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146
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.)
BY AND BY.
When fortune frowns, and gathering cares perplex ms
And life's dull path seems o’er some desert dry.
When friends are false, and rough, rude spirits vex us,
Hope says “ the sky will brighten by and by.”
When duty bids us part from those who love us,
While mourning sadly o'er the sundered tie,
We stay our tears, though dark the sky above us,
And say again, “ We'll meet them by and by.”
For tho' this is a simple, oft-spoke sayings
It hath much eloquence —a deep-drawn sigh.
Love-fraught, and trusting, comes, while humbly praying
Heaven's kindly blessing on the by and by.
Yet, often do we look for that which never
Comes to our view, but still doth onward fly,
While to our longing gaze is pictured ever
The changeful vistas of the by and by.
When will we oease, as thronging woes oppress us,
To scan the future with a wistful eye ?
Never, while earth and earthly cares distress us,
And Hope can whisper of a by and by.
“ Fond Hope, then open quick the shadowy portal
That shuts my spirit 'neath yon arching sky.
For tMe 1 know, must be to many a mortal
The looked-for, never-coming by and by.
Nay, weary heart, remember in thy sorrow
That Providence is kind who doth deny
The unwise wish, us paaaeth each to-morrow,
And still we wait the fading by and by.
And we, who feel ourselves to be far-sighted,
Will never solve the problem till we die.
In Heaven, only, shall tho wrong bo righted,
And li« we'll eeaso to wish for by and by.
Lisa.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
AN INCIDENT ON THE PRAIRIE.
BY TEMPE.
In the summer of ’66 I had occasion to make
a journey, in company with some others, from
St. Louis to Santa Fe. We hail passed through
the territory now known by the name of Kan
sas, and entered on the magnificent plains which
border on tho eastern confines of New Mexico.
Here, and in the north-western part of Texas,
it is well knowD, is tho home of the Comanchcs,
a nomadic tribe of Indians, who, like tho Be
douins of the Arabian deserts, lire by hunting,
plunder and war. They are perfect masters of
the science of horsemanship, and bravo, haugh
ty and independent. At this time they were
more kindly disposed towards travellers and
emigrants passing through the country than at
any formor period, on account of the treaties en
tered into between them and the United States
government, and on account, perhaps, of the
gonorosity and paternal care exercised towards
them through the agents of their “Great Fa
ther,” as they denominate the I'resldent.
Like the I’indarriesof Tartary, (who, previous
to the year 1816, under the lead of Cheetoo,
made such dreadful ravages in northern India,)
they move with umazing rapidity lron| place to
place cm tlmir tti i»ijw, a noble animal of tlie
yarns equus, wliicß they capture with the lasso,
where ho runs wild on tho steppes adjacent to
the Kocky Mountains. Some of these horses
are very fierce, largo and active, and would com
pare favorably, in point of bottom and symme
try, with the best bloods of Arabia. A band of
those wild children of the prairie, when fully
armed and equipped for tho chase or the war
path, present an appearance picturesque in the
oxtreme, aud which is in perfect keeping with
the wild aud romantic loveliness which charao*
terizes this paradise of the hunter.
Wo were pursuing our way leisurely and
carelessly over the prairie ono day, when, as we
rounded the base of a small mound covered
with trees, we beheld a band of about one hun
dred Comanches a few hundred yards out on
the prairio to our right, whero they had been
hid from view till then by the intervening mound.
They were mounted, and something seemed to
be going on amongst them which created a great
deal of commotion and excitement. Their sud
den appearance surprised us somewhat, and we
were soon in a position to defeud ourselves; but
as they did not exhibit any hostilo intentions
towards us, or seem to be afraid on account of
our close proximity to them, we concluded to go
near and ascertain what was the matter.
As wo approached, an ludian rode towards us
making signs of a friendly nature, which gave
us greater confidence, and we moved forward
with more celerity to where the Indians were
assembled. They did not seem to notice us
much, so intent were they on the important bu
siness they seemed to have in hand, though
some of the chiefs and head men, whom we
knew, came forward and shook hands with us,
giving expression to their friendly feelings by
nods and shrugs and grunts. They were divi
ded into two bands which were separated about
fifty yards from each other.'
“ Dick,” said I to an old trapper by my side,
who understood the Comanche dialect, “ask
some one of ’em what’s going to be done.”
