Newspaper of The Democratic Advocate, May 10, 1873, Page 1

Newspaper of The Democratic Advocate dated May 10, 1873 Page 1
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$2 PER ANNUM JJoctri). UNFINISHED. A baby’s boot, ami a skein of wool. Faded and soiled and hoA : Odd things, you say, no doubt you To right. Hound a seaman’s neck, this stormy night. Up in the yards aloft. Most like it’s folly; but, mate, look here : I When first I went to ncu. A woman stood on yon far-off strand. With a wedding-ring on the small soft hand, Which clung so close to me. My wife—God bless her! The day before, She sat beside' my foot; And the sunlight kissed her yellow hair. ,And the dainty fingers, deft and fair, Knitted a baby's hoot. The voyage was over: I came ashore : What, think you, found I there? A grave the daisies had sprinkled white, A cottage empty and dark ns night. And this beside the chair: The little boot, *twas unfinished still: The tangled skein lay near; Hut the knitter had gone away to rest. With the babe asleep on her quiet breast, Down in the churchyard drear. popular &nlcfi. A BACHELOR’S STORY. lam an old bachelor. At sixty-five I can nay I ahull never be anything edae; hut, like all other men—all T have over met, at ; leant —I have loved, and hoped to be happy with my choaen bride. That passion. and those hopes, faded forty years ago. Since then 1 have done penance fur the hasty act of one night. I have shunned the society of woman, and forbade myself the shadow of a hope that I might patch my shattered joys with new ones. To none who knew me have I ever told the tale. I should have been esteemed false, or a madman, and no one would willingly accept such a reputation. To you, unknown reader, I dare recite the events of those four and twenty hours— events which turned my life into its now well-worn channel, and made me the lonely, hopeless man I am. At the age of twenty-four I was clerk in the establishment of Messrs. Carp k Cavil, lawyers. 1 had energy and ambition, health and opportunity—everything, in fact, that could Im* wished for by a man who hoped to tight his way up in the world and win wealth and reputation. I was engaged to a young lady by the name of Grace Hunter, a pretty, delicate creature, so quiet that her |**t name, Snow flake, seemed to be the only one suitable j for her. Her step was noiseless, her move ments soft, her voice sweet and low. She , never herself entertained a large company j by her conversation, nor did any of thorn* things that give a woman a reputation fur brilliancy ; hut her mental powers were 1 very fine, and in a tete-a-tete she was en chanting. A lady to the heart's core, in my eyes, at least, a perfect beauty, she might yet have been forgotten by most men in a room full of giggling, chatting girls. I adored her. I hud felt that her love was a jewel worthy of an emperors wearing, and I scarcely dared to utter the words that told her all I felt. Even now her high bred reserve kept me at a distance. I was proud of her. 1 felt unworthy of her. She was at once the saint whom I revered, and the being whom it was to be my delight to cherish and protect until death should part us. Six months had passed since she had promised to be mine. At the end of six more she was to give me her hand. I had a small salary, but my grandmother had left me a legacy which would enable me to go to house keeping in plain but comforta ble style, and Grace was willing to fight life's battles by my side. Life seemed bright and joyous to me on that night of midwinter, forty years ago, when 1 walked through the city streets with Grace upon my arm, and looking down at her in her white wrappings, with gleams of frosty starlight touching her black hair, wondered if the angels were fairer than she was. We were going to spend the evening at a mutual friend's residence. Then! was to be music and dancing and cards, and a sociable supper. I went because Grace desired to go. Her solo society at her own home was more delightful to me than any other com pany ; hut 1 was young and light of heart, and when I had once entered the lighted parlors 1 did not sit silent in the corner. 1 talked ; I sang; I turned the music for musical ladies ; I walked through the Ijan ciers. At last I found myself flirting with one of the female guests. There are women a man is obliged to flirt with. He does not admire them, re spect them, or love them one whit; ho docs not even desire their society; but he must be more than roan ere he can refuse to re spond to their advances. One of these women, I know now, having played the looker-on for so ninny years, can make any man appear to other women desperately in love with her, while he almost detests her. A woman of that kind was among the company. She had hands that delighted in soft touches of hands masculine; eyes that could cast glances bright and entranc ing. She possessed attraction rather than beauty. What she said was nothing; her conversation had no interest, but I knew that 1 seemed absorbed by her—that I really was absorbed ; in two words, that 1 flirted abominably with her. Grace, meanwhile, sat apart from me. She talked to others in her low, sweet tones. Once she sang a pretty love song. Quite calm and self-possessed, with no ap pearance of noticing my conduct, the thought that it troubled her never occurred to me. 8o that when the evening was over, and we had left the house together, 1 was astonished beyond measure to see an offended look upon her face, and to hoar an offended tone in her voice. I offered §Pb t £lcmocratir AiUumttc. her my arm. She rejected it, replying that 1 the ground was damp, and that her hands j were occupied with her dress, hut I knew j that this was merely an excuse; and not