The Lancaster ledger. (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, July 06, 1853, Image 1
$2 PER ANNUM. CHAAlSlTHARY SWAY,TY S WL CI^I^V^'
IX ADVANCE ]
. NEUTRAL IN POLITICS?DEVOTED TO LITERARY, COMMERCIAL AGRICULTURAL, SCIENTIFIC, GENERAL AND LOCAL INTELLIGENCE.
VOLUME 11. . LANCASTER, 6 ft, SOUTII CAROLINA WEL)NE,SDAY MORNIN(;. .ir[JV a. K,; NIMISKIMT
^ ^ ( | She turned udoii him a look of recoumi- ! tho citv of N?\v OrlexiiR dan lmn?? t w.. i ?
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WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR '
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THE PURCH0
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. . CHAPTER XII.
WE have hitherto conducted you reader,
through regal halls and princely
mansion*, where the inuia'ea
revel in luxurious ease mid comfort, so far
as the abundance of wealth can procure.
We have never yet been forced to chill
your heart by describing to you iho scene
w here poverty, ifcstitutiou and want exists
in all itsappaling forms.?where suffering,
disease and degradation is realized in itmost
liorH >le deformity; an I now, when
compelled to do so, we are loth to take
you where all those are blended together
i.i terrible and heart rendingdulail,?where
cold, cheerless, friendless poverty, leads
out a wretched existence,'and w here death
is regarded by the sufferer as a welcome
messenger, if you.would lookyjuion it
wii *vmii h summering sensation?without
h tjirill of fiorror passing through your
frauie; you must.put an extra covering of
wonllv coldneaa ami indifference around
, yotirliea>%; and ateel your eye with nil
the atony pililcssnes* tlint innrL* the iiiiiu
of Hinnw', or the heart lean uiiaer.
' kin a* ??url> hour of tli*iiav. The hum
shines brightly, reveals the wretched exterior
#nd decayed appearance of a row of
old frame house*, in the most dilapidated
jarrtion of the city ??f New Orleans; each
one looking aa if they would crumble and
fall to the ground, it they only had room 1
to do so. It is a narrow street; a filthy, 1
sickening look ngplace, where ragged and !
nv*wra'??e *ookmg brat* are rolling in the
and, and where men ami women,of every
clime ami nation on the globe, with their
tattered irarnient> ami l.-.i-.i.-o I??-h n*ar.\ ,
at you ui I'vrrv turn ; nil presenting so |
dire a picture of extreme |K?verly, tlint no
language can describe it.
Hut vv?* enter one of these dismal alwwles,
it is a iwi? ulnrv Iioum-, and the lower Hours
are tenanted by the lowest and most degraded
of earth's taiug* ; but wo pass on
to the second t!< or, and turning to the
right, we enter n room nbout twenty feet
*<puire. This r<*>tn is lighted by two nn
curtained wi.dows, the blight and joyous
light of the sun, vividly contrasting with
the dreary and eheo. less appearance of tin
chaiul>er. There is no ea-jiet on the Hour:
a small pine table occupies the centre of
the room, ami two lia! -broken eh airs ar<
standing near it; a small cup-board stnmh
in one corner, ami contains a few articles
of croekery, but none of the bus enanee of
life; not even the crumbly ftajinoi t- <'a
list meal; a so) t try led iti the opposite
corner w ith a few articles of Covering, complete
the furniture of this desolate chamber.
Not an article of comfort, nor a single
cheerful object meets your eye; every
thing about it, both animate and mammale
tells you a mournful story?it tells
you of tatter days passed in ease and luxury?of
disappointed hopes, wrecked heppim-ss
ami hitter trials, am) of the last sad
drama now taing enacted amidst desolation
and woe, of the deep?*t dye.
Near the hearth on the hare floor, is
seited a little girl |M-r1ia|?s seven years of
age. whose surpassing In-iiiiiy tills you
with admiration, while you drop a tear of
sympathy tor tho hard fate which her
present po-ition, and meagre hut cleanly
apparel, evidently implies is her*. With
m needle in her hand she is engaged in
mjnding the rents in a tatteml'gannonl,
J ,.:i? - .1- ? ' "
r w mo one null cover* her little
pjrso", and M she In-n.U over her work
wiih patient industry, her smooth six I
wtvy cliesnut. curls flow around ?n?'k
and shoulders, that are as clean and while
n< th ?ugh she had lieen reared with all
ths tenderness srxl care that ease and
luiury child lieatow. Her features are
beautiful, but pale and thin, and wear
none ??f that happy and rareless expression
that we are accustomed to see in tno face*
of little children. But in it* stead, on
?ery lineament you read thought, suffering,
ami care; melancholy to find in ohi
and time-tried people, hut terrible to trace
on the l?mw* and cheeks of little ones,
scarce entered on life's journey.
