11
v©Willral
i=llMi
UOVY.LI7M,4IB
WEDNESDAY , ItPTEMBEII 10, 1845
TOR NORTH Basses Cirritt.—ln another column,
we insert a letter from the Philadelphia:, correspondent
of the Washington Union, giving an interesting descripr
lion of the North Branch Canal,—the vast amount of
business it will transact, and the extensive markets it
pa open for the mineral wealth of Pennsylvania. The
writer is evidently well aware of the magnitude and ins
..rtanee of thl work.
[For the Bradford Reporter.]
Basses. EDS.—Your correspondent Benevole must
tun . ver y high opinion of his eloquence, to suppose
that I am to be frightened away from lawful enjoyments,
by such an address as that in your paper of the 20th ult.
It is'essy to call hard names ; but the world is too old to
be scared intrit the doctrine of total abstinence in thisway.
It may be will for those who want the means of a gen
tlemanly life to avoid both brandy and cigars; or if one
is tea weak to keep himself within the bounds of tempo•
mice, he may as well choose the safer course,—but my
hberties are not to be abridged. Benevole talks of evil
spirits: I know two kinds of them; the one poor liquors.
which I never touch;' the other called the blues, which a
single stilling will always put to flight. Thus armed I
am not afraid to walk in any street that he can name.
I am at a loaf's to understand why your correspondent
shouW ulttress me alone: Can he have so little =pain
unee:with this borough and neighborhood to iuppose
that one can be just singled out to beer his lecture I He
must be singularly misinformed as to the progress of the
so-called temperance cause, if he is thus mistaken.—
Young men are not so ready to give up their liberties as
he may suppose. Reason, I trust, we ,shall always be
gill to bear: but vituperation and caricature we cannot
treat with much respect. Very truly yours,
[For the Bradford Reporter.]
The Fourth of July.
The gloriouiTatarth, when liberty threw off her swad
dling clottd sprung a Hercules from the cradle of ,
existence in this new world, and proclaimed in thunder
tones, to the despots upon an hundred thrones, in the i
old, that here, the tree of liberty should flourish , and its
heavenly fruits gladden her nonspr ever.—The day, the ,
occasion, always carries my mind back amid the dread
scenes of the revolution, when foeman met foeman, steel
I, steel upon the battle field, and unprotected innocence
net her fate from the gory tomahawk of the red man.
I leave the battle-field - , to linger a few moments,
around the continental congress! Men of iron nerve are .
there; rues who fell the responsibility of the awful trust
committed to their charge—no noise, no impetuous out
break of feeling, bat the deep dread calm, which proceeds
the bursting forth of rivers of fire from some mighty vol
cano, which are destined to overwhelm countries, and
rock kingdom's to their centres. .110 w changed the
scene! The demagogue occupies the place of the sage--
-and revelry and mirth, that of fear and trembling. The,
days that tried men's souls have passed away—the gib
meatsrolled in blood " are no more, and the millions
are now enjoying the boon such scenes have bequeathed
them. M. A. G.
SPRINGFIELD, Pa.
IFrom the Democratic Review.]
The Boy and his Angel.
lip SI:JW44!
'' Oh, mother, I've been with an angel to-day !
I was out all alone, in the forest at play,
Chasing after the butterflies, watching the bees ; -
And hearing the woodpecker tapping the trees ;
Sa I played, and I played, till, so weary I grew,
1 sat down to rest in the shade of a yew,
While the birds sang so sweetly highup on its top,
1 held my breath, mother, for fear they would stop !
Thus a long while I sat, looking up the sky,
And watching the clouds that went Many by,
When I heard a'voice calling just over my head,
That sounded as if' come, oh brother!' it said;
And there, right up over the top of the tree,
Oh mother, an angel was beck'ning to me !
i •'And'brother!' once more, ' come, oh brother!' he cried!
And Reason light pinions close down by my side!
And mother, oh, never was being so bright
As the one which then beamed on my wondering sight ;
His fact was as fair as that delicate shell, .
His hair down his shoulders. in•long ringlets fell.
While the eyes testing on me, so melting with love,
Ware as soft and as mild as the eyes of a dove !
Aed renthow dear mother I felt not afraid,
As he Meld es my brow he•mreaaingly laid,
An d lildsPeed Be softly And gently to me,
Come, brother, the angels are waiting for thee !'
Atd then on my forehead he tenderly pressed
duds itisies,- o h mother, they thrilled thro' my breast,
As swiftly as lightning leaps down from on high,
When the chariot of God rolls along the black sky!
