The New Hampshire gazette and Republican union. [volume], October 26, 1847, Image 1

About The New Hampshire gazette and Republican union. [volume] (Portsmouth, N.H.) 1847-1852

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e L D
By WILLIAM P. HILL.
THEGAZETTE & UNION
18 PUBLISHED WEEKLY, AT
No. 3 PLEASANT STREET,
PORTSMOUTH, N. H.
Trzaue.—sl,2s per annum when the subscription is paid in ad
m‘)} 81,50 if paid before a year expires. If a year from the
time of subscribing is suffered to expire, the proprietor will re
serve to himself the right to charge g,oo per annum, with inter
€st after, in order to defray the expense of sending out an agent,
or employing legal measures, to collect arrearages. Those sub
scribers residing in Portsmoux}l, who receive their papers through
carriers, will be charged 25 cents in addition to the above terms of
IG ADVERTISEMENTS inserted three weeks for £I,OO per square
(which comprises 10 lines of non-pareil type.) For each addi
tional insertion, 20 cents per square. For 5 lines or less, one in
sertion, 50 cents. For more than 5 and less than 10 lines, 10
cents per line will be charged for the first insertion, and 2 cents
fil‘ line for every subsequent insertion. A liberal discount will
made to those who advertise permanently. -
= Nofipl:pr'dnbedheonfinned until all arrearages mpfld,
ugm publisher’s option. " |
: JoB WoORE cxecuted with neatness and despatch at this
OIS, -~ i T e ; |
5™ All communications must be addressed, postage paid, to
the publisher at Portsmouth. . ‘
ROCKINGHAM FARMERS' MUTUAL
FIRE INSURANCE COMPANY.
NOTXCE is hereby given, that for the payment of
losses by fire from May 14, 1845, to June 9, 1847,
the Directors have ordered the following assessment on
the Premium Notes, payable on the 10th day of August
next.
On Notes dated before June 30, 1845, and
not expired 3 1-2 perct.
% dated on or after June 30, and i
before Nov. 18, 1845, 3 ¢
" dated on or after Nov. 18, 1845,
and before Jan. 28, 1846, 12 ©
. dated on or after Jan. 28, and
before June 13, 1846, -4 %
ot dated on or after June 13, and
before Sept. 16, 1846, e a 2
“ dated on or after Sept. 16, 1846,
and before April 14, 1847, 3-4 ¢«
- dated on or after April 15, and
before May 11, 1847, 1-2
All notes expired in the intermediate time will be
assessed for their due proportion of losses.
Agents will be appointed to call upon the members
and receive the same. WM. P. MOULTON,
Exeter July 15, 1847. Treasurer
LIVERY ESTABLISHMENT.
JB. TILTON would inform his friends that he has
taken the Stable in the rear of the Rockingham House,
recenily occupied by Mr Laws, purchased the Stock,
and will accommodate former patrons and all who may
favor him with a call.
N. B. In connexion with the above,J. B. T.has a
Cab n readiness, at all hours of the day, for the Cars
and to any compact part of the town for 12 1-2 cents.
June 1.
FALL AND WINTER GOODS.
D .L.STOVER, No. 9, Congress Street
HAS on hand and for sale cheap for cash, Ready
Made Clothing consisting of the following articles:
Dress and Frock Coats; Over Coats; Tweed Coats
and Sattinett Coats; Broadcloth, Cassimere. Sattinet
Doeskin and Fancy Pants. Green Jackets, Gurnsey
Frocks, Overalls; Velvet, Satin, Cloth, Cashmere &
Valentia VESTS. Shirts, Draws, Bosoms, Collars,
Stocks, Hdks, Suspenders, Scarfs, Umbrellas, Gloves,
&e. &e.
Also constantly on hand a good assortment of Broad
Cloths, Cassimeres. Doeskins, Sattinets, T'weeds, Vest
ings of all kinds and Beavers which will be made to
Orgscr at the shortest notice and at the smallest prices
Sept. 14
NEW GOODS.
NO 9 EXCHANGE BUILDINGS.
Mosns & OXFORD having formed a Copartner
ship at the above stand for the purpose of carry
ing on the W. I. GOODS & GROCERY business,
would respectfully inform their friends and the public
that they intend to kecp constantly on hand the best of
‘GrocEeRIES, such as Tea, Sugar, Coffee, Molasses, Rice,
Chocolate, Cocoa, &e. &c., together with every article
usually found in a Grocery Store.
-~ SAMUEL W. MOSES,
Portsmouth, Oct. 12,47 RUFUS K. OXFORD.
AMERICAN HOUSE.
42 Hanover Street, Boston.
* THIS establishment is located in one of the
fi greatest thoroughfares in the city, near the
' Northern and Eastern Rail-road Depots, and
within two minutes walk of the Post Office, Market, &c.
During the past seaswn it has been repainted and put
in complete order. ;
Boaton, March 2, 1847. LEWIS RICE & CO.
SOUTHWORTH CO 'S LETTER PAPER.