Lying oil t're leal that wo hare a'ro idy
mentioned, is a slight ami wasted form
that soetn* but the shadow of a living person.
The faeo is pale and wan, anl th*
a 114II mouth ha* lines of docp and f a tid
suffering gra et? around It; ?hc nose is
pinched, and the broad brow, efTm and
wldtened by the sweep of sorrow's finger;
the tyn nre foil of nil-nt agony, and lite
wboU iaam www en *xpre**i<m of unspoken,
lonj^endurMi angumk. Beauty, nuv
nd pure in etylc bad been her*; ?uHering
awr poverty could u<* destroy its trace*.?
It peered out through the wavv hair now
ftf >& ' felling Around ? neclc and (maoin et'dl
h . .
iuu ?>tonj.
HIE " LANCASTER LEDGER."
u mm:
R,SED
BEAUTY.
CONNORS.
white and lovely?it gleamed through the
bright eyes, now sunken in their sockets,
?-It is visible in the mould of her features
n??w calm and sorrowful, and in the turn
of the hand ami arm now withered by suffering
and diseases.
It is evident that death will soon claim
her as its victim. Her eyes rest uj?on the
little girl with a silent, mournful, agonizing
expression as she seems to |H*er into the
dim future, and thinks of the lonely condition
and uncertain fate of that tit le
child. At length she calls:
-Alice !"
The little girl bounds to her side ami
cries :
44You are awake now mother; wont we
have breakfast.' 1 am so hungry !"
Her mother's arms arc thrown around
In-r as she answers :
"You must try and Ihj patient my darling
; the last penny is gone, but perha|>s
your father may eoine home to-day."
"Hut mother, father has l?een gone a
week, and may uotconiw; then what will
tre do I"
" Try and l?ear it n little longer mv child ;
?urely lie will not l?e gone much longer."
Vint mother, we are starving !"
'I I ?* sutlerer answered by h look of
I mournful, consuming, intense agony.
| The child continued! "If you w ill only
| let me beg mother, as the other children
j do. I limy get something for us."
This idea seemed to thrill to the very
soul of the mother. The idea that her
child should beg! Her emaciated frame
w ithered with n more terrible agony than
any that had yet consumed her as she
cried :
| "Never! Never!!"
| . Hut w hat would she do I For herself,
I she cared not, her 'mum were few, but
' would she let her child starve f These
thought* seemed to pas* through her
mind, us she gazed itjMin lite pale lace of
he bttle girl. Al length she said :
"Alice! the baker that you have been
a? cm touted to buy from, may let you have
a loaf of bread for once without the money.
Try him, my dear."
The starving child needed no second
bidding, but as she reached the door her
iiolhcr culled her back, am! throwing her
arms around her neckprera-d her in a
l< ng, affectionate embrace, as if conscious
that, life was ebbing last within her own
frail laxly.
1 ho little i/irl ni.vv Itfimulnl )..?
7? ^ ? **,v
?tair* into tlie Mrcet, ami wniketi an fant
:iH her little limbs could carry her until
sho reached the baker's shop that was
situated in a part of the city where everything
wore n more gay and lively aspect,
than around her own dreary habitation.
Her little heart had not thought of a rebuff
from the baker, but when she told
him that she had no money, he in a surly
tone commanded her to leave the shop,
lie had nothing to give to beggars.?
Shrinking and frightened by the rough
tones of the hardened wretch, she glided
back into the street, and for a few moj
menu Mood upon the pavement; the
tears streaming down her pale and s'lnkeu
cheeks.
Her last hope writ* crushed, ami the little
girl was starving!
An she was standing not knowing where
to go, she was accosted by a tall young
man who was gaiiug upon her with ?look
of intense interest:
"What is the matter my little girl, why
do you weep so P
She looked up, and with the instinct of
rllillllllMld ItllfW tll>t liu I.U.I ?l?
