Newspaper Page Text
Legal Advertisement#
Will be inserted at the following rates:
Sheriff sales, per equate |3 60
Sheriff’s mortgage tales * 5 00
Application for letters of, admistration 5 CO
Application for lettois of guardianship 5 00
Demission from administration 5 00
Dismission from guardianship 5 00
For leave to sell land 4 00
Application for homestead 4 00
Notice to debtors and creditors 4 00
Sale of real estate by administrators,
exeoutors and guardians, per square 3 50
Sale of perishable property, ten days... 2 00
Eatray notice, thirty days 2 00
Announcement.—All bills for advertis
ing in this paper are due on the first appear
ance cf the advertisement, when tho money
is needed.
THE BUTLER HERALD.
Ja*a«“mWl“ le t there be light.” Subscription, $1.50 in Advance.
VOLUME III.BUTLER, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1879. • NUMBER 146.
Poetic Selections.
HOME.
Home will be just what wo mako It,
Clothed in torrow or In joy;
love, If pure-no power can break It,
Nor 1U peaceful life annoy.
Datkneea always gathers strongest
Where love’s power la little known,
There ita shadow dwell* the long'st,
Acs tyrant on a throne,
in the garret or the paiece,
Home la home, where'er It bo,
oto ahould rule It free from mallco,
spreading peace and harmony.
Plr Man t woriia at home returning, *
Bring kind answers back again,
Each from each be over bearing—
Love ia Us bilgbt golden chain.
Oh I how grand, arrayed In beauty.
When love'a piwer guides all at homo,
As n sentinel on duty,
It remains—whate'er may come.
Loving heart* are ever rosdy
To Hdd pleasures every day,
By their life power, tirm and steady,
Ble.slng all within their way.
May love’a sun be c v« r sbinlnp,
lu each home o’er all the land,
By Ua mystic graco entwining
Heart to heart and hand to hand.
Flowing onward as a river,
In its silent majesty.
Uod’e tru: presence to deliver
Hearts and homes from mleery.
Stories and Sketches.
“.OLD FORREST.”
Tire Kiwi Ip »r Tltlimlnco Creek. “You
€ u-B’l Whip 014 Forrest.”
TV© copy the following: from a speech
of Gen, Chalmers, be .'ore the Southern
Historical Society, on the splended mili
tary career of Gen. Forrest.
Forrest reached Tupelo, Mississippi,
on the 6th of May, 1864, and was busily
engaged in reorganizing his command,
now considerably increased by recruits
and the addition of Gen. Gholaon’s brig-
gade.
Oa the 26th, by order of Gen. S. D.
Lee, department commander, Chalm-
er’s witli McCulloch’s and Neely’s bri
gades wore ordered to Monte Vallo, Ala
bama, to protect the iron-works of that
region. On the 31st Forrest started
with ILiford’s division to Tuscumbia to
assist It xldy in meeting a movement in
that quarter, aud had reached Russell
ville, Alabama when he received infer*
mation that Sturgis, with eight thousand
infantry, five thousand cavalry and six
batteries was moving from Memphis in
to Mississippi, parallel with the Mem
phis and Charleston railroad. Forrest
began at once to concentrate his scatter
ed command.
Rucker, from Oxford, with three smal
regiments, wan thrown acresj the Talla
hatchie at New Albany, and commenced
to ret» rd the enemy’s advance. This
little Lnghue, under Rucker, who was
second only to Forrest as a fearless fight
er-composed of three regiments, under
three dashing young Colonels, Duff, Bill
Taylor aud Alexander Chalmers—was
highly complimented by Forrest for his
gallantry in performing his duty. On
the 9th Forrest took position with two
brigades of Buford’s division, John
son’s brigado of Roddy’s division, and
Rucker's briggade of Ohalmer’s divission,
cast of the Hatchie, near Rienzi, to dis
pute the postage of Sturgis, over that
river, supposing he was moving to re-
cnfoice Sherman in Georgia. The scouts
now reported Sturgis moving south to*
ward Forrest’s camp at Tupelo. OhaP
mors, with two brigades, was then at
Monte Vallo, Alabama; Roddy, with
one briggade, near Tuscumbia; Ghol-
son, with one briggade, near Jackson,
Mississippi. Gen. S. D. Lee, now in
command, determined to fall back to
ward Okalona until he could concen
trate bis forces, and left that night by
rail, after ordering Forrest to get in
front o' Sturgis and retard his advance
Forrest moved beforo day to take posil
tion at Bryce’s cross-roads, on a dividing
ridge where the waters of the Hatchie
rire and run north and of the Tallahat*
cliio rise and run south, and wlen in
four miles of.tbat place he learned that
the enemy had already occupied^ and
were now between him and his head
quarters at Tupelo.
