r
Se-r:
i
SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXVII., NUMBER 50.1
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING.
Office in Northern Central Railroad Com
pany's,Building, north-west corner Front and
qiulnut streets.
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Larger advertisements in p roportion.
A liberal discount will be made to quarterly, half
yearly or yearly advertisers,who are strictly confined
to their business.
DR. S. ARMOR,
I_IO3IEOPITHIC PHYSICIAN. Office and
Residence in Locust street, opposite the Poet
Office; OFFICE PRIVATE.
Columbia. April 25,1957.6 m
Drs. John & Rohrer,
IVE associated in the Practice of ,Pdedi•
Hciue.
Columbia, April Ist, ISSG4t
DR. G. W. MIFFLIN,
TIENTIST, Locust street, near the Post Of
lice.. Columbia, Pa.
Columbia, May 3, 1853.
11. M. NORTH,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR. AT LAW.
Columbia,Pn.
colleatons, y romptly made, in Lancaster and York
Counties.
Columbia, May 4,1950.
J. W. FISHER,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
C,Ca.:123:1201/Z,
Columbtm. September 6, tes6-tf
GEORGE J. SMITH,
WHOLESALE and Retail Bread and Cake
Baker.—Constantly on hand a variety of Cakes,
too numerous to mention• Crackers; Soda, Wine, Scroll,
and Sugar Biscuit; Confectionery, of every description,
Sr.c., Lc. LOCUST STRNFT,
Feb. 2,'50. Between the Bank and Franklin llouse.
8. F. APPOLD & CO.,
=
",".••••••
GENERAL FORWARDING AND COMMIS
ESEigiSION MERCHANTS, Ala ti,
RECEIVERS OF
COA LAND PRODUCE,
And Deliverers on any point on the Columbia and
Philadelphia Railroad. to York and
Baltimore and to Pittsburg;
DEALERS IN COAL. FLOUR AND CRAIN,
WHISKY AND BACON, have just received a
largo lot of Monongahela Rectified Whiskey, from
Pittsburg, of which they will keeps. supply constantly
on hand, at low prices, N 04.1, 2 and 6 Canal Basin,
Columbia, January 27.1654.
OATS FOR SALE
BY THE BUSHEL, or in larger quantities,
at Net. 1,2 & 6 Canal Basin.
B. F. APPOLD & CO.
Columbia, January• .20,1850
Just Received,
50 El .. ...Fri. ll gole G s ß aPe and Reta l :l g t7ol t cli j or . zer F y .
e.tablishment, Front etrem, two doom below the
Washington blouse, Columbia. [October 2.5, 1856.
Just Received,
20 MIDS. SHOULDERS, 15 TIERCES HAMS.—
For sale by B. F. APPOI.D & CO..
Nos. I, 2 and 6, Canal Basin.
Columbia, October 18, 1856.
Rapp's Gold Pens.
CONSTANTLY on hand, an assortment of
these celebrated PENS. Persons in want aft
gond article are invited to call and extunlite them.
Columbin,June 30, 1855. JOAN FELIX.
Just Received,
LARGE LOT of Children's Carriages,
Gigs, Rocking Horses, Wheelbarrows, Propel
ass, Nursery Swings, &c. GEORGE, J. Sllll7ll.
April 19, 1856. Locust street.
CmrNA and o th er Fancy Articles. too numerous to
mention, for rule by G. J. SMITH, Locust sirecL
Letween the Rank and Franklin House.
Columbia, April 10, 180.
TAHE undersigned hare been appointed
agents for the sale niCoolc & Co'n GOTTA PER-
Of PENS, warranted not to corrode; in e laslicity
they almost equal the quill.
SAYLOR & McDONALD.
Columbia Jan. 17, 1857
Just Received,
ABEAUTIFUL lot of Lamp Shades, viz: Vie
torine, Volcano, Drum. Butter Fly, Red Rosen,
and the new French Fruit Shade, which can be seen
an the window of the Golden Mortar Drug Store.
November 20,1550.
ALARCH lot of Shaker Cora, from the
Slinger settlement in New York, Juct received,
at H. SUYDAM& SON'S
Columbia, Dec. 200856.
HAIR DYE'S. Jones' Batchelor's, Peter's and
Egyptian hair dyes, warranted 'to color the hair
any desired shade, without injury to the skin. For sale
uy R. WILLrAMS.
May 10, Front st., Columbia, Pa.
FARR & THOMPSON'S justly celebrated Com
mercial and other Gold Pena—the bent in the
market—just received. I'. SHREINER.
Columbia, April 29,1855.
