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Harvesting. BT MART & LADD. The little birds sang and the o-chard a rang With their cheerful notea, and the §ucg’iine_lin- ] gered O’er the bending lea, on ahrub and tree. With yellow feet—and dewy Angered. And down the lane the loaded wain Came lumbering on, and the girls came alter, With tumbled hair, ‘round faces fair, With childlike glee and merry langtater. Young farmer Blake took the tiny rake t From the little hands of Jessie Perry ; While with look askanco and aideloag glance, At their expense the rest made merry. And Jessie, in pride, left young Blake’s side. And tos3ed her bead in a manner haughty; But he whistle 1 a song and sauntered along. Though dearly he loved this maiden naughty. The ripened g-aln they took from the wain, And heaped in the birn. now running over With the weight it bore of the garnered store, With its new mown hay and fragrant clover. And down by the well, It there befell. While the horses drank of the cooling water. In the pale twilight, all was made aright Ttfixt Blake and Jessie, the farmer’s daughter. THE LAST FRINGE OF SONDE/ A True Romance. From Appleton’s Journal. Looi.s Phillippe had sat upon the throne vacated by his distant kinsmnu, Charles X., a few days more than o month. With his amia ble wife and his interesting yonng family of children, he had jast transferred his household penates from the elegant apartments of the Palais Koyal to the more splendid saloons and cabinets of the Tuileries. A little more than a month before he had been a private noble man, living with comfort, but scarcely with luxury, alternately at the Palais Royal and at -his country retreat; now he was the bourgeois sovereign, the king of the middle classes, and the founder of a new royaly dynasty. The king had just breakfasted on the morn ing of August 27, 1830, when it was an nounced to him that a mounted messenger had arrived in haste from Chantilly with in telligence of serious importance. The man was forthwith admitted to the presence of Louis Phillippe, with whom were one or two ministers, his secretary, and the young Dakes of Chartres and Nemours, his sons. “Sire,” said the messenger, “his highness, the Prinee of Conde, is dead.” The king ro6e in surprise, and asked: “When did that happen ? * “He was found this morning, sire, hanging to one of the shutters of his bed-room win dow by his handkerchief, quite dead.” “What! did he commit suicide ? ” “It must have been so, your majesty. There are no traces of fool play.” “ This was at Chantilly ? ” “At Chantilly.” “And who were in the house? ” “A small party of the Prince’s friends, sire, and Madame de Feucheres. That is all.” Louis Phillippe turned to M. Goillanme, his secretary, and requested him to proceed, with Messrs, de Rumigny, Pasquier, De Si- monville, and Cauchy, to the Chateau of Chantilly. Next in blood relationship to the deceased Prince were the Princes de Rohan; but the king either did not think, or did not see fit to send them a notification of the sad event. ^ The strange news soon spread through Paris, extended to the boulevards, to the Champs Elysees, to the aristocratic Faubourg St-Germain, and even to the remote, irregu lar streets and squalid closes of Montemartre and St-Antoine. Salons and cabarats, cafes, and the coulisses of the theatre, were in a hubbub of amazement and conjecture over the mysterious occurrence; for the old man whose sadden and singular taking-off thus stirred the Pai i fan world throughout that and many subsequent days, was the last of an illustrious line, wifeless and childless, dwell ing almost solitary in the ancient and spacious chateau, where the splendor ol the Condes had rivaled, in more than one generation, that of Bourbon royalty itself. Had the poor old prince, heart-broken at the down-fall ot the Heavei anointed king, sought comolat.on in death ? Had his mind given away, and thus led to an irresponsible suicide ? Or was this the work of an assassin, perhaps of some familiar of his household, of some pretended friend, who had some secret motive for de priving him of existence ? The many conjectures which swayed hither and thither the groups of excited gossipers, did not stop short with these vague question ings. King Louis Philippe had not won his crown by the unanimous voice of Paris; and there were thousands in the capital who. within a month of his accession, were bitterly disaffected against him. The partisans of Charles X. and those of a republic were equally exasperated; and any hinted taint upon the king’s character apart, was sure to be caught up and eagerly repeated, and to find Us way in exaggerated rumor to every quarter of the city. There were knowing bon brow and eye, and the hereditary haughty gait and aquiline nose of the Condes. The prince, the father, was now too old and feeble to take an active part in the hoc struggle which ensued between the allied German armies on the one side and the forces of the new-born republic on the other; but Louis, inspired by family pride and patrician zeal, became one of the many aristocratic emi grants who took, service under the banners of I the Hapsburg and Hohenzollern, to fight j against their own countrymen. He recog- L nized in the tricolor the symbol of national \ disgrace, rather than national sovereignty, ; and there seems little doubt, from his subse- ] qnent career, that his motive was as much an ! earnest belief in the right of monarchy and | the abomination of democracy a3 the