Harper's Weekly 1858-12-18: Vol 2 Iss 103

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lotel. ic and atten- vist in 0. ata to the tence ; evoted raphic ims of pposed accom- t judg- thfully ine ex- sof the ons, he hment, e, sur- r white sly to further o the shed in ome of jay. ossible, he pro- sn land- su pervi- com bin- perfect. n under first to Photog- s in the y scien. his pic- » of any is of the ; where, forth to ted, that us of the sraph re- delicate d beauty in water a brush, eresting thers de- ‘h as pre- ledge of URNEY is stel, Wa- talented ns can be any size pm life. atesmen, e seen in rollection ographic ion of the ins to the f his new lans he Photogra- he imita- h, delica- uble in its rivalship y York. NGS, Mustrated plishers. [ON TS, RY; ae illus- TSNILE acs. Vou. IL.—No. 103.] ADVERTISEMENT. Scpscrizers whose subscriptions end with the close of the year are reapec tfully requested to renew them in time, so as to avoid delay in the transmission of the pa- per. Their attention is directed to the advantages offered to clubs, viz. : One copy for one year costs. $2 50 Five copies * “6 ‘6 ass 29 00 Twelve sé 66 sé o¢ 20 00 Twenty-five tag ee ate LO OO An extra copy will be allowed to ey- ery person who forms a club of TweLve subscribers. Considering the variety, amount, and permanent value of the matter contained in every number of Zarper’s Weekly, it is the cheapest periodical ever issued. It will be the endeavor of the Publishers to render it still more valuable during the coming year. They are stimulated to fresh effort by a circulation which, amounting already to over 76,000 COPIES, teadily on the increase. =o Bn OUR SPECIAL EUROPEAN CORRE- SPONDENCE. Cuatzav pe W —, November, 1555 I Am among the chateaux, and happy to be so in this cold November weather, for they are well warmed by caloriferes in the passages and spark- ling wood fires in the chimneys; and the long evenings are agreeably spent in this choice and in- timate society. Time enough by-and-by for Paris theatres and Paris soirées. The Emperor remains in his Chateau of Compiegne until the end of the CANDIDATES FOR THE BOARD OF | | | | } i gy “ c ‘ c we Ta rv. a%. fda ¥ NEW YORK, SATURDAY month. Why should I not follow this illustrious and remain here ? exam € I accompanied my hosts, the other day, to a din- ner at the Duke de W The party was not large—only some of their country neighbors, but among these are some of the most polished and ugreeable persons of Paris society. The absen f all Imperialists allowed recent political e1 to be discussed with more freedom than would have been courteous under other circumstance Portugal and the affair of the Charles-Georges, and the spirited and sensible letter which the | _— ror has addressed to Prince Napoleon upon the subject of this free negro emigration, which, it is evi de nt, was as little free as possible—these, and, above all, the prosecution of Monsieur Montalembert, were descanted upon with that indescribable ease and wit, and at the same time shrewdness, which give such a charm to French conversation, very much degenerated, as I suppose it is, since its palmy days of fifty or sixty years ago, but still, thanks to the readiness with which their language aids their tal. ent, by far the most perfect of colloquiel exhibi- tions. It is said the Emperor is in a devout mood, and has made this manifestation of his horror of the slave-trade as a set-off against his unwilling ness to interfere in the Jew Mortara case against the decision of Pops and cardinals. As for Count Montalembert, | ‘tink England and the English are so disliked by all parties in France that } would have met with more sympathy if he was to be tried for abusing rather than for praising thei: faithful allies. The Emperor is supposed not to have wished to notice this publication, but to have been urged on to do so by his ministers. I doubt this. The prosecution seems to me quite in har- mony with all Louis Napoleon's political acts that absolute and bold repression, without regard to consequences, of all offenses and insults, more or less disguised, emanating from the press, and di- rected against his rule and government. He said it should be so in the beginning of his assumption of supreme authority, and he has kept his word. Have you noticed, lately, some impertinent re- marks in one of the Paris newspapers in regard to America and Americans? I think they are rath- er indicnant on tbis side of the Atlantic at our Se Rs W, A src, . ee 7 > AO ee Orel 7 Sek ~ OG” EF Sop rine SR — eo Te "7 : , DECEMBER 18, 185 selournas oF @rvuuzaTt0¥ having presumed to measure ourselves with Eu- ropean diplomatists and secure a prior treaty with China and Japan Then, too, the French dislike the idea of sympathy and a good understanding existing between the English and the Americans. In the first place, they can not understand it, for ‘ they consider them natural enemies: and as all Frenchmen think we should never have been a na- tion but for their potent aid and gracious permis- si they think it ungrateful of us to oppose their policy or ideas in any way I am not sorry to see this feeling springing up in France about Ameri cans, particularly if it could tend to make the lat- ter more regardful than they have hitherto been of the holy bond which must ever unite them with the English— they be ing the sol possessers of libe rty and its institutions—those rights which make men, in the true sense of the word, of the English and their descendants—and which circumstance, if the will of the two nations were united, and their ma- terial resources combifted, would not only make them a bulwark against all aggression, but the dic- tators and regenerators of the world. You will per- haps think I am unjust in claiming for ourselves and cousins the s bravely holds ole possession of “1 lom, since Sardinia on her way, and Prussia has changed her course, and the vessel promises to nobly obey her helm ; and there are other symptoms in other lands. I grant there is hope in all this; I have not space here to unfold my thoug content my but as I ht, I muet elf with repeating my belief that En- gland and America are the only countries where true liberty exists You probably know what a * faare part, as they are commonly called, is, but for such of your read- ers as do not I willdescribethem. It is a’printed no- tice, sent to one’s acquaintances in France, of the events in the family, of births, marriages, and deaths, and calling upon you to rejoice or to mourn with them accordingly. Among a number of such papers sent to me here to-day by my concierge is one which has « » tou hed and sade lened mx (1 mean an obituary notice) that I am tempted to transcribe it for vou and them, to give vou the little I know of the history of the young creature whose early death it announces: ‘Monsieur Joseph Dunon and Mademoiselle Adele Dunon infor you of the death of Mademoi selle Marie Dunon, their ind-duughter and sis- ter, who died at Puris the th of October, 185%, aged twenty-one vears Pray for her soul Opposite to the apartment I have eccupied for several years in the Rue d at Paris, is the rather humble shop of a modiste and lingére It has changed hands lately; but five or six yeara ago it was occupied by a coarse-looking woman of unpre possessing mien an L re } ilsive oot nienance, named Michel, and wh ness by a young girl, ar isted in her busi- ary contrast werself, and whom every one remarked for her gen- tle, subdued air, and pretty face and form. She was called the niece of the woman Michel, whe, by-the-way, had a bad reputation in the quartier, urah and exacting toward Ma- rie and her younger sister Adéle, who also worked in the shop A bachelor should net be supposed and was said to be | to have much to do with modistes, but I had often little matters to arrange and commissions to exe- cute, in which I asked counsel and aid from my neighbors, to whom i became very well known It was a pleasure to me, when returning from my lub before dinner, to see, through the lighted wia- dow of the shop, Marie diligently plying her nee dle, with her little sister Adéle, who had not “ her fatal gift of beaut, sitting as close to her as she could, or in the summer evenings, to see them in the door-way of their little shop, their arms around each other's waists, and breathing such air as the narrow street afforded The woman Michel nev- er left them until they were locked up in their lit- tle entresol bedroom at night, and then she always went out until a late hour, probably to one of the minor theatres. On Sundavs, after mass, she took the girls to a distant part of Paris, to visit their only remaining parent—their paternal grandfather. This was their only recreation; and sometimes, if it rained, they were deprived of this. It was from this cause that I had made the acquaintance of Jo- seph Dunon One evening I went into the shop to inquire about some fichus they had in band for me. Madame Michel at the moment was in the back shop, and, from the odor, engaged in cooking their supper, when Marie said to m« Monsieur is & ood I am very uneasy about grandpapa. EDUCATION OPPOSED TO READING THE BIBLE IN SCHOOLS 9

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Se, HARPER'S WEEKLY. rain¢ n Sunday we could not go to see | 1, and when that hia ns he generally manages | pele | us @ messag ut this is Thursday, and | we have heard nothin. ile is so very old; and t! . ras . ; \ 3 1 iz le . s. ae | will » and see about him to-morrow,’ I said. She j r ickly gave me the address, almost in a whisper, > Madame Michel looked suspiciously in at the door. Five or six months after this I saw, on two or three occasions, a gentleman's carriage standing at the shop door, and a gray-headed, confidential- looking man-servant in earnest conference with Madame Michel. 1 saw Marie less often in the shop; and one evening I noticed her there, evi- dently weeping, though her face was turned from the window, and I felt she was introuble. I was called away about this time for a short interval, and the evening I returned I saw neither Marie nor AdMle in the shop. I did not like to attract notice to my acquaintance with my opposite neigh- bors, so I was not the first to allude to the subject ; but when I went in that night to my concierge’s lodge for my bed-candle she burst out ** Prett ‘doin +3 we have had here in Monsieur’s absence. Marie Duron has been sold by that she deril opposite for ten thousand francs. I saw her with my own eyes last Thursday morning at five o'cl k w ep , rls , and almost forced into a carriage by nan-servant, who has been negotiating the a r these three weeks, and who srried her away to his master, I did not mind Mére Michel, though she did call me ‘a meddle- 8 fool,’ but I went avd stood by the door of the carriage, and I said, ‘Mademoiselle Marie, if you want a fri nd, h 1.’ and she looked at me so pit ly and sa ‘N r mind me, Madame Bonor: but I ha placed my little sister there with the Sceurs Ci t the end of the street ; speak to her sometimes for my sake,’ and the car- riage drov ys * I was indignant at this recital. I could not sleep all night; and I determined the next morn- ing to to the g father, and back him up in remedy t foul crime. Accord- ingly ten o'clock found me knocking at old Du- non’s room door, up five pair of stairs. I found him sitting in a comfortable arm-chair, a warm fire in the chimney, excellent coffée, and other viands smoking upon the table for his breakfast, and he waited upou by the little daughter of his concierge —all of which, he told me with exultation after the first salutations were passed, he owed to the love and care of his little Marie, who had made a ! marriage, and gone to live at Strasbourg, having first placed her sister at school, and settled a good weekly sum upon him. He was afraid, he said, that he was too old to hope to see her again, and he should mies the sight of her pretty face ; but she was happy, and ‘it was well for her, and he must be content. Could I undeceive the old man? and what good would it effect? No; I came away leaving him in his delusion, and the next day I had these lines from Marie: “ Monsrzvr,—Do not undeceive grandpapa or my sister, who think I am happily married. 1 I have been sold, but not to an unkind master; and perbaps the holy Mother of God will listen to my prayer, and that I shall not live very long. ** Marie.” s have passed since then. I have sometimes seen Marie Dunon in the dusk of a summers evening g whirled to the Bois de Voulogne bv the side of a well-known Paris volup- tuary. Sometimes I have caught a glimpse of her ‘t and always sad face in a closed box at the opera.or the tres, and in company with the same individual. Iv I have met her at German watering-places, av always with the same well- known Cec t de The last time was this suminer at Bad 1 ind I thought I remarked n that her Cash as wrapped more closely * promenade, and that her iner and paler; but I never thought of death until I received this “ Faire Part.” Adieu, E—. around her in cheeks were th IN THE STREETS. I. », of the waving trees, Of the sunshine and the farming! Though it : Yet work is very alarming y be health, and it may be wealth, I bate the broad glare, when the people can stare At your ciothes by the light of the morning, I like the night best, when the fools are at rest, And I'm off at the earliest dawning. 1. Ob sing, if you will, of the musical rill, Of the meadow and the mountain! But the spot for my feet is the stone-clad street, And my music th ld Park fountain. When the night comes down on the glorious town, Without a thought on the weather, As bold as a hawk I start on my walk With « heart like a humming-bird's feather. TIL. The night hath a spell that answers me well, It puts all m If my clothes n @ level; t sult, or the holes in my boot, Why, the eritie can go to the For why should I care; the street and the air Are as free to me as to any, ith his jewels and gold, 6 Hever a penny. any « sight on the streets at night ! 1 the faster— An oath and a? for the fallen low, lord and master; A ree i h to a helpless wife, n | f yr daughter From a jolly | m ¥ as loud as he can Is yelling for brandy and water, ¥. It is capital fan, when the fighting is done, To see him go into the groggery. And the bar-keeper come, with his poisonous rum, And admiringly brash off his toggery. I admire it so, I invariably go To speak to the wife broken-hearted, In exchange for her frown I lay the law down That herself and the brute should live parted. VL And the street is the place for an omnibus race, If the driver has only been drinking— The chances are strong, as he dashes along, He will catch some old fellow unthinking; And then what a joke to see his leg broke, Or the life blown out like a taper! But the driver can't stay, so he hurries away, And reads it neat day in the paper. VIL I have a taste for a wasp-like waist, For a beautiful foot in a gaiter, So I go by night, w..en the gas shines bright, To the opera or theatre; These beauties I see, though they can not seewme As I erouch in the shade on the paving, I enjoy all the show, and as quietly go And rejoice with myself on the saving. VIIL But of all the delights that I dwell on of nights A well-kindled fire is glorious, *Tis peculiarly fine to see the light shine, And I can not help getting uproarious; Ah, ther for the fun of a scamper and run! And the bells, how they shout in the chorus! llow I pull and I try to screw on the plug, Lest Forty gets water before us! ™X In the sleet and the snow it is splendid to go And stand near the blaze till the morrow, To get thoroughly warm in the midst of the storm, And watch its last glimmer in sorrow. Then of all the delights that I wish for of nights The clash of the bells is the greater; ‘Tis a music most dear to the listening car Of the shivering watcher and waiter. » & You may sing, if you please, of the perfumed breeze That floats over hill-side and heather ; The country may do, with its flowers, for you, Ac long as "tis suyshiny weather ; But the town, like a bride that is decked in her pride, Shall blossom and bloom forever; Through every day the streets shall look gay, And the flowers shall fade on them never. HARPER’S WEEKLY. Saturpar, December 18, 1858. THE NATIONAL FINANCES. L.IGHTEEN months ago the public debt of 4 the United States but slightly exceeded twenty-five millions of dollars. Now it exceeds fifty-four millions, and it is abundantly evident that before we are a year older it will exceed sixty millions. ‘This is not the fault of the Government, or of the public policy of the country. There have been, within the past two years, no unusual and extravagant expenditures, no foreign wars, no enormous -outlays for unproductive works of internal improvement. On the contrary, the public expenditure lias been less profuse than usual; many wholesome projects have been postponed for the sake of economy; just com- plaints against foreign nations have remained unredressed ; several branches of the public service have been less efficient than they might have been had the functionaries in charge of them been remunerated with a less niggardly hand. The financial embarrassment in which the United States happen to be placed arises from no fault of the Administration. It springs simply from a failure of income. The United States derive the bulk of their income from two sources—the sales of public lands and customs duties on foreign imports. Unlike other civilized nations, they levy no di- rect taxes on their citizens, impose no pecunia- ry tolls on commerce, locomotion, industry, or agriculture. The receipts from customs are to those from public lands as 10 to 1, or, some years, a3 15 to 1. It may, in fact, be said, in general terms, that the customs revenue is the back-bone of the financial system of the coun- try. This revenue is dependent on the con- sumption of foreign products by the people of the United States. When they are poor and minded to economize they consume but a small quantity of foreign dutiable goods, and the rev- enue from customs falls off; when they are rich and feel like being extravagant their consump- tion of foreign goods increases, and the customs revenue is augmented in proportion. The first consequence of the revulsion of 1857 was to impel peeple cf every class to retrench their ex- penditure; it was this retrenchment which re- duced the public income and placed the nation in the attitude of a borrower. The President and the Secretary of the Treas- | ury naturally regard the system of loans, as a means of supplying the deficiency in the Treas- ury, to be inconvenient and unfair. It is not [Decemper 18, 1858. right that, in time of peace, we should throw upon frture generations the burden of support- iug the goyernment of the presentday. The therefore recommend an increase of duties om certain iaports, in order to swell the custéms revenue to an adequate figure. It is very doubtful whether this expedient would attain the end proposed. ‘The imposition of a duty on iron would, for instance, largely stimulate home production; and as the coun- try is not likely to be a large purchaser of rail- road iron for some time to come, it is quite pos- sible that a material increase in the duty might operate simply as a check on importation. So with other articles. The feeling of the people, just now, is to economize. If Congress con- trives to raise the price of this or that foreign fabric or commodity by means of a new tariff, it is quite possible that the public may dispense with its use. There was, till this year, no arti- cle regarded as so generally indispensable as tea; yet, as we showed the other day, since the revulsion the people of the United States have almost altogether dispensed with it, and have drunk coffee, in many instances, without sugar. It is quite doubtful, therefore, whether an in- erease of duties would necessarily produce an increase of revenue. Apart from this consideration, the plan of depending on fluctuating tariffs for a public in- come is, theoretically and practically, open to grave criticism. It is only a few years since the gravest evils were introduced into the gov- ernment by the superabundance of revenue ; it was only last year that the tariff was amended expressly in order to reduce the public income. Now it is proposed to increase the duties again. If, next year, trade revives, and importations recommence on the old standard, in 1859 Con- gress will again be called upon to reduce the duties. Thus the tariff of the United States will be perpetually changing, commercial cal- culations will be eternally liable to defeat from Congressional enactments, and the public rev- enue will oscillate regularly between injurious plethora and impending bankruptcy. Surely this is not the financial system which ought to prevail. There is no reason why at least an experi- ment should not be made to establish a system of direct taxation. There is no city or county in the United States which is not taxed directly for municipal, county, or State purposes. A federal tax would be understood at once; would be paid without flinching; and might be col- lected without ruinous expense. If it were found to work well the whole system of customs duties might be abolished without injury to any one, and with a manifest advantage to the com- merce of the country. Who will take the lead in pressing these views on the attention of Con- gress ? SHALL POSTAGE BE INCREASED ? Wuen the Government fixed the rate of post- age at three cents, irrespective of distance, and obliged letter-writers to pay the postage in ad- vance, quiet people, ignorant of politics, felt sat- isfied that ‘‘a finality” had been reached, and that they would hear no more of the postal sys- tem. It seems, from Mr. Brown's report, that we are as far from a settlement of the question as ever, and that some new and startling change is impending. The Secretary himself recom- mends the adoption of a uniform five-cent rate in lieu of the present three-cent one. It is needless to say that this proposal will meet with no favor either from the public or from Congress. The luxury of cheap postage has been too thoroughly relished to be now abandoned without a severe struggle. It is contrary to all experience to retrograde in such | a matter. We may have a two-cent rate; but | never a rate over three cents. Yet it is unreasonable to expect the people at large to pay three to four millions a year, as they are now doing, for the support of the Post- office. It is not fair that the people of New York, Massachusetts, Virginia, and Ohio should be taxed to this extent for the support of un- productive mail routes in thinly-settled portions of the country. A large item might be deducted from the Post-office expenditure were a little common sense exercised by Congress in the regulation of the franking and ocean mail systems. There is no reason why thousands of dollars should be paid out every year—as is the case at present —for the dissemination, under Congressional franks, of party political documents. If the party to be benefited by the circulation of these documents can not pay postage on them, let them stay where they are. It is monstrous to tax the people at large to pay for the transport- ation of the Hon. Jones's views on Kansas, or the Hon. Smith’s designs on Mexico. In the second place, the sums paid for ocean postage are out of all reason. We will not weary the reader by presenting the statistics of our ocean postage; but we are not exaggerating when we say that our ocean steamers receive from the Post-office Department, on an average, one thousand dollars, for a service which they would gladly perform for ten dollars, or even five dollars, for any merchant. ‘There is no | reason why mail matter should cost more to transport than flour, hardware, silks, or laces. anh lcs It should be charged, like other merchandise, according to bulk and weight; and go more should be paid for it than is paid for the freight of the most perishable and valuable kinds of merchandise. A very large proportion of the Post-office expenditure has grown out of the practice of voting, from corrupt motives, large subventions to ocean mail lines. If these two leaks were stopped the requirements of the Post- master-General on the Treasury would be great- ly reduced. For the rest, rather than raise the rate of postage, we would like to see the Post-office Department abolished altogether, and the busi- ness of carrying letters placed on the same foot- ing as that of carrying freight and passengers. We apprehend that no difficulties would flow from a transfer of the Post-office business to the express companies. They would carry let- ters more promptly than the Post-office. They would be responsible for their safe delivery, which the Post-office is not. They would do it quite as cheaply, probably more cheaply. And were the national Post-office, with its forty thou- sand hired servants, wiped out of existence, one of the most fruitful sources of political corrup- tion would disappear. THE FILIBUSTERS IN NICARAGUA. As was expected, a party of Walker's fili- busters have safely departed from Mobile, and are by this time on the soil or near the coast of Nicaragua. They will have to run the gaunt- let of the British men-of-war on the coast; but it is presumed that they know enough to evade capture by her Majesty's cruisers. Commodore Paulding is employed on more useful duty than arresting filibusters. So now the Nicaraguan question assumes a new phase. Those who know General William Walker have never placed any reliance in the assur- ances of his enemies that his sun had set—that his name would no longer be heard in connec- tion with Nicaragua. Whatever the man’s faults of heart or head may be, there is no doubt that his will is indomitable, his purpose fixed, and his energy very remarkable. Dur- ing his late visit here he made no secret of his intention to eat his Christmas dinner in Gran- ada; and considering every thing—the great courage of the man, the general sympathy the Southerners feel for his aims, the proverbial weakness of the United States Government, and the decided failure of the Nicaraguan efforts to reconstitute a native government, it would not be surprising if he kept his word. Five hun- dred Americans are quite capable of keeping Nicaragua in subjection. Already one hundred and eighty of them are either on the spot or near it; perhaps before this paper reaches the public eye the remainder will be en route. Without undertaking a defense of the fili- buster principle in the abstract, or of William Walker in particular, we will say that his res- toration to supreme power in Nicaragua would be by no means an event prejudicial to the in- terests of commerce and civilization. Since he left Nicaragua there has been no such thing as order or government there. Even the munici- pal government of the city of New York com- pares favorably with the late Hispano-native governments of Nicaragua. One set of rogues has succeeded another, and has traded, like its predecessors, on the only valuable asset Nicar- aguan governments can boast of—the transit route. It has been sold first to one, then to another; every body has been paid for it, no one has secured it to any of the purchasers, and it has never been opened. The people of the country are described as living in less terror of the return of Walker than their own Govern- ment inspires. Commerce, agriculture, pro- duction, and civilization are at a stand-still. Nor is there any ground for hoping that this is a mere transitory state of things. Experience teaches that anarchy, disorder, and industrial and commercial stagnation are the normal con- dition of the Spanish-American nation in Nic- aragua. So long as that magnificent country remains in the hands of its present possessors things can not improve. Walker has made many mistakes. There was a time when the whole civilized world would have gladly recognized his authority as ruler of Nicaragua. He threw away the opportunity. There was no necessity for him to involve him- self in a war with the neighboring States ; yet he did so, to his ruin. The transit route was essential to the prosperity of his empire ; yet he closed it. These mistakes have cost him all the vantage ground he once possessed. It may be that trouble has taught him wisdom, and that if fortune were again to set him over the State of Nicaragua he would neither quarrel with his neighbors, nor forfeit the esteem of foreign States, nor close the nat- ural avenues of commerce. If he adopted a new policy in these respects, it can not be de- nied that the world at large would be a decided gainer by his restoration. These speculations may, of course, be over- thrown by the capture of his ‘‘ emigrants” by British or American cruisers. But we should imagine that the naval officers of these two countries have some higher aim in life than the business of petty policemen. If the naval service of England and the United States offer LT a

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December 18, 1858. ]

