VOLUME ,19.
POTERY AND MISC
TUE COQUZITQ'
I=
Look! shat a lovely being there
Observe bet form, her pit, her a
say, is the not most wondrous fa
Ah! woe is me!
A classic scholar might suppose
Another Venus Just arose,
From, frothy sea.'
fler hands and feet ihoe-smsfl th.
How very killing dark her eyes,
Where Cupid, sly in ambush, lies
With bow and arrow. .
And, aiming at surrounding toc:au
Inflicts excruciating woes
From skin to marrow!
She sings—her one surpass the lute,
She maps—how eloquently mute!
Ilcr lips—what luscious, tempting
Whence adore , rive!
With what inimitably face,
She .miles and frowns with equal
oc, languid, sighs:
To aid her native lovelitiei.m,
llow fashionably fine a dress.
lispOsing just enough to guess
OS beautic. , hid:
And think you 1 could link my In
With such an extra charming tun
Good Lord! forbid
And why? ehal chore could you
The warmest papelon to lnepirel
{Fill he not do (her wealthy ',ire)
A generoup part?
Yes, but heiwcen yourself - and tne,
She lacks one mauler-witchery.
Sllllllll 11E•C.T
T II
LADY IN
nr NRS. S. C. HALL
I find it easy enough to laugh at "spirif-stories"
d aylight, when the - sunbeans ,dance upon the
the deepest forest glades are spotted and
lonly by - : the tender shadows of leafy trees;
rugged castle, that looked so mysterious and so
to looming night, seems suited ior a lad''s bow
the ,rushing waterfall sparkl l es in diamond
nil the hum of bee and song of bird tune the
o hopes of life - and happitiesi. People may
hosts then, if they like, but as for me, 1 never
t elysmile at the records of those shadowy visi
. vs largo faith in things supernatural, and can
eve solely on the ground that I lack such
edi
are supplied by the senses: for they, in truth,
PLOT!.
in broad
gram, cu ,
chorkore
when the
item in tl
er; when
showers,
thoughts 1
laugh nt
could mei
tors.. I
not diabol
dences
sustain b
by which
them alto.
b ea thed
• palpable proofieso few of the Many marvels
o arc surrounded, that I woutd l rather reject
ether as witneases, titan abide the b.suo entire
!
suggest.
at-grandinollicr was a native of the crieton of
d at the advanced ago of Dimity, her meniory
g ago" was as active as it could have boon at
o looked as if she had knit "sfepped out of a
1
pestiy belonging to a past age ,r but with warm
!ai for , th e present. i Ilor English, when she boy
lied, was very curious—a mingling of French,
not Parisian, with here and thei!,es , raps of Ger
into English, literally—ao that her observations
times remarkable for their tAretigth. "The
a," she would Bay, "in hot country, went high,
until tbey.:could look into the heavens; and hear
e storm." .She nover thoroughly comprehend=
I beauty of England; but spo . . l e with contempt
ness of our island-;-calling our mountains "in
," nothing more—holding our agriculture
Isaying that the laud tilled itself, leaving man
. do, She would sing the trod amusing patois
d toll storied from morning till tiglit, more os
irit-stori.,s; but the old lady 7ould not tell a
-1 t character a second time to an ttribeliciVer; ouch,,o
would say, "urn not for make-laugh." Ono I
ler; I remember, always c tcitCd great intereat '
1.
k ng listeners, from its mingling with the real and
. tic; but it can never be told aa ,he told it; therO ,
tch of the picturesque about t he old lady—so
dmire in the curious carving of her ebony cane,
, uty of her point lace, the size
and weight of her
ear-rings, the fashion of her solid silk gown,
arity of her buckled shoes—her dark-brown
face, every wrinkle an. expression—her broad
I brow, beneath which
1. glittered(
her bright blue
htoeven when her et i elashes were white with
1 .• ll ' these peculiarities gave impressive effet to
li I
- ,
My ere
Berne; a l
of "the (o± fifteen; a
piece of t •
s:t mpathi •
' Came exm
certainly
man don
wore ed I
mounted
high up,
God in t
ed the re!
of the Ha l
equalitio
"cheap,'
‘thing t
songs, a
.ele of th
things, el
ro garlic
in liar yo
the roma!,
was no rn
much to
in the be ,
long uglyi
the eingu
wrinkled
thought(
eyes—bri
years. •
1 •
young time." she told us. "I s I
pent many hap- ,
Iwith Amelia do Itohcan, in her unclo's castle. l
fine man—largo size, stern, and dark, and full
la strong Man, no fear—he had a grop heart, !
head. 1
astle was situated in the midst of tho most stu-
•
Ipins scenery, and vet it was not nolitury.-T
re other dwellings in sight; some very near,
ted by a ravine, through whicti L , at all seasons
er kept its foainiaig course. You do not know
nts are in this country; your torrents are as ba
are giants. The ono I speak 1:.1 divided the
•re and there a rock, ground which -it spertcd, or
• ccording to the season. In two of this defiles
s were of great value; acting es
-pions for rho
f bridges, the only means of communication
• pposite neighbors.
sienr, CII'We always called the c ount, i Was, as I
you, a dark, stern, violent man. All tnen are
dear young ladieft,"sho wouldeay, "but Men
the most wilful: all men ate selfish, but ho wan'.
