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VOL. 7. NO. 19.
'A Story of New York at the Present Time
LIFE AND ADVENTURES of JACK ENGLE:
AN AUTO-BIOGRAPHY;
IN WHICH THE REARER WILL FIND SOME FAMILIAR CHARACTERS.
CHAPTER XIV.
Retrospective. What I learn on another
visit to Covert’s house. 1 return to the
office, and get a letter.
How the time rolled on! The summer
was nearly over, when the engagement was
made to go and see Wigglesworth, as men
tioned in Chapter Thirteen, and I had been
the bettor part of two years with Covert. 1
had passed Cape Twenty-one, in the moan
time, and was now legally a man. Violet,
the good soul, celebrated the event by a
grand supper, to which came Tom Peterson,
and seven or eight of my more intimate cro
nies ; and you may be sure I did not forget
Wigglesworth, although the latter Was quite
infirm, nor the progressive Nathaniel, nor
Jack either. Wigglesworth, poor fellow, in
sisted upon repenting for his sins; but still
he had been at the supper and was persuad
ed into having a good time.
I saw less of Inez than formerly, for she
had taken up her permanent abode in half of
Mrs. Fox’s cottage at Hoboken, where she
amused herself with a garden and Nancy's
children, of whom she was fond. Still I
found time to make her an occasional visit.
And whenever I went of a Sunday afternoon,
which was my most frequent period of
leisure, I was sure to bring home, for Violet,
a huge bouquet; the source of which I made
a great mystery of. And hence it came that
Ephraim let oif many jokes, at which nobody
laughed more heartily than himself.
My good parents, all this while, had jogg
ed on happily together, neither poor nor
rich; although Ephraim had found it ne
cessary to increase and enlarge his business,
and the old milk depot was now transformed
into quite an extensive provision or grocery
store, doing a good business and bringing to
us all a very fair income. Violet continued
to help her husband about the store; for she
would have it so, and could never, she said,
bo contented unless she bad something stir
ring and lively to employ her mind and body
about.
The excellent couple ; how really, and how
simply, they enjoyed life. With all their in
dustry they had a wise way of never getting
excited, nor overworking themselves, nor
crying over spilt milk—or as Ephraim pro
fessionally used to say, sour milk.
As for me, what little I had picked up of
law, was of not much account. The lapse of
time had never reconciled me to the profes
sion ; although incidents and acquaintance
and excitement, such as wo in Now York can
easily meet with, diverted my attention from
the despondency that began to come upon
me when 1 had been a student for the first
few weeks. Inez, too, had a share in rous
ing my gayety, and the vivacity that always
resides in young veins.
My feelings toward the Spaniard could not
be called by any means a profound love; at
at least so it seemed to me. For the only
test I could imagine, gave that supposition a
denial - I imagined how I should feel if Inez
were to leave the city and never return;
and, much as I liked the girl, 1 felt that her
departure wouldn’t break my heart.
So 1 have picked up some threads of my
story that had fallen away ; and find myself
at the morning of the day, where I was to go
that night, and see Wigglesworth. I had
made an engagement to that effect, it will be
remembered, two evenings before.
This day was quite a day in my fortunes.
First of all a discovery. Gould 1 mistake
those affectionate eyes, and the nimble fing
ers that had tied the handkerchief round
poor Billjiggs’s broken head? There, too,
was the very same placid expression, and the
goodness of heart, and the willingness to
oblige.
Covert had been kept home by illness, and
Wigglesworth being also absent, an unusual
thing for him, I was under the necessity of
going up to the lawyer’s house several times.
One of these times, in the room whore I had
to wait a while, there was an old portrait of a
lady that seemed to me like one I had seen in
a dream. It was a Quakeress, with the neat
cap and neckerchief, painted with the man
ner of looking at you, which gives such vi
vidness to a really good portrait. A long
long time this picture riveted my attention;
and then the truth came upon me like a flash
of light!
That elderly lady—was it any one in the
world but the hospitable nurse and helper of
myself and my poor wounded friend, in the
early times of my vagabondism ? There could
be no mistaking it.
And now like another flash, came upon my
mind, the looks of the young woman, who
had opened the door for me, the night of the
electioneering meeting; and whoso face was
then such a puzzle to me. She was the little
girl of years before, remembered so well for
a long time; indeed never forgotten; the
little girl of the basement and the handker
chief.
If there were really anything in those
hints of Wigglesworth, this, too, must be
the orphan to whom he alluded. The whole
affair assumed an interest; and I determin
ed to seize the first chance of making the ac
quaintance of the young Quakeress. I al
ready knew that her name was Martha.
Fortune favored me ; for Martha came in-
to the room with her sewing basket, and
telling me that Mr. Covert wished me to
wait till he finished writing some papers
which I was to take back to the office, she
eat down, with one of those commonplace
remarks about the weather, which are so of
ten made in default of other conversational
material.
“Whose portrait is that ?” I asked.
“That is a lady thee has never seen,” said
Martha, “it is the portrait of Mrs. Covert,
who died three years ago. I have reason to
remember it. She was a second mother to
mo ; and with her I passed, as a child, many
happy years ”
“You are mistaken about my never having
seen her. And it is a good likeness.”
The young woman looked up astonished ;
and without more ado, I gave a rapid sketch
of the scene in the basement, and asked her
if she did not remember it. Yes, she re
membered it quite well.
“And was it thy wounded head I bound”’
“No ; 1 was the other little loafer.”
“Ah, yes,; 1 remember, there were two
boys Mrs. Covert and I often spoke of thee
and thy friend afterward.”
“Martha’s countenance grow animated,
and we talked of the good lady awhile. She
had been the owner of some little property,
and that, advanced in life as she was, must
have been her fascination to Covert.
As Martha talked, the glow of feeling lit
up her features, and she looked really beau
tiful, At the same time, there wore traces
of melancholy and lassitude about her, which
I felt sorry to see. She avoided any refer
ence to her father, except to toll me that her
earliest childhood was passed with Mrs. Co
vert, both parents having died while she was
but a year or two old ; and of the latter she
appeared to wish no inquiries about them. 1
saw that there was something connected
with their history which made her withdraw
from making any talk on the subject; for
Martha’s face, to a very remarkable degree,
was au almost provoking index to her heart
and nature.
It seemed, after all, strangers that we
were until this moment, that we were not
strangers either, in fact; but old acquaint
ances. We fell at once into the friendly talk
of persons who had that relation to each
other.
Martha told me that Covert was her guar
dian ; that after her parents’ death she was
* taken altogether to his house, where she had
lived agreeably with the old lady, the only
absenpo being that she spent four years at a
girls’ boarding school. She spoke feelingly
of Mrs. Covert's death, which had been a
great trial to her.
That she was not happy here now, what
ever might have been the case, I was con
vinced, from her demeanor and mode of an
swering my half-interrogatories that way.
For i had get so interested that I almost
asked her.
The door opened, and there, looking yel
lower than ever, stood Mr. Covert in his dres
sing gown. He paused a moment, his eyes
bent hard at us ; and when he spoke there
was more agitation, perhaps anger, in his
tones than was usual tor him ;
“What havo thee two to do or say togeth
er i ’
Astonished at such abruptness, Martha
dropped her work and looked at him in sur
prise. For my part, it was only because the
man was so unmistakably ill that I refrained
from giving him a very summary reply.
“Go Martha,” he said, “and, young man,
1 tell thee, there is good reason why theo
should not be so friendly hero.”
Martha rose hurriedly and, as she went
out, I saw the unsuppressed tears falling
rapidly from her eyes.
“You are pleased to talk in a manner I
cannot understand, sir,” said 1, angrily.
“Doubtless, doubtless,” he answered, sit
ting down, for he seemed to grow faint, “but
thee can at least understand that 1 do not
wish any intimacy between Martha and thee.”
His eyes were bright with passion. Was
it for me to bandy words with this sick man
—and upon something it seemed as though
wo neither of us knew what we were talking
about ?
I took the papers I had been waiting for,
and left the house.
1 stopped by the way for an hour or more,
to see Tom Peterson. Tom was by trade a
machinist, and, young as he was, had arrived
at the station of foreman in a large thrifty
establishment, whose proprietors thought a
good deal of him, and trusted him more than
anyone else in their employ. Was it not
that this manly trade, had something to do
in forming my friend’s character ? I had a
notion that way, and a vague feeling of the
sort it was that had caused a good deal of
my repugnance to the law.
Tom had gone to his trade eight years be
fore, from his own choice ; and he was now
considered as thorough a workman as any in
the land. He got good wages, and, as it was
well understood that such a man as he could
not be picked up everywhere, my friend was
very independent, and demanded of the
wealthy gentlemen who hired him, the same
civility toward himself which ho invariably
used towards them.
You see Hike to talk about Tom Peterson.
And, reader, it would have done you good
had you known him. He was such a fine
specimen of a young American machanic .
” i fold my meuTol my visit tbCo vert’s
house, and of. Martha, and the lawyer's in
dignation.
