Atnmmti IS Uoluutccr
BY JOHN B. BRATTOI
YOL. 34.
THE AMERICAN VOLUNTEER, 1
. nublishod every Thursday, at Carlisle, Fa., by JOHN B
IinATTON, upon the following conditions, which will be
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nmcE.—The office of the American Fohmlser i® In the sec*
nA itorr of James H. Graham’s new stone building, in South
Snmorer street, a ftw doors from Burkholder’s hotel, and di
opposite the Post-office, where those laying busipess
will please call.
poetical.
THE BRIDE’S DEPARTURE.
DV O. W. PATTEN, D. 8. A.
Brother! speak In whispers light—
*Tls my last—my last good night!
Never more our steps will stray
Through the garden's scented way;
By the homestead of the bees—
•\calh Hie shady cbesnut trees;
By the meadow's winding stream,
Glittering in the sunset beam;
Gentle Brother! smile and bless,—
’Tis ray last—my last caress.
Slater! with thine eyes of,blue.
Hither come and weep ••adiou!”
j*t thy arm around mb twine,
I,rt thy cheek repose on mine,
While I gaze into thy Ace.
Circled In this dear embrace;
Thou hast ever proved to me,
All that love could wish to be;
Yot I leave thy heart alone
Brother-Sister 1 bless your own.
Mother I thou hast rocked my head
Softly on ray cradled bed;
When the storm was raging high.
Sweetly sunn love's lullaby—
Yet I part—l part from thee;
Who henceforth will sing to me.
When my forehead aches with pain 7
4 I shall miss that early strain!
Mother I with thy accents mild.
Bless, oh 1 bless thy weeping child.
bIT FORTUNE’S MADE.
kT JURY A. SMITH.
My young friend Cora Lee* was a gay, dashing
feirl. fond of dresk, and looking always as if, to use a
common Baying,“just ottlof Oshd-Box.” Core wa«
a hollo, of course, and had many admirers. Among
the number of those, was a young man by the name
Of Edward Douglass, Who was the vctyp.mk of neat,
ness, in all mutters pertaining to dress, and exceed*
ingly particular in Ins observance of the little propri
eties ofllib; ; • . .. .-
Isaw from lbe'fir-t,that ifDouglass pressed his
suit, Cora's heart would bo an easy conquest. .
“How admirably they aw fitted for ouch other,, 1
remarked to my husband, on the night of we “'
ding. “Their tastes arc similar, and their habits
mo so much alike, that no violence will be done to
lbs feelings ofoillier,in the more intimate associations
(hat marriage brings. Both oro neat in person, and
orderly in instinct; and both liavo good principles.”
11 From all present appearances the match will be
a good one,” replied my husband. Tliero was, I
IhodSlit; something like reservation in his tone,
“Bo yod really think soi” 1 said, a little irom
cally | for Mr. Smith’s approval oflhe marriage was
hardly warm enough to suit my
“ Oh, certainly i why not!”
1 1 felt a little fretted at my husband’s mode of
Speaking,but made no further remark on the subject;
I yio is never very enthusiastic or sanguine; and did
I not mean, in this instance, to doubt tho fitness of the
I parties for happiness in the marriage state, as I half
Itmagincd. For myself. I warmly approved my
■friend’s choicer and called her hdSband a lucky man
■to secure for hfs companion through life, a woman so
■admirably filled to make one llko him hsppy. But
■a visit which t paid to Cora one day, about si* weeks
■ after the honey-moon had expired, lessened my en*
Ithusiasm on the subject and awoke some unpleasant
■doubts. It happened that I called soon after break
■fust. Cora mot me in the parlor, looking like a
■fright. She wore a soiled arid'tumbled morning
■ wrapper; her hair was In papers, and she had on
■dirty stockings, and i pair of old slippers down at
Ibe hficls. ,
" Bless me, Cora,*’ said I, “ what is the mailer 7-
Hnvo you been sick?” ■ L .
•• No. Why do you ask 7 Is my dishabille rather (
on the extreme 7** .. , «
••Candidly, I think it Is,Core*” was my frank ,
answer. .. ■
“dh, weli.no matter," she carelessly replied, “my ,
fortune's made.*' • t *
“I don’t clearly understand you,” said IJ
“I’m married,yoU knotfr.'
“ Yes, T’m aware of.that fact”
“No need In being so particular in dress,now.
“ Why not 7” . 4 ’
“ Didn't I just say,” replied Cora, *' my fortune s
msdo? I’vo got a husband.” j
Beneath an oir df Jesting* waB apparent the tea!
earnestness of my friend. . ■
“You dressed with a careful regard.to taste and
nsitness, in order to win Edward's love,'.’ said I.
“Certainly, 1 did.” , . - '
you not do the same In drdor lb re
tain it.” ‘ . ‘|
1 “Why Mrs. Smith! Do you think my husbandis
affections wore no deeper than my dress 7 1 rihould
[bo very sorry, indeed, to think that, Ho loves mo
[ for „ .
I “No doubt In the world of that Cora. But, re*
I member, that ho cannot see what is In your mind
I swept by what you do or say. If ho admires your
I tailo, for instance, it Is not from ony abstract a PP ro *
I elation of it, but because the taste manifests itself in
I what you do. And depend upon It, he will find it a
psry hard matter to approve and admire your correct
I taste in dress,‘for instance, when you appear before
I him day after day In your prosent’onallradlive attire.
I Ifyou do not dress well before your husband’s eyes,
I for whoso eyes, pray do you dress 7 You are as neat,
I when abroad, as you wore before marriage.”
I “Asto that, Mrs.Smith,common decency requires
I tno to dross when I go upon the street, or Into coni*- 1
I Pany, to say nothing of the pride one naturally feels
I In looking well,”
I “Does not the same common decency and natural
I prldo argue as strongly in fkvor of your dressing jvell
I at homo and for the eye of yopr husband, whoso ap*
I proval and whoso admiration must bo .dearer to you
I than the approval and admiration of the whole
■ world?”. .
