Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 June 1876 — Page 3

TO coiißMPenDEm All commDiilcatlODl for Mil* p*por thoul.l to t»»mBulled by the name of the author; not neeeeaarUy for {yobUoation, but aa an evidence of gt»d faith on the part of the writer. Write only on one eldo of the paper. Be particularly careful In mrin* nanieasnddaiei to have the letter* and flfure* plain and dlatlnct. Proper names are often dlfllcnlt to decipher, beeauao of the careless manner In which they are written.

HOW THE OLD HORSE WON THE BET. OLITKK VIHSIU HOMKs’ COMPANION PIICS TO i TUB “ ONB-HOHB BHAT.” [Dedicated "by * Contributor to the Colleaian, IHMU, to the Editor* of the Harvard Advocate, 1806-%; Read at Their Decennial Dinner, May U, im] 'Twn* on th£ fkmoug troU.lnp;-|rround, The betting men were gathered round From far and near; the “ crack*” were there Whose deed* the Hportlng prints declare: The swift g. m.. Old Hiram'swag, The fleets, h., Dan Pfeiffer’s brag, WitU theße a third.—end who la he That stands beside his fast b. g.? Budd Doble, whose catarrhal name So fills the nasal trump of fame. There, too, stood many a noted steed Of Messenger and Mbrgan breed; Green horses also, not a few— Unknown as yet what they could do; And all the hacks that know so well The sconrgings of the Snnday swell. Bine are the skies of opening day; The bordering tnrf Is green with May; The sunshine's golden gleam Is thrown On sorrel, chestnut, bay and roan; The horses paw and prance and neigh, Fillies and colu like kittens play And dance and toss their rippled manes Shining and soft as silken skeins; Wagons and gigs are ranged abont, And fashion flaunts her gay turn out; Here stands—each youthful Jehu’s dream— The jointed tandem, ticklish team I And there in ampler breadth expand The splendors of the four-in-hand; On faultless ties and glossy tiles The lovely honnetß beam their smiles fThe style’s the man, so books avow; The style’s the woman, anvhow); From flounces frothed with creamy lace Peeps ont the png-dog’s smutty face, Or spaniel rolls his liquid eye, Or stares the wiry pet of Skye— O woman. In your honrs of ease So shy with us, so free with these I “ Come on! I’ll bet von two to one I’ll make him do it t” “Will yon? Done?” What was jt who was bound to do? I did not hear and can’t tell you— Pray listen till my story’s through. Scarce noticed, hack behind the rest. By cart and wagon radely prest. The parson’s lean and bony bay Stood harnessed in h's one-horse shay— Dent to his sexton for the dav. (a funeral—so the sexton said; His mother’s uncle’s wife was dead.)Like Lazarus bid to Dives’ feast. So looked the poor, forlorn old beast; Hit coat was rough, his tail was bare, The gray was sprinkled in his hair; Sportsmen and jockeys knew him not. And yet they say he once coold trot Among the fleetest of the town, Till something cracked and broke him down— The steed’s, the statesman’s, common loti “ And are we then so soon forgot?” Ah me! I doubt if one of you Has ever heard the name “ Old Bine.” Whose fame through all this region rung In those old days when I was young 1”