FXTELA FAMILY FLOUR, by the barrel, for
sale by B. F. A PPOLD & CO,
Catambia,June 7. No'. 1,2 and 2 Canal Resin.
WilY should anypersoa do without a Clock,
when they Call be had f0re.1.50 and upwards.
at SHREINER'S?
ealimibia, April 29,1855
SAPONEFIER, or Concentrated Lye, for ma
king Soap. 1 lb. la .uffieient for one barrel of
.Cott Soap, or 11b.for a lbs. 'lard Soap. Pull direr-
Awn. will be given at the Counter for making Soft.
*Card and Fancy Soaps. For sale by
R. WILLIAMS.
Columbia, March 31, t&-w'.
A .LARGE lot of Baskets, Brooms, Buckets
Brushes, &c., for sale by H. SUYDAM & SON.
WEER'S Instairtanteas Yeast or Baking
Powder, for sale by H. SUYDAM tt SON.
20DOZEN BROOMS, II) BOXES CHEESE. For
sale cheap, by 8.. F. APPOLD & CO.
Columbia, October 25, MO.
A SU I'EtIIOR article of PAlNlTettAirtrAaS.gry
May 10, 1E56. Front Su reet, Col uni bia, Po
TOW RECEIVIIII,• large and well selected variety
of Brushes. coneistina in part of Shoe, Hair, Cloth.
'Crumb, Nail, Hat and Teeth Brusher. and for *Malty
R. WILLTAms,
Front street Columbia. Pa.
March M, ,W
SUPERIOR • rtiele of TONIC SPIC E BlTTERS, Asuitable for Rotel Keepers, far sale by
R. WILLIAMS,
Front street, Colombia.
11 lay g 1,1856
VIRESH ETHEREAL OIL, always on bond. and fo
1 pale by R. WILLIAMS.
May 10,1E48. Front Street, Columbia, Pa.
TUST received, FRESH CAW it EN r.. and for rale
Al by It. WILLIAMS,
May 10,1850. Prone Street, Calwabia, Pa.
1000 LBS. New Chy Cured Home and Shoulders,
just received and for sale by
Feb. 21, U. 5C5'D.1.51 &SON.
apartily.
The Bird that sung in May.
A bird last Spring came to my window shutter
One lovely morning at the break of day;
And from his little throat did sweetly utter
A most melodious lay.
$1 50
fie had no language for his joyous passion,
No solemn measure, nor artistic rhyme;
Yet no devoted minstrel e'er did fashion
Such perfect tune and time
It seemed of thousand joys a thousand stories;
All gushing forth in one tumultuous tide;
A halleluiah for the morning glories
That bloomed on every side
And with each canticle's voluptuous ending
He sipped a dew-drop from the dripping pane;
Then heavenward his little bill extending,
Broke forth in song again
I thought to emulate Ids wild emotion,
And learn thanksgiving from his tuneful tor•gue
But human heart ne'er uttared such devotion,
Nor human lips such song.
At length be flew and leftme in my sorrow,
Lest I shouhl hear those tender notes no more;
And though I early waked for him each morrow,
He came not nigh my door
But once again, one silent summer even,
I met him hopping in the new-mown hay;
But he was mule, and looked not up to heaven—
The bird that sung in May!
Though now !bear from dawn to twilight hour
The hoarse woodpecker and the noisy Jay,
In vain I seek through leafless grove and bower,
The bird that sung in May!
And such, methinks, ore childhood's dawning pleasures,
They charm a moment and then fly away;
Through life we sigh and seek those missing treasures,
The birds that sung in 11lay.
This little lesson. them my boy, remember,
To sieze each bright whiged blessing in its Joy;
And never hope to catch in cold December
The bird that sung in May.
[Harpers Melly
grtrttilras.
[From "The Widow Rugby's Husband and oilier Sto
rief,' by the author of "Simon Suggs."]
The Widow Rugby's Husband;
A STORY Or "SUGGS."
Some ten or twelve years agonc, ono
Sumeral Dennis kept the "Union Hotel," at
the seat of justice of the county of Talla
poosa. The house took its name from the
complexion of the politics of its proprietor;
he being a true-hearted Union man, and op
posed—as I trust all my readers are—at all
points, to the damnable heresy of nullifica
tion. In consequence of the candid expo
sition of his political sentiments upon his
sign-board, mine host of the Union was lib-
erally patronized by those who coincided
with hint in his views. In those days, par
ty spirit was, in that particular locality,
exceedingly bitter and proscriptive; and had
Sumeral's chickens been less tender, his
eggs less impeachable, his coffee more
sloppy, the "Union Hotel" would still have
lost no guest—its keeper no dimes. But,
as Dennis was wont to remark, "the party
relied on his honor; and as an honest—but
more especially as an honest Union man—
he was bound to give them the value of
their money." Glorious fellow, was Sume
ral Capital landlady, was his good wife, in
all the plenitude of her embonpoint! Well
behaved children, too, were Sumeral's—
from the shaggy and red-headed represen
tative of paternal peculiarities, down to lit
tle Solomon of the sable locks, whose "fa
vor" puzzled the neighbors, and set at defi
ance all known physiological principles.—
Good people, all, were the Dennises! May
a hungry man never fall among worse!
