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Sunday dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1845-1854, July 21, 1850, Image 4

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Tliia World is full of Beauty. :
There is a voice within me,
And ? tis fo sweet a voice, '
That its soft lispings win me,
Till tears start to mine eyes ;
Deep from my soul it springeth,
Like hidden melody ;
And evermore it singeth
This song of songs to me :
This world is full of beauty,
As other worlds above.
And if we do our duty.
It might be full of love.
If faith and loving kindness
Passed coin ’twixt heart and heart.
Old Bigotry’s dark blindness
And Malice would depart.
If men were more forgiving.
Were kind words oftener spoken.
Instead of scorn so grieving,
There would be few hearts broken.
When Plenty’s round is smiling.
Why wakes this cry for bread ?
Why are crushed millions toiling.
Guant—clothed in rags—unfed ?
The sunny hills and valleys
Blush ripe with fruit and grain.
But the lordling of the palace
Still robs his fellow men.
O God ! what hosts are trampled
Amidst this press of gold.
What noble hearts are sapped of life,
What spirits lose their hold
And yet upon this God-blessed earth
There’s room for every on£ ;
Ungarner’d food still ripens.
To waste, rot in the sun ;
For the world is full of beauty,
As other worlds above,
And if we do our duty,
It might be full of love !
Let the Jaw of bloodshed perish,
Wars, gore and glory, splendor—
And men will learn to cherish
Feelings more kind and tender.
Were we true unto each other,
We’d vanquish Hate and Crime,
And clasp the hand of brother.
In any land or clime ;
If gold were not an idol,
Were mind and merit worth,
Oh ! there would be a bridal
Betwixt high heaven and earth !
Were truth an uttered language.
Angels might talk with men,
And God-illumined earth should see
The golden age again ;
For the leaf-tongues of the forest—
The flower-lips of the sod—
The birds that hymn their raptures
Into the ear of God—
And the sweet wind that bringeth
The music of the sea.
Have each a voice that singeth
This song of songs to me :
" This world is full of beauty,
As other worlds above,
And if we did our duty,
It might be full of love.”
[London Weekly Times.
PROFESSIONAL MURDERS.
A DOCTOR TURNED STATE’S EVIDENCE.
Dr. E. H. Dixon has sent us the August num
ber of his SeaZpcZ,—a bold, fearless and frc<-
spoken journal, devoted to the exposure of
Quackery, within the pale of lhe medical profes
sion, as well as among the ignorant mounte
banks who make Doctors of themselves without
the aid of Diplomas. The August number of
the Scalpel, as usual, cuts right and left, at the
abuses of the medical profession, and must be
the means of working a reform among the M.
D.’s if there is any conscience at all left in the
Academy of Medicine.
Here is an extract from an article on “ Heroic
Medical Practice,” from the pen of B. W. Rich
mond, M. D., which, coming from a “ regular,”
should open the eyes of the people.
I have a case of heroism in my oye, that is
worth delineating. An example or two will il
lustrate my position. Fifteen years since, a
young man entered the office of a friend of mine
as a student of jnedicine. He was a boy of ;
noble heart, high aspirations and iron will. His
preceptor, though young, was a prodigy of popu
larity, and a hero of the tallest kind. Eberlce
and Mclntosh, were his standards; ho followed
them with a blind devotion, bold, void of cau
tion, with a mind impulsive, but a clear and cor-,
rect discernment of character. He never mis
took tho mental condition of his patient, but
magnetized him at once by his impulsive impu
dence. His means were always the same, and
applied with a dashing promptness that “ told ”
His office was full of books and bones, splints,
and bottles of medicine in profusion. He had
amused himself a long time with the new student
to sound his caliber; suddenly he turned h:s
eyes fully on him, and said, sternly,
“ Young man, can you stand the spirt-blood
and groans of death 3”
It was a turning point—he paused for a reply
to his unexpected query ; the answer was to fix
the character of the student with his tutor. Tue
response lingered not —
“ Yes sir, 1 can bleed to death if need ba.”
15 Young man,” said ho, “ your fortunes made.
If a patient calls when lam absent, and com
plains of pain, bleed him, and give him a dose
of physic and a bottle of bitters, and if you get
into trouble I will get you out.”
A case was soon at hand—a neighboring tan
ner was attacked with pneumonia; a tall, bony
man, with a ruddy face and a firm pulse—the
arm was corded, and the blood-letting carried to
a quart; the man fainted, was placed in bed. and
a solution of antimony prescribed. At night,
the preceptor returned—“ done right: reaction
is on; give me a bowl!” Anotner pint was
drawn —the solution continued; the nextziay 2j
ounces more: solution discontinued, and cathar
tics, given:—Dover’s and nitre, alternated with
the solution. The fifth day delirium came on ;
the vital current which fed and supported the
brain, was too much reduced to afford the neces
sary stimulus to the nerves—subsultus followed
—sordes —low delirium —and wiry pulse, quick
and thread-like. The seventh day, the student
was alone —the brain gave out; the pulse sank ;
the extrometies were cold; the eyes glazed and
the speech gone ; tho collapse was apparently
hopeless, and death, with his iron tongue, seem -
ed calling for the tanner, and thick ice seemed
closing round his heart strings. The parson was
called—prayer made to “ bless the means used”
The student was at last alarmed, and closed in
upon tho enemy, with pepper, quinine, and bran
dy, and frictions —the pulse came back, the eyes
moved and saw ; the tongue spoke and life seem
ed returning. The preceptor had now arrived,
and, of course, all was “just as he expected;
all right.” The patient continued for days be
tween life and death, drinking a pint of brandy
per day, ten grains of quinine, and two quarts of
beef tea. He lived—but vigor never returned
to his body, nor the blush to his cheek. The
case was really a miraculous escape from death
and the doctor ; yet it passed as “amarvelous
oure.” The death of a score of patients, after
that amazing case, would not have shaken the
confidence of the people in the skill of the phy
sician ; was he not within the jaws of death and
did he not raise him'l How he got there, the
poor creatures never suspected. There was, it is
true, one man, an old judge, who presumed to
question the amount of quinine, brandy and beef
tea. “Heis my patient, sir—he takes my reme
dies — if he dies he is skilfully killed.” Truth
every word of it, but nobody believed it. So >n
another case of tho same kind, occurred i a a
man of less vigorous constitution. He was bled
largely three times, and nauseated a number of
days with antimony; the neighbors murmured,
counsel was sent for: “ the bleeding must be
sustained” —the man was sinking—the antimony
was withdrawn and Dover’s powder given: the
pulse raised. The counsel came again, “the
pulse is deceptive.” The lancet was then ad
vised, and the patient was bled the fourth time.
clamor of the neighbors was silenced by
F the counsel, and the voice of the patient by
r death. In three days the friends bore him to his
long home, and the mourners went about the
streets saying, “he died in spite of the most
vigorous treatment by two ‘ emwienZ ’ physi
cians ”
An Irish settlement was on our borders; a peo
ple whose lower class is constant in nothing but
unfaltering fickleness and treachery. A woman
had come to her accouchment, an old hag of a
midwife was summoned, of course as ignorant of
tho mechanism of labor as an ape; she was
literally in perpetual motion. The patient was
twenty-four hours in actual labor I It was a
partial placental, and finally an arm presentation
—flooding of course violent at every contraction.
The old she-monkey pulled lustily on the arm,
but “blessed virgin! it wouldn’t come.” A
young man of superior mind and intelligence,
was sent for; it was his first case in the neigh
borhood, and as you will see he was crushed upon
the wheel of ignorance, that deserved a halter.
Loss of blood and constant handling had produc
ed irritation and spasm that defied every attempt
at reduction. Opium was given, though he saw
the end at a glance; the woman must die, and
as he would have to bear the responsibility,
counsel was sent for —the preceptor ot the young
man already mentioned; the whole neighbor
hood, as is usual among the Irish, was now
alarmed, and, unknown to tho physicians, a man
was started for a noted individual who, like
his admirers, loved whiskey. He came—called
for tho jug, and drank; “now give me your
confidence and I will save the patient.” He
counseled with no one, made no inquiries, but
proceeded to turn and deliver. Tho opium had
partially removed the irritation, and the task
was performed —God knows how; probably by
lacerating the womb ; the child passed into the
world, and the patient into eternity. The Irish
raised the cry that ho had killed the woman,
and my hero suggested that he had not only
killed her and the child, but had given no time
for the priest to baptise it I This was enough ;
their fury knew no bounds; their whiskey friend
left suddenly, and my young friend who had de
parted, shared the praise of her death ; it was
not faint but damning; he was ruined while the
medical hero escaped; he talked boldly and
“had not been allowed to act.” This excuse
answered his purpose.
My young friend had now learned something,
and sagely concluded that ho too could play the
hero, if people must have it. He removed to a
malarious district; his name soon sounded
through the region; young, skilful and hand
some; a dead match for the ague, and a Zt’ye
match for some beauty. A chill seized a luckless
patient, and the doctor had a first call, lie
x gallops his horse to the spot; enters, bows po
litely, and draws off his kid gloves—the gossips
surround him; “let me see your tongue; not a
moment to be lost; put on tne teakettle; want
some hot water; most bilious patient I ever saw;
that bile must be cleared-from his stomach or he
is a dead man.” The gossips stare and open
their mouths, and the doctor his saddlebags ;
Tartar Emetic 15 grs., Ipecac 20, Calomel 20
grs.—he stirs it with molasses, gives one half,
and in twenty minutes the other; then sends it
into the bowels by copious draughts of warm
water; the patient rolls, groans, and vomits ; he
is sick to the end of his toes. “ Must put the
four-horse team on to his case, or he’ll die—but
I’ll save him.” Patient rolls his eyes toward
heaven, and feels for once as though his hour
was come. Emesis commences—water at first,
then mucus, then a hearty dinner is emptied
into the vessel; violent spasms of the abdominal
muscles churu and compress the poor liver ; bile
or no bile, it must give up some, and finally up
it comes. See ! there is poison enough to kill
a hundred men—see the old Cuyahoga- (Kiaiiog)
—just in time; another day and your doom was
certain. Pints of slime and water, bile and slop
well mixed, fill the vessel. Samson attacksJus
bile, mucus and'foeeea, and" fills another vestel;
“ho is saved!” the patient so sick he cannot
stand, in a week is on his feet; his physician
saw him three times daily ; bill—s2s ; and my
friend’s reputation was made. Or more com
monly, he is sick three or four weeks; comes
near dying; calls counsel, recovers, pays S7O,
and seals the doctcrr’s fortune; his name is on
every tonge, he fats up, rides in a cushioned
carriage, and is rich.
Now, for the conclusion: A more barbarous
hoax was never played upon a fool; it is down
right quackery. In the last three years I have
treated hundreds of these “poison cases” with
entire success, with infinitesimals. You may
say that only proves that “no treatment was
needed.” Admit it for the sake of the argument,
and where does it land heroic allopathy? Makes
it worse than “710 treatment.” Whore is this
heroism going to end ! Tho mass of doctors
sent out from the colleges go with :
high notions of medicine : the people catoU the '
impression—they must bo doetored, they will
not reason; a wonderful discovery is made by
a “sarsaparilla” philanthropist: first, a “fluid
extract,” then a “concentrated fluid extract,” :
then a “double and twisted concentrated fluid
extract,” —then a “double refined, double and
twisted, double concentrated, genuine limpid
fluid extract,” and so on. The people khow
that the “doctors” mean something by these
learned names they are ominous;—hope is
high, the patient is “willing to die,” but not
yet; he reads certificates of a person cured of, I
don’t know what, by the corrosive sublimate
dissolved in the potent compound, only look at
them! there they stand. The “Rev.” “Rec
tor,” “ Elder, men of God, men whom the
people know cannot lie, they are the Lord’s an
ointed, set apart for a holy life and “it must be
so.” No nostrum in the land can be found with
out the names of these godly men attached to
tho certificates; in many instances the “ Rev ”
is the discoverer! Go through any city and
gather up the almanacs now mainly used to ad
vertise agencies—and you will have more vol
umes when bound, than were burned by the an
cient magicians; and filled with infinitely greater
lies and more of them. You may think me ir
reverent ; I hope you will, for I feel nothing but
the most intense irreverence and disgust for such
“ bogus” specimens of a class of men, who are
doing more than any other, except M. D.’s, to
send rottenness and death into the cheated and
blasted carcasses of humanity. Our part has
been well acted; we have praised our pills—
syrups,—anodynes,—tonics,—bile cleansers —in
fine the whole category of cheats have been
stamped into the confidence of the people by our
wicked, lying counseh We have physicked their
bodies instead of instructing their minds; taught
them to take medicine instead of obeying the
laws of their existence; taught them to revere
pills, powders and tonics, instead of air, warmth,
food, exercise, sleep and temperance. Wo have
our factories in full blast; and we finish up the
victims to order. Wo to be sure are not pocket
ing tho profits; shrewder men have superseded
us : we have sowed, they reap : we have watered
and the sellers of quack nostrums gather the
increase.
