ASpEICAN VOLUNTEER. <■ ■ 'ftffatantti TinrhsuAT’ v’onfiiiitj : irtful !>• Ilrfcttpn> ■ ; • term s; ; 'SMioaimo;..—One.Dollar and Fifty Ccbts, UM lh fulrflnco j Two DollArs if paid within tho rMri «a !TWo DdHars and Fifty Cents, If not paid with!n:tho year. Thoflo torms will bo rig fdlf.Whetod'tbia'e+dry instance. Nosubscrip- Mba dlicootlbned until all arrearages are paid nbloM dt the : optloh of tho Editor. by tho cash, and met exoeeding ono square, will bo Inserted tferso'times for ono Dollar, and twenty-fivo cents forsabb additional insertion. Those of a groat. be Ungtb in proportion; . JoB-PaDtriHo—Such as Hand-bills, Posting, bills, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &c., &c., cze. entsd with acoarary and oVtho shortest notice. faetiral. BUM BO? AT PLAY. or ELIZA COOK. , Tho blind boy's been at piny, mother, ; . And merry games wo had; Wo led him on our way,, mother, And every stop was glad. Out when wo found a starry -flower. And praised Its varied hue, A tqar came trembling down his cheek, Just like a drop of dew.' Wo took him to tho mill, mother, , Where falling waters made A rainbow'o'er tho rill, mother, j. As golden sun-rays played ,* . But - when we shouted at tho sccno, And hailed tho clear blue sky, -llq stood:quite still upon the bank. And.breathed a long, long sigh. Wo naked him why ho wept, mother, Whcno’r no found tho spots Whbro periwinkle crept, mother, O’er wild forget*hie-nota} *Ah mb I* he said, while tears ran down As fast as summer showers, tty-hTbocanso £ cannot sco Tho sunshine and the flowers.’ Oh I fliat poor sightless boy, mother, Has taught mo 1 am blessed, For I can look with Joy, mother, On all 1 love tho best; And when I see the dancing stream, And daisies rod and white, I kneel upon the medow sod, And thank my God for sight. BISTE SOT-BEST SOT. Without haste! without rest! Bind the motto to thy broat! Bear it with thee as a spelt, iSUrm or sunshine, guard it well, Meed not flowers that round tbco bloom, Bear it onward to the tomb ! Haste not—let no thoughtless deed Mar tor o’er the spirit spued; Ponder well and know the right, Oaward thou with alt thy might! Haste not—years can ne’er atone For one reckless action done. Rest not—life is sweeping by, Do and dare before you die 5 Something mighty and sublime Leave behind to conquer lime. Glorious *tis to leave for nyo, When those forms have passed away Haite not / licit not! calmly wait, Meekly bear the storms of fate. Duty be thy polar guide— Do the right whate’er betide! Haste not- rest not—conflicts past, God shall crown thy work at last.. Ctiow Calf DUBLIN G A STORY OF NEW YORK. DI MATHEW a. FIELD. enUTBR I Not long after the last war with England, an unpleasant occurrence .look place one evening in the theatre in New York. Charles Percy- a young American, with his betroUud bride. Cornelia Neville, and Stephen Percy, his elder brother, sat in one of the curtained boxes near the stage, being attracted by the name of a new star from England in Rhakspearo'a lovely creation of ‘Rosalind* ’ British olilccrs were ■ st.ll lounging about the city, on their way ei ther to or from Canada, or waiting to complete arrangements for departure by sea to England and they haunted the public places with nn os lentat aua display of proud bearing, seeking, in this unworthy way, to wound tho vanity of ‘ t' 0 : e they could not conquer in any nobler con • 'm tention. The hnutv and insolent spirit that -•* had marked the conduct of these officers during .-Tjk, ail Ihdr in crcourse with tho Americans, was about this t|me betrayed more unreservedly than ever, and their bitter chagrin at the re suit of the war manifested itself in petty at .vSlvvJtfmpts at annoyance in every way they could n -&rl yiSc It to their successful oppo- They were disappointed at tho tenni. '■W C*jjlJtonof their residence abroad, vexed at the L ; : of the Americana, enraged at the fall •v ■ Bjjjtlory of Brittania ujK»n the Inch seas, and Mfwrod with a gnawing and restless spleen, tut ‘rendered their actions everything the oppo- amiable. The haughty bearing toward Anjericans, fostered during tho war as much bjf’despotic policy as domineering inclination. VM a thing too deeply rooted to bo Suddenly R&fainorphoscd into more gentle behavior, even ttjfsd important a change in relative position orf bad then taken place between them and their Ittafocs. In short, they were reckless and Without curb; the younger ofliccrs, especially. WL giving full reign to their volalilo humor, and often plunging headlong into actions that, in tiriser moments, they themselves regretted. ” Cornelia Neville had been long an enthusinti ilc admirer of ShuUspenre, though only now her acquaintance with stage rep . Her favorite, the brilliant come fou Like It,', no full of immortal as well as elegant wit, graceful as well as harmonious embodiment was the play of the evening: and i girl, with rapt enjoyment, laved I led among, tho musical ripples of ' dark eyu bent its light, through a ir, that she never bought to dash > tho wanderer Orlando, and his tdara; while tho next moment her »H gushed out at tho drollery of or her eloquent exclamations were I sympathetic comment upon tho roua sadness’ of Jaquea. Just af-! observation among themselves,, P art y into unrestrained , '! l . aa .N.ville j oingd with a tatmam or hcr C (v!i? lt v from tl '°B'ntrous at (h W r 6 “ tu P°n tho Hudson. th ' ll,cr y of tho King, lean. l' CXI 5° x ;, drcw * B 'do tlie dra at tho the lady flifljßmllo, without turning her eyes was oSSsbojof tho rack. action, and wfth’th“ *W»W t*»t which is an amiahlo rcdncincnt of no token of her knowledge. Sho kntwfcnmtho Mery, temper of-tho two brothers and Unowned she could prevent their olwerva uonoTwhat. if seen by them, would inevita bly produce Rome Rnions comwqmmoes. She attention 1 inslanily to the stage and laujthea anew with hcariler freedom than ever, raid Hte’oH jocose remarks upon costume, ges- else caught her eye, with a Viyifflyyf nlfpiant as it was Irresislablc. The into the box for many moments: the drapery full, and retiring, MjOwtKarillo thought, without having been ««n br tho Percy’s. Poor girl! she never ditttsal that Charles Percy was going thro' itmenran. BY JOHN B. BRATTON. VOL 41. with M excellent a piece of noting as she had herself performed. It is true she succeeded in keeping tho attention of Stephen melted bn the passing scene, and apparently the mind of Charles, also ; hut the quick eye of the lover had seen all. While no clouding of the sun shine upon his brow bctra3 r ed the burning indigna tion suddenly alive within his heart. ‘Beautiful 1 beautiful! 