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Sunday dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1845-1854, May 27, 1849, Image 1

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VOLUME 4, NO. 26.
Innocence nnir (ftnilt, Jftgsterg, Cove anb (tfrime.
Being actual events which have come to light in the City of Aeta York,
during the latter part of the year 1848 ;
When consciousness returned to the un
happy girl, she found Kate Dashall bending
over her and bathing her head with spirits
of camphor. The presence of the fallen and
abandoned one immediately recalled Mary
Eustis to the terrible reality of her po
“ How long have I been insensible,” she
asked, looking up into Kate’s face with an
expression of gratitude, for now the poor
girl felt that her only friend was the unfor
tunate woman who was ministering to her.
“ Hush,” said Kate, speaking m a whisper,
“ the house has just got quiet. I ceuld not
Lome to you before. I saw Ecklin go out,
and tried to steal away, but Mrs. Evans
would not let me quit the parlor. It is now
nearly two o’clock in the morning.”
' “ Mary saw that Kate was in her night
clothes. “ You have been to bed, then,” she
said inquiringly.
“ Yes, but net to sleep,” Kate answered.
“ I had to go to bed to quiet the suspicions
of that horrible old woman, who may be
awake even now. The moment I dared to
venture out, I did, but your door was
“ And how did you get into the room,” de.
manded Mary.
“ I went to the housekeeper's room—she
has a skeleton key which opens every door in
.the room. She was tipsy before she went
to bed. I found her sleeping soundly and
borrowed her key.”
“And what shall I do,” Mary demanded,
with an earnestness and in a voice thas start
led her companion.
“ The first thing for you to do, Miss Eus
tis, is to take care of your tongue,” Kate re
sponded, somewhat tartly. There are people
in this house who sleep with one ear and one
eye open. Sleep here is not the sleep which
you have been accustomed to. It is a trou
bled, anxious, apprehensive sleep, easy to be
broken. I beseech you to be quiet, if not
for your own sake, for mine. I would help
you to escape.”
“ Escape,” Mary exclaimed, but this time
in a voice more low and guarded—“ 0 yes,
help me to escape from this dreadful place.”
“ Where will you go to, my poor child,”
Kate whispered.
“ Into the street, surely I shall be safer
there than here. Nobody will molest a
friendless girl in the street. But if they do,
I can call to the watch.”
“ Alas,” said Kate, in a tone of sympathy,
“ you do not know this city of New York.
But,” she added, after a moment’s pause, “ it
is the only chance. Now will you listen to
me and do as I say ?”
Mary motioned an assent.
“ Well then, Kate continued, “ I will let
you out at the basement door—the hall door
is double locked and chained, it could not be
opened without alarming the house —and the
moment ysu get into the street, follow it up
until the first turning ; keep along that street
for two or three blocks, and you will come
to one that crosses it. Turn to the left, and
walk straight up for a few minutes, and you
will come to a wide street—that is Broadway.
Can you remember ?”
“ 0 yes—go on, go on.”
“ If you meet any man before you get to
Broadway, avoid him if possible. If any
should stop you, call for help. But try to
pass along unobserved. When you get into
Broadway, hide in some door-way, or under
some stoop, until daylight, and then inquire
your way to the Tombs. Now do you think
you can do this ?”
“ 1 will try,” Mary said, “ but why will
you not go with me? Surely you are too
good to stay in such a horrible place.”
“ I have answered that question once al
ready,” Kate returned. “ Enough that I
will not go with you, though I will gladly
help you to go. But come, get up, we have
no time to spare.”
“ Had I not better take some of my clothes
with me ?” Mary enquired.
“No, no—that would cause your arrest.
If you were seen at this hour with a bundle
in your hand, you would be taken up as a
thief. With only your bonnet and shawl on,
people will suppose you to be only—only a—
a—you know—only one of us. If you get
safe to the Tombs, in the morning tell the
judge your story, and demand his protection.
Give him this paper—l have written on it
the name of Mrs. Evans, the street she lives
in, and the number of this house. Now for
the start 1”
As Kate spoke, she raised Mary from the
bed, put on her hat and shawl, and hurried her
from the room. Softly descending two flights
of stairs, Kate drew back the bolt which
fastened the door, and passed into the
airy in front. The iron gate was secured by
a padlock. There was nothing left but for
Mary to scale the fence. With the aid of
her companion, this feat was speedily accom
plished, and she stood on the sidewalk.
“ Now remember what I have told you,”
Kate whispered as she clung to the fence.
“Avoid every man you meet, if possible.”
“Yes—but let me kiss you before we
part,” Mary whispered, bursting into tears
in spite of all her efforts to be calm—“ per
haps we shall never see each other again.”
“ And if we do not, and you are saved,”
Kate answered with an emotion that she
could not conceal,—" you will sometimes
think of me. And when our own sex, the
most cruel and unpitying towards those of
their sisters who have gone astray—when
you hear respectable women cursing such as
I am, you will remember Kate Dashall. You
need not defend her, or her class, but you
will pity us, and think that there may be a
little of good, amidst all of the evil of o«r
lives—enough of good perhaps to entitle us
to pity in heaven, although there is none for
us on earth I” The girl sobbed audibly, as
she spoke. Eyes there were, and pitying
eyes that looked upon that singular scene,
but. as .the girl had >aid, ’they were not of
earth ! There is no sympathy for the fallen
and degraded—society casts ruthlessly away
to shame and vice, souls only a little tainted
and which might be washed clean. Espe
cially is this true of woman. The world con
siders not that she was tempted, assailed,over
come through her own strongest affections, by
cunning and heartlessness—it is enough that,
whatever the cause, she has yielded. The
sentence goes forth—" Stand aside, I am bet
ter .than Jhou.”_ Pleasant, itjis _■ to believe,
that the judgements of earth are reversible
in heaven.
“The two girls were alarmed by the heavy'
tread of feet on the pavement. “Go now,
don’t lose another moment,” Kate gasped
out. “It is now no time for tears.”
Without another world, Mary Eustis
bounded away with the fleetness of the doe.
She was alone, at the loneliest hour of night,
a stranger in the streets—and yet how her
heart bounded with joy ! She was free, at
least for the present—she had escaped from
that hated place!. She flew through the
streets, guiding her course by the directions
which Kate had given her. When she
heard a footstep, she stopped and crouched in
some doorway. A drunken man reeled by.
He saw her not, and Mary gathered fresh
courage. Another passed ; still she was un
discovered and safe. Now she was sure she
would reach Broadway without interruption.
But there was another heavy step approach
ing, and Mary seeking for shelter, saw on the
opposite side of the street a door, half opened.
She did not notice that it was an engine
house, she bounded across the street, shot
through the door and was hid by the dark
ness within. The footsteps sounded louder
to her ear, they approaehed the door ; there
they stopped. Mary held her breath. The
door was opened wider and a man stood in
the passage.
“ I’ll swear,” he muttered, in a harsh, re
pulsive voice that fell on Mary’s heart like a
death knell—“ I’ll swear that a petticoat
slipped in here just now. Hallo, boys,” he
continued in a louder tone, turn up here and
give us a light—l have bagged some game,
up with you and show the signal lantern ?”