Take a single city as an example of our sys
tem. Cincinnati, beautiful in its natural posi
tion ; but filthy as the Styx, tho paradise of
quacks, doctors, druggists, and of death. Doc
tor’s signs adorn whole streets; they meet you at
every turn. Drug stores on almost every corner
—three colleges in full blast —and death running
riot with the people, and the grave groaning
with gluttony. It may be eo worse than other
places; but the doctors are fat and sleek, ride on
cushioned seats, and do a killing business.—
Quack nostrums aro endless, they “sell well.”
Look at tho cholera of last summer and tho
small pox of this winter ! and the doctors hunt
ing for tho cause in old books, instead of seeing
it in the Jilth under their very noses; and study
ing how to cure it, instead of studying how to
avoid it. How long, O Lord, how long shall
medicine and doctors be permitted to curse and
blight our race, instead of unveiling the altar
of light in the great temple of science and hu
manity !
MRS. M. FAY.
Our readers will recollect that a few weeks
ago, we in common with the rest of the newspa
pers chronicled the fact of a lady’s having
jumped out of the cabin window of the steamer
Bay State, on her trip from this city to Boston,
leaving her husband and four children on board
the boat, to mourn her loss. The Christian
Messenger*, (Universalist,) gives the following
interesting sketch of the occurrence :
Seldom has the sympathy of our denomination
been more deeply moved than by the tragic end
of the amiable and excellent lady whose name
stands at the head of this article. Of her it
may be said, emphatically,
‘•None knew her but to love her,
None named her but to praise.”
and passing.away as she has done, in so sudden
and mysterious a manner, and under circum
stances so peculiarly afflictive to her family and
friends, 1 have thought that a more extended
notice might not be unacceptable or useless
Her maiden name was Anne Minifie, and she
was a native of England, but came to this coun
try at an early age, with her brother, William
Minifie, Esq., well known as the author of an
excellent scientific work entitled, “A Text
Book of Geometrical Drawing.” With him she
settled in Baltimore, Maryland, and my ac
quaintance with her commenced on my removal
to that city in the fall of 1838. She was a con
stant attendant on my ministry there, and had
been a member of that congregation for some
years previous to that time. It was in tho fol
lowing year that she embraced Universalism in
the love of it. She often said to her pastor
during that year, “ I know not how it is ; 1 have
long attended church, as others attended it. I
have heard the Gospel preached, and have been
comparatively indifferent to its claims. But
now, I am deeply interested, and have learned
to love the worship of God.” Religion with her,
however, was not so much a theory as a perva
ding sentiment of her soul. Warm and ardent
in her attachments ; full of the spirit of kind
ness, and ever ready to sacrifice herself for those
she loved; the. Gospel of Christ found an appro
ving response inker kindred spirit, and she loved
it for its own sake. I saw her regularly in the
sanctuary on the Sabbath, and often deeply
moved. At my own fireside 1 met her almost
daily; and finally, I officiated at the altar,
where she gave herself, in love and trust, to her
now deeply-afflicted husband.
. P u F er spirit; more guileless and childlike
simplicity of heart and manners ; more deep and
ardent devotion to God, to family,,and friends, I
have never known in any human being than
were combined in her. Both myself and family
had learned to love her as a very dear sister;
and a sad gloom came over our household when
the news of her untimely death reached us.
It is due to her memory that the particulars
of her mysterious demise should be recorded.
They are as follows: Her body was always frail
and her constitution delicate. On the sth of
April last she had an attack of paralysis, which
affected the left side, and induced a stupor, in
which she remained about five weeks. The day
following this attack she was delivered of a son;
and during her accouchment, as also during the
time above named, she was insensible to pain,
and imagined herself in another state of exist
ence, receiving the attentions of her friends At
length consciousness returned, and she began to
realize her helpless condition. She became
deeply despondent, and ardently desired to die
regretted that so much care had been bestowed
upon her, and had no hope that she should ever
recover. She said she was no longer of any use
on earth, but should henceforth be only a trouble
to her family and friends. At times she appeared
more cheerful, but only with gloomy intervals of
settled melancholy. Country air and change of
scene were recommended by her physicians, and
it was determined to visit Roxbury, where she
had many dear and valuable friends. Accord
ingly she embarked for that place, on beard the
steamer Bay State, on tho evening of June 18th,
in company with her husband. When about 15
miles from New York, she entered the closet in
tho Ladies’ Saloon. After waiting a few min
utes he sent the cha.mbermaid to look for her;
but she was not to be found. Tho window of
the closet was open and the curtain rolled up to
the top ; and the conclusion was, that she must
have thrown herself from the window, over tho
taffrail, into the water. One of the h'ands em
ployed. upon the boat was standing near the
stern, in a position to command a view of the
rail. But he did not see her. The steamer
Vanderbilt was not quite half a mile in the rear,
whose pilot was attentively watching tho Bay
State ; but he did not seo her; though it is said
that one of the passengers on the Vanderbilt
saw the body floating ; and that tho pilot of the
Knickerbocker, also, saw the body of a woman
floating near the “Two Brothers.” Had she
been taken from the water by either of these
steamers, it is possible she might have been
saved. But she has gone! gone down in the
deep waters, and we shall see her no more on
earth. May God comfort her heart-stricken
husband and bless her bereaved children. It is
not presumed that she premeditated the act, nor
can it be accounted for except upon the ground
of her evidently deranged intellect. She was
deeply attached to her family, and lived only for
their good; and there probably never was a
time when she would not have laid down her life
for their good. The impression had taken deep
hold upon her mind that she was of no further
use, but an incumbrance and a burden to them;
and when she saw the rush of the waters, to her
shattered senses it may have appeared that the
time had come for her to offer herself as a martyr
to the good of those she loved. At all events it
is certain that she was in no situation of mind,
calmly and rationally to reflect upon her course.
But it is past. In her the sincere Christian,
the faithful wife, the devoted mother and tho be
loved friend, has departed; and many tears will
be shed at her loss. In all the virtues that
should adorn the Christian, and in all the qual
ities that can endear one to the heart, she
abounded. May her memory be sweet, and her
virtues be cherished, though she has gone the
way of all the earth.
bok Geologist.—The Lake Superior Jbw
nal gives the following account of a strange
phenomenon which recently occurred in Two
Harts river on the Southern shore of Lake Su
perior. A Mr. J. Spaulding was an eye-witness
of the occurrence.
About 11 o’clock in tho day of tho loth ult.,
Mr. Spaulding’s attention was attracted to a
slight agitation of the water near the shore, and
very soon he saw tho land suddenly rising out of
. tho water a few rods from the shore, and within
, a stone’s throw of himself. The beach opposite
, was also raised up at the same time to a he : ght
of some twelve feet. .The new island is round
and about 150 feet in circumference, and is raised
: above tho water six feet, and the rise on the
, beach, which is wide at this place, is of about tho
[ same size, and looks like a hillock of sand. The
. now island was at first covered with sand and
, pebbles like the bottom of the lake, but tho
i waves have dashed over it since and washedit
> down to a black clay. Tho water was about 5
, feet deep where the island was formed and a boat
I had passed over tho very spot not five minutes
. before its formation. . A few rods from the
. beach, back on tho rise of ground, a great de
, pression of the earth took place as remarkable
. as the upheaving in tho water. A circular soot
L ot ground some titty rods in circumference, cov
. ered with trees, was suddenly sunk down to the
( depth of 20 feet below the surface. No ac-ita
, tion of the earth, or noise took place, and’ the
. cause must have been much less powerful than
i the internal convulsions of the earth that usually
. accompany such phenomena.
. —Mato
i A Curious Combat. —Two gentlemen of high
1 birth, the one a Spaniard, and the other a Ger
■ man, having rendered Maximilian If. many ser
, vices, they each, for recompense, demanded his
l natural daughter, Helena Senasequin, in mar
l riage. The prince, who entertained equal re-
> spect for them both, could not give eitner the
> preference, and after much delay, he told them
I that from the claims they both had to his atten
tion and regard, he could not give his assent for
. either of them to marry his daughter, and they
1 must decide it by their own prowess and address:
weapons, he had ordered a large bag to be
- "lobgut, and he who was successful enough to
put his rival into it, should obtain his daughter.
J. ms. strange combat between two gentlemen
was in the presence of the whole imperial court,
hour ' At the Spaniard
yielded to the German, Andre Elhard, Baron of
letherd, who,when he had got him into the bag,
ook him on his back, and placed him at the
fS Q^ ror s £ e ? fc » an d on the following day married
the beautiful Helena.
Wives in England.—A South Lancashire
beer housekeeper, recently, whilst drunk and
jealous, beat his wife, sold her to another man
tor a pint ot ale, and then turned his wife and
ner purenaser out of doors together.
THE BRIDE MURDERESS.
The New Orleans True Delta, several weeks
since, published a singular case which tho writer
witnessed at the Charity Hospital in that city.
An Irishman, named Patrick Mackey, who had
been on a spree, woke up tho morning after and
found one of his cars full of lead, fitting exactly
all the cavities, which he was unable to account
for. He had gone to his home drunk and was
received by his wife, who appeared to be equally
surprised with himself at the discovery of the
lead in her husband’s ear. We thought at the
the time of reading the case that the wife was
tho proper party to explain the occurrence, but
it seems there has not been the slightest suspi
cion against her. A correspondent of the Con
cordia Intelligencer, on reading tho account of
the above case, relates the following singular
pcident which, he says, occurred a few years
ago in Virginia:
Col. T., a gentleman of great respectability,
and frequently high sheriff and representative
of the county, died, leaving a wife and several
children, among them a very beautiful daughter
about fifteen years of age. 'lhe widow, finding
herself embarrassed, opened a boarding house at
the county site, and among her boarders was a
Mr. W., a wealthy merchant, over forty years,
but a very fine looking man. This gentleman
was the prop and stay of the family ; gave em
ployment to the sons, educated the daughter at
a “fashionable academy,” and, very naturally,
on her return, fell desperately in love with her,
when ho should have preferred the mother, lie
pressed his suit with perseverance, but the beau
tiful Mildred resisted his appeals and the im
portunities of all her friends. Finally, however,
after two years of assiduity and delicate gallantry
on the part of Mr. W., and the combined tears,
entreaties, threats and persecution of her family,
the fair girl reluctantly stood before the altar
and become his wife. The next evening a large
party was given them, but in the midst of it Mr.
W., being attacked with vertigo and sick head
ache, was compelled to withdraw. His young
wife hung over him in the silent watches of the
night, apparently in deep distress, and insisted
on giving him a potion. She poured out a wine
glass full of laudanum, and he swallowed it, un
conscious of its nature. Is acted as an emetic,
but left him stupid and wandering. His senses
reeled. One moment he lay motionless as if on
the brink of the spirit world, and the next he
would leap up convulsively, a strong man in his
agony. Mrs. W. denied all admission into the
chamber. At length ho fell into a deep sleep.
She then stooped for a moment over the mould
ering embers—approached the bed —gazed at her
sleeping husband—and, holding a heated ladle
in her hand, attempted to pour a stream ot
melted lead into his ear! She trembled, and
the hissing liquid, intended to scald the brain,
and thus kill without a trace, fell upon his cheek.
He shrieked in excrutiating torture,-and the
revellers, in the adjoining saloon, rushed into
the chamber. There writhed the still stupid
husband, the lead riveted deep into his check,
and there stood the fiend wife, her bridal fillets
yet upon her brow, the instrument of death in
ner hand, and an empty vial, labelled laudanum,
lying on the floor. Tho fearful realities of the
case flashed upon every one, and in the confusion
of the moment, she was hurried away, and ta
ken to a distant State. On searching the apart
ment, an old magazine was found containing the
confession of a woman, who had murdered five
husbands by pouring lead into their ears. The
laudanum and the lead, it was ascertained, she
procured from the* store of Mr. VV. a few days
before the marriage, and the ladle was part of
his wedding gift. The grand jury next morning
found a bill against the fugitive, and the legisla
ture, being in session, forthwith decreed an ab
solute divorce. What renders this case more
extraordinary is, that Miss T. was
for the blandness of her manners, and uniform
sweetness of disposition. She was a blonde.
