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Sfye (fham 3Jucoiu.
H. A. LONDON, Jr.,
EDITOR ANI PROPRIETOR.
Ay Ay Ay
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PITTSBOEO', CHATHAM CO., N. C, SEPTEMBER 19, 1878.
made ,arger vments liberal contracts will be
Cheapest Goods & Best Variety
CAN BE FOUND AT
New Gools Eeceired eyen Veei.
Tou can always find what you wish at Lon
don's. He keeps everything.
Dry Goods, Clothing, Carpeting, Hardware,
Tin Ware, Drugs, Crockery, Confectionery
8hoes, Boot, Caps, Hats, Carriage
Materials. Sewing Machines,Oils,
Putty, Glass, Faints, Nails,
Iron Plows and Plow
Sole, Upper and Harness Leathers,
Shawls, Blankets, Um
brellas, Corsets, Belts, La
dies Neck-Ties and Ruffs, Ham
burg Edgings, Laces, Furniture, &c.
Best Shirts in (he Country Tor $1.
Best 5-cent Cigar, Chewing and
Smoking Tobacco, Snuff,
Salt and Molasses.
My stock is always complete in every line,
and goods always sold at the lowest prices.
Special inducements to Cash Buyers.
My motto, "A nimble Sixpence is better
than a slow Shilling."
I3FA11 kinds of produce taken.
W. L. LONDON,
Pittsboro', N. Carolina.
H. A. LONDON, Jr.,
Attorney at Law,
PITTSBORO, X. .
jJST'Special Attention Paid to
DR. A. J. YEAGER,
PERMANENTLY LOCATED AT
PITTSBOEO', N. C.
All Work Warranted. Satisfaction Guaranteed.
It. H. COWAN,
Staple it Fancy Dry Goods, Cloth
ing, Hats Boots, is hoes, No
CROCKERY and GROCERIES.
PITTSBORO. N. C.
RALEIGH, N. CAR.
F. H. CAMERON, President.
W. E. ANDERSON, Vice Pres.
W. H. HICKS, Sec'y.
The only Home Life Insurance Co. in
Ail its fund loaned out AT. HOME, and
among our own people. We do not send
North Carolina money abroad to build up other
States. It is one of the most successful com
panies of its age in the United States. Its as
sets are amply sufficient. All losses paid
promptly. Eight thousand dollars paid in the
last two years to families in Chatham. It will
cost a man aged thirty years ouly fire cents a
day to insure for one thousand dollars.
Apply for further information to
H. A.:L0ND0N,Jr., Gen. Agt.
PITT8BORO', N. C.
Dr. A. D. ITIOORE,
PITTSBOEO', IT. C,
Offer, bit profesnional services to the citizen, of
Chatbmn. With an experience of thirty years he
hop,, to give entire satisfaction.
Attorney at Law5
PITTSBOBO', N. 0.,
Practices in the Courts of Chatham, Harnett
Moore aud Orange, and in the Supreme and Federa
O. 8. POE,
Dry Goods, Groceries & General Kercfcanilse.
All kinds of Plows and Castings, Buggy
Kitoriali, Furniture, etc.
PITTNBORO', N. CAB.
THE YEOMAN'S STORY.
PLORKHCB X. BERGEB.
Is it yon, old neighbor and friend? I'm here in th
I wasn't noticing much how sombre the room had
I know by the grasp of yonr hand the things that
you want to say,
But I'd rather yon shouldn't say them at least till
Tes, Will, he has gone at last. My do rling is real
All I had left in the world, and I haven't a tear to
Give me your armthere's the moon, there full,
over the apple-trees.
Let us walk and talk for a little maybe it'll give
Will, you remember his mother? You must often
have heard it said
There was never a prettier woman, nor one that
held higher her head;
Yet only a village beauty, with cheeks like the
month of May,
And a mother to slave for her dress, and a father to
give her her way ...
Philip was comely and tall, but I was richer than
Sometimes she liked Philip the best, and sometimes
she teemed to like me
She played fast and loose with us both, as only
these young things can
Who fancy no sport so well as to toy with the heart
of a man.
Well, Will, without bonnet or shawl she came to
my house one night.
Said she had broken with Philip, and if I would
have her I might.
Shall I ever forget that moment, when, shaking in
I seemed to hear music about me more solemn and
sweet than ahymu?
