1878-09-27; Clare County Press |
Previous | 1 of 4 | Next |
|
small (250x250 max)
medium (500x500 max)
large ( > 500x500)
Full Resolution
|
This page
All
Subset
|
Loading content ...
-sfH^P*—*--
"^*wwc3JEaer»^ia^amB!B^fiiS4- ~tw^k -,-—i-S
r
£7"^ £/
li*l-,t-'l°-H"yrVlH1»ta«^»
"V*"
-*»_^--
TC?"^
/,
Srisiais e"_ii.i_.
Poor frial* PMli|* lost Ms-wife,
She charm, 'an**"*.comfort of his life;
He iaonrnad her—not like modern men—
Kos-"!sdies-vere-wor_haTinjrtjaieD. "*;."! "'■
SBe world was alterM in hifi view, '" - ** ' -
All things put on a.yeHo.w..h**'J 5
Even ladies^ once his chief delight,
Wejs npw offensive to his-sight;
In short, he pined and looked so ill,
_ She doctor hoped to maSe a hill.
At last, he made a vo-sr to fly, -
And hid himself from every eye; _ ~
- Soak up his lodgings in a t^ood,
'So tarn a hermit and grow good.
He had a son. now yon mnst know,
. Ah ont a twelvemonth old or so;
Him Bhflip tools; up in Ms arms,
To snatch him from all female charms, "
Intending he should never know
ffihere were such things as girls below, '
But lead an honest hermit's, life; -
lest he, likewise, might lose his wife. ^
Ihe place he chose for his retreat
Was once a lions country seat; -
Par in a wild, romantic wood,
The hermit's little cottage stood,
Hid, by the trees, from humag. view—
The son himself could scarce get through.
A littlo garden, tilled with care,,
Supplied them with their daily fare;
'B'resh water-cresses from the spring—
Turnips or greens, or some such thing—
Hermits don't care much what they eat,
And appetite can make it sweet 1
'Twas here our little hermit grew—
His father taught him all he knew,
Adapting, like a cheerful sage,
His lessons to the pupil s age.
At five" years old, he showed him flowers,
Taught him their -various names and-powers;
Taught hifit t^-hlow upon areed, '"■-•.
To say his prayers and get the creed.
*- At ten, he lectured him on herbs
(Better than learning nouns and verbs),
The names and qualities of trees,
"Effannsrs aid customs of the bees;
Then talked of oysters full of pearls,
But not one word about the girls.
At fifteen years, he turned his eyes
To flew the wondeis of the skies j - ' ' ■
Called ali the stars by their right Dames,
As you -weald call on John or James ;
And showed him all the, Bigns above,
But not a whisper about love.
And now Sis sixteenth year was nigh,
And yet he had aoi learned to sigh j
Had sleep and appetite to spare;
He couid not tell the name of care;
And all because he did not know . •
There were such things as girls below,
But now a tempest raged around—
The hermit's Jittieuest^aB drowned—
Good-by, then, too, poor Philip's crop;
It did noftleava a. turnip fop.
Poor Philip grieved, and his son, too—
They prayefi—they knew not what to do;
If they were hermits, they must live,
And wolves have not much alms to give.
Now, in Ms native town, he knew * . , .
He had disciples—rich ones, too—
Who woi*ld not let him beg in vain,
But set the hermit up again.
But what to do with his young son—
"Eray tell me what you would have done 2
Take him to town he was afraid,
3**"or what if he should see a maid! ,.. v.
In love, as sure as he had eyes, * **-**'--
Then any quartity of sighs!
leave him at horns? Tbe wolves, the bears-
Poor Philip had a father's fears!
In short, he knew not what to do,
But thought, at last, "he'd -take him,too ;
And so, withijuly pious care, --'•"*
He counts his beads ta anxious, prayer--.
Intended aa- a sort o" charm, '
To keep his darling lad from harm}. *
That is, from pretty ladies'-wiles,
"Especially their eye3 and smi'es—
Then brushed h*s coat of silver gray,
And no^r you see them on their way.
It was a ttfWn, they all agree,
Where there was everything to see,
As paintings, staiaes. and so on— " 5 , * •
All that men love to look upon.
Gur little lad, yoa may suppose,
Had never seen so many shows;
He stands, wic'a open mouth aad eyes,-
like one just fallen from the skies;
Pointing at everything he sees—
"What's this2, Wha;'s that? Oh, here, what's
these?"
At last he epies •*. charming th'ig
That men call angel when they sing;—
Young lady, when they Bpeakin prose;
Sweet thing! as everybody knows.
»;:
'' ** - ~r -~fl tin -xr "rT^*****"*' -i-> <
.*••■
■®i[-_.* -_ 00B $$3$$fi&$.
J Oi^f^fffll
_•
Inscription: $1.50 per Annum. CLAKE, MICHIGAN, FMJ|AY, SEPTEMBER 27rl87S. Single' Copies: Five Gents,
Transported, ravished at the sight,
He feels a strange but sweet delight.
'■ What's this ? .What's this ? Oh, heavens!" he
" That looks so sweetly -sith its eyes—
Oh. shall I catch ii? Is it tame?;
What is it, father ? What's :"ts name?"
"Poor Philip fcne^-F not what to- say^ ^ j
But tried to tuM'his e j es away ;
He crossed himself * aud made a vow,
*■* ,Tis as I feared, all's over now;
Then, prithee, have thy wits let loose ?
And will it sing, toe, will it sing?
Oh, come, come quickly, let us run;
That's a good father," catch me one!
We'll take it with us to our cell—
Indeed I indeed, III treat it well!"
cries,
THE OCJE.—N*.
likeness of Heaven! agent of power!
Man is thy victim, and shipwrecks thy dower ;
Spices and jewels, from valley and sea,
Armies and.banners are buried in thee! -
What are the riches of Mexico's mines
To the wealth that far down in thy deep water shines?
Proud navies that cover the conquering west,
Thou fling'st them to death with one heave of thy
breast.
"From the high hills that view tf*y wreck-making
shore, - ' ,. "/>
When the bride of the mariner shrieks at thy roar;
*When,like lambs in the tempest, or mews in the blast;
O'er thy ridge-broken billows the canvas is cast;
How humbling to one with a heart and a soul,
To louk on thy greatness, and list to its roll;
To think how that heart in cold ashes shall be,
Whi e the voice of eternity rises /rom thee.'
Yes 2 where are the cities of Thebes and of Tyre ?
Swept from ihe nations, like sparks from the fire;
The glory of Athens, the splendor of Borne ?
Dissolved, and forever, like dew in the foam.
But thou art almighty, eternal, sublime—
Unweakened, nnwa&tea—twin brother of time;
■Fleets, tempests, nor nations, thy glory can bow ;
As the stars firsu beheld thee still chainless art thou!
THE COSBEMEO SEJSTDlElii
A cold, stormy night in the month of
March, 1807, Marshal Lefebvre, with
27,000 "French troops, had invested
Dantzic. The city was garrisoned by
17,000 Bussian and Prussian soldiers,
and these, together with 20,000 or 30,000
well-armed citizens, presented nearly
double the force which could be brought
to the assault. So there was need" of
the utmost vigilance on the part of the
sentinels, for a desperate sortie from the
garrison, made unawares, might prove
calamitous.