feel-. inp myself in the wrong, and having swal- i lowed more wine than I should, at the \ supper table, 1 prow very angry. “ May I ask what I have done ?” f said, i w You know,” said Grace. *1 know!” 1 repeated. “Nay, I know i nothing of woman's fancies. You must j explain.” “ I scarcely think it worth while,” said she. “If you do not know that you have | done wrong to-night, I really should not care. You have neglected me, and devo ted yourself to that vulgar woman. I heard n lady near me say that you seemed to he * tired of your bargain. Bhe thought that j you were in love with that creature. So j did other people. Under the cireum- I stances, I have a right to feel offended, ! insulted." Perhaps she thought 1 would deny her • charge. Perhaps she expected me to plead for pardon. God knows what pop-1 1 sessed roe, 1 answered only : ' “ May I not talk to a pretty woman be- | cause I hope to marry you some day ?" j 1 “ on were flirting—almost making love j to her,” she replied. j “She is the sort of woman with whom men fall in love," I said ; “ irresistible in her manner, I’ve heard she makes con quests everywhere; 1 don’t doubt it.” Grace looked at me with a stern face— white in the starlight as a marble statue. | “ Other women arc always jealous of such women," I added. 4 ‘ 1 am not jealous of her," she said, “I would not be like her for a kingdom. She is a terrible woman. Hut since you ad mire her so you are free to tell her so after ; you have seen me to my door." j “ Grace!" I said. “ Miss Hunter, if you please. Mr. Ruth- i erford," said she. “We have both made | a little mistake easily rectified ; that is all." I felt, as 1 stood looking at her. that the ! effect of the wine I had drank upon me , was stronger than I had though,t but I gave no heed to the warning of my giddy i head and rapid pulse. “ Just as you please.” I said. “I should j think that a jealous woman would curse j any man’s life. I’ll go now. 1 won’t j trouble you longer. Good-bye." We were not at the door of her home— j we were about half a block from it; but I , turned on my heel then and there, and ' left her. 1 staggered a little as I walked, and 1 was hot and angry. I made my | way home, and without undressing foil j 1 upon my bed and dropped asleep. In two hours I awaked sober. I sat up ; and looked about me. The scenes of the , evening recurred to me vividly. I saw 1 , how blameworthy I had been, and a terri- | I hie grief oppressed me. I put my head . | down upon my hands and burst into bitter | tears. I had lost her, and with her nil that made life precious. Then hope i dawned upon my soul. 1 would write to 1 her; tell her how, unused to Pquor as I > was, the wine had affected me. 1 would tell her that to my sober self there was no r charm in the woman who had seemed to enchant me the evening before. I would draw the comparison I felt so keenly be . tween her pure self and that bold-eyed 1 flirt. 1 would pray forgiveness and she would forgive me. Springing to my feet I rushed to my ' desk. I drew from it pen and paper. I wrote a letter overflowing with remorse 1 and tenderness. I read it and re-read it. I Then, leaving it upon the spot where it was written, I stood at the window waiting I for the tardy dawn, very jealous of the > slow hours that kept my missive from roy I darling. i I had put out my caudle when I left my > desk, and the room should have been dark; - but as I turned my head, after a long and t anxious reverie, I saw it was full of a pale j radiance like that of moonlight. It startled * me. Whence did the light come ? Had , i a miracle occurred—had the moon risen *! again ? : Suddenly, amid the silver}’ light ap- peared a still whiter radiance. It slowly r took form. A female figure, in white > garments so bright that they dazzled the eyes, stood bending over my letter. t 1 remained motionless—to speak or stir > was not in roy power—and gazed on the i strange object with terrified intensity. * The figure seemed to turn the pages of my letter with it* transparent baud. 1 heard * a gentle sigh ; then the head turned to - ward me, and I saw u face I knew —the , face that seemed the loveliest of all on 1 earth to me, endowed with a mysterious divine beauty for which no man could find r words —the glorified face of sweet Grace ■ Hunter. At the sight I burst the bonds which held me —bonds as tangible as though I > could have seen them—and rushed for ■ ward. I strove to clasp roy love, or her * shadow, in my arms. A shock such as t one might experience from an electrical - machine flashed through me, and I fell J powerless to the floor. J When I recovered, the day had dawned, f and under the blue morning sky the city i bad awakened; but my day never dawned again. My heart never awoke to life’s s sweetness. I To end the story in a very few words, * Grace Hmiter never reached her home that - night, and never wan heard of again. The i family imagined that she had remained r with her (Viends, and were not anxious f about her. 1 bad loft her within the sight 1 of her own door, and why she did not I reach it I shall never know. But I do know that in some woeful manner she died ■ that night, and that her parting spirit I paused in its flight to bid mo a long fare . | well. I have outlived my youth, and the sus b pic ion that fell upon me and embittered | many years of my existence; but I shall * never outlive my love for Grace Hunter, or my remorse for that night’s woeful ’ work. I shall never outlive the knowledge 1 that in the madness caused by wine and r an evil woman's enchantment, I was the ) cause of my darling's death. WESTMINSTER, MD. SATURDAY. MAY 10, 1873. Select |3octnj. THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS. Oh. wise little birds, how do