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The Potter journal. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, August 08, 1865, Image 1

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M. W. Mc\laruey, Proprietor.
%* Devoted to the cause of Republicanism,
the interests of Agriculture, the advancement
• f Education, and the best good of Potter
county. Owning no guide except that of
Principle, it will endeaver to aid in the work
of more fully Freedomiziug our Country.
Advertisements inserted at tljc following
rates, except where special bargain* are made.
1 Square [lO lines] 1 insertion, - - - $1 f'O
j H L u 3 " -- - 200
Each subsequent insertion less than 13,
1 Square three months, ----- -- 4
1 " six " ------- 700
1 " nine " ------- 1u C 0
1 " one year, 12 00
1 Column six months. 30 00
1 (4 4* ** ....... 17 00
14 44 R ••-•---10 00
o per vear. --------
ii a (< - SO 00
Administrator's or Executor s Notice, J 0
Business Cards, 8 lines or less, per year 5 v>)
Special and Editorial Notice:, per .me,
transient advertisements must be
paid-in advance, and no notice will be taken
of advertisements from a distance, unless they
are accompanied by the money or satisfactory
*,* Blanks, and Job Work of all kinds, at
tended to promptly and faithfully.
Fret aad Accepted Ancient York Masons.
EL. LA. LI A LODGE. NO. 342, F. A M.
STATED Meetings on the 2nd and -KhWVL.es
d&ys of each month. Also Masonic gather
iaj.oa every Wednesday Eveitiag.for work
4-1 oractice. at their Hall in Couderspor'.
M. W. MCALAB.VEV, Sec y.
Coudersport, Pa.. will attend the several
Courts in Pouer and ITKet# Counties. All
>asiaes entrusted in '.is care will .£■ fiie
prompt attention. Office corner of West
and Third
Coudersport, Pa., will attend to aii busine?>
TT*ruftr(l to hilt care, with prcmptnes and
filthily. Office ou Sotii-we-t co.'utr ot Main
snd Fourth strecis.
ATTORNEY AT LAW. Co udersport. Pa., will
attend to all business entrusted to him, with
care and promptness. Office on Second st.,
near the Allegheny Bridge.
F. \V. KNOX,
ATTORNEY AT LAW. Co iderspo-t. Pa., will
regularly attend the Courts in Po.ter ai. .
the adjoining Counties.
- o. T~ ELLISON.
respectfully informs the citixens of the Til
lage and vicinity that he v i. ' ..y :t
--spond to all calls for professional services.
Office on Main St.. in bu .uing iorme:ij o
cupied by C. W. Eh is. Es-i-
C. S. k E. A. JONES,
Oils. Fancy Articles, Stationery. Dry Good:,
Groceries, Ac.. Main st , Coudersport. Pa.
Clothing, Crockery. Groceries. Ac., .Main st.,
Coudersport, Pa.
DEALER in Dry Goods, Groceries, Provisions.
Hardware, Queens ware, Cutlery, and ail
Goods usually found in a country Inore. —
Coudersport Nov. 27, 1861.
0 F. GLASSMIRE, Proprietor. Corner o-
Main and >econd Streets, Coudersport. Pot
ter Co., Pa.
A Livery Stable is also kept in conneci
tion with this Hotel.
"WARE, Main St.. nearly opposite the Court
House, Coudersport. Pa. Tin and Sheet
fron Ware made to order, in good style, on
short notice.
A GENTS for the Collection of Clan s
J\_ against the United States and State Gov
ernments, such as Pension. Bounty, Arreai -
of-Pj &c. Address Box 95, Harrisburg, Pa.
Pension Bounty and War Claim
PENSIONS procured for soldiers of the
present war who are disabled by reason of
wounds received or disease contractracted
while in the service of the United States : aca
pensions, bounty, and arrears of ; ay obtained
for widows or heirs of those who have died
or been kiPed while in service. Ail lette of
inquiry promtly answered, and on receipt by
mail of a statement of the case of claimant I
will forward the necessary papers for their
•ign&ture. Fees in Pension cases as fixed by
G. OLMSTED, J. S M.A.NS. E-q.. F. W. Ksox
Claim Agent Couderport Pa.
Jane 8, *64. -ly.
