Newspaper Page Text
EMI A 6 OUR 1IBERTY AND HAPPINESS AS A NATIOlt AE IN OUR OWTI KEEPING, IF THEY ARE EVER SACRIFICED IT WILL BE ON THE ALTAR OF PARTV SPIRIT, AT THE INSTANCE OF DESIGNING AMBITION AND BY CUR OW N IIAMS. VOLUME II. fPSILANTI, (31JCH.) .WEDNESDAY APRIL 30, 1845. NUMBER 14, 1 V) THK yPSlLAJSTI SENTINEL. I vUl be published ever .Wednesday, at Ypailarrti CHARLES WOODRUFF. 'ElftTOE AND PROPRIETOR. TERMS. To Subscribers who pay in advance 'To who delay till after "three months. 3,50 RATES OF ADVERTISING. For one square, (14 lines) one insertion $0,50 For every subsequent insertion 25 - A liberal deduction made to those who advertise by .he year. UTAH letters and communications must be address to the proprietor postage paid to receive attention. SZTNo paper will be discontinued until all arearages are paid. POETRY. From the Native American. A SOXG. Austere was my air, And haughty my brow. I suppressed, then, (he care That oppresses me now. 1 meet thee with boldntss. Undaunted, unmoved, "With an atpvct of coldness. As though wo ne'er loved. I saw thee display Exultation and pride, When I stooped to survey The one at thy side. Tho thus thou 'at dealt by me Thou hast love for me jel. Which I boldly defy thee To ever forget ! I saw thine eye languish, As on me 't would rest, I knew that keen anguish 1 Still tortured thy breast, . . A sadness came o'e thee, r Thy sigh betrayed paiu, -.. ; And the love thou erst bore me, ' - Was kindled again. . Cold was that meeting' It severed us twain - We met without greeting, "1 ho' not without pain We mournfully parted, With tears of regret. Half broken-hearted "Why was it we met? BT HX3RY I. W. ' ' . " c fV 'Jo the commencement of the American rcvolu tiWi there fctood, oothe b inks of she Delaware, a coUag inhabited by an old man, his wife, and an onlyjBon. Although age utterly incapacitated the .father from active duties, still he sacrificed his son on the altar of his country's freedom, and with blessings innumerable, Henry Harlan J left his home to enter upon a difficult and untried scene. " To his young and ardet.1 mind, which had pictur. -d all the imagined glories of a soldier's life, and the tonor of fighting for a country's freedom, the disappointment when the reality came to view, was a momentary gloom, but which was soon forgotten in the excitement of a skirmish with the J British, that took place soou alter bis arrival at the camp. After about a month.ihe company which had now been augmented by the arrival of recruits, was ordered to join the mailt body under Washing tan. at the Highlands. Here our hero expenen ced a different scene. It was not the remissness of duty that had characterised the first entrance as a soldier. 'Here every one was subjected to severe commands, and Washington himself saw that no order as to the regular duties of the soldier was disobeyed. Here in several re inor engage- itients, Harland soon gained a name among the! soldiers for courage and bravery : and for his conduct in one skirmish, he was applauded by "General Washington before the whole army. This was but a taste of glory, and the young eoldiei's ambition wasexcittdlo quaff the rich goblet of fame which was held out to him, and he eagerly Jesred for some enterpiisc of danger to present itself, that he might ehow to Washington that his commendations were not unmerited. An oppor tunity was not long wanting. Washington, be ing desirous of making an important move against the enemy, was anxious to se: d a trusty spy to fir d out the true state aud contemplated actions of the camp. To this he was further incited by a tesertr from 'he enemy, who swore on the pain t( his life, that he brought him tho correct watch Vord of the British ; but as Washington did not like to trust to his further information, he deter mined that now would be the best opportunity that Tnight, for some time, be offered to send bis spy to the British camp. From the numerous volunteers who eagerly stepped forward and desired to risk their lives for their country's freedom, Henry HarSand was chosen, and after communicating with the commander-in-chief, he left the Ameri can camp, and proceeded on his destined expedi tion. .. v He was dressed completely in the uniform of a British soldier, but his heart would uftan throb quickly, and now and then he would pause as the full force of his danger came across his miod. True, the thought that the British deserter might have given bim the wrong watchword once flash ed across him, but he did not think of returning. The danger was nothing compared to the service which he would do