f'32'S27NZZBUDLI`,a'oI
0Z 3 ,3 Vio
The West.
B y migic.LOlS B. ASIANS
ji tell' me of a brighter land;
acre- everlasting Summer smiles;
okra by Southein breezes fan
Encircling bright - and sunny isles, •
; I, oh! the West, the charming West,
, s ery livery (hest;
hively Spring,—with . floeting train,
Alumn sad; with waving-grain;
wintry storms and Summer showers,
e beauty of its wild wood bowers,
•
rolling rivers, proud and free,
TO ruo re than magic charms for me.
•
ey telt me of a fairer sky,
Where cloudless sunshine ever
Elrloy vales and mountains-high,'
7 Of dashing tills and flowery-della.
Oh ! I love these charming skies,
;',ere stormy clouds inconstant rise;
gorgeous shapes so wildly free,
• Ere mere majestic charmes for me
:he glOries that unchanging lie,
fair Nalia's glowing sky; •
Ind FloM's flowery plains of pride,
are lo'vvly than the mountain's side;
And for the dells so warm and low,
4s,
Chem streams with ceaseless musick fiSw—
Hive me`the loved and lovely West,
4 . 41 ever varying livery drest.
1
.;now that olden tales have flung
A charm around the eastern world.
.Where erst the early poets sung
Where Freedom first her flag unflrl'd.
:stud spell-bound memory lingers yet,
Round many a mouldering parapet;
nd o'er those cru'mbfing wells to mourn,
'ull oft with weeping Felig turn:
-But , yet, methinks, that Fancy's tear •
3hould warmer flow o'er ruins here;
For not when fell the warior brave,
use marble marked his lowly grave;
iha followers laid the chief to rest
- some lone valley of the West: -
-
So records. on the list of fame,
ai'maitell his deeds or name;
Vsaiht but the simple mounds arise,
t'olet - us where the warrior lies.
t
s ',! tell tne . not that Eastern themes
tAlone c n 'minstrel art inspire;
- know that here .. a poet's dream
, Are often warmed hy•holy fire.
What ! know ye not a theme for song
•
burn by every beeze along; .
anigh.not amid Castellon groves,
Ahem still‘poetic Fancy roves; _
- 7anigh not roundlona Parnassus' hill,
'There classic learninglingera still,
where lonian isles are flung
Like emeralds on the restless- wave;
.• :,•ese western winds have:never sung
A dirge o'er Genius' hallowed grave:
:her tell of-forests dark and deep,
Where many a daring deed was done,
e chieftains now in dreamless sleep,
•, Who erst have victories lost and won.'
L7,Ey linger round the mouldering walls .
;; . •:11' ruined cities in ate 'West,
thousands from their crumbling balls
In shades of dark oblivion rest;
should the musing poet's ear
;:ifuse such sadd'ning soundito hear,
fhey'll instant change the mournful theme,,
aI wake to life a brighter dream.
:Is dark-eyed Indian maid shall come
tee more to view her woodland home,
=tiles she pours her welcome song
^e breeze shall bear its notes along.
s ail tell of wealth, and pride, and power,
-flares exchanged in wild-wood bower,
hearts who pledged their truth till death,
blessed their fate wile' dying breath.
din the bounding deer shall roam
C AT flowry praries wild and free;
. fain the red man's forest home
Unfettered Fredom's home shall be.
seek not then the classic lore
Alone, for minstrel art and fire;
•ek not that gift in deeds of yord •
- Which Western scenes may well inspire:
N...t Fancy here delighted roves, •
And near could poets be More pleased
-an Wandering mid the htnycling groves
That crowned obr loved and lovOy West.
rietanii.n, Michigan. -
r
.
• Sti.gettifis by m— ."
-- --
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. ,
.. , 111 TOM ISOOD
, ''',7r.,_ ----i •
Vhen woman is in rags, and poor,
And sorrow, cold and hunger tease her,
;men would only listen.Moia
%
.
To that small voice that crieth--' Ease her l'
,
Jahout the guidance of a fticadt
.
Thoughlegal sharks and screws attack her,
~fin would only more attend , _• :
ro_that small voice that mirth-- Back her!'
: 6 h it would not be his fate
- 1.74 witness some despairing dropper
iirhanies' tide and, l come to late
4 1 0 that small voice that crieth—• Stnn her !'
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[From the N. Y.Tommercial Advertiser.]