J FE. SHORES, Jr., No. 1 Congress Block, has just
e received direct from the manufactory, One case of
Southworth Co.’s Letter Paper, consisting of plain and
wiletl'blue & white fine Letter Paper ; and plain & ruled,
rextra superfine Congress Letter Paper. Always on
thand, and assortment of Cheap Letter and Cap Papers,
iplain and ruled. 41
FLANNELS.
A PRIME article of 2 1-4 yards wide white Flannel,
twilled and plain. sunitable for blanketing and other
pu;])ose!. Also, red, white, yellow and green Flannels.
or sale cheap at WM. J. LAIGHTON’S.
41 3wis
NEW SHAWLS.
'WILIJAM J. LAIGHTON is now opening a new
lot of Shawls—among which are some rich all
wool Cashmere, of the different colors : plaid long and
square Shawls ; also. a variety of woolen Shawls. 41
SCOTCH GINGHAMS A4t 121-2 cents.
25 PIECES Rich Scotch Ginghams at 12 1-2 cents
just received at 21 Market strees.
41 6wis T. TREDICK.
SHAKER YARN.
WHITE, blue and mixed Shaker Yarn, just receiv
ed by T. TREDICK,
41 Gwis _ 21 Market street.
DENTISTRY.
DR. RYDER may be found at his Room in Ports
A 7 mouth the following months : January, February
.Agl, May, July, August, October and November.
rtsmouth, December 3, 1846.
: AT CCOST.
™ INGHAMS, Muslins, Muslin Lawns, Balzorines,
G Prints and Lawns, are selling off at costand less, at
Aug 17. JOHN WEBSTER’S, 6 Daniel st.
- SPALDING & PARROTT,
No. 63 Market Street.
OFFEB for sale A GENERAL ASSORTMENT oF BAR
' IRON & STEEL, and all other articles usually
#ound in an Jron Sters. ts Oct 13,46,
e CORN. |
2500 BUSHELS Yellow Corn, a prime_article
for Mealing—for sale by L..COTTON,
41 = N 0.17 Pleasant st
————————————— A ————————
SUPERIOR SODA BISCUIT,
JUST received fresh from the Bnke% and for sale by
- -Aung. 81 B.J. DODGE & CO.
3‘!’oo’l‘ CALF & KIP SKIN BOOTS.—A large
“assortment on hand, and made to order in the best
ymanner, and warranted to fit. J. C. CARR, ;
41 2 14 1-2 Market st. corner of Ladd st.
THS, CASSIMERES, Docskins, Tweeds, Sat-
L/ tinets "Engwjne;;,nyesfings, v;itehd a ggr}eml ?ss;m-]
m“,&g r Woolens just received and for sale low
P s D T.%EDICK, 21 Market Street.
& 'ED HATABUT can be obtained at |
b Sept.2B. DODGE & Co’s, 44 Market st.
FPVUBS & BUCKETS—A good assortment of Tubs
F e ’f‘ Buckets ”hm B L hans s |
4 fi‘,v {.‘3‘7,’;s“‘”‘:‘-I':‘ *‘ P H m‘m- 8 ‘
fi?"m e bogound ot £.J. DODGE & 005 a 2
POETRY.
THE INSPIRATION.,
¢ My mother’s kiss made me a painter.”’— Benjamin West.
The sun’s slant ray was leaning down -
To kiss the closing flower,
The birds on hurrying wing went by,
To reach their resting bower,
As evening, like a matron mild
From duties done, drew nigh,
Breathing a sweet and soothing calm,
That blessed the earth and sky,
And rested like a holy charm
Of blended hope and joy,
‘Where in their home’s soft shadow sat
A mother and her boy.
“His heart, like leaping fawn, went forth
Over the scene around,—
. Her voice, like low sweet music, calmed
o Ad:zd guhve mciu bound ;
¥ . An ng er ] %
g In émegy breath m
As on his pencil’s trembling touch
With cheering smile she dwelt;
Oh! Genius needs this sympathy
To bid the soul expand,
As lilies open to the day,
By summer breezes fanned.
When first the fount of mind is stirred,
The mother’s loving look,
In rapture beaming on her child, t
Like starshine on a brook,
Makes every gush of spirit wear
The diamond’s living glow
And bids the stream of childish hopes
In golden wavelets ow,—
Till thus the soul, an ocean filled
With love’s translucent flood,
Pours out those high, immortal thoughts,
The tide that mounts to God. :
The world has worshipped Angelo,
And bowed at Raphael’s name,
But never in the highest place,
That Genius crowned could claim,
Was such delight as felt the Boy,
When, at his mother’s feet,
His first week, wavering sketch he drew,
And earned her kisses sweet ;
Tili waked and warmed by her embrace,
Burst forth the spirit free,
Prophetic as the sibyl’s voice—
“A Painter, I will be!”
THE LIGHTNING HORSE.
The iron-horse goes dashing by,—
The turf-steed, panting, lags behind :
While the railroad cities onward fly,
As swift, aye, swifter than the wind !
But steam’s too slow :—it will not do ;
The cry is, on! more speed ! more power !
On !—rack the brain for something new ;
A thousand miles, at least, an hour !
And yet too slow—a fleeter pace ! .
Bring down great heaven’s thoroughfare ?
To annihilate both time and space,
As thought and light pass through the air ?
’Tis done ! he comes ! the lightning horse !