“He’s a bad man,” rejoined Tom, bluntly,
“and I tell you what, Jack, although it’s
none of my business, if I,was you, I’d cut
loose from him and his affairs as soon as pos
sible. Rebecca Seligny is the sharpest woman
to understand a fellow’s character that I ov
er saw; and she despises him. Why the
fellow, as sanctified as he looks, is carnal
enough, according to her story. She is mad
at the sound of his name.
“ She likes you better,” said I, waggishly.
“ Could she show a better sign of taste and
judgment?” responded Tom. “But don’t
let us say anything more about Rebecca. I
expect we shall quarrel soon; for the dear
girl is very exacting.”
Tom’s advice was not so much, different
from my own feelings, as to make me think
no farther about it. And I had now begun
to feel enough interested in Martha, to want
to know something more,
Nathaniel aad his dog stopped from their
exercise—they had been commemorating the
absence of ajll hands from business by run
ning races up and down the walk in front—
they stopped and came up stairs with me
when I reached the office.
“You return in good time, Don Cm ar,”
said Nat, “for a messenger from the Prin
cess has just loft this for you.”
He gave me a note 1 thought the boy was
fooling, and tossed it back to him. But he
grew serious, and told me that it was brought
but a moment before by a little darkey, who,
in answer to Nat’s inquisitiveness, could
only say that it was given to him by a young
lady, with a shilling to bring it down as ad
dressed.
I opened it, and read as follows :
“I write this immediately on your de
parture.
“ This no time to stand on ceremony ; and
1 will follow the impulse of my heart. Alas!
I have so few friends that it will not do for
me to lose the chance of one, although I may
seem immodest in writing so. Few ? Where,
indeed, have I any ?
“ I atfi unhappy here, to a degree which I
will not undertake to narrate upon paper.
1 was.muoh interested in your description of
your adopted parents, Ephraim Foster and
the good Violet. I wish to know them I
wish to speak with them.
“ I have not time to continue my discord
ant note; but come at once to the point.
Will you for I must ask it will you, un
less you hear from me again, call for me. to
morrow evening, and show me to Foster’s
house, and introduce me to him and his
Wife ?
“ You will then learn the reason of my
singular request. M ”
At dinner time, I showed this note to Vio
let and prepared her for the visit. Her
motherly heart always warmed toward those
who had fallen in distress ; and it was plain
that poor Martha was suffering under
troubles of no ordinary character.
CHAPTER XV.
A strange history revealed. — Mr. Covert's
conduct accounted for.
I could only sit and Us tan, without saying
a word, then; for such a web of villainy and
romance quite took away my breath! Was
my mind under the influence of no dream ?
Had I not been overpowered with some work
of fiction ? No. I looked deliberately about
the little attic bedroom; and there was the
high window, and on another side Wiggles
worth’s lank bed, with its check coverlid;
and near by the antiquated washstand, and
the table by which we sat, and on which lay
a package of manuscript; and, leaning
against the wall an odd chair, and all lit
up by the lamp giving its -flickering light.
And there in the kind of seat called a
Boston rocker, sat poor old Wigglesworth
himself. Although he had been out that
afternoon, towards dark, and had a long in
terview with Martha, it was more than he
ought to have done, I was quite shocked
with the ghastly appearance of the poor old
man, and his lurid and bloodshot eyes! He
ceuld not be long for this world. Indeed he
told me he didn’t think he should have lived
till the present hour, except that he thought
he had one work to perform And he couldn’t
rest in peace, if it was not done.
“ I tell you Jack,” said he, excitedly,
“ this is all that has kept me up for a long
while past. As for my body, it gave out
months ago. It is dead I tell you; yon can
see that for yourself.”
Poor creature! you did look more like a
corpse, that moment, than a living being.
“The mind, Jack,” the old man went on,
“ I never before thought it had such wonder
ful power, But I resolved to live until I
had unravelled the web of deviltry which,
as I have told you, I providentially got the
clue of; I determined that I would last till
this revelation could be made —was made.
And now, 0 my God, I thank thee !”
Ho motioned to me to hand him a glass of
water from the stand. When he had taken
it, ho continued : '
“ You will know without my telling you,
that I soon after my engagement in his office
found out Covert to be a villain. I knew,
too, that he had, as Martha’s guardian, con
trol over quite an extensive property; but,
bad as he was at heart, X did not until lately
believe him so utterly vile as not only to de
fraud her of her inheritance, but to make
that friendless girl a victim to his licentious
passions ”
I started. And now, ah ! I began to see
the meaning of Martha’s note, and its hidden
allusions. Wigglesworth went on :
“ Martha’s affairs involve a peculiar his
tory, extending many years back The
package on the table there was written
by her father—written in prison, where he
was confined for a terrible crime done in the
heat of passion. That crime, with his im
prisonment, and his death, could not but ex
ercise a gloomy effect upon her; although
she was an infant when they occurred.
“ Poor girl! the more I have learned
the more I am interested about her;
and this afternoon’s interview with her
decided me to unburthen the whole mat
ter, without any reserve, to you. It was
for the better understanding of it all, that
Martha gave me her father’s story, prepared
by himself, which reached her from a trusty
i source, some time since, and which she has
kept, unknown to Covert. Take this pack
et, then Jack; but do not read it tilt you
, have leisure to weigh well what you read.
Some evening let it be, when you are alone,
, for there is weighty stuff in it. And though
you already know the particulars which are
contained in it, you have perhaps a right to
hear the witness of him wno made you fath
erless, and to know how deeply he repented
and suffered for it.”
, Truly it was more like romance than sober
life, in a dwelling in one of the streets ol
this matter-of fact city. And, after I had
buttoned the manuscript in my breast pocket,
i I had to thump there from time to time, tt
i convince myself that 1 was really awake.
) As I rose to bid him good night, Wiggles
worth took my hand between his, and 1 fell
those feeble palms, thin and cold!
“ Jack,” said he, “do not think 1 wander
i, in ray thoughts ; but I know that I have no
many days, perhaps many hours, more ti
5 live. 1 have left some few directions witl
t -the landlord who keeps this place. He is ai
honest man whom I have known for years
, and lam sure he will obey them faithfully
3 Yon will think me something of an aristocrat
,1 ack, but I wish to be buried in my mother’
t vault —she was of the old English stock, th
r early ones here, Jack—in Trinity church
yard. That will cost money, too, as the oit;
[ regulations are now; but I have long provi
tied for that, and my landlord, who know
- my wish, is my banker. You shall go wit
t my old friend-—probably, indeed, none bn
t you two -and see that my shattered hulk i
’ put away there, according to my wish, Wil
s you not, Jack ?”
a 1 strove, although it went somewhat against
It the grain, for I felt a profound sadness ;
g strove to answer in a cheerful manner, an
told him that we might have many a pleat
■, ant supper together yet, and that he woul
get over his illness and come out a new mat
», | The old clerk made no response, for he sa
that my cheerfulness was labored. That
chilling, feeble pressure of his thin, pulseless
hands, at parting : it sends a palsy through
me, as I remember it, now.
Only when I got out in the cool open air,
and slowly, very slowly, took my way home,
did the information I had gathered that eve
ning take consistent form and shape, and
spread out before me in such a manner that
1 could realize, and bring it home to myself,
as a tangible history.
To myself! Yes.it concerned me, as near
ly as the young Quakeress, of whom Covert
was the guardian Strange that our inter
ests were, after all, so closely connected to
gether. And not only our interests but our
very lives—bound by a doubly-solemn tie.
Yes, myself! From what Wigglesworth
had gathered, lat last knew of myself. The
old man had been indefatigable ; and truly,
as he said, for the last few months, he had
lived but for hardly any other purpose than
to investigate and make plain the mystery.
He had even, by dint of the closest inquiry,
going backward many years, sought out the
whereabouts and particulars of the strange
visitors, who, years before, boarded with
Calvin Peterson, and whoso visit to Ephraim’s
and real or apparent knowledge of me and
my origin, I have mentioned in a former
chapter. This man, Wigglesworth pursued
the track of: he discovered the place to
which he sailed; and that he had settled
there, and was living there yet. The old
clerk entered into correspondence with him,
and his information corroborated what he had
In many other ways—in every way—by
examining the records of courts —by retro
spective searches in every quarter—the ar
dent old man had come to such a state of
certainty as to leave no room for doubt or
disbelief. Moreover, acoonlpanying the man
uscript which he gave me, were papers that
fortified to a point of positive proof, every
point of the following strange narrative.
Martha’s father was a young man of what
the followers of Penn calls the World’s Peo
ple ; it was only her mother who belonged to
the Quaker sect. The match, however, was
one altogether for love. They had no other
child but the little girl. They were possess
ed of very considerable wealth, and lived in
comfortable style, in a house he owned, just
near enough to the great metropolis to give
him all the advantages of its luxuries and its
intellectual enjoyments, and just far enough
away for him to possess the pleasures of
country freedom and space. For the hus
band was a man of same literary taste, and,
young as he was, he had seen much of the
world, having travelled both abroad and in
America.
