Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 8, Number 29, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 12 January 1878 — Page 6

IffS®

THE MAIL

A Paper

for iiie

Jearsaw

People.

DOE? ANY ONE OARE FOR FATHERf

XKS. H. SPENCEB.

Does any ie care aught for father Docs any one think of the ona Up"n whose fired, bant shoulders,

The cares of the family come? The father who strive* for yoar comfort, And to'lsoa from day onto day, Although hlssteps evergrow slower,

And his dark locks turning to gray, Jf IDoes any one tbink of the due bill* He's called upo dal'y to pay? MfHIn^r bUs cllm? bit's, doctor bills,

There are some kind of bills every day. Like a patient home in a tread mill. He wo"kson from mirnin* till night. Doe?any one think he is tired?

Does any one make his home bright? Is it right, just because he looks troubled, To say he's as cross as bear Kind words, little actions of kindness,

Might banish his burdei of care. TJs 'or .vo'i he is ever so anxious, He will toil for you while he m&y live. In return heonlya«ks kindness,

And Mich pay is easy to elve.

SARATOGA.

—AN—

INDIAN TALE OF FRONTIER LIFE.

A TRUE STORY.

f" Saratoga was commenced in The Sattirday Kvenlng Mall, Vol.", No 16, October tth Back nun bers can be had of newsdealers, or at this office,or sent by mail for five cents each.]

CHAPTER XXX.

Ay ENTIRELY NEW PROGRAM MB.

As the party drew nigh to the eabin they were met by Colonel Belden, who greeted the father of Lucile with much heartiness and good will, t-ome time was, in fac\ spent in little courtesies and attentions between thorn. His mannnr to VValcott, on the contrary, though not lAvsolutely discourteous, was cool— sufficiently so, at all events, to indicate that something was the matter. Besides Marion had not come forth to meet them. She had remained in the inner apartment. Hith«r Lnaile also soon went, but did not immediately return. No explanation of what had occurred seemed likely, therefore, to be soon attainable and as the two old gentlemen seemed to have much to say to each other, or at least, talked as continuously and eagerly as if their conversation was important and as Walcott felt himself kept a little at a distance, he after a few moments, withdrew into the open air. Here be hunted up Brigham again, and endeavored to extract from him something to throw light upon the cool reception he had met with. 'Well,'said that worthy individual, rolling a quid of tobacco from oneof his oheeks to tho other 'as I telled ye before, there'* no miking out exactly what's in tho wind, butamancan guess, you know.' •But,'said Walcott.'what was it that

ou and know for perhaps when I that, I can form some notion for mvself.' 'Why, then, Mr. Walcott,' said the other, 'to tell the busine.es, free and candid, arter yon wont off, and body could tell exactly how, except that the young gal—tho black eyed one, I mean —WHS gone too—why what should Major Floyd do but contrive to get up another select party for himself that is to say, himself and the colonel's darter. The old gontlemanand tne all this while was talking of old times, and paying little or no attention to other matters. Hows'ever, at last he axes for Mary Ann.' 'Maiion, you mean,' interrupted Waleott. 'Well, Marion, then he axes for her, but she wasn't to be seen. So up he gets and saysjje, 'Brigham, did you notice which way Mary Ann (or Marion, as yon call her) went?' 'Yes,' says I, 'she and Floyd has gone down toward the rock.' 'And where,' says he. arter that, •are all the rest on 'cm?' Why,' says I, tho captain (that's what mnst on 'em oallsyou, you know) the captain and the little gal was out a walkin' some time since, and ain't got hack yet so far as I know.' This makin' up two pairs on ye didn't seem to plea.«e the old colonel, for he begun to look serloui and says, we had better walk out and see that nothln' happened to his darter. From being full of talk and spirits, he begins to get glum and silent as we went, and when wo reached the top ot' the bank yon know, jist where the path winds down between the bushes, he pulls me by the sleeve, and says, 'Wait a minute.' Through the bushes the Rock Spring was plnln in sight. Hows'ever no one was near it but beyond there, where tho path follers along the willow bushes elus under the bank, who should wo see nndera big wide limbed oak tree that hung out from the hill, but the very Major and Mary Ann herself, no doubt thinking themselves cosy enough. And what do you think they was a doin' •I can not imagine, I am sure,' said Walcott 'though t«ey are old acquaintances and school fellows, I holievn.' •School fellows be hanged!' exclaimed Brigham Mf they wasn't a makin' of love I'm much mistaken. They went through all tlw motions mi ?htv nateral. I can tell you. He wai at that very minute a kU^n' her hand. I obsarved the old colonel tremble, and turn a little pale. So says I, feelin' it wasn't exactly right for me to be a looking at sich an affair, says 1, 'Colonel, perhaps I had better go and look arter the rest, as we've found two on 'em 'Io so,' says he: and I went Vwk n*- once. see no more on 'em, till g.yi while arter when the old man came up to the "house and his darter along with him, a cryin' and talkin'as if her heart was going to break He wan mluhty glum and stern for all that. Not long arter that, up eomes Fioyd too, but not to go into the houoe. •Brigham,' say* he, 'can you get my horse out here In no time?' 'Yes,' says I, 'but what on arth is In the wind?'