* Bring forth the horse 1” Alas! he showed Not Hire the one Uazeppa rode: ScantMnaned, sharp-backed, and shaky-kneed, The wreck of what was once a steed, Lips thin, eyes hollow, stiff in joints; Yet not without his knowing points. . 1 ' .'v: " The sexton, laughing in his sleeve As if 'twere all a make-believe, Led forth the horse, and as he langhed Unhitched the breeching from a shaft, Unclasped the rnst.v belt beneath, Drew forth the snaffle from hie teeth, Slipped off his headstall, set him free From strap and rein—a sight to see! „ So wern, so lean in every limb, It can't be they are saddling him 1 It is! his back'the pig-skin strides And flaps his lank, rheumatic sides; With look of mingled scorn and mirth They buckle round the saddle-girth; With horsey wink and saucy toes A youngster throws his leg across; And so, his rider on bis back. They lead him, limping, to the track, Far up behind the starting-point. To Umber out each stiffened joint. As through the jeering crowd he passed, One pitying look old Hiram cast; “ Go it, ye cripple, while ye can I” Cried out unsentimental Dan; A Fast-Day dinner for the crows 1” Budd Doble’s scoffing shout arose. Slowly, as when the walking-beam First feels the gathering bead of steam, With warning cough and threatening wheeze The stiff old charger crooks his knees, At first with.cantlous step sedate, As if be dragged a coach of state; He’s not a colt; he knows full well That time is weight and sure to tell; No horse so sturdy but he fears The handicap of twenty years. As through the throng on either hand The old horse nears the judges’ stand, Beneath his Jockey’s feather-weight He warms a little to his gait. And now and then a step is tried That hints of something like a stride. Go!”—Through his ear the summons stung As if a battle trump had rung; The slumbering instincts long unstirred Start at the old familiar word; It thrills like flame through every limb— What mean his twenty years to him? The savage blow his riderflealt Fell on his hollow flanks unfelt; The spur that pricked his staring hide Unheeded tore his bleeding side; Alike to him are spur and rein— He steps a five-year-old again 1 Before the quarter-pole was past, Old Hiram said, “ He’s going fast.” Long ere the quarter was a half, The chuckling crowd had ceased to laugh; Tighter his frightened jockey clung As in a mighty stride he swung, The gravel flying in lfis track. His neck stretched out, his ears laid back, His tail extended all the while Behind him like a rat tall file 1 Off went a shoe—away It spun, Shot Htwabttllet awns i|»ii --.,-^..,1.-.; The quaking jockey shapes a prayer From scraps of oaths he used to swear; He drops Bni'whlp, he drops his rein, He clutches fiercely for a mane; He’ll lose hiß hold—be sways and reels— He’ll slide beneath those trampling heels! The knees of many a horseman quake, The flowers on many a bonnet shake, And shouts arise from left and right, “Stick on! stick on!” “ Hould tight! Hould tight 1” “ Cling round his neck, and don’t let go— That pace can’t hold—there! steady! whoa!” But like the sable steed that bore The spectral lover of Lenore. His nostrils snorting foam and fire. No stretch his bony limbs can tire; And now the stand he rushes by, And “Stop him!—stop him I” is the cry. Stand back 1 he’s only juat begun— He’s having out three heats in onel “ Don’t rush in front! he’ll smash your brains; But follow up and grab the reins!” Old Hiram spoke. Dan Pfeiffer heard, And sprang impatient at the word; Budd Doble started on his bay, Old Hiram followed on his gray, And off they spring, ana round they go, The fast ones doing ** all they know.” Look I twee they follow at his heels. As round She circling course he wheels, And whirls with hint that clinging boy Like Hector round the walls of Troy; Btill on, and on, the third time round t They're tailing off! they’re losing ground! Budd Doble’s nag begins to fail! Dan Pfeiffer’s sorrel whisks his tail! And seel In spite of whip and shont, Old Hiram's mare is giving out 1 Now for the finish I at the tarn. The old horse—ail the rest astern— Comes swinging in, with easy trot t jjy Jove I he’s all tho lot! That trot no mortal could explain; — — Some said, “Old Dutchman come again!’ Bome took his time—at least they tried, But what it was could none decide;. One said he couldn't understand What happened to bis second hand; One said 8:10; that couldn't be— More like two twenty twe or three; Old Hiiam settled ltfft last; “ The time was two—too mighty fast!” The parson’s horse had won the bet; It cost him something of a sweat;.. Back in the one-bone sbey he went; The parson wondered whet it meant. And murmured, with e mild surprise And pleasant twinkle of the eyes,

” That funeral mast have been a trick. Or corpses drive at double-quick; I shouldn't wonder, I declare. If Brother Murray made the prayer I” And this 1* all I heve to toy About the person’s poor old hay. The same that drew the one boras shay. Moral for which this tale i* told: A horse can trot, for all he’s old. —Atlantic Monthly for July.

TWO BRAVE WOMEN.

