Decatur Eagle, Volume 12, Number 48, Decatur, Adams County, 5 March 1869 — Page 1

THE DECATUR EAGLE. PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY A.. J. HILL, EDITOR, t’UBtfSHER AND PROPRIETOR OFFICE —On the west side of Second Street, over Dorwin & Brother’s Drug Store. > Terms of Subscription. One copy, one year, in advance.. $1 50 If paid within the year 2 00 If paid after the year hM expired, 2 50 Papers delivered By barrier 25 cent* additional will be charged. No paper will be discontinued uptil all arrearages are paid, except at the option of the publisher. Rates of Advertising-. L o h" 6 h’ g o’ 5 =* 5 f * 5 .|lg § * » f g ? r g- 3 :■ J_ Half Inch.. 50 1 no 130 250 3.50 5.50 Koo ilna “ 73 1.23 2003 30 4.50 60010 00 >o “ 123 2no 350 300 7001000 17 Oo 'time •• t 75 276 450 6'o 900 11 (X) 22 OO Poor “ 2 2.5 350 550 800 11 00 18 00:27 00 Quar. C 01... 275 423 625 9501300 21 00-32 00 Half “ 425 620 915 14 65118 63 30 00|48 00 3-4 “ 5 75 7 65 12 00 20 8O;24 30 39 00 64 00 One •• SpkciaL Notices. —Fifteen per cent, additional to the above rates. Business Notices. —Twenty-five per cent, additional to the above rates. Legal Advertising. One square [the space of ten lines brevier] one insertion,s2 00 Eeach subsequent insertion 50 No advertisement will be considered less than one square; over one square will be counted and charged as two; over two as three, &c. Local notices fifteen cents a line for each insertion. Religious and Educational notices or advert isements may be contracted for at lower rates, by application at the office. Deaths itnd Marriages published as news—free. JO FHCIAUDIRECTORY. District Officers. . Hon. Rob’t LowryCircuit Judge. J. S. Daily,Circuit Prosecutor. Hon. D. Studabaker Com. Pleas Judge. B. V. Ibacli . Com. Pleas Prosecutor. Gouuty Officers. fteymour Worden .... Auditor. A. J. Hill Clerk. Jesse Niblick4’feasurcr. M. V. B. Simeokeßecorder. James Stoops, Jr. Sheriff. 11. C. Peterson Surveyor. Sam. C. BollmanSchool Examiner. Josiah Crawford, ) Jacob Sarff, L. ..Commissioner. ■George Luckey, I Town Officers. Harrison B. Knoff Clerk. Tobasco Burt Treasurer a Marshall. Herman Bosse, ) David King, > .. . Trusters. David Showers, J Township Officers. Union. —Trustee, J. 11. Blakey; Justice of the Peace, E. B. Looker; Constables, Joseph C. Walters and William Cellars. Root. —Trustee, John Christen; Justices of the Peace, Jeremiah Archbold, Lyman Hart and Henry D. Filling; Cooatables, John Schurger, Martin Lord and Henry Lultmcn. Pkeble. —Trustee, F. W. Gallineyer Justices of the Peace, A. Mangold and John Archbold; Constables, —vacant. Kirkland. —Trustee, Jonathan Bow•cn; Justices of the Peace, 8. 1). Beavers and James 11. Ward; Constable, John T. Baker. Washington. —Trustee, Conrad Brake; Justices of the Peace, J. W. Grim and Samuel Merryman; Constables, Frederick Meiti and Elins Crist. St. MART's.--Trustee, Ed. McLeod; Justices of the Peace, Soinuel Smith, 8. fl. Morris and William Comer; Constables, George W. Tecpie, 8. B. Fordyce and J. W. Andrews. Bluecreek. —Trustee, John Emery; Justice of t)ie Pence, Lemuel Williams; •Constables, William I. Danner and William Danner. Monrok. —Trustee, Thos. Harris; Justics of the Peace, Lorcnxo D. Hughes; Constable, John T. Marts. 'Frkkch. —Trustee, Solomon Shull; Justices of the Ptnce, Lot French and V. D. Bell; Constable, Joshua Sarff. •Hartford. —Trustee, Peter Huffman; Justices nt the Peace, Benj. Runyan and Martin Kiser, sen 4 Constables, David Eckrote and John Simison. WabasHj —Trustee, Henry Miller; Justices of the Peace, A. Studebaker and James Nelson; Constables, Jacob Butcher and A. G. Thompson. J Jkffbrson. —Trustee, Charles Kelly; Justices of the Peace, Justus Kelly and John Fetters; Constables, —vacant. Time of Holding Courts. Circuit Court. —On the third Monday In A-pril. and the first Monday in No-, ve inter, es eaA year. Common Pleas Court.— On the second Monday in January, the aooond Monday in May, and the second Monday in September, of each year. Commissioner's Court. —On the first Monday in March, the first Monday in fuae, the first Monday in September, and the first Meadsy in December, of each year. CHURCH DIRECTORY. St. Mart's (Catholic). —Services evervSabbath at 8 and 10 o’clock, A. M., Bwbath School or instruction in Cateehtsm. at U o’clock, P. Vespers at 2} «*eloet, P. M. Rev. J. Wemhoff, Pastor. MirwonrsT.—Services every Sabbath Kt 10| e'elock, A. M„ and 7 o’clock, P. M. Sabbath School at 9 o’clock, P. M. Rev. D. N. Shackleford, Pastor. Prmbttuiaw.— No Pastor. Prayer Meeting every Sabbath at 1 o'clock, and Sabbath School at 2 o'clock, P. M. » i.. 11 R. S. PETERSON, - Attorney Lrw, DECATUR. INDIANA. KBBOMTT attaatloo paM to *ll bwlooa entnat- 1 »-1 to hf« cars OFf lua-Is D,St»4aba*er't Law 08k*. I’lfcM. 1 —A ■ -» -

