The Fremont Weekly Journal, 1867-05-31

would be pleased or angered at my success, and moot of all, whether Annie woald be what I fancied her. I . knew it would be terrible to find her a common place, ignorant young woman, yet it might be so. Beautiful she must be, yet the fairy loveliness might have vanished with youth, and my rose bud have changed into a dahlia. My heart sank as the stage drove into Rushton. At the hotel I alighted and walked np the street. It was altered and improved, but I found tfie house, with its side garden and shop windows, with the gilded boot swing swinging - ing swinging from the door. That had not altered much. Even the tall hollyhocks seemed the very same that were in bloom when I looked back and saw Annie amongst them, waving her tiny band. I lifted the latch and entered. : A little hunch-backed shoemaker sat upon a bench near the window hard at work. He look looked - ed looked np as I asked. for Mr. Hope. "You've been away a spell, I guess," he said. "I bought Mr. Hope out five years ago. He had some property left him, and went away to live on it, in New York I think. I wish I could tell you where, but I don't know." I felt a pang at my heart. "His family were all well at that time?" asked. "His wife and little gal was," said the shoemaker. "His brother kept the bake shop, p'raps you know. He's dead. Won't you set down and rest!" . 4. .thanked him, but declined, but l loosed about the old place sadly aa I stood at the door! The counter where , Annie had had ber first lesson in walking ; the steps leading to the back room, down which I had seen her clamber so many times. Had she been there, it would not have been the sweet cnua 1 should have met, but a full grown woman but I could not drive the fancy away that I might have dandled her upon my knee, or carried her in my arms as I did then, silly as it was. Nobody in Rushton knew where John Hope had gone Nobody remembered me. 1 went home again, teeitng mat ail ues lietwaen mvaelf and mv old life were indeed broken, ana iitue a.nnie couia oe noising to me herealter put a memory. . Time passed on. 1 grew rich : I was successful, but I lived a lonely life. 1 felt as though I always should. Home and home joys were not tor me. l saw beautiful women, but , none whom 1 could love. Strange as it was, those baby eyes, with their violet depths, haunted me still, and shone from the fair face of the ideal woman who was to be my wife. Ill ever married it could only be another Annie Hope, grown to womanhood. . .. And so, having no ties to bind me, and lo'oging as a lonely man must, for some change and excitement, I was ' among the brat to answer my country s call tor aid, and to enlist under the stars and stripes in her defence. I might have had a commission, but I preferred enlisting as a private sol dier, aud marched away in the ranks, un noticed and . unknown, but under my blue jacket 1, wore that tress of yellow hair, as I naa worn it ail muse years since it was sev severed - ered severed from the head of the child love I never hoped to meet again. . . . . .. . It was my fortune, aod a happy fortune I esteemed it, to be with those who met the foe the soonest. Many a warm day's work ; many a cold nights' watch had I ; many a hardship, ; many a narrow escape with life and limtvbut for a year I seemed to bear a charmed ..existence, and stood unharmed when comrades fell on either side of me. My day came at lasL I remember the order to fire ; I. remember firing. Then a sharp pang somewhere, and no more. - When I came back to life I Jsy upon i hospital bed, and my right are was gone. My fighting days were at an end ; and weak and worn with eutfe-ing, I forgot my man manhood - hood manhood far enoigh to weep. .. The hot tears stole from my closed lids over my cheek, and then I felt them softly wiped away, and a hand rested on try brow, and a voice said : "It isf for your country, soldier, think of rtuat'ri,..." r. . , T: ... . I lifted my eyes and .saw beside me a nurse, she was dressed in gray and naa no ornaments about her. - she . was ready to work, and that she had. been working her toil-worn brow told plainly. Yet she was young and beautiful,, and looked into my fees With the violet eyes I had only seen in dreams since I last kissed Annie Hope. '""Dont think me a coward, 1 said; "it was the first shock it is over now. Thank you." "For she had put some