He had with him thero his three
smallest brigades, the effective strength
of which at that time he reported as fol
lows : Lyons’, eight hundred; Rucker’s,
seven hundred, and Johnson’s, five hun
dred; while Buford, with Bell’s brigade,
nbjutfifiecn hundrod strong, and two
batteries of artillery, were some distance
in the rear. Ordering them to move in
stantly up, which they did, coming
eight miles in a gallop, he moved for
ward with the men he had aud opened
the fight, and at the same time ordered
Bufoid to send one regiment across the
c)untiy to attsck the enemy in the rear.
The battle reged fiercely for some hours,
with doubtful success, and eight hun
dred federa’s and six hundred and forty
lonfederaies fell dead and wounded
around Bryce’s houfie. One peculiarity
of Forest’s fighting was hU almost reck
less use ol artillery, and on this occasion
lie had eight pieces of artillery that were
Boldly handled by Oaptsin Martin, a
beardless youth, with the face of a wo
man and the courage of a lion. Tho fed*
orals made several splendid charges, that
were repu’si at short range by the
artillery, double-shotted with cannister.
The con-ederatcs insist that both the
federal infantry and cavalry were in
this fight. The federal cavalry officers
who censured Sturgis say they had cavs
airy alone, and that instead of falling
back with his cavalry on to his infantry,
prepared in line, he undertook to hold the
position with his cavalry and bring up
his infantry five or more miles at doub’e-
quick, and that they arrived broken
down and unformed just as the cavalry
were driven back on them, and all went
pell mell together. Be this as it may,
when Forrest captured Bryce’s house,
theenemy’s infantry in column were in
/ull view coming np. He turned loose
on them his own eight pieces of artillery
and six more just captured, and about
that time Bartian’s regiment struck
them in the rear, and the flight com**
menced.
A more terrific pursuit was never seen.
The negroes had Inen sworn on their
knees in line before starting from Mem-
phi# to show no quarter to Forrest’s men,
and on their shirts and banners was in
scribed, “Remember Fort Pillow.” This
had a double effect; it made the fed
eral afraid to surrender, and infuriated
Forrest’s men; and it is said that nine
teen hundred were killed In this pursuit,
which was continued sixty miles. The
exact truth as to this flight will, per
haps, never be known; but taking either
the federal or confederate accounts of
it, it was tho most brilliant victory of
the war on either side. Forrest reports
his force at thirty-two hundred cavalry
and eight pieces of artiiiery. The fed
eral report places Sturgis’ force at thirty-
three hundred cavalry, fi fly-four hun
dred infantry and seventeen pieces of
artilery. With a superior force of cav
alry, he might well have expected to
hold, with them alone, his position, well
selected at Bryca’s cross-roads, until his
infantry could come up. Sturgis was
as much astonished at his defeat as any
one, and was so terribly mortified that
when A. J. Smith moved out after For
est, a confidential spy from Memphis
reported that Sturgis was sitting in a
hotel soliloquizing, “It can’t be done,
sir I’* and when asked what could not ho
done he said, “They c-a-n-’t whip old
Forrest 1”
In this battle two thousand prisoners
were taken, all the artillery (seventeen
pieces), the w hole ordnance train, well
supplied with ammunition aud many
articles of value to us ; the ambulance
and wagon train, filled with most accep
table supplies, especially coffee, which
the hungry Confederates had not tasted
for many days.
Gen. Sherman, in a cipher dispatch,
dated June 20, 1864, says: “He whipped
Sturgis fair and square, and now I will
put him against A. J. Smith and Mowor,
and let them try their hand.” By this
victory Forrest not only saved Colum
bus and the rich prairie of MissDsipp
again, but he saved Mobile also by the
withdrawals A. J. Smith’s division,
which had been ordered to its attack.
