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Sunday dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1845-1854, November 17, 1850, Image 1

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83030362/1850-11-17/ed-1/seq-1/

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Williamson & burns, Publish*™,?
OFFICE 61 ANN STREET. ?
MARY LAWSON.
BY EUGENE SUE.
CHAPTER VII.
After Monsieur do la Botardiere had left the
house, M. de Morville and his lady remained si
lent and full of painful thoughts for several mo
luents ; this silence, as was uatuiai to her acx's
sensibility, the lady was the first to break ; she
said-to her husband—
“ This rupture, my dear husband, is certainly
very regretful; it will be impossible for us to
visit your uncle after this ; but we have done our
duty and no more.”
“ Thank you, noble and generous woman! ’
replied M. de Morville, tenderly pressing her
hands in his own, with a look of fervent affection,
“ I thank you for having so perfectly understood
and responded to my thoughts and feelings; I
thank you for having so properly kept up your
dignity’, by disavowing and repulsing the bare
idea of any base and mercenary sacrifice, to the
simple caprice of a man whom prejudice the most
unfounded has blinded and misled.”
“ Could I do otherwise, my dear, after the open
and ingenuous explanations so naturally afforded
to us by Miss Lawson, relative fro the incident in
her journey which at first had surprised us, and
really seemed unaccountable 1 Besides, as re
gards talents, the most exact propriety of man
ners, and, as far as we have been able to
judge hitherto, a most delightful character;
your brother has rather exceeded his descrip
tion—full iftf praise as it was—than fallen be
low it, by his recommendation of Miss Mary
Lawson.”
“ Well said, Louisa; and each observation im
proves upon the last.”
“ What do you mean, my dear !”
“ Why, I must confess that, after the unex
pected arrival of Miss Lawson, whom we had re
finguished for a governess—after our conversation
of this morning, in the eourse of which you re
vealed those painful foibles, which now I am so
happy to see were exaggerated—l was apprehen
sive that Miss Lawson’s sudden appearance would
not be welcomed by' you so kindly as it has
been. I was afraid that, without at all parti
cipating in the absurd prejudices of my uncle
against the young lady, there might still re
main ”
“ Listen to me, my friend,” resumed Madame
de Morville, interrupting her husband. ‘ 1 am,
you know, but a woman ; my first impulse is ever
superior to, and more to bo relied on than after
reflection ; I did not conceal from you that I
loved our child too weakly, and with jealousy in
respect to others. Miss Lawson’s arrival, for
several reasons has traversed my wishes, not to
say afflicted me. I went down with you to the
parlor with an unfavorable disposition of mind to
wards her; but I found it impossible to resist the
charming openness of heart of that young lady ;
her modesty so dignified. What more shall I
aayl I was, in spite of myself, obliged to ad
mire her rare beauty, though I feel that it al
most makes our Alphonsine appear ugly by the
side of her.”
“ Come, now, Louisa,” returned the husband
smiling; “lam a father—blinder, or rather more
clear-sighted than you are. I can assure you that
the expressive and amiable countenance of Al
phonsine, loses nothing by comparison with the
more regular beauty, peculiar to Miss Lawson.
It is only the novelty of an English face which
strikes you, my love. Accustomed to see our
daughter every day and every hour, you are not
able to judge so favorably of her as she deserves.
If the tables were turned, and she Avere suddenly
to appear among an Irish family, the novelty of
her French face would produce precisely the
same effect on them as Miss Mary Lawson’s has
on you.’’
” Nay, my dear, you spoke just now of exag
geration ; but it is your turn at present to em
ploy it with a vengeance. Miss Lawson is one
uf i£nr moot-ramuvku.b'fy beautiful girls I have
ever seen, and indeed. with A.l
- I” -ift -asto.
“ I am far from doing so ; I have no wish to
compare them together. My dear Louisa where
would be the use of it I Alphonsine has her at
tractions, Miss Lawson, on her side, has her own.
Are there not many people as rich and as happy
with ten thousand francs a year as others with a
hundred thousand 1”
“ Alphonsine and her brother, at least, will not
be exposed to that happiness henceforward.”
“1 don’t exactly understand you, my love.” *
“ I know your uncle well—his resolution will
prove unshakeable. Thus, at least from twenty
five to thirty thousand francs a year is this day
lost to our children.”
“ Well, it is a misfortune. But how can we
help it 3 ’
“By no means, assuredly—the thing is done.
But still you will acknowldege that Miss Law
son is not exactly what can be called a bird of
good omen 1”
“ Louisa, is it you who say this —you who so
spiritedly took up, and answered to my uncle’s
insulting taunts I”
“Ah ! God knows, my dear husband, I do not
regret what I said; if 1 had to say it over again
I would not change a word, I think; but I can
not, for all that, help reflecting, that if disinte
restedness and equity are very fine feelings,“they
sometimes cost us rather dear.”
“ I mean, on the contrary, to prevent your re
flecting, my dear Louisa,” replied De Morville,
tenderly. “ You said yourself just now, and it
was perfectly true, your first impulses are excel
lent. Now, why are they excellent 1 Because
you are then under the sway of your heart, —
and a better one cannot exist. But there are
times when reflection would spoil all! I will not
therefore, allow Mrs. Louisa to reflect,” contin.
ued De Morville, with a smile benevolently sly.
•’ Yes, 1 mean to~D<rsufficiently .despotic to pre
vent you from appearing to regret those first sal
lies of the soul, which are always generous, and
not more generous than just.”
“If you succeed, tyrant,” answered the ma
tron, smiling in her turn, “ I will bless your ty
ranny, for wnat you say is quite true. I was, as
well as you, offended to the last degree by the
insulting suspicions expressed by your uncle with
regard to us, and by his injustice towards Miss
Lawson; and yet, only a moment ago, I almost
reproached the poor girl for the loss of our chil
dren’s anticipated fortune! What a strange
thing is the human heart! above all, a mo
ther s !”
“ Certainly; but these contradistinctions, these
inconsistencies, these sudden fluctuations, brought
on and even produced by reflection in our opin
ions and sentiments, do no harm between you and
me, Louisa, we understand each other, and know
what is passing in each other’s minds. But on
the other hand, let us suppose that this unjust
thought of reproaching Miss Mary Lawson with
the loss of our children’s inheritance had escaped
£ou when she was present. Think, my dear
iouisa, what a cruel blow it would have been to
a mind so delicate and highly-toned as hers must
be !”
“ It would have been detestable on my part I”
“ Yes ; for such is the situation in which the
young lady is placed, that she has no other alter
native than either to endure all in silent anguish,
or to forsake an employment which is to be the
chief support of her family. Poor girl!”
“ She is indeed to be pitied !”
“Tome you exclaim, on regretting to have
uttered an unkind thought: ‘What a strange
think is the human heart !’ and I know your
meaning fully; because, after twenty years ac
quaintance, I know you thoroughly, and am able
to appreciate. But, my dear Louisa, it would be
a; sorry comfort for Miss Lawson, and not at all
likely to heal a painful wound, if she were to
hear you exclaim: ‘ what a strange thing is the
human heart ’’ ”
“ She would indeed haye a right to feel morti
fied—deeply, acutely stung. Ah, my dear, what
a misfortune it is that our letter to your brother
should have been too late to prevent this ’ ’
“ No, Louisa, far otherwise ; we ought really
to consider the accident as a piece of good for
tune, thanks to which, Alphonsine’s education
will be as perfect as it would be incomplete. I
had given way, in some sort, despite my own
judgment, to your wish not to have another go
verness ; but I can trust sufficiently to your ma
ternal affection to feel assured you will rejoice
more heartily every day at Miss Lawson’s ar
rival.”
, “ I feel, my dear, how just are your observa
tions ; and, in deference to your brother, as well
as for my daughter’s sake, for my own, and above
all, in justice to this young lady, who is so truly
interesting after all, it is my duty to render her
situation as happy as I can. Still,” added Ma
dame de Morville, smiling, “ I am fully deter
mined to keep one of my advantages.”
“ What advantage I”
“ “ Since Mademoiselle JLagrange left us, my
daughter has slept in one of the rooms of’ our
apartment, instead of occupying the chamber on
the second floor, near her late governess’s bed
room. Now, lam resolved to keep Alphonsine
close to me, by which I shall gain a full hour’s
possession of her night and morning, incorrigible
and insatiable mother that I am !”
“ Perfectly well ’ my dear Louisa; nothing
can be more natural than such a desire. Besides,
Miss Lawson, seeing from her first coming here
that such is the rule, will not be at all astonished
that Alphonsine should sleep in a room at some
distance from that of her instructress, notwith
standing the usual custom to the contrary.”
” But let me remember, my dear, the dinner
hour is drawing near, and 1 don’t know whether
rooni’™ 6 Pivo^et as Prepared the young lady’s
“ I will ring tor her,” replied M. do Morville,
pulling a bell, “ and advise her once more to
keep a tight rein on her loquacious tongue, and
to curb her intemperate fancy as regards Miss
Lawson ; for if she went about interpreting in
her own way some of the unjust charges of my
uncle relative to this young English lady, the
intolerable Pivolet would build up a series of sto
ries as absurd as they would be vexatious ”
“ Fortunately, my dear, these ridiculous and
vulgar stories would come from too low a source
€Ycf Miss Lawson’s cars; but you
did right to speak with severity to Madame Pi
volet.”
Just at this moment the worthy housekeeper
came into the room with a downcast, mournful
look. She did her best to assume the most
vvuuLeuuiiuc, nq a victim who had so re
cently been enlarged from the castle cells.
“ Madame Pivolet,” said her mistress to her,
“•have you remembered to get ready the bed
room and small sitting-room intended for Miss
Lawson 3”
“For Miss Lawson 3” echoed the housekeeper
affectedly, and as if she had fallen from the
clouds; “ for Miss Lawson 3”
“ Yes, for my daughter’s governess!” replied
the mistress, impatiently ; “you look as if you
had just come back from the grave !”
“ Madame, without coming back from the
grave, where I was within an inch of being sent
just now, so exhausted was I with hunger,” an
swered Madame Pivolet, pinching in her mouth,
and looking aslant towards the closet she had
been immured in ; “I may be excused for not
yet knowing that our young lady has got a new
governess named Miss Lawson. You and my
master know I am not in the habit of daring to
inquire about what does not concern me.”
