The Washingtonian. [volume], September 06, 1845, Image 1

About The Washingtonian. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1845-1845

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VOLUME 1. Devoted to Total Abstinence, Morals, Education, Literature, Useful Arts, Domestic Economy, and General Intelligence. NUMBER 14,
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Strictly Tee-total, and Exclusive of all Slattern of a Political or Sectarian Character, and of all Advertisements of Imtoxicatlng-drink-ielling B?t?bliihm?nti.
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by george cochran & co.] WASHINGTON, D. C., SEPTEMBER 6, 1845. ' [fifteen cents per month.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, BY
GEORGE COCHRAN & CO.,
WASHINGTON CITV, D- C.
PUBLICATION OFFICE ON SIXTH STREET,
SOUTH OF PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE.
TERMS OF ADVERTISING.
ONE SQUARE, one insertion, FIFTY cents, or FOUR
insertions for ONE DOLLAR.
ONE SQUARE, 3 montlis $2 50
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Longer advertisements in proportion.
93T FOURTEEN lines, or under, called a square.
JQr BUSINESS CARDS, of SIX LINES, will be
conspicuously inserted for FOUR DOLLARS per year,
in advance.
Apothecaries, Stationers and others, wishing a
column or half column, will be accommodated at the
lowest rates.
POBTIOAL FOUNT.
" Here Nature's minstrels quaff inspiring draughts."
THE DRUNKARD'S WIFE'S SOLILOQUY.
Dark is the night, how dark, no light, no fire,
Cold on the earth the last faint sparks expire!
Why should he leave me thus ? he once was kind,
And I believ'd 'twould last?how mad, how blind.
Rest now sweet babe ! rest on; 'tis hunger's cry;
Sleep, for there is no food; the font is dry;
Famine and cold their weary work hare done ;
My heart must break?and then the clock strikes one.
Hush! 'tis the wine cup! yes, he's there?he's there !
For this, for this, he leaves me in despair;
Leaves love, leaves truth, his wife, his child?for what?
The wanton's smile, the villain, and the sot.
Yet I'll not curse him, no ! 'tis all in vain,
'Tis long to wait, but sure he'll come again,
And I could starve and bless him, but for you,
My child?his child?oh, fiend ! the clock strikes two.
Can he desert me thus ? he knows I stay
Night after night in loneliness, to pray
For his return ; and yet he sees no tear ;
No, no, it cannot be, he will be here.
Nestle more closely, dear one, to my heart,
Thou'rt cold, thou'rt freezing, but we will part.
Husband, I die ; father, it is not he ;
Oh, God ! protect my child?the clock strikes threo.
They're gone, they're gone, the glim'ring spark hath
fled,
The wife and child are numbered with the dead ;
On the cold hearth outstretched in solemn rest,
The babe lay frozen on its mother's breast.
The drunkard came at last; ah, but too late?
Dread silence reigned around, he saw his fate ;
He cried with maniac madness, "all is o'er"?
On his brow wrote lost! lost!?the clock struck four.
A HEART TO LET.
To be let, at a very desirable rate,
A snug little house, in a healthy estate :
'Tis a bachelor's heart, and the agent is chance,
Affection, the rent, to be paid in advance;
The owner, as yet, has lived in it alone,
So the fixtures are not of much value, but soon
'Twill be furnished by Cupid himself, if a wife
Takes a lease for the term of her natural life ;
So ladies, dear ladies, pray do not forget,
An excellent bachelor's heart to be let.
The tenant will have a few taxes to pay,
Love, honor, and heaviest item, obey;
As for the good-will, the landlord's inclined
To have that, if agroeable, settled in kind ;
Indeed, if such matters he could arrange,
He'd be highly delighted to take in exchange,
Provided good title of prudence be shown,
Any heart unencumbered and free as his own;
So ladies, dear ladies, do not forget,
An excellent bachelor's heart to be let.
