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The banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1844-1847, July 22, 1846, Image 1

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THE BANNERS
' 'G
I
[WEEKLY.] /
? . # - ^ - =*
Vol. III. Abbav^le C..H, S. C. July 22. 184?> .No. 21.1
?????^??^??
Published every Wednesday Morning, by
ALLEN & KEKK.
ilrto 2Tcrms.
ONE DOLLAR AND FIFTY
CENTS p-r annum, if paid witlun three
mont li.> trom fh- tinir of subscribing, or
TWO DOLLARS atW that nm , No
subscription r?;C?'l??d for as than six
mtHHhsi it mi no pap?*r aiscontinu* <1 m.til
..II .... - : i ...
Oil on aia-vn iir1 Jin HI, XH'-pi Ml " fl- ?>{)?u?*-of
?'t ditor. Sti'f ript-oiif will t >
continu-' . ??' I *fl? fioiif* I)* .iv ii otli.r v.8.
ur? v .ouh ?i? tto? <;N h- of h'- volutin j
F/Ofk N>'iPs Sit'/'Jiy G izrtte
THL LIVING SKELETON'
The people, of the pr-'S'-nt lay .ire
prone to excitement. Every bubble
that glitters upon the running stream
of Time, finds thousands of weak, but
eager minds, willing to be led astray by
its fickle, but shining course: even as
tho c^hnolKnir ic tori fViA K??*
%uv uvMvvawwj ?w tuu UJ illU Ul I^Ul UUl"
terfly, as it sports its brief hour, amid
the golden sun-beams of a summer's
day. Almost every turn of this old
Earth in its diurnal course, brings up
something new and exciting, to lead the
mind of man away from the beaten
track of the wonders that were but yes
terday. It is truly wonderful, to think of
the manifold wonders which have been
cast forth from the deep and furrowed
bosome of the present age. There has
been the iron age, and the silver age,
and the golden age?but this age may
truly be called eecenlricus, for never has
4Via eaon o /rn oa
iitvy UUIAU guvu ugt. ou |7i UUUL 111 JJI UUU*
cing those things which are marvelous.
Almost every mail brings us the
wonderful news, that the eighth wonder
of the world has just been brought to
light, in some remote corner of the
globe, and thus the inquisitive mind is
kept in continual fermentation. However,
it is not within my province, at
the present time, to write a labored dis
sertation upon the proneness of the present
age to marvels; but merely to write
a short sketch of one, whom the press
have seen fit to notice, and who is
destined to become celebrated in his
own sphere. Alexander Edson, the
living "skeleton," was born in the
town of Randolph, Vermont, Feb. 2,
1804. His parents were rather above
the ordinary size, and so were some of
the familv- whil>h rnnsisfpH nf nino cnne
and two daughters. The oldest daughter
weighs at the present time upwards
of two hundred pounds, and the oldest
son weighed before his death less than
forty-six pounds ! The subject of this
sketch weight, at the age of eighteen,
one hundred and thirty-five pounds, and
had a strong active frame, with a countenance
pleasant and agreeable?since,
however, he has gradually decreased in
flesh, until he has become a skeleton: a
mere mass of human bones, almost as
fleshless as those which have been polished
and wired together bv the hand of
man. At the age of twenty, young
Edson commenced the study of physic
in his native town, where he studied
two years, after which he went to Northfield,
(Vt.) and completed his course of
studies. He continued the practice of
medicine several years. He has also
taught school fourteen winters, both in
Vermont and New York His education
is very good especially in M-?ihf'matics?but
ol late his chiel employment ;
has been in making rhymes, some 02,
which are quite passable. L have in 1
my possession sever.il articles of u? j
composition, which aire written wita '
~ ?i.ni ? 1 1 ? ' I
ouiuc uuisiibiki skiiij >nu u yrtai ti >>i oi ]
force. His mind is active, rather witty j
withal, and his intellectual powers art- |
as good, as when his irume was girt j
with tne firm muscles and strong j
sinews oi lusty life It is iar beyond]
tne Ken 01 man, lo tell tue true cause ui ;
his gradual wearing away oi the flesh: i
?it appears to be a freak of nature, and j
has no remedy. His breatti is good,
and he eats and sleeps well, though
his appetite is large in comparison
with what it might be expected
from his small capacity for the good
things of this life. I was present during
on examintion of him, by the faculty
of the Medical College m Woodstock,
(Vt.) but they could discover
nothing that indicated internal disease.