You know there is a building on the Centennial grounds designed expressly for the exhibition of woman’s work, to show what women have done and can do. Now lam going to tell you what two voung women tfid for their country 100 years ago—a true story which deserves to be better known than it is, and which will have no record in the Woman’s Department of the Centennial. But first let us get out the map and find the old town of Machias— Majait the French called it—in the eastern part of Maine. More than two centuries ago this place was well known to English and French adventurers, and was the scene of many bitter quarrels between them. It was first settled by the French, who gave all that part of Maine the beautiful name of Acadia. Soon after the battle of Lexington, which you remember was fought on the 19th of April, 1775, a certain Capt. Jones, of Boston, arrived at Machias with his two sloops. He was in the habit of “trading” with the Machias people; that is, exchanging the goods ana provisions he carried there for lumber. This time he did not come alone, but was accompanied by an armed schooner, and he was careftil not to land his goods till the people agreed to trade with him as usual. Probably this very caution made them suspicious; and then it was not pleasant to see a British cutter anchored in theirriver. They knew that lumber was just what the Royal troops needed for their barracks; the affair at Lexington had aroused all their Satriotic ardor; and they determined that apt. Jones should never return to Boston with his vessels. To understand what this decision cost them, we must remember that the settlers were wholly dependent on “lumbering” lor support. To be sure,, the men did not have to make long journeys on their sleds into the forests and there camp out for the winter, as the lumbermen of Maine do now. Every year these logging parties go merrily off to their rough life in the woods, at night sleeping on spruce boughs laid upon the floor of the camp, their feet turned to a roaring fire, with sometimes wolves to serenade their si umbers; living largely on pork and molasses, frying bushels of doughnuts at a time, boiling their tea in great tei-kettles, and having rather a jolly time of it, especially when their townsmen go to make them a visit, as they sometimes do.

- But then there were woods everywhere about the settlement, whioh was at a great distance from any large town; and as there were no roads, the only way to get relief in a time of need was by water, and this way could be easily cut off by an enemy. Except a scanty supply of potatoes, no vegetables were raised there; and the people owned very few cows, and only enough oxen to haul lumber in winter. Many families often had nothing but clams to eat for weeks at a time, and when Capt. Jones’s sloops arrived there were no t enough provisions in the township to last three weeks. But rather than let King George’s troops have any of their lumber, these destitute people made up their minds to starve. So they agreed to take possession of the sloops and of the “ Margaretta” also, the story of whose capture has been told too often to repeat here. A company of volunteers was organized on Sunday, the 11th of June,* but only a few charges of powder and ball could be mustered for twenty fowling-pieces. Besides these, they had only thirteen pitchforks and ten or twelve axes. Theafe weapons seem barbarous enough to us; and you remember the red-coats thought so, too, and longed for foemen worthy of their steel when they saw our rustic soldiery. But they found afterward that a brave heart and steady purpose were more than a match for the deadliest firearms. There was not much time to talk the matter over, and a man was quickly sent to Jonesboro, a settlement some sixteen miles distant, for ammunition. But after this messenger reached his destination he actually refused to return! Very likely he felt tired after his long walk through the woods, aud his courage gave out. As there was no other man to take his place, all the Jones boro men having gone to Machias that very day to assist in the capture of the vessels, no wonder the women were filled with indignation at this treachery, and set to work to see what they could do. It always happens that where there’s a will there’s a way; and Hannah Weston, a young bride of seventeen, whose husband and brothers were among the volunteers, went round to the various houses in the settlement and collected all the powder, lead and pewter spoons she could find. Then she aud her sister Rebecca, who was only two years older, determined to carry the ammunitibH to Maehias them' selves. They started on their rough tramp Monday morning, with about forty pounds of powder and lead, enough bread and meat to last two days, and a small hatchet. All the women ana children gathered to see them off; meantime the one man in the settlement, tho recreant messenger, was hiding in the woods for fear of the “Britishers”! We may be sure that his behavior earned the bitter contempt of the women who were left behind, and that they did not treat him very tenderly when he made himself visible. You see there were cowards even in those brave days. When half the toilsome journey was over, Rebecca’s strength failed, and Mrs. Weston relieved her of her burden, carrying the whole load herself the rest of Ihe way. There was no road, and indeed no path, through the dense pine forests. But the men who passed through the woods the day before had “ spotted” a tree here and there, and these faint marks were our heroines’ only guides through the wilderness. When they lost their way, which happened to them more than once, they sat down on the trunk of some fallen tree to rest and refresh themselves with iood, and then kept bravely on. After wandering several miles out of their way, they at length reached the Machias River, and decided to follow its course down to the settlement. As the Indians were often seen »n the river in canoes, and frequented its banks for game, our travelers kept at a safe distance from the stream. But there was little to fear from the red men; and indeed nothing saved Machias in those stormy days hut the friendliness of the Indians. After dusk, after crossing brooks and wading through muddy swamps, they came to the foot of a high hill, and, not knowing where they were, threw themselves wearily down to rest. There in the gathering twilight they heard the moum-

