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Sunday dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1845-1854, April 09, 1854, Image 1

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In this Department ire dgsiga to elate fasts and give usnfnl tafwinatlon
only -net t» maza H an ergsa cf cpinlca. Tc d« this prnpnrly, re
quires ccnaiderahlc tt«« and inbcr. We trait, therefere, that ear read
ers will not send as questionswhiah their own jadgseat meet t»M them
we cannot answer.
Greece.—A writer on atmospheric phenom
ena thinks that the principal canse of wind may be ascribed to
. t the unequal and yr. luble distribution of heat through tho atmo
"Sphere, the temperature of whi;h is mainly determined by that
oMba surface of the earth. “The distribution o:’heat,” ho
thinks, “is, at the surface determined by the manner in which
it is received from the sun, and radiated from the earth to the
celestial gpases. I' we consider tho whole earth, or the sta!e of
any given portion of it through a long series of time, the quan
tity of heat received from ths sun and the quantity lost by radi
ation exactly bs.r.nce 6fl- h <4ber, aad the mean temperature re
mains an, invariable quantity. But, on considering any partic
ular portforf of the earth, it is easy to see that though a balance
is effected in the long run between tho heat received and parted
with,'.he two quantities flrs never precisely equal at the sama
time, or only so for very short intervals, the one alternately ex
seeding and falling short of ’he other. The radiation goes on
continually, though net uniformly; but the supply of heat from
the sun, on a given surface, is interrupted entirely while the sun
is be’ow the horizon, and daring the day varies with the sun’s
altitude. It varies also at the different seasons of the year, in
consequence of the unequal length of tho days and nights, an 1
the greater or less obliquity with which the rays strike against
the surface.”lf the United States government pay taxes
on the public lands,” to whom does it pay them? There aro an
nuities bestowed upon certain families and tribes of Indians by
■whom the lands were originally held, until conveyed to the Uni
ted States by treaty; and, in eonslderation of which the govern
ment pays over certain sums annually as the price of the lands
so conveyed Mortar cannot very well be made without
quick lime.
George.—AYe have no recollection of any
such movement as a Jackson Monument at Washington, as the
one alluded to in your note. Ths subscription part of the busi
ness looks very mack as if it were a swindle.... .We have no
doubt that hammered iron ean be fused, without the introduction
of foreign substances, under intense heat. Provided the heat be
of sufficient intensity, the liquefaction of malleable iron is not
insuperable. The mere change which it undergoes in hammer
ing does not prevent that whiuh has been molten once from be
coming so again, if the conditions under which the first was
performed is exhibited in the aooond process. Steel made of the
purest malleable iron is much more brittle and fusible than be
fore it undergoes ‘he process of refining and hardening. The
introduction of foreign elements in the fusing of raw or worked
Iron is intended to facilitate, not to create liquefaction; and
■when once the dross is removed re-fusing may be repeated with
much greater ease, and at less expense that when a reduction of
the raw ore js attemptedWe did not miaunderitand our
S correspondent. The question, in his first note, bd directly to
ihe answer which we gave him Slavery is not abolished in
the District of Co’umbia. The • selling of slaveskat public auc
tion in the District has been discontinuedTnelathmis
-railroad is completed to within fifteen miles of Panama
E. J. Smith’s grindstone question has been solved.... “George”
writes : “ I would like some one to give me a rule to lay off a
given quantity of acres upon a piece of land; the whole piece
being in the form of a trapezoid; the piece to be laid off co be
parallel to the aides of the trapezoid.”
Dahiel Di witt.—The postage on this pa
per, if paid quar erly or yearly in advance, is one half cent for
each numberEich newspaper, periodical, unsealed circu
lar, or other article cf printed matter,'not exceeding threo
ounces in weight, can be sent through the Poat Office to
every part of the United States for one cent, and one cent i?
r cha*get! ;br every additional cuuco or fraction of an ounce. If
. the postage on any periodical or newspaper is paid quarterly or
yearly in advance, at the office where tho same is either mailed
or delivered, thm half the above rates are charged. Newspapers
and periodicals not weighing over one and a half ounces, cir
culated in the State where published, are likewise charged but
•half of theabovj rates.
Inquiro.—The common red wafer is com
psunded of red lead, flour, isinglass and a small quantity ef
yeast Sealing wax is composed of shellac and rosin melted
together, and colored ied, blaek, or green.. T . .Continued per
spiration of the head is quite unusual; but If the child is healthy,
no danger need be apprehended. If, ho wever, h e exhibits symp
toms of weakness, then we would advise frequent bathing of the
' spinal column with moderately cold water. The spine is prob
ably in a feverish or excited condition, causing, as a conse
u nee constant exudat'ons through the pores of the skin.
Aena of Brooklyn.—“ Salas rooms” is
quite as syntatical as “salesmen;” or as “sales room,” and
“salesman.” The phrase “sales rooms” is not musical; and on
that account objectionable. But as nouns are p’ural as weil as
singular, a mode must be employed by which we can indicate
4he one from the other. The adverb certainly doos not, nor can
not be made, in this case, the interpreter of the quality of its
noun: therefore, unless we employ other words to convey the
meanirg embodied in the inharmonious phrase, we cannot better
its bj ntax.
• America.—This correspondent desires us to
say “that E. Z. C, Judson is not the founder of the Order of
Know Nothings in this city.” Mr. Jadson may not be the
founder of the Order “in this city;” we have been informed,
however, that he is not only the founder of the Order at large,
but is its present chief and leader. If this, also, is a mistake,
then quite a number of very respectable people here and else'
. where have been led into error.
Homer.—Franklin Pierce, President of the
United States is a lawyer by professionOf his Cabinet, W.
L.-Marcy, Secretary of State; James Guthrie, Secretary of the
Treasury; James C. Dobbin, Secretary of the Navy; Jas. Camp,
bell, Postmaster General; are lawyers by profession. Jefferson
Davis, Secretary of War, is a planter, and the only one of thi
j resent Cabinet who is not attached to the legal profession. Ho
jf t was educated at West Point.
[ King.—The strain of the horse “that was
K xoited to death on the Centreville Course, L. 1.,” is unknown
io the turf. Possibly, his owner was not acquainted with his
i tdigreeThe poor animal performed the extraordinary feat
trotting one hundred miles inside of nine hours; an effort
Mhbat hai not Its parallel on record, and whfoh we '.rust will never
IF:gain be attempted.... .We refer you to an answer in our last
: s to where, in this city, Sharp’s rifle may be purchased.
Leo—Asks the insertion of the following
problem : “ The three sides of a right-angle triangle are 30, 40
»nd 50 : Required the diameter <.f its inscribed circle : Required
the length of a right line drawn from the right angle to its op
posite side and passing through the centre of the circle; also
required the area of the thrse pieces of the triangle not con
tained within the circle.”
A Subscriber.—The area of England and
Walei is equal to 55,100 square miles. Deducting the princi
| pality of Wales, which contains 7,426 miles, England proper
* aas an area of 47,674 square miles. New York coutains 46,220
square miles; or a territory less by 1,434 square miles than
England. “ Subscriber” has won the wager, bus by a very close
shave. •
Anne of Ballston;—Quicklime and sul
jburet of arsenic are noi calculated, if frequently applied to the
cuticle, to improve it. Depilatories cannot,from the very nature
of the ingredients required to be employed, be rendered alto •
L gether innoxious ; but if care is taken, they may be rendered
* comparatively harmless.
P. H. G.—As wa ara unacquainted with
ihe circulations of the dally papers of Boston, Philadelphia and
Baltimore, we cannot say which journal in each of those cities
‘‘would be the best to advertise in.” If P. H. G. will Gallon
V. B. Palmer, the Advertising Agent, Tribune Buttings, the
• information desired by him may be obtained.
A Philadelphian.—We have no meana of
ascertaining the number cf dwellings in Philadelphia, but our
impression is » k ‘* t it can*' o * wklw hnnaaa with xr.*—
.... .Third street, Philadelphia, is not longer than Broadway,
o ... .The Philadelphia Ledger has the largest circulation of
any daily paper published in the United States.
■ Asmodbus.—“On a question before an as
| aembly, and the chairman votes, by thus voting creating a tie,
r can he then give a casting vote?” Certainly not. Tho effect of
such a rule would be to take the question out of the jarisdict on
of the assembly, and make it the subject of arbitrary disposal
| by the president.
| Junius.—The story is too long to insert
' here, “as to the when, where and what occasioned Francis S.
■ Key’s writing the tong called the “ ‘ Star Spangled Banner? ”
K Possibly, some time, when we are more at leisure, and not
K pressed for room, wa will gratify Junius by relating the anec •
<fote to which he alludes.
B. L. B.—Not having superior figures in
i the office, we are compered to give the simple result of your
k , solution of Homer’s “broken tree” question. B. L B.’s answer
■ * 1«, that he finds (taking re as equal to the stamp which remains.!
standing) x 39 3 feet nearly. ... .It is too late to insert B. L.
B.’s solution of the “grindjtone” question.
Bbown.—Tour year expiring on the 25th
Inst., it is not required of the owner or his agent to give yoa
r»ny t'me notice to quit. You cannot remain longer in the
loose than the time ag.-sed upon, unless you have the consent
of the landlord or his agents, If you decline removing on the
expiration of the lease, you can be constrained to leave.
Erratum.—“ Navigator’s rule for finding
the solidity of four-sided timber, the ends being unequal, should
read : To the areas of the two ends add the product of the sum
cf the lengths of the ends multiplied by the sum of the breadths;
and this sum multiplied by one sixth the length of the stick
gives the solidity.”
O. ft—Broadway, from the Battery to
r Union Place, has a distance of miles: the whole length of
Broadway, to Its junction with Fiftieth street, is about 4X mile .
«... .The island of New York Is about 13% miles in length, with
an average breadth of one mile and three quarters.
Discussion.— The Academy at West Point
. is exclusively devoted tj the preparation and education of those
intending the army as their profession. It is not in any manner
connected with thenavyThe Naval Sahool is at Annapolis,
Maryland.
E. W.—Probably the cheapest and most
' expeditious route from this city to Nashvillo, Tennessee, would
| be for you to preceed to Savannah, Ga., and from thence by rail-
I road to Nashville The distance from Charleston to Nash"
I Ville is 583 miles.
I Caroline.—Property cannot be conveyed
I the knowledge or consent of the guardians of children;
I ijpnless such conveyance is ordered by a court competent to au-
L its sale; and then only under certain circumstances.
E. L.—There is, legally, no such title in the
United States Navy as Commodore. The highest grade is that
I of captain. The title of Commodore is recognised only as
One of courtesy.
Nortonville.—We cannot give a list of
those who were fortuna’e la drawing prizes in the Perham Gift
Enterprise Year ticket has, probably, drawn a shilling
print.
M. W. H.—Unless you can interest some
capitalist in your invenlidn, we know not how you are to pro
ceed in completing it without money Manuscripts of new
•works are generally submitted to publishers.
Old Sub.—The Liquor Law now in force in
Maine, we believe, does not prohibit druggists from selling alco
\ holic beverages, if prescribed by physicians for the use of their
I patients.
, Sub. Post—Of the thre§ kinds of terrier
dog we think the Scotch tba best ratterNo license is re
nuired, ia order to establish a sub post officeThe sub post
51 office in Chatham Sinara is tho oldest in the city.
Radical.—Passage from this city to Liver
, t»t>l in the steamer, is JI2SJ ia the first cabin; from Boston, SIOO.
first class packet ships, passage in the chief cabin, may be
jM secured for 575.
V Lewis Shinn.—lf the theological discassion
V now going on at the Tabernacle, between Dr. Sawyer and tiev.
B Mr. Westcott should bepibllshed in book form, we shall en-/
to give you notice in time for you to secure a copy.
■ Francis.—lf this correspondent will take
the trouble to look at page 196 of the ‘’Manaal of the Common
■ Council for 1853,” he can ascertain, all he desires to know in re
-8 gard to the Free Academy.
L T. B.—The “Old Alms-house” was formerly
in the building—subsequently known as the New City Hall—
f facing on Chambers street, in the Park,'and which was materi-
M ally injured by fire some two months since.
\ Rustic.—Give your money to the poor, if
/ you cannot find a better use for/ It. Purchasing tickets in lot-
e terpiises cf any sort, matter what are the induce
hel<out, don’t pay.
K Navigator to Homo.—“l have detected an
error in my calculation r,7 ycur problem of the broken tree. The
height of the stump L& 39.358 pliu feet.”
V Union Sqk4 ek .—Advertise, for your friend,
■t .... Tho Interttrence of otba.s is not at all times very satis-
factory. f
■ CLARF&- DON ._F Or information desired,
to Csl-.on’s Gazetteer of the United
»plates leS 3.
E. H.—The “object” of the “ Know
I'. to keep a-l-.r-tcd cltlacns a--d R-,m«a G-lgliu oat
T. D. G.—The amount is equal to £SBO.
Almost eny tanker in Wall street will give you a check on th .•
Bank of England, for the sum, in exchange.
i Thomas Stutterer.—We know nothing of
I *he meliclne you mention, or of its virtues. It may or may no
■ tea “humbug.”
L Cooper.—Apprentices <re not required to
R gve “bonds at the Novelty Works;” and, “enough is paid each
for bin l*bor, to comfortably board and clothe him.”
hk Subscriber.—“Alccck’s Engineer’s Pocket
Book for the year 1830 ” if in print, will moat likely be found
R at Appleton & Co.’s, 346 and 348 Broadway.
■k R. T. Prejudice of color we presume is
principal rewsn why “uegroes aro not parmltled to ride in
stages and cars of this city?’
Windsor. According to size of bore, the
V Marrton rlil. thl rt y. t , Oi MTeaty> haalied
■ and one hund/ed and thirty balls to the pound.
lb ß duty on clocks imported
■ from tbs United States into British North America 1, ten nor
j cent, ad valorem. F
L. O. Leath.—“ The Lawyer’s Story” was
Jnbiabed In book form some time since. A copy, in paper can
M be had by writing to this office for 50 cents; bound, 75 c t ß ’
Parson Washburn.—Cannot vouch for the
H "responsibility of the parties.”
Gambleb.—ln the game of “AU Fours” the
highest card takes precedence of the lowest, in the count.
V J: Bennett.—We have not the solution of
tte “Two Towers.” It has been mlsla’d.
Chas. G- Morris.— Mr. Partridge, of 300
■ rtoadway, w ui give you the Information daaired,* .esume.
k / X t\ v\ ■ ■
(c 7,/ 'XJRk « bi
LiluO BaWHIMMh gL I LoJ i
VOL. 9. NO. 20.
R. J. Choate.—We have no recollection of
the gam* alluded to in your note.
B. C.—We cannot say whether it is a real
ity or phantasm.
Wm. H.—There is no just reason why you
should not enlist in the navy, or army, if you desire to do so.
of Crime.
TSE CAmgsSTOBY.
AN EXCITING NARBATIVE.
BY THE AUTHOR OK THS “ PIRATE DOCTOR,” &O.', &O.
“ Dead men and droumat women tell no totes.”
***. Copyright secured by the Author, in the U. S.
Court—Southern District of T\ew York,in conform
ity with the Act of Congress.
CHAPTER XII.
situated on the confines of Jersey City, of very mod
erate pretensions, although the tastefully trimmed gar
den, and the arrangement of everything connected
with the household, exterior end interior, w-ks’.t to
te tile abode ci ape sbh whoso mesnsr ate Jo fcaat scii'-
ficient to maintain an appearance of respectability,
and even to make some faint efforts towards elegance
and luxury, are seated a lady—a little past the middle
age—and a youth .of some fifteen or sixteen years.
The countenance of the lady is care-worn and her
features wear an expression of melancholy and of suf
fering; but, evidently, suffering of the mind rather than
of the body ; for she betrays no symptoms ot ill health,
save the larger which the fretting of a “mind dis
eased” has imputed to her frame.
