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CHASED 81 THE SEPOTS; The Idol's lload. A'Thrilling Story of the In dian Mutiny. COMPLETE IN TWO NUMBERS. ‘Well, Charley, curiously enough my dream was also about an extraordinary escape from danger, and was even shorter than yours. The first thing I recollect—there seems to have been something before, but what I don’t know—I was on horseback, holdings very pretty, but awfully pale, girl in front of me. We were pursued by a whole troop of cavalry, who were taking pistol shots at us. We were not more than seventy or eighty yards in front, and they were gaining on us fast just as I rode into a large, deserted tem ple. In the center was a huge stone figure. I jumped off my horse with the lady, and as I did so she said: ‘Blow my brains out, Edward; don’t let me fall alive into their hands.’ Instead of answering, I dragged her round behind the idol, pushed against one of the leaves of a dower in the carving, and the stone swung back and showed a hole just large enough to get through, with a stone staircase inside the body of the idol, made, no doubt, for the priest to go up and give responses through the mouth of the idol. How I knew of the secret entrance I have no idea. I hurried the girl through, crept in after her, and closed the stone just as our pur suers came clattering into the courtyard. That is all I remember.’ ‘Well, it is monstrously rum,’ Charley said, after a pause. ‘Did you understand what the old fellow was singing about before he gave us the pipes ? ‘Yes, I caught the general drift. It was an entreaty to Siva to give us some glimpse of fu turity which might benefit us.' We rode for another mile without a remark, and then Charley said: ‘Let’s have auother pull at our flasks and light our cheroots.’ This was done, and as it was getting late we put our horses into a canter When we were within a mile of home we draw up. ‘I feel ever so much better now, ’ Charley said. ‘We had notgot the haschish out of our heads before. How t do you account for it all, Harley ?’ ‘I account for it in this way, Charley. The opium naturally had the effect of making us both dream, and as we took equal doses of the same mixture, it is seaicely extraordinary that they should have affected the same portion of the brain and caused a certain similarity between our dreams. In all nightmares one is on the point of something terrible happening, and it was the same thing here. Not unnaturally, in both our cases out thoughts turned to the sol diers: If you remember, there was a talk at mess some little time since as to what would happen in the extremely unlikely event of the Sepoys mutinying in a body. I have no doubt that was the foundation of both our dreams. It is all natural enough now we can think over it calmly. I think, by the way, we had better agree to say nothing at all about it in the regiment.’ ‘I should think not,’ Charley said: ‘we would never hear the end of it; they would chaff us out of our lives.’ We kept our secret, and in turn came io laugh over it heartily when together; then the subject dropped, and by the ena of a year had as much escaped our minds as any other dream would nave done. Tnree months alter the affair, the regiment was ordered down to Allahabad, and the change of place no doubt helped to erase all memory of it, Three years after we had left Jubbalpore we went to Beerapore. The time is very clearly marked in my memory because the very week we arrived there Hay Courtenay, now my wife, came out from Eogland to her father, our Colonel. The instant L saw hbr I was im pressed with the idea that I knew her intimately. I recollected her face, her figure, and her very tone of voice, but where I had met with her I could not conceive. 1'pon the occasion of my first introduction to her I could not help telling her that I was convinced that we had met, and asking her if she did not remember it. No, she did not remember, but very likely she might have done so, and she suggested the names of 1 several people at whose houses we might have met. I did not know any of them. Presently she asked how long 1 had been out in India. ‘Five years,’ I said. ‘And how old, Mr. Harley,’ she asked de murely; ‘do you take me to be?’ I saw in an instant my stupidity, and was stammering out an apology, when she went on: ‘I am very little over eighteen, Mr. Harley, although I evidently look ever so many years older; but papa can certify to mv age; so I was quite a little girl when you left England.’ I apologised immensely, of course, and ex plained that it was only her extraordinary like ness to some one I had known well in England, that had so completely deceived me, that I had never taken possibilities into consideration. She was immediately down upon me about it, persisting that I considered that she looked about forty years old, but I think that the fun rather drew us together, and gave us a sort of intimacy, which helped me at the time when half the men in the station were at her feet. Of course, I saw that I had been mistaken, but the likeness haunted me for a long time, the more so that I could ne\er recall where I had known the original. I need not tell you the de tails of our love-making. At the time when the mutiny broke out, we were not actually engaged, but I bad spokeu to her father, and as I bad a fair income besides my pay, he mad6 no actual objection, although he said with great truth, that he had expected that she would have done better. He was an uncommonly good fellow though, and gave his consent, stipulating that there was to be no engagement whatever for six months from that time, so as to give her an op portunity of doing better if she chose. May and I understood each other, though I had never actually spoken fo her, and I knew that she was not a girl likely to change, so I was quite con tent to accept the stipulation. It is a proof of how completely the opium dreams had passed out of the minds both of Simmonda and myself that even when rumours of general disaffection among the Sepoys began to be current, they never once recurred to us, and even when the news of actual mutiny reach ed ns, we were just as confident as the others of the fidelity of oar own regiment. At last the tidings of murder and massacre reached us, and a thrill of horror and alarm ran through the European community. We had no white troops, and were literally at the mercy of the Sepoys. The demeanour o f the troops, how- ever remained unchanged; the native officers assured us that they were thoroughly staunch, and would defend their offioer against any reg iment of mutineers who might come. There was a regiment of natives here in cantonments with us, and these were equally quiet and well- hahaved Although we believed that there was buHiUle fear we were still in a state of great anxiety. There were four or five ladies belong ing to the two regiments, and it would have been an 8 immense relief to us if we could have got them into a place of safety, but we had no means whatever sending them away, even had there any place to send them to, which there was There was a week of suspense. I need not tell yon what we all felt, especially those who like myself had women we cared for with us. At the end of the week we had news that two of the rebel regiments from Meerut were march ing against us. Now was the trial. We paraded both regiments, and appealed to them whether they would be true to their salt. The colonel addressed our fellows as his children, asked them if he had not always treated them as such, and appealed to them if he had ever been ud- just or unkind to them. The men replied that they would die for their salt. In high spirits we met at mess, feeling assur ed that we should give a good account the next day of the mutineers from Meerut. There was a strong muster, for the two regiments had since the trouble began agreed to mess together as our number was not a large one, and the married men naturally siayed at home with their wives. On the night, however, several of the married men had come down in order to hear the talk about the probable fight to-morrow. The Colo nel was in his place at the head of the table. Dinner was over, and dessert was just put upon the table when we heard a shot at a short dis tance. and before we had even time to wonder what it meant, a crowd of Sepoys appeared at each window, and before we had time to leap to our feet, a tremendous fire was poured in upou us. Four or fiye men fell dead at once, the poor Colonel who was next to me, was struck by half-a-dozen balls. With a cry of rage and de spair, every man rushed to seize his sword; we had our pistols in our bolts; we had been or dered to wear them as part of our regular uni form, and on no account to take them oil’ eveu at meals. As I snatched up my sword, I was next to Charley Simmouds, and just as we seized them, the mutineers poured in at the windows, headed by Subadar Piran ‘I have it now,’ Charlie said; ‘it is the scene I dreramt.’ As he spoke, he fired his revolver at the Snb- adar. who fell dead in his tracks. A Sepoy close by levelled his musket and tired, Charley fell, and the fellow rushed forward to bayonet him; as he did so, I sent a ball through his he id. It was a wild tight for a minut6 or two, and then a few of us with a sudden rush together, cut our way through, darted through an open window, and out into the dark. There were shouts, shots, and screams from the officers s compounds, and fear and terror; the flames were already rising. What became of the other fellows I knew not, I made as hard as I could tear towards Garde ner’s bungalow. Snddeniy I came upon a cav alry man who wag sitting on his horse, looking at the rising flames in the bungalows. His back was towards me, and he neither saw nor noticed me till 1 ran him through the body. I leapt on his horse, and galloped down to Gardener's compound; I saw lots of Sepoys round the bung alow. lookingatit. I dashed into the compound. ‘May ! May !’ I shouted, ‘where are you?’ I had scarcely spoken, when a dark figure rushed out of a clump of hushes close by, with a scream of delight. In an instant she was on the horse before me, and shooting down a couple of fellow* who made a rush at my reins, 1 dashed out again. Stray shots were fired after us; f >r- tunately the fellows were so busy looting, that they had laid their muskets down, or we should never have got out of the compound. The scene was terrible, dimes were leaping up from all the officers’ compounds, some were running about in all directions, shouting like devils, and the awful shrieks of women rang out above the yells of the natives. I turned oft' from the parade ground, and dashed down be tween the walls of the compounds, aud in an other minute or two was in the open country. Fortunately, the cavalry were all down looting iheir own lines, or we must have been overtaken her on my horse; happily, for those screams drove me nearly mad, and would have probably killed her, for the poor ladies were all he: in timate friends. Her first question as on recovering conscious ness was to ask after her father, and to reproach herself for going away without him. I iorhore of course to enlighten her as to the certainty I had as to his late, but left her some slight hope by saying that two or three others had cut their way out at the same time with my self, and that it was of couse very possible that he was with us; as to her waiting for him it would have been infinitely worse than useless, unless he had had a similar piece of luck to mine in getting a horse, he could not by any possibility have saved her. May spoke very little during that long ride, I believe that she was certain that her father was dead, and the vague sense of loss, added to the horror of that five minutes in the garden had completely stunned her. I need not tell you about the next two or three days, hiding in woods and going cau tiously at night; once or twice I had to ride into peasants’ houses, and ask for food, and I have no doubt that information was sent by one of the natives, for on the third day I saw a party of thirty or forty native horse approaching the wood where we were hid; a man on foot was acting as their guide. It was hopeless to at tempt to he concea ed, so I at once mounted with May, and rode off upon the opposite side of the wood. The country was, however, flat and open, and we had not gone above a mile, when looking round I saw them come out of the wood full speed. Escape seemed hopeless; our horse knocked up-not by fatigue, lor except upon that first night, I had not wanted him, May rid ing while I walked beside—hut by want of food, had no great go in him, and carrying double, could not hope to escape. I instinctively turned the horse towards a ruin I saw at the foot of a hill a mile distant. I say instinctively, for I had no idea of the possibility of concealment; my intention, if I had an intention, was simply to get my back to a rock and kill as many as I could, keeping the last two barrels of my revol ver for May and myself. Certainly no thought of my dream influenced me in any w r ay; in the whirl of excitement I had never given a second thought to Charley Simmond’s exclamation. May had borne up well up to this time, but she saw all hope was gone now; and believing that she had only a few minutes to live, opened her heart to me. In spite of my frightful peril, I was happy in that pleasant time when she told me how she loved me. ‘Give me your promise that you will shoot me before they come up,’ she said, ‘you would if I were you wife, and I have a right to demand it now.’ I gave the promise, and would have kept it. It was a hard raoe to the ruins, and I believe that they could have caught us had they pressed their horses at best; but they thought themselves so perfectly sure of us, that they did not hurry much amusing themselves by firing at us with their carbines. We rode into the entrance to the rains, rather over a hundred yards ahead of them. As we did so, I saw a great stone image before us, and like a flash of lightning, the whole dream flashed across me. The chase—May’s face — the present scene—everything; as I leapt from the horse, May repeated shoot: ‘me before they come up.’ „ , , . ‘We are saved,’ I answered, to her amazement; ‘Quick! behind that image.’ I snatched the mnssuck of water and a bag of bread I had that morning obtained, from the saddle, gave the horse a blow with the flat of my sword, and hurried behind the idol, where there was only just room to get. Not a doubt entered my mind but that l should find the spring, as I had dreamt. Sure enough there was the carving just as I had seen it yesterday. I placed my hand on the leaf lets without hesitation, a small entrance mov ing hack, I hurried my amazed companion in, followed her, and turned the stone on its hinges. For a moment it seemed quite dark, but a faint light streamed in from an opening above, in the top of the idol’s head, and I soon found a mas sive bolt which shot to, so as to prevent any door being opened by accident or design when any, one was inside. Then I went up the steps into the upper parts of the body, and peeped out through case holes, not larger upon the outside than a thick knitting needle, and made, I after wards found, in