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(£ DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
Thursday Morning, March 3, 1859.
[From the Atlantic Monthly, for February.]
THE PALM AND THE PINE.
BY BAYAHD TAYLOR.
When Peter led the tirst Crusade,
A Norseman wood an Arab maid.
He loved her lithe and palmy jjrace.
And the dark beauty of her face.
She loved his cheeks, so ruddy lair,
His sunav eyes and yellow hair.
He called—she left her father's tent ;
She followed whereso'er he went.
She left the palms in Palestine
To -it beneath the Norland pine.
She sans the musky Orient strains
Where Winter swept the spowy plains.
Their natnres met like night and morn,
What tune the morning star is born.
The child that, from their meeting grew
Hung, like a star, between the two.
Th<' glossy night his mother shed
From her long hair was on his head ;
But in its shade they saw arise
The morning of his father's eyes.
Rcneath the tawny Orient's stain
Wandered the Norseman's crimson vein ;
Beneath the Northern force was seen
The Arab sense, alert and keen.
His were the Viking's sinewy hands,
The arching foot of Eastern land?.
And in his soul conflicting strove
N rlhern indifference. Southern love ;
The chastity of temperate Mood,
Impetuous passion's fiery fiood ;
The settled faith that nothing shakes,
The jealousy a breath awake* :
The planning Reason's sober gaxe.
And Fancy's meteoric blare.
And stronger, as he grew to man.
i ,e contradicting natures ran, —
As -.tingled streams from .Etna flow.
One born of fire, and one of snow,
And one impelled, and one withheld,
And one obeyed, and one rebelled.
One gave him force, the other fire ;
T!ii -elf-control, and that desire.
One filled his heart with fierce unrest ;
With peace serene the other blessed.
He knew the depth and knew the height.
The bounds of darkness and of light;
Ars'. who these far extremes has een.
V *t needs know all that lies between.
So. n ith untaught, instinctive art.
He read the myriad-natured heart.
He tnrt the men of many a land :
They gave their souls into his hand ;
Aid none of them was long unknown :
The hardest k ssou wa< his own.
Hut how he lived, and where ami wi.v a.
It matters not to other men ;
For, as a fountain disappears,
To pish again in latter years,
So nature lost *ra>n may rise
After a lap* of centuries.—
May track the hidden course of Mood,
Through many a generation's fiood.
Till, on some unsuspected field.
The- latent lineage is revealed.
The hearts that met in Palestine.
A:ni mingled neath the Norland pine.
Still beat with doubie pulse 111 mine.
Stlutri C a 11.
THE HANGING GUEST.
A RUSSIAN STORY.
It is a grand discovery of our days, and one
that his furnished the material for many a dis
i.uguis'ued author's renown, that Dothingin the
* rid is mote interesting, admirable, dignified,
and edify inc. than the life of a respectable rob
ber The jail is your only palace of romance ;
b'xd is the lemonade of modern literature. We
Ri" ans mast not remain behind the age. we
&o have onr tales of robbers. If we would
so*, appear in the eyes of all civilized Europe
is a people utterly devoid of alt culture aud
taste. For the honor of our country, there-
I will for once constrain myself to con
form to the fashion of the day ; but on condi
.as t'..at it shall be for the first and last time
asv life, ar.d that no one shall, a second
demand such a sacrifice of me. I will re
■i*.e a simple anecdote, which I had from per
of undoubted veracity, and who. more
hi! an exeelleut way of tell a-story. It is
c " : at made a impression upon me. as
&r - stance of the marvelous ways of Divine
Two verts from—
Ore condition more. Yon mn*t allow me to
?* 2*e rone of vonr virtuous sort. ! tell my
oo'y for the amusement of my readers,
P*-hap* t also, for their instruction, but by no
~"ar* for the jwtrpose of acquiring for myself
'- re; atatioa of a philosopher of the " young
tfk\n of literature ; moreover, 1 rather pride
- > ** on not being able to comprehend their
1 *o versts from W a, upon an eminence
freiwegn a wood, a morass, and a river, at some
from the high road, stands a wooden
'-'.ry Louse, with a green and antiquated
Here usually throughout the summer,
sometimes, too, in autumn, resides Ganrila
P., a retired captain, and at
district justice, a ury worthy man, as
*■ strict justices in the W a depart-