The youth is attired in the uniform ofa midshipman
cf the United States navy—and notwithstanding the
regret at the idea ef parting from his home, which all
bis bright hopes and anticipations cannot entirely
banish, he evidently looks with pride upon his gay
attire, and eels within his heart the buoyancy of spirit
which all boys feel when first about to go forth into
the world and fight the battle of life. A'twinge of
conscience may now and then arise and remind hint
that he is wrong in feeling thus elated, when she who
watched over his infancy and childhood is so sorrowful
at the thoughts of the parting that is about to take
place; but the remonstrance of the monitor, con
science, is forgotten as soon as listened to, and bright
visions of the future banish all regretful reflections as
soon as formed ; all is couteur de ose to the boy’s men
tal vision, and unheard of fame and glory await him
in the gallant profession into which he is about to enter.
The lady and the youth are Mrs. Miller and her son
Thomas—the latter of whom the reader will recollect
we have heretoforealluded to, as studying for the naval
profession.
“Areal! my traps packed, mother?” asks the lad.
“ Bridget must have everything ready to-night; be
cause you know I leave for Norfolk, the first thing in
the morning,{and tclnigbt I must go over to New York
and see Uncle Mordant.”
‘•Everything is ready, my dear,” replies the widow.
“I have packed everything with my own hands.. Your
uncle has been very kind, and has provided you with
a complete outfit, and I have added everything I can
think of that can possibly tend to your comfort. I have
arranged your clothing properly, and locked up your
trunks, and here (handing the youth a bunch of keys)
here are the keys. Take care cf them, Tom; and now,
my boy, there is one thing I have kept out. It is the
last thing your mother presents you with—l give you
this pocket Bible, Tom, and beg you will read it when
ever you have an opportunity. I. do not say everyday,
my boy. I know were you to promise me that, now,
in good faith, the promise would be broken—perhaps
often necessarily broken—and I do not wish to bind
you to promises that are difficult to keep: but read it
now and then, as often as you can, and when you read
it think of her who gave it you, and who would wish
you to consider it as her parting and most precious
gift. Open the title page, ray dear, I have written a
verse there—four simple lines only—but I trust when
ycur eye lights upon them, however far away you may
be, you will think of the writer —for, Tom, I much fear
you are my only earthly solace now,” (and a tear be-,
dewed the widow’s eye, and she sighed deeply, as her
thoughts reverted to the mepiory of her lost daugh
ter.)
The tey opened the book, and glanced over the fol
lowing lines:
“Bemeiuber her who gave you,this,
When other days shall come;
When she who had your earliest kiss
Sleeps in her narrow tomb.”
“I will, dear mother, I will,” said the boy, and spring
ing from his seat, he threw his arm around his mother’s
neck, and kissed her cheek. The embrace was return
ed, end the youth resumed:
“But, mother, I hope it will be a long, long time be
fore the event mentioned in the last line comes to pass,
you are not an old woman, mother, and I hope to be a
captain, and have a ship cf my own to command be
fore you die; and then, mother, we do not know that
poor Jane is dead. She may return, and you will be
happy again.”
“Ah, no, Tom, I fear she will never return. Even if
she lives, perhaps, it were better she did not—and yet
—what am I saying? Better she did not! no, no,
poor child— w<re she steeped in,shame—if all tke
world should forsake her, she should find a mother’s
home to shelter her—a mother’s heart to receive her;
yes, and without a word of reoroach.”
TLX widow wipes atraj tbetl'llrs Wil fell hn>» gustreU
to her eyes, and after a few moment’s silence, during
which st e endeavored to compose her agitated feelings,
she said, addressing her son:
. “Tom, yon had better go over to New York as soon
as possible, dear, because I should like you to be home
early. Your last evening at borne, for a long time at
any rate, must be spent with your mother, my boy.”
“It’s now half-past three,” said the boy, looking at
his new gold watch, a present from his.unde. “Uncle
Mordant goes home from the city at four. So I shall
just be in time to meet him at Place. I shall be
back by eight o’clock, mother.”
“Do, my boy; don’t be later,” replied the widow,
and the lad slipped on his overcoat, placed his cap oa
his bead, and started off in the direction of the Jersey
City ferry, and Mrs. Miller, in order to occupy her mind
till his return, set to work thinking whether there was
anything in her power to provide, that she had not
alieady provided, which would add to her son’s com
fort or pleasure during bis voyage.
In the course, of an hour, Thomas Miller had
reached his uncle's mansion ; tho merchant had not
returned from the city, but he was expected every mo
ment, and the youth was asked into toe- parlor where
bis aunt Mordant and his cousins were seated. Tom
was a fine handsome lad, and was rather a favorite
with bis cousins,; he had always been so, although
they disliked his sister. The reason, however, was evi
dent, Jane was a mnch finer-looking and handsomer
girl than either Mary or Sarah Mordant, and the very
cause which led the young ladies to envy and dislike
her, led them to admire the youth. He was some years
younger than they were, and he had always been
fondled and petted by them. He was complimented
upon his appearance hr bis uniform, and each of the
young ladies and their mother likewise, presented him
with a valuable gift byway of a souvenir. Before he
had been seated many minutes, Mr. Mordant arrived
ht me and cordially welcomed his nephew, whom, as
we bavfe said, he had fitted out at his own expense—
perhaps, as a set-off against his short comings, as re
garded the other members cf the Miller family. Who
shall say ? At all events, the merchant shook the boy
heartily by the hand, and said :
“ Why, I declare, Tem 1 you look quite bravely in
your uniform. I hope I shall live to see you a commo
dore, boy. Pity now, there is’nt some trouble with
Uncle Sam, somewhere or other, so that you might
have an opportunity to distinguish yourself—is’nt it ?
However, you’il get on well enough, I warrant. I
know Captain P. ,of the U. S. ship G— , inti
mately, and I have written to him concerning you.
You will have a good berth on board, my boy, I have
no doubt, and I hope you will succeed in your profes
sion, and become not only a comfort to your mother,
but an honor to the family : come, Mary, my love,”
turning to his daughter, “ is dinner ready ? you’il dine
with us to-day, Tom?” he added, again addressing the
lad.
“I should like to get home again as soon as possi
ble,” replied Tom, “ my mother expressly desires me
to spend my last evening ashore, with her.”
“ And so you shall—so you shall—you shall go home
as scon as dinner is over: come, offer your arm to your
cousin Mary,” and the merchant and his wife led" the
way into the dining-room.
“ Fill your glass, Tom—which will you have, Sherry
or Madeira,?” said Mr. Mordant, pushing the decanters
towards his nephew : “ I wish you happiness, health,
and success,’' and he emptied his own glass,
adding—“ and now, my boy, you can drink the toast
to j ourself.”
“ By-ibe-by, Uncle,” said Tom, “ your letter did not
mention tbe destination of the sloop-of-war. Id you
know yourself, I should like to know whithoT I am
bound.”
To Pernambuco, I believe, Tom; and if I recollect
aright,the G will relieve some vessel nowonthat
station, and will then wait for orders from the com
modore cn the station.”
“ I did make some ehqufiios,” replied the lad; “ but
no one sepined to know arching about it; still I saw a
paragraph in the pape.7 saying that a U. S. ship was
going to be despatched to the coast of Africa—l sup
pose to look after the slave trade. Now, you were
saying that j* was a'pity there was no chance of a dust
with any body just now. It strikes me that the coast
offers toe best chance. Suppose by good luck I should
go there, and we should capture some slave ships; you
know that would be something in the way of practice;
at all events, there seems nothing else likely to turnup
! in the way of fighting just now ; unless, indeed, we
were to get into a row with Spain about the Island
of Cuba.”
“Yon may, perhaps, be ordered to the coast of Afri- •
ca, Tone; but 1 think not. And, for my part,if Iwere
you, I would care little absut going there; though, of
course, you must go, if you are ordered. It always
seems to me poor, pitiful work, that hunting after sla
vers—a sort of spy system, beneath the dignity of the
national service.”
sir?” continued the lad; “ I always believed you to be
an abolitionist.”
“ And so I am, Tom; bat I think this hunting np the
slave ships on the coast of Africa is fraught with mis
ery and death to the negroes. While a market can be
found for the sale of negroes, and while the sale con
tinues as profitable as it is now, there will be found
persons bold enough to venture into the trade. If the '
trade were legal, as it once was, and could be carried
on openly, more care would be taken of the slaves im
ported from Africa; end more roomy vessels provided
ibr them, ten times over, than are now provided for emi
grants who cross the Atlantic from Europe. As it is
they are crowded into small, fleet vessels, crampedfor
room and for air, and they die off in great numbe-s
Tbe government of England, and that of America, too,
are answerable for this evil; for whereas, negroes would
fall in value were the trade open and any quantity
easily imported, now the individual price of the survi
ving negroes is enhanced in the market, according to
the mortality that has prevailed amongst them, daring
their passage across the ocean. The dealers still make
money, while the government compels them to-make
it at the expense of the blood of the negroes.”
Mr. Mordant had got quite excited while speaking,
and Tom smilingly remarked—
“ Why, sir, if they were to hear you speak thus in
an abolitionist meeting, they would think you bad
changed your sentiments and gone bodily over to the
other tide.”
“ I do get a little excited when I think of the mise
ries the poor negroes suffer, through the ill advised en
deavors to curb the traffic in slaves; still, I am an abo
litionist for all that—only, I would leave the evil of
slavery to work its own reformation.”
„By ft cas y for any number to be import
togbing W Wlthoat restraint or difficulty,” said Tom,
It is a matter that you do not understand, and
which I cannot property explain,” said Mr. Mordant,
testily, and Tom, fearing to ofiend his uncle, changel
the subject of conversation. vuaugea
Dinner over, Tom prepared to go home Hn
farewell to his aunt and cousins, shook his unde’s
hand, and received from bim a goodly roll of bank
notes, as a parting present, and hastened to return tn
his mother’s cottage in Jersey City. ™ to
Tbe evening was spent by the mother and son to
gether in earnest conversation, and it was far into the
night when they retired. In the morning, at an earlv
hour, Tom arose ; the widow was already up—for she
had not undressed herself, but bad lain down on the
couch in her bed-room. Soon the carriage was at the
door, and the luggage placed within it—there were
more kisses, reiterated promises—still more last words
—the driver smacked his whip—tbe carriage rolled
rapidly away towards the railroad station—and the wid
ow Miller, still gazing upon tbe departing vehicle, was
J oft None. A sharp pang shot through her heart; she
felt she wax now indeed solitary, in one sense, childless;
for one child had gone she knew not whither—she feared
down into the grave—while the other would be sepa
rated from her, perhaps for ysasa.
CHAPTER XIII.
“O’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundlsss, and our souls as free.”
Merrily onward, with a top-gallant breeze bearing
her rapidly over the yielding waters, and a sky above
clear and serene as that which canopies the soil of
Italy, sped the Albatross, on her way towards her des
tined port in the Brazils. Merrily onward, to out
ward steming—the gallant bark, a thing of light, al
most of life. Cheerily across the billowy ocean, borne
by tbe breeze, is heard—long after the sun has sunk
beneath the western horizon—the song of tbe mart
nets, as they sit on the forecastle, mingling their
rough voices in a rude? but—heard under these cir
cumstances—a' not unmusical sea ditto—the dulcet
tones cf the violin and tbe flute, not touched by the
hands of artists, nor giving forth melody such as
would please the ears of musical connoisseurs—add
depth and' richness to the vocal strains, for the rip
pling waters, parted by the swift keel of the vessel,
unite in tbe chorus, and the dying cadence melts
slowly, faintly away in tbe gentle breeze. Merrily on
ward, to outward seeming, for a successful voyage
has been all but accomplished, the dangers that
threaten all illegal.puranits are passed, and a rich har
vest in silver and gold—the price of human flesh and
blood awaits tjie adventurers—merrily ou, to outward
seeming 1 but what a world of woe, of anguish unut
terable, is hidden in the dark hold of that gallant
bark.
Bude , and savage—perhaps are the natures of its
dusky occupants—stolid and sullen their tempers—
uncultivated and ignorant—inferior to the rest of the
human race, perchance, are the minds of the poor
wretches who are imprisoned there; penned up like
- cattle jn the market place, but dented the free
j of v.sr, that the beasts of the field are permitted to
! breathe; even there; their numbers at first rapidly,
then more slowly thinned by death, the dead bodies
ying for hours tossed to and fro amongst the living
by the heaving of the vessels, as she dances, seem
iugly so ligntly and buoyantly over the billows, and
dragged up and consigned to the deep, each morn
ing like so much carrion, without a prayer being read
over them—without a thought of compassion for their
/ate— nay amidst the coarse, lewd jokes of the crew.
Rude, ignorant, savage, we repeat they may be—
they are; but the vilest animal that breathes, has
its likes and attachments—to its young, to its kind—
to its native soil—to all amongst which it has been ac
customed to live; and have these poor untutored
negroes no regrets 1 are they, ignorant and savage
as they are, yet still endowed with reason and
with human feelings, of less account in the eyes of
tbeir fellow men than the dumb beast of the field
or forest! So indeed would it seem; but a wail of
human woe bursts forth continuously from amongst
that wretched herd, and though it fails to touch
the hearts of the monsters in human form, who
hold them in chains and are about to barter them
for gold—it finds elsewhere a hearing, and will be
responded to in curses' upon the heads of the rav
isbers and despoilers; perhaps not yet—they may
triumph in their wickedness and cruelty for a time,
but though it may be slow in coming, the hour of
retribution will arrive—and that most surely.
Never yet, but in some way or other the wrongs of
the oppressed have been visited with doable severity
upon the oppressors. *****
In tbe course of a few weeks the Albatross with
its living freight arrived safely in the harbor of
Aracati and the negroes were quickly conveyed no
the Sagaldo river and disposed of to slave merchants
who subsequently took them to Bahia, Pernambu
co, Maranham, and other large Brazilian cities, and
easily and rapidly again sold them at a large profit.
Captain Seymour was well pleased as he surveyed
the heaps of gold that his adventure had brought, as
it lay piled upon the cabin table. The crew were ■
called down one by one and their wages paid and a
douceur of two hundred dollars presented to each i i
addition, and each was asked if he would ship fa -
another voyage—after having been allowed a reason
able time on shore to spend his ill-gotten wages, an 1
to revel in the drunkeness and debauchery, peculiar
to teamen on the termination of a voyage. All agreed,
for they were pleased with the result of the voyage—
and satisfied with the treatment they had met wit
from the capaain.
“ Now, Mr. Tolcroft, call the boy Frank down,” sai
the captain to the chief mate.
Frank Martin made his appearance in the cabin.
“ Well, Frank,” said Captain Seymour. “ Consider
ing all things, my boy, we have had a very prosperous
voyage, and I am well satisfied. Your articles of in
.denture, I find, guarantee you six dollars a month, be
tides providing for your board and clothing. Here is
the amount due you, and I have added twenty-five dol
lars, as a present, out of my own pocket. lam well
satisfied with your conduct. You will make a good
seaman by-and bye ; and I shall interest myself with
Mr. Mordant to further your advancement ”
Frank thanked the captain, and counted his money.
“I suppose,” continued Captain Seymour, “you
would like a run on shore with the rest for a day or
two. This is Wednesday; Mr. Tolcroft tells me that
that everything is in order on board. We shall sail on
Saturday ter Pernambuco. To-morrow and Fridayyou
can have to yourself.”
“ If you please, sir,” said the lad, “ I ehould like to
leave the Albatross, and go on board some other of Mr.
Mordant’s vessels to serve out the remainder of my
time.”
“ Wby—what's tbe matter, boy ? What fault do
you find with the Albatross or her captain ?” asked
Seymour.
“ I have no fault to find with either, sir,” responded
Frank.
“ Wby, then, do you wish to leave ?”
“ When I joined the Albatross. I had no idea of the
trade in which she was engaged,” said the boy, rather
hesitatingly.
