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r i B ?i?-M???j???????^???????i^??^?HWII>W ?.?- ' ? ?? ^ = r? " -g? -??. ?? -??g -__I __ ?? ^ LEWIpro^,et^RIST' [ S" jitbtpcnbtirt jfitntilg Htfospagtr: jfor % frmnotian of % |loIifoaI, Social, ^griraltural aith Cimtmemal |ntmsts cf % gtntj;. j TER^---$^50^]PBB YOL. 13. YOEKYILLE, S. P., THURSDAY, AH Cx IT ST 33, 1867. v ISrO.J|7^ Ike Jforg-IeHer. , THE LOTTERY TICKET7 j James Lanning was a mechanic?a young, hon- j est man, whose highest ambition was to gain a com- ' fortable home for himself and wife, and to be J thought well of by his neighbors. He had built ' himself a house, and there still remained upon it a c mortgage of five hundred dollars; but this sum he 1 hoped to pay in a very few years, if he only had his health. He had calculated exactly how long it 1 would take him to clear off this incumbrance, and * ' he went to work with his eyes open. . One evening, James came home to his supper 1 more thoughtful than usual. His young wife no- 1 deed his manner, and she inquired its cause. 1 'What is it, James?" she kindly asked. "Why, * I never saw you look so sober before." "Well, I'll tell you, Hannah," returned the L young man, with a slight hesitation in his manner. 8 "I have been thinking I should buy a lottery ticket" ' * Hannah Lanning did not answer immediately.? . She looked down and smoothed the silken hair of 1( her babe, which was chirping like a little robin in her arms, and the shades of her handsome features ^ showed that she was taking time to think. "How much will it cost?" she at length asked, a looking half timidly up into her husband's face. "Twenty dollars," returned James, faying to as- ? sume a confidence which he did not feel. "And have you made up your mind to buy it?" "Well, I think I shall. What do you think a- P bout it?" * "If you should ask my advice, James, I should say, do not buy it" "But why so?" 11 "For many reasons," returned the wife, in a trembling tone. She would not offend her hus- s' band, and she shrank from giving him advice which he might not follow. "In the first place, I " thing the whole Scheme of lotteries is a bad one; and then you have no money to risk.'' ^ "But just look at the prizes," said James, drawing a 'scheme' fron) his pocket "Here is one ? prize of twenty thousand dollars, another of ten ^ thousand, another of five thousand, and so on.? ^ . Something tells me that if I buy a ticket I shall draw a large prize. And then just think, Hannah, how easily I could pay all up for my house, and perhaps have a good handsome sum left" p The young man spoke with much earnestness w and assurance, but he saw that there was a cloud ^ upon his wife's brow. "It seems to me that the chance of drawing a n prize is very doubtful," said Hannah, as she took ? the scheme. "Here are many thousand tickets to j* be sold." The babe tried hard to snatch the pa- " per, and Hannah laid it aside. ^ "I think I shall run the risk," resumed James, glancing once more over the paper, and resting f" with a nervous longing upon the figures which rep- " resented the higher prizes. "There's Barney, he c' drew eight hundred dollars about a year ago." "Yes, I know it," said Hannah, with more j? warmth than she had before manifested, "and what has become of the money? You know he has ^ squandered it all away. Ah, James, money is no use to our happiness unless we come honestly by it" "Honestly," repeated the young man. "Sore- . ly, there is nothing dishonest in drawing a prize in j a lottery." "I think there is," kindly, bnt emphatically, re- ^ turned the wife. "All games of hazard, where money is at stake, are dishonest Were you to draw a prize of twenty thousand dollars, you would j rob a thousand men of twenty dollars each; or at least, you would take from them money for which ^ you return no equivalent Is it not gambling in ever sense of the word?" ? "0, no; you look on the matter in too strong a light." k "Perhaps I do, but yet so it looks to me. What r you draw some one else must lose; and perhaps it may be some one who can afford the loss no better than you can. Let us live on the products of our honest gains, and we shall be happier." James Lanning was uneasy. He had no answer ^ for his wife's argument; at least no answer that . could spring from his moral convictions, and he let ^ the matter drop. But the young man could not drive the syren from his heart. All the next day his head was full of "prizes," and while he was at ^ his work, he kept muttering over to himself, "Twenty thousand dollars," "Ten thousand dollars," "Five thousand dollars," and so on. j When he went home the next night, he was al- ? most unhappy with the nervous anxiety into which he had thrown himself. The tempter had grasped him firmly, and whenever he thought of the lotte- ^ ry, he saw nothing but piles of gold and silver. In short, James Lanning had made up his mind that he would buy the ticket He went to the little ^ box where he had already a hundred and twenty j dollars laid up towards paying off the mortgage on Q1 his house. The lock clicked with a startling sound, Q] and when he threw back the cover he hesitated.? ^ He looked at his wife, and he saw that she was sad. "0, I'm 8urel shall draw a prize," he said,'with a faint fading smile. * He took four half-eagles from the box and put them in his pocket His wife said nothing. She played with her babe to hide her sadness, for she did not wish to say more on the subject She had seen the little pile of gold accumulating, and both she and her husband had been happy in anticipa- ^ ting the day when the pretty cottage would be all y their own. But when she saw those four pieces of t taken away from the store, she felt a fore- ^ v^MBclowing of evil. She might have again spoken T^PS^inst the movement, but she saw that her hus- ^ band was sorely tender on the subject, and she let the affair go to the hands of fate. A week elapsed from the time that James bought ^ his ticket to the drawing of the lottery, and during that time the young man had not a moment of real enjoyment. He was alternating between hope and ^ fear, and his mind was constantly on the stretch. ^ At length the day arrived. James went to the K office and found that the drawing had taken place, ^ and that the list of prizes had been made out He seized the list and turned away so that those who a( stood around should not see his face. He read the ^ list through, but searched for his number in vain. w It was not there. He had drawn a blank! He lef the office an unhappy man. Those twenty dol- w lars which