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About Weekly constitutionalist. (Augusta, Ga.) 185?-1877 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 2, 1868)
THE WEEKLY CONSTITUTIONALIST [F.om the Wilmington Journal, Truck Farming. We trust the experiments of the past sea son proved sufficiently remunerative to in duce our farmers to undertake, upon a more enlarged and improved scale, the ratsing of early vegetables for the Northern markets. With the advantages of the ex perience of last year, not only as to the cul tivation of the crop, but its transportation to-market, our farmers are in much better condition now to make the business profit able. Our railroad officials, with a liberali ty and energy truly commendable, are mak ing ample arrangements for the cheap and rapid shipment of this crop. They, too, will be Keneflttcd by the experience of the past season, and the verv tew complaints which have been made will find no cause for repetition next Spring. It seems to us advisable that vegetables should be sold at the first market which they reach. It is a long distance to carry them from our city to anv of the great Northern markets, and it would be almost impossible, were it not for the rapidity and certainty which liberal and intelligent rail road management has provided for their special transportation. We should think that sales effected in Baltimore would prove more profitable, for the small additional price which might be realized in Philadel phia and New York would not offset the additional danger of decay in their trans portation. Such only as* could stand the additional transportation could be profita bly sent forward by the Balt’more pur chaser. In the next place, our shippers should not divide their crops too much. Ordi narily, competition is the life of trade, but this is an exception. If a shipment of one hundred barrels of green peas is made to four different dealers, you force into com petition your own produce, which mu t find a sale at once, or It is lost entirely.— One person in control of all the vegetables received during the day can sustain prices better than with several competitors. With the first shipments, at least, such arrange ments would prove profitable. These facts present advantages which we believe will not be lost upon our enterpri sing agriculturalists, and that not only will the number of persons' engaged in trucking, and the quantity of land planted in vegetables and fruit be greatly increas ed, but that the means for forcing the rap id growth and maturity of the crop will be provided. Our climate will naturally mature vegetables from two to three weeks in advance of that in and around Norfolk, but much of this natural advantage is de stroyed by artificial means. Manures, thorough cultivation and extensive hot houses are used with much success, and we must provide ourselves with these aids if we propose to compete with our enter pr.sing neighbors. In fact, by placing our crop in market in advance of the Norfolk crop, we not only reap the advantages of the fabulous prices which the earliest vege tables realize In the Northern cities, but also provide against overstocking the mar ket with the most perishable of all articles, for our crop will be sold before our more Northern friends will be able to get theirs ready. We feel persuaded that Trucking must form an important element in the rapid im provement of our immediate section, and we look for a very large increase of shipments next Spring, and tr Ist we may then announce that its success is firmly es tablished. Like every other crop, there are many uncertainties attending it, but men have grown rich most rapidly by the culti vation of vegetables, who had only the advantage of twelve hours in reaching market, while we have three weeks in cli mate. We are glad to know that at the North Wilmington is already looked to as one of the points from which to draw their earliest vegetables. Points farther South are un certain from their remoteness, adding both the time and cost of transportation. Our j first season in the business has given us a reputation, and we have ourselves been in quired of by Nortnern capitalists in regard to our land, brought to the r notice through this very business. If we can establish the lucrativeness of Truck Farming by actual results, there are few indeed who realize the benefits to be derived, both in the apprecia tion of the value of our lands and the in flux of capital in our midst. Let us make an honest effort this coming season, and Jet as begin in time. [From the N. Y. World. Rossini. The death of Rossini was not unlooked for. Announcements of his illness had been made from time to time, and his age was such that he could scarcely withstand any serious attack. For many years he had lived an inactive life at his villa near Paris, spending a few weeks now and then in the city, but content to be a looker-on, and enjoying what few men of genius have done—the growing appreciation of the world, which had only just begun to esti mate him at his true value. Rossini was the last and undoubtedly the greatest of the Southern composers who wove the ro mance and sweetness of their sunny clime into music. The story of his early life has been told often enough; how he made the impulsive people of Italy love him through his music, wandering, like another Orpheus, from Florence to Bologna and Milan and Naples, hailing the simple souls of Neopoli tans, and arresting, finally, even the atten tion of Paris. Through all the little Ital ian towns he was met like Amphlon, and feasted and showered with panegyrical praises by the people, who felt at once the freshness of his melodies and the luxury of beauty in his compositions. “If thou dost but knock at the gate of heaven with