While his breath, floating round me, as soft as the breeze
Thst played round me and rustled the trees ;
At int on ty bead a deep blessing he poured,
Then plumed his bright pinions and upward he soared !
And up, up he went, through the blue sky, so far,
He seemed to float there like a glittering star,
Set still my eyes followed his radiant flight,
Tin, lon from the num, he passed from my sight!
Theo,Oh, how I feared, as I caught the last gleam
Of his nnishing form, it was only a dream !
When soft voices whispered once more from the trees
Tome, brother, the angels are waiting for thee!" • •
Oh
pile gre w th a t =other, and heavy her beast, "
Far she knew her fair boy from this world most depart !
Thu his bright locks moat fade in the dust of the tomb,
Ere the autumn wind withered the summer's rich bloom!
O h , how his young footsteps she watched day by' day,
As his delicate form wasted slowly away,
Tin the soft light of heaven seemed shed o'er Lls fare,
And he crept up to die in her loving embrace !
"Oh chap me, deer mother; close, odor, to your breast,
,fln that gentle pillow vain let me flit I
Let toe once more gaze op to that dear loving eye, .
And then, oh, methinks. can wildiegly die
Now his s Emotes, mother ! oh quickly f for see
'The bright, blessed angels= `waiting floe me !' r
o h, wild w 8.5 the anguish that swept then' ter bread,
. • . ~ •,"1 ;•.,: •;':,.: ' i L.' % -, 14. • , : ... i., ; ,',...., J . , ?,;;".! :?-.. ,i...;,,, .--:.•,,,:',-- -..11 L", ,, 1 IT,;."I .1 :; ; !:',.,..'.;.' ','.., '' ••',.., -. , 5.S ',..". t....,; , .. fr .; ,s 4 ~.. •;„ ~ .1,.., -e , .
•.!;i1; 7 1:; : ii1.1 i ' ASS 1U 1 - i. TA 0 . 1.
I ' "i'. "
.i . :', , 41..:,.4... , - , .07: 1,,,,,, - , - ;.,“ 1,1 ,9,. , .._} t .., , r'''..l i.::6 ,‘...``` ii -- - -- ; - ,0.7 ..,, ;..0., ..., ;1. 1,, , ,;-;7,,i ! ..,..C;
...,..;,....- ~..
---
..—.- _
. .. .
. , . .
. . . .
. .
. . . '
, . .. .
. ? . . .
. .
... .
. ' : .e. ; '...; , %r .f,L.li , - •..., -
•:. $ -. ..
. .
F .•
. .......
_ ui.‘,..
.. „,,.:....,....,
-J.' _......
. . . .. . .
. ..
.. . .. . ,
As the long, frantic kiss on his pale lips she pressed !
And felt the vain search of his soft, pleading eye.
As it strove to meet he?sr ere the fair boy could die,
"I'llee you not; mother, for darkness and night '
Are hiding your dear loving face from my sight,—
But I hear your low sobbings—dear mother, good-bye!
The angels are ready to bear me on high!
I will wait for you there,—but oh, tarry not long,
Least grief at yciur absence should sadden my song!"
He teased, and his bands meekly clasped on his breast,
While his sweet face sank down on his pillow of rest,
Then, closing his eyes now all rayless and dim,
Went up with the angels that waited for him !
[Correspondence of the Washington Union.)
PHILADELPIIIi, Aug. 27, 1845.
Meeting the other day, in this city with
some friends from . the interior of the State,
who had been brought here to aid in the elec
tion of officers and in the organization of the
North Branch Canal ,Company, I have been i
led to some reflections upon the internal im
provements of Pennsylvania, and their impor
tance in a national point of view.
I may fairly claim, en passant, that this
Slate is entitled to the credit of being a leader
in the great march of public improvement
which has taken place in this country ; for
more than eighty years since, while a mere
province of the crown of England, were the
first movements made to introduce the system
within her borders. It is an interesting his
torical fact, not generally known, that applica
tion was made to the provincial legislature of
Pennsylvania for authority to open a commu
nication, by water, between the Schuylkill and
Susquehanna rivers, and a survey made of the
route as early as the year 1762. In 1791, the I I
Schuylkill and Susquehanna," now known
as the triton " canal," was commenced. and
one of the western sections completed and
opened for navigation in 1794. There are
numerous enactments to be found, showing
that our legislators were awake to the impor
tance of the subject of internal improvement
prior to the year 1800. David Rittenhouse,
the Pennsylvania " farmer boy," and practical
mechanic of riper years, who learned to read
Newton's " Principle " in what he termed his
I" idle hours," and who was as justly entitled
to the credit of discovering the method of
fluxions as either Newton or Leibnitz,—David
Rittenhouse assisted in surveying a none very
nearl the same .1, that occupied me pre
' s , •llt lEnirrJ7:ll.( lilt. between NilladcliAlla and
' Pittsburg, He reported •• the whole distance
of a navigation by water between the two
places to be 420 miles, and a portage of eigh
teen miles at Conemaugh." This excellent
man and eminent philosopher died as early as
1796.