The cry aroused several young men, who
were sleeping in the room above, and they
rushed down the steep, narrow stairs, calling
out, “ Where is it, is’t a big fire, tumble
down boys.” In tin instant a dozen young
men, ready dressed —our New York firemen
rarely are undressed—stood in the engine
“ It’s no fire at all,” said the man who had
aroused them —but there’s a petticoat hid in
here somewhere, open the lantern, boys, and
let’s find her 1”
A flood of light, which instantly filled the
engine house, exposed our heroine, crouched
down in a corner, her head buried in the folds
of her dress.
“ A prize, a prize !” shouted a dozen voices
and as many men, rushed to the spot, and
with no tender hands but with many a bois
terous laugh, raided Mary from the floor. But
when her face was turned towards the light,
the smile vanished from their countenances
and their reckless, rough voices were stilled.
They saw a young girl, her face as pale as the
shadow of death, her eyes turned upon them
with an expression'of helplesness and entrea
ty, that touched their hearts.
“ I say Dick,” said one of the firemen, and
addressing the man who had given the alarm,
“ you’ve made a mistake; she's is not one of
'em— poor thing how pale she looks, and how
she trembles I Hand along a stool, boys,—
there Miss, sit down, ne danger ot any
harm to you—while No.—’s boys can use
their maulers in your defence. There now,
you’ll be fetter in a minute, and then we’ll
see you safe home.”
“ I have no home,” Mary faltered out, and
then the tears came to her relief.
“ And if you haven’t, some of us have, and
sisters to make them bright too—and you
shall be safe there. Come cheer up—Miss,
there’s no danger.” 4
It was a singular sight! A young beau
tiful girl, at that hour of the night, in the
midst of a group of rough looking men, not one
of whom offered a word or look of insult, but
every one of whom would have fought to the
last for her protection. The lantern which
hung from the centre of the ceiling, revealed
the ponderous engine, and in front of it, this
group of noble, manly faces, and the pallid,
tearful one which gave to them the expres
sion of pity and sympathy they wore.
“ Who lives nearest here ?” demanded the
last speaker, turning his eyes enquiringly
round as he spoke.
“ I am only two blocks off,” said one who
was familiarly called Charley—“ the old lady
is sick, and my sisters are sitting up with
her. But that’s all the better, because we
shan’t disturb nobody.” Then addressing
Mary he continued—" Miss, if you will go
to my mother’s house—it’s none the hand
somest, and our part of it is up two pair of
stairs at that—you’ll find a hearty welcome,
and two girls not older than yourself to give
it, besides an old woman, whose head has al
ways been sheltered by an honest roof.”
A half an hour later, and the wronged, trou
bled weary girl, was sleeping peacefully and
in safety, watched by two angels—so they
seemed to her —for the fireman’s sisters had
opened their hearts to her, and wept with
her, till with over weeping she sunk to rest.
It is necessary to return to Mr. Eustis, the
supposed father of our heroine, and seek
some explanation for his singular conduct.
That he should have protected this girl
from the day of her birth, kept religiously
the fatal secret, that involved not only his
own and his guilty wife’s honor, but the
position, name and destinies of the unfortu
nate child—and then (as Ecklin’s story in
terpreted and explained the letter, which
Mary’s governess had received and which
announced the death of Mary’s father') have
cast her off, was indeed strange, inexplica
ble. Yet it was entirely and simply true,
though Ecklin was ignorant of one important
fact, that Mr. Eustis had returned to Ji ten
York, and that the letter dispatched, to the
boarding school where Mary was a pupil, was
dictated word after word, by Mr. Eustis him
self, and that his agent had acted in the sim
ple character of an amanuensis, with the
single exception that he had affixed his own
signature to the missive, instead of the sig
nature of his principal.
Mr. Eustis’ motive in taking this singular
step, will be fully and clearly explained in
the progress of the narration. He had re-
• Ilia somnch the custom, in certain circlet, to
regard our firemen, who peril their lives, and waste
their healtn in the thankless and unrewarded duty of
preserving the property of the rich from thedavouring
element—it Is so much the custom, we say, to regard
our firemen, as rude, rough, heartless and brutalized
men, that it may be as well to remark that the scene
here descr. bed, is literally true—neither exaggerated
norover colored; and that the incident had Its oc
currence during the very last summer, down to which
period, our narrative has now bees brought.
turned to this city a changed man. His’hair
was no whiter than when he was introduced
to the reader in the first chapter of the nar
rative, but the wrinkles, and hard, sharp
lines, were graven deeper in his face. For
eight long years he had searched patiently
over the ’continent of Europe, for the man
who had wronged him, and whose life he
sought. At length he found the German, in
a small village in the South of France. He
recognised him in an instant; in an instant
he introduced himself; the false friend, who
had without doubt forgotten his adventures
in New York, shrank back aghast at the ter
rible recognition.
“ Now,” said Mr. Eustis, speaking with
that most fearful composure; which, like the
frightful stillness in the air, betokens the
fury of the tempest about to unloose itself,
“ now, sir, we have met at last. You know
my errand—are you ready ?”
“ I will not fight,” the German faltered
“ Then I will follow you from place to
place, I will heap upon you every indignity,
I will denounce you in every circle you dare
to enter, as a scoundrel and a coward ; I will
cleave to your foot prints, like your own
shadow —you shall know no peace, no quiet
sleep, no moment of undisturbed enjoyment,
unless you fight me.” This was the reply of
Mr. Eustis.
“ I will appeal to the laws for protection,”
answered the German.
“ Appeal to the laws !” retorted Mr. Eus
tis with a bitter sneer. “ Look you! lam
rich. I travel with letters of credit that
make me known in every place which I
choose to visit. You, you are poor, miser
able, the same adventurer you were, when
you polluted my house with your presence.
What will the laws do for you ? You dare
not face a magistrate. You shrink with a
guilty fear from justice. There is but one
way for you to escape me now—your release
can come only with my death. Will you
The wretch had no choice. Coward as he
was, he saw but one way of escape —and that
the way pointed out by Eustis. They met.
The German fell at the first fire, pierced by
a wound, which the surgeons pronounced
“ Are you sure, gentlemen, that he cannot
recover,” Mr. Eustis demanded with a fero
city that startled the professional men.
“ There is not an hour’s life in him,” was
the response.
Mr. Eustis fled. He had avenged himself.
“ The patient search and visit lone,
Of him who treasures up a wrong”—
had at last been rewarded. With a glad
shout, which could not be repressed, Mr.
Eustis took the route to Paris. There he
mingled in all the scenes of dissipation—and
men, used to strange scenes, stared to see
that white haired man, with that face writ
ten over with sorrow, the companion of
courtezans, the most reckless in the debauch!
“ Who is that old man,” they said, “ who
has not the apology of youth for the vices
which belong not to age ?”
But what cared Mr. Eustis ? His enemy
was dead. The black, bitter blood that had
curdled in the veins of the wronged man,
was let loose at last. Hate and injury, nursed
for eight long years, had at last been slaked,
and Mr. Eustis was young again. He no
longer trusted man, nor loved woman. He
had money to secure the one, and corrupt
the other! He had no friends, he wanted
none. And so he returned to New York—
despising his kind, mocking, with a blas
phemous mockery, all that men hold pure,
and good and sacred. But unknown to him
self, unknown to her, and in the mysterious
order of events, whose shaper is God, an an
gel followed in the dark and crooked path
where lay the lines of his life—an angel
whose mission it was, albeit she knew it not
then, to beat back the devil that lured him
on to death !