oafish i all mon are Ityrants—" ' Hero the old la
variably interrupted by her relative :with "Oh,
fly:" and, "Oh fie, dear Granny !". and she 1
die up a little and fun herself; then cwitinue—
. dears, each creature according to its nature—
re tyrants; and I confess that I 14 think a
ose mountain inheritance is nearly coeval with
on of the mountains, has a right to betyranni
, aot intend to blame him 'for that: I did not, be
lad grown used to it. Amelia Land I always
hen he entered the room, and ever sat down
were desired Ho never bestowed a loving
a kind look riponseith l er of us. 4Ve never spoke
en we were spoken to."
when you and Amelia were alone, dear Gran-
mut was
lbo most
dy'wasi.
good Gr a
would br
"Yes, m .l
a met, I
Swom, w
the crest
ell, I 'di
canoe II
• ne e d up
mail we
word, or
except w
"But
.tvliy, then we did chatter, I suppose; though
I ssas in moderation; for Monsieur's influence
t even when he was not presen t; and often she
Y. "It is so hard trying to love him, for ho will
l e!" There le no such beauty in the world now
o's. 1 can see her as she need to stand before
carved glass in fie grave oak-paneled dressing
ream: he luxuriant hair combed up limn her full round
brow; the discreet maidenly cop, covering the back of
b
or head; her brocaded silk, (which she had inherited
from bit grandmother,) "Wed round the l boatim 1 1 the
modest Wile; her black velvet gorget i l and bracelets,
Ih ettlegoff to perfection the pearly Iran potency of her
skis. She was the loveliest of all creatures, and as good
as she seas lovely; it seems but as yeslerday that we
were together—but as yesterday! And yet 1 lived to ice
hula old woman; so they called ber, but eh* never
Peetii!dld to me! My owe dear Annelle!" Ninety
i i
.err ha not dried up tile sources of Ipeor Grants'',
"Oh,
then it
chilled u,
would
not let
Mme
the rich
1 i
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LLANY,
Izi .
EIS
fruit,
trifee,
that i , she laughed when her uncle left the room; ahe
never laughed before him. In time, the laugh came not;
hut i place, sighs and tears. Monsieur had a great
dealt. answer for. A tnclie wail not prevented from see
ing the gentry when they came to visit in a formal way,
and she met many hawking and hunting; but she never . ;
was permitted to invite any ono to tho castle, nor to ac
cept an invitation. Monsieur fancied thal by shutting
her lips, s he closed her heart; and boasted such was the
advantage of his good training, that Amelie's mind was
fortified against all weaknesses, for she had not the least
dread of wandering about the reined chapel of the castle,
where he himself dared not go after dusk. This placc„
was dedicated to the family ghost—the spirit, Which for
many years had it entirely at its own disposal. It was'
much attached to its quarters, seldom leaving them, ex
cept_for the purpose of interfering when anything. deci
dedly Wrong was going forward in the castle. "La Feni
me Noir" had been seen gliding along the unprotected,
parapet of the bridge, and standing on a pinnacle, before
the late master's death: and many tales were told of her,
which in this age of unbelief would not be credited."
"Granny, did you know why your friend ventured so I
fearlessly into the ghost's tetritmies?" inquired my colts-
NIM
LACK.
"I am not come to that." was the reply; "'and you are
- one saucy little! maid, to ask what I do not Choose to tell.
Amelia certainly entertained no fear of the spirit; "La
Femme Noir" could have had no angry feelings towards
her— ; for my friend 'would wander in the ruins, taking no
note of daylight, or moonlight, or even darkness. The
peasants declare'd their young lady must have walked
over crossed bones, or drank water ont of n raven's skull,
or passed nine times round the spectre's glass on Mid-
FllllllllCr eve. She must have done all this; if not more;
there could beihUle doubt that the "Femme Noir" had
Mit' cited her into certain mysteries; fur they heard, at
times, voices in low, whispering converse, and saw the
shadows of two perions cross the old roofless chapel,
when "Mamselle" had passed the foot-bridge alone.
Monsieur gloried in this fearlessness on the part of his
gentle niece; and more than once, when he had reveller4
in the castle, he Rent r forth at midnight, to bring him
a bough flow a tree that only grow beside the altar of the
old chapel; rind alto did his bidding always as
though not as rapidly, as he could desire.'
"There was no answer. The question'wns repeated.
Amalie said she had met him, and at last confessed it
was in the ruined portion of the castle! She threw her
, self at her uncle's feet—she clung to his knees; love
taught her eloquence. She told him hoWdeeply Charles
regretted the long-standing feud; how earnest, and true,
and good hi was. Bending low, until• her tresses were
heaped upon the floor, she confessed, modestly, but firm
ly, that she loved this young man; that she would rather
sacrifice the wealth of the whole world than forget him.
"Monsieur seemed suffocating; he tore oft his lace
cravat, and scattered its fragments on the floor—still she
clung to,hirn. At last ho flung her from himi Le re
proached her with the bread she had eaten, and heaped
odium upon her mother's memory! But though Ante
lio's nature was tender and affectionate, the old spirit of
the old race roused within her; the slight girl arose, and
stood erect before the man of storms,
''Did you think,' she said, •becuuse I bent to you that
I an% feeble?—because I bore with you. have I no thia'ts?
You gave food to this frame, but you fed not my heart; i
son gave me not lave nor tenderness, nor sympathy; you
showed too to your Friends as you would your hors . .. If
you had by kindness sown the seeds of love within my
bosom; if you had been a father to me jn tenderness, I
would have been to you—a child. I never know the
time when 1 did not tremble at your footstep; but I will
do so no more. I wdtild gladly have loved you. trusted
you, cherished you; but I feared to lot you know I had a
heart, lost you should tear and insult it. Oh, sir, those I
who expect. love where they give none, and confidence
, I
where tnere is no trust, blast the fair time of youth, and
lay up for themselves an unhonored old, age.' I'he
scene terminated by monsieur's falling down in a fit,
and Amelie'a being conveyed fainting to her chamber.
