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GREEN-EYED
Jr E A. Hi O TJS1T-
A Clandestine Marriage.
COMPLETE INTO) NUMBERS.
BY WM. H. P.
Bert Gadogan, Judie and I had our picnic on
a sward of velvet moss flung like an emerald
tapestry upon the mountain slope, a spot girt
with beauty, and studded with lofty trees for
sentinels.
It was not muoh of a picnic in an edible way.
Mr. Gadogan had put some biscuits in his haver
sack, which when we had completed our ascent,
we ate with appetite, and wished for more.
It was Mr. Gadogan who proposed the excur
sion. upon this last day of Judie’s stay. It m-
volved quite a rough bit of mountain climbing,
but both Judie and he had had experience.
Judie showed her little fee* in boots which she
had worn among the pyramids and up the 10
Semite, and Mr. Cadogan’s alpenstook was a re
minder of perils and adventures in Switzerland.
“Do you think you are equal to the ascent,
Miss Laura?” he had inquired; and I had re
plied that one never knew what one could
achieve until one had tried. .
I did not occur to me that perhaps my friend
and my guest would as soon go without me.
Strange that it did not. But no; it would have
been strange if it had.
We spent the cool September morning over
our work, while Mr. Cadogan read to us, and
told us blood-curdling stories of Alpine adven
tures, to steady our nerves for the task before us.
“You never have told me where you became
acquainted with your friend, Laura, said Mr.
Gadogan, sleepily, during Judie’s temporary
absence from where we were sitting.
“At boarding-school. We were room-mates,
and belonged to the same class.”
“Ah yes. Somehow I cannot keep in mind
that you were a whole year away from here once.
I was away three years, and yet when I came
back I could have sworn that not an hour had
passed since I left you sitting in that very chair
—just as you sit now. It was June when I
went away, June when I came back,” said Bert
Cadogan, scrutinizing me in a preocnpied way.
“ I believe you wore the self-same white dress,
Laura, the self-same spray twisted in your hair.
I doggedly keep a vague notion in my head that
you slept, like the enchanted Princess, through
those years of my absence.”
I felt delicious floods of crimson tingling my
cheeks and temples as Bert Cadogan talked. It
was not so much what he said as what he left un
said. If I were the enchanted princees, he
must be the “fated fairy prince.,,
He was all that to my imagination. His
fancy, too, came near enough to truth to feed my
dreams upon. Life had been little better than
a long dull sleep, so long as he was away.
“You do not accord much credit to Madame
Blande," I said. She thought my year’s absence
from home improved me vastly.”
“Laura,” said Mr. Cadogan, seriously, “you
are not susceptible of improvement in my eyes.”
I might have thought, from his tone, that
these words meant what they would mean from
most men to a woman. But he had said the
same to me many times before. I only looked
up shyly, too plainly showing my pleasure, and
met the expression of his great brown eyes fixed
upon me.
“Is it possible?" I said. “Because I wear
old-fashioned dresses here at home, and twist
my hair up like a mermaid, I am to infer that
artistic dress would not improve me, as it does
other people. When Judie is married I am go
ing to have my dress imported from Paris, and
you will see what a change it will make.”
Bert Cadogan started visibly; his face looked
petrified.
“Is-Miss Martindale going to be married?”
be asked speaking her name with an effort.
“ I suppose so, sometime,” I returned curtly.
“Oh, I thought you referred to something
definite.”
At that moment Judie came back. Possibly
she had heard a portion of our conversation,
or else the emphasis of our voice attracted her
notice. She looked at Mr. Cadogan sharply,
but he did not return the look.
At that moment our early dinner was announc
ed, at an hour later we set out upon our tramp.
It was a delicious mid-day. We walked gaily
along the road for a mile. At last, out of floods
of sunshine, out of the fresh air with its winey
fragrance, we turned into the cool shadows of
the wood that lay at the base of the mountain.
When the climbing grew difficult I needed a
good deal of Mr. Cadogan's help. Judie sprang
nimbly on alone.
I remember her looking back from time to
time,her tartan plaid wound about her.her whole
form instinct with fierce grace and beauty. I
wondered with a pang if any man could admire
me in contrast with Judie Martindale.
By dint of hard climbing at length we stood
panting upon the summit.
“Does it pay for the doing, Miss Martindale?”
said Mr. Cadogan, as she threw herself down to
rest.
“There is just room enough here to live and
to die,” she said, in a cynical voice.
