THE NATIONAL REPUBLICAN 1
PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY
FREDERICK T. WALSER,
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
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Q^yOTEg) TO (POLITOS JIJTQ) GE^E^JIL JTEWS.
VOL. I.
WINSTON, N. C., WEDNESDAY, MAY 29, 1872.
■ NO. 21
A square is the width of a column and
one inch deep.
Liberal inducements offered for
contract Advertisements.
Inconstant.
Inconstant! 0 my God!
Inconstant! When a single thought of thee
Seeds all my shivering blood
Back on my heart in thril.B of ecstacy!
Inconstant! When to feel
That thou hast loved me,wilt love to the last,
Were joy enough to steal
All tear from life—the future and the past!
Inconstant! When to sleep
And dream that thoi art near me is to learn
So much of Heaven, I weep
Because the earth and morning must return.
Inconstant! Ah, too true!
Turned from the rightful shelter of thy breast,
My tired heart flutters through
The changeful world—a bird without a nest.
Inconstant to the crowd
Through which 1 pass, as to the skies above
The ficLle Summer cloud,
Bau not to thee ; 0, not to thee, dear love.
I may be false io all
Ou earth beside, and every tender tio
Which seems to hold in thrall
This weary life of mine, may be a lie.
But true as God’s own truth
My steadfast heart turns backward evermore
To that sweet time of youth
Whose golden tide beats such a barren shore.
Inconstant! Not my own
The hand which builds this wall between our
lives ;
On its cold shadow grown
To perfect shape, the flower of love survives.
God knows that I would give
AU other joys the sweetest and the best,
For one short hour to live
Close to thy h« art, its comforts and its rest.
But life is not all dark,
The sunlight goldens many a hidden slope
The dove shall find its ark
Of peaceful refuge and of patient hope.
And should another’s head
Sleep on thy heart and it should ever seem
To be my own instead,
0 darling! hold it closer for the dream.
God will forgiva the sin,
If sin it is ; our lives are swept so dry,
So cold, so passion-clean,
Thank Him death comes at last—and so—
Good-by!
ELEANOR.
The last notes of the Sophie waltz died
on the perfumed air, and the dancers wan
dered away in groups. Two, a lady and
gentleman, passed into the conservatory,
stopping occasionally to admire the bloom
of some tropical flower, then going on un
til they reached a fountain, whose waters
fell, with a gentle murmur, into the mar
ble basin below. The subdued light shone,
like the soft rays of the moon, upon a
scene of beauty that was almost faultless.
But to the eye of the artist, there was
nothing so beautiful as the lady who stood
beside him, a perfect picture in herself.
From her lovely face, with its dark, starry
eyes, and tender mouth, to the satin dress
that fell around her in graceful,glistening
folds, there was nothing wanting.
Seven years before, Robert Willard was
,a poor artist, and she was Eleanor Ray
mond, the only daughter of a weakhy
merchant. He had loved her then, but
could not ask her father to bestow his
daughter’s hand upon one almost penni
less. So, after gaining her promise to love
him and wait for him, even years, he went
to Rome to win fame and a fortune. • Six
months ago he had returned to New York
and found her a cold, proud woman of the
world, the wife of Oscar Lambert and a
leader in fashionable society. Eleanor had
waited impatiently for a letter from her
lover, but the months lengthened into
three years, and she had not heard from
him. It was not until after her marriage,
and her father's death, that she learned
how the latter had deceived her by keep
ing Robert’s letters, hoping she would for
get her girlish love.
Iler husband loved her just as he did
his fine house, his.paintings ahd his statu
ary. She was beautiful, she adorned his
house, and she was his. Her diamonds
were the envy of all her friends. Sie had
everything wealth could procure, and
what reasonable woman could fail to be
happy under such circumstances?
Iler husband had said these things to
himself sometimes, when he had realized
in a vague way that his wife was restless
and discontented.
Since Robert Willard had come back,
the months had passed likedays. She had
been happy in meeting him at receptions,
the theatre and opera, but had never asked
herself how it would end. Not a word
concerning the past had ever been spoken
between them, and this was the last re
ception of the season just before Lent.
Rumor said he was going to Rome
again; that he was betrothed to a lady in
Rome, and would soon return to America
with his bride.
The evening wall nearly over when
Eleanor was surprised to hear a well-
known voice at her side saying:
‘ : Mrs. Lambert, do you hear your favor
ite waltz? Let ine have my last dance in
America with you.”