the ornaments round his neck. The holes enlarging on the inside, permitted us a view all round. The niggers were in the court-yard, and had already dismounted and were preparing for a search. Looking round I saw May on her knees crying quietly to herself; a thing—I mean the crying, not the praying -which I had not seen her do since that terrible night. What I felt mvself at our escape, the circumstances of which appeared to me almost miraculous, I need not tell you. I never passed such a happy after noon as I did shut up in that idol, with the mu tineers searching about outside, firing shots at everything and rummaging high and low. I had no fears whatever of our hiding-place being dis covered. May at first pretended to be very angry that I had let her tell me how she cared for me, under the idea of instant death, when I knew all along we were going to be saved; and how, she shonld like to know, did I know of this secret. I told her that a Fakir had told me of it; I did not want to bewilder her by telling her what I have told you, and that I did not feel sure that it was the temple described until I entered and recognised the scene. Had I done so, I said, I did not know that I should have checked her, for al though, under the circumstances, I could not have spoken to her, was it not far better that we should be engaged to marry as soon as the war was over. We could hear everything that the natives said outside. They were furious at our disap pearance, and said that we must he hidden somewhere and that they would wait a week in the place rather than give us up. This was alarming, although we might, perhaps, have held out a week on our bread and water; but, fortunately, the next morning a scout rode in at full speed and said tta a column of British troops on their way towards Delhi, were coming along, aud would pass within a qnarter of a mile of the temple, and that it was, therefore, expedi ent to be off. Thiee-qnarters of an hour later we were safely among our own people; a week afterwards I married May. It was no time for ceremony then, and there was no meaus of sending her away; no place where shecould have waited un til the time of her mourning for her father was over. It was neither a time nor a place for cer emony, and so we were married quietly by the chaplain of one of the regiments, and neither of us ever regretted it since. Simmonds escaped by lying hid in the ice-house, in which, fortunately for him, were both eatables and drinkables, for three weeks, and then crawl ing away at night, unobserved by the natives of the town; the mutineers had long before marched to Delhi. He had a hard time of it before he came upon one of our parties, and when he was brought Jin P I did not think he would pull through it. He did though, and we often talk ed over our dream, which had saved both our lives; for he said he would never have thought of the ice-house had not the remembrance of what he did in his dream come into his mind as he lay on the floor. We agreed to say nothing to any one about the circumstances, as it would lead to an immensity of questioning and wonder. His silenes wa« soal«<i. muUh&k&S. h i' “ ha1 l fi — head, as we marched into Lucknow with Colin Campbell. This is the first time I have ever told it. THE END. A Tribute to the Memory of Pro fessor William Henry Waddell. The following memoir, taken from the Atlanta Constitution ofSun lay, Oat. 13th, is reproduced here as a tribute to the memory of Professor W. H. Waddell. Penned most fitly and beautifnlly by his kinsman and tellow-Presbyterian, it strik es responsive and sympathetic chords in the heart of one who esteems it a high honor to have been the pupil and friend of Proessor Waddell, and who cherishes the same faith and hope as a fellow-Christian. W. B. B. Intelligence of the death of Professor Waddell was a rude shock to the people of Georgia, aud to scholars throughout the whole country. It came upon those that knew him best and loved him most, “like a clap of thunder from a cloud less sky.” lieturning to his home from a north ern tour, undertaken more for recreation than for health—in the full 11 iw of joyous spirits and high hopes—he was suddenly stricken down by the insatiate archer. The victim was as uncon- cious of its fatal aim as those around him. How true it is that “in the midst of life we are in death !" Professor Waddell sprang from a line of dis tinguished teachers and educators. His grand father, the late Moses Waddell, D.D., devoted ALL the: would over. FASHIONS VAGARIES. Frankfort, Ind,, October 12.