“ I wish you to persist in this praiseworthy re
serve and discretion,” replied M. de Morville,
sharply ; “for I toll you once again, and attend
to what I say, Madame Pivolet, if you venture
to make Miss Lawson the subj ect of your ludi
crous stories, (and mind I shall be on the watch,)
you shall not stop twenty-four hours longer in
this-house. It is very painful for me to renew
this subject, for I well know your attachment to
us, and your scrupulous integrity ; and therefore :
I hope you will not drive me to the irksome ne
cessity of such a measure.”
“ Sir, you may be assured that I will conform
myself to your orders,” answered the house
keeper, with humility and compunction ; “ I ac
knowledge my errors, and only beg you to give
me time and opportunity to retrieve them.”
“ Very sensibly spoken, Madame Pivolet,” re
plied Madame de Morville. “You will tell Ju
lienne, therefore, that it will be her duty to wait
upon Miss Lawson.”
“ Yes, madame.”
“Go directly and prepare her apartment; let
a good fire be lighted in the room, for it has not
been slept in this long time, and the evening is
very damp and cold.
“ Your orders, madame, shall be obeyed. Is
the bed of Mademoiselle Alphonsine to be made
up in the second chamber, as it was when Made
moiselle Lagrange lived with us 3”
“ No, my daughter continues in our apart
ment.”
“ Very good, madame.”
“ Y ou will also remember to put in Miss Law
son’s chamber a tea-caddy and teapot, for, being
an English lady, she is probably accustomed to
take tea very frequently.”
“All your commands shall be strictly attended
to, madame,” answered the meek and humble,
Pivolet; and she went out the image of patient
resignation, leaving her master and mistress con
vinced of her penitence and good will towards
Miss Lawson, the governess.
CHAP TER VIII.
When Madame Pivolet left her master and
mistress, she was busy, devising in her fertile
imagination a very pretty machiavelian plot or
conspiracy directed against the English beauty,
as she called her. She went first to the linen
store-room, which was under her control, opened
the cupboard, selected a pair of sheets of the
finest texture, and after that another pair of the
coarsest possible description, such as are only
used for tne servant’s beds •_ she made s-bundle
o c the«o- under her arm, and then bent her
steps towards the new governess's bedchamber,
muttering to herself as she went:
“ Even these sheets are too good for thee, my
English beauty ! and if you complain—but you
will not complain—you seem to me, as I take it,
to be far too proud to do that; but if you do
complain, I will say that Julienne mistook the
sheets. That ugly, moping cry-baby, Lagrange,
did not come oft' so easily —she could have told
you something ! So so, my poor silly creature !
you think yourself better than us, and would
take the place above us next to our master’s,
sending me back to the second—l who have been
ho usekeeper hero for fifteen years, and who am
as good as you, I hope ! But I must eat my meals
in the pantry. So you think to monopolize Ma
demoiselle A lphonsine, whom I fed with my own
milk I and you expect Madame Pivolet, who is
no fool, though, to put up with it, do you 3 Nay,
nay ! she knows better than that; and it will be
strange indeed, if, after using the stinging net
tles to some purposes with the last governess, and
making her go packing—she, whom there was
nothing to say against—l cannot contrive to dis
lodge you, my English beauty who are but an
adventuress, asJMonsieur de la Botardiere said
Poor M. de la Botardiere ! you have already em
broiled the honest man with his relations, sly, in
triguing girl! He went off in a passion, for he
said to Baptiste, whom he met in the hall: ‘I
will never set foot again in this house ! ’ and he
£ot into his carriage, and gave so many hard
lashes to Boncevaux, that the horse set off at a
gallop. Now, if M. de la Botardiere keeps his
word, never gain to set foot in this house, of
course it follows that he will disinherit jny mas
ter and mistress, and equally certain he will do
the same to my little Alphonsine ! Powers of
Mercy ! English beauty 1 do you think I moan
tc fi tnndn.ll this 3 No, no ; to work at once ! this
very night, too!”
Saying which, the housekeeper went into the
bedchamber which had once been occupied by
Mademoiselle de Morville, and was the adjoin
ing one to the governess’s. These two rooms
were divided by an intermediate chamber, or
small sitting-room, and were comfortably furnish
ed ; but, not having been dwelt in for some time
previously, and the day, (it was the latter end of
autumn, remember ) having been cold and rainy,
there was an icy chill pervading the apartment.
But this was not enough yet. w hen a woman is
bent on mischief, it takes a great deal to satisfy
her. To add, therefore, as much as possible to
this discomfort, Madame Pivolet opened the win
dows* of the bedchamber formerly occupied by
Mademoiselle de Morville to their full width, so
as to give a free scope to the rain water which
was pouring down ; after which she tumbled the
sheets anyhow into the bed, left the fireplace
without a fire, took care not to place there either
the teapot or tea-caddy which she had brought
with her, looked to see that there were wax can
dles in the candlesticks, and then, pausing to
contemplate with a. sort of satisfaction the cold
and gloomy room, into which the wind was push
ing its way as into a gulf, Madame Pivolet said
to herself:
“ Nothing venture, nothing have ! If I can
contrive this evening to decoy the English beau
ty into this chamber, as if it were her own, she
will recollect her first night’s rest at the castle ;
but I must not risk exposure. It is quite cer
tain that either Alphonsine or my mistress will
come to make sure that I have executed the or
ders I had received.”
Thereupon worthy Madame Pivolet, with a dia
bolical machiavelism, went into the chamber real
ly intended for the governess, laid the fine linen
sheets over the bed, lighted a nice cheerful fir.ein
the chimney, shut down the windows most care
fully, drew the curtains, laid the teapot and cad
dy where they could not fail to be seen, and ful
filled with regard to this room, all the orders she
had received
Soon after, Madame de Morville came up her
self to see that Miss Lawson’s room was proper
ly prepared for her reception when she might
wish to retire.
“ I preferred taking this task upon myself, ma
dame, ’ said the housekeeper to her mistress, “ in
order to feci assured that nothing would be ne
glected.”
“1 am obliged to you for this assiduity, Ma
dame Pivolet,” said her mistress, as she with
drew.
The cunning housekeeper shut the door of the
bed-room in which the fire had been kindled,
locked it, put the key into her pocket, passed
through the little parlor or sitting-room be
tween the two bed-rooms, and, as ?he did not
forget anything, on leaving the apartment, which
opened into a long gallery lighted up by several
windows, she opened two of them, and left them
flying to and fro, expecting, nor was she mista
ken in her calculation, that the wind would
break one or two pains of glass. All these dis
mal preparations being ended, she went down to
dinner, and awaited with nervous impatience for
the moment when Miss Lawson would retire to
her chamber. When the family z had their tea
served up, Madame Pivolet knew that her mas
ter and mistress would not be long before they
went to bed, so she took a bed-room light and
posted herself in the billiard-room, which Miss
Lawson had to pass through on he way to the
hall, and thence up to her chamber. Madame
Pivolet revelled in her good fortune. All de
pended on the governess going to her chamber
alone, which, however was hardly probable, for
Madame de Morville, or at least her daughter,
could not fail, on the first night at least, to ac
company their new friend, as well out of respect,
as to show her to her apartment. Still her per
plexity was great—she was relying on chance,
and likewise on her imagination, which she had
already taxed, by fetching one of Alphonsine’s
mantles, and holding it ready for use over her
arm, whilst her other hand held the bed-room
candle. Soon after the parlor door was opened,
and the housekeeper, with beating heart, could
* The reader will observe that in France the win
dows open in the middle, all the way down from top
to bottom, like our folding doors, so as to admit an
uninterrupted current of air. This was far more
favorable to the murderous spleen of Madame Pivo
let than our windows would have been.— Transla
tor'a Note.
hear Madame de Morville’s voice, as that lady
said to Miss Lawson : “
“ Since you really are determined. Miss, not to
permit me to accompany you, and show you the
way to your chamber, Alphonsine shall take
my place.”
And truly the young girl came out of the par
lor with her governess, who said to her :
“ I beg, mademoiselle you will not take the
trouble
“ Excuse me, miss—l must indeed show you
where your apartment is; and besides I wish to
satisfy'myself that nothing is wanting there,
although 'mamma went up there herself before
dinner.”
“ You see, then, how perfectly useless it is for
you to disturb yourself, since your mother was sb
kind as to think of me 1”
“ Mademoiselle,” here broke in Madame Pivb-
Ini +o A Iplaonoxtic, lici, «xt tlic ouixiC
the cloak, “wrap yourself up well.”
“ What! put on a cloak to go up stairs I You
cannot be serious!”
“ Mademoiselle,, I don’t know who has been so
forgetful as to leave open two of the windows in
the passage; but the storm has broken all the
panes, the wind and rain are driving in, and you
will run the risk of catching a bad cold.”
“Positively, Miss Alphonsine,” cried Miss
Lawson, smiling, “ I must begin my part as a
school-mistress at once, and insist upon your go
ing no further.”
“ Miss Mary, you do not know how my nurse
magnifies every trifle she speaks of ”
“ I assure you, mademoiselle, that this time
there is no exaggeration,” resumed the house
keeper, shuddering with a retrospective' cold.
“ I have this moment crossed through the gal
lery, and am still quite benumbed. You may
easily conceive, therefore, what you would feel
with your delicate lungs.”
“ Delicate lungs I You are dreaming, nurse 1”
Then Madame Pivolet turned respectfully to
Miss Lawson, and said to her:
“If I dared, miss, I would request you to pre
vent Mademoiselle Alphonsine from attending
you to your room ; it is very warm in the parlor,
and this draught of cold air up stairs, might do
her a serious injury.”
“ Mademoiselle Alphonsine,” resumed the go
verness, in a voice that could not be resisted, “ I
no Iqnger insist —no, I entreat you as a favor to
go no further !”
Mademoiselle de Morville, for fear of being
importunate, gave way, although with reluc
tance, to Miss Lawson’s entreaties, saying to [her,
however:
“At least, miss, take this cloak, since my
nurse assures us that this gallery is so terrible to
pass through.”
“ I will accept the cloak, then,” said she smil
ing ; and whilst Madame Pivolet hastened to put
it over her shoulders, she held out her hand very
graciously to Mademoiselle de Morville. and said
to her, “ Good night. Farewell until to-mor
row.”*
“ Oh, yes, to-morrow, very early !” answered
Alphonsine.
“ A’ou shall see, miss, that I am not lazy.”
She paused a moment, and then added, sighing,
“Look you, Miss Mary, I am sure not to shut
my eyes the whole night.”
“ Why so 3 ’
“ I shall bo so uneasy about the examination
you will submit me to to-morrow.”
2 “I think you need not have any fear on that
subject.”