The Decatur E agi .e. ' - • - - ■■ - ~:uz ■ - ....

Vol. 12.

ATTORNEYS. * DANIEL D. HELLER, Attorney eat Law, DECATUR, INDIANA. WILL practice his Profession anywhere in lu diana or Ohio. OFFlCE—Oppoaite the Recorder's Office. v!ous2 J A SIE S R? BO 80, Attorney Law, DECATUR, INDIANA. DRAWS Deeds, Mortgages and Contracts. Redeems Land and pays Taxes. OFFlCE—Opposite the Auditor's Office. r!on6. D. STU DA BAKER, Attorney o.t Law, Claim & Real Estate Agent, DECATUR, INDIANA. WILL practice Law in Adame and adjoining Countiow; secure Pensions and other claims against the Gcvernment ; buy and sell Kcal Estate; examine titles and pay taxes, and other business pertaining to Real Estate Agency. lie is also a Notary Public, and Is prepared to draw Deeds, Mortgages and othertnstruments in writing. vlOnll. ~ PHYSIC IANS. F. A. JBLLEFF. W. H. SCHROCK. JELLEFF & SCHROCK, Physicians and Surgeons, DECATUR, INDIANA. OFFICE—On Second Street, opposite the Pub--lic Square.vßnlfttf. CHARLES L. CURTISS, Physician and Surgeon, DECATUR, INDIANA. HAVING permanently located in this plare,offers his professional services to the people of Decaf urn nd vicinity. OFFICE—In Houston's Block. Residence*! the Burt Hoiise* vllnUtf. ANDREW SOR G , Physician and Surgeon, DECATUR, INDIANA. OFFICE—Ou Second Street, over W. G. Spencer’s Hardware Store. van42ff. A. J? ERWIN, byb., Surgeon. Dispensary, Avclinc Block, v11n25 FORT WAYNE, IND. REAL ESTATE ACENT. JA’! E S R . ifbinr, LICENSED REAL ESTATE AGENT, DECATIR, INDIANA. ACRES of good fanning land,sevcrttl Town Lots and a huge quantity of wild land for sale. If you want to buy a good farm or wildland be will sell it to you. If you want your land sold he will sell it for yon. No sale, no chnrgv. v I On6l f. D ENESTRY. n. ii. McConnell, ♦* Surgeon Dentist, DECATUR, INDIANA. 'll work noatly exrcntrdand wnr“ II V I Jianti’q to give MitlHfHctjon. Call v r n>>'l<'xnmfne specimens. law office 1,1 k,ivu1 ’ 8 buiWUig, over Heller's ‘ , ct - vlhHVti. auctioneer. c n A -A-wotloxxeer, WILSHIRE, OHIO. MW-onld announce snathe public ), e iB a rPC p ''.‘“rb l.h-ensed Auctioned . nn,l will attend all I üblic bales, whenever reqiwwU d. bv addressing < *‘J lln « llt I'i" residence in Blue- ' reck Township, Adams Co., Ind. ts. HOTELS. a MIESSE HOUSE, I. J. MIESSE, Propri’for. Third St., Opposite the Court House, DECATUR, INDIANA. Wn connection with this House there is a Stage ■ run to and from Decatur and Monroeville,daily, which connects with trains running both waju, vlln9tt. MAId STREET EXMGE, A. FREEMAN, Proprietor, II est Main Street, near the Public Square, DlnlHf FORT "ANYE, INDIANA. HAVER HOUSE. J. W. BULL, Proprietor, Corner of Calhoun and JUrryzir Streets, vnn.ltf, TOItT WAYNB » »»«ana. H E DEK I N HOITSE. A. J. H. MILLS, Proprietor, On Barr, between Columbia and Main Sts., FORT WAYNE, INDIANA. Of Auburn and Decatur Stage lines. Alvll n 111 f. JEWELERS. -UIALKiSIXWatches, Clocks, Jemelry, SILVER AXD SILVER-PLATED WARE. Gold, Silyer and Steel Spectacles. Columbia Street, vllnSlyl. FORT WAYNE,IND. NEW JEWELRY STORE! x»r 7 DECATUR. • -;oc JAMES LALLEY, Announces to the oitiiens of Adams County and vicinity, that he has purchased the JEWELRY STORE in Dseaiur, of Mr. Eira Lyster. and will continue the business at the old stand, where he will keep constantly on hand a large and complete assortment of Watches, Clocks, Jewelry, Notions, Spectacles, &e., which he offers at prices to suit the times. Repairing of all kinds done on short not ice. , AH work warranted as represented. I v12n30 JAB. LALLET.