We were married within the month, and Philip
had gone away
A happier man than I never looked on the light of
I whistled from morning to night, and was blithe
as a bird on the wing;
Ah, lad! that a strong man's soul should hang on
so weak a thing!
I don't remember exactly when first I noticed the
But I know that soon something struck me as not
like herself, and strange;
Her dimples were not so deep, nor so round her lit
And her eyes grew brighter and brighter as her
cheeks seemed hollowing in.
She watched my every turn with her large blue
As though she had something to say she was full
of trouble and sighs;
I thought she was sick for a sight of the old folks
down at the mill,
But she wouldn't go near her mother, and that
made me uneasy. Will.
She fretted a deal at last, and the child when 'twas
born wasn't strong;
But like the fool that I was, I didn't think what
Till I came unawares upon her in the beerhcopse
yonder . . . she lay
la a heap . . . with a letter . . . from Philip . . .
and sobbing her heart away
It was well she died as she did; she was spared
from a heavier f ite,
For when he came home from sea, he came just a
week too late;
The osiers were binding her bed, and the May rose
had burst into bloom,
When I heard he was back in the village. 'Twas
close on the evening gloom,
I had opened the churchyard gate, with an armful
of lilac flowers
To deck out her grave a little (not green yet in
spite of the showers).
When I paused without dropping the latch, for
Philip was standing there
With his arms hanging down at his sides, and his
lips on the work as in prayer.
I was sorry for him, right sorry he was so stricken
His face when he lifted it up was the face of an
The look that he gave when he saw me will never
pass out of my sight.
But I couldn't give him my hand, Will, I couldn't,
try as I might!
So you see I was left wi h the baby. Conld you
thick such a little boy
Could grow all the world to me, my all of sorrow
No hands touched him but mine don't smile, lad
I washed him, and fed,
And watched till he fell asleep every night by his
I carried him in my arms, and played with his
His eyes, the picture of hers, were sometimes hard
But I grew a better man, Will, than ever before I
With her baby boy to live for, and her grave to
keep neat and green.
'Tis wonderful, Will, these children, how soon
they come to know!
It didn't seem any time before he could laugh and
And stretchout his little arms when he saw me
The best child ever born, and never the one to cry!
Sometimes I used to lift the hem of his babyclothes
And nnrse his tiny feet, pinkish-white, like a wild
A id woude- throngh what rough paths they would
t'ead in the years to come
I didn't think thei they'd betaking the safest and
surest home. ...
Three years old when he died! and just beginning to
To prattle to Rover and me, and toddle about in
I makes you sometimes donbt if things are so
right after all,
Whe i the weeds are left to flourish, and the blos
soms are made to fall.
You've some of your own at home you'd like to
see him maybe
It can only do yon good, Will, to think upon him
You'll feel the goodness of God as you never felt it
When the young ones hear yonr footsteps, and
rush to the cottage-door!
Do you hear that moaning noise It's Rover down
in the yard;
I'd a mind to shoot him the morn, aud yet 'twould
be rather hard;
The boy was fond o' the dog, and the poor brute
seems to know
Being old, and scarce able to crawl, he misses my
That's his hat on the peg, and yonder his poor little
It grieves me above a bit that I've ever been vexed
at the noise;
Novo I'd give worlds tohearit, even though it were
ten times more
O will! how my heart sinks down as we come near
the bedroom door! . . .
There he lies in his cot, so quiet and happy and
He looks more like his mother than ever I saw him,
Will. . . .
What a selfish fool am I, to regret that he's gone
For hasu't his face a smile, lad? and that's better
sure than a tear!
Death is sweeter than life, and slumber is sweeter
'Twas such a hard fight, old man, and we have so
little to gala!
Who knows what he might have come to had he
lived to be old as we?
If life is a good thing, Will, -tis a better thing not
Those snowdrops he picked himself that he holds
in his tiay hands.
Now he gathers the flowers of Paradise, as clothed
in white winffs he stands
In thegaideu of God, looking upwards to the throne
of eternal grace.
With the light of ineffable love streaming down on
the hash of his face.
Will, do yon think he remembers? or has he for
The old dog crippled and blind, who always
limped up at his call,
The pipe of the early thrushes, the bloom on th
My facA, that his eyes were fixed on when I took
m him to die on my knees?