for his country and the glo ry that would aecrue from it. Thus he approach ed Jhe lino of sentinels that guarded the British canopy Stepping boldly up to the first one,- be whiskered uTHe Kmg!" but no sooner had the words passed bis lip?, than with a loud yell of ex ultation the sentry discharged his musket, which was quickly followed by the whofe line of senti nel'. Astonished, stupefied and bewildered, Harland was seized, and to his utter dismay he nead him self designated as the rebei by the crowd which now poured around him. Triumpantly he was borne before the commander t but the broken ex cli (nations which came to his ears, convinced him that the deserter wa only a stratagem to decoy an American to the British camp, for they vainly believed that threats and promises would extort from one every moment of Washington. With a proud, bi-.ld mein, Harland com fronted 4he . com manding officer ; but what was his surprise, when he was told that if he would betray the secrets of the American camp, be was at liberty to pursue j honor and glory with the king's soldiers, or to re- turn unmolested from whence he came; bur, on the rontran. if he refused, he should die the death he deseived. Ask me not." said he, while a flash of insulted pride lit upon his features, "ask me not for tn American soldier never fears death, and life itself would be odious to me after I had played the part of a traitor Surprise was the first feeling of the Briton; but the next moment rage was the predominant pas sion! "And thou shall die !" said he: "die as a rebel j dog should die. Ay!" he continued, when he saw that his words awoke no perceptible emotion in his listener ; Ma ! and by my sword you shall be hung amid the gaze of thousands, and in your death throes you shall be taunted as a felon by those with whom you and your comrades would vainly endeavor to cope! Ha! ha!" he said when he saw that the spirit of his captive writhed under his words, "you will be teady me thinks by to morrow's morn, to commence your journey to New York !" And calling to his eoldidrs, be S ordered him awav : but threatened the lives of his guards if he escaped. Having heard his threat, Harland knew it would be hopeless to attempt In escape; and he lay down, strongly manacled, and endeavored to gain some repose.a (though the thoughts that now rush ed through his mind, effectually forbade all thot's of sleep. Morning dawned, he was led down to the river and placed, strongly ironed, in a boat manned by six men, and sent down to N. York. Far different is the first view of the city fiom the noble Hudson now to what it was then, a few miserable fisherma.i's huts. Sir Henry Clinton's quarters were situated near the centre of the city, and thither Harland was taken. Fifteen minutes Sir Henry was alone with the superior of the sol diers, and then the captives fate was known to him; thd nex da), at sunrise he must die. Scrutinizing eyes were bent on him, but no emotion was visible ; and with a moody silence, he was led to the Provost prison. However dor mant his emotions without, he was left alone, and surveyed the dark and gloomy walls of his prison. Yet he looked calmly upon the near ap proach of death, and although it was hard to die ; hard, and he fel: that it was hard to leave bis be trothed Alice without one kiss ; still, he consider ed himself as one of a number who were to die for American liberty, and be determined that the sacrifice should be willingly made. Night drew on, and wnh it came gloomy thot's to the imprisoned soldier. Alone, in the dreary cell, with b t a few hours between him aud a dis graceful death Washington uncmitious of his i fato, and perhaps even then beleiVing in his dese'r- tion, no wondor his thoughts were gloomy and sad. Then the gibbet rose before him and he fan cied that he could see the multitude eagerly wait ing for his death, and hear their exultation as they witnessed his dying agonies. He endeavored to shut out his thought, but a new vision rose before him Alice, hearing of his death, and dying of broken heart, wrung tears from him whrch no torture could have brought forth. And thus pas sed the night ; and now the first gray tints that heralded the approach of day, were visible thro' the grated windows of his cell. Although the night had been one of anguish to bim, still the dawn seemed hastened on before its time, and the east now appeared to brighten more rapidly than it had ever done before. The door opened and stern voice told him that five moments more of life were all that were al lotted him and at that moment the roll of the dram was