“ By jingo,” returned Dick, “that’s what I was
about goin’ to do. I don’t know what it all
means, but from their looks and actions, depend
on’t, there’s some fun ahead.”
Saying which, he moved his steed along side
of a mustang, on which was one of his red
skinned acquaintances. After conversing with
him a few moments, he returned to my side,
saying:
“I thought so, Graeme. It’s jes as I told
you.” Then, pointing with his finger: “Doyou
see yon giant on that big, fierce mustang? "
I nodded.
“That’s the Wolf of the Neconee branch of
this tribe. Now,” he contiuued, “do you see
that slender fellow riding quietly along in front
of the band opposite, on that prancing, cream
coloured critter? ”
“ I do,” said I.
“Well, that’s the Eagle of the Tens wish, or
middle tribe of Comantfies. Well,” ho contin
ued, “ you see these two Injuns, the big one on
the black horse and the slender one on the
cream-coloured one, both have a hankerin’ arter
the Mountain Daisy. This is the name of the
daughter of the great chief Tuckabatcliee, and
is considered the most comely maiden of all the
Comanches, as well as the most wild and mis
chievous. By jingo,” continued the trapper,
using his favourite expression, “ishe's purty and
no mistake. I’ve seed her often. She’s a per
fect flirt, though, as the sayin’ is, and she come
mighty near gittin’ the friends of the Wolf and
Eagle into a deadly fight here to-day. But ths
TMM BQTOYXS&H &3T3J Wmmmm.
matter has been partly compromised, and they
have agreed that the two chiefs, only, shall tight
—the victor to claim the maiden. They are dis
puting whether they will allow them their rifles
in the encounter, or only their bows and lances.
Ah 1 sir, it will be a fierce conflict, for both are
renowned warriors. But look I ”
While the trapper was speaking, three or four
Indians from each band had rode forward, meet
ing midway on the space between, where, after
conferring a moment with each other, they shout
ed aloud the fierce war-whoop of their tribe and
galloped back whence they started, each to their
respective party. The two champions were
seated on their steeds, whose plunging and
prancing and rearing gave evidence of their
high spirit Each was presented with bis bow
and lance, and they rode forward without their
rifles, taking their stations about sixty yards
apart, facing each other. While they thus stood
waiting for the word, three or four Indians were
busily engaged in marking out a circle, by stick
ing slender poles into the ground twenty or thir
ty feet apart, to mark its boundaries. It was
sixty or seventy yards in diameter, and within
it the encounter was to take place.
The circle was soon marked out. and the In
dians rode away, taking their stations with the
rest, leaving none within it except the two
seconds, who were conferring with each other
in regard to preliminaries about midway between
the combatants; and tho combatants them
selves, the Wolf and the Eagle, both of whom
sat on their steeds ready for, and impatiently
awaiting, the signal to commence tho conflict.
It was an exciting scene and, withal, strange
and picturesque. At the right of the party op
posite sat tbe aged chief Tuckabatchee, with his
beautiful but fickle daughter near him—the
former decked with fanciful gewgaws of almost
every colour; the latter adorned with trinkets
and whatever other paraphernalia in the cata
logue of womau’s finery is calculated to conceal
tho real and nntural beauty of the wearer.
Ranged in a line at their left, facing the circle,
but within twenty paces of it, (for none were
allowed to go nearer,) were the friends of the
Eagle. On the oilier side of the circle opposite,
with our party, were the followers and friends of
the Wolf. We all kept our seats on our horses,
except a few Indians who stood erect ou their
horses’ rumps, balancing themselves with the
halter reins and their long spears.
“By jingo," said my friend the trapper,
this puts me in mind of sorao of the old tales of
chivalry I used to read when I was a boy. A
pair of bright eyes and a graceful form was gen-
erally, as in this case, the prize contended for;
while spears and bows were the weapons
used."
“ But then," said I, “ the knights of ancient
chivalry had their bucklers, their shields aud
their coats of mail, which these red belligerents
have not.”
“Ob, as for that," he returned, “ they would
rather bo without these things than with them.
They would be only a hindrance to their action.
In lieu of them they substitute activity and ad
dress, as you will see when they commence the
conflict. But," continued tho trapper, “don’t
you think you two Indians are as noble speci
mens of humanity ns any of the ancients who
ever drew a bow or poised a lance iu defence of
his religion or his country, or attempted, with
his stroug right arm, to vindicate the superiority
of his claims to the one he loved? ”
“ Aye, or ever fought for his life or liberty," I
returned.