Eg t one Sanday morning. ia the month of
s 7 c ° : . his worship. Gauri'.a Michailo
*--h h.s honored ady, Parksovya Yego-
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
rovan, set off for the city, in a britschka, to
transact some business, viz : to go to church,
to drink with his reverence and protopope, to
eat and be convival with the district attorney,
to hear the towu news from the commandant's
lady, to read the St. Petersburg papers at the
district treasurer's, and to play at boston at :
i the governor's. Scarcely had the master and
mistress driven from their door, when all the
servants followed their example, and quitted
the house. The butler weut to see his cousiu
in the village ; the cook betook himself to the
public-house to drink brandy ; the coukmaid
to the river to catch crayfish ; Procher and
Daria went nutting to the wood ; Vaska and
Natasha strayed to the heath to gather cran
berries, Ac., ; Duna alone remained in the
house. Duna, the pearl of the whole W a
department, fair as a lilly, fresh as a rose,
graceful as a cedar, a sprightly, virtuous dam
sel ; by her calling a honse-maid ; by her na
tural good qualities, the favorite of her mis
tress, the grand object of her frequent visits of
the master of the house to the woman's apart
ments. the victim of an inordinate propensity
of the district clerks for kissing, the goddess
for whose sake the governor's valet—who, like
herself, had been brought up in the great
world in the Xeeska Prospective—neglected
the polishing of his master's boots, to the
great scandal and indignation of the whole pro
vincial administration ; none bnt he could ap
preciate her feelings ; none but she could duly
estimate the grace of his deportment. They
mutually adored each other, as only hearts
can adore that have taken fire by the Kasan
Bridge in St. Petersburg, and they were as
happy as none can be but in the country.
Girls shut up in a house by themselves are
always afraid of thieves. Dana, therefore,
carefully fastened the outer doors, and to avoid
thinking of thieves, she went to look at her
self in the glass, while she waited for the valet,
whom she had given to understand that her
master and mistress were to spend the whole
day in the town. In the pleasantest possible
mood, Duna arranged her curls, set her neck
erchief in order, tightened her girdle, and hum- -
med a tune, when suddenly there was a gentle ,
tap at the door. " That is he I" and like an
arrow she flew aud opened the door aud let
him in. "Ah I it is not he !"'
" I am y- ur man,'', replied a deep hnsky
voice, as there cautiously entered through the
open door a biir-built fellow, in a tattered frieze
cloak and faded cap, with a swarthy face much
in want of the barber's office, terribly foxy
moustaches, and a dusky red nose, and a scar
let forehead, biue lips, ami bloodthirsty eyes :
the very type of the chairman of a city pot
house, or one of those diabolical figures that
are only to be seen in Salvator Rosa's paint
The astonished Duna recoiled some steps,
and repeated with a sigh fr<Mu the bottom of!
her heart :"It is uot he !" Meanwhile the 1
stranger had stepped in, and with the utmost
coolness closed the door again, locked it, aud
put the key iu his pocket.
" What do you waut ? Who are you ?"
cried Duna. " Why do you put the key in
your pocket ?"
j " " Don't be alarmed, my little dear," he said
smiling. "I am come to pay you a visit. The
time most have hung heavy on your hands, ah
: alone here."
" Not at all. Rut what do yon mean by
pocketing the key?"
Instead of answering, he went up to her,
and patted her oa the check She sprang
: from him.
" Why do you lock the door ! Give me the
key. or I will cry out."
" That will do you no good. I know very
well there is no one in the house "
" A pretty thing indeed ! Come in, without
" With your leave." or, " lly your leave." and
lock the door as if you were iu your own
" I a!way* lock the door when I have the
luck to be alone with so pretty a girl a* yon.
niv angel !" ami once more he patted her on
the check with his coarse, dirty ha:.J. The
angry Dana retreated into a comer.
" Rut who are yon ? It is very unhandsome,
so it is. to make fun of a girl, aud tease her so
without any acquaintance."
'• I never visit acquaintances," he replied,
with an altered look, aud a toue that froze the
poor girl'* blood.