this mass,” said the priest at Naples, “in spite of all thy sins St. Peter will not have the heart to refuse thee admittance.” But he I dll not allow adulation to calm him; we find him presiding at the piano a few days | after in some village, eating a parting din- i ner with the town, and setting out in his ' verturino with a portmanteau full of music paper and with a few sequins in his pocket, went leisurely on to new victories. Later we find him borne upward, as it were, un consciously, to the position of director of the two theatres in Naples, and, like his own Figaro, undertaking a hundred commis sions with a light heart, very few of which he was to execute. Then we hear of him in Rome, Venice, Milin, flinging with his wonderful fecund genius the treasures of his imagination upon each city. Opera follow ed opera; the populace worshipped him with his melodies in their mouths; his strains were heard all through the moonlight at Venice, and were wafted out over the Gold en Shell at Palermo; they mingled with the sunset at Avignon, and were borne across the mountains into France. Gon doliers chanted them and cathedrals trem bled with them. Not even Cimarosa, nor Paisiello, nor Paer had poured forth melody in such delicious abundance. No other divinely-strung “ tunespinner” had been half so bewitching. The common world felt his lightness, his brilliancy, his sweetness, and acknowledged his subtle fancy, his delicate imagination, and his indescribable charm. The deft flngers.that embroidered the golden legends of the South with minstrelsy, and, like those of Midas, turned Into riches the commonest of clay, were not, however, to sway the Northern world without the keenest and most able opposition. When Rossini wrote his “ Guillaume Tell” for Paris, lie was in the full maturity 01 his powers. It is true, some intimation of this splendor was heard in “ La Gazza Ladra” and “ Semiramide,” but in “ William Tell” he reached his zenith of dramatic, excellence and fashioned delicacy and grandeur, superb ornamentation and elaborate science, into such a perfect whole that the attention ot the critical world was challenged, and that scientific school just coming into view was for the moment hushed by the old potency of inspiration. Then commenced that war of critics which raged contempo rary with the production of “ Les Hugue nots ” and “ Le Diablethen came Meyer beer in his master work. “ William Tell ” was not successful tn London until 1861; indeed. Rossini was himself snubbed by the scientific critics and amateurs of that city when he was singing at the Marlborough House, as they have since snubbed Wag ner, and delighted to tell how he has wast ed his talents on subjects utterly unworthy of him, how little dramatic interest there was in his works, and how immeasurably the world had outgrown his efforts. We must recollect that Germany was then just claiming attention for its studied art. Or chestral music was making a strong ad vance from the East, and bringing with it all kinds of dimly understood theories of inteilectiMl change and harmonic improve ment. Rossini, with his “ William Tell,” stood the last magnificent exponent of Italy, and his work was the culmination of the romance and sympathetic art of that nation. But, said the world, full of antici pations of a German revelation, we are tired of moonlight and intrigues, nursery tales, Cinderella, and magpies and gorgeous barbaric pomp, Semlramis, with her florid utterances, and Seville with its troubadors; and all the pageant of tenderness and the in toxication ofsound must give way to passion and the grandeur and intensity of an age that has outgrown barcaroles and sarabands. So they pointed to '* Les Huguenots.” Then it was that Rossini, in the prime of his powers, with myriads of fancies yet unexpressed, under cover of his “ William Tell,” retired entirely from the world of art. For nearly forty years he obstinately and strangely remained mute. In his villa near Paris he gave himself up to an indolent silence, con tent to watch the eager world battling over his gifts, raising successively one composer after another upon Its pedestal and ringing the new acclaim, but returning disappoint ed and wearied to his best operas only to feci more and more the freshness and beauty that breathed through them. It is thus we pay tribute, even in our splendid intellec tual progression, to the blandishments of Tuscan strings, saying with the heart that music, after all, is older thau the world, and only those human harps through which the eternal melodies float can touch our souls. Everywhere it is the whisper of the deity— that voice heard in the garden at the cool of the day, leading men through yellow meads of asphodel after the lost purity, and when woven away into the mere brain work of human philosophy, becoming the empty filigree of reason that moves, per chance, the piamater but leaves the heart irresponsive and mute. Baron James Bothschild. Baron James Rothschild, the fifth and t last surviving child of Meyer Anselm i Rothschild, the founder of the great bank ; ing house of the Rothschilds, died on Sun l day, at his residence in Paris. This world-renowned family are of Ger i man descent from the Israelitish race.— • Meyer Anselm Rothschild was born in Frankfort-on-the-Main in 1743. In early life he was educated for the rabbinical order, but afterward begun business as a small trader, and eventually obtained a situation in a banking house at Hanover. Subse quently he returned to Frankfort, where, after having engaged in the banking busi ness on his own account, he became the banker of William IX, the Landgrave of Hesse. Meyer Anselm first became known as a negotiator of Government loans in 1792 by procuring from the Landgrave an amount of money sufficient to pay the ran som imposed by the Frencli General Gustine upon the people of Frankfort, as an alterna tive of the sacking of tiieir city. This in cident caused his services to be afterward frequently in demand among the smaller German potentates. In 1806 Napoleon de creed that the States of the sovereigns of Hesse Cassel and Brunswick were forfeited, and sent an army to enforce the decree.