self- ! interest which resented the persecution cf bis j own family and the deprivation of its estates. ! lie accepted a captaincy in an emigrant regi- I ment, and took a oourageous and ac- i five part in the famous campaign the eastern frontier, in which Dumountz was • the able but unsuccessful leader of the re- j publican forces. Conde, remained with the allies for three years, when, wounded at the assault at Berscheim, he was compelled to re tire trom the service. He lived for some time iu seclusion on the continent, observant though inactive; and in 1800 repaired to England. In the mean time his eldest son— for h6 had married and lost his wife before the Revolution —had grown to manhood, the old prince was dead, and he only awaited a favorable moment to enter into the posses sion of his splendid family estates in France. Bata terrible calamity, blighting his life, and plunging him into a melancholy which seldom afterward disappeared, visited him before he again saw the familiar shores of his native land. His son, the noble and promising young Duke d’Enghein, having been seized at Paris by Napoleon, was ordered by the cruel tyrant to be 6hot without trial as a Bourbon traitor. The youth was taken at dead of thinks there will be no farther supply; be finds Gourville and says to him: M ‘Sir, I shall never anrvive this affront.* “Gourville laughs at him, “Vatcl goes np to his room, places his sword against tho door, and runs it through his heart; but it was only at the third stroke, for he gave himself two that were not mortal, that he falls to the ground dead. “The sea-fish, however, arrive from all sides; Vatel is wanted to distribute them. They go to his room, they knock, they break open the door, they find him bathed in his own blood; they rush to the prince, who is in despair. He mentions it mournfully to the king; they say it is to be attributed to too high a sense of honor, according to his views; they applaud his character; some praise, others blame his courage.” To this beautiful retreat, so redolent of ro mance and former grandeur, the last Prince of Conde retired in the early years ot the resto ration, muttering, “I have lived long enough!'* It might be said that he was alone in the world; for neither wile, nor children, nor near relative had been spared to him. Alone, however, he was not, but worse than alone. Already tho arts of a beautiful, fascinating, and scheming woman had brought him com pletely into subjection to her will, and to this companion, whom he brought with him to Chantilly, where he provided her with a spa cious and splendid suite of apartments, and every luxury which wealth could procure or insatiable vanity demand, he owed, directly or indirectly, his violent death. A mystery always hung, and hangs to this day, over the origin of the Baroness de Feu- cherej. It is certain that she was an Eng lishwoman, the daughter of extremely obscure English parents, who had been brought up in the London streets, and had probably been bom in some low slum of the metropolis. History first finds her on the boards of Co vent-Garden Theatfe—a young and radiantly handsome girl, performing interior parts, and night to the dark ditch of that gloomiest of j seemingly introduced rather on account of fortresses, Vincennes, and there was sacrificed the fascinations of her person than the bril- life of brilliant promise to the intolerant | liancy of her histrionic talents. From the jealousy of the emperor. Tho story is told stage she passed into the ranks of the dimi- in French history; the world groaned at the monde; and, after a feverish career, she suc- crime, and the father was left a lonely and ceeded in captivating the warm heart of the desolate old man. With D’Eogliien expired ; old Prince of Conde. She was also beloved the last hope that the splendid line of Conde | at this time by a gallant and courageous would be perpetuated; the exiled prince be-1 young soldier of France, the Baron de Feu- held in himself the last of the race which i cheres; and he, ignorant of the relations had so long illumined the annals of tho mon- j which existed between the ci-devant actress archy. j and the prince, proposed marriage, was ac- The day of Bourbon retribution came. ■ cepted, and, after a brief delay, led her to tbe Napoleon, scourged at Waterloo, disappeared i altar. HU discovery in her relations with attracted the attention and roased the curi osity of his attendants. On the morning of the 11th his eye was found to be bleeding, and he explained it by saying he had fallen against a table, but afterward said his temple had struck against the door. Events at the chateau increased in mystery until the 26th. On the morning of that day Madame de Feucheres repaired early to the prince’s dressing room, and soon the voices of both were heard, angry and threatening. A sharp quarrel, lasting for some time, en sued, and Madame de Feucheres came out of the room flashed with passion. By dinner time, however, the storm seemed to have passed away. The prince appeared at table, to which a few iutimate friends had been in vited, and was observed to be in unusually good spirits. He laughed and joked, and ate and drank heartily. party repaired to the drawing-room, the whist-tables were wheeled out, and Conde took a baud at tho same table with Madame de Feucheres, play ing with zest till late in the evening, aud talking cheerily throughout. Finally he rose, waved a good-night to each friend with his hand, aud, as he went toward the door, turned