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EASTMAN TIMES.
A. I*4al liive Country l’apr.
PUBLISHED E VICHY THURSDAY MORNING
-t3Y
-11. . BUIIT ON.
I'EiINS Of SUBSIRinKW I
One copy, one year $2.00
One copy, Ox months 1.00
Ten copies, in clubs, one year, each 1.50
Pinplij copies 5 cts
YVHA'i’ Nil K THOUGHT.
Marlon showed mn l.er wedding gown
tod In r w il of gossamer-'aco to-night. *
And the orange blooms that to-tnorrow morn
Sliall fade in her soft hair's golden light,
But J’ailipoamo to the open door;
Like ttie heirt of a wild rose glowed her cheek,
And they wandered off through the gard< u paths
So blest that they did not earc to sp atr.
I woneb r how it seems to be lured ;
To know you are fair in some onw's ryes;
‘ hflt ujeitl someone your beauty dawns
vei yda ;.,s anew surprise.
To know that whether you weep or smile,
Whether your mood be grave or gay,
S no body thinks you alt the while
S * ecu r than any 11 jwer in May J
I wonder wlm< it would be to love;
** , Tt at, I think, would be sweeter f.tr -
to know that one out of all the world
Was lord of vonr life, your king, your star!
They talk of love’s sweet tumult and pain ;
I am not sure that I understand,
Though a thrill ran down to niv linger-lips
'■'roe when somebody - touch’d my hand,
1 wonder what il would b- to dream
Of a child that udg t one day be your own,
Of Urn hidden spring* of your bfe a part,
L't-sh of Vonr flesn and bons of jour bone.
Marion stooped one day to kiss
A begga'V bah-, with a tender grace,
While some sweet thought, bke a prophecy,
Looked from her pure Madonna face,
1 wonder what it may be to think
To-morrow w ill be your wcldiug-Jay,
And, in the radiant sunset glow,
liowh fragrant, fiowery paths to stray,
As Marion doei tnis b'e-sed ni’lit
VNilb l’.ti ip. h st in a blissful dream.
C-in she feel hi* heart through the silence beat?
*'oes he see hi*' iyes )u thestailight gleam?
t hjestioliing i litis, my days go on,
**Jit never an answer comes to nm ;
All 1 ie’s tnysteri's, sweet as strange.
Sealed a way from my life nr st ly\ '
T, ;t. .still I dream, O,heart of mipc !
0 a beautiful ci< that lies afar ;
A, and there, sunn time, I shall drop the mark,
And be shapely and fair as other* are !
A CURIOUS COMPANION.
WANTED, by a voting married lady, a
’ ' companion to reside with licr during hor
husband's absence in India. A libera! salary
"ill bo given, with every home comfort, to any
one suitable. Apply, personally, if possible,
at No. 210 Upper Berkeley street. W.
The foregoing advert,ist ment was dis
patched by me after considerable cogi
tation, and T awaited the result of it
with some anxietv. ]\ly husband. Ma
jor Conyers, lmd been suddenly ordered
to India; mid having ro sister or anv
available cousin whom I could invite to
stay with mo during his absence, I
thought a companion was the best
lliing with Which T could provide luy
t olf ; accordingly, 1 indited my small
paragraph, which I had the satisfaction
of seeing placed in a Very Conspicuous
pal o of the paper ou the moruiug after
I scut it. 1 lived iu Ijoudou, C >use
quent ly felt certain that the personal
interview would bo easily rh an aged ;
but, 1 had committed an error in not
nanling tiny particular hour, as. from
oleveu in the forehomi until quite late
in the dav, the applications for a per
sonal Interview with iliy unfortunate
sen never ceased.
Visitors in answer to the advertise- j
Moot came frequently, but none of 1
them suited me.
Just as it was getting dusk, mv ser
vant came rp to the drawing room and
informed mo that, such a nice looking j
yoittig ladv was in the dining-room;
quite the nicest that had been yet.
“Ask her to dome lip stairs, then,
I'lllis ; but do not admit any one else,”
I ri plied; and the next minute the
drawing-room door was thrown open by
Ellis, and “Miss Burke ” announced.
Sue was dressed iu mourning, and
even in the dim light, was, i conhl see,
a pale face, rather handsome girl of ap
parently about four-and-tweuty. Her
height, was over the average, but seemed
greater from her extreme thinness,
which struck me as almost startling.
“ Good evening,” she sanl, in a low ami
rather pleasant voice. “I am afraid t
m vorv late ; it was eo kind of you to
see mo.”
“ It is late,” T assented, “ Lmt that
does not matter.”
“Thank you,” responded my visitor.
“ 1 came about your advertisement—l
saw you wanted a companion, and I am
anxious to get, a situation of the kind.”
“ 1 have had ho many applications to
day,” I answered, for want of something
better to say.
“Ah ! I can quite fancy it,” returned
Miss Burke. “ I fear lan too late?”
“No,” I replied; “I have seen no
one vet to suit me.”