“ But he doesn't went to mo mo rigged out in alike
ln * satin* all the lime. A pretty bill my dross
n,uber would have against him In that event. Ed*
w *rd has moro sense than that, I flatter myself.
“Street and ball-room attire Is one thing, Cora*
Md becoming home apparel another. Wo look for
Whin their place.”
Thus I argued •with the thoughtless young wiib,
jjl n»y words made no Improssfon. , \Vhcn abroad,
? h ® dressed with exquisite taste, and was lovely to
,** upon; but at homo aho was careless and elov.
* nl y» and made it almost impossible for those who
t{* her, to realise that aho woe the brilliant beauty
■ ®y had mot in company but a short time before.—
even this did not fast long. I noticed after a
[?* Months’, that the habits of home were confirming
fnr» n,o^Vfii ' becoming apparent abroad. Her
{ : Un ° was made, and why should eho now waste
.® r om pl°y her thoughte about matters of per-
BOa ivl importance 7 . ...
A ho habits.of Mr. Douglass, on. the contrary, did
ed Ho was as orderly as before, and dress
hh the same regard to neatness* Ho novsr ap-
w'j
ii,«
rip/
i'
poared at the breakfast table in UiO morning Without
being shaved; nor did he lounge about in the evening
in his shirt sleeves* Tho slovenly habits into which
I Cora had fallen, annoyed*hlm seriously, and still
more so, when her carelessness about her appearance
, began to manifest itself abroad as wall as at bqtnei
When' he hinted anything on tho subject, she did not
I hesitate to reply, in a Jesting manner, that her for*
I tune was made, and she need not troiible herself any
longer about her appearance*
Douglass did not feci very much complimented,
but as ho had his share of good scnsCjjLe saw that to
assume a bold and offi UdOd manner Would do no good*
“If your fortune js made, so is mine;” he replied,
on one occasion, quite coolly and indifferently.
' Next morning ho niade his appearance ot the
breakfast table with a board of Iwenly.fotlr hours
growth.
• so
75
1 00
‘•You havn’l shaded this morning, dear," said
Cora,, to whose eyes the dirly*looking face of her
husband was very unpleasant.
“No,".Jio replied carelessly, "It’s a serlotla troiible
to shave'every day,"'
"But you look so much better with a cleanly sli&HB
face."
• “Looks aro nothing—ease and fcolnfoft bvefj
thing,” said Douglass.
“But common decency, Edward.”
“1 sco nothing indecent in a long beard, replied
t)ie husband.
Still Cora argued, but in vain. Her husband went
off to his business with his unshaved face.
“I don’t know, whether to shavo or not,” said
Douglass, next morning, running over his rough face,
upon which was a beard of forty-eight hour’s growth.
His wife had hastily thrown on. ii wrapper, and, with
slipsHoß feet, and head like a mop, was lounging in
a largo rockipg chair awaiting the breakfast bell.
“For mercy’s sake, Edward, don’t go any longer
wiih that .shockingly dirty face,” spoke up Cora.—
“If you knew how dreadfully you looked!. Why,
what’s comb over you all aLopce?”
' “Nothing, only it’s such a trouble to shave every
day.” •
“But you didn’t shavo yesterday.”
“1 know it; I am just as well off tp>day as iflhad.
So much saved, at any rate."
But Cora argued tho matter, arid her husband final*
ly yielded*, and mowed down the luxuriant growth ol
beard.
“How much better you do look,” said (ho young
wife; “now don’t go another day without shavinge” 1
“But why should I take so much trouble' about
mere looks 7* I'm’just as good with a lung board as
with a short one. It’s a great deal of trouble to
shave every day. You can Move me just as well; and
why need I care about what others say.or think.”
On the following morning Douglass appeared not
only .with a long board, but with a bosom and a col
lar that wore both soiled and rumpled,
j “Why; Edward, how you do look !”said Corn.— j
1 “You’ve neither shaved nor put on a clean shirt.” |
Edward stroked his face, and run his fingers along
the edge of his collar, remarking indifferently, as he.
did so— . : ,
“Its no matter, I look-well enough. This being
so very particular In dress, is waste of lime; and I'm
getting tired of it.” .
And in this trim Douglass wont to his business,
much to the annoyance of bis wife, who could not
bear to see her husband looking so slovenly.- 1
Gradually the declension from neatness went op,
Until Edward wasqaito a match' for his wife, and yet
strange to say; Cora had not taken the hint, broad as
lit was. In her own person, she was as untidy as
I ever. ■ • ‘ .
About six mohttii after their marriage, wo invited
a few friends to spend a social evening with us,Cora
and her Husband among the number. Cora came
alone, quite early, and said Ihdt her husband was
very much engaged,-and could not come until after
tea. My young friend had not taken much pains
with her attire. Indeed, her appcatanco mortified
mo, as'contrasting so decidedly with that of the other
ladies who wet's-present; and t could not help sug
gesting to her that she was wrong In being so indif-.
foront about her dross. But she laughingly replied—
“ You know my fortune’s made now, Mrs: Smith.
I I can afford to bo negligent in these mallets:. It's a
great waste of lime to dress so much.”
I tried to argue agoinst this, but could make nb
impression upon her: ...
About an hour .after tea, and while wo wore all en
gaged in pleasant conversation; the door of the par
lor opened, and In walked Mr. Douglass. At first
glance*! thought T must be mistaken. But no; it
was Edward himself. But what a figure he did cut!
His uncombed hair was standing up, in stiff spikes,
In a hundred different directions; -his face could not
have felt tho touch of a raior for two or three days;
and ho was guiltless of clean iinenv/or at least the
4ame length oflime. His vest was soiled, his bools
unblaokcd,‘and thoto was an unmistakable'hole in
one of his elbows.;- ......
