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LEWIfr?RIST' ft |n^tnb?Et /:;::uin JUlospaptr: /or tbr ^romolion of lot |oBical, Social agricultiiral anb Commercial Musts of Ibe fcritl;. ^ VOL. 15. YORKVILLE, 8. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1869. NO. 43. ? ?-? " i _ ? ihe fillet THE DROPPED LETTER. It is a saying that "truth is stranger than fictionin proof of which, as the pelting rain ?uite precludes the taking of my evening stroll, will here note down a brief incident of my life. I am a City man, and my offices are situate within half-a-dozen yards of Basinghall street. : I am a bachelor, and in very well-to-do circumstances, despite the prophecy of my friends : that I should come to poverty?a surmise 1 founded upon the fact that during my business existence one or two of my clerks had i made me the victim of their pilferings, on 1 which I had merely discharged tnem, instead ' of prosecuting?a method to which, save for 1 a heinous offence, I had much aversion. But 1 to the incident I would relate. It was one bright, warm July day, about 1 three o'clock of a Saturday afternoon, that I c took a stroll through the Park, in a very 1 thoughtful mood. The truth was, I had been 1 again robbed, but this time to a considerable 1 amount What was I to do? Prosecute? Humph! I scarcely liked to give in; but 1 here was no opportunity of bestowing a sharp ! reprimand and a dismissal, for my clerk had 1 dismissed himself and vanished with the plunder. What was I to do ? To allow it to pass 1 ??J V\A 1 An ATT Kilt frA 1 XT 1 ^ 1 UllllUUlTCU WUU1U LX\J ICllXt-HUf , UUV XVA1 7 , IX . not a crime, as it would but be a temptation 1 for my other clerks to do the same as their absconding brother. No?prosecuted he must . and should be, and serve him right! I thought 1 he could never have kept up such a dashing ( appearance upon the salary?though no mean one?that he received from me. I had just arrived at this sensible conclu- 1 sion, when my attention was attracted by a large New Foundland dog, who, bounding ? round a corner, came right in the face of a little urchin about five summers old?an a3- * 6ault which sent the child backwards. 7.0 1 save himself, the latter instinctively stretched out his small hands and caught the animal " round its neck. The noble brute, as if pressed for time, ' strove to shake off the grasp on his collar, and speedily succeeding in doing so, he continued on his way, while I crossed over to pick up * the screaming little man. He belonged to the lower classes to whom 3 the London streets are their home; so a pat s on the head and the sight of a few pence soon changed the tears to sunshine. I As his chubby legs bore him away, my eyes rested on a small piece of paper like an envel- 3 ope, lying just where the child had fallen, and * disfigured by the mark of the Newfoundland's j broad paw. I picked it up, and turned it over to see its T address. It had a remarkably strange one, being as follows:? _ j "TO my dearest emily." "What ever was I to do with it ? It certain- " ly was some love epistle. Pah! its exposure to the air had not yet freed it from its sickly perfume. Should I destroy it ? It might be of importance. Again I looked at the direction ; as I did so, the adhesive envelope, owing, I suppose, to its contact with the damp grass, opened, and I determined to see the contents, knowing that, whatever it might be, it was safe with me. Taking out the enclosed epistle, I opened it. What did my eyes behold ? Yes, there was no mistake?I could not be deceived in that bold, dashing style of caligraphy : it was that of my cidevant clerk. I now no longer hesitated to read the contents, which began:? "My dearest?my adored Emily? "At last I can brave the self-willed selfishness of my only parent?at last I can clasp you to my heart, and call you my own, my beloved, my wife! "Oh! what rapturous words. Can I be awake, or is it a dream, I hear my dear one ask. How gladly I reply! I am no longer dependent upon a rich but hard father; no, my uncle, of whom I have frequently spoken, is dead, and I am his heir; therefore, darling, can now demand of you to fulfil your promise to elope with me and have our happiness consummated by marriage. On receiving this, hasten to prepare, for on Wednesday next I beseech you, as you love me, to come, as agreed, to 13, A Street. I will have the license ready, and, as you wish, will ' also procure the services of the Rev. Mr. L?, f of St. Andrew's to officiate. You will be true, I know?I feel dearest. I die till you are ' mine?you can alone restore me to life! Adieu, 1 adored angel?adieu till Wednesday ! ] E. B." Though astonished at this epistle of lies and rhapsodies, I easily saw through Mr. Edwin 1 Browalowe's plan. His certainly elegant and 1 gentlemanly appearance had caught the attention of some young stupid, romantic girl, '< evidently rich, perhaps an heiress, or I was mistaken in my cidevant clerk. I determined, ] however, to checkmate his plot and to rescue i the foolish, infatuated girl. For this purpose 1 I hastily took down in my pocket-book the place of rendezvous and the name and church < of the clergyman, who no doubt was also a dupe ' of the wily impostor. I had scarcely refolded the letter when the dog came bounding back. A thought flashed across my brain. I stopped him, fastened the envelope as well as I could, held it before his eyes, looked very severe?the noble animal seemed readily to understand me?made it secure to his collar, turned his head in the direc- 1 tion he had come, and motioned him to go back. He stood for an instant as if doubtful, then slowly trotted forward, stopped, and looked round, I again motioned him onward, when, as ifcovinced, he sprang forward and was soon out of sight. My plan might or might not succeed. Any way, I would try; and the next thing was to find out the clergyman, the Rev. 1 Mr.L . This a directory speedily enabled me to do; and I proceeded at once to his residence. I