Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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^^.^I^lL-^?__*??L? : * .^ti. . '.. ' , ; ' *; THE CAROLINA SPARTAN. BY GAVIS & trimmier. . Dctrotcir to Southern ftigljts, Politics, Agriculture, oniJ iHiscelJonrj. t2 FEB ahntjm, '"Vol. XIII. SPARTANBURG, S. C? THURSDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1S56. ' - " W ifj - - . * THIS UJLUUL.1NA SPARTAN. BY CAYIS &~TRIMMIER. T- 0. P. VERNON, Associate Editor. Frice Two Dollars pgr onnum in advance, or $2.50 at the end of the year. If not paid until after the year expires $3.00. Payment will be considered in advance if made within three months. No subscription taken for less than six months. Money may be remitted through postmusters at ?r risk. Advertisements inserted nt the usual rates, and eor.irAoU mode on reasonable terms. The Spartan circulate* largely over this and adjoining districts, and offers an admirable medium to our frieuds to reach customers. Job work of all kinds promptly executed. Blanks. Law and Equity, continually on hand or prin'ed to order. CAROLINA SPARTAN. SANTA CLAt'S. 'Twas the night betore Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stookiugs were hung by thechimncv with care ] In the hope that St. Nicholas soon wou'd be there. The children were mailed all snug in their beds, { While visions of sugar plums danced in their head*, And mamma in her kerelii. f, and I in my cap, Had just settled our bruins for a long winter's nnp; tviwn out 011 the lawn there rose such n clatter. ' I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash. Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new lallen snow, Gave the lustre of intjday to objects below. When what to my wandering eyes should appear, i Hut a miniature sleigh, and eight thiy rein-deer, i Whith a little old driver so lively and quick, I know in n moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came. And he whistled, and shouted, and culled them byname: * - I " Now, D.wher! now, Dancer ! now, Pronocr! now . Vien! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Dund. r and Blixen! To the top o! the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! <la*li away! dash away all!" I As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, ( When they meet with an o staele mount to the sky , . So up to the house top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full o( toys?and St Nicholas too. ' And then, in a twinkling, I lo-aril on the roof, * The prancing and pawing of each little hoot; j As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Dowu the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. . He was dressed all in fur, Irom hi* head to his foot, ' And his clothes were ail tarnished with ashes and I soot; I A bundle of lo>-s was flung on his liaok, And he looked like a pedk-r just opening his pack; . His eyes?how they twinkled ! Ins iliinph s how I merry; 1 His checks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; t I l>s droll little m>>uth was drawn up like a how. , And the beard of Ins chin was ;is while as the j uiiivrTlie stump of a pipe he held light in.hi* teeth; An I the ?>i|ol(? it viicirclcd Ins hea l like a wreath; ! lie had a broad face, and a little round belly, i Tliat shnoU ivImii Iih i.l-.. .. i i f-.n H'y- - . j J 1I* was ehubhy and plump. a right jolly old .-If. All'l I lull it hod when I saw Iiiiii 111 spite of myself. A wink of lii* eye ami a livmi oi Ins hr.nl, I Soon gave mi' lo know I li.nl iiollMiig to ilrrail; ( He Hjmkr nut a word, hut wrni straight to liin work. Anil tilled all lis stoekitjgs then turned with a jerk. And laving Ills ft Iger aside III liia no~e, Ami giving a nod, tt|i the chimney ho rone. i Ho s.irailg to Ins sleigh, loins tr.iiii g..ve a whistle. , And away they all flow lilo- the down m a thistle; Hot I heard hi u rxolaioi, err ho drove out sight, "Mcriy Christinas to all, and to all a good night " ' a in s Galvanic Action in tmk Eaktu.?An .> eminent London culler, Mr. \Vei>s, having I observed that steel seemed to be much int- i proved when it had become ru?ly in the i earth, and provided that the rust was not i factitiously produced by the application of i acids, inade the experiment of burying i some razor-blades for nearly llireo years, and the result fully corresponded to his expectation. The blades became coated with rust, which had the appearance oi having exuded from within, but were not corded, and the quality of the steel was decidedly improved. Analogy led to the conclusion that the same might hold good with respect to iron, under similar circumstances. Ho accordingly purchased fifteen tons of tho iron with which the piles of London bridge had been shod. Each shoe , consisted of a small inverted pyramid, with four straps, rising from the four sides of the base, which embraced and wero nailed to the piles; tho total length, from the point 1 which entered the ground to the end of tho strap, being about sixteen inches, and the ' weight about eight pounds. Tho pyramidal extremities of the shoes were found to bo not much corroded, nor indeed were the straps; hut the latter had become extremely and beautifully sonorous. When manufactured the solid points in question wero j rnni'Mrtilila intA ??? 