On the the night that Mary Eustis quitted
Mrs. Evans’ den of shame, Mr. Jiustis was
an inmate »f her house. The flight of the
young girl was discovered by Mrs Evans,her
self, early in the morning, and her cries of
alarm aroused every guilty sleeper. From
one of the rooms, half dressed, there rushed
a white haired man.
“ Peace woman !” he exclaimed, “ and tell
me what this noise means I”
“ I am ruined, I am ruined—ten thousand
curses fall upon the head of Ecklin,” was the
only response.
“ Ruined—Ecklin!” demanded the white
haired man, and there was a sudden sickness
at his heart, as he repeated these words —
“ what of him ?”
“He brought a girl here last night—a girl
that he had entrapped from a boarding school
in the country, and she has escaped, and will
expose us all.”
“ Pooh, pooh,” the white haired man an
swered with a boisterous laugh of contempt
and derision. “I suppose she came with
her own consent.”
“ Mary Eustis is not the girl to come here
of her own will,” another voice said. It was
Kate Dashall’s, who had joined the group.
“ Mary Eustis ! Ecklin!” shrieked the
white haired man. “ Great God, Great
God !”
And Mr. Eustis, for it was he, raised his
hands above his head, and fell with a dull,
dead, heavy weight, prostrate upon the floor.
[To be continued.]
A Rough Dicky.
Sir Richard Jebb was very rough and harsh
in his manner. He said to a patient to whom
he had been very rude, “ Sir it is my way."
“ Then,” replied the patient, pointing to
the door, “ I beg you will make that your
Sir Richard, being called upon to see a pa
tient who fancied himself very ill, told him
ingenuously what he thought, and declined
prescribing thinking it unnecessary.
“ Now you are here,” said the patient, “ I
shall be obliged to you Sir Richard, if you
will tell me how I must live, what may I eat,
and what not.”
“ My directions as to that point,” replied
Sir Richard, “ will be few and simple. You
must not eat the poker, shovel nor tongs, for
they are hard of digestion; nor the bellows,
because they are windy ; any thing else you
He was first cousin to Dr. John Jebb, who
had been a dissenting minister, well known
for his political opinions and writings. His
Majesty, George HI., used sometimes to talk
to Sir Richard concerning his cousin; and
ence, more particularly, spoke of his restless,
reforming spirit in the church, university,
physic, kc.
“ And please your majesty,” replied Sir
Richard, “if my cousin were in heaven, he
would be a reformer 1”
03- A jolly husband, not a thousand miles
from Bangor, who had been out on a “ bit of
a spree,” was saluted by his better half on
his return, with —“ 0, you Kard-hearted
wretch!” The husband meekly replied that
he didn’t think his heart could be very hard,
for he’d been “soaking it’’ for the last forty
eight hours!
Dp- Gold is the God of the world. Only
whisper the word, and its worshipers fall
down on their knees. Breathe it in the valley,
and it is heard at the mountain-top. Tell
wfiere it can be found, and the millions rush
to the spot faster than they would go to
Xiet us Give Thanks.
Let us give thanks, with grateful soul,
To Him who sendeth all;
To Him who bids the planets roll,
And sees a “sparrow fall.”
Though grief and tears may dim our joys,
And care and strife arrest,
’Tis man, too often, that alloys
The lot his Maker blest:
While sunshine lights the boundless sky,
And dew drops feed the sod—
While stars and rainbows live on high—
Let us give thanks to God.
We till the earth in labor’s health,
We plant the acorn cup;
The fields are crowned with golden wealth,
The green tree springeth up;
The sweet, eternal waters gush
From mountain and from vale;
The vineyards blush with purple flush,
The yellow hop leaves trail:
And while the Harvest flings its gold,
And cowslips deck the sod—
While limpid streams are clear and cold,
Let us give thanks to God.
The flower yields its odor breath,
As gentle winds gope.xL
The grass hopper thath rks beneath
Chirps merrily and fast;
The ring dove coos upon the spray,
The larks full anthems pour;
The bees start with a jocund lay,
The waves sing on the shore ;
Hosannahs fill the wood and wild,
Where human step ne’er trod ;
And Nature, like an unweaned child,
Smiles on its parent God.
Say, Brothers, shall the bird and bloom
Thus teach, and teach in vain ?
Shall all the love-rays that illume,
Be lost in clouds of pain ?
Shall hearts be dead and vision bl.'nd
To all that mercy deals ?
Shall soul and reason fall to find
The shrine where instinct kneels 1
Ah, no!—while glory lights the sky,
And beauty paints the sod—
While stars and rainbows live on high,
Let us give thanks to God.
DTehemet Ali.
A curtain was drawn aside, and we were
ushered at once into the presence of the
Viceroy, whom we found walking up and
down in the middle of a large room, between
two rows of gigantic silver candlesticks,
which stood upon the carpet. This is the
usual way of lighting a room in Egypt:—Six
large silver dishes, about two feet in diame
ter and turned upside down, are first placed
upon the floor, three on each side, near the
centre of the room. On each of these stands
a silver candlestick, between four and five
feet high, containing a wax candle three feet
long and very thick. A seventh candlestick,
of smaller dimensions, stands on the floor,
separate from these, for the purpose of being
moved about; it is carried to any one who
wants to read a letter, or to examine an ob
ject more closely while he is seated on the
divan. Almost every room in the palace has
an European chandelier hanging from the
ceiling, but I do not remember having ever
seen one lit. These large candlesticks, stand
ing in two rows, with the little one before
them, always put me in mind of a line of life
guards of gigantic stature, commanded by a
little officer whom they could almost put in
their pockets.
When we were seated on the divan we
commenced the usual routine of oriental
compliments; and coffee was handed to ns in
cups entirely covered with large diamonds.
A pipe was then brought to the Pasha, but
not to us. This pipe was about seven feet
long: the mouth-piece, of light green amber, :
was a foot long, and a foot more below the
mouth-piece, as well as another part of the
pipe lower down, was richly set with dia
monds of great value, with a diamond tassel
hanging to it.
We discoursed for three quarters of an
hour about the possibility of laying a railway
across the Isthmus of Suez, which was the
project then uppermost in the Pasha’s mind ;
but the circumstance which most strongly
recalls this audience to my memory, and
which struck me as an instance of manners
differing entirely from our own, was, in itself
a very trivial one. The Pasha wanted a
pocket handkerchief, and looked about, and
felt in his pocket for it, but could not find it,
making various exclamations during his
search, which at last were answered by an
attendant from the lower end of the room—
“ Feel in the other pocket,” said the servant.
“Well, it is not there,” said the Pasha.
“ Look in the other, then.” “ I have not
got a handkerchief,” or words to that effect,
were replied to immediately—“ Yes, you
have;” —“ No, I have not—Yes, you have.”
Eventually, this attendant, advancing up to
the Pasha, felt in the pocket of his jacket,
but the handkerchief was not to be found;
then he poked all round the Pasha’s waist, to
see whether it was not tucked into his shawl.
