Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 3, Number 6, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 10 August 1872 — Page 2

]From the Louisville Courier-Journal.] THE DARK SIDE OF TJIE CAMPAIGN.

A cockroach fat on a cup of pdte St. In a newBpfcfer room The man of scissors he calmly ey ed,

With never a thought oI the tomb. The cockroach spoke to the wan of shears: Old friend, you look tired, glum Is Greeley likely to lose some ground

IlasGratz been away from home?

old cock," spoke up the man of shears, On those I'll bet till I die

What bothers me, my brave olu cock, Is seeing newspapers lie.

,iK

They lie on Greeley, and lie on Grafz, They lie on Piesident Grant I work and work in search for truth,

But cock, It's powerful scant. The cockroach spoke to the man of shears: Great gun ox truth," uttered he,

The best that a man placed like you can do, Is Just to cut what you see.

You can't do better than clip the best Of Heft, else time you will waste The man of shears gave a long, loud groan,

The cockroach slid from the paste.

[From Lakeside Monthly—August!?

DeQuesnoy'sLast Ban-

Sestruction,

1" a A

„quet..

Monsieur is sketching the old chateau It is well worth the trouble, ma, foi but, for my part, I like not to look at it

I started and looked round. I had seated myself on a huge moss-grown boulder, upon a gentle slope overlookihg the broad smooth stream of the Doubs. To my left extended a wide

stretch

of cultivated land, parceled off

into those little patches which are one of the first things that strike one on entering France. To my right, against a background of encircling woodland, stood out the low thatched houses, and broad, white, dusty street, of the little village ofSt. Pierri, half-way up which the paintad signboard of the Pomme TOr glittered like a shield in the sunshine. Just below me, the river curved itself in one great sweep round the base of a -steep hill, that rose on the opposite side, on the brow of which stood the ruins of an old seignorial chateau. Such relics are not uncommon in France but this ruin differed from those which I had yet seen, as the corpse of a man cruelly murdered differs from that of one who has died in his sloop. The ground riven has if by an earthquake—the black charred stones scattered far and wide around— the yawning rifts in the masonry,which still remained erect—all spoke, not of

radual decay, but sudden and terrible The gloom of a great oritno and a fearful tragedy seemed to brood over that gaunt, ghastly ruin, looming grimly against the glory of the clear summer sky, like the shaddow of one great Bin upon a stainless life.

I turned round (as I have said) to see who had spoken, and saw beside moan old man in the dress of a well-to-do peasant of tho country. I had just been reading Krckmann-Chatrian's glorious Wxtoire d'un Pa yuan and had wo been in tho neighbored ot Phalsbourg, instead fin that of Besanson, I should have said that Michel Bastion now stood beforo me. Tho long white hair and beard, enclosing tho bronzed face in a kind of frame—the large bright oye—the bold erect bearing—above all, the deep earnest look, as one who had done and suffered above tho measure of his kind—were suggestive of the Alstain Old Mortality. 1 saw at once that I had fallen in with a "character."

You say you don't like to look at that ruin yonder said I. "Well, It cortalnly Is not a pleasant sight but what do you know about it?"

Everything answered the old peasant emphatically. "I saw it in all its splondor, and I saw it in tho hour of its destruction, seventy years ago. If you care to hear the story, I'll tell it you."

Tho offer, was uot to be slighted for such a talo as this promised to bo, rolatod by an eye witness on tho vory scene of tho catastrophe, was an unexpected prize. I motioned my companion to a soat on the stone besido me, and disposed myself to listen to him.

I remember tho days before the Revolution he began, "although I was but a child but I romember them just as ono might recollect a horrid nightmare. I seoined to have dreamed of being hungry, and cold, and ragged, and helpless,

for

ever so long—and then

suddonly to have waked up free and well off. After all, it wasn't our fault if tho guillotinadcs and noyhdes befell they wero the work of tho Terrorists of tho Assembloe, and of the canaille of the great towns. All that we peasants wanted was to have enough to livo upon, instead of being flayed alive by the nobles and tho Revolution did thai for us. at least. Look at me! In my childhood, I ran barefoot along the high-road, begging of the passers-by, with no hope of even being any bettor off than my father, a poor laborer, who lived upon black bread and onions, and never knew what it was to be warm or well clothed from ono year's end to another. I reinombor that in those days I used always to think of heavon as a place where one would be allowed to sit close to a big Are, and eat ouo'i (111 of tho white bread and dainty roast moat which my cousin, Pierre, tho soldier, (who was on guard nt the Chateau do Quosnoy when his colonel dined there) had told me about. Well, Monsieur, I have now sheep and cattle of my own, and a good bit of corn-land into the bargain my son Gas parti is an avoeat at Lyon and my

frandson, Babtlsto, is a soH.i-licntenaHt tho 8-me-lcgrce. Show me tho peasant bttfore the Revolution whose son or graudson could have become an officer! Bah!