It was supposed by some that his lungs
were affected, but thev were at that
time sounded by professor Child, and
Eioriounced in a healthy state. His
eight is five feet six inches, and weight
fifty pounds ! but his strength is vast in
proportion to his size. (He has frequently
raised me from off the floor, my
weight being about two hundred
pound?,) , .
Where is there ? person who has ever
looked upon the fleshless bones of' a
dead, human being, without strange
feelings of awe and dread, such as chili
the warm blood, and seem almost to
tturfke the heert stand still? I, too,
fcava trembled, as I looked upon ihe
> ?"? WJC- ? -1 *
BWWHj wuwvt ? UHVMU
ah, never have I felt that dread?that
something terrible, which gripes the
ln-art like, an iron vice, as wh<-n I have
siooil in the pr**6ence. of him, whose Trail
casket ol clay contains the elements of
life and death so strangely blent, as to
cheat the lancy into a faith, that it is
death alone, while within, calmly beats
the warm blood of life. When I stand
before him, I almost fancy that i look
upon the shadowy ghost of one who has
passed the bourne of life, and that I can
hear th. creaking bones, and the horrid
nestle of the red, creeping worm, that
plays in the heart of the silent dead;
and all there is to admonish me that I
stand not in the presence of the dead, is
the moist skin, and the strong and steady
beat of the life pulse. This may
seem an idle sketch, but those who have
seen its subject, will bear witness that I
am true, in what I write. Those who
have looked upon the " living skeleton"
once, will remember him forever. The
picture of that emaciated form, will
haunt the brain for years?casting &
sickly glare over its hours of quiet, like
a lamp that is hung in a tomb.
From the Buffalo Com. Adv., of July 7.
A DESPERATE WOMAN.
Readers of newspapers have doubtless
noticed, within the year past, occasional
allusions to a woman in the western
country, who complained of tcrri-;
ble wrongs she had suffered at the hands
of a man formerly resident in this city,
and threatened some dreadful retribution.
The last notice of her stated that
she had left Lafayette, Indiana, in a
masculine attire and armed, and had
made her way to some town in the interior
of Ohio.
Last Saturday morning, while the
Great Western was lying at Mackinaw.
it was whispered round that one of
the passengers, who seemed a trim boy
of some sixteen or eighteen years, was
in fact a woman. Captain Walker invited
the youth and one of the principal
citizens of Mackinaw into his office, and
there being ' questioned, the suspicious
passenger declared herself a woman,
and gave her reasons for assuming the
dress she wore. She said she was mar
ried, as she supposed) a few years ago,
in this city, to a man whose name our
informant was unable to give; that after
living with him some two or three
years and having two or three children,
her husband told her the marriage was
all a sham, that he had another lawful
wife, and had contemptiously cast off
her and her children.
Under these circumstances, she had
sworn to have revenge or justice. She
had ascertained that the man who had
thus deeply wronged her was living in
Mackinaw, and she had come there to
ilKciirt !1 runfiiirn iti. ?n nC
- " ?'
vengeance in default Upon which
she exhibited two loaded pistols which
she carried about her person. Alter
me further conversation she gtive up
sh<- pistols, and a messenger was d~*
patched to the husband with an intimation
'hat a p cn'jer on the Western
wished to se?* him. He soon came on
hoard, and the two parties met face to
Pice The woman upbraided him with
all the wrongs he had inflicted ^pon
her, and dcrn.inded ronaratiun far h*?rs*df
and children by a legal marriage, at i ie
sam?* tiin^, with all the recklessness of a
woman troadfd to desperation, threatening
his life vvith the most vehement asseverations
it' he failed to do her justice. ,
At this point the door opened, and the
man, who had cowed before her, shot
out like lightning and escaped to the
shore. She soon followed after, ascertained
his place of business, and sought
0 O
another interview. As she approached,
doubtless supposing she had come to fulfil
her threats, and that he must defend
his life, raised a pistol and fired. The
ball struck near her feet. She never
blenched, but drawing a pistol in turn
from her vest, took deliberate aim at
him and then lowered the wnnnnn.
saying as she turned on her heel," no,
you poor contemptible wretch, it would
disgrace even a woman to slay you."
