Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 28, Number 3, Indianapolis, Marion County, 15 January 1879 — Page 7

THE INDIANA STATE SENTINEL, WEDNESDAY MOKN1NG, JANUAJRY 15, 1879.

THE TILLAGE GIRL.

Translated from the Swedish of Bunehergj The ran went down and evening came, the quiet summer oven, A mass of glowing purple lay between the forms and heaven; A weary troop of men went by, their day's hard labor done. Tired and contented, toward their homes they wended one by one. Their work was done, their harvest reaped, a goodly harvest, truly, A well-appointed band of foes all slain or captured newly; At dawn against this armed band they had cone forth to fight. And all had closed in victory before the fall of night. - - - - - Close by the field, where all day long the hard hot strife was raging, A cottage by the wayside stood, half desolate and agelDg, And on its worn, low steps there sat a silent girl and mused And watched the troop come slowly by. In weary line confused. She looked like one who sought a friend, she scanned each man's face nearly, High burned the color in her cheek, too high tor sunset merely; She sat so quiet, looked so warm, so flashed . with secret heat, . It seemed she listened as she gazed, and felt her own heart beat. But as she saw the troop march by, and darkness round them stealing, To every file, to every man, her anxious eye appealing, Seemed muttering in a shy distress a question without speech, More silent than a sigh itself, too anguished to beseech. But when the men had all gone past, and not a word was spoken. The poor girl's courage failed at last, and all her strength was broken. She wept not load, bat on her hand her weary forehead tell, And large tears followed one by one as from a burning wed. "Why dost thou weep? For hop9 may break. Just where the gloom is deepest! 0 daughter, hear thy mother's voice, aneedless tear thou weepest; . He whom thy eyes were seeking for, whose face thou eonldst not see. He is not dead, he thought of love, and still he lives for thee. He thought of love; I counseled him to shield himself from danger, 1 taught him bow to slip the fight, and leave them like a stranger; By force they made him march with them, but weep not, rave not thus, I know be will not choose to die from happy life and us." Shivering, the maiden rose like one whom awful dreams awaken. As If some grim foreboding all ber soul in her had shaken; She lingered not. she sought the place where late had raged tbe fieht. And stole away bud swiitly fled and vanished oat of sight. An hour went by, another hour, the night nad closed around he; Tbe moon shot clounds were silver white, bnt darkness hung below them. 'She lineerslons; O daughter, come, thy toll Is all in voin, Te-niorrow, era the dawn Is red, thy bridegroom's here again !" The daughter came: with silent step she came to meet her mother. The pallid eyelids strained no more with tears she fain wonld smother; But colder than tbe wind at night the hand that mother pressed, And whiter than a Winter cloud the maiden's cheek and breast. "Make me a grave, O mother dear; my days on earth are over! Tbe only man that fled to-day, that coward was my lover; He thought of me andcf himself, the battle lie scanned. And then betrayed his brothers' hopo and shamed his fathers' land. When past our door the troop marched by, aud I their ranks numbered, I wept to think that like a man among the dead be slumbered, I sorrowed, bat my grief was mild, it had no bitter weight, I would have lived a ehousand years to mourn his noble fate. O mother, I have looked for him where'er the dead are lying. But none of all the stricken bear his features, calm in dying; Now will I live no more on earth in shame to sit and sigh. He lies nownere among the dead, and, therefore, I will die-" 'the CornhiU Magallne. TWO PAIR DECEIVERS. What do young men talk about when they sit at tbe open windows, smoking on summer evenings? Do you suppose it isof love? Indeed, I suupect it is of money ; or, if cot money, then of something that either makes nioney or spends it. Cieve Sullivan has been spending his for years in Europe, and he has just been telling his friend John Selden bow be spent it. Jobn has spent bU in New York he is inclined to think, just as profitably. Both stories concluda in tbe came way. "I have not a thousand dollars left, John." , "Nor I, Cleve." "I thought yonr cousin died two years ago? Surely you have not spent all the old gentleman's money already?'' 7 -I onlv got $3.,000. 