Vol XXXVII —Whole No- 1994. Terms of Subscription. O>E DOLLAR PER AXXUM, IN ADVANCE. For six months, 75 cents. ?dr* All NEW subscriptions must be paid in advance. If the paper is continued, and not paid within the first month, $1,25 will be char ged ; if not paid in three months, $1,50; if not paid in six months, $1,75; and if not paid in nine months, $2,00. Kates of Advertising:. One square, 10 lines 2 squares, G mos. $5,00 1 time 50 44 1 year 10.00 44 2 times 75 column, 3 mos. 8,00 3 44 1,00 44 G 44 1 0,00 I 44 1 mo. 1,25 44 1 year 15,00 j 44 3 41 2.50 1 column, 3 mos. 10,00 1 44 6 4 4 4,00 4 4 6 44 1 5,00 ! 1 year 6 00 44 1 year 25,00 2 squares, 3 times 2,00 Notices before MAC- | 44 3 mos. 3,50 RIAGES, <fce, sl2. The above rates are calculated on burgeois tjpe. In smaller type, 15 lines of bretier, or K' lir.es of nonpariel minion constitute a'quare. For stereotype plates, a liberal deduction ! will he made. The above are cadi terms for all advertisements ' •nsti ied for three months or less. Yearly ad vcrtiscuients are held payable, one half at the ! end of three, and the balance at the end of six months. Communications recommending persons for ' office, must be paid in advance at the rate of ! cents per square. Uoctvp. THE CRAVE \ VRI). Sr -p lightly! fir beneath thy feet, la death's repose, ->o calm and sweet, Sleep thn-o who were once us gay as thou, Whose >tep. once light as thine is now, < at wandered to this holy ground, w her 1 , lingering near Ssouie turf-grown mound, They gazed as thou—without a sigh— \mi dreamed, like thou, they could not die. < h ! crush not carelessly yon flower— it - fragrance steals with magic power < 1 ev me tui n heart, whose gentle care I'he f\vt -t love-token planted there, To bio.-.-, m in this quiet vale. Fanned by the zephyr's soft st gale: In chastest beauty there to bloom, I pon some precious loved one's tomb. Ibrutho ,-oftly —lost some grating sound, Mingling with stillness so profound, Should startle l'r m their quiet rest Tin s,.iig-t. rs that have built their nest Jiigh in the weeping willow tiee, As if they, too. tar off would flee From sorrow's withering blight, like thn.- > M io find beneath its boughs repose. Speak g'-ntly—let no careless word Amid the holy calm lie heard : Lot no rude tone disturb the breeze, That, murmuring gently through the trees, Seems ever chanting o'er the, dead A requiem for the "spirit fled " That seems with every breathing sigh T. whisper, " here earth's loved ' ires lie.'' JHtscell a u r o u 0. 'ihe Beauty and the Beggar. 4 Do, Philip, order that insolent little pauper from the gate; I wonder What right a beggar can have to look at beauti ful things !' There was a glance bestowed upon u:e all eloquent with hauteur and contempt, and the creature of floating • --.iris and rich rustling garments, swept down the steps of her father's proud man sion. Thanks to my nimble extremities, they -Or "ii removed utc from danger ol the hire ling ( xccuting his child mistress s com mand, and the 44 insolent hide pauper stood stiil, vorv still on the crowded tlior oughlare, only sometimes his lingers twirled convulsively the tassel ot his torn cap, ;.iid when the soft sunshine crept to his feet and looked up in his face with its bright loving smile, he would turn away slowly and mournfully, as i( its beauty were not for him. I was a beggar! there was no denying it! That proud, beautiful girl had only spoken die truth. Ever since the autumn time before when they tumbled the dark clods on my mother's pine coffin, 1 had been a beggar, and perhaps it was wrong, but I did not nuan it, stopping to look at the clusters of early roses and the dark blue violets lifting their melancholy eyes to the sliv, and wishing 1 had one to plant on my mother's grave. But 1 was a beggar ! What right had I to wish such a thing? I remembered with that thought how the shadows crept heavier and thicker over my child spirit, until down among the pulses of my heart it seemed that a voice had awakened, and that every throb was a tongue breathing those cold, clear, taunting words again. 1 thought the crowds of 44 passers by" must hear them too, and I wondered they did not spurn ine from their path. It was frightful! It was frightful, as I recall now—the paralys ing of that one hour of my boyhood, many a year has seemed shorter. Suddenly I thought, (I knew it slipped from the white wing of some angel,) like the sunlight—no, no ' like the Ilcaven light crept in among the soul s shadows, and they vanished before it. That thought was, 44 1 will be a beggar no longer." My soul had been stunned, paralyzed ! That thought resuscitated it. Difficulties ? no matter ; I would brave and conquer them all. That hour with the great Father's help, made ine all that I have ever been since. I was strong in purpose, and wept upon my way fearlessly, resolvedly. The angel looked down and saw that his mission was done ; the seed he had XPIEHSMFIIID IISYIS) SBU <BSI@3B<BIII