Mt. Vernon Republican (Mount Vernon, Ohio : 1854), 1855-08-14

              all ft it- yh;r: f ' If J f1itf iilftt 4 m-N nrflrf ' : : OFFICE Sonthweit end Kremlin Block, 2d Floor. IF A FREE THOUGHT SEEK EXPRESSION, SPEAK IT BOLDLY SPEAK IT ALL." ( TERMS $2 00 per Annum. V If paid la Advance. ' VOL.1 MOUNT VERNON, OHIO, TUESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 14, 1855. ,'. NO. 39. , ' t .... . . - ' i ' ' ' ' THE MOUNT VERM H E I L D L I A IS rUBLISUID EVERY TUESDAY MORNING, nnn 1.1 J.H MIUI11.UII 1 llllllllg VIIIU1IJ) Incorporated under the General Lava, TERMS. In Advance $2,00; within nix months, $2,35; after the expiration of nix months, 9,50 ; after the end of the year, $3 00. Subscribers in town, receiving their papers by earner, win be cnargea My cunts addi tional. Clubs often, $1,75 to be paid invariably iu . advance,-. All communications for the paper and bus! ness letters should be addressed to i THO. F'WITHROW, Secretary of the Republican Printing Co, The letters. BY TKNXTSO. Still on the lower stood the vane, A black yew gloom 'd the stagnant air, I peer'd athwart the chancel pane And saw the altar cold and bare, A clog of lead was round iny feet, A band of pain across my brow ; "Cold altar, Heaven aud earth shall meet Before you hear my marriage vow." , I turn'd and humm'd a bitter song That mock'd the wholesome human heart, And then we met in wrath and wrong We met, but only met to part. Full colu my greeting was and dry ; She faintly smiled, she hardly moved ; I saw with half unconscious eye She wore the colors I approved. She took the little ivory chest, With half a sigh she turn'd the key, Then raised her head with lips comprest, Aud gave my letters back to me. And gave the trinkets and the rings, My gifts, when gifts of mine could please ; As looks a father on rhe things Of his dead son, I looked on these. She told me all her friends had said ; I raged against the public liar ; She talk'd us if her love were dead, But in my words were seeds of fire. " No more of love j your sex is known ; I never will be twice deceived. Henceforth I trust the man alone, The woman cauuot be believed " Thro' slander, meanest spawn of hell, (And woman's slander is the worst,) And you, whom once I loved so well, Thro' you, my life will be accurst.' I spake with hear , aud heat and force, 1 -hook her breast with vague alarms ; Like torrents from a mountain source .We rushed into each other's arms. We parted : sweetly gleam 'd the star, And sweet the vapor-braided blue ; Low breezes latin 'd the belfry bars, As homeward by the church I drew. ;The very graves appear'd to smile, So fresh they rose in shadow'd swells ; " Dark porch," I said ' and silent isle, : There comes a sound of marriage bells." " Thirty-Nine. John O. Saxe, the Vermont poet and wit, con tributed the following to the lust number of the 1." .. :,. 1 l 1 i. , H i : I. i liumor that makes it a gem : Ah me I the moments will not stay I Another year has rolled away ; And June (the second) scores the line That tells me I am Thirty-nine I As thus I haste the mile-stones by, 1 mark the nun.bering with a sigh ; ' And yet 'tis idle to repine I've come so soon to Thirty-nine I Ah I few that roam this world of ours, To leel its thorns and pluck its flowers, Have trod a brighter path lhau mine From blithe thirteen to Thirty-nine I Health, home and friends, (life's solid part,) A merry laugh, a fresh young heart, Foe tie dreams and love divine-Have I not tktte at Thirty nine ? O Time t forego thy wonted spite, ' And lay thy future lashes light, And, trust me, I will not repine At iwict the count of Thirty-nine! ID" This little gem was in Putnam for July : BIRDS. 1. . Birds are singing round my window, Tunes the sweetest ever neard ; ' And I hang my cage there daily, ' But I never catch a bird. So with thoughts my brain is peopled, And they slug there all day long ; 1 And they will not fold their pinions, In the little cage ef Song. Btorjj-dUr's (Offering. Sow the Widow Westbrook took the Sheriff. .. . -,. I. Some , years since professional business threw me into the company, fora longday'i . ride through a dreary pine-wood country' in an eastern county, with Mr. Stubbs, iu Sheriff. . By the middle of the afternoon, we had exhausted, as subjects of conversa- tion, the particular attachment case which brought us together, the political condition ' . of the country, the prospects of the grow- ing crop, and several matters of personal history. In fact we had run oui to use a trite but expressive metaphor when sud-j denly Mr. $)lubbs eye flashed, and a strange' mue nmttrea across nis up, as ne re , narked "I haven't told you, Squire, I believe, how I got ruinated servin' the ijrst process : (the Sheriff was not a learned man, and " occasionally misplaced the accent) that ever vaweiuioTOy nanus r "No; lei's have it," I replied, turning half round ia my saddle ; " it cost you some money did it your mistake." " Ah," he replied, witu.a sigh, it cost a heap a heap 1" ' ' This was ..id with the air of much suffering, and I told him if it awakened painful . emotions, he must