Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, August 8, 1880, Page 11

THE METHOD OF ZADIG. Having Eyes to See, and. Using Them. onclusions from Observations, or Re- trospective Prophecy, BY PROF. T. I, HUXLEY. It isa nsual and a commendable practice to preface the discussion of the views of a philosophic thinker by some account of the man and of the circumstances which shaped his life and colored. his way of looking at things; but, though Zadig is clted inone of the most important chapters of Cuvier’s .stest work, little is known about him, and that little might perhaps be better authenti- ved than it 1s. ae said that he lived at Babylon in the time of King Moabdar; but the name of Mo- abdar does not appear in the list of Babylonian sovereigns brought to light py the patience and the industry of the decipherers of cuneiform inscriptions in these jeter years; NOT indeed am [ aware that there isauy other authority for its existence than that of tee biographer of Zadig, one Arouet de Voltaire, among whose most con- spicuous merits strict historical accuracy is srhaps hardly to be reckoned. lappily, Zadig is in the position of a great many other philosophers. What he was like when he wasin the flesh—indeed, whether he existed at all—are matters of no great consequence.. What we care about in a light is, that it shows the way,—not whether itisalamy or.candle, tallow or wax, Our only real interest in Zadig lies in the concep- « tions of which he is the putative futher; and his biographer has illustrated these with so much clearnessand vivacious illustration that we need hardly feel a pang even if critical re- search should prove King Moabdar and all the rest of the story to be unhistorical, and reduce Zadig Limself to the shadowy condi tion of asolar myth. Voltajre tells us that, disenchanted of life by sundry domestic adventures, Zadig with- drew from the turmoil of Babylon to ase- cluded retreaton the banks of the Euphra- tes, where he beguiled his solitude by the study of Nature. ‘The manifold wonders of the world of life had 2 peculiar attraction for the lonely student; incessant and patient ob- servation of the plants and animals ubout bim sharpened bis naturally good powers of observation and of reasoning, until, at Jength, he acquired a sagacity which enabled him to percelve endless minute differences among objects Which, to the untutwred eye, appeared absolutely alike. Itmight have been expected that this en- Jargement of the powers of the mind and of its store of natural knowledge could tend to nothing but the increase of a man’s own wel- fare and the good of his feltuw-men. But Zadig was tated to experience the vanity of such expectations. Que day, walking near a Uttle wood, he sav, hastening that way, one of the Queen’s Chief Eunuchs, followed by a troop of offi- cis, who appeared to be in the greatest auxlety, running hitber and thither ike men distraught, in search of some lost treasure. “*Young inan, the eunuch, ‘have you seen the Queen’s doz?” Zadig auswered odestly, ‘A bitch, I think,—not a dog.’ right,’ replied the eunuch; and Zadigz continued: ‘A very small spaniel, who has lately had puppies; she limps with the left foreleg, and bas very long ears.” ‘Ab! you have seen her, then” sald the ‘breathless eunuch. ‘No,’ answered Zudig, *I have not sven her; and I really was notaware the Queen possessed a spaniel.’ “ By an odd coincidence, at the very_same time the handsomest horse in the King’s stables broke away from bis greom in the Babylonian plains; The Grand Huntsman and all bis statf were seeking the horse with as much anxiety as the eunuch and his peo- ple the spaniel; and the Grand Huntsman ked Zadig if he had not seen the King’s ¢ go that way. ‘A first-rate galloper; small-hoofed; five feet high; tail three feet and a half- Jong; cheek-pieces of the bit of twenty-three carat oes silver ?? said Zadie, ich way did he go? Where is he? ied the Grand Huntsman, - “‘Thave not seen anything of the ho: antl never heard of him before,’ replies ig. “*The Grand Huntsman and _ the Chief Ennuch made sure that Zadig had stolen both the King’s horse and the Queen’s spaniel, ‘so they baled him before the High Court of Desterham, which at once condemned him tothe knout and transportation for life to Siberia, But the sentence was hai pro- nounced when the lost horse and Spaniel were found, So the Judges were under the painful necessity of reconsider! their de- tision; but they fined Zadig~ ounces of id for saying that he had seen that which h ¥4 fad not seen. ‘:The first thing was to pay the fine; after- ward Zadig was permitted to upen his de- fense to the Court, which he did in the fol- loying beter En “Stars of justice, abysses of knowled, wirrors of truth, whose gravity is as that of lead, whoseinflexibility is as that of iron, who tival the diainond in clearuess, and possess no litle aflinity with gold; since Lam per- itted to address your august assembly, I swear by Ormuzd. Ihave never seen the respectable lady dog of the Queen, nor be- held the sacrosanct horse of tha King of “*This is what happened: I was taking a Walk toward the little wood near miles i to be witnessed a thousand miles away; the retrospective Prophet (would that there were such a word as “backteller?’!) affirms so many hours or years “ago, such an such things were to be seen. In all these cases it is only the relation to time which alters,—the process of divination beyond the limits of possible direct knowledge remains the same. No doubtit was their instinctive recogni- tion of the analogy between Zadig’s results and those obtained by authorized inspiration which inspired the Babylonian Magi with the desire to burn the philosopher. Zadig ad- mitted that he had never either seen or heard of the horse of the King or of the spaniel of the Queen; and yet he ventured to assert in the most rositive manner that animals an- swering to their description did actually ex- ist, and ran about the plains of Babylon. If his method was good for the di- vination of the course of events ten hours old, why should it not be good for those of ten years or ten centuries past; nay, might it notextend to ten thousand years, and justify the impious in meddling with the traditions of Oannes and the fish, and all the sacred foundations of Babylonian cosmog- ony? But this was not the worst. There was another consideration wnich obviously dic- tated to the more thonghttul of the Magi the propriety of burning faale out of hand, Dis defense was worse than his offense. It showed that his mode of divination was fraught with danger to Magianisin in gen- etal. Swollen with the pride of human rea- son, he had ignored the established canons of Magian Jore; and, trusting eo what after all was mere carnal common-sense, he pro- fessed to lead men to a deeper insight into nature than Magian wisdom, with all its lofty antagonism to everything common, had ever reached. What, in fact, lay at the foundation of all Zadis’s arguments but the coarse, common- placeassumption upon which every act of our daily lives is based,-that. we may conclude from an effect to the preéxistence of a cause competent to produce that effect ? ‘The tracks were exactly like those which dogs and horses leave; therefore they were the effects of such animals as causes. The marks at. the sides of the fore-prints of the dog-track were exactlysuch.us would be produced by long, trailing ears; therefore the dog’s long ears were the causes of these marks; and s0 on. Nothing can be more hopelesly vulgar, moré unlike the majestic development of a system of grandly unin- tellicible conclusions from sublimely incon- ceivable premises, such as delizhts the Magian heart. In fact, Zadig’s method was nothing but the method of all mankind. Retrospective prophecies, far more astonish- ing fur their minute accuracy than those of Zadig, are familiar tothase who have watched the daily life of nomadic people, e From freshly-broken twigs, crushed leaves, disturbea pebbles, and imprints hardly dis- cernible by the untrained eye, such graduates in the University of Nature will divine, nut only the fact that a party has passed that way, but its strength, its composition, the course it took, and the number