“ Alone?” said Bert Cadogan, with a meaning.
“I have always dreamed of such a spot as
this,” continued Judie. “I believe you may
leave me here to-night. The papers will record
a mysterious disappearance, and I shall be at
peace."
“ I should be so curious to see how you would
play hermit that I should intrude upon your re
treat”
“I never heard you talk so much nonsense be
fore, Judie,” I said pettishly.
There was an under-current in Mr. Cadogan’s
talk with Judie that day which I had never
heard before, and which pained me strangely.
During the month that Judie had been with me
I had not thought of being jealous. Now, just
as she was to go away, I felt uneasily the exist
ence of some secret sympathy between her and
Bert Cadogan. And if there was, had I any right
to gainsay it ? Certainly not—no right at all.
But I was annoyed all the same, and chose to
hold myself aloof from them.
It was sombre and cool as we prepared to de
scend.
“ People of my capacity can go down hill if
they choose,” I said, declining Mr. Cadogan’s
offered hand, and running forward alone.
He offered no remonstrance, letting me have
my own way. In my excitement I went so
rapidly that I outstripped my companions and
was obliged to wait for a moment or two for them
to come up. Very leisurely they came, as though
they were enjoying their opportunity; then the
sound of their voices came on my strained ear,
rapid, earnest, hushed, and I saw their faces—
hers flushed with agitation, her lovely eyes full
of tears; his tender, pitiful, beseeching—not the
same face that Bert Cadogan had ever turned
toward me.
My brains reeled with a sudden madness. Ills
love after all was for her, not me. Dullard that 1
had been not to suspect them till to day ! I turn
ed blindly, my heart knocking against my breast.
The whole earth grew dark and desolate. I
plunged recklessly along. Suddenly a careless
foothold failed me ; I slippel and fell. The
blackness and giddiness were real. Then con
sciousness went out with a sharp, wrenching pain,
and when it returned after an interval 1 heard
strange, subdued voices, and felt a recurrence of
fthe pain. 1 knew feebly that I was being carried
upon a litter, towards home, and then I knew no
more.
It was my back that had been injured in my
fall. I should recover my health deformed. Thai
was the verdict that came to me when the white
frost of winter glittered in the sunshine of those
weary days.
Judie had gone home now. She had stayed till
I was out of danger, and nursed me so tenderly,
they said. I shuddered. The thought of her
tenderness stung me afresh. She sent long letters
every week, and budgets of papers and reviews,
her father’s speeches, letters in which she was
mentioned, her toilets described, and then sheet
after sheet containing accounts of her gaieties, of
the people she met, the sights she saw.
Never was there more cruel kindness. She
meant well, but what was her rehearsal but a taunt
—a reminder that I was shut out forever from the
scene she graced.
I had one sweet comfort through all. Mr.
Cadogan had not followed Judie, and every day
brought me some token of his pitying remem
brance.
When I was able to receive visitors I saw him
often. He brought the magazines and read to
me. He tried over the new music which waited
for my nerveless fingers; he surrounded me with
a sense of our mutual sympathy and kindred
tastes, as he had done ever since I was old enough
to love him with a woman’s passion.
We had a long, late summer that year, and I
went out of doors for the first time since my acci
dent, on a lovely, balmy afternoon. The doctor had
forbidden my walking, and a chair had been made
for me which I could propel at will. In that I
was carried into the garden and left alone.
Mr. Cadogan. I hoped he would disobey me, but
he did not. The winter set in rigorously, with all
the dreariness of winter in a mountainous region,
and my mental excitement hindered my improve
ment. But still I did improve.
About Christmas I walked across the room—
walked up to a pier-glass at the extreme eud,
scrutinized my altered form, my painful move
ments, with horror ; and when I reached the glass,
I fainted away.
Bert Cadogan was in the room.
“Your mind is diseased more than your body,”
he said when I had revived and grown calm.
“Why not accept Miss Martindale’s invitation,
and go to the oily for a few weeks?”
“I am a beautiful object for city society,” I
sneered ; “and then,” with an after-thought that
swept my brain with a terrific gust, “I have never
told you that Judie had invited me for this winter.
How did you know it ? I meant to keep it from
you, lest you should want me to go.”
“Miss Martindale mentioned in one of her let
ters that she should expect to see you, and that
you might live as retired as you liked.”
“Iu one of her letters? You and she corres
pond, then?”
“Occasionally.”
“I did not know it.”