O God! let him not forget me! Let him still remem
ber, and wait.
And watch with a wistful longing when they open
the goldeu gat;
Watch with a wistful looging till he sees me enter
Pure as a little child, and free forever from sin!
But the house. Will, ths lonely acrts, the poor
little empty chair,
The picture-books uuopened, the silence upon the
How shall I listen o' night to the moan of the
winds on the hill?
And the rnh of the rain from the tkies? God', how
I shall misthim, Will!
From Temple Bur.
THE TELLTALE EYE.
BY A TRAVELLER.
Some years ago, while living in Paris,
I met with a French detective who was
boarding for the while at the house at
which I was sojourning. I confess I was
drawn to the man from the tirst. He was
a frank, open-hearted, careless French
man, whose only aim seemed to be to enjoy
life. I had no idea that he was a detec
tive, but supposed him to be simply a
young man of fortune. Together we at
tended the various places of amusement,
and 1 soon found my friendship for Eu
gene Laromie was cordially reciprocated.
He was a tall, splendidly-formed man,
with a good-looking careless face, black
hair and whiskers. A close observer
would have noticed self-reliance and de
termination in every feature, and the calm
clear eyes told of more than ordinary
courage. He was quiet and unobtrusive
in his manners, and was decidedly a favor
ite with all in the house.
One morning as Laromie and I were
sitting at breakfast, an old gentleman
who had been boarding there for some
time (he was there before my arrival)
came in and seated himself opposite us.
Laromie glanced at him carelessly, but I
noticed a quiet smile in the corner of his
mouth as he did so. I noticed also that
Laromie was longer over his breakfast
than usual, and rose only when the old
gentleman did. My surprise wras soon
ended, however ; for as the old gentle
man turned to leave the dining-room,
Laromie approached him, and laying his
hand on his shoulder, said, quietly :
"Monsieur Du Far, you are my pris
oner." The old man turned deadly pale, and
glanced around hurriedly, as if to secure
some means of escape. But Laramie's
grasp on his shoulder tightened, and he
continued, coolly :
' Monsieur Du Far, I arrest you in the
name of the state, for forgery and coun
terfeiting." "Who are you?" faltered the old man.
"Eugene Laromie, one of the secret
police of Paris, better known to you as
The old man said not a word, but suf
fered Laromie to lead him away. I fol
lowed in the most complete astonishment.
Arriving at the street entrance, we found
a cabriolet waiting for some one. La
romie, after telling me that he would see
me again during the da' and explain the
matter, entered the vehicle with his
prisoner, and drove off.
I was positively bewildered by what I
had seen and heard. Laromie a detec
tive I I could scarcely credit it. I felt
not a little uneasy, too. I had been ex
pressing my opinions with regard to the
government and condition of affairs to
him without reserve, and many of them
were not very complimentary to the
"powers that be." I could not help fear
ing that his duty as a government official
might require him to get me into trouble ;
and I was somewhat impatient to see him
and have an explanation of the whole
matter. I did not meet him again until
late in the afternoon.
"Well, mon ami," said he, as he
entered my room, where I sat smoking,
"have you recovered from your surprise ?
Ha, ha ! I don't know which was more
amusing, this morning, your astonish
ment or that of old Du Far. The rascal
was completely caught, and 1 do myself
the credit to believe it has been one of the
neatest affairs yet performed in Paris."
"Laromie," said I, as I pointed to a
chair, which he took, "I am afraid I have
been very imprudent since I have known
What do you mean?"
'Not knowing your real character," I
answered, "I have been perfectly unre
served in the expression of my opinions
with regard to your government, and mat
ters in general here."
"You fear, then, that I may have been
playing the spy on you, and reported
your sayings to the head of the Bureau of
Police ?" he said, hastily, while his face
"Exactly," I replied.
He rose abruptly from his seat and
went towards the door; but in a moment
he came back, laughing.
"Knowing your opinions of our system
here," he said, good naturedly, "1 don't
blame you for the suspicion, especially
after what you witnessed this morning.
But, believe me, mon ami, it is no part of
my duty to sacrifice my honor ; and being
on such intimate terms with you, I should
have warned you, had I thought it neces
sary for you to be cautious. But I am
willing for you to hold your opinions, so
long as you do not interfere with matters
here. You have wronged me greatly, but
I forgive you."