Lo ! thought and time fall far behind !
The prize is thine, immortal Morse,
A triumph grand of mighty mind ! :
Magnetic King, o’er locomotion,
We hail thee monarch of the age,
Whiie steam encircling land and ocean,
Is puffing, screaming loud with rage.
BURIED, BUT NOT DEAD !
A PECULIAR SKETCH.
When they were loyalists, or tories, of the revolu
tion, the Indians were the most inveterate and severe
enemies the Americans could meet. They were led
on by bold, mercenary, bad men, who thought more of
gold than honor, and who fought for the party that
paid most. Among these leaders, in the State of New
York, was a man named John Doxstader, a descend
ant, as the cognomen indicates, of a German family,
who were traders. In 1779, this Doxstader, with a
party of his savage followers proceeded along the inte
rior with the intention of harrassing and robbing the
rebels. In the course of the journey they passed
through a place called Ourlagh, where, while seated in
an inn refreshing himself, (having left his red compan
ions carcusing in a wood hard by,) Doxstader was in
formed that a chance of a capture of rebels existed. A
small company of hardy farmers had been organized,
and were to meet that night at the cottage of one of
the party, for the purpose of making out a plan by
which to conduct themselves thereafter.
That night, when these poor patriots were debating
in fancied security, the Indians, under Doxstader’s di
rection, quietly surrounded the house, and, without 2ny
indication of their motive, suddenly poured a murder
ous fire in at the open windows. Taken by surprise,
the assailed wretches were utterly powerless. The
volley—the yells of the savages—the information con
veyed to them, above all the din, that they would
be killed, “ every one of them "—and a lively indica
tion of the truth of the promise being palpable in the
groans of several of their number who lay bleeding and
dying, might well render them inert and easy prey.—
The cottage was at once fired, and of those who did
not perish in the flames, or escape, were nine who
were taken prisoners. They were carried to the woods
and confined by throngs made of the barks of trees.—
Among these unfortunates was a stout man named Ja
cob Diefendorff. -
“ Ah, ha! Jacob, ” said Doxstader, when he discov
ered his features by the light of a camp-fire at which
the Indians were.roasting their feet and their supper,
“ we have met again, have we 7"
“ Yes, " replied Jacob, in a carcless tone, * matters
have changed since you and I were together before. I
had you in a peculiar situation then.
“I remember it, Jacob, my dear. You tied my legs
under the belly of a horse, and beat me with ramrods.
Never fear we'll pay that score. Rest comfortably,Ja
cob, to-night—you shall have plenty of exercise in the |
morning. ”
“ Devil take me if I care!” was the sole answer.
“ A good night's work!” chuckled Doxstader re
peatedly, as he paced up and down before the fire.—
And the colloquy ended, although not one of the pris
oners nor captors slept a wink.
As soon as the day dawned, Doxstader informed
the trembling rebels that he was about to make “ar
rangements for their disposal.” A private conference
of very brief duration was held among the conquerors.
A tall Indian ended it by briskly stepping out from
the body, and seizing one of the prisoners. Beckoning
two others to his assistance, he placed the helpless man
against a tree and made him fast to it. There was no
time for remonstrance. Before the intention could be
discovered, the tall savage sprang back a few paces
and raised his tomahawk. It whizzed through the air,
and fell, reddened. to the handle. A ecry—wild and
fearful—arose from among the doomed patriots ; and
well ii might, for they saw their comrade tomahawked,
scalped, and butchered to the death. One by one
all were treated in the like bloody and barbarous man-
“ So there are nine less for us to contend with!”
cried Dnxstader, with a hoarse laugh, as they left the
bodies in their gore. “We will now proceed to Cur
rietown, where there is other game to bhe snared. As
for yon,” he continued, spurning the body of Jacob,
“ you dog, I have had my satisfaction for your ireat
ment to me.” :
‘Three hours after this soliloquy was spoken, he
who uttered it, with his band, was fifteen miles
The dwellers in the region of Ourlagh bad heard of
these events, of course, for the victims were bound so
many of them by ties of consangninity and by mer
risge. A search was imstituted through 'the ‘woods,
' and the mangled bodles were discovered. A crowd of
PORTSMOUTH, N. H, TUESDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 96, 1847,
pale men, weeping women, and shrieking children lél"
rounded them.
At last an old man, the father of one of the dead,
dissolved the mute spell, and suggested that the ghast
ly corpses should be consigned to mother earth thgn
and there. The pastor of the vicinity was summoned
—~hasty graves were dug, for the people feared the te
turn of the murderers—and the bodies were thro
into them just as they (the bodies) were dressed. The
trees were then blazed to mark the spot, with sigrs,
too, that spoke of the awful circumstances to the ip
itiated, and the mould loosely thrown in and smoothgy
off. 5 Y.
Twenty-four hours after this rude burial, Dogsta tog
and his fellow butchers sat, near Currietown, caroas
ing in a rude cabin, constructed of pine boards like a
long hall.