“ If you would ouly try me, I should
do my utmost to please you,” she said,
almost pleadingly. “ T have already i
been a companion, ami I can give yon j
references which may induce you to
think of me;” anil Miss Burke opeued
a small black velvet bag, which, until
then, I had not, perce,ved, and placed
in my hand a monogramed and coro
lietted epistle, addressed to herself,
purporting to come from a Lady Mon
tacute, whose companion she had been
for two years, and who expressed her-
St ’lf in the warmest terms, assuring
Miss Burke, whenever she returned
fron: the continent, whither she was just
then going, that it would give her the
greatest pleasure to answer any inquir
ms in her favor; in the meantime, Lady
Montacute authorized her to make what
use she chose of the letter now sent,
ending by saying she was certain,
wherever she went, Miss Burke must
be a favorite and an acquisition.
Then followed a letter from a Bev.
Hr. White, from a remote rectory in
( muberland, stating that lie had known
Mins Emily Burke trorn her childhood,
an 1 could certify that she was not only
desirable in all respects, but, a most
amiable and talented young Indy, whose
family were both well known and highly
respected. Nothing could be more sat
isfactory; and after reading the two
missives carefully by the light of the
I raised my eyes towards my vis
itor, whom I found regarding me in the
most eager manner imaginable.
“They are most kind letters,” I said;
“ and as far as references go, I am sure
I could not Jo better. Your duties
would be very light—it is really only
for the sake of companionship that, I
require any one, as I do everything for
self, but I have been very lonely
since my husband went away.”
“I can imagine it,” responded Miss
Burke, sympatbizingly. “ I should do
Bay utmost to cheer you.”
“You are very kind to say so,” I an
swered. “Should we agree as to terms,
w hen could you come ?”
“To-morrow, if you will permit me,’
replied Mias Burke. “ I am in lodg
mgs, and the expense of thorn is so
£r at, f should only be too glad to give
|uem up—l nm very poor.” she added
' u ft low tone,
lie instill! limes.
Two Dollars Per Anflunß
VOLUME 111.
I was sorry for the poor girl ; and
feeling I had been as pritdeiit rfs possk
hie iu perusing her references, ami
trusting a good deal to her air of quiet
respectability, I proceeded to state my
terms, which were eagerly accepted.
After a little conversation all was set
tled, and my companion promised to
make her appearance before luncheon
on the following day. For the rest of
that evening I was unusually medita
tive; I was pleased, and yet not pleased.
Bhe was not altogether my beau ideal of
a companion. Although ladylike, and
with undeniable references, there was a
certain awkwardness in her manner.
Her room was to be on the same floor
with my own ; and on the following
morning l went in, a short time before
she arrived, to see that everything was
ready for her. It was October, and the
weather was chilly, so I desired that she
should have a tire, as I fancied, comiDg
from wretched lodgings, it might be a
sort of welcome for her. At one o’clock
she arrived, bringing with her a small
black box as her sole luggage, which
Ellis and the housemaid, betweeh them,
carried directly to her rooih, whither
she followed them almost immediately,
to take off her things. I accompanied
her, and remained for a few minutes,
telling her to join me in the drawing
room as scon as she could, luuch being
ready.
She presently appeared, very miich
altered by the removal of her bonnet.
She wore her hair in a Crop, a fashion I
detested; and her figure without her
cloak was only redeemed from awkward
ness by the well-made black dress, which
had evidently been the work of a first
rate mod inf c. She wore no ornaments,
except a plain gold ring on the little
huger of hsr left hand, which I noticed
was particularly large. I ceased to
criticise her after we had been together
for a little. She was so pleasant, so
chatty, and yet. so quiet withal, that ere
evening came I began to congratulate
myself on mv own perspicacity in hav
ing engaged her, and was fully prepared
to indorse Lady Moutaeute’s opinion,
that she was sure to be not only a favor
ite but an aoqusition.
A fortnight slipped quietly away, and
in my weekly budget to my husband I
gave most charming accounts of my
companion, which our every day inter
course seemed fully to confirm. But
about the third week, a something I
could not explain made me take a dis
liko to her. I had.net been very well,
and her kindness had been unremitting;
consequently, J felt almost angry with
myself for indulging iu a feeling which
I could not help aekuowleding Was both
unreasonable aud childish.
B it it gained grottud in spite of my
self; and one night, as I Was staiidiiig
by the looking-glass iti my bedroom,
wliii'li was in the shadow, 1 caught sight
of Alisa Burke, Who was leaning ou the
mantel piece iu the full light of the gas,
which burned ou either side of it, re
garding me with a s’eaithy and search
ing glance, which 1 instantly observed,
but had sufficient sense to take no notice
of. The expression in her large black
eyes haunted me for day s, nud caitsed
me to say good-night to her oh the
landing, and, in addition, to lock my
door, a precaution I had never before
thought of taking.
One night shortly afterwards I awoke,
faucying I heard a movement outside
my door. My room was perfectly dark,
and l was convinced some noise had
suddenly awakened me. I listened in
tently, almost too terrified to breathe,
until I heard most distinctly the handle
of my door cautiously turned. An al
most death-like horror eeizod me, and
for an instant I was absolutely rigid
with terror; but the spell was broken
by another audible effort to open the
door, and the hall clock struck three,
w hich made me spring up in bed, seize
the matches, and, with trembling
lingers, attempted two or three times to
strike a light. At last I was successful,
and the welcome blaze of the gas which
I bt gave me courage to call out boldly :
“ Who is there?” But no answer came.