“ Oh ! you must not think, Miss Mary, that it
is any selfish misgivings that will make me un
easy ! No, indeed, for it appears to me that it is
not I who will be put upon trial to-morrow !” a
“ Who is it then 3”
“ Will it not, to a certain point, be Mademoi
selle Lagrange, my last governess, who taught
me all 1 know, and whom I was so fond of 3 I
have told you so already, miss, and therefore it
is that to-morrow, whilst doing my best to satis
fy you in this examination, I shall be thinking
of her; and it will be for her sake I shall be
happy and gratified by your praises if I deserve
them!”
Miss Lawson was moved to tears by the acute
delicacy of this sentiment, so ingenuous express
ed, and said to the young maiden :
“I am certain, beforehand, that I shall be
equally delighted with you and Mademoiselle
Lagrange. Good night!”
Allow me only to accompany yvu ao far as
the hall, miss 3”
“ Yes, but no further.”
‘‘And must I really not send you one of the
maid-servants to assist you 3”
“ No—many thanks. I am accustomed to
wait upon myself.”
“At all events, you will tell Madame Pivolet,
if you want anything 3”
“ Certainly, mademoiselle,” replied the go
verness.
The two young ladies, ushered along by the
housekeeper, carrying the bed-room candle, next
passed through several rooms, and reached a hall
and thrilled them with cold.
“ Quick, quick—return in !” said Miss Law
son, preventing Mademoiselle de Morville from
crossing the threshold of the door.
“ Good night, Miss Mary !” said the latter to
her as she withdrew. “ Good night! I shall ex
pect you very early to-morrow morning in my
class-room.”
“ To-morrow morning, early” returned Miss
Lawson. “ I will rejoin you.”
She then followed Madame Pivolet, went up a
long, wide staircase, and at length reached the
gallery where the rain was pouring in through
the broken panes.
The housekeeper then entered the small sitting
room dividing the two bedchambers, handed the
light she carried to Miss Lawson, and said to
her, pointing to one of the doors :
“This is your apartment, miss;” and then
showing her the other door: “Mademoiselle
Alphonsine used to occupy this chamber adjoin
ing yours, during the time of Mademoiselle La
grange, her former governess; but it seems that
now Madame de Morville does not wish Made
moiselle Alphonsine to sleep here. She prefers
keeping Alphonsine near her.”
The housekeeper laid a stress upon these words
to give them a more significant meaning. She
then continued:
“ Now. my mistress, doubtless, has her rea
sons for this. 1 have the honor to wish you good
night, miss !” added the serpent Pivolet, with a
very low curtsey; she then went out, saying to
herself:
“If she complains of her room to-morrow, I
will say she mistook “the door; but no matter,
she will remember her first night at the castle—
my English beauty who had me thrown into the
cells I”
She then moved away, afteY locking the door
of the little parlor, as if by mistake.
The poor governess, with her candle in her
hand, advanced to the door which the house
keeper had pointed out, opened it, and went into
the chamber; but the windows having been left
open by the artful Pivolet, the wind rushed in
like a tornado blast; the light was extinguish
ed, the young lady found herself in pitch dark
ness, and the next moment felt the rain and the
breeze lashing against her cheeks.
(.To bo continued.)
* The text is <c a demaine,” (to-morrow.) It is al
most impossible to translate these lively idioms.
The French, being a sociable people, have got a lan
guage as pliant as a pine tree ; ours is as stiff as an
oak in some things. “A demaine,” “au revoir,”
‘‘ sans adieu,” “ tout a vous.” “ aux abois” are un
translat eable. — Translator' , s Note.
A Thrilling Scene.—The tiger scene de
scribed below, occurred at Toronto a few days
since
“An affair occurred at our exhibition on
Tuesday last, of the most intensely exciting and
terrific description, and which, but for the intre
pidity, daring and presence of mind of Van Am
burgh, would certainly have resulted in the hor
rible death of our old friend, Signor Hydralgo.
The circumstances were as follows: —At about
9 o’clock Hydralgo went into a cage in which
had been placed our largest Panther, the Bengal
Tiger, the African Lioness, the spotted Leopard,
a Cougar, and the Hyena. The exhibition pro
ceeded, and Hydralgo seemed to have the ani
mals completely under his control, and the audi
ence seemed to be both interested and delighted
at the daring of the ‘ Tamer.’ The performance
had progressed very nearly to its close, when,
from some unaccountable cause, the Tig«r be
came sulky and refused to leap. He struek him
with a whij), which so enraged the furious beast,
that breaking through all discipline, and with
one bound, and a yell of fury that terrified the
audience, he rushed upon Hydralgo, and brought
him to the floor of the cage. He could do no
thing —he had lost all control over the brute.
Everything was in confusion; women fainted,
others screamed in terror, children cried, and
the men seemed paralyzed. It would have been
all up with poor H., had not Van Amburgh, who
was on the other side of the arena, rushed to the
spot. In an instant he was in the cage, and in
less time than it takes me to write it, he had the
enraged animal under his feet in perfect subjec
tion, and released his friend from his perilous
situation, fortunately more frightened than hurt.
Van Amburgh’s presence of mind, his courage
and intrepidity, are deserving of all praise,
which he received in three hearty cheers from
the audience. For the time it lasted, about two
or minutes, it was the most exciting scene
ever witnessed.”
One of Punch’s correspondents, who signs
herself “An anxious Wife and Mother,” is
much excited on account of an anticipated visit
of another great Plague in London, during the
great Fair to be held there next spring. The
swarming millions that will flock to London from
all quarters of the world, she says, will produce
a famine that will be followed by the Plague
Among the contributions to the Fair from the
various countries, she enumerates the following,
which have so frightened her that she has made
up her mind not to visit Hyde Park during the
exhibition.
“ The Black Jaundice, from America; Palsy,
from Russia; Convulsion Fits, from France;
the Mumps, from Greece; the King’s Evil, from
Naples; Rickets, from Spain; St. Anthony’s
Fire, from Portugal; Dropsy, from Holland;
and the Scarlet Fever, from Rome.”
43T An old fellow being visited by his pastor,
the latter assured him that he could not be a good
Christian unless he took up his daily cross—
whereat he caught up his wife, and began lug
ging her about the room,
NEW YORK, SUNDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER. 17, 185®.
One of ths Rejected Lindiana Songs.
A poetic correspondent furnishes us with the fal
lowing verses to be published among the rejected
songs written for Jenny Lind. Had the Committee
who composed the censors seen these lines, Bayard
Taylor would have had little chance for them two
hundred dollars. The lines are prefaced as follows
by the author
To the Editors.
A few weeks ago, wheu reading your excellent
paper, I was much pleased with your remarks on
the prize song by B. Taylor. Although I do not
profess to be either poet or critic, the song was in
my view very deficient, and not up to the standard
of poetical genius, no more than woodsawing har
monizes in melody with notes of a piano, and need
ed some one to show to the world that the Ameri
can people are not all sapheads. I had a littfa laugh
when reading those r/Jecfad songs “Cw-’j --'A-*,
senodir t. come alongis too rkb. to lay and .
rest on an Editor's table, or be kicked to the shades
by any but such as composed that Cojnmittee. I
venture to send a few lines written to rank as one
of the rejected songs, by “Ichabod.” If they are
worthy of a place in your paper, I should be happy
to see them ; if not, the paper will be just as good
to light a cigar with as if they were not written on
it.
GREETING TO AMERICA.
Hail to the land of the beautiful West!
Hail to her sons that with freedom are blest!
Hail to her daughters so graceful and fair,
That equal in bt auty the sylphs of the air.
Hail to the land of buckwheat and corn !
Where the bold sons of freedom are born ;
Hail to her heroes of old seventy- six,
That played the bold Briton a few Yankee tricks.
Hail to the land of cabbage and pork,
That strengthens her people to their arduous work;
From morning till night no powers relax.
As stroke after stroke peals the bold woodman’s
axe.
Hail to the land of pumpkins and rye,
That when blended together makes the sweetest of
pie.
When kneaded and baked>by your daughters and
wives,
Who, I dare say, love you as they love their own
lives.
Hail to the land of barley and wheat!
Hail to the land of potatoes so sweet,
That cause the sons of Erin to give a broad grin
As they hastily stow them between their nose and
their chin.
Hall to the land of genius and art,
Where poetry and music hold a prominent part;
Hail to the poet that does the great thing,
Of writing a song for Jenny to sing.
Hail to the land of engines and steam,
Hail to the founder of the great iron team
That snorts thro’ the land with a wonderful rattle.
A carrying to market our sheep and our cattle.
Hail to the land of mysterious knockings !
Hail to the folks that do up the hoax without even
their stockings !
That startles with wonder the sons of creation,
And turns upside down the fools of the nation.
Hail to your seamen so bold and so brave,
That ride so fearless the foam (oh) the wave;
That thoughtless of danger think nothing can
barm-um,
As they shout their bold motto,'A Plurihus Barnum.
‘‘ICHABOD.”
[Original.]
PACIFIC RAIL ROAD.
WHITNEY’S PLUNDERING SCHEME.
Asa Whitney has succeeded in getting from a
Committee in the United States Senate, another
favorable report for his plan of a Rail R oad to
the Pacific. Senator Bright seems to be Whit
ney’s fugleman in his grand scheme to get pos
session of near 100.000,000 acres of our immense
public domain. They only ask a belt of land
sixty miles wide, and between two thousand and
three thousand long. Modest request this ’ It
is a tract only about as large as the six New
England States, New Jersey, and the great
State of New York, all put together.
There is no need of discussing the propriety of
building a Rail Road to the Pacific. All agree
that the two oceans must be connected by one or
more roads, on which steam can be used as a mo
tive power. This is a settled point. The only
work to be done is to decide upon the best loca
tion fox. the track, and to provisions
to pay for laying it down. asks the
government to givo him the capital to build the
road: Not in money, but in land, on which he
says he can raise money enough to build it. We
should think he could, if he gets the quantity of
land he modestlv asks for.
We will now look at the last report, made by
a Committee on Roads and Canals, of the U S.
