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v&:: JA8. R. MORRIS, Editor and Proprietor. v 4. PUBLISHED EVKiiY WEDNESDAY MORNING. iJSKMa--?i,au per Annum, in Advance. - 9 i:'v VOLUME WOODSFIELD, -MONROE COUNTY OHIO, NOVEltBEE 23,, 1853. NUMBER 36. 1 . - ' ---;:y'. i :"!:- vV-''--"' I'm t f ""f" ;.lit' Hi There f rnB NEGLECTED CHILD J. never was a favorite. fcVr .-'"t'vi .;--My mother never smiled 't : ,Qn me with half the tenderness l. J ,f XtkHv,; Tbt b,Mied her favored chilJ. .j-v I'l've'aeen her kiss my aister'a cheek, ' &y-'. C, While fondled on her knee ; . '-.'; fO'?' I'ft'.lurned way to hide my tears; I vv"' X'-iiTfcw ' no kiss for me! i L '-:'"v''VVi'V'.iAjidjret I strove to please with a i f . i J My,4ittle store ot sense; i tf, .v-rv''iiI. atrye "-to 'please, and infancy . "f"". ';" Caif rare ,;f";."v'ii;;'';I did not - vair rareiy give nnence ; Bat-when: my artless efforts met relentless check, , dare to throw myself . n tears upon her neck. ..'-.'Uow blessed are the beautiful j:-UOYm waicijes o cr ineii on in. '. .' vC.-'j ; Oh, beauty! io my nursery . ,v ; I learned to know Uiy worth ; I " - M - - , ' Pl. t , Jt&( jor even inete, i ve oueuaai Forsaken and lot lorn ;" And wished, for others wished it too, I never had been born. ' I'm sure I was affectionate, io my sister' face,,,; There was Inok of love that claimed A smile or an embrace ; But when 1 raised my lip, to meet . 'The pressure children prize; None knew the feelings of my'heart, . They spoke not inmy eyes. But oh! that heart too keenly felt, ,?The anguish of neglect : l saw my aistr' lovely firm .-. ', ;With terns and roses decked. , J I did not covet them; but oft, " When' wantonly reproved, ' ienvied her the privilege ; A'"', Of being so beloved. ; . ' ' "J "i ' From Gleason's Pictorial. "T H E ARREST: OR,-' LTIIE DARING OF A PATRIOT LOVEK. ?U. WEit the'English General Howe found rhiroself master of. Boston he began to re- voire in his mind how he should-best pun Jsb certaia distinguished families, who had ' been most active in opposition to royal ' authority. His chief source of informa ''tioh 'was a young lory, who, by means of ;. ,' his) wealth and birth, : had gainied the con in fidsnoe of the British chief, and was now - ... an inmate of his military household. The name of this traitorous person was Jenkins Wosley, whojiad no bth?r recoininenda tion than his finejperson, Tis money and ';Us high family; for one of. his ancestors had ; been ' Lieutenant , .Governor of , the Commonwealth. .. ( ' The general was pacing up and down his library in deep reflection, his lips com pressed, and his brows bent. - The young 6ry was standing in a recess of the win dow, seemingly engaged in watching the - measured -movements of the sentry in ' front,' but in reality furtively scanning the . face' of the English general. Suddenly e'he officer turned and said, with, some cx- )citeme,nt: . , .'' . ,; Are you prepared to prove this, Mr. Vosiey?;, , . , :. , :' vi ; ' ;,; ' ":. , 'MHere ,.are . the letters,' .-.sir."';" It is well Mkncn that We has been more active than her father, if that were possible, m inspir ring the colony, with the opposition to the 'crown. It was she, sir, who copied, and , t it is rumored, half-dictated tli resolutions which passed in May last at Faneuil Hall. f;Jlf she remains in the city,' general, she will plot to youf mischief." ' "She must be secured! You think this 'plea o.f illness is but an excuse to be suf fered tp remain to act as a spy upon us?" ' " ' VVilhout doubt, air, J have no question ! but that she is in secret' correspondence ; ri with Samuel Adams, John Adams, Han oock. and other, rebel chiefs, of whom her .uncle is not the least." " i '"f'To. be ot his blood is enough to lead . r7e io fear her.'and to see that she" is not ''suffered to do us injury."' Here is her art ."ful letter to me' 5 ' u ". '4 , And Geherarilowe took from a file be l fore him on theYable, a paper which he ead aloud, as follows: ' " . " ""Sir: As you do not war upon women, -5 trust you will permit rr to remain in the ''city with an aged relative,' who is decrepit ahd Ions ah invalid, whom it would 1e fa- r'tal to attempt to remove : from. rier house. As, therefore she cannot avail herself of your permission tto leave with others, and j s cannot, in outy, aesen ner mnrmmes '"! I resnectfully ask of. your excellency per- ;' mission to remain quietly in our house l under the protection of a permit similar to ptthat you have granted to some other .families." v '--i ' v -' ' i c:.! "This is her letter,", remarked the gen eral, with some sharpness. ' ' Tt to deceive' vou, sir. I know her .weUVvour excellency. She is as talented . is she ia' beautiful, 'and proud: as she is . patriotic." "" VV " T. .. ' 6eautiful, and also youngt" observed rjth general, looking at him inquiringly.; Sio - Yes, your excellency; She is twenty, perhaps, - and with the regal loveliness of t;ieopatria.V , . , "I do not wish to arrest such a person," v.aatd the general, shaking his head. if-s I nave, placed the proofs of her capa n bility td do you mischief, in your excel- , tilency's hands," respo&de.d the young man biting his lips and looking vexed, as if ear ning, that', the : object at; which he aimed i; might be defeated,, after all his efforts to affect it.5.'