Those were tho days when the nobles did what they liked and a pretty lite they led us, ma toll Note, thank God,the ffsamis aeit/tteurs cau't cut your throat or carry off your wife without any one daring to' fey a word beforo '89 it waa another matter. Tonnerrt! it was no joke then to fall in the way of a* party of young chevalier*, hot with wine and mischief, and ready for any devil's prank that came into tholr heads. Every man that came in their road was sure to be beaten or run through, and as for the women But the less said about that the better. I oan remember even uow (though I was quite a child when it happened) the night our voang lord Henri de Qnesnoy, and three or four of his wild coin-

pauions, scoured the streets of Besan con with their riding-whips, and mado every one they met go down on their knees iu the mud and cry 'Vive le roll' Then, as if that was not enough for them, they broke ever so many windows, rang the great alarm-bell till they roused up tne whole town, and finished bv hanging a dead dog at the door ot M. le Mai re, with a bit of paper in its mouth, on which waa written "A ton tour, mon fro re!" [It's your turn, brother.] "Little did they dream, then, that the day was to come when they should themselves be hung like tJi®»o dogs to every lamp-iron, and when thelrb'ood should run in the »ireels of their town*, to tho cry, cot

of "Vive le roi!" but of "Vive la na tion But all this doesn't belong to my story.

Our old seigneur, Maurice de Quesnay, who lived at tho chateau yonder, i$ the year '89, was such a man as I've heard M. le Cure read about' in the .gospel—one 'who feared not God nor regarded man.' Nothing could frighten him, nothing could rtelt him he was just a man of marble—polished, and hard, and oold 9m death. In one ot the great battle! of the Seven Year's

War, he had flung his plumed hat into an English batlj&ry, atia leaped after it, without a man flVfcfe back, and when he came back alive, bis soldiers muttered to each other that his hour was not come yet—for, you see, there was a legend abroad that he bad sold himself to Satan for a certain term, and that nothing could hurt him till his term was out. Our folks used to say that when he got tired of all his grand dishes, he fed upon children's flesh and many a time have I screamed and run away for iear of being devoured, when I saw him come prancing along the road on bis great black horse, all lace, and jewels, and embroidery, with bis long feathers streaming in the wind, and his smooth, handsome, cruel face bent forward like the head of a bird of prey. Bnt all this was just what pleased hira—he liked to be feared by the cananaille, as he used to call us and, faith! we had good reason to tear him too! If the chateau were still standing, I could show you the very tower on the top of which he hanged Jean Perret, for snaring game in the woods to feed his children who were starving. Then there waa poor Simon Allezsard, whose wife he had carried off. He lay in wait for the marquis one night, and fired at him but the

bullet went through his hat, and didn' even touch him. The marquis had no weapon but bis light rapier, and he Tf wu«» —r—-i wouldn't even condescend to draw that but he wrenched Simon's own gun from him, and beat out his brains with the butt-end. In short, he did such things that we used to cross ourselves at the very sound of his name, iust as the Bretons do at that of Gilles de Retz, the wicked Count Bluebeard, who murdered all his wives one after another* It would take me till midnight it I were to tell you all the horrible stories I heard about him as we sat crouched round our little spark of tiro at night, squeezing close to each other to try and get warm, till at last I hardly dared stir out of the house for fear of meeting him.

