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F. R. FILDES, Editor.
VOL. VI.
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Cortical.
Stand or.
J Twas but a breath—
And yet a woman's fair name wilted,
Aud friends once warm grew cold and stilted;
And life was worse than death.
One venomed word,
That struck t« coward poisoned blow,
In craven whispers, hushed and low'—
And yet the wide world heard.
Twas hut one whisper-one
That muttered low for very shame,
That thing the slanderer dare not name.
And yet ife> work was done.
A hint so light.
And yet so nii>.ln\ in its power,
A human soul in one short hour.
Lies crushed beneath its blight.
Kiss Me, ffla urn .
Kiss those lids before they close
In their silent, soft repose—
That the li tie life may seem
blissful, us an angel's dream.
And too soon, the rose will fade,
And the sun’ight sink in shade,
And the bright stars disappear
With each quickly fleeting year.
Mayhap on that lovlit brow.
(All so bright and joyous now)
Ere another sun go down.
Willspmk.e an immortal crown.
And the little lips w e press,
With a silent soft caress,
Rack to ours, may send no thrill;
Lovely, yet so cold, so still.
See yon mother bending low
O'er that little couch of snow-!
Flmderingly she moans and weeps,
Rut the babe u&COOCtons sleeps.
Sleeping, heedetb not those cr es,
Wreaking pity from the skies,
For those lit’le ears are deaf,
Hushed the once soft-sighing breath,
Then dash care from off thy brow!
Kiss it gently, mother, now;
Let no bit er tears be shed
For neglects above thy head.
fjjiscdtoncouis.
Scene in a Jury Room.
A THRILIING BT' RV.
I once had the extreme comfort of
leaving- my business to serve upon “the
jury.” I pleaded in all manner of ways
lor release, but to no effect. I could
not swear that I w. sand nf, nor blind,
nor yet non ronipof but I did tell them
that I had already formed an opinion.
They asked mo if my opinion would
prevent mo from receiving the testimony
in good faith and rendering a verdict
according to it. I replied that of course
1 should weigh the evidence carefully,
and be governed by it. I was then in
formed that I “would do.”
The case to be tried was one of arson
•—then a capital offence—and the pris
oner at the bar a yoang man named
Charles Arnbold, whom I had known
from my boyhood, and who was natu
rally one of lire finest youths of the town
Where lie resided. lie had a widowed
toother, who depended upon him for sup
port, and his circle of friends was large
and choice. I was morally certain (that
lie did not commit the crime, and hence
1 am sure, those who were friendly to
him cot me on the panel, and had me
retained.
The trial commenced and we twelve
toen took our seats in the jury box. I
had a very respectable set with me—
only there was one man whom I did not
like to see there. This man was Afoul
ton Warren. lie was a dark-faced,
sinister looking fellow—at least to me
1 know that young Ambold had one fault.
He had recently been addicted to diink,
and been known to visit disreputable
houses. It was -one of those houses
that had been burned, for setting fire to
which he bad been apprehended.
Now I had often tried to persuade
Charles Ambold fr. m the course he was
pnrsueing. He lad repeatedly prom
ised me that lie would reform, and as re
peatedly lie had broken away. I had
often talked to him of h s poor mother
aittil he had wept like a child; but the
effect was not lasting. There was a
power of temptation more effective than
a»y influence I could wield. He would
fall away imo the evil companionship,
and for a while his manhood was gone.
One or two abandoned women had gain
ed great power over him, and upon them
he wasted much of his substance.
And I know that this very man who
was now on the jury—this Moiilteu War
ren—was the one who had done more
than all others to lead the poor youth
aw y. It was Warren who had drank
with him, and who had lead him away
to those nu st abominable haunts of sin
and pollution. Why was he upon the
jury? I could only account for it on
the ground that Charley still supposed
him to be his friend. The poor sehorch
i>d insect was still ign- rent of the flame
which schorched him. Uo really be
lieved that MuiiUan Warren was his
friend.
The trial commenced. The indict
ment set forth that Charles Ambold had,
“with malice aforethought,” and with all
s >rts of wicked and felonious intents,
set fire to a certain dwelling house,
thereby endangering human life. This
dwelling, as I have already intimated,
was a low sink of iniquity where the
abandoned of both sexes wore wo it to
Congregate, and where the youthf.l
prisoner had spent most of his time.
