FOEHS BY WHITTIER.
J 0. Whittier fifi-Joit ifrned a re# volume of
foe mi
etb«.poetw-”it^r < W»'***M e <n d PiWi
v .-, ’ . '
I pray .for unbplicfi
• r to hj '
*»f-flJmißaltotbefatofwsn.ef
fIJmiBaltotbefatofwsn.efe 1 «Wt» ”
i BibrßdWofd^
! An 4 twardi imWit«» ■nadaHriJita ; •
; Of filirflkHfc efcwi n B hyrWl- • = .
•Hfijf. (tya S wineJ?«d T s ky ; «|«te. ... ,
The beggar crouching at thehate,
Thhli#r lOalhly’arfd Mri&r ' -t -
Who<a eW of aeib beheld ifie Lord!
O aacrfcd wflhiaidandaWptewfll
fflst! „
Q. light and air of Palestine,
ssg*tpi ! wiih' Hlallfr divine 1 ;
O,'bear me .-thither-! ■ Vit inb'loolt'.
£>d>Bttoa’a.sooli and Hadron** htoqh-*
and iy ,
Xjewewarel yralK, Jjefoce.l die!
■M®iJhUlhie hold »»d northern pight
WdahPmeft before lb»< Orient light i
■ And/wetby Herman*! dewned'ralrp ■
, JUg chilihood'i frith revive agate!"
Thus spake my frlemb-oae autumn day,
Where the still river slid away
as, and above the browd
Hcd curtains of the shut down.
Then said I,—lor I could nol brook
The route appealing of hia loot* —
0 I, too, am weak, and faith u? small,
And blindness hpppenelh unto all
Tel sometimes glimpses on my flight,
c Through present wrong tho eternal right;
And, Btcp by step, since time began,
1 ace the steady gain of mam
That all of good the past hath had
Remains to mete our own timeg]ad,—
Our common dally life divine,
And every land a Palestine.
Thou weariest of thy present stale;
What gain to thee time's hobesl dale?
The doubter now perchance had been
As High Priest or as PilaleNhen ' l
What thought Chorazin's scribes ? what faith
In Him had Nain and Nazareth
Of the few followers whom He Ire,
One sold Him—all forsook and dec
O, friend I we need nor rook nor sanu
Nor storied stream of Morning-Uano ,
The heavens are glassed in Merrimack—
What more could Jordan render back !
\ We lack but open eye and ear
\ To find Die Orient's marvels here ;
The still small voice of autumn's hush,
Yon maple wood the burning bush
For still the new transcends the old
In signs and tokens manifold—
Slaves rise up men ; (he olive waves
With roots deep set in battle graves!
iPhrough the harsh noises of our day,
A low sweet prelude finds its way .
Through clouds of doubt and creeds ol fear,
A hght is breaking cairn and clear.
Thai song of Love, now low and far,
JKre long shall swell from alar to star —
That light, the breaking day, which lips,
The goldcd-spired Apocalypse!”
SELECT TILE.
MILLIE LEE.
BY CLEMEST E. BABB.
“ There,” said a friend to me one day,
“ (here goes a heroine.” I looked around
bm seeing only a little girl, trudging barefoot
along the road ; with a basket almost as
large a? berseffjT turned my eyes with a
glance of inquiry to the speaker. He an
swered it by pointing to the unromantic ob
ject just described. “ I mean her, Millie
Lee. You think that she is only a poor
shoeless,.slockingless child; but I tell you
she is a heroine, with a nobler heart than
ever beat in the bosom of Joan of Arc, or
Margaret Anjou.”
My friend was not accustomed to talk at
random; here my curiosity was excited, and
1 drew from him as we sat in the shade to
rest, this history of Millie Lee.
Five years ago there came to our village,
s laborer named Thomas Lee. He was
idle and intemperate, his wife feeble, and
heart-broken, their children so pale, so hun
gry, and so sickly looking, that it made my
heart ache to look at them. They had been
born beneath the shadow of a father's neg
jeci—a mother's hot tears had fallen on
their faces as they drew nourishment from
tier breast, and lay upon her breaking heart.