She obeyed in an absent-minded manner,
and they glided into the dance, the wild,
weird music seeming to her like a mourn
ful requism over dead hopes. How often,
in happier days, they had danced to the
same strains, when she had thought heaven
could not be more beautiful than earth.
How bitter and skeptical she had grown
since then! What misery had crowded
itself into her life, although it had only
numbered twenty-five years!
But the waltz was ended, and they were
standing in the conservatory before the
fountain. The silence was becoming pain
ful when he exclaimee:
“Eleanor, I must speak at last! For-"
give me and listen ! Although I had heard
you were married, I came back to America
for the sake of seeing you. I thought I
could be near you and be only your friend.
But you are unhappy, and every sorrow I
read in your face casts its shadow upon
my heart. I cannot see you suffer and be
silent. Why did you never write, and why
do I find you married to that man so de
void of principle and honor, and whom I
know you secretly loathe and despise?”
The proud look went out of her face,
her voice was low and tender, her eyes
full of unshed tears when she replied :
“ Robert, I never saw your letters. My
father kept them. I heard of you as well
and prosperous, but thought you had for
gotten me and that I must forget you.
Believing that, my heart was dead to Tove,
and my marriage with Oscar Lambert saved
my father from bankruptcy I deserve
your pity but not your censure.”
To the man who loved her, the seven
years of unhappiness that had separated
them seemed to vanish, and she stood be
fore him a gentle, pleading girl. He had
only one wish in the world—to take her
away and shut out every care and sorrow
from her future life. He said suddenly :
“ You did love me as 1 always loved
you! Will you go away with me? We
will find a beautiful home in Italy, and my
love shall make you happy. Say you will
go!”
It seemed a great temptation to her.
She would go away from the life of which
she was so weary with him who loved her,
the only one she had ever loved.
“'Place your hand in mine, Eleanor.
That shall mean yes.”
Suddenly between herself and the earn
est eyes- seeking her own, there arose a
scene of childhood. What had awakened
such memories at that hour?
She stood by her dying mother, whose
hand rested upon her head with loving
caress, while she spoke her last farewell.
Every word came back to her now: “My
daughter, you will remember your moth
er’s words long years after the lips that
uttered them are dust. When you are
tempted to do wrong, repeat this prayer:
* Read us not into temptation, but deliver
us from evil.’ God will hear my mother
less girl, and save her from sin.”
Eleanor Lambert had lived a gav, frivo
lous life ; she knew but little of moral
courage, still less of Christian duty, but al
mother’s love had left a germ of goodness
in her heart that the world had not de
stroyed, and the remembrance of a dead
mother gave her strength to answer:
“I cannot go. We must part forever
now. If I were your wife, I should be a
better woman. But there will be an end
of my unhappiness by-and-by, and when
I am dead you will love my memory better
for having saved you and myself from
sin.”
She gave him her hand, which he held
in both of his while he said: '
“Dear Eleanor, you are right. For the
last time, farewell.”
A momentlater he was gone, and within
the month he sailed for Europe, and they
never met again. But Robert Willard’s
recollection of her face a* parting lives on
canvas as the “Mater Dolorosa.” You
may perhaps have ieen this same painting
at the Academy of Design, and wondered
if such sad, beautiful eyes ever looked from
mortal face. M. M.
A Cat-astroplie.
A gentleman living in Brooklyn, who
takes great delight in his flour garden,
was for a long time much annoyed by
the depredations of his neighbors’ cats.
It appeared as though his particular
garden was selected for the scene of the
nightly revels of all the cats in the city.
Independent of the desolation they
brought upon his rose, tulip, geranium,
and other flowers, they kept the whole
household awake every night by their
incessant and noisy scrimmages. Driven
at last to desperation, the annoyed
citizen laid in ambush one night lately
with a well-loaded shot-gun, and when
the congress were in full session, blazed
away. In a couple of nights eight felines
feU victims to his unerring aim. As ani
mal matter is good for vegetation, he
determined to bury th$ slaughtered
grimalkins at the roots of his grape
vines. Being a quaint kind of a genius,
it struck him that as the game had done
so much when alive to disorganize his
attempts at adornment, it would be only
fair that they should make as much re
paration as possible after death. He
accordingly buried the eight innocents
in a stright line, equidistant, heads
downward, but left their tails (which in
dead cats are always as stiff as a poker)
sticking out of the ground. To assimi
late them somewhat to the brilliancy of
the flowers around, he adorned each tail
with colored streamers. In doing this
he simply had an eye to the beautiful,
but the effect upon the friends and rela
tives of the buried pussies was as singu
lar as satisfactory. On the first evening
after burial, our friend heard a most
unnatural and terrible howl of anguish
in his garden. Rushing to the window,
by the light of the moon he descried
three or four cats standing opposite
their inverted brethren, and showing
every symptom of the acutest terror.