- ! ' - ,"'-:..-:-r: I " -Yes; the proofs are clear enough. She A- h done enough as agent for her rebel- - Jious Wcle, and Xor.Hancock and Adams, p. to forfeit her,nead:a welt as tney, ne re ipohded, witCuigry decision., - By hav v in- her in mvDOwer I may not only pb lain papers of importance in her hands, iWn hav!i hold UDon her disloyal uncle , -i nA brincr him td termsA The artest shall r fhn jreaolving, lbja riMaJ general aeat- ed himself at his table, and wrote hastih a few lines, which ha read over Io himself, and then placed in the hands of an order ly whom he called from the hall. The man, receiving the note, touched the front of his cap, and departed to place it in the hands of the officer to whom it was ad dressed. . As the door closed upon him. the face of Jenkins Wosley, the rich tory colonist, lighted up with malicious gratifi cation." 'You seem to bo pleased, Wosley!" said tiie general, who could not but-re-inark the expression of elation on his face. "Yes, your excellency; I am always pleased to Sfe the 'enemies of the c:ovn 'secured from doing miseiiitf." ' Wlioro shall 1 imprison her?" asked thegeneral, as if perplexed to know what lie should do with his fair prisoner afu r arresting her. This inquiry was not ad dressed 'to any one, hut was rather 'think ing aloud. "For niy HhV 1 don't know what tcdo 'with her." "Place her on board one of the ships of war, sir,'?' suggested Wosley "it will be oilncult' to .ettect her escape irom one; while in the , city she may elude the vigi lance of guards." . "That is the suggestion. I will s?nd her on board the George, and entrust her safe-keeping to her old gray-headed cap tain, Griffith lie will be an honorable and safe jailer for her, and can give her one of his cabins. That afiVir is settled?" At this moment two or three gentlemen of his staff were announced and Jenkins Wosley glided out of the apartment with the step and look of a man who has been doing a disgraceful thing, and fears to meet the full gazo of honorable men. There stands at this day a venerable house in the center of the city, which still bears an air of aristocratic respectability in its elaborate front and massive style of architecture within. Towards this house, about nine o'clock in the evening, and about two hours sfter the issue of the or der of arfest of the young rebel lady, a file of eight soldiers advanced, led by a British captain. There was a green yard in Iront, in wlucli stood two large syca more trees, through the pending branches of which a light shone out from the par- lPr windows on the east wing of the man sion.-. ''..'-.' "Halt!" commanded tho officer, in on under tone. The file of soldiers halted in front of the gate, which the officer softly opened and passed through alone. ' The tower shutters of ihe window were drawn. and he could not lookinto the room; but listening, he heard the sound of a female voice. He returned to his men. and hav ing ordered two to the rear of the house. he lifted the brazen lion's head and knock ed at the front door, nnd at the satun time trying to '. open the door, which he found strongly secured. At the sound of the knock, a young la dy, who was' writing at a small escritoire in the room from : which - the' ljjht came, raised her head quickly, and placing a sealed letter in the hand of a tall, hand some young man in a half-military cos tume, she said earnestly: .'. - "Go! do not delay a moment! Colonel Warren must have thibefore day .M Tne young man hastily threwover his dress a countryman's coarse, Clue frock, placed upon his head a slouched farmer's hat, and taking the letter, placed it in the bottom of one of his coarse brogans. Again 'the knock was repeated, heavier than before. : : .' . ! "This bodes no good, Lawrence," said the young girl. "Do not linger! - Every thing depends on your, quitting the town in safety. If danger menaces, I cannot leave you, Miss Elizabeth," said the youth, re spectfully and earnestly. "j "You will show but the sincerity ot your friendship for me, by . obeying," she an swered, with an air of resolution. 'I know I; am presumptuous to hope, where I am so lowly. and you are so far above me, but " . Here the speech of the young colonist was interrupted by a third knock, louder and more imperative than the last; kissing her hand respectfully, he obeyed the en treating command of her eyes, and in stantly left the apartment. I ' ; He did not, however,' on reaching the hall, go out by the door by which he had an hour before entered, bearing a letter to the maiden from, the camp of the army outside, but alarmed for her safety by the loud knocking, he hurried to the upper entry, and went out upon a balcony, Irom which he could look down into the front yard and see who was at the door. Upon discovering the English officer, who at that moment had called his men to break in the door, he