1 said Charles Percy •O, how the transcendent eloquence of that pas sage, Cornelia, triumphs oven over the tame and soulless manner of the actor! Tho dolt I Ho boa been dropping gems from his tongue, and docs not know it. ‘Tongues In trees, books in the running brooks. Sermons in stones, and good in everything.* How touching and bow true the thought! how glowing and natural the form of expres sion ! how euphonious the lines I continued Charles, after repeating them ; ‘and yet bow inconceivably vapid and dull is tho actor who stands before us. the mouth-piece of such mu sic of the brain!' •In just such tones you may bear a thread and-needle merchant counting up his charges,’ replied tho laughing girl; “tape, two-and-six pence: sowing silk, one shilling: satin, five shillingsneedles, twopence; just six-and cight-pence. madam." Charles laughed again, seemingly in tho lightest mood in the world, and quite innocent of the knowledge that anything had taken place, till after trifling in a gay way a little longer, he suddenly seemed to discover some thing of interest to him in the lobby opposite. At this moment a boisterous merriment was beared in the box near them. A burning crimson flashed and passed rapidly over tho face of Charles Percy. ‘Stephen, is not that Harry* Txmgworth. standing near that lobby door to tho right?’ asked Charles ofhis brother. *Um ? which? 0,1 see. replied Stephen. Yes, that’s Harry,' ‘lf Miss Neville will excuse me. I have a communication of some importance to make to him. 1 said Charles, with a calm smile upon his handsome face ‘Will you oblige us by going ?’ said Stephen Percy: *f have a communication myself to make to this fair Indv.* 'Pray. go. sir/ said the lady, with mocking ontrrntv. ‘Go ” repented Stephen : allow me to solicit you in the imperative mood to get out!’ and raising from his scat, he pushed his brother out of the box. “Go on, Mr. •Jaques,’ said he sotn roen. ns he resumed his Rent. Charles Percy hurried around tho lobby to his friend. ‘Lentworth. come with me !’ ex* 1 claimed Charles, in an emphatic whisper, snatching the gen’lenmn he addegsed by the arm. and hurrying him toward the box where tho rude strangTs wore. A moment more, and the two young Ameri cans stood in the box alluded to. in tho pres ence of five officers in British uniform, who re matni-d seated. Charles Percy having calmly closed the door behind him. ‘A piece of nngcntlcumnly rudeness has been rommitted in this box.’ Raid Percy, in firm and impressive accents. ‘The lady in tho next box is one to whom I. have the honor of standing in the relation of protector, and— 1 ‘Pon my soul, my dear fallow, I envy you !’ said one of the officers. •• •You cannot trifle with me sir!’ returned Percy, quickly, but still calmly, though a dangerous light shot from his evens he spoke. •Can’t snv wo know you, Mister ! ’ drawled another of the officers. ‘You *ha(t know me, sir!’ replied Percy.— ‘Gentleman. 1 continued ho. ‘for T hold you, as officers of the English army, entitled to be so considered. I ask to be informed who drew tho curtains from that box. and impudently stared for some moments at a lady with whom he is unacquainted ?’ At this, one of the officers who had not bo forespohen. rose to his feet, exhibiting, in the action, evident indications of excessive convi viality. ‘Sir,' said he. ‘you may do me the honor to address yourself to me. 1 •Then, sir, as my presence cannot bo over agreeable here, and os your conduct has com pelled me to leave pleasanter society, you may state, as briefly as you please, exactly what you meant by that demeanor to which, you must understand, I take most posilive excep tion. ' Another officer hero rose, end seemed about to commence some violent out-break, when lie who had avowed himself as the offender, laid his hand stonily on his friend's shoulder, and declared, in a thick voice, that it was hia af fair- ‘Sir,’ said he to Percy, with all the ab surd dignity of a lipsyman. ‘you arc, if I am not mistaken, a .' lie was very near saying rrbrl, but stammered an instant, and finished tho interrogatory with—‘on Ameri can?’ ‘Long live the Union, and God bless my country !’ said Chailcs Percy, with an enthu siasm of tone that he scorned to icatram. ‘Well, sir, I must allow that you yet bear very strong similitude to a gentleman. As you intimate that you are in a hurry, and as we can most unanimously grant you leave of absence, I suppose you desire my card?’ ‘That, or an unequivocal apology, sir-' ‘The first is the most convenient, Mister A* mcrlcnn.' said the officer, handing his card which Percy immediately look, putting Ids own into tho Englishman’s hand at the same moment- ‘Good night!’ said the British offi cer. Percy and Longworlh bowed and left the box. CHAPTER If. Tho nuptials of Charles Percy and Cornelia Neville had been agreed upon with great joy, not only by the destined bride and groom, but by their two families, and their whole circle of relations and friends. The approaching union of the young couple seemed to present a broad and manifest contradiction of the old poet's as* scrlion, that 'the course of true love never did run sinoothc,' for never did two hearts twine more fondly and firmly around each other, and never did the world seem more flrco from any obstacles to tho happiness that true lore sigh* cd for. Alas! how blind arc we to tho stu pendous changes tho turning of an hour glass may weave in tho frail tissues of our destiny ! Wonderful as tho mechanism of the eye, deli cate as the fabrication of beautiful spots upon tho wing of a butterfly, is tho microscopic mul titude of undreamed of events that move the hearts of men and the destinies of nations in tho quick passing of a single moment! Tho morning after .the incident at tho thea tre, related in our first chapter, Charles Percy was called upon by Col. Stanford, a young ofii cer in Ilia Majesty's service,whose family rank at home n»»d high reputation in the nrmy went jaud m hand to confer upon him honor. lie as accompanied by two friends, two of those h<. mni’V* V l . t / , ° k° x tho evening before, and dim n . Is J , l hochallcngo sent to him lldit nr"'?