— The Elector of Hesse decided on fleeing, but being the possessor of $5,000,000 in silver, which he was unwilling to g’ve up to Na poleon, he was in a quandary as to what he should do with it. Sending for Rothschild he offered him the use of the money without interest if he would remove it to a place of safety. The offer was accepted, and the 1 great sum was enjoyed by the banker and his two sons until the nanishment of Na poleon to Elba, when the Elector gave notice that he would withdraw it. The re turn of Napoleon, however, caused the Elector so much alarm that he urged the Rothschilds to keep his treasures at the in terest of two per cent, per annum, which they did until 1823. The faithful and able management ofthe Rothschilds won for them the confidence of courts and financiers.— Meyer Anselm had ten children, five of them sons, all of whom survived him. The eldest, Anselm, who became his fath er’s partner and successor at Frankfort, was born June 12, 1773, and died Decem ber 6, 1855. The second, Solomon (born September 9, 1774, died July, 1855), was the head of the Vienna branch of the firm. The third, Nathan Meyer (born Septenv ber 16, 1777, died at Frankfort, July 28, 1836), settled in London in 1798, and after ward obtained the reputation of being the ablest financier of the family. The fourth, Charles (born April 24, 1788, died March 10, 1855), settled in Naples in 1821. The five brothers constituted but one firm, in which each had an equal interest, but transacted business under five branches, each being in the charge of one of the brothers. Nathan Rothschild is said to have realized $1,000,000 by knowing the result of Waterloo eight hours before the British Government. For many years the houses have been the takers of the loans of the European Governments, and have in more than one instance prevented war by refusing to furnish its sinews. Between the years 1850 and 1862 they furnished in loans, $200,000,000 to England, $50,000,000 to Austria, $40,000,000 to Prussia, SBO,- 000,000 to France, $50,000,000 to Naples $25,000,000 to Russia, $12,000,000 to Bra zil, and various smaller amounts to minor States. The leading active partner for the past few years has been the Baron Nathan Lionel de Rothschilds, of London, son of Nathan, born in London 1808, and, suc ceeding his father as head of the London branch, in 1836. In 1847 he was elected to Parliament, but refusing to take the oath of office “ on the true faith of a Christian,” did not take his seat although regularly re-elect ed, until 1858, when the disabilities were removed. As the members of the family have generally intermarried, their immense wealth will in all probability remain in their hands for many years. The Baron James was born at Frankfort, May 15, 1792, and established himself at Paris in 1812. A few years subsequently, for emi nent services rendered to Austria, he re- ceived, the title of Consul General of the Austrian Empire in France—an honor which he held until his death. After the restoration of the Bourbons, large num bers of the scions of the aneienne noblesse had recourse to him for financial relief. In 1830 he presented for the relief of the wounded during the three days of revolu tion the sum of 12,000 francs* After the construction of the St. Germain Railroad, to which he mainly contributed, he engaged in and completed the construction of the great Northern Railroad. In 1847, when provisions were scarce, numerous pam phleteers hurled their shafts at him, and so great was the popular feeling against him that his apologists could do but little to influence public opinion in his favor. In the following year the pillage ot Ids coun try seat at Suresnes was one of the first acta of revolutionary violence. He remain ed, however, at Paris, under the protection of Mr. Caussidiere, and having contributed 50,000 francs for the relief of the wounded, the angry feelings became appeased to such a degree that he could again engage in his banking affairs. The change in the public mind, however, was of such a character, that under the Empire of Napoleon HI the part he took in great matters of State was not so important as during the reign of Louis Phillipe and his predecessor. Amons the many orders with which he was deco rated the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor is perhaps the greatest. In early life he was married to the daughter of his brother Solomon. A large irumbcr of syna gogues and Israelitish establishments, such as the hospital of the Rue Picpua, owe their erection to his munificence. [London Letter to the New York World 14th. The Archbishop of Canterbury. FAT THINGS AT THE DISPOSAL OF THE ENG LISH PRIMATE. Can it be really true that Mr. Disraeli puts spiders into the biscuits ot all the old office holders in the kingdom, and kills them off, one after the other, so as to have the pleasure and the advantage of promot ing and taking care of his own friends ? No premier has ever had such an extraor dinary run of luck as has beeu his, in this way. By the death of the Archbishop of Canterbury, which occurred on Wednesday, the most valuable church appointment in the kingdom falls into Mr. Disraeli’s hands. Dr. Longley, the late Primate, was 74 years old. He was a good man, of considerable learning, of dignified presence, and a believer in letting things alone. He was extremely adverse to dealing boldly