11 -? w ...?V 'VIJ imoir" niutsi, HH') 1110 bolls; but the straps produced steel of uno- | quailed superiorly. The Okeat Astronomical Problem.? { The imhortant problem of determining the distance of the sun from the earth has oc- j copied tho attention of some of the most i * eminent astronomers for the last three cen- ' 1 turies. This distance is deduced from the J solar parallax, the angle of which is no extremely small as to be difficult of accurate j measurement. From observations of the ' parallax of Mars, Cassini estimated that of 1 the sun to be nearly ten seconds?a value 1 which for a long time was generally adopt- I * ed. The inost accurate mode of determi- 1 nation, however, is deemed to be lliat first v suggested by Gregory, in his Optica Pro 1 mata, published in 1009, viz: by observa- J tions of the transits of Venus over the soladisc. The same plan was subsequently re . f commended by Dr. Halley, though nearly a century elapsed before an opportunity v offered for its application. The transits of c 1701 and 1700 were carefully observed in 1 different parts of the world, and from a 1 thorough discussion of these observations it f has been concluded that the parallax of the * sun, at ita mean distance from the earth, is 1 ?<gi?i seconds ?nd 57 iOOllm. The corres- 3 donding distance is rather more than nine- r ty-flve millions of miles, or about 24,000 ( c times the earth's equatorial radius. " An Athenian, who was lame in one foot, j 1 joining the army, was laughed at by the 1 soldiery on account of his lameness. "I am < here to fight," laid he, "not to run." ! ' MY OWN FUNERAL. "1 a - ii A PHYSIOLOGICAL PHENOMENON. a "Munich!'1 exclaimed old Mr. O??, as h we were talking of my recent travels in n Germany, over tbo port and walnuts, "ah! R how many n strange memory does that one si name call upl It was there that life?that t< is, the life of cities?first broke upon me in d all its brilliant hollowness; and yet what |( do 1 know! Is thero more real honeity o besido the plough or in the vineyard? f( Well, no matter?man is roan all the 0 world over; but it was not at Munich thnl c, I first learnt all the treachery of which man a is capable. It was there that I passed sonio d of my happiest hours, and there too that 1 T died." . tl "Died!" I exclaimed, doubtful whether I < ! heard aright. a] "Yes, died," replied the old gentleman, in a calm, matter-of fact tone, so that when Gl I had opened my eyes to the full extent al* ci lowed by the School to Design to depict the &) passion of wonderment, and had asked my- n< self two or three limes whether he could s| possibly mean that he had dyed his whis ei kern there, or had really talked himself into 0i such an autobiographical stnte, that he tc thought it necessary to bring the narrative lj down to his own decease, 1 camo to the b conclusion that my old friend was doling. Ri "I supposo you speak metaphorically!" 1 suggested. tl "Not a bit c. it. I can understand that d Villi sIliltlM ti.l ttilriit iuo.t vrlmii T tlmt T -1 I ? 1 ? ?y - s| Jied. Hut il is a fact, literal, positive, and w unqualified, at least ; but, not to spoil a !r good story, suppose I begin at lit? beginning." li Now is it not pleasant to hear an old h< man talk of his youth! Is il not good for w us who are entering on life, to Learn from nj ?ne who is leaving it! Willi sne foot iu the grave, how calm is the far new he can di Lake of the days of his strength, with all its h self satisfaction, its worldliness and disap- h [Hjijilments. How.complete is his experiitice?how valuable the lcr$oc long since I Irawn and followed, now recalled and jrreachcih ai So then I listened: y( Il is forty years sine? I went to Munich, jt [ was aUuche to the embassy of that dear { fyonl E , the most popular. because li e m most amiable and liveliest, minister that Uavaiia has, perhaps, ever known. I had a' i?een turned out into this post from Oxford, |j it one and twenty, and had not so much as w <een a single London season. My father's (_J ?eat, Eton, and the University, was all 1 knew of life, and how littU is that? 1 can It ay now, without vanity, that I was hand mine and distinguished. Lioidos this, 1 iv?u very ardent ami rather romantic, and ;J I hail not been three months in Munich be- m Ore I was in love, yes, desperately in love, h, with Ida Von Frankenstein, a young coun- al Less with a large lor'.une, and justly the ji queen of beauty in the Bavarian capital. y, Ma was not vain, but she was a tint, and there/ore. by a common rule of the heart, J |, ...I..... .1... i t ~;i? i - -1 - 1 TIJVII rxiciwilllllliu III* BllCUl lieVOlU'U lll.'U j ii v attachment was tio mere ad miration, ot ! H. a Inch flie had bo much, and more than U .