Crawfordsville Review, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 9 May 1857 — Page 1

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"Within, in the wide old kitchcn,

,1,i The old folk sitji the stin,

»i'^ Tbftt

creeps thron£-h

Tho lovo iu her girlhood plighted, UH never grown dim or old.

Thoy sat in pe.ico in tho Kunnliine :-. Till the day "was almost done, 1.1 'f, "And then at its close, an angel

Stole ovor the threshold stone.

''•u ITe folded tboirhands.tfgenther— Ho tonehod their oyelids with balin, i-.. 'And tlioir lnsVbreath floated.outward,

-i.

Likt) tho close of a solemn psalm

•j Jjilio abriilul pair, thov travorsod Tho nhsoeti, mystical road That leads to tlio Beautiful City, ~1,~ Whose "builder and maker is(!oJ."

iJ'erhapS, in that miracle-country, l--.fi They will give hor lost youth back, 'And tlio flowers of the vanished spring-timo_

Will bloom in the spirit's track.

J3&T5

tlio.hheltoing

.One draught from tho living waters !. Jk .. Shall call back, hi" mui.nomrs rrmc r—And clornal yours sliiilViucasurc j:

Tho lovo that outlasted time. ...-

y-'i- *r

,»JRut tl.0 shapes that they u-ft bohiiul them, '•i Tho wrinkles and silver hair--. Made holy to us by the kisses

The iinjrle had printed there—

Wo will liido away 'noatli tho willows, NVhcn the day is low in the we#t, "v? Where tho sunbeams can not find them,

NIT

tho winds disturb their rest.

And wo'Usutler no tell-tul.: tombstone, Willi itsagc and date, to ri.-o O'er the two who wore old no longer,

In the Father's House in the skies.

FIVE HUXDnii!) AMI TWOTY-THItKH DOLLAR •PR125i5 TAH K!-.

[Written expressly for tho

KKVIKW

Ot ,T-vr! »#aU -.U

,ot»

,&££! sM "K is 'I fJO-r ra

•a

•Hiiyliwnffif IN tfeiilteADOW' *j Iat«a£dffln n-Wnn'y rociriow, (iy*G

*0 v|^Hre Wwrfold tfkr green arms round it—

vWt*

Willi its cinibcroiisold aUino cnlntaoys, uAt rlnditbfifhiy roof sloping dowti? f«»•

*-•4' !Ttio.tirc««ftCeirtnrrold Z't i'0.' irti And'tho'winds go chanting throngh them,., A And tii suinbbiiias drop tholr gold. illh Sor-

The cowslips spring 11 tho marshes, Tho ro«a«Wo*m'on tfio hill, And bc#idoth« brook in tho pMtare^ j^j^j •cw« 4» •jhohenJsgo feeding ftt will.

woodbino,

Till tho day is almost done. .-.

•„,Thoir children liavo gone arid loft them jjThoy «it in the tAin alone!

-il

And.tlie old wlfe'ftoars are fuiliiig As abo harks to tho well-known tODO,.

•,i'OtS That won her heart in bor girlhood— That has soothed hor in many a care— ij^^SAnd praises iornow for tho brightness ,,, £y.-j.f, Hor old face usod to wear

."j

f! If 5

V.L. ..8ho thinks again of lier bridalHow, drcssed^n her robe of whi te, fiho Stood by her gay young lover

In tho xnorningi rosy ligU.

:p:

Oh! the morning is rosy as ovor,' Bnttho rose from lior check is iled And tho sunshino still is golden,

S'ji-

Jiut it fulls on a silvered head.

Aad thcgirlhood drcinns, onco vanished, Corno back in her winter time, -T Till hor feeblo pulses tromblo .'J

With tho thrill of spring-timo's prime! it

'And, looking forth from tho window, Rho thinks how tho trees havo grown Binee, clad in her bridal wliitenees,

She crossod tlio old door-stone.

ti -1/J *.' Though dimmed hoi eyes' bright a&urc And dimmed her hair's young gold,

and will posi-

-tivcly uppjar in NO CTIIKK L'ARNN.L

THE ELOPEMENT:

on, INTRIGUES OF A COLLEGE HUCKSTER,

IIV O. I. UAFFE, KSQ._

(CONCLUDED.)