- ? ? ?>-??v i.w iiivm t? % mni
could sympathise with her * nth-ring*, a*
she AUsWrred :
"Oh, sir, we have had nothing to eat
for t*odaya, and mother is too sick to
work now."
"Have you no one else to depend on
but your mother ; no father or brothers P
1 '"fatherhardly everitlaya with ns now;
tie haa'nt been home for a week."
"What i* your name!"
"Aliee P
Tlie gentleman turned a shade paler,
but after a moment he asked again :
"Alice who |*
"Alice Winters P
'the little girt did not notice that he
leamil agaimt a post for support, l?ut con
qu< ring his agitation, and after reflecting a
moment, he said :
"If ftttf notka* UMffuftns ?Hi( ti. want
I will relieve her; will you show mo where
you live r
Oil yea air, If you will go."
They walked rapidly, and were aoon ia
the room of the dying woman, Tb#young
man gazed without speaking wean that
corps* like feee, that white and almost ,
puleeleaa bosom 1
I o
tion ; her lips were open and one solitary
word escaped them, but in that word, wai
concentrated all the agony of her soul;
the last flickering light of life was dyinj?
within her, as she repeated in low and
mournful accents:
"Horace! Horace!! Horace ! ! 1"
It is indeed Horace Edgcrton who
stands before her, and all the pity and
j commiseration of his uoble heart is (teaming
from his eyes, as he looks upon the
| corpse of his first love ! The once beautiful
and lovely Alice Wilson !!
She had been reared up amidst affluence?all
the comforts and luxuries of life
had been hers ; but this once lovely being,
who had moved in the stately halls of her
father's dwelling, the envied of the fairest
of her sex, has died in poverty and want
and her withered corp.se is sheltered by
the poorest hovel of a populous city !
Can you look upon the picture without
shuddering ? Do you feel it in all its terrible
details ?
She bail listened to the voice of the
tempter, but in her dying hour she remembers
the object of her first love !
. ClIAPTKIt XIII.
fpT is midnight! The night pr?*ceedmg
the morning in which occurred the
death of Mrs. Witileis.
A dim light i-t seen hurtling through
the windows of it low triune house?u twostoried
hiiilding |>:titi(?.*< 1 red, and it in from
tin upper room that the light proceeds.?
This interesting habitation is situated lait
a few squares from the dismal quarter
mentioned in the last chapter, and as we
grope our way along the dark and tinlighted
streets, we are not altogether free
from certain misgivings, for we know that
in this locality, murder and crime is of
dailyjpecurreucv. But we reach this red
hiiilding, and hung over a window of the
lower story is seen al*Uirty red curtain, and
by the dim light thai is set behind it, we
read in (laming characters the significant
winds " Bah Room." We puss through
this filthy " three cent doggery," and ascend
through the darkness a creaking
stair.'Hse that leads to the second lloor,
and as we enter the room in which the
dim light seen from a distance is hurtling,
a shuddering lenaation not altogether devoid
of fear ereeps over us, for we are in
tin* mid>?t of ili" iiwmo .-ill..;... ... ? i
... ,..V -.'V?V THUIIir ll?VlllpM|||l|
?tho ii)t*?t murderous looking set of liuiiihii
beings that ever gloated over a deed
of crime, or drew the blade of the assassin.
This motley group is composed of men
of every age and every clime ; tho dark
half-bred, half-savage, and the purest Kuropean
extraction mingle together on
terms of the most perfect equality?French,
Spanish, English, Italian, are all spoken
in the same breath. It would seem that
the different nations of tho earth were here
represented to contest the supremacy of
their skill in the art of gambling ; for at
this tliey are engaged in all its variety of
forms. The countenances of nnst of these
men aro swarth and savage-looking?
tierce dark eyes gleam from tinder the
broad brim hats, while both beard and
moustache grow wildly over their faces.
It is plain that this class do not carry
"concealed" weapons; they wear a waistU?lt
containing a pair of pistols, the butts
slicking out, and a long Spanish knife is
hi ng obliquely frotn their left side. There
are other classes; sailors with their broad
well knit frames, inured to fatigue and
hardship, and the half-refined rowdy, with
loafers of the lowest description.