he had lost had been the savings of two months' hard labor, and he felt their loss most keenly. When he went home that night, he told his wife j\j that he had lost She found no fault with him.? She only kissed him, and told him the lesson was nj a good one, even thought it had been dearly bought a! But James Lanning wa3 not satisfied, he brood- w ed over his loss with a bitter spirit, and at length ni the thought came to him that he might yet draw a prize ! He wished that he had not bought the b< first ticket, and he thought that if he co aid only tb get back his twenty dollars he would buy no more; in but he could not rest under his loss. He was de- ei termined to make one more trial, and he did so.? This time he purchased the ticket without hiswife's 'e knowledge. The result was the same as before.? T He drew a blank! "Forty dollarsI" was the sentence that dwelt 01 fearfully upon the young mechanic's lips. "Oh, I g( must draw a prize. I must make up what I have ai lost! Let me once do that, and I'll buy no more tickets." ei Another twenty dollars was taken from the little sank, another ticket was bought, another blank vas drawn! At the end of three months the little xink was empty, and James Lanning had the last icket in his pocket Ah, how earnestly he prayjd that that ticket might draw him a prize. He lad become pale and careworn, and his wife, poor, wnfiding soul, thought he only repined because he lad lost twenty dollars. When she would tiy to sheer him he would laugh, and try to make the natter light "James," said his wife to him one day?it was he day before that on which the lottery was to be Irawn in which he held the sixth ticket?"Mr. lowse has been here to-day after his semi-annual nterest I told him you would see him to-morow." "Yes, I will," said James, in a faint tone. Yes, o-morrow I shall pay him." Young Lanning thought of the lottery and of he prize. This was the sixth trial, and he felt are that he should draw a prize. The morrow came, and when James Lanning cturned to his home at night he was penniless!? U1 his golden visions had faded away, and he was sft in darkness and misery. "James, have you paid Mr. Rowse his interest et ?" asked Hannah. The young man leaned his head upon his hands nd groaned aloud. "For Heaven's sake, James, what has happened ?" ried the startled wife, springing to the side of her insband, and twining her arms about his neck. The young man looked up with a haggard exiression. His lips were bloodless, and his features rere all stricken with a deatH-hue. "What is it? 0, what?" murmured the wife. "Go look in our box?our little bank," groaned be poor man. Hannah hastened away, and when she returned be bore the empty box in her hand. "Robbed!" she gasped, as she sank tremblingly own by her husband's side. "Yes, Hannah," whispered the husband, "I?I ave robbed you." The stricken wife gazed upon her husband with vacant look, for at first she did not comprehend; ut she remembered his behavior for weeks back, be remembered how he had murmured in his eep of lotteries and tickets, of blanks and prizes, nd gradually the truth broke in upon her. "I have done it all, Hannah," hoarsely whisered the condemned man, when he saw that his ife had guessed the truth. Ah, all gone for lot- . ;ry tickets. The Demon tempter lured me?he eld up glittering gold in his hand, but he gave le none of it. 0, do not chide me? You know ot what I have suffered?what hours of agony I ave passed?and you cannot know how cold is my eart now. 0, my wife, would to God I had lismed to you!" "?sh!" calmly whispered the faithful wife, as le drew her hand across her husband's heated row. "Mourn not for what is lost I will not lide thee. It is hard thus for you to lose your 1? ? ? w, I o.V? 4- V?A TMAntt nnlomi xlLliy ettrilllJgd, UUt tUCIC LUI5Ub uc luou; UUUUIIes worse than that Courage, James; we will >rget it." "And Mr. Rowse will foreclose the mortgage.? ou will be homeless,'' murmured young Lanning, 1 broken aocents. "No; I will see him. I will see that all is safe ffthat quarter," added Hannah. At that moment the babe awoke, and the gentle 1 lother was called to care for it. On the next day t noon, Hannah Lanning gave her husband a resipt for fifteen dollars from Rowse. "Here," said she "the interest is paid. Now t us forget all that has passed, and commence ariu." "But how?what has paid this?" asked James, szing first upon the receipt, and then upOn his ife. "Nevermind." . "Ay, but I must mind. Tell me, Hannah." "Well, I have sold my gold watch." "Sold it." "But I can buy it back again. The man will ot part with it, if I want it But I don't, James, A we are able. Perhaps I shall never want it.? "ou must not chide me, for never did I derive one ita of the pleasure from its possession that I now el in the result of its disposal." James Lanning clasped his wife to his bosom, tid he murmured a prayer, and in that prayer lere was a pledge. * * * * * * Two years passed away, and during that time ames Lanning lost not a single day from his work, [e was as punctual as the sun and the result was ire. It was late one Saturday evening when he came ome. After supper he drew a paper from his ocket and laid it upon the table. "There, Hannah," said he, while a noble pride earned in every feature, "that is my mortgage.? 've paid it?every cent. The house is ours?it is ar own house. I've bought it with dollars, every ne of which has been justly earned by the sweat : my brow. I am happy now." Hannah Lanning saw that her husband had pened his arms, and she sat down upon his knee, id laid Tior hand ltnnn his shoulder. i "0, blessed moment!" she murmured. "Yes, it is a blessed moment," responded the usband. "Do you remember, Hannah, the hour f bitterness that we saw two years ago." The wife shuddered, but she made no reply. "Ah," continued the young man, "I have never rgotten that bitter lesson ; and even now I tremle when I think how fatally I was deceived by the smpter that has lured thousands on to destrucI) on. "But its terror is lost in this happy moment," 1 lid Hannah, looking up with a smile. "Its terror may be lost," resumed James, "but 1 s lesson must never be forgotten. Ah, the luring ' ittery ticket has a dark side?a side which few i ie until they feel it." i "And are not all its sides dark?" softly asked ie wife. "If there is any brightness about it, it i only the glare of the fatal ignus fatuus, which ] in only lead the wayward traveler into danger and isquiet." ] "ir m i j it : _i. i. i. "Iou are rignt, my aear wire. xuu were rigui / t first. Ah," ho continued, as he