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11323
.:SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXXI, NUMBER 16.1
:PUBLISHED BEERY SATURDiTIORNISG
QA T in Carpet Nall, Noramsesteorner v c.
3 , Fiant and Locust streets.
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.are Copyitmirmtattcn.rT putout advance.
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year.
Clcmt.tsms 4121csizrp".
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almeearage tt re paid,unleet•ut the option o (the pub
isher.
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er, a risk.
Rates of Advertising.
aquar.(6l ineelone week,
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il.argericlverti.ement,An proportion
•. AliberailiAeountwillire - mad e to quarterly,halr
earlyfiri•mrlyulvertisers,who are etrietilvonfined
the,, •
DR. HOFFER,
DENTIST. --OFFICE, Front Street 4th 'door
trots Locust. over -laylor dr. Mctionald'e Hook store
C°l"a"... Pa. ID'Eatrance, swats a- Jolley'. Pho
tograph Gallery. (August 21, 1858.
- -
THOMAS WELSII.
TIJSTICE OF THE PEACE, Columbia, Pa.
ay 08'81.7E. in WlMmer's New Building, below
Black's Betel, Prom street.
20 E - Prompt attention given to all business entrusted
November 28, 1857.
U. M. NORTH,
A TTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR •AT LA'
I'l4l la lat IA .Pa
C. 11 " , ":. 4 romptly made A rit La ticautr itt) YOl4
mw Ur..
Columbia, May 4, I P. 50.
J. W: FISFIER,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
c7403_,31.332atack,,,
- Colmam September 6, 1e56-1(
S. Atlee Bockins, D. D. S.
RACTICES the Operative; Su rg Ica! and hieeliA'n
iral Prpnrlments orDemistry:
vrrurg I.oru.i street, betwern be Franklin Lloui:e
and I'o, Office. Columbia, Pa
May 7 1:45D.
Harrison's Conmbian Ink
47111C11 i, n .limerior article. permanentlw black,
VT and not corroding the pan, ran he Mid in any
..dasnity.at the Family *tore, and blacker
et is Mitt Engl ish Boot Polish.
Columbia. June 9, 1859
We-Have Just Received
T)R. CUTTER'S Improved Chest Expanding
s:uv.pender owl Shoulder Brucei for Gentlemen,
owl Patent Skirt Supporter wind Bruce for Lndies,
Just the oracle that is wonted at this time. Come
.nod nee them of Family Medicine tstore, Odd re:lowo`
[April 9. Itis9
Prof. Gardner's Soap
U7' hove the New Englund Sonrifor those who did
not *hum it from the Soup Mon; it ig plerwant
to the nkin. and will take greiwe city:, limn Woolen
Good., it io ilterefore no humbug.. for you get the
worth of your money or the Family Medicine Store.
Columbia, June It, 1659.
,aRAIIAM, or, Bond's Boston Crackers, for
Dy-orittic4, laid Arrow Root Crocker, for in
vittiel. mat •luldrru—nrw articles ill Columbia, at
'Ow Family Medicine Store,
April Itl. Is,f)
NEW CROP gEEDLESS RAISINS.
'T,, E Intel for --11.fn•sh +apply at
II , z1:1 . 1 1 A
Ornery Store, Corner rivtil.ittu (Mum 01$
'Nov. 19.
- SHAKER CORN
JUST recei +ed. a tie-i ran- lot of ..bnlter eon,.
II tq..TVDA NI'S
2 ( l l . 7 . r .s e g ry Store, corner Pruitt and Unseat t -t.
'c,„ I ,PALDING'S PREPARED CLUE.--The wanl of
•uell I. l.•II 11l ever) i.olony. Il MI 1/014
elm be nupplu•d: for tie ,ding ommere. done
nw.re, otos 1111 l •loul work. I0)•0 ther.• I- nolloog
•eupell..a We have found it u.eful in apaitom
w•bleh have bee. u-elts , fur mend:•. You
hlll grill It ill the
ta.ohnA! sTonE.
IRON Aram STEEL !
TIME Subwribere enve received U New a. d !dirge
1 Stock of oil kiwi. nod
. . _
BAR IRON AND STEEL !
They urn constantly suppled with -fork ut this brannli
of his liminess. and can to.tkh tt to eusontur...,, large
or ennui/ quantities, at the lowest rotes
J. RUMPLE &
Inemo street below *Lmm!. Columbia Pa.
pril 29. 'Kin.
ARTLiT'S COLORS. A general assortment
. of rotor, in tubes- Also. n variety of Aril=
17. uthe•. ma the Gold., Arnrinr Drug...tore. [July
RITTER'S Compound Syrup of Tar and
JAI Wild Cherry, for %%ought, Cold,. &e. For tate n
jrl GoldCll MOM.' Ikur,Stoore. Front en. puly2
YEWS Compound Concentrated Extract
Suromorillu tor Mr curt of St•rnfuln or Kalg',
and a' I -crofvinu• ntrreliow,. u frr•fi arlielejwit
received ul.O for omit. by
IL WILLIAMS, From et , Columbia,
24 IRO
FOR SALE.
