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Sunbury American. (Sunbury, Pa.) 1848-1879, June 19, 1852, Image 1

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II. B. MASSER EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
OFFICE, MARKET STREET, OPPOSITE THE POST OFFICE.
a iTamfltf iictospaptr-Drtoun to JjotWcs, flltcrnture, Jttorali, jForcfon an Domestic sirtus, science an the art, aorfculture, fflxvltts, amusements, c
NlfiW 8ERIKS VOL. a, NO. 13.
SUXIIUHY, NOimiUMIlEHLANI) COUNTY, 1AM SATURDAY, JUNE 19. I 85a.
OLD SERIES VOL. la, NO. 30.
AMERICAN
I . V
TERMS OF THE AMERICAN.
1'ff'riS?iLCAN '" PJ"hert every Bntanlny ni
. .. , ,., ,,, ,0 , .,, ra, VCIirlv ,
rH vice. No paper discontinued until all srrearagt arc
All commnnlaitlnnt or tetters on Imstnem rrlnttng t
ns office, lo inure (mention, most b POST PAID.
TO CLUBS.
Three copies to one address, 5 00
Seven J,, ,,,
I- ive dollars in ndvsncn will pay for three year's sub
cripuoii to the American.
One fViunie of 18 linei, 3 tlmee,
J-veiy euloquent iiieiTtUm,
One Riiunre, 3 months,
Pix months,
One year,
Business Cnrrls of Five llnea, per annum,
Merchants and otliera, advertiiliiK liy the
year, with the privilege of inserting
different advertisement, weekly.
13"" Larger Advaniieinente, n per agreement.
i on
si
3(1(1
6( (I
S1KI
31X1
10(10
. H. Be MASSES,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Gvxtnvnv, pa.
Business attended to in the Counties of Nor
thumberland, Union, Lycoming and Columbia,
ltefer lot
P. & A. Ttovoudt,
Lower cV Durron,
Soinpr & Snodsmsn.
lteynolds, McFtirlaiiJ & Co.,
hpcrmg, Good v Lo.,
JAMBS J. KASLLS,
Attorney and Cov.nsellor at Law,
SUNBURY, PA.
"VsXTILL attend faithfully and rompl1y to nil
" " professional business, in NorthumWrland
and Union counties. He is familiar with the
German Inngnoge.
OFFICE :- Opposite the "Lawrence House,"
m few doors from the Court House.
tSunbury, Aug. 16, 1851. ly.
J. STEWART DEPUY.
A .North 2d street, above Wood,
(lUtrnt District) Philadelphia, would
respectfully cull the attention of hisf iends
mid llit" public, in general, to his Inrae and
well selected atork of Carpets, Oil Cloths,
Mattings, Window tshidca, Stair itods,
cVc, Ac.
VenitiMi CorprtiniT from 7 cl lo 1(0 v'n pT yl.
Inirmin " ' IfJ " !) "
Three Ply in) " !. " "
lirusarfa " ll'.'J " I. 'ill " "
Door Mutts. He would invite the atten
tion of dealers and others to his large stork
of Tioot Mailt which ho mnnuhielures
in great variety mid of splendid quality.
Oil. Cloths, from 1 yard to R yards wide
wholesale and retail.
April 10, 1852. Cm.
' HARRT3BTJRG STEAM WOOD
TURNING AND SCROLL SAWING
CHOP. Wood Turning in all its branched,
in rity style and at city prices. Every variety of
Cabinet and Carpenter work either on hand or
turned to order.
Ibid Posts, Uatu-dcr, Rosells, Shit and Q iar
ter Mouldings, Table Legs, Newell Posts, Pat
terns, Awning Posts, Wagon Hubs, Columns,
Round or Octagon Chisel Handles, fee.
f(T This shop is in STRAWBERRY AL
LEY, near Third Street, and ns we intend to
f lease all otir customers who want good work
done, it is hoped that all the trade wil' give us a
call.
fjiT Ten-rins und Ten-rin IJalls made to or
der or returned.
The attention of Cabinet Makers and Carpen
ters is called to our new stvlo of TWIfsT
MOULDINGS. Printer's Rigl'ets at 1 per 100
feet. -. W. O. HICKOK.
February 7, 1852. ly.
HARDWARE, CUTLERY AND GTJNS,
J'os 31 c- 33 Market Street,
PHILADELPHIA.
THE subscribers would call the attention of
buyers to their stock of Hardware, consisting
of Table and Pocket Knives, Guns, Chains,
Locks, Hollow arc, eVc. &c. We would rccoin
mend to all, our
Endless Chain Pumps,
a new article now getting into general use which
we can furnish complete at about one half the
price paid for the old style Pumps, also a new ar
ticle of ,l:inilS race Door U. each
Lock suited either for right or left hand doors,
with rnineral or whilu knobs.