drew the faith- i il being more closely to his bosom, "if husbands i ould oftener obey the tender dictates of the lov- < ig wife, there would be far less of misery in the < orld than there is now." A THRILLING ADVENTURE. , The following thrilling sketch is from an English < [agazine: i "Father will have done the great chimney to- ' ght, won't he mother?" said little Tommie How- . d, as he stood waiting for his father.'s breakfast, ' hich he canied to him at his work every mor- 1 ng. 1 "He said that he hoped all the scaffolding would ' i down to-night," answered the mother, "and : tat will be a fine sight; for I never like the end- < g of those great chimneys; it is so risky for fath- < to be the last up." i "Eh, then, but I'll go and seek him, and help j m to give a shout afore he comes down," said i om. 1 "And then," continued the mother, "if all goes 1 a right we are to have a frolic to-morrow; and < a in the countiy, and take our dinners, and spend i 11 the day in the woods." "Hurrah!" cried Tom, as he ran off to his fath- < r's place of work, with a can of milk in one hand < and some bread in the other. His mother stood in the door, watching him as he went merrily whistling down the street, and she thought of the 1 dear father he was going to, and the dangerous work he was engaged in; and then her heart sought its sure refuge, and she prayed to God to protect and bless her treasures. Tom, with a light heart, pursued his way to his father, and leaving him his breakfast, went to his own work, which was at some distance. In the < evening, on his way home, he went around to see j how his father was getting on. 4 James Howard, the father, and a number of other gentlemen, had been building one of those lofty chimneys, which, in our great manufacturing ( towns, almost supply the place of other architec- ] tural beauty. The chimney was one of the highest i and most tapering that had ever been erected, and ( as Tom shaded his eyes from the slanting rays of ( the setting sun, looked up in search of his father, < his heart almost sank within him at the appalling \ height The scaffold was almost down; the men \ at the bottom were moving the last beams and i poles. Tom's father stood alone at the top. 2 He then looked around to see that everything < ???<*?. MsJkt *V?l?a m Afl niv fllfl * YTUO ii^Ub) UUU IUCU TTaVLUg 11U3 liBb JU l/IIV UU j iuu men below, answering him with a loud cheer, little Tom shouting as loud as any of them. As their voices died away, however, they heard a different t sound, a cry of alarm and horror from above. "The 1 rope, the rope I" The men looked around and 1 coiled upon the ground, lay the rope, which before t the scaffolding was removed, should have been fas- t tened to the chimney for Tom's father to come down by! The scaffolding had been taken down without remembering to take the rope up. They t all knew it was impossible to throw the rope up high ^ enough, or skillful enough, to reach the top of the t chimney, or if it could, it would hardly be safe.? ? They stood in silent dismay, unable to give any ( help or think of any means of safety. 1 And Tom's father. He walked round and round s the little circle, and the dizzy height seemed more , and more fearful, and the solid earth further from j him. In the sudden panic, he lost his presence of t mind, and his senses failed him. He shut his eyes ? and felt as if the next moment he must be dashed ] to piece?00 ground below. ' t The day passed as industriously as usual with t Tom's mother at home. She was always busily t employed for her husband in some way or other, f and to-day, she had been at work harder than usual ] getting ready for the holiday to-morrow. She had t just finished her arrangements, and her thoughts j were silently thanking God for the happy home, and all these blessings of life, when Tom ran in. His face was as white as ashes, and he could t hardly get his words out: "Mother! mother! he j cannot get down." . ^ t "Who lad ? thy father?" asked the mother. c "They have forgotten to leave the rope," answered Tom, still scarcely able to speak. The t mother started up horror struck, and stood for a t moment as if paralyzed, then pressing her hands a over her face, as if to shut out the terrible picture and breathing a prayer to God for help, she rushed out of the house. ^ When she reached the place where her husband j( was at work, a crowd gathered around the foot of t the chimney, and stood quite helpless, and gazing up with faces full of sorrow. ^ "He says he'll throw himself down." "Thee munna do that, lad," cried the wife with a clear hopeful voice; "thee munna do that. Wait a bit. Take off thy stocking, lad, and unravel it, and let down the thread with a bit of mortar.? Dost thou hear me, Jem ?" * The man made a sign of assent; for it seemed a as if he could not speak?and taking off his stock- ^ ing, unraveled the worsted yarn, row after row.? r The people stood around in breathless silence and v suspense, wondering what Tom's mother could be 1 thinking of; and why she sent him in such haste * for the carpenter's ball of twine. a "Let down one end of the thread with a stone, r and keep fast hold of the other," cried she to her ' husband. The little thread came waving down the 8 tall chimney, blown hitherand thither by the wind, but it reached the outstretched hands that were waiting for it Tom held the ball of twine, while v his mother tied one end of it to the worsted thread, r "Now pull it slowly," cried she to her husband, and she gradually unwound the string until in reach I of her husband. "Now hold the string fast, and y pull it up," cried she, and the string grew heavy l and hard to pull, for Tom and his mother had fas- I tened a thick rope to it. They watched it gradu- g ally and slowly uncoil from the ground, as the string c was drawn tighter. u There was but one coil left. It had reached the d top. "Thank God! thank God!" exclaimed the I wife. She hid her face in her hands, in silent 1 prayer, and tremblingly rejoioed. The iron to a which it should be fastened was there all right? ' but would her husband be able to make use of it ? ? Would not the terror of the past hour so have un- I nerved him as to prevent him from taking the ne- I cessary measures for his safety ? She did not know I the magical influence which her few words had ex- e ercised over him. She did not know the strength f that the sound of her voice, so calm and steadfast, a had filled him with?as if the little thread that li carried him the hope of life once more, and eon- i veyed to him some portion