Locomotive, Volume 46, Number 13, Indianapolis, Marion County, 13 November 1858 — Page 1
mm ELDER & HARKNESS, 'The Chariots shall rage In the streets, they shall seem like torches, they shall run like the lightnings." AaAum,i, 4. Printeis and Publishers.
VOL XLVI.
INDIANAPOLTS, IND SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1858.
NO 13.
THE LOCOIIIOT1VE PRINTED AND PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY : ELDER & HARKNESS, At thir Book and Job Printing Office, on Meridian Street, Indianapolis, Ind.. opposite the Post Office. TERMS One Dollara your. Twenty-live Cents for three months. Six conios to one address for one year, Five Dollars, thirteen conies one vear for Ten Dollars, TpiN advance in ai.l .'asks, j JI No paper will be sent until pmd for, and no paper will bVcontinued after the time paid for expires, unless "look o'n-r ron rut Com '.-All mall and county subscribers can know tholrtime isout hen Ihc.y see a larjrecaoss marked on thcirnai.er.and that is always the last paper sent until the subscription is renowed. v ; , . . , terms or uvtiTinN:
" Onesqiiuro, (H lines. or less. 250 mi,) for I week....' .i for each subsequentliisertion . for three months " for six months n .1 for one venr, without alterntio n " for one year, Willi frequent changes ... A .mull reduction innile on larger advertisements
and Special Notices double the above rates. Terms Cash. 1 ' Lesal advertMjmsnts published ..t the expense of the Attorneys ordering tlu in, and payment i, due when the .uh I ci .linn la made.' No extra charge made f..r furnishing affidavit of publication. We will not bo accountable Tor the accuracy of lcg:il artvertlsemel.ts. 1 ' TJAdvrTtir,mettmi be kandedin by Tknrtday of each vcck.orthey rrill be deferred until the next ittue.
n.sn 0 25 3.00 5.1X1 8.00 12.110 Cuts
IMC
IIIFItflVCD
S P E C T A C L.-E S ! TISK K K S T IN 'USE. . . rriHESR Glasses are '"' of THE PUREST MATKKI IA L I and ground upon SCIENTIFIC PKINCIPLfcS. And not o.Tlv give clear and distinct vision, but are highly endowed with U,e property of preserving the sight. Offlce-M. 8 VV est Washington street, up stairs.
0 0
5
-OF THE ' irc.it Western t'siet Steel I'lows, AT THE- " AI4ICI!rTUKAL.W'AKEt.OliSE, Under Matonic Hall, Indianapolil, Indiana, , BEA IC J SISIUX, Proprietors. HAVING recently lilted up a large Shop and Warehouse in Masonic Hall, wo are now prepared to offer to our friends and customers, and to the public generally, such in dacenienis as has never before been offered in the VVe.t, m regard to prices and quality of materials and workmanship. We have en hand a large quantity of our celebrated Great Western Cast Steel Plows of all sizes, from a one-horse Corn Plow to the largest size Koad Plow. We would respectfully ,h0 "e",n of Ff TET. all who are in want of furmii'.g implements, our stock before purchasing elsewhere, as we are confident that we can sell S en, hi. best improvements that cau be obtained in he try. and as we buy our material in large quantities from first hand., we are al.o prepared to offer great .nducen.ents m
prices. TTT3 A 1
. Jan23-3m
ibera! discount made to the trade.
BEAKU & SIKEX.
LASS & S I' O E W A K E I V. I'OT. T "WU OLES A IE.
100 West Washington Street, opposite me niavu nuu.ro.
I. declfl-lyl
C. M I ' K MAS, Commission Merchant.
F.
J. BALDWIM X U".,
J E W E:L E R S
' lo. 1 nates
mu VKF1IL FOK PAST FAVOKS, would respectfully beg
I leave to inform the public that they are still on nana wnn their usual full assortment of every thing in the way of Matches, Jewelry, Silver Ware, &c. We wish it distinctly understood that we do not keep the low "'-"" ' , i,irv: irotten ui for auction
Lies: but will guarantee to sell good, honest articles as low as
can possibly b ej ad elsewhere , .