I at once offered him my hand, and
apologized for my suspicions. He laughed
good-naturedly, and assured me that I
was forgiven. Then we sealed the for
giveness with a cigar and a bottle of
"Now," said I, "I want you.to tell me
something of your experience as a detec
tive ; for, from what I have seen of you
to-day, 1 think you must be an uncom
monly clever fellow. Suppose you giva
me the history of the case you have just
"They say at headquarters," said Laro
mie, "that I do my work well, and I be
lieve the compliment is not undeserved.
I give great care to my cases, and am
usuallv employed in those which are con
sidered difficult. But instead of telling you
of the case that happened this morning,
supjH)se ou let me relate what I consider
my most famous exploit."
"By all menus. I want to know, also,
why you lwcamc a detective. Tell me
anything you like. 1 shall be a willing
"I tliink I must have been born for my
profession," said Laromie, brushing the
ashes off his cigar ; "for in my childhood
I was always finding out other persons'
secrets. My com anions could hide noth
ing from me, and it seemed to me that
events had only to happen for me to
know them. Manj that I did not seek to
learn forced themselves under my very
eyes, and frequently to my great annoy
ance. As I grew ap, this talent, for so I
consider it, increased. When 1 came of
age, 1 found myself in possession of an
ample fortune whioh was left by my late
father. There was no necessity for me to
adopt any profession, or enter any branch
of business, for my support was already
guaranteed ; but, in order to give my
talents room for legitimate use, I deter
mined to enter the secret service of the
government. The chief of the secret
police was a friend, and I sought him, and
usked admission into his force. At first,
he advised me strongly against the course
1 wished to pursue, giving me many rea
sons which it is useless to mention here.
Some of them were good, others of no con
sequence ; but none of them sufficient to
alter my determination. 1 pressed my
application with so much earnestness that
the chief at last consented to take me on
trial for six months. At first, he gave me
only trivial cases ; but I soon satisfied
him that I was capable of better things than
these, and he gave me more responsible
duties. I succeeded so well in every
thing, that in less than three months I
was promoted to a position of great trust
and importance. 1 have now been in the
service nine years, and during that time
have made myself valuable to the govern
ment; and it has become customary,
whenever a case requires unusual talents,
to entrust it to me ; and I do not remem
ber but one instance in which I have
tailed to give satisfaction.
"Having told you this, mon ami, simply
in compliance with your request, I will
now relate what I consider my greatest
"About fifteen months ago I was sum
moned by the chief, aud inlbrmed that a
murder had been committed in the Fau
bourg St. Antoine, attended by an uncom
mon amount of mystery. He wished me
to visit the spot immediately, and take
charge of the case, which promised to be
an interesting one. .1 at once repaired to
the house. 1 found it in. charge of the
authorities, who had refused to allow any
thing to be disturbed until I had visited
the place. 1 was told that the murder had
been committed on the previous night.
The victim was an old woman who had
amassed a considerable sum of money,
which she always kept hidden in her cham
ber. It was generally known in the
neighborhood that she was very miserly,
and kept her money by her, being un
willing to trust it out of her i sight. Her
body was lying on the floor of the cham
ber, and the room had evidently been
plundered by the murderer. The woman's
throat was cut through to the spinal
column, and though she lay in an im
mense puddle of blood, there were no
stains on her dress, and no blood marks on
the floor of the room. This was singular,
and at once convinced -me that the deed
was done by a practiced hand. The mur
derer had evidently held the woman in
one position with one hand, while he cut
her throat with the other with one power
ful sweep of the knife. There was no
other clue to the assassin. It was of im
portance to know that the murderer was
not a novice, and, from the manner in
which the deed was done, I inclined to the
opinion that he was not a Parisian, for the
method had never been practised in the
"I returned to the Bureau and informed
the chief of the result of my observations,
at the same time telling him that I had
very little hope of succeeding, the clues to
the mystery being so obscure. Neverthe
less, I promised to do my best to unravel
it. In about three weeks I was sent to ex
amine into another murder. The victim
this time was the mistress of a boarding
house, end was a widow somewhat ad
vanced in years. Her chamber had been
entered and robbed, and her throat had
been cut to the bone, in precisely the same
manner as in the other case. She, too, lay
on the floor, weltering in a pool of blood,
but nowhere else was a drop of the blood
visible, on her person, the floor, or the
furniture. Evidently the same man had
committed both murders. The only differ
ence in the circumstances of the second
affair was that I found on the floor near
the body a pocket-handkerchief folded
into a three-cornered shape, and showing
marks of having been knotted at the
"The thing perplexed me greatly, and
I felt quite hopeless of dispelling the
mystery which surrounded it. The
pocket-handkerchief was of no use to me,
as it had belonged to the deceased.