That would not do; so he took hold of his
sovereign and pushed him half over on the
divan, and looked under him, to see whether
he was sitting on the handkerchief; then he
pushed him over on the other side. During
all these manoeuvres the Pasha sat as quietly
and passively as possible. Toe servant then,
thrusting his arm up to the elbow in one of
the pockets of his Highness’s voluminous
trousers, pulled out a snuff-box, a rosary,
and several other things, which he laid upon
the divan. That would not do either; so he
came over to the other pocket, and diving to
a prodigious depth, he produced the missing
handkerchief from the recesses thereof; and
with great respect and gravity, thrusting it
into the Pasha’s hand, he retired again to his
place at the lower end of the hall.— Curzon’s
Visit to the Monasteries of the Levant.
Respect for Parents.
If children could realize but a small portion
of the anxiety their parents feel on their ac
count, they would pay far greater respect to
the parental wishes. A good child, and one
in whom confidence can be placed, is the one
who does not allow himself to disobey his pa
rents, nor to do any thing when his parents
are absent, that he has reason to believe they
would disapprove were they present. The
good advice of parents is often so engraven on
the heart of the child, that after years of care
and toil do not efface it; and in the hour of
temptation the thought of a parent has been
the salvation of the child, though the parent
may be sleeping in the grave, and the ocean
may roll between that sacred spot and the
tempted child. A small token of parental af
fection, borne about the person, especially a
parent’s likeness, would frequently prove a
talisman for good. A Polish prince was ac
customed to carry the picture of his father al
ways in his bosom; and on any particular oc
casion he would look upon it and say, “ Let
me do nothing unbecoming so excellent a fa
ther.” Such respect forefather or a mother,
is one of the best traits in the character of a
son or a daughter. “ Honor thy father and
thy mother, that it may be well with thee, is
the first commandment with promise,” says
the sacred Book, and happy is the child who
acts accordingly.
Honey and its Adulterations.
This substance is very often adulterated
with potato starch, flour of wheat, and bean
flour; the latter, however, is seldom employ
ed, on account of its taste ; these substances,
of organic origin, are employed to give brown
honeys a certain degree of whiteness, and to
add to their weight. Bodies of inorganic ori
gin are also employed for both these purposes,
and chalk and plaster of Paris are generally
used, as is also pipe-clay.
Starch-syrup and starch-sugar are alsojused
in bringing down the standard of honey; and,
lastly, cane-sugar of various kinds of pure
ness is admixed with the substance in ques
To detect potato starch, and matters of that
class, some of the honey is boiled in water,
and the cold solution tested with iodine.
Chalk, plaster of Paris and pipe-clay may
be shewn to be present, by mixing the honey
with a large quantity of water, as in the case
of the detection of those substances in lozenge*.
Beauty of Colors.—Nothing in nature
is more beautiful than her colors; every flower
is compounded of different shades. Almost
every mountain is clothed with herbs, differ
ent from the one opposite to it and every field
has its peculiar hue. Color is to scenery
what entablature is to architecture, and har
mony to language. Colors are indeed so fasci
nating that in the East there has long pre
vailed a method of signifying the passions,
which is called the love language of colors.
This rhetoric was introduced into Spain by
the Arabians.
Yellow, expressed doubt; black, sorrow;
green,hope; purple,constancy; blue, jealousy;
white, content; and red the greatest possible
satisfaction. In regard to mourning, it may
not be irrelevant to remark, that though most
Europeans mourn in black, the ancient Spar
tans, Romans and Chinese,mourned in white,
the Egyptians, in brown: the Turks, in
violet, while Kings and Cardinals indicate
their grief in purple.— Harmonies of Nature.
1 "'""'"fa —'as.-— ra— ; — ■ .
7 ‘ '
f __ ■

B ’ 7” ’1
The large steamboat Empire, of Troy, on
her trip upward, Thursday night the 17th
inst., was run into by the schooner Noah
Brown, a small, stout-built craft, having a
deck-load of lumber. The collision took
place when the two vessels were nearly op
posite Newburgh. There were two hundred
and fifty passengers on board the steamboat.
The steamboat settled at once in the water,
and, in less than eight minutes from the time
of the collision, sunk to her stateroom deck.
At the present time of writing, twenty bodies
have been found and four persons are known
to be missing. It is believed that not more
than twenty-five persons have lost their lives
by this deplorable catastrophe.
Buddhism was introduced and established
in Ceylon during the reign of Dewinepatisse,
the fifteenth king, and this event is supposed
to have taken place about 235 years after the
death of Buddha. Cingalese history states,
that a priest of Buddha, of extreme sanctity,
was sent by the monarch of a country, called
Maddadisay, which was situated eastward of
Ceylon, to convert the natives of Lanka Diva.
The priest met the king, Dewinepatisse, as
he was returning from hunting the wild ele
phant; the monarchand his train, unaccus
tomed to the sight of a man, with head and
eyebrows shaven, clad also tn a dress they
had never before seen—namely, the yellow
robes of a priest of Buddha, thought that a
spirit of evil stood before them, and not a
human being. The priest informed the king
for what purpose he had been sent to Ceylon,
and put the following queries to him, to ascer
tain if his mind were sufficiently enlightened
to understand the tenets of Buddhism: Have
you relations ? Many. Have you people not
related to you ? Many thousands ? Besides
your relatives, and those who are not related
to you, are there others in your realm ? There
are no others in my realm, but there is one
other, and that other one is myself. The
priest, being fully satisfied of the intellectual
capabilities of Dewinepatisse, by these prompt
and sapient replies, commenced a discourse,
illustrating in flowery language the sublimity
and purity of the religion and actions of
Buddha. The monarch listened attentively,
and, approving of the doctrines inculcated,
became a convert within a short period, many
of his subjects following his example. The
King of Maddadisay had given a branch of the
bo tree* to the priest, which was to be plant
ed in Ceylon, if the natives became converts to
Buddhism ; and in accordance with this com
mand, the branch was planted at Anooradha
poora, which was the ancient capital of Cey
lon, where it miraculously grew and flourish
ed : and the Cingalese now point out a bo
tree at Anooradhapoora, which they declare
to be the tree, originally brought into Ceylon.
The priest also brought part of the jaw of
Goutama Buddha, which Dewinepatisse caus
ed to be deposited in a dagobah, which was
120 cubits in height: wihares, or places of
worship, dedicated to the service of Buddha,
were built, and the national system of religion
was declared to be that of Buddha. Although
we disbelieve the miraculous growth of the
sacred tree, and many other fables connected
with the arrival of the first priest of Buddha
in Ceylon, still, from historical records, and
the magnificent ruins of wihares, and dago
bahs, that are to be seen at the ancient seat of
government—namely, Anooradhapoora—we
feel fully convinced, that it was in this part
of Ceylon that the first wihare, or temple of
Buddha, and the first dagobah, or edifice to
contain relics, were erected. It is a curious
and interesting fact, that in all countries,
where Buddhaical doctrines are followed; the
monumental buildings, which have been
erected to contain relicsf of Buddha, are in
variably of the same form—namely, a bell
shaped tomb, which is surmounted by a spire.
In Ceylon, these receptacles for the sacred
relics are built over a hollow stone or cell, in
which the relic is deposited, enclosed usually
in a thin plate of gold, or in a wrapper of
fine, white muslin ; with it are also deposited
images of Buddha, pearls, and gems. These
edifices in Ceylon are solidly built with bricks,
which are usually covered over with chunam;
and we subjoin an account of a dagobah which
was opened in 1820, near Colombo, by Mr.