SAFETY-BONDS.
" The pledge tee-total has its millions sav'd."
GENERAL PUEEGSL
We promise to abstain from all intoxicating drinks,
and to discountenance the cause and practice of
Intemperance.
PLEDGE OF THE JUVENILE COLD WATER
ARMY OF THE DISTRICT.
Nor fiery Rum
To turn our home
Into a Hell,
Whore none could dwell?
"Whence peace would fly,
Where hope would die,
And love expire
'Mid such a fire;
This youthful band
Do with our hand,
The pledge now sign
To drink no Wine,
Nor Brandy red
To turn the head.
Nor Whiskey hot
That makes the sot,
So here we pledge unceasing hate,
To all thai can intoxicate.
PLEDGE OF THE SONS OF TEMPERANCE.
I, without reserve, solemnly pledge my honor as a
man, that I will neither make, nuy, sell, nor use as a
beverage, any Spirituous or Malt Liquors, Wine, or
Cider.
PLEDGE OF THE UNITED BROTHERS OF
TEMPERANCE.
No brother shall make, buy, sell, or use, as a beverage,
any Spirituous or Malt Liquors, Wine or Cider.
/
"Confidence is the first duty of noble minds.
It is only the weak and narrow minded, who,
from the somewhat hard lessons of the world,
acquire the false wisdom of doubting those
who have never deceived them."
" I'm taking down the census of a densely
populated neighborhood," as the fellow said
when he swallowed the skippery cheese.
Under pretence of being useful, people often
show more curiosity than kindness.
41 Home, sweet home," as the bee said when
he entered his hive.
POPULAR SELECTIONS, j
" From grave to gay, from lively to Bevere."
A TRUE HEROINE.
The Irish' as a nation are often accused of
insincerity; and it must be confessed that,
judged by the standard of our duller tempera
ment, their very vehement professions of attach
ment, do often appear uncalled for and exagge
rated. Yet where in truth do we ever meet
with more touching instances of real, unselfish
devotion, than are sometimes exhibited by the
poor uneducated eons and daughters of Hibcr
nia ?
A case in point occurred, not rwany weeks
ago, in this city. A young physician, greatly
beloved by his friends and associates, was taken
suddenly ill; after remaining a day or two at
his own office, deprived, unavoidably, of all
those soothing attentions which none but woman
can offer in the hour of sickness, the young
man grew rapidly worse, and the kind lady at
whose table he took his meals generously in
sisted upon his instant removal to her own
house, that he might be within reach of that
careful tendence which the alarming peculiari
ties of his case demanded. The disease was
scarlet fever of the most malignant and dan
gerous type.
On the day of his arrival, among other inqui
rers there came a tidy, respectably dressed
girl?an Irish girl?with many, very many and
most anxious questions as to the patient's con
dition ; and when they had all been answered?
when everything had been told her of good or
bad, connected with his disorder?she lingered
still, 6till hesitated, as though there was yet h
something in her heart that could not find its
proper utterance.
" Are you acquainted with D my good
girl]" asked the lady. "Do I know him, is
it 1" Oh yes, 6he knew him well, quite well?
knew him long before he came from the old
country. He had once attended her through a
long and dangerous illness ; and?now buret
forth the pent-up secret?he had surely saved
her life by his skill and care, and she had come
to ask the kind lady?could she, might she, on
ly be permitted just to stay in the house until
his recovery, and in her turn watch over and
wait upon him !
She had been living out, it appeared, in the
neighborhood, as nursery maid; but her em
ployers, in their dread of scarlet fever, objected
to her daily visits of inquiry at the Doctor's of
fice, so the affectionate creature had unhesita
tingly given up a good place and hastened away,
delighted at the thought of being useful to her
benefactor, and showing her gratitude for his
former kindness by tendering her services to
him as nurse.