Oh! nothing particular,* says ho, though I c.mld see he was terribly Harried, and kept walking about in a kirnl of a rage. 8 I axed no more questions, but had the boss brought, which be mounted and rode off as if the devil was behind him. And th«ro you have the whole ou't, except that after that the colonel kept axing far you and walking about as impatient as Floyd had been, and muttering to himself, like. Something has gone wrong all round, but where the loose screw is, p'raps you «an tell better than I.'

Wben Brigham had finished his recital, Walcott, also, was considerably disturbed, and paced about uneasily for a few moments. 'I'm blessed!' said Brigfeam. 'if I don't think you've all got walkin' fits this morning. If it's catching I m*y as well be off, for fear I shall find myself walk ing a sentry baat too, before long. What's got into ye all? Is there any thing a plain maa can do to set things to righto?'

'I'm afraid not, my good freud,'said Walcott I tbink I know what tne matter is, and those concerned will have to settle it among themselves. I am much obliged to you, however, for your frieud ly intention. I will just take a short torn by mvsair, and if tho oolonol asks for me you will fiad me down by the rock. I wish to think a little before seeing him.' 'Sartainly, sir,'said Brigham, 'anything you wish. And I hope the trou ble, whatever it is, will soon be made up.'

In a very few minutes afterward Waleott had disappeared, going down the pathway which led to the mineral spring.

When Lucile went into the apartment to which, as we have said, Marion bad previously retired, she found the latter sitting with swollen eyes and flushed cheeks, in sadness and despondency, by the window. 'Oh, Lucile!' she exclaimed, 'how glad I am to see you! I have been waiting 'for you so long, and have so. tziucb to say to von. Dear papa'(here the tender hearted yirl sobbed bitterly) 'has been offended, and I don't know what to bay or do!' •What has he said to you, then?'asked

Lucile. •Oh! it is along story. He ha* scolded me for walking out with Major Floyd, and has said very harsh things to Richard himself, poor fellow! Oh! how miserable I am!' •But,' answered Lucile, 'what reason had he to scold you? I'm sure Major Floyd seems a very gentlemanly person, and he would do nothing to merit renroach any sooner than Arthur.' •No, indeed, he would not! Why, Lucile, he is really the most delicate, the most noble, the most kind hearted of men!' •But,' said Lucile, suddenly recollecting the supposed relation between her friend and Walcott, and blushing, half with pain at the thought, and half with pleasure at the hope that tnat reiation was soon about to be changed 'bat you

fbar?'

io not, of course, like bim as you do Ar-

•As I do Arthur?' said the other 'Why, Lucile, bow can you say such thinu? Why, Lucile' (here she rose and cau-bt her blushing companion fast in her arms, then again sat down, holding her on her lap and hugging her to her bo som) 'Lucile, you dear, delightful angel! you love Arthur yourself There now, don't blush and cry so, my poor little darling! He is nothing to me, and he has told me that he loves you so!—so dearly! But, as for me, I am so unhappy!'