heard to prepare for the execution. He knelt down and fervently poured forth his soul to the Searcher of all hearts, and asked help to support him in this his trial. Sudenly, a quick sharp cracV of a musket was heard, and then the hum of the impatient Crowd was suddenly hushed, as the drum beat forth to arms; then came a mighty rush, as the multitude swept over the pavement, past the building, shouting they come they come '." He looked out the crowd seemed borne by one com mon impulse toward the north end of the city. He waited. Hours passed on, and the roll of the drum, and the frequent discharge of musketry at the other part of the city, told that the excitement was in that quarter, Still he was left in suspense till near night, when the same one who bad told him of the near ap proach of his doom in the morning, came with the intelligence that bis execution was deferred till the following satirise.' All the reasons that imag ination could conjure up, were construed as the right cause of this interruption, but were soon set aside as utterly futile. And now night bad set in, and be determined to use some method to effect his escape. He bad observed in the day time that the removal of a large stone might be effected, and he sat about the task by scraping off the cement which held it fast. Suddenly he paused it could not bo his own fancy, suiely there was some one at work without upon the very same stone. With increased vigor he resumed his labor; but, being possessed of the advantage of tools, his out side helper made the most progress, and consider ing the amount of labor to bo accomplished, it was not long ere the stono was removed. A human head now appeared at the tperture, and in a low voice said N Hist, Harland, hist! Ort your life make no noise ! Escape now tj your friend !" With the utmost caution and some difficulty, Harland crawled through jjie opening, and the clock of St. Paul's struck midnight as he was re leased from the few remaining shackles which were on him and ready for flight. His comrades, for there were four of his assistants, gave him a sword and two pistols, and silently they took their way toward the north wharf. They gained their boat without interruption, but Harland could hardly believe in the reality of his escape till he commen ced rowing up the Hudson. Now, tell me all," said he, after they had pro ceeded but short distance. And after a momenta ry pause, one of his companions began. Well, then, notwithstanding all the confidence that Washington placed in you, he was anxious, and this anxiety was increased by the ttrange be havior of the pretended British deserter. After your departure, he was twice caught in the at tempt to escape, and this confirmed a suspicion of Washington that he was not what he pretended to be Ordering a strict watch to be kept over him, he waited anxiously for your return; but when the morning dawned, and the day wore on without your appearance, he gave orders that the deserter should be shot, and sent us to N Y. to aid you; for Wathington conjectured that your captor would not take vengeance iu!o his own hands while his supeiiur was as near as Sir Henry Clinton was. Accordingly, wtih a stratagem to effect our entran ce into the city, we departed. When in sight of the city, we quickened our rowing, shouting out God save the King !' and 'the rebels,-lhe rebels.' This soon attracted attention to us, and rowing we lauded with terrible story of the defael and mas sacre of the British by Washington, how that we were all escaped, and how that Washington would soon, and perhaps already was on his march to the city. Our British dress, torn and bloody, gave somewhat of plausibity to our story, and the senti nel discharged his musket in the air, which, thank God; was in time to hinder your execution. By dint of some careless inquiry, we found out the cell in which jou were confied, before the crowd be gin to pour around us. After having been teased by Sir Henry Clinton's inquiries for hours we slunk away till night, when we commenced our labors for you assistance, with what success you are al ready acquaninted. The company now bent themselves to their oars, and morning had not long dawned when Henry Harland related his adventures to Washington. Through the long end varied struggle that fol lowed, Henry Harland bore a conspicuous part; In the lime when the American cause was at its lowest ebb, and most predicted a speedy termina. tion to the contest by the triumph of the Enlish arms, his heart never lost its confidence, his sword was uever sheathed till his country was free, and he was