QOOGROSS Friction Matches, very low for cash.
bum IL IN I lAA ANIS,
DRIED FRUIT.
poEt. Dried I , ruit—Arodes, P L eclig., Cheerier, &e.,—
.0 We beet in the rnarlcet, go to 11 It DA APS
Grocery P. tore, Cower From nod Union era.
Dutch Herring!
1i N 7 one fond of good ilerrme, coo be marooned at
F 1;13F.R1 Ail VS
Nov. 10. 1850. Grocery Store, No. 7L LocuPt
LY"'S FORE 01110 C4TAWBA BRANDY
and PUNE WIN by ccpectuPy lot Itiedsemes
ad Sacramental purpocec, nt the
7an.:L9 CINILY MEDICI NN STORE.
MICR RAISINS for 8 cts. per pound, are to
be heal emir al
EUERLETN'S Grocery Store,
Timm), to IFGO. No. '7l Locum inreet
6_IIIIDEN SElM—Fresh Garden- Seeds,. war
rtuzird ram r of all a:toll...id*. recanted al
I:BERLEIN I SN ta
rocerr,Sre,
.parobAll.ll9oo. N 0.71. Loma4l. 'area'.
- i .fpcur 119())1§ AND PURSgS.
11 sod 1 ";
at Trruie .Cihnntstold'otoit..e...l
eaett
Ht Idquarters and News Depot.
Colombia. April /
A more of. beautiful Prints
xica. len, which will be fold che.p, at
SAYLOR t McDONALENS
Columbia. Pa.
April 14
Zest Received sad For Sale.
snn . SACHS Ground Alum Salt, is large
vu or smsU quantities, at
A PrOLD'S
Waretroam. Canal Basin.
MarS,VO.
COLD CIRO OF GLYCEIONS.—For the rare
and pheyention fn chepped handa, &c. For imle
at the GOLDEN MORTAR DRUG STORE,
D0e..2,180. Front !MCI. Colatabia.
Turkish - Prams!
FOR a lira rate articled Prunes you moot ao to
S. F. EBERLEIN'S
Store. No 71 bacon St
Nov-10, MSC Groe
GOLD. PENS, GOLD PENS.
JUST received a large and fine *averment of Gold
P-n.. of Memnon and Griswold'a manufacture, al
VLDR McDONa LUZ Book Siore.
2Laril 14 Front vim t. above lore-i.
FRESH GROCERIES .
E rryntitioe to veil Mr be. l. 4.4nry",Errur• White
and Wow* t r ogarA.good Eaffeell sod chows Tel..
to he tad In Colombia at the New Corner Mote. op
posite DOA IN Rowe Halt, and at the old .Ipm, Nelicom.
the 11. C. FONDEMS3IIIII.
lottrg.
A Forced Recruit at. Solferino.
BY KLIZAIINIII HARR= lI)VIWNING
el 30
In the mkt of the Atnti iall you found Lim;
He died with his face to you all:
Yet bury h:m here where uround him
You honor your bravest that full.
Venetian, cuir featured and slender,
Ile lien rhos to denthlis his youth.
With a smile on Ilia lips, over tender
For any mere soldier'e dead mouth
No ,•traogor, and yet not a traitor!
Though alien the cloth out his breast,
thsdetneuth it how 'Odom a greater
Yeangheart, has a shot rent 10 441.4!
gy your enrmy Tortured and goaded
To march with them, stand in their file,
His musket (see!) never wa• loaded—
He facing your guns with chat smile.
As orphan', yearn on to their mother,
He yearned to sour patriot hands
"Let me die for oar Italy. brothers,
If not in your ranks, by your hands!
"Aim straight- fire steadily; spare 010
A ball in the body, which May
Deliver my heart here, and tear me
Thin badge of the Austrian away."
So id:might he. so died he this morning.
What then? many others have died ;
A y—but easy tor melt to d o iscortaileg
The death-stroke ; whit ;ought sine by side;
o...tricolor a.m.:lg above them;
Struck down mid triumphant acclaims
Of net Italy rescued to love them
And blazon the brass w ith their names.
Dui he—without witnels or honor,
Nixed, shamed ist his country's regtard,
With the tyrdtits who marched in upon her—
Dled faithful and passive: 'twos herd.
'Twat sublime. 7n a cruel restriction
Cat off from the gucrilon of sons,
With most final obedience, convicting',
His soul kissed the lips of her guns.
That moves you! nay, grudge not to show it
Wilde digging a grave for bin, hare.
Theenhers who died, says your poet,
Have glory: let him have a tem.