-nough, in the ball rootus of the gay capi m al, flie coiicyivod for ma a deep passionate i flection. lint Ida, being a Hiri; never st ill owed it. By no act, word, or look could 0I I ever discover that she gave to me oue s< bought more than to the most insignificant n >f the numberless young/aft who laughed *v uid danced and tlirled with her. She was ol ? queen in every respect, and she was de- N crmined that 1 should oiler my homage w lubmissirely. Besides this, she was very ? :lever ami lull of a brilliant, satirical wit, Hi which sometimes wounded, though I am h :erlain that her heart was too generous and h jood to hurt another's willingly. Liko all nonarchs, sho felt herself privileged, and tl lielioved that it was as easy for her to heal h with a mere smile, as to wound with a tneio I word. st I say I never guessed that slio cared the a east for me; but had I been more than the limple boy I was, I might have discovered '' t, for by a series of artitices she contrived h;o draw me on first into a deeper passion, 11 next into jealousy. To do this without re- f* pulsing me entirely, to excite my fears with- C( nut destroying my hopes, she selected a ' young officer, of whom certainly I had little li :ause to be jealous; for, though rather hand- oi ?ome, and very fashionable, he was so in- u tensely vain, and so tiresomely heavy, that ti iften she had delighted me with Iter c'aver w mimicry of his absurdities. And yet I was n, jealous, oven to hopelcssnoas?but then was w I not jealous of the very rose she held in in Iter fair hand? j w It was a terrible winter at Munich, where 1,1 very winter is frightfully severe, and I was 9<lot strong. I was beginning to suffer from P he intense cold, and Ida's conduct brought iuffering of another kind, i whs growing sc apidly ill. I lost my buoyant spirits of *fore, which the novelty of this brilliant life if the carnival season had brought out and Ci dated beyond nature's bounds. My love a I . L - - * * uiu ciKtin a nrm grip ol me. 1 had beu 11 lint oiio idea?thnt one face only hnunted P no by day and night. I never slept. I l' vas never calm for ten minutes. My mom-1 w ng walks were all taken in that quarter )' vhere I knew?for love knows so much by 1 nstinct-?that she would be. My evenings st vero devoted to meeting her, whether at ?all, soiree, or common reception. It is c' rue that she always kept a place for mehy ler side; that while the heavy Slockonheitu F vns occupied with elaborating some stupid I ompliment on llie other si le, she would it urn to me with sotne flow of wit, which tl he officer strove to catch, and when caught, o >as*ed ten minutes in attempting to under- n tend. It is true that I saw and knew all ei his, and yet I was jealous?nil the more o o btcauae I adopted mo world's narrow li easoning, and said to myself, "This very K tonduct is a proof of her inddFerence. If w he cared one atom for mo, it is not in this h way she would show it." And she did not ti ihow it. She seemed to keep me, at it 1 w were, for her companion, becnuse I was deverer end quicker then the rest; but I, n cnew that the heart has no rules, and that w woman may l>e fascinated by mind, bi i bound by aotuo sympathy which she cat ot explain. Thus I went on for settle time. Besid er I lived, but when away from her on lottient a strange depression caine over mi nd the idea daily grew upon me that liould sink under the excitement of thi srrihle passion. It was. lkerefore, that readed moro than death to disclose m >ve. I felt that a refusal would kill me .1 nee, and this dread grew upon me so feat illy that for hours 1 would lie on my sof r my bod listless and unable to move. O nurse I went to a doctor, for I would nc tnfess to myself tbnt there was no othe sense in ine than my hidden passion lie man of drugs shook his head, sai trough mo partly, and recoiniucn.le lango of sceue. I never went near hin gain. One evening I met Ida at the Duches F D 's. I had grown daily more ex ted, and every day I had imagined tlm le seemed to understand me more. I wu ow almost beyond self-government, am le was wonderfully kind. Though Stock iheitn was there, she danced with mi nly, and we roamed through the room igether, and I talked rapidiy and excited ', now about the world in which I mixed ut which I haled, and now about myscl nd iny own awful presentiment of deatli At times slio listened seriously, I almos louglil sally; but then, when she hn< rawn me on to speak still moro ferventh ic would burst out into a laugh, tell mo as mad or a dreamer, or ask me if I h:u lade my will and left her anything. Once fts we quitted the ball room, I sa\ er turn and throw a glance to Slocken eiui, who was watching her, as a do< .-itches his master eating, with a stroiq ppotite in his great unmeaning eyes. \Vc strolled from room to room, nnd id not sec that the officer was following er. At last, in a lilllo boudoir, I stoppc< er short. "You have laughed at me long enough,' said, and my whole soul was in the word? You must listen seriously for one moment fid then?then, when you hate killed mc du may laugh a# you like?I cannot helj I know it will be my death blow, bu must speak now. I love you?love yot lore than " "llow very amusing! How delightfully isurd! Mon-ieur Stockeuheim," and her ke an apparition he appeared in the dooi ay, "do come to my rescue. Hero is Mi making mo an offer. Ha, ha, ha! "Enough," I muttered. "Laugh now is your last chance." And with that I tied. For a week 1 lay on my bod, more dem inn living. I nursed my grief, my ragi ly despair, and every hour brought in iiver. One or two li tends came to see m< ltd one of tlieiu?one of those kind, cha able beings who always lake care to lei on (lie news you least wish to hear? rotiglil the intelligence one morning thu la was engaged to Slockcnhcim. "I will not believe it," I cried, hopinj Tainsl hope, and roused from despair b ri-. new blow. "I will go and judge fu iyself." My vohemcnce gave tno an unnaturr rengib. 