found him to be a soft, good-natured nervous gentleman, who was quite able to be imposed upon by any lie. I hastened to explain my business: and never shall I forget the poor man's looks of horror when he heard the evil deed to which he unconsciously was to have been made a party. On taking my leave, I begged him not to mention a word of what had passed, and requested his permission to fill his place at 13, A street, as I had a plan by which I might prevent this shameful plot against a young girl's happiness. He readily agreed, and over and over again thanked me for having prevented him from appearing in so scandalous ail HIJUII , ucsiucs ui&u udsuuug uic unit 11 any change were made in time and place, he would let me know. After this, I had but to procure a white, venerable-looking wig and a clerical disguise ?as it was my purpose to represent a minister?and then wait patiently for the eventful evening to arrive. I must own that I felt rather excited when, at about seven o'clock on the Wednesday, I wended my way towards 13, A street. I was rather late, owing to having been slightly delayed by a call I had had to make at Bow street. The affair made me both nervous and es cited. I could certainly, with the clue I hac have arrested Mr. Brownlowe at once. But desired to give a lesson to the young girl, am let her know the true character of the man t whom she would have so reckleessly confide* her happiness. On knocking at No. 13, A street, th door was opened by a rather coarse-lookinj landlady. "Madam," I said mildly, "will you oblig me by giving this note to Mr. Brownlowe ?" "You are the clergyman, I suppose?" sh rejoined, taking it They've been awful anx ious about you." This was good news, for it proved that th* young lady had arrived. The landlady sooi returned, and bade me walk up. I did so, re juesting permission for my clerk to accompa iy me as far as the landing, in case I migh equire him. I followed the woman to a front room, open ng the door of which, she bade me enter. )beved, and beheld my late clerk, handsome y dressed, standing near the fire-place, with i roung, pretty, baby-faced girl resting on hi irm. At first I feared that, despite my white hair lecktie, and clerical appearance, he wouh ecognizeme; but not so; he advanced, say ng, in an off-hand manner: "I am sorry Mr. L should have disap x?inted us at the last moment, sir; but as h< las recommended you in his stead, no doub t is all correct" "I have not the least doubt about it, sir,' [ answered, disguising my voice. "Mr. L? s the last person to throw up an engageraen >n a trivial motive." "Then, sir, I beg you to prooeed at once." "First," I said, "might I ask a few moment'! jrivate conversation with you?" He glanced down at the young lady, whc leemed timidly to look dissent for he iiaid: "Anything, however private, that you hav< ;o say to me, sir, this young lady, soon to b< ny wife, may hear." "Are you so sure of that, Mr. Brownlowe ?' [ said, fixing my eyes upon his. For an instant, I fancied, his cheek blanchec jut, recovering himself he replied : "Yes. Why not sir?" "Oh yes," murmured the young lady, "deal Sdwin; bid him be quick. I fear my father.' "Madam," I said, advancing, "you hav? ^et more to fear the arts of a rogue and s windier." "What, sir?" cried he, fiercely, while th< K)or girl clung to him in terror. "Yes, swindler! I would have spared th< roung lady this unpleasant disclosure had i >een possible, but it was not. Mr. Edwir brownlowe, I arrest you for embezzlement!' ! said, at the same time removing ray wig anc vhiskers. "Great Heaven!" he ejaculated, starting jack, "Mr. G !" Then added, indignant y, "It is false! it is a mistake! Look, fellov ?the lady has fainted!" "Do not disturb yourself; I will get assist mce," I said, interrupting him as he movec <o the door, and opening it myself. I beckoned to the man who had accompa lied me. On entering, I motioned to nr ilerk, whom the officer, going up to, immedi itely arrested. The poor girl, as she at last began to se he accusation was really true, screamed, anc jurst into passionate tears. "My dear young lady," I said, kindly, ta sing her hand, "control your feelings, and bi hankful that you have escaped the snares o in impostor and a thief. I believe this mai las represented himself to you as rich anc veil born. Both statements are false, lie be ng but my clerk, and his riches the mone; le has robbed me of. See, he cannot den1 it." The wretched child?for she seemed littl nore?turned an appealing look at her would oe husband, and seemed about to speak, bu the sullen, almost harsh, expression he turne< ipon his intended victim was enough, and sh >ank weeping into a chair. I motioned th jfficer to remove Brownlowe and have a cal called. Then I waited till the poor girl's grief wa i little less vehement, when I asked her wlier she lived, so that I might take her home. After a while she told me, but on her knee besought me not to let her father know wha she had done. Her protestations of repentance were so sin cere, and her prayers for secrecy so earnest that I, thinking the lesson she had receive) punishment enough, finally consented. On the way home, she informed me she wa the only child of a rich City merchant, am had met Edwin Brownlowe in the Park, wher a trivial accident?brought about, I susjjecl by the gentleman's means?had made ther acquainted. Having, from the corner of the terrace, seei the young lady, whom the event of the ever iug had assuredly made considerably wisei safely in her own home, I returned to mint The next week, Mr. Edwin Brownlowe tool change of air in one of our metropolitan pris ___ ? ens. ? MY LOTTERY TICKETS. It was Saturday night, and the little womai who bears ray name an^l mends my stockings was sitting in a low chair by the fire, zealousl; putting a patch upon the knee of little Tom' trowsers, turning the piece of cloth this wa and that, and holding her head on one side t watch the effect. But the stripes would a] run