At midnight Jerome Dubois was
placed upon one of the most important
posts in the advance line of pickets, it
it being upon a. narrow strip of land
raised above the marshy flat, called the
peninsula of Nehrung. For more than
an hour he paced Ms lonesome beat
without heariDg more than the moaning
of the wind and the driving of the rain.
At length, however, another sound
broke upon his ear. He stopped and
listened, and presently he called:
"Who's there?"
The only answer was a moaning sound.
He called again, and this time he
heard something like the cry of a child,
and pretty soon an object came toward
him out of the darkness. With a quick,
emphatic movement he brought his musket to the charge, and ordered the intruder to halt.
"Mercy!" exclaimed a childish voice;
"don't shoot me! I am Natalie. Don't
you know me ?"
"Heavens!" cried Jerome, elevating
the muzzle- of his piece.- "Is it you,
dear child 2."
"Yes; and you are good, Jerome.
Oh, you will come and help mamma!
Oome, she is dying.!"
If was certainly Natalie, a little girl
only 8 years old, daugiiter of Lisette
Yaillant. Lisette was the wife of
Pierre Taillant, a sergeant in Jerome's
own regiment, and was with the army
in capacity of nurse.
" Why, how is this, my child ?" said
Jerome, taking the little one by the
arm*. " What is it about your mother ?"
"Oh, good Jerome, you can hear her
now. Hark!" ' '
The sentinel bent his ear, but could
hew only the wind and the sain.
"lamma is in the dreadful mud,"
said the child, "and ia dying. She is
raotfair away. Ob, lean hear her crying.1"
By degrees Jerome gathered from
Hatalie that her father had taken her
out with him in the morning, and that
ia the evening when the storm cams on
hex mother came after her. The sergeant hacl offeredto mad a man back
to the camp wifch his wife; but she pre-
j* fexrerd..to; "ffeturn alone, *feeiifig sure that
she should meet with no trouble. The
way, however, had become dark and uncertain, and she had lost the'path, and
wandered off to the edge of the morass,
where she .had-sunk into the slpi't mud.
"Oh, good' Jerome,""cried the little
one," seizing the man's hand, "can't
you hear her ? She will die if you do
not come and help her'!"
At that moment the sentinel fancied
he heard the wail of the unfortunate
woman. What should he do? Lisette,
the good,', the beautiful^ the tenderhearted Lisette, was in mortal danger,
and it was in his power to save her. It
was not in his heart to withstand the
pleadings of the child. He could go
and rescue the nurse, and return to his
post without detection. At all events,
he could not, refuse the childish pleader.
"Give*Me yotir hand, Natalie. I'll
go with you."
With a cry of joy the child sprung to
the soldier's side, and, when she had
secured his hand, she hurried him along
toward the place where she had left her
mother. & It seemed a long distance, to
Jerome, ian3!once he stopped as though
he would turn back. He did not fear
death, but he feared dishonor.
" Hark!" uttered the child.
The soldier listened and plainly heard
the voice of the sti_er_tg woman calling
for help. He hesitated no longer. On
he hastened through the storm, and
found Lizette sunk to her armpits in
the soft morass. Fortunately, a tuft of
long grass had been within her reach,
by which means she had held her head
abtsva-j^Jje fatal mud. It waSna-e^sy,
matte* to" extricate her from the miry
pit, as the workman had to be very careful that he himself did hot lose his footing. At length, however, she was
drawn forth, and Jerome led her toward
his post.
"Who comes there?" cried a voice
from the gloom.
"Heavens!" gasped Jergtae, Stopping
and trembling from head to foot.
"Who comes there?" repeated the
voice.
Jerome heard the click of a musket-
lock, and he knew that another sentinel
had been stationed at the post he had
left. The Relief hadrcome white he had
been absent 1
"Friends with the countersign I" he
answered to the last call of the new sentinel.
He was ordered to advance, and when
he had given the countersign he found
himself in the presence of the officer of
the guard. In a few hurried words he
told his story, and had the officer been
alone he might, ihave allowed the matter
to rest wh'6re7it'*was; but there were
others present, SJsd^^XBn^M^smd^J^-
murmur, and, silently accompanied the
officer to the camp, -where he was put in
ironsr ; 7 :, -
Off the following morning Jerome Dii-['
bois was brought before a court martial
under charge of having deserted his
post. He confessed that he was guilty,
bowing his head upon his clasped hands,
"you need not- tellethem a falsehood;
but, if the thing is possible, let them
believe that I fell in battle!"
His companion promised that he would
do, #11 he could; and, if the truth fio-tlld
not be kept back, it should he so faithfully told that the name of Jerome Dubois Should not bear dishonor inthe
minds of those who had loved him in
other days.
Morning came, dull and gloomy, with-
driving sleet and snow; and, at an early
hour,, Jerome Dubois was led forthtp
.meet his fate. The place of executibh
had been fixed upon a low, barren spot
toward the sea; and thither, his. division
was "being marched to -witness the fearful punishment. They had gained not
more than half tlie distance when the
sound of some strange coiamotion broke
upon the wintry air, and very shortly
an aide-de-camp came dashing to
the side of the General of the brigade,
with the cry:
"A sortie! A sortie! The enemy
are ,out in force. Let this thing be
stayed. Th£ Marshal directs that you
face about and advance upon the peninsula I"
_ In an instant all was changed in that
division; and the "Brigadier General,who
had temporary command, thundered
forth his orders for his countermarch.
The gloom was dissipated; and with
glad hearts the soldiers turned froni
the thoughts of the execution of a brave
comrade to thoughts of meeting the
enemy.
"What shall we do with the prisoner ?" asked the sergeant who had
charge of the guard.
" Lead him back to the camp," replied ihe Captain.
The direction was very simple, but
the execution thereof was not to be so
| easy, for hardly had the words escaped
I the Captain's lips when a squadron of
1 Prussian cavalry came dashing directly
toward them. The division was qaiekly
-formed into four hollow squares, while
the guard that held charge of the prisoner found themselves obliged to flee.
"In Heaven's name,"<jried Jerome,
" cut my bonds, and let me die like a7
soldier!"
The sergeant quickly cut the cord
that bound his elbows behind i|im,, and
then, dashed t jward the°point where his
own company was stationed. The rattle
oi musketry had commenced, and tlie j
Prussians were vainly endeavoring .jta
break the .squared of French ttoopi.
Jerome Dubois looked about him for
some weapon with which to arm himself,
and presently he saw a Prussian officer
not far off reeling in his saddle as
though he bad been wounded. With a
to dress several slight-j-ounds which he
had received. Next *r\is Colonel was
called to see what sho *>Jd be done with
him. The Colonel allied to the General, .of. brigade, and -the -Gener^Lfpf
brigade applied to th&, „aheralcbi "llivl-
sion, and the General c}] division applied
to Marshal Lefebvre.,
" What shall we do jiih Jerome Dubois?" .' /I -. V iC ■- .(SI*
" God bless him!" >\ ded the. General
veteran, who hadhea» ihe whole story;
"I'll pardon him to-6*f;.r, and to-morrow
I'll promote him !?'. ' r- r-->
And" Jerome Dubois in time, went
himself to seethe Iov*; J ones in France,
and when he went he **7ore the uniform
of a Captain. 7V,
THE HOME ";OCTOE0
onions as a specific -%
quick.bound he reached the spot. wnTjgfl j He did nbt^m^f^^^h
TO CUBE V^.iTS.
