The Sumter banner. (Sumterville, S.C.) 1846-1855, March 29, 1853, Image 1
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DEVOTEDT"SIY
4i RC~l SON IL96AlyN
, & Proprietors., g g
SUTT R V IL L E A R
' EL L A N -E0 U 8
5w a ~ 'els enho' Dead.
Ari SISTgRtA STORY.
- o8 pApers entitled, "Ex
7th-Portfolid of an Excite
o tk ' ave just been com
u 1 N '%Harp4er's Magazine. We
6pdvf the'stories, which, though
ald~ we think we have read it
Soti re beforc-?-is exceedingly in
0!dhefday vhen I dined with my
dft fit, the Rev. John H- was
ofWthbgibty. He :was a man about
4&-.y ar -of sge, dressed with pecu
liareatiiess, and entirely in black.
Atiel st'I was vpry much disip
ditated evith his appearance, for he
&duno'frm nor comeliness to recom
iteiid him He was a slightly made
manVithjet-black hair, without one
O6d feature in his face, except the
6y and'-had a somewhat saturine
1 exler His air had something
piclditily calm and tranquil in it, with
dut *fyrafl'At ion of dignity; but a
still gab ease, which implied more
. than 1 perceied at the time. When
he'smiled, hoiever-and he did so
h6 ttonent Iwas .presented to him
his face *as lighted up with the sweet
4- et Wression of benevolence I cv
bVlie1d. There were two or three
oth6rgentlemen at dinner that day, and
t 0. cOnversation turned upon a multi
of subjects-Mr. H- holding
%htsp-art well -and easily, on every top
- io tat was discussed. I could see my
raildfather's eyes turned frequently to
a face, s if remarking something pe
4J liarothore; but after dinner the no
tijes cadgit. "_Why, John," he said,
yo soeni~h ;very,.good healti, and
et hen -I gt you came into the
olobi Ii thiht you must be ill. I
-recollect :ou quite a ruddy young
inan; and now--"
41ywould say I am yellow as a
gilh" replipd Mr with
So--but exactTy-tat" answen'
ed my -grandfather; "'but' your face
has lost all color, and: got' a sort o
leaden look."
"That is owing to the fever I had
some four years ago," replied the rev
erend geiitleinan, and of which I
diedif. ver man really died and came
tdlife againj on this side ot the grave."
He smiled as he spoke; and overy
one present expressing anxiety for
some explanation of what he meant,
1i gave an account of the strange
events that had occurred to him, which
I shall endeavor to render almost in
hi's own.words, only remarking that he
'isstill livin0, and can probably give
arther details, if executors think it
'vo-tgivhile to ask for them.
"I'tie winter of 18-," said Mr.
H-a-, "there was a great deal of
'yphus fever in Edinburgh. It was
a gloomy; sad winter, changing fre
quently from hard frost to warm.
rainy, oppressive weather; and nev.
erdid my native city city better de
sekve the hame of Auld Reek i-, than
erin nedrly four months of that
ear. c The high winds, to which we
rdgeneorally subjected in winter, soeem
d th'aveo ceased altogether: the
sinoke, instead of rising, beat duwn
-upon the city; and notwithstanding its
elevated situation, and fine moun.
taii air, the streets and houses were
eo.markiy dark that there was very lit.
,le difference between the sliort,
'im day, an~d the long and early
~jight~ A sort of oppression fell upon
'"Lmen's spirits, which was increased
by the floating rumors of the aw ful rav
ages of disoase in the town, brought
home to us, every no w and then, by
the death of an acquaintance, a friend
or a relation. Gradually the fever in
creased in vir.ulence, and extended
.for and wide, till it became alnost
e stilence.' It confmned itself to nc
clmiss or. age. Judges, lawyers, phy.