HARPER'S WEEKLY. than this, “‘Jack Tar” | ition Ia You have heard of s , , 7:

ar l i Sept nber, had bett try I t some new tr ce — = > I : a ii as MEXICO AND CUBA ' whom Tue Presi d I ] I : . : aneous war ¢ M I : . r* v r to I t ‘ I 4 | \ ‘ cy nent overt! ‘ ( W ’ \\ . fort i J : ‘ ' Mm rather 1 tr ( { t : But — : I t fe“ D. ‘ , ' Zuloaga Ir. I ] ¢ ‘ I I his father ‘ i ; b Ju sas ‘ . | ’ ; , w > i But as t he on a 2 “« If I hea re q t very spect of his su to ans | | iam “4 ‘ e' { t Mi », the « ee « - fore h rT : . ale W.. as well D.G , ~ ) WV . . t Say ‘ ' , : ‘ nr © ‘ : . ‘ , B j ; r A WORD I | , | VI Naxecy D r = ; 7 at i t . y ‘ ; it “ ( \ | I . =t ‘' 1es to exa i ) t t I v ‘ y . ms ! r results l ‘ ’ ‘ ' - I ‘ ; 4 t } j j f t Sidne j . ch : | - ‘ R t { " ) | ing from vani i | | e* ’ | 4 G ‘ something ud itt ‘ ; yan « i places the . | ‘ , i i i ‘ 1 al i ome 8 : i V i ‘ ipat t we sy a ‘ as Mi ” 2 ‘ ‘ - ‘ . ve « : B . ( t ' nh ; i) | I j ri 4 ” 7 “ y laf + t Am ks, t , Mrs. Dobley has seen v of error as * ‘ : [ i i la apparently f a Cl saa forew ’ © : D. { »t forgetti at . il worwhis n I I f wees

r 4 , > , “ the I i Sta S I ~ ‘ game ' ‘ ess- board at (y Lb ‘ W i - ' ( , } l ' y 8 Am¢ i G ily Wa i t . engesg the f 10 ‘ es n of { m t 3 y t - t fa t i " . ' i «+ s 8 the tit U1 1 States citizen l ; : , 4 r T ] i T 1 T iat sof I | r ‘ a‘ , : 1 al A 4 $ 5 ) t whit ( if SI ! : | . ‘ pre saying the Black | ’ - States of this « Mex ( | | t , ' ‘ nee how AaBOW at Let us hope tha ire coming to al age , org - me By e I rty years M us been a scene of a ; ‘ agreeabl | Bos 8 rt 7 ial most uniform l unva 1 anarchy G . ¢ and ed i have e know t : i 1 | ‘ > ' ther t ‘ ‘ l has succeeded government without b : , : \ f , » r toll thes thas, ' , : ' ‘ | I Case s thou at « a to | t peop! wit it security to I | | . ‘ that } ‘ j the t : | lg ? t erty, without safety for foreign commerce Lhe He may ] r : I ‘ i peculatior . 8 . game was won by White n- of the Chur of which Zuloaga i r } . . \

f ; - y ple and eck : e ' i } } ‘ t : . ‘ . oss , : ft I , , 4 , . free of oneal at —_ > i iM i- : ‘ } ( ia “ un | j end } asi edi } I ' : re | . o: im £ : al SOI 1c ( 1 adi ; *_ : | ; ail . ‘ ¢ he Cs- £ 5 { » tr S I i ‘ } fl J : ld and ma ted to the ¢ » | oeain a ~ Fougeot be as n t M poss { ‘ ’ in- l \ } firm d . I | ™ p yas 4 1 If ( ress re- ieee . —_ ‘ | ) ' e it 4 icl- | t Ad : ‘ ~ 4 2- ; , that the country will ‘in I , H it of the book, and @ good picture of I ; I visi: of the 3 > P » of — « B i ¢ seat of the idnevs. of which Ben " ‘ five ! j of « é . ‘ to I it ‘ tl W md a f simile of Sir Philip's . 1e8 A is to ( i In t ‘ nt aA war : 4 . 7 ate f mse } I iy : essential « > of the \ u utisfactorily help to complete the work : } its between t United States and a leading Euro- : ; not lincer b« the artists resident in _ 7 { they ! 1 dor | t erar s i tl | ‘ ; f Sidt is partly anonymous only mn : , ‘ o , ‘ , » ite j the nie raakies eS - pean Power, it would be essential to the United publi nove, the the ini ; of the author's name are given at the of ag" ' ' : , t t 1 Tl . t | } 2 . | of the br ki ine for Life-s ar o s st Cuba This country does not of te ether ox it rks and hav , : ‘ Ls rly modest preface, and the dedica “ , es a rob t Ss urds of th land it ’ f . ¢} eu i¢ | impr emet rustee [ e inet te 1 to ) if | laras oO! ne 18% 5 Intl nm OAT ] nit r t ,7 does not betra he sex « be i A di na i jul " isa i | I } p . es » : - offers to buy it. a 1in will not sell hat 1s to leve ~ ‘ is j | ‘ | for l that we see a woman's fac ’ | . “i g* o~ j ; . . i re 1 for et ings t . ! and be done? The President requests Congress to | if it cor it is the reward of the t of t! loud; and it shall not be counted among the | - - , : - : >a . - . | onM \ ‘ the appropriate money enough to enable him to close L re Of course m t vays ‘ s of this youth whom History and Li 1

r of bargain in the event of Mr. Preston, tl e . " ‘ beat fe 1 . fomen af ‘ four vé s aft sis birt vom m the ern- | minister, being able to conclude one. Weshall | ™ But it i ‘ evidence of i " four years after his birth, a woman in t

|; noris success always e of mer ature | conspired to prai that three hur

} ‘ Pp SE The Ledger is 1cce ¢ 3 interior of a tant country collects the facts of pro- | see whether this request will be complie l with I 4 ; ee : . 7 : . , | ficers { ’ ) , 1 conductor knows precisely what |! reat oct } fe a weaves them into this simple and af ? : } F , still. If it is not, look out for another Lopez : ; fa Brool , “ vant t rea i t | t not ‘ . tiful stor ° me : D. G.’s or Walter § ri Perha man of so general a ver — il aterial f t rapt | . : i rn

con- | very weakness of ‘ K hing me a rooke is all ; \ Nic- « Lew, November, 1858 pou sto, cried Archim B , veral of his letters. The author | week's edith yt Street Ave | ®. | intry My Drar Locnern,—I venture to address you, asa | ™ He put himsel! posit - D.G.pr tt pt t Life mentions som f the other | a ., -‘ ; } : , mn . ey ’ ss rs friend of the public and of poor suffering humanity, to | to! ht a battle, 1 to serve n Now a f elligence ‘ Old inde | we vt OF her t ¢ , ask of you a little advice | General must decide for himself. He 1 that he k t | authors wh have | } rti “here ‘Tams , cman mm mercantile pr fession, | ut himself, : va I ‘ ul ~ ‘ anes mor | A OMA ADIES. BY A ; : one years of age, and of good fami I t ould er of nity. ness almost four ye interestin it. M

The Lounger is lencthening rapi But if D B rever the student come n Sidne tis : ae n't ‘ ; Upon W alpol none named ' t to pra . | i G. really feels willing to risk all, if ‘ ly n na tra fl t A rare mmet hose oan t

nce and dispatch. |

him- progress pace with my desires or willing to be pinched with hunger un dl i ical char ter. } . e ‘ , : per ‘ ‘ : ae - f abilities sh to keep me in the ix loubtfually to snap at anv kind of work that t i f sagd, asa i he fasl n 1 } yet dispensal let him come to New York a rapt land f his char . ‘ | was The ave I san do no better The | rh Ss me j t Christian her Sid was a ger M . ' } yet indulged my New York, at this I t, of im ] rar tleman in old Dekkar af i m all , ing pirations. who w te w rs—if \ He was born in 1554 | nt Oxford; wa ly ot ats | they could find them to write. 1 sat, let D Paris during the slaughter of St. Bartholomew f aught a and | |. caleulate his cha {1 t s hit traveled upon the Continent in Germany and Italy, J ' ( in to w | Don’t read about Keats I l partly th He rt La returned to England ' ; “es f would h iat y instance, a Goldsmith, at t 1 ] et 1 : tarved when he was twenty 1 ent as embassador t "a ir conquer have been the secret of their efore succeeding ' e tha f vou only Austria when he was t ntv-one: becat t}

nat- 7 ’ ts ¥ roust be ‘ the wne autho ; | " . ? : t : at a be that of the young author who, | . 1 have a good employment d t mistake vour to England, and P ted a ry 8 of patient labor, is at last enabled to bring . t T = ennui, which is incident to eve sa f } rT I i e de- mind a@ just appreciation of his merits and ee , . a te ole a . -- , | ee , 1 Oxf 1 ot \ P

- | starve hard enough, i Will at la eed If | friet f the great Willia f Oran ret : 7 f 1 ; - ' ’ i | i es of Great Men." They ‘all remind lo something el better At | t your f en rather favor ) i } '

, ‘ r pl ' : : ‘ ‘ : At 10t Misu r { i ie two per ceemes A cert —vogieng I uck, I pr . f 4 ‘ ' . » than forward lly a resolute 4 . 1 . naval »s offer

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oe i t : ‘ “ - trae © REPTILE: SU4 GLIMPSES AT LIFE INV WASHINGTON, CBTAINED THEOUGH AN EYE-GLASS BY PAUL POLKAFOOT My hotel is Willard’s. I go there somewhat as a matter of course, being a Northerner. I arrive av or so before the “ assembled wisdom” of the ets together in that wonderfully-bedizened rilt saloon yclept the Capitol, fecu Captain Meigg Because Willard’s is, par excellence, the Northern hotel of Washington. To be sure th National is ‘‘ kept” by a pair of enterprising Yan- kees, while I strongly suspect mine host Willard to be abselutely a Virginian. Never mind that As my young friend and pitcher, Fitz Alamod« of New York, says, Willard’s is the most nobby of all the Washington careransarics, and generally con- tains the biggest lot of foine gee-urls. Besides, tov, it is almost under the shadow of the Whit tiouse, and it is even possible, of a clear morn- to wet a sniff of the ravishing odors which arise iv the aristocratic kitchens around Jackson Square { met my old friend and patron, General |! he Rotunda, looking as rotund as ever, and even more rosy about the gills. The Generalis a South- eruer—an Honorable—owns a plantation, with lots of “niggers” therecnto appertaining ; has a wife and babies (ell at home, Mrs. General included) ; ways has a good appetite for dinner, and, after long and interesting series of experiments; has 1e to the conclusion that old Bourbon whisky, unadulterated with water, is rather beneficial to h than otherwise. General F—— may, there- f be considered as at the height of human fe- licity. His person confirms the truth of this ob- rvatio ‘i've got some of the genuine old corn-juice in y room, Polkafoct,”’ he said, looking at me kind- through his gold-t »wed Spex tacles. ** Come up en spoiled by drinking your thin Yankee pota- ions during the recess, the first swallow will make for a week. You want something of that sert. Polkafoot, to cive a generous flow to your blood, and fat you up; ’gad, you're thin as a 1 i to-night—room No. 1001—and if your palate hasn’t Lig ; i ! t razor You'll never make any thing, my boy, un- til HARPER'S WEEKLY. \ +h i HAIN rl OFFICE OF A FASHIONABLE HOTEL AT THE MEETING OF CONGRESS. becoming fat and pursy, like the model now set up | il you can get up a little more rotundity. Look | before me, therefore, was not agreeable. Delicate- at ine now The General glanced affectionately downward 5 at the visible parts of his own ample person, and somewhat intrusively, | thought, advanced one of | his stout, muscular legs, though at the same time he good-naturedly patted me on the shoulder. I can't say that I was pleased with the comparison thus instituted. 1 pride myself on having a some- wha gentleman of their ideal should be “ both slender and tall;” and as ity on their part, I have hi at elegant figure, you see. It is a sine qua non with the young ladies whem | affect that the young 1 satisfies this procliv- erto ‘‘ traveled” some- ly I hinted as much. ‘The General growled a re- ply, with rather more than his usual energy of speech, “ Bah! Polkafoot, I was nearly as stout as I am now when I married Mrs. General. ‘Gad! I think that was one of the very things she took into ac- count. A sensible woman wants a man, Polkafoot —notacrane. Lookatthatleg! It would mount, respectably, half a dozen young sprigs like your young friend Fitz Alamode there. Certain chalk- faced, silly, romantic young school-girls may pre- fer such attenuated specimens of humanity ; but a real woman, Sir, likes a man to have legs. (The what extensively “on my shape.” The idea of | General slapped one of his own, herewith, in a ca- I've equipped all my boys in that ; and, ’gad, I'll bet they’re the first things a flesh and blood woman sets eyes on you New Yorkers cultivate the—the—” As the General evidently hesitated for lack of a word, and I suspected what he wanted to say, I ventured to remark that the was doubtless what he meant ** That be hanged! the General snorted. mean that you cultivate the Shanghai pattern, in- stead of the flesh and muscle necessary to the order and happiness of society.’ | was meant by this allusion; cordingly proceeded to explain tinued, dogmatically, ‘*that the lack of proper | physical development among your city and the General ac- | THE WHITE HOUSE AND PUBLIC GROUNDS. [Drcemper 18, 1858. is the source of all sorts of evils in your social! world. What is the reason we hear, every once in a While, of some educated and accomplished young lady running off with her father’s coachman or an Irish hod-carrier, and thus overturning all the nat- ural and reasonable barriers which society has erected against the intrusion of the hoi pollot, eh? lil tell you. It’s because your legs are not stout enough to sustain the social edifice. Why did Mary Ann Boker go and marry John Dean? Be- cause, Sir, the women like a man to have a man’s physique—that’s why ; and they are not to blame for it, either. As for some of the other sores of society, still more lamentable in a moral point of view, they must be attributed to the same cause. What supports the—” rhe finality of the discussion was that we went to dinner together; and, in answer to an inquiry, I suggested claret to begin on. ‘* Too thin, Polka- foot—too thin altogether; but you shall have it if you like,” said the General, dogmatically, at the same time writing on a wine-card, as I observed, an order for one bottle of red Bordeaux and anoth- er of Burgundy. Then he handed the same to the expectant waiter, whom he called “‘ boy,” and who at once darted off without further instructions. I had just time to observe that the “ boy” in ques- tion was at least forty, and black as the Ace of Spades. Sn passant, | would remark that Mr. Willard’s waiters, in deference to the feelings of his anti-Slavery boarders, are all ‘‘ boys” of anoth- er color; namely, of the sort that, I believe, are invariably born with a shillalah iu one hand and a Democratic ticket in the other. They never cam ival Sambo as a table-waiter We sat long after the ladies had risen, and then ve started for the upper stories, to indulge in a weed apiece. On the way, in the ladies’ promen- le, I caught sight of an old acquaintance, one of the belles of the hotel. ‘**Do you know that lady yonder, General ? Now, Sir, I can confute your theories by a living sample of one who cares more about brains than legs,” said I, triumphantly. The General peered through his spectacles in the direction indicated, and answered gruffiy, but at the same time with a dull sort of enthusiasm, “ That’s Miss B——, the belle of Kentucky Fine woman, Polkafoot! Observe what an ex- panse of bare neck and bosom she displays, eh ? ‘Gad, it makes an old fellow young again to look at such living statuary! No need even to say, ‘ By your leave, Miss!’ ” ; “Very true, General ; but her companion is the one I mean, Miss L-—, of Baltimore. Her dress is a deal more modest, and though she’s a belle in her third season, I tell you she’s a girl of sense. Now, General, brains—” rhe remark was not finished, because at that moment I caught Miss L——’s eve, and immediate- ly got a friendly bow and hand-shake from her. Then she introduced me to Miss B——, who re-

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sponded with one of those formidable, «weeping bows, or courtesies, which form so cons}icuous feature of the Lancers’ Quadrille, and which {: seems to be the acme of fashion to make as long and comprehensive as possible. I might have re- | peated the Lord’s Prayer at least twice while Miss | B ’s head and body described the required are, but of course I didn’t. On the contrary, I imme- diately beut my body so as to form an acute angle with my legs, and in this shape remained standing much to my discomfort, and I fear, tothe disarrange- ment of my digestion, until, after the lapse of sever- al minutes, during which the General stood gravely by, Miss B asked, with an engaging air, wheth- er I had yet made any calls in Washington. I told her I had only just arrived, and that, with her per- mission, my first call would be upon the belle of Tennessee. She said if I meant her she should be delighted. I said I had lately been in company with a gentleman, an admirer of hers I believed, from whom I reckoned I had taken a complaint. Ah, what was that? Admiration of the belle aforesaid, I answered, gallantly. Oh, you are a flatterer, she cried, with a desperate attempt t: blush. But who was the gentleman? she ought of course to know that. I said I didn’t know as she ought to learn from me ; the gentleman should sing his own serenades under the windows of his beauty. She thought the remark poetical, but not obliging. I told her I desired particularly to be considered obliging by the ladies, and there- upon added that the gentleman in question was the Baron Grubb, ministerfrom Deutchland. ‘Oh, the dear Baron, how she should scold him for talk- ing about her!” Miss B cried, with an affecta- tion of great severity. Then she asked if I didn't think Grubb was a very pretty name. I told her I did, very; but I thought Baron was prettier, and Lord better than either. She said she saw that I was a, wicked wit, and she expected the ladies would have to be dreadfully cut up this season, because they liked clever people with titles. I said a title was like the lamp Diogenes carried about Athens at mid-day to find an honest man with : it was almost impossible to discover a clev- er person in Washington except one had a title to guide the search. Miss B—— cried, Oh!” ina very suspicious manner. She began to think my wit decidedly plebeian, and accordingly raised her eye-glass in order to put a little more distance be- tween us. The General interposed by saying that I was the great-grandson of an Earl, and the eye- class was suddenly dropped again. (The General knew my family history—my great-grandfather’s name was Earle.) Miss 1—— gave a turn to the conversation by saying there was to be a ‘* hop” in the hote! that night week, and that as I was so useful to the ladies last season, she hoped I might be relied on to aid them™in the same manner the ensuing one. I replied that she might reckon on my most devoted attention to her wishes; that it was my dearest aspiration to make myself accept- able to her in any and all possible ways. This was so near the truth that I suspect my manne was more than usually earnest, for Miss L—— blushed slightly, though without withdrawing her eyes, or betraying any girlish embarrassment. She knew very well I was in love with her. She knew, too, that I wasn’t “eligible.” So, with the kindest intentions in the world, she endeavored to be my very good friend, at the same time that HARPER'S WEEKLY. R05 he k ws I l them bot essed to gx i la a sald ed re at break No, I had eft t ta Aunt Tabi ‘ » " hat astonishr The dear ° 1 ' uzp > ] j } : ‘ set four agree ay a: A, * he . ; ‘ } hut % ahaa? i u ° ‘ F ‘ , ' : . . l Wil f | t the \ ’ ' , : t f f tate break faat . ’ . , and a4 ful ‘ tive f +) 9 ion, al eet , n behalf of ; ; I ered th lea lv f that I 1 eA at it, till t ! ] ht I was! hing at her vy excellent m I : fen S I ha ex] M t I ex claimed, “I beg you tl 8 of setting up the peopl representative s an e3 ample in the } tice of any of the virtus l " If you want to teach the most « essful meth { vetir t he easiest Wavy to steal. you'll 1 thes ipital good instructor but industry i : long been out of fashion here THE GENERAL POST-OFFIC! Did + | id you ever hear about the Forty Thieves, aunt | She said she had read about them in the “ Arabian she constantly but delicately and considerate] ing daughter; but as I don't speak French, I was Nights I said | didn't mean them, but the Forty kept throwing cold water on my passion But it immovable. The result was that he went his way Thieves who were 1 bers of the last Congress wouldn t do. Her lx havior Was so sensi ] un- | and I mine I don't pretend to say that mine wa She exclaimed, with a good deal of astonishment, like that of young ladies in general, in den g | the best. that she didn’t know that the people elected thieves herself the glory of a conquest merely to save the It was eleven when the General and I got through | to Congre it was a crying shame if they did. feelings of an admirer, that my passion only flamed | breakfast—time for the General to go to the House I replied that the propensity for stealing wa up the higher hopelessly Well, I am not writing ind assume his place among the representattves of probabl; whoate when they were elected, but a chapter of confessitns. Besides, if you think I | the nation How do you do, Baron?” said I that it very quickly became devel 1 after they um a lover of the hypochondriacal description like mecting that distinguished plenipo upon the stair got here Ashamed of being compelled to say Werter, or of the sentimental sort like Lamartine, Che Baron imparted to me, in a confidential man- such trite things, I added that it was time for us it is not my image you have got on your retina, ner, the fact that he was very well, adding, how to go down to the Capitol, if we were going; and but another man’s. Not that man, but another | ever, still more confidentially, “ JcA bin schlifrig | though my aunt said Ul t care to see man’s. quite a little, because I have yesterday received uch doing ue I nevertheless Nevertheless I recollect quite distir dispatches from my Government, which I have sit gave us the pleasur iv¥—a circum- one of Senator Douglas's grand ‘‘ crushes ip all night, nearly, to examine; therefore, Ihave | stance that comp« son, | was commi ned to get a glass « not ich sleep.” I replied, carelessly, that I un- Virginia it I wae going to from the suppe m: how I strugek lers it heir-apparent of his Serene and Exalt- take her to call on t! I asked her, the frantic and rry crowd, holding ed Highness was about to make proposals for Miss by way of a Yank her she had any the youth in Lor low'’s poem did his banner; La the President's niece; I presumed, therefor lea what | be the nature of the interview ? how, amidst a hot fire of Champagne corks, and that his dispatches related to that ject T he She said « siin't I 1 that she would be in the general ruin of the gossamer outworks, con- | Baron very cagerly and ear ly assured me that | troduced to Mr. Buchanan, and that he would ask sisting of tulle, tarlatan, etc., erected for the pro- such w not the fact, for w! " ran I ex- her vitl ' r of p interest, the following tection of the ladies, I bore (through snow and pressed luc nse of obligation q t Have you ited the Smithsonian In ice) my welcome trophy to the thirsty lips of Miss Then I passed on, in order to report myself as titute, M If she 1 No, he would advise L—, My reward was somethi: that’s laid be in readiness to be showing my au \Tab- her. cravely. to a nd see it: and would then re away in the snuff-box of memory, like a T ka itha 1 my pretty cousin Virginia, from Swam lay ‘ j nd ‘ lence How did bean in my uncl »x of Ma boy Tt at | ] 1 York State, the | of the capital I I 0 what } vs to every Senator Seward’s, wasn't it I who drew on her | haven't! erto referre#to these } have I ] ! ‘ nd the ll v ‘a overshoes with trembling han und =palpitating W erni sunt Tabitha littl e said t ht furins it Mr. Bachanan heart ? Oh! Paul Polkafoot, wh th are e t 1 t sie sag h est l t ] inti ' i t t l eaid it was you not “eligible?” What is tl ise in bei " lad ‘ ! hardly ever been out of sight of her no we er he | vs remal 1 bachelor ! fellow unless you are a —— of a fellow? e village before, and never wants to be ag told her we would the Smit! on firet, and I spent the evening with the General, spite of | if r owr testations are to be bel ed It wa thus depr of half his r la ch; per Alamode’s entreaties that I would go and make a | solely for Virginia's benefit that s! nsented ¢ that would force him to say ething else, round of calls. We ought at once, he said, to call lea er knitting-work and come on here to 1 tld ted Vir thoueht we had better on the members of the Cabinet, in ord that w ke no, not to mingle in, but to be among, for not do { its t embarrass Mr. Buchanan, might get invitations to their “‘ reception I ason, t ayeties of W tor And Vi | thes should probably be embarrassed her- told him New Year's would be time enoug' for ri ? Well, she is a ¥ prett l, under f, which would be t to make the interview very that. because then we would go the whole ro | eightes i my aunt Tabitha’s daughter A listressing to bot! I said, recklessly. that I didn't take a drink, leave our cards, and thus be en | somewhat ophisticated beauty, to be ire. but are; for which bitter speech my pretty cousin re réigle with a comparatively small outlay of trou- quick-witted, naturally graceful, and, as I have proved me severely ble. Then he wanted particularly to go to Sena- | before said, very pretty—besides having about het I told my aunt it was a mile and a half at least tor Slidell’s. I knew that was solely to enabl | var u ‘taking ways,”’ which renders her com- own to the Capit und asked her if we hadn't him to air his French with madame and her charm- | pany quite as agreeable to her male cousin as any better take an omnibus? She said a mile and « LADIES’ GALLERY IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES

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R06 HARPER'S WEEKLY. elf was no sort of 2 walk; besides, she wanted to | alf 0 : | see the shops along Pennsylvania Avecue. I be- ve she did see them all, as well as ull they .on- | tained: but at last her attention was riveted by a | eur view of the Capitol. She thought that was « very big and grand house, and she supposed the members of it must be big and grand too. I said it would @p; bat that it occupied a very lisrespectful positiona—with its rear turned to- ward the city and the President's, and its front southward, like a horse harnessed at the tail-cnd of a cart. We went round, in order to enter in front. My aunt wanted to know what that naked man alongside of the steps was going to do with that great ball he had in his hands; and what the Indian girl by his side was at? I told her it was a statue of Columbus, and I had beard say that he was in the act of challenging the statue of Washington, at the other end of the square, to play a came of ball with him; but I thought it was in- tended to represent Columbus holding a ball of urn, and about to teach the Indian girl how to t. My aunt said that was very good of him; but added, a little timidly, that he and the girl oth would look better if they had more clothes on. While my sunt was looking at and admiring the tures in the Rotunda, Miss B—— came sailing , aecompanied by the Baron. She honored aunt Tabiths and Virginia with a haughty stare through ye-giass, but affected not to see me at all. My pretty modest little cousin was quite cut up by that splendid person's supercilious air—I think somebody must have blown on the General's story about my being the great-grandson of an earl ; and her inspection of my companions no doubt satisfied | her that I was altogether too mach of a plebeian to be recognized thus publicly by the grand-daughter of a Tennessee judge. However, I caught the eye of an old acquaintance just then, who drew me a little one side, in a confidential way, and, after a few commonpiaces, told me that he was a candi- date for the vacant mission to Siam, and wanted me to help him by getting General F to write him a letter of recommendation. I asked if he had ever met the General? He said he had not; but he thought that would make no difference, as I could write the letter and get the General to copy and sign it. I told him [ would «peak to him about it. Just then one of the members from New York, . emerged from a door on the Hon. J—a C-— other side, and passed rapidly across the Rotunda, casting furtive giances about him. He evidently caught a sight of the applicant for the Siam mis- sion, and, fearful of being button-holed by him, pulled his hat down over bis eves and made splen- did time for the door leading te the Hall of the Representatives. But the candidate saw him, beaded hia off, and pounced triumphantly down on him. ‘The honorable gentleman made a des perate effort to pasq with just a nod, but the candi- date seized him by the shoulder and held him fast while he poured ont the history of his claims to office, and solicited the impatient Representative's influence in getting him the mission. ‘* These office-seekers are worse than the plagues of Egypt!" said Mr, C— to me, the next day, with an energetic imprecation that sounded vastly like an oath ** I'd as lief be bored to death by Guinea-worms as to be beset as I am by them. Now that fehlow who wants to go to Siam, I don't know him at all, or just barely to speak, and yet he came tome yeuterday, and what do you think he wanted me todo? Why, in the first place, he asked me to write a letter for him, take it around, and get it signed by all my friends in the House and Senate, and then to go with him and urge his case person- ally on the President and Cabinet! I told him I had something else to occupy my time. I wish he and his whole tribe might be sent to Siam or—the devil!” The Rotunda is ‘the rendezvous of these borers and of the lobby; and the members tell me it is almost impossible for them to pass through there without being waylaid by some of them. This fact explains why I see members and senators come sneaking into the Capitol by unexpected side passages, darting furtive glances around them as they emerge from the cover of a pillar, seeking cover again as quickly as possible, and at last bolting into their respective chambers as if they were afraid a constable was at their heels. Inmy aforetime simplicity I imagined that these genitle- men avoided observation because they were op- pressed with a lingering sense of shame for some of their actions; but I perceive now that I gave them too much credit. Then, when I saw a mem- ber sneaking about in this way, I always, in con- sideration of his feelings, pretended not to see him; bat now I understand it | have no sympathy with them. I think they ought to get every body an office who asks them for one. I think it is the duty of a Representative to provide an office for every one of his constituents—at least for all those who voted for him, or spent their money to elect him, Aunt Tabitha was delighted with the magnifi- cence of the halls, tiled floors, and stairways of grained marble, te be seen in the new part of the Capitol. I ventured to introduce her into one of the committee rooms. The richness of the furni- ture, and the freseo adornments of the walls struck her as being something very gorgeous. Virginia hesitated about going in, because there sat the clerk, in a stuffed easy chair, with his feet on a tal-le, lazily smoking a cheroot, and it seemed like going into a gentleman's private apartment. Aunt rabitha wanted to know, as soon as we went out, if th rentlema he chairman of the com- | answered that | gnessed he was. It is sib} to deseribe the effect produced upon the dear old lady by the blazing splendor of the new Representative hall, ; The gilt, the glitter, the painting, carving, the wonderful ceiling, and all that, quite overcame her. She looked down upon the members, lounging in their red. morocco- covered « vith a cies of awe, **Do you iver of Congress, Paul ?” tick whisper, that all young Americaus e2 think vou'll ever be " she asked, in a rever I answered pected to be members | | | | | | | of Congress some day or other, and I supposed that | I might reasonably entertain the same idea. My aunt looked as if she thought I might, and then her attention was drawn away by the rising of a member to address the House. The member hap- pened to be the Hori. L M. K——, of South Carolina, who frowned, tossed his head, strode back and forth in the aisle, gesticulated, and spoke in such an impressive style that the old lady was quite rapt. ‘That's real eloquence,” she whispered to me, as the honorable gentleman sat down, stroking his beard and glancing up at the galleries to observe the effect he had prodaced. It seems he caught somebody's eye up there, for he smiled sweetly, bounded from his seat, disap- peared for an instant, appeared in the gal- lery, and dropped down alongside of the smiling and gratified Miss B——. A smart flirtation sprung up at once, and I could see that the Baron looked unhappy. Soon quite a bevy of members had col- lected around the cha oung lady in the gallery. Another batch left the hall, in a body, to go over to the corner and get a drink (as I learned on inquiring at the bar afterward). A member from New England, who had evidently been up late the night before, stretched himself out on a sofa and went tosleep. A member from the South lighted a cigar and very composedly puffed away on itin a corner. Some put their feet up on their morocco-covered desks. Some stood around and talked. Some wrote and franked letters clerk read away on some bill or other, which no- body listened to; the reporters scribbled away, and the member from New England, asleep on the sofa, at last actually snored. He had just been re-elect- ed for another two years, and therefore didn’t care whether school kept or not. I didn'teither. Be- cause, in fact, as the old lady very soon became so much absorbed in the proceedings that any further present attention to her was needless, I found it quite agreeable to devote myself assiduously to my pretty cousin. By-and-by, however, Fitz Alamode came and sat down by us. I think Fitz is a little inclined to be sweet on Virginia. In fact, he did us all the honor of gallanting her back to the ho- tel, leaving me to the sole charge of my aunt. Ten o'clock, p.m.—The member from the Swam- poodle district has just dropped into my room, and says that young Alamode has been asking him about what fortune Miss Virginia is likely to have. I was delighted to hear that he had the sense to tell Fitz a few thousand dollars was all, and that he had said nothing aboug the rich old re!ative who has put down her name in his will for a very large cargo of the desirable spoons. I shall take care that the confounded little fortune-hunter don’t hear of that. A few minutes later I had the honor of a call from the correspondent of the New York Daily Thundergust. He told me that it was positively determined to remove Collector Schell, and that the vacant place was going to be conferred, at the instance of Hon. D, E. Sickles, upon the Benicia Joy. He added, by way of confirmation, that Mr. Buchanan had that very day been seen to take the Benicia Boy into a clothes-press, where a long and entirely private consultation had been held, the particulars of which he had obtained in detail for the Thundergust exclusively, and sent on by telegraph to that journal. To-morrow my aunt is going again up to the House, while Miss Virginia and myself are going to call on the President. LITERARY. Serr-mape Mex, by Chas. C. B. Seymour, published by Harper & Brothers, is a book which deserves wide circulation. It is a collection of well-selected and admirably-digested biographical sketches of men who, by dint of industrious and virtuous perseverance, have attained wealth, emi- nence, or usefalness; and to such men the minds of the young can never be too frequently directed. For a present to a young man we know nothing better than such a volume—at once a source of in- terest and a gallery of noble exemplars. Boys will study its pages with intensest admiration ; for real life presents scenes that romance does not, in which the reader is able to appreciate the moral because he knows that the story is truth, and from which he derives a lesson that no tale of fancy can equal, To be such a man, to achieve such a suc- cess, to conquer such an enemy, to crush such a temptation—these are the objects of ambition which the volume offers, and which the reader seizes on and adopts as his own. The author of ‘‘ Peter Schlemihl in America,” Mr. George Wood, has written another curious book, and Derby & Jackson have published it. The title, Furcre Lire; or, Scenes rs ANoTHER Wor », sufficiently explains to those who remem- ber Peter what they may expect in this work, which does not equal its predecessor in any respect, but nevertheless possesses the interest of a very odd book, Peter Schlemibl—whether with or without his shadow does not appear, but with one Mrs. Jay, a New York lady—having passed through dea visits other worlds inhabited by various orders of beings, among whom angels and the redeemed souls of the former denizens of this sphere seem to be wandering ; and with these various spirits Peter and his friend hoid converse, not on fixed fate, free- will, foreknowledge, or any other subjects of that lofty and spiritual character, but mostly on crino- line and the opera, and other topics that may be supposed to interest the earthly readers of the story. Some truth is taught, some Sharp things are well said, and some follies satirized; but, on the whole, we do not think that Mr. Wood’s good hits repay us for the very commonplace fotions we get from his book of the future life, and the inev- itable conclusion at which we arrive that some i members of higher circles in the ‘‘ future life’ are | very stupitt people, who had learned very little in this world and have made no advance in the other. Derby & Jackson also publish a novel, Wire rT WAS Mounine, by Virginia FP. Townsend, which The | we have not been able to read except in passages here and there, from which we have marked the book as written in a simple and delicate style that promises well for the whole. Mrs. Mary J. Holmes has written some very popular stories, and C. M. Saxton now publishes two of them in one volame—Dora Deane and Maccoir MiLier. Dr. Macdoff’s Story or Beritenes, written for the young in the Doctor’s admirable style, and illustrated profusely, is a fine book for the small folks about Christmas time. Carter & Brothers publish it. Matrurw Caracy is an American novel, pub- lished by Mason Brothers, the interest of the story turning on the death of a city merchant, who, be- coming insolvent, insures his life largely and com- mits suicide by smoking morphine in a cigar. One of his clerks, whose history tas been the burden of the previous portions of the story, is tried for the murder, and acquitted with the aid of the in- surance companies and a providential witness. The book is not above the average of late novels. R. M. Dewitt publishes Tue Texaxr Horse, a novel, by A. J. H. Duganne, to which more than usual attention is invited by the array of distin- guished names appended to commendatory letters. The author has made a story out of the abundant material which su furnish ; and one can hardly doubt, while reading, that the descriptive portions are drawn from reality, | and terrible reality. The plot does not commend | itself to ordinary notions of the probable. The various inhabitants of the barrack-houses are led through the mazes of a romantic story, and turn out to be, most of them, children of wealthy par- ents, or in some way connected with wealthy peo- ple, and in the end are pretty mach all made com- fortable by the aceidents of life more than by the results of industry. All this, however, is the au- thor’s license as a novelist, and designed to bring before the world, in a readable form, his sketches cf real life in the haunts of poverty, and in this view the book is calculated to do good. he work is further commendable in the fact that it teaches distinctly and clearly the influence of the Christian religion in reforming vice and reclaiming the des- titute. Mr. Dugapne has had means of informa- tion on the subject of tenant houses in New York which give to his relations the value of careful ov- servation, and make them worthy the serious at- tention of all who desire to relieve the destitute and abandoned. A young English lord, Lord Dufferin, in 1856, went in his yacht, The / ‘oan, to northern latitudes, and touched at Iceland, where he had the jolliest of times for some weeks, visiting the Geysers, and getting gloriously drank with the Icelanders, and making after-dinner speeches of the funniest kind in French, English, and, above all, in the funniest Latin. Prince Napoleon came along with his fleet, and took The Foam in tow behind La Reme Mor- tense steamer, and they pushed off for Jan Mayen, a lonesome island within the Arctic circle. But the Prince got out of coal, and shock off the yacht to pursue her own voyage by wind; and she did reach that desolate shore, and return thence to Norway, and at length sailed northward until this little craft, with but two inches of thin plank to resist the ice, actually reached a latitude within one hundred miles as far north as any expedition has hitherto attained. Lord Dufferin wrote letters to his mother, and told her of all his fun, fact, and fancy as he went on this strange pleasure-trip in a yacht; and these letters form the volume of Let- Ters rrom Hicu Latirepes, which Ticknor & Fields have now republished, and of which we have once before casually spoken. If we do not mistake, we related then the story of the cock who became crazy when the sun did not set any more, and actually drowned himself in a fit of nervous excitement. The book is a very careless and reck- less lot of stuff, which will not increase the young lord's literary reputation, but will amuse readers more than any thing of the sort that has recently appeared. His Latin speech at the dinner is the gem of the story, and worth the price of the volume. DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE. POLITICAL. CONGRESS. Concress met on 6th inst., and proceeded to business, In the Senate, Senator Mason gave totice that he would, on Tuesday, call up the case of the schooner Amistad ; permission granted by 2410 19. The President's Message was received and read. Comments thereon were made by Senators Bigler and Hale.——In the House, seats were drawn for, and several notices of bills aud resolu- tions were given. The Message was then received and On Tth, in the Senate, Senator Wilson bill to appropriate 1,000,000 acres of publ ve notice of a ing the President to take steps for the abrogation of the cl Bulwer Treaty was referred to the Committee of Whole; a motion to lay on the table having been negatived by 93 to 90. Mr. Billinghurst moved to take the Pacific Railroad out of the hands of the Select Com- mittee appointed on the subject; lost’ Mr. Bernhisel offered a resolution to refund to Utah the expenses in- curred in suppressing Indian hostilities in 1853, and to construct a wagon-road from Bridger’s Pass to Salt Lake City. Mr. Stevens offered a resolution for a wagon-road through Waslington Territory. On Yth, in the Senate, Senator Iverson gave notice of a motion to abolish the franking privilege, and to sub- stitute a commutation in money. Several memorials were presented, and the standing Committees were ap- pointed.——In the House, the standing Committees were pointed. Mr. Harris gave notice of bills to render erritorial Governors and Judges clective, to admit sug- ar and salt free of duty, and to amend the naturalization laws. ‘The case of Judge Watrous was then taken up, and discussed by Messrs. Ready, Houston, Craige, Rea- gan, Cochrane, Chapman, and Tappan. On 10th, in the Senate, considerable routine business was transacted.——In the House, Mr, Boyce moved to adwit Lieutenant Mowry as Delegate from Arizona; ob- jected to. The case of Judge Watrous was then further discuseed by Messrs. Billinghurst, Ready, and Davis. On Saturday, the Senate not being in session, the Howse was occupied ail day with the Watrous impeach- ment. h places as the Old Brewery | | good grounds for carrying false colors. _ [Decemper 18, 1858. THE PRESIDENT's MESSAGE. The President's Message was sent inte Congress on December 8. It is longer even than such documents usually are. We ean of course only find space for « few very brief extracts. After alinding to the settlement of the Kansas and Utah questions, aod throwing out some suggestions as to the organization of future Territories, the President passes to our foreign relations. THE RIGHT OF SEARCH QUESTION. “Tam ified to inform you that the long pending con- troversy between the two governments, in relation to the question of visitation and search, has been amicably ad- justed. The claim on the part of Great Britain, forcibly to visit American vessels on the high seas in the time of peace, could not be sustained under the law of nations and it had been ‘overruled by her own most eminent ju- rists. This question was recently brought to an issue by the repeated acts of British cruisers in boarding and searching our merchant vessels in the Gulf of Mexico and the adjacent seas. * * * Remonstrances wereaddressed to the British government against these violations of our rights of sovereignty. The British government prompt- ly avowed its recoguition of the principles of interna- tional law upon this subject, 2s laid down by the govern- ment of the United States, in the note of the Secretary of State to the British Minister at Washington, of April 10, 1555, which secure the versels of the United States upon the high seas from visitation or search in time of peate, under any circumstances whatever. The cinim hes been abandoned in a manner refiecting honor on the Hritish government, and evincing regard for the law of nations, and can not fail & ngthen the amicable rela- tions between the two countries “The British government at the same time proposed to the United States that some mode should be adopted. b magual arrangement between the two cou , of a char- acter which may be found effective without being offens- ive, for verifying the nationality of vessels suspected on They have also invited the Uuited States to take the initiative, and pro- pose measures for this purpose. While declining ‘ sume SO grave a responsibility, the Secretary of State has v | informed the British government that we are ready to re- ceive any proposals which they may feel disposed te offer having this object in view, and to ec: x-ider them in an amicable spirit. A strong opinion is, however, expressed that the occasionel abuse of the flag of any nation is an with the freedom of the seas. This govern: } received no communication specifying the manner ia which the British government would propose to carry out their suggestion; and I am inclined to believe that no plan which cap be devised will be free from grave embarrassmenta. Still, I shall form no decided opinion on the subject until I shall have carefully and in the best spirit examined any proposals which they may think proper to make.” THE CASE OF MEXICO. In relation to Mexico, the President says: “The ism- position of the contribution upon foreigners is consider- ed an unjust and oppressive measure. Besides, internal factions in other parts of the republic were at the same time levying similar exactions upon the property of our citizens, and interrupting their commerce. There had been an entire failure on the part of our Minister to se- cure redress for the wrongs which our citizens had en- dured, notwithstanding his persevering efforta. And from the temper manife-ted by the Mexican government he had repeatedly assured us that no favorable change could be expected until the United States should ‘ give striking evidence of their will and power to protect their citizens,’ and that ‘ severe chastening is the only earthly remedy for our grievances." “ Abundant cause now undoubtedly exists for a resort to hostilities against the government still holding pos- session of the capital. Should they snceced in subduing the Constitutional forces, all reasonable hope will then have expired of a peaceful settlement of our diffieulties. **On the other hand, should the Constitutional party prevail, and their authority be established over the re- public, there is reason to hope that they will be animat- ed by a less unfriendly spirit, and may grant that redress to American citizens which justice requires, so far as they may possess the means. But for th's expectation, I should at once have recommended to Congress to grant the necessary power to the President to take possession of a sufficient portion of the remote and unsettled territo- ry of Mexico, to be held in pledge until our injuries shall be redressed and our just demands be satisfied. We have already exhausted every milder means of obtaining justice. In such a case this remedy of reprisals is recog- nized by the law of nations, not only as just in itself, but as a means of preventing actual war. THE PROTECTORATE OVER CHIHUAHUA AND 580- NORA. “ But there is another view of our relations with Mex- ico, arising from the unhappy condition of affairs along our southwestern frontier, which demands immediate ac- tion. In that remote region, where there are but few white inhabitants, large bands of hostile and predatory Indians roam promiscuously over the Mexican States of Chihuahua and Sonora and our adjoining Territories. The local governments of these States are perfectly help- less, and are kept in a state of constant alarm by the In- dians. They have not the power, if they possessed the will, even to restrain lawless Mexicans from passing the border and committing depredations on our remote sct- tlers. A state of anarchy and violence prevails through- out that distant frontier. The laws are a dead letter, and life and property are wholly insecure. For this ree- son the settlement of Arizona is arrested, while it is of great importance that a chain of inhabitants should ex- tend all along its southern border, sufficient for their own protection and that of the United States mail pass- ing to and from California. Well-founded apprehensions are now entertained, that the Indians, and wandering Mexicans, equally lawless, may break up the important Stage and postal communication recently established be- tween our Atlantic and Pacific possessions. This passes very near to the Mexiean boundary, throughout the whole length of Arizona. I can imagine no possible remedy for these evils, and no mode of restoring law and order on that remote and unsettled frontier, but for the Gov- ernment of the United States to assume a temporary protectorate over the northern portions of Chihuahua and Sonora, and to establish military posts within the same; and this I earnestly recommend to Congress. This protection may be withdrawn as soon as local gov- he of tatoress oir duties to tha Uathed Statex capable ing their duties to : a States. restraining the lawless and preserving peace along the THE CUBA QUESTION. “Tt has been made Known to the world by my prece- occasions, instantly disappear. We would acquired since the origin of the government has ay fair from France, Spain, and Mexico, or by the free and voluntary act of the independent State of ‘Texas in blending her destinies with our own. This course we uball ever pursue, unless circumstances should occur, which we do not new anticipate, rendering a de- ure from it clearly Jnstifiable, under the imperative and overruling law of self-preservation. “The island of Cuba, from its geographical position, commands the month of the Mississippi, and the immense and annually increasing trade, foreign and coastwise, from the valicy of that noble river, now embracing half the sovereign States of the Union, With that island under the dominion of a distant foreign Power, this trade, of vital importance to these States, is exposed to the danger of being destroyed in time of war, and it has hitherto been subjected to perpetual injury and annoy- ance fin time of peace. Our relations with Spain, which onght to be of the most friendly character, must always be placed in jeopardy while the éxisting colonial goveru- ment over the island shall remain in its present con- dition. ** While the possession of the island would be of vast

Page 7

Decemper 18, 1858. ]

comparatively, unimporta uation of the parties when the great Napoleon transferred Louisiana to the United States. Jealous, as he ever was, of the national honor and interests of France, no person throughout the world has imputed blame to him for ac- cepting a pecuniary equivalent for this cession. “ The publicity which has been given to our former ne- gotiations upon this subject, and the large appropriation which may be required to effect the purpose, render it expejient, before making another attempt to renew the negotiation, that I should lay the whole subject before Congress. This is especially necessary, as it may be- come indispensable to success that I should be intrusted with the means of making an advance to the Spanish government immediately after the signing of the treaty, without awaiting the ratification of it by the Senate. | am encouraged to make this suggestion by the example of Mr. Jefferson previous to the purchase of Louisiana from France, and by that of Mr. Polk in view of the ac- quisition of territory from Mexico. I refer the whole subject to Congress, and commend it to their careful con- sideration."

THE PUBLIC DEBT. “The public debt on the Ist of July, 1855—the com- mencement of the present fiscal year—was $25,155,977 65 “ Daring the first quarter of the present year the sum of $10,000,000 has been negotiated of the loan authorized by the act of 14th of Jane, 1853—making the present outstanding public debt, exclusive of Treasury $35,155,977 There was, on the Ist of July, 1558, of Treasury notes issued by authority of the aci of Decem- ber 23, 1857, unredeemed, the sum of $19,754,500—mak ing the amount of actual indebtedness, at that date, $54.910,7T7 66. To this will be added $10,000.000 du: ing the present fiscal year, this being the remaining half of the loan of $20,000,000 not yet negotiated. “The rapid increase of the public debt, and the neces sity which exists for a modification of the tariff, to meet even the ordinary expenses of the government, ought t admonish us all, in our respective spheres of duty, to the practice of rigid economy. The objects of expenditure should be limited in number, as far as this may be prac ticable, and the appropriations necessary to carry them into effect ought to be disbursed under the strictest ac countability Enlightened economy does not consist in ) appropriate money for constitutional pur- poses essential to the defense, progress, and prosperity of the republic, but in taking care that none of this money shall be wasted by mismanagement in its application to the objects designated by law.”

A REVENUE TARIFF. ‘It is our true policy to increase our revenue 60 as to equal our expenditures. It would be ruinous te continue to borrow. Besides, it may be proper to observe that the incidental protection thus afforded by a revenue tariff would, at the present moment, to some extent increase the confidence of the manufacturing interests, and give a fresh impulse to our reviving business. To this, surely, no person will object. “In regard to the mode of assessing and collecting d ties under a strictly revenue tariff, I have long and often expressed the opinio » that sound policy require this should be done by specific duties, in cases to whic! these can be properly applied. They are well adapted t commodities which are usually sold by weight or meas ure, and which, from their nature, are of equal or of nea ly equal value. Such, for example, are the articles of iron of different classes, raw sugar, and foreign wines and spirits. “In my deliberate judgment, specific duties are t best, if not the only means of securing the revenue agai false and fraudulent invoices, and such has been the pra tice adopted for this purpose hy other commercial n : Besides, specific duties would afford to the American manufacturer the incidental advantages to which he fairly entitled under a revenue tariff The present 5) tem isa sliding scale to his disadvantage. Under it, prices are high and business prosperous, the duties ri in amount when he least requires their aid. On the trary, when prices fall, and he is struggling against ad versity, the duties are diminished in the same proporti greatly to his injury.” REPORT OF THE SECRETARY OF WAR The authorized strength of the army, as post 18,165, but the actual strength, on July 1, was 17,4°8 These troops compose the whole numerical force of army, distributed through the States and Territorie the entire Confederacy, manning all the fortific cupied by the troops, holding all posts now garrisons 1 ntertained

s

ve

defending all our extended frontiers, and protecting, as far as possible, the different routes extending across | continent, from the Mississippi Valley to our possessions on the Pacific. In speaking of the war with the Indians on the Pacific, the Secretary says that a permanent peace has been er tablished by treaties entered into with them, and thé army has been already distributed to’ points where the presence of a force was greatly needed The Secretary says he has attempted, as far as possible to meet the just wishes of Congress in reducing the ex penses, and the estimates of the next fiscal year are less than the appropriations for the last by the sum of | $9,160,488. They are less than the estimates laid before Congress at the last session by the sum of $2 736,408 They amount, in the aggregate, to $15,010,090; and he entertains a strong hope that the expenditure may be still further reduced in the course of another year. REPORT OF THE NAVY DEPARTMENT. For the support of the navy and marine corps, and al other objects under the control of the Navy Department for the fiscal year ending the 30th of June, 1858, the es timates were $13,808,212; expenditures, $13,870,684; there having been some cur tailment of expense by reason of a falling off in the rev enue. For the fiscal year ending June 30, 1859, the es timates were $14,616,298; appropriations, $14,508

these having been largely retrenched in consequence of a diminution of the revenue, and again increased by ap- propriating $1,200,000 fur eight light draft war-steamers, which were not embraced in the estimates. For the fis- cal year ending the 50th June, 1860, the estimates afe $18,500,370, including #674,000 for completing the eigh light draft steamers, authorized at the last session of Congress, and not including the usual compensation of $955, $50 for steamship and mail service. POST-OFFICE REPORT. The Posimaster-General says that the expenses of the Department, over and above its resources, have reg- ulafly increased ever since the reduction of postages. obviously erroneous to suppose that the charge upon the Treasury is to progress in a ratio proportionate to what it has been for the last few It would, however, be years. Our postal system is now extended over the whol country, from one ocean to the other. The Postmaster-G

importance to the United States, its value to Spain is, | Toutes is estimated at 260,603 miles ; ich was the relative sit- appropriations, $14,240,247 ; neral proposes, in lieu of the frank- ing privilege now allowed by law to members of Con- gress, that the Secretary of the Senate and the Clerk of the House of Representatives, or such other officer as may be designated for the purpose, furnish the members with postage stamps to be used on all letters, public doo-

HARPER'S

total amount of

and $1,173.372 to the cost current year are $10,615,947. The to The tatal expenditures of

amounted to $12 470.