He made no reply, and I changed the subject,
but all night I tossed sleeplessly, fevered with
speculation as to why Judie wrote letters to Bert
Cadogan.
Oh, these vigils of sickness! They are a
fore-tasteof the Inferno. One good thing came,
however. I made a resolution — a resolution to
get well. As a preliminary step, I resolved upon
the visit to town. Mr. Cadogan would be sure to
Judie looked at me sharply but I did not return the look.
A well-known step came up the walk by-and-by,
and Mr. Cadogan joined me before I could dry
the tears which were in my eyes. He stood
beside me, and laid his hand on mine —my white
looking little hand which rested on the arm of my
chair.
“YVhat is the matter, little Laura?”
“ ‘The days that are no more, Mr. Cadogan,” I
quoted.
“Have you regrets?” he asked.
“That is a strange, cruel question. What have
I but regrets ? 1 have lost everything.”
“What do you mean by that, Laura? Y'ou have
not lost me.”
“Perhaps not yet. Deformed people retain
their friends through pity, I believe. But 1 hate
pity.”
“Y’ou have made a strange, cruel speech now.
Y'ou are not deformed. I am not your friend.
And I do not pity you, Laura. 1 pity your suf
ferings, but I love you.”
I felt the red blood rush to my cheeks.
“You love me?” I repeated slowly, almost
sceptically. “Mr. Cadogan, are you not Judie
Martindale" s lover ?”
It was his turn to flush.
I was watching him with jealous eyes, and I
saw the change that crossed his countenance, saw
him control it before he answered with a smile:
“No, Laura, I have not that honor.”
“I am not fit for your love now!” I cried bit
terly.
“Did you think it was your beauty alone that
won my hear 1 , darling?”
“I don’t know what may have won your heart,
Mr. Cadogan. I don’t feel that I have any claim
on it. Once you might have loved me, when I was
fresh and strong. But you did not. And now
that I am maimed and twisted—a helpless, hope
less invalid—there is something that smacks of
self-sacrifice in your love, and I will not have it.”
“Y'ou will have it, Laura, always; you can not
help that. You will return it, too, for 1 will make
you. Whether you will accept me as your lover,
whether you wiil marry me, I must leave to time."
I was weak and babyish. I cried.
“If this had come before—oh, Bert, you little
know how I have loved you—how I have tortured
myself believing you loved another. But now it
is too late—too late 1”
“You are gloomy and fanciful. Your hurt is
not incurable. If it were, it has not spoiled your
beauty, as you insist. Y’ou are pale—the white-
rose pallor I admire ; and, as to the twist in your
shoulder, it will come right in good time; the doc
tor assures me so.”
He had consulted the doctor, then. He was
going to take me on the strength of his assurance.
“YVe will wait .and see,” I returned, briefly,
and I turned the crank which moved my chair.
“You are going, Laura?”
“Yes.”
“Then you do not care for me. Your excuse is
mere subterfuge.”
I looked once in his face. I dared to look and
let him see my love. But then he must have seen
it a hundred times before.
“Make me a promise,” I said. “Do not talk of
love to me again till I am well.”
“Laura—and if—”
“If I am never well ? Then you must never
speak of it.”
I had put s harder task upon myself than upon
follow me thither, and 1 would see him and Judie
face to face.
(concluded next week.)
Sketches of Southern
Literature.
Southern W liters and Authors.
THE PAST AND PRESENT.
NO- 6.
By JUDGE W ILLIAM ARCHER COCKE,
of Florida.
Author of the Constitutional History of United Stales
and Common and Civil Law in United States.
The Life of John Randolph, of Roanoke, by
Hugh A. Garland; while it does not adequately
portray the mind and character of that eccentric
genius and brilliant orator, is nevertheless a
work of some merit, and is executed with very
good taste, as far as mere composition is in
volved. It is interesting in many points of civil
history, instructing to the ordinary reader, and
well deserves a favorable mention with the bet
ter class of Southern literary works, and would
stand very high if the author had studied accu
racy, as much as he did rhetoric.
There are but few works of Memoir, more in
structive and interesting than “Recollections
and Private Memoirs of Washington,” by the
venerable G. W. P. Custis. It is written in the
very best taste, and introduces the reader to the
every day life and habits of Washington.
The Life and Correspondence of James Ire
dell, of North Carolina, by G. J. McRae, is a
well prepared work, containing the history of
an able member of the Supreme Court of the
United States, interspersed with some very good
literary papers, and correspondence.
From the graceful and elegant pen of M.