you know The way to go Southward and northward, to and fro? Far up in the ether piped they ; “We but obey (One who callcth us far away. He calleth and calleth year by year, . Now there, now here ; Ever he maketh the way appear." Dear little birds, He callcth me Who calleth thee; Would that I might as trusting he! patent Skftrh. BLENNERHASSETT. BY JAMES SARTOS. j The life and misfortunes of this man , ■ may at least serve to illustrate the homely ■ old saying, that a fool and his money are j I soon parted. He was the younger son of, l an ancient and somewhat wealthy Irish | ( family, of the county of Kerry ; though he I himself was born in England, while his i parents were visiting a friend in that coun- j try, in 1705. After attending the usual i period at Westminster school, in London, I and at Trinity college, Dublin, he was put ! to the study of the law, and in 1790, when j he was twenty-five years of age, he was i admitted to the Irish bar, as a barrister. * He never practised his profession; for | he had no sooner completed his legal stud- ' ies than the death of his elder brother made | him the heir to the family estates. In- < stead, therefore, of settling down to a life- j time of honorable labor, he put money in : his purse, and started to make the tour of ! Europe. He happened to arrive at Paris I about the time when the French |>coplc were in the early delirium of their revolu tion, and he was present at the first annual | celebration of the destruction of the Bas • tile, when five hundred thousand French : men, assembled in one vast amphitheatre, j took the oath of fidelity to the Nation, to | I the Constitution, and to the King. He I returned to Ireland full of those dreams i and fancies which characterized the light- J headed liberal of the period. He was a j republican ; and. seeing no prospect of the | emancipation of his native land, he deter ■ mined to sell off his estates, and remove to the republic on the other side of the At ! lantie, over which General Washington | whs presiding with so much eclat and dig j nity. His Irish property yielded him I twenty thousand pounds ; which, small as I it sounds to our ours. was. for that day. a really handsome fortune. It was probably ! equivalent, in purchasing power and in the j importance it gave to its possessor, to more , than a quarter of a million of our present dollars. While making his arrangements to re move, he fell in love with a young lady, Miss Agnew, the child of a distinguished military family. Bhe was of a romantic turn of mind, and thought it delightful to • marry an Irish republican whose sister was 1 an Irish peeress, and to emigrate with him to the wilderness of America. On the first of August, 179(1, when Blenerhassett was thirty-one years of #ge, they landed at N. York ; where, it seems, the mosquitos attacked them with such unrelenting per tinacity, that they were glad to go into the country for a few weeks until the hot > weather was over. His first letter from New York gives a - curious account of the fury of speculation ; then prevailing among business men ; which 1 he thought was the cause of the extrava gant prices of every thing and the high rate of wages. Men sonants, he said, re ceived twelve dollars a month, mechanics ; sixteen shillings a day, and a good house 1 was two hundred pounds a year. There • was a perfect mania for speculation in real 1 estate —fortunes made and lost every day > by buying and selling lots and lands. He saw almost everything in a favorable light. Witness his description of Newark, nine miles from the city of New York : r “Newark is perhaps the handsomest • village in the world. Of extent, nearly ■ three miles* it is seated in a plain, clear and level as a parlor floor, on the hanks of * the Passaic, in an amphitheatre environed i by gently swelling hills. Its academy, . court house, and two neat buildings for public worship, added to nine stages, which, 1 besides an infinity of wagons, every day ■ pass through it between New York and : Philadelphia, give an air of business and i gayety to the place. It is also the rcsi i dencc of many private families of respec- I lability." ! It is only very old inhabitants of New ark, which is now grown to a great roanu i factoring city of one hundred thousand [ inhabitants, who will realize the truth of ■ Bienncrhassett s picture, r Our romantic adventurers were bound i westward—for the far west —which was 1 then the shores of the Ohio river, between I Pittsburgh and the site of Cincinnati. The next winter found them at Marietta, , in Ohio, whence he made excursions into j the universal wilderness in quest of suita- I blc land upon which to establish himself, i Near the village is an eminence of some elevation, from the summit of which au , extensive view is afforded of the river and i the surrounding country. No site could * have been more inconvenient; but, as in 1 the old world many a picturesque height * was crowned by a picturesque castle, the I relic of barbarous times, the Blenncrhas t setts thought it would be a fine thing to ) place upon this height the mansion they } intended to build. Abandoning this ab l surdity, they plunged into another still more ridiculous. Near Marietta,, there is a low island in * th© Ohio river, about three miles long, and 1 perhaps one hundred yards wide. It lies 1 flat upon the surface of the water, bending * with the bond of the stream, like a long green snake, the lofty banks of the Ohio j hemming it in on every side, like two . ranges of wood-covered mountains. The river is so narrow there, that a roan upon the shore of the island, and one standing upon the main land, ean converse together without any great inconvenience. It wait upon this inland that