Rosmer says: “From that great day
when in person Alexander led the Mace
donian horse, he ranks the first of cavalry
general of all times, and the tactics there
displayed were in every respect the same
which now receive the sanction of mod*
era science—sudden deployment and bold
attack, outflanking the enemy’tfKrings,
dividing the enemy’s forces, rallying,
attacking the rear, supporting the men
aced point, and to crown all, a pursuit
of six hundred Btadia (eevtntv-fivo miles)
in twenty-four hours. Never was there
a greater achievement in ancient or
modern warfare.”
When a new edition of Roemcr’s work
on cavalry is written it is to be hopel
that tho battle of “Tishomingo Creek,”
or “Bryce’s cross-roads,” as the federals
call it, will not be forgotten, where the
battle was fought and a pursuit of sixty
miles made all in thirty hours.
It has been said that Forrest was uu-
educated,and this is true; but his ideas,
when properly clothed in correct lan
guage, were pointed and strong, and he
was exceedingly tenacious that his own
ideas, and not tho3eof the writer, should
he expressed by those who wrote for him.
His strong aud touching final address to
his troops, though shaped by another,
was his own croation, and he felt nil that
the language imported whon he said:
“Civil war, such ns you have just passed
through, naturally engenders feelings of
animosity, hatred and revenge. It is
our duty to divest ourselves of ail such
feelings, and as far as in our power to do
so, to cultivate friendly feelings toward
thoso with whom wo have so long con-»
tended and horetofore so widely differed*
Neighborhood feuds, personal animosi
ties and private differences should be
blotted out, aud when you return home
a manly straightforward course of con
duct will secure the respect of even your
enemies. Whatever your respontibili-
tieB may be to government, to society, or
to individuals, meet them 1 ke men. * * *
I have never on the field of bittle sent
you where I was unwilling to go myself,
nor would I now advise you to a course
which I felt myself unwilling to pursuo.
You hare been good soldiers; you can
be good citizens. Obey the laws, pre
serve your honor, and the government
to which you have surrendered can af
ford to be and will be magnanimous.” I
Like the cause he loved, he is dead. In
coming years, when the bitterness of
strife has passed away; when that mys
tic harp, whose chords connect the
graves of the dead with the hearts of the
living, shall vibrate the music of a re
stored union, and some blind old bard
shall sing tho praises of American heroes
while eager children listen to their deeds
of valor, the story of none will awaken
loftier feelings of emulation than—
Forrest, tho wizard oi the saddle.
Tlio Imperial Love Affair.
The Paris correspondent of the New
York Tribune makes the following state
ment in regard to the much-talked-of
love affair between the late Prince Im
perial and the Princess Beatrice: “ The
Kingdom of England has outgrown its
royal swaddling clothes. It must hence
forth wear the ample purple mantle of
imperialism. The queen had long felt
this necessity, and so had Lord Beacons-
field. Hence Her Majesty’s confidence
in ^him, and the sympathy of both for
Bonapartism, which had beon distorted
by the liberal and radical parties and
their newspaper orgaus. In short, Leuis
Napoleon was regaided as the John the
Baptist of a system which is esming
into exlstencs".in England. Hence the
sympathy of the C3urt, the government,
and a large portion of the aristocracy
with his widow. The Prince of Wales
was the head of the English Bonaparts
ists, and had looked forward to tho re
storation of the Napoleonic throne and
its consolidation |by a matrimonial alli
ance between the late ill-fated
starred pretender and the Princess
Beatrice, who is said to be almost
broken-hearted at his tragical end. She
and Prince Louis Napoleon, it was
reported to the French government
often met at Marlborough h.ouse, and
were partners in dances. The princess,
leading a monotonous aud secluded life,
was easily impressed by the attentions
of the young imperial exile. A romantic
affection sprung up between them.
Beatrice refused to marry any one else,
and the Prince of Wales, whose French
friends are mostly Bonapartists, took his
sister’s part when she was blamed for her
unfortunate preference. The queen was
brought round to accept the French
prince as a son-in-law if the consent of
the parliamentary majority to the match
could be assured. Hence the efforts
made by “certain daily and society”
journals to place the suitor in a favor*
able light and to represent the republic
as being on its last legs, and the deter
mination of the young man himself to
defend English civilization against
African barbarians at the Gape, Im-
S erialiam proposed; halting NemeBcs
isposed.
A Ravishing Bathing Suit.
Newport Oor. Huston Adrertisrr.