Scheie de Yere, of the University of Virginia,
we have a work of rare merit and learning on
Comparative Philology; one of the most beauti
ful branches of learning connected with the
languages, and especially interesting as exhib
iting to the student the great family alliance
between the languages of the world; showing
not only a common stock, from which the ve
hicles of the thoughts of men sprang, but fur
nishing a strong and beautiful argument in
favor of the unity of the races. Wm. Von Hum
boldt, whom the great Alexander fondly loved
as a brother, and as proudly acknowledged as a
colaborer in the realms of science, was the first
of European scholars to methodize and classify
the learning of Comparative Philology, and
place it among the schools of exalted philoso
phy. M. Scheie de Vere has exhibited perhaps
mere general research; having traced by lin
guistic analysis the similarity of more than
eighty languages, embracing the different groups
of the leading families. He also delineates with
a distinct pencil the causes of the changes ftnd
decay of languages, which necessarily involved
a deep learning in the study of Humanities, and
concurrent history. Among the remarkable
features of this great literary work is the beauty
and purity of its composition. So distinot, so
luminous, so accurate in all the rhetorical re
quisitions of an English style, that the most
fastidious critio could not discover that the
author was not writing in his own mother
tongue. We would like very much to produce
an extended review of this work, but think it
better at this time to recommend it to the edu
cated readers of the country as a chef d'amvre in
this youthful but promising and important
science. This erudite scholar has also published
a Spanish Grammar, which has been highly ac
ceptable. •
He also is the author of a work of brilliancy,
and beauty, based upon scientific observations
gathered in extensive travels, entitled “Stray
Leaves from the Book of Nature.”
Gesner Harrison, who for many years adorned
the chair of Ancient Languages at the Universi
ty of Virginia, published a work of great learn
ing on the laws of Latin language.
An Atlas of the ancient kingdoms of the world,
unequaled in minuteness, accuracy, and full
ness, was published by this American savan;
and exihihits a surprising familiarity with every
feature of ancient geography—the sim qva
non to the true knowledge of acient history.
The following just compliment to Dr. Harri
son is from the pen of E. G. Goynes, of William
and Mary’s College He was indeed pre-eminent
ly excellent in all the best qualities of the man
and of the teacher, and there are thousands who
may not read these words that would gladly
join in this acknowledgement; for he was both
honored and beloved by all who came within the
sphere of his influence. For thirty years he
taught as Professor in the University of Virginia,
the past and living generation in the South, and
the loss by his retirement was irreparable to the
University, as it is now by his death to the coun
try. It were almost superfluous to speak in this
generation of his excellent qualities of character;
and the characteristics of his mind—his thor
oughness of investigation, his profound analysis,
acumen in comparison and deduction, his close
and clear reasoning, and his s mplicity and con
scientious accuracy and candor of statement,
are too deeply impressed upon all his works,
and too clearly illustrated by his pre-eminent
success as a teacher, to require more tnan a
mention here. It is to he noped that such a
man will not be permitted to fall unnoticed, but
that in quieter times hereafter some one cf his
many pupils will yet do public justice to his
character and professional career. The endur
ing value of his life’s work cannot be over-esti
mated. He was the pioneer of true philology
and classical education in the South—the first to
abandon the old superficial system and to lay
the foundation, against prejudices and difficul
ties almost insurmountable, of new and pro
founder methods, for which not only classical
phiology, but all the branches of education in
the South, will ever owe him lasting obligations.
Thomas It. Dew, first the graduate, then the
President of William and Mary College, de
serves a high position in the temple of Southern
Literature. His learning was extensive, his lit
erary taste elegant, and severely cultivated. He
was the first in this country or Europe to pub
lish a seperate and elaborate treatise on the in
fluence and tendency of restrictive laws upon
trade and commerce. This work placed him
among the first political economists of America,
and was favorably received by the political
writers of Europe. He was the first in the
United States who published an elaborate essay
in favor of negro slavery, Benj. Watkins Leiga,
the statesman and jurist, having preceded him
by the publication of his celebrated Appomat
tox Letters on the same subject.