of, hours or days which have elapsed since it passed. But they areable todo this because, like Zadiz,they perceive endless minute differences where un- trained eyes discern nothing; and because the unconscions logic of common-sense com- pels them to account for these effects by the eauses which they know to be competent to produce them, And mere methodized savagery was to discover the hidden things of Nature better than a-priori deductions frum the nature of Ormuzd,—perhaps to give a history of the past in which Oannes would be altogether Ignored! Decidedly it were better to burn this man at once. If instinct, or an_unwonted use of reason, led Moabdar’s magi to this conclusion three or four thousand years ago, all that can be saidis; that subsequent ‘history has fully j ied them. For the rizorous application e's logic to the results of accurate and long-continued observation has founded all those sciences which have been termed his- torical or paletiological, because thoy are retrospectively prophetic, and strive toward the reconstruction in human imagination of events which have vanished and ceased to be. History, in the ordinary acceptation of the word, is based upon the interpretation of documentary evidence; and documents would have no evidential value unless historians were justified in their assumption subsequently had the honor te meet the ven- erable Chief Eunuch and the most illustrious and Huntsman. I noticed the track of an snimalin the sand, and it was easy to see that it was that of asmall dug. Long, faint Streaks upon the little elevations of sand be- re the fovt-marks convinced - ime ki it was a shedog, with pendant ugs,—showi that she must have had pees Qotmany days since. Other scrap- knw ‘of the sand, which always lay close to _ tnarks of the fure-paws, indicated that ne ‘ad very long ears; and, as the imprint cane foot was always fainter than those of Tie other three, judged that the lady dog of *ugust Queen was, if I may venture to Say 80, alittle lame. Kine Fespect tu the horse of the King of tine permit ne to observe that, wanderin T pitied Paths which traverse the wood, een al the marks of horseshoes. They reall equidistant, “Ah! said [, “this is peven feoalover.”” In a narrow alley, ouly i feet wide, the dust upon the trunks of vid pa litte aistarbed al they feat 4 rs e middle of the path. alls horse” said Ito myself, “had atail i trom and,. lashing Brept one side to the other, he has metavener, the dust.” Branches of trees i den ead at the hight of five feet, und sof knew in X saw newly-falien leaves; bone the horse had brushed some of the to it and was therefure five feet high. twenty bit, it must have been made of tazan reg carat gold, for he had rubbed wonchsione one ich turned out, to be 7 5 @ properties of whic! oalar by experiment, Lastly, by the hich his shoes left upon pebbles of thoes ind, I was led to think that his pete of fine silver,” the Judges admired Zadig’s profound tad subtle discerpmen: it, and the fame of it Finge adeven the and the Queen. From le presence-chamber, and, aren name Was in evorybody’s mouth; 7 ough many of the Masi were of the cerer, te he ought to be burned as a sor- duneds of pein Sr Me? ae a ‘hic! et Ould be restored Le y en fin Zadigis ToOMs to ocr ants’ expected fees, Those wh, Of the fay no, ate interested in learning more ne fateful history of Zadig must turn to Stginal: we are dealing with him only Hae phi a Usopher, and this brief excerpt wee for the exémplification of the nature Filey 1oUNClusions, und of the method by Uesee arrived at them. nature ¢ouelusions Tay be said to be of the itis oer neettespective prophecies; though varaseologe ae hazardous to employ ontradics ich perilously suggests 2- ey auction in terms,—the ont © prophe- 80 constantly, in ordinary use, tyes, the to “foretelling.” Strictly, how- Dutepeak ine Prophecy as much applies to the restrieteae’, to foretelling; and, even in Sous thacie’, Sense of “divination,” it is ob- tion does essence of the prophetic overa- Relation eet lie in its backward or forward it ig oe Course of tine, but in the fact Les out of wre apprehension of that which © tdge—the the sphere of immediate know!- of thee of that which tothe natural The foretaihe. is invisible, time a pro ler asserts that, at some future cert, iene guuaied observer, will wit: 3 the cla jeclares a thin presenit time, ‘cartaln % things are Ha that they have come into existence by the operation of causes similar to those of which documents are, in our present experience, the effects. If a written history can be pro- duced otherwise than by human agency, or if the man who wrote a given document was actuated by other than ordinary human mo- tives, such documents are of no more eviden- tial value than so many arabesques. Archeology, which tukes up the thread of history beyond the point at which document- ary evidence fails us, could Have no existence except for our well-grounded confi- dence that monuments and works of art, or artifice, have never been pro- duced by causes different in kind from those to which -they owe their origin. And geolugy, which traces back the course of history beyond the limits of archeology, could tel! ns-nothing except for the assump- tion that, millions of years ago, water, heat, gravitation, friction, aniinal ang vegetable life, caused effects of the saine kind ss they do now. Nay, even physical astronomy, in so far as it takes us back to the uttermost Point of time which paletiological science ean reach, is founded upon. the same as- sumption. If the law of gravitation ever failed to be true, even to the smullest extent, for that period, the calculations of the as- tronomer hav» no application. The power of prediction, of prospective prophecy, is that which is commonly re- garded as the great prerogative of physical science. And truly it is a wonderful fact that one can go into a_ shop and buy for sinall price a book, tne “ Nautical Almanac,” Which will foretell the exact position to be occupied by one of Jupiter’s moons six months hence; nay, more, that. if it were worth while, the Astronomer Royal could furnish as with as infallible a predic- tion applicable to 1990 or 2980. But astronomy is not less remarkable for its power of retrospective prophecy. ‘Thales, oldest of Greek philosophers, the dates of whose birth and death are uncer- tain, but who flourished about 600 B. C., Is said to have foretold an eclipse of the sun which took place in bis time durmg a battle between the Medes and the Lydians, Sir George Airy has written a very learned and memoir in which he proves that such an eclipse was visible in Lydia on the afternoon of the 2sth of May, in the year 535 No one doubts that, on the day and at the hour mentioned by the Astronomer Reyal, the peuple of Asia Minor saw the face of the sun. totally obscured. But, though we ii plicitly believe this retrospective. prophec! itis incapable of verification. [tis impo: ble even to conceive any means of aScertain- ing directly whether the eclipse of Thales happened or not. All that van be said is, that the prospective propheci+s of the astronomer arealways verified: and that, inasmuch as his retrospective propnecies are the result of following backward the very same metivod as , that which invariably leads ty verified results when itis worked forward, there is as much reason for placing full confidence in- tbe one as in the other. Retrospective prophecy is therefore a legitimate fimction of astronom- ical science: and if it is legitimate for one science it is legitimate for all,—the funda- mental axiom ou which it rests, the constau- cy of the order of Nature, being the common foundation of all seientitic thought. Indeed. if there can be grades in legitimacy, certain- branches of science have the advantage over astronomy, in so far as their r prophecies are not onl, cation, but are sometimes s Such a science exists in the principles of biology to the interpreta- tion of the animal and vexvtable re $ bedded in the rocks which compose the s face of the globe, which is called paleon- tolozy. A "The whole fabric of paleontology, in fact, falls to the ground unless we admit the validity of Zadiz’s great principle, that like effects. imply