In every antechamber and chaneery office
Duna bore the reputation of a girl of spirit. £!ie ;
was no easy conquest. Many a prosnmptnous
clerk had felt the print of her nails in his face
to that degree that he was not Ilk.lr to forget
it. though he should live to be a master in
chancery. Duna, in fact, did honor to the vir
tue of St. Petersburg. Rut a bashfulpcoriac ai
chaneery cierk, with his inky fingers, is a trifle
to a girl who has been brought up in the best
milliner's shop in the Xeeska Prospective; an
unshaved. broad-shouldered. ugly vagabond, in
a frieze cloak, with red moustaches and a vio
let nose, is ad-fferent sort of thing, and enough
to frighten anvbodv. Duna Iegan to cry.
" Don't cry my little dock ! I won't do you
any harm," he said, in a softer tone as he drew
near ber. Now, this softer tone alarmed her
even more, and she iu voluntarily stretched out
her anns to keep him off
'• Who are yoa, I *ay ?" she cried, in despair,
but with au assumption of courage, with a fire,
that was gradually extinguished by her gush- j
ing tears. " You skail teii me on the spot who
' von are "
" Who am I V
" Yes. who are you ? Your calling ? Your
"I am a thief."
44 A thief I" she echoed, faltering'*, turning
as white as snow.
" 1 am a thief by name, aud a robber by sta
tion." be said, with a suiiie, and looking tcn
deriy into her blue eyes ; but the smile oo bis
face resembled tbe gbasiiy glimmering of the
moon ou the foui waters of the morass. This is
ithe approved style iu robber's tales, so you see
there WAS no joke in the matter : alter such a
i phrase all sorts of horrors may be expected
*' Duna was terrified "not at the phrase, but at
the stale, and a eold tremor ran through her
frame, but seeing that ber visitor wis cawing
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
sport of her uneasiness, she rallied herself a
little, and cried out hurriedly but with a trem
ulous voice : " A rubber ! Poh ! what a horrid
" Every man to his calling. I had another
one ; but now, I say, my pretty lass, give mc
: something to eat. I have not put a bit in my
mouth these three days. We will breakfast
together, and then "
With a sudden gesture be threw his arms
around her neck to kiss her. The sight of his
bristly chin and formidable moustaches charg
ing so fiercely upon her, the sight of his ugly
red nose that nearly touched her cheek, put
| her iu a downright passion ; aud with the
; strength that makes heroes of great use in mo
ments of extreme peril, she pushed the auda
cious fellow back.
"Hands off if you please, Mr. Robber! J
would thank not to frighten me for nothing.
I know what you are come for."
"You kuow, do you? Well, what is it,
"Oh ! I know very well ; bnt allow me
to tell you it is a very great shame. 1 will
have you up for it. Give me back the key
this moment, and be off."
" Some breakfast," growled the stranger. !
" I have no breakfast for you ; there is
nothing to eat in the whole house. Go break
fast in the public house, if you have a mind.
By the same token, you smell of brandy
enough to knock rae backwards ; I dare say
you have made a very good breakfast al
" What ! nothing to eat ?" he muttered,
knitting his brow, and bending a piercing
glance on the girl as he put his right hand
down towards his boot. "Do you see thi.*?'"
said he, showing her a broad-bladed knife,
with small black speckles, traces of recently
shed blood he had somewhere hastily wiped
off on the grass. " I have no time to joke
Poor Duna stared with open eyes, and
and seemed petrified by his basilisk glances.
" Breakfast!" he shouted.
" Immediately !"
" Be quick : I have no time to lose."
" Take whatever you please : there is some
roast meat of yesterday in the cupboard, and
" Show me into the parlor, and put everv
thinsr vou have trot on the table, and stirvour
Pale and bewildered, she tottered to the cup
board in the ante-chamber. He stuck the knife
in his boot, and followed her step by step.
Bread, brandy, salt, butter, cheese, and cold
roast veal were placed on the same table where
the proprietors of the house had recently break
fasted before setting off for the town. He seat
ed himself, seized Dana's arm, and forced her
down beside him. " Well, I say." said he.
bolting the tat veal with ravenous voracity.
' and squinting sideways at hi* companion, " 1
gave you a jolly start, didn't I ?"
" I believe you did ! I wonder who would
; not be frightened so ?"