Dew’s Lectures on the Restrictive System,
and his essay on Slavery were used as text books
at YVilliam and Mary College, and exercised a
large and healthful influence in shapirg the
sentiments of the South towards a true appreci
ation of its most vital interests. Oth r papers
from his pen have been highly creditable alike
to the writers and Southern literature, and ap
peared from time to time in the Southern Lite
rary Messenger;among them may be mentioned;
one on the “Influence of the Confederative Sys
tem of Government on Literature;” and a series
of papers on the moral, and mental characteris
tics of woman. His notes, on ancient and mod
ern history, designed for the use of his classes;
constitute the best manual for historical studies
we have yet seen; the plan is original, and the
most suggestive that could be adopted, for those
who design either an acquaintance with de-
taohed historic periods, or have the leisure and
the taste for the pursuit of a systematic and
continuous course of ancient and modern his
tory.
Among the graceful, accomplished, and elo
quent contributions to our literature, are the va
rious works of Beverly Tucker; Professor of
Law at William and Mary College—we will find
occasion to mention him in other fields of Liter
ature; in this connection we will refer to his
Lectures on the Science of Government; deliv
ered to his classes at college, and afterwards
published; apart from the beauty and spirit of
the composition, they have many deep touches
of philosophy, and political ethics, which com
mend them to the student, and the man of let
ters.
We may also introduce in this connection a
work on the Constitution of the United States
by Henry St. George Tucker; a brother of Bev
erly, also to be mentioned in other fields of in
tellectual labor. The work now alluded to, is an
elaborate and careful review of Judge Story’s
Commentaries on the Constitution of the United
States, in which he examines with minute his
torical research, and the profound investiga
tions of a jurist, and a philosopher, the State-
right principles, as contended for by the emi
nent men of the Sonth. “A brief inquiry,” by
AhelP. Upshaw, one of the Judges.
OUR KENTUCKY DEPARTMENT.
Conducted by Jos. B. Cottrell, D.D.
In our engagement with the Sunny Sooth, which
obliges us to contribute weekly to its columns
items of interest from the State of Kentucky, as
they may be gathered through correspondence,
from the press and by personal observation, the
prospect of speaking, ez cathedra, to hundreds of
old friends throughout Alabama, Florida and Miss
issippi—indeed, throughout the whole South—is
pleasant and inspiriting. We are assured by the
editors that it is their pleasure to have us write in
perfect freedom ; and therefore there is no let or
hindrance to the utterance of whatever may occur
to us as true and likely to be of interest or profit.
Realizing that there is nothing so very true but
that there is somewhat else quite as true, and
that there are limitations, modifications and ad
justments requisite to the complete rounding off
of that which, in varied unity, constitutes true
wisdom, we shall give our say from our individual
standpoint, with deference to those who occupy
other standpoints, aud who say, iu regard to the
same things, differently from us. Much that will
occur to us we will take the liberty of not saying.
A masterly refrain, as well as ingenuous deliver*
erance of opinion and sentiment, as each in its
turn is judicious, should characterize a public
speaker or writer.
Correspondents will address us at Russellville,
Kentucky.
Items only, for a few weeks, for this depart
ment. After a while we shall have articles of a
little more length.
Russellville, one of tne oldest towns of the
State, illustrated by Clay and Breckenridge, is
the seat of two colleges—a male college in flourish
ing condition, under an admirable faculty (con
trolled by the Baptists), and Logan Female College,
under the auspices of the Louisville Conference of
the M. E. Church, South. Dr. Stark, President,
has signalized this institution by an original and
independent method, making the study of the
English language, historically and philologically,
the salient feature of the curriculum. Though a
wise Latin and Greek scholar himself, after years
of teaching, he is convinced that he now pursues
the best method, and the fruits are shown in the
annual registers. The heartiest commendations
have been elicited from the foremost scholars and
educators in America and Europe.
Russellville has, in the “Belle of Kentucky Flour
Mill,” one of the best in the United State, and the
heavy shipments to all the large cities of the
South attests its popularity ; and to have a prince
ly gentleman like Col. Nimrod Long, who knows
how to utilize to noble purposes success in busi
ness, as the proprietor of such an enterprise, is a
blessing to his town and to the country at large.
The “ Courier Journal,” in a late editorial,
rather below the average of that royal paper, takes
to task the clergy for not having their sermons
smell stronger of sulphur. It thinks it Will take
flashes of tire from below to run the wretches who
are now so lawless aloft. It may be that the doc
trine of a good old orthodox hell would not be out
of place at all; but, then, it takes much ef true
gentleness and benevolence to make such a factor
effective.
Everybody in Kentucky, that reads at all, reads
the daily “ Courier-Journal,” if in reach of it, and
of late, we have been specially proud of the con
sideration it has had throughout the United States.