Our stock nf C.II11S is large and well select
ed, comprising single and double barrels, English
and German make. All goods can be returned
if not found to be as represented. Country mer
chants wotdd do well to cull on us before pur
chasing elsewhere.
Wheelwrights and carriage makers supplied
with goods suited to their business, bv calling on
W. H. & G. W. ALLEN,
Nos. 31 & 33 Market Street, Philadelphia.
February, 21, 1852. 6mo.
WM. McCARTY, Bookseller,
nnwiY, srm itY, iv.
HAS just received and for sale, Purdons Di
gest of the laws of Pennsylvania, edition of
1851, price only 0,00.
Judge Reads edition of Blackstones Commen
taries, in 3 vols. 8 vo. formerly sold at $10,00,
and now offered (in fresh binding) at the low
price ofSO.UU.
A Treatise on the laws of Pennsylvania re
specting the estates of Decedents, by Thomas F.
Gordon, price only $1,00.
Kossuth find the Hungarian war: comprising
a complete history of the late struggle for freedom
of that country, with notices of the leading chiefs
and statesmen, who distinguished themselves in
council and in tho fiaJd, containing 288 pages of
interesting matter with authentic portraits.
Kossuth's address to the people of the United
States, with a portrait, printed on broadcast, and
put on rqllcri after the manner of maps, price
only 50 oenU. Washington's farewell address,
nifrra "y'6 wi,h ,,ove'
February, 51, 1852 tt.
'&lden' Condensed Report of i'eaiia.
I'M I 'til Published, and for sale by the subscri-
0 ber tlva iSneoud I'ohsm of A Men's Con
tleiisftl Pennsylvania Reports, containing the
buO,. three olumes of Vente' Reports, and two
first volumes of Binncy's Reports. The first vol
ume of Alden, containing Dallas' llcporH, 4 L
umeti inl Yeatea' KeporU, volume 1, if also on
hand and for sale. The abuc two volumes are
eomiiete witlun themselves, and contain all of
Dallas' Reports, 4 volumes, and all of Ycutes
Report, 4 volumes, besides the two first volumes
of piniiey's Reports. The third volume is ready
end Will oe PUl to press mcuiau-ij.
"i..-i r H. U. MASSER, AgenU
Bupfmry, Aug. 18. 1851.
io v.li. ' WANTED TO BORROW
rV'ELVB HUNDRED DOLLARS in two
urn nf six hundred dollars each, for which
good frte-hold aecurity will be given. Address
M. W.
Sunbury, Feb. 28, 1852 tf.
1y JC-u-Boureau's celebrated ink, and also Con
re ink for sale, wholesale and retail by
December 88, 1850. H B MASSER.
SELECT POETRY.
EVELINE.
TIT W. R. WALLACE.
The sunny evs of tho maltlcn fair
Dive answer better Hum voice tr pen
That as he I ves he is loved ugain. C. C. Leeds.
Love me dourly, love me ilunrly, wilh jour
heart nnd with your eyes;
Whisper all your sweet emotions, as they
(lushing, L I u s 1 1 i 1 1 r rise ;
Throw your soft while arms nbonl ine J saj
you cannot live without me:
Say, you are my Eveline; say, that you are
only mine !
Thill you cannot live without me, young and
rosy Eveline !
Love me dearly, dearly, clearly ; speak your
Inve-worJs silver-cleat l"y;
So I may not doubt thus early of your fond
ness, of your truth.
Press, oh ! press your throbbing bosom close
ly, wuimly Id my own:
Fix your kindled eyes on miuu jay you live
for me nloni'.
Whilu I (ix my ryes on Ihinp,
Lovely, trn-tioo. intli'S!-, plighted : plighted,
rosy Kvt line.
Love me ilenily love me dearly: radiant
dawn upon my uloom :
Ratish me Willi Beauty's bloom :
Tell me 1 Lite has yet a (jlory ; 'tisnol all an
idle alory !"'
Asa gladdened val in noonliolu ; as a weary
lake in moonlight,
Let me in Ihy love recline:
.Show me life hns yet a Fplendor in my ten
der Eveline.
Love me dearly, dearly, dearly, wilh your
heart ami wilh your eyes:
Whisper all your sweet emotions ns they
liushinL'. bliishiinf rie.
rino'.v your soil white nuns around me; say
you i'lwf mil ti l miii looiiil mo
Say it. s.iv i', Km line! wlii.-pr Jnu are only
mine :
That you cnimot live without me, ns you
throw your arms u bout me,
That you cannot live without me, artless rosy
r.vLi.ixK :
3. Skctcl).
A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE.