Among the political friends who had for
some years bestowed their patronage, semi
annually, during Court week, upon the
proprietor of the "Union," was captain Si
mon Suggs, whose deeds of valor and of
strategy arc not unknown to the public.—
The captain had "put up" with our friend
Sumeral, time and again—had puffed the
"Union," both "before the face and behind
the back" of its owner, until it seemed a
miniature of the microcosm that bears the
name of Astor—and, in short, was so gene
rally useful, accommodating, and polite,
that nothing short of long-continued and
oft-repeated failures to settle his bills, could
have induced Sumeral to consider Suggs in
other light than as the best friend of the
"Union" or any other house ever had. But
alas! Captain Suggs had, from one occasion
to another, upon excuses the most plausi
ble, and with protestations of regret the
most profound, invariably left the fat larder
and warm beds of the Union without leav
ing behind the slightest pecuniary remuner
ation with Sumeral. For a long time the
patient innkeeper bore the imposition with
a patience that indicated some hope of
eventual payment. But year in and year
out, and the money did not come. Mrs.
Dennis at length spoke out, and argued the
necessity of a tavern-keeper's collecting his
dues, if he was disposed to do justice to
himself and family.
• "Suggs is a nice man in his talk," she
said. "Nobody can fault him, as far as
that's concerned; but smooth talk never
paid for flour and bacon;" and so she re
commended to her leaner half that the "next
time" summary measures should be adopted
to secure the amount in which the captain
was indebted to the "Union Hotel."
Sumeral determined that his wife's ad
vice should be strictly renewed; for he had
seen, time and again, that her suggestions
had been the salvation of the establishment
"Hadn't she kept him rim pitehin' John
Seagrooves, neck and.heels, oat of the win
dow, for sayin' that nullification itura't
treason, and John C. Calhoun carpet as bad
as Benedict Arnold! And hadn't John been
a good pavin' customer over since? That
"NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING."
COLUAIBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE 20, 1857.
was what he wanted to know!"
The next session of the Circuit Court, af
ter this prudent conclusion had been arrived
at in Dennis's mind—the Circuit Court,
with all its attractions of criminal trials,
poker-playing lawyers, political caucuses
and possible monkey-shows—found Captain
Suggs snugly housed at the "Union."—
Time passed on swiftly for a week. The
judge was a hearty, liquor-loving fellow,
and lent the captain ten dollars, "on sight."
The Wetumpka and Montgomery lawyers
bled fl•eely. In short everything went
bravely on for the captain, until a man
with small-pox pits and a faro-box came
along. The captain yielded to the tempta
tion—yielded, with a presentiment on his
mind that ho should be "slain." The "ti
ger" was triumphant, and Sugga was left
without a dollar!
As if to give intensity to his distress, on
the morning after his losses at the faro
bank, the friendly Clerk of the Court hinted
to Suggs, that the Grand Jury had found
an indictment against him for gaming.—
Hero was a dilemma! Not only out of
funds, but obliged to decamp, before the
adjournment of Court!—obliged to lose all
opportunity of redeeming his "fallen for
tunes," by further plucking the greenhorns
in attendance.
"This here," said Simon, "is h—l! 11-1!
a mile and a quarter square, and fenced in
all round! What's a reasonable man to do?
Ain't I been workin' and strivin' all for the
best? Ain't I done my duty? Cuss that
mahogany box? I wish the man that started
it had had his head sawed off with a cross
cut, just afore he thought on't! Now thar's
sense in short cards. All's fair, and cheat
and cheat alike is the order; and the long
est pole knocks down the persimmon! But
whar's•the reason in one of your d—d boxes,
full of springs and the like, and the better
no advantages, except now and then when
ho kin kick up a squabble, and the dealer's
afeard of him!
"I'm for dein' things on the squar.—
What's a man without his honor? Ef natur
give me a. gift to beat a feller at 'old sledge'
and the like, it's all right! But whar's the
justice in a thing like farrer, that ain't got
but one side! It's strange what a honin' I
have for the cussed thing! No matter how
I make an honest rise, I'm sure to 'buck it
off' at farrer. As my wife says, farrer's
my besctlin' sin. It's a weakness—a soft
spot—it's—a—a—let me see!—it's a way
I've got of a runnin' agin Providence! But
hello! here's Dennis."