Senate, of which Mr. Bright, of Illinois, is chair
man, in favor of Whitney’s scheme. We want
our readers to understand this infamous project
to monopolize the Public Lands. Whitney is
backed by monopolizing capitalists, who stand
ready to advance money as soon as he can get
his bill through Congress ; and how many Sena
tors and Representatives there are in Congress
who are to have an interest in his scheme of
plunder, we know pot. But, from the great
number of reports that Senator Bright has made
on the subject, we are pretty safe in supposing
that there is at least one who is expecting to be
benefitted by the scheme, should it go into oper
ation. The report to which we refer was made
to the U. S. Senate on the 12th of September
last. It opens by stating that the Committee
have sifted, weighed, and compared the argu
ment in favor of and against all the plans for
building a great National Rail Road to the Pa
cific, and the reasons given for and against the
several routes which have been proposed; aud
after having done all this, they, of course, adopt
both Whitney’s plan and route. The Commit
tee then most infamously assert what they know
to be untrue; which is that the “ public press,”
and “ opinion of this country, are universally
concentrated upon this plan.” A Committee of
the U. S. Senate who would say, in the face of a
strong public sentiment against this plan of plun
dering the people of a hundred millions acres of
their land, in the heart of the Union, must be
either extremely ignorant of what public senti
ment is, or wilfully state what they know to be
false. Whitney has used extraordinary txer
tions, among State Legislatures and with the
press, to win their approbation of his scheme.
In many cases he has succeeded But the public
sentiment of which we speak, is simply that of
favoring the building of the road ; the masses of
the people have, perhaps, never until quite re
cently thought much of the great evil that would
result from the adoption of Whitney’s plan, but
have merely looked at the magnitude, glory and
importance of the work. All want the road
built. It must be built—it will be built. But
we will show Mr. Bright, of Illinois, Mr. Asa
Whitney, and ail the monopolists in the back
ground. pushing him on, that the universality Qi
the public sentiment of which the Committee
speak, does not include one-half of the people of
the United States.
Three plans, besides Whitney’s, of building
the road are alluded to in the report. One is
that of building it direct.!/ by the government,
and paying the cost from the National Treasury;
another that of loaning the credit ef the govern
ment to an incorporated company, for the pur
pose of building it; and a third the setting apart
a portion of the national revenue, leaving the
work still in the hands of the government. The
first and the third of these plans are nearly simi
lar. The only difference is in designating, or
setting apart, some specific portion of the reve
nue for the purpose of constructing the road,
mentioned in what the Committee call the third
plan proposed. All of these plans, in the opinion
of the Committee, have insuperable difficulties to
encounter; and that Whitney’s is preferable, as
it is one purely of a private enterprise and re
sponsibility.
If it be a private enterprise, most certainly
the government furnishes the capital by giving
Whitney 100,000,000 acres of land. If Whit
ney can build the road with this capital, then,
most certainly, the government can do the sama.
If the land is to be sold to build it, then the
government can regulate the sale so as to make
the best disposition of it. if the road is built,
the land on each side of it for many miles would
be increased in value twenty fold. It could be
sold to actual settlers, thousands of whom would
become workers on the road until it was com
pleted ; and new States would come into the
Union before the completion was effected
Millions of the Old World are coming to our
shores, and many of them have money capital,
and all of them labor capital. Should our gov
ernment Say to these immigrants, that they
could have work on the road and take land for
pay, if they wish, at fair prices, according to its
location and the increased value given to it by
the construction of the great National Road
running through it, almost an instantaneous
population would spring up on the borders of the
road; a pppulation who would furnish both the
money capital and the labor capital to build it.
This would draw off from our densely populated
J portions of the Union much of its surplus popu
ation, and be of immense benefit to the laboring
classes among us. Five miles of land on each
side of the road would build it, and then the
rest of the belt asked for by Whitney—twenty
five miles on each side—would never go into the
hands of a company of speculators to oppress
an honest yeomanry throughout succeeding gen
erations. But Whitney holds out an induce
ment to the government to adopt his proposition,
which the committee think is of considerable
importance. He proposes to pay government
something for the land. Here is the extract
from the report, showing how much he will
give
“ The bill proposes that a belt of territory sixty
miles wide—that is, thirty miles on each side of the
road —with its eastern end on Lake Michigan and
its western on the Pacific, comprehending about
78,000,000 of acres, shall bo sold and appropriated
to this object, to be accounted for by Mr. Whitney
at the national treasury, at ten cents per acre, good,
bad, and indifferent—amounting to nearly eight
millions of dollars.”
Now, Ist us look at the magnanimity of this
offer s To begin, wc may say that the commit
tee assert that not much more than one-third of
this belt is saleable. They, also, assert, that as
government is continually giving away tens and
scores of millions of acres of the land for various
objects, and that it is urged that all of it should
be thrown open to a free settlement in limited
quantities, Whitney will certainly make a bad
bargain if he gives ten cents an acre for it, and
build the road beside. Let us look at* this, and
see whether Whitney is much of a fool is ma
king this proposition, or whether the. judgment
of the committee is defective. Here is tVe com
mittee’s own reasoning:
“ It remains to inquire whether capita- sufficient
can be raised on this plan to build the road. It is
estimated that it will cost on this pla* about sixty
millions Add to this eight million'-the amount
to be paid the government for the la*d ß at ten cents
per acre—making together about sixty-eight mill
ions of dollars required to be produced from this
tract of 78,000.000 acres, good, and indifferent;
being an average of 871 cents p’t - acr o f° r the whole
tract. Can this be done ? T)e chief reliance must
be on the first eight hundred mfles, which consti
tute, with little exception, the good and saleable
land*. From what ia known of the effect of rail
roads and canals on the value of lands and other
property bordering upontheni, the committee think
it safe to conclude that such a road will
r line to the land through which it passes; and
whether it will b« the purpose, ia the
risk of the party-undertaking it. It is his interest
and his business to mke it so ; and, as he has al
ready devoted more than eight years exclusively,
and at his own expeme, to the investigation of this
subject, in this country, in Asia, and in Europe, as
also in placing the wlole subject before the people,
your committee presume that he has well considered
the cost and the chances of success. The public
certainly risk nothing, asd are sure to be large and
immense gainers, if he succeed. Your committee
think he will succeed.”
We should rather think ho would succeed—
that is, ha will most certiinly succeed in putting
in his pocket from $50,000,000 to |IOO 000,000,
and become the larges! landed proprietor the
world ever saw.
Let us attempt to slow how this can be ac
complished : The road is supposed to cost him
$68,000,000. This is, perhaps,"an over-estimate,
but we will adopt it as About the sum which it
would cost. Now refliet a moment upon the
probable value of none of which is over
thirty miles from a greit national road connect
ing the two oceans, aui upon which a great por
tion of the commerce of the world is to pass.
Look, for a moment, st the value of land on the
line and in the vicinity of our State Railroads.
Take any important read in the Union, and the
land averages from twenty to fifty dollars per
acrowithin thirty mileaof the road. The great
national road would scarcely be completed be
fore the population in its vicinity would be as
dense as Western New York. Cities and villa
ges would spring up on the line of the road, in
which land frould be sold for from SSOO to
SIO,OOO per acre. Do we not know that a few
years ago Wisconsin was a wilderness 3 Look
at some of her cities now, rivalling in popula
tion, and in the value of land, many of the cities
on our Atlantic seaboard.
Now, if there is no exa.ggAro±ian in what WO
have stated, then let us proceed to make an
arithmetical calculation based upon our observa
tions. We will say land asked for by
Asa Whitney, as a compensation for building
the road, is 80,000,000 of acres. What will
these acres amount to even at the present gov
ernment price. Just $100,000,000 —which is
between thirty and forty millions more than
even Whitney supposes the road will cost him.
But, we are warranted in supposing that the
land will average from twenty to fifty dolllars an
acre, in consequence of the road being built in
its very centre, with its Western terminus on the
Pacific, looking towards the 500,000,000 people
in Asia, across the broad and tranquil waters of
that ocean, and its Eastern end pointing to the
Atlantic, and looking over to the European
World.
Let us then proceed to make a few more figures
80,000,000 of acres, at s2o—minimum average
price of the whole per acre —would bring the
enormous sum of $1,600,000,000 (one thousand
and six hundred millions rf dollars !) Well
may the Committee say, “ they think that Mr.
Whitney would succeed.”
But, say the Senate Committee, much of this
land is unsaleable, good for nothing. A great
statesman once said in the Senate of the United
States, that the territory we acquired from
Mexico by the treaty of Hidalgo was not worth
a dollar. We see how much he was mistaken,
when men are paying from 500 to 10,000 dollars
for small pieces of ground in San Francisco ;
and in some ca«es au equal sum for the annual
rent of a house. The Almighty never created
any land that is worthless. Look over the
world, and you often find the moat sterile por
tions of it, the - the
most valuable afte?-the country becomes settled.
The land that is regarded as worthless in the
infant settlement ox, a country, often soon be
comes the most valuable.
But to satisfy the Senate Committee we will
say that the one half of the 80,000,000 of acres
demanded by Whitney is not worth a picayune;
if so he could still realize 800,000,000 of dollars
for the one half of what he would get. But,
again, some may say, that land in a state of
nature, without any improvements upon it, and
though it may have a great road in its very cen
tre, cannot be worth S2O an acre. But we know
that after land, especially if it be wooded, lying
near villages and cities, with a groat rail road in
its vicinity, is worth more than it is when im
proved and the wood taken oft'. Who would
not pay moro for an acre of land well wooded
on the line of one of our rail roads than he
would after the wood was taken off, and the land
ready for the plough! The wood itself is often
worth more than the land will bring after it is
cleared. But the amount that would be realised
from the eighty millions of acres is so enoimous
that we can make any reasonable deduction and
still have four, five, cr six hundred millions of
dollars residue, to gointo the pockets of Whit
ney and his associatei, if they can throw ddst
into the eyes of the -National Legislature, and
get possession of the KO miles by near 8000 of
the people’s soil.
We have no doubt iut there are capitalists,
both in this country and in Europe, who would
build this road according to Whitney’s proposal,
and the Senate’s bill, and pay into the treasury
of the United States from 100,000,000 to 200,-
000,000 of dollars, as a bonus for the advantages
and benefits they would no doubt realize.
We ask Mr. Bright his associates on the Com
mittee, the whole American Senate, and House
of Representatives, to pause and well consider
this view of the case which we have presented.
A thousand years of Senatorial life could
atone for the wrongs they would commit, the
evils they would entail on society, were Whit
neys scheme successful. We have not touched
the great objections to this scheme. Whitney
might pocket a few hundred millions of dollars,
and society, though xobbed, might still prosper.
Bat it is land monopoly that we fear the most.
We have shown that it is probable that even
one mile of soil on each side of tho track, and
bordering upon it, would pay the entire expense
of constructing the road. What is to become of
thereat! Who will be the fortunate monopo
lizers of tho balance of this immense belt of
land 3 Whitney would no doubt build the road,
because it would be his interest to do so; but
who will get tho land! All the most valuable
lands would be monopolized by the Company.
