Federal union. (Milledgeville, Ga.) 1865-1872, June 05, 1866, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextVOLUME XXXVI.] BOUGHTON,N1SBET,BARNEn&MOORE Publishers and Proprietors. s. nr. ROuniiTox, jos. n. nriMSET, GJil.ri, (l|jc Jxbtral elnion 1$ published Weekly, in Millcdgevillc, Ga., Corner of Hancock Wilkinson Sts., At $3 a year in Advance. ADVERTISING. T*.as(U«ht.—One Dollar per square of tenlinesfor each insertion Tributes of respect. Resolution* by Sooietie*. (Obit- ■ aries exceeding six line., Nomination* for office Com munications or Editorial notices for individual benefit,) charged a»transient advertising. Licit. AnvEKTisiNo. Bk.rifT. sale,per levy of ten lines, or less, $2 50 “ Mortgage fi fa sales per square, 5 00 Tar Collector’s Sales, persquare, 5 00 Citations for Letter, of Administration, 3 00 “ •• “ Guardianship, 3 00 Letter. *f application for dism'n from Adm’n 4 50 “ “ “ “ Guard’n 3 00 Appl’n foe leave to tell land, 5 00 Notice* to Debtors and Creditor., 3 00 Sale, of land, 4*c., per square, 5 00 •• perishable property, 10 days, per square, 1 50 Eitray Notices, 30 days, 3 00 I Foreclosure of Mortgage, per sq . each time, 1 00 LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS. ( Guardians, are required by law to be held on the first ! Tuesday iu the mouth ; between the hours of 10 in the j f.reuoou aud three iu tiie afternoon, at the Court house : intno county in which the property i* situated Notice ot these sales must be given in a public ga- sette 40 days previous to the day ot sale. Notice, for the sale of personal property must be i given in like mariner 10 day* previous to sale day. Notices to the debtors and creditors of an estate ‘ must alao be puuisbed 40 days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of i Ordinary tor leave to sell Laud, &e., must be publish- j • d for two months. Citations for letters of A (ministration Guardianship, ' Ac., must be published 3d days—for dismission from , Administration, monthly *tx montkt—for disuii*sion from Guardianship, 40 hays. Rules for foreclosure of Mortgage must be published monthly for four months—for establishing lost papers, 1 for the full spore u) three months—for compelling titles from Executors or administrators, where bond has ] been given by the deceased, the full space of three months. Publications will always be continued according to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise or dered. Book and Job work, of all kinds, PROMPTLY AND NEATLY EXECUTED j AT THIS OFFICE. rF* When a subscriber finds a cross mark on ! his paper ho will know that his subscription lias expired, or is about to expire, and must be renew ed if he wishes the paper continued. ry We do not send receipts to new subscri bers. If they receive the paper they may Know that we have received the money. nr Subscribers wishing their papers changed from one post-office to another must state the name of the post-office trom which they wish it changed. COUNTING HOUSE CALENDAR, 18G6. ie)AV<s, STOSEWSM, JACKNOn. Tthe memory of 6tonewall Jackson has receiv ed few tributes more touching in simplicity and pathos than th- following beautiful poem, puli lislted in the New York Citizen, of which Mr Charles G. Halpin. is the editor. Mr. flalpine himself is a poet of rare taste, was an officer iu the United States Army during the late war. and is well known to fame as “Private Miles O’Reil ly.” The poem in question, he says, is from the pf-n of a distinguished officer’of the United States Navy —Petersburg Express.] He sleeps all quietly and cold Beneath the soil that gave him birth— Then oreak his battle-brand in twain, And lay it with him iu the earth! No more at midnight shall he urge His toilsome march among the pines ; Nor hear upon the morning air The war-shout of hia charging lines. Cold is the eye whose meteor-gleam Flashed hope on all within its light; And still the voice that trumpet-toned, Kang through the serried ranks of fight. No more for him shall cannons park. Or tents glsam white upon the plain; And where his camp-fire blazed of yore Brown reapers laugh amid the grain! No more above his narrow bed Shall sound the tread of marching feet. The nfle volley and the crash Of sabres when the foemeu meet. And though the winds of autumn rare, And winter snows fall thick and deep, Above his