The following marvellous and interest
ing narrative is given in a letter from Par
is, under date of the 15th January last,
Irani the correspondent of the St. Louis I
Republican :
The venerable Abbess of the Ursuline .
Convent of Nevere, whose life was, per
haps, one of the most eventful on record, I
died last week at the advanced age ol nine-j
ty-eight. For fifty years she has been an
initiate of the convent, winning the love '
and respect of all who approached htr. J
In the slimmer of 17(i'2, there broke out j
in the city of Paris a disease very similar
to what is now called cholera, and which ,
was quite as fatal in its consequences. AS- !
though not contagious, the immense num-
her of person attacked by it led the people j
to think it was so, and terror took hold of,
the minds ol all. Mothers abandoned their j
children, wives their husbands, sisters their j
brothers, and almost as many perished by j
flight as by the disease itself. In two i
months thirty-one thousand persons were
buried in the different burial grounds around
the city. The hospitals were crowded
so much crowded that the physicians and
nurses passed wilh riilGculty among the
beds, and the demand for admission was so
great that every day a long file of sick
might be seen at the door, some supported
by relations, but the most part lying on the
ground, waiting until their turn should
come to be admitted, but olten before night '
the half of them were carried to the ceme- J
tery, instead of the infirmary. As may
well be supposed the task of the physicians
was no light one, and, finally they were i
obliged to organize their labor, and force !
themselves to repose a certain time every j
day, and take the service in turns, in order i
to be able to bear up under the extraordi
nary elforts they were called upon to make.
One day, as a young physician, he who
twenty years later was known as a celebra
ted Dr. Soulie, was leaving the hospital i
to go and take his turn of repose, a servant I
man, breathless and pale, met him at the
rate and asked him if he was a physician. I
The doctor answered in the affirmative,'
and the man begged him, for God's sake, to .
go to a house in the neighborhood and see a
sick person. Although against the rule1
they had established, the doctor consented, ;
a:nl was conducted to the house by the ser- ;
vant, who showed him into a large, hand- '
. 1.. I : I.. I T .I,!. .U-!
.siiiii'iy luruisiu'u room, in tins room ine
doctor remarked first a tall, handsome wo
man, with her hair all in disorder, and her
face pale a a corpse, s'aruling near, and
screening a child, who lay upon a sofa.
Around her was collected a group of
twelve young girls, who looked lo the doc
tor to be nearly of the same age, and trade
him suppose it was a boarding i hool, par
ticularly as these young girls all wore dark
green silk dresses, and had their blond hair
braided and tied with blue rib O'is. The
doctor could see no oiffvrence between any
ol them; they all had fair skins, small blue
eyes, light hair, long noses and large
mouths; but before he could ask any ques
tions aooui mem, tne woman advanced
hurriedly, and seized him by the arm, led
him to the sofa, and in a hoarse voice said
"Look at that child." The doctor look
edbefore him lay a beautiful little girl of
about ten yean of age, but utterly did .rent
from tho others. Her hair was black a
midnight, and hung in ringlets over her
boulders: her eyes were closed, and her
livid complexion end contracted features
showed that the dreadful disease had sei
sed upon her.
'Open that window," said the doctor,
"and bring some vinegar immediately to
rub 'he child's body."
'What!" cried the woman, "she has
not got the plague 1"
"Why, certainly ; did you not know it ?"
answered the doctor.
"No, no, take her away, take her away.
She shan't stay here to kill us all. Come
my daughters, come away quick! Oh!
the wretched child, she will be the death
of you!" and she pushed the twelve girls
out of the room, and went after them.
Put the doctor sprang after her.
"Are you the mother of that child 1" he
inquired.
"Yes; but lake her away she shan't
stay here."
"She must be pnl to bed and taken care
of,"' said the doctor.
"She shall not hare a bed in this house
take her away."
"But where am I to take her? besides
she will die if removed."
"I don't care, take her to the hospital ;
anywhere; only take her away from this
house."
Tl)oii(;h horrified by the feeling expres
sed by this unnatural mother, the doctor
tried a moment to persuade her to do some
thing for her child : but finding it useless,
and seeing that if he left the little girl in
the house she would die from neglect, he
took her hi his arms, wrapped her in a
blanket, and carried her to the hospital, j
where he was fortunate enough to find a
vacant bed lor the little sufferer.
The doctor then made some inquiries
concerning her parents, and learned that
Monsieur Domergue was a manufacturer of
large means, and his wife really the mother
of thirteen children, all daughters, duly re
gistered at the Mayor's office as having
been born in seven years.