The evidence for the prosecution came
on, and I was startled. One after
another gave in their testimony, some of
them very reluctantly, and I was fright
ened when I saw how plainly it all poin
ted to the prisoner as the guilty party.
Several credible witnesses swore that
they had heard him threaten to burn the
house down. Then came several wit
nesses—three ol them prominent citi
zens—who saw him lurking about the
premises on the night of the fire
With regard to provocation on the
prisoner’s part, it was proved upon his
own admission, that lie had been ill
treated there and that he hud sworn to
have revenge. And furthermore, it was
proved that 1 e had been beard to 'say
that his salvation of soul and body de
pended upon the destruction of that
house. Next came more testimony
stronger still.
The fire had been set in I ho back base
ment nom where shavings and other
stuff for kindling were kept. Entrance
had btrn paired through a back win
dow, which had pat tly been pried open
with a knife. This basement wall was
brick, and beneath tti • sash was the
blade of a knife which had bten broken
off trying to raise the sash. The b’ade
was recognized as belonging to the
prisoner's knife. A maker of cutlery
had made a knife to order for Ambold
only a few months previous, and he
knew the blade at once, and swore to
it.
But this was not all. The fire had
been evidently set on first to the sha
vings that lay on the stone floor, but
piled up against the wooden partition.
The floor was damp, ands me of tin
outer shavings even, were not wholly
burned up. But just at the edge, where
the fire commenced, lay a piece ofpaper,
rolled up, and about half burned, and
from the manner in which it lay, it was
evident that the (ire had been set with
it. This piece of rolled paper had been
ignited by a match, a number of which
were scattered around, and as soon as it
was on fire it had been laid upon the
floor, with the burning end just in the
shaving. Os course these shavings
were in a blaze instantly; but the p per
torch being on the damp stones, had not
burned wholly np.
And this paper was found to be part
of a leiter belonging to the prison! r.
A letter which he had received from a
friend of his (and a friend of mine), only
a week before. That friend had to
come forward and swear that piece of
charred paper was a part of a letter be
had written to the prisoner. Tnis friend’s
name was Stephen Grant. He was a
young merchant, and the letter had been
written for the purpose of inducing Am
bold to reform. Stephen tried hard to
avoid testifying, for he knew as othcis
did that the fire must have been set with
that identical paper; but he was sum
moned, and he could not deny his own
chirography.
The case looked dark. Many witness
es were wil'ing to testify (o the prison
er’s good qualities, hut no one could
swear that he was not dissipated and
and gradid. That house had been to him
indeed a region internal. Its destruc
tion cried out for his bodily life; and its
existence had long been eating away
Ids soul. Poor Charley ! I had before
been sure of his innocence; but now I
could inly shake my head aui pity him.
Finally he was allowed to speak f r
himself. He said he was innocent ol i
the crime imputed to him. lie said he j
had threatened to burn that house down j
that he said about ail that had been ;
sworn to. He was not ten rods off:
when the flames burst forth, and he was j
one of the first to give the alarm. Ho :
had uttered otic cry of fire when lie no
ticed where the flames must have origi
nated, and the thought came to him if he j
was found there he might be suspected ,
of having set the fire, so be ran away, j
HERE SHALL THE PRESS THE PEOFLS'S RI3HTS MAINTAIN, UNAWED ST FEAR AND UNBSIBED BT GAIN.
QUITMAN, GEO., MARCH 17. 1871.
Ho also said that three hours before the
fire lie had been robbed in that house. I
His pockets had been emptied of every |
tiling in them, and his pocket-book, con
turning forty dollars in money ands no
valuable papers, hid been taken. lie
had gone there on the night of the fire
to try and persuade them to give him
back his money and papers —or at h ast
to get what lie could. When lie got
there, lie saw a man go in whom he did
not wish to see, so lie had hung around,
waiting for him to depart, lie was
around by the back of the building once
—and that was before the lire broke out.
lie knew nothing—nothing. Ho clasp
ed his hands, and with his tearless eyes
raised toward heaven, he called on God
to witness that ho was innocent!
1 have told you that 1 knew him well
1 knew him so well that from that mo
ment I knew him to bo innocent. 1
know his very soul—l knew how free
and open it was—ah, how sinfully so!
1 knew there was uo falsehood ill the
story he told us.
“My boy is innocent! My boy is in
nocent!”