1 owed half of it." "Only"$20,000! What did he do with it?" "Gave it to bis wife. He married a beauty awur a year after yon went away, died in a fear months afterward, and left her his whole fo-tune. I had no claim on him. He educaed me, gave me a profession and $20,000. That was very well; he was only my mother's cotsin." And the widow where is she?" , "Living at his country seat. I have never seen ber. 8 be was one of tbe St. Maura of . Maryland." "Good family and all beauties. Why don't you marry the widow?" "Why I never thought of such a thing." "You can't think of anything better. Write her a little note at once; say that yon and I will soon be in her neighborhood, and that gratitude to your cousin, and all that kind of thing then beg to call and pay respect, etc , etc" John demurred a good deal to the plan, but Cleve was masterful, and the note was written, Cleve himself putting it in the postoffice. That was on Monday night. On Wednesday morning the Widow Clare found it, with a dozen others, upon the breakfast table. She was a dainty, high-bred little lady, with Kyes that drowse with dreamy splendor, CheekB with rose-leaf tintings tender, Lips like fragrant posy, and withal a kind, hospitable temper, well in- . ciined to be happy in the happiness ol others. , But this letter could not be answered " with the usual polite formula. She was quite aware that John Seldom had regarded . himself for many years bis cousin's heir, ' and that her marriage to the late Thomas Clare had seriously altered his prospects. Women easily see through the best laid plans of men, and this plan was transparent enough to the shrewd little widow. John would scarcely have liked the half-con- . temptous shrug and smile which terminated her thoughts on the matter. "Clementine: if you could spare amoment from your fashion paper, I want to consult vou. dear, about a visitor." Clementine raised ber blue eyes, dropped her paper, and said, "Who is it, fan?" "It is John Selden. If Mr. Clare, had not married me, he would have inherited the Clare estate. I think he is coming now to aee if it is worth while asking fee, enoum be red by his cousin's widow." "What selfishness! Write and tell him that you are just leaving for the Sues Canal, or the banawicn tsiauas, or any otner inconTenient place." "No; I have a better ;lan than that ' Clementine, do atop reading; a few minutes. 1 will take that pretty cottage at Rysbank for the summer, and Mr. Selden and his friend shall runt us there. No one knowa as in the place, and I will take none of the errant with me." "Well?" "Then, Clamentine. you art to 1m tb ew r

widow Clare, and I your poor friend and companion." "Good! very good! 'The Fair Deceivers an excellent comedy. Uow I thall anus you. Fan! And for once I shall have the pleasure of oatdresaing yon. But baa not Sir. Selden ever seen yon?" "No; I was married in Maryland, and went immediately to Europe. I came back a widow two years ago, but Mr. Selden has never remembered me until now. I wonder who this friend is that ha proposes to bring with him?" "0ht men always think in pairs, .Kan. They never decide on anything until their particular friend approves. I dare say they wrote the letter together. What is the gentleman's name?" The widow examined the note. "'My friend, Mr. Cleve Sullivan.' Do yon know him. Clementine?" "No; I am quite sure that I never saw Mr. Cleve Sullivan. I don't fall in love with the name do you? But pray accept the oSer for both gentlemen. Fan, and write this morning, dear." Then Clementine returned to the consideration of the lace in qoquilles for her new evening dress. Tbe plan so hastily sketched was subsequently thoroughly discussed and carried oat. The cottage at Ryebank was taken, and one evening at the end of June the two ladies took possession of it. The new widow Clare had engaged a maid in New York, and fell into her part with charming ease and a very pretty assumption of authority; and the real widow, in her plain dress and pensive, quiet manner, realized effectively the idea of a cultivated but dependent companion. They had two days in which to rehearse their parts and get all the household' machinery in order, and then the gentlemen arrived at Ryebank. Fan and Clementine were quite ready for their first call; the latter in a rich and exquisite mourning costume, the former in a simple dress of spotted lawn. Clementine went through the introductions with consummate ease of manner, and in half an hour they were a very pleasant party. John's "cousinship" afforded an excellent basis for informal companionship, and Clementine gave it full prominence. Indeed, in a few days John began to find the relationship tiresome. It had been "Cousin John, do this,"and "Cousin John, come here," continually; and one night when Cleve and he sat down to smoke their final cigar, he was irritable enough to give his objections the form of speech.