with church questions brought before him for de cision; and the growth of ritualism must be ascribed, in a great measure, to his tem porizing policy. The name and titles of this prelate were “ The Right Hon. and Most Rev. Charles Thomas Longley, D. D., Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, Primate of All England, and Metropolitan.” He was the fifth son of Mr. John Longley, Recorder of Rochester, and Magistrate of the Thames Police Court. He was educated at Christ Church, Oxford ; was for a while a tutor ; and was ordained priest in 1819. His first curacy was t.iat of Cowley, Oxon, which he obtained in 1819. From 1829 until 1836 he was head master of Har row School; and in the latter year he was elevated to the Episcopal bench, as the Bishop of Risson. He subseqently be came Bishop of Durham ; and on the deith of Archbishop Musgrave, in 1860, he was translated to York. In 1862, on the death of Archbishop Sumner, he was raised to the Metropolitan See and the Primacy. The Primate, by virtue of his office, is a member of the Privy Council, and he has also other high privileges and powers. All the other bishops of the Church are only “ Divina Permissione,” but the Primate is “ Divina Providentia.” He has five prelates to minister to him—the Bishop of London is his dean ; the Bishop ot Winchester is his sub-dean ; the Bishop of Lincoln is his chancellor ; the Bishop of Salisbury is his precenter; and the Bishop of Rochester is his chaplain. His diocese contains 257 parishes and numerous chapels in other dioceses which are termed the “ peculiars ” of the Primate. The annual value of the See is £15,000, and the Primate has 177 liv ings in his gift. Besides his spiritual dignities he is a temporal peer, taking pre cedence of all but those of the royal blood. One of the most creditable things about the late primate is that he never incurred th) change of nepotism in the dis’ribution of his ecclesiastical patronage. He had three sons, neither of whom chose the church as a profession. One is a barrister; the other two are in the army. His daughter is the wife of the Rev. George Bourke (a brother of the Earl of Mayo), and his grace gave to his son-in-law a living worth £6OO a year. When a living became vacant, it was his practice to promote a clergyman holding a smaller benefice and to give the clergy man’s place to some poor curate. He has died at a very critical moment for the Church of England. If, however, the va cancy made by his death be filled by the promotion of the Archbishop of York, as is most probable, there will be no great change felt. [ From the Paris Siecle. Fallen Sovereigns—The Wrec s of Eoyalty. At the moment when the Queen of Spain, who might so easily have retained her throne, is compelled to seek an asylum abroad, it cannot be uninteresting to men tion the names of the princes who, within the last half century, by circumstances foreseen or unforseen, by their own fault or in consequence of unwise resistance, by false calculations or enterprises which could not possibly succeed, have fallen from power or have lost a portion of they - au thority. The great conqueror of the cen tury, he who transmuted the French Re public into a sort of universal monarchy. Napoleon I, was thrown down definitively in 1815. His brothers, the Kings Jerome and Joseph, had already succumbed. Murat, King of Naples, disappeared soon after. Immediately upon being restored, the Bour bon monarchy in Spain began to totter. It lost all its American colonies, which became Republics, and Ferdinand VII was kept on the throne only by the French ex pedition in 1823. In the following year took place the fall of Iturbide, Emperor of Mexico. The Sultan of Turkey was shortly afterward deprived of Greece, which was proclaimed an independent monarchy on the 3d of February, 1830. In the same year fell the Dey of Algiers, and also Charles X led on by M. de Pulignace and the Ultra Legitimist and Clerical faction. The King of Holland lost Belgium, that is to say, one half of his States, on the 25th of August, and the deposition of the House of Orange Nassau was proclaimed at Brussels. The Duke Charles, of Brunswick, was, on the 7th of September, 1830, driven from his do minions by an insurrection. The Czar, at the same epoch, lost Poland for a time. In 1833, the too famous Don Miguel, King of Portugal, was compelled to cede the crown to Dona Maria, daugh ter of Don Pedro, who still retains the sovereignty of Brazil. Louis Phlllippe was sacrificed to the faults and obstinacy of M. Guizot. On the first of December 1848, the Emperor Ferdinand, of Austria, had to abdicate in order to avoid being ex pelled. At that epoch Pius IX was brought back to, and has since been supported at Rome, only by French arms. Austria, for a short time, lost possession of'Hungary.— The King of Prussia, Frederick William IX, threatened all along from 1848, was forced, on the 6th of February, 1850, totake an oath to preserve the Prussian charter.— In 1855, Nicholas I died of vexation and wounded self-love, because he was stopped on the road to Constantinople. In 1859, the Duke of Modena, the Duchess of Parma, and the Grand Duke of Tuscany were struck out from the list of reigning Princes. Soulouque, the Emperor of Hayti, was hurled from his throne on the 15th of January, 1859.' In the following year, Francis 11, King of Naples, saw Garibaldi enter his capital on the 7th of September, and again another deposition was announc ed. Otho, King of the Helenes, was driven from his throne by an insurrection in 1862. Three years later, Prince Couza lost the quasl-sovereignty of Routnania. In 1866 the Emperor of Austria definitely gave Vene tia, the surrender of which may, perhaps, have saved his empire. In the same year Prussia overthrew the thrones of Hanover, Nassau, Brunswick and Electoral Hesse; and Maximillian fell in Mexico. During all this lapse of time no constitutional monarchy has been disturbed—no revolution has taken place in England or in Sweden, where the young dynasty continues; in Belgium the royal house has survived the storms of 1858 ; so in Portugal; in the United States no President has been overthrown, witli the exception of the Confederate leader, Jef ferson Davis, now engaged in commercial affairs. The military presidents and dicta tors in the South American States, have been, on the other hand, sent adrift, each alternately by the others. Such is a sketch ofthe downfall o.