The Democratic advocate. [volume], November 30, 1865, Image 1

About The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972

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TOLOIE I.— ynißEll 1,
THE DEMOCRATIC ADVOCATE
William H. Davis, Editor and Proprietor.
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A MOTHER’S WIKLYG.
All night the dews in silence wept, <
And through the pane the moon’s pale
beams ■ ■ .. ■ h- ■:'dio
Played on the floor in silver streams,
While by my side my baby slept.
So soft, so sweet, the midnight stole,
It stilled the breezes on die lea,
And hashed the murmurs of the sea,
And hushed the strife within my soul;
And silenced all the questions wild
That come between our faith and God,
And bade me lie beneath the rod
Calmly as lay the sleeping child.
Then slumber on my eyelids pressed,
And dimmed the moonbeams silver clear,
And hushed the sound I loved to hear, —
The breathing of the babe at rest.
Till o’er the sea in rosy light,
flush of morning slowly crept,
And whispering breezes softly swept
The silent shadows of the night.
Then wrapt in dreamland far away,
I saw the angels come and go,
And flutter of their white wings show
Like ocean bird at dusk of day.
They came and looked within my~eyes,
With their sweet eyes so pure and true,
And sang low songs all strange and new,
The music of the eternal skies.
But waking, lof a cherub smiled,
Heaven in her soft eyes' azure deep,
And radiant from her rosy sleep,
An angel half, and half a child.
And little hands were touching me,
And tiny rills of laughter broke
From lips that kissed me as I woke,
And called my name in baby glee.
And all the vision Heavenward swept,
Lost in the gold and crimson sky,
Their farewell whispers floating by—
One angel in my arms I kept.
A BIT OF A MYSTERY.
Really, it waa a singular occurrence.
Tell you about it? I am very willing.
Pray shut that window; the air is raw
to-night. Take a cigar—you prefer a
pipe? Very good; then take a pipe.
Now, are you ready? Yes? Then here
goes:
“It was five years ago this very night.
I was sitting in this very room, on this
very sofa, and at this very—let me look
—no, but within fifteen minutes of this
very hour. I was alone, however, and
ill besides—that is I had been driving
a young horse the day before, and he
had become frightened at a locomotive
whistle, and had run away with me and
pitched me out, and lamed my right
arm and bruised me severely about the
head, both of which ached me confound
edly, as I lay here % myself that even
ing. My mother and sister had gone to
spend the evening with some friends,
about half a mile up the road, who were
to go away on the morrow. The house
maid had profited by their absence to
make a sociable call on her friends, who
were not going away, that I knew of, and
had taken the waiter to protect her. Tho
cook, finding solitude suggestive of mel
ancholy thought, doubtless, had pro
posed a romantic ramble among the
neighboring lanes and byways, to the
coachman, which he had gallantly ac
cepted, and the big dog had joined them,
uninvited, to prevent the scandal of a
tete-a-tete between two snch young per
sons, By playing propriety as a third
party. So that I was literally alone, not |
only in this room, but alone also
in the house—not only in the house, hut
on the premises, which premises, as you
know, are a twenty-acre plot of lawn
and woodland, with a cottage and out
buildings about in the middle of it.
“It waa a much warmer night than
this, and the window#, were both open.
That one, which answers for both door
and window, behind me there, had no
gaiue frame in it then. We only put I
lho.etl.ißg. up a year ©r two ago. We
did not have the gas then, either; the
pipes were not laid within a mile or
more of us. I was reading, or trying to
read, when my headache held up a little
now and then, by a French lamp I had
brought with me from Paris. I was
reading, or trying to read, a small vol
ume, called ’Truths Contained in Popu
-1 lar Superstitions’—that was the sub
stance of the tit le, at any rate.
“It was not a checiTii! book. Nor
was lin a cheerful mood. However,
there was a weired sort of interest in it,
and I read on fitfully. Thus I had
perused a somewhat labored attempt to
explain the mysteries of the divining
rod, and the rationale of ‘corpse-lights,’
and was pondering on it, iu an interval
of sharper paiu than usual, when I sud
denly heard a sound, as of some one
breathing audibly behind me. .My ner
vous system being shat
tered and excited by my recent accident,
to say nothing of my occupation at the
time, was exceedingly sensitive to ex
ternal impressions, or I should not
have heard this, almost imperceptible
sound. But I did, and quickly turned
my head in its direction. There, in the
emshranre of the window, stood a figure,
motionless, silent, looking inward. As
its eyes met mine—you will excuse my
using the neuter gender m referring to
this figure—it conveys my impression
of it at the time, and even—but, no
matter, allow me to call the figure ‘it.’