REPORT OF THE LAND-OFFIC! The report of the Land-office covers five During that period there were 15,209,87

quarters acres of pub- had never before been offered at public sale During the same period there were sold for cash 4.804.919 4-100, from which was realized $2,534,192 20, located with Military Land Warrants, $6,953,110 00, and | reported Swamp Land Grants of 1.471.565 5.000 acres | making an aggregate of cash sales, land warrant Joca- |

tions, and swamp selections of $12,155 504 54 DEPARTURE OF THE FILIBUSTERS FROM Telegraphic messages from Mo

MOBILE.

the Department in the fiscal year ending June 30, 1558 60 avenging God

WEEKLY. ci wilty 7 ‘ The fa f Case. bereaved | nsportat 37 7 a7 ; fw transportation, 75,765,461 miles, and cost $7,795,418 and betraved a ih a the . Mr Compared with the service reported Ju 30, 1857 I g in a lor t cha f f here is an addition of 18,002 miles to the ler fr tives A w from off t ‘

story of wily wandering { tal of a never-ceasing remors litary deaths in far-away isla:

The estimated receipts and | waters of the Indian Ocean Both v : expenditures in u 59: expenditures, $14,776,520; means, | ed passion are asleep—the mother in the groves of Cey $11,094,393 ; deficiency, $3,682,127 lon, the little child in the coral forests of ara Phe betrayer still wanders the earth, the heavy hand of a him, and sends to | his sorrow PERSONAL. upon abandoned +) me this message « lic lands surveyed, which, with former surveys, made a | quantity of 61,951,046 acres of the public lands surveyed A letter from Senator Summer, dated Paris, Nov. 18, | and ready for market on the 30th September, 1S58,which | ™*Y* / ‘To-morrow morning there will be a consultation of | phy sicians O8 ny case, to ascertain whe re l am now, at what stage I bave arrived, and what remains to be done I regret that I can not announce the result of this confer ence by the @eamer that takes this letter. will be aga ies. At I fear that it inst my return this winter te my public du- | all events, I shall not return before Januar + So iy summer, down to the elose of August most painful and harassing. My sufferings were cated There b

t seemed to be hardly an ache

/ schooner Susan, Captain Marcy, « in natare which did not visit me, and at times } on 6th inst., with 140 passengers and well pr visioned with an intensity which was overp wering Rutnow la | but without a clearance, on pretense of being b 1 | comfortable Iwo physicians « th ion that I a coasting voyage Before reaching Mobile Point, she have ma rst perce ptible advan nk « w verhauled by an art boat from the cutter | I am ‘ At times I ha vi M*( and, and stopped 1 i fid I shall As las eve I Susan reatened tl I | the intment I f this 5 racted sry i fter « i a ny duties. I long t t Sten butt lamage was caused Liew ha al health, and r ‘ | Wh t ‘ er, remained on board the St e or fourteen hours a da | Sucst I lion. James Chesnut, Jun., elected & fi A VISIT TO BERLIN HEIGHTS. South Ca a for the short etw forty « The Cleveland Plaindcal - amy yes . tn. - and a graduate of I ‘ ting to be sh — . os - ~ bvotinian, he w Washin . led one day upon f “ss ee The Howard 7ribwune am ‘ ft Here i am at Berlin Hites amung the Fre ~ nn U. Pettit, Member of ¢ eas from the Xit Is aeveee beter tech ieiiients Uneerte Deo ten istrict of Indiana, to Miss Bre dangliter of the late | i ever sot foot in this reteh 1} Hon. Samuel Brent i | Free-Lavirs for sum time &i t ide cu a Ques as uy p by r New | kind of kritters they wa . } having in « n me girl named | j | near the Luv Cure, as they & ~d, . * from Uta Ed nir to the Breese Bi v © pe hk a = ‘ : I r my show & 1 begun f » ‘ a | ga stavin | Ss I \ k —_ e, and i must say The m fa was \. “ ee SS } i they looked halfstarved to det I wit ad be been ¢ ¥ = _— - or the men. They wore t sis vada | I Minister } } s , hats, with fadid green ribbins them, & | 7 p Aes Py , y oe kerrid t ko : in t a : ’ i 1 a perfekly ortul | le | a i} y J {t 1e dor Hur gou i - . . & 1 wsis was shameful : Ar, 5 | — : . t yes S O tis Sezi s1 — * . . s & € ud you atl te " rat ane i ' -- ; ry . *2 has f it at lars wood ha ee . : — iy st fust if had . o + all gent ‘ ‘ ” iy aman? Sez think ia tify low . 2 - . , “ey address Mrs. A. Ward. Bald e, injianny, } 1 8 to be spread nadie : , : sa Supper a ); Breakfa I ay r- : he i tha ow f I : a? The eksentric fe. | 287: Sad cor business ope : even- | | le then . & oon Oe e The Jot des Cartes is ¥ i ioe, "Ye ine, © you Seal i releesed myself from her iran grasy S \ ; } "3 air tT - ’ . “Dost th k FOREIGN NEWS. j | ars yea / 7 2 Sa endieivens ENGLAND ) fresidunce. My har } RECALL OF LORD NaPt Ile has cu he i | : : ow . A I Londen Morning J | yu air him—yu air my afiinerty 0 mutch - » mutch!’ and she bust out a cryin Yes,’ sez i, *i announces the recall of Lord N . : k it is darn site two mutch ‘Hast thow not yearn- of Mr. Lyons from Florence to Washingt anys ¢ i fur me? she yelled, ringing her hands like a femaile _—e ry cause of his recall is Lord Naj > lay actor.. Sex i, ‘not a-yearn.’ Bi this time a grate | “Vor of the Monroe doctrine. The London : krowd of fvee lovirs had kollectid ar & they all ' terial) confirmas the report I N kommensed fur to holler ‘shame brute enst,’ etset ee ve have ° European mission, the ‘ ery, etaettery. I wus jest as mad asa Mart mr * pena on Soe reguis ' _ : aiden ‘ lor : n, being perfectly satisfied with | i, ‘yu pack of ornery critters ¢ way f = I this retchid woom along with y My “ a Bee a ‘ mus Ward, & ime in the show bisinis i pa And the Hera i ceerni-officially) the sa eff mind my own “fairs. ime a married i | we have 8 rity for denying the a . sH look like me if i am a showman ; | dont go in fur set | a emen rm ‘ proba le removal of Lord Napier to a ; ihe laws of my country at def I aint in fav f European post is not ca sed by any Gissatist ly tearin or nothi g else illegal I think y alf | ! oes ben oe teal i a - poner : e " " | business is cussed nonsense, besides b« trajusly | —— we t im the ‘ind pomee’ when ng . wicked. I pored 4th my indignati s way untili | pe ma nen ~ in aoa paler ‘ ones of cut out of breth, when i stopt. 1 tox tent dei | . - mi; tae Seal am Ay _ y which he has alws shall leeve town this evening A Wa in the performance of his pu éuty ba Lordship to the best considera of il A CONSCIENTIOUS EDITO! ernment." Mr. Deck,” says an Ohio edit \ rican by | It is understood that I i Napi i ] iirth, and one of the most respecta 1 our com fhe successor of Lord Bloomfield, w sunity. is height is six feet—etra as an arrow | ele » | and weighs, when stripped, 2 1 He proj t LORD NAPIER'S fight Tom Hyer for $5000 a "a and giant- | The successor of |! i Na ' | like frame indicates | to be a ma f very erio tickerton Lyons, w! by the deat fl fat strength ; and, though hepe the tro bafents may | distinguished Admiral I I never meet, yet Uf a transaction so disgraceful shou ver | Lord Lyons is at pres at ¥ -cur, we predict for the Buckeye Boy the champions | ence, end entre-resids of the world.” | A YOUNG LADY IN A TRANCI ' I 1 We read in the Boston Journal: “ We hav EXTENCE ON » rA 1 \ formed of the following singt which we publich . in the hope that it may clic ‘ f h will int de Montalembert _— been 7 _ solve the mystery connected ‘ Monda he pepreation “se a << ro SS ne morning last, as the train fr Rr ! the British Parliament,” and —_ ness : iridgewater, a young lady, appa jn fine and six months impricoume : : eat € - | eighteen years old, and well dressed, w ment complained of sudden illmess, and requested t } NOW GRAND LADIES LIVE AT PARI that station. Her wish was complied wi A Paris correspondent writ« In Pa e season called for a hackman and requested to be taken to the | has fairly opened ; tut one great lady, one not leader best hotel in the place. She was taken to the bridgewa- | of fashion, is not there, and will not b& A northern ter Hotel and shown to a room, when she immediately retired. As she did not appear the next morning, the t | landlord went to her room and knocked, but received no answer. He then had the door opened, and found the young lady in bed, and, apparently, in a sound sleep. Efforts were made to awaken her, but they were unsuc- cessful, and physicians were called in. Their efforts to restore her to consclousness up to thie morning were in- effectual, and she remained in the same condition as she was found on Tuesday morning. The physicians say that there are no evidences of poison about her, and they do not know what to make of the case. She has nothing with her to indicate who she is or where she belongs. | Her luggage consisted of a valiee, in which was a note © | addressed to Abigail MacIntyre; and also a Bible, in which was a recommendation of one church te another what churches they were our informant does not reco)l- lect), She had, also, in her pocket railroad checks from Fairhaven to Middleboro’, from which it is surmised that she may bave come from Fairhaven or New Bedford. The incident creates a great deal of interest in Bridge-

¢ uments, and packets transmitted by them in the mails, te ‘ and keep an account of the stamps furnished to each SEAL OF EES TRANSCESIOON member, to be paid for out of the contingent fund of the The Buffalo Commercial Advertiser sa * Rope House. twelve or fourteen years ago Harlow Case was a respect lo avoid dissatisfaction and the practical inconven- able and esteemed citizen of Buff H d the place ience of having different rates of postage regulated by | of assistant-postmaster under D r, and was distances, it is respectfully submitted whether one uni- | for Many years intr “( tht ' Lar ities form rate of five ts for all tances would not enlarge | of th flice. ' e Daptiet ehurche the usefulness of the De rent | k of lif fatl ' t entirely prevent, such heavy | ito be a ht . ary, and best promote the interest } paths of virtue as any ‘ ! Sa se people. . The whole number of port-of . was 27,977, of which 409 of n presidential; whole 1 ber est W fiscal year, 2121; number d at ! 1391; number of post ta M I 4505 were to fill wacanci il, impassioned, and a fatal a by removals, 2 y deat t v ' ine sts sites, and 2121 on et s } y ‘ wert Ca number of offices |) the i ¢ June last there were | ites, The had abseonded Govert funds to th m tot number of contractors was 74: ‘The length of these | some $34,000, From that time forward nearly oi trace

clime has the honor of her birth, she is nearly cownect ed with royalty itself, and a marriage with the son of one of France's greatest generals has acclimated her in Paris, where she has long shone as one of the of the bright on the horizon of fashion. * Alas! her glory is eclipsed. There was atime when a great lady

brightest did arrive from the north with plenty of rubles or florins and a noble name. Madame 4 received her with charming affability, introduced her to the we rid (of course the world comme di faut), and to the best dress-maker the most fashionable jeweler, where, to secure Madame de ‘s guidance, was the sole, the great ambition of every new fragile bark laanehed in the macistrom of Parisian life, But sublunary glory is perishable. Last winter certain unpleasant rumors began to circulet« * What a beautiful dress you have here!’ says Madame A to Madame B; ‘it must have cost something.” ‘! gave six hundred francs for it.' * Wpy, that’s dreadful I have one of the same kind that col me four hundred ‘I bought mine from Madame de s dress-maker * What a pretty bonnet, Princess! Indeed! you think so? It cost me one hundred and fifty francs.’ Too dear

by half." ‘1 got it from Madame de ——'s milline “Such dialogues led to revelations; and here is the dénouement. This winter Madame de - receives from t principal northern Ladies of bh acquaintanee a score of letters, all composed i following term an at ue san Da Mapa ing to think of . hie ; e thor : ts In ) “ r exqu ww M , this littl of your lady rea Pa t ognize, and « r ; may n Paris is talk 7 ARES Count Duchatel has bought for his wi a singk * many ; wt new | rd is entist t i ‘ to rais ant “ r the ele ele ugh, and ‘ v i AN AME! 4 c ’ * felt by A | Ww t a co : | Ay _ I I BA i D ‘ at, A | ' , rut ‘ na la AN AMI As wl ; wind up wit ‘ liberty to speak only in ¥ ef immense . belle, quite a K ago arrived in br to an Austrian bar cret, of supposed ed first by a clergy American le hotel of the

As A good st r day was about | ‘ e from ft as you know is sn is t wt ;

~ a : ! } i ‘ kh \ A j 4 ’ \ eam 807

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a. \ MENDING EES a te ES RIN AE ee. = TOET. Tee ————E = 2 LBBELLEL! 7 We need no longer, it seems, travel to China or Japan for illus- trations of torture. A visit to our own penitentiaries and prisons will furnish all the horrors that the most curious appetite can desire. A year ago we published an ac- count of the poor-houses of this State. Our account was derived from the Report of a Legislative Committee, It showed, in brief, that, as a general rule, paupers and other inmates of State benevolent institutions were not properly fed ; that they were not adeqvately pro- tected against the cold; that the sexes herded together promiscnous- ly at night; and that, in many in- stances, poor wretched idiots, half- starved and ill-clad, had actually frozen to death in their cells in Stete institutions. We now present a far more fear- ful picture of the mismanagement of our public institutions for the cenfinemert and correction of crim- inals On 2d inst. a convict named More, imprisoned in the State Prison at Auburn, was showered te death by the prison officials. The circum- stances of the case are simply as fel- lows The convict, More, was a negro He is certified to have been a man of naturally pleasant temper, but violent when crossed, On 1st inst, he was said to have been in a bad humor; he was seen, or is said ‘to have been seen, to sharpen a knife, and to nratter threats against some one; on the strength of which he was, on 2d inst., seized by several keepers or deputy-keepers of the State Prison, and by them dragged toward the shower-bath for punish- nent. It seems that he stood in dire dread of the shower-bath. Like most negroes, he entertained a lively fear of cold. He knew that the wa- ter of the shower-bath would be very cold indeed ; and, after vainly ap- pealing to the feelings of his eaptors to release him, he broke away from them and fled—-be it remarked —to the ef, p where he was in the habit of At the door of the shop ict arrested him; a keeper and his assistants swiftly followed ; he was dragged by main force, and after many violent straggles, to the shower-bath ; all the water that was in the tank-~amounting to from three to five barrels, the quantity is uncertain—was showered unon him in spite of his piteous cries: a few minutes after his release from the bath he fell prostrate, was carried to his cell, and died in five minutes It is this homicide which we this k illustrate, use of the shower-bath as a means of coercing criminals inte ubmission to the orders of prison uthorities began to be general ibout the year 1845, In that year 4 convict at the Auburn State Pris oa was whipped by order of compe- tent authority, and died under the lash rhe public indignation which was aroused by the event led to the ibolition of whipping as a punish- ment in the prisons of the State of New York it was preserved in other States, as, for instance, in Connecticut, ia which State Prison wardens are authorized to this to administes stripes—, lav t over ten HARPER'S WEEKLY. Wie \} | i ® e f | ) \\ x WS THE NEGRO CONVICT, MORE, SHOWERED TO DEATH in number—to refractory prisoners. But in New York the cat was dis- used, and the shower-bath reigned in its stead. This bath varies in the several penal establishments of this State. In some the culprit stands, and re- ceives the shower in a standing po- sition. In others, as at Auburn, he sits in a chair which reminds one of the old “stocks.” His legs and arms are pinioned ; his neck fits into a sort of dish, which closes tightly round his throat. As soon as he is fastened therein, a cloth is put into the dish to prevent the water escap- ing, too fast. The string is then pulled, and the stream falls. Ifthe convict does not keep his head well erect, with his mouth as high above water as his position will allow, he will suffocate. Indeed his attitude and the machine are such that he feels perpetually in imminent dan- ger of suffocation. The consequence is that his sole thought while he is under the shower is to keep his mouth and nose above water; and the agony of this effort is aggrava- ted by the fact that his neck, feet, and arms are tightly pinioned. Our illustration will enable the reader to judge of the feelings of the cul- prit who is adjudged to endure this penalty. Of course, the severity of the shower-bath as a penal method is proportioned to the character of the victim and the season of the year. In August a shower-bath is no great hardship to a white person, though to a negro accustomed to tropical heat it may be less pleasant. In November no one cares about be- ing placed under a fall of water for many minutes ; and least of all a ne- gro, who is far less capable of bear- ing intense cold than a person of the white race. Very few white men, however robust, would be able to endure a ten minutes’ flow of ice- cold water at the present season. The negro More, it seems, was sub- jected to an incessant stream of wa- ter at 32° Fahrenheit for half an hour. It is no matter of wonder that he died of it. It is clear that some coercive methods must be employed in pris- ons to reduce culprits to subordina- tion ; though, of course, nothing can justify their being murdered by an- gry keepers. We give illustrations of the various methods which are at present employed in the Auburn and «ther State prisons for the suljugs- tion of refractory convicts. — One is the pulley. This instru- ment of torture consists of a system of pulleys connected with rings, which are attached to the wrists of the culprit and to one of his ankles, so that so long as he és under the process his whole weight rests on one leg ; the sensation of having his arms raised above his head beeomes after a time excruciatingly painful ; and, if the punishment be prolong- ed, it becomes almost intolerable. Another method of punishment is bucking. This has long been in use among the negroes in tropical coun- tries. It consists in fastening the hands tightly, passing them over the knees, and thrusting a stout stick between the inside of the knees and the arms. Thus spitted, the

Page 9

LL DecemBer 18, 1858.] _HARPER'S WEEKLY. THE YORE. convict is helpless, and may be rolled about hither or thither, as his rulers please. No evil conse- quences have ever been known to flow from this punishment. Another penalty used at the Auburn State Pris- on is the crown. This is a simple helmet of met- al, which is worn over the head. It is wnat- tended by pain, and is rather a badge of disgrace than a method of torture. It may be compared to the fool's cap which is in use in most of our schools. The yoke is a bar of iron four or five inches wide, and from five to six feet in length, with a staple at either end to fasten the wrists, and one in the centre to encircle the neck. Our engraving will give a very fair idea of the mode in which this punishment is employed. When a culprit is con- demned to the yoke, the staples are tightened so that he can net disengage his neck or hands. The pain of the yoke depends on its weight and on the length of time it is worn. They usually vary from thirty-four to forty pounds. A late physician e7 the Sing Sing prison wrote of the yoke: “The principal objection to this punishment is that the yoke bears too heavily on the cervical vertebra Most persons are aware of the unpleasant—and, in fact, insupportable—sensation produced even by the weight of the unbuttoned eoat and vest pressing upon the back of the neck. Under the weight of this instrument the con- viet can not retain the erect posture for even a few min- utes consecutively, but is foreed to bend forward in his continual writhing, which brings the entire weight of the bar upon the lower cervical vertebra. The arms are generally stretched to their full length, and, from steady tension of the nerves, are benumbed; while the hands turn purple, and at times become much swollen. In sev- eral instances I have placed my fingers beneath the yoke, and found the pressure so great that it was actually pain- ful to me.” With regard to the shower-bath, we can not do better than subjoin the following extract from a letter of a late physician of the Auburn State pris- | Hill il Wi mt a siderable i.aportance. But to the physiologist, who can alone judge with any degree of correctness of the influ ence of a stream, generally at 32° Fahrenheit, falling upon the head and thence covering the whole body, the suffering induced, and danger incurred, must appear mo- mentous in the extreme. BUCKING. ‘In an essay on the employment of water in surgery, by Alphonso Auguste Amussat, of Paris, translated by H. Hamilton, Buffalo University, there are some applicable remarks relative to the physi- ological effects of water. Profersor Frank H. Tut aii \ iii] \\ TN eH vel EXTERIOR OF A CONVICTS CELL on, addressed to a Se- lect Committee of the New York State Assem- bly of 1851: “The form of the show- er-bath is that of the com- mon stocks, with a reser- voir of water above it, hav- ing a head of fifty-four inches, measuring from the surface of the water to the perforated plate at the end of the discharging- tube. The offender, being stripped of his clothing, is placed in a sitting posture in the stocks, with feet and hands securely fastened, and his head contained in a sort of hopper, the bot- tom of which encircles his neck so closely that the water will not run off as fast as it can be let on, the water being under the con- trol of the keeper by mens of a cord attached to a valve in the bottom of the reservoir. From the per- forated plate the water falls about eighteen inch- es, when it strikes the head of the convict, immovably fixed, thence passing over the whole surface of the body. When the reser- voir is full, the force of the blow upon the head is near- ly equal to a column of wa- ter seventy-two inches in height. This force is some- what reduced by the inter vention of the perforated plate—a late modification in the instrument. “To the mechanic, who calculates the infivence of mere matter upon matter, the power of this column of water must possess con- “*The application of cold water,” he says, ‘es- pecially in winter, pro- duces horripilations and shiverings, which continue more or less time. I have lately seen, in one of the hospitals of Paris, a man who had his hand crushed. The surgeon, after having amputated two fingers, submitted the hand to continued irrigations of cold water. The patient assured me that during eight days he experienced constant chills, despite all the means employed to keep him warm. ** Sanson says he saw a female with whom a su- perficial burn seemed to indicate cool applications, and who was seized with tetanus soon after their use had been commenced. “*Goursaud reports a case of Guyenot's, in which having been applied an hour or two upon a stran- gulated hernia, the hernia was not reduced, and the surgeon, obliged to resort to an operation, found the epiploon frozen. “* Who will affirm,’ says Mr. Richet, ‘that the ap- plication of a powerful re- frigerant upon a large sur- face will not, by repelling inward upon the viscera the blood which originally abounded upon the diseas- ed part’ (and I may add on the surface of the body), ‘occasion congestions, and rive birth to those compli- cations to which I have al- juded? The facts are ev- the practitioner ought to profit by them." “** Thave collected,’ says Amussat, ‘ also several ca- ses of patients who, having been submitted to irriga- tions with cold water, have suddenly died with some nervous malady.’ “These extracts are made to show how power- ful and even dangerous the effects of cold water upon the system are, even when employed by the most ex- perienced hands “Most convicts have great dread of this mode of punishment, but as the emotion of fear to the un- reflecting mind presents little or no barrier to the commiesion of crimes hav- ing their origin in the emo- tions, it does not prevent a violation of rules which are in opposition to the instincts; still, when the offender sees the penalty with no hope of escape, this most depressing of the passions augments the danger to which he is about to be exposed. This psychological effect is so great upon some individ- uals before entering the stocks, and a pallor so derthlike is induced, that the officer on duty dares not subject the offender to this ordeal. I have, in one instance, heard the convict solemnly implore his keep er not to make him an in- sane man. Who is able to comprehend the condition of mind under such cir- cumstances ’ **To illustrate the effects of this mode of punish ment, I will cite a few instances. **Convict number 5066, aged about thirty years, of sanguine nervous temperament, was brought to the hos pital in a perfectly unconscious state, and with convul sive twitchings of the muscles. His mouth filled with frothy saliva, no perceptible pulsations in the radial ar- THE CROWN. brandy and other stimu- lants were administered In four hours after enter ing the hospital his con- sciousness returned “ This individual was so nearly destroyed that he had passed into that calm, quiet mental state that im- mediately precedes death by drowning. He said, that at last he hed the de- lightful sensation of sail- ing, and then it was all over. He suffered from cramps in his lower ex- tremities for about three months after. “In this case the entire inability of the keeper to judge of the potency of the punishment was pecu liarly manifest. The con viet, who was in good health and spirits, pre- sented to him no objection to its application. In mat ters within his compreher sion, this keeper had good judgment, and, withal, was of a humane disposition, but of either the tempera- ment or idiosyncrasy of the convict he knew nothing, and consequently was in capable of wielding judi ciously a means so power ful “In my presence, con viet number 5458 was show ered with one and a half barrels of water. During the operation the muscles of the chest and abdomen were severally exercised When taken out of the stocks, his skin was cold and shriveled; there wa no perceptible pulsation in ery where to be seen, and the temporal or radial ac tery, but little external heat, and very imperfect respira- tion. He had been showered, as 1 was credibly informed, with about two pails of cold water. His body wasruboed with stimulants and warmly covered with blankets. In about two hours, deglutition was partly restored, when | THE PULLYY teries, and he cor n 4 of severe cephalalgs He was showered as Jor st officer on duty dared to continue it. He made no acknowledgment of his falt, and, in mv opinion, would not have conctuded to 4 until it was too late to be able accomplish it This convict possessed a nervous bi s temperament, which isknown to resist to the utr tevery means employed to render ts possessor subservient to the will of others “In this instance the keeper did not desist from any unfavorable appearances, but because, as he remarked, he had applied ar wn h water as he thoucht safe. To the physiologist, bow er, the physical condition thus induced must appear to be of the most serious character Had the punishment been continued much longer, there would, in all probability, have reeulted organic lesion from internal congestion “Convict number SO0T wae showered with two end a half barrels of wate This punishment I did not wit ness, but from the servation of the keeper. that * the water ran off him as it would from a duck, without hie feeling it,’ I was induced to interrogate the convict my self. To my inquiries, he replied that he would have died before acknowledging any thing He said the wa ter made his head ache; that he felt cold, and that bis flesh hed the sensation of being asierp His tempera ment was nervous bilions, the bitlous predominating ‘‘Convict number 4565, aged 63 years of canguine nervous temperament, and in ¢ i health, was showered with three pails of cold water He was taken from the stocks in convulsions, which lasted some thirty minutes when se was conveyed to the hospital. When I saw him, about an hour afterward, he had congestion of the brain, accompanied with severe cephatalgy laboring under great derangement of mind, and recoliecte4 but little of what had transpired. lle eald he had been struck on his head, but He was bled thirty ounces, and took a cathartic potion there were no external signe of ¥ lence The venesection partly relieved the pain, but not the de rangement The cathartic operated freely, and on the following morning his mind was his head still ached nid he was ‘bound with a band of ir ters, after several days, the pain and constriction gradu ally subsided “Convict number 4989 was showered previous to my connection with the Prison. He told me that while in arentivy clear, but ugh his head e vee of D'is- INTERIOR r A ( :

