Beaufort Republican, 1871-10-12

UKr arcsa was ui uiautv po.iauabi.ba, ou trimmed, with a small tunic, and a gei , eral look of scantiness about it. She woi .ft little white shirt-collar and cuffs, ar not a single jewel, save one diamond st? that held the little collar. Her mann< suit her imperial presence, simply, court , ou8, earnest. It is as of a ready-witt( p woman, sweeet-tempered, full of hums interests attd feelings, impressions bl '? mobile, fascinating; emphasizing all sb j says with her grandly cut Spanish eye: i that might almost indeed stand her in li( of speech, so eloquently do they convers There is a wonderful and varied char about her, Cleopatra-like, that neither a< nor costom can wither or stale. To s< ( how the woman struggled with the Ec r press, and how it brought her down ' j sympathy arS pity from a solitary strai I ger, was very touching. Decorum aloi . kept tears from my eyes. [ She began in English (which she speal , readily, and with a good accent, only no , and then wanting a word which she asl , you with her eyes to supply) by regrettin that the Emperor was too^ill to see m "Not ill, far from it," she said, "that I God, but suffering greatly from rheuruat . pains, in consequence of a chill when 1 > first arrived at Chiselhurst. The weal , er had been warm and fine, and he hs been tempted out, too much wrapped i p (for it was so cold at "Wilhelmnhohe,) at he had incautiously taken off his paletc . and so cought cold, which had product r an attack of rheumatism." j Then she expressed much interest aboi t the place I came from. It was associate ; with her earlj life. Ah! how happy I wi . then?it seems like a dream?so happy, and her glorious eyes glistened. "Ho well I remember the house where I wi [ at school, the broad terrace and the di > taut bills, and my companions?my dei , friends?they have not forgotten me." t "Yes," said I, "young Miss B ." j "Young! ah, no!" and she laughe . "She is not young; she is my age, an that is not young." It is not allowed to contradict sove s eigns, but as she said this she was a li ' ing contradiction of her own statemen She looked wonderfully youthful, and h . present thinness is very becoming in tb ' respect. ' "When I first came to England," si a continued, "1 desire to go there." "Ah1 madame, why did you not com Wp woii1<1 havp. received vou with enth

e- do not desire justification. Time will do ih that. Let events speak. By and by Eun rope shall judge the Emperor fairly. Q. I expressed a hope that the trials she f. had undergone in Paris had not injured a- her health. re "No," she replied. Then she con tinid ued: "I was forsaken by all the ministers, tr Trochu, whome the Emperor had appiont?r ed, lett me. They all left me and betraye betrayeed - ed betrayeed me. What could I do I I was alone. ?d Ah,'* she added, with an inspired look, in "It was my passion!" e, She turned her tearful eyes to heaven. ie "Her passion!" Coulq anything be s, more touching? Woman as I was, I could ;u have died for her. e. "I was alone," she repeated, as though m in justification; "utterly abandoned, re What could I do but lly? I was afraid. 2e I could look death in the face: but all had q- left me." to "Were the datails of your Majesty's a- flight which appeared in the newspapers ie accurate?" "Yes," said she, "tolerably so. For to thirty days I was guarded by those men w of Belleville. Oh, it was horrible 1 They to took possession of the Tuilleries. My only ig happiness was, that I suffered alone. The e. Emperor away and my boy safe. No! I ik could not have borne it had my boy been ic in danger." ie Again the inspired look came into the h- biauiiful Spanish eyes, td "By what door did these wretches enip ter the Tuileries, madame?" 1(j "Everywhere?by all the doors and the ,t? winriows, too. They came down from the d Place de la Concorde. I saw them coming through the trees. Then they broke over

e ?he thermometer at Brown's that evene inj, indicated 15? below zero; but no fears [- wffe harbored in the mind of any one as tothe safety of the one who had so uncer_ enoniously left the camp "homeward r tound." r Weeks passed on, and nothing had been a seen or heard of Shakes since his depart8 ure. Norway Flat had almost forgotten him. Brown, the landlord of the uOccidental," was standing in his doorway, M gazing abstractedly at the distant windc windcing8 - ing8 windcing8 of the "down country'' trail. It was t only the previous day that a prospecting 2 party had passed along it from the Flat, e bound for the deserted mining camp ol Diggers' Delight, situated about ten miles distant. His thoughts naturally recurred ! to their departure and prospects. Sud7 denly, his quick eye detected in the dis? tance a group of men slowly trudging toward the Flat, and was somewhat astona iehed to recognize in them the prospecton of Diggers' Delight returning, bearing ' with them a heavy burden. The new? j soon spread that Shakes had been found dead at Diggers' Delight. It was evidenl that night had overtaken him there, and that he had determined to spend it in ont of the deserted shanties. The lire-place . j had been filled by him with wood, readj lurtne match; but it remained unkindled, Why, ho one could answer. The verdicl . of all who heard the story was that he hac fallen a victim to the severity of the weath er on the evening of the day he left the