As its eyes, then, met mine, a cold
shudder ran swiftly from the nape of
my neck down my spine, along my arms
and legs, and flitted, as it were, away
from my finger ends and the tips of my
toes. Something like what is com
monly called a ‘creep,’only stronger and
chillier. For the moment I could not
speak; but I made an effort to rise. The
figure made a deprecatory motion with
its right arm, and I sank, in spite of
myself, as it seemed, back on the sola
again. It advanced into the room. I
saw, then, that it was tall, thin, and
with a face of ghastly pallor. It was
wrapped from neck to heel in a long,
dark garment, that hung loosely round
it. like a Mexican poncho. Its eyes,
which it kept steadily fixed on mine,
and which, it seemed to me, absolutely
gave forth a heat that burned iuto my
own like the reflection from a highly
polished surface, or, rather, like the
glow of a very vivid wood fire—its eyes
were uncommonly large, and darkly
liquid as the depths of some rock-shad
ed spring in a desert of white sand.
“‘Give me your hand!’ it said, iu a
singularly low, sweet voice, coming
near me, aud stretching forth its own
right hand.
“I involuntarily recoiled, and, at
length, finding a voice, though hut a
faint one, ‘Who—what iu the fiend’s
name are you? What do you want of
me?’ I hastily and angrily exclaimed.
“‘Hush!’ it answered softly; ‘hush!
or the charm will be broken! Give me
your hand and come with me. It is
time!’
“Ouce more it stretched forth its
right arm, and at this momemt a
strange, sweet, pungent odor seemed to
exhale from it, and the lamp grew
slowly dim aud dimmer, till I could
only see one small point of fire, which
appeared strangely far off. I made a
powerful effort and rose to my feet.
“‘How dare yoa come into my house,
at this time of night!’ cried I hoarsely.
‘You must be either a fool or a ’
“The figure placed its hand on my
shoulder. I tried to go on speaking,
but could not utter a sound. I tried to
lift my sound arm to the bell-rope. It
seemed paralyzed. I tried to shake off
its grasp. In vain. The sweet, pun
gent odor still floated around us; the
small points of fire grew more and more
distant—went out; and I felt it take my
hand and lead me forth into the night,
without having the power, or even, as it
seemed to me, the will to make the
least resistance.”
ii.
• Hand me the claret,” said Wharton;
“narrative is very dry work. And
I wish you d draw down the other win
dow. I feel unaccountably chilly.
Thank you. Now for it again.
“We—it aud I—went out, hand in
hand, across the drive, over the lawn,
into the wood, through the cattle lane,
down to the great Spanish oak at the
bridge—the dry bridge, as we called it,
because the brook no longer ran under
it, having been turned into another
channel for domestic convenience.
“ ‘Here it is!’ said the figure.
“During this walk Ihad insensibly, as
it seemed, become reconciled to this
strange proceeding, and felt a dreamy
calm prevading me, and an entire faith
in, and submission to, its guidance,
which! thought very singulsjr, I re
member, at the same time, that it ap
peared to me quite pleasant and proper.
“Neither did I feel the least pain any
longer in my head or my arms. Nor ?
-
WESTMINSTERS^!).,
I stranger than all, did the idea of my
> absence from the house give me the
- slightest uneasiness in connection with
- my mother'a.apd sister'a return, or with
- anything else. In short, I felt ex
tremely comfortable, both physically
• and psychologically.
, ‘“Here it is!’ said the figure, stop
, ping under the Spanish oak.
I “ ‘Here what is?’ I asked, very natu
i rally.
u ‘The body and the money!’
5” An! whose body, and what money?’
1 “‘Your great Uncle’s money, and the
. body of the robber that stole it!’
