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Bloomington herald. [volume] (Bloomington, Iowa) 1840-1849, November 24, 1843, Image 1

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VOL. IV..-NO. 3.
e'vcrv 'hrco ww"ths
p. O. BECKETT «fc CO.,
Per Sired, one door b: low the Iowa House,
reecived fram St. Louis, a complete
of GROCERIES, which they
very cheap for cash or country producc.
!V 16,1313.
MM at Law and Salary Public,
Blooming ton, Iowa,
frlLL give pro npt attention to all professionalMm.
i«*:i which he may be lavoied. He has "full
IraiJ authority to administer oaths and take
Wtonanis, or proofs of deeds, mortgages,
fcjerirtfattorney,«"'! other instruments of writing,
in the Court House. mar 1 43.
I'tend promptly to any bustnees com.
miite i to their charge.
i \Ae«lvr 21
st, 1841.
take notes and accounts for collection,
attend to the closing of books, and do all
business in the line of his profession. He will
ict as a e itjral a^-Mit and collector. delG
COVE LL,respectfully informsthepwbWcthat
he continues to keep a Public House at Sa
il Muscatine county, Iowa, wher the best accom
atii)iiscan be had, between Blooinington and
Menjnrt. Private rooms to be had at all times,
i iau'iltf is gooJ, and at all times furnished with
i i
tinUotprovender. He invites a test of these
(Wiwwnk. Several comfortable houses to rent.
•^l.'ern, I„.va, an 28 1812 U tf
Landing, Blooming Ion, Iowa*
ITHIIE undersigned hiving leased his long cstab
|4 lisbeJ anJ well known TA\ EUN SI AND
'•3 term of years, and added to it such an addition
viil enable hiia !o accommodate ravellers and
.arein a manner more acceptable than its former
Pensions would permit, returns his thanks for the
patronage heretofore bestowed upon his house,
solicits a continuanc of the same. Having ta
|t-n the stand for a number of years, placing his reli
i'-i lor patronage upon his merits, lie is determined
*,'iuue, as heretofore, to strive to nieiil a liberal
eof patronage by the use of every clToit to ren
"'.f stay of his guests pleasant and agreeable.—
STABLE shall at all times be supplied with the
-".themarket affords, served up in a style not to
•surpassed in any country. The BAR will be kept
plied with tho choicest Wines and Liquors, and
-iurroom hiving always been quiet and tree from
I «, those wishing to bo retired need not entertain
I' v feirsot \h« least disturbance. Porters always
i ittewhnce to transport baggage from audio the
Hmsc froe of expense.
The STABLE, heretofore under his control, has
taen leased to a couple of young gentlemen ofexpe
•ncc in this business, and who are prepared with
rses and Carriages for the use and t-ansportion of
N«n»er3 o any part of the Territory, gentlemen
families wishing to visit any part of the Territory,
'1 ®iy kind of conveyance, can be accommodated liv
"}"c,i:ion at the Iowa House, where their wants
njJi.itoIy attended to.
for Drugs.
S E A V V I S E W E E 1 Y O
•Ttpipi#.. "mui.hi.4 J|1-"1'
Dollars per
..SCK. When payment is not made
aJJiii'onal chargc of Fifty Cents will
,1* Subscriptions for a less term lhan
l"1'sr vvill charged at the rate of Tim e Dol
ing ,ce payment required. CO' No paper
E'^vi until arrearages are paid,
except at the
0f1C.\dVKii'nSTvo—For a square of 16
Ti^prtion. I 00 each subsequent insertion,
't- Lcr onrsin proportion. Advertisements
office for publication, without dcsigno
"X number of insertion will be continued un
ciiar^Cvl for accordingly
•uarta' TS,i «.ir in order to
ftTJt3ters addressed to the TSditor, in order to
Jre attention,
A. Ogilvic At Co.
1 1 V U O I S S I O N
VL'illii'» i'oa'i^n-ind UomesticDry Goods
JrWJrL««, Boots ind Shoes, Nails,Iron, Steel,
Also, on consignment, a choice
L'ojiit.iffinportcd Liquors.aliof which willbe
Lvery low for Cash.