Their eyes looked like burning coala of
fire, and appeared to be starting out oi
their heads, as they winklessly glared at
those terrible caudle extremities. Their
hair stood on end, their tails were swell
ed to double their natural proportions,
and each cat was standing stiff upon its
toe-nails, apparently spell-bound. For
a minute they thus stood, horribly howl
ing, and then, with a simultaneous
shriek, they all dashed madly over the
fence, and fled in terror away. Since
then our friend has been enabled on
nights to sleep the sleep of the virtuous,
and his flower-beds are left intact. The
discoverers ef the cat-astroplie are sup
posed to have disseminated the news of
the terrible scene among the other felines;
for although occasionally a cat is ob
served glaring for an instant over the
fence at a row of tails, as though seeking
confirmation of the shocking news, and
then mournfully, but precipitately re
tiring, not one has since that night set
its foot in our friend’s garden.
“ To seize the man wherever found,
Who to my name aspires.”
Ye orders flew, and Mr. Squibbs
With dignity retires.
Not many days thereafter, Squibbs
With dignity arose.
And clad his dignity and limbs
All in his Sunday clothes ;
For Squibbs was bid to scenes of mirth
All in ye distant town,
And merrily he cut his pen
To noth ye doings down.
Captain Preble’s Case.—A court of
inquiry is in session at the Navy Depart
ment on the case of Captain G. H. Pre
ble, who was summarily dismissed from
ihe Navy in 1864 by President Lincoln
for allowing the Confederate privateer
Florida to run by his squadron and the
blockade into the port of Mobile. Al
though Captain Preble never had a trial,
it was charged that he was guilty of gross
negligence. Captain ‘Maffit, who com
manded the Florida at the time, testified
that by a ruse de guerre in fix ing the Brit
ish flag he got within hailing distance of
Preble’s squadron, and was promptly
hailed ; that thereupon ho ran down the
English flag and ran up the Confederate
flag ; that Preble immediately fired a
shot across his bows, and in less than
three minutes fired a broadside into the
Florida, which tore the vessel all to
pieces, killed o»e man and wounded'
eleven ; and that Preble thoroughly and I
completely discharged his duty.
The only place the wife of a Congress
man can fairly trust him—and we write
this advice in behalf of virtuous inno
cence —is the Washington Club. The
Washington Club is composed almost
entirely of heads of families, sober,
steady, quiet, business men, who meet
in its elegant rooms for a little relaxation
from their many cares. The club is al
ways opened for a evening with prayer,
and after these pious gentlemen sit
around and read good books, or discuss
light, doctrinal points, such as “Tran-
substantiation,” “Infant Baptism,”
“ Can a man marry his aunt 9” or “ Is it
moral, or in any sense in accordance
with revealed religion, to kill your
mother-in-law ?”
His freedom was at last restored; .
His dignity, alas,
Was wrecked, and even to this day
Squibbs won’t ride on a pass.
Ye Editor’s Perplexities.
An editor is Mister Squibbs,
A man of lordly will,
A mighty man likewise to wield
Ye scissors and ye quill.
Ye humble honors of ye press
With lofty pride he wears ;
Although no millionaire, ho hath
Well nigh a million airs.
He strives with dignity to feed
Ye little Squibbs with beard,
And eke upon ye wings of fame
Ye name of Squibbs to spread.
He takes his little perquisites—
Ye which each Press man knows—
With ready, gracious air,
For which he “ puffs” bestows.
Now, Mr. Squibbs he had a pass
Upon ye railroad train ;
Ye which was stolen ; ye loss of which
It vexed him sore with pain.
Then with a frown of dignity
Squibbs sought ye President;
“ Give orders t2 your hirelings straight,
Through all your road’s extent.
And while he viewed his toilette o’er,
All by a luckless chance,
He hits upon ye stolen pass,
Safe in his Sunday pants.
With lofty air Squibbs gave yo pass
Unto ye ticket man ; -
“Eureka!” muttered he, and turned
Ye face of Squibbs to scan.
Then, with a flaming latcrn, soro,"
tie smote Squibbs on yo head ;
Three bloody brakemen then he called,
Who bore him out as dead.
Fashion Notes.
The reign of the flowers has com
menced again, not only in nature itself,
but also in the toilette, for the latest
Parisian bats are laden with a profusion
of blossoms, and goods of every fabric
are strewn with garlands and bouquets
of beautiful flowers.