“WhWfSdwurd I” cxclairhed his wife, with a look,
of mortification and dislrtfttfati£her hunbund oomo
ncrort tho room, with a fafeo'Wwhich no conscious
ness of the figure ho cul could be delected.
“Why my dear fellow! what is the matter?” said
my husband, frankly; for ho perceived that tho ladies
began to titter, oHd that the gentlemen were looking
HI each other and trying to repress their visible ten.
denciet; and therefore deemed it best to throw off all
reserve on tho subject.
“The matter J Nothing’s tho matter, I believe.—
Why do you osk?" Douglass looked grave.
“Well may he ask what’s the mailer,” broke in
Cola; energetically. “How could yon come hero In |
such a plight?” • , , , . . ,1
“In such a plight,” and Edward looked down at
himself, felt his beard and ran his fingers through
his hair. “What’s the matter?” Is any Hung
wrong?” . , . ,
“You look as if you’d just waked up from a nap
of a #oek with your clothes on; ohd come off WUh
oui washing yodr face Hr combing your hair, sold
Edward's countenance brightened a
little; Then ho said, with mifeh gravity of manner—
“l bate bebn oalromely hurried of late, and only
loft my store a few minutes ago. I hardly thought
it worth while to go homo anfd dress up. I know we
were .11 friend. hefe; fie.id.., .. my fttlun. i.
made”—and ho glanced with a look not to be mis
taken, toward. Hi. wlfe-"I don’t fool nailed upon t 6
c ive o. much attention to mate dree. aa formerly.—
Before 1 wa. married, It wo. neeo.aary to bo parti
oular In tliaao matter., but now it a of no con..-
’Tinned toward. Cora. 'Her face like crjmaon.-
In a fow moment., «ho aroao and went quickly from
the room. I followed her, and Edward oarno after
u«°pretty .ore. Ha found hi. wife in tour., nod «ob.
bi^.;l m Hac»rUua y :t lb. door," ho. ..id to ma.
a.ide, hafflaughing.Lir .orioo.. “So- help .her on
with her things, and yvo’ll retire In disorder.
“But it’s too bad in you, Mr. Douglaaa,, replied I.
■■Forgive me for making your hoitao the ueono «f
1 Ihia Ir.ion to Cora," ho whiaperod. “It hod to ho
giron'and I thought I could venture to troipaM upon
your forbearance." -
■•I’ll think nboul that,’’ .aid I. ,
In a fow minute* Cnra and liar bu,b *”?. ” li
and In aplto of good breading and erory thingole ,
as “: Sffl ss ssa-ffviJ
twaon themiolvee, I never Inquired. But nno thing
la oortaini I never .aw her in a elovonly dree, after
worde at home or abroad, She wee cured.
Tmriitin a TO ALL Saosao* BAT*M--TCtorUln
neighborhood of Now York ore In
fha h.hil il . charged, ofoolieclinglh.verlou.deed
inlrnofi around .hoW/or «-
>-*Sj
**OUR COUNTRY—MAY ITALWAYB DX RrUIIT—BOt Rlu’jtT OR WRONG, OUR OOUAtBT."
CARLISLE, PA-, THUIISMY,:4IAY 4, 1848.
SPRING! " ‘
1 come, I comb 1 yo have call’d me long I
I come o’er the mountain with light and song!
Ye moy trace my steps o’er the wakeningtlulh,
By the winds which tell of the violet’s birth,
By tho primrose stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green lekvcs. opening os 1 past.
I have look’d,o’er the hills of the stormy north.
And the Urcb has hung all his tassels forth;
The fishes are out pn tnb sunny seS,
And the rein-deer bounds o’er the pasture free;
And the pine has fringe of softer green.
And the moss looks bright where my foot hath been.
THE FIRE-WATER S ACRIFICE.
Bt CHARLES LAKMANi
The historical tradition which 1 am nbw'to narrate,
is said to hate occurred at an early dayon the ox*
Iremo western point of what Is now called Dfum.
mond’s Island in the northern waters of LakeHqron.
1 obtained it from the lips of Kah-gc-ga.gah-boWh of
( Upright Standihgi a youhg chief of the Chippewny
hatioti, who assured me that it commemorated the
first introduction bf the baneful Fire-water into the
Indian cobnlry. -,
It 'Kras the aftofnoon 6f a pleasant day in the
aaUimn-iime, when a trading canoe landed on Drum*
blond's Trland in the vicinity of a Chippoway village.
It belonged to a French trader, and was laden with
a bafrel of whiskey, which ho had brought from the
lower country. Soon as ho had deposited his barrel
upon the beach, he called together the men of the
village, and iold them hb had it in his power to stip*
ply them with a beverage, which would make thorn
exceedingly happy, and that ho was willing lb supply
them with what they wanted, provided they would
give into Ida hands all the furs they had in their pos
session. A bargain, was consequently nude; and
while the entire population oftho Village were quaff*
ing the baneful fire-water the trader pabked away his
treasures in the canoe; and tinder com of night
started upon his return to Detroit., . . ..
The moon and stars camo forth in the northern
sky, and the only sound which broke the solitude of
the wilderness issued from the Indian village, where
the medical man and tho chief, the Indian mother
and her infant wore shouting and dancinjfand fight
ing in delirium of madness. Tho carousal did nbl
• end until tho break of day, and as soon os tho sun
was fairly risen above the horizon, it was rumored
. in every wigwam'that'a young hunter named Nc- 1
mo-a-Kim, or Purple Shell t had taken tho life of a
brother hunter, who happened to be his dearest friend. |
An apparent gloom rested upon every countenance,]
' and as tho more aged Indians reflected dppivlhc sud* |
don disappearance of the trader, and tho headache I
which many of llipm endured, they became greatly, l
enraged, and attributed (ho calamity that had be
fallen Jthem to the burning water. But the trader
who had brought it to thnm was beyond their reach;
so they buried tho murdered man with npj roprinle
honors, and then announced that a council should be
immediately held to decide upon tho fate oftho mor
derer. Blood for blood was demanded by tho rela
tives of the deceased; the lime-honored law of the’
Cliippcwsys could not bo evaded, and a delegation
was appointed lo prepare Nc-mo-a-ICim for the sacri
fice. His lodge was entered by the ministers ofdcalh.