Layard, the father of the enthusiastic ex
plorer, and talented author of Nineveh and
its Remains. In the centre of the dagobah,
a small, square compartment was discovered,
lined with brick, and paved with coral, con
taining a cylindrical mass of grey granite,
rudely shaped into a vase, orkarandua, which
had a closely-fitting cover or cap of thesame|.
This vase contained an extremoly small frag
ment of bone, pieces of thin gold—in which,
in all probability, the bone had originally
been wrapped—pieces of the blue sapphire,
and ruby, three small pearls, a few gold rings,
heads of cornelian and crystal, and pieces of
glass, which resembled icicles in shape. In
the compartment with the vase were also
placed a brazen and an earthen lamp, a small
truncated pyramid, made o f cement, and clay
images of the cobra capella, or hooded snake. 1
In an historical account of Ceylon, we read: —
“ The characteristic form of all monumen
tal Buddhistical buildings is the same in all
countries, which have had Buddha for their
prophet, lawgiver, or God; whether in the
outline of the cumbrous mouat, or in minia
ture within the labored excavation, the pecu
liar shape, although variously modified, is
general, and enables us to recognize the neg
lected and unhonored shrines of Buddha, in
countries where his religion no longer exists,
and his very name is unknown.”
The relic, which is considered most valu
able by rigid Buddhists, is the Dalada relic,
or tooth of Buddha,§ which was brought to
Ceylon during the reign of Kitsiri Majan,
from Northern India, by a princess, in the
year 310 of the Christian era; and in the
853rd year after the death of Goutama Buddha,
to prevent the relic falling into the hands of a
neighboring monarch, who had made war for
the express purpose of obtaining possession
of the Dalada. Buddhists affirm that in
whatever country the relic is to be found,
that country will be taken under the special
protection of Buddha; the nation, therefore,
becoming, in the estimation ot all professors
of Buddhisim, a sacred one—ttus Ceylon is
termed by the Cingalese, the sacred island.
The Cingalese believe also, that their coun
try never could been completely subjugated,
until a foreign power had obtained possession
of the relic. In 1818, Sir R. Brownrigg, after
the Kandian rebellion, tool possession of the
Dalada relic, and Dr. Davy, who was in Cey
lon during the whole time of the war, thus
“ Through the kindness ofjhe governor, I
The coroner’s jury at Newburgh have re
turned a verdict, which holds the pilot, Mr.
Smith, responsible for the collision, and he
has been arrested under process, issued from
the U. S. District Court, and held to bail in
the sum of ten thousand dollars, to take his
trial for manslaughter. Mr. Drew, of the
firm of Drew, Robinson & Co. promptly gave
the required security.
A coroner’s jury on the opposite side of
the river, at Fishkill, is now engaged in in
vestigating the causes which led to this acci
dent, and until the verdict of this jury,
which is composed of intelligent men, famil
iar with the navigation of the river—until
this verdict is rendered, it is impossible to
had an opportunity of seeing this celebrated
relic, when it was recovered, towards the
conclusion of the rebellion, and brought back
to be replaced in the Dalada Malegawa, or
temple, from which it had been clandestinely
taken Here it may be remark-
ed, that when the relic was taken the effect
of its capture was astonishing, and almost be
yond the comprehension of the enlightened;
for now they said, the English are indeed
masters of the country ; for they who possess
the relic have a right to govern four king
doms: this, for 2,000 years, is the first time
the relic was ever taken from us. The Potu
guese declare that in the sixteenth century
they obtained possession of the relic, which
the Cingalese deny saying, that, when Cotta
was taken, the relic was secretly removed to
Saffragam. They also affirm, that when
Kandy was conquered by us in 1815, the relic
was never surrendered by them to us, and
they considered it to be in their possession
until we took it from them by force of arms.
The first adikar also observed, that whatever
the English might think of having taken
Pilmi Talawe, and other rebel leaders, in his
opinion, and in the opinion of the people in
general, the taking of the relic was of infi
nitely more moment.”
The relic was kept by us from 1818 until
1847, and during that period was exhibited
by the servants of a Christian monarch, to
the priests and followers of Buddha, who
came to worship the Dalada. On the 28th of
Mav, 1828, the Dalada was publicly exhibited
at Kandy to the worshippers, under the sanc
tion of our government, the whole ceremony
being conducted with great splendor; also on
the 27th of March, 1846, there was another
public exhibition of the relic to the Siamese
priests, who had come from their own coun
try to worship the tooth. In 1847, however,
orders were most correctly sent by the home
government, desiring the relic to be given up
to the priests,'to dispose of as they chose
Some of the chiefs and priests, it was stated
at that time in Ceylon, proposed sending the
relic to England, to be placed in the custody
of the Queen of Great Britain, but this re
quest, for obvious reasons, could not be ac
ceded to, by a Christian government.
The superstitious belief of the Cingalese
Buddhists is so well known, that during the
late insurrection, apprehensions were enter
tained that the ringleaders might make the
possession of the Dalada-subservient to their
own purposes, and in Lord Torrington’s dis
patch to Lord Grey, dated from the Queen’s
House, Colombo, August 14,1848, we read :
“ As the possession of the Buddhist relic or
tooth, has always been regarded by the Kan
dians, as the mark of sovereignty over their
country, and it was stolen and carried about
in 1818, being used as a signal for rebellion,
which only terminated with the recovery of
it, it was judged right, by the commandant,
to demand the keys of the temple, as well as
of the shrine of the relic, which had been
delivered by me into the charge of two priests
and a chief, about a year ago He then as
sured himself that this object of veneration
had not been removed from its accustomed
position, and converted into a signal of re
bellion. But not trusting any longer to the
integrity of the priests or chiefs, by whom the
insurrection has been organized, the keys
have, for the present at all events, been re
tained in the possession of the commandant.”
The Dalada relic is placed in thd’principal
temple at Kandy, which is attached to what
was the palace of the Kandian monarch—in
fact the Dalada Malegawa was the domestic
wihare of the royal family. This temple is
considered by all Buddhists as the most sacred
in the island of Ceylon, from the fact that the
Dalada relic or tooth' of Buddha is enshrined
within its walls; and during the reigns of the
kings of Kandy, the people flocked from all
parts of the island to worship the relic, on
the various occasions of its public exhibition.
The time for the exhibition of the Dalada
was named by the monarch, and the nation
looked upon that period as one of rejoicing
the chiefs flocked to the capital, attended by
numerous followers; elephants were to be
seen bedecked with their richest trappings,
their masters reclining luxuriously in the
howdahs, which in many instances were at
tached to the bodies of the elephants by broad
bands, studded with pearls and precious gems.