"Cleve, to tell you the honest truth, I do not like Mrs. Clare." "I think she is a very lovely woman, John." "I say nothing against her beauty, Cleve; I don't like her, and 1 have no mind to occupy tbe place that beautiful, ill-used Miss Marat fills. The way Cousin Clare ignores or snubs a woman to wnom she is in every way inferior makes me angry enough I assure you." "Don' t fall in love with the wrong woman, John." "Your advice is too late, Cleve; I am in love. - There is no use in us deceiving our selves or eech other. You seem to like the widow why Dot marry her? I am quite willing you should" "Thank you, John; I have already made some advances that way. They have been favorably received. I am thinking." "You are so handsome, a fellow has no chances against you. But we shall hardly quarrel, if you do not interfere between lovely little Clement and myself." "I could not afford to smile on her, John; she is too poor. And what on earth are you going to do with a poor wile? Nothing add' ed to nothing will not make a decent liv ing." "I am going to ask her to be my wife, and if she does me the honor to say yes, I will make a decent living out of my proiession." From this time forth John devoted him self with some ostentation to his supposed cousin's companion. He was determed to let the widow peiceive that he had made his choice, and that he could not be bought with ber money. Mr. Selden and Mus Marat were always together, and the widow did not interfere between her companion and her cousin. Perhaps she was rather glad of their close friendship, for tbe handsome Cleve made a .much more delightful attendant. Thus the party fell quite naturally into couples, and the two weeks that the gentlemen bad first fixed as the limit of their stay lengthened into two months. It was noticeable that as tbe ladies became more confidential with their lovers, they had less to say to each other; and it began at last to be quite evident to the real widow that the play must end for the present, or the denouement would come prematurely. Circumstances favored redetermination. One night Clementine, with a radiant face, came into her friend's room, and said. "Fan, I have something to tell you. Cleve has asked me to marry him." Now, Clement, you have told him all; I know you have." Not a word, r an. He still believes me the widow Clare." "Did you accept him?" "Conditionally. I am to give him a final answer when we eo to the city in October. You are going to New York this winter, are yon not?" Yes. Our little play progresses finely. John Selden asked ma to be his wife tonight" 1 told you that men think ana act in pairs." John is a noble fellow, l pretended to think his cousin had ill used him, and he defended him until I was ashamed of myself; absolutely said, Clement, that you were a sufficient excuse for Mr. Clare's will. Then he blamed his own past idleness so much, and promised if I would only try and endure 'the slings and arrows' of your outrageous temper, Clement, for two years longer, he would have made a home for me in which l could be happy. Yes. Clement. 1 should marry John Selden if we had not a hve dollar bill between us. 1 wish Cleve had been a little more ex plicit about his money affairs. However, there is time enough yet. When they leave to-morrow, what shall we do? " "We will remain here another month: Levine will have the house ready lor me by that time. I have written to hint about refurnishing the parlors." So next day the lovers parted, with many promises ot constant letters and future happy days together. This interval was long ana anil enough; but it passed, and one morning both gentlemen received notes of invitation to a small dinner party at the widow Clare's mansion in street. There wss a good deal of dressing for this party. Cleve wished to make his entrance into his future home as became the prospective master of a million and a half of money, and Jobn was desirous of not su tiering in Clement's eyes by any comparison with tbe other gentlemen who would probably be there. Scarcely had they entered tbe drawing room when the ladies appeared, the true widow Clare no longer in tbe unassuming toilet she had hitherto worn, but magnifi cent in white crepe lisse and satin, her arms and throat and pretty head Hashing with sapphires and diamonds.- Her companion bad assumed now tbe role of simplicity, and Cleve was disappointed with the first glance at her plain white Cham be ry gauze dress. John had seen nothing but the bright face of the girl he loved and the love light in ber eyes. Before she could speak he bad taken both her hands and whispered, "Dearest and best and lovlieet Clement." Her smile answered him first Then she said: "Pardon me, Mr. Selden, but wa have been In masquerade all summer, and now we must unmask before real life begins. My name is not Clementina Marat but Fanny Clara. Cousin John, I hope yon are not disappointed. Than she pat her band Into John's, and they wandered off Into tbe conservatory to nnith their explanation. Mr. Cleve Sullivan found himaelf at that moment in the most trying circumstaooes of his Ufa. Tha real Clementine Karat stood looking down at flown oa tiw oipy od

evidently expecting him to resume the ten

der attitude oe had been accustomed to bear toward her. He wss a man of quick decision where his own interests were concerned, and it did not take him half a minute to review his ' position and determine what to do. This plain blonde girl without fortune was not the girl be could marry: she had deceived him, too he had a sudden and severe spasm of morality; his confidence was broken; be thought it was very poor sport to play with a man's most sacred feelings; be had been deeply disappointed and grieved, etc., etc. Clementine stood perfectly still, with her eyes fixed on the carpet and her cheeks gradually flushing, as Cleve made his awkward accusations. She gave him do help, and she made no defense, and it soon becomes embarrassing for a man to stand in the middle of a large drawing-room and talk to himself about any girl. Cleve felt it so. "Have you done, sir?" at length she asked, lifting to his face a pair of blue eyes scintillating with scorn and anger. "I promised you my final answer to your suit when we met