I p. aled my bell vigorously, aud in a
few minutes 1 heard steps approaching,
and Eilis’ welcome voice asked if I was
ill.
“No, Ellis, not ill,” I said, “but
terrified.” as I unlocked the door and
admitted her. “ Borne ono tried my
door not five minutes ago.”
“Tried your door, ma’am? surely
not ! ” ejaculated E'lis.
“ Yes, E'lis ; I am certain of it, and
it, has given me such a shock. I cannot
be left alone again.”
“ What is tlie matter, dearest Mrs.
Conyers ?” exclaimo < Miss Burke, who
appeared in my room just as 1 had
made the last: remark to Ellis.
“ I have been frightened,” I answered;
“but do not disturb yourself, Miss
Burke ; it was probably nothing.”
“ It could not have been anything,
or I must have heard it,” she said, half
to me and half to Edi?.
“Pray do not trouble yourself,” I
responded ; “lam only 3orry you got
up at all.”
B .e stayed for a few minutes, but
getting no encouragement to remain,
returned to her own room, assuring mo
if she heard a sound she would be
with me in a moment.
The instant she -was safely gone I
turned to Ellis, desiring her in the first
pl ice to close aud lock my door ; and
in the second, to prepare to lemam
with me until the morning; for I was
so unhinged by the circumstance,
trifling though it was, that to be left by
myself' was out of the question.
She had been with me ever since my
marriage, now three years, and had
been well known to my husband’s
family all her life, consequently, T felt
I might trust her, so I said: “Ellis,
I have my own suspicions; but we
must do nothing until we are sure.
Meanwhile, you must have a bed made
up in this room, and watch ” —■
“ Miss Burke?” whispered E lis.
“Yes,” I replied “it was her who
tried m 7 door.”
Well, ma’am,” confided Ellis, “I
have been downright afraid of her this
some time brek—civil spoken though
she is. But what could she want at
your door ? ”
“ “That I do not know; bnt we may
find out.” , , ,
By dint of a blanket off mv bed, and
sundry shawls, Ellis was made comfort
able for the rest of the nigut on the
i s j 5 and I returned to bed, not to
| sleep, fur - T - was thoroughly upset, but
EASTMAN, DODOK CO., GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JULY I. 1875.
to life and wonder how I was ever to get
through the ten months that still re
mained of my husband’s absence.
Tired ami unnerved, I met Miss
Burke at breakfast, and we spent our
morning in a very silent fashion. I
wrote to my husband whilst she walked
restlessly about the drawing-room, con
stantly askiug me how I wu*, an inquiry
for which I did not feel ao grateful as I
might have done under other circum
stances. Lunch came, and afterward
Miss Biirke, who was usually most un
willing to go out, asked me if I could
spare her for the afternoon, as she
wanted to go to see a sick friend.
“ Certainly,” I replied, glad to get
rid of her. About four o’clock I lay
down on the sofa in the inner drawing
room, and must have fallen asleep, for
I heard no one come into the room, but
I awoke with the consciousness that
someone was leaning over me with their
face in close proximity to my own. 1
felt rather than saw them ; so close were
they to me that their lips seemed almost
touching my own, and as I sprang up I
came in violent collision with—my com
panion.
“Miss Burke!” 1 exclaimed, indig
nantly, but I could say nothing more,
fot, after all, the crime of leauing over
me was not of a deadly nature, though
coupling it, as I instantly did, with my
previous suspicions, I felt not ouly
extremely angry, but considerably
alar hied;
“ I was afraid you were ill, dear Mrs.
Canyers. I do hope I have not dis
pleased ehfe proceeded, ia a de
precating tone. “I did not mean to
offend you.”
“It is of no consequence,” I answered,
rising from the sofa; “but please do
not do so again. I am nervous aud
easily startled.”
The circumstance was thou tacitly
dismissed, and wo got through the even
ing pretty fairly. I rather looked for
ward to a safe night, for I knew Ellis’
bed was in readiness for her. I said
good-night a little earlier than usual to
Miss Burke, but did not inform hor
that 1 had indited an epistle to her
friend, the Kev. Mr. White, to ask for
further particulars as to hor anteced
ents.
I heard her come up to her room, and
when her door closed, a feoliug of com
passion came over me, for I fancied 1
had not only unjustly suspected her,
but been very cold in my manner, which
sbe had evidently felt. Ellis came after
l was in bod, aud in a short time I had
oral evidence that she was slum hot iug.
It made mo feel secure, at all event i,
though t Was certain I should dream of
all kinds of Unearthly things if the snor
ing Went on all night. Nothing hap
pened to alarm us, and next morning,
iu a subdued and anxious voice, Miss
Burke hoped I Had iiot been disturbed,
an. l that Ellis had kept me from feeling
nervous -this last remark very re
proachfully.
About twelve o’clock, when we were
sittiug iu the drawing room, Ellis came
up and told me that a gentleman wanted
to see me on business, but would n U
give his name. “Probably about some
subscription,” l observed; “perhaps I
had better Ree what he Wants.”