MSWSSIP©W£S , 3 IF&* planted would have its harvest time ; then smiled and passed homewards. ******* 4 Please, sir, will you give me one of those pretty flowers for Mamma? She is very ill, and we don't have flowers nowa days, and the child questioner raised her large dark eyes imploringly to mine. Thank God ! the prosperity that was His gift had not chilled my heart; so I paused and gathered some of the fairest and most fragrant of the spring blossoms and placed them in the eager little hands. It was touching! the quivering of the little fel low's lip, and choking of his voice as he tried to thank me ; but there was something in the delicate tracery of the blue veins across the fair, pale brow, that arrested, then fascinated my gaze. 1 knew not where, but I had seen a brow like that be- fore. 4 Will you take me to your moth er's?' I asked, for his threadbare garments suggested to me that my visit might beop portunately made. There was a glad, grateful assent. It was a long walk, but it terminated at last before a dilapidated dwelling in the suburbs of the city. 4 Mamma, mamma ! 1 have brought YOU flowers, beautiful flowers,' and the child sprang to the bedside of its mother. IShe was propped up in her couch in that scan tily furnished apartment, but a gleam of wild joy stole over the pallid features, and the wasted hand was stretched with trem bling eagerness as the boy placed his bo quet before her. There was a quick, con vulsive sob, and then other drops than the dew lay among the crimson petals. Xhe was unconscious of my presence ; it was well that she was so, for 1 could not have spoken. I had recognized her at the first glance. 1 should have recognized her had she been ten-fold more changed than she was. The pale, high brow had lost much of the pride of its girlhood in the shadows that had supplanted it, and the pallid lips, much of the scorn that lay around them in by gone time, and the eyes that had flashed in anger at the 44 insolent little pauper," whose wistful, blooming eves had rested for a moment upon the parterres around her luxuriant home, had grown mournful and sunken. 1 stood awed and silent in the presence o! the woman, whose words, twenty years before, had produce d an entire change in my life and character, and who then would have regarded the 44 hem of her garment" contaminated, had it brushed across mine. How changed were our po sitions ! \ erily, 44 lie putlelh down one and selteth up another." Alarmed at his mother's emotion, the chibi had not directed her attention towards me, and so I moved noiselessly and undis covered front the threshold to commune with my own heart and be still. The evening of tiiat day the mother and the child were removed to the home where the childhood of the former had been passed. I had become its possessor the previous year. That home was left in a few weeks for another and a narrower; but she who thus left it, never dreamed, when with her dy ing breath she committed her child to the protection of the stranger, that for the roof that sheltered her, for all of coin fori and luxury that were gathered around the 44 closing days of her life," she was in debted to an "insolent little pauper." Beaming the Currency. Of all the close dealers among us, the Dutchmen live on less, and shave the, clo sest. It is astonishing how soon they learn our currency. A good thing occur red, however, a few days since with the keeper of a small 4 Lager Beer' saloon, in the neighborhood, who undertook to teach his assistant, a thick-headed sprout of 4 Faderland,' the difference between five pence and six-pence. • \ou see, Joint, de piece midout de vomaus ish de six-pence.' 4 \ ah !' said John, with a dull twinkle of intelligence. A wag of a loafer, who overheard the lecture, immediately conceived the idea of a 4 saw,' and 4 Lager Beer' gratis, for that day at least. Procuring a three cent piece, he watched the 4 boss,' and going up to John called for a mug of beer, throwing down the coin and looking as if lie expected his change. John remem bered his recent lesson, took up the piece, and muttered to himself: 4 Midout de voraans—'tish von six pence,' he handed over three coppers change. How often the aforesaid wag drank that day we know not, it depended upon his thirst and the number of times he could exchange three cent pieces for three coppers ; but when the 4 boss' came home at night the number of small coin some what astonished hitn. 4 Vat is dese, John, you take so many V 4 Six-pence,' replied John, with a pe culiarly satisfied leer. 4 Six-pence ! Dunder and blitzen ! You take all dese for six-pence ? YVho front ?' 4 De man mit peard like Kossuth, he dhring all day mit himself.' 4 Der tuyfel ! You give him change every time !' 4 Y-a-h !' said John, with a vacant stare. 