Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 2, Number 33, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 10 February 1872 — Page 6

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jy [For the Saturday Evening Mall.] AMBITION.

BY B.S. HOPKINS.'

Illimitable space the deep profound Dncornprehended arch rolled bact tne sound Of rumblingchariotwheclslnllKlitnlngclad, While hustllnn thunderbolts, let fly 1° wrath Smote hip and thigh the myriad host of mad Archangel Lucifer, whose vaulting had 1 Almost o'erleaped the walla of Heaven to

New lutre to his might. The bloods* path •y To power, first trod by Hell Omnipotent, 7 Tet smoke* with hlaughtered victims to the

And greed of weak mortality, poor dust Which yields so noon to Time a arbitrament That scarce the red lipped cannon cease to

The blade's steel tongue to drip with human

And wurunchaln the firc-jawed dogs that

Night'Tcurtain with their lurid fangs, till riles

Its empty

sounding name. A sacrifice

To ix-ath. a toinb 'tis over then: '-Here

lied."

'From Appletoa's Journal.] ,'L LIFE. iaSSfeSifertaSs&i

Life I* a ro«e, brier-burdened, yet sweet, Blooming a day Flinging Its j«-rfume like pertume to meet.

Wind-blown away!

Leaf after leaf spreads its blush to the air, Kissed by tin-sun Deeper-lined growinir, an Joy makes it fair,

Love's guerdon won.

Leaf after leaf shrivels up from the heart, Leaving it bare Color and fragrance and joy all depart,

None left to care.

.« Nay, the divine in it lingers there still, God's care In all Rou.-t. :.ves but drop nt the beck of His will,

Fetters which thrall. Up from Its trammels the freed spirit wings, Higher to soar Attar Immortal a pure essence flings,

Hweet, evermore!

[From Saturday Night-1

Kitty Morris.

IlV IIKHTKU A. BHNKDICT.

"Everybody said that Kitty Morris was a horn coquette, and some there •were who affirmed that she was a downright (lirt. The gir.s admired her open•r ly, but hated her secretly, and there was not a lad, between the ages of ten nnd twenty, in all the country round, but would have walked over hot plowshares all daj', if, at night, he could have sat in Widow Morris' prim little oarlor, with Kitty for a vis-a-vis, and .• the little mother mm est.

Kitty Morris, three years ago, was just seventeen, that most sentimental and, usually, least sensible time in the life of a daughter of Eve. She was no "pink-and-white" beauty, such as modern romancers rave over—lily-handed, 'slow-motioned, full of lady-like weaknesses and languor, with voice toned by rulo and modulated commeil faut ,to favorably impress the social tymparuin—but, a brunette by right of birth, ««he had grown brown as the berries ^ahe hunted, with the sun for a sweetheart, and the wind to tangle he hair.

A little wild, a good deal impetuous,

s1Kitty

Morris had, nevertheless, a great, loving heart, that, brimming over with tfun and frolic, was yet gentle and generous and while she rode like a major ^general—leaping fences and ditches to tho disgust of the girls and the dismay "of lovers too timid to follow, while she was "up to all sorts of harum-scarum

Hdvonturos," and drove the young men •half wild with her irresistible coquetries. There wore a score of poor hsherinan's families that could have testiffiedtoher good qualities as nurse, as well as to tho munificence of liar gilts.

Kitty Morris will die and old maid," •all pretty Eunice Hartley to her brother Pnillip, ono June morning, three yoars ago.

Tho twain were standing in the do'orwav as the veritable Kitty dashed past ^on nor coal-block -"Apollo," her curls blown backward from under her blackplumed hat, and tossing a kiss toward them lrom the tips of her gauntleted fingers, smiling and bowing like a queen. "It won't be my fault it she does," replied Phil. "We all know that," answered the ,girl, breaking a blossom frotn the jessaml no vine beside her, and picking it to

Souktsspitefully.

ieces "01 course, no one your willingness 'to lie for he.*,' or 'to die for herbut, if I was a uian, a I'd haye pride enough to keep me from being the slave of a girl like Kit, who flirts with everybody, and cares a 4

Straw far none." If you were a man, little puss, you'd $ love whom you couUin't help loving, whether she cared tor you or not.

Now, I haven't the vanity to suppose Kitty cares for me and, as I shall marry no one else, I presume you will have a bachelor brother to keep in buttons and good nature all your life."