Bleniicrbassclt bought a farm of one hundred and aoventy acre*, for four thousand five hundred dollars, and look up hi* abode upon it in a small block houae, with hia pretty and romantic young wife. Ho proceeded forthwith to erect a i curioua and remarkably ugly houae, with I barns, niit-houaea, and various other strnc turca, at a coat of thirty thousand dollars; mi that by the time hia house waa finished and furnished, he had expended about half his capital. From the picture of this house which is now before me, 1 should suppose it a miracle of inconvenience and absurdi ty ; and, so far from having an elegant sp (■earanec, it resembles nothing so much as those temporary wooden barracks, which are sometimes erected, in time of peace, ! outside of fortified places. What next ? If his house was uncom fortable and inelegant, his establishment was largo and expensive ; and he was no mure capable of extracting a livelihood from his farm than a child. A child in deed he was in every thing but years. He tried to experiment in chemistry ; he played j the violin; he bought electrical apparatus; |he collected books; and ho even tried, i short-sighted as he was, to shoot game. In I this last amusement he was assisted fre -1 qucntly by his wife, who aimed the gun at the bird, and told him when to fire. ! He was so much afraid of lightning, that when a thunderstorm was coming up, he I would shut the doors and windows, and get ' into bed. In short, he was one of the most foolish, incompetent, unpractical men that ' ever squandered n fortune and brought a family to beggary. And his wife, in her way, was not much wiser than himself, although abundantly competent, if she hail remained at home, to shine in the sphere in which she was born. So passed eight years. In 1805, Aaron Burr set on foot his famous expedition for the conquest of Mexico, and on his way to ] the west to make preparations and to beat up recruits, he became acquainted with | the BlenQcrhnssctts. Already they were I I embarrassed for money, and were more i j anxious to sell their estate than they had ever I ►ecu to acquire it. Burr offered him ija share in his dazzling enterprise; and 1 1 probably conveyed, in some way, to the | ■ ! eager and credulous Irishman, that when i 1 1 the prize had been won, it was he who I ■ should represent the empire of Aaron I. at i the Court of St. James. So far as we ■ know. Burr practiced no deception upon i him; for if there was a man in the world I who more entirely believed in the feasibil i ity of his Mexican enterprise than any • other man, it was Aaron Burr himself. i! Before the scheme was well organized, ► j as all the world knuiws, President Jeffer t [ son shattered it to pieces with a bolt no j more formidable than a proclamation. ■ Burr was arrested and taken to Richmond , for trial.. Blenncrhassctt, charged with 1 complicity with him, was also conveyed to t Richmond a prisoner. His island was i overrun by wild Ohio militia; hia gardens j trampled into rain; his out-house dcs i troyed ; and his mansion defaced. After ! a detention in Richmond of many tedious I and expensive months, ho waa discharged, 1 and rejoined his family at Natchez. i He then gathered the remains of his ■ property, and bought a cotton plantation • of a thousand acres in Mississippi; and t upon it he placed a few slaves. An able man could have made a fortune upon that i virgin soil, in that early day of the cotton i culture ; as, indeed, many of his neighbors i did, who had never seen an electrical ■ machine and knew not a note of music, i It was Mrs. Blenncrhassctt who managed the plantation, so far as it was managed, t It was she who, at the dawn, mounted her i horse and saw that the labors of the day i were begun. Her exertions, however, I were not adequate to the situation, and the • straggle was unsuccessful. His creditors ■ being clamorous, he offered his plantation and twenty-two negtocs for sale, after he had held them about seven years, they realised enough to pay his debts, and leave I a small sum over for Investment. ’ In 1819, being fifty-four years, of age, r but more worn by misfortunes than years, f he removed to Montreal, took a partner, I and tried to get into the practice of the , law. The attempt not succeeding, he r sailed for Ireland, where he made a futile , attempt to recover some estate to which he r fancied he had a legal title. Then he 1 directed his energies to getting a place 1 under government. Some of his old - \\ cstiuinslcr school-fellows were now min - inters, generals, lords and dukes, and to them he addressed letters asking their iu ■ terest in promoting his object; to which - they uniformly sent polite replies of re -1 fusal. In 1826, he returned to Canada, f but only to close up hia affairs in Ameri ca, and, taking with him his wife and I children, leave forever a continent in ) which he had experienced little but un i happiness. A maiden sister who lived in . Kngland had offered him a share of her , cottage, which was not very spacious, and ► a subsistence upon her income, which was - not very large. In this last refuge he i lived six years, and there he died, in 1831, ► in bis sixty-third year. i In after yean, Mrs. Blenncrhassctt, I with an invalid son. and herself almost I exhausted with anxiety and toil, came to ■ New York and asked Congress to make I good to her the damage done to her island ► abode by troops in the employment of the - United Slates in 180 ti. Mr. Clay for ) Warded her memorial to the Senate. I “Mrs. Blennerhasaett,” he wrote, “is - now in New York, residing in very Imm- I hie circumstances, bestowing her cares on a son, who, bjr long poverty and sickness,