flew to warn the young la dy of the character of her visiters. But in descending the stairs he came upon the bayonets of the two soldiers who had come round by the rear. ' ' f'Stand! you are our' prisoner!" they cried, presenting their weapons close at his breast. ' 1 T ' Quick as lightning, with a countryman's staff which he held in his hands, he knock ed, their glittering bayonets down, and dashing the men outside, in a moment stood in the presence of the young lady. "It is you they have come to arrest: Fly with me dearest Elizabeth!" And leave my dying auntf Escape with the dangerous papers you have on your person! Do not fear for me! They are all that can convict me or harm me! In your instant escape lies my safety!" "True! I will hope the best! They dare not harm you!" , ' C - "You have not a moment to spare!" she cried.. "The door is broken open, and the ball is filling with soldiers! Escape by that way!" " The young man hesitated, as if he was balancing duty against duty, and the next moment opened a door on the south side of the room, and passed through, it. It was occupied by an invalid female, who asked what was the cause of the uproar He. however, did not' reply.,; He fejt that he had about - his' person evidence that would imprison, the young lady .whom, though in humble lile himself, he loved; and trusting to the honor of British soldiers to respect a lady, he hastened to secure the letter which he had no timo to remove .from his person and destroy. lie sprang through a window to the ground, and through the gardens finally succeeded in reaching a boat in Back Hay, in which he embaiked for the oppo site shore, where the palriot army lay, (lis distress and anxiety, as he rowed across the silent waters, can only be im ngincd. He at one moment condemned himself for leaving her; hut the next, he ex cused himself as ho reflected that his own arrest would confirm the suspicions which had probably' led to the visit of the soldiers. Having reached the camp and presented the letter to its address, a letter which de tailed a plan "how General Howe might be surprised nt head quarters, " he return ed immediately to the besieged city, indif ferent to his own safety so long as he was fell in suspense of that of the maiden. Upon reaching tho mansion, about four o'clock in the morning, he found a British sentinel -on duly before it. The house itself was still, and he rcsolvud to gain access to it thut he might learn whether his fars were realized. To have ques tioned the sentry would have exposed him self to suspicion. He, there.'ore, by a way well known to him as the bearer of letters io and from the maiden, gained a poplar tree that stood near the west end of the house, and by climbing it he reached the roof, through which, by a trap door, he descended softly into the apartments of the house. Upon reaching the parlor he found a light burning; iut as he was about to enter, he started back with a cry of hor- hror. Upon a table lay the corpse ol the invalid, just being laid out bj' two old wo men. The escritoire was broken open, and books, papers and furniture strewn about in disorder. lie was about to enter, forgetting tin risk he would run, for ho recognized one of the old women as a bitter tor', when he heard one say M the other: "That is the first corpse I ever dreamed as died o' fright! No soor er had they carried off the young rebel miss, then she got right up out of bed, ran in here, which she hajnt dene for five years, screamed after her niece, and fell dead as a stone!" "It was time she was dead," said the other old crone. "I don't see the use o folks Jivin' arter they get to be bed-iid. and are worse than dead. What did the captain say he'd give you for help lay iu i out.'" "Two dollars!" answered the hag, chuckling as she bound the jaw of the corpse. ' " That's what he promised me. It'll be apretty job. I wonder what they'll do with niiss'f" "I reckon they'll hong her! They say she's been doin' enough to hang ten rebels. "It would be a mity pity to put arjope round her pretty, white neck," answered the other, with a shako of her head. '"' "A pretty white neck '11 fit a hangman's rope as well as a dried and shrivelled one like yours or mine!" responded the taller and uglier of the two, with a sneer. "II we was found carrying on correspondence with the enemy outside, they'd hang us up high as llaman. Her beauty, I hope, wont save her!" "It oughtn't to! A little vitro! sprinkled in her face will oon56poil that!" Lawienco heard all this with mingled interest and indignation. That the maiden wos arrested, was now clear to him. Bui where was she?" In whose power was she? By whose order or information? These were' questions which he could not answer. -Ho was about to enter the room and ask them if they could tell him where she had been taken; but an instant's reflection - showed him the weakness of thus exposing himself; for he knew that he was suspected of being a spy. and that men were on the watch to detect him; and therefore did he change his disguise every time he came into the town. His uncer