1 dressed rapidly, and in spit f the entreaties of irty faithful valet, wh ieiced truly attached to me, and ha urscd ttte carefully during that tcnibl eek, 1 rushed out and arrived at the doe f the Frankenstein's hotel. 1 asked fu ladame la Countesse first, and when sh as denied, boldly demanded admittanc > see her daughter. The astonished porte ssured mo?and 1 thought 1 saw a lie l is face?that not one of the family was n ome. I turned away in misery, and by one < tose fatalities so common in life, Stockei: eim at that moment loung. d listlessly u| bowed stiflly to bim, and crossing lb reet, watched him. He wa9 adintllet nd there was now no doubt. Thai day I lay in a fearful 6tato. Fu ours I whs unconscious. 1 was afterward >1 d the doctor had come and pronounce io in danger. I knew it well mvself. It so powerless, so down-stricken, tLat >ul.l not hope to survivo. Towards night, hewever, I recovered tile. I became conscious, liul 1 lay will ut a movement, with ono hand elretchei pon the counlcrpMiie, cold as ice. Th rst thing I recognised was someihiiij arm beneath this hand. It was the brou uizzle of my dear old dog Ca;sar, who ha alched beside my bed, fearful to distur le. ami now, by that wonderful instiix Inch God gives the dog thai he may h inn's friend, had perceived that I was cor 'ious, and quietly assured me thus of hi resence and love. I tried to speak, and in low, gurglin ninds I bade my valet be kiud lo pot ajsitr. "1 an? dying, Karl," I said. "I know innol live over lo night, You have bee faithful servant, and lo you I leave a rat belongs lo mo iu the way of person; roperty. in return, you must take caro i io dog. Never leave him; promise me yo ill not. And?and when I aiu gonoou must write home and tell them all." I could say no more, for 1 felt death w: ealing fast upon ine. The man bent over ine, and wept liko did amid his promises. Then came the awful thoughts of doall rum what a life of careless worldliness \vj passing into eternity. I had been ga_ lditTerciit, thoughtless. I had lived f< le world, and with it. How many a vu r sin, which I had once thought trivia ow reproaching mo with its glaring wicl lines*; and as eternity seemed to open uj n mo, and the awful judgment threateuei ow vain, how wicked did all my life seen .ven that treasure, that one thought I 'hich I had now long devoted my who earl and soul, was a trifle, a folly, a van f before God and that awful awakening, ras too weak to pray?I could only dre* -and gradually my thoughts grew din ler. My memory passed. I fell that li 'as going from me. It was dreadful. it struggled to keep it. I drew a long brentl: I- It was in vain. Tlie breath cniuo quid and thick: I fell it growing Weaker am e weaker. My head, my brain seemed t e melt even, and then the last breath rattle* ?, Up through my throat, and I was?dead. j. * * ? * * s You nsk me what were my sensations h I death. I had none. If death bo what y suffered, or rather underwent, then the sou it must bo nsloep or unconscious. I knot * not. I am a christian, and not a Sadducet a and yet that strange experience has a righ f to have shaken my faith. >t What I did feel, howover, when feelin; r returned, I will tell you. At first it was a i. icy coldness, far surpassing auy winter ciii! that you can imagine; no outer cold, but il complete absence of warmth, within as wel II as without, even in the breath of my nos trils. Still I felt il most in my hands an s feet. My next sensation was one of utte : powerlessness, and that too of will as wel it as of muscle. 1 lay?I was unconscious c s existence?but there was no thought in in il mind, no movement in my body. My heat inay have beat, probably it did so, but a knew it not. I scarcely even felt ihe breatl h pass through my open month, and as mucl as I did feel was cold and heavy. I say , was conscious; but that was all. I migli f, have been dead. This might hare bee i. the grave. I know not. All thought?a it memory?was gone. .! Then littlo by little my feelings ga>i sharper. 1 felt the cold mote keenly slil I and it was frightful agony. Then, too, 1 felt n strange pain in my stomach, as if i was shrivelled up. v I know not how long I endured this, hn it seemed to roii-e my dormant will, and a ; that returned, the use of my other sense j roturned likewise. My eyes were closer but 1 knew that 1 could see, fur I perceive 1 a weight of dark* ess above the shut licit g 1'iesently, too, 1 grew aware that there \va J something in my right hand; and as m senses grew keener, and the agonv of cul " I.? - ?:?i ' 1 uum ?>v.iivhv^ urliiuiu ?iiii im?nj um>ar;u>U >. my will grew stronger, mv tliouglits rt turuoil dimly, tliougli my uieinory was ul i, -e' Iy gone, and I determined to make a > effort to move. I had no idea thai I wa t dead, for 1 had no memory that I had ere t been alive; but I was conscious of existence and instinct, I suppose, prompted self pre! I' erva'.ion. e My first attempt was to open my eye: and in this I at length succeeded. But Iami r- nothing. All was dark. Only when 1 ha lain for some time, gazing upwards, did ' know that there was a space of dark ai above, ami that 1 was not shut in close. Mv next eflorl was to feel what was i 'I my h md. Whatever it might be, 1 kuei \ j that it was smooth, and somewhat warme v than the icy flesh that held it. '1 hen strove to raise this arm, but in vain. Agai > and again I tried, till suddenly, w ith an nn 1 expected jerk, it bounded up, the inusclt - not being wholly under my will, and as i d diil so, 1 felt s ?mo hut drops fall on m , face. g 1 It was this that saved ine?this, as ) : wore, that awoke iue. These drops brough i i the blood mo:o quickly through my ic< j bound veins and lira wed mo i it t ?