is reduced to utter imbecility, both ofbody 1 and mind; unable to assist her, nr provide s for hia own want*. In her present dost!- I tutc situation, the smallest amount of ; relief would be thankftilly received by her. Her condition is one of absolute scant. and a she has but a short time left to enjoy any e better fortune in this world." lt is supposed that an appropriation for her relief would have boon made if she had I lived long enough for the tardy action of | Congress. She died in 1843, in a mean n abode in the city of New Fork, attended in her last moment* by Sisters of Charity. u Her son survived her eleven years, during j ( which he was utterly unable to help him- self, and would have starved to death but n for the charity of a few persons who knew his situation, and knew, too, the melancholy tale of his family's ruin. Occasionally a R jiamgraph in a newspaper would make known his wants to the public, when small j sums would be scut in for his benefit. 1 was myself a bearer to him of one of these o newspaper collections, amounting to twenty- ( | fire dollars, a few months before hia death in 1854. He sat silent in a miserable t ] room near St. John's square—an' elderly . gentleman in an extremely shabby suit of n black, with a pallid, expressionless face. I explained to him the object of my visit t | and handed him the money. He gaxed . vacantly at it, but did not hold out his !' hand to take it, and evidently had not |. understood a word that I had said. I . therefore laid the money upon an old chest, and went in neareh of some one who mold be supposed to have charge of t him. I believe I found some such person o at length, and succeeded in leaving the money so that it would be expended for j. his benefit. r The Coming Transit of Venus. > Most educated persons know that trail sits of Venus occur very seldom, and that they afford, somehow, the means of solving j what great authorities deem the noblest ( problem of astronomy, and of measuring the distances, dimensions, and weights of ( all the host of heaven beyond the moon, s so far as they are measured at all. of which ( the more distant stars arc not by any ( means yet known. The observations of a j transit have to be made in pairs at fardis* ( taut places to be of any use, and a good \ many such pairs must be provided for, in j case any of them should fail through j ; cloudiness or accident. The business, j therefore, is one which States alone can undertake, and probably all the civilised , nations of the world will take their share j in it. There arc special reasons for anxiety | that there should bo no miscarriage on the | next occasion, Dec. 1874, because it is j certain that there was one on the last, in | 176 ft, and an almost entire failure in 1701; so that the diameters and distances of all , the heavenly bodies were overrated for j nearly a century. ( The iioudon Time* says:—- The first , British position is Alexandria. The French station themselves at Sues; and the Rus- , sian Academy supported by the usual mu* , nificence of the Imperial Government when , any worthy scientific object is to be at- , mined, and providing for upwards of 20 , 1 stations between Karaschutka and the Eux- j ine, will push observing parties in the \ 1 same direction, and occupy stations at < 1 Tiflis and neaf the foot of Ararat. , ' “ The second British station is on the { ' island of Rodriguez. The French proceed ] 1 to St. Denis de la Reunion ; while the Ger- ( mans have fixed upon the Mauritius, and | Lord Lindsay, with a scientific spirit , 1 which cannot fail to secure to his Lord ship lasting honor, is preparing an admi- j rably-ecpiipped expedition for the same | 1 destination. ( “ The third British station is Kerguelen's I - Island. The Germans proceed there, pos sibly, also, making an attempt to effect a j suitable landing on Macdonald Island. , “ The fourth special station proposed by 1 Sir George Airy is Auckland, New Zea- , ' land. The French Institute places a party on their nearest possession. New , Caledonia. “ Our fifth possession is at Woshoo, in j the Sandwich Islands. The French pro cecd to Honolulu, and the Americans, who ' confine their attention to stations on the ; Pacific, will be in the same region.” ( 1 A correspondent of Anthony 9 Photo- 1 yrajthic Bulletin , writing from London, 1 says: j “By the indulgence of Mr. Dallmeyer I ; received special permission to visit that 1 part of his capacious works occupied now for finishing contract orders required by the British and continental governments. I saw the instruments, “ Photo-heliographs,” < intended for the forthcoming transit of Venus. The heliograph is a telescope 1 mounted for photography, and is about 1 eight feet long, having an object glass of 1 four inches diameter and five feet focal j length. At the focus is placed an instan taneous shutter, acting with a quick, sharp rhek, as you will often hear in a telegraph office. Through this shutter is an aperture 1 which, by the simple turn of a screw, is increased or diminished at will. For sun ’ pictures it is fixed at .02 of an inch, or to 1 express it more intelligibly, the opening is as near as possible the size of a pencil mark , an inch and a quarter long. Behind this , shutter is placed a combination of lenses , corrected for the chemical ray*, and the | image passing through is enlarged to four ( inches. The size of the plates used is six inches square. “ "The heliograph is mounted on a very i steady stand of iron made portable, that I is, built up of several pieces, and finely i bolted together when in use, and is what i is known as an ‘equatorial stand." The clock for driving the heliograph is made ’ to reverse, thereby suitable for northern 1 or southern latitudes. As the station for 1 fixing these instruments had not been de- 1 finitely decided, Mr. Dallmeyer made them perfectly universal, each one having a , range of eighty degrees north or south. , The whole instrument weighs about seven | hundred pounds, and coats nearly four hundred pounds, sterling (aay 8,000 dol ’ lars.) The hone government ordered five * of these instrument*; and, beside orders * for India, Russia and other continental P countries, Mr. Dallmeyer has Important , private orders in work for the same object.” 