NO lost to every sense of propriety—so mindful of my happiness—so vulgar as to suppose that I would suffer my toilet to become so degraded, as with impunity to' allow the pollution and contamination consequent upon the introduction of that disgusting rosin soap! Oh, Alphonso! I have long chorishcd a love for you which fails not at common obstacles, but this is beyond endurance. Painful as the parting may be, I desire that you leave mc—forever.'"— Then casting the soap haughtily towards Alphonso the enraged yet beautiful creature trod the floor majestically impatient.

The miserable Alphonso stood trembling and fearful as the doomed culprit, when arraigned at tho bar to reccivc the sentence of condemnation. Each sob as it struggled from his bursting bosom told how terrible were his emotions. Tears chased each other in rapid succession down his pale cheek.

Timidly he neared tho haughty Katarina—gently he kneeled before her, tenderly he clasped her soft and delicate hand between his own and gathering courage from desperation amid the bitterness of his weeping, he thus addressed tho firm, undaunted. terrific Katariria. ',v, /•Inexpressibly effulgent creature! Thou whotjostshine upon me, the morning star of my existenoo—whoso Bweet image ever haunts mo, beautifying the shadowy realms of tliat dream-land in which I so love to dwell, hallowing my every waking hour and lending^ to life a bright and heavonly enchantih^fet which nought else can give-— wilt tliou riot'condesccnd to become reconciled to thy bumble slave 0, gigantic.Katarina! Do. but oooo-againemileou rpe and I will hsiten to retrace tho. error qf my w.iy8vM pertauiiB to soap! Ah, Katartaa! to wtevthjr smUe I-will goad the lightning racqsenger straining lte mtnule$t flash .to. the uinM^tensiw—I wiU ing ongioe

tiffitfl

vapory breath shall grow:

uiuHify short with beroriloan exertions—till' its calorific lungs shall eclipse the fierce

heat of './Etna's glowing throat --r till its speed sh^l rival, the coi»"t's wild career tfarpugh the immeasurable regions of space —il will Beek' ever cfime—vSlI brave th'e: terrors of the jroTar. snows—-encounter the fierce simoon's withering br?ath, will search the land of the Orange and Palin, and amid every nation, kindred, tribe and tongne under the broad canopy above us, will I rove, until by my own undivided efforts I shall secure for thee the saponacious treasure thou :so much desirest and for myself one hour to bask in the sunshine'of thy approving, smiles.!'

In the majesty of.his manhood he arose. "In deepest contrition the humbled Katarina knelt in supplication at the feet of the conquering AlphonSo. ^-His appeals^ had Btrtick ia syinpathizing chord her woman's heart and'she 'mcltedjintb tears. {--, ."But forgive me, 0 Alphonso, this one offense," she cried, "and joy shall gild my pathway as I journey the'walks of life, but without thy forgiveness my existence shall become a burden—life, a dreary waste without a flower of hope to brighten or lcnd to it fragrance.''

Alphonso spoke not. Again his cxer tions wore redoubled until his glaring eyes seemed starting from their sockets. A sharp twang struck on his ear! Hope beamed again upon him! A stubborn stitch at length gave way—another almost superhuman effort and Alphonso was free —-leaving in the unrel&xing grasp .of ~the herculean KatnnnC|^^|lnri'of liTs^CQat.^ Quickly gathering, iip tlie almost fatal bar of soap and loosing but a moment in the exact adjustment of his shawl, he gained the silken cord. Hapidly he descended until within a few feet of terra firma, when with an clastic spring, he alighted with a hoart o'er-flowing with gratitude upon the'

SEVENTH CHAPTER.

Earth which was now doubly dear to him, was enveloped in darkness. Fear chained his footsteps—ruin and that dreaded watch dog were alike concealed in the dark and terrible future. Trembling, Alphonso pursued his lonely way. The terrors which surrounded him we have already thrillingly narrated in the first and second chapters of this valuable authentic narrative, where we left Alphonso fear-stricken, swooned, and senseless, upon the cold ground, .amid the gloomy forest which surrounded him.

That fierce storm passed away and anon the stars one by one appeared upon the brow of night, and the soft moonbeams smiled sweetly upon the landsc-apc as if to apologize for the rudeness of the tempest. Alphonso arose in his usual original and eminently graceful manner, and immediately repairing to the elegant apartment in which his couch was located, he divested himself of a majority of his damp, soiled, and mutilated garments, placed the bar of soap carefully in one of his boots which he securely fastened about his neck, and then gently laying his weary form carefullv in the midst of his couch, lie serenely prepared to enjoy somniferous quietude. Fragile Huckster! Delicate Alphonso! sweet be thy dreams—unfathomable thy slumbers. In the f.