breast, they cannot move The quiet of his dreamless sleep. We may not raise a marble shaft Above the heart that now is dust; But nature, like a mother fond, Will ne’er forget her sacred trust. Young April, o'er his lowly monnd, Shall shake the violets from her hair; Aud glorious June, with fervid kiss, Shall bid the roses blossom there. And round about the droning bee, With drowsy hum. shall come and go ; While west winds all the livelong day oliall murmur dirges soft and low. The warrior's stormy fete is o’er, 'The midnight gloom hath passed away ; And like a glory from the East Breaks ihe first light of Freedom', day ! And white winged Peace, o'er all the land, Broods like a dove upon her ne.t; While iron War, with slaughter gorged, At length hath laid him down to rest And whe*e we won our onward way, With lire and steli, through yonder wood, The black-bird whistles, and the quail Gives auswei to her timid braod. Yet oft in dreams bis fierce brigade Shall see the form they followed fair, Still leading in the farthest van— A landmark in the clouds of war And oft, when white-haired grandsires tell Of bloody struggles past and gone, Tbe children at their knees shall hear How Jackson led his columns on ! DESCRIPTION OF A .WAN. ?3-i 5 c = S. £ 1 ■ S’- y s 3 3 5? '& rs i£i! • a. Vif c ; el c : • J; Jax't. 1 i 7; 8 2 3 4 — 1 5 6 Jour. 1234 1213 ! 8 9 10 11 1 : iu 20 '15 16 17 18 1 '21 22 23 24 25 26 27 '*8 29 30 31 ; | ' _ ,] ! 1 2 3 f *» T 4 5 6 7 8 9,10 Aigi bt II 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22.23 24 |25 20 *7 28. ; | j „ I ' l 8 3f ***• 4 5 6 7 8 9 l0SzrT’R 111 12 13 M-15 16 17 18 19 20 21 *2 23 24 25 26 27 28 21* 30 3|> I j I | j j i Ar»iu 1 2 3, 4 5 6 7 OcToi’a 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19*2021] 22 23 21 25 26 27.28 5 6 22 23 54 25 26 *7 28 2 3i 4 9 10 11 , Mat. Jink. ,29 30 , 2 3 41 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 Noth. 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26: '27 28 *9 30 311 > I Mil *L 3456789 Deck*. 10 II 12 13 1415 16 17 18'I9 20 21 22 23i 1*24 25 26 *7 28 29 30 Hu I I I I J 29 30 31 P I - 8 T) 6 / ® _ -"I . - 1*. 13 14 15 16 17 13 19 20 31 22 23 24 25 •‘"fwh, 9 3 4 5 6 7 8 y 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 30 21 22 24 25 26.27 28 29 30 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 H 9 1011 12 13 H 15 16 17'l8 1920 21 22 23 *4 25 26 27 28 29,30 3l' ill 1 I » ! 3 ; 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 • 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 j 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27'28 29 30 I j j .1 1 9 3 4, 5 6 7 8 o'lO II 12 13 14 15 I ,16 17 18.19 20 21 22 , 83 34 25i“6 27|*8 29 30,^1 2.51 “6 27(4 rm SPRING 4 SUMMER GOODS ! A NEW Stock, jet receive1,at H. TINSLEY’S, Agent Milledgeville, March J2th,1666. 32 tf J. W. RABUN dc CO., AND iCi 140 BAY STREET, SAVANNAH, GA. 38 tf J. W. Rabun, P. H. Wood. April *4tb, 1«66. L. CARRINGTON, General Agent at Mille(lgevill«> F OR the transaction of any and all business connected with the Seat of GOVERNMENT. He will furnish certified copies ol any Acts passed by the Legislature, will examine and give correct information of the Laud Books, &c., ate. Terms moderate. , Milledgeville, April 2d, 1666. 35 ly REMOVED. T HE undersigned having rented sni now occu- pying tbe rooms at tbe east end of t e DARIEN BANK BUILDING, "her* he can be found at all honrs, ready to settle *ny claims dne him, and receive proceeds of tb* •»rne. many of them being old enongh to vote i •«> anxious to se ttle all old account, and have my Books balanced I shall expect an-' <n»wf on my *-d friends calling on me, as I ** onab.e to call on them, not having been out ° f la.tCbh.tma.day* 1 C April 9th, 1866. **■ WRITTEN HY A WOMAN. A man is like to—but stay, To what he’s unlike who can say T And yet we cannot do without him ! Love sits in bis breast. Like a hen on her nest. And hi. chickens are scratching about him! When he is pleased lam squeezed : When he’s not, I am teased, And I never can tell where to find him, He is like an old horse, With but little, and cross, And a woman is foolish—very foolish to mind him. It he chance to smile, And look pleasaut awhile, And coo es chattering round like a chicken, He is like a gay lark, But a false hearted spark. Whose feathers are scarcely