“ Then you agree with mo. There aro their*
horses, too, as noblo animals as e’er bore a war
rior to battle or to victory. And look with what
stern, yetvnoble dignity the duaky warriors bear
themselves 1 But see, the seconds have ended
their conference, und the signal will soon bo
given."
It was eveu so. They turned quickly from
oacli other, riding in opposite directions until
oacli cauie to tho circumference of tho circle,
whero they turned and gallopod buck, passing
each other in tho contre. This they repeated
three times, riding at right angles of the Kagle
and the Wolf shouting, as they passed, tho war
whoops of their respective tribes. Tho third
time they passed in the contre, und before the
echo of their yells had died away over the prai
rie, the Kagle and the Wolf were charging at
full speed towards each other. The noble steeds
bounded like bucks over the smooth prairie,
guided by the strong arms of their riders right
against each other; and when they came togeth
er in tho centre, tho collision was fearful. The
horso of tho Eagle fell far back upon his haunch
es, whilo the black charger of the Wolf was
thrown backward with his head beneath him,
dislocating bis arched aud magnificent neck. He
gave a few struggles, aud was dead. The Wolf
had leaped lightly from his back as he was fall
ing, and lie stood unhorsed and unharmed upon
the prairie. The lances of each, which had
been hurled with great force, passed harmlessly
by and stood quivering in the turf beyond, hav
iug been dexterously avoided by both the com
batants. The Wolf, as quick as thought, snatch-
ed an arrow from his quiver and sought, while
the Eagle was yet stunned from the collision, to
send a shaft through him; but the wary Eagle,
lcauing far over his horse’s side, hid his body
from view, and the missilo passed hissing
through the air above him. Before the Wolf
could fit another arrow to his bow, oue from the
Eagle struck deep into his breast, and he fell
lifeless against the once noble steed near him.
The Eagle, bounding from his horse, quickly
tore from him his scalp, aud waving the bloody
trophy above his head, gave a yell of victory;
then, leaping again on his charger's back, he
galloped away towards his followers, who ad
vanced with loud shouts and every demonstra
tion of joy to meet him. Scarcely noticing their
demonstration, he passed on to where the old
chief Tuckabatcliee with his daughter still sat
upon their horses. From where I stood, I could
see the old chieftain take the rein of the halter
of his daughter’s capering mustang, with her
upon him, and place it in the hand of the victo
rious Eagle, who, makings sign to his men, they
formed into line and, with the old chief at their
head, they were soon seen careering over the
prairie towards the South—the valiant Eagle
and the fickle Daisy of the Mountain bringing
up the rear.
“By jingo,” said the trapper, “that was quick
work.”
“ Very,” said I; “ but what are they going
to do now ? ” I inquired, as they seemed to be
forming into line for some purpose.
“Oh! ” said the hunter, “they are now going
to bury the dead chief. If you will wait a bit
longer you will see their funeral ceremony. It
is very interesting. Come, let’s fall into ranks.”
Accordingly we joined the company, which
moved forward under the command of the In
dian who had acted as second for the Wolf—he
being next in rank. I noticed two Indians gal
loping away towards the mound before spoken
of, who, I was told by the trapper, were gone to
dig a grave. Our company matched slowly for
ward, and were soon in a circle around the fall
en chief. The second stood near his body, and '
1 delivered a harangue, the purport of which, the j
' trapper said, was a delineation of his clcefs !
character as a waJror and a hunter He said
the Wolf was not onlv brave in a hand-to-hand
fight, but was wary and cunning, could follow
the trail of an Mpetny with the unerring sagaci
ty of a bloodhound. He said the Wolf had ta
ken a great many scalps in his time, and a great
deal of game, among the latter of which he men
tioned two gristly hears, which the Wolf fought
and killed himself He then enumerated the
circumstances whiah led to the difficulty between
the Wolf and the Eagle and stated the condi
tions of the agreement by which it had been
eettled. Those conditions, he argued, were
binding on them all until they oould bury their
chief, “and them’’ he added, as he finished his
speech, end while the lightning of hatred and
reveDge Sashed from his dark eyes, “then I for
one am ready and willing to dig up the hatchet,
unsoeath the knit and point the loaded rifle, to
the end that our enemies may bite the dust and
the Daisy of the Mountain droop her head, be
cause the screams of the Eagle are no longer
heard above its lofty peaks."