A brief editorial, crisp and to the point, as Wat-
terson ever writes, giving warning to the arro
gant bondholders, has literally shaken the foun
dations. The organs of the generous patrons of
the government (save the mark !) howled long and
loud. But “ whatsoever maketh manifest is light.”
It is a good thing for the country when the editor
of a journal that controls public opinion sees
things in a dry light.
Owensboro, Kentucky, is perhaps the most rap
idly improving city in the State; has two of the
best papers, the “Messenger” and the “Exam
iner ”—but, oh ! why so slow in building churches
commensurate with her need ? The Baptists alone
have reached up to that mark. Do the Methodists
come next ?
The snow ! the snow ! the beautiful—
January 3, 1878.
Fashion Notes.
Ball dresses of tulle have humming birds for
trimmings.
New portmonnaies have a place for a picture
on the cover.
The latest albums have a handle attached, by
which they may be held.
A pretty and new device for the toilet-table is
a bird cologne holder.
Whole toilet sets are shown in filagree silver,
and are the prettiest things out.
Orange blossoms for bridal dresses are per
fumed with the essence of the flower.
Bunches of orange blossoms are placed on the
instep of the satin shoes worn by brides.
The newest reception dresses are made of the
Duchess brocade, iu either pale pink, blue, or
cream color.
A ribbon an inch and a half wide, around the
waist, tied in a bow in front, is worn with the
Princess dress.
Chinese and Japanese vie with each other for
supremacy in decorations, almost to the exclu
sion of other styles.
New photograph stands are in the shape of an
open book held by a Cupid, the bookstand and
Cupid all in gilt.
White lace mittens are more stilish for even
ing wear than kid gloves; they afford an oppor
tunity for a fine display of rings.
Mr. Fechter made his reappearance in New
York, at the Broadway Theatre, in “Monte Cris-
to," awakening that enthusiasm natural on the
return of an actor of snoh acknowledged gifts.
There is but little change iu Mr. Fechter’s
ideal of the Count of Monte Cristo. His pro
nunciation of the language is somewhat improv
ed, perhaps, and his power to grasp picturesque
and passionate situations deepened,
PERSONALS.
Wm. E. Chandler denies that Mr. A. G. Bless
ing is A. Great Blessing.
Jim Bennett will publish the Herald in New
York and the ’Erald in London.
Ex-Govenor Bullock was acquitted, after
thirty minutes, by a Georgia jury.
A San Francisco young man stabbed his
mother; “breakfast wasn’t ready.”
Archibald Gordon, of Granville, N. C., is the
father of twenty-seven sons, by one wife.
Sothern is adapting Ikkiesiazousia, one of
Aristophanes’ comedies, for the stage. It is
a rousing Greek chorus, and all the female char
acters are stipulated to be brunettes. Blondes
to the rear!
Labouchere, the editor of London Truth, Was
attache of the British legation here Ijonce, after-
wards-member of parliament, for Middlesex,
and has essayed, unsuccessfully, of conrse, the
atrical management.
Thnrlow Weed had a dangerously bad fall on
the ice, crossing Union Square. This is the
second in three months, and serious consequen
ces are feared. Mr. Weed is eighty years of age,
but mentally active,
The Pope continues to improve in health, and
his physician is now of the opinion that his
Holiness will soon recover the use of his legs.
On Friday, his Holiness formally received the
Cardinals in his bed-room.
Drew, the temperance reformer, commenced
operations on the East Side, at Des Moins, last
night, getting over eight hundred signers to the
pledge. Several weeks’ work on the West Side
netted over four thousand recruits to the bine
ribbon.
Beecher’s church pews brought $37,000 this
year. Last year, 847,000; 1870, §63,680; 1875,
$70,310; 1874, $59,430; 1873, §60,230. Put on
the brake, Mr. Beecher; yon are on the down
grade.
Captain Eads has secured his second install
ment The report of Generals Bernard and
Wright is strongly in favor of the work. They
say that there is a channel nowhere less than
200 feet wide and 23 feet deep, from the Sonth
Pass to the deep water of the Gulf.
A dispatch from Paris annonnees the death of
General Consin-Montauban de Palikao, and
Francois Vincent Raspail, two men who have
figured somewhat prominently in recent times
in France.
The Edinburg Scotsman’s London correspon
dent understands that Lord Derby will inform
Prince Gortchakoff that the British Government
is decidedly opposed to Russia making peace
without the conditions being first communica
ted to England a and the other great powers.