""r. ' rt i. t w 'hat we represent them to be.
r T. . 1 1 twl Bra, nine for yourselves.
r '.',, h..,t WlT. hmaker in the country in our em
ploy; so bring on your Watches. . , feb-i-tl
rEKN JTl it E W A KEKOOITI JOI1N.VET T E K ,
..iji.n .. in Iteelv's Invincible Block,
5 DOOKS SOUTH OF POST OFFICE.
TrEEPS on hand all kindsof good and solid Furniture, which 14 t i i... i. rices. As Cabinet-maker and
TuTuer. he is prepared al any time to promptly execute all order, in his line of business. His factory is opposite the Madison . ler,ot. Everything done is warranted to be ill the neatest and
.most durable style. : : : '! aprl"-6in ( . ;
JOHN VETTKK.
ItEMOVEB.
W H. VA JEN has removed his New Store, No. 21, West
-I Wn.hiiortmi street, opposite Browning a i'ruB o.u.,
where he keeps conslantly on hand, the largest and
Best Assorted Stock of Hardware in the City,
at Iteduced Prices.
H.'h. ti rcived a large lot of Gum Belting, Rope and
.v ...... . . . Ci-..
Blocks: Axes, Nails. Locks, inngei
Shovels, Fine tutlery
, Polished Fire Setts, A mes'
aeca
J. BA11K,; Venitian Blind manufacturer,
i North f Court House, on Alabama street.
.j 3 Squares
Keeps constantly on hand Blinds for Dwelling Hou 3ru,,.l also makes to order Blinds for public or pri
Tate Buildings. . ' M. LONG, Agent !
he Posl Office
Venitian Blinds, on Meridian St., near
at his Furniture Wurorooin. jaiui
. . in returning his thanks to the Ladies an
I Gentlemen of this plac? and vicinity for their very lib I. fen,,Lm ... i .,111 bones to meet the same confidence u
K3 since he commenced the practice of his profession
1,1 1 'll'?"Trhi, from one to a full set, inserted on Platin.
Gold, or Silver.
t'art.c.nar auc..; ... j whe required
trnrting l eein J , cllrg.,, reasonable. Ofllce 2d story
Fletcher & Woolley's block, .No. 8 East Washington street Oct. 24-tf '
i, '.:-.. l. .tt.nl All CflVeil I" icki.i,'..k. MvU,ut, CA
j. r. ntLL.
O. GOLDSMITH.
B. Hill.
(
rillit ii1 Ornamental IXursery
r.HFnndcniened have established themselves in the Nurs rlnr.nn"r. jicj .. ltnown Nursery grounds formerl.
I ery. .' Ai.irpdpe. a few rods east of the corporation
nccaplco oy a. W( hayc on lmnd a ,,8,,,! SSoruneiit of
uiie. ilium..", ...ictiesas are best adapted to our sou and fruit ,rueV' are of the very best quality. .Also a very elimate T? nl' . 'nenlal Shr-bhcry. jrj We are now ready
to fllTaM orders promptly. Address, : HILL, GOLDSMITH CO.,
r . Indianapolis, Lnd
novT-'oT-tf
From the Knickerbocker Magazine of October. HE JASPER SIGNET.
FFICK. Harrison V""fronl
SurVfrom A , M. to M. ,; ,, nov,-
WALKING CAAES.
,.i received a large assortment of Gold, Silver AVE "J? headed canes, at msnufactiirer'sprice,, at V and Ivory"eaae,J V V. H. TALBOTT & CO'S, i ct2 3ra. ,
It was the dtisk of a summer evenine. I sat in my
chamber, piifUng my eetrar, and gazing listlessly into
le street. 1 saw the Mittinc; houres ot the passers-Dj',
and my neighbors over the way on their stoops, with
their children playing around them. Jlhe air was tull of confused sounds fragments of conversation, the patter of feet, and the rumble of distant wheels. It was not an unpleasant evening, I owned, but I was not in the mood to enjoy it. I took up my pistol, which lay on the table before me, and handling it curiously,
wondered it any thing would ever drive me to shoot
mvself."
It was a dark time in my life, the darkest, I thought,
lat I had ever seen. I was out of money, out ot
friends, out of hope. And, worst of all, my child, my darling little Ambrose, was sick. He lay in the next room in a raging fever; the folding-doors between us
were closed, but his low moans reached me, and strucK
pang to my heart.' From time to time through the
day I had sat by his bed-side, holding bis burning hands, but when evening came I couid bear it no longer : I was sick with pity. I took up a book to forget mysell, but I could not make sense of what I read;
my imnu would wander on in the middle ot a para
graph. How indeed could I forget the child, when everv thing in the room reminded me of him ? With-
each stood his rocking-horse ; his toys were scat
tered over the sofa. Under the edge of t he book-case
saw the toes of" his little shoes, and on the table lay a ilhercd posy, which he had gathered a day or two
before. It was only a bunch of wild flowers, and they were withered and dead, but I could not throw them
awav. 1 would have preserved even a weed, it ms
hand had touched it !