Therrose leaf tinted her lily cheek; as a sun
beam glows on snow. Her blue eyes were inde
scribably sweet, and her golden hair floated
around a form more perfect and voluptuous than
ever Apelles dreamed of, or Petrarch sung.
The sequel of this romance is yet more singu
lar. Years rolled away, and W. continued a
wretched and solitary man. But the spell of
tho enchantress was still upon his soul. He
closed his stores, sold his estates, collected his
ample means, and traced her to her.distant re
treat, to make a new offer of his hand ! She
had just married a gentleman of high standing,
acquainted with all the details of her career,
shuddering at the tragedy, but incapable ot re
sisting her charms. Poor W.! Then, indeed,
did the iron enter his soul. “The deadly arrow
quivered in his side.” His early love—his fluc
tuating courtship—his marriage and the catas
trophe—the flight—the divorce —his years of
misery—the new birth of his passion—and now
his disappointment, final and forever—came
crushing over him like an iceberg in the tide of
bitter memories, and he prayed for death !
Whether this prayer was granted, I know not.
He may yet wander, broken-hearted, over the
earth. If he be dead, a more wretched, yet a
purer and nobler spirit never winged its flight to
heaven.
A THRILLING TALE.
The Pennsylvanian is responsible for the fol
lowing account of a recent heart-rending occur
rence in the City of Brotherly Lovo.
Mr. Archy Stanhope, a groggery sentimental
ist, residing in Buckley street, Philadelphia,
conceived the harrowing suspicion that his wife
was not as passionately fond of him as a lady of
good taste should be; and to put the matter to a
fair trial, he hit on a little stratagem, which ho
put in practice the other day, with the result
hereafter to be detailed.
He took a suit of clothes and made an effigy of
himself, by stuffiing the garment with a quantity
of straw which had lately been emptied from an
old bed. Having suspended the figure to a raft
er in the garret, by means of a piece of clothes
line, he ensconced himself behind a pile of rub
bish in the same garret to watch the effect.
After a while a little daughter came up after a
jumping-rope, and caught a glimpse of the sus
pended figure. She ran down the stairs scream
ing, “Oh mother, daddy’s hung himself.”
“ Now for it,” though; Archibald, in ambus
cade ; we shall have a touching scene presently.”
“ Hung himself?” he heard Mrs. Stanhope re
peat, as she walked leisurely up-stairs; he hasn’t
got spunk enough for such a thing, or ho would
have done it long ago. Well, I do believe he
has done it, however,” she continued, as she
came in view of the straw representative. “ Mol
ly,” (to the little girl,) I think he ought to be
cut down. You had better go down into tho
kitchen and get a knife, my dear; but don’t go
too fast, or you might fall and hurt yourself.
Stay—l forgot; there’s no knife in the kitchen
sharp enough. You can go round to Mr. Holmes’,
the shoemaker, in Sixth street, he’s only two
squares off, and ask hirli to lend us his paring
knife ; tell him to whet it a little before he sends
it. And, Molly, while you are in the neighbor
hood, you can call at your aunt Sukey’s, and ask
how the baby is. And, Molly, you can stop at
the grocery store as you come back, and get me
a pound of seven cent sugar.
“Poor Archy,” sighed Mrs. S. when her
daughter had departed, “I think I ought to
have let him had his own way for once in his life.
He used to say that I was always crossing him.
I wish he hadn’t spoiled that new clothes line,
though—an old rope might have answered his
purpose.”
Here a voice which sounded like that of the
supposed suicide, broke in on Mrs. Stanhope’s
soliloquy with “you confounded old Jezebel, I’ll
be the death of you.”
Mrs. S. thinking this must of course be a
ghostly exclamation, uttered a wild scream, and
attempted to escape down a narrow staircase.
Archibald, starting from his place of conceal
ment, gave chase. Mrs. 8. stumbled midway on
the flight of steps, and Mr. S. having just reach
ed her and made a grasp at her disheveled hair
as it streamed backward, the amiable partners
were precipitated to the bottom together.
Both were badly bruised, and the cries of the
lady raised the neighborhood. Archibald was
arrested for making a disturbance and practising
on the tender sensibilities of his wife. He was
recognized in the sum of S2OO, and jocularly pro
posed his suspended effigy as security, but
“straw bail,” as he found to his sorrow, is not
acceptable under the administration of Mayor
Jones.
FERE LA CHAISE.
A correspondent of the Newark Daily Ad
vertiser gives an account of this celebrated
Cemetery:—
In the Old World, among various things which
serve as food for meditation to the traveller,
nothing perhaps claims his attention more than
her beautiful and impressive cemeteries. The
illustrious dead of ages are sleeping here, sur
rounded by a silence, rendered more profound
from tho renown with which they once tilled tho
world. Among the many interesting places of
j this character which I have seen, none 1 consider
I more worthy tho subject of a letter than the fa
! mous cemetery of Fere la Chaise, situated at
' the eastern extremity of Paris.
This cemetery has not the celebrity of anti
| quity, having been used as a general burial place
only about half a century. Many of the great
Frenchmen who have died since then have been
buried here, and the remains of distinguished
individuals have been removed from other places
to this. It is the largest burying place in the
, vicinity of Paris, containing about one hundred
i acres, beautifully diversified by hills and dales
and laid out in beautiful avenues and lovely
paths shaded by the gloomy cypress. These
■ trees abound throughout the place, shading the
; magnificent tombs of the rich, ana the nameless
graves of the poor, and throwing a melancholy
cast over the entire scene. The graves are divi
-1 ded into three graduated kinds ; each grade oc
' cupying the particular section of the cemetery
allotted to it. Ono hind belongs to the poor
■ who aro allowed the right of burial here, free of
1 expense, on the condition, however, of giving
' up their graves at the expiration of live years;
' that time being sufficient, as they say, in this
• soil, for the decomposition of the bodies. The
next, that they may not be disturbed quite so
1 soon, pay a trifle, and are consequently allowed
to remain ten years, before having their graves
1 made over for new comers. The last, by pacing
1 a large sum, hold their tombs in perpetuity.—
! Over all these last mentioned, the most costly
and varied monuments have been erected.
1 On entering the peaceful resting place of the
- dead, one almost imagines himself transported
to some beautiful elysium, beyond the limits of
1 the. earth, where the departed have taken up
their eternal repose. I can easily conceive how
! a person, pressed down by the troubles of life,
1 might envy tho dead who are resting hero.—
Most of the monuments are small chapels, of
every order of architecture, containing altars,
adorned with flowers, plate, images, and all the
L paraphernalia of the Catholic church. New
made wreaths from the flowers of the Amaranth,
by which aro interwoven tho most touching sen
i timents of affection, are hung profusely on all
the tombs ; and the graves of the poor, adorned
in no costly piles of marble, but some with
beautiful flowers, which receive the constant
care of dear friends, form a spectacle of beauty
and tenderness, rare to be met. One tomb,
above all others in this place, cannot fail to de
tain the visiter awhile to look upon it, if he
have any admiration for genius, sentinnQatJhr
_ TP r f ~ *VI llllßlVrtUllO. It IS
the tomb of the unfortunate lovers, Abelard and
Heloise. . Tho dust of these individuals who,
when living, had exchanged beings with each
other, is mingled here in the same grave. The
tomb is placed within a small gochic chapel,
supported by rows of columns, surmounted by
graceful arches. The columns are the only en
closure to the chapel. The statues of the two
lovers are placed side by side in a recumbent
position; and if they are true likenesses, which
they are said to be, Abelard and Heloise were
beautiful as romance has painted them.
The front pediment of tho chapel contains
three sculptures in bas-relief. The centre one
represents Mount Calvary, on one side of which
is Abelard dressed in his monastic habit; and on
the other an angel flying away with the spirit
of Abelard in its arms.
A THRILLING INCIDENT. j
Capt. Mayne Reid, who served in the Mexican
war, gives some interesting sketches of his ad
ventures. We select one of them.
It was daylight when I awoke—broad daylight.
My companions, all but Clayley, were already
astir, and had kindled a fire with a species of
wood known to Raoul, that produced hardly any
smoke. They were preparing breakfast. On a
limb, close by, hung the hideous, human-like
carcass of an iguana, still writhing. Raoul was
whetting a knife to skin it, while Lincoln was at
some distance, carefully reloading h's rifle. The
Irishman Jay upon the grass, pealing bananas,
and roasting them over the fire.
The iguana was soon skinned and broiled ; and
we commenced eating, all of us with good ap
petites.
“Be Saint Bathrick,” said Chane, “this bates
frog eatin’ all hollow. It’s little myself dhramed,
in the ould sod, hearing of thim niggars in furrin’
parts, that I’d bo turning kannjbawl myself
some day !”
“ Don’t you like it, Murtah 3” asked Raouls,
jocosely.
‘‘ Oh, indade, yes; it’s better than an empty
bridbasket; but if yez could only taste a small
thrifle ova Wicklow ham this mornin, ’ and a
smilin’ pratie, instid ov this brown soap,
yez”
“Hist!” said Lincoln, starting suddenly, and
holding the bite half way to his mouth.
“ What is it 3” 1 asked.
“ I’ll tell yer in a minit, Cap’n.”'
The hunter waved his hand to enjoin silence,
and striding to the edge of the glade, fell flat to
the ground. We knew that he was listening,
and waited for the result We had not long to
wait, for he had scarce brought his ear in con
tact with the earth, when he sprung suddenly,
up again, exclaiming:
“ Houns trailin’ us, by the Eternal God!”
It was seldom that Lincoln uttered an oath,
and when he did there was something awful in
his manner. He wore a despairing look, too,
unusual to the bold character of his features.
This, with the terribly appalling statement, act
ed on us like a galvanic shock; and by one
impulse, we leaped from the fire, and threw our
selves flat upon the grass. Mot a word was spo
ken, as we strained our ears to listen- At first,
wo could distinguish a low, moaning sound, like
the hum of a wild bee ; it seemed to come out of
the earth. After a little, it grew louder and
sharper; then it ended in a yelp, and ceased
altogether. After a short interval, it began
afresh, this time still clearer, and then the yelp,
loud, and sharp, and vengeful. There was no
mistaking that sound. It was the bark of the
Spanish bloodhound! We sprang up simulta
neously, looking around for weapons, and then
staring at each other with an expression of de
spair. The rifle and two case-knives were all the
weapons we had.
“ What’s to be done 3” cried one, and all eyes
were turned upon Lincoln.
The hunter stood motionless, clutching his
rifle and looking to the ground.
“ How fur’s ihe crik, Raoul 3” he asked after
a pause.
“ Not a hundred yards; this way it lies.”
“1 kin see no c other chance, Cap’n, than ter
take the water; we may bamboozle the hounds
a bit, if there’s good wadin’.”
“ Nor I.” I had thought of the same plan.
“ It wo hed bed bowies, we mouter fit the dogs
whar we ir ; but yer see we aint; an’ I kin tell
by ther growl, tnar aint less nor a dozen on
’em.”
It’s no use to remain here; lead us to the
creek, Raoul!” and following the Frenchman,
we dashed recklessly through the thicket. Reach*;
ing the stream, we plunged in. It was one oi’
those mountain torrents —common in Mexico —
spots of still water, alternating with cascades,
that dash and foam over shapeless masses of
amygdaloidal basalt. We waded through the
first pool; and then, clambering among the
rocks, entered a second. This was a good
stretch, a hundred yards or more, of crystal wa
ter, in which we were waist deep. We took the
bank at the lower end, on the same side ; and,
striking back into the timber, kept on parallel to
the course of the stream. We did not go far
away from the water, lest we might be pushed
again to repeat the ruse.
'All this time the yelping of the bloodhounds
had been ringing in our ears. Suddenly it
ceased.
“ They have now reached the water,” said
Clawley.
“No,” rejoined Lincoln, stopping a moment
to listen, “ they’re a chawin them bones.”
“ There again,” cried one, as their deep voi
ces rang down the glen, in a chorus of the whole
pack. The next minute, the dogs were mute a
second time, speaking, at intervals, in a fierce
growl, that told us they were at fault. Beyond
an occasional bark, we heard nothing of the
bloodhounds until we had gained, at least, two
miles down the stream. We began to think we
had baffled them in earnest, when Lincoln, who
had kept in the rear, was seen to throw himself
flat upon the grass. We all stopped, looking at
him with breathless anxiety. It was but a mi
nute. Rising up, with a reckless air, he struck
his rifle fiercely upon the grond, exclaiming:
“Swamp them ere hounds, they’re arter us
agin!”
By one impulse we all rushed back to the
creek, and scrambling on the rocks, plunged
into the water, and commenced wading down.