and gavo them a cheerful partiug. ** A de- main /” It was the last lime that the last Prince of Conde was seen of men. He was accompanied to his chamber by Bonnie, his doctor, and Lecomte, his valet. It is worth noting that Lecomte, the valet,had been selected for this service by Feucheres, and was at once a spy and a creature of that designing woman. As Lacomte was leaving the chamber, be asked the prince — “At what hour will mouseigaeur rise ? " “At eight o’clock.” * It was now the night of August 26th, and on the 31st Conde proposed secretly to quit the chateau, “to take a long journey,” as he said ; but his real project in taking this step can never be known. A longer journey than he had planned was now iu store for him from the whirlpool of European politics ; Louis XVIII. found himself at last secure on the throne of his father, and among bis first acts was a summons to the faithful no blesse, bo long exiles and wanderers, to return to their estates and resume their titles. Among those who availed themselves of the royal invitation was Louis of Conde. He had left France a stalwart and fiery young man of thirty-three; he returned a grizzled, bent wrinkled old man of sixty. His Paris house, And his chateaux and domains ol Saint- Leu and Chantilly were restored to him, and to these he retired, his spirits too broken, his mind too much engrossed by the sorrows of the past, to take part in tho ceremonies of the court or the politics of the day. In tbe lovely and secluded bourg of Chan tilly were situated his ancestral castles and park. No domain in France is more replete with illustrious and romantic memories, none is more fit to he the house of princes; while, since tho destructive days of tbe first Revolu tion, the sad grandeur of an imposing ruin has been added to the antique picturesque- ness of the spot Earl Stanhope describes its beauties with an enthusiasm which every pilgnm to the home of the great Conde has himself felt, though perhaps not able to give it expression so graceful and eloquent. He says: “ I could still find scope to admire the it, was fully brought out. Even before the prince had been laid in his tomb, however, parties for and against suicide had been formed. Madame de Feucheres vehemently declared that the prince had destroyed him self in a fit of melancholy; the Abbe Briant, her secretary, bustled about tbe house, locked up the prince’s papers, declaring that “every-1 thing here belongs to Madame de Feucheres,” | and the plate was put under the guard of one j of her underlings. It was only at twilight on the day of his death that some pieces of pa- ( per, partly burned, were picked up by the ! fireplace by the king’s secretary. Among the words thus preserved were “The king— I Vincennes — unfortunate bop.” When the bits of paper were put into the hands of the * chief law-officer, he exclaimed, “Here is the j truth !” More being found, there was enough \ writing to show that they were portions ot a letter written by the prince to Madame de [ Feucheres, in the nature of a last will, con- j eluding with a touching postscript to this purport: “I ask that I may be buried at Vincennes, near my unfortunate son.” The funeral services took place at the cha- j teau of Chantilly on the 4th of September, j a week after the tragedy; Conde’s heart was ' deposited in the tomb cf his ancestors, being borne thither in a silver-gilt casket. Tbe Abby Believer delivered the funeral discourse and startled the mourning multitude who gathered around the bier by declaring: “Tho prince is innocent of his death in the sight of God. ” Another and more splendid funeral ensued at tho royal abby of St-Denis the burial place of the kings of Fiance. The body was received at the portals by the abbey priests and canon*; bishops chanted high ' mass; and it was not unobserved that the ; Dukes of Orleaus and Nemours, the two elder sons of Louis Philippe, were present on the ! occasion. Meanwhile, Madame de Feucheres, fearing J the indignation of the people of St.-Lou, bur- j ried away from the chateau with her neice, and susj iciously euough took up her resi N> YORE ADVERTISEMENTS. ENOCH MORGANS 80NS S A P O L I O 8 A P O L I O for cleaning your house will save the labor of one cleaner. Give it a trial. S A P O L 1 O for Windows is belter thau Whiting or Water. No removing curtains and carpets. 8 A P O L I O n’t afford to be without it. 8 A POL I O for Scouring Knives is better and cleaner than Bath Brick. Will not scratch. S A P O L I O is better than Soap and Sand for polishing Tin- ware. Brightens without scratching. 8 A POL I O S A P O L 1 O for Washing Dnhes and Glassware, ia invaluable. Cheaper than Soap. 8 A P O L I O China and Porcelain. S A P () L I O the prince resulted in an open rupture, where on the fascinated old prince openly resorted to Chantilly with hitr beautiful and imperi ous tyrant. Madame de Fencheres was not content with the devoted submission of the paince, his lavish gratification of her every caprice, the splendid luxury with which she was surrounded at the chateau of St.