cooling drink to: my lips and bathed my fevered brow. It seemed as. though an angel ministered unto me. I slept soon and awoke to see her beside me to be fed by her as a child might be; to see her bending beside other couches, to watch for the first time the motions of a woman I could love.' ' It was a bitter thing to thihk'that I had not met her before I was a maimed aud helpless creature. She pitied me ; she was tender of me ; but when men love' women they do not care to be pitied by them. , , . One evening, as T grew belter, I lay watching her. She had been very busy, and her cheeks were flushed instead of pale. AU ber. yeilow hair was rolled into a purple net. Su'ely such bair was never seen but once before. I called her. ,, She came at once. , ,"Do you want anything?' she said. - , fYes" jI answered breathlessly, "your aauie.'!i She smiled. "It is an easy one to remem remember," - ber," remember," she said. "Annie Hope." Great heaven!" I cried, and fell back up upon - on upon mypillow. "Are you ill?" she asked. "No, said I, "no. Stay with me a mo moment.' - ment.' moment.' Don't you remember the old gar garret - ret garret the boy who loved you so, packing his trunk don't vou know who cut this from jreur head, and said that h would keep it always? and my one band stole into my bosom and drew forth the yellow braid. I laid it on the pillow, and without a word she took a locket from her dress, and match ed it with another tress the curl that I had given her. "I have' neVer lost it, Walter," she said. Then her eyes filled with tears, and our fingers' met. "Jf you would only give me one kiss for the sake of old tiroes," I said, and Annie Hope beat over me and kissed me as though she were still a child. That was the first kiss, not the last. My. Annie! You Temember how, one day, your soldier told jou of his life-long love. You remember how, under the blue southern sky, you gave him your little hand, and told him he had always had your heart, but even vou caa never guess the iny you gave him. Yen . married me, Annie, ere ire left the camn. and no bride surely ever looked love. Her in pearls and satin and floating lace, than you in your gray nurse's drees. ' And I stood beside you in my worn blue jacket with its empty sleeve, and you never j.i..:. .r. t .U: gueasea lllu lb won uvv m pwi owmict juj were wedding, but a rich man never rich at heart before, in spite of all his worldly goods. . You know the truth now, and I have given my sweet bird a gilded cage ; and I thank Heaven that the ills of poverty can never touch you. But we do not love each other one whit the more nor one whit the less for that my' Annie my violet-eyed treasure the Hope that I have taken to my heart to bless my life forever. Cuaa fob. Lovb. Take 13 ounces of dis like, 1 pound of resolution, bounces of the powder of experience. 1 large sprig of time, 14 drams oMhe guilt of dishonor, 1 quart of the cooling water ot consideration. .. Sot them on a gentle fire of love, sweeten with the sugar of forgetfulness, skim with the spoon ol melancholy, uTut it toyour heart. .. . .Cork it with the cork of a sound con science, and. there let it remain and you will instantly find ease, and be restored to your right seusos again. '. These things are to be found of the apo thecary, at the house of Understanding, next door to iteason, in rrnaent su-bkl, iu me wr ish of Contentment. Kissinu. Josh Billings says there is "one cold. blue, lean kiss, that always makes him shiver to see. 1 wo persons, (ov the female persuasion) who hav wit nest a great menny more younger ana more pulpy aaze, meet in ome public place, and not having saw each other for twenty-four hours, tha kiss im- megiately then tha tork about the weather ana the yonng man who preached yesterday, and then tha kiss imraegiately, and then tha blush and larf at what they say to each other, and kiss again immegiately. This kind ov kissing olways put me in mind ov tew old hints trieing to siriKe nre. A schoolmaster tells the following good one: "I was teaching in a quite country village. The second morning of my session I had time to view my surroundings' and among the scanty furniture I espied a three legged stooL 'Is this the dunce-block?' I asked a little girl of five. The dark eyes sparkled, the curls nodded assent, and the lips rippled out,. 'guess so the teacher al always - ways always sits on it. '."