A look of scrutiny, turned upon her as she
told her simple story, was met by one so tho
roughly pure and honest in its expression, that
after a few moments pause, a willing corident
was given to the arrangement, and with a noise
less tread, but with an expression of relief, as
if the weight of a world had been lifted from
her bosom, the warm-hearted girl bounded up
stairs and took her station at the bed side of the
patient.
It was a melancholy case altogether. The
mother and three sisters of the young man,
though written to, were as yet far away, and
his weary hours wore still farther embittered
by the knowledge that if he died they would
bo left utterly destitute?the property upon
which they all lived being entailed upon him,
the only son, and reverting, at his death, to the
next male heir of the family.
But to return to the more immediate subject
of this sketch. From the hour of her first as
suming the duties of nurse, she never left him,
day or night, for a single moment, unless to
bring for his comfort and relief such things as
the other girls of the house, in their fear of in
fection, were too much terrified to carry up to
his room. The symptoms soon became too
marked to leave any more than a faint hope of
ultimate recovery, but the courageous girl
never suffered her feelings to overcome her ;
her manner is described as calm and self.pos
sessed to a singular degree, the features gener
ally motionless, and the voice without a trace
of agitation in its tone.
Once, indeed, and once only, toward the last,
she was seen outside of his room door, her
hands pressed convulsively against her eyes,
and her bosom heaving with emotion. But the
tears were resolutely forced back?the feelings
bravely gulped down, and in one moment more
the devoted girl had turned the handle with a
quick touch, and resumed her duties by the
bed of death.
The poor sufferer was attended by a host of
medical friends, but tho fiat had gone forth ; a
"still small voice" had whispered to him, and
he knew he must die. And he did diq, calling
upon his mother, and wondering how she would
be able to bear the tidings of his loss.
Amid all the exclamations of sorrow and con
sternation around, not one word was spoken by
the poor girl who had been his untiring watch
er so long. A stranger might almost have im
agined her an uninterested spectator of the
scene?"a hireling, who cared not for her
charge"?but those who knew her better,
could observe that she never moved from his
side?never lost sight of hinc for a single in
stant. It was she who closed the staring lids,
bound up the head, and prepared him for the
coffin ; and all in utter silence?not a word of
sorrow came from her. The pale cheek and
trembling hand were the only interpreters of
the feelings with which she did it all.
At Jcngth the last sad office* were to be per
formed. They pursuadu^ her to Jeave the
room for a short time, and when she returned,
the body was removed from the bed, and the
coffin?oh, bitter disappointment!?the coffin
was screwed down.
Then indeed a wail of despair escaped her
lips. She could see no reason for such haste?
there was time, plenty of time before them?
and what had she done that .she should not be
allowed one look?one last look?before they
took him away and shut him up forever?
Being made to understand, after a time, the
necessity in such cases of immediate burial,
she suffered the men to depart without further
remonstrance; but within the next half-hour
she had quietly borrowed a screw driver?shut
herself into the room?withdrawn every screw'
in the coffin lid?and gazed, Oh! who shall
say with what bitterness of feeling??upon the
face within, then fastening the lid down again,
remained tranquil, nay almost happy, in the
thought that her hand was the last that had
been laid upou his brow?her eye the very last
that had rested upon his features.
After the funeral, when the few valuables
belonging to the deceased were collected to
gether, she was asked whether she would not
wish to keep something in remembrance of
him ; and 6he was told that she might take for
that purpose any thing she pleased.
44 May 11?sure, then, I'll take this "?laying
her hand eagerly upon it. It was an old hand
kerchief, soiled and rumpled, which the young
man had worn around his neck during the last
hours of h>8 ilimess, and which, in the bustle
and confusion, had been left on the bed just
where it had been thrown after his death.
The friends urged her tu make another choice*
" No," she would have that, and only that.
They asked her to take something in addi
tion, at all events; something of more value.
"No, no?nothing but that?she wanted
nothing more."