ful owls hooting, and the distant barking of wolves. At length Mrs. Weston, picking up a stout stick for a cane, climbed the hill alone, and from the top joyfully discovered the houses of Machias. Tying her handkerchief to a bush, that she might again find the spot, she hastened back to Rebecca. But the tired girl had fallen into a heavy sleep, and it was only after a vigorous shaking that her sister was able to arouse her. They arrived at Machias before dark, completely exhausted, with their clothes half torn from them, and learned that the Margaretta had already been captured. However, they were so glad to hear the good news that they did not regret what they had done, ana though the ammunition was not needed then, it proved very useful when the British afterward attacked the town. The next day, to show that their services were appreciated, the Committee of Safety made the two brave women a present of twelve yards of camlet, worth about eight dollars; and thiß was considered at that time a large sum. Two dresses were made of this cloth, and fifty years afterward a fragment of her camlet gown was carefully preserved by Mrs. Weston, as a memento of her perilous journey. A great many years after this, when Mrs. Weston must have been nearly eighty years old, her son, who is still living in Jonesboro, went to a lawyer in Machias (from whose lips I had the story), told him about his mother’s adventure, and asked him to get a pension for her from the Government This could not be done, for the law gave no pensions to women unless they were soldiers’ widows; but surely this heroine of the Revolution deserved a pension. She lived to be nearly 100 years old, and when she was ninetyfive she carded wool, spun the yarn, and knit it into a pair of stockings, without the aid of glasses, to be exhibited at the World’s Fair in New York. It is interesting to know that this woman was a descendant of the famous Mrs. Dustan, who was taken captive by the Indians at Haverhill, Mass., in 1697, and whose thrilling story is familiar to all students of American history. So it is very likely, as her friends have suggested, that Hannah Weston may have inherited some of her pluck and fortitude from her great-grandmother.— Mary P. Thacker , in Christian Union.

Hanging in Fun.

Some little stir was created last evening in the southern end of the city by a foolish but nearly iatal freak played by a woman named Christina Carney. She is the wife of Torrence Carney, a cartman or teamster, who, with his wife, who is a Swede, removed to this city from Leavenworth about three weeks ago. The domestic life of this pair appears to have been anything but happy. Torrence loves whisky better than he loves his wife, and since they took up their abode in an old shell-like house on O. K. creek he has neglected to furnish the means of living. His wife has made a living by washing and house-cleaning and other labor. In the old house where Carney and his wife reside there is a family of Germans, with whom Mrs. Carney was quite intimate. Yesterday evening this family heard Mr. and Mrs. Carney quarreling more violently than ever, and as Torrence left the house his wife told him she would kill herself if he did not return. He turned and bade her “Kill and be hanged,” and went on his way to his evening’s spree. His wife, with a view to frightening him into better conduct, prepared a rope, and, throwing it over a door, tied the end to a door knob, and prepared the other end for her own neck. It was her intention to have hung herself “just a little” when her unkind husband was entering the house. She waited until she heard him coming up stairs, when she climbed upon a chair and putting the rope on her neck kicked it from beneath her. Unluckily for her, Torrence changed his mind about going into the room and started down stairs again, leaving his foolish wife in the agony of strangulation. Fortunately her hands were free and her muscles strong, or she would have consummated her own death. Her kicking and struggling attracted the attention of one of the children down stairs, who ran in and seeing the situation j)f affairs called for help. When cut down, Mrs. Carney was insensible and in the last stages of strangulation. Her brutal husband, when informed a few minutes afterward that his wife had hung herself, said: “ Well, let her hang; she’s played that game on me before in worth.” At nine o’clock last night the woman was in a fair way of recovery. §he is no doubt cured of a very dangerous habit; but then it is difficult to say who is most to blame, the foolish wife or the brutal husband. —Kansas City (Mo.) Times.

A Fight With a Shark.

The Pensacola (Fla.) Gazette of a recent date has the following account of an exciting adventure: Capt John B. Guttmann, of the Pensacola Guards, signalized himself in an odd encounter last Friday and came out first best. Riding down to the shore of Escambia Bay, the Captain noticed a strange commotion in the water, and that the beach for a considerable distance was covered with fish from six inches to a foot and a balf in length, some dead and some still jumping, while others continued to spring from the water, above which showed the sharp dorsal fin of a shark, cutting the surface as he pursued the fish. The sporting spirit of the Captain was fired, and springing from his buggy he opened his pocket-knife, with a blade less than three inches long, and rushed into the water; which was thigh-deep, where he encountered the shark, and pushed his little knife into itr The creature did not seem to feel it, and its hide was so tough that the Captain could not rip it, so he continued his thrusts, while the shark endeavored to turn so as to seize him. Finally the shark felt the blade, and, retreating twelve or fifteen feet, charged buck with a rush. The Captain sprang aside as it attempted to bite him, ana seized it by the fin, which was ten inches long, and plied his knife while they waltzed round, the shark continually turning in the endeavor to bile. Finding his knlfe of no avail against the nine lives of the shark, the Captain caught up a short, heavy piece of drift-wood, which opportunely came within reach, and as the' fish threw its head out of water, struck it a severe blow at the base of the skull whioh instantly stunned it. He then threw it ashore, where it was dispatched. It was exactly five feet in length. In the earliest stages of the conflict Capt. G. ’s three companions, ? who were oft In the woods at Us beginning came out on the bluff and called out in alarm: ”It’s a shark! come out of the water!” That Prussian gave his lips their usual twist and simply said, “ I know it,” and went on withnis amusement, which he says is almost equal to some fun hehas had with ’ bears and bull bisona, numbers of both of which he has slain.