The bonnets, which are the precise
mode of 1830, have this season two ad
vantages combined, as they serve either
for round hats or for bonnets. The hat
placed upon the top of the head, and
having the strings tied behind, becomes
a round hat; the same little millinery
device, placed a little further at the back
of the head, and having the strings tied
under the chin, becomes IL'S stylish
bonnet.
Many costumes' of black silk are
trimmed with coloreipsilk, violet, blue,
and pearl grey, also ^’0^6 color, being
the favorite hues.
These bits of color A upon the sombre
black have a charming effect.
Suit en Camein, consisting of two
shades of the same color, are as fashion
able as ever, all shades of brown, grey,
green, etc., being united to form a pleas
ing contrast. This style of dress is
usually made with the Louis XV. vest
and tunic, the latter being open in front,
tight-fitting in the b^ck, and looped at
the sides. The corsage has revers, and
also the bottom of the sleeves.
Fringe and lace are the principal trim
mings in vogue.
Linen dresses of all shades, also sati
nets, are made of blue, pale green,
mauve, salmon and pink. These should
be trimmed with needle-work or white
lace. Many of theseSdresses are elab
orately braided with white, and trimmed
with white guipure.
The comfortable linen blouse, with a
long skirt looped at the sides, is fastened
at the waist with a leather belt and
fancy buckle. To this belt is attached a
useful little contrivance ior carrying one’s
scissors, thimble, vinaigrette, etc.
The wide flounce for the bottom of
the underskirt seems to retain its popu
larity. A very stylish dress was of blue
poult de soie, with basque and overskirt
of golden-brown silk. The skirt and
basque were trimmed with a bias band
of the blue. Upon the blue underskirt
was plaited a very deep flounce of brown
silk, scalloped upon the bottom, and
beaded by a doable row of scallops.
With this dress was worn a jaunty little
sacque of white cloth, richly braided.
This sacque was open behind, had a
little cape and very wide sleeves. It
was trimmed around with a bias band of
blue silk and fringe. The back of the
cape was caught together with blue
bows.
“The Rodeo.”
This is a term peculiar to California,
and exclusive at present to what are
known as the “Cow Counties,” or those
counties in the sov^IIeigi portion of the
State morepartita! ^ly devoted to cattle-
grazing. It is rendered obligatory by
law, during certain months of the year,
to hold “the rodeo.” Stock owners, ac
cordingly, send out “vaqueros,” or herd
ers, to scour the hills and valleys in
search of cattle that are running wild,
and drive them into a large inclosure,
specially constructed for the purpose,
termed a “corral,” where heated irons
are held in readiness, containing the die
of each separate owner, with which to
brand the young cattle. Expert “vau-
queros” enter the “corral,”and recogniz
ing each calf or colt, as the case may be,
by the brand on his mother, lassoes and
drags it aside, to be similarly branded.
When the brands grow dim on the par
ent cow, or on the steers, the impress
ion of the brand is renewed on their
hips; after which they are released and
permitted again to roam at large till
they are needed for the market, or until
the annual period again arrives for re
peating the gathering of the herds.
The “rodeo” is just now a popular in
stitution in the counties indicated. It is
governed by a statute, which provides
for “Judges of the Plains,” who give
their attendance on such occasions and
see that everything is conducted faiily.
The stock-owner intending to hold a
“rodeo” is required to give at least foul-
days’ notice of the fact to parties inter
ested. All unmarked cattle are consid
ered to be the property of the person on
whose grazing-ground they, are found.
The “rodeo” excites considerable in
terest to those who have never witnessed
it, and awakens positive enthusiasm in
the mind of the pastoral portion of the
native California population. It is not
to be wondered at, therefore, that the
news of such an event should spread far
and wide and attract visitors from long-
distances to attend it. The sport is rel
ished with a keen zest, and not unfre-
quently has a sad termination ; for the
reason that a fatherly bull, fierce cow,
or vicious mare, takes a notion occasion
ally to dispute the liberty taken with
their offspring, and make a fierce assault
upon the “vaquer^ . On the occasion
of the “rodeo,” sucl! feats of reckless
daring in horsemanship are often dis
played by the native Californians, as
would make even a Comanche Indian look
on with admiration.
Upon yo lordly Squibbs then sat
Three brakemen,.great and small,
Yo while the wrathful ticket man
His clothes did overhaul.
They found a pass onevery road
That iuns ye world around ;
They bound him fast, and swore they had
Yo king of pass-thieves found.