One gentleman pointed out the possible dan
ger of her selection, and warned her at least
not to hold it bo near her person.
But by this time the poor girl had become
impatient at the opposition. It's mine now
sure, sure I may do what I like with my own."
And with the word, the handkerchief was
drawn tightly round her throat, and the two
ends thrust deep within her bosom; and one
who stood nearest her could hear the almost
whispered words,44 He did me nothing but good
in life, and I'm sure he won't hurt me now."
It is unnecessary to say with what feelings
the relatives looked upon her, when they heard
of her devotion to the lost son and brother ; she
tvas immediately offered a home among them,
but it was gratefully declined; her duty waa
accomplished and she preferred returning to
the lowly and self-denying course of life in
which her lot was cast.
THE INEBRIATE.
A SKETCH.
He stood leaning upon a broken gate, iti front
of his miserable dwelling. His tattered hat
was in his hand, and the cool breeze lifted the
matted locks which covered bis once noble
brow. His countenance was bloated and dis
figured ; but in his eye there was an unwonted
look?a mingled expression of Badness and re
gret. Perhaps he was listening to the low
melancholy voice of his patient wife, as she
soothed the sick babe on her bosom ; or per
chance he was gazing upon the 6weet face of
his eldest daughter, as at the open window she
plied her needle to obtain for her mother and
the poor children a scanty sustenance. Poor
Mary ! for herself she cared not: young as she
was, her spirit was already crushed by poverty,
unkindness, and neglect. As the inebriate thus
stood, his eyes wandered over the miserable
habitation before him. The windows were
broken, and the doors hingeless; scarce a ves
tige of comfort remained; yet memory bore
him back to the days of his youth, when it was
the abode of peace and happiness. In fancy he
saw again the old armed chair where sat his
father, with the bible upon his knee; and he
seemed to hear again the sweet notes of his
mother, as she laid her hand upon the head of
her darling boy, and prayed that God would
bless and preserve him from evil. Long years
had passed away, yet tears came into the eyes
of the drunkard at the recollection of his mo
therms love.
" Poor mother!" he muttered, u it is well
that thou art sleeping in the grave; it would
break thy heart to know that thy son is a
wretched and degraded being?a miserable out*
cast from society.'*
He turned slowly away. Deep within an
idjoinir.g forest was a dell, where the beams of
he sun scarcely ever penetrated. Tall trees
jrew on either side, whose branches, meeting
ibove, formed a canopy of leaves, where the
birds built their nests, and poured forth happy
songs. Thither the drunkard bent his. steps.
Ft had been his favorite haunt in the days of
his childhood, and as he threw himself upon
the soft green sward, the recollection of. past
scones came crowding over his mind. He co
vered his face with his hands, and the prayer
of the prodigal burst from hiB lips?" O pqdj^
receive a returning wanderer!" Suddenly a
soft arm was thrown around his neck, and a
sweet voice murmured, "he will forgive you,
father." Starting to his feet, the inebriate saw
standing before him his youngest daughter, a
child of six years.
"Why are you here, Anne?" he said, ashamed
that the innocent girl should have witnessed
his grief.
" I came to gather the lilies which grow upon
the banks," she replied ; "see, I have got my
basket full, and now I am going to sell them."
" And what do you do with the money?"
asked the father, as he turned his eyes to the
basket, where, among their broad green leaves,
the sweet lilies of the valley were peeping
forth.
The child hesitated: she thought she had
said too much; perhaps her father would de
mand the money, and spend it in the way in
which all his earnings went.
" You are afraid to tell me, Anne," said her
father kindly. " Well I do not blame you ; I
have no right to my children's confidence."
The gentleness of his tone touched the heart
of the affectionate child. She threw her arms
around his neck, exclaiming,
" Yee, father, I will tell you. Mother buys
medicines for poor little Willie. We have no
other way to get it. Mother and Mary work
all the time they can to buy bread."