When the inn-keeper walked up, Captain
Suggs remarked to him, that thero was a
"little paper out, signed by Tom Garrett, in
his qificial capacity, that was calculated to
hurt feeling," if he remained in town; and
so he desired that his horse might be saddled
and brought out.
Sumeral replied to this by presenting to
the captain a slip of paper containing en
tries of many charges against Suggs, and
in favor of the Union Hotel.
"All right," said Suggs; "I'll be over in
a couple of weeks, and settle."
"Can't wait; want money to buy provi
sions; account been standing two years;
thirty-one dollars and fifty cents is money,
these days," said Dennis, with unusual
firmness.
"Blast your ugly face," vociferated Suggs,
"I'll give you my note! that's enough amongst
gentlemen, I suppose."
"Hardly," returned the inn-keeper, "hard
ly: we want the cash; your note ain't worth
the trouble of writin' it."
"D—n you!" roared Suggs; "d—n you
for a biscuit-headed nullifier! I'll give you a
mortgage on the best half section of land in
the country; south half of 13, 21, 29!"
"Captain Suggs," said Dennis, drawing
off his coat, "you've called me a nullifier,
and that's what I won't stand from no man!
Strip, and I'll whip as much dog out of you
as 'ill make a full pack of hounds! You
swindlin' robber!"
This hostile demonstration alarmed the
captain, and he set in to soothe his angry
landlord.
"Sum, old fell" he said, in his most honey
ed tones: "Sum, old fell he easy. I'm not
a fightin' man"—and here Suggs drew him
self up with dignity; "I'm not a fightin'
man, except in the cause of my country!—
Thar I'm alters found! Come old fellow—
do you reckon of you'd been a nullifier,
I'd ever been ketched at your house! No,
no! You ain't no part of a nullifier, but
you are reether hard down on your Union
friends that allers puts up with you. Say,
won't you take that mortgage—the land's
richly worth sl,ooo—and let me have old
Bill?"
The heart of Dennis was melted at the
appeal thus made. It was to his good fel
lowship and his party feelings. So, putting
on his coat, he remarked, that he "rather
thought he would take the mortgage.—
"However," ho added, seeing Mrs. Dennis
standing at the door of the tavern watching
his proceedings, "he would see his wife
about it."
The captain and Dennis approached the
landlady of the Union, and made known
the state of the case.
"You Bee, cousin Betsey"—Suggs always
confined any lady whom he wished to cozen
—"you see, cousin Betsey, the fact is, I'm
down, just now, in the way of money, and
you and Sumeral bein' afraid I'll run away
And never come back—"
"'Taint that Pm afraid of," said Mrs.
Dennis.
"What then?" asked Suggs
"Of your comin' back, eatin' us out o'
house and home, and never payin' vs nothin'."
"Well," said the Captain, slightly con
fused at the laday's directness; "well, scein'
that's the way the mule kicks, as I was
sayin', I proposed to Sum here, as long as
him and you distrusts an old Union friend
that's stuck to your house like a tick, even
when the red-mouthed nullifiers swore you
was feedin' us soap-tails on bull-beef and
blue collards—l say, as long as that's the
case, I propose to give you a mortgage on
the south half of 21, 13, 29. It's the best
half section in the country,- and it's worth
forty times the amount of your bill."
"It looks like that ought- to do," said
Sumeral, who was grateful to the captain
for defending his house against the slanders
of the nullifiers; and "seein' that Suggs has
always patronized the Union and voted the
?lade ticket—"
"Never split in my life," dropped in
Suggo, with emphasis.
"I," continued Dennis, "am for takin' the
mortgage and lettin' him take old Bill and
go; for I know it would be a satisfaction to
the nullifiers to have him put in jail."
"Yes," quoth the captain, sighing, "I'm
about to be tuk up and made a martyr of,
on account of the Union, but I'll die true
to my prinsipples, d—d if I don't.
"They shan't take you," said Dennis, his
long lank form stiffening with energy as he
spoke; "as long as they put it on that hook,
d—d of they shall! Give us the mortgage
and slope!"
"Thar's a true•hearted Union man," ex
claimed Suggs, "that's not got a drop of
pizen of treason in his veins!".
"You ain't got no rights to that land . .
I jist know it—or you wouldn't want to
mortgage it for a tavern bill," shouted Mrs.
