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P?*< f] OWE CENT. Till! XEW-TORK TRIB?NE Will bepablished every morning, (Sundaya excepted,) at Xo. 30 A no-street, New-York. And delivered lo < ity Subscribers for One Cent per ropy. M^il Subscriber*, *l per ?nnnm tu advance. TO TTTE VDVRRTLSrXG PUBLIC. |n*;tV hope of securing a wid* and general Advertising patronter*. ?V-f.x.r. Of our friend- will \,v inserted tfll torta< r aotice :.t the fol? lowing reduced rates, viz fO? EACH ADVERTISEMENT or Twelwlm-'T !<?-- first insertion. SO ct*. Da for each subsequent insertion . Hi.. f..r Nix insertions, 0 .week.**1 50 J>o. foe 'r?vcntj-fi??' innertious, <t (nr- mmiili.S5 OO Longer Advi rtiset lents at equally favorable ratr*. Fur Fire !in?. half the ibovo rat.--: Two lines, one-fourth <>f the-.- rate-?payah!" 11! 1 .?>?' in advance. li A R N A BY RUDGE, C( "Xrto ?Lfc'ort; ?p ?05. CfJAITEK U. ?? A strange story !" -aid the num. who had been the cau-e of the narration. " Stranger still, if it comes about a* you pre lict Is that all ' ' A question so unexpected nettled Solomon Daisy not a lit? tle. By dint of relating the story very often, and ornanu n: in? it (according to village report) with a few flourishes, sug posted by the various hearers from time to time, be had come by degrees to ti 11 it with great effect ; and " Is that all .'" after tho climax, was not what he was accustomed to. "Isthat all!" he repeated; " yos, that's all. sir. And enough too, I think." " 1 think so too. Mv horse, young man. Hois but n hack, hinsl from a roadside posting-house, but he must carry me to London to-night." "To-night!" said Joe. ?? To-night," returned the other. " What do you stare at ? This tavern would seem to be a House ofCall for all the gap? ing idlers of the neighborhood!" At this remark, which evidently had reference to the scru? tiny he had undergone, as mentioned in the foregoing chapter, the eyes of .John VVillet and his friends were diverted with marvellous rapidity to tho copper boiler again. Not so with Joe; who, being a mettlesome fellow, returned the stranger's angry glance with a steady look, and rejoined : " It s uo; a very hold thing to wonder at your going on to? night; surely you have been asked such o harmless question in an inn before, and in betler weather than this. I thought you might n't know the way, as you seem ?tratige to this part. ' " The way?" repeated the other, irritably. ?? Yes. I to you know it 1" " 1 'II?humph!?! 'II fmd it," replied the man, waving his hand, and turning on his heel. " Landlord, take the reckon? ing here." .lohn Willen did as ho was desired, for on that point he was seldom slow, except in the ['articular of giving chance, and testing the goodness of any piece of coin that was prof? fered to him by the application of his teeth or his tongue, or some other test, or. in doubtful eases, iu a long scries of tests, terminating in its rejection. The guest then wrapped his gar? ments about him. so as to .-belter himself as effectually as he could from the rough weather, and, without any word or sign of farewell, betook himself to 'he stable-yard. Here Joe (who had left the room 0:1 the conclu-ion of their short dialogue.) was protecting himself and tho horse from the ruin under the shelter of un old pent-house row!". ?'He's pretty much of my opinion," said Joe, parting the horse :pon the neck " 1 'II wager that your stopping hi re to-night would please him better than it would please me." " II and I are of different opinions,as we have been mote lhan >nce on our way here,"' was the short reply. "'Sol was thinking before you came out, for he has felt >riur -purs, poor beast!" Tue stranger adjusted his coat-collar about his face, and made no answer. " You II know me again. I see." lie said, marking the young fellow's earnest care when he had sprung into the saddle. " The man's.worth knowing, mos? r, who travels a road he don't know, mounted on a jaded . orso, and leaves good quarters to do it on such a night as this." "?You have sharp eyes and a sharp tongue, I find." " Both, I hope, by nature; hut the last grows ru*tv some? times fur want of using:" " Use the first less, too, and keep their sharpness for your sweethearts, boy," said the man. So saying, he shook his hand from the bridle, struck him roughly on the head with the butt-end of his whip, and gal loped away; dashing through the mud und darkness with a headlong speed, which few badly-mounted horsemen would bu\e cared to venture, even had they been thoroughly nc quainled with the country, and which, to one who knew no? thing of the way he rode, was attended at every step with prent hazard and danger. The roads, even within twelve miles ol London, were at thai time ill-paved, seldom repaired, and very badly made ? The way this rider traversed hod been ploughed up by the wheels of heavy wagons, and rendered rotten by the frosts and thaws of the preceding winter, or probably of many win? ter-. Great holes and gaps had worn into the soil, which, being now tilled with water from th" late rains, wer1 not easily distinguishable, even by day; and a plunge into any one of them might h ive brought down a surer-footed horse than the poor