not think of opening the old wound, merely for my entertainment. .. "Il'a all over now," said he, "and I don't mind tellin' it." -1 don't know how it was, but just at that moment I eanght sight of a shabby (bid of crape around his hat, and I could not help associating it with the sigh, th lugrubrious. expression, and the fr4' sarvin' of the first process." Anent that we shall discover something presently., t '...Mr. Stubbs proceeded : ., , , '., 'I was 'leoted the first'Sheriff of "the ;,ounty; and at that lime there weren't i more'o three or four hundred voters in it To be ire, I was right proud it was such an bonoi', like." ' This ii your second term, then ?" " Yes, I had to miss one erm of service on account of the law ; but then I was depity (deputy) jinder Stokes, and when his time run out, two rears ago, I was elected again. But thnt ain't tellin' bow 1 got ruined by that writ. Now It's reasonable to suppose that the first of a thing ain't as easy to know as the middle or the last. So when the lawyer down at town made o-il the paper and put it in my hands, I was juit as bad onplussed it ever you see." ' ' " What sort of a writ was it ?" " Nothin' but the common sort (capias res ;) 1 know'em now, like a book, f I had only knowed'em then I ' Here anoth er deep drawn sigh supplied the place of words. I took the nla.'uv thinir home, and I called in Bill Stakes ( who was Sheriff him self, after that) and old Squire Lumpkin to counsel me on it. W t read it over three or four times. It ordered me to take the body of Hannah Westbrook, if to be found in my county, and her safely to keep, so mat i should nave her to answer be I ore the judge at the next circuit, for a debt she owed ; and more n (bat 1 was to doit without delay and it was nigh on to five months till court 1 What was I to do with her nil that time, and no sight of a jail in that county 7 ' Well, that was a bard looking case, but that was simply a form, and the writ might nave been served by leaving a copy with me laay. ' "Ob. I know that miffbtv well now. but I didn't know it then! Besides, at the bottom of the paper was writ ' No Bail ;' and I know now that them words mean no bail required ; but I thought then it meant that ef she was to offer the best security in the State, I warn't to take it. And it was the consideration, that Stokes and Lumpkin both put upon it ; and the old Squire weut so far as to say, ef he was Sheriff, he'd take that woman and carry her home and lock her up in the small room with himself and wife, every night of life ontel court come around." " That would have made it pretty safe." " Yes," said Stubbs ; " but I knowed that wouldn't suit me, for my wife (that was then) was high tempered, and never could bear strange people in the room. But, however, after counsellin', I gut Stokes to go with me, and I went up to the wid-der, and told her my business. She was mighty bad scared at first, but when she gut over that she reared and pitched. I should jist gin out and gone home and resigned, but Stokes quieted her say in', we could put her in jail, but ef she behaved herself we'd only take her down to my house, and let her stay till court. Then she turned into cryin', and beggin'' me to take her nigger woman and keep her for security for the debt, which whs only something over a hundred dollars, and the nigger was likely. But I looked in my paper and read it out to her to lake the bodv of . ... ... " ' She said she'd go, and she had the old roan horse saddled up, and while Stokes and me were talkin' and not noticin', she mounted him and started off in a lively canter, on the Georgia end of. the trail. We mounted and galloped after her, and she hadn't got a half mile before we had her. Then she cried and begged again, but we put a plow-line around her waist and held the end: after lettin' her give some directions to her nigger, I took her down to my house. My wife treated her mighty civil, and every day or two we'd lei her go up home and look after her consarns. So time rolled on till about a month before court, and one day Stokes rid up to the gale in a powerful hurry, and called me out." "You've played thunder," said he. " How ?" said I. "Why, takin' of Mrs. Wesibrook. It is all wrong, and she's sent word down to the very lawyer that put out that writ against her, and's got two against you ; one lo make you turn her loose, and toin-er to make you pay her twenty thousand dollars for takin' her 1" " I shan't serve 'em," says I. "Makes no odds. They've done appointed a kurriner (coroner,) and he'll be up to monow, soon as Mrs. Westbrook bas had a chance to swear o somethin. You'd better look out." " Well," says I, " I reckon they've got you too. You was along and helped to do it." Oh. yes," says he, " but they've got me for a witness." 