-Leu. No sooner had she got fairly ensconced there than her greed and ambition set to work upon the prince's fondness or fears to acquire for herself a more permanent affluence than she derived from the living prince's generosity. By alternately coaxing, wheedling and threat ening him ; by surrounding him with paid creatures and spies of her own ; by her man ner, attractive alike when it was imperious and when it was fond, she finally induced the poor, jaded old man to make a will by which she would receive at his death, in her own right, the splendid domans of St. Leu and Boissy. This was in 1821, six years be fore the catastrophe of the second revolution. But even this concession did not content her ; indeed, it only whetted her appetite for more. Soon after, she prevailed upon him to devise to her aLo the ancestral forest of F.nghien, from which his unhappy son had taken his HANDS A P O L I O a new and wonderfully effective Toilet Soap, having no equat in this country or abroad. HANDS APOLIO as an article for the Bath, “reaches the foundation” of all dirt, opens the pores and gives a healthy action and brilliant tint to the skin. HANDS A P O L 1 O Cleanses and Beautifies the Skin, in stantly, removing any stain or blemish from bMh hards and face. removes Stains and Grease from Carpets and other woven fabrics. You will like it. .. . ,,. , r .. n , . There is no one article known that will do so Throughout .that warm, bright summer night, deuce at the Palais, on the left bank of the | m kinds of work and do jt we „ $ all was apparently tranquil in and about the i Seine. She appears to have passed a period .• y H old chateau. The night-watch, who patrolled | of fright and torture; her secretary was con- 1 — 5 *—— the terraces outside, from dusk till dawn, j strained to sleep in the library adjoining her heard no sound issue from the vast mansion;, chamber, and Madame de Feassans on a the domestics slept undisturbed in the wing I couch at her bedside. devoted to their lodgings; the guests were | The opening of the prince's will, makiDg j equally unconscious of any unusual event. j the Duke d’Aumale his residuary legatee, and ; The Prince of Conde’s sleeping-chamber ! bequeathing Madame de Feucheres property | was a small but richly decorated apartment, j worth ten million of francs, was followed by on the second story, with a yet smaller dress- the immediate resistance of the heirs of the iDg room leading trom it. Madame de Feu-; house of Conde, the princes Rohan. They cheres occupied a suite of rooms in the story j at once brought a suit in the Court of Pre- below, with her niece, Madame de Feassans. j rniere Instance as heirs-at-law, to dispute the A staircase connected this suite with the ! validity of the will, and recover the prop- prince’s chamber above, and also led from erty which they considered as theirs by in- ihe entrance hall of tho chateau. The prince’s ! hentance. They engaged eminent counsel, apartments opened upon the large central cor-1 and the issue in the suit soon widened from ridor. On the first floor, also, were most ofj the question of the will to that of the mode ! the guest-rooms. of the prince’s death. On the side of D’Au- ' On leaving his master, Lecomte, as usual, 1 male and Feucheres it was pointed out that u a m n ^ Jl \Jr _Li A carefully locked his dressing-room, by which j the prince’s chamber-door had been found j access was to be had to his chamber from the j bolted on the inside; that he had for some : time been subject to fits of desperate melan-! choly; that the doctor, on entering the room, j had overturned a chair so placed that the j u a m n ^4 \ "P O I . 1 () prince might have used it in hanging him- { A !M U XA M. X-i X self; that the fragments of the .burnt i letter indicated suicidal intent; the sig- j nificant manner in which he bade adieu, j not only to the guests, but to the ser vants, on the night preceding his death;, that there was an absence of any marks ot j violence whatever on his body; that it was impracticable for any assassin to reach | his chamber without detection; and that no j sound of the least altercation or struggle had ! been heard throughout the night. On the side of the Kohans, per contra, M. Hennequin pointed out with great force that nothing was , ... ... 4 ... more easy than to bolt a door on the inside | win P rac “ re “ Tor > OM - wr,t corridor, and carried the key away with him. ^Promptly at eight o’clock in the morning of the 27th the valet appeared at the prince’s •door and knocked according to orders, be fore unlocking it. No response was given. Lecomte thought nothing of the circum stance, but thinking the prince still asleep, he went away, to return in half an hour, ac companied now by Coode’s physician. The knock was repeated; there was still tho dead silence. Tho two men became alarmed at this, and hurried around by the large stair case to the apartment of Madame de Feu- cheres. Madame de Feucheres heard their intelligence calmly and said: “I will go up at once. When he hears my voice he will reply. ” All en dishabille as she wa9. she hastened up and began rapping vig- title, and of which she even now demanded orously at the prince’s door. The hollow and received the considerable income. Sue - • sound of the echoed knock—nothing more cess in these efforts finally stimulated her to is without a rival in tbe world for ( lng or preventing roughness and chap ping of either hinds or face. removes Tar, Pitch, Iron or Ink Stains and Grease; for workers in Machine Shops, Mines, Ac., ia invaluable. For making the Skin White and Soft, and giving it a “bloom of beauty.” it is un surpassed by any cosmetic known. handSAP O L I O costs 10 to 15 cents per cake, and every body should have it. DON’T FAIL TO TRY THESE GOODS. Buy It of your Merchant If he has It or wild recesses of that unpruned forest, those : the great plot of her career—a plot which, limpid and gushing streams, those