DISEASES of the Nervous. Seminpl, Urina
ry and sexual st stems —new and reliable
treatment — in reports of the HOWARD AS
SOCIATION—sent by mail in sealed letter
envelopes, free of charge. Address, Dr. J
SKILLIN HOUGHTON, Howard Association
No 7 South Ninth Street, Philadelphia, Pa.
- !3jylBSL
[Suggested by the engraving "Rosalie."]
Little white violets down in the woods, —
White, with the merest purple stain, —
Bud and blossom, but do not fade
'Till he shall stand by my side again !
I think there was never in all the world
So fair a covert as this of mine.—
That never through duskier clouds of trees
Did the lights of sunset shine.
Brave trees, strong with with the Winter
Fair trees, rattling with dewy leaves !
Music and Silen'Ce, Land in hand,
Keep tryst beneath them,these golden eves.
Since the wonderful Naiads died.
Softly the brook goes singing alone.— 1
And a half-regret for its minstrels lost,
I think, 'tis breathing to every stone !
Beautiful shadow?, fast asleep,
Hidden here in the Summer woods,
Will ye blossom at twilight into darks.
As roses break from their burning buds ?
Sweet with the breath of the clover fields,
The merriest breezes come and go,
Swinging the boughs of the Summer trees
In the lights and shadows to and fro
But dearest of all dear thing in the wood,
Are these white Sowers touched with a
purple stain :
Sweet little violets down in the grass,
Why are ye ditshed,with joy,or with pain?
He gathered a handful of the;?, that day,
Trailing, tho' sudden bis eye? grew dim,
He fastened them in my braided hair, —
To, bud and blossom and wait for him !
July, 1865. EVA.
"Uncle Joseph, will you see to the lug
"Certainly, madam," I replied. I al
ways called my brother's second wife
"madam ;" we never quarreled, but eacb
thought the other was the most dLagreo
abie person in the universe; and as we
each knew what the other thought, it
may be imagined our intercourse was not
of a very cordial kind.
I did see the lugg3ge and then took
tickets f r the party for the York express
by the Great Noitbero Railway.
Fortunately, we bad a compartment to
->urselve=, that is, Mrs. Webster, my niece
Clara and myself.
"Clara, my dear, you look as ill as you
can look ; no one would think that to
morrow was your wedding day."
"Do I look ill, mamma?" said Clara,
"Yes, my dear, sr.d wretched too. I
wonder you've not more sense at your age
—a girl of twenty five and breaking her
heart for love of a man who for four years
has not taken the slightest notieeof you."
"Why, it was one of the conditions.
Mrs. Wt.-b.-ter, that he should not write,'
I exclaimed.
Clara said nothing, but looked Lei
thanks at her old uncle.
"However, Uncle Joseph, he ought to
have come lack and taken his dismissal
quietly. I have no patience with these
poor men blighting a girl's chance of get
ting well settled in life in this way ; how
ever, thank goodness, it's all over now,
the f jur years are gone this three months
and to morrow you will be the happy wife
of a man whose age will command your re
spect, and whose position will secure you
every comfort."
"And one maroms, vrlictn nothing on
earth but my solemn promise to my poor
dear father would make me call husband."
"Well, my dear, it's fortunate for your
future interests that you made that "prom
ise. j'm sure that Mr. Tredgar is a man
after my own heart. If I hadn't other
views for tny children's sake, I should
have set my cap at him myself.
"Urn sure, madam, Mr. Tredgar would
fee! only too much honored if he knew
your sentiments ; the candid avowal of
them is, I think, highly calculated ta add
to Clara's happiness under the existing:
"Well, you know, Uncle Joseph, I am
candid to a fault."
"Decidedly, madam, most decidedly,"
I replied, a remark which caused Mrs
Webster to read a yellow covered novel
for some time in silence, though shortly
afterwards she dropped asleep.
Clara stole to my side of the carriage,
aDd leaned her head upon my shoulder.
"Oh, Uncle, I wish I were dead; can
it be so very wroDg to die ? I am so
wretched 1 dread to-morrow. Oh ! why
will not God pity me, and take awayjmv
life ?"