worth picking! But when he is vexed, Confused aud perplexed, Deceitful and vicious. Base, false aud malicious, He is like—hard to speak myself— H- is like to, alas, Like a snake in tbe grass, He is then only then, like himself ! His head’s like a butcher’s full shop, With beef, mutton, pork, aud what not, His heart's like a pail of swill, Which the offal contribute, to fill— Iu short to a wife, He is like a case knife. To cut up a cake, or a cheese. Like a saint when he is civil: But if not like the devil: That will turn to whatever he please ! To a hog, to a dog, To a hare, to a bear, Whose cruelty yieldeth to no man Like a mouse like a goose, Like a mule, like a tool; Liken lane, like a vane ; Like a leaf, like—iu brief, He’s like everything else—but a Woman. [ COMMUNICATED.] A Wild Ride. It was in the year 18 , in tbe coal region of the State of , soon after the completion of a railroad to tbe summit of an adjacent mountain, where is situated a mine of immense riches, lhat a party of us, ladies and gentlemen, determined to visit them- The road, leading from the beautiful viliage of M , wound its serpentine and zig zag course up a rough and precipitous mountain side. At times passing between immeuie cliffs, where, far above, hui.g huge rocks that seemed to require scarce the strength of a child to burl them down upon ua. Again, we could look over tbe edge of a precipice into the dark chasm beneath, where seemed to rest impenetrable gloom. Down, down into this mighty depth, it needed but tbe slightest derangement of the truck to precipitate us, at the mere thought of which, the stoutest heart would shuuder and the boldest cheek blanch. After traveling thus for tome tem miles, the top w as reached, distant on an air line some two aud a half miles. Here, deep beneath the surface of the earth, from day to day, labor tbe men engaged in excavating this necessary com modity. From their earliest infancy, the dark and dangerous intricacies of the mines are made familiar to them. Scarcely does a day pass, without some dreadfull accident, such as 1 crush ed to death by a fall of c?al,” “leg broken by a coal car,” “skutl fractured by a protruding ledge of rock” or something equally horrible. Thus by constant association with these dangers, are their terrors lessened, and they, with seeming pleas ure, pursue an occupation fraught with many and imminent dangers. After exploring the mines and watching the miners at their labors, as they flitted hither and thither through the darkness, with their lit'le lamps suspended from their cap fronts, reminding one of the ever restless firtfly, wo took our seats in the car to descend. Tbe passenger coach being always run down alone, we felt no apprehensions of danger on this occasion, though we were soon speeding along at a rapid rate o’er frightful steeps. The coach is suddenly stopped, a switch changed, and we are running back in almost the same direction, though sti'l dowuward and rapid ly. Thus are these switches passed and we are on the main track, leading into the village. Seven miles of tremendous grade, now lie before us and danger threatens on either side, though these are all forgotten aud the conductor is urged to give us_a swift passage to tho valley beneath. The brakes are given full play and soon a frightful rate of speed is obtained. Scarcely half a mile is traversed ere we regret our thoughtless request. Every moment the speed increases, and -passing rapidly the short carves, it is with difficulty we retain our seats. Alarm is pictured upon tbe faces of all. And well may they be alarmed at rushing down a precipitous mountain side at the rate of sixty miles a hour, when a mis-placed rail would hurl us into eternity. A shriek, and a cry, “she has fainted,” arouses the conductor to a sense of his duty, and he rapidly turns on the 1 brake; another torn, a snap, and lo ! the chain is broken. In frantic haste ho rushes to the rear of j the coach and turns ou that one, when oh! hor ror of horrors! the chain has been carelessly left 1 unfastened. The situation was one to appal the j the stoutest heart, as we thought of the dreadful I fate awaiting us at the village, should we escape being hurled into some abyss. All was in despair, j One, more calm than thereat, iu a fervent pray- : er, commended our souls to God. A death like j