Nevertheless, I took it with me, hoping
that it might be of use some day. I was
very anxious to trace the assassin, for I
began to see that he was commencing an
organized system of murder ; and besides
this, I felt that my reputation was at
"While pondering over the matter -and
it was rarely out of my thoughts
one of my friends, who is a photographer,
communicated to me some intelligence
that he had gained from his reading and
studies. He had seen it stated that the
last impression made upon the eye of a
dying person would be retained there for
a certain time after death. That being
the case, he thought it possible to obtain a
photographic likeness of that impression,
and was very anxious to try the experi
ment. The matter interested me at once,
and I readily promised to give him an op
portunity to test it in the next murder case
that came within my observation. I saw
plainly that the discovery, if successful,
would be of immense importance in trac
ing murderers, and I had a vague hope
that it would enable me to find the man I
was seeking, as I was confident that he
would repeat his performance before long.
A month passed away, and then a third
murder occurred. This victim was, like
the second, the keeper of a boarding
house, and was killed for her money.
She, too, lay weltering in a pool of blood,
with her throat cut to the bone, while, as
in the other cases, the wound had been
inflicted so as to caus j no splashing of
bloed.. The handkerchief lay near the
corpse, as in the second case, but seemed
to have belonged to the assassin this time,
instead of being the property of his
"I at once despatched a messenger to
my friend the photographer, who soon ar
rived, bringing with him instruments of
great power and delicacy, which he had
procured in anticipation of this event.
The eyes of the murdered woman were
wide open, and we had no difficulty in fix
ing her face in a proper position. The
day being clear and bright, an excellent
negative was taken, and when the impres
sion was transferred to the paper, we
found it the profile of a man's face. The
upper portion was obscure, but the lower
part, from the nose down, was perfect.
Tne features were those of an Italian.
This confirmed my supposition that a
foreigner had committed the murders.
Only the lower part of the face being pro
duced, I was somewhat perplexed. It
was too iad to be so near the end I
sought, and yet to be baffled by an imper
fect picture. I was sorry that only the
profile was the last thing seen by the dead
woman. Had it been the full face, I
might have had more to encourage me.
Then again, there is something common
to all Italians in the lower part of the
face, and what resembles one might with
reason be said to resemble another in this
respect. However, my friend and I
were delighted with the result of our ex
periment. It was a novelty then ; now it
is a common thing. We decided to say
nothing about it until we had made other
trials, unless we found it necessary for the
development of the case I was engaged
upon. I provided myself with a copy of
the photograph we had taken, and deter
mined to subject every Italian I met to a
rigid inspection. On the whole, the mat
ter was progressing favorably, and al
though the difficulties in my way were
formidable, I could not help feeling en
couraged by the events of the day, and I
resumed my task with new vigor.
"I at once busied myself with searching
for my man among all the Italians that I
met. I frequented the places mostly pat
ronized by them the boulevards, the
cafes, the theatre and the opera. Every
Italian I met, even down to the organ
grinders, I subjected to a rigid scrutiny,
and once or twice came near getting into
quarrels with persons who resented my
conduct as impertinence. At least two
months passed away in this fruitless
search, and, in spite of the advantages
which I possessed, I began to despair.
"At last, the government haviug occa
sion to send me to Switzerland on a secret
mission, I found myself in one of the
small towns of that country. Having
transacted my business, I set out on my
return. In the compartment in which I
was placed were four persons. One was
an old lady, another a young one, the
third a priest, and the fourth a man whose
features I could not see, as his hat was
drawn down over them. I knew at once,
from the man's manner, that he was try
ing to avoid being recognized, and I de
termined to watch him.
'After we had gotten fairly underway,
and had left the town some twenty miles
behind us, the man raised his hat, and I
could scarcely repress a scream of delight.