I sat and smoked until it grew too dark to see dis
tinctly. The neighbors withdrew into their houses, and lighted the lamps. The sounds in the streets died away, but the air was noisier than ever, for innumera
ble crickets were chirping. 4 Ah 1 well, said 1 with a
gh, there is no use in my sitting here idle any longer :
may as well go to work. ' I turned on the gas, and drew my table up to the
ioht. I have not mentioned, I believe, that I was an
author, but as I said I was poor, the acute reader may
have guessed it les, 1 was an author then, a poor
author, a miserable literary hack, turning my pen to
every thing." 1 was equally good (or bad at prose and noetrv. I wrote heavv articles for the reviews.
and fight paragraphs for the journals, to say nothing
ot sensation-romances for the weeklies ; and poetry tor
every thing. I had a poem to write that night, a comic poem ; the cuta with which it was to be illustrated, and which were supposed to be drawn for it, (of course
at a great expense !) lay before me, not yet transferred from Punch, touching the faded flowers of my sick
child. I pressed the posy to my lips, and breathing a
prayer for his recovery, took up my pen and began to write. The contrast between my circumstances and what I was writing a panegyric on wealth sharpened my wits. I rioted in a world of fantastic creations,
scattering iokes and puns broad-cast. ' There,' said I
after one of my brilliant coruscations, ' that will delight the editor of the Barbarian. The poor man thinks me funny.' I remembered the last poem that I had offered him, and smiled bitterly. It was a state-
and noble piece ot thought, yet he declined it, and
ordered the trash which I was then writing. I would
not have touched it but for my little Ambrose, but a
sick child must have a physician and nurse. ' And
hannv shall I be,' I thought, ' if it ends there P Walk
ing out that day I had seen a little collin in the window of an undertaker hard by, and now it came baek to
memory, and filled me with solemn forebodings, l imacined that I saw it on the table, with my child in
it. holdinsr the withered flowers in his folded hands
I laid down my pen and listened, but I could not hear him. ' Perhaps he is dead,' I whispered. The thought shock, and the tears rushed to mv eves. I
was certainly in nne trim tor writing a comic poem i
At that moment there was a tap ai tne aoor
Come in.' said I, dryinp- my eyes hastily. The door
opened, and in walked Arthur Gurney. I did not re-
cocnize him at first, for I had seen liim but once before,
and that was at a larn-e party : beside, my eyes were
dim with writing. But when he came to the light, I
remembered his face, and shook him by the hand.
' I see vou are at work, he said. ' If 1 am de iron,
sav so frankly, and I'll be ofl at once.
lion t, I replied ; x can spare an nour or iwo as
well as not' -
He seated himself in my arm-chair, and cast his eyes
around the chamber. I could not tell whether he was takinrr a mental inventory of my worldly goods and
possessions, or whether he was collecting his thoughts
before commencing conversation. ' Hooked at him in
tently for a few minutes, I knew not why, but I felt a strange fascination drawing me toward him. There
was a subtle communication, a mesmeric telegraph, as
it were, between us. His soul flashed messages to
mine mysterious messages in cipher, which I receiv-
ed and read, but could not understand. Had he been a woman instead of a man, I should have understood
his power over me. His face was pale and dehcately
cut ; his eyes were large and black. J.here was some
thing Spanish in his appearance, but no Spaniard could
have been so rair. A sentimental young lauy wouia have called him romantic-looking : but he would have
scorned that cheap distinction. He was a gentleman,
a noble rrentleman in cnef.
' Well,' said he, ' have you finished staring at me ?' I was not aware that he had noticed me, he appeared
so oblivious of mv presence.