JrTEYI&
It was not, boa ever, until the 4th day of
July, 1.826—a fit day to commence so glorious
an enterprise—that our State entered upon
what is commonly termed our present system
of internal improvements ; which, for extent,
magnitude, and utility. will stand. when com
pleted, wholly unrivalled in moilerd times.—
Between six and seven hundred miles of these
canals, and nearly two hundred miles of rail
way, have already been finished and opened
by the State ! In this estimate I include none
of the numerous works of companies and indi
viduals: But she found hersell,itnto or three
years since. unable to go on with the exten
sive projects she had undertaken. They had
been so located as to penetrate all those por
tions of the commoncralth, which, from their
known fertility. or great mineral wealth, seem
ed to require such aid in the development of
their resources ; and thus.many (by some it is
tho't too many) lines were commenced at once.
When the State was obliged to suspend. mea
sures were immediately taken for carrying out
the unfinished works; by invoking individual
enterprise and capital.
The Erie Extension canal, connected with
the Beaver Division, unites the Ohio river, at
the town of Bearer. with Lake Erie, at the ex
cellent harbor of Erie; in. a distance of 135
miles. That portion called the Beaver Divis
ion (thirty miles) had been completed by the
State, and a comparatively small amount of
work remained unfinished on the Erie Eaten
'
'ion. This was taken hold of by some enter l i
-
prising capitalists, and the whole line is now
in profitable operation. The Wiconisco feed
er, also unfinished, has been undertaken by a
company, who, like those engaged in the Erie
Improvement, will no doubt reap a rich reward
for their expenditure. This feeder is twelve
miles in length, and unites the Lykens Valley
railroad, trout the coal region. with the Penn
sylvania canal at Duncan 's island, on the Sus
qttehanna. Still more recently, the unfinished
portion of the line on the North Branch of
the St.;quehatina has become the object of in
dividual enterprise, and will open. in point of
mineral wealth, one of the richest regions of
the State—ay. I had almost said, of the world.
•And it is not more rich in mineral wealth than
in its hardy, industrious, and sterling democra
cy. Of this last enterprise, and its great pub
lic utility. I had intended inore particularly to
speak when I embarked on the subject of
canals in this letter.
An inspection of the map will show the
Tide-water canal, commencing at Havre de
Grace, on the Chesapeake bay, and ending at
Columbia, on the Susquehanna river—a dis
tance of forty-five miles. Here it connects
with the central division' of the Pennsylvania
canal, which continues up the river to Dun
can's island. . At this place it branches off, up
the Juniata,-to Pittsburg, in one direction, and
ascends the valley of the Susquehanna in an
other. - The latter is the route we are a pre
sent considering. It is completed up the
North. Branch of the Susquehanna to Pittston,
eight miles above Wilkesbarre. in the beauti
ful and classic vale of Wyoming. From
Pittston to the northern boundary line of Penn-
sylvania. it is more than two-thirds finished—,
almost three millions of, dollars having .been
expended upon the works : this distance is
ninety &ilea. 't'hence optticChemurig river
to Elmira, New York, is some fifteen miles
further, • also unfinished. At Elmira, is the
Chemung canal, constructed by .the State of
New York, running (o the &Linable. The
PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD. COUNTY, PA., BY , E., S. GOODRICH
,i3c :SON.
". kid ABOLO.Bi OF DENUNCtATIOfi V.SY *FR."
lake itself is then navigated about forty miles,
and connected from near Geiaeva with that
great work of De Win Clinton, the Erie canal,
at Montezuma. So that, it will be perceived,
when the section.between,Pittston and Elmira
shall be finished, there will be, thromgh the
heart of the two great States of Pennsylvania
and New. York, a completed uninterrupted line
of internal navigation between Chesapeake bay
and Lake Erie, Lake Ontario, Lake Chore
Plain, and their tributaries; or.• as I ;night
;say, between the Chesapeake and the whole
Western teorld I . „
Now, as exhibiting a most striking view of
the rapid progress our country is making , in
the race-of general prosperity, let us trace again ;
,the line of internal improvements I have point- ,
ed out, and mark. in detail, its numerous con-,
nexions, and the immense space over, which.
they spread, like arteries in the human frame.
diffusing life. and energy., throughuut • a great
and prosperous country. • . .