1 The damsel who was accused of break ’ ing a young man's heart, ha* been bound ‘ over in the bonds of matrimony to keep ► the pieces. 1 A Horror of Hie Springtide. The Utica Herald remarks that the an nual ceremony of taking up and whipping and putting down carpets is almuet upon us. It is one of the ills which flesh is heir to, and cannot be avoided. You go home some pleasant spring day, at peace with the world, and find the baby with a clean face, and get your favorite pudding for dinner. Then your wife tell* yon how much younger you are looking, and say* she really hopes she can turn that walking dress she wore last fall, and save the ex pense of a new suit, and then she asks you if you can't just help her about taking up the carpet. The she get* a saucer for the j tacks and stands and holds it, and you get the claw and get down on your knees and begin to help her. You feel quit* econo mical shout the first three tacks, and take them out carefully and put them in the saucer. Your wife is good about hold ing the saucer, and beguiles you with an interesting story about how your neighbor’s little boy is not expected to live till morn-1 ing. Then you come to the tack with a crook ed head and you get the claw under it, and the head comes off, and the leather comes off, and the carpet conies off, and as it won’t do to leave the tack in the floor, because it will tear the carpet when it is put down again, you go to work and skin your knuckle and get a sliver under the thumb nail, and tell your wife to shut up about that everlasting boy, and make up your mind that it doe* not make any dif ference about that tack ; and so you begin on the corner where the carpet is doubled two or three times, and has been nailed down with a single nail. You don’t care a continental about saving the naj), be cause you find that it is nut a good time for the practice of economy ; but you do feel a little hurt when both clauses break off from the claw, and the nail does not budge a peg. Then your manhood asserts itself, and you arise in your might and throw the carpet claw at the dog, and get hold of the carpel with both hands, and the air is full of dust and flying tacks, and there is a fringe of carpet yarn all along by the mopboard. and the baby cries, and the cat goes anywhere—anywhere out of the world, and your wife says you ought to be ashamed of yourself to talk so , but lliat carpet comes up. Then you lift one side of the stove, and your wife tries to get the carpet from un der it, but can't, because you arc standing on it. So you try a new hold, and just after your back breaks the carpet is clear. You are not through yet. Your wife don't tell you any more little stories, but she ) get* your old coat and hangs it ou you. and smothers you with the carpel, and opens the back door and shoves you out, and intimates that the carpet needs whip ping. When you bang the tormenting thing across the clothes-line the wrong way, and get it righted; and have it slide off into the mud, and hang it up again, and get half a pint of dust and three bro ken tacks snapped out of the northwest comer into your mouth by the wind, yon make some observation which you neglect ed to mention while in the house. Then you hunt up a stick and go fur that car pet. The first blow hides the sun and all the fair face of nature behind a cloud of ! dust, and right in the centre of that cloud with the wind square in your face, no matter how you stand, you wield that cud gel both hands arc blistered and the milk of human kindness curdles in your bosom. You can whip the carpet a lunger or shorter period, according to the size of your mad ; it don't make any difference to the carpet, it is just as dusty and fuzzy, and generally as disagreeable after you have whipped it two hours as it was when you commenced. Then you bundle it up, with one comer dragging, and stumble into the house and have more trouble with the stove, and fail to find any way of using the carpet stretcher while you stand on the carpet and fail to find any place to stand off from the carpet, and you get on your knees again, while your wife holds the saucer, and with blind confidence hands you broken tacks, crooked tacks, tacks with no points, tacks with no beads, tacks with no leathers, tacks with the biggest ends at the point. Finally the carpet is down, and the baby comes hack, and the cat comes back, and the dog comes back, and your wife smiles sweetly, and says she is glad the job is off her mind. The roof of Westminster Abbey, in lamdon. long supposed to be of oak, when recently examined as to its soundness and found to be perfect, waa at the same time discovered to be of chestnut. It has stood for eight centuries already. In most quarrels there is fault on both sides. A quarrel may be compared to a spark, which cannot be produced without a flint as well as steel; either of them may hammer on wood forever, but no fire will follow. A San Francisco firm has contracted with parties in Providence, R. .1., for twenty-eight car loads of oysters of various ages which are to be transplanted in Pa cific waters. If we exhaust our income in schemes of ambition, we shall purchase disappoint ment ; if in law, vexation ; if in luxury, disease. It is a source of great comfort to a nun with but a dollar in his pocket to know that, if he cannot invest in fire-twenties, he can in twenty-fives. If a lady is asked how many rings she has, she can say with truth that there’s no end to them. How to scrape an acquaintance—get a situation as an assistant in a Turkish bath. Two captivating hoods —maidenhood and widowhood. He who spends before he thrives will beg before ho thinks. VOL, VIII.