Eunice laughed. She couldn't be angry with Philip, for be was her idol .4 and then, too, they were alone in the world—orphaned and alone—and they •i had been all-in-all to each other, "till ^that shameless Kitty had come bet, tween" them with her bewitching face, and "bosom that never had ached with a heart." And Phil loved her! dear, good Phil, of whom no one was wor1 thy I If there had been any hope of ^KlMy's returning her brother's love,

Eunice Hartley would have readily .ovedookod her wild, wayward ways, Ph

*ya, ake,

'and gone gracefully, for Phillip's sa, ilntothe background of Philip's regard 3but the girl treated all alike, had smiles for the erippled schoolmaster as well as 1for the young midshipmen who someitlmes honored the narbor of Put-in ,-IUy and, until the arrival of VVillard

Morton, a handsome young graduate 'from Oberlln. upon the beautiful islland, three weeks before the opening ^tiuio ol my story, the strange Kitty

Morris had been like a sunbeam that could not be captured—a butterfly just ^out of reach—continually making her ,own songs, improvising her own mu,«io, the siKirkling river ot her life untroubled by thoughts of marriage. So everybody said but Kitty had her own eeorot.

Let Philip Hartley know she had ..surrendered the citadel of her heart ^without even a request Not she

And so she rode, and danced, and Jwent boating with the new arrival, ,'Willard Morton, until that gentleman ready to lay "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness'* at her feet—so *be said.

Kitty only laughed, wondering, seV^lcretly. if he had half the bravery he \.r boaaUHl. and contnutlnir his mushroom regard with the deep-rooted, long-lived ^love of Philip Hartley, who had grown cold, and shy, and apparently a little *ecklea»—for, while Willard Morton, with that assurance which knows no doubt, was offering his elegant salt to •Miss Kitty. Philip was rigging the •ails of his little boat, preparatory to a long day alone, with only the sky above and the sea below, and

God

aee his sorrow. "Don't go, Phil," pleaded Baniea. "I don't like the perfect still neat of the

hi r* W

water and there is something in the air—or, in the spaee above us, where no air seems to be—that presages storm, Don't go, Phil!"

Storm I carry it with me in my heart," replied the man, a little bitterly. Then, seeing the tears in Eunice's blue eyes, he bent and kissed her, adding: "There, dry your taoe, pet, lor iny sake. I've no one but you, dear— never shall have. Good-by." "Philip—Philip!" the girl said, hoarsely, "I hate Kitty Morris!"

And I love her! Au revoir An hour later, one of the fiercest of storms, so prevalent along the line of the lakes storms that break without warning and cease as suddenly—had lashed the waves into the blackness of billows—the billows far tip on the rocky shore—in full view of the little window beside which Willard Morton sat, toying with the brown tips of Ktty Morris' lingers, trying vainly to wring from

her

close-shut lips a confes

sion of the love he was sure he telt. A door opened suddenly, and Knnice Hart ley slood before them.

Kittv Morris" she said, "take this glass, and out yonder,, where the waves are demons ol death, behold the ruin you have wrought

Poor Kittv tried to obey, but her hands fell powerless beside her, and she only whispered

Knriice, is he out there "Ave, and death is there too! Don't you see it? Look the sails are burried He is—no, thank God, the boat has righted again! Oh, sir"—turning to Willard Morton, who was white aa a ghost, "we are but girls—you will save Philip?" "Quick! I will take you to my boat! Come!"

And Kitty, strong enough, now that the lirst shock was over, led the way to the boat-house and, in a moment more, had fixed the oars, and was motioning her lover to the critiison-cush-ioned seat.

Willard Morton was a good oarsman, h:jd won the prize in the last regatta at tlie bay, but he seemed not at all inclined to risk hi* life, even forsake of his g'.psey love.

Kitty saw his hesitancy, nnd her lip curled scornfully. She flashed him a look from under her wot curls that he has not yet forgotten, and going up to Eunice, took her white cheeks between her brown palms, and said:

I am going to Philip. If I do not see you ever again, remember me kindly, and try and let this hour atone for ali past errors."

She stooped and kissed the lips that were too cold and numb for speech then, without even a glance at her lover, leaped into the boat and pulled away from shore.