‘ monarchies within the last half century. Every reader will draw from it the conclusion which is most agree able to his opiniqps, be they royalist or in favor of the popular cause. To reproach the latter, however, with so many vicissi tudes would be difficult. • Dumas —He Talks Over His Loves. Alexander Dumas says, in one of his re cent articles in the feuilleton of the Pelite Press: The public has often been guilty of the, tome, flattering impertinence of displaying a great deal of curiosity in regard to the affairs of the heart in which I was con cerned. Ladies with whom I was but very superficially acquainted became, in conse quence, the cynosures of millions of eyes. Strange to say, no one has ever - known or written anything about the girl who at first kindled tender emotions in my heart. I was at that time but nineteen years old, but most desperately in love. With whom ? Ah, with the daughter of my next-door neighbor, a bourgeois who had recently come from Marseilles to Paris. He had es tablished a little fruit store, where young Adele, a dark-eyed and dark-haired beauty of sixteen, sold lemons and oranges. She must have wondered at my fondness for oranges, figs, &c., for all my spare change was invariably spent at her father’s store. I knew when she was there alone, and her. familiar greeting, “ Bonjour, M. Dumas,” accompanied with a little nod of the head and a kind glance, never failed to throw me into ecstaeies of delight. I thought no young girl was like her, and once, when she happened to touch my hand, I frit like the happiest of mortals. The idea that she might one day become Madame Alex ander Dumas filled me with indescribable bliss. Alas ’. one morning I was told that she was engaged to a neighbor, a sign painter, a fellow with a big mustache, who henceforth became in my eyes the embodi ment of all that is vile, contemptible and hateful. He did marry my enamorata; and few days of my life were more full of wretchedness and despair than her wed ding day. I had written two dozen love songs about her; some of them were not so bad ; but I flnng them with an impreca ion into the fire, while Adele and her bride groom were at the Mairie. Perhaps she never knew how passionately I was in love with her; for, to my extreme disgust, I saw that she lived very happily with her husband; and a year afterward, when I happened to pass by her father’s store, she hailed me, and, with the most innocent air in the world, showed me her little babv, asking me naively if I did not think that it was a fine looking boy, and that it looked very much like her husband. That ques tion cut m» to the quick. I then extended my hatred from the father to his infant son, and I did not forgive the pretty little mother for long weeks as erward for tor menting me, unwittingly, so cruelly. Ten years afterward I met her again. She was very poor—her husband had become a drunkard. It afforded me the greatest pleasure to render her some services. I procured her a place as bar-woman at the Odeon. She had grown prematurely old. as Provencales will do, unless they are very happy and treated with extreme tender ness. She may be alive vet, for aught I know. Without being a'ware of it, she played a great role in my early life. Isabella's Favorite —A Suggestive Text for a Sermon.— The Pall Mall Ga zette says: When it was said a little while since that Marfori had gone to Brussels to demand satisfaction of M. Henri Rochefort for cer tain unpleasant observations on the conduct of the Spaniard’s august mistress, we had little expectation that such an encounter as that gentleman proposed would come off. But according to rumor in Paris, the duel has been actually fought, and M. Rochefort has been wounded. This brings back the question which must have occurred to many people when M. Marfori’s intention was first rumored —Was M. Rochefort obliged to go out with such a man ? We do not pretend to be learned in the code of honor, but is there not, was there not, some provision in it, excluding from its privileges men who had forfeited the consideration due to a gentleman ? Now all the world may be in a con spiracy against M. Marfori, for anything we know to the contrary; but what all the world says of him is so much to his dis credit that .supposing it to be true, he has forfeited all right to call himself a gentle man. What is said of a woman who be comes a “ favorite ?” What ought to be said of a man who becomes a “ favorite ?” To us it seems that M. Marfori is either in famously wronged, or he is a person dis qualified from appealing to any code of honor whatsoever. One of the most signi ficant and disgraceful stories of the time is that which describes the Queen of Spain, the King her husband, and M. Marfori, be taking themselves all in one coach together from the scene of their glory in Spain.— Perhaps that story is not true either; but if true it is one of the prettiest texts for a sermon at present before the world. A Sorry Boy.