but Ne-mo-a-Kim was not there. They hunted .for
him in all tho wigwams of the village, but no where
could ho bo found. Tho old men who had suffered
wjth him la tho remotest wilderness, and had never
knownhirntribii guilty dbwerdiy deed, now
.hook tlloir hoods in sorrow and disappointment.—
Another council was held, another ancient law re.
membeted, and it was again decided that the only
relative and brother of Ne-mo-a-Kim should suffer in
his stead. Tho name of that brother was Ma-Ko
nah or The Unbending Tine, and when ho was in
formed of his falo, ho uttered not a murmur, but
demanded that his execution should lake place on
tho following night at the rising of tha moon.
And now for another scene in our strange story.—
The sun has long been absent from the western sky,
and once more lias the aolomn midnight settled upon j
the world. The inhabitants of the Indian village
have assembled upon a level green. .Firmly in the
earth have they planted a slake, on each aide of which
ore burning two huge fires, while at the distance of
about ono hundred feet may bo discerned a crowd of
ejrht or ten young men, who arc bending their hows
andwtraightening their arrowa for the cruel deed.-r
A email while cloud makes its appearance shove the
horidoni and a murmur orexcllomenl issues from the
‘crowd bßKdman beluga. Tho proud form of an In
dian ilnow Seen marching across tho green, when
the name of Mo.Ko-noh ia whiapered from oar to oar,
and an unearthly about ascends the upper air. The
heroic man itnnds before the etakc, and iooko with
scorn upon withes lying at his (Col. Tbs people have
confided in hia bravery, and they will not bumble his
proud spirit by resorting lo tho disgraceful Imple
ments of security. Upon his naked breast lisa the
Indian hero pointed Hie uncouth figure of a swan,
as k’certain mark for the arrows which sro to deprive
him of ills life. Around Ids Waists has ho carefully
adjusted his richest robe,and bya motion of his hand,
ho signifies his intention of delivering a speech ; an
intense ellenee reigns throughout tho surrounding
multitude, and Ma-Ko-nah lima addresses his cow
ardly brother, whoso spirit lie imagines to bo hover-
Wdlingly do 1 die for you, my brother; but yell
have disgraced your nation. Yoiir name hereafter
will bo hissed at by little boys, when they pick up
the purple shells on the lake. shore, lam going to j
tho spirit land, and while I B| \“ ' b ° l, ‘P py .'V'“'n
possession of every good, you will he despised by all
who learn your history. Your food will bo bitter,
slid the ground upon which you have to sleep will
always bo uneven, end covered will* tlinrna and atones.
You are a coward my brother; but Ma-Ko-nah la n
bravo irian, and not afraid to die." .
Loud and long wsa the shoot which replied to this
proud spcetli. All things were now ready, and the
falsi moment, when the rl.n of the moan should op
near shove tho distant waters, was nigh at hand.—
Another snowy cloud floated into view, andju.aa
the signal fire was about to bo given by tho great
medicine man, Nc-mo...Klmsuddonly burst through
tho crowd, and throw himself upon ho ground before
hi. brother Ma-Ko-nah. to do.or be the conrualon
that followed wore guile Impossible. It waa suffl
clout to know that Ma-Ko-nah was released from his
obligation, and while lie was lo continue in the land
of tho living, hlS'fopentanl brother was to perish.—
Dul though ne now yielded lihnsc f a willing sacri
fice ills Integrity had bean doubled, and tho lately
untouched thongs were used ,u bind him to .1,.. ska.
Alt tlii/i'gs wefe again ready, the signal was given,
the loud R lwang of tho bowstrings pulled alike same
instant was heard, and tho Cbippsway murderer was
W ?henfghtt.n: b .pl d .V t l.a alienee of the grave
rested upon Ilia wlldernoso.vlllsgo, and aR 'he Ind -
ans, save ono, were naloep in their Wigwams. But
Ma-Ko-nsh was filled witll grief, and the remainder
of Hist night did he spend in hi. lodge, mourning
river tho body of his unfortunate and only brother.—
His father and mrither Were both .dead, as also was
hr.wrresnd t 1.6 heart of Ma-Ku ban was very dea
ol.le Soendod tho story oftho fire-w.ler S.prl
fide- ' ■
ET Tho Propheey of Napoleon relative to (he
tical deiliny of Europe has often Been deferred to of
tale. The (following Is the entire passago;oxlraoled
(torn Lae Cades. The language wee uaed fn 1831 .
••In leaelhan fifty year. from theJ"'" d n<
thu whole European system will ho changed. The
French will onel the flourbons and their debts off, as
my Arabian eleod would any .1 ranger who would
dare lo mount him. Thcn ( lfmysonboln«h.tonoe;
he will bo aeated on the throne amid the aoolamatlone
of the people; If ho be not, Franco will go back to a
Republic, for no other hand will dare In soiia a aoen-
it cannot wield, The Or cans branch,
though amiable, ate too much like other Bourbons,
and will share the oamo fate, if they do not ohosc to
live as simple oiliions underwhalovoro^nge.ako
place. Franco oheo more a Republic, ot,l< ![
will follow her example I Gerrnanß.Pruaiian.. I«J
Italians. Danes, Swedes, and Ru.ilan.,Vlll •>* i
in the otueado for liberty."
,V DIGNITY of labor.
We hat? hoard among the idlers, who float like
drift-wood ]on tho aarTace of society, contemptuous
flings whose heritage is toil.' They snocr
at what they call the hard and swarthy hand ofUbor,
bat they forgot that of ell that Is utcfhli luxurious or
Ucaoliml onthls earth, toil has been the creator—
that from tho.marble palace to the white kid gloves
of tho tailor’s most exquisite Walking-sigh, all has
beed wrod&htoot by humon hands. Much of it, too,
at a painful cost to human hearts far more sensitive
of the real dignity of manhood than the most bediz*
end and perfumed of these scornera of labor. It Is
I the toil ofvthcse hard hands that has. reared empires
in (he planted republics in the wilderness of 1j
a new wpfld—that has hewn the rock in the quarry,!,
and boiltthe temples and monuments of nations— ,
that has achieved whatever fame belongs to genius)
witli the jtfJalptor’s chisel, the painter’s pencil, and
(ho poot’i'pch—that has winged the ocean with
white sau&.and exchanged the products ,ttf every
clime—tmd has measured the circles of the stars,
and plumed the lightning to descend upon wires and
bo the now Mercury of the world. Labor! why, man
Of Idlchejfs; lab'or’rockcd you in tho cradle and has
nourished your pampered life—without It, tho woven
silks and'wool upon your hack would be In the silk*
worm’s rjcsl and the fleeces in the shepherd’s fold.
For the rtyoanest thing that ministers to human Went,
save the sir of heaven, man is indebted to (oil; and
even thc*alr, by God’s wise ordination) Is breathed
with .labq'H It Is only Iho drones who 101 l not, who
infest ib&mvos of activity like masses of corruption
and decay, . Tho lords of the earth are the working
rnen,wheqan build or east down at their will) and
who retort tho shier of the “sod handed” by pointing
to their I '.trophies wherever art, science, civilisation
and humanity arc known. Work on, man of toil!
thy royuiily is yet to boaCknowledgcd ns labor rises
1 toward the highest throho of power,
L in tho language of a true poet,* bo
•* A glorious man I and thy renown shill be .
•Dome by tho winds and waters through all lime,
While there's a keel to carve it on the sea
Prom clime to clime.
Or God ordains that idleness Is crime 1"
*2Ulpt> Hoyt's Blacksm’th’s Night.
THE LONS BUFFALOf
ST CHARLES LANMAN.
Amonf the many legends which the .traveller fre
quently hoars, Vfhilo crossing the pfaifics of the far 1
West, I remember one, which accounts in a most ro* 1
mantio manner for the origin of thunder. A sum
mor-atotm woi sweeping over the land, and 1 had 1
sought a temporary shelter in the lodge, of a Sioux
Indian on the banks of the St. Peters. Vividly flash
ed the lightening, and an occasional peal of thunder
echoed through (he Armament. While tho storm
continued my host and his family paid but at
tention to my comfort, for they were evidently slrick
on wilK,torror. I endeavored toqubll their fears,and
for that purpose asked them a iariely of questions
respecting their people, but they only replied by ro.
pouting, in a dismal tone, the name of the Lone Buf
falo. My.curiosily was of course excited, and it may
b? readily imagined that 1 did not resume my jour
ney without obtaining an explanation of the mysliu
words ftwnd.from him who first ullened them in the
Sioux ladge l subsequently obtained the iolloitlng
Jegemfjv
Theresas a chief of the Sioux flame
was (lib Master Boar. He was famous asa prophet and
hunter, and was a particular favorilo with the master
of Life. In an evil hour ho partook of tho while
man’s fire-water, and in a fighting broil unfortunate.
Iy look the life ofa brother chief; According to an
cient custom blood was demanded for blood, and when
next the Master Bear went forth to hunt, ho was way-
laid, shot through llic licait with an arrow* and hU,
body deposited in front of hia widow’s lodge. Bit
terly did the woman bewail her misfortune, now mu
tilating her body inlhomoslhcrolc.nianner,andunoi»-
narrating to her only son, o mere infant, the promi
nent events of her husband's life. Night came, and
with her child lashed uponhor back, the woman cree
led a scaffold on the margin of a neJghboringttronm,
and with none to lend Jicr a helping.liand, enveloped
the corps in her more valuable robes, and fastened it
upon the scaffold. She completed her task just as the
day wub breaking, when she returned to Tier lodge,
and shutting herself therein, spent the three follow
ing day* without lasting food.
Ouriog her retirement the widow had a dream, in
which she was visited by the Master of Life, Ho
endeavored to console her in her. sorrow, and for the
reason that he had loved her husband, promised to
make her son s more famous warrior and medicine
man thin his father had been. And what was more
remarkable, this prophecy was to bo realized within
the period of a few weeks. She told her story in the
village, and was laughed at for her credulity.
On the following day, when the yilldge boys were
throwing the ball upon the plain, a noble youth sud
denly mode his oppoarance among the
eclipsed them all in the bounds he made and the
wildness of his shouts; Ho was a stranger to oil,
but when the widows dream was remembered, ho was
recognized us her son, and treated with respect, But
the youth was yet'without n mime, for his mother
had lolled him that he should win one for himseU by
his individual prowncs*.
Only a few days had elapsed, when It was rumor
ed ihai o parly of Pawnees had overtaken and dcs.
troyod a Siouz hunter, when it was Immediately do.
torinined In council that o parly of one hundred war
i-lors should start upon the war path and revenge the
injury. Another council was held fertile purpose of
appointing a loader, when a young man suddenly
entered the ring and claimed the privilege of leading
the way. His authority was ongrily questioned, but
the stringer only replied by pointing to the brilliant
oogiu l . fcntliero on hi. head,end by .baking from bn
boll a largo number of fresh Pawnee acaloa. 1 1 hoy
reutombored the stranger boy,and acknowledged tlio
supremacy of the stronger man.
Wilt settled Upon tbo pralfe World) and tho Sioux
warriors slatted upon (lie war path. _Mo rnirjir dawn
ed, and a Pawnee village was m poHea, ohd [bo bo
dies of ninny hifndrod men, women, end children
wore left Upon the ground no food for tbo wolf and
vulture. The Sioui worriers returned to their own
onoompmortl, when it wa. ascertained thatthoname,
leas leader had taken more Ilian twice n» many •cnlpa
as Ilia brother warrlora. Then it woe that a feeling
of jealousy oroao, which waa aoonqntoled, however,
by the nows thol the Crow Indiana liad stolon a num
ber of horses and many voluublo furs from a Sioux
hunter as ho waa returning from the mountains. An
other warlike expedition waa planed; and as before,
the norooloaa wnrttof look tho toad. . ,
Thb ittn woo" nest his ootllng, end no the Stood par
ty looked down upon a Crow village which occupied
the centre ofu charming volley, tho Sioux chief com
manded the attention of hia nrovoa, and addrcaiod
them In lira following language t , , t
•I I am about to dlo iny brolhora, and must apeak
mv mind. To bo fortunate in war la yoof chief am.
billon, and became 1 hava been auccaaiful yoif ore,
Unhappy. I. this right? Hava you solid ikaman?
I despise you for your meanness, end J intend o
prove to you this night that I am the bravest mao In
tho nation. ,Tha taSk Will polrrto my, Hf- bpl If"
,loan my life, I want you when lam
outoffMs haija- brMlho Uf>0 n them, when I
I m y heed together, ana s n i r jt l land ot all umci,
»b.H bb f '«V:r» Pr.irle-land wb.n"vor I pt 0...-
your heart, are troubled with wlehodnca.
attack" borrow villose wn. aucce.fnl,
b ffhT di d?.f-n:d?:n c d oy w ß :r.
that
it°is she who anhually sends ftora lho spirit laqd the
warm winds of spring, which cover the prairies with
grass for the sustenance of the Buffalo race. As to
the Lone Buffalo* he Is never seen even by the moat
cunning hunters, excepting when the mboh.isat its
full. At such times he islntariabty alone, trapping
hit food In some remote part of the prairies j and
whenever the heavens resound with the meanings
of the thunder, the red man banishes from his
breast every feeling of Jealousy, for he believes it to
be the warning voice of the Lone Buffalo.
OrdAam's Afogadhe.
O’CONREIiXi’B TACT IN OROSS-BXAftUKA-
TION.
He was once examining a witness, whose Inebrie
ty st the time to which the evidence referred, it was
essential to Ida client's case to prove; Ho quickly
discovered the man's character. He was s fellow
.who may be described as ‘half foolish with roguery.*
“Well, Darby, you told the truth to this gentle*
man?*'— your honor,Coiihsellnr O'CopncH."
“How do ypd knbw name 7"—‘“Ah I sure every
one knows our own palhriot,"
“Well, you are a good humored; honest fellow;
now tell me, Darby, did you take a drop of any thing
that dayf'*—“Why* yb(lr honor,* 1 took i ny e/isre of a
plni ofspints.** ,' •
“Your share of It? now, by virtue of yoof natty
was not your share of it —but tht
Why, then, deer knows, that's true for you, sir."
The coo'rt was convulsed at both question and
answer. It soon came o(it; step by stfeprthat the
man was drd*>k, and was not, therefore, a competent
witness. Thus O’Connell won his case for his client.
Hero is another instance of his ready tact and in*
finite refioiirfcc Ih (ho dfefbnbe of, his. clients; In a
trial at Cork for murder, iho principal witness swore
1 Strongly against the prisoner* He particularly swote
' (hut a hat found near ihe the murder be*
' longed to the prisoner, whose'name was James.
' “By virtu? of your oath, are you stiro that this is
ihe dqme hat!/ ,, *r*“Yei.” ’
“Did ybii examine it carpfolly before you swore In
your information that it vtaa the prisoner's?”—“l
did.”
‘♦Now* let roe see,” said O’Connell, at he took up
the hat, and began lo examine it carefully In tho In
side. He then spelled aloud the name of James
slowly, thus—J-a-tn-o-a. Now, do you mean those
words were in the hat when you found it.”—“l do.”
“Did you see them there!”—“l did.”
“And this is the sanio bat t”—“lt is.”
“Now* mf Iprd, aald O’Connell, holding up the hat
to the bench, “there la an end of tho is no
name whatever inscribed In the Hal* The ifeviilt
was an instant acquittal.—Fagan’s Lift ond Time 9
of o'ConneU,
THF FISHERMAN.
I was, sometime since, walking upon the wharf
where a fishing boat lay; and as I was passing and
reposting, the master was uttering most tremendous
oaths. At length I turned to him, and standing be;
side Ills boot, said i , , __
“Slr,‘ I stri unacquainted with yorfr business.—
What kind of fishes srb these?” ... . ;
“How long are you usually out to obtain your
loadl” t ..
“Two*.or Hires weeks, 10 wnS the answer.
“At what price do you tell them? 11
Ho informed me. . . ■
“Well, have you not hard wort* to obtain a bring
thle,wpyr , V - ■ ■ .■.
“ice, hard worli 0 «atd ho.. , . ..
“With what do you Bait ihelfffifhT’ Ibnijaired,
“With clams."
••Did you ev6r catch mackerel?"
“Yea."
“Well, now, did you over catch a fieh without a
ba
“Ye*,' 1 raid ho—“I was out Inal yitr, and on# day
when 1 was fixing myllne, my hook dropl into the
water, and lh« fool look hold of it, and I drew him
i in”
•‘Now, sir,* 1 said 1, “I Me often Ihotfghl that 1
Satan wae very much like a bshermah. He always
baits hie hook with the kind of bait which different
sorts of sinners like beatj but When Ifo would cslcb a.
profane swearer, ho does not take the trouble to pul
on any ball at all for the*fool will always bite at a
bare hook.'* > . ■ . i
He was silent—his countenance was solemn, and
after a moment's pause, ns I turned to go I
liO'trd him say to one standing bv him. -
*k| guess that's a minister.”—Aflrror.
WESTERN BLOi
The following eloquent passage appears In a
Western paper: (
Gentlemen of the Jury:—Can you for an initnnl
auppoee that my client hero, « man what 'liae allore i
sustained a lilgll dcgredalion in t ucicly, a man you
all on you suspect and esteem for, hia many good
quantities; y,ea t gentlemen,a man what never drinks
more nor a quart of iikkor a day; oan you, I say for
an instant,suppose that this ere man would bo guilty
of hooking a box of precusbum caps? Rattlesnakes
and coon skins forbid I Picture yourselves, a feller
fast asleep in Ills log cabin, with his innocent wife
and orphan children by Ilia side—all nalor hushed in
deep roposo, ami ndngh to bo heard but the mutter,
ing of the silent thunder, and the hollorln of the bull
frogs; then imagine to yourselves, a feller sneaking
up to the door like a despicable byona, softly enter,
ing the dwelling of the peaceful happy family, and
• in the most mendacious and dastardly manner,hook
• ing n whole box of prccushum 1 Gentlemen, I will
■ not, I cannot dwell upon the monstrosity of such a
> scene I - My feelings turn from such a picture-of
f mural lurpontlno, like a big wood chock wou d turn
■ from my dog Growler! J cannot (or an Instant
r harbor the Idea that any man In these digglns, mooli
I less th ft ere man, could bo guilty of committing on
not of such rantonkoroos and uncxtramplod ditcro
tloAnd now gentlemen after this ere brief view of the
case, lot mo rulronl of you to mako up your mind
candid and unpartlally and give us a verdict as wo
reasonably suspect from such an enlightened and
Intelligent body ofcllitons, remembering, Hint In the
language of Nimiod, who foil at the hauls of Bunker
Hill it is bolter that ten innocent men should escape
than that the one guilty should suffer. Judge give
ui a chow oflobacK'jr. .
From iho Of rmnntown Telegraph.
INSECTS ABOUT FRUIT TREES.
SALT.
It js of. tho greatest importance, that si insects
about fruit trees should ho destroyed. This desire
bio end is effected In a variety of ways, one of which
I will mention.' As.soon aa your trees begin to oast
their frilit.'lurn'in your swine no matter how many
(fyotfrorihafd ji of don.fd.raM. six., and permit
them 10. remain IhofilfllMieftoll attains lu• "«*
mum also. By examination yoo WdiHndlh. ymo l
invariably every apple,'pear or olhef, ftult ' 1
nb and fed to tho swine In their.lyes.
?i7mi and «s'lias, applied In considerable quantities,
• PI || l# Ireland aa a
me'dToa'l agJcl in cheeking the ravage, orftmenreu-
P '"l!Vi n . d l« n Jg2 J *"By wlde^n^e
mftja with ••It," /write* * friend lonff dl«*
tfognished for hi. enterprise and intelligence fn the
nurault of affrloullunl Improvement, I find th»t
manv plants* flourish well with, 10 .mo6h salt, as
would immediately probe fatal la others—thns the
onantlty I accord lo a few roots of asparagus would
Sestro, an oak. I an. of opinion that those plant,
which do not, receive immediate injury from the ap
plication of this aub.loneo, will derive groat benefit
from it." L ' M '
April!. IMS., . . .
Contrast.— A prooislonol government In France
and a one In tfriafid,; J ,
HOUSEHOLD BEDSHTKBinti
GftTtRAL KSiUftU o» lngredleott fltf
cakes, at well at for pudding*, should all be fresh
and good; at wall as free from damp).ifaelightofcsa
|of man/ kind* depend* entirety on that given to the
I «Rgs by wlilsklngi and by the manner la which tbk
| whole f* mixed. A. iribll portion of carbonate of
ieodo, which will not bo in tho slightest degree per}
Iceplible to thetasto after the cakeTsbakebJ Tcibrowh
in just before the mixture is put into ths oven will
ensure Us rising vfrcll.
To guard against tho bitterneaa so often imparted -
by yeast, when it is used for cakes or biscuits, it
should bo sparingly added, and the spong should bo
loft twice the usual time to rise. This tnothod wilt
bo found to answer equ illy with bresd. For exatn*
pie: should a couple of spoonfuls of yeast be ordered
in a receipt, when it is bitter, use but one, and let :t|,
stand two hours, instead of half, the'timet the far*
mentation, though slow, will be quite as perfect Self
ii were more quickly effected, and (ha cake or {pajT
thus made, wilt nbt become dry by soy means t«j
soon as if a larger portion ol yeast "Wort mixed
with it. * ’
All light oo ) kes require a. rather brisk oven to raws
and act thcm| very Urge rich ones a weltauslalned
degreq of heat, sufficient to bake them through; and
amall'iugar cakes a veiy'tlbw oven; to prevent their
taking a deep color before they are half dqne, gin*
gerbread, too, should be gently baked, ooleas It bo of
the light thick kind. . .
'■ To ascertain whether a cake bo doDe,tbnrot i
knife into the centre, and should this coma oat elcspj
draw It from the oveu directly | but should the
paste adhere to It, continue the baking* Bevertl
I sheets 6'fpapbr arc pltftcd usually under largo plum»
cakes. ■ *'
Vert Good rich C*EEi—Bc*t and mix wctl
together four eggs properly wKiiked, and half*
pound of fine Billed sugar? pouf to theiji by degrees
a quarteNporind of clarified btitler,as little warmed-
D 8 possible ; stir light!/ In with these foor bonce* of
dry allied flour, boat tho mixture for about ten spin* .
utca, put It into small .buttered patty-pans, and bdkb
tho cubes n quarter of ah hour in a moderate ©ten*
They should be flavored with the'rasped or grated
rind of a small lemon, or with pounded mace or do'
nlmoQ, .
Eggs, 4} sugar, I*s lb.; butter, 4 ounces: flour,
4 oxs; Icuton rind, msec, or cinnamon: baked 15 min*
ulce. >
GjHoerEreaD.—For a simple kind of gingerbread
the following ingredients only are needed; one quilt .
of molasses; s tea-capful of butter, and ono of cream;
two lea-spoonfuls of pearlssh or salerstua; a
spoonful or two of ginger; and flour.