sicians, wore smitten, as well as the
humbler classes: old and young alike,
* eltljbsfore it. Many good mn in the
Timnistry' were takon. It assumed the
worst form of all, however, in thec
prisons of the city, and the account of
jts ravages within their wvalls wvas
tremendous. As the minister of the
-Kirk, I was not absolutely called
upon to sattend the prisoners; but I
heard that two of my brethiren had
'4died in consequence of their zealous
care of the poor' souls within thiose
heavy walls. It was with difficulty
thata saflicient number of the clergy
coulyabo found to attend to their spiri
taM' swants, and I volunteered tc
*isit the prisons daily, mysclf. For
itearly a fortnight, I continued in the(
performance' of the functions I had un
dortaken, without snifer-ing in the
least, except mntally from witnes
andgt't' sapferinigs of oithersm. Buti
one S8aturdayt inight, as I returned
Mod l~g the very gloomy streets
I fet~lasitde upon me, an utter pro
sfdn~i of strength, which forced nt
to stop twieo, in order to rest, bo.
e'~r I reo~chied my owngoor. I attri
buted' it to excesat' fiitgue; for I was
a ~l~the sligid~stapeiebension, and
never at all looked forward to the .
coming calamity. When I reached i
home I could not eat-my appe- n
tite was gone. But that I attibuted& e:
also to fatigue, and I went quietly -
to bed. During the night, however, v
intense pain in the back and in 'the 'I
forehead succeeded; a burning heat n
spread all over me; my tongue be- P
came parched and dry; my mind wan- tl
dered slightly; and instead of rising to tI
preach, as I intended, I was obliged to if
lie still, and send for a physici'an with ti
the first ray of the morning light; His s4
visit is the last thing I recollect for sev- sM
e-al days. I remember his order- O
ing all the windows to be opened, not- t(
withstanding the coldness of the day,
and causing saucers, filled with some tl
disinfecting fluid, to be placed in diff. b
erent parts of the room, in order to I
guard ily wife and children against the t,
infection. I then, for the first time, sl
discovered that I had caught the fever. t
I remember little more-for violent de- P
lirium set in soon-till suddenly, af- b
ter a lapse of several days, I regain'ed n:
my consciousness, and with it a divic- t
tion that I was dying. My wife was fi
kneeling, weeping, by my bedside; two K
physicians and a nurse were present; d
and it was strange after the dull state of It
perfect insensibility in which I had a
lain during the last twenty-four hours, f
how completely all my senses had re- d
turned, how keen were alg my per- n
ceptions, how perfect my powers of a
thought and reason. In my very health- e
iest days, I never remember to have 0
had so complete comm and of all my t
mental faculties as at that moment. But t<
I was reduced to infant wcakne.-s; and a
there was a sensation of sinding faint- v
ness, not confined to any one part or a
organ, but sprea ling over my whole n
frame which plainly announced to me 8i
that the great event was coming. They t
gave ie sonie brandy in tea-spoonfuls; n
but it had no other effect than to ena
ble me to utter a few words of affec. a
tion and consolation to my wife; and If
then the power of'apoech departed ar. A
tiethr.r_' The sensation that juccee. a
ded I cannot describe. Few have felt E
it; but I have conversed with one or
two who have experienced the same,
and I never found one who, either by a a
figure or by direct langtdage, could con
vey any notion of it. The utmost I t
can say is, that it was a feeling of ex
tinction. Fainting is very different. h
This was dying; and a single moment of b
perfect unconsciousness succeeded. t
"Every one believed me dead. My N
eyes were closed and weights put upon .a
them. The lowerjaw, which remained n
dropped, was bound up with a black e
ribbon. My wife was hurried from c
the room, sobbing sadly; and there I d
lay, motionless, voiceless, sightless; d
growing colder and more cold, my 11
limbs benumnbed, my heart without P
pulsation, dead, all but in spirit, and d
with but one corporal faculty in its or- s
iginal acuteness. Not only. did my I.
hearing remain perfect atafiftire, but C
it seemed to be quickened iiid render. tl
ed tenfold more sensitive than ever. h
I could hear sounds in the house, at a a
distance from my chamber, which had u
never reached me there before, The
convulsive sobbing of my wife in a C
distant room; the imurmured conversa- h
tion of tle physicians in a chamber be. n
low; the little ifect of mny children tread
ing with timid steps as they passed .
the chamber of death; and the voice of 11
the nurse, saying, "Hush, my dear, I
hush !", as the eldest wept aloud in as- C
cening the stairs. .