beast now urged forward to the utmost extent of his powers. Sharp flints and stones rolled from under his hoofs continually; die rider could scarcely sec beyond the animal's head, 01 further on either side than his own arm would have extended. At that time, too. tili the roads in the neighborhood of the metropolis were infested by footpads or highwaymen, and it was a night, of all others, in which any evil-disposed person of this class might have pursued Iiis un? lawful calling w it'ti little fear of detection. Still, the traveler ! ishcd forward a: the -ante reckless pace, regardless alike of the dirt and wet which (lew about his head, ttv profound d irkncsi of the night, and the probability of en? countering some desperate characters abroad,. At every turn and angle, even where a deviation from the direct course might have been least expected, and could not possibly be teen until he was close upon it. he guided the bridle with an unerring baud, and kepi the middle of the road. Thus he sped onward, raising himself in the stirrups, leaning his body forward lu.ti! 1; almost touched the horse's neck, and flourishing his avj whip above his head with the fervor of' a madman. There ore times when the elements, being in unusual com motion, those who are bent on daring enterprises, or agitated by great thoughts, whether of good or evil, feel u mysterious -sympathy wuii the tumult of nature, und are roused into obr responding violence. In the midst of thunder, lightning, and -storm, tunny tremendous deeds have been committed; me .. ?oli-ppssjcsscd before, have given a sudden loose to nas-i. ns they could no longer control. THc demons of wrath awl de? spair have striven t.. emulate the^e who ride the whirlwind and direct the storm; and man. lashed into madness, with the tearing wind* and boiling waters, has become for the ne a* wild ami merciless as the elements themselves. Whether the traveler was possessed by thoughts which the fury of the night had heated and stimulated into a quicker current, or was merely impelled by some sine ; motive to reuch his journey's end. on he swept more like ..hunted phan? tom than u man, nor checket! Iiis pace until, arriving at some cros?n>ads, one of which led by a longer route to the place whence he had lately started; be bore down so suddenly on a vehicle which was c uning toward him, that, in the effort to avoid it, he well-sigh pulled, his h/rsc upon his haunches, and narrowly escaped ! ?< ing thrown. " Yoho !" cried the voice of a man " W hut's thai 7 who goes there T" A friend!" replied the traveler. " A frieml!"' repeated the voice. " Who the devil calls himself a friend, and rides like that, abusing Heaven's gift., in th>->haie uf bors Ccs'-, an.! endangering not only his own " ? clcoirc von to unJ< r?(and ihe trnc pi neck, which might bo no groat matter, but the necks of other poopl?- .'" , " V'?u have n lantern thete. I see," said the traveler, dis? mounting; ''lend it me for a moment. You have wounded mj horse, I tliink. with your shaft orwheck" ?? Wounded him1" cried the other; "if I haven't killed ; him. it "s no fault of yours. What d:> you mean by galloping I along the king's highway like that, eh ?" j '?(.live me the light." returned the traveler, snatching it from his hand, " and don't ask idle questions of a mar; who is in :i" tn."'cl for talking." ?? If you had said you were in no mood fur talking before, . I should, perhaps, have been in n<> mood for lighting," said the voice; "hows ever, a* it 's the poor horse that's dam? aged, and not you, one of vou is welcome to the light, at all I events: but it's not the rru-tv on?." The traveler returned do answer to this speech, but. bold , iriir the light near to his panting and reeking beast, examined j him in limb und carcase. Meanwhile, the other man sat very , composedly in his vehicle, which was a kind of chaise, with a depository for a large bag of tools, and watched hi* pro I ccodings with a careful eye. The looker on was a round;rod-faced, -turd;, yeoman, with I a double chin, and a Toiee husky with good-living, good-sleep ' ing. good humor, ami good health. He was past the prime ? of iife, but Father Time is not always a hard parent, and, though he tarne? for none of his children, often lavs his hand i lightly upon those who have used him well, making them old men and women inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits young, and in full vigor. With such people the grey head is but the impression of the old fellows hand in giving them his blessing, and ever.- wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life. The person whom the traveler had so abruptly encountered was of this kind?bluff, hale, hearty, and in a green old age, ? at pence with himself, and evidently disposed tn bo so with ; all the world. Although muffled up in divers cats and cloaks ?one of which passed over his crown and tied in a convenient ; crease of his double chin, secured his three-corned hat and bob-wig from blowing oft" bis head?there was no disguising his plump and comfortable figure; neither did certain dirty finger-marks upon his face give it any other than an odd and comical expression, through which its natural good humor shone with undiminished lustre. " He i- not hurt." said the traveler n: length, raising his head and the Jiirlit together. ?? You have found that out nt la<t, have you?" rejoined the old man. " My eyes have seen more light than yours, but I would n't change with vou." " What dn you mean ?" "Mean.' 1 could have told you be was n't hurt five min , utes ago. Give me the light, friend : ride forward at a gen? tle pace, nnd good night!" In handing np the lantern, the man necessarily cast its rays full on the speakers face. Their eyes met at the instant.? He suddenly dropped it and crushed it with bis foot. " Saw you never a locksmith before, that yon start as if you i had come upon a ghost?" cried the old man in the chaise; I "ori- this," be .added hastily, thrusting his hand into the ; tool-basket, and drawing out a hammer, "a scheme for rob ? long mo? I know these roads, friend. When [travclthem I I rnrry nothing but a few Shillings, and not a crown's worth j of them. J tell you plainly, to snve us both trouble, that j there '- nothing to be got from me but a pretty strong arm, ; considering my years, and this tool, which mayhap, from long j acquaintance with. I can use pretty briskly. You ?.hall not : have it till your own way, I promise you. if you play at that game.'* With these words hi' stood upon the defensive. " 1 am not what you take me for, Gabriel Vardon," said the other. ''Then what and who are you?" returned the locksmith. *? Vou know my name, it seems. Let me know yours." " i have not gained the information from any confidence of ! yours, but from the inscription on your cart, which tells it to ! all the town." replied the traveler. I ? " You have better eyes for that than vou have for your horse, then," said Vardon, descending nimbly from bis chaise. " Who an- you ? Let me sei; your face." While the locksmith alighted", the traveler had regained his saddle, from which he now confronted the old man. who, i moving as the horse moved in chafing under the tightened 1 rein, kept close behind him. ?? I.et me see your face, I say." ?'Stand of!!"" ; " No masquerading tricks.'" said the locksmith, " and tab s j a: the dub to-morrow how Gabriel Yard on was frightened : bv a surly voice and a dark night. Stand .' Let rno sec vour face!" I Finding that further resistance would only involve him in a personal struggle with an antagonist by no means to be dc ' spise,l, the traveler threw back bis coat. and. Stooping down, I looked steadily at the locksmith. I Perhaps two men more powerfully contrasted, never op ! posed each other face to face. The ruddy features of the locksmith so set off anil htghtcned the excessive pallor of i the man on horseback that be looked like a bloodless ghost. 1 while the moisture, which hard riding had brought out upon j bis skin, hung there in dark and heavy drops, like dews of I agony and death. The countenance of the old locksmith j was lighted up witii the smile of one expecting to detect in ' tiii- unpromising stranger, some latent roguery of eye or lip ? which should reveal a familiar person in that arch disguise, I an.! spoil bis jest. The face of the other, sullen anil tierce. '. but shrinking too. was that of a man who stoo l at bay; w hile his firmly-closed jaws, his puckered mouth, and. more than ail, u certain stealthy motion of the hand within his breast, seemed to announce a desperate purpose very foreign ' to acting or child'- piny. Thus they regarded each other for some time in silence. '?Humph.'" he said, when he had scanned his features. ' '? I do n't know you." ?? Don't desire to ?" returned the other, muffling himself j as before. " I don't." said Gabriel. "To be plain with you. friend. ' vou don't carry in your countenance a letter of recommend j ation." " It 's not my wish," said the traveler. " My humor is to be avoided." ?? Well." said the locksmith bluntly, " I think you'll have j your humor." ?? I will, at any cost,"rejoined the traveler. " In proof of i it, lay this to heart?that you were never iu such peril of ! vour life as you have been within these few minutes ; when I vou are within ten minutes of breathing your la-t. you will : not be nearer death tiian you have been to-night !" ; " Ay!" said tin' sturdy locksmith. ?? Ay! and a violent death." " From whose hand ! I " From mine." ivplie.i the traveler. With that iie put spurs to his horse, and rule away : at first ; plashing heavily through the mire at ? stn^tt trot, but gradti : ally increasing in speed until the la-t sound of his horse". Iioofs died away upon the wind, when he was ngnin hurrying ! on at the same furious gallop which had been his pace when 1 the locksmith fir*t encountered him. CHAPTER III. Gabriel Vardon remained standing in the road with the broken lantern in his hand, listening in stupifted silence until no sound reached hi- ear but the moaning of the w ind and the lost-falling rain, when he struck himself one or two smart I.lows in the breast by way of rousing himsclt, and broke into j an exclamation of delight. " What iu the name of wonder can this fellow be ?? i mad 'man? a highwayman t a cut-throat! If Ik bad not scoured j off -io fast, wo'd'havc s.