light-green with little doubt, involved the prince’s violent arbele poplara, which have taken root among death, and into which entered, in some mys- the ruins of the Grand Chateau, and which j terious way not yet developed, the family of Orleans, destined so soon to ascend the throne of France. Madame de Feucheres now meditated a deep scheme, by which to retain, after the prince’s death, the vast properties which she had wheedled or browbeaten him into devis now surround it with their quivering shade; those mossy paths and those hawthorn-boughs —those gardens restored with care, and where the most beautiful orange trees and the most brilliant flowers are once more shedding their fragrance.” Chantilly Chateau and forest, im posing and luxurious as they were when the j ing to her. Should he die, she would have to last Conde turned his weary steps thither, were bnt a splendid ruin of their former state. The statues and fountains, the terraces, with their richly carved pedestals, the great canal, the noble old Grand Chateau, where the Grand Monarque wandered as the guest of his great est subject, had disappeared; the vast stables were in complete though imposing ruin; the stately pastures were overgrown, the noble forest was choked with brush. Yet the Chateau of St.-Leu still remained, and was all too large and splendid for the desolate fa ther of D’Enghien; the forest was still unsur passed in beauty and foliage; and princely comfort might still be enjoyed in the spacious gardens and the venerable halls. The old man might sit here and dream of that olden time when his famous ancestor, wearied encounter the rival claims to the estates of the powerful family of Rohan—the prince’s nearest heirs—and it was necessary that she should form an alliance more powerful still. With this view she secretly communicated with the Orleans family. She proposed to the Duchess d’Orleans to persuade the Prince of Conde to adopt the young Duke d’Aumale as his heir; and, in reply to this proposal, the duchess wrote an affectionate letter to this profligate woman, who had hitherto been shunned by the Orleans, and forbidden the entree to the Palais Royal. “I am very much touched, midame,” this royal lady wrote, “by what you tell me ot your anxiety to bring about that result which you look on as likely to falfil the wishes of M. le Due de Bourbon; and, believe me, if I men on tbe boulevards on those August days, ; honor; where the revels rivaled those of Ver- wiih sly looks and wagging heads, who gave j sailles, aud where the Great Conde reigned of “action and renown,” sought the ; have the happiness to find my son become luxurious ease aud retirement of this very j his adopted child, you will receive from us, at spot; whither royalty came to do him \ all times and in all circumstances, that sup- 1 port for you and yours which you are pleased a new torn to the suggestions of the causes of HeDri de Bourbon’s sudden death. • There is something,’! they said, “beneath what appears. There is a darker mystery than you guess. There is a hidden ro- mai.ee behind this death scene. They tell yon that the Prince of Conde loved Charles X. and hates Louis Philippe; that chagrin at the i ill of Charles has caused his death. Y’et, look you, the man who so nates the king that he div s because he is king, bequeaths his im mense properties—his noble Chateau of Chan tilly, with its ample parks and broad acres— to this very king’s infant son. The Duke de Aumale, almost a babe in arms, is the heir of the PriLCi of Conde. Did the old prince love this infant? No. Did he love the infant’s father ? No, he hated him. Here, mes amis, is a deep, deep plot. Madame do Feucheres, depend upon it, is in the confidence of Louis Philippe: and Madame de Feucheres lives in the house of Conde; nay, from the boudoir of Madame de Feucheres to the Prince ot Conde there is a private spiral stair case.” Thus it was covertly charged that Louis Phillippe knew more of the cause of Conde’s death than the world in general imagined; and suspicion was sought to bo thrown upon the king of being implicated in some way in the event, since the king’s son, and the woman who had enjoyed’ Conde’s confidence dating his last years, alone profited by it It was not unknown that Madame de Feucheres had been more than once received privately at the Tnileries since Louis Phillipe’s accession; and it was not less generally believed that, with many virtues, the king was inordinately parsimonious and grasping. His enemies, at least, conclnded that Condes fortune had not been left, without the assistance of some oc cult intrigue, to the son of a man whom he detested from the bottom of his souL The illustrious deseent of the dead prince, the romantic memories and picturesque beau ty of the place where the tragedy occurred, and the singular connection of the newly-en throned family withJConde and with his roya- terioas death, give to the history of the event much more interest than usually attends the stories of the deaths of princes. Louis Joseph Henri de Bourbon was the lineal descendant and heir of that Louis of Conde who, in the seventeenth century, won, by his feats of arms and statesmanship, the title of “the great.” He was born in Paris in 1756, and was thirty-five years of age when the revolutionary States General ot France-as sembled at Versailles. His father, the then Prince of Conde, was a zealous adherent of the royal house, with which he was connected by ties of blood, by patrician interest, and by