EIGHTH CHAPTER

Alphonso arose, refreshed from his slumbers. The scenes of the previous terrible night hung upon his memory but lightly. He pursued his usual avocation with unusual alacrity and made numbers of profitable investments in poultry]

When the gray mists of twilight had begun to deepen into the darkness of maturer night, Alphonso "sat in his easy chair, smoking his pipe of clay." The bright blaze shot cheerily up, sparkling and spreading a genial warmth throughout the apartment. The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. A rap at Alphonso's door called him quickly to his feet. On opening the door an African boy, dressed in the livery of Katarina's family appeared, and bowing lowly informed Alphonso that it was the earnest desire of his mistress that he should visit her immediately at her apartments.

Go slave," said Alphonso, "and inform thy mistress that I shall gaciously visit her ere another half hour shall pass."

The African vanished! ft&lphonso prepared to arrange his toilet, which he succeeded in doing in a remarkably short space of time and without any irioident occurring, worthy of note. Few fleeting moments elapsed ere Alphonso was again found ascending the sUkcn ladder, arid in less time than we could .possibly describe it wjis. again in the embraces of

^'"Abj^KaUnria, .ho gayjl,. ."how^earily '4ho long hours have dragged themselves away since last I tore myself from you."

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J- Ii

Haughtily Alphonso frowned. Y.'fX "At another time Katarina," he said, "we will speak of this. Now, I must begone." fi ifes

!:-k

Suiting the "action "to the word, Alphonso attempted quickly to dart from tlie window by which he liad entered, but failed. Katarina seized him firmly by the skirt of his coat as he passed. He struggled as struggles the tcrror-stricken antelope when the coils .of. the deadly boa are winding their frigid and deathly folds about it. Remarkably prcsistend was that grasp maintained. "Cruel Alphonso! Speak! Say that I am forgiven or years shall not weary me or eternity relax my grasp!"

"Ditto! Oh, Alphonso!" "inornfully ejaculated the~ fair female "but never again shall soap mar. ow pleasures. In the future, love shall illume OUT, pathway, as together we journey down the walks of life. But thy brother,' Alphonso, how can we' meet him—how relieve ourselves of the debt of gratitutde we owe him.

With his usual financiering adroitness, he replied: "Know Katarina that gratitude, at present commands a low price, can in a few hours produce a sufficient quantity to repay Rodregio to the utmost. That obstacle being removed, I now ask, implore, beseech you to .elope With me. Let us law fully complete the union which fate has decreed. My brother, Rodregio, is not that man calculated by'nature as a fitting companion for thee, my jewel. -His mind soars not above ,the flight of a vile chicken, while he who would command thy respect should soar' in the regions of thought with the free and fearless flight of the eagle." "Dear Alphonso," exclaimed Katarina, as she gazed into his heroic face that gleamed with the battle-fire of the warrior, whose quick ear catching the bugle notes, prepares to charge the armed squadrons of an enemy, "tell me, oh, tell me of that strange land thou woulds't conduct me to, in the flight thou proposest?" "Lovely Katarina, if Heaven could fulfill its prayer this hand would lead thee—" "Where!" exclaimed the fearless girl. "To a vale," softly whispered Alphonso, shut out from the rude gaze of hungry creditors by leagues of mountain ocean. There would I build thee a palace with its marble walls surrounded with a bower of coolest foliage, musical with birds, whose songs should syllable thy name. At noon, Katarina, we would sit beneath the arching vines and wonder that earth could be unhappy while the Heaven's still left us youth and love. We'd read no paper except the JReview, that we might smile to think how poorly eloquence of words translate the poetry of hearts like ours. And when night came, we'd choose what star Should be

vour

home when life became im-

hiortal, .while the perfumed light stole through the mists of alabaster lamps and every air was heavy with the sighs of orange groves and music from sweet lutes Dost like the picture, love?". "Ah!" exclaimed Katarina, "how thy words charm me. Like the bee upon the flower would I hang upon the eloquence of thy tongue."