They would, of course, select tor themselves all
the most valuable water priviliges in the vicin
ity of the track; all the eligible sites for cities,
and villages; and the East India Company’s
wealth, compared to that of Whitfiey and his
associates, would be in the same proportion as
that of the poorest Italian lazzaroni to the pro
pel ty left by the late John MoDonogh, who died
in New Orleans, worth some twexty or thirty
millions.
We are not going to explain how Whitney
could build the first 800 miles of the road, sell a
tract 400 miles long by 50 wide, pocket some
forty or fifty millions of dollars, throw the road
into the hands of the government to complete.
We believe there is no fear that he would do so,
as he could, by the terms of his bill, make five
times that amount by completing the road. It
is supposed by the Committee, and asserted by
Whitney, that the first 800 miles of the road is
about the only valuable part of the whole. We
have stated the fallacy of this supposition. The
following is the argument offered by the Com
mittee to show that Whitney could not wrong
the government if ho should fail after he had
completed the first 800 miles of the road ; and
this part of the report contains some other points
which we want our readers to see, as they tend
to prove our position, in some respects, in rela
tion to the increased value the road would give
to the land on each side of it.
Your committee think it would be very difficult
and enormously expensive, if not impossible, to
construct such a road through a now entire wilder
ness, on any plan of means, unless settlement can
keep pace wicli the work, and that this plan, as it
connects the sale and settlement of the lands with
the work itself, is not only the only sure plan of
means, but by it the work will advance as rapidly,
or more so, than on any other plan. Beside, these
lands, with this great highway running through
their centre, could not, in the opinion of the com
mittee, fail to command any amount of money re
quired for the progress of the work, as their daily
increasing value would render them the most sate
and most profitable investment for money.
“ The security of the interests of the public is to
ba considered. The bill provides that the first eight
hundred miles of good land shall be divided into
sections of five miles each—that is, five miles by
sixty ; and that, after Mr. Whitney shall have built
his first ten miles of road, and after ic shad have
been accepted by the Government Commissioner
appointed for the purpose, as being in all things a
fulfilment of Mr. Whitney’s engagements, and not
till then, he shall be entitled to sell the first section
of five miles by sixty, as well as he can, to reim
burse himself for his expenditures on the first ten
miles of road already completed and accepted ; and
so on, in the same manner and on the same condi
tions, for every successive ten miles of the first
eight hundred, leaving every alternate section of
five miles untouched, with all its increased value
created by the road, as public security for carrying
on the work to the Pacific. Thus, when the road
shall have been completed through this eight hun
dred miles of good land, the government will hold
as security for the extension and final completion
of the work the road itself, all its .machinery, four
hundred miles by sixty of these good lands un
touched and raised to a high value by this public
work, together with the entire remainder of the
belt to the Pacific.”
Yes, no doubt, settlement would be rapid on
this belt of land; and that tho increased value
given to the land by building the road would
be immense. Whitney could no doubt command
any amount of money he chose. The alternate
sections of five z miles by sixty, which he is per
mitted to sell as fast as he completes the road,
would give him funds enough to build the entire
road to the Pacific, and tho rest he could sell or
hold on to for five or ten years, when it would
bring him at least au average of thirty dollars an
acre, which would make him richer than any ten
men in the world. The Committee admits that
these lands would be raised to a high value by
the road.
We hardly know which to condemn ths most,
the modesty of Whitney’s demand, or the exces
sive stupidity cf the Committee who have re
ported in favor of it.
When Whitney gets beyond the first 800 miles
of road he can then sell all the land as fast as ha
progresses with the road, and can also sell the
lands, if he wants more means, which he was
restricted from selling on the first 800 miles of
the route. But this he will not want to do. He
will find it his interest even not to sell all of the
first five mile sections on the first 800 miles of
the route. The longer he holds on to the* land
the more it will bring him. He will sell barely
enough to build the road; and if he can raise
capital without even doing that he will hold on
to the land for years. Truly this would he a
gigantic speculation, and we should probably
have a patroonery system extending to the Paci
fic, on which rentism, and anti-rentism would
war against each other for the next half century
at least.
The report says,—
“ Your committee believe that by the provisions
of the bill, it is not possible that the government
or public should either risk or lose anything; and
so far as the road goes, though it should not be
completed, the public will be gainers. In any con
tingency whatever, should the roa-d be commenced
and continued for one hundred, or two hundred, or
more miles, the government will hold a capital un
der its control for a new airangement, if required,
to complete the road, without loss and without
taxing the people.”
No danger, gentlemen, Whitney won’t build a
few miles of this road and then fail We would
sooner credit the assertion that the United States
government would fail before the road was com
pleted, than that Whitney would fail to build
the road, if ho gets the job upon the terms it is
proposed to give it to him. If ho does get the
building of the road upon such terms, wo agree
with tho Committee that the government would
lose nothing should Whitney fail after having
built a few miles of the road- It would be a
glorious thing should he fail before ha had a
spade struck in the soil on the route.
We do not intend to let Asa Whitney and the
Senate Committee have very smooth work in
their efforts to get thia monstrous scheme
through Congress. There are other points in
Whitney’s scheme on which we shall have some
thing to say soon. We shall also show Congress
how this great road can be built without creating
any of the evils we have alluded to; and with
out conflicting with the provisions of the Con
stitution. The road must be built, though
Whitney’s plan must be defeated. No work
Traa c-r©s? vf blia-L >vui add se greatly
to the commercial agricultural manufacturing,
and mechanical industry of the nation, as the
Pacific Rail Road. It must, however be kept
out of the hands of speculators in land, or great
as the benefits are which we have referred to,
thew will be more than counterbalanced by an
accursed land monopoly.
[Original.]
MISERIES OF IRELAND.
IMMIGRATION—TENANT LEAGUES.
The number of immigrants to this port alone,
for a single month, October, 1850, is about
26,000, and for the year 1850, so far—ten months
—a fraction short of 200,000. A few thoughts
on the subject may be deemed of some interest to
most of our readers. The subject produces re
flections of a most serious character, and is one
that possesses the deepest interest to society at
large.
In several counties of Ireland we find the peo
ple holding meetings in favor of reform in the
existing relations between Landlords and Ten
ants. These relations are different and more op
pressive in Ireland than in England, and perhaps
more oppressive in the former country than in
any other part of the world. In England the
landlord drains the land, makes the fences, and
builds the houses at his own expense; but in Ire
land it is different; all improvements in the soil
are the work of the tenant, and as soon as the
tenant has increased the value of the land, the
landlord has the right of confisoaticg his proper
ty, and thus in reality of punishing the tenant
for his industry in improving the land. This
power of the landlord operates with great sever
ity upon the poor tenant. The people cannot
prosper until this system is changed. The
change proposed by the Tenant League, as a
remedy for the evil, is the adoption of some fair
system of valuing the rent that a tenant must
pay; a limitation of the power of eviction, con
tingent on the payment of a fair rent; and the
right of the tenant to sell his interest, his im
provements, to the highest bidder. Now the
landlord can evict, after the lapse of a certain
number of years, and the improvements of the
tenant, the buildings and all, become the prop
erty of the landlord. Although the tenant may
have, by his labor, reclaimed the land from the
water, and made it fruitful, at the expiration of
a certain number of years the property that he
has created goes into the hands of a stranger,
who had not contributed one cent towards its
creation. The League demands that instead of
this he may be permitted to dispose of it to the
best advantage. To be rack-rented, or pay a
rent amounting to all he can make on the land,
leaving him nothing but potatoes enough to
barely support life, tor a series of years, then
evicted, and all his improvements taken from
him, is indeed hard. The tenant asks the right
to live on the soil as long as he pays a fair rent,
fixed by some competent tribunal. And if he
wishes to leave, he asks to be permitted to sell
his improvements to any solvent bidder who may
pay him the most for them.
At a Tenant League meeting recently held in
one cf the counties of Ireland, addressed by seve
ral clergymen, Protestant and Catholic, many im
portant facts were stated—facts of the most as
tounding character ; and we do not wonder that
the clergy of Ireland, of all creeds, should enter
heart and soul in this reform movement. If they
do not they will soon say with Othello, “ my occu
pation’s gone.” The evils we have been describ
ing are fast depopulating Ireland. Without a
flock there is no necessity for a shepherd A clergy
without a rural population to support them would
be an anomaly in the world’s history. “We are
being driven out of the country rapidly,” said a
clergyman from the north of Ireland; “we shall
be extinguished unless we can do something to
keep the people. I have seen, in my own parish,
not less than twenty honest, industrious farmers,
within three weeks rise up and go to America.
Why is it, it may be asked, that your meetings
are not so large as I am told they were in 18431
I tell them that bad landlordism can answer it —
eviction can answer it—emigration and forced
exile can answer it.”
“We, from the South of Ireland, are going
too,” cried a voice among the audience.
“ No later than Wednesday last,” said anoth
er clergyman, “fifty-four cars, loaded with emi
grants and their luggage, passed through Clon
mel to Waterford on their way to America.
Two large steamers at the quays of that city
were'so crowded with them on Friday, the start
ing day, that the police had to be called in to
prevent more of them rushing on board, and thus
overcrowding the vessel. If this stream of emi
gration, which has its source in the inhuman and
depopulating system, be allowed to run on un
checked, ‘our bold peasantry, the country’s
pride,’ will be soon gone, leaving us no popula
tion but the old, the decrepit, and the sickly and
idle inmates of our workhouse. Her Majesty’s
government ought to look to this, and not suffer
the men who, iirthe hour of need, could man her
fleets, and fill the ranks of her armies, and make
them invincible, to quit her realms, and trans
port their strength, and energies, and allegiance,
to the great Republic which is already disputing
with England the supremacy of the ocean, and
which in the event of a rupture with her, will
find the hardy and expatriated sons of Ireland
her best and bravest men in the contest.”
At these meetings, scenes of poverty and dis
tress were mentioned that would harrow the
souls of the most hardened and unphilanthropic
of our race. The result of the rack-rents, evic
tions, and all the rest of the paraphernalia of the
accursed system of landlordism, may be partially
learned by a report published by the officer of
the Board of Works. From this document, it
appears that in the years “ 1848 and 1849, no
less than 117,178 families were turned out on the
world to die of starvation. Taking five to be
the average number of each famflv, the total
number of persons evicted would be 585,890.”