“ Oh! so you are troubled with scruples ’of con
science, are you ?” replied the captain, smiling ironi
cally. “ Well, let me think what’s best to be done
under- <rircCTrocrb»ncUß. HIT. TUTOrprc/* aGGreSSIHg
the mate, “ I promised this youth a couple of days’
liberty on shore; but, since his conscience is so easily
touched, he will undoubtedly be desirous of avoiding
the scenes of license and debauchery he will witness if
be runs loose amongst his shipmates—so see that he
does not. quit the vessel on any pretext. And you
may as well give me back the money I have paid you,
my lad. Since you have no occasion to spend it, it
will be safer in my trust.”
“ Please, sir, I think I have earned my wages, at
least,” diffidently replied the lad; but his further
ti-tech was interrupted by tbe captain, who said,
sharply— ' ,
“ Place tbe money back again on the'table, sir; and,
since you are so exceedingly conscientious, go on desk
to your duty, and see that you attend to it strictly.
It's really a pleasure to have’so scrupulous a youth oa
beard tho Albatross, to remind her captain of his du
ties. Mr. Tolcroft,” he added, “ sea that this youag
man's clothing is brought aft immediately, and placed
in the cabin ; and take care that on no account he
quits the vessel. You can go on deck, sir,” addressing
lhe'boy; and Frark Martin, rather crestfallen, ascended
tbe companion ladder. *
'“ That boy must be looked after,” said the captain
to the mate, when the lad’ had retired. “ He’ll make
a good seaman by-and-bye—but, I thought at the time,
it was a foolish whim on the part cf Mr. Mordant to
put him on board the Albatross. Indeed, had I not
felt Eatii-.fied that he knew more than it appears he did
know, I would not have taken him on board at all. Once
here, however, here he must remain.”
“ I’ll keep a sharp eye on the youngster,” said the
mate.”
“ Do so,” replied the captain ; “ but don’t be harsh
with him. Probably by good treatment we may bring
bim round. Harsh measures will only strerigthea him
in his foolish notions.”
“I’ve known many such a lad, as had them’ere
scruples of conscience, as you call ’em —to tumble over
board accidentally on a dark night,” said the mate,
leering horribly, and giving vent to his accustomed
chuckle, when be thought be had said a good thing!
The captain did not reply ; and the conversation
turned upon matters connected with the ship.
. Frank had determined, if his remonstrance with the
captain failed, to quit the ship at all hazards, but in
bis eagerness he had overshot his mark, and he now
found himself in an awkward predicament—for, even
if -he managed to effect his escape, what was he
to do without clothing or money ? In one regard,
however, his plan was facilitated, for neither the cap
tain or mate thought he would venture to make the
attempt, in his present position—and thus cast him
self on shore in the condition of a ship-wrecked sea
man—and ttherefore, though he was notjUfowed to
leave the vessel, no very strict watejr kept over
bim during the day, though of the mates
kept watch on deck at night.
Frank saw that his chances were desperate—still he
resolved to make tbejHtempt. On the Thursday not
A chance occurred'/but on tbe Friday he was sent
over the side to yamt the white streak on the water line.
The town of Aracati consists but of a feu’ hundred
houses on tb berth side of a small bay ; and the other
shores with wood and thicket to the mar
gin of the beach. The vessel lay at anchor not mire
than a quarter of a mile distant from the wooded
shores, and about a mile from the town, with her stern
towards it. The captain was setting on a hen coop be
neath the awning on the quarter deck, on the larboard
side, busily occupied in reading. All the crew but the
ccc-k, and two of the mates, were ashore ; and the
two latter were stretched at full length in the ham
mock Bettings, on the same side the deck as the cap
tain, and lazily smoking their cigars. Consequently,
Frank could_ slip into the water from the starboard
bow unperceived, and as he hoped reach the shore by
swimming and penetrate into the woods before his
flight was discovered. He made an excuse to come on
deck, to reconnoitre and see that all was right; and
finding the captain and officers still in the same posi- '
tlcn, and the ciok busily employed in the galley, he
again descended to the plank, and gently let himself !
oil into the water. He Was unperceived, and had
swam perhaps one hundred yards before it was known
that be had left the vessel’s side ; but unfortunately
at this moment the cook came to the side of the ship
to draw a bucket of water for some culinary purpose.
He missed the lad from the plank, and casting his eyes
toward the shore, saw him at a distance boldly strik
ing cut for the shore. He immediately gave the
alarm, and the captain and mates were oa their feet in
an instant.
“ Curse the fellow,” said the captain, stamping his
loot with vexation. “ But he’s not too far off, I'll spoil
bis sport yet. Hand me a musket, Mr. Allan.”
The second-mate took one from the rack round the
mainmast, which was always kept full of muskets,
pikes and cutlasses, when the vessel was.in port, and
handed it to the captain.
“ Hilloa there 1” shouted Captain Seymour to the
boy, “ come back here, you scoundrel, come back, or
I’ll fire at you.”
.Whether the boy heard his voice or not, the com
mand was unheeded; he still swam boldly, manfully
on towards the shore.
“ Bang 1” went the musket, and the ball whizzed
through the air, striking the water some distance
astern ot the swimmer, whence.it bounded and re
bounded, skipping along past his’eara.
“ By rve missed him this time,” said the Gap-
tain, “ band me another musket, Allan, and take one
yourself; and yon, too, Tolcroft—l’ll shew the young
sceundrel, the penalty of breaking my orders. He’D
never break any ethers.”
The boy had heard the report and the whiz of the
ball, as it bounded past him, and sunk at last, some
yards in advance; he bad momentarily turned his
head, but only to turn it back again and redouble his
efforts to escape.
“New, Tolcroft and Allan, take good aim and steady.
Fire 1” shouted the captain, and the three reports were
simultaneously heard. Again, the balls whistled
through the air; but Frank had during the interval
placed several yards of greater distance between him
self and the vessel, and the balls touched the water at
a greater distance behind him than the single bullet
had done before—again they skipped and bounded
over the surface, straight towards him, but they sank
ere they reached him.
“Confound tbe useless things!” said the captain,
throwing bis musket contemptuously to the deck—
“ lower a boat,” he shouted, “ by I’ll have him
yet, dead or alive.”
But a boat was not so easily lowered; the pinnace
and long-boat were secured amidships, ready for the
ship’s sailing t n the following day—the jolly-boat wa •
on shore with the third-mate, and the captain’s gig
the only remaining boat, had been hoisted on board
and turned keel up, for the purpose of being painted ;
the paint was not yet dry. Frank had been employed
upon it, and he bad well-calculated the difficulty there
would be in sending a boat after him.
“ D n the paint 1” shouted the captain, in reply
to some remark of the mate’s in regard to it,—“ over
board with the boat, quick 1 we’il be able to catch the
young scamp before he reaches the shore:” and the
boat was hoisted over the side, as quickly as possible ;
the captain himself assisting at the tackles. Both
mates and the captain sprang into it, and seized an oar
a-piece, tbe captain using his, whale-boat fashion, to
steer as well as to aid in propelling the boat.
The chase was an exciting one. Frank had reached
within a comparatively short distance of the shore
during the time that had been occupied in getting the
gig into the water; but his strength was begining to
tall him—nevertheless he strained every nerve—swiftly
the boat cleft the smooth waters cf the bay in pursuit,
and earnestly the. pursuers bent to the oars, for there
was excitement in the chase; but their efforts were
u 6B , ’ aen within one hundred yards or less of the
boy, the latter touched the shore, turned round, waved
Sio? 60 , 4 - in . exu ft‘ftioa derision, and disap
appeared m the wwds. F
“ Pull in, pull in—run the boat right onto tbe beach!”
cried the Captain. “We may catch him yet,” and in
a few minutes more the boat was on the shore, and the
Captain and Mates had sprung out and penetrated into
the woods ; but the boy was lighter and more active
than they. They found a difficulty in pushing through
the tangled weeds and brushwood, and soon gave up
the search as useless and returned to the ship, wearied
with their exertions.
“ By Heaven 1” said Seymour as he reached the ves
sel’s deck. “ The boy deserves to escape for his cour
age ; but his escape may be an awkward matter. I
should have liked to have caught him.”
“ Or to have shot him;” chuckled Tolcroft.
Frank spent the night <in the woods, sleeping
amongst the branches of a lofty tree, where he thought
he would bo secure from the attacks of wild beasts or
venomous reptiles—nor did he venture out until the
evening of the following day, and then with the ex
ception of one or two Brazilian coasters, the bay was
devoid of shipping. The Albatross had sailed for Per
nambuco. Footsore and half famished, he reached the
town and there procured some simple refreshment and
the rest he so much needed in the hut of a negro, to
whom he related his adventures, as well as he
could, for he knew but a few words of the broken
patois spoken by the black. However, he found no
difficulty in getting a berth on board one of the coasting
crafts in the harbor, which was bound to Seara—
there he joined another vessel, and worked bls pas
sage to Maranbam, and thence he procured a berth on
regular wages to New Orleans.
What little money was coming to him on his arrival
at the latter port, together with his advance moaey he
spent in such clothing as was necessary, and shipped
on bc-srd a cotton vessel bound to Liverpool.
.... . * * .. -»
Just at sunrise cne flue morning, about three weeks
after young Martin had sailed for Liverpool, the cap
tain of a fine vessel, the appearance of which would
have told at once, even to the least practised eye, that
she was a ship of war, came on deck, and addressing
the officer of the watch, said: “ Mr. Ross, let the
watch keep a sharp look out. We ought to sight the
island of Barbadoes before ‘seven bells.’ ”
“ Aye, aye, sir,” responded thß officer, touching the
peek of his cap with his forefinger, and lowering the
spy glass which for some time he had kept pointed
across the water to leeward. Having replied to his cap
tain’s command and given the necessary instructions
to the men, he again raised the glass to his eye in the
same direction.
“ Our observations indicate that we are to leeward
of the island, Mr. Boss,” said the captain to the young
lieutenant; “ I don’t think you’ll sight the land in
that direction.”
. “ It’s not that, I’m looking for, sir,” replied the offi
cer; “ but since it grew clear daylight, half an hour
ago, I’ve seen a black speck thereaway to leeward,
which I can’t make out properly—l first caught sight
ef it as I was sweeping tlje horison with my glass at
daybreak. I thought at first it was a rock ; then that
it was a float of seaweed; and then that it was a boat;
but really, I ean make nothing at all of it.”
The captain took the glass from the officer’s hands,
and peered long and earnestly through it himself.
“ 1 can’t make it out,” he said at last “As you say,
it dees look like a boat sometimes, and yet, at other
times it looks like a mass of seaweed. If I thought it
was leally a boat, I would bear down to it; but we
have to beat to windward to weather the island, and
we should lose so much ground. Here Mr. Miller,” he
exclaimed, turning to the midshipman of the watch,
who was standing on the lee side cf the deck, “ your
eyes are younger than mine or Mr. Ross’s either; take
jou the glass and see what you can make of that ob
ject.”
Tbe youth touched his cap, advanced and took the
glass from the captain. He peered through it for some
minutes, and then said: “ It does not look like a boat,
sir, unless it is bottom.up; but I think I can see some
figures moving upon it. It looks to me as if they were
waving something or other for a signal of distress; but
the object is so distant and so small that I cannot pro
perly make it out.”
“ On deck, there 1” shouted an old quarter-master,
who, seme time before the captain had come ou deck,
had been sent aloft by the lieutenant with a spy glass,
to see if he could make anything out of the dark ob
ject.”
Halloa 1 what is it ?” answered the officer.
“ That dark object js a boat capsized, and two figures
are clinging to it, sir,” replied the seaman. “ I could
not make it out at first; but the sun is shining right
upon it now. They are waving something to attrac
our attention.”
“ We’ll run down toward the object, Mr. Ross,” said
the captain, “until we are near enough to lower a
boat, and then ‘ heave to ” and the officer immedi
ately gave the necessary directions to trim the yards
and alter tbe vessel’s course.
As tbe ship drew nearer; it became quite evident
that it was indeed a boat, floating keel upwards—the
keel barely out of the water, borne down as it was by
the weight oftwo human beings, who were apparent
ly lashed to the rudder stem--and from the appearance,
of small -pieces of wreck and burnt and chrred wood
and masses of cotton burnt to a cinder, and floating
heavily .upon the water, it was apparent that some sad
catastrophe had occurred. It was immvdiately and
correctly surmised that a cotton ship had taken fire
and burnt to the water’s edge and sunk, dud that the
hapless beings, to whom help was now arriving were
probably the sole survivors of the crew.
The Bloop, cf war was ‘hove to’ and a boat lowered
and rapidly pulled towards the poor creatures, and it.
hortly returned with a lad and asyoung woman; both’
of whom were in such an exhausted state that they
wem unable to move or speak—a few hours more of
exptSiure, and all human aid would have availed
-naught, for the female was already insensible
Tt-ey were lifted gently aboard and carefully tended
by the surgeon and his assistants—and in a short
time the youth had recovered sufficiently to tell his
story.
The surgeon came on deck. and reported the fact to
me capisra.
“And the yourg woman?” said the captain enquir
ingly. “She is not past recovery, I hope? ”
“No, I trust we shall be able to bring her round
yet—indeed she already shows symptoms of reviving;
but, peer thing 1 she was alibut gone when she was
brought on board.”
“I will see the lad directly,” said the captain, “and
hear his story. I suppose the young -woman was a
passenger. Perhaps she was the captain’s wife, poor
creature.”
“No, I don’t think she is a married woman, “replied
the doctor” at any rate she wears no wedding ring ;
but, here is a locket containing the portrait of a young
man which was suspended by a blue riband to her
neck—and I took this ring from her finger. It is
rather a curiosity,” and the doctor handed the trinkets
to the captain, saying “I must go down below again
.and see how my patients are getting on.”
Tbe captain took the locket and ring in his hands,
end slightly glanced at the former, but tbe latter at
tracted more notice. He examined it curiously—and
then handed it to the lieutenant, remarking “a quaint,
curious device that, Mr. Ross—l never saw a ring like
it before—but, I must go beiow an-i see what the
youth has to say.”
The ring which the captain handed to the lieuten
ant was a plain circlet of gold with a massive setting
coneisting of a star of small but pure pearls and an
emerald heart in the centre, and the letter'“J”-was
engraved- inside. It was a curiosity and evidently of
considerable value.
The reader will scarcely require to be informed that
the s!oop-of war was the U- 8. ship Georgia, Comman
der Potter, on board of which young Miller had re
. ceived hn appointment as midshipman. She had been
to Pernambuco fend, after lying in the harbor for
tome weeks, awaiting orders from the commodore, had
received instructions to sail for Havana, with despatches
to tbe American man of war in that barber; which
were subsequently to Ms sent to the United States
Government; ard after delivering these to the com
manded officer cf the American ship, the G was
ordered to proceed, as young Miller had anticipated, to
the coast of Africa.
The captain descended below, and questioned the
young lad who bad been picked up from the wreck, as
to the particulars of the disaster which had befallen
him, and which had left so'few jet such sact'traces
behind.
“ Wh?t is your name, my man ?” enquired the cap
taip.-
“ Frank Martin, sir,” replied the youth.
“ And the name of ths vessel, which, I presume, has
been burnt ?”
“ The Laurel, of Liverpool, loaded with cotton, from
New The vessel caught fire ten days ago, off
the Bahama islands, but a considerable distance to the
southward and westward of them. We were not ia
sight cf any land, and could get no assistance. -The
fire burnt slowly for several days, and we had hopes of
getting it under: but at last it burst forth from the
bold, and we found that any further effort to eave the
vessel would be uselees. We had barely time to get
out tbe boats ; for in an hour after the fire hsd burst
from the hatchways, the vessel and rigging were one
sheet of living flame.
“ We had three boats, and they held the whole
of the crew and a considerable quantity of provisions,
but they were sadly overloaded.
