Bloomington herald. [volume], March 26, 1841, Image 1

About Bloomington herald. [volume] (Bloomington, I. T. [Iowa]) 1840-1849

Image provided by: State Historical Society of Iowa

                
pji/^vrjsi»
"JOB PRINTING.
Tut office oi" the Herald being well su^lwd with
great variety of Job Type, the Proprietor pre
pared to execute in the neatest style,
s^ttUv-
BOOKS,
PAMPHLETS,
,'l IterLARB,
KAMI-BILLS,
CAIIOS,
WILL
practice io the several courts of the Ter
ritory, arid particularly in the counties ot
Johnson, Cedar, Linn, and Washington. Cj3 Col
lections in any part ot the Territory punctually at
tended to. 16-ay Fek 12,1841.
LAW PARTNERSHIP.
A S I N S & I A S i
A V E associated themselves in the practice of
Law, and will practtce in conjunction, in the
counties of Muscatine, Cedar, Linn, Washington and
Louisa. Business entrusted with either will receive
the prompt attention of both.
8. C. HASTINGS,
on. 5 E
Bloomingtt
0wries OS h£8?T (7T
U I S E
BIOWIW®* HBIP*I.D
V:»CT WKKLY,"
Y II O A S U E S
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION.
Tkrtt Dollar* per annum in advance
r*rcc
and Fifty Cents in six month*
Fottr Dollars at the end of the year.
TERMS OF ADVERTISING.
F»r one square of VZUnes,nrst insertion, One
Dollar and for each subsequent insertion Fif
ty Vents.
(£j- Liberal discount* allowed to those who atweir
tise bv the year.
(jjTLetters addressed to the Editors, in order to re
ceive attention, MCST BE POST-PAII.
AGENTS FOIt T1IK HEKALl).
fr1*The following gentlemen are authorized to re
ceive
subscriptions, and receipt tor all moneys paid
therefor. Some of them have not been spoken to
on the subject—it any such feel unwilling to act in
lease notify tfs.
thai capacity, they witt please notify OS,
Pattou McMellan.
John King, P. M.
Prairie La Port, Clayton,
Dubuque,
Bcllview, Jackson do
Davenport, Scott do
Wyoming, Muscatine
W m. A. Warren,
Andrew F. Rus&ell,
Maj. Shcrkcy,
V. R. Tompkins,
Win. R. Rankin,
Kelson Hastings,
S. C. Trowbridge,
Joel Leverich, Marion, Linn Couuty,
Win. Chamber*, 3
John Ronalds, Harrison, Louisa County
Bcmhart Henn, Burlington, Des Moines
Amos La-Id, Fort Madison Lee co.
ry The Postmaster General has decided that post
masters may frank letters containing remittances to
publishers, in payment of subscriptions. ______
SCOTT HICHWAK,
Cedar county,
H. MUSGRAVE,
\VfujTcmlc and Retail Grocer, Forwarding
and Commission Merchant, and
Dealer in J'roduce,
Bfcoo.HJ.vGTO-V, IOWA TKIIIUTORT.
ADAM OGII.VIE,
Forwarding and Commission Merchant,
Blaomingtun, low ft. __________
W. F. IJEWEBLU,
Forwarding" and Commission Merchant*
Bl.OJMlNOTOX, I. T.
Gj" Having lecn appointed Public Auctioneer for
Muscatine county, bo is at all times ready to attend
to sales in that way,
O V K
UilG EON AND PHYSICIAN,
WLOMIXI!, I.
T.
DOCTOR M'KEE,
STRKET,
rAVE
bet week hoxt
1X1) SECOND.
IRS. SMITH & REEDER
associated themselves together for the
practice of Medicine, and they offer tljer ser
vices to the public generally.
GCJ~OiIice on Second street, near Holiingsworth's
Drug store.
A I E Tailor.
FL^SNO? OS SECO.VD STIIEKT OPPOSITE THE
WM, G. WOODWARD,
A O N E Y A A W
BLOOM1NGT0N, IOWA.
v
1
CO.
Montpelier, do
Tipton, Ceilar county
Rochester, do
Iowa City, Johnson co.
rt
IN ALL ITS VARIOUS BRANCHES,
i2suc5 as
LA U ELS,
BILLS OF LJLBIHU,
BALL TICKETS,
JUSTICES' BLANKS,
BLANK DKKIJS,&C.