"That night the castle was enveloped by storms; they
came from all points of the compass—thunder, lightning,
hail, and rain! The master lay in his stately bed and
was troubled; he could hardly believe that Amelia spoke
the words ho had heard: cold-hearted and selfish as he
wise, he was also a clear-seeing Man, and it was their
truth that struck him. But still his heart was hardened;
he had coo mended Amelie to be locked into hercham
her, and her lover seized and imprisoned when he came
to bis usual tryste. Monsieur, 1 have skid, lay in his
stately bed, the lightning at intervals, illumining_ his
dark chamber. I had cast myself on the floor outside
her door, but could not hear_her weep, though I knew
that she was overcome with sorrow. As I eat, my head
,resting against the lintel of the door. a form passedthro'
the solid oak from her chamber. without the bolts being
withdrawn. Laaw it as plainly as I see your faces et9W,
under the influence of various emotions; nothing opened.
but it passed through—a shadowy form, dark end vapo
ry. but perfectly distinct. I knew it was 'La , retutee
Noir,' and ktrembled, for she never came frorncakics.
but alWays for'a purpose. I did not fear for Amelia. for'
'Lit Femme Noir' never warred with the high-minded
, nor chilled hor heart; and she never spoke of
.1 e witho'ut emotion. "Monsieur was very proud of
i •ce, because she was part of himself; she added to
o i sequence, she.kintributed to his enjoyments; she
irciwn necessary: lie was the one sunbeam of his
t the one sunbeam, surely, -Granny!' one of us
exclaim: ••yon were a sunbeam then."
• as nothing where Amelia was—nothing but her
The bravest and best in the country would
joiced to be to her what I was—her chosen friend;
•me would have perilled their lives for one of the
smiles which played around her uncle, but never
d his heart. Monsieur never would suffer people
appy except in his way. He had never married;
declared Amolio never should. She had, ho said,
I ch enjoyment as ho had: She had a castle with a
bridge; she had a forest for hunting; dogs and
:; servants and serfs; jewels, gold, and gorgeous
s; a guitar and a harpsichord; a parrot—and ,n
And such an uncle: he believed there was not
.netimr uncle in broad Europe! For many a long
.
mein) laughed at this catalogue of *advantages—
"But certainly Amelie's courage brought no calmness.
She became pale; her pillow was often moistened by her
tears; her music was neglected; she took no pleasure
'in
the chase; and her chamois, not receiving its usual at-,
tention, went off into the mountains. She avoided rue
friend! who would have died for her; she made no
reply to my prayers, and did not heed my entreaties.—
One morning, when her eyes were fixed upon a book she
did not read, and I sat at my embroidery, a- little apait.
watching 1!•o v over her cheek until I was blind
ed Lv uv Own, I iip:ati Monsieur's heavy tramp tip
pr,nching lb( (1)0 etu:l4. boots creak---
but tbie giots bd!
" 'Save mo, oh save mor she exclaimed wildly. Ito
fore I could reply, her uncle flung open the door; and
stood before its like an embodied thunderbolt.. lie held
an open letter in his hand, his oyes glared, his nostrils
were distended, and lie trembled so with rage, that the
cabinets and old china shook again.
••'Uo you,' he said, •know Charles la Alnitre?' ;
"Anwlie replied, 'Yes.'
'• 'flow did you make acquaintance with the son of
my deadliest foe?'
SATURDAY MORNING, JANUARY 27, 1849.
or virtuous. She passed slowly. - more slowly than lam
speaking, along the corridor, growing taller and taller as
she wont on, Until she entered monsieur's chamber by
the door exactly opposite where I stood. She paused at
the foot of the plumed bed, and the lightning, no longer
fitful, by its broad flashes kept up a continual illumina
tion. She stood for some time perfecly motionless, tho'
in a loud tone the master demanded 'whence she came,
and what she wanted. At last, during a pause in the
Storm, she told ,him that all the power he possessed
should not prevent the •union of Amelia and Charles. I
hoard her voice myself; it sounded like the night-wind
among fir-trees—cold and shrill, chilling both ear and
heart. I turned, my eyes away while she spoke, and
when I looked again she was gone: The storm contin
ued to increase in violence, and the master's rage kept
pace with the war of elements. The servants were
- trembling with undefined terror; they feared they knew
not what; rho dogs added to their apinehiinsion by howl
• ins fearfully j , and then barking In !the highest possible
key; the mo i ster paced about his chamber, calling in rain
on his domestics, stamping and swearing like a maniac.