Economical Cooking in Oregon.—
There is a place in Oregon called the
Smoky Valley, where the people have a
curious way of cooking. They do not
have the trouble of making a fire every
morning when they wish to get break-
fast. They just walk out with their ket
tles, coffee-pots, and whatever else they
need, and cook at the boiling springs.
The water seems a great deal better than
common boiling water, and all they need
to do is to have their kettles in it for a
short time, and their food is nicely
cooked. They are even able to bake in
it. The bread is put into a tight sauce
pan, and lowered into the boiling flood
for an hour or two, and then drawn up
most exquisitely baked, with but a thin
fim on the crust over it. Meatis cooked
here, and beans, which are the miner’s
great luxury. It takes but a minute to
cook eggs, or to make a pot of coffee or
tea ; but if there should chance to be a
“ slip between the cup and the lip,” the
food would be gone beyond recovery.
Since the opening of the Eastern Peni
tentiary, of Pennsylvania, in 1829, 806
convicts, or 4.24 per cent, of the whole,
number confined, have been pardoned
out. And of these 56, or 6.25 per cent.,
have been subsequently again convict-eel
of crime.
The retirement of Graham and Gerry
from the defence of Stokes created some
excitement generally in New York. It
was generally understood that this action
on the part of Stokes’ counsel was caus
ed by his recent statement of certain
facts in connection with the case which
it is supposed would be prejudicial to
his interest, and which was done in
open violation of their instructions.
How We See It.
The adoration which a young man gives
to a woman whom he feels to be greater
and better than himself is hardly distin
guishable from religious feeling. What
deep and worthy love is not so—whether of
woman or child, or art or music? Our ca
resses, our tender words, our still rapture
under the influence of Autumn sunsets, or
pillared vistas, or calm, majestic statues, or
Beethoven symphonies, all bring with them
the consciousness that th« y are mere waves
and ripples in an unfathomable ocean of
love and beauty; our emotion in its keen
est moment passes from expression into si
lence; our love at its highest flood rushes
beyond its object, and loses itself in the
sense of divine mystery.
Is it any weakness, pray, to be wrought
on by exquisite music ? to feel its wondrous
harmonies searching the subtlest windings
of your soul, the delicate fibres of life where
no memory can penetrate, and bind togeth
er your whole being, past and present, in
one unspeakable vibration : melting you in
one moment with all the tenderness, all
the love that has been scattered through
the toilsome years, concentrating in one
emotion of heroic courage or resignation all
the hard learned lessons of self-renouncing
sympathy, blending your present joy with
past soi row, and your present sorrow with
all your past joy ? If not, then neither is
it a weakness to be so wrought upon by the
exquisite curves of a woman’s cheek and
neck and arms, by the liquid depths of her
beseeching eyes, or the sweet, childish pout
of her lips. For the beauty of a lovely
woman is like music: what can one say
more? Beauty has an expression beyond
and far above the one woman’s soul that it
clothes, as the words of genius have a wider
meaning than the thought that prompted
them: it is more than a woman’s love that
moves us in a woman’s eyes—it seems to
be a far-off mighty love that has come near
to us, and made speech for itself there:
the rounded neck, the dimpled arm, move
us by something more than their pretti
ness—by their close kinship with all wo
have known of tenderness and peace. The
noblest nature sees the most of this fan-per
sonal expression in beauty (it is needless to
say that there are gentlemen with whiskers
dyed and undyed who see none of it what
ever), and for this reason the noblest nature
is often the most blinded to the character
of the one woman’s soul that the beauty
clothes. Whence, I fear, the tragedy of
human life is likely to continue for a long
time to com", in spite of mental philoso
phers who are ready with the best recipes
for avoiding all mistakes of this kind.
What are we Coming to $
The history of crime shows that the
law is violated from countless motives,
and sometimes, apparently, without any
motive. Murder has been committed on
almost every pretext under the sun; and
yet the day is coming, is perhaps at hand,
we venture to say, when human, life will
lie taken for reasons hitherto unassigned.
We expect to read almost any morning
some such account as this in the news
papers:
This community was shocked yester
day by hearing that John Doe, a man of
quiet and studious habits, and somewhat
known in a literary way, had murdered
in cold blood an unoffending neighbor,
.Richard Roe. Mr. Doe perpetrated the
horrid deed in open day, in the crowded
street, without the slightest provocation.
When a passing policeman seized him,
and asked him what had prompted him
to imbue his hands (this will no doubt
be the reporter’s exact language) in the
blood of a fellow-creature, lie made no
reply. Then followed this colloquy:
Policeman—Are you insane, Mr. Doe?