4 Der tuyfel catch de Yankees,' was all the astonished Dutchman could say. FRIDAY EVEAIAG, SEPTEMBER 10, 1852. From the Household Words. " Who Murdered Downie." About the end of the eighteenth cen tury, whenever any student of the Mar isehal College, Aberdeen, incurred the dis pleasure of the humbler citizens, he was assailed with the question 4 who murdered Downie?' Reply and rejoinder generally brought on a collision between 4 town and gown ;' although the young gentlemen were accused of what was chronologically impossible. People have a right to be angry at being stigmatized as murderers, when their accusers have probability on their side; but the 4 taking off' of Dow nie occurred when the gownsmen, so ma ligned, were in swaddling clothes. But there was a time, when to be bran ded as an accomplice in the slaughter of Richard Downie, made the blood run to the cheek ot many a youth, and sent him home to his books, thoughtful and subdu ed. Downie was sacrist or janitor at Marisehal College. One of his duties consisted in securing the gate by a certain hour ; previous to which all the students hud to assemble in the common hall, where a latin prayer was delivered by the principal. \Y hether, in discharging this function, Downie was more rigid than his predecessor in office, or whether he be came stricter in tlte performance of it at one time than another, cannot now be acertained ; but there can be no doubt that lie closed the gate with austere punc tuality, and that those who were not in the common hall within a minute of the prescribed time, were shut out, and were afterwards reprimanded and fined by the principal and professors. The students became irritated at this strictness, and took every petty means of annoying the sacrist; he, in his turn applied the screw at other points of acedemic routine, and a fierce war soon began to rage between the col legians and the humble functionary. Dow nie took care that in all his proceedings he kept within the strict letter of the law, but his opponents were not so careful, and the decisions of the rulers were uniformly against them, and in favor of Downie. Reprimands and fines having failed in pro ducing due subordination, restriction, sus pension, and even the extreme sentences ot expulsion had to be put in force ; and in the end, law and order prevailed. But a secret and deadly grudge continued to be entertained against Downie. Various schemes of revenge were thought of. Downie was, in common with teachers and taught, enjoying the leisure of the short New Year's vacation—the pleasure being no doubt greatly enhanced by the annoyance to which he had been subjected during the recent bickerings—when, as he was one evening seated with his family in his official residence at lite gate, a mes senger informed him that a gentleman of a neighboring hotel wished to speak with him. Downie obeyed the summons, and was ushered front one room into another, until at length he found himself in a large apartment hung with black, and lighted by a solitary candle. After waiting some time in this strange place, about fifty figures also dressed with black masks on their faces, presented themselves. Theyar rainged themselves in the form of a Court, and Downie, pale with terror, was given to understand that he was about to be put to his trial. A judge took his seat on the Bench ; a clerk and public prosecutor sat below, a jury was empaneled in front, and witnes ses and spectators stood around. Dow nie at first set down the whole affair as a joke ; but the proceedings were conducted with such persistent gravity, that, in spite of himself he began to believe in the genuine mission of the awful tribunal. The clerk read an indictment, charging hitn with conspiring against the liberties of the students ; witnesses were examined in due forin, the public prosecutor addres sed the jury ; and the judge summed up. 4 Gentlemen,' said Downie,- 4 the joke has been carried far enough—it is getting late, and my wife and family will be get ting anxious about me. If I have been too strict with you in time past, I am sor ry for it, and 1 assure you 1 will take more care in future.' 4 Gentlemen of the jury,' said the judge, without paying the slightest attention to this appeal, 4 consider your verdict; and if you wish to retire, do so.' The jury retired. During their absence the most profound silence was observed ; and except renewing the solitary candle that burnt beside the judge, there was not the slightest movement. The jury returned and recorded a ver dict of guilty. The judge solemnly assumed a huge black cap, and addressed the prisoner: 4 Richard Downie! the jury has unani mously found you guilty of conspiring against the just liberty and immunities of the students of Marischal College. You have wantonly provoked and insulted those inoffensive lieges for some months, and your punishmeut will assuredly be condign. You must prepare for death. In fifteen minutes the sentence of the Court will be carried into effect.' The judge placed his watch on the Bench. A block, an axe, and a bag of sawdust were brought into the centre of the room. A figure more terrible than any that had yet appeared, came forward and prepared to act the part of doomsler. It was now past midnight, there was no sound audible save the ominous ticking of the judge's watch. Downie became more and more alarmed. 