At last, amid flashes of lightning, ho made his way to
the head of the groat stairease, and presently the clang of
the alarm-bell mingled with the thunder and the roar of
tho mountain torrents: this ' hastened the servants to his
presence, though they seemed hardly capable of under
standing his words—he insisted on Charles being bro't
before him. Wo all trembled—for he was mad and
livid with rage. The warden, in whose care the young,
man was, dared not enter the hail that echoed his loud
words and heavy footsteps—for, when he went to seek
his prisoner, lie found every bolt and bar withdrawn, and
the iron door wide open: Ito was gone. Monsieur aeon
ad to find relief by his energies being called into nation;
Ito ordered instant pursuit, and mounted his favorite
chafger, despite the fury of the elements. Although the
great gates rocked; and the castle shook, - lre'Se_t forth, his
path illumined by the lightning; bold and brave as was
his horse, he-found it almost impossible to get it forward;
he dug his spurs deep into the flanks of the noble aid
mai, until the red blood mingled with the rain. - At last,
it rushed madly down the path to the bridge the 3 oung
men must cross; and when they reached it, the toaster
discerned the floating cloak of the pursued, a few yards
in advance. Again the horse rebelled against his will,
the flashed in his eyes, and the torrent seemed a mass
of rod fire; .no sound could be heard but of its roaring
waters; the attendants clung, as the advanced, to the
hand-rail of the bridge. The youth, unconscious of the
pursait, proceeded and again roused. the horse
plunged forward. Ott the instant. the form of 'La
Femme hair' passed with the blast that rushed down the
ravine; the torrent followed in her tack, mid more than
half the bridge was swept away forever. As the master
reined back the horse he had NO urged forward, he saw
the youth kneeling with outstretched quo; on the oppo-
Site bank—kneeling in gratitude for his . deliverance from
his double peril. All were struck With the piety of the
youth and earnestly rejoiced at his deliverance; though
they did not presume to say so, or look as if
as)
thought
so. I never saw so • changed a person as! the muster,
when ho re-entered the- castle gate: his chock was
blanched—his eve quelled=his fierce plume hung bro
ken over his shoulder—his step was unequal, and, iii the
voice of a feeble girl he said—'Bring i me a cup of wine.'
I wee his cop bearer, end. fur the, firs! lime in hie lit.
Ito thanked the graciously, and in the warmth of his
gratitude tapped my shoulder; thocakesa nearly hurled
me across the hull. What psfisect ilia retiring-room. I
know, Ito:. Some said the .Fominc Noir' visited hint
againjcannot tell; I did IllAbOO her; 1 speak of what I
saw, not of what I heard. The storm passed away with
a clap of thunder, to which the former sounds were but
as the rattling of pebbles beneath the swell of a summer
wave. ' The next morning, monsieur sent for the pas
tor. The good man seemed terror-stricklen as lie ell
teted the hall; but monsieur filled him a quart of gold
coins out a lethern ham! Co repair his church, and that
quickly; and grasping his hand, as ho departed, locked
him steadily in the faCe. As he' did so. large
stood, like beads, upon his brow, his stern, con:v., • -
lures, were strangely none? V. hit° he gazed upoat tth.•
calm, pale minister of peace and love. 'You,' iw sa:d,
'bid God bless the pooreSt peasant that passes you on the
mountain; hsveryou no blessing; -to give tho master of
Rohean?'
"My son," answered the good-man,' "I give you the
blessing I may give:—May God bleip you. and may your
heart be opened to give and to receive."
"'I know I can give.' replied the proud. man; 'but
what can I receive?"
' "'Love,' ho replied. "All your wealth has not brought
you happiness, bacause you are unloving and unlovd!'
"Tho do non returned to his brow, but it did not ro• _
main therO.'
•' •You Shall give ms lessons in this thing,' ho 'said;
and so Ow good man went his way,
"Amelie continued a eloio prieonor; but a change
came over monsieur. At first, hO shut hims i olf up in his
chamber, and no one was suffered to outer his presence;
ho took his food with his own hand from tho only atten
dant who Ventured to approach his door. Ho was ,heard
walking up and down the room, day and night. AVhen
we wero going to sloop, wo hoard ' his heavy tramp; at
daybreak, theme it was again; and those of tho lulusohold,
who awoke at intervals during the night, said it was un-
ceasing.
"Monsieur could read. Ah, you may smile; but in
thorn; days, and in thoso mountains, such - men as the
master did not trouble themselves or others with knowl
edge; but the master of Rohean read both Latin and
Greek, and commanded Tins ueox ho had never Opened
since his childhood to be brought him. It was taken out
of its velvet case and carried in forthwith; and we saw
his shadow front without. like the shadow of a giant,
bonding over Tux BOOK; and ho read in it for s i p orno days,
and we greatly hoped it would soften and change his na
ture—and though 1 cannot say much of thO softening, 1 t
certainly effected a great change: ho no longer, stalked
moodily a'ong the corridors, and banged the doors and
swore at the servants; he rather seemed possessed of
a merry devil, roaring out an old song:—
•Aux bastions do Geneve, nos cacaos I
• Sent banquez;
S'il a quelquo attaque nous les ferout realer,
Viva! les eannordere!'
and then he would pause and clang his hands together
like a pair of,cvmbals and laugh. And once, as- I was
passing along, pounced out upon me and whirled me
round in a waltz, roaring at rne, when the let me down,
to practise dint and break my embroidery frame. He
formed a band of horns and trumpets and insisted on the
goathords and shepherds sounding rereilles in the moue -
tains, and the village children beating drums; his only
,Idea of joy and, happiness was noise., He set all the can
ton to work to Mond the bridge. paying the worknied
double wages; and he. who never entered a church be
fore, would go to see how the laborers were getting on
nearly every day. lie.talked and laughed a groat. deal
to himself; and in his gaiety of heart would set the max
tiffs'fighting and Make excursion from honio—wa know
ing not where he went.. At last. Amelia was summon
ed to his,presence. and he shook her and shouted. the t
kissed her; and hoping she would be a good giil, told her
he had provided a husband for her. Amelia wept and
piayed. and the master capered and sung. At last she
fainted; and taking advantage of her uaconsciousnesa,fie
conveyediter to the chapel; and there beside ,the altar
stood the bridegroom—no other than Charles Le Mai
tre.
"'Chet' lived many IePPY Yeeve together; and- when
Mo ;deur was in every reaped a bitter s though - .etill •a .