® by l ‘ n 6 Percy. In the frank in ™ Ko,tl . cr ' n,)(J «ilh the graceful cSlcnKiff 1 ° mo “’ Col addressed his withmn l ?" Gentlemen who ,vero "L" "'JJ' ,I ' cot >° I«st evening, accompany me now. The olhor two could not convenient- “ODE CODNTET—rMAY IT ALWAYS BE BIGHT —BUT EIGHT OB WRONG, OUB COUNTRY.” ly attend roc, or I would have rejoiced that you should see them here also, to hear mo roost sincerely declare my regret for the occurrence of last evening. I will not ask you to spare me the humiliating.confession that imprudence had rendered me for a time forgetful of respect for .myself and others.for a man’s shame should be in committing on error, and not in its ac knowledgement. I behaved uncortcously, sir, to the annoyance of a lady and yourself.— Through you, permit me to solicit from that Iddy her gentle pardon, anddetmo entreat you. sir, to accord me henceforth what I so idly for feited ina foolish moment, the estimation of a gentleman. 1 The sunlight of & noble soul rose and spread like the lovlicst hue of morning over the clas sic brow of Charles Percy: quick in forgive ness ns in anj??r, he stepped forward,extending bis hand to Stanford. And did the cloud here vanish from the ethe real blue, which threatened to lower so darkly over the long holiday life that rosy Love seem ed preparing for Charles and Cornelia? Wes such the lofty spirit actuating British officers :in revolutionary times? Alas! the cloud did i but fade away thinly, to gather again with lightning in its breast of darkness, and hurl more fatally its bolt of wild destruction. One superior soul will most often cast glory upon , others of meaner mould around, than those ’ others will honorably emulate tho excellence that lights them into notice. The story will ( show. *A moment, sir, before you give your hand,* said Col. Stanford. ‘lt may matter little, but I feel a desire to bo open as the day with you, and therefore am impelled to explain, that my brother officers do not sanction the course that, in opposition to their sentiments, I have adop ted in this affair. Two of them, in fact, have refused to be present here at all, and the gen tlemen with me attended reluctantly at my re quest. You will believe, sir, that nothing but an immoveable conviction of justice and pro priety in what I do, could induce me to act so directly against tho wishes of my companions in arms-’ •Col. Stanford,’ said Percy, *1 have no quar rel and I seek none with your friends. Your brave and honorable conduct has made me ra ther a petitioner for regard than a seeker after redress, and I can rejoice more in taking your hand, as a friend than your life an nn offender. Furthermore, sir. let me avow that in soliciting a deadly meeting with you. I yielded only to the exaction of a custom which in heart and reason T can never acknowledge.’ The hand of tho voung American was seized hy the young English officer, and the pledge of friendship was exchanged with equal warmth ; soon alter which the interview terminated : Stanford departing with his two friends, who liowed siiflly to Percy os they left, without having uttered a syllable. Six montits had ncarlv rolled away, and the appointed bridal day of Percy and Miss Ne ville was approaching, when one day a loiter, post-marked ‘Montreal. 1 and directed to ‘Charles Percy,’ was put into his hands. It was from Stanford-demanding, entreating, imploring, that the fatal meeting they once avoided should now (ako place! Let those who can, imagine the wonder, horror; and con s' ernation of Charles Percy! Stanford wrote (hat he was preparing •to follow his letter in stantly to Now York.. His life had been wretch ed, lie said: ho had been slighted, cut. con temptuously treated by his brother officers: society shunned him like a thing of disease.— A brand was upon him: tho Anger of scorn pointed after him. and tho shallow foplings of the day stared through their eye-glasses at the officer who had disgraced the British uniform, and Itascly apolopized to an American! a mis erable Yankee rebel! Even his family in En gland had, in correspondence, betrayed too plainly, what in pity those once kind ones en deavored awkwardly to conceal, their cruel and hlood-frcczing estrangement. Stanford wrote in phrenzy. Explanation or argument with his sneering persecutors was in vain, for they would either not listen to him.or hear him with n cold look and no reply, lie - confessed that ho trembled for his sanity, yet half felt the loss of reason would be relief from present hor ror of mirid. Growing wilder, ho owned that all his miseries clamored now around one haun ting idea; ho had lost friends, country, home, regard, affection: he was despised. Spurned, down-trodden, a solitary wretch, who could nol raise Ins eyes without meeting contempt from the proud, and more degrading pitv from tho mean; and tho young New-Yorker, Charles Percy,was the cause. Col. Stanford had left New Yor.k the day af ter his noble reconciliation with Percy, and bad remained in Canaan the whole of this intermin. Three days after his letter had been received, he arrived himself in New York, and instantly despatched a cold and formal challenge to the man for whom his heart yearned, and whom society sentenced him to hunt into tho grave as his bitterest enemy 1 Percy received tho hos tile message, and went at once to see his chal lenger in person. He thought the calm influ ence of humanity and reason, and the teaching of a higher philosophy, might bo brought to bear upon the excited mind of poor Stanford : but bis generous attempt was fruitless. Stan ford would not see him. lie wrote to the un happy officer; his letter came back