-NO. 26. Lott in a Cave. Tlip Hannible, Mo. Courier says: Some j day* afi we mentioned the fact that the mouth of an extensive caae had been nn-! earthed in a atone quarry in South Han nible. Since ita discovery it has been a favorite resort for boys, who have daily made explorations of the vast aubtera nean labyrinth Yesterday, however, an expedition was organised to explore the cave, the adventures of which arc destin ed to give the newly-discovered cavern lo cal fame and history that will nut soon be forgotten. The lads composing the party were five in number, from 12 to 13 veara old. The boys entered the cave about 10 o’- clock yesterday morning, each provided with a small bit of candle two or three i inches long, all burning at once, and the torch light pusesaion marched through the silent depths very gaily and hapily, looking for cariosities and searching for strange scenes. Our heroes had determin ed to make a thorough exploration of the ; unknown cavern, and went on, and on, through the winding rifts and fissures of the rocks until their candles had nearly burned out. and when they attempted to return they found themselves in the con dition of the five foolish virgins, and were left in total darkness to grope and crawl amid mud and dirt, sharp stones and jag ged rocks. None of the parents of the boys missed them until late in the evening, and upon inquiry of some of thier playmates it was ascertained that they had gone into the cave at the hour named, since which time they had not been seen or heard of. About five o'clock last evening the alarm was given that five boys were lost in the cave, and in a short time a large crowd, estima , ted at five hundred to six hundred persons, was gathered about its mouth, among them fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, relations i and friends of the lost children, all in 1 terrible suspense, and she dingmany bitter tears, and their feelings during the long | and painful bouts of search can be better | imagined than here described. . Searching parties were organised to ex | plorc the cavern, and as they would return f with no tidings of the lost ones many t parent's heart were filled with anguish and . all manner of horrid deaths were conjured upon as having befallen the little fellows 1 who were thus buried live. Small persons . were in demand to enter the cave and look . for the lost ones, as owing to the forma t tion of the rifts, it is impassible for a . large person to squeeze through in many t places, and money was freely offered for , volunteers to prosecute the search, as well , as a rewfrd for the one who should bring 1 out the boys. Several parties returned from the cav . era without gaining any trace of the boys, , and the hours of suspense seemed like , days—midnight was approaching, and . still a large crowd stood around the dread opening, and among those present were . many ladies. Candles were furnished in t abundance, while balls of twine were pro i vided and let in through the windings of . the cave to afford a guide for those who , entered to return. Charles McDaniel al . so took in with him. in his first explora ) tion, a paint pot and brush, with which f he marked arrows on the rocks pointing | towards the mouth of the cave. These , precautions enabled those who entered to . easily find the way out. : Shortly after eleven o'clock last night a party of five was organised for the next r effort. They entered and followed up the f twine, six halls of which had been used , in tracing the windings of the cave. Here they discovered the tracks of the lost boys, , who had crawled through a very small ! crevice, Charles McDaniel here took the lead, and after crawling some distance , through a rift just large enough to admit i his body, be called out, when from the , dark, unknown depths beyond, he heard , a faint response, which he said sounded , like the squeak of a mouse. He crawled , on still further and called again, when a , nearer and louder response greeted him ; , again he crawled forward, lighting up the , darkness beyond him with a bull's-eye , light which he carried with him, when he t heard a voice exclaim; “Oh, I see a light." Soon he caught sight of the little fel . lows all huddled together in an opening between two vaui rocks, one under them , and one above, with barely room for them . to even stand on their hands and knees, while in width in most places it was bare ly sufficient to admit of the paasage of 1 one at a time. As he came near them, 1 and the boys caught sight of bis face, Da -1 ns McDaniel exclaimed, “O, thank Qod, ' there is my brother I” and the little fel ! lows shed tears of joy at their deliverance from their long and painful confinement. They were completely exhausted, and when the welcome voice came to their ears through the awful darkness the little fel lows were looking for an open space where they could lie down altogether and take a sleep. Si-Ri Cub* fob Neuralgia.—The Newark Gazette says:—“A friend of ours who suffered horrible pains from nenral -1 gia, hearing of a noted physician in Ger many who invariably cured the disease, crossed the ocean, and visited Germany f for treatment. He was permanently cured . after a short sojourn, and the doctor freely gave him the simple remedy used, which was nothing but poultice and tea made from our common field thistle. The leaves I ore macerated and used on the parts af flicted as a poultice, while a small quantity > of the leaves are boiled down to the pro portion of a quart to a pint, and a small , wineglass of the deooetibn drank before , each meal. Our friend says he has never j known it to fail of giving relief, while in almost every case it has effected a cure. 1 \ • ' I Forest Leaves.