"There was an old woman left with v
a light, to wvatch with the dead body ;
and I can not tell yon howv painhi'l to C
me was her moving about the room, ~
her muttering to herself, and her heavy r
snoring when she fell asleep. But
more terrible anguish wvas in store.- I
On the following morning the under- I
taker camne to measure mec for may a
cotin. Although, as I have said, I C
was all benumbed, yet I had a fainmt c
remnant of feeling, which made nmen
know when any thing touched me, and 8
a consciousness as perfect 'as in the y
highest days of health. You can fan-. t
cy, better than I can tell, whaut I en. U
dured, as I felt the man's measuret
rin over my body to take the precise ~I
size for the awfbl receptacle that was n
to carry fue to the grav'e. T1henm camne P
the discussion ofhalfan hour between a
him and the old crone in the chamber, r
in regard to black gloves and hat C
-bands. I am really lashmamned of mi- L
w hen I remember the sensations I ex
perienaed. I never felt so unchristian 3
in may life, as I (lid then, when lying- v
to all appearance, dead ; and the worst b
of it all was, 1 could1 not master those e
sensations. 'Will seemed to bo at an ii
end, even when consciousness remain- n1
ed entire. After that, what I most ni
distinctly remember was a long, dull a
blank. 1 fancy the room was left va- v
cant, for I had no perceptions. The b~
spirit wvas loft to itself. itt only re- d
ronnng organ of comnmunicaioni with a
the material world had nothing to act s
uponi, and thought was all in all.- ii
liut thought was intensely .terrible.- 1
T1rue, thought w~as conmcntrated alto- r
getlir ,non one subijet Trman. I
is rTuch to -.repent.of. Every. man
ho believes, ,hs.inuch to .hope and
auch' to fear in the. presence. of apeth.
world. But repentance,. hope, fear
-1 tell you the plain truth-another
orld itself, never came into any mind.
hey seermed to have died away from
Lemory, with that extinction of will
which. I have spoken. , All I
iought of then was, that I was lying
,ere lIving" and was about to be bur
d with the dead. It was like one of
iose terrible dreams in which we
em grasped by some -monster, or
ime assassin, and struggle to shriek
to resist but, have neither power
utter a sound nor to move a limb.
'I will not dwell much upon the far.
ier particulars. The -coffin was
rought.into the room; I was dressed
my grave clothes; I was moved into
iat narrow bed, stiff, and: rigid as a
one, with agony of mind which I
iought must have awakened some
awer in the cold, dull mass which
mund up my spirit. One whole
ght I lay there in the coffin-hearing
ie tick of the clock upon the stairs
led with strange and wild impress.
ns-doubting whether I were really
ad, or whether I were living-long
g to see and know if my flesh were
,tually corrupting-fancying that I
It the worm. The morning broke; a
im gray light found its way through
iy closed eyelids; and about an hour
ter, I heard the step of the undertak
-and another man in the room. One
l them dropped something heavily on
ke floor, and a minute after they came
close the coffin, and the undertaker
ked his assistant for the screw-dri
3r. It was the last instant of hope,
id all was agony. Suddenly I heard
iy wife's step quite at the foot of the
airs. 'Oh, God! she will never let
iem!' I thought. 'She who loved
ie so well, who was so dearly loved!'
'She came very slowly up the stairs,
id the step paused at the door. I
ncied I could almost see. her, pale
Ad i.rerablingathov To undertaker.
aked. in a lou4}voice, for tlie 'eofin-id
tat the door' opened, ~and lIsabellia's
Dice exclaimed, half-choked with tears,
)h, not yet, not yet! Let me look
him once again!'
'Love and sorrow spoke iii every
me. My spirit thanked her; and
ever had I felt such ardent love for
3r as then. But the idea of living
arial was still pre-eminent. If she
)ok that last look and left me, all
'as over. My anguish was byond
I description. It seemed to rouse
iy spirit to some great, tremendous
lort. I tried to groan, to speak, to
.y, to move, even to briathe. Sud
enly, in that great agony, a single
rop of perspiration broke out upon
iy forehead. It felt like molten iron
ouring through the skin.' But the
eadly spell was broken. My arms
:ruggled within their covering; I part
r raised my head, and opened my
yes wide. A loud, long shriek rang
arough the room, and my wife cast
erself upon the coffin, between me
ad the hateful covering the man held
p in his hands.
'I need not tell you all that follow.