-on who was in mos. uager. he or 1. ! I never was nearer death than I have been to-aight.' I hope : I may be no nearer to it finTascore of years to come; if so, 1 I 'il be content to be no further from it. My stars! A pretty ! brig this to a stout man?pooh, po.ih ' t Gabriel resumed bis seat, and. looking wistfully up the road i by which the traveler ha 1 co no. murmured in u half whisper: " The Maypok?two miles to the Maypole. I came thi j other road from the Warren ?few a 1 nig day's work at locks ! and balls, on purPo*o tha I should n it o m ? fy the Maypol -inciplc? of the (.oTfrnmrnt. I winh them <:irrieii VFW-YORK. SATURDAY, APRIL It. and break my promise u> Martha by looking'in?there's res - lution.' It would be dangerous to go on to London without a light, and it 's four miie?. and a good half-mile besides; to the Halfway-house, and between tiii- and that is the very place where one needs a light mo-:. Two miles to the Maypole ' I told Martha I wouldn't; I said I wouldn't, and I didn't? :h.-ro '- resolution .' " Repeating these two la-t word; very often, as if to compen sate for the little resolution he was going to show by piquing himself on the great resolution he bad shown, Gabriel Vardon quiedy turned haek. determining to :-i a fight a: the Maypole, and to take n.'thing but a light. When ho got to the Maypole, however, and Joe, respond? ing to his well-known hail, came running out to the horse's head, leaving the floor open behind him. and disclosing a delicious perspective of warmth an 1 brightness?when the ruddy gleam of the fire, streaming through the old rod curtains of the common room, teemed to bnng with it. as part of itself, a pleasant hum of voices, and a fragrant odor of -teaming grog and rare tobacco, all -teeped as it were in the cheerful glow?when the shadows flitting across trie cur? tain show , d that those inside had risen from their snug seats, and were making room in the snuggest corner (how- well he knew that corner!) for the honest locksmith, and a broad gl ir* suddenly -treaming up bespoke the goodness of the crackling log from which a brilliant ttain of sparks was doubtless at that moment whirling up the chimney in honor of his coming?when. ? iporadded to these enticements, there stole upon him from the distant kitchen a gentle sound of frying, with a musical clatter of plates and dishes, and a savory smell that made even the boisterous wind a perfume. ' Gabriel felt his firmness oozing rapidly away. He tried to ; look stoically at the tavern, hut hi* features would relax into [ u look of fondness. He turned his head the other way. and , the cold, black country seemed to frown him oW, and to drive ; ?' him f.r a refuge into its hospitable arms. ?? The merciful man. Joe." said the locksmith, " i- merci? ful to his beast- 1 II get out for a little while." And how natural it was to get out! And how unnatural it ' seemed for a -ober man to be plodding wearily along through miry roads, encountering the rude buffets of the wind and ' pelting of" the rain, when there was a clean floor covered with ' crisp white snnd, a well-swept hearth, a blazing tire, a table dee..rated with white cloth, bright pewter flagons, and other : tempting preparations for a well-cooked meal?w-nen there j were these things, and company disposed t" make the most of them, all ready to his hand, and entreating him toeajdymcnt! Such were the locksmith's thoughts when first seated in | the snug corner, and slowly recovering from a pleasant defect 1 of vision?pleasant, because occasioned by the wind blowing | in his e;.es. which made it a matter of sound policy and duty j to himself, that he should take refuge from the weather, nnd tempted him for the same reason to aggravate a slight cough. ' and declare he felt hut poorly. Such weru still his thoughts for more than a full hour afterward, when, supper over, he -till -at with shining jovial face, in the same warn nook, listening to the cricket-like chirrup of little Solomon Haisv, and hearing no unimportant or slightly respected part in the social gossip round the Maypole tire. ?? 1 wish he may l>e. an honest man. tint 's all." said Solo? mon, winding up a variety of speculations relative to the stranger, concerning whom Gabriel had compared notes with the company, and so raised a grave discussion; ''/wish he may In- an honest man." '? Si, we all do, 1 suppose, don't wc ' " observed the lock? smith. '? I don't." <aid Joe. ?? No ! " cried Gabriel. " No. lie struck me withrhis whip, the coward, when he was mounted, and 1 afoot, and I should be better pleased that fie turned out what 1 think him." ?' And what may that be. Joel" " No good, Mr. Vardon. You may -hake your head, father. ' but I -ay no good, and will say no good, and 1 would say no 1 good a hundred times over, if that would bring him back to have the drubbing he deserves." " Hold your tongue, sir." said John Willct. '? 