WIL.JLIAM C. UEAGANJ
ATTORNEY & COUNSELLOR AT LAW,
Iowa City, Iowa Territory,
Pan
OFFICK.
IKAD C. DAY,
a o n e y A A W
BLOOMINOTOS,IOWA TF.II.
0C/*Oflice on Second Street, third door1elow the
Post Office. Recorder's Office in the same building
T. S. PAKV1N,
A O N E Y A A W
BLOOMI NGTUN,I.T.
GEORGE GREENE,
Attorney and Counsellor at Jbaic,
MARION, LIXX Co., I. T.
J. W. PARKER,
A O N E Y A A W
DAVENPORT, I. T.
M'lLLIAM R. RANKIN,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW
TIPTON", CEDAR Co., I. T.
WiH practice in the several courts of the Territory.
Will. B. TYSON,
O W A I N & O I S S I O N
WHEELING, VA.
HOUSE, SIGN AND ORNAMENTAL
£3 B. llARGRAVES will attend to the.above
ousmess, in all its various branches, with neal
accuracy and daspatch. Also, Glazing and Gild-
J,1e-
Any busiucss entrusted to him will receive
prompt attention, and be executed in a workmanlike
ftianaer. 4-ny Blooming ton, Nov. 20.
From Graham's Magazine.
THE FATHER'S BLESSI.YG,
BY MRS. 3. A. WHELP LEY.
HE wind moaned in low and fitful goits
around the mansion, sounding at times, as it
the wailitiffs of departed spirits were borne
upon the blast, when Mary Levingston sat
alone in tlie solitude of her chamber. Her
lamp was hid in a recess at a distance, and
casting its pale and feeble beams across the
darkened room scarcely disclosed her drooping
firrure, or the tears upon herchcek. It was not
that the fearful tumult without had effected her
imagination, nor the thought that her only
brother might be exposed to all the dangers of
the coast. ".Something that more deeply touch
ed her happiness awoke her grief. Wild, tu
multuous thoughts agitated her bosom, and
mocked the storm that shook her casement,
ard roared in all its fury around her.
The substantial mansion of Mr. Levingston
was situated in a delightful town in New Jer
sey. Here he had trained up an interesting
and lovely family. Four of his daughters
were married three of them were settled in
the same town with their father the other re
sided in the city of New York. His only son,
possessing many virtues, but a wild and roving
disposition, had, in opposition to his father's
advice, gone to sea, and had not been seen by
any of his family for four years. Mary Lev
ingston was*the sole remaining daughter at
home. J'he was the sun that lit up her fath
er's dwelling. Swift and light as the fawn
had been her footstep till of late when a cloud
had passed over her gentle bosom, and obscu
red its brighness. A blast had swept over the
flower and it was changed but neither the
cloud had been seen, nor the blast heard. Then
wherefore this change?
It was well known to Mr. Lcvii^gston's fam
ily, that a strong and bitter alienation of feel
ing existed between himself and Mr. James,
an early, and once dear friend, who, at the time
of which we speak, resided in New York. So
exasperated had Mr. L. become by a series of
ungrateful acts on the part of this early friend,
that on pain of his everlasting displeasure, he
had forbidden his children ever associating
with the family. Unfortunately for Mary, du
ring a visit to the city, she had met with a
son of Mr. James, and it was not until her af
fections were unchangeably fixed, that she had
discovered his relationship to the most bitter
en amy of her father. Admiring Mary at first
sight, and conscious of the enmity between the
families, her lover had sought an introduction
lo her under a false name, and it was lung be
fore she discovered the truth.
When she did so, however, Iwr determina
tion was soon made. Obedience had been the
law of her life, and she resolved at once to sac
rifice her own feelings, in preference to that of
her kind father's wishes. She felt pained,
moreover, that her lover should have deceived
her even to win her affections. She fled from
the scene of danger but she eofcld not fly
from herself. In her own bosom she carried
the image she had so fondly cherished, and
which had been the object of her waking and
sleeping dreams. It was after a long struggle,
in which she had almost conquered, that she
received a letter—which had caused her pres
ent grief—written by her sister, and informing
her that her lover was about to sail for Europe,
and asked for a last interview, if only to beg
her forgiveness, and bid her farewell forever.