It waa in the spring of '89—the year of the great culbute—thatjudgment first begun to overtake M. le Marquis, He had been away at the court for two years, and we know nothing of him except that his steward kept squeezing more and more money out of us every month to pay for his master's fine doings at Versailles—when all of a sudden word got about that he was coming and, sure enough, a few days later he came, and with him a whole crowd of grand folks that fairly filled the chateau. And when, for several weeks together there was nothing but feasting and drinking, and dancing and card playing, and making love, all day long. Now, it happened that among the ladies was one who had been a beauty at the court—Mademoiselle de Montalbert, they called her—who had shown much favor to our voang lord. Monsieur Henri, when they were at Versailles together but when she came down hero sne seemed to have grown tired of bim, and began to smile upon his great lriend, M. Albert de St. Florent till, at last, as young blood is always hot (especially when there's a lady in the case), she bred a deadly quarrel between them. One evening in May, my cousin Pierre, the soldier, who was up at tho chateau, attending upon his colonel, came down to us and told a terrible story. That very morning the two young gentlemen, with otner two to second them, had come out of the chateau before any one else was stirring, and away to a little old place at the corner of the wood, and thero they fell to. M. Henri was a good blade, but this time he was too hot to be prudent, and at the fifth pass ho was run clean through the body. But he came of a race that always died hard and the moment he felt the steel pierce him, he threw himself forward upon the sword, and, shortening his own, ran it into M. Albert's side so fiercely that the blade snapped right across. Then he fell down and died where he stood. But M. Albert had little to boast of. for his wound was mortal, and two aays later he died also, And so the lives of two brave men were thrown away for the caprice of a woman—one of those great ladies without heart and without conscience,] whom God created to avenge tho sins of the noblesse upon themselves. "When the news of L„ abroad, our people (God forgive them!) sjc*

began to rejoice, and to say now that the aristocrats were begining to devour each other, and that he who had robbed so many of their children knew now what it was to lose a child himself. But as we afterward learned, the old marquis, however he might grieve, was not one to let his grief De known. When he heard the news he never sighed or trembled, but only asked how it fared with M. de St. Florent: and when they told him that the wound was mortal, he smiled his own cruel smile, and muttered to himself "Good! The de Quesnoys always strike home!" And after that, he never mentioned his Bon's name again.

Well, Monsieur, a few months later came the the nows of the fall of the Bastile and the peasants began to lift up their heads, and talk of doing something but no one dared to speak openly, for there were troops quartered in llesancon, and nobody knew yet whether they would join us or not. (I heard afterward that they were ready enough to aid with us, but, having no leaders, and each man doubting whether bis comrades would stand by him, they did not stir.) But by the opening of the year DO, the soldiers in all the gar it on town) had communicated with each other, and were on the side of the people so, one day in March, the two Besancon regiments rose as one man, deposed their officers, shot their colonel, and elected Sergeant Koussel in his stead, (the same Roussel who afterward commanded a brigade under the

tegan

M*.

reat Emperor). 7Vn our peasants to think that it was time to square accounts with M. le Marquis, especially as all his grand friends bad gone away, and there were only a few lackeys left to defend hint. But somebody" must have told him what was going on tor just as the peasants were all gathered in the village yonder, with hatchets and pitchforks, and what not, ready to go up to the chateau, there came a rattle of hoofii along the road and into tho market-place broke the old marquis himself, on his great black horse, with his gay dress glittering in the sunshine, and his flwe qniot and smooth, as if he were going into a drawing-room but his lips were set together like the jaws of a wolf-trap. When I saw him coming, I shrank away, fearing that he would seise and devour me even among them all bat I could see how ho reined up bishorse(tbe crowd parting beforo bim right and

fathyand

""'"'I"*"**

TERRE-HAUTE SATURDAY. EVENING MAIL. AUGUST 10. 1872.

left,) leaped from tho saddle, and stood facing us, with his arms folded on his breast* Morbleu! I think I see him now, drawn up to his full height, with his lipcnrling in defiance, ana his eye looking through us like the flash or a sword, as be said in his clear, scornful voice: "I am told that you have something to say to me. Here I am. What do von want? But there was no answer. At the sight of his face, and the sound of bis voice, coining among us that way like an all-powerful master, the old fear of him and his, branded into us by ages of oppression, rose up again stronger than ever and the whole crowd of furious men hung their beads like rated school-boys, and melted away before bim. Tonnerre de del! tyrant and servant of the devil though he was, he did a deed that day worthy of the Twelve Paladins and perhaps the donDieu may yet have piercy upon him, for be was a brave man

I recalled the weird pathos o* the English ballad: That Heaven may yet have more mercy than man

On such a bold rider's soul— and looked with involuntary admiration upon this thoroughly French sym-

with courage even in a heredtary implacable enemy. The old man was silent for an instant, while the momentary softness faded from his iron foatures, leaving them sterner than before. When he resumed, his tone was deeper and more solemn.