" Yon did wrong to stand out against me. If
yon had done what I wanted at once your
hea l tli. Drink a little drop to keep me com
" I never touch brandy."
" That's a pity; it's capital bran !y. What's
your name !"
" Catharina Nicola."
" Tnat's a lie," he said, with his mouth full,
aud scowling ou her ; " 1 know your name is
" Then why do you ask. if yon know ?"'
"To try your candor, Capital brandy, ti
be sure ; is there any more of it ?"
" There's "nother bottle in the cupboard."
" Have the goodness to bring it here."
'■ There it is.*'
" Thank yoa. By yonr leave I'll give yon a
kiss for it."
Duna no longer dared to re-l-t : she submit
ted with the best grace she could to the rude
kiss, contenting herself with wiping the place
where his sharp beard had scratched her soft
skin till it had almost bled.
" To let you see that 1 am un to a thing or
two," i.e went on, after he had gulped hi*
third gia-s of brandy. " I will teil yoa that a
clerk brought your master 1,500 roubles yes
terday from Ivanovitch F, whose case was
brought last week before the district court. I>
uot that true T"
" May be so."
'• Weil, where does your maater keep Lis
" ReaHy, I do not kuow."
" But 1 do : we shall soon find it Avdotya
Yeremeyevna. my pet. my darling !"
" What is your pleasure?"
" I wish, my love, y> a would be sociable."'
Poor Duna was forced to make a show of
being sociable. The guest was in the happiest
humor : he laughed and joke I with her. Duna
gradually forgot her terrors, grew bolder, de
feated nerseif becomingly, nay, laughed aloud,
and endeavored to disguise her intense anxiety
under a show of cheerfulness, while in secret
she prayed fervently to heaven that the red
uoscti guest might soon eat and drink his fill,
and take his leave, and the incomparable Ivan
might soon arrive to i . jemaifj her sensitive
: heart for this fearful torment.
Ala*! Ivan who had got ieave from the gov
ernor left the town.and sped with hn*tv steps,
and with a heart brim-fuii of tenderness and
hope, to meet her. He walked not. he flew.—
Cupid had fasteucd his own wiugs to h s boots.
'He flew like an arrow. But on his way !ay a
; brandv shop; there is no road without them
He wonld have fi j*n by it ; bo: in the brandy
shop were his acquaintances his beloved friend-
He made a halt with them for a moment, only
a moment ; and got tipsy with them It hap
' pened quite against h ; s will : he was in despair
at it. Altogether, it was one of the most me
• morabie vicU-riea ever achieved by Frieodsh p
j over Love.
Meanwhile the ugly vagabond had emptied
. his sixth of brandy. At the seventh he
gTe* priwtre. parsed his brows, Bn d bit his hps
*asif a pang shot through bis vitals; a darx
! shadow pjAsed like a ciood over his counte
: nance ; judden'y he sprang from h;s scat, aad
i without iaieudiug it, poshed so strong'.y agaius;
" RERARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
his companion, that she almost fell between his
feet. He looked aronud uneasily, took the
brandy bottle, the bread, and a piece of meat
from the table, put them all Into the fathom
less pockets of his cloak, and said : " Thank
you for bread and salt—your hospitality.—
Gaurila Michailovich keeps his money in his
secretary, eh ? Why don't you speak ? Yon
see I am not such a bad fellow as you thought
at first, my pretty chick. 1 love you—l love
you so much Just tell ine what sort of
death you would like best to die. Shall I cut
off your head, eh? Or would you rather I
should hang yoa—from that beam, for instance.
Don't be afraid, only say what yon would like
best, charming I)una."
" What pleasure can you take in plaguing
me so cruelly ?" said Duna, not crediting that
the ugly jester with the red nose could be in
" Why don't yon answer T' he said, examin
ing the secretary and the lock. " I should be
glad to know—Whether you—would rather—
be hanged, or—O ho ! Gauerial Michailvitch
keeps his money under two locks, does h° ?
I Stay a bit ; it is not the first we have coaxed
open." So saying he took un iron instrument
| out of his pocket, and immediately began to
use it upon the lock. Duna stooJ as if spell
bound in the middle of the room, trembling in
all her frame. "Well, what is it then ?
i oat, Avdotya Geremeyevna. Can't you make
|up your mind ? Hang the lock ! Avdotya
Yeremeyevna, I wait your answer, my precious.