—With the forest j leaf, as with the Christian, the glory of I I its coming is eclipsed by the glory of ita departure. — ''.-Sipu- nn 1 The three gauges of railroads —narrow gunge, broad gnage. aud mortgage SET-fl Tha Patrons of Husbandry ; The new political party, the “Patrons of I Husbandry," is attracting much 1 iu *he West, where there are not S few who look upon it a indicating a revolu tion in party politic*, at least in that part of the country. The “Patrons of Hus bandry ■ ’ originated in the conflicts between the agricultural interests and the railways that have been so long carried on in the Western States, especially in Illinois and lowa. The railway freight and passenger charges are a high that the farmer* can get no profit on their crops, and they con sequently organised to cmapel a reduction of these charges This organisation is ia the form of a political society, the separate lodges being called “granges,” and it has spread rapidly through all the Slates of the upper Mississippi valley, whilst the formation of these “granges” ia sbo new reported as far south as Tennessee, Ar kansas, Mississippi and Alabama. As the organisation has grown in number) it has also extended its objects, so that now it embraces not only the design of protection against railway extortion, but also the general protection of all agricultural in terests, in whatever way they may be threatened. Not only farmers, but coun try storekeepers and mechanics, and the numerous other classes who depend upon the agricultural interest for their liveli hood. belong to these “granges.” Although it is barely two years since the first “grange” was organised in lows, the Order now claims to have, 1,800,000 members, and to extend through twenty-two States. If this report of numerical strength be true, such an organization, working with a sin gle purpose, is sure to have vast political influence; and as there are said to be 106,- 000 members in lows, it is not surprising to find that the “Patrons of Husbandry” have placed in the field a candidate for Governor, to be voted for at the next elec tion in that State. In Illinois their num bers are even larger, and they are believed to have controlled the last session of the Legislature through the members they succeeded in electing to that body. In that State leading public men, like Sena tor Ogelaby and £z-Governor Palmer, attend the convention! of the Order, and there has recently been published a letter from Hon. Klihu B. Waabburne, Ameri can Minister to France, in which he an nounces his sympathy with them in their conflicts with the railway monopolies, and sends a donation to one of the “granges" to help them maintain a law suit for tb reduction of freight charges. The politi cians are watching the movements of this new and growing party as anxiously as the railway managers are.— FkiUt. Ledger. Treks and Rainfall.—At a scien tific discussion in England, a gentleman from Santa Crus, West Indies, said that twenty years ago that island was a rich and ever-blooming garden. Foreata adorn ed the hills, trees were clustered freely over the plains, and rains were never want ing for the abundant production. The island is twenty-five miles long, and the 1 soil ia all fertile. Now the bills are bare and the trees of the plain have been mostly cut down. Continuous drouths have desolated one-third of the island, and year by year desolation advances. Soon : the whole island is doomed to become a 1 desert. Official papers agree in attributing this scourge to the reckless waste of tim ■ ber and the neglect to replant the forests. The high Cable Tolls which went into effect Mny 1, and the constant ill-treat ment of the Press by the Cable Company, prompt the N. Y. Journal of Commerce, in an elaborate editoral, to urge the laying of an Ocean Cubic by the American Press. It is also trnthftilly said that the money expended by the two Governments, American and British, would handsomely pay an income opon the necessary invest ment. Decoration Day wax observed ia tha cities of the South, on the 26th ult All the graves of the dead Confederates at Montgomery were garlanded with the rarest spring flower*. It was the same beautiful custom that year by year shows that the memory of those who perished for “ the cause" has been kept green in living hearts. The Hagerstown Tu>iee-a-Week tells s story of Senator Hamilton, to the affect , that while he was talking to his farm manager a short time since, he was at tacked in the rear by an irreverent ram, who knocked him out of time at the first butt. A Philadelphian, named Penistaa, has just drawn a $400,000 prise in the Royal Havana Lottery. He spent $500,000 to get the prise. Quito s speculation. Memorial Dat.—The strewing of flowers over the graves of the departed soldiers of the late war will occur on Fri day, May 30th. It is announced that Frederick Douglass is going to England to deliver n terise of lectures on the condition of the colored , race in America. 1 There will be a total eclipse of the moon, . May 12th, partly visible in this latitude, , between half-past three and half-past four N , o'clock in the morning. ' A Pennsylvania paper says Over a thousand hotels in the State have etoaed since the election an the license question. -about to remove to Baltimore, where he wUI

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