But although M. le Marquis escaped for that time, his day was near at hand: for now came news that tho people had marched upon Versailles, that the king and queen had been brought to Paris, that the tiers were up in every part of the country, and that the Assemblee Nationale had decreed the abolition of taxation, monoplv and aristocratic oppiessions, and had pronounced all men free and equal evermore. Every fresh bit of news worked like fire in our blood and at last the people of Basancon got up as one man and swore that, come what might, they would have the chateau de Quesnoy down, and make an end of the wolfe that lived in it, and up they went hundreds upon hundreds.

I can remember as if it were yesterday, Beeing them filing out of the town their pike-heads glittering in the sun, and the mass of red caps showing like along smear of blood upon the white road and I, as a boy will do, followed them to see what would happen. They had expected to find the chateau barricaded, and to meet with some resistance but no! the garden gate was open—so was the hall door—and on the threshold stood the old marquis himself, saying quietly: "Enter—all is ready for you There was something in his voice, and look, and manner that made them shrink even then but they had gone too far to turn back. Into the chateau they poured, with shouts and laughter, and scraps of Republican songs, till every room was chock full and the leaders took possession of the great banquet hall, and set M. le Marquis in the great carved chair at the head of the tablo. swearing that he should see them drink his good wine before they killed him. And then they revelled until one-half of them were under the table, and the other half could hardly stand to light the torches which they had stuck up round the hall. Just about nightfall (I had climbed into a tree near the window, and could see all that went on), I saw old Mercandon, the steward glide up to his master's chair, and say in a low voice: "M. le Mirquis, all is ready'

Are all the lackeys gone?" All, M. le Marquis," Go you too, then, and leave me to finish it alone."

But the old steward only hung his head and answered with a kind of sob •M. le Marqusi, I carried you in my arms when you were a child, and do you drive me away now

As you will, then, my good fellow,'' said the marquis "I shall at least have one honest man beside me at last.

And then he rose slowly to his feet (for till that moment be had sat like a statue, and looking round upon them all.) Monsieur, it I live to be a hundred I shall never forget that sight the old noble standing up like a tower, with long gray hair falling back from his grand calm face the great vaulted hall, with its huge grained arches, and dark paneling of oak the coarse fig/•ii in fliA fvwnuf ures of the peasants lolling in the great chairs or wallowing upon the floor, their rough faces all swollen and disfigured by drink and fury, and lust of blood—the red torchlight flaring, fitfully over all. There was that in the old man's face which silenced the loudest ©f the rioters and you might have heard a pin fall as he spoke "Worthy guests, you have done honor to my good cheer, and it is time that I thank you as you deserve. This is the first time that my chateau has been defiled by the hoofs of Remiblican canaille—and it shall be theiast! Go tell your master, the devil, how the last of tho De Quesnoys repaid your insolence. Vive le roi!"

He seized a flambeau which stood near him, and, stooping lifted a trapdoor in the floor, ana dropped thr torch through it. And then (God pre serve us) carno a crash as if the earth had split asunder, and all the air was one hot blast of fire, and I felt a shock like an earthquake, I knew nothing more."

When I came to myself I was ly ing on the soft earth of one of the flow er Djeds—dizsy and stunned, as if I had fallen from the top of a tower, but, thank God, unhurt. But. Holy Virgin! what a sight it was wnen I looked round! AU about me waa a wreck of smoke and dust as from the mouth of a furnace and dimly through the cloud I could see, on the spot where the chateau had stood, black, broken walls and great masses of stone flung here and there and smoking timbers, and worse than that—legs, and arms, and heads scattered on every side like the leaves in the autumn. The marquis had filled the cellars with gunpowder, and of all who entered the chateau, not one was left alive May the good God have mercy upon their souls!"

WILSON AT BULL Rux.—When Colonel Henry Wilson, now Candidate for Vice President, was in Boston raising a regiment, a little fellow one day presented himself at headquarters and ask ed for a commission.