the wrong way, while the colors were pre vokinglv bright, compared with the faded gai ment. "Never mind that, Mary," said I, "here's chance to throw away your patches. Hurra for a lovely country seat on the Hudson, fift shares of bank stock, a house in town or an) thing else you wish, and all for a dollar!" "Now, Thomas," said she, and when she wis! es to be very severe, she always calls me Thou as, "what are you talking about ?" "A gift enterprise, Mollie; tickets only on dollar, and sure to draw a prize." I read th heading, and displayed the long list of prize "What do you think of that?" shouted 1, tr umphantly. "I think," she said laughingly, "that if yo make so much noise you will wake the baby. Then, seeing that I looked annoyed, she added "but I do not think lotteries are just right, & pecially for church members. Do you ?" "0, nonsense! I never saw a church fair i my life that did not have grab-boxes and lo teries. I should not dare to say how many do lars I have spent on them and never drew an; thing either." She looked roguishly at me. "Don't yo think, then, you are most too old to begin ?" "It may as well be I, as any one, and it no great matter?only a dollar." ^ "I know, Tom," and the wise little womo looked grave, "but we havn't many dollars I throw away;" and she held up the haby'ssocl with a good sized hole in each heel. "An little Tom's school bill comes in next week I laid down my paper and tried to spea convincingly. "Now, Mollie, it is all vei well for a man to jog on day after day, eari ing and spending just so much, but he lik to make a venture once in a while, just for the I, excitement of the thing, if nothing more." I "Yes: but Tom, don't you remember the i share in the oil well ?" 0 "Y-c-c-cs," said I, slowly, for it is rather an d unpleasant topic of conversation to me. I had invested the little sum left me by a maiden e aunt, in an oil company, against Mary's good g judgment. Capital, a million of dollars, more or less; oil wells flowing day and night on the e land of the next company, just over the fence. I was very much elated, and promised Mary, e among other things, a new black silk dress we - had seen displayed in some show window. Well, they bored and bored, throwing up a e great deal of dirt, and a great deal of water, 1 but not a drop of oil; and just as they were !- about to begin in a new spot, the treasurer, or - some one else, ran away with the funds, and t that ended the whole affair. Mary, like a good little woman, never reproached me, but when - I came home one day and found her turning t her old merino inside out and upside down, 1 - felt?well, I can't tell just how ; but I thought i of that black silk dress. s "And oh!" she continued, "don'tyou rememKni* fVin r\Q tent fnr tlio flnnr sifter ?" nnrl sVia , laughed outright. So did I when I thought 1 of the spectacle I presented when I chanced - to turn the crank the wrong way, and the flour flew in every direction. But I haa made up my mind to buy one of e these tickets. Though Mar}' sighed, she said t no more. I invested, on my way down town, Monday morning, and thought while I was ' about it, I might as well buy one for Mary and - one for little Tom, too. I showed them to her t when I went home to dinner at noon. "Not three 1 O, Tom, how could yon?" and she looked really grieved. While I, thinking 3 it a pity, if I must account for every penny I spent, assumed the dignified air which the oc) casion seemed to demand, and the meal passed in silence. I went home at night to find her i sewing as usual. My conscience gave an unj comfortable twinge as she looked up pleasantly, and then turned to the great basket of ' work. If she only had a sewing machine! Perhaps I should araw one, and I grew quite I happy over the thought, imagining her surprise when I sent it home unexpectedly. She would not think me unwise then, in haying : bought the the tickets. ' Little Tom interrupted my reverie with? 3 "0, father, old Susan who used to work for us, i has been here to-day. She has burned her hand so she can't do anything. Mrs. Briggs i gave her a dollar. Mother said she couldn't give her any money, but she put some salve i on her hand and gave her something to eat." t I did not look at Mary, but contrived to turn i Tom's thoughts into another channel. > xr r nor was x uny uiuic uuunui wtuicuu ^cwciug 1 through the hall the next day, to overhear her conversation with a friend. "No," she was I saying, "I shall not subscribe to the reading r club this winter. I can't very well spare the e two dollars." Well, the day went by without our saying - anything more about it. I grew a little nerv1 ous as tne time for drawing the prizes drew near, and opened my morning paper with - some trepidation. At length my eyes were 7 greeted with a long list of the fortunate num bers which had drawn the largest prizes. I read them all over carefully from first to last e and then, more carefully still, from last to first. 1 But in vain ; my numbers were not there. In a day or two another list appeared, which - I read with the same result. At last, among e those which drew a prize worth less than one f dollar, I found my own. i "Tom," said a friend whose office was next 1 to mine, "don'tyou think Jones was fool enough - to buy a ticket in that gift enterprise ?" j I winced, but said nothing, and he went on. f "What do you think he drew ? A dauby print of Washington, and a pair of eighteen carat e brass sleeve buttons! He consoles himself - with the adage, "live and learn," but I think t 'a fool and his money,' etc., more appropriate." 