"Suppose you never come backi Walter, what will Annie do?" ., . -i I J looked ud at the words froaa the old trunk I was packing with my poor bits of. treasures aad my few wprn clothes, and saw Annie Hope standing beside me, with her hands folded under her white apron.. . one was me tiniest girl of ten, with violet eyes and Qsxen hair, g3den where Jiesurj, kissed U;e ripples tucked into the purplenek: . ;i , vj She was no kin ot mine. 1 had had none that I knew of since the sea washed', me ashore npen the bleak Maine coast, lashed to my dead -mother' 'breast, and' kind old Grandfather Hope, 'coming dawn to see the dead forms strewn upon the beach, had found me livimr and taken me nome wiin mm. -I could remember nothing of the time,but I almost fancied that I could,.. and that it was not onlv in dreams that I had seen my mother, with tfyes like little Annie Hope' smiling at me in my cradle. . 1 .Perhaps my papy eyes naa seen ner angei soiriU-Heaven only knows. . . ". Now moat of aU. the old DeoDlebeine dead. and John Hope, Annie s father, and I tallei out with each other because I hated his trade of shoemaking, and would not be apr nrenticed to his brother, the baker, I longed for a mother to sympathise with me and love m aod elung to little Annie, . as the one thing fond of me in all the ' world. .When she spoke I looked up and saw that comfort in her child's face, aod put my arm 'about her. . , ! No help was I to have from John Hope, for he was very angry with me, and none would I have accepted, lor 1 was just as amrrw with him. xiaa ne noisaia, witn nis own quiet sneer and an ill-favored leer 'no words couia aojustica to : "Abore' shoeojakin'ehl'i That's takip airs, I reckon, when yon come to- think that only far a siioeeaaker you d a. ueea in, tae Poor-bouse. , set a ueggar & nosa-Dacc ana it not be swesrm to saw where he d ride tn, bat that's where you'er agoin,' Mr. Walter Medway. t i.i tt .,.t i, Ail the blood in my veins boued wliea 11 remembered that, and but for Annie, stand ins: near ua with violet eyes wide open and her lips apart with wonder, I. should . have struck him ; I could not, though, before his child. - And that brings me back to her, the little creature whose silken cheek touched mine and whose voice uttered .those words again: . , . . . , i suppose you never come dace, waiter, what shall i do?' . j, , t,..;i.i ,, "Forget roe, I suppose,' 1 said.. . . " She shook her head. '.'Nobodr plava with me like won. . Don't go, Walter. i-Why don't yoa like to rnalte shoes? Stay, and I'll coax father to let yon make the red ones," .1 : ' ; " 1 most eo, Annie, . I said. - "But I will come back some day rich and famous, I hope, and then you will know better than you de aow wny a oon i want to mane shoes ; and while I am gone try u remember me, dear no one else will. ; ' ; ..-n ' ' She nut her arms about mv neck at that and began to err, and I took my jackknife ont ot my pocket ana pet on asiender naxen cnrl.. : - r. i: What s that forI" she asked. . ... .. "To remember you by," I said. - . ; . "Then give me one of yours. Walter.' ' she sobbed, and the next instant -a little .brows ring of hair lay on her white palm,...,. , "I'll never lose iL Walter." f ! . And I kissed the child for the last time and shouldered my, old trunk and went dowa d Airs. - - , ., ..n . "I'm going, John," I said at tha. shop door. , -a.. . '. "Well, well, as .oii. brew so you must drink, said the shoemaker, still stitching. But his wife came out with her, baby in. her arms and held out her hand. - 1 "Good-bye," she said ; "and rfyou Change your mind halfway on the. road John shall torsive you and take you back. " . I - . 1 pressed the motherly band, but 1 made no answer, and, nve minutes after, bad trudged out into the road on the way to meet the stage, i nere were tears in my eyes and a ereat lump in my throat, but 1 had no thought oi going back again, even when irom the stase roof 1 saw wee Annie perched up on the little garden fence waving her hand u me ana nut tusi ; j, snu mj.iaay jove werA indeed rtarted '". '"J ''1' 1 " I ..V It was done. - l bat. night 1 slept in a strange city, a exi aajr i was indeed sees:. mir mv fortune. , ',. A fortune is a hard thing to find.' , Many and many a time I wished myself back in Rushton before 1 found it. . Uften at night nightfall - fall nightfall have I wandered down to the wharves and stood looking down into the turbid wa ter. wishinir lor couracre to burv all mv woes there, but tie day came when my lucky star arose. . 