silence ensned on the part of Ihe passengers, and j nothing was beard, save the monotonous “clatter- of the rapidly revolving wheels. In oar j seemingly lost condition, hope, like a delivering ! angel, appears and whispers comfort. The switch I at the village may be right for us to pass through \ the intricate maze of tracks at that place. There ■ may be no engine on the track. Thus hoping, we I neared the village, another moment and we will know our fete. Oh ! the mental horror of that moment. We strain onr eyes, through the dark ness, to catch the faintest movement of the signal light. We see it, it is right, ire are safe. Thank God burst from every lip. At lightning speed we pass the village, its lights glimmer for an instant and still onward we fly, enveloped in darkness. Soon a perceptible decrease of spoed is felt and ere three more miles are traversed we are stationary. { Let us pray, said our religious friend, and never j waa a proposition more readily acceeded to. Sin- ! cere and devout thanks were offered to Heaven for our miraculous deliverance, and a hearty amen responded by all. Soon we were being hauled back to the village by an engine sent out for that purpose, and in a few minutes reached it in safety. Time, which covers all things with j the mantle of oblivion, can never totally eradicate : from my memory, the dreadful situation of that j night Nor can I ever think of it without a feel ; ing ot horror. E.*** upon hi. short bat hashing career in this ) night before. His face was ashy pale, metropolis, and then look at him in his and he looked very thin and dejected As Foreign Correspondence of tbe Boston Morning Post. •borl Career mf a Ditshing A uteri™ n in Lsadca—Passage* ia the Life of iflnreu* C'irere Mlaaley. j ^ London is the very last place in the whole world where a man can pursue a long time a dishonest career. The rea sons are obvious, the number of tbe metropolitan police, their constant atten tion to their duties, aud thorough knowl edge of every swindler and thief, as well as every den of iniquity in town, prevent any one from imposing on the community more than once or twice before he is in their clutches. | [The writer sketches two or three in stances of swindling and imposture, and proceeds :J But the individual to whom I intend particularly to allude when 1 commenced this letter has been intimate with me, as ! well as with many Americans in London j and Paris, during the last six months, and as he represented himself to belong to one of the most respectable families in America, you will at once perceive how easily he imposed upon our good nature. He is a young man of only twenty-two ' years of age, and of most prepossessing | appearance. Seldom have 1 met with a j person who so readily won my esteem, j and seldom, if ever, was 1 so imposed upon by any one. His name is Marcus Cicero Stanley, and he pretends to he the broth er of Mr Stanley, the member of Con gress from North Carolina, although 1 strongly suspect be never saw that gen tleman. He has been dashing about Lon don for tbe last eight months, and at one time created quite a sensation among tbe exquisites in Hyde Park, where lie daily promenaded during the fashionable season. He attracted universal attention, not only on account of the richness of his dress, but tbe display in the selection of his nice fit. Everything was the D’Orsay touch, and even D’Orsay himself could not vie with him in dress. From his chapeau*to his Parisian hoot, all was in fine taste and exqusitiely put on. His heir fell upon his shoulders iu long silken ringlets, and his mustache has the very latest Parisian curl. His kid gloves were ordered in person of a beautiful demoiselle iu tbe Palais Koyale, and bis boots were turned oat by Orr of Paris from his own lasts. He was very engaging in his manners, fluent in conversation upon every subject, and frequently quoted Byrou, Moore, •Shakespeare and the poets, when he wished to give a strong sentiment in favor of the fair sex, to whom he was particu larly partial. In fact he boasted that all the pretty girls were in love with him, and that no girl could look at bis eye without being in his power. His eye had all tbe taseination of the serpent's, and after he had secured his prey he did not fail to destroy it. He reveled upon their smiles, and rioted upon