[siojiniujtiin.July 30,lS41.-40-tf
Dli.n. COVELL,
S U E O & Y S I I A N
wall supplied himself with Medicine
i-inily to attend to all calls. He is thank
f.rpast patronage.
Jen. liwa, Jan 28, 1842 14 If
iHoo/nin 'fon, Iowa.
Bloomington, April 1st 1842.vl-34tf
Peps constantly on hand, a cbmplete assort
ment of Drugs, Medicines, Paints, Oils, Var
j-'his, Dye Stuffs, Books, Writing Paper, Warp-
Paper Ink, Quills & Stntionaiy of every de
!!l°n, all of which are offered low for
Every article warranted of the best qnal
N- B. Ginseng and Scneka Snake Root taken
Beckett & Co.,
"Warding and Commission Merchants,and
A Pealera Groceries and Produce,
few doors below Chestnut, on Water Stfeet,
A- 0»ix.
3Uefev to
VIE & Co.,
E^*r.TT 9c Co.,
Farewell! farewell! is often heard,/
From the lips of those who part
^is a whispered tone, 'tis a gentle popd,
But it springs not from the heart
It may serve for the lover's closinglajff
To be Hung 'neath the summer's sky
But give me the lips that frankly say
The honest words—" Good bye
Adieu! adieu may greet the ear,
In the guise ofcourtlcy speech
But when we leave the kind and dear,
i is not what the soul would tcacli.
"Whene'er we grasp the hand of those
We would have forever nigh,
e flame of friendship bursts and glows
In the warm, frank words—" Good byelK
The mother sending forth her child
To meet with cares and t-trife,
Breathes though her tears her doubta pttd tears,
For the loved one's future life.
No cold adieu," no farewell" lire*
Within her closing sigh
But the deepest sob of anguish gives-—
God bless thee, boy Good bye!"
Go, watch the pale and dying osse.
When the glance has lost its beam,
When the brow is cold as the marble stonc^
And the wotld a pass ng dream
And the latest pressure of the hand,
The look of the closing eye,
Swfeuim of I'ain.—No
Domestic Hapfiwess—Afi!
Tiie Lovfe
Yields what the henrt must understtekJi
A long—a last Good bye!"
one will doubt the
high courage of the Marquis ol Anglesey.
While his leg was amputated he uttered not a
sound. A bystander m'ght have supposed
that he feit no pain. Hut a brother officer,
whose hand he held all the time, told a clergy
man, a frierd of minp,
I knew an old clergyman who had ser.tlegan
grene of a toe, to which Sir Astley Cooper
frequently applied nitric acid, and he told me
that, not liking to cry out, and not being able
to swear, he always relieved himself in his
agonv by spouting a sentance of the Phillip
pics." Dr. Barnes, of Tavis
took place, who was acting surgeon at Mac
quarie Harbour, during 162Gand 18*27 for nine
teen months, informes u»e that he saw in all
17,0U0 lashes given in that penal settlement.
As it is a point of reputation with the convicts
to appear to dispise the torture, and numbers
of them are the most daring, determined, and
^ruicf ui.iuiuu^Uy uitiicisiirl
the absence of all exclamation but. in every
instance, something was noticeable which dis
closed sufferingordetermination the shoulders
were generally kept raised, showing the strong
action of the surrounding muscles or, perhaps,
a bulletin the mouth was found alterwards
flattened out to the thinness of a water by the
action of the jaw.—Elliotson s Operations
without Pain.
refreshing, so sooiiiirg. so satisfying, as
the placid joys of home
See the traveller. Does duly call him
for a season to leave his beloved circle?