—An altercation occurred between Isaia%« Jarvis and George Pence, near Sedulia. last nigh^, with corn knives, resulting in the killing of Jarvis and fatally injuring Pence. The quarrel was re garding a piece of pasture. Jarvis was sixty yeors old, and wealthy. John Boyle O Rielly, nominated for auditor of Massachusetts, by the Butler convention, has declined the candidacy. He gives as his rea son for doing so that if elected he should have to choose between filling the auditor's or the editor's chair, and he perfers the latter. Oa the night of the 24th instant a crowd of men from 75 to 100 ro le into the town o f Ath ens, Ala., and fircing the j tiler to deliver the keys of the jail took therefrom Daniel McBride, a negro, who murdered a white woman near Athens on the 7th. The crowd hanged him to a tree on the spot where the murder was com mitted. At Saigon, China, on the 17sh of August, four English sailors perished, one after the other,, endeavoring to rescue a Chinese coolie who had fallen into the hold of a steamer and been choked by carbonic acid gas. Three thousand New York news boys and bootblacks were given a picnic, a ride on barges the main part of his long, busy, aud pre-emi- j to (rovernor s island and a dinner by Mr. John nently useful life to the work of educating the [ ^ tarl , Q .'_ ^ ae , iRtle felloy Willie Brook while young. Trains are not so long as last year. Elbow sleeves are very fashionable. Square and round trains divide the popular favor. Silver lynx is the leading fur for the coming winter. Moire antique plushes are found among the new goods. Double-skirted dolmans are among new im portations. The short walking dress is slowly but surely gai linggfavor. Waiscoats for the ladies will be sold^separate from the suit. The Louis Quatorz9 jacket is to be revived the coming season. The bonnet shapes of this seasons are very like those of last year. D ark plaid suits are being universally made up with an English coat. The Thyra is a felt hat, so-called forjthe.Dan- ish princess of’that name. Croizette is getting fat, and is afraid of losing her lien on publio favor. White camel’s hair wrappers, trimmed with Russian lace, are very handsome. Mary Queen of Scots bonnets and the wide ruches and ruffs worn in the time of that Queen will be worn to some extent this winter. R Figured coatings are still iu vogue for gen tlemen. Fine diagonals are preferred for dress frocks, and powdered surface for full dress. Ladies should know that spirits of ammonia, diluted a little, will, cleanse the hair very thoronghly. A Parisian milliner announces a ‘huntress’s costume,’ in velvel and satin. Boots reaching nearly to the knee, with small tassels; genuine trousers of satin such as would delight Dr. Mary Walker, and areal coat of satin,with fancy cuffs, close-fitting at the waist, where there are four buttons, worn over a long black velvet waistcoat, which it shows at the breast and below the waist—these, with a small and gentlemanly tie at the throat and a high hat.almost of the sugar- loaf form, with a band of velvet and flowers, make up the costume, It is worth mentioning that the ‘Scottwoman’ is one of the styles in travelling suits most affected, though it is ri valled in popularity by the ‘tartan of the Forty second Clan.’ A Baby's Strange Bedfellow.—That was a horrible sight which met the eyes of a young mother near Jefferson Texas. During the night she had felt something strange on her foot. In the morning.husband and wife rose early leaving the little babe—their first born child—in the bed. The mother after a while returned to look at her sleeping little one. On turning back the light coverlid, she saw a sight that almost para lyzed her with terror—a large rattle snake coiled close beside her child, its head, with forked tongue and glitering eyes, within an inch of the naked dimpeld arm of the babe. She did not scream, but moved quietly, keeping her eye fixed upon that of the snake, got her hands upon the child, then qnick as thought snatched it away from its terrible bedfellow. The snake was then killed; but it must have bitten the child as the mother snatched it away, thongh it was so slight a scratch that she in her fright, did not notice it, until the baby’s arm began to swell and grow purple. It died within a few days. Such men —if other such there be—as Wm. H. Crawford, John C. Calhoun, George McDuffie, Hugh L, L^gare, Jauies L. Pettigrn, A. B. Longstreet, I. A. Campbell, A. P. Butler, and A. H. Stephens owe their academic training chiefly to his tuition. They are but few of the many jewels in his preceptorial crown. The father ot Professor Waddell was the late James Pleasants Waddell, the most universally accom plished person in the various branches of polite learning I ever knew. Forty-six years of his ac tive and laborious life were spent in the busi ness of teaching youth. For twenty years he was of the faculty of the University of Georgia —discharging the while, at different times, with rare ability and acceptance, the duties of three separate and dissimilar chairs of the curriculum —no mean proof of the variety, extent and accu racy of his scholarly acquisitions and ac complishments. The mother of Prof. Waddell was a daughter of the Rev. Hope Hull, and sis ter of the late Hon. Asbury Hull and of Dr Henry Hull. Thus, it would seem that preceptoral life and labor had a double claim upon him—a dual, ancestral claim—derived alike from the paternal and maternal line. He was in the 45th year of his age when the dread summons came—comparatively a brief life for one so brilliant. It was a life not spent in nor made shining