I low could they ke like other children 1 On
the desert shrub, every new leaf tells by its
premature seatness, of the arid sand in which
ns roots are withering. Hence those chil
dren never played ot smiled. They crept
about so.still and sad —they ste their hard
dry crusts, with such a melancholy look, that
you would have thought that their, home
must have been a house of deaih. And so
r afterwards was. Their father would he
ior hours as one dead I—dead1 —dead to all the
bcaulies of nature, to all of the
world, to all the nobility of nature, that he
was burning to n cinder of everlasting re’
morse, wnh ihe fires of rum. Ofien have I
accosted those children, crouching togeiher
by the door of their home, and tried to draw
from Idem u smile; 1 gave them lood when
1 knew they were very hungry, nnd they
would Ihnnk me sweetly ; but not a glenm of
sunshine would pass over iheir faces. They
"ere grateful, but could not be gay.
We tried 10 do someilimg for his family,
bm the wretched fattier would not let ally uf
tnem leave him, nnd would squander for rum,
or destroy (or spile, whatever we gave them,
lie hud a greal deni of maudlin independence,
and our kindness he scornfully refused as an
official mierference wiib his affairs. Hence
we could only carry food lo his starving
wife and children while be was at the dram
shop.
Al last Mrs. Lee died. Never saw I such
a scene belore, and God in mercy save me
from overseeing I lie like again! Lee was
rolling on ihe floor, too djrunk to understand
what was going on, or even to rise. But his
tongue was' loose, and he accompanied the
groans of his wife, and sobs of his children,
with snatches o( ribald songs end curses that
made my blood curdle in my veins L
i need not dwell upon the funeral, We
managed to keep Lee sober until- his pnor
wife was under the ground. But be seemed
to have little feeling; he went to the churph
and to the grave, like a men stunned or in a
dream. We left the family at night; with
everything necessary for their condor*, in
tending to provide homes for the cmldren the
next day. /
In (he morning, having made our arrange
meats, we went early to the cabin. We
— _JL_ . k.«ffiw..M ‘Mi/rfifU'm.} Af?l~.
•I m:] i
\ ?.„TTt:Q vL/it. f.v.f Hri)* I '' J' .V?
S'uUh.imh .m U «w».J ifti.i ~.tl i.-U^or ,u.'jni< > ~ t . r;v:.-. ■■■<:.., 1 ijg? HU.Ji.,I. Un' -in e-w-
M. H. C08»> EDITOR:
tieaVtfis wHtoWgp disced Bf«lio^y,
curseS ; "a : creatini 'W¥ ll .^leflo,|
aM&eW mfetf’WgWh
tfikpjker iti_ fits’
chlltjreiT' into' oriV 'Cbrher, ; ntfj3“ Seftffftf'tfcej
younger pneb sfeeiTMj!liei’cov6ri6g’(heitj ; ‘ajsj
a fieri cdtfeVa ftirfeioou, and meetlrig(}ib eye;
of Ijef father i VeprfiaQbi
'ifidsadiidsa ihatodriridn as'fie Was,.he'quiiled|
benefit "if.' , Alft? .wp - hiiii goHs"' ; awayjfie.
night before, the fetched nifio UJ J if&tej)T>nii
to' dfifi pf _tbp&,~titt/ drips, \iei'e l ‘tliey r ‘ fcoMld
sell rum to a grinding dkeiefbn If jt had'drily
three centa in ils Mrip. the
clothes
ral, fid prepared hftrisel/fbr ifip Ape tie 1 we
witnessed.
Having him, arid' released tfie
trembling orphahs,we Insisted Upon takifig
their) all. away. saidwomighttake
Sally, and G'eprgy,and the'baby; blif'Jshb
would aiay, &r L f aJnce motlier was dead,
there was nobody else to look after father.
But Millie, he Will beat yhu, he will kill
you 1”
“ Maybe he ivill, sir,” she answered, “ but
yet 1 must not leave him. He gets drunk', 1
know, and then he'is cross; but still, he is
my father.”
I looked with wonder on that, feeble child!
I thought of all .she had suffered from that
bru'ol man, who riever smiled even'on her
childish prattle. I thought of all she had
yet to fear from him alone in that cabin, and
fell that no recorded instance of female he
roism exceeded heps. We reasoned, and we
pleaded ; but Millie was firm. We were
obliged to leave her, but with numerous sad
forebodings.
We heard nothing from her until (he nekt
clay. Then she run Up to see thb baby,
which was at my house. 1 asked her, “how
are you gelling on at home now, Millie ?”
“ Pretty well, I thank you,” was her reply.
“ Did your father gel drunk last night?”
She tried to keep back the tears as she
answered:
“ Ho came home very cross, Air.”