[Cor.thill 211aga.ine
Rock Me to Sleep, Mother
ET FLORENCE PERCY
Backward, turn backward, oh, Time, M your floght,
Make me a child orrainjust for tomight!
Mother, come buck from the erbolem shore,
Take me lipoid to your heart as of yore—
Kite iron) my forehead the furrows of tare.
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair—
Over my slumber your loviug watch keep
Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep!
Backward, flow backward, oh, t:de of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears—
Toil without rt.compense—tents all ht vain
Take them and pee me my childhood again?
I have growl' weary of dust and decay,
Weary of flinging my soul tveatill away—
Weary of t,owing for enticed to reap,
Rock me to sieep, motherz--rock me to sleep!
Tired of the hollow. the base, the untrue .
%tattier, Oh, mother, my heart coils for you!
'finny a summer the gra.. has grown melt,
Itto —tatted itad faded, our faces between—
Vet with et rang yeartaittio. and paitaiottate pain,
1.0.ig I to I.lglit for your pre-ence again;
Come from the .ilence en long and 'ode •p—
-ito,k me to ~ I ceP. Mother—rock me to sleep!
Over my heart in the days that are Bowe,
No love like moilter-tove ever lit. Atone—
No other worship abide, and endures
Vopliful me.elfp.ll and parent like yours;
None like a m ther can abral away pain
Prom the /doh soul and the world-weary• bruin;
Slumber's .-cdi calm• o'er my heavy lull creep,
Rock me to steep. mother—rock me to sleep:
Come, let your brown buir.yust lighted with gold,
Frll on your shoulders await no of old;
Let a drop over my forehead to-night,
tthuding my faint eyes mew from the light
ror with it. runny-edged rundown once more
Haply will throng the avocet vision. of yore,
Levingty, sofily, tie Might billows sweep—
Rock me to sleep, mo:he r—rock me to eleepl
Mo her, dear mother! the years have been long
Since f have slept to your lullaby snug;
Stag, then, and Wits my soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have bceu only a dream.
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light la-hes So st sweeping my face,
Never, hereafter to wale or to weep—
Ruck me to sleep, mother—rock mu to sleep!
[Sat Evening Post
getertinuo,
Recollections of Irving.
BY nts PUBLISHER
The pen of Mr. George P. Putnam paints
some pleasant l ictures of Washington Irving
in the November number of the Atlantic
Monthly. We copy a few paoiageq:
You are aware that one of the most inter
eating re-unions of men connected with liter
ary pursuits in Englund as at the annual
dinner of the "Literary Fund" the manage•
went of which has been so often dissected
of late by Dickens and others. It is a fund
for disablel authors, and like most other
British charities, requires to be fed annu
ally by a public dinner. A notable occa
sion of this kind happened on the 11th of I
May, ISI2. It was at this time that I first 1 ,
met Mr. Irving in Europe. The president
of the festival was no less than the Queen's
young husband, Prince Albert—his first ap
pearance in that (presidential) capacity.—
His three speeches were more than respec
table, for a prince; they were a positive
success. In the course of the evening we
had speeches by flallam and Lord Mahon
for the historians; Campbell_and Moore for
the poets; Talfourd for the dramatists and
the bar; Sir Roderick Murchison for the
:nuns; Chevalier Bunsen and Baron' Brun
now for the diplomatists; G. P. R. James
I fer the novelists; the Bishop of Glonchetter;
Gaily Knight, the antiquary; and a goodly
sprinkling of peers, not famed to authors.
Edward Everett was present as American
Minister; and Washington Irving (then on
his way.to Madrid in diplomatic capacity)
represented Americans Authors. Such an
array of speakers in/irsingleerening is rare
indeed and it was an occasion long to be
remembered.
"NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CIIEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING."
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING-, NOVEMBER 17, 1860.
The toasts and speeches were, of course,
very precisely arranged beforehand, as eti
quette requires, I suppose, being in the
presence. of "His Royal Ilighttess;" yet,
most of them were animated and charaeter
istic. When "Washington Irving and
American Literature" was propounded by
the fugleman at the elbow of the Royal
Highness, the cheering was vociferously
hearty anti cordial, and the interest
.and
curiosity to see and hear Geoffrey Crayon
seemed to be intense. His name appeared
to touch the finest chords of genial sympathy
and good-will. The other famous men of
the evening had been listened to with res
pect and deference, but Mr. Irving's name
inspired genuine enthusiasm. Wo had been
listening to the learned Hallam, and the
sparkling Moore,—to the classic and fluent
authorof ••Ion," and to the "Bard of Hope."
