,_ . 1 '., . •
. . •
. i. • ~ .
. _
- • : „
• . • • , : .
. . • • _,._
•\ ' • • - • ' . , , .
. .
. . :
, ..
, .
ri! - . * . • .. \ • .
, . • .
•:... . . , .
•
• , • . • . . . •
.----
• • , , .
_. , . -. • -,
. . . . .
, • .. . .. . ~ . , ~ . ~.
. * • • . .1 . : . .. , - '
. • '461111k, • :,. :. . ... .._,, - „
._ _ 4I ; -.::-:. -, 2, ,.........-, : . • 2: _,,, : \ ::::... ~ „ , ...;,;:.-,,: z•,.., :,t .....,-..,.. ~,,,_--....,:,::••• .... fr omb.„- s .. ~ i..., - -..-..:,,,..;___:
~....., - ....„.:•...... -.L -..;,•
'4 . . F .... _
... ,
, .
" ..„.,. .. .........,...... .
~ ~..,
:.,
, ..
• _. _ _, • , . A
0 •,
: -.
•:,. . . . • . :
'... - . ' ' . '
-.•
-,.'.'
- ' •I
' ':-
'•- • ' ' '
t ile
1 'a
, )., ..•,, . . . .•,..."
. • ,
..
.._ . ... _ l l -.• ..
~,..... ...
... . .
.. ~
:N. .
. i i ', • ..
.. , , , , ~ .
. (6.1 . . . • ...
, s - • *
AV •
9 • •
. ..:....
~
\ •
,us
Villvai .
~ „ . .. ~.... ~ .
.1.
• ..r . ~
• .- ..„...,-, ~ -, . . ... , .
.
••1 - .
•
''---
... , . .
. - . .
. .
. ,
. .
•
,• • ,•,, . , . • t '
'...------.......---............ '
. • ... . • - ,
t .
. ".• • - . ' , .
11 . :' - - • .
: -'," . • r EtVA - 141 - .)' 1.9 OM . AIDIFOMM COCAo2osl'9lPaloi Eil'4l7
.. :•,,
~ .
J
• . . . -
ir The , Saitor's Return, - - mate was proyerbial; she felt, riptstith - - •he.haii
-9 The EvHs'ef Impressment; ' staiding the hope held out to_ber Th her
o.
husbarid's !message, that he'wp.'
T
her forever. : -. . •
Arears.. passed --
, .... . -
. , Icatharine-Wilson. was iondly , attach heard. of
-
ed 'to - her Itsband. : His handsome tea- -""
,
• , tures, hii - graceful form, and fraro - -
1 :-
re is
:fore—
r' :-
'. '
share ~ e• • • easy manners; with-the -'
" YiL . whichin' •
:- . ,
il the eve. --
, always
wi,, -
1 ,A. forty-forty !
, e 0 ,ro, draw "'
IV '
1
1 A
1
1
r.
I 1
i
1
1
.•
•
..e"
Th
-rep
iii
1-10
43= 32 aaVia
ER
the Republutar and. Argus.]
he Coon Hunter's Song.
—al, It's my delight, &c.
e all ye jolly - hunters,
, e t ime is not too soon;
.ske full preparations
L bunt that "Same Old Coon !"
i s ; the same old varmint, boyi„
lbst cord its once before--
1 f
• ys let's prepare,
r,e spori to share
' Eighteen. forty-forty !
lad t , , draw near, and lend an ear,
'Ue we rehearse-diong,
, h an dy , wards, they .still are true,
,nd to the hisfry now belong ;
[istoiy of '4O, boys,
Of Coons and' lies a score—
None can forget;,
We'll pay them yet,
In Eighteen forty font!
"Better Times, " they told us of—
The ceivin sure "RELIEF"—
ith "tiro dollars" - in our pockets, boys,
And our bellies full of "beef!" . ;
ese things they freely promised us,
g Re fi ll as many more;
But-don't regret— '
,We'll pay them yet,
Eighteen fortY-foirt ! •
in memqy Still are fresh, -
Bct no where etSe . we vow;
,imaii;y's the lad looked smiling then,
no's brolien-hearted now !i .
disappointments ne7er were felt
tap times before;
But, bbys, don't fret,
We'll pay them yet, - •
b Eighteen forty-four !