of that faith in God o which nothing ever destroyed or shook in her pure ii heart $he did not know that as she waited there to the words came over him, "Why art thou cast v down, 0 my soul, why art thou disquieted within v me ? hope thou in God." She lifted her heart to d God for hope and strength but could do nothing a more for her husband, and her heart turned to God a and rested on Him as on a rock. & There was a great shout, "He's safe, mother, e: he's safe!" cried little Tom. a Thou hast saved ray life, my Maty," said her d husband, folding her in his arms. "But what ails si thee ? thou seemeth more sorry than glad about lc it." But Mary could not speak, and if the strong e< arm of her husband had not held her up, she would A have fallen to the ground?the sudden joy after S 3uch great fear had overcome her. "Tom, let thy H mother lean on thy shoulder," said the father, si "and we will take her home." And in their hap- ai py home they poured forth thanks to God for his E great goodness, and their happy life together felt si iearer and holier for the peril it had been in, and g the nearness of the danger had brought them unto ? God. And the holiday next day?was it not in- v leed a thanksgiving day. F I, A Fenian Adventure.?1The New York Times ft Df Sunday, published what it characterizes as "a a mriousand romantic but true narration" of the s< adventure of a party of Fenians, who fitted up a si vessel and sailed, in April last, from New York for k Ireland, from which they returned a few days since, g; rhere were three hundred and fifty of these bold ei but foolish adventurers, all picked men, thorough- w ly armed, and well supplied with warlike stores.? tl Hiey were all believers in the oft-repeated state- tl went that the people of Ireland were ripe for rev- n olution, and that if an organized body of troops, japable of forming the nucleus of an army, were to land on any part of the Irish soil and raise the S screen flag, the entire country would rush to their cl support. They got to the Irish coast in safety, c< touched at different points, and landed an armed force at the promising locality. But nobody gath- tl sred round them, or knew anything of them or li their project, or cared anything at all about hem. tl A.nd so, after a series of mishaps, misfortunes and ir laring attempts, in which a number of them were u ;aptured, the bark Plato has returned to New w York, bearing a body of men who bave suffered hardships that they are not willing to repeat, even for the cause of Irish independence. gasaaaBBse IpSttltatiM fading. RECOLLECTIONS OF CADET LIFE. "An Old Dragoon" is writing a series of interring sketches for a Richmond paper, giving remniscences of Cadet life at the West Point Military Academy. The following are extracts: SIDNEY JOHNSON. The first cadet I ever heard give the word of jommand was Sidney Johnson, and the impression lis appearance made on me is as clear and distinct .1 TT;_ L & j 11 10W ?iS ic was men. hib buuwwx luriu anu wealevelopcd muscles gave him an appearance of great strength, while his gentle manners and benevolent sountenance indicated a man of the tenderest affec:ions. Hard to arouse to anger, he was ever ready o esjHiuse the cause of the oppressed His noble lature endeared him to his fellow cadets and his issociates in after life. On one of the fairest pages )f history must be written the deeds of this gallant loldier and true patriot LEONIDA8 POLK. Leonidas Polk, tall and straight as arrow, was ;he orderly sergeant of my company. Scrupulous y strict in the discharge of his duties, retiring in lis manners, and a devout member, even then, of ;he Episcopal Church, he invariably commanded ;he respect of us all. ROBERT E. LEE. Robert E. Lee held the two offices in the corps lsually filled by the best soldiers of the class?ser;eant-major and adjutant He discharged the dales of these offices with zeal and fidelity. His perional appearance surpassed in manly beauty that >f any other cadet in the corps. Though firm in lis position and perfectly erect, he had none of the itiffness so often assumed by men who affect to be rery strict in their ideas of what is military. His irabs, beautiful and symmetrical, looked as though ^J rtAmrt Awm ft ftimi'nn InfVn Vila ofnn WOQ UCJ uuu wiuc iiv/ia a butuiug Jutug ? mo ovv|/ **uu is elastic as if he spurned the ground upon which le trod. He was noted among his class-mates as i great student, and as having passed through the rying ordeal of a military school without a single lemcrit mark. (I generally got one-hundred and ifty a year.) During Bob Lee's stay at West Point., I am satisfied he never swore an oath, toned a drop of ardent spirits, nor used "the weed" n any shape or form. JOE JOHNSON. Jo.'seph E. Johnson had a great deal of the miliary spirit that pervaded the corps, and which was nfused by Major Worth. He was not remarkable or his studious habits, and belonged to a fast set, f which I myself was an active member. Few of hat set escaped arrest, confinement and court inarial. Joe Johnson was one of those genial spirits hat gave zest to a cadet's life. Full of ambition nd i. desire to excel, he was ever ready to join a couting party to Buttermilk Falls, the residence if the immortal Benny Havens. His appearance pas very military, and when under,arms no man ooked more the soldier. He was very expert in he manual of arms, and carried his musket so perlendicular that it leaned a little too much to the ront.. Though we recognized his talents then, we : ittle dreamed he had the military genius he has ince displayed as a commander JOHN B. ilAGRUDER. My old friend and classmate, John B. Magruder, , pas perhaps the most elegant and distingue cadet , ,t the Academy in that day, and I do not believe i Nesc Point has ever had his equal. He was a first ate soldier, of fine appearance, and very strict phen on duty as "officer of the day," never failing o report the slightest violations of regulations, even hough the delinquent was his most intimate friend i nd room-mate. This trait in his character I have , eason to know from personal experience. John pas for the corps the "arbiter of things elegant, the , ;lass. of fashion." RUNNING DOWN AN INDIAN. There was one other cadet at the Point with me ; phom I must not omit to mention as a remarkable nan I refer to Lucius B. Northrup, late Com- 1 nissary-General of the Confederate States. When 1 recollect him at the Academy, he was a handsome 1 minor man. with an nlivA fYimnlflxinn. lone black 1 iair. very erect, and walked looking straight before lim, neither to the right nor the left deigning a ' ;lanee. He would fight on the drop of a pin. His areer in the army afterwards was cut short by an 1 intoward accident He was sent by his command- i ling officer, somewhere out in Arkansas or in the ndian territoiy, to aiVest a notorious desperado.? ^he general belief was that the man would resist ' nd kill any officer attempting to arrest him, and ' Northrup having to ascend a ladder into a loft to i ;et at the desperado, carried his pistol cocked.? 