in New Yark. Yoa have spared me that trouble. Good evening, sir." , Clementine showed to no one her disappointment, and probably soon recovered from it. Her life was full of many other pleasant plans and hopes, and she could well afford to let a selfish lover pass out of it She remained with her friend until after the marriage between her and John Selden had been consummated; and then Cleve paw her name among the list of passengers sailing on one particular day for Europe. As John ana his bride left on the same steamer, Cleve supposed, of course, she had gone in their company. "Nice thing it would have been for Cleve Sullivan to marry JuhnSelden's wife's maid, or something or other! John always was a lucky fellow. Some fellows are always unlucky in lovo affairs I always am." Half a year afterward he reiterated this statement with a great deal of unnecessary emphasis. He was just buttoning his gloves preparatory to starting for his afternoon's drive, when an old acquaintance hailed Mm. "Oh, it's that fool Belmar," he mnttored. "I shall have to offer him a ride. I thcn?ht he was in Paris. Hello, Belmar, when did you get back? Have a ride?" "No, thank you. I have promised my wife to ride with her this afternoon." "Your wife! When were you married?" "Last month, in Paris." "And the happy lady was " "Why, I thought you knew; every one is talking about my good fortune. Mrs. Belmar is old Paul Marat's only child." "What?" "Miss Clementine Marat She bmgs me nearly $3,000,000 in money and real estate, and a heart beyond all price." "How on earth did you meet her?' "She was traveling with Mr. and Mrs. Selden you know John Selden. She has lived with Mrs. Selden ever since she left school ; they were friends when they were girls together." - .j Cleve gathered up bis reins, and nodding to Mr. Frank Del mar, drove at a finable rate up the avenue and through the park. He could not trust himself to speak to any one, and when he did, the remark which he made to himself in strict confidence was not Mattering. For once Mr. Cleve Sullivan said to Mr. Cleve Sullivan that he bad been badly punished, and that he well deserved it A CLAIM. A. ST TO HILLIOKS. Tbe Wife of at Boston Dentist Said to be Ilclr to Property Worth) 9I0,OO0,AO In Maryland and Scotland. lHoRton Dispatch to New York Times. A claimant to large estates in Maryland the property of William Mackey, who died in the eighteenth century and also in the city of Scotland, valued at over ten million dollars, appears in the person of Mrs. Mary Marter, of this city, wife of Dr. Charles Marter, a dentist who has been for some time abroad in poor health, ana is now on his way home from India. In November last she read a paragraph in a Boston naner in reference to the claims of certain persons in Maryland to property left about 140 years ago by William Mackey. From him she claims to be directly decended, and she has put her claim in tbe bands of lawyers, and PROr08fi8 TO FIGHT for her rights. Her story is that her father was Dr. Mackey, of Glasgow. Mrs. Marter says when she was a little girl she often herd her father speak ol his grandfather s brother, William Mackey, who died in Maryland, and who bad left a large property to which be undoubtedly was an heir. She says her father's grandfather was John Mackey, a brother of William, who did in Maryland. John was dissipated, and died wealthy. William, esrly in life, was of a roving disposition, wandered to Maryland, where he married and became tbe owner of large number of slaves and vast estates. When he died, by his will dated in 1722. he cut off his two sons, William and Robert with "five shillings and no more," and left each of his daughters a certain amount and the residue of his property to his heirs in the old country. Mrs. Marter says that William's sons died at an early age, and were cut off for some overt act which greatly excited the anger of their father. Soon after William Mackey's death, in Maryland, bis heirs BECAME ALSO HKIR8 to an immense property in Scotland, to which Mrs. Marter now lays claim, as well as to that at issue in Maryland. Jobn Mackey, tie brother, on dying, lelt a son Henry, who afterward was the father of Mrs. Marter's father. Dr. sRobert Mackey. She says that the property in Maryland, which belongs to ber, is valued at about tz.ouu.uuu, and that those in Maryland now presenting their claims to it are descendants of tbe daughter oWilliam Mackey, whose claims were covered by the provisions niaae ex plicitly lor them in bis will. Included in the property in Scotland, which Mrs. Marter says is hers, is Lang side and Clyde terrace, the latter a very large business oiock. airs. Marter's counsel here has retained counsel in Glasgow to look after his client's inter eats when tbe matter comes np for settle ment which will probably be in ebrnary, The claimant is in- very moderate circum stances. Salyellle Acid. Chemistrv la constantly finding a nw thing, or a new use for an old thing. The lateit is salycinc acid, for the preservation of fish In their freshness ana nayor oi nesn. By tbe new process of curing, which has been need in Germany for more than a year. fish of all kinds can be preserved so as to re tain nearly all their original excellences. It is understood that tbe expense of preparing fish by the use of this acid is not much greater than tbe cost attendant on tbe other method, while the result is infinitely more satisfactory. It islalreaday about a cheap as ice. The supply of salycilic acid is well nigh inexhaustible. The aalicine is derived from willow bark. The acid may also be procured from carbolic acid. Like When well diluted it is tasteless and inodor ous. It is now used to prevent the souring of beer, and to arrest putrefaction In the manufacture of glue. Missionaries and Boston Herald.) Eight hundred thousand gallons of rum and only one missionary on a ship bound to Africa. Tha proportion of missionary seems mall, bat perhaps the ram is watered, and at any rate it la probable that tha miseionary will last the longer. sssper favataa. Kansas City Times. The Spanish Court is always getting ready for a wedding or a funeral. King Alfonso has suddenly ceased to mourn or bis lata companion, and It to marry Belgian

THE GRAZE FOR COINS.