unopened. Every conceivable method was tried by Percy to change the aspect of this extraordinary po sition into which Stanford had forced him, am- finding everything else fail, he at length flatly refused the challenge. It was soon clear (hat this would not avert the danger; for Stan ford threatened desperate vengeance. In some way, if ho was not mot in the manner desired, swearing that, os life was only agony to him without U, his life should be ‘devoted to the achievement of this only object: and he would fiprsuo Percy, unceasingly, until the opposi ion of their persona. lq fair .conflict, warrant ed. . So .persecuted. Charles Percy, at length,.re-- luctcntly and with a Jicnvy heart, consented to yield the unhappy man his wish: and they met one morning accompanied by their seconds, among the vtflcelcds and then seldom trodden solitudes of * Hoboken. It \vafl tho first time Percy had seen Stanford since their reconcilia tion. -Heavens! what < a change! His- fine form had dwindled to a skeleton: his checks had fallen in, and his eyes glared wildly, and with singular lusture from their deep soeketß. With a sick sensation at the heart, Percy saw at a glance that such a man was no longer to be moved by words of expostulation. Onco only, catching, tho stern and strange gaze of Stanford upon him,he advanced a step, making an imploring gesture; hut tho half-crazed British officer smiled as ho turned aw ay, and the sport of a triumphant devil was in his smile. Beneath the serenity of early day. the usual t reparations for human slaughter in an honora lo way. acccording to thc.nowrst refinements of the fashion, werit on t niid Percy took his position mechanically, with his melancholy cyo ilied tipon Stnhfbrd.nll in sorrow ond pity,and w|th-a ; fltiadeftly-rprmed presentiment of evil sinking deeply and, heavily in his heart. It would seem that hohftd nbver wholly given up tho hope of some mild termination lo this moat t unhappy affair, until ho met Stanford on the ground, marked thotorrible ravages of mental j CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL 12,1855 anguish, and saw the freezing character of the unnatural smile. He had still refused and de layed the meeting AmUi* the very day before that appointed for his innrriage, when reflection in regard to Stanford came upon him more seri ously than ever; and he flew from racking thoughts to the hasty resolution of accepting at onco thb challenge, that an end might be put in any* way to so dreadful a dilemma, rath er than carry with him. the .serpent of bitter anxiety into the paradise of Cornelia's arms. The preliminaries ‘bring arranged, the sec onds stepped aside, and the usual words were spoken; Percy never' raised his weapon, but I stood mutely with that same sorrowful, and,as it proved, prophetic gaze fixed upon the ghastly face of his transformed friend, until a dozen echoes answered the report of a pistol ; and ho fell with the ice-bolt of denih in his heart, to bo earned home on bis bridal day a corpse! Shall wo paint hero the shrieking Cornelia, in her. summer wreaths and wedding robes ? No. We will only pause fo mention the terri ble oath of Stephen Percy. He had heard that Stanford was driven to this unjust and desper ate act chiefly by the violent urgingof one man in Canada: an officer who,,with relentless cruel ty, insisted upon the blood of young Percy. Stephen knelt by his brother’s corpse, sol emnly forgave the madman Stanford.and stem- 1 ly swore if over ho met this other officer,to ren der him up a bleeding sacrifice upon the grave 1 of Charles. Poor Stanford ! Percy diet without a groan: but oh ! how wild and desolate the fate loft for his demented nuirde or. Let us hurry over eighteen moulhs.and learn the startling sequel of this story. C ONC I'D SI OS . “Percy, I’m sorry you’re come,” cxcla : mcd Lester Depeystcr, a wealthy 6o;» vuanl, taSte- 1 phen Percy, as the latter entered one evening! the principal apartment of a hotel in ancient Gotham. It was late in the evening, and De peystor sat at the head of a dimng-tahle. upon which now appeared only decanters and bottles of wine, glasseg, and such accompaniments as are usually left with guests disposed for a long silting after dinner, ft had been a birthday or some other festival, with Lester Depeystcr. and the dinner had been of his giving. A num her of his congenial friends had been invited, and Stephen Percy was among them. Other engagements had prevented the attendance of Percy in time for dinner, and he but sought the hotel in the evening to tender congratula tions to his Companion from boyhood, on the happiness of the occasion, and in glass Of gen crous wine, invoked a long continuance of friendship,.prosperity, and enjoyment. Some of the guests bad already taken their departure, while some of those remaining began to give warm evidence of having done full honor to the , hospitality of tho host. Several young men were disputing loudly and earnestly at the low er end of the table, with one who was arguing and maintaining his point alone with great de termination. Tho hour of ceremony was past, and Percy, without engaging much attention, passed in with a general bow to tho company to a seal beside Depeystcr. • 'You arc sorryTTn comc-I*-said'Stephen in a tone expressing at once astonishment and in quiry; ‘did I misunderstand you V ‘No, noreplied Depeystcr, 'that's what I said: lam very sorry you're come: but no matter: you ’re hero now. Como, let me fill for you.’ •The wine will hardly taste well without an explanation of that,’said Percy, in a marked and deliberate manner. ‘Not now, not now, 1 returned Dipcyster: •but como : it is perhaps no rnn’tr; now I cannot explain ; any other time I will. Steph en Percy, here's ‘Privateers and Merchantmen in the Battery-hollo.v !’ When you and I oan\ drink that together, let us never more shake hands.’ An enthusiastic smile broke out instantly on the faces of the two friends, and'their hands Joined in u strong grasp ns they tossed oil' the wine. The circular “hollow,” about three fact deep, and some two hundred yards in circumference, then, and until some fifteen or twenty years since, occupying one section of the Battery, was a famous piny-ground of the boys of New York. Many a young heart ached, and many an old one sighed, when the wise worthies of Gotham, those potent, grave, reverend and turtle-led gen tlemen of the City Hall, sent a detachment of town-carts to haul brick-bats and building-nib. bisb, saw-dust and oyster-shells, tund monu ments erected to oblivious street inspectors, and all the other vile superfluities of the streets, and to “dump" them into that beautiful green hol low, It was an agrarian measure, alike hateful to rich and poor among (he Juveniles. Nor was the risen generation much opposed to them in sentiment, for trial same sporting-ground nffho boys had been the courting promenade of their lathers and mothers, and every association of early mirth and dawning love, made the spot sacred to n/Toction with young and old. Thu city legislators of that period may shake In their shoos oven now, when (hoy learn that there was a desperate conspiracy on foot, and hold-spirit ed delegates with “shining morning faces,” ac tually wont (Vom school to school agitating a genera) hisuncctiun of the boys, to duck the aldermen in the Collect for tilling up the hollow In the Battery I Had there been such a facility as a fountain in the Park then, Iherq would have been a christening of the Common Council to a certainty.} and posterity would have been left In possession of one original reason for aldermen being so proverbially hollow headed. It was to ibis delightful play-ground which Depoyaler alluded In his (oast, calling to Per cy’s memory also a popular game In which (hey had often participated together, and perhaps not yet forgotten In Now York, known under tbo cogoomlnalion of •< Privateers and Merch antmen.” An hour paused away rapidly and merrily, as hours generally do when old Wends pot togeth er under such circumstances ( and tho disput ants at tho -other end of tho table, who'had been less noisy fora time, again grow heated| tho one who was most prominent before, now speak ing with open anger and violence. “TVho U that ?" Inquired Stephen Percy of Depoyator. ■« Ho was on officer In tho British army,” re plied the host} « fl long time stationed In Cana da, and just now arrived hero on a visit to this city olono,having resigned his commission. He Is a bravs follow and generous hearted too, but Quixotic and wild In sentiment. Ho lias been at loggerheads with our young countrymen there, over since ho sat down, and I fear It will end in a serious quarrel yet. 11 These words wore hardly more than uttered, when tho gentleman spoken of, raising his voice still higher, said ti one seated opposite : u Sir, you novepwas more mistaken In your life, for I toll you, wommodore Rodgtn u empha i filially n ' [ Stephen Percy hcnl forward and darted a piercing glanco at/tho speakers (hen slowly emptied hla glass/aml while Dcpeyafer was turning to converse with another, ho touched a waiter on tho shon|dor and hit the room. Tho waiter followed lilfn. “Take,this car'd to that gentleman who Is speaking loud, and say that I doalro a single moment’s conversation with him.” said Percy, ond the waiter returned lute tho dining-room. «Commodore Ilodgors Is my friend, air,” said Stephen Percy, as tho person ho sont for appearod{ *< ho is now'absent at sea. Without iftiiic ill-wilt, sir, and addressing you na a gentleman, , I moat request you to return before the com pany, and retract the osscrtlon you have Just ■ made.” “ A very modest request, air,** said tfie stran ger, ivith a provoking smile; “ and should Ibe so unreasonable as to refuse, perhaps you will challenge me V* “ You shall neither insult my friend, air, nor laugh at me,** said Percy, sternly. “ Yea,” said the stranger, taking it from his pocket,* “your name is Percy, I see,* Percy Is a good name j and you soem to be of the Hot spur family, too. You want to quarrel 7” “ I wont and will Lave justice done to a brave and honorable man, sir, and am ready to lose my own life rather than suffer any slanderous tongue to take from him one particle of his glorious reputation. assertion yon made was “Thcro, flint’!! do; !t can all be very hand somely arranged without any useless expendi ture of epithet, worthy sir. Allow me to ask you, do you rise early “Iff do not, air, I can chango a custom to snlt occasion.” “Then I think wo can agree; and without making any nolso about the matter; you Just bring a friend and meet me somewhere quietly, as soon after day-break ns you please, to-mor row morning.’* “I’ll accommodate you, sir,” said Percy; “ and your humor jumps very well with my own. I’ll have a boat ready, and wo will take a sail or a row to Governor’s Island.’* “Sir, I honor you for tho suggestion. I’m told a morning trip to that lovely spot is truly ohchating. Now, nevermind exchanging cards, but lot us go back, arm In arm, If you’ll allow mo { and we must take wine together, just for the sport of throwing these gaping young coun trymen of yours off the scent of what’s In tho wind.” And in this manner tho two engaged duelists returned to tho dining table, apparently upon the pleasantest forms that could spring from tho natural contact ol genial dispositions. Tho next morning a light boat, with a single sail swelling roundly to a Juno breeze, swept out from tho Battery-bench, over the sportive whltccaps of the bay towards Governor’s Island. Two men guided tho little vessel, while four others, of more refined appearance, with their foreheads bared to the refreshing air fVom tho ocean, sal in easy conversation, their minds ir resistibly attuned to composure by tho mellow beauty of such a morning before sunrise. “ A lovely, a very lovely bay f” said tho young stranger, whose name yet remained untold, as It was unasked. “Mr. Percy. I have looked with delight upon tho bays of Naples and of Dublin, and wuro I an American, I would swear this of New York is the most beautiful bay In the world. I will not deny, sir. that it may bo early associations, together with the other enchant ments of country and home, (so seldom analyzed while wo are so happy in them without exami nation,) which