1 Jnfortunately it went off prematurely, and shot Northrup in the leg, permanently disabling him.? 1 Northrup was always very fond of horses, and gen- < rally rode splendid animals. In General Dodge's 1 amous expedition, many years ago, on the Plains < nd out into a country that was then an unknown ind, and broken upon as a sort of terra incognita, 1 forihrup was an officer in the expedition. Dodge's i bject was to negotiate with the Indians and concil- j ite with them. But as he advanced into the coun- ' ry the Indians all fled at his approach. The army i rould see them in the distance, on the tops of hills, i ratching their progress; but Mr. Redskin would i isappear as the "pale faces" came up. All hopes < t negotiation seemed fruitless; you could not get i palaver with them, nothing could induce them to 1 jme into our camp. Finally Northrup told Gen- i ral Dodge he would bring an Indian in. He rode f magnificent blooded mare of great speed and en- i urs.nce. The next morning before day, Northrup t iarted out in advance of the column, and made a 1 >ng detour. At the usual hour the column march- t I. As they advanced they saw an Indian on his c eet little pony, with his lance, watching their pro- c ress from the top of a distant hilL Suddenly Mr. Ledskin darted like an arrow from a bow down the :de of the hill, his little pony at full speed, running cross the front of the column, and presently ^ lorthrup appeared after Mr. Indian with a sharp del:, and riding as hard as he could go. He had ^ ot in the rear of the Indian, and was going to s itch him by running him down. The chase was s ery exciting, for we could see the whole of it.? i 'inally the blooded mire of Northrup brought Mr. ^ ndian's pony to a stand. Of course Redskin was i ightened out of his wits at being thus run down f nd overtaken, and expected immediate death and jalping. Lieutenant Northrup brought his prize a ifely into camp, where General Dodge, instead of c illiog, roasting and eating him, as he expected, t avo him plenty to eat and drink, made him pres- 1: nts, and then, after explaining what he wanted r ith the Indians, let him go. After that incident li lere was no difficulty in having interviews with r le Indians, and General Dodge accomplished his t egotiations. a A Lady's Opinion op a Lady's Man.?Mrs. [ tephens, in her monthly magazine, gives a certain t lass of men, the like of whom are seen in every ji immunity, the benefit of her opinion, as follows: I Our own private opinion of a "lady's man" is, fi iafc he is thoroughly contemptible?a sort of the t fe hardly worth thinking about?a nutshell with t le kernel withered up?a handful of foam drift- b ig over the wine of life, something not altogether 1< npleasant to the fancy, but of no earthly use. A L oman of sense would as soon be put to sea in a c man-of-war made ot shingles; or take up her residence in a card house, as dream of attaching herself to a lady killer. Women worth the name are seldom deceived into thinking our lady's man the choicest specimen of his sex. Whatever their ignorance may be, womanly intuition must tell them that the men who live for a great object, and whose spirits are so firmly knit they are able to encounter the storms of life?men whose depth and warmth of feeling resemble the powerful current of a mighty river, and not the pebbles on its surface, -who, if they love, are never smitten by mere beauty or features ?that these men are more worthy even of occupying their thoughts in idle moments than the fops and men about town, with whose attentions they amuse themselves. If we were to tell him this, he would only laugh; he has no pride about him, although fiill of vanity; and it matters not to him i a. i ji rc :.ii? wiittt we may uruauiy uuirui ur quieuy luoiuuatc. Soft and delicate though he be, he is as impervious to ridicule as a hod carrier, and as regardless of honest contempt as a city alderman. Were you to hand him this article, he would take it to some social party and read it aloud in the most mellifluous voice as a homage to his own attractions. CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. Any particulars concerning the famous "charge" at Bnlaklava, during the Crimean War, which Tennyson has so finely immortalized in verse, must be of general interest, although it is now many years since the gallant Six Hundred rode up to their death, while "Cannon to the right of them Cannon to the left of them Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thundered." We gladly give place, therefore, to the following personal and graphic aedbunt of the affair, which has never before been made public. It came substantially from the lips of the Earl of Cardigan, the commander of the Eleventh Hussars, at Balaklava, in 1854, who actually led the celebrated "charge," and was related to Mr. Stephen Massett, during his recent visit to England, after he had recited Tennyson's stirring epic to Lord and Lady Cardigan, with an effect which may be easily itnn<rined bv nil wbn bnve ever beard his recita tions. At about one o'clock on that memorable day, after the Heavy Brigade had been attacked by the Russian Cavalry, the whole of the cavalry division was considerably advanced towards the enemy, and the Light Brigade had been ordered to dismount to relieve their horses. Suddenly they were again ordered to "mount," and aid-de-camp Captain Noland came forward and told Lord Lucan, commanding the cavalry, that, the Light Brigade were to attack the Russians in the valley.? Lord Lucan rode up to Lord Cardigan, and said: "It is Lord Raglan's order that the Light Brigade is to attack the Russians in the valley." Lord Cardigan replied, saluting with his sword: "Certainly my Lord, but you will allow me to inform you that there is a Russian battery in front, and one on each flank, while the ground on the flank is covered with Russian riflemen." Lord Lucan answered: "I cannot help that, it is Lord Raglan's "positive order that the Light Brigade is to attack them." Lord Cardigan then formed his brigade, of five regiments, with three regiments