But let us go back to our omnibus and
to the beach, and see how lovely Amer
ica has at last conquered oven the proly
lem cf the bathing suit. Here as we
sit, we can see one, two, three fair crea
tures, no longer disguised and disfigured
by slouchy tunica and baggy trousers
and streaky color#, but positively
adorned, iliereisa white suit fitting
ike a charm, with its short shoulders,
its gored skirt, its elbow sleeves, its frills
at the neck and at the knees, where the
trowsers ceases, ail trimmed with tor**
chon laco and light blue cambric of
Chamberry bands that even salt water
cannot streak or change. And then the
striped, the clocked orsffidhued stock
ings that may “go” with this seductive
suit and the hat that crowns all—no
monstrosity of half worn dinginess, but
a trim, stiff-rimmed white straw, banded
an! bowed with the blue csmbric. Even
the bathing shoes of white canvas are
rosetted with blue, the whole offering a
charming contrast to the. old scarecrow
styles. And how does this blue and
white splender come out of Neptune’s
wet arms? Not badly. The contrast
of color is still there, and there is no
long skirt, no baggy trousers to flap and
cling. The young lady who sits for this
picture of white and blue now under
your eye was a very pretty mermaid as
she emerged from the wavos, the stiff
hat glistening in the sun and the torchon
lace shedding tho water like a strainer
Alternately with the blue and white are
pink and red, the light colors carrying
the day over tho navy blue and dark
shades of the old style.
. .Sdventecn men sat in front of the
hotel. Another came out from the din
ing-room and took his seat among them.
Seventeen faces lit up as if the long
looked-for had come at last. Seventeen
pair# of eyes were fix^d on the new arri
val; seventeen pairs of lips open?d to
speak to him. But be was too quick
tor them. “Yes, gentlemen, it ia hot
enough forme,” he observed, placidly
emphatic. Seventeen pairs of lips were
suddenly closed, and sevonteeu faces
grew blank with a “light that never was
on land or sea,” aB if seventeen American
citizens had suddenly had all their con
stitutional and hereditary rights swept
away atone swift blast.
..The Rochester Sunday Herald
wants to know which end the bees bite
with. They remind us of the wicked,
their la^i end, according to common
report, being worne than their first.
PANSIES.
A little space within my garden is
A mass ol purple bloom, with here nud there
Splash** ol gold among the lea res. Than this
There is no other spot more sweet or lair,
Where to the mos -grown fence the Irlea ding
And wind their t2n-iills round in dorlous ways,
These pansies away In erery breeze, and awing
Alike through silent summer nights and summu
The faint, low murmur of the white-fringed wares
Fall on my ear, aa in the starless dusk
I etand bsslde the roya’, gold-crowned budr,
Filling the air with scant aa sweet aa musk,
The trumpet-flower and ambe- columbine
Pour out the perfume of their hearts in rain,
For naught tho start y trails of jessamine
Twine lound my feet—their duspings I disdain.
The reddest rose flings out its thorny learea
To hold me back, and LIuo forgtt me-nota
Look up beseeching y. But no, heart’s-ease
Thou art the goal and harbor ot my thoughts.
Thy spell, heart’s-care, hath hodged me close about,
And I recall what I wou’d fain forgot. * « *
Ob, that the light of years hath flickered out
To leare the athes of most rain regret I
I dream of radiant days whose sun la set
To rite no more. Of ships that sailed away
O’er at! anger seas than these, at last
To weigh their anchors In some nameless bay.
I dream of flocks ol snowy breasted turds,
With one black-piuinjd, in all unlike the rest,
I raise my arm*, but on the white train mores
Untought, the sable wings fold in my broiat.
I dream of dreary wayridta briar-grown,
Where, far unteckoned tlmo, with eyoa bent down
I searched in hea> t-despairing that which lay
6o near at hand, if I had only known.
Thoujhta sad beyond the power of words come with
A resurrection of dead meuoiiea. * * *
Thank OoJ, hcart’e-easa has tilled the apace
Beyond all past aad future myeteries.
Religious Reading.
The Faith that Mom Mounts Ins.