Like the blast of death, or the trumpet of
the destroying angel, there came, in the
twinkling of an eye, something that destroy
ed at once all these blessings, present and in
perspective!
A horrible occurrence, none the less dead
ly in its consequences because it was partly
the result of one of those fearful and acci
dental liabilities to which any man, op fam
ily, might be subject, came to wither the
happiness of a loving husband and wife; and
have a future effect on a beautiful and inno
cent little child! The husband and wife
bent to the destructive blow, and lifted not
their heads from the ground—in which they
sought nothing better than quiet graves.
The child was too young to feel the horror
that overwhelmed her parents. She grew up
under other fostering care, into the beautiful
and tender-uatured. but still bold and ener
getic, Martha.
This fearful thing wjs, that the husband,
in a moment of excessive irritation, struck
one of his workmen, who had somehow of
fended him, a deadly blow on the head. It
caused death—and that death, by a coinci
dence that made my blood chill—was noth
ing less than the death of my own father !
Again 1 had to connect in my mind, link
by link, the inevitable chain of evidence that
Wigglosworth had gathered, before I could
believe any thing so much like romance
The murderer was arrested, put in eon
tinement, and, in due time, arrived the day
appointed for his trial.
But that day he never saw. He was in
prison but a few hours, when his young wife,
overwhelmed, with these dismal misfortunes,
died of a broken heart. And, after that, he
sank, slowly but surely, into decay; and only
asked to be buried by her side.
Yet, during the days before his death, his
mind, whioh seemed to have been of great
arrangedlifs worldly affairs with great cir
cumspection, drew up most of his own papers
under legal advice, and had them properly
certified and recorded. He made his will, in
whioh he did not forget the offspring of the
poor workman, his victim It is useless to
deny that I both look upon the slain man,
and feel toward him, nothing more than as I
would look upon the same gloomy fate, be
falling a stranger. And is it wonuerful that
it is so ? He was, indeed, though my parent,
really a stranger Our feelings are the
creatures of association and education; and,
even while my brain felt the shock, through
sympathy, that must have followed all those
events, I thought of them more as a listener
to the story, than as one having any special
point of interest that came home pointedly
to me.
And, reader, that is the way I feel about
it to this day. I will have the merit of can
dor, if I have not of sensitive feelings.
The day appointed for the trial, found the
accused man before a higher tribunal than
any here on earth. It was the day on which
lie was buried by the side of his wife; and
then the affair, which had been much talked
about, and will even now be remembered by
some perhaps who read these lines, dropped
away gradually from the public mind.
It so happened that the principal legal
adviser for Martha’s father, during the lew
weeks of his'imprisonment, was Covert, then
j ust commencing the practice of the profes
sion. He so wrought upon the young man’s
mind, distracted with his condition, as to bo
appointed gustrdian of bis infant daughter,
and to get the general control of his estate.
Although the father was prudent enough to
put certain checks on Covert’s movements,
and effect, to some extent, a superior control
over that cunning villain; the main object
of which had been for many years, on the
part of the lawyer, to circumvent and get
out of the way,
Calvin Peterson's pious boarder, who had
come to see me atEphriam’s, was my father’s
brother. One of his answers to Wigglesworth,
stated that my mother’s death took place a
year or two before my father was killed;
and that I was their only child.
By the copies of documents which Wig
glesworth put me in possession of, it ap
peared that the will of Martha’s father di
rected the settlement of one third of his for
tune upon the offspring of, as he termed it,
his victim. This item, and the specific direc
tions regarding It, appeared to have been
prepared and recorded with all the fore
thought which characterized the arrange
ment of his other affairs.
Covert, undoubtedly, at some pains and
care to himself, kept this point a secret. For
he was made thoroughly aware of the wishes
of the unfortunate gentleman, and of the
fact that the slain workman bad a little
child, who would be turned loose upon the
world unoared for.
That he wished the sole management of the
property, intending it should eventually
come into his own hands, was enough to
make him lie low, in the beginning. It was
also enough, afterwards,jwhen he learned, as
he did learn, tnat the little lost waif had
turned up in the student of his own office, to
make him continue the game of deceit and
falsefaocdness.
Undoubtedly, after my father’s death —for
1 was too little to remember any thing at all
about it —I had been turned from door to
door, in some way escaping the cold chari
ties of the alms-house, as I was, it seems,
not absolutely without the power of locomo
tion. But }. have already treated to a suf
ficient degree on that part of my history;
and, if there is any thing more wanting, the
reader must supply it from his or her im
agination.
CHAPTER XVI.
What was determined on in a family
council.
The next day, which was Sunday, like a
fellow who is burthened with more than he
can carry, 1 took Tom Peterson into my con
fidence, and told him the whole of the events
and revelations of the night before Tom
opened his eyes, when he found out that I
was really serious. I had already imparted
all of them to Violet and Ephraim; who
were confounded beyond measure and wished
to refleet the whole day before concluding
what course to take.
It was a pleasant Sunday forenoon, and
Tom and 1 crossed the North River, to Hobo
ken, and strolled along to Inez'cottage A
sudden thought seized me, as I saw the hap
py and lovely appearance of that little dwel
ling, where the joint labors of Inez, Nancy,
and four or five out of the eight little Poxes,
had caused vines to bloom, and pleasant
shrubbery, and some late flowers that were
quite gay, even at this advanced season. —
Nancy herself was out there in front, and
welcomed me, and told me to go up at once
in the second story, and make myself and my
friend at home in Inez - sitting room.
Verily this was a day of telling news, and
making confidants For L again went oyer
the whole history of Martha, to the dancing
girl, and asked her whether, in case it was
necessary, she would take the Quakeress
under her protection and hospitality for a
short time.
“That I will,” said she, with spirit, “find
if Mr. Covert dares set his foot here, against
the young woman’s will, Nancy and I will
NEW YORK, SUNDAY MORNING, APRIL 4, 1852.
salute him with such a reception that he
won’t forget us, years to come ”
1 told Inez that I might require her to
make her words good ; and that if so, I would
give her due warning. She told mo not to bo
afraid of calling in her assistance; and that
she only wanted a good chance to take a lit
tle revenge on Covert for his intentions to
ward her spare cash.
It seemed that it was somewhat as I sus
pected when Inez came down to the office,
many months before. The shrewd Spaniard,
from some cause or other, had her suspi
cious aroused, waited a few weeks before
purchasing the stock which Covert recom
mended, and in which Ferris was interested,
and then a few weeks longer ; and then had
the satisfaction to read in the papers how the
whole edifice, stock and all, of Mr. Peppe
rich Ferris’s wonderful company had tumbl
ed to the ground—and how luckily her dol
lars just escaped!
You may be sure, the mettlesome Spaniard
had fire enough in her veins to resent
the deliberate design of cheating her, al
most as much as if it had been successfully
accomplished. For that it was a deliberate
design, there could be no dispute.
Even Mr, ,J. Fitzmore Smytthe came in for
his share of the high-strung girl’s displea
sure. And, at his next visit, Inez saluted
him with such a voluble and fiery tongue,
that this genteel and taciturn individual was
fain to put his fingers in his ears and beat a
retreat in double quick time. That ho had
received We walking papers, however, was a
work of special grace to me ; 1 by no moans
mourned his absence from Inez’s rooms when
I visited there; considering in such oases
that two made a much pleasanter party than
three.
When we returned to Now York, I bespoke
the services of Tom Peterson, too; for I had
a scheme in my head. Tom promised to do
anything for me, from tossing Covert out of
his own window to holding the light while 1
wrote him a challenge.
When Martha, that night, under my
charge, according to the request made in her
note, left Covert’s house—he was confined
to his room yet, fortunately—l felt that it
would perhaps be better for her to go back
no more. She was now free from the
wretch’s premises, and why should she place
herself in his power again ? K
I proposed this, in full family council; and
it was considered favorably, until Martha
herself put the negative on it. She said that
it was her intention to leave, but not to
night. She knew, too, that she would be
under the necessity of leaving clandestinely;
for Covert had all the restlessness and sus
picion of a guilty mind. An additional reason
was that there were sundry articles, and
some important documents which she must
take away with her when she did go. *
For Couert had not all the cunning of the
game on his side. Wigglesworth and the
young Quakeress, during the three days past,
had made some master-moves; and, deep as
I knew the lawyer to be, it seemed, when I
heard all, that they were likely to counter
mine him. Above all, they W-l tko U.1V.1T1 1,-
age of working unknown to him. Little did
the scamp suspect that, all the while he was
tied there to his bed-side, the girl whom he
looked upon as his helpless victim, and whom
the disgusting brute intended as his victim
in a doable sense, wag quietly, with the in- I
valuable help of his clerk, who know more
about his affairs than any other person—was
quietly, I say, digging the very ground from
under his feet.
It had been the lawyer’s policy, by slow
degrees to get the property which was left
by Martha’s father, to be made use of as di
rected in his will; this property it was Co
vert’s design, steadily pursued, year after
year, to get transformed into paper repre
sentatives, such as government or state
bonds, certificates of deposite, and so forth.