Cut a slice from a jm'" potato and rub
the hand eash night. 3i fcst the "water -dry
on the hand. It will nc-od but, few ap;
plications. >.'■■■.<■ r. * . * ;*
S0BO3?*Crti:,'V
A tea made of ripe, dried whortleberries, and drunk in the **race of water, is
a sure and speedy cure'.or scrofula difficulties, however bad.
•fob bub*'j, .
Strong,.fresh, clear Jime-water, mixed
with as much linseed oil as it will put;
shake the**bottleifo6fore applying;' wiap
the burn in cotton-wadding saturated
with the lotion; wet as -often Jas. it "appears dry, without rem-;-/ing the cotton
from the burn for nine J^ys,- when newt
skin will probably have iormed.
FOB OHOIiEBA..iyi_HTTOI*
The whites of two eg^a -well beaten ;
then mix with pure w«ier (we melted
ice), add one t&ble-spf^nfnl of grange
flower water ahdia Ettle' yagyar?"^ds _raeh
as is apt to make the bowels worse);
give a table-spoonful -.very hour.. It
wilJcure the worst cas&t 1 cholera infantum, the egg coating" ihe -bowels and
healing them.
. MEDIOINAIi VrBTtTES OE.O*NIONS. „ ,, r
' _.' mother writes*!'" C Scd a weTeft in-'
variably—and ib was generally when we
had cold meat minced—""" gave the children a draher *wMctem"-r JdUfetl *Si*S!hi4e-
light, and looked forwicd too; this was
a dish of boiled onions. The little
things knew not that t!;*:y fm£&\t&Mng
the best of medicine for expelling what
most' cKHdreii --,fu^>i- ""-ffiomg-wgggf^i
Mine were kept free ' y 'this remedy
alone. Not only boiled onions for cun-
ner^-bijt chives algo the*-' ■weraenfo*ur-
aged.tp eat with their "V." ."-A ^nd^fltter,'-,
and for this purpose """ -1 •*>"• '»-■ "
chives in the_ littfe g
medical man whofalzp"
THE -SSJSAT PI.&6UJS IN LOSBOHc
tho
into the empty saddle.
Dubois was fully resolved that he
would sell his life on that day—sell it in
behalf of France—and sell it as dearly
as possible. But he was not needed
where he was. He knew that the Prussians could not break those hollow
. . .,-.-- squares; so he rode away thinking to
and then permission was granted him to i jom the French cavalry, with whom he
ShA^'^nMapi
as, C "It1 "was* a
3 im&f boiled
la tha chest.
How the Metropolis "Was Scourged By
Plague.
The. authorities agree that the first
heard .of the Great Plague was in Holland in September, 1664, whither it had
Keen imported from Turkey. About the
•beginning of December of the same
year, two Frenchmen, living in Drury
Lane parish, died of the disease. Investigations that were afterward set. on
foot showed that it had been brought
over from Holland in a vessel. Some of
-the goods nad been* stowed away in* this
quarter of the ci'y, and the first two
victims lived in the house where the
goqds were held. The astrologers, at
tlie head of whom was the remarkable
William Lilly, had been predicting pes-
iMlenqe, and fche approach . o|* other
troubles. .A comet had appeared,'pale
in color" and shadowy in outline. This
had been interpreted by fche almanac-
makers as a direful portent, and Lilly
had foretold that when the Plague attacked the city there would be " neither
buriers for the dead,, nor. sound to care
for the sick.-" Though the times were
superstitious, the* gloomy prognostications of these seers did not at* first alarm
the people..
The population of London at that
time was about 200,000. Let this be
b'orne in 'mind, as the events of that
memorable *sun_ier of 1665 are recalled.
The deaths from the disease,, as well as
from other causes, continued to increase.
When the mortality in St. Giles parish
and in Drury Lane had increased from
16 or 17 to 23 and 25, and the weekly
bills of the city from 291 on the 27th
of December to 474 on the 24th of January, then, indeed, the attention of the
city Was arrested. The symptoms Of the
disease were a dull headache restlessness, chills-and vertigo, eyes red and
muddy, tongue coated, and skin hot and
dry. _ufc the immediate and visible
tokens of the presence of the plague
were gangrenous spots or mortifiea
flesh, in small knobs, "as broad," in
the "Words of DeFoe, "as a little silver
penny, and hard as ajpiece of callous or
bone."
After the middle of January the disease began to abate. The weekly mortality bills ran lower, and hopes were
entertained that the "city had passed
through the worst of the visitation. The
weather in May, 1665, was fine and
beautiful, - No rain fell for many days.
Then the. plague gathered new and ter-
ritjle"'Strength. The deaths,* in St.
Giles, ran up from 20 to 53 a week, and
portions of the city that had before escaped began to be invaded. Then eri-
sned the firsfcpaaic. Thousands left the
many unaccountable, things they would
do in the violence of their fright, as others did in the agonies of their distemper,
and this part was very affecting.. Some
went roaring and crying, and wringing
their hands, along the streets. Some
would go praying and lifting their hands
to heaven, calling upon God for mercy."
Many tried to escape from the city, only
"to be driven back by those outside,the
town who: feared the danger of contagion.
There is one well-authenticated ease
where a man sick with the plague escaped from his keepers, and, running to
the liver, jumped in. He swam across,
and-there landing, and being pursued by
citizens .on the other side, jumped again
into the Thames=and swam.back. Wnen
he ' was through with this hydropathic
treatment he Was free from-the plague,'
"the cold of the water having aba-fed the
fever of the blood." '
We are
an article. There ,is only room to put
down the record of deaths id Sei>"fc6inber,
the most fatal month bf-all:
August 22-29 .,..„..;....- ...".v.."/.Si96
August 29—September 5 , 8,251
September 5-12...„ .:.'....:.',;...7,69-r
September 12-19...... ,......-....,.8,297
September 19-26.-. ....6,460
' A physician of the time said in a*book
he published in Latin that, one night
in September, in the week ending -the
18th, there were 4,000 deaths. The,
total number of deaths from August 8
to* October -10 was 59,918, of whom
49,605 died of the plague alone. De
Foe estimates that there were JLQ0,O0Q,
persons who died in that great epidemic.
By December the disease had abated,"
the total deaths that month being less
than 1,000. The next year came the
great fire. ,-.,•-...
■» -iRo-vernmeBt Finances*
- The Treasury Department has published a detailed statement of the receipts and expenditures of fche Government in the last twenty-two years. The
net revenue and net ordinary expenditures compared are
"do, the poor Inflian, whose untutored mmd
Sees God in clouds or hears him in the wind,
His )36ul* proud science nOTe? "f^ug^t to stray
i*ar as the solar walk or milky way'J
Therefore,^ scientificabdriginee.
Is something which we" neVer hop"* to see,
But, seeing, shall immediately'go
And xeport the game ±6 5th Barnttra's show,.
Which will prove a bigger attraction ihst>
Jenny Lind and the woolly hprse driven tandem,
Or the O-frdiff giant trahsported * -"*
On t;wo freight ea-s, with straw intestines "
Sticking out of his mouth and ears.
Yet simpler nature to his hope has given,
Behind the clond-topt hill, a humbler heaven-
Some safer world in depth of woods embraced.
Some happier island in the watery waste,
4s if a safer world- than this could be,
Where Crovermcent is Mnd, and Howards flee
-Erom the shadow of an Indian
s.s if the" very Old Scratch was after them
With a seven-pronged pitchfork; .