Confidence," they preach'd about,
no of it in vogue, •
t upon thc-Braien Face
sone• clefaultin'g rogue;
thig class.—!!it's no mistake,"
There's daily growing mole,
We,firmly soviet
For vengeance dear,
") Eighteen forty-four!
Tu'Better wages," where are they
Se ne'er have seen the likes; : •
Itrii of "two dollars a day," my boys,
,17e've nothing elseisut strikes:!
Ty! sue pa for "conspiracies"
To the Sheriff hind us fier.; •
But pretty soon;.
thrash the coon,
'Jr:Eighteen forty-four!
futomises we coolant live—
Our children cry for bread- 7 , -
f;'d Winter bowls around us now
-oa.hearts are filled with dread—
ed thesnum grows still more fierce
ro_und our dwellings roar-=
We swear on high,
The Coon shall die
Intighteen forty-four!
o[Cata;es, we've bad quite enough;
tt4,ags full a score ; 2 •
tutll.l3 ep better currency,
Ifellese r see it more,--:
02. 1:to change we'll have, we guess,
hi year or so, or more, -
Ta e Coon may grin •
Bet we% tan his skin
leEighteen forty-fon:l i
speed thee on, "0h fathei time,"
We're anZionS for the kinik, _
Il e day of' reckoning's cloSe at hand ;
Ile coons within Our .1towor;
tin t at the ballotTbr•l re-meet,
We'll Settle up the•iceire :
Oh !'what
Oar - wrongs to right
le Eighteen forts-four!
ljppler's Farewill 'to Whiskey,
Ai 'pride's; Varewell."-
ato whiskey! tears are streaming,
tay, red andswollen eyes ;
'PIS of roses beaming,
t farewell to °lli ties.Eil •
brandy ! now I leave thee,
,
4 I Ira hopes my bosom swell;
}'trust thee, you - deceive me,
' LIR ell monster! fare thee wpll.
!veil porter ! thou art smiling',
'mere' , poison in thy, flow'!
Atere temptedme;begoiling'•
4 ' 6 /int roe -when I, would go.
dlarbiskey! their di curse me,
I. ' lll l ups thy name coati tell !
14 wounds where you've quesed we,
tit
— mum—fare thee well.
•
. 1 aidi ng ! now I liave thee,
/ ""olirt . g aII my sorrows o'er;
fight of thee must gine me, ., •
' 44 0 . 1 shim thee ever were , -
" hers, *lu) deride we,
ist ee I tale can teil:
2 1 4)10 with septet beside me,,, 7::
' l4 %ling haunts farewell.
, ,
The Return,
Or, The of Impressment.
BY IL&WSBR MARTIIiGALIZ.
.Katharine-Wilson was fiondly attach.
ed to 'her husband, His kandsome fea
tures, hie - graceful form, and frank and
easy manners, with the , air of interest
which in the eves of a youthful' maiden
is always *ached to the gallant spirits
who volunferily brave perils by , sea and
by land, had first won her heart—while
his affectionate disposition, his gener
ous nature, :and his sterling integrity,
increased ker affection and secured her
respect. He was the beau ideal of hu
man perfection . ; and the regret,' the
deep-seated sorrow which the young
wife experienced when her truant hus
band parted from her, armnst in the
honey moen, encounter dangers, on
the mighty deep, may be more 'easily
imagined than described. But there
are few ills of life for which time does
not bring-a panacea—and although when
the stage drove off, tarrying with it the
dearest friend which she had on: earth,
she was overwhelmed with grief and
refused all 'consolation, in a few days
the natural buoyancy of her spirit pre
vailed. and she listened to the,Whisper
ings of hope, and gazed
.fondly on the
images of joy to which the enchantress
pointed' in the distance. Her thoughts,
however, sleeping or'.,waking, centered
on her husband, and although-she at
tended, to her domestic s duties ) With un
remitting assiduity, and lost no oppor
tunity of administering to the happiness
of her parents, who loved her as fondly
as ever parents loved a' child, she was
constantly looking-forward 'to the re
turn of her husband as to the - brightest
hour of her existence. :
g 'The Rabican was expected tehe .ab
sent from eight to , twelve months, ac
cording , to , circumstances; and the
!, Marine Lists " in the newspapers
were scanned with great care by Katha
rine, in:the expectation that they would
furnish her with occasional intelligence
of the progress and safety of the ship,
in whose fortunes "
she now took, so
deep at interest. But the Rabican on
her outward passage was not spoken of
by any homeward hound' vessel, much
to: Kate's vexation and disappointment.