A sudden exclamation burst from Raoul, in the
advance. We soon learnt the cause, and to our
dismay, we had struck the water at a point
where the stream rationed ! On each side rose
a frowning precipice, straight as a wall. Be
tween these, the black torrent rushed through a
channel only a few feet in width, so swiftly that,
had we attempted to descend by swimming, we
should have been dashed to death against the
rocks below. To reach the stream farther down
it would be necessary to make a circuit of miles ;
and the hounds would be on our heels before wo
could gain three hundred yards. We looked
at each other, and at Lincoln—all panting and
pale.
“ Stumped at last!” cried the hunter, gritting
his teeth with fury.
“ No,” I shouted, a thought at that moment
flashing upon me. “ Follow mo, comrades.
We’ll fight the bloodhounds on the cliff.”
I pointed upward. A yell from Lincoln an
nounced his approval.
“Hoorey!” he cried, leaping on the bank;
that idee’s just like yer, Cap. Hoorey! Now',
boys, for the bluff ”
Next moment, we were straining up the gorge
that led to the precipice. And the next, we had
reached th© highest point, where the cliff, by a
bold projection, butted over the stream. There
was a level platform, covered with tufted grass,
and upon this we took our stand. We stood, for
some moments, gathering breath; and nerving
-ourselves for the desperate struggle.
1 could not help looking over the precipice. It
was a fearful sight. Below—in a vertical line,
two hundred feet below—the stream, rushing
through the canon, broke upon a bed of sharp,
jagged rocks, and then glided on, in seething,
snow-white foam. There was no object between
the eye and water; no jutting ledge—not even a
tree, to break the full—nothing but the spikey
boulders below, and the foaming torrent that
washed them! It was some minutes before our
unnatural enemies made their appearance, but
every howl sounded nearer and nearer. Our
trail was warm, and we knew they were scenting
it on a run. At length the bushes crackled, and
we could see their white breasts gloaming
through the leaves. A few more springs, and
the foremost bloodhound bounded out upon the
bank, and, throwing up his broa'd jaws, uttered
a hideous “growl.” He was at fault where he
had entered the water. His comrades now dash
ed out of the thicket, and, joining in the chorus
of disappointment, scattered among the stones.
An old dog—scarred and cunning—kept along
the bank, until he reached the top of the canon.
This was where we had made our crossing.—
Here the hound entered the channel, and, spring
ing from rock to rock, reached the point where
we had dragged ourselves out of the water. A
short yelp announced to his comrades that he had
lifted tho scent; and they all threw up their
noses, and came galloping down. There was a
swift current, between two boulders of bassalt.
We had leaped this. The old dog reached it,
and stood straining -upon the spring, when Lin
coln fired, and rhe hound, with one short
“wough,” dropped upon his head, and was car
ried off like a flash.
“ Counts one less to pitch over,” said the hun
ter, hastily reloading his rifle.
Without appearing to notice the strange con
duct of their leader, the others crossed in a string,
and striking the warm trail, came yelling up the
pass. It was a grassy slope—such as is often
seen between two tables of a cliff—and, as the
dogs strained upward, we could see their white
fangs, and the red blood that had baited them
clotted along their jaws. Another crack from
Lincoln’s rifle, and the foremost hound tumbled
back down the gorge.
“ Two rubbed out,” cried the hunter, and at
the same moment 1 saw him fling his rifle to the
ground.
Tho hounds kept the trail no longer. Their
quarry was before them; their howling ended,
and they sprang upon us with the silence of tho
assassin. The next moment we were mingled
together, dogs and men, in the fearful struggle
of life and death ! I know not how long this
strange, encounter lasted. I lell myself, grap
pling with the tawny monsters, and hurling them
over the cliff. They sprang at my throat, and I
threw out my arms, thrusting them fearlessly be
tween the shining rows of teeth. Then 1 was
free again, and seizing a leg or tail, or the loose
flaps of the neck, 1 dragged a savage brute to
ward the brink, and, summoning all my strength,
dashed him against the brow, that he might tum
ble howling over. Once I lost my balance, and
nearly staggered over tho precipice; and, at
length, panting, bleeding, and exhausted, I fell
to the earth, icculd struggle no longer. I look
ed around for my comrades. Clayley and Raoul
had sank upon the grass, and lay torn and bleed
ing. Lincoln and Chane, holding a hound, were
balancing him over tho bluff.
“Now, Murther,” cried the hunter, “give him
a good heist, and see if wo kin pitch him clar on
t’other side; he-woop-hoo !”
And with this ejaculation, the kicking animal
was launched into tho air. I could not resist
looking after. Tho yellow body bounded from
the face of the opposite cliff, and fell, with a
heavy splash, into the water below. He was the
last of tho pack !
Anecdote of Gen. Putnam.—ln the battle of
Princeton, Capt. M’Pherson, of the 17ch British
regiment, a very , worthy Scothman, was despe
rately wounded in the lungs and left with the
dead. Upon General Putnam’s arrival there, ho
found him languishing in extreme distress, with
out a surgeon, without a single accommodation,
and without a friend to solace the sinking spirit
in the gloomy hour of death. He visited and
immediately caused every possible comfort to be
administered to him. Capt. M’Pherson, who
contrary to all appearances recovered, and having
demonstrated to General Putnam the dignified
sense of obligations which a generous mind
wishes not to conceal, one day in familiar con
versation demanded—“ Pray, sir, what country
man are you 3” “An American,” answered the
latter. “ Not a Yankee !” said the other. “ A
full-blooded one,” replied the general. “By
G—d, lam sorry for that,” rejoined M’Pherson,
“I did not think there could be so much good
ness and generosity in an American, or, indeed,
in anybody but a Scotchman.
A Persevering Tailor.—An English paper
gives an account of an extraordinary instance
of industry and perseverance-in a humble way.
vi^ rKin ° named George Watts, residing
at West Bromwich, has just completed a piece
of fandy needlework, consisting of upwards of
four thousand pieces of cloth, sewed together
jy l j different colored silk. There are three
hundred figures formed by pieces of cloth upon
this coyer; amongst which are scenes illustra
tiyes of Paradise, the Death of Abel, the Cruci
fixion, &c.; animals, flowers, ships, bridges and
fortresses The whole is the work of his own
hand, and occupied him for five years and nine
months, from two to three days in the week hav-
Wn? devoted t 0 its completion. It is valued
at oLoOO.
Justice.—A lawyer on his death bed, willed
ail ms property to the Lunatic Asylum, saying,
as a reason for so doing, that ho wished his pro
perty to return to the liberal class of people who
patronized him.
Song of the Affections. i
Bright are those eyes of thine, J
Beauteous for ever!
Fond is this heart of mine,
Faithless ’twas never.
Never to maiden fair
Have my lips spoken,
Vows as light as summer air.
Made to be broken :
Though at each blow of fate
False friends are flying,
Leaving thee desolate,
.All the day sighing !
Sad letihy lot be, still
One stands beside thee,
Ready through ev’ry ill.
To guard and guide thee.
Chorus. Come and rest
On this breast
Love overladen.
Softly ’twill pillow thee.
Beautiful maiden.
Soon fhall your laugh be light.
Happy and cheerful!
Ne'er shall that eve so bright,
Dearest, grow tearful ;
All that can give thee mirth.
Use it, nor spare it;
. Were it my all on earth,
With thee I'd share it.’
Gjrl of a beauty rare,
Blooming unfaded I
Girl of the raven hair
Gracefully braided !
Girl of the angel brow,
Pure as high heaven !
Plight we the tender vow,
Ne’er to be riven.
Come and rest
On this breast
Love overladen.
Softly ’twill pillow thee,
Beautiful maiden.
THE AMERICAN FLAG,
The National Intelligencer, gives the follow
ing interesting article from a correspondent on
this subject:
The first attempt of an American flag appears
to be that of old Endicott, of Salem, who, in
1631, cut the cross of St. George out of the flag
of old England, as savoring of popery and pre
lacy. We are unable to say how far tho pure red
flag thus formed, was adopted by the New Eng
landers. But the old English national colors
were generally worn by tho Continental vessels,
till the breaking out of the revolution. It is re
markable, however, that the thought of raising
a national standard of their own, seems never to
have been abandoned by the people of Now Eng
land. Mention is made of a colonial flag as early
as 1686. The first national emblem adopted
here, was that stamped on the silver coin of
Massachusetts, nearly two hundred years. Pro
bably it was on the flag above mentioned, as a re
presentation of one drawn in 1701, exhibits the
pine tree combined with the English cross. This,
so far as we can discover, is the first actual de
scription of tho American pine tree flag—though
undoubtedly it was used at a much earlier date.
It continued in use, more or less, till superseded
by the stars and stripes.
There w T as no means of knowing whether the
New England troops who fought in the old
French war, on the lakes of Canada, and at Cape
Breton, bore any colors distinct from the Eng
lish, though it is likely they did, as the several
States had their Colony arms, and these appear
to have been inscribed oh the banners of the mi
litia. This was the practice when the New
England troops marched to Boston, after the
battle of Lexington. A letter dated April 23,
1775, says of rhe Connecticut troops : —“ We fix
on our arms and drums the Colony arms, with
the motto, ‘ Qui transtulit sustmetf round it
in letters of gold, which we construe thus :
‘ God, who transplanted us hi her, will sustain
us.’” The accounts of the battle of Bunker
Hill make no mention of a standard being used
by the Americans, though at a public celebra
tion in 1825, a flag was displayed, which, accord
ing to tradition, was hoisted in tho redoubt on
the top of tho hill. It is said to have borne an
inscription which the British officers in Bost?n
attempted in vain to read with the help of their
telescopes, till a whig told them it was “ Come
if you dare.” On the 18th of July, 1775, after
the battle, we read in the Essex Gazette of a flag
raised on Prospect Hill, bearing on one side the
motto, fAn Appeal to Heaven,” and on the
other side, “ Qui transtuht sustmet.”
The pine tree flag, however, seems to have
prevailed over all others, and soon became the
national ensign. Col. Reed, in a letter written
from tVe beseigingarmy at Boston, October 20th,
1775, says to Cols. Glover and Moylan, “ Please
to fix upon some particular color for a flag, and
a signal by which our vessels may know each
other. What do you think of a flag with a white
ground, a tree in the middle —with the motto,
•An Appeal to Heaven.’ This is the flag of
our floating batteries.” The suggestion was
adopted, and the pine tree flag became the en
sign of the American ships of war, public and
private. It was adopted by the Legislature of
Massachusetts as the naval flag of the colony, on
the 29th of April, 1776.
Paul Jones declared that he was the first man
who hoisted the continental flag on board a na
tional ship of war. Jones was appointed lieu
tenant of the Alfred, the flag-ship of Com. Hop
kins, on the 22 d December, 1775. The Alfred
lay at Philadelphia, where Jones hoisted the
flag, on that or on some subsequent day. It was
doubtless the pine tree, but this had been un
furled upon the ocean by New England private
armed vessels for some time previous. An Eng
lish paper of January, 1776, has the following:
“ The flag taken from a provincial privateer, is
now deposited in the Admiralty. The field is
white bunting, with a spreading green tree: the
motto, ‘An Appeal to Heaven.’ ”
We have in our possession two very rare pic
tures, the only ones of their kind, perhaps, in ex
istence. They are full-length portraits of Com.
Hopkins, and Gen. Gates, with the American
flags as they existed in 1776 and 1777. These
pictures are engravings finely covered, and ce
mented with transparent varnish to glass plates,
in order to preserve the tinting in all its fresh
ness. They were executed in London by some
friend of the American cause. That of Hopkins
was done in 1776. It represents the Commodore,
sword in hand, standing on the quarter-deck of
a ship, in the old continental blue and buff uni
form, and a cocked hat. Another ship in the
background, bears two flags, the pine-tree en
sign, “An Appeal to Heaven,” and another ex
hibiting a rattlesnake, with the motto “ Don’t
tread upon me.” Tho rattlesnake flag is said to
have originated at the South. According to
some accounts it was hoisted on board the Alfred
and the Alliance, but of this we have no positive
kowledge.
The portrait of Gen. Gates was done in 1778.
It represents him on the tented field, after having
signed the convention for tho surrender of Bur
goyne. Over the General’s marquee is a flag
with thirteen red and white strips, but no stars
This was the earliest which borc*the name of the
American Union Flag. It is first mentioned as
having been hoisted on the Western heights of
Charlestown, in January, 1776 Lieut. Carter, of
the British army, under the date of January 26,
says : —“ The King’s speech was sent by a flag
to them on the Ist instant. In a short time after
they received it, they hoisted an Union Flag
above the continental, with thirteen stripes, at
Mount Pisgah. Their citadel fired thirteen guns
and gave the like number of cheers.” This was
the speech of George 111. to parliament, denoun
cing the Americans as rebels, which excited so
much indignation throughout the colonies. The
British Annual Register of 1776, in describing
the resentment of the people, states that they
“burnt the speech, and changed their colons
from a plain red ground, which they had hither
to used, to a flag with thirteen stripes as a sym
bol of the number and union of the colonics.”