From Havre de Grace, on the bay, up the
valley of the Susquehanna. to the northern
boundary line. of Pennsylvania, is some three
hundred -miles. - From this to Lake Erie,
through the Seneca lake and the Erie canal'. is
two hundred and sixty miles more—making,
in round numbers, a line of communication be
tween Chesapeake : - ay and Lake Erie, five
hundred and sixty miles in length I Intersect
ing and lateral to this line, on our way north
ward from the bay, we have, first, at Colum
bia. the railway to Philadelphia, eighty-one
miles in length. 'ben, at-Middletown, we
find the Union canal connected with the
Schuylkill river at Reading, eighty-two miles.
From Reading, the Schuylkill navigation, ex
tending some sixty miles further, makes the
line complete from the Susquehanna river to
Philadelphia. To resume our route : From
Middletown. up the valley of the Susquehanna,
we Next have, at Harrisburg, the railway
through a part of the fine old county of Lancas
ter. to the city of Lancaster, thirty-five miles.
Crossing to the other side of the Susquehanna
from Harrjsburg, is the Cumberland Valley
railway (partly finished) to Chambersburg,
fifty miles. Still upward, at Duncan's island, ,
is the line extending up the Juniata. and acrossl
the Alleghany to Pittsburg, two hundred ai,d •
fifty-eight miles. At Northumberland diverges,
the West Branch canal, running almost to the ,
' geographical more ot the State, seventy-three
• miles. A t W ilkesharre we meet with the'
. works of the Lehigh Navigation Company,
which. crossing the Dela%% are river at Easton,
unite with the newly improved Morris canal,
and make the chat() perfect from Wilkesbarre.
on the North Branch of the Susquehanna. to
the city of New York, one hundred and nine
ty-four miles. At Towanda, Bradford county,
a railway some twenty miles in length pene
trates a rich bituminous coalfield, with eaten-'
sive beds of iron ore intermingled, like those
at Pittsburg. At the State line, near Athens,
crossing the line Of navigation we have been
pursuing, is the New York and Erie railway,
four hundred and forty-six miles. This point
is about eget-distant between the two extremi
ties of that great work—Dunkirk, on Lake
Erie, and Tappan bay, on Hudson river. At
Elmira there is a connexion, by canal and rail
way. with the bituminous coalfields of Tioga
county, - Pennsylvania, fifty miles. From El
mira. our route proceeds by the Chemung ca
nal, (which should be enlarged to accommo
date the immense trade that will crowd through
it when the remainder of the line is completed)
to the Seneca lake, twenty-three milesr This
deep, narrow lake, stretches some forty miles
thi - ough a beautiful country, precisely in the
requisite direction ; and boats are easily trans
ported upon it to its outlet at Geneva ; thence,
partly through this outlet, and partly through
an artificial route. (which is also connected
with Cayuga lake.) to Montezuma, on the Erie
canal.
From Montezuma to Albany is two hundred
and five miles—to Buffalo, one hundred and
fifty-nine miles. These two distances make
up the whole line of the Erie canal, connecting
Lake Eriemnd the Hudson ; and may also be
embraced in the lateral and minute survey we
are taking. Between Albany • and Buffalo
(not overlooking the fact that Albany is united
to Boston by an excellent line of railways) we
first meet, nine miles from Albany, on our way
northward, the Champlain canal, extending to
Whitehall. on Lake Champlain, seventy-six
miles. Then at Rome, the Black Ricer canal
unites with the Erie--running eighty-six miles
into the northern interior of New York. At
Syracuse. the Oswego canal diverges to Lake
Ontario. thirty-six miles. Passing Montezu
ma, the point where the route to Chesapeake
hay unites with the Erie canal—we next, at
Rochester, tinil the Genessee Valley canal,
extending to Olean point, on the Allegheny ri
ver, one hundred and twenty-two miles. W hen
we arrive at Lake Erie, the almost endless na
vigation of the treat northern lakes is before
us. We can reach the ocean through the Golf
of St. Lawrence, or proceed inland to the Gulf
of Mexico !
W here, in all the wide world beside, can such
an exhibition be 'found 1 Where, a coun
try so interlaced with such an extent of artifi
cial internal navigation: I Then consider the
commercial, agriculture), and political improve
ment in the social Condition of the-people,
which mtist inevitably follow such privileges!