8a'd no more but waed straight into the house, and there I found the widow lookin' mighty pleased, and I told her she WM free to go, and I asked her pardon, shouldn't charge her any board, and I hoped she'd come and see my old woman, and 80 on, and so forth." " She went, I suppose." "She did, and the kurriner came ; and "e showed me how to serve a writ by copy 1 'iall never forget it. she took me into Court, and there weren't nothin done with it the first time. Before next Court my oia woman died, and that upsurged every thinir. What with her dvin' and the suit' I thought I would go crazy, to be sure." " But you didn't ?" . " No. I bore it as well as I could, and just before court( along came the lawyer Jenkins and says he to me, ' I think you and my client, Mrs. Wesibrook, could com promise that case ef you was to talk together about it.' I hardly waited for him to leave, before I jumped on my horse, and rode up to the Widder's. Widder, says I, ' kin we settle that case ?' " She sorter laughed, and said may be. " ' I'd give you a hundred dollars to drop It. say. f. "Sue frowned mightily, and said that wasn't the way she wanted to settle it. , " ' Ml give you two,". said I. "She frowned worse thao. before, and said that wasn't the way she wanted to settle it. " Directly seaiethlng came right into my mind. ' I seemed to see plain. I studied and considered. Then I cleared my throat. ; Widder, says I, ; will you cave me ? , ' ' ' . t ," Says she. 't will 1' ' ' "I Kv "1 Jenkins fifty dollars for his share, and the widder took me for hers I had kept her a onlawful prisoner for nigh four months, but, Squire, she had me onder arrest for mighty near seven years I" I enquired if he had at last been com pelled to separate from ber. He simply pointed to the crape on his hat, and the same strange smile flitted about his mouth. He only added " I judge she got a little more than even." Vampires. We extract the following paragraphs from an interesting article on this subject in a recent number of Household Wordi : " Of all the creations of superstition, a Vampire is, perhaps, the most horrible. You are lying in your bed at night, thinking of nothing but sleep, wken you see, by the faint light that is in your bed-chamber, a shape entering at the door, and gliding towards you with a long sigh, as of the wind across the open fi Ids when darkness has fallen upon them. The thing moves along the air s if by a. ere act of volition ; and it has a human viuge and figure. The eyes stare wildly from the head ; the hair is bristling ; the flesh is livid ; the mouth s bloody. "You lie still like one under the influence of the nightmare and the thing floats slowly over you. Presently you fall into a dead sleep or swoon, retaining, up to the latest moment of consciousness, the fixed and glassy stare of the phantom. When you awake in the morning, you think it is all a dream, until you perceive a small, blue, deadly -looking spot on your chest, near the heart ; and the truth flashes on you. You say nothing of the matter to your friends ; but you know you are a doomed man and you know rightly, for every night comes the terrible shape to your bed-side, with a face that seems horrified at itself, and sucks your life-blood in your sleep. You feel it is useless to endeavor to avoid the visitation by changing your room or your locality ; you are under a sort of cloud of fate. " Day after day you grow paler and more languid ; your face becomes livid, your eyes leaden, your cheeks hollow. Your friends advise you to seek medical to consume his carcass with fire ; for, like aid lo take change of air to amuse your the Hungarian Vampire, he, or some evil mind ; but you are too well aware that it I demon in bis stead, made use of his mortal is all in vain. You therefore keep your j reliques as a vehicle during the commie-fenrful secret to yourself ; and pine, and . sion of these enormities. The body was droop, and languish till you die. When you are dead (if you will be so kind as to suppose yourself in that predicament,) the most horrible part of the business commen ces. You are then yourselt torced to be come a Vampire, and to create fresh victims ; who, as they die, add to the phantom stock. ."The belief, in Vampires appears to have been most prevalent in tile south-east of Europe, and to have had its origin there. Modern Greece was its cradle ; and among the Hungarian;, foles, Wallacniaus and other Sclavonio races bordering on Greece, have been its chief manifestations. The early Christians of the Greek Church believed that the bodies of all the Latin Christians buried in Greece were unable to decay, because of their excommunicution from that fold of which the Emperor of rtussia now claims to be the sovereign Pope and supreme Shepherd. The Latins, of course, in their turn, regarded these peculiar mummies as nothing Ies3 than saints ; but the orthodox Greek conceived that the dead body was animated by a demon who caused it to rise from its grave every night, and conduct itself after the fashion of a huge mosquito. These dreadful beings were called Brucolacs ; and, according to some accounts, were not merely manufactured from the dead bodies of heretics, but from those of all wicked people who have died impenitent. They would appetr in divers places in their natural forms ; would run a muck indiscriminately at whomsoever they met, like a wild Ma' lay ; would injure some, and kill others