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i HARPER'S WEEKLY. [Decemner 18, 1858.. 810 the stocks ‘his head ached as though it would certainly split open, when all at once it suddenly stopped, and he felt no more pain.’ He came out of the stocks an insane man, hopelessly incurable, though at times he converses understandingly about the panishmeat. “Convict gumber 6669 was showered with six pails of water, discharged on bis bead in a half inch stream. Shortly after he fell into convulsions, from which he emerged with a mind totally destroyed. He was par- doned Ia about three months afterward, and a report sub- sequently reached the prison that ho did not long sur- vive the injury. This eccurred previous to my connec- tion with the prisow “Convict number 5446, seventeen years old, and of lymphatic teu:perament, was showered with three barrels of water, but with little or no effect, as he himself told me, which shows how useless it is, as @ means of pun- ishment, in some cases. “The instances I have selected for your reflection’ are the extremes—not of everyday occurrence—but, never- theless, they go to show how inappropriate it is to place this punishment in hands totally inadequate to compre- hend its power, ’ “The frequent repetition of the shower-bath—I was informed by an officer who for several years had ac- quired more information in regard to ite effects, from personal observation, than any other individual ip the prison snders the conviet less able to resist its influ- _re ence, and that after several applications it required great- er caution in its use,” In spite of these lessons the shower-bath has con- tinued to be commonly employed in our prisons, 1 at Sing Sing as at Auburn, At the former prison a hose is occasionally substituted for the and it has at times been applied so close- ly to the face of the patient that, simultaneously with the flow of water upon the face, blood has gushed from the nose, ears, and mouth. At Au- burn it ie believed the hose has not been used. At the same time it is qtrite clear that, under certain ircumstances, the flow of ice-cold water through the pores of a shower-bath may prove even more fatal th shower + in a flood from a hose When the shower is let loose upon & man in a perspiration, as was the case with the negro More, who had just fought might and main with his keepers, the shower of ice-cold water could not but be highly dangerous, Mr. Pilebury, the experienced warden of Ward's Island, who has beea upw ard of thirty years en- gaged in the administration of prisons in this sec- tion of country, has been heard to declare that he has never found it necessary to administer any cor- poreal punishment whatever to his convicts. It is believed that he regards the cat, under proper ruidance, as the wholesomest instrument of co- a ercion, but he has never needed even that ally ; and it must be sdmitted that he has had more ex- perience than any of our prison managers. The chief er-or in the management of our State prisons arises from the liberty which subordinates enjoy in the matter of punishments. Subordinate prison officials are appointed on political grounds ty Prison Inspectors, themselves creatures of party political couventions. ‘They are seldom men of character, experience, or education. Not unfre- quently they are jail birds, who have acquired their claim to their appointments by shoulder-hit- ting. The late homicide at Auburn appears to be a natural result of this system. The man More was murdered simply because the punishment he endured was inflicted by subordinates who under- stood little or nothiag abeut prison discipline, and *ere animated more by momentary rage than by a philosophical desire to have the prison regula- tions carried out. They killed him because he 1e- sisted and seemed to have threatened them. A judicious werden wou!d heve subdued him with- eat difficulty. All that remains now to be done is the duty of ‘he District Attorney. An inquest has been held on the body of the negro. Eight men composed the jnry, six of whom are said to have been prison contractors. They refused to allow the prison physician to deliver his evidence, as he wished ; and found the absurd verdiet that the man’s death had been ‘‘ hastened” by the use of the shower- bath. It is clear that if any notice is to be taken of this pocr convict’s death the District Attorney must move in the matter. It remains to be seen whether he will do so; or whether the civilization of the State of New York is to be disgraced by the torture and horsicide, by State officials, of a poor convict in a State prison. CHESS CHRONICLE. BY C. MH. STANLEY. PROBLEM IX. ny “sacosyus.” BLACK. ws Hy 4) S 4 veal SM N SS SS RS ’ RWOWMWAAY. es . > Doe N SS WHITE. White to play and ec} cmate in four moves. TO CORRESPONDENTS. RF. M. (i » You intion to“ G#prea's™ very beantiful Pro nis 4 rrect ; as also are those of De. KR, J. BK. D. T., & M., and J. KK. Very many unsuccessful attempts are to hand, including those of ©.T.,L. RyG. T., and ©. M. We find that our friends, generally, agree with us in the opinion that this position is among the best of its class which has ever been pub- lished. “Duneprx.” Do you think that your last is quite up to your usual standard? Our examiner has marked it for an enigma; and, ag we must endeavor to get through our correspond how, we take the liberty of so treating it. “Jaconus.” Wegive you a diagram, and print your other position as an enigma. R. C. & (Yazoo). Received, and replied to by mail. R. F. M. An error in your transcript. Q ean not check at Kt 6.————G. B. L. (Beverley Chess Club) and “*Tx10" appear to have sent no solutions, without which we never examine such contributions, L. B. and J. P. M. do not send likewise a necessary ground for inattention. REN. (Va... Diagram sent too difficult of interpretation. J. W., dan. (Syracuse). Problenis neat but not quite of sufficient depth.— Ii. F. B. (Philadelphia). Game well played, but not of sufficient 1 interest to war- rant publication. ——[Some contributions yet remain in the hands of our examiner. He will accept our thanks for his assistance so far. Ile promises a farther report next week.) SOLUTION TO PROBLEM VIII. Whtre. Brack. 1. Ktto Q5 Q to Kt 5 (ch) 2. Kt interposes checkmatc. In place of the above move, should Black take Kt with King, he is mated on the move by “ Ktto B6." Should he adopt any other variation the counter move will be readily discernible. Provuiem VII.—In this beautiful emanation of Mr. 8. Loyd we believe that, for the first time, he will be found in efror. ‘To render the position perfect a White Pawn should be placed at K B 3. For this correction we are indebted to our contributor Dr. R., of Philadelphia. Curss Extemas.—With respect to the various methods of Chess notation which have at sundry times been intro- duced, after careful examination we are by no means satisfied that any one has sufficient merit to warrant the discontinuance of that in more common use. For the present, therefore, we shall adhere to that which will be readily understood by all readers; and now proceed to print, in that form, a few positions which our space will not permit of exhibiting upon the usual ENIGMA L BY “ puNEDIN.” White to play and checkmate in three moves. Warre—K at Q3. B's atK Sand QT. Kt's atx 4 and KS. P'satQ Kt 3, Q Kt5, and K Kt 4 Brack.—K atQ4. BatKB2 P's at K RS, K Kt2 and 4, K 8, Q3, and QB4 ENIGMA IL. ny “Jacobus.” White to play and checkmate in three moves. Wiite—K atQB2 RatQR KtatK BS. BatQ 8 Psat K B3,QB3, and QKkta Buack.—K atQB5. P’sat Q R2 and 3. The following well-contested and highly-instructive game was lately played in London between Herr Falk- beer and a young Englishman named Campbell, who promises, ere long, to take a high position among the first players of the day. Wartr, Falkbeer. Brack, Campbell, 1 PtwoK4 PtwK3 2 PtoQg4 Ptog4 3. P takes P P takes P 4. KttoK B3 KttoK B3 5. oe Pad 6. BtoK Kt5 PtoK R38 7. BioKR4 KttoQB3 8 PwQBs BtoK3 9. Castles PtoK Kt4 10. Bto K Kt3 KttoK5 11. B takes B Kt takes B 12. RtoK PtoK Kt5 13, KttoK5) Kt takes Kt 14. BR takes Kt Qt KB3 @ 15. QtoQR4 (ch) KtwoKB 16. Re to G8 P to QR3® 17. QRto PtoKR4 18. Qtog PtoK RS 19. PtooKB4 R to K @ 20. PtoK BS B takes P 21. B takes B R takes R 22. P takes R Q takes B 23. P takes Kt P takes P 24. Qto K2 RtoKR3 25. Q to K 7 (ch) K to Kt2 26. RtoK B QteK R4 27. Kt to Q Kt3 RtoK3 28. Q takes Kt P Pt KR6 29. Kt to Q4 RtoK B3 80. Q takes Q RP P to K Kt6 @ 81. P takes Kt P P takes P 82. K takes P White wins. Norgs. (a) Up to this period both opening and defense have been con: ducted with great care and spirit; but about this move there is room to cavil, We think that either“ K to Q 2” or “Q to Q 9,” partica- larly the latter, would have at least equal merit. (5) Mr. Falkbeer considers, and we doubt not justly, that “P to Q B 4” would have been better play. (e) To take “ K B P,” en pass., would be hazardous in the extreme, (d) Probably with the hope of drawing the game by perpetual check; but against such i y bis wily antagonist is well pre- pared. THE HEIR OF HARDINGTON. CHAPTER L Wues Sir Willoughby Monke, of Hardington and Frogholmes, died, he left two daughters—co- heiresses. The estates, each lying in a different county, were not to be dismembered for equal di- vision, but to be drawn by lot according to his will. Cecily, the elder daughter, got Hardington, in Yorkshire; Frogholmes, left to Eliza, the younger, was in the Fens of Lincolnshire. Within eighteen months of their father’s death both the heiresses n-arried, bestowing name and fortune on their re- spective husbands, for the name of Monke was to ge stways with the property, which was strictly entailed on any children that the sisters might bear. The marriages were equally discreet and commonplace. Mr. Percival and Mr. Cholmonde- ley became Monkes without hesitation, and enter- ed on the regency of their wives’ estates with se- date satisfaction and th. general good opinion of their neighvors. Their known wealth notwith- standing, the sisters had never been popular or much sought after. They were plain young women; short and inel- egant in figure, and with ordinary blunt features, small eyes, scanty light hair, and indifferent com- plexions. They had received narrow educations even for that time, and had no natural enlarge- ment of mind to make up for defects of training. They had, however, a few decided ov iuions ; among which were these: Hardington and Frogholmes were the finest estates in the kingdom; Monke was the most distinguished name in the red books ; Cecily and Eliza Monke were the most to be en- vied of all the heiresses in the whole wide world. With such sublime and happy views of themselves and their belongings the sisters could not fail to be reasonably amiable ; apart from a stolid obstinacy in the elder, and a craving selfishness in the youn- ger, they were amiable. They were very peace- able wives in a house, but then they ruled and their husbands obeyed. This was the conjugal arrangement from the beginning—the wisest ar- rangement under the circumstances. When Cecily married Mr. Percival she was sev- en-and-twenty ; a woman without romance, with- out tenderness, without geniality, sympathy, or any of the little lovable traits which are the vital breath of domestic life. A man might almost as well take a stone into his bosom as such a piece of animated clay for a wife. Mr. Percival Monke was not a great character, but he had enough of the leaven of humanity in him to experience very considerable annoyance from Cecily’s coldness. He had been rather taken by her orderliness and system, by her care of her father, and her pride of station, and though not in love, he thought she would make him a suitable partner. He was dis- appointed; but a few failures convinced him of the fruitlessness of attempting to work any change in her, so he betook himself to field pursuits, and went often from home, while she droned on her placid, self-concentrated way, buried alive at Hardington, neither receiving nor paying visits when they could be avoided. Mr. and Mrs, Cholmondeley Monke’s life was not unlike that led by Cecily and her husband, at first; but afterward, perhaps under pressure of boredom, perhaps from more vivacity of temper and less principle, Mr. Cholmondeley broke out into certain excesses which speedily cramped the revenues of Frogholmes. Cecily, indignant that Eliza had not governed her spouse better, declined to receive either of them at Hardington, and was as glad as her temperament permitted her to be when they forsook the Fens and went to live abroad. , For several years neither sister bore children ; but, at last, Eliza wrote to announce a daughter, and in reply Cecily sent word that, three months before, she had blessed Hardington with a son and heir. CHAPTER II. Tue Heir of Hardington. Lord of the Manor of Hardington. Francis George Percival Monke, Lord of the Manor of Hardington. Such was his mother’s view of the wizened, monkey-faced boy she had brought into the world. Never “my baby,” “‘my poor little weakling baby,” never “ joy, or love, or pet, or pride, or de- light,” but always Heir of Hardington, Lord of the Manor of Hardington — representative of so many acres and so much money, and so many ne- glected responsibilities. Poor little Francis George Percival Monke ! How he was doctored, and iron-framed, and mo- ther-tutored, and private-tutored, and padded and bolstered, and bepraised! No baby of any sagac- ity but would have made haste to die under such an ordeal, evem had it been preparatory to the in- heritance of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. But Francis George, being a dull boy, lived through it, and at twelve years old was about as foolish, as conceited, and as helpless a lad as the race of Monke ever produced. By that time he had ontgrown the iron frame, and could walk straight on his feeble limbs; he could also every particular of the estate he was to tell you its value under the old leases, and what it might be made to produce when the said leases fell in ; and also he could exact reverence to himself from tenant and servant as their master in embryo. His father said he was a fool. There was a grain of good in him, of course, as there is in every heart, God-planted, until the dev- il-sown tares of the world spring up to choke it. He would not inflict pain, and was sorry to see pain ; he was kind to animals; he was not ungen- erous ; and he worshiped his mother. She never caressed him—never indulged him. ‘ You ought to do this,” ‘*‘ You must learn to do that,” “‘ Such and such honor is your due and your right,” were speeches constantly on her lips, though never ac- companied with an incitement to any high or no- ble rule of life. If she had lost him she would have grieved for him as the lost heir of Harding- ton, not as her one child whose birth-pangs had al- most cost her life. She taught him her notion of the duties of prop- erty practically ; and as her notion was how to get most money out of it, and how to put the least into it, his views did not become very liberal or extend- ed. For him there was a sermon in each stone of the village of Hardington—a village not pretty by any means, nor well-ordered, nor ppm well-mannered, but still quite good enough for Percival Monke so long as the cottagers were punc- tual with their rent. CHAPTER TIL THERE is no knowing into what depths of stulti- fied folly the lad might have meandered but for a lucky accident that befell him when he was about sixteen. He was riding an ill-broken pony th the village of Grenside, when it took fright and ran away with him, threw him, and broke his arm. The youth was picked up and carried into the house of the curate of the parish, whose wife put him to bed, and sent for his mother and the doctor. The doc- tor came and set the limb, and his mother came to nurse him; but finding her own comforts restrict- ed in the curate’s abode, she soon left him to re- cover without her attendance. She acted advised- ly; Francis George could not have been in better hands. Mr. Proby was a plain, steady-going, worthy clergyman, and his wife was an excellent woman ; a woman of talent and education, of enthusii«m and genuine warm-heartedness, Cui Proby had a house full of children—hearty, noisy, generous, mischievous boys, and laughter-loving, pretty girls. All the family were good-looking ; but Katie was a real beauty, a copy of her mother —nearly, if not quite, as handsome as her mother had been at the same age. There was no nonsense about Katie—no silly affectation of boyishness, no still sillier affectation of premature womanishness. She was a thorough girl —tall, slight, agile—as swift a runner, and as good a climber, skipper, and general play-fellow as brothers could wish for; and yet she was an at her needle, a good nurse, a clever little , and a most sunshiny com- panion to every body, A great part of the attend- ance upon Francis George fell to her share, and she did it with a cheerful alacrity and kindness all her own. There was not much about the young gentleman to attract liking; he did not Ses iorise in the family by any means; the smaller Proby chil- dren disliked him, in fact ; and even their mother, kind as she was, found him too exacting and im- perious an inmate to be civil to longer than neces- sary : 80, as soon as he was sufficiently recovered to return home, he was not pressed to stay longer. Every one took leave of him rather gladly than otherwise—Katie included. Going back to Hardington was a return to polar regions. Francis George missed something. He missed the a here of warm affection that sur- rounded the curate’s hearth, and made his family as one ; he missed the cheerful voices and laugh- ter, and, above all, he missed Katie’s smile and good-humored attentions. His mother was like a machine, after those impulsive Probys. Francis George tried to thaw her by telling her stories of the ways and customs of the curate’s house; but he might as easily have hoped to thaw the old stone griffins at Hardington gate by breathing on them as to thaw her by any such process. She became by-and-by quite impatient of any allusion to his friends, and told him that his gratitude was ab- surdly overstretched. Yes; Francis George had a fund of obstinate, pertinacious, unforgetting gratitude in his disposi- tion, which this lucky accident developed. It was the nearest approach to any decided virtue that he had yet displayed. His father and mother had in- sisted on compensating Mrs. Proby for the trouble and expense of their son's recovery, but Francis George could not be persuaded to look upon it as a canceling of his debt. He turned his pony’s head teward Grenside nearly every day, and inquired after the health of the Probys, as if, instead of be- ing a hardy race, they were a family of chronic in- valids. Katie used to go out to the gate, laugh- ing, to answer his questions and receive his mes- sages ; and one day, with a fiery blush on his face ard a nervous stammer in his voice, he told her he had brought her a little present. “You must not let my mother know; but I spent all my quarter over it,” said he, in a hurried whisper, trying to put a morocco case into her hands; but Katie, clasping those little members behind her back, shook her head in a resolute way, and said she must not accept presents from him; papa would not like it—especially if Mra. Percival Monke did not know. “Oh! but do, Katie! I should never have bought it but for you. It is a watch and chain!” persisted he, with anxious earnestness. In the first place, it had cost him an immense effort of self-denial to make the purchase at all; and in the second, he hac. been full a month in raising up his courage to offer it. It was cruel indeed to reject it, and his “ Do, Katie !"’ was most pathetic. **No, no, no!” she replied ; “you ought not to have spent your money in such a foolish way.” “It is not foolish. Look here, Katie! I like you better than any body in the world, except my mother: that do! You're so good !” Katie ran away laughing, with her hands over her ears; the more he called to her to stop, the more she would not. “‘ Katie, if you won't have it I'll throw it into the mill-dyke !” he cried at last; and as she still paid no heed, he turned round toward home, and was as good or as bad as his word. For more than a week after this rebuff he did not appear at Grenside at all. He was apparently offended by Katie’s very proper refusal of his gift. She had toléher mother the whole story—the threat about the mill-dyke ineluded—but neither believed he would be so wild as to put it in execution; so that, when one of the Proby boys came home ex- with the moroced case in his hand, pro- that he had found it among the long reeds the , they were unfeignedly surprised. y had not given Francis George credit for so and both of them jiked him the better for this foolish extravagant flight. Katie, by her father’s orders, even wrote him a kind little letter, the was sent back to him. next day he came to see them again, mak- ing no allusion either to the watch or to his long absence, and then regularly resumed his calls with active . The Probys, one and all, were very kind to him; but oh! what foolish speeches he used to make about his property, his dignity, and himself! How he did bore poor Katie and her mother over their work-tab/e, when he tangled every reel, and disordered every box and basket that came within his reach. He had a stupid tu- tor at home, who taught him a little Latin and Greek, but left him as ignorant of commonplace useful knowledge as a Feejee Islander. If you had asked him where America was, whether it was land or water or cream-cheese, he could not have told rae an awful shock to the heir of Hardington when, a long time after, he offered his hand, his heart, and his futurity tc the poor curate’s daugh- ter, and was refused. He was in real, hard earn- est, poor long-limbed, feeble-minde:! fellow; and when Katie blushed rather angrily, and said ‘ No,” in a curt, unmistakable tone, the tears fairly came into his eves. ' thenght vou liked me, «, haven't I been ui } ? You don’t know, I can’t