Tliis is the strongest lock I've seen this many
a day. Will you speak or not."
The secretary burst open with a crash.
" Wuoo ! What a lot of fine things ! Bank
notes, aud ducats, watches ! They don't go;
spoiled most likely. A ring? I don't want it.
"0!i I'll take these diamonds. Are these all
crumbs of officer ?"
Chatting in ibis fashion with himself and
with Duna, he crammed his pockets with money
and watches, and then turned abruptly to the
half dead girl. " Well, my love, your choice?
Waste no time ; but tell me, what death will
you die ?"
" Well I'm sure ! Ar'nt you ashamed, sir ?
It is a very ugly joke this."
" I atn not joking at all, ray sweet one."
j " What have I done to you ? You have
taken whatever you pleased ; I did not hinder
' That's very true ; bnt do you see, I can't
abide leaving eye-witness behind me ; I wash
my hands of them by all means. With others
I don't stand on ceremony ; bnt as yon, my
love, are such a nice good matured amiable lit
tie dear. I wiil give you your choice of death.
I love politeness : 1 too have been brought up
in St. I'eters'nurgh."
Still she would not believe that he was in
" Now then, let's have it at once : I have
no time to lose. Let us put compliments
aside. lam extremly sorry, but you must
die by my baud. I aui not going to be such a
fool as to let you live, to tell what sort of
moustaches, eyes, no*e. clothes, Ac . I have got
; —what I did here, and which way 1 went
Now, Advotva Yereuievevna, auswer quickly."
Every word of hir cold-blooded torturer was
• a dagger stroke to her : her whole blood, all
the warm current of her life, curdled ba.-k up
on her heart ; her limbs grew icy cold, and
floods of tears poured over her inaoiui ite face.
She tottered aud feil to the floor. Iu her fail
she caught the robber's foot, and k.—ed it.—
"Have mercy on me!" she shrieked. "O
1 *pare my life, I implore you ! I swear to you
before the Holy Virgin, I will not say a sylla
ble to any one. May 1 never see heaven if I
do ! For the sake of the blessed St. Nicholas
—have compassion on me ! I will pray a'.! ray
life for you as for my own father, my broth
The inexorable miscreant shook her efffrom
his foot, kicking her iu the brea*t. Ia vain
.-he rai.-ed her imploring looks and arras towards
him : in vain she sought to touch hi> stony
heart with all that intense despair, and the
dinging love for a vonthfnl, joyous existence,
could oreathe into the words, the voice and
the tears of a helples? being. The vidian, har
der than granite, grew every moment more
crael and savage. Raging with impatience,
he caught her* by the hair, forced back her
head, drew his knife from his boot, aud was
about to plunge it in her throat.
" Oh. oh ! for the love of heaven !" sobbed
the unfortunate girl, beside her-e fat the sight
of the terrible kuife : "hang me—hang me !
No bloody death ! Mercy !—merer ! Hang
me ratlier !"
" Ay. ay," he said, with a hideous gria ;
"so you can speak at la*:. Why did you not
say *o at ooce ? I have lost a deal of time
already ; still I can't refo-e yon the fav.->r :
vou arc -mh a nice girl ! Don't be afraid.
Daaa ! You shall die in the pleasantest man
ner. It is an ugiy death that of the k: ife.—
If I might choose myself I would rati, r be
hanged than krioute-1. when n.y time comes.
We will look abont for a cord."
The wretched girl, powerless in mind and
body through terror, cold as ice. trembiing
and almost lifeless, submitting to ail his com
mands. The rope was soon found, and the
murderer returned with hi* victim to the same
room where the remains of the breakfast stiii
stood upon the table. He threatened to kill
her instantly if she stirred from the spot w here
she stood—placed a chair ou the table—and
sprang nimbly upon it. Having fastened the
rope round the bentn. he drew the knife from
his toot, cut off the projecting part of the
rope, stuck the knife into the be-im. and set
about making a doubie running knot oa the
rope. Duna stood motionless in the middle of
the room ; heat aad cold rushed alternately
through her frame : spark* of sre danced be
fore her eyes ; she saw nothing ; she did noth
ing but pray, confess her sins, commend her
self to ail the saints, and mentally bid fare
well to all that was dear to her in life.