like causes; and that the prov- ess of reasoning from_a_ shell, or a tooth, or 2 bone, to the nature of, the aniinal & witch it belonged, rests absulutely on -the asswnp- tion that the likeness of this shell, or tooth, or bone to thatof some unimal with which We are already acquainted, iz such that we are justified in inferring a corresponding de- aid of likeness in the rest of the two organ- ms. It is on this very simple principle, and not upon imaginary laws of physiologi- eal correlation, about which, in most cases, we know nothing whatever, that the so- calles restorations of the paleontologist are aS An Intelligent Donkey. A Spanish peasant. living in the suburbs of Madrid, hus long been in the habit of repairing dailv to the city. aceomp-tnied by u donkey inden with milk for distribution among certain cus- twmiers. One day, however, the master wis taken ill, whereupon bis wife suggested that the uss should be sent on bis customary journey alone. Tho panniers were. accordingly tilled with cans of milk us usual, and a bit of paper wns attached to the donkey's headstall request- ing the customers to help themselves totheiror- ainary allowance of milk, and to put back the cuns-nto the pannier. Oi started the donkey, and be returved In due course with the cans empty, and with everything in order. The mas- THE CHICAGO. TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, ‘AUGUST 8 1880—SIXTEEN PAGES. © ter found upon inquiry that the trusty messen- gece. called at the right doors without miss- ng one, and algo that in some instances he bad Pulled the bell with bis tecth when kept waiting. ¥rom that day forward the donkey has gone hi rounds alone. . T. W. ON. INGERSOLL. Christianity and Infidelity as Under- stood by the Vetcran Journalist. New York, July 20.—To the Editor of the New York Herald: Men entertaining infidel opinions for the last twenty or more years, and untilthe appearance of Robert G. Ingersoll, have seldom obtruded themselves upon the public, There is nothing in the manner or mat- ter of modern divineg either to provoke or in- vite antagonism. Clerzymen do not, as for merly, dwell and linger upon’ the dark features of theology. Nothing is now heard of the fate of “infants nota span long.” The ministry of ourday is a ministry of peace, charity, and good-will. This generation learns to love and serve rather than to dread and distrust our Creator and our Savior.- Whatever grounds existed formerly to tempt scoffers and _revilers, the religion of our time disarms and silences unprejudiced criticism, Col. Ingersoll, whom Ido not know, has the reputation of being a gentleman of education, with a well-stored mind and attractive personal manners, who speaks fluently and eloquently. A man thus gifted can do much good, but much more evil, according to the principles espoused and the Iine of conduct marked out for himself. CoL Ingersoll, it seems, upon the entrance into active life, chose the teft instead of the right pathway, and becomes a reviler of, instend of n believer in, a religiun which has been muking the world wiser, better, and’ happier for almost nincteen centuries. Without questioning Col. Ingersoli's sincerity or impugning his motives, I am persuaded that if balf the time and lubor ex- pended In fortifying bhnself with arguments against religion bad been devoted to an intelli- geatand impartial consideration of the evidences establisying its truths the country would buve had instead of a revilera gifted follower of Him whose ‘mission, labors, and character, viewed merely from a worldly standpoint, inspire admi-, ration, affection, and gratitude. [sit not. there- fore, painful to see men tichly endowed pervert- ing their gifts. misusing their talents in sumptuous reviltigs and ribald jestings against a Creator and u Savior from whom every earthly bounty and blessing emanate? Nv act of tho Savior’s life and no word He ever uttered has been or can be construed or tortured into hostility to the welfare and bappi- ness of every member ct the human fami Human laws are founded upon the Divine law. All that concerns our happiness here and hopes of happiness bereufter is derived from the Scriptures. On the other hand, what hus intidel- ity done for us? Wh protits by ‘its teachings? After depriving its followers of their belief in a future, how docs {t compensate. them? What does it offer In exehanwe for n life of immortali- ty? If, for example, Col. Ingersoll should be simmoaned to the bedside of a dying friend or relative, what words of comfort or of bepe could be offer? Of what service could he be to that stricken friend? Would he aggravate the sufferings of one whove last bours needed soothing by telliug him there was nothing but the cold. dark -gruve uwaiting him? This cruel theory is repelled not only by revelation but the laws of Nature. Nature is lustinct with evidences und confirmations of the truths of rovelation. The vyegetuble and doral world only die to live again. The products of the earth five and die annually. The buricd acorn reproduces the living oak. And yet tnfi- delity insists that man, the image of the Creator, wonderfully endowed and gifted, under whose auspices the world hus been enlightened, elevat- ed, and adorned, is after a brief existence to bo as though he had uever been. Contrast the la- bors of Voltaire and Paine with those of John Wesley. Can it be said with truth that the for- mer two made any one better or happier? Bun- dreds of thousands of the followers of John Wesley have lived und died aud other bundreds of thousands survive, rejoicing in their conver- sion from u sinful to a Christian life. The mem- ory of Wesicy is everywhere cherished by the good and the pure, while Voltaire and Paine ure only remembered for the evil rather than the good they did. 3 If it ba urged that “he promises of the Savior have not ull been realized, that sin st! ubounds, and tHut the world is as bad us ever, it may be enswered that relugion is working out its mis- sion; that its beaigu intiuences are constantly extending. and that light is radiating into tho durkest recesses of heathenism and idolatry. It requires noargument to demonstrate the fact that our raoe {s improved by civilization, or that civilization owes its origin ana progress te re- ligion. To religious intluences we are indebted for all the refurms which benefit society. Our -schouls were instituted in obedience to a Divine command. In these schools children are taught “without money and without price” all that concerns.their present welfare and their future bappiness. These intellectual nurseries have euriched and fertilized, and continue to enrich and fertilize, every city, village, hamict, and household throughout the Christinn world. If religion bad done nothing more than to bless our race with the consecrating intluences of Sunday-schools, sooffers should be shamed into silence. WHAT RELIGION HAS DONE FOR NEW YORK. Our city furnishes many examples of the beneficence of religion. “Fart aon ago a2 locality too well known ‘as the “Five Points,” with a population of severn! thousands, wus the home of tho vilest of the vile, and the resort of others equally debused. Meu, women, and ehildrea of uli nationalities und colors herded together, differing only in the degrees of crime and the depths of profligacy habitually prac- ticed. Thoir duys were pussed in either idie- ness ordepredations. Their nights were spent in dance-house debaucheries. All healthy or wholesome influences were excluded. Children grew up to become either street-beggars or ia- mates of the almshouse, and their pxrents filled penitentiuries and prisons. These orgics con- Hnued yenr ufter year, deliant and aggressive, until that Pandemonium was invaded by Chris- tian men and women whose putience would not tire, whose courage was Indomitable, and whose devotion has beeu rewarded by a moral end re- Hgious reformation so complete that no part of our city is now more quiet and orderly taan the once drended “bive Points.” ‘Thou- sands of children thon growing up either vugabonds or culprits are now attoading schools, in whieh they ure stimulated by precept and ex- ample-to Itve industrious and virtuous lives, Instead, therefore, of