The affair, of course, made a gTeat
noise on the island, but what was the
issue we are unable to state. The.boat
swung off soon after the events we have
detailed, leaving both parties ashore.
We have heard many stories about the
character and relations of the parties in
-this matter, but not enough that we can
I rely anon to form a decided opinion as to 1
the merits of the case. It may be that
the woman is profligate; but how often
does the term abandoned have a strictness
of meaning, not intended by those 1
who use it to characterise frailty, and a
how many, now the scorn and outcast of
society, desperate in vice and crime, and j
degraded until they have lost almost all a
semblance of womanhood, would be 1
happy, virtuous wives and mothers, bu; r
for the foul abandonment ol which they
have been the victims. There is a terrible
wrong somewhere in the case we a
have related, and our judgement, as well a
as our sympathies, incline us to believe j
that the unsexed woman is the sufferer t
From the N. O. Delta. ?
LOVE, WAR AND DUTY. t
Jim Jewel was one of the precious s
gems that, in all t. radiance of a red i
nose ana a brandy and water face,
glowed in the dock of the Recorder's g
Court yesterday morning. Jim was evi- j
dently a case, or, rather, a compound of f
all the cases He was a nominative ^
case, inasmuch as had promised to give f
Margaret Moylan, a pretty looking Irish g
girl who was in court, a new name. ^
He had pledged himselt to make her
Mrs. Jewel. He was a possessive case, ^
because he managed to become her sub- j.
treasurer for twenty dollars; and do c
what she could, she could not remove a
the deposits. And he was an objective
case, because his conduct to Margaret,
and the watchman who arrested him,
and objectionable in the highest degree. v
Margaret sat some distance off from Jim,
with her side far.fi tnwnrH? him Uo
made great exertion, by divers hems! t
and pantomimic motions to attract her ^
attention, but they all proved unavail- ^
ing. She seemed to say, " I've looked
my last;" and Jim might exclaim, l
" Her hair is braided not for tne, v
She turn, her eyes away."
T;^ ..... c 11 ?? j - 1
Jim ?vas KUMiiy caneu up, ana ne an- g
swered the call like one prepared to make j,
as strong a defence as his case would j
admit of s
" Your name is Jewel," said the Re- s
corder, " is it not ?"
" Well, as the vulgar phrase is," said
Jim, " it aint nothing else ; and though ^
a lapidary might not be disposed to set l(
much value on me now, there was a
time?wasn't there, Miss Moylan?? a
1 1 r 1
wucii a bcnaiu young iaay 01 my acquance
(he looks leering at Moylan,) ^
when a certain young lady of my ac- ^
quaintance, I say ; your honor, used to a
call me the peerless jewel of her soul ?" ?
" O, goody gracious!" said Margaret, ^
turning her eyes upwards, but taking in s
Jim in their range?"Oh, goody graci- n
ous, what a story! Why it would be n
enough for a lady player on the stage to t|
talk that way, and not u poor girl of v
my sort that has nothin' but me place tj
and me character, and?"
" No matter, madam ; permit me to
hear what Mr. Jewel has to say for himself,'"
said the Recorder. r,
Jewel.?" i your honor; let the lady Q
proceed, if you do find me foul in her report,
I shall abide the con. equences."
HTsj nr r> rt -? /?/ <4 ah 'I"""
u, juu uwa^vjii u<ai;H'
guard, you ; that's the way you soothered
me oui of my twinty dollars, that I u
had saved to sind home to pay me poor
mother's rint in Ireland, with your tillin' s
me of your plantation in Texas, and all u
the napgurs I'd own when you'd marry j
me ; and now instead of that, I find you 0
goin'off a full private soldi *r, without t|
P.VPn mfll/in an hnncot Iirnmon r\f mo "
" Miss Moylan," said Jewel, assuming i<
a dignified altitude?" Miss Moylan, s
I'm a gentleman of nice sensibilities;
my sense of honor is keen as ever was d
blade of Domascus manufacture. Do
not wound 3sone?not impeach the
oth;;. 'Tis true, I had some thoughts
of wedding thee?of making thee bv ..
name wliat thou art by nature, a Jewel,
w and may ye do it"?but not now, Miss *
MoyIan, not now. My country now de- [
mands my service, and shall have it (
To-morrow I go to the wars, and if with ^
my sword 1 crave for myself an honor*- r
'ble name?a name of fit association j
with the Taylors, the Mays, the Wal- j
kers, and the other worthies of our time ,,
?why, then, Miss Moylan, I may think *
oi marrying you; but not before, Miss a
Moylan.^ ' <
"Ob, you smoothed tongue vaga- J
bond I" exclaimed Miss MoyJan, " give 1
me twinty dollars; and I don't care if I 1
I never see your face again. . Sure, it was ?
the unlucky day for me that I first laid (
me eyes upon you, you good for noth- t
I ing blackguard!" ?
w w ? ' - t ?
