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Eastern times. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1846-1857, October 21, 1852, Image 1

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A Journal of Political and General News—An Advocate of Equal Rights.
V0L- Vn-_BATH, MAINE, THURSDAY MOItNING, OCTOBER 21, 1852. NO. 18.
SUasr Hufcttirtro
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POL ITIC A L. j
The Two Candidates—A
Contrast.
Ignoring the principles of public policy for i
which they have heretofore contended, and 1
studiously avoiding any discussion of the ques
tions really in issue, the whig party are mak- j
ing a systematic effort to stake the result of the [
approaching election upon the military reputa- 1
lion of their candidate. And they are not con
tent to paint him as he is; but, to commend
him to the admiration of the country, they
clothe him with virtues which are foreign tu
liis nature, and give him credit for deeds of
valor which he never performed. The truth
of history is shamefully outraged, the well
earned reputation of other gallant men plun
dered of its brightest gems, and the achieve
ments of their genius and their valor appro
priated to one who is willing to strut in plumes
plucked from the illustrious dead, and delights
tn a glory of which their memory has been
robbed. The fame of Worth, of Duncan, of
Jesup, of McNeil, of Brown, and other brave
men, has been pillaged to deck the brow of
Winfield Scott with laurels which he does not
blush to wear. And to heighten the splendor
of his renown, his profligate partizans never
weary of depreciating the services and defam
ing the reputation of his competitor for the
presidency, as they have depreciated the ser
vices and defrauded the reputation of his rivals
in arms. From the whig press we hear as
much of the obscurity of Franklin Pierce as
we hear of the glory of Winfield Scott; and
while the one is painted as a hero endowed
with every virtue, and capable of any achieve
ment, the other is represented as destitute even [
of the qualities which compose the character!
of the most ordinary and commonplace individ- j
nal.
There is no need that we should correct the i
misrepresentations of the whig press in respect
to the character and qualifications of General
Scott and General Pierce, by giving a just es
timate of tbe merits of the two men. The
country will do ibis. No excess of extrava
gant and unmerited eulogy can convince the
American people that General Scott is any
thing more than a competent and successful
soldier, and no amount of misrepresentation
can disguise the radical and prominent defects
of his character Neither is it within the pow
er of the defamer to depreciate those solid and j
substantial qualities, that stern integrity, that |
keen sagacity, that profound wisdom, that res- j
olute courage, that cautious prudence, and that j
ardent patriotism, of which the character of
General Pierce is and has ever been, the bril
liant illustration. The conduct of the two
men since they have been before the people
for the highest office in their gift gives a just
conception of their character, and satisfies ev
ery impartial mind that in intrinsic worth, and
in all the elements ol true greatness, Franklin
Pierce as far excels Winfield Scott as Win- !
field Scott surpasses him in the trappings and !
tinsel of a meretricious glory.
The whig candidate procured the nomina- j
lion of his party by intrigue and personal so- ;
licitation. Never doubting in his excessive j
vanity that he was fully equal to all the du
ties and responsibilities of the chief magistracy
of this vast country, he began years ago to
display that ambition to be President which
has impelled him to so many ridiculous exhi- |
bitions, and to such unworthy arts. Defer- '
ence to the superior claims of others never re
strained him in his intrigues fur the nomination
ofliis parly; nor did principle interpose any
obstacle between him and the object of his im
patient ambition. After years of tortuous in
trigue and clamorous solicitation, he was made
a candidate for the presidency by a traitorous
faction, to whose fanatic passions he pandered,
and who effected his nomination by trampling
in the dust the best and purest men of his par
ty. And at last he. had to purchase the nomi
nation of the Baltimore Convention by a prom
ise which he has not yet redeemed. He
could not stand aloof from the contentions of
the convention, and he degraded the dignity of
his position by descending to an humble though
insecure appeal for the support of the South.—
And now, since he is a candidate for the presi
dency, his conduct is, if possible, still more un
worthy and reprehensible. On pretence of the
public service, he projected, and is now prose
cuting, an electioneering campaign for the
presidency of the United States 1 He travels
about to enlist the sympathy of the people by
exhibiting his wounds, and to excite their ad
miration by pompous allusions to his own
achievements. For the vote of the ‘foreign
er,’ to whom but a few years ago be would
have denied the rights and franchises of free- |
men, he now supplicates by imitating the low !
arts and fawning hypocrisy of the pot-house
politician. Theory of the Irishman once fired j
him with indignation ; but now he loves to
hear the ‘rich brogue’ when it shouts his j
praise. He generously divides his heart i
among the eager partizans who applaud the
harangues of the‘war-worn soldier. Such is j
the conduct of the whig candidate for the pres- ;
idency—conduct which tarnishes the lustre of
his renown, degrades thecharacter uf the coun
try, and brings discredit upon the exalted posi
tion to which he aspires. To him, however,
who cites it in reproach of our country, it may
be replied, that as such a spectacle was never
witnessed before, so the feeling which it ex
cites among all respectable men is a sufficient
guarantee that jsawill never be witnessed again.