This Union Flag is mentioned as being worn by
the fleet under Hopkins, in February, 1776, but
was not the one hoisted by Paul Jones.
The Union Flag of thirteen plain stripes pre
vailed for about a year and a half, when the hap
py taste of some unknown individual suggested
a new embellishment, and it received the addi
tion of the stars by a resolution of Congress, in
the following words: —
“In Congress, June 14th 1777, Resolved, That
the flag of the thirteen United States, be thir
teen stripes, alternately red and white ; that the
Union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, re
representing a new constellation.”
As new States were added to the Union, from
time to time, new stripes were added to the flag,
till the number had increased to fifteen or twen
ty. At length, about thirty years ago, the
stripes were reduced by act of Congress to the
original number of thirteen.
GIBRALTER A HUMBUG.
David Urquhart, an Englishman, and likewise
a Member of Parliament, has written and pub
lished a work entitled “ The Pillars of Hercules;
or Travels in Spain and Morocco f 9 In this
work Mr. Urquhart takes all the romance out of
the celebrated fortress of Gibralter, and adds a
few plain facts, which must be particularly inter
esting to Englishmen, in reference to its usesand
cost to the people. As a plain matter-of-fact de
scription of what has always been considered an
impregnable fortress, this extract will be read
with interest: —
There is no place of which it is more difficult
to form an idea without seeing it, than Gibralter.
One naturally expects to find a fortress closing
the Mediterranean with its celebrated galleries
and enormous guns facing the straitslt is no
thing of the kind.
The Straits are, at the narrowest part, seven
miles and a quarter wide; but that part is fifteen
miles from Gibralter. It is only after you have
passed the Narrows that you see the “Rock”
away to the left. Ceuta, in like manner, recedes
to the right; the width being here twelve miles.
The current runs in the centre, sweeping vessels
along, and instead of being exposed to inconve
nience from either fortress, they would generally
find it difficult to get under their guns. The
batteries and galleries face Spain, and look land
ward, nut seaward. .Whatever its value in other
respects, it is quite a mistake to suppose that it
commands tho Straits, or has ever had a gun
mounted for that purpose.
Gibralter is a tongue three miles long and one
broad, running out into the sea, pointing to
Africa, and joined to Spain at tho northern ex
tremity by a low isthmus of sand: it presents an
almost perpendicular face to tho Spanish coast.
Seen from tho “ Queen of Spain’s Chair,” it re
sembles a lion couching on tho point, its head to
ward Spain, its tail toward Africa, as if it had
cleared the Straits at a spring. Geologically
speaking, it belongs to tho African hills, which
are limestone, and not to those of the opposite
Spanish coast, which are crystaline. Mount
Abyla is called by the Moors after Muza, who
planned the expedition, and Calpe is named after
Tarif, the leader who conducted it. Seen from
the mountains above Algeeiras, the rock resem
bles a man lying on his back with his head on
one side. The resemblance of Mount Athos to a
man 1 have made out in a similar manner.
Gibralter has neither dock nor harbor. The
Bay and anchorage are commanded by the Span
ish forts, St. Barbara and St. Philip. These are
levelled at present; but they will arise on the
only occasion that we can require protection—
that is to say, a war with Spam. They, there
fore, must be restored in the mind’s eye, if you
would form any estimate of the value of this for
tress in case of war. They were dismantled dur
ing the late war by tho Spanish government, lest
th© French should occupy them, and destroy the
English shipping. The Spanish government,
however, formally reserved its right to rebuild
them. The question has been lately raised b>
our sinking one of their men-of-war in their own
waters, while pursuing a smuggler.
The guns of St. Barbara command the anchor
age and batter the harbor; the shells from it and
St. Philip pass clean over the Rock, lengthways,
and can be dropped into every creek where a
shoulder of rock might shelter a vessel from the
direct fire. Daring the seige by France and
Spain, the post was of no use. Unless when su
perior at sea, we had to sink our vessels to save
them.
Gibralter does not command the Staits. It
does not present means of repairs for the navy.
It does not afford shelter for shipping in case of
war. It does not advantage, but seriously in
commodes our trade. It does not afford the
means of invading or of overawing, or even in any
way annoying Spain, however much it may irn-
f° r . no country, populous region,
V c i ty is ex posed to it, and no
by land or sea which it can command.
GatJ ip o’ he cons pired for the parti- 1
ri, i xi Spanish monarchy, on the demise of 1
unarlos thei Second, stipulated for Gibralter, the
ports of Mahon and Oran, and a portion of ’
fe s transatlantic dominions. On the death i
fcno last of the lino of Philip Le Bel, Louis ;
Al \ . was bought off by tho offer of the crown for
ms grandson. The English and tho Dutch then
set up Charles the Third, and sent a squadron in
his name to summon Gibralter to surrender.
Ihe garrison consisted only of one hundred and
ninety men; but it held out. Tho Dutch and
English battered, and took it. The flag of
Charles the Third was hoisted, but suddenly
hauled down and replaced by the English, to the
surprise and indignation of our Dutch allies.
Thus was revealed tho secret condition of the
compact.
Gibralter was all that England did get out of
that war, and as this robbery went a great way
to ensure her discomfiture, and to establish Philip
the Fifth upon the throne, we may consider Gib
ralter as the cause of tho first of those ruinous
wars which, made without due authority, and
carried on by anticipations of Revenue, have in
troduced among us those social diseases which
have counterbalanced and perverted the mechan
ienl odvn.ncement of modern times.
Gibralter was confirmed to ug at the treaty of
Utrecht, but without any jurisdiction attached
to it, and upon the condition that no smuggling
should be carried on thence into Spain. These
conditions we daily violate. We exercise juris
diction by cannon shot in the Spanish waters
(for the Bay is all Spanish). Under our batte
ries, the smuggler runs for protection ; he ships
his bales at our quays; he is either the agent of
our merchants, or is insured by them ; and the
flag-post at the top of the Rock*'is used to signal
to him the movements of the Spanish cruisers.
When this was told to M. Thiers, he would
not believe.it, till he went out and watched the
balls and flags, and had the use explained to him
by a boatman of the port.
We take it for granted that Gibralter has been
honorably, some will even say chivalrously, won
in fair fight; that it has been secured by treaty,
and is retained on duly observed conditions ; or,
perhaps, we never trouble ourselves about such
matters, and imagine, therefore, that other na
tions are equally indifferent; but if any one of
us would take the trouble to imagine the fortress
of Dover in the possession of France, or Austria,
or Russia, ho would then comprehend why Na
poleon said that “ Gibralter was a pledge which
England had given to France by securing to her
self the undying hatred of Spain.”
Napoleon, in captivity, being asked if he real
ly had the intention of attacking Gibralter, or
the hope of getting possession of it, answered,
“ It was not my business to relieve England fi om
such a possession. It shuts nothing, it opens no
thing, it leads to nothing,—it is a pledge given
by England to France, because it ensures to Eng
land the undying hatred of Spain.”
Now let us see tho cost. The first item in tho
account is tho Spanish War of Succession. From
the consequences of that war and the retention
of Gibralter, the family compact of the Bourbons
arose. The subsequent European wars are thus
partly the cost-price of Gibralter.
This combined power weighed constantly
against England and her fortune. If these ef
fects were to be calculated in money, it would be
by hundreds of millions. The actual outlay,
however, is enormous. Gibralter must have cost
at least If any one wore to do us
the favor of taking it off our hands, we should
save more, for the interest of that
sum is absorbed by its yearly outlay '
I cannot speak of this place in any sense as
English. I recollect only and describe it
as Moorish. To the Moors it owes its reputa
tion and its strength ; and it had for them value.
It was acquired by them in a fair, open, stand-up
fight. It was selected with judgment, fortified
with skill, and defended with valor. The reason
why the place was of importanca to the Moors
was, that they were invading Spainfrom Africa,
and that, without the superiority at sea.
We have had experience of Gibralter for a
century and a half: we have carried on great
wars during that time, maritime and territorial
combined. The Mediterranean, as well as the
ocean, has been the field of our-operations. Spain
has been the arena of contest. In the history of
time, there has been no series of events so calcu
lated to bring out tho value of this fortress, if it
had any, (except as above stated,) yet what have
we to show 3 Merely a position which we have
defended. We never acted from it; we have
never invaded Spain by it; we have never sup
ported Spain through it; we have never refitted
at it. It has figured in war solely in consequence
of operations against it, or by the necessity of
accumulating and locking up there our resources
for its protection.
THS OLD MAN ELOQUENT.
John Quincy Adams was born in the then
Province of Massachusetts, while she was gird
ing herself for the great Revolutionary struggle
which was then before her. His parentage is
too well known to need even an allusion; his
father seemed born to aid in the establishment of
our free government, and his mother was a suit
able companion and co-laborer of such a patriot.
The cradle hymns of the child were the songs of
liberty. The power and confidence of man for
self-government were the topics which he most
frequently heard discussed by the wise men of
the day, and the inspiration thus caught, gave
form and pressure to his afterlife. Thus early
imbued with the love of free institutions, educat
ed by his father for the service of his country,
and early led by Washington to its altar, he
stood before the world as one of its eminent
statesmen. He occupied, in turn, almost every
place of honor which the country could give him
and for more than half a century has been thus
identified with its history.
While yet a young man, he was, in May,
1794, appointed Minister Resident to the States
General of the United Netherlands. In May,
1796, two years after, he was appointed Minister
Plenipotentiary at Lisbon, in Portugal. These
honors were conferred upon him by George
Washington, with the advice and consent of the
Senate.
In May 1797, he was appointed Minister Pleni
potentiary to the King of Prussia. In March,
1798, and probably while at Berlin, he was ap
pointed a Commissioner, with full powers to
negotiate a treaty of amity and commerce with
Sweden.
After his return to the United States, he was
elected by the Legislature of Massachusetts a
Senator, and discharged tho duties of that sta
tion from the 4th of March, 1803, until June,
1808, when, differing from his colleague and from
the State upon a great political question, he re
signed his seat. In June, 1809, he was nominat
ed and appointed Minister Plenipotentiary to
the Court of St. Petersburg!!.
While at that Court, in February, 1811, he
was appointed an Associate Justice in ihe Su
■ preme Court of the United States, to fill a
. vacancy occasioned by the death of Judge Cush
ing, but never took his seat upon the bench.
In May, 1813, he, with Messrs. Clay, Gallatin
, and Bayard, was nominated Envoy Extraordinary
and Minister Plenipotentiary to negotiate a
treaty of peace with Great Britain, under the
mediation of Russia, and a treaty of commerce
with Russia. From causes which it is unneces
sary to notice, nothing was accomplished under
this appointment. But afterward, in January,
1814, he, with Messrs. Clay, Gallatin, Bayard
and Russell, were appointed Ministers Plenipo
tentiary and Extraordinary to negotiate a treaty
of peace, and a treaty of commerce with Great
Britain. This mission succeeded in effecting a
pacification, and the name of Mr. Adams is sub
scribed to the treaty of Ghent.
After.this eventful crisis in our public affairs,
he was, in February, 1815, selected by Mr. Mad
ison to represent the country, and protect its in
terests, at the Court of Sb. James; and he re
mained there as Envoy Extraordinary and Min
ister Plenipotentiary until Mr. Monroe became
President of the United States.
On the sth of March, 1817, at the commence
ment of the new administration, ho was appoint
ed Secretary of the State, and continued in tho
office while that gentleman was at the head of
the administration.
In 1825, he was elected his successor, and dis
charged the duties of President for one term,
ending on the 3d of March, 1829.
Here followed a brief period of repose. from
public service, and Mr. Adams retired to his
iamily mansion at Quincy; but was elected a
' member of the House of Representatives, from
the District in which he lived, at the next elec
tion which occurred after his return to it, and
took his seat in December, 1831. He retained
it, by successive elections, to the day of his
death.
These services cover a period of more than
half a century; and what language can portray
. more forcibly the great merits of the deceased,
, the confidence reposed in him by the public, or
’ the ability with which he discharged tho duties
which devolved upon him, than this simple nar
. ration of recorded facts 3 An ambitious man,
could not desire a more emphatic eulogy.
Mr. Adams, however, was not merely a states
man, but a ripe, accomplished scholar, who, dur
ing a life of remarkably well directed industry,
made those great acquirements which adorned
his character, and gave to it the manly strength
of wisdom and intelligence.