“ Well,” said thi trapper, when the orator had
finished, “ that’s a very good funeral sermon,
considering who delivered it and the subject on
which it was spoken. It’s a pity you do not un
derstand their language.”
“ I understood him first rate, but I could not
tell what he meant,* I returned.
“ Abl ” replied the hunter, good humouredly,
“ that’s the difficulty, is it ? Now tboy are going
to bury him." •* '
A rude bier ha<M>een formed out of the poles
which marked the boundaries of the circle in
which the battle was fought, and having placed
the dead chief upon it, four Indians took hold of
it and moved off towards the mound, the second
preceding them, tho rest of us following after in
double file. We soon arrived at the grave which
was not quite finished, and I embraced the op
portunity thus given to look around upon the
place, and to note tbe appearance of the Indians.
No sign of Borrow or distress was visible in their
countenances, nosound of mourning was beard,
no head was bowed in reverence. Stern, haugh
ty and silent, each Warrior stood erect, holding
the laryatt of hig mustang, carelessly watching
the gravo digger! or looking unconcernedly on
the scenery around. The placo was one of ex
ceeding beauty. : A rivulet ran near by, mur
muring its monotonous song. A lofty oak bent
its sheltering boughs above, while the ground
beneath was covered with a carpet of soft, fine
• grasß, intermingfed with flowers of every hue.
The grave was dug in a little grot at the base
of the mound, that side of which was covered
with trees, over ran in every direction
i grapevines of a lerye size, from which clusters
of dark fruit hung in great abundance. The
, blue peaks of ih#Qocky Mountains were visible
[ in the west, while to the south an ocean of prai
i rie stretched away in unbroken length us far as
the oyo could reach. Tho day was lovely. The
i sun shone in unotoudc.il splendour and the winds
were still. A deep solemnity and silence seem
od to pervade thi world of nature around us—
a fitting type of what we all should have been
in view of the cimumstances by which we were
surroimded.
The grave was woon finished, and the dead
chief lowered intolts chill depths.
“No useless coffin enclosed his bresst,
Nor In sheet nor In shroud we wound him;
Hut he Inv like a w arrior taking his rest.
With his marital cloak around him."
His bow and quiver well supplied with ar
rows, also hiagtomnhawk and knife, as well as
m some parched corn and dried venison were care
fully placed by fgaside, after which each hunter
cast into the gBHs a cedar sprig. They then
powered bushes and filled up the
grave. After Covering it with fiat storms, taken
from the branch near by, to keep the wolves
front digging up the body, each Indian leaped
upon his horse, and forming into line, they rode
once around the grave, tlien gallopped away
over the prairie towards the blue peaks in the
distance.
Well," said the trnppeij as lie looked after
them, “ they are gone, and if the wolves come
here and dig up the chief, ft will be wolves eat
ing Wolf. They didn’t seem to have much re
spect for him, then why should the wild leasts ?
Suppose we go, too, or our friends will get so far
away from us that we’ll never catch up.”
I seconded the proposition, and accordingly,
after pulling a few bunches of grapes apiece,
which we found to be very delicious, we turned
away and left the Indian chieftain “ alone in his
glory.”
AMERICAN ANTIQUITIES.
From unanswerable facts and statistics, it is
evident that the great valleys of the Ohio and
Mississippi wore once the abode of a mighty na
tion—civilized and refined—warlike and brave
—descendants of those mighty nations to whom
I have alluded, and who settled in this country
loDg before the appearance of the Saviour up
on the earth.
Near Lexington, Kentucky, are the remains of
an ancient catacomb, formed in the solid rock of
limestone. This curiosity was discovered in the
year 1176, by the early settlers of that country.
Tho mouth of the cavern was carefully concealed
with stoues, which on being removed, opened
into a cave of immense magnitude.
Tho sides of this spacious apartment were
found, upon examination, to be cut into niches
or compartments, occupied by figures represent
ing men. By further investigation these figures
were discovered to be mummies—persons pre
served by the art of embalming, and exhibited
a state of perfection equal to that known at any
time among the Egyptians; and you will bear
iu mind that this art was practised by that peo
ple, three thousand four hundred and seventy
five years, previous to this discovery in Ken
tucky. The catacomb was capable of holding
two thousand subjects.