—to the historic and theulogic diplomate
from Prussia, and to the stately representa
tive of the Czar. A. dozen well prepared
sentiments had been responded to in as many
different speeches. "The Mariners of Eng
land," "And cloth not a meeting like this
make amends?" bad been sung, to the evi
dent satisfaction of the authors of those
lyrics. (Campbell, by-the-way, who was
near my seat, had to be "re••ahtted" in his
speech by his friend and publisher, Maxon,
lest his Royal Highness should be scanda
lized.) And now everybody was on tiptoe
fur the author of “Bracebridge Hall."- If
his speech had been' proportioned to the
cheers which greeted him, it would Inive
been the longest of the evening. When,
therefore, he simply said, in his modest, be
seeching manner, "I bog to return you my
very sincere thanks," his brevity seemed
almost ungracious to those who didn't know
that it was physically impossible fur hint to
make a speech. It was vexations that rou
tine had omitted from the list of speakers
Mr. Everett, who was at Irving's side; but,
as diplomate, the Prussian and Russian had
precedence, and as American author,
Irving, of course, was the representative
man. An Englishman near me said to his
neighbor,—"Brief?" "Yes, but you can
tell the gentleman in the very tone of his
voice."
In the hat-room I was amused to see "lit- I
tie Tom Moore" in the crowd, appealing
with mock pathos to Irving, as the biggest
man, to pass his ticket, least he should be
demolished in the rush. They left the ball
together to encounter a heavy shower; and
Moore in his "Diary," tells the following
further incident:
"The best thing of the evening (as far as
I was concerned) occurred after the whole
grand show was over. Irving and I came
away together, and we had hardly got into
the street when a pelting shower came on,
and cabs nod umbrellas, were in requisition'
in all directions. As we were provided
with neither, our plight was b.moming ser
ious, when a common cad run up to me and
said, 'Shall I get you a cab, Mr. Moore?
Sure a'n't I the man that patronizes your
Melodies?' lie then ran off in search of a
vehicle, while Irving and I stood up, like a
pair of male caryatides, under a very nar
row protection of a hull door ledge, and
thought, at last, that we were quite forgot.
ten by my patron. But he came faithfully
back, and while putting me into a cab,
(without minding at all the trifle I gave
him for his trouble,) he said confidentially
in my ear: 'Now mind, whenever you want
a cab, Misthur Moore, just call for Tim
Flaherty, and I'm your man.' Now, this,
I call fame, and of somewhat more agree
able kind than that of Dante, where the wo
men in the street found him out by the
marks of hell-fire on his beard."
When I said that 3lr Irving could not
speak iu public I bad forgotten that he did
once get through with a very nice little
speech on such an occasion as that just as
luded to. It was at an entertainment given
in 1837, at the old City Hotel in New York,
by the New York booksellers to American
authors. Many of "the trade" will remem
ber the good things snid on that eveniug,
and among them Mr. Irving'sspeech about
Ilalleck, nod about Rogers the poet, as the
"friend of AnteriNui genius." At my re•
quest, he afterwards wrote out his remarks,
which were printed in the papers of the
day. Probably this was his last, if not his
best effort in this line; fur the Dickens-din
ner remarks were not complete.
In 1845, Mr. Irving came to London from
his post at Madrid, on a short visit to his
friend, Mr. McLane, then American Minis
ter th England. It was my privilege at that
time to know bim more domestically than
before. It was pleasant to have him at my
table at "Knickerbocker Cottage." With
his permission a quiet party of four was
made um the otheis being Dr. Beattie, the
friend and biographer of Campbell; Samuel
Carter Hall, the litterateur, and editor of the
Art Journal; and William Howie. Irving was
much interested in whet Dr. Beattie had to
tell about Campbell. and especially so in
Carter Hall's stories of Moore and his - pa
tron, Lord Lansdowne. Moore, at this time,
was in lilt health and shut up from the
world. I need not attempt to quote the
conversation. Irving bad been somewhat
intimate with Moore in former days, and
found him doubtless an entertaining and
lively companion—but his replies to Hall
about the "patronage" of my Lord Lans
downe, etc.; indicated pretty clearly that he
had no sympathy with the small traits and
parasitical tendencies of Moore's character.
If there was anything specially detestable
to Irving and at variance with his very na-
tore, it was that self-seeking deference to
wealty and station which was so character
istic of the Irish poet.
1 had hinted to one of my guests that Mr.
Irving was sometimes "caught napping,"
even at the dinner table, so that such an
event should not occasion surprise. The
conversation proved so interesting that I
had almost claimed a victory, when, lot a
slight lull in the talk disclosed the fact that
our respected guest was nodding. I believe
it - was a habit with him for many years,
thus to take "forty winks" at the dinner
table. Still the conversation of that even
ing was a rich treat, and my English friends
frequently. thanked me aftetwards for the
opportunity of meeting "the man of all
others whom they desired to know."