Have you seen service asked Col onel Wilson. Yes, Colonel. I was in the three months service." "Were yon at the battle of Ball Bun?"

I was. Colonel." Colonel Wilson has a delicate rein of humor in him so winking to his staff,

flA

And did you*tun well '1 used due diligence. Colonel. I did the best I could, bat I couldn't keep up with yon in that hack."

ViwrnxK is now acknowledged by our best physicians to be the only sure and safe remedy for all diseases arising from Impure blood, snch as scrofula and scrofulous humors.

A well bred dog generally bows to strangers. A mother's heart gives 4th Joy at her baby's 1st 2th.

What is required to make a pair of boots? Two boots. The first cullud person on record is Joseph Scoat of many colors.

Mice harm the cheese when they can, and the girls charm the he's, and they can't help it.

Davenport, Iowa, has a girl who spells backward. We never thought backward was a hard word to spell before.

Doctor—"Your cough is a great deal worse this morning." Patient—"That's odd, as I've been practising all night." "What is the best butter?" exclaimed an orator at a meeting ot dairymen. "And old ramresponded a sheepraising interloper.

A thief was lately caught breaking into a song. He had already got through the first two bars, when a policeman came up and hit him with a stave. it#.

An Omaha paper advises the people "not to make such a fuss about the shooting of a constable, as there, .are forty candidates lor the office."

"That man," said a wag, "came to this city forty years ago, purchased a basket, and commenced gathering rags. How much do you suppose be is worth now?" We gave it up. "Nothing," he.continued, after a paijse, "and he owes for the basket."

A story of Theodore Hook is told by Cornelius O'Dowd, in one of his eBsays, to the effect that at some civic banquet, on the appearance of a fifth course of dainties, Hook laid down his knife and fork and declared that he would "take the rest out in money." The idea, O'Dowd declares, was "eminently British-" "Unless you give me aid," said a beggar to a benevolent lady, "I am afraid I shall have to resort to something which I should greatly dislike to do." The lady handed him a dollar and compassionately asked, "What is it, poor man, that I have saved you from?" "Work," was the mournful answer.

Barbers should frequently wash their hands. A stranger, whose nose had been gripped for the eighth time by the offensive fingers of his tonsorial manager, blew the soap from his mouth, and suddenly inquired: "Was the body identified?" "What body?" asked the startled shaver. "What body!" repeated the stranger, in surprise. "Why, haven't you been on a coroner's jury?"

The New York Sun's "John" reports the following conversation between himself and a noble Briton: Says I, "Where are you going?" Says he, "Tohide a hoe." Says I, "What are you going to hide a hoe for?" Says he, "I didn't say hide a hoe. I said hide a hoe," Says I, '-Spell it.". Says he. "I-d-a-h-o." "Oh," says I, "Idaho."

Yes," says he, "hide a hoe."

"This is George the Fourth," said an exhibitor of wax works for the million, pointing to a very slim figure with a theatrical crown on his head. "I thought he was a very stout man," observed a spectator. "Very likely," replied the man, shortly, not approving of the comment of his visitor "but if you'd a been here without victuals half so long as he has, you'd 'a been twice as thin."

A beggar asked for a piece of bread and butter at a house the other day, and on a couple of slices being brought to him, he immediately refused it. "What's tho matter? asked the donor "isn't this good bread?" "Yes the bread's good enough," said the beggar. "Well, isn't the butter good too?" "Yes I've no fault to find with the butter." "Well then what is the matter?" "I don't like the way it's spread on," growled the fastidious mendicant.

In a jolly company each one was to ask a question if it was answered, he paid a forfeit or if he could not answer to himself, he paid a forfeit. Pat's question was, "IIow the little ground squirrel digs his hole without showing any dirt about the entrance?" When they all gave up, Pat said, "Sure, do you see, he begins at the other end of the hole." One of the rest exclaimed, "But how does he get there?" "Ah," said Pat, "that's the question—can you answer it yourself

"Parson, I would much rather hear

Jorse

ou preach," said a baffled, swindler jockey, "than see you interfere in bargains between man and man."

Well," replied the parson, "if you had been where you ought to have been last Sunday you would have heard mo preach. "Where was that?" inquired the jockey.

In the state prison," returned the clergyman A showman in the state of Maine wanted to exhibit an Egyptian mummy, and attended at the court house to obtain permission.

