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Matters In New York.
ViU-STKECT, Tuesday, Oct. 7
=:uck market has recently
' irtilirial condition ; that its
^ entirely out of proportion to
ar . 1 ’ • ,) t i.iwherc ; that it is a
fla’btn which has been inflated
[": j‘ £ . ln-iicfit of a few; that it
tu the dupes of rising
l I'liirh- illustrated to-day. Its
tl.i, mu'ward from the beginning.
,'^li „f ihfir own dead weight,
utliK-nces emjduyed to create
I '.nh disrobed and skeleton-
, falsehood and deceit.
irticular gift in one
■ ho present or forecastes the
ilin'over that the commercial
at rest. '"1 over the
...a being exhibited wUi.t.
r’h-ep rooted the iinancial crisis
id Imw tardy is the process of
are discharged from work-
1 la-ill enterprise is halted, checks
dl p’,,. place of money, private
"circulates in the place of pub-
' banks confess their weakness,
cut confesses ib inability to
, and the best paper of the
j ;l the •metropolis meanwhile
Vrfinjf a! a discount of twenty-
■i:,!. per annum.
face of all these tilings,
submits to and indulges in
eks that are buried
„li„. 0 dividends are like the
unexplored regions, written all
impossibilities and yielding
n brought out and the public,
u ,i of clii'ontery, are invited
market is created. The large
I 1 1 K . ■■ fancies” sell, then snap
at the victims. Twelve
ml, prices recede five per
il,lo hursts, and in the de-
follows men look around
a; the h'llv which has led
VOLUME XXVIII.
| intlati'
laic hi.'torv of Wall street,
no real cause for the
It was stimulated, not
t flail no inundation, and was
the people. Finally, it has
. and it will be only a natural
and thereafter, until
the country becomes finan-
thcre shall be a steady
: prices until the intrinsic val-
■mck market shall accord
; a; lra.-t with the generally dis-
lo-iidition.
mart like this cannot afford
xperiments for the benefit of a
ultinnle are struggling to
icnuise in so doing evil
and misfortune made
compter. Hence, we
thill street to keep ipiiet; for iufla-
a recurrence of the very
* tlm-ugh which we nre success-
t also to keep quiet, that it
invite the large amount
; is doubtless awaiting an
: investment whenever the
t shall h avc become settled,
II surely flow in, to the ad-
e broker fraternity and the
: large.
Live stock Market.
l.ofisvn.i.i-:, October 3.
tuck trade since our last report
: recovered from the stagnation
-' the monetary erisis. Tliesit-
l'resent- a gloomy outlook for
are loreed to sell at the pres-
■ nio 1 we would earnestly urge
I" withhold their stock for the
as-im.-h as those who arc
- !1 will do so at a sacrefice.
a nL r - since Monday have been
" — the grandest of cattle
being generally very low, a
>' of tin-m being unfit for
ISC.
r—We - [Hole best butcher and
a cattle at Ski’d to -1.7-5; medium,
"rbinan and thin stock, S1.85
i” r b" 1 Ho. gross. There is some
rmil' h cows, which sell as to
yd 1 1 to In per head.
-lhe supply of hogs continues
• "i the demand ; several lots
r- remain in pens unsold
If } fat hogs at S4.G5; xne-
' woeki-rs,.«l.o", to 4.50 per 100
, ~bh'-re is v, ry little demand ;
. f ;‘d being at ruinously low figures,
nominal.
tNti Mn.r.s—The shipments
... Ol stock show a marked
."U-caustjJ wholly on account of
, Iinancial troubles,
horse and mule market has been
mil the past week, owing to
ion in the money market,
the past week amounting
eraging from 805 to 75 for
shipping plugs, from
tor good drivers and sad-
i'.iaand for stock at the opening
«eek was good, with several
! “Tendance, but as they could
ir drafts cashed, it has de-
.tter sales are expected
with plenty of stock on
i the Fever.
J«ms«Tox, October 10,1873.
""t notice of Alfred Saville, who
Volunteer telegraph duty in
; 11 "as omitted that he was
Is, 'r^l in line of battle.
I U ' 0I!T . October 10,1873.
the,' V ■'k'-” r "Wiltstand Maple
1 Orleans, are charged
r !)|) iug ti, e
corpses. The people
’ '.'"aged. The chief victim is
. o 1 '” 1 ; from whom it is alleged
1 ' "“dug. money, a watch and a
ken is no improvement. The
*' mostly among children.
"»iu lour hundred eases under
pi " l Mansfield, forty miles
‘J-'iciaus advise absentees to
’■'■TooMKttY, October 10,1873.
^i-rethroe lever deaths in the last
it,Total since it commenced,
m, twelve.
biniKVF.i'or.T, October 10,1873.
rinents to-day — Bettie Hol-
culorcd, and Miss Saylor,
“e who visits Chilwald, Eng-
t read. m the cemetery the fol-
> epitaph;
t WruT' 1 m . y thrM daughter^,
ad'turf “ S !f s 8eidlitI watars i
‘tln'M mEpsorn Salts,
have been in these here vaults.
For the Courier.
A Song.— “Isonely Without Thee.”
BY MABITUS.
Wife, my own! my life, without thee,
Cheerless, joyless when alone;
Darling, dearest! do not doubt me—
Every pleasure then has flown !
Early love hath still its flower.
Bifling all my heart for theo ;
Passion’s roses are in flower.
Though the roses come and flee:
Darling, dearest! do not doubt me;
I am lonely hero without thee.
Though sweet friends are smiling round mo,
And this autumn-eve is bright,
Clouds of sadnesB lower o’er me,
And my heart hath cheerless night;
For thy smiles are not upon me,
And-thine eyes, like stars above,
Those that by their brightness won me,
Throw not here their boams of love.