A pang shot through the inebriate's heart.
" I have robbed them of the comforts of life,"
he exclaimed??? from this moment the liquid
fire passes my lips no more."
Anne stood gazing at him in astonishment.
She could scarcely comprehend her father's
words?but she saw that some change had
taken place. She threw back her golden ring
lets, and raised her large blue eyes, with an
earnest look, to his face.
" Will you never drink any more rum?" she
whispered timidly.
?? Never! Anne," her father replied solemnly.
Joy danced in her eyes. " Then we will all
be so happy," she cried, "and mother won't
weep any more ; oh, father, what a happy home
ours will be !" Years passed away. The words
of little Anne, the drunkard's daughter, had
proved true. The home of the reformed man
was indeed a happy one. Plenty crowned his
board?and health and joy beamed from the
face of his wife and children?where once
squalid misery alone could be traced. The
Pledge had raised him from his degradation,
and restored him once more to peace and hap*
pipces.?Norwich Spectator.
Getting a place at the Fire.?Every body
has read the anecdote of Dr. Franklin, who,
when travelling upon a " raw and gusty day,"
stopped at a tavern, and found the fire entirely
pre-occupied by a set of village loafers, who
would not budge an inch in ihe way of civility
to a stranger.
He called for a peck of oysters for his horse;
and while the unmannerly cubs all went to
the stable to witness the novel spectacle of a
horse eating oysters, the Doctor selected a
comfortable place at the fire, " to roast his
oysters, and to warm himself." Of course the
horse didn't eat the oysters, but the Doctor
did.
About as good a story is told in the Spirit
of the Times, of a recruiting captain in the
recruiting service at the west, who went into
a grocery where were a lot of loungers, and
no one offered him a seat. Knowing every
thing about the grocery, he went behind the
countcr, and seizing a keg marked powder,
threw it upon the fire, exclaiming?
"Gentlemen, it's my opinion that we've
lived long enough."
The way they ran out of the store was a
caution to "ground and lofty tumbling." Of
course the keg was empty.
Reasons for not paying for a Newspa
per.?The "Christian Advocate" publishes
the following extract of a letter:
"Please say to the Editor of the Christian
Advocate that it would doubtless be well to
erase the name of C. C. from his books, and
give up as gone that $7 GO. He says, in the
first place, he never ordered the paper; and
if he did, he never got it; and if he did, 'twas
as an agent; and besides, he thinks he paid
for it long ago; and if he did'nt he has got
nothing to pay; and if he had, he could plead
[ the act of limitation."
ADVERTISEMENTS
" Here silver pence are lurn'd to gulden pounds."
HOUSE AND SIGN ORNAMENTAL
PAINTING, GLAZING, $c,
J. H. HI LTON
INFORMS the public that he carries on the
above business, in all its various branches.
Jtjr'Orders left with Mr. Ropier, Paper Hanger
andupholstfcrer, Bridge street, Georgetown, near
the bridge, or Mr. J. E. W. Thompson, Cabinet
Maker, F between 13th and, 14th streets, Wash
ington, will be duly attended to.
J. H. H.'s prices will be reasonable, and work
?3NMmed tuxunpUy* with the best of materials and
workmanship.
June 21 3m 3 ^
SUMMER GOODS.
OWEN, EVANS & CO., MERCHANT TAIL
ORS, beg leave to announce to their friends
and the public generally, that they have just open
ed their supply of
SUMMER GOODS,
Consisting of a careful selection^ made by one of
the firm, from the latest importations of English
and French Cloths, Cassimeres, Drillings, Veat
ings, &c., an examination of which is respectfully
solicited.
Store on Pennsylvania avenue, between Fuller's
and Galabrun's Hotels.
June 7 tf 1
PAINT STORE.
PJlIJsTS, OILS, AND WINDOW GLASS.