sending forth idle, ig- uorant, and vicious children to prey upon society, the destitute and orphan children of the “ Five Puints,” prepared for usefuluess by moral and religious tralaing, find buppy homes in ourrapidly developing Western Stutes und Territories. Aguin, eight years ago Water street and its surroundings eastward from Peck silp bad a notoriety amost a3 unenvinble ag that of the “Five Pe * Thut cegion was rife with drunkenness, burglaries, vugilism, and their kindred vives. Jerry McAuley was conspicuous in all that was wicked and demoralizing. He had theZ reputation of Leing a terror to the prcotte ureputation which, by his own con- ession, was deserved. But this disturber bf the public peace was converted, and then he re- solved ty devote the remainder of his ufe to the service of bis Muster, and, with a faithful, affectionate wife asa belper, he has abundant- ly atoned fur all his offenses. For a long time the hisses and howliys of his foriner assuolutes seriqusty disturbed his meetings, but ceuraye, perseverance, and patience finully pre- valled, und his work now progresses without. in- terrupzion. The general character of the nelzh- borhuod has been Improved; its social und mor- ul tone and atmosphere have been puritied. Suilors’ bourdlug-houses bave been reformed. Sailors now carry their Bibles with them to seu, Moudy and Sankey hymns are sung in forc- castles. Hundreds of baif-nuked and bungry wives and childreu, by the conversion of drunk- en busbands and fathers, now reJuice in com- fortable and happy bomes. The Mission Church is crowded every week day and evening. and three tines on Sunday, with intelligent Christian men and women, who. rescued from gurret and gutters, ure now reputuble citizens, enjoying the fruits of thelr industry. and relating with grateful honrts the miseries of their past, tne joys of their present, and the bopes of their future. By all who “went to scoff, but re- tmuined to pray," Jerry McAuley and his exem- lary wife ure regurded with Albegtion, and will remembered with gratitude. Let us contrast the labors of two prominent. contemporary teachers.—one, “Mr. Moody, a Christian, and the other, Mr. Ingersoll, un 'in- fidel tniss:onary. Mr. Moody is self-made and self-educated.” Mr. Ingersoll is a gentlemun of educition, culture; and refinement, That Mr. Moody's labors have been in the highest degree benetic to wll classes will not be denied. The highest and the hu:nblest listened with charmed interest, und alileft the Tabernacle better und happier. The general effect both of his preach- ing, supplemented: by the never-to- be-rorgotten voice of Mr. Saukey, cleared, braced, and puritied the religious, moral, and socinl atmosphere of the city. The labors of Mond: id Sankey were pras cal. ‘They not only asked * What shall the wurvest be,” but they obtained fn their inquiry- rooms gratifying reponses to their questions. Hundreds of drunkards were reclaimed, gam- biers und prize-tizhters were converted. Desti- tute wives and children ‘und desulute homes huve been made happy and bright by the rescue and return of reformed husbands and fathers. Long and gratefully will the ndvent of Moody and: Sankey be remembered. The city Js still fragrant with Tabernacle memo- ries. Mr. Moody is turning the results of bis lubors to good account. The Moody and Sankty hymns. well-known ‘to the Christino world, are now sung by native converts in the interior of Africa. ie sale of these hymn books produces a bandsome tund, which Mr. Moody devotes to missionary purposes. At bis home. in Northtiel Mass., he bas ¢rected a suitable buttaing for d mission school and home for Indiun girls. some fifty of whom from the far West have already been received. 3fr. Moody, therefore, has taken up and will carry. on the a work .so auspi- clously commenced by the late Father de Smet. ‘And now I fnvite Mr. Ingersoll, or any of his followers, to inform the public how and to what extent they have profited by his missionary Inbors in this city, what salutary reforms.he has Inaugurated or even suggested, or in what manner and to what extent be hes contributed w the general welfare or happiness of bis tellow- oltizens. : = THURLOW, WEED. "FE -dred; a ‘ LAW AND LEGERDEMAIN, : A Case of Deception Where the End Justified the Means, ° How a Lawyer Saved His Client, ——_ [Leaves from the Note-Book of att Old Pennsytvania Lawyer.) “ And ead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” ® “ tye be not judged. For what ee oe Judge, ye hee wage The incident I am about to relate occurred twenty years ago in Pennsylvania; and while I am well aware that my course in, the trial of the cause may not meet with the entire approval of the members of the legal profession, and perhaps not of all my readers, yet I ask that you suspend your opinion until you hear the whole-ase, or, as a Judge would say toa jury:. “ Gentlemen, you will come to no conclusion, and try not to form any opinion, until you hear ‘all the evidence, the argument of . the counsel, and the charge of the Court.” Iask this of my readers; wait, gentlemen of the jury, until the evidence is all before you, until you have heard the counsel, and the charge of that inward monitor, your con- science, which is the court before whose tri- | . bunal every act you do should be able to justify itself, for the time will come when every page of the récord kept by conscience in your hearts shall be a witness, elther ac- cusing or excusing you, before that dread Court into whose sacred precincts no error can come, and from whose investigation’ no sec§ets are hidden; before that Judge whose all-seeing eye sees every act of man, and whose all-hearing ear hears the most silent whisperings of the human heart, even before the tongue hath given them utterance, The little village of S—, in our county, had acquired a population of several hun- it had a store, & post-office, two churches, u school-house, and several shops. The people of. that quiet little hamlet were prosperous and happy; yes, happy in their ignorance of what was necessary for their own wolfare and the public good. For so strangely benighted were they that, as yet, they had no licensed hotel to spread: its legalized blessings around, as the deadly pestilential dew falls om some of’ the coun- tries of the burning zone. For years this little village had nestled among the fertile fields of Western Pennsylvania, and, so far as the records of our criminal court showed, its existence was unknown at the county seat, for no criminal case had ever been “sent up” from its law-abid- ing precincts. But the march of improve- ment and Christian enlightenment is ever onward and upward. ‘There came an enter- prising man, and, unfortunately for the little village, he was a man of “ good moral ehar- acter,” and therefore a fit recipient for the favors of the court. He proposed to pur- chase a corner-lot in the place, and erect thereon a fine hotel. The good, staid, and sober old burgers of the town were In ecsta- cies over the contemplated great improve- ment; it was just what was wanted to make. S— an embryoric New York, and the price Of village lots went up with a bound. Time passed on; the botel was completed, furnished, and» was’ to ;opened on the 22d day of February, An appitea- tion had been wade for a_ license, and, if it was granted, the proprictor pro- posed to give a grand free ball on the night of the opening, at which tine the well- stocked bar was to be so free that those who attended could sin without money and with- out price, he well knowing that the sded thus sown would in time yield him an abundant harvest, though. the gatherin; behind the barren stubble-tiel ness and crime. . Of course the license was granted. The proprietor was, as I have said, unfortunately amanof good moral character and tem- perate habits. Deacon A, of the Baptist Chureh; Class-Leader B, of the Methodist Chureh;" Elder ©, of the U. P. Church; Doctor D, Squire 4, and a number of lesser might leave of drunken- lights of the society of* the village signed good chur- was town rest of to the certificate of the proprietor’s acter, believing that all required + to make the | little happy and prosperous the their days was a legalized