“ Did he beat you, Millie 1”
“ Oh, not much. He only struck me
twice, and once it was nothing but his hand.”
“ And the other time? yes, I see, it was
with the poker, and he made a deep gash in
your head ! Y*nu must not slay there Millie.”
“0, sir, it did not hurt me much, and
when he saw ll)e blood, it seemed to sober
him a little, and he threw down the poker,
and told me to my face and go to bed.
And after I was in bed, he sat by the fire,
and muttered to himself, and by whal I heard
that ho felt sorry because he struck me, and
I dnn’Uhink he will do so again.”
Poor, patient, loving, hopeful Millie Lee 1
She kissed the baby, and hurried hack to
get some supper for her father.
That night 1 was out late. I returned by
Lee’s cabin about eleven o’clock. As 1 ap
proached?! saw a strange looking object cow
ering under the low eaves, A cold rain was
fulling. I drew near, and there was Millie
asleep, wet to the skin. Her father had
driven her out soma hours before ; she had
lain down to listen to the heavy snoring of
his drunken slumbers, 'so that she might
creep back to bed. But before she heard it,
nature became exhausted, and she fell into a
troubled sleep, with the rain drops pattering
on her. 1 tried to lake her home with me,
but no, true as a martyr to his faith, she
struggled from my arms, and returned to the
now dark and silent cabin. Things went on
so for weeks and months. But at length
Lee became less violent even in his drunken
fits, to his self-denying child ; and one day
when he awoke from the heavy slumber of a
debauch, and found her preparing breakfast
for him, and singing a sweet childish song,
he turned to her and withja lone almost ten
der said :
” Millie, what makes you slay with me!”
•« Because you are my father, and 1 love
you."
“You-love me!" repealed the wretched
man ; “ love me !” lie looked at his bloai
ed limbs, his soiled and ragged clothes;
“ Love me,’ he s'ill murmured.
“ Millie, what makes you love me? lam
a poor drunkard ; everybody else despises
me. Why don’t you!”
“ Dear father,’’ said the little girl with
swimming eyes, “ mother taught me lo love
you ; and every night she comes from hea
ven, and stands by my little bed, and says:
“ Millie, don’t leave your father; Millie, love
your fother. He will get away from that
rum-fiend one of these days, and then how
happy you will be."
Lee buried his head in his (rands, and
tears, the first for a long time, trickled thro’
his fingers. He said no more; but having
eaten hi* breakfast wont out: That night he
came, home sober—the first lime for many
years. Ho gave her a dollar that he had
earned, nnd talked with her kindly, until it
was time to go to bed.
O! how light and glad was (ho heart of
Millie Lee. For hours she lay awake and
wept for joy. After she fell asleep, the an.
gels came to her in her dreams ; and.O, how
sweetly her mother smiled. Next morning
she exerted her childish skill, to prepare a
nice breakfast for her father. She sang and
prattled with a lighl-hearlednessshehad nev.
er known before; and Lee gazed with some
thing like a parent’s pride and fondness on
her. Ho went out to work, and nr night
late at night, after life poor child had wailed
for long—tong hours—he reeled home drunk.
0, what a bitter disappointment. It almost
crushed her: But the angela -camo again
and whispered,- “Courage, love never faileth,”
hope never feilelh," and that night she was
repaid by the early return of her father in
his right mind;
We learned afterwards that the rumseller,
when tee tried to reform, would waylay hint
J “ As , ‘^<»X»ib!« ,! ol?7%fifj&Brtp u w , TaStflWlWHy«j9 or.snßP)b!?i<.t •< t ,
* ..: •>» »jy}a4m ; L . , . ,’, J,, ■„- I «>•
T ** ‘C«
wtfftw ■■intimu.Lo 1.1 x%r wyiryggirafTg yrw r
-owning ft<)DaT'liiftiKprti,ifl oji rsnticiiJtißk hack
■o,',the.)lien.<of-s death.,-?., IMfiqrjenapiw, Couq<|
,Wra,l».»<Jiildiyydcand-Ciil..j Qthqtwiaeifip'
-ho;.«dDldi*eiurn;honie.« aober-man-wadded
falhervlobis-motherlesa i.andioving ..chili
Hew phiientmandcheerfulhesswcrei unsealing
ihe'foUnlains'bf-hisheml.ondhadlberalbeen
no' human- 'spider 16 ssprhad aenare- for . his
would ihed'havrbeen restored. Bui
Blaßi eveV 'Bnd Bnon, ihemeehfesweretoo
eliHlftiliy •Wen-afcd <oo>Birong. ; ••-■ ; ’
• %< And is he still a drunkard I ?’' tasked; ■
; Wait r a tale 1 ishe'arly told.