"I will see him," said Mary "and convince
him there is no hope, and then I will return
and confess all to my beloved father and throw
myself upon his tnercy. He will not cast me
off when he finds I did not err knowingly."
She rose from her chair, as she thus spoke,
arranged her dress, and descended to the parlor,
with a countenance from which, except to a
suspicious eye, every tracc of grief had van
ished.
You must not leave as so long again, ray
daughter," said her venerable father, as she
entered the room. My home appears almost
cheerless, unless I hearyocr voice. Sinj to
us one of your sweet sonys."
What shall 1 sing, dear father? Shall it
be your favorite, Grace Darling?"
Not Grace Darling to-night, my love, it is
mournful and tells of shipwreck and death."
Well, I will sing my own favorite," said
Mary, seating herself at the piano, it shall be
'My heart's in the Highlands,
My heart is not here."'
Hie parents looked at each other and amiled,
as their beautiful daughter struck the keys
for they felt that few beings were as lovely as
their own Mary.
"Dear papa said she at length, suddenly
stopping and turning around, 1 want to ask
a favor of you,—I am sure mamma will grant
it. Let me go to New York next week.—
There now, I knew you would,—you are al
ways euch a kind and indulgent papa," and
throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed
him tenderly.
Well, if mamma gives her consent, I sup
pose I must give mine. But, dear Mary, don't
come home this time so down-hearted as you
did from the last visit you paid your sister.—
There now, since you have got your boon,
play me another song."
Mary felt the blood rush to her very brow at
this chance remark of her father but turning
around to her piano, she struck into a march,
to hide her emotion.
In a few days she set forth to New York,
with a heart, vaccilating between duty and
love,—determined, however, to permit only
one interview, and then to bid her lover adieu
forever.
You will have a strong advocate in my
wife," said Mr. to Mr. James, who
sat on the sofa by Mary Levingston, the eve
ning of her arrival. She is resolved, she says,
to return home with her sister, hoping she may
be enabled to soften the feelings of Mr. Lev
ingston toward your father."
I hope she may prove a'successful plead
er," said the lover, and prepare the way for
my casting myself at his feet when I return.
Since I have obtained my sweet Mary's for
giveness, i feel that I can now with courage
brave the hardships of the deep. The thought
that she loves me, will be the sun that will
light my path in a distant clime. The thought
that she is my advocate with her father fills
with the conviction that the ancient enmity wF
U E S
O A S
TH'IIEE O It
be buried in oblivion and thai all will sopn Be
well."
You are far more sanguine, as to the re
sult, dear Edward, than I am," said Mary
I have little hope myself of succeeding with
my father. I know his feelings so well on this
point, that I tremble lest I have sinnned be
yond forgiveness. One thing, here, in the
presence of those that are so dear, 1 solemnly
declare, though my heart may be crushed, nev
er to unite my destiny to one his judgment dis
a*.proves. 1 should feel a solitary outcast,
even with him I so tenderly love, without a
father's blessing."
We shall have it, dear Mary, we shall
have your father's blessing," exclaimed Ed
ward, pressing her to his.hosom, for God will
reward so filial and dutiful a daughter. I sho'd
feel myself to be a wretch were I to corrupt
such purity, or wish you, for my sake, to sac
rifice his peace."
We pass over the last two or three hours tha
lovers passed together. The clock had toid
the departure of midnight before they separa
rated. Who could blame them for lengthen
ing out an interview that was to be their last
for months and perhaps forever?
1 leave you, dear Mary," said Kd ward, at
length rising to go, in obedience to the com
mands of my father. If God prosper me I
shall soon again be with you. Cheer up my
love, and remember my motto is "brighter
days will come."
When Edward arrived in London, he has
tened to fulfil the object of his voyage and put
his business in a train for sjteedy adjustment.
Days seemed to him weeks and Mary could
not have doubted his love had she known there
was none in that great metropolis who could
eclipse her beauty in the eyes of him she so
fondly loved. In about three weeks the busi
ness which took him to London was settled.