Dying Hindus and the Ganges.

In her interesting sketohes of “ The Orient and Its People,” Mrs. Hauser describes the mode of disposing of thedr dead, which is practiced by the Hindus. The Ganges is considered a sacred river, and its waters are belieted to possess the power <of healing the sick, sanctifying the souls of the dyiug, and cleansing the bodies and the souls of the well from all impurities. It is the longing of every faithfd! Hindu, when his final summons shall come, to pass from the earth to the land of the spirits with his feet submerged in the blessed water of this river, and with its mud filling his mouth, ears aud nostrils. Thousands of the sick and dying are annually borne to its shores in their last moments, that they may have the assurance of immortality through a death in its etnbrace. After "life has departed, the bodies of the Hindus ere burned on the banks' of the Ganges, and the ashes are thrown into the stream, or they are placed on a raft, having a lighted lamp at each corner, and are pushed out into the current, while the relatives watch the floating coffin with eager eyes, until it sinks beneath the water, or the crocodiles make a mouthful of it. “During the dry season,” says Mrs. Hauser, “ human skeletons, nicely cleaned and bleached, are seen scattered on the sand. There is no telling how many Hindus a voracious fish-eater' devours during a life-time in India. One of the strange sights that met us, as we entered the Hugly River from the ocean, was the dead bodies floating by us, with birds standing upon them. While at Calcutta, several ladies of our company wished to go to the railway depot op the other side of the river, and!, before we could get the boat near enough to the shore for mem to enter it, we had to push away with our oars several dead bodies of men and women that had floated down the stream and lodged there. . . “I have often seen sick aid dying men and women hurried over the dusty road to the river. Sometimes they were carried on a light bedstead, on men’s shoulders, with only a piece of cloth thrown over them to protect them from the fearful rays of the sun. Sometimes they were carried in carts, without springs, in which they could not lie down, though too weak to sit up. They were often atten fed only by the driver, who hurried on the oxen, regardless of the pain and groans of the dying one, lest they might not reach the river ere life was gone. The eldest son usually accompanies his mother on this last awful journey. When the river is reached, she is placed partly in the water. She must die now. To return home, to be repulsed by the Holy Mother Ganges, would be a greater calamity than widowhood. Too often the son hastens her death, lest she should recover. The last sigh has scarce escaped when her body is thrust out into the stream, to become fooa for alligators and vultures.” When invalids have once been placed in the Ganges, in expectation of their decease, they are seldom provided with either food or water, no matter how long life may be protracted. Should the fresh air and the change in their situation produce a change for the better in their disease, as is sometimes the case,.the circumstance is regarded as very unfortunate —being interpreted as an avowal that their souls are rejected by the Ganges. Mrs. Hauser repeats the account of “an aged Hindu mother, who was thus exposed by the river-bank for thirteen days, fed only with a little milk, part of the time without shelter from the rains, and part of the time screened from alternate drenching showers, or fierce heat of the sun. by a slight canopy of mate. For a consideration of twenty-five rupees, tyre Brahmins allowed the old womad to return home, and her family to retain their caste, notwithstanding the -reproach cast upon them by the refusal of too Ganges to receive one of their number.” While the invalid survives the friends continue with him or her through the day, but at evening the duty of watching is given over to a servant, and the relatives retire to the comfort of their dwellings. When death is imminent, mud is stuffed into the ears and nostrils of the moribund, and Ganges water is poured down the throat, and thus life is hastened in its exit.

The Science of Phrenology Illustrated.