In' a few months she began to expect
letters from her husband, but no letters
came. At length One day; to her great
joy, while examining the shipping de
partment of the Boston new4apers, she
saw that the Rabican, had arrived at
Bahia, in a passage :of sixty-five-days
from - Boston. Now she should cer
tainly receive letters from Jack Wilson.
Day,after day she visited the post office
on the arrival of the, mail but returned
-slcitiv.ljr- to her home,sad and disappoint
ed - She, consoled herself with the idea
that Jack had written, but that the letters
had been miscarried.
Time passed away, and the return of
the Rabican was daily expected:, A
yea' bad effected an astonishing-change
in: the condition' AI character of Kathe-•
rine 'Clifford.' From a lively, good
humored,• laughing,lioidenisli girl, she
was transformed into a sedate 'matron--
a wife; who had tasted The cup of_mat
rimonial happineb, to have it dashed
from her mother, who gazed
upon her
,new. born with all a young
mother's pride and fondness. She re
garded him as a new tie of affection.
and eagerly looked forward to that bliss
ful hour when she could present him to
her husband.
The Rabican arrived in Boston'. The
news sear a thrill of ; joy through the
frame' of Katharine 'Her husband :had
returned She should soon be pressed
to' his heart ! And she fondly hoped
thit they, would never again, be separa
ted, excepti by death—for she secretly
resolved toJ use all her influence with
Jack to quit the sea foreVer, While
she was thin anticipating one of the
richest enjoyments of which human na
ture is capable, seated in the front par
le'r onset father's Wise ! with her in
•fatit smiling in her lap, a letter. , from
Captain Thompson was received, in
terming her , that her husband had been
iMpressed on board'an English man-of ,
war ! In a few days, Captain Thoinp-,
son himself, with a kindness of feeling,
characteristic of the profession to which
he', belonged, hastened to the Yining
wife :And mother, agreeable to Jack
requeSt; Wand communicated
all the details of the' barbarous trainee
tiUn',:
;This *esti' .dre,adfut blowlo Eatha
rine, and one for which she was entire
ly' thiprepared. She had .often- heard
her husband ; speak of the. horrors: of
impressment.-and now. that he was for,
cibly seized, and, carried. on board of
,-Eng
vi
tish frigate - , bound fOr the;dis
-
;antnt East' Indies, tioie unhoutthy"e4-
A‘ .
Regardiesi of Denunciation from any irsarter.--Gov- r_owl7l4-
UM'Aitati,9 11323AIDIFOIEM @CMPIFT9 ni)&o9 ECEPALEr tII
mate was proverbial, she' felt, nptivith - -
standing the hope held out to her in her
husband's 'message, that he `
was lost to
her fOrever.
`Years, passed away,, and nothing was
heard of Jack Wilson, An American
vessel arrived at Boston from Bombay,
and brought intelligence that the frigate,
Freebooterhad lost more than. half her
crew by the cholera. which broke out
on j board. Katharine fully believed ,
that if the life of her - husband had been
preserved; he would have returned to
his home, or•have found some means of
communicating to her the grateful in
telligence. And she reluctantly acqui
esced in the general belief Oak Jack
Wilson had fallen a victim to a system
of relentless tyranny, adverse to
_the
prospects of "civilization, laws of na
tions, and the law! of God. And deep
ly did she lament the loss of her hus
band, and bitterly did she rail against a'
government which could look quietly
on, while its citizens were ruthlessly
seized, when peaceably pursuing their
avocations upon' the high sees, endear
ried into slavery of the most cruel and
degraded kind.