Indeed, it was the persevering and mysteri
ous course of this proceeding that aroused
Wigglesworth's first suspicions; he knew
that the property belonged to Martha, that
it was at first well aud reliably invested;
and that, in being sold, it was frequently
sacrificed, and a loss suffered on the second
purchase, without any gain. As to Martha,
she was ignorant of business, and without
knowing why or wherefore, signed almost
every paper that Covert presented to her.
The best and most important move of all,
was, that Wigglesworth had made use of his
knowledge of Covert’s affairs, to give Martha
such instructions and such a description of
they were undeniably hers—that she had
found out where the lawyer kept them intis
house, and was prepared to pounce upon
and take possession of them, when she got a
good opportunity, and bear them off. A
woman and a lawyer’s clerk, have they not
some sharpness ?
All these things being discussed in the
family council, it was determined that there
was no time to be lost. Covert might dis
cover the plans that were making headway
against his vile machinations, and use his
lawyer tricks in such a way aa to stop us all
off. We decided therefore that Martha should
leave his house, for good, the next night,
Violet and Ephraim would willingly have
had her take up her abode with them;
but it was thought best, instead, to accept
the offer of Inez, which I mentioned, and
whom I promised to notify the next day
These points were conned over and decided
in short metre ; for Martha was to be home
again at nine o’clock. When I waited upon
her back, I told her I hoped she would not
be discouraged, nor fail me, at the appoint
ed time, which we purposely put at midnight
for greater security. The stout-hearted girl
assured me that if she were living it should
be as we had planned it out, unless our plans
failed by moans other than any that depend
ed on her.
My sleep was disturbed that night by Mar
tha’s fortunes ; and I half-dreamed of the
homicide in which our two different parents
had played so sad a part. I forgot to say
that Martha herself had not yet learned of
my being the son of her father’s victim. I
had charged Ephraim and Violet to be care
ful of mentioning this to her. Wigglesworth
I knew would not.
Among the first things I attended to, next
forenoon, were, the dispatching of a note to
Inez by a trusty hand, and then calling on
Tom Peterson, whose help I engaged in a
way that we shall understand by and by.
I asked Nathaniel if I could have his
assistance that evening carrying off a prin
cess from’a tormenting monster. The young
gentleman informed me that whatever man
dared he would dare. I told him I was
serious. As for him, he but loved too well
any thing in the shape of an adventure,
especially if it was to be on my rosponsibil
ity.
I would have felt some qualms about steal
ing Martha away in this manner, if 1 hadn’t
been so sure that subtlety must be opposed
to subtlety; and that, if Covert had any
thing like open and premature defiance he
would in all likelihood outwit us all. But
once safely away, Martha in possession of
the afore-mentioned valuable papers and
bonds, I felt that wo could make a stout
fight against him. Besides, I had the array
of documents, and an index of scores more
to prove, if the event needed, the thorough
ness and veracity of my narration. These
Wigglesworth had given me, the evening of
our memorable interview.
Poor old man ! I stepped up a moment to
see him. He lay on his narrow bed, without
uttering a word, and looking wan, and wast
ed to a skeleton, but still with an expression
of peace in his countenance. I bid him a
mental farewell, for I doubted whether I
should ever see him alive again.
CHAPTER XVII.
An escape attempted, and what happened
during the same.
The appointed hour arrived, and there 1
was ready—ready, and away with my prize !
Martha, I saw by the flashing of a lamp as
we passed, looked as pale as ashes; but there
could be no mistaking the resolution, amount
ing to sternness, in her eyes. Her compress
ed lips, too, and that whole expression of her
features, were so unusual as to give her an
appearance I had never remarked in her be
fore. Could the gentle Quaker girl, indeed,
have all this time, contained such elements
of spirit and promptitude ? I had not un
derstood her properly, that was certain.
Nat hurried to us, from the corner near
by, where he had been waiting. Ho had his
dog Jack with him, and the' two, with a cer
tain activity, were more quiet than usual for
them.
“Mr. Peterson and I’ve got the boat wait
ing,” said Nat, “ and we'll soon row you
over.” . T
As for that, if it wore necessary, I could
take a hand myself, thanks to the practice
which most New York boys get along her
docks and shores.
Nat told us that he had almost given us
up, and was just on the point of depanure.
He supposed that some unforeseen obstacle
intervened, and Martha’s flight had been
postponed to a more convenient season.
Martha’s bundle; I gave it to Nat with a
great caution of its importance.
We hurried rapidly along the streets, Mar
that bolding to my arm, though she needed
little support: for the brave girl felt in this
emergency of her life, as she afterward told
me, fully capable of taking her own part,
even should some still more eventful crisis
occur, and she become deprived of my sup-
Nat, carrying the parcel which Martha had
brought away, was the only cause I had for
disturbance. Our quick steps, and a certain
flutter which could not be avoided, in our de
meanor. joined with this parcel, I feared,
might arouse the inquisitive suspicions of
the watchmen. lat first thought of direct
ing Nat to keep some distance behind us; but
as we didn't know exactly the locality of the
dock wlerc, as he informed us, the boat lay;
and indeed, as we took our course from street
to street and hurriedly around corner after
corner, without settled plan—there was no
other war than to stick together and run our
chances. •
“ What is your hurry, neighbors I” salut
«d our ears, as a watchman stepped out from
tie doorway of a corner grocery we were
winding by.
He marched right in front of us and block
ed our way,
I coked him as coolly as I could in the
face, vnd asked him what he meant by stop
ping ui in that manner.
“ No offence,” said he, “ only I always try
to do my duty.”
“ Well what has your duty to do with us?”
“ Perhaps nothing, and then, again, per
haps stmething,” was his answer.
I suppressed my annoyance as well as 1
could. Then Martha, with woman’s instinct,
remark'd, with a quiet tone ;
“ Now friend, do not prevent us ; but take
this shiling and refresh thyself with some
oolfee, art lot us go on our way peaceably.”
The geitlc voice of Martha, whose manner
showed he to be so different from what the
guardian cf the night no doubt supposed,
reassured fim probably more than the coin,
and he said be did not mean any harm, but
he had to lo«k out and do his duty.
We hurried. on as before, and worn within
a couple of squares °f the river, when we
were suddenly stopped, from behind, by two
watchmen, one of whom laid a hand firmly
on my shoulder.
“ What’s your hu-ry, this dark night ?”
he said coolly.
I didn’t like his tme at all. If there be
any thing in a man’i voice to judge his in
tentions by, he was a different fellow from
the one whose good (ffioes we had escaped, a
few minutes before Besides, there were
two of ’em ; and, in inch a case, a little gra
tuity was not likely to have any effect.
“ What have you ii that bundle ?” said he
to Nat.
I felt Martha’s am tremble a little, but
she answered distinctly.
“ The young man tarries some clothing and
other things, that bdong to me.”
“ Are you sure tiny have always belonged
to you ?” he.
“ Perfectly sure,” said Martha, with a self
possession that fully equalled that of her in
terrogator.
“ And what is your name ?” he asked
again.
Martha made no ansver to this question ;
and there was a pause, which I felt to be an
awkward one.
“ That can be of little consequence,” said
I, “ and you must excuse her from answering
your question.”
“There’s no harm, or disgrace, in honest
men, or women cither, telling their names,”
said he, peering sharply into Martha’s face.
She stood his look without wincing, but
still made no reply.
“ Ladies do not care ab'-aV ——TT Wr
to all people, honest and delicate as they
may be,” said I tv* want of something bet
ter to sav / wit I will cheerfully give you
my address.”
He took the parcel from Nat, although
that young gentleman showed signs of a
somewhat pugnacious spirit, and refused at
iirst to give it up, preferring, as ho said, to
keep it in his own possession, until demanded
by some authority having a proper right.
But 1 signed to him to make no opposition,
as I supposed the officer merely wished to
see if there were any special evidences where
from he might come at once to some judg
ment on the good or bad ground of his sus
picions
The bundle bad been put up in haste, and
so far went to justify an inference unfortu
nate to us. But it appeared to satisfy him
that it contained no articles of weight; and
he after balancing it a moment in his hands,
feeling of it, and turning it over, returned
it to Nathaniel. The boy took it angrily,
and favored him with a scowl which would
have been appropriate enough in deep trage
dy. The watchman, however, paid not the
smallest attention to the angry youngster.
“ Remain a moment just as you are,” said
ho ; and stepped a couple of paces aside, and
conferred with his companion
Wc felt that it would not be safe to pur
sue any other course than the one which was
feasibility of
or attempting it; but there was more dan
ger than chance of success in that; and wc
relinquished it. The one who had first
spoken then stepped back, the silent gentle
man appearing to leave everything to the
direction of the other :
“You are probably very honest people,”
said he, “and as good as lam myself. But
I think it best for you to go with me to the
police quarters on the next block ; you will
not, I think, have to stay more than a few
minutes. At least I hope so.”