No word was spoken by the twain upon the beach. They stood upon tue sands, watching Kate's red scarf blown toward them by the wind, saw her pull strongly and steadily, climbing the billows one by one, each motteut carrying her nearer the wrecked boat, whose sails were shattered and useless, whose master sat still and calm, facing death, and holding closely in his great, true heart the name of Kate and Eunice.

Sometimes they lost sight of her entirely, and through the tnunder of the storin, and the beat of the surf lower down the beach, where ragged rocks were tying, they thought her voice came to them. To Willard it seemed saying, "Now I know how you loved me!" out in the ear of Eunice Hartley it was the cry of a soul near wbick lay the mystery ot the IxTUndless Beyond,

"Philip! oh, Philip, I am coming! Hold on one little minute! Don't let go!"

The voice went throbbing across the reach of waves between Kate Morris and the man wno had loved her all her life, and, hearing its wild pleading, he clung closer to the now capsized boat, new strength, new life infused into every falling fibre of his being.

It "was well that Philip's strength revived, for when her mission was accomplished, Kitty Morris lay, unconscious, down on the wet matting, her lace, with the brownness washed away, looking so like the face of the dead that her lover, forgetting that danger was not yet over, knelt beside her, amid all the wildness of winds and waves, praying her to live—to look up and say she would live. "Take me home, Phil."

The words were scarcely more than a breath but the man heard them, and obeyed.

Onward with the billows swept the little boat, guided by the Arm hand of Philip Hartley, and bearing the beauty of Philip Hartley's life, till, sale at last, despite all the demons of danger, it was washed up high on the beach, and left by the ebbing waves.

For three weeks following that fearful ride, Kitty Morris, who had never been ill in her life before, hovered beside the curtain that divides the Now from the Hereafter, and Philip Eunice, wi for her.

Eand

arn

er, cared

I loved you all the while, Philip," she would say, in her delirium. "All the while—and you were drowned— drowned, and never knew it!"

And Eunice, at such times, would bide her white face on the pillow beside her, and Philip would soothe and quiet her.

The harvest moon was over the lake when Kate and Philip stood again on the shore, recalling the terrors of that time, which seemed to both so far away. "And you carried a storm in your heart that day, Philip, my king?"

Yes, but I brought back peace he answered, and the moon saw all the rest.

WANDKRIXO a few davs ago through the pretty cemetery at ^fatick, Mass.— a picturesque little Greenwood overlooking the bay—we came upon the graceful monument *which Senator Wison has erected to the memory of his son—a young army otflcer who died in Texas during the war. It is an oblong slab of white marble, on the top of which lie, in sculptured carelessness and disorderly qu'et, the beroe's military hat, sword, sash, belt, and other accoutrements. The design is appropriate, and (with the exception of a certain stiffness in the hat) is more than commonly successful. The young man was his lather's only son. Mr. Wilson now has neither wife nor child. —[Golden Age.

A STIFF HORN.—A quick-witted

per went into a barroom up in the country, and called for something to drink.

We don't sell liquor," said the landlord "we give you a glass, and then if you want to buy a cracker, we will sell it to you for five cents," "Very well," said tho customer, hand down the decanter."

Our hero took a stiff horn, when turning to depart the unsuspecting landlord haodea him the dish ot crackera, with the remark, "You'll buy a erackftr f"

Well, no, I guess not you sell 'em too dear. I can ouy 'em anywhere,five or six for a cent."

•*. vis.

[From the Chicago Post.] TRIAL BY JURY.

Suggestions of change and expressions of dissatisfaction with the jury svstem are beooming so common as to indicate the existence of grave objections to it. Originating at a period so remote as to appertain to the "twilight of fable"—guarded in times past by compacts with inonarchs—defended by heroes and patriots at the expense of their blood—incorporated in the organic law of Great Britain and the United States with so much earnestnesssand solemnity as to be regarded as saerer1, for centuries the glory and the boast of the Anglo-Saxon race, it has at length come to be viewed with distrust, and treated with complaints, iudifleience, and hostility.

The whole subject of trial by jury needs attention from the Legislature. Rules and practices that have nothing but antiquity to reccommend them should be mercilessly abolished. The necessity of the legislation requested by the County Commissioners is imperative. Let the Legislature remove the evils indicated, that jury trials may require and merit the old confidence in their value and efficacy. 5nrjs4i.