Dennis; "and I tell you and Sumeral both,
that old Bill don't go out of that stable till
the money's paid—mind I say- money—into
my hand;" and here the good lady turned
off and called Bob, the stable boy, to bring
her the stable key.
The Captain and Sumeral looked - at each
other like two chidden school-boys. It was
clear that no terms short of paynient in
money would satisfy Mrs. Dennis: - Suggs
saw that Dennis had become interested in
his behalf; so, acting upon the idea, lie sug
gested:
"Dennis, supposeyou lend ine-theimoney?"
"Egad, Suggs, I've been thinking of that;
but as I have only a fifty dollar bill, and
my wife's key Lein' turned on that, there's
no chance. D—n it, I'm sorry for you."
"Well the Lord'll purvide," said Suggs.
As Captain Suggs could not get away that
day, evidently, he arranged, through his
friend Sumeral, with the Clerk not to issue
a capias until the next afternoon. Having
done this, he cast around for some way of
raising the wind; but the fates were against
him; and at eleven o'clock that night, he
went to bed in a fit of the blues that three
pints of whiskey had failed to dissipate.
An hour or two after the Captain had got
between his sheets, and after every one
else was asleep, he heard some one walk
unsteadily, but still softly, up stairs. An
occasional hiccup told that it was some fel
low drunk; and this was confirmed by a
heavy fall which the unfortunate took as
soon as, leaving the railing, he attempted
to travel suis pedilats.
"Oh, good Lord!" groaned the fallen man;
"who'd a-thought it! Mc, John P...Pullum,
drunk and fain' down! I never was so be
fore. The world's a•turuin' over—and—
over! Oh, Lord!—Charley Stone got me
into it! What will Sally say of she hears
it—oh, Lord!"
"That thar feller," said the Captain to
himself, "is the victim of vice! I wonder
of he's got any money?" and the Captain
continued his soliloquy inaudably.
Poor Mr. Pullum, after much tumbling
about and sundry repetitions of his fall, at
length contrived to get into bed, in a room
adjoining that occupied by the Captain, and
only separated from it by a thin partition.
The sickening effects of his debauch increas
ed, and the dreadful nausea was likely to
cause him to make both a "clean breast"
and a clean stomach.
"I'm very—very—oh, Lordl—drunk! Oh,
me, is this John P. Pnllum that—good
heavens! I'll faint—married Sally Rugby!
—oh! oh!"
Here the poor fellow got out of bed, and,
poking his head through a vacant square,
in the window-sash, began his ejaculations
of supper and of grief.
"Ah! I'm so weak!—wouldn't have Sally
—am—etch—who—oh, Lord!—to hear of it
for a hundred dollars. She said—it's comin'
agin—awh—ogh—who—o—o - gracious Lord
how sick!—she said when she agreed for
me to sell the cotton, I'd be certain—oh,
Lord, I believe I'll die!"
The inebriate fell back on his bed, almost
fainting, and Captain Suggs thought he'd
try an experiment.
Disguising his voice, With his mouth close
to the partition, he said:
"You're a liar! you didn't marry Widow
Rugby; you're some d—d thief tryin' to
pass off for something!"
"Who am I then, if I ain't John P. Pul
lum that married the widow, Sally Rugby,
Tom Rugby's widow, old Bill Steprm's only
daughter? Oh, Lord, if it ain't me, who is
it? Where's Charley Stone—can't he tell
if it's John P. Pullem?"
"No, it ain't you, you lyin' swindler—
yott ain't got a dollar in the wotid—and
never married no rich widow," said Suggs,
still disguising his voice.
"I did—l'll be d—d of I didn't—l know
it now: Sally Rugby with the red head—
all of the boys said I married her for her
money, but it's a—oh, Lord, I'm sick again
—augh!"
Mr. Pullum continued his maudlin talk,
half asleep, half awake, for some time; and
all the while Captain Suggs was analyzing
the man—conjecturing his precise circum
stances—his family relations—the proba
ble state of his purse, and the like.
"It's a plain case," he mused, "that this
feller married a red-headed widow for her
money—no man ever married sich for any
thing else. It's plain agin, she's got the
property settled upon her, or fixed some
way, for he talked about her 'agreein' for
him to sell the cotton. Pllbet he's the new
feller that's dropped in down thar by Tab
lassee, that Charley Stone used to know.—
And I'll bet he's been down to Wetumpky
to sell the cotton—got on a bust thar—and
now's on another here. He's afraid of his
wife, too; leastways, his voice trembled like
it, when he called her red-headed, Pullen': ;
Pullum! Pull-um!" Here Suggs studied—
" That's surely a Talbot county name—l'll
ventur' on it, any how."