Then gently as an evening zephyr steals about the flower, Alphonso's arm wound round the waist of the gentle Katarina.— Straining, her to his panting heart he cried: "Name thou the hour of our departure! let it not be long distant, for storms may arise and love decay." "Fear not the decay of mj- love, gentle Alphonso, for like truth it is eternal, unchangable. In three months from this good hour, with thee I'll fly. Go where thou wilt—in palace or in hovel, with thee I can brave the storms—with thee enjoy the sunshine of life. Sooner I cannot go." "I am content rejoined Alphonso.— "Promptly at the hour I will await thee. In the meantime, stupendous shall be my transactions in poultry—each hen mother's home shall yield to me their offspring, and pearly treasures and my exertions shall be with an eye single to thy future comfort, be a if iv in a a a

Close we now this scene—sufiicc it to say that the gray of morning lit up the eastern horizon, when with a light heart, Alphonso sought his apartments.

NINTH CHAPTER.

Three months have rolled their weary hours into ocean of the mighty past. It is a dreary March night. The death throes of the fierce long winter, as he clings to his throne and sceptre, are convulsing the world. Gloomily lower the leaden clouds—terribly the hoarse wind howls!— Yet true to her promise, the sylph-like Katarina stands shivering in the rude blast, awaiting the arrival of her adored Alphonso. The hour he had mentioned for their departure had passed, yet he appeared not. Eagerly did she gaze into the darkness striving to catch the shadow of her beloved. "Ah! why is he thus delayed!" she exclaimed and producing from her bosom a golden locket containing his miniature she pressed it fervently to "her lips. "Why is he not true to his promise?" His panting courser passed the city gates ere the sun had climbed to his meridian. "Ah! Alphonso, if thou dids't know with what a pining gaze I fix mine eyes upon thy image here, thou woulds't not tarry longer from thy Katarina's arms. I'll swear that smile a false ^pe, for it sweetly tells no tarrying indifference. Ah, Alphonso, to know thee near me and to behold thee not is sadder than to think thee far away for I would rather that a thousand leagues of mountain ocean should dissever us than thine own heart Alphonso."

A sound fell on her listening ear! It was a well known footstep. A moment intervened and he stood by her side. "Why wast delayed, Alphonso?" "Angel! believe not that my love had grown cold—or that I have wantonly, loiterod.on the way- Ah, no, Katarina—die obdurate heart of my landlady, who long, withstood ''earnest' entreatiesrfor the loan of a paltry sum of gold, is all I can

!~~i~~ -r •:."* ~T .• "-v^

""^ff^ CRAWFORPSYILLE, MONTGOMERY COUNTY, INDIANA, MAY J, 1857.

offer in palliation of my offense. She at last yielded "—and he displayed a huge purse well filled kith lucre. .'''There is.not now .fair. creature,

t)an

away!":

.obstacle. „-.JLet us

i..- :r .Y IsJ'J*"-

Clutching a ponderous carpet-bag in cach hand the fair. Katarina followed closely in the footsteps of Alphonso.. A few moments elapsed ere they arrived at the railway station. A spiteful shriek from the engine— a few spasmodic coughs, and the train bearing its freight of love, moved rapidly off.

At-a distant.city a priest was called into requisition and the twain, made one. Then followed a' A

CONCLUSION.

If at any time, after the next ten years, a reader of this highly interesting and expensive story should feel so interested in the fate of our gallant hero and fair heroine, as to seek their abode, he will perhaps find a cottage embowered in roses on the margin of some beautiful lake, where several prattling Snales like olive branches grow green about their parent stock—and perhaps not.

1 THE MURDERER'S"FATES,, We have before laid the circumstances of the alleged murder, committed by Simon Dillon, before our readers, but now, since the accused has met his fate, they will be perused with new interest, and we briefly state them. Dillon was sixty years of age, was arrested at his residenec in the southern part of this county, a few weeks since, for the murder of his own son,—a lad of some 15 years,—committed ten years ago. About this time, the father gave the boy a severe whipping, after which the boy was missing, and the father reported that he had ran away, aind that- he was in the neighborhood of Fort Wayne, Ind., but all the intelligence of the boy's wherabouts coming through the father, his statements were not generally believed, and during the interim, the citizcns of the neighborhood have looked upon the old man with suspicion. Lately, intelligence was recived from Fort Wayne, that the boy was never known to have been in that vicinity. A search was then made for the remains of the boy, and they were found in the defend: ant's cellar, covered up. After his arrest he was taken before Justice May, examined and acquitted, as we learn, on account of deficiency in the papers— some say, for want of evidence to prove his guilt,—be that as it may, he was acquitted, and since that time has b.cen at liberty yet, bis neighbors were as firmly convinced of his guilt, as before tffe examination. On Saturday last he left Bowling Green in a state of intoxication,—drunkeness, we are told has been a leading trait of his character,—and made, his w*y to his comfortless home, an old dilapidated domicil, in the woods, over which ho has domineered for years, unaccompanied, except by cats, dogs and perchance, his own conscience. Nothing more was known of him, until some of the neighbors, attracted by the glaring flames of the fast decaying structure, reached the scene of conflagration just in time to hear the wretched man's last lamentations, as tliey arose above the sounds of the crackling flames, but alas they came too late!—the devouring elements had the ascendency, and the efforts of man, to check its ravages were in vain. The accused was wrapped in a sheet of flames, confined within a prison whose walls were fire, and which, like an enormous coil of serpents, with its thousand fiery tongues, forbade the approach, and laughed to derision, the feeble attempts of man, to rescue from its fiery folds its hapless victim Thus ends the career on earth of Simon Dillon, the alleged murderer of his own son. Ifhe is guilty, swift-footed justice has overtaken him. Vice, as well as virtue, "is sure of its reward."—Brazil News.