at liberty to wed hit Alice and happiness. American reader, Henry Harland is but anoth er name for one of your country's Hero's. From the Nero-York Evening Pott. mesmerism. Some time since, we extracted from a Georgia newspaper, u brief account of an ooeration ner. formed upon a Mrs. Clark, while in the mesmeric steep. A more authentic and minute description of this operation appears in the last number of the Southern Medical and Surgical Journal, written by Vr. Li. A. Ducas, Piofessor of physiology in the iUedical College of Georgia, who performed the operation in the presence of several eminent physicians. This operation, it will be seen, was a complete extirpation of the mamma of the pa tient: On the 3d of January, 1845, Mrs. Clarlr,(wife of Jesse Clark, of Columbia Co., Georgia,) came to this city, for the purpose of getting me to re move a schirrous tumor of her right mamma, which had ben gradually increasing for the last three years, and which had now attained the size of a turkey's egg. The tumor had never caused any pain of consequence, was not adherent to tho 6kinf not did it implicate any of the auxiliary glands. Mrs. C. is about 47 years of age, ias never borne a child, and her health, though by no means robust pretty good, and had not been im paired by the evolution of the tumor. The oper ation havir.g been dertermined upon for the fol lowing day. Mrs C. remarked to me that she had been advised by ilr. Kenrick to be mesmer ised, but as she knew nothing about it. she would like to have my advice, aud would abide by it, to which I replied that there were several well au thenticated cases on record, in which surgical operations had been performed, under mesmeric influence, without the consciousness of the patient, that 1 would be happy to test the subject in her case, and that I would endeavor to mesmerise her, instead of operating as had been proposed, on the day following. -. On the 4th January, at 11 o'clock, A. M. I called on Mrs. C. and was informed that on the preceding evening she had been put to sleep by Mr. B. F. Kenrick (at whose house she resided.) I then mesmerized her myself, and induced sleep in about fifteen minutes. ; Finding my patient sus ceptiblo to the mesmeric influence, and reflecting that it would not be convenient for the same per son to maintain this influence and to perform a sur gical operation at the same time, 1 requested Mr.' Kenrick to mesmerise Mrs. C. morning' aud eve ning, at stated hours, until insensibility cou'd be induced. - . This was regularly Cone, with gradually increa sing effect, when, ou the evening of the 6th Janu ary, sleep was induced in five minutes, aud The brick of a piu was attended with no inanffesfafiotr of pain. The sittings were continued, and the pa .:.,. :..-..:i.:t:... j..:t.. u.. w..ir i ...i. iiciit s iiioriiaiuuiiy uuiij itoibu uj iiijacu aim uiu- ers in vrrious ways. l. On the 9th of January, I invited Professor Ford to be present, and after pricking, and pinching strongly the patient without evidence of pain, the mejtneri.ier was requested to leave the room, when we exposed the breast, handled it roughly in examining the tumor, and readjusted the breast, without the consciousness of the patient. We then held to her nostrils a vial of strong spirits of Hartshorn, vhich she breathed freely for a minute or two, without the least indication of sensation, unless the fact that she swallowed once be regard as such: instead of a mere reflux action. Y3ii. the ilih of January, in presence of Professors Ford and Means, in addition to he usual tests, I made, with my pocket knife, an incision about two in ches in length, and half an inch in depth, into the patient's leg, without indication of sensation Fully satisfied now of our power to induce total insensibility, I determined to operate ou her the next day at noon, but carefully concealed any such design from the patient acd her friends, who did not expect its performance until several days later. On the 12th January, at twenty minutes past 11 A. M., C. was put to sleep in forty-flYd sec onds, without touch or pass of any kind, the facil ity with wnich the mesmeric influence was pro duced having gradually increased at each sitting At 12 o'clock, M., in presence of Professors Ford, Means, Garvin and Newton, and Dr. HaUee, the patient being in a profound sleep. 