1 I made some reply and left him. I thought e I would not carry home the newspaper that e night. I was ashamed to have Mary see it. b But as we sat before the fire after tea:? "Why, Tom," said she, "where's your pas per?" 1 had intended to say that I forgot it. e But I defy any one to look into Mary's clear brown eyes and tell a lie.' So I just told her s the whole truth. t I believe if she had scolded, or said, "I told you so," I should have put on my hat and left i- the house; but her only remark was "Never ;, mind, Tom, we'll know better another time." 1 Do you wonder that I think her a wonderful little woman? I made a great resolve that s night, and I have not bought a lunch down i town nor smoked a cigar for a month. Even e my pipe and paper of Killiknick are laid away t, on a high shelf out of the way of temptation, a And when Mary asks what has become of my pipe, I look sober and reply, that I think a smoking disagrees with me, but I laugh to myi self as I think of the sewing machine that will stand in the corner by the window before many J. months, and the rest that will come to those k busy fingers. I even stepped into Brown & i- Smith's to inquire the price of their best silks; but that I dure not think of at present. It has been, after all, a good lesson, but I think it will be my last, as it was my first, ex11 perience in lottery tickets. i, Y How Some of our Merchants Have s Kiskn.?A few years ago a large drug firm in Y this city advertised for a boy. Next day the 0 store was thronged with applicants, among them a queer-looking little fellow accompanied by a woman, who proved to be his aunt, ** in lieu of faithless parents, by whom lie had been abandoned. Looking at the little waif, a the merchant in the store promptly said: b "Can't take him; places all full; besides he's y too small." "I know he is small," said the '* woman, "but he is willing and faithful." There was a twinkle in the boy's eye which made the i- merchant think again. A partner in the firm i- volunteered to remark that he "did not see what they wanted of such a boy?he wasn't e bigger than a pint of cider." But after cone sulfation the boy was set to work. A few days s. later a call was made on the boys in the store i- for some one to stay all night. The prompt response of the little fellow contrasted well i Ai, ikn wnl<iA^nt\/iA A^nra Tv* fVin mulrllo u Willi 11IC IClUlUllllt Ul ULIlViOl Jilt tub III1UUU. of the night the merchant looked in to see if I: all was right in the store, and presently diss covered his youthful protege busy scissoring labels. "What are you doing?" said he; "I u did not tell you to work nights." "I know t- you did not tell me so, but I thought I might 1- as well be doing something." In the mornf ing the cashier got orders to "double that boy's wages, for he's willing." Only a few weeks u elapsed before a show of wild beasts passed through the streets, and very naturally all is bauds in the store rushed to witness the spectacle. A thief saw his opportunity, and en,n tered at the rear door to seize something, but to in a twinkling found himself firmly clutched :s by the diminutive clerk aforesaid, and aftei id a struggle was captured. Not only was rob." bery prevented, but valuable articles taker ,k from other stores were recovered. When ask w ed by the merchant why he stayed behind tc a- watch when all others quit their work, the re es ply was: "You told me never to leave th< store when others were absent, and I thought I'd stay." Orders were immediately given once more: "Double that boy's wages; he is willing and faithful." To-day that boy is getting a salary of $2,500, and next Januaiy will become a member of the firm?Republic. IPfttHxttiw fading. From the New York World. FROM THE FROZEN SEAS. Captain C. F. Hall, the returned Arctic Explorer, last night, at a late hour, paid a visit, with a friend, to the editorial rooms of the World. The following particulars of the conversation which took place at the time cannot but interest our readers, and will supplement the report of his explorations which Captain " r i tt. 11 nail nos maae to iur. xxeury unuueu, ui mis city, and which will soon be ready for publication. Captain Hall is a good specimen of a manly, hardy and unpretentious sailor, who talks in a simple, straightforward manner of his experience, and makes light of having spent about five years within the frozen circle ot the arctic zone. He looks stout and hearty, and apparently none the worse for his rough experience. It may seem strange, after such a long absence, that he is eager to return to the scene of his adventures; yet he expresses strong hopes to start next year on an expedition in search of the North Pole. HIS COMPANIONS. He is accompanied by three Esquimaux, a husband with his wife and adopted child, who bear the English names of Joe, Hannah and Silvia. They understand our language, having visited this country at the time Captain Hall was last here, and are pleasant and intelligent looking persons. They are lowbrowed, small-eyed, thick-set, with straight hair, and chubby, ungraceful forms; characteristic of their race, and quite different from our idea of beauty. They resemble somewhat the lower class of German and Irish emigrants, and are a little like the Chinese in appearance. They enjoy civilized life very much, and are quite pleased to make a second visit to the United States. The climate is rather unsuited to their constitutions and usual mode of life, but they soon get accustomed to it HIS JOURNAL. f TT n i? i. ?x? u: Uaptam nan nas a uuuiucr ui tunuoitica with nim, one of the most interesting of which is his journal, a large blank book, full of notes hastily written with lead pencil at all times and places, and often under the most unfavorable circumstances. Its pages contain the record of many weary days of hardship and suffering, and accounts of moving incidents by flood and field, such as are rarely to be met with. In order to prevent the writing from being blurred, the pages have been dipped in a preparation of glue made from fishes, so that it retains a sticky feeling. LIFE UP NORTH. The Captain gave a vivid description of his experience within the Arctic circle, and his life among the Esquimaux. The largest body of the latter he ever saw collected together was only 125. This was at a little vulage near Repulse Bay, and was a rather