■ “Then I remembered how, nearly ten
years before, my groat uncle, living on
this place, had been robbed one night of
a large sum of money in coin, by two
bnrgdurs, and how he had shot one out
of the window as they fled, and had
hurriedly flung on his clothes and rush
ed out with the cook, who was the only
domestic that proved herself a man in
this emergency, to make sure of the ras
cal, and how he had found nothing but
spots of blood on his fingers, after feel
ing in the grass for the money-bag the
villain might have dropt, but didn’t;
and how he never found anything fur
ther of cash or ‘cracksman.’
“I remembered this at the moment, I
say; but the improbability, not to say
impossibility, of the figure’s assertion,
did not appear to strike me in the least.
I merely looked at the dark shadow of
the tree trunk vacantly, and asked.
‘How did you find it out?’
“ ‘By the flame and by the rod!’ it
answered, and held forth- a slight twig
in its loft hand, its right still clasping
mine.
“ ‘Ah! I see! the divining-rod.” said
I. ’But the flame—l see no flame.’
“‘Close your eyes aud you will see,’
said the figure.
“It occurred to me, vaguely, that
this was a strange way to see anything,
but I calmly shut my eyes.
“Immediately a singular phenomenon
took place. I distinctly saw, through
my closed lids, a bright, white flame
shooting up out of the sod at the foot
of the oak. in the form of a thin, spiral
column.
“ ‘Do you see?’ asked the figure.
“ T see!’ murmured I.
“ ’Then,’ it continued, ‘take the spade
and dig.’
“I opened my eyes and saw a spade
held towards me by the figure. With
out a word, I seized it and began to dig;'
Aye, to dig rapidly, with both arms!—
and without the slightest pain.
“One foot, two feet, three feet! then a
skull! then bones—arm-bones, thigh
bones, ribs!—then mould again!. Four
feet—then a cliuk! a dull rattle! and
spadeful after spadeful of coin!—bright,
golden coin!
“‘Now, in with the cartli again!’
cried the figure, stooping and flinging
back the grim skeleton, bone by bone,
into the hole.
“I worked desperately, the water
streaming from my face and down my
bosom. The hole was filled! I sank
exhausted to the ground!
‘“Quick! quick!’ elclaimed the figure,
gathering up the treasure. ‘Take your
right, and let us be gone!’
“It filled my bosom with coin, and
once more, seizing my hand, led me
swiftly back to the house, and into this
chamber. To my surprise the lamp
was now burning brightly as before and
the sweet, pungent odor but faintly per
ceptible.
“ ‘Lose no time,’ whispered the figure,
•hasten to your plate closet; lock up
your coin there, in the safe, you know
—do you hear?—in the safe?’ audit let
go my hand.
“I did as it bid me. I hurried to the
closet, opened the safe with the key,
that I took from that hook yon see
there, where it was then kept, till I car
ried it to my chamber at bed-time, and
locked the coin within.
“This done, I hastened back here, but
the figure was nowhere to be seen. Af
ter a moment’s confused and dreary
wonder as to what had become of it, I
lay down on the sofa again, feeling ter
ribly prostrated, and fell into a troubled
slumber.
“My mother and sister returned
shortly afterwards, and woke me.
“‘How very imprudent, Wharton,'
said my good mother, ‘to go to sleep
here in the dark, with the windows
wide open!’ and she rang the bell.
“!t was true! the lamp was out again,
and there was no light, save from the
mqon in her second; quarter, I roused
myself, and sat up. My head felt com
paratively easy, hut the pain in my am
recommenced with increD&d violerioe;
“ ‘What’s this strange smell, Whar
ton?’asked my sister. ‘lt don’t smell
like tobacco”
rl r • J ' ' - I =Ss=?==——ss—^^
iu Preserving Our In lon, let r tie Carefnl to Preserie .Iso M. Civil liberties.
AH eft- 1 - iS m>Phil —-'-Ji .I.a -•* /fuir t. rrrrffsTrtr • wr **-. ? a
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 80, 1865.
“ ‘lt brought it with it!’ muttered I.
absently.
“ He’s asleep yet, I declare!’ exclaim
ed she. tnirtn fc-Hftr e# •aaHnt&o*
‘•Just then, the housemaid appca‘fc4
followed by the waiter.
u 'Have you been out- this evening",’
asked my mother. • - •
“ 'lf pkase; tcut, and
toe, we just stepped over to Mr. Brad
shaw’s for a minute. We wasn’t hard
ly any time gone—was we. Thomas?’
‘•‘Certainly not?’ said Thomas.