"My dear Clara, don't, there's a good
child; it's wicked to talk in this way;
life must be born ; I have felt as you feel
and yet I live, and am Dot positively un
bappy ; <. nly a vague, shadowy regret for
what tuight have been stands like a cloud
between me and anyjbappiness that might
be mine. Yoars are keen sufferings,but
bear them patiently, and use will dull the
But, uncle, why did be not let me hear
from him, as mamma says ? '
"Because he was a man of honor; the
four years were up only last April, and
ibis is but July ; who can tell where be
is? Wherever he is, be is faithful and
true, I know."
"Oh ! uncle, God bless you for those
words; I know iv too, but what can I do".
jjebcicd io of iJcmcdfscd, ib; of fcjoirgiiitj,
f cannot delay longer; my poor father's
dying words, my eolemn promise to mar
ry this man, my stepmother's persecution,
what can Ido ? Three months have 1
fought, and now I wish I could lie dowD
and die. Oh, uncle, is there no escape 7
[ have such a dread that he will come
back after I am married, and then —Oh
it would bo worse than death to see him !
The temptation I—Oh ! why cannot I
die ?"
"Poor child ! my poor child was all
I could utter.
Bound by a vow made at her father's
deathbed, she was going the next day to
marrv a man who was old enough to be
her father, aod who, Lnt for the fact of
his persisting in his claim, spite of her
openly expressed dislike to him, was es
teemed a very good kind of a man.
True, Ciara was beautiful and aecom
plished beyoDd the average of women of
her class, and it would be 3 struggle to
anv man to give up sach a prize, backed
as he was by the assurance of the step
mother that it was only a girlish fancy,
and that love coming after marriage was
more to be trusted and more lasting thaD
if it came before; I confess I was but a
poor counseller under such circumstances
still I loved her very truly; she was al
most as my own daughter, for I was a
childless widower, and I would have giv
en my life to save her. But it was im
possible, and to morrow would seal her
It was not a pleasant journey, that.—
Mrs. Webster read and siept at intervals
the whole time, and when she slept Ciara
nestled close to me.
We arrived at York about six o'clock,
and just as the train was slackening speed
into the station, a guard jumped on to the
footboard,locked or unlocked the door.and
remained there until the train stopped.
"Have you all ycur parcels, madam ?"
"Ail. thank you, Uncle Joseph, except
my umbrel'a —oh 1 that's under the seat/
isaid Mrs. Webster.
"Now, guard, unlock this door.
"Are you with that youDg lady, sir?"
pointing to my niece.
"Yes, certainly, unlock the door."
"Better not make a fuss, sir."
"Fuss ! what do you mean ?"
The, man who esemed to be looking
out for somebody dow, asked, "All right,
•'All right," said the station master,
coming to the door,and opening it: "This
way, miss."
"What does this mean ?"
"Step into my office, I dare say it's all
right. Better not say too much out here
you know.
We followed him through the little
crow I of passengers and porters, accom
panied by a policeman in uniform. As
we passed we heard fragmentary obser
vations of a most pleasing kind.
"Which is it ?" ea'd some one.
"It's the girl I think."
"No, it's the old worur.n.=he looks as if
she'd do any one a mischief if it suited
"Old man look 3 too soft for anything.'
and so forth.
We went into the office, and I indig
nantly turned to the station master:
! "What is the meaning of this, sir ?"
"0!i 1 it's very simple, sir :—a tele
gram has arrived from the police in Lou
ion with orders to stop this young lady;
here it is."
j I took it ana read :
"The young lady looking very ill,dress
ed in black silk mantle, white straw bon
net with flowers, is to be detained at the
station tiil the arrival of the officer by
the afternoon mail. She is seated in the
middle compartment of the third first
class carriage from the end of the train.
Her present Dame is Clara Webster. To
avoid the possibility of mistake, she has a
diamond ring on the third finger of the
left hand, with words 'From Herbert' en
graved on the inside."
It certainly was a correct description,
and the name —there might be two Clara
Websters, though.
"Let me see your left hand, dear."
She pulled off her glove, and there was
the ring.
"Let mc see that ring with the diamond
on it."
"Uncle, what does this mean ? Is any
thing wrong at home?"
"I'll tell you presantiy, dear; give me
the riDg."
She took it off and gave it me, and I
read 'From Herbert" on the inside.
"Why. that's the ring Mr. LaDgley
gave yuu-"
"What has he to do with this ?" eaid
Mrs. Webster. "Perhaps be "
"He what, madam ?"
"Perhaps it did not belong to him, I
was going to say."