It was now the turn of Lucile to become the consoler. At what bad just been said her heart had become light, though a tear still trembled in her eye. Her blood now bounded along her veins in joyous pulsations, like dancers to the beat of enlivening music. The melody of happiness was flowing through her whole being, and even the sorrow and dejection of her companion was only a light shadow over the sunshine of bliss which had so suddenly fallen upon her. Ob! joy of joys! she now might love where she knew herself to be loved in feturn, but without treachery to her friend, and without shame before others!

Oh! joy of joys! He, around whom all her bright and loving thoughts bad of late so much clustered, was in turn enamored of her own poor, undeserving self! What happiness to think of it! How it might be dwelt upon by day, and dreamed of by night!

Nevertheless, toward Marion she r.ow felt all the genuine sympathy of a true friend. 'My dear Marion,' she exclaimed, 'you must—indeed you must—tell me all that gives you sorrow, and you will see bow your poor Lucile can love and watch over vou!' 'Ah! good and tender heart!' said the other, 'I knew I could tell my inmost thought to you. I love (she whispered), I love—do you hear? dearly love Richard! and papa has been so unkind to him, and so severe to me! He said it was dishonorable for him to act as he did, knowing that I was betrothed to Arthur! I told my father that I and Arthur did not love each other that wo bad parted that he belonged to yow! But he would not listen to me, made me take his arm, and come away! It was indeed too, too bard! •And Richard, dear Richard, I fear lias gone away in sorrow, and perhaps in anger! Oh! how I wish I bad told papa this morning how It was! But he is so atern—has so set his heart upon my mar riagewith Arthur, that I dreaded ta see how he would think of a change. Oh! I am so, so wretched!' 'Calm yourself,dear Marion perhaps when he sess Arthur, it will all be ex plained.' 'That is what frightens me too. Arthur is so proud and thet) papa is so quick, I am afraid something dreadful will be done!' 'No,' said Lucilp 'be sure nothing dreadful shall be done! I willsp-jakto my father about it or—or I will speak myself to your father, who has never yet denied :ne anything.'

We will not, however, for the present, follow the train of mutual condolences and explanations which took place between the two young people. Suffice it to say, that after a iong period of weep inar, of sympathy, of caressing, and efforts at consolation, the mind of Marion was brought at last to 1)9 a little more composed and she laid herself down to obtain, if possible, a short period of sleep. Lucile watched solicitously by her side. When at length, however, slumber came to close the eyes of the excited sufferer, she softly ?^ole from the room, with the purpose of doing as she had half promised she would. She would see Colonel Belden herself, and at whatever sacrifice of maidenly reserve it might cost, to explain to him tho new and true relations, and wishes of all concerned. With this object, she accordingly went firth. In the outer room, she found her father, reclining upon a rude conch of pelts, and tired with his recent journey and exertions, sound asleep. She went gently to bis side, kissed hl» trembling Hps, parted the thin white locks on his forehead, and breathing a prayer of blessing over bim, went out.

The day was already over. All objects were dim in the growing shadows of evening. To her listening ear, a universal silence appeared to prevail. During her short sojourn there, she bad become accustomed to those sounds wbich in the evening, ao2 in the woods, are usually heara so that they now only seemed a part of the dewy hush of nightfall itself, and In no wise to drown or even to interfere with whatever echo might at that time vibrate through the air.

Stepping forth then, with the bright stars just emerging from the pearly luster of the ak/, the sound of distant voices did not fail at onoe to attract her attention. Not doubting that they must be from those whom she sought, she hastened forward.

Bat before we follow her steps any further, we must revert, tor a short spaas, to other events which had lately transpired.

After along conversation with Mr. Valcour, Colonel Belden had left him

TERRE HALITE SATURDAY EY EN IN \i MAIL.

and gon« forth with the purpose of meeting Arthur Walcott. By irquiry of Brigbam. he learned that the young man was somewhere about the Rock Spring, as it wis usually rilled. Thither he at once bent his step*. Ashe approached, Wnlo-tt, who was. in truth, walking there, caine forward to meet bim. 'You may have obs*\ived, sir,* the old gentleimn'began, 'that ray manner toward you since morning, has slightly changed, come now for tbe purpose of having a full explanation and I will take it upon me to say that unless some satisfactory solution of affairs be given, my present deportment toward you must, for the future remain unchanged.' •I am sorry,'answered Walcott, 'if any thing I have done has caused an unfavorable change In your sentiments toward me. I even tbink I know to what you would refer. But to prevent all misapprehension, I beg of you first to state frankly and fully what it is in my conduct that you disapprove.' 'I will first ask of you, sir, if it be true that you already divine the cause of my dissatisfaction, whether you think it quite manly or generous to require me to speak plainly of so delicate a subject as my daughter's affections and her future welfare?'