There sat the very counterpart of the pic
ture I had in my pocket. 1 was confident
of it from the first, but I knew that it
would never do to alarm him at first, and
I did not wish to arrest him until I was
sure of fastening the charge upon him.
Every feature coincided exactly with those
of the photograph. Although I felt ccr
tain of this, 1 quietly took out the picture,
and compared it with the face before me.
The examination satisfied me.
"It was necessary to proceed cautiously.
As soon as I had entirely recovered my
self-control, I caught the fellow's eye.
'"Monsieur is Swiss?' I said, inquir
ingly. " No,' he replied, with an unmistaka
bly Italian accent, 'not Swiss.'
" 'Italian V I said.
" 'Monsieur is going to Paris?'
"Yes. Are you?'
" 'No. I shall leave the cars at Dijon.
Has monsieur ever visited Paris ?'
' 'Yes, frequently. I was there several
" 'Ah, then you heard of the terrible
murders that took place in the city during
"The man started slightly, and looked
at me searchingly. I could scarcely re
press a smile, but I kept my countenance
" 'What murders?' he asked, hurriedly.
'I narrated the incidents of the three
murders with apparent carelessness, but
all the while watched him calmly. He
was nervous, and as you Americans say,
'fidgetty.' Everything thus far confirmed
my suspicions. I was confident that I had
my man, but I determined to try him a
little further. Since the last murder I had
carried with me, together with the photo
graph, the handkerchief that I had found
near the body of the third victim, and
which I suppose had belonged to the assas
sin. Now I drew it out quietly, and,
while pretending to use it, displayed it in
such a way that the man could not help
noticing it. As his eyes rested upon it his
face grew perfectly livid. He glanced at
me with a look of terror, but then by a
powerful effort regained his self-control,
and turned to look out of the window.
In a few minutes he turned to me again.
" 'Monsieur,' said he, 'that is a singular
handkerchief you have. Will you let me
"I handed it to him, and lie gazed at it
searchingly. I saw his lips close rigidly.
After a searching examination he handed
it back to me.
' 'There is a singular history connected
with that handkerchief,' said I. 'The last
of the victims of whom I have told you
was a distant connection of mine, and I
was the first one to discover the murder.
I saw this handkerchief lying on the floor
near the body. It was folded into a three
cornered shape, and had the appearance of
having been knotted. I supposed it had
been used in the assassination ; but as it
was not injured, and as I took a fancy to
it, I took possession of it before the offi
cials came. Do you know I have always
had an impression that the murderer was,
begging your pardon, an Italian?'
"An Italian ?' cried the man, suddenly,
showing signs of great excitement.
'Why do you think so ?'
" 'From the manner in which the throat
was cut. I have heard that your country
men are deucedly clever with the knife in
matters of this sort. But it's an ugly, un
pleasant subject. Sup)ose we drop it ?'
" 'Willingly,' said the Italian.
"With that our conversation ceased.
During the remainder of the le, as I sat
silent, with my hat drawn over my eyes,
feigning sleep, I watched the Italian
closely. He never took his eyes off from
me, and I noticed that he glared at me
with a look that was not indicative of a
very warm friendship. As the train en
tered the town of Dijon, I quietly pre
pared my revolver (with which I am al
was provided when on duty) for use.
'"By the way,' said I, taking the photo
graph from my coat pocket, 'I forgot to
tell you of a new discovery which was
made in connection with the last murder
of which we have spoken. It has been
found that the eye of a dead person re
tains for a certain time the last impression
made upon it. This being made known
to us, we determined to try it with the
hope of discovering the murderer of my
relative. We procured an artist, who
made an excellent photograph of the eye
of the murdered woman. To our delight
the features of the assassin were revealed
distinctly. Here is the picture, if you
would like to see it.'
"The train stopped at the depot, and
the guard appeared at the door as I handed
the photograph to the man. He glanced
at it for a moment, and then with a yell
sprang to his feet, and moved towards the
door. I had anticipated him, and as he
turned he saw me standing at the door,
covering him with my revolver.