Doc—Never saner in my life.
Policeman—had Roe ever done you
any injury?
Doe—None whatever. I had no ill
feeling against the poor fellow.
Policeman—Why then did you murder
him?
Doe—Merely for business purposes,
Policeman—What can you mean?
Doe—I mean that I wish to lecture,
and I have killed the man to give myself
a start. I meant no harm by it. Iliave
done this thing as the best means of ad
vertising myself. My subject is “Our
Duty to Our Fellows.” Howmany tick
ets can I put you down for?—New York
Tribune.
The Banana.—Humboldt represents
the banana as everywhere found in com
pany with the palm. More productive
than the date, its fruit more easily pre
pared for eating than that of the bread-
tree, it feeds the lazy races of the tro
pics at the least possible cost of labor.
Its luscious fruit is well known in our
markets. Weight for weight it is inferior
to wheat as nutritive food, but its pro
ductiveness is to that of wheat as 133 to
1. A single acre planted with bananas
will furnish food enough to support fifty
people. The plant grows yearly from its
perennial root to the height of twelve
feet, bears its one bunch of fruit, and
then dies. - These clusters frequently
contain one hundred and fifty separate
bananas, weighing in all upwards of sixty
pounds. In Java the bananas have a
more vigorous growth.
Caution.—People visiting Wisconsin
are warned that it is no longer safe, as it
was of yore, to imbibe freely of the
liquids retailed in the Commonwealth.
The Liquor law lately passed by the Leg
islature provides, among 6ther things,
that “it shall be unlawful within the
State for any person to become intoxi
cated,” and makes the offence punishable
by imprisonment. A person in an ine
briated condition may be taken in charge
by any good Samaritan and is liable to
have to pay to the said Samaritan $2 a
day for his care.
Not Encouraging.—Says the Savan
nah News : “S. T. Ringgold—Your ‘Son-
nit to a Violet’ is good, but it is an in
variable rule among newspapers to pub
lish no original poetry unless it is paid
for in advance. The idea of making
‘heifer’ rhyme to ‘zephyr’ is something
unique, and would no doubt make a
sensation. Our usual price for original
poetry is eight dollars a line, but as
there are extenuating circumstances in
your favor, we will print yours for seven
and a half. We have unsurpassed facil
ities for doing this kind of work.”
The crnly way to effectually destroy
“ widow’s weeds,” which seem to thrive
in some kinds of soil, is for thehusband’
man to say : “Wil thou ?” Thatmakes
them immediately wilt.
The Original “ Buffalo Bill.”
The most prominent man among the
white scouts, was “Wild Bill,” whose
highly varied career was. made the sub
ject of an illustrated sketch in one of the
popular monthly periodicals a few years
ago. “ Wild Bill” was a strange char-
actor, just the one which a novelist might
gloat over. He was a Plainsman in every
sense of the word, yet unlike any other
of his class. In person he was about
six feet one in height, straight as the
straightest of the warriors whose im
placable foe he was; broad shoulders,
well-formed chest and limbs, and a face
strikingly handsome; a sharp, clear,
blue eye, which .stared you straight in
the face when in conversation ; a finely-
shaped nose, inclined to be aquiline;
a well-turned mouth, with lips only par
tially concealed by a handsome mous
tache. His hair and complexion were
those of the perfect blond. The former
was worn in uncut ringlets falling care
lessly over his powerful formed shoulders.