Legend of the Lake,
AN'INDIAN TRADITION.
-About one mile and whalf West from
the village of Jamesville,--in the county
of Onondaga, is perhaps one of the
most singularly located bodies of water
in Western New • York. It is sivated
as it were in a vast natural well or
cavern, arid is usually called Green
Pond" or"" Green Lake." The banks
are composed of different strata of lime
stone. The Southern and Western
portions are nearly perpendicular, and
in many places projectseveral feet over
the waters beneath. The Northern
portion is not as steep, but - is too much
so to be easily-accessible. These hanks
are over 'two hundred feet high from
the surface of the-water, and are'riehly
decked upon all sides with evergreen
shrubs, the forms of which are beauti
fully reflected from the soft, green,
mirror-like surface of the waters which
they surround. The shape Qf this lake
is cireular, and alkTut -fifty rods in di
ameter. It has no outlet, but upon the
Eastern side is a low marshy ground
through which water might flow, but
does not. From the brink of the lake
the shore in many places seems to be
shelving beneath, and every where it
is extremely abrupt. The interior of
this vast basin is lined with a greenish
white marl ; the trees which have fallen
into it are whitened thereby. In sever
al places near the centre, a lead has
been lowered by one hundred yards of
line, without reaching bottom, and
within fifty feet of the shore the water
is a hundred and: fifty feet deep. The
waters towards the bottom are said to
' be highly charged with sulphuretted
hydrogen, and ate, usually at an even
temperature of about 48° F. Although
the waters at the surface have no very
disagreeable taste, yet when drawn
from 'a considirable depth they are
scarcely endurable.- In ancient times
i the path leading -from Onondaga to
Oneida, the one used as the principle
highway of the Indians, passed close
along the Southern bank of tins lake.—
With this distinguished lodality is con
nected a singular Indian tradition, the
cause of which gave rise to the name
still retained by the Onondagas, and
may be worth preserving. An abler
hand might give it a dress and coloring
to make it as interesting and enduring
.as any of Roman, Grecian or Scottish
fiction. Sometimes the, strictest, closest
adherence to truth, in the relation of- a
story, furnishes the strangest • theme
imaginable for centemplation, and ex
cites our greatest wonder and astonish.
meut. Again, a description of scenes
really enacted frequently becomes so
racked and distorted that the face of
truth would - blush at the recital.
Of the truth of the tale about to be '
related we do not pretend "to vouch.—
But that it is a tradition which has been
handed down from generation to genera
tion among a portion at least of the
Onondagas is true, - and that it has been
so transmitted fora long series of years,
and •is even now superstitiously believ
ed by them, is equally true. • It has
been related in substance as follows :
Upon a certain day in the seventh
moon of a year long since passed away
and forgotten, at that delightful season
when the ears begin to form upon the
growing corn, after the days have at
tained their utmost length, and the sun
pours his scorching rays most•power-,
fully upon the earth, an Indian woman
set out from the castle of the Oneidas,
whither she had been on a visit to her
friends. to go to her' own home at On
ondaga. It was indeed to her a toil
some and wearisome journey, far in ad
dition Ito a considerable burden. she
was necessarily encumbered witfi her
first bolo, a beautiful and exceedingly 7
interesting child of about eight modals
Old. La-que was one who could boast
of her descent from one of the most in
fluential chiefs of the confederacy--and
her dress and that of the darling one
betokened the wealth as welt as the
rank of the possessors. She had pur
sued her lonely walk, bearing her pre
cious charge, through 'the- heat of the
day, which had been oppressive. As
the sun lowered toward 'the Western
horizon. and the welcome shado of
evening madeits approachi.she arrived
at the bank of the lake. • Being 'very
Much fatigued with her day's journey,
and the moss-covered rock, presenting
so intiting . a place for rest, she;' , alutost
involuntarily yielded•to the temptation
Of enjoying' it. She loosened the band
(to which was attached hei burden,)
from her forehead. and her-child care
fully slid from her shoulderel. She
placid it as it was. lashed , firmly•to its
board, against the root of a tall -Iwide-
~ . •
Regardless:Dinunettitionfeitrm: an.. 4 Quarter.—fl ap:. MITZI:.
_ . •
-1 2c:M`' 15;1L9L. 3121.Z. 7 47(1M,11 1 3USSUPir9 IPhlo9 .41,W . 111117d 1300
,aeop.
spread elm. La-que moved a few steps ;.
she turned and gazed in ecstacy Upon
the ',object of her- care, quietly sat down,
and in. a. reclining posture, eased her
weary limbs.