" 'One step more, and I will fire,' I
said. 'In the name of the law, I arrest
you upon three distinct charges of mur
der.' ' In a few minutes I had him hand
cuffed. I did not get out at Diion, but
kept on to Paris with my prisoner. On
the way he confessed everything ; and in
deed, on searching him, I found a mem
orandum book with a calendar. Opposite
the date of each murder there was a black
cross, and other dates had a slight mark,
with the names of women, and the words,
without husbands.' These, he told me,
were murders which he meant to have
committed. I also found in a private
pocket of his coat a large, pointed, sha p
double-edged knife in a paper sheath. The
picture which I had shown him had com
pletely cowed him, and had induced him
to confess everything to me.
"Well, he was tried, convicted and be
headed, and I was complimented by the
chief for the way in which I had conduct
ed the case. I really do think it was done
handsomely, if you will allow me to say
I thanked Laromie for his story, and we
talked for a long time about criminal af
fairs in France. He promised, now that
I knew his true character, to take me with
him in some of his rounds, and show me
the wonders and mysteries of Paris. I
frequently availed myself of this kind
offer, and some of these days, when I have
leisure, may be tempted to relate my ex
perience for the benefit of my readers.
"THE FIRST PRIVATE."
A rare specimen of soldierly human
ity once appeared at a Southern hotel.
In the large bar-room of the house,
during the evening, a discussion arose
touching certain events that transpired
at the battle of Shiloh. The dispute
waxed warm. Many of those present
had been in the war some engaged on j
the one side, and some on the other
and, being military men, and ofticers
at that, they were very emphatic. At
length a modest gentleman, who had
been sitting in a corner, quietly listen
ing, arose and came forward.
"Gentlemen I" said he, "I happened
to be in that battle was in at the be
ginnings, and came out at the end
and, if you would like, I will tell you
just how it was."
All were respectfully silent while he
spoke, and they could not be otherwise
than attentive for the man's descrip
tion of the battle was so precise, so
circumstantial, so eloquent, and so
startlingly vivid, that those who had
been there seemed to be living the fiery
scene over again. When he had con
cluded, all understood, and there was
room for no more dispute. On the
following morning, the soldier of Shiloh
went to the office to settle his bill pre
vious to departure, and asked the
amount of his indebtedness. Said the
"You were in the army V'.'
"May I ask what office you held?"
"I held no commission, sir; I was
but a private soldier."
"Is it possible? Well, sir I I shall
claim the privilege of celebrating this
rare event by making you a present of
a receipted bill without further cost to
you. Of the thousands of soldiers who
have stopped at my house since the
close of the war, you are the first
WHERE THEY DRINK BEER.
Beer is drank pretty freely in all
parts of Germany; but in Munich it
literally supersedes water, which is only
used for boiling potatoes, washing
dishes, and making beer. As much
beer as a person can drink can be had
for ten pfennigs, or about two and one
half cents cold and sparkling and it
is not to be wondered at that every
body relies upon it, when good drinking-water
is so scarce, and if you put a
lump of ice in it will cost as much
money. A visit to the breweries and
beer-gardens and tap-rooms of Munich
would astonish the most inveterate
beer drinkers of Philadelphia. It is
sold at the breweries in mugs holding
about as much as four ordinary glasses,
and so great is the demand that of an
evening when the spigot of afresh barrel
is turned it is never stopied until the
barrel is empty. We have seen five barrels
thus running at one time in a large es
tablishment, the mugs being filled with
remarkable dexterity. It is used in
every family as a part of the daily food,
young and old partaking of if with all
the freedom that we use water. They
contend that it is healthy, and much
less injurious than coffee, and that as
few persons injure themselves by drink
ing it to excess as others do by drink
ing to much coffee.
Chicago has 45,000 schoolchildren,
with 810 teachers.
In England and Wales there are
6S,538 persons of unsound mind, an in
crease of 1,902 over last year. The
ratio to population is 27.57 to 10,000.
There is a pigeon roost fronftwo
to three miles long, and from half to
three-quarters of a mile wide, in Potter
county, in this State. Every tree is
full of nests.
Secretary Evarts' youngest daugh
ter, Miss Louisa Evarts, is said to be an
expert oarswoman, and can handle a
boat with the skill and firmness of a
The late Caroline B. Derby, of Sa
lem, Mass., after bequeathing the bulk
of her estate of $50,000 to relatives,
leaves $5000 to the Salem Hospital and
$2000 to other local charities.