Millie' heard'odd' 13ay, ; of Mh ’Darldhd, the
eloijtiebt /dfoiifhed 1 drunkard' of -Westvillc.
At on’Cb ihetoohcTuded that hecbuld stive her
Ihtfof. ;'’,ss c yHri|mjt !| n' word 10 nby opcr/sfie
set off, as sport as .her fatherhnd'gonptp fits
Work, hud'walked.’(He whole si* 'rtilleg to
Wesiyille. Sliesolighloutlhe lecturer; she
told him Her 'artless touching ' story. He
came back with her, and took his seat in the
cabin, and sent Millie to 1 bring'tier"'father,
from his work. Mr, Darland" knew how to
accost him, how to advise and encourage
him, for he bad gone Ifirougb tfio same fiery
ordeal and fully conquered the appetite, for
rum.. While he, (Washingtonian and dmnk
ardytalked, Millie listened and prayed,
thought she beard a rustling as of angels’
wings in the cabin,, and os the sunbeams
played upon the wall, she imagined it was
her mother's smile of love and hope ! That
night her father signed the pledge, and by
the. help of kind friends, he has kept it to this
day.
It is now six months since that memora
ble night, apd though they live in the same
cabin still, and are poor, there is not a hap
pier, nobler heart, than beats in the breast of
Millie Lee. What do you think now of my
heroine?
“ She deserves a higher name than that”
I answered. “Sheis an angel!” And as I
looked at the delicate child, carrying her
basket along the dusty road, I thought how
many an embryo cherub may be trudging
along the paths of human poverty and sedrn,
and how We shall wonder at the revelations
there are yet to be, wjien the tinsel shall fall
from the false greatness of the earth, and its
true nobility shall risejto shine forever in the
holy light of heaven.’
PTES OF TRIFEL.
From a Pamphlet timed by the Emigrant Aid Com
party.
“Ifoles of A Trip np Kansas Hlv
er, Including Observations on
the Soil, Climate, Scenery, Ac.
fir- Geo. S. Pass.
The difficulty of navigating the Smoky hill
with a stern-wheel steamer of such length as
the ‘Excel, 1 prevented Cnpt. Baker from ven
turing so far up as he otherwise would. A
shorter side-wheel steamer, of very light
draught, adapted to the navigation of these
interior rivers, will soon be put on the trade.
We left Fort Riley on the return trip, on
Wednesday morning, end came down ‘kite
ing.' Passing rapidly in review the splendid
scenery of which we have attempted to make
hasty memoranda, we entered the Missouri
about daylight next morning.
Before concluding these brief notes, it must
be remarked —in reference to the productions
and climate of Kansas Terriory—that there
are, no doubt, superior hemp lands in its cen
tral and western portions; but Nature unmis
takably indicates stock raising as the proper
and most profitable occupation for the far
mers who shall settle there. In the great
Kansas Valley below Pattawatomie, and in
the eastern region along the Missouri, there
are some of the finest hemp lands in the world.
VV heat, corn, oats, and vegetables, grow as
well there as in any of the Western States.
Theos in the Plane Purchase, immediately
east of the Missouri River, who attend to fruit
growing, say that their apples, peaches, plums,
die., cannot bo surpassed anywhere; we can
see no reason why as much may not be said
of the same crops in the regions across the
river.
The winters are generally dry and pleas
ant, and the roads fine; but little snow falls,
and this lays on the ground only (or a short
time. Sometimes, however, there are verv
‘cold spells’ of weather, but they are not of
long duration. For inslnnce, the masons in
Pnrkville, Platte Co., Mo., quarried and laid
stone last winter with but little interruption
on account of the weather. Common entile,
coifs, trjules, and sheep, enu be wintered on
blue-grass, provided the pastures are nllnwad
to grow up in the Fall, and the slock have a
little corn or liny occasionally. February
and March are frequently quite pleasant, and
much plowing can be done in the mellow dry
loam of the Kansas Valley. Tke summers
are quite warm and long) the thermometer
(Fahr.) not unfrequently marking up to near
one hundred degrees in the shade. The high
prairies, however, are generally fanned by
cool refreshing breezes; and as we ascend
the branches of the Kansas from Fort Riley,
there is a rapid rise to a Cooler regiorf; In
May and June there is a superabundance of
ruin ; but the latter end of summer and fall
ere generally dry.