Darling, dearest J do not doubt me;
I am lonely here without thee.
What to me the morning glowing,
Or the sunset’s radiant hues;
Or the sparkling waters flowing;
Or the landscape’s painted views?
Nature's charms, all joys combining,
Have no rival ebarrua fnr then r .
Sun, and moon, and stars though shitting,
’-•-oW of love for me :
Darling, dearest! ao not doubt me;
I am lonely here without theo.
Love for thee was never Duty—
Marriage vows I quit© forgot;
For the chain is thy sweet beauty.
And the links are golden yet:
Charms of face, and form, and graces
Of the heart, make thee my wife;
And my soul, in such embraces,
Fondly clings to thee, my life.
Darling, dearest! do not doubt me;
I am lonely hero without thee.'
What though Grief and Toil’s thin fingers
Here and there have pencilled care
On thy face ; still beauty lingers,
And thy heart hath beauty there.
And though years, and ca-e, and sorrow
Steal away life's joys from me,
Siill my heart may ever borrow
Never failing joys from thee.
Darling, dearest! do not doubt me;
I am lonely here without thee.
Oh ! how few and brief the pleasures
Of my heart at home with thee !
With our children—precic us treasures.
Love’s dear pledges—thine to mo.
There, where all our joys are blending,
In the evening-lamp’s bright glow—
There my heart is homeward tending,
And with thee those joys would know.
Darling, dearest! do not doubt me ;
I am lonely here without thee.
Cheer thee, dearest! Faith is singing
In my heart a Hope so sweet,
That the Future bright is bringing
Pleasures, when our loves shall meet;
When, no more our paths divided,
We no more shall walk apart,
But restored shall dwell united,
Hand in hand and heart in heart.
Darling, dearest! do not doubt me ;
I am lonely here without thee.
If on earth no more be given
That sweet Eden for our love,
Hope shall seek that bliss in Heaven—
In Love’s paradise above.
And though Death or Distance sever
This fond heart from thee so dear,
Cheerless in its absence ever,
This sad song shall be mine here:
Darling, dearest! do not doubt me ;
I am lonely here without thee !
IDA DELZONS.
Chat. XII—Stepping into the World.
Autumn, the golden-leafed and red-
fruited, had passed. Winter had come,
and its snows made it dreary without
and its fires cheery within: the colder
it grew without, the warmer they made
it within. One might learn a lesson
from this, were one always ready to
learn lessons of wisdom from life’s
analogies.
The Christmas gaieties had been
spent by Ida in Paris with her rela
tives. They had been peculiarly hap
py to her, for her glad nature was be
coming almost too impatient to be con
trolled much longer in the monoto
nous dullness of the convent life. These
glimpses of the gay world only made
her the more impatient to plunge into
its dazzling whirl. Kathleen had never
before seen her so restive.
“ Why, Kitty! this thing is getting
too dull for endurance. I had rather
be a Comanche 1” she said, one March
evening as they sat together around the
cheerful fire.
“Is the city so pleasant?” asked
Kathleen.
“ Yes—everywhere is pleasant hut
here. It is life I want—freedom—ac
tion 1 Oh, I would give so much for a
good old fashioned rabbit hunt down in
the wheat fields with Carlo!”
“ Oh, I thought it was for the gaieties
of society you were sighing.”
“Yes, they are pleasant, too. It is
such a proud thing to be admired, and
to be toasted as Ic Idle dcs belles.”
“And you were greatly admired,
Miss Ida? I knew you would be.”
“Oh, no; I have not yet made my
debut. It is for that I am getting impa
tient, I feel like a young bird longing
to try its wing.”
“Your happy flight is so well assured,
Miss Icla,” caressingly said Kathleen.
“And yet, Kitty, it doesn’t seem that
I will care much about the gaieties of
lc beau mondc. I would much prefer the
innocent freedom of my dear western
home.”
And then the maidens began talking
in a hushed voice of that home; Kath
leen saying that even the sight of the
old ragged hut in the swamp would be
a gladness to her.
“ I wonder if the dear old thing has
tumbled down yet?” she said; “and
my woodbine—there is nothing like
that woodbine here, Miss Ida.”
“And Bellemonte—ah! dear Belle-
monte 1 I am so glad that mama is
coming this summer, and one more
year will give my dear dear home back
to me.”
“ Oh, yes; and I, too, will then have a
home to go to too.”
“ Yes, it will be such a relief from
tliis place. But tell me, Kitty, about
your letter to-day. It was from home,
wasn’t it—from your father?”
“It was from my brother. A pleas
ant—cheerful letter; and it has almost
made me impatient of my school life.
I want so very much to see him—to
be with him.”
“ May I read it, Kitty7”
“ Yes, you may read it, Miss Ida.
have no secrets from you.”
Kathleen placed the letter in Ida’s
hand, and twining their arms around
each other’s waists, they read:
ROME: GAi; WEDNESDAY INNING, OCTOBER 22, 1873.
'
Bayou LaForche, Louisiana,
January 30,1845.
My darling sister:
In the depths or on the heights, my
heart still fondly turns to thee. _ I have
often thought what a blessed thing it is
to have such a sister to love—else who
could I go to in my joys, or to whom
could I tell the secrets of my sorrows.
Do not start, my sister: it is not a tale
of sorrow I have to tell to-day, hut
rather one of gladness.