Anthill these are bet ' part of the public im
provements of two Slates of the American re
public, whose national existence bears date
within the last century"! Many of the eiirtous,
growling, foreign tourists,descrihe us as a vain
glorious people:. if success intoxicates; sure
ly•iye'may:bp:pattloried a feW airs in witness
ing the rapid . advancctitir tonsity has Mide iii
all 'the elemente'pf wealth 'and inducements In
prosperity. ' ' • ' • •
I fiiiieleiferellied so tub' on'ihis subject,
that 1 hesitate arminwhiai - going hiCk ,to de
tails again, in 'retard, to this North' Branch ea;
iml4the startingteint
Tfie State nf Penusitriniegiikto
pant, who have utidertaken'thitilork,' nom*
fifteen - indes br canal already finished and
operation, from the 'month ef tilortien b ri Mech .
to Pittston. Tel this is added thelittiainitti
portion of the line (ninety miles) two thirds
finished—.over two and a-half. millions of,dol
lan having been expended tiptin it. ,An ex
clusive right to the.valley of the Susquehanna
for canal,or railway,.purposes, is another part
of their extensive , privileges.. The legislature
reserved, the right to resume the work, at , the
end of forty years, on paying the company at
the rate of seven per cent. interest per annum,
together with the principal expended in com
pleting it. - Being a link in the great chain of
internal navigation I haveattempted to describe.
and the -only one which is unfinished—leading
also through some. of the finest anthracite and
bituthinouccoal regions in the world. directly
to .a populous and thriving country where fuel
is scarce, and .yearly becoming more so—it
can ; hardly be otherwise than a profitable in
vestment of capital. as-well as a most valuable
public improvement. As a Pennsylvania de
mocrat, I should have much preferred that the
work bad been completed by the State. if she
had the means. rather than it sbould have fallen
into the , hands of a corporation ; although 1
have long been persuaded that corporate privi
leges for the purpose of creating a public high
way. was :the least objectionable form the
spirit of monopoly could assume—if. indeed,
such a creation can be called a monopoly, in
any proper sense of the term.
,AFrom the L adies ' National Magazine for Aug.]
-The Young Rebel: _
•
A 'TALE OF THE CAROLINAS.
BY 1. MILTON SANDERS
In a small farm house, towrrds the close of
the year 1780, sat an old man, his wife and
only son. The face of the father appeared
troubled : at times ha looked thoughtfully on
the floor, and then he would gaze long and
wistfully at hisson, a fine manly youth of twen
ty. At length he said,
•• David, this is disastrous news front Camden,
God knows what-will become of the country
now,! Congress needs every arm that is capa
ble—alt me. I wish-this old wound I got
in the French war had not lamed toe—but for
it, I should he now shouldering my musket
and marching to defend my •country."
Bath the son and wife looked. up at these
words. The old lady ceased knitting and ga
zed enquiringly at her boy, and it was evident.
from the expression of her face. that patriotism
and motherly affection were at variance in her
bosom. The son, however, after encountering
his father's for a moment, turned confusedly
away. The old man's brow darkened, and he
said warmly.
•' David, David, why do you linger about
the village when your country needs your ser
vices so much ?—why, son, I am ashamed of
you! Twice before this have I spoken to you
upon this subject. but you appear to have no
spirit! What! will you see us trampled upon
by the brutal mercenaries of Britian, and still
lie here supinely ? Fur shame David, fur shame!
I will not call you my son. Long since you
ought to have been, in the army !"
•• Joshua, Joshua," interposed the old moth
er, " David is but a youth ; then do not speak
to him so harshly. tie cannot yet feel what ,
you feel, who have fought so often against our
country's enemies—Joshua, he is but a boy."
•• A boy, indeed, Deborah ! such boys as
David have already gained imperishable laurels
since the war commenced. I could name r
host of them !—why, were it not fur the boys
of this land where would be our army, which.
I dare say, is one quarter composed of boys of
David's age.'? The old man was excited, and
it was the first unkind word that he had ever
used to his boy.
David arose and left the house. Ile walked
Some distance apparently in deep thought. .
•• %V hat will not women do?" heat last mut
tered—" here I have been lingering about the
village when I should have been off long ago.
And for what I—why to meet a pretty girl. and
to ,listen to her musical voice ; but now I will
be myself again!—what did he call me ? was
it not corciard ? Now by heavens, I will learn
him, that lie has a son who possesses the spir
it of his father. Away then with love, for I
feel that tam called up to act, and no longer
dream Ere a fortnight.my father shall hear
of me, or else 1 lose my life striving for it."
And with this resolution he turned about and
retraced his steps.