place commence to manufacture drunkard as it was the only manufacturing est: ment of any kind in that section of the coun- try, all were overjoyed when the news came that the glorious prerogative to sell whisky. Was granted to the proprietorof the “ United J States Hotel” at S— The, bearing in its womb the future joys and sorrows of inen, moved on; the 22d'day of February came at last, and all the lads and lassies for miles around were there. The bar was open and free—and There was 2 sound of revelry by night. There was a row in the bar-room; free whisky had ended ina free tight, as usual, He D., the son of a widow, who or two from the place, bad, a fit of - drunken frenzy, with his naked hands struck a stand of glasses that stood on the counter and dashed them on the floor. The broken glass had cut his hand severely. One of his companions, William W., had taken from Henry’s pocket a white silk pocket-handkerchief, and, wrappme it around his bleeding hand, tied the corner- ends together. The young man left the ho- fel with several others, and was at home in the morning, but he was so drunk that he forgot the important fact that he had takena young lady to the dance, until he was re- minded of it in 2asomewhat emphatic manner by the young lady herself, the next day, she being at that time an inmate of his mother’s house, i William W., who tied the handkerchief around Heury’s bleeding hand, was the owner of asmall store that stood near the canal, His stock of goods consisted of coarse clothing, usually worn by boatmen, and a general assortinent of boat-supplies. He was a man of low associatiuns and bad repute. Uls store was the nightly resort of buatmen and roughs, who live along the water thor- oughfares of the country, and those ladies who do the “cuisine” on board the floating palaces of our canals. That night William Was at the dance gntil nearly daylight. In the morning he discovered tLat his store had been entered by burglars through a window in the rear, the thieves breaking a light of lass fur that purpose. A quantity of goods had been stolen, mostly rough clothing, boots, and sho: but, a3 he ulleged, of the value of over 5200, No trace of the burglars was found. Time passed on until the month of June, when some men, who were removing the hay from anold hay-barn that stood in a meadow near by, found concealed under it the stolen goods, tied up in a large. coarse woolen shawl. On opening the bundle, among the goods Was found the handkerchief of Hen D., that had been wrapped around the bleed- ing hand. It was spotted with blood and still remained in a coil, just as the hand had been withdrawn, leaving the very impress of the fingers inside the coil. Every one was. astonished at the develop- ment. Henry D. had always sustaineda good character. He was never known to drink be- fore or since the night of the ball; was well otf, his father having left iim by will a lar, well-stocked farm. He was an only son, idol of an aged mother, and withal he was about to be married to the young girl he had taken to the ball. He was uriversally popu- lar among the people, and the discovery fell upon the quiet litue village like a fash of lightning from a clear sky. VWglliam W., the owner of the store, made a complaint, charging Henry with the crime of larceny and burglary. Henry was arrested and com- mitted to 1 to awnit a hearing,.as he either would nof or could not give.any satisfactory explanation about the handkerchief. ‘Thus the case stood, when ; one evening, 23 Iwas seated in my office communing with inyself and my meerschawm, 1 heard a light knock at my door; I opened it, and a ve pretty young girl entered and inqurred if was the lawyer who cleared persons accused of crime.” I told her I was a lawyer, and that I sometimes’ defended: persons on criminal charzes,—that is, when I was perfectly satis- fied that they were innocent (?) “ But he is innocent,” she replied with emotion; “ he never committed u crime in his life; he ig an honest, zood young man, and would not doa Boor child! I thought—wh oor chi thought,—what a pity it is that your idol is made of clay. _ af I gave her a seat, and inquired who the persou was who was so fortunate as to enlist |. the services of so effective an advocate in his naif, “Was he a brother ?” os “No,” she answered; “he is no relation to me”; und her beautiful lips quivered, while a blush, red as the hue of the morning, stole over her cheek, “Why do you feel so much interest in ane that ce ou 2 Linghired,. with a- mali sf ion, when I remembered that Lora eallctac: old and had lost all those charms for ert Sra 8 suilnent in my soues 2). 8 ho is he 2” aguin inquired, hesitated to answer my former neni he E ised of crime, and who {s no relation to ti he. m eens Teme or : ser : store,” she replied mab yobbing a * but he {s nat guilty, know-he fs not. I cannot be possible he would do such a thin; a -Is he the son of David D., my old friend fen schoolmate, who died a few years ago ?? “Yes,” she said, and then, ina voice broken' with sobs of anguish, she related the occurrence I have narrated. She further in- formed me that bis mother was living, but In very feeble health, and that she did notknoy of the ‘accusation against her son; that thé neighbors had taken care not to let the terri- ble secret enter her sick-room, zor fear that it, would kill her; and * Oh! said the young girl, “ Henry was always such a good young man; he never drank before the nignt of the ball in his life. O, can you clear him >? she asked, looking at me with such a pleading expression of countenance that, al- though'l am not very susceptible to female influence and charms (?), it went directly to my heart, and then, by a circuitous route, reached ny brain-some minutes after; and, when she again asked me if I could’ clear him, I was ready to.say Yes, most emphatic- cally, although I could not see how it was to one, Iwent with her to the jail, and had an in- terview with Henry, a ant and had young man, whose open, ingenuous countenance gave. thelie tothe charge against him, no alee what the circumstances might indi- cate, He told. me had never taken half- aclozen — drin of ii in his life; had no® taste or desire for it, and only drank on the night of the ball because it was free; every one was drinking, and he was urged to drink by the proprietor and a number of his friends. He said that after he became intoxicated he did not re- member what happened, but had an indis- tinct recollection of cutting his hand, and sald It seemed like a dream to him that he and another youngauan, whu was also drunk, went to Williaim’s store and took the guods. The young mun he thought. was with him denied it and Henry would not tell his name, for, said he, “neither of us could have intended to steal the goods. I would not trke William’s whole stock as a gift. I could not use them: they are coarse and cheap, and only intended for canal-boat trade. .But Iam afraid I took them, for the more I think of it the more I- seem to ‘recollect [t; yet I never thought of it until the goods were found, and my handkerchtef among them; then it seemed to come to me like the recol- lections of a half-forgotten dream.” The young air! and myse¥f left the cell; that is, Tleft tirst, and just now, while I think of..it, 1 believe she remained behind a mo= ment, Jthought I heard a faint sound like an echo from my youngdays. But T am ready to testify in any court where the ques- tion “may become important that { don’t re- inember what it sounded like. Perhaps it was the click of the door-latch, although I am afraid there is_no latch on the door of a prison-cell; but no matter, only it made me more determined to procure his acquittal if it was “on the cards.” While returning to my office, an idea struck me with considerable force. The phenomenon was so unusual that I remem- ver it distinctly. I asked the girl if Henry had any more haridkerebiefs like the one found among the ods; she said he had anumber,—she had hemmed them for him. She also told me that on the night of the ball she had taken Henry’s handkerchief and tied a very small knot In one corner,—a knot commonly called by young people a “love-knot.” It was so small that it would hardly be