“ The night after we took to the boats a sudden gale
arose, which lasted several hours. The jolly boat, on
boasd of which was the young woman you have saved,
together with myself and five others, was capsized,
and all the others were drowned. I managed to seize
hold of the rudder of the beat; and seeing the young
woman struggling near me, I seized a portion of her
clothing and dragged her towards me, and succeeded
in making both of us fast to the stern of the boat. In
the mornmg, when tke gale moderated, no sign of the
other boats was to be seen; they were deeply loaded,
for everybody had crowded into the larger boats; I
fear they are lest. Since yesterday morniug we have
been tossing to and fro, immersed to our shoulders in
water, and ihe upper portions ef our bodies exposed to
the sun during the day and to tbe cold at night. I
saw the ship this morning, and attempted to call the
attention of the young woman to it; bq) she was even
then insensible. 1 thought she was dead, but the doc
tor says she is reviving. I managed to wave my neck
kerchief, as well as I could with my stiffened arms,
and at last bad the happiness of seeing that we had
been observed, and that the course of tbe vessel was
altered, aid she was bearing down towards us.”
At this moment the surgeon-approached and said,
“I-am happy to inform you that your companion in
peril is out of danger—and will soon recover—l have
left her sleeping soundly. Who is she, a passenger, I
presume?”
“No, sir, she was the stewardess of the Laurel,
her name is Charlotte, at least so she was called—
but I never heard her surname.”
“Tbe stewardess!” exclaimed the doctor—“dear
me, I should’nt have thought that. From her ap
pearance, I should take her to 'have been delicately
nurtured, and her hands chew that she has certainly
been unused to hard work,”
“Well, I suppose, my man,” interrupted the cap
tain, “ycu will have no objection to enter
your name on the ship’s books—since you
have boarded us in such a strange manner,
you will then draw your pay from this day. We shall
shall probably be out a twelve ■ month; the ship is
bouud to the coast of Africa. What say you?”
Frank thought he might as well make a virtue of
necessity, and therefore he readily agreed to have
bis name enrolled among the crew, and thus the
late cabin boy ef the slaver became a seaman on
board a cruiser bound to aid in the suppression of the
elave trade; but'as yet Frank, for certain reasons of
his own, kept bis own counsel with regard to his
. bavirg escaped from the Albatross, on the coast of
Brazil. ■
With regard to tbe young female, there was no re
course tut to take her to the coast, on board the man
of-war, and to send her back to the United States by
tbe first' ship that the G should meet with
bound thither.
She v. as very thankful for the kindness shewn her
by the officers cf the ship; but was very reserved—all
that could be learnt from her was that her name was
Charlotte Herbert, and noticing this reserve, the cap
tain and officers forbore to question her.
In the course of a few weeks the G made the
African coast, and cruised along it from Loanda as
far north as Cape Coast Castle, without meeting with
any slavers, and the captain, for the sake of varying
the monotony cf the cruise, resolved to visit the
islands, commencing at Fernando Po and proceeding
southward to St. Thomas and Annabon.
CHAPTER XIV.
“ Can it be possible that two rings have been manu
factured of such a very peculiar appearance?” asked
Charles Mordant of himself, as he quitted the widow
Miller at tbe depot of the Jersey City Ferry, as men
tioned in a preceding chapter. “It may be, nay, it
must be the case. lam a fool to trouble myself about
' the matter.”-
■ To enable the reader to understand wherefore Charles
Mordant had shown such a degree of anxiety and ap
parent distruEt ard uneasiness when he observed the
ling alluded to on Mrs. Miller’s finger, we must par
tially retrace our history. The reader is aware that
Charles Mordant was, at the period of his first intro
duction, studying for the legal profession in Boston:
but like those of a great many young men of large ex
pectations in tbe present day, and especially in the
United States, his studies were merely nominal. For
form’s sake be attended chambers occasionally, but
the chief portion of his time was spent in the pursuit
of pleasure, and we are sorry to say that the pleasures
in which Charles Mordant took delight were not ef
toe moat orthodox character. To tell the truth he was
NEW YORK, SUNDAY MORNING, APRIL 9, 1854.
a frequenter of fashionable saloons, gambling houses,
and every other resort of which dissipation and immo
rality were the leading characteristics. Some six
months prior to tbe date of the opening of our story,
he had been on a visit to Philadelphia; and while
there, by some meana or other, he had formed an inti
macy with a young lady whose parents belonged to the
Society of Friends, and whose name was Jeannetio
Dixon. On the part of the young man the intimacy
had been commenced merely for the purpose of creat
ing seme fresh excitement to refresh his jaded spirits.
Jeannette Dixon was a very pretty and interesting girl,
a d joung Mordant had met her by chance at the
house of a friend where she had been on a visit. He
hsd paid the modest, unassuming girl marked atten
tion ; and as he was a good-looking fellow enough—
knowrrto be the prospective heir of great wealth, and
supposed to be of good moral character—and more
particularly es ihe young woman, had heretofore led
a very secluded life, and was now just of that age when
the female heart is most susceptible to the attractions
of the opposite sex, she had been much flattered
the preference shown towards her by youag Mordant.
She was shy and reserved at first, but her very reserve,
tbe fact that she kept her thoughts to herself, rendered
' er more readily, ttough secretly, susceptible to the
young man’s aassiduities and protestations of attach
ment. The result was, that what in the first instance was
merely a pleasurable, flattering sensation, causing her
heart Ho Hutter and her cheek to blush, at the thought
of being the object of the young man’s especial notice
and favor, rapidly ripened into a feeling of love. Charles
Mordant likewise began to discover that he felt very
difierent sensations wiih regard to the fair Qua
keress, to those he hadpreviously experienced,
when he hadthobght fit ta patronize, as be
tamed it, any young ladt whom he could get
to lirten to his flatteries. He began to feel that
he could love Jeasnette Dixon, at least as much as he
was capable cf loving any one but himself, and that
if the were of a more wealthy family, that he could
be content to make her his wife; but then her
parents, though highly respectable, were comparative
ly poor, and the idea of marriage was not to be
thought of in earnest—though he did not hesitate to
speak of it to Jeannette, who otherwise would have
tteeled her heart to all bis protestations of love—or,
at least, would have striven to do so, and if she could
not, would have resisted the temptations that beset
her.
Such a rigid watch is kept over their children by
the quakers, that it was impossible that this attach
ment on tbe part of their daughter and young Mor
dant, could long be kept a secret from Jeannette’s
parents and she was warned by her tather and moth
er both of the diffeience in the worldly position of her
lover and herself and also told, that they would not
give l/trir consent to their daughter’s marriage, with
any one but a member of their own peculiar sect.
Jeannette told Charles of this determination on the
pait of her parents, but he merely laughed at
the prejudices of the old folks, as he called them,
and thereby drew upon himself a severe rebuke
from his fair and confiding friend. He, however, soon
soothed her indignation; told her he would marry
her at last, even if he had to wait for years—and fait
her more than ever assured of his love.
Thus matters, continued for several weeks. Mean
while Mr. Dixon had written to Mr. Mordant, stating
in plain terms the connexion that existed between
the young man and his daughter and his own objec
tions to the marriageas well on the score of difference
of religious persuasion of worldly position. He
received a letter from Mr. Mordant thanking him for
the information—agreeing perfectly with his views—
stating that he had other intentions with regard to
bis eon and that he never would give his consent to
his union with Miss. Dixon. The old merchant also
wrote to his son, expressing the same sentiments,
and threatening him with disinheritance if he ref'u
red to act in accordance with his wishes. Mr. Dixon
stowed the letter to his daughter and endeavored to
reason her out of her misplaced attachment; but as
may well be imagined, in vain. She felt confident
that Charles loved her; bad he not told her so, and
added that he would sooner have her for his wife,
andstarn his own living by the sweat of his brow,
than wed another and revel in countless' riches and
after that could she doubt him ? she asked herself,
and her heart responded—no.
Charles replied to his father’s letter, saying the
it was merely a harmless itrtation.that he was indulg
ing in; that he had no thoughts of any thing so
rious, and that the girt and her parents must be ver
simple to imagine such a thing; to whiuh Mr. Mor
daut replied that he was glad to hear it was so it
the same time jokingly teminding his sou that the
moth that plajs too near the candle can scarcely
avoid being singed at last.
Notwithstanding every precaution on the part of
her parents, Chai-les and Jeannette managed to con
trive stolen interviews, and at last he told her ia reply
to her questioning, that his father w>_uld not consent
to their marriage ; that he was going to Boston to re
sume bis studies, and urged her consent to a private
wedding. Tho poor girl was strongly attached to him;
she dreaded his leaving her,.and sue had already been
taunted by her female friends with regard to her in
fatuation, as they were pleased to term it, to such a
degree that her life bad been rendered wretched. Ia
an evil moment she consented. She believed that she
was privately married by a minister of the Baptist
church, when in fact.only a.mock ceremony was
performed by a graceless companion and tool of the
young and abandoned spendthrif t and Jeannette Dixon,
quitted her happy home and followed her supposed
husband to Boston. Mr. Dixoa wrote again to Mr.
Mordant, when he discovered ths flight of his daugh
ter, and tbe merchant wrote and demanded an expia-,
nation cf sou. Ths young man denied any know
ledge of the girl, and even said that he believed her
to be a worthless creature, whom it were folly for him
to trouble himself about farther ; and thus the poor
distressed parents were left quite unable to discover
what had become of their child. Jeannette wished to
-Wlite to her parents L but
Charles, who said that ue would see his mother in a
short time and by her means obtain his father’s for
giveness ; but, were the marriage made known now—
his father would, in his anger, act up to his threats ;
and, fearful of injuring her supposed husband’s future
prospects, poor Jeannette was led reluctantly to main
tain secrecy.
For some time Charles, who was really much attach
ed to the young woman, treated her with the utmost
.kindness and attention,’and lavished innumerable
presents upon her. One day he chanced to step into a
jeweler’s shop, with the intention of making some
purchases, when his notice was attracted towards a
ring of peculiar form and great value and beauty. He
purchased it and gave it to Jeannette; but the circlet
being too large for her finger, he brought it back tho
next day to have it altered and to have the letter “J”
engraved inside.
At this time, Captain Seymour, who had just returned
from a successful voyage, had gone on a short «isit to
Boston, and as tbe reader is aware, he had been fascina
ted in New York by the charms of Mrs. Miller’s pretty
and interesting daughter. He was desirous of making
her a present of some jewelry, and by chance, he wan
dered into the same jeweller’s store that had in the
morning been visited by Charles Mordant. He
luade such purchases as be thought requisite, and was
on the point of leaving the store when he said:
“Bj-tbe bye, I should like to look at some finger
lings—l want to buy one for a iady.”
The jeweller handed him a tray stored with the ar
ticles in question. “I don’t like any of these,” said
he, “they are all too common ; can’t you make me
something out of the way—entirely new ?”
A sudden thought struck the juweller. He would
male him a ring similar to that which had been pur
chased by Charles Mordant. It was a singular pat
tern, and it was unlikely that there were many like it
to be found. He described it to his customer, who
gave him an order to make it as soon as possible.
“By-tbe bye,” said Seymour, “ engrave the letter
‘ J’ on it.”
The jeweller looked surprised, but promised to fulfil
the order as soon as possible.
He turned to his partner, however, as soon as Sey
mour had left the stere, arid said:
“It is a’itrange coincidence. You recollect about
two years ago, we made a ring for a lady who came
to the store in deep mourning accompanied by a gen
tleman—l think they were English, but I forget their
names—it was an emerald heart encircled with dia
monds, and the letter ‘J.’ was engraved upon it. I made
another ring set with similar stones, and yesterday a
gentleman purchased it, and to-day he called for the
purpose of having it altered, and the letter ‘ J.’ en
graved upon it. That gentleman who has just gone
out, wanted a ring of some novel and strange pattern,
end/ described the emerald and pearl rings to him.
He has ordered cne, and strange enough, has requested
it to be similarly engraved.”
“It is strange,” replied the person addressed.
‘-I shall make two while I am about it,” said the
first speaker ; “ since I had such luck in selling the'
three, I may yet sell another—as a rare specimen—
you know—they seem to take people’s fancy as rari
ties, but if the patsern were to become common, they
would be a drug in the market.”
Tbe jeweller, unknown, to either Charles Mordant
cr Seymour, did make two, and thus Charles and
the Captain were both provided, leaving one stiil
in tke manufacturer's possession.
William Martin, who the reader will recollect we
mentioned heretofore as studying law with a gentleman
in Augusta (Me.), had about this time come on to Bos
ton to complete his studies. The young man was at
this time paying bis addresses to a young lady, in Au
gusta, and it naturally enough occurred to him to send
her a souvenir of his love and constancy. A few
weeks after Captain Seymour baa purchased his ring,
William Martin called at tbe jeweller’s store in ques
tion, and asked toiookat some rings and other arti
cles of jewellery, and he was shown the fac simile of
the rings already spoken of.
“ That will please Jessica,” he thought to himself.
“It will be quite a curiosity down in Maine;” and he
immediately purchased it of the jeweller. “By the
bye,” said he, as he was pulling out his purse to pay
for the trinket, “ I wish you would get tke letter “ J ”
engraved upon it for me.”
The jcwtlter was astonished. Bethought at firrt
that he must be dreaming. The letter “J ” began to
assume a magical appearance in his eyes ; but he pro
mised to get the letter engraved.
“ Very strange,” he muttered to himself, as the
young man left the store ; “ very strange, indeed. I
don’t alf like it, somehow or other. I won’t make
any m re of those rings.”
It wss a similar ring to that which Mrs. Miller wore
that Claries Mordant had given to Jeannette Dixon •
and Captain Seymour had given the ring he had pur
chased to Jane Miller.
In tbs following chapter the reader will perceive
that Charles Mordant had ample reason to feel the un
easiness be could scarcely dissemble, when he saw the
emerald ring on the finger of the widow.
[To be Continued.]
Original.
Scene in a Ferry-Boat.
East River— Present Ladies, Babies, Gentlemen,
a cabin lull.—March wind blowing a hurricane of
couglis and influenzas. Stout gentleman, taking a
fancy to view the river, seats himself by the door,
throws it wide open, and secures it there with his foot
and umbrella.
Stout Gentleman (soliloquising)—l choose to im
rreve my time, let others do as they may. Profit may
be gained from looking at the river and docks, as one
is crossing the ferry, and it is quite possible that a
bright idea for a speculation may be suggested by what
one sees at such an odd moment, which otherwise would
be lost.
Lady (coughing)—What a terrible Vlad 1 lam
afraid my baby will catch his death of cold.
Stout Gent, (not hearing)—Now these wax dolls
and men done up in buckram, poring ever the news
papers, of course can waste time and opportunity as
they please. JTis none of my business. But they
never will make money. The only way is to keep one’s
eyes peeled, and never be caught napping. For my
part, I would as soon be caged at once, like an alliga
tor cr an owl, as to be shut up in a room. What a de
lightful breeze is blowing.
2» Lady (coughing, ner child sneezing)—O that
that door could be shut. What can tbe bear mean by
bolding it open in that manner ?
Pale Gent—Beg pardon, sir. The ladies desire the
coor closed.
Stout Gent.—Cold ?
Pale Gent.—Very cold—terrible wind— enough to
send one to his long home, to be exposed to it.for five
minutes.
Stout Gf.nt._Pleasant air; just fresh enough for
health. Sure no one can be incommoded. Beautiful
prospect of plying boats, aud crowded docks, and for
ests of shipping. This is what makes us a great coun
try. Commerce, industry, wealth.
[Stout gentleman readjusts his umbrella as a brace
agiinst the door.
Irish Gent, (approaching)—lf ye want to view the
scanery, wouldn't it be aqually convenient to take the
outside of the dcor?
Stout Gent, (a little thunderstruck)—Are you ad
dressing me, sir ?