Mr. arnes was preparing to return home,
when one night, at a laie hour, the cry of' ftrp'
resounded through the long halls of the lintel
in which he lodged. In an instant all was
alarm and confusion. Ho enquired what part
of the building was on fire, and was told that
the eastern wing was all in flames. He has
tened to the scene of danger, which appeared
to he entirely forsaken. Nearly suffocated
with smoke he returned to retrace his steps,
when a *ild scream arrested his attention,
and the next instant he beheld a young and
beautiful female in her night dress rushing
through the llames.
"Save, oh save him, for heaven's sake,"
she exclaimed, save my sick husband, he is
perishing! who, who will rescue him 1"
"1 will," said Mr. James, but do not on
your peril attempt to follow me."
In an instant he was lost to sight, but direct
ly reappeared, bearing in a blanket the body ot
the helpless being ne had been the means o£
snatching from an untimely death. He has
tened to his own room and deposited his bur
den on the bed, and was administering resto
ratives, when his servant informed him tirra
the firemen had succeeded in pulling down the
eastern wing and were rapidly extinguishing
the flames.
W e a v e n o i n n o w o e a s a i Mr.
James, addressing the young female, who had
partly shrunk behind the curtains, to conceal
her thinly clad person—" but you are cold,"
said he, as he threw his own cloak around her,
"pardon my neglect."
Oh," she exclaimed, bursting into tears
talk not of neglect. You have been every
thing to us. You have saved the life of my
poor husband, and an age of gratitude is ours."
Edward now left the room to seek for rest
in another apartment. To sleep was impossi
ble. The excitement of the past hour had
been so great, that his nervous system was
completely unstrung, and he passed the night
in listening for some alarm. After breakfast
he hastened to the room of the invalid, to en
quire for his health. Most joyfully was he
greeted by both husband and wife, who now
appeared to have recovered from the alarm of,
the past night. In the course of conversation,
Mr. James mentioned that ho was on the point
of starting for America.
When does the vessel sail 1" inquired the
lady anxiously.
"This afternoon at four o'clock," replied
Mr. James, "and I should like before I say
adieu, to become acquainted with the name of
those I feel so deep an interest in."
Our name is Levingston," said the gentle
man. And yours, sir
"James."
Well, this is remarkable. A Levingston
and a James to meet under circumstances that
have bound tnem together by cords that death
alone can sever!"
Long and interesting was the communion of
that morning. All was told. The gentleman
he had rescued was the long absent brother of
his own Mary. The tale of love was revealed,
and Eilward persuaded to wait one week lon
ger, that they might return together to theif
native land.
"I shall send despatches to my father by
the vessel in which yon expected lo sail, this
afternoon," said Mr. Levingston, and if he
has any love for his only son, he must receive
us as brothers."
We now hasten hack to Mary Levingston.
After the departure of Edward, fsew York had
lost its attractions for her. Mrs. re
turned home with Mary. She indulged strong
hopes of influencing her father in favor of Mr.
James, and inducing him to consent to his un
ion with her sister. IIm she was destined to
be disappointed. Mr. Levingston would not
even listen to her. Ringing the bell, he order
ed Mary to be summoned to his presence.
When Mary entered the room, her eye fell
instantly beneath the steady gaze of her father.
1 have sent for you" said he, to express
my deep displeasure at your conduct, and my
utter abhorrence for the man who could impose
upon such a child as you. Your sister is&ys
you love the son of one that, has insulted and
abused me. Can it be so, Mary, my child
said he bursting into tear3.
In a moment Mary was on her knees before
him.
Forgive me, dear father, I have sinned ig
norantly. Forgive me," she exclaimed, "for
I here promise to renounce him forever."
If this is your determination," said Mr.
Levingston, "rise and receive your father's
•OH
LOOMINGTON, I. T., FRIDAY, MARCH 26, 1841.
±ij.
blessing. May you long enjoy the satisfaction
of knowing you rendered the last days of your
father peaceful and happy."
From that hour, Mary Levingston was calm
and happy. Innocence and an approving con
science supported her.
Never," said Mary, to her sister, Mrs. M.*
on the morning of her departure, "mention in
your letters the name of Mr. James, who in fu
ture must be as one dead to me. Tell him,
when he returns, that my determination is un
alterable, and bid him seek some more congen
ial alliance."