Six limes Madam Uomergue hroujht a
pair into the world all wonderfully resent- j
bling each other, light hair, blue eyes, fair
i-kin and sharp features. The mother ;
adored them, and her pride and joy was at :
the climax when she found her family I
again about to be increased. Put alas this ;
time she was disappointed, for a little girl !
arrived, but withot.t any companion. This 1
alone would have been enough tr have i
turned her mother's heart from her, hut be
sides this she was entirely different from
the twelve others. The mother could see
no beauty in her clear brunette complex
ion, her black curling hair, dark eyes and
exquisite features, and from the moment of
her birth, little Esther was an isolated be
ing, unloved and uncared for. While her
sisters, were dressed in silk, she wore cot
ton, and while they were fed upon dainty
food, she eat with the servants in the kitch
en. As she grew she gave her mother
fresh cause for dislike, for whereas her sis
ters were endowed with intellects of the
most mediocre order, and learned the sim
plest things with the greatest difficulty,
Esther's talents and quickness of percep
tion made hpr the wonder even of her sis- j
ters. Seeing this, that her twelve pets :
were likely to be thrown in the shade,
Madame Domeigue stopped Esther's les- j
sons entirely', and the most the poor child I
could obtain was permission to remain in
the room while her sisters were with their
teachers. By this means she was enabled
to learn a great deal, and as she afterwards
often said these were her only happy hours.
The father of the large family, though a
kind-hearted man, was exceedingly weak
and the slave of his wife. Besides, he was
much from home, and when in the house,
never dared to interfere in the regulations
made by his wife.
All these particulars the doctor heard
from the servants and the neighbors, and
the interest he felt for the child thus singu
larly placed under his care, was doubled,
and he determined to use every means to
save her life, lie accordingly watched
her himself night and day, and finally found
his efforts crowned with success. The
child yet got well.
I was just three weeks afier his visit to
the house ol Monsieur Domergue, that the
doctor returned, taking with him the little
girl who had bee'u almost miraciilouly sav
ed. When he reached the door some men
were just bringing out two cofliins to be
placed in a hearse which stood in the
street. The doctor and his protege ascend
ed the stair, entered the parlor and pro
ceeded to another room, without seeing
anybody or hearing any noise. But Es
ther in the greatest alarm pushed open the
door that led the way to the room where
she and her twelve sisters had slept toge
ther. The d)or was open, but four beds
alone occupied the r vm, and two of them
were empty. On the others lay two of
the fair h aired twins, and by their side
stood Madame Domergue looking at them
as if siupified. Esther, with an undefined
dread of something frightful, rushed up to
her in ither and threw her arms around
her. Hut as soon as Madame Domergue
saw her she threw her from her, then
seized her and would have torn her to pie
ces if the doctor had not snatched her from
her grasp. As it was, the poor child's face
was all scratched and bloody, and she
fainted almost immediately.
"Why do you bring her here ?" cried
Madame Domergue. "She is the cause of
all my misfortune. There lif the only
lw. 1 have left. Take the little demon
away or I will kill her in spite of you !"
Almost frozen wilh horror, the doctor
answered not a word, but bore the insen
sible and bleedings child from the room,
out of the house, and placed her in a
carriage which he saw and stopped. He
ordered the coachman to drive to an ob
scure little street where lived, in the most
bumble manner, the doctor's venerable mo
ther. She received the unhappy girl, gave
her all necessary relief, and installed her
in a small room near her own.
It was as Madame Domergue had said ;
in three weeks ten of ber idolized daugh
ters bad fallen victims lo the terrific dis
ease, and (be day alter the doctor's second
visit the other two died, and were bur
ied like their sisters. A few days more,
and the mother herself followed, and when
the doctor, hearing of it, returned, be found
that house once bo noisy with young voi
ces, and full of the joy and pride of a large
family, silent as the tomb, occupied only
by a prematurely old man, left alone in the
world and prostrate with his grief. A few
months afterwards, M. Domergue died in
hopeless insanity.