As a statesman and patriot, he will rank
among the illustrious men of an age prolific of
great names, and greatly distinguished for its
progress in civilization. The productions of his
pen are proofs of a vigorous mind, imbued with
a profound knowledge of what it investigates,
and of a memory which was singularly retentive
and capacious.
But his character is not made up of those con
spicuous qualities alone. Ho will be remember
ed for tho virtues of private life, for his elevated
moral example, for his integrity, for his devotion
to his duties as a Christian, as a neighbor, and
as the head of a family. In all these relations,
few persons havo set a more steadfast or bright
er example, and few have descended to the grave
where the broken ties of social and domestic
affection have been more sincerely lamented.
It is believed to havo been the earnest wish of
his heart to die, like Chatham, in the midst of
his labors. It was a sublime thought, that
where ho had toiled in the house of the nation,
in hoars of the day devoted to its service, the
stroke of death should reach him, and there
sever the ties of love and patriotism which bound
him to earth. He fell in his scat, attacked by
paralysis, of which he had before been a subject.
To describe the scene which ensued would be
impossible. It was more than the spontaneous
gush of feeling which all such events call forth,
so much to the honor of our nature. It was tho
expression of reverence for his moral worth, of
admiration for his great intellectual endowments
and of veneration tor his age and public services.
All gathered round the sufferer, and the strong
sympathy and deep feeling which were manifest
ed, showed that the business of the House (which
was instantly adjourned) was forgotten amid tho
distressing anxieties of the moment. He was
soon removed to the apartment of the Speaker,
where ho remained, surrounded by afflicted
friends, till the weary clay resigned its immortal
spirit. “ This is tho end of earth !” Brief but
emphatic words. They wero among the la t
uttered by the dying patriot.
Punctual to every duty, death found him at
tho post of duty ; and where else could it have
found him at any stage of his career, for the fifty
years ot his illustrious public life 3 From the time
of his first appointment by Washington to his las:
election by the people of his native town, where
could death havo iound him but at the post oi
duty 3 At that post in the fullness of age, in the
ripeness of renown, crowned with honors, sur
rounded by his family, his friends, and admirers,
and in the very presence of the national repre
sentation, he was gathered to his fathers, leaving
behind him the memory pf public services which
are the history of his country for half a century,
and the example of a life, public and private,
which should be the study and the model of the
generations of h>s countrymen.
Ihus closed the life of one whose purity,
patriotism, talents and learning, were admits d
by the whole nation.
An exchange paper gives an account of a
woman who is so large around the waist that
her husband can’t hug her all at once, but when
he takes one hug he makes a chalk mark, so as
to know where to commence the next time, and
thus goes round.
THE IRISH EXILES.
Thomas Francis Meagher, who is at present a
resident of Ross, Van Dieman's Land, in a let- ’
ter to a friend at home, published in the Cork
Reporter, gives the following description of the i
village to which British kindness has introduced i
him ; and also the manner in which ho manages 1
to meet John Martin, and O'Dougherty, etc.: — ]
“ Ross consists of forty five houses—the most
of them being but one story high, and seldom
venturing as much as a sky-light. Amongst j
these forty-five houses, I include the military
barracks, where the soldiers yawn and smoke all ;
day; the police station, the external appearance ’
of which reminds me of a neat weigh-house, in
some decent, tidy little village at home; two j
sentry boxes; the Methodist chapel, with a bar- i
rel organ inside of it; the Protestant church on 1
tho top of a hill, looking very cold and disconso
late ; two inns, an ‘ iron mongery and general <
warehouse,’ where every description of article, ,
whether of food, furniture, or dress, can be had—
where, in a word, a green cheese, or a gridiron
can be procured with equal facility; the post of
fice, a disgrace to letters, and I should say a con
siderable drawback upon the humanizing influ
ence they are supposed to produce; an ‘eating
house for travellers,’ half a dozen dog-houses ;
three private residences; a smith’s forge, and
an infant school without windows or roof. The
defence of this important place is entrusted to
the two soldiers 1 have mentioned; whilst its in
ternal peace and propriety are guaranteed by the
presence of three constables, who seem to me to
do nothing but chop firewood all day. You can
easily imagine, then, the rapture with which my
days come and vanish in this Elysium of the
South Seas.
O’Dogherty and I can meet any day we choose
—the southern boundary of my district being
the northern one of his. This boundary is form
ed by a pretty broad stream, called the Black
man’s jiver ; and at a certain point little more
than seven miles from Ross, it is crossed by a
handsome bridge of three arches. At the mid
dle pier of this bridge—that is half way across—
O’Dogherty and 1 meet, generally speaking, eve
ry Monday. Three hundred yards on O’D’s side
of the river, above the bridge, there stands a
very good inn ; and at four o’clock each day of
meeting, the landlord of this inn, attended by
one of his men and a great sheep-dog, comes
down to the ‘ Irish Pier’ with a tray, containing
a joint of lamb, some slices of ham, a fowl of
some sort, and a selection from the vegetables in
season; the man in the rear bringing up a bot
tle of colonial ale, a cheese, a loaf ot bread, and
a proportionate supply of-butter, the sheep-dog
seeing the whole safe, and comfortably deposited
at its destination.
“ I must tell you moreover that, three weeks
ago, upon our comparing the maps of our respec
tive districts, we discovered another point where
the three districts of Campbell Town, Bothwell
and Oatlands also unite, and where consequently
John Martin, Kevin izod O’Dogherty, and Thos.
Francis Meagher, can meet without the slight
est infringement of tho order, which prohibits
any two or more being in the same district to
gether. The last mentioned point is at the
juncture of two lakes, which lie up in the moun
tains 23 miles from Koss, 25 miles from Both
well, and 19 miles from Oatlauds, it is a wild
place certainly; away in the heart of the coun
try; without a sign of human life save a solitary
shepherd and his wife, who live in a hut within
halt a dozen yards of tho point of junction, and
who cook chops and onions for us in the most
expert and liberal manner; a wild, wild place,
covered with forest, stocked with kangaroo, tiger
cats, black swans and snakes. But tho pleas
antest hours L now spend come and pass away
in the midst of all this wildness. Ah! there is
nothing in this world equal to the companionship
of friends; without it, the sweetest, loveliest
scenes become tiresome and distasteful; with it,
the coldest, rudest, wildest spots put on looks of
gladness and seem blest with all good things.—
The government have inflicted the worst punish
ment on us by sotting us apart in the colony,
where they have condemned us to a useless,
wearisome, good-for-nothing existence. 1 sup
pose they were apprehensive that, if permitted
to go together, we would raise another ‘rebel
lion,” and declare Van Dieman’s Laud a free
republic—one and indivisible ! The gentlemen
are vastly mistaken if any such apprehensions
trouble them. If I had a lease of this island for
999 years, and could do what I liked with it in
tne meantime, I declare most sincerely and sol
emnly that I would leave it in the course of four
and-twenty hours, and pitch it to the snakes
which infest it, or any other reptiles, with or
without legs, that had the taste to remain in it.
It is—without the lease exaggeration—a horrible
place to live in.
“ To sum up, all 1 have to say on this subject,
God seems io have designed this land for an
Eden, but man has cruelly destroyed it. The
climate, the scenery, tho capabilities of the soil,
tho resources of its woods, its rivers—every
‘ faculty with which it has been blessed bears tes
timony of the beauty and beneficence of heaven.
1 But, over all this beauty, over all these gifts,
j the slime of the old empire's outcast guilt is
’ flung, and there it lies turning into foulest lep
rosy, and tainting with its poison everything
around it.”
HATHEE TOO KNOWING.
. An article is going the rounds of the papers,
giving an account of the wonderful performances
of a collection of remarkable well educated birds.
These performances are as marvellous as the
“Rochester Knockings,” though there is no
pretence made to spiritual agency in the matter.
’ Barnum should look after this bird-teaching
beauty at once, if he has not done so already.
i Here is the story:
A Miss Vandermeerch is now exhibiting in
1 London a collection of bijds which seem to have
1 attained a higher degree of mental development
’ than we recollect to have been previously recor
‘ ded of this class of animals. .The birds are four
’ in number, consisting of the common goldfinch,
’ the cardinalfinch, and two other species of finch.
1 They are in a very healthy condition, and perform
their feats at the command" of their young
tress —who does her conjurations with a peculiar
grace—passing from an elegant cage on to the
table on which it is placed. The chief perform
’ ances consist in the birds selecting from a long
1 line of closely packed cards, arranged with the
edges uppermost on the table, those which con
! tain answers to questions put by the company.
' J Thus, a bird is requested to give the result of
adding seven to five, when it selects from the
’ hopeless-looking heap a card containing the
1 number twelve. Tho work of subtraction is in
like manner performed with unerring certainty
—by a process in which there would bo little
’ hope of the human subject not making mistakes.
Letters are marked by the company in books,
5 and without any apparent communication the
birds select from amongst the interminable cards
b those on which the same letters existed. Cards
are marked and placed in the pack in such away
that those who put them there can by no means
1 discover them again—but what they cannot do,
r is immediately accomplished by the birds. There
b are other performances —but like those named,
3 all pointing to one set of conclusions. Watches
3 are examined by any of tho company—and the
bird reports the hour and minute at which they
r stand .’—words are proposed by whoever will, and
’ Jhe little feathered conjurers select the letters that
1 'compose them, where human patience would
have a weary hunt:—a common die is flung into
J a hat, and for greater mystery covered with a
D handkerchief, and the winged oracle proclaims
b from a distance the number of points that stand
on the upper surface. Those are a sufficient spe •
cimen of the wonderful things performed by these
’ little creatures—who, though they, do not talk,
beat tho talking birds of Arabian fable. It is
quite evident, on reflection, that the most won
derful performer of the whole is the young lady
• herself; who so naively exhibits these birds that
3 she appears as disinterested as any of the specta
tors in the room. A marvellous power of obser
vation on her part, combined with the secret of
communicating her knowledge to the birds,
3 doubtless constitute ihe means by which the ef-
L foots are produced. But tho secret is admirably
kept; and by whatever means the results are
obtained, they must have involved immense la
’ bor and skill.
J An Incident from Life. —The Cincinnati
t Nonpareil gives an affecting incident, which oc
curred in that city :
We seldom meet with such an instance of af
-1 fection and self sacrifice as that displayed lately
1 by a poor Irishman in this city. He had been in
3 the employ of a gentleman who had a large num
ber of hands engaged, and when his first pay-day
i came, his employer could only give him a dollar
• on his week’s work. The second pay-day came
, round in its turn; the employer paid off bis
r hands, and was congratulating himself that his
j money held out, when, looking around him, he
■ discovered the Irishman to whom he had only
, given a dollar the week before. The gentleman
felt deeply mortified at overlooking him, and his
■ consequent inability to pay him off. Said he—
“ James, 1 am sorry, but I have only one dollar
, for you again. Why did you not speak 3”
t “ Sure, sir, you was busy, and I could wait
l your convanicnce,” was the reply.
“ Can you possibly get along with a dollar 3
: I will get you some more on Monday morning.”
: “A dollar’ll do —I’ve been livin’ on a dollar a
s wake since I’ve been in the country. I’m savin’
3 up for the wife and children in ould Ireland.”
i “ But your shoes are off your feet, and your
, coat is nearly gone—you’ll want some clothing.”
) “ Divil a bit do my feet care, or my back
aither, for that —I’ll let the money save up in
your hands till I get enough to send for the old
■ woman. Here’s three dollars that I’ve saved,
l which your honor will plaze kape for me.”
“ Wait here a moment,” said the gentleman,
I as he stepped out. In a few minutes, however,
, he returned vzith a substantial pair of boots and
a comfortable coat for his honest workman.
The tears rolled down the poor fellow’s cheeks
i as he received the gifts ; and as the door opened
for his egress, he murmured—
■ “ Goa bless your honor—the wife’s heart will
■ soon be aisy, and tho children’s too.”
_ A Hoosier in Bos ion.—The editor of the Cin
cinnati Inquirer, writing from Boston, tells the
following story:—Western folks feel in this city
as though in a straight waistcoat, for their per
sonal liberty is so hedged in that freedom of ac
tion is gone. Those addicted to smoking, espe-
• cially, feel twice the desiro to promenade the
> streets, cigar in mouth, from the bare fact that
the enemies of the fragrant weed have forbid its
use in the streets of Boston. I heard an excel
.’ lent anecdote of the adventures of a live Hoosier
; in this city, which illustrates the municipal reg
ulations of this mummy dissecting city, better
than a book. After a good, dinner at his hotel,
he ignited a cigar, and started out for a stroll.