• .'hen he reached home he sought the sta
ble, saddled his horse, and mounting bim.
struck into a gallop, which continued for sev
eral miles. - At length he stopped and looked
up at the windoWs of a farm-house, half hid
between clustering trees, This was the resi
dence of Mary .Bunker„. the mistress of his
heart, the lights showed that the family had
not retired, and he resolved to pay her a visit
before his departure.
She was alone when' he entered. and a few
words acquainted her whli his determination.
She burst into tears.
" Nay ! Mary," lie said. " you must not un- •
man me. At first I resolved to leave you with
out a farewell,
: for I knew how much you
dreaded my. taking an active part in thts stru,g
gle. But I could pot be so cruel, as to desert
you withouta word,"
".1 will compose myself." said the fair girl.
with an effort to smile- " I know I have been
wrong to persuade you to stay : but you can
not imagine the anxieties 1 suffer on account
of.my brothers, and I could not bear to have
you too encounter their tenger. But since
this dreadful defeat at Camden I feel that ev
ery man is, wanted by, our country . Goo*.
dearest, and Gud be witli you. ,My prayers
shill attend YoU. night and dip-
,I:Dayid.Preased the now weeping girl to his
nosieliedaliasty kiss at the sound of ap
proaching fooleMps, wrung herhatitf.'stid was
gonp....
The next day he left the' neighborhoOd Of
pis father's house, mired with a musket and
Stogy 11is.destination
was 01 1 1 3 '06i camp; then far to thittiotih=
Vitt tie, the intervening •couniri-was fill;-
itttriikllie'enemy.lus 'knew there would be'
address tittaitell• io eteet,bis fur:
pose. Defoe his departure he sa*a I feri? of
his old playmates, who Promised to follow him
as soon as possible. ' ' •
Night found Win near a s.hlitely fiarm-hootik
to which he proceeded boldly in pursuit of al
lodging. At - first the- occupant • received him
coldly, but la chance expression consin-
Cing David that his host was a tory; he effectt
ed the Caine political creed, and was irnmedi,
ately warmly welcomed,. The royaliskprodu-:
ced his eider after supper, nd insisted that-Da
yid should join him bolds potations g this
.the
young manilid, taking care, however, not to
indulge too freely,, while the farnfesf,
ed to 'kd what he supposed a new recruit' frir
his party. drank wtthout stint arid becinie more
and more communicative.. To his horror, Di
vid soon learned that a' riarly of• loyalists, led
by a Major Wilson,•celebrated for his torYism .
and ruthlessness, were to start early the ensu
ing day on an expedition to seize and hang the
two Bunkers, who had-made themselves par
ticularly obnoxious to the royalist leaders.. Da
vid, knew enough ofthis-partizawwarfare iti be
assured, that no mercy would be shown to his
friends ; he also knew enough of the character
of the major to suspect that some strong per
sonal motive had led to the planning of so dis
tant an expedition, when there were others as
' in viting nearer home. He accordingly set
himself to discover from his 'half inebriated
companion ilin'truth. Nor was it long before
success crowned his adroit cross-examination.
Why, you see." said the host. " I believe
there's a little revenge for a slight received
from-these fellows' sister: mixed up with the
major's desire to catch the Bunkers. The girl
is very pretty, they say. and the major. when
she was down here on a visit last year—be:
fore the war—wanted to marry her, but she
would have nothing to say to him. Ever since.
he has avowed to make her rue the day. You
may depend upon it that lie will have her on
his own terms now—thank .Heaven ! there's
no law any , longer to prevent any honest loyal
ist from doing as he pleases to those rascally
rebels. But yonder is the major now." sud
denly said hie hust, starting up, "-I will intro
duce you to him at once—a merry fellow
you'll find him. Lord love you he's as brave
as a two."
David though horrified at the diabolical
plot Le had heard. saw the necessity o f dis
sembling in (triter to learn further of the tories'
plans, and find means. if possible, to circum
vent them. He arose, therefore. and shook
the Major's hand' warmly, pledged him imme
diately in a brimmer ; and soon contrived to
make the royalist believe that he was aniious
to join a troop and take part against the rebels.
This induced the major to be unusually civil,
for he wished to secure so athletic - a recruit
himself. It was not long before a bargain had
been concluded between the two—David refu
sed to sign the agreement that night. he pre
tended that several other of his friends were
disaffected and desirous of joining ;the loyal.
ists ; and his object, he.said was to secure a
commission for himself by inducing them to
to join. This tempting bait took ; the major
promised him a command an his troop, in case
of success, and David signified his intention of
setting forth, after he had taken a few hours
rest, in order to lose no time in gatherink to
gether his recruits.