I heard the cry—and I saw an old
woman sink back into the arms of a
male companion. It was his poor moth
er. llor heart was well nigh brokt n
Yet 1 siw that all ibis had but little ef
fect up ui ti e mass of spectators. The
prisoner’s course of dissipation; his ma
ny threats against tho house, and the
very fact of his having been robbed and
abused there were heavy against him.
The counsel for the prisoner made his
speech, which was labored and haul.
Ho was foolish enough to intimate that
if It s client was around at the back ol
the house more than once, he must have
been intoxicated. In short his plea had
betti i been left out. The evidence he
c mid not shake, and he did all lie could
to suppose evidence, some of it most ab
surd and ridiculous. 1 afterwards learn
ed tlial Moulton Warren engaged that
lawyer for the youthful prisoue;! The
government a torney made his plea. It
was plain, straight-forward and very
conclusive.
The Judge finally gave his charge,
lie was fair and candid, lie reviewed
the evidence carefully, and pointed out
sneli as boro heavily upon the case, lie
told us if there was a lingering doubt in
our minds wo must give the prisoner tlio
benefit of it. But 1 could plainly see
that there was no doubt in bis mind.
We—the jury—were conducted to our
room by an officer, and there locked up.
A silence of some minutes ensued.
Moulton Warren was the first to speak.
“Well" he said, “I s’poso there’s no
need of our bein’hero a great while..
Os course we must all know that the
prisoner must have set fire to the house?’
There was something jin the manner
of that man as he said this, which exci
ted my curiosity—l wont say it was sus
picion then—only curiosity. lie spoke
with a forced effort at calmness which I
at once perceived. The more I looked
at him the more 1 became strongly ner
vous and uneasy, wondered why he
should he so anxious to get rid of the
ease and have Ambold convicted. 1
knew that lie frequented that evil house,
and that he had done much toward
tempting Charley to dissipation. I
knew that he was in lliat house on the
night on which the prisoner was robbed;
for Charley had told me so when I vis
ited him in the cell. 1 had then asked
the unfortunate youth if lie was sure
Warren was his friend. 0, ho was
sure of it. He should have hunted him
up on the night of his robbery, only they
told him that Warren had gone.
By-and-by, the for man proposed that
we should each take a piece of paper
aod write down our opinion, arid then
compare notes. I went to my lint, Umt
I had placed upon the table with a num
ber of others, and took out a sheet of
paper. 1 had got half way hack to tin
table when I noticed that I had made a
sad mistake, for I found 1 had got part
of a letter from another mans hat. 1
was about to run back, when the name
j of the writer of the letter arrested my
attention. I looked more closely, an I
read—“ Stephen Grant.” Next I caught
this sentence:
“And now, and ar Charles, if not for
your own sake, for your mother’s sake,
let me hope you will do better.”
I started as though a shot had struck
me. I held in my hand the other half
of the shoot that had been used to fire
the burned house! I went to the table,
and found that 1 had taken it fr* m War
ren’s hat! I lo* ked to see if I had been
observed—and I had not. I put tlie
paper buck, and t! en took a piece from
my own l at which was of the same pat
tern as the other, and by its side.
I returned to the table and sat down.
Warren was by my side. He ha 1 writ
ten his opinion, and took a knife to cut
it from the laige sheet.
“Let me take your knife a moment, if
[you please,” I said to him.
\\ ilhout he&italkm he did bo, t took
it —it was Charles Arnbold’s knife!—the
large blade was gone! With all the
power I possesscJ J restrained my deep j
emotions; and having cut my pa, or,
hrindod back the knife.
Why should ho have that, knife so
| b *ld!y about him I afterwards learned.
He I ad in t worn these pantaloons be
fore since the night of the fir ’; and now
he used the knife probably without the
lea t remi'inberenoo ol the loss it had
sustained during a very peculiar piece of
work, to the execution ol which it was
made subservient,
We talked for some ten minutes, and
1 lon* and that eleven of the jury were bent
on rendering a verdict * f guilty; recom
m nding the prisoner to mercy. Moulton
Warren was decided, lie had uo mer
cy at all.
Presently I started up, and pretending
| to bo faint, 1 Bsid 1 o ust go out for a
| few mom mts. 1 kicked at the door and
the deputy slier.lT came. He heard my
plan and lei me out. As soon as we had
got a sale distance, I told him all. lie
was astonished and went away; writer.