What is it you want to show?" inquired the judge. "An Egyptian mummy more than three thousand years old," said the showman.

Three thousand years old!" exclaimed the judge, Jumping to his feet and is the critter alive

Is it not a pleasure to have converse with you, one of those individuals who punctuate their relation of what they consider particularly good stories of funny occurrences with pokes, nudges and digs in your ribs( The worst of it is, the joker of these runny creatures are made up of nine parts nudges and thrusts ana one part wit: as, for instance, in listening to the story of a large-beaded man trying on hat, we endured the following:

By the by, speaking of hats (pokes as in the bread-basket and stands back as if to view effect,) did you hear of that joke on Bumpis?" (Slaps ns on the shoulder and laughs.) "Biggest joke of the season." (Punch in the breast bone.) "Bumps, you see, wss just about coming out of the hotel dining halt" (Nudge in our ribs with elbow.) "Well, he's got a tremendous big head, you know) grab on lapel of our coat so two of us just hid his hat (wink and a punch in ribs with bony iudex finger,) and put four other fellows' drab hats Just like his in its place." (Poke into ahirt bosom.) "Bumps comes out, tries first one hat (poke,) then another (punch finally, ha! ha! he got mad and (elbow jam) jammed the third one on so hard he split it open." (Tremendous thrust in stomach.) "Ha! ha! ha!—JimBostah's bat! And Bumps had to stand treat— three bottles—ha! ha! ha!" (Tremendous slap between the shoulders that took all the remaining breath out of oar body.")

rnmmm

GOLDEN PARA GRAPHS.

The May of life glooms only once,— [Schiller. Time is an herb that cures all diseases.—[Franklin.

Vulgar nature alone suffers vainly.— [Owen Meredith. To know how to wait is the secret of success.—[De Maiatre. J?

Ambition is like a wild horse, which prances unceasingly until it has thrown off its rider.

A man that hoards riches and enjoys them not.islike an ass that carries gold and eats thistles.

Consider health as your best Mend, and think as well of it, in spite of its foibles, as you can.

Learn to say "no." No necessity of snapping it out dog fashion, but say it firmly and respectfully. Ts***

No man ever did a designed injury to another without doing a greater to himself.—[Henry Home.

A year of pleasure passes like a floating breeze a moment of misfortune seems like an age ot pain.

It is more difficult and calls for higher energies of BOUI, to live a martyr than to die one.—[Horace Mann.

Much adversity is requisite to make us hate life a beckon from prosperity will recall this hatred instantly

If the whole world should agree to speak nothing but the truth, what an abridgement it would make of speech! —[SiUiman.

When you see a man with a great deal of religion displayed in his shop window, you may depend upon it he keeps a very small stock of ft within.

Curses alway recoil on the head of him who imprecates them. If you put a chain around the neck of a slave, the other end fastens itself around your own.—[Emerson.

One day, on board a western train, a lot of rough passengers were discussing the relative merits of various side arms. "What weapon do you carry to defend yourself with?" inquired one of the party of a stranger sitting by, who had not joined in the discussion. "Common sense and mind my own business" was the reply which settled it.

It was my custom in my youth (says a celebrated Persian writer)to rise from my sleep to watch, pray and read the Koran. One night as I was thus engaged, my lather awoke. "Behold," said I to bim, "thy other children are lost in irreligious slumbers, while I alone wake to praise God." "Son of my 80ul,"8aid he, "were better tor thee to be engaged in irreligious slftep than to awake to liud fault with thy brethren.

NEVER TEMPT A MAN. The late celebrated John Trumbull when a boy resided with his father, Governor Trumbull, at his residence in Lebanon, Connecticut, in tho neighborhood of the Mohegans. The government of this tribe was hereditary in the family ot the celebrated Uncas. Among the heirs of the chieftainship wa^ an Indian named Zachary, who, though a brave man and an excellent hunter, was as drunken and worthless an Indian as could be found. By the death of intervening heirs, Zachary found himself entitled to the royal power. In this moment tho better genius of Zachary assumed sway, and he reflected seriously, "How can such a drunken wretcn as I aspire to bo the chief of this noble tribe? What will people say How shall the shades ot my glorious ancestors look down indignantly upon such a successor! Aye—drink no more!" And he solemnly resolved that he would drink nothing stronger than water, and he kept to his resoiu tion.