I commenced to remonstrate with him, hut
ho was firm. There was nothing left us, but
to follow his orders.
Even now, although the circumstances
would seem to be enough to try the temper
of a strong-minded man, I could sec no signs
of alarm or disturbance on Martha’s part
She clung a little closer to me, but her look
was as composed and her walk just as even
and self-reliant, as before.
Master Nat, however, did not by any
means take it so philosophically. Ho declined
going at all, and there seemed some chance
of a disturbance; for the officers turned
sternly to him, aud cue of them raised his
arm. Jack growled and erected the hair of
his neck. A moment more, and there would
probably have been a fight; for when Nat’s
blood was up, and Jack’s too, they would
have made battle with St. George’s dragon
himself.
“ What,” said Martha, stepping to the boy,
and, as she stood between him and the con
stable, laying her hand on his shoulder,
“theewill not desert us now, when wo want
thy help the most.”
It was enough. The premeditated tempest
was quelled. Nat picked up the parcel from
where it dropped on the flag stones, tucked
it under his arm, chirped for the dog to fol
low him, and without a word further trudg
ed, with oast-down eyes, to meet the same
fate as ours
The distance to the police station was soon
reached, and we entered the front way, pass
ed through to the back room, and there
waited the pleasure of our captors.
Two or three half-dozing men were on a
wooden settee in the room. One of them
rose and civilly brought a chair for Martha,
who sat down I stood with my hands on the
back of the chair, not feeling very well at
ease. Nathaniel rested himself on a stool near
by, and Jack, evidently aware that there
was now leisure for it, stretched himself at
full length on the floor, and had a good
time with his head between his fore-paws.
To be Continued.
Buried Alive.; —The last number ol'the
London Weekly Times relates the following
singular story. An officer of artillery, a man
of gigantic stature and of robust health,
being thrown from an unmanageable horse,
received a very severe contusion upon the
head, which rendered him insensible at once.
The skull was slightly fractured; but no im
mediate danger wag apprehended. Trepan
ning was accomplished successfully. He was
bled, and many other of the ordinary means
of relief were adopted. Q radually, however,
he fell into a more and more hopeless state
of stupor; and, finally, it was thought that
he died. The weather was warm; and he
was buried, with indecent haste, in one of the
public cemeteries. His funeral took place on
Thursday. On the Sunday following, the
grounds of the cemetery were, as usual,
much thronged with visitors; and, about
noon, an intense excitement was created by
the declaration of a peasant, that, while he
was sitting upon the grave of the officer, he
had distinctly felt a commotion of the earth,
as if occasioned by some one struggling be
neath. At first, little attention was paid to
the man’s asseveration ; but his evident ter
ror, and the dogged obstinacy with which he
persisted in his story, had at length their
natural effect upon the crowd. Spades wore
hurriedly procured, and the grave, which
was shamefully shallow, was, in a few min
utes, so far thrown open that the head of its
occupant appeared. He was then seemingly
dead; but he sat nearly erect within his
coffin, the lid of which, in bis furious strug
gles, he had partially uplifted. He was
forthwith conveyed to i.he nearest hospital,
and there pronounced to he still living, al
though in an asphy tic condition. After some
hours he revived, recognised individuals of
his acquaintance, and, in broken sentences,
spoke of his agonies in the grave. From
what he related, it. was clear that he must
have been conscious of life for more than an
hour, while inhumed, before lapsing into in
sensibility. Tho grave was carelessly and
loosely filled with a loose, porous soil; and
thus some air was necessarily admitted. Ho
heard the footsteps of the crowd overhead,
and endeavored to make himself heard in
turn It was the tumult, within the grounds
of the cemetery, he said, which appeared to
awaken him from a deep sleep; but no sooner
was he awake than be became fully aware of
the awful horrors of his position.
Mendicants.—Generally speaking, a
man who gives to a street beggar, does harm
instead of good. They are almost invariably
imposters, who are unwilling to work, and
whose woeful stories are fictitious, invented
to excite sympathy. A man may benefit
himself by yielding to generous and charita
ble impulses, but he rarely docs otherwise
than injure society by encouraging the beg
gars of our cities.
MODERN MFSTERIES.
Under this head we shall endeavor, as
promised last week, to elucidate so far
as we are capable, or our present knowl
edge permit, the various phenomena which
have, and are daily, occupying a large space
of the public attention, under the various
designations of Electrical Effects, Biology,
Psycology, Clairvoyance, Superior Condition
and Spiritual Manifestations.
However much the unthinking or the nar
row-minded may scout at the independent
productions of any of the above named phe
nomena—attributing the astonishing effects
produced or observable to collusion, fraud,
humbug, or weakness of mind, they arenev
ertheless remarkable. We shall not at this
period of our investigations—necessarily cir
cumscribed as they are-attempt to prove,
nor yet condemn, the pretensions set up by
their advocates.
Occupying a middle ground, we shall dis
cuss impartially whatever may be presented
of sufficient worth or interest to the reader.
These phenomena challenge attention and
inquiry. They are too violent as contrasted
with our preconceived ideas and operations of
present known laws, to be readily accredited
even by the most impressible mind. In an
that improper or exaggerated manifesta
tions will be favorably received, unless the
most irrefragable proofs arc brought to bear
in favor of these extraordinary psycical ex
periments. Thousands have witnessed in
this city, and elsewhere, under the titles of
Psycology, Mental Alchemy, or Biology, psy
cic manifestations which, if they had been
related by a traveller as having occurred in
a far distant and not frequently visited
country, they would be set down as off
springs of a lively or fertile imagination.
But having observed effects produced from
the action of certain known causes, in our
midst, we are prepared to believe that which
our eyes really and truthfully have seen.
Knowing that certain laws if properly em
ployed will produce positive effects, we shall
endeavor to explain their modus operandi,
sufficiently for any individual to, equally
with the most experienced teachers, induce
the end aimed at.
Fifty years ago, a man who would dare,
in a public assemblage to exhibit before
thousands,—as did Professor Williams at Me
tropolitan Hall—would have been set down
as a necromancer, or one in league with Sa
yan. Probably the majority of those who
were present, when they first noticed the
■“T''**"* —— - ■ -
by this Williams, wore incredulous, and im
mediately assigned as the cause, collusion.
But gradually as they saw friend after
friend brought under the control of the oper
ator, their incredibility gave way to astonish
ment, and astonishment to the certainty,
that as there could possibly be no collusion
between the manipulator and the patient, the
effect must necessarily be assigned to some
unknown, positive, but not recognized law.
So with reference to clairvoyance, and the
still higher development of the same law
which governs the mind in its terrestial in
quiries, and the soul in its celestial commu
nings.
Let us theu examine the various phenom
ena which have thus far been developed,
throwing all mysticism or deception aside
we shall find they are referable to a posi-
tive law, which, although to us but partially
developed, has existed since creation came
perfect from the hands of the Divine Archi-
tect. Let us attempt an explanation. Let
us follow briefly, step by step, the various
manifestations exhibited to our sensuous na
tures, not only on this glorious orb which we
w* through the heavens, where are
set me stars 01 Wmu »o usu
siont and immortal souls as those who live,
and move and have their being here. Let us
take a retrospective glance, and endeavor
to solve the enigma presented for solu
tion. Let us rend the garments of prejudice
and scholastic bigotry to the end that free
and unbiassed, we may boldly enter the por
tals of Nature to her very arcana. Let us
divest ourselves of the depressing theological
dogmas which vain speculators have reared
into a tower more cumbrous and terrible in
its moral aspects than even that juggernau
ts car which but bodily crushes its thou
sands of infatuated victims as a religious
observance. Let us commence then with the
beginning. Let us suppose that ere earth
rose out of chaos; before the fiat of the Al
mighty went forth, ordaining creation—that
space, in all its infinitude, had not a solitary
globe in its depths on which the form of man
stood erect—lot us presume that a subtle
imponderable clement pervaded the immeas
urable—that this element ever waved and
rolled bright and beautiful, and that as it
was moved upon by the Divine will it grad
ually became more perfect and condensed,
until, in the cycle of rolling ages, it assumed
a spherical form, and that as it cooled, the
surrounding atmosphere became purer and
better adapted to vegetable and other organ-
izations, which the earth was destined in
due season to conceive and bring forth.—
Finally, where waved lines of lurid electri
city, rolled a ponderable, consistent globe,
composed of the bright particles which erst
scintillated and glowed in the realms of eter
nity—and this orb prepared, gave forth af
ter the consummation of years unnumbered,
from the vitalizing law implanted into its
very and primary organization, we shall then
conclude that from its rocky beds sprung the
rudimental element* of those herbaceous
kingdoms which new give beauty to the land
scape, lucidity to the atmosphere, perfection
to organization, and a soul to God. By the
same electrical and potent law, out of the
vegetable kingdom arose the animal, and out
of the animal, the coronal and microcosm of
all creation—the rudimental candidate for
eternity—the end of the cause—the fulfil
ment of the law—the use of the purpose—
the developed man —the Son of God, the heir
to eternity.