Seated at a table covered with an oily
groen cloth, is a tall rough looking n an.
with a dark forbidding countenance, and
from the air of nuthorit v which he asotincs,
and a certain degTee of respect ahown hiin,
it would aeern that he is the principal pro
prietorof thise uhliahment The yellow,
shining gold, is piled up at his elbow, in
quantities that would make the uvea of the
miser swim with joy. The ** Bank" is
evidently "in luck."
Among this crowd we discover some
two or three persona, who though their
dress or manner does not hetoken it, yet
from their language, the smallncss <>f their
hand*, and a certain degree of superiority
about their person, it is evident that they
are of genteel origin. <>f tills class theni*
one who particularly attracts our attention.
Ho ?s seated in moody silence?in
a kind of gloomy rcvefie?his face has a
pale and haggard ap|>oararicc,and his eyes
mil restlessly intlo-ir sockets. Something al?ot
him tell* of better days,and the idea is
lowly crecpitig over ns that we have seen
him before?we approach nearer; and
?..P WW mv im *11 mnt Wfl lire IKM
mistaken?we recognite llenry Winter* 1
A thousand thought* |>ani through our
mind, as we gate into tlie faee of tlii* n?.w
mi*erahle looking Wing. We think of
the time when we mw him in the city of
\* " ' ; the handiiotne. sparkling, fascinating
ami wealthy young Winter* who
mored in the highest cire'e*?who graced
many a 1*aI1 room scene?who waa the
hottorvd guest of many a select party, and
who won the heart of the beautiful Alice
Wilson I We think too of tbs time
that we saw him at 8 's; th? proprietor
of tha| splendid and fashionable saloon,
honoring him as the mom farored of
ll^t aa'nt i'i imaf A* ~ n?^ ? -
7* ? v.*.*..!*, Mm we contnwt
that time with the prodcnt, when w? m
him MM "hanger Oft*' in one Of the
Wme* and omm dogvoaod helb of which
< .jjf
- ( scan him inoro closely, and we see ihat
> | his features arc sallow and bloated?his
I eyes are ghastly and blood-shot?his
hands shako and tremble as if palsied by
i "g^j his whole framo is nervous in
the extreme. Wo know it is not a natural
excitement that convulses him, and
i the conviction is forced uj?on us, that these
shnknig, twitching and nervous sensations
?that wild, ghastly and glaring look, are
i premonitory symptoms of that most fearful
of all affections?that horribly damning
disease where the victim is given in this
life, a foretaste of what awaits him in the
next?w here the imps of his satnnic majesty
congregate around his lowly couch,
and laugh to scorn the mortal agony that
consumes liitu I
Winters sat unnoticed in this ruffianly
crowd !
At length, near the hour of day-light,
when most of the party weie getting tired
of the sport, a Imld, dashing looking rowdy
slapped him familiarly on the shoulder
as lie said :
\\ liat is the matter Winters ? Why
tin* <1?I don't von plnv !"
"I May!"
< "Ves p'ny! Aro you dreaming ? Not
broke, elt I"
Winters answered only by a stare.
"lb-re," continued the other, good luiinourediv,
thrusting a five dollar bill int<
bin hand, "take this; I have been lucky
to-night, and can very well lend you a V.
Try ; perhaps you may win."
Winter* carelessly walked up to the
table and stake* his "V," and in a few
moments it was doubled. The next minute
it waa doubled again, and a third time
he tried and waa successful. "Fortune
favors me," he exclaimed,
sweeping his winnings from ti e board,
"I'll trv again."
He did try again; day-light dawned,
the crowd had "dispersed, and these two
men were still at the table. Winters en
tered with spirit Into thtr frame ; his passions
are aroused, and ere the sun is an
hour high, he is the possessor of several
thousand dollars. his good fortune
forsakes him, and in the course of
another hour he is without a dollar.
"Here, I stake this," said he drawing
from his l?osom a small locket containing
the portrait of a young and beautiful girl.
His companion took it and gazed earnestly
at the faeo so faithfully pictured, as
he asks;
"Whose portrait is this!"
"My Wife's I"
The man laid it on tho 'able, mid leaning
bis face on a hard brown hand, says
as he cl jsely * -an* the face before him :
I'll i.Ui- ft.r .1 i?
"I otferod yon the portrait if&elf!" says
Winters* almost fierce!}-.
"Ah, tliat is of hut little value U me,
hilt against the original, I will stake one
thousand dollars."
There is a fierce struggle in tho heart
of II? nry Winters; a struggle between
honor and crime, llut the latter prevails.