Weeks rolled round and found the calm qui
et of the Levingston's unbroken. The rose
was still blooming on the cheek of Mary. No
change had taken place in any except Mr. Lev
ingston. it was very evident to all his friends
that he rapidly failed. Every step«T)f the hill
he was descending seemed to fatigue him, and
the only cordial that revived his fainting spirit,
was the presence of hi youngest child. Was
not Mary Levingston, as she trazed on his pale
face and feeble frame, rejoiced at the sacrifice
she had made to secure his peace Yes, the
happiness she now felt was of a calm, endu
ring nature. She could lie down and rise up
without listening to the upbraidings of a guilty
conscience, without having to reflect that it
was her rebellion which had dimmed the eye
and paralyzed the step of her father. Every
night before she retired, she received his em
brace, and heard him say, God bless you Ma
ry, you have been a dutiful child."
Late one evening, in the latter part of Octo
ber, a servant entered the parlor where the fam
ily was sitting, with a package of letters. He
delivered them to Mr. Levingston, and retired.
The hand trembled that broke the seal.
"Thi3 is from our dear son," eaid he, turn
ing to his wife and holding up a letter,
Mand
here is one f»r each of his sisters. Let me
see, two of them are directed to Mary, here
they are, take them."
He now commenced reading the letter aloud,
which told of the prosperity and marriage of
his son, and his intention of leaving England
for home the following week. Then came the
description of the fire. The peril—the rescue
the naire of him who had exposed his own
life to snatch a stranger from the flames. At
this part of the letter Mr. Levingston suddenly
stopped and left the room. In his study he
finished its perusal.
"What does this mean?" he exclaimed,
rapidly walking the floor, It seems as though
the hand nf God was in this thing. I would
that some other one had saved him. Ho asks
me to receive his deliverer as my son. Hold
request—and yet I will do it. I will receive
him as a son, for he has saved the life ot my
Walter at the risk of his own. For so gener
ous, so noble an act, I here bury my enmity
forever."
Mr. Levingston, with a lighter heart than he
had felt for months, returned to the parlor.—
Maiy met him at the door.
This letter, dear papa," said she, "I re
turn to you. 1 have not read it, neither do I
desire to. It is written by one I have renoun
ced forever."
Keep it, Mary," said Mr. Levingston,
and cherish the memory of the writer. I
have buried my resentment forever toward that
family. From this hour shall we ftot bless the
deliverer of our son
Mary was astonished. She could scarcely
persuade herself that all was not a dream.—
Still holding the letter toward her father and
gazing immoveably in his face, she seemed
rather a statue than a human being.
Do you think I am trillrng?" said he, as
lie pressed her to his besom. No, Mary, I
love you too well for that. From this moment
you have my consent to become the wife of
him, who, although so tenderly loved, yon felt
willing to sacrifice to the peace of your aged
father."
The intervening days, preceding the arrival
of Walter, rapidly glided away in busy prepa
ration. Suddenly, however, Mr. Levingston
\vns taken dangerously ill at midnight. His
symptoms were so alarming that a council of
physicians was called before morning, when
an express was sent to New York for his chil
dren.
Calm and collected, Mary Levingston might
be seen noiselessly moving about her father's
chamber. No hand but hers could administer
his medicine, or smooth his pillow. The
thought of death—the death of her dear father
—had not once crossed her mind. His life
seemed so necessary to his family, that such
an event appeared impossible.
Has he come, Mary 1"
Who, dear father?" she asked, stooping
and kissing his brow.
Walter, my son, has he come
It is too soon yet to expect him."
Too scon," said he faintly, 1 fear then I
shall never see him. The hand of death is on
me, my child, I feel its chill."
You wiil kill me, dear father, if you talk
so. You will soon be better. I thought this
was to be the happiest week ot my life," said
she, bursting into tears*
Mary," observed Mr. Levingston, I wish
you to be calm and listen to me. If I should
not live to see my son, tell him he was his
father's idol. Tell him to transmit the name
of Levingston, unsullied, to posterity, and to
be the comfort and support of his widowed mo
ther. One more message and I am done,"
said he, wiping the cold sweat from off his
brow. "Hark!" he exclaimed, hearing a
a noise, perhaps that is Waller." Finding
himself disappointed, he proceeded—" request
Edward James to tell his father that I die in
peace with all men, and joyfully entrust the
happiness of my daughter to his son. I had
hoped to have given away the treasure with
my own hand, but that is all over. Leave me
now for a few momeuts, I wish to see your
mother."