3; ftr here I am, alive and in perfect
ualth. But I have never recovered
iy original color, and have ever re
iained as sallow as you see me now.
he event, however, has been a warn
g to me. In nainy cases previously
had calmly seen people hurried very
.trly to the grave; but ever since,
'herever I had influence, I have pre
ented the dead from being buried be
>re ome signs of corruption present
I th tnselves; for I am p:erfectly coma
inced that those signs are the only
~al tests of'deaitha.
Such was the tale told at my grand
ather's table, in may hearing, by the
ev. M. 11 -, onme of' the most
mniable, pious and exemiplary men 1
ver knew. T1hlough niot, I am afraid,
ver-burdened with religion himself,
iy grandfathcr never sneered at reli
ion in others, and your history, may
xcellent friend, seems to me, the ex
netion, as it wvere, of all thought of
future state, in the terrible condition
which you wvere reduced. I might
inmost call it the extinction, of religion
your mind, which, in one of your
rinciples and views, seems almost uan
ecountanble; for the mere act of memno
y, I should imnaginme, must have recall
dI thme ideas in which you had been
rought up."
"It was a very strange state," said
Er. II. , thoughtfully. "qume in
-uich every thing seemed extingumshecd,
ut perception. You are wrong, huow
v'er, ina supposing that religion was at
n eand; for the idea of God and his
inerey through Christ were present to
ae all the time; not distinct as thoughts,
ad without giving me aniy power to
'ill or to do; but as p~erepltio~ns, as
cliefs-just as in the midst of a
ream, we very often know that we
re dreaming. I cannot explain my
31f more clearly; bat whenever I again
meet with' -another person who has
ecn iln a similar state, I will compar -
iy sensations in these paaticulars--for
cannot call them thmmts-.with hId*
and endeavbr"to ardtvi M pinethlig 1
mbre definite."'The sui - thn a
dropped. -. : <" e .
"Tail o a' Conar,
We find- the 'followin 0i6stetj
in a-late number' of th'e w Y Yoik
Spirit-of the. Times. .)ii weather
is very, warm, recomme it dto be
read in a cool corner,-r ah dy a
grove, at sorpe, our mer re
treats or wateringplaces.
I will givegou an adv ture of a
bashful lover. -His namWas Dani
phule, but we 'ued to cali ' Jack.
ass' for short. Heaven p me if he C
should ever hear -this- sto, I hope
be. don't take the Spirit'
Among his many' nisfd ines, for
he was cock-eyed, red ed, and
knock-kneed, he num'l : that in
convenient one of bashfil ; never
theless, he was fond of "1", adies, al
though when in their p once he
never opened his mouth he could
help it, and when he did peak he
used both hands to -help ' alk; in
fact, he was a young ma f great
actions.
Jack, one warm day,' in love.
He had just graduated college,
and began to think he mu eek the
ladies' society; he was g ng to be
a man, and it looked mal to have
a 'penchant.'
So Jack fell in love the
sweetest, loveliest, boydenl' girl in
the square-but how to telkliit love.
There was the rub. -He agood
deal of the 'language of eNs' and fe
accordingly tried that; bs." jhen lie
looked particularly hard he wihi
dow in which Miss Emil i i the
habit of sitting, some pe4i o - the
other side of the street w ai-W
ably bow'o-bjm, thinkis was &z?
deavoring t e.hh
has despi p ever
snice. -
- At length he obtained an introduc
tion through his sister, and with her
he called several times, but she was
obliged to leave the city for a season,
and as each interview had increased
his ardor, he finally determined upon
'going it alone.'
Long before the hour fixed upon
by custom for an evening visit, lie
found himself arrayed in his best.
Blue coat, metal buttons, black cas.
simere pants, (said pants being a
leetle tighter than the skin) and a
spotless vest. The journals of the
day state, as an item of intelligence,
that the thermometer ranged from
75 to 80 deg. Jack swears it was a
hundred. As the hour gradually
drev near, Jack found his perspira
tion and courage oozing out together,
and lie almost determined to pull
off and stay at home. -Ie conclud
ed, however, he'd take a walk past
the house, and see how he felt.
By the time he reached the man.
sion, he firmly concluded not to go in,
but on casting his eyes towards the
parlor window, and perceiving no
sign of life there, he thought it prob
able that no one was at. home, and
since lie had proceeded so far, he
would proceed farther and leave his
cardl.