unusual circumstance. The solitary nature of the life led by the explorers may therefore be imagined. All alone in the frozen waste, with hardlv a living thing to be met with ; living like moles, in underground houses, with dogs and Esquimaux, so huddled together that the human could scarcely be distinguished from the brute; shut out from all intercourse with the outer world, excepting the scraps of news brought by passing whale ships; such an'existence only varied by occasional expeditions into the interior on sledges drawn by dogs, can hardly be called endurable, let alone pleasant. Yet Captain Hall did not complain of the life. HOW HE LIKED IT. After his arrival there he found, as did also his Esquimaux companions who had visited this country with him, that it was rather hard at first to return to their old habits, but in time he got accustomed to it. "Did you eat raw meat, Captain ?" "Oh, yes, most of the time. We sometimes had it cooked, but usually liked it better raw. You've no idea how good it is that way. In fact, for that country raw meat is almost in- j dispensable, though, I don't think it would do in this climate." "Is it true that the Esquimaux like it best when it is tainted ?" "Yes, and the more so the better. When meat has just been killed, and is fresh, it isn't! near as good, but when it has got to smell quite bad, and especially after it has been frozen, then it tastes a great deal better." "Are not the Esquimaux a very dirty peo"Well, yes, it must be admitted they are? but their mode of life has much to do with this. They have great trouble to get water enough to arink except by the sea shore, and the means of preserving cleanliness are limited." "How do you find the change to this country affects you ?" "Oh! very much! I'm all upset and can scarcely do anything steadily. The food is so different, and there is so much noise everywhere, and I feel the change in the air greatly. It is very close and hot here. Why, when I first got on ship-board to come home, after being so much in the open air, I could hardly sleep at night, and I find it hard to do so now." "What do you think caused the loss of Sir John Franklin's company ?" "Treachery, sir. They were deserted by the natives, and left without fresh provisions or means of getting them. But for this some of them might have been saved." "What is the result of your researches in relation to Franklin ?" "Brief!v this: We have settled beyond a ' ? ......IK. J_- J it. - doubt tbat framtnn aeiumiy uiscuvereu me Northwestern passage. On his previous voyages he had sailed eastward as far as Cape Herschell, and now we have shown that he reached the same point going westward and thus completed the chain of communication. To him, therefore, belongs the honor of having made the discovery, though Captain McClure ' has received the reward offered by the British government to the person who should succeed in the effort." "Are you satisfied with the result?" "Well, yes; considering how much we did, i it is useless to think of how much more might have been accomplished. If the Esquimaux, i who went with me, had not been so timid, or i if I had had a body of resolute white men to I back me, I think I might have gone on. We [ were lucky enough to meet with and capture a herd of seventy-nine musk oxen and seven teen reindeer, which would have f>een provis; ion for a month, and would have allowed us [ to explore much further, but the Esquimaux were afraid of some hostile tribes of natives in the vicinity, and absolutely refused to go on." i "Did you have any great obstacle to con tend with?" 1 ) "Yes; during the first three years we suf fered a good deal, but afterwards had not so ; much trouble." "Were your compasses at all affected by your proximity to the North Pole?" "Yes, so much so that at onetime they were useless; ot one place the variation was over ninety degrees.*' "How about the long seasons of darkness?" "Those we were fortunate in avoiding, by i wintering within the line where the sun's rays are visible all the time." "Why cannot steam be used for Arctic exploration ?" "So it can. There are large supplies of coal 1 on the west coast of Greenland, and I think . that with steam the entire Northwest passage might be made in a single season." i "Do you think leading such a solitary life has any tendency to bring men back to the savage state?" ] "Well, I hardly know?though the thought 1 did strike me once or twice. Inr a man who ! is fond of society, it is a terrible existence, but i ignorant men bear it pretty wen." what's the news ? 1 Naturally, after a five years' absence, during which he had been almost entirely cut off , from the world, Captain Hall was eager to learn what had transpired during the interval. The completion of the Pacific Railroad, new Atlantic cable, and other events of like importance, were utterly unknown to him, and were listened to with as greedy ears as Desdedemona gave to Othello's love tale. Cap in Hall will remain in the city a few days, and then leave for his home in Cincinnati. ? ? > ? From the Lclpslc Daheiin. BEGGING AS~A FINE ART. It is difficult at this moment to determine what institution London still lacks, since it is : vory easy for one at all acquainted with the city, to count upon his fingers the ones it al- i ready has. Stealing, begging, and pocketpicking are systematically taught in secret, , but up to a very recent period no one dared to established upon the Thames a school where ; begging, as a profession, is actually taught, and where the pupils have the advantages of lectures and the use of disguises. "What do you mean ? Is that humbug, or ] not V' I asked of my friend, who was an adept i in city ways. "No, that is the troth," he replied, and continued making his toilet, as though discussing one of the commonest questions of the day. "There is the name of the professor , and his residence, No. 21 Princess street, St. Giles." , "What is his name ?" , "Roonay." , "I have the