My success has been so kind, and my
prospects arc so pleasing, that I have
nothing but gratitude to send you,
But first, my sister, I must thank ■
for your grateful letter of No vein
It was such a bright, happy letter that
it set my heart all aflutter with glad
ness. It came to me, too, at a time
when my heart was surfeited with the
delights of a giddy dissipation, and
needed the sweeter amenities of a, sis
terly affection to soothe it into a sober
content. S' -‘“■L
The package of drawings came Safe
ly, and they were a joy indeed. ‘If al
most seemed as if you had come—or
rather, if I had myself by some “ can-
trip slight” been carried bodily to
Creve-Cceur. The scenes are so natural
that I felt in an actual presence, and
peered among the rocks to find you.
You know not how I prize them! you
are an artist indeed.
I shall have to hide my daubs when
you return. I find some leisure for the
gratification of my penchant for the
pencil, but have never been able to
produce anything so artistically correct
and finished as yours.
If it were not for the idea of an in-
tolerable^protraetion of your absence,
Rome, after you complete you/
at Creve-Conr, and take a few lessons
under the masters. If your painting.: t
enthuses-you-as your pictures • delight'
me, I am sure that your, love of the.
art amounts to a passion. But I can
not afford to live much longer without
you; so I will not encourage you in
the idea of Rome.
I was so glad to hear through the
Mother Madeline of your ripe scholar
ship. She writes father that you will
graduate this summer. I am certainly
proud of my sister.
I saw Father Chalon only. a few
days ago. .He is still radiant with
goodness. He told me that Major and
Madame Delzons would go out in the
summer, and would probably spend a
year in Europe before returning. Could
we not compromise upon one year, at
Rome ? That, my sweet sister, is all
that I can spare you. I hope to have
our cottage ready before then.
And now, would the story of my
Christmas and Mardi Gras dissipation
interest you ? I will tell them to you
sort of confessional. A business
matter carried me up to South Bend,
■vyhere I was detained during the Christ
mas festivals. Tom Fletcher met me,
and invited me to-spend the season at.
Richland.
While there the Noltriebs gave a fete,
and Miss Isaura was kind enough to
include me in the list of her friends.
I had before determined to eschew so
ciety and devote all my thoughts to my
business; but the invitation was so cor
dial that it would have seemed rude
ness to reject it. Besides, Eugene was
generous enough to insist upon my
going, and as I wished to forever bury
all the old bitternesses that had ever
divided us, I went.
The affair was a brilliant one—not
large, but genial, glad hearted and free.
M’llc Isaura was radiant; and with
such a charming grace did she receive
me, that I was captivated at once. .She
is a magnificent woman—beautiful as
a Hebe—elegant, graceful and accom
plished. She sings divinely; dances
ike a fairy—in fact, my dear Doody, I
can hardly trust myself to speak of aU
her charms. You might suppose me
infatuated. She is certainly a charm
ing woman, and I—yes, to teU the
truth, I was charmed; so charmed that
upon calling upon her a few days after
to pay my parting respects, I could
not resist the graceful invitation to
make one of her party to visit the city
during Mardi Gras and attend the car
nival.
It is the excitement of this latter
gaiety that left me in the half sobered
fever your precious letter found me. It
was only this morning I returned from
Richland, and the memory of its glad
ness will live in my heart many days.
I enclose you a slip from the Picayune
giving an account of the Mystic Krewe,
which was the grand feature of the
carnival.
It was not the carnival, however,
that I enjoyed. It was the brighter
charms of the friends I was with. I
thought of my sweet sister almost every
moment, and my heart grew glad as I
thought how proud I would be if she,
too, were along.
I do not know that the excitement
has done me any good. I shall try and
let it do me no harm. It has stimula
ted me to a renewed energy. I cannot
tell why, but it seems that I am more
eager to succeed now than ever.
And this brings me back to my every
day life, and I must lay my prospects
before you. I have been very success
ful. I executed the commission of the
Governor to his perfect satisfaction, and
was paid twenty-five hundred dollars.
It was my first wages; you may imag
ine how proudly I felt of them. But
my experience was'better than the
money, for it introduced me to a splen
did business.
My dutios brought me in contact with
an excellent gentleman, a thorough
going business man, who was pleased
with my maimer of work. He proposed
a partnership with me in a contract he
was then about to take. I examined
the work and his estimate, and accepted-
his proposition. The water and:the
weather were exceedingly favorable,
and we completed the contract at a
profit of five thousand dollars apiece.
This splendid success anables us to
enlarge our operations, and we now
have a hundred thousand dollar con
tract on the bayou, by which, if the
weather is favorable, we will realize
forty-five thousand; hut if not, we will
possibly lose all that we have made.
Iam sanguine of success though, and
to-morrow I shall lay aside my coat
and roll up my sleeves for an earnest
work. I shall work, too, with a brave
heart, for the future looks so bright
I shut my eyes and think, .and bh!
it is a beautiful presence I see away
down the .vista of the coming, years;
and your loving smile, sweet, sister
throws a halo over the picture 1. And
now, my dear, dear Doody, good-bye.
- Maurice McConnell.
Ida read this letter. There was
nothing in it peculiarly touching,
neither was it brilliant, but only a sim-
plebrotherly letter—Bomewhategotistic,
to be sure, but then it was an egotism
which any sister might readily panhm.
But somehow or other, it touched the
full heart of Ida, already stirred by its
yearning thoughts of home; and when
she had finished it and repeated to her
self the passage,-“ I shut my eyes and
♦Rink and ohl. it is a beautiful pres*
ence I see away down the vmto of
coming years,” ner arm grew tighter
around .Kathleen's waist and such a
flood of feeling rushed into her eyes
that she could not choke back.