loyal affection. When the storm burst iu 1730, both sire and son fi&d from their luxu rious home at Chantilly, to sh ire in the vicis situdes of the royalist emigres. The son is described ns having been, at this time, a warm-blocd3d, handsome young man, with tho sallow Bourbon tint and the dark Bour- in the midst of a genial and lavish hospitality. It is said that Louis XIV. was so jealous of Coode’s good fortune in possessing such a re treat, that on one occasion he threatened to seize Chantilly and appropriate it to himself, by virtue of a provision iu the Treaty of the Pyrenees. Conde bowed reverentially, and responded: “Sire, so be it; yon may com- to demand, and of which a mother’s gratitude will be for you a sure guarautee. “ Encouraged by Madame de Feucheres’ rep resentations of the favorable progress of her pressure upon the old prince, Louis Philippe of Orleans—soon to be king—had tho singular indelicacy to go in person to the man who he knew detested him and all his family, aud en treat him to leave his wealth to little Aumale. from the outside; that the position of the ) ^ or 0, “ r Pnm P ,llet * “ All about Sapoiio,” handkerchiefs proved that the prince could J not have been strangled at all; that the j I prince’s feet touched the ground, so that he | | could not possibly have hanged himself, or even handkerchiefs proved that the prince could / it will i»e mailed free. ENOCH MORGAN’S SONS, ad£&-d&w3m 20 PARK PLACE. N. Y. A Pure Stimulant. Century Whisky! ‘Openthe door, monseigneur!" she cried: ‘it is I, Sophie; open the do#r ! ” Tbe noiso of the rapping speedily summon- _ _ . ed the guests and domestics, with terror- been hanged by others where he was found, stricken taces, to the prince's apartments. ' while living ; that his spirits had recovered Lecomte unlocked the dressing room door, i their cheerfulness, and that he had been even and proceeded to that of tho chamber to find , hilarious the night before his death ; that it securely fastened. A sharp knocking here | after reaching his chamber he had pursued i only produced the same result. No slightest ■ his ordinary habits on retiring ; his watch , sound escaped from within. Then two of tho J had been wound up as usual, and carefully' valets were ordered by Madame de Feucheres, : placed in its fob ; his slippers were placed at ■ now deadly pale and leaning upon the Abbe ! the loot of the bed. But there were sigus in Briant, her secretary, to fetch a heavy bar. the bed of some unusual movements, and it ; This was used with immediate effect upon the j appeared that the prince had blown out the | panels, which, giving away, enabled Lecomte j two wax candles, thus, if the partisans of sm- 1 and the doctor to enter the chamber. j cide were right, deliberately putting himself j To the group without, their silence, alter : in the dark before committing the deed. In-, entering the mysterious room, was strangely | ferences were added to these arguments by - protracted. They found it, in truth, very j the demonstration that a private staircase led dark. The shutters of both the windows, j from Madame de Feucheres apartments to which looked forth upon one of tho noblest i those of Conde; and the presence of motive domains of France, had been tightly closed; i on the part of this woman to bring about the only the flickering glimmer of a nearly ex- j prince's death was significantly hinted, hausted candle, placed on the hearth, aud j But the Bohans, however just their claim, j screened by frtarge fender placed before it, j were contending against a too formidable relieved in the least degree the obscutity of j power. They were attempting to deprive the CENTURY WHISKIES A the apartment. i young son of an avaricious king, of an im- It was by this dim light that the valet aud mense fortune. The result was that their suit the physician discerned the Prince of Conde, ] was denied them, the court confirmed the who seemed to be leaning against one of the j validity of the will,and D’Aumale and Madame windows with his head bent, as if peering de Feucheres came into their inheritance. | and listening through the bliuds. Lecomte J Of Madame de Feucheres it need only be said hastened to throw open the blind of the ; that, having secured her fortune, she took up other window, when a chastlv spectacle met ' her residence in Paris, where she appeared at; I ', K . EP j 1 '" 1 ?, their eyes. ' | Louis Philippe's court, gambled on the Bourse, | A “/S now favorite brand“ oSt of the mSket'. The early morniug rays fell upon the figure ' gave gorgeous suppers, aud lived a reckless, 1 because the principle upon which they are made is of the poor old man, hanyiny from the bars dissipated life. D’Aumale grew up to take an ] superior. They i which held the shutters. Around his neck heroic part in the Algerine wars; to reside, j ^^Tain^ee when thev: were twisted two handkerchiefs, tied together: i during a long exile, in London, and finally to j ’ and these were fastened to the (spajnaldte, or ; return to his splendid estate of Chantilly after bolt, which held the bars together. the fall of Napoleon III. and the restoration ] The horrible pallor of his face told the j of the Orleans properties to their owners. A • wnlcn lne Iualil oll> oul r story of death. The venerable head was sunk 1 year ago the wedding of the daughter of the j oils of the grain. It is the ’fusel oil which possesses upon the breast; his legs seemed to be drawn ■ Duke do Nemours, D'Aumale’s eldest brother, ; the poisonous