Is there on the face of God’s earth any other
country in which such an atrocity is permitted
to be perpetrated ! Can it be equalled in Tur
key, or any other country where Christianity is
not the prevailing religion! We believe, and
we hope it is only in Ireland, a country trampled
upon by Great Britain, that such an occurrence
can take place. The effect of the landed system,
of which we speak, upon human happiness and
human life, is awful to contemplate Talk about
respecting the rights of property in such a con
dition of things’ Why it is treason to God’s
government. The right of property is sacred ;
but has the poor tenant no right to his labor pro
perty ! Isnot human life also sacred ! What
makes the right of property sacred, if it is not
that it enables us to enjoy life'{ The property
that a tenant creates by his toil, by the sweat of
his brow, by rising early and laboring late, is as
sacred as that of the landlord, whoso title to the
soil is of feudal origin.
But the evil is not confined to the miserable
tenants. The destruction of their rights is not
the only evil, though the most important, and
demanding the most loudly for a remedy. The
Incumbered Estates’ Court of Ireland shows
what an effect the system of rack-renting has
upon landed proprietors, and their descendants.
Landlords too often live up to their last shilling
of extortion. They squander their means forced
from an impoverished tenantry in visiting the
salons of Paris, the vistas of Italy, often the
Grand Sultan of Turkey, or bow the knee before
the Shah of Persia. They live up to their rack
rentals, spend their income in a foreign land, and
thus rob the tradesmen and artisan at home, out
of those legitimate profits in business which ex
tortionate means enables them to throwout with
a lavish hand. Thus their broad acres often
pass into the hands of some money Shylock, and
a stranger sits within the halls of their fathers.
Look at the evil in another point of view; its
effect upon the liberties of the people. The vote
ot every tenant farmer is calculated upon by the
landlords and the bailiffs, as the property of the
loricf the soil. Scarce an election takes place
in Ireland in which the bailiff, who is a sort of a
subordinate officer, an under-steward of a ma
nor, who is often regarded by an ignorant ar d
oppressed tenantry as a sort of a guardian angrl,
does not go through the country for the purpose
of telling the people whom they must vote for)
and sad is the into of him who refuses to follow
his dictation. Such is the state of the unhappy
tenantry in Ireland, and such the effects of a
tern that is fast depopulating, by death and ami’’
gration, one of the most beautiful countries on
the globe. The heart sickens in contemplating
its condition. Our natures burn with feelings of
revenge, when we reflect upon the inhumanity
of those whose tyranny and wrong causa the
evils we have briefly eketched May America
never be cursed with such a landed system. May
there ever remain one green spot on the globe’s
surface where man can stand errot, tn the image -
of his Maker, and own the soil which he cultivates
for a subsistence.
©urrtwi a.iur«utrt«
The Westminster Review —The first num
ber, 31st volume, American edition, of this able
Quarterly, has appeared, ft is one of the most
liberal, and the best of all Scott & Co.’s re-pub
lications. As the present is the number which
commences the volume, it is a good time to be
come & subscriber for the work.
Among the contents of this number we notice
one of extraordinary ability, and giving evidence
of great research, on “ Septenary Institutions ”
The desire to prevent the transmission of the
mails on the Christian Sabbath, in England, has
given rise to much discussion there on the sacred
character of Septenary- Institutions. What is
called the septenary division of time has been
urged by many theological writers as a proof of
the divine origin of the Sabbath. The week of
seven days is certainly a division of time of great
antiquity; yst this division is far from having
been universal. It has been asserted by high au
thority, that the septenary division of time has
been uniformly observed by all the Eastern
World; that the Israelites, Assyrians, Egyp
tians, Indians, Arabians and Persians, adopted
the week of seven days. To account for this as
sumed universality of such a division of time, it
has been assorted that it was instituted by God
from the beginning, and handed down by tradi
tion. This universality is denied by the writer
in the Westminster Review. He says it has
been too hastily assumed.
From a passage in Genesis, in which the first
tn m Sirin in a. S4a.khaJ.li,
though an unwarrantable one from the text, has
been drawn, that the first parents of the human
race were taught by God himself, to divide time
into weeks, and to set apart a seventh portion as
a day of rest, and for'religious purposes. Hence
the impression, that though the Sabbath may
have fallen into disuse among many, and be en
tirely disregarded, yet the week of seven days
has been k«pt by all generations of mankind
since the creation, and continues to be observed
in every part of the world. The fact, however,
says the article in the Review before us, is oth
erwise.
The Greeks divided their months inio decades,
or periods of ten days. These decades were call
ed wnos istamenon, (the beginning of the
month,) menos mesountos, (the middle of the
month.) menos phinontos, (the end of the
month). They had no Sundays or Sabbaths,
neither on the tenth nor seventh days. The
first day of the month was called non menfa, or
new-moon day, which was consecrated to Hecate,
one of the names of the goddess of the moon.
The other days had names according to thoir nu
merical order, as the second of the istamenon,
or the beginning of the month; the third of
the wiesou-nfos, or third day of the middle of the
month; the fourth of the phinontos, as fourth
day of the end of the month. Many religious
festivals took place on several days of the month.
The seventh day of the iitemanon was consecra
ted to Apollo.
The Romans had neither decades nor weeks of
seven days, but divided their months into three
regular intervals, named after three fixed epochs
in each month, called the calends, the nones, and
the ides. The days of the calends were the first
days of the month; they were originally the first
days of a new moon, when it was customary to
call or summon the people together, for some
sacrifice or religious service. They were ealendee,
or call days. The nones were the nine days be
fore the ides, derived from nonus, the ninth.
The ides is derived either from an obsolete verb,
iduare, to divide, or from 10, whose worship was
in some way connected with the full moon. They
were the middle of the month. In computing
time, the Romans reversed what we would call
the most natural order of progression. They
reckoned time to the calends, nones and ides,
and not from them; tertio calendas signified the
third day before the first of the calends, and not
the third in order beginning with the first. This
made the Roman computation of time somewhat
complex.
“The progress of conquest made the Soman
people acquainted with the calendars of other na
tions. The people of India, Syria, Arabia, and prob
ably Egypt, observed weeks of seven, days. When
these countries, or portions of them, became prov
inces of the Roman Empire, their governors learned
to count days in the same manner as the Eastern
people they governed ; and the superiority of the
hebdomadal method to the Roman being obvious,
when once understood, it gradually made its way
from the provinces to Rome. In the the third and
fourth centuries, we find weeks everywhere substi
tuted for the calends, nones, and ides; and the days
called by the planetary names of dies Solis, (day of
the Sun), dies Luna (day of the Moon.) dies Martis
(day of Mars), dies Mercurii (day of Mercury), dies
Jovis (day of Jupiter), dies Veneris (day of Venus),
and dies Satumi (day of Saturn).
The astronomical character of fhese terms shows
that the adoption of the seven days week by the
Romans was quite independent of the Jewish or
Christian religion, although the progress of Christ
ianity may have, to some extent, promoted the
change. The Hebrew names of the week are yom
achard, day one ; yom sheni, day two ; yom shelishi,
day three ; yom rebii, or aruba, day four ; yom sham
ishi, day five; yom shishehi, day six ; the seventh
day, yam shaba, or shebang, and sabbath, or shabbath.
The Roman names were borrowed not from the
Jowa, hut from the Indian, Chaldean, or Egyptian
calendars ; and it is curious to trace the influence
of the mythology of Western Asia and Africa
through the Teutonic races, down to our own Saxon
ancestors, from whom our present nomenclature
was immediately derived. By tnem the seven days
of the week were called Moon-daeg, Tuis
daeg, Wodnes or Woden’s daeg (in the old German,
Odinstag), Thurres daeg, or Thor’s-Jaeg, Friga s
daeg, Seterne's daeg.
Of the Egyptian week little is known, and the
scanty historical references made to it belong to a
late period.
In the ancient Sanscrit— the language of the
holy writings of India (from san, the sun, or sacred
fire ; whence the Latin, sanctum script,um,) the week
of seven days is recognized under the following
names
Aditya-varSun- day.
Soma-var Moon-day.
Mangala-var Mars-day.
Buddha-var.... Mercury-day,
Vrihaspate-var.Jupiter-day.
Subra-var Venus-day.
Sani-var .Saturn-day.
The same terms may be traced through all the
dialects of India ; and throughout Hindostan we
may notice that the word seven is a mystical num
ber, to which superstition continues to attach a
hidden meaning.
In the'orm of prayer used in the temples, the
word seven occupies a conspicuous place. Saptami,
or the great seven, is one or the names of the deity
addressed ; and the worshipper says, on presenting
his offering, ‘-Mother of all creatures, Saptami, who
art one with, the lord of the seven coursers, and the
seven mystic words, glox-y to thee in the ephere of
the sun ” On prostrating himself before the image
of the sun, the worshipper adds, “Glory to thee
who delightest in the chariot drawn by seven steeds,
the illumination of the seven worlds ; glory to thee,
the infinite, the creator, on the seventh lunar day.”
In the Rig Vtda-Sanhita, (a collection of sacred
hymns of great antiquity, held by the Hindoos in
the same veheration as the Psalms of David among
the Jews,) the word seven frequently occurs in pas
sages like the following
‘•Divine and light diffusing Surya, thy seven toursers
bear thee bright haired in thy car
“ The sun has yoked the seven mares that safely draw
his chariot, and comes with them self-harnessed.”
This may be an allusion to the seven prismatic
rays, or to the seven days of the week ; but again
we meet with the “seven hills”—the “seven difficult
passes”—the “ seven days of initiation”—the “thrice
seven mystic rites,” and the “seven pure rivers that
flow from heaven ” The caste of the Brahmins is
also divided into seven sections, which hav'e their
origin in the seven Rishis, or Penitents, sacred per
sonages mentioned in the Vedas.
Seven, it will not be forgotten, was the perfect
number of the Hebrews. We read, not only that
creation was the work of seven days, and of a
seoenthday sabbath, but of a seventh monf/i sabbath,
a seventh year sabbath, and of a seven times seven
years sabbath, or years of jubilee. We read of ani
mals entering the ark by sevens; of seven years of
famine; of seven years of plenty; of seven priests
with seven trumpets, surrounding the walls of Jer
iche seven days ; of Balaam commanding seven al
tars to be prepared for the sacrifice of seven oxen
and seven rams ; of silver purified seven times ; of
seven women taking hold of one man ; of a man
possessed by seven devils ; and in the Revelations,
of seven churches, seven candlesticks, seven spirits,
seven stars, seven lamps, seven seals, seven angels,
seven vials, seven plagues, seven thunders, and of a
dragon with seven heads, and seven crowns upon his
heads. w
These analogies show an identity of origin upon
one point common to the faith of India and Syria,
but do not enable us to pronounce an opinion upon
the relative antiquity of the religions in which this
correspondence is found.
This will account for the origin of the word
seven and the Sabbath. There is no argument
that its origin is divine ; but all the proof shows
it to have been of a superstitious origin.