The difference between faith and credu
lity is, that faith believes evidence, and
credulity believes where there is no
evidence at all. tOur Christian faith
rests r on overwhelming evidenc?. The
great facts of Jesus’ life a:e fully estab
lished. No one for centuries has thought
of diBduting them—or denying that he
healed the sick, raised the dead,caBt out
devils, restored sight; and the charge
made by his contemporaries was not that
he did not do these things, but that he
did them by the help of Satan. More
convincing evidence is given of the
great love of God for us, especially as
displayed in the incarnation, suffering,
and death of tho Lord Jesus, than of
any other fact in the history of the
world. We accept this evidence, and
our intellectual faith leads our heart-
faith, our personal experience, where we
know of the doctrine become wo with to
do the will of God. This is the faith
which ChriBt wishes to see strengthened
in his people. When his disciples could
not expel the demon from the boy
brought to them, they asked him, “Why
could not we cast them out?” and he
replied that their faith was ia fault*
He had given them permission, and au
thority, and power to do the work, but
their unbelief weakened their hands, and
prevented them from accomplishing any
thing. “This kind,” he added, “goeth not
out but by lasting and prayer.” Many
have stumbled over these words, and yet
their meaning is plain. Prayer, as a mere
abstinence from 'ood, is nothing. Each
thus regarded, has to do with the exter
nal life only. Real prayer is every
thing that brings us nearer to God, is
every thing that brings us into closer
communion with our Redeemer; and
fasting is every thing that keeps us away
from the sensuous world. Now, when a
Christian’s life is marked by these fea
tures, which are the complements of
each other—when he lives clcse to God
and far from the world, then his faith is
strong, and he works miracles daily, and
is conscious of it. I do not mean mira-
clos in the eyes of the world, or miracles
in outward form, but I mean
real mirac es, nevertheless The man
moves mountains, aad he knows
it. Why do not we all have
thi# faith? A Christian lady once
asked me, “How is it that I do not
enjoy my religion more ? Why am I so
depressed and cast down ?” My reply
was, “ I C9n soon tell you. You have
taken the heimet of hope and the broast*
plate of righteousness, and the shield of
faith, and the sword of the Spirit, and
have locked them up in some place—I
don’t know where, but I do know that
you have not put on the glorious
panoply God gave you, and now you
wonder that you do not feel the Bafety
bis armor secures. I can tell you of
your past life for months. Your chosen
companions have not boon Christ’s
loved ones, but thos9 who reject or
neglect him; your chosen books have
not had one word ot gospel in them;
your prayers have been a form; your
bible-reading a sly peep now and then,
because it was your duty. And now
having turned away from your God and
Saviour, you are surprised that you
have none of the joys of Christianity.
I should be surprised if you had.” It
is our want of faith that prevents our
comfort, and prevents our miracle*
wot king—our want of faith that rests
upon fastiog and prayer, upon a with,
drawal from a false, vain world, and upon
our union with God. We are in fault—
uot God. He has promised it to all his
people. Let us put forth our hands and
take it, aud become miracle-workers
all our life long.—[Howard Crosby.
IVhnt an* Rich Men DoingT
Are they hoarding money for lawyers
and children to quarrel over ? or mid
night and grave yard ghouls to be haunt
ed and finally to ba rewarded with?
Graves have their forces, and good men
often speak grandly by virtue of a fin
ished life. But a man who sacrifices
while he lives, who does good with his
means when he could use them for the
expansion of his business, who now aud
then contracts his capital a little and
gives the slice to great benevolence, not
only prevents a large measure of litiga
tion, but is a living witness to the virtue
oi a great sacrifice. He spares irom him-
s If that he may share with the world.
Who can manage a great charity so well
as the hand that first created it ? Who
can well advise concerning it as the
brain that conceived it and the heart
that bhsjed it ? We suspect that the
recent strifes over great estates, and the
uncertainty which overhangs their man
agement and distribution, are going to
produce a revolution in the grace of giv
ing. Men are going to give earlier in
life; they are going to make hsnevelence
moro of a study; they are going to give
attention to it in their vigorous youth,
which will make them examples to the
beauty of self-denial, and the true means
of leaving a legacy of love to posterity.
Tnere are vast accumulations of wealth
at tills moment in our great centres,
that ought to ha thrown into the batter
channels. Misery predominates every
where. The suffering prevail over the
strong. As to the future of what a lib
eral soul leaves behind for children and
friends, after a life-time of good and
wise-giving to great causes, we believe it
will do more, reach further, and live
longer, than if it were tho undivided
estate of a grasping hand, and an unchar
itable. There are cases where a half is
more than the whole, and this is one of
them.