SOMNAMBULISM OF A LADY IN LOVE.—A French journal of Lyons, (The "Salut Publiquc,") tells the following singular story:

A young gentleman of that city was married recently to a lady with whom he had been from childhood very much in love.— Like all family matches in that country, the parents were the principal movers in the matter and the bride would, in any case, mechanically have consented ["taking the bit in her teeth," if at all, after the ceremony, whereas in our country it is before it.] In this case, she simply made no objection, and the enamored husband did all the love making, in hopes of a more flattering return with time and patience.

But time wore on and the honeymoon was over, and there was no sign of a reciprocity of tenderness. Her manner was still, submissive, but cold. His pride for awhile, prevented his confessing it to others, but finding it insupportable at last, he went with his secret to his mother-in-law. Her daughter did not love him!

The mamma quietly opened a choice little ebony box and produced a bundle of letters—love letters, she said they were, and written by his wife! Ready to dash his brains out with the discovery, he sat still for the usual speechless and paralyzed moment, and so gave time for the explanation.

They were addressed to himself! The reserved and timid girl had written them before her marriage, but in fits of somnambulism, to which she was subject. She was herself wholly unaware of the fact.—Her mother had watched her—had carefully taken the letters and preserved them, and there they were—a secret leaf, taken unsuspected from the innermost book of his wife's heart.

But it might not always be quite, safe to somnambulize!

BSg-John Phoenix, in a postscript to his letter from New Orleans in the May number of the Knickerbocker, thus calls the printer's attention to an error in a former epistle:—

To the compositor:—Toung man!' I did not say in my last letter I was going to the' "city of Cain." I don't know where that city is. I am not able to go to the city of Cain. Take your eye, sir, cast it over my MSS. and you will find for Cain, Cairo.

STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS. The New York Tribune,• which has recently affected penitence for its numerous breaches of all decency and propriety in its language to political opponents—lecturing the Herald and Times, both decent journals in the general tone of their ediiorials, for their scurility to one another—having repeated some fOul.abuse which it has delighted for years past to shower upon the distinguished statesman of the West, (of whom all honorable Americans delight to speak in terms of eulogy and pride,) the New York Express replies that the Tri

bune may say of Douglas what its propensity to assail everybody to whom it may be politically opposed in language of blackguardism prompts, but that it cannot change the settled and universal conviction of the people of the country of all parties, that Stephen.

A. Douglas is the great man of the.

country—an honor to the American character and name. This from a bitter political foe, whose doctrines Douglas recently assailed so vigorously in the Senate, in the discussion on the Minnesota Bill, is as creditable to the Express as the language of the Tribune is disgraceful.

Harper's Weekly also has a handsome tribute to Senator Douglas, in which, noticing the candidates for foreign appointments before the present administration, it suggests that Stephen A. Douglas be sent to the Court of St. James, as the best representative of American genius, character and energy, of all our public men. We cannot second the proposition of Harper's, though we'cordially acquiesce in the compliment it pays to the "Little Giant." The country—especially the Great West—cannot, in these momentous and critical times, dispense with the wisdom and manhood which have so long and so efficiently marshalled and led her forces to victory.—Cin. Enquirer, April 22.

A PLEASANT PICTURE.