DECATUR, I]STD., FRIDAY, MARCH 5, 1860.

MARI MOORE. A Pleasant Love. Story. ! All my life long I had Known , Mary Moore. All my life had loved her. Our mothers were old playmates and first cousins. My first recollections are of a boy, in a red frock and moroco shoes, rocking a cradle in which reposed a sunny haired, blue eyed baby, not quite a year old. That boy was myself—t Harry Church; that blessed baby | was Mary Moore. ! Later still, I see myself at the little school house, drawing my little chair up to the door that Mary might ride home. Many a beating have I gained on such occasions, for other boys besides me liked her, and she, I fear, was something of a flirt, even in her pianafore. How elegantly she came tripping down the steps when I called her name. How sweetly her blue eyes looked at me. How gaily rang out her merry laugh.— . No one but Mary could ever bring i her heart so soon to her lips. I ■ followed that laugh from my days of childhood till I grew an awkward, blushin'g youth—l followed it through the heated noon of man —and now, when the frosts of age 1 are silvering my hair, and many children climb upon my knee and call me “father,” I find that the memories of youth are yet strong, and that, even in gray hairs, I am following the music still. When I was fifteen the first great sorrow of my life came upon my heart. I was sent to school, and was obliged to part with Mary. We were not to see each other for three long years. This was like a sentence of death, for Mary wac like life itself to me.— But hearts are tough things after all. I left college in all the flush and "vigor of my nineteenth year. I had grown into a tall slender stripling, with a very good opinion of myself, both in general and particular. If I thought of Mary Moore it was to imagine how I could dazzle, and bewilder her with my good looks and wonderful mental attainments, and never thinking she might dazzle me still more. I was a coxcomb, I knew, but as youth and good looks have fled, I trust that I may be believed when I say that self-conceit has left me also. An advantageous proposal was made me at that time, and accept ing it, I gave up all idea of a profession, and prepared to go to India. In my hurried visit home of two days, I saw nothing of Diary Moore. She had gone to a boarding school at some distance and was not expected home until the following May. I uttered out a sigh to the memory of the little blue eyed playmate, and then called myself a man again. In a year, I thought, as the vehicle whirled away from our door in a year or three years at the very most, I will return and if Mary is as she used to be, why, then perhaps I may marry her. And thus I settled the future of a young lady whom I had not seen for years. thought of the possibility of her refusing me —never dreamed that she would not condescend to accept my offer. But now I know that, had Mary met me then she would have despised me. Perhaps in the scented students hS-might have found plenty of sportbut as for loving me, I should perhaps have found myself mistaken. India was my salvation, not merely because of my laborious industry had contracted the evil in my nature, and has made me a better man.. When at the end of three years I predared to return, I said nothing of the reformation of myself which I knew had taken place. They loved me as I was, I murmured to myself, and they find oat for themselves whether I am bet ter worth loving than formerly. I packed up many a token from that of romance and gold, for the friends I had hoped to meet, the gift for mary Moore, I selected with a beating heart: it was a ring of virgin gold, with my name and liter's engraved inside—that was all, and yet the sight of the little toy strangely thrilled m I balanced it upon the tip of my finger. -To the eyes of others it was but a small plain circle suggesting some thoughts, perhaps by its elegance, of the beautiful white hand that was to wear it But not to me,—4ow much was embodied there—all these delight* were hidden within that littls ring of gold. Tall, bearded and snn bronzed I knocked at the door of my father's house. The lights in the parlor window, and the. hum of con-