Add to this figure a costume blending
the immaculate neatness of the dandy
with the extravagant taste and style of
the frontiersman, and you have Wild
Bill, then as now the most famous scout
on the Plains. Whether on foot or on
horseback he was one of the most per-
ect types, of physical manhood I ever
saw. Of his courage there could be no
question ; it had been brought to the
test on too many occasions to admit of
a doubt. His skill in the use of the
rifle and pistol was unerring; while his
deportment was exactly the opposite of
what might be expected from a man of
his surroundings. It was entirely free
from all bluster or bravado. He seldom
spoke of himself unless requested to do
so. His conversation, strange to say,
never bordered either on the vulgar or
blasphemous. His influence among the
frontiersmen was unbounded, his word
was law; and many are the personal
quarrels arid disturbances which he has
checked among his comrades by his sim
ple announcement that “thishas gone
far enough,” if need be followed by the
ominous warning that when persisted
in or renewed, the quarreler “ must set
tle it with me.” “Wild Bill” is any
thing but a quarrelsome man ; yet no
one hut himself can enumerate the many
conflicts in which he has been engaged,
and which have almost invariably re
sulted in the death of his adversary. I
have a personal knowledge of at least
half a dozen men whom he has at various
times killed, one of these being at the
time a member ol my command. Others
have been severely wounded, yet he al
ways escapes unhurt. On the Plains,
every man openly carries his belt with
ts invariable appendages, knife and re
volver, often two of the latter. “Wild
Bill” always carried two handsome ivory-
handled revolvers of the large size ; he
was never seen without them. Where
this is the common custom, brawls or
personal difficulties are setdoxa 44 ever
settled.by blows. The quarrel is not
from a word to blow, but from a word
to the revolver, and he who can draw
and fire the first is the best man. No
civil law reaches him ; none is applied
for. In fact, there is no law recognized
beyond the frontier but that of “might
makes right.” .Should death result from
the quarrel, as it usually does, no cor
oner’s jury is impaneled to learn the cause
of death, and the survivor is not arrest
ed. But instead of these old-fashioned
proceedings, a meeting of citizens takes
place, the survivor is requested to be
present when the circumstances of the
homicide are inquired into, and the un
failing verdict of “justifiable,” “self-
defence,” etc., is pronounced, and the
la w stands vindicated. That justice is
often deprived of a victim there is not
a doubt. Yet in all of the many affairs
of this kind in which “ Wild Bill” has
performed a part, and which have come
to my knowledge, there is not a single
instance in which the verdict of twelve
fair-minded men would not be pro
nounced in his favor. That the even
tenor of his way continues to be dis
turbed by little events of this description
may be inferred from an item which
has been floating lately through the
columns of the press, and which states
that “the funeral of ‘ Jim Bludso,’ who
was killed the other day by ‘ Wild Bill,’
took place to-day.” It then adds : “The
funeral expenses were borne by ‘ Wild
Bill.’” What could be more thought
ful than this? Not only to send a fel
low mortal out of the world, but to pay
the expenses of the transit. — General
Custer.
Saving Money. —Thereis, perhaps, no
one in this world more to be pitied than
the poor man—the man who has got into
the habit of saving until he Saves from
silver delight in seeing his wealth in-
ce.-eo.se, and of counting every dollar of
expenditure as though its loss was some
thing that could never be repaired. Yet
it is the duty of every poor man to save
something. The possession of a few
dollars often makes all the difference be
tween happiness and misery, and no man,
especially with a family dependent upon
him, can be truly independent unless he
has a few dollars reserved for the time
of need. While extreme carelessness as
to the expenditure of money will make
a rich man poor, a wise economy will al
most as certainly make a poor man rich,
or at least make him to a considerable
extent independent of- the caprice of his
employers and of the common vicissi
tudes of life. Nothing is more import
ant to the poor man than the habit of
saving something ; but his little hoard
will begin to grow at a rate which will
surprise and gratify him. Every work
ingman ought to have an account in
some savings bank, and should add to
it every week during which he has full
employment, even if the addition is but
a dollar at a time. If he does this he
will soon find the dollars growing into
tens, and these tens into hundreds, and
in a little time will be in possession
of a sum which is constantly yielding an
addition to his income, which secures
him a reserve fund whenever cne isneed-
ed, and which will enable him to do
many things, which, without a little
money, he would be powerless to do.—
Pittsburgh Post.
_
Dundreary got against a snag while in
Boston. Says he—“ They want to cut
the houses down in order to widen the
streets, because there are so many peo
ple. But if they cut the houses down,
there will not be so many people. The
people can’t live in the houses after
the houses are cut down ; and if there
ain’t so many people, why cut them
down to make the streets wider ?” The
poor fellow had to give up.
Facts and Fancies.
Pleasure is precarious, but virtue is
immortal.
Fair dealing is the bond and cement
of society.
A passionate man scourgeth himself
with his own scorpions.
Good company and good conversation
are the sinews of virtue.
Hard words have never taught wisdom,
nor does truth require them.
We should not retain the memory of
faults we have once forgiven.
Slander is the revenge of a coward,
and dissimulation his defence.
The dock laborers have joined the sail
ors of Southampton iu a strike.
The virtue of prosperity is temper
ance ; the virtue of adversity is fortitude
“One-half the year rain and flowers,
the other half dust and sky,” is Bret
Harte’s description of California.
Love’s Young Dream : A little sighing,
a little crying,'a little dying, and a very
great deal of lying.
The Indians of La Estrelle, Costa
Rica, have assassinated their King. His
nephew reigns in his stead.