And, reaching a telegraph station,
Immediately send word to the Associated "Press
That they have caught up with tbe red demons
And killed seven hundred and fifty Sious,
Eleven hundred and seventy-five 8omancb.es,
Four thousand Piutes, and untold numbers
Of Crows, Cherokees and Black "Feet, among
The slain.being Sitting BvCl, Hole-in-the-Day,
Spotted TaiL Old Sttck-in-the-Mud,
And all oTtEeir'bravea'ana papooses. • "
To be content's his natural desire;
He"asks no* angei'tr wing, no seraph's- fire>
But fire-watpr is his heart's delight,
Whether it comes" in the form of.Bourbon,..
Bobinson county, forty rod. alcohol, aquafortis,
Or hitro-glycerinfewitharstickinit. ■■-..'■
—Oil City Derrick.,
-A hoofc-
■■"I had
It was %
Tear.
1856... ;.
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861..!.
862......
Xet Revenue.
.$ 74,056,699
.. Q8.965.312
. 46 655 365
. 53 483,465
cE6;<r6i.607
41,509 930
61,987.455
1803 112'697,290
tell his own story.
This he "did in f ew Jwords, biit the
court could do nothing but pass sentence
of death; but the members thereof all
signed a petition praying that Jerome
Dubois might be pardoned; and this petition was sent to tne General of the
brigade, and through him to the General
of division, by whom it was indorsed^
and. sent up to- the Marshal, ^
Lefebvre was kind and generous to his
soldiers almost to a fault, but he could
not overlook so grave an error as that
which had been committed by Dubois.
The orders given to the sentinel had
been very simple, and foremosfc of very
necessity was the order forbidding him
to leave hispost until properly relieved.
To a. Certain extent the safety of-the
whole army rested upon the shoulders
of each individual sentinel, and especially upon those who at night were posted
nearest the -lines of the enemy.
"I am "sorry,"' said the gray-haired
old warrior, as he folded up the petition
and handed it back to the officer who
had presented it,
meant no wrong, and yefc a great wrong
was done. He knew what he was doing
—he ran the risk—he was detected—he
has been tried and condemned. He
must Buffex!"■" '
would rush into the deepest danger.
must be upon the Nehrung, he rode his
horse in that direction, and when he
reached it he found that he had nofc been
j mistaken. Upon a slight eminence to-
j ward Hagelsberg the enemy had planted
j a battery of heavy guns, supported by
| two regiments of infantry; and already
'} with shot and shell immense damage
else." ■'*"■ " *"*V
rvr poiscit.1
In the Medicdt Becord a specific is
given for the troublesome eruption produced by the poison-ivy so common in
our •woods. This specific is bromine,,
which has been successfully used in at
least forty cases. The bromine is dissolved in olive-oil, cosmoline or glycerine, in the strength of from ten to
Supposing that the heaviest fighting f twenty drops of bromine to the ounce of
had been done,
Marshal Lefebvre rode up shortly
after this battery had opened, and very
quickly made up his mind that it must
j be taken at all hazards.
j "Take that battery," he said to a
j Colonel of the cavalry, "and the battle
lis ours."
Dubois heard the order and saw the
necessity. Here was danger enough,
surely; and, determined to be the first
at the fatal battery, he kept as near to
the leader as he dared. Half the distance lie had gained, when from the hill
came a storm of iron that plowed into
the ranks of the French. The Colonel
!a /^-.BI!^-r"Sin^ f fel1'llis body literaUv ton** in Pieces by
"""*■ ■""" """*"" ~" a shell that exploded against his bosom.
The point upon the peninsula now
reached by the head of the assaulting
column was not more than
wide; and it was literally
They asked Lefebvre if he would see [ death, as the fire of twelve heavy guns
the condemned. j was turned upon it. The Colonel had
"Ho, no!" the Marshal cried, quickly. ; fallen, and very soon three other officers
oii, and the "mixture rubbed gently on
the affected part three or four times a
day. The bromine is so volatile that
) fche solution should be renewed within
twenty-four hours from its preparation.
The. eruption never extends after the
first thorough application, and it promptly disappears within twenty-four hours,
if the application is persisted in, and
the patient is entirely cured.
HOABSEHESS AND LOSS OB VOIdE.
We append some paragraphs on these
topics which have lately been printed in
our exchanges: (1) For hoarseness or
tickling in the throat, take a small
quantity of dry powdered borax, place
it on fche tongue, and let it slowly dissolve and run down the throat. It is
also good to keep the throat moist at
night and prevent coughing. (2) When
the voice is lost, as is sometimes the
case from the effects of cold, a simple
remedy is furnished by beating up the
white of one egg, adding to it the juice,
of one lemon, and sweetening with white
sugar to the taste. Take a teaspoonful
from time to time. (3) At night before
going to bed have readyapint bowl into
100 yards which, you have squeezed;- t^O;* juice of
a path of half a lemon, add to this one teaspoonful of glycerine and one or two table-
spoonfuls of good whisky or brandy;
pour over boiling water, sweeten well
Should I see him, and listen to one- ; went down, leaving the advance without '• with loaf sugar, and drink very hot. (4")
half his story, I might pardon him, and
that must nofc be done. Let him die,
that thousands may be saved."
The time fixed for thft execution of
Dubois was tbe morning succeeding the
day of his trial. The result of the interview wittuMarshal Lefebvre was made
known to him, and he was not at all disappointed. He blamed no one, and was
only sorry that he had nofc died on the
batfcle-field.
"I have tried to be a good soldier,"
he said to his Captain. " I feel that I
have done no crime that should leave a
stain upon my name."
The Captain took his hand, and assured
him that his name should be held in respect.
Toward evening Pierre Yaillant,. with
his wife and child, were admitted to see
the prisoner. This was a visit which
Jerome would "gladly have dispensed
with, as his feelings were already wrought! we losethis day J"
a commissioned leader. The way was
becoming blocked up with dead men
; and dead horses, and the head of the
i column stopped and wavered.
i Marshal Lefebvre, from his elevated
j place, saw this, and his heart throbbed
j painfully. If that column were routed,
j and the Bussian infantry charged over
I the peninsula, the result might be car
! lamitous.
j But—see! A man in the uniform of
| a French private, mounted upon a pow-
i erfui horse caparisoned in the trappings
of a Prussian staff officer, with his head
bare, and a bright saber Swinging in his
hand, rushes -to the front and urges the
i column forward. His words are fiery
j and his look is dauntless.
I " For France and for Lefebvre 1" the
strange horseman cries, waving >. his
j sword aloft, and pointing toward the
battery. "The Marshal will weep if
up to-a pitch that almost unmanned him;
but he braced himself for the interview,
and would have stood it like a hero had
not little Natalie, in the eagerness of
her love and gratitude, thrown herself
upon his bosom and.offered to die in-his
stead. This tipped" the brimming cup,
and his tears flowed freely.
Pierre and _isette knew not what to
say. They wept and they prayed, and
they would have willingly died for the
noble fello"--"-"- ;who had been thus cpn-
denvSMi^U-.e: ju- .. ■ •:. .■'.■'"•■Tl
Later in the evening came a companion who, if he lived, would at some
time return tO'JerGme'SboyhotM'Shome.