Esther, brought tip under the motherly
care ofAIadame S iulie, budded into wom
anhood as lovely a young creature as could
possibly be seen. When in her eighteenth
year she became the wife ol the doctor,
who was now beginning to be known in the
world, and she made her appearance in the
saloons of Paris, and was for many years
the most admired woman of the time. She
became the mother of five children four
sons and one daughter whom she brought
up and educated to be an honor lo herself
and ornaments to the society in which they
lived. Dr. Sotiiie became in time one of
the physicians of the court of Louis XVI,
and when the political troubles began to
brerk out, he unfortunately wrote a pam
phlet in favor of the court, nnd thus became
a marked man. In llin fall of 17'J'2, at
three o'clock one morning, the police for
cibly entered Dr. Soiilie'i house, dragged
biin nnd his two eldest sons from their beds,
ami in spite of the prayers and entreaties
of the poor wife and mother, carried them
off. It was nearly a weik before Madame
Soulie could hear any news of her loved
one, and then, they had already been
dead four days the guillotine bad done
its work for them. Madame Soulie clasp
ed her three remaining children in her
arms, two boys of seventeen and eighteen,
and a girl of fifteen years of age. But as
she strained them to her in the agony of
her grief fresh trouble was preparing for
her. Her sons swore within themselves to
revenge the murder of their father ami bro
thers. It would take loo long to narrate
all the circumstances which followed; but
these two young men placed themselves at
the head of a conspiracy against the govern
ment, and one year precisely from the day
on which she had learned the death of her
husband and two eldest sons, Madame Sou
lie received a' short note, as follows :
Cokcicrcerie, Thursday noon.
Mother, dear Mother We have con
spired against the government we have
been betrayed and are lo die to-morrow.
Bear it bravely, mother, we die for our fa
ther and our brothers.
IIenuiet Victor.
What words can describe the despair of
that poor mother! At first she prayed God
to take her life or her reason. Put a ray
of hope dawned upon her. She tui-jht,
perhaps, save her boys ; the tribunal which
had condemned them could hot be deaf to
a mother's prayer a mother's despair.
Put alas! Madame Soulie little knew the
men upon whose compassion she counted.
In vain she supplicated, in vain the pray
ed ; they ended by lefu.-ing to listen to her
any longer. She did all that could possibly
be done lo save her boys from death ; she
even, after the example of Madame L'ha
lais, tried lo bribe the executioners. Put
they accepted her money and then betray
ed her. Finding all her efforts useless, she
tried to resign herself, and determined as
she could not obtain her ions' lives, at least
to get permission to aid them to die. This
was wilh great difficulty granted her, but
at last she received it, and a couple of
hours before the execution was- to take
place, she presented herself before her un
happy boys. Then all the grandeur of In r
soul, the devotion, the resignation" which
was so remarkable in her after life, showed
itself. No useless tears, no reproaches, no
lamenting. One short burst of agony,
which tho sight of the manacled limbs of
her children forced from her in spite of
herself, and she was done with this world.
Every moment was precious. God, and
the eternity into which these two boys
were so soon to enter, formed the sole sub
ject of the conversation between the mo
ther and her children, until the jailor came
to announce that the moment had arrived
to say Iheir last prayers. Madame Soulie
stood by while the chains were knocked
off ; she knelt and prayed with the priest,
who had been sent to accompany them to
the scaffold; and then she took an arm of
each of her beloved boys and left the prison
with them.
The public place was crowded with peo
ple. They could nut help pitying those
.tvo handsome youths about to be executed;
but tears ran down the hardest cheeks at
the sight of'that noble mother still in mourn
ing for her husband and two eldest chil
dren, and niw accompanying her two re
maining sons to death, she a c-nded the
scaffold with them, embraced them tender
ly, offered up a short piaver with them,
and then allowed herself to be led away by
a friend. Put she was net out of hearing
when the shouts of the multitude announ
ced to her that all was over.
Well, in 05 she was herself condemned
to death on the charge of concealing her
brother-in-law, a political prisoner who
had escaped from prison. A second time
she mounted the scaffold, and was prepar
ing to die, when an order came for her re
lease. She then retired to a little farm she
owned near Blois, and soon after married
her daughter to a man every way worthy
of her. But misfortune was to be her lot
through life. Her only child that fate had
left her to love and cherish, died in child"
birth, eleven months after ber marriage.
It was then that Madame Soulie turned
her eyes towards the cloister. After con
siderable delay she was received into the
Ursline Convent of Neveres, and in 1823,
made Lady Abbess, which place she held
until her death. Her last moments were
soothed by the presence of those upon
whom she had conferred her benefits and
charities, and she died as calmly as an in
fant falling lo sleep, her lips sealed to the
crucifix, and her eyes turned to that hea
ven to which certainly, if afflictions, accord
the right to enter, she had won.
TIIK KERTl'CKY FOttGER.
It is related of that unfortunate, man Mar.
tin Brown who was once a prominent mem
ber of the Kentucky Legislature, but was con
fined in tho Penitentiary for forgery that
when he first Bottled in Texas, the inhabi
tants were determined to drive him out of
Austin's Settlement of San Felippn, because
he had been a convict. Austin had forbid
den such persons lo settle on his ground, and
colonial law passed by him was strict in pro
hibiting an asylum lo refugees and all per
sons rendered infamous by crimes of whatev
er description they may be a law which
Ihe father of Texas always enforced with the
utmost rigor. Hence, as soon an the settlers
informed the Geneial of this new case, he
immediulely sent an order warning Brown lo
decamp w ithin three days, on pain of sum
nary punishment.