After a few steps a policeman tapped him on the
shoulder, and informed him that tho penalty was
: two dollars for the offence of smoking. He
promptly pulled out a five dollar bill, and receiv
ed a three in change. Proceeding on his walk,
in a few minutes he next met a beggar girl, who
asked for something to eat. Recollecting that
he had the remains of a hunk of gingerbread, the
peculiar diet of Hoosierland, in his pocket, he
generously proffered it to tho mendicant. Again
was he tapped on the shoulder by the policeman,
and told it was against the laws of Boston to give
away offal, as it all belonged to the city, and re
quested two more dollars for his grave offence.
throe dollar bill was drawn out, and when
the policeman tendered one in change it was re
fused by tho Hoosier, with the cool remark, “No,
keep it; I shall want to whistle in a few min
utes.”
A Knowing Boy.—A minister at church ap
proached a roguish looking little urchin, about
ten years old, and laying his hand upon his
shoulder, thus addressed him:
“My son, I believe the devil has got hold of
you.”
“1 believe he has, too,” was tho significant
reply of the urchin.
Let Orphans Alone. —Some boys playing to
gether, one (an orphan) was taunted by bis play
mates that he could not tell who his father was t .
Stung by the reproach, with a ready wit, ha
quickly retorted upon the unfeeling boy who ut
tered it: “ I cannot, indeed, say who my father
was, but can your mother tell who yours was 3”
He was reproached no more.
A Man Overboard.—About eight o’clock, I
looking full to windward, I saw a great black- ;
ness in the sky, which I took to be the prelude of
a gust of no common strength. At the same mo- I
ment the mate of the watch ordered the topman
alof to hand the topsails, wo carrying at the mo
ment no higher canvass. My station was upon
the foretopsail yard arm, and as I clung by the
man-ropes to the great creaking pieces of tim
ber, grasping the fluttering canvass of the sail.
I thought I had never seen a finer sight than the
great rolling ship below, wallowing and laboring '
in the white foaming seas, which would some
times strike her.ar.d pour heavy masses of clear
green water in a flood over the decks. When we
were securing, the sail, the motion aloft was very
great, we being violently swung from side to
side in such wise as well might make giddy even
the grizzled head of an old mariner. Meanwhile
tho gust to windward was coming fast, the black
ness .increased, and a rushing sound, as of the
chariot-wheels of a host, rose above the rude
clamor of the sea. Then, amid great showers of
flying brine, which it drove before it, the fierce
wind struck the Golden Grove bodily over on her
side. At the same instant I heard a hoarse voice
below summoning the men from the yards down
upon deck; but as 1 was about to obey, the tem
pest grew terrible. There were great clouds of
mist above me, through which 1 could see nought
below but the white patches of waves breaking
over the strong bulwarks of the ship. Suddenly
the canvass, which had not been quite secured,
was torn open, as it were with a loud screech, by
the wind, and flapped and banged so, that I felt
the very mast shako’ and quiver violently, while
1 received rude blows from the loos© and flying
ropes, insomuch as, while being half blinded by
that and the pelting of the brine, I shut my
eyes, and bending down my head, grasped the
yard firmly in my arms. I might have remained
thus three or four seconds, when 1 heard the loud
howl of tho wind suddenly increase to a sort of
eldritch scream. In a moment the mast gave two
violent jerks, and with the third 1 heard five or
six sounding twangs, like tho breaking of haip
strings, and immediately a crashing of wood.
Then, still clinging to the yard, 1 was hurried
with a mighty rush through the air, and, sud
denly plunged down into the choking brine,
which rose all gurgling over my head, and 1
knew at the same moment that the Golden
Grove had carried away her foretopmast, and
that I was overboard in the boiling sea.— Angus
Reach's Leonard Lindsay.
Preparing for a Daguerreotype.—-A brace
of “lovyers,” anxious to secure each other’s
shadow ere tho substance faded, stepped into a
Daguerreotype establishment, recently, to sit for
tho “picters ” The lady gave precedence to her
swain, who, she said, “had got to bo tuk first,
and raal natral.” He brushed up his tow head
of hair, gave a twist or two to his neckerchief,
asked his gal if his sheert collar stood about X,
and planted himself in the operator’s chair; be
soon assumed the physiognomical characteristics
of a poor mortal in a dentist’s hands, about to
part with one of his eye teeth. “ Now, dew
look purty I” begged tho lady, casting at him
one ot her most languishing glances. The pic
ture was taken, and when produced, it reminded
tho girl, as she expressed it, “jist how Josh
looked when he got over tho measles !” and as
this was not an era in her suitor’s history, par
ticularly worthy of her commemoration, she in
sisted that “he should stand it again.” He
obeyed, and she attended him to the chair,
“Josh,” said she, “jist look like smilin’, and
then kinder don’t ” The poor fellow tried to
follow the infinite injunction. “ La,” she cried,
“ you look all puckered up.” One direction fol
lowed another, but with as little success. At
last, growing impatient and becoming desperate,
she resolved to try an expedient, which she con
sidered infallible, and exclaimed, “I don’t keer
if there is folks around.” She enjoined the ope
rator to stand at his camera; she then sat in her
feller’s lap, and placing her arms about his neck,
managed to cast a shower "of flaxen ringlets as a
screen between the operator and her proceedings,
which, however, were betrayed by a succession
of amorous sounds which revealed her expedient.
When this “billing and cooing ” had lasted a
few minutes, the cunning girl jumped from
Josh’s lap, and clapping her hands, cried to the
astonished artist; “Now you’ve got him! put
him threw!” >
The Raven in a New Shape.—Somebody
has been overhauling Poo’s poem of the “ Ra
ven,” and the following is the result:
“ Once upon an evening dreary, while I pon
dered lone and weary, over many an olden paper,
reading forgotten stories o’er; suddenly 1 heard
a curious, lonely, ghostly, strange, mysterious
grating underneath the floor—only this, and
nothing more. And again I trimmed the taper,
and once more resumed my paper—aged, forgot
ten, antique paper—poring its ancient contents
o’er; when the same mysterious grating, some
what louder than before—and it seemed like some
one sawing wood beneath my office floor; ’tis no
mouse, thought I, but more. As I listened,
. each particular hair stood upright, porpendic
' ular —cold, outstanding drops, orbicular, strange,
mysterious terror, filled my soul with fear and
1 horror such as I never felt before; much I won
dered what this curious grating meant beneath
the door ! Thus I sat and eyed the floor. And
thus watching, gazing, pondering, trembling,
doubting, fearing, wondering, suddenly the wall
, was sundering, as for Banquo’s ghost of yore—
and while gazing much astounded, instantly
there from bounded, a huge upon the floor!
Not the least obeisance made he, caring naught
for lord or lady, but a moment stayed he, and
nothing more. And while gazing at each other,
suddenly outsprang another, somewhat grayer
than the other, with the weight of years he bore;
then with imprecations dire, high I raised my
boot and higher, and a step advancing nigher,
whirled it across the floor; but the little imps
had scattered, and the door was bruised and bat
tered—that I hit and nothing more.” »
Then’s the Time ’—When cattle snuff the
air and gather together in a corner of the field
with their heads to leeward, or take shelter in
the sheds—when sheep leave their pastures with
reluctance —when goats go to sheltered posts—
' when asses bray frequently and shake their ears
—when dogs lie much about the fireside and ap
pear drowsy—when cats turn their backs to the
firo and wash their faces —when pigs cover them
selves more than usual in litter—when cocks crow
at unusual hours and flap their wings much —
when hens chaunt—when ducks and geese are
unusually clamorous—when pigeons wash them
selves —when peacocks squall loudly from trees
—when the guinea-fowl makes an incessant grat
ing clamor—when sparrows chirp loudly, and
calmorously congregate on the ground or in the
| hedge—when swallows fly low, and skim their
wings in water, on accout of the flies upon which
they feed having descended towards the ground
i —when the carrion-crow croaks solitarily—when
i water wild-fowl dip and wash unusually—when
i moles throw up hills more industriously than
usual—when toads creep out in numbers—when
i frogs croak —when bats squeak and enter houses
, —when the singing birds take shelter —when the
; robbin approaches nearer the dwelling of man —
, when bees leave their hives with caution and fly
s only short distances—when ante carry their eggs
> busily—when flies bite severely, and become
' troublesome —in numbers—when earth-worms
I appear on tho surface of the ground and crawl
i about—and when the larger sorts of snails ap
l pear, look out for rain !
' j&g-One of the best and soundest lawyers that
. ever sat on the bench of Massachusetts, was
Judge P. He was always distinguished for the
urbanity of his manners, and the true benevolence
5 of his spirit; and the story I have now to relate,
’ illustrates, quite forcibly, this characteristic :
4 Judge P. was raised in Barnstable, and at the
" time we refer to, assisted his mother as much as
[ possible, in keeping a country inn, a mode of
subsistence to which she was driven by the death
of her husband.
r One evening, a way-worn traveller, armed with
[ a bundle suspended from a cane, entered the inn,
’ and asked for something to eat. His dress was
’ not calculated to impress the beholder with any
vast ideas of wealth, but rather of one who liv
' ed by travelling on foot and begging a night’s
lodging from benevolent innkeepers. Mrs. P.
cast a glance at the traveller, and seeing his
shabby coat, formed a pretty accurate estimate
of his ability to pay for whatever might be fur
nished him.
She left the room to examine the larder, and
- in a short time returned, and having set before
r him a well picked bone of beef, she went out of
i the room, at the same time saying to her son,
. John, it will be worth about twenty cents.
7 Our traveller attacked the beef, and after some
r time, having perfectly macerated it, he rose and
j asked John how much he was to pay.
j “ Well,” said John, “ mother thought it
j would be worth about twenty cents to pick a
j bone, and I think so, too; here’s the money,”
r and he generously presented the traveller with a
i pistareen.
j m-Mirr
Don’t Dream any More. —Sir Wm. Johnson
r obtained irom the Indian Sachem Hendrick,
nearly one hundred thousand acres of choice
j land, now lying chiefly in Herkimer county,
north of the Mohawk, in tho following manner :
’ The sachem, being at the baronet’s house, saw a
’ richly embroidered coat and coveted it. The
i. next morning he said to Sir William, “ Brother,
’ me dream last night.”
“ Indeed,” answered Sir William, “ what did
• my red brother dream V'
’ “ Me dream that coat be mine.”
: “It is yours,” said the shrewd baronet.
l Not long afterwards Sir William visited the
l sachem, and he too had a dream.
“ Brother,” he said, “ 1 dreamed last night.”
“ What did my pale-faced brother dream 3”
“ I dreamed that this tract of land was mine ”
, describing a square bounded on the south by the
i Mohawk, on tne cast by Canada Creek, and on
the north and west by objects equally known.
i Headrick was astonished. Ho saw the enor
l mity of the request, but was not to be outdone
in generosity. He sat thoughtfully for a mo
ment, and then said, —
“ Brother, the land is yours, but you must not
dream again.”
The title was confirmed by the British govern
ment, and the tract was called to Royal Grant.
An Interesting Fact.—lce is the most pure
state of water. Professor Farroday, of London,
has made a number of experiments proving this
fact. This would prove that ice water was the
purest and most wholesome beverage, provided,
the body is not over-herted at the time of drink
ing. The professor in his lecture showed how
entirely coloring matter, salts, and alkalies are
expelled in freezing. A solution of sulphate of
indigo, diluted sulphuric acid, and diluted am
mo ala were partially frozen in glass tubes : as
soon as the operation had been carried on long
enough to produce an icy lining of each tube,
the unfrozen liquid was poured out and the ice
dislodged. This ice was found in every instence
perfectly colorless, and when dissolved, perfectly
free from acid or -Ikali, although the unfrozen
liquid exhibited in flic first experiment a more
intense blue colo , in tho second a stronger acid,
and in the third a more powerful alkaline reac
tion than the liquor which was put into tho freez •
ing mixture.
Owning Up.—Tho old proverb that “many a
true wqrd is spoken in jest,” was forcibly illus
trated a few Bundays since. A Free Church
minister, in Glasgow, gave out as the tho morn
ing lesson the 4th section of tho 19th Psalm, and
while the congregation were looking out the
“portion” in their Bibles, tho Doctor took out.
his mull, and seizing a hasty pinch with finger
and thumb, regaled nis nose with tho snuff—he
then began tho lesson: “My soul cleave th unto
tho dust!” Tne titter that ran round tho church,
and the confusion of tho poor priest, showed that
both tho congregation and he felt the Psalmist’s
“pinch. ”
A lawyer, tho other day, wont into one of
our barber-shops to procure a wig. In taking
the dimensions of the lawyer’s head, the boj
exclaimed: —“ Why, how long your head is,
sir!”