One Cent Worth One Thousand Dol. . lars. English Folk OflTerlaa; Fabulous Frlees For Complete Collections of American Colas. Philadelphia Recor-1. Perhaps tbe leading numismatist of America is tbe occupant of a comfortable residence on North Tenth street in this city. His name is Mason, and he has been in the profession for a score of years. Every summer he goes to England for a couple of months, and disposes ot the stcck of old . American coins which be had collected during the previous ten months. In England his name is well known, both as a seller of old coins and a writer on numismatic subjects. During his summer visit he puts in an appearance in all the principal towns, where he is always fortunate in finding men of wealth who are willing and anxious to add to their store of old money. "There is a perfect craze in Enlt.nd for old American coins," remarked Mr. Mason, yesterday; "but the English are great collectors any bow. Why, in Wardner street, n London, there are nearly one hundred old coin stores next door to one auother. I collect complete sets of American coins from the time of the revolution, and I always find plenty of customers in England, principally in Liverpool, London, Sheffield and Man chester. I sell both to private parlies and to dealers. Here is a set of old colonial coins I am now making np," and the speaker pointed to a table strewn with large copper coins. 'These," he continued, "were issued by the States after the revolution, when they were called colonies." Then he handed the coins up for inspec tion. All were in a good state of preservation. A New Jersey cent dated 1787, about the size of a silver quarter dollar, was adorned with a bear and a plow. One coined In Vermont in 17SC had the head of George III. on one side and Brittania on tbe other. A Massachusetts cent, dated 1787, had for arms an Indian carrying a bow and arrow, while one of Connecticut, of 17S6. bad a head of George III., but qualified on the other side by the inscription, "Liberty, Independence," in Latin. Old American coins are getting very scarce on this side of the water. Among those greatly in demand are the cents of 17U3, which belong to the hrst series ot United States copper coinage, and were coined in this city at the old mint, which was then located at Seventh and Filbert streets. An other scarce coin is tbe 1787 cent which was designed by Benjamin Franklin and coined in Hartford. The 1793 half-cents are very rare. So also are the silver dollars made in tbe old Philadelphia mint in 179-L. One of these, which is safely locked up in the Brit ish Museum, cost that institution $1,000. Silver quarter-dollars coined in are worth $100 each. Silver balf-dlmes, issued from the mint in 1802, are also at a premi urn, and all efforts to obtain any of them to complete sets, even at - the nure ol iuu, proved lutiie. silver dollars of 1804 are extremely scarce. only five, so far as known, being in exist ence. Three of these are owned in England, and are valued at $1,000 each. Half dollars of 1796 and 1797 coinage are worth $30, and the same figure is offered for a 1799 cent or a half-cent of 1796. Notwithstanding these high prices collectors say that in selling again abroad they average iuo per cent proht. Thev also sav that the fictitious val ne of coins has Increased 100 per cent during tbe last five years, while the tendency is still upward. Experimental coins are also greatly in demand, and tbe goloid dollars. which were recently coined as a sample for the Government are worth $25 to the col lectors. Mr. Mason has a piece of paper money which he yalues very highly, as it may be termed tbe corner stone of our greenback system. Its size is about three inches by two. the paper is sun, although brown with age. One side reads as follows: THREE PKNCK. : : 73,819. Three Pence. : This bill shall pass current; for 8 pence within the Province of; Pennsylvania, accord Ids; to an Act: ot Assembly made in 4th year of: : KLngUeorge III. : i Dued the ( 18th day of June, 1761. - ; ..'............... Three Pence. : 5 J. W. Wharton. : : English Coat; of Arms. : I : ..................... ...-..."- Oa the obverse side the words "three pence" are printed in each corner. In the center is tbe statement in clear, deep type: Printed by B. Franklin and D. Hall, not. This ancient "greenback." which is very valuable, was found by soma workmen who were investigating tbe interior ol an under ground vault in Chester several years ago. There will be a great gathering of numis matists in New York to-morrow. A large collection of rare cents, once the property of Mr. George W. Aierritt, of Irvington. N. Y., is to go nnder tbe hammer, and some spirited competition is anticipated. In the catalogue are sixteen cents of tbe coinage of 1793, which are stated to be as fine as on the day they were issued from the mint A SPY AID A 1IF.RU. Tbe Deeds of Nathan Hale, tbe Wk Snanld Get the Monument Do signed1 for Major Andre. There seems to be some revolutionary patriotism left yet, j udging from the vigor cus protests entered everywhere agaiast the proposed erection ot a monument by certain citizens of New York, Cyrus