lneoriate as he was, Shakes was not in detect. He was always, in sunshine o rain, engaged in chopping cord-wood, o in riving shakes?long shingles; frot which latter occupation he received hi nickname. The sun rose on Shakes en tering the woods , it set upon him mafc inga "bee-line" for the "Pony Saloon. Fire-wood was worth SO a cord, an shakes 816 a thousand, in those days, 01 Norway Flat Shakes always choppe< fron two to three cords per day. Thre dolare a cord he paid Billy the boal min" for hauling it, which, of coursi considerably diminished his earning} stfl, there was a good margin left. How ; itcame to pass that he should always h } por, could never be satisfactorily ex j pained. His condition of being, what hi ? trmed "flat broke," was patent to all . ad was considered another of the mys ) tries of his peculiar life that no one caret 2 t solved, and accepted unquestioned. Norway Flat, since the time of its dii i overy in *52, had'continued to be a pros erous.mining ramp. Tht fabulous yiefc f I ;?f manv ot claim." K" ' ^ ' j <?f the leading newspaper " ! if the civ J* world Numerous oppoi I K.mit'cs lu : o?en oh';red Shakes to be j '. some the j 'bsrsor of ground of a proruii (,'trv rl?.\rat U'.r, subsequently proving ri< b mining, however, possessed no attraction t for him. There existed no affinity be . tween his nature and the excitement c . the average goldminer's life. He neve

every one's iivorite, and every one'f laughing-stock. What his real name was "O one on the Flat, excepting the Post ster, knew or seemed at all anxious t< * -tain. In outward appearance, hi a specimen of debased humanity ^Vbar.cbery war ndelibly stained upoi *w-/ /J" T n *i?b to tee him with a cleat face. Stwski o I gra\ force* vhe a ecu muJwicus that .g to hi>, long ? -?? . _ - . . .... oc?. u. v coarse >} woolen overall irt, with .altered svr- coverec hi back, from whence miny doubted whether it had been removed since the day he first put it on, in Giffin'sstore, twelve months ago. His du:k pants had completely lost their origin/! whiteness, and were tucked into a wdl-worn, much-patched pair of gumbcots. The veritable felt hat, worn by | hru in '52, still maintained its usual posiIticn on the side of his head. The only cbmge it had apparently undergone since then, was that a piece of an old rubber [coat now constituted the crown. Shakes's history outside of the precincts of Norway Flat, was wrapped in i complete mystery. Even the time of his ? arrival in the camp was unknown. kH' >wn, the proprietor of the "Occidental" ?Norway Flat's principal hotel, drinking and dancing-saloon?and also one of | the pioneers of the place, asserted, I "Shakes bummed around here when I ust 'rived in '52." It was generally be -

i Flat, or, as they expressed it, "fri2 dead.' In an inside pocket of a vest worn unf derneath his ragged overshirt, a pocket o: I letters was found, all of which were writ3 ! ten in the same handwriting, and address 0 ed to *'James Wilkinson, Esq , Norwaj a Flat." Sundry photographs were alsc ^ discovered in the same pocket?one of at g aged lady, another of a woman in th( prime of life, and the rest of three beauti e lul girls of from ten to fifteen years of age e All the letters bore the same post-mark, j u , Me." Each envelope was indorsee in pencil mark, "Reed, (date,) J. W.' One of them was indorsed, "liecd. Novr, 17, 1859, J. W." That was the day thai ] Shakes left Norway Flat. Its content! explained the mystery of his life and pov erty, and ran thus: * , Maine, Aug. 30,1859. My dear Jamea: Your last remittance of $250 ha. ? been duly received, and flic mortgage on the farm is nov e ; j?id. * * * Have you not impoverished yourself t< a keep us in comparative luxury? Wt have wanted noth ing. * * Mother is ailing and rapidly declining Doctor says she eannot possildy live through the cominj y winter. She longs to see you, James, before she die*. , * * Ktuina, Annie, and (ierty are all well. * * * (J ^ James, do come home at onee; if not, 1 shall sell the plaa t i next spring, and come to Norway Flat myself. Your affectionate wife,

v** T'"' If vindictive, the elephant is also grateful. At I'ondicherry, a soldier who treated an elephant to a dram of arrack eVery time he received his pay, found himself the worst for liquor. When the guard were about to carry him off to prison, he took refuge under the elephant and fell asleep. His protector would let no" one appear, and watched him carefully all night. In the morning, after caressing with bis trunk, he dismissed him to settlef with the authorities as best he could. IT # Both revenge and gratitude imply intelligence; still more docs the application of an unfercseen expedient. A train of artillery going to Seringapatam had to cross to the shingly bed, of a river. A man who was sitting on a gun-carriage fell; in another second the wheel would have passed over his body. An elephant walking by the side of the carriage saw' the danger ^and instantly, without any order from his keeper, lifted the wheel from the ground, leaving the man unla* jured. Queen Victoria Fancies. Whatever may be the truth in regard to the report that Queen Victoria intends5 to abdicate the throne of England, it is known that she has been laboring for some year past under atleast one phase' r\f manfal infirmifir QVin hoa a firm nnn.

owned a foot of mining ground, "an* didn't intend to," he was accustomed t say; "I go lur the sure thing." Evei when the Wake-up Jake Company atrucl a two-ounces-to-the-pan prospect, Shake declined to staking oft the adjoininj ground, then vacant, and upon which h was at the time chopping wrood. Th same piece of ground afterward prove* the richest spot on the whole Flat, near ly 1,200 ounces being obtained from it a the proceeding of one day's washing This lack of enterprise?this disinclina tion to venture?was supposed to be th morbid offspring of his dissipated career The only things for which he appeared t< have any care were his axe, cross-cut saw and frower. These constituted his entir stock in trade, and for them he cheris"ne< something bordering upon affection. Stakes was viewed as one of Norwa; Flat's fixtures. It had been settted lonj ago in the minds of ita inhabitants tha his bones would decay in the little ceme teryon the knoll overlooking the Flat The idea of his removing was never for i moment entertained by any one in tha j secluded community. Shakes and Nor