NAPOLEONIC WILLS.
Ciku llio Eniprns Kub<*iiIp Pity tbc Money
Dftlird by tier Mom.
Philadelphia Press.
Young Napoleon left a holograph will,
“done at Camden Place, Ohiselhurst,
the 26tb of February, 1879,” not attested
by any witness, but, from the first
word to tho last, in his own hand-writ
ing. According to the law of England
(the Wills Act, 1 Victor ire, Chapter 26),
a will must be executed in presence ot
two witnesses, who see tho testator sign.
it, or, at least, ncknowedge it, and are
both present at the time. According to
tho Scotch law and practice, a holograph
will (that is, wholly written as well as
signed by the testator,) does not require
witnesses to make it operative. When
this will is brought up for probate in
London, near which it was executed, the
recording officer may declare that, not
being signed by witnesses, it is not a
legal document. Ia such case the Em
press iHtgenie, as next of kin, will prob
ably take out simple letters of adminis
tration, as she would have done had
there been no will. Probably, too, she
will endeavor to carry out, by all means
in her power, the testamentary wishes
other deceased son. The question may
arise: “What is her pecuniary ability to
do this?”
The general belief is that the Empress
Eugenie, during her nine years’ residence
iu England, has not been in a condition
of pecuniary prosperity. Her husband
and herself neglected, while on the
throne, to make any prudential pro
vision for tho “rainy day” which gene
rally comes to mortals once at least in
tleir course of life. They appeared to
have been all unconscious of any future
shadow to dull the brightness of their
exalted lot. They acted as if they had
made the wheel-of*fortune pause iu it
downward course. In Martin’s States**
man’s Year-Book of 1870—the year
when the emperor was shattered—we
find a semi official statement, which had
regularly appeared every year after
year in previous volumes. It runs thus:
“ Napoleon III. has a larger list than
any other monarch in Europe. Besides
a fixed annual revenue of 25,000,000
francs, or £ 1,000,000, hi# Imperia,
Majesty has the income of the crown
domains, amounting to about 12,000,000
francs, £480,000, and the free possession
of a number of palaces, parks, forests and
mansions, kept at tho expense of the
state. The crown domains include a
considerable portion of the estates oi the
Orleans family, contiscatea by imperial
decree of January 22, 1852. It is calcu
lated that the total revenue of Napoleon
III. reaches the sum of 42,000,000 lrancs,
or £1,680,000 a year, which income
however, has been surpassed of late by
the annual expenditure. Tho debts on
the imperial civil list are stated to
amount to abovo 100,000,000 francs, or
£4,000,000.
With au iucroase of $8,400,000 a year
and free oceujuucy of furnished palaces
and mansions, Napoleon III. also con
trived to run into debt to the amount
of $20,00),000; and when he found an
asylum in England was understoo l to
have only the rental o’ his wife's Span
ish estates to live upon. She also had
some property in Pari#, chiefly consist
ing of hanJaomi mamious in the new
boulevards created by Baron Haussman
in that city, but those had to bo sold
under inevitable legal process at tho
suitof tho craving creditors who ought
to have been paid out of the civil list.
Yet here, in the Prince Imperial’s will,
are legacies to the aggregate amount of
900,000 francs in hard cash (this is
$180,000), and aUo life-pensions of $20,-
000 a year to five other legatees. Other
bequests, personal souvenirs, of more
interestrthan value, to near relations,
friends and members of the household at
Ohiselhurst, need not be particularly
noticed. Bnt the trouble is, where can
theEmpres9 Eugenie find $180,000 to
pay her son’s money bequests ? Could
young Napoleon have been impressed in
any way with the idea that he had $180,-
000 at his dispDial, without pressing on
the limited meam of his mother, whom
he so dearly loved ?
History is cunstantly repeating itself,
as the proverb saya. In April, 1821, a
few days before hia death, Napoleon I.,
then a captive in St. Helena, made his
la*t will, which was ev-ntually lodged in
the Ecclesiastical Court in London, sub
sequently given up to Napoleon III., and
is now preserved among the national
arcbieveB of France. By thiB will he
bequeathed mauy millions of francB to
various persons, stating that on leaving
Paris in 1815 he had deposited 6,000,000
francs with Lafitte, the banker, who was
to pay him 5 per cent, thereon, and that
Marie Louise, his wife, owed him $2,-
000,000; a like sum being due, he de
clared, from Eugene Beauharnais, his
Rtep-son. In addition he stated that
he had also left iu Paris his private do
main, created, to the amount of 200,-
000,000 francs, out of the savings of 12,.