The term of Mr. Irving's contract with
his Philadelphia publishers, expired in
1843, and, fur fire years his works remained
instate quo, no American publisher appear.
ing to think them of sufficient importance
to propose definitely for a now edition. Sur
prising as this fact appears now, it is is ac
tually true that Mr. Irving began to think
that his works had "rusted out" and were
"defunct,"—for nobody offered to reproduce
them. Being, in IS4S, again settled in New
York, and apparently able to render suita
ble business attention to the enterprise, I
ambitiously proposed an arrangement to
publish Irving's Works. My suggestion
was made in a brief note, written on the
impulse of the moment; but (what was more
remarkable) it was promptly accepted with
out the change of a single figure or a single
stipulation. It is sufficient to remark, that
the number of volumes since printed of these
works (including the later ones) amounts to ,
about eight hundred thousand. I
The relations of friendship—l cannot say
intimacy—to which this arrangement ad
mitted me were such as any man might
have enjnyed with proud satisfaction. I
had always , too much earnest respect for.
Mr. Irving ever to claim familiar intimacy
with him. lle was a mart who would un
consciously and quietly command deferen
t dal regard and consideration; for in all his
ways and words there was the 'atmosphere
of true refinement. He was emphatically
a gentleman, in the best sense of that word.,
Never forbidding or morose, he was at times
(indeed always, when quite well) full of go- I
Mal humor—sometimea overflowing with i
fun. But I need not, here at least, attempt
to earn up his characteristics.
That "Sunnyside" home was too inviting
to those who wore privileged there to allow
any proper opportunity fur a visit to pass
unimproved. In Iced, it became so attrac
tive to strangers and lion hunters, that some'
of those whose entree was quite legitimate
and acceptable, refrained, especially during
the last ten years, from adding to the heavy
tax which casual visitors began to levy upon I
the quiet hours of the host. Ten years ago, j
when Mr. Irving was in his best estate oil
health and spirits. when his mood was of the,
sunniest, and Woolfert's Roost was in the!
spring-time of its charms, it was my fortune
to pass a few days there with my wife.—;
Mr. Irving himself drove a snug pair of!
ponies down to the steamboat to meet us— i
(for, even then, Thackerity's "one old horse" ;
was not the only resource in the Sunnyside
stables.) The drive of two miles from Tar-
rytown to that delicious lane which leads to
the Roost—who does not know all that, and i
how charming it is? Five hundred descrip-i
tions of the Tappan Sea and the region i
round about have not exhausted it. The
Tho modest cottage, almost buried under,
the luxuriant Melrose ivy, was then just i
made what it is—a picturesque and corn- 1
furtable retreat for a mart of tastes mid I
habits like those or Gooffry Crayon—snug
and modest, bat yet, with till its surround
ings, a fit residence for a gentleman who
had means to make everything suitable as
well ns handsome about him. Of this a
word anon.
I do not presume to write of the home de
tails of Sunnyside, further than to say that
this delightful visit of three or four days
gave ns the impression that Mr. Irving's
element seemed to be at home, as head of
the family. Re took us fur a stroll over the
grounds—some twenty acres of wood and
dell, with babbling brooks—pointing out
innumerable trees which he had planted
with his own hands, and telling us anecdotes
and reminiscences of his early life; of his
being taken in the Mediterranean by pirates;
of his standing on the pier at Messina, Si
cily, and looking at Nelsen's fleet sweeping
by on its way to the Battle of Trafalgar; of
his failure to see the interior of Milan Ca
thedral, hecause it was being decorated for
the coronation of the first Naroleon; of his
adventures in Rome with Allston, and bow
near Geoffrey Crayon came to being an ar
tist—of Talleyrand, and many other celeb
rities---and of incidents which seemed to
take us back to a former generation. Often
at this and subsequent visits I ventured to
suggest, (riot professionally,) after some of
these reminiscences, "I hope you have tak
en time to make a note of these;" bat the
oracle nodded a sort of humorous No. A
drive to Sleepy hollow—Mr. Irving again
managing the ponies himself—crowned our
visit; and with such a coachman and guide
in such regions, we were not altogether un
able to appreciate the excursion.
During one of his visits to the city, Mr.
Irving asked if I ceuld give him a bed at
my house at Staten Island: I could. So
we bad a nice chatty evening, and the next
morning we took him on a charming drive
I over the hills of Staten Island. He seemed
to enjoy it highly, for lie had not been there
I believe, since ho was stationed there in a
military capacity during the war of 1812,
as aid. of Governor Tompkins. Ile gave us
a humorous account of some of his equest
rian performances, and those of the Gov
ernor, while on duty at the Island; but
neither his valor uor tho Governor's was
tested by any actual contact with the
enemy.
A word more about Mr. Irving's manner
of life. The impression given by Thacke
ray, in his notice (genial enough, and well
meant, doubtless) of Irving's death, is ab
surdly inacurate. His picture of the "one
old horse," the plain little house, etc.,
would lead one to imagine Mr. Irving a
weak, good-natured old man, amiably, but
parsimoniously, saving up his pennies fur
his "eleven nieces," (!) and to this end
stinting himself, among other ways, to a
"single glass of wino," etc., etc. Mr.