Palanquins, bandies, haccories.and every dis
cription of vehicle were also called into re
quisition, to bear the inhabitants of distant
villages to the scene of rejoicing. When the
appointed day arrived, the monarch, accom
panied by the whole of the royal family and
chiefs, all clad in their costliest jewels and
robes of state, went to worship the relic,
which was exhibited by the priest of the
highest rank, who reverently raised it above
his head, to enable the assembled multitude
to gaze thereon. As soon as the vast assem
blage caught a glimpse of the sacred relic,
they salaamed most lowly, giving utterance
simultaneously to the exclamation of praise
—“ Sadhu" — this word was repeated by
those who stood in the background, until the
air was replete with the sounds of adoration,
and the joyous expression was re-echoed from
hill to hilt. Festivals and rejoicings succeed
ed in the palace and the hut, until the excite
ment and enthusiasm which had been called
into action by the exhibition of the relic had
subsided—then, and not till then, did the
mighty throng of chiefs and people, who
dwelt in distant villages, depart for their re
spective homes—and tranquillity again reign
ed in Kandy.
The Dalada Malegawa is an edifice of two
stories with a curved sloping roof, built some
what in the Chinese style of architecture,
and is approached by a double flight of stone
steps. Upon entering the temple, the walls
are found to be covered with sacred emblems,
and decorations of brass: a flight of steps
lead to the sanctuary, which is situated on
the upper story: this room has folding doors
with brass panels, on either side of which
curtains are suspended—the apartment is
about twelve feet square, and without win-
'say who is really at fault. Meantime public
opinion runs strongly against Mr. Smith, the
pilot; though wo h»»r from a reliable source,
that at Fishkill and Newburgh, the opinion
is gaining ground that the schooner’s men are
not entirely blameless.
It is impossible to describe the scene which
followed the collision. Women rushed from
the cabin and state rooms, half dressed and
frantic with alarm. Men roused suddenly by
the shock from their sleep, sprung upon deck;
and many of them no sooner reached the
deck than they jumped into the river. The
boat was rapidly settling, and but for the
prompt assistance rendered by the Rip Van
Winkle,and the boats which put offfrom New
dows, consequently the sun’s cheering rays
can never illumine this abode of superstition.
The walls and ceiling are hung with gold
brocade, and white shawls with colored bord
ers ; a platform, or table, about four feet high
occupies the principal part of the room; this
table is also covered with gold brocade ; on
this shrine are placed two small images of
Buddha, the one of gold, and the other of
crystal; before these idols, offerings of odo
riferious flowers and fruit are placed—four
caskets about twelve inches high, enclosing
relics, are arranged on the shrine, in the
centre of which stands the casket, or haran
dua, which contains the sacred tooth. This
casket is in the form of a bell, being made in
three pieces, and is about five feet high, the
diameter at the base being nine feet six
inches, and it appears to be made of gold, but
we were informed by a Kandian chief, that it
was composed of silver, richly gilt. The
chasing of the karandua is simply elegant,
and a few gems are dispersed about it, the
most costly of which is a cat’s-eye, which is
set on the summit. Although the workman
ship of the casket is unpretending, yet the
various ornaments and chains which are sus
pended about it, are of the richest descrip
tions, and the most elaborate designs. These
ornaments have been presented from time to
time by various worshippers of the god, in
token of gratitude for favors supposed to have
been conferred by him, and the wealthy devo
tees of the present day frequently make addi
tions to these valuable embellishments. The
most exquisitely beautiful of all these orna
ments, is a bird which is attached to a mas
sive and elaborately chased golden chain.—
The body of the bird is formed of gold, and
the plumage is represented by a profusion of
precious gems, which consist of diamonds,
emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and cats-eyes.
Description is inadequate to convey a correct
idea of the extreme and extraordinary efful
gence and exquisite beauty of these elaborate
decorations, which the limner’s art alone
could faithfully delineate. The karandua is
opened by a small door, which is placed in
the middle of the casket. || This precious
tooth of Buddha, it is affirmed by Europeans,
is an artificial one, made of ivory, which is--
perfectly discolored by the hand of time ; but
most assuredly, if a natural one, both from
its size and shape, this tooth could not have
been carried in the jaw of a human being,
but that it might have belonged to some
ancient alligator, many centuries ago, is ex
tremely possible. This discolored memento
of superstition is wrapped in a delicately thin
sheet of virgin gold, and deposited in a box
of the same precious material, which is of
the exact form of, and only sufficiently large
to receive, the relic. The exterior ef this
delicate bijou is studded with precious stones,
which are arranged in symmetrical order:
this box is placed in a golden vase, which is
decorated with diamonds, emeralds, and
rubies, in a style similar to the box, and being
■wrapped in rich brocade, is enclosed in a
second vase of gold, which is encircled with
folds of pure white muslin. This vass is
then located in a third, which is put into a
fourth, both being formed of the same preci
ous metal, and similarly folded in muslin.
The last vase is nearly eighteen inches high,
and the workmanship, delicate chasing, and
the tasteful manner in which the gems are
arranged, in the whole series of vases, is moat
exquisite. The fourth vase, with its contents,
is deposited in the shrine or karandua, and
is taken from thence at stated periods to be
worshipped, and none but the chief priest
ever presumes to touch the Dalada relic
When we saw the relic, it was placed in the
centre of an exquisitely beautiful pink lotus,
the flowers of the bo tree being strewed
around, and tastefully arranged on the shrine;
but it was most pitiable to behold the benight
ed Buddhists, many of them learned men ar.d
good scholars, prostrating themselves before a
piece of discolored bone.— Dublin Universi
ty Magazine.
* The bo, or sacred tree, is most magnificent, be
ing clothed in luxuriant foliage, bearing an exquisite
ly odoriferous bell-shaped flower, of a white hue.
The Buddhists affirm that each successive Buddha
had attained supreme wisdom whilst sitting under
some peculiar tree: and that Sidharte, or Goutama
Buddha, reached the pinnacle of heavenly know
ledge, whilst reposing under this tree, whicn is held
sacred by all Buddhists in Ceylon, at the present
t These relics are either hairs or small portions of
J The contents of this vase are very similar to one
that was discovered at Benares by Mr. Duncan, who
concluded from an inscription that he found in the
same place, that a temple of Buddha has existed there
above 700 years ago.
§ In a native work, still extant, and much prized
by the Cingalese, called the “ Dathadhastu-Wanso,”
the history of the relic will be found.
f Until 1347 the Christian governiaent agent of the
province, as well as the Buddhist chief priest, used
each to have a key of the karandua.
Pleasant Programme. —ln a neighbor
ing city last fall, an extensive circus company
gave several exhibitions under a canvass. At
one of these a missionary entered the show,
and taking his stand by the door, presented
visitors as they entered each with a neatly
printed tract, entitled, “ Sinner damnation ‘
awaits you." Every one supposed he was
getting a programme of the performances,
and the effect on the audience may be imagin
ed, when on looking for the particulars of the
“ unequalled display of equestrian gymnastic
and aerostatic talent” so liberally promised in
the large bills, they were confronted by the
gratifying piece of intelligence contained in
the caption above quoted. It was a scene for
a painter.
Squirrels Reared by a Cat. —A short
time since a son ot Mr. Richard Parker, of
Boone county, Ky., found a nest of young
squirrels, three in number, and on carrying
them into the house, he placed them with a
bevy of young kittens, and strange to tell, the
mother cat adopted the little foundlings into
her family, bestowing as much care and kind
ness upon them as upon her own offspring.
The squirrels are now about a month old, and
have become entirely domesticated living up
on the same pap, and adopting the habits of
their feline brothers and sisters.— lndiana
• burgh, a hundred lives would ha.ve been lost.