tainty was, however, relieved in an unlooked-for manner. The front door was abruptly opened, and he only had timo to withdraw into a shaded niche, when the captain and two soldiers came in, and crossing the hall, entered the parlor where the corpse lay. Upon seeing it he uttered an oath expressive of angry surprise. "What? not in her coffin yet?" "The man hasn t brought it, yet, yer honor," answered one of the women. It aint our fault. W e ve yearned our four dollars. , : 'Confound your dollars! This body must be carried out and buried before day. It is the orders Irom the general The sicht of it by day will raise a riot in tho town, for thev will say we killed her It is an ugly affair, and must be hushed up." "When is tho young lady to be hanged, captain?" asked the shortest of the wo men. "Id give a dollar to see iti" You'll not have that pleasure, old wo man." - "She is to be kept a prisoner." "In the jail?" asked the other. "Not exactly. ' If you don't behave you may get there! This young lady will probably be honored witli a slnp-ot-war for her prisoner. - And the general by the way, desires me to find some female who will be her attendant." . "Be locked up with her?" "Not exactly locked up. She will have a cabin to herself. You will do to wait on her. Will you take the office?" "For gold!" answered the crone, ex tending her thin, bony . hands. "You shall have a guinea a week-" "Done." answered the woman. "I am ready." - ' vB at the end : of Long warf at eight o'clock, where you will find a boat going off to the George frigate. , I shall be there to take you on board with me," answered the o nicer. v . - At this moment a soldier came in, fol lowed by the undertaker, carrying upon his back a rough pine coffin in which to place the body of this delicately nurtured and well-born lady. It was rudely nailed up, and on the shoulders ol lour nrtn was carried forth and buried by torch-light in an obscure corner of the Granary bury-ing-ground buried as murderers bury their victims. Lawrence had followed at a distance, unseen and beheld where they laid her, that he might be able to inform the young lady, her niece, should he ever behold her again. Ho knew where she was to be held a prisoner; and he took his way from the grave towards the water-side. It was just break of day when he found himsell on the pier-head from which the British boats embarked to the fleet at anchor in the har bor. He was still dressed as a farmer, with his goad-stick in bis hand. As the red, morning sky deepened into the glory of sunlight, he searched with his eye among the .hips for the George frigate, as if ho would know it instinctively. But he at. length resolved to wait until it was eight o'clock. "Perhaps," sai 1 he, as he sat down up on the end of a spar; and gazed wistfully over the water, "perhaps she is not yet taken on board. Perhaps they will bring her down at eight o'clock." It seemed to him as if the time would never arrive. His suspense was exquisite ly painful. She whom he loved above all earthly objects, was in the hands of her enemies, either in the town or on board one of the ships. In either case, she was helpless and iu their power. Resolutions to effect her rescue filled his mind. But how to effect it, or what he should do, he could not conclude upon. He tried to wait patiently until eight o'clock came, hoping then something definite would be revealed. Seated in his coarse frock and brogans and slouched harvest hat, leaning upon his goad-stick, he watched all that transpired around him. lie saw the sen tinels pace up and down till relieved by tho relief-guard; he saw boats passing and repassing from tho fleet to the town; he saw gay officers land and walk up info the city, and others embark. He beheld boats, crowded with troops, rowed from point to point. People came in numbers on the pier to gaze at the scene. But his attention was drawn to the presence of Jenkins Wosley, who came lounging along near him, playing with a superb watch seal, and wearing richly laced clothes, with a silver hilled sword at his side, and diamond buckles in his polished shoes; conclusion next week. ' - . I Have Seen. 1 have seen the most worthless and lazy fellow dress the most fashion able. I have seen the most talented young men turn tipplers and die drunkards. 1 have seen men, who boasted much of their wealtlk, who were not able to pay their fuTlor." '" " ; -- - , . I have seen men who made much noise about their bravery and daring exploits; and I have seen the same men run from a goose. I have seen men - run in debt without any probability of being able to make payment. I have seen a man who requested anoth er to solicit him to become a candidate foi an office. I have seen a man urging another to be come a candidate; and I have seen the same fellow vote against iim at the election. 1 have seen parents urging their children o marry against their inclination; and 1 . . , 1 . 1 . 