Again there is found on the Ohio, near twenty
miles below the Wabash river, another remark
able work of antiquity. It is a very large cave,
with smooth perpeudicnlar walls, and a level
floor. The walls are covered with hieroglyphic
figures, cut in solid stone, and are well executed.
Among them are representations of animals un
known to the present generation. This cave is
one of the greatest curiosities on the Ohio, and
is connected with a dark dismal cavern, nearly
the same size which is located directly above it,
and which is accessible through a chimney-like
aperture.
When we view the ancient mounds, and Tu
mult of the West, we are lost in wonder, in view
of the number, magnitude and obsurity of their
origin. There are several hundred of these works
in the valley of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers,
and some of them are found to be filled with
thousands of human skeletons, indicating that
they were a place of deposit of the dead. They
also bear the appearance of having been conti
guous to some large and populous city.
Many strange and curious antiquities have been
from time to time exhumed from those mounds,
and it is significant, that in a great majority of
instances, there exists a remarkable resemblance
between these relics found in tbe nineteenth cen
, *ury, and articles which were known to have
I 'ecu used among the Bcman, Grecians and
> Kg' ptians, before the days of Christ?
AN AMERICAN PETRUCHIO’S
FAILURE.
Mrs. Morton was a widow—a young, pretty,
rich widow—when Dr. Charles Strahan made
her acquaintance. She was a poor but very
handsome woman when ’Squire Morton married
her, and at his death, two years after, she beiDg
the sole heir, put on her widowed weeds and
pocketed her deceased husband’s gold at the
same time.
Madam Rumor said that poor old Morton
never enjoyed a single hour after he married
her; but how should Madam Rumor know ? Os
one thing, however, I can give my readers relia
ble information. Mrs. Morton had not been a
widow twelve months ere she received, with
seeming pleasure, very decided attentions from
Dr. Strahan.
Do you inquire who Dr. Strahan was 7 Well,
he studied medicine, and be had the title of M.
D. conferred upon him, which he took great
pleasure in attaching to liis name with a grand
flourish. But it is asserted that he never had a
half dozen patients in as many years. He was
a young man of prepossessing appearance; a
ready talker upon aDy subject, and was, in fact,
first-rate company. He played the flute and
sang—was a good dancer, and an excellent part
ner at whist; besides, he had some literary rep
utation. He wrote poetry and two-column sketch
es for the Weekly Leveler, and last, though by
no means least, he dressed in good taste and in
the height of fashion. How be did it, no one
knew, but then it was no one’s business.
But I must be allowed to contradict one ru
mor which gained considerable prevalency, to
the effect that bo supported himself by his liter
ary labours; an ordinary newspaper scribbler
could hardly afford Strahan’s wardrobe.
Old ’Squire Morton had been dead but little
over a year, when Dr. Stzaiian, despite all that
gosßipers could say, married the widow and her
fortune. The fact was, he wanted a rich wife.
As to her, she was anxious to leave her weeds
and go into society agaiu; and she could devise
no readier way to accomplish these purposes
than by marrying. When any one spoke to the
doctor of her beiDg a shrew, he merely remark
ed that he should take great pleasure in taming
a shrew.
For three months they lived happily together,
for it was in the height of the season, and be
tween Cape May, Newport, Saratoga, and the
White Mountains, they were alone witli each
other scarce three hours out of the twenty-four;
consequently it was impossible for them to dis
agree. But the season was soon over, and they
returned to their quiet home—the place of all
others to study a wife or husband; for there is
no unnatural excitement, no fashionable Mrs.
A. to outdress, no profligate Mr. B. to outdo in
squandering money; no one to see or to please
but the “ other half.”
After a season of long continued gayety there
necessarily followed one of extreme dullness;
and when one is dull one is easily displeased.
Now Mr. and Mrs. Strahan were both of them
remarkably dull, and as a matter of course, both
preferred being pleased to attempting to please;
and of course, both were greatly displeased.
It was their third day at home upon which
their first quarrel commenced. How it began
neither could clearly tell. It is only known thnt
Strahan expressed a desire to dine upon roast
beef, upon which Mrs. S. said that she abomin
ated beef, and stated her preference to be ronst
turkey and oyster sauce. Strahan considered
turkey child’s fooj—he’d have beef or nothing ;
Bill’d have turkey. And thus commenced the war
of the Strahans. One ordered the butcher not
to have fowl; the other gave strict instructions
not to have beef brought into the house; be
tween them they were both likely to starve if
they remained at home; so the doctor went to
the village tavern and dined on beef, while Mrs.