TERKK-HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL. FEBRUARY 10. I8727

The reason of this may be easily shown. The law is very conservative. It adheres with extreme tenacity to precedents and traditions. Its theories are fixed, and consequently unprogressive on many subjects, and peculiarly so on this. Hence, while civilization has advanced, and the objects upon which the law was designed to operate have been materially changed, the jury system and its auxiliaries have remained stationary, it is ils auxiliaries, rather than the system itself, that modern society has outgrown.

One prominent objection to the working of the system is alleged to be its application to too groat a number, in legal parlance, of civil cases. The law requires a jury in all cases involving questions of fact. There is no need of a jury in all such cases, it would be amply sufficient it juries were provided for only such cases of the kind as the parties interested wished to have so tried. An intelligent and upright judge is more likely to do justice between the parties than the average jury. As illustrating this point, the petition of certain courts of Tennessee to its Legislature is cited. The Legislature is asked to so change the law as to provide for the trial of all civil cases without the inteivention of a jury, unless either irty demands it. The reason alleged is the promotion of justice and economy.

A much more grievous infliction in the operation of antiquated rules for the selection and management of juries in criminal cases. Those rules were doubtless fair, and conducive to the prevention and punishment of crime and the protection of innocence, in their ty but many ot them have now grown to be utterly impracticable, subversive of these ends, and the means of causing great hardship to individuals. The Wharton jury, in charge of the Sheriff, were taken away ten miles irom where the court was in session, to attend the funeral of the wife of one of the members, because the jury must not separate during the trial. The inexorable rule recognized not the husband's duty to be at the bedside of his dying wife, nor did it allow him to comfort his motherless children

The difficulty of impanneling a jury iu such cases as that of Stokes or McFarland, is as great as the promotion of justice under such a rule is impossible. One hundred years ago it was easy and appropriate to select a jury having no previously formed opinion of the guilt of the party accused now, in attempting to securesucb a jury for those cases, we banish from it every vestige ot intelligence and integrity. Recognizing this, and showing the extent ot the evil adverted to, the Legislature of New York is considering a bill providing that henceforth jurors shall not be excluded for having previously read the papers intelligently*

But chief among these grievances, in part causing those complained of, and in part caused by them, is the material of which juries are made in large cities. The pay given to those who serve on juries is sufficient to attract to our courts a class but a step removed from vagrancy, who are anxious to serve their country in that capacity, and who are known as "professional jurors." They are a lazy, inefficient, and mercenary class. The idea of doing justice between man and man is the last one that enters the heads of the90 men. They have made the courts of justice a delusion and a mockery. Pervading more or less all our large cities, Chicago has not escaped. To the prevention as well as the cure, then, of this evil, the County Commissioners have asked the' Legislature to remodel the jury system of the State. The recommendation of the Commissioners contains three points having a direct and powerful bearing upon the suppression of the professional juror. The first is the prohibition of serving for more than one week at a time, unless upon a single long trial. The next is the precept that jury service shall be without compensation, and the last, that one week's service shall exempt from further service for a period of two years.

LOUIS XIV.

Louis XIV.—coward, impostor, the basest of voluptuaries, the chief savage of his time—proclaimed a tournament of the nations, and drove his starving and enfeebled people to fling themselves in miserable throngs against the patient Hollander, the quiet German, the soft Italian, and die in myriads on the fields of battle. When Swift retired to Laracor, Louis the Great was at the height of his renown. Europe trembled before the despot of Versailles, the modern Dionysius. While the people starved, the soldiers of France, clad in rich trappings and fed on costly food, were ready to be let loose upon the factoriesof Flanders and the rich cities of Germany: and in every happy home or peaceful village from Stnuburg to Vienna the ambition of the French Attila struck an icy dread.