Zachary succeeded to the rule of his tribe. It was usual for the Governor to attend at the annual election in Hartford, and it was customary for the Mohegan chief also to attend, and on his way to stop and dine with the Governor. John, the Governor's son, was but a boy, and on one of these occasions at iho festive board occurred a scene, which I will give in Trumbull's own words:

One day the mischievous thought struck me to try the sincerity of the old man's temperance. The family were seated at dinner, and there was excellent home-brewed beer on the ta ble. I addressed the old chief:

Zachary, the beer is very fine will you not taste it?" The old man dropped his knife, and leaning forward with a stern intensity of expression, and his fervid eyes sparkling with angry indignation, fixed on me. "John," said he, "you don't know what you are doing. the devil, boy! Do you am an Indian? Shall I become again

the same contemptible wretch your father remembers me to have been? John, never again while you live tempt a man to break a good resolution."

Socrates never uttered a more valuable precept. Demosthenes could not have given it with a more solemn eloquence. I was thunderstruck. My

[ooked

arents

were deeply affocted. They at me, ana t''en turned their

gaze upon the venerable chieftain with awe and respect. They afterward frequently reminded me of the scone, and charged me never to forget it.

He lies buried in the royal burial

falls

ilace of the tribe, near the beautiful of the Yantic, in Norwich. I visited the old chief lately, and abovo his mouldering remains repeated to myself the inestimable lesson,

A TERRIBLE scientific revenge was recently taken by a young chemist in Venice named Orlando Farnerini. He loved a young lady, but she loved an other, who was a tailor. Orlando owed him money, and sent word he would pay if the tailor and his betrothed would visit him in his laboratory. The Invitation was accepted and Orlando slyly got them to take part in electrical experiments. He bade them give bim their bands, put one pole of a Rumkorf apparatus between the girl' fingers and the other into the tailor' hand and then joined currents. The lovers fell to the ground in convnlstve fits, but Farnerini only laughed. After trying to disengage themselves from the apparatus in vain, in five minutes they became distorted corpses. Farnerini with the utmost "sangfroid" reported the matter to the police, and gave himself up.

A friend says the income tax is nothing, the poor rates are nothing, com "je wife's rates and

§*b

ally

he actually taxed him one night (the

curtains being drawn), with being "far

too attentive. Sir," at the party to that forward Miss Prettigal, and "rated" him soundly, accordingly. We fear the poor fellow- has no "appeal," except "a peal" of laughter from his bachelor friends.

THE LITTLE PEOPLE.

What's that said a teacher, point' ing to the letter X, to a little raggedurchin. "Daddy's name.*' No, no, my boy." "Yes it is, I've seen him writeit a good many times." *£_

A little girl remarked, to her mamma, .. on going to bed, "I am not afraid ot the dark." "No, of course you are not," replied her mamma. "I was a little afraid once, when I went into the pantry to get a tart." "What were you afraid of?" asked the mamma. "I was afraid I could not find the tarts."

At a recent examination the question was asked why the children of Israel made a gold calf and worshipped it after they had been forbidden such idolatry by Moses. A precocious little fellow answered, "Because they had not enough gold to make a bull with." The laughter whioh followed put a stop 4 to the examination 1or that day.

During a thunder storm a mother told a little girl that the thunder was God's voice. By and by it thundered again, when the child exclaimed, "There, he's hollering again Another little girl was out on the piazza, when, for the first time, she saw it lightning. She came running in, exclaiming, "Mother, the moon just came by all broken to picces."

ANew Orleans mother was recently questioning her little girl in geography as follows: "Who first went through the Straits of Magellan?" Daisy quickly answered, "Magellan with hia squadron." "What do you understand by his squadron, Daisy?" The question was uot in the book, but Daisy was ready for the emergency. "Oh, I I know it's one of those women that ain't quite white."

Little five-year-old Annie, who was suffering from a bad cold, went to pay a visit to auntie. During the day hhe related her various successes at school, and ended by declaring that she could read a great deal better than Sabina. who was eight years old. "Well," questioned auntie, "wouldn't it sound better if some one else said it "Yes," answered Annie, with a sober qpuntenance. "I think it would. I have such a bad cold I can't say it very well.*'

PAINTING FACES.