noticed. and shevdesired me to look at the handkerchief found at tho first opportunity, and see if there was such a knot on it, for, it it was not there, then it was not Henry's. The hearing before the magistrate was to take pluce the next day but one, and I sent her home with instructions to bring me in one of the handker- chiefs the next day, but to be sure and let no one know it, She started home, and I went to iny office to think. The hearing was before A. C., a magistrate in-our city, There wasa long, high desk at one end of his office, behind which he sat during the examination. Istood behind the desk at one end. The prisoner, witnesses, and audience were in front. I had procured a newspaper, which I opened and spread upon the top of the desk, and stood reading it while the preliminaries were being ar- ranged. The handkerchief was produced, and, while I was cross-examining the princi- pal witness, I carelesly spread it over the newspaper 1 had been reading, and with a in, unseen by any one, l punctured the handkerchief and paper around the margin of the blood spcts. This I did while I was cross-examining the witnesses and “quarrel- ing” with the District-Attorney. hen the examination had concluded and the defendant had been held under bail for his appearance at court, I requested the magistrate to inclose the handkerchief in-an envelope, and keep {t until court. Idid this because I feared some one would discover the love-knot, which I found as Ellen had related. I then returned to my office with the punctured newspaper, making a com- plete map of the blood-spots. Next, spread- ing out the handkerchief Ellen gave me, and the punctured newspaper over it, with a tutt ofcotton I dusted red lead over the pin- holes, and on removing the paper there was a_map of the spots on the handkerchief. We had chicken for dinner that day, anda vial of its blood found its way into my office. With the blood and small brush I saturated the spots marked on the handkerchief, let it dry, laid it away, and awaited the time of trial. It came at last, in the month of August The jury was impaneled, and the District- Attorney opened the case. By the side of the prisoner sat his mother and aftianced bride. Ellen was really a very beautiful girl, and, while the Commonwealth’s counsel was stating the facts he intended to prove, she Tooked at the jury with such a startled, plead- ing expression in her tear-dimmed eyes, that I thought to yy lf, Weil, gentlemen, if you can disregard that “item of evidence,” you are made ot altiterent. material from any jury Lever selected. The witnesses were called ‘and the facts proven in substance as I have narrated, up to the identification of the handkerchiet. When the Jistrict-Attorney called the name: of William W. 1. felt the blood rush to my heart in a way that al- most silenced its beating. The crisis was at hand. I knew if I failed .the young girl would be heart-hroken, and I believed it would kill the old mother, whose heart was bound up in her idolized son. Not only this, buothe defendant—as honest and worthy a young man as there was in the country.— would be branded. as a felon, sent to prison, and ruined for life; and all this because the infamous license law had spread its poison- ous influence over the little Village of S—, and tempted its young men to vice and crime, The witness, William W., came upon stand with a supercilious uair, fut OL the importance of — his position as principal witness against 2 de- fendant in a ease that excited so much Inter- est in the county. I knew he was a deep- dyed villain at heart, whose loftiest thoughts aid best acts were so mean and low that the lowest and worse thonghts and acts of the prisoner at the bar had never yet descended their level. ae my practice I have observed that there are two kinds of witnesses who appear in our courts, One class will tell a lie so adroitly that it will look just like the truth; the other will tell the truth so bunglingly that it will look just like a lie. For- tunately for my client, William be- longed to the latter class, and, when he tried to mix truth and falsehood to- ther, he made a iost lamentable failure. the fact was, that he had tried to become a suitor of Ellen, and, moved by fealons hatred toward his successful mval, 1 believed he would hesitate at Houllak. that would procure that rival’s conviction. s: Te witness narrated the occurtence at the ball, the broken glasses and bleeding hand; and? when the handkerchief was handed him, heidentified it without hesiintion as theone he hed taken from Henry's pocket and wrapped around his hand, When the Commonwealth examination in chief, the wit- ae a ‘i andedl over to me for cross-exaini- nr Isat behind thecounsel-table. Close ‘one side, sat the mother; on the other side Henry and Elfen, towhom, inv im- pression is, I had given some instructions be- fore the trial commenced. | It is so long ago, however, that I may have forgotten it. "The handkerchief lay upon the table. The one Ellen brought me was ina small roll in my lap under the table. I took the right handkerchief in my hand and proceeded with the cross-examination. My first object was to get William angry. In this I succeeded most completely; for, when I proceeded to ask him about his store, and if it were not a place of nightly resort for canai-thieves, gamblers, and canalboat cooks. to say that he was angry conveys & Very faint idea of his mental cont ¥ ‘While our amiable interview had been pro- ceeding, I lieu dropped the right handkerchief In my lap, and somehow, by mistake perhaps, picked up the wrong one and laid it upon the table in sight of the ity. ‘The court, audience, and jury had ecome so interested in the “unpleas- antness’” between the ‘witness and counsel that the mistake was not discovered. Ienry took the right handker- chifand put itin his pocket. By this time the amlable William would have testified to anything,—that the moon wasa cheese, for instance, or any other equally ergdible state- ment,—had he deemed it necessary to secure a verdict of guilty. en took the handkerchief from the table. passed around in front, near to him, and asked the following questions as rapidly as the answers would permit: Question—* Did 1 understand you to say that.you were positive that this handkerchief is the one pou tied around the defendant’s hand the night of the ball”? Auswer—“T don’t know what you under- stood, but I said so.” Q. (stitt holding the handkerchief in my hand)—“ What is there about this handker- chief that males you so positive?” A.— The spots of blood; and it is of white silk with raised flowers on it, I know it is the same one.”. . Q—Now, sir, did you not say to Mr. C. that, if necessary, you would swear to a lie to send Henry to the Penitentiary?” A. (witness in a greater rage, if possible, than before)—"* No, sir, I did not say so. It’s aie; I never said it.” Q. (handing the wifness the handkerchief) —"Now take this handkerchief and show the jury any marks there are on it that make you so Willing to swear to it, if you can, and tell the truth.” Witness took the. handkerchief, opened it, and pointed out the blood-spots to the jury. and sai L know it is the handkerchief; I eannat be mistaken.” Q.—*¥You can’t! Don’t you sometimes make mistakes, or are you always right and never wrong ?” A.— ‘You need not try to make me say anything else, [ know this is the handker- chi Q.