The modest and dignified demeanor of
Franklin Pierce, is worthy of the man, of the
great party he represents, and of the high of
fice for which he is proposed. So far from
seeking a nomination for the presidency, he
studiously discuuntenanced every friendly effort
to attain the honor for him ; and when it was
unexpectedly and spontaneously bestowed upon
him, he accepted it with a candid confession of
his own unworthiness, and a declaration of re
liance upon a superior wisdom. Since his
nomination he has continued in the prosecution
of his private pursuits, carefully avoiding all
public displays and every semblance of a wish
to influence the choice of his countrymen.—
Should they call him from his retirement to
the head of the government, he would bring to
their service no unchaste ambition, and no sel
fish purpose, but a heart anxious only for the
glory of his country, and hands unstained by a
participation in arts and intrigues unworthy of
a candidate for the most exalted position on
earth.
Is it imagined that <he people can be insen
sible to this striking contrast ? Is it thought
that they can regard with favor, or even with
indifference, the extraordinary conduct of the
w hig candidate, who prostitutes his position as
commander-in-chief of the army to the lowest
party purposes, and traverses the country, like
a mendicant, begging the peoplo to elect him
President? And, on the contrary, does any
body suppose that the people are incapable of
appreciating the lofty demeanor, the combined
dignity and delicacy of him, who, as he ]
scorned to intrigue for the nomination, now
scorns to intrigue for the election ?— Washing- '
ton Union.
More Whig Testimony.
S. E. Cones, Esq., of Portsmouth, a retired
merchant, and a gentleman well known in the
literary and scientific world, whose political j
predilections have always been with the Whig
party, publishes in the Boston Post, a review
of Hawthorne’s life of Pierce. As the Post;
well says : ‘While the vulgar and depraved
are so busy in their assaults upon the character
and fame of the Democratic nominee for the
Presidency, it is pleasant to observe that no
gentleman of either political party, who has
enjoyed Gen. Pierce's acquaintance and confi
dence at any period of his life, has given coun
tenance to these mendacious attacks. The in
tercourse between Mr. Cones and Gen. Pierce
commenced in 1812, w hile the latter was a
student at law in the office of the late Judge
Woodbury. It soon ripened into friendship,
which, although differing widely in political
Dpinions anil action, and both at times taking
prominent parts on opposite sides, has never
been interrupted. It is due to the honorable,
high-toned gentlemen of the whig party, and
to the unalmlitionized conductors of the whig
press generally in New England, that we ac
knowledge a degree of fairness and candor,
which we shall ever be happy to reciprocate.
Ii is not from such men as Bei.j. F. Farley,
Ichabud Bartlett, James Bell, Joel Eastman,
Ira Perley, George Y. Sawyer, Daniel Abbot,
E. D. Sanborn, or any gentleman of the whig
parly of their class, that you hear disparaging
remarks of the character, qualities and talents
of Franklin Pierce.’
We give the concluding portion of Mr. ;
Uoues’ notice. After testifying to the truth- |
fulness, candor and ability with which Mr. [
Hawthorne has accomplished his work, the
reviewer says:
Franklin Pierce is presented as a distinct
nan, not as one of the well-known class of
politicians. The reader will know the candi
iale characteristically. He will have before
aim a man of good sense, of sound political sa- ■
jaeitv, aide and ready to attend to Ins doty in
its most minute details—a man of prompt de
cision, self-confident—one who, from early
life, has always swayed the opinions and influ
enced the characters of his associates.
Mr. Hawthorne has an appreciation of, and
ihe power of depicting the underlying trails of
character, to w hich General Pierce is indebted
for his prominent position. It is to the candi
date’s warm and generous sympathies that he
owes his nomination. There is no one ac
quainted with Gen. Pierce who questions his
sound sense and political wisdom, hut while
there are many men of good talents and politi
cal experience, there are indeed few w ho unite
with these qualifications for the office of Presi
dent the qualities which call out in so high a
degree, personal regard, and warm, heartfelt
attachment. It iias been said that the secret of
the political success of Gen. Pierce is his gen
tlemanly manners and courteous demeanor.—
The reason lies deeper than this. His man
ners are captivating because lie is of warm
sympathies. He is interested in 1 he happi
ness of those around biin. This gives the
manner. It is nothing put on for eflect. It is
the ‘visible’ of something far more valuable
than the politeness itself.
Gen. Pierce js not a gentleman for the par
lor only, or from the knowledge of etiquette,
and from its use, to buy golden opinions. Ills
suavity of maimer is a part of the man, and is
as apparent in the free intercourse of private
life as when the eye of the world rests upon
him. It is not only as the incumbent of the
chair of stale that he would he dignified and
courteous, but in the sick chamber of a friend,
in the time of affliction and trial, the sufferer
would feel that there were lovely trails of
character, of which the outward courtesy was
but the expression. We speak from experi
ence.
The writer of this notice is not a political
parlizan. He docs not discuss the question
of poiiucal opinions. He knows ilmt Gen.
Pitrce has been successful in all bis public
trusls; he knows of bis industry nod talents
as a lawyer; of bis activity, firmness and
courage as a soldier; of bis integrity as a
man; and believes that bis administration
will be honorable to bigiself and useful to
bis country. II is opinions area matter of
record ; and every one will judge of them
according to bis political ami mental bias.—
Bui it is right and fitting tor the writer of
ibis nonce to bear his testimony in the puri
ty of character, lo the high moral traits, io
the nobleness of disposition, winch make
the ho»l ol Gen. Pieice’s Iriends so highly
gratified by bis iioniimition, and so ardently
liopelul oi his election. S. E. C,
To the Fishermen of Maine.