Having been across the Territory many
limes in course of the Inst fifteen years, we
give these remarks as the result of our ex
perience."
It> regard to productiveness of the soil,
and the most favorable lime for immigrating
to Kansas, attention is directed to the follow
ing Letter, written by a gentleman well known
-to the Secretary, and upon whose opinion re
liance may be placed. f
Independence, Mo, July 17,1854-
Dear Sir, —In my wanderings to and fro
in this region, I find myself, to-night, in this
pleasant town, where "are sortie fine buildings,
good land, and enterprising citizens.
’ T -Thd G6uri’hbWe' l i %hufi^diih I ttle dMr¥bf
Tagti/W truly hp I %l6kaWthulTdiiffi,l‘ lJ .'l i h%W! : irb
kft® WkidpfhoVelsj'ai
Os a gtoai (jwfef
({?!! IwllsesJ’&o. i (0 jtpwh, f .'fiiei land,
•J?d bqaufifgl, qind ( yjelds,.'mjpieflfo,. .of
M.jhai can.be jaised ftijihet .Ifnited .Siqles.
ve sprnp
of the corn was so tall that the tallest man
sitting Omthe tallest' hoibe in 'Massachusetts
wonljl be uppble tpreaefi, lha .top, and, jbat,
|ooi when U .haßguslponjmeppsd (b hassle,put*
ana before the stalk has cptppjeiep |IS-grp»lK.
| am told that wfien.ihe cprn.is har,vestod, only.
the,tallest of the laborers cah reach pomc of
the com without breaking down, the stnjlts,
■Tugging from lhe present appearance .of the
corp fie re, and of lhalin Illinois, when I pas?
sed through that Stnto, the ycld.of this will
be nearly or quite twice as muoh as that.. In
ftjet, 1 never saw any thing lifie -the corn
here, nor “ dreamed of it in my philosophy.”
A very intelligent and systematic Belgian far
mer, in Kansas, a few days since, gave me'
some of his experience in farming, with hired
slaves for his laborers. According to his ex
perience, last year, which was not so good as
some, on account of tho dry weather, he will
have this Fall, when his harvesting is done,
as follows:
Cornpciglity.five acres, with sixty-five bushels to the
acre, at 50cls. a bushel, amounting t 0.., 33,763
Wheat 10 acres, 30 bushels lo tlio acre, at
81,00, making 300
Oats, 36 acres, 40 bushels to the acre, at
$3O, making ■• •• 913
Timothy gross, 13 acrca, 3 tons to the aero,
810,00, making •. 340
Clover, 2J acres for the swine
Potatoes, 1 acre, 300 bushels, at 40c.,mak’g 80
These products amount to $3,594. In ad
dition to this he has 150 swine, which, when
ready for the knife, will 230 lbs. each,
if as good last year, and which at six cents a
pound, will come to $2,070. Deducting 18
bushels of corn at 50 cents a bushel for each
hog, will leave $720; which, added to the
first, makes $4,314. The work on his farm,
including the garden, general improvements,
die., is done by five men, or 1 hired slaves,
while the owner simply superintends it.
From ten to fifteen hund red pounds of hemp
to the acre is an average crop for this land,
and the price the year past has been from 120
to 150 dollars a ton. Pumpkins, melons, ap
pies, peaches, and fruit of all kinds, grow here
in abundance ifplanted. Lei it be remembered
that such, also, is the land in Kansas Territo
ry ; for if isof the same general character.
Lent be remembered that such crops as the
above nre raised without a spoonful of ma.
nure, and iluct I know. 1 have seen corn
growing on land that has been planted for
twenty years in succession, and there was no
apparent difference between it, and the corn
on new land. Also, let the New England
farmers remembr, that to raiso from 60 to 80
bushels of corn to the uore here.no hoeing
us required. The only 'work requisite after
planting is to plow amongst it a few times,
an’d such work ns “ weeding,” “ half hilling"
is 'unknown. The price of this land is, for
unimproved, from 25 to 40 dollars an acre ;
and for improved land, from 40 to 100 dol
lars. This is the price of all land bordering
on the Territory for several miles south of
the mouth of (he Kansas river, and it will
soon be higher—for there is comparatively
hut little such land -in the United Slates as this.
The land all through the Kansas river val
ley, in the Territory, is equally as good as
that above described, and worth as much to
the acre, and will produce as large crops.