versation and cheerful laughter showed me that company was as- ’ sembled there. I hoped sister Lizzie would come to the door, and I might greet my family when no strange eye was looking carelessly on. But no a—servant answered my summons. They were too merry 1 in the parlor to heed the long absent one who asked for admittance. ' A bitter thought like this run ' through my mind as I heard the sound from the parlor and saw 1 the half suppressed smile on the ’ servant’s face. I hesitated a moment before making myself known or asking 1 for any of the family.. And while I stood silent a strange apparition grew up before; me from behind the servant peered out a golden head, a tiny delicate form ’ followed and a sweet childish face, 1 with blue eyes, was a little to mine —so like those of one who had brightened my boyhood, that I started with a sudden feeling of pain. “What is your name, my pret- ' ty ?” I asked, while the wonder- ’ ing servant held the door. “Mary Moore.” 1 “And what else!” I asked quickly. She lifted up her hands to shade her eyes I had seen that very atti- ! tude in another, in my boyhood many and many a time—and answered in a sweet, bird-like voice: “Mary Moore Chester,” lisped the child. 1 My heart sunk down like lead. Here was an end to all the bright ■ dreams and hopes of my youth 1 and manhood. Frank Chester, ' my boyish rival, who often tried in vain to usurp my place besides ' the girl, had succeeded at last, and 1 had won her away from me. This was the child—his child and ■ Mary’s. I sank, bodj’ and soul, beneath this blow, and hiding my face in my hands, I leaned against the door, while mj' heart wept tears of blood. The little one gazed at me grieved and amazed, and put up her pretty lips as if about to cry, ’ while the perplexed servant stepped to the parlor door, and called my sister out to see who it was conducted himself so strangely. I heard a slight step and a pleasant voice saying—- “ Did you wish to see my father, 1 sir?” I looked up. There stood a pretty sweet maiden of twenty, not much changed from the dear little sister I had loved so well. I looked at her for a moment, and then stilling the tempest of my heart, . by a mighty effort, I opened ray arms and said : “Lizzie, don’t you know me ?” “Harry ! oh, my brother Harry !” She cried, and threw herself upon my breast. She wept as if her heart would break. I could not weep. I drew her gently into the lighted parlor, and stood with her before them all. There was a rush and a cry of joy, and my father and my mother sprang toward me and welcomed me home with heartfelt tears. Oh how sweet is such a greeting to . the way worn traveler. And as I held my dear old mother to my , heart, and grasped my father’s hand while Lizzie clung beside me I felt that all was not yet lost, and although another had secured life’s choicest blessings many a joy remained for mo in the dear sanctuary of home. There were four other inmates of the room, who had risen on my sudden entrance. One wa« the blue eyed child whom I had already seen, and who stood beside Frank Chester, clinging to his hand. Near by stood Lizzie Moore, Mary's eldest sister, and in a distant corner, to which she had hurriedly retreated, when my name was spoken, stood a tall and slender figure, half hidden by the heavy window curtains that fell to the floor. When the first rapturous greeting was over, Lizzie led me forward with a timid grace, and 1 Frank Chester grasped my hand. “Welcome home, my boy!” he said, with loud cheerful tones I remembered so well. “You have changed so that I never would have ] known you; but no matter about, that—your heart is in the right place, I know.” “How can you say he is chang-1 ed F’ said my mother, gently, “to be sure, he looks older and graver : and more like a man than when he' went away, but his eyes and smile ' are the same as ever. It is a heavy I heart which changes him. He is! my boy still.” “Aye. mother,” I answered sad-, ly, “I am your boy still.” , Heaven help me! At that mo-' ment I felt like a boy, and it would ; have been a blessed relief to have, wept on her bosom I had done,