The image of his earthly happiness con
tinues vivid in his remembrance it quick
ens him to dilligence, it makes him hail
the hour which sees his purpose accom
plished, and his (ace turned toward home
it communes with him as he journeys,
and ho henrs the promise which causes
him to hope,
Thou shall know, also, that
the tabernacle shall be in peace, and thou
shall visit thy tabernacle, and not sin O!
thlfejoyfu'i re-union of a divided family—
the pleasures of renewed interview and
conversation after days of absence
Behold the man of science. He drops
the laborious and painful research—closes
his volume—smooths his wrinkled brow
—leaves his study, and, unbending him
self, stoops to the capacities, yields to the
wishes, and mingles with the diversions of
his children.
He will not blush that hath a father's heart,
To take, in childish play, a childish part
But bends his sturdy neck, to play the toy.
That youth take* pleasure in, to please his boy."
Take ihe man o( trade. What recon
ciles him to ihe toil of business? What
enables him to endure the fastidiousness
and impertinence of customers? What
rewards him for so many hours of tedious
confinement Hy and by the season of
intercourse will arrive he will behold the
desire of his eyes and the children of his
love, for whom he resigns his ease, and in
their welfare and smiles he will find, his
Yonder comes the laborer. He has
borne the burden and heat of the day the
descending sun has released him of his
toil, and he is hastening home to enjoy
repose. Half way down the lane, by the
side of which stands his cottage, his chil
dren run lo meet him. One he carries,
and one he leads. The companion of his
humble life is ready to furnish him with
his plain repast. See his toil worn coun
tenance assume an air of checifulness his
hardships are forgotten fatigue vanishes
he eats and is satisfied. The evening fair
he walks with uncovered head around his
garden —enters again, and retires to resi
oster & ichX4Xj
(qx a&V, cbt.ap
for cash by
the resi of a laboring man is sweet
whether lie eats little or much.* Inhabi
tant of this lowly dwelling who can be
indifferent to thy comfort? Peace be lo
this house.—Rev. W. Jay.
The Cincinnati Commercial eaj» that the
small pox is raging in some pan* of tbat city
to an alarming extent.
Jt IT8BE It t* i W O O *mJH/ AjyjrUM
I might write chapters, yea, volumes,
on this one text yet, whenee the neces
sity, and to what use Who that has tru
ly loved his race, or labored lo advance
the cause of moral truth who of the wise
and good and great, has shrunk from the
avowal when suvrh is his duty, that in all
time since first the erring mother of man
kind more lhan atloned for the first, aye,
and only sin, by the sublime endurance
of her after trials, until the present time
when all that lends a lustre to the human
name is woman's gentle sway over man's
rougher nature—who of these, I add, let
his position be what so'er it may, but has
given homage and borne high testimony to
the unfaltering trust, atld never daunted
vigilance of woman.
love of
Well, well! It matters notto swell the
prologue for every human soul that is
true to one generous or chivalrous dictatc
must yield to the mother and the wife, the
prayer sustaining daughter and the prayer
ful sister, true tribute when comes the
tempest that beats down the strong, or the
fell mower whose arm is strung when
wide before him is his harvest—Death.
It matters not, I say, to treat of these
for show ine but a man who will not own
that such is woman's own peculiar field
how gracefully imposed, as gracefully dis
charged, and I will (ind vou one fit to en
act the crimes classed, by. Ui£ great Daru
of Britain, as—
Treasons, stratagems and spoils."