Katharine was still beautiful—and
being regarded as a young and bloom
ing widow, the heir-expectant of a
handsome property, it is not surprising
that eligible opportunities were offered
her of again changing, her condition in
life, but she could not banish from her
mind the remembrance of her gallant
sailor—and when she looked , upon the
countenance of her son, and saw there
the living miniature of his father, she
would give free vent to heitlears—and
declared she would never wedigain.—.
Even the suit of Simon Elwell. whom'
-shediad always esteemed for his good
qualities, and 'who still cherished the
affections he had entertained forher be
fore her marriage was kindly but de
cidedly rejected. Indeed, notwithstand
ing the proverbial volability and incon
stancy of woman, it is highly probable
that Katharine Wilson would never
have m a rried again, if her father had'
mot been attacked with a severe and fa
:tal illness which decided her destiny/
On his desth-bed; feeling the destitute
condition of his daughter leftnpon the
wide world without -A protector,l he be
iought her as his last request to give her
hand to his . friend Simon El well. It is
strange what a propensity for match
=kink is often manifested by persons
who are.about quitting all ,the sorrows
and pleasures of life—it is sometimes
pro'duc'tive of good, but is often the
cause Of many years of affliction to the
living. In this case, however, it seem
ed likely to 'conduce to the happineis
of both parties. Simon loved Katharine
with ardent affection—and Katharine,
although love was out of the question,
respected and esteemed Min — r and if
she had been required to choose again
a partner for life Would probably have
preferred him to any of her admirers.
They were married in the chamber of
the_dying "man, whose last moments
were solaced .with the reflection that
he had secured the happiness of. his
child.
it was about sixteen years after the
commencement of our narrative, that
one cold mornino. in December, a poor.
forlorn-looking object, miserably clad
in tho garb or a mariner, was seen ad
vancing with tottering steps, on the
Iliad leading from Boston toward Do
ver, N. H. This was Jack , Wilson—
but he did not resemble the Jack Wil
son' Whom we have introduced to our
readers. A long series of sufferings,
and exposures, in a tropical climate,
and liardehips, had brought on prema
ture old age . His figure was nolon
ger erect and graceful, a youthful
Apollo, but bent with infirmities—his
complexion was no longer . ruddy, the
emblem- of health,. but bronzed by ex
posuge - to the sun, and sallow from die
ease-4—his features were no longer regu
lar.and handsome, exciting the envy, of
the one sex and the admiration of the
other, but his visage was disfigured by
•a hideous sear, caused, by a sabre cut
which he had received on board a pi-
ratieaj pros on the coast . of Sumatra
his hair was no longer dark and glossy
bat grizzled and thin—and his counten
ance no longer' beamed with - good 'hal
mor; as tf he' Was at peace . With himself
and all the wild, but, was deeded with
care and . sprrow.• , His noble spirit had
been brain with the lash Land a smile
had been a stranger to his features for
many a long day. ~After an absence of
years, ho , was about returning to-liie na.
jive home. He had beeotne so accus !
tomeil,to misfortune ,that he no longer
anticipated" pleasure. What - chnges
had
.pecurred 'during- his* absence, he
.ktiepr nOte,-7hitt.helvatt anxious tolearn
something of 'the fate.'of his Mother and
of the , fair'being ja`'ltliotii,in his youth,
he had plighted his vows of affection
at the holy altar. *had "Kepared for
the. worst--for hope . had long, been a
'stranger to his bosom: \
The . Freebooter , on board tvhieWfri
gate Jack Wilson had been pressed,
proceeded to the East Indies--and.
was not long before he attempted to re
deem the promise which he had Made
of escaping , from his thraldom. He
was re-captured and cruelly.flogged.-!-.
He twice 'afterward repeated the experi ,
ment, but was unsuccessful. When he
was apprehended the last he was
tried by a court martial, and sentenced
to be flogged through the fleet: His
defence, that of being an American titi:
zen—although urged with mjch elo
quence did not avail and be was
compelled' to subniit to this dreadful `
.punishmerit, which is a refinerneittl on
the. cruelties inflicted by savages on
their captured enernies. For his re
peated attempts to escape, he was re
garded with dislike by- the officers—
and was treated with much wanton cru
elty and oppressicin. When the Free
booter returned to England, Jack was
transferred to another ship—and in this
manner had served on board several of
his Britannic 'Majesty's vessels. He
had been in,several actions by sea ank
by lend, snit received,% number of
wounds—he had been several times at
tacked With diseases inc dent to a tropi :
cal _climate, among °there by cholera
and yellow fever—he had been subjec
ted to contumely and abuse, until his
kind feelings and affections were pan- .