S. visited some of her friends and partook of
turkey.
After dinner, Dr. S. gave a wino supper in the
room which he designated by the name of “stu
dy," a sort of variety store, in which ho kept his
library, writing desk and spittoons. Here, also,
were two glass cases, one of which contained a
giant's skeleton, huDg on wires; in the other
was an Egyptian mummy. The walls were hung
with curiosities of all descriptions; among them
a cane from a tree which grew over Washing
ton's grave, a snuff-box from the wood of the
Charter Oak, a chip from the United States frig
ate Constitution; minerals, shells and fossils of
all kinds, specimen ears of corn, enormous sized’
fruit and vegetables, cases of dried insects, and
jars of pickled reptiles. Stuffed birds were perch
ed about the apartment, and voluptuous French
lithographs and portraits of distinguished per
sonages were hung promiscuously on the walls ;
a long reading table, arm-chairs, and a prescrip-'
tion case, a mammoth bell-mettal pestle and
mortar, completed the furniture of the study.
During the same evening, Mrs. S. had a whist
party in the parlour.
Wine held her votaries in bondage longer than
cards, and Mrs. S. had dismissed her party and
retired hours before her liege lord came to his
chamber: and when he did come, he found the
door locked, himself without and his wife within.
In vain he called her, she could not and would
not hear: and he was compelled to find a bed
elsewhere, which he did, mutteriug to himself,
“ I'll tame her yet." And he lay all night form
ing a plan to bring her to submission. In the
morning he asked her to walk into his study;
and there, seated in an arm-chair, they renewed
their fierce worded quarrel—during which Mrs.
S. called her husband a heartless, brainless fel
low, who married her for money. To which the
doctor replied by calling her a low, vulgar wo
man, who was only glad to marry a professional
gentleman and author, to enable her to enter
better society. After which she toyed with her
fan, and finally pulled the bell-cord, and ordered
the servant who answered it to bring her car
riage to the door.
“Where are you going?” demanded the doc
tor.
“To ride,” replied the amiable Mrs. S.
“I will go with you, please."
“ But I do not please.”
“Then I choose to go.”
"Very well, then, you will go alone; for you
cannot go with me.”
“You cannot go unless I go with you.”
“We wUI see.”
“ Well, wo will see," and the gentleman walk
ed out of the room, locked the door, put the key
in his pocket, and left the house.
Mrs. S. did not sit down and burst into a flood
of tears, but waited patiently for the servant to
return, whom %he had sent for the carriage.—
When he arrived, she told him through the key
hole, to return the horses to the stable, and place
a ladder against the study window. The ladder
was placed according to directions, and a turkey,
witli oysters and pastry, was brought up to her.
The ladder was then removed, prepared for the
re-appearance of her husband.
About the middle of the afternoon, the doctor
returned home, stepped softly through the hall
toward the study doer, and peeped through the
keyhole, expecting to gee a striking picture of
humility and contrition.
Judge of his surprise, then, when he aaw Mrs.
8. sitting before his long reading table, on her
right his bell-metal mortar, in which was fire,
and a grate over it, on which she was roasting
his mammoth specimens of apples, sweet pota
toes, and her turkey. Next her stood his water
bath, in which she was cooking oysters, and she
occasionally stirred them with his silver spatula
on the table stood one of the bottles of wine
which had been left from a previous night's rev
elry, which the lady, for want of a champagne
opener, had deprived of its nee* with a wedge
wood pestle, and using a four-ounce graduate for
a wine glass; she had cut up champagne baskets
for firewood with an Indian tomahawk. On the
left hand stood the doctor’s writing desk, which
she had broken open, and scattered on the desk
were tender missives of his early flames, manu
script pages of tales and sketches, unpublished
odes, poems, and unpaid tailor bills, all in a huge
pile, while the lady sat reading, first a sweet
love letter, then an ode on Napoleon, and so on,
throwing them, page after page, into the fire.
Thus the husband’s brainwork and wooden curi
osities were made to cook her dinner.
The doctor looked silently as long as he could,
then-taking the key from his pocket, he unlock
ed the door and—it was bolted upon the inside.
“ Mrs. 8.!” he shouted.
"Well, sirl”
“ Open the door.”
“ I’m busy now, and can’t be disturbed.”
“ Open the door, or I’ll burst it in.”