“ ‘Has cook gone to bed?’
‘••Oh! La, yes, mem—she’s been
abed this hour, mem.
“This wa a whopper-no! a domes
tic li-ccn.se, I mean. So was the durar
tion of maid and Thomas’ absence.
'"Vcry well.' said my toother; ‘lock
up, Thomas, and both of vou go to
bed.’ *
“T\ hen they had gone, I resolved to
toll my mother and Mary the strange
occurrence I have just told you. It
was difficult to flo so calmly and clearly,
but I did my best.
“ ‘What a horrible story!’ cried Mary,
edging close to her mother, and slyly
taking her hand.
‘“lt was a dream my love,’ said my
mother— : a nightmare, brought on by
pain and bervous excitement—and sleep
ing with open windows.’
‘“Oh, no!’cried I; mo dream! For
there is the coin, the money, locked up
in the safe, mother!’
‘ •Pooh! pooh!’ said my mother,
..that s a dream.also, my sou!’
“ Let us go and see if it be a dream!’
said I, still confident of its reality, some
how. We rose to go. At that moment
a series of screams burst forth in an
other part of the house—came nearer,
somewhat lessoned in violence, and the
house-maid, still followed by Thomas,
rushed into* the room.
“‘Oh. Lord! Oh! dear, mem!’ cried
she, hysterically, ‘it was very wrong for
us to stay out so long! But, oh! mem,
we’ll never doitagain— will we,Thomas?
(Thomas shook his head in a sacred
and choking manner.) Indeed, indeed,
we won’t! And cook promised to stay
and mind the house, and she’s a wretch,
and she didn’t stay—and oh! mcm
“*l\ hat does all this mean? Speak.
Thomas.’ interrupted my mother, be
wildered and alarmed at the girl’s in
coherence,
“ ‘lt means, mem, that—that the—
the house is robbed!’ stammered Thomas,
bringing out the fact with a great gulp’
Then, more collectedly, he continued:
■The plate-closet’s been opened, and the
safe’s been opened, and every blessed
fork and knife, and spoon, and salt
cellar. and fruit-knife, and salver, and
the month s wages, and the market
money, and —’
‘•But, without staying to hear Thomas
finish the inventory, we all sped to the
closet. It was the fact! The boose
had been robbed! Not only from the
closet, but from every other part of the
house, every portable article of plate,
jewelry, and other light goods of value
had been carried off!
‘“Oh! your dream! your dream! my
poor brother!’ exclaimed Mary.
“‘And the strange smell! Ah! I knew
what it was!' cried my mother suddenly.
“ ‘What was it?’ we both asked.
“ ‘lt was chloroform!’
“A uew light seemed to break upon
me. The figure was a burglar! The
strange, sweet odor it diffused was that
anaesthetic agent my mother had men
tioned! It had taken advantage of my
slumber, and etherised me.
“But another moment’s reflection
flung me into the fog again. If I had
been asleep, how could I have seen it?
If I had been awake, how could it have
administered the ethet? If I had
dreamt the whole story, how could the
mystery of the vision and the reality b<
explained, since there was evidently an
actual connection between the two?
And what on earth had put my great
uncle and his stolen money into my
head? Pass the claret again—I am as
dry. as a fish.”
a I *1 * ;i: " “ in.
“Well, Wharton, it was rather queer.
But, then, dreams are such queer
things! Who pretends to explain
them! Your robber—are you sure,
by-the-bye, it was not friend Thomas,
or one of his mates?—probably came in
mid found you dosing; stuck his stuff
under your nose; you partiafty awoke
mistily, standing met you; arid that,
.1 r l 4' -’ t Y ’ . ; - Hf H * Jiij.'T'i
the book you had Been reading and the
ether, are accountable for the re**,”
<‘ln the first place,” replied Ffti-
I Wharton, “the guilt, direct, or indi
' >r - ‘
rect, of any of the servants, was out of
the question, inasmuch as we found—
but let me proceed in order. The next
morning I went down to the Spanish
oak, with the coachman and a mattock.
After a minute examination of the spot,
we were unable to discover on the sur
face any evidence of the soil’s having
been recently disturbed ■■ “ T . 3
0f course not!” quoth the listener,
in parenthesis.'
’ so,” continued Wharton, lu we
dug doWn until wc found- -- ”
“What? what?” cried the otMr with
impatience, as Fitz paused maliciously.