' I beo- vour pardon, but I could not help it But
nrav. Mr. Gurnev I am sum you will not think me
ruJe to what am I indebted for the honor of this vis
1 Like you, I could not help it I sat alone in my room thinking of many things, when suddenly you p.ime into mV miud, and I thought I ought to come and
see you. It seemed to me that you could do something for me, or I for you, I knew not which. ' Can you help
, , ' '
' But what is the matter with you ? You appear well and well to do one of the sleek darlings of the world ; as Evelyn says in ' Money.' I will give you advice, if vou insist upon it, which I take to be a pretty
good proof of friendship. I will even write you an Ltln if vou think vour lady love can be won by
poetry. In short, I will do almost any thincr but lend you money ; that I cannot do. But that, I fancy, is the last thing that you would expect from me.' ' y . He shook his head. ' Have you any thing to dnnk ?'
The suddenness of the question matle me smde in spite
What will you have, Monsieur Gurney ? Chateau Mareeau, or Verzeney ? But perhaps you would like
son.e Hungarian wine, or iu uuuoiaajucig .
i Whatever vou have, air, whatever you have.
I remembered that I had a bottle of schnapps in the next room, and rose to get it I passed out into the
Lll ana rrrnned mv way along the entry until I reach-
A tlo rlnnr that led into the sick-chamber. There
n . hnrnino: in the corner when I entered.
Kr It shaded so effectually that I had to light a
match. The flask for which I came, standing in a lit-
tu ml,;n.t t r.h head of the bed, 1 moved on tip-toe
t Kofl.;,l and bent mv face close down to that
of the child. I could not see him distinctly, but I felt hia short, miick breath : it was like the blast of a fur-
hand ; he was consumed with fe.
ver. ' He is no better, Sir, the nurse whispered, 'but he is sleeping soundly, and so is his mother : she is worn out Turning mv eyes in the direction of the lounge,
I saw my wife stretched upon it I stole softly toward
her, and kissed her forehead, bhe moved her lips, mit no sound came ; she was breathing in sleep a silent prayer for her darling.
W hen l re-entered my chamber my heart was sad,
and so, seemingly, was that of Arthur Gurney, for his face was buried in his hands.
He roused himself with an effort, and taking a segar-
case from liis pocket, offered me a segar. I placed
the bottle and glasses on the table, and proceeded to twist a paper-lighter, but he anticipated me with the blank side of a letter, which, I noticed, was edged with black. As he bent forward to light it at the leader which hung between us, I saw a large ring on his finger an engraved seal-ring, with a curious setting.
Ihat is a strange rai" of yours, Mr. Gurney, 1 ob
served, after we had lighted our segars; may I look at itV
' Certainly,' and he handed it to me. 1 It was a jasper signet of large size. The stone was
remarkably fine, and apparently clear, but on scan
ning it closely, 1 saw that it wasllecked with red spots. They were small and dim, except where the stone had been engraved ; there they were larger and brighter. It was as if the stone had . been inserted in a bloody
foil, which had been pierced by the cutting. I could
not make out the cutting, whether it was a crest or
merely an initial letter. It was probably a cipher.
J.he workmanship of the setting, which was ot red
gold, betokened an early state of the art It was fantastic and rude, but quite in keeping with the stone,
the cipher ot which it repeated annd a variety ot cabbalistic characters. Had I met with it in the cabinet
of a colletor, I should have said it was the seal of some
magician of the middle ages.
Mr. Gurney had moved the bottle toward him, and
was filling his glass when I made a motion as if I would slip the ring on my finger. ' Stop !' ho said suddenly; ' what are you about ?' -
JUis tone was so abrupt and lierce that 1 stared at
him in surprise. ' You object to my trying it on ?' I
asked- '
'Indeed I do; it is unlucky.'
I handed liiin back the ring, a littled piqued by his
manner. ; i
' Fill your glass, and I will satisfy your curiosity con
cerning it lou must not be annoyed with me be
cause I prevented you from trying it on. It was on
your account, not my own.'
We touched our glasses, and he began.
' This ring has been in our family for generations.
I know not when, or by whom, the curse was entailed
upon us, but as far back as our records reach and we
have authentic documents reaching back five or six
hundred years we find it mentioned as one of the
heirlooms ot the race. It has come down from father
to son with all our broad lands and possessions, being
frequently specified in our ancient wills. Our lands
and possessions have passed away, as such things will
but the ring remains, as you see.- It has belonged at
times to various branches of the family men of widely different minds and temperaments. Some lived in
peacelul days, and died at a ripe old age ; others per
ished young, slains in battles or broils. Many fell by
their own hands, iiut it mattered not what was the
fortune of its possessor, he was the slave of the ring.'