lyzed within his bosom. At length,
after having been severely punished for
some neglect of duty, he made his es
cape from a sloop-of-svar, while she
was lying at anchor in Batavia roads,
swam a.mile and a quarter,to an Ameri
can vessel, in spite of the sharks, which
escorted him on his way—Wis snugly
stowed away by the generous hearted '
crew, until the vessel sailed' for New
York—and had at last returned'to his
native land, a decrepid, broken down
man-of-Kees man, destitute of money,
and even of clothes, and, so far as he
knew, without a single friend in the
wide world. But although Jack Wil
son was but the wreck of his former
self. his heart was as noble and gener
ous as ever. '
Worn out with fatigue, Jack Wilson
reached the confines-of the little village
in which he was born, about six o'clock
in the evening. The wind blew furi
ously from the northeast, and a severe
snow storm had commenced. Having
passed many years in a warm chniate,
and being but thinly clad, the wintry
wind chilled his frame-4ut he trudged
slowly onward, anxious to hear tidings
Of those dear ones, whose ,memory he
still cherished in the inmost recesses of
his heart. When within a-mile of the
village, he was overtaken , by a good
looking youth who seeing,trom Jack's
rig. that he was, a sailoti and that 'he
was fatigued with travel, addressed him
in tones of kindnesh, and asked him has ,
far he was travelling.
"To the - next tavern," said Jack,
" I have walked a l long distance tO.day,
and feel the .heed of rest and refresh
went..
14. From your F.dress you must be a
sailor," said 'the youth, • , 1 always lik
ed: sailors — for my f ather was a sailor.,—
and if you will go, hOme with me,' i
knoiv my mother - be, glad, to see
you. ao •to give to yOu.a.supperaird a
bed,"
'Where is your father," said Jack.
w
ansered.the kind hearted.
lad; 4. he died in the East Indies a good
many years ago."
4. Whet was his name ?" askCd Jack.
..Jack Wilscin ?" returned the youth.
He was pressed on board and En
glish man-of-war,'and never returned."
.1 Jack started as if a hullo had -enter
ed hia-hreast, This then was, his son
—the ; sotiofis lovedßatbarine ! He
grasped the hand of the youth,dand ea
gerly asked, yurrnother! your mo
ther! What of her. 'Silesia still living,
you say, and where ?"
My mother," answered-Abe boy,
surprised at the Manner *of his crintan
ion, married ag ain some years aft e
my father's death—and now lives with
her 14sbancl, Mr. Elivell, in yonder
White !10an.," pointing to a' large 'and
handsonie mansion about a hundred rods
further on-their. path. ' . •
Yonr mother
,married again
exclaimed our , tveatheraipate,n mariner
—.! then," added he in a low tone,
the hopes Whickbegan to tathetaround
my heart are again blasted-4nd - blasted
forever:". • , •
This was an event which,Jaek Wil
son had dreadeil4for he could, not per : ,
evade hiinSelf ihat'lLittliaripe,'With her
pmgnal ghqrmil l I and surrotuded,
ovreifutiinfluences wotildlemain , forL
, • -•-
40
;
so many years, faithful. to- the. Memory
of the husband Of her, youth, whom she
bad no longerriatron s to believe was in
the'land of the liting. ,And With a Mag.;
nanimity characteristic of Aiterican
tars,- he had •reolved, , altheughiwith a
,f!lainful effort, to conceal his name, if
linfound his glonmyanticipation , realiz
ed,and resume tbeeccupattoni to Which
so many yearsef his life had been de
voted. He felt! that his
,sinds ,were
nearly :run---and Hite could not add, to
' the happinerii other he loved.teselved
not to be the means of making her mis
erable. But his! mother ? He wished to
know her fate.
1. Did your father leave no-parents ?"
asked he of his son.
".Only! a mother," answered, the
youth, " and she died'- about six years.
ago, and lies buried ,in the church-yard
by the side of her husband. Felten visit
her grave—fer I dearly loved my grand
mother..'