“Nothing!” said he. with a grave
smile; “nothing but earth! However,
a reward was offered for the apprehen
sion of the burglars, and, after a tune;
one teas ranghf! Some of the stolen
property Was found in his possession'
and identified! I was present at his
examination. And, sir, he was a taU ,
hin, cadaverous man, with a very large,
dark, liquid eye, and a voice of pecidiar
softness!”
Fitz-Wharton here concluded, and,
drinking off the last, remains of his
claret, lit a cigar, and remained silent.
“This, certainly, adds somewhat to
the strangeness of your story, Fitz,”
said his listener; “and I eonfess I am
unable to aeebunt for it. How do you
account for it?”
“Oh!” said Wharton, “I don’t pre
tend to account, forrit at all! I merely
give it as it and leave you to
draw your own conclusions.”
':7I IV. . ,• A
“Well,” said- Fitz-Whartou, after
a rather longintefval of silence, “lot’s
go to bed. It’s twelve o’clock.”
They went up stairs.
As he his guest good-night at
Iris chamber door, .
“By-the-i>ye r ” said Wharton, “there’s
one little incident I omitted to men
tion. If it helps you to unravel the
mystery, taut mieux. . There was found
hidden among the robber’s effects a sum
of money, tied up in an old, time-stain
ed leathern bag, upon which, with con
siderable difficulty—for it had been
purposely defaced —we deciphered the
following inscription: ‘L. F. W.,51,000’
*
“Well,” said Iris guest, interroga
ivclJ.v (I li, iks .-ddtoqor.l. avowl
“Well,” replied Fitz, “my great un
cle’s name was Law?e ace Fitz-Wharton.
Good night!”
The Garden Spot of America.—
I heard the love of home oddly illustra
ted in Oregon, one night in a country
bar-room- Some well-dressed men, in
a state of strong drink, were boasting
of their respective places of nativity.
“I,” said one, “was born in Missis
sippi, where the sun Over shines, and
the magnolias bloom all the happy year
roniid.”
“And I;” said another, “was born in
Kentucky—Kentucky, the home Of im
passioned oratory; the .llome of Clay;
the State of splendid women, of enllant
men!” w; la haleool Oil .<■>
“And I,” said another, “was bom in
Virginia, the home of Washington; the
birthplace of statesmen; the IState of
chivalric deeds and noble hospitality!”
“And I,” said a yel|ow-haired and
sallow-faced man, who was not of this
party at all, and who had been quietly
smoking a short black pipe by the fire
during their magnificent conversation,
—“And i was bom in the garden spot
of America.”
“Where is that?” that saU
“ Skeouhegam, > Maine!” he replied;
“kin. I sell you a razor-strop?”-*-Arte
my Ward. .{•>' -n\ v-.-d H
-ryjr+u* 1 .. , > ;—;
*65“'A scientific genius, who visited
the fair of the American Institute, a
few weeks ago, has turned inventor, and
intends taking out patents for the fol
lowing k w *
useful inventions.
1. Fite that will me out. every night,
and return punctually by nine the next
morning.
2. A kettle that will boil with rage
whenever I am insulted, f
3. A paying-out Augchine for the es
pecial benefit of dunning creditors. i t
4. A clock that is always running
itself down* . rf., ~,h u nlo tmtn
5. A gold-hunter that will “ware
wheat.” , t
6. A hair-trigger which will do its
own hair. . vl iiH n joi s}a
7. A hat that will take itself off,
goodness only knows where.
> L* ! > - f -' —-t-—.—-rip cs ..t.’-t?-!, ,
A correspondent of the New York
Journal of Commerce writes from J#ck
sonville, Florida, October 30th:
. “There is a large negro garrison here
and yesterday there was a' * tremendous
riot, during which several of the orders
. and men were killed yrottodeff, the
, officers shootingplio men, and men
the officers. Ooe<Qf,thaocgro spidio
W undergoing aepr&upuniiOwpnt,
when fie was rescued hy hip comrades,
and in the attempt to enforce inder by
the officers the riot orginatec}.