: Three members of one family, the Ladds,
, from Stonington, Ct., were drowned. The
i mother is insane. But the incidents of this
: catastrophe have already been spread before
he public in the columns of the daily
The Empire is now being raised, and will
be brought to this city for repairs. When
her cabins are clear of water, the loss of life
will then be known. It is hoped and be
lieved, however, that the worst is already
Our artist has given a correct and graphic
view of the scene, at the moment of colli
i» l i»g»mi«Hi l »Miiiniriw»»amaßMa— ■■
The Price of Blood.
To the Editors
The enclosed is decidedly rich, and worthy
of a place in the columns of your paper. My
dad’s practice of bleeding is duly cared for;
but Ido not see anything about the warm wa
ter. Perhaps that is too simple for these de
generate days. Yours, &c.
Sangrado Junior.
[From the New York Lancet ]
A List of Medical and Surgical Charges, adopted
by the Associated Physicians and Surgeons of
the City of New York, Dec. 1815, anb approved
nv the New York CnnsTY Mbbihai. Soouitt, Ja
nuary 2. 1816.
Verbal advice from 00 to $5 oo
Letter <f advice “ $lO “15 00
Ordinal y visit “ o “ 2eo
Consultation do 5 oo
Alter visits, each 300
Night visit 7 00
Visit at a distance per mile 1 50
Do. to Brooklyn 3 on
Do. to Powles’ Hook, summer .5 00
Do. to Staten Island 10 00
Both these last to be doubled to winter or
First visit in epidemic, or other diseases
were personal danger is apprehended 5 00
Each succeeding, under the same circum-
stances 3 eo
Vaccination 5 to 10 on
Each dressing of a wound 1 to 5 00
Cuppinng 5 00
Bleeding in arm or foot 2 00
Dressing blister i oo
Scarifying eye 5 00
Puncturing oedematous swellings 2 oo
Inserting seton 5 oa
Do. issue 200
Visits in haste to be charged double.
Detention, $3 per hour. Do. $25 per day.
Introducing catheter 5 00
Each succeeding time 2 00
Do. in females 5 00
Extracting calculus from the urethra 20 to 30 00
Reducing simple fracture 10 to 2o 00
Do. compound fracture 3000
Do. dislocations 5t020 00
Of the hip... 30 to 50 no
Reducing prolapsus am 500
Do. hernia 10 to 25 00
Opening abscess 1 to 5 on
Amputation of the breast 50 00
Do. of 1eg...... 5000
Do of hip or shoulder 100 to 150 on
Do. of finger or toe 1000
Do. of penis 20 00
Extirpation of testis 50 08 ;
Do. of eye... 100 on
Do. tonsils 25 00
Do Tumor 5t050 00 (
Perforating rectum 25 00
Do. nostrils, external ear, vagina or
urethra 5t025 00 1
Dividing the frenum lingu® or penis 3to 5 ft
Paracentesis of abdomen 15 to 25 00 !
Do. of thorax 50 00 ■
Operation for tic douloureux 25 ro
Do. for harelip 25 08
Do. for hernia 125 fo '
Do. fistula in perineo 50 00
Do. fistula in ano... 50 co *
Do. forphymosis. 1000
Do. fistula lachrymalis 40 co
Do. paraphymosis.-. 10 00 '
Do. wry neck 50 00
Do. depressing cataract . 125 00
Do. extracting do ~.150 00 '
Do. anterior of Saunders 25 00 ;
Do. popliteal aneurism 100 00 ,
Do. for carotid aneurism 200 00 1
Do. for inguinal or external iliac 200 00 j
Do. brachial 50 00
Do. radial, tibial, or ulnar 25 00
Lithotomy 150 00
Bronchotomy 25 00 1
Trepanning 100 00
Circumcision 10 00 ’
Common case of midwifery 25 to 35 00 <
Tedious or difficult cases 36 to SO 00
Case ot gonorrhoea 15 to 30 (0 <
Do. syphilis 25 to 100 00 .
Preparing and administering enema 2 00
Visit on board a vessel at the wharf 250 ’
Do. in the stream 500 1
Do. at Governor’s Island 500 :
Do for opinion involving a question of law, 1
and in which a physician may be subposnaed 500 .
Extracting tooth at patient’s house 200 I
Do. at surgeon’4 100 <
This scale of charges continues to the pre- ’
sent time, and has undergone no material {
modification during the last thirty years, j
Some of the items are highly amusing: thus
the charge of $lO to sls for a “ letter of ad
vice,” looks very much like a provident in- *
surance against the effects of mistakes upon
the reputation and emoluments of the physi- ‘
cian, and it is only to be deplored that the ’
scheme contains no similar provision in be- J
half of the unfortunate patient. So, again, {
the charges, as aggravated by the state of the J
weather and personal danger from an epi- J
demic. The ordinary fee, it has been seen, *
for a visit to Staten Island, performed by the 6
regular ferry in thirty minutes, is $10; in (
winter, or stormy weather, double the
amount, or S2O ; and if the case be yellow J
fever, “or other diseases where personal J
danger is apprehended,” $5 more, making t
the visit worth $25. But it is doubtless in- 1
tended as a compliment to their own profes- ’
sional skill that they charge so much less
when personal danger is apprehended from
an epidemic, than when they have merely to £
face bad weather. $lO is the charge against '
a storm, while a plague or pestilence escapes *
with only $5 ! But we leave the analysis of €
this list to the reader himself, as a rich I
source of amusement, except in instances "
where personal or domestic experience has 1
proved it to be too true for a joke. The lu- r
crative advantages conferred upon the pro- I
fession by the abdve association of physicians x
and surgeons, became so manifest, that in a f
few years further improvements in the ma- I
nagement of the patients were naturally sug- '
gested with a view to the same objects. Ac- t
cordingly, in the year 1823, another associa- '
tion of physicians and surgeons was institu- *
ted, called the 4< Kappa Lambda Society.” £
«One of the regulations of this fraternity was 1
to tax the druggists a heavy per centage for 1
the privilege of putting up the prescription t
given to patients bv the members ; and these «
prescriptions were so framed as to enable the 1
druggists amply to remunerate themselves 1
for the tax imposed, by making up a large 1
bulk of cheap ingredients, colored water, i
See,, and charging the patients according to -
quantity, “in every case where they will
stand it.” Thus was established, by means .
of a secret compact, a monopoly insuiing a .
large amount of “ quarterly revenue.”
The contempt with which these “ Kappa '
Lambdas” affect to look down upon the Ho- 5
mcaopathic practitioners, who prescribe di- J
minutive quantities of medicine, affording no
opportunity of exacting a revenue from the t
druggists, is more easily imagined than por
trayed. ‘
“Of the “ Kappa Lambda Society,” how- J
ever, the above regulation, now generally no- '
torious, is only one of the features. Its main
object was to grasp with an irresistible though
invisible hand, all the lucrative business o£ 1
in the control of their own body. Addit/'o •>
revenue was to be extorted, net merely from
i the druggists, in the manner above stated,
I hut by multiplying the frequency and num
' her of consultations, for which, as we see by
the above list, every member invited is al
' lowed to charge an additional fee of five dol
! lars. By abridging the duration of these
consultations, many may be held in a large
city like this, every day in the week, to the
no small gain of the worthy “ Kappa Lamb
das,” and the eventual astonishment of the
patients or surviving friends who have to
foot the bills. It is proper to state that this
society is still flourishing in full vigor, and
regularly holds its meetings every week.