Kathleen looked up in sympathetic
wonder, when Ida threw her arms
around her neck and gave unrestrained
“ There, Kitty, it is over ‘now. You
think me silly for crying so; but I
could not help it This longing for
home—oh! I wish that I too had went
to St Mary’s with Isaura. Maybe then
she wouldn’t—oh, Kitty! Kitty! it is
too had!” and Ida had to hush again.
Kathleen could not understand her
emotion. She could only sympathize
with her distress.
“ Oh, but you have been happy too,
Miss Ida,” she whispered; “so much
gayer and happier in Paris than you
could have been in Arkansas. Think
of what a gay Christmas you spent!”
■ “Gray ? It was horrible—so dull, so
stiff, so formal, so pimy! It was noth
ing like the grand wild freedom and
gladness of our own country. Oh, Kite
ty, I want to'go home!”
And then came up again the oft re-
rcoted ip talking
lubsfded, and she became herself dglsia.
It was two months before another let
ter caine' from. Pat, and'“when it came
it brought aleaden somRtfto the gen
tle heart of Kathleen. ■ It told about
the death of her father. The grief of
the poor girl was inconsolable; for
however that father might have failed in
his drunken despondency to dischaige
his duty towards her, he had never
failed inhis love, nor she in her’s.
Itwas~now in her crushing sorrow
that Ida Delzons stooped over her with
a beautiful sympathy. All of human
consolation that human love could whis
per she tenderly whispered in her or
phaned ear. The tender pity of
Mother Madeline, too, hovered over
her orphaned head, and breathed its
most devout consolations in-her soul.
It was for a week the crushing weight
bowed her lips in the dust, and then
she thought of the solitary grief of her
brother.
“Poor Pat!” she cried, “I have you,
Miss Ida and Mother Madeline, to help
me bear my sorrow, but who is there
to help him ? I must not be so selfish in
my grief. I must think of him.”.
“ Yes, write to him, Kitty; the effort
will do you good. It is not well to in
dulge a listless grief. You must arouse
—must think, must talk, must walk;
anything, Kitty, but looking so hope
less—so utterly miserable.”
And then Ida arranged the writing
materials for her, and drew the little
table before her.
Kathleen took the pen and dipped it
the ink, and then she put her hanc
upon her heart to think. But the
thought came too dark in its sorrow for
utterance, and she dropped her head
upon the’table in an agony of sobs.
NEW SERIES-NO. 8
A THOUGHT.
i, The summer rose the eua has flashed
With crimson gfarymqybg twine' ■ .
:’Tis sweeter when the Ieares are ct ashed
Beneath the winds 1 and tempest teet.
f The rose that waves open its tree,'
In life, shads perfume *il Rrirand—
Here sweet the perihme floats to-me
Of roses trampled on the ground.
The wavering rose, with erery "breath.
Scents, carelessly, the rammer air—
„ The wounded rose bleeds forth in death
L A sweetness far more rich and rare; '
L It is a truth beyond oar ken, .
’• ■ And yet a t nth that all may read.
- . It is with roses as with men; -
• The sweetest hearts are those that bleeL
The flower which Bethlehem saw bloom
; Ont of a heart all fail ofgxace,
- - Gave never forth ita^isll perfnme *
\ Until the cress became its flapo.
> " —Father Byan.
From the New York World. .
THE DIGNITY OP LABOR.
Lecture by Rev. Newman- Hall—Working
Classes of England..
and Gentlemen:
re are some men that neeOUO
I I am sure that one of these men is
beloved friend from across - the
wafer, the friend of bur best interest,
the Rev. Newman Hall—(applause}r-r
of London, who this evening-will lect
ure upon “The dignity of labor,” and
toinorrow evening will speak upon the
“Reasonableness of prayer in reply to
modem scepticism.”
. Mr. Hall then came forward and was
greeted with applause. He said there
▼as a dignity in labor; in the toil of
the hand as well as in the toil of the
Lead, in toil to provide for the wants of
the individual as well as in toil for the
promotion of some enterprise of world
wide fame; in labor that tends to sup-,
man’s wants, that increases his
ipiness, or that elevates his nature;
fa word all labor that was honest was
honorable too. (Applause.)
Ibis was a sentiment so obvious and
ti'tei that it might appear not to need . t
ether argument or illustration, yet {^ijthusia^iadly
tleoe were some persons who, while ad- [nnce of ybur cat
fritting it in words, denied itlin
fix. There were some who would, give
pnor to toil of some kind and who yet
ipuld deny it to other kinds of labor,
d the old country there were those
phi) thought themseleves and their
friends less dishonored by doing noth-
ng and being dependent on others than
oy. engaging in occupations called
mental, but which were nevertheless
honest
The glory of the founder of a family
labor becauseii was in compliance
divinelaV^ £> .T.
1 It was God’s command;-and it aaa a
necessity of the human race, and for these
reasons should be regarded as honorable,
Man more-than -the-brute is depends!
upon labor,. He-finds.little food read
for him, and he must .work for the tool
which lie needs. All were dependent upo
labor.. The broad acres were of nousei
there was no oner to cultivatethem, and-i
there was,-no one could-dothe
tothe man of leisure, the man of leis"-
•e owed his very, existence in the man
toil “ If the arefc needs the beauti*
1 keystone to keep it erect,-the arch
id keystone would alike ml but for.
the solid piers on each aide. Yon may
~vrf- teftftfaPltBe beanty of the apex, but
—Hnuiiabase?” (Applause./ -’
The lecturer then paid an eloquent
tribute to labor in its varied uses, elic
iting frequent and hearty applause.
I Speaking, then, of the power of the low*
,cr laboring classes, the lecturer said/
“Recently m your great struggle wdio
- vere the classes that chiefly, and from
the beginning,recognized the truth, and
maintained the justice of the strngs'
for the Union, and vindicated those wl
were laboring for the cause that must
ultimately result in emancipation?”