> life. The I knew at once that I lo-Id a bottle in in v | hau I, and in my frightful gnawing hui ?> ger, instinct guided it to my mouth, d poured half the contents down into m e throat, and oh! how fearfully they bur net " and yet how completely they restored m< >r It was brandy, and my memory relume e I sufficiently for mo to know that it was to e | Yet I guessed nothing from that. My min j could not do inure than perceive. 1 wn " , too poweile-s to (Iraw an inference. 11 Hut n >w the pi,in was lessened, my bloo i was wanned, I felt that my heart beat. ! was conscious that i was alive. And nov '* , too, though I w is still unable to move, x could feel that I was in some narrow cm 0 ; ing. My feet touched something uprigl ! below them. My aims were laid chtso t ; my side, and my fingers and elbows foun ,r something upright and wooden on eac 3 side. 1 was fiightfully cramped, and llii ^ was a new pain, and a source, too, of a vagu ' fear. I felt my strength returning, an ^ I longed to be free. Vet I could not iuov< I felt as if imprisoned, and this feeling w? a almost worse than the rest. l* I raUed my arm again with an etfiirt, an 1 swallowed some more brandy. Then m 0 sight became clearer, and I discovered ? dim, grey light, as of the morning twiligh '' stealing upon tho darkness. Presently I could more my arms. ^ passed them about my body, and felt number of bra.-,* buttons, and the smool 0 cloth of a coat, and the smoother satin of large embroidered waistcoat. This taugl ls mo nothing. I thought it quite naturu but that was a!!. 1 remembered ootbiu is at all. ,r Then I tried to pass my arms over th wooden casing that held mo, and when 1 had succeeded in doin" so, I found som< P . " thing ciisp and flimsy, which rouiinded m ' of muslin, and something limp and sinoot! k' which my returning memory told ine w? ribbons. 11 I h?ked myself what all this meant~ whether I was alivo 01 dead, dreaming ( awake. In vain I tried to remember run ,H thing about myself: my memory seeine hound up beyound those simple limit " Hut I eould bear it no longer. I made great etFort, ami by the aid of my arm i. raised myself into a sitting posture, is Oil! how dreadful was the scene! I \m v, surrounded hy dead bodies III coffins in evil ry direction, and Corpses, too, not 111 e , natural state for corpses to be in, but dec! il, cd in line clothes, and surrounded wii t- (lowers?sham llowers, made of crape < [> j muslin, and gay ribbons?corpse* in run J, riugo garments. n. i i knew noi what it meant. For win to ininu'.os I gazed in simple unconsciousne le Next to me was an old man with win i- hair, his cheeks sunken in on both sidr I his jaw broken down, n* it were, from L id face; ai.d ho was in the hlue and red ui o- form of a general; and a star?ruooker fe upon his breast; and around his coffin io? 1 and tulip* of every gaudy hue. His ey i. were closed, but on bis face was a look of k paiu. d On the oilier side of tne was a fair girl, 0 of nineteen perhaps. She was in a ball d dress of white; and oh! how that brought my memory back. I remembered ihul 1 had often seen such a dress. I knew not n where or on whom, but iho memory seem1 cd painful to me. il The girl was lovely. Her face was still v round; her white lips parted in a gentle, s, heavenly smile; her while shoulders still >t 6tnoolh, but the young bosom that had once, perhaps, throbbed with love, now g cold, sunken, still. 1 looked long at the n face. It was beautiful: it produced pleasII ure in me. 1 did not remember it, and yet a as I gazed 1 though1. I had seen it sotueII where?in some dream. Them were many i- other bodies, and I stared at them all?at d least all that the dim light allowed me to ir see; hut sudently I shook, shuddered, and 11 trembled. 1 had at last remembered that >f this must be death, and then I knew that y I was leully alive, and the thought of bot ing alive amid the dead was awful. I 1 made a desperate effort, raised myself li on my sinking legs, and crawled from my li coffin. Before ino was a largo glass door. I 1 remembered it must Iks a door. 1 crawlit ed to it iti agony?fearful agony?the pain n of longing to escape, and the impossibility II of doing so from weakness. At last I reached it, and by another effort stood op and v looked out, and in the grev twilight?for I. : such it was?I saw a vast grave yard. Oh! 1 even that sight, all alone as I was, was it cheerful compared with what was behind ' me?the dead. I sought to open the door, t 1 f?-lt and found a handle, but it was useless, is I tried to scream, and my voice fell almost is without sound back into my lungs Yell 1. even its slight sound leriified me. I feared i I lest it should wako some of those bodies i . 1 i i-:?i ? - > ucuiiiu me, nnu tins terror lent nil unnatu* j a rnl forco to my weak, wasted limbs, y I shook llie door with all my might. I J thrust my fi>l through the glass, and then | ), I uttered a wild piercing shriek, s Oh! how terrible was that solitude. The L- sound echoed through the dead house, and n passed over the while, rjuiet tombstones, s and there was no answer. 