" Presently, presently, my precious I" said
the murderer, going on with his work ; " you
shall see how nicely I will hang yon. I aa
WK a new hand a; tbe job Do you see now
! j all is ready ; ooly we try whether tne
;" rope Is strong enough. 1 would not for tue
world you should full to the ground and break
your ribs. It is for your interest and my own
that—Draw the chair away from under my feet."
Duna unconsciously went up to the table,
and drew away the chair, whilst the robber
held the rope fast in both hands, having slip
ped it over one urm np to the elbow to con
vince himself of its strength by swinging ou it
with the whole weight of his body.
" Push the table aside." Duua did so.
"All right; it is a capital rope; it will
bear more than you—you and me together "
He now let go the rope, intending to jump
to the ground. Apparently it was his pur
pose to startle the poor gil l by the bold and
sndden leap ; but the noose intended for her
glided along his arm, caught him fast by the
wrist. Puna's executioner had, iu fact, hang
( ed himself by the hand.
Though experiencing the most acute pain,
he wished to conceal his critical posi'ion fruin
the girl, that she might not avail herself of it
to escape. He tried to reach the imprisoned
hand with his left ; bnt the weight of his bo
dy prevented his bringing his shoulders paral
lel. Suddenly he began to whirl and fling
himself wildly through the air, hoping the rope
would snap : but in vain ! if he had but the
knife iu his boot, he might have severed it, <>r,
at the worst, have cnt off his hand, and saved
himself by flight. But unluckily for him. the
kuife was sticking in the beam. How was he
to get at it ?
He thought of one means—a desperate one
—the last He collected a!! his strength, to
<hnke the knife out with a powerful spring.—
The effort tailed.
The weight of his heavy frame dangling in
the air by one hand only, his violent efforts,
the pressure of the tight-drawn knot, occasion
ed the villain intense torture : the joints of his
urm cracked aud began to part ; the blood
oozed out umh r the rope from the lacerated
skin, and trickled into the sleeve of lii.s d ak ;
while that of tlie rest of hi- frame rushed from
the extremities to his head Every moment
it seemed as if the hand would be torn off He
even wished that it might. His anxiety lest
the people of the houae should return ; hi*
; dread of being taken iu this predicament ; im
; patience, rage ; the thought of hi* misdeeds ;
of his punishment: all his guilty life : all this
pos*e*sed his tumoltuons imagination, and
brought his dark soul to despair. Cold sweat
broke from his forehead. In spite of hi* ti
ger-like endarance, a cry uf agony burst at last
from his iron bosom.
Duna. petrified, and thinking only of death,
had hitherto looked on in idiotic indifference
For a long time she did not under-taud what
he was doing, and made no attempt to under
hand it. .True, she was still standing upright
like a living thing, hut living *he was not.---
The involuntary cry of the murderer waked
her. however, from her trance. She saw him
bleeding, as if it were half a dream ; she saw
blood on the floor, a hideous gaping mouth,
with great misshaped teeth, red fiery eyes start
ing their socket*; he read his anguish
in hi* ghatlv distorted features, and guessed
at last what had happened. Hope animated
her : be began to think of deliverance.
" Avdotya, posh the table nearer," said the
rvbber. in altered, but srill har-li an 1 com
■Sliding accents, that terrified her ngn : n. and
compeii- d her to blind obedience. Once more
- ie I >-: her presence of mind, aud pushed tin
corner of the table toward* hiui. The villain
reached it with f he toes of one foot ;he rais
ed himself up a few inches It was f.>r bm a
moment of heavenly enjoyment Never in hi
whole life had he known one like it—not even
ufter the most successful murder. His agony
was le-< iutokrahle ; he drew brearh again:
but hi- left hand which he tried to use to free
his right, was benumbed and powerL **. T v e
knot, toe, had grown too tight; the reprobate
felt he eonld do no more without aid.
•"Avdotya Yeremeyevna!—kind friend!—
good girl! do me the tavor! jump upon the
table; untie my arm—pray do! I will not
kill yon : I only meant to frighten you. Oh '.
how my head swims !"