cause me to love the shores and waves of Dublin bay better than any other wave* and shores In tho world; for, sir, lam an Irish man 5 but were I born here on your Indian Is land of Mannahattnn, I would not change It for any other spot In Christendom.” Tho volatile young Irishman, actually in de fiance of the solemn business before him, broke into a song, and the eloquent words of " Erin go Bragh,” were given to the breeze that went sweeping by. i Stephen Percy was a ntfln of iron nerve and deadly skill with the pistol ,* nftda strange sen sation of weakness stole info hfs Hod heart, as ho listened to this extraordinary exposition of sentiment and cool recklessness la the. game breath. It was nothing akin to fear, which struck him, but rather a sadness, a regret for the act ho was about to engage in, as ho listen ed to his opponent’s singing : “Buried and cold, when my heart stills its motion. Green bo thy fields, sweetest Isle of tho ocean, And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion, Erin mo roumeen, Erin go bmgh !” They were soon on the island, and a few mo menta .sufficed them for preliminaries. The word was given : they ft red ; and the ball of Stephen Percy dashed through the forehead of his adversary, who fell dead without a groan. All had been secret, so little was to be gain ed. so much difficulty to be feared from expo sure, that the seconds agreed to convey the body to the city and have it interred privately, which was done, and the unhappy fate of that ill-directed young enthusiast was probably never known to his friends. Not long after, Percy happening in company with his friend Lester Depeyster. said thought lessly, 'Lester, why did yon say that evening I took wine with vou and your friends, that you wore “sorry I had come ?" You promised to explain.' ‘I will, F will ;* replied Depeyster. ‘You re member that flrcry young fellow f-otrt Canada, who was so noisy at the table ? A Strange character : very impetuous and violent ? By the way, I have not seen him since, and nobody knows what has become of him-’ *T remember,' said Percy. •Well, the moment before yon entered the room, he had been boasting that it was himself who had awakened excitement against that 001. Stanford in CamCda.and his threats.sneers and arguments had driven that officer at length, back to Now York to shoot your brother Charles.’ ‘Heaven and earth! how strange!’ mentally ejaculated .Stephen Percy. It remaimtJSrdy to be added, that the unfor lunntc Stanford, having returned to Canada with reason shattered forever, and being trans ferred by his by his relatives to a lunatic asy lum in England, ho there died about the same time that the young Irishman was shot on Gov ernor’s Island. There was a kind old maiden Indy buried a very abort time since In a New York church yard ; and there now rcnoscs the dust of one named In, this etory. twCornclla Neville. An JJditoiv’s ExPEnißKon.—Qco. D. Pren tice, of tho Journal, was recently honored with a public dinner at Memphis, fn response to a complimentary toast, ho made a very neat speech, of which the following is an extract: "I have written some bitter things of men who have since passed away from the earth.and whoso memories I rcrcrc, ond on whoso graves I could shed tears of sorrow and regret. Ah 2 when 1 look back through (ho twenty-six years of my editorial life, and think how many I onoo denounced who afterwards became my personal friends, qr proved themselves their country's friends, and how many lonceeulo- Sited and toiled for who have since turned icir hands ruthlessly and causelessly against mo—when I relied how tho most arduous and devoted services arc forgotten by those to whom they are rendered, and how often tho deepest political injuries are magnanimously forgiven by those to whom they arc done—and when I remember how many ol my political friends have striven to crush mo,and how many Democrats have gathered around mo os a band of brothers in tho days of my personal peril—l should bo guilty of an outrage on my own con* science, and on every feeling and impulse of my heart, if I were not to weed out from my na ture the partisan bitterness that ouco flourish ed there. 1 ’ - w KNOW-NOTHING CORRESPONDENCE. Editors Empire :—Enclosed yon will find a correspondence between Council No. 42, of K. N’s. and myself, in the form of charges prefer red against me, and my reply, which you will do me the favor "to publish, t request this from the fact that members of the order have reported amongst outsiders that I have been ex celled ; who, not knowing tbo reasons, may attribute it to causes that do apt exist; then* fore I think in justice to myself the whole mat ter should be laid before the public, that they mar judge of the facts for themselves. That faro now an outsider, I think there can bo but little doubt. Dayton March 2nd, 1855, Doctor J. A. Walters Dear sir you arc requested to meet at the Dayton Council hall. No. 42. to answer to charges conferred against you, on Monday evening March slh 55 at 7 O’clock P. M. as follows, Charge, Ist. for having sent spurious tickets into the Country specification for having creisvd the Name of Samuel C. Em ley and insirling the name of Jonathan Kinney with the intention of dcccving tho members of this order of violating his obligation in Elec tioneering against the ticket nominated by this order specification Pursuading a member of this order to vote for S. G. Coin who is not a member of this order saying it would be no violation of his Obliga gation that if it would their would bo thou sands that would violate them that he would not give a Dam for the whole consent that it was nothing but a Whig snake. Charge third Conspiring with W. C. Troumbour and others against this order. D. Carroll, Secretary Dattom, March sth. 1855. To the President and members of the Dayton Council No. 42 : Gentlemen Yours of the 22d inst., se cured by a green wafer, citing roe to appear before your distinguished body and answer cer tain charges there prefered against mo, was re ceived. Business, and other engagements of more consequence, render it impossible for me to appear at this lime ; and as principles found ed upon the immutable laws of right and jus tice, may prevent me from appearing before you'at any time in future, I have thought prop er, in justice to myself, as well as you, to lay before you a written communication, embody ing a reply to tho charges, as well as my posit ion in regard to the order ; and there rest the matter for your action. You charge Ist, That “I erased tho name of S. C. Emley and Inserted that of Jonathan Ken ney, with a view to deceive the order.” That f made tho alteration Is true, but that I did it to deceive, is false. You charge 2d, That I •‘persuaded a member of the order to vote for S. G. Cain, who is not a member, sayingit would not bo a violation of hisobligation.’ A number of Democrats, of the order, expressed to mo a desire to role for certain persons on tho Democratic ticket, pro* tided the/ could do so without violating their obligation. I told them, I believe invariably, that they were bound by that oath or obliga tion no further than it was supported by the Constitution of the United States, and that of the State of Ohio ; and further, that thev could vote for any person out of tho order, if they be lieved his election would subserve the Ameri can interest more than that of the candidate of the order. For the correctness of this opinion, I refer you to the obligation itself. ! As regards the closing part of the 2d charge, that I had said, that I “considered tho whole concern a Whig snake.” I might have said so. but I consider such language entirely too mild to fully express the identity of tho fact. You charge 3d, That I “had conspired with W. C. Troumbour and others against the or der,” which charge is false. I conspired with no one; whatever I have said for or against, has been said openly. That I have said but little for the order. I most readily acknowledge —to have acted otherwise would have been do ing violence to ray conscience—something I val ue «nuch more highly than secret political mid night conspiracies against conscience and liber ty • Gentlemen, when I first joined your order. I supposed the object of the association was in tended merely as a temporary expedient to check tho dishonorable means frequently re sorted to, on the part of politicians to obtain foreign voles ; but how sadly have I been dc cicved. This question of Know-Nolhlngism and its principles, ns they nro being developed from day to day, involves more of the future welfare and liberty of this country, than many I of you generally suppose. Tito framers of our govcnncnl were men who had bitterly experi enced the great tyranny and injustice of other governments—-had studied well those funda mental principles of human right and equality so necessary to happiness, and were pre-emi nently prepared to institute a government free from civil and religious Intolerance —a govern-1 ment that should receive thonpplauscofall just 1 men and become a burning light of liberty to the world—a government the justice of whose principles should make iho very thrones of Eu rope tremble, and “become tho fond hope of the oppressed of every clime.” How have they succeeded 7 The annals of ancient and modern history present no account of any government rising in power, numbers and influence Hkc I this. Our institutions giving greater freedom I and security to its people than that of any oth er, attracted (ho attention, confidence and sym pathy of the democratic masses of other coun tries, who sought our shores by thousands, periling life and fortune, that they might es cape tyranny and oppression, and enjoy civil and religious liberty. We extended to them a hcarly wclcomc —gave them (be same privileges wq enjoyed—mode (hem our friends, and they have proved true to our wisdom and generosi ty, by dcfcnding'our institutions, shoulder to shoulder with the American born citizen upon every battle-field, from tho Revolution to tho present time, and never an Arnold was found amongst them. Shall wo now labor to check this mighty cur rent of liberty and prosperity in our country, by proscribing men simply on account of the accident of birth and form of icligion, thus creating out of friends enemies in our very midst 1 And shall wc become the. willing tools of a set uf designing political demagogues,who would subvert every principle of our govern ment—let Inoso'tho wild passions ‘of religious bigotry and intolerance—drench' our country in blood, and entail upon, our children eternal sla very, that they might obtain place and power! Take from our institutions the liberty there guaranteed to religion and emigration, and you rob the government of the great secret of our I prosperity and happiness, and lay the found**, AT $2,00 PER ANNUM. NO. 44. From tht Dayton (O.) Empire. Respectfully yours. J. A. Walters. Charge second tioh'fbr aa great a tymnoy as the world '.ever knew. - -- Sholl’we then stoke bverythingthatisnetr and deaf; to us, to posterity and ,the .world, to the mandates and . infamy of a - secret political oath-bound conclave ? ' Tba Uprisings of pure patriotism, love of liberty,- and.true merican principles, say never I SbaUwawb(>. stand so proudly in odyahCo of;the rest' of tho, world in civil and religious be nqwpftK pared to rctrogade and take- to 43ur generoutt embrace even worse oppression than, unit par .revolutionary fiithera laid down their lives to expel 1 Well might, we be called “degenertte sons of noble sires,” unworthy the boon so dear*, ly purchased. .. Why should wc fear those who seek opr shores because they love liberty more than op pression, or our institutions better than r their ; own ? I call upon histoty Co bear tne, witnes£r when I say, that wehavo pever had,on obsocmk tion of forcigh-bdrn citizepk to oppose thejgbV- 1 emmeot, or take sides with the enemy ,4h rimO- • of war? Would to God we could say thesomo; of some ofour American born citizens! . _ . And why should we fear our catholic dtl* . sens, scarcely one to twenty ofour number T—•• And oven were they'five times as nutocrousi - would there beany just ground for idortnl**»‘ Have they not shown as much patriotism and' devotion to our institutions upon thb