The really mystifying fact belonging to this style of painting is, that such persons as devote theftiselves to it, do not paint to deceive. No one can be in the neighborhood of such a face and a not know that it is painted. Nobody ever pretends that people are stippled blue by nature. It is not, thon, aone to deceive, but because, on deliberation, art is preferred to nature. Some women would rather be artificial than real. Can thero bo anything in this world more astonishing Let the fact be chronicled and kept. Let tho deed bo considered and pronounced upon. We are not going to say hero that the practise is ugly in its results. There is undoubtedly a certain strange sort of beauty in the performance.

But is this unreality to be admired and encouraged If face painting is on the increase in this country, are we to be glad, or sorry, or indifferent? How can we be indifferent when every hour of every day men and women are forming opinions of life? The subject is so suggestive that questions multiply un- f. der our pen. Who are the assisting powers in this great work of face decor- b: ation? Can it be true that a fino lady who refuses to acquiesce In the work of her Creator can trust her maid to color a her into something else? Wo know :c how the thorough-paced lady's maid enjoys dressing "ner lady"—it it be not s, too curious anlnquiry, who paints her? —London Society.

FOUNDED ON A ROCK!—Tho disappointed adventurers who havo from time to time attempted to run their worthless potions against Drake's Plantation Bitters, vow that they cannot understand what foundation thero is for its amazing popularity. The explanation is simple enough. The reputation of the world-renowned tonic is founded upon rock, the Rock of Ex-

juj'

QVTCflTWhohundred*never

perience. All Its ingredients are puro and wholesome. IIow, then, could JAtricksters and cheats expoct to rival it with compounds of cheap drugs and refuse liquor, or with liquorless trash in a state of acetous fermentation Of course the charlatans hive coine Jo grief. Their littlo game has failed. Their contempt for the sagacity of tho community has been*fitly punished. Meanwhile Plantation Bitters seems to be in a fair way ot eventually superseding every other medicinal prepara- nation included in the class to which it a belongs. In evt ry State and Territory of the Union it is, to-day, the accepted specific for nervous debility, dyspepsia, a® fever and ague, rheumatism, and all ailments involving a deficiency of vital power.

CI*

CASTORIA—a substitute for Castor Oil—a family physio which is pleasant to tako and does not distress or gripe, but is sure to operate when all other remedies have failed. It is a purely vegetable preparation, containing neither Minerals. Morphine nor Alcohol, tho result of fifteen years experimenting by Doctor Samuel Pitcher. It is perfectly harmless and far more effective-! than Pills, Narcotic Syrups or Castor Oil. By soothing the system it pro- hs ducos natural sleep, and is particularly, adapted to crying or teething children. It kills Worms, cures Stomach Ache,, Constipation, Flatulency and Derangementof the Liver. No family canafford to be without this article. It costobut 35 cents—ask your druggist to get it for you, and ho will always keep it. I?

.W^ IIB man ha« been fbundi jJAY II can choke down the Torna- I I

Ido Thresher. It can't be chohled, and it won't be choked. It

ILO.Vf has of friends in this $ neighborhood who have tried it thwoughly

OCR object being to sell mS'g chines we won't miss a sale, Where parties are good, or furnish ample security, we don 11 hesitate to give long time. Borne

money necessary .but a Utile will go a great ways toward a Tornado.

... I/AAT a trial of Cider Mills, each-f fl SAT riclairnlng to be the best. Ko. 1 11-vjMktk Iproduced 6K pounds of Older llYTSfUwlth 75 revolutions, No. 2, 7% If 1 pounds with 60 revolutions, No. 8, 7 pounds with 60 revolutions, while tne American Mill produced V/% pounds with 30 xevoialions* Bee it at Jones A one*

SAYJl

fl SAY fl

nTCWt n1»°meIy finished, werk

11 ^%*l lon the best,

the

casing* are

Y£S?U*-moptbest, and It Is decidedly

YES!!

the best in every way.

TAT

^TIIE TORNADO

iincn in vy-uuuv», —j-y-r,-Tlic Tornado 3u Inch cylinder, 41

lYES!"

lim 7

S horse or 10 horse. The Carey

inch carrier.

The Carey Power he

NORW UI IV 2

Power mounted or down. Warranted every one of them, at Jones A Jones, Terre-Haute, Indiana.