greatest desire to take a course ( of lessons, in order to give the world the re suit of my observations." "Why not do it then ?" "In that case I must hurry." i "Why ? Do you fear that the seats will be , all engaged ?" "Not that, but rather that the police will , be apt to close the academy as soon as possi- i ble. "The police ? Oh, no! Roonay keeps with- , in the law, so as not to come in contact with ' it;' , 1 On the next day I sought Prof. Roonay. I did not in the least believe in his existence, : but thought that the announcement of his having opened such an academy was one of those bold assertions so often made by the press in , order to fill their empty columns. After considerable hunting, I at last found myself face to face with Professor Roonay, whom I found dressed in elegant style. "How can I serve you?" he asked, on my entrance, rising from his seat. The sudden question rather disconcerted me. "I wish to take a course of lessons in the art of begging with success," said I, after a short pause. At the words "with success," I could not suppress a smile. "You did not come here to make the art of begging, in the true sense of the word, a means , of your future support: it was your curiosity which led you here, was it not ?" "Yes, that is so," I answered. "Nevertheless," continued I, "I have sought you with the earnest desire of hearing you lecture, and securing a seat. I can pay the required fee now." Saying this, I took out ray purse. "Keep your money in your pocket," said Roonay, with a gesture of contempt. "I cannot allow your name to be placed upon the <-if mv npndomv. for I take none here j i ? but those having a firm determination to pursue, for the future, the paths I show them. "But I will," continued he, "make an exception for once. I say for once, in your case, in order to convince you that there is not so much humbug in Loudon as the foreign press would have it appear. Please follow me." I had scarcely time to recover from my astonishment at his words, when Roonay led me into a wide hall which opened into a large room?the academy proper?the rear of which was handsomely decorated, and at this end was placed a desk for the lecturer. On the walls were hung many well-executed paintings, representing many devices of beggars in different countries, from the earliest days to the present time. The collection was one of considerable merit in a historical point of view. "That side of the room represents London only," said Roonay, pointing to a collection showing the way of London beggars. We then entered a second room, which contained the appliances of the profession. Here were closets with glass doors, containing pieces made of what appeared to be papier mache, representing shot and stab wounds in various stages of healing. These, by simple mechanical contrivances, could be applied to any part of the body. In other parts of the room were to be seen many disguises, coats, little wagons for the the use of pretended cripples, beggar clothing covered with medals for deeds of Imaginary bravery and heroism, boxes with various inscriptions on them, umbrellas which looked as though made in the early days of art, and which could be used as weapons of defence, &c. Upon the tables were strewn certificates for the use of pupils, testifying to their poverty or misfortunes; these were all signed by Koonay, and had the seal of the academy attached. The third room we entered was the most interesting of all. Here we found kennels of dogs of various breeds. "This do? can alone earn more than a hundred guineas a month," said the professor, pointing to a small hound whose ugly countenance would alone move one to pity, "There, Moss, beg of this gentleman," continued he, placing on the dog's back one of the boxes Ave had seen before. The dog began by loud yelps, which he soon changed to a Ioav Avhine, at the same lime approaching me nodding his head, then stood on his hind-legs, and reaching out his paw, pulled at my coat-taiL This he kept up and would not bfc quiet until I placed a piece of money in the box. "His neighbor, Armstrong, begs in a dif> ferent way from that," said Koonay, at the same time opening the kennel and letting out a large bull-dog, upon whose back was a huge box on which was painted "Your money or your life." "Do not be afraid, he will not hurt you if you only place your purse in the box." At a signal from his master the immense dog showed his teeth and snapped at me, arid as I did not make a movement for my money, made a grab at my throat. "That is not begging," cried I, indignantly, "that is modern highway robbery." Having no remedy, I placed the contents of my wallet in Armstrong's box. < "Here the two extremes meet," said Roonay, 3hrugging his shoulders. "This dog is a master of his art." Just then the bell rang. Roonay was needed in the parlor. As we retraced our steps he told me that it was his intention to establish a large factory in connection with the institute, where he would manufacture every thing required in the profession of begging. On reaching the door Koonay offered me his hand, but I drew back, experiencing at the moment the same sensation a traveler must feel while lying on the grass and having a toad crawl over his face. When in the street again, I was about to call a carriage, but was reminded of my empty Eurse. The modern professor of begging and ighway robbery had relieved me of my last penny, and I had no redress. On the contrary, had I commenced an action against him, I doubt not that he would have recovered his tuition from me, for he had given me private lessons. SINGULAR SUPERSTITIONS. One William Ellis published a curious book in 1750, in which we find this charm for the cure of the king's evil: A girl at Gaddespen 1 having the evil in her feet from infancy, at eleven years old lost one of her toes by it, and was so bad she could hardly walk. A beg- jar-woman coming to the door, and hearing it said, that if they would cut off the hind-leg, ind