properties, ana imparts the sharp, acrid up, as if fixed by a final spasm; the withered j took place in the long-deserted chateau of the bands were closed tight, while his toes just j last of the Condes: and the grand old place, | me llow flavo touched the floor. Singularly enough, the ! over which hung the gloom of a dark tragedy, j PURE ! mand. But I beg you to leave me at Chantilly i The Prince of Conde was thunders tiuck when as your steward.” j this plot dawned upon him. He had The king saw the old prince’s meaning, I always despised the Orleans, from the and was prudent euough to forego his de- day that Philippe Egalite bad voted for the _ mand. death of his cousin, Lonis XVI.; and j handkerchief did not envelop the windpipe, i put on a gala aspect once more, as it used to Many stories are told of the subsequent ‘ now to be importuned to make a scion of I but pressed the forward part of the jaw, pass-1 do in the brilliaut days of Cond* the Great and Re-DUtillrd by tt Peculiar Process, j which extracts the fusel oil, but retains the essential , and it is principally i visits of Louis to Chantilly, ■ which, related with infinite grace by Madame de Sevigne, cannot be omitted. It is a story— like that which remains to be told of tbe last of the Condes—of chagrin and death; though the causes of the chagriu and the manner of tbe death were in singular cvntrast with those which put an end to the illustrious lineage of Lonis de Bourbon. The following is ia translation of the account given by Madame de Sevigne, and the truth of it is vouched for bj’ more than one contemporary authority: “The king (Louis XIV.) arrived at Chan tilly on Thursday evening; the promenade and the collation served in spots carpeted with jonquils—all this went off excellently. They supped; there were several tables at which the roasts were wanting in consequence of more dinners being required than bad been expected. This had a great effect upon Vatel (Vatel was the Prince of Conde's chief French cook). He exclaimed several times, *My honor is gone! Here is an affront which I cannot bear!’ He said to Gonrvilie, ‘My head swims; for twelve nights 1 have not slept; pray assist me in giving the orders. ’ Gour- ville consoled him as well as he could. The roast which had been wanting, not at the king's table, but at the twenty-fifth, was al ways reenrring to his thoughts. iGourville informed Monsieur the prince ot his state of mind. Monsieur the prince went as far as Vatel’g own chamber, and said to him: “ ‘Vatel, all is going well; nothing could be finer than the king’s supper.’ “ ‘Monseigneur,’ replied he, 'your kindness overpowers me. I know that the roast was wanting at two of the tables.’ “ ‘Not at all,’ said the prince, ‘ali is going perfectly well ; do not distress ponrsclt.’ “Midnight comes. The fireworks did not succeed. “They are covered by a cloud ; they cost sixteen thousand francs. At four o’clock in the morning, Vatel goes about every whf re; he finds every one asleep ; he meets a little boy who is bringing two loads of 6ea fish ; he inquires of him — “ ‘Is that all ? ’ “ ‘Yes, sir,’ replied the other, not knowing that Vatel had sent to all the seapoit towns. We’ waits some time; the other purveyors do not come; he becomes wildly excited; he at least of! this house the heir of his traditional estate ing thence to the back of the bead, below the j Louis the Magnificent. and fortune was a bitter surprise in bis lone- j crown. Thus the prince could not have been ly old age. But his “poor Sophie” did not permit him to rest until, wearied and broken by ber persistency, baviDg, it is said, “known no rest since this fatal matter had occupied his thoughts,” declared that “ his blood was on fire,” and bad been excited into many violent altercations with Fencheres, he at last faltered. “ My death,” he moaned, “ is the only thing they look for. Once they shall have obtained from me wh.it they desire, my life may be in jeopardy." As a last resort, he appealed piteously to the magnanimity of Louis Philippe himself. He wrote to him a most touching letter, in which he declared the whole affair to be “in finitely distressing” to him, whereupon the wily Duke d’Orleans made a pretense of beg ging Madame de Fencheres to discontinue her efforts. She peremptorily refused; nor can it be. easily doubted that she thus secretly pleased Louis Philippe. One day the old prince was in the billiard room of his Paris hotel. M. SurvaJ, who was in an adjoining room, heard loud talking, and going in found Conde red with wrath. “Only see,” exclaimed Feucheres, who was with him, “in what a passion monseigneur puts himself, and without a cause ! Try and calm him.” “Yes, madame,” returned Conde, “it is horrible, atrocious, thus to put a knife to my throat to make me do a thing you know I so much abhor.’