The number which the followers of the Grecian
Pythagoras revered the most was the tetrarch or
lour. It forms a square ; and we have four sea
sons, four elements, four cardinal points; ma
thematics has four branches, and he arranged
every subject into four divisions. Ezekiel de
scribes four living creatures, with four sides,
four wings, four faces, four horns; and the Jew=>
ish records regard the term forty or four tens as
a perfect number. The flood was on the earth
forty days, Mosos was in the mount forty, forty
days and Ninevah was overthrown, Christ was
in the wilderness forty days, and the Israelites
were forty days in the wilderness. The rever
ence for the term four, and forty could be con
tinued much further. The forty days quaran
tine of modern times has a similar superstitions
origin. The term five and other terms, have
also had mystified significations. The Cluneco
consider five a more perfect number than seven.
The writer in the Review takes strong ground
against ail legislation that forces the discoutinu
anoe of any legitimate business on the Sabbath.
He offers a very powerful aigument against suck
legislation on both moral and physical grounds.
He says, “ we require a Sabbath, or a time of
rest, so spread over all the days of the week that
the toil or confinement of no one day shall be in
juriously excessive.” He argues in favor of
seasonable labor and repose on every day ; such
physical and mental extortion as will conduce to
health and happiness on each day. His views are
very forcible, on this point, and extremely philo
sophical. They should have the effect they are
intended to have in England—that is to stop the
fanatical agitation for the suspension on Sun
days of railway post office business.
JoitßlVaL.'-OF VOx ACeiiN,' by &H Old caa
tain, Jacob Dunham. This work contains an
..account of the author’s being twice captured by
the English, and once by the celebrated pirate
Gibbs; and of his narrow escape when chased
by an English war schooner; also of his being
cast among and residing with Indians. To which
is added some account of the soil, products, and
customs of Chagres, the Musquito shore, St.
Blass, and the Isthmus of Darien. The author
says that he was “ launched into the world” on'
the 27th day of April, 1779, in the town of Col
chester, state of Connecticut, and soon entered
** on the tempestuous voyage of life.” While an
infant at the breast, Fate snatched him from a
mother’s arms, “ viewed him with a scornful
eye,” and exclaimed, “ I doom this babe a stave
to hardships and dif appointments.” The work
really shows that Fate literally fulfilled his
prophecy. Captain Dunham’s father was a war
rant officer in the American navy during tho Re
volutionary W ar, and followed the sea a great
portion of his life. This probably shaped the
course of the life of his son, the author, whose
work is before us.
In 1785 the author removed with his father to
where the village of Catskill, this State, now
stands. There were but seven houses then in the
place. His father bought half an acre of land,
where the Green County Hotel now stands. The
author went as an apprentice to the Messrs.
Thomas O’H. £ Mackay Croswell, printers,
who then published a small newspaper called the
Catskill Packet. But he soon wanted to see
more of the world, and he went to Charleston,
S. C.» and engaged in the printing business for
a short time. He returned again, to Cat skill,
and was engaged for a short period in the coast'
ing trade on the Hudson. Then he went to the
Island of St. Croix, as a seaman. Ho returned
and was married, and again engaged for a short
period in ths.coasting trao#, and did a good bu
siness. But not being content in doing well,
when the war broke out between England and
America, he determined to try his luck on the
ocean. Then his adventures commenced, since
which time he was rudely driven by storms and
tempests, captured by enemies, robbed by pi
rates, made many hair-breadth escapes, and
finally anchored in the harbor of Catskill, and
has written the work before us.
As a specimen of this little work, containing
about 250 duodecimo pages, we will quote a
chapter relating to Captain Dunham’s visit to
Bluefields, a place subject to the Musquito King,
of whom, and his dominions, and British usur
pation, we have all heard so much Of late. The
captain tells us something about the king, the
laws, customs, mode of taking turtle there, the
produce of the country, &c. It is quite interest
ing, and touches on the subject of the great ship
canal in contemplation across the Isthmus.
“ Bluefields lies about twenty-five miles south of
Pearl Key Lagoon on the main land, and has a good
harbor for small vessels, the water on the bar being
about nine feet deep.
“ The English government took possession of it
many years ago, but afterwards exchanged their
possessions here with the Spanish government for
the Bay of Honduras. Colonel Hudson, an English
planter from the Island of Jamaica, settled here
with a number of negro slaves. By the exchange
of the country, he found it difficult to remove his
slaves, who had intermarried with the Indians, and
he was obliged to sell them their freedom and take
, their security for the payment of the debt, which
was to be paid in yearly instalments. From what I
could learn from these negroes, he never realized
i much from them. The inhabitants of Biuefields
[ are mostly called Samboes, being a mixture of negro,
; Indian and white blood.”
, “ The father of the present Musquito King must
( have been fond of women, as he had no less than
fourteen wives. He was a great tyrant, and was
murdered by his subjects for his tyranny over them.
1 The English government ordered his two eldest sons
to be carried to Jamaica, and put under the care of
the Duke of Manchester, then Governor of that
, Island, where they remained about six years and
l obtained a fair English education. The present
, King, who calls his name George Frederick, was fur-
> nished with a large outfit by the Duke, consisting
! a suit of clothes worth eighteen hundred dollars,
; repairs of his father’s crown fifteen hundred dol
lars, and four thousand dollars’ worth of goods and
, presents to distribute among his subjects. A sloop
i of war was fitted out to ca-ry him to the Bay of
; Honduras, where he was crowned, and from thence
i conveyed to his own dominions.”
; “ There are three kinds of turtle inhabiting these
seas : the first and most valuable are tho hawk-bill,
they are caught for the beauty of their shell, which
1 contains thirteen pieces, covering the thick calli
pach or the turtle, which is from two to four feet
long. The outer shell is taken from the carcase by
1 setting it up before a warm fire, when it peels off
The second is called loggerhead turtle, having a
1 shell much resembling the haws bill, but not worth
1 anything for manufacturing. The third is the green
1 turtle, whose flesh is very delicious, and so well
known that I consider any description unnecessary.
The Indians take them by what they call striking,
having a pole about the size of a fishing rod, with a
’ small spear, two or three inches long, well barbed at
1 the point, to which one end of a small cord, about
sixty feet long, is made fast and wound round a
piece of cork-wood, resembling a weaver’s spool.
' He then stands up infliis canoe, and by taking aim
• hits hia mark and secures his prey.
“ Another mode of taking turtle is by making set
’ nets, about thirty feet square, from large twine,
' they then carve imitation turtle out of soft, light
wood, which are smoked over the fire, to give them
a turtle color, and then attached to the upper side
of the net, where they float on the surface of the
1 surface of the water as buoys, while the bottom is
’ anchored with stones. The turtle resort to the nets
to play with the wooden decoys, and during their
1 sport generally get one of their flippers entangled,
and by struggling to extricate themselves get into
5 the net and are easily taken. ,
‘ “ The next operation of catching them is per-
’ formed by three or lour Indians going to the resort
of th© turtles, where they build a temporary hut
1 to live in, each takes possession of his ground, say
’ one quarter or a mile ; on which he walks back
’ wards and forwards like a sentry on guard during
the night, watching the movements of his game ;
> and when the turtles crawl up the beach to deposit
their eggs, during the laying season, he turns them
over on their backs, where they remain until he
’ wants to take possession. When ready, he removes
k them at pleasure.
“ The turtle generally crawls up about ten rods
from the seashore on the soft beach-sand, making a
I large track with its flippers, and digging a hole in
: the sand about two feet deep, lays forty eggs, and
; returns to the sea again the same night. About
fifteen nights aft*r, the identical turtle retums to
the sam* nest and lays forty more eggs, then re
treats into the sea again and returns no more dur
ing that season.
“■ The manatee, or sea-cow, is from ten to four
teen feet long, and has a head much resembling our
common cow without horns. They often get asleep
on the surface of tne water, when the Inmans very
carefully paddle their canoes to them, and by
throwing their small spears into them, capture
them in the same manner they do the turtle. The
beef when cut up is twelve or fourteen inches thick,
having a strip of fat and lean intermixed about
every inch, being the handsomest beef 1 ever beheld
or tasted, and having no kind of fish taste or smell.
“ The coast here abounds with a variety of good
fish ; the larger ones are mostly taken by spearing.
“The Indians have often brought me beef of the
mountain- cow, which I found of a very good flavor.
I never saw but one young one of that species, and
cannot give a very good description of them. The
young on« I saw, much resembled a young fawn.
They are killed by shooting.”
“ The cattle are much larger than those of the
United States. They seldom milk the cows, which
run in herds, are not domesticated. Each inhabi
tant marks his calves when young; and when he
wants to kill a beef he shoots one of his own mark.
They domesticate but few horses, having scarcely
any roads, the country being cut up with lakes,
rivers, and creeks, witnout bridges. The principal
travel is performed in canoes.”
“ They have abundance of hegs and poultry,
which are cheaply fed on cocoa-nuts that grow wild
along the seacoast, and are gathered in large quan
tities. The first work of the morning, performed
by the Indian women, is breaking cocoa-nuts for the
hogs, end cracking some for the dogs, then cutting
up fine for the poultry. They grate up a large
quantity with tin graters, put it in pots and extract
the oil, which makes good lard for frying fish; and
when it turns rancid becomes very fair lamp oil.
Forty cocqa-nuts will produce one gallon of it.
“ The forests abound with wild hogs of two differ
ent species, called Warryand Pecara, having a small
tit or navel on backs. When they are shot
the Indians immediately cut out the tit to prevent
its scenting the meat. I have ate tho flesh of it
often, and found it equal to other meat of the pork
kind.”
“ 1 will now give a small extract of Musquito laws,
viz : If a man adultery with his neighbor’s
wife, and it comes to the knowledge of her husband,
he takes his gun and goes to the forest where he
finds a herd of cattle belonging to the neighbor
hood ; he shoots a good fat bullock and calls on the
neighbors to assist him to dress it and convey it
home, where he makes a great feast, inviting the
man who committed the offence, and all the neigh
bors to partake with him, when the offender, who
is bound by law, pays for the bullock and all is ami
cably settled.
“ If a man prevails on another man’s wife to leave
her husband and live with him, the law compels h>m
to pay a fine of four backs of tortoise-shell, wcrlh
six dollars each, amounting to twenty-four dollars,
and a receipt in full is verbally acknowledged, with
out any hard feelings between the parties.
“I once witnessed a settlement between two men
in a cause of this kind, both parties appeared well
satisfied, and parted on the most friendly terms.