1 did some slight service, by chance, for an old surgeon, who chose to think more of it than it deserved, and who took me into his ofnce in his gratitude. In time he grew even fond of me, and to consider me in the light of a son, so that it came to pass that at last I found myself a surgeon in good prac practice, - tice, practice, in fact making my own fortune, . and with every prospect ot becoming celebrated in the profession I had chosen. " . l I was very young no longer. ,' The boy's smooth cheek was changed to a manly beard. I was broad of chest and tall of stature. ,No one would have known me for the youth who packed bis little trunk in the shoe shoemaker's - maker's shoemaker's garret years before, but I had not forgotten the time, nor the violet eyes of my babv true love, and mr promise to her. The lock of golden hair I yet wore next to my heart, and the day came when 1 resolved to go to Rushton, and see those amongst whom I had been reared. ' I wondered what my welcome would be whether John Hope ?! j ' ' H(..; N-:l ;;; i

"Te amo. . 'April 13-14. Friday, the idea "Until to-day nothing waa ever thought of sacrificing to our country's wroags. For six months we had worked to capture ; but our cause being almost lost, something de decisive - cisive decisive sad great must be done. But ita fail ure waa owing to otnera, wna aiu not nnie for their country with a heart I struck boldly and not as the papers say. I walked with a firm step through a thousand of hia friends and was stopped, bat pushed on. A . colonel was at his side. I shouted SSe sem per: before l hred. in jumping, oroae my leg. I passed all his pickets, rode sixty miles that night with the bone of my leg tearing the flesh at every jump. I can never re nen l it though we bated to kill.- Oar country owed all her trouble to him, and Uod simply mane me we instrument oi ma punishment "The eotietry ia not (April, 1865,what it was. i This forced Union ia not what 1 have loved. 1 care not wnat be comes of me..' I have no deiirete outlive my country. . This night,- before the deed, I wrote a long article and left it for one of the editors of the National InteSgtnotry in-which I fully set forth our reasons for our proceed proceeding - ing proceeding He or the government ' ' Friday. 21st After being hunted like a dog through swamps, woods, and last night being.chased by gunboats till I was forced to return, wet, cold and starving, . with every man s hand against me, 1 am here in despair. And Why? For.doing what Brutos was honored for, what made Tell a hero.' And yet I, for striking down S greater tyrant than they ever knew, am looked upon as a corn- -ion cnt-throat. My action waa purer than either ef theirs. One hoped to be great ; the other had not only ' but country's, hut hia own wrongs m arcugu. . x nupv l-v guu. I knew no private, wrong. 1 struck tor my country, and that at oncej a country that groaned, beneath, hia tyranny and prayed for his end. And yet now behold the cold hand they extend to me. " God cannot par pardon - don pardon me if I have done wrong.. Yet I can not see my wrong, except in serving a de- finerate people. The hUle; the very Utile, left behind to clear my name the govern ment will not allow to be printed. So ends all. -For my country I have) given ap- all that makes life sweet and boly, brought misery upon my family, and am sure there is no .pardon in the heaven for me aince man condemns me so. .1 have only heard of what has been done, except what I did my myself, - self, myself, and it fills me with horror. God try and forgive me ; and bless my mother. To Tonight - night Tonight x will ones more try the river with tha intent to cross, though I have a greater de desire - sire desire and almost a mind to return to Wash Washington - ington Washington and to n -measure clear my same, which I feel I can do. . I de not repent tha blow 1 struck. I may before my God, "but not to man.' I think I have done ,well, though I am abandoned, with the corse of Cain upon when if the world knew my heart, that one blow woald -letve made me -great, though I did desire no greatness. To Tonight - night Tonight I try to escape these