To become "king of men," as bis unchristian preachers were accustomed to salute him, Louis had sunk into a barbarian: Yet his youth had not been without its promise. He was the randson of Henry IV., and had inber ''M

grai ited at least the memory of austere Jeanne d'Albret, and or the simple

manners of Beam. His own motber

had neglected him. He could remember tho time when his valvet suit had grown threadbare from poverty, and when his scanty and ill paid allowanos scarcely gave him a tolerable support. He had been educated in sobriety, at a time when all France was flourishing with vigor under the influence of Hoguenot ideas, when the fields ware clad in wealth of food and population, the feetoriea busy, and the prosperous n»tin«» had just entered upon a career of reform and culture that might have saved It all it* later woea. Louis, the neglected boy, grew up IWr graceful, and gracious In his manners but at twenty-two—still happier anspioe for bis

country—became

king in reality,

under the guidance of the tardy Intel

lect of Colbert. The Huguenot minister governed for a time the destinies of franco, and Louis was the champion of economy, moderation and peace. Brief however, was the period of his moral vigor: he fell with a memorable lopse. The pagan influence of the Catholic faith clouded his aspiring spirit. Corrupt confessors aud plotting Jesuits condoned his enormous vices. He sank into nloral and mental degradation, and Bossuet and Massillon celebrated in sounding periods the mighty monarch who had driven the Huguenots from his kingdom with unexampled atrocities, and whose barbarous ambition had tilled Europe with slaughter.—From "The Days of Queen Anne," by Eueene Lawrence, in Harper's Magazine for February.

TAKING THINGS WITHOUT ASKING. When I was a boy, I was playing out in the street one NVinter's day, catching rides on sleighs, and it was great fun. Boys would rather catch rides any day than go out regularly and properly to take a drive. As I was catching on to one sleigh and to another, sometimes having a nice time, and sometimes getting a cut from a big black whip, I at last fastened, like a barnacle, to the side of a countryman's cutter.

An old gentleman sat alone on the seat, and he looked at me rather benignantly, as I thought, and neither said an3'thing to me, nor swung his old whip over me so I ventured to climb upon the side of his cutter. Another benignant look from the countryman, but not a word. Emboldened by his supposed goodness, I ventured to tumble into the cutter, and take a seat under the warm buffalo robe beside him, and then he spoke.

The colloquy was as follows Young man, do you like to ride?" Yes."

It's a pretty nice cutter, isn't it?" "Yes, sir, it is, and a nice horse drawing it." "Did I ask you to get in

No, sir." Well, then, why did you get in?" Well, sir, I—I thought you looked so good and kind, and that you would have no objection."

And so, young man, because you thought I was good and kind, you took advantage of that kindness, and took a favor without asking for it?" ,, ,f "Yes, sir." "Is that ride worth having?"

"Yes, sir." Well, now, young man, I want to tell you two things. You should never tfcke a mean advantage of the kindness of others and what is worth having, is worth at least asking for. Now, as you tumbled into this sleigh without asking me, I shall tumble you out into that snowdrift without asking you."

And out I went, like a shot off a shovel, and he didn't make much fuss about it, either. I picked myself up in a slightly bewildered £tate, but I uever forgot that lesson. UH "l

INCIDENT IN ART EMUS WARD'S EARLY LIFE. *1* In his lecture on Artemuir Ward, Mark Twa|n tells the following:

When Arteinus was very young, he and a companion got hold of a pack of cards and learned to play euchre.

Artemus was perfectly fascinated with the game, and played it as often as he had an opportunity, but it had to be done on the sly, and he had to hide his cards from his parents.

So, when he was looking out for a place to hide them, the boys thought the safest place where they could put the cards was in the pocket of the minister's black gown, under the very aegis of the Church.

I don't know what segis means, but it's a good word, and I suppose it's all right.

Well, the old minister was called on to baptize a convert, and as he went down into the water wearing a gown the cards began to come up to the surface and float off.

The boys who were on the bank watching, though in great fear, kept their eyes on the cards.

As it happened, there came up first two bowers and three aces. Of course, the boys were thrashed, and an old aunt of Artemus proceeded to lecture hiin on the enormity of the crime. "Why," said she, "fust imagfne bow the poor man must have felt when he saw the cards coming up! I should have thought he would have fainted, and don't see how he got out." "Well," said Artemus, "I don't see how he could help going out on such a hand."

TIME TO "GIT."—Jamie has a good memory, and can generally tell the substance of what was in the sermon of Scripture lessen when he has been to church.

He goes to school and remembers what he hears there also—both what he hears at recitation and at recess.

Not long ago the Scripture lesson read at church was the third chapter of Eccleslastes, in which occurred a statement that there is "a time to get and a time to lose."

A lew days afterward the minister, having ^played a while with our little hero, noticed that It was about schooltime, and inquired: "Do you know what time it is, Jamie?" "Guess it's about the time to git!" replied the little sqpmp archly, and started lor school.