■■■ ■ ■■■■■■——
WADE HIMPToi
General Wade Hampton, of South
Carolina, bein£ about to leave that State
for an uncertain period, has issued an
address to his fellow-citizens thanking
them for tbp .vote t^ey
for Governor. .He wgp _U^|
candidate, withdrawn in favor of
Mr. Orr, who consented to run at the
mm r ms&oVm
a°H at a great personal, inpouv.enfpiqei
other reasons fowefpaiijg
to be a candidate. Among the
following; , , , . - . .
-ettpKsoi ybiwtfol juMawt *c autaw
X was unwilling to dcS- anythimr that
rtllght cause a political coolest m the State.
I thought that no good colild arirffi at lioixie
from gnch 'do^l
infinite miSphiefabroad. The President of
the United States had exhibited not only.a
strong disposition to protect the South from
theradiealism of the North, but to reinstate
us in our civil and political rights. I feared
that my election—by embarrassing him in
his labors and policy—might incidentally do
harm to the State.”
Gen Hampton then proceeds to give
his ideas of what he conceives to be the
duty of the people of the State under
present circumstances. The following
is what he says on the subject:
ror years past it has been the boast of our
State that there was but one party within.her
limits. Commendable and vital as that
state of affairs was daring the war, it is
scarcely, if at all, leas so now. Every asso
ciation of the past, every duty of the pres
ent, every hope of the future, bid os still to
stand “shoulder to shoulder.” The work
before us demands all the patriotism, all the
courage, all the endurance of dur whole peo
ple. Let no party strife,, no minor issues,
no petty politics, divert- us feoni the great
and pressing work of That of re
animating, as far as possible, our prostrate
and bleeding State, and reliabitating her as
speedily as may be with the forms, the rights
and the sanctity of gOVemrnent and of law.
I The bark which was launched a few rears
ago, amid such joyous acclamations, which
was freighted with such precious hopes, aud
wHjiei was wafted on by such earnest pray-
has" suffered shipwreck. It behooves
usy as wise sjen, to btifld of its broken tim
bers, as bes{ may, a raft, .whenever we
if?ay hope "to reach a haven of rest and safety.
'lt may be that when the forms of govern
ment fee restored and freedom of speech al.
lowed to us, your late convention will be
subjected to harsh criticism and Jts action
impugned. Should such, unhappily, be the
ease, remember that you, thepeople of South
Carolina, accepted this convention as part
and parcel of the terms of your surrender.—
The President had no shadow of authority,
I admit—under the constitution of the Uni
ted States—to order a convention in this or
auy other State; but, as a conqueror, he bad
the right to offer, if not to dictate terms.—
The terms offered by him you have accepted,
.. and you are bound by every dictate of honor
and manliness to abide by them honestly,
And to keep in good faith the pledges yon
have given; Jdo not myself concur fully in
all the measures adopted by the convention;
but I. shall cheerfully acquiesce in-the action
it took to carry out faithfully the terajf:
agreed on, and I willingly accord to it high
praise for the manner in which it discharged
■ its arduous and unwelcome labors. N<j.
similar body ever represented'more largely
than it did the dignity, he learning, the vir
tue and the patriotism of die State, and I
am sure that it was actuated by pure and
■ high motives. Entertaining these views, I
think that it Is our duty to sustain the action
of the convention in recognizing the aboli-
L tion pf slavery, to support the President of
th§ L rated States, so long as he manifests a
disposition to restore all our rights as a sov
ereign State, and to give to our newly elec
ted Governor a cordial co-operation in his
■ nd responsible duties. Above all,
let us stand by our State—her record is hon
’ orable, her escutcheon untarnished. Here
is our country—the land of our nativity, the
home of onr affection. Here all oar. hopes
should centre; here, amid charred and
. blackened ruins, are the spots we once fond
ly called onr homesand here we buried the
ashes Of oar kindred. AH these sacred ties
r bi i v&Uxmi State, Mid they are intensified
by her saffering and her desolation.
• ■ Gen. Hampton concludes by saying*
that be is induced to issue hia address
1 solely by an bouest and sincere hope of
contributing his mite to the welfare and
% ..honor of* his State. , .* T r "
thv
,{ A Wife m tell
' me - my dear, what is the cause of those
‘•'Oh, such a disgnicef”
. • I have opened one of • your let
tera,.-supposing ittobe addressed: to y^
■ * looUl liU
“fc nr Wbt harm can there
r '‘‘A
letters? P;.u .Icn Hiw -. •.
m the fWiig ihl^ltet.{he
unfit to beTead bjrmy wife?**'
“Oh, nb! it ig couched in Wmost
, chaate and beautiful language. But
I the contents!—-the contents!” VM
h wp the letter, and 3 rdfag
>- “• ?P“ Ue ** had m*rly broke* hie
, wrfes heart. It was a bill from the
r printer for three years’ subscription for
HP® newspaper! M ‘
mui-anwSy# fifi'S.