Orange man. 'thi,Fernino Noir' appeared again'to
once . ._ She did so with a plaeid air , ono. simmer tight:'
withber arm extended teiferde the 'heavens. ,
"[rho next day the muffled bell told i the valley !hat the
proud old matter of ltolielln had este! to live."
QM
tw-o re Iv' n
trim trpran oxivaie.
The womanwho makes the iontemptlble blunder
In getting up pies._ •
To shorteti the upper crest more than' the under,
Is very unwise;
Not only penurious, meagre and green, •
But called in the papers ”decidedly mean,"
But look through tliis world and you'll find that the upper
Are ever more short,
?Joie testy in temper, more stinted at supper,
More brief in retort=
Besides, in their relish for splendor or dash
They often get shorter heiltit. credit and cosh
A man of deception is ever A lover,
Wherever he•s found;
And tire is a hook in a tine Showy cover,
Most splendidly bound— '
Each leaf has an edging of irOld, but within
Is dark with ins c riptions of folly and sin.
If strangers you tweet at a wedding or party,
nestOw not your Mil,
Your confidence, frank, unanapectins and hearty,
On short upper entst—
Or you'll learn that not pastry alone bath the •In
Of an outside much better than that which Is within
You will fled the seine spirit pervading all clams
The high and the mean—
Like a rich satin cloak; it envelopes the tnasses,
Over ragged awreria—
As a spotless, false bosom may horrors enclose.
And gaiter:Nags lace o'er detestable hose.
There Is counterfeit breeding In full elrcultMon.
- More brilliant limn gold;
There it cal:11011M talent, end 'hide repulation,
• Mott fair to behold;
And counterfeit wealth; with its glittering dust.
Atid chowt, without, like a rich upper crust.
But give me the friend that I* frank for-a
-wonder
And trustt•_tLough rough;
IVho9e upper crust looted' very much like the under
'And neither are tough;
Let us n in what we can of the graces of art.
But pledge for them never the truth of the heart.
A NEW ZIAMPBEIRE utvair,mnir.
The remarkable history we ure about to relate, occur
red within our recollection, and near a certain locality
in New Hampshire. The exciting event will be recog
nized and remembered. About two miles from n small
town in the elate we have mentioned, the road crosses a
hill of considerable eminence, beyond which a valley of
a milo broad, called by the people an "intervale," lay
extended. This piece of land, from over tillage, was
worn out, and belonged to a man who kept a tavern by
the road side, Near the top of the bill, ou the aid() near
est the tvalley, was a deep pond—a strange place, it is
true. for such a thing to exist, but the nature of the ground
made a permanent lodgment of the water in the bill per
fectly natural. Near this pond, there stood a rude tette
!tient. in which there lived a woman, looked upon in the
neighborhood with &eat distrust and suspirn. She
had a little girl with her, a child of fi ve en s of age.
whom she called her daughter, and who was her only
companion in the but in which she lived.
A fortuor. who resided upon the otitskirts of the town,
tip,rin opening the door ono morning. discovered this poor
little girl, bare-footed and ragged. crouched , beneath the
caio oftho house, and iteetningly very much terrified.—
Whea ho quesiionecl id hnd , cotne to irtt
hisi.....ooriteraing...llccodttiLlbut,,eho ..feared her mother
would kill her for duitigso.
"9h. gciotl sir; I think it is right' thot.l should toll you.
for''it in something vary bad—but my mother will kill me
if ‘..ou toll her."
The farmer quieted the child's fears, and then heard
from her the hurt id rehition that her mother had last
night murdered and robbed a traveller, who stopped at
her house.' it had stormed dreadfully during the night,
and a strange man, she said, had come to the lonely hut
looking for shelter. He had gone to sleep stretched upon
the floor, before the fire, and hearing a groan in the night
sho woke uplind saw her mother' killing the stranger
with a knife. She lay still, in great terror, and saw her
[pother take money from the num's pockets and hide it,
...then drag the body in a narrow space behind the
ei,,a,ncy and cover it with bro Th-weed, used for fuel,
Otter touch the miserable onwlvi e•-s t:ropt into bed by
the child's side. The-poor girl could not sleep, and at
the first peep oflmorning she saw her loather rise again,
,drag the body from thecliimney to the pond, at the back
of the house, tie 'stones to it, and with a long polo force
it down into the thick mud at the bottom. Terrified, tole,
almost speechless with-four, the little girl fled from her
mother's habitation, and eon a mile and a half to a for
mer's house, to relate these horrid details.
Of course, the alarm was instantly given, and the ter
rible excitement flew through the -town and among the
neighbors for miles around. An early hour in the mor
ning found constables, and a larg4 crowd of people 'as
ambled at the woman's dwelling. The unhappy wretch
instantly turned pale, and exhibited every sign of guilt:
first refusing the officers admission: then forcing herself
-between them and the space behind the chimney, as if
()tiger to retard investigation, but still vociferously asser
ting her innocence. An officer got behind the chimney
and picked up a large knife, on which together with the
floor around was nowlY clotted blood; but the woman
continued insolently fp deny her guilt, and accused the
child pf lying, in revenge for having been whipped 'the
night before. This rash usser ion instantly confirmed
the guilt, for it was evident a child of five years old could
never invent such a story, and the burst of indignation
against the mother for her unnatural charge, told the
strong feeling that' was already aWaltenea against her,—
The girl still overcome with terror, and kept in awe by
the mother's frowns, It required long per/maiden and
promisee of protection before she would reveal where the
money was hidden. At last, she pointed to the spot, and
the sum of thirty dollars was dug up, the miserable a
mount for which a female demon had launched a huMan
being into eternity.