St. Filomena,
In the year 1802, while some excavations
, were going forward in the catacomb of Pris
cilla, at Rune, a sepulchre was diwov. red
containing the skeleton of a young female ; on
the exterior were rudely painted some of the
symbols constantly recurring in these cham
bers of the dead, an anchor, an olive branch,
i (emblems of Hope and Peace,) a scourge, two
arrows, and a javelin ; above them the fol
lowing inscription, ot which the beginning
and end were destroyed:—
The remains, reasonably supposed to be
those of one of the early martyrs for the faith,
were sealed up and deposited in the treasury
of relics in the Lateran; here they remained
for some years, unthought of. On the return
of Pius VII. from France, a Neapolitan pre
late was sent to congratulate him. One of
the priests in his train, who wished to create
a sensation in his district, where the long
residence of the French had probably caused
some decay of piety, begged for a few relics
to carry home, and these recently discovered
remains were bestowed on him ; the inscrip
tion was translated somewhat freely, to signi
fy Santa Philumena, rest in peace. Amen:
Another priest, whose name is suppressed be-
■ cause of his great humility, was favored by
> a vision in the broad noon-day, in which he
c bolicld tho gloriovta -ziirgtn Filorncuaj wiiO
was pleased to reveal to him that she had suf.
fered death for preferring the Christian faith
! and her vow of chastity to the addresses of
t the emperor, who wished to make her his
wife. This vision leaving much of her his
i tory obscure, a certain young artist, whose
name is also suppressed, perhaps because of
■ his great humility, was informed in a vision
that the emperor alluded to was Diocletian,
and at the same time the torments and perse
cutions suffered by the Christian virgin Filo
mena, as well as her wonderful constancy,
were also revealed to him There were some
difficulties in the way of the Emperor Diocle
tian, which inclines the writer of the histori
cal account to incline to the opinion that the
young artist in his vision may have made a
mistake, and that the emperor may have been
his colleague, Maximian. The facts, how
ever, now admitted of no doubt; the relics
were carried by the priest Francesco da Lucia
to Naples; they were enclosed in a case of
wood resembling in form the human body;
this figure was habited in a petticoat of white
satin, and over it a crimson tunic after the
Greek fashion; the face was painted to rep
resent nature, a garland of flowers was placed
on the head, and in the hands a lily and a ja
velin, with the point reversed, to express her
purity and her martyrdom ; then she was laid
in a half-sitting posture in a sarcophagus, of
which the sides were glass; and after lying
for some time in state in the chapel of the
Torres family, in the church of Sant’ Angiolo,
she was carried in grand procession to Mug
nano, a little town about twenty miles from
Naples, amid the acclamations of the people,
woiking many and surprising miracles by the
Such is the legend of St. Filomena, and
such the authority on which she has become
within the last twenty years one of the most
fashionable saints in Italy. Jewels to the
value of many thousand crowns have been of
fered at her shrine, and solemnly placed round
the neck of her image, or suspended to her
girdle. I found her effigy in the Venetian
churches, in those ot Bologna and Lombardy.
Her worship has extended to enlightened
Tuscany. At Pisa the church of San Fran
cesco contains a chapel, dedicated lately to
Santa Filomena ; over the altar is a picture by
Sabatelli, representing the saint as a beautiful
nymph-like figure, floating down from heaven,
attended by two angels, bearing the lily, palm
and javelin ; and beneath, in the foreground,
the •sick and maimed who are healed by her
intercession; round the chapel are suspended
hundreds of votive offerings, displaying the
power and popularity of the saint. There is
also a graceful German print representing her
in the same attitude in which the image lies
in the shrine. I did not expect to encounter
St. Filomena at Paris; but, to my surprise,
there is a chapel dedicated to her in the
church of St. Gervais; a statue of her, with
the flowers, the dart, the scourge, and the an
chor, under her feet; and two pictures, one
surrounded after the antique fashion, with
scenes from her life. In the church of Saint
Merry there is a chapel recently dedicated to
“ Ste. Philomene ;” the walls covered with a
series of frescoes from her legend, painted by
Amaury Duval—a very fair imitation of the
old Italian style.
I have heard that St. Filomena is patron
ised by the Jesuits; even so it is difficult to
account for the extension and popularity of
her story in this 19th century.— Mrs. Jame
son's Sacred and Legendary Art.
The Perils of Falsehood.—ln the beau
tiful language of an eminent writer—“ When
once a concealment or deceit has been prac
tised in matters where all should be fair and
open as the day—confidence can never be re
stored any more than you can restore the
white bloom to the grape or plum, which you
have once pressed in your hand.” How true
is this ! and what a neglected truth by a great
portion of mankind. Falsehood is not only
one of the most humiliating vices, but sooner
or later it is most certain to lead to many
serious crimes. With partners in trade with
partners in life—with friends, with lovers,
how important is confidence ? How essen
tial that all guile and hypocrisy should be
guarded against in the intercourse between
such parties? How much misery would be
avoided in the history of many lives had
truth and sincerity been guiding and con
trolling motives, instead of prevarications
and deceit? “Any vice,” said a parent in
our hearing, a few days since, “ any vice, at
least among the frailties of a milder charac
ter, but falsehood. Far better that my child
should commit an error or do a wrong and
confess it, than escape the penalty, however
severe, by falsehood and hypocrisy. Let me
know the worst, and a remedy may possibly
be applied. But keep me in the dark—let me
be misled or deceived, and it is impossible to
tell at what unprepared hour a crushing blow
—an overwhelming exposure may come.”
Motto on the Bridal Ring.—A young
gentlemen of fine intellect and noble heart,
was suddenly snatched by the hand of death
from all the endearments of life. Surround
ed by everything that could make existence
pleasant and happy—a wife that idolized him
—children that loved him as they only can
love, and friends devoted to him ; the sum
mons came and he lay upon the bed of death.
But a few short years ago, she to whom he
was wedded, placed a bridal ring upon the
finger, upon the inside of which he had a
few words privately engraved. The husband
would never permit the giver to read them,
telling her the day would come when her
wish should be gratified, and she should know
the secret. Seven years glided away, and a
day or two since, when conscious that he
must soon leave his wife forever, he called
her to his bedside, and with his dying accents
told her that the hour had at last come when
she should see the words upon the ring she
had given him. The young mother took it
from his cold finger and though heart stricken
with grief, eagerly read the words—“ I have
loved thee e» Earth —I will meet thee in
.» (0- The celebrated Dr. Sanderson, the
blind mathematical professor of Cambridge,
being in a very large company, observed,
without any hesitation or inqury, that a lady
who had just left the room, and whom he did
not know, had very fine teeth. As this was
really the case, he was questioned as to what
means he employed in making the discovery.
“ I have no reason to think the lady a fool,”
said the doctor, “ and I have given the only
reason she could have for keeping herself in
a continual laugh for an hour.”
(0- Aristotle once gave alms to a very
wicked man who was in distress. On being
reproacheffifor bo doing. he-«»id. “Tnitvnm

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