Without suspicion of what awaited
mo, I weut down stairs, and on entering
the dining room encountered a short
and rather red-faced man, who, bowing
profoundly, asked if I was Mrs. Con
yers. On niy replying in the affirma
tive, ho continued : “May I ask what
establishment yon have?”
I must hate looked astonished, as he
explained : “ I am a detective police
officer, madam, and my business here
will, I am afraid, be an unpleasant
one.”
“Indeed!” I ejaculated, “iu what
way?”
“From information I have received,
I believe you have a person under your
roof who is wanted on a very serious
charge. I must ask your permission to
summon every one iu the house into
this room. I have taken every precau
tion to prevent any one leaving it, and
if you will kiudly accede to my request,
I shall get over a painful duty as quickly
as possibly.”
If my lips had been capable of utter
ance, the words they would have
framed would have been “Miss Burke,”
but 1 said nothing. I merely rang the
bell, which Ellis answered so promptly,
I felt certain she must have been be
hind the door, ready to protect mo iu
case of au emergency.
“Btimmon t he servants, Eilis,” I said ;
“and—and ask Miss Burke to ome
down stairs.” It was almost like a
dream to me, seeing my four domestics
walk in; and then—saspeoting nothing
—came Miss Burke.
“Got yon at last, sir!” C’ied the de
tective, making an agile dart towards
my companion.
“ Not without some trouble,” coolly
responded his prisoner, whose courage
was apparently quite equal to the occa
sion. in my wildest moments I had
never dreamed of so desperate a de
nouement, and the discovery perfectly
paralyzed me with horror. It was uo
dreadful to realize that I had havborea
a wretch of a man in woman’s clothing
not only in my house, but in the capac
ity of my companion! In less time than
I can describe it in, the detective and
his prisoner had departed ; it was quiet
ly and quickly managed ; and though a
detailed account of it did appear in the
papers, my name was, happily for me,
not allowed to transpire publicly.
The pseudo Miss Burke turned out to
be a notorious young man, or I may say
lad, of the name of Browning, who, hav
ing embezz ed large sums, as well as
stolen a quantity of magnificent jewelry,
had been nnable —owing to the preeau
tions taken to prevent his domg so—
to leave London, or to dispose of his
stolen property. Through the agency
of a female friend he had adopted lus
disguise, and my unlucky advertisement
had suggested to him th* idea of in
suring his own safety, should I be cred
ulous enough to take him upon the
recommendations, whioh, I need hardly
say, had emanated from his own pen.
Not only had he thought of his personal
security, but that of the stolen goods,
which, in the shape of diamonds and
bank notes, were found securely stowed
away in the lit r le black box, which I
had thought contained the worldly pos
sessions of my poverty-stricken com
panion. He was tried, convicted, and
sentenced to penal servitude for four
teen years-
In God TTe Trust.
Pharmaceutical Red-Tape.
Most people know from experience
how long it takes to get a prescription
put up at an apothecary’s shop when
the occasion is pressing, but deliberate
as are the clerks of pharmacists on
this side of the water, they must yield
the palm to theif French brethren.
The foliowing translation of a little
sketch by M. Charies Monselet illus
trates our remark: The Pharmacy
Blanc is one of the handsomest in
Paris. In the first place, it is situated
m a central quarter, that is to say, in
proximity to the greater part of the
accident?. The shop is large and airy,
its windows are adorned with curiously
shaped bottles filled with variously
colored spirits; the interior is decorated
with undoubted good taste ; there were
urns wherein serpents are coiled, dark
green busts of E-Jculapius and Galen,
and copper sphinxes support the coun
ters. I can never explain it to myself,
but pharmacies have always a fascina
tion for me, possessing, as they do, a
methodical aspect and an exceptional
atmosphere. From the powders, min
erals, roots, plants, herbs, dried flow-
ers, the unguents, pates, elixirs, there
exhales an odor singularly pleasing to
me, and amidst which I fancy I should
like to live. All at once, while I was
examining all those jars, so alike in ap
pearance aud so diverse in contents, a
woman pushed open the door of the
shop violently and entered. She had
hardly strength enough left to speak ;
her countenance was convulsed ; she
could only hand to the pharmaeien a
prescription which she held clutched in
her trfemblifig finger?. Her husband
has just received a fearful wound ill the
head ; life is flow lying ou his bod un
conscious. The doctor, called ill haste,
has written rapidly a few lines upon
the paper she had brought. It is these
few lines that she lnid passed to the
pharmaeien, who is calmly and gravely
unfolding them, for a pharmaeien
should never cease to be grave. Ho is
slowly deciphering the writing, for A
pharmaeien should, before all, make
himself well acquainted with the de
tails of a proscription. When lie has
finished reading it, he says to the
woman—
“Be good e lough to take a seat. Bit
down ! Bit down ! ”
“But, sir,” she cries, “do you not
understand that my husband is in the
greatest danger ? Give me quickly
what I require ! ”
“It will only take an instance;
please to sit down.”
The poor woman sinks into a chair,
her arms hanging listlessly ou each
side, and her face expressionless from
anxiety and fat'gue. During this time
the pharmaeien sets t) work. He takes
a small vial, places it in the beautiful
scales before him. He goes to a row of
tlie jrtrs nrrunge.l lil<o Imoks in n library.