They had a lecture on phrenology in Norristown a short time ago from a traveling professor of that sciencte, And pkrt of it was quite entertaining. He had on the stand several plaster heads mapped out in town lots, and after he explained what they meant he invited persons in the audience to come up and let him feel their bumps and explain their characters. Several times he hit it pretty accurateand excited a considerable amount of applause, but after a while old D. stepped up for examination. He is aq absent-minded man, and he wears a wig. While dressing himself before coming to the-lecture he had placed his wig on the bureau, and accidentally tossed his plug of tobacco into it. When he put the wig on it was just like him not to notice the plug, and so, when he mounted the platform, he had a lump just over his bump of combativeness as big as half a hen’s egg; The professor fingered about a while over D’s head, and then said:

“ We have here a somewhat remarkable skull. The perceptive faculties strongly developed; reflective faculties quite good; ideality large; reverence so great as to be unusual, aud benevolence very prominent. Secretiveness is small, and the subject, therefore, is a man of candor and frankness; he communicates what he knows freely. We have also,” said the professor, still plowing his fingers through D’s hair, “ acquisitiveness not large; the subject is not a grasping, avaricious man, he gives liberally; he—he—he. Why, itcan’tbe? Yes. Why, what —I Munificent Moses! that’s f the most, awful development of combativeness I ever heard of! Are you a prize-fighter, eh ?” “ Prize-fighter!” exclaimed D. “ Why, wbat do you mean ?” “ Never been a soldier, or a pirate, or anything like that ?” “ You certainly must be crazy.” “ Ain’t you fond of going into scrimmages and row’s, and hammering people?”

“ Certainly not.” “ Well, sir, then you’re untrue to your nature. The way your head’s built qua!isles you, I should say, in a special manner, as a knocker-down and dragger-out. If you want to fulfill your mission, you will aevofe the remainder of your life to “ battering up your fellow man and keeping yourself in one interminable and eternal muss. You’ve got the awfulest fighting bump that ever decorated a human skull. It’s phenomenal. What’ll you take for your head when you die? Gentlemen, this man is liable at any moment to commence raging around this community like a wildcat,. banging you tyith a club or

anything that comes handy. It isn't safe fm him to be at large.* I I'm Then D. put up Mis hand to feel the bump: and he noticed the tobacco. He pulled] ofi his wig, and there was the plug jiqrt, sticking behind his left eir. Then fire professor, looking At it a moment in confusion, said: “ Ladies and gentlemen, we will now—the lecture is—that Is, I have no more— Boy ttyrn out those lights!” The# the audience laughed, and D. put on his wig, anty, lire pr«few#>r started to catch the late train. The science of phrearolbgy ft not as popular in Norristown aa it was, and D. still remains peaceable.— Phila. Bulletin.

An Address on the Currency question.

Mr. Elliot 0, Cowdfn, of New York, at the invitation of citizens or both political parties, delivered at Cihctamti, a few evenings ago, an address on the “ History of Currency and Finance in the United States.” Beginning with the wampum and barter currency of Oolonial times, he described the depreciation of the first paper money issued by the Colonies and subtequcntly of the continental currency, outlined the expedients of Robert Mortis and the financial policy of Alexander Hamilton under the .Constitution, and re counted the organization of the United States Bank, the suspension of Bpecie payments in 1814, the establishment of the second united States Bank, President Jackson’s fight with the United States Bank, the panics of 1819, 1837 and 1857, and the financial measures of President Lincoln’s Administration. He closed by prescribing remedies for the financial embarrassments of the period.

it requires, said he, no logic to prove that the colossal financial transactions of oar late war have left a tremendous burden upon business of every kind. 8o far as the Government and its liabilities are involved, and so far as the actual weight upon the people is concerned, the situation remains much the same as when the war closed. We feel the pressure as wearily at this hour as at any previous period. And the question now arises, what is to be done for our relief? My answer shall be brief- The people must rely mainly on themselves, adhere strictly to their legitimate avocations, live within their means, cease croaking, and be of good cheer. Notwithstanding the debilitating drain of the war, the wealth of the Nation is constantly increasing. Never were its developed resources so great as now, while those undeveloped are of incalculable value. It is to these and to the inherent energies of the American people to bring them forth and utilize them that we should look for deliverance from present embarrassments and for future prosperity. At the same time our National, State, and city governments must curtail their disbursements. We must be prudent in our credits. We must stop investigating in speculative schemes. We must cease operating in lands for the mere purpose of laying out paper cities. We must stop constructing railroads through regions where there are no passengers ana no freights. ' We mttsf not irun into debt, and thus mortgage the uncertain earnings of the future to meet the improvident outlays of the present. By, such processes we can restore confidence, revive business, and powerfully aid itt A speedy return to a sound ctuxency. '- ’- ’-Li. It is now fourteen, years since die,suspension of specie payments. This is by ftirtofe longest period df suspension the Nation has ever experienced. The fact that Great Britain remained under suspension from 1797 to 1821 .affords no excuse I fog us. Although struggling for existence against armed Europe, after the actual close of the long war to put down Nitytolebn, Engird continued iij suspension only six years, while it is now eleven years since dhr great war terminated . The Bank of England voluntarily resumed Specie payments in 1821, instead of. waiting until 1823, the time fixed upop by law, and resumption had no serious effect upon the market beyond- temporarily* checkin# speculation. ' i ■ 1