Thuokeray's notions of style and state and
liveried retinues are probably not entirely
un•English, notwithstanding he wields so
sharp a pen against England's snobs; and
he may naturally hare looked for more dis
play of greatness at the residence of an ex
embassadur. But, be could scarcely appre
ciate that simple dignity and solid comfort,
that unobtrusive Aness, which belonged to
31r. Irving's home arrangements. There
wore no flunkies in gold and scarlet; but
there were four or tire good horses in the
stable, and as many suitable carriages.—
Everything in the cottage was peculiarly
and comfortably elegant, without the least
pretension. As to the "single glass of wine,"
Mr. Irving, never a professed tee-to taller,
was always temperate on instinct, both in
eating and drinking, and in his last two
years I believe he did not taste wine at all.
In all financial matters, Mr. leviog's prov
idence and preciseness were worthy of imi
tation by all professional literary men; but
with exactness ;tad paiietuality he united a
liberal disposition to make a suitalle use of
money. and to have all around him comfort
able and appropriate. Knoweig that he
could leave a handsome independence for
those nearest to him, ho had no occasion
for any such anxious care as Mr. Thacke
ray intimates.
Thackeray had been invited to Yonkers,
to give his lecture on "Charity and Humor."
At this:"Ancient Derp" he was the guest of
Cuzzens, and I had the honor of accompany.
ing the greater and lesser humorist in a
drive to Sunnyside, nine miles. (This call
of an hour, by the way, was Thackeray's
only glimpse of the piece he described )
The interview was in every way interesting.
Mr. Irving prodaeol a pair of antiquated
spectacles, which had belonged to Washing
ton, and Major Pendennis tried them on
with evident revereucq. The hour was well
filled with rapid, plearant chat; but no pro
found analysis of the characteristics of wit
and humor was elicited either from the
Stout Gentleman or from Vanity Fair. Mr. I
Irving went down to Yonkers to hear Thnek
may's lecture in tho evening, after we had'
all had a piece of hear at Mr. Sparrow
grass's to say nothing of sundry other
courses, with a slight thread of conver
sation between. At the lecture he was
sa startled by the eulogistic presentation of I
the lecturer to the audience, by the excellent I
chief of the committee, that I believe he did
nut once nod during the evening. We were,
of course, proud to have as our guest for the
night such an embodiment of -Charity and
Humor" as Mr. Thackeray saw in the front •
bench before him, but whurn be consider
ately spared from holding up as on Mustily.
tion of his subject.
A Colonial Adventure
Many years of my life have passed &nee
I bade farewell, fur good and aye, to the
flourishing colony of Nova Scotia; and the
remembrance of the interests and amuse
ments in which I once particinated—of the
climate under whose influence I hare so
often shivered or scorched—of the scenery,
so wild, yet so beautiful, has now faded
away from my recollection, before the im
pression of other and new scenes. There is
one incident of my stay there, however,
which stands out sharp and prominent from
amongst the haze that shadows the rest of
the picture, and from its peculiarity and ab
surdity never recurs to my mind without a
smile, though the laugh be , entirely at my
own expense.
llnlifax is not, or rather was not in my
time, at all deficient in amusements; the
country around it afforded abundance of
hunting, shooting, and fishing to those whose
time and inclination led them to indulge in•
such pursuits. In summer, the presence of
the West Indies fleet gave life to the society
of the town; and when winter laid its icy
hand on the little peninsula, and with its
barrier of snow and frost seemed almost to
cut off the Ilalligonians from the rest of the
world, it brought with it, too, new amuse
ments to console them for their isolated po
sition. The lakes. ponds, and sometimes
parts of the ass itself, were covered with
skaters. With the first fail of snow, sleighs,
with their rich furs and merry sounding
bells, were to be seen rapidly gliding' in
every direction; sleighing parties, replete
with fun and incident. were constantly or
ganized; while the members of the Tandem
Club vied with Gash other in the neatness of
their turnouts and driving skill. Thy,
again, whose empty pockets were a cheel,
on their oharioteering propensities, took
their share of amusement out of the snow
by traversing its surface on racquets, or
$1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; 12,00 IF NOT 1,/ AD \ N
mounted on a coaster or treboggin, by rush
ing over it where it clothed some steep hill
side. In these amusements, however, I par
ticipated but little; a sedentary occupation
engrossed my day from nine o'clock until
five, leaving me but a sle'ider margin for
bodily exercise. used most fervently to
wish the six months' winter to come to an
end, and looked forward with pleasure to the
long bright Mornings of summer. These
were indeed a boon to me; I generally de
voted them to bathing (for the few summer
months of the Nova Scotian climate are in
tensely hot; and I found that a dip in the
sea before breakfast was the best pacifier
both of mind And body for the business of
the day. With this recreation I combined
that of. riding, so that, on a fine morning, I
was about the first moving thing the sun
saw when be rose over the eastern hill. as I
proceeded on horseback to my usual bathing
place.