by the blaze of political no toriety, where mere glitter is so often mistaken for pure gold,but one passed in the quiet bowers of literature and ‘search of deep philosophy’’— wherein genuine merit, only, wins. He gradu ated in 1852, at the university with highest hon ors, in a large class of gifted competitors. He gave the first work of his. manhood-life to teach ing, as his fathers had done. In 1855 he was elected tutor of ancient languages in his alma mater: subsequently he was chosen professor thereof. His connection with the faculty of the institution began with his first election in 1855; it continued without interruption to the day of his death—coveringan unbroken term of twenty- three years. With the Latin and Greek lan guages, especially the Greek—he was critically lamiliar. It is high praise, but not extravagant eulogy, to say that he had no superior in the American scbools as a thorough master of the -Gr‘ o1 " language and literature. I once saw him casually, on the train, reading for pastime, the Antigone of Sophocles. “Where is your Greek Lexicon?” was the inquiry. “In my head, not in my pocket,” was the answer. Although he found the chiefest source of literary enjoyment in studying the unequaled masters ot Athens and of Rome, he was not unmindful of other pursuits and acquisitions. He had read gener al history, philosophically and profoundly, kept pace with the current literature of the day, and yet had time to sweep his scythe in the fields of scientific research and inquiry. Whilst his tastes and habitudes were those of j the cloistered student, he bad warm and hearty j social dispositions and affections. The social element predominated over the selfish in his nature. None more thoroughly enjoyed the so ciety of friends that he; and few could better re pay what they received in the social gathering. to the stranger his manner at first savored somewhat more of bluntness than of blandness, but it was never brusque, and a moment’s obser vation evinced that the kindliest and most gen erous of hearts beat in his breast. He could tolerate the stupid; he despised the arrogant; he abominated the vile; he loathed the mean. It was difficult for him to distinguish between the sinner and the sin—the criminal and the crime. The austtre school in which he was bred made him concrete, not abstract, in judging between the guilty and the guilt. But his fidelity in the friendships he cherished was unbounded, unfailing and almost a proverb. Slow to form attachments, when once formed they were abid ing, unselfish, enthusiastic. His active religious life began with his man hood's life. He had scarcely attained his major ity when he beoame a communicant of the Pres byterian Church— the ecclesiastical faith of his fathers—and for many years was an office-bearer in that communion. His daily walk and con versation—guileless in humanity and without spot—avouched the sincerity of his profession and the steadfastness of his faith. He edited a Latin and Greek grammar “for the use of beginners.” They are text-books in our schools and colleges; and have indissolubly linked his name with the classical culture of the century. Nor have they yet reached the pitch of favor they are destined to attain. Pi oneers of their kind as they are,years will prob ably elap.se ere they be supplanted by better-ap proved text-books of their type and aim. Sixty years ago his grandfather was called tc the presidency of the college. From that day to this some one of his name and blood have been associated with the institution, without inter mission, either as student, or tutor, or professor, or president. Professor Waddell felt a pardon able pride in the reflection that the part he there performed in contributing to the lettered glory of the State was not only without blemish or blot, but worthy of the name he bore. The University will mourn him. Although her child, he had almost become her chief. Her pupils will mourn him, They can never forget his untiring assiduity iu performance of his duty nor his unsleeping thoughtfulness of their welfare, nor how diligently and yet how kindly, he encouraged the desponding, stimu lated the slothful, warned the wayward, admon ished the ambitious: “Their hearts will be his funeral urn; And should sculptured stone be denied him, There will his name be found, when, iu turn, They lay their heads beside him.” I lovingly and sorrowfully lay this leaf upon my cousin in blood and brother in election. September 23, 1878. J. D. W. laughing and clapping his hands with delight was pushed overboard and drowned, uothing found of him but his cap. His brother Frank burst into sobs and cries cf grief and the mass of boys stood quiet and looked on soberly for five minutes; then the unaccustomed pleasure, the lunch and lemonade drew off their attention and they were soon merry as a flock of black birds. Poor little Willie was forgotten except by the brother who had been his companion and co-worker. A double tragedy took place iu a St. Louis hospital last week. Mis3 Emily Muller was nursing Miss Alice Wood to whom she was much attached. By mistake she gave her the poison of corrosive sublimate in place of mag nesia that had been prescribed—Miss Wood died in terrible agony and Miss Mailer full of self-reproachful anguish, cried out: ‘Oh it has crazed me !’ aud left the room. In a few min utes she confessed that she had taken carbolic acid, from the affects of which ahe soon after wards died. The Mary Stannard Murder —Rev. Hayden of New Haven who was accused of the murdei of the girl Mary Stannard and was discharged for want of proof, has been re-arested on the ground that new evidence has been discovered. It is now thought that the girl was poisened, as a quantity of arsenic has been found in her stomach. Rev. Hayden had previously ac knowledge buying arsenic. The girl was found dead in the woods. She had been seen with the minister a short time before, aud she had given her friends to understand that she was troubled because of a criminal intimacy between her and this man at whose house she had once lived. The Body in the Barrel.—The Silver Lake mystery—the discovery of a dea l woman packed in a barrel, has been solved after long investiga tion and the murder traced to one Reinhard who murdered his young wife Annie Degan, that he might live securely with another woman whom he married about the time he committed the deed. He packed the bo.iy in a barrel and wheeled it off on a barrow, telling his neighbors that it was a barrel of crockery. Storm and Shipwreck.—A dreadful gale of wind blew off the M issachuetts coast Satur lay and Sunday 12 h and 13 ih inst. Houses were blown down, wharves flooded, fishing-boats, schooners and steamers sunk and swamped, lumber vessels wrecked and lives lost. Last week the train on the Elevated Railway of New York, ran over a man, chopping him into pieces—Fragments of his head, limbs and body fell in a bloody shower to the street below. James Mullen, a wealthy farmer and bache lor, residing near Gower, Mo., was found last Saturday morning lying near his barn dead. The body was frightfully mangled, nearly all the flesh having been eaten off the bones by hogs. The supposition is that he fell from the barn loft, breaking his neck. Fun for tlie Family. A profane upstart—The man who sits down on a bent pin. The favorite string of a Bostonian—String beans. A West Hill woman calls her husband ‘Dark est Hour,’ because he comes home just before morning. Johnny, who has been reading of Solomon, wants to know if the queen of Sheba was any relation to those two Stiebas that devoured the forty-two children that were sassy to E'isha. As the November election approaches, the po litical speakers sent out to save the country are becoming very much in earnest. In his speech last night ODe of them yelled so loud that he burst a boil on a man standing on the opposite curb stone. There are some scenes almost too pure and sacred to be viewed by the thoughtless world. One of them is a two hundred pound woman with a mole on her chin ‘talking baby’ to an ounce and a half canary bird in a brass cage. ‘Johnny,’ said a sporting Third ward father, ‘Johnny, what have you got in your fist?’ ‘Two pears,’ said Johnny. ‘Good hand,’ said the ab sent-minded parent, ‘take the pot—'then he blushed, and, pointing to a brass ketttle, he add ed, ‘to your mother.’ The magnetic telegraph made mortal enemies of a young lady and gentleman who left Balti more Wednesday night last upon matrimony in tent: an indignant mother and an irate fa her sent a dispatch to stop them, and they were stopped. An Irishman upon his arrival in the United States, noting the great number of military ti tles, oxclaimed, ‘Wnat a devil of a battle has been fought near here, where all the privates were kilt ! ’ ‘I am a sort of a planet,’ he said in despairing tones. ‘I have just about as many quarters in a month as the moon, but they don't last me half so long.’ But he didn’t laugh, even when the bricklayer’s clerk said, ‘Gibbous a rest.’ ‘At a spelling match at Winona, the word ‘fricassee !' stumped the crowd. It finally came to Mr. A. Fields, who readily bridged the gulf. He said: ‘In my day they called fried —f-r-i-e-d.' The original way of surmounting the difficul ty created a shout of laughter. It is written in a female hand. It’s a poem, and asks: ‘What was the dream of your life?’ It was signed ‘Elfrida.’ We havn’troom for the poem, but just to quiet Elfrida we will answer her conumdrum. The dream of our life has been to be rich enough to put on a clean shirt every day, and to have two suits of clothes, with a pair of suspenders to each pair of pants. But it has never been realized, Elfrida. Castles in the air. It is promised that the Rex ball to be given in Atlanta on the 25 inst. will be a brilliant affair. Elegant fancy costumes will be worn by the fash ionables ot the city and the guests from other portions of the country. Miss Ida Dale and Mr. S. G. Miller were mar ried in Baltimore last week by Rev. Foster. A brilliant reception was given at the residence of the bride’s parents on Harlem Square, at tended by a number of prominent men and j fashionable ladies.