No soomner determined, than con
cluded. In a reckless moment he
pulled the bell; the darn'd thing
needn't make such a 'cussed' noise.
The door was opened as if by magie,
and the servant girl politely asked
him in. Miss Emily was alone in
the parlor, and would bo delighted to
see hiun.
0 Lord! here was a fix! Go in a
dar'k parlor with a pretty girl alone!
It was too late to retreat; the girl
had closed the front door, and was
pointing to the parlor where 'Miss
Emily was sitting all alone.' Be
ing perfectly convinced that no
choice was left for him, into the dark
room lie walked or rather slided.
All was perfect chaos to his eyes
for a moment, but only for a moment;
then from the deepest gloom came
forth an angel' voice, 'bidding him
welcome and draw near.' To obey
the order was hut the wvork of a mo.
ment, as lie supposed; but he litdle
dreampt of the obstacle which fate
had thrown in his way. ie knew
full well the stream of love had many
ripples, but full grown snags entered
not into his calculation.
Judge then of his astonishment on
being tripped up almost at the fair
one's feet by a footstool with plethor.
ic legs, which chance or a careless
servant had placed on his road to
happiness. Over ho went, and as
the tailor had not allowed for an ex
tra tension of muncele an'd sinewshe
ot-only prooueii a tunble~rbqt'a1ie
.ceinpound fragture oE the,- black
aitsiafqresaia; said.fracture; extend.
Vall;aco-ossthM point ithih* Comes
ielesegt contact with the ! ehair.
faving picked hiipdelt.ip ;atc'ao
Ify as careur:st , 4 uld' illo
die smuother ed lasgG if. luis 2 iy;
of setting him forwardf.y, C kli& t
ltSu9Ceeded in reachiung a, c) a
nd drawing his coat tail foniar to
revent a disagreeable exposeisat
imself dowh with as much grace as
bear would be expected-t6 exhibit
ehen requested to dan6e dn needles.
The young lady was a61ost suffo$
ated with laughter atthe sad inis
ortune of the bashful lover, felt truly
orry for him, and used allh her piv
trs of fascination to driva it m. his
nind, and eventually suceeded o
ar as to induce him to. make a
nark.
On this rock he split, for just at
hat moment she discovered that she
iad -lost her handkerchief. . What
iad become of it? -She was sure she.
iad it when~she came in! It Iust
:ertainly.be some where about.
'Haven't got it under you, M.
Damphule?'
Jack Was sure that couldn't besso,
but poor Jack, in venturing an an
swer, could not possibly get along
without raising his hands, and of
course he must drop his coat tail
In his anxiety to recover the missibg
viper, lie even ventured to incline
his body so as to get a glance ,on -the
floor. As he did so, the fracture
opened, and behold, there lay, as the
lady supposed, her property.
It was the work of a moment to
seize the corner and exclaim:
'Here it is, sir; you needn't trout
ble yourself. Raise a little; under
onl'lat the admve! mpevig i
Alas !At.
epipe- notli-i short of a spe
interposition of Providence could
save his shirt.. But what could he
do? Another and another, a strong
pull, evincing on the part of the lady
a praiseworthy determination to ob.
tain the 'lost dry goods,' coupled with
the request
'Get up, sir, your're sitting on it,'
determined him, and in the agony
of the moment, grabbling with both
hands, a. fast disappearing strip of
linen which encircled his neck, lie
exclaimed in heart-broken accents,
'for God's sake, Miss Emily, leave
me my shirt collar!'
TiH MODEL M -THEIN-m-LAW.-The
Model Mother-in-law is essentially a
strong-minded woman. She is always
telling people 'a bit of her mind." The
husband gets a bit every day. All his
relations, too, who dare "to put their
noses into what do not concern thetii,"
are favored with "a bit"-a good
large bit-also. Her "mind," like
the bell of St. Sepulchire,is never told,
unless it is the prelude to sone dread
ful execotion. She dearly loves a
quiet family. The Model Mother-in
law makes a principle of residing with
the vietiris. When once in a house, she
is as ditlicult to get oit as the dry rot,
and, if allowed her own way, soon u~n
dermines everythiing; and brings the
house, "in no time," about every body's
ears. She goes out of town with themi
every year. She should never for
give hierselfC if anything happened when
she was away, and she Was not near her
dearest Julia to aid and comfort. The
husband's comfort is never considered.