' Hut m what sense t X inquired. " What vou have
related may be plain to you, but I must confess "it
vague to me. ; In what manner, and to whom, has the
ring been a curse r .
To all who have worn it, myself among the rest.
As to the manner of the curse, it has taken a thousand shapes. Some of us have been hurled from the pinnacle of wealth and power, others have been raised to
almost regal dignities. This was in the old time, when
we ranked among the nobility. In these later years
of buying and selling, our fortunes have been more stable the majority of the Gurneys are rich.'
' Then, you have one thing, 1 said, ' to counterbal
ance the curse of the ring. I would I had your wealth;
I lack nothing but that I have health and strength, a light heart, and a clear head. I have no inordinate desires, no impossible longings. I possess myself thor
oughly, my heart, my brain, my WUL i
' And yet you sigh lor wealth l lou must be mistaken in yourself; you are not so strong as you think.
What could money give you that you do not already
possess?' . . 1 1 . "
Many things, ir, said l bitterly, tinnKing oi my
past privations and present sorrows. ' It would give me the books that I need, the pictures that 1 love. I could build myself a cottage in the country, or, if I were fool enough, to desire it, a palace in Parvenu
Square. I could go to Jiurope, to .London, rans, or Home.' '. : ; ; :' ;'
'Any thingelse?' 1 '- ' Yes,' I answered sharply, provoked by his cool- . . 1. I,, .i . i-i- o .i "u
ness, ' l could proDapiy save me me oi my cmiti.
I had forgotten that you were married, JUr. Iracy.
Tell me of your.wife and child.' i
He spoke kindly, tenderly even, but 1 repulsed him.
There is nothing to tell, save that my child is sick, perhaps dying.' : . . : : ' ' . . '
1 oor leliow. lie ieii into a urown stuuy, iwming the iasoer signet in liis fingers.
i ' I gather from what you say,' I resumed, 4 that you think the Gurnev family an unlucky one, but yonhave
not told me what the ring has to do with it 1 am not
disnosed to admit in human affairs either the caprici
ous interference of Fortune, or the iron despotism of
Fate ; still less can 1 admit the influence ot so tnvial
a thino' as a lasper signet. I can imagine that vour
ancestors were fooled or terrified into such a supersti
tion in the age. of astrology, but it is unworthy ot you,
and this age of enlightenment. If your family has been
unfortunate, Mr. Gurney, it is because some member
of it has transmitted some weakness to his descendants.
lould wear this jasper signet, I should cease to be
Richard Tracy?'
' ho runs the tradition. ' I have no faith in traditions, and to show you that
have not, I will, with vour permission, wear the ring
until we meet again. Shall I?'
By no means. If not for your own sake, for that
of your wife and child, beware of the jasper signet.
lou could not help me by knowing and sharing my
lot. It would increase your misery, while it would not
ghten mine. I must meet my doom alone. Be con
tent as you are, for no exchange that you could make
would benefit you. Leave all to OOP and time.
It was late that night when we parted. 1 followed
iin to the door to get a breath of air. The night
wind was sweet and fresh, breathing of the green woods and the salt sea. It flowed around us as we stood on the stoop, laying its cool fingers in benediction on our heated brows.
' Good night, and pleasant deams, Arthur Gurney.' ' Farwcll, and a long lite, Richard Tracy.' We shook hands and ho departed. I lingered a
moment and watched his retreating form. It was a
bright night, and I saw him for some distance, now
growing dim as he entered the shadows of the trees, and now becoming distinct as lie crossed the spaces of
moon-shine. He turned the corner, and 1 saw him
no more, save in his shadow, which trailed like a dark pillar behind him. It disappeared, and the sound of
lis steps died away. I locked the door and returned
to mv work, .
The visit of Arthur Gurnev, unexpected though it
was, was of service to me. It kept me from thinking too much of my sick child, and it rested my weary mind. I could not have finished my task that night but for his interruption. I matured my plan as I talked with him, and worked it out as I listened.
When he arrose to depart I was within a few lines of
the end. There was nothing to do but to write down
what I had composed some twenty or thirty lines in all and give the whole an epigrammatic turn. I seized my pen and dashed it hurriedly across the pa
per, making a series ot hieroglyphics, which would
have delighted Champolhon or layard.