' You are a noble boy," said Jack—
" and your mother, you say, etilrfeels
an interest in those who follow.la sea
faring life V' -. •
Yes," replied the lad, " have of
ten heard her say that a sailer iu die
, tress, should alWays find a friend in her.
Yon'appear to he tired, theisnow falls
thicker and faster;:' It is
, yet soft e. dis
tance io the tavern—you catmoldo btt'
ler than go with me. Myl father ad
mother both 011 be \ glad m • entertin
you for the night.
Jack followed his son into Übe Wee
of Simon Elwell. .4: ,
There wasian air- of comfort and
prosperity abint , the establishment,
which is often witnessed among our ,
New England 1 farmers. 'A fire burnt
I briskly on the hearth—Simon Elwell,
a good looking, intelligent farmer, hard
ly past the meridian of life, was seated
in the midst of family., with two of
Ibis young st, Children on - his knee and
Katharine, a comely, motherly looking
dame, watr.briSkly engaged in making
preparations for the evening repast.
" Father," said the lad, u he usher-,
ed the woe-worn stranger in the teem, -
where the tamily we re assembled, ~ on
my way froin , Colonel Veasey's, I
overtook a seafaring man. He appears
to have been iinfortunate and is almost
perished with' the cold. told him tbit
you and mother would give him a kind
reception—and he has very 'wisely ac
cepted my invitation."
" You; have - acted quite right,
my son," said Mr. Elwell. "My
friend," continued he, addressing Jack,
lam glad to see you. Take eseat
near the fire,and make yourself comfor- •
table." •
Yes," said Mr. Elwell, "we -are
always glad to extend our hospitality
to these adventurous men, who expose
themselves to all the perils of the ocean.
,to furnish us tvith the .neceisaries end'
luxuries of life. They meetwith hard-,
ships enough on the seas, and have a
claim upon the kindness of landsirren,
which should ne've. be disallowed."
Supper was loon ,ready, and Jack
took a seat .nt the table. Everything.
was Conducted with the utmost proprie
ty. It was evident that Simon. Elwell
loved and respected his wife—and
.Ka
tharine, united to a worthy Merit who
could appreciate her,,excellence, and
surrounded 'by a greirp- of cherubs,
could hardly be otherwise than happy
Oh," said Jack to himself, as he
gazed once more on the handsome fea
tures of tlie ivoinan tO whom be had
plighted' his marriage voscs what a
treasure: I hive lost. I cannot bear
to witnet.steVert her happiness ,with.an
other;"
--
Be had eateirnothing since , the day
befOre-4ut !lie had no appetite. He felt
sick at hiehOrt-rand a tear started in
his eye. is • •
Katharine Saw with thekeenness of
a woman's tterception,.the sorrow of her
guest. She addressed him in the most-
kind and gende manner, and endeavor
ed to discover the cause of .hie distress:
He listenedito her alew moments.with
eager attention—for her voice and man
ner reminded him-of the blissful days,-
which had lo ng since passed away, ne
ner to return. But when she ceased
•
ad Simon ElWell spoke, the charm
. . „
Jacii\tYpion abruptly rose. sg'l have
a long journy," "aid he, to gir—and
I may not tang by the way—l mast bid
you goodnight.'
He seize A Kadmrine by the hand.—
. 7
".Forewel4" inid 'be itt a. tremnloue
voiee, r . God will reward ybtkfor your
kindness dpoor miforitinateler,'
- who has now not one friendou'eattk7
may sorrow ever: be
,`c stranger p). yob
boso0." . 1
conkd mere.' " The teal*
&hire& awn: I his furroined
cheeks -3 . Ogetied3he.htedr.he,,held,
Givt ia. et. wocountit a ow.
•
to his lips, e4ed bat' an - rushed
madly, front', the rootn., As he initstied
his
_way toward the pillage, meeting
house. the• ateeple , , of -which 'could •be
seen in the distance, he eObbeil
Simon.Elwell and his wife . were as 7
tonishednt the conduct of the stranger.