That interview over there was a solemn'si
lence for a few moments, when he exclaimed,
Did you say he had come Oh my son, re
ceive my blessing."
You were dreaming, dear father," said
Mary, Walter is not here."
VVell, well, it is all right," he replied.—
He never spoke more in a few hours his spir
it took its final flight.
It was late in the evening when the mourn
ful intelligence of Mr. Levingston's illness
HERALD.
i*£ A jYJYUJK—JO HJV B, HUSSE L, JMJYB THOMAS HUGHES, EDITORS.
reached his children in New York. They in
stantly set forth to gain, if possible, his dying
couch in time to obtain his blessing.
Where is my father?" exclaimed Walter
on his arrival at the mansion, rushing by his
mother and sisters who had hastened to the
door to meet them. Lead me to my father,"
said he, catching hold of Mary.
As she went toward the room, he rushed by
her and entered, closed and locked the door.
Mary stood without listening to his wild* out
bursts of grief.
In anguish he callcd upon him once morcfo
speak to him. Jt was^the limentatioji ofthe
prodigal yearning in vain to hear his father's
voice. It was the pleading of the wanderer
who had returned with the hope of chcerit
his last days.
Mary," said a gentle, well known voice,
my beloved Mary, we meet with your fath
er's blessing resting upon us."
In ah instant she was in the arms of Edward
James, and wet-ping upon his bosom. Walter
Levingston at this moment eutered the apart
ment.
Did my father ask for me, Mary said
he.
Oh yes," she replied, often. Almost
his last words were,
4
The blessing of many has rested on yon,
dear Mary, to-day," said he, as they were borne
to their new home.
44
Yes," said she,
44
4
my son receive my bles­
sing.' And he told me to request you, Ed
ward, to say to your father,' I die in peace with
all men, and willingly entrust the happiness
of my daughter to your son.'"
Forever blessed be his memory," said Ed
ward.
44
Never shall his confidence be mis­
placed, or that daughter have reason to doubt
my trust."
The door now opened, and Mrs. Levingston,
leaning on the arm of one of her daughters en
tered.
44
bracing her,
Beloved mother," said W alter, em­
41
first care and study to promote your comfort.
Here by the corpse of my father, I resolve to
do all in my power to fill his place, and ren
der your last (lays peaceful and happy."
Some tnonihs from this period, a party was
8een to alight from a carriage early one mor
ning in front of Saint Paul's Church. The
blessings of many were heard in low murmurs
from the crowd that filled the vestibule.
was the pride of her father," said an aged te
rnale who stood leaning against the wall,
4
from this hour it shall be my
4
44
She
44
1 know she will be a blessing to her husband."
Early as was the hour the church w:as crow
ded with spectators. Many had risen to get a
more perfect view of the fine manly form of him
that was about to bear away the sweet Mary
Levingston from her maiden home. 'I he si
lence was intense as the impressive marriage
ceremony ofthe Episcopal Church was read
and fervent were the responses of those who
promised through weal and wo to be faithful
to each other. As the party turned to leave
the Chnrch, a hearty "God bless them," re
sounded from many. Mrs. James was greatly
affected as she cast farewell glance on these
familiar faces. Her husband hurried hej to
the carriage.
and
and I thought as I stood
before the bridal altar, I heard the voice ofmy
departed father saying, God bless you."
Old Bachelor*»
A -CHAPTER TO BE READ AND PONDER*© YOU.
44
Only my husband pleasant, isn't it?—
It is common enough, however, for all that.