! lie came back he brought the district
| attorney and the sheriff. I told him a
! gain what 1 had seen—l assured them
j that 1 knew that it was no im re suspi
cion. And 1 explained, ten, Warren’s
i minin'rs in the jury imo-ii, and his for
j nier connections with the prisoner, and
hi* known cliara ter.
i The officers weut away, arid at the end
of ten minutes they returned, a emsta
be added to ti e r number, and this con
| stable had a freshly- written instrument
lin In’s hand. The sheriff bade me to
point out the hat to them as soon as lie
enter'd the room. The sheriff took it
and asked wlufte it was. Warren leap
ed lo his feet and seized it, but was held
back.
Word was instantly sent to the judge
that the jury could not agree. They
I were discharged, and then Moulton War
renjwas searched. The knife found up
* e him and his behavior at once exposed
his guilt. The presence of that letter
was accounted for by him in a dozen dif
ferent ways within an hour.
Anew jury was impaunelled, and
Chuiles Ambold was acquitted. Short
ly afterward Warren was ti "and. It was
plainly proved that the woman who kept
| the house was to have been burned up in
j it, as he contrived to lock her into her
I room shortly after setting fire. She had
| incurred his displeasure in several ways,
; ami this was his revenge. Not only she,
but two of her girls had suspected him
from the first, but they dared not corn
plain, for fear lie would be sure to mur
| dor them.
Tie h irilen ‘d villain confessed Ids
guilt after he had been condemned, and
then it was that he told how lie happen
ed to he so careless in legard to the pa
per and the knife. It was he who had
ro! hi and Ambold, and when he took the
old letter in m Ids hat to use it for a
torch in sett ng the fire, he did not no
tice what it was, and even whin that
partly burin and half had been exhibited in
court, he had entirely forgotten that he
had torn >ff the oilier half and put it
hack into his hat, as he must to have
done. The letter had been found in
Ambold’s pocket-book, and lie had kept
it because in it the youth was warned
against his i fluenco. He c< nfessed l.e
had a slight idea of calling the writer to
an account wl en it should become con
venient. Willi regard to the knife, it
was as I have before stated. He took
that also from Ambold's pocket, and pet
it in his own; and on the night o! the fire
he used it to pry np the sash, and when
ho had broken it he put it back in his
pocket, and lorgot it.
Thus was Charley saved—and saved
from more than ignominious death, too.
lie was saved to be a noble, viitnous
man; and his mother once rn re took
ample delight and joy in the love and
tender care of her only child.)
When C:.aides Amb.dd knew that
Moulton Warren had expatiated his
crimes upon the gallows, he sat down
and pondered upon his p si life. The
thoughts ot Ids old eo:,:| ;o: : on being
hangid rent a strange thrill through his
frame. But lie was able to truce nut
clearly and logically, this terrible re
sult from the course of life the ill-fated
man had pursued. He shuddered as he
remembered how far he had gone in the
same course hiupclf; and he was able to
see the only safe path for any youth.
Not only must lie shun temptation—not
only keep clear of even the appearance
of vice—hut, above all, must he shun e
vil Oi mpanionsi.ip. A youth may make
al! the good rcsolutio 8 thought can af
ford, but if he c utilities one evil cotn
panionship, he is not saf !
Live VViiiiin jour uiemts.
We don’t like stinginess. We don’t
like economy, when it comes d.w n to
fags and siarvatii n . We have no sym
pathy with a notion lliat a poor man
should hitch himself fust to a post, and
siand still while the ii'.-t of the world
moves forward It i.; no man’s duty to
d'-riy bine elf every amusement, etcry
recreation, every comfoit, that he may
get rich It is no man’s duty to make
an iced of himself, to shut his eyes
and ears to the sufferings of his fellows,
and dey himself the enjoyment that re-
Mills from generous actions, merely that
lie may hoard wealth for his heirs to
quarrel about. But tlieie is an econo
my which is every man's duty, and
which is especially commendable in the
man who struggles with poverty—an c
c 'tiomy which is consisient with happi
ness, and must be practised if the poor
man won and secure independence. It is
almost every man’s privilege, and it he
c im a liis duty, to live within his nv'ans
not up to but within them. Wealth
does not make the man, we admit, and
should never be taken into account in
our judgment of men; but competence
should always be secured, when it can
be, by the practise of economy and self
d nial, to only a tolerable extent, ll
should be secured, not so much for oth
ers to look upon, or raise us in the esti
mation of others, but to secure the con
seioiism ss "f Independence, and the con
stunt sat’slaetion which is derived from
its acquirement and possestion.