They feared_ Ott he labored undera
a derangemeit of the mental system .
arid' Katharine' was much pleased when
ber eldest son, 'aihO seemed,to feel a
lively. interest, in the fate of -the no r , ,
known wanderer, announced his,inien.
lien of hastening 'after him, and gaid.
int him on his way to the village 4.4.:
tern.. _
- The snow had done falling, the clouds
were breaking, 'awe* am! the `wind'
blew with violertce froin the north-West
as Jack Wilson with a heavy heart,
proceeded down the road toward the :
village.. Before he had accomplished
half the dititance, he was overtaken by
his son -who kindly Offered to accom
pany him on the wa:v. .
" My noble boy !" said Jack', " any
man might well be proud of Such a-son
—and I should even be willing to lin
ger still , a time longer in this trouble
some world, provided I could be near
you, RIM were able to advise you, and
instruct you in your. duties toivaol yonr
fellow men and your God. But it cap
not be. Show me the way to the pub.
lie house. Perbaps that there I can
obtain a lodging for the night—we will
then ,part—you to employ all the - bliss
of a virtuous in - other's affection—and I
—to commune with the spirits of ah
other world."
Thnyouth was-now .convinced that
the stranger was deranged, but he wad,
ed with him, through the snow, de'-
fiance of the freezing wind; until they,
reached the door stone of. the
.public
house. '4 Here." said J.ack,...1 can .oh- .
taro shelter. They will . hardly turn
away an old sailor from their door on
such a night as this,even am unable
to pay them for their hospitality."
He drew from his 'bosom a,
silken purse—but it contained not _:a
single coin. Here," said ' my,
son," for I wi ll call you *such, take
this-and preserve it in remembrance of
an old sailor. It isn gage Of affection
which I have carried near my he i art for
many a long year—l have no - fertile*
use for it nosy..
The boy took the purse in silence.
" Yon told me," continued lie,;"that
your father's name was Wilson, What
is•your given name ?"
"Jack." replied the.,jed, " they call
me Jack Wilson!" •
"Jack Wilson !" exclaimed the un
fortunate man—and he threw his arms
around the'neck of the astonished boy
and kissed him—" Jack Wilsonr may
God AlipightY ever bless you'!"
The boy returned to his home won
d'ering at the conduct of his singular
man—but 'the' unhappy victim of the
barbarous system.of impressment did
not enter the tavern. He directed his
steps , coward the churchyard !--;He
kneltaition the spot where the remains
of his parents were buried , --and prayed
to• his God for forgiveness of sins. His
heart was seared with disappointment
—and his frame , was chilled with the
fierce northern blast. In the morning
he was found stretched lifeless on the
•grave of his mother! • , •
- •The particulars of this . Mournful:
event goon circulated through the vil
lage. When it was told to Katherine
Elwell, a new light "seemed to biirst
upon her.,- She asked her son for the'
purse which was given hina by : the
stranger the nght before. lt was old
end much, fa ded. Slie saw niaiked
upon the edge. the J. W., and Katha
rine then knew that the poor, forlorn,
decrepid. r and_ destitute, sailor was no
other than her first husband.. •
1., ,
Farming in Winter.
.Whit shafts farmer, as a farmer, do in
the wifiter ? He has much to do in :win
ter peculiar to his profession—in , his.
house, in his barn, in -the'woods,, and in
market.. There is no need of being idle.
He has a great 'deal to do for the , promo-
iron of his'interests. --In the first place,
if therigors of the servion drive him in
doors; let him think himself alucky mark,
for it is in his family that hii first. and
I most important duties are. ' Has he a
wife and children. Let ,him : make the
.first his r eompaniong friend and equal, and
let hitil devote;his thoughts' and lahoritir
the instruetion and iniproS i ement of . his '
children. - 'Sep that they go to;school and ' s
are furnished with Suitable books. See . ;
.
that:their winterevenings are employed_
in us.eprl , rendingand study,. 'with iuno ,
cent amusements 'intermixed, ratherthan
'ti ills tirig Ahehannts of diSiipation,an•d ,
rurunt;' , Let:the:Winter .14 - devoted 10 the Z
dutitrof the fire side smd the calls onto
tial hiterloqrsev -, . •
5
,
~ -~`,
WM
Zeo ithOo