It was mid-day. They ‘were two hundred strong,
and feared no one. The common rye whiskey of the
time and place had done its work partislly, and as
drunkenness and strength bring their recklessness and
defiance to the wicked, these abandoned and cruel
creatures were resigned to those influences. In the
midss of their revel they were surprised by a terrible
report, which scattered the tenement in which they
were to the winds, while many of the tenants were se
riously wounded. On the next ensuing minute, a knot
of hardy spirits were cutting their way, right and left,
among the affrighted Indians. Absolutely propped
upon the back of & horse, with an individual behind
him to keep him steady, was a stout and gigantic man,
who fired his pistols, as fast as his trembling hands
would permit, among the howling, dancing savages.—
This man’s head actually bore a mountain of banda
ges, the outside portion of which was white linen,
which was matched, in color, by his complexion.—
Doxstader was endeavoring to rally his party, when
his eye rested upon this strange figare. With a shrick
like that of a startled crow he began to flee from the
scene of strife. The figure urged his horse after him.
The chase, being over meadows fenced slightly with
limbs of saplings, was unequal. Doxstader ran like a
drunken man, staggering hither and yonder, and grasp
ing at the air as if he expected to find support there.—
The mounted figure uttered no sound. but held two'
immense pistols ready for instantaneous use, while his
eye never wandered from the fugitive. The horse had
nearly reached the flying tory, when the latter appear.
ed to lose all volition, for he shook as if stricken by
convulsions, and fell upon his knees.
“ Well, Doxstader, we have not had much of a race
for it, have we ?” said the figure, as he was helped to
the ground by his attendant. His voice was weak and
piping, and he breathed as if it was a task of extreme
difficulty.
“ Mercy, Jacob!” exclaimed Doxstader, in piteous
accents—“ Mercy ! ” 4
“Yes—l had it from you, eh ?” said DiefendorfF, (for
he it was,) sneeringly. ‘
“Go back to your grave,” continued the tory, his
face turning the color of lead with terror—* Why do
You appear upon earth again ?
Jacob laughed as loudly as his precarious condition
would allow, as he answered almost at the same time
—“I was tomahawked, scalped and buried, but I did
nol die! "
The tory looked incredulous, arose to a standing po
sition.
“No, ” continued Jacob, marking the air of wonder
imprinted upon his enemy’s face, “in spite of my
wounds I revived—was restored to life. Nature, never
at a loss in her instincts, taught me to dig my way out
of the earth, and lam here. I was not very carefully
buried, ” he remarked, sotto vire “ or there would be no
retribution for you to feel at this moment. ”
“It is impossible,” stammered the affrighted ruf
fian.
“Is it? Well, come, down on your knees. Itis
quite possible that I shall kill you, as you did me, ac
cording to your own notion. ”
The tory began to realise the fact, and made a move
ment towards producing aveapons of offence and defence;
but Diefendorf drew a line upon him, and bade him de
sist, in a tone that could net be mistaken.
“ Now, pray if you can,” exclaimed Jacob, cocking
his pistol. “ Your Indian friend only stunned me.—
He did not crack my head, but he took the hair off hand
somely. When I recovered, I summoned the boys, and
swore to follow you to the death. Now pray! for you
die.” §
* Not if I can help it,” suddenly cried Doxstader,
restored to this usual hardihood as he aimed a blow at
Jacob. He pitched over upon his face with the effort,
and never rose again. Jacob had shot him through the
head.
A great number of the Indians were slain, and the
party returned to Ourlagh fully satisfied with the ven
geance they had accomplished. 5
Incredible as it may seem, Jacob Diefendorff entirely
regained his health, and lived fifteen years afterward to
tell his story. His descendants are now living at Our
lagh, and exhibit indubitable proofs of the truth of all
we have related.— Noak's Messenger.
WOMAN’S WILL; OPy, THE NEW PAL
FRYY.
Sir Hugo had reached his fiftieth year unmolested by
any passion save an ardent one for a flowing goblet.
Instead of love passages, his delight was in tourna
ments, whence he always returned yictorious. At
length he was flung from the saddle of his indifference
by the beardless tilter, love! He saw Angelica, the
fairest maiden of the land, forgot his gray hairs, and,
unmindful of the incongruity of an union between
May and December, led her to the nuptial altar. For
tunately, Angelica was modest as she was fair, and her
firm virtue repulsed the numerous buiterflies that swarm
‘ed round the opening flowers of her beauty. Sir Hugo
‘knew the tried virtue of his consort, and therefore was
| she dear to him and precions as the apple of his eye.
One morning he rode out to pay a visit to a neigh
boring brother-in-arms, his honest squire, Conrade,trot
ting after him Scarcely had they proceeded half-way,
when the knight suddenly stopped, and cried :
“ Come here, Courade ; the most tormenting thought
has just occurred to me. This is the very day that
father Nicholas comes to the castle to say mass for my
dear wife and myself, and T am not at all inclined to
have him in my abode during my absence; so gallop
back, and desire your lady, in my name, not to admit
the priest.” o
Conrad paused, and shook his head, as if in doubt,
and replied, “ Excuse me, noble sir, but perhaps the
lady Angelica, if left to her own discretion, will do
‘what you wish.” P b plisain ol s
“ A curse on your perhaps!™ exclamed the knight;
“I make all sure by piving the order =~ =
Do you think 304" replied the squire; “now I, in
simplicity, bolieve exaetly tho contrary. . Take the ad
‘vice of your youthful servaut for onee in your life; let
| hings taky (eir Sourse, and. give ugordees upos o
‘J&M ififfi:’”;_ WU ey <=m' QTS 8
i “ A fig for your delicaey I” cried Sir Flugo angrily:
what absurd fancies have you got into your head ?