“ They have a singular law for the collection of
debts. If 1 trust an Indian goods, he belonging to
another town or settlement, and he neglects to pay
m«, and I find another Indian belonging to the same
town, having tortoise-shell or other produce in his
canoe, I can take it away from him for the debt, and
he must look to the man who was indebted to me,
for remuneration.
“ Marriage contracts are made by parents while
the children are infants. Two families living iu one
neighborhood, one of them having a son and the
other a daughter, enter into a contract that they
should be considered man and wife. When they are
of a proper age to be joined together, all the inhabi
tants oi the place assemble together, build them a
house, help them to a hammock to sleep in, and a
dinner pot tor cooking,and they commence as house
keepers. After li ring together for some years as man
and wife, the husband receives a present of a female
child from its parents, which he carries home, and
calls it his young wife } first wife tilting the same
VOLUME S.—NUMBER 51
PRICE THREE CENTS.
care of it she would of her own children until it be
comes of proper age, when the hutband builds a new
house for the first wife to live in,and take* the your g
wife for house-keeper. I have often been invited
into Indian houses and introduced to the family in
this manner : “ This is my old wife,” pointing to an
elderly woman, and “This is my young wife,” point
ing to a girl from six to ten years old. The old wife
would smooth her hair and appear to feel a great
deal of pride in being presented to me.
“ On the day a woman Is delivered of a child she
goes to the sea-side,wades into the water knee depth,
washes herself and infant, and the next day slings
the child on herback, gets into a canoe and paddles
two or three miles to visit her friends
“ I here take my have of Murquitto laws and cus
toms for the present.
“ As the plan of cutting a canal from the Atlantic
to the Pacific Ocean, by the way of the River St.
Johns, which leads from, the AHantio into the Lakes
Nicaragua and Leon, Las -
Noughts have been
back to & conversation 1 had with an old
he said, rhe Indians frequently paddled their
canoes up the St. John’s Riyer, through Nicaragua
Lake into Lake Leon, where they found a small
-river, and proceeded to the head of it, which brouaht
'-hem so near the need of another riv.r which led
into the Paeifle, that they hauled their canoes over
by land from the head of one river to tho other, and
then passed through into the Pacific Ocean.”
m / < ' : £ 1 J F t T Tw ® LVE . Qualities of the Mind.”-
t tlns Physiognomy, bv
J. .V. Redfield, M. D , has been published. It
is on an interesting subject,” and the author is
a forcible and pleasing writer. The art of read
ing a man s character by looking at hia face
is physiognomy. By many it is thought to
be a more important science than phrenology or
craniology, which examines tho conformation of
his cranium or skull, to arrive at the same result,
lhe writer’s first letter will show in what the
science consists. We give the important por
tion of it.
Though the face is the chief ind*»x of character,
it is by no means the only <ne. Physiognomy has
a much more extensive significance than the know
ledge of the talents and dispositions by the features
and e-xpres dons of tb« countenance. Our attention
is directed first that in which a person’s charac
ter is most exhibited; that is, his face : and it is by
this that tre chiefly recognize him. But we recog
nise bull also by the tones of his voice, tho form cX
his body, the contour of his head, the color and fu
ture of his hair, eyes, and complexion,manner
of his walking, the peculiarity cf his gestures, &c.
In all these, and in everything belonging to nis ex
ternal man, we perceive something of bis character;
and we like or dislike him, not on account of these
externals themselves, but on account cf the traits
of character which they indicate to üb. Every
culty of the mind has an exact sign in the face. and.
is indicated also by exact signa in other parts of the
body.
It is evident that the quality of the mind indicated
m the face is not the same ac that indicated in the
tones of the voice, and that the quality indicated in
the voice is not the same as that indicated in tha
gestures, and so on. Inquiry into this subject has
discovered twelve qualities of the mind, belonging
to each of the faculties or to the mind as a whole,
and that these qualities have their signs in different
parts or the body, and in certain other external
manifestations. These qualities stand in a particu
lar order in relation to each other; and in this order
it will be wfll to speak of them in the succeeding
Mahomet ; Or the Unveiled Peophet op
Tnistan : A Boquet for Jenny Lind.—New
York., Published for the Authoress. This is a
very singular and mysterious pamphlet. Thera
is no name attached either as author or publisher.
On the back of the cover wo find that those who
desire a copy are requested to address, enclosing
25 cents “ Kata Gullaby,” through tho Post
Office. The pamphlet is illustrated with six dif
ferent wood engravings—the first is a portrait of
Jenny Lind ; the second is called “ Mythology
of the Heathen of the Nineteenth Century,” and
represents an aged.negro woman, a mermaid, a
brace of Quaker giants, and a variety of other
matters “ too numerous to mention;” the third
is a view of the, entrance to Pandemonium, with,
a miserable looking object trying to get in; tho
fourth looks like the Fat Boy at the Museum,
making a voyage to Governor’s Island in a row
boat; the fifth is the English Coat of Arms,
with the motto “Love God and be Merry;”
and the last appears to be a woman on her knees
praying for the release of a child caged in a cas
tle on thc opposite side of a river. What it is
all about is more than we have been able to dis
cover. It appears to boa poem written in a
very peculiar and quaint style, on th p SVbiSCt
of ‘-Washington’s Nurse,” the Fegee Mermaid'
tUe Binghampton Pig, Wild Man of tho Praii
nes.uTom thumb, the Wooly Horse, Jenny
Lind, oanta Anna’s Leg, Temperance Plays,
Agricultural Speeches, &o. Barnum should pur
chase a copy from Kate for the Museum.
Three Lectures on Hygiene and Hydro
pathy, by Roland S. Houghton, A. M. M D
Fowlers and Wells, publishers, Clinton Hau'
this city. Tho rapid progress which the water
cure is making in America, has astonished
thousands in the medical profession This littla
work maybe profitably read both by profession
al men and the community genrally. ' The ad
vocates of the Water Cure System, taka tho
broad ground that water is tho best, safest, and
most universally wonderful application, or re
medial agenoy in disease.
IMPORTANT IMPORTATION.
Punrfi says that among the imnortations of
cattle from Rome to England, is a remarkable
and extraordinary bull. On arriving, ths ani
mal gives signs of proving mischievous; and it
was round necessary to take him boldly by tho
horns. It is not the intention of tho English to
place him under any very forcible restraint, as it
is nopcd he will turn out to baa harmless animal
wnen properly mesmerized by some of the cler
gymen. As Pio Nino has divided Great Britain
rnto bishoprics, it is, in tho opinion of
1 necessary that if Britannia is desirous
to continue to rule the waves, she must rule tho
Sees also. It Is necessary that England should
pronounce an emphatic no, if she wishes to pre
vent Pio from planting tho crosier, or croak in
the soil of England. A quietus jnwt ba presep*-.
ly given, the Pope’s knuckles sorely rapped Joy
England will soon have to kiss the Pope’s toe
The liberality cf England towards tha reli
gious opinions and ceremonies of other nations
besides those under the jurisdiction of the Pone
is thus hit off by Punch: p ’
’The Hindoo Government has sent over Hoki
Poki, to commence his functions as Brahmin of
Battersea. Messrs. Laurie, of Oxford street,
have received directions to build without delay
a car, with Collings’s patent axles, for the ao
commodation of J uggernaut.
The Mirzam of Moolrah has sent over Bow
his sittings at Marylobone as
Mufti of Middlesex, and Rusti Jihan goes to
Westminster Hall, to take hia place in the Court
of Chancery as Cadi of Chelsea. . We had for
gotten to state that the Bow-string is to be in
troduced at Bow street, and Kooley Fooley will
preside at the burning of a widow, on a nil o of
weeds collected from all the windows in the Me
tropolis.
Such are a few of the arrangements that may
be looked for, as the suite of tho recent measures
taken by the Pope of Rome for establishing his
authority in England—provided always that tho
measures in question are found to be effectual
for tho purposes desired.
CONSULAR ESTABLISHMENTS.
There have been occasional complaints, both
in this country and in England, ‘for the last
twenty years, respecting the inefficiency of tho
respective governments manifested in tho ap
pointment of that important class of public
agents called consuls. The consular establish- .
mont is too often regarded as an institution of
patronage for the benefit of political favorites, or
for the sons or friends of those who have politi
oal influences, and who are incapacitated for ob
taining a livelihood, either by their talents or
industry. They are, therefore, sent abroad to
transact the important duties of a consul, when
they are unfitted for any kind of honest employ
ment at heme. A British writer says that a
British consulate of the present day is no im
provement upon one of fifty years ago, when
his patron would say to him—“ I have obtained
the place for you; provide yourself with a quira
of foolscap and six pens, and go and levy fee..;
on dirty ships, pluck tho public goose as much
as you can without making her scream, and if
you do it well, in ten years you will bo rich ami :
respected.”
The British government has just appointed a
negro has consulate to Liberia; and unless she
had not a worthy white man who could fill the
place, it is an evidence that tho consular estab
lishment in Great Britain has not improved in
the last half century. Efforts have been made,
both in this country and in Great Britain, to
have consuls paid a fixed salary. But these ef
forts have not been entirely successful. Tha
fee system is degrading the establishment, and
should bo abolished. A consulate is an impor
tant officer, and one of immense service to the
government, if men of ability are selected. Bu t
at present it seems to be a brevet d'incapanC
for any useful employment.
Velocity or Electricity.—Professor Whrst
stoue had determined the velocity of a current
of electricity as not loss than 283,000jniles in a
second—Ffr iau has more recently inferred from
his exp'.imentsthattho electricity passed through. ®
iron wire at tho rate of 63,200 miles per second,
and through copper wire with a velocity equal to -S
110,000 miles in tho same time. Mr. Gouli *—
thinks these values far too high; and he given
as the results of his observations, which appeu
to have been made with much care, a velocity fo
lhe current electricity of not less than 12 000 no
more than 20,000 miles per second, as it travel
ses the telegraphic wire and tho earth in eomplei
ing the circuit connection.
American vs British 'Telegrai’iis Tha :
inimitable Punch ijays there.is considerable dif
ference between tho electrical fluids of John, v
Bull and his brother Jonathan. The Engli-h - -
complain of the tardiness of their Electric Tele- '
graph, and say that the “ electrical flash” there ~
is often no better than a “flash in the pan’
among the Yankees. Punch accounts partly foV ‘
the difference, by supposing that uu “ grease” .
our lightning hero before we start it, and then
it goes a little faster than the English article. Cv
Many run about alter leiioity, like an at?. -:
sent man hunting for his hat While it io in his''—
hand or oa his head. ■

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