1 nave seen a loveiy young gin marry a rich old bachelor merely for his wealth; and . . . I have seen the same young girl die broken-hearted within a year. I have seen the young, the beautiful, and the talented, marry a dashing, brainless fop, because he too was rich; and 1 have seen them, ever after, drag out a wretched and miserable existence. An Old Man. The Laboring Man. Mark, says a sensible writer, the laboring man, who breakfasts at six. and then walks, perhaps two or three miles to his work. He is full of health, and a stranger to doctors. Mark, on the other hand, your cleik, who takes tea and toast at eight, and gets down to the store at nine, or half-past. He is a pale, effeminate creature, full of sarsapa- nlla, and patent worm medicine, and pills and things. What a pity such do riot lay aside the yard-stick and the scissors, and take up the scythe or the flail for a year or two. By remaining in their present occu pation, they only help to fill up cemeteries, and that s about as miserable use of hu rnanity.as you can name. 07" Hour-glasses were formerly much used in pulpits, to denote the proper length of a sermon.. George Herbert says: "The parson exceeds not an hour in preaching. because all ages have thought that acorn petency. All ages but ours, and we think it a little more than a competency It is said that this custom was borrowed from the ancient Greek and Roman ora tors, who declaimed by an hour-glass. In many of the old records are charges for this needful instrument for instance, in Christ Church,' St. Catharine's, London, under the year 1564. this entry occurs: Paid for an hour-glass that hanged by the pulpit when the preacher doth make a sermon that he may know how the hour passeth away." ' The Rcm Traffic in New York. The New York Tribune calls attention to the following statistics of the rum traffic in that city:': "The whole number of places where al coholic liquors are sold in this city is 7,103 Unlicensed, 1,222; reported disorderly, 1,058?- with grocery-shops, 3,789; lager beer shops, 1,088; exclusively wholesale 183. Of the taverns for travelers there are only 338. Open on Sunday, 5.C93. Drinking places where boxing matches are allowed, 11; resorts of thieves, 126; resorts of ' prostitutes, full 600; billiards. 216: dance-houses of prostitutes, &c, 162; dog fights allowed in 6; rat-killing allowed in 4; cock-fighting allowed in 7." ; THE WIDOW AND HER SON. BY WASHINGTON 1SVING. I approached the grave. The coffin was placed on the ground. On it were inscribed the name and age of the deceas ed. 'George Somers, aged 26 years.' The poor mother had been assisted to kneel down at the head of-it. Her with ered hands were clasped, as if in prayer; but I could perceive, by a feeble rocking of her body, and convulsive motion of her lips, that she was gazing on the last relics oj her son. with the yearning of a mother's heart. Preparations were now made to deposit the coffin in the earth. There was that bustling stir, which breaks so harshly on the feelings of grief and affliction; direc tions were given in the cold tones of busi ness; and there was a striking of spades into the gravel; which, at the grave of those we love is of all sounds the moat withering. The bustle seemed to awaken the mother from a wretched revery. She raised her glazed eyes and looked about with a faint wilduess. As the men approached with cords to lower the coffin into tho grave, she wrung her hands, and broke into an agony of grief. The poor woman who attended her took her by the arm and endeavored to raise her from the earth, and whisper something like, consolation. 'Nay, now nay now don't take it so sorely to heart.' , But tiie mother could only shake her head, nnd wring her hands, as one not to be comforted. As they lowered the body into the earth, the creaking of the cords seemed to ago nize her; but when on some accidental ob struction, there was a jostling of the coffin, all tho tenderness of the mother burst forth, as if any harm could come to him that was far beyond the reach of worldly suffering. 1 could see no more my heart swelled info my throat my eyes filled with tears I felt as if I were acting a barbarous part in standing by and gazing idly on this scene of maternal anguish. 1 wan dered to another part of the churchyard, where I remained until Ihe funeral had dispersed. It was some time before I loft the-place. On my way home, I met with the woman who had acted as comforter; sha was just returning from accompanying the mother lo her lonely habitation, and I drew from her some particulars connected with the af fecting scene 1 had witnessed. The parents of the deceased had resid ed in the village from childhood. They had inhabited one of the neatest cottages, and by virtuous rural occupations and the assistance of a small garden, had support- .ed tlfernselves crcditably and comfortably, and led a happy and blameless lile.tTTYo had one son, who had grown up to be the pride of their age. But, unfortunately, this son was tempt ed, during a year of scarcity and agricul tural hardship, to enter the service ot one of the small crafts thut plied on the neigh boring river, lie had not been long tn this employ when he was entrapped by a press gang, and