—A few months ago, as a lady connected with a certain mission, was visiting one of the institutions for the reformation of juvenile delinquents, she asked the different urchins for what misdemeanors they were in there. It went on 'ill she came to a rather hard-looking boy, who evidently didn’t Hke the “ system,” when she inquired : “ What are you in here for?” “For stealing a coat, marm.” “Well, arn’t you sorry for it?” “Yea,” (grimly) “Won’t you try and do better next'time?” “Yes—l’ll steal two.” [From the Manchester (Eng.) Guardian, 7th. The "Countess of Derwentwater-” HER HABITATION DEMOLISHED—CURIOUS SCENE. The forcible removal from the highway at Hexham of the poor lady thus styling herself was accomplished yesterday. It was, it ap pears, upon the district surveyor, Mr. H. Wil son, that the unpleasant task devolved. The “Countess ” would not listen to the represen tations made to her by that gentleman, but treated him and his.attendants with the cold story of ber claims to the Derwentwater estates, in support of which claim she pro duced an envelope and some other documents from the Foreign Office, in which it is stated she was described as “ Amelia, Countess of Derwentw.iter.” She was urged to give up her encampment peaceably, and was told that a carriage was at hand in which she might drive whither she chose ; but this was met with the somewhat perplexing question, “ Where tun I to go to ?” At length the surveyor gave the word, and his men fell to razing* the “ Coun tess’ ’’ habitation, a small wooden structure covered with a tarpa tiling. The scene is thus described by a local paper : “Up to this time there was not the slightest movement on the part of the Countess’ friends and attendants to remove the plenishings of the habitation. But at the drawing of the third nail an%ctive * bun dle and go ’ movement became perceptible.— The various traps were of a very miscellaneous character, from a coffee pot and bottles up to a portmanteau, and the ‘ settle ’ constructed of oak in rustic fashion, which did duty as a bed stead to her ladyship. Noticeable among the various articles was a small oak box, about 18 inches in length by one foot in breadth. It was strongly strapped with iron, had large, rough iron handles, and bore on the top in carved letters the initials * J. R. 1712,’ and E. R. 1624.’ A still more prominefiVobject was another old looking chest, about five feet long, two ieet broad, and two and a half feet in depth. This is one of the relics upon which the Countess relies as a strong point in her evidence.— The chest had a lock of primitive form, and bore a carved inscription, ‘Take eat, this is my body which is given for you.’ ‘So spake our blessed Lord.’ Around this was the motto, ‘The Sacriete Coffer, Dilston Chapel, 1771.’ All these articles, it was understood, were taken to Corbridge, to the residence of Mr. Carr. The four-wheel wagon was placed on the opposite side ot the read, and an inclined plane, con sisting of a ladder belonging to the Greenwich Hospital, a small plank, and one or two dried saplings, was made from it to the bottom of the wooden erection. A rope was put around the house at the ‘ easing,’ and by the aid of a horse yoked to it in the park on the opposite side of the hedge from the wagon, It was pulled down on the inclined plane. In its fall, the ladder snapped and caused a good deal of mer riment among the bystanders, who continued to ‘ chaff’ Mr. Wilson. That officer, however, exercised the greatest patience, and after about an hour’s work he got the erection safely on to the wagon, and, turning to his tormentors, he triumphantly and laconically exclaimed, ‘You may laugh now.’ The next and final stage was by far the most trying to the survey or. There was the poor Countess, now strip ped of her miserable tent, obstinately sitting in the chair—in which, she asserted, she was placed by the orders ot Mr. Grey—shaded by an umbrella, accompanied by her faithful fe male attendant, who crouched beside her under a --imilar protection from the elements. The weather was bitterly cold, and the sight was indeed an aflecting one. No man in the exer cise of a disagreeable duty could have acted with greater kindness and discretion than did Mr. Wilson. Reused every art to induce the Countess to leave the chair without compelling him to resort to force, but all was of no avail. At length he was compelled to press it forward by the top, on her ladyship, who, along with the assistance of Mr. Carr and ber attendants, was thus compelled to stand np. She was dressed in blade,- wore a white water-proof cloak, a neat head-dress and white veil, and a sword by her side, and upon the whole appear ed to be stronger than one would have exped ed from the state of her health the day before. She simply moved a pace backward into the ditch, and seated herself on a carpet, where she remained at a late hour on Thursday night.” A New Propelling Power for Street Railroad Cars.—Mr. A. A. Wilder, of this city, has completed an invention which, in the opinion of a large number of scientific gentle men who have witnessed its operations, is des tined to revolutionize the whole system of street railroading. Mr. Wilder’s invention con sists of a steam condenser and appliances for attaching a locomotive engine to the forward platform of the car in such a manner that neither steam, smoke nor cinders can escape, and the noise made by the machinery is not so great as that produced by the working of a sewing machine. The boiler is located upon the platform, and occupies a space twenty inches in diameter, with an altitude of three feet, while the engine is completely hidden under the body of the car, and protected from dust, frost, snow, &c., by a substantial casing of wood and galvanized iron. The propelling power is an endless chain, capable of sustaining a strain three times as great as the ordinary half-inch log-chain. This chain, or band, runs from the engine shaft to the forward axle, which is also connected with the hind axle by another chain of similar construction, making all four of the wheels driving-wheels. The engine has a ca pacity of six-horse power, and as the shaft makes two and one-half revolutious to one re volution of the wheels, it will be seen that the latter reach fifteen-horse power. This increase of torce is calculated to be of great advantage in starting the car and in turning curves.