Irish Gent—lf you piase, sir, there’s a wide walk
cn tbe outside.
[The Irish Gentlemen knocks up the umbrella with
his foot, and door comes together with a crash upon
Stout Gentleman’s corns., Stout Gentleman hops about
on one foot, and swears; and the boat at the moment
touching her dock, the Stout Gentleman hops, the cur
tain drops Boss Darlimo.
[Original.]
The Heart’s Dial.
BY ANNA JANE MACLEAN.
Hour? without f-eeing thee, are they not wearisome ?
Seemipot the past hours more and more cheerisome ?
When, walking hand in hand
Over the shining strand,
Or sitting side by side
In the calm even tide,
Soft as a spirit’s tread
Time onward fled.
Days without seeing thee full of repining are,
Bright o’er their dreary close riseth no shining star.
Hope may around thee flit,
Memory beside thee sit,
Fancy my thoughts beguile
With thy last word or smile—
But the dull tedium knows
No sure repose.
Wee»rs without seeing thee, fraught with misgiving are,
Wajwaxd imaginings are all I’m lining for.
7hy sworn fidelity
May check the swelling sigh,
But the assurance brings
No healing on its wings.
Weeks without seeing thee
Wearisome be.
Morths without seeing thee, with what prolific skill
We rd fancy conjures up shades of prophetic ill. .
Now o’er thy transient breath
Hangeth the sword cf death,
Death in the darkest guise
; ’ E’jer seen by mortal eyes ;
Months without seeing thee
k mad’ning be.
Years without seeing thee, could I their weight endure?
Could 1 the tonguelees grief of such a fate endure ?
Passing’like ages by
Long as eternity,
Ages of living breath
Yet bringing daily death ;
Years, without seeing thee
Such would they be.
April 2, 1854.
E»aancz3Erncsß3Xß=Ei=aaQ3>sczss3s( •
[Original.]
Peerings from Trinity Steeple.
The Artizt.
I
NO.V.
“My dear Edward, lay aside those books for to
night—you are weary almost unto death, my own hus
band. You must rest, or you will die aud leave us all
alone.”
“ No, Mary, I shall die if I do not work; and you,
too, and our darling child, must starve. Starve 1 yes,
die of hunger in the midst cf the abundance of this
great city 1 Well; it may be that to die together,
even by that lingering pain, were better than that fate
which the future has in store for us.”
And the speaker of these dark, despairing words
bowed his head upon his hands and wept. He wept
such tears as despair forces from the eyes of strong
men when, powerless amidst the last struggle with a
relentless Jate, there seems not on all their earth one
hand to aid, and in all their heaven nor sun, nor moon,
nor star to guide their footsteps along their darkened
life path.
He was a young man of, perhaps, twenty-five yeara.
His tall, slight figure was covered with coarse and
laded garments, but they could not hide its grace, dis
played even in the attitude of his despair. His soft,
chestnut hair curled forehead high and broad,
a here intellect reposed as upon a throne, and looked
forth, god-like, upon the common herd. There was a
singular sweetness in the expression of his large blue
eyes, and the smile which curved, for an instant, the
lines of his small mouth, as he looked up, was of almost
womanly sweetness.
No wonder the fair young creature who sat beside
him looked up to meet that smile almost with adora
tiou. She was so young, and fair, and girlish— coul
she be the mother ot that infant sleeping ia he
arms?
Yes 1 only seventeen, and already two yeara mar
lied. Mary Graham was the mother of that beautifa
babe, and almost happy amidst all her sufferings.
The room iu which these two sat was a small, close
apartment in the upper story cf a large tenement o
one of the cross etreets not far from Broadway. I
was very scantily furnished, and yet it contained all
their store of worldly goods; it was kitchen, parloc
and bedroom. It contained, however, some articles
not usually found in the tenements of the poor. Au
easel stood, in one corner, with palette and brushes ly
ing near, and upon the wall were two large pictures—■
landscapes, with the mellow tints that the old master?
of the art delighted in, thrown over them like a glory.
There was a reality in the heavy shadow of the dark
old weeds, and a freshness in the dewy uplands that
made you listen for the song of birds, or the lowing of
the kine as you looked. Upon the easel was a half
finished picture—a portrait ot the wife evidently, as a
Madonna with the outline of a child’s figure just
sketched upon ths canvass, and not yet colored. There
was a roundness in the pictured face which the young
wile’s care worn countenance no longer wore.
A long silence, broken only by sobs, followed ths
young man’s burst of despair. The wife crept to his
side and drew his head to her loving heart; and thus
she mutely said:—“ With my life would I shield yon
if the sacrifice could gain you comfort.” We will
leave him thus with his best earthly comforter, while
we tell tbe reader something of his history.
Edward Graham was born of lowly parents, who
dwelt far away from towns, amidst the rugged hills of
New Hampshire. His whole patrimony was a few al
most, barren acres, but God had endowed him with the
glorious gift of genius. Amidst the sublime scenery
which surrounded his mountain home, this gift had
grown and strengthened. From his early childhood
his love of the beautiful and .grand, had made itself
apparent in spite of all checks from the unappreciative
natures around him; and in early manhood, bursting
all lestraints, he declared his determination to follow
bis destiny end become a painter. Few and slight
were the aids which awaited, this obreure youth, but
genius triumphed over all obstacles. His parents died
while he was yet a youth, and the few hundreds reali
zed by the rale of his barren patrimony, sufficed to
procure all the tuition he needed ia tbe principles of
his art. Thenceforward his success was in his own
hands.
Portrait-painting became his ostensible means of ob
tair-ir-g a livelihood, while all his leisure moments were
devoted to the practice of the higler branches of his
art.
In tbe town where he had esablished himself, for a
season, be became acquainted with Mary Spencer, the *
daughter of one of the magnites of the place. He was
employed to paint the portnits of the lamily,but long
before her picture glowed in finished beauty upon’ the
canvass, it had been transferred in fadeless colors to
his heart. To say he lo’ed would be but a cold word
to .express the passionate idolatry of a heart glowing
with the inspiration genius which clothes all
things in ti e garment/ ot its own fire. He loved the •
fair child, and his thrilling words breathed into her
being the.same patsion. Then she acknowledged,
tremblingly, that in his heart alone had she a home.
In all the wide world, else, would she be alone and
desolate.
The father and mother wculd not give their child to
the poor painter and tbe lovers waited till hope died
cut for their relenting. But when the weeks and the
months passed on, and they yet forbade the marriage,
the two unworldly children took their fate into their
own bands. They fled away to another State and
were speedily made one.
Then they came to New York. Tbe parents of Mary
refused to be reconciled, and they stood alone in the
World. Edwatd had high hopes, because he was con
scious of the pioud gift which belonged to him. But
others saw it not. His modest sign of Artist and Por
trait Painter attracted no attention in the obscure
street where, only, his scanty means would allow him
to hire a studio; and all the rich men and women who
.■?tex£_willing to see their faces transferred to canvass,
desire d 'some ~ celebrated artist to paint them, for it
would be such a fine thing to point to the picture and
ray—“ It was done by I ,or C , and we did not
grudge all the dollars we paid for it, since those great
painters could be induced to let us sit to them.”
Well, Edward could get little enough to do for
money. So while he worked away upon his fine pic
tures, which he hoped to offer to the exhibition, aud
by and by sell for a great price, his small means be
came daily smaller and smaller.
After a few months he awoke one winter morning
end found in his purse but the paltry sum oftwo dol
lars. It was all that lay between him and starvation,
unless he could coin money from the products of his
genius.
Then he knew that he must turn to the plodding
pursuits of every day life; must curb the prancing
coursers of his genius, and yoke them to some drudg
ing labor. Foihimsclt he would scarce have done it,
but for the fair child whom he had drawn away from
the shelter of the parental home he could almost
cheerfully do even this.
That day he advertised for employment as clerk or
bookkeeper. His advertisement was answered,and
within a week he found himself in the counting-room
of Messrs. Cringe & Snarl—the great dealers in leather
way down town, over whose business arrangements
I have kept a watchful look for-some years. I saw
him seat - himself before the high desk, and enter upon
his hateful task, steadily and perseveringly, choking
down every rebellious thought, and going into the de
tails with a zeal and energy which surprised even
himself.
The salary which the rich merchants paid him was
pitiful enough—bare three hundred dollars per year
—cn account of his ignorance tbey said—but yet they
expected from him all the labor and attention to business
of one to whom they must have paid the very highest
price.
Time wore on. Edward sometimes got home at
thiee or four o’clock, and then he would bring out his
easel and work till the twilight blended his colors into
its own sober brown. He did copying in the evenings,
or any work he could do at home, and Mary sat beside
him and sewed, or lead to him. He gave up his
studio, and they lived in the one poor room in which
I first pointed them out to you, dear reader.
Another winter , came cold and chill. Mary was
feeble and sickly, with her infant only a few weeks old '
absorbing all her time and care. Neither were com
fortably clad for the season. They bad scarce money
enough to buy necessary food and fuel. Want came
very near and stared them in the face relentlessly.
Edward resolved to speak to his employers for higher
wages at once, as they had long ago promised to raise
them as aoon as he had learned the transact business
well. This pretext, he knew, could no longer be urged
fi rhe had not only, long since, overcome any little
difficulties arising from his ignorance of business, bat
bad lately, by his skill and energy, disentangled some
old long standing accounts which a former employee
had made so abscure as to involve an almost certain
loss of a large sum by the firm. As he had, by this,
saved them some thousands of dollars, he intended to
base bis claim to increased salary on the circum
stance.
I caw him lay his care, simply and straightforwardly,
before hie employers. To his astonishment, far more
than to mine, he was met with a decided refusal. “He
bad not,” they said, “been trained to the business cf
book-keeping, and could not expect a high salary.
They could not afford to pay him more. To be sure,
he did very well—they wished him to consider they
had no fault to find with him, but they could not raise
his salary a dollar at present. They had lived on three
hundred dollars a year when they were clerks, and of
course he could. Oh 1 he had a wife had he ? Why
didn't she go to work and help him ? She could sew,
tbey supposed, and there was always enough of that
weik to be found. As to the old accounts, that was ex
tra work, and they might, perhaps, allow him some
thing for it at the end of the year—now he must at
once make out a bill for a country dealer.” And so
the poor fellow was dismissed.
Thus wore on the winter months. In the Spring,
Graham again renewed his request, but this time was
met with a still more decided refusal. He became •
more urgent, described to them the poverty of his
home, and finally, in his desperation, reproashed them
with their inhumanity and oppression. This was too
much for these respectable and honorable merchants
to bear in silence. Messrs. Cringe & Snarl, in a fit of
virtuous indignation, at once discharged their contu
macious book-keeper. This was almost death to him,
for it at once deprived him of any settled means of
averting starvation, while to the rich men, it was al
most sport, for it was the dull season, and they could
supply Graham’s place at their leisure with seme fresh
victim.
Poor Graham Ihe had illy chosen his time! Now,
thrown out of employment, the time dragged onward
in weary distasteful toil. Every chance job he could
obtain he greedily secured. Mary, too, worked far be
yond her feeble strength. An inexperienced young
mother, her time was of course much occupied with
her child, but every spare moment was occupied by
weary toil at the needle, and she gladly earned the
few pence, which the oppression of New York decrees
to the labor of the seamstress.
The summer came. Clouds of dust all day filled
tbe hot air, while up from the narrow, reeking street
where they lived came fetid smells; and the filthy
paved court, behind their tenement, sent up its foul
effluvia to taint every breeze. The rich fled away to.
the free, open country; but for the poor, God help
them, there was no hope of country air, the smell of
flowers, or new-mown hay, or tempting fruit. They
were only “ the poor 1” I-et them stay to feed the
pestilence, and give their lifeblood to the thirsty
fever 1
Edward’s tears were soon past. Even in the depths
cf his despair he felt it was not manly to weep. Ho
rose up, and laid aside the heavy beoks from which he
had all day, since the earliest summer dawn, been stri
ving to disentangle old accounts. He tried to speak
hopeful words to his trembling wife, to re-assure her,
hut the words died away upon his tongue. His head
felt giddy, the light seemed to reel and dance before
him. As he sought his bed, the clocks tolled out the
hour of midnight over the hushed city, and then he
knew no more.
Very early the next morning Mary awoke with a
start. Her busband was talking wildly, and throwing
- his arms about like one swimming. He was very ill
and delirious, and evidently, in his fever, thought him
self trying to lave his burning limbs in one of the cool
lakes cf his native mountains.
Poor Mary 1 how little she knew of sickness 1 She
hurried on her garments quickly and ran for one of
ter neighbors—a poor, but kind and motherly woman,
whose compassion for the fragile, young wife had more
than once showed itself in acts of real kindness involv
ing what to her were real sacrifices.
Now she came readily. She saw at once that Ed
ward was verjull- •
“ Here, Mrs. Graham,” said she, “ give me the baby
. and I will stay with him and your husband, while you
go for a doctor. There is one on the corner of
street and Broadway, who will come at once, for be is
kind to tbe poor. I will do everything here.”
As Mary ran out into the street, her eyes blinded
by tears, she almost fell against an old gentleman who
was passing.
“ Why, how now, my dear,” said the old gentleman,
a little dapper man with very white hair and a gold-'
hearted cane. “ Why, what ia tba matter ? Cryiog,
hey ?” And he caught her as she was running past
him.
“ Why, let me see—you are a pretty girl, and good
as pretty, I’m sure. Won’t you tell me what's the
trouble ? Who knows but I can help you ? ’ And the
old mai looked so kindly and benevolently through
his spectacles, that Mary, then and there, incoherently
told him in a dozen words her whole story.
“ Married, hey ? Such a child !—and husband sick.
Very sick, is he ? Let us go up and see. I was going
up the liver this morning, but I can wait. Let me see
if I can help you. Come, shew me the way.”
“ But the Doctor,” faltered Mary. “ I must go for
him.”
“ Never mind the doctor. How do you know but I
am a doctor ?” And the old gentleman bustled up the
stairs as fast as bis young guide.
At first he looked only at the sick man, felt his
pulse, and wrote a prescription.
“ Yes ” said he to the old woman, “ Pm a doctor,
though I don’t practice much now-a-days. You go
and get these things, and give them according to direc
tions; and you will find I am a doctor, and a good one,
too.”
Then, as the old woman bustled off, he turned to
Mary, and began to talk to her and admire the babe,
which, now that it was awake, she held in the arms.
All at once his eyes fell upon the pictures, and the
. unfinished portrait on. the easel.
“Ha! whose are these? who painted them?—you
can’t be poor with such pictures in your possession 1
Why don’t you sell them ?”
“They aie my husband's,” said Mary, “and he
would gladly sell them if he could, but nobody ever
wanted them. He could paint portraits, but no one
wants them either.”
“ Yes, they do. He shall paint mine as soon as he
gets well enough. And I’il give him a thousand dol
lars for this,” pointing to one. of the pictures; “ and
more, if those that know say it’s wcrtli more. Here,
take this,” handing her a roll of notes, “ and I’ll send
ycu a check for the resbwhen I send for the picture.
May bo I shall bring somebody here to see it, so try
and get yonr husband well as fast as possible. 11l
send some men as I go along to give him a bath.
There, there, don’t cry, you silly child 1 Take care of
yourself, and bim, too, and the baby. You are not
going to starve with such a fortune in the house as
those pictures.”
Next Cay Edward Graham, thanks to the kind Doc
tor’s prescription, and the good news that awaited
the abatement of his delirium, was nearly well.
A feverish attack had, aided by his trouble, affect
ed his brain, but it passed with the dawning of good
times. • ‘
The rest of that summer was spent in the country,
amid the mountains and the streams of the place of
his nativity. In tha autumn Edward Graham, with
his wife and child, sailed ibr Europe. The good Doc
tor and bis artist friends had aided the poor painter.
They had recognized the great merit of his pictures
add had purchased them. From their sale a sufficient
sum was realized to defray the expense of that long
dreamed of visit to the shrines of Old World art.