their destruc tion. Ordinary beauties were beneath his notice—his grand aim was at the high born and tbe virtuous. Upon those who were young, inuocout and very beautiful, he lavished smiles and golden fevora till they were prostrate at his teat; with a boast, he trampled upon end crashed the fair flowers. It ie painful to look back present situation. He being connected with a highly respec table Southern family, his extravagant style of dress and his winning manners readily introduced him into society here, and to all Americans particularly. He occupied apartments at the London Coffee- House, Ludgate Hill, several months, and lived in an expensive manner, but more recently he removed to private and splen did lodgings in Golden Square, and took his breakfast between twelve and one, and his dinner between six and eight at Very’s celebrated establishment, in Re gent street, His regular place of resort was at Catlin’s Indian Gallery, in the Egyptian Hall, where he met many of, his countrymen, and were I was unfortu nately introduced to him by a highly respectable gentleman. Here he proba bly carried on a system of swindling for many months undiscovered, and he was caught in the very act of stealing from Mr. Gatlin’s pocket. It is necessary here to remark that Stanley had been on terms of intimacy with Mr. Catlin for nearly eight months —visited his gallery several times every day, and often enjoyed the hospitality of Mr. Catlin with our Americans at his residence. Stanly introduced himself to Mr. Catlin as the brother of the member of Congress, and, as Mr. Stanley, of North Carolina, Iras known to Mr Catlin, be was, of course, gratified to meet his broth er so far from home, and on this account showed him many attentions. During the eight months Stanley was in London, I should have mentioned that he twice or three times went to Paris for a few weeks. In Paris he dashed in the same style as he had in London, stopping at Maurice’s great hotel, and running in debt with tailors and every other class. When he last returned to London from Paris, about the first of this month, he came directly to my residence to obtain lodgings, but having suspicions that Stan ley was not what be represented himself to be, I forewarned my landlord not to take him into his house, in consequence of which he could not obtain apartments. Mr. Catlin has, within a month intro duced an evening entertainment, connect ed with his Indian Gallery, which he calls a “Grand Indian Powwow.’’ It con sists of a lecture, and several Indian dan ces, every Monday evening, and R always crowded to excess. Mr. Catlin lias from fifteen to twenty men dressed in Indian costume for the purpose of displaying his rich Indian dresses to advantage, aud these men appear on a stage before the audience, when Mr. Catlin explains every article of dress and the customs of each tribe. Mr. Catlin himself dresses in Indian costume at the same time, aud for this purpose occupies a large room con nected with his gallery. It is his usual custom to leave his clothes in this room, and he has often left several sovereigns in his trouser’s pockets during the time oc cupied in his lecture. He had several times missed money, and he was puzzled to know how it slipped away. He was determined at length to ascertain, and for this purpose went to the police office and made known his case ; a police officer whs sent to his gallery dressed in citizen’s clothes, and he saw Mr. Catlin mark four sovereigns and four shillings, and place them iu his trouser’s pocket. Mr. Catlin then dressed in Indian cos tume, and went with his meD upon the stage, leaving no one in the dressing- room but the policeman, who secreted him self. It must here he remarked that Stanley, with other intimate friends of Mr. Catlin, had been in the habit of going in and out of the gallery and this dressing room whenever they chose to do so, but upon this occasion, which was upon Monday evening, the 9th of the month, not a person remained in the room, with the exception of the policeman. So so« n as Mr. Catlin and all of his men had left the room for the stage, the policeman stated on oath that he distinctly saw Stan ley run iuto the room, go directly to Mr. Catlin’s trousers, take ont the money, place a portion of it in his own vest-pocket, and put the remainder back whence