- I V
1 l.j 1 ? "
I have Borne with this," saicl the.
Recorder, " till patience has ceased tf> be
l virtue ; I'll bear no more of it."
Mi. Jewel.?" I have but one remark,
-our honor to make. It was by rfight,
nd by day, that I first met Miss Moyan.
1 thought, then, and 1 am pretty
nuch of the same opinion still, that
"There was none moru ?air than she."
" But, sir, it is at the '*rine of Mars,
til not Venus, that 1 now worship I
idmit that I owe the lady twenty dolars
, but if she gives me ten more j?'
o aid me in an outfit, I will give her an
irder on the rptrimontoi ? * r
paymusier lor
hirty dollars And my word oi honor,
hat if I return alive from the wars, she
i 'II bo Mrs. Jewel?Mrs. General
ewel, perhaps."
The Recorder could not resist a
mile at the anticipations of the sanguine
Vlr. Jewel. MargaX* and Jim had a
e\v moments private conversation,
vhen the former turned around
tnd courtesied modestly to the court,
aying?I withdraw the charge, your
lonor." On which the case was di. r.i.Sfd,
and the embryo hero of a hunIred
fights left the oflice, satisfied that,
lowever he might fair with the M'-xi:ans,
he had certainly made a conqum
imong the Irish.
A BUFFALO TALE.
I had a friend ill the Indinn rnnnfru
...J
vho was a rare narrator, but suspected
if embellishment. He never failed in
i story. He had one buffalo tale,
ough as any that he use to tell with a
'/livelle and earnestness, that made us
orget its improbable features.
"One morning when I was in the
3U?I, c? t- ?
a-.s. "Vi 11I HI." riM won in ?av. " I
J J T- | - J }
vent out accompanied by an old Spansh
hunter, ive call Ihe Mexicans all
jpaniards, you know, to get a few buffa
o stakes ; and seeing an old bull asleep,
took a fancy to have a ride, without
addle or bridle. So I crept up and
prang upon his back."
u The dev?" we would exclaim.
" And off he went, full tilt, towards a
lottom prairie, the Spanird running afer
us as fast as he could."
" And you on his back " we would
sk ' i
" Yes, sir?fact?and 1 kept beating
tim with my gunstick on the side of the
lead, until his course become circusar,
nd he made several tours of the little
rairie. I could have easily killed
;im with my knife, but I wanted to
how the Spaniard, who had run to the
liddleof the prairie, some feats of horse
lanship, as he kept walking round like
he ring-master of a circus. At length j
/e came within two hundred yards of
tie Spanird."
Shall I shoot?" he bawled out.
" No wait a little, said I."
"So we kept on, tail up, at a liigh
un, until I brought him within about
ne hundred yards of my companion."
" Now let him have it, said I."
il In what part?"
" RnliinH th<? fnrpctifmldor 9"
" Well," said he raising his rifle,
ho] ' up your legJ* - '
Then after our astonishment had been
fficiently expressed, he would assure
s that the Spaniard brought the bull
own pursuant to order; and he had an
Id pair of elkskin breeches, ripped on
be nether edge of one leg by a bullet,
/hich he tried to assure us were the
ientical breeches he wore on that occaion.
" And jrou see sir," he would add, u I
id'nt hold my leg quite high enough."
Reveille.
A Squadron of Disappointed Loers.?The
N. O. Tropic says :?
Ve see it state! in some of our
Sxchaneres. that tVip. rpasnu wKv
Captain May wears long hair and
eard, is on account of disappointnent.
in love. We presume such
s the case, and by a singular concidence,
every man attached to
Hay's command is afflicted in the
tame way; as they, all have more
r Innor KnS.p anrl
wm. M***? M>I1U ^ IfCOrl US*
>uch a brave set of disappointed
overs we think never before got
ogether, they stand up against
heir wounded hearts most manully,
an seem likely to 'get
hrough with them without mncfa
Utimato injury.