outright; would occasionally, for a change, do some one a good service ; but would, for the most part, so conduct themselves, mat nothing could possibly be more aggravating or unpleasant. "Fattier Richard, a French Jesuit of the seventeenth century, discourses largely on the subject of Brucolacs, He says, that when the persecutions of the Vampires become intolerable, the graves of the offending parties are opened, when the bodies are found entire and uncorrupted ; that they are then cut up into little bits, particularly the heart ; and I hat, after this, the apparitions are seen no more, and the body decays." Voltaire, in the article on Vampires in his Philosophical Dictionary, says : ' These dead Greeks enter houses and suck the blood of little children ; eating the suppers. of the fathers and mothers, drinking their wine and breaking all their furniture. They can be brought to reason only by being burnt when they are caught, but the precaution must be taken not to resort to this measure until the heart bas been thrown out, as that must be consumed apart from the body." Traces of the Vampire belief may be found in the extreme north even in re mote Iceland. In that curiwis piece of old Icelandic history called the Eyrbyg'ja-8nga of whiph Sir Walter Scott has given an abstract, we find the following narrative, which, though not identical with the modern Greek conception of Brucolacs, has certainly considerable affinity with it : 'Thorolf Beegifot, or the Crook footed, was an old Icelandio chieftain of the tenth century, unenviably notorious for his savage and treacherous disposition, which involved him in continual broils, not only with his neighbors, but even with his own son, who was noted for justice and generosity. Hav ing been frustrated in one of his knavish designs, and seeing no further chance open to him, Tborolf returned home one evening, mad with rage and vexation, and, refusing to partake of any supper, sat down at the head of the table like a stone statue, and so remained without stirring or speaking a wo'd. The servants retired to rest ; but yet Thorolf did not move. In the morning, every one was horrified to find him still sitting in the same place and attitude ; and it was whispered that the old man had. died after a manner peculiarly dreadful to the Icelanders though what j may be the precise nature of this death very doubtful. It was feared that the spirit of Tborolf would not rest in its grave unless some extraordinary precautions were taken ; and, accordingly, his son Arnkill, upon beinj sent for, approached the body in such a manner as to avoid looking upon the face, and at the same time enjoined the domesiios to observe the like caution. The corpse was then re moved from the chair (in doing which. great force was found necessary,) the face was concealed by a veil, and the usual re Iigious rites were performed. A breach was next made in the wall behind the chair in which the corpse had been found ; and the body, being carried through it with immense labor, was laid in a strongly k..;i. u hi:. ti. .l uuiib kjiuu. aii iu i mu. xuonpirn ui M1U malignant old chief haunted the neighborhood both night and day, killing men and cattle, and keeping every one in continual terror, the pest at length became unen durable ; and Arnkill resolved to remove his father's body to some other place. On opening the tomb, the corpse of Thorolf was round with so ghastly an aspect that he seemed more like a devil than a man ; and other astonishing and fearful circumstances soon manifested themselves. Two strong oxen were yoked to the bier on which the body was placed ; but they were very shortly exhausted by the weight of their burden. Fresh beasts were then attached ; but upon reaching the top of a steep hill, they were seized with a sudden and uncontrollable terror, and, dashing frantically away, rolled headlong into the valley, and were killed. At every mile, moreover, the body became of a still great er weight ; and it was now found impossible to carry it any further, though the contemplated place of burial was still distant. The attendants therefore consigned it to the earth on the ridge of the hill an immense mound was piled over it and the spirit of the old man remained for a time at rest. But after the death of Arnkill, says Sir Walter Scott, Beegifot became again troublesome, and walked forth from bis tomb, to the great terror and damage of the neighborhood, slaying both herds and domestics, and driving the inhabitants from the canton. It was therefore resolved found swollen to a huge sixe, equalling the corpulence of an ox. it was transported to the sea-shore with difficulty, and there burned to ashes.' " PhrenologicalJournal. Stlttt itliarcllany. The way He Did It A certain well known and popular merchant tailor of this city, while on a visit to New-York last summer, dined one day at the St. Nicholas Hotel. Now, the said merchant tailor is a man of experience, and well posted in the usages and manners of hotel life, and, on taking his seat with two friends, called up a "culled pusson" who stood near, to act as waiter, and, pulling