In the London National Magazine we find a very charming story called Friends till Death. Wc quote a part of it:

Did any mischance in business befall Gilliflower, would he go to his lawyer?— Not he. He would say, "Send for Bards ley." Did Bardslcy fall ill, would he send for the doctor? By no means. He sent for Gilliflower. And so they lived from youth to manhood, and from manhood to old age. I had the honor to be on pretty friendly terms with both of them, (though much their junior), and I may say I grew old in their company. But I was never to Bardslcy what Gilliflower was, nor to Gilliflower what Bardsley was. Far from it. I think I spoilt my claim to their full confidence by letting out early in our acquaintance that I knew something of Greek.

I have wished from the bottom of my heart that Greece and Greek had never existed, or been known, rather than I should have been deprived of the honor of- sitting in the upper and inner chamber of two such hearts. I .would have given all history to be Bardsley, all the glory of antiquity to be Gilliflower Both men remained bachelors to the end of their days.

People often wondered that they did not marry, they being both ardent though respectful admirers of the other sex, and strongly attached to children.

Many a time have I seoasBardsley sitting at his own door, on a'fine summer's evening, playing with some curly-headed boy or rosy-cheeked girl. He would repeat all the stories and rhymes that they delighted and Bardsley's knee was the cockhorse of many and many a journey to the famed cross of Banbury. Nor was that journey ever made in vain for at the end of it there was always a halfpenney or a penncy forthcoming from Bardsley's capacious pocket to reward the youthful rider. And then Bardsley would say, "Now run away to Gilliflawcr's, my dear, and buy yourself some barley sugar." And Gilliflower was known to the rising generation thereabout to give the largest halfpenny worth of barley sugar of any grocer far or near. And so fond were the children of the two old men—I am speaking of their latter days now—that the called them Jiy the name of "uncle."

Many a child of that neighborhood grew up to man's estate, still calling them Uncle Bardsley and Uncle Gilliflower, never doubting but that the two old men were as much their uncles in relationship as they were in kindness and affection. The reader may wonder, therefore, as the neighbors did, why two men so well adapted to the holy state of matrimony had never entered that state. I think I know why they did not. When Bardsley and Gilliflower first became acquainted (as the reader knows how), the latter was beginning to have "serious thoughts" about a certain Jessy Ward, the niece of a well-to-do wax chandler in Toocum street. He had seen Jessy at church on several occasions, and once he had walked home with her and her uncle. Old Ward asked him to tea, and he went and feasted upon Jessey's good looks and winning ways—having no appetite for the muffins—until, on coming away, he felt as if his heart was too big for his bosom.— He could not sleep for several nights afterward, and what seemed to keep him wakeful was the image of sweet Jesy Ward and that strange bigness about the heart.

But shortly after this, Jessy went away to reside with an invalid aunt in the country, and did not come back for nearly a year. In the meantime Bardsley had got acquainted, and become friendly with Gilliflower. When Jessy returned, he thought of going to call at old Ward's, and he mentioned his intention to Gilliflower. What Gilliflower said I don't know but at any rate he didn't go. I am sure that Gilliflower did not discourage him in any way but my opinion is, that Bardsley conceived the idea that Gilliflower was not an advocate for matrimony, so he gave up all thoughts of Jessy Ward. Pardsley, however, was for once mistaken in his estimate of Gilliflower's views. I have reason to know that Gilliflower meditated matrimony at the time that Bardsley did, but that he gave up the idea, fearful lest, by taking a wife, he should lose his friend. And so they remained bachelors for each other's sake to the end. Alas, that the end should ever come to such friendship as theirs.— But it did come.

The winter of life overtook them togetheras they wandered onward hand in hand.

'|:wv rr

Its snows.fell upon them equally, yet gently. No longer able to walk to their,nightly1 resort, they now passed the evening at home, Bardsley going next door to Gilliflower," or Gilliflower going to Bardsley or of a summer's evening they sat side by side at their.doors, faithful to the last to the pipe and flagon of ale. There, as they smoked and chatted, as of old times, the children played round them, like flowrets twinkling about the roots of withered and decaying oaks. But an evening came when Gilliflower was no longer able to toddle out to meet his friend.- Bardsley sat awaiting him, but he came not. Gilliflower's housekeeper came to tell Bardsley that her master was very ill, and that she had helped him up to bed. The flagon of ale remain ed on the bench untasted, the pipes unused, the chairs empty. Gilliflower had smoked his last pipe and drank his last pint.