I saw it was no use to straggle ; when
the officer came down he would explain
the mistake.
"Where can we wait?" I said.
"Wait, Uncle Joseph, what for ?"
"Madam, this telegram orders the ar
rest of your daughter, and her detention
here till the arrival of an officer from
"But what for T'
"I cannot tell yon ; it is useless to com
plain now; we must wait."
"I shall do nothing of the kind ; I shall
at once go and get my brother and Mr.
Tredgar to come down."
"Pray don't madam : there's no occa
sion to make more Doise about this mat-
I ter than can be helped."
"1 shall remain with Clara; you had
' better go on and say we are coming very
1 shortly."
"Your instructions don't include this
iady or myself?" I asked.
"Not at all, sir; you are both free to
go at anytime, but the young iady must
• stay."
| "Where V 1
"Well, sir, I'm sure there's some mis
take, and was so from the moment I saw
the young lady, sc if you'll give me your
word not to go away 1 11 take you into my
house out of the bustle of the statioo."
Mrs. Webster warn off, and Clara and
I went out to the house.
"What can it be, Uncle?"
"Can't say my dear; it will be some
thing to laugh at by and by, though it's
uot pleasant now."
"But about the ring ?—do you
think it possible that it's what mamma
| said ?"
"Possible ! my dear, it's ridiculous
i it's a hundred years old, and 1 dare say
it belonged to his mother before he gave
;t to you."
"I can't think what it can be."
"Dont think about it. It is a mistake
that is all; it will be all cleared up in *i
tew hours. We will have some dinner
and pass the time as well as we can."
"Do you know, uncle, I feel almost
glad of this ; it seem 9 like a break in the
dullness ; it puts off my wedding at least
a week. Mamma herself could not press
it for to morrow, after this."
We had dined, and got to be quite
• cheerful and laughed over the blunder as
; we sat at the window, w'ntu a rap at the
: door startled us both.
"Come in."
A gentleman entered.
"Miss Webster?"
Clara bowed.
"Miss Clara Webster?" he eaid, read
ing the name from a letter.
Clara bowed again.
lie handed her the letter, which she
opened, read, and dropped on the floor,
exclaiming :
"Thank God 1 thank God 1 0 uncle 1 I
am so happy 1" and then fell into a chair
I picked up the letter, and calling the
people of the house, very soon brought
her to, and we were od Cc 01" 0 VTii<-'
the bearer of the note, which ran as fol
lows :
"Tredgyr IIALL.
"Mr Francis Tredgar presents his com
pliments to Mi; 3 Webster, and beg 3 to
state that he must decline the fulfillment
of his promise to make hex his wife. The
unhappy circumstances of Miss Webster's
public arrest, on the charge of being in
possession of a diamond ring, stolen by
her former lover, will at ODee account to
her for this decision ; Mr. Tredgar's wife
must be above suspicion.
"Mr Tredgar also begs to inform Miss
Webstc-r that the services of his solicitor
Mr. Blake (the bearer.) are at her dispo
"Weil, Mr. Blake," said I "you see
we shall not require your services; I shall
wait the event, and, if it is not cleared up,
shall employ my own solicitor in the mat.
ter. Will you present my kind regards
to Mr. Francis Treadgar, aod express my
own and my niece's admiration of his
gentlemanly courtesy and kindness? I
would write to him if I did not consider
a correspondence with euch a miserable
cowardly scoundrel was too utterly de
grading to be thought of."
"I shall faithfully convey your message
sir, and allow me to assure jou that I was
quite ignoraot cf the contents of the let- j
ter, and that it shall be the last time I
ever bear one from him ; and now a3 you
will not let me help you a3 his solicitor,
allow me to proffer my services as a friend.'
"With all my heart, Mr. Blake ; come
in. here a few minutes before the train
comes iu, and we ehall be glad of your
"Was I not right, uncle dear?" said
Clara, as soon as we were alone. "Oh 1
you can't tell how happy I am ; I eaD
live now. O this glorious mistake lit is
the most fortunate thing that has hap
pened to me in all my life. Now you are
ulad aren't you ?" and she came up to me, <
"With ail hope s torches lit in both her eyes.
and kissed me, and would have me speak.
''Yes, darling, I aia glad—more glad
than I can find words to tell. Your fate
linked to such a man as this scoundrel,
would have been a living death. I am
heartily glad, Clara."