oui a well-tilled purse, said : "Look he-he-here, d-do you know what th-tb-tuis is 7" "Oh, yes, sar; oh, yes," announced the delighted darkey, who anticipated at least a dollar. " Well," continued our tailor, " if you at-atend to us well, yo-yo-you 11 Know wh-wha-what s m it I The dinner progressed, and our friends received piompt attention from the obse quious waiter. Every delicacy was set before them, and every motion obeyed. Finally they came to "almonds and raisins," (as the bills say,) and just as they were about to leave, the stammering gentleman beckoned to the waiter, who, with expectant look, came up mstanter. slowly drawing out his purse, and holding it up as in the first instance, the merchant tailor said : " I told youth-th-thatifyouwa-wa-waited on us well, you'd know wh-wh-what was in this pur-purse ?" " Yes, sir," said the waiter, with glistening optics. " Well, th-th-there's mo-mo-money in it I" continued the gentleman, with impur-turable gravity; putting the article backi nto his pocket, and rising up, " and as you've only d-d-done your du-du-duty, you don't w-w-want any of it." As the darkey stood with rolling eyes the picture of African indignation the gentleman walked off, and aa they came into the hall, ourstammering friend remarked, " That's the w-w-way I come it over them s-s-sometimes, just for a 1-1-little joke 1" &3T A pious old lady, who was too unwell to attend meeting, used to send her thick beaded husband to church, to find out what text the preacher selected as the foundation of his discourse. The poor dunce w.s rarely fortunate enough to remember the words of the text, or even the chapter and verse where they could be found ; but one Sabbath he ran home in hot haste, and with a smirk ofself-satisfaction on his face, informed his wife that he could repeat every word of the text without missing a single syllable. (The words were as follows : " An angel came down from Heaven and took a live coal from the altar.") " Well, let us have the text," remarked (he good woman. " Know every word," replied the husband." I am anxious to hear it," eontinued the wife. " They are nice words," observed th husband. " I am glad your memory is improving; but don't keep me in suspense, my dear." "Just get your big Bible, and I will say the words, for I know them by heart. Why I said them a hundred times, on my Way home." , " Well, now lot's hear them." ' "Ahem," said the husband, clearing his throat; "An ingen came down from New-Haven and took a live colt by the tail and jerked him out of the halter." Tmaa is a devil in every berry of the grapes Turlrith. Genteel Thieving. There is a class of gentee! thieves, whose depredations upon shop-keepers, tradesmen, and the public generally, .are carried on systematically, (shop-keepers, landlords, are for the most part well acquainted with these gentry ; but the trouble and in convenience of an exposure is so great, that they prefer either to submit in silence to their losses, or by some adroit means to make their unwelcome customers aware that their' practices are known, and thus occasionally make them refund. A friend of ours, in the retail line, has given ns a good deal of curious information on this delicate subjeit. Sometimes, he says, he finds it the easiest way to pass the auair oil as a good loke, as he then gets paid for the stolen article, and all ends pleasantly. Kicking a fellow out of the shop, he says, will do in some instances ; but to do this safely, you must be careful in choosing your subject. There is an old gentleman, a family man, with daughters and nephews, and neices, who has been in the habit of robbing our friend for years. He never spends much ; and for every shilling he spends, he will steal a dollar's worth if he can. " So long," said our Mend , " as it paid to let him alone, making a pront out of bis connection ; but when bis family married and setttkd elsewhere I. hit upon a plan to stop his depredations and this is how 1 do it whenever comes in, 1 nx mm with my eye, putting my hands in my pockets, and staring at him point blank. Whatever he wants, others serve him with, but I never take my eyes off his face. He can't stand that long he's nearly done for, already and I don' expect to be plagued with him a month longer. And now for the ladies though this we feel to be extremely delicate ground, and we shall go over it lightly. The newspapers nave lately recorded an instance, in Boston, ot a well-dressed youn woman being detected with fourteen poundi of old iron stowed away in her bosom an offence which must undoubtedly have weighed heavily upon her 1 And in New York, an ungallant shoemaker, in trying on a pair ol boots tor a lady customer, made some discoveries not altogether usual to the situation, which led to the calling of policeman, who detected, hung upon books attached to ber garters and the in side of her dress, a great variety of articles which she had captured in her evening foray among which, we recollect, were several pairs of boots and shoes, a coil of rope, a salt mackerel, a Britannia ware tea- set, a mouse-trap, and other