Look at France in our own day. It is scarcely fiye years since the close of the terribly destructive Franco-German war, vet we find that, besides paying off her 5,000,000,000 francs of indemnity, she has reduced the amount of her paper money 750,000,000 francs. And although 1878 is the time fixed upon for legal resumption, paper money in France is now actually at par. How striking the contrast between the financial policy of France thus exemE lifted even in the hour of defeat and umiliation, with that of America in the fullifess ot,victory and exultation. The lesson taught by the facts I have cited is that a renewal of confidence and a revival of business lead to resumption naturally, and that resumption does not operirte so much as a cause of prosperity as an effect that follows it. It also shows that when paper money was at par nobody wanted coin except in special cases, preferring paper, as more convenient, for the purposes of a circulating medium; hut, as Franklin expressed it,Tt is “ paper money well founded” that has these advantages. With prudence and confidence we may reasonably hope to reach resumption on the day named in the act of Congress. To prepare for this we must, in tne meantime, submit to a caretul but gradual reduction of the volume of the currency. Prior to the outbreak of the rebellion the maximum of paper money ever in circulation in the country was $215,000,000. The outstanding paper currency at the present time is about $730,000,000; it is evident, therefore, that the first step toward a return to specie payments should be, in some form, a contraction of this war legacy of an inflated currency. This done, the whole country will then recognize the wisdom of repealing the legai-tender act, and the gradual redemption of the legal-tender notes. The United states now owe some $380,000,000 of these notes, or one-sixth of the entire indebtedness, long since past due. Now, gentlemen, Task you this plain question: What would be thought of a business house owing a large amount of borrowed money, or bills past due, in addition to notes on time, if it were to apply all its available receipts to buying up its unmatured long notes, leaving the demand claims unsettled, and ignoring the interest on them? The payment of unmatured notes and debts, while no effort was made to pay borrowed money and past due debts, would be a flagrant act of injustice which no court in a civilized country would tolerate between individuals, and under our laws would sr.bject a firm to be adjudged fraudulent bankrupts. Yet for moie than ten years such has been our National policy, to the serious detriment of our hidus trial interests, and to the debasement -of-pubHo,morals- r — - ———•«—i TrucFrench have not as yet reached the high commercial plane of selling eirgs by weight, as they undoubtedly should be sold -. but they are considerably in ad* anco of the Americans in graduating the price According to the size. A set of measuring rings i* a necessary part of a French eggde iler’s outfit.— Detroit Fn» Press.

PERSONAL AND LITERARY.