First the condemned thought of his
"widowed^m^ther* and *ie sent her ames-
.sage bt'-'io^ef'arid devotion.' Thfen hi'
thought of a brother and sister. And,
finally, he thought of one—a bright-
eyed maid—whose vine-clad cot stood
upon the banks of the Seine—one whom
he had loved wifch a lote such as only
great hearts ean feel,
"Oh, my deas Mmdl" la© cskdj,
The brave troopers,-thus led -by one*
who feared not to dash forward where:
the shot fell thickest, gave an answering shout, and pressed on, caring little
for thax'ain of death so long as they had
a living leader to follow. Hoping that
he might take the battery, and yet
courting death, Jerome Dubois spurred
on; and finally the troop came upon the
battery with irresistible force.
It was not in the power of the cannoneers to withstand the shock, and, the-
"Bussian infantry that came to their sup- j
port were swept away like chaff. The
battery ywas quickly captured, and when,
the guns, had been turned upon those
who had shortly before been their masters, "the fortune of the day was decided.
The Bussians and the Prussians—horse,
foot, and dragoons—such as were not
taken prisoners, made, the best of their
way back into Dantzic, having lost much
more than they had gained.
Jerome Dubois returned to fche guard
house, and gave himself up to the officer
ia charge. * _"irsfc a lurgson was dalied
Spikenard root, sliced and bruised, and
then steeped in a teapot containing equal
parts ©f water and spirits, and the
vapor inhaled, when sufficiently cooled,
will relieve tbe soreness and hoarseness
of the throat or lungs when arising from
cough or cold. (5) Horseradish will
afford instantaneous relief in most obstinate cases of "hoarsenessi ■'•Tlie root,
of course, possesses tie most virtue,
though the leaves are good till they dry,
when they lose their strength. The
ioot is best when^it is. green. The person-who Will use It freely just before beginning to speak will not be troubled
with hoarseness. (6) Beat well the
whites of two eggs, add two table-spoonfuls white sugar, grate in half a nutmeg, add a pint of lukewarm water, stir
well and drink often. Eepeafc the preparation, if necessary. (7) Whoever
will try honey and aium—a, small portion of each—will never suffer from
hoarseness.
, ,%he J-'ruit Crop.
Notwithstanding the late frost last
spring, which so seriously damaged tiees
and fruit-buds, it now appears that there
is^a fair, not to say good, crop of apples.
In Western New York tkereis mor&-than*
a usual crop of good fruit, while equally
favorable reports come from New England. In Iowa and Southern Illinois
the crop in mosfc sections is light, yet
enough for home use. Prices there are
now ranging from 25 to 50 cents a bushel
Missouri is sending a good many North
already. The-prospecfc is that we shall
have plenty of apples afc not exorbitant
prices,— Chicago Times.
A physician says dyspepsia wa^ .not
known in this country 100 years ago.
People then walked more, rode on horse-
bacll, and keptMtchen gardens.
Teh mosti.3j3Dfcoriqus girl of the joeriQf J
ii now knowttfis*? Mm Besal®. "* 5' ^
that men who _ied to find a horse could
obtain none.
By this time the city officials nad become thoroughly alarmed. Ordinances
were passed forbidding games, plays,
bear-baitings, singing of ballads and
tippling houses. In May, too, on a certain night, thousands of bonfires were
started all through the city, on aprecon-
cerfeed signal. A well-known enthusiast,
Solomon Eagle, denounced the effort in
the name of the Lord, and declared that,
though the rains had been withheld for
weeks, they would fall to the confusion
of the wicked city that was trying to
escape the judgment of Jehovah. Sure
enough, Copious showers did fall, and
the pestilence gained new strength
thereafter. Then ifc was resolved that
infected houses should be closed for a
month, with all those living in them.
This order was odious to many, and to
avoid ifc they kept from the officers the
knowledge that their houses were affected. But watchmen went about, and
those who evaded the law were subjected
j to a heavy fine. Over the doors of infected houses were written in red ink
fche words, "TheLord have mercy upon
us," and a watchman was stationed at the
door to prevent all ingress and egress,
except the doctor and nurBe. Once a
mob, enraged at the closing of the
houses, ran about the streets knocking
open the doors and letting out the sufferers to spread the pestilence anew.
The death-rate grew. In the week
ending July 18 the deaths numbered
1,761. The sweating treatment was tho
one generally resorted to, but only four
or fire out of a hundred attacks were
saved. August came, and the mortality
was greater than ever. It grew to be
impossible to bury all the dead. A pit
was dug forty feet long, fifteen or sixteen broad, and twenty feet deep. Into
this the bodies were tumbled, rich and
poor together, and often in such haste
that not even a handful of earth was
thrown upon the remains. The little
child and the old man lay in the charnel-
house side by side. Instances were
known where friends, wild with grief at
fche loss of loved ones, threw themselves
into the pit, and were buried by the
side of those who had already passed
away. Over 1,100 bodies were covered
up in the first pit, and then a second—a
larger one—was dug. Mad persons
went about the streets infecting" those
whom they met. A young man kissed
a girl whom he siw, and then, tearing
open his clofehes, showed the fatal spot.
The air became more and more tainted. Even provisions were infected. * Instead of taking meat from the hands of
the butcher, people would take it from
the hooks. Men no longer touched the
dead. When persons were to be buried
the bodies were grappled with hooks at
tlie end of long poles and tumbled into
the general pit or a shallow grave. All
business was stopped. The dust settled
thick on the windows of fche great mercantile houses. No living thing was to
be seen on many streets save those who
were collecting the dead in common
cirts. "Bring forth your dead," was
the cry that filled the air.as the undertaker, Chowles, and hi$ assistants engaged in their work. Thieves, even, did
not dare to go into the open houses for
fear of the infection. Even the dogs
and cats, "ten thousand, of the former
and.five times as many of the latter,"
were killed in, pursuance of a city decree. The river's -waters became 'polluted, and dead bodies floated onitssur-.
face. For about nine *weeks together
the deaths .numbered nearly a 'thousand
a day^ „„ *D8e "foe, in hia graphic, picture,
says: ".As .ihe7 desolation 'was greater
duriog those tesrible times,, so fche
amageaeafc ol the people iacseased,'aad
1861
1865
15-66.....
1867.'....
1868.....
18B9
1870.....
1871.'....
1872 -
1873:.,..
1874".
1875
-1876...*.
*-. - • *»* *•*-
264 626'771
833,714 605
sssjim.^o
490,634,010
405 638,083
370 943.717
411,255,477
383,"323,944
374;10'6 867
333,7iJ8,2:)4
289478,755
288,000 052
287 482 039
F '^ *~<-.{><*ScvJ»^
Mt Ordinary
Expenditures.
$■ 69,*571,025
67,795,797
74,185,270'
69,070,096
63,130.598
' * .66546,644
': "474.761818
714,710,725
. 865,322.611
l,297,5"55,*i24
5'20,809,41G
,. 357,542 675
'' 377.310,284
3.32,865 277
309 65366*0
292,177,188
277.517 962
". 290,345 245
287,133,873
" '274,623,392
2I>8,459 797
Jonegr
if Me
- -PITH A1U) "POUT,. -.. '- .-
Tbe wheel of time must get tired." -
The best 'bus * conductors—Ladies'
lips.
' Tis not. usually a good omen to ow©
men. ...... ...
The son that shines, for all-
black. ■ • '■■■
* A -iiADX said of; her nose:
nothing s to- do In shaping ifc.
birthday present." * ..?.. ...