While there were distinguished persons
who did maintain your cause, those who
had-received-a higher education did not
i ee. so.clearly as those whose hearts felt
i heir true instinct. Through our country
then was but one voice heard among the
working classes of Great Britain, and
from the length and breadth ofthe land,
from the beginning to the >end, monster
meetings were caued night by night,
when the-most earnest resolutions were
stically passed for the mainten
ance of ybur cause. (Applause.)
: How shall America say that England
was against themwhen-you say that one
teanii
in the ink, and then she put heriiand is sometimes eclipsed by the sen who bringing about the Alabama claims, and
‘ ~ ‘ - “ 1 i, m y happiness to say that all classes
‘people now, high and low, rich and
it, rejoice.
inherits, not his father’s goodness, but
his father’s gold. There are some who
would rather wear the garment than to
weave it; rather eat the com than to
“Oh^Ess Ida! T* cannot write. ThejgWit peoplewho seem
misery is too great Will you write for tOAppi)' the text that was so beautifully
ifr.and the great masses m your
11 you say that England was against
i? It was the opinion of the great
of the English people. It was
which helped to educate our legisla-
It was the people who taught Senators
, and wa3 chiefly instrumental in'
me?—only one word, Miss Ida; tell
him that my grief is stronger than my
love.” ... .
Well, Kitty, do not try to write to
day. To-morrow will do. Let us walk
now. You must do something; you
cannot sit there. Your grief will be
come sinful unless you put it aside.”
“ Help me, Miss Ida, only this once,
and then I feel that I wiR do better.
Only write one word of consolation to
my poor brother, and that will relieve
me. And oh! what a gladness it may
he to him!”
“ If you will promise to walk with
me afterwards, and to look in my face
and smile again, I will write. Oh, you
do not know how hungry my heart is
growing for your smile, Kitty!”
“ I will promise, Miss Ida.”
Ida seated herself, and taking up the
discarded pen, she wrote:
Sir,—The bitterness of your sister’s
grief is too great for expression, and
she has begged me to write for her, and
to offer you such poor consolation as
she feels in her own sorrow that you so
sorely need.
But what can I say? Much as I
sympathize with my friend in this her
sad affliction, I yet feel that hers is a
sorrow too sacred for another to touch.
Your own heart can better interpret
her anguish than any words of mine.
I can only commend her and you to
the grace of that God who loves us all.
So far as the bodily comfort goes, it
may be a relief for you to know that
our sister is in good hands. Loving
learts and loving eyes watch over her.
She was quite prostrated by the sud
denness of the terrible blow, and for
days we were alarmed for her safety;
hut thanks to the strength and fresh
ness of a youthful heart, upborne by
a sweet religious faith, she is regaining
her vigor, and will within a few days
more he quite restored. Suffer no un
easiness about her. I offer you my
sincere sympathy. AVith sincere re-
Your friend,
Ida Delzons.
“There, darling, I have written.
ShaD I read it to you?” she asked
after she had finished.
“No,-Miss Ida, I am satisfied with
what you do. I know it is much better
than anything I could have said. Here,
seal it, and direct it, and let it go to the
post this .evening. Ifeel better already
for its having been -written.”
“Do you? Then get our bonnets
and let us walk in the garden. The
walk will do you good, too, and then I
will claim my reward.”
Kathleen smiled—a sad sweet smile,
hut it was the smile that Ida’s heart
had been hungering for, and she kissed
her for it.
The walk did her good, and Ida’s
tender sympathy and cheerful talk;
and after another week the great shock
began to wear off, and her young glad
ness came bock to her. And when
June came, only the subdued sweetness
of her laughter told that a great be
reavement had ever been hers.
(3b. be continued.)
to the vegetable kingdom to the
human family: “Consider the lilies
oBEfte- field, how beantiful they grow;
iMytolTnOt, neithci dtrthuj-ppigj*
There were those who not only were
disposed to honor some who did notic
ing more than those who had been very
useful, and the wielder of the sword
has been regarded as more honorable
than the wielder of the spade. This
wa3 wrong; it tended to discourage the
production of those things desirable to
ouj wants, and to cause discontent in
the great mass of people whose toil was
so 3ssential to the very stability of the
commonwealth.
Therefore, not in any spirit of deprecia-
tioi of social rank, but in opposition to
the sentiment which would treat with in
dignity and contempt any employment,
hovever humble, he would endeavor to
uplold the true dignity of labor. Labor
waj the great hannonizer of the universe;
it vas the great law of humanity; the very
stricture of the body showed tins.
Take the structure of the foot, and at a
glaace it could be seen it was made for mo-
tioa • and as with the foot so with the ear,
the eye, the hand—each was adapted for
its particular use, and all were for active
us« and not for idleness. The vigor of
the faculties depended upon their exer
cise. They could not breathe the atmos
phere of sloth, and power would not de
velop itself, except in the gymnasium of
toil.
The limb is powerless that is not
and as with the bodily powers, so wii
intellectual and moral—all must he used,
and used constantly, or they become use
Scss. Conscience would refuse to speak
when men refused to listen, and would
cease to command when men ceased to
obey.
Men could not at the same time he idle
and be happy, and what we toil for has a
charm which nothing else can give, the
flower we cultivate and the fruit we grow
has a richer flavor than any that money
can purchase. Activity, is the law of the
deity, and of- course it must he the law of
mortality.
We speak of the activity of natur
but it was the activity of the God. _ T
nature that was thus evidenced,-and
when the Deity became incarnate he
said: “ My father worketh continual
ly, and I also work.” There was &
work of the mind, as well as a work of
the muscle; there was a labor of the
brain as well as of the hands.