Her head rested gracefully upon" her
hand, and her elbow upon a mess-c 0..-
vered rock. • She listlessly mused upon
the charming appearance •.of the placid
-waters of the -lake below, and on the
gladness her husband would manifest
at meeting her again, and'his joy to see
and ' fondle the pledgeof their mutual
love, and at their safe return. While
these things revolved in her mind her
darling one seemed to partake of its mo
ther's feelings and happineis, for it
smiled playfully as it caught the watch
ful eye of its doating parent. She fond
ly caressed it and again; relapsed intd
her previous - mood of contemplation.--
After a while she became refreshed by
her resting; and had partially solved in
her- mind to resume her journey, when
a slight rustling in the adjoining bushes,
and a sharp cracking •of the dry brush
wood, roused her from her revery.—
She suddenly started from her couch
and cast her eves wildly around her. to
discover from. whence the sounds pro
ceeded. She feared they might pro
ceed from some ferocious animal of the
forest, seeking an opportunity to de
stroy her harmless offspring. Her
alarm speedily. subsided wheh she ob
served standing at a short distance from
her a beautiful woman, richl'y habited
in the most splendid and gorgeous at
tire. She stood in the path upon which
La-que had come, and looked wistfully
at her. La-que at once • became ex
ceedingly interested in the fascinating
appearance of the stranger, and she felt
a thrill of satisfaction as she kindly wel
comed the stranger to her presence.
The sun had set, and twilight caused
the surrounding objects to become still
more beautiful to the eye than when
seen in the strong light of day. "Come
to me, my sister," said La-que, " it is
pleasant in this sequestered spot to
meet with a companion. You appear
to be fatigued with this day's exertions.
Take rest I pray you, and we will soon
pursue our journey together ; my home
is not ' far distant; &generous welcome
shall greet you at otir humble cabin."
The stranger.- caut iously advanced to
where the smiling infant of La-que lay
unconscious of harm. Her step was
soft and noiseless. Her eyes seemed
to charm by their bewitching glances,
and her smiles were flattering and re
runless. She looked earnestly and in
quiringly: at the e lovely infant against
thAl: tree, and then unbelted her own
uthich had not before been observed by
La•que ; she placed it beside the other;
and turning to La-que she said,--My
friend, I have come a long and sorrow
ful journey from a country lying far to
the South-; my misfortunes have driven
me hither. My strength has well nigh
failed me. lam (she continued faintly)
a princess, the only danghter.of a rich
' and
,powerful king.
" But I have displeased my royal fa
ther. He continually seeks to destroy
my darling child ; its brave father in
his wrath -he hath slain. His anger is
not abated, his revenge is not satisfied.
Nothing can divert him from his put
pose; or cool his- passions but the blood
of this innocent child.. *I find no rest
no peace for my soul. Hope has near
ly expired within me. I:am desolate
arid oppressed in spirit. lam an out
cast from my country, my kindred and
my home. For myself 1 care nothing.
But for the safety of the precious trea
sure entrusted to my keeping my efforts
are directed. I know not (she continu
ed) but the spies of my father are upon
my track. They may ,be even now
listening to my voice, or have an eye
1 upon my movements. haVe hitherto
exercised the utmost-caution to escape
their snares, and as yet..thanks be to
the great spirit.-I have escaped." •
Her very voice possessed a charm
and melody: so 'sweet that La-que .
I thought her still speaking after she had
concluded.. But speedily recovering
herself, - she expressed- herself as one
sincerely - - inn - eta - 00p the stranger's
behalf. Her heart seemed to -melt in
sympathy for the :sufferings of - the
wanderer as her mind dwelt upon the
cause of her 'distress. "My friend;"
said the - stranger.•" you can, if. you will,
afford me- great relief," and her counte
nance beamed . with a placid her
eyes sparkled with delight and ,penetra
ted the inmost-recesses.- of the heart of
La-que, who. - replied" . Say -on,- toy
sister; nothing . on:.. My part shall - be
wanting to make you happy." I"lana
rejoiced," rejoined the' stranger,," to
find-a friend --so kind and Obliging- in
this-hour of thradveraity. it .400thes
my sorrowing heart and ' - cheers my
drooping spirits. Your kindness •al-
most invites me to accept the boon I
ant -about to ask. The customs Of 'oar
nations do not• forbid the -exchange 'of
our children.. Mine : cannotlong escape
the vigilance, of my persevering father
if it remains with me. , With you it
would' be safe:: '.4Therftake4 beseech
you, 'my child-nd nurse it as your own.