Let no one picture to himself, at this fa
miliar name, smooth sands, machines, and
stout amphibious bathing-women; but rath
er a bold rock running out into the sea, with
twenty feet of water beneath it, the adjoin
ing shore wooded with stunted pine to the
trater's edge, and only accessible by a rough
and intricate path through the bush. This is
not a place to go into ecstasies on the beauty
of these morning rides; the cool, refreshing
air; the luxuriant, almost tropical foliage,
dripping with dew; the rising sun, breaking
red and hot through the mist that seemed
to cling to the surf:toe of the sea; the busy
notes of the different birds, as they awoke to
the duties of the day, front the consequen
tial chirp of the American robin, a stately
fellow in red waistcoat mind dark glossy coat,
who sought his matutinal w .-.11 n a slow
and dignified manner, to the quick hiss of
the diminuthe tiurrymi.g on,
in his livery of green and gold, to gain the
first sip from the new store of dew that the
night had provided for him in the cups of
his favorite flowers. Suffice it to say that,
to one who saw nnturo but seldom, these
early interviews were very enjoyable.
It was on such a morning as I have de•
scribed that I was cantering quietly along
the turf side path which led to my usual
bathing-Inoue, aceompamm.ed by my constant
companion, a rough Skye terrier, whose ex
tended tongue and depressed tail showed
that the pace was too severe for his short
legs, when I was met by an agrieultural
Bluenose, the possessor of the only log but
and clearing ou my road. Now, this meet
ing was nothing unusual in itself, since r Lad
often before exchanged good mornings on i
passing him, as with his oxen mind wain he
tailed along the deeply rutted road. Ife I
was naturally of a phlegmatic temperament,
the descendant protably of seine Dutch set
tlor, and usually jealous of removing his
short clay pipe to indulge in conversation;
but on this occasion something had trans•
pired which had effectually aroused him.—
In his open mouth was no pipe; the oxen
were at home; and their owner, with a very
dirty white face, and hair on end, was run
ning along the road at the rate of four miles
an hour. Oc seeing me, however, he stop
ped, and, as soon as he had recovered sun
ciont breath to speak, beg.;ed ~e to turn
back with him. Ile then proceeded to in• I
form me that a convict, a most desperate
ruffian, and sentenced fur murder to penal
servitude for life, had escaped from the
neighboring penitentiary on the preceding
afternoon; that search had been made for
him that evening, but without success, and
he was supposed to hare escaped further
into the bush. That night, however, he had I
made his way to the settler's lonely house,
demanded food, and spent a pleasant ere
fling over the fire, smoking the Dutchman's
short pipe, eating his supper, and drinking
his private store of runs.
The poor squatter and his wife were ut.
terly cowed, and ministered to the wants of
of their unwelcome guest in every particu
lar. This probably mollified his temper,
and perhaps prevented his fulfilling Lis first . ,
threat of adding murder to robbery. At
daybreak he left them, first, however, for-1
bidding the' lawful owner to quit his Louse
for some hours, on peril of his life. This
command poor Dutchy dared to disobey, and,
leaving his partner to the guardianship of
Providence, was now careering towards the
town as fast as his legs could carry him.—
His object for going there was not so clear;
ho appeared to have some hazy idea that'
there be would find safety and assistance;
but his faculties had not sufficieotly recov
ered the shock they had received to enable
him to form any connected plan of proceed
ings. Now, I must say that, when I re
ceived this atory, interspez Bed with puffs and
groans from my still short-winded informant,
my first impulso was to turn back, and give
up my bathe, to keep him company on his
way to town. Still, when I calculated on
the chances of meeting the escaped one at
all, much more at the moment when I was
in the water, stripped and defenceless, /
found the odds against the rencounter were
very large; besides, I did not feel inclined
to relinquish my bath—l did not like the
idea of retreating from fear of one man.
who, for all I knew, might be now mile,
away; and, therefore, notwithstanding the
remonstrances of my friend, I deteru.ined
to proceed. Ile did not waste much time in
persuasion; but, after looking at me a mo
ment or two with a wondering air, bowled
-•n again at the top of his speed, toward,
:ae town.
I was not altogetber comfortable, T con
foss, tie I kicked my horse, aides with my
[WHOLE NUMBER 1,578.
heels, and induced him to resume his canter;
it was with rather an air of bravado that I
whistled to my dog, told him the circum
stances of the case, and exhorted him to
keep a sharp look out. I confess-to looking
over my shoulder as I went on; and, whets
I arrived ut my bathing-place. I must say
I took a careful survey round before I dis
mounted, or proceeded to fasten up my
steed. There was no sound to be heard, ea•
cept the monotonous surges of the calm wa
ter, and the patter of the drops falling from
the dew laden boughs. There were nn
mnrks of footsteps on the grass, or traces of
any human Leing.