he took it; he then went out at the same door he entered, and the policeman followed him into the large room where the audi ence was assembled. He touched Stan ley’s arm and told him he wished to speak with him. Stanley came out of the room and asked the policeman, not know ing that he was an officer, wbat he wanted. Ho told him I10 wished to see what money he had about him. Stanley, thinking it an impertinent question, asked he stood at the bar, all tbe eyes were turned toward him, when he immediately officer to watch on the evening the money was stolen from him 1 took out his white handkerchief and cov ered his face with it, supporting his head upon bis hand. The court was crowded with well dressed persons, among whom were several Americans. The jury hav- [ ing taken their seats, the usual question was asked the prisoner—guilty or not guilty ? when he replied in a feeble tone, “not guilty ” Mr. Catlin was then sworn, and stated the circumstances of the case on his part. \Y hen be had finished, he sat down, ap parently completely overcome by the un pleasant situation iu which he was placed as a prosecutor against a countryman, and one who had been bis ultimate friend — He even elicited from every one present gieat sympathy, and he would, no doubt, have been glad to have forfeited his bonds and dropped the prosecution had it been iu his power so to do. Here I must refer to the American Min ister, Mr. Stevenson, who, in a kind and generous manner, immediately on hearing of Stanley’s situation, sent to the celebra ted lawyer, Mr. Charles Phillips, to de fend the prisoner, although Mr. Stevenson had never seen Stanley. After Mr. Cntlin’s evidence had been given the policeman was sworn, and rela ted many particulars, as already given.— Mr. Philips cross-examined him in a very thorough manner, but could not shake his testimony. He did not impute to him any desire to misrepresent tbe case, but thought he might be mistaken in some points. Mr ■ Phillips now prepared himself to address the jury. There was at this mo ment a death-like silence in court, for the eloquence of the distinguished gentleman , has rung in many courts, and chained the ' attention of his audience for hours. lie said he was placed in a most embarrassing 1 situation; indeed, in the. whole course of| his life it had never fallen to Lis lot to defend a prisoner under feelings of great er anxiety than in this instance. He ad mitted that the case was full of strong suspicion, hut the situation iu which the prisoner was placed was sufficient to excite the sympathy of all the ju rors; for notwithstanding they were all Englishmen, he knew that national sym pathy existed in their breasts toward foreigners—especially an American and a stranger in this land. The young man at the bar was far removed from his home (here the prisoner burst into tears)—far removed from his highly respectable pa rents and connections, and who had brought him up in the path of virtue and religion, and was now standing charged with the crime of felony, when some thousands of miles away from those who would flock around him and put bis char acter in that light which would induce the jury to repudiate the idea that he hftd committed such an offense. (Here Mr. Stanley was so overpowered that he at tempted to sit down but was not allowed to do so). He (Mr. Phillips) could not help casting bis eye back upon the prison er, and contemplating the rightful situa tion in which any of the juror’s sons would be placed if similarly circumstanced in America; and yet the friends and rela tives of the accused were quite as respect able as any of the gentlemen whose pro vince it was to decide whether there was not a possibility that the prisoner's state ment might be true, and that he had no felonious intention in taking the money. He would mention as a proof of bis re spectability, that be (Mr. Phillips) was personally acquainted with the American Minister, and in consequence of a com munication with that gentleman he now appeared to defend the young man at the bar. Mr. Phillips theu went over every part of tbe evidence, and commented at considerable length upon it in a most thril- lingly eloquent manner, after which he left the case in tbe hands of the jury and sat down, while his eloquence lingered like music on the ear, and even aroused the prisoner from his sobs and dried up his tears. The magistrate then turned toward the jurors, and addressed them c threat leDgth. He recapitulated the evidence, and over threw every argument brought forward by Mr. Phillips in tbe prisoner’s behalf. Mr. Catlin replied because he had sev eral times missed money before. Mr. j Catlin then aaid to tbe jury it had been a very painful case to him, and had almost broken him down ; if he were permitted, we would earnestly recommend the pris oner to mercy. 