—“Now, sir, is not this the handker- chief? [lenry [turning to the defendant], give me your handkerchief.” He took the right handkerchief out of his ocket and handed it to me I took it, and, holding it out to witne: ked, with all the severity of tone I coul Now, sir, is not this the handkerchief?” : To that the witness was astonished, Is mild. ‘That he was confounded, was certain. He took the handkerchief, looked at it, and, completely broken down, said he could net tell, but he believed the one he held in his hand was the one. This was the one Ellen had brought me. cy ‘This ended the cross-examination, and ‘the Commonwealth rested.” Lopened the ease for the defense. I don’t know what I said, but I tried todo the sub- Jegt justice. u J then culled Ellen to the stand. She burst into a flood of tears, and for sume time was unable to speak. Her relation to the defend- ant was well understood, and many eyes in the court-room were invistavith manly tears. The Judge—a most exceHent old inan, and afine lawyer—spoke kindly to her, and as soon ag she was able to proceed I commenced the examination. She narrated the oceur- rence at the ball, and, when [ handed her the handkerchief Henry had taken from his pocket before the jury and given to me, she identified it in most positive manner; showed the love-knot on the corner that, she had tied in the ball-room before the fight, and also stated that she knew it was his, for she hemmed it, Inow trembled for fear the District-Attor- ney would ask her if she did net hem both handkerchiefs, and feared her answer would lead toa discovery I most certainly did not desire. I therefore iminediately asked a question possibly uot justified by the rules of evidence. The District-Atturney ob- jected, of course; 1 insisted; and soon, amid the smoke and noise of the legal battle, her answer was forgotten, as I hoped it would be. The District-Attorney commenced the cross-examination in a very harsh tone and manner, by asking the witness the nature of her relation to. the prisoner. This was to show the jury the interest she felt, and to af- fect her credibility. Atthis she commenced to cry, and her tears and sobs were more elo- quent than words, ‘The jury looked at the “hard-hearted ” attorney with an indignant expression, and I felt that the case w: particularly if Ellen would only conti: ery alittielonger, This: she did, until the counsel for the Commonwealth, fearing he might prejudice his case, told her she might retire. What a weight was off my mind! I then called a score of witnesses to prove that the defendant had always sustained a most excellent reputation, and rested my ease. I commenced the argument for the de- fense: what I said Ldon’t recollect. [spoke of the uncertainty of circumstantial evidence, and that white silk handkerchiefs were com- mon enough inthe stores of the country; that, when Henry cut his nand with the broken glass iu the bar-room, it was a natu- ral thought, from the circumstances, that led the witness, Mr. W., to wrap the handke: chief around the wounded hand, If the bur- glar, imentering the store, broke a pune of glass, if he had accidentally cut his hand, it would be mast likely that the same thought, begotten by similar-ctreumstances, would suggest to Itim or liis companion, if he had any, to wrap it up with his handkerchief. He was as likely to be the owner of a white siik one as the defendant, The rule of law was: That, “in circumstantial cvldence, the inculpatory facts must not only be con- sistent with quilt, but absolutely incom- patible with Innocence.” -I said something about the mother and young girl, and the tender relations existing between her and the defendant; and when, in conclusion, Ispoke of hotel and liceuse to make drunkards of the rising generation, | think 1 made one man ut least, with a good moral character, wish his reputation had been so_bad that the Court haa refused his license. When I closed the case, knew by the expressions on the faces of the jury that Henry Was safe, ‘The District-Attorney made an able argu- ment; but when did either law or logic ever sueceed against a woman’s tears? Says the proverb of the Talmud: “* Men should be careful lest they cause women to weep, for God counts thelr tears.” ‘The Court charged the jury favorably; they retfred, and in a few moments returned with a verdict of Not guilty. It was re- ceived with every manifestation of approval; tn fact, the Court had to suspend business for a few moments, while Henry was receiving the congratulations of the people. ‘Yes, Henry was acquitted, and, althongh it was accomplished us much by legerdemain as by law, and may not meet with the ap- proval of every one, yet I have never re- retted my acts In the ease. Why should 1? id had done nothing but procure the ac- quittal of an honest youn; man, who was made insane by aman who had a license to do so, and while in that mental condition had committed nerime. But for the axeucies of the law he would never thus have sinned; and if ever the Jesuitical doctrine was true, that ‘Sometimes the end justifies the means,” it was true in this case. ——= “SAY, HANCOCK, SAY! For The Chicago Tribune. Say, Hancock, say! What is your backing in this later war? Why have you left the Union side to-day? Woy consort with Jef Davis and Lamar, And all the crowd who wore the Rebel Gray? ‘ ‘Suny, Hancock, suy— J Say, Hancock, say! Now take with us n retrospective view; What Js the record of your backing, pray? You do not Like “the blondy sbirt.” Too true! But by the putst we judge the present day. Say, Hancock, say! Say, Hancock, say! The War is over? Not while terror reigns, Like Turkish rule, on Southern soll to-day— The cepedmien, bound in worse than slavish chuins, Driven and scourged, to Ku-Klux Klans a prey. Suy, Hancock, say=- Say, Huncock, sit; What think you of this crowd—Jeff at the head— Ola Bourbon moss-backs, whilom Copperheads, ‘The remnant of the sort MoUlellan le . In ‘64, raised from their ghostly beds? Say, Hancock, say! Say, Hancock, say! Are you 2 State-Rizhts man? Well, ict us see: ‘The Solid South put State-Hights trst to-day; “Go with their State,” as Davis did. und Lee, With Hancock for a lender of. the Gray! ‘Say, Hancock. say— Say, Hancock, say! How would the Devil bait to win a world? Would be enmesh a man 60 tried and true, With Glory’s standard over him unfurled— One whoy while wearing Gray, professed the ez" e Say, Hancock, say! Say, Hancock, say! : We honor Hancock's nainc—he is a man: But dark behind him looms Rebel host— The oft-defeated State-Rights Secesh clan: Place them in power, und have our country lost? J Nay, Hancock, Nuy! c. B.C. Intellect in Birds—HKemarkeble if True London Nature. Roorkez, June 21.—The Central Prison at Agra, India, is the roosting-piace of great num- bers of the common blue pigeon; they fv out to the neighboring country for food every morn= , ing, and return in the evening, when they drink ata tank just outside the prison-walls. in this tank ure a larre number of freshwater turtles, which lc in wait for the pigeons, just under the Surface of the water and at the.edge.of it, Aay bird ulizhting to drink near one of these turtles bus a good chance of having its head bitten off aud eaten; and the headless bédies of pigeons: have been picked up near the water, showing the fate which has sometimes befallen the birds. ‘he pigeons, however, are aware of the danger, and bive hit on the following plan to es- cupe it: A pigeon comes in‘from.its long Hichf, and. as it nears the tank, Instead of lying down at once to the water's edge, will cross the tank at ubout twenty feet above itsmurface. sud then tly back to the side, from which it carce, apparently selecting for ulighting a snte spot whieh tt bad remarked as it tlew over the banks ut. even when suck a spot bus been select the bird will not alight ut the edze of the weer but on the bank about 4 yard trom the water, and willthen run down quickly tothe wat, take two or three hurried gulps of it, and thea. fly off to repent the sume process at another part of the tanik till its thirstissatistied. [hud often watched the birds doing this, and could not rc- count for their strange mode of drinking till told by my friend, the Superintendent of the Prison, of the turtles which lay in ambush for the pigeons. ‘The same friend hada couple of Rill Mynahs (Graculn religiosa), the most wonderful bird for mimicry which [ have come across, notexcepting the griy parrot of the West African coast. One of these birds, when bung out in the veranda during the afternoons, used to amuse Stsetf by culline the fowis together, imitating the cail of their keeper so well that they used to flock to- gether under the cage, when the bird would burst out into a very good imitation of a humun jaugh, as it It quite enjoyed the fun of taking in the fowls. Have birds the senso of amuse- ment? This one certainly seemed to derive gnitification from the way In which it hud cheaig ed the fowls. W. W. NICHOLLS a THE GROG-SELLER’S DREAM. From the Diary of an Old Temperance Lawyer. ‘The grog-seller sat by his bur-room fire; His feet were high x3 his heud: and higher; And be watched the smoke as he puffed it out ‘Chat In spiral columns ourled about, Veiling bis face in its tleecy fold As luzily up from his lips its rolled, While a doubtful scent and a twilight gloom Were slowly gathering to tlil the room. To their drunken slumbers, one by onc, Foolish and fuddled, his guests were goue, ‘To awake in the morn witb a drunxard’s. With a trembling hand and a reeling braia. Drowsily on the ulr broke the watchman’s cry, “ Past 1 o'clock, and a cloudy sky1!