W. Field in particular to the memorr of Mai. John Andre, whose capture prevented tha consummation of Benedict Arnold's treacb erous designs. Tbe protests indignantly point to tne iact tnat tne graves ot thousands ot our revolutionary heroes are still unmarked, and instance the fate and treat ment of Capt Nathan Hale, of Coventry. Conn., aged 21, who was captured in the British lines in New York aud hanged as a spy. He was a most heroio yonne fellow. and was selected by Washing lo to make a long and perilous journey through tha Eng lish army, which the "Father" calculated would, if successful, save his little starving and fast dissolving forces from annihilation. As a school teacher, Hale accomplished his object, remaining two weeks in the enemy's lines. Hsj was betrayed by a Tory relative and captured while returning to tbe Ameri ean lines. He was stripped and searched and, as in Andre's case, there were found be tween the soles ot bis shoes detailed plant and memoranda. Farther than thisnoth ing baa ever been known. Whether Hale was treated with the kindness that was ex tended to Anare after bis capture la very doubtful. It is certain that be was not after his arrival In New York. Hale reached New York on Satnrdav. Sent 21 tbe day of tha great fire that burned 400 building Jron Whitatall slip to Barclay

street, where it was checked by tbe College Green. He was taken at once before Loid Howe, who was usi Dg tbe Be k maa mansion, near turtle bay for hia headquarters. The pres ent site is Fifty-first street and First avenue. Here lives James Beekman in luxury; but a strong advocate of the revolutionary cause,

ne gave up- nis eiegant nome wnen .bora Howe occupied New York, and took his family back into the country. Here the British officers received and entertained their guests; here Andre danced the night before he went up tbe Hudson to barter with Benedict Arnold, and here Hale. pinioned and guarded, was taken before Lord Howe. It is believed that Gen. Howe retired to a green house just back of tbe mansion, and listened there to the charges against the young revolutionary captain, and was shown tbe plans and data found In Hale's shoes. Hale denied nothing. He admited that be was a captain in Washington's army, said that he bad been a spy and had been successful in his search for information ; regretted that be was by his capture unable to serve his country, and then fearlessly awaited his sentence. He did not even de- I aaand a court-martial. In a few minutes he beard his sentence: "William Cunningham, provost marshal of the royal army in New York, is directed to receiva into his custody the body of Nathan Hale, a captain in the ! rebel army, convicted as a spy, and to see him banged by the neck until dead, to-mor-row morning at day break." Hale was at once taken in charge bv tbe brutal Cunningham, who was afterward hanged after confessing that he had been accessory in several hundred murders, and who was responsible for tbe awful suffering of federal prisoners in tbe old sugar-house prison, still standing in Hose ttre?t. It is believed that Cunningham took Hale to the 'rovost, a pnioa that stood where is now the hall of records. Beyond this, toward Broadway, and bordering on Chambers street was a grave yard, which also served as a place for public executions. Hale is believed to have been confined in a cell the little window of which looked out upon tbe park and ten tie street Cunningham asked Hale, as he put Mm into his cell, for his name, age, size, and rank, and then read the death warrant to him. As be was leaving. Hale asked that his arms might be unptnioned aud that he might have writing materials and a light Cunningham refused this with an oath. Then Hale asked that he might have a bible. This, too, was denied him. Subsequently a young officer of Hale's guard interceded for him, and his arms were freed, and a light, pen, ink, and paper, and a bible were given to him. Part of tbe night be passed in writing one let ter to his mother another to his sister and a third to his sweetheart When Cunning ham reached Hale's cell in the morning he found the federal captain and spy ready. It was just at daybreak. Hale banded the provost marshal the letters he bad written. and asked, as a dying favor, that they be tept until they could be delivered. Cunningham red them insolently in Hale's presence, and then tore them up. When asked afterward why he did this, be said t at he did not want the rebels to know that they had a man who could die with such firmness. Then he ordered Hale to make ready for the scaffold. His arms were pinioned, a coarse white gown trimmed with black was placed over his body, and a white cap put on bis bead. A rough board coffin was carried by attendants in front of him, a guard of soldiers was arouna him. and the negro executioner Richmond brought up the rear with the ladder and noose. Thus attended, Hale walked to the gallows. It is probable that be walked from the prison to the cemetery, on the site of a part of which the new court house stands. Then, while Capt Hale was standing on the rounds of the ladder, with tbe noose about his neck, Cunningham