I am not - afraid to entrust it-with you,
although an entire stranger. The em
blem of our . tribe is pictured on his
breast. It will never fade—l will take
yours and return from whence I came.-
No malace can be brought to bear against
it: It will be adopted - as one of our
tribe, and will be safe from harm. Do
this and we shall both be happy. Al
ter my father's wrath has subsided-, I
.will return and claim my own and re
store yours to you. Think well of my
words. Look yonder to - our children
as they stand lashed '
to their boards
against the tree; yours is- well formed
and beautiful to look upon, its apparel
is well'airanged and elegant. Turn now
to mine."
La-que drew near and beheld one o
the most glittering siihts she ever. saw.
The eyes of the stranger's infantspark
led like diamonds, its dress seemed
covered with a profusion of the richest
gems, and even the board upon which
it was fastened seemed inwrought with
gold and precious stones, and the bow
in front appeared iltu silver covered
with the richest wampum. The daz
zling raiment of the child, its beseech
ing looks, together :with the sympathy
which had already filled, the heart of
La-que, tempted her in an unguarded,
unfortunate moment, to consent to the
exchange. The natural affection ofthe
mother was lost fur the instant in the
specious appearance of the stranger's
child. "It is mine, then," said the
stinger, and she kind y thanked her,
saying *. it shall always be well with
your child—take no thought for its wel
fare—it will ever be happy." So say
ing, she twirled the child of La-que ;
it lighted upon her shoulders, she bade
adieu, and was soon lost from sight in
the darkness of the forest.
-As she turned, La-que thought she
discovered an uncommon harshness
about her features. A fiendish smile
escaped her, and a sort of triumphant
step bore her front the view of La-que,
who not 'till now realized her uncon
trollable situation. A suppressed cry
from her own loved one drew out all
the tender feelings of the mother. But
an attempt to restore things to their
former situation was now too late. Be
ing obliged - to make a virtue of necessi
ty, she sorrowftitly raised, the stranger
child to her bosom. it' seemed to be
somewhat changed from its appearance
when she first saw it. Still the unwary
La-que suspected no artifice. She ra
ther reluctantly placed the stranger
burden upon her back, as was the cus
tom of her people. She carefully
wrapped the ample folds of her blanket
around the object of her care, and com
menced mournfully her joourney home
ward;
The cry of her own dear child rang
piercingly without cessation in I , er ears.
She had proceeded but a shorttlistauce,
when she felt an unusual scratching,
gnawing and tearing at her back ; her
blanket was drawn from her shoulders,
'her dress beneath was Completely dis
ordered, and her efforts to calm the
disturber of her quiet were unavailir.g,
Every movement more and more per
plexed La-que and added to the sorrows
of her heart : • She 601 - persevered and
tried to maintain her equanimity. She
finally, could bear no . longer, and
carefully laid down! the burden upon
the ground. The precious ornaments
had all - disappeared, End instead of the
smiling, harmless infant, which she
supposed she had embraced, and for
which in a.thoughtless moment she had
exchanged her own dear one, lay .a
sickening, disgusting, almost unnamea
ble Object-,— , a young! alligator !
With an air of ablOrrence• La-que.
I thrust the vile thing from her. — In her
effort to disengrge herself andirom
fright, she fellexhausted and insensible
to the ground.' I-low long before she I
recovered herself and became sensible
of her situation. she . could not tell:—
But the - stars shone brightly, and Beier
al hours most have passed away.' 'AI.