A Ricii Juke.
A Parkersburg paper says that sever
al m mb ts of the Legislature took the
cars at Grafton late one evening for
Wheeling, and among the number wa
il Mr. G., ofs'.mewhal proportions phys
iually, and a Air. I)., of proportions un
dersize.
These two—the stalwart Mr. 0. and
the smooth faced little Mr. I).—took a
b. rib together, it seems, in a sleeping
car. The little man laid behind, and
the good natured, wagish Mr. O. before.
Mi. D. was soon sleeping and snoring
furl titdy. Air. G., more restless under
his legislative burdens, s ion rose, and
was sitting by the stove, when an elder
ly lady came aboard and desired a berth.
“All right, madam,’said G., “I took a
berth w ith my sou, and you can occupy
my place in that berth where my little
son is sleeping.”
Taking Air. G. at his word, the lady
disrobed and laid down with the boy.
After a quiet repose for some time, the
boy, Mr. I)., became restless from some
cause, and began to kick around, to the
annoyance of the old lady, so, in a moth
erly in.inner, she patted him on the back,
and said:
“Liestill, sonny, pa said 1 might sleep
along with you.’
“Thunder and lightning,” cried the
1 gis'atoi ; “who are you? lam no boy,
I. am a member ol the West Virginia
Legislature!’
It is said that the old lady swooned,
and could not be brought to till 1). prom
ised that G. should he impeached.
I). swears that things shall not rest
here.
What action the Legislature will take
for the purpose of protecting its own and ig
nity remains to be seen.
A Fihh Story.
Nashville glories in a fishstory, which
is a fish story and no mistake. A sports
man coming down the Cumberland Riv
er on a (iatboat, floating lazily with the
current, shot a pair of shell bill ducks.
They were large, and in such excellent
condition that the slayer of them de
termined to present them to a friend.
They were received with many thanks/
but in dressing them the cook was fur
nish'd with a surprise. In opening the
inale, which weighed tour and a hall
pounds before being dressed, Dinah
stumbled upon a largo object, which
proved to be a drumfUli “twelve inches
in length, and big in proportion.” The
discovery was C'-mmuiiicated to the
master ot the house, wheat once sum
moned his neigtd'ois to witness the
anomaly with their own eyes. By actual
measurement, the fish was two inches
I ngt r than the duck, and yet the duck
swallowed the fish, and not the fish the
duck. It was a fine fish, and the indi
cations were that it had been in the
craw of the duck several days; when
first swallowi and, eminent calculators es
timate it innsi have weighed at least
one pound and a half. How comforta
ble that duck nmsl have felt with a din
tier in him long* r than himself, and equal
to mere than one third of his gross
weight ! It w s a big fi.-l, to cwuilow.
and some of our readers may fin I it hard
to swa'low the slojv; nevertheless we
are solemn'y assured that it is solemnly
lrue. Field and Farm.
The Cheap Elephant.
At the public sale of a menagerie,
lately held at Trenton, New Jersey, an
elephant was nut up to tlm highest bid
der, and, as no one ticoJcu him, was just
about being “knocked down” by the
aationcer lor a very small sum, w hen u
by stander resolved to purchase the
monster himself rather tlian lose sucti a
baigain. ‘ Why. its the cheapest thing
1 ever heard o! ! he exclaimed gleefully
when after adding ‘an ’al’ lo the few dol
lies already ff-.-red, he was declared to
lis the purchaser, ‘i’ll put tire creature
in my barn fr a day irsi, and make a
good thing "f it I’ So (hat night Alasler
Elephant was tied in the barn—a pretty
rlroug barn it was, too—and towards
morning lie anins and lilms- If by trying to
brake it to pieces. He sueceded so well
in this little piece of playfulness that it
was fuund necessary to put him in a
[52.09 per Annum
NO. 11
stronger building, That night he again
became restless, broke his fastenings and
dashed around at such a rate that the
barn was Sion one of the most thorough*
!y ventilated buildings in America. The
total extent of the and image done in the
two nights was five hundred dollars; and
it is currently reported that somebody
is extremely tired of Ins bargain, and
advises all his friends never on any ac
count, to be tempted to buy a cheap el
ephant. The rule is a safe one to fol
low ; never to buy aiiyttiing simply be
cause it is cheap.