addre-sed him, and scoffingly asked him to speak out his dying speech and confession. It is said that Hale just glanced, with a touch of contempt on his features, at Cunningham, and then turning to the others be said quietly, but with an impresiiveness that silenced the jibes of those who were there to joke, and melted some to tears: I only regret that I have but one life to loose for my country." "Swing the rebel on:" shouted tbe maddened Cun ningham. In half an hour the body of tbe martyr was buried, probably in a grave beneath the gal Iowa The site was unmarked, and when the revelutinary army re-entered New York there was no one who could tell where Hale was sleeping. Bat the story of his heroic death and his memorable words nnder tbe gallows, speedily became known throughout the army. It inspired tbe men like a victory, and in after years, until a comparatively recent time, Hale's only monument has beer tbe remembrance ot him as the "Martyr Spy of the Revolntion" and of his dying words. Hale was just of age when he died. He was a native of Coventry, Conn., and born in 1755. Educated at Yale College, was a teacher in New London, with the ultimate purpose of entering the ministry, when the news came from Boston of tbe battle of Lexington. He was one of tbe hrst to enlist a few boars after this news was received, and be encouraged others to enlist "Let ns march immediatly," he is on record as saying, "and never lay down our arms until - we obtain our independence " Tbe next morning tbe fsew London company were on tbe road to Boston. Some years ago an effort was made to induce congress to make an appropriation for a monument to Hale a memory, it was unsuccessful. Then the women of bis native town, Coventry, with tbe aid of s small sum granted by the State of Connect! cut, collected money enough to erect a mono ment It is a simple granite sba't 40 feet btgb. ' It bears bis name and tbe dates and places of birth and death, and his dying words. "I only regret that I have bat one life to loose for my country." . t m ' Prohibition vs. License. The Massachusetts bureau of statistics has collected from 19 cities and 300 towns statistics bearing upon the working of the liquor law. They find that in 1874, with a prohibiting law. there were 5,550 illegal sellers of rum. and the arrests of drunkness numbered 28,800, resulting in ,23,938 convictions. In 1877, there were 5,241 licened sellers, 20,494 arrests for drunkness and 17,818 convictions. Ubyiously the llcsnse sys tem works i in tbe interest of temperance, while it brings a revenue to the state. "Too true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis. 'Us true' that too many sensible people regard congbs and colds so indifferently. Dr. Bull's Coach Syrup cures coughs and colds, and la only 25 cents a Dottle. - - A Medicine Cheat for S3 Cents. Perhaps no one medicine is so universally required by everybody as a good cathartic. Swayne's Tar and tSarsaparilla Fills are pre pared expressly to meet this necessity; being composed of purely vegetable ingredients, -of which Podophyilin or Mandrak, Pine Tree Tar, Sansparilla, Yellow Dock and other concentrated juices enter largely into their composition; the whole strength ol which is extracted on an ent raly new -principle. They are mild In tbeir operation, produce no griping, and are trnly a valuable tmrga five, aperient,' anti-blllous and cathartic medicine. They stimulate, the liver to healthy action, cleanse the stomach and bowels of all imparities. Curing tick and nervous headache, dyspepsia or indieestioo. bilious, intermittent, remittent and congestive fevers, languor, drowsiness, achine pains in the back, head, slight chills, with flushes of heat, female irregularities, and for a bilious and costive habit, no medicine Is so nmmnttnil AfTfn&l am Tlr flirivna'a T. and Sarsaparilla Filial ff your druggist or storekeeper baa not got them, or will not procure them for yon, we will forward them by mail on receipt of price (in currency or postage stamps), 25 cent a box, or five boxes tor si. Address lextera, Dr. uwsyne Bon, No. 330 North Sixth street. PhiladelDhia. Bold at French's Medicine Depot, nnder Xfasvuie xainyi! timianayviia, -

Tbe BL.AJVCnAMl BLOOD & NERVE FOOD la a Pan Concentrated L.IQTJID Food prepared dlrveUx rrwna Uto WHEAT KEHNED.

Without re imitation, and all of Its retaining BLOOD, SERVE ASO BBAIS Kestonnc dements in a natural state of vital Isatlon. NERVOUS DE BIXITY Which underlies all fo-ms or Chronic Disease is speedily overcome by the use of this Food. For the year past I have constantly prescribed Tne Blatnrbard Blood and Herre Food to my patients of all ages, from eighteen months to eighty-three years. In every case the remit has been exactly that claimed by yoa. It is by far the most valuable and reliable Tome I have ever met wih. Edwakd Scttoh Smith, M. D., 30 Irving Place, Mew York. FOOD AT LAST DRUGS 4 SUBSTITUTE tor, FOOD Is made a curative agent by concentration au'l artificial digestion, and it is eo simple in Its application that I tie ad rice of physicians In not required. Thousand of recoveries from chronic diseases are