Eleotrioity was, under tho Divine will, the
parent and actuating cause of the manifold
and beautiful effects which we all see in and
around us. It is, therefore, fair to suppose
that if, previous to creation, tho void was
filled with gross elecsrical elements, and
that from these rolled out the earth, with
all of its perfect creations, exhibiting to
man the glories of it and hit nature—the
parent and vitalizing forces being galvanism
that man’s soul is then of the same element
hut far more subtilized, to that which en
ters largely into and composes his material
organization.
We have presented the above but imper
fectly. Our leading object is to enquire more
particularly into the causes which produce
psyoio and mediatorial conditions. We will
therefore assume that man is physically and
psyoically an electrical organization, h ! ghly,
perfectly and purely developed. The cranium
being filled with an aggregation of the ends
or roots of the nervous system; those nerves
may bo divided into classes, voluntary and
involuntary, or the nerves of sensation and
force. The brain is a battery in which is
generated that vitalizing and highly rarified
and imponderable fluid known, for want of a
better name, as tho electrical or udic ele
ment. This odio fores, under the control of
the soul, enters into and performs the most
secret offices of tho body, and, although it is
not life, it is still an indispensable accessory
to and servant of that, higher organization of
the body, known as tho soul. What is
i.hc highest expression of a positive soul?
Winn, divine, determined, all powerful wmn;
and this wmn acting upon a soul of negative
power, by ethereal and highly rarified
eleotrioity passing directly from the eye of
the operator, produces upon his patient im
pressions which are allied to, if they are not
in and of, the psyoio power,'* The eloquent
» “1 have known (nays Ur. Ashburner in the
bodfleld edition of Keohonbaoh’s Dynamic's,)
at least, fifty persons who have sem a grey sil
very, or a bine light emanating from my band
and fingers, whan they have been wide awake
I UaVB kno.rn si great many p .roans who having
been put into mesmeric sleep h ive denla.td that
they have seen blue light issuing in copious
streams from my eyes, when I have concentrated
my thoughts in the acts of volition or study.
This is so oommon, that as the investigations in
o mesmerism proceed, 1 know there must he
speaker, through this power, sways an audi
ence to and fro lik. the laboring barque in a
rough sea If he so wills, he may move
them to tears or excite them to laughter, by
thoughts sent forth on the wings of electri
city, and which cease not their flight until
they have found a resting place in the
minds of his sympathizing and excited lis
teners. The clergyman calls to repentance
with the same terrible and irresistible law.f
The physician, perhaps totally ignorant of
the power he possesses, acting positively up
on a bed-ridden patient, often raises the in
valid as if by magio, when the potency of
medicine was doubted, and by a wave of the
hand and glance from his eye, rescues the
sick man from the very threshhold .of the
grave. Ignorant of this electrical law,
which, in his extremity, he resorted to, he
attributes the cure to crude causes, totally
insufficient to produce the effect desired when
employed on other sufferers. Is it to be
wondered at then, that a strong positive bat
tery acting through the ulnar, median or
optic nerve, can control a patient far be
neath him in mental resolution, in indomita
ble will ? In order to illustrate the manner
in which these astonishing effects are pro
duced by an accomplished operator, wo ex
tract the following passages from the Elev-.
chology,” and in which the whole mystery,
as exhibited by Williams and others, is
plainly and cnderstandingly treated :
“ Before I proceed to notice the most easy,
sure, and direct mode by which an electro
psychological communication may be estab
lished, I will, in the first place, speak of the
philosophy of communication in general. It
is evident that the positive and negative
forces of the two electricities prevade all
nature. These I call in my seventh Lecture
the male and female electricities. These
two forces not only permeate, more or less,
all substances in nature, but they also un
ceasingly emanate from them in electric cir
cles. Hence, as man is a part of the uni
verse, he constantly takes into his system
large portions of electricity with the air he
inspires, with the water he drinks, and with
the food he eats. And by mental and mus
cular action, and the common operations of
animal life, he unconsciously throws it off
through the nervous force. On passing from
his system into the surrounding elements, it
forms around him his electric or magnetic
circle. How large this circle may be* is as
yet to us unknown Hence, when two in
dividuals come within a certain distance of
each other, their circles meet, and touch
each other at two points. And if one of
these individuals is in the electro-psycholog
ical state, the communication will be taken
through the positive and negative forces.
And though this communication was taken
without personal contact, yet it was done
dividifalism or personal identity. A com
munication in this manner can be established
with those persons only who are very sensi
tive. As only about one in twenty-five is
naturally in this state, so I can step before
an audience of a thousand persons, stale to
them what I intend to do, so that all shall
understand me; then request them all to
close their eyes firmly, and say, You cannot
open youv eyes! and forty out of the thou-
thousands of corroborations Of the fact, instead
of hundreds, as at present. Will any one von
tvro to soy that a force having rebtlon to such
i light is not a material power 1 The light pro
ceeds from the brain of a person willing, and
mpingeson a sleeper sent to sleep by a magnet
-or by a crystal The light is sent forth by the
will of'hat person, and becomes a motive pow
er, for i ho recipient sleeper moves and obeys the
mandats received through the luminous agency.
I have repeatedly performed an experiment under
theta circumstances, and the results have been
as .above stated Bat though lhave often willed
person, awake aa well as alcop-wakers, and even
mognetio andcrystallio-sleepers, to do mv silent
bidding, proving that the light from my brain is
a motive power, 1 regard soma other experiments
on rare subjects to be still more conclusive as to
the material agency of the light which emanates
Tom the human brain I have caused it to
'ravel 72 miles, producing immediate effects. I
havowitnories who can testify that I have re
peatedly willed an Individntl to come to me when
at the distance of nearly two hawwU-
ioroe of the light emanating
fmm my brain by the exertion of the will, to en
able her to sleep at all, when she was at the dis
tance of nearly two miles from mo. HuuilioA
of persons have seen an individual made insensi
ble and, rigid by my imagining a circle round
her. In her delirium, which made her muscles
enormously powerful, she would occasionally
master several persons. My will, impinging its
light upon her, tendered her not only tractable
for a 'imo, but set her fa t, for hears, in a deep
sleep and rigid spasm If 1 imagined a bar on
t'i" eaipet, the could indicate with accuracy the
position and limits of that bar. She desorihedit
is a bar of blue light on the carpet; and if she
were desired to get up and pass over it, she be
came insensible, and fell on the floor like any in
animate object. Sometimes 1 have plaoed this
bar of light across the threshold of a door, and
it has been impossible for her to pass over it
The siciit of the blue bar of light, placed by an
eff.irt of my will, even after many repetitions of
the experiment, made her fall down irueusib'e;
and she has remained ineonsible to aii external
impressions, like a parson dead asleep on tho
door, until 1 have willed the bar to disappear.
Hundreds of persons have seen mo perform this
experiment. On one cooasion I loft the bar for
one hour and a half, and she remained quito_ un
conscious, getting up immediately when I willed
its d sappearanco. Though not a common, this
has not been a solitary case illustrative of such
a striking fact. Charpignon (Etudes Phys. sur
le Magn. Anim Paris, 1843) has proposed phys
ical tests to establish the existence of tho mes
meric Add. One of them consisted in collecting
tho fluid from tho end, of the lingers into a glass
tumbler, and then getting patients to inhale tho
air oollco od in that glass vessel. This put the
individuals to sleep. Several persons have seen
while awake the blue light proo»eding from my
lingers, ami c dlecting in the glass. 1 have di
rected their attention to other objects, so that
they oonld not be aware of my resuming hold of
tho glass 1 had left, and have boon unawares put
to sleep by my pouring the fluid on tho back of
their nocks. Oa several occ «sions lately, 1 have
sat in one room willing tho mesmeric light into
a wide-mouthed phial of a pint ca aoity, and
have taken it iuloanother room, where, pouring
the substance on a patient’s bead, she has in
stantly fallen asleep. Repeated occurrences of
those facts, and, as they are easily reproduced,
we shall have accounts of many of them, will es
tablish the conclusion that a force which it a
material agent, attended by or constituting a
colored light, emanates from the bruin of man,
when he thinks that bis will can direct its im
pingement—and that it is a motive power.