in the front line, and two in the second, while Lord Lucan ordered Lord Cardigan's own regiment, the Eleventh Hussars, back so as to form a support on the left rear of the front line. Lord Cardigan immediately ordered the advance. After going about sixty yards, Captain Nolan rode obliquely across the front, when a Russian shell fell upon the ground near him, and not far from Lord Cardigan. Nolan's horse then wheeled about and carried him to the rear, and Lord Cardigan led the Brigade down to the main battery in front, about one mile and a quarter distant On arriving at about eighty yards from the battery, the fire became very severe, and the officers were considerably excited, and had to be ordered to be "steady." . , Lord Cardigan, at the head of his brigade, passed close by the muzzle of a gun which was fired as he entered the battery, and rode straight forward through the Russian limber carriages, until he , came up close to their line of cavaliy. His brigade did not follow him, and he was attacked by two Cossacks, slightly wounded and nearly dismounted; ( but he fenced them off, and gradually retired from tlkAWk nn/1 Tunro nffiJmnfinor fft QIIITftlinH L11CUI) UUU VVUV1U II VI v wvwiii^/VdiQ ?v him. When he got back to the battery, his command had retired and diverged to the left, and he 3lowly retreated, until he met Gen. Scarlett, commanding the Heavy .Brigade of cavalry. He told him that the Light Brigade was destroyed, and < mentioned the fate of Capt. Nolan, after bringing the order for the attack, when General Scarlett said that he had just ridden over Captain Nolan's body. _ i Lord Cardigan then had his brigade counted by his staff officfff, and found that there were only i me hundred and ninety-five men present out of six ] hundred and fifty. He then immediately rode off i to Lord Raglan to report what had taken place. i The first thing that Lord Raglan said, was, l i(What, sir, could you possibly mean by attacking i i battery in front, contrary to all usages of warfare, ] md the custom of the service?" He replied:? ] 'My Lord, I hope you will not blame me?for I 1 received a positive order from my superior officer i ii front of the troops, to attack them, although I i vas quite well aware of the unusual course of pro- ( jeeding ordered." Lord Raglan then inquired : vhat he had done, and was told that he had led < he brigade into a Russian battery; that he had : idden up to the Russian cavalry, that he was not 1 bllowed by the brigade: that he was wounded aud 1 learly dismounted, and had some difficulty in get- s ,ing away from a number of Cossacks; that the) c )rigade was nearly destroyed, there now being onJy 5 >ne hundred and ninety-five left out of six hun- 1 Ired and fifty, and finally that the whole affair had s iccupied only the brief space of twenty minutes. 1 Home Journal. c a How Gen. Sheridan Deposed a Judge.? a Fhe St Louis Republican of July 24th says: 1 Yesterday we made reference to Gen. Sheridan's g nilgar pomposity in New Orleans. From the g lame gentleman who gave us information on the r ubjects therein related, we learned of the follow- t ng disgraceful and humiliating scene?a scene ? phicli must wound the pride and mo *tify the spir- e t of every American citizen who has any regard e or republican institutions and civil liberty. r Our informant states that he was one day, a hort time since, summoned to attend one of the s ivil courts in the city as a witness, and while upon a he stand, giving in his testimony, he observed a t ieutenant, with a file of soldiers, enter the court t oom, the soldiers being armed with guns and the n ieutenant with his sword drawn. Without cere- i: nony or hesitation, they marched up to the judge's a ench, and the lieutenant delivered to the judge, ii ; citizen of great worth and high character, a pa- b >er writing, which the judge opened and silently d terused. As he did so, our informant says he saw p he judge's color come and go with a rapidity which t: ndieated that he was laboring under deep emotion, t n a few minutes, after the judge had apparently b inished the perusal of the paper, he stepped from 6 he bench and entered into an animated converea- s ion in an under tone, with several members of the p >ar, whereupon the lieutenant, without ceremony, a jave or license, walked into the judge's stand, and tl a a loud and peremptory voice, dismissed the s ourt, ordering sill to leave. As a matter of course, 3 there was much excitement at such an outrage, 1 and a great deal of "honest indignation, though < there was no manifestation of violence, other than that used by the lieutenant and his cohort of sold- < iers. It was a practical illustration of the Con- ] gressional plan of reconstruction, which makes the i military superior to the civil power. I The paper writing handed to the judge proved [ to be a military "order," from "these headquar- i ters," commanding the judge to appear before his royal highness, Philip the First, Vice-Royal of the j Radical party, and future Duke of Louisiana, there 1 to answer for something, we know not what? < quite likely for his presumption in daring to ex- t ercise the functions of a civil magistrate without i leave first having been obtained. < CAPTURE OF A 1IOA. The New Orleans Crescent gives the following thrilling account,of the chase and capture of a boa: Last evening about sundown, while two gentlem?h, boarding at No. 145 Gravier street, corner of , St Charles, were conversing with Mr. Irwin, the .v a . 4/N 1 * 1 _ ill x servant Doy aDout vi years oia, wno naa Deen sent < up stairs to close the windows, came rushing down ] stairs, saying: "In room number 1, on the fourth floor, is the largest snake I ever saw." In an in- , stant, Messrs. Irwin, Grant and Beverly Kennon , reached the new haunt of the stranger, where they i found a snake ten feet long and twelve inches in ] circumference, probably more, coiled partly on the window sill close by, his head elevated fully two j feet above his body. One of the gentlemen would , have killed him with a revolver which he had , brought from his room for the purpose, but he did i not fire, however, as it would have endangered the , lives of foot passengers on St. Charles street? ; Moreover, one of the gentlemen present knowing ( the snake to be of the boa species, proposed catching him alive, which was done after much patience and perseverance. They tried for fully an hour to catch him in No. 1, but without success. Until , he was troubled he was perfectly quiet, but on the , gentleman approaching within a few feet of