— Another obvious advantage is the plan for heat ing the car in Winter, which may be done by running pipes under the seats, through which the steam passes on its way from the boiler to the condenser, the latter being situated at the rear end of the car. When no artificial heat is required, the pipes may be disconnected with the boiler, and the steam will all pass through another pipe rm ning under the car to the con denser, from which it escapes by slow drop ’ pings in the form of water. By using anthracite «oal and a base burner no sparks are emitted, and everything is kept free from dirt and smoke.— Detroit Free Press. Here is a portrait of General Prim, taken from Aewe Freie Presse, of Vienna : “ General Prim wears a common military tunic, with two golden stars on the collar, and a white kepi similar to that of the Spanish cavalry, with a broad gold border. This is all that shows him to be a soldier. When in a civilian’s dress, he gives you the idea of a drawing room dandy, with a hobby for riding, hunting and love ad ventures. There is nothing martial about him, no roughness—not even soldierly .plainness in his character ; and his manne.' is not In the slightest degree that of a swash-buckler. He is slight, well formed, barely above the middle height, and when on horseback looks like any thing but a Mars. But his bead is far more at tractive than a dozen ordinary soldiers’ heads. There is a mysterious brilliancy about it like that which distinguishes the fancy portraits of a Tintoretto. The deep, intense blackness of his large eyes, his hair, and his silky whiskers and moustache, are striking even in the South, where dark people are not wanting, and, com bined with his olive complexion, gives an im pression of strong passion. His countenance is constantly working under the impulse of an internal restlessness.” A woman in Raymond, N. H., who was mindful »f the old adage, that “ it takes a bush el of corn to fatten a hog’s tail,” actually cut off the tail of her hog as a matter of economy. She was somewhat surprised on going to the sty in a couple of hours to find “ hogge ” dead from bleeding, after the loss of his “ narrative.” The Government Agricultural Bureau esti- W e8 u the present cotton crop at 15 to 20 per Igfit. below that qf last year, the total crop of vfhich was 2,154 476 bales. r At a Democratic meeting in Hoboken, on Saturday evening, the name of Lee being men tioned, “ the audience took up the name of Lee, and loud, enthusiastic and continued cheering was given for Gen. Lee and Horatio Seymour, and supplemented by cheers for General Beauregard and Frank Blair.” Dora. BT ALFRED TENNYSON. Andßhehißnie£r IIeoSk!1^5 O ?i And often thought “J’llmaknih at them, Now Dora felt her uncle's wifi in ail” a " d Wife -’’ An " y«™a lhiyontbi r&'s ■" tht When Alien mii-r v,.-. Then there came a day T uen alien called his son and said • “ I mar.ied late but 1 would wish to see Y ’ A LTi'‘ <lch ' don my knec before I die ■ Now theSfo™ t iSX. 1 J <,n fl ” pon a match wow therefore look to Dora: she is well 1 o look to: t hr. fly too beyond her aire H h n daughter! he an di Had once hnr l words, and parted, and he died HU do 1gI ? landß; but for his Bake 1 bred For fr her .. I i Or ? ’ tako ber for your -wife • L haVe this marriage night and day For many years;” but William answered short - “ I cannot marry Dora; by my life Bhort ’ I will not marry Dora.” Then the’ old m«n not” b J ed a P hi " hand " an ‘> "Md: A nd ?? U 8 ™ al ! be for me. okTj’t ■ And’let mJh U ’ am ’ take a moDth to think, And let me have an answer to mv wi-h • ’ And y * be P-ord tbat made me, you shall pack William 0 ™ darke ? my a «’n ” P ’ usk v answered madly, bit his lina “aXhk”’'" . But Dora bore them meekly l Then hareh ’ A laborer’s daughter^ Mary MwUon° ed “ ld Wed wefi*’ But if you speak with him thkt was my sm ’ Or change a word with her he ca’ls hia^wife And"n me is none ot yourß - M y will is law.” And Dora promised, being meek. She thought And C dA? 0( ' be ’, my node’s mind will change D ’ T WfiJam • “th^’d 811 ? there was bom a n C ILs. k > th en distresses came upon him • Heart bLv y dßy be v P ap * ed bl« father’s gate” ’ • Ro?n' b j? k f n ’ and bls father helped him not it Bbe “”' d Bave > ’ wi,. . . ? by Btea lth, nor did they know ik l 11 ’*L l at laßt a fe ver seized Th.Yn * ain ’ an ? .‘ n barvest time be died, Then Dora went to Mary. Mary sat Hard thfn™ her and thought <*t y d l bi ? of Dora. Dora came and said, 8 I have obeyed my uncle until now, Thu BinDe 4f or it was all through me This evil came on William at the firat a h ) Ury ’ for t^ e “ ke of him that’s gone, And for H?i Ur 88 V’ th T WOman that hechoso, And for this orpha-, I am come to you • ther « has not been for these five years And T»in arV . e ? t - ; let “o take the boy, J •And I will set him m my uncle’s eye nl wheat * ; ? nd when his * ieart is glad A nV may Bee the r! 88 ? n L fo , r the Bake of him that’s gone.” * Ac. d n?°n a t 0 t ? e cb > ild “ nd went her way ? 