As we *ave hf'n ha*.l oc a^ion to ob Ferve, Wabsott's temper was none of the gentlest and the blood now mouuted into his forehead at the words and man ner wbich tbe old gentleman seemed inclined to use toward him.

With some effort, however, he man aged to restrain his feelings, and he still replied with considerable forbearance. •I believe then, sir, that you think have not treated your daughter bonora bly, or yonrself "with becoming respect? If "this is so, I will give you what explan ation 1 can and I trust that you will not, in the end, utterly disagree with me.' 'That is to sav,' interrupted the testy colonel, 'that yo acknowledce my suspicions to be just, and you are willing to ask my permission to sneak ontof obligations which ou voluntarily assumed.' «Col®nel B^d«n,'said the young man, thus fevetelv pushed, and now in his turn becoming somewhat excited at the unjust imputations of the other,'Colonel Belden, I am not accustomed to bear language such as you see fit to use, and I beg of you to remember the difference between our ages. If yon cannot address me except in terms dishonorable for me to listen to, I shall beg the privilege of terminating this painful interview at once, and here.' •Painful to you, no doubt, it is,' replied the other '*s painful as any culprit's exposure but if you suppose that because I am old you can treat my daughter with baseness, or me with contempt you are much mistaken." 'I beg of you, sir, for the sake of your daughter, 'if not forme,' replied Walcott,'to refrain from such language. Justice to her I am determined to render, even though you load me with injurious epithets. Whfn that shall be done, I shall feel more at liberty to meet your personal charges, or to leave you to make them to other ears than mine.' 'That is all very fine,' replied the irritable old man, not unaffected, l.owever, by tbe tone and bearingof Wh1c tt 'but where the devil are your excuses? I can hardly believe you have grown to be a craven that will neither explain nor hack up his conduct with his couragf?' 'I shall cerlainly not do the last, whether it be nociossary or not,' said Walcott 'and if you will but hear me for a moment you can better judge of the proper course to be followed, in any case.' •Curse me,'exclaimed thmother, 'bnt this is almost enough to drive one mad! Here you have already had half an hour and am no wiser or better satisfied then wben I first began.' 'Unless you \^11 listen,' said Walcott, now determined to bring tbe interview to a point, 'you will never be satisfied. Your daughter and myself were contracted to each other when very young, and wben neither of us knew our own minds. We have never been attached to each other as those should be who are to be man and wife. We are not so now. Our mutual esteem, I trust, is great but there, all feeling stops. I am now (excuse my directness) deeply at tached to another. But even this should not have inteifered with my honorable fulfillment of all obligations to you and yours, but that Marion herself, unsolicited by me, arid almost against my entecaties, formally released me from all ties, and almost gave me a dismissal. There, sir, you have the whole story, which I could have wished to on me from other lips, but which you have thus rudely forced from mine. I am not reprehensible for feelings over which I have no control but my conduct I could control, and did regulate according to ray conventional duty until discharged from it. These are all the circumstances with which I have any concern, and you may now make the most of them.'

Having said this the young man turned to move away, for be felt pained and humiliated beyond measure at the views which Colonel Balden seemed determined to take of the matter, and the language he seemed inclined to use in reference to it 'Stay, young man,' Colonel Belden exclaimed, as the o.ber was going off 'am I then plainly to understand that all this silly and romantic arrangement has been made by you and my foolish or generous daughter, and that without consulting me? It is easy enough to delude a girl—to work upon her sympathy, or to awaken ber pride but, sir, you will find that I am not so easily disposed of.' 'I don't know,' said Walcott, 'what you mean by working upon tbo sympathies of your daughter. Ood knows I have never done so!- But. as you do not seem disposed to view tbe affair reasonably, I shall again beg leave to withdraw.' •How tbe devil do you expect to withdraw so long as I remain here, and insist on your staying till tbe business is settled? You must take me for an old fool, indeed!' 'I take you, sir,' answered Walcott, 'for a gentleman, who is forgetting tbe respect due to himself, and a little ot what is due to me bnt, above all, I take you for the father of Marion.' •Ah! you do all that, do you? Well, then, let me see what it is you propose to do?' 'I propose to leave you. at all events, till you are more yourself.'