household utensils " too tedious to mention-" At the dry good stores these female thieves many of them of first-rate stand ing respectability are so numerous and well-known, that all well-regulated estab lishments keep a " Moorman," one of whose express duties it is to keep watch of them to gently remind them of their little mis takes as they leave the counter, or to put the stolen articles into the bill, as circuin stances may render most expedient. The same friend, who has stood behind a count er for over thirty years, and whose observ ations we have already quoted, has fur nished us with the results of some of his experiences in regard to lady thieves, which cannot be otherwise than valuable :. " When I first opened shop," said Mr. John Brown, the lriend alluded to, knew nothing about it had never bestowed a thought upon it ; and when one day I saw a genteel young girl drop her cambrio handkerchief upon an article wbioh I usually sold for five dollars, and, taking both together, convey them to tier pocket, J seized her unceremoniously, hauled her in to the back room, and a couple of the girls searched her. They found the article upon her, and I sent for a policeman and gave ber in charge. Wasn't I a fool ! She turned out to be the daughter of a clergyman of one of the most fashionable churches. She wa- bailed out in no time the father came down me with upon a charge of con spiracy my shop-girls were either frightened or bought off, and ran away, and 1 was glad to withdraw the charge and pre tend it was all a mistake. But 1 got the reputation of a monster with all the women; and I don t doubt the anair cost me alto gether not less than five thousand dollars in loss ot custom. 1 was anally oblige to protest loudly my sorrow at the mistake, and it all lo my having been drunk--!, who never was so mucn as tipsy in my lite 1 " The next lady-thief who honored me with a visit, robbed me of a shawl worth twenty dollars, while purchasing some tri fling articles, which she ordered sent home. I said nothing, but sent the other articles, and charged for the shawl in the bill. The next day if she didn t have the impudence to bring back the bill, with a temale com pamon, who was present when the package was opened, and to tell me that there must be some mistake, as the shawl was not in the package, as ber " friend" could testify. I had nothing to say admitted the mistake, and she went away, while I lost my shawl as the price ot' this lesson.. . "Soon after, Mrs. , wife of & million- cin, came in, and while looking over some goods, managed to slip some very valuable lace collars into the wide folds of ber open sleeves. When she hrd concluded, I invited' her, under pretence of showing her a new and beautiful article, into the back room. Closing the door carefully, I said, "Madame, you are not aware of what you have done. 1 have observed that at times you are very abstracted in your manner. (I couldn't help emphasizing the word a little ) Allow me to show you what you have been doing." With that, I caught her firmly by the arm, and drew forth my property. She blushed as red as fire, and her eyes flashed but recovering herseif in an instant, she burst into a laugh, and cried, " Really, Mr. Brown, 1 1 am much obliged to you : who would have thought I couTdhve been so ditlraitt ! Why, really, I should have robbed you without knowing it 1" I bowed, said not a word, took my lace collars, and attended the lady to her carriage." Lady-thief, number four, was a very old lady, and an inveterate pilferer. She bad provided herself with a very large pocket, into which, during her frequent visits to Mr. Brewn'i establishment, she contrived to drop numerous valuable articles not, however, without bis seeing and keeping an accurate account of them. At the end of the season, he made out her bill, and included all the stolen articles. She paid it without saying a word, but she never Haded with him any more. We have room for only one more of Mr. Brown's experiences. One day, a fine, handsome creeture came into the shop, and while looking over some goods and purchasing nothing, secreted several valuable articles but in such evident trepidation as to evidently show that this was her first offence. Mr. Brown, who did not wish to expose her before the shop-girls, followed her out, and eomnig up to her as she was crpssing square, "accosted her." Sho would have fallen to the ground, had he not supported her to a seat, where she fainted. When'she revived she immediately restored the property, and fell into a passion of grier and shame. He spoke to ber kindly, and she at last told him her story. She was the wife of a gentleman who had led a dissipated life, and run through a fine propei ty, and who wns now hiding from the officers of the law, literally without bread to eat. She had obtained a situation as governess in an aristocratic family ; she had pawned everything for his sake that she could part with ; and it was to supply him with the means of subsistence, that she had robbed. Mr. Brown offered to lend her the sum she wanted, npon her promise to repay it on the receipt