7T T-iviaatoUgj aa
y W WWmmk 5W
Mwmini I i
I*4 ow
the/Currency? 9f
fers the f(diowii^*ng^eMiws f
to the redemption of mutted circula
ting notesJbf NationalJßanks: W Ihw
The notes ase toie redeemed
ky.She tanks hj which itheynni iliijpf
I
sdiolKhlonr' fee
bua4r®idolWoj or ev(m* ih;(mikipliies
e**vh(j baa oHdwj
W Mstiinted
been topp or defeed a#h i lS reodved
when presented by theib4&tlwt fe gue d
We ;
are not eo fatqohfitertrted’ ihob it
aaahamA a*
Third. Fragtofenw should be redeem
ed by.banka, in full,'When tecdinpfeiied-
by an-affidavit stating 4he deface : find
mannar of imutilatroh/lnd that The
singparttof thetweilfdestroy
ed. The good character of the 'affiatit
should also be fully .vouched-for % the
officer before whom the affidavit is
taken.)/- : -i at .r n siSoH i*
Those nra#t be forwurdfed to
this office with the fragments to which
they relate, in order I that banks present
ing /’such parts tof* ii(&e* bbtaih
Exceptional cases may occur in which
no affidavit can >lld%!iere
no reasonable ddi^ :
to the entire distructiori or irreparable
damage to ndsifhig phrtioiii <^4fbt^s—as
by fire, ad'idsf Whetc eviifcnce of
identity is ample by the sigWaturq of
one or both officers, or title or focal if y of
the bank, and the cbmomination of the
note—where the integrity, 0f the bill
holder is unexceptional’, and' where no
question could arisb in regard to a
fraudulent of improper use
parts; in such instances judicious dis
crimination is made. It is, however, ad
vised that such notes be received a,t
theii* full face value, and a perfect note
given thWefbr, record being
of the fact, to be sent to this office with
the mutilated note when returned for
redemption by the bank, in, which case
full Credit’ will be allowed in this d.K
•*f£ ’j ** - fffyo Irlw P tTI
’ptirftadnt. . ■ T~d ' ' ■. •
Fourth. When no satisfaction can be
obtained in regard to missing parts, and
a possibility exists that any improper,
use eau he made of the same,’ it fe ,re:
only be this by
comparison of the portion returned to
the missing park m ,Mixv
A record should be kept .of the
amount allowed in all..?nch instates,
and a voucher of same rendered to this
office, when the mutilated ..note,#*, notes
shall be returned for
—— ■■ v. fl!n i
The Profits OF ; ,4..tD*!JTi*www
An extensixe hotel fttH
54,750 per month fe imi*
sing, Michigan, hy4fa officer promiodnt
in the Government detective service,
who was not worth a dollar before the
commencement of the v*x,-r~Exciiahge.
A highly reapeotoUe member of the
New York bar told m seme time since
thata certaimColonel, of a cer
tain Major General in the service of the
United States, who had been down
South about six months, was foutd to be
worth, upon his demise, seven mil
lion dollars. It .was, not khown that
he was worth anyOußg; whenshe Went
prospecting down South. It is osy won
der that certain cljqu®s arid pawns
should exhibit suek at
thc
they would evidently submit to pro- .
longafioa offt wp ®ueh ,4b*tkudafsa#is
ChjfefaDrc^i^i^?^,^^^,^
: 'a .WtPOt
,c| Pweott of Apfues,—
thousand barrefif of §
receavedda
Railroad duriny thr it tftk
Within week a ofce Vease&rorfPWlJlll^M
has brought 1.600 baPiels andUnotMr
500. Besides li^f
been arrivafe feom ether!
retail price nf dh vd
bee*n3.sa.to6 per blriiol,“4hiiftlfey .1
baredbr HTbyite
<m efrwU ve v*** fgg
the flourishing M
, New York
f * oner,