the fore-leg on the contrary side of that, )f a toad, and she wear them in a silken bag about her neck it would certainly cure her; but it was to be observed that, on the toad's 1 losing its legs, it was to be turned loose abroad, and as it pined, wasted and died, the distemper would likewise waste and die; which hap- ( pened accordingly, for the girl was entirely cured by it, never having had the evil afterwards. In various parts of Scotland the following barbarous expedient is even now had recourse to for children infected with worms: A quantity of the common garden-worm is collected and tied in a common cloth bag, and then cruelly submitted to a painful and lingering death, by exposure to the influence of a slow fire, by which they are gradually roasted alive. TVioJf /la/inmnnodfl romninQ flrp t.liMl ftnnlipd. as a salve, to the stomach of a child. A child was suffering from thrush, when its nurse, a Yorkshire woman, procuring a frog, held it for a time to the mouth of the child, that the creature might imbibe the ailment and leave its own health in exchange. The 3ame practitioner had herself occasional attacks of cramp, in anticipation of which she kept a supply of spiders in a pill-box, swallowing one whenever she was threatened with the suffering. When the whooping cough attacked the children of whom she was in charge, she feasted them on roast hedgehog, imposing it on them as a tender rabbit. Sne also borrowed a piebald horse, and having it brought into the yard, carried each of the afflicted children out in succession, wrapped in a blanket, and passed them thrice unaer the animal's belly. These attempts being unsuccessful, each child was condemned to wear a hairy caterpillar in a bag round its neck. In Lancashire, and some of the adjoining counties, the following practice is prevalent for curing warts: Steal a piece of meat from a butcher shop or from his tray, and after having well rubbed the parts affected, with the purloined meat, bury it under a gateway or in some secluded spot. If this be done so secretly as to escape detection, as the meat decays, so will the warts disappear. In order to get rid of a sty on the eye, it is customary for the sufferer, on the first night of the new moon, to procure the tail of a black cat, and after pulling from it one hair, rub the tip nine times over the pust ile. The right forefoot of a hare worn constantly in the pocket is deemed an excellent amulet against the rheumatism. A very common charm resorted to for the cure of that painful disorder, the cramp, consists in wearing about nntnlln nf a o)mon nr lnmh Lilt5 p^lfiUU 1/11G Vi u oiivv|/ v* popularly known as tlie cramp-bone. It is to be worn as near the skin as possible, and at night it must be laid under the pillow. In Germany, the tongue of the capercalle is considered by many an excellent preservative against the pains of dentition. Sewn up in a little bag, it is hung round the infant s neck. Among the Swiss it was generally believed that a few drops of the blood of the steinbock, poured into a glass of wine and taken before going to bed, produced immediately a violent perspiration, and cured all sorts of diseases. The ball with which he was shot had its use ; for water into which it was dipped acquired valuable medicinal properties. The gemsball, a sort of bezoar or morbid secretion, sometimes found in the stomach of this animal, was used as a medicine. It used to sell for its weight in gold. The horn of a stag was long supposed to possess great medicinal virtues, especially the right or off horn, which it was said, was rarely found and consequently was the more highly prized. Michael Drayton, in a note to his description of a stag hunt, says that the hart weepeth at his dying; his tears are held to be precious in medicine. Deer horns, when in the velvet, are eagerly bought by the Chinese, being esteemed a valuable medicament. Among the Turkomans the horns and hoofs of the goat are burned to ashes and are then pmnlnved for the called places on camels. The blood of a goat was once thought a so;?" ereign remedy for the stone. The goat was fed with saxifragous herbs, and such as were conceived of power to break the stone. The blood of a goat, when fresh and Wftrm, had the property, it was supposed, of making soft the diamond, the hardest?jfrall stones. The gall of a bear is valued by the Chinese as its weight in gold. . KEYS TO SUCCESS. Man is like a snow ball. Leave him. lying in idleness againBt the sunny fence of prosperity, and all the good that is in him mehs like butter; but kick him round and Ire gathers strength with every successive revolution, until he grows into an avalanche. To succeed, you must keep moving. The world-renowned Rothschilds ascribe their success to the following rules: Be off hand; make a bargain at once. Never have anything to do with an unlucky man or plan. Be cautious and bold. David Ricardo, the celebrated political economist, had what he called bis own three golden rules, the observance of which he used j to press on his friends. They were: Never refuse an opionion when you can get it. Cut short your losses. Let your profits run on. John Jacob Astor, when requested to furnish incidents of his life, replied, "my actions must make my life." Stephen Girard's fundamental maxim was, "take care of the cents, the dollars will take care of themselves.'' Robert Bonner, who made a fortune in four years out of the New York Ledger, attributes his success entirely to his "persistent, repeated, and generous advertising. Amos Lawrence said, when asked for advice : "Young man, base all your actions upon a principle of right; preserve your integrity of character, and in doing this never reckon the cost." "Many a man has lost being a great man by splitting into two middling ones."