ter a return: of conseiousnesi, she look
ed wildly:\around for the . hideous ob
ject she, had cast off. Bet no Vestige
of it or its' beautiful covering eon - ht - be
seen.' 'She vacantly.; mid in the most
despondiag*agony retraced - hersteps: to
the bank of the lake, and inikailingatt4
moaning_` passed, the remainder of_ the
calling piteouily7in :all' the, grief
and , desolation of a
. bereaved . mother's
heart for , her'darling. = Often niotild.she
listen-, for r minutes at a-time. - with :the
most intense anxiety, to catch the sound
of the cry of her lost .and beloved little
one. •At Aimee 'she fancied ihe heard
its wailing voice—When brightening op,
and silently listening to beassured of
the truth, no sound could be heard—her
very. soul became lost in the agariy of
despair—it almost died within her and
what added to ihe'acuteness of her feel
ings, she had nO one to reproach but
herself. •
'She- paced the ._bare rock .in all the
gloom of settled melancholy till the ris
ing sun gilded 'with its mellow rays "the
dark forest around her. Shesat
ously,sibd-"motirnfully down, her cheeks
were bedewed with tears, she-clasped
her head between her hands, and ii
sighs and sobs gave vent to her sorrows:
No sound of living. thing could she hear
but herself. No sigh but the soft echo
and the gentle breeze. The dark - deep
gulf. below Would have been appalling
to a rational mind, hut to her it seethed
pleasant and inviting. Her own child
had been -snatched from her by .treaelte
ry and deceit, and she was inconsolable
at the loss. She could make no atone
ment to her husband, and no satisfacto
ry excuse couldshe render to herselfor
friends. As a last resort for the calm
ing es-her sorrows, she leaned over the
yawning chasm and gazes wildly into
the abyss below. The slightest move
would have precipitated her. into the
fathomless waters beneath. As her
arms were raised ready to take-the fatal
leap, she turned her eyes imploringly
toward heaven's high arch and asked
torgivness of the Indian's God for the
rash act she - was about to commit. A
soft voice, as of a ministering angel,
gently wooed her ear and bade her
"LIVE." She eagerly cast her eyes
about to see from whence the sound,
but all was still. Receiving this as a
command from the Great Spirit, she
relinquished the unhallowed design of
destroying herself, ,and at once deter
mined to wend her cheerless way to
ward home. Though thedistance was
comparatively short, to her it seemed
almost interminable. She revolred-the
circumstances of the preceding day and
night over and over again in her mind,
and still no bright spot lighted her drea
ry prospect. There appeared but one
way, to address the subject of her ca
lamities to her friends, and that she re
solved to do with boldness. -Summon
ing all her resolution asshe approached
the door of her cabin, with a trembling
hand she lifted the latch and passed in.
She could no longer control her agoniz
ed feelings, but burst at once into a
flood of tears. Her husband, not ob
serving the child, immediately guessed
at the cause of her distress. Becoming
ton - died with her grief his feelings rea
dily assimilated with hers, and he used
his earnest endeavors to console her'
and quiet her agitated mind. She final
ly resumed her usual equanimity and
complacency, and related minutely the
circumstances of her bereavement as
they had transpired. He kindly listen
ed, and instead of charging her with
the least blame, most tenderly excused
her and reconciled her by declaring his
belief that it truly all must be the work
of the wicked spirit, and that the good
prophet of their tribe could tell them
what means could be resorted to to re
cover the lost child.
A ray of hope instantly •shot across
the bereaved mother's mind, and in the
transport of the moment, she thought
she could realize the child restored.—
; No time.was lost in consulting the ora
cle of the nation—the aged, the illus
trious prophet. Said he, await with
patience three days, I' will then tell you
what to do." The three days wore
heavily and slowly away. They seem
ed to them, as it were,, an age. The
grief of the disconsolate ones was ex;
pressed by continued They
perseveringly refused all proffered coin
fort and consolation. At the expire- .
lion of the allotted time, the atixious
pair were waiting at the door of the
prophet.'
They were bade to sit down and lis
ten attentively -to .his words. Said he,
was the wiaked spirit 0-neee-hob
hugli-noci• in the disguise of a. beautiful
Woman who•has deceived you and la•
ken away your child. But -the Great
Spirit who
_rules and directs all things
has heard its . ery anddeprivecl the wick
ed one of his power ever it. He'sew
thoanguishof the mother's heart.... He
has. sheltered her child ,from harm.—
He has - taken_ it tit. ,the fbosin . Of the
rike---thein you e:in
.seek it, but there
it must , It' is' now 'warded by
anonoringus . serpent., placed there by
the Great.
_Spiri t...,w ho continually has
his eye , upon, it., No harm ran at
present come near It-4i is Safe.' Go;
andiPon'the high bank attentively
ten; you will hear.-itsnries at the cetitre
of the-waters. ,They,:will faintly echo,
.Z 4 : 5
IME
EMI
1 1
(DV_ ca.o. cool - awl= a trom,
through the treed and , quietly-die upon
your ears. Believe.mei,and'aly words
will prove true.. , Nothing,can turn.the
eye or the attention of the serpent from
the. Child unless you attempt to reclaim
it.