Waloott here again turned to, walk away. The old man, in bad humor from the beginning, and more so as be felt such to have been tbe case—as be saw that tbe plans be bad so long dwelt upon, and considered settled, were melting away, like frost work in the sun—that a new scheme of life for his daughter bad been thus unexpectedly opened-—irri-tated, almost beyond oontro!, by all these circumstances, stepped hastily before tbe young man, ana, with his cane, was about to strike him—an act which might have been regretted for tbe life time of both—when there stepped between him and the object of his animosity another form which induced bim to

w*

Before him, In fact, he now saw, in tbe uneertain light of evening, tbe person of Lticile Valcour-^-one of the causes of his suspicions, and, as be imagined, one of tbe frustraters of bis hopes. But he could not strike ber—a fra*l and gentle girl. He could not even find it in his heart to speak harshly to her. In ber look and bearing there was so much of confidence, so much goodness, so much that was pure and beautiful, that the anger of the old man was at once dissipated.

She did not pauss to inquire what had happened. She would not know that anything unpleasaat bad taken place. She approached bim at once, and, taking one of his bands in bers, she exclaimed: 'You inust come with me a little while now, dear sir. We have all missed you so much! It's a pity if I am to be treated any longer in this cavalier way, and not get any attention from you. You used to like me better!' •Why, Lucile. my poor child, how strangely you ulk. You do not know, perhaps, that I was engaged—deeply engaged with Arthur—with Mr. Walcott, and that we have important affairs to settle?' 'Yes, sir, I know all about it,' she replied 'but you shall not look sterulv at me! You shall not frighten me as you did Marion! I am determiaed to stay by you till I see you smile as you used to at me.' •Lucile,' said he, 'I repeat that you do not know what you are saying, or what you interfere with.' •I know, sir,' she replied, with spirit, 'that you have UDjastly wounded the feelings of the best and tenderast of daughters that you have almost driven to desperation one of the best and most honorable of men, and are perhaps on tbe brink of doing tbe same with another that you are willing to make enemies of all who love and esteem you best, merely for tbe Bake of carrying out an old plan for your daughter's welfare, which could now only make her unhappy for life.'

During this short colloquy, Walcott had availed himself of the interrupMon which it had caused, to take his depar ture, as ho had intended to do before. Meanwhile, the old colonel bad been slowly approaching the house, before which they now stcx»d. 'But Marion, the poor, deluded, rejected Marion, my daughter, what is to become of her? What will the world say?' he asked, as if for tbe first tiihe his mind beg tu to contemplate the possibility of a caange, and to consider its consequences. 'Have you been so blind, sir,' she asked, 'as not to see that she has for a long time, probably unknown to herself cherished the memory of another much more than she regarded the actual pres ence of Walcott?' 'Whom do you mean?' the old gentleman asked. 'You can not mean Dick, whom I just now drove off, with too much—precipitation, perhaps?' 'Why, whom else could I mean? Didn't you see that he was attached to Marion and was it kind or just*to punish him for his admiration?' •But my lively young lady,' he replied •that is not a precise statement of the case then, I supposed he was treacherously endeavoring to thwart me, and to supplant Arthur and when I came just now to learn from tbe latter that it was as good as if it bad been an understood thing between them, I confess it was a little too much for my patience.' 'But it will not, I hope, be too much for your forgiveness, will it? Promise me that.' •Why, true,' he replied, 'when I come to think of it, Dick is, after all, a very clever fellow, well bred, gentlemanly, possessed of fortune enough and, and— by the Lord! on tbe whole I think I would rather prefer him! And that infernal Arthur—no, that won't do either. He's not as bad as thatfwould come to. Perhaps, miss, you'll expect me to apologize to him to?' 'Certainly, sir,' she replied confidently 'of course you'll apologize' 'No, I shall do no such thing, then!' he answered. 'But, sir,' she said, 'recollect that you almost struck him! Thiak of that! You would not listen to him you would not accept of his explanation you drove him to madness by your harshness, and then, you al most—^almost forgot that you were a gentleman, by attempting to use your cane. Ob! mv good sir! Remember, if you had 5one that—remember, you would never have forgiven yourself or him, unless he bad shot you for it!' 'I believe,' he now said, somewhat thoughtfully, 'I believe you are right, my little monitor, after all. Arthur was always a little high spirited, and I should not have pushed bim quite so closely. But go and see if he is now in tbe house, for I must make it all right at once.