IF we understand Mrs. Stowe's recent

Eironunciamento

concerning Spiritual-

BID, it is that she believes in the agency of spirits, defend Prof. Hare whom the world called mad, commends Robert Dale Owen whom the church has stigmatized an infidel, holds that the phenomena of spirit manifestations give evidence of coming from intelligent beings in another state of life, but considers that the whole subject should be pursued by scientists rather than the common people, and that mourners bewailing the loss of friends should not seek comfort through mediums.— [Golden Age. ,T.,..v. ,t,

A NKOKO member of the Texan Legislature was met upon the street with a large roll of greenbacks In his band, looking at bis pile and cackling so loua that he attracted the attention of a bystander, who said to him

What are yon laughing at, Jim f" Jim replied: You see that money

Yen

"Well, boss, I just got that for my vote. I'se been bought four or five times in my life, but dis is de fust time I ever got de cash myself."

FROM ANOTHER POIJTT OF VIEW.—An economical friend of ours read in the paper the other day that "a child had met its death through swallowing a reel of cotton."

He aaya that Is not tbe right way of duo regard putting the event, havi to Its most important would say "a reel of cotton wss lost to

ing

&s-Jfe-

ABOUT A DOG.

A late Chicago Post in its "Table Talk" oolumn tells the Allowing: It was at St. Joseph—everything romantic happens at St. Joseph, unless It takes place at Kansas City—that a very Interesting occurrence was chronicled last week. A woman whose husband had left her, some four manths previously, to obtain work on the great bridge, bearing no news of him determined to seek him out and accordingly came to that city. Here she found that he had left the bridge and no one knew his present wherabouts. She was in despair,being without money and without friends, when she recognized a small dog in the street, which she recognized as one who belonged to her husband. A lucky inspiration seized her. She wrote a note to her husband, tied it round the dog's neck, away trotted to his master, and that night husband and wife were reunited. The Table talker onlv chronicles this romance of the yellow dog to introduce an anecdote of Washington which will be found in Part oil's Life, page, 96. Washington, it is there stated, was out hunt ing in the Virginia forests, accompanied by his favorite hound, Governor. A heavv sttrm of rain mist coining up, he lost his way, his powder was rendered useless, and to add to the perils and inconveniences of his situation, he found that he had not his pocket compass with him. In this sorry plight he wandered in circles as people do who are lost in the bush, wetted, weary, hungry, for he had no food save wild berries. Ho was almost exhausted when a happy thought occurred to hitn. Tying his pocket-flask and his powderflask to his dog's tail, he fastened his long sash around the animal's neck, holding one end in his hand. Then lie planted a tremendous kick in the dog's lumbar region. The animal was so completely surprised at this treatment that he stood for a moment paralyzed then wheeling about he struck a beolin^ for home. It is a curious but undoubted fact that any sudden alarm or attack will quicken a dog's perceptive faculties, render more subtile his scent and powerful his memory, and induce Jiiin, like Marco liozzaris, to strike lor hi* home. So the dog fled, and Washington followed desperately, over stumps, through bogs, into briers, until finally the sasli gave way. With one tremendous yell, Washington scared still further the frantic animal, the terrible banging and clattering ol tho flasks at his heels added speed, and in a moment ho was out of sight. After a hearty laugh at the incident, Washington leisurely marched on in the direction the dog had taken. It was easy to do so by observing the mossy side ot the trees, the direction of the longest branches, and the other signs with which an experienced hunter is acquainted. It was not long, therefore before he reached a clearing, and was once more in safety. But, be adds, the dog, once so faithfully attached to him, could not to the day of his death endure his presence or hear his voice without relapsing into an agony of terror. ......

S /i* ,4

.iften if-( jtaSaL. -^rp Those who aro cursed with an informed noBe can now have it "quickly shaped to perfection," aud for the ridiculously small sum of ten shillings and sixpeuce. A contrivance has, it seems, been patented by an enterprising London tradesman, which, if applied to the nose lor an hour daily, so "directs the soft cartilage of which the member consists," that the ugliest proboscis in creation becomes, in a tew days, a nose worthy to figure upon a chef d' cRuvre of Phidias or Polycletus.