The dread of discovery had been constantly
before our hero during the management of this
negotiation, for his person was well known to
many of the major's troop, and if any of them
had come up, his feigned name would not ; have
protected him from detection. He wished to
get off that night as he had proposed ; but to
this neither his host nor the major -would hear
and he was forced to hear, on rising, that the
. . .
major had been gene some hours, and was al-
ready on his way to the Bunkers,. with his
troops Dissembling his anxiety. David par
took of a hasty breakfast, and mounting his horse,
rode slowly away. But when out of sight of
the house he struck into a fierce. gallop, which
he continued till he cam; in sight of • a cross
road where was a tavern. Here he stopped and
learnin g that the royalists had taken the high
road, be turned aside into a narrow and more
circuitous one..
•• It is my only chance to avoid them," hi
said, again dashing into a gallop. - . Pray God,
I may .reach the settlement in tune to collect a
few of our lads and macch to the Bunkers.
There is no other hope now .
Night had fallen, as they expected, before the
tories were able to reach • the vicinity of the
house they were in scotch of. At length, how
ever. after a silent march through the woods, it
broke upon their their view.' . A light was burn
ing in one of the windows,, and when they arri
ved close 'to the premises, lively notes of a,
violin reached their ears, proving that the bitith
,- were not aware of their presence, but enjoy
-ng themselves in imagined, security. •
"Now men," whispered' the leader of the 'to
ries, " when I give the word, fire a volley at the,
house by Way of introducir ourselves: we will
then suriofind the place awl enter it.", •
At that instant the deep ibay of a
,dot
in their ears, and u.large in: l istilf sprang from un
der the house and rushed I r the major.
" Fire !" he Fried. .; .
'Twenty guns broke upoilikeit } illness alike
niebt—the dog fell—every , pane f glass in the
front of the house was shiv'eieit'iritt the lodes
yelled like savages. In an. instant the light in
the house was extinguished , --the violin.as quick.
Iv ceased. and a noise was I heard at ,the door.:
the 'cries immediately ma de a rush at it., But
it was already barred. and b i tang made of strung,
oak, plank, resisted all the tir efforts. A title
cracked from one of the upper windows, andl
one of the tortes fen desperately wounded. A
re n
other port succeeded and .another tory fell, and
Major %V liven was now fully aware. that afOtil I
Burtherii were at home anti wide, awake,: A.
shed, tamed the rain from d i re front : oldie house,
and underneath tins, the dories, shielding them
selves from the fire of the' Hunkers, went to
work at ttie defer. •Sitspect!itigvertich:.resistanee'
.a.-ptehrips, from his: knowleldgmcf.their oeltartm-,
ter—one of the men had br i ottglifan .sixfpletth,
which he commenced lienit - g at the door, and
Seam cut it to pieced,' Tretleti' deSpenito battle
ensued.' The;two Vieottiera wain riotietfol Men.'
and as courageous as the. wete,strongl*.and
El
=I
MI
now with, clUbs and rifles- they; ,disptztedffie r t a
trance or the Whole tory force. The door being
small they st mil their ground-fo t itakau hour,
feeling during that lime -some. of ,thestr i wbe,
had temerity to enter firat,,het finally numbers
overcame them, and they
. were fi eng upon the
floor and bound.;.Thp,toriea. inflamed . talmati•
ness at the great resistance whiah — had been
made, and at their ownlosses, pow seized the
candler
. and slater, and ;nimfe ..p3eparations ,to •
hang the tivi brothers befure eye.. The
'ropes were a'ready lied around ..the necks of the.
victims, wheedle major addressed,his-rmnt
.• Now, friende, as soon ae these villains are
dead, we will set fire , to,.the house—dm - old
woman there ," he, laid:: With a -brutal; laugh,
.• may be left inside:—bitilth'e. young Ame--I re
serve for myself."_.
. 1 Hist" crieil . Mie'efthitheiviri a loud voice:
The major ceased, and , tbey heard isvoice -ant:
side the house. Although die •words were spo--
ken Inw, the listeners , distinctly beard; when .1
say . fire.. give it_tn, -
A man with a.blanched . 'cht:elt..,izow„rnshed
among - Mein, excleaiming ? — • ~
The "yard ie frill of men t"
• • • ..•
1 . Fire ! ' cried asleep voice 'from the yard=
a general volley succeeded, and lid 'lathe
aim been directed in the door:. that se'aeral Of the
tories fell, either dead or desperately wounded.
In turn the tories retreated up stairs, when ill
.vid our hero rushed into the room which they
had. ust left, and cut the ropes which bound the
Bunkers and their mother and sister.