The British Government have proclaimed,
and enforced by rnen-ol-war, a novel cun- j
si ruction of a irualy over tinny yeais old,
to which ihe American Government, with
unsurpassed cowaidice, have tamely sub
miiteil.
Wiihout giving notice of their intentions,
the British Government have robbed our in
dustrious fishermen oI scores of vessels, nnd
of lens of thousands of dollars worth of
property, ihus throwing i„,o poverty hun
dreds of men, women and children.
Is ii not so, Fishermen of Maine? And
what have pur adminisiraiiun done to pro
tect your interests, in this inaner? What
should they have done ?
The answer is plain to hotli questions_
They have done nothing. Your property has
been allowed to be taken ami condemned by
some peiiy court, and the avails have gone
into the pockets of British officials. True,
they did send one naval vessel to that sta
tion. It remained for three weeks—ihe of
ficers were feasted by the British aristocracy
—and ihe fishing craft were seized from un
d«r the very gnns of our man-of-war.
What should have been dene ? What
would old Hickory have done —or James K.
Polk or any democratic administration P—
i hey would have sent at once an ample na
val force; they would have re-taken the cap
tured vessels; and they would have protect
ed at the cannon’s mouth, the just rights of
the fishermen. They would have said to
England, at once, ‘You must stop this pirat
ical business, treaty or no treatv, or we will
give you a new edition of the convincing ar
guments of 1775 and 1812. If you wish to
discuss that treaty, discuss—we are ready
for you—hut in the meantime don’t you lay
a finger upon an American vessel.’
But, say the wliigs, this might involve us
in war with England. No fear of that.—
The British Government could not be kicked
into a fight with (his country. Experience
has taught them better. And had a demo
cratic administration been ill power, this out
rage would never have happened. They
trusted to the compliant disposition of whig
gerv for immunity, and they trusted uot in
vain.
We are opposed to war, when pence can
be maintained on honorable terms—hut not
otherwise. Better have another set-to with
England, than allow her to insult our flag,
mid rob our citizens. In truth, prompt cotir
nge is the surest way to secure peace.
Fishermen of Maine! tins wrong will
continue just so long as whiggery is in pow
er. The Past guarantees no redress ; on
liie contrary, the Future would be much
more ahundutii in the harvest of wrong do
ing. Your only security lies in electing a
man like Franklin Tierce, whose whole
interest is with the laboring classes, and
whose bold and decisive character has justly
won lor him the title of Young Hickory.—
Argus.
Billy Bowlegs in New York.
Oil Saturday morning, previous 10 his de
parture from New York lor Savannah, Billy,
the great Seminole chief visited the City
Hall, and was introduced to the mayor, and
in reply to a question from him, said, with
such ail air satisfaction, ‘I whipped old Tay
lor,' that everbody laughed.
Mayor —If you could only whip old Pierce
for us in the same way
Billy, interrupting—I don't want to whip
Pierce—General Scon you mean. I whipped
him before. (Renewed laughter.)
Billy seeming quite delighted with the pic
tures, and on being brought opposite to that
ol fhe late General Taylor, be gazed at it si
lently, and on being asked il he knew ihe
old lellow, said : ‘Yes, 1 knew the old fellow
very well. I licked hint, too.' (Roars of
laughter.) Billy made this observation with
evident satisfaction, and accompanied it with
a nearly laugh, and immediately afier lie
preceded to give an account of the battle,
but the English language failed him in ex
pressing his ideas. He was then brought to
see the likeness of General Scott, at tli^
other end of the room, and on being asked if
he knew him, he replied, ‘Yes, I ought to
know him. I licked him.' (Laughter. He
was next shown the tine portrait ot Washing
ton, and was told thru he was ‘die big fath
er.* He fixt-d his eyes upon it for some mo
ments, and appeared buried in profound
revery. He then asked how many years
was it since he went to the Great Spirit, and
how many presidents had succeeded Wash
ington.
Billy, in taking leave of his New York
friends at the wharf, showed a good deal of
feeling, and said, in shaking hands with
some, *Bless you ! thank you ! thank !’
Am Honest Man's Opinion. The Hop
kinsville Post says : A very intelligent
Cenilemnn, of ihe name of Young, from
Huntsville, Ala., passed through our city on
Tuesday evening last, oil his way from Bos
ton home. The whig gentlemen standing
hv,asked him his opinion in regard to the
Presidential election. He replied: ‘Gentle
men, since the nomination I have traveled
through twenty-five of ihe States of the Un
ion, and the conclusion I have formed has
been arrived at with great reluctance. 1 al
ways have been and still am a whig, and
shall vote for Scott. But, gentlemen, Pierce
will certainly he elected hy an overwhelm
ing majority. In all my travels I have not
met with a single democrat who will not
voie for Pierre. The wings are divided ev
erywhere. 1 have talked politics wherever I
found people disposed to converse on politi
cal subjects, and I am firmly convinced that
Gen. Scott has not the slightest chance of
being elected.’
Scott’s Lots for Foreigners. — It is pecu
liarly refreshing at this time, when Gen. Scott
and his whippers in are making such protesta
tions of love for foreigners, to iind the folio x
ing expression of his real sentiments :
“YOU ARE INSTRUCTED NOT TO
ENLIST FOREIGNERS. FOR THE RAT
TALION OF ST. PETRUCIA HAS
TAUGHT US THAT FOREIGNERS
CANNOT BE TRUSTED.”— Gen. Scott's
Instructions to liis Recruiting Officers during
the Mexican War.