000,000 lrancs per annum out of his civil
list in fourteen years, besides other prop
erty. Butin actual money Napoleon I.
estimated that he was worth $42,000,-
‘000, and made numerous and munifi
cent bequests out of that capital. When
this was finally inquired into on behalf
of the legatees, it turned out that the
entire wealth of the discrowned captive
of St. Helena was under 1,000,000 francs,
or $200,000 of our money! There need
not be much suprise if the Prince Impe
rial’s money bequests should be as un
substantial as those of his famous grand
uncle.
A Dignified Coachman.
l’uris Correspondent oftho Newark Advcitisor,
The coachmau of wealthy Europeans
are made so much of by their employers
as to become oftentime i the masters of
their masters. A ridiculous Btory ie-
told of a Russian nobleman who esteem
ed himself fortunate in obtaining an ex
cellent English coachman. He accom
panied hi# master in his journeys aud
was treated with great kindness and
liberality by his employer. On one oc
casion a lady friend dined at the Count’s.
He had promised to Bend her home. At
ten o'clock she called for the carriage.
The coachman could not be found.
Accordingly a groom was ordered to
take his place. The next day the
coachman came to see his master and
offered his resignation. The latter, who
had said not a word about his absence
when wanted the previous evening,
was surprised and asked the reason.
“Yours ia an excellent place and you
are an excellent master, but I can never
more mouut tho box afcain. I don’t
drive after a groom !” And he persisted
in his determination, in spite ol all the
eflortsot the Count to appease his indig
nation.
A Trance of Niue Week*.
Norfolk Virginian.
The physicians of tLIa city are much
interested, and the public generally
greatly exercised, over a singular in-
8tanc? of suspended consciousness—the
case of a young lady who has lain in a
trauco for nine weeks. The case has
been much talked of for weeks, but up
to this time the papers have refrained
from giving general publicity to it
through their columns. The young lady
in question has for weeks lain in a coma-
tore state, and for a mouth was apparent
ly asleep. After this period her slum
bers appeared to be disturbed, her face
at times becoming greatly c mtorted, and
her hands gesticulating wildly. Her eyes
became wide open, her countenance be
trayed no in tell gene 3 or consciousness.
Her condition up to tho present writing
remains unchanged, aud the doctors are
still watching the case with anxiety.
They have had great difficulty in afford
ing the patient sufficient nourishment,
aud have reported to almost every method
of introducing food into tho stomach.
They pronounce the case a phase of
hysteria, and say that it will not neces
sarily prove fatal.
Kclf-Kcapcd.
Always remember no ouo cm debase
you but yourself, dlander, satire, false
hood, injustice—these can never rob
you of your manhood. Men may lie
ab?ut you they may denounce you,
they may coenaU puapienns manifold,
they may make your failing the tsriet
oi their wit or cruelty ; never be alarmed
--never swerve an inch from the line
your judgment and conscieuci have
marked out for you. They can not, by
all their efforts, take away your knowl
edge of yourself, the purity of your
nature. While these arc left, you are
in point of fact unharmed,
Subscription Rates.
One year $1 50
8ix months, 75
Three months 40
Resipaptr Lsw Decision.
1. Any person who takes a paper regular-
ljr from the postoffice—whether directed to
hianeine or another’s, or whether he hassnb-
scribed or not—1# responsible for the amount.
2. If a person orders hit-fpaper discontinued
be must pay all arrearages, or the publisher
may continue to send it until payment is
made, and collect the whole amount,whether
the paper ia taken from the office or not.
3. The courts have decided that refusing
to take newspapers or periodicals from the
postoffice, or removing and leaving them
uncalled for is prima facie evidence of in
tentional fraud.
riNHERN OF MEW.
Down tbecalm river they leisurely floated,
There, in a nook that wasahady and cool,
They brought out (heir line*, and (heir hooks were
all coated
With bait well adapted the fishes to fool.
Mabel was with them, and Lizzie and Laura,
Maidens light-hearted, and merry, and (air,
Each bestowed amilee on hsr favored adcrer,
Destined, perchance, to fall Into her anare.