carried off to sea.. His larents received tidings ot his seizure, but beyond that they could learn nothing. It was the loss of their main prop. The fath er, who was already infirm, grew heartless and melancholy, and sunk into his grave. The widow, left lonely in her old age and feebleness, could no longer support herself, and came upon the parish. lime passed till one day she heard the cottage door, which faced the garden, sud denly open. A stranger came in; and seemed to be looking eagerly and wildly around. He was dressed in seamen s clothes, was emaciated and ghastly pale, and bore the air of one broken by sickness and hardships. He saw his mother and hastened toward her, but his steps were faltering; he sunk on his knees before her, and sobbed like a child. I he poor wom an gazed upon him with a vacant and wandering eye. Oh, my dear, dear mother! don t you know your son? your poor boy", George?' It was, indeed, the wreck of her once noble lad; who, shattered by wounds, by sickness, and foreign imprisonment, had, at length, dragged his wasted limbs home ward, to repose among the scenes of his childhood. The rest oi the story is soon told for the young man lingered but a few weeks, and death came to his relief. The next Sunday after the funeral 1 have described, I was at the village church. when to my surprise 1 saw the poor old woman tottering-down the aisle lo her ac customed seat on the steps of the altar She made an effort to put on something like, mourning lor her son; and nothing could be more touching than this struggle between pious affection and utter poverty a black riband or so a faded black hand kerchief, and one or two such humble at tempts to express, by outward signs, the grief which passes show. - When I looked around upon the storied monument, the stately hatchments, the cold marble pomp with which grandeur mourn ed magnificently over departed pride. -and turned to this poorwidow bowed by age and sorrow, at the altar ol her God, and offering up the prayers and praises of a pious though broken heart. I felt that this living monument ot real grief was worth all. ' I related the story to some of the wealthy members of the congregation, and they were moved by it. , They exerted them selves to render her situation more com fortable, and to lighten her afflictions. . It was, however, but smoothing a few steps to the grave. In the course of a Sunday or two after, she was missed from her usua seat at church, and before I left the neigh borhood, I heard with satisfaction that she had just breathed her last, and had gone to- rejoin those she loved in that world where sorrow is never known end friends are never separated, Common sense is an excellent article although there are but few men, or women either, who use it, except in homoRpathic 008.es, - . : : " .. ' . '?: .. uri03ities of Sleep. There are soma curious incidents on record of sleeping and waking. . In Tur key, if a person happens to fall asleep in the neighborhood ot a poppyfield, and the wind blows over towards him, he becomes gradually narcotised, and would die if the country-people, who are well acquainted with the circumstance, did not bring him to the next well or stream, and empty pitch er after pitcher on his face and body. Dr. Oppanheim, during his residence in Tur key, owed his life to this simple and effica cious treatment. Dr. Graves, from whom this anecdote is quoted, also reports the case of a gentleman, thirty years of age, who, from long continued sleepiness, was reduced to a complete living skeleton, un able to stand on nis lrgs. It was partly owing to disease, but chiefly to the abuse of mercury and opium, until atlast unable to pursue his business, he sank into abject poverty and woe. Dr. Reid mentions a friend of his who, whenever anything oc curred to distress him soon became drow sy, and fell asleep. A fellow student also, at Edinburgh, upon hearing suddenly the unexpected death of a near relative, threw himself on his bed, and almost instanta neously, amidst the glare of noon-day, 1 J I t t A .1 suhk into a proiouuu siumoer. Another person, reading aloud to one of his dear est friends stretched on his death-bed, fell fast asleep, and with the book still in his hand, went on reading, utterly unconsci ous of what he was uttering. A woman at Henault slept seventeen or eighteen hours a day for fiiteen days. Another is recorded to have slept once four days. A man twenty five years of age, at Timsbu ry, near Boalh, once slept for a month, and in two years he slept again for sev enteen days. Dr. Macuish mentions a woman, who sppnt three-fourths of her lite in sleep; and Dr. Elliotsoo, who has col lected several instances of this sort, quotes the case of a young lady who slept for six weeks, and recovered. Herotus, in "Melpomene," alludes incredulously to a race of Scythians, or Tartars, in the ex treme North, who were reported to sleep six months of ihe year. "1 wo young gentlemen,", savs Dr. Graves, "collegp students, went to bed in perfect health the night previous to their .examination; they slept soundly; the elder ona arose early in the morning, and left the younger one in bed still asleep; he remained so for two hours more, having slept altogether for more than ten hours, when he awoke in a state of complete insanity. The same author likewise relates the case of a gen tleman who lell asleep with his head rest ing on his bends, folded together before him on the table.after dinner. On awaking, one arm- was paralyzed, and remained paralytic, to tho day of his death, which fotlawcd r.ct" lorrg a fterwwfk--TJte--cele brated General Elliott, Frederic the Great, and John Hunter, seldom slept more than four or five.hours in the tweuty-four. Dr. Macnish mentions a lady, in perfect health, who never slept more than three or.' four hours in the twenty-four, and then only a half an hour at a time. General Pichegru, according to Sir Gilbert Blane, had oulv ! one hour's sleep in the same space of lime, for 'a whole year. The venerable St. Au gustine, of Hippo, prudently divided his hours in three parts; eight he devoted to! sleep, eight to recreation, and eight to con verse with the world. De Molvre slept twenty hours out ol the twenty-four. Quinn the celebrated player, could athis pleasure. slumber twenty-four hours in succession; and Dr. Kti l could, when he likd, take as much food and sleep as much sleep as would serve him'' for a; couple pf days. Theodosius, falling asleep in the morning- wutchof his last great battle, saw in dreams an apparition that assured him of a victo ry over his desperate foe Eugenius; and the issue ol the forthcoming day verified, coincided with this strange presentiment. The Dauphin, son of the unfortunate Louis XVI., the descendant of the Sover eigns of France and Navarre, shut up in a loathsome nook, with a hole in the wall, through which his scanty rations were thrust, was killed by the want of sleep. His feverish temples were scarcely laid upon his pallet, when a stern voice pealed round the walls Capet ou es tut dors tu? By a refinement ol cruelty of this descrip tion, his ductile and confiding spirit, drawn out to the last gasp, silently gave up the ghost, on the 8th of June, in his 1 tenth year, i7yo. . . : ; ' The famous bt. Dominic never reposed except on the floor, or the bare boards. which served him lor a bed. ' ot. Isona ventura, one of the first Franciscans, made use of a common stone of some size, in stead of a pillow; and St. Peter of Alcan tara slept but one hour and a half in the twenty-four hours for forty years together, either kneeling or standing, with his head leaning aside, on a little piece of wood fastened for that purpose in the wall. He usually ate but once in three days; yet he lived to be old, though bis body was so attenuated and weak that it seemed to be composed-of the roots of trees, and his skin so parched that it resembled the dry bark of a tiee, rather than fiesh. People may sleep in all sorts of postures. Ac cording to Mr. Wilkinson, the ancient Egyptians,' who, as every body knows, shaved their scalps, slept with their heads resting on an iron prong, like that of a pitdji-fork, welted with something, soft This they did. for the sake of keeping their heads cool, which they supposed strength ened their wits. The postilion '.will sleep on horseback, and the sentinel at his post ; An entire battalion of infantry have been known to sleep on the march. It is about three or four o'clock in the morning that this propensity to sleep is the most over powering the . moment seized upon by troops for driving in the evening's out-posts and taking the bivouac by surprise. - Ala niacs are reported, particularly, in the Eastern hemisphere, to become furiously vigilant during the full ' of : the moon. more especially when the deteriorating ray of its polarised light is permitted total into their apartment; hence the name Zu natics. There u certainly a greater prone ness to disease . during, sleep than in a wakinglate; for those who pass th night in the Champegna di Roma inevitably be come infected with its noxious air while -travellers who go through without stopping escape the miasma. ; Intense cold inducts sleep, and- those who perish in the snow sleep on till they sleep the sleep-of death. Journal of Prychologieal Medicine-.,, ' r .. .r . ., I . From the Sari Francisco. Herald. ' John Hitchel, the Irish Tatripfc v John Mitchel, the Irish exile, who escap ed from Van Dieman's Land, arrived here on Wednesday afternoon,' accompanied by his wife and children, and is now lodg ing at Jone's Hotel. : No words; of ours can express the delight with which we weU r come this gallant and sterling patriot io the shores of California. Since Robert -. Emmet offered up his.pure life on the scaf. fold in vindication of his country's rights,", no such man as John: Mitchel his ever flung himself into the breach in-defense -' of Irish independence, ; , .. ,- r j a i The circumstances of the case are brief ly these: Mr. P. J. Smyth, of New York. (himself a rebel of 1848.) went to Van uieman s land with the express mission to rescue some one or more of the Irish State prisoners.