I. Ammerman is the proud title of a citizen of He# Jeraey. 1 . —Ex-Secretary Bristow will be fortyfbur yhars old on the 11th of inly. —6ergt. Bates now contemplates a water yoyage 10,000. mile# long. If he will make the first mileof it under water, h»4tan draw on Detroit for ssoo— Free Frees. —On tne 18th of Jane Dr. George Cbok, the President of the Brigham Hall Insane Asylum, st Canandaigua, was fatally stabbed by an insane patient, named Brown. —Rev. H. R, Revels, D. 8., has been elected editor of the SeuthMsetem Christian Advocate at New Orleans, by. the Methodist Gendrtl Conference in session at Baltimore. Dr, Revels, is the colored ox-United Btates Senator from Mississippi. —An event of considerable interest in ecclesiastical circles in Philadelphia has just occurred in the retirement of Rev. Henry A. Board man from the pastoral charge of the Tenth Presbyterian Church, which he has held for the last forte-three years. —Mr. Wylie, the Checker-player who won so many matches in Eastern cities, a few days ago entered into an agreement with Mr. Barker, of Boston, who is considered the best player in New England, to'jplay a series of 100 games, each of the contestants to pay ten dollars to the other for every game lost. Up to last Saturday evening thirty-two gamee had been played, of which Wylie had won six and twenty-six were drawn, when Barker said that he had no more money to pay, and the series was closed.— N. 7. Evening Poet —Rev. Dr. Wm. A. Stearns, for nearly a quarter of a century President of Amherst College, died suadenly at his residence, on the evening of June 8, of paralysis of the heart, at foe age of seventy. He attended a meeting of the faculty the day before, which- was unusually long, and became much exhausted, suffering from neuralgic pains through the night. Nevertheless he went to toe chapel, as usual, in toe morning, but fainted while devotional exercises were being conducted. Nothing more serious than overwork and weariness was apprehended, however, and he kept about the house during the day till about six o’clock, when, in not over five minutes after he had been walking around, he suddenly fell dead. —When Admiral Porter was presented to Dom Pedro he said to him, “ I had toe honor of attending your wedding before you did!” which was literally true. Donna Teresa, the Empress, is a Neapolitan Princess, and was married to Dom Pedro by proxy in Naples. Admiral Porter, then a young officer, who was with the United States fleet in toe Bay ot Naples, was present at toe marriage, and was also on one of our vessels which formed part of the escort of the bride out of the harbor. His vessel was on its way to Rio Janeiro at the time, and reached the Brazilian capital in time for Admiral Porter to witness the actual marriage of Dom PedTO ’ -I- . i

Purchasing Titles.

A PariS letter to the Philadelphia TtUoraph say a: Hoes any one of our millionaires tyteb to become a Marquis—a real Marquis, with full right to the title, and with papers and all perfectly en regie t All they have to do is to come over hero to seek out a 1 certain Italian Marquis, and tP pay evet 'the Small sum of $50,000. whereupon the Marquis,. in question will legally adopt'the lucky individual and bestow upon him his ancestral tide, with tho condition that he is never to behold him, nmge. Such, in a few words, is the bargain proffered to any aspiring republican in' love with a title, by the bearer of one of the noblest names in Italy. The gentleman, an old And distinguished looking man,, came to one of our prominent American residents here lately and unfolded to him thtrttate of the case. He was poor, he wanted money, and he was willing to adopt any man of wealth, good breeding and good address (on these last points he insisted strongly), who would pay him the amount before named, and pledge himself never to seek his adopted father again. Out of sheer curiosity this American investigated the facts of the case, and found that the old gentleman’s statements were all true, and that he was perfectly serions in his proposition. He was asked why he did not marry some heiress who would be happy to exchange her wealth against the title of Marquise n nrl L !■ nn/1 nn/iinnf mama

and his noble and ancient name. No, he did not want to many, he did not want to be bothered with a wife; all he wanted was money enough to enable him to live comfortably for the rest of his days, and so he had bethought himself of this expedient Unfortunately my friend knew of no American gentleman at once wealthy enough and foolish enough to be willing to exchange the proud name of American citizen against the sounding brass and tinkling cymbals of a foreign title. Had the title been transferable on the female line the bargain might have been concluded, for I regret to say that my countrywomen have an immense weakness for such vanities. However, it most be conceded that American heiresses are not more eager to purchase than the holders of grand old titles are to sell out their names and honors for a consideration. One young American lady, of great wealth, whs was in Paris last season, had her choice offered her of becoming an Italian Marchess, a German Princess, or a French Duchess, while as to coronets ot Counts and Barons that were strewn at her feet, they were as autumnal leaves in a forest in November. Like a wise girl she spurned them all, and passed on, in maiden meditation fancy free. Truly, the worst use to which a rich American girl can put her money is to buy therewith a foreign husband. The article may be very showy, very highly polished, and ticketed wt»h a very high-sounding name, but it seldom wears well and is general!; deficient iu all sterling qualities. The prices of such commodities are pretty well regulated and understood. A million in the lady’s own right will purchase a Prince or a Duke; a Marquis may be had tor half as much; a Count of a good old Legitimist stock, with a chateau and a historical name, and with a legend or two attached to the family, will bring at least $250,000, while Counts and Barons of a new creation may be bad far cheaper. Ten asd a qvartkb pounds of paper to each person is consumed each year in North America. This ia ahead of all the other countries, except England, where thev use a pound and a quarter more per head, probably in irytltg to write poetiy. —Mr. Msekqy, (he “ big bonanza” man of Nevada, wears no jewelry. But then his income is a million a month, which permits him to do as he pleases. —ln spite of the hard times, the wages of sin are still up to the old standard.