He pours from otle a few drops into the
small vial. He then weighs it, and adds
more from another jar. All this with
the care and system recommended by
tile CdJex. From time to time the
woman jumps from her seat suddenly.
Iter husband, pale and covered with
blood, haunts her, and sli e turns to the
pharmaeien, and joining her hands in
supplication, she says :
“Oh ! sir ! sir !”
“ Patieilce ”
“ My poor husband!’’
“It will soon be ready, rnadame.”
B lying this, the pharmaeien cirks
hermetically the little vial, which is at
last full; he tikes from a drawer a piece
of green paper, with which he covers
the cork, arranging its folds with a tedi
ous neatness ad regularity ;he ties it
with a bit of red twine, and trims the
paper with a pair of scissors ; then ho
plunges a stick of sealiug-wax iathe gas
jet, aud deposits upon the summit a
lighted drop, iu which he affixes the end
of the twine.
“Oh ! sir! sir !”
Our pharmaeien has not yet finished;
lie has now to find a label aud paste it
upon the bottle, then to write in a plain
hand the number of the prescription,
the name of the mixture, and whether
for internal or external use, not forget
ting the hackneyed phrase, “ Bhake be
fore usiug.”
“ {Sir 1 sir !”
“ it is finished, malame.”
In point of fact, after having aocom
plished all these indispensable formali
ties, the pharmaeien rolls up the vial
in an elegant quality of paper, ami pro
sents it to the woman.
“ How much ? how much ?” stammers
she, feeling for the money iu the pocket
of lier dress.
“ Pay at the desk.”
At the desk sits enthroned the pto
prietor of the pharmacy, with a majestic
air, dreamily perusing the latest livra .
non of pharmaceutical literature; lie
detains the woman several minutes more,
amt at last she receives her change ;
then she precipitates herself towards
the door, when she encounters again the
clerk, who politely opens it for her, in
the midst of a deafening rattling of the
bell attached thereto. Such is the
scene, dear neighbor, which I accident
ally witnessed the other day. May
heaven preserve you from ever going to
procure anything else in the Pharmacy
Blanc than au agreeable syrup or some
perfumed pastilles.
Madame I'orval.
A Paris correspondent of the Boston
Journal writes; The revival of that
exciting and marvellous drama, “Marie
,l eanne,” at the Lyric Dramatic Thea
tre, recalls to the theatrical critics a
host of souvenirs of the great Dorval,
who created the role of Marie-Jeanue,
the women of the people. The piece
was first represented on the stage or
the Port Stint Martin Theatre in 1846.
The chief character is that of a mother
who loses her child, and the intensity
and terrible fervor bestowed upon her
pirt by Madame Dorval won the high
est encomiums ever accirded a modern
French actress. Damas the elder,
who was preeent at ihe first perfor
mance, has somewhere recounted his
impressions of the memorable occa
sion. After D irval, in one of the most
exciting scenes, had moved the whole
audience to frantic sobs and tears, the
impressible Damas could no longer
contain his emotion. He went behind
the scenes, and there found Dorval,
fainting and half dead from excitement
and effort. “Do you hear,” he said to
her, how violently they are applaud
ing you?” “Yes, I hear,” she an
swered, carelessly. “Well, I never, on
my life, heard any woman so applauded
before. ’ “ Certainly not,” rejoined
Dorval ; “other Women give au au
dience their talent ; I give it my life.”
It was true: and it was not a little sin
gular that this great actress should die,
four years later, broken-hearted before
the empty cradle of her only child.
The woman had matchless talents.
Theopkile Gautier said of her that she
“united iu one poor woman of the peo
ple the biblical Rachel, who would not
be consoled; Niobe. whoso marble
eyes are always moist; and Hefeaba,
who was noisy with sorrow.” Fred
erick Lemaitie, who was behind the
scenes ou one occa-ion when Dorvai
played Marie-Jeanne, was so overcome
that ho could sy nothing, but wept
silently when tho actress left the scene
and came to him; hoping for a word of
approval froni afi artist even greater
than herself.
Ah Unhappy Adventure.
The happy-thought mn has been
driving a clever cob nud writes : We
are going up a hill beautifully ! It is
quite a pleasure to sit behind him !
And as lie is the surest-footed beast
possible, coming down hill on the other
side will be simply perfect ! Bravo! I
am in luck ! I wouldn’t part with this
horse not for a hundred pounds ! This
is a bargain !
We ai’e on the summit.
I say to Cazell, cheerfully, “ There’s
rather a sharpish pitch here ” —meaning
that the decline is very sudden, and
that he mustn’t be astonished if, with
such a magnificent stepper, I take this
opportunity of showing him how “he
ought to go down hill.”
Down the “sharpish pitch.”
Ai ambling of wheels—tho trap slip
ping forward ou the horse’s back—a
tremendous whack on the dash-board
in front, as if it had heen attacked with
a sledge hammer—sudden flash of sup
position that this blow must have come
from tho liorse—supposition becomes
conviction on the unexpected and awful
appearance of the hind quarters of the
animal high up in the air, then of two
apparently gigantic hoofs, whose size
seems to have been exaggerated by a
hundred magnifying-glass power!