1 ?im \ father. It 's all alnng of you that he dared to do ' w hat he did. Seeing me treated like a child, and put down I like a fool, he plucks up a heart and has a. fling at a fellow | that he think-?and may well think too?hasn'? a grain of -piiit. Hut he's mistaken, as I'll show him. and as I'll show all of you before long." '? Docs the boy know what he's a saying of? " cried the ? j astonished John Willet. ' " Father," returned Joe. " I know what I say, and mean | I well?better than you do when you hear me. I can hear | with you. but I cannot bear with the contempt that your : 1 treating me in the wav you do brings upon me Irom others everyday. Look at other young men of my age. Have they j no liberty, no will, no right to speak ' Are they obliged to -it mumchancc, and are they ordered about till they are the , laughing-stock of young and old! I'm a bye-word all over Chigwcll, and I say?and it's fairer my saying so now than ! waiting till you are dead, and I have got your money?I say I that before long I shall be driven to brenli such bounds, und I that when I do. it won't be me that you 'I! have to blame, but [ your own self, und no other." I John Willct was so amazed by the exasperation and bold nCSS of his hopeful son, that he sat as one bewildered, staring in a ludicrous manner at the boiler, and erid'-avoring. but quite ineffectually, to collect his tardy thoughts, and invent an an? swer. The guests, scarcely less disturbed, were equally at a loss, and at length with a variety of muttered, half-express? ed condolence, and pieces of advice, rose to depart, being at the same time slightly muddled with liquor. The honest locksmith alone addressed a few words of cohe? rent and sensible advice t" both parties, urging John Willet to remember that Joe was nearly arrived at man's estate, and should not !>?? ruled with too rich: a hand, and exhorting Joe hims.-lf to bear with hi- father's caprices and rather en? deavor to turn them aside- by temperate remonstrance than by ill-timed rebellion. This advice was received as such u-1 ricc usually is. On John Willet it made almost as much impression as on the sign outside the door, while Joe, who took it in the best part, avowed himself more obliged than he could well express, but politely intimated his intention, nevertheless, of taking his own course uninfluenced by any? body. ?? Y..;i have always been a very good friend to me. Mr. Vardon," he said, a- they stood w ithout the porch, and the locksmith was equipping himself for his journey homo; " I take it very kind in you to say all this, but the time's nearly come when the Maypole ami I must part company. " Rolling stones gather no moss. Joe." said Gabriel. ?? Nor mile-stones much." replied Joe. " I 'm little bettor than one here, and see about a.- much of the world." "Then what would you do. Joe >" pursued the locksmith, stroking his chin reflectively. ?? What could you be 1 where coull you go. you see?" ?? I must trust to chance, Mr. Vardon." " A bad thing to trust to, Joe. I do n't like it. I always tell my girl, when we talk about a husband for her, never to trust to chance, but to make sure beforehand, that -he has a giHxl man and true, and then chance will neither make her nor break her. What are yol! fidgeting about there, Joe J? N " g gone in the harness, I hojie ?" ?? No, no," said Jot?finding, however, something very en? grossing to do in the wav of-trapping ;uid buckling;.?" Mis, Dolly quite well T" " Hearty, thankve. She looks pretty enough to be well, and good too. " She "s always both, sir"? " So she i*. thank God !" " I hope"?said Joe, after some hesitation. 11 that you won't tell this story against me?this of my having been beat i:ke the boy they'd make of m".?a: all events, till I have met this man again and settled the account?it'll be a better story then." " Why, wh ? should I tell it too T" returned Gabriel, " They know i; here, and I'm not likely tu cerne across anybody else who would care abont it." That's true enough"?said the young ? Low, with a sigh. " I quite forgot that. Yes. that'; true :" tu I?I n?It nothing more.'*?Hawuso*, LS41. ?So saying; he m:-',(I hi- tuen, which was very red,?-no doubt trom the >'\. :;: ,r. of strapping and buckling a- afore -aid. and giving the rein- to the >'M man who had by ibis time taken his seat, sighed agn::i and hid him good night. ?? Good night.'" cried Gabriel. " Now think better o( what we have been speaking of. and don't be rash, there's a good fellow: I have an interest in vou and would ': have you cast yourself awav. Good night I" Returning hi- eh-er. farewell with cordial good will. Joe Willct lingered until the <onn<\ of wheels ceased to vibrate in his ear*, and tiien. shaking his Jj.-aii mournfully; ire-cntered ihe house. Gajriel V ardon wended iiis way toward- London, thinking of a great many things, and n:ost of all of flaming terms iu which to relate his adventure, and so account satisfactorily to Mrs. Vardon (or visiting the Maypole, despito certain solemn covenants between binkself and that lady. Thinking beget.