The mcssensier was William S , Alls"
tin's private Secretary, a young man of culti
vated intellect, n noble heart, and generous
lo a fatill. lb? anivnd at the Green Heart
Grove, the residence of Brown nnd his fami
ly, one sutnmei's noon, and found the family
circle funned n round their frugal table. It
w as the dining hour.
S forthw ith delivered Austin's wrillen
order, w hich Biowu glanced over, and then
said monrnfully.
"Tell Gen. Austin that I shall never move
from this ppot until I move into my grave.
It is true that I committed a great crime in
my native State, but I also suffered the se
vere penally of the laws; and then with my
dear wife nnd children, who' still love me, I
stoleaway from tho eyes of society, which I
no longer wish to serve or injure, lo live in
quiet and die in pence. I nm ready and wil
ling to die; but on my family's account I
cannot and will not leuve this spot."
His wife and daughter implored him to
change his resolution. They avowed their
willingness again lo undergo the toils and
privations of emigration, and if necessary
prepare for a now home in tho wilderness.
But prayers and entreaties were alike in vain.
To every argument Martin Brown gave the
same answer in a calm and sad voice,
"I chose my place of burial ihe first day
I set my eyes on my litlle grove, and I shall
not now change my mind.
S relumed, deeply smitten with the
scene he had witnessed, and related to Gen.
Austin the sinunlar slate of facts, and inter
ceded urgently for n relaxation of the law
which rested in the discretion of the colonial
chief.
"Yon have suffered yourself to be smitten
by the beautiful l'.nmia," raid Austin, with
a smile.
S !iied to look indignant, which
efforts merely resulted in n burning blush.
,:l will 20 und see Martin myself," added
the General, "but lie will have to make
nut a strong case to alter my determina
tion."
When Austin arrived in the evening at his
destination, the family of the grove were
almost distracted with grief. Brown's coun
tenance alone wore its usual mask of tran
quility. His story, as told to Gen. Austin,
was simple as it was brief.
"It is true," he said, "I was in Ihe Peniten
tiary of Kentucky : but I was in the Legisla
ture before I was in the Slate Prison, and
while a member of the Senate opposed with
all my rniht the manufacture of so many
Banks. Those Banks soon nfter bppgared
thousands, among them me and my family.
I was then tempted, in order to save my
family, to pprpetrate a forgery, or to do that
on a small scale w nicn the Male aim Hanks
had so long been doing on a large one. I
paid the forfeit for my crime. While the
grand swindlers rolled in affluence, 1 pined
alone in a lelou's dungeon. Having served
out my time, resolved r.ever again to corn-
mil another w roup. I have but one desire,
to be let alone to die."
Gen. Austin did let the old man alone,
cancelled the order for his banishment, and
was ever after his steadfast fiiend.
S , the private Secretary, made
another visit to the Green Heart Grove, und
the beautiful Emma is now the wife of an
eminent lawyer, nnd a "bright particular
star" of fashion's sphere at Galveston.
Martin died at last in peace, and was bu
ried i.i bis beloved grove, (at his special re
quest.) in a most fantastic manner standing
ereel, in a full hunter's costume ; with his
hand raised towauls heaven, and his loaded
rifle on hi left shoulder.
Questions von College Studcnts. If 20
grains make a scruple, how many will make
a doubt 1
If 8 miles make a fur-long, boar many will
make a thort najtptd kal 1
If 7 days make one week, how many will
make one llrong 1
If three miles make a league, how many
will make a confederacy
If 54 feet make one Flemish ell, bow ma
ny feet w ill make an English Q1
If one hurnet can make a horse rnn, how
mnny hornets would it take to make a horse
fil I. S. 11. These letters are seen In Catho.
lio and Episcopal churches, and in the pray
er books of these seets. They are abrevia
tions of the Latin phrase Jnus Jlomimm
Suiealof, which signifies "Jesus, the Saviour
of Men." Some may ask why Ihe letter I
is used instead of J 1 Because formeily
there was no letter J in the Roman Alpha
bet ) then I was used where J now is. Ma.
ny of our "readers can probably remem
ber having seen the name Joum, spelled
Iohh.
THE GREY MARE IN THE OAR RET.