8S tbe w heat, and sat upon a mound Far nff tu n P Bown ’ w here poppies grew. Far off the farmer came into the field And spied her not; for none of all his men Dare tell him Dora waited with the child; And Dora would have risen and gone to him, a \ heart failed her; and the reapers reaped, And the sun fell, and all the land was dark. t w , ben the morrow came, she rose and took I he child once more, and eat upon the mound; And made a little wreath of all the flowers That grew about, and tied it round his hat To make him pleasing In her uncle’s eye. Then when the farmer passed into the field He spied her, and left his men at work, And came and said: “ Where were you yesterday t Whose child is that! What are you doing here f” So Dora cast her eyes upon the ground, And answered softly, ‘‘This is William’s child.” And did I not,” said Allen, " Did I not Forbid you, Dora f” Dora said again: ‘‘Do with me as you will, but take the child And bless him for the sake of him that’s gone I” And Allen said, *• I see it is a trick Got up betwixt you and the woman there; I must be taught my duty, and by you I You knew my word was law, and you dared To slight it. Well—for I will take the hoy, But you go hence, and never see me more.” So saying he took the boy that cried aloud And struggled hard. The wreath of flowers fell At Dora’s feet. She bowed upon her bands. And the boy’s cry came to her from the held. More and more distant. She bowed down her head. Remembering the day when first she came; And all the things that had been. She bowed down And wept In secret; and the reapers reaped, And the sun fell, and the land was dark. Then Dora went to Mary’s house and stood Upon the threshbold. Mary saw the boy Was not with Dora She broke out iu praise To Cod, that helped her in her widowhood. And Dora said : “ My unc e took the boy ; But, Mary let me live and work with you; He says that he will never see me more.” Then, answered Mary: “ This shall nevet be, That thou should’et take my trouble on thyself. And now, I think he shall not have the boy, For he will teach him hardness, and to slight His mother; therefore you and I will go, And I will have my boy and bring him home; And I will beg of him to take thee back ; But if he will not take thee back again, Then thou and I will live within one house, And work for William’s child until he grows Os age to help us.” So the women kissed Each other, and set out and reached the farm. The door was off the latch ; they peeped and saw The boy set up betwixt his grandsire’s knees, Who thiUßt him in the hollows of his arm, And clapt him on the hands and on the cheeks, Like one that loved him; and the lad stretched out And babbled for the golden seal that bung From Alien's watch, and sparkled by the fire. Then they came in ; but when the boy beheld His mother, he cried out to come to her ; And Alien sat him down, and Mary said: “O, Father—if you let me call ycu so— I never came a begging for n.yself, Or William, or the child, but now I come For Dora; take fier back: she loves you well. O, sir, when William died he died at peace With all men; for I aked him, and he said He could not ever rue in marrying me. I had been a patient wife; but, sir, he said That he was wrong to cross his father thus; ‘ God bless him 1’ he said, ‘ and may he never know The troubles I have gone through I’ Then he turned His face and passed—unhappy that I am I But now, sir, let me have my boy, for you Will make him hard, and he will learn to slight His father’s memory; and take Dora back, And let all this be as it was before,” Bo Mary said, and Dora hid her face By Mary. There was sdence in the room; And all at once the old man burst In sobs: “ 1 have been to blame—to blame I I have killed my son I I have kited him—but loved him—my dear son I May God forgive me! —I have been to blame. Kiss me, my children 1” Then they clung about The old man’s neck, and kissed him many times, And all the man was broken with remorse; And all his love came back a hundred fold; And lor three hours he sobbed o’er William’s child. Thinking of William. ; Bo those four abede Within one house together; and as years Went forward, Marv took another mate; But Dora lived unmarried till her death. Sudden Blindness. —A most extraordinary case of sudden blindness is reported to us as happening on Thursday night last. The wife of Mr. Jones, of the firm of Scott, Jones & Co., hardware dealers, Third street, retired to bed in her usual health. During the night she waked Mr. Jones, stating that she had dreamed she was blind. Finding all right, she soon went to sleep again, but the dream was repeated. Mr. Jones immediately arose, lighted the gas, and made the alarming discovery that his wife was totally blind. The unremitted efforts to restore her sight have thus far proved unavailing. We learn that Mrs. Jones had two consins afflicted in a similar manner. [Dayton (Ohio) Ledger, November v. Bad Bargains.—A teacher in a Sunday School once remarked that he who buys the truth makes a good bargain, and inquired if any scholar recollected ah instance in Scripture of a bad bargain. “ I do,” replied a little boy. “ Esau made a bad bargain when he sold his birthright for a mess of pottage.” A second said, “Judas made a bad bargain when he sold his Lord for thirty pieces of silver.” A third observed, “ Our Lord tells us that he makes a bad bargain, who, to gain the whole world, loses his soul.” The ex-Queen of Spain was to arrive in Paris on the Bth or 10th of November. The houses taken for her on the Champs Elysees are the property of a somewhat eccentric old laay, whose mania it has been for many years to ap pear as though she wished to let these naan sions, but to ask so high a price for them that no bidder accepted her terms. The Queens agent, however, has taken her by surprise,, ana has agreed to pay 11,000 francs (that is, £440) month for them. The most singular cure of tetanus on record was that of a young girl in the Department of the Seine, where jaws were locked, as the say ing is, for one hundred and ninety-seven days.