] A. J. Davis, in his Spiritual Intercourse, thus
graphically exhibits the psychological power of
the preacher: “Again, let us, from our homes, go
into the popular revival religious meetings and
further observe there the wopkiugs of this great
psychological principle of sympathy. The cler
gyma-, with “his big, manly voice,” u posi
tively and dogmatically enforcing the doctrine
of his creed: the awfulness of Divine Justice ;
the awfuiness of Divine vengeance ; the awlui
ness of hell j tho tenible awfuiness of hell pun
ishments ; 'he awful magnificence of heaven ;
the awful neoe.sity of salvation ; and the awful
pivotal means upon which the whole scheme
turns; whilst he threatens tho fearful oonce
quenoes of not accepting those moans forthwith
These and similar therms are rep'eseotod by the
speaker, the powerful psychologist, to bis audi
ence, hie generally passive and attentive subjects,
with all the glowing beauty of brilliantlr.nguage
and the sublime i.trorigth of positive tempera
ment. Fascinated by his intellectual power, one
after another draws nearer to the altar. Near
by fit two equally honorable menboth intelli
gent bu' dilf-Tomly constituted. The one listens
and meditates with an almost provoking indif
ference ; tho other is moved to the center of hi
soul —his gesticulations express agony the
preacher has drawn a piotur e of awfal to rrors and
has powerfully daguerrootypsd it upon his mind
ho sees the awfuiness there represented, an
the shadow is to him as a reality. Now 1H
us examine lot i this. The unmoved indmdua
has a cold, resolute, positive, int lleotual organ
ization—he is more positive than the speaker
and laotefoie that speaker can not awa-pn in
him false compunctions cf conscience. Ho can
not convince the honest wranthai i-e is an “an u
sinner.” 13. it this good men’s iqually good and
honest neighbor possesses a fine, impres.ihle
elastic, affectionate organization —he is very
negative to the eloquent preacher, and hen sc
“leols eveiy thing tho minister siys to bo true.
Tho-o very positive speakers ahtays affirm wha
they pronounce ; it gives weight to tuo.r words
and invests th m with a seeming authority
And nh»r. is the consequence of this psvcho.ogi
ea! result 1 It is simply this: that good man
that impr- ssibleand nlfeetionale mind, is thiown
into a fro. zied slate of moral contrition • He has
hitherto been superior to .‘ho uttering of what
was untrue ; but now ho raptu'ouely pronounces
falsehood at-or falsehood. He says—"J in under
divine condemnation,” which is not true. He
-ays-“l'm inwardly denavod; which is not
true He i-ays ‘ I’ve been always a great sin
ner which is not true, for ho waiono auinno
oent child, and of “ auoh in the kiogdi m of heav
en ” Ho sacs—“ God is angry with me;” which
lint true, lor “God is love,” and bitt.r and
rwtel or I 've and ha'e, can not fl,w Pom ore
fountain. He rays—“ God's spirit is striving
with me;” w ich is not true, tor he is simply
psychologized, by the tp akor, lo foe every
t o i t ,g reacting his own state iuvi&ttiU v»itn
awfuiness, aid himself as under tho divine
wiath and coiadoiiination. Atlasi ho csl’fl aloud
_«* 0,1 see the Hoi? Spirit!” which is not true;
his vision i only affected by mental delirium
tremens, aiiair g from tho ©xcotriva irtoxioation
which tno powerful preaching has produced upon
his nervous system. And now, still moved by
the controlling influence In tho assemblage, ho
oxolaime—“O, thank God, 1 am forgiven
which is n> t true, had ho tinned, for no traue
rregions against nature's laws com bo orgiven;
they can oxuy be outgrown by norpooal progres
sion and development. And thus tho highly
honorable ami truth-telling member oi society i«
captivated by the positive sphere of the clergy
man, united with that of those of hi* congrega
te n who think with him, and is thereby “J™® 4 ®
utter many falsi ies ai d contradictions which, 1
trust, no one, at this day of scientific enlighten
ment, will attempt to account for on tho ground
f moral obliquity, or total depravity.
sand will be unable to do so. All this can
be performed in five minutes after entering
the hall.
“ It is, however, certain, that no effect can
be produced till you establish a thorough
communication between yourself and the
subject through the nervous force of the
organ of Individuality that constitutes his
personal identity. And as the centre or
moving ner.ve of the system, and as they
reciprocally affect each other, as you can
establish a psychological communication by
touching any part of the system where vol
untary nerves are located, and particularly
of those individuals who are very sensitive
and impressible. But the most natural mode
to get a good communication, and the one
least liable to be detected by the audience,
is to take the individual by the hand, and in
the same manner as though we were going
to shake hands. Press your thumb with
moderate force upon the ulnar nerve,
which spreads its branches to the ring and
little finger of the hand. The pressure should
be nearly an inch above the knuckle, and in
range of the ring finger Lay the ball of the
thumb flat and partially crosswise, so as
to cover the minute branches of this nerve
of motion and sensation The pressure,
though firm, should not be so great as to
produce pain or the least uneasiness to the
subject. When you first take him by the
hand, request him to place his eyes upon
yours, and keep them fixed, so that he
may see every emotion of the mind expressed
in the countenance. Continue this position
and ala n the nresaiire nnnn thiarjilnfol 71 -
for half a minute or more. Then request
him to close his eyes, and with your fingers
gently brush downward several times over
the eyelids, as though fastening them firmly
together. Throughout the Whole process
feel within yourself a fixed determination to
close them, so as to express that determina
tion fully in your countenance and manner.
Having done this, place your hand on the
top of his head and press your thumb firmly
cn the organ of Individuality, bearing par
tially downward, and with the other thumb
still pressing the ulner nerve, tell him—
you can not open your eyes ! Remember,
that your manner, your expression of coun
tenance, your motions, and your language
must all be of the moat positive character.
If he succeed in opening his eyes, try it once
or twice more, because expressions, wheth g
physical or mental, continue to deepen by
repetition. In case, however, that you can
not close his eyes, nor see any effect pro
duced upon them, you should cease making
any further efforts, because you have now
fairly tested that his mind and body both
stand in a positive relation to yours as it re
gards the doctrine of impressions.
“ There is yet another mode of communica
tion that I have discovered, which is far
preferable to the one just noticed, is supreme
over all others, and will remain so till Om-
nipotence shall see fit to change the nervous
system of man This is the Median Nerve,
which is the second of the brachial plexus.
It is a compound nerve having the power of
both motion and sensation. It is located in
the hand near where it joins the wrist. In
order to take the oommnnioation through
this medium, you must take the subject by
the hand with the palm upward, and place
the ball of your thumb in the centre of his
hand near the root of his thumb, and give a
moderate but firm pressure. The astonish
ing nature of the impression cm only be
equalled by the result produced. It is a
nerve of voluntary motion as well as sensa
tion, and therefore belongs to, and has its
origin in, the cerebrum. True, like the
other nerves, it can be traced directly no
farther than the spinal cord, yet there is no
difficulty in determining its origin to be in
the cerebrum, became that is the organ of
all voluntary motion, even as the cerebel
lum is the organ of all involuntary motion.
This mode of communication transcends all
others, and will answer in all possible cases,
-even upon persons the most difficult to con
trol, as well as upon those who are the most
sensitive and impressible. I care not how
you obtain the communication with an in
dividual- whether it be without contact, or
by touching any part of the body, yet the
communication must ultimately be estab-
lished through the Median Nerve as the
centre telegraphic force from the organ of
Individuality, through which organ all ideas
and all impressions are transmitted from the
external world to the mind, and through
tirit Burnt organ o.«o ironemitted by the Toli
tions of the mind to the different parts of the
body. Even if the communication is taken
bjf poMuro on the ulnar rwrvct j ot it IB
nevertheless communicated by sympathy to
the Median Nerve, and through which
alone the communication tnumoa uerfcct.
There is no question, in my mind, that the
optic , the auditory and the olfactory nerves,
as well as those of taste, are but branches of
the same common nerve by which impres
sions or ideas are transmitted to the mind
through the organ of Individuality. Those
whom I have instructed, will please to re
member this I desire you, and all, in order
to experiment with power, to keep up a per
fect uniformity in taking the communication
through the Median Nerve, and through
this to transmit the electric current to the
brain and electrify the body.”
All effects similar to those produced
through the explanations above given, whe
ther known as Biology, Mental Alchemy, or
Psychology, result from the action of a pos
itive manipulator on the nerves of a negative
patient in the same manner. The odic force,
passing from the brain of the operator
through the optic nerve, as explained by Dr.
Ashburne, has much to do in consummating
the psyoic state. Dr. Dod, in another lec
ture, sets up for hia favorite science preten
sions which will rather tend to throw con
tempt and excite incredulity than advance
the general truths of which ho may justly be
termed the principal discoverer. Enthusi
asts like the lecturer, however, are to be
pardoned for this. The love a father bears
towards his child is stronger than can possi
bly be expected from a stranger —his off
spring presents to his fond mind moral attri
butes superior to those of other men’s. So
with Dr. Dod. He claims for his favorite
science, that it will cure all diseases not or
ganic—that through it the inhabitants of the
earth need not hereafter die from any other
disease than old age—that fevers can be bro
ken, rheumatism removed, sight restored,
the dumb made to speak, and the deaf to
hear ! In a work devoted to an explanation
of his theory, he instances many cures,
which, to say the least, are remarkable, and
probably beyond the physician or the sur
geon’s skill. We ourselves know of persons
who have, almost miraculously, been cured of
lingering diseases through the agency of this
potent science. In our opinion, a general
knowledge of the principles of Psychology
would materially assist the good physician in
his varied callings. Therefore, to the un
prejudiced practitioner we would recommend
a careful perusal of Rev, Dr. Dod’s Electri
cal Psychology, which can be obtained either
at Redficld’s or Fowler & Well’s. Wo would
also earnestly direct attention to Baron
Reichonback’s “Dynamics,” edited by Dr.