KEGS of Pure White Lead?in oil
250 Gallons Boiled and Raw Linseed Oil
200 Boxes of Window Glass
French and English Plate of various sizes
Emerald, Paris, Chrome, and Imperial Greens
dry and ground in Oil
Paint and Whitewash Brushes, of various kinds
Coach, Copal, Furniture, Mastic, and Japan
V arnishes
A constant supply of FRESH PINE OIL; also
Sperm, Solar, and Lard Oils
Lamp Wicks and Glasses?as usual?
For sale on the best terms, by
O. WHITTLESEY,
C street, Todd's Building.
TIN WARE! TIN WARE!!
JOHN T. TONGE informs his friends and the
public generally, that he has commenced bu
siness on Seventh street, three doors South of the
Patriotic Bank, where be has on hand, and will
manufacture to order, all kinds of TIN AND
COPPER WARE, of the best materials and woik
manship.
Roofing, Guttering, and Spouting, dona in
the best manner.
All kinds of Tin and Copper Ware repaired in
the neatest manner, and on reasonable terms.
June 21 tf 3
CLOTHING ! CLOTHING ! !
Cheap as the cheapest, if not cheaper,
Good ns the best, if not better.
A LARGE and excellent assortment of ready
made CLOTHING always on hand, suitable
for the PRESENT SEASON, which will be sold
on accommodating terms: assuring purchasers the
full value of their money, without disappointment
in quality or workmanship.
1 he public are respectfully invited to call and
examine for themselves, at the Washington Clothing
Store No. 1, F near 15th street.
CHRISTOPHER CAMMACK.
June 7 tf 1
BOOT SHOE MAKING.
JOHN E. BAILY respectfully informs his friends
and the public generally, that he is prepared
to execute, at the shortest notice, and in the neat
est manner, all orders in his line. He will manu
facture LADIES', MISSES', and CHILDREN'S
shoes, of every variety, out of the best materials,
and on the most reasonable terms, and will en
deavor to give general satisfaction to all- who may
give him a call. He will also keep on hand an
assortment of ready-made work, which he will
warrant to be equal, in workmanship and materials,
to any sold in Washington.
Persons desiring good and substantial work, aro
invited to give him a call, at the corner of Tenth
and E streets.
June 21 3m 3
NO HUMBUG! NO HUMBUG!!
STILL prepared to compete with the numerous
candidates for public favor in the line of my
business, I would respectfully state to my numer
ous patrons, that I am still occdpying the same old
stand, on THIRTEENTH STREET, two door*
north of Pennsylvania avbnue, where I am to
be found at all times, ready to receive and execute
all jobs In the most finished style of the art.
I would most respectfully submit the following
scale of prices: >) ,
Cleansing and Dying Coats of every des
cription - - - - -$100
Cleansing and Dying Pants of every des
cription ----- 50
Silk and Woolen Dresses, of all cplors - 1 00
Ladies Merino Cloaks - - - 1 00
Florence Braids and Straw Bonnets, dyed
and pressed - - - - 37 \
Parasols and Sunshades - - - 23"
Window Curtains, of every description, 12? cenfs
per yard. >
Guaranteeing the work done at the above prices
to give satis/action in all cases.
WILLIAM MOREL AND.
June 14 tf 2
CABINET WAREROOMS.
H . HARDY.
F ST., .VI .1R TREASURY DEPJ1RTME.\T,
KEEPS a general assortment of FURNITURE.
HOUSES FURNISHED at the lowest prices,
for cash.
FUNERALS attended at the shortest notice.
FURNITURE REPAIRED, 8,-c.
All orders promptly attended to.
Terms cash. June 14?tf 2
FRESH MEATS! !
THE Citizens of Washington wiil recollect that
they can obtain
FRESH BEEF, LAMB, and VEAL,
On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, at the PRO
VISION STORE, on the Southwest corner of
Pennsylvania avenue and Sixth streets.
3 P. CROWLEY.
June 7 \-r M - ^