Last summer the great American artist—Graham
returned to this native land.
As they landed from the steamer at her dock the
father and mother of Mrs. Graham were there to meet
them. Tbey had no objection to their daughter, or
her noble husband, now.
Graham’s fame is secured. He has not painted
much but well. The people hover round his studio
and seek admittance as a favor. A portrait from his
pencil wculd be of great value but, he paints no por
traits now.
Messrs Ciinge and Snarl were among the first to
call upon him. Mr. Snarl had a compunctious re
membrance of his eld cross words and looks; but
Mr. Cringe was all blandness aud courtesy. He in
vited the successful artist to a grand soiree, which
Mrs. Ciinge gave to her dear five-hundred friends.
The invitation was declined and Mr. Cringe bowed
himself for the last time, from the presence of the
great artist, more humbled than ha liked to acknowl
edge.
[Original.]
An O’er Trua Tale,
fi leaf frciii the Diary of a Suburban Physician,.
T/ie IPiFe’s Confession.
“Oh, that I were dead and in Heaven 1” exclaimed
a still young and beautiful woman, to whom we ad
dressed ourselves a few mornings since. “I have been
deceived and most cruelly treated, aud why ?' Because
jt was my misfortune to be heiress to a large estate, and
in an unguarded moment I lent my ear to thoso who
were plotting my ruin.
“By degrees I was led away, until at last I was told
I could not then retreat. At this stage, my mother’s
influence did prevail, and I resolved to cut off those
who would destroy; but the temnters again beset me.
They pictured to my imagination a life of gaiety and
pleasuie —no care, no trouble, only a scene of uninter
rupted happiness, if I would leave my husband, and
children, too,-if need be, and cleave unto them. Will
it be believed that a woman, a: rived at maturity, and
past, could thus be deluded ? My good resolutions
were overset in a moment. My mother was forgotten,
and my husband, to whom the conspirators had pre
viously several times administered a slow poison, was
now to be got rid of as soon as possible. The foreign
doctor who had been employed, estimated that he
could not long survive, but would not undertake to do
more than let him die, for fear of consequences. He
had already admiiistered, himself, a dose of poison,
taking care to absent himself from the village for twen
ty -foui- hours, when its effect was to be felt, and this
act he had acknowledged (unguardedly) to my hus
band in the presence of Michael, his attendant-. To
give another over-dose of nux vomica, so as to produce
convulsions and death, would confirm suspicions al
ready aroused, and he ‘would not run the risk tor even
another thousand dollar bribe.’
“ ‘But,’ says Doctor H-, ‘I will ease him off hand
somely, so that no suspicion shall arise. In my coun
try this business is well understood. 1 shall busy my
self in circulating the report that he has a consump
tion of the stomach and bowels, and you all must im
press upon everybody you see the idea that he is kill
ing himself by drinking—that his lungs are all gone,
&c. This, acded to the report that you have already
started that he was a “brutal” husband, will do more
than enough to cover his demise, however sudden. Let
me alone tor finishing up the job, but discourage, do,
1 -pray, as many as pcssiole from calling; and remem
ber my fee of twenty tousan tollar, when all is over.’
“But, let me tell you,” said the truly pitiable ob
ject beiore me, who those conspirators are:
“If you have been at H., on ascending the hili,
you observe a neat country house, divided info two
tenements, and having a pretty garden ia front and
adjoining. One of these tenements was occupied by
tbe people in question; and, attracted by their gar
den, I suppose they first noticed me in this way.
71. cy never were introduced to me. The elder of all was
called, “alderman,” having sometime, I believe serv
ed in that capacity, though his [jfe, I have been since
in'oimed was mainly spent on the river, and as keeper
ot a dock hotel. This man, though sixty five years
of age, was the prime mover in the business, haring
for adjuncts a wife, two daughters, and two or three
sons and sons-in-law, one of whom was to be my future
husband! The wiles of these people would not be
believed, were I, uncorroborated, to relate them; nor
do I propose to give you more than a brief outline of
the affair,” said the charming, though weak, and
meet unhappy lady.
“Suffice it to say, that I gave my poor husband
no attention; but, while be was at home helpless, I
absented myself for months almost entirely from the
house and spent my time with these people. I now
pledged myself to the eon to marry him, and as the
doctor assmed me that my husband’s life was hang
ing only by a thread, I ordered gay dresses, hats, &e.,
for a bridal tour. By the advice of the'alderman,'l
took from my husband all the money he possessed,
and collected every trinket and little valuable I could
find; and then the party carried provisions, bed
linen, and other matters out of the house for their
own use; I gave the son my marriage ring and took
one from him in return, and various were my presents
to the family generally, but. upon this I need not en
large. I was crazed! lamno w crazed 1 My sweet
'children had heretofore had the. kindest and most
assiduous attention from me, but I had been taught
to forget my mother’s affection for 'them, and they
W( re sorrily and sadly neglected, dirty, and- ia rags.
Oh! to what a disgraceful depth will a woman sink
who even falters in her duty! The first step taken,
- all ia lost.
“But my husband who had long suspected foul
treatment, now lefused to take any longer tbe medi
ciMs left him by the Doctor. To humor him, I got
h'm such as he desired, and promised not to make the
change known to any one, until we saw whether it
was ior the better or worse. But I had never succeed
ed (uor had tbe conspirators, though they had con- .
staidly attempted it,) in winning over my husband’s
man, who kept the medicine so that nothing could be
added to it, and he therefore began rapidly to improve.
He was emaciated to a skeleton and could not stand,
nor lift his hand to his lap, but now he was getting bet
ter 1 A new policy must be adopted. I held a consults
tion with, the aiderman, and the son was sent to inform'
the doctor that under the new regime his patient
was improving, and be must now go aud put a stop
to it. The doctor came, and for a whole hour used
tbe most taunting and bitter language to his patient,
who was then so feeble that he could not speak above
a whisper and could not turn in bed. I was in the
hall and heard the whole. That he might not appear
anxious to continue his practice, the medico from the
land where they whip women, did not that morning
propose to renew his practice, and the next day te
absented himself entirely; but on the third day he
came, arid sugge eted that the man might be sent do wn
for more medicine; but my husband was now fully
confirmed in his suspicions; and determined to avoid
entirely any further doses from that source.
Up to this time my husband and myself had lived
together without a quarrel or outbreak cf any kind,
and how could I accuse him, who had always been so
kind and attentive, of unkindness? But this I had
been urged to do time and time again by the married
daughter. They now advised me to starve him out—
to sack the house, furnish no money for medicine and
attendance, and to dismiss the servants and leave the
bouse; and he in that helpless-ceisdition 1 God for
give me, but I obeyed their behests 1 But I was a
maniac, and may I be forgiven. Those people first
eradicated from my not too strong mind every reli
gious principle, and then by their mesmeric practices
completely turned my brain. They disregarded God,
the Sabbath and the Bible, and I was weak enough
to be indoctrinated with their principles.
“ I proposed at last to my husband that we would
remove to the pretty town where bis parents reside,
but when he assented the conspirators over ruled the
project, and they demanded of me that I should sepa
rate where we were, and for that purpose a lawyer
had already been engaged. The furies possessed me,
and my sleep was a troubled one, but could I return
to my injured husband? To relieve me on that point
another physician was bribed to say that I must soon
be a widow ; and on the other hand I was told that
without thrnr powerful support I should myself be con
victed of poisoning and be sent for life to the State
Prison.
******
“We have run riot the past summer, I receiving the
close and intimate attentions of the son, bat I have
clearly seen that my conduct has laid me open to sus
picion, wherever we have been. Until now this.per
son has constantly assured me that he had advices
from , which said my husband was rapidly de- .
dining, but from another source I learn that such is
not tbe case. He is recovering from the poison, though
slowly. lam now here a prisoner, watched when I
write, accompanied when I go out, and every letter I
receive or send away is withdrawn from the office, in-
geniously opened, and read. I shall now die, doctor
but I pray you have charity for me. Remember that
that this was no bold crime of mine at the beginning;
that my vanity was flattered, my feelings and tastes
studied ; and that while listening innocently, as I sup
posed, I was lending an ear to wha- has forever, I fear,
destroyed my peace of mind. Oh, that I could retrace
my steps 1”
The Oysteman in Process of
Development.
New York, April the 6,1851.
To the Editor of the Sunday Dispatch:
Mb. Editur— Deer sur: I spose you’ve bin a little
supprfeed in not heerin’ from me for so long a time,
but the fact is I’ve bin a studyin so much slnse I rit
to you last that I ain’t had no time to take a pen in
to my hand, and even now my head is so full of new
ideas wot I’m bin a gatherin’ that they've all melted
up together by the heat of my brane like a keg of
nails in the_ burnt up ruins ofa hardware store, pad I
can’t part ’em, so as to git ’em out one at a time.
The fact is, I've bin converted from bein’ a old fogy
least wise I'm afeared I have, for Si Slooumb, a friend
of mine wot knows a good deal, has told me so, and
he’s made me feel werry disagreeable indeed by tho
information. You see, I’ll tell you how it was. Si
is an old crony of mine. We driv a i’ster wagon to
gether thirty-year age, and then we was jist alike in
our way o’ ihinkin’ ’bout a’mest everything, though
I must admit that Si alters got the best of me in a
ergnment. Well, «bout twenty j-.-.r ago, Si clSarod
out, and went away down South to drive niggers oa
a plantation, I telieve. He offered to git me a sitti
wation at the same business, but I did’nt fancy the
occerpatiqn myself, and woulcPat go, so he sold out
his share in the nag and wagon to me, and sloped.
I never laid eyes on him from that time till about
thiee weeks ago, when one day there comes a knock
at the door, wieh the old woman ansered, and I heard
a woice inquire: “Does Mr. Isaac Hiler live here?”
The minit I heard the woice I was satisfied that I’d
bin acquainted with tbe owner of it at some time or
other, sol. got up out’er my old leather cheer, wot
I was smokin’ my pipe in, and goin’ to the head ’o
the stairs, I sung out, “Show tbe gen’leman up,
Nance, my gal and let's see vot he vants.” So up he
cums— walks inter the room—fetches himself to a an
chor inter the old woman’s rockin’ cheer—cocks one
leg over the other—places, his elbows on his knees—
rests his chin onto the pams of his two hands—and
takes a good long stare, fust at, me, then'at Nance,
and then at the babby. I made up my mind at wanst
that I was mistakened about knowiu’ his woice, for
he did’nt bear no resemblance to any person wot I’d
ever bin acquainted with. You couldkit hardly see
bis face for the hair onto and around it—his mustaeh
ers and beard was all growed ih together, and hung
away down. onto his bosom, and the hair of his hed
locked as if it had'nt bin cut sinse he wore long close
—his eyes looked werry wild like and was a good deal
sunk inter his hed, wish was covered with a kind of
Cowshoot bat wot had evidently seed better days,
and his wardrobe looked considerable scaly, and had
tbeS’peaiance of having bin hung onto his carcase to
dry, fir he was werry lean, add ’maphyated, and hun
gry lookin.’
When I thort he’d looked at us long enough, I ses,
see I, “ It's altogether likely, my Iriend, that whan you
see any of us agin, you’ll know us.” “ Know yer
now,” ses be, quite quick and short-like—“ Isaac
Hiler, oysterman—never will be anything else without
mental culture—Nancy Hiler, wife, no germ of intel
lect to operate upon, consequently always must re
main the same—and baby Hiler—let me see,” sea te,
as be got up suddintly, lugged the baby out ’er cradle
where it was a layin’and begun to finger its head,
“ and baby Hiler,” he was about goin’ on, when he
was brought up all standin’ by Nancy, who grabb-.d
the baby out ’er bis arms and Bed, “ Look-at-here, Mr.
Hairyface, you may say wot ever you’re a mind to, to
tbe old man and me, if he’s a mind’to stand it, but if
jou go making any insulting remarks about this bab
by, or. tumblin’ around its head in that way, you’ll
catch it,.l tell yer now.” The man didn’t pay no fur
ther ’tentien to her, but fixed his gaze onto me again,
and ses—“ You aint altered a bit—more’s the pity—
same as ycu was thirty years ago—time you had a so’al
above oysters—look at me 1” “lam a lookin’ at yer,”
ses I, “ lookin' at yer amazin sharp—but if I know
what to make out of yer I’m a tea-not!” “Of course
not,” ses he, without takin’ his eyes off ’er me—“ of
course net—how should you ?—great difT'renee—oa
another plane—developed here (and he put his hand
on top of bis head)—developed here (and he laid his
Maud onto tbe place where bis heart ought to be)
developed all over—tell you what it is, Isaac, you’re an
cld fogy, you mustn’t be so any longer—you must be
one of us—progress, progress 1” “ Now, Ike,” ses
Nance, whose rage farely biled over at this pint,“am
you gom’to.stand that feller callin’you names? If
you am, I ain't—and if you don’t put him out right
away, I will, so there, now.” “ Progress, progress 1”
ses the feller, agin; and by this time I begun to feel a
little wolfish myself, and ses I, “ Well, stranger, I
b'lieve inter that ’ere doctrine myself, and I want you
to make progress out o’ this house as fast as possible,”
and I prated towards the door. “ Musn’t get excited,”
sea he, without movin’ a peg, “ nothing more injurious
—destroys the harmony of thought—must keep cool,
sir—subdued, tranquil—l keep so ; didn’t use to, but
I’ve altered—altered in name, altered in nature, alter
ed m appearance, altered in profession : when I was
on your plane my name was Silas Slocum, now it is
biother Azael; then I was an oysterman—an associate
ot jours ; now I am an attache of the Angel Gabriel;
then I was full of flesh and the devil, now I am physi
cally attenuated and full of grace I’’ I never was more
supprised in my life than I was when be told me who
he was, and for a minit I could hardly b'lieve my
senses, when I did manage to find my tongue, however,
ali the association wot I’d had with'him in old times,
rushed inter my mind, and springin’ towards him, I
grabbed his band and nearly shook it off. as I sung
cut, “ Wjiy, Si, how are you, old stockin’, and wot am
you bin about ever sense I seed you last ?” “ Hush I”
ses he, patting his finger onto his lip, “ hus h-h-h-h h!
don’t get excited—subdue yourseli—long story—tell
ycu as we go along—little at a time—not all at once—
be patient—send my trunk Up here to-morrow—fetch
tbe Angel up here the next dpy—stay a couple of
months with you—know you’ve got room—tell you all
about it—develop you same as I’m developed— want
to go to bed now—don’t answer—hu-s-h-h-h h1” And
after he’d finished speaking not another word could I
git out ’er him that night, for all he did was to sit in
this chair with his face towards the back of-it—his
chm resting on the cross-piece, and sigh, aud
groan, and roll his eyes around, till by’ms by I got
tired out, and tuk a candle, and lit him to bed. After
he’d turned in I went back inter the room where Mrs.
Hiler,(who hadn’t said a word after she found out who
the visitor was,) was a siftin' with tbe babby on her
lap, but as the doer was opin and I was in my stockin’
feet, she didn’t hear me when I entered, and I heard
her a mutterin’ to herself, “ ’Veloped same as he is,
eh ? I hope not, I’m sure I hope not—if Ike gits to
be sich a. ugly lookin’ brute as he is, I won’t sleep with
him, that’s all about it; ’veloped, eb ? It’s my opinion
if be was wolloped smartly it wouldn’t do him any
harm, and if he ’tempts to bamboozle my Ike, he’ll git
wolloped, too, cr there’s no vartue in ladles!”
But, Mr. Editor, it would be unpossible for me to tell
yer the whole story this week,-and I’ll have to finish it
in another letter. So good-bye for the present, and
believe me, Yours in a subdued frame of mind,
Ike Hiler, the I’steb Man.
Sarah Bishop
The I-lermitess of Westchester,
In the county of Westchester, upon the South ridge
of Long Pond Mountain, is situated the cave of Sarah
Bishop, the hermitess.