Tliis was before be bad cooled from that
“indignation” with which he wns “fired” up
when lie sat “in my parlor” in the Asior
House. — Trenton True American.
Democrats ok Maine!—Tiie whigs are
boas ling iliat they will carry the suite for
Scott through your supineness. They say
you are so roiif'ideot of your power that you
neglect the means usually employed to bring
out your strength, while your opponents are
making the most sireiumus efforts 10 con
quer you by surprise. We know von only
want a hint ol this to be on your guard, and
to secure such a ilemonstniitoo in favor of
the national democratic ticket as will leave
the Srmtites not an inch of ground to stand
on. ‘Up and at ’em !’—Boston Post.
Capital Illustration.—Senator Knsk,
referring to the fact that any proposition
brought before Congress now. is sure to pro
duce a vast number of political speeches and
a large amount of political capital, said, that
the fact called to tiis mind an incident. He
was present on one occasion at an Indian
• talk,’ when a man drove op with a barrel of
whiskey ; an old Indian sitting by, fixed bis
eye on the barrel, and after looking earnestly
fur some time, asked Mr. R. if he knew what
was in the barrel, lie said it was whiskey
be presumed. ‘No,’ said the Indian, 'there
are about a thousand songs and fifty fights in
that barrel!'
Rt. Rev. the Bishop (Burgess) of Maine,
in bis address before ihe late Convention ol
that Diocese, states the following laet:—'On
Thursday, (he 9th of Ociober, 1 laid the cor
ner stone of Grace Church, Bath, with ap
propriate solemnities and an address. The
past year has brought 10 light the fact that
almost within sight of that spot, the colony
under Popliam, in 1007, actually built wiiliin
their fort a rude church ; and has also dis
closed the name of Richard Seymour, a
clergyman of the Church of England, who
accompanied that colony, and performed the
first religious worship ever known in New Eng
land. A singular interest was added to our
services by recollections like these.’
MISCELLANY.
“ Who Murdered Downie ?”
About the end of the eighteenth century,
whenever any student of Marischal College,
Aberdeen, incurred the displeasure of the hum
: bier citizens, he was assailed with the question
* who murdered Downie V Reply and rejoind
er generally brought on a collision between
j ‘ town and gown although the young gen
; tlernen were accused of what was chronologi
cally impossible. People have a right to be
angry at being stigmatized as murderers, when
their accusers have probability on their side ;
but the ‘ taking off' of Downie occurred when
the gownsmen, maligned, were in swaddling
clothes.
But there was a time, when to be branded
as an accomplice in the slaughter of Richard
Downie, made the blood run to the cheek of
many a youth, and sent him home to his books,
thoughtful and subdued. Downie was sacrist
or janitor at Marischal College. One of his
duties consisted in securing the gate by a cer
tain hour; previous to which all the students
had to assemble in the common hall, where a
Latin prayer was delivered by the principal.—
Whether in discharging this function, Downie
was more rigid than his predecessors in office,
or whether he became stricter in the perform
ance of it at one time than another, cannot now
be ascertained ; but there can be no doubt that
he closed the gate with austere punctuality.—
and that those who were not in the common
hall within a minute of the prescribed time
were shut out, and were afterwards reprimand
ed and fined by the principal and professors.—
The students became irritated at this strictness,
and took every petty means of annoying the
sacrist; he, in his turn applied the screw at
other points of academic routine, and a fierce
war soon began to rage between the collegians
and the humble functionary. Downie look
care that in all his proceedings he kept within
the strict letter of the law ; but his opponents
were not so careful, and the decisions of the
rulers were uniformly against them, and in
favor of Downie. Reprimands and fines hav
ing failed in producing due subordination, rus
tication, suspension, and even the extreme sen
tence of expulsion had to be put in force ; and
in the end, law and order prevailed. But a
secret and deadly grudge continued to be en
tertained against Downie. ^ arious schemes of
revenge were thought of.
Downie was in common with teachers and
taught, enjoying the leisure of the short New
\ear’s vacation—the pleasure no doubt being
greatly enhanced by the anuoya.'vcts to which
he had been subjected during the recent bick
erings—when, as he was one evening seated
with his family in his official residence at the
gate, a messenger informed him that a gentle
man at a neighboring hotel wished to speak
with him. Downie obeyed the summons, and
was ushered from one room to another, till at
length he found himself in a large apartment
hung in black, and lighted by a solitary candle.
After waiting for some time in this strange
place, about fifty figures, also dressed in black
and with black masks on their faces, presented
themselves. They arranged themselves in the
form of a court, and Downie, pale with terror,
was given to understand he was about to be put
on trial.
A judge took liis seat on the bench ; a clerk
and public prosecutor sat below ; a jury was
empannelled in front; and witnesses and spec
tators stood around. Downie at first set down
tile w hole affair as a joke ; hut the proceedings
were conducted with such gravity, that, in
spite of himself, he begun to believe in the
genuine mission of the awful tribunal. The
clerk read an indictment, charging him with
conspiring against the liberties of the students;
witnesses were examined indue form, tbe pub
lic prosecutor addressed tbe jury, and the judge
summed up.
' Gentlemen,’ said Downie, ‘ this joke has
been carried far enough—it is getting late,
and my wife and family will be getting
anxious about me. If I have been too strict
with you in time past, I am sorry for it —
and I assure you that I will take more care in
future.’
‘Gentlemen of the jury,’ said the judge, with
out paying the slightest attention to this appeal,
‘consider your verdict; and if you w ish to re
tire, to do so.’
1 he jury retired. During their absence the
most profound silence was observed ; and ex
cept renewing the solitary candle that burnt
beside the judge, there was not the slightest
movement.
The jury returned and recorded the verdict
of Guilty.
The judge solemnly assumed a huge black
cap, and addressed the prisoner :
* Richard Dow nie ! Tbe jury have unani
mously found you guilty of conspiring against
the just liberty and immunities of the students
of Marischal College, you have wantonly pro
voked and insulted those inoffensive lieges for
some months, and your punishment will assur
edly be condign. You must prepare for
death. In just fifteen minutes tbe awful sen
tence of the court will be carried into ef
fect.’
The judge placed his watch on the bench.—
A block, an axe, and a bag of sawdust were
I brought into the centre of the room. A figure
® I
more terrible than any that had yet appeared
came forward, and prepared to act the part of
doomster.
It was now past midnight; there was no
sound audible save the ominous ticking of the
judge's watch. Downie became more and
more alarmed.
‘ For mercy sake, gentlemen,’ said the ter
rified man, ‘ let me go home. 1 promise
I that you never again shall have cause for
j complaint.’
| ‘ Richard Downie,’ remarked the judge, ‘you
are vainly wasting the few moments that are
left you on earth. You are in the hands of
those who must have your life. No human
power can save you. Attempt to utter one
cry, and you are seized, and your doom com
pleted before you can utter another. Every
one here present has sworn a solemn oath nev
er .to reveal the proceeding* of this night; they
are known to none but ourselves; and when
the object for which we have met is accom
plished, we shall disperse unknown to any one.
Prepare, then, for death ; another five minutes
will be allowed, but no more.’
The unfortunate man in an agony of deadly
terror raved and shriked for mercy; but the
avengers paid no heed to his cries. His fever
ed, trembling lips, then moved as if in silent
prayer; for he felt that the brief space between
him and eternity was hut as a few more tick
ings of that ominous watch.
‘Now!’ exclaimed the judge.
Four persons stepped forward and seized
Downie, on whose features a cold clammy
sweat had burst forth. They bared his neck,
and made him kneel before the block.
‘ Strike!’ exclaimed the judge.
The executioner struck the axe on the floor;
an assistant on the opposite side lifted at the
same moment a wet towel, and stuck it across
the neck of the recumbent criminal. A loud
laugh announced that the joke had at last come
to an end.
Hut Downie responded not to the uproarous
merriment—they laughed again—but still he
moved not—they lifted him, and Downie was
dead.
h'right had killed him as effectually as if the
axe of a real headsman had severed iiis head
from his body.
it was a tragedy to all. The medical stu
dents tried to open a vein, but all was now
over; the conspirators had now to bethink
themselves of safety. They now in reality
swore an oath among themselves ; and the
affrighted young men, carrying their disguises
with them, left the body of Downie in the ho
tel. One of their number told the landlord that
their entertainment was not yet quite over, and
that they did not wish the individual that was
in the room to be disturbed for some hours.—
This was to give them all time to make their
escape.
Next morning the body was found. Judicial
inquiry was instituted, but no satisfactory re
sult could be arrived at. The corpse of poor
Downie exhibited no marks of violence in
ternal or external. The ill-will between him
and the students was known ; it was also
known that the students had hired apartments
in the hotel for a theatrical representation—
Downie was sent for by them ; but beyond this
nothing was known. No noise had been
heard, and no proof of murder could he ad
duced. Oftwo hundred students at the college,
who could point out the guilty or suspected
fifty ? Moreover, the students, scattered over
the city, and magistrate themselves had many
of their own families amongst the number, nnd
it was not desirable to go ii^*» the affiir loo
minutely. Downie's widow arid family were
provided for—and his slaughter remained a
mystery ; until, about fifteen years after its oc
currence, a gentleman on his death-bed dis
closed the whole particulars, and avowed him
self to have belonged to the obnoxious class of
students who murdured Downie.
Paper Hanging.
A recent number of Dickens’ Household
Words gives us llicse hints on paper-hang
ing :—
Many a fever has been caused by the horri
ble nuisance of corrupt size used in paper-hang
ing in bed-rooms. The nausea which the
sleeper is aware of on waking in the morning,
in such a case, should be a warning needing no
repetition. Down should come the whole pa
per at any cost or inconvenience; for it is an
evil which allows of no tampering. The care
less decorator will say that time will set all
aright—that the smell will go off—that airing
the room well in the day, and burning some
pungent thing or other at night, in the mean
lime, will do very well. It will not do very
well; for health and even life may be lost in the
interval. It is not worth while to have any
one’s stomach impaired for life, or one’s nerves
shattered, for the sake of the cost and trouble
of papering a room, or a whole house, if nec
essary. The smell is nut the grievance, but
the token of the grievance. The grievance is
animal putridity, with which we are shut up.
When this smell is perceptible in onr cham
bers, down should come the paper ; and the
wall behind should be scraped clear of every
particle yf its last covering. It is astonishing
that so lazy a practice as that of putting a new
paper over an old one should exist to the ex
tent it dues. Now and then an incident oc
•%
curs which shows the effect of such absord
carelessness. Not long ago a handsome house
in Loudon became intolerable to a succession of
residents, who could not endure a mysterious
bad smell which pervaded it when shut up from
the outer air. Consultations were held about
drains and all the particulars that could be
thought of, and all in vain. At last a clever
young man, who examined the house from lop
to bottom, fixed his suspicion on a certain
room, where he inserted a small piece of glass
in the wall. It was presently covered, and
that repeatedly, with a sort of putrid dew.—
The paper was torn down, and behind it was
found a mass of old papers, an inch thick, stuck
together with their layers of size, and exhibit
a spectacle which we will not sicken our read
ers by describing.
“The List shall be First.”
A week or two ago, four creditors started
from Boston, in the same train of cars, for the
purpose of attaching the property of a certain
debtor in Farmington, in the Slate of Maine.
He owed each one separately, and they each
were suspicious of the object of the other, but
dared not say a word about it. So they rode,
acquaintances all, talking upon everything ex
cept that which they had most at heart. When
they arrived at the depot at Farmington,
which was three miles from where the debtor
did business, they found nothing to ‘ put ’em
over the road ’ but a solitary cab, towards
which they all rushed. Three got in and re
fused admittance to the fourth, and the cab
started.
The fourth ran after and got upon the out
side with the driver. He asked the driver if
he wanted to sell his horse. He replied that
he did not want to—that he wa* not worth
mure than $50, but he would not sell him for
that. He asked him if he would take $100 for
him. Yes, said he. The ‘ fourth man ’ im
mediately paid over the money, took the reins
and backed the cab up to a bank—slipped it j
from the harness and tipped it up so that the
door could not be opened, and jumped upon
the horse’s back and rode off * lick-a-ty-switch,*
while the ‘ insiders’ were looking out of the
window feeling like 3inged cats.
He rode to a lawyer’s, and got a writ made
out and served, and his debt secure, and got
back to the hotel just as the * insiders’ came up
puffing and blowing. The cabman soon bought
back his horse,jpr $50. The ‘-sold’ men of- j
fered to pay thaV'sum, if the fortunate one,
who found property sufficient to pay Iiis own ]
debt, would not tell of it Boston.
But as both parties have told a friend of ours \
thinking the story ‘too good to be lost,’ we ;
feel at liberty ‘to let the cat out of the bag;’ j
more particularly so, as it illustrates a passage
that we never heard folly explained but once,
and then by a schoolboy who said :—‘Scholars
this verse is plain : when you tie up your cat
tle, old Buck goes in first, and old Broad next.
Broad went in last, but he will come out first,
and Buck went in first, but shall come out last.’
Manchester Mirror.
Travelling in Sweden.
‘ Bern,’ the foreign correspondent of the
Springfield Republican, in a recent letter,
gives the following description of the mode
of travelling in Sweden:
The posting system in Sweden is n very
peculiar one. No carriages are furnished,
except n little one horse carl, without springs,
so that if you wisli to travel with any com
fort you must take your own carriage with
you, and ilns must not only be piovitled with
a large pot ol grease hung from the axle he- !
neatli it, but also wiili a full set of black
smith's tools, 10 he ready for any not too ex
traordinary emergency. Excepi in a lew of
the large towns no horses are kept in readi
ness, Inn when a traveller arrives they are
brought hy the peasants living in the vicini
ty . "Bo are obliged to furnish them, howev
er inconvenient it may he. But they are
allowed to keep the traveller wailing three
hours, at the expiration of which time the
station master must, uuder heavy penalties,
have die horses ready.
This possible delay, however can he en- j
t rely uvoided hy sending what is called a
* lorbnd,’ that is, a messenger, to say mat tn
such a time you need a certain number of
horses, and if they are not then ready, the
station master is subjected to a heavy fine ;
and a book is always provided in which
complaints may he written, ami which is ex
amined at fixed intervals by the pioper all- !
tborilics. Morses may he kept waiting an I
hour without extra pay,alter which thecharge j
is twelve skillings, or six cents an hour per
horse, till at the expiration of five hours. :
when the peasant is at liberty to lake his j
horses home. The traveller, or his servant ]
is expecietl to drive, some one, commonly a
boy, going along to lake hack the horses, and j
carrying with him a huge bundle of hay, or i
two or three large crackers made of coarse 1
Black meal, with which to feed them. Willi
one horse, one person may travel, with iwo
horses three, in huili cases of course not in
cluding the boy.
The Swedes, when travelling alone, usual
ly take with them a sort of two-seated nar
row sulky, the traveller silting before and the
hoy behind, and sometimes there is merely a
standing place for the unfortunate hoy. The
cost ol travelling in ibis maimer varies some
what with llie district uf the country, bui it
is perhaps fair to give as the average, IS cts.
per horse per Swedish mile, which is equiv
alent to n fraction less than seven English
miles. On leaving the large (owns, the cost
is more, but in ihe most remote di-tricts it
does not exceed 12 12 cents per mile. A
‘ lorbud’ costs llie price ol one horse, mid
with n couple of cents you make the hoy ns
happy as a king. Af this season of the year
however, 1 have found it quite unnecessary
to send on a 4 for bud,’ for I have, till now,
with one or two exceptions, pot horses im
mediately on my arrival, though occasional
ly I have been obliged to offer a twelve skil
ling piece extra, if the horses were there in
ten minutes.
In I Ills way I have averaged, inclusive of
llie time lost in changing horses, a Swedish !
mile per hour, a rate of speed which is, in
pari, owing 10 the excellent roads which I
seem 10 exist all over the eouniry, and in
part also to the Swedish horses, which are
usually small, lough-looking little creatures
seldom fed on anything hut liny, and yet
seemingly possessing grear powers of endu
rance. They go glow up lull, bin make up
for this hy dashing down even the steepest
hills al a rate which sets an Englishman's
hair all on end, and occasionally lias n strong
tendency to cause an American's to assume
a perpendicular position. It seems to he the
custom to cut off the horses' manes quite
short, so ns to leave only a wild, hoar-like
crest standing up uluug the back of the neck,
which, ns you may easily imagine, gives to
them a peculiar appearance. The traveller
usually takes his harness with him. With
its tope reins and other ‘fixins,’ n is seldom
remarkable for beauty, whatever may be its
excellencies ill regard to strength. The tra
ces are never unfastened from the whiflle
tree, lint hy some, 10 me, quite obscure pro
cess, in which kicking, frisking, lifting, low
ering and swearing are combined in about
equal propottions, die poor animals are got j
into and out of the harness.
Two gentlemen, Mr. 1). and Mr. L., stood
candidates tor a seal ill the Legislature of
New York. They .were violently opposed
to each other. Hy some artifice, Mr. D.
gamed ilie election. Wlirn he was return
ing home much elated with success, he met
a gentleman, an acquaintance of his.—
‘Well,’ says 1)., ‘1 have got the election—L. i
i was no match lor trie. I’ll tell you ho-.v I
i flung him; if t here were any Dutch voiers.
I could talk Dutch with them.and there 1 had
the advantage of him. If there happened to
lie any Frenchmen, I could talk French with
them, and there 1 had the advantage of him.—
Hut ns to I,., lie was a clever, honest, sensi
ble lin e fellow.’ ‘Yes. sir,’ replies llie gen
tleman, and there he had the advantage of you.'
Quite a Difference. The Springfield
Republican mentions Mint a clergyman and
a warm advocate of the Maine Law. recently
stopped at a hotel in that citv, and uii being
shown into his room, ordered the waiter to
bring him some drinking water. A tumbler
of ‘colored beverage' was brought. Sus
pecting that it was not a glass of pure Ad
am's ale, the reverend gnnilemnu cautiously
protruded the tip of his tongue till it ramu in
contact with the suspecied article, and in
stantly shomed with great indignation—
‘Waiter ! why did you bring me this stuff?’
‘Did you not order it, sir ?’ asked the waiter.
‘Order it, no! I told you to bring me some
drinking water.' ‘Oh !’ responded ibe waiter,
■1 misunderstood you; 1 thought you told
me to bring you some drink, in water "
The Wizard “ done Brown.”
As Professor Anderson was looking ovar
llie various American and European news,
papers, which are 10 be found in the publics*
lion office ol llie Boston Daily Times, he
saw ilint he was closely scrutinized ty a
gentleman of tall stature and raiher swarthy
Appearance, and evidently not a Bostonian.
This individual after a abort space had
elapsed, nl length mustered courage, and
thus addressed the ‘Wtznrd’: ‘I say ! are
Y"U Pro.'essor Anderson, hey!’ ‘Yes, sir.*
■Wall, you’re a tarnation smart man, I hear.
You aim got that are bottle of yourn with
ye, have you?' ‘No sir.’ ‘Well, I'm from
down East; having heen raised in Maine,
and should like to purchase a duplicate of
that ere bottle. As I'm about going out
stumping fur Pierre I guess it I had your
Ixrtlle, or its twin brother, I’d soon swamp
away lire Reunites, without talking much
polities, either. ‘I never carry my bottle
with me, nor have I a duplicate of it.’ ‘Sor
ry lor ilmt. sir,’s;.id the Pierce stumper.—
However,’ be continued, I was once taught
a trick, when a hoy, hot I almost forget how
the darned tiling was done now. I'll tell
you how it was. Stranger, an near at 1 can.
I used to take a red cent and change it into
a ten dollar gold piece.’ ‘Oh,’ said the Pro
lessor,‘that is quite simple ; a mere trick of
sleight of hand.’ ‘Well, 1 know it Is not
very difficult, hut as I forget how, will you
show me ?’ at the same time handing a cent
totiie Wizard.
‘ Oh yes, sir, if it will oblige you, 1 will
show you in n moment. Hold out your
hand,'said the WiznrJ. ‘This is your cent,
is it not r’ ‘Yes Sire.' ‘Close your hand.'
The down easier closed his band last. ‘Are
yon sure you have it,’ sairl the Wizard ;‘I
guess 1 have,’ snid he. ‘and I bet a rlolleryou
can't change it into a ten dollar gold piece.’
‘Done,’said the Wizard.’ ‘Now hold fast.’
‘Yes sir, I reckon I will!—but amp! down
with your dollar, here is mine!’ said the
Yankee. The Wizard covered his dollar.—
'Now, sir’ are you ready?’ said the Wizard.
T am’i mulling else." said the Yankee.—
‘Now, sir, open your hand.’ He did so, and
to his utter astonishment be held a bona
FIDE TEN DOLLAR GOLD PIECE !
‘Well, sir,’ said the Wizard,‘you see you
Itnve lost yoor dollar!’ 'I guess I have,’
Slid lie, bunding over the two dollars.—
‘Now,’ says the Professor, ‘I II bet you anoth
er dollar I’ll change the ten dollar piece into
your cent again, and much quicker.' ‘No,
yer don’t,’ said the gem from Maine, placing
the ten dollars in his pocket, and buttoning
up tight, ‘I’m much obliged to you, Profes
sor, blit 1 re> kon I'll leave it as it is. Good
morning old hoss!’ said lie walking out of
the office, and turning round ns he reached
the door, he placed his digitals in a peculiar
position, with the thumb m close approxima
tion to his proboscis, saying,‘I guess there
aiut anything green about tins child ! and
left the Professor in ustonishment at hit
coolness.— Boston Times.
Indian Wooing.
Mrs. E. F. Elicit, the authoress, in her
letters Iroin Minnesota, to the N. Y. Tribune,
relates the following : —
! _ 6
Passing an hour or two beside the Fulls on
the side of the river opposite the town of St.
Anthony, and at the hospital/.e residence of
Col. Stevens, we had a walk and conversa
tion with an intelligent and cuiiivnteil ladv,
who had spent three years in teaching in the
vicinity, and had witnessed the growth of the
largest towns in the territoiy. The Indians,
with whom the region was then populous,
gave her a name signifying ‘hook wo nan,'
from the number of books she distributed
among the ignorant and destitute. She re
lated amusing anecdotes of out? brave who
aspired to her hand. He would spend hours
in serenading her with his fhue, according
to the Iiicli mi fashion of making love, nnd
would come to bet school, in which there
w* re several half-breeds, and prevail on these
to interpret bis wooing. His promise to
4 build her wigwam and hum the deer, and
make her moccasins,’ did not incline towards
him the heart of the lair object of Ins pas
sion; vet she wished to treat him kindly, and
in return lor a pewter ring which he presen
ted her, save him a hunch of shining brass
ones. Her surprise was great, when, n few
days nfur, he came to fetch home his bride,
the exchange of rings being the Indian form
of betrothal. On her refusing to go with
him lie departed, nnd the next duy sent sev
eral stout warriors to bring her, expressing
great d.s ippoiutrnem and chagrin when it
was explained to him that lie had no tight to
consider himself her lord and master. His
next nppenrunce was in Iront of her school
house, at the head of an armed troop of sav
ages, but on her appealing tu him with ges
tures of entreaty not to terrify the chil
dren, lie went a*vay without molesting any
one.
Slaving for Money.
Wc pity the man who wears out liia ener
gies in liie Hceiimnlaiion of riches, which,
when emassed, lie will have Ins! ihe capaei
ly to enjoy. He finds himself at the end of
his labors, a guest at his own leas', without
au appetite lor its dainties. The wine of tile
is wasted, and nothing remains hut ttie lees,
'l'he warm sympathies of the henrt have been
choked tiy the inexorable spirit of avarice,
and they cannot lie resuscifaled. The foim
lain head of his eolliusiasm is sealed ; lie
looks at all things in nature and in art with
an eye of calculation; laird matter-of-fact is
the pabulum his mind can feed on; the elas
tic spring of impulse is broken; llie poesy of
existence is gone.
Are wealili and position an equivalent to
those losses? Is not the millionaire, who has
arquiied wealth at such a cost, a miserable
bankrupt? In our opinion, there is little to
choose cn the score of wisdom between the
individual who recklessly squanders his
money as lie goes along in lolly and extrava
gance, and the false economist who denies
himself the wholesome enjoyments of life, in
order to swell that trea-ure which, in Hie
hardening process ot scraping up, he has be
come too mean to spend and too selfish to
give away.
The only rational way to live, is to mix la
bor with enjoyment—a sneak of fat and a
streak of lean. There is nothing like a
streaky life, n pleasant mixture of exertion,
rhniiklulness, love, jolity and repuse. The
man who slaves for riches, makes a poor re
turn to that God who look ■ lie trouble of
making him for a better purpose.
The following paragraph from a late num
ber of the Boston Courier, is replete with
good sense,and we hope will carry convic
tion to the mind of every reader who Sanc
tons directly or indirectly, the abominable
fashions referred to :
“Nature's Dress is Loveliness.”—
Washington street presented a gay spectacle
yesterday. There was quite a display of
blooming young women and healthy chil
dren or. the stds-walks during the afternoon ;
hut the cherub innocence id die one, and the
natural beamy of the other, were much dis
figured mid marred hy a eustoin wind* is
now all the rage among promenading ladies
and walking babies, viz:—the extremes of
long and short dresses. The trails of the
women, and the naked legs of the hall per
ishing children, were only equal in absurdi
ty. Notwithstanding the jeers of a voung
convert to whit is supposed to he the happy
state of man, it does seem to he the duty of
every sensible person, husband or bachelor,
to rail against the •fashion' prevalent among
a portion ol the female population. Large
feel are r.o excuse—the scoffs and gaze of
daiidydom are no excuse—‘fashion’ itself,
po:ent ns it is in the manners ot dress, is no
excuse for tolerating bare legged children
and long trailed women in the streets.—
Health and economy are against the system,
and the sooner it is abandoned the better.—
This is the opinion ol real friends and true
admirers of the ladies, and the babies of la
dies ton.
The individual who was injured by the
accidental discharge of bis duty, has not
been heard of since.

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