1 prepared her dress for tho operation, and requested my profes sional brethren to note her pulse, respiration, com plexion, countenance, dec, before, during, aud af ter the amputation, in order to detect any evidence of pain, or modifications. As Mr. Kenrick had never witnessed a surgical operation, he feared he might loose his self-posesston, and requested to be blindfolded, which was done. He now seated himself or, thejeouch nearthe patient end held her hand in his during the operation, this was ac complished by two eliptical incisions about eijht inches in lenght, comprehending between them the nipple and a considerable portion of skin, after which the integuir.ments were dissected up in the usual manner, and the entire mamma removed It weighed sixteen ounces. . The wound was then left open about three quarters of an hour, in order to secure the bleeding vessels, six of which were ligsted. The ordinary dressing was applied, and all appearances of blood removed, so that they might not be seen by the patient when so arous ed. The amount of hemorhage was rather more than isusual in such cases. During the operation the patient gave no indica tion whatever of sensibtlty, nor was any of the functions observed by those present, modified in the least degree. She remained in the same sound and quiet sleep as before the use of the knife. Subsequently the pectoral muscle, which bad been laid bare, was twice or thrice seen to contract when touched with the sponge in removing the blood. About fifteen minutes after the, operation, a tremulous action was perceived in tier lower jaw, wnicn was instantaneously arrested uy me application of the mesmerizer band to the pa. tient's bead This phenomenon recurred in about ten minutes after, and was again in the 'same man ner quiete'd. Professors Ford, who counted the pulse and respiration, states that before any pre paration was made for the operation, the pulse 96, and the respiration 64 per minute; that after mov ing the patient to arrange her dress for the opera tion, and just before this was commenced, the pulse was 98, and the respiration 17; that imme diately after the detachment of the breast the pulse was 96 respiration not counted; and that after the final adjustment of the bandages and dress, which required the patient to be raised and moved about, the pulse was 93, and the respiration 16. All present concur in stating that neither the placid countenance of the paMeut, nor the peculiar natural blush of the cheeks, experienced any change whatever during the whole process; that she con tinued in the same profound and quiet sleep, in which she was before noted, and that had they not been aware of what was being done, they would uot have suspected it from any indications furnished by the patient's Condition-. The patient having been permitted to sleep on about half an hour alter the final arrangement of her dr'eis, the mesmeriser made passes over the seat of the operation in order to lessen its sensibili ty, and aroused her in the usual manner, when she engagad in cheerful conversation With Mr, Ken rick and myself as though she bad no suspicion of what had taken place. 1 then introduced to her the gentlemen, who had placed themselves so as not to be seen bv her on awakening, and observed that I had invited them to come in during her sleep, in order that we might fully test her insensibility, preparatory to the operation. After a few min utes of conversation, 1 asked her when she would like to have the operation performed? To this replied the sooner the better, as she was anxious to get home. I added, Do you really think that I could remove your entire breast when asleep I without your knowledge? Answer. 'Why, Doc ter, the fact is, that from the varrious experiments I am told you hive made on nef really do not know what to think of if" Weir, Madam, sun- pose I vere to perf rned the operation one of these days, and to inform you of it w hen you would awake, would you believe me, and cou'd you control, your feelings, on finding ilt i: had been tloue?' 'Answer. ; ! could not npnose that you would deceive me', and of course 1 would be- very glad, but would iry not to give way to; my feelings." Have you perceived, since your ar rival here, or do you now perceive, any clung- in the ordinary sensations nf the t-ff'Tled breasi? 