in infancy. But I kept dowir^the beating of my heart and the tremor of my lip, and answered quietly as I looked into his full handsome face. “You have changed, too, Frank, but I’think for the better.” “Oh, yes—thank you for the compliment,” he answered with a hearty laugh. ‘My wife tells me I grow handsomer every day.” His wife. Could I hear that name and keep silent still ?” “And have you seen my little girl ?” he added, lifting the infant in his arms, and kissing her crimson cheek, •“I tell you Harry, there is not such another in the world. Don’t you think she looks very much like her mother used to?” “Very much!” I faltered-, “Hallo ?” cried Frank with a suddenness which made me start violently. “I have forgotten to introduce you to raj’ wife; I believe she and you used to be playmates in your younger days—yes. Harry!” and he slapped me on the back, “For the sake of old times and because you were not at the wedding I will give j’ou leave to kiss her once—but mind old fellow you are not to repeatthe ceremony. Come—here she is, and I for one want to see how you will manage those in the operation. He pushed Lizzie, laughing and blushing, towards me. A gleam of light and hope,“almost too dazzling to bear, came over me, and I cried out before I thought, “Not Mary.” It must have betrayed mj- secret to every one in the room.— ■ But nothing was said, even Frank in general so o’btuse, was tins time silent, I kissed the fair cheek |of the young wife, and hurried to the silent figure looking out of the window. “Marj'—Marj’ Moore,” I said in a low eager tone, “Ijavc you no welcome to give the wander'? She turned and laid her hand in mine, and said hurriedly—“l am glad to see you here Harry-” Simple words and yet how blessed they made me. I would not have yielded her up that moment for an emperor’s crown. For there was the happy home group and the dear fire side, with sweet Moore. The eyes I had dreamed of by day and night, were falling beneath the ardent gaze of ■ mine, and the face I had so long I prayed to see was there beside me I never knew the meaning of happiness until that moment. Many years have passed since that happy night, and the hair that was dark aud glossy then, is fast turning gray. lam now grown to be an old man, and can look back [ to a happy, and I hope a well spent life. And yet, sweet as it I had been. I would not recall a sin-; gle day, for the love that made my manhood so bright, shines also upon my white hairs. An old.man! Can this by so? At heart I am as j’oung as ever. — And Mary, with her bright hair parted smoothly, from a brow that had a slight furrow upon it, if still the Mary of other days. To me she can never grow old or change. The heart that held her infancy, and sheltered her in the flush and beauty of womanhood, can never cast her out till life shall cease to warm it Not even then, for love still lives above. The Jealously of Girls. Girls, say Every Saturday, are awfully jealous of each other. We should call this the girl’s distinctive fault. See them when they are introduced, or when they first meet at a ball or croquet party.— See how coldly critical they look at each other, how insolently their eyes rove over every portion of their rival’s dress; read in their , faces the out-spoken scorn as the I result of their scrutiny: “You think yon have done it very well but you have made a fright of yourself, and I am much better than you.” Watch their disdain of the I more admired among them ; and | how excessively haughty for attracting so ranch attention, they think that Ada or Amy about j whom the young men cluster.— , How bold she is—how overdresed she is—how affected she is—and I oh! how ugly she is! Sometimes, iif they are deep, they will over- ; I praise her enthusiastically; but i the ruse is generally too transpar- J 1 ent to deceive any one, and simply • amounts to what Mh—a clever feint j that doesen't answer. It is quite I a study to watch the wfiy in which ' girls shake hands together, or take hands in dancing. The limp, cool, impertiritnt way in which they just touch j*lms. then let their arms fall as if paralysed, tells ( a volume to those ahle to read the' j lettering. - jr* |

No. 48.