A CURIOUS ENGLISH LEGEND
In the porta! of Ihe ancient church at Re
culver, dedicated to the blessed Saint Mary,
hung, many centuries ago, a picture, the
portrait f a certain Dame Mary Maycote
and her two children, of whom this singular
story is related. The picture was covered
by a curtain which she worked with her
own hands. Her husband, Sir Cavalierro
Maycote, was, in tho ymr of grace 1140, a
rich burgomaster of the flourishing city of
Canterbury, though he resided latterly in tho
fait town of Reculver, living at the sign of
the Paroquet, in the Market place. During
his lifetime a fearful plague desolated the
south-west quarter of Kent, nnd among other I
ho fell sick ; though his wife, Mary, who
also fell sick of the pest, never recovered
but to all appearance died. After the ustnl
period had elapsed sbo was buried ill the
vaults of tho church at Reculver dedicated
to tho blessed Saint Alary. Shu was buried
as the custom then was, wi'h her jeweled
rings on her fingers, n:ul most oT her rich
ornaments on her per.mn. These tempted
tho cupidity of the sexton of the church.
He argnad with himself that they were of
no use to the corpse ; and he determined lo
possess them. Accordingly, he proceeded
in the dead of the night, to the vanlt where
she lay interred, and commenced the work
of sacrilegous spoliation. He first unscrewed
the coffin lid, he then removed it altogether,
and proceeded to tear away the shroud
which interposed between him and his prey.
But what was his horror to perceive the
corpse clasp her hands together ; and finally
to sit erect in the coffin. He was rooted to
the earth. The corpse made a movo as
though it would step from its narrow bed.
He Hod, shrieking, through the vaults. The
corpse followed, its long while shroud float
ing like a meleor in the dim light of the
lamp, which, in his hasie, he had forgotten
It was not until he had reached his own
door that he had sufficient courage to look
behind him ; and then, when he perceived
no trace of his pursuer, the excitement
which had sustained him so far subsided,
and he sank senseless to the earth.
In the meanwhile, Sir Cavalierro Maycote
who had slept scarcely a minute since the
death of his dear departed wife, was surpri
sed tiy the voice ot bis old man servant.
who rapped loudly at his chamber door, and
told him to awake and come forth, for lliat
bis mistress bad risen from tho dead, and
was then at the gate of the court-yard.
''Bah ! bah !" said Sir Cavalierro, pet
titdily ; :go thy ways, Jacob ; thou art mad
or tf nil k : or thou art snielv in a dream.
What thou sayest is impossible. I should as
soon believe my old irray mare had cot into
the garret, as that my wife was at the court
yard gate."
Trot, trot, trot, suddenly resounded high
over his head trot, trot, trot.
"What's that V asked he of Jacob.
"1 know not," replied Jacob, "an it be not
your old gray mare iu the garret, Sir Cava
lierro 1"
They descended in haste lo the court
yard, and looked up to ihe window of the
attic. Lo, and behuld ! there was, indeed,
the gray mare with her head poked out of
the window, gazing down with her great
eyes on her master and his man, and seem
ing to enjoy very much her exalted situation
and their surpiise and consternation at it.
Knock, knock, knock, went the rapper at the
street gale.
"It is my mistress !" exclaimed Jacob.
'It is my wife!" exclaimed Sir Cavalierro
in the same breath.
The door was quickly unfastened, and
I hero stood the mistress of the mansion, en
veloped in her shroud.
''Are you alive or dead 1" exclaimed Ihe
astonished husband.
"Alive, my dear, but very ci Id," murmur
ed the lady faintly, her teeth chattering all
the while, as those of one in a fever chill ;
"help me to my chamber."
He caught her in his arms and covered
her wilh kisses ; he then bore her lo her
chamber, and callej up the whole house to
welcome and as.isl her. She sulci ed a
little fiom fatiyue and lii-ht ; but in a few
days she was a well as could bj expected
under all ihe circumstances.
The thing began lo be the talk of Ihe
good town of Reculver ; and thousands
ducked lo see not alone the lady that was
rescued from the grave in so remaikable a
manner, but also the grey mare, who so
strangely contrived to get into the garret,
and so contribute to thai rescue.
This excellent lady lived long and happily
with her husband ; and, at her death, was
laid once more in ber old quiet resting,
place.
The grey mare, after remaining in the
garret for three days, was gol down by
means of ropes, pulleys, machinery, and on
inclined planes, quite safe and sound. The
interesting animal sometime survived her
mistress, and grew to be a general favorite
with the good people or Reculver . When
she died, her skin was stuffed and placed in
Ihe arsenal of the Roman station as a
curiosity.
The sexton went maj with the fright he
had sustained j and in a short lime entered
I bat bore' from whence be had so oniuten.
lionally recovered the wife of the rich
burgomaster.
Mrs. Partington says if the Maine Liquor
Law passes, she will drink ecanphent for
spite.
BtSSET, THE ANIMAL TElCIIER.