Nature often makes great mistakes and mis
places things shockingly. How frequently
do we find the timid, retiring, yielding spirit of
a woman in the form of a man—giving place
at once, as if like woman,
4
born to be control­
led.' The whiskers of a tiger, and the propor
tion of a Hercules, in innumerable instances,
cover a heart with no more boldness or energy
in its pulsations, than the little, palpitating af
fair which f^»laced in the bosom of a maiden
of bashful fifteen while many a lady fair, be
fore marriage, all softness and graceful humili
ty, bears witiiin her breast the undeveloped
fire and indomitable resolution of an Alexan
der, a Napoleon or a Crcsar. That soul,
which had she been a man, would have quali
fied her for a military conqueror or a great thief
catching police officer, by being in a female
frame, renders her a Xantippe, a Napoleon of
the fire-side, aud pens her husuand up like a
vanquished king, a prisoner, a spiritless cap
tive in his own chimney corner. The whole
race of gray mares, and their name is legion,
according to our theory, became so by accident.
They did not get their own souls they have
the souls of men: while the number of men are
scattered through the world the henpecked
geniuses, with the souls of feminine mould.
So it is with our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Fitz
crjnr. They are a pattern pair, and exemplify
eur notions of the subject to a nicety. Mr.
Fitzgig thought himself quite a model of a man
be
fore lie was unlucky enough to get married,
a great mistake. He dreamed that he was
chuck full of valor, and fit to lead squadrons
to the field, at the sound of drums and trum
pets, (especially on the 4th ot July, after lie
had swallowed a brace or two of Juleps) he
perked up his chin, stuck out his breast, strain
ed his hack bone, and believed himselfjust the
boy to head a forlorn hope in storming a for
tress a great mistake. Hut worst of all, he
made Mrs. Fitzgig of Miss Sercphina Serena
Plump, taking her for a feminine woman, when
the lu king devil in her eye, might have told
him that she was a masculine woman, the
greatest mistake of the whole troop of blunders.
As to the last, however, Fitzgig was a little
to blame. He had seen manifestations of Se
rephina Plump's dormant energies for he
was present when she took a cat by the tail,
which had scratched her, whirled it two or
ttiree times round her head, and slung it, whiz
zing and crashing through the window into the
street and he 6aw her bung her father's eye
with an egg at breakfast, because he would
not promise to buy her a bonnet, with other
little affairs ofthe sort but Fitzgig, like our
selves, in our
4
sallad days,' as Coleridge calls
the time, when we fall in love with bright eyes
and such matters, liked a lady noue the worse
for a little spark ot tne old un in her compo
sition. He believed she loved the harder tor
it, and he was satisfied that his own sway
could curb all improper manifestations. Alas
for Fitzgig! alas for the most of men who ven­
d&
••SL
NO. 22.
ture upon the same impressions, upon the same,
experience! Fiery ladies may be beantiful,^
so may a kicking poney but tame them if you
can.
Fitzgig in two weeks was metamorphosed
into only my husband. He struggled hard,
but who can resist his fate? Mrs. Fitzgig
chastised him so with the valor of her tongue
and of her deeds,' that his valor was speedily
returned non est inventus.
4
4
I'm going out of town, a fishing, to-mor
row my dear,' said Fitzgig, as he buckled on 1
his stock before the glass, early one morning
but I'll be back my darling, soon the next day.'
No you won't, my love,' shrieked Mrs.
Fitzgig, as she sat bolt upright in bed,
4
1 see
how it is, tired of your poor wife
already yes,
tired I say tired
So saying. Mrs. Fitzgig sprang out of her |n
nest, lifted up a pitcher of water, and smashed
it all to pieces on the floor. |e
Fitzgig felt considerable dashed but eye
ing tho pitcher and streaming water, he repeat
ed in tremulous tones,
4
I'm going a fishing?'
The basin followed the pitcher Mrs. Fitz
gig seized the looking glass, and ejaculated If
with a significant glance,
offish,' so that her dear Thcophilus need not
have the trouble of going a fishing.
Fitz'*ig sat on the side of the bed for an hour
like Marius on the ruins of Carthage, while the
storm raged below. At length he sneaked
down.
4
Good morning, Mr. Fitzgig going a fish
ing, Mr. Fitzgig
4
No, dearest Seraphina Serena,I ain't goin^
a fishing: 1 want my breakfast.'
4
No breakfast here, Mr. Fitzgig a plot
against me, Mr. Fitzgig. Sally and Tommy,
gone—gone a fishing, iMr. Fitzgig. If you
want breakfast, get it yourself.'