,Think not to.get -it:biek; the first
efforts- you make toward: recovering it,
your lives will pay for your temerity.
you faithfully do as I have told
you
,and strictly follow my directions.
your child will - always live. - It wilt
soon cease its cries and enter straitway
uppn. a life of joy. and pleasure. -11 wilt
ever enjoy richly the, favor of the Great
Spirit and be happy. : Again charge,
you remember, my words. The Good
Spirit •"-Ha-wah=ne-ngh "..requirei-yOu
yearly to - Offer a - quantity of good to-:
bacco-as an oblation andsatisfaction for
his
_guardian care. Stand upon_ the
bare . shelf-rockabove and cast the savo
ry _
ry offering the sparkling_ waters
below. ' Tile. trst time you do this
(and-it must be aoonythe great-serpent
will retire and be no more seen. But
if you,,or your children after you, re
fuse; or neglect to cowply wiih' this re
qUirement in any succeeding year at
this season when the leaves begin to
fall, the wicked one will return and
your child, will be destroyed. Go,and
as_ o y s o p u er."
regard my saying, so will you
-p
' 'Faithful to the counsels of the pro
phet tbey proceeded directly to the lake,
and certainly as he had predicted they
beheld an enormous monster coiled, up
in a most threatening attitude. His
huge spiral folds as they enlarged-from
the centre covered an area of several
rods.' His eye vide not diverted by
their approach from the centre of the
lake. They cautiously advanCed, and
turned a listening ear to the •silver•like
waters. Judge of their joy as the:well
known voice of their own darling child
greeted their ears. In the transport of
the moment La-que suddenly urged her
steps.towards the awful precipice, for
getting for the instant the warninvoice
of the prophet. She thought only of
rushing unbidden to embrace the, pecu
liar object of her affection. Scarcely
had her purpose manifested itself be
fore the monster raised his head in an
ger.
He hissed violently in his rage, and
madly threshed the surrounding earth.
The very air seemed heated with his
breath, and smoke and fire issued from
his open mouth in terrific fury: They
turned. away. horror-stricken and amaz
ed. Their very souls shuddered with
in them,--sfiame and regret-for a mo
ment filled their awe-stricken hearts,
and they willingly hastened to do the
simple bidding of the prophet. A large
bundle of tobacco with which they had
provided themselves was, ceremonious
ly cast into- - the .lake.. It seemed to
spread itself slowly over the whole.sur
face of the waters, whose. colors.gradu
ally assumed a dark green appearance.
The beholdersllooked intently and with
'astonishment - while the operation pro
ceeded. They felt a consciousness
that the, whole had - been devised by
the : Great Spirit, and was the work
and operation of his hand. 'They were
on the point of retiring, when looking
to the place where the serpent had lain,
he was no where to be seen, He had
unobserved silently disappeared, but
the print of his place for a long time
afterward was plainly to be seen.
After these events La-que and her
husband returned to their homes happy
and contented, and many a year after.
this they regularly visited this remarka
ble spot and presented iheir annual ob
lation of tobacco,—from which circum
stance this lake derives its name—
, " a i-y ah-k oph.!*—signify
Ad zcctla tobaeco. :In after years the
children and-relatives 'of these favored
individuals were charged with the im
portant trust of continuing this singular
practice and of solemnly transmitting
the sacred rite to their posterity for
ever. The custom was religiously ob
served to- the time when the - whites
came l° settle upon the lands. in the vi,
chilly. since which it hap been dispirit
tinned. But the story of La-que and
her child will not soon be:roit from the
traditions of-the Onondagas..." ,
A GOOD Excuss.—“John - -said a Ped
agogue the other - day--what's detained
you, how came you so rate to school V?
..Well Sit; Iliad hot soup for dinner,
and.had to wait for rt,to cool."
'.-Take your seat E your excuse is suf.
licient." '
FFSIAL7; 1101iCe the
advertisement ofa Bachelor of Green 13r.y.
J. M. W.., for - esleepipg partners' to come
irefthererand — enter- into' .egretable co
partnership pith the young `gentlemen
of that ilk. EaStPrn papqrs, says.the , ott.,
vertiscmeat, 'are requested, to
, . "...
,2,.!
/I
Mao CU