“ Amidst the savage landscape, bleak and bare,
Stands the chill hermitage, in mountain, rock and air,
Its haunts forsaken, and its feasts forgot—
A leaf strewn, lonely, desolated cot.”
The following account of a visit to the hermitess is
taken from a newspaper printed at Poughkeepsie in
1804
“ Yesterday I went in company of two captain Smiths
of this town, to the mountain, to visit the hermitage. As
you pass the southern aod elevated ridge or the mountain
and begin to 'descend the southern steep, you meet with
a perpendicular descent of a rock, in the front of which
there is this cave. At the foot of tho rook is a gentle
descent of rich and fertile ground, extending about ten
reds, when it instantly forms a frightful precipice, des
cending half a mile to the pond called Lang Porni. In the
front of the rock on the north, where the cave is, and
level Trith the grourd, there appears a frustum of
the rock, of a double fathom in out by some
unknown convulsion of nature, and lying in front of the
cavity from which it was rent, partly enclosing the mouth
and forming a cover. ’ The rock is left entire above, and
forms the roof of the humble mansion. This cavity is
the habitation of the hermiters, in which she has passed
tbe best-ot her years, excluded from all society. She
keeps no domestic animal, net even fowl, cat or dog. Her
little plantation, consisiing of half an acre, is cleared of
its wood and reduced to grass, where she has raised a few
peach.trees, and yearly plants a few hills of beans, cu
cumbers and potatoes. Ths whole is surrounded by a
luxuriant grape vine, which overspreads the surround
ing wood, ard is very productive. On the opposite
tide of this little tenement is a fine fountain of excel
lent water. At this fountain we found the won
derful woman, whose appearance it is a little difficult to
describe. Indeed, like nature in its first state, she was
without form ; her dress appeared little else than one
confused and shapeless mass of rags, patched together
without any oidi-r, which obscured ali human shape,
excepting her head, which was clothed with a luxuriancy
of rank, gray hair, depending on every sice as time bad
formed it, without any covering or ornament. When she
discovered our approach, she exhibited the appearance of
a wildland timid animal. She started and hastened to
her cave, wbieh she entered and b&rricadoed theentraace
with old shells pulled from the decayed trees. We ap
proached this humble habitation, and after some conver
sation with its inmate, obtained liberty to remove the
pallisades and look in, for we were not able to eater, the
room being only sufficient to accommodate one person.
We saw i o utensil either for labor or cooking, save an old
pswter and a gourd shell; no bed but the solid
rock, unless it were a few old rags scattered here and
there; no bed clothes of any kind; nor the least appear
ance of food cr fire. She had, iedeed, a place in one
corssrof her cell where afire had at sometime been
kindled, but it did rot appear there had been one for
Feme menths- To confirm this, a gentleman says he
passed her cell five or six days after the great fall of snow
in the beginning of March; that she had no fire then, aid
not been out of her cave since the sdow had fallen. How
She subsists durirg the revere season is yet a mystery.
She says she eats but little flesh of any kind; in the sum
mer she lives on berries, nuts and roots. We conversed
with her for Eome time, found her to be of a sound
mind, of a religious turn of thought and entirely happy
in her situation. Of tliis she has given repeated proofs,
by refusing to quit this dreary abode. She keeps 9. bible
with her, and says ehe takes much satisfaction and
spends much time in reading it.”
In 1810, she was killed by falling'into a pit. A sum
of money was found in her cave, sufficient to pay her
funeral expenses. This hermitess is reported to have
been a resident of Long Island at the period of the
Revolution, where she saw the destraction of her pater
nal mansion, and suffered great cruelty at the hands of
a British officer, which finally induced her to abandon
society altogether, and seek an abode in a solitary
cave. Soon after her settlement, the hermitess pur
chased the cave and three acres of land adjoining.
The southern view from tbe cave affords a splendid
prospect of forty-five miles in extent, terminated by
Long Island.
Attention, Foreigners.
“ Webster, Jr.,” author of the Young American Dic
tionary, desires to announce to the public his intention
of delivering, at an early day, a course of Lectures
upon Lexicographical Affinities.
I’KOGBAMJIE OF THE FIRST LECTURE : '
Affinities of rocks and rockers— a great nutmeg
and a nutmeg grater— A door aud adorer — an ache and
an acre— bats, batterer and batteries— butts, butters and
butteries— black tails and black tailors—a box and a
boxer— aboard and a boarder—bits and bitters—a halt
and a halter— seeing a ship and shipping a sea—licks
and liquors— the Maine law, the main chance, and the
mane of a mare— pike and pica —boils and boilers—
cashier and cash nowhere—a bullet-in and « bull let out
—the size of a heart and the sighs from a heart—corn
aches, acorns and rum corns—a mist and a master—a
doll and a dollar —a din and q dinner— the toll of a bell
and the toll of a turnpike—tbe slope of a lawn and the
slope of a debtor— bolting d door, bolting a meal, and
boiling flour— ilurrent LOteS and currant yies—signs
of peace end pieces of signs— letters of marque and
marks of letters— poached eggs and poached game—
flour barrels and flower pots—a pipe of wine, a pipe
of tobacco, and a piper of peace— a nap on a broad
cloth and a nap on a couch—a monk and a monkey—
—a bend and a bender—a brake and a breaker— a
“ broth of a boy” and a “brother of a b’hoy”—a caveat
and a cave-in—a causeway and a cause why.
If proper encouragement is given, Prof. “Webster”
will no doubt extend his labors in this interesting field.
Subscription books are now open. The Lectures will
be delivered in the Park. Early application should be
made to secure desirable seats. N. BWe are partic
ularly requested to say that there will bo no postpone
ment bn aoooont of the weather.
PRICE FOCR CENTS.
©nr fcrtfdw.
Need or Fbksh Air.—The importance of
the following extract from Dr. Hunter will, perhaps, be
generally confessed, but how many will act upon it ? How
long will people insist on smothering themselves, for “fear
of the night air,” to say nothing of those who shut out
the pure atmosphere from their apartment in the Any
time—who neglect to ventilate churches and other public
halls. Particularly should our school-rooms be attended
to. In Massachusetts, children are compelled by law to
go to school! Forced there to be murdered by foul air I
So much for this 'free and enlightened country I” “The
changes which take place in the lungs are, as I have said,
produced by th© presence in them of a matter to which
tljename tubercle has been given, and which matter, I
have also observed, is secreted from the blood. Nor/, if
tubercle is the cause of consumption, what is the cause
of,tubercle? Why is this substance formed in the blood ?
These are questions that have been frequently asked, but
never, I believe, as yet satisfactorily answered. Yet this
is the very fountain of the evil. Until correct views
are entertained on this subject, whatever success
nay attend the treatment ot consumption in indi
viduate, we cannot hope to diminish its prevalence.
. In my opinion, there is but one great cause of tubercle,
and that cause is a deficient supply of pure air to the lungs.
This deficient supply may be caused by the most dissimi
lar influences. Persons employed in sedentary occupa
tions, and those compelled to keep the chest bent for
ward. restraining its movements—tailors, shoemakers
I r,r>d clsa'hs—fi€ GfejiQvlou.s to cousarop
tion. 'These and similar occupations not only confine the
chest, but they also expose the system to other injurious
influences, to the want of bodily exercise, and to the nox
ious effects of impure air. Exercise is necessary to assim
ilation of nutriment, and without it there can be no vig
orous health. Impure air alone will brtng on consumption
in the soundest constitution! The oxygen of the air we
breathe regulates our appetite, and, to the weight of a
grain, the nutriment that is built up in the system. The
chyle undergoes its last vital change in the lungs, and
that change depends on the perfect performance of respi
ration, and on a sufficient supply of pure air. When res
piration is obotructed by disease, the appetite fails, and
the body wastes away. When the air breathed is impure,
the same thing takes place ; the face Becomes thin and
pale, '.he features sharp, the respii&tion hurried, and the
appetite poor. Persons to afflicted all die of consump
tion, No constitution is proof against this influence.
The strong man, who has inherited a fo.ll development of
the chest, may possibly bear up under it for a longer
time than the feeble scion of a consumptive family ; but
he, too, will fall in the end, from the same disease, char
acterized by the same stages and symptoms, and arising
from the same cause. To thsse hereditarily predisposed
I would say ; do not despair because your parents, or
brothers, or sisters, or other kindred, on either side, have
fallen a prey to consumption. If your frame is delicate,
and your chest small, seek the open air and regul.tr exer
cise Observe what nature requires ;be faithful to her
demands, and you may live to bury half the strong men
of your acquaintance.”
Soldier’s Pensions.—At the request of one
of that body of men who went with General Scott to the
City of Mexico, we tranfer from “a morning paper,” the
substance of a communication on a matter now before
Congress. The ease appears to be so well stated that it is
unnecessary for us to say a word on the subject:—“lt
will be seen by reference to a recent debate in Congress
that Mr. Dent, from Georgia, has introduced in the Houie
of Representatives ( a bill to regulate and define the du
ties of Commissioners of Pensions, in certain cases? The
object of this bill, by the gentleman from
Georgia, is to cut off from the pension list all the old sol
diers who served in the war .of 1812 and the Mexican war,
except those whose wounds yet totally disable them from
any sort of labor. [This is the suggestion of Mr. Waldo,
Commissioner of Pensions, to prevent fraud ] It occurs
to me, Mr. Editor, that the saving sought to ba effected
by this bill is of a very mean and un American character.
The country will repuciate it. It savors of that kiud of
economy which would save at the spiggot what runs out
at the bunghcle. What kind of policy is that which al
lows millions of fiollara annually to be abstracted from
the public treasury by fraud and scheming, while the men
who have bcrne their country’s flag untarnished through
fields of carnage, are to he deprived ot the miserable pit
tanee they now receive from government? Yea, ‘to ba
deprived,’ unless they can produce a certificate from two
d< ctors that they are still unable to rise from & bed of
sickness. The bill before Congress amounts to that. The
writer of this communication has been through the entire
Mexican war, where he has, besides being wounded, con
tracted the seeds of a disease which will follow him to the
day of his death, and which has enfeebled his constitu
tion ; yet, by the terms of Mr. Dent’s bill, [whose object
is, of course, the public interest, J he must relinquish his
pension of a few dollars a month, because he is able to
w alk about without going on crutche*. His case is that
I of hundreds. No wonder that Col. Bissell, who knew by
I actual service in Mexico what that campaign was, and Mr.
Wentworth, of Illinois, should indignantly protest against
the passage of an act fraught with such ingratitude and
injustice to the poor old soldier. It is indeed, at the best,
but a sorry compensation of which Mr. Dent intends to
deprive us. But, if it were not f6r the paternal solicitude
of that illustrious and warm-hearted o:d chief.ain, Gen.
Scott, who has been at all times instrumental in provid
ing- places for many of his old soldiers, it would fare hard
with those who have perilled life and limb in the service
of their country.”
Strike of the Factory Girls at Lewiston,
Me.— The female operatives in the factories at Lewiston,
Me., recently struck against working more than eloven
hours’a day. They stopped work, formed a procession,
and marched to a large hall, where they organised a meet
ing, and proceeded to discuss their grievances, which they
did in & manner which must have convinced their
employers of the j uatice of their cause. One of the young
ladies, a Miss Sarah Wilson, who was chosen to preside
over the meeting, delivered an address, which, although
destitute of rhetorical flourishes and flowers of speech,
was still replete with natural eloquence, and showed that
the speaker felt what she uttered. She said, “Tt has been
charged that I have backed out of this movement, out I
have not done that—on the contrary, I told the overseer
that I was willbig to back up any one who would push it
ahead. What if we do stay out a fortnight, and pay our
board? lam willing to sign my name to it a hundred
timjs, if it will do any good. I have a father’s house to
go io; I have a sister’s, and brother’s; and I can go to
other places. But lam willing to stay out four wesks,
vand to divide my last cent with my factory girls. It is
not the money that I look at. I have had good pay. I
should be receiving extrx pay in the spring. It would
have been much better for me to have held my tongue,
as far as regards money matters. But that is not what I
look at. I consider the rest of tne girls. I consider the
rising generation ; and want to sea them have their
rights.” This is a sort of woman’s rights which we can
unceretand. It carries conviction upon the face of it,
azd needs no special pleading to make its justice apu'a
i rent. We hope the Maine girls will carry their point. ”
A Pbcgrksbiye Editor.—Everybody must
admire the genius and enterprize of the editor of the
Southern Sun, published at Kospiusko, Miss., who in an
address to his subscribers, thus enlarges upon the hercu
lean efforts which he intends making for their future
benefit: “ About thirteen weeks from th© present time,
sooner or later, we design commencing the fifth volume
of the Southern Sun, and, in order to keep up with the
numerous improvements of the day, we would state, for
the information of our patrons, that we have, at an enor
mous outlay of sweat, &c., secured the services of three
hundred journeymen Dutch printers, fresh from the sod
of Germany, all of whom come to us well recommended
and stand ready to execute all orders in their line. So
our German friends can just hand in their cards, blanks,
bill heads, posters, &c , as fast as they please, with the
assurance that they will all be properly attended tn
staron. Yah! oh Yah! At a no less diab ar seme nt of
sweat, gas, &c., we have bought up all the type and etn
lloyedail ihe printers in France. In future, therefore,
all*French publications must necessarily emanate from
he Sun office. Oui, Monsieur. In addition to the above,
we are now making some important negotiations
man-in-the moon; and when we have completed the afore
:■ aid, we shall be able to accommodate all those who may
< esire any sort of printing from the most delicate card
io the mammoth poster; and shall “unfurl to the breeze”
a sheet rot only “ equal to any country paper in the
: tate,” but as “long as the moral law,” as “broad as the
universe,” and as full of gas as Young America is of
j c emagogues. Vive la humbug!
R eart-Rending A??air.—A correspond:
. ent of the Ckaveland Leader relates the following mel
i archoly occuj enccs, which took place in Waupacaa coun
, ty, Wisconsin. A farmer sold a yoke of oxen to an Indi
, vidual in the neighborhood, and received his pay in paper
I money. The man who purchased the oxen, being in a
j hurry to start off, requested the farmer to assist him in
■ yoking them up. He accordingly went to the yard with
1 the man for that purpose, leaving the money lying on.
i the table. On his return to the house, he found his
! little child bad taken the meney from the table, and was
I in the act of kindling the fire ia the stove with it. From
i the impulse of the moment, he hit the child a slap on
j the side of the head, so hard as to knock it over; and,
in the fall, it struck its head against the stove with such
force as to break its skull. The mother, who was in the
act of wishing a small child in a tub of water, in an ad
joining room, on hearing the fracas, dropped the child,
and ran to the room from whetfee the noisrf proceed*d—
and was sfo much terrified at what she there beheld,
that she forgot the little child in the tab for a time, and
' upen her return to the room found the little one drowu
> eci I Jhe husband, altar reviewing the scene before him,
i seeing two of his own children dead, without farther re-
■ flection, took down his gun and blew hig own brains oat!
A Beautiful Fact in Natural History.
| The researches cf scientific men have shown that some
' sptcies of Crustacea, including, among others, the ordi- i
nary barnacles which infest the bottom of oa. r ships, al
though blind, fixed and helpless as they appear to us,
are in their period of youth, active, sharp sighted little
creatures, shaped somewhat like our water flea, with
long antenna, which are provided with cups at their ex
tramities. Having passed the period of youth, they be
gin to think of settling down steadily in some chosen
spot for the remainder of their life. By means of suck
lug cups they adhere to some fixed floating body. In
this position a long hump grows out of their Backs, from
the end of which a sticky fluid is poured out, which’glues
them firmly to the object to which they have attached,
themselves. The functions of taair sucking cups are
thus rendered useless, and the little animal glides down
the-dsclining days of its little ttream of life in quiet,
ybcid, contei’.ed enjoyment of a new phase of existeaea.