I felt secure, began to laugh at the ab•
surdity of my former fears, and leisurely
divesting myself of my garments, prepared
to take the plunge. As I stood for en-.
I moment on the edge of the rock, with arms
raised above my head, preparatory to the
leap, I took one last look round; there was
my horse, tethered to his usual stump, graz-
I big peacefully; my dog lay panting near
him. How foolish, I had been, thought I;
and in I went. Now, it is my custom, on
jumping into the deep water, not immediate
ly to rise again, like a cork, to the surface,
het to swim, ns long as I hare any breath
loft, beneath it; and, when at length I ar.
rive at the top, to proceed to free my eyes
from the salt water before looking much
about me, fur to see with oyes full of brine
cannot reasonably be expected of anybody.
It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that
on this particular occasion I did tot imme
diately discososr after my submersion, some
foreign object on my rock. However, I soon
did. There was something there bine and
yellow; its parti-colored legs wore banging
over the ledge—it was the murderer I I
could not at first believe my water-logged
eyes, and gare them another rob; etilktbere
he sat, a ruuglt•lookiog fellow enough, with
close cut hair, and forbidding face. In the
corner of his dirty mouth was the Dutch
man's pipe; on his knees was my black coat,
the pockets of which ho was carelessly
searching. Ile appeared a good natured
murderer enough, a victim of circumstances
I should say, one whose naturally good die
position had been perverted by education,
and with a keen sense of fun into. the bar
gain. Our comparative position seemed to
amuse him vastly. Ile helped himself to
some tobacco he found in my coat pocket,
cut it up with a knife, it with a
fusee that ho found in my waistcoat pocket,
took a. few whitfe with an air of inward
comfort, gave me a short nod, and then
spoke: 'Tine morning, mate! Water cold?"
I had by this time Willi a survey of my
position, saw there was no help fur it, so re
plied with a sympathetic shiver that it was
cold—very cold; bat, as he had observed, it
wits a fine morning.
"I am going," continued be, in an easy
tone of voice. "to borror these hero clothes
of yourn; they're more quiet like than mine.
I don't mind, too, if I change shirts, as
yours seems the cleanest, though I think
you'll gain in the long run," said ho, begin
ning to strip, and exposing to my view a
• dirty, once red, now no-color-at-all, flannel
vestment beneath .llt4 frieze. Remonstran
ces were vein. I was in the water, he on
land—he was in possession. It was with
grief that I viewed my garments one by one
appropriated, and saw the gradual trans
formation of the man, from the real, uttinie
takeable convict, to something between a
dissipated waiter and a clergyman in the
Queen's Bench; fur, be it known, my gar
ments were of u sad color and quiet cut, and
although somewhat old, still dear to me.—
He could not get on my boots; there was
hope in that; I should be able to walk home
in comfort, if not in elegance—boots and n
bathing-towl being hardly called fashion
able, even in summer—but my hopes were
doomed to be disappointed. After many
endeavors to force his feet into them, and
after splitting one of them in the unavailing
, trugf:le, he thing them both at me, saying
they might be of 1.19 C to me, but were none
to him. Ho was now fully apparelled.—
lie waved his mean my hat—in fare
well, and turned to depart. He'll leave the
horse, hoped T. I was soon freed from my
suspense. I heard him proceed to unfasten
him; I hoard the animal's frightened snort
as he recognized tho different odor of the
man. My dog, who had kept up ant:avail
ing bark and growl during the whole of the
proceedings, followed him a little way, but
soon returned disgusted. I beard hint can
ter off, the hasty footsteps reechoing More
faintly through the woods. I was alone
again, and then the full force 'army position
struck me. I swain to the shore, my fin
gers blue, and my teeth chattering like a
pair of castanets, climbed trembling up the
rock, and viewed with disgust the heap of
dirty garments before me. "so," said I,
"girt with bathing towel only, or in the
primitive and leafy costume of our first pa
rents, will I return, but not in those detes
ted clothes."
At this moment a sharp prick in tbe
shoulder, followed by another, and by what,
Longfellow calls "a sound of wings,"
brought me down from my heroics. I look
ed around me—the air was dark with myr
iads thirsting for blood. With a feeling of
sympathy fur the Egyptians, and a surmise
as to the probability of there being black
dies and mosquitoes in Eden, I rushed' to,
and sought protection of the many-colored
garments. It was enough; I needed no
other protection; the bleak fly legions
etreated discomfited. Even my dog seem
ed inclined to keep to windward, and sniffer
EMI