It was soon finished, and 1 proceeded to put the
table in order, piling up the books and arranging the papers in my porfolio. In so doing, I happened to move my pistol, when I discovered the jasper signet,
which Arthur uurney had lett, whether through torgettulness or design I never knew. I took it cautiously between my thumb and finger, as one might take
some strange instrument of death, and held it close to
the light. It looked quaint and curious, as an old sig
net-ring should, but by no means dangerous and for
midable. The ciphers in the setting were unchanged;
the stone was as clear as ever. 1 saw no difference
in it, except that the blood-spots appeared a little red
der and larger, but that might have been my fancy.
It is true that I felt somewhat nervous as I handled it,
but any imaginative person would have felt so after
listening to the strange narative ot Arthur liurney
1 How absurd that poor fellow was,' I said, 4 to talk
as he did about this poor, old harmless ring. It must have been the Byronic beveragae that he drank, for
certainly no man would believe such nonsense in his sober senses. If you wear the ring,' .he said, 'you
will lose vour identity. 1 ve a mind to try it. .Am
I put it on my finger.
'The fault, dear Brutus, is not in onr stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.1
' As vou please : I did not expect you to believe me
But the facts are the same nevertheless. None of our
family have ever been happy,' or' ever will be. Wretchedness is our doom. Our motto should be
Wiserrimus.' our crest a bleeding heart We are rich
but we take no pleasure in our riches. ,, We are lov.
inrr. but we are seldom loved, or what we love dies.
In short, we are miserable, thanks to the jasper signet.
'In the name ot common-sense, then, 1 exclaimed,
' why keep it among you ? , Why not destroy it, or give it away ? You can powder it in the fire, I pup-
nose, or throw it into the sea t It will burn, or sink.
' It will do neither, sagacious poet For one of my
ancestors who dabbled in alchemy a century or two
a"0, baffled in his search lor the Philosophers stone.
the impossible Aurum 1'oia.uue, wreaked nis vengeance on the ring, which he conceived to be the cause of his disappointment, and threw it into his crucible at a white Ill lil -. li-ii-, JA
heat It would nave meiteo granite, dui it iaueu w consume the jasper signet, for when the fire died out it was found uninjured ; the setting was not even tarnished. Another member of the family my Uncle Bernard dropped it into the Tiber, but it came back to him, like the ring of Polycrates.' ; ; ' But you could give it away,' I persisted. ' It has been given away many times, but it has brought so much misery on its new owner, that he has always returned it to the giver.' , 'Suppose you should give it to me, how would it affectme?' .' ' : ' ' : ' You would not believe me if I should tell you.' . Try me.': - ' It would make you rich.' . ' Come, I should like that' . .. I But it would rob you of your identity.' ' That is impossible.' i T said vou would not believe me.'
' Do yon mean to tell me, Arthur Gurney, that if I into tears.
As it slipped down, joint after joint, the most sing
ular sensation came over me. At first a sharp uiritl
ran through my frame, begimng at my heart, and pulsing outward like the waves of an electric sea. This was followed by a sudden tremor of the nerves, which ended in an overpowering faintness. What took place next I knew not, for when I recoverd I had no remembrance that any thing unusual had hap
pened. 1 How could I have, when my identity was gone ? I awoke in a richly-furnished chamber. The light of the chandelier was turned on full, and I saw every thing as clearly as if it had been day. The walls were hung with beautiful pictures the master-pieces of the finest modern masters, Schcffer, Delaroche, and
Horace Yernet, with here and there a choice impression of the rarest engravings by Raphael Morgon. But the Gem of the collection vs a pair of Turners a morning and evening at sea. ' In the one you saw a
noble oarge, crowded witn ioras ana lauies, nying Defore the wind, with her sails all set and her streamers
flying; in the other, the fragments of a wreck, drifting over a measureless sea: the sun was just plunging in
the gloomy waves, a world of fire and blood 1 The
mantle was loaded with Sevres vases, and rich ornaments of ormlou and bronze, and tables of rose-wood
and ebony were strewn with objects of virtu. ' High-
backed gothic chairs, covered with royal brocade,
were scattered around. I might describe the soft car
pets and the tufted rugs; the heavy-hanging damask
curtans, with their fluted, pillar-like folds; the brilliant
mirrors reaching from iloor to ceiung; but to what end l
It is enough -to say that' 1 was in the chamber ot the rich and voluptuous Arthur Gurney. I was 'Arthur
Gurney I . "
1 sat in a lanteuil, holding in my nana a lauy s
miniature. It was that ot my Cousin Beatrice, cue
was as fair as an angel, but a deep sadness had settled on her face, shading its beauty and brightness. She
was pale and ghost-like, with thin spiritual lips, and
earnest but melancholy eyes. How beautiful, il sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than beauty's self.'