Ttie clock is on the ehitne of twelve,
yet still the wife (how memory nestles to
the term like exile to the name of home
will not forbear the vigil of—1 will not
say despair. All vainly do 1 urge that
she will leave to me all further cares of
the dull pinioned night, and seek a well
earned respi\e 'till the dawning. She turns
to go, yet the faintest movement of the
consumptive sufferer brings back her knee
ing form, and again 1 hear her love brea
thed inquiry, as o'er his levered brow her
hand rests tenderly, or her own burning
ips are pressed, as though she hoped (how
love will dream—even when stern reason
laughs its dreams to scorn) that they
might win him back to health 3gain, as
when in earlier years they roused the
bounding blood to joy extravagant. Again
he smooths his pillow again the cup is
proffered whose medicaments she fondly
thinks will mitigate his restless cravings
again her ear is bent to catch his death
drawn aspirations, and then-
Enough. Cheated by the sufferer's list
less lethargy, she thinks he sleeps, and
disappears but not until her latest glance
meets mine own with such a prayerful in
terest therein, that I were verier caitiff
than ever walked the ramparts of a lea
guereil city, if I allowed sleep to steal on
and take me for a moment captive. She
takes my blessing with her, and my pray
er, so do all have it—be it worth much or
little—who in the pain-strewn walks of
human life, forget not that the purest at
tribute of life is, to smooth the pillow of
the dying, and pluck from death the sting
of drear abandonment. But I am inter
en honrs have p»»»id how drearily, all
those may understand who've passed them
by the sick couch. Thrice had the pale,
demanding features of ihe wife peered
through the half opened door to note how
fares the invalid. It seems as if his very
respirations can cheat her of the boon of
slumber, and that priceless gift—the only
earihly Lethe of the wretched may not be
her's while she is tossing on a bed of an
guish. What if there have jarring chords
and sounds discordant broken the music of
her married lot—what though he may,
perchance, have dealt unkindly with the
heart whose maiden purity knew not a
cloud along its surface when first he wrote
love's characters thereon? He may have
proved at times unkind—and wasted with
a hand too prodigal ihe deep stored treas
ures of his children's mother, yet have not
these a place nor-memory now Life to
the sentinel star of the sky, her love looks
out through the storms of the past to guide
and to console him to make her what
she vowed to be at the altar's foot, to prove
her all that the Benificienl designed her
to be, when in the bowers of Paradise she
From the Cleveland
Itf an's love is of man's life a thing apart *, 1
Tis woii|ap^ existence."
Fklicia ITkmajtji.
Htfwurrs:—I am, for a marvel,
in a serious mood, and loop myself to your
button hole. Lend me your columns. I
am a watcher at the couch of a sick, alas
I fear me, a dying man and although it
might be supposed that preacher (ike cog
itations would intrude on the pauses bet
ween duty to the diseased yet far differ
ent run the currents of my mood and
why ?—because I am again a witness—
4 how often have such opportunities been
mine, and yours, and r.ll the worlds !—of
the tried truth, the patient sufferance, the
real fidelity, and never swerving love of
iOi-'^i-ii!.-^ II 4.' I
was the fairest flower in the possession of
our common father.
A wife's deep love all selfishness debars
From the pure fount whence its affections rise,
Ceaseless its watchings, and the glowing stars
Keep not more constant vigil in the skies.
It knows no change danger, disease, or death
May bid it turn from where it learns to love
It lives while life retains its fleeting breath,
Then passes on to kindred realms above.
It is so with man Does mutation
come upon his heart as comes the keen
kiss of the North wind to the leaf of the
syeamore Does he imitate woman in
her nnchangeableness, her self-denying,
self-abandoning, ministrations Alas
hew true is my text—
Man's love is of man's Bfe lTltiingrl$*rtr*i
He gatheres the flowers in its morning
what cares he for it when ihe destroyer
mars the perfectedness of its beauty.
1 have written thus much lhat I may
hinge a moral on my lucubrations for a
moral there is to it, and it behooves me to
deal fairly.
Go ihou, man celibate, and therefore,
fool, go out into the world, and find some
gentle being with whom to share the bles
sings of unclouded manhood. Knit her
affections to yours by the holiest ties—the
tic lhat has its upsprinoing at the altar, its
decline (if you regard it rightfully) in the
grave. Let her share with you in your
joys, and mv life on it, she will not shrink
from the endurance of your sorrows. Clo
ser than the links that bound the Moabitish
woman to ihe sorrowing Naomi will be
the bands that unite her sympathies—her
life—with yours. When comes the tem
pest of adversity, the more insidious foe
man disease, then will she prove the min
istering angel that I have witnessed to
night, and to purchase which, a life-time
of kindness on your part would not be an
unequal equivalent. Go then, and before
your manhood draws to this arctic twilight
before age with its weariness and its con
sequent misanthropy pall over you with
its sunless sky, earn a right to the conso
lations lhat girt the domestic circle round
about as Israel was accompanied by the
cloud and pillar.
causa femina liieris moverit," said an an
cient writer, if my latin hold3 good through
the vapors of a long night's vigil. He lied
mosl /bully lied—thai foul-minded cynic
a .1 e —,
withal—I have ever found, lhat although
lo woman we may charge some of the er
rors of poor humanity, yet ever—when
we see life in its most beautiful guises, it
is when woman is the guiding principle,
the Mentor, the
God bless her, and. but the star? have
fone to bed and I'll to my coffee.
