMw aj3 Vi fl A an 1 lnnnont '
the jury returning a verdict of death ' u -from.
congestion, of fce-iraanV-accelera
ted by taking quack medicine, for the
cure of fever ana ague.--CVit
i