Anecdote of the Elder Booth. Mr. Elihu Burritt contributes to the February number of Packard’s Monthly an interesting article, under the title of ‘ Breathing a Living Soul into Dead Words,” in which the following anecdote is told of the elder Booth: The elder Booth was a man who threw into his impersonation an amount of heart and soul which the originals could scarcely have equaled. He did Richard 111 to the lifeand more. He had made human passions, emotions and experiences life’s study. He could not onlj’ act but f«el rage, love despair, hate, ambition, fury, hope and revenge, with a depth and force that half amazed his auditors. He could transmute himself into the hero of his impersonation, and he could breath a power into other men’s writen words which, perhaps, was never surpassed. And what is rather remarkable, when he was inclined to give illustrations of this faculty to private circles of friends, he nearty always selected some passages from Job, David of Isaiah, or other holy men of old. When an aspiring young professor of Harvard University went to him by night, to ask some little instruction or advice in qualifying himself for an orator, the veteran tragedin opened the Bible and read a few verses from Isaiah in a waj r that made the Cambridge scholar tremble with awe, as if the prophet had risen from the dead and were uttering his sublime visions in his ear. He was then residing in Baltimore, and a pious, urbane old gentleman of«that city, hearing of his wounderful power of elocution, one day invited him to dinner, although strongly deprecating the the stage and all tbeatical preformaces. A large, company set down to the table, and on returning to the drawing-room one of them requested Booth, as a special favor to them all, to repeat the Lord’s Prayer. He signified his willingness to gratify them, and all eyes were fixed upon him. He slowly and reverentilalty arose from his chair, trembling with th* burden of two great conceptions. He had to realize the character, attributes and presence of the Almighty Being he was to address He was to transform himself into ! a poor sinner, stumbling benightj ed, needy, suppliant, offering homage, asking bread, pardon, light and guidance. Says one of the company present: It was wonderful to watch the play of emotions that convulsed his countenance. He became deathly pale, I and his eyes, turned tremblingly i upward, were wet with tears. As yet ho had not spoken. The silence was felt; it had become abI solutety painful, until at last the I spell was broken as if by an electric shock, as his rich-toned voice, from white lips, syllabled forth. “Our Father, who art in Heaven,” etc., with a pathos and fervid solemnity that thrilled all hearts.— He finished ; the silence continued; not a voice was heard, not a muscle moved in his rapt audience, until, from a remote corner of the room, a subdued sob was heard, and the old gentleman (the host) stepped forward, with streaming eyes and tottering frame, and seized Booth by the hand : “Sir,” said he, in broken accents, “you afforded me a pleasure for which my whole future life will feel grateful. I am an old man, and every day, from boyhood to the present time, I thought I had repeated the Lord’s Prayer, but I never heard it before—neter!” “You are right,” replied Booth. “To read that prayer as it should be read, caused me the severest study and labor for thirty years: I and lam far from being satisfied with my rendering of that wonder- j ful production. Hardly one person in ten thousand comprehends how much beauty, tenderness and grandeur can be condensed in a space so small and in words so simple. That prayer itself sufficiently illustrates the truth of the Bible, and stamps upon it the seal of divinity.” “So great was the effect pro-1 duced, says onr informant, “that conversation was sustained but a short time longer, in subdued monosyllables, and almost entirely ceased ; and soon after, at an early hour, the company broke up and I retired to their several homes, with sad faces and full hearts.” It is well known bv butter makers that the cream which4rst rises on milk makes nicer butter than that which rise* after standing a long time. It is said that the milk that makes the butter that Queen Victoria eats is skimmed twice, 1 and twelve hours afterwards it is [churned.

The Noble Revenue. The Coffin was a plain one—a poor, miserable, pine coffiin. No flowers on the top: no lining of white satin for the pale brow; no smooth ribbons about the coarse shroud. The brown hair was laid decently back, but there was ho crimped cap with its neat tie beneath the chin. The sufferer from cruel poverty smiled in her sleep: she had found bread, rest and health. “I want to see mother,” sobbed a poor little child, as the undertaker screwed down the top. “You can’t; get out of the way, boy; why don't somebody take the brat ?” Onty let me see her one minute!’ cried the helpless orphan, clutching the side of the charity box, and as he gazed into the rough face, agonized tears streamed down the cheeks on which the childish bloom ever lingered. Oh. it was painful to hear him cry the words: “Only once; let me .see mother only once!” “Quickly and brutally the hardhearted monster struck the boy away, so that he reeled with the blow. For a moment the boy stood panting with grief and rage —his blue eyes distended, his lips sprang apart, a fire glittering through his eyes, as lie raised his little arm, with a most unchildish accent, aud screamed, “When I am a man I’ll kill you for that?” - There was a coffin and a heap of earth between the mother and the poor forsaken child—a monument much stronger than granite, built in this boy’s heart to the memory of the heartless deed. »■****»*♦ The court house was crowded to suffocation. “Does any on* appear as this man’s counsel?” asked the Judge. There was a silence. When he had finished, until, with lips tightly pressed together, a look of ' strange intelligence, blended with hauguty reserve upon his hand- •: some features, a young man step- ' | ped forward with a firm tread and •! kindly eye, to plead for the erring and friendless. He was a stranger ! but from the first sentence there was silence. The splendor of his genius entranced —convinced. I The man who could not find a i' frie'nd was acquitted“Maj’ god bless you, sir, I can- • not.’ o II “I want no thanks,” replied the I stranger. ; “I —I believe you are unknown ’ to me.” J' “Man, I will refresh your memi ory. Twentjvyears ago you struck ! a broken-hearted boj T away from hi* mother’s coffin. I was that boy.” The man turned livid. i “Have j'ou rescued me, than to take mj’ life ?” I “No. I have a sweeter revenge. ; I have saved the life of a man whose brutal deed has rankled in my breast for twenty years. Go and remember the tears of a friendless child.” The man bowed his head in shame, and went from the presence of magnanimity as grand to him as lncomprehen«ible. A Wifes Reveng. ' Some years ago in the county* or Penobscot, there lived a man by the name of H., whose great pleasure was in tormenting others. One cold, blustery night, be retired to bed at an early hour, bis wife being absent at a neighbor’s. Some time after when returning, finding the door closed, she demanded admittance. “Who are j*ou ? cried Mr. H. “You know who I am; let me in, its very cold.” “Begone, you strolling vagabond. I want nothing of you here! But I must come in.” “What is your name ?” “You know my name—lt’* Mrs. H.” “Begone! Mrs. 11. is a very likely woman—she never keeps such late hours as this.” Mrs. H. replied, “If you do not let me come in, I will drown myself in the well j • Do, if you please” he replied. She then took a big log and plunging it into the well returned to the side of the door. Mr.H. hearing the noise, rushed from the house to save as he supposed his drowning wife. She at that time slipped in, and closed the door after her. Mr. H., almost 'naked in turn demanded adnjjttance. “Who are you!” she demanded, i “You know who I am—let me in or I shall freeze.” “Begone, you thievish rogue, I want nothing of you here.” “But I must come in,” •‘What is your name ?” “You know my name—it’s Mr. H." “Mr. H. is a very likely man—he don’t keep such late hours.” Suffice it to say, after keeping him in the cold until she was satisfied. she opened the door and ; let him in. A Georgia paper saj’« that many of the farmers of that State have now stored away in their money boxes, all the wav from SI,OOO to i SB,OOO and slo,ooo—the procwb , of their last year's crop*.