A man who had been missing for along
time from Highgate, Vt., has turned up
in a lunatic asylum in Portland, Ore
gon. .
The swallows prove such a nuisance in
Austin, Texas, that the people are obliged
to employ carbolic acid to drive them
away.
The Board of Domestic Missions of
the Presbyterian Church,of Philadelphia,
has authorized the transfer of $9,000 to
the Presbyterian Home Mission, of New
York.
A man was interrupted in an attempt
to drown himself at Niagara Falls. He
is described as an Englishman of culture,
who had got into difficulty at home and
came over here to put an end to his trou
bles.
A wise Frenchman says : “If a lady
says, ‘I can never love you,’ wait a little
longer ; all hope is not lost. But if she
says, ‘no one has more sincere wishes
for your happiness than I,’ take your
hat.”
The police searched a saloon in Port
land, and found an arrangement which
had just been used, in which by pulling
a cord like a bell pull, four pitchers on a
shelf would be tipped over into a tub of
brine.
Two hundred and fifty communists,
sentenced for various terms of imprison
ment and since their trial confined in the
fortifications on the Isle of Aix, sailed
from France for New Caledonia, in the
South Pacific.
A. T. Stewart has given orders to be
gin the work of rebuilding Niblo’s Gar
den in New York as soon as the bricks
are sufficiently cool. He had already ar
ranged for budding a new theater up
town, and the plans originally designed
for that will be used in constructing the
new Niblo’s.
An unfortunate peddler fell into the
river at Chicago, and was rescued, but
after walking some distance suddenly
lost his strength, and expired before as
sistance could be procured. An intelli
gent jury of American citizens investiga
ted the case, and astonished the Coro
ner with the verdict, “ Accidentally
drowned.”
Judge—“I fine Tim Leary $5 for as
sault and battery on Pat Moloy.” Pat
Moloy—“But, your Honor, I want more
damages. He blacked me eye, and if I
had been invited to a tea-party I couldn’t
have gone.” Judge—“ The court knows
nothing about consequential damages.
You must carry your case to Geneva.”
Adjourned.
Two neighbors had a long and enven
omed litigation about a small spring,
which they both claimed. The Judge,
wearied out with the case, at last said :
“What is the use of making such a fuss
about a little water ?” “Your Honor
will see the use of it,” remarked one of
the lawyers, “ when I inform you that
the parties are both milkmen.”
The City Council of San Francisco has
just passed an ordinance which provides
that “any person, not being a profes
sional musician or employed in that ca
pacity, who shall, in a public place in
the city toot or blow aborn, or use and
perform upon an instrument or thing
commonly called and designated as the
devil’s fiddle, shall be deemed guilty of
a misdemeanor, and punished by a fine
not exceeding $20, or by imprisonment
in the County Jail not exceeding ten
day.”
Peshtigo.—Peshtigo looks to us now,
since the snow went off, sadder than ever.
The charred timbers strewing the ground;
the bare cracked foundations ; the heaps
of old iron, car wheels with twisted axles,
and dilapidated locomotives; and sad
dest of all the graves, all over town, of
the victims of the fire. Many of the
bodies of the victims are now being re
moved from their temporary burial-places
to the cemetery. We stood by the open
grave of a man and his wife and child,
near the bank of the river. There lay
the uncoffined, mutilated bodies, hideous
from the effects of the fire and covered
with a white mould. By the grave stood
a large, rough pine box. The hole was
due large ; a sheet was laid in it and the
body of a woman rolled upon it, when it
was lifted out by the sheet andputin the
box. Two women stood “afar off”
weeping, We did not wait to see any
more. Afterwards we saw the funeral
train moving to the cemetery. The box
was on a lumber wagon. A man stood
in front driving, another sat on the rear
end of the box with a spade in his hand,
and two men and five women walked be
hind. There are many graves around
the town. There are still four bodies
buried on the lot of the old Peshtigo
Hotel, and two more lie beside the Com
pany’sstore.—Green Bay Advocate.
You Did.—At a recent trial the counsel
for the prosecution, after severely cross-
examining a witness, suddenly put on
a look of severity, and exclaimed :
“ Now, sir, was not an effort made to
induce you to tell a different story !”
“A different story from what I have told,
do you mean ?” “That’s what I
mean.” “Yes, sir ; several persons have
tried to get me to tell a different story
from what I have told, but they
couldn’t.” “ Now, sir, upon your oath,
I wish to know who those persons are.”
“ Well, you’ve tried about as hard as
any of them,”