The otter is accepted, am] for two hours
nothing breaks the stillness save the rustling
of the cards, and the suppiested
breathing of the excited players At the
end of that time, llenrv Winters is the
hner. Ilia trembling limb* can scaicely
aup|K>rt him as he risen from the table;
his countenance ia truly frightful to look
upon. The gambler pays no atention to
this, but says to Winters as the latter prepares
to leave the room :
"To-night, I will claim my winnings."
"Ah, to-night! tonight!!" yelled the
dishonored wretl., *? he ruahed headlong
from this den of infamy.
lie walks with rapid, but tottering steps
in the uireetion or In* own dwelling; he
reels like a drunken man as lie walks up
the creaking atHtrcnse to litw own cliaiiiImt.
lie pause* oil the landing as lie heaps
strange voices in his wife's room ; they
are paying the last sad offices to the dead.
He slugger* in, and U>? ii.-.t object that
meet* his gtue is the corpse of his wife !
lie tries to approach it, hot as if in a
dream, he is transfixed to the spot; his
yes glare as though they arc starting 1
f'oiu their sockets; lie gripe* the fle*h on
hi* chest until hi* nails are stained xrith 1
hlnod ; the vein* of his temples swell and
hoi I, as though they would hurst their '
narrow boundary, and deluge his hrain
with living fire. This lusted for several
moments, then uttering one loud, terrible,
unearthly yell, he falls heavily to the
floor.
One hour later, and his limU are as
cold and stiff as those of his murdered
wife! '
??? i
CHAPTER XIV.
WK now leave thia metropolis of the I
Rontli, where we have witneased (
two Mich painful scenes, like the ,
denouement of a *?d and terrible trage- |
ilv, ami paaa on to the city of L- , the ,
theatre njx??? which wae enacted the firat
part* of Uie drama. ' \ , !*d o ' |
Ae we paea through it* gey ami populous
thorough fare* pa* associations both
pleaa mt and painful crowd upon u*. We <
, think of thoae whom we mat here a few {
{earn back, aoma of litem by virtue of fbl- i
tping the dictate* of noble, generous ami i
virtuous heart*, are slill living contented
and happy ; and of other* who choM a
different path, who ateeped in crime, rrtfeerj
and gink, have net a fearful and just
retttbwtion. We drop ataartotha memo- }
ry or one, upon whom .ve liave often gazed
with feelings of pleasure and delight; who
was adorned by all the (rids that Cto?l and
naturweould bestow, but who was led by
the arts of the seducer, and is now a cold
and silent tenant of the tomb! NVe reach
that princely mansion on lVarl street,
where all seems joyous and glad from
without, hut strange voices greet our ears
from within ; we pass on to that more retired
quarter where we have met those of
our friend', in whuin we have seen so
much to love, respect ami admire, and as
we enter that stately dwelling, our heart
boats ' for joy to see the quiet peace and
happiness that reigns within.
Mrs. Ed go r ton is still here, her broad
brow a little more furrowed by age, ami
her dark hair is streaked with gray, hut
she presents that same calm, placid and
sensible appearance that we have so often
looked upon with feelings of the highest
respect and venerati n.
Kosnlie, too is here ; the gentle Rosalie
whom we admired in the Hr>t bloom of
womanhood; whom wo still admire as the
he utifnl tnatmn, and who is none the less
neat, tidy and happy, than in the days of
her maidenhood. Two or three little ones
arc playing around her, their innocent
pr <ttie is hoard throughout the room, ami
in their clean and tid v appearance, is seen
the maternal euro of the mother.
\\\. .1 : . ? I ' '
nj?'?u mis vm 11 ii 11 picture oi
lomestie bliss, and all our melaneholv
(i-eling* are ?.lis|??*)lo<I; but we are interrupted
by the voice of Rosalie, a* she says :
"Mother, do you know that I ought t
be particularly happv today ?"
' Why my dear, because it is your birth
day !w
"Yes, it is the 29th of August, and you
know that is also the anniversary of my
marriage."
"Seven years from to-day; how many
changes have taken place since then !"
"If you remember* that was also the
vear that Horace and Alice Wilson were
to msrrv."
"Yes, I was hist thinking of it. and
though I dreaded the effect, that dtsap- I
poiutmcnt would have upon Horace's after
life, jet I believe trow that it was all '
ordered by a wise 1'rovideue.e for the best.