Do you think an hour’s ride so very tedious ?”
“Oh! if it comes to that, sir” rejoined Conrade, * I
have no more to say.” He put spurs to his horse and
rode back to the castle.
~ Angelica saw him galloping up, and cried in terror,
from the window, * What has brought you back in such
‘haste? Has any accident happened to gy lord 2"
~ “None whatever, gracious lady,” answered Conrade,
“but the noble knight was apprehensive that some ac
cident might happen to you, if by chance you took a
fancy to ride Sultan.”
“I ride—ride the large greyhound !” exclaimed An-
Pe!ica..is_; utter astonishment. “ I believe you are drunk
or mad. * * * It is impossible that your master can
have sent me so ridiculous a message.”
“ Ay, but he did, though,” pursued the squire; ‘““and
my noble master said, at the same time, that he knew
Sultan would bite terribly, not being accustomed to be
made a pony of; and he therefore begs that you will
not attempt to divert yourself in that way.” Having
said this, he again mounted his horse, and galloped off
to rejoin his master.
“Am I awake or do I dream ?” ejaculated Angelica,
“ The folly of Sir Hugo is so strange that I am almost
tempted to believe it all a wild dream. What does he
mean? Is it not enough that I have hitherto tried to
read his every will and wish, and when known, obeyed
them implicity, and do I deserve that he should stretch
his power so far, and play the capricious, haughty ty
rant? Now, I see that to be too submissive, too softly
compliant, is not the way to treat him; the worm that
crawls in the dust is trampled upon. But no, sir knight,
it Is not gone quite so far with us yet ; in spite of you,
I vill ride Sultan ; and you may thank yourself, as but
for your message such a thing would never have enter
ed my head.” '
Her soliloquy was here interrupted by the entrance
of h servant, who informed her that Father Nicholas
had arrived, and was in the antechamber.
“1 cannot receive his visit.fo-day, said the consort of
Sir Hugo, “for my lord is absent. Give this as an ex
cuse to the reverend father, and beg him to return to
maorrow.” “ With all due respect to father Nicholas,”
jcontinued she, when left to herself, “he shall not spoil
my pleasant ride. Now, if my pony were but here!
He must have an easy gait, and his teeth—l do not
fear ;heis as quiet as a lamb. Oh! how I shall de
light in the two-fold pleasure of showing the surly old
fellow that I care neither for him or his orders: and of
trying a pastime that is, at least, a novel one!” Thro’
every corner of the house resounded now her ery of
“Sultan! Here boy.! Sultan! Sultan!”
The immense, but docile animal sprang from a bone
upon which he was feasting, and was at her side in an
instant. Caressing him till she got him into a room,
the door of which she shat. g
“Now friend Sultan,” cried his fair mistress, “no
growl, no bite, and all is safe.” With her snow white
hand she continued stroking and patting his huge back
for some minutes, and then in the hope that, if only
through gratitude, he would comply with her faney she
mounted her new steed. He showed his teeth a little,
in some doubt what all this meant, but she soothed him
again into a humor, and patient endurance of the nov
el burthen; but he thought this quite enough and did
not stir from the ‘one spot. Angelica was naturally
not much pleased with being thus stationary ; she there
fore gently goaded him with her leg, but to no trot
would Sultan condescend; he remained motionless as
before, while something very like a growl escaped from
his immense and fear inspiring jaws. Out of all pa
tience. she now exclaimed:
“You shall feel the spur, then, you lazy brute !” and
drove her heel into his side. He now growled audibly,
but stirred not an inch ; she repeated her blow. This
was to much for the canine patience ; he made a spring,
and as she fell at full length upon the floor, he turned
and bit her hand. The dismounted rider bedewed
the floor with a few tears, and then sprung up to turn
out of the room the uncourteous brute who had thus
rudely shown how little he understood play.
Towards evening Sir Hugo returned, and inquired
with suspicious haste whether father Nicholas had been
there.
“Oh yes, he was here,” answered Angelica, “but I
ventured to refuse him admittance.”
The knight cast a triumphant glance at his squire,
and whispered him, “Now old wisdom, do you see the
use of my orders!”
Conrade, who as may be supposed, had said nothing
of the alteration he had- made in the substance of his
embassy, shrugged his shoulders with a smile, unper
ceived Dy his master, who had turned again to his con
sort, and now first perceived that she were a bandage
upon her soft hand. He immediately inguired the
eause. y
“Sultan bit me,” said Angelica; “and it is all your
fault, Sir Hugo,” added she sobbing.
~ “My fault 1" cried the knight.
“Yes, your fault, and nobody but yours,” retorted tho
spouse. “If you had not sent me word by Conrade
not to ride the masty, mischievous brute, such a mad
trick would never have entered my head.”
In mute astonishment the knight hurried cut to seek
an explanation from his squire, who had slipped away
when Angelica began her complaint. “What message
did you bring your lady ?” demanded he.