“ Dollars and Dimes.”—The following ex
tract from the discourse cf a minister in Scotland lately,
means a great deal. “ The race of this age after riches,”
said be, “is not a healthy race, but a maddening rush.
It is like a rush to a breach—to a breach in the Citadel
Mammon—with its defences of thick competition—
mounds cf bankruptcy—and files of bad debts, —besieged
by a magazine of capital, large guns for wholesale, and
email guns for retail. The sole object is U> be up at-the
breach first. Nevermind your neighbor—hit him on tue
face—shut up his eyes—or dote his mouth—if he’s down
keep him down,-or sink him lower—plant your heel
mouth—it doesn’t signify—it’s all game—sll a fair spec
ulation—the thing is to mount the breach—honestly, if
you can—but mount at any rate, though you use your
friends as stepping stones—end when you have mounted
—plant your flag, look round with complacent benignity,
and cay you’re a rich man.”
A New and Interesting Game—Card
playing is hereafter to be made an interesting and useful
game. D. McCombs, of Memphis, Tennessee, has davieed
a game by which, instead of dollars, knowledge is gained.
There are two different colored packs, each containing
133 cards. On one pack are questions, and on the other
the answers. The subject is the science of astronomy.
Certain rules of the game are established, which are suffi
ciently complicated to give it an interest; while the men
tal faculties are kt-pt “ wide awake ” to prevent being
beaten. Those who have played the game become in
tensely interested in it. But the excellence of the inven
tion is, that vhile the game will afford occupatien for a
Focial circle for hours, it at the same time imparts and
fixes id the memory an amount of rcientific knowledge
which it would take months of reading and study to im
part.
Elevated Iron Railway to the. Pacific.—
Henry Smith, a young farmer of Michigan, has originated
a novel invention for a Railroad to the Pacific. The track
is to be supported on iron pillars connected by trusses
well-braced, and of sufficient strength to support the
heaviest train of cars, and as ihe body of the car is sus
pended rather than resting above the wheels, they can be
m&de much larger than they now are, and greater speed
attained, while the elevation of the track places it out of
the way of all snow-banks, cattle, buffaloes, drunken
men, &c., and it would need no fencing, white the laud
beneath it could be cultivated. He proposes building the
Elevated Railway on an “air line” between New York
and San Francisco, and claims that we shall be within 4(3
hours of the Pacific! We do emphatically say, “Look
cut for the cars when the bell rings,” and almost feel the
necessity of steaming up ourselves to keep up with the
“spirit cf the age.”
Uriah Wiggin.—There is a brook rear the
flaughter-house of Uriah Wiggin, in Dover, N. H , and
the following encounter, according to the Gazette, was
waged on the premises : A rat came down to the brook
to drink, and discovering a frog,- “with force and arms’’
made an attack upon him, by making a flrm grasp with
hjfl teeta; no sooner did the rat make his hold, than the
frog plunged into the water, dr*gg io U antagonist with
him, where he remained until the rat was compelled to
let go, and made for dry land, closely pursued by the
frog. As soon as the frog appeared above water, he was
again attacked by the rat. and a second time the latter
became the subject for cold-water bathing. This feat was
several times performed, until the rat, from exhaustion
and drowning, fell a prey. After the frog became assured
that his antagonist was dead, he seated himself upon his
carcass, with all the complaisance imaginable, where ho
remained for half an hour, exulting over his hard won
victory.
“The Editor.”—The Richmond (Va.) Mail
throws off the following capital illustration“ They have,
a steamboat in the western waters by the name of The
Editor. .Tkis is the best name ever yet given to & steam
boat, and more especially to a Mississippi steamboat. We •
are surprised it has never been thought of before. The
editor is a working engine, whose fires are going day and
night. Now he sails against the tide, and now with it,
going along,at a dashing rate, until suddenly he comes
up, all standing, against some hidden snag, which nearly
shivers his timbers to pieces. Whenever he he
puts the waters in agitation for a time, and leaves a wake
‘ of troubled waves behind him, which lasts about five min
utes. He selves,everybody but himself, carries freight
and passengers in any quantity, aud goes pup-—puffing
down the stream ©f life. Often his powers are overtask
ed, and the boiler bursts, hut fortunately it kills no one
but himself, and who cares for an editor ?”
Mr. John Mitchell and the Irish Con
federates.—A Society known as the Irish Confederation
met a short time since in London and adopted the follow
ing, amongst other resolutions :—“ Proposed by Mr. Peter
Johnston, and seconded by Mr. Edward Forsman, Re
solved, ‘ That the Secretary be directed to take immediate
measures to announce to the Confederates of Ireland tha
a provisional committee is formed for the purpose of as
certaining their opinion upon the sentiments relative to
negro slavery enunciated by Mr. Mitchell in the Citi
zen newspaper, together with comments which have ap
peared in the English and American press, erroneously
attributing tuch sentiments to the Young Ireland party ;
that all confederates be invited to attend the
naittee, to express their opinions, and such as cannot at
tend to send theirs by letter ’ ”
Sandwich Islands.—These islands are look
ing up. A few years ago, there was on these isles of the
sea scarcely a house of European build. All the natives
lived in little tenements made of poles aud thatched,
while the floors were composed cf mats laid upon the
ground. Now, we perceive there are-extensive buildings,
and a fine block of brick fire-proof stores, also a new
building for a flourirg-mill. They expect to build wharves
ICO to 150 feet long, which will bring them into 20 feat
water, which is deep enough for most of the shipping at
Honolulu. They may thus transform the place, but we
much doubt that the inhabitants will ba any happier *
than they were in their former simple stile, before the
white man had invaded their shores and given them the
stiff formalities of his conventionalism for the freedom
end rative eaee of their previous life. All changa is not
improvement. . s
Fire on the Prairies.—lt is said that tha
consumption of weed on the prairies, in cold weather, in
the locomotives, is very much greater than among the
settlements or ia the timbered country, and the amount
of steam produced much less. A train will leave Detroit
with from twenty-five to thirty-five freight cars, and from
eighty to one hundred pounds of steam. As it nears Chi
cago, on the open prairie, the ste&m will fall gradually to
tteriy-five or forty peuuas ; aud the engine, tea,zing hftlf
its train, runs with the remainder to Chicago. So, put
an iron box stove on the top of one of the cars on the
prairie, let the fire burn intensely, and the surface of the
stove will not burn the hand laid upon.it Ic is a prob
lem, the solution of which would make the. fortune of aw
inventcr, how this very rapid loss of heat can be prevented.
Insupportable Suffering.—The Louisville
Journal states that during a recent trip cf the steamer
“Belle Key,” she took on board, at the mouth of Red
Rivei, a poor woman and three children, The father was
removing with his family from Indiana to Texas, and had
erected a temporary shed to await the arrival of a boat
bound up Red River. While the?e all were taken sici
with dysentery, and to increase their misfortune the bank
caved ?n and the father was drowned. Two of the*r chil
dren died, and the mother and the three remaining chil
dren were taken on beard the “Belle Key,” suffering with
ditease, and cn their arrival at Louisville, were sent to the
hospital. The passengers raised $55 for them.
Curious Calculation.—The editor of tha
Advocate, Claiborne, Li., has gone into a minute calcula
tion upon the value of one crop ®f acorns in that parish
—equivalent to our counties. He says that 1,890,000
pounds ofpork will be consumed here in the year 1854,
by the 15,900 inhabitants, and that the whole of it comes
from the crop cf acorns, and is worth the snug sum of
$90,000. Besides this he thinks an equal value has been
added 1o the stock'hogs. He thinks also that that p.ir- 4 - ■
ishfcrows $35,000 worth more cotton than it would if all ‘
the planters had to depend upon the corn crop for their
meat, so that the actual value of a crop of acorns is
$215,000.
One of the Items that go to Make Up
otr City Taxes.— The Comptroller, iu hit Annual Report,
ehows that by the operation of the present School Law.
the city paid $225,000 to the State last year, of which we
cnly received back $95,000, or in other words that the
city cf New York paid $130,000 for the enlightenment of
the rural districts. This is rather too much cf a good
ihirg, and we trust that it will not require much more
ight. io show the State Legislature the impropriety of
on tinning a system which compete us to pay more for
be education of the children of other parts of tha State,
han we do for the education of our own children. *
Disgusting Hypocrisy.—The Christian
Guardian, Methodist organ of Toronto, warns its readers
against laughter, or “jovial remarks,” as dangerous,
antiMethodestical and unbecoming the gravity of. “pro
fessors,” who should always be careful not to endanger
heir charecter for “seriousness.” The writer gives au
nStance of most lamer;‘able resuite consequent upon
he utterance of a “jevi&l remark,” but the detaite are
oo soul harrowing for publication. The man who per
sists in preserving an elongated visage under all circum- ,
stances shbuld be tickled to death by monkies trained
for the purpose.
The Comet.—Many persons in Boston saw
a comet on Wednesday evening, at about 7X o’clock, ap
pearing in the same quarter cf the heavens where that of
last year was seen. It has been observed frsm many
parts cf the Northern States. It is thus described by one
writer —“When I first saw it, at 7}£ P. M f its altituda
above the horizon was ten or twelve degrees, and its bear
ing a httlo to the west of northwest. Notwithstanding a
pretty strong twilight, it appeared quit© bright; t> tha
naked eye, with a tail somewhat brusny, and four or five
degrees in length. With a good common spy-glusa, this
nucleus was very distinct, aud pretty well defined.
A Contradiction.—Bayard Taylor states
ttthere are two missionary /schools at Calcutta under
the patronage of the Church of Scotland, in each of which,
there are more than a thousand pupils, and that he be
lieves they have not made one convert. A correspondent
of the 2yi&wwe denies this statement ia so far as to t.ay
that in both eebcote many converts have been made.
Some of the converts are said to be eminent men, preach
ers full cf grace and of high talent and distinguished
attainments.
Ingratitude of French Manufacturers.
—Two nieces of Jacquard, the well known inventor of tue
leem which bears hisinnma, beiaj s: rap.-.llvfl, by poverty,
to offer for sale the Gold Medal bestowed by Louis XVIH,
on their uncle, the Chamber of Commerce of Lyons, hear
ing of the circurnttance, purchased it for £24, £4 more
than the intrinsic value ol the gold, which was all that
yas asked for it. Such—says a French Journal—is the
ingratitude of the manufacturing interest of Lyons, to a
> man to whom it owes so large a portion of ite
Fanny Fern, in a note to the Tribune,
disavows any relationship with Mr. YVillte, of the Zicww
Journal, or anybody else. She states that several years
since, by a “sudden reverse of fortune, she was deprived
of all relatives.” Fanny don’t say they are dead, mind
you, but that the reverse of fortune she refers to put her
adrift to get along as best she might, and as sha ha,g sud
denly became famous and rich r.y her own genius, we sup
pose she means to continue the non-intercourae.
A Relic.— a. piece of mica taken from a
skeleton exhumed from a mound near Short Creek, Oaio,
bears on it an inscription dated 1587. It is in English,
and commemorates some deed of au Indian named Trem
nede, who died to save the lives of William Welch, and
family. The cate carries us back to a period 150 years
prior to the fiibt known ol, tnat region of
country, and but 95 years after the discovery ,oi tne
counti y by Columbus.
Sudden Death l . —John B. Meachard, a col* •
ored preacher, fell dead in the pulpit in St. Lente, while
re&dirg his text, He was formerly a 4 **
but was set free and went to St. Lou's, whebe at one time
he was at the head of a lar»® coope icg establishment,
and next tn extend-*'® m real estate, and owner of
n c-inQunt of ste&mbeat stock. But for reverses of
iortin e, it is supposed he would have left his family
$300,C00 or $400,000. As it is, he leaves them a com
fortable fortune.
An Interesting Fact.—Burning flaid, or
Spirit-gas, is a mixture of camphene and distilled turpen
tine, with afi much alcohol as it will take up. This article •
will not really explode, though it will burn fiercely, and
if a quantity in a temp becomes fired, the temp or"vessel
may be exploded by the heat. Phosgene is made by re
distilling the burning fluid, which produces a very clear
volatile fluid.
I here are some characters among the
beef eaters of England. Not long since the Roy al Humane
Society offered a fisherman named Thomas Atherell a
broxze medal for saving a fellow man from drowning un
der v<ry trying circumstances. After carefully examin
ing the medal, Mr Atherell returned it, with tha remark,
that h© could get “quite as good a one for a penny I”
S®’- A medical’writer sajs: Children should
sleep in the middle of the day till they are six years of
age, and never sit up beyond an early hour in the even
ing. They require better foed, more cf it, and mors fee
quently, thau is supposed by many, though they should
never taste fermented drinks, except as medictee.
/
The Farmer says that in that
region the past winter has been more severe than any of
its predecessors since 1790. A scarlet nosed in iividual on
reading this item the other cay, gave it as his opinion,
that it was a judgment cn the State for enacting the M;.ine
Law. He thinks that people who pass Blue Laws ought
to be compelled to suffer with blue noses.
■ 1
Advertising in France.—The Echo du Pa
cifique, published at San Francisco, advertised itself quite
conspicuously recently, in the Debats. It recommended
its columns to French leaders, as containing all the Pa
cific news of interest in France. This is the first lascance
of ti e advertisement of a Californian paper in a Paris
journal.
The Numerical Strength of 'the Tribe
of Judah.— lt is statedxthat the whole number of Jews
in England is only 30,000 —200,000 of whom are located iu
London. Russia contains ten millions and a quarter,
Constantinople 80,000, and Inaia 17,000. It is ateu stated
ihat, out of the 20,000 in London, 2,000 are baptized
Christiana.
The Dauphin.—Eleazar Williams—supposed
by some to be the missing Dauphin of France—preached
a missionary sermon at Philadelphia on Sunday mor <mg,
twe weeks Had it been generally knuwn that ro-alty
was in the pufp:t, it is suppo.-ed that a v*sc concourse of
people would have been assembled cn the occasion.
The fobaebn Ojslb cf ihe heart is genet
ally closed seen after birth, but some persons have the
foramen ovale remaining open all the r lives, ana uch
per?ons could net le crowned, because, when the lungs
cease to p ay, the bleed will neverthtl-ss, continue to
circulate, just as it floes in a foetus in the wome.
The First Vessel.—A vessel of 30 tons
burthen, called the Virginis, was the first specimen of
ship building in New England. She was built at the
mouth of the Kennebec river by the companrof forty
five men, who, in that year, were sent froiu England to
the Plymouth Company.
Superstition.—Witches were put to death
in Eng’and twenty-nine years after tha witch mania had
subsided in this country. Tfle first witch hung in New
England was Mary Johnson. She was executed at Ha.t
fora early in the year 1647.
The Beechers.— When .the Rev. Dr. Todd
was ai-ked hte opinion of Elward Baecher’s “Conflict of
Ages,” he made answer that he had concluded there were
three sets of people in this world—saiats, sinners, and the
Beecher family.
Small Business.—A French soldier gets
9 1-2 cts. per day, which supplies him with food, and
leave I 2 cents for pocket money. With the exception of
the Indian who preached for ten dollars a year, this is
about the poorest business that we have heard of.
Sales of Real Estate.—The Evehin'g Post
informs us that Real Estate to the amount, of $2 766,149
changed hands ix this city during the month of March,
During the past seven months the sales of Real Estate
amount to $7,299,970.
— v
Important Invention.—A well known .
French gUßsmith, D>virme, has invented a new kind of
powder, which explodes when dry or moist, coats less,
and is made more rapidly than the ordinary powder.
A Prolific Loo.—A log was split open in
Lee county, Georgia, not long sinoe, in which were
found twenty-eight full grown rattlesnakes.
Cruelty to Mules.—A man named Pen
nington has been held to bail for cruelty to mules on the
Pennsylvania Railroad.
A Cold Business.—lt appears that 270,.
000 tons of ice have been housed in Boston daring tha
past wii« ter.

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