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DecemBer 18, 1858.] tell you how fond fam of you! I'd do any thing for you, Katie, that I woul!!! My mother knows I would,” spluttered he, with frightful energy. “I'm so sorry, Francis George, I am so very sorry,” replied Katie, a little frightened and sub- dued. ‘‘It is of no use to be sorry; if you don’t like me, you can’t help it, and I don’t care what be- comes of me if youdon’t. But it is too bad. I ceuld not have believed it!” This anti-climax to his emotion almost made Katie smile ; but, check- ing the impulse, she pretended to hear her mother calling to her, and left her discomfited suitor alone. Francis George Percival Monke was only nine- teen when he thus exhibited himself, and had nev- er left his mother’s apron-strings for a single day. _——- _:_ OHAPTER IV. Ma. anp Mrs. CHoLMONDELEY Mowke contin- ued to reside abroad, in more or less discomfgt, until their daughter was of an age to be introduced into society, and then they brought her home to En- gland, and, at her aunt's invitation, to Harding- ton. The two sisters had made a compact for the reunion of their family property by marrying their children; and each was formally told of this com- pact before they met. Francis George received the announcement in solemn silence, and Flora re- ceived it with an expressive giggle and a hope that her cousin was handsome and lively, and not mopish, like so many of the English gentlemen she had seen abroad. Flora Monke had no hereditary right to be pretty, but she was pretty, even beautiful; and her for- eign manners and graces had the air of making her still prettier than she was. Her aunt received her with surly approbation, and Francis George with a stolid composure which did not promise.any keen susceptibility to her charms. She was piqued, and told her mother he was an idiot. If Flora expected to be courted, and flattered, and worshiped by her cousin, she must have been disappointed, for he kept as much out of her way as ever he could, and never said a civil thing to her; a peculiarity for which his mother took him to task one morning when they werealone. She still treated her son as authoritatively as when he was a boy in tunics. ‘Francis George, you are a dull wooer,” she said, with slow sarcasm; “‘ Flora can not be very proud of you.” “I don’t like Flora,” gravely. * But you must learn to like her, since she is to be your wife—” ** Mother, if Flora Monke was the only woman left in the world | would not marry her. I don’t like her.” Mrs. Percival Monke grew red all over her dull gray face. This was the first word of rebellion and contradiction she had ever heard from her son since he was born; and if he had struck her she could not have looked more indignant or surprised. * Francis George Percival Monke!"’ she cried, with strangled, choking dignity, ‘‘do you know who I am and who you are?” The young man quaked visibly at her awful voice, but the stolid resolution of his visage did not relax a muscle. He was to the full as obstinate as his mother, and when they clashed on a subject —when each was equally determined—then began the tug of war. ‘* Yes, mother; I am heir of Hardington, lord of the manor of Hardington,” said he, in that for- mula which had been dinned into his ears so long. It made his mother laugh ; for, at this moment, it sounded ridiculous enough. sé Deplume you of those distinctions, Sir, and do you know what you are then?” said she, bitterly. “My father says I am a fool,” replied Francis George ; “other people are of a like opinion—” “Not such a fool as they take you to be,” said his mother. “You have as much sense as nine men in ten if you will use it, and you must use it now in overcoming your absurd aversion to your cousin Flora. I say you shall marry her—and soon, too!” “And I say I will not! I am almost of age, and I shall be my own master in that matter at least.” The young man spoke quietly but firmly. His mother, looking up at his face, felt the reins of au- thority slipping from her grasp. Her weak, awk- ward, foolish boy was, as it were, become a man by magic. There he stood before her, six feet two. lean but sinewy, a face far from vacuous; express- ive, indeed, of a brute courage and obstinacy which, being provoked, would never slumber again. But for his foolish training he would have been a fine young man; as it was, he had not active mind enough to inform that mass of matter. The old habit of love and fear of his mother was strong upon him yet; she saw it, and hoped to triumph still. “You ought to be glad that Flora will have you,” she said, “ and you ought to have a pleasure in reuniting our dissevered property. If you do not marry Flora, you may be your own master, but you shall not be master of any thing else while I live, and when I die you shall have nothing but the bare estate ; that I promise you.” “T don’t care for Hardington. I don’t see any good it has ever done either you or my father or me. I think it is a miserable place,” replied Fran- cis George, in perfeet good faith. His mother’s eyes fixed him as if she thought him a maniac in . dangerous mood. “Will you be pleased to explain yourself, if ou are not raving; which I sadly suspect,” sai he, fiercely. 4 re ‘Why, mother, what good has it done us or any body ?” persisted the heir. “ My father is always away in London, and hates it. You sit at work all day as hard as if you worked for bread, and no- body comes near you ; and, because of it, you would make me marry a girl I don’t love. the village. replied Francis George, y s Such dirty old houses and people, | and no schools. If we were paupers instead of people of ten thousand a year, we could not have a greater heap of misery outside the gates than we have. What is the good of the Hardington money if we don’t spend it? I say again, I don't care for Hardington. Mr. Proby’s sons are better off than I am; because they have been well brought up and they have got professions. When I am among fellows of my age I feel like a fool, and I am a fool.” * That is a fact beyond doubt,” replied his mo- | ther, dryly. “But don’t waste any more breath over decrying Hardington—you shall leave it you shall have a profession, Yes! yes! you shall be an idle gentleman no longer!” There was a disagreeable tone in this threat whieh made Francis George turn hot-and cold all over, It was a rather critical act of his, this sal- den snapping of the leading strings in which he had walked so long and humbly. He felt vexed, too, in a stupid sort of way, at having vexed his mother, and was just on the point of making some concession when Flora came into the room—4'lora in a gay muslin dress and most coquettish hat; a maiden to attract a man’s fancy, most people would have thoug | , but, as it seemed, not the star t | could attract hi | ‘Flora, our young gentleman takes 1 rag the gifts of fortune, and despises them—heroic, is her said Mrs, Percival Monke | Flora glanced from one te the other with a} zled air, and asked what was the matter? Fran- cis George went out and left his mother to explain as little ght desirable. The consequence of her explanation was, that the Hard- ington Monkes and the Frogholmes Monkes s ed coldly the next day, and Fl nt to pr cute her first campaign in town. Franeis George did net care where she went, so long as he was no more troubled with her airs and graces. — CHAPTER V. Tae lawyer who managed the business affairs of the Monkes was Mr. Leatherhead; a dry, clev- er, craft-ingrained old fellow, who greatly admired the elder of the co-leiresses’ style of saving and managing her property. He said she had a brain as acute and as hard as most men, and it was a pity her son was so little like her. He thought he knew her pretty well, but even he, for a man of varied experience, was extremely astonished when he received from her the following letter: oras much as she thou irat- ra W “Hanprveron, Jenct, 183- * Stn,—I am sure you will lend me your valuable as- sistance in a project for my son which I have much at heart. He is bitten by some of these radical views for the regeneration of the poor which are subverting socie ty in every quarter, and I think a year's confinement in your office may tend more toward his cure than all the reasoning in the world. Make him work as your lowest clerk, and show him no respect or distinction, as that would defeat my views. Hé shall have no farther allow- ance from me than a clerk's salary at a low rate, and I intend that he should live upon it. The harder he fares, the more likely is he to become sensible of his folly in adopting the philanthropic crotchets of the age. Until he gives them up, I quite renounce him. He will be in Then there's on Thursday next Crory P town, and at your office, “ Yours, etc., Mor«xe.” “ Ah! ah!” commented the shrewd old lawyer ; “Miss Cecily’s plan for uniting Hardington and Frogholmes has gone off—that’s the true interpret- ation of thisdocument. What tyrants women are! Well! I suppose I must try to humor both.” Thus it was that Francis George Percival Monke, heir of Hardington, lord of the manor of Harding- ton, became a lawyer'sclerk. His mother thought he would soon sicken of London lodgings and Mr Leatherhead’s sedentary work; but, contrary to her expectations, and even to her hopes, he accom- modated himself to his new position with cheerful- ness and alacrity. He made a friend among his fellow-clerks in the person of young Willie Proby, and the pair took rooms in the same house, and lived togeth@r like brothers. “Francis George is no fool!” said old Leather- head to himself. ‘‘ He is a better fellow, and a more sensible fellow than any of us thought It is that silly mother of his who has had her own ends to serve by keeping him in the background.” Yes. Francis George began to develop a plain, useful kind of ability; he had no genius, but he had concentrativeness, and a very straightforward honesty of purpose. He had grown painfully sens- ible of his deficiencies, and it was almost lauch- able to see with what diligence he strove to repair them in his leisure evenings. The manuals of pop- ular information that he read, the lists of sober facts that he committed to memory, the instruct- ive lectures that he attended, are beyond the cal- culation of his biographer. Odds and ends of his undigested miscellaneous knowledge were contin- ually bursting from him, like scraps from an over full rag-bag, to the sly and secret amusement of his companions. Not one of them cared to laugh at him outright; for his good temper made him liked, and his romantic circumstances made him admired, For six months he remained in the lawyer's office, greatly improving both in miad and manner, as the conceit of himself was rubbed out of him by in- timate contact with other young fellows wiser and cleverer than he. Then the question was proposed to him, whether he was willing to accede to his mother’s wishes, and return home. But George had not tasted the sweets of liberty in vain; he wrote an affectionately respectful letter to his mother, telling her he pre ferred to remain in Lon- don—in which decision his father secretly upheld him. Mrs. Percival Monke now began to lament her hasty banishment of her son, and would have been glad to reeall him on almost any terms; but she was much too tenacious of her maternal author- ity to stoop to him‘and say so, therefore the breach between them widened, ‘The stdden marriage of Flora Monke with a penniless ensign, utterly over- throwing her design for the reunion of Hardington and Frogholmes, exasperated her still more against her son; and, in the first bitterness of her disap- | pointment, she indited to him the following letter : Francis HARPER'S WEEKLY. “ Hanpivetros, FPranots Grorer,—You must have hs i of your cousin Flora’s elopement with Frederick Ste« are answerable for her ruin as well as your n. I throw you off entirely now. You have acted the part of ar dutiful and ungra.eful son. You have taken from me the sole object for wiich I lived. Hardington and Fr holmesyan never again be one; and you, cruel, indiffer ent, wicked, unworthy boy, are the sole cause. You need not trouble yourself to send me any more of your ill-spelled affection: I believe in deeds, not in words, From this day forth your existence is nothing tome. You protestations of must have | gton when I die; but while I live, pct gie wis shall you have. You may live where “ Pye ow 1; and the worst wish I wish you i«, that i e children of your own, they may wring your ‘ ugs as crucily as you have wrung mine Aad jured and aggrieved mother, “ Cpomy Percorva. Morn.” Francis veorge showed the letter to his father ; who only shrugged his shoulders, and wished his | wife wouid e him his full discharge from Hard- ington also, t gh without curtailing his supplies ; but the you utifully endeavored to soft her feelings t i him, and his failure was not chargeall V i l W ' ‘ \ l would hav t i his ex at } T ; - reas lf wit hiy to his f ’ . 1 hin if all t ' M Pr y had got a livi r a few les tov l had brought his family to : ther W went down every Saturday and staid until Mon- ’ nd Francis George al made him course about his father and mother, his sis j brothers, when he came back, until Willie was tired of the subject Come down an see them yourself, I'm sure you will he wel . Willie sugwested, one day : and without any more f George went il invitation Francis > ---— CHAPTER VI WitironaAm Parsoxaat pretty quite rural, though almost within sight of London smoke, and the young Probys flourished there quite as well as they had ever done in the wills of York- shire—almost better. Katie happened to be in the garden cutting flowers for the dr was a peut, om vases Francis George arrived when her brother and She colored up as beautifully as the roses in } hand when her former lover bowed low befor and immediately proposed to go and k hers ther; as no one gainsayed her, av she flew. Mrs Proby was sitting in her work-room when h daughter ran in, laughing, but confused, with mis- chievous ey nd flushed cheel *‘Mamme s whom Willi s brought h I was never so startled is yi ! r of breath; “ and I never saw any body so cl in a couple of years before ! Mamma lowered her sp« les and lool of the window, where she saw h i hi " panion walking. Is it Francis George Percival M Kati she asked, puzzled ‘Yes, isan " » altered Ly your member how foolish he was, and how v l to laugh at him?” ‘Hush. my dear, the wi w is on 2 may hear you I must go down 1 recei nm: but Willie should have let us ki The best room must be got ready for him, I suppose ;” and Mrs. Proby laid aside spectacles and thimble, ar went down stairs to welcome her son's friend When Katie followed her, about ten minutes after, it was in as sedate and composed a manner as she was cupable of assuming on short not but she could not prevent a bright and rosy mai enly consciousness flickering in eye and cl she faced Francis George He blushed, t nd stammered a litile when he began to s actly in his old way; which put ' her ease more than any thing else could have done. Le was very anxious to appear to his best ntage before her, and to impress her th a worthier opinion of his sense than she u to have He began to epitomize a very solid lecture that he had heard a few eve nings hefore Hie ought to hav understood the smile that curled about her pretty mouth better than he did. Sharp-witted Katie un- derstood him well enough, and kind-hearted Katie did not fail to encourage him to shine to the ut- most; but she thought his sulject rather of the gravest to intcodace five minutes after they met “You are becoming quite a scientific character, Francis George,” was Papa Preby's observation at dinner, when the young gentleman had made what he thought a very impressive display of bis new learning. “It is really creditable to you to have acquired so much solid information.” Francis George felt so pleased, and glanced at Katie to see if he had clicited her approbation also. Katie smiled to conceal her temptation to. laugh, and he was delighted. Most fluent did he become on every suljject of interest in which he was suffi- ciently well up to speak correctly Pictures, books ' of travels and biography, of poetr and ft ince, | took their t until, if th sa ta t what he ki , it was a doubt wl ' dil | know too much Katie would | been yl | hear him discourse on everyday matters, | I ; cis George, with an old reputation to « ' i a new one to create, was not to | trivialities. When he left Willingia | Monday morning with Willie |! the pleasing consciousness that vl inspired every body with respect for his learni | ‘A well-informed | gravely admitted him to be ‘« Not so dull as he was, either,” said Katie | ** Out of ev 1 good has « me bserv young man,” Mrs. Proby d the cler- shame that hi him because | would have be suc h a sar Papa Pr tree | Ge I He how Ia d | her Gee hou sak his head doubtful Becaus his mother i as than dren had ure ree Wa : isa fami at his daughter conscions that " blashed and became silent Francis Georye ' must judge most capabl interesting d ; prineiples a Yes, k ence of pe I wish knees rove for her 1 rs oth sut ec. ’ n ; wae tt pp Ir is more hon an a lawver's Willingham after win golden opi: heavy talk bored th tried to forgive it; have offered eviden« ur any ** But you this ir whate ve and served but of affec and wile. any sacrifice that h r the to « rows, whatever their j friend Neither ever ; 4 that he when ; ’ In the garden, for instance » walk rather np and cares, ve e} the : i } nk that wl rn t har whatever their ‘ rt regret han twent lardington and Katie come to his kingdom perience his wealth, | superfiuiti | life and in ¥ ‘ were ai wether a made t united the fo r for ti ang Ka ' sor 1 mutual the lin) hus) a mom th

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‘> re a eer ae ee ee ee eS er SE a ee t - t meer fn oe ee eked aT ae | HARPER'S WEEKLY. [Decemper 18, 1858. THE PRINCIPALITY OF MONACO. lise latest newspapers from Europe inform us that the Emperor of Russia is in treaty for the pur- chase of the little principality of Monaco, on the Gulf of Genoa. This design of his seems to have aroused the most violent opposition on the part of his brother sovereigns; and, in view of the excitement which is expected, we pre- ent the reader, this week, with two views of the town i) and territory of Monaco, and a picture of the Grand Stair- cate to the Palace—the prin- cipal attraction of tae place to strangers. Monaco is an imlependent principality about as big as a fair-sized American coun- ty, with a p a iellon of six usand, and a of twelve hun- It overhangs Mediterranean 4 the blue whose expanse for many unned from the windows of the hand- me Louis Quatorze Pal- ; : miles may be & ce Adown the sides of the hills and in the vall ys gr oranges, lemons, ol- ives, and grapes; grain- fields dot the landscape here and there; the shrubbery is very lovely; the air even balmier than that of Nice; the people generally quiet, polite, al 1 virtuor A lit tle Paradise on earth, in short. Happy in every respect save in its Gov ernment. The Government of Monaco is despotic and pa- | triarchal. The Prince does not, however, bow- | string or behead his subjects from mere pastime. | His tyranny is simply financial. He asks of his people a sum of $10,000 a year—that is to say, @1 75 for every man, woman, and child in the MONACO, principality—and with this the honest man is sat- | AS SEEN | isfied. He goes to live at Paris on his income, and | visits Monaco only in the season when a man of his fashion can not afford to be seen in town. He has had his troubles though. Many years ago he quarreled with his brother sovereign, near- est neighbor, and old ally, the King of Sardinia. Ty WAN FROM THE SEA. successful ; Monaco, driven to sue for peace, agreed to the terms proposed by Sardinia, and the sov- ereigns were friends again. Ever since this little affair Sardinia, fearful lest some other power should follow the example she set, and seize Monaco, has graciously, at her own expense, garrisoned the castle of the Prince with 300 Sardinian troops. {SMM i aa NV, ac iid ad ft (U4 a ee —_— STAIR-CASE OF THE Like many another potentate, His Excellency of Monaco pregumed on his feebleness, and most griev- ously insulted His Majesty of Sardinia. The lat- ter, exasperated beyond endurance, declared war, and sent an army consisting of fourteen men, un- der an old and experienced sergeant, to invade the territory of Monaco and occupy a post which the rival potentates each claimed. The invasion was = Naat ih wy NX "A LACE OF MONACO A few years ago the Prince of Monaco was very hard up, having just returned from a most unlucky season at Baden. It occurred to him, while re- flecting on his distresses, that the Grand Duke of Baden made a great deal of money by licensing gambling-houses in his dominions; and that he, the Prince, would retrieve his shattered fortunes in a remarkably short space of time if he did the | MONACO, FROM A HEADLAND, EAST. ‘ tod me Ee NSPE like. Accordingly, experienced gamblers were hired by the Prince; and, next summer, roulette and rouge et notre tables were opened at Monaco. The fashionable world were notified that they could lose their money and blow their brains out as sat- isfactorily by the side of the blue Mediterranean as under the dusky sky of Germany. But they wouldn't take the hint. Ba- den had the prestige. Baden was near Paris, near Lon- don; near every where.— So, after waiting all sum- mer, with his croupiers feeding on him, the poor Prince of Monaco was oblig- ed to return to Paris poorer than ever. His last device is the scheme to which we allude above. He wants to sell his principality to Russia. It would be a good thing for him ; a good thing for Rus- sia, which needs a Mediter- ranean port badly ; but it is not likely to suit Sardinia and France quite as well. If Russia owned Monaco she would keep a powerful squadron in the Mediterra- nean, and, by choosing her time properly, might renew her designs on Turkey with almost a certainty of suc- cess. A breakwater would convert the anchorage at Monacho into a large and safe harbor. WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT? BY SIR E. BULWER LYTTON. inn nienstt CHAPTER IV. Guy Darrell’s views in the invitation to Waife Lrongx had but inadequately represented, for he could but imperfectly comprehend, the pro-

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December 18, 1858. ]

found impression made upon Guy Darrell by George Morley’s disclosures. Himself so capa- ble of self-sacrifice, Darrell was the man above all others to regard with an admiring reverence, which partook of awe, a self-immolation that seemed almost above humanity—to him who set so lofty an estimate on good name and fair repute. He had not only willingly permit- ted, but even urged Lionel to repair to Waife, and persuade the old man to come to Fawley. With Waife he was prepared to enter into the full discussion of Sophy’s alleged parentage. But apart even from considerations that touched a cause of perplexity which disquieted himself, Darrell was eager to see and to show homage to the sufferer, in whom he recognized a hero's dignity. And if he had sent by Lionel no let- ter from himse!s to Waife, it wax only because, in the exquisite delicacy of feelirg that belonged to him when his best emotions were aroused he felt it just that the whole merii, and the whole delight of reparation to the wrongs of William Losely, should, without direct interposition of his own, be left exclusively to Charles Haugh- ton’s son. Thus far it will be acknowledged that Guy Darrell was not one of those men who, once warmed to magnanimous impulse, are cooled by a thrifty prudence when action grows out of the impulse. Guy Darrell could not be generous by drachm and scruple. Not apt to say, ‘I apologize” —slow to say, “‘I repent ;” very—very—very slow indeed to say, “I for- give ;” yet let him once say, “I repent,” “I apologize,” or “I forgive,” and it was said with his whole heart and soul. But it must not be supposed that, in authoriz- ing Lionel to undertake the embassy to Waife, or in the anticipation of what might pass be- tween Waife and himself should the former consent to revisit the old house from which he had been so scernfully driven, Darrell had altered, or dreamed of altering, one iota of his resolves against a union between Lionel and Sophy. True, Lionel had induced him to say, “Could it be indisputably proved that no drop of Jasper Losely’s blood were in this girl’s veins —that she were the lawful child of honest par- ents, however humble—my right to stand be- tween her and yourself would cease.” But a lawyer’s experience is less credulous than a lover's hope. And to Darrell’s judgment it was wholly improbable that any honest parents, how- ever humble, should have yielded their child to a knave like Jasper, while it was so probable that his own persuasion was well-founded, and - she was Jasper’s daughter, though not Ma- tilda’s. The winter-evening had closed. George and Darrell were conversing in the library; the theme, of course, was Waife ; and Darrell list- ened with vivid interest to George’s graphic ac- counts of the old man’s gentle, playful humor —with its vague desultory under-currents of poetic fancy or subtle wisdom. But when George turned to speak of Sophy's endearing, lovely nature, and, though cautiously, to inti- mate an appeal on her behalf to Darrell’s sense of duty, or susceptibility to kindly emotions, the proud man’s brow became knit, and his stately air evinced displeasure. Fortunately, just at a moment when farther words might have led to a permanent coldness between men so disposed to esteem each other, they heard the sound of wheels on the frosty ground—the shrill bell at the porch-door.

CHAPTER V. The vagabond received in the Manor House at Fawley. Very lamely, very feebly, declining Lionel’s arm, but leaning heavily on his crutch-stick, Waife crossed the threshold of the Manor House. George sprang forward to welcome him. The old man looked on the preacher's face with a kind of wandering uncertainty in his eye, and George saw that his cheek was very much flushed. He limped on through the hall, still leaning on his staff, George and Lionel at either side. A pace or two, and there stood Darrell! Did he, the host, not spring forward to offer an arm, to extend a hand! No, such greeting in Darrell would have been but vulgar courtesy. As the old man’s eye rested on him, the superb gentle- man bowed low—bowed as we bow to kings! They entered the library. Darrell made a sign to George and Lionel. They understood the sign, and left visitor and host alone. Lionel drew George into the quaint old din- ing-hall. “I am very uneasy about our dear friend,” he said, in agitated accents. “I fear that I have had too little consideration for his years and his sensitive nature, and that, what with the excitement of the conversation that passed between us, and the fatigue of the jour- ney, his nerves have broken down. We were not half-way on the road, and as we had the rail- way carriage to ourselves, I was talking to him with impradent earnestness, when he began to tremble all over, and wen’ into a hysterical paroxysm of mingled tears and laughter. I wished to stop at the next station, but he was not long recovering, and insisted on coming on. Stull, as we approached Fawley, after muttering to himself, as far as I could catch his words, in- coherently, he sank into a heavy state of or stupor, resting his head on my auae was with difficulty I roused him when he en- tered the park.” “ Poor old man,” said George, feeli . doubt the quick succession of Guetlens Ricoh which he has lately passed has overcome him for the time. But the worst is now past. His interview with Darrell must cheer his heart and soothe his spirits; and that interview over, we must give him all repose and nursing, But tell me what passed between you—if he was very indignant that I could not saffer men like you and my uncle Alban, and Guy Darrell, to be- lieve him a pick-lock and a thief?”

Lionel began his narrative, but had not pro- ceeded far in it before Darrell’s voice was heard shouting loud and the library bell rang vio- lently, They hurried into the library, and Lionel’s fears were verified. Waife was in strong con- vulsions; and as these gradually ceased, and he rested without struggle, half on the floor, half in Darrell’s arms, he was evidently unconscious of all around him. His eye was open, but fixed in a glassy stare. The servants thronged into the room ; one was dispatched instantly to sum- mon the nearest medical practitioner. “Help me—George—Lionel,” said Darrell, “to bear him up stairs. Mills, light us.’’ When they reached the landing-place, Mills asked, ‘‘ Which room, Sir?” Darrell hesitated an instant, then his gray eye lit into its dark fire. “ My father’s room— he shall rest on my father’s bed.” When the surgeon arrived, he declared Waife to be in imminent danger—pressure on the brain. He prescribed prompt eo vigorous remedies, which had indeed before the surgeon’s arrival suggested themselves to, and been partly com- menced by, Darrell, who had gone through too many varieties of experience to be unversed in the rudiments of leechcraft. ‘If I were in my guest's state,” asked Darrell of the practitioner, ‘what would you do?” “ Telegraph instantly for Dr. F——.” ** Lionel—you hear? Take my own horse— he will carry you like the wind. Off to ****; it is the nearest telegraph station.” Darrell did not stir from Waife’s bedside all that anxious night. Dr. F- did not arrive till morning. He approved of all that had been done, but nevertheless altered the treatment ; and after staying some hours, said to Darrell, *T am compelled to leave you for the present ; nor could I be of use in staying. I have given all the aid in my power to Nature—we must leave the rest to renee herself. That fever— those fierce throes and spasms—are but Na- ture’s efforts to cast off the grasp of the enemy we do not see. It now depends on what degree of rallying power be left to the patient. For- tunately, his frame is robust, yet not plethoric. Do you know his habits?” “TI know,” answered George; ‘“‘ most tem- te, most innocent.”’ “ Then, with constant care, minute attention to my directions, he may recover.” “Tf care and attention can save my guest's life he shall not die,” said Darrell. The physician looked at the speaker's pale face and compressed lips. “ But, Mr. Darrell, I must not have you on my hands too. You must not be out of your bed again to-night.” “Certainly not,” said George. “I shall watch alone.” “No,” cried Lionel, ‘‘ that is my post, too.” “ Pooh!” said Darrell; “‘ young men so far from Death are not such watchful sentinels against his stroke as men of my years, who have seen him in all aspects; and, moreover, base indeed is the host who deserts his own guest’s sick-chamber. Fear not for me, doc- tor; no man needs sleep less than I do.” Dr. F slid his hand on Darrell’s pulse. “ Trregular — quick; but what vitality! what power!—a young man’s pulse! Mr. Darrell, many years for your country’s service are yet in these lusty beats.” Darrell breathed his chronic sigh, and, turn- ing back to Waife’s bedside, said, ‘‘ When will you come again?” “ The day after to-morrow.” When the doctor returned Waife was out of immediate danger. Nature, fortified by the ‘* temperate, inmocent habits” which husband up her powers, had dislodged, at least for a time, her enemy; but the attack was followed by extreme debility. It was clear that for days, perhaps even weeks to come, the vagrant must remain a prisoner under Darrell’s roof-tree. Lionel had been too mindful of Sophy’s anx- iety to neglect writing to Lady Montfort the day after Waife’s seizure. But he could not find the heart to state the old man’s danger; and with the sanguine tendencies of his young na- ture, even when at the worst, he clung to belief in the best. He refrained from any separate and private communication of Waife’s state to Lady Montfort, lest the sadness it would not fail to occasion her should be perceptible to So- phy, and lead her to divine the cause. So he contented himself with saying that Waife had accompanied him to Mr. Darrell’s, and would be detained there, treated with all kindness and honor, for some days. Sophy’s mind was relieved by this intelli- gence, but it filled her with wonder and conjec- ture. That Waife, who had so pertinaciously refused to break bread as a guest under any man's roof-tree, should be for days receiving the hospitality of Lionel Haughton’s wealthy and powerful kinsman, was indeed mysterious. But whatever brought Waife and Lionel thus in confidential intercourse could not but renew yet more viyidly the hopes she had been en- deavoring of late to stifle. And combining to- gether many desultory remembrances of words unawares from Lionel, from Lady Mont- fort, from Waife himself, the truth (of which her native acuteness had before admitted glimpses) grew almost clear to her» Was not Mr. Darrell that relation to her lost mother upon whom she had claims not hitherto conceded? Lionel and Waife both with that relation now! Surely the clouds that had rested on her future were ad- mitting the sun through their opening rents— and she blushed as she caught its ray.