Conrade now confessed the truth.
““Were those the orders I gave you, scoundrel ;” said
the enraged Sir Hugo. '
“Certainly not,” replied the squire, “but you will
own that I have made my point good. You may now
se¢ how it would have been had I given your order
about the young priest. My noble lady is a model for
her sex, and almost an angel; but still she is a daugh
ter of Eve, who scems to have bequeathed to all her
lineal female descendants her own spirit of perverse
ness. And we have only to remember the Lady An
gelica’s pleasant ride upon Sultan, to'be convinced that
it has lost none of its vigor in the descent.”
Tne Learxep Erepuant— That’s a werry
knowin’ banimal o’ yourn,” said a Cockney gentle
man to the keeper of an elephant. i
“ Very,” was the cool réjoinder. . 1
“He performs s% tricks and hantics, does
he?” inquired the "Cockney, eyeing the animal
throngh his glass. B
“ Surprisin’,” retorted the keeper, * we’ve learn
ed him to put money .in that box up there. Try
him with a crown.” ' : i
The Cockney handed the elephant a crown piece,
ard sure enéugyk‘ he took it in his trunk and pla
ced it in a box high out of reach. P
. e Wle"!'" um ;, :v&rgy lietmord;pa;};ehfitomsh- ;
in’ tru " the green one ing his eyes.
“ Now {ct'l?ne,hi'n’: &a it out ;ngeandgit baeky'”
“ We never learns him that trick,” retorted the
keeper with a roguish leer, and turned to stir up
the mpfihy-'mfiinnch the hyenas. '
{ Tho*‘nmwu-»e’mignm a‘ Graaqada who b::é
died in three ths, on ard, or after they
:me landed, mmfi%m hundred and for
" *
From the New York Messenger.
SAD CHANGES OF FORTUNE.
“Do you give out work here?” said a voice so
soft, so low, so lady-like, that I involuntarily started
and looked up.
“ Do you give out work here ? *
“ Not to strangers,” was the rude reply; the
stranger turned and walked away,
I left the shop and followed the strange lady.
Passing Thompson’s she paused—went in—hesi
tated—then turned and came out. I now saw her
face—it was very pale—her hair, dark as night,
was parted on her forehead—her eyves, too, were
very black, and there was a wildnaess in them that
made me shudder. She passed on up Broadway
to Grand street, where she entered a miserable
looking dwelling. I paused—should I follow fur
ther? She was evidently suffering much. I was
blessed in husband, children, friends! I knock
ed—the door was opened by a cross-looking wo
man.
“Is there a person living here who does plain
sewing ?” I inquired.
“ I guess not, ” was the reply. *There is a wo
man up stairs, who used to work, but she can’t get
no more to do—and Ishall turn her out to-mor
row. ”
. “Let me go up,” said I, as, passing the woman
‘with a shudder, I ascended the stairs.
“ “You can keep on to the garret, ” she screamed
l after.me, and so 1 did—and there I saw a sight, of
which, I, the child of affluence, had never dreamed !
'The lady had thrown off’ her hat, and was kneeling
by the side of a poor, low bed. Her hair had fal
| len over her shoulders—she sobbed not, breathed
‘not—but seemed motionless—her face buried in the
‘ covering of the wretched, miserable bed, on which
lay her husband. He was sleeping. I looked up
on his high, pale forehead. around which clung
masses of damp, brown hair—it was knit, and the
pale band clenched the bedclothes—words broke
from his lips—*ll cannot pay you now,” I heard
him say. DPoor fellow! Even in his dreams, his
poverty haunted him. I could bear it no longer,
and knocked gently at the door. The lady raised
her hand, threw back her long black hair, and
gazed wildly on me. It was no time for cere
mony ; sickness, sorrow, want, perhaps starva-
Jon, were before me. “I came to look fora
person to do plain work,” was all I could say.
“O, give it to me, ” she sobbed. “ Two days we
have not tasted food! and to-merrow——.” = She
gasped, and tried to finish the sentence, but could
not. She knew that to-morrow they would be both
homeless and starving.
“ Be comforted, you shall want no more !”
I kept my word. In a few days she told me all ;
of days of happiness in a sunny West Indian Isle,
her childhood’s home. Of the death of her father
and mother, of a cruel sister and brother-in-law ;
how she left that home, hoping to find a brother in
America; how she sought in vain, but found instead,
a husband ; he too, an Englishman, a gentleman, a
scholar, had been thrown upon the world. Sym
pathy deepened into love; alone in a crowd, all
the world to each other, they married. He pro
cured employ&nt in aschool; she, plain nee
dle-work. To close attention to the duties of
his school, long walks, and scanty save, brought
iil health, and confined him at length to his bed.
The shop from which this poor wife obtained
work failed, and their resources were cut off. She
had looked long, weary days for employment, many
had none to give, others “ gave no work to strang
ers.” Thus I found them, to comfort them for a
little time ; then, I trust, they found a comforter in
heaven !
The husband died first; died, placing the hand
his poor wife in mine. It needed not the mute ap
pealing look he gave me. Itook herto my own
happy home—but it was to late!