May, God Almighty bless you for this !"
cried one of the Bunkers. .
The two men sprang,up,. seized. their rifles
which had been left in the room, and . prepared
to retaliate the trea:ment which they hadlystre
entre();
' Long and desperate was the battle. . The to.
vies fought for life ; the whigs'for revenge. But
at length the latter triumphet.'though not until
their enemies • had been almost, exterminated.
The, major fell by: the arm of our hero who
sought hint out in the hottest of the fight, and
engaged him single handed. •
No language of ours can express The einotiotut
of David as hepressed his . betrothed, bride to
,his bosom ; his heart went up in thankful
ness to Heaven for hie timely arrival, when he
thought that a delay of half an hour longer
would have consigned her to a fate worse than
death. 'l'he gratitude of her brothers were
expressed 'hi many words, but lier's was ii
lentand tearful, yet oh ! how much niore grati
fying:
.• I almost called you a coward, son David,"
said his father to him, when they met. "but you
are a chip of the old block, lona - --1 did wrong,
Dehotalt, he is a boy to be proud of—is he not?
You may founder one of my horses every day
you do such a,tleed---it beats anything 1 ever
saw in the old french war:: , ,
David's gallantry In this act drew around him,
in a few weeks, more than a score of hardy
young followers, who fought with him to the
close of the last war, *halt he returned and
was happily married to the heroine of our story.
low to Treat a Wl:e.
It is not every husband who kno,we how, to
treat a wife.. The following adinirable lesson
on the subject should . be carefully read end
treasured in the'memory of every husband, and
of every one who contemplites emitting that
relation. If rightly improved, it may serve to
avert many of the troubles of life.—change the
clouds to sunshine, and render its whole course -
smooth and placid. We know not the , origin
of the article ; but that it is a good-one—an
excellent one, we are quite sure.
First. get, a wife. Secondly, be patient.— ,
You may h are great irials and perplexities in
your business with the world but do not
therefore carry to your home a clouded or con
tracted brow. Your wife may have had trials.
which, though of less magnitude, may have
been as hard to bear. ' Do not increase her
difficulties. A kind conciliating word, a ten
der look, will do wonders in chasing from bet
brow all clouds of gloom. You encounter
Your difficulties in - the open air, fanned- by •
heaven'scool breezes ; hut your wife is often
shut in from these healthful influences. and
her health fails, and her spirits lose their elev.
icily. But oh! hearwith her f. ehe has trial'
and sorrows to which you ate a stranger.. bin
which your tenderness can deprive of all their
anguish,• Notice kindly her little attentions
and efforts to promote your comfort. Do not
take them all as a matter of course, and pass
- them by, at the same titne being- very sure to
observe any omission of 'what you may con.
sider her dety'in you.' DO not treat her with
indifference, if you would not sear and palsy
her heart, which. watered by kindness; would,
to the latest day of your existiuce, throb with
sincere and constant affection. c•
Somelimes yield your wishes to hem. '•She
has•:preferenres as strong as you. and it may
be just as trying to her to yield her cheie as
to you. Do you find It hard to yield,..ome
lbws? Think you it is not difficult for het
to give up alscpwa? . you•never yield to het
wishes. there is:danger, that.she will think you
are seltfeli, ind rare , only for yourself., and
with such feelings She cannel love you as she
might: Ag'a~ti: °
show ynunielf manly. so that
your ! wife' eanfsiok and tert'tliat
you that she esn'eotifide In
,your jUdgment 7 ".
iIiNTS FOE haCtiELOALS:r•AIIeIIIIOIIIS.'IO a IR-
Ay whose society is, sought a.genileman. are
justly iindeesitiutt niatrititonv.. ,11 the
pet:Mix:4 titre_ lartnight,,abinit he nicans.,not origi.
wiling with him..
.ir they are tins; oidahle, of
:iMught and occiisinricil by the lody, herself, the,
kind ;Mention nl'a OcnileinirOnnif he '.ascribed
to mere ciinetesy . .:: WfiCO takila au - Sei
tine and rimer puffin thelnittet, when he visite.
entitle, Willi's, and, ;114'014 "all: wheri lie'^ailorts
,and - dieri i lhere"s 'tiff-Mistake': lie
to pop'the'question, , ts or get away. ll -: . ...rairitty.
,„ ,
Piiiolis6o—rjeiniiij.wliriAja member of
glinjr.eatt,T i '" • •
- K theintief 'oreenitti , is is `a roranion sub-'
siantiie;ogreeing tvith self intertsf, and in gov
6tned.b3loght ikillais a dni-onderotood.''
Ell
' EZI2.IMII Lea