Lucile hastened away with a glad heart, but in a moment afterward, returned to say that he wa* not there. They then made inquiry of Brigham if he had seen him, but found that be had not. All looked about in the vicinity hut be was nowhere visible. At this circumstauce, Lucile began to look a little blank. However, she comforted herself with the hope that be must soon return from wherever ne might be. So they went into tbe cabin, and into tbe room where impatient Marion was waiting in anxiety to know what had bee the result of Lucile's mission. The latter appeared as a messenger pf joy and forgiveness. Behind her came Colonel Belden already almost reconciled to tbe new state of things. With the characteristic selfisbnesss or egotism of age, be bad imagined that nobody's views or wishes were to be consulted as much as his own.

But now when he found his plans utterly uprooted, he yielded before invincible necessity, and began to face the new prospect which arose in tbe future. It had soon begun to appear to him colors almost as glowing as tho»e of tb last. It was not long before be was tbe full tide of pleasing anticipations in regard to it. So many of tbe unselfish feelings of a father, bo*ever, were awakened by the sight of the swollen eyes, tbe trembling lips, and the sorrowful attitude of his daughter, as he came in, together with her appealing glance of apprehension, tbat his heart began to relent, and he felt ready to accuse him. self of having acted tike a brute in bis barsb deportment toward ber.

As he approached her, nn» l^ok gave her an assurance of this, and she sprang to his arms exclaiming: •Oh! my dear, good father! now you forgive and love vour foolish and wicked child again! Oh! how good and kind you are! You must never be so severe with me agaio. dear father, or it will break my heart! But I knew you could not be so long!' 'Qusb! mypoor child!'said tbe old man, much affected 'hash! I now know all. You shall not have any more cause for apprehension from me. I see these arrangements are still made in spite of tbe cares of foolish parents. Bat there! Don't b!asb and tremble aeain I am not going to chide you a second time.'

Thus was tbe domestic storm which had overshadowed tbe last few boars cleared awav. All the prospect before the young people seemed now to be fair

.' 5*

and promising. No cloud obscured It. No cloud? Stay a moment—where was Richard?—and where was Arthur? Where was he who, for tbe last few days had been all s«lf denial and self sacrifice for others? Was he thus turned away in contumely and contempt, wben danger and trouble were over?

He mustsoon return. So they thouirht. No one said it, but all thought it. Yet he did not return. Hours passed by. It was late atnight. All had sat up, with out saying so, for him. At last came the hour of retirement. It was with much uneasiness that Colonel Beldeu and his daughter betook themselves to rest.

As for Lucile, it is hardly necessary to say tbat ber pillow was bedewed with many tears. She apprehended, she knew not what and it was long after midnight before sleep, in mercy, wrapt her senses in forgetful ness.

1

[TO BE CONTINUED.},. Si

THE DEATH LOTTER Y.