It 1s a very little time ago, I went one morning
to her room. She had passed a restless night ; had
dreamed, she said of her dear George ; she called
me her kind and only friend ; begged me to sit a
little while beside her, and looked up so sadly in my
face, that my own heart seemed well nigh breaking.
I left her not again.
In the still deep night, I heard her murmur,
“ Sister Anne, do not speak so harshly to me!—
O, mamma, why do you leave me ?” "Then again
she said, “ Give me an orange, my sister; lam
very faint.” Her soul was again in her own sunny
home,
“ Lay me by my George, and God will bless you, ”
were her last words to me. Iled my hushed chil
dren to look upon her sweet pale face, as she lay in
her coffin. They had never seen sorrow or death,
and then I gave them the first knowledge of both;
then I told them of the sin, the cruelty of those who
wound the “ stranger’s ” heart.
A Goop Story.—The following excellent story
is told of a grocer in Portsmouth, N. H.:
It appears that a man had purchased some wool
of him which had been weighed and paid for, and
Mr S. had gone to the desk to get change for a
note. Halppening to turn his head while there, he
saw in a glass, which swung so as toreflect the shop,
a stout arm reach up and take from the shelf a
heavy white oak cheese. Instead of appearing sud
denly, and rebuking the man for his theft, as anoth
er would, thereby losing his custom forever, the
crafty old gentleman gave the thief his change as
if nothing had happened, and then, under the pre
tence of lifting the bkag to lay it on the horse for
him, took hold of it—he exclaimed—
¢ Why, bless me, I must have reckoned the weight
wromg.’ |
¢ On, no,’ said the other, ‘you may be sure you’ve
not, for I counted with you.”
¢ Well, wel!, we won’t dispute the matter it is ea
sily tried,” said Mr S., putting the bag into the
scales again. - There! said he‘ ¢I told you so—l
knew I was right—made a mistake of nearly twen
ty pounds; however, if you don’t want the whole
you need’nt have it—ll'll take part of it out.’
¢ No, no !" said the other staying the hands of Mr
S. on their way to the strings of tél‘)e bag. ‘I guess
I will take the whole.”
And this he did, paying for his rascality by re
ceiving skim-milk cheese, or tap-root for the price
of wool !
‘Dear me ! ’ said Mrs. Partington, as she drop
ped for the third time into the lap of a passenger
in a railroad car, having stood up during a fifty
mile journey, from a scareity of cars. *‘Dear me!
I’'m all confusions and bruises, and I shall get my
brains knocked out if I go on this way, 1 feel &s
Elder Snarl said he did when the boys rid him on
a rail, that if it was'nt for the name of riding he'd
full as lief walk.” And the old lady compressed
her lips and held on harder.—Post.
¢ Sir,’ said a marketman to Johnny, ¢ you stole a
pair of ducks from my wagon.’ ‘{Vhat do yon
mesn by telling me T stole your ducks ?’ ¢lmean
as I say—you stole the ducks.” ¢No I didn't steal
‘em—when I took ’em I winked, just as I do when
I buy things at auction.’—Post. ~
CoLLEGE JOKE.—*Sam,’ called out a student
one day to & classmate who stammered and was
considered a little ‘soft,’ ¢ what became of the oth
er half of your brains?’ ‘Y-your father never
had ’em, or he would n’t ha’ sent you here,’ was
his instant reply. il
A DiscOVERY.—A wcgasays ‘that once on a
journey he was put in a sleigh with a dozen or
more passengers, not one of whom he knew, but
on turning a short corner, the sleigh upset, and
‘then, said he, ‘I found them all out.”
VOL. XCIIL—NO. 3.
: THE TIGHT BOOTS.
About five years ago I happened at a wedding in
one of the back woods counties of Georgia, at the
house of Major S. Being the wealthiest man in
these parts, )J.le was desirous of giving a great flare
up, and for this purpose had invited a large num
ber of guests to witness the nuptials of the eldest of
three blooming, cherry-lipped, strong limbed, clean
footed daughters. Among the invited guests I ob
served the face of BiLL P., a representative of the
ccunty at the « University,” whom I had known as
the buit of his class while there but who was des
tined to act a conspicuous part on the present.
memorable oceasion. Bill was an original—sui
veneris. He was particularly attached to his head
which was unique in shape, and clothed with curls
which resembled less Hyperions than the setting
sun in hue. He was six feet two in his stockings,
with legs meeting a long way up, and more resem
bling a pair of compasses than anything I can at
present imagine. Add to this, he was twenty years
of age, and reeking with verdancy and bash fulness,
and you have his daguerrcotype. The ceremony
had been performed, the hour was waxing late,
and all seemed to be enjoying the flow of soul. I
had exhausted the fun from the various groups,
and was looking about for a subject ot interest,
when I perceived Rill, sitting like Napoleon, soli
tary and alone, with a face, the agony of whose ex-
Kression, I shall never forget. Approaching him, I
tindly inquired the cause of his distress, and prof
fered my assistance. :
. “Give me your arm,” said he, “Tam deathly
sick : let us find a room and go to bed.”