field abd‘ in the councils of the nation os any ether class of our citizens ? What new light has suddenly' sprung upon our oQrightcd visions, that- Wt , should fear this handfuu ofCatholics are about', to raise and take this country 1 If wo believe this, we are Know-Nothings in truth, and-- should carry the title in blazing letters around’ our nocks oil our lives. Gentlemen : In conclusion I would say** that* I have, I know, many personal friends of both ’ political patties in the order —honorable men*' who Joined out of curiosity, or a mistaken no*. tion of its principles; some of whom I know,' will never visit a-lodge again. Others will learn thc carcass us soon as they discover its real > rottenness, and the character of the propelling; power, as rats do a sinking ship. ■ AU now >' that holds'lkc infamy together, Is tho string desire of its leaders for office, and their appeals * to the religious prejudices of its members. 1 have now given you some of my. views Of the order, upon general principles, as well aaa ■ brief reply to the charges, and leave you at, lib erty to expel me, or draw black lines around ■ my name. But I should prefer that you would 1 beach the whole thing from your books with , oxalic acid, that there may be no traces left that I ever was a member. Ono thing tnoref Whatever I may think of the binding charac* ‘ ter of the obligation, yet I feel in honor bound; not to reveal tho names of those I know to bo members of the order. Respectfully yours, J. A. WALTERS. Dead Subscribe!!, The story below bos been going the rounds of the press for several years; and as it can load nothing by being old, wo giro it for tho benefit of non paying patrons, in tho hope that they will save us the trouble of publishing their obituaries, by making immediate payment: A long winded subscriber to a newspaper, after repeated dunnings. promised that the bill. should be paid by a certain day if he was olive. The day passed over and no money reached the office. In tho nxt number, thorcafttrof tho newspaper, the editor inserted among tho deaths a notice of his subscriber’s departure from this life. Pretty soon after the announce- • went, the subject of it appeared to the editor-^,, not with a pale and ghastly , cotffttenance usil-' ally ascribed to apparitions, nor did be wait to ‘ be spoken to, but broke silence. •’■*> •What sir, did you mean publishing my death !’ , . ■ •Why, sir,! mean what I mean when I pub lish the death of any person, viz: ■to Iti tho world know that ho is dead.’ •But I am not dead.’ •Not dead; then it is your own fault, for you told roe you would positively pay your bill by such a day if you lived to that lime. Tho day passed, the hilt Id not pftld,~BKd you posi tively must be dead; for I would not bcUerO you would forfeit your word.* •Oh. no. I see that you bare got round fiio* Mr. Editor; but say no more about it—here’i tho money. And harkee my wag, you’ll con tradict my death next week ?* I 'O, certainly, sir, lust to please yon; tho* upon my word, I c*n’t help thinking you were dead at the time specified and you bar? cone back to pay this bill on account of oar friend* ship lor me.' Beautiful. Ii cannot bo that earth is man's abiding place. It cannot bo that our life is cast up by ocean of eternity to float upon its waves and sink into nothingness. Else why is it that the glorious aspirations which leap like angels front the temple of our hearts arc forever wandering about unsatisfied ? Why is it that the rain bow and tho clouds como over with a beauty that is not of earth, and pass off to leave us to muse on their faded loveliness? Why is it thai the stars, who hold festival around the mid night throne, ore set above the grasp'of our limited faculties, forever mocking us with their unapproachable glory ? And finally, why is it that the bright forms of human beauty are pre sented to our view aud taken from us, leaving the thousand streams of our affections to flow back in Alpmo torrents 1 We ore born for It higher destiny than that of earth. There is -a ixalm where rainbows never fade,'where the. stars will be uut before us like islets that sluni-' her on the ocean, and where the beings that pass before us like shadows, will stay in our possession forever. A Snake Breaking a Man’s Rids.— > A most heart-rending transaction occurred at Madison, lud.. on Tuesday last, to a gentleman named McDonald. lie was admiring a beautiful col* lection of every description of reptiles 6b ezbK 1 bition there. lie foolishly attempted to ban* die a largo snake, which said snake coiled around his body, and, with his entire strength, succeeded in breaking three of Mr. McDonald's ribs. —Loutsttlle Dem . was you ever drunk!’ ‘Not I wai intoxicated with ardent spirits once, and dat'a ’imQ for dis darkey. Do Lord bress you, CdM- ; or. my head felt as if it was an out house; alt dc niggers in dc world appeared to bo splitting . wood in it.' [C7* Hood could never believe that undertak ers felt for tho poor. . If they do. how comes It that they arc always screwing them down. tfy* True friendship ii a plant of slow; growth and must undergo and withstand thu, shocks of adversity, before it is entitled to the appellation. * • - The industrious young ladywho walked all over London with a eon in her hand to’pro*’ cure a pint .of the milk of human kindness, ban been more successful in getting a Utile Jam out oflhcjar of a door. She got the Jam on her* "" Angers. ..... (C7*lndolcnco and indecision of mind,though not in themselves vices, frequently prepare thd way to much exquisite misery. Dkfinition.—Warren, fas Billy Laekaday) at the Museum, having spoken of "an *og (hog) and being asked what an *og is, replied: “Bless you, an *og is a pig's papa!” \CT. The fellow who broke loose, has gone into partnership with the ope that “broke the news,” and they anticipate doing a smashing business. A (C/** A fool in high station is like a tnah' on the top of a monument—everything small to him. and he appears small to every* body. • - , 0"iNo man c*n avoid hi* oWnloompanyi so ho had better it as good as pbs^bU-
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers