6
TEARS—TO MRS. H. F. D.
Ey Sadie I*. King..
There are rain drops
On the window pane;
As I watch them, I breathe a sigh.
For they look like tears
Just ready to fall
From a sorrowing woman’s eye.
They bring to mind
Somo eyes I have seen,
Bright biack, some blue and grey
That had drops like these,
Just ready to fall
Ind quietly steal away.
I remember the first,
The flashing black eyes.
Of a mischievous, pretty gfrl,
Who was treading h/cueath
Her -careless feet,
Life’s best and pearl.
1 tried to wam z
Was it ruc?cV done
«bo did net know my heart;
1 see her now
With unshed tears,
From her black eves ready tostatK
The blue and the grey,
They are gone, they are gone.
Their light is dead to me;
But wherever I go,
In my dreamy hours,
Those glistening tears I see.
How slowly they fell,
From the dark grey eye,
And rolled down the faded cheek,
While the head was bowed,
And the spirit proud,
Kept back what it fain would speak.,
And now as the rain
On tho window pane,
Let fall those pearly tears,
I arise with a sigh,
For the days gone by,
As I think of the olden years.
theWmSet.
EY E'XMELIN BRANEE.
CHAPTER I.
This was what I read in a yellow and time
worn manuscript, which rustled like Autumn
leaves in my hand:
“The mellow beams of the ‘hunter’s moon
were falling on the path that led up to the door
of my new home, when I alighted from my
pony at the gate and looked around me. It was
a small white cottage, with a plantation of flr
trecs behind it, and four cross-roads meeting
just in front. At the junction of these roads a
atone cross was planted, which had evidently
been standing for many years, as it was over
grown with moss and lichen, and on one of the
arms a bluebird had built her nest.”
I looked up In sudden amazement. The house
ef which the writer spoke was my temporary
home; and there, just beyond the gate, were
the four cross-roads, the stone cross, and somo
remains of the bluebird’s nest still swinging in
the breeze I What did it mean?
“Some strange fancies took possession of
my mind as I gazed around and noted this pe
culiarity in tho landscape. At the crossing of
four roads, I had always been told in my child
hood, it wrs customary to bury the criminals
who had suffered tho full rigor of the law. It
was an old woman’s superstition, I know, that
possessed me but it seemed that I could im
agine far down beneath that cross the form of
a dead man, with a stake thrust through his
heart. When I leaned over the gate, and saw
a long and narrow mound at its foot, I was cer
tain that it was so, although at the same time
common sense taught mo to the contrary, and
made me smile at my folly.”
I laid down the paper and looked out at the
etone cross. The daisies were growing thickly
all around it, but at its foot they seemed
springing from a trench—their heads were low
er than those around them. I went out boldly,
for the afternoon sun was shining in the sky,
and gathered some from each place. The stems
were alike in length. This irregularity, there
fore, must proeee.l from some other cause—and
that, the sinking of tho grave where the mur
derer was buried. I shuddered as 1 thought of
him then with tho stake driven through his
heart. I came back and began to read again:
But I was not to be driven from my pur
pose by a grave. I had entered that solitude
in search of peace, and in that low-roofed cot
tage before'me it might perhaps bo found. I
unfastened the gate, wondering as I did so
whose fingers had touched it last, and went up
through the tall grass to the house. The door
was fastened with a rusty padlock, to which I
had the key. It creaked dismally as I entered,
and tho threshold, sloping downward, sent me
headlong into the room. A thousand echos
sounded through the house as I fell upon one
knee. When the noise and dust had subsided,
I struck a match, lit a small pocket taper which
I carried w,ith mo, and looked around. The
room in which I stood was largo and gloomy.
The walls were paneled and painted a dark
green tho casements were shattered, the floor
was loose, and croaking beneath my step, and
the air full of floating cobwebs, that hung from
the walls and ceiling, swaying about with every
breath of wind. Several largo rats ran across
the floor as I stood there a great toad eat in
the corner blinking at the unwonted light, and
a fat, bloated spider fell from the ceiling upon
my coat. I brushed him off with a shudder,
and passed into tho next room.”
I looked over my shoulder. Yes, he had de
scribed tho room faithfully. It was the same
now, though tho rats and the toad were gone,
and tho spider’s web had been brushed away.
But in tho inner room—the room which I bad
chosen as my favorite nook for reading or study
—what would he discover there
“It was much smaller than the other, lighter
and more cheerful. Through the broken case
ments camo the perfume of the blush roses
which grew outside, and the moonlight fell in
broken patches upon the floor, This room was
also paneled, but'it was painted prettily—some
light delicate tint, that was more like peach
color than anything else I can call to mind,
while the floor looked like clean green marble.
In this room I found the few articles of furni
ture which I had ordered—a table, some chairs,
a stove, a book-case, and my writing-desk. I
flung myself down in an easy-chair that stood
by the window, and inhaled the fragrance of
the roses while I surveyed my new domain.
Suddenly my eyes chanced upon an object
which made me start and sit upright in my
chair. My little taper was burning on the table
opposite me, and above it—right above it—a
face seemed growing out of the panel to con
front me. A dark swarthy Italian face, with
Jong snaky locks of black' hair falling around
the hollow cheeks, with piercing evil black
eyes, that seemed to look me through and
through. A dull red glow seemed to pervade
the whole face, as if fire was kindled behind it;
and through the lips, half parted in a sardonic
grin, I saw the gleam of white wolfish teeth,
sharp and regular. For a moment I sat mo
tionless, and heard my own heart beat. Then
I mustered courage to take up the lamp and
gaze at the thing still nearer. Pshaw 1 It was
only a picture painted on tho panel, and the
dull red glow was owing to some strange fancy
of theaitist. He had made the background
both lurid and murky, and tho pale face stood
out from it in bold relief. I sighed a sigh of
ineffable satisfaction when I found what it re
ally was, and went out to care for my horse,
who began to neigh and stamp impatiently. I
saw him safely bestowed for tho night, and
coming back, found my own small cot placed
in a bedroom which opened out of that which
contained tho picture, and which I had digni
fied by the name of study.
“Ii was not late when I extinguished my
taper and laid down to sleep, but the moon had
mounted high in the heavens before I closed
my eyes. I had never thought myself a fanci
ful or imaginative man; my nerves I had al
ways supposed proof against all danger, seen
er unseen, yet somo strange presentiment
haunted me, and that face was close beside me
all the time. To me it seemed like the face of
a fiend.
"I do not know that I should have slept till
daybreak, had it not been for a neigh from my
pony, who also seemed restless. Strange as it
may seem, that soothed mo with a sense of
companionship and safety, and I found tho re
pose I so much needed.”
The picture of tho Italian face had never
been removed from the panel on which it was
painted. I arose from my Beat in the open
door (for, as the story progressed, I dared not
read in the house), and went in to look at it.
Many a time had it startled me, but never so
much as then. A new expression seemed
stamped upon tho face; the lurid glow deep
ened and darkened, and tho thin lips smiled
more sardonically than ever. I remember
thinking as I stood there that it only needed a
pair of horns projecting beneath that tangled
black hair, and a deep furrow upon the brow
es if hot iron had been across it, to make a
faithful picture of the arch enemy—of that
fallen angel who was cast out of Heaven, and
whose haughty soul even tho torture of Hades
Could not hold in check.
I dared not look at it long, but went back to
the door, where the sunshine, and the blue
sky, and the happy songs of birds seemed in a
measure to keep me company. And the manu
-script went on:
“My forebodings had all vanished when I
woke the next morning and found the sun
shining gloriously into my room. Through
the day I had no leisure to ihink of mysteries,
so busy was I in getting my little household
into order. By nightfall all was settled as it
should be and having visited Fidele and given
him his supper, his nightly bit of sugar, and
his good-night caress, I closed the little gate
pf tho yard behind mo, and set off for a walk.
The moon was up—it was a glorious night.
I could have read the finest pxintby that clear,
open light. I passed along the grass-grown
road with my hands clasped behind me, and my
head bent upon my breast, singing a’sorig I had
heard in Italy in my youth. Now and then I
fancied that I heard a step behind me, and a
voice joining with mine in the song, but when I
looked around I was always alone. Tho road
led me up a green hill crowned with birches,
while the highway ran around its base, with a
broad swift river flowing just beside It. I
paused upon the summit to hoar the murmur
of the water. Before mo I saw a grass-grown
iomb, whose iron door seemed to have been
closed for centuries, while just beyond the
white stones of a churchyard were sleeping
peacefully in tho moonlight.”
JS&U did 1 kuou jhftt dplot plaije, Qftcn dur-
mg th' j ong hours of a Summer had
1 lm 'gcred there among tho mosy headstones,
mig down upon the road and river below,
tT xining the roses that grew wild within tlrnen
closures, or reading some favorite book as I
sat witbin the shelter of the oKI wall. But at
night I always avoided it—itjV/as a lonely spot.
“I leaned over tho crumbling wall,” this
strange man went on to cay, and mused si
lently over the sleepers who were resting there.
How was it with them now How was it with
them whom I bad loved and lost Did they
remember me in their new home? Had they
one thought him to whom their very mem
ory was a torture so deeply had he mourned
their loss While I asked myself these ques
tions, I beard a step behind me. Turning
quietly round, I saw a tall man dressed in black
coming toward me. The door of the tomb was
open—bad he come from there He greeted
mo with easy familiarity, but there was some
thing so unearth!* in his aspect, that I could
aot answer him. Ills face was pale and thin,
his hair long and black, and hanging upon his
shoulders in neglected masses, his eyes black,
gloomy and terrible. I thought of the mys
terious picture in my study. Feature by fea
ture it was reproduced hero before me.
“‘You may well be startled,’ho said with a
careless laugh. I come from a suspicious lo
cality but make yourself easy. Though I have
just emerged from the tomb, I do not always
dwell there. Do you still hesitate There is
a hand of flash and blood for you—will you
take it
“He stretched out a white, thin and blood
less hand. A diamond ring of great lustre
sparkled on one of the long fingers. Ashamed
of my momentary weakness, I took it in mine,
but dropped it the next moment with a shud
der. It was cold as ice. He smiled sarcasti
cally.
"‘The air of that underground chamber
yonder is famous for cooling tho blood, I be
lieve.’
‘But who are you? How came you there?’
I stammered. The door looked to me as if it
never could be opened.’
“‘The easiest thing in the world,’he said,
carelessly. ‘lf yon wili step inside with me,
you will see why I am there.’
“it was a mad idea, but the strange adven
ture thrilled me with a kind of pleasure.
“‘Lead on; I will follow you,’ I said.
We went down two narrow moss-grown
steps, and stood within the entrance of the
tomb. In the vault beyond a fire was burning
beneath a crucible, and several old and worm
eaten manuscripts were thrown carelessly
around. A child’s coffin was standing before
the fire, but it was empty, and only used us a
seat. Far back in the distance I could see the
moist earth on the sides of the tomb glisten in
the dull light of tho dying fire, like countless
eyes that were watching me.
“My strange companion left me standing
beside the door, and going forward, took the
crucible from the fire. Ho shook it, looked
into it, poured a molten mass from into a broad
ewer that stood close by, aud stirred the liquid
with a small rod of iron.
1 It is in vain. I have failed once more,’ I
heard him mutter, aud then the rod fell from
bis hands, and he sat down, listless and de
spondent, on the little coffin.
You are an alchemist,’ I said, suddenly,
thinking I had found the clue to his choice of
so strange a retreat.
‘Yes,’ he answered, looking at me with in
terest. ‘For fifty years—fifty years I have
been seeking for that which shall turn all
things to gold, and I have never found it yet.
But never mind, the day must come—must
come and will 1’
“He rose from his seat, raked the hot ashes
over the still glowing coals, put crucible and
ewer carefully away, and led me out of the
vault. With one push of his seemingly fragile
hand, he set the iron tomb of the door in its
socket and fastened it. It still looked as if'
years had gone by since it had been opened.
“‘You have great strength,’l said, admir
ingly.
And it has been employed in a good
cause,’ he answered, with a hard laugh.
He fastened the last bolt and turned away,
saying
“‘All is safe till I come again. No one will
think of looking there for any tidings ol me.’
Side by side we took our way down the hill
and over the lowly grass-grown road. We did
not speak till we reached the gate of my cot
tage yard. Then ho paused and leaned over
the fence a moment.
‘You have a pleasant home,’ he said, look
ing at the window where the taper was burning
in readiness for my return.,
I like it, such as it is. But it is late will
you not rest beneath my roof to-night
•“No, no, my way lies yonder,’ he said,
pointing by the old stone cross,
It is a lonely road.’
It is. And strange stories are told of this
house sometimes. Years ago, when you were
a boy, a man was hung in the town yonder.’
And he pointed over the hill. ‘He lived in
this house once; and, would you believe it,
the fools will have it that he is buried hero
where the cross roads meet. But you aud I
know better.’
“Ho laughed a horrid laugh, and his eyes
shone green and baleful as ho turned them on
me.
‘Yes, we know better,’ I answered, quietly,
though my very blood was chilled within me.
“He wrung my hand in hie cold fingers,
muttered a hasty good-night, and strode away.
I hurried along the path that led to the door.
The rusty lock delayed me a moment, and
when I had opened the door and turned to
look after him, he was gone I The moon shone
clear and bright on road, and tree, and hill,
hut of him there was no trace. I laid down
that night with an unquiet heart.”
CHAPTER 11.
“Mystery was around me. Whichever way
I turned my steps, something puzzled, and
perplexed, and haunted me. The old house
itself, which I had thought so quiet, was full of
sounds. As I sat in my study, absorbed in a
favorite book, I could bear steps upon the
loose board of tho upper floors, or dismal
knocks from the cellar, as if some one was nail
ing a coffin there. Into these regions I had
never penetrated. 1 had no use for them, and
had hardly deemed them worth my notice.
But now that the low whisperings, which I had
at first attributed to the winds, became audi
ble, even when the winds were hushed; now
that I could distinctly hoar something lift the
latch of my bedroom door, and step around
the room, though, at tho same time my strain
ing eyes could discern nothing in the gloom, I
thought I would search out everything, and
know what I bad seen.
“While I was preparing matches, tapers,
and some other necessaries, on the morning I
had devoted to the investigation, a knock came
at the door. I opened it, half expecting my
ghostly friend—the image of the picture—
would stand before me. But, no. In his place
was a stout, ruddy, hale old man, the proprie
tor of the place, who had come to see how I
was pleased with my new quarters. I wel
comed him gladly. He was a stern, matter-of
fact, practical old fellow. In his presence I
could be calm, and quiet, and cool. There was
nothing about him to bewilder or mystify me;
but much to make me more like mvself than I
had been for days before. I told him what I
was about to do. He eyed me shrewdly, took
the basket and shovel near him, and opened
the door of the cellar. I knew, then, by his
manner, that it was not all fancy that there
was some actual foundation for tho sounds I
had heard.
“We went down tho dark and crumbling
stairs. The faint gleam of the taper fai ed to
light the gloomy cavern in which we found our
selves, and we sat down at the foot of the steps
till our eyes became accustomed to tho faint
light.
You have heard something here that sends
you down on this search, I take it,’ said Mr.
Nichols, as ho poked the moist earth up with
his cane.
“‘I have, and something which I do not
intend to hear again, unless I know the reason
of it.’
A low muffled knock camo on tho wall close
beside us as I spoke.
“‘Lord eave usl Was that it?’ exclaimed
Nichols, starting.
Something like it, I believe.’
“We sat in silence for some time, but noth
ing more came.
Who used to live here long ago ?’,I asked.
Ono Roberts, I believe.’
And before him
“Nichols hesitated a moment, and then an
swered frankly
‘My boy, I’ll not deceive thee. Years ago,
when I was but a boy, the house was tenanted
by Cimabue —Giovanni Clmabue—who was
hung at last, and rightly he deserved it! He
was a queer knave, and used to potter by the
hour over a kind of kettle, thinking he was
going to find gold at the bottom. At last he
murdered a man in this very house—don’t
start so, man I—was tried, condemned, hung,
and lies buried out the other side of the fence,
under the stone cross. Now you have the
whole story.’
Not quite,’ I answered, turning sick and
faint. ‘He walks?
A deep sepulchral voice seemed to echo the
words at my elbow, and Mr. Nichols fairly
bounded in his seat.
‘Did you hear that, lad? I believe in my
very soul he is here close beside mo at this
moment.’
“I could see better now, and tho old man’s
ruddy face had grown white.
“‘Nichols,’l said, calmly, ‘in this house I
shall never stay another night. Yet wo won’t
be frightened away from this just yet.’
‘No, we wontl’
And summoning his English courage to his
aid, he wiped his forehead with bis handker
chief, and planted his feet doggedly against
the step on which we were sitting.
"•“The other night,’l continued, ‘if ever I
saw living man, I saw Giovanni Qimabus— and
conversed with him, tOQ?
“‘Eh? What?’
•“He camo from ah old tomb npon the hill
side. I followed him into it, and there were
his crucible, his books, his diving-rod.’
•“Lad, lad,’ejaculated the old farmer, grow
ing still paler, ‘you are describing what was in'
tho old tomb forty years ago. But it has never
been there since. I have seen it empty with
my own eyes, and the door was nailed fast to
the rock.’
“It is strange how often when wo are near
ing a frightful story, some chanoe word may
startle us, even when the tale has failed to do
so. What he said about the nails struck a cold
SbUl to my very hearfc
NEW YORK DISPATCH.
Nevertheless,’ I persisted, I saw it all on
that night. And the man who was with me
opened and shut that heavy door as if it had
been a wicker gate.’
‘Describe him.’
Go and look at the head which is painted
on the wall in the room above us.’
Does it look like him
It is a perfect portrait,'
Then you bane seen alm,’ ho said, with
startling emphasis, ‘for faij painted it himself
before he died. And do you know,’ he added,
sinking his voice into al®w whisper, time and
time again we have tried to wash the painted
imago off, but it sticks like blood, and will
have to stay there te the end of time, unless
something stronger than soap and sand is dis
covered?
‘But why does he not rest, now he is in his
grave?’ I asked.
Satan only knows 1 It may be, though’—
Nicholsmused a moment, aud then turned and
faced me. ‘My friend, I have heard it said
that more than one murder had been commit
ted hero by him. In the darkest corner of the
cellar yonder I have seen a pile of earth that
does not look just right. Shall we see what is
there?’
‘I will go with you? I answered.
Only a few nights before I had followed a
dead man into the tomb—l was not likely to
fail a living one now.
“As we set foot in the corner, alow, omin
ous knocking, which I had so often heard while
sitting up stairs, commenced on all sides of us,
but we would not turn back.
Through my life I have feared neither
man nor devil? said Nichols, stoutly, ‘and it
shall not be said that I fled now?
“He struck the spade into the earth. A hol
low groan echoed through the cellar, and he
started back.
I thought just then I had cut into a man’s
heart? he said, in a trembling voice. ‘Did I
tell you that Cimabue was buried with a stake
through his
No; but I guessed as much. Give me the
spade?
“I snatched it from him, thrust the lamp
into bis hand, and, setting my teeth, labored
with desperate energy. Sights and sounds
were not wanting around us. Now a pale
gleam of light would play around us then all
would be dark as night but for tho starry flame
of our lamp. We would hear a sigh, a mock
ing laugh, or a strain of sweet and sad music
close beside us, but we took no notice. With
might and mam I labored on till the perspira
tion stood in great drops upon my forehead.
Suddenly my spade struck upon something
hard, and we both bent eagerly down to look.
A square box, embedded in tho earth, wks be
neath us. It took somo time to loosen it, but
when we once had firm hold it camo up easily
and lightly. We placed the lamp upon it, and,
leaving the spade behind us, wont toward the
stairs. A cold wind rushed through the place
as we reached their foot, and extinguished the
lamp. At the same time I was conscious of
some invisible thing pressing against the box,
and trying to force us and it back again.
‘Don’t yield now? I cried to Nichols, who
was breathing hard and heavily. ‘We must go
on now?
‘You’re right, my boy, go on! he answer
ed, sturdily, and I am afraid I heard him
swearing in his perplexity.
“We pushed our way by main strength
through the darkness to tho head of the stairs.
When the door flew open, and the broad light
ol day shone in upon us, that strange resist
ance ceased of a sudden, and we bore our bur
den into the other room without any further
opposition.
“‘Thank God!’ said Nicholas, sinking into
my easy chair, and fanning himself. I never
expected to get through that alive. Boy, we
have been fighting with the fiends this morn
ing, I believe. Four mo out a glass of wine
from yonder decanter before wo try to open
this box?
“I did as I was desired, and quaffed a gen
erous bumper myself. Indeed, we both needed
it after our fright and peril.
Now I am stronger? was his next remark.
Give mo an ax?
“I brought him one. Ho poised it in his
hand, glanced onco at Cimabue’s picture, and
brought it down with a heavy blow that broke
the lid of the box into fifty pieces. I caught
one glimpse of the body of 4 man, but when
tho ax touched it, it crumbled into dust, and
was as nothing. Only some moldenng bones,
a tress or two of fair hair, and the blade of a
dagger remained to tell of one who had been
hurried by violence into an untimely grave.
“‘Close tho box again, and we will bury
him? said Nichols, after looking at him a mo
ment.
“Tho lid was split and hacked in all direc
tions, but I found another in a little shed be
yond the barn, and we nailed it down securely
over the last witness of Giovanni Cimabue’s
crime. Lifting the box, we found a shady
place just beside the door. Wo dug a grave,
and laid him there and a rosebush growing
near, we transplanted and trained to cover bis
last home with grace and beauty.”
Reader, I sat in the door with my feet upon
the step that was like tho headstone to that
lonely grave. The blush roses, whose beauty
and fragrance were drawn from that dead
man’s dust, blushed on my breast and in my
hair. With a sudden revulsion of feeling, I
tore them away, and threw them far from me.
I sprang up from my favorite resting place,
and went and leaned against the old well curb
to finish the story. For so deep a hold had it
taken upon my imagination, and so real and
true did every incident seem, that I believe I
should have read it to the end, even had Gio
vanni Cimabue arisen from his grave beneath
the old stone cross, and the man ho had nfur
dered stood ready to meet and defy him, where
the blush roses budded and blossomed besido
tho cottage door.
“This sad duty done, we know that we could
no longer remain there. Nichols helped me to
bring out the few articles of furniture I had
hired of him, and put them out outside the
gate, till he could send for them. I took adast
look at the familiar scenes where I had hoped
to dwell for many days; I scanned the dark
face of the murderer for the last time, and
then we came out and locked the cottage door
behind us. I brought my pony around, and
fastened him beside the gate.
“Nichols went with me, and stood by Cima
bue’s grave.
‘lt is to be hoped he will restnow? he said,
emphatically. ‘But you, lad—whither will you
wind? Why not come and stay a while with
us My house is large enough to hold another.
You had best come?
I shook my head.
“‘No—I must be alone. I shall find a
place yet, I believe, where man has done no
violence?
I shook my head.
And we part here—forever
I suppose so?
Your way lies over the mountains
“•Yes?
‘lf I were younger and stronger, I believe
I should go with you. But, as it is, I can only
say—God bless thee, lad, and good-by?
“‘Good-by, sir?
“We shook hands warmly, he patted Fidele
kindly as he passed him, and took his way down
through the valley where he lived. I gazed
upon him till he was out of sight, and then
mounted my pony.
“I looked back at the cottage as I rode
away, and I could have sworn that the face of
Giovanni Cimabue was watching me from the
window. It might have been a fancy—but
it does not matter—since tho house is empty
now.”
The paper fell from my trembling hands.
“But it does matter—it must matter 1” I said
to myself. For lam here, and for days and
weeks I have been walking over graves without
knowing it.”
I looked toward the house. There were many
things inside belong ng io me. These could be
brought away by a servant, for of course after
what I bad read I could never think of living
there any longer. But my bat, my scarf, my
gloves—these were necessary articles, and in
the inner room.
I will not be a fool,” I said to myself, and
walked bravely in after them.
In spite of myself, I took one last look at
Cimabue’s face, as I snatched my hat and scarf
from their nails, and my gloves from tho table.
It seemed to work and change, and as I gazed,
the outer door swung together with a heavy
clang. A cold wind rustled through the room,
voices and footsteps seemed all around me,
and I fled, like a coward, with my heart beat
ing fast, and my limbs growing weak beneath
me.
I could scarcely open the outer door, with my
trembling hands, nor did strength and courage
return with the first long breath of fresh air.
A stealthy footstep seemed stealing behind me.
I could hear the creaking of the floor, and as I
hurriedly locked the outer door, I fancied I saw
the pale, dark face looking through the window,
and a dead man’s hand parting the branches
of the blush rose that a dead man’s eyes might
look upon me.
The stone cross rose, dark and gloomy, in the
advancing twilight, the daisies upon the mur
derer’s grave bowed their snowy heads to the
ground, as a night wind went sweeping by. I
stood but a moment there; heartland sense
were failing me alike, and I fled, like a deer,
along the road that led to the town.
WOMAN’S WILES.
HOW SOME YOUNG YVASHOEITES
WERE CONFinEXCED.
The Territorial Enterprise of the 26th ult.
tells the following
For some time past, a lady—“pretty as a
pink”—has been stopping in this city. Al
though modest, she was not averse to becom
ing acquainted with persons of tho opposite
sex, and all the gentlemen who made her ac
quaintance were charmed with her affectionate
disposition and confiding nature. When they
came to know that in her they beheld a case
of “beauty in distress,” their hearts were
opened, indeed. By degress she made known
to them that she was greatly in need of money,
expected remittances having failed to reach
her, and the like in fact, she was thinking—
seriously thinking of pawning a portion of her
jewelry—her darling diamonds. But, oh 1 the
shame, the confusion of being obliged to go to
a pawnbroker’s, there to vulgarly spout” her
treasures—keepsakes all, from dearest and de
parted friends 1 She would ask no one to loan
her money but should any person oblige her,
she would gladly put in the bands of that per.
stfn one of ppj mogt variable and most turn
ureed rings—indeed, she would insist upon
that person being thus secured—it must bo so,
as otherwise she would be exceedingly un
happy. At the same time, however, no living
soul must know that she had parted—oven for
the moment parted with a single one of her
jewels. It would kill her to have it known to
what a strait she was reduced, etc., ad infini
tum. Thus, taking them one at a time, she
opened her heart to a long list of male ac
quaintances, and each in turn opened his purse,
and each treasured in his inmost soul—for her
dear sake—the secret of her unpleasant situa
tion. They—confiding souls—are still keeping
her secret and her darling diamonds, most re
freshing unaware that the dear distressed left
the city night before last with a total in loan's
of about $3,500. The gold in which the jewels
are set is good—which is some cornfortv-but
the jewels themselves, though sparkling and
beautiful to behold, are as base as it is possi
ble for a very superficial article of paste to be.
Let all the victims meet together this solemn
Sunday morning, and join in singing
Oh 1 she was beautiful
As a butterfly,
long metre. Old, rusty diamonds and sec
ond-hand gold bars” are pretty good security
sometimes, but not always. Two years ago,
some of the members of our Legislature
generous and palpitating fellows—loaned this
same “dear distressed’’ all their sparo “scads”
on her cherished family jewels, and they have
got ’em yet. Then they were assisting the
“Church;” afterward some found “Graves”
over which to weep; but on the occasion of
this, her last visit, at times at such a Gate
wood” she go on, that the only wonder is that
she left any loose coin behind her.
howTwon'h wife.
BY EUGENE RAYMOND.
My name is Augustus Browning. I believe
at one time some of my friends had serious
fears that I would never enter the state of
matrimony. At all events, each friend knew
somo one who would make me such a nice wife.
What had I done to be so unmercifully perse
cuted?
I remember one evening I was requested to
make myself agreeable to a young lady, at the
house of a friend.
“So amiable,” said our hostess, and when
presented I found her all “my fancy painted
her,” and more also.
So much amiability, and flesh combined, was
more than I could comprehend at one and the
same time. Notwithstanding I was told her
father’s money-bags would balance them, I had
my own ideas on that score, although I kept
them to myself. One may make a good many
points that way through life.
As I have said. I had my own ideas of a wife.
I know I should find somewhere in this great
world a woman pure as a snowdrop, and mod
est as a daisy, with a sweet voice and dainty
ways. With eyes that might flash, yet be con
trolled by the gentle power of love.
Notwithstanding the match-making propen
sities of my friends, I remained steadfastly a
bachelor until thirty, and enjoyed heartily my
single-blessedness. The ladies will doulitless
think that during this time my garments were
without buttons, and my hosiery with more
than the proper apertures, but such was not
tho case, Mrs. Vail, my landlady, being in
charge thereof. She was a very'nice house
keeper, and a woman who had seen better days,
or at least happier ones, if one might judge
from occasional remarks made by her, and the
fact that she occupied a house of her own—a
three-story brick—on a pleasant street, away
from the business part of the good old city of
Boston.
I had breakfast and tea at the house, but
dined down town for, being head clerk in a
large wholesale house, I found it necessary to
look promptly after the interests of my employ
ers, considering likewise I was working for my
self, as I expected to be one of the partners the
next year.
At Mrs. Vail’s, my room was the second story
front, and afforded me a good view of ail that
transpired in the street, and as I was not ac
quainted with my neighbors, nor even knew
their names, I used to sit Summer nights in a
comfortable easy chair by the window, smoking
fragrant cigars, building castles in the air, and
watching the occupants over the way.
Some one at my elbow says, “I ought to
have been ashamed of myself,” but I do not
know that I have ever regretted it.
I discovered that a beautiful girl glided
gracefully about the house, in drapery that
seemed to envelop her like a delicate Summer
cloud.
I noticed her little caressing ways about the
loved ones, and of course it must have been
the “maiden fair to see” whose voice I hoard
trilling away as only birds and maidens can.
I am a man who cannot even now resist pay
ing homage to every bit of womanhood I see,
therefore when this pleasure was to be my
evening’s entertainment, can -you wonder that
I remained at home, nothing else offering any
attraction
I ventured to ask, one morning, who our
neighbors were over the way, whereupon Mrs.
Vail said
“Oh! that is Mr. Forrest’s house. They
have lived there for many years, for I remem
ber their daughter Grace when she was a little,
wee thing—she used to look so sweet in hex
white frock and corals.”
I thought to myself she was just as sweet
now as she was then, if not sweeter.
“I have heard,” continued Mrs. Vail, “that
when young she was a somnambulist, but she
may have got over it. I’ve not heard of it lately.
I'm very little acquainted with them, but it’s a
good thing to know one’s neighbors, in case of
tire or any accident happening,” which sensi
ble remark finished, I roamed ijj fancy with
the beautiful unknown, while visions of operas
and hair-breadth escapes were mingled in de
lightful confusion.
“Rather a dangerous yonng lady to marry,
Mrs. Vail,” said I, my dream being over.
Bless me you don’t think of marrying, do
you, Mr. Browning said she, looking alarmed
—I suppose the thought of losing me was in
supportable.
“Well, not at present,” said I. I’ve noth
ing to live on, and, of course, must have ten
thousand a year at first.”
All day long I thought of Grace, and imme
diately after tea sought my room and looking
glass to take an inventory of my personal at
tractions. I camo to the conclusion that I was
a good-looking fellow, and I’d go in and win—
if I could. But I must tell you of myself, and
leave you to judge.
I am not what the ladies call a love, and a
perfect little dear of a man. On the contrary,
I am tall, rather stout, with fair complexion,
hazel eyes, and brown hair, that, although cut
short, will curl in spite of fate; a mouth too
womanly for one of the sterner sex, and teeth
that render a smile irresistible. Men know
when they are admired.
My business matters were all right, and there
was nothing on my mind but the admiration of
one of the fairest of New England’s daughters.
Glorious spring-time of life, flying so swiftly
that we long for the far-famed elixir of per
petual youth and vigor.
I took my post at the window, and observed
that the family were moving about-, dressed as
if to receive company. My heart beat fast with
jealous fear. Perhaps some lover is expected
or it might be a marriage.
“Have 1, then, wasted my time,” I solilo
quized, “while some miserable fellow has
walked in and borne away the prize
Just then Grace entered the room more beau
tiful than ever, and very soon the guests began
to arrive.
They danced and sang, and I was in a fine
state of misery as I watched the attentions be
stowed upon Grace. I Waited until every
guest had departed, and satisfied myself there
was no whispered good night for any favored
one. After every light had disappeared I was
still disinclined for sleep, spite of the morrow’s
duties. I sat as if moonstruck, thinking of the
future, and wondering how I might gain en
trance to its, to me, enchanting portals.
It.waa past midnight, and X was gazing at
tho innumerable stars shining so f»r away in
the deep blue heavens, when my attention was
attracted by the appearance of a ghostly look
ing figure gliding about over the roof of our
neighbor’s house.
What in the name of common sense is
that I asked myself, and rubbed my eyes
to see if I might bo dreaming; but no, it was
still flitting from one side to the other, as if
searching f»r something lost, but at last came
to the ewe trough, and depositing a small par
cel in it, turned and glided away as swiftly as
it had appeared. I remembered Mrs. Vail’s
words, and resolved that the woman I intended
to bestow my name upon should take no more
nocturnal rambles. Concluding I had seen
quite enough for one night, I sought my pillow
and was soon asleep.
Glancing at the paper next morning, while
waiting for breakfast, my eye fell on the follow
ing advertisement:
“Rewabd—Any person giving information
leading to the discovery of a full set of coral,
taken from the residence of James Forest,
Chestnut street, will bo liberally rewarded.”
Now,” thought I, I’ll attend to that little
matter myself with all the pleasure in the
world.” The fates were at last propitious. My
actions must have been strange, however, as
Mrs. Vail kindly inquired if I was as well as
usual that morning.
Once at my place of business, I remarked
that our neighbors over the way had been
robbed the evening previous.
What, James Forest?” asked one of the
clerks. “He is a lawyer and has an office on
Court street. He’s a fine old chap—got a pretty
daughter and lots of tin."
I decided to call on Mr. Forest, and on reach
ing his office found him alone and disengaged.
I introduced myself and told him what I had
seen, and that from motives of delicacy fox the.
young lady I had not mentioned it, but thought
I would come and inform him of my suspi
cions.”
“That you may heartily,”said he. “lean
easily obtain the missing articles, and if you
like, I shall take pleasure in introducing you
to my family. If not otherwise engaged, sup
pose you come over this evening.
Wasn’t I a jolly fellow on leaving that office?
Perhaps I didn’t congratulate myself that I was
naturally of an Inquisitive disposition. I could
not whistle of course, nor smoke a cigar—that
was against the law—so I walked directly back
to my business, trying not to look too radiant;
but I was so kind to my inferiors that the
clerks thought I had boon imbibing, ox had xo
cejyvd a legacy.
I had never had even a passim? _ _
lady of my acquaintance, and an ,Y
women were about alike as a thought all
But the name of Grace see _fS s ?F de<l b®auty
sical in the world. I rep mu-
myself while dressing ~-.'J a I ed ove f to
ready to go, took orr r m Y visit, and when
'“j polled mvself J more Jook m the glass,
the a.imfratir i<hot for ik occurred to
I natsedthe >n mighfc be ail on one side
rnXai and waning in the presence of Grace
than went bon!e more hopelessly in
dream r jVer Th9 da va flew like a pleasant
ujeaDj, r_ n( j every evening found me a we-lcome
victor at Mr. Forrest’s house. I found the
"ampty well-informed, refined, and of the opin
ion that Boston was the Hub and also the
Modern Athens.”
I was invited to attend church, and then to
drive, which invitations were seconded by a
blush and smile from Grace that always settled
the question.
Ono evening, after tea, we adjourned to the
drawing-room, and were chatting pleasantly,
when Mrs. Forrest was called from the room to
attend to one of the younger members of the
family, and soon Mr. Forrest followed suit as
unceremoniously as if I were an old friend.
Was ever such an opportunity given a man?
I concluded then and there to know my fate.
“Grace,” said I—l had taken the liberty of
addressing her thus before—“did you recover
the articles purloined from your jewel-box?”
“Oh, you saw that, did you? Yes, I got
them, but papa was very quiet about it, and
would say nothing about the reward.”
“Well,” said I, “I know something about
that myself, and if I thought I should not of
fend, I might tell you.”
“I know papa would not care,” said Grace,
“'for he told me to find out, if I could.”
“I believe then,” said I, “that I will claim
the reward, as I am the man who informed
your father of their hiding place.”
“lam sure I thank you very much,” Baid
Grace, “but the idea of offering you a re
ward
“Oh, I shall claim one,” I interrupted, grow
ing bold. “It is this little hand.”
But I shan’t tell you how she answered, or
what more was said, only the old folks opened
the door very unexpectedly, while my arm was
about her, and her head upon my shoulder.
I heard some very pleasant words from Mr.
and Mrs. Forrest, but in the excitement I for
got them.
I flattered myself it was very well done, and
Grace, learning the whole story alter marriage,
concluded to promenade in future in dayligut,
and m full dross.
sThFTuT.
BY MAX ADELEB.
WRITING IT UP HIGH.
We give notice to our astronomical friends
that it they perceive any new and startling
signs in the heavens during the next two or
three weeks, they need not be scared; because
the manifestations will only be the result of a
little frantic demonstration on the part of a
poet out in St. Louis. This is what he says
I stood upon ths ocean's briny shore.
And with a fragile reed I wrote
Upon the sand—
Agnes, I love thee 1’
The mad waves rolled by and blotted out
7 he fair impression.
‘Frail reed I Cruel wave! Treacherous sand 1
I’ll trust ye no more;
But wnh gianthand I’ll pluck
From Norway's frozen shore
Her tallest pine, and dip its top
Into the cratur of Vesuvius,
And upon the high and burnished heavens
l’il write—
Agnes, I love thee 1’
Of course wo have no objection to this. If
the poet loves Agnes, and is afraid to teil her
so, why he may take a whole brigade of tele
graph poles and scribble Vesuvian love-letters
over the entire firmament above, for all we
care, providing he writes them out plainly,
FEEBLE-MINDED PIETY.
All the Sunday school papers in the country
are publishing another ono of those moral
anecdotes, constructed by some feeble-minded
wretch who imagines that he has a peculiar
talent for educating babes. The affecting tale
runs in this fashion
A Persian monarch said to an old man
Father, tell me thine age how many rev
olutions of the sun hast thou counted
“Sire,” said the aged being, “I am but four
years old.”
"Whatl” interrupted the king, “facrest
thou not to answer me falsely, or dost thou
jest on the brink of the tomb?”
I speak not falsely, sire,” replied the aged
man. "Eighty long years have I wasted in
folly and sinful pleasures; four only have I
spent in doing good to my fellow-men. And
shall I count those years that have utterly
been wasted? Are they not worse than blank,
and is not that portion only worthy to be reck
oned as a part of my life which has answered
life’s best end
Now, the moral of the old man’s story may
be good enough, but the fact is, that an ordi
nary Sunday school boy would have no difficul
ty in perceiving that the venerable offender
told a scandalous lie. Perhaps old men may
be allowed to fib, so they get the morals of their
anecdotes straightened out for the benefit of
the young but it is going to be rough on the
rising generation if the boys happen to get a
notion that good old philosophers who are
certain to go to heaven never have any regard
for the truth.,
THE LATEST ALEXIS SENSATION.
It is asserted as an actual fact that a woman
in Connecticut has written to our friend Cata
cazy, offering to present to-the Duke a picture
frame made entirely of toe nails. She assures
Catacazy that it is the only one of the kind in
the country, and we believe it. At the same
time, if it shall appear that the Duke is fond of
such things, there will soon be plenty of them
offered to him. Some of the warriors and
brevet noblemen who clung to him while he
was in this city, would divest themselves not
only of nails, but hair and teeth, to win an ap
proving smile from the Duke.
CHEAP VACCINATION.
There is a printer in Norristown who learned
that there was a physician in Williamsport who
vaccinated printers for nothing. So he visited
that place, was vaccinated, and returned home
after having spent fourteen dollars for his
trip. The price of vaccination in Norristown
is fifty cents, and he is now engaged in an ef
fort to cipher out how it ie that it costs more
when it is done for nothing.
ANOTHER MISCREANT TYPO.
Probably the most disgraceful typographical
error ever made was that perpetrated by a New
York printer. An advertisement was sent to
him headed The Grand Duke Preserved by
Brady.” Of course it was a puff of a photo
graph of his highness. But will it be believed
that this miserable man actually made the type
say, The Grand Duke Preserved in Brandy 1”
This is too much. We shall have war with
Russia because of it, for certain.
GRANTED A NEW TRIAL.
An Indiana convict, who was hung three
months ago, has just been granted a new trial.
He does not appear to take a great deal of in
terest in it himself, and when the decision of
the court was announced he behaved exactly as
if it made no difference at all to him. Some
men are very unexcitable.— Philadelphia Sun
day Dispatch.
A Blind Rone’s Revenge.
How He Butchered His Paramour—
An Appalling Scene of Blood.
(From the Baltimore American, Dec. I.J
A frightful tragedy was enacted about six
o’clock yesterday afternoon, at-the house of ill-
repute, No. 51 Josephine street, an occurrence
well calculated to arouse the weird and super
stitious interest which attaches among the ig
norant to those partially bereft of their senses.
About the hour named above, two unfortunate
creatures—Florence Wilson and Alice Oran— i
dwelling upon this street, rushed into the
western district station-house, and informed
Captain Zimmerman that Frank Batty, a I
blind man, was cutting Fanny Cole, the owner
and proprietress of No, 51, to pieces with a
hatchet.
The officers had not proceeded ten yards
from the station-house, when they encountered i
Batty walking toward them, with his head i
down, and a hatchet in his hand, dripping with
blood. The sergeant stepped up behind him, 1
and seized him round the waist—not, however, 1
before Batty was enabled to make some play j
with his terrible weapon, and to slightly wound
Officer Gibson in the hand. He was rushed j
into the station-house, and a struggle ensued
for the possession of the weapon. As soon as
Batty discovered that he was in the hands of i
the police, be surrendered the hatchet, and i
stated that he had come to give himself up
that he had killed Fanny Cole that she had
gotten all his money, and that now he had his
revenge and was satisfied. The officers imme
diately repaired to the scene of the tragedy,
and there a spectacle was presented which de- j
fies description.
Fanny Cole, or Mrs. Bandall, as wo believe i
she is now, was found upon the floor in the 1
front basement or dining-room, in a pool of J
blood several yards in circumference, with the
back part of her head absolutely gashed off,
and the brain protruding. Her throat was
gashed open from behind the left ear to the
windpipe. The wound was probably six inches i
in length, and fully a half inch in depth." Her i
left hand was almost compjetely severed from
her wrist, and the first finger on her right
hand badly cut. In the pool of blood were 1
scattered small particles and slabs of skull.
Dr. G. G. Brewer was soon in attendance, and
examined the wounds. He pronounced them
necessarily fatal, and beyond bandaging the i
hand of the poor woman, and washing off the
blood, deemed any further surgery, such as
taking up the arteries or applying remedies, as
entirely useless, and only calculated to increase
the sufferings ot the victim. She was removed
to an upper room, and placed upon a bed,
whore she was made as comfortable as circum
stances would permit.
Frank Batty is a blind man, about twenty
two years of age, and is well known to the
frequenters pf the I.pxiugtop market, He had
r a stand near the corner of Paca and Lexing-
I ton street, between the two market-houses,
where he was in the habit of vending soap,
blacking, shoe-strings, and other nick-nacks.
Ho has been in the habit of visiting the house
i of Fanny Cole. He repaired thither yesterday
morning, before breakfast, and spent the whole
day in the house, taking brenkfabt, dinner, and
supper.
After supper, he walked into the yard, and
probably unearthed the hatchet from its hiding
place, he had put it in the morning, as
it w«s a new implement, and not recognized as
belonging on the premises. He came back to
the supper room, and leaned upon the mantel.
Suddenly he threw his arm around Fanny
Cole. She drew away from him, and told him
to let her alone, whereupon he struck her a
blow with the hatchet, which severed a portion
of the scalp and occipital bone from her head.
Afterward all is conjecture, as those present—
the two girls above named and a German
cook named Louisa Krider—were too terrified
to give any connected account. Louisa says
she saw the hatchet flying, and rushed to stop
it, when she received several cuts about the
hand and arm. The probability is that Fanny
Cole threw her hand up to avert the blow, and
in so doing received the cut which severed her
hand at the wrist. In this way she probably
received the cut on her finger. The next
blow she received upon the back of her neck
and throat, and fell to the floor covered with
blood. The wretch, finding that he had accom
plished his work, then left for the station
house, brandishing the hatchet in his hands.
The hatchet, when taken from him, was covered
with blood, midway the handle, and some of
the hair of the poor woman was still sticking
on the blade.
THY SHELTERING ARMS.
By Louise Malcom Stenton.
Fold thy sheltering arms around me 1
Let me nestle to thy side,
Full as tenderly, and trustingly,
As when I was first a bride 1
Fo'd thy sheltering arms around me 1
Let me lean upon thy breast
With the gentle, loving, fearless faith
01 a birdling in its nest 1
Fold thy sheltering arms about me,
Full of yeanling love and truth;
For life seems dark and drear without thee,
And thy rosy dreams of youth.
Fold tby sheltering arms about me;
Let me on thy warm heart rest.
And let its ry thmic, loving throbbinga.
Give my life its all of zest.
Fold thy sheltering arms about me I
Ere I softly sink to sleep,
That I may never, never doubt thee,
Or for thy falseness, even weep I
win ,i ararews
A Lesson in Geography. —ln a late
report of the Secretary of the' St. Louie Newsboys’
Home, is the following: During one of their class
lessons in geography, each lad in his turn was re
quired to give the name of three European countries
until all had been named. The first boy responded
by saying England, Ireland, and Scotland; the second
.ollowed with France, Prussia, and Russia, the next
boy’s gebgraphical knowledge was evidently limited,
for he gave in perfect seriousness “Carondelet,
Kirkwood, and Chicago," although with a half doubt
ful air.
“No, no," said the class master of the evening,
“name threj of the countries in Europe."
The boy looked at the floor, and then at the ceil
ing in a state of i erpiexity. A boy behind the other
quietly whispers “Hungary, say Hungary."
“No, I shan’t you’re hungary, hungary ain’t no
country.”
Yes it is, yotf numskull, say Hungary."
With this gentle prompting Hungary was said.
Yes; now another."
Prompter behind whispered “Turkey."
“Go on with yer, turkey ain’t no country."
“Yes it is. thickhead, say Turkey."
Turkey was said very doubtfully.
.“Yes, that’s right, Hungary and Turkey; that’s
two; now another, I want you to name three.’’
Boy gave an appealing look full of confidence to
ins prompter, who whispered “Goose" say Goose.’’
“Goose," shouted the student of geography, as if
he’d known it all his life to be the name of a country
m Europe. Roars of laughter from all present
greeted this answer, much to the confusion of the
student, who finally created a diversion by attempt
.ng to make geographical researches with his fist
about the polar regions of his prompter. In the
midst of contusion the class was therefore brought
io a close, but’“Hungary, Turkey, and Goose” will
be long remembered by many present.
A Mysterious Fortune. Clark
County, Ind., was the scene of the Park family trag
edy, and now there comes from that locality a won
derful story regarding Rev. Rezin Hammond, a Meth
odist preacher, who recently died, at the age of eighty
years. The researches of his administrators and his
heirs prove him to have amassed a fortune of $350,000,
although his salary has always been only from S2OO
to S6OO a year. In making an inventory of his estate
an old trunk was found secreted under the floor of a
closet, which proved to be filled with gold, silver,
and government bonds. It contained $25,000 in spe
cie and SIO,OOO in securities. Deeds were also found
showing extensive ownership of lands bought lonf'
ago for extremely email sums and now very valuable.
Mr. Hammond, it is asserted, gave liberally to de
serving objects, and was not miserly. His wealth
was probably acquired by long and patient waiting,■
persistent accumulation, and closo economy. Mrs.
Hammond, who survives her husband, says that
during the raid of General John Morgan through In
diana, Mr. Hammond drew all his money from the
bank and other sources, and placed it together m this
old trunk, which he secreted where it was found.
She bad supposed, however, that alter the danger
from Morgan and his men had passed, he had again
deposited the money whence it bad been drawn; and
although it was known to her that the trunk was in
the closet, she never dreamed of the immense treas
ure it contained. The money has been deposited in
the Citizens’ National Bank ot Jeffersonville. At the
time of his death, Rev. Mr. Hammond was probably
the wealthiest Methodist minister iu the West, ex
cept perhaps Bishop Ames.
Kaffer Devotion.— Under thishead
ing a correspondent of the London Times sends the
following to that paper: The following act of hero
ism, of which I have just received an account from a
son of mine, officer of engineers stationed at Natal,
appears to me to approach so nearly to sublime, that
I* cannot refrain from communicating it to your
readers. It appears that a few months ago a case of
succession to the chieftainship of a tribe of Kaffers
was decided before the local magistrate at Natal, and
the hearing of the case was attended by numerous
adherents of the rival claimants. The whole account
of the trial and of the demeanor of the Kaffer tribe
on the occasion is very interesting, but with this Ido
not mean to trouble you. After the decision of the
case in favor of one of the claimants, the rival par
ties (to the number of several hundred) returned
homeward) and the beaten party wore suddenly over
taken on their journey by a grass fire, whereby no
less than thirteen of their number were destroyed.
The ydung claimant to the chieftainship would have
shared the same fate had not one of his followers
made him He down on the ground, where, covering
him with his body as a protection against the flames,
he deliberately allowed himself to be burned to
death, and thus sacrificed his life to save that of one
whom he believed to be his legitimate chieftain.
Weil may my son observe in his letter to me, “These
Kaffers, savages though they may be, are in many
respects fine fellows.” One touch of heroism (or of
nature) makes all the human race akin.
Singular Somnambulism. —A party
of friends visited Li Fontaine one evening, and
found him asleep. While talking with his wife, La
Fontaine entered in his nightcap, without shoes or
stockings, just as he had risen, from his bed, His
eyes were half open, but he evidently saw no object.
He crossed the dining room where the party were
sitting, went into a little closet or cabinet that served
him for a study, and shut himself up in the dark.
Some time after he came out, rubbing his hands, and
testifying much satisfaction, but still asleep. He
then went through the dining room, quite uncon
scious of the presence of Any one, and retired to bed.
His wife and friends were very curious to know what
ho had been about in the dark. They all went into
his study, and found there a fable newly written, the
ink being still wet, which brought conviction that he
had written and composed it during his dream. The
admirers of this most original author may wish to
know which fable was composed under these extra
ordinary circumstances. It is one that is replete
with the most natural ahd touching language—it is
that which unites the utmost grace of expression
language is capable of—in a word, it is the celebrated
fable of The Two Pigeons.”
Indian Grave-Making.— Near Tole
do, Ohio, there are small remnants of two Indian
tribes, the Sacs and Foxes—numbering in all, men,
women, and children, perhaps three hundred. They
are very lazy and degraded, and are fast dying out.
This is the manner in which they bury their dead:
A warrior among them, having died, was placed
on a large piece of bark, raised seventy feet high in
an old elm tree, secured by strong things of leather,
and left there for more than two years. A squaw 1
was buried in a sitting posture, the lower part of the
body covered with earth, the head and trunk erect,
and, except a lopping forward and sinking down
ward as the ground settled, the skeleton sat upright
for nearly five years. One of the men buried in the
same manner had his rifle placed at his shoulder,
firmly clasped with both hands, and dismally aimed
by the horrid hunter at blank vacancy, till Nature
dissolved the tendons of the arm, and the weapon
fell lengthwise on the grave. Sometimes they inter
at the unusual depth of ten, and even eleven feet. At
others, the corpse is laid on the surface of the
ground and covered with earth. The graves are
stuck with sticks and piled with poles, and little
white flags flutter from staves set in the ground,
while rags ot various colors cover the branches of
the overhanging trees."
Not a Satisfactory Experiment.—
Here is a bit of grotesque humor from New Orleans:
Mr. Gray discovered a non-explosive illuminating
fluid. To show how safe the new compound was,
he invited a number of his friends to meet him at his
rooms, where he had brought a barrel of the fluid,
which he at once proceeded to stir with a red hoi
poker. As he went through the roof of his house,
accompanied by his friends, he endeavored to ex
plain to his nearest compagnon du voyage that the
particular fluid in the barrel had too much benzine
in it; but the gentleman said ho had an engagement
up higher, and could not wait for the explanation.
Mr. Gray continued his ascent until ha met Mr.
Jones, who informed him that it waa not necessary
for him to go up higher, as everybody was coming
down; so Mr. Gray started back to be with the party.
Mr. Gray’s widow offers for sale the secret for the
manat'acture of the non-explosive fluid at a reduced
rate, as she wishes to raise money enough to buy a
silver-handled coffin, with a gilt plate, for lU© late
Mr. Gray. No cards.
A Cube for Lockjaw. —Dr. Demar
quay has discovered a new method for treating that
species of lockjaw which is caused by wounds. It
possesses this advantage over all other methods that
have been tried, that while they have invariably
failed, it has boon successful in two cases. It ap
pears that the persons attacked by lockjaw are par
ticularly sensitive to cold, which aggravates all their
symptons and greatly increases their sufferings. Ac
cordiiigly Dr, DriWJW M two pallet?.
Sunday Edition. December
one of whom had received a deep wound in the w
ot his leg, while in the other case the lockjawseiMurQ
had followed upon the amputation of a limb, in
room heated at from- sixty-four to seventy-two de®
grees Fahrenheit, where they could perspire freelj
without fear of draughts. The spasms and masculai
contractions which from the chief features in lock*
jaw were relieved by intra-muscular injection of mor
phine, the places selected for these injections being
those where the muscular contractions were the most
painful. The result of this treatment was that th a
patients were soon able to open their mouths and
assuage their terrible thirst, which is one of the
comitants of lockjaw, and ultimately recovered. t
The Scold’s Vocabulary. The
copiousness of the English language yerhaps wafl
never more apparent than in the following
by a lady, of her husband
“He is," says she, “an abhorred, barbarous,
capricious, detestiblo, envious, fastidious,, hard
hearted, illiberal, ill-natured, passionate, quarrel
some, raging, saucy, tantalizing, uncomfortable,
vexatious, abominable, bitter, captious, disagree
able, fierce, grating, gross, hasty, malicious, ne
farious, obstreperous, peevish, restless, savage, tart fl
unpleasant,Jviolent, waspish, worrying, acnminous a
blustering, careless, discontented, iretlui, growling,,
hateful, inattentive, malignant, noisy, odious, per--
verso, rigid, severe, teasing, uncomfortable,,
unsuitable, angry, boisterous, choleric, disgusting,
gruff, hectoring, incorrigible, mischievous, negli
gent, offensive, petting, roaring, sharp, sluggish,
snapping, snarling, sneaking, sour, testy, tiresome,,
tormenting, touchy, arrogant, austere, awkward,
boorish, brawling, brutal, bullying, churlish, clam
orous, crabbed, cross, currish, dismal, drowsy, dull.,
dry, grumbling, horrid, huffish, insolent, in tract
able, irrascible, ireful, morose, murmuring, opinion
ated, petuladt, plaguey, rough, rude, raggy, spitefu’ fl
splemtic, stern, stubborn, stupid, sulky, sullen,
surly, suspicious, turbulent, treacherous, trouble
some,} tyrannical, virulent, wrangling, ye.ping doer,
in a manger."