The investigation : was continued; the woman was
placed in custody, end the pond, nitwit a quarter of a
mile wide, was dragged with grappling irons in every'
direction, yet no body was discovered. The nest day,
the search went on with like success. and at length.
when all other efforts seemed useless,. it was suggested
that the pond inight be drained dry, aud, by this process,
the body must inevitably come to light. This plait (after
some furthet search, in which the pole mentioned by the
child was found stained with blood, and with some rem
nants of apparel attaelied to it,) was adopted by the au
thorities, and a sluice was dug to let the water off down
/ the hill side.. The operation ,occupied some time. and
when at length a vont was opened, the impetuous rush of
water swept away nearly the whole bank of the pond upon
the bill side, letting off the flood at one bound. followed
by a ma'a of pile], black mud, dead logs. fresh water
turtles. catfish, paddocks. eels, water snakes, and all the
strange tenants of tho pool, Still the body did not l ap
pour, and after a thorough examination of the black bot- I
1 tom of the pond, vague suspicions of some other kind of
roguery began to be entertained by the crowd. Tho
child WAS #ffain examined, the pond again scraped. turd
the 'interviste," over Which the dark sediment 'and filth
of the pond no* lay a foot deep. was carefully Suspected
in allrditeatiens: and still the dreadful riot
uniapelled. m :
The evidence of the child, the knife. tbe . 4lcde. the
money. the blood, the woman's heartless and horrid kn•
men butchery flint bad been• perpetrated. and the . fruit
letweenrekifter the body, seemed to add' new terror to
, the excitement. Who was the unfortunate etranger?—
Evidently some traveller from a distance, for nobody In
the neighborhood was missed. Why could not the body
be found? Ten thousand conjectures flew around. each
of which added to the perplexing mystery. A strange
uncertainty forced itself upon the tninda of the people.—
By all nppearauces, it appeared cerfain that a Murdered
man had never bran thrown into the pond at all; yet that
the bloody deed had been perpetrated was, from the evi
dence, conclusively establiahed.
Thus the affair continued. enveloped In darkness and
all hope was abandoned of discovering the body. The
woman could not be convicted upon the evidence of the
child, and that evidence itself could not'be substantiated
without finding the body. So while every person was
satisfied of her guilt, it was clear nothing but her own
confession would ever bring the murderess within the
power of the law. She, with unflinching obstinacy. con
tinued to deny ail knowledge of the
r murder. At length
she was actually released from confinement, no possibili
ty appearing of ever being able to secure her conviction.
A few months passed on, and the "intervals," upon
which the pond had been emptied and which before had
boen almost worthless, now grew to be a flourishing
piece of lend, etnd people would remark, that the drain
ing of the big pond proved a' good thing to the tavern
keeper, who owned thrh fend below.
Now fur , the developdient of this mysterious tragedy.—
A quarrel occurred between the heroine of this story and
the inn-keeper ot the-mintervale." In her exasperation,
she came frirward and threw-a blaze .tirlight upon this
blood-chilling mystery, which at once opened all eyes
with astonishmeat. A * seheine was laid open, the am
ningly devised wheels.of which could never have been
set in motion but by ,a genuine bred and born, load
thoroughly educated, son of Yankee, land. The tavern
keeper wanted his land improved; r .he wanted the pond
turned on to it, and soon hit upon a plan to have thtl job
done frao of expellee. lie laid awake three nights, mat
ured his plan, contracted with the poor woman for fifty
dollars, to put it in operation, and she, with the assistance
of a consummately artful child, carried itont. She kill
ed a pig, smeared a knife and pole, taught her child the
story to tell, and acted out the game in a manner worthy
the bent living representative of Lady 'Macbeth. • The
tavern keeper had furnished the thirty dollars of the mur
dered man's mon .y. but when, his objt eta was gained.
he refused to pay the fifty, not •aring a pin Whether the
woman would expose his plan or nut. This led to a grand
development. and thus our thrilling narrative of "A Sew
Hampshire Mystery." gentle :ender. 'turns out to be
neither more nor less than a super,excellont and sur
passingly executed "Yankee trick."--l-N. If. Gazette.
•
VIDELITY
Never forsake a friend. , When enesnies gather around
—when sickness falls on thu heart—when the world is
dark and choerle.sa—ia 14_tinre to try true friendship.—
Theheart that has been touched with true gold Will re
dodble its efforts, when the friend is Berland in trouble.—
Adversity tries real friendship. They , who turn from the
scene of distress, betray- their hypocrisy and prove that
interest only moves them. if you haye a friend whoi
i.:ves you—who has studied o ur interests and happiness
—be suro.to sustain him iu adversity. Let him feel that
his farmer kindness is spprCeiated—and that his love was
not thrown away.' Real fidelity may be rare, but it ex
ists In the heart; Who has not seen and felt 10 power?