' I took from my pocket a letter. It was the fatal
letter from England, telling me of my cousin's death,
f Here,' I murmured, poring over the miniature, 'here
is mv dear Beatrice as I saw her a little month ago,
the sweetest soul that ever tabernacled in clay; and here.' looking at the letter, 'is that which tells me I
shall see her no morel How could she die, when I needed her so much? She was my hope, my life, the onlv thing that I loved. . How weak and unmanly
Tracv was, to repine as he did to-night! He has a
wife that loves him, and a child his child, and he
a little angel, still in the light of Heaven. But I am
alone, alone! Were Beatrice living, my Beatrice
my beloved, my betrothed, my wife, I would not
shrink Ironi poverty as he does, but would battle witn
it rovallv, crowned with the great diadem ot love
But it is too late ! it is too late ! There is nothing left
me but to die! I crumpled the letter in my hand, and kissed the miniature of Beatrice for the last time. As I rose I caught sight of my face in the mirror. It was haggard, and ghastly pale. ' Come, come, Arthur Gurney, be firm; it will not do to play the woman now.' I strode un to the mirror, as I have seen men do when excited
by wine, and took a long look at myself. . How black my hair was! and what a wild light glared in my sunkeyes! .'Good-by, Arthur Gurney!'. I smiled and walked to the window. -The sky was sown with stars, and the full moon hung over the tops of the trees. ' Farewell, O moon, and stare, and summer night! a long farewell! '
I cocked my pistol and placed it to my heart 'Beatrice, I shrieked, I come.' My finger was on the trigger another second and I would have been in Eternity. But suddenly my hand was seized, and a woman's shriek rang in my ear: 'Richard." I struggled violently, determined not to be balked in my C , l i ik ii., fM 'Tf A
purpose. nicnara i mcnara : x neeueu ner not,, but tore off the hand that held me. At that moment
the jasper signet dropped from my finger, and the charm was broken. I was no longer Arthur Gurney, but Richard Tracy! I was saved from death by my -wife, who come into the room to tell me that my child was better. "' The doctor has been here, dear husband, and he says that the crisis is past. " Our little Ambrose will live.' I threw mv Self into her arms and burst
4 Look at the watch, Bessv,' said I, trembling at my narrow cscajie, ' and note the time carefully, for Arthur Gurney is dead. He died to-night, and by his own hand.' It was evan so. For in the morning he was found in his chamber dead, with a bullet through his heart 1 His wateh was in his pocket, stopped I It pointed to the very minute when Bessy arrested my handl , A IIeneby. A Mr. DeSora, possessor of an old dilapitated estate near Paris, having discovered the secret of making hens lay every day in the year by . feeding them with horse-flesh, raw and minced, bethought him of going into the fresh egg business on a large scale. This estate was just what he wanted in the way of grounds, and its proximity to Paris assured him of a ready market - He began his experiment with three hundred hens, and found that they averaged the first year some twen ty-dozen eggs each. Last season he had one hundred thousand hens at work, with a fair proportion of male birds, and the proportionate result was the same. The slieds, ollices, and other building are aiound a quadrangle, inclosing about twenty acres, the general feeding ground. This is'sub-divided by fences of open paling, so that only a limited number of fowls are allowed to herd together, and these are ranged indifferent apartments, according to their age ; no bird being allowed to exceed four years. At the end of the fourth year, they aro placed in the fattcning-coops for about three weeks, fed entirely on crushed grain, and sent to Paris alive. . . . . -. The breeding rooms are warmed by steam, and the heat is kept up with remarkable uniformity to that evolved by the female fowl during the process of incubation, which is known to mark higher on the thermometer than at any other period. A series of shelves', one above the other, form the nests, while blankets are spread over the eggs to exclude any accidental light The hatched chickens are removed to the nursery each morning, and fresh eggs laid in to supply the place of empty shells. ; A constant succession ot chick
ens is thus insured, and, moreover, the feathers are always free from vermin. , ......