CHAPTER VL. Individual concessions are like political ; when you once begin, there is no saying where you will stop. Waure’s first words on recovering conscious- ness were given to thoughts of Sophy. He had

HARPER'S WEEKLY.

promised her to return, at farthest, the next day; she would be so uncasy—he must get up —he must go at once. When he found his | strength would not suffer him to rise, he shed | tears. It was only very gradually, and at inter- vals, that he became acquainted with the length and severity of his attack, or fully sensible that he was in Darrell’s house; that that form, of which he had retained vague, dreamy reminis- cences, hanging over his pillow, wiping his brow, and soothing him with the sweetest tones of the sweet human voice—that that form, so genial, so brotherlike, was the man who had once com- manded him not to sully with his prese a stainless home. All that had passed within the last few days was finally made clear to him in a short, unwit- nessed, touching conversation with his host ; aft- er which, however, he became gradually worse ; his mind remaining clear, but extremely deject- ed; his bodily strength evidently sinking. Dr. F—— was again summoned in haste. That great physician was, as every great physician should be, a profound philosopher, though with a familiar ease of manner, and a light, off-hand vem of talk, which made the philosophy less sensible to the taste than any other ingredient in his pharmacopwia. Turning every body else out of the room, he examined his patient alone —sounded the old man’s vital organs, with ear and with stethoscope—talked to him now on his feelings, now on the news of the day, and then stepped out to Darrell. ‘**Something on the heart, my dear Sir; I can’t get atit; perhaps you can. Take off that something, and the springs will react, and my patient will soon recover. All about him sound as a rock—but the heart; that has been horri- bly worried; something worries it now. His heart may be seen in his eye. Watch his eye; it is missing some face it is accustomed to see.” Darrell changed color. He stole back into Waife’s room, and took the old man’s hand. Waife returned the pressure, and said, ‘*I was just praying for you—and—and—I am sinking fast. Do not let me die, Sir, without wishing poor Sophy a last good-by !” Darrell passed back to the landing-place, where George and Lionel were standing, while Dr. F was snatching a hasty refreshment in the library before his return to town. Darrell lal his hand on Lionel’s shoulder. ‘ Lionel, you must go back to London with Dr. F . I can not keep you here longer. I want your room.” “ Sir,” said Lionel, aghast, “ while Waife is still so il! You can not be thus unkind.” ‘Inconsiderate egotist! would you deprive the old man of a presence dearer to him than yours? George, you will go too; but you will return. You told me yesterday that your wife was in London for a few days; entreat her to accompany you hither; entreat her to bring with her the poor young lady whom my guest pines to see at his bedside—the face that his eye MISSES.

-_ _ CHAPTER VIL. Sophy, Darrell, and the Fiute-player. Darrell prepares a surprise for Walfe. Sorny is come. She has crossed that inex- orable threshold. She is a guest in the house which rejects her as a daughter. She has been there some days. Waife revived at the first sight of her tender face. He has left his bed; can move for some hours a day into an adjoining chamber, which has been hastily arranged fo his private sitting-room ; and can walk its floors with a step that grows daily firmer in the delight of leaning on Sophy’s arm. Since the girl's arrival, Darrell has relaxed his watch over the patient. He never now enters his guest’s apartment without previous notice ; and, by that incommunicable instinct which passes in households between one silent breast and another, as by a law equally strong to attract or repel—here drawing together, there keeping apart—though no rule in either case has been laid down—by virtue, I say, of that strange intelligence, Sophy is not in the old man’s room when Darrell enters. Rarely in the twenty- four hours do the host and the fair young guest encounter. But Darrell is aquick and keen ob server. He has seen enough of Sophy to be sensible of her charm — to penetrate into her simple, natural loveliness of character—to feel a deep interest in her, and a still deeper pity for Lionel. Secluding himself as much as possible in his private room, or in his leafless woods, his reveries increase in gloom. Nothing unbends his moody brow like Fairthorn’s flute or Fair- thorn’s familiar converse. It has been said before that Fairthorn knew his secrets. Fairthorn had idolized Caroline Lyndsay. Fairthorn was the only being in the world to whom Guy Darrell could speak of Car- oline Lyndsay—to whom he could own the un- conquerable but unforgiving love which had twice driven him from the social world. Even to Fair- thorn, of course, all could not be told. Darrell could not speak of the letter he had received at Malta, nor of Caroline’s visit to him at Fawley ; for to do so, even to Fairthorn, was like a trea- son to the dignity of the Beloved. And Guy Darrel! might rail at her ineonstancy—her heart- lessness ; but to boast that she had lowered her- self by the proffers that were dictated by repent- ance, Guy Darrell could not do that ;—he was a entleman. Still there was much left to say. e could own that he thought she would now accept his hand; and when Fairthorn looked happy at that thought, and hinted at excuses for her former ficklenes, it was a great relief to Darrell to fly into a rage; but if the flute- player meanly turned round and became him- self Caroline's accuser, then poor Fairthorn was indeed frightened, for Darrell’s trembling lip or

with self-reproach, and seat him sidelong into one of his hidden coverts. But at this moment Fairthorn was a support to him under other trials—Fairthorn, who re- spects as he does, as no one else ever can, the sanctity of the Darrell line—who would shrink like himself from the thought that the daughter of Jasper Losely, and in all probability not a daughter of Matilda Darrell, should ever be mis- tress of that ancestral hail, lowly and obscure and mouldering thoagh it be—and that the child of a sharper, a thief, a midnight assassin, should earry on the lineage of knights and warriors in whose stainless scutcheons. on many a Gothic tomb or over the portals of ruined castles, was impaled the heraldry of Brides sprung from the loins of Lion Kings! Darrell, then, doing fall justice to all Sophy’s beauty and grace, purity and goodness, was more and more tortured by the conviction that she could never be wife to the man on whom, for want of all nearer kin- dred, would devolve the heritage of the Darrel) name. On the other hand, Sophy’s feelings toward her host were almost equally painful and im- bittered. The tenderness and reverence that he had showed to her beloved grandfather, the af- fecting gratitude with which Waife spoke of him, necessarily deepened her prepossessions in his favor as Lionel’s kinsman; and though she saw him so sparingiy, still, wen they did meet, she had no right to complain of his manner. It might be distant, taciturn; but it was gentile, courteous—the manner which might be expect- ed, in a host of secluded habits, to a young guest from whose sympathies he was removed by years, but to whose comforts he was unobtr usively con- siderate — whose wishes were delicately fore- stalled. Yet was this all that her imagination had dared to picture on entering those gray walls? Where was the evidence of the relation- ship of which she had dreamed ?—where a single sign that she was more in that house than a mere guest ?—where, alas! a token that even Lionc? had named her to his kinsman, and that for Lionel’s sake that kinsman bade her welcome ? And Lionel too—gone the very day before she arrived! That she learned incidentally from the servant who showed her into her room. Gone, and not addressed a line to herself, though but to condole with her on her grandfather's ill ness, or congratulate her that the illness had spared the life! She felt wounded to the very core. As Waife’s progressive restoration al- lowed her thoughts more to revert to so many causes for pain and perpiexity, the mystery of all connected with her own and Waife’s sojourn under that roof baffled her attempts at conject- ure. The old man did not volunteer explana- tions. Timidly she questioned him; but his nerves yet were so unstrung, and her questions so evidently harassed him, that she only once made that attempt to satisfy her own bewilder- ment, and smiled as if contented when be said, after a long pause, “ Patience yet, my child; let me get a little stronger. You see Mr. Darrell will not suffer me to talk with him on matters that must be discussed with him before I go; and then—and then—Patience till then, Sophy.” Neither George nor his wife gave her any clew to the inquiries that preyed upon her mind. The latter, a kind, excellent woman, meekly devoted to her husband, either was, or affected to be, in ignorance of the causes that had led Waife to Fawiey, save very generally that Darrell had once wronged him by an erring judgment, and had hastened to efface that wrong. And then she kissed Sophy fondly, and told her that bright- er days were in store for the old man and her- self. George said, with more authority—the authority of the priest—“ Ask no questions. Time, that solves all riddles, is hurrying on, and Heaven directs its movements.” Her very heart was shut up, except where it could gush forth—nor even then with fall tide —in letters to Lady Montfort... Caroline had heard from George’s wife, with intense emotion, that Sophy was summoned to Darrell’s house, the gravity of Waife’s illness being considerate- ly suppressed. Lady Montfort could but sup pose that Darrell’s convictions had been shaken —his resolutions softened; that he sought an excuse to see Sophy, and judge of her himself. Under this impression, in parting with her young charge, Caroline besought Sophy to write to her constantly, and frankly. Sophy felt an inex- wessible relief in this correspondence. But Pady Montfort in her replies wae not more communicative than Waife or the Morieys, only she seemed more thoughtfully anxious that Sophy should devote herself to the task of pro pitiating her host's affections. She urged her to try and break through his reserve—see more of him ; as if that were possible! And her letters were more filled with questions about Darrell! than even with admonitions and scothings to Sophy. The letters that arrived at Fawley were brought in a bag, which Darrell opened ; but Sophy noticed that it was with a peculiar compression of lip, and a marked change of col- or, that he had noticed the handwriting on Lady Montfort’s first letter to her, and that after thar first time her letters were not inclosed in the bag, but came apart, and were never again givea to her by her host. Thus passed days ia which Sophy’s time was spent chiefly in Waife's sick-room. But now he is regaining etrength hourly. ‘To his sitting room comes Veorge frequent}y to relieve Sophy ’s watch. There, once a day, comes Guy Darrell, and what then passed between the two men none witnessed, In these hours Waife insisted upon Sophy’s going forth for air and exercise. She is glad to steal out alone—steal down by the banks of the calm lake, or into the gloom of the mournful woods, Here she not unfre quently encounters Fairthorn, who, having tak- en more than ever to the flute, is driven more than ever to outdoor rambles; for he has been

melancholy manner overwhelmed the assailant

Page 14

— eantioned not t re in his melodious re- 5 I i t he disturb the patient. Fairthorn a iy thus made acquaintance, a ml s! first on both sides; but it id yi I e frank aud cordial. Fair thorn had an t not altogether friendly in en ret macy He thought, poor | J ed to extract from m that : mudd ft eual Sophy son ions of her early life, which td elucidate, not in favor of her asserted claims, the m t hung upon her parent- ace But had D imal Fairthorn be ts, 1m this hope he woul i have been disappoint sd. Sophy had nothing t Her ingenuousness utterly baf or ail equaiy communicate, n the astutest | fled the poor flute-play Out of an innocent, unconscions kind of spite, on ceasing to pry into Sophy’s descent, he began to enlarge upon the dignity of Darrell’s. He inflicted on her | the long-winded icalogical memoir, the re- cital of which had, on a previous occasion, so nearly driven L ‘| Haughton from Fawley. He took } s I untiquary’s grave; he anaienim teal tin tood there, of Darrell’s ambitious | iis arid, laborious man I j sd } ion to restore the fallen lit had made to the father | I 1 so i red, He sought to im- pres h ‘jonsness that she was the g i 10 red to a race with whom s v was @ie all in all; and who had gone through hfe witl itter sorrows, but rever- @icing that race, and vindicating that honor: Fairthorn’s eye would tremble—his eyes flash | on her while talked, She, poor child, could not divine why: bat she felt that he wa sh } $ angry with her—speahiny at he In fact, Fairthorn’s prickly t nzue was on the barbed point of ex- claiming, ** And vy dare you foist yourself int tii uusul lincage! how dare you think that t dead would not turn in their graves ere they would make room in the vault of the Darrells for the daughter of a Jasper Losely!” Bat though she could not conceive the musician’s covert meaning in these heraldic discourses, Sophy, with a justness of discrimiua- tion that must have been intuitive, separated from the more fantastic declamations of the grotesque genealogist that which was genuine and pathetic in the single image of the last de- scendant in a long and gradually-falling race, lifting it up once more into power and note on toiling shoulders, and standing on the verge of age, with the melancholy consciousness that the effort was successful only for his fleeting life ; that, with all his gold, with all his fame, che hope which had achieved alike the gold and the fame was a lying mockery, and that name and race would perish with himself, when the earth yawned for him beside the antiquary’s grave. ‘And these recitals made her conceive a more soft and tender interest in Gay Darrell than she had before admitted; they accounted for the mournfulness ou his brow; they lessened her in- voluntary awe of that stateliness of bearing, which before had only chilled her as the evi- dence of pride : While Fairthorn and Sophy thus matured ac- juaintance, Darrell and Waife were drawing tloser and closer to cach other. Certainly no pne would be predisposed to suspect any con- geniality of taste, intellect, experience, or emo- jion, between two men whose lives had been so widely different—in whose faults or merits the ordinary observer would have seen nothing but antagonism and contrast. Unquestionably their characters were strikingly dissimilar, yet there was that in each which the other recognized as familiar to his own nature. Each had been the victim of his heart; each had passed over the plowshare of self-sacrifice. Darrell had offered up his youth—Waife his age ;—-Darrell to a Fa- ther and the nnrequiting Dead—Waife to a Son whose life had become his terror. Toone man, xame had been an idol; to the other, Nase had been a weed east away into the mire. To the one man, wnjoyous, evanescent glory—to the other, a shame that had been borne with a sport- ive cheerfulness, dashed into sorrow only when the world’s contamely threatened to despoil Af- fection of its food. But there was something akin in their joint experience of earthly vani- ties ;-—so little solace in worldly honors to the triumphant Orator—so little of misery to the vagrant Mime while his conscience mutely ap- pealed to Heaven from the verdict of his kind. And as beneath all the levity and whim of the man reared and nurtured, and fitted by his char- acteristic tendencies, to view life through its humors, not throngh its passions, there still ran a deep under-current of grave and earnest in- tellect and feeling—so too, amidst the severer and statelier texture of the onee ambitious, la- horious mind, which had conducted Darrell to renown—amidst all that gathered-up intensity of passion, «hich admitted no comedy into Sor- row, and saw in Love but the aspect of Fate— amidst all this iofty seriousness of soul, there was yet a vivid capacity of enjoyment—those fine sensibilities to the pleasurable sun-rays of life, whieh are constitutional to all Genius, no matier how grave its vocations. True, affliction at last may duli them, as it dulls all else that we took from Nature when she equipped us for life. Yet, in the mind of Darrell, affliction had shattered the things most gravely coveted, even more than it had marred its perceptive acknowl- edgment of the sympathies between fancies that move to smiles, and thoughts that bequeath solemn lessons, or melt to no idle tears. Had Darrell been placed amidst the circumstances that make happy the homes of earnest men, Darrell would have been mirthful; had Waife been placed among the circumstances that con- | centrate talent, and hedge round life with | trained thicksets and belting laurels, Waife | mild have been grave. Ii was not in the earlier conferences that took place in Waife’s apartment that the subject which had led the old man to Fawle) was | brought into discussion. When Wa'f> had sought to introduce it—Wwhen, afte Sopby’s arrival, he had looked wistfully inte Darrell’s face, striving to read there the impression she had ereated, and, unable to discover, had be- gun, with tremulous accents, to reopen the cause that weighed on him—Darrell stopped him atonce. *‘* Hush—not yet; remember that it was in the very moment you first broached this sorrowful topic, on arriving here, and per- ceived how different the point of view from which we two must regard it, that your nerves gave way—your illness rushed on you. Wait, not only till you are stronger, but till we know each other better. This subject is one that it becomes us to treat with all the strength of our reason—with all the calm which either can im- pose upon the feelings that ruffle judgment. | At present, talk we of all matters except that, which I promise you shall be fairly discussed at last,” Darrell found, however, that his most effect- ive diversion from the subject connected with Sophy was through another channel in the old man’s affections, hopes, and fears. George Morley, in repeating the conversation he had overheard between Waife and Jasper, had nat- urally, while clearing the father, somewhat soft- ened the bravado and cynicism of the son’s lan- guage, and more than somewhat brightened the touches cf natural feeling by which the bravado and cynicism had been alternated, And Dar- rell had sufficient magnanimity to conquer the repugnance with which he approached a name associated with so many dark and hateful mem- ories, and, avoiding as much as possible distinct reference to Jasper’s past life, to court a con- sultation on the chances of saving from the worst the life that yet remained. With whom else, indeed, than Jasper’s father could Darrell 80 properly and so unreservedly discuss a mat- ter in which their interest and their fear were in common ?—As though he were- rendering some compensation to Waife for the disappoint- ment he would experience when Suphy’s claims came to be discussed if he conld assist in re- lieving the old man’s mind as to the ultimate fate of the son for whom he had made so grand a sacrifice, Darrell spoke to Waife somewhat in detail of the views with which he had instruct- ed Colonel Morley to find out and to treat with Jasper. He heard from the Colonel aMhost daily. Alban had not yet discovered Jasper, nor even succeeded in tracing Mrs. Crane! But an account of Jasper’s wild farewell visit to that den of thieves, from which he had issued safe and triumphant, had reached the ears of a de- tective employed by the Colonel, and on tolera- bly good terms with Cutts; and it was no small comfort to know that Jasper had finally broken with those miscreant comrades, and had never again been seen in their haunts. As Arabella had introduced herself to Alban by her former name, and neither he nor Darrell was acquaint- ed with that she now bore, and as no questions on the subject could be put to Waife during the earlier stages of his illness, so it was several days before the Colonel had succeeded in trac- ing her out as Mrs. Crane of Podden Place—a discovery effected by a distant relation to whom he had been referred at the famous school of which Arabella had been the pride, and who was no doubt the owner of those sheepskin ac- count-books by which the poor grim woman had once vainly sought to bribe Jasper into honest work. But the house in Podden Place was shut up—not a soul in charge of it. The houses immediately adjoining it were tenantless. The Colonel learned, however, from a female serv- ant in an opposite house, that several days ago she had seen a tall, powerful-looking man enter Mrs. Crane’s street-door; that she had not seen him quit it; that some evenings afterward, as this servant was closing up the house in which she served, she had remarked a large private carriage driving away from Mrs. Crane’s door; that it was too dark to see who were in the car- riage, but she had noticed a woman whom she felt fully sure was Mrs. Crane’s servant, Brid- rett Greggs, on the box beside the coachman. Alban had been to the agent employed by Mrs. Crane in the letting of her houses, but had not there gained any information. The Colonel believed that Mrs. Crane had succeeded in re- moving Jasper from London— had, perhaps, accompanied him abroad. If with her, at all events, for the present, he was safe from the stings of want, and with one who had sworn to save him from his own guilty self. If, however, still in England, Alban had no doubt, sconer or later, to hunt him up. Upon the whole, this conjectural information, though unsatisfactory, allayed much anxiety. Darrell made the most of it in his representa- tions to Waife. And the old man, as we know, was one not hard to comfort, never quarreling irrevocably with Hope. And now Waife is rapidly recovering. Dar- rell, ‘after spending the greater part of several days, intent upon a kind of study from which he had been estranged for many years, takes to frequent absences for the whole day; goes up to London by the earliest train, comes back by the latest. George Morley also goes to London for a few hours. Darrell, on returning, does not allude to the business which took him to the metropolis; neither does Géorge, but the latter seems unusually animated and excited. At length, after one of these excursions, so foreign to his habits, he and George enter together the old man’s apartment not long before the early hour at which the convalescent retires to rest. Sophy was seated on the footstool at Waife’s knee, reading the Bible to him, his hand rest- ing lightly on her bended head. The sight touched both George and Darrell; but Darrell, of the two, was the more affected. What young, | pure voice shall read to him the Book of Hope HARPER'S WEEKLY. [December in the evening of lonely age? Sophy started in some confusion, and as, in quitting the room, she passed by }arrell, he took her hand gently, and scanned her features more deliberately, more earncstly than he had ever yet seemed to do; then he sighed, and dropped the hand, murmuring, “Pardon me.” Was he seeking to read in that fair face some likeness to the Dar- rell lineaments? If he had found it, what then ? But when Sophy was gone, Darrell came straight to Waife with » cheerful brow—with a kind- ling eye. “‘ William Lovely,” said he. “Waife, if you ; lease, Sir,” interrupted the old man. ‘* William lowseiy,’ repeated Darrell, “ jus- tice seeks to repair, so far as, alas! it now can, the wrongs inflicted .on the name of William | Losely. Your olu friend Alban Morley supply- | ing me with the notes he had made in the mat- ter of your trial, I arrunged the evidence they furnished. The Seercta: y for the Home Depart- ment is one of my most intimate political friends —v man of humanity—of sense. I placed that evidence before him. I, George, and Mr. Har- topp—saw him after he had perused it—” ** My—son—Lizzy’s son!” ** His secret will be kept. The question was not who committed the act for which you suf- fered, but whether you were clearly, incontesta- bly innocent of the act, and, in pleading guilty, did but sublimely bear the penalty of another. There will be no new trial—there are none who would proseente. I bring back to you the Queen’s free pardon under the Great Seal. I should explain to you that this form of the roy- al grace is so rare’y given that it needed all the | strength and affecting circumstance of your pe- culiar case to justify the Home Secretary in list- ening, not only to the interest I could bring to bear in your favur, but to his own humane in- clinations. The pardon under the Gréat Seal differs from an crdinary pardon. It purges the blood from the taint of felony —it remits all the civil disabilities which the mere expiry of a penal sentence does not remove. In short, as applicable to vour case, it becomes virtually a complete and formal attestation of your inno- cence. Alban Moriey will take care to apprise those of your oi friends who may yet survive of that revocation of unjust obloquy which this royal deed implies-—Alban Morley, who would turn his back on a prince of the blood if but guilty of some jockey trick on the turf! Live henceforth operly, and in broad daylight, if you please ; and trust to us three—the Soldier, the Lawyer, the Churchman—to give to this paper that value which your Sovereign's advisers in- tend it to receive.” **Your hand now, dear old friend!” cried George. “You remember I commanded you once to take mine as man and gentleman; as man and gentleman now honor me with yours.” **Is it possible ?” faltered Waife, one hand in George's, the other extended in imploring ap- peal to Darrell—* is it possible? I vindicated —I cleared—and yet no felgn’s dock for Jasper! —the son not criminated by the father’s acquit- tal! ‘Tell me that! again—again !” “It is so, believe me. All that rests is to force on that son, if he have a human heart, the conviction that he will be worse than a parricide if he will not save himself.” ““ And he will—he shall! Oh that I could but get at him!” exclaimed the preacher. * And now,” said Darrell—‘now, George, leave us; for now, upon equal terms, we two fathers can discuss family differences.” ADVERTISEMENTS. The following Extracts from a few of many Testimo- nials giving evidence of the efficiency of BROWN’S BRONCHIAL TROCHES, OR COUGH LOZENGES, may be read with interest by PUBLIC SPEAKERS, SINGERS, and others, requiring the same article. From Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, who has used the Troches five years, —*1 have never changed my mind respecting them from the first, except to think yet better of that which I began in thinking well of I do not hesitate to say that in so far as I have had an opportuni- ty of comparison, your Troeches are pre-eminently the best, and the first of the great Lozenge School.” From Rev. E. H. Chapin, D.D., New York.—**I con- sider your Lozenges an excellent article for their pur- poses, and recommend their use to Public Speakers." From Mr. C. H. Gardner, Principal af the Rutger's Female Institute, New York.—“I have been afflicted with Bronchitis daring the past winter, snd found no re- lief until 1 found your Troonrs.” SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS. 2) 2 SPLENDORS. MAGNIFICENT FUKS, Royal ermine, sable, mink, marten, fitch, chinchilla, &c,, CUT and MADE UP IN PARIS, AND UNEQUALED OUT OF FRANCE, At GENIN'S NEW FUR ROOM, St. Nicholas Hotel, No. 50T Broadway. SUPERB PIANOS AT THE LOWEST PRICES.—H. E. MATHEWS, 206 Fulton Street, Brooklyn, and 419 Broadway, N. Y. Purchasers will prove it to their interest to call and see my instruments. [¥ Brooklyn people specially are notified. HOLIDAY SUPPLEMENT TO HARPER'S WEEKLY. We have now ready our First Annual HOLIDAY SUPPLEMENT, which is printed on Superfine Paper, and filled with En- gravings of the most elegant description. Terms same as those of Harper's WEEKtY HARPER & BROTHERS, Franklin Square, \. Y. 18, (1858. ; A GREAT REDUCTION IN PRICES, G. M. BODINE, 481 BROADWAY. ELEGANT FALL AND WINTER DRY GOODS. RICH SILKS AND SHAWLS, FINE FRENCH MERINOS, PARIS PRINTED DELAINES, PARIS EMBROIDERIES, And a Complete Stock of Housekeeping Geods. AU of the above Goods have been reduced from 30 to 40 per Cent. Observe the Number, HOLIDAY NOTICE. TIFFANY & CO., No. 550 Broadway, Claim for their entire stock, in comparison with any oth- er in this country, superiority for its extent, quality, and beauty; and further, that their prices are as low as those of any other house. They would especially enumerate Diamonds, AND OTHER PRECIOUS STONES, PEARLS, AND FINE JEWELRY. "al J . T Silver Ware, Guaranteed of English Sterling (925-1000 pure), the standard decreed by metallurgists, the best possible for durability and beauty ; Watches, Of all the best makers. (They are the only agents in New York for the sale of Charles Frodsham's Watches, conceded to be the best pocket time pieces ever made.) Bronze Statues and Vases, French Clocks, English Plated Ware, and many Vari- eties of Fancy Goods. The Prices of all Articles marked in Plain Figures the FURS!! F. BOOSS, IMPORTER AND MANUFACTURER OF ” FURS OF EVERY DESCRIPTION, AT 44 MAIDEN LANE, Invites the attention of LADIES To his extensive and elegant assortment of all kinds of EUROPBAN AND AMERICAN FURS, CONSISTING OF SABLE, MINK, ERMINE, STONE MARTIN, FITCH, SIB. SQUIRREL, &c., &e. + G. GUNTHER & SONS, e By inviting the attention of their friends and the public to their usual extensive and rich assortment of LADIES’ FURS which they are offering to the RETAIL TRADE, would also announce that they have reduced their retail rates, and are selling their stock at very advantageous prices, comparing favorably with those of the last season. Our assortment at present is very complete, compris- ing all the leading and desirable styles now in demand, and manufactured expressly for retail eustom. Our patterns in the finer class of goods, particularly in RUSSIAN AND HUDSON BAY SABLES, Are exceedingly choice and elegant, and the qualities of fur the finest ever had by us in store. We solicit inspection. Cc. G. GUNTHER & SONS, 46 Maiden Lane. HOBBIE HORSES, LEIGHS, SLEDS, SKATES, TOOL CHESTS, GO-CARTS, CABS, CARRIAGES, and Every Description of CHILDREN'S VEHICLES, at the Lowest Prices, at BERRIAN'S, 601 Broadway. — PATENT » ARPET SWEEPERS, ALL THE BEST MAKERS, At Manufacturer's Prices, at BERRIAN’S, 601 Broadway. SHEFFIELD PLATED WARE. 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zk rom y oth- , and those e for — lthe of ould ates, ices, pris- and, ly in ities