Bang ! bang ! —dash-board gone—heels
higher up than ever—reins anywhere—
whip nowhere. I hear my own voice,
as if it were somebody elso’s, shouting
wildly, “Murgle! get out behind!”
Bang! bang! My knee somehow or
other just escapes the enormous hoofs,
which are now being flourished furi
ously over my head—we are swaying to
* Jib right —to the left -up like a swing.
Bing! bang! Gigantic hoof* again!—
roll ng tike a ship! 1 am conscious of
slid holding the reins firmly, aud pull
ing him towards n ditch on tho loft.
Bang! crash—and in another half
millionth quarter of a second there
comes a tremendous rattling bang-we
arrived at, so to speak, our last kick—-
everything gives way in evf3ry direction,
and in a sott of grand final display of
cracking fireworks, we are, ia one sud
den explosion, sent flying up. all com
pact at flrst. like a sky rocket, then
dividing, and dropped out hero and
there, and being conscious the whole
time of gigantic horse’s legs waving
about, coruscating horse’s hoof?, wheels
whizz ; ng, wood snapping, and glass
breaking, until to all this there sud
denly succeeds a moment of the deepest
tranquility, broken ouly by the con
vulsive snorting of the clever cob, who
is lying on his side in a ditch, with
Murgle in a pious attitude kueeling on
his head, while all that is visible of the
trap are four wheels in the air—and I
take this all iu at a glance as I lie on
my back in the road, with a torn coat,
a smashed hat, and the broken reins
still in my hand; while Cazell, also
batless, is seated on a bank, with his
knees drawn up as though meditating
bathing, and wondering whether the
water were warm enough or not; his
scared look c mveying the notion of a
gentleman who had been called too
early for the train and wanted to go
asleep again.
EUUFNIE’S LACE'*.
itomclliing for tlie queen* of Society
to Quarrel Over.
The millioniare dry goods merchant.
Mr. A. T. Stewart, called at the New
York custom house, Tuesday, to view
an 1 informally appraise tbe wonderful
laces ee zed a short time since by
Special Treasury Agent Brackett. They
were spread out ou the counter of the
Seiz ire Bureau, and Assistant Collector
Lydecker, Mr. Phelps, of the ninth
division ; Col. Triecbel and oth< rs were
present. The laces of the empress have
not been described in too extravagant
terms. There "ere three white shawls,
three sets of collars and cuffs, and one
blue and colored embroidered shawl,
pieces of lace flouncing, a handkerchief,
two collars and various other pieces of
the most exquisite workmanship.
Mr. Stewart said he had never in all
his life seen such superb specimens of
lace-workings. As to the value of each
piece it must be judged as a work of
art, on which the value is set according
to the wealth of the coveter, or the
fashion of the time. There was one
flounce valued at SIO,OOO, or 50,000
francs in gold, and if a person could
view the fairy woof, the delicate film of
its embroidery, no surprise would be
expressed at the sum Human
hands bad worked with fairy deftness
to produce these marvellous results in
mimic flowers and arabasques, buds
and branches of gossamer texture, and
no one can compute tho eyesights ruined
and the lives wasted in producing this
one wonderful piece of lace which now
be* under ban in the seizure depart
ment of the custom house. Meitsonnier,
wuh his canvas 6x6 iu size, produced
picture* in which bght, e-lor, breadth
and action all were h <rmonized aud
blended m euch a wonderful maimer
that kings quarrelled for possession of
his works. Bo now it is supposed that
the queens of society will vie with each
other for the possession of these fairy
abrics of foreign fashioning.
A woman is reported to have died re
cently in Mexico at tho advanced age of
132 years. Her funeral was attended by
over 200 of her nearest relations, among
whom wer Q two sons, aged 90 and 100
years,
Payable in Advance.
NUMBER 22.
The i’arl Vogt Romance.
Carl Vogt, whoso real name he now
admits to be Joseph Stupp, sailed from
Europe in the Switzerland. This ends
the American chapter of the most ex
traordinary extradition case on record.
On the ‘2d of October, 1871, Vogt (by
which name he is best known 1 quit
Brussels for England. The night be
fore his departure the chateau of the
Chevalier du Bois de Bianco a Belgian
noblemau of great wealth, was burned
and sacked, and the tinding of the
charred remains of the Chevalier in the
blackened ruins of the chateau threw
all Brussels into a fever of excitement.
Suspicion at once pointed to Vogt as
the probable perpetrator of the triple
crime of robbery, arsoh, and murder,
on account of h’° quitting the country,
and the discovery of the fact that the
burned nobleman had given him mortal
offense by inducing him, while he was
employed as a gardener, to marry a
discarded mistress, aud by subsequent
ly renewing liis intimacy with the wo
man. Vogt was traced to Loudon, and
there it was learned that he met a
young woman from his native town in
Prussia, and sailed with her for the
United States. In December of the
same year, xe-Detective Philip Farley
arrested him in the Continental hotel in
Philadelphia, where he was lavishly
spending the proceeds of stocks, bonds
and securities known to have been the
property of his former employer. Vogt
was brought to New York without war-
rant, aud to prevent bin release upon a
writ of habeas corpus u general sessions
grand jury w'as induced to indict him
for bringing into this state property
stolen elsewhere. The trial of this in
dictment was conveniently delayed
pending an application to Gov. Hoffman
to extradite him, under the provisions
of a statute ol 1822, which was evident
ly intended to confer upon the governor
power to surrender criminals to foreign
states, upon demand, as a matter of
comitv. The necessity of this stylo of
extradition grew out of the fact that
there was then no extradition treaty
between the United states and Bel
gium.