'The jury were then unani mous iu finding Stanley guiity. I he magistrate then addressed the prisoner, who was engaged in drawing on his hand a new white kid glove 1 He told him that, after a very long and pa tient investigation, the jury had found him guilty, and the court was of the opin ion that there were no extenuating circum stances in his favor. It was painful to pass sentence upou a poor man for steal ing a loaf of bread, but lie (Stanley) had no excuse to offer. However, as the jury, as well as Mr. Catlin, bad thought proper to recommend him to rnerej, the sentence of the court was that “he be imprisoned and kept at hard labor for six months in the house of correction, six weeks of the time in solitary.” Stanley, who bad been carefully smoothing his glove, suddenly dropped his arms, bit his lip, scowled, and leaned on an officer’s arms, who conducted him out of court. I shall finish this already long letter by a few more remarks concerning Stanley purmg his residence in Golden square be had the privilege, in common with ail oth er residents in the neighborhood, of walk ing in the park which foims the square, and in the season a verry beautiful prome nade. Young ladies frequently walk in this park, and as Stanley was a dashing idler, he also passed much of his time there. There is a little romance connect ed wyh this, but I have not time to give particulars—it is sufficient to say now that one day he fell in love with a very Leau- tdul and accomplished Jewess in this park, who in turn fell desperately in love with him at first sight. Cards were dropped by each party and afterward billetdoux and finally wri'ten sentiment ripened into 1 the whispered and burning words of poe try on his part, and the mellow music of young love’s first dream on the part of rhe Jewess. Day after day they met anti poured into each other’s ear all the elo quence of the soul. A day was fixed for ■the wedding. The parents gave their consent if Stanley would turn Jew, and produce satisfactory evidence of his re spectability and wealth. He particularly satisfied the old folks; a solicitor was em ployed to draw up the papers which were to place young Stanley in possession of a fortune the day he took bis bride. But you already know the result. He was stopped in his wicked career by a just God, before he had ruined a respect able family and the hopes of a fair maid! 1 he Jewess swooned when she first heard the sad tidings of Stanley’s arrest: and could not f 0 r a long time believe him guilty of the charges brought against him. Her mother, however was in court, and heard the whole trial. Oh! could you have witnessed the intense anxiety of that mother at every turn in the trial; could you have seen her eye sparkling with joy, aud then threw out a tear at every fresh step for or against the bar, how you wonld have pitied her. She heard the sentence, and left the court to convey the inteligence to her afflicted family. The Jewess is now thankful that her destiny was not linked, with that of such * bold villian. I he whole evidence, he said, proved _ a .l. i • , xx. . . r . Queen Victoria's Birthday.-To morrow, May 24, will be tbe forty-seventh anni versary of the birthday of the Queen of England. The day will be duly celebrated by tbe English residents in this and other cities of the United States. In Canada and tbe British Provinces there will bo the usual loyal rejoicings, in the shape of reviews of troops, firing of cannon, illumi nations and fireworks. In England the' event will of course be celebrated with great eclat, and in all the British dependencies throughout the world there will be more or less rejoicings. Her Majesty is now in the twenty-ninth year of her reign, having ascended the throne on the demise of her uncle, Wil liam the Fourth, in June, 1837. This is a long time for the reign of a British Sovereign, the greatest longevity having been attained by her grandfather who reigned sixty years. She has a nu’ that the prisoner intended to rob his inti- j raeroas family of nine children, five of mate friend, but if the jury found that !. tbem sons, all of whom are living. Queen there was any good grounds tor his ac- [ v 'ct®ria’s popularity has been somewhat quittal, they must render their verdict | • m P a > r ed by her long seclusion from pub- accordingly. 