4 For God's sake, gentlemen,' said the terrified man, 4 let me go home. 1 prom ise that you never again shall have cause for complaint.' 4 liichard Downie,' remarked the judge, 4 you are vainly wasting the few moments that arc left you on earth. You are in the hands of those who must have your life. No human power can save you. At tempt to utter one cry, and you are seized and your doom completed before you can utter another. Every one here present has sworn a solemn oath never to reveal the proceedings of this night ; they are known to none but ourselves ; and when the object for which we met is acomplish ed, we shall disperse unknown to any one. Prepare, then, for death ; five minutes more will be allowed, and no more. The unfortunate man in an agony of deadly terror raved and shrieked for mercy ; but the avengers paid no heed to his cries. 11 is fevered trembling lips then moved as if in silent prayer ; lor he felt that the brief space between him and eternity was but a lew more tickings of that ominous watch. 4 Now,' exclaimed the judge, l our persons stepped forward and sei zed Downie, on whose features a cold clammy sweat had burst forth. They bared his neck, and made him kneel be fore the block. 4 Strike !' exclaimed the judge. The executioner struck his axe on the floor; an assistant on the opposite side lifted at the same moment a wet towel, and struck it across the neck of the recumbent criminal. A loud laugh announced that the joke had at last come to an end. But Downie responded not to the up roarious merriment—they laughed again— but still be moved not—they lifted hiin and Downie was dead ! Fright had killed him as effectually as if the axe ola real headsman had sever ed his head from his body. It was tragedy to all. The medical students tried to open a vein, but all was over ; and the conspirators had now to be think themselves of safety. They now in reality swore an oath among themselves, and the affrighted young men, carrying their disguises with them, left the body of Downie lying at the hotel. One of their number told the landloid that their enter tainment was not yet quite over, and that they did not wish the individual that was left in the room to be disturbed for some hours. This was to give them all time to make their escape. Next morning the body was found. Ju dicial inquiry was instituted, but no satis factory result could be arrived at. The corps of poor Downie exhibited no mark of violence, internal or external. The iil will between him and the students was known ; it was also known that the stu dents hired apartments in the hotel for theatrical representation—that Downie had been sent lor by them, but beyond this, nothing was known. No noise had been heard, no proof of murder could be ad duced. Of two hundred students at the College, who could point out the guilty or suspected fifty ? Moreover, the students were scattered over the city, and the magistrates themselves had many of their own families among the number, and it was not desirable to go into the affair too minutely. Downie's widow and family were provided for—and his slaughter re mained a misterv, until about fifteen years after its occurrence, a gentlemen on his death-bed disclosed the whole particulars, and avowed himself to have belonged to the obnoxious class of students who mur dered Downie. What was It Cut With. A party of friends had assembled one evening, and after discussing the various topics of the day, one remarked : 4 Well, boys, I suppose you've heard of Davis Dtincombe's marriage !' Some of them had and some of them had not. 4 Well,' continued the speaker, 4 he is married, and 1 was at the wedding. A right merry time we had of it, too, but there was one thing that surprised me, and that was the manner in which they cut the wedding cake. Now what do you think they cut it with.' • The wedding ring,' said one. 4 No.' 4 A string,' said another. •No.' 4 A stick whittled to an edge,' suggested a third. 4 No.' 4 A piece of tin,' ventured a fourth, thinking he had hit it. 4 No.' 4 Well, what was it,' exclaimed they, all in one breath, after guessing every im aginable article they could think of, ex cept the right one, that could either pos sibly, or impossibly be put through a eake. 4 Why,' said the quiz, 4 they cut it with a knije, to be sure.' The worst wheel of the cart makes the most noise. Science Answering (tuestions. Whv is rain water soft ? Because it is | not impregnated with earths and minerals. ! Why is it more easy to wash with soft water than with hard? Because soft water unites freely with soap, and dissolves it instead of decomposing it, as hard water does. Why do wood ashes make hard water soft? Ist, Because the carbonic acid of: wood ashes combines with the