%
k
Advertisements
WILL be conspicuously inserted nt 75 .
cents per square for the first insertion,
and 37$ cents for each continuancelonger
ones charged in proportion. Those
not having the desired nuraberwof insertions
marked UDon them, will J
? ? wuilllUCU
until ordered out* and charged according.
)y.
For advertising E strays Tolled, TWO
DOLLARS, to be paid by the Magistrate.
For announcing a Candidate, TWO
DOLLARS, in advance.
Q?r All letters or communications must
^beidirectrdto^h^gd^^po^a^^^Md^
tor is
flowers n* B>o
.M?<u ivllUVT ug, SHJIH "
bachelor editor of the HarrfeUurg^le* ?
former, and coming, as he says they do,
* om one of the fairest of God's creatures.
To prove that editors are not the miserable
devils they are always reported to be,
we copy this burst of sweetness into the
Chronicle.
And to prove that editors though umiserable
devils," can appreciate a u gem}*
from the sear, we transcribe it all into
the Banner.
Oh I turn those dear, dear eyes away,
My cheek with love is blushing,
And though a smile may o'er it Dlav.
,1 /
ftly eyes with tears are gushing.
Oh! look not in my eyes, love. . .
They tell a tale too true ;
See not my blushes rise love,
Nor listen to my sighs, love,
For blushes, siirhs and eyes, love,
All speak?all speak of you.
Different kinds of Religion.??
Rev Dr. Barnes, in his sermon before
the missionary meeting at Worcester,
Mass, enumerated the following kinds
of religion as prevalent at the present
time:?
1. There is the religion of sentiment
that finds its enjoyment in 'he contemplation
of the benutiful and grand, eith*
cr on the page of nature of revelation ;
delighted in the starry heavens and in
the verdant fields, and in the story of
redemption, wht-re the love of God isr
revealed In these displays of Deity
there is no attribute on which it does not
love to dwell. This is the religion of
poetry and philosophy.
2. The religion of forms, that began
in the early ages of the church to intrn
I dace the rights and ceremonies of heathenism,
into the Christian church ; and
despite of the Reformation, that for a
season checked its tendency, there is a
constant inclination to relapse into it
again.
3. The religion of feeling that estimates
the value of religion by the a
mount of excitement it produces; it
makes happiness the guage of piety, and
*i_ . i- -M -. _ r ? i
nit; lucimy 01 sneaaing tears the evidence
of repentence, and joy the proof
of conversion.
4. The-religion of Principle has something,
in common with all these kinds
of religion, but differs (rom them all.
It embraces an intellectual adoption of
right as a rule of action, and a steadfast
adherance to it. It finds its authority
not in whims or customs, or even the
laws of men, and does what is right and
true, come what mav. It malfpa
greatest sacrifices, a ad performs the
most heroic deeds, not to be emblazoned
among men, or canonized when dead,
but because it is right, and God wills it*
And what Next.?-A gentleman
riding near the city, overtook a
well dressed young man, and inI
Ulm ? - ? * L!
VlbCU UiUi I'KM C4? ^Cdb ill U1S C&TriA^C*
* And what (said the gentleman
to the young stranger) are your
plans for the future V* " I am a
clerk," replied the young man,' and
my hope is to succeed and get into
business for myself,' " And what
next?" said the gentleman, 4*Why,
11 intend to marrv and v?t> ? *
-rf ?~ ? ?*r ?***
establishment of my own," said
the youth. " And what next V*
continued the interrogator. "Why,
to continue in business and acca*
mulate wealth." " And what
next V' " To retire from business
and enjoy the fruit of my labors/'
"And what next?" "It is the
lot of all to die. and I nf f*nwr?<? /???
not escape" replied the young
man. " And wbirt next f** once
more asked tbe gentleman; but
the young man had.no answer to
make?he had ..no purposes th*t
reached beyond the present life.
How mw young men ??'e In
preoisejy .. the s*rae condition \?
i their pians einbrace only thi*
! ?what pertains to creating wealth
I and eniovintt life;- . 'Wb?Upertains
i to the World to come, has no plaoef v
I in all their plaJxa^?Traoctler. " ?
*

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