The miscreant's torture touched the kind
hearted girds soul. The feeling of eonpOMHM
unfrequeutly extinguishes in woman the thought
of their own danger. Tiat woman thinks with
her heart, has been *aid thousands of time*
since the iuvention of printing. In Dana's bo
som compa-sion prevailed over fear, ami sti
fled the voice of self-preservation. She sprang
upon the table, and labored long and hard at
the knot She could not uudo it !
"Do me the favor, sweet, sweet, Duna !
Fetch a knife—em the cursed rope—l am dy
iug with pain."
T e girl iaraped ff the table and ran to the
pantry. Poor creature ! -he little knew th--
return the red-nosed g:c*t was prepared to
make for tbe kindne** of fu-r heart. She
found a k.afe ; she harried back ; she was on
the threshold, whea the table on which the
robber had rested hi* foot turned over with a
load noise. He had tq -• t it in endeavori: g
|to change his feet. Ooce more he was swung
with ai! his weight in the3ir. A piereingycll
told of the -udden renewal of his former tor
tare*. Duna stopped abort a; the do >r. H -
I hideously distorted face st;nck her with invol
untary horror : she thought it was Satan's own
features she beheld. The - ght riveted hrr to
the spot where -he *••-.[ : -he *hu iderei. a i
dared not move a sre-p forward.
; She looked rouud and say a window o[>en
T ,e thong it flashed upon her that >he might
! avail herself of the circumstance. Bat lie suf
fers so dreadfully! How frightfully he scream*!
The rope rnu-t be cat. Dana advanced a f-w
steps. That horrid gaping month ! Dana
tottered bacA and mechanically uncoascious of
what she did, she rai*cd herself to the window
' Ire'ge, and dropped from it into the conrt-yard.
When he wa in t'ae conrt-vard, -he knew no;
j what she had done, or what she had to do
She had escaped the sight of that feroc;ou
-atanic month, bnt not tbe influence of her *or
tucctor. He had fi*#c*itated her. He was-till
lord of her life. lltr knees trembled, she dar
ed not withdraw from tbe window
"IU 1 too you'ig ; Je !"* bo* "led the mis
i crexct lavage,v ; voj have (i n.? ckrerly.—
I'd have sLt your turoat like a eiiicaeiiV'
VOL. XIX. NO. 80.
| These words nttered in unspeakable agony
and despair, suddenly rallied ilie girl's ener
gies. She ran to the gate. The master's
horrid jest had proved his horrid punishment
Could he hav: supposed that he tied the knot
for himself? Could he have supposed that
that awful moment, in which her foot hung
her over the grave, should be the moment of
deliverance to the innocent, and of exemplary
punishment to the guilty ? Here was the fin
ger of Providence. If is everywhere. It is a
falsehood to maintain that vice and crime alone
prosper in this world
She ran, and ran, till her strength was nigh
exhausted ; no one was in sight. She ran
further ; her breath failed ; her limbs totter
ed ; she dared not look round, lest she should
again fall into the hands of her persecutor.—
Nov here u living soul.
Sue struggled up a rising ground.
"Ah ! there is our butler, ami there is Vas
ka : and Procher. Ah ! he too is with them."
He, to wit, the incomparable Ivan, the gov
ernor's valet. They were all returning home
together from the brandy shop, careless and
happy, singing love songs, cracking jokes up
on their masters, with their caps set janntily
on one side, and tacking along the road in ea
sy zig-zags. Duna ran towards them, pale,
with staring eyes and flying hair : her neck
uncovered—her wits bewildered. " Come along!
quick ! quick \" she screamed. "He is hang
ing! hanging! hanging!—the villain is hang
. ing ! faster! faster !"
"Hey, darling little dove of the woods : they
all cried to her, with a laugh ; "who is bang
ing? Where is he hanging ? Give us a ki--,
Dunushka. 'Tis a merry world."
" He is hanging I tell yon ! Don't laugh
Run to the house. Take forks, hatchets, guns
— A thief, a murderer, with great moustaches
and a red nose ! He said he would slit mv
throat like a chicken's—that he'd hang me I"
They hastened their steps, armed themselves
as well as they could, broke the house door
open and went into the parlor. The robber
had fainted ; blood streamed from his mouth
and nose : the arm by which he had hung had
grown nearly a foot longer. They took hiin
down and bound him. After the return of
tLe master and mistress of the house, he was
conveyed the seine evening to prison, and de
livered into the hands of .Justice ! and justico
could not Irnt own, with astonishment, that
never liii then Lad so loug an arm come before
Farming as a Vocation.