They only deny its worth and power,• who have never
loved a friend o r labored to snake a friend ; ham., The
good and rho kind — the ofroctionate and the virtuous,
see and feel the heavenly principle. They wouhlisacri
fiee wealth and honor to promote the happiness oftthers,
and in return they receive the reward of their love -by
aympathising hearts and countless favors,' when they
have been brought low by disease or adversity. 1
BEAUTIFUL EXTRACT
The Independent Order of Odd Fellows boast °Ca pa-
Culler philosophy, but which is nothing more thaw efiris
iian benevolence under another name, as is plain front
the following elegant and glowing description of it. taken
from The oration 'of a brother of the order:
"Hers is a calm, sweet realm. . Hers aro the green
pastures and the still waters--thers Ito ways of pleasant
ness. and the paths of peace! - The gulden Whichlshe
tills is the human heart, and the seeds which ahe'scattors
will hear their fruit in heaven. Here are not the pamp
of science, the splendor of genius, the glitter of wit s th,
the might of armies! ‘Vith her pale finger she poin i to
th 9 annals of the past, and they all become but as chaff
upon the bosom of the wind. Yet she stops not' h+.—
Speaks she now in tones as solemn as a midnight bell, of
the nothingness of human greatness? Listen again! and
ye shall hear her clarion voice, proclaiming aloud 4 tha t
human virtue never dies? 'Appears she now with The
shadows of death upon ono hand, and the history of the
world upon the other, to teach how pitiful is indiTidual
ambition, and how senseless the love of self?—look
again! and yo shall behold her descending upercher an
gel pinions of "love and charity." to gather the entire
human family beneath their ample folds. Comes she
now in the shape of a hoary philosopher. worn and bent
with the weight of yearal—lo! she comes again in the
shape of a ministering angel. with - smiles of sympathy.
and tears of pity, to'tho abothiof want, and the hotbe of
death." -
•
A MEAN CASE.
Some years since, when money was scearce. and al
most everything was done: In , the way 'of trade, a man
named Jones called into the grocery and dry goods store
of ono Mr. Brown, and asked for a darning needle, offer
ing in achange an egg. After receiving the needle,
Jones said: ,
"Como, sir, ain't you going to treat?
"What on that trade 7" inquired [hewn.
"Carts:lily. a trade's a trade. let it ho big or little."
"Well, what will you take?"
"A glass of wine," said Jones.
Tho wine wog Poured out, when tho sponge said,
"would it ie Wilting too much to request you to put an
egg into this wine? Inm very fond of wino and egg."
Appalled by the meanness, the btore-keeper took the')
identical egg which ho hod received for the darning flee-I'
die. and handed it to his customer, who, on I breaking it
into his wine glass discovered that it contained a dou
ble yolk. "LTA here," said the spong,o, "don't you
think you onght to give me another darning needle, this
you see is a double egg."
Gr.sl3.—Tho hope of happineSs is a bridge woven out
of sutnbeams and the colons of the rainbow. lvhich car
ries us over the frightful chasm of death.
Human knowledge is a proud pillar. but it is built in
the midst of a deserter of ignotanco. and thos who
have ascendedfimbighcat have only gained a mo te et
tended view. - of the waste.
Adversity overcome is the brightest glory, and willingly
undergone, the gi•natost virtue. Sullerings ere but the
trial of valiant spirits.
Every time's man langhs he adds to, the duration of •
his life. • . , •
We know nisn who habitually carry theirheadi down
ward, and seldom look their fellow men in the fees. The
reflecting' Mind naturally conclude" that guilt is stamped,
upon their hroirs.
, ,
-117 Ad "arvietut perent," 'wit . * had taken bet; fi rst born
to dreiert'wl. strawberries - and cream tirero• supplied.
ad, libitum. for one shilling a bead.Milpired et the bloated
little orchid.. for _
he ei4,Critantige another' plate."
"2thililirle'ilitio." shake
me a bit. 111 try."
1
INIM
MAIMURAL , ADDRES3,,OF
W ht. F. JO II NSTON,
Delirered in the INC 'of the Hausa "ef,
Jan eery 16, 1849.
FRIENDS AND FZGZOW CITIZENS:
The kindness and confidence of the
cut upon nre the:Executivelunetions.of
and the prescribed oath to support the C
ing beemadministertid, I should he' fats -
trust reposed in nit.. andtuiviiitzthy 'll4 P.
Posted. did I not deeply feel the reeponsib
tion. end firmly resolve to merit your sit
Profoundly
,sensible o however. of, my
end fully conscious that Without the enc
assistance of, the people, the Chief, Ma
properly to discharge the high duties of
instead of the substance of popular poW
empty shadow of
. Executive authority, I
invoke at the kande of the citizens. thrt
the same spirit which called into existenc
tutions of our country, to assist me In en . 1
fending them. 4
At the commencement of 'an' odmin
been a custom with the Executive to in
ciples which will govern his councils,
he may desire for he benefit of the peopl
message deliver. I'm the opening of the
the Legislature. has superseded the nee
compliance with this usage, and on"this
suffice to refer to a few general views of
cy that shall receive at my 'hands the full
support and consideration.
At all times and under all circumstanc
obligation of the public servant Is the m.
defence of our Republican institutions
shall receive, in the esercise of Exec
sound interptetation'—that no impedimen
to prevent the salutary influence of their
the popular mind, when understood. SW
indices which no public officer will disre
The founders of the Republic:. inspire
n isdom, declared, that all mon are born
independent; that the right of ,defending
of acquiring, possessing and protecting p
putation, aro indefeasible; that all power
the People, and nil free governments
their authority; that no preference shall e
law to any religious establishments, or
ship; that no one!can be deprived of hi
property, unless by the judgement of his - p
of the laud; that no man's property shill I
plied to Wilk' use, without the consent
tatiyinti that eduention should bo pros
blessing of Intelkeine] culture placed
of every Citizen. History and experiene
etrated the justice of these priticiples, a
lag?, as well us public: duty, detnaild for
•
support. .