of her salary : she accepted the loan and repaid it punctually. She has since recovered her position and her husband has reformed and she is one of Mr. Brown's customers. But we can go no further. Nor shall we here more than barely allude to the various grades of lady-thieves, who borrow their friend's dresses, shawls, collars, fans, bracelets anything and everything and under one pretext or another, manage to keep them : who go about newspaper offices, with whose editors they have struck up an acquaintance, and in his absence carry off books, magazines, stationery, concert tickets, or Bny thing else they can lay 'their hands on; or who, under the guise of agents of some society, or some charitable mission, entice numerous small sums from the pockets of the credulous public. The whole tribe are an intolerable and inemdi-ble nuisance, whose perseverance and impudence are fully equal to their audacity. It is the conduct of such women as these that disgraces their sex, and makes the very name of women contemptible to those who have been made victims of their depre dations. The best remedy we can think of would be to organize by law a court com posed entirely of women, including judge, counsel, officers and jury, before' whom these delinquents should be secretly tried, and punished according to the enormity oiT me ouence. iiie&nwniio ine nonsi puonc of all classes must continue to " suffer and be strong" which is Mr. Longfellow's version of " crin and bear it" under the constant peculations of the disciples of genteel thieving. Graham' I Magazine. Among the New Hay. BT CHIOAOO TATL0R. The fragrance of new mown hay is float ing in at country doors and filling country barns, and freighting country air. Min gled with the breath of dying clover, the tones of merry children and the songs of summer birds, it steals upon the senses, and steals upon the heart, and brings again memories long ago torgotten. Don t you wish you could be as happy as you were once, among the bay-cocks 7 That you could follow as delightedly as ever, the wake ol the mowers, and play burglar to the houses that the bee built ? That you could fight the angry tenants as spiritedly with wisps of hay and whirling bat and clubbed pitch -fork, as ever you did? That you could find a cup full of happiness in some nest among the rushes? That you could feel like begging for a bed on the new bay in the mow 7 Kut as you never can, what a beautiful provision it is, that you can live at all over in thought ; that you can go back through the years as easily as one can thread a field of corn, and be somebody younger and happier and better than the somebody now. lou are lying under the broad leafy maple again ; a robin rustles out from the recess of shadow above, and a squirrel darts up with a chirrup of joy. The bob-o'links are swinging on the rushes in the meadow, and the great sun is shining over all. the oattle aie grouped where the creek runs stillest and deepest; the sheep are panting under the bink ; the roof of the house seems dancing with heat. . Un through the meadow, the mowers advance ; the swath-note comes to your ear on the air. You will be a man, by and by, you think; and swing the scythe and lead the field. r on will have a meadow ot your own, and stream shall run through it, and there shall be whole families of squirrels in the trees, and bevies ot birds in the bushes, and they shall all be yours. You wili marry Ellen Loveland, whose father lives just over the hill, if she will only kiep as handsome as she is now, and you will live in a house of your own, a very fine bouse, with ever so many rooms in the house, and e veer so many things in the rooms. Little boys and girls will stand in rows and "make their obeisance" as you pass the school house at noon times, just as you and your comrades now do homage to the 'Squire. iou win do a squire, ana you win always have a pocket full of new pennies to give them, but then you will be very grand with your gift, and carry a cane, and a watch, and an immense seal depending there from. You will be richer than Joe Sikes, who calls you "names," and he shall mow for you, and eat in the kitchen, while you sit in the parlor and read. Human nature is packed away very closely in the smallest of bodies sometimes, and so there's a world of it in the bosoms' of children. But the little boy that divided Lis dinner with you at school, becsuse you hsd fed your own all away to the fishes, and fancied you never would be hungry again hs shall ride in your carriage ; if you should be rssr rich, perhaps you mty cite him firm. It is then, yon will be M to pluck the ' fruit from the trees without climbing, and wind up the clock without mounting a chair. And so you dreasa on, till a yellow-winged butterfly flutters along, and you set forth in pursuit. Down comes your bat again , and again, just where it alighted. You are there on your knees in the grass. No farm and no Ellen, but just a butterfly under the bat. Yon lift it a little and look. A grass-hopper bounds plump in yourface, nothing more I . You are up just in time to see the treasure you