Idly they played with their Hies, in the river,
Little they cared though no tuh should be caught,
Fondly each hoped that the fates would deliver
Into her keeping the lover ahe sought.
Lightly they talkid upon th'mea with which Cupid
Had lavlably filled both their hea*ta and their
brains,
And laughingly said that the men were all stupid,
The while they were artfu’ly weaving their
chalna.
The day passed away, and the nihlog was ended,
Pleased with themselves the fair innocent* looked,
They g«z?d on their victims and each compic-
bended
The fish ahe hal angled so long for was hooked.
Then beck to the town the young men rowed light-
If.
Their baskets all empty—the fishing was tame—
Whili on each other the maidens smiled brightly—
lhe fishers of men had won at their game.
Clipped Paragraphs.
. .“Marriage with a tinge of romance’
is what they call it in Kansas when the
old man rides after the couple and
shoots the hat off the bridegroom’s
head with a bullet from an army car
bine.
.. Husband—“Maria, my dear, you
seem to be very lonesome in my com
pany. Do you not love me now as you
did before our marriage?” Wife—
“Why, of course, Gerald, but you know
since our marriage we have become one,
and I feel lonesome without a second
party.”
..Those widely-advertised quieten,
called “soothing syrups,” for children,
have killed several infants in England.
The base of the stuff’ is opium. At an
inquest recently hold on a poisoned
child, a doctor said “the administration
cf such mixtures was a common cause of
death where children died of convul
sions.”
. .They had an amateur brass band at
a funeral a while ago, and when they
had equelched out the “Sweet By-and-
By” ( at the grave-side, the minister in
his address said that “the deceased was
in one respect most fortunate in being
called thus eariy.” That wa9 all he
said, but the mournors grinned, and th
amateurs think that “blamed sarcasm is
infernally out of place at a funeral, you
know.” #
..“Chevaliers of the press! Down
with the despotism of the dictionary !”
Class in American history stand up.
Read! “WenJorj Uashingtuu wuz at
Vale Forj, his traps wur in ned ov lud,
klotbing an-1 }iker. It wuz vere told
wether and fu ov them hnd shuz on tbar
fet. But Jorj Uashingtun’s kurj nevur
fald, and at last kongress sent him sup-
liz, and he cacht the eneme ovur to Nu
Jerze and wipt him at the batel uv
Trentun.” That’ll do, boys. Run out,
now, and play.
The How of It,
New York Times.
The story of the tragedy, carefully
compiled from all available sources, is as
follows: Ex-Governor Sprague recently
returned to Narragansett Pier from a
viait to Portland. He was greatly ex
cited by railroads, and on reaching his
house armed himself with a shot-gun.
Governor Sprague told him that he
would give him just twenty-four hours
to leave the room, which offer was thank>
fully accepted and a written receipt
given. Professor Conkling, who was
employed to teach the Sprague children
German, then said: “Perry do you
want to witness a cold-blooded murder?’’
whereupon he immediately got out of
the carriage and eought refuge in a sa
loon. There is some question as to who
carried the old gentleman out of the
house, to avoid the further effusion of
blood. He was an invalid, and naturally
felt that he would like to withdraw be*
fore the family shooting began. Senator
Linck seems quite unable to account fer
j Governor Sprague’s hospitality, and
j Professor Conkling, who Is apparently a
j peaceful and unobtrusive German, is
quite surprised to learn Ihat he had any
connection with the affair. After this
the ladies instantly withdrew, and it is
now said that it was not loaded, and
there is some mistake somewhere.
Wlioro Jefferson Davis Eloped.
Green Bay Acvoi ate.
A correspondent of tho St. Paul
Pioneer-Press, writing from Prairie du
Chien, says:
“The house in which General Zack
Taylor used to livo over fifty years ago
was pointed out to us as the place
whero tho ex-rebel chief, Jeff Davis,
made love to ono of General Taylor’s
daughters, and, having wooed and won
her heart, but failing to get her papa’s
consent, he stole her through a window,
ran away and got married. Perhaps the
day is in the future when there will be
pilgrimages from the south to visit the
scenes of their chieftain’s courtship.”
This occurrence—the running away
with General Taylor’s daughter by Jeff
Davis—is- variously located at Gtreen
Bay, Fort Winnobago aud Prairie (!u
Chien, but, without doubt, Fort Winne
bago, and not Prairie du Chien, wks
really the place where it occurred. , >