The battle was over—Fitzgig,. previously
broken by the breakage of the brittle ware up
stairs, had little suirit left, but to take away his
breakfast—to punch him thus in his breadbas
ket—was attacking him in the tenderest part.
He sued for forgiveness, and after two hours
of solicitation, the fiery granted him a pardon,
and suffered him to kiss her unwashed cheek.
Fitzgig was thus changed into
If
4
Going a fishing!'
Wh U could Fitzgig do He was concern
ed, as they say in the neighborhood of Star and
Bank Alley. So he knuckled down close.— L.
The war was unexpected and he had not oal
culated the cost. J1
No, I believe I ain't going a fishing.' Mrs. ft
Fitzgig saw that she had made an impression. |L
Her military genius whispered to her to follow
it up. It is not enough to rout a foe. The
true principle is to demolish him
4
Ah, yon only say that to deceive your poof |r
neglected wife there's some mistress that's
the fish and you wan't to sneak off.'
Now Fitzgig looked conscience stricken.— |f
Like all cowards, he did intend to sneak
aud his face betrayed him.
You are a going a fishing, Mr. Fitzgig,' |,
said she, and crash went the mirror against the
wall.
Mrs. Fitzgig commenced dressing with ex
traordinary despatch-, tore the things, upset
the table, whirled the lamp at the picture of the |.
delights of wedded love, which graced the
wall, and, with unwashed face, slammed the
door, and marched down stairs, repeating the
word
4
4
fishing,'as she passed. What hap
pened below we do not know, but the little
nigger' was soon heard felling, and there was
a terrible turmoil in the kitchen. It was clear
that Mrs. Fitzgig was cooking a pretty
i.
to
use hira jl
completely up. |t
a.
4
kettle
44
only my
husband," the humblest of all humble animals.
He fetches aud carries, goes errands, lugs band
boxes and bundles, takes up the youug Fitz
gigs at night, when they squall, aud walks up'
anil down the room with them for hours, no
matter whether the weather be warm or cold
which is the leading duty of
44only
my hus­
band and makes himself particularly scarce
w hen any of his wife's grand friends come to
see her. He is in fact scarcely ever in a pre
sentable condition for Mrs. Fitzgig requires
too much money herself to allow him to spend
any money for clothes. He does however get
nine-pence a week for the purchase of long
nines, but very little more. Although he
shrinks and looks dutiful now whenever his
wife is by, at first he ventured once or twice to
grumble and look sulky. These symptoms of
insubordination soon ended however. Mrs.
F. gave a significant cut with the eye, raised a
piece of fragile furniture in her hand, and whis
pered in a stern voice
Do you waut to go a fishing, Mr. Fitzgig?
WASHINGTON AND JEFFERSON.—Washington
was not a man of the new era. In no sense
was he the representative of the revolution of
which he was the military chief. Jefferson
was its master mind, far as he was from pos
sessing those practical qualities which would
have fitted him for the great task performed by
Washington, of guiding it to success through
ail the dHliciilties that encompassed its struggle
for existence. With the divine prophetic gift J*
of genius, he understood the Revolution, and
had
of
manity
iti advance of his day. Washington was just
up to the line, wonderfully as he there towers
ed over the men who encompassed him and
therefore was the latter the man to do the work
of the day—both to sec the thing to be done,
and to understand the exact practical way how
to do it. The times were not yet tipo for the
realization of the democracy of Jefferson. He
could oniy plant the seeds of its great ideas
and though they met with an apparent univer
sal, as it was, an enthusiastic, assent, as they
were embodied in tho Declaration of Indepen
dence, yet the assent was not a perfect and liv
ing conviction. The age did not understand
that
genius, he understood the Revolution, and i
ad a glimpse far down the vista of its future, L:
the yet unknown glory and greatness of hu- F,
nanitv to which it was to lead. Jefferson was
44
v
all men are born free and equal," or, if
it did, the idea was yet an abstratet one, an
unparalyzed speculaiion, a something destined
hereafter to become the perYadinc-, animating
principle of onr social organization, but not yet
really and practically inwrought into the gen
eral texture of the habits of opinion and feel
ing of the age. Nor is it indeed yet much
.nore, though it has made some sensible prog
ress of which we believe that the tendency is
to a constantly and increasing acceleration.—
M. Guizot.