If' he does succeed in driving her out of
the house his torments are by no means
at an end, for the chances are that she
takes a lodging in the same street,
and lives just oppo'ite to him. T1hen
she amuses herself by running back
ward all day, dlropp)ing into dinner and
luncheon about six times a week, or
else watching every thing that takes
place ini the honse, from over the win
dowv blinds of ber tirst pair front. 11er
only escape, then, is in establishing a
society for the promotion of enuigra
tion to England of all homeless mo
thcrs in-law who have an only daught
er. If this should be fruitless, hiis on
ly hope is in procuring a law to an
null all marriages where tlie husband
can prove that lie has married "a treas
uro of a daughter," who has a "jewel
of a mother." If this remedy ev
en should fhil, he had bettor takei a
couple of Life Pills, for "there is
no rest but the grave," for the hus
band w~ho groans under a model moth
er-in law.-Puncha.
"Well, my dear, what is itl"
"D~idn't you tell me~ the world was
roundi"
"Then I'd like to .kr ow howi l.ca'i
come to an end?
"My child, how oftn t
Cp o J t ir meI
Elai 0f dlQber 80 entitld d t
[#omIoke 'png' t
Beg pardon e'in but Icannot 31
etand it lgdr !Yh'e ri -
iii'.i 'did n o n vu
fit" Kage disn 41 W
ge, Yor one Iad not guilty.
Wh , J st asinait'ral fr .ie. to
looly plepsut,~ dasit is for.be sun
tosiune .if- yo.don't bel eve me
di'te ibund this way some day Ofid
see for Yourself.
~Youapity' us, do you ? We]l.l
lbol1i .pit when you take the
btt"sIart of 'inankind, to dnake
laughi ng tock f6r the whole e
creation, saint nd sinner-inercie
pity, that.
'Out of elows, out f,
ofI ,, s~rs,'. .&e.,
.&9 -Nowlif.you want to see a .man
'out of sorts,' follow home that family
man that'goes 'strutting pasto-poor
hen-pecked, curtain lectured fatnily
man!, No wonder he holds' up his
head like a' chanticleer,' when lie
gets out, He feels free oied -ire,
almost like himself again--6less
just as. he mes an old chum, lie
sees.pri te.of 'baby's' fingeraon his
shirt bosom, or finds a piece of Char
ley's candy sticking to his coat. Oh,
joys of wedded life! - W9 ain't un
der'. doniction yet--can't be friight
ened. into the 'matrimonial noose,' no
ho*
Afraid to ask. a womih td have
them for fear she'll eay N oI
I've bean appointed a coimittee of
fdurteen,' to tell you W.'no such
hing 11e t the least feer.of
woman bf9r. u.r eyes; 6hldu't
heliove ti'~ itef did
we tote poetyo ie d
all that-and didn he diieteis 9'
Who'd be afraid of hearing a w~ornan
say 'no !' after he'd been said 'Yes'
to) as sweet as lip could say it, and
then jilted. '.That's what makes some
told bachelors,' and if the sisters in
general keep a clear conscience, 1
pity them. Their 'sufferings': must
be 'intolerable'
AN OLD BACHELOR.
Murder of a Rich Old Gentle
niaa by liie Housekeeper.
'. The English papers are filled with
the details of the murder of a rich
old bachelor by the name of William
Jones by his housekesper, a middle
aged woman named Elizabeth Vik.
era. . It appears that Mr. Jones had
lived so Iong vith Elizabeth that he
thougt he -could not possibly live
Without her, and she had got in the
habit of drinking, and vihe she was
drunk she abused him. The old man
was nearly helpless, and he was so
attachad to Mrs. Vickers that when
ever she threatened to leave him he
would entreat..her not to abandon
him. One witness testified that she
would lock him up when she went
away, and that if he get out sho
would whip him terribly. She was
frequently seen dragging him through
thie garden by his gray hairs. Mrs.