A hen is never allowed to set. The males and fe
males mingle freely at all seasons. All the Shanghai,
Cochin China, and other fancy fowls have been got
rid of, as the old-fashioned barn-yard breed is found to be more cheaply and easily raised, and to give better
eggs anu nesu.
lo supply the great consumption of meats, the nu
merous disabled and worn-out horses in and around Paris are depended on. They are neatly and scien
tifically slaughtered at M. DeSora s own abattoir. The blood is sold for art purpose. The tanners buy the skins. The glue-makers and manufacturers of Prussian blue get the heads, hoofs, shanks, &e. The buttons-makers buy the larger bones. The agricultural merchants take the remainder of the bones for bonedust, or ivy block making. The marrow is made into fashionable ointments, lip-salves, &c.'Even the entrails are put to use The flesh is cut into certain proportions, passed through a series of revolving knives, and comes out in the shape of a mountain of mincemeat, which is slightly seasoned with salt and groundpepper the hens are epicures, it appears then put into barrels, headed up, and sent per railroad to the henery. "There it is kept in store-rooms, the temperature of which is just below the freezing point all the year round, and thus the mince-nieat is neverTour or offensive. The fowls eat it with avidity, are always in good condition, and the liens lay each an egg almost every day, in all weathers and seasons. They have, besides, plenty of pure water, with gravel and sand. , The average consumption of horses per day is twenty-two, and so well arranged is the system, that the
proceeds ot the sale ot the hides, bones, sc., make a
profit on the original cost of the horses. Another item of profit is the manure from the fowl-yard, which is eagerly sought for by the gardeners in the neighbor
hood. , : . ... I
About one hundred person?, mostly females, are em
ployed in the different departments of the henerv.
'fK c i. i :
aiic cApcnsu vi tuu ebutuusiiuiein, iiiciuuuig repairs, interest, &c, amount to $75,000 per annum. Tho sales of eggs last winter were forty thousand dozen a week, at four francs for six dozen, or $5,000 per week, which is $250,000 per annum. So that Mr. DeSora can both cluck and crow over his hens, that bring him in a clear revenue of nearly $175,000 a year. What would old Noah say to this, could he be shown one hundred thousand hens all together, having one hundred thousand eggs at at once ! His ' pair in the ark would be noah-where, and he fain to confess himself a noah-nothing. , ' FRANKLIN'S MAXIMS. ' The following from the pen of the great American philosopher, Dr. Franklin, should be printed in letters of gold and hung up in every school room, side by side with the usual a b c dog latin, and other nonsense with which our children's minds are crammed, and which seems to be the rule in our modern system of tuition. .: !-.... '1 There will be a time when a professorship of political economy will be considered as absolutely necessa4 ' ry to every school, but that time is not yet. At present we have nothing but profusion and shameful waste,' on the one hand, while abject poverty, meanness of spirit and total carelessness, is too much observed on the other. These are the two extremes, which characterize our false state of things in a physical point of view all laid to the score of false training, from the highest to the lowest. But hear what "Poor Richard" says: , . 1. Plough deep, while sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn both to sell and to keep. . ; 2. Pride is as loud a beggar as want and a great deal more saucy. i ; 3. Silks and satins, scarlets and velvets put out the( kitchen fire. - . m i 4. Diligence is the mother of Good Luck. , ,, 5. Pride breakfasted with Plenty, dined with Tover-j ty, and supped with Infamy. . ; : " 6. Extravagance and improvidence end at the prison door. :
7. It is easier to build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel. - ' 8. If you would know the value of money go and try to borrow some. , , . 9. The eye of a master will do more work than both' his hands. J -. - - 1 10. What maintains one vice would bring up two, children. 11. He that goes borrowing, returns sorrowing. 'J 12. Rather go to bed supperless than rise in debt: ,i 13. Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labor, wears. 14. A lite of leisure and a life of laziness are two different things. ' " '" " 1 -.. 15. Three removes are as bad as& fire. ; i 'I 1G. Creditors have better memories than debtors.
The rolling stone gathers no moss. . ; If you would have your business done, go; if not,
17. 18. eend. 19.
It is foolish to lay out money in the purchase of
repentance. . " 1 ' ' 1 . ! 20. Buy what thou needest not and it will oblige. thee to sell thy necessaries. . " These maxims of Dr. Franklin," says a cotemporary, " though often printed, lose nothing by repe-: titioiu" -;:. . ' ' ' . 1 Woman's Constant Torment. Dust. Man's GreatkstPi.aouk. A -woman continually! brushing the same. ' '