reported, where the best medical skill hae failed. Many of the nrt physicians thronhout tbe oonntry are Itioftrrtlnv irntf and nsicg the Blnnebam Blood aud rrve F-k! with the most gratifying results, permanentlv relieving all forms of Physical snd Mentis Debility. The Iyspeptlc aid CouMUtnp. live Patient, RutTnrs from Kalnrlal or Blood PolMontns;, together with the entire list of complaint peculiar to the f-ntnl Nex find In the use of this Food sure and speedy relief. Kiw "York, November 28, 1877. Dr. V.W. Blajs chard: Dnring the past yeai I have prescribed, yonr various preparations of Food Cure, and feel happy to say tney have met my most sanguine expectations, "giving to patients long enfeebled by blond noisoc, chronic disease, or over drug dosing neea ed nutrition and nerve force. PRor.CLEMENCE 8. 1XJZIER, M. D , Dean of Horn. Med. College aud Hospital tor Women, New York City. o Hundreds of cases of Brlahfh Disease of the Kidneys have been reported cured. For Henralsjie and Rltenmntle B-ineasee it is almost a specific. Physical and Mental Debility from toe Hue of Aleonol, Oplana and Tobnceo or from any unnamable cause, find In this Food a natural and sotent remedy. FOR THE INTELLECTUAL WORKEB THE ni.AXCIIARl BLOOD & NERVE FOOD Affords a certain ana natural means of sup plying tne waste oi ins Drain resulting trora labor that will enable him to do better and more wo't than ever before, without danrer ' of mental strain. As a remedy for the Law of Atntlt and Wnot oi V'iiror. uhvsical and mental. In ' children, this Food has no rival. $1.00 per Bottle, or 6 for $5.00. - SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS. Or Bent by Express on receipt of Price. o Andovkr TwaoixjoiCAt- 8em nt art, ;:j Akdover, UAab., March 20, 1878. ' Your Li fe Food is an excellent thine. I have do hesitation, after a thoroueh trial of 1U in recommending it in cases of chronic dyspepsia huu nervous pitwiraiion. luCV. UK. AUBTLN fll.LJ?ii . THE BLANCH ARD FOOD CXR. BTHTES now receiving snch popular app -elation is clearly set forth in a 64 page pa phlet whien will besent to any address oo oeipt of 25 centn. Address Blanchard Food Care Co. 27 CKIOH BttUARE, HEW YORK. IS t GREAT REMEDY. Tain really wonderful article was Invented as an improvement on the ordinary porous plaster. Contains all the merit of the common porous plaxber.snd lu addition a new ai.d powerful combination of active vetctable ingredients which makes it not only superior to other porons plattero, but to all other external remedies including liniments and the no-called electrical appliances, etc it acts more promptly, powerfully and eflVctlvely than any similar remedy ever devised. ITS CHEAPNESS.: A single plaster coots .but 25 cents, and In many instances, especially when intended for children, It can be cut iu two and tbe parts applied at different times. Its virtue in not exhausted In a day; It can be worn, taken off, and worn again, and this operation repeated several times. Benson's Ca peine Porous Pias ter is especially recommended for the followihg ailments:. L&HE DACK. Weakness of the Back and Muscles, Kidney Disease, Rheumatism, Sciatica, Lumbago, Affections of the Heart, Female Complaints, Stubborn and Neglected Co:ds and Coughs, Fever aud Ague, Dineases of Children, such Whooping Cough, Ordinary Coughs and Oolda,anacYoop(when utwd iu iUearly sUges), and for all loctl Aches and Palp of Young or Old.. For such ailments as fit fie it Is warranted to be superior to any known remedy. RSH MY PHYSIC!!?. The renpirkable mrlt of Benson's Xapdne Plaster ha been recoRuiac-d by physician and chemiUt everywhere, and we rommeai those who naveaouo's coucernlng thetrntn of.the above sttementil to consult som reliable physician .iu their own locality. By taking tills small trouble sll will be convinced that the article Is precisely what it is claimed to be.. , . - CEKSOl-'S - . CAPCINE POROUS PLASTER can be obtained of almost any druggist In the United states or Canada lor 24 dints. Purchasers should beware of worthless imitations, and plasters having a similar sounding nsire. AROMATIC TEETH. GUUS'BREATH Warranted fare, n arm lea an 1 Infallible Imparting the most Fragrant P-rfom to the breath (Ottar of Hoses and Sweet Myrrh), gives a healthy tone to the gums, ear. all s.re in the mouth, and oy tbe action of its tnUmpuo curative quaiiiiew, removes all on"t-usivnesftof the ores to, cleanses, beautifies and pru9rvs the Teeth; applied to decaf-d teeth, i. annihilates the pain almost Immediately. Indoraed bv the most Eminent Physician and DenUHts of Europe and America. It contains n Injurious ingredients, such as tised In othei preparations now in the market. Price tl per box (containing a large bottle Best V ah aud a box ot finest Powder). Hertt to an v address on reeelpt of prion. Mannfactarod by Kuropean BsJicylle MsdMae CeM of Paris and Ueipsir. Address Wash burnt, Console Agents. Onls importers- Liepot. w vim street, ntrw York U.S. a. r L a. For sale by Druggists, Perrumery and Fancy Uooda Dealers. lf OK AMOaTHA V WW. a, c, Ivsiaa AND FTpRKim - hcml tamt lor it-rot..'.-

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