Annie Gray, a next door neighbor,
said: I know Mr. Jones well, but
never had a conversation with him
but twice. The first time, in July, I
told him I was sorry. to see him so
poorly and infirm, and added that it
was a pity to see him in the state he
was in. His reply to me was, " I
amn a miserable man." I told him
that if ho wanted anything and tapp
ed at the wall, I would render him
all the assistance im my power. I
have often heard cries in his house.
Mr. Jones and his housekeeper used
to have acrious disputes about money
matters. I have heard the . latter
say, "Givo me the Oloney' and let
mgo." At ether times I heard
he etthe old man. Jones used
to say her, "Don't leave me."I
distinctly heard the .sound of a slap
on the face whbich the -housekeeper
gave him. I-have frequently heard
thcm quarrel andl heard the deceased
utter the cries 'of "'nider" on two
or three occasions. Ia one these
quarrels I heard the housekeoper say,
"Give me the money and let mec go,"
and his reply was, "Don't leave,mu~e;
I1 cannot lose .you." She thenx asked
him how he dared to goto Mr.eg,
liis lgwyer. .The old mian ilof an
st rng. er, X heard. enoera.bi
JN'
Ilmmond, whor
1e pattieuare fiwVnt
iea'rd, 0F 'to io ip-e
le Icongd.' '1h1e - ia~' th; U
e on .onesh Mr .,4-t e
tai ch disturbed I)'ife1a
Hamn d;etv whou anistee
n Mri tieside0;
or. pn the course of
was awoke by one of ?r
From the Voices. eb co,
tell that ibere were'o lyV N
and his housekeet in. th -
back parlor) at the time.
heard the latter talk n
heard Jones say, "Oh,
ay:d' Immediately 'fter
head a heavy fall
was followed by ped
lence, during which' wie6
hear even a breathing r v is
This was brokeri by th boi"
opening the door and adt
persons to her assistm'd
could distinctly hear sev~alWiie
and, for .the remaining por!
morning, the noises frota
appeared to be most unp. 6"
fact that this oldinai
years oid, and thath
'the violence'of- his ho0 .
proved conclusiv . eTho '
was comitedt piso
-0 '
been egnizrint- 6 an)V4
mnistakes "iied by.~gr
tion of fingeribowl toithee
Sone line made pUnch
rs-he iixed b rd6 a
dFnk their waer from
o'f porclain; and-it isrord
old -lady' used hersa
yeterday afternnrewe
of any trouble beirig a
gracefully folded ripkinsdth
invariably spread by;th '
pate At our fasiiabl
hotels and private' r
forced upon out bcn o
r, by an incide ntofas ft a
that specified, that th& slmj l 4,9 n
may have their ues. i o-fu 'y o
ceived, and be therriselves ni
ly misapplied.
A g
ably from the interior, F
Picayune, was atey io
our hotels. -e femd bei
Piny,~odrgo ta;~id
singularly different from
Piywood region that h4ia
and had hertofor- d-oiini
Nevertheless the naj
articles be ould, detee%,
teeted 'could use The
noyed him some, andWi
him-annoyance. The Wai ~ $
little trouble'suinoj~na . i~
matters vexed ~the ode
temper. He was not seriously"l~
however, until dinner tinme.
taken his seat at the ktable, lieh
looking after the eddlles.s Thqe
nothing within reach inae the
of eating that surrounded hisl! ~ ej$
These he surveyed with soe iij
righted the plate, prepared
and fork, p~ushed b~ack #h e
and drewv towards him the liti ~
which contained his napkin i~~
ter he carefully extracted from tlo- "'
glass, and surveyed- wi~t e z~
euliar air of wonidei'digdos
sidering, we suppose, what onysa
could -be intended forI. Fihan ~X
bright idea seemned ~t strike l'n 1'h< $
napkin waa gathered up like nd~-"
kerchief,- slowly elevated to hted
and then,-and thmen to thetio~~
able mirth of all who had waotehed I
movements, he applied it to his i
organ, and blew a blast
noise of six east winds
ting of three ear hrakes.
. THE ouNG W iFE BT
Why art thou sad spy
what grief' is frownin
.W hy dost thou droopien ~
and why do tears unbid ~
W hen first lI ooed~ hti~
saw they, sweetestu. -
eni drean~ t ~ f
sun ofsui ~ ~ ~ ~
phy~Js