When this business was in progms,
the woman who accompanied Vogt re
tained lawyers for him, and turned over
to them a large lot of securities, said to
have b?on worth SIOO,OOO or more, by
way of guaranteeing their fees. These
lawyers, however, reudere 1 their client
no important, service. Gov. Hoffman
decided to deliver the prisoner to the
Belgian authorities, and Vogt’s half
frantic female companion, deprived by
this time of means to employ other
counsel, applied to Mr. W<n. F. Kinfz
ing for the assistance. He sued out a
writ of habeas corpus from the supreme
court, which was served at the door of
tllG Tombs jnnt in time to prevent th
transfer of the prisoner thence to a
European steamer on*the point of sail
ing. Judpjo CiirHn njoiile(l the taw
upon which Gov. Iloffoian acted to be
in conflict with the constitution of the
United States, and there inoperative,
and ordered Vogt's discharge from cus
tody. This decision was affirmed by
tlie court of appeals, but the liberation
which it finally worked did not avail the
prisoner for even half an hour. He was
reincarcerated upon a bench warrant
base 1 upon the general sessions indict
ment. and detainers of civil orders of
arrest were piled np on him freely, al
though it was well understood that
neither the indictment nor the civil suits
would ever be brought to trial. The
object was to gain time for a further
effort in the extradition line. This was
made by inducing the Prussian govern
ment to demand the surrender of Vogt
on the ground that he was a Prussian
subject, and under a law of that king
dom was amenable to trial in Prussia
for any crime committed on the habita
ble globe. The local courts did not
negative this extraordinary claim of
jurisdiction, but the attorney general
and secretary of state at Washington
held that such a claim on the part of a
foreign government could not be recog
nized. It was necessary for the pursu
ers of Vogt to resort again to the device
of detaining him by means of civil or
ders of arrest.
Meanwhile, a treaty between tlie Bel
gian government aud the Uioted S ates
was negotiated and ratifi and. It contains
a retroactive clause, obviously framed
especially to fit the case of Vogt. Un
der it new proceedings were instituted.
They and ragged along for months and
have ended with the embarkation of
yesterday. Vogt had been in the Tombs
aud Ludlow-street jail four years and a
half. When first arrested he was a
fine-looking, robust young man. He
goes away gray and wrinkled, with a
fair prospect of ending bis days in
prison, because the B Igian penalty for
his crime, if be is guilty, is imprison
ment for life. His mistress, with a babe
now two years old, is left destitute, and
has subsisted for a long time mainly
upon the charity of her countrymen.
The stocks and bonds are left for the
lawyers to quarrel over. —New York
Sun.
Scnoon Ginns’ Attire.—' The Phila
delphia Inquirer says : Time was when
school girls wore school-dresses, plain,
substantial, and inexpensive, but of late
years the desire to surpass each other in
dress has taken the place of the old
fashioned scholar’s ambition to excel in
study, and school toilets have become
elaborate aud rich accordingly. Some
of the most costly and elegant costumes
to be seen on the street are those worn
by the pupils of fashionable seminaries.
Silks and laces made up in the latest
mode ; the finest kid gloves, fresh every
dav; the daintiest bonnet *, trimmed
with exquisite French flowers, are the
only things tit to be seen in. As to de
laine, calico, and ginghams, even the
poorest girls attending public schools
male to feel ashamed to wear them.
We are pleased to note that excesses in
this direction have led to reaction, and
at the eomingcommenct men's in several
of the best schools in the country the
young ladies will apper in simple, inex
pensive toilets. So excellent a fashion
should be largely followed.
When' they build a railroad, the first
thing they do is to break ground.
This is often done with great ceremony.
T ten they break the stoo .holders.
This is done without ceremony*
EASTMAN TIMES.
RATES OF ADVERTISING:
bfack. 1 ni. Bm. 6m. 13m.
On** square $ 4 (H) f ] DC 110 (K) $ 1A (10
Two squares ti 25 12 00j 18 00 25 00
Four squares 9 7ft 19 00l 28 00 89 0®
One-fourth col 11 ftOi 22 60t . 34 00 4fl 09
Ono-half col 20 00 32 60! 6ft 00 80 00
Oik* column 3ft 00 f.O 00 80 00 130 M
Advertisements inserted at the rate off 1.60 j>r
square for the first insertion, and 75 cents for each
subsequent one. Ten lines or less constitute a
square.
ITofesslonal cards. $ 15.00 jmr annum; tor all
months, f 10.00, in advance.
SAYINGS AND DOINGS.
Serenade. —
I sang ray lovo: “Come down, come down
Ami sail the crinkled river !”
She sent to me a skree/.v frown
That put me in a quiver.
I swirled and screoled : “Oli, pray, my love,
dome sail the acroonehy water!”
Bhe flightered wildly, like a dove,
Aud in my boat I caught her.
The report that the princess of Wales
was' “losing her hearing” was only a
cockney perversion. She lost an ear
ring.