“ Do as you please, sir, but your mummy and
giant skeleton are placed against the door, so be
careful and not break them.”
The doctor was foiled. For a few moments
he stood and thought what course it was best to
pursue. Suddenly recollecting the ladder, he
hastened down stairs and through the hall, out
doors, leaving the door unlocked and the key in
it. His footsteps had scarce died away upon
the stairway, before his wife had removed both
cases from the door, drawn the bolt and stood in
the entry. It was but the work of a moment to
throw the remaining letters, poems and manu
scripts into the fire, remove the wine and eata
bles, lock the door upon the outside, and place
the key in her pocket.
Meanwhile the doctor was raising the ladder
to the window, and by the time he had placed
it and ascended half its length, his wife and a
favorite man servant were watching him from a
lower window.
The doctor pushed up the window and jumped
in; the servant jumped out of the lower window
and pulled down the ladder. In an instant Stra
han saw that his bird had flown, and he rushed
back to the window just as the ladder reached
the groud.
“ Put that ladder back here again,” roared the
doctor from the upper window.
“Let it stay where it is," cried the wife from
the lower window.
"Put it up here instantly, or I’ll discharge
you,” bellowed the upper window.
“Let it alone, and I’ll double your wages,”
chimed in the lower window.
“Do as I tell you, blockhead,” yelled the doc
tor, with rage.
“ Come in the house, John,' 1 said Mrs. S., verv
coolly.
And John went into the house, leaving the
medical gentleman lieapiug curses upon every
body, including his wife and servant John.
All night long the doctor was kept a prisoner.
Just before she retired his wife put her lips to
the keyhole and whispered:
success in taming a shrew, doctor?”
The next morning she came to the door and
called:
“ Doctor 1”
“Madam,” replied the gentleman.
“ Should you like some breakfast ?"
“ I'm not particular.”
“There is cold turkey left, if you would like
it”
The doctor deigned no reply, and the lady
again left him alone.
During the afternoon she again tapped at the
door, and called:
“Doctor!”
“ Well, my dear,” very humbly.
“ Would you like some dinner?"
“I should.”
“ Will cold turkey do for you ?”
“ Anything, my dear.”
“If I let you out, will you promise never to
lock me up again ?”
“I will.”
“And never object to my eating turkev
again?”
“Never.”
“And never attempt to tame a shrew again?”
“Never."
“ Then—you—may—come—out.”
And the lady unlocked and threw open the
door.
To this day Dr. S. has not attempted to dictate
to his wife in what she shall eat, or when she
shall ride, and has never been heard to boast
again of “ taming a shrew."
THE STEAM PRESS.
In the course of aa eloquent address, Dr. Ful
ler said: “ Who can measure the power of the
press? An ounce of lead moulded into a bullet,
and put into a Minnie rifle, with a few grains of
powder beneath it, will do its errand sufficiently
upon a man two miles distant, if it encounter no
obstacle but that ounce of lead made into types
and put into one of Hoe’s lightning printing
presses, will go thousands of miles, and do its
errand effectively, not on one man merely, but
on millions, and that though oceans, rivers, and
mountains might intervene. A steam printing
press I Did you ever go down into one of the
spacious vaults beneath your sidewalks, and
watch the monsters ? I feel something like awe
in looking at them. I feel like taking off my hat
to the huge machine. It seems to mo like one
of Ezekiel's living creatures, with the hand of a
man, and the sound of many waters, and the
spirit of the living creature in the wheels.
It asks no nourishment, knows no weariness.
How it strips itself to its work, and toils on with
a strength that mocks to scorn the might of the
giant, and with a clamour as if it would shiver
to pieces every substance in its grasp. And yet
with a delicacy and precision unattainable by
human muscles, it receives a fabric so delicate
that a rude touch would rend it, and imprints
upon it in the twinkling of an eye that which
costs hours to compoSe. It flings off sheet after
sheet to entertain, instruct, regenerate and bless
the earth. None of us have yet begun to appre
ciate the influence of the presses an agent for
the diffusion of knowledge, whether it be in vol
umes, pamphlets, or above all, through the daily
newspaper, that moral institution which has re
volutionized not only the literary but the com
mercial and political world. It would be an un
heard-of delinquency, did not the church of God
employ this mighty agency. •
i ■ i
Time, which makes the serious soft,
Turns lightness into hardness.
—[H. Taylor.