'No sif.it feels about as it has doue for some fum back." ,. . : : . . , i Vbout n quarter of an hour having clapted sine she awoke, I then told her that as we. luuud her in a proper stale for the operation, I had perform ed it, and that the bn usi was now removed. She expressed her ii ctt t'nl t said 1 Whs rr nit ly jo ling, as it was impossible that it could nave been done without her knowing it at the time, or ted ing anything of it now. She became 'convinced only on carrying her hand tothepart and finding the breast was no longer there. She remained up parently Cnfnoved for a few moments, when hi r friends, approaching to congratulate her, her free became flushed, and she went ' unaffectedly for some time. The wounded healed by th'e first In tention. " - v -' In laying the above narrative before the profeW- ion, it is due the cause of truth to state, that it has been submitted to all the physicians present at the operation, and that 1 am authorised by them to say that it accords in evey particular with their own observations so far as they ere present. I should also add that, having no other object in view than the establishment of the fact that a surgical oper ation may be performed under such circumstances withoutthe consciousness of the patient; I have designedly avoided any mention of the various and interesting mesmeric phenomena 'rrianffeste'd prior and subsequently to the ciperafion. These naVe been 'carefully aud judiciously recorded by Mr. Kenrick, whose well directed 'zeal has enabled him to collect a body of highly important facts from a field unfortunately exp'ored too exclusively in ignorance and charlatanism. From the London TuncK ' Tfrs. Caudle's Cut tain Lectures. LECTURE VI. -Mr. Caudle has lent an Acquaintance the Farnily Um brella. Mrs. Caudle Lecture the'reoa. 44 Ah! That's the third umbrella gone since Christinas. What were you to do'j Why him g6 home in the raiir, to be sore, i'm Very certain there was nothing about hirh that could spoil. Take cold, indeed 1 He doesn't look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he'd have better taken cold than take oar only umbrella. Do you hear it rain, Mr. Caud'e? 1 say, do yob hear it rain ? And, as I'm alive, if it isn't Saint S with in's day ! Do you hear it against the win dows ? Nonsense; you don't impose upon me. You cant be asleep with such a shower as that! " Do you hear it, 1 say? Oh, you dt hear it! Well, that's a pretty fl iod, I think, to lat for six weeks; aud no stirring all the time out of the house. Pooh ! dou'l think uie a fool, .Mr, Caudte, DoiiH insalt me. 'He return the umbrella ! Any body would think you were bom yesterday. As if a ny body evei did return an umbrella ! The re dd you hear it? Worse and worsr Cats and dogs, and for six weeks always six weeks and no umbrella ! 4 1 should like to know h6w ih'e children are to go to scnool to-morrow lhey snan i go through such weather, I'm determined. No; they shall stop at home aud never learn any thing the blessed creatures sooner than go and get wet.. Aud when they grow up, I wonder who iheyl have to thank for knowing uothing who, indeed, but their father l People who can't feel for their own children ought uever to be fathers. But I know why you leut the umbrella. Oh, yes ; 1 kuow very well. . I Was going out to tea at dear mother's to-morrow, you knew that; and and you did it on purpose. Don't tell me ; you hate me to go there, aud take eer.y mean advan tage to hinder; me". But don't you think it, Mr. Caudle. No, sir; if it comes dawn in buckets full, I'll go all the more. No : aud I wont have a cab! Where, you think the money's to come from? You've got nice high notions at that dub of yours ! A cab, indeed ! Cost me sixteen'peuce at least sixteeupeuce I two-and-eightpenca for there's back again! Cabs, indeed I should like to know who s to pay for era? leant pay 'em ; and I'm sure you can'i, if you go nn as you do; throwing away your property, and beggaring yout children, buying umbrellas ! , - . ,.- 4,Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle ? I say, do vou hear it ? But 1 don't care, FU go to moth ers t -morro ; I will ; and what's more. I'll walk every step of the way, and you know that will give mo my death. - Don't call mo a foolish wo man it s you that s the foolish . man. -You know I can't wear clog ; and with no umbrella, the wet's sure to givo me a cold it, always dofl. But what do you care for thai I . Nothing at all. I may be laid up for what you care, as I dure say I khall and a pretty doctor's bill there'll.-be. :.T hope there will It will teach you to lend your umbrellas again. 1 shouldn't wonder if I caught my death ; yes j and that's what you leut the um brella for. Of course! - .; - t "Nice c'otbes, I shall gel too,trapcsing through the water like this. My gnim and bonnet will bp spoilt quite. Needn't I wear 'm then? Indeed Mr. Caudle, I shall wear 'em. No. sir, I'm : not go ing out a dowdy to please you or any body eUei Gratious k';ows ! it isn't often that I stepover. the threshold ; indeed, I might as well be a slaV at once' better,! should say. But when I 0 ou',