- - Nothing could have been easier than'to escape, if they could v thought of. doing so clandestinely .-end . without regard to their nromisetiinnvln order to discharge themselves of that oblW gation, they felt it necessary to formally ' withdraw their parole before the proper ' authority, and present themselves: Uk be token into custody. The parole is to, the . effect that they would jiot escape from the colony so long as "they held a "ticket of leave," which gave them a species of Jib." erty within a certain designated "ffoUc ' district; but this . "ticket of leaye'VT a thing which may. at any time be taken :': away by the'eonvict authorities or resign ed by the prisoners. ;Y ...A : ' Now. while Mr: Smyth was in .Van Die man's Land, and before , any movement whatever was made by any of the prison- - , era, the local, government, by means Kf -some of their eaves-dropping detectives, had learned his real views, and Mr; Smyth was actually arrested, held in castody&r three day s and most ignominiously abused, under a warrant directed against John -Vl Mitchel.; Mr. Smyth, in short, was taken ., for Mr.' Mitchel, under the false and jnso lent assumption tbat'Mr? Mitchel was ab sconding, whilst he was all the time living quietly at his cottage in BotbwU, nd was under parole of honor not, to. abscond. This was a gross outrage on Mrv Smyth, and an outrage hardly less gross; oh:Mr. MitcheL He now, at length, resolved to avail himself of Mr. Smyth's offars of s sistanoe, and leave the islands not clan destinely, but .openly. ' .Accordingly : ho wrote and desnatched the folloWintr-nofft "J to tiie Lieut; Governor, Sir Wm.'Denison; " Both well, ' JunP 8, T853. - . Sib: I hereby resign -the "comparative liberty" called "ticket-of leave," hdie : voke my parole of honor. I shall forth. with present myself before the ponce magis trate of Bothnell, at his police bfEcei'shdw" him this letter, and offer myself to betaken into custody. I am, sir. your-obedient ' servant,' - - . J John Mitchki.."-. The next day, the 9th June, Mr''Mitcfil - and , Mr. Smyth rode io y together to the , ; township of Bothwell, went to the police " office door," dismounted; arid' walked tn.' They found the- magistrate in, his &6ibu iiie pouce cierK was will) 0'mj a consta ble was in the adjoining room,' and.ahbtnv . er constable was as usual on guard at fhe door. The police barrack and watch house stand opposite.. '' " ' "-l Arrived in the magistrateVroPmYMr. Mitchel handed him an open copy of the ' abo ve note, and requested him to readmit. - The magistrate cast his' eye over if & mo ment, and then looked up to Mf. Mitchel, who deliberately desired hinv to observe the purport of that note and took the Wu- ble , of twice explaining to him that .'the . parole was at an end, arid " that he had .. come to be taken into custody!' ' Aflhei official seemed still either bewildered lr frightened, the two gentlemen put on Their hats; Mr. Mitchel wished the magistrate a good morning, and they left -the office. Immediately when they turned their backs, ; the magistrate made a loud uproar, and , he and some of the constables rushed out, , calling on them to stop, and comtnsitd. " - ing every. one to stop them, ; The'cpoaAa ble on guard, however, hadliis hands 00- ';. cupied in holding two horses; the other in- ' ,- naouants ot tne town toonea-on uugluag, ; ;t v-; ana well pleased; and, in short, the. two V fsc'i fugitives mounted their horses and rode . off. They found no necessity, to use.or . i even to exhibit arms, though bolrr were '"ii. well armed , - . . . - J Alter thev left Bothwell,. however,., flit . .' C true difficulty commenced. IMc Smyth : -i-"f changed horses and coats with' -.Mr jtyt$li "' f t. :'. '-' el, and they parted and'rode different ways . through the forest. . Bothwell is the ceo- tral ' police district of the island, and" be- v ; ', tween it and the sea extend several lines : .u,, . of police stations, to all of which JntellU " ? gence was instantly conveyed by moult-. ' I ed "express constables, Mr. .Mitchel re mained six.weeks after that day in the js . : land, without being able to' get on board a ship, though one was immediately placed - , ; : at his service by a patriotio ship owner ,of sVv Sydney, ! After many hundred miles. riding r ";f " and in several disguises he at length 'ot off under an. assumed name, in a Brilislu V . : . vessel, which, at Tahita, was fortunately; i overtaken by the American barqoe JcIia'- ' Ann, bearing his wife 4bd family,' unde -VV Mr. Smyth's escort, to-San Francisco', v tVjJ Tahita; Mir Mitchel was transhipped O now stands free on American soil., w, j -j ' - T. -, - - fj$ Extract from the .argument ". oftv-:v young lawyer before a Mi8sissippljus0ew:v.i May it please the court rwduld trtj!Jff VTrs' Uye for thirteen ; hundred centuries . oni5a small end of a thunderbolt chew":h r "!-;. 1 V ; -ged end of a flash of lightnip w J ; the corners pi a. Virginia wj ,r ..i-hi'L "vl JU have my bowels torn out by " ,lr' ,.: .'; " than to be thus' bamboozled by -tS . '- ' ' ' - 7 ' V : -i' . - . - - !'' r ft- r ..-' .