1 shrieked again r and again, and then, utterly weakened, 1 5, clung almost senseless to the door, i- It seemed an age that I hung there, shrinking close up to escapo the horror bo hind iuo?an age of agony, is At last a light gleamed close by. d Oh! how it cheered me. 1 called for I help, and no longer feared my own voice, n Still there was no answer, but in a moment or two, a figure advanced slowly and cnuti i lioUNly, and, by heaven ! 1 thought it was v , the figure of a dead man?so while, so full ir of dread was the face. It advanced, step 1 by step, holding the light before it high up u with a trembling hand. I cried, but still i- it answered not. 1 cried?"For God's sake !* let mo out. Are you a man oi a corpse!" it lie answered not, but came on slowly, v and 1 could see him tienihle. At last he came almost close up, but stopped and turnit od the light full upon my face. For some it minutes, at least, lie stood thus; and not 5-i knowing who or what ho was, whether n dead or alive, I could only cling to the door V j and gazo at him madlv. i l'reseully I heard a jingling .as of iron, i next a giating in the ioek of llie door, and y then the door was opened, and I fell inscn* I, siblo upon mv face. 3- I [lO 1IE CONCLVDED.] d , ? >.! Dodging a Dun. ^ Some can scent a dun at any distance, IS and dodge him effectively. It is a knack acquired by long experience. If the dun, I however, by his experience, becomes expert, I the dunned stands a slim chance of escnj?e. r, We heard a story the oilier day of old \ 1 i Dr. It , of Portsmouth, which is to the * point, as regards amateur dunning; for ,l there is a wide difference between the aim? teur and tbo professional. ^ Dr. (i was a man of great integrib ty and worth, and his business habits woie ls> ; on the square, exacting every thing that 0 was his own and paying every man his due. lie had a note against a gentleman I of Hampton for some considerable amount, i 14 and wherever he met him the Doctor was ready, noto in hand, for the payment of au | d instalment. It became at last an agoniy zing dread with the debtor about meet a ing the Doctor, particularly at tho time i I, when ttoulilcd with a disease known in the financial parlance as "shorts." But when* | 1 ever he met him tho Doctor's dun would be a anticipated by his debtor's movement for h his pocket book, and frequent payments a were made without seeing the note at all. it He knew that the Doctor was honest and I, that it would be all right, ami several payg menu weiC Urn* blindly made. A great dearth of funJs made hiru more t 0 shy of meeting the Doctor, and as he pass1 cd through the town his eyes wandered in a- all directions to catch a glimpse of his ' e dread, and avoid him if possible, lie sue | i, ceeded for awhile, and out generated the old i is man several limes; but fate docs not always favor the brave, and the Doctor from adts? tant position saw his victim tie his horse to >r a post and enter a store, lie made all the j f baste he could, and entered the store just as id his debtor dodged behind a lice cask. s "Didn't I see Mr. come in here!" a asked the DiCtor. s,"lie did come in here, sir,"said the shop ? 1 keeper, "but he has gone soinowhere now." i? The Doctor said he was not in a hurry, e- and could wait as well as not; ho saw Ins a horse at the door, and thought he would be k back before long, The man remained bid, lii and tho old Doctor waited a long time. >r At last be went out. Shortly after Mr. r- himself went out, and was just stepping upon his wagon when tiie Doctor ie , datled at him fioiu a door way. ?. "Well, Mr. ," said he, "you needn't tu dodge mo any more. That note has been is, paid up these six months, and I have been lis trying to see vou that 1 might pay you ii : back twenty dollar* that you over-paid me." 0* SouTCDt Swxrrx.v*Y9.?Going to Jail es and living on inolasse*. DANTCN'S WIDOW. A romantic story i? told by Spiridon, tbo 1 'atis correspondent of the Boston Athut. S Three or four monthsago, it seems,an hum e ble funeral?humble with the humility of f affluence, not the misery of wretchedness-- li moved from No. 30 liue de Lille to the aiistocralic church Saint Thomas d'Aquin. e Tlie mourning scutcheons bore the cypher D. in silver letters on n black ground, and t bareheaded behind tbo bearpe walked at d mourners Dupin, aine, Baron Dupiu, and li Judge Dupin, of the (Jour dea Complex, k Tbere were uot many persons present, but n nearly all those who were there occupied s scats on the Fiench bench or eininetu po |i si'.ions at the Fiench bar. The deceased ti lady was the relict of he late Baron Du ? pin, Constiller Aluitre of the Cour de Cinj> li t-s, under the first Emperor. For maiiy d years she lived in tho liue de Lille, in those a commodius, old fashioned, aristocratic apart- i merits, which can be found nowhere in a Paris now, except in the Faubourg Saint n (jertnain and in the immediate vicinity of d the Palace iioyale; her residence was fur t< uisbed in the severe style which character u ixed the old Bench of France, and she wu? believed by all jiersons, except those of her r immediate family, to be the descendant of I one of those old families de Parlement so v long the illustration of French history. a Few indeed knew that that gray-haired, ? venerable matron was the young girl of j t> fifteen iinniort*lir?