I’a Ia 1 ism Ii 1 ust vat ed.
A hardshell Baptist minister, living
somewhere on the frontiers of Missouri,
was in the habit of saying to his family
and to his church : Friends, jou need
not take any unusual cure about your
lives; the moment of your death was
writ before the foundation of the world/
and yon'ean not alter it.
Ills wife observed when he left on Sat
urday lo meet one off his frontier mis
sionary engagements that ho dressed the
flint of his riilo with unusual ear l , put
in dry powder, tresli tow, and took eve
ry pain to make sure that the gun would
go "Iff in case became upon an Indian.
It struck her one day as she saw hint
ill the saddle, with his rifle on his shoul
der, tl at his conduct contradicted hid
teachings, and she said to him, Aly dear,
why do you take this rifle with you? If
it was writ before the foundation of the
world that you were to he killed during
this trip by an Indian, that rifle won’t
provent it; and if you are not to be kill
ed of course the rifle is unnecessary; fra
why take it with you at all?
Yes, he replied, to be sure, my dear, of
con rse you are all rigid, and that is a
very proper view; but see here, my dedr
—to be sure—but then—suppose I should
meet an Indian while I am gone, and his
time had come, and I hadn’t my rifle
with me what would he do? Yes my
dear, we must all contribute our part
toward the fulfillment of the decrees of
Providence.
ONLY A SHADOW.
A story is told of a well known gcri-»
tlem in, who sometimes imbibes toofioe
ly of the ardent, going home at night
recently, and mistaking his shadow/
out-'.iued outlie front d«or, for a man.
lie paused a little in surprise, and then/
lifting his hat very graceiully hade him
a good evening.
“Avery pleasant evening,” said the
gentleman.
No reply.
"This is my house, I believe,” he said,
waving his hand.
The hand of the shadow weut through
the same graceful curio.
“1 should like lo get in, sir, if you’ll
stand aside,” but the bhadow made no
movement tj let him pass.
The gentleman was evidently surpris
ed. lie repealed his desire to pass in,
hut the shadow lemuined still.
liis wife hearing her husband's voice/
looked through the window blind, ami
seeing no one hut himself, asked why
he didn’t come in.
“So I would, my dear, but this gen
tleman” (pointing to the shadow) “in
sists on blocking up the door.”
His wife quietly opened the door, re
muiking, “that was your shadow.’’
“Indeed,’ said the puzzled citizcnj
“well, now, I thought ho was a mighty
fine-looking follow to be so impolite,”
and went in.
Whenever ho shows a disposition tuf
remain out late at night his wife has
only to remind him of the shadow oil
the doorstep to insure a speedy re
turn.
A Urutul Ltiw.
The New York Tribune says: Pliaro-*
ah was always supposed to have found
out a rather rough way of checking the
| siipcfluons pauper populali m when he
"rd-red the midwives to choke off every
Hebrew male child that found its un
lucky way into the world; but John Hull
has taken the hint from him and iin’--
proved on it. It appears Umt tie low
er class of women (British subjects) in
Gibraltar are largely inter-irtarriel with
Spaniards, and, to prevent the increase
ol “aliens,” any such' Woman On being
f.und oncicnte is driven by law off the'
Rock, to take refuge in Spain, Alorocfio',
or the sea, which she pleases; and us the
women are, os a lule, wretchedly poor,
one refuge is as short a road usually tef
the grave as the other. In ease of disre
gard of this statute, the husband and
wives are instantly banished from the
city, their homes broken up, and in hv.i
ny cases starvation ensues. BisLopr
Seamlel’a reports, during tli • last year,
“many hundreds of families foully wrong
ed by tins law,” and in cuftseqtn bee (it
it, the m ini go ceremony bus come to ba
ahn 'st given up among ibis class; aid.
; oil the other hand, idfaiits b ru in secret
| are dosti ojed 1 y their parents to insure
their own s J'ty.” We hate not y< t
| l ea'd wb t‘ er the English Government
means to tiy t is experiment, ifsnC
l cesslul, on a liifgc scale at home ofi Us
| pauper overplus/