Having reached a conclusion, the Cap
tain turned over in bed, and composed him
self to sleep.
At nine o'clock the next morning, the
bar-room of the Union contained only Den
nis and our friend the Captain. Breakfast
was over, and the most of the temporary
occupants of the tavern were on the public
square. Captain Suggs was watching for
Mr. Pullum, who had not yet come down to
breakfast.
At length an uncertain step was heard
on the stairway, and a young man, whose
face showed indisputable evidence of a
frolic on the previous night, descended.—
llis eyes were bloodshot; and his expression
was a mingled one of shame and fear.
Captain Suggs walked up to him, as lie
entered the bar-room, gazed at his face ear
nestly, and, slowly placing his hand on his
shoulder, as slowly, and with a stern ex
pression, said:
"You r—name—is—Pullurn:"
"I know it is," said the young man.
"Come this way, then," said Suggs, pull
ing his victim. out into the street, and still
gazing at him with the look of a stern but
affectionate parent. Turning to Dennis, as
they went out, ho said: "Have a cup of cof
fee ready for this young man in fifteen
minutes, and his horse by the time he's done
drinking itd"
Mr. Pull= looked confounded, but said
nothing, and ho and the Captain walked
over to a vacant blacksmith shop, across
the street, where they could be free from
observation.
"You're from Wetumpky last," remarked
Suggs, with severity, and as if his words
charged a crime.
"What if I am?" replied Pullum, with an
effort to appear bold.
"What's cotton worth?" asked the Cap
tain, with an almost imperceptible wink.
Pullum turned white, and stammered
out:
"Seven or eight cents."
"Which will you tell your wife you sold
yours—hers—fur?"
John P. turned blue in the face!
"What do you know about my wife?"
he asked.
"Never mind about that—was you in the
habit of gettin' drunk before you left Tal
bot county, Ceorg,y?"
"I never lived in Talbot; I was born and
raised in Harris," said Pullum, with some
thing like triumph.
"Close to the line though," rejoined
Suggs, confidently, relying on the fact that
there was a large family of Pullums in Tal
bot; "most of youi connexions lived in Tal
bot."
"Well, what of all that?" asked Pullum,
with impatience; what is it to you whar I
come from, or whar my connexion lived?"
"Never mind—l'll show you—no man
that married Billy Stearns's daughter can
carry on the way you're been doin', without
my interferin' for the in t'rust of the family!"
Suggs said this with an earnestness, a
sternness, that completely vanquished Pul
lum. He tremulously asked:
"How did you know that I married
Stearns's daughter?"
"That's a fact 'most anybody could a
known that was intimate with the family in
old times. You'd better ask how I knowed
that you tuk your wift's cotton to Wetump
ky—sold it—got on a spree—after Sally give
you a caution too—and then come by here
—got on another spree. What do you reckon
Sally will say to you when you git home?"
"She won't know it," replied Pullum,
"unless somebody tells her."
"Somebody will tell her," said Suggs;
"i'm going home with you as soon as you've
had breakfast. My poor Sally Rugby shall
not be trampled on in this way. I've only
got to borrow fifty dollars from some of the
boys to make out a couple of thousand I
need to make the last payment on my land.
So go over and eat your breakfast, quick."
"For God's sake, sir, don't tell Sally
about it; you don't know how unreasonable
she is."
Pullum as the incarnation of misery.
"The devil I don't! She bit this piece out
of my face"—here Suggs pointed to a scar
on his cheek—"when I bad her on my lap,
a little girl only five years old. She was
always game."
Pullum grew more nervous at this refer
ence to his wife's mettle.
$1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE
"My dear sir, I don't even know your
name—"
"Suggs, sir, Capt. Simon Suggq."
"Well, my dear Captain, of you'll jilt let
me off this time, l'll lend you the fifty dol
lars."
"You'll—lend—me—thc--fifiy—doltars!—
Who asked you for your money—or rather
Sally's money?"
"I only thought," replied the bumble
husband of Sally, "that it might be an ac
commodation. 1 meant no harm ; I know
Sally wouldn't mind nay lending it to an
old friend of the family."
"Well." said Suggs, and here he mused,
shutting his eyes, biting his lips, and talk
ing very slowly, "ef I knowed you would
do better."
"I'll swear I will," said Pullum.
"No swearin', sir:" roared Suggs, with a
dreadful frown, "no swearin' in my pres
ence:"
"No, sir, I won't any more."
"Ef," continued the Captain, "I knowed
you'd do better—go right home"--(the Cap
tain didn't wish Pullum to stay where his
stock of information might be increased)—
and treat Sally like a wife all the rest of
your days, I might, may be, borrow the
fifty, (stein' it's Sally's any way,) and let
you off this time."