?Phillips. John Freedley's never-varying motto was: "Self-dependence and self-reliance." He says: "My observations through life satisfy me that at least nine-tenths of those most successful in business, start in life without any reliance except upon their own heads and hands?hoe +liai? Awn mm fmm t.lifl ilimn" VUVti V11U A VTT AAVM VMW J Nicholas Longworth, the Cincinnati millionaire, says: "I have always had two things before me; do what vou undertake thoroughly. Be faithful in all accepted trusts." P. T. Barnum, the noted exhibitor, ascribed his success in accumulating a million dollars in ten. years, to the unlimited use of?printer's ink. John Randolph said: "Mr. Speaker, I have found the philosopher's stone ; it is, 'Pay as you go.'" A. T. Stewart, merchant prince of New York, says: "No abilities, however splendid, can command success without intense labor and persevering application." "Half the failures in life arise from the pulling in of one's horse as he is leaping."?Chopin. "The world estimates men by their success in life; and, by general consent, success is evidence of superiority."?Everett. There is nothing like a fixed, steady aim, with an honorable purpose. It dignifies your nature, and insures your success.?Beeeher. GROUND TO POWDER. A few weeks since I stood by the grave of Thomas Paine, in the town of New Rochelle. A plain monument marks the site of his former home, and his final resting-place. Erected by a few friends, it is covered with significant quotations from his politico-religious writings. As I stood there and reflected on his genius, his apparent power and his real weakness, I thought of Christ's striking prophecy, and its singular historical fulfillment: "On whomsoever this stone shall folk it shall grind him to powder." \ Thomas Paine's career was full of promise. He wielded a pen whose popular power has rarely been equalled, never, perhaps, excelled. His "Rights of Man," published in England i? .r x* .1. _ TT"??i. o during ine exciting bccucd ui uuc x icuvu xvcyvlution, reached the unparalleled circulation of over a million of copies. His "Cmnmon Sense," published six months before the Declaration of Independence, is said to have severed the last links that bound the colonies to the mother country. Six days before the battle of Trenton the first number of his "American Crisis" was read at the head of every regiment, and first aroused, it is said, the drooping ardor of the disheartened people. When at length that independence was secured, to which his various services in the cabinet, the field, and with the pen, had afforded to mean conclusion, no honors seemed to a triumphant Republic too great to be lavished upon him. General Washington received him with peculiar honors as his guest. The National Congress' appropriated 83,000 as a testimonial of a nation's esteem. New York presented him with a magnificent estate of three hundred acres at New Rochelle. Pennsylvania voted him a gratuity of $2,500. New Jersey offered him a homestead within her borders. Virginia failed only by a single vote in the attempted appropriation to him of a tract of land valuea at $20,000. "It is doubtful," says the historian Botta, "whether any writer ever possessed in a higher aegree the art of moving and guiding the multitude at his will." "No writer," says Thomas Jefferson, "has exceeded Paine, m familiarity of style, in perspicuity of expression, happiness of elucidation, and in simple and unassuming language." Such was the man, who, drinking in the irreligious philosophy of the French Encyclopaedists, undertook in his "Age of Reason," at the end of an otherwise memorable life, to subvert the principles, and undermine the authority of the Cnristian religion. He did not deny, but asserted the existence of a God, the claims of conscience, and the reality of an immortal existence beyond the grave. He simply set his lance in poise to demolish the Cross of Christ. In vain did Benjamin Franklin beseech him to repress* a work so shocking to the religious sensibilities of mankind. "A mong us," said the sage, "it is not necessary, as among the Hottentots, that a youth, to be raised into the company of men, should prove his manhood by beating his mother." raine persisted. His "Age of Reason" for the moment out-rivalled the wide spread popularity of his "Common Sense" and his "Rights of Man." The Church of Christ seemed for the moment to tremble under the blow. Christian men feared for the safety of their faith before an attack so audacious, from a pen so powerful. But the lance that struck the Cross of Christ was shivered into a thousand pieces in his hand. His assault was as powerless to move the Rock of Ages as the thunder storm to shake the granite hills over whose head its harmless anger plays. The stone which the builders refused fell upon him and ground him to powder. He is left without a sect, and almost without a follower. His services to liberty have been obliterated from the memory of mankind, by his assaults upon religion. He is known to but few save as a representative ?of the coarsest infidelity. Even the broad-minded Quakers would not yield to his bones a final resting-place in their Christian burial ground. He was interred upon his own farm. But even death brought no repose. ..Half a century ago, from his violated tomb; his remains were removed to England. An enthusiastic friend anticipated for them there a warm welcome, nut none was so poor as to do them reverence. Dispersed, as by the judgments of Almighty God, not even the place of their fin51 burial has history recorded. His works have well nigh disappeared from fame, his very bones from their grave. And the name and life of Thomas Paine remain a monumental testimonial to the truth of the prophecy, "On whomsoever it shall fall, it shall grind him to powder."?Rev. Lyman Abbott. Goldsmith says; "True eloquence does not consist, as the rhetoricians assure us, in saying great things in a sublime style, for there is, properly speaking, no such thing as a sublime style?the sublimity lies only in the thing; and when that is not so, the language may be turgid, affected, metaphorical, but not affecting."