Take as much flour asyou think the molasses and
cream wilt wet; rub tho butter thoroughly into tho
floor { crush the saleratos very fine, and put U Irittt'
the crearh. Now add the bream, find molasst*, aim
ginger, to the flouf, and kneed It into a dough of a
proper consistency (u roll out Into sheets or cakes, at
may be desired,' ~ . . . —i *#
Soil Gingerbread Is made by mixing three tMU
cupfuls of mollies, one uf melted butter, one table*
spoonful of ginger,'four weif beaten eggs; After rail,
log the above together, add a few handful* of flour.’
and then a tea-cupful of cream, with, a lea-spoonful
of salcfatus dlsolved in it; Then alir sufficient flour
to make it uf a thickness to just enable you to atirlt
If m'K u,ed In'
■teed of cream,'add more butler, ' ' BctroHppinp
aro defy nice for a part of Hie aborting, -• , ,t.
Cur Cake.— To three, cups of light bresddoagli,
add two cups crushed .sugar, one cup of biitier,
a cup of cream or milk, a tea-spoonful of ealefafUsi
a tea-spoonful of einnimon, and a 1 grated nutmegs-
Beat this well together for fifteen or twenty minute*.
Three or four eggs improve this oake, but ll is very
good without them. Aftei the abovq aro well mlsed;
put the same Into your cake-pans, aha let ll refaslti
half an hour before setting in the oven.
,' - I
Butter BuiicuiTf.'—Take,four poiinda of flour, and
pul into it one pound of bolter, and ■ littlo atli.—
Then wet with eufficicnl water or milk to form p
■tiff dough i and kneed it Ter/ hard. After It >•
well end thorough!/ kneeded, beat llic dough hard,
on bjjuldea with a rolling pin lor male time. Then
roll ihPdough and cut it into email.round
Thcae cukea alionld be pounded agkin on both tide*,'
priokedi and baked in a moderate ovrn.
bUBNCB.
o^-An enigma,' aaid to have been written b/ Mr.
Canning,' wlileli, for a length of lime, baffled the
akill of all England to eblret
••Thfto 1« ■ word of plural nnmhtr,
A fnn .peace and human •lumber,
Now an> word 701/ chance to taka.
Hy*ddlngB.»ou plural make;
But If you add an 810 thla. .
How etranae the metamorphoala:
Plural, la plural then no more. •
Ami aweet, \vhM biller wm before." , . ..
Soto/ton.—Tho word la corei, to which by adding
on S you have cartti.
Extraordinary Fratr or a Tamr Polar Drar.—•
Al Churchill, a whaling parly shot a boar and one of
her cubs \ the other cub they look alive Into the boat,
and brought him to the Factory, and being vtrjf
young, became quite lame. Al firal, bo had,U». be
carefully protected from the doge, but by tho time
1,0 wee two munllia old, ho woa a match for anyof
. them j and, being aonielhlng of a pugllial. the,blow*
nfhia fore pitwa taught them to keep their dialance.
Thu* bruin continued to grow, andjita many trick*
mode him a favoritb, oapccially with the eollore, whd
often wreatiod with him. Invito aeverily of winter,;
witen apruce beor could not bo kept from Treating,
each more of four men hud a full quart of. moharoa.
In lieu of beor. Bruin wae fond of beer and grogf
uaod, every Saturday, to accompany the men In the
.toward', ehed, and when tho weekly raOona were
given out, the ateward gave him ahme pn one of nie
fore paws, which wae anon cleaned into Me mouln»
On one of thcao daye.'lho etoward and bruin .quar
relled, and na a puniahmcnl, bruin got no mql.raea,
He eat very quietly al the door, white Jit, fie net a
wee putting ell in order, and acoing him ready to
■hut tho door, made a daah at the bngahead of mb.
“eoe. and Ihr'it.llng hi. head and neck £ he ah uY;
dera into 11.0 half (Wen , ' f
amutament of the ateward, earned offalargo gallon
l.f. .hacrli hair, lie walked to (lie. end of tho
1 yard, eat down on Ilia raiup.aiidthcn.firalcnopaw^
' than with the oilier ho brought tho nioleaaea into hie
Sh.iktll Ue had cleaned that part ofW*
Miimekinir hi* tongue moat dellciouily. Whetdver
„ M ,,rel, ? bruin and jho .toward had aftorword»,,the
uller alwayt look caro to give the former hie abate
nfmoiaaiea. Every Saturday night, the aaliore had
(hofr allowance of rum, and bruin wia auro.lq And
hia way into tho guardroom. One night ha had
tailed inme grog from acme ofthem | be came to a
ta ilor accnalomed to wrealle with him, who wae
drinking too freely, and btoin wae eo • r "‘‘
ed, that he got drunk. With one.of hia (ore pawa,
ho knocked the oollor down, and look poaaoaaion of
hia bed. At fi»lcuff«, Hia aallur waa aura Ip he beaten .
and, being determined Ingot potaeeaion of hi, bed,
h. .hot bruin—a a.d effect ° f ‘XS^uall.i
Maanrino TOIL Moukt,—A prudent and wall dla,
po.td mojjjbor of lha Soolotjof Frionda" ono# jL«
lha following IVlondly adrlca;, .
••John,” aaid ha, “I hoar thou ail goinf lo bd
married." •
**Yet "■ replied John. “l am." ,- , -
« Well," rejoined thortiin of' *•*> 5f V!£ha»lr
lUlla plpca of adalca to give ,h *f'Whan
to marry a woman worth more th fiL C enli, aoij
t married rn?'wlTe,r w«" fltf
aha wot worth .moo, ,ho hart 7:
, dllforoncp haa pcoMff o .j **' ‘ ' ’*
AT (200 FEE ANHUI. ; '
no :■■«*