"Ef you will, Captain Suggs, I'll never
forget you—l'll think of you all the days of
my life."
"I ginnally makes my mark, so that I'm
hard to forget," said the Captain, iruthfung.
"Well, turn me over a fifty for a couple of
months, and go home."
Mr. Pullum handed the money to Suggs,
who seemed to receive it reluctantly. Ile
twisted the bill in kis fingers, and remarked:
"I reckon I'd better not take this money
—you won't go home, and do as you said."
"Yes, I will," said Pullum; "yonder's
my horse at the door—l'll start this minute."
The Captain and Pullum returned to the
tavern, where the latter swallowed the cof
fee and paid his bill.
As the young man mounted his horse,
Suggs took him affectionately by the hand—
" John," said he, "go home, give my love
to cousin Sally, and kiss her for me. Try
and do better, John, for the futile; .and if
you have any children, John, bring 'em-up
in the way of the Lord. Good byl"
Captain Suggs now paid his bill, and had
a balance on hand. He immediately be
strode his faithful "Bill," musing thus as
he moved homeward:
"Every day I git more insight into scrip
tur'. It used to be I couldn't understand
the manna in the wilderness, and the ra
vens feedin' Elishy; now, it's clear to my
eyes. Trust in Providence—that's the ]ick!
Here was I in the wilderness, sorely op
pressed, and mighty nigh despar. Pullmn
come to me, like a 'raven,' in my distress—
and a fat one at that! Well, as I've idlers
said, Honesty and Providence will never
fail to fetch a man out! Jist give me that
for a hand, and I'll 'stand agin all creation!"
The Social Tread Mill
NO. W.
Puseg—"Of Dinners, public and pri
vate, family and festive, potluck and cere
monious, on ones' own mahogany, or in a
Greenwich or Richmond hotel, what sufferer
but has most painful experiences? This
meal intended as it is for our solace and
sustentation, has somehow been erected into
the engine of some of our heaviest social
tortures. Indeed so many recollections of
suffering—in palate, stomach,spirits, purse,
temper—crowd upon me with the word
'dinner,' that I feel an embarrassment of
bitternesses. I am puzzle Sin what order to
marshall my black bill-of-fare—how to ar
range its entrees—to say which of all its
monstrous grievances ought to figure as
pieces de resistance—to usher in the entre
mets of annoyance, the hors d'muvres of
wrong, so as to give each its' due value—to
set out and garnish the sours which do duty
for its sweets, the unmerited oppressions
which may stand fur its dessert, so that
nothing may be lust of their acrid and irri:
tating flavor.
"The public dinner—you will perhaps
say—is the heavier infliction; but then the
private dinner is of most frequent recur
rence. If, as I admit, the festive moat bears
off the palm for wearisomeness, the family
repast is the more meagre and monotonous.
Who shall strike the balance between the
discomfort of pot-luck and the pretentious
ness of the set entertainment? Who shall
accurately weigh his anxiety, who invites
his friends to his own house, against the
penalties of him who asks his acquain
tance to a spread at the Trafalgar, or the
Star and Garter?
"Take thee as we will, dinner, thou art a
bitter draught? Whether I encounter thee
upon Washing days, under the mean misery
of cold shoulder, or at the festal seasons of
the year, behind the monotonous mask of
boiled fowl and saddle of mutton—whether
thou lurkest in the stale soup and flaccid
salmon of the Freemason's Tavern, or
strikest chill into my soul over the starched
white neckcloths ofßelgrartia--whether thou
leapest forth on me unawares from the am
bush of an unceremonious invitation, or of
forest me up, a solemn sacrifice, in the lin
gering agonies of a fortnight notice—what
ever the figure, form, fashion of the Dinner
torture, I do hereby denounce it, and call
on all my fellow sufferers to aid me in put
ting it downl We no longer press criminals
to death in Newgate, if they refuse to plead:
the rack has been chopped up and burnt for
[WHOLE NUMBER, 1,403.
firewood long ago: the pillory has been die
discarded as brutal: even whipping at the
cart's tail has been put down as too savage
a punishment. And yet—inconsistent be
ings that we are—we keep up the dinner
torture in full vigor! It was never more se
verely and sternly inflicted than now—in
this soft-hearted nineteenth century, which
coddles its criminals., beweeps its burglars.
and tends its ticket-of-leave men with
more than parental tenderness. These men
have offended against the laws. But what
have Ire done to deQerve dinners?