He grew feebler day by day, and at last his mind wandered. He raved about Bardslcy "Where is Bardsley? 0, will some one send for Bardsley?" Bardsley was there by his side almost day and night, but his friend no longer knew him. I went in by Bardsley's request to do what I could for his poor old friend, and I tried to make him understand that Bardslcy was sitting by him, that it was Bardslcy who was holding his hand. "Go away, go. away," he said, "you are not Bardslcy. What use are you to me?—it is Bardsley I want.— 0, if you will only send for him, I know he will come!" Then he raved about a bill that was coming due to-morrow, and for which he was not prepared. "I must go to Bardsley," he said, "Bardslcy will help me out, I know he will. Give me my hat and stick." "Hush, hush!" I cried, "Bardsley is here. Speak to him, Bardsley, let him hear your voice." The old man called his friend by name. "Gilliflower, Gilliflower, it's me, Gilliflower it's Bardsley, your old friend." "Eh! arc you Bardsley?" he said at length. "Give inc your hand. Ah, yes, it is Bardsley, my old friend, my good friend!"

He sank for a short time into a slumber but when he awoke ho still called for Bardsley. He was with him again, in thought, at the Dragon. "The pot is empty, Bardsley," he said, "shall wc have another, or shall we go home? I'll take alight if you please—no, no, I won't trouble you, my pipe is out we'll go home. Good night, Bardsley, good night I shall see you again to-morrow." As these words were uttered the hands of the two friends wcre'clasped upon the bed. It was the clasp of death! "I shall see you again to-morrow?" That to-morrow soon came. Poor Bardsley went on his earthly pilgrimage for a little while, seeking up and down for his friend Gilliflower. And one winter's night he made a long journey and found him—where there was no more parting.

PROGRESS OF THE AMERICANS. An English journalist, speaking of the unexampled growth of the United States in all the elements of national prosperity, sums up in this wise:

In an interval of a little more than half a century, it appears that this extraordinary people have increased above 500 per cent, in numbers, their national revenue has augmented nearly 700 per cent, while their public expenditures has increased little more than 400 per cent. The prodigious extension of their commerce is indicated by an increase of nearly 500 per cent, in their imports and exports, and 600 per cent, in their shipping. The increased activity of their internal communications is expounded by the number of their post offices, which has been increased more than a hundred fold, the extent of their post roads, which has been increased thirty-six fold, and the cost of their post office, which has been augmented in a seventy-two fold ratio. The augmentation of their machinery of public instruction is indicated by the extent of their public libraries, which have increased in a thirty-two fold ratio, and by the creation of school libraries, amounting to 200,000 volumes. "They have completed a system of canal navigation, which, placed in a continuous line, would extend from London to Calcutta, and a system of railways which, continuously extended, would stretch from London to Van Diemen's Land, and have provided locomotive machinery by which that distant would be traveled over in three weeks, at the cost of l^d per mile. They have created a system of inland navigations, the aggregate tonnage of which is probably not inferior in amount to the collective inland tonnage of all the countries in the world, and they possess many hundreds of river steamers, which impart to the roads of water the marvellous celerity of roads of iron. They have, in time, constructed lines of electricity, which, laid continuously, would extend over a spacc longer by 30,000 miles, than the distance from the north to the south poles, and have provided apparatus of transmission by which, a messenger of 300 words, despatched under such circumstances from the north pole might be delivered in writing at the south pole in one minute, and by which, consequently, an answer of equal length might be sent back to the north pole in an equal interval. These arc social and commercial phenomenas, for which it would be vain to seek a parallel in the past history of the human race."

How COSTLY IT IS.—Some idea of the amount of capital required to publish a newspaper which is widely circulated may be formed from a statement in round numbers of some of the leading expenses of ths Boston Journal establishment for a year past:

For white paper, $70,000 Salaries, kc., $50,000 Telegraphing, $3,000 Printer's Ink, $2,500.

These are four of the leading items of expense in publishing the Journal. If we add to these, rent, fuel, gas, the rencwel of type, depreciation of material, the traveling and other expenses of reporters correspondence and other miscellaneous expenditures, the total will be swelled to between $145,000 and $150,000 per year —an expenditure which, though seemingly enormous, is fully justified by the income.

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FUTURE ol DL^CK REPUBLICANISM. It is now becoming the 'settled conviction of the soberminded men. of this country, that black republicanism is fast hastening "to that bourne from which no travoler returns."

It will soon be numbered among the things that were and are not, and its

tdei(th

will add one iporc laurel to the triumph of democratic principles. But a few months ago it sprang up with tho rapidity of a hotbed growth, was nourished with stimulating and poisonous food, arid is now linking back into a state, of helplessness commensurate with its previous buoyancy. It is in its death struggle, and its writhings are patent to all eyes. The general outburst of indignation amorig the republican press, against the Supreme Court of the land, has done much to present the position, of their party correctly before the country.— All good and honest citizcns have becofbo disgusted with its extremes, with its lawlessness, and a general condemnation is coming upon it. Lately, its leaders have again attempted a renewal of their old tactics, stirring up civil war in Kansas, and although there is great danger of their partial success,* yet, we note many disapprovals of such a course among their own ranks. Lately thc $lew York Herald, endeavored to infuse some vitality into the sinking organization, by calling upon the friends of

Fremont, to buckle on their armor and commence operations with reference to the campaign of 1860—A few faint signs of approval were all that cheered Bennett on in his hopeless enterprise, and now he has dropped the subject. These signs are strong manifestations of which way the wind blows. The people have recovered from the storm of passion into which they were thrown, have resumed the exercise of their sober senses, and the correctness of the democratic cause has already gained many to its support. The nationality of the democratic principles has been iuipressed upon the minds of the people, and the shriek from factious sectionalism, with" all the horrors which this groat leprosy should inspire. Wc mark this result with joy, with pride, with increased faith in the inherent truth and purity of democratic principles.—Evansvillc Enquirer.

LORD PAI.MERSTON ON AMERICAN FORBEARANCE?—On the 28th of March, after the election at Tiverton, in reply to a toast at a banquet, 'to the ministry,' Lord Palmerston made a characteristic speech, from which wc make the following short extract:

We are often told to look to our cousins in the United States as models of conduct, and there arc some things in which they might just as well look to us, but if wc beg of the advocates of peace to address themselves with "eyes bright" to the Uiii-. ted States, pray what did their comr do in this very difficulty in China ." parison with our officers, civil an' Why, there was a boat belonging to their ships of war. fired at. Well, th a great insult, but there might have an excusc made for it that we were engagcd in these hostilities with China, and it might have been said that this American was taken for an English boat. It is true, tho officers in the boat waved the American flag, but the Chinese might have said that is a well known strategy of war, and you wave the American flag, to deceive us wc believe it was an English boat and therefore fired at it. But did the American commander, like Sir Michael Seymour, and Sir John Bowring, demand an apology, and demand that a similar thing should not occur again? Not the least in the world.— He inverted the usual course, which is said to be characteristic of energy—a word and a blow—lie put it thus—a blow and a word. He began to knock down the fort, and after destroying that fort lie sent to tho Commissioncr to say that an insult had been offered to his flag and he hoped for an apology and an assurance to the effect that it would not occur again, and he gave twentyfour hours for this apology and explanation to be sent to him, but before these twentyfouc hours had expired, the ship which was lying near this fort saw something or other going on which the officers shrewdly imagined were for renewed defences, if not for renewed attack. Well, this American officer, without waiting and writing to the United States to know what to do—without waiting for orders from Washington—he did not wait even for the twenty-four hours to expire, but he said, "No, Mr. Chinaman, this won't do, you are throwing up fresh batteries and putting in fresh guns," and he commenced the demolition of the fort and took possession of these guns, before the time had expired which he had given the Chinese Commissioner in order to make his apology and explanation."

TERRIBLE FALL.—While the mail train from Petcrsburgh was crossing the bridge over James river on Friday morning, the

cars received a sudden jerk when about midway across, arid one of the passengers, a gentleman from South Carolina, named Sullivan, who was imprudently standing upon one of the platforms, fell from his position and rolled over the edge of the bridge. He was of course precipitated into the river beneath, a distance of about seventy feet, and it was naturally supposed that he had been instantly killed by striking upon some of the numerous rocks whi^h obstruct the channel of the river but, most wondejful to relate, lie escaped without a broken bone. He miraculously alighted in about six feet water, face upwards, and after floundering about for some time, was rescued by a fisherman who fortunately happened to be visiting some traps in the vicinity. Mr. Suilivan was safely brought to shore near tin steel works, and though his nervous system received a severe shock, it was discovered that he had received no serious external injury by the fall.—Rich. Whig.

The Washington Union says there

is now owing to that paper tho enormous sum of 370,000 for back subscription. It announces that hereafter the business of the establishment will be conducted on strictly cash principles.

All the flat rail originally put down

on the New Albany and Salem Railroad has been taken up and replaced with heavy rail.