He grasped my arm convulsively, and limping
along, we went into a private room which Major S.
had assigned me as my quarters for the night. I
soon discovered the cause of Bill’s malady, which
was a pair of small boots on his large feet, worn
with a view of curtailing the fair proportions of
those members. He endeavored in vain to release
his feet, and as it was impossible to get the assis
tance of a servant, I volunteered to tug at them
mySelf, when he had completely exhausted his
strength. We succeeded at length in pulling off
one—but the other resisted our every eflfort. Bill
was in agony—his foot was badly swollen, and vet
he would not cut the boot. At last he arose, his
eyes in a “ fine phrenzy rolling,” and dripping with
perspiratien, and pronouncing anathemas not oud,
but deep, upen all “ gatherings ” in general, and
country weddings in particular, he divested him
self of every garment—and stood up unincumbered
save with that one terrible boot. The merriment
in the adjoining chamber contrasted strangely with
the anguish in mine. The guests had now all gone
into the ball room, which was separated from the
room assigned me by a thin wall. I could hear
every note of preparation made by the fiddler.
Approaching nearer the wall, I discovered a door
which opened into the room where they were about
commencing the dance. By this time Bill had re
covered his strength, and recommenced the tug
with his boot. In vain he essayed every position
and attitude. -At length he thought he might ac
complish his object by placing his back to the wall,
his right foot against one of my feet, and obtain my
assistance. He placed himself firmly against the
door, and I canght his leg and began to pull; grad
ually it yielded, and bidding him make “a long
pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together,” the boot
unexpectedly gave way, and with it the door, and
Bill went tnmbling into the ball room !
Such sereams {from the females, and such conster
nation among beaux was never before scen. In
the midst of my mirth uproarious I heard the clatter
of a horse’s hoofs, and looking out of a window I
beheld a solitary horseman flying with the speed of
a locomotive, his long hair streaming in the wind,
and clothed in full Georgia costume, to wit, a shirt
collar and a pair of spurs. It was poor Bill.—Spi
rit of the Times.
Tar Baxk oF ENGLAND.—The Bank hasa
capital of eighteen millions sterling, and is mana
ged by Governors, &c. Its notes are never reis
sued by the bank, after being presented for pay
ment. They may continue in circulation for any
time. and pass from one bank to another ; butwhen
presented to the Bank for specie the name of the
person presenting must be endorsed, with his resi
dence; then after a careful examination, the note
is paid and cancelled.
" The printing, binding, &e., required by the bank
and its branches are done within the building by
the most approved methods. The steam presses
and all the wachinery are the best that can be ob
tained in England or Scotland.
Each note is printed on what is called one sheet
of paper; the lowest denomination is five pounds,
the highest one thousand. One of the most ingen
ious pieces of mechanism I have ever seen is that
used to mark the numberof each bill. There isno
change of number by hand, but all is done by this
machine and by steam power.
When the bills have passed through the hands
of the printers. They are sent to the drying room,
where they are again counted and dried; they ave
then put up into convenient- packets, and sent to
the cashier's room for signature. Thence they go
to the register’s department, and from that office
are brought back to ¢ The Treasury.” Here they
are kept in fire proof iron eases, which cover all
the sides of the room. The room itself is fire proof
there being only one thing that can burn, the coun
ter. On one side the cases are filled with gold,
‘tied up in bags, and on the other the bills in pack
~ages, convenient for.the “ paying tellers” there are
‘two large locks to each case, and the keys are kept
’ by separate officers, so that both must be present
'before any sum can be removed. I held in m{
‘hand while in this room, two millions sterling, all
ready to be put into circulation.
Each day from thirty to thirty-six thousand bills
are printed. The ink is made in the bank, and it
is of such a peculiar composition that by its effect,
together with that of the high sized paper, the
“ blankets” used on the presses require to be wash
ed by steam at least once a day. et}‘he highest num
ber of the notes is 99,999. When that number is
reached, they return to No.l, with a new date
The pressmen and most of the machinists receive
£3 per week. The females in the bindery and ru
lingkrooms from fifteen shillings to one' pound per
week. L A
~_ln one of the rooms ninety-seven clerks are em
ployed, whose business is to examine the notes by
register, and so minute and accurate is the concern
that it is known in the Bank what notes are out,
and who received them, and it is the practice of all
bankers in town or country, to take the number of
each note before it is paid, and to whom paid. This
is a work of time, but gives great security.
There are several E;ulm residing in the Bank,
who have very comfortable Wflm&*
There is also a bank kitchen, as well as bank p
lor. This is for the accommodation of the d" mgi :
tors on duty, who may wish a cup of coffee, or
Mm&,.-{mv ey T pean cotel T Sm ."?'"4?’2-;1:«-“:1‘?‘5.? i
s e
4Tak Cars ARE coMiNg.—We understand that
the cars will run on the Cheshire road as far a
Winchendon, on Monday next. The grading b
low here is going on rapidly, and the depot building
inShindomnp gePR 2015 gkl shas. nligene.
W ponid gn doheces dedaid oz ioli e puiien.
1 R »v“ "““'}"‘ 5 o wg‘%*%mfi e i
Ble the Tonerit s Eoni 7 &TP ion BRI
Sigimaee. ol T "' ‘f&%':“
i ovevion S SETRTE BTSR e
the good will of others.