him, , he crawled up the window blind (it having a per fectly smooth surface) with the intention of getting , behind the canvass which formed the ceiling of the , room. A slight tap with a stick brought him down , again. His keeper now arrived and attempted to . catch him under a blanket His many attempts ( caused the snake to become very angry, and he , now repeatedly struck at whatever was presented | to him. Finding his captors were getting the better of him he dropped down to the arch over the , window below (room No. 14), from whence he was | shoved off on to a clothes line stretched over the , top of the balcony below. Some difficulty was ex- , perienced in getting the key to the room, where he , was expected to be found. When the door was opened and a candle procured?for it was nearly sTafL-?fliu cnoVn'o Vioor) nrto in ftio vinilnv TTp evidently intended 'turning in' in a room Dot so , near the top of the house. Another man from the | museum arrived, bringing a blanket with him; ; but the snake was now very much excited and so j quick in his motions that the blanket was given up, , and a rope substituted in its place. The party re- | peatedly got the rope round his neck, but as soon , as he felt it he jerked his head out of the noose as ( quick as thought He was resting on the out rig- j ger of the clothes line, and it was impossible to ( manage him as he was partly in his coil. Soon, j however, he stretched himself nearly his full length on the line, when a running bow-line was dropped over his head. As soon as he felt its weight, he pulled back, which only tended to tighten the noose , more. He soon discovered that he was caught, his tail being wound round the line was now removed, ] and he offered no resistance?in fact, he could not | as he was choked nearly to death, and like a good ] fellow accepted the situation. His keeper soon after returned him to his old quarters, which he left j four weeks ago. So far from showing a disposition to fight, his chief aim seemed to be to get away j from the captors. He only showed fight when worried to get him to keep his head in motion and j clear of his body, so as to put the bowline around his neck. The bite of the boa is not dangerous, , but his strength lies in the crushing force which he j applies to his antagonist This one can and does i easily take a full grown pigeon at a mouthful. He t takes but one, and once a month only. They must i kill their own game. His snakeship is now safely 1 quartered in the museum whence it is to be hoped he will not soon emerge. Mr. Irvin would make j money by having all his boarders with such light f appetites. The above were fully one hour and a half in securing his satanic majesty. He was con- ( sidered of too much value to his owner to allow of his being killed, when with patience and care he 1 could be captured unharmed. I # , ( HOW THE WEST IS SETTLED. i > j Railroads are the great power in the' West?the i means through which great expanses of beautiful j prairie is transformed into tilled fields. The ab- t 3ence of timber seems no impediment The eye 1 has been accustomed for years to look over a beau- tiful piece of rolling prairie, as you pass along on t the train or by the wagon road. You wonder who c that land belongs to; perhaps to some speculator << in Wall street, or may be to some sturdy son not ret quite ready to pitch his tent in the West You i pass that way again in a day or two, and observe a ^ ong black line across the green grass. As the train g whirls along, you follow the line with the eye till { t rests upon a pair of medium sized horses attached to a twelve-inch breaking plow, moving steadily ilong, perhaps under the guidance of some new:omer from a way down in Maine?perhaps from ? t point not so remote. He has come by railroad, J jought his team, plow and harness the day after ' lis arrival, at a cost of say $250 to $300 for hor- i) ics, and $30 each for plow and harness. He se- k :ures board in a farmer's family near his land at n 52.50 or $3.00 per week, and the third day after " lis arrival you see the dark line across the green n od. You pass that way in a week?the dark line q las widened into a ten-acre strip. You pass again, fi it the close of the breaking season, late in July, tl md thirty acres of sod?perhaps forty?is inverted " md rotting, ready for a crop the following season, ri Nie new-comer has turned his team out to grass, n md is, perhaps, helping the neighbors in harvest t] it $1.50 or $2 per day and board. During the re- ii nainder of the season you see no evidence of fur- e her improvement. You pass that way at mid- u rinter and observe the track of a sled along the out- h r border of the breaking, and at a distance of e ight feet apart you see fence posts distributed, vi eady sharpened for driving. p As the frost leaves the ground in April, you ob- p erve a week very industriously put in with team c md harrow, seeding wheat and oats. Following d his, you observe the solitary laborer with his por- h able bench about two feet and a half high, and ? aaul and sledge, driving posts. While the ground tl 3 moist and loose from the going out of the frost, h man will readily drive his forty rods a day. Thus T a eight to twelve days the thirty or forty acres of a reaking will be encircled by posts. Another ten g] lays will see the customary three rails, or three V line boards in place, or if wire is used, half the o: ime only will be required to put it in good shape p o turn stock. We will suppose the outlay to have le een for material, about as follows: For forty acres, ft 40 posts at 12$ cents each, would amount to a b hade under $80. Pine boards would cost, 60 eta. h er rod, total in round numbers $200, or for posts & nd boards $280. If four strands of wire is used, h he total cost would be, say 10 cents per rod, each trand, a total of forty cents per rod for the wire. 1 ,'otal in round numbers, posts and wire, $208. It tl mil be seen how men come to the WestongMPlBii3ed, and make/arms in one year. $We will pass that way again as whiter approaches, to observe all the evidences of pioneer fiirm appointments, in the snug, plain cottage, built altogether with pine lumber, the capacious straw pile, the rick of prairie hay and the rustic stabling.? Eh us it is that new farms are opened from year to rear, in the most quiet manner imaginable. A stranger remarks, as he looks over the broad irray of untouched green, from the oar window, 'it will be a long time before this land will be tilled." Invite him to pass over the same route in ;hree years. It