Whether, while it is being worn, this new and wonderful instrument is ornamental to the patient, and soothing to the soft cartilages, we are not informed nor are we told weather, by persistent use of it, a noiseles4 man can afford to dispense with the Taliacotiau operation. We must not, however, be too skeptical. We all know that in the Western States of America an instrument called a "nose-warmer" is in large request. It is a sort of extinguisher, or nose-muff, lined with fur, which, when once it is hoisted, is, if not exactly decorous, at any rate warm and comfortable. Nor is the "nosewarmer" the only patent of modern nasologists.

Snoring is, of all bad habits, the most intolerable and it is comforting to know that a device has been found out to mitigate its horrors. A long flexible tube leads from the nose of the patienl to his ear, and thus the dulcet sounds which he creates awake their author. He, in effect, consumes his own snoring, much as a well-construct-ed factory chimney consumes its own smoke and, being thus convinced of tbe enormity of his own sins, learns him to repent, and to keep his own nose under better control. It is evident, then, that Slawkenberglus left much to bo desired. That a book should have been written on noses, in an age that knew nothing of nosewarmers, nose-correctors, or snoreconsufners, is but another proof how great was the presumption of our ancestors. Meantime, tbe new nose-cor-rector can be purchased for the ridiculously small sum of ten shillings and six-pence, "post free." And yet we shall daily see human beings in our street with noses that area disgrace to humanity.

SAYS the Brandon, Mississipl, Republican: "Almost every train going to "the swamp.' The drift of that race is to the MissuMipi Valley. Every one has noticed that they are leaving those localities where they are in tbe minority for those where their race predominates. In the valley they find their color in the ascendency. As that section becomes more populous in negroes, it will become less so In white, and tbe result will be that the whites can not, with safety, remain among them and it will be given up exclusively to tbe negroes, who, having no restraint upon them, will fall back into barbarism, and commence destroying each other and, 'the best Government the world ever saw" will think it a Christian duty to send troops there and extermiat

NOT long ago our old friend, Professor Agassfz, informed the public that Niagara Falls will wear away in eleven thousand years. Of course no reputable person doubted that the Professor spoke the truth but it will hardly be believed that a man up in Norristown has actually written to tbe paper to say that be not only questions tbe truth of the assertion, but he has made a note of it: and if, at tbe expiration of the said eleven thousand years, he finds that tbe Falls have not worn awav, he Intends to express his opinion oft* cibly.

ilnion of tbe old man plainly and for-

THK Chronicle, in first reception of the So'ns of

»P'

rtant feature. He

to ita'most im a roe industrial purposes, through being swallowed by a childL"

of tbe icbigan

at Waahington, says It is well known that tbe Michigan residents embrace some of the finest ladies at the Capital. Let the Sons of Michigan alone for that.

lib i' I i-f ii 'i I

THE GUARD OF DEATH.

A Reminiscence of the Russian Campaign.

The horrors of war have been detailed in almost infinite variety—affording themes of of inexhaustible abundance for the moralist, the poet, the historian, and the romancer. Abundant in such details of suffering must have been the disastrous campaign of Napoleon in Russia—or, rather, the niost disastrous portion of that campaign, tho retreat from Moscow.

The ordinary 'isasters of a reatreat through an enemy's country were, in this instance, fearfully agravated by the intense severity of the cold and of the multitudes who perished, there were thousands who sank beneath its rigors, for hundreds that fell beneath the lances of the Cossacks. Yet the assaults of these roving warriors of the desert were fearfully destructive. Hovering in small bands around the divisions ol the retreating Frenchmen, and\ never failing to strike when a small party of the enemy became separated from the main body on its march—and such separations were daily becoming more frequent, through the relaxation of discipline, and the increasing want of provisions—there was no possibility of either resisting or escaping their attacks. Well mounted on their fleet aud hardly coursers, such was the rapidity of their movements that they seemed to spring up from the earth—always au-1 pearing when least expected, and if re-^ pulsed scouring away with a calerity that defied pursuit, even if the worn and harrassed Frenchmen had been aide to attempt it. To keep as closely as possible together—when attacked by the Cossacks to form in solid squares,] and meet tho shock—and, above all, to pursue their inarch with the least possible intermission for those who halted died.