Thomas Jefferson'Jaoksos.
i ',
Four weary, lead­
Fling anoiher fagot on the fire, my
child,' said a weak voice, as of a sick wo
am very cold. How the wind
shakes this frail cabin. Ah it was not so
in Alman Castle, when your dear father
lived. The meanest hand had then a com
fortable toof and plenty of fagots. Little
did he think his wife and child should ev
er suffer thus.'
The speaker was a lady already advan
ced in years, whose originally fine dispo
sition, penury and disease had rendered
querulous, i he person she addressed sat
by the scanty fire, preparing the evening
meal, for although the storm rendered all
without dark, the hour was not yet thai
of the usual twilight. Clad in coarse and
faded garments, with hur lovely face worn
with sorrow and care, it would have been
impossible to recognize in her the once
pround heiress but for her graceful figure,
the proud eye, and the air of refinement
about her face and movements, which
nothing could conceal. She heard her
mother's command with a sigh, gazed
wistfully on the sole remaining fagot, and
then mournfully continued her occupation
Clara Alman had been born in almost
princely halls, and educated as ihe heiress
of the broadest domains in the north of
England. Up to her fifteenth year the
sun of her prosperity had been unclouded.
?he was beautiful even beyond her sex,
and already surrounded by noble and wor
thy suilois. To one of these she had
pledged her virgin heart. All the deli
cious emotions of a first love ware hers,
and life seemed to lie before her, like a
flowery path beneath a summer morning s
All at once a clouiLcame over her sky.—
It was the era of the crusades and when
the lion hearted Richard assumed the cross
her father, and subsequently her lover fol
lowing his example, set forth in his suite
for the Holy Land. With many tears Cla
ra and her mother saw them depart but
honor bade them forward, and the wife
and daughter, even amid iheir sorrow, felt
they could not persuade them to remain.
A long year passed, then another, and
then a third. At first Clara heard at long
intervals from hers'iitor, but in the second
year ihe intelligence arrived that both he
and her father had fallen, in a deadly ski1""
mish with ihe Saracens led by Saladin in
person. The melancholly news was,
few months later, confirmed by ihe arri
val of a
11), ij I. w'.'li _j,
ll' IftmJikmmmi i
I jjj^11"
of the late lord, who said
he had seen hi? master fall in battle

added that Clara's suitor had been slain in
attempting to save her parent. This cir
cumstantiul account destroyed the last hope
lingering in the bosom of Clara and her
mother, and they wept long and deeply,
almost benumed by grief.
But from this sacred sorrow they were
suddenly and rudely awoke. The"vasi
estates of Alman, though entailed in the
male line, were to have descended to Cla
ra on her marriage, by the consent of ihe
King.—But ihe deed had never been made
Richard was now in prison in Germany,
and his base brother John ruled unright
eously in his stead. The claimant lo ihe
estates was in high favor with ihe disso
lute prince, and now came forward to de
mand the domains. Rage and revenge
were uppermost in his heart, for he had
been a rejected lover of Clara and hav
ing renewed his suit, after the death of her
intended husband, had been again refused.
Malignant by nature and pitiless from de
praved habits, he Ml no remorse in eject
ing both mother and daughter from their
habitation, and leaving them utterly un
provided for, to the most abject poverty.
All appeals to the prince were in vain.
He stooil too much in need of supporters
to his usurped throne, to venture a rupture
with the possessor of the Alman manors.
