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The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, November 23, 1853, Image 1

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v&:: JA8. R. MORRIS, Editor and Proprietor.
v 4.
iJSKMa--?i,au per Annum, in Advance. -
1 . - ' ---;:y'.
i :"!:- vV-''--"' I'm
t f ""f" ;.lit' Hi There
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.
?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
"Two dollars!" answered the hag,
chuckling as she bound the jaw of the
' " 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
"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
"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
"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;
I have seen the same men run from a
I have seen men - run in debt without
any probability of being able to make
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
"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." ;
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
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
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
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 ..-' .

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