It is said of a veLratile maxim, that, t
just gevernmenti, is the greatest good
number, In reducing this theory to wee
a constant ondeipor to procure such leg
promote religion and morality and encours
literature. It will also be deemed a ditt
proper means tho!conditioU of the label
so.iety; to advaneC the active industry
and fostering commerce. rigrieulturn and
Measures for the 'reduction of the publim
consequent relief of the tax-paying and I
pie. shall at all times receive a most, cord!,
An IndsWed. nation - centrist 'command,
of its independence, nor feel the entire
institutions. Whatever may be its desire
tiro ,objects of, general benevolence, its
a compliance with its will, and nationta j
frequently delayed. With a deep convic i
portance of this subject, and-a settlell con
people will sustain- anS- safe measures ha
payinent of the debt of the State, itsha
aim to place our finances in a conditio
-every public obligation, to maintain:unseal,
the Commonwealth , and to preserve unsi
to of ”Vntros. LIIIZRTY INDEMIDC
The inten.ions of the people are Fur:, and are unf •
forr i Fly directed W I advance the genora prosperity.—
W en, therefore, they believe a public f rictionary feels
an anxious desire in unison with their os n, for the pub
lic I
welfare, they will willingly pardon e rocs of judge
ment, and sustain him in his miblic cour-o. It is hoped
the same generous' and manly sentiment, the same con
struction of motives, the same approcih i tion of public
conduct, which have been extended to o hers in similar
positions, will shiiildrthe administration about to corn.
mence, from at least unmerited censure. An evil spirit
is at work amongst 119. against whose malign influencs
all shouldhe on their guard. It is.that siiirit which ere
rites a wrong where none exists—which ill advance con.,
denim the public servant, and labors to destroy confidence
in the honesty of his designs—which, unwilling to judge
of works, draws from its guilty imaginings the spectres of
a corriipt heart, and holds them up to publio gaze as 1
sub
stantial truths. It is the same spirit whi t L would ; array
in hostile position the classes into which nniety divides
—that would Phico capital and laboroh rich end the
prior at variance with .each other. hie th spirit that ans
itnates the bosom of .the catalines of ev ry ago. 1
In Europe there) are, noblemen and Pe ants, political
and social distinctions, created and sustait ed by law, and
sanctioned by prescription. In this count all are initial
under the law; and no politician, no pa y In our coun
try, would desire al change in this fundamental principle
II
of our constitution. Factions distinctio s can have no
residence who're they sire not sustained by law, and such
are the sudden transitions of wealth imo g tne citizens.
that the rich man of yesterday is the poor roan ofto-day.
andilio poor of to-day the rich of to-m rrow. Where
property is not secured by legal, enactine t, to particular
cbasses; and 'wealth is unguarded by im emorial privi
leges, an enlightened self-interest will t , ach the rich to
hold in reverence the rights of tho poor, or their condi.
tion may ba oltingiiil in themselves or tli'r offspring. .
The rich and the poor are equally depi
other for the comforts and luxuries of civ
strata them, and the interests of both per
of the rich is valueless without the assista
ital of labor. -
The most dangerous. because the 11/09
mies of the Republic, are those who p
honest, unsuspecting citizens, whisper;
against men whose every interest hi cons
welfare of the country: Stich sneb shout
dangerous io the well being of society, a
the shrine of party, tmtli, honor, patriotii
ing asunder the 'confidence which holds
one people:: '
In.the discharge of my official duties, I shall ever bear
in mind •the oath of fidelity to the cotistit tiou. and shall
endeavor with my utmost ability to pert rat the- sacred
trust committed to my charge. That I a all err In judg
ment when most tultlons to do right, t be anticipa
ted, for human intelligence is incapable f reaching un
erring truth, and the hope that a generost forgiveness on
y o ur. part will accompany honest intentions. will sustain
me; and if. 4 1 . the end of my term of sorts. it shall be
my fortune to leave the people' of my na 'ire State hap.
pier and more prosperous than I found trn. I shall ask
no prouder inscription over my grave.
-With, a firm reliance that the God of sir
serve our hippy countr y as the home of
ivlll lend liis.suppori to an :ansiotie coda
their Interests, and perpetuate their civil
atitutiOne. I enter on the discharge of thl
'Esecutivli'departnient of the State. I
' WM. F. Jr
January 14,1847.
Ell
ER 31
LUM
'ovrason
1,2=0:1
: i
peoples himini
Ire toverneiont.
: netitotiOn' hetr 7
to the sacred
nfideimo mad
- . ,
lity of my Foal
..
port.
own
upagement and
Istnite is unable
his static?, sna
G becomes She
• mild earnestly
efficient . aid - of
the free insti
porting and de-
ludic% it has
icatedito prior
, d the Inessures
Ths'annual
esent session of
r osily of a strict
occasion it will
he gublic poll
t and steadiest
tho highest
ntenenen 'end
That those
ma power. a
shall Iptorfaiv
rlaciples—that
be obeyed. are
with profound
1 . tinily free and
life nud liberty.
operty and re,
is inherent
re founded on
er be given E by
odes of wor:-
life, libortpor
.
. eta. or t he law
,e taken or np
-1
f his represen
oted, and the
thin tho reach
have denied
d private, feel
-1 thew' corditil
, •
ie object of all
of the greatest
'ea. it shall be
slation.as abaft
ge science and
• to elevatt'bY
log classes if
of the ,citisexi.
manufacture.,
'e debt, and the
ibuithened pee.
tll -- tupport.
io full measure
lessinv of its
to promote au
esources refuse
slice is thereby
ion of the ini4
id•nce that the
ing in, view the
be a constant
. to discharge
I MI the:honor of
, otted. its mot-
M9l
ndont on each
sized life—sap
eh—the capital
nce of the Cap.
insidious one. ,
;ma etnonk the
g insinuations
i?ected with the
tl be rebuked as
sacrificing at
and as tear-
as together as
stions will pre.!
his people,. and
. vor to promote
1 ad religion's in
b duties of the
MS STON