A gboceb advertise^ in the following'
outrunning the due limits of j ferae , manner: " Hams and. cigars—
'smoked, and unsMOked." " ''*"*..
BeVobe Plevna 7,O0Orinen, just the
number brought "from* India to Malfcaj
were destroyed-ia thirty-three miuutps ;
The family - of Mr. and Mrs. Jones
consists of one boy and a .girl,
thinks his life _ would be sweeter
had more lasses. : * " i
A cobbesSondent wants 'td know
whether,5 considering the "great utility of
the* ocean, poets are not wrong _tcal|-|
ing it .a " waste of water." -.. ■ -1 ,. * -.. ,..f
; -A "fabmeb whose*cows .*were. sick^was
advised to_dose them.plen'qifu'il-jf' with
wliisky. j_e did so,_ahd was rewarded
with a choice variety of corned 'beef."" * *
A peeson, asking "a" friend if he had
purchased any» flowera.. lately, was
counter-questioned j "If he meant fchat
as an hiqniry. with reference to boughi-"'
any.""'■ \ /; '" ' '■"'*- -
Epitabh' onr a tombstone in PJenasyli**
vania: .■.■-•■*•:;'■'••■•'- --.■-.- .*■-' j?
. • Here Hes the body ot Andrew.Lear;
His inouth did stretch from B&r to ear"; *-
- - Header, tread lightly o^r Jj-Jpjhead, « . - . „
For if lie gapes, by gosh you're dead T
A gibii, hearing the lady* of the 'hdusai
at' breakfast request ^ her husband. to *
bring "Dombey and.,8011",.wifch him,
when he earner home t° dinner, laid two,
extra plates on th'e.Sinnei-iable for the
supposed guests'" ' " " - ■* i
Ftiiiii many. a; Jim of poorest; razor .
e'ea fche-djsep, unfathomed -caves of barbers bear; full m-iny a flour is "burned^
when baked unseen,_ and wastes "its'•'-
wheatness, owing to the carelessness of
the cook, who leaves ifc in the oven white
she stands q'ut At- the-,, fenee, teUiiig
Hubb's cook how Mr. T abb's cook ia,
going fco have her bonnet teitumed,— "
New York Graphic.
ss r-**r> fn t^ An-io""*"-*
The largest source of revenue f divine-
whole period has been customs, but for
the years 1864, 1865, 1866, 1867 and
1868 the internal-revenue duties'yielded
fae most. * The income from* these two
sources, for the years 1856 to 1878, has
been:
Internal '
Year. Customs. Revenue.
1856 S 64,022,863
1857 -63,875.905
1858 41,789,620
1859... , 49,565 824
1860 53,187,511 ;
1861 39,582,<25
1862 49,056397
1863 69,059643 $37 640,787
1864 1(2316152 109,741,135
186*i 81.928.260 209,464,2-5
1866." 179046651 309,226 813
1867 176,4 7810 266,027,537
1868 161,461.599 191,087589
1869 181,018,426 158 3")6 460
1870 194,538374 184,899756
1871... .-. 206270408 143.-98353
1872 2163T0286 130,641,177
1873 188089522 113728314
1874, 163 103.833 102,409,784
1875 157167 722 110,007.4831
1876 148,071984 116 700,732
1877 130956,163 118630407
1878. 130,170,680 , 110 581,628
The net ordinary expenditures are arranged under seven heads, and of these
the payment of interest on the public
.-resent,
debt is the largest. For the year 1878, j single combats^like those of manoin his
mannei-s __ aiii-a:^ '..i_. : _. j ,■ . . . ,
vein afc the recent m.ee"sin^-cz il___
Association. The Echo, in Its
synopsis of Ms speech, represents hita. ,
as the owner and proprietor of thirfcy "
species, which are kept in confinement.
Some of these specimens he has "been ■-
watching for four years, and,: as -they
were bred in the previous year,- they are
now five years old. They' resemble ,hu- .
man beings in many social aspeets.*'
There were, for example, 'slave-making
ants, which, in one case at least, were
entirely dependent on their slaves, and,
would perish even in.the midst of plenty.
if left to themselves. He had kept some
of these ants, however, alive for months
by giving them a slave for aa houxa day
fco clean and feed them. He found in
fche different, species various conditions
of 'life curiously answering to the earlier
stages of human progress.* Some species lived principally on the produce" of
the chase, and they probably retained
the habits once common to all. ants.
They resemble the. lower race of men,;
who subsist mainly by hunting. They
hunted singly, and tlieir battles were
the interest on the public debt cost
$20,000,000 more than the Indians, pensions, Navy Department and War Department all together.
Simple Lessons in Science.
Force is that which sets a body in
motion, as, for instance, the police
force, which makes a body move on.
There would be no heaviness in the
world if it were not for gravity. Corollary : Never forget to h ave your Fun.
A liquid violently resists all attempts
to force it into close confinement,
spreading itself out so as to make its
surface level, and many liquids communicate these little peculiarities of
theirs to those who imbibe them.
When anything is weighed in water
it suffers a loss of weight. This is especially true in the case of salfe.
A pound avoirdupois is exactly equal
to 7,000 grains. Take a pound of sand
and count. 7
When bodies become heated, movement a little backwards and forwards
takes place, as you must have seen for
yourself in the case of a street fight.
Heat causes a copper rod to be extended, and ifc has the same effect on a
policeman's staff.
It is erroneous to suppose that the
barometer is used as a yard measure in
ascertaining the height of a mountain,
or that the Branch Press has anything
to do wifch the car of Juggernaut.
Most physicians teach that noise is
the result of a single blow given to the
ear; music, of a series of blows. In our
experience, however, we have observed
that noise was the result in both cases;
in the latter more unmusical, even, than
in the former. Experimentum fiat in
corpore vili. Box a small boy's ears,
first singly, and afterward repeatedly,
and you will sboii see, or rather hear.
Attraction and affinity are synonymous
in chemistry, but in life we often find
that the greater the affinity the less the
attraction.
Some precious stones are called cats'
eyes; diamondSj surely, might be called'
cats' claws, since they scratch everybody, •
Electricians neatly divide all bodies
into conductors and non-conductors,
but in the world there are bodies who,
although they never mounted the ••monkey-board of an omnibus, nevertheless
are cads.—-London Fun.
Eii^vEH thousand women are telegraph operators in Great Britain} and it
is said that they,keep the secrets in*,
trusted to them.
early history, Another epecies might
be compared to the pastoral stage of
human progress, to the race that live on
fche produce of their flocks,-and herds.
Their communities were more numerous, r
they acted more in concert, their battles
were no more single combats, but they
knew how to act in combination. Sir
John's opinion was that they 7wauld
gradually exterminate the hunting spe--
cies,-ju8tas savages disappeared, .before ..
more advanced races. . . * " ""7
The CMWi-en ol ferael.