This great country would still he a
region of rude barbarism if the brain
had not been at work as well as the
body. Sometimes one single thong
like that which led-to the structure r
the steam engine has done'more'than
if the thinker of that thought had la
bored with his hands for ten thousand
years. .
Then there were other kin dsof labor,, JjFjjSfMjfr
A good many of the leading journals
are advocating the withdrawal of the
$54,000,000 of fractional currency and
substituting silver for it. This would
look to he a feasible .undertaking. Sil
ver is a drug in-Europe; Western mines
findit difficult to sell their products;
silver coin is practically at par in New
York now. If the fractional notes
were withdrawn, and replaced with
coin, the simple necessity for a fraction
al medium of trade would keep the
coin in circulation.
In this connection we Isom that or-
ders have been issued for a largo in-
gwise in the minting^f wlver, both in
■ ;
5 1 Galveston htus raised the quarantine
against New’Orlehna, 3 sv?!
possessing dignity in an.eininent de
gree; the labor of the merchant of the
capitalist, of the physician, of thelawr
yer, of the warrior,.the instructor’'of
the rising generation; or -of the-’moire
adult race; the historian, the philos-
ler, the man of science, the paanter,
: poet, the sculptor, the
moral and social reformer, the p_l
thropist, the magistrate, the legii
and statesman, and-noteleast the-
ister of religion, arid .'alL these were la
borers in the highest degree.
Most eminently were the^toberedr^
astrous woufd be the day when the claims
of such workingmen shouldbe disallowed,
LAirolause.) They were worthy of honor,
was a common stock of comforts, of
Mr. Jefferson’s affairs did not mend,
i able and resolute
'fis_grandson and-name^
heresolved, at length, to discharge the
Voist of his debts, in the fashion of
ild Virginia, by selling a portion of
Fiifl lunifa.
Bnt there was nobody to buy. Land
aid in the usual way would not bring
third of its value; and consequently
e petitioned the Legislature to relax
lie operation of the law so far as toal-
3w nim to dispose of some, of his
_nms by lottery, as was frequently
done when money was to be raised for
a public object. The legislature granted
his request, though with reluctance.
But, in the meantime, it had been
_iisea abroad, thronghont the whole of
the Union, that the author of the Declar
ation of Independence, was about to
lose that far lamed Monticello, with
which his name bad been assodated in
the public mind foe two generations, the
abode of his prime and the refuge of his
old age, a Mecca to the republicans of
many lands. "
, A feeling arose in all liberal minds
that this must not be; and, during the
eipring of 1826, the last of his years,
subscriptions were made for his relief
in several places. Philip Hone, mayor
of New York, raised without an effort,
sis Mr. Randall records, $8500; Phila
delphia sent $5000; and Baltimore
$3000. r
The lottery was suspended, and Mr,
Jefferson’s last days were solaced by the
belief that the subscriptions would £
flee to free his estate from debt, and se
cure home and independence to his
daughter and her children.
j was proud of the liberality of _his
countrymen, and proud to be its object.
He who had refused to accept so much
as a loan from the legislature of his
State, ffidrified in being the recipient of
gifts from individuals,
i “ No cent of this,” said he, “ is wrung
from the tax paver. It is the pure and
unsolicited offering of love.”—Mr. Par-
ton in the-Atlantic.
4'—* —
The Western DeiMcney on Specie P»J-
. Senator Thutman, of Ohio,‘who may
ierhapebe regarded as the representative
ff the Western Democracy, made the
immoiel .situation the. chief topic of has
peech at Kenton, in that State, last Tues-
toy. He reviewed the causes which in
duced the panic, and then described the
flWiiuiifrsfcwdis* pfopooadtherefer.
Hie (BrHei titecaraby iiita ereditor
York, Pennsylvania, and
and debtor States.—the
cm.. -, The effect of the
payment, in his
ijandwuold haveamost
, the debtor States. On
which all could pagUMt-gRA tifr*
a communism which all could commend;
hut those who do not work shold not be al
lowed to eat. (Applnse.)
This was the Apostle Paul’s commun-
iamt he exhorts. men To' quietness and:
work, and to eat their own bread. - Hav
ing thus spoken of the higher walks of
labor, the lecturer next proceeded to speak
. .... that the business of
e country can ever be carried on with
■ irredeemable .paper currency. I be-
L that to do so would result in the de-1
■ion of the best interests of this coun-
But I do now say te you that in my
rent it would bo most unwise for the
i States to yield to this clamor of the
Uuiite undertake in the forth-
which meets next DeJ
mymCTtuponTnehoimfry without delay!
CotteresB next December,
. if God 8110188"^ iTfrj'-defriiinina-'thal
while I will advocatoaresnmption of ■
cie payment as soon as it can reason^B
be effected. I will not crush the debtor
■nss for the benefit of those.who aronowi
eir-creditors, and who are already ini
py, and most of them in affluent, circum-
■HOMCAjUt ©her: .to ovrajM
by quotations from the Bible the fact that
There
iB a reported defalcation of
*j.l,wumthe Recounts.of the New.Or
leans Workingmen’s Accommodation
| I -. Bank; an3‘_ffle paying teller has . been
ofthe labor of the hand, and illustrated arrested to-answef'forij^hhthe.tqidbis
1 lh« Drul n ill A 4
friends IwylM) Uflhjp*
Evauselical Alliance.
New York, October 9,1873.
i The afternoon session of the Evange
lical Alliance at Association Hall was
devoted to free discussion on the rela
tion of church and State.