"This way, sir. The young person is
ia rny house; she gave her word not to.
attempt to leave ; the old gentleman it
with her."
This we heard through the door as the
station master came alone the passage. —
Our friend, Mr. Blake, had arrived some
time before.
The station master entered, and behind
him a tall, broad shouldered man, witL
bushy beard and moustaehe concealing
all the lower part of his face.
'•Will you have a light, sir?" said the
station master to the officer.
''Thank yon; no."
Clara started at the sound of the voice,
and laid her band on mine.
"Now, my good mao," began Mr.Blake,
"perhaps you'll explain this matter;
you telegraphed down from London to
stop this lady, and here she is. Now, if
you please, explain."
"This gentlemen/' I said to the officer,
"is my niece's legal adviser. I assume
it is a mistake ; still, we shall be glad of ■
your explanation. You are a detective,
I presume ?"
"No, sir, I am not; my name is
"Herbert! Herbert Imy dear Herbert,
it is you."
Clara had gone to him, and he was
clasping her in his strong arms, while her
face was hidden in his great beard.
"My own, my darling, my own true
Jarling ! She loves me Etill."
But why describe their meeting? Mr.
Biske said to me at once:
"My dear sit-, I am not wanted here,
and I doubt if you are," and we left
In half an hour we thought it possible
we might be less in the way, and we went
in. They sat on the sofa at a most sus
piciously great distance from each other,
and looked as happy and foolish as pos
"And now, my dear Herbert, please to
explain to us what it has taken you at least
half an hour to make clear to my Deice."
"Well, my dear uncle—l may call you
uncle 7"
"Oh yes; a month sooner is not much
"Don't uncle," said Clara.
"You know how I went away with just
enough to pay for tools, and outfit and
I passage. I went to California, to the
! diggings, and was lucky, got a good claim,
worked it, made a little money, took
shares in a machine, worked the claim,
improved the machinery, became mana
ger, director, and got rich, started six
months ago to come home for Clara, took
the fever at Panama, was down for two
months there, not able to move hand or
foot, and arrived only last night in Liv
pool. There I met an old friend, and
heard all the news —poor Webster's
death,the promise, and the rest,and above
all,that to-morrow was the day. I started
by the first train to get to London,think
ing that the marriage would take place
there, and that I should be in time. —
Looking out of the windows of the carri
age as the trains were passing each ether
at Peterborough I saw Clara and her
mother ; I did not see you. I was mad ;
the trains had both started, I could not
get out. There was Clara going from
me, and I going from her, as fast as ex
press trains could take us. What could
Ido ? I knew nothing of where she was
going, and yet my information was posi
tive that she was go'mg to be married to
morrow, solely because she would keep
her promise.
"Can you wonder at tny doing as I did ?
The train did not stop till it reached Lon
don, and I found that by the time I had
hunted up the address to which you had
gone, fiom the servants at home, I should
have lost the last train, and not been able
to get here till long past midnight. What
to do I could net think,
"In the carriage io which I sat some
body had been talking about the murder
er Taweli, and the telegraph, the police
on the doorstep, and so cn. It all flashed
across ray mind in an instant.
"I went to the telegraph office, and
looking in, saw there was only a young
lad there.
"I weot in and called him
" 'Can you telegraph to York for me ?'
" 'Certainly, sir.'
"I wrote the telegram you saw.
" 'You must Eign this, sir.'
" 'No, I must not, young man,' and I
drew him toward me by the shoulder.
"My name is Field, Inspector field;,
you understand I"
"Oh, certainly, sir. Did you catch
that man the other day ? I heard of it
from one of our clerks "
"Ob, yes, caught him safe and sound ;
he's in Newgate now.''
"Indeed, sir," said the lad.
" 'You'll send that at once, the train's
due in less than an hour. I'll see yon
do it.'
"He did send it, and as I heard the!
click, click, fclick, it was like the throb
of a new heart circulating fiery bmod in
my arteries, for I knew it would enable
me to see yon, Clara, dear, and then I
came down, as you see, by this train, and
I feel disposed now to embrace ad the
telegraph clerks ia the kingdom.''
"Well, young man, it's a dangerous
game; I suppose you are aware it is so
offence not lightly punished to pretend
you're an officer of the police," E-id >lr.