According to fche latesfc statistics that -
have been gathered there are, in round
numbers, 8,0.00,000 of Jews in the '
world, who are thus divided; United
States, 73,265; Great Britain and Ireland, 42,000; Italy, 25,000; France,
000; Bussia in'Europe, 2,612,179; Tur--
key, 150,000; Ebumania, 247,424; Morocco, 340,000; Denmark, Belgium,
Sweden, Switzerland, Canada have comparatively few Jews—they number there'
from 1,500 to 7,000—while Asia has
2,138,000. Most persons will be surprised at the statement that, there are
less than 73; 000 Jews in the country,
which is generally supposed to contain a
great many more! Sp'm^ reports make
the number as high as 150,00(1); but fchis
is probably an. exaggeration. The statistics given here are said to be as trust-,
worthy as can be had at present, though
no published figures can be" wholly depended on, as the Jews are scattered all
over the globe, and in many places'-
where such a thing as a census has never
been taken. The Jewish population of
the w-irld is loosely reckoned at from
3,500,000 to 15,000,000—a very broad
margin surely—but there is reason to
believe that 8,000,000 is pretty near the
truth. The two countries - where Jews
are scarcest are Spain and'Scotland.
Successful fishing cost .John Scull,
editor ofthe Somerset (Pa:) Herald, his
life. After securing a string of some
thirfcy pounds of fish, he tied them to
his wrist and waded in the river with
them. Falling into a deep hole, the ,
weight of the fish drew him under water,
and, although an expert swimmer, he
was drowned.
-,-■■: ■■■ , * 'r,——; :—.hi;, i
An official statement shows that the
Government receipts in the fiscal year
1878' exceeded the expenditures about
$20,800,000, the excess Joe 1877 over
1876 being 130,840,000. D.uring 1878
fche receipts fell off $11,000,000 and tlip .
espeadifc-ores we-se :*red-*i6#ct H1}8Q0*>000' '
Object Description
| Title | 1878-09-27; Clare County Press |
| Date | 1878-09-27 |
| Publisher | Goodenough & Wilson |
| Description | Friday, September 27, 1878 issue of a Clare, Michigan newspaper. Published weekly. Began publication date unknown. In 1886, the title was changed to The Clare Press |
| Subject/Keywords | Clare (Mich.) - Newspapers; Clare County (Mich.) - Newspapers; |
| Copyright Permission | This material is in the public domain. |
| Type | Newspaper |
| Format | JPG/JPEG |
| Language | English |
Description
| Title | 1878-09-27; Clare County Press |
| Date | 1878-09-27 |
| Publisher | Goodenough & Wilson |
| Description | Friday, September 27, 1878 issue of a Clare, Michigan newspaper. Published weekly. Began publication date unknown. In 1886, the title was changed to The Clare Press |
| Subject/Keywords | Clare (Mich.) - Newspapers; Clare County (Mich.) - Newspapers; |
| Copyright Permission | This material is in the public domain. |
| Type | Newspaper |
| Format | JPG/JPEG |
| Language | English |
| Transcript |
-sfH^P*—*-- "^*wwc3JEaer»^ia^amB!B^fiiS4- ~tw^k -,-—i-S r £7"^ £/ li*l-,t-'l°-H"yrVlH1»ta«^» "V*" -*»_^-- TC?"^ /, Srisiais e"_ii.i_. Poor frial* PMli * lost Ms-wife, She charm, 'an**"*.comfort of his life; He iaonrnad her—not like modern men— Kos-"!sdies-vere-wor_haTinjrtjaieD. "*;."! "'■ SBe world was alterM in hifi view, '" - ** ' - All things put on a.yeHo.w..h**'J 5 Even ladies^ once his chief delight, Wejs npw offensive to his-sight; In short, he pined and looked so ill, _ She doctor hoped to maSe a hill. At last, he made a vo-sr to fly, - And hid himself from every eye; _ ~ - Soak up his lodgings in a t^ood, 'So tarn a hermit and grow good. He had a son. now yon mnst know, . Ah ont a twelvemonth old or so; Him Bhflip tools; up in Ms arms, To snatch him from all female charms, " Intending he should never know ffihere were such things as girls below, ' But lead an honest hermit's, life; - lest he, likewise, might lose his wife. ^ Ihe place he chose for his retreat Was once a lions country seat; - Par in a wild, romantic wood, The hermit's little cottage stood, Hid, by the trees, from humag. view— The son himself could scarce get through. A littlo garden, tilled with care,, Supplied them with their daily fare; 'B'resh water-cresses from the spring— Turnips or greens, or some such thing— Hermits don't care much what they eat, And appetite can make it sweet 1 'Twas here our little hermit grew— His father taught him all he knew, Adapting, like a cheerful sage, His lessons to the pupil s age. At five" years old, he showed him flowers, Taught him their -various names and-powers; Taught hifit t^-hlow upon areed, '"■-•. To say his prayers and get the creed. *- At ten, he lectured him on herbs (Better than learning nouns and verbs), The names and qualities of trees, "Effannsrs aid customs of the bees; Then talked of oysters full of pearls, But not one word about the girls. At fifteen years, he turned his eyes To flew the wondeis of the skies j - ' ' ■ Called ali the stars by their right Dames, As you -weald call on John or James ; And showed him all the, Bigns above, But not a whisper about love. And now Sis sixteenth year was nigh, And yet he had aoi learned to sigh j Had sleep and appetite to spare; He couid not tell the name of care; And all because he did not know . • There were such things as girls below, But now a tempest raged around— The hermit's Jittieuest^aB drowned— Good-by, then, too, poor Philip's crop; It did noftleava a. turnip fop. Poor Philip grieved, and his son, too— They prayefi—they knew not what to do; If they were hermits, they must live, And wolves have not much alms to give. Now, in Ms native town, he knew * . , . He had disciples—rich ones, too— Who woi*ld not let him beg in vain, But set the hermit up again. But what to do with his young son— "Eray tell me what you would have done 2 Take him to town he was afraid, 3**"or what if he should see a maid! ,.. v. In love, as sure as he had eyes, * **-**'-- Then any quartity of sighs! leave him at horns? Tbe wolves, the bears- Poor Philip had a father's fears! In short, he knew not what to do, But thought, at last, "he'd -take him,too ; And so, withijuly pious care, --'•"* He counts his beads ta anxious, prayer--. Intended aa- a sort o" charm, ' To keep his darling lad from harm}. * That is, from pretty ladies'-wiles, "Especially their eye3 and smi'es— Then brushed h*s coat of silver gray, And no^r you see them on their way. It was a ttfWn, they all agree, Where there was everything to see, As paintings, staiaes. and so on— " 5 , * • All that men love to look upon. Gur little lad, yoa may suppose, Had never seen so many shows; He stands, wic'a open mouth aad eyes,- like one just fallen from the skies; Pointing at everything he sees— "What's this2, Wha;'s that? Oh, here, what's these?" At last he epies •*. charming th'ig That men call angel when they sing;— Young lady, when they Bpeakin prose; Sweet thing! as everybody knows. »;: '' ** - ~r -~fl tin -xr "rT^*****"*' -i-> < .*••■ ■®i[-_.* -_ 00B $$3$$fi&$. J Oi^f^fffll _• Inscription: $1.50 per Annum. CLAKE, MICHIGAN, FMJ AY, SEPTEMBER 27rl87S. Single' Copies: Five Gents, Transported, ravished at the sight, He feels a strange but sweet delight. '■ What's this ? .What's this ? Oh, heavens!" he " That looks so sweetly -sith its eyes— Oh. shall I catch ii? Is it tame?; What is it, father ? What's :"ts name?" "Poor Philip fcne^-F not what to- say^ ^ j But tried to tuM'his e j es away ; He crossed himself * aud made a vow, *■* ,Tis as I feared, all's over now; Then, prithee, have thy wits let loose ? And will it sing, toe, will it sing? Oh, come, come quickly, let us run; That's a good father" catch me one! We'll take it with us to our cell— Indeed I indeed, III treat it well!" cries, THE OCJE.