*l in liiiiim r.? ... mio%VIJ %/J UCI lllrtf j I riago with tho terrible Muiitngnard Dan- ; ii ton, two years before he perished by the ll guillotine! It was she! She was the per- ii ton who attracted the tribune from the re- I volutionarv arena to a home ni Arcis-sur v Aubc, whore she awoke his dormant con- e science, enkindled his soul to justice and 1 clemency, and melted his heart into human- v Uy; she was the person who, when her bus- f< band was in the dungeons awaiting the & fatal "li<" which bore his name, replied to n Lucile Desmoulins, who begged her to ap- u peal to Robespierre to spare her husband a i life: "No, I will follow Danlon to the scaffold, but I will not humiliate his memory c before his enemy; if he owed his life to the :i pardon of Robespierre, he would pardon ) me neither in this world nor in the other, v When we parted he bequeathed his honor i to me; I shall restore it to him intact/' c Towards the end of the Consulate the raar- c tied the Baron Dupin, by whom she had I several children, all of whom occupy prom- t iuent positions in France. She bore no > children to Danlon, (though historians as- ' I sett to the contrary.) Danlon had, how- ? ever, two children by bis first marriage; ,? they still live at Arcis-aur-Aube. Damon's t name was never mentioned in her house.? 1 Phila. Nation. > < Facilities fob Committing Cmjmb.? | The New York Police Gazette, speaking of t the late arrest of bnrglars iu that city, i i S-V*: " 1t l4The facilities which the thieves of New | c York have for committing crime are almost t beyond belief. Their organization is com- ; , plete. It searching Moore's house after hi? escape, the police discovered a number of j confidential letters which he had received t from ah parts of the country. These letters { , it would be highly injudicious to publish, , as they implicate respectable merchants out i 1 West, and parties in this city, who are sup , posed to be beyond suspicion. These let- j < ters show the facility atTorded thieves in | disposing of their property. There were f also letters from the owner of a noted | "fence" in Tenth street. I "In perusing these letters carefully, it t was also discovered that this gang, with , which Moore was connected, had median- t ics and laborers in thei* employ, who fur * uisited them with a full and accurate des- , cription of the hou-es they were at work , upon. There weio also found a number of , diagrams of stores and dwellings of an in [ numerable number of houses in this city;1, how the various apartments weie laid out; ( and, if a store, w here the safe or silks were deposited; if a dwelling hou^e, where the mon y or silver plate was located. Who! furnished the thieves with these diagrams} j ( There is not* a store or house worth break- ; , ing into but is as well known to the bur I ^ glais as the owners themselves. Even the j ( very locks on the doors are known, yet no ( impreKsion has been inwde wuh wax. Who gives information of lliia character? New ( \ ork is at the mercy of thieves; no police, however effective, can afford adequate pro- | lection." j | Why the Cows Gave no Milk.?"It \ is very strange,' said the wife of a farmer, ' in the environs of Paris, "that BricHo, the ' best cow on the place, ha? given litilo or 1 no milk for two days." "Then," says hei ' husband, "we must sell Brindle." So the 1 cow was sold forthwith. As soon as the < animal was gone, the Black cow ceased, in 1 her turn, to give iniik, and was told also. ; 1 Another was bought, and a second and a 1 illiid, to rep'aco '.lit* first two, ami ihe?e al ' so immediately became sterile, whilst, to the i ' farmer's great astonishment, both I3rid and Black, as removed to the fauns of their ' new owners, re-commenced giving milk in 1 as great quantities as ever. A neighbor was consulted, who gravely gave it as hi* opinion that the cow stable was bewitched, but fortunately the farmer was not such a fool as to credit a story so preposterous. There must be some reasonable cause, and be was determined to find it out. lie com- j menced a strict watch, but had discovered nothing of any consequence; when, the dav i before yesterday morning, bis wife, upon j I visiting the stable to milk the cows as usual, by accident arrived at a solution of the mystery. Two snakes, who bad wound themselves around the cow's leg*, were qui e.ly sucking the milk! The woman attempted to kill the reptiles and succeeded in doing so, but not until one of them had hi.ten her anklo and left a wound, from tlio effects of which *he is still suffering. | I he physician attending l.er pronounces the bile to be that of a viper and exceeding j ly veaorr.ou*. Why is a baulky horse like an organ! ; Because his leading features ate bis "si^ps." | w The Camel and the Needle's Eye. Si. Matthew, xix. 24. Si. Mxik, jc. 25. ,-gw^' * it. Luke, xviii. 