Thus were the remains of Napoleon's great ariuv toiling back across the irightful wastes of that inhospitable region, but daily leaving thousands of their number stillening on its snows the troops of Cossacks sweeping around them, and

bringing

up their rear, ready

to pick up every straggler whom tatigue or the hope of greater safety in iso"i laied progress bad separated Irom liitr fellows. I

The main body bad passed on and! there was solitude on the vast and naked steppe which they had traversed. The cold was dreadful, and a driving storm of bnow was whitening the gouund, to which the intense frost had given the rigidity of marble. Allar off, in the remotest verge of tbe horizon, a dark object might be seen, dimly through the snow and from another quarter comes whirling on a troop of Cossacks, with many a wild hurrah. Their leader points to tho dark object in the distance, and away they scour across the plain in the direction of his" spear. As they approach, they see, with grim delight that a baud ofl Frenchmen is before them—but these,» it seems, are prepared for the attack. The square is formed—the bayonets at charge. The Cossacks gallop round! aud round, as if seeking a point ofl vantage to attack—the Frenchmen' stand firm, presenting everywhere bold and steady front, which seems dash tbe courage of assailants. Mean time, the snow comes down in wreaths, and is fast gathering in white masses on the dark uniforms of the brave Frenchmen Round and round the Cossacks wheel, approaching nearerf every moment—yet uot a band is stiHJ in that human citadel not a musket is] fired, although every shot might tell. At length theleaderof Cossacks shouts,*

Forward, to the charge!" and with aj rush thev fling themselves upon the—' dead. At the first shock, the formost" rank of the Frenchmen falls, a row of stiffened corses, on the plain. Tbey| had been frozen of death, there where they stood and there perhaps, they I would have stood, until tbe next sumij mer's heat had given relaxation to their rigid muscles, but for the wild attacl of the fierce desert warriors.

GOLD IN DIFFERENT PHASES'! In the reign of Darius gold was thirj teen times "more valuable, weight for weight, than silver. In the time ol Plato it was twelve times more yaluable. In that of Julius Cwsar gold wasl only nine times more valuable, owin~ pernaps, to the enormous quantities gold seized by bim in bis wars. It is natural question to ask—what becoinei of the gold and silver? A paper rear before the Polytechnic Association by Dr. Stephens, recently, is calculated to. meet this inquiry. He says of our an-] nual gold product, fully 15 per cent.J is melted down for manufacture 85 per cent, goes to Europe 15 per cent, to Brazil §per cent, direct to Japan, China and the Indies leaving but

Kitthat

cent, foi circulation in this country.! which goes to Cuba, the West' Indies and Braail, fully fifty per cent, finds its way to Europe, where after deducting a large percentage used in manufacturing, four-fifths of the remainder is exported to India. He*" the transit of the precious inetal is a an end. Hera tbe supply, howeve^ vast, is absorbed and never returns to the civilised world. The Orientals consume but little, while their production! have ever been in demand among the1 Western nations. As mere recipients, these nations have acquired tbe desire, of accumulation and hoarding, a fashion common alike to all classes among tbe Egyptians, Chinese and Persians. A Frencn economist says, in his opinion tbe former nation alone can hlde^ away $20,000,000 of gold and silver annually, aud tbe present Emperor oL Morocco is reported as so addicted tcif this avaricious mania that he has filled! seventeen large chambers with thel precious metals. This being the passion of princes, it is not surprising that theJ same spirit is shared by their subjects,\ and it is in this predilection that we discover tbe solution of the problem aiK to the ultimate disposition of the. precious metals. This absorbtion by, the Eastern nations has been uninter-' ruptedly going on since the mostj remote historical period. According to Pliny, as much as $100,000,000 in gold was, in his day, annually exported to I the East. The balance of trade in favor of those nations is now given as $80,-f 000,000.

A MICHIGAN woman, whose husband was sick and whose children were con-

nuently

in danger of starvation, onl

ay when tbe thermometer showed( nine degrees below zero, recently drove distance of seventeen miles to tbe town of Ovid with a load of two hundred hoop-poles which sbe bad cut tbe day before. Tbe poles were soon sold, and having made necesaary purchasss she returned the same night to her hungry offspring. if

OKK of the good stories in the life of Young, the tragedian, la that of a farmer's wife, whose pond had been used by some Baptists for the immersion of their converts.

Hearing of it, she was very indignant and vowed that the intruders should be kept off in future. "I ain't no Idea," sbe said "of their nasty sins behind in my water."