is altogether likely that his eye vill be met by a long line of fields, with waving jora and capacious buildings. New associations nntr nlnmnnfo nnAVVUM^lv llawfWH HO ivtaiwu i uvn vtvwvuw ?uiv*|nwwvy wmvtt? together.?'Cbr. 0/ Country Gentleman. * MEXICAN CHARACTER. . Having recently published accounts of Mexican character which were far from complimentary, we think it but justice to present the other side. This we do in the language of a traveler who has been much among the Mexicans. He says: "I have lived among the Mexicans in friendship and intimacy, and know them welL With permission of the philosophers, who may consider it a truism, I shall mention that they are esarafifiBy like other people, and are not, sofer as I have seen Inferior to our own Anglo-Saxon races, except in not having had our advantages of education and experience. In some things which do not depend on external influences they have shown me that they are very excellent. I have proved their kindness of heart, generosity and fidelity. They have more spirituality than our race evinces at the pres- x cut time, bat have not the same material force, especially in getting and keeping money. They are polite and considerate of each other's rights; patient and long suffering, and toleraDt even of injustice which, perhaps, ought not to be tolerated. I speak principally of the mass of the people who are not partisans of the clergy; for this relation vitiates the natural qualities, which are what I am describing. But even the latter class often show their good natural qualities. I do not think they are more given to robbery than the Anglo-Saxons, and not so much disposed to murder. Nor have I seen that they exceed in any crime. I take into consideration the absence of checks on the part of the government, and give credit to the individual who is moral and just without outward compulsion. It would seem that many have been misled by the word 'Indian' to associate the Mexican with those Northern varieties of the tomahawk and warpaint, or with the less offensive individuals of the same race. There oould not be a greater mistake. And it has been thought that the best people in Mexico are those of European origin, jtnd that its regeneration is to come with the extinction of the native races. This is a gigantic error. The best blood in Mexico is of the American, and not of the European races. I know perfectly well that Mexico has produced some exceedingly bad men, the natural fruit of bad systems; that these ought to be restrained from doing harm. Bat I know as veil that the youth have noble qualities, and lam jonfident that better times, and the cessation of Tereign interference, will make it clear to the world hat Mexicans are capable of forming and sustaining a national existence." ,4 A BURGLAR TRAPPED. The New York correspondent of the Troy Time* rives the following: I was informed of a case in which a burglar was handsomely trapped a few nights since. The bouse of a resident of Brooklyn was entered about midnight, and the occupant, Mr. , awakened. As he arose in bed he saw standing in the room a rough looking man with a bludgeon in his hand. "What do you want here?" was the inquiry of Mr. . "I want your money or your life," suddenly replied the thief. "You do, eh?" exclaimed Mr. ?^ and be dipped his hand under his pillow and drew forth i splendid revolver. "You do, eh ?" he repeated, md sprang from the bed, presenting the revolver it the head of the thief "Now, sir, I want your noney or your life," he continued, still presenting 11a revolver. The thief "comprehended the situation at a glance," and fairly "shook in his boots," as he stammered, "I will go out, sir!" "No you won't until you give me your moneyhen you may go!" ' . /.j The thief drew from his pocket ten dollars and landed the sum over. . "Now, I want your coat." This was delivered. 'Now, I will take your shirt, boots, and pants." rhe thief hesitated. "If you don't take them off nstantly, I will shoot yon dead where you stand md throw your body out of the window." The hief complied, and stood naked. "Now you may eave," replied , "by the same way you came -through that window, down the shed, and over he fence. And if I ever see you within fifty yards if this house again, day or night, I'll shoot you lead?so help me God 1" The thief took his departure, and when reated his adventure next morning to the family, yho were entirely undisturbed by it, he was obliged to exhibit his captured clothing and money to nduce belief GENEROSITY. Caley, the epunent artist, one day said to Lord ihelburne, "My Lord, perhaps yon have heard of lohn "Wesley, the founder of the Methodists?"? '01 yes, that race of fanatics." "Well, my lord, Ir. Wesley had been urged to have his likeneas taen, but he always refused. One day he called on le on business, and I began the old subject? Well," said I, ' 'knowing you value money for the leans of doing good, if you will grant me my re uest, I will engage to give you ten guinea* for the rst ten minutes that you sit, and for every minute bat exceeds that time you shall receive a guinea." What," , said Wesley, "do I understand you aight, that you will give me ten guineas for having iy likeness taken? Well, I agree to it" He ben stripped off his coat, and lay on the and ? 1 eight minutes I had the most perfect bust I had ver taken. He then washed his face, and X coun;d to him ten guineas in his hand. "W&fi," said e, turning to his companion, "I never till now arned money so speedily, but what shall we do ith it?" They wished me a good morning and rooeeded over Westminster bridge. They met a oor woman crying bitterly, with three children rying around her. On inquiring the cause-of her istress, Wesley learned that the creditors of her usband were dragging him to prison, after having aid their effects, which were inadequate to pay tie debts by eighteen shillings. One guinea made er happy. He then went to Giltspur prison.? 'he first ward he entered he was struck with the ppearanoe of a poor wretch greedily eating potato tins. He was confined for a debt of half a guinea. Lesley gave him a guinea, and had the pleasure f seeing him liberated, with half a guinea in his ocket "You may imagine, my lord," said Carsy, "that the remaining eight guineas did not go ir in aiding such distress as this.'' Ixrrd Shelurae was so convinced of the mistaken opinion he ad formed of Wesley, that he immediately orderi a dozen of his busts to embellish the,grounds of is beautiful residence. Good company and good conversation are ie very sinews of virtue. ^ - -