I lis lc ters of laie have been verv cheerful."
"I wonder what detains him in New
Orleans I"
"I don't know ; Edward toM me yesterday
that he had seen one of the officers
f the ? regiment, who left lb-race in j
the city, and said that lie appeared more
gay and lively than he had ever seen him,
but spoke nothing of coining home"
"I cannot understand it, and should ,
think that after three years absence, he
would l?e very anxious to get back to 1
L "
"Doubtless, business detains him ; but
here is Edward, and I think from his J
countenance that he has some news to tell i
us."
Edward Manly, now entered the room !
with an open letter in his hand, and l>e-!
fore taking his seat, lie exclaimed :
"i now understand the nature t' llor-!
ace's tedious business in New Orleans.? |
Hern is a letter from hint, in which he
t*l!? me that ho is about to he married."
"Married!" exclaimed l>oth ladies in a
breath.
"Yes, married, is there anything so extraordinary
in that I"
"Not und r .?rJinarv circumstances, certainly;"
said Mrs. Edgcrton, "hut this
rather took me by surprise, and 1 am truly
glad to hear it provide 1 he has met with
a partner that is worthy of him."
"I should think that he had, from his
description of her. but hero is his letter
that can speak for itself."
"Who is it that he is to marry I" asked
Rosalie.
"A Miss Cleveland," replied Edward,
"and froin all the circumstances connected
with the matter, I think that it savours a
little of the romantic."
From this letter which Mrs. Edgerton 1
now proceeds to read, wo take the lila-rty
of making a short extract:
"I can now speak and think calmly of
a matter that 1 once fully lielieved had '
utterly destroyed every inducement that
could make life desirable or even endura- 1
ble, and I almost shudder when I think of
the brink of ruin np?n which I stool, and
into which my lacerated filings would
have prompted me to plunge, when Im?lieving
that all the happiness of my life
had passed away forever. If any one
had said to me in this crisis of my life,
tie day will come when you will bless life I '
and be happy, I should have In-anl him j
wnn me mil lie ot (inul't, or the anguidi ot 1
incredulity; and yet how earnestly nhould
[ now blexA the life, that wilt enable me
to exp'-rieiioe thai happine**, which I contemplate
with feel inn* of iiiex|?re?*ibl* do
light. In the darkext momenta of life,
there in alwayaxometbing to look forward
to beyond, and it m only thoae who have I
felt the dee|>eat grief, that are able to appreciate
aupremo happinene.
"It i* only a few dayaaince I witnexaed 1
th? interment of both Mr. and Mr*. Win- I
ler*. who it aeema bail lived bero *inoe
their lemovai from L - -, ami who di.nl
under the moat wretched and truly pittabit
ciw-untxtancea. Their only child, an
intercxting little girl near aeven year* of
age, T have taken under my charge and
it u Mrs. Cleveland's intention i
to adopt her. |
"I i a few weeks, I will h ive tin* pleasure
of presenting to you the charming
Kiln as my blushing bride, and I think
that you will agree with me in sa.ing.
that she is ali that the most vivid ideal
fancy could portray."
Three weeks from the date of this letter.
Horace arrived in L with his bride, '
the beautiful, atfee innate and lovely Ella
Cleveland ; now Mrs. Edgerton.
Reader! our tale is done; and if in its
perusal you have felt the force of the truths
thai we have feebly en cavored to illustrate.
we will feel amply reinunera'ed fortius
leisure moments employed in bringing
it Iref. ro you. We l?eg rou to regar-1 with
leniency the unfledged produotioti of one.
who. has no pretentions to literary fame: J
and we take lenvo of you with the assn
ranee that should we ever nreet again, it j
shall be with an effort more worthy of
your notice and kind consideration.
Minus ^tinuo, '/:t. j
The Vatican.
This word is often used, but there are ;
many who do not understand its ini|M>rt.