They say of Florida that the water is
so dose to the surface that you may
dig down anywhere two feet deep and
go a tisliiug.
“ I ton't think you were born to re
form the world,” said a married Boston
lady to the now par-tor, who was iucliued
to praise her beauty rather to * warmly.
Sherman expects to make sT>u,ooo out
of his book, but what is monoy to a
man when he daren’t move out door;
after dark for fear of being hit with a
club?
A Memphis man has got up at least
once a week for seventeen years to look
for burglars in the house, and though
he lias never found one his wife w®u’t
give up hopes.
“ Weiil., 1 always make it a rule to
tell my wife everything that happens.”
“ Oh, my dear fellow, that’s nothing,”
replied his friend, “I tell my wife lots
of things that never happen tit all.”
The newest sashes are made entirely
of beads worked on black [/run grain
ribbon. They are intended to be worn
with black silk costumes, and although
rather overwhelming and heavy, are cer
tainly very effective and brilliant in
oitber sun or gaslight. The idea, of
course, is credited to Worth. Probably
he never heard of them.
Tourists who have been to Yosumile
valley this season complain bitterly
about the poor accommodations and
petty annoyances. None of file hotels
in the valley are said to be halfway de
cent. Bods are hard as planks, tables
poor, and a couple of waiters for every
one hundred and fifty guests. All the
roads arc toll roads all the trails arc
toll trails, and about all the grazing
ground in the valley has been leased by
the commissioners aud fenced in.
“ Jury,” said a western judge, “ you
kin go out and find a verdict. If you
can’t lind one of your own, get the 011 c
the last, jury used.” The jury returned
a verdict of suicide in the ninth degree.
Four doctors tackled Johnnie
They blistered and they bled hint:
With squills and anti-bilious pills
And ipecac, they fed him.
They stirred him up with calomel,
Aud tried to move bin liver;
But all in vain—his little soul
Was wafted o’er the river.
Jones wont to a theater the other evo-
D : og. The play wan Bud, tin' acting
worse. On all sides .Tone’s friends were
hissing both. “You take it comfort
ably,” said a friend to Jones. “ 1 came
in with a pass, aud I don’t feel at lib
erty to express an adverse opinion,”
was the reply. Presently, however,
Jones rose, hurriedly, indignation in
every lino of his face. “By Jove, l
must go out aud pay ! ” ho exclaimed.
Couscious follow, Jones.
About the first thing a woman docs
in a moving is to cut her finger, and
every object sue wishes to call your at
tention to is pointed out with a hand
that is covered by a half pound of
carpet rags, and smelling strong enough
of arnica to knock over a stable boy.
The injury is sometimes caused by
closing her eyes when she is about to
strike a nail, but is most frequently
done in taking up tacks with a limber
case knife.
“So, I don’t want any more of your
lightning rods,” said a Kentucky bir
mer, last week, to a man who had stop
ped at his house to put up patent
lightning conductors. 41 1 aiu t afraid
of lightning, it’s the thunder I believe’*
going to knock ns endwise, some day.’’
“You don’t seem to comprehend,” said
the pedlar; "these ero silver-lipped
rods are lightning rods, and the gold
tipped ont s are thunder rods just
what you want,” aud he persuaded the
old man in ordering up tho gold-tipped
rods.
The potato bug is a haul shelled,
striped insect, nearly twice as large as
the “lady-bug,” with a yellow and
black spotted head, six legs and a ye!
low and black striped armour,
native of Colorado, whence its name of
Colorado beetle. It was first seen feed
ing on a wild potato, but when tho sei -
tiers introduced the domestic* potato
the bug attacked it at once. It breeds
prodigiously, the female laying from
700 to 1,200 eggs, which batch in abmit,
six davs, and immediately begin work,
which last for nineteen days.
Not very long since, the wife <u 1
Agassiz rose one morning and p">-
ceeded, according to custom, to put <n
her stockings and shoes, Ma < i
stage of this process a little scream at
tracted the Professor’s attention, ami
not having yet risen, ho leaned anx
iously upon his elbow, inquiring what
was the matter. “Why, Professor, a
little snake has just crawled out of my
boot,” she said. 4 ‘ Only one, my dear,
returned the Professor, calmly Jy’K
down again; “there should have been
three.” He had put them there to
keep them warm. 1 leaf ant man to
have in the house, particularly in ones
sleeping room.
Sometime during the last years ol "is
life the late John Quincy Adams wrote,
beneath a portrait of himself, some
lines, of which the following is one :
“An age of sorrow and a life of storm.
These words were not written by a
wretched outcast, dying in 'be poor
house, but by one of the marked favo
rites of external fortune. I he late
Harrison Gray Otis, in a public speech
of his later days, said: ”As 1 look
back over my existence I see a pathway
of mingled roses and thorns ; but tho
roses have long since disappe-ired, and
the thorns only remain.” This was the
confession of a man who had everything
that almost every numan being of ovu*
generation thinks worth having, and is
striving distractedly to get—healfcli,
strength, beauty, grace, eloquence, cul
ture, popularity, eight hundred thou
sand dollars, a palace on tho mot ex
quisite spot in Boston, and a United
States senatorship.