Since this event nearly the who'e of a
long year had elapsed, which had been
spent by the sufferers in mingled grief and
penury. Winter had now come, and the
rude cabin in which they had found shel
ter many leagues away from their old res
idence, shook in the tempest, while the
snow beat in between the chinks, and the
cutting blasts sent a chill lo the very hearts
of the inhabitants.
Mulier copio, non est
Why don't you put on another faggot?'
querulously said the sick mother, as a rude
gust whirled through ihe leaky lattice, and
made her shiver. Poor Clara, though far
less warmly clad, endeavored not to ap
pear cold, but the icy blueness of her skin
contradicted her demeanor. The tears
gushed into her eyes. She looked around.
Dear mother,' she said,
Merciful God,' exclaimed the mother,
plasniiiff hpr hiinla ond !ifiinor liBp oiea ta
what will become ot us I can
endure this cold no longer. I feel I shall
die before morning. No fagots—oh vir
gin mother of Christ have mercy on us.'
Mother,' said the devoted girl, running
to her and clasping her around, I will hold
you in my arms all night. I am young,
and can impart my warmth to your frame
—Cheer up, dear mother,' she continued,
though in a voice of alarm, for fright, and
the bitter chilliness of the atmosphere were
rapidly producing a fearful change in the
parent's countenance,
will put on the
other faggot—we will eat our scanty sup
per, and you shall drink the last cup of
wine. We kept ii for an emergency, and
when can we better use it. To-morrow
will be clear—I know it—I feel it, and
then we can get all we want, for I will
beg for it sooner than see you thns Dear,
dear mother, see—the fire burns brightly
we will seek rest—and
you shall all night sleep warmly in my
God bless you, my child,' said the
mother, and the tears gathered into her
but 1 fear the wor^t,' she continued,
with a desponding shake of the head.
storm looks as if it would last for
days—then what will become of us
Clara shuddered. Her heart felt as if
oppressed with a mighty load, for as she
listened she recognized those deep tones
in the tempest which always forebode a
duration of some days. Had it not been
for the presence of her mother, whom she
fell ihe necessity of encouraging, she
would have sat down and wept in despair.
Suddenly there was a knock at ihe door.
Both females started and looked at each
other. Clara hesitated lo move. A voice
was now heard asking admittance from
ihe awful storm, which the traveller said
surpassed any he had ever witnessed.
Fear was no part of Clara s nature. Her
heart was ever open to pity. Without
further thought she unbarred the door. A
tall figure, wrapped in a knight's cloak,
followed by a servant, entered. The in
truder lifted his cap as he came in, display
ing a weather beaten face, surmounted by
locks of grey. He shook the snow
from him, advanced to the fire, and then
with surprise in every feature of his coun
tenance ranged around the room.
You seem illy provided lor such weath
er,' he said, turning, for the first time, to
have you no faggots
The poor girl shook her head.
One can't expect a stoup of win« lft
such a place as this,' he said apologetical
ly Clara gave a silent gesture of dissent
as she returned his gaze,
then Henry,
we must thank the saints there is some
lefi in your flask. Give these good peo
ple a portion, for they seem to need it
Since the stranger had entered, both
Clara and her mother had gazed at him.
without removing their eyes for an instant
it might be at his free demeanor it might
be from some other cause. Now, for the
first tiawrback to the servant
we have but one
more faggot, which must last us 'till the
storm abates. If we use it now we shall
have nothing with which to cook our scant
breakfast in the morning.'
whole¥o.I«^v m*
who hitherto remaining in the back ground,
adranced at these words to the fire. Tho
eyes of the girl and those of the follower
Clara were the mutual ex­
clamations, as they fell upon each other**
My husbandf' ifras the simultaneous
ejaculation of the mother, as she faintly
opened her arms to the older warrior, who
starting at her voice rushed to her, recog
nizing in the tones the bride of his youth.
By our patron saint,' said ihe earl,
when the mutual surprise of the parties
had been, in part dissipated,
this beat*
the romance of the Round Table I never
thought to find you here. By the wrong/
and his brow darkened like n thunder
have you been brought to this
Clara, for her mother was unable to
compose herself sufficiently to become the
narrator, now related the story of theirpi*
pulsion and subsequent suffering.