"My dear Mr. Blake, if it was death
ou the instant of discovery, and I was ia
the same strait, I should do the sam
thintr over again."
"You must find a prosecutor, Mr,
Biake," said Clara, "aod as I, the prin
cipal person concerned, am not going to
prosecute the officer, I tLink he will
"But why," said I, "did you not tele
graph to Clara direct ?"
"Because I feared that Mrs. Webster
might possibly have prevented our
Mr. Blake left us with Lis eyes twink
ling, and muttering to me something
about "servitude for life."
A month after this I had the pleasure
of giving away my niece to Herbert, and
in two months more I bad the pleasure
of reading in the 'Jirnes the announce
ment of the marriage of Mrs. Webster to
Francis Tredgar, Esq., of Tredgar Hall,
to which ceremony, 1 need scarcely say,
I was Dot invited.
Clara and Herbert and I live together,
and to this day he is spoken of amongst
Lis intimates a* Herbert L-angley, "tLat
active and intelligent officer."
Wives and Husbands.
With a wife comes a certain loss of
freedom,which is irksom to wilful natures.
This a man (who is a very short sighted
creature) never thinks of until after the
object of his love is his. Waking thor
oughly to the conciousness that lie i 3 a
married man, he finds in his honse a per
son who has an absolute claim on bis at
tention, bis time, Lis affection, 3nd his
service. He is surrounded by new con
ditions. All bis movements must start
from a new centre. Mr. JoDes before
marriage,could harness his pony and drivo
wherever impulse might direct; but Mr.
Jones after marriage,is obliged to rcmem-
:ber that Mrs. JuDes is in the house and
would like to accompany him —a fact,con
sidering the way towards which the po
ny's bead is turned, and the old eompan
j ions who lived on the way, that it is not
wholly agreeable to Mr. Jones. A uew
item comes mto ail his calculations.
Mr. Jones' life, which was once a skein
of silk,has become a stick of twist,and the
strand which he contributed cannot bo
separated from its fellow without a snarl,
Mr. Jones finds himself tied to Mrs Jones
for life, and also finds that certain free
dom which he enjoyed before marriago
cannot, with propriety, be eajojed after
marriage. This troubles Mr. Jooe3 a
little He has half a mind to rebel.—-
What business has a woman to to inter
• fere with him ? Perhaps he rebels with
a whole mind. Thousands do, and by
the failure to adapt themselves rationally
to their new connections inaugurate a life
of discord or indifference.
Absorption in business or professional
pursuits is, perhaps, the grand cause of
estrangement between married lives. Ia
France there is a saying that "Tobacco is
the tomb of love" —French love, proba
bly. In America business is the tomb of
love. It is hard if not impossibe.for two
great passions to live in the same heart
at the same time. It is difficult to lovo
woman and Mammon, as it is to servo
God and Mammon.
The love of 3 man for bis wife must bo
the grand, enduring, all absorbing passioa
of his life, or woman is defrauded c? her
right. The man who, when his wife ia
won, turns the whole energy of his life
into business, making that an end which
should only be a means,is married only it>
name. There is no narcotism of affection
like the strong love aod ceaseless pnrsu.t
of money. Turning gradually away from
the quiet soeiety of their wifes and the
enjoyments of their homes, tcosl men
yield themselves to the pursuit o I wealth
and iu the fierce excitements of their en
terprise, lose a taste for the calm delight#
of domestic life At the close of a day's
labor, they bring borne weary b'cii:-s and
worn minds. Nothing is saved for their
homes &r their wive. Their evenings ar
stupid and fretful, and the pillow and
forgetfulness are welcomed as a release
from ennui.—Hours at Hume.
As Father Taylor was giving a temper
ance address in Pocky Hill ineeting-houso
a certain drunkard was so mueh offended
by his severe but truthful remarks, that
he rose up and began to hiss the speaker,
lustaDtly Father Taylor turned the atten
tion of the large audience to the insolent
rowdv, and then forcibly said, as he point
ed to his victim, "There's a red no6e got
into cold water, don't you hoar it hiss."
The following is a copy of a letter re
ceived by a village schoolmaster: "i*ur,
as you are a man of no'iedge, I intend to
inter my son in your skull."
Landseer defines photography to L-s
'justice without mercy.''

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