The Story of the Afeir Massacre in the Texan struggle. .r,

From the Houstoa (Tex.) Telegram. The events recorded below took plane at Salado, Mexico, March £8th, 1843, when seventeen Texans of the Meir expedition weae shot by order of the Mexi can authorities The story is told by a correspondent who signs himself R. P. H., of Blacco, Texas, a brother of one who drew a white bean:

One hundred and fifty nine white beans were placed in tbe bottom of the mug, and seventeen bla°k ones placed upon the top of them. The beans were not stirred. Such was their anxiety to execute Capt. Cameron, and perhaps the balance of tbe officers, that firs'. Cameron and afterwards the other officers were made to draw a bean each from the mug in this condition. Cameron, in the act of drawine first, said with his usual coolness: 'Well, boys, we have to draw, let's be at it.' So saying, he thrust his hand into the mug and drew out a white bean. Next came Colonel Win. F. Wilson, who was chained to him then Captain William Ryan, and then Judge F. M. Gibson, all of whom drew white beans. Next came Captain Eastland, who drew a black one, and then came the balance of the men. They all drew their beans with that manly dignity and firmness wbich showed them supeiior to their condition. Some of lighter temper jested over the bloody tragedy. One &aid, 'Boys, this beats raffling all to pieces.' The knocking off the irons from tbe unfortunate told who they were. Poor Robert Beard, who lay upon the ground sick, said, 'Brother, if you draw a black bean I'll take your place.' The brother said, 'No, I am stronger and better able than you.' Several of the Mexican officers who officiated in this cruel violation ot theit country's faith expressed great dissatisfaction thereat, and some wept bitterly. Soon alter tne fated were placed in a separate courtyard, wben about dark they were executed. Several of our men wer? permitted to visit the unfortunate previous to the execution, to receive their dying requests. Poor Major Cooke said, 'Boys, I told you I never falied to draw a prize and then he said to Judge Gibson, 'Say to my friend that I died in grace.' Judge Gibson was so much affected at this last parting that he showed it lrom his tears. Tiie Major said, 'They only rob me of forty years,'and then sat down and wrote a sfiiwible and dignified letter to Gen. Waddy Thompson, the United States Minister iu Mexico, and knowing that his remains would be robbed of his clothes after his death, drew off his pants and handed them to bis surviving comrades and died in his underclothes. Poor Henry Whaling, one of Cameron's lest fighters, said, 'Well, they don't make much of me anyhow, for I have killed twenty-five of the yellow bellies.' Then, demanding his dinner in a firm tone, saving that 'They will not cheat me out of it,' he ate hear'ily, smoked a cigar, and in twenty-five minutes was launched into eternity.

Our interpreter, who was permitted to remain with them to the last, says tbat •fifteen times they wounded that iron nerved soul, Henry Whaling, and it would seem that Providence had a special care in prolonging bis existence, that he might demonstrate to his enemies the national character they had to contend with for he gritted bis teeth at and defied them in terms of withering reproach, until they placed a gun to bis head and blew his brains against the wall'. Such was the effect of this horrible massaore upon their own soldiers, who were standing as a guard upon the wall above, that one of them fail.led and came near falling over, but was caught by bis comrades.

Poor Terry, quite a youth, but in spirit a giant, said that 'he was perfectly willing to meet h's fate tbat lor his country he had fought, and for her glory he was willing to die:'and turning to the officers be said: 'After the battle of San Jacinto my family took one of your

Eim,

risoner youths, raised and educated and this is our requital.' Edward Estu spoke of bis fate with coolness. Cash said: 'Well, they murdered my brother with Col. Fannin, and they are about to murder me.' 'Tell the officers to look upon men who are not afraid to die for their country.' Captain Eastland behaved with tbe most patriotic zeal. He desired that his country should never l»y down her arms until the most ample reparation and her freedom was obtained. Major Robert Dunham said he 'was prepared to die, and would to God that be had a chance to do the same thing over again tbat he gloried iu the demonstration they bad made, which showed Texans without arms to be more than equal to Mexicans with them.' Jatnes Ogden, with his usual equanamity of temper smiled at his fate and said/I am prepared.' Young Robert W. Harris behaved in tbe most unflinching manner, and called upon bis companions to avenge tbe murder, while their flowing tears and bursting hearts, invoking heaven for their witness, responded to tbe call. I have the utmost confidence ttbat this pledge, so solemnly plighted, wiil be redeemed. Thev one and all invoked their country to do both them and herself justice.

