The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume], February 10, 1860, Image 1

About The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865

Image provided by: Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

                
VOL. XI—NO. 44.
[written for the pioneer and democrat.]
IS THE SMOKE.
Prom half-closed lips on amber restiDg,
The soft, blue wreaths still upward cresting;
Sweetly a-dream, and, in a dream of dreams,
From out the quivering smoke there gleams
A picture!
******
The little hand lay soft and warm in mine,
Her rich blood flushing through her face like
rosy wine
Through pure Bohemian ware ; her deep brown
eyes
Alight with all the spirit’s witcheries.
The mystic throbbing of a heart I heard ;
All my full soul with tender music stirred,
While low I bent to hear a sweet, soft sound,
Which, ere I heard, I felt, and all around
Did float a glamoured gush of melody,
And then—well! then,you see, unconsciously,
I robbed her crimson lips of half their wine
And called her mine !
The vision gone ! the type of all the love that
poets sing—
A mystic ideality. We grasp the pretty golden
thing,
And find it smoke !
St. Paul, Feb. 1,1860. ALROY.
The 'Wife.
From Washington Irving’s Sketch Book.
The treasures of the deep are not so precious
As are the concealed comforts of a man
Locked up in woman’s love. I scent the air
Of blessings, when I come but near the house.
What a delicious breath marriage sends forth—
The violet bed’s not sweeter.
Middleton.
I have often had occasion to remark the
fortitude with which women sustain the
most overwhelming reverses of fortune.
Those disasters which break down the spirit
of a man, and prostrate him in the dust,
seem to call forth all the energies of the
softer sex, and give such intrepidity and
elevation to the character, that at times it
approaches to sublimity. Nothing can be
more touching than to behold a sott, tender
female, who has been all weakness and de
pendence, and alive to every trivial rough
ness, while treading the prosperous paths of
life, suddenly rising in mental force to be
the comlorter and support of her husband,
under misfortune, and abiding with unshrink
ing firmness, the bitter blasts ol
As the vine, which has long twined its
graceful foliage about the oak, and been
lifted by it into sunshine, will, when the
hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt,
cling around it with its caressing tendrils,
and bind up its shattered boughs ; so is it
beautifully ordered by Providence, that wo
man, who is the mere dependent and orna
ment of man in his happy hours, should be
his stay and solace, when smitten with sud
den calamity ; winding herself into the rug
ged recesses of his nature, tenderly support
ing the drooping head, and binding up the
broken heart.
I was once congratulating a friend, who
had around him a blooming family, knit to
gether in the strongest aflection. “ I can
wish you no better lot,” said he, with en
thusiasm “ than to have a wife and children.
If you are prosperous, there they are to share
your prosperity, if otherwise, there they are
to comfort you.’’ And, indeed, I have
observed that a married man falling into
misfortune is more apt to retrieve his situa
tion in the world than a single one ; partly
because he is more stimulated to exertion
by the necesities of the helpless and beloved
beings who depend upon him for subsistence;
but chiefly because his spirits are soothed
and relieved by domestic endearments, and
his self respect kept alive by finding that,
though all abroad is darkness and humilia
tion, yet there is still a little world of love
at home, of which he is the monarch.
Whereas a single maa is apt to run to waste
and self neglect; to fancy himself lonely uud
abandoned, and bis heart to fall to ruin like
some deserted mansion, for want of an in
habitant.
These observations call to mind a little
domestic story of which I was a witness.
My intimate friend, Leslie, had married a
beautiful and accomplished girl who had
been brought up in fashionable life. She
had, it is true, no fortune, but that ol my
friend was ample ; and he delighted in the
anticipation ol indulging her in every elegaut
pursuit, and administering to those delicate
lastes a"d fancies that spread a kind of
witchery about the sex. “ Her life,’" said
he “ shall be like a fairy tale.”
The very difference of their characters
produced a harmonious combination ; he
was of a romantic and serious cast; she was
all life and gladness. I have often noticed
the mute rapture with which be would gaze
upon her in company, of which her sprightly
powers made her the delight; and how iu
the midst of applause her eye would still
turn to him as if there alone she soagbt
favor and acceptance. When hanging on
his arm her slender form contrasted finely
with his tall, manly person. The fond, con
fiding air with which she looked up to him,
seemed to pall forth a flush of triumphant
pride and cherishing tenderness, as it he
doted on his lovely burden for its helplessness.
Never did a couple set forward on the flow
ery path of early and well situated marriage
with a fairer prospect of felicity.
It was the misfortune of my friend, how
ever, to have embarked his property in large
speculations; he had not been married many
months, when by a succession of sudden
disasters it was swept from him, and he found
himself reduced almost to penury. For a
time he kept his situation to himself and
went about with a haggard countenance and
a breaking heart. IFs life was bat a pro
tracted agony; and what rendered it more
insupportable was the necessity of keeping
np a smile in the presence of his wife ; for
he could not bring himself to overwhelm
her with the news. She saw, however, with
the quick eye of affection that all was not
well with him She marked his altered looks
and stiffed sighs, and was not to be deceived
by his sickly and vivid attempts at.cheerfnl
ness. She tasked all her sprightly power
and blandishments to win him back to hap
piness ; but she only drove the arrow deeper
into his soul. The more he saw cause to
love her, the more torturing was the thought
that he was soon to make her wretched.
A little while, thought he, and the smile
will vanish from that cheek—the song will
die away from those lips—the lustre of those
eyes will be quenched with sorrow ; and the
happy heart which now beats lightly in that
bosom will be weighed down like mine, by
the cares and miseries of the world.
At length he came to me one day and
related his whole situation in a tone of deep
dispair. When I heard him throngh, I in
quired. “ Does your wife know all this ?”
At the question he burst into an agony of
tears. “ For God’s sake!” cried he, “if you
have any pity on me, don’t mention my wife;
it is the thought of her that drives me almost
to madness.”
“And why not ?” said I. “ She must
know it sooner or later; you cannot keep it
long from her, and the intelligence may
hreak upon her in a more startling manner
than if imparted by yourself; for the accents
of those we love soften the harsher tidings.
Besides, you are depriving yourself of the
comfort of sympathy; and not merely that,
but endangering the only bond that can keep
hearts together—an unreserved community
of thought and feeling. She will soon
perceive that something is secretly preying
upon ydur mind, and true love will not brook
reserve; it feels undervalued and outraged,
when even the sorrows of those it loves are
concealed from it.”
“0! but my friend! to think what a
blow I am going to give to all her future
prospects. How lam to strike her very
soul to the earth, by telling her that her
husband is a beggar! that she is to forego
all the elegancies ol life—all the pleasures of
gay society—to shrink with me into indigence
and obscurity 1 To tell her that I have
dragged her down from thesphere in which
she might have continued to move in constant
brightness —the light of every eye—the
admiration of every heart! How can she
bear poverty?—she has been the idol of
society. Oh it will break her heart, it will
break her heart.”
I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it
have its flow ; for sorrow relieves itself by
words. When bis paroxysm had subsided,
and be bad relapsed into moody silence, I
resumed the subject gently, and urged him
to break his situation at once to his wife.
He shook his head mournfully but positively.
‘ But how are you to keep it from her?
It is necessary that she should know it, that
you may take the steps proper to the
alteration of your circumstances. You must
change your Btyle of living—,” observing a
pang to pass across his countenance, “don’t
let us uffl.ct you. lam sure you have never
placed your happiness in outward show—
you have yet Iriends—warm friends, who
will not think the worse of you for being
less spieqjiidly lodged; and surely it does
not require a palace to be happy with
Mary .”
“ I could live with her,” he cried,
convulsively, “in a hovel 1 I could go down
with her into poverty and the dust! I could—
-1 could—God bless her,” cried he, bursting
into a transport of grief and tenderness.
“And believe me, my friend,” said I,
stepping up and grasping him warmly by the
baud, “believe me, she can be the same with
you. Ay, more; it will be a source ol pride
and triumph to her—it will call forth all the
latent energies and fervent sympathies of
her pature; lor she will rejoice to prove
that she loves you for yourself. There is
l every true woman’s heart a spark of
heaveuiy fire which lies dormant in the broad
daylight of prosperity ; but which kindles
up, and beams and bluzes in the dark hour
oi adversity. No man knows what the wife
of his bosom is—no man knows what a
mioisiering angel she is—until be has gone
with her through the fiery trials of this
W/or.d.”
There was something in the earnestness
of my mauuer, and the figurative style of
my language that caught the excited
imagination oi Leslie. I knew the auditor
1 hud to deal with; and following up tbe
impression I had made, I finished by
purßusdmg. him to go home, and unburden
ins sad heart to his wife. *.
I must confess, notwithstanding* all I had
said, 1 felt some little solicitude for the
result. Who can calculate on the fortitude
of one whose life has been a round of
pleasure ? Her gay spirit might revolt at
the durk, downward path of low humility
suddenly pointed out before, and might
SAINT PAUL. FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 1860.
cling to the sunny regions in which they had
hitherto revelled. Besides, ruin in fashionable
life is accompanied by so many galling
mortifications to which in other ranks it is
a stranger. In short, I could not meet
Leslie the next morning witout anticipation.
He made the disclosure.
“Aud how did she bear it ?”
“Like an angel! It seeni3 rather to be a
relief to her mind, for she threw her arms
around my neck and asked if this was all
that had lately made me unhappy. But,
poor girl,” added he, “she cannot realize the
change we must undergo. She had idea
of poverty but in the abstract; she has only
read of it in poetry, where it is allied to
love. She feels as yet no privation ; she
suffers no loss of accustomed conveniences or
elegancies. When we come particularly to
experience its sordid cares, its paltry wants,
its petty humiliations—then will be the real
trial.”
“Bat,” I said, “now that you have got
over the severest test, that of breaking it to
her, the sooner you let the world into the
secret the better. The disclosure may be
mortifying; but then it is a single misery,
and soon over ; whereas yon otherwise suffer
it in anticipation, every hour in the day. It
is not poverty not so much as pretence, that
harasses ruined man—the struggle between
a proud mind and an empty purse, the
keeping np a hollow show that it mast soon
come to an end. Have the courage to appear
poor, and yon disarm poverty of its sharpest
sting.” On this point I found Leslie quite
prepared. He had no false pride himself,
and as to his wife, she was only anxious to
conform to theii altered circumstance.
Some days afterwards he called upon me
in the evening. He bad disposed of his
dwelling house and taken a small cottage in
the country, a few miles. He had been
busied all day in sending out furniture. The
new establishment required few articles, and
those of the simplest kind. All the furni
ture of his late residence had been sold, ex
cept his wife’s harp. That, he said, was
too closely associated with the idea of her
self ; it belonged to the little story of their
loves ; for some of the sweetest moments of
their courtship were those when he had
leaned over that instrument, and listened to
the melting tones of her voice. I could but
smile at this instance of romantic galantry
in a doting husband.
He was now going out to the cottage,
where his wife had been all day superintend
ing its arrangements. My feelings had be
come strongly interested in the progress of
this family story, and as it was a fine eve
ning, I offered to accompany him.
He was wearied with the fatigues of the
day, and as he walked out, lell into a fit of
gloomy musing.
“ Poor Mary,” at length broke, with a
heavy sigh, from his lips.
“ And what ol her ? ” asked I; “ has
anything happened to her? ”
“ What,” said he, darting an impatient
glance, “ is it nothing to be reduced to this
paltry situation —to be caged in a miserable
cottage—to be obliged to toil almost in the
menial concerns of her wretched habita
tion ? ”
“ Has she then repined at the change ? ”
“ llepined 1 she has been nothing but
sweetness and good humor. Indeed, she
seems in better spirits than 1 have ever
known her ; she has been to me all love, and
tenderness and com lor t! ”
“Admirable girl” exclaimed I. “You
call yourself poor, my friend ; you never
were so rich—you never knew the' boundless
treasures of excellence you possess in that
woman.”
“ O ! but, my friend, if this first meeting
at the cottage was over, I think I could
then be comfortable. But this is her first
day of real experience; she has been intro
duced into a humble dwelling—she has been
employed 11 day in arranging its miserable
equipments—she has, for the first time,
known the fatigues of domestic employment
—she has, for the first time, looked around
her on a home destitute of everything elegant
—almost of everything convenient; and
may now be sitting down, exhausted and
spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future
poverty.”
There was a degree of probability in this
picture that I could not gainsay, so we
walked on in silence.
After turning from the main road up a
narrow lane, so thickly shaded with forest
trees as to give it a complete air of seclusion,
we came in sight of the cottage It was
humble enough in its appearance for the
most pastoral poet; and yet it had a pleas
ing rural look. A wild vine had overrun
one end with a profusion of foliage; a few
trees threw their branches gracefully over it;
and I also observed several pots of flowers
tastefully disposed about the door, and on
the grass plot in front. A small wicket gate
opened upon a foot path that wound through
some shrubbery to the door. Just as we
approached, we heard the sound of music—
Leslie grasped my arm; we paused and
listened. It was Mary’s voice singing, in a
style of the most touching simplicity, a little
air of which her husband was peculiarly
fond.
I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my „nxi.
He stepped forward to hear nore distinctly.
His step made a noise cn tie gr»vel walk.
A bright, beautifo’ '~':e glanced oat of the
window and van: u. • —lignt footstep was
heard—and Mary came tripping forth to
meet us ; she was in a pretty rural dress of
white ; a few wild flowers were twisted in
her fine hair; a fresh bloom was on her
cheek ; her whole countenance beamed with
smiles—l had never seen her look so lovely.
“ My dear George,” she cried, “ I am so
glad you are come! I have been watching
and watching for you ; and running down
the lane and looking for you. I’ve set out
a table irn’er a beautiful tree behind the
cottage ; and I’ve been gathering some of
the most delicious strawberries, for I know
you are fond of them—and we have such
excellent cream—and every thing is so
sweet and still here—o !” said she, putting
her arm within his, and looking up brightly
in his face, “ 0, we shall be so happy !”
Poor Leslie was overcome. He caught
her to his bosom—he folded his arms around
he—he kissed her again and again—he
could not speak, but tne tears gushed into
his eyes ; and he has often assured me, that
though the world has since gooe prosperously
with him, and his life has been indeed a
happy one, yet never has he experienced a
moment of more exquisite felicity.
Foreign News—England and France.
The America has arrived at Halifax with
English dates to the 15th ult. She brings
the news that England has formally declined
to join with France in a collective note to
all the Cabinets of Enrope, that any inter.,
vention in Central Italy by a foreign power,
should be regarded by France and England
as casus belli.
The British Cabinet, while expressing its
readiness to support the principle of non
intervention, either at the Congress or in
its communications with the foreign powers,
pointed out the impossibility of pledging
itself, without the consent of Parliament, to
a course of policy which might possibly
involve hostilities. The feelings of the
Northern Courts gave rise to some fear that
Europe would' not passively submit to so
threatening an intimation, and which also
implied the adoption of principles opposed
to the independence of every State which
possesses the right of forming alliances as it
may think proper, at its own risk and peril.
The British Cabinet having declined the
propositions to enter into engagements
having such an important bearing, an early
meeting of the European Congress was
again advised.
In case the French Emperor gets em
broiled with Austria and the Pope, he
evidently counts upon the sympathies of
England.
It is rumored that a majority of French
Bishops have expressed themselves ready to
launch into public notice against the French
government; but Rome hestitates to give
the signal.
At Vienna it is fully believed that the
government intends openly and actively to
interfere in Central Italy in favor of the
exiled Dukes and the Papal Government
The pastoral of the Archbishop of Vienna*
published in the’ Weiner Zeitung of the lltb,
confirms the fear.
A stormy meeting of the Great Eastern
Steamship Company had been held in Lon
don. A report was presented showing the
position of the company, and announcing
the resignation of the Board. A resolution
to receive the report was followed by an
amendment that before doing so a commit
tee of investigation be appointed. After a
warm discussion it was resolved to decide
itne question by ballot. The result was
expected to be made known on the day the
America sailed. The meetiug stood ad*
journed till the 17th of January.
The London Times editorially criticises
the financial statement of the American
government, and points out that owmg to
the youth of the one State and the mi urity
of the other, there is the strongest possiole
analogy between the respective proceedings
of England and America.
In another leader, the same journal ex
patiates on Mexican affairs in connection
with the President’s message. It says there
is not a question but that the Americas, if
they pleased, could march to Mexico, nor is
it to doubted that the advance would b
attended with at least the temporary beiiefi
of tranquility. Saving British interest,
should look on such a prow ding with the
least satisfaction. But if Mr. Buchanan’s
description of Mexico is a fa thful picture,
it will require far more than one casual
intervention to restore the country to the
rank of an organized State.
Trial of Stevens.
Charlestown, Feb. 2. —The town is
thronged to day, to witness the trial of Ste
vens, one of the Harper’s Ferry conspira
tors.
At 11 o’clock, the court opened—Judge
John Kinny, of Rockingham, presiding.
After the Judge’s charge to the Jury, they
retired to their room, and after an absence
of an hour, they returned with a bill against
Stevens, charging him with murder and
treason, and conspiring with slaves to excite
rebellion. An indictment of the same char
acter was shortly afterwards returned against
Hazlett.
The work of empanneling a Jury in the
case of Stevens, was postponed until to-mor
row.
The Trial of Stephens, one of the Har
per’s Ferry Conspirators.
The trial of A. D. Stephens, one of the
Harper’s Ferry Conspirators, commenced
at Charlestown, Va, on the Ist, before
Judge John Kenny, of Rockingham, Va.
Messrs. Harding and Hunter appeared for
the State, and Geo. Sennett, Esq., of Bos
ton, for the defence. The Judge, in deliver
ing his charge, said of the Harper’s Ferry
invasion :
“It is known to you, and is now a part
of the history of the country, that on the
night of the 16th of October last, a band of
traitors, murderers and incendiaries stealth
ily made a descent on the soil of Virginia,
in the county of Jefferson, and wantonly
murdered several of our citizens and people,
with the design to incite our slaves to revolt
and to subvert our government. Some of
these desperadoes, and others, the dupes of
cowards, were captured, tried and punished
according to their deserts. But there are
some engaged, or supposed to have been en
gaged in this foray, who have not as yet
been apprehended, and others who are be
lieved to have been actively engaged in this
tragedy, but who are not yet known to the
public.
“ It will be your duty, and I believe your
pleasure also, to inquire who was guilty of
polluting our soil, and attempting to dis
honor Virginia. I deem it necessary for
me to recommend you to conduct your in
quiries with that coolness, justice and good
sense which has distinguished your prede
cessors in their inquisitions, and which has
met the approbation of the patriotic and
good citizens of our common country. So
conduct your inquiries that the bright es
cutcheon of your beloved state shall not be
dimmed by passion or groundless suspicion,
and also let them be conducted without fear,
favor or affection, as you may elicit the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth.”
The grand jury returned a true bill against
Stephens, charging him with murder and
treason, and with conspiracy to incite slaves
to create rebellion. An indictment of a
similar character was found against Hazlett.
The only military force on guard at Charles
town, is a company of twenty cavalry.
Charlestown, Va., Feb. 2. —The court
opened at 10 o’clock this morning, Judge
John Kenny presiding.
Mr. Stevens was brought in by the jailor
and his guard, in seeming perfect health.
Mr. Sennot suggested to the common'
wealth the propriety of announcing whether
it would elect to try one or all the counts,
or whether they relied upon one or all for
conviction. He also read a letter from Pre
sident Buchanan in regard to inquiries in
regard to the trial. He thought the com
monwealth had acted in good faith to the
prisoners, in removing the case to the federal
court and then receding from that determi
nation, and thought the indictment ought
to be quashed. He appealed to the mercy
of the court, for it certainly would be an
act of mercy to send the prisoner to Stanton
for trial.
Mr. Harding, for the commonwealth, had
not made a proposition for removal, and
had strongly protested against that through
out the trial. He was at present willing to
turn them all over to the federal authorities,
but alter the state decided to try them he
was opposed to any change of trial. He did
not consider Gov. Wise had authority to
make the change.
Mr. Hunter denounced as utterly untrue
the assertiou of Mr. Sennot, that Stevens
was forced to plead at the late term of the
court.
Mr. Sennot disclaimed any intention to
reflect on any one, and spoke eloquently of
the siate of Virginia, hoping his tongue
might wither before he would speak in any
but terms of praise of the state.
When the offer was made to send Stevens
to Stanton, he thought he should better ac
cept the offer, for it was a matter of life
and death, and he might share the fate of
Browa.
Judge Kenny, after stating bis under
standing of the motion of Mr. Sennot, said
there was nothing to show that he ever made
a legal surrender of the prisoner. He would
pay no attention to political influences, and
the prisoner would have as fair a trial as
any southern man could have. He could
only look on it as an appeal of the counsel
for the defense to trasfer the case, and would
have to reject the appeal.
Mr. Harding moved a nolle prosequi on
the old indictments, as the prisoners would
have to be tried on the indictment brought
in yesterday.
Mr. Sennot requested the commonweath
to select one count in the indictment, in or'-
der to render the case les3 complicated, and
in justice to the prisoner.
Mr. Hunter replied, ouoting a number of
authorities to show the legality of the course
taken, and declining to recede from any
count on the indictment, deeming than all
necessary.