sulphate of! lime in the hard water, and converts it into j chalk; and 2dlv, Wood ashes convert some of the soluble salts of water into in- j soluble, and throw them down as a sedi ment, by which the water remains more pure. Why has rain water such an unpleasant j smell when it is collected in a rain-water tub or tank ? Because it is impregnated with decomposed organic matters, washed from roofs, trees, or the casks in which it ! is collected. Why does water melt silt ? Because very minute particles of water insinuate themselves into the pores of the salt by j capillary attraction, and force the crystals apart from each other. How does blowing hot foods make them cool ? It causes tbe air which has been heated by the food to change more rapidly, and give place to fresh cold air. Why do ladies fan themselves in hot weather ? That fresh particles of air may be brought in contact with their face by the action of the fan ; and as every fresh particle of air absorbs some heat from the skin, this constant change makes them cool. Does a fan cool the air ? No ; it makes the air hotter, by imparting to it the heat of our face ; but it cools our face, by trans ferring its beat to the air. Why is there always a strong draught through the keyhole of a door ? Because the air in the room we occupy is warmer than the air in the hall ; therefore, the air from the hall rushes through the keyhole into the room, and causes a draught. Why is there always a strong draught under the door, and through the crevices on each side? Because cold air rushes from the hall, to supply the void in the room caused by the escape of warm air up the chimney, etc. Whv is there always a draught through the window crevices ? Because the exter nal air, being colder than the air of the room we occupy, rushes through the win dow crevices to supply the deficiency : caused by the escape of warm air up the chimney, etc. If you open the lower sash of the win dow, there is more draught than if you open the upper sash. Explain the reason ol this. If the lower sash be open, cold external air will rush freely into the room, and cause a great draught inwards ; but it the upper sash be open, the heated air of the room will rush out; and, ot course, there will be less draught inwards. By which means is a room better ven tilated, by opening the upper and lower sash ? A room is better ventilated by opening tlte upper sash ; because the hot, vitiated air, which always ascends towards the ceiling, can escape more easily. By which means is a hot room more quickly cooled, by opening the upper or lower sash A hot room is cooled more quickly by opening the lower sasli; be i cause the cold air can enter more freely at the lower part of the room titan at the up- P er - Why does the wind dry damp linen ? Because dry wind, like a dry sponge, im bibes the particles of vapor from the sur face of the linen, as fast as they are formed. Which is the hottest place in a church or chapel ? The gallery. Why is the gallery of all public places hotter than the lower parts of the build ing ? Because the heated air of the building ascends; and all the cold air which can enter through the doors and windows keeps to the floor, till it has be come healed. Why do plants often grow out of walls and towers ? Either because the wind blew the seed there with the dust; or else because some bird, flying over, drop ped seed there which it had formerly eat -1 en.— Dr. Brewer's Guide to Science. My friend, a foreigner, called on me to "bid me farewell before he quitted town, and on his departure he said :— 4 lam going at the country.' I ventured to cor rect his phraseolegy by saying that we were accustomed to say, 4 going into the country.' He thanked me for this cor rection, said lie had profited by my lesson, and added, 4 1 will knock into your door on my return. Congreve rockets were invented in 1803, by Sir William Congreve. On a certain occasion, when visiting Westminster Ab bey, in company with some ladies, his at tention was directed by one of the party to the inscription on the great composer Purcell's monument: — 4 He has gone to that place where only his music can be excelled.' 4 There, Sir William,'said a young lady, 4 substitute fireworks for mu sic, and that epitaph will answer for your self.' He that can travel well afoot, keeps a i good horse. i\ew Series—Vol. 6—No. 47. IFrntn the Delaware Stale Journal. , The Yankee General. TI NE — Uncle Sam's -Farm. j Of all the Yankee Generals, 4u the east or in the west : I O! the Gallant Jersey General, Is the greatest and the best! i lie can tlog the whole creation, j And the ioky boys beside ; ! lie's the hero of the nation. And the people's greatest pride! Then gallant \\ iiigs, gallant Whigs,. March to the fray ; Strike for Scott and Graham, Strike without delay! Old Scott, he is brave and tough, Never despair ! And Uncle Sam is satisfied, To have him in the chair. Santa Anna said he'd capture him, With one decisive