1 lie life ia consequence of the death of her After a few minute’s consultation, and | husband, Prince Albert of Cobonrg; hut before leaving their seats, they returned a I ®h e is held in deserved estimation for her officer. Stanley then made some resis tance, and raised his arm as if to strike the po'iceinan, and told him if be knew who he was lie would not dare pat such a ques tion to him. After some farther alterca tion, Stanley took out several sovereigns and soma silver, which tbe policeman examined, and finding two sovereigns and two shillings in his hand of tbe marked money he seized the money, and also Stan ley, who made a desperate resistance and called loudly for Mr. Catlin. He was, however, immediately taken to the po lice station and locked np for the night, and next morning he was conveyd to the Marlborough street police office, where I was present at the examination. Stanley did not deny that he took the money, but said he did so merely for the purpose of reproaching Mr. Catlin for the care lessness in leaving his money in scch an exposed manner. The defence did not avail him, and he was committed to prison to take his trial at the Western session on the 19th iost. At the time appointed, I was in court to hear the trial, and, when Stanley was led to the prisoner’s bar, there was visible a mighty change from what he was a fort- him by, . _ I wbat right he made the request. The verd ict of guilty, the foreman adding that J character as a lady and a Queen, and policeman stated that he was a police- tfa ey strongly recommended the prisoner V l: - L —*-*--*-* 1 to mercy. Tbe magistrate asked upon what grounds The foreman replied on account of his youth and inexperience, and previ ous good character. The magistrate said there had been no evidence given of his good character. He thought the prisoner could not be said to be young and inexperienced at his age. j English subjects in every part of the world will honor her birthday with the respect due to her position as ihe sovereign that rules over several hundred millions of people.—N. Y. Com.Advertiser. - Arrangements have been made for a grand celebration in Detroit the coming Fourth of July. AH the colors 0 f the Michigan regiments are to be received by One of the jurors here expressed some' State / ar, d the officers and soldiers of doubt in the case, when the prisoner asked ! f h e8e re giments are to have a grand pa- if he could be permitted to speak to the j ra( ^ e - jury. The magistrate said he would be . A Long Ferry.—The Shreveport South allowed to speak if be wished, but earnest ly and repeatedly advised him not to do so, as he had been ably defended. He persisted, and finally told bis own story, and finished by saying he was perfectly indifferent to his owi punishment, hut he did not like to have his character branded as a felon, or bis family disgraced —this, be said, was worse than being transported, or (turning round and taking up a splendid overcoat and mattering in a low tone—going to the devil. The juror referred to was then inclined to disagree with tbe others, when the fore man called op Mr. Catlin upon the stand and asked him why he employed a police Western, of the 16th, says the ferry boat Don Louis, whose usual trips are confined to running to the*>pposite bank of the river, on acconnt of high water now ex tends her trips to Vance’s gin honse, on Old river, a distance of forty miles. Rev. Mr. Taylor says .-.“Often where a preacher has driven a nail in a sore place, instead of clenching it and securing well the advantage, he hammers away till be breaks the head off or splits tbe board.” A run of one hundred and twenty miles was recently made on the Michigan Cen tral Railroad in three hours and forty- nine minutes.

Georgia Historic Newspapers

Federal union. (Milledgeville, Ga.) 1865-1872, June 05, 1866, Image 1