In the Evangelical Alliance to-day a
iper was read on the church and the
iiSf by Kev. W. H. Frccmanlce, of
"’bm, in which he favored the prin-
that in Chistian nations the church
id the state are identical, and there
be no .alliance between them, for
are toot independent powers; and
Teved that in future, the pulpit will
more of civil government and
w, and legislatures will feel more the
influence of religion; thejudgesandthe
gistrates are true elders of this day,
tin the scripture the authority of
ruleris more insisted upon than that
6f the teacher, as it came from God.
tiler paper on the influence of
istianity on civil aqd religions lib-
srte .was presented.
GKev. J. L. McCurry, LL. D. of Rich
mond, Va., followed on the same sub-
iaM JJp said. “Has not every i
molestation? Liberty is not unret
ed, because it imposes laws and obliga
tions as well as guarantees privileges.
The right of freedom of worship is
sacred. When church and state are
rnited, the state practically assumes
: nfallibility; abrogates the right to say
what shaU be the church and not un-
frequently uses civil officers to enforce
religious discipline. Religious liberty
Was not’ considered by the framers of
our cotostitution as anything but a
right (Applause.)
“Religious liberty with us is no
longer an experiment but an established
fact, meeting the hearty approval of
every religious denomination and polit
ical party throughout our broad land.
(Loud applause.) The union of church
and state is wrong principle, injuri
ous in practical operation. (Applause.)
The establishment of a union would be
an injury to the state, and the church
when thus united offers a premium
upon hypocracy, for men wiR affect re
ligion in order to become sheriff, magis
trate, or again some civil office. Under
such union a man’s rights to worship
God is not God-given, but a political
grace.- (Laughter.)
; “A union is wrong to citizens gener
ally. It robs them of their property;
for when a government takes from the
people more than enough for its legiti
mate affairs, it commits robbery. (Ap-
ilause.) It is wrong to our holy re-
igion, because it makes Christianity
depend upon civil power. It disowns
the Holy Spirit, and seeks other enjoy
ments of peace.”
Mr. Curry had reached a very inter-
ng-partofhis discourse, when the
bell called him to order. The audience
called loudly for his continuance. •
Mr, Crook arose and stated that, as
many invited guests from abroad, en-
tertaming entirely different views, urere
courteous and unchristianlike to con
tinue the discussion. The speaker’s
voice was drowned in cries for “ Curry,
Curry!
In response to which Mr. Curry arose
and said that as he abided by the rule
limitation most readily, yet he
would most emphatically protest
against being termed by the chairman
as discourteous and unchristianlike.
An uproar here ensued, and terrific,
nil pttps “fhTrrv. Cnrrv!” accomna-
“featij®
of the ChicngB^..
serrations‘on this head that:
able, and trueasreadabTe.0
prime virtues—in fact fiis si _
is his correct appreciation i
“ who represents nothing but a luge num
ber of presents.” He says:
It will not be correct, ei“
the failure bF Jay Cooke' <
in the first place, brought on tii
The proportions of : the House made ! the
loudest. rBporL.wben.jt.fe.il, bnt-tha.firgt.
break was made by the Brooklyn Trust
Company, and the New York, Midland
& Oswegtf Railroad. It began, indeed,
with the repudiation of interest hy Ben
Holliday and sevefol other American
railroads, with the depleted condition of
the Southern States, and with Credit
Mobilier. at MaM rllni ntie met
Talk of confidence among common i
people; when Colfax, H. Wilson, Dawjs,
Patterson, Conkling, Brooks, etc., are^
seen to have been the recipients of.'Union;'
and Central Pacific Railroad, favors or-
fees! Talk of confidence when the freak)
ident’s whole magisterial career haS/bqejLj
that of a man more indignant at his parr
tisans for their virtues than for their-.
(rimes! -
Confidence, forsooth, when Biughatfi :
is sent to Japan and Newman to Polyr:
nesia, and when the-*priSETis put to its
trum ps to savethe Methodist Book Con
cern from such defalcation as Carlton’s!
Confidence ceases when the farmer and f
mechanic is convinced that almost,
everybody to whom he delegates hff.
money and suffrage is feathering that'
Higher nest ^ ~ ^ ~~Z~
And back pay made the' millions but
ton their pockets. The -failure’ of Jay _
Cooke was the failure-of the'
E arty’s policy; for that party is not
AnjiKU/um nprlv finfl.will Jlfltjbfi
Cooke was a more potent name in the
Union than Grant; he represented tlie
wages which made so many laboring
men vote the bankers' ticket last year.
Grant represents nothing but a large
number of presents, and a great deal of
loose apprehension.
In this country, security in anyPreri-
dential term begins at the top. Having
elected a President, the people suspend
vigilance, and trust to their chief magis
trate. If he makes an example of every
low fellow in hiscivil list, every defaulter,
every bad example in morals, and raiaes
to example every bold and prudent ex
emplar, the heads below him tremble.
But the President whom the bond sell
ing world re-elected is deficient both in
pride and example. We never had one
who began with so little, and slid so far
back. Possession increases the density
of his ignorance, as a barnacle grows
more stony by long clinging.
Until our people arouse and make
this Skelfisk feel by their displeasure—he
who conquered by attrition and was pro
longed by insensibility—there is' no real
political life in America. Lc Roi s’amuse.
nied by the stamping of feet, etc.
In the din the voice of the chairman
stuggledtobeheard. Finally compara
tive order was restored, and Mr. Crooks
persuaded the vast audience to be more
considerate. He, Crooks, had been in
formed by many visiting friends that
the discussion was very painful to them,
and he, Crook, doubted not that he
agreed with Mr. Curry in his views
upon the topic, but respect for the
views of our friends advises us to cease
discussion. A hymn was then sung.