* But our host sat'silent yet, and shook His bend, and winked*with a knowing look. * Hol bo!” sald he, in a chuckling tone, “know the way the thing is done! ‘Twice tive ure ten, and another V, ‘Two ones, two twos, and a ragyed three Make twenty-four for my well-tilled fob: On the whole it's a good night's job. ‘The fools have drunk my whisky and wine; Much good may it do them—thelr cash Is ‘mine. There is Brown—whut uv jolly dog is bet And he sprees it the way! Llike to see: Let bim go awhile at this reckless rate, And his farm [3 mine as sure as fate— Dropped in my poexet from time to timey Dollur by dollar, and dime by dime. I've u mortmige now on Tompkins’ lot: What a fool he was to become a sot! But {t’s luck to me, and in u month or so I shall foreclose, and the scamp must go. Zound3! won't bis wife have u“tukingon’” + Waen she tinds their bcuse and lot are gone! How she will blubber. and sob, and sigh! But business is business, and what care [2 And Tom Bain murdered his wife, they say. Woy, he was drunk as u fool here yesterday, And T warned.the brute, as I went to till His jug; but. the fool would have his will, And folks blame me: why, curse their eyes! If I had not sold him, he'd got it at Bly’a. ‘ T'vo a right to engage in a lawful trade, i And tnke my chance where cash fs ta be madeg And if men get drunk, and go home to turn ‘Thelr wives outdoors, it’s thelr own concera. But I hate to have the women coming here With their silly compluints and maudlin tears; With their swollen eyes and haggard looks, And their speeches learned from temperance o0ks: With their lean, pale children—whimpering fools! s ‘Why don’t they send them to the public schools? Lhave a license to sell brandy and wine; Let people look to thelr interest—I will to mine, If “tis wrong to sell whiaky, brandy, and gin, Why don’t our luwmakers declare it a sin? itt pay a license, I bave a right to sell, . ‘Though {t depopulates Earth and peoples Hell, If rum-selling is lnwful, and fools will drink, ‘The joke is on them, not on me, | think; : And T will turn no customer away Who is willing to buy and able to Pay. pe Le. : And he softly chuckled “Ho! ho!! he! het!” And be rubbed his hands in quiet gice. “Hol hol! hel hr it Was an echo sound; Amuzed, the rum-scller looked round; ‘This aide, and that, through the smoke peered ey is But natight but tho chairs could the grog-seller see, “Ho! hol! he! he!!""—Itwas a guttural note, And seemed a ifgt came from an {ron throat; ‘And his knees ‘gan to quake and his hair to rise, * And he opened his mouth and strained his eyes; And Io! thore, in a corner dark and dim, a! Stood an uncouth form, with a visage grim; From the tangled curls of his shaggy hair ‘There spouted u hard of rough harns a pairs While redly bis scowling brows below, Like sulphurous Hames, did bis small eyes glows Dark was bis forebead, and rugged searred, x As if by a stroke of lightning murred; and bis lips were cucied fn a sinister smile, And smoke belched forth from his mouth the while; His feet were shaped like bullocks’ hoofs, and the boots he wore were culoric proof; Small clothes he wore, of an umber hue, From the rear of which a tail peeped through In bis band he hold—it hund it was, ‘Whose fingers resembled 2 vulture’s claws— A three-tined fork, and its tines so dull Were Panis through the sockets of a grinning skull: Slowly, like a sceptre, he waved it to and fro, While ‘he softly chuckled, * He! hel! nol hot!’ And all the while wore bis cyes, that burned —- Like Bulprous: flames, on the grog-seller turned, x Whose eyes on the monster grim were glued, - But whose tonzue was stiff a3 a billet of wood. Despair and horror were in his look. : And hissbuddéring bones in the!r marrow shook, But the flend laughed on, “ He! be!! bo! hol!” And evot the skull waved to and fro; Then, nodding the horns of bis grizzly head, “Why? what is the matter, my friend?” he sald; “You surely huve nothing from me to dread; We have known euch other so long and well, And [love you more than I can tell; Yet it seems.to me but x welcome cold You give to a friend so true and old, Who bus been for years in your employ, Running about like un errand-boy. Perbaps you don’t know me, or you'd be more elvil; In the place where I live I'm called the D—-L” Like a galvanized corpse, pale and wan, Up started inustanter the thunder-struck man. * ! You don't—". * Yes, I do,” sald old Nick, “ And, if you wish for tho Rroor Just twig my horns, tay tail, and my hoof; And, having come from a warmer clime below To chat with a friend for an hour or 60, And tho night being somewhat cold, I think You might ask an old fellow to take a drink, Come, now. let it be of the clear, pure stuif, . Sweetened with brimstone—a quart is enough" And put the mess in an iron cup, ‘Aud beat by the tire until it bubbles up.” ‘As the Devil bade, the zroy-seller did, Filling a Hagen of sir to the lid, And, when it boiled und bubbled o'er, ‘Tho fiery drnught to his guest he bore. Old Nick at a swallow the liquor did quaff, And thanked his host with a guttural laugh. But faint and few were the smiles, [ ween, That on the rum-scller’s face were seen. For 1 mortal fear was on him then, And he thought the ways of other men He should tread no more—that his hour had come, And his master, too, to take him home; ‘And thought went back to the darkened past, And sbricks were beard on the wintry blas! And gilding befcre him, pale and dim, Were uncouth forms and spectres grim: and there, amid that ghastly train, a Ie saw the murdered wife of Thomas Baln, — And he shivered and shook in every limb, As if an ague-fit bad bold of him. But the tlend tanghed on, **Ho! hol! be! hell’ And he switched his tail In quiet glee. “Do you think I have come for you? Never fears You can’t be spared for a tong while here. ‘There are heurts to breuk, und souls tu win From the ways of peace to the paths of sin; There are homes to be rendered desolute; There {3 trusting love to be trned to hute; There are hauas that murder must crimson red; There Gee hopes to be crushed—blights to be shed O'er the young, and the pure, and the fair, ‘Till their hearts are broken by the tiend Despair: And the hand that should shield the wife from fl, In.its drunken wrath must be raised to kill. this [a the work you have done so well, Cursing the Eurth and peopling Hell; ° Quenching the light on the inner shrine Of the heart, until you inake it mine. Want und sorrow, diseuse and shame. And crimes that even | shudder to name, Dance and how! in thelr hellish gice Around the spirits you bave marked for me, O the selling of rum 13 a good device To make uw Fett of a Paradise. Where'er shull roll that fiery flood. Ibis swollen with tears, ‘tis stained with blood, And the fips that erewhlle were beard™in prayer, ‘With muttered curses stir the air. Hoid on your course—you are filling up With the wine of the wrath of God your cup; And the flends exult fn their homes below As you Seepen. the paces of human wo. Long shail it be, if | bave my way, Ere the night of deuth shall darkon your day: if For, to pumper your lust for the glitrering Pon rival inmiachiet the Devil hieaseits = Peo. And, in the courts I bold in my place below, > Your plea that you are licensed will be ‘No go.’" ‘|*No more said the fiend, but clear and high Rang on the air the watchman’s cry: * Pust two o'clock, and a cloudy sky.” ‘ The grog-seller awoke with a half-formed sereum— i He awoke, and behold! it was all a dream. His grizzly guest with his horns had flown— His Jame ‘was out, his fire was gone; * And and silent nis bed he sought, + And long of wondrous vision thous®& >»