* He cauzht hold of her hand, and added, gloomily, “Well, plunge the knife iu at once —at once!” The next day the Conde made a will, ap pointing the Duke d’Aumale his heir, and bequeathing Madame de Feucheres a proper ty worth ten million francs. So matters stood when the Revolution of 1830 came, Louis Phillippe became king, and Charles X. an exile. It was toward tho middle of August, 1830, that the Prince of Conde, who had now be come permanently morose and melancholy, and who never heard the name of Feucheres pronounced without a certain senile terror, secretly told his confidential valet that ho pro posed to make a long tour, and to eecop? from Chantilly without the knowledge of 111 strangled to death. The exclamation of Lecomte soon brought. the household, who had been awaiting breath lessly in the corridor tho word of the enigma, pell-mell into the room. Madame de Feu- j cheres cast a quick glance at the prince’s suspended form, and fell to the floor in a vio-1 lent fit. The servants began to moan and to ! whisper to each other, “Monseigneur is \ dead ! monseigneur is deed !” The prince’s almoner came in, and examined the now al most frigid body. Madame deFeucheres was led away to her chamber, followed by her neice. # The death and supposed suicide of the Prince of Conde had been discovered about half past eight. By ten the judge of instruc tion of Poutoise, and commissary of police of St. Leu, were holding their inquest in the chamber of death, and before noon the event was known at the palace of the Toilleries at Paris. Presently the prooureur general, in structed by the king to report tbe facts to M. Dupont de l’Euro, Minister of Justice, reached the chateau, and proceeded to hear the evi dence. His report, made in the afternoon of that day, was pronounced by all Paris, whither every detail had by this time spread, as a grossly erroneous one. He declared that the prince had died by strangulation; that there were no appearance of violence on his person; that he had been bolted into his chamber from tbe inside; and that it was undoubted ly a case of suicide. Uncomfortable critics, not too friendly to the new dynasty, at once pointed out circum stances which directly contradicted the con clusions of tho official inves'igator; aud more than insinuated that, now that tho poor old EXTRACTING THE FUSEL GIL, | and retaining the essential oils, which constitutes the superiority and peculiarity of this process. At the time of re-distillation, the packages are thoroughly cleansed and steamed out, refilled with the j perfected product, and again stored away to ripen and l mellow with age, which it does in a much greater de gree than is possible without such treatment. We di- ' Aide it into different grades, according to age, desig- j nated as X, XX, XXX aud XXXX, aud the latter chal- 1 lenges comparison with ANY WHISKY, Without Regard to Age or Price. FARM FOR SALE. IF YOU WANT A GOOD PLACE EXAMINE THIS ONE. I The almost universal testimony of those who have rj^HIS VALUABLE FARM ON PEACHTREE CREEK used the CENTURY WHISKIES is that there itbin four miles of Atlanta and three miles of Iiecatur, DeKalb county, is now offered for sale, con taining Two Hundred and Sixty Acres, one hundred acres cleared, fifty acres first-class bottom land, the balance in the wood heavily timbered, plenty of fine poplar, oak and hickory, and within one half mile of a first rate merchant mill, saw mill, water gin and a plaining mill and variety works. These lands join Daniel Johnson. Eeq. The uplands are good. Xiao, Mr. Gordon who has lived on the place for tbe last two yeara has agreed to live on the place next year, and is a number one farmer, with force enough to work the place. There Is three aettlemeBts on the place, first- rate stables and crib. Thia is a good place and will be kept on the market, if not aold sooner until the fif teenth of November, after which times other arrange ments will bo made. Terms: One-half cash, balance In one and two years. For further information ad dress Henry Weet, at Decatur. DeKalb county. Titles just as good ss you want them. Oct 13,1*73. octl5-»5t HENRY WEST, S O JBC E JL* C L E. tire absence of headaches and other disagreeable after effects se often experienced in the use or other brands. This is a direct consequence of the Purity of the Century Whiskies, and the impurity of many other brands. They are ABSOLUTELY PURE ; five prominent chemists cer tify to this fact, via: Professor SILL HAN. 8tate Chemlstof Connecticut. Professor C, U. SHEPARD, Ja., State Chemist of South Carolina. Professor W. C. TIL DEN, Washington. D. C. Professor JOHN DABBY. Professor A. MEANS. Atlanta Ricbmonll Airline Railway. DAILY PASSENGER. Atlanta Charlotte N. C. R. R. J motion , 5:30 r u . 8:36 r u S:2i p u ACCOMMODATION PASSENGER. household. His st range actions moan while i mitted suicide, with the evidc _ l LKAVK. prince, after making a will bequeathiug the Atlanta SRam estates of the Condes to the youug Duke j d’Aumale, was well out of the way, it was at i v ’ once the interest and the purpose of “exalted 1 personages”—thore being no doubt who was ! mount by this expressiou—to hush up and; prevent an inquiry into tho tragedy. But i even royalty—if it attempted this task -could 1 not hush it up; and on tho investigation | which succeeded, the reasoning of those who I rejected the theory that the prince had com A&UIVK 6 43 A M 6 :39 a M 6:34 A M H, M. GREEN, Attorney at Law. Atlanta, Georgia. importing I \ 11 ‘public Will give d tahla«art Block, juat eppoaito Kimball areful aitoutiou to any buainrat octU-tf It has now been some time In use for hospital and other medical purposes where stimulants are required, and it has been noted that in delicate and critic*! esses ^where used, that there was an entire absence of the nervou* prostration and reaction which so often fob lows the use of ordinary stimulants. XXXX Century Whisky Received * medal and diploma of m^rit at the Yienua Exposition, l-emg the onlj brand out of five ou exhi bition thx.R honored. For sale by diuggiata and first-clas? dealers through out the United State*: wholesale by U. K. THURBKR A CO., Geuerai Agent*. •epl9 Cm New York City.