The term refers to a collection of buildings
on one of the seven hills of Rome,
which covers a space of 1*200 feet in
li-tigth and 1000 feet in breadth. It is
built on the spot once occupied by garden
of the cruel Nero. It owes its origin to
the llishop of Rome, who in the early
part of the sixth century, erected a hum*
Mo residence on its site. About 'ho year
1 150. Pone Eiurenius rebuilt h <>n;i <rr:nnl
sca'c. Innocent II., :i few years afterwards,
gave it up as at lodging to Peter
II., King <>f Arrngon, 130o, Clement V.,
at the instiga ion of the King of France,
removed tlm I'ap .I Sec from Iloinu to
Avignon, when the Vatican remained in
a condition of obscurity and uegleet for
more tliau 70 years. 15ut soon after the
return of the pontifical court to lhuue, an I
event whieii had I so earnestly prav- 1
ed t'? r l?y the poor Petrarch, and which |
tin IIy took place in 1.17'), the Vatican I
was put into a state of repair, again en
largo I, and it was thenceforward eonsid
ered as the regular palace and residence
of the l'opes, who, one after another, ad
!e?I fresh buildings t ? it. and gridudh
enriched It with antioiiities, statues, pie
tuns and hooks, until it hccatnc the richest
deposit) IV ill ill!* world.
The library of the Vatie .il was com- j
ineiiecd fourteen hull lied years ago. It !
contains 400.0<l0 in.i'Uis -vipts among j
which are some bv I'litiv, St. l ie mas.
St.(diaries 1 lorromee, ami manv ll?'hrew,
Syriae, Arabian, ami Armenian l?il>!es.
The whole of tie immetie buildings
composing the Vatican, are filled with
statues, found heuealh the ruins of ancient
Koine; with paintings by the masters, and
with curious medals ami antiquities of al
most every description. When it is
known that there have been exhumed
more than 70 000 statues from the ruined
temples and Palaces of Home, the reader j
can form some idea of the riches of the
e .:
? illicitII.
The Vatican will bo ever hel l in vener- I
tion by the student, the artist ami the
scholar, flufttclo ami M'-ohnel Augclo are
enthroned there, their throne will be as
enduring as the love of !>eauty and genius j
in the hearts of their Worshippers.? Rich
Whij.
8ardines.
A Paris letter to the Washington re
public saya :?"flow many sardines do
you suppose have been taken this year
ti)?ou the coast of lirittauy, two hundred
miles long? Five hundred and seventysix
millions. Half of them are to be preserved
and sold fr.?h, and half are to lie
put down in oil. One hundred and sixty
vessels, manned by five thousand five hundred
sailors ami fishermen, are engaged
in the trade. The preparation, transpi rt,
And sale of the fish, employ ten thousand
persons. Nine thousand of these are occupied
all winter in the making and men
ding of net*. The fishing lasts two hundred
days, and yields a net profit to all
concerned, of three million franc*. The
sardines disappear in November and return
in April. Where they go during
these four months, why they go, or what
they do while gone, has never been discovered.
'fho fishermen say that the
ame individuals never come twice?that
every successive arrival is composed offish
much smaller than those that last left?
and that they appear to lie their young.
At any rate, they count implicitly on their
appearance; and no sardines was ever
known yet to break an engagement thus
tacitly entered into."
a Hi'ictkr of kbktvckv.?The correspondent
of the Evsn*ville Journal
writes as follows about a Kentucky hunter;?"Wat
Fckinan hn* fnllissnwl I...I
b .
fl>r * livelihood since the year 185} I.? j
Since that period he sacs helm* killed 88
bear*, 684 wolset, 8,847 cooas, POO toxe*
001 wiM frwe. 2.040 pheasants, 44
l?routwl hofl*, 80 wild cat*, 14 polecats,
200 minks, la-side squirrel, quail, and
other small game taynpd his power to
calculate. Then suna ha has tislW
from his game, skins, Acc., (Wlfc h?l Htt'?
short of twolre
It lian Indolence.
A letter w rtu-rsays:? llir.i !reds of men
in Italy aii! employed in painting 'Mldonnas"
for the cottages of t!io ) ca>ants,
iittle daubs of the Virgin Mary, the household
gods of a superstitious rnce. . Vast
liolds of lint and hemp may be seen in
most parts of the peninsula; but the labourers,
who for ages ought to have been
busy converting their produce into garments,
rope nr.d sailcloth, have been building
palaces, cutting marble, and studying
jaunts. Every on.* posses!cs a bad
picture, but an iUlurnished house; a lifad
of l)ante. but jMVireelv siiHi.-iciit. i-lnlliinw
' . j - ; o
tu appear in open day. While our inid!