THL life of the farmer has ever been consid
ered by himself, one of toil and drudgerv, but
with how much reason, it may be well to ask.
to investigate, and to become satisfied. It is
the lot of man in general to have an occupation.
If not necessary for a living, it ismadea means
of obtaining wealth, fame, or power. A few,
born ti wealth or titles, pursue no calling but
that of pleasure. Such lead mi-erable lives,
and do little or mgood in the world. It i
appointed into a!! men lo work. It is neces
sary to health, strength, comfort, and happi
ness. Rut to work, it is not necessary to guido
the plow or harrow, to wield the axe or scythe,
to sow or reap. There are other kinds of work,
equally laborious and fatiguing—other uccupa
-1 tion- nore wearing to the system, and attend
ed w.th ]♦;>> pleasure. In this country, there
•ire t:. re men engaged in farming than in any
other occupation, and in the rural districts,
they constitute a large majority of the inhabi
tant-. and. a- a eon-eqaer.ee, see and know lit
j tie of the drudgery of other occupations. In
their visits to the mechanic, or manufacturer,
tbey see him sheltered from the storms and
cold, then notice that his -kin is less tawnv, his
hands softer and whiter, and his clothes per
haps !c<- soiled and torn : and it is but natural
that tbey should think his labor less hard than
theirs. They sec the merchant behind his
counter smiling to his customers, or at hi> de-k
counting his money, and tbey cannot think hi
war s ; and they go away wishing that Privi
ly-nee had been a- kind to them Thev see
the lawyer advocating the cause of his client,
uttering with eloquence witty or crave sfnten
ees, bringing tear- to the eyes, or laughter to
the countenances, of judge, jury, and spectators -
j and they go away, repining that the gifts of
Providence ares partially be-'owed. T.;eysco
not the mechanic at work by his !amp, while
farm- rs are reading by their fire-ides ; they see
him n -t with hi acconnts. anxiously looking
forward to the time when his payments become
| due, or h : s flour barrel empty, or his pork bar
re! out : th*y *ee not the anxious and care
worn eoßutenance of the merchant, wbile alon*
in his office, jut before h ; - bank note becom- s
due. and ro money to met it ; and thev see not
the lawyer in the stili hours of the night, with
aching head and wearied eyes, lo king np au
thorities to sustain h'< cause on the eve of trial.
It is ft -y lktm*rfrrs—'hf fi< ws —that have
set th-* stamp of drudg rj npon their occupa
tion. N"o one ehe admit- or believes it. Tho
lawyer, the doctor, the merchant, and the
mechanic, envy the farm* r his farm and Ids
hap; oe-s—his bread, butter, a.nd cheese h|.s
fruits, men*-, and his grains, the product of
lis own h!>or, that he can eat with an appetite
-larpen 1 by muscular exercise, and knowing
that they are pure anl healthy. Ask the
mechanic what he is -trivir.g for, sad w hat is
his aim. fir n h-ymr, a piece of land that I
can cultivate. anl eat the fruits of my own ril
ing ; the merchant wi'l tell joa that he bops
to end fc days upon a farm ; and the lawyer
aid doctor will tell you the same. What if
th- r faces are blanche ' while the farmer is
tawny—their finger- delicate and staple, while
the former are dingy and CIU-U-Y— thir gar
ments fine and clean, while his are soiled and
coarse. Each is appropriate an I equally re
spectable A chimoey-sweepjin white linen, or
a farmer at bis plow In fine broadcloth, woaM
. be an object of ridicule, equally with the lawyer
• in rags. >i we men make themselves ridiculous
1 by overdressing th n the reverse. If the far
■ tuer has not delicacy, he has strength, and
power of endurance—far more T&iaaUe. If
• he is to educated s.iu icfined, it is no fault of
bks cnp.' ■ did be h.nisei: not tb.t* v>; far
Ino Que more leisure foe reading ana studr.