A Salt Mountain. —The famous salt,
mountain of Palestine, called by the natives Jebel
Usdum, is a singular formation, being a solid mass
ot rock salt, of a greenish white transparency, very
much the color of a shallow sea, covered at the top
with a loose crust of gravel, flints, plaster of Paris.,
and chalky marl. The mountain runs north-east
and soutii-west. It is about seven miles long and
one and a half wide. In its highest points it is near®
ly five hundred feet high. Around the base of the
mountain the ground is full of dangerous hollows,
into which animals often, and sometimes men, fall,,
and sink out of sight. Little streams of water are
constantly trickling, even in the dry season, from
underneath the salt mountain, and running into
sea. A correspondent writing from there says ha
never tasted anything so salty in all his life; salt it
self, in the lump, is not so salty. Only a little way
easx—about ten miles—are rich fields of sugar cane 0
indigo, wheat, barley, and oats.
Adroitly Hit. —A presiding elder
of the United Brethren Church, while preaching,
was much annoyed by persons talking and
He paused, looked at the disturbers and said: “Il
am always afraid to reprove persons who miSbehavo
in church. In the early part of my ministry, I made
a great mistake. As 1 was preaching, a young man
who sat just before me, was constantly laughing,
ta’king and making uncouth grimaces. I paused
and administered a severe rebuke. After tho close
of the service one of the official members said to me..
‘Brother you made a great mistake. Ths
young man whom you reproved is an idiot.’ Sine©
that lime I have always been afraid to reprove those
who misbehave in church, lest I should repeat that
mistake’ and reprove another idiot." During the
rest of that service at least, there was very good or
der.
Literal Interpretation —A reli«
giously insane youth, of Dutch parentage, residing
in Sherman, Conn., was found one day h-si; week by
the people with whom he lived hacking vigorously at
his arm with a hatchet. On being remonstrated
with, he desisted, and the wounds were dressed. He
then went to the residence of a neighbor, where he
procured an ax. and, placing one arm upon a block,
severed the hand at a single blow. Some one near
by immediately corded his arm, to stop the bleeding,
and a physician was called, and the wound properly
cared for. Inquiry elicited the fact that he was par
tially insane on religious topics, and every time ha
could procure a Bible he would appear to be much
affected. It is supposed he literally interpreted that
passage rebding to cutting off an offending member.,
He has been removed to tho Insane Asyinm a-t Hart
ford.
Not Very Complimentary —Tha
well known Hegelian jurist, Prof. Gans, one of the
notables of tho liberal school of Berlin, made a jour
ney to Vienna recently. Just before his return, he
said to one clolhod with a higher dignity chat he
wondered because the terrible police had not inter
fered with him, though he had everywhere and
openly expressed himself without reserve. Hi£J
friend thereupon brought him the police register of
strangers staying in Vienna. The book was
and to his great chagrin Gans read: “Edward Gans a
professor from Berlin, arrived on the 12ih of July,
lodges at the Prince William Hotel, visited there and
there, spose as follows," &c. “Harmless babbler—
need not be watched further—cannot possibly do an 3
harm."
A Man Turning to Stone —Tha
Houston County (Minn.) Democrat confirms the
statement that a man at Spring Grove, in that
county, is turning into stone. His name is Harmon
Silverson. He is completely petrified m all his
limbs and body—the only exception being a portion
about the mouth, throat, aud eyes. He has a good
appetite, eats, and prays day and night for the Lord
to deliver him from this terrible affliction. He is
perfectly helpless. The process of petrification
commenced some time last Spring, in his foot and
knees, since which tiine ft has gradually increased.
Something to Gladden Antiquari
ans.—A vase, drawn by a fisherman from the Seine,
covered with sand and shells, so as to hide iuS form,
was recently sold to an antiquarian. On cleaning it,
he discovered a vase of the purest style, egg-shaped,
and wonderfully carved. Tho metal of which it ie
composdd is unlike any known, but the an tiquarian
says it is “bronze of Corinth," and Seneza says of it
that it is sold for four times its weight in gold. Six
kinds of metal are employedin its composition—.
gold, silver, brass, lead, iron, and tin; but the exact
quantities arc unknown. It probably goes back tG
Cesar’s epoch.
HEROD’S VINDICATION.
A BISTINGLISWriW INDIVIDUAL OI«
VERSES I’OA CSLiLBBIiN.
To the closing hours of a year which is likely
to bo ever memorable for tho disasters it has
brought to mankind, even literature must,
needs add a final aggravation, in the way oi
divers volumes of verses for children tha
same, in an incredible spirit of sardonic male?,
oknee, being so timed by publishers’ an
nouncements, as to overtake and devastate the
innocents about Christmas. It is too late now
to avert this truly Herodian visitation, since
that usually comic department of the news
paper press called “Book Notices” is already
dismal with critical recognition of the earliei
evils of the series; but there are still many
middle aged unmarried people in tho world!
who persist in the belief that the odium com
monly lavished upon tho memory of King
Herod is the foulest of all historical wrongs,
and for them the gathering literary slaughter
of infancy will, it is to be feared, prove a causa
of unnatural congratulation. They have thole
own disingenuous school of realistic infant
poetry, in vindication alike of the original He
rod aiid of all his later imitators who copy his
policy poetically; and to illustrate their Bids
of the question, it may seem but fair to.revive
here m print a few of the old time pre-Herodian
stanzas, with such recent American additions
as the ordinary native system of parental diso
c-ipline casually suggests. For instance, bora
is what the Herodians give as one of infancy’s
most frequent episodes in city travel:
Pet in the horse cars is never afeard.
Pet pulls a handful trem gentleman'a beard.
Pet throws the gentleman's watch on the floor;
When Pet is older he’ll do so no more.
The fond motherly indulgence so artlessly
aggravating in that”version of baby fingers,
waxen touches,” is not allowed, however, to
pass wholly as exclusively distinctive of pure
maternal devotion for the same mildly tolera
tive spirit may be shown even at the fatal ex
pense of baby
Baby sat in the window seat,
Mery shoved It into the street;
Baby’s brains were knocked out In the airy,
Aud mother hold up her forefinger to Mary.
What could be more outrageously ungener.
ous to a supposably chronic case of feminina
domestic amiability than that last admonitory
Hue But gallantry is a quality quite unknown
to the malignant Herodians, and to expect
from them the slightest earthly sign of it is ta
be stupendously disappointed. Even the tem
perately reproving male"parent is exhibited as
not sufficiently decided in his paternal disci,
pline
Sammy ho got a lucifer match,
He stuck it alight in a farmer’s thatch;
The farmhouse io the ground was brought—
Oh, Sam I” said his lather, you didn’t ought I”
which, of course, is intended to signify that
one of the holiest feelings of man’s nature is,
by its very holiness, partially insensible to the
value of another man’s property. And here,,
with a really Mephistophiiean rancor, mamma,
and papa are arrayed against each other eves
the playful little one
Bressum steals Poppy’s best razor upstair,
Aud makes It a hatchet to out up aohair;
Poppy from eating bis dinner oomes running—
He shouldn't blame Bressum for being so cunning f
As for tho license required by and meekly
conceded to baby in the matter of imposing
upon the other children in the house, it is thus
cold-bloodedly exemplified;
Billy Bolalne he jumped out ot bls bod,
He rushed at bls sister and cut oil her bead,
This gave his mother a great deal of paiu;
Let us hope little Billy won't do it again.
And the next is still more artlessly upon ths.
subject of dignified maternal regret at differ
ences between darlings
Where is your brother, Margaret, tell
Ma, I pushed him into the weil.”
Very cross of you, Margaret, clearly;
I thought you loved your brother dearly.
The extraordinary circumstance of a mother’s
patience almost failing her at last, when, after
a few feats of outrage freely alloffefl l baby wUI
cry still, is thus represented i
Darling calls grandma horrible names,
Darling stick carving-knives into poor James;
Darling can’t have any dessert, that’s clear,
Unless she screams loud when there’s company hero, 1
Generally, however, the maternal power of
forbearance is shown as inexhaustible, savff
whan the household idol is ia some imminent,
peril as this 1
“Oh look! if you please! Master Jonathan
He’s bitten a piece right out of my arm I"
“Oh, dearl” cried the mother, in accents wild,
I hope it won’t disagree with the child I”
The rancor of middle-aged pro-Herodianis®
can go no further than that; and additional
quotations are not requsite to prove that tha
coming holiday infliction of verses “for chil»
dren” will provoke many an ;nt9)«rftUt “SCTf
’em right 1”