“ Yes,” replied our worthy friend, “ we law
yers must have long heads-”
The boy proceeded in his vocation, but at
length he exclaimed—Lord, sir, your head is as
f/ticA; as it is long!” The lawyer mizzled.
SKMffIILU
THE WOiNDER
BLESSIHG OF THE AGE!
THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY MEDICINE.
IN THE WORLD!!!
TMs ISxtrnct im put wp in quarl bottles $
it Im six times cheaper, pleasanter,
and warranted Miipcrioi* to any
wold. Et cures without voni
iting, purging, sickening,
or debilitating Jhe
patient.
WE HAVE MANUFACTURED
1.500,000 Bottles of this Sarsaparilla
during the past year, and are now putting up
5000 BOTTIjES PSR DAT,
USING more or- thr SARSAPARILLA ROOT
IN ONE MONTH than all the ot.hi-’r MANU
FACTURERS OF SARSAPARILLA IN ONEYEar.
Dr. S. P. TOWOESIPS SARSAPARSLU
IS WARRANTED TO KEEP FOR
ANY LENGTH OF TIME, IN ALL CLIMATES.
This Extract has cured more of the fol
lowing diseases THAN all the other adver
tised MEDICINES TOGETHER hIIVC done.
on S£BNCI’S KVBI O
OBSTINATK CUTANEOUS ERUPTIONS,
Pimples or Pustules on the Face,
BLOTCHES, BILES,
CHRONIC SORE EYES,
RIIVG WORM ©R TETTER,
SCALD II EA D ,
Enlargement and Pain of the Bones and Joints,
STUBBORN ULCERS.
SYPHILITIC DISORDERS, LUMBAGO,
SALT RHEUM,
and all diseasesarising from an injudicious
of Mercury, Ascites, or Dropsy, Expo
sure, or Imprudence in Life. It
invariably cures
IBIffEUMATISiJI,
INDIGESTION OR DYSPEPSIA,
Neuralgia, General and Nervous Debility,
PALPITATION OF THE HEART,
Braver Complaint,
INFLAMMATION of the KIDNEYS.
Ladies of pale complexion and consumptive habits,
and such as are debilitatn/1 by those obstructions
which females arc liable to, are restored, by the uaa
of a bottle or two, to bloom and vigor.
. THE NUMBER OF DISEASES mentioned
above, as cured by this preparation of Sarsa
parilla, may seem large : but we are, never
theless, PREPARED TO PROVE, by ail EXTEN3IVK
ARRAY OF CERTIFICATES, that Slicll is the FACT.
zX fraction of the evidence which we possess
concerning each disease, would be received
before any judicial tribunal as complete
demonstration. It must be remembered that
all this frightful array of maladies, though ap
pearing in an endless variety of forms, are
yet similar in their origin and causes; for they
all spring, directly or indirectly, from a cor
rupt fountain. If the blood were in a pure,
healthy, and active state, it would drive all
these complaints from the system, and chrONig
DISEASE WOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE.
CAUTION.
To avoid imposition it will be necessary to
see that
Dr. James R. Chilton’s Certificate
as well as the SIGNATURE of Dr, S. P.
Townsend, is on the outside wrapper of each
bottle.
ALL ORDERS I'o BE DIRECTED TO
NOST RA N & 12 A C Iff, ’
SUCCESSORS TO
CLAPP & TOWNSEUW,
AND SOLE PROPRIETORS OF
DR. S. P. TOWNSEND’S SARSAPARILLA.
. OTate, 82 Nassass-sL,.Sew York.
Sold by all tho principal DRUGGISTS and
STOREKEEPERS generally throughout the
country. i
Put up in square bottles, to hold a full quart, at $1?
pacb. or 3 hoHl.'s for
IMPORTANT
TO THE TRAVELLING PUBLIC.—WAS
opened on the 4th of February, com
plete in all ita ramifications, GUNTEPv’S
NEW, ELEGANT, AND CAPACIOUS
HOTEL, DINING, COFFEE AND OYS
TER SALOONS, No.’s 145 and 147 Fulton sL7whiclu
for beauty of conception, internal arrangements, and
aptness of purpose, are not only unapproached, but un
approachable by any similar establishment in Fulton, or
in any street in the city of New York. One hundred
persons can be accommodated in a style unsurpassable,
with lodging and board, as the bill of fare annexed will
f lly demonstrate.
M BREAKFAST AND TEA.
BeefsteakfidjSausages6d
Broiled Mackerel6d Two Boiled Eggs6d
FishCakes6d Veal Cutlets6d
Fried Clamsfid Buckwheat Cakes6d
Fried Eelsfid Indian Cakesfid
Fried Eggsfid Wheat Cakes. ... 6d
Fried Fishfid Corn Breadfid
Fried HainDd Hot Rollsfid
Fried Liverfid Pork Steaks6d
Fried Tripefid Toast6d
Fried Potatoes3d Extra Bread3d
Ham and Eggsls 3d Tea... 3d
Mutton Chopsfid Coffee... 3<l
Poached Eggsfid
DINNER.
Roast Chickenls fidi Beef Soupfid
Roast Duck Is 6d Boiled Ham6d
Roast Goosels fidiChicken Pie... Is
Roast Turkeyls fidiChicken Soup6d
Roast Pigls IClam Piefid.
Roast Beef.6d Fried Clams6d
Roast Lamb... fid Fish Cakesfid
Roast Porkfid Ham and Eggsls 3d
Roast Veal6d Oyster Piels
Boiled Chickenls fid Lamb Pot Pie... Cd
Boiled Corned Beef.6d Pork and Beansfid
Boiled Fishfid Veal Pie6d
Boiled Muttonfid Extra Vegetables3d.
Boiled Pork6d Beer and Claret, each... 6d
Beefsteakls Bottled Porter and Cider.6d
Beefsteak Piefid Extra Butter3d
DESSERT.
Apple Dumplings6d Custard in cups.... .... .6d
Bread Pudding6d Apple Pie .7*6d
IndianCd Cranberry6d
Plum6d Mince6d
RiceCd Pumpkin6d
Suet6d Peachfid
The Oyster Saloon will be stocked with each and every
variety of bivalves which will be served according to or
der. The Bar will be supplied with the choicest liquors
that our market affords. ....
Having digested the above bill of fare, your attention
is next solicited to the lodging department, which has
been fitted up with every especial requisite for comforc
and convenience. The Beds and Bedding are new, and
of superior quality, and well calculated to promote ‘ tired
nature’s sweet restorer,” and almost cause every one to
exclaim, is it possible that such accommodations can ba
1 afforded for the annexed considerations? viz: Rooms at
; $1,75 and $2.50 per week. Lodging 37>Lcent8 per night*
. P JA27lyfim* H. 11. GUNTER. Proprietor.
> ~~ JeIDTEXi
, AND DINING SALOON, NO. 4 FULTON
STREET.—IMPORTANT TO THE
. TRAVELLING PUBLIC.—The subserib
' ers would respectfully announce to their
1 friends and the public that they have recent- —nAL,”?.
f ly fitted the large building No. 4 Fulton street, as a Ho
tel and Dining Saloon, where every comfort that could
L possibly be desired, on the most economical scale, may
be enjoyed. The Lodging Rooms are not surpassed by
l any in the city for comfort and convenience, and they
have, at a great expense, procured a composition to puts
’ in tho mortar to destroy Roaches and all other insects*
which may be a desirable consideration for those who
• wish to sleep in peace. «
The Larder will always be found stocked with all tha
choice delicacies the markets afford, which will be served
! up at the usual low prices.
>s®“ Boarding and Lodging by the Day or Week.
. Open on Sundays. A. ROGERS & CO.,
je23 3m* No. 4 Fulton st.
, , DAN SWEENEY ,
T ATE NO. 11 ANN STREET—REMOVED
| XJ to 66 Chatham.—The undersigned would ®
call the attention of the travelling and resi-
! dent public, to the fact, that in order to ex-
’ tend his business, and provide sufficient ac- -yZ-A
commodation, he has enlarged his Salooii?, and conducts
' his new establishment on precisely the same plan as his
former one. His new stand is now unsurpassed in ex
! tent, comfort and airiness by any in the city. The on—
I largement was forced upon him by increased patronage*
and his stand selected for its central location. The pub
lic, both transient and resident, are solicited to examine
; his new position, where will always bo found, the sub
stantial element of life of the best quality, and in the
: same excellent style which has rendered this establish
ment so popular. The above is the only establishment
I, in the city in which he has in any manner an interest*
h See hi3Mendß the DANIEL SWEENEY.
, PRINCE & CO.’S
“IMPROVED PATENT MELODEANS.—“A
' JL new musical instrument, with the
■ lume of tone of a small organ and
, handsomely finished as any piano forte, g y S « F
are offered for sale at wholesale or retail S. S •
by the manufacturers at their depot 87 Fulton st., up
‘ stairs. We can assure the musical public that these in
struments are altogether superior to anything of the kind,
ever offered for sale in this city, and any one who will
take the trouble to call and examine for themselves may
be satisfied of this fact. Wholesale or retail orders ad
dressed to the manufactory, 209 Main st., Buffalo, or to
the deoot 87 FULTON ST., New York, will be prompt
ly attended to. GEO. A. PRINCE & CO.
PRICES.
Four octavo Molodeons extending from C to C, . ..$45
Five do. do. do. Fto F,... 75
Large five octavo, cases elegantly fin-ishedd in tho
a8 tfstyle of the piano-forte 190
A. H. Gale & co.,
DIANO FORTE WARE-ROOMS AND
X MANUFACTORY,
Nos. 104, 100, and 103 K-
THIRD AVENUE,
je3o 3m New York. y a Sc S X&■
HULL'S TRUSS OFFICE,
NO. 4 VESEY ST., (ASTOR HOUSE,)
New York, established for the sale
and application of AMOS G. HULL’S
Invented Instruments for the relief and
cure of Rupture, Burst or Breach of the Ya
Groin, and also for the sale and apnlica
tion of HULL’S UTEKO-ABDOMI- M
NAL SUPPORTER. Ruptufed per
sons may rely upon obtaining at thia
office the best instrumental aid that the
world affordr, while those laboring under prolapsua will,
through the aid of the Supporter, be placed in a condi
tion to obtain speedy relief at the hands of their medical
advisers. au!9 ly*
SELPHO’S FIRST PREMIUM
ANGLESEY LEG.—PATRONIZED
-Il by the most eminent Surgeons
throughout Europe, and by the most dis
tinguished of their professional breth
ren°in this country, and allowed by all
to be the nearest approach to nature
hitherto produced. Introduced into Nij
this country and made solely by
WM. SELPHO, M
24 SPRING ST., New York.
Also, SELPHO’S ARTIFICIAL Hax\D, an entirely
new and useful substitute for a lost hand, which, by
means of a simple arrangement, the top is made to
open and shut the fingers, grasp, &c. Further information
on {application, or by letter, post paid, attended to.
Jf.23 3m*
HULL’S TItUSS
IVO. 4 VESEY STREET, ASTOR HOUSE
NEW YORK. —Patients may rely
upon obtaining at this office the best instru-Z?'' — '~?>£^? -
mental aid that the world affords, (children 'J
trussed at two weeks’ age. Supporters ap
plied in the Female Department by qualified
female attendants. Caution—Genuine instruments are
always signed in ink.
_AUI9-IyJAMOS G. HULL.
FOR FEMALES AND MALES.
QR. LARZETTE’S JUNO CORDIAL, OR
Procreative Elixir, prescribed as an effective resto
rative in cases of debility, impotency, or barrenness, and
all irregularities of nature. It is all that it professes to
be, viz:—Nature’s Great Restorative, and remedy for
those in the married state without offspring. It is a cer
tain cure for seminal omissions, general debility, gleat,
weakness of tho genital organs, nervous affections, lue
corrhea. As an invigorating medicine it is unequalled.
Also, a certain remedy for incipient consumption and in
digestion. Sold only at 67 JOHN ST., by JUDSON &
CO., the only American Agents.
aution aek for ths JUNO CORDIAL , and take uo
other cording ■ fim *
GOOD DAGUERREOTYPES
nPAKEN AND ENCLOSED IN MOROCCO
A cases tor 60 cents each, at THOMPSON'S GAL-,
LERY, 315 BROADWAY, first door below the Hospi
tal. Children of all ages taken in from one to fivo
seconds, by an instrument made for that especial pur—
post). A superior assortment of Lockets, tko., on hand a|
rric- h Vc and see and eafisliee.
LW. COMPSON. BWMVU

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