bloodhound- once more. Who, who caa read hie fate? God 'a will be done. I have too great a soul to die like a criminal.' May He spare me that and let me die bravely. I bless the entire world ; -have never hated or wronged any one. This last was not a wrong unless God deems it so, and it's with- Him to damn or bless me. Hard for this brave boy with me, who often pray a yea, before and since, with a true and sincere heart Was it crime in him? I do not wish to shed a drop of blood, but I must fight the course. - 'T is all that's left me." Upon a piece of paper found in the diary, and supposed to have been torn from it,ia written the following: . "My dea piece torn out Forgive me, but I have some little pride. lean not blame you for want of hospitality ; you know your own affairs. I was sick, tired, with a bro broken - ken broken limb, and in need of medical advice. I woald. not have turned a dog from my door in such a plight. . However, you were kind enough to give as something to eat, for which -I not only ; thanked you, not on account of the rebuke and manner in which to piece torn out) It is not the substance, but the way in which kindness is extended that makes one happy in the acceptance thereof. The. aauce to meat is eeremoay. Meeting were bare without it. .Be kind enough to accept the enclosed five dollars, although hard to. spare, for what we hare received." Judge Holt says: "The diary purports to be one for 1864, and the leaves cut or torn from-it probably contained entries of that year, and were thus distroyed by Booth himself. It is ab absolutely - solutely absolutely certain that the diary is in all re respects - spects respects as it was when it came into my hands, and Colonel Conger, who was prominent in the pursuit and capture of Booth, after hav having - ing having carefully examined it in my presence on yesterday, declared its condition to be now precisely the same as when he took it from Booth's body after he had been shot the, writing in it being the same, and all which it then contained. Conger- was examined before the Judiciary Committee of the House of to-day. J. Holt,

"It takes nine tailors to make a man" but one is enough to ruin him. . . L What ailments are policemen the moat af afflicted - flicted afflicted with? Felons on their hands. , Naturalists have now settled the fact tha erery cow once wore calfskin boots. When is a tombstone like a rushlight? When it is set up for a late husband. - Why is a conscientious grocer like a com pass? Because he gives you the correct way. What's best to prevent old men from de- sparingf Echo: "Pairing." Why are the ladies like Scotch snuff? Be cause they will bring a foolish man to his knees (snees.) t It is well enough ithat men should be killed by love. Man born of woman should die of woman. A Nevada paper wishes bachelor to be taxed heavily enough to drive them either to D1.U1U1UUJ ui suiciuts. A fool in high station ia like a man in a balloon everybody appears little to him, and be appears little to everybody. .. We see," said Swift, in one of his most sarcastic moods, "what God thinks of riches by the people he gives them to." "Sam, why am Senators like the fishes?" "I don't meddle wid thesubiee'. Pomp." Why, don't ye see, nigger because dey am fond of debate. Different sounds will travel with different velocity a call to dinner will run over a ten- acre field in a moment and a hal& while a summons to return to work takes from five to eight minutes. ,,;. An honest Hibernian, trundling along a handcart containing all his valuables, was accosted thus: "Well, Patrick, you are rooy. ing again, I see. "Faith I am," he replied, "for the times are so hard it's a dale cheaper hiring handcarts, man paying rints. An English traveller,, by mistake left tn under garment at a country inn, where he had passed a night. He wrote to the land lady to forward to him the missing article, whereupon he received the following reply: "My gentle sir, pray don't feel hurt; I'll frankly tell you all about it I've made a shift of your old shirt, r And you must make a shift without it. "Why, Mary, my dear how is this ; find you sitting here so comfortable with your husband? You told me this morning vou bad quarreled, and he had gone for' a sailor." "1, father I, I told nothing of the kind. - Oh, nonsense! 