But I would not be misunderstood. It is
not that I have any objection to dinner in
the abstract—to dinner a= a part of the st
eial economy. Quite the contrary. Few'
persons more hig,hly respect the meal, or are
more grateful for a good one than I am.—
I complain of dinner, not as it might, could, •
or should be, but as it is—as we have made
it. A cruel ingenuity has been shown in
perverting into a weariness and an oppre.-
sion an institution that might be eminently
pleasant and profitable: indeed, which pinst
be eminently pleasant and profitable, when
properly under toad, and set about in a ge
nial, honest, unpretending, unselfish spirit.
My readers mrt.t bear in mind that I am
writing neither fur the cream of the cream
of society, nor for the dregs of the dregs.—
My shafts arc aimed neither at Ilia Grace
the Duke of Beaumanoir, nor at Bill the
Costermonger. I eschew alike the stately
family-mansions of Grosvenor Square and
the squalid tenements of Drury Lane. I sail
in the great Mediterranean—the middle sea.
I appeal to the sympathies of that vast class
which touches the House of Peers by its up
per strata, and includes the Trade Directory
in its lower—of that enormous body of ray
fellow-citizens to whose daily life state and
splendor, profuse expenditure, and large es
tablishments are unfamiliar—the great bulk
of whom rarely soar above a single footman,
with perhaps a satellite in buttons; and who,
if they rise beyond the humble cab or politer
fly, stop for the most part at the modest
Brougham or cozytlarence; rarely affecting
the cumbrous chariot, or the formidable fam
ily-coach: To this order I am proud to be
long, and in this wide zone, with occasional
glimpses into the stately region of aristocrat
ic state" above ate, hind the too squalid do
main of hard-labor and poverty below, my
experiences—dinner and other—have been
gathered.
"They have been as various as painful.—
Bad dinners assume so many forms. Take
our family dinners, for example. These, as
a rule are made miserable from culpable
carelessness, and neglect of Heaven's good
gifts, which would be insolent, if' it were not
so ignorant. 0 young women of England.
if you but knew how much depends on din
ners! I ant inclined, sometimes, to think
that the pivot on which the fortunes of home
happiness hang, is planted in the centre of
the dining-table. Do not imagine me that
most odious of human creatures in female
eyes—an epiure. 1 ant none, I protest, un
less it be according to the sailor's interpreta
tion of the word, 'a beggar that can eat any
thing.' I have an excellent and most ac
commodating, appetite. I can be happy
with a leg of mutton, I am thankful to sny.
Nay, I ant that domestic pearl beyond price
—A MAN WHO LIKES COLD MUTTON!
Be composed, ladies! Do not rush to each
other's polls. Let your pretty caps remain
unpulled for me. lAM married.
'But while I avow myself content with a
leg of mufti - n . 1;1 must insist on it that the
mutton shall be good mutton, and that it
shall he done to a turn. I say, I have a right
to insist on this. Being, as I am, endowed
with an apparatus of palate, tongue, faucos,
most cunningly constructed to apprehend,
retain, and distinguish flavors—with a nerve
fibruncic, probably, for every distinct im
pression of taste which r am destined to re
ceive in my whole life-1 think it nothing
less than a religious duty to keep this ma
chinery agreeably and delicately employed.
I am bound to cultic lbc my gustatory
as 1 am my o , :thetic--in the same manner
if not in the same degree. On the came
principle that I refuse to condemn the latter
to a diet of maestro Cresc?nte's music, or
a course of the c,dossal pictures of Sprawl,
of the 'Brithh Articts,' or of the miniature
niascries of Minnikin—Associate that is,
Academician that hopes to be—l ol t ject to
condemn my gustatory organs to Newgate
market Saturday night mutton, or to Hun
gerford market Sunday morning. fish; or.
be my mutton and fish of the best, to the
former being under or over done. or the lat
ter half boiled, or fried in bad oil over a
slow fire.
"I fearlessly assert, that while to e have a
choice of good or bad viands, so long as
there is a distinction between good cooking
ing and bad—be the meat of the simplest
and the cooking of the plainest—it is abso
lute guilt in a wife to be careless which she
gives her husband, positive sin in a husband
to be indifferent which is provided by hig
wife. I would have young men brought up
in this conviction—in a respect for the in
stitution of dinner—in a reverence for the
art of cooking--in a practical warfare
against the doctrine that 'God sends meat.
and devil sends cooks.' I grieve to say that
this part of female education, so far as I can
ascertain, is now utterly neglected. It was
not always so. Our great-grandmothers
were early initiated into the culinary mys
teries. Witness those family receipt books
—arcana of ancient kitchen lore—laborious
ly compiled, reverently studied in the parlor
and the hall, and only communicated to the