-, not only thought, but drowsiness occasionally, ami the more the locksmith thought, the more sleeply he bet ante. A man may be very sober?or at leas: firmly set up his legs on that neutral ground which lies between the confines of perfect sobriety and slight tipsiness, and yet feel a strong tendency to mingle up present circumstances with others which have no manner of connexion with them : to c tnfbund all consideration of persons, things, times, and plnces ; and to jumble his disjointed thoughts together in a kind of mental kaleidoscope, producing combinations as unexpected as thev are transitory. This was Gabriel Vardon's slate, as nodding in his dog sleep, and leaving his horse to pursue a road with which ho was well acquainted, he got over the ground un? consciously, and drew nearer and nearer home, lie had roused himself once when the horse stopped until the turn? pike gato was opened, and hail cried a lusty "good night" to the toll-keeper, but then he woke out of a dream about pick? ing a lock in the stomach of the great Mogul, and even when it ? did wake, mixed up the turnpike man with his mother-in law who had been dead twenty years. It is not surprising, therefore, that he soon relapse,!, and jogged heavily along, quite insensible to his progress. And now he approached the great city, which lay out? stretched before him like a dark shadow on the ground, red? dening the sluggish air with a deep dull light, that,told of la? byrinths of public ways and shops, and swarms of busy peo? ple. Approaching nearer and nearer yet, this halo began to tade and the causes which produced it slowly to developc themselves. Long lines of lighted streets might be faintly traced, with her.- arid there a lighter spot where lamps were clustered about a square or market or round some great building; after a time these grew more distinct, and the lamps themselves risible?slight yellow specks that seemed to be rapidly snuffed out one by one as intervening obstacles hid them from the sight. The sounds arose?the striking of church clocks, the distant bark of dogs, the hum of traffic in the streets; then outlines might be traced?tall steeples looming in the xir, and piles of unequal roofs oporessed by chimneys; then the noise swelled into a louder sound, and forms grew more distinct and numerous still, .and London? visible in the darkness by its own fain.: light, and nut by that of Heaven?was a; baud. Tiie locksmith, however, all unconscious of its near vicini? ty, still jogged on, half sleeping and half waking, when a loud cry at no great distance ahead, roused him with a -turt. For a moment or two he looked about him lik< a man who bad been transported to some Strange country in his sleep, but soon recogni.-itig familiar objects, rubbed his eyes lanlv and might have relapsed again, but that the cry was repeated, not once, or twice, or thrice, but many time.,, and each time, if possible, w ith increased vehemence. Thoroughly aroused, Gabriel who was a bold man and not easily daunted, made strait to the spot, urging on his -tout little horse as if for life or death. The matter indeed looked sufficiently serious, for, coming to the place whence the cries had proceeded, he descried the figure of a man extended in an apparently lifeless state upon the pathway, and hovering round him another person with a torch in his hand, w hich he waved iu the air with a w ild im? patience, redoubling meanwhile those cries for help which had brought the locksmith to the spot. "What".- here to do V -aid tiiu old man. lighting.? '? Ilo? '< this?what?Barnaby !" The bearer of the torch shook his long loose hair back from his eyes, and thrusting his fai.agerly into that of the lock? smith, fixed upon him a look which told his history at once. He was an idiot. " You know me. Barnaby, '" said Vardon. The idiot nodded?not once or twice, hut ascoro of times, and that with h fanatic exaggeration which would have kept his head in motion for an hour, but that the locksmith held his fmger and fixing his eye sternly upon him cousedhim to desist, then pointed to the body with an inquiring look. "There's blood upon him," said Barnaby with a shudder. ?? It make- me sick." " How came it there .'" demanded Vardon. "Steel, steel, steel!" replied the idiot fiercely, imitating with his hand the thrust of a sword. " Ts ho robbed ?" said the locksmith. Barnabycaught him by the arm, and nodded "Yes;" then pointed towards the city. "Oh!" said the old man. bending over the body and look? ing round as he spoke into Barnaby's pale lace, strangely lighted up bv something which was not intellect. " The rob? ber made off that way, .lid he ! Well, well, never mind that just now. Hold your torch this way?a little further off? so. Now stand quiet while I try to see what harm is don-." With these word-, he applied himself to a closer examina? tion of the prostrate form, while Barnaby, holding the torch as ho had been directed; looked on in silence, fascinated by interest or curiosity, but repelled nevertheless by some strong and secret horror w hich convulsed him in every nerve. As be stood at that moment half shrinking back and half bending forward, both his face and figure were full in the strong glare of the link, and as distinctly revealed as though it had be.-n broad day. He was about three and twenty years old. and though rather spare, of a fair bight; and strong make. His hair, of which he had a great profusion, was red. and hanging in disorder about bis face and shoulders, gave to his wiid and rest! sss looks an expression quite unearthly?en? hanced by the paleness of his complexion and the glassy lustre of iiis large, pr .trading eyes. Startling as his aspect was, the ! features w.-re good, and there was something plaintive in bis ' wan and haggard look. Rut the absence of the sou! is far more terrible in a living man than a dead one, and in this un i fortunate being its noblest powe rs were wanting. * His dress was of green, clumsily trimmed here and there? , apparently by his own hands?with gaudy lace; brightest I where the cloth was worn and soiled, and poorest where it ; wa- the best. A pair of taw dry Mittles dangled at his wri-ts. ! while his throat was nearly bare. He had ornamented his ? hat with a cluster of peacock's feathers, but they were limp and broken and now trailed negligently down his back; girded to his side w as the steel hilt of aa eld sw ord without blade or scabbard; and some parti-colored ends of ribands and poor glas- toys completed the ornamental portion of his i attire. The Buttered and confused ?Iisposition of the motley ' scraps that formed hi-dress bespoke in a scarcely less degree ' than his eager and unsettled ranncr, the disorder of bis mind, and bv a grotesque contrast set off and (tightened the ( more impressive wiklness of his face. ?? Barnaby/' said the locksmith, after a hasty but careful inspection j "this man is not dead, but be has a wound in his ' side, and is in a fainting fit." " I know him. 1 know him!" said Barnaby. clapping bis . hand.-. ?? Know him !" repeated the iook-mith. ?? Hush !" -aid Barnabv. laving his finger on hi-hps. '? He i went out:o-dav a wooing." I wouldn't tor a light guinea that i ho should ever go a wooing again, for i- ho did some eyes , would crow dim that are now as bright as?sec, when I talk j of eyes the stars come out. Whose eye, are they I It they 1 are angel's eves, why do they look down here anil see goo<J I men hurt and only wink and sparkle all the night?" ' ?? New G id help this silly fellow," murmured the perplex I ed locksmith. " Can he know this gentleman I His mother'' I hous*' is not far off: I bad better see if she can tell me whi OFFICE N O. 3 0 A N N - S T VOL. I. NO. 7. he is Barnaby, my man. help me to put him in the chaise, and we 'ii ride home together. -lean": touch him." cried the idiot, faffing back, and shuddering a- with a -rrr>ng sp^m; .. },,.>< bloo^i" ?? It '.< in hi- nature. I know." muttered the locksmith." it's cruel to ask aim, but I m ist have help?Barnshy?good Bar iby?d. m Barnaoy?:! you know ,|?, ^nth-niait. tor the sake of his life and every body's life that loves him. help me to raise him and lay him down." ? (..'over him up then, wrap him dose?don't lor me see it ? smell it?hear tue word. l>o n't speak the word?do n't." "No, no, I'll not. There, you see he's covered now._ Gently. Well done, well done." They placed him in rhe carriage with great care, tor Bar? naby was Strong and active, but all the rime they were so oc? cupied he shivered from head to foot, and evidently expe? rienced such an ccstacy of terror that the locksmith could scarcely endure to witness his suffering. This accomplished, and the wounded man covered with Vardon's ownjgreat coat, which he took ort' for the purpose, they proceeded onward at a brisk pace : Barnaby gaily ?mat? in.; tin- ?tars upon his fingers, and Gabriel inwardly congratu? lating himself upon having an adventure which ivauld now silence Mrs. Vardon upon the subject of the Mavpole for that night, or there was no faith in woman. The Itama.v Isousitiov.?The inquisition here in the city of Venice, aided by official informer and secret tribunals, became one of the most cruel engines of tyranny ever known, perhaps, under ar.y government. No man's life, or liberty, or property, was secure. When any fell under suspknon, they were privately arrested, and in most cases they were heard of no more. Everything was conducted w ith the most profound secrecy?the accused victim knew not the secret tongue that betrayed him, or the secret hand that (tabbed him. Near the palace, and separated only by a canal is a prison; this prison is connected with the palace by a high covered bridge, called the Bridge of Sighs. This bridge has. or had. for it is now closed up, two passes; one leading from the prison into the council chambers, and another leading to other more private apartments and dungeons under the palace itself. These dungeons were also accessible from the palace by a Secreet passage, which was unknown to the public until the arena of those apartment-, of death were laid open by the French. Indeed, it is said, that the citizens generally did not know of the existence of these wretched colls.. Hero the trembling victims were led to die torture and to death. We visited these gloomy prisons; they were dark as night, ; and consisted each of one arch of heavy masonry, with a sin j gle bole for the purpose of respiration, &C. They hud !>oen 1 generally lined with wood, but Napoleon permitted the citi ; /ens to enter and tear out all that was moveable in these ' horrid cells; Here was a grated window, where the victims used to be strangled, fhey were seated upon a block within, ! und a rope fastened at one end. passed through the grate and I round the neck, ami out again to a machine, by the turning of ! which the hcu.il and shoulders were drawn up to the jrrato, ; and the poor "wretch wus strangled by the cord that passed : round his neck. Another place was fitted up tor decapita . tion. like a guillotine. The heaw knife, fitted to a frame, ' was raised by machinery to the proper distance, (the victim j being fixed in a right position,) when it fell and struck the j hea l from the body, and a trench in the stone, ami hol??? made for the purpose, conveyed the blood down into the water below. All this was done by night, and with the ut? most privacy; and hen-were the little arches in the w?hl j where the executioner placed his lamp while he performs] j bis blood - work. Piak's Travel, iu Europe. Thi ArtVANTAtsE or Pisaiivastaiiks.?It is a sad trnth, I savs olio of our liveliest writers, but we are forced to acknowl? edge it, in this world a man's greatest merits orfl in his de | fects. i nil possible faults, the most precious, und that which should be most carefully cultivated, is impudence. It is a fortune in itself. Next comes rillitUU. It you nro[only a little weak in the upper story, you need not fear; you are a made man. You have two sons?brothers or cousins, as the case may be. Cine is full of courage, activity and sense, and von aay, ""Ah, I have no fears about him?ho can take can- of himself ! " The other is a fool, or nearly so, helpless and silly. The question is anxiously debated, " What can we do with Augustus ? he has not tense enough to get along in the world;" and therefore he get-, a snug place undergov ernment, a commission in the army, or a fat living. Irrita? bility is an excellent fault. A very irritable person is always treated with attention. So is obstinacy ami brutality. A viiv lent rage is an answer to every argument, a threat a sure way to obtain a favor. Impertinence, too, is very well, though dangerous 'it times. Luckily, insolent people possess a won? derful instinct; they manage their failing with infinite art; they know exactly as to time, place and person, when to om ! ploy it, and when not. But if it is of service to have faults, ; what a disadvantage to have good qualities ? Dignity makes ! you a hundred enemies. It is letter to be familiar and mean than dignified and reserved. Goodness of heart does not exactly injure its owner, but it makes him contemptible. Im? partiality makes a hermit of you ; to he impartial is to bo suspected. But of all virtues, that to which no mercy is shown, that winch poisons all happiness, that which is never par? doned is delicacy?a fatal merit, which is an insult to all who do not possess it. No wonder, then, that faults abound, when they are a passport to wealth, to consideration, und to hap? piness ! Trje Discovirt or the TsXESCOPR.?Galileo placed at tie- ends "i a leaden tube two special Ic glasses, both of which were plain on ottesidc, while one of them had it.-, other side convex, and the other it- second tide concave, and' having applied his eye to the concave glass, he saw ob jecta pretty iarge ami pretty near him. This little instru? ment, which magnified only three times, be carried in tri? umph to Venice, where it excited the most intense interest. Crowds "f the principal Citizens (lucked to hi.- house to tee the magical toy ; and after nearly a month had been spent in gratifying this epidemical curiosity. Galileo was led to under -tand from Leonardo Deodati, the H?ge of Venice, that the Senate would be highly gratified by obtaining possession of so extraordinary an instrument. Galileo immediately com? plied with the wishes of bis patron-, who acknowledged tho present by a mandate conferring upon him for hle'his Pro? fessorship at Padua, and generously raised hi-salary from 520 to 1,000 tiorins. .Sir D. Brewster*! Martyr-of .Science. Li id.?Dr. Owen, who was appointed by Government to explore the Mineral lands of Iowa and Wis.-on.-in Territfl ries, State? that thev produce no-* nearly as much l'-ad as the whole of Europe, with the exception of Greal Britain ; and arc capable of yielding as much as all Europe, Great Britain included. . No I.-,, than 5,000 pigs of Mis<oun lead were shipped to China last year to be used as lining.for tea-chests. Too Much Troth.?A young lady lately observed: ' Whea I eo to the theatre, I am very careless of my dress, as the at> dience are too attentive to the play to observe my wardrobe; but when I %o to church, I am very particular in my outward appearance, a-- most people go then; to soo how their neigh? bors dress and deport themselves.' Wor'.dlt Pursuits.?The wishes an 1 aspirations of our youth, are iikc columns of smoke, which, at first rise op toward the clouds, and then sink and sail along parallel to the '? irth. N- V. Mirror. ? WoMAK?A mother, the cherishes and corrects us; a sister, she coiisuIls and cevnsels us ; a sweetheart; she cap? tivates and conquers us ; a wife -he comforts xnd confides ia us ; without her what would become ol us I F.MKSDATton ar a Bachhi-or.?A mother, the scolds and spanks us; a sister, she tells of and pinches u-; a iwee* heart, (be coquets and jilts us; a wifi, -h ? frowns, frets,cries, and torrr-errts us; without her, wuat woulo ttu be to trouble us ? BulWo Republican