Lord Clyde’s share of the India p’nnder
is stated by an English paper as £120,000
sterling. Clyde is the best soldier of fortune
on record.
NEW SERIES-NO. 217.
The Lawrence Catastrophe—Verdict of
the Coroner’s Jury.
Lawrence, Mass., Feb. 3. —The Jury of
Inquest of the Pemberton Mill calamity
rendered their verdict last evening. It is
quite lengthy, embracing a careful review of
the testimony.
The Jury find that from all the evidence
adduced before them, they do not believe that
the owners of said mill, at the time of the
demolition, ever had reason to distrust its
security.
The Jury further find that the fire origin
ated after the fall of the said mill ; was
caused by the accidental breaking of a lan
tern in the hands of some person to them
unknown, and at the time actually engaged
in aiding and assisting in rescuing the suf
ferers then alive and beneath the flooring of
the mill; upon all of which several findings
the Jury determine and say that the direct
cause of the fall of the mill was the weakness
and insufficiency of the cast iron sheeting,
the thinness of the brick walls, and the
manner of construction.
The length of span from one support to
another beneath the floor timber, were ad
ditional causes, and aided in the general
demolition of the building, and that so far
as the actual defects in the cast iron pillars
existed, responsibility rested upon Albert
Fuller, the former contracting agent and
foreman of the Eagle Iron Fonndary, then
at West Boston.
That upon 0. L. Bigelow, the architect,
as well as the superintendent of this struc
ture, rests all the responsibility, arising from
an insufficient test of said pillars and from
any and every direct weakness from inse
curity in or about the general construction
of said building. That the walls were built
under his supervision. That the timbers
and flooring were in every respect construct
ed as he originally designed. The inner sup
ports of cast iron previous to erection, had
his approval, and were by him adopted as in
all parts safe and secure. That such in
spection as he required was given to the
iron pillars, and that any want of skill in
designing, any error of judgment in approv
ing and adopting, and any want of due
care and caution in properly testing the
different parts of the structure on his part
appearing to that extent rendered him re
sponsible for the direful catastrophe, in
volving the death of these 122 human beings.
Mr. Pennington's Speech,
Mr. Pennington, upon his election, was
conducted to the Speaker’s Chair, by
Messrs. Bocock and Sherman. Amid a
quiet that strangely contrasted with the pre
vious excitement, Mr. P. made the following
graceful speech :
Gentlemen of the House of Representatives :
I return you my grateful acknowledgments
for the distinguished . honor you have been
pleased to confer upon me, iB electing me
Speaker of this House. Coming here for
the first time, at the present, to be associated
with you as a member, no event could have
been more unlooked for than that I should
be called upon to preside over your deliber
ations; and my friends will do me the jus
tice to say that I have nSt sought the posi
tion, as I certainly never desired it. I am
nevertheless as conscious of the dignity and
importance of this high office as any gentle
man can b<, but should have been far better
pleased could its have been instrusted to
abler and more experienced hands. After
witnessing the almost insurmountable ob
stacles in the way of an organization of this
House, I came to the conclusion that a
gentleman of any party who could command
a majority of the votes for Speaker, was
bound, in deference to the public exigencies,
to accept the responsibility as an act of
patriotic duty, whether it was agreeable to
his personal feelings or not. As that choice
has unexpectedly fallen on me, I have not
hesitated to accept it. In the execution of
this high trust, my object will be to do my
duty with impartiality and justice to all. I
shall have great necessity, gentlemen, lor
your indulgence in the new position in which
I am placed ; and I feel entire confidence
that 1 shall receive it at your hannds. As
a Representative from the State of New
Jersey, upon whose soil so many brill ant
achievements were accomplished in the
revolutionary war, and whose people have
ever been distinguished for their devotion to
the Constitution and the Union, I pray to
the Great Arbiter of our destinies that I
may do no act to impair the integrity of
either, but that by wise and prudent coun
sels, peace and order may yet reign in our
midst, and our free institutions may be per
petuated to our descendants. I feel that 1
have a national heart, embracing all parts of
our blessed Union. Again thanking vou
for your kindness, I now enter upor/the
duties of that arduous and complicated sta
tion.
Jahes Stephenson, the wife-poisoner,
whose repeated trials occupied so much at
tention in New York, was hung on Friday
last. The execution took place in the prison
yard. About 200 persons were present. He
met his fate firmly, and was attended at the
scaffold by three clergymen. He died pro
testing his innocengp.