Ashburne; to the “ Science of Psychology,”
by Joseph Haddock, M. D.; Dr. Hammond’s
“ Theory of Animal Magnetism,” and the
“ Philosophy of Mesmerismalso to “A. J.
Divio’s Philosophy of Death, Health, Sleep,
etc., etc ,” to be found in the first volume of
liia “Great Harmonia.” To the general
reader, these works are invaluable, not only
for the great learning which from their peru,
sal may be cheaply obtained, but also from
the fact that many of the mysteries, now
apparently unaccountable, are in these vol
umes lucidly explained.
We arc entering upon fields of thought
never before trodden by man, and which
perhaps will speedily bring us into commun
ion with those who now inhabit the Spirit
Land. A general knowledge of the princi
ples which involve the astonishing develop
ments of the present day, aro in these vol
umes minutely and briefly discussed.
We have now arrived at the cause which
which produces the various psyoologioal
phenomena, and which charlatans here
and elsewhere, have exhibited to gap
ing multitudes, and who, not knowing the
key which opens the portals to the human
mind, conveniently dismiss the whole sub
ject by declaring these matters arrant im
postures. In reality there is nothing, when
we come to understand this matter thorough
ly, which can do other than excite the ad
miration of men for the knowledge impart
ed, and which the Father of love, truth and
wisdom has seen lit to bestow on his earthly
children. A portion of his infinite power,
is given us, but in a finite degree. Let us
thoroughly understand this matter, and ask
how it is possible that one man can have over
another, power to control his physical and
psyoieal constitutions ? and answer that it is
produced directly through the agency of
that subtle fluid which pervades all space—
electricity. By pressing positively a nega-
PRICE THREE CENTS,
tive system of nerves, the operator may
produce the biological state ; by establishing
through the eyes positive communication
over a negative brain, produce the psyoo
logioal condition ; by the effort of will he
may then induce such impressibility in the
negative mind, as to prepare it for instanta
neous and astonishing cures. We admit that
this system should only be practised by ele
vated, enlightened and refined men. None
should be permitted to approach a subject
practising this art, unless he possesses the
entire confidence of the patient, tftid who is
known to be a gentleman well read, and of
honorable intentions. Quacks, particularly
should be avoided They may, and often
do, produce diseases which neither psyoolo
gy nor the whole range of materia meditia
can remove.
Having thus explained this matter, we
will now endeavor to relate briefly, the mys
teries appertaining to mesmerism and clair
voyance. Considering then, that we have
thus far ascended the first, second and third
steps of modern mysteries, we shall now at
tempt the fourth and-fifth, and endeavor to
satisfactorily elucidate the grand mysteries
of spiritualism. Mesmerism, according to
the Rev. Dr. Dod, may properly be called
spiritualism: apd clairvoyance, aonordinv to
TJsvis, is explained as soul-seeing, or an in
dependent condition, which bestows on the
thinking organization the power to pene
trate by electrical rays of light, to the most
distant objects, and which are instantly im
pressed upon the spiritual brain, and enun
ciated to the astonished auditors with a oe-
lerity, centainty and confidence, which
without further investigation, tends to re
move much of the scepticism previously en
tertained.
The mesmeric sleep is induced by mani
pulation, Its end is to paralyze any given
member of the body, or bring on a state of
coma, or lethargy, in the patient, so that the
most difficult surgical operations may be
performed without his experiencing pain or
inconvenience. In order to arrive conclu
sively at this point, the same formula which
induces the spasmodic or psyoologioal con
dition, ought to be observed.
Dr. Dod, in his course of lectures on the
“Philosophy of Mesmerism,” —delivered at
the Marlboro’ Chapel, Boston, cites several
very remarkable cases which came under his
own observation, and which, are so astound
ing as to induce even jn the minds of those
acquainted with spirituality, scepticism.
Mesmerism has undoubtedly been practised
for ages. It was familiar to the Egyptian
piIVOtUVVU) II V “» V j ~ H-V-
that it was practised in the Eleusian and
Orphic mysteries, and was probably gene-
rally understood by the Hebrew writers.
Indeed, this fact is more than hinted at in
the sacred volume. The strange tale of the
Witch of Endor summoning to the vision of
the seeking Saul the terrible and menacing
Samuel, may thus be satisfactorily accounted
for. This to us mysterious science, is very
generally practised by the Chinese, particu
larly by the barbers of that ancient Empire .
We have on the authority of Dr, Haddock, a
recapitulation of the history of Anton Mes-
tner, who was born in 1734, at Mersburg, on
the shores of the Lake of Constance, and
who in 1776 took the degree of Doctor ot
Medicine in the University of Vienna. From
a very early age, Mesmer’s mind was direct
ed to the investigation of physiological phe
nomena Finally ho attempted, as the result
of his Inquiries, to cure diseases —first by
the use of the magnet , and afterward through
manipulations. In 1778, he commenced his
peculiar practice in Paris, and so successful
was be that he speedily acquired great pop-
ularity in France, from the astonishing
cures he effected in those who, previously.
were pronounced, by the most eminent med-
leal gentlemen, lucuraDle, or neyond tne
reach of medicine. The French government
offered him a large annual income if he
jvaiiM Kia mu nipiimow a man -
ily refused the generous offer, and finally re-
tired to his native village—on being present-
ed by his pupils with a sum of over fifty
thousand dollars where he died in hie
eighty -eighth year. A commission appointed
by the government, reported that his aston
ishing cures were simply caused by or
through the imaginatian or fancy of his pa
tients. The great end of Mesmer’s proceed
ings appears therefore, to have been use—
the application of a remedy for human suf
fering. As we shall have occasion to allude
to mesmerism again, in connection with inner
or spiritual sight, wo shall at once proceed
to consider the Clairvoyant state. The first
positive knowledge we are in possession of,
of this remarkable property of the human
soul, is given to us through the experiments
of the Marquis do Puysegur, a French noble
man, one of Mesmer’s disciples, in the year
1784. In inducing this extatio state, manip
ulations are necessary, besides supremo con
fidence on the part of the operator in his pos
itive control of the nerves. It is the waking
condition of the mesmeric state that may be
termed Clairvoyance, and as such it is closely
allied to the lessor developments treated of
by us in preceding remarks. Dr. Haddock,
in his “ Science of the Soul,” intimates that
the great difficulty hitherto experienced in
arriving at a knowlege of the real cause ol
clairvoyance, has arisen from two causes;
first, the different states of the clairvoyant
subject and the observer, and the impossi
bility of their having the same sensational
perceptions —so that the observer oannoi
sensationally perceive how the clairvoyant
I sees, nor can the clairvoyant adequately de
scribe his perceptions And, secondly, ths
necessity for the opening of a higher degree
of ■ consciousness in order fully to compre
hend the lower. For instance, an animal oar
have no proper idea of its own nature; bu
man is enabled by the possession of an inter
ual spiritual principle, rationally and sense
tionally to investigate his animal body
And the mere induction of the faculty o
clairvoyance does not enable the possessor o
that faculty sensationally to perceive th
cause of that phenomenon; this requires th
awakening of a higher consciousness, thoug
still probably belonging to the psyche, o
animal part of the spiritual organism. Bu
in this respect he has an advantage ove
most in possessing a subject, wh
in addition to tho ordinary induced mesmeri
extasis or trance, has repeatedly been i
states of spontaneous extasis of a far highe
and more interior character, and the reallt
of those states has been proved to him by th
most convincing evidence. One strikin
difference between these two states is, tha
whatever occurs to, or is seen by, the ord
nary mesmeric extatio, is completely forgo
ten, or, more correctly, is altogether ur
known upon the return to the normal stat
while tho true extatio, or subject of tl
Superior state , as Davis, the Amitric,
clairvoyant, styles it, upon returning to tl
normal condition, recollects all that has bc<
manifested to him in the abnormal conditio
This singular fact receives an easy solutio
if we admit the psychological doctrine, th
man possesses both an internal aud exlei n
memory In tho normal wakeful condilii
these memories act as a one, and hence
are only conscious of oue memory. In t
abnormal state of induced mesmerism, t
internal memory is active while tho extern
is dormant; and from this want of conne
tion between the two memories, arises t
I oblivion invariably witnessed. Eat in t
superior stale, or true spiritual extasis, bo
memories are active, but from a more in
rior degree than in ordinary life; and her
the extatio subject can recollect in the n
mal state what has transpired in the spon
neous abnormal state, and, at the same tin
possesses a full consciousness of the gr
difference between these states, t eo as not
confound the perceptions and knowledges
one with those of the other.
Several remarkable instances of the devel
opment of the inner sight are recorded in the
books, and there arc persons around us who
are peculiarly favored Vfith this faculty.
The most eminent living Clairvoyant of -which
we have knowledge is Davis. So superiorly
developed is this man, that he claims to be
mors or less constantly in connection with

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