blow : If ho should dare an army raise, And march to Mexico ! But it seems lie changed bis notion, When the noble chief appear'd, And flogged him so outrageously. That General Pierce got scared ! Then gallant Whigs, &e. Now, lie's got another army, And he's leading on the van. And the foe he's got to pummel!. Is this frightened loky man ; Bui he'll do it without mercy. He will make him bawl and sing. O let me up old Chippewa, While Graham flogs the King ! Then gallant Whigs, &c. Yes, we're bound to beat the lokics. With the leader we have got, And we'll show the British party. That the people's choice is Scorr ' Let them chuckle till November, With their poor New Hampshire tool, Then we'll teach them to remember That the Whigs again must rule ! Then gallant Whigs, gallant \\ higs, March to the fray ; Strike for Scott and Graham, Strike without delay ; Old Soots, he is brave and tough, Never despair ! And Uncle Sam is satisfied, To have him in the chair 1 Why we Support Gen. Scott. Extract from the Speech of Judge Conrad at llarrisburg. Some forty-five years since, a youthful stu dent sat in the office of a sage of the Old Dominion. 15. Watkins Leigh, and pondered on the condition of his country and the duty that he owed her. The times were out of joint. The nations seemed loosened from their moorings, and wore driven and clashing on the waves of an almost universal war, like icebergs in a polar tempest. Our own bright land did not escape the storm. Her flag had been outraged on every sea; her ons dragged into slavery, and even forced to raise a paracidal arm against their country. War was inevitable, and at fearful odds—a war not only for honor and freedom, but for existence itself. Was it well that he, that gifted student, every pulse of whose heart • beat for his country, should nurse her schemes of tranquil ambition, when such a peril and such a duty invoked him? No; and his high brow glowed and his quick eye flashed, as he vowed himself, for lite or death, to the cause of his country. By that rosolvo was Wiufield Scott— •every faculty of his high na ture, every drop of his noble heart—dedica ted to the duties of patriotism. Never was a purer offering laid upon a holier altar ; and for that, that noble resolve and its nobler fulfilment, do 1 now claim your admiration and gratitude. The gathering clouds soon burst upon our country, blie struggled, hut her heart seem ed, for a time, faint, and her arm nerveless. Calamity followed calamity, until, in the base surrender of Hull, treason and reproach were added to her afflictions. Her heart swelled, her frame quivered with rage, and she shed hot tears of shame anjl sorrow. One patriot there was who determined that the gulf of shame, like that of Curtius, should be closed, though it entombed him; and he offered himself a sacrifice. In the desperate stxmggle on the heights of Queens town, death itself seemed to shrink from his daring. ' You are the target of every rifle— cover your uniform with this coat,' said Kearney to Scott. ' iCevcr ' was the reply ; [ ' I will die in my robes.' I derive this fact from General Kearney himself. Surrendered , by an overwhelming force, Scott thus addres sed his men. Can Greek or Roman story af -5 lord a parallel ? Hull's ignominious surren l der,' he said, ' must be retrieved. Let us, r then, die arms in hand. Our country de mands the sacrifice. The example will not . be lost. The blood of the slain will make heroes of the living. Who is ready fur the sacrifice?' Hull's surrender was retrieved— their gallantry did wipe out the stain—tho i first and last—of our country: but Scottbe ( | came the prisoner of the foeand, amid the perils and privations of such a captivity, sur rounded by British tyrants and Indian as sassins, he filled the first measure of his ! i sacrifices for his country. For this, I ask • . your votes for the patriot, and inquire, in his - words at Queenstown, 'ARE YOU READY?' , Again Scott was free—again at the head of r ! a gallant band of freemen—and again before a superior force of the enemy; for his have been no holiday achievements ; every laurel upon his brow has cost a death struggle. , Lundy'u Lano is one of the best fought bat i ties in history. The sun went down upon . the conflict, and the night wore on—the har vest moon struggling through the clouded heavens and fitfully lighting up the field* where death was the only reaper; and yet r volley answed volley, deafening Niagara, J and the clash of bayonets and the shrieks s and shouts of the combatants still made i night hideous. Scott was the very spirit of the battle-storm. His tall form was seen, crimson with blood, in every desperate eddy of the fight, and his clarion voice was heard ! above tho wildest conflict. He throttled vic | tory, and conquered against fate. And when • | covered with wounds supposed to be mortal, [ he fell, his last words were orders to charge^
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