By St. George,' said the irrascible earl,
starting up with flashing eyes and shaking
his clenched hai.d fiercely,
u ill pull the
beard from the miscreant for this outrage.
Richard has returned, know Jre, my sweet
daughter,' his mood changing, and he ac
companied the words hy drawing Clara to
his bosom—4 the king shall have his own
again, and we will rout this villiain from
my father's castle, ere a fortnight* ti
The lover now fur the first time iutiB*
Should we not, before we talk further,k
he said,
procure fuel for the fire Hap-
pily I noticed a ruined shed, about a hun
dred yards distant. I will go and tear
enough of it down to keep up a roaring
fire until morning.
Well said, and I will assist yob,' said
the bold earl.
In a shun lime they had brought to the
hut and piled up in one corner the neces
sary fuel. As ihe last load was cast down
the earl turned to Clara, who was weep
ing and smiling by turns at this great
change in their circumstances.
There, now lhat Lord Henry has won
it, go to him with a kiss, you weeper,' ho
said with almost boyish spirits, 'and he
will tell you how lie did not perish in tho
battle, but, stunned like myself and buried
Saracens^ "and how after a long confine
ment, we escaped together, and have finals
ly reacecd home. I will tell the same to
your mother—go, sweet one, but first glfli
your father a kiss.'
That was a happy night in the hut oft
the heath. As the old earl said afterward,
never in the proudest halls, had he speut
one like it.
Little remains for us td tell* The n|g$t
morning saw the sun shiuiug orightly on
the landscape, and ere noon the whole par
ty, deserting the frail cabin, had found re
fuge in a hostel, about four miles distant,
which the earl had been seeking ihe p#
ceding night, when, in the darkness, b4
lost his way.
The return of Richard spread uuiversal
joy among his people. The flght of
prince John wa* followed by that of his
chief favorites, who justly dreaded the
wrath of the monarch to whom they had
proved traitor?. Clara's unworthy cousin
hearing at the same time of ihe return of
his monarch, did not wait for the appear
ance of the latter but took ship immediate-'
ly for France.
Great were the rejoicings at Alman Can
lie when the bold earl once more took hit
seat on the dais in the greal banqueting
hall, and greater still were ihe bonfires and
congratulations when, a few months later,
the lady Clara became ihe wife of him she
had loved so long.
A. 0. Brown9on.—This intiettetrftiai Weath
ercock bids fair to add much more of injury
than honor lo the Democratic party. Admit
ting his peculiar taW nts and hi* original mind,
we never believed lie could be of any real ser
vice to the Democracy—and glad were we
when he cut himself adritt of the parly. But
he is now furnishing weapons for ilie Federal
prints against those who have fed him with
office. The National Intelligencer, and other
Federal prints, are now quoting his denuncia
tions against the purest Democrats of the age,
and the principles which they advocate. These
quotations are gathered from the Democratic
Review, for which Mr. B. now writes, having
an unexpired contract to fulfil with its publish
ers. A happy circumstance will it be, nol on
ly for that work, but the Democratic P&rty»
when his term of service is completed. Mr.
Brownson, although a man of unquestionable
.•euins, is eriatic,unreliable, visionary, and
vain in the extreme. He bus been radically
has beer!
midway, and lamely conservative—be is now
highly aristocratic in his opinions—as ultra
Federal in his sentiments as Fisher Ames.
He seems to regaid the "dear people," at
whom he continually sneers, as mere instru
ments to be used by the sprouts of an intel
lectual aristocracy,* who are to be heid up to
the view of common folks' as something sa
cred. For one, we beiieve the intellect of this
roan is
excelled by his insufferable vani­
ty and unparalleled egotism. We are glad tin*
party is rid of him and his transceadonul va
garies.—Newport (N. H.) Argus.
When are soldiers stronger than elephants
When they carry a fortress!
Why are those who
tber Mathew's converts in
thoy avoid the crater, (cratur.)
Vesuvius ke Fa-

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