25. "It is eHsier for a camI 'o go through the eye of a needle, than jr a ricii man to enter into the kingdom of leaven." I can scarcely remember the time in my arlv youth, when litis text did not excite iy curiosity nntl wonder. In the days o( l>e Evangelist, as well as our own, nee les were of various sis> s. There are the irge needles, such as St. Paul used in tua ;ing tents, and such also, as we know, are iow employed in making the broad sails of i>me gieal admiral. There are the finest mint* of steel, used in ancient and modern noes, in the most delicate kinds of needlework, fit to deck the person of a Queen at er coronation. The cattiel is a beast of l>ur* en, tuuch used in eastern countries. It is bout the size of the largest t-X, with one or wo bunches oil i's back, with long neck nd legs, und with feel adapted to the hot nd sandy desert. Such is the general un< ers landing of the two more prominent er ins of the passage of the Holy Writ, now inder coti&ideialion. Some have supposed (hat a slightly raied reading in the original word, which is ranslatcd "camel," might be adopted, by which the phrase would be made to mean, "cable," such as is u?ed in anchoring hips in the roadstead. Then the text would ead, "It is easier for a cable to go through lie eye of a needle," <kc. But the former i probably the most correct reading, for lie w hole figure seems to have beeo a max* in quite prevalent in the East. Among lie Babylonians, in whose country eleplian a were not uncommon, the phrase was, "an Icphant passing through a needle's eye." hit the elephant was a stranger in Judea, ibile the camel was well known; and there* jre the latter was used by tlio Jews, in* , i r -- ?- - - ' - icau ui iiiu lunuer, 10 give torce 10 ttio nixim. Obviously the object of this form f speech was to express a thing absolutely m possible. But I have met with another explanation f this striking figure, which to say the least idds to i!? beauty and force. All the imrortant cities oi the East, in ancient limes, vere surrounded by high and massivQ rails; and so they are, as tho modern travillor informs us, at the present day. At :erlain points, these walls were perforated y large passage-ways, for the exit and euranee of the inhabitants. These passagevnys in times of peace, were open by day, .?ui at night they were closed by massivo rates, capabie of resisting any common as. ault. Now, by the side of theso largo onrance?, were very much smaller ones, used ty foot passengers, and by those who had >ccasion to go forth, or enter tho city by light. They were called "the needle's eye." Liord Nugent, an English traveller of moUrn limes, when at Hebron, was directed o go out by "the neodlo's ere," that is, by he small side gate of the city. The camel :an go through the needle's eye, but with liflk-ulty, and hardly with a full load, nor vithout stooping. I think this expresses the just idea of the lavage, "It is easier for a camel to go ! rough tho needle's cyo than for a rich nan to enter the gate of heaven." It is lot impottible for a rich man to entor teaveu, for wo may believe there are many dready in the paradise of God who con-e:rated their wealth to the service of their Redeemer, and trusted in him always for alvation. But just as the catne! must be reieved of pait of his load, l>efore lie can pass htoimh the "ni edle'? eve." so the rieh man iiu*t divest himself of large portions of hi* vcahli, in the walks of benevolence, in orler to enter the irate* of glory. Our Saviour ieem? to have reference to the name idea when he says, "Strait w the pate.n And is tho camel was conit>elled to sloop in orler to enter by the low and narrow gate of lie city, so must the rich man learn hunilitp. if he would "see the Lord," "in tho ullnea* of joy-."?Christian Glass and its Phknomena.?Tho elasicitv of glass exceeds that of almost all >thcr bodies. If two glass balls are tltado o strike each other at a given force, the reoil, by. virtue of their elasticity, will bo icarly e.jual to ll eir original impetus. Connected w ith its brittlent*s are soraevery lingular facts. Take a hollow sphere, with t hole, and rt<>p the hole with the finger so ?-? to pievi-nt the external and internal air Yom communicating, and the sphere will 1v to pieces by the mere heat of the hand. Ve?els made of gla-s that have heen sudlei.lv cooled possess itie curious property ?f l?eing able to resist hard blows given to litem from without, hut will be instantly thiverod by a small particle of flint dropped nlo their cavities. This propeMv seems to j?*pcnd upon the comparative thickness of the bottom; the Uvicker the bottom is the more certainty of breakage bv this experiment. Some of these vessels, it is slated, have resisted the stroke of a mallet given with -sufficient force to drive a nail into wood; ami heavy bodies, such as musket halls, pieces of iron, bits of wood, jasper Mono, etc., have been cast into them from r\ height of two or tluee feet without any effect, vet a fragment of flirt not larger than a pea dropped from three inches, height ha^ ?i. o _ uanuu nielli IIJ* Wosokrfci Growth of Iowa.?Gov. Grimts, or Town, in his Annua! message; make (ho State's indebtedness #128,000, available revenue #240,000; received during the year #200,000; paid out #249,000. Tho population of the StAte in 1830 amounted to only 10.534; up to June, 1854, it increased to 326,014, And in June lest, numbered 603.025 souls. At the present moment it probably reaches 600,000. The Assessable property in the State in 1851 was valued at #23,404,550; in 1855 at #106,895,300, and in 1856 at *164,104,, 413. "Have you Goldsmith's Greece?" asked a gentleman, on entering n book etoce. "So. sir; but they have some excellent bear's oil in the next door," replied lire new couri ter boy.