'lie daisies enjoy the luxuries which reproI
iluetive in<!u~lrv places within their reach
j the admirer of aesthetic excellence south
of the Alps knows nothing of the comforts
"I Innue. 1 Miring the day he muy lounge
in tin; galleries where (initio delights the
eye; hut in thu i Veiling he returns to a
dreary room in some old pala/.zo, where,
by the light of a glimmering candle, ho
gropes his way to a tottering crullo and a
erazv bod. Ho may be aihle critically to
examine the masterpiece of Titian; hut as
.a man of business he is on a par with the
Chippeway. An Knglisli school-bov has
more ac juaintaucc with real life, and the
backwoodsman on the Missouri can better
appreciate the useful aits. Manufactures,
literature and politics are excluded from
the thoughts of a people thus unnaturally
engrossed with the beauties of design; and
when any unforsei n c urrcnce disarranges
the outward haimony of things,they rush
to extremes, behave like ii rational creatures,
and rh'et their chains llow long
wi'I sue s a state of things lastl is a question
frequently asked by travellers in Italy.
Two Pictures to Stufiy,
"Father is coining!" ami little round
fiees grow long, and meriy voices aro
hushed, and toys are hint ted into the closet,
ami matiuiiM glahccs nervously nf the
door, and baby is brib.-d with a lump of
sugar to keep ih? peace ; and father's business
tice relaxes in it a muscle* and the
little group huddle like timid sheep in a
comer, and tea is de-patched as silently
a- if peaking were prohibited by the statute
book, and the children creep like culprit
? to bed, marvelling that baby ilaro
inin ?) louii. now mat, "rawer ms
c>me."
"Father is coming!" ami bright eyes
?p.uk!?' I'T joy and tiny t"?t dance with
glee, and i'iipi r faces press against the
1 windovv-pane, and a bevy of rosy .ilia
j.kiim kisM's at the dour, and picture-books
lie- Ui.rebuked on llm tut and to) s, and
halls, and dolls, and kilos are disciised,
and little Snsv lavs her soft check against
tin* p. i Je n a I whiskers with the most fear*
le?s abandon" and Charley gets a lovo
pit for his "inedri!," and mamma's face
j arows radiant, and the evening? paper is
ioiiI, (not silently, hnt aloud,) and tea,
and toast, and time vanish with equal
celerity. for jubilee has arrived, ami "Father
h'iscome r'
t?T A bachelor friend of ours is about
getiing married for no other reason than
to have some one to care for him when ha
is sick. The treatment he received at a
fashionable l<oarding house," when ho
last, had the ague, has cured him not only
of single lite, hut single hedstenaa and
single mattresses. 1I<* ordered, he savs
the servant girl to lising hint up some
gruel on Monday morning, which never
readied him till the nctt Wdnesday
afternoon. During his whole confluement
not a single sold visited him save
the young gentleman who dlists tlie knives;
and h< c.-.roo not for tl o j.nr, o>? of
"administeringconsolation," hut to inform
liiin that "Missus would be much obliged
if Mr. Skce*icks would do his slinking on
a chair, so as not to get the bedstead apart.
This was the feather that I roke the back
of Skeesicka' bachelorship. From that
moment he resolved to cnnno^i )>!>
with n piece of dimity. Who can Mama
him? No one who has evere MMed a
confirmed bronchitis though a fashionable
hoarding house.?JJutchrAan
Mrs. Stowe was not loi g >iiioe applied
to for aid to purchase the freedom of a
tamiiy in the south Sho expre*aed great
love end sympathy f r the colored race
hut didn't i/ire a red rent,
tJT Before thy days of the teetotal*
lets, a neighbor of I)r. Di*bee *?w that
gentleman, at an early hour of the day
erawling slowly homeward on hi* bunds
and knees ever the frozen ground.
"Why don't you get up, Mr. Blabee?
Why don't you get up. and walk?" said
hin neighbor.
' | w-w-wonld b-h-bnt it's so almighty
thin here that I'm a-? afraid f shall l?-b- .?
break through!"
A C-'iTRtosirv.?Tlie limn who is uotMai,
much in favoj of tcrajwranyo n? aoy*
ffr If you doubt whether two akulU
ir? hoUcr, than one, jn?t undertake to row
again?t the <ide aoino day.
Never marry untH yen can free
the iJwtata o' the hub-Her, fiwtr. dr*?Bin
?'a I veil y- ighteou*