1 am sure you had some words together." "Yes, father, so we did. He asked me what o clock it was, said I didn't knew, and so he left the' house, saying he was going to see. That's all I told you," - . - This note came with a baby to the door, step of a house in San Francisco: "Dear Mrs. Chamberlain, I am a little motherless child. My father is poor but honest. He has four other children to support ; but my Heavenly Father has sent me unto you, to be a daughter to you. I have no name ; therefore, please give me what name you may choose. 1 bring with me my bottle. Feed me only on one cow's milk. - Yours, affectionately, Babx.- There is a story told of a rebel soldier, who was one day passing a house in which- he beard a young lady playing the piano and singing, that will be appreciated by onr musical friends. He stopped and listened attentively, until the damsel ceased singing, when he put bis head through the open win dow, and said: "If you please, Miss, be kind enough tOCLAWTHBIVORT ANO HOWL AOAISI Somewhat startled, she asked what he meant "Why. play and sing some more;" which she good-naturedly did. . ... . : "What ia the use of living?" snarled; veteran grumbler, the other day. "We are flogged for crying when we are babies : hog ged because the schoolmaster is cross, when we are boys ; obliged to toil, sick or well, or starve,when we are men ; to worn aim hard er (and suffer something worse!) when we are husbands ; and, after exhausting life and strength in the service of other people, die, and leave our children to quarrel about the possession of our watch ; and our wife -to eaten someoooy eise. -

On the 9th Instant President Johnson call- ' ed upon the Secretary of War for "a certi certified - fied certified copy" of the Diary bund opon the body of J. Wilkes Booth, together with a succinct statement oi au we lacut cunnecteu "i w capture and ita possession by the War-Department'' I On tha 11th, Secretary Stan' ton sent to the President the following let letter: - ter: letter: - " - - : I hare the aooor to lubnii hMsviLh a opy of the entries contained in the memor memorandum - andum memorandum book found oa the person of J. Wilkes Booth at the time of his capture. certified by General Holt Judge-Advocate- LGeoeral, who haa possesion of the book, to- ' get her with his report in relaltoc inereio. The memorandum book waa first seen my me about the 26th day of A prU, 1865, ahort ahort-ly - ly ahort-ly after Booth's capture, and a few hours be before - fore before hut remains reached 'Washington. It Was brought to my house by Provost-Mar- shal Baker and another person who waa, I think, Lieutenant-Colonel Conger. - The book waa then examined by me in presence ef General Eckert, Assistant Secretary of War, and was found to contain only the entries certified by General Holt, also some photo photographs - graphs photographs of females. Immediately preceding the entries some pages appeared to have been cutout, but there was nothing indicating . what had been written thereon, or whether any thing nad been written, or when erby whom they had been cut ont Immediately after careful examination of the book and ita contents, it was placed in the beads of Gen General - eral General Eckert, in the same condition aa when I first saw it, to be delivered to the Judge-Ad-' ' Vocate-General, in whose possession, after its . delivery to him by General, Eckert, I am in informed - formed informed and believe, it has continued np to - the present time. ' , The last time I saw the book was some time last winter. ' It was then before the . Judiciary Committee of the House of Re presentatives, and was in an respects in ex actly the same condition as when I saw it hrst, without any Change or alteration, so lax aa I could discover, in it contents. Gener al Eckert reported to me that upon recmr recmr-ing - ing recmr-ing the memorandum book from me he seal seal-edit - edit seal-edit up and locked it up in his safe, and it continued in hia possession until he deliver delivered - ed delivered it to the Judge-Adrocate General, and that it was in the same condition as when it Was brought to my house by Baker. . "Very respectfully, your obedient servant, Edwis if. Stastox, Secretory or War." Judge-Advocate-General Holt certifies that the following is a copy of the writing in pencil found in the diary taken from tha of Booth: ' '