sought, disappear ing from sight, and quite out of reach. Very splendid were our morning dreams long ago in the meadow, but like the grass the mowers cut then, they are faded and gone. ' 1 . ' R Touching Incident. , In passing down Bloomfield Street, wt think it was, we met a man in the winter of life, bis gray hairs falling over his pale features, and with staff in hand, laboring to reach bis home. The bad work he made of it led the bystanders to tbink him intoxicated. He would walk a short distance in a very unsteady manner, then pause and lean upon his staff, a source of merriment to the boys, and of merriment to the men, who, like the Levites of old, wagged their heads and passed by on the other side. ' Pausing a moment to look at the old man, we noticed a little girl, (God bless ber 1) anxiouslv watching his movements and evidently desiring to do something to as sist him. She might have seen lourtcen winters, was richly dressed, with a pretty face and an eye full of meaning, expression and soul, and with books in hand, was probably on her way to school. The little Samaritan did not long remain inactive. . Approaching a gentleman she inquired, with faltering tongue, while a tear was seen on ber fair cheek. . " Is the old gentleman sick or intoxica ted ?" " Drunk, I guess," was the heartless reply. Ai length, with the soul of a hero, this little angel of mercy approached the old man, and after a moment's conversation, the two were seen wending their way along the street, the little girl supporting the tottering form of him whom the unfeeling crowd had left to his fate. On inquiry, we learned that the old man was a worthy person, and having gone out on a morning walk, was suddenly overtaken by a sort of blindness, whiuh occasioned, though unconscious of it himself, his un steady gait. He is a temperate man, and sickness subjected him to the jibes and jeers ot the multitude, save mat nooie hearted girl. , 1T . T . . 1 weu'ieu w learn nor name, dui were unable to do so. How like an oasis iu this desert selfish world such conduot appears! Whoever that girl may be, we say, Uod bless her Fall River Monitor. ' The Loss of a Wife. In comparison with the loss of a' wife, all other bereavements are trifling, Tli6 wife ! she who busied herself so unweari-edly for the precious ones around her; bitter, bitter is the tear that falls upon her cold clay I You stand beside ber coffin and think of the past. It seems an amber-colored pathway, where the sun shone upon beautiful flowers, or the stars glittered overhead. Fain would the soul linger there. No thorns are remembered, sa- 3 lho"& your hands may unwillingly have planted. Her noble, tender heart is open to your inmost sight. You thiuk of her now as alt gentleness, all beauty, all purity. But she is dead I The dear head that laid upon your bosom, rests in the still darkness, upon a pillow of clay. The hands that have ministered so untiringly, are folded white , and cold, beneath the gloomy portal. The heart whose every beat measured an eternity of love, lies under your feet. The flcwesg she bent over with smiles, bend now above her in tears, shaking the dew from their petals that the verdure around her may be kept green and beautiful. Theie is so strange a hush in every room, no light footstep flashing around. No smile to greet you at nightfall. And the old clock ticks, and strikes and ticks-it was such music when she could hear it t No it seems a knell on the hours through which you watched the shadows of death gathering upon her sweet face. And every day the clock repeats that old story. Many another tale it teleth too of beautiful words and deeds that are registered above. You feel oh, how often that the grave cannot keep her. Shobt Lsciuas to .Youvo Lambs.- Have a good piano or none. Be sure to have a dreadful cold when requested to " fuvor the company." Cry at a wedding. Scream at a spider. Never loave your curl papers in the drswing room. Drop your handkerchief when you are going to faint. Mind you are engaged if you don t like your partner. Abjure ringlets on a wet day. It's vulgar to know what there is for dinner. Never see a black' coat as long as there is a red one, and always give the preference to the elder brother. Get married at St. George's if yon can at al events, get married. Punch. Homslt but Fakcifcl. I wandered into the cVpth of de forest, ssys a Sambo, and nature was beautiful as a lady going to a wedding.' De leaves glistened on de maple tree like new quarter-dollar In de missionary box, de sun sbons as brilliant, and nature looked aa gay as a buck labbit in a parsley garden, and de little bell round de old tbeei sheep's neck tinkled sof Jy in di distance. A BaArjnruL Eipbessiok.--A plain and unschooled man, wnohad received Ids ed ucation principally beneath the open sky, in the field and the forest, and who hsi wielded an axe more than the pen, while speaking of children, remarked with I rue and beautiful simplicity, " Tin Halt eJtijv art ntaretl tht heart." ,Looio is the essence of troth, snd truth is the most powerful tyrsnt but tjws hste the truth. KUy. 0 ' f -V. : i