Rev. Mr. Bruno, of Pittsburg, said he
was surprised that such an aggregate of
thought should be expressed without
striking against the thoughts of others;
he said the Constitution of the United
States was adopted for all sects and
creeds, even the Mahomedan. There
fore, he blushed forit,ashe believed in a
close unity of the church with the state.
Rev. Mr. Stevenson, of Philadelphia,
followed, and said many European na
tions are trying to work up to our
American model, and if this be true, it
concerns us what that model shaU be.
He said that our Government was strict
ly a religious government; our law of
marriage was a Christian law; blasphe
my is an offense against statute law;
Christian religion is a part of common
law; religious worship is recognized
by it; .our legislature and national sen
ate are opened by prayer. Public fasts
and thanksgiving are established by
the government The Christian faith is
administered in civil courts, and by it
our civil, officers qualified. Our sys
tem of education is purely a Christian
one. We have Bibles in our schools,
except in a few places, where bjgptry
has caused their expulsion. ' *
Rev. Geo. M. Grant, of Scotland, fol
lowed, after which the Dean of Canter
bury expressed the idea that what was
-*—"-able in this country is not so in
id. Rev. Mr. Barnett, of Ireland,
tiie Rt Rev. Bishop Simpson then
spoke. The latter said that the alli
ance had not assembled to make a con
stitution for the United States or a
church for England.
A special dispatch from Washington
to an evening journal announces that
the administration is having letters
written to Alcorn and Ames, in Mis
sissippi, to induce them if possible^to
inblican
Gliie ruptdrein that party in Missis
sippi is now so completed one would
think, that not even the proffered
— - administration can cure
St But thedispatch significantly adds
'that the administration is desirous of
ling the factions “without Fed-
oral interference.” . .
I It has then come to this complexion,
hat iii no Southern State can the in-
erestoof the Republican party, or rather
£ the administration branch of it, he
perilled without danger of a resort to
' lent Grant’s easy method ofletti
States have peace, to-wit: • Fedi
ierence!”—N. Y. World.
i “Mike, why don’t you fire at those
r-rAm’t ‘ '
Washington (Wilkes county) Gazette. r
Young Lady Burned to Death on the
Public Square.
On last Wednesday this community
was shocked by the most appalling and.
distressing accident that has ever oc
curred in this section. Miss Busan
Golucke, daughter of Mr. Edmund
Golucke, a beautiful and most estima
ble young lady, was burned- most
frightfully and fatally on the public
square. The facts are as follows:
.On Wednesday, about noon,' Miss
Susan went into the kitchen on her -
father’s, premises .at the northwest cor
ner of the. square,.for the purpose of
preparing a cough syrup for one of the
printers in the Gasette office, who boardb
with her back to the stove her dress
caught fire, and when her attention
was called to the fact, she rushed out
of the building, through .the yard and
into the square, screaming in agony
and terror, while the flames rushed
up over head and volumes of smoke
rolled up into the air above.
The sight was fearful, and those who
saw it can never forget the agonizing
picture of the poor girl standing ont
in distinct outline on a groundwork of
flame, as she rushed wildly and fran
tically through the crowd which rapid
ly flew to her relief
There were a considerable number
of persons near at hand when she en
tered the square, and every effort was
made to save her. Mfen ran to her,
some taking off coats, striving to smoth
er the flames, others attempting to tear
her burning .clothes from her body.
But crazed by the pain and the terror,
she tore on through the crowd, till she
was finally caught and thrown on the
sidewalk some fifty yards from her
father’s house, and the flames smoth
ered by the coats of those around and
by a bucket of water thrown over her
by some one in the crowd.
Her clothing by this time was burned
almost completely off She was taken
up in a most pitiable condition, burned
from head to foot, and carried to her
home amidst the wails of her afflicted
friends. .' ■
After the flames were extinguished,
she became perfectly self-possessed,
and seemed more calm and collected
than anyone else. All was done, for
her that friends could do. The best
medical men in the town did all in
their power to save her, but knew from
the first that her case was hopeless.
1 She was informed of hef condition
on Wednesday evening and told that
death was inevitable. She bore the
announcement with a fearless fortitude
dom witnessed. Rev. W. S. Bean,
of the Presbyterian church in
dace, was summoned to . her
e, and administered ; consolation
tp her in her hist moments,. She spoke
calmly of death, and stated that she
was not afraid to die..
She lingered till five o’clock yester
day, Thursday morning, and passed
away quietly and without pain..
; She was the only daughter of her par
ents. Her sudden and awful death
has cast a gloom over our whole oom-
innity, and everyone /eels tbe deepest
„/mpathy for her afflicted- parents and-
friends in this, their hour of deepest
- •
i Postmaster GenemJ CtoSifeH, in his
forthcoming annual report, will renew
Ids recommendation of two years ago. •
ings hanks throughout tne country in-
connection with the postaffices, to re
ceive deposits, and pay four per cent
interest on them. •
j He proposes to establish a central
bureau at Washington-, to which all
moneys deposited in the several banks
should be sent, to be invested in Gov
ernment securities. It is proposed to
keep these separate and distinct from
the money order system. '
| Mr. Creswell believes that the estab-
i shm ent of these banks in this ootntry
.till be attended with equal success to
those now in operation throughout
te Britain, where, according totbe
report of the British Postoffice
' hent, more than eighty million <■<
is held for depositors, npoh
which only two per cent interest is
ducks, hoy-
yon see yon havegot
ore your gun?”
“I know I have; but when I get a
good aim' at one, two or three will swim
right up hetween it and me. ”
The editor of a Kentucky paper, was
» wn into a.pond by a prizes fighter, -
is said; to have swMlowed- aopne^
water for the first time since his boy
hood.