A Bridgeport (Conn. ) genius claims
to have invented an attachment for the
telephone to prevent a message being
heard by any one on the line other than
the person for whom it is intended.
The Liberian exodus ship Azor is
at Charleston, and will probably take a
cargo of naval stores to Antwerp, earn
ing money to pay off the claims against
her ere she again sails for Monrovia.
Two Treasury clerks in London
have been detailed to read all the
speeches delivered by Gladstone within
the last six years, for the purpose of
culling all passages that may be con
strued into personal attacks on the Earl
The bones of the intrepid explorer,
Pere Marquette, have been discoveed
near point ft. lgnace, Mackinac, aixnit
thirty yards from the former Jesuit
Church, and probably within the fence
which once surrounded the dwellings
of the missionaries.
The letter-boxes at Liverpool have
a spring attached to the flap, and when
a letter is -pushed in a plate moves and
shows the hour of th last clearance.
People can thus tell if they are in time
for a certain mail, and a check is had
on the postmen charged with empty
ing the box.
The old Bassett House, in North
Haven, Conn., which was built in 1713
and was recently demolished, showed
many huge oaken girders and rafters
and beams apparently as sound as when
they first came from the forest. The
property has always remained in the
An acoustic expeiiment was made
in Paris August 21 with the captive
balloon. Twenty musicians went up
in it and played Bilse's "Storm," while
the other half responded from below.
The ruins of the Tuileries gave back a
decided echo, and people in the street
were surprised at hearing the "music
of the spheres" after this fashion.
The "Norwegians complain that
foreign sportsmen, especially English,
arelikelvto exterminate the reindeer
and wild fowl. More than fifty rein
deer are now seldom seen on the liar
danger table-land, where 300 or 400
could formerly be found; and Professor
Friis, the greatest Norwegian sports
man, says there are only 6000 or 8000
in t.hn wholfi countrv. A couple of
sportsmen, moreover, are said to have
Shot 1200 wild towi in a ween.
WliilP! a "French trader was jour
neying toward Constantinople, his cart
broke down and his money rolled out
upon the ground, when it was pounced
upon by some itusxian omceia uu
-di-d iviceinor The Frenchman de
manded his property, but was informed
that according to nussian law an money
found upon the highway belonged to
the State. He appealed to the author-
it ip at. San Stefano. who confirmed
the decision, and he did not get his
Pr.strnaKrp.r Bonirhton. of Kidire-
bury, Connecticut, it is said, has dis
covered in his yard a comb of honey at
tached to an apple tree. It was made
by a small swarm ot oees, ana tuu
comb is as large as a peck measure,
hanging from one end of the limbs of
the tree. At night the bees cover the
outside of the comb instead of resting
in a bunch in some one part ot it. l ney
n this t.n protect it from the dew,
and so closely do their bodies join as
to completely cover me sunac
"Potato plants used to be grown,
a very long time ago, in front yards on
Broadway, New York, for the sake of
the flowers, which were much prized
for bouquets and other ornamental
purposes. However, the potatoes them
selves" I suppose this means the
tubers "became such favorite food in
a few years that the plants were pro
moted backward from the flower Ixnls
to the kitchen gardens and open fields.
The beauty of the blossoms was for
gotten in the usefulness of their roots."
At Scales Mound, near Galena,
111., a week ago, Henry Haar, a young
man lalxring under a mild attack of
insanity, built a bonfire of corn-fodder,
and, divesting himself of all his cloth
ing save a shirt, deliberately walked
into the burning mass, chanting at the
same time his own funeral dirge. He
was stifled by the smoke and fell to the
ground, his feet and legs remaining in
the fire. He was found in that con
dition and rescued from the flames by
his parents, still singing while roasting
alive. Both of his legs have been am
putated, and he will probably die.
There are 4.000,000 dead letters
received annually at the Dead-Letter
Office. Three hundred thousand with
out Tramps, 50,000 partially addressed,
6000 no address, $1,500,000 of ni,ney
orders and drafts 'f money value, 45,
000 packages containing property, $40?
000 in money nine-tenths of which is
returned, the balance remaining in the
Treasury subject to application for
four years ; 15,000 photographs ; 250,
000 Euroiean letters are returned un
opened; one tenth of all letters received
contain property; 10,000 applications
for letters reported lost, the great pro
portion found and delivered.