Few individuals have been presented vt
striking an instance of patience and eccoh
tricity as Bissef, the extraordinary teacher of
animals. He was a native of Perth, and afi
industrious shoemaker, until the notion of
leaching animals attracted his attention tn th
year 1759. Reading an account of a remark"
able horse shown at St. Germain, curiosity
led him lo experiment upon a horso and a
doe, which he bongot in London, and he sac
ceded in training these beyond all expects-1
tion. Two monkeys were the next pupils he
took in hand, one of which ho taught 19
dance and tumble on the rope, whilst ihe oth
er held a candle in one paw for bis compan
ion, and with Ihe other played Ihe barrel-or'
gan. These animals he also instructed to?
play several fanciful tricks : soch asdrinkinir
to tho company, riding and tumbling on a
horse s back, arid going through seveial reg
lar dances w - it h a dog.
All this, it may be said, was verv ridicit.
bus. No doubt it was; at the same time,
the icsults showed the power of culture in
iibdiiiti natural propensities. Bisset's teach'
ing of cats was a sianal instance'of this now.
er Having procured three kittens, he began
their education with his usual patience. He
at length taught these minature tiger to
strike tbeir paws tn such directions on llio
dulcimer as lo produce several regular tones,
having music books before them, executing at
the same time in different bevs or tones, first.
second, and third, by way of concert. Ha
afterwards was induced lo make a public ex
hibition of his animals, and the well-known
Lat s Opera, in which the rrerforrned. was
advertised in the Ilaymarkel Theatro. The
Horse, the clog, tho monkeys, and the cat
went through their several parts with uncom
mon applause to crowded houses; and in s
few days Bisset found himself possessed of
nearly a thousand pounds lo reward his inge
nuity and perseverance.
This success excited Bisset's desire to ex
lend his dominion over the animals, inclu
ding even the feathered kind. He procured
a young leveret, and reared it to beat several
marches on the drum wilh its hind legs, un
til it became a good stout hare. He taught
canaiy-birds, linnets and sparrows, to snell
the name cf any person in company, to dis
tinguish the hour and minute of time, and
perform many other surniisinff feals. He
trained six turkey-cocks to set tbronah a reg
ular contra-dance He also taught a turtlo to
fetch and carry like a dog.
THE DriESriES Of LITE.
Th'-re are some persons in the world, says
the Cincinnati Nonparul, who in order lo
screen themselves from iho charge of ex
travagance and folly, try to do it cutler tho
plea of decency. Those persons will com
mit many acts, which, if they had trite idea
of decency, they would hesitate lo perpe
trate. YYe think the following are few of
the many practices that coma under the cog-'
nomen of not decent j . .
It is not decent for a person to make a
show above bis or her means.
It is not decent for a person to run in debt'
when be does not intend lo pay.
It is not decent for persons to be alwaye
talking ill of tbeir neighbors
It is not decent to ascribe improper mo
tives to every one we come in eoniaot
with.
It is not decent for one to appropriate
others pecuniary means for their own gratifi
cation. It is not decent for young people to show
no respect to the aged.
It is not decent lo be praising yourself al
ways. It is not decent to keep yourself as a she
for others to look at.
It is not decent in persons going to pLc-.
amusement to incommode other in various
ways.
It is not decent to spend you money in
foolishness, when you have debts that ought
lo ie paid.
It U not decent to staive your famity by
spending you money for liquor.
Il is not decent to be sending clothes for
ihe young nfgroes of Africa, when you have)
so many ragged children nearer home.
It is not decent to say one tiling and mean
another.
It is not decent lo cheat your neighbor,
because you happen to have a little mor
knowledge that) he is possessed cf.
Il is not decent lo be borrowing papers all
the time, when you can get the American
once a week for sixpence.
Rhcbarb Ph. Strip the skin off the ten
der stalks of rhubard, and slice them thin.
Put it in deep plates lined with pie crost,
wilh a thick layer of sugar to each layer of
rhubard. A little grated lemon peel may
be added. Place over lb top a thick crust
press it tight round the edge of Ihe plate,
and perforata it wfih a fork, that the crust
may not burst while baking, and let the
joice of Ihe pie escape. Bake about one
hour in a slow oven. Rhubard pie must not
bo quick baked. Some stew rhubarb before)
making it into pies, but it is best without
stewing. m
A dabkie having been t California, the
speaks of his introduction lo fan Francisco r
"As soon as dey landed in da ribber, dar
moufs began to water to be on land, and
soon as dey waded to d shoro, dey did'nt
see any goold, but dey found such a large
supply of noffiu to eat, dat dar gums cracked
like baked clay in a brickyarn."
Tur. King of tSiam has given assurance
that he will net est tb missionaries.

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