—N*. likeness of Heaven! agent of power! Man is thy victim, and shipwrecks thy dower ; Spices and jewels, from valley and sea, Armies and.banners are buried in thee! - What are the riches of Mexico's mines To the wealth that far down in thy deep water shines? Proud navies that cover the conquering west, Thou fling'st them to death with one heave of thy breast. "From the high hills that view tf*y wreck-making shore, - ' ,. "/> When the bride of the mariner shrieks at thy roar; *When,like lambs in the tempest, or mews in the blast; O'er thy ridge-broken billows the canvas is cast; How humbling to one with a heart and a soul, To louk on thy greatness, and list to its roll; To think how that heart in cold ashes shall be, Whi e the voice of eternity rises /rom thee.' Yes 2 where are the cities of Thebes and of Tyre ? Swept from ihe nations, like sparks from the fire; The glory of Athens, the splendor of Borne ? Dissolved, and forever, like dew in the foam. But thou art almighty, eternal, sublime— Unweakened, nnwa&tea—twin brother of time; ■Fleets, tempests, nor nations, thy glory can bow ; As the stars firsu beheld thee still chainless art thou! THE COSBEMEO SEJSTDlElii A cold, stormy night in the month of March, 1807, Marshal Lefebvre, with 27,000 "French troops, had invested Dantzic. The city was garrisoned by 17,000 Bussian and Prussian soldiers, and these, together with 20,000 or 30,000 well-armed citizens, presented nearly double the force which could be brought to the assault. So there was need" of the utmost vigilance on the part of the sentinels, for a desperate sortie from the garrison, made unawares, might prove calamitous. At midnight Jerome Dubois was placed upon one of the most important posts in the advance line of pickets, it it being upon a. narrow strip of land raised above the marshy flat, called the peninsula of Nehrung. For more than an hour he paced Ms lonesome beat without heariDg more than the moaning of the wind and the driving of the rain. At length, however, another sound broke upon his ear. He stopped and listened, and presently he called: "Who's there?" The only answer was a moaning sound. He called again, and this time he heard something like the cry of a child, and pretty soon an object came toward him out of the darkness. With a quick, emphatic movement he brought his musket to the charge, and ordered the intruder to halt. "Mercy!" exclaimed a childish voice; "don't shoot me! I am Natalie. Don't you know me ?" "Heavens!" cried Jerome, elevating the muzzle- of his piece.- "Is it you, dear child 2." "Yes; and you are good, Jerome. Oh, you will come and help mamma! Oome, she is dying.!" If was certainly Natalie, a little girl only 8 years old, daugiiter of Lisette Yaillant. Lisette was the wife of Pierre Taillant, a sergeant in Jerome's own regiment, and was with the army in capacity of nurse. " Why, how is this, my child ?" said Jerome, taking the little one by the arm*. " What is it about your mother ?" "Oh, good Jerome, you can hear her now. Hark!" ' ' The sentinel bent his ear, but could hew only the wind and the sain. "lamma is in the dreadful mud" said the child, "and ia dying. She is raotfair away. Ob, lean hear her crying.1" By degrees Jerome gathered from Hatalie that her father had taken her out with him in the morning, and that ia the evening when the storm cams on hex mother came after her. The sergeant hacl offeredto mad a man back to the camp wifch his wife; but she pre- j* fexrerd..to; "ffeturn alone, *feeiifig sure that she should meet with no trouble. The way, however, had become dark and uncertain, and she had lost the'path, and wandered off to the edge of the morass, where she .had-sunk into the slpi't mud. "Oh, good' Jerome""cried the little one" seizing the man's hand, "can't you hear her ? She will die if you do not come and help her'!" At that moment the sentinel fancied he heard the wail of the unfortunate woman. What should he do? Lisette, the good,', the beautiful^ the tenderhearted Lisette, was in mortal danger, and it was in his power to save her. It was not in his heart to withstand the pleadings of the child. He could go and rescue the nurse, and return to his post without detection. At all events, he could not, refuse the childish pleader. "Give*Me yotir hand, Natalie. I'll go with you." With a cry of joy the child sprung to the soldier's side, and, when she had secured his hand, she hurried him along toward the place where she had left her mother. & It seemed a long distance, to Jerome, ian3!once he stopped as though he would turn back. He did not fear death, but he feared dishonor. " Hark!" uttered the child. The soldier listened and plainly heard the voice of the sti_er_tg woman calling for help. He hesitated no longer. On he hastened through the storm, and found Lizette sunk to her armpits in the soft morass. Fortunately, a tuft of long grass had been within her reach, by which means she had held her head abtsva-j^Jje fatal mud. It waSna-e^sy, matte* to" extricate her from the miry pit, as the workman had to be very careful that he himself did hot lose his footing. At length, however, she was drawn forth, and Jerome led her toward his post. "Who comes there?" cried a voice from the gloom. "Heavens!" gasped Jergtae, Stopping and trembling from head to foot. "Who comes there?" repeated the voice. Jerome heard the click of a musket- lock, and he knew that another sentinel had been stationed at the post he had left. The Relief hadrcome white he had been absent 1 "Friends with the countersign I" he answered to the last call of the new sentinel. He was ordered to advance, and when he had given the countersign he found himself in the presence of the officer of the guard. In a few hurried words he told his story, and had the officer been alone he might, ihave allowed the matter to rest wh'6re7it'*was; but there were others present, SJsd^^XBn^M^smd^J^- murmur, and, silently accompanied the officer to the camp, -where he was put in ironsr ; 7 :, - Off the following morning Jerome Dii-[' bois was brought before a court martial under charge of having deserted his post. He confessed that he was guilty, bowing his head upon his clasped hands, "you need not- tellethem a falsehood; but, if the thing is possible, let them believe that I fell in battle!" His companion promised that he would do, #11 he could; and, if the truth fio-tlld not be kept back, it should he so faithfully told that the name of Jerome Dubois Should not bear dishonor inthe minds of those who had loved him in other days. Morning came, dull and gloomy, with- driving sleet and snow; and, at an early hour,, Jerome Dubois was led forthtp .meet his fate. The place of executibh had been fixed upon a low, barren spot toward the sea; and thither, his. division was "being marched to -witness the fearful punishment. They had gained not more than half tlie distance when the sound of some strange coiamotion broke upon the wintry air, and very shortly an aide-de-camp came dashing to the side of the General of the brigade, with the cry: "A sortie! A sortie! The enemy are ,out in force. Let this thing be stayed. Th£ Marshal directs that you face about and advance upon the peninsula I" _ In an instant all was changed in that division; and the "Brigadier General,who had temporary command, thundered forth his orders for his countermarch. The gloom was dissipated; and with glad hearts the soldiers turned froni the thoughts of the execution of a brave comrade to thoughts of meeting the enemy. "What shall we do with the prisoner ?" asked the sergeant who had charge of the guard. " Lead him back to the camp" replied ihe Captain. The direction was very simple, but the execution thereof was not to be so easy, for hardly had the words escaped I the Captain's lips when a squadron of 1 Prussian cavalry came dashing directly toward them. The division was qaiekly -formed into four hollow squares, while the guard that held charge of the prisoner found themselves obliged to flee. "In Heaven's name" |