Just previous to the firing they were bound together with cords, and their eyes being bandaged, they were set upon a log near tbe wall, with their backs to tbeir executioners. They all begged the officers to shoot them in front, and at short distance, tbat 'the/were not afraid to look death in tbe face.' This they refused to do,fired at several paces, and continued tbe firing from ten to twelve minutes, mangling these heroes in a manner too horrible for description.

"Axoklof

jwoht"

is what Dr. Bull's

Cough Syrup has been termed by parents, whose worrying and cooghing children have been soothed and cured, and secured sweet slumber by using this excellent remedy.

—Rheumatism, Neuralgia, Lumbago. Sciatica, Rheumatic Gout, Nervous and Kidney Diseases positively cured by Dr. Fitter's Rheumatic Remedy—a Physicians specialty 42ye«n, never fails when taken as directed. P. M. Donnelly, agent. mar7-ly

THE OLD MAID'S PROGRESS. At 15. Anxious for coming out, and the attentions of the other sex. 16. Begins to have soma idea of the tender passion. 17 Talks of love in a cottage and disiuterosted affections.

IS Flatters herself in love with some handsome man who has flattered her. 19. Is a little more diffident on account of being noticed. 20. Commences being fashionable. 21. Still more confident in her own attractions, and expects a brilliant establishment. 22. Refuses good offer because he is not a man of fashion. 23. Flirts with every young man she meets.

4

24. Wonders she is not married. 25. Rather more ciroumspect iu her conduct. 26. Begins to think a large fortune not quite so indispensable. 27. Prefers the oompany of rational men to flirting. 28. Wishes to be married in a quiet way with a fashionable income. 29. Almost despairs] of entering the married state. 30. Rather fearful of being called an "old maid!" 31. An additional love of dress. 32. Professes to dislike balls, finds it difficult to get good partners. 33. Wonders bow men can leave tbe society of sensible women—to flirt with chits. 34. Affects good humor in her conversation with men. 35. Jealous of the praises of women. 36. Quarrels with her friend who is lately married. 37. Thinks herself slighted in society. 38. Likes to talk of ber acquaintances who are married unfortunately. 39. Ill nature increases. 40. Very meddling and officious. 41. If rich, as a dernier resort, makes love to a young man without fortune. 42. Not succeeding, rails against mankind. 43 Partiality for oards and scandal commences. 44. Severe against the manners of the age. 45. Strong predilection for a clergyman. 46. Enraged at bis desertion. 47. Becomes desponding and* tikes to tea. 48. Turns all sensibility to cats and dogs. 49. Adopts a dependent relation to attend her feline and canine nursery. 50. Becomes disgusted with tbe world and vents all ber ill humor on her unfortunate relations.

'Ma,' said a little girl, 'do tbe men want to get married as much as the women do?' 'Pshaw! what are you talking about?' 'Why, ma, the laaies who come here are always talking about getting married the men don't. •'?*.'•

Hon. Warren Chase, the celebrated Spiritual author, says: Ring's Vegetable Ambrosia is the best hair invigorator I have ever tested. Having used it constantly for several years, my own experience and the testimony of many friends^ confirm its value, without the injury which accompanies many other hair tonics.

Warren Chase.

San Jose, Cal., April 18,1877.

BROWNS

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EXPECTORANT,

The old reliable re* edy for all Throat and Lung Diseases, is a soientiflc preparation, compounded from the formula of one of the most successful practicioners in tho western country. It has stood the test for last twenty years, and will effect a euro after all other Cough remedies have failed

Brown's Expectorant

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Never fails to cure Consumption in theear1 stages by subduing the irritation and Inflam ation in the Bronchial tubes, and even in the last stages it relieves the cough, promotes easy expectoration, subdues pain and Induces refreshing sleep, 4 'f ,tf

Brown's Expectorant

Is unrivalled In cases of whooplag cough. If tued early, and continued as tho ca»o in ay require, it robs the disease of its distressing character, averts itt common evil consequences, and shortens its course by

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Brown's Exnectorant

Instantly and permanently cures thf most violent coubh, and the flr«t dose, if taken Just before going to bed, will Insure a good night's sleep.

Brown's Expectorant

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Is warranted to do all that Is claimed far it. Hundreds of the mom prominent citizens ourclty have usei It for yoars, and give it tbe highest praise.

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