Decemser 1 18, , 1858. J HARPER'S WEEKLY.

oa & n Zw a a = e 7 © ~ ~- . READ WHAT VILLAGI BLACKSMITH. Is SAID OF THE

66 [HE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.” — This truly elegant Steel Engraving, which is sent tu every subscriber of the Cosmopolitan Art Associ- ation (for $3, together with Art Journal, &c.), is a large first-class picture, after Herring's great Painting, and printed on heavy plate paper, 30x38 inches, and gent on wood rollers, pre-paid, te amy part of the country. Its subject combines many beauties, as will be inferred from the following notice by the art critic of the New York Express: “THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH represents the in- terior of a smithy, and the smith in the act of shoeing a large white horse, with the right forefoot between his knees. Just as his pincers are fairly hold of the shoe, his attention is diverted by a musical footstep; and, while only ualf seeing, he seems to feel the smiling pres ence of his wife, who stands close at his side, with the dinner-basket on herarm. A full-blooded hound in the foreground, absorbed in the operation upon the horse, is another living figure in the picture—a group of four—a horse, one of the finest we have ever seen on canvass, a man, who is every inch a man, reminding one of Long- fellow's lines : *The smith, a stalwart man was he,’ &c., —& woman who comes in with her ‘good cheer,’ like a blessing, reminding one of Wood worth’s *—— Creature not too bright and good For human nature's daily food,’ —and a noble hound, marvelously foreshortened, re minding of Sir Walter Scott, with his hantseman and horns. It is a masterpiece, and we can not contemplate it long without falling in love, at least, with the woms

the magnificent beauty of the animal. ‘My kingdom for a horse'—like that, and for such a sousie wife, we would give our heart and life From Over Ong Tuovsanp notices from every sec- tion of the country, come the following opinions of the engraving : “ Eliciting universal admiration." “It is cheap at fire dollars “ {Same paper “ A splendid picture." [Boston Px “Equal to any specimen of art ever produced in “the [Bost. Tranecript. count (Baltimore American. 7 Doubly worth its price.” (Georgetown (Ky.) Joutmal, “ Magnificent affair.” (Pt. Tobaceo (Md.) Dimes. “Large and superb." (State Journal, Madison, Wis. “Ttisa ae oe » (Journal, Reading, Pa ** Splendid.” [Daily Palladium, Hs rtford, Conn. “*One of themost costly ever offered.’ “* Desirable for parlor and library.” {Alton (IIL) Telegraph. * Superior to any premium engraving heretofore of- fered. (Democrat, Taunton, Mam, “ Large and finely executed.’ (Pant., Bloomingten, Ill. “Could not be purehased elsewhere for $10. {Sodthern Guardian, Columbia, 8. C. In addition to the above superb Engraving, Ba! subscriber of $8 will receive the beautifully Art Journal aud certificate in the award of me Foy a: 4 Subscriptions received up to the evening of dan. Address C. 8. DERBY, Actuary C. A. A. See Next Conumn. o. 548 Broadway, New York. [ Troy Ww hig.

HE MOST SUPERB PRESENTATION BOOK PUBLISHED. WOMEN OF BEAUTY AND HEROISM. —From— Semiramis to Eugenic. A PORTRAIT GaALtearY or FEMALE LOVELINESS, ACHIEVEMENT, AND IN- FLUENCE. With Nineteen Fine Steel Engravings. By Prank B. Goodrich, Author of *‘ The Court of Napoleon.” One elegant 4to volume. Turkey Antique, or Turkey full gilt. Price $12 50. LIST OF PORTRAITS. 1. Semiramis. 10. Mary, Queen of Scota, 2. Penelope. 11. Pocahontas. 3. Cornelia. 12. Nell Gwynne. 4. Zenobia. 13. Lady Montague. 5. Beatrice. 14. Marie Antoinette. 6. Joan D’ Are. 15. Maid of Saragossa. 7. Isabella. 16. Anne Hazletine Judson. 8. Diana de Poitiers. 17. Charlotte Bronte. 9. Anne Boleyn. 18. Victoria. 19. Kugenie. This elegant book is printed from a new font of pica type, cast purposely for it, upon extra size calendered paper, made to order, and bound in real Turkey, in new and rich styles, by Somerville. The Portraits are from drawings by Champagne and Wandesford — most of them authentic copies —and en- graved on steel in the highest style of art, by Hall, Hal- pin, Hollyer, Jackman, and a rs. DERBY & J ACKSON, PUBLISHERS, No. 119 Nassau Street, New York, And for sale by the principal Booksellers. Sent by express, free of expense, on receipt of the price. OLIDAY PRESENTS. THE CHAMPION 8E WING MACHINE ONLY $5. The greatest invention of the age—a practical Family Sewing Machine for $5. Office 385 Broadway, N. Y. S! NGER’S SEWING MACHINES. The great reduction in the price of these indispensab!s machines has brought a rush of customers. Though the prices have been put down, the machines are made bet ter than ever. Now is the time to buy. 1. M. SINGER & CO., 458 Broadway, New York.

XPERIE} NCED A AGEN’ rs W ANTED IN all parts of the country to obtain Subscribers for “ LOSSING'S PICTORIAL FIELD-BOOK OF THE REVOLUTION,” in Two Volumes Koyal Octavo, con- taining upward of 1500 pages, and 1100 beautifal illustra- tions. This work will be sold exclusively by Agents, to each of whom a special District will be given. Rare in- ducements offered. Applicants should name the Coun- ties they would prefer. For full particulars address GEO. W. ELLIOTT, care HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. BEAUTIFULLY COSMOPOLITAN ART JOURNATI

HE ART JOURNAL. — This superbly beautiful Magazine, which every subscriber in the COSMOPOLITAN ART ASSOCIATION gets GRATIS, in addition to the Engraving “VILLAGE BLACK- SMITH,” is one of the moet clegant and valuable Mag- azines published. It contains over 70 large pages of choice articles, costly Steel Engravings, and numerous Mlustrations. Among the innumerabie notices from the Press coufirming the above statement, the following will suffice : “Jt fully maintains its high character as a record of art and literature. Its typography and illustrations are admirable." liarper’s Magazine. “The best and cheapest publication of the kind ex- tant.” Boston Post. “ Deserves a large patronage." Baptist Recorder. “ Splendid affair.” Citizen, Ithaca, N. ¥ “We particularly call attention to its reading matter,” Godey. “Its excellences have made it famous.” [Standard, Gloversville, N. Y. “ Worth the whole subscription.’ Baltimore Clipper “ How so valuable a work can be afforded at so mod erate a price isa mystery.” [l'atriot, Concord, N. H “In every respect a perfect gem Der [ nocrat, Greenfield, Mass “ Magnificent quarter! wi M letow ( 1 “*One of the most recherche.” N. O. Delta * Articles choice; engravings supert ‘ rowanda, Pa “ Popular throughout the world (News, Darien, Wia ** Merits of the first order.” Herald, Chester, Ill. “Of itself worth three dollars Very high order of merit.” ** Maintains a high character ** All lovers of art should have it “No magazine surpasses it." (lowa City Republican Such expressions prove what is claimed for it he Association submits its claims to the public, confident that they will command a wide-spread patronage. All subscriptions to the Association received previous to the evening of January 1, 1559, will be in time Address ©. & DERBY, Actuary ©. A. A., No, 548 Broadway, New York ~ HOLIDAY TRADE. FRENCH AND ENGLISH CHINA, GLASS, & DAVIS COLLAMOBE.& CO., 447 BROADWAY, above Street, Are now opening NEW GOODS, consisting of ANTIQUE VASES, JUGS, &c PARIAN STATUETTES, Vanes with Raised Flow- ers, &c. COLORED BISQUE STATUETTES, &c RICH TEA SETS, Oriental Form. WEDGWOOD WARE CUT AND ENGRAVED GLASS, DINING SETS TETE A TETE SETS SILVER PLATED WARE Together wit): a complete assortment of unique and beautiful articles. DAVIS COLLAMORE & CO., 447 Broadway, above Canal Street Frolic Master for Every llousshold. THE SOCIABLE; Or, One Thousand and One Liome Amusements Containing Acting Proverbs, Dramatic Charades, Acting Charades, or Drawing-;oom Pantomimes, Musical Bur- lesque., Tableaux Vivants, Marlor Games, Games of Action, Forfeits, in Sport and Parlier M and a Choice Collection of Curious Mental and @hadical Puzzles, &c. ILLUSTRATED WITH NEARLY 300 ENGRAVINGS AND DIAGRAMS. The whole being a fund of never-ending entertain- ment. By the author of “ The Magician's Own Book.” Nearly 400 pages, 12mo. Price, cloth, gilt side stamp, $1 00. It is impossible for any company to exhanst all the sources of irreproachable mirth, and mutual enjoyment, produced in this volume. Published by DICK & FITZGERALD, No. 15 Ann Street, N. Y. Also, for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of the above book sent by mail, to any address, free of postage, on receipt of One Dollar GREAT EXHIBITION CHRISTMAS GIFTS, Now open at R. DIESELDORFF & CO’S., ‘HOSIERY, UNDER-GARMENTS,

691 Broadway.

MENS FURNISHING GOODS. A great assortment of BEST GOODS at LOWEST PRICES, at RANEIN’S No, 06 Bowery, New York. me RIFIE S THE BLOOD. ‘B. F. Williams's Compound Syrup of Sarsaparilla and Iodide of Potassium" is a popular remedy for Serof ula, Tetter, Ringworm, Blotches on the Face, Intlamma- tion of the Kidneys, Leucorrhawa, and like afiiictions— cures Rheumatiem. I have now the control of this prep- aration, and putting it up in handsome style. Physi- cians prescribe it because they are shown the recipe NaTonez, Mise. WM. H, FOXe LLIOT & PATTEN—Examine Inventions and procure American and Foreign Patenta. Pat- ent Agency opposite main entrance of Patent Office Building, Washington City, D. C.

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cL. P. BRAY & DADCHIY, Agt LANUPACTURERS, No. 41 MAII N LAN ry We Manufacture and Pat own W and are thus enabled to offer = ents bot! regard t pa Quality and Price, as can + } asec-d Our ¢ “ tron of Articles suitabic t Holidays ¢ ’ y display we have ever » I Cotte Tea, and Hot Water Ur . To them, together with pecial notice Liquor, or Conmlial Stands: Ma rer y and « gar Stands, with Thermer fr attached; M ‘ and Eyg Stands combined mplete, w ‘ Spoons; Fillagree Card . Basket Ww phons; Champene and Hock b ¢ Holders; New French 3 and 4 Ring Break ant « s, &e., & MORE HE. AD'S MAGNETIC PLASTER. THE GREAT STRENGTHI NER AND PAIN-DESTROYER If you put I . if pain ts there, the Plast i pain has vanisl The Plaster 1 “ t nm away a PAIN. . 4D NOT EXIST WHEKE THIS PLASTER 18 APPLIED Price 25 cents a | Sold by all Druggists i nd country « ptt teases FOR GRECIAN AND ANTI E PAINTING AR ’ Li ” rit iN co Ww tr Who forward t | | rections | and other informati : Dealers and Teacher ppliec M FINKLE'S CLASS SHUTTLE SEWING MACHINES, UNRIVALED FIRSI ‘21 BROADWAY SPLENDID NEW JUVENILE, BY MARY HOWITT, FOR CHRISTMAS. JACK AND HARRY Os, PICTURES FOR THE YOUNG Elegantly “ey ted on trated, said to THE HANDSOMEST AMERICAN JUVENILE ever published Parte ONE DOLLAR. Published by J. E. TILTON & CO., Boston Tinted Paper, and richly lus A HOLIDAY SONG AN APPEAL TO MANHOOD. lone Yankee Doodle.” Fathers, sons and brothers al) Weuld you do wr duty’ Would you save our precious lives And help presers« r beaut Buy us then a new Machine, ime 4 iT sewing One of Grover & Baker's make, It is the best one going Would you like our faces bright At 4 sunny morning? Would y see the rose of health The cheeks vou love adorning? uy us then a new Machine, tin t a our eewin One of G ner & Bane a ake, It is the best ape going Wovld yeu have the forms you love Rivaling the graces? Heip to make the labor light, For cere will leave ite traces Buy us then a new Machine Une t ‘ sewing oO Grover & Baker's make, It is © best oF roing Now tet each lo bia pa To make h n bom ny Don't think ‘ | accom} t is wi ta ' y. I buy at of a new Machir oO nev , ‘ ‘ ve Lakers make tt is the best one going Offices of Fxhibition and Sale—495 Broadway, New York 18 Summer Street, Boston. 130 Cheeta it Street, Philadelphia. 137 Baltimore Street, Baltimore, 58 West Fourth Street, Cincinnati HOSIERY MEN’S FUR NISHING UNION ADAMS 637 BROADWAY, FOUR DOORS BELOW BLERCKER STREPT, GOODS.

Respectfuliy invites r attent to an extensive and supertor variety of the above goods, many styles of which can not be f “i « Importi ‘ r er fler s perior induc The pr ; ! 1 figures and all ¢ id ' “ ! may be re tort a ertull (CHAFFED HANDS, CHAPPED LIPS, 1IIEGEMAN & OO.°8 Cam phor lee « ‘ ‘ (heap, raf nd agreeable HEGEMAN & CO., Dra a, 165, 2 Sil, aad 756 Broadway *¢ASHION AB LE rd Engravers and Wed ding = Jewelry, Fine V ches, Ster ling Silver Ware } from the Country eolicited DEMPSEY & FARUIS, 6060 Broadway, N. Y GANDS' SARSAPARILL A _ \ For t re « ioe sing fror impure ‘ bleed or habit of the syeter As an altera- tive, mild aperient and renovating agent it is unequaled. Prepared and sold by A. B. & D. SANDS, Druggists, 100 Fulton Street, New York.

Page 16

} ' : , fF ’ : ' ia if ia | ' | ' / 1 — ~ —_— ee - | Mr. BopKiys baits his night-lines over-night with some fine lively Frogs, The Qvaker, justly lignant at the adoption by the public of his peculiar hat, invert 1 new one, which he fiatters himself will defy HARPER'S WEEKLY. ing that they object to become food for Fishes. nday heat, need never be at a loss to find rest and refreshment; stretched upon the softest and cleanest of y-tlavored tea, inhaling through a short pipe the fragrant tobacco of Japan, he resigns himself to the ministrations a bevy of fair damsels, who glide rapidly and noiselessly about, the most zealous and skilfull of attendants.”— From a Letter from Japan. —AND BY ALL ADVERTISEMENTS. bbe GREAT FAMILY PAPER! (HE GREAT FAMILY PAPER! '11—E GREAT FAMILY PAPER! rHE GREAT FAMILY PAPER! rHE GREAT FAMILY PAPER! THE GREAT FAMILY PAPER! PROSPECTUS POR THE YEAR 1859. NEW YORK LEDGER is grat- he Proprietor of t fied at having it ip his power to announce ir his Pros- for the new year—1850—that all the old popular and eminent writers of the LEDGER staff have been re- tained, and new ones added. Among the latter we are sed to mention the name of the H } EDWARD EVERI TT, who is to furnish a series of articles, to be ed during the entire year, under the title of rHE MOUNT VERNON PAPERS.” For these ar- ticles alone we have already paid Mr, Everett (for the benefit of the Ladies’ Mount Veruon Association) the 8 f TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. udication of the popularity of the LEDGER, state the simple fact that its circulation is er than that of any othe LEN literary papers in the Its great success is owing gt » the facts that its prietor secures the best writers in the country, and ares no expense in getting up the BEST FAMILY & paper of h The exalted eputation of its contributors, the practical and in- variably 7 igh moral tone and healthy character of all its articlea the care which is taken that not even one offensive word shall appear in its columns, and the superiority of its tales aud sketches, have gained for the NEW YORK LELGER a position that no literary paper has ever be- fore reached. We feel, and always have felt, since the LEDGER attained its immense circulation, that a heavy responsibility rests upon us, and have endeavored to dis- charge that responsibility conscientiously, feeling conii- dent that ultimately we should receive the thanks of thousands and tens of thousands of families. As to the future, we are at a loss what to say. We prefer to renrorm rather than to Promise What we have heretofore done is known to our readers; they know what the LEDGER has been, and is now, and must therefrom judge what it will be hereafter. We can only ay that among the regular contributors to the LEDGER are GEORGE D. PRENTICE, FANNY FERN, JOHN G. SAXE, MRS. SIGOURNEY, SYLVANUS COBB, Jz., MRS. SOUTHWORTH, EMERSON BENNETT, ALICE CAREY, T. 8. ARTHUR, EMMA ALICE BROWNE WM. ROSS WALLACE, SALLIE M. BRYAN, CARLOS D, STUART, MARY STANLEY GIB- SON, COL. W. B. DUNLAP, AUGUSTA MOORE, and many eminent Lawyers, Clergymen, Professors in Colleges, and others, who write for the LEDGER anony- mously; and that our complete arrangements are such that the current expenses of the LEDGER are now and will constantly be at the rate of over three hundred thou- sand dollars per annum. FACTS like these carry with them more weight than any comments that could be made, and comments will therefore be dispensed with. As we have already inti- mated, we shall leave promising to those who prefer to expend their force in that way, and content ourselves with doing what we can to make the LEDGER the most interesting aud instructive FAMILY PAPER in the world, MEANS LET US HAVE JAPANESE MaNnNeRS AND CUSTOMS HERE. THE NEW YORK LEDGER is published every Sat- urday, and sold at all the news-offices in every city and town throughout the country, and is mailed t ers at two dollars per annum; two copies are sent for subserib- three dollars. Any person obtaining cight subscribers at $1 50 each (which is our lowest Club rates), and sending us $12, will be entitled to one copy free. Te riably in advance. rms inva- (#” The postage on the Lepore to any part of the United States, paid quarterly or yearly in advance at the office where it is received, ig only twenty-six cents a year. Canada subscribers mst each send us twenty-six cents in addition to the subseription price of the Lepcer to pay the American postage. (cy Subscribers must write their addresses, including the names of the place, county, and State in which they reside, in a plain hand, so as to avoid mistakes. ( No subscriptions are wanted from cities, large villages, or other places where news offices are perma- nently established. t# All communications must be addressed, postage paid, to ROBERT BONNER, Proprietor of the New York Ledger, No, 44 Ann Street, N. Y. N. B.—The number of the Lepcer dated January 1st, 1859, will be a good one for subscriptions to date from, as in that number the ‘MOUNT VERNON PAPERS,” by the HON. EDWARD EVERETT, will be commenced. Mr. Evgxett's articles will be copyrighted, so as to pre- vent publication in any other paper EO. B. SLOAT & CO., ELLIPTIC LOCK STITCH AND IMPROVED SHUTTLE SEWING MACHINES, THE-CHEAPEST AND BEST. C. W. THOMAS & CO., Agents, No. 480 Broadway. and finds in the mora- | [ Decewpen 18, 1858, | HARPER & BROTHERS, Franklin Square, New York, Have just Published : | CARLYLE’S FREDERICK Tut GREAT. History of Fried- rich the Second, called Freder- ick the Great. By Tomas Can- Lie. Author of *‘ History of the French Revolution,” “ Crom- well’s Letters and Speeches,” “Sartor Resartus," &e. 4 vols. Large 12mo, Muslin, $1 25 each. Vols. L. and I1., with Portraits and Maps, just ready THE HISTORY OF PROS- TITUTION : its Extent, Canus- es, and Effects throughout the World. (Being an O@icial Re- port to the Board of Alms-House Governors of the City of New York.) By Wriutam W. Sanco- ex, M. D., Resident Physician, Dlackwell's Island, New York City; Member of the American Association for the Advance- ment of Science; late one of the Physicians to the Marine Hos- pital, Quarantine, New York, &e., &c., &e. Svo, Muslin, $3 SELF-MADE MEN By C. Cc. B. Srymove Many Por- traits. 12mo. Muslin, $1 2. LADY LUDLOW. A Novel. By Mrs. Gasxe.., Au- thor of ** Mary Barton,” ** North and South,” “ Cranford,” ** The Moorland Cottage,” &e. Svyo, Paper, 12 cents. DR. THORNE A Novel By Antuony TRro.iiopg, Author of *Barchester Towers,” &c. 12mo, Muslin, $1 00 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. By Madame de B——. i2mo, Muslin, $1 00 4 tad *.* Harres & Brorurns will i either of the above Works by Mail, postage paid (for any distance in the United States | under 3000 miles), on receipt of | the Money ) those who purchase their books at the original EVANS & CO.’S Gift-Book Store. The treasures of art and beau- ty exhausted in furnishing costly, elegant, and tasteful presents for our patrons | WITH EVERY BOOK A GIFT Worth from 50 cents to $100. f Books ever offered at retail sited States, embracing every department | FAYANS & CO’S 4 GIFTS GIFT-BOOK STORE, GIFTS GIFTS No. 677 GIFTS GIFTS Broadway, New York GIFTS HOLIDAY GIFTS | In endless variety without cost ' prices in the Ur of te MAGNIFICENTLY BOUND AND ILLUSTRATED WORKS. British and American authors—splendid library editions. Standard Fic ; | Historical, Biographical, and Scientific Works, | Juveniles and Poetry tibles for the Pocket. the pew, and the family, in ev- ery form, size, and style at very low prizes. A gift with every book, delivered at the time of sale, worth from 50 cents to $100 Descriptive Catalogues of B ments, &c., mailed free to any EVANS & CO., 677 Broadw uy, New York ¢¢ PDALDWIN’S” CLOTHING ESTAB- LISUMENT ks and Gifts, induce- idress | THE LARGEST IN THE CITY Built by Wa. B. Aston, Esq., EXPRESSLY FOR THE BUSINESS Nos. 79 and 72 Bowery. | Competition defied as to taste, style, manufacture, and | Price The largest assortment of ready-made and tasty Garments for Children ever offered in this city | A large per centage marked down since the lst of December CHRISTMAS PRESENT. FOURTEEN PET GOSLINGS, ONLY 38 CENTS. rhe prettiest book published for children. Llustrated y Bituixes. Beautifully bound in Cloth J. E. TILTON & CO., Boston, Publishers. } IBBONS! RIBBONS!! RIBBONS!!! PANIC PRICES—PANIC PRICES EXTRAORDINARY RUN OF CUSTOMERS TO THE CASH RiBBON HOUSE. JOHN FARRELL, 116 Chambers Street, N. Y December, the last Month Jor FALL SEASON. sé B' \OKS AT AUCTION,” Ar 627} BROADWAY, Near_y Orrostte Lavna Keene's THEaTee, COMMENCING AT 6} O'CLOCK EVERY LVENING DURING THe Mont. A large and valuable assortment of books, all new, and warranted perfect, embracing history, biography, trav- els, medical, mechanical, theological, scientific, poetical, and all the new standard miscellaneous books of the day; quarto, pew and pocket Bibles, prayer-books, al- bums, &c.; elegant editions of the standard poets, in rich and superb bindings; annuals, gift books, &c., suit- able for Christmas and New Year's presents. Catalogues can be obtained at the auction-room Books at Private Sale during the day at from 30 0 ’ han the usual prices, by to 50 per cent. less t P PRESTON & CO. BURNETT'S COCOAINE. A Compounp or Coooa-nvut Om, &c., ror Derss- ing tae Hare For efficacy and agreeableness it is without an equal. It prevents the hair from falling off. It promotes its healthy and vigorous growth. Lt is not greasy or sticky. It leaves no disagreeable odor It softens the hair when hard or dry. It soothes the irritated scalp skin. It affords the richest lustre. It remains longest in effect. It costs fifty cents for a half-pint bottle. A single application renders the halr (no matter how } stiff and dry) soft and glossy for several days. It is con- ceded by all who have used it to be the best and cheapest Hair Dressing in the World. Prepared by JOSEPH BURNETT & CQ., Boston. For sale by dealers gever- ally,