Is it to be wondered at, than, that every
young man in Missouri, and every old man,
also, who has not already a farm of the same
quality of his own,should be rushing.into (he
Territory to secure 100 acres, for $2,25 an
acre, when the knows it will be worth from
$25 to $lOO, the moment he gets his title T
Rather is it not strange, and wonderful that,
at feast, one hundred thousand persons from
New Englacld, are not on their way to this
garden of the world, at this moment T That
such would be the case I have no doubt, if
the good qualities of the land, climate, &0.,
were understood by them os well as they are
by those in Missouri on the borders. The
rush from this State to Kansas Territory, is
not so mnch to secure a foothold for slatery
there, ns to secure a fortune, notwithstanding
what the newspapers say about it. No ;
most nho go from here are young men, in
want of farms ; and slavery, to say the least,
is a secondary matter with them, if indeed,
they are not opposed to its introduction into
Kansas, which is certainly the case with ma
ny.
You ask, when is the best lime for New
Englond men to goto Kansas 7 Unquestion
ably the best time is this Fall. By coming
now, they can select from the best of the land
now open to settlement, as well as gel their
cabins made, and their [and plowed ready, for
Spring work can be done with comfort, such
as splitting rails, fencing, building bouses,
&c., during most of the season. Besides, if
they wo’dhe represented in the first Territori
al Legislature of Kansas, ihejt must be on the
ground soon.
At some other time, 1 will speak of the in
ducement for mechanics to settle in Kansas
nnd western Missouri. * *
A youngster who had commertoed the.
study of natural, philosophy, was one doy
asked to mention the properties of heal, to
which he replied:
“ The chief property of heat is that it ex
pands bodies while cold contracts them,.”
“ Very good. Can you give me a fami
liar example I”
“ Yes, sir. In the summer, when it is hot,
the day is long: while in when the
day is cold, it becomes short.”
m jpSn tbK f
W -B
fe;< | £ y
K?jr \ *"
-i"
ll’ftnr.
S'U .-.: *'<;>'••; ■••'J >A± mi',- r't,«-.• , -ijT Air'*
•nOndastSatueday morning a young 1 lady
named';Butsaii' 'Riasingeri 'lhen onttvisitto
herbr6thery : neftr' Briokertville, thia'cdunty',
attempted (d comntU suicide by outting-her
throalWirhet razor. ' Whett disedvWecTshe
was iha Joor in her rodn» with a
doep gnsh-ia.her throat from which the blood
waslpouriflgin Idrgeqebhlities,'hef '/Whole
per^\a^u^
ereu. ’A’ messenger tV£s immediately .des
patched Ipr DrV Sheaffer, who arrived’soon
after add' dressed'the wound, with no hope,
however, of her recovery.
Previous to thp arrival of the doctor, shp
modosighs for paper and ink, which being
procur.ed, she wrote out, notwithstanding the
great exliaOstion under which she labored, a
history.-pf her wrongs, and tpa, motives
which prompted her to. commit the act.
From this statement, U Wduld nppear that
some three years ago, she was enticed away
front her home and seduced under a promise
of marriage by a man named , agent
either of the Pennsylvania Railroad, Compa
ny or an officer on the Columbia Railroad.
During this lime sho ascertained from, some
source, that was a married man, al
though he invariably contradicted it, still
promising her marriage whenever.some mat
ters connected with his business were finally
settled. In this way he allayed her fears,
and induced her to remain with him, introdu
cing her everywhere os his wife, and living
with her as such at whatever place they boar
ded. Finally, however, growing weary of
his victim—or having perhaps, imposed upon
some other, he sought -an opportunity to
quarrel with her — charging her with crime
of a heinous nature, and threatening her
with exposure and the severest penalties of
the law, if she ever dared to importune him
for support, or by any means sought to con
nect his name with her own.
Under these circumstances, friendless and
Unprotected, abandoned and accused of crime
by one for whom she gave up all—friends —
relatives and home, she impiously, it may be,
but still in anguish and bitterness of soul re
solved to end her troubles and life together.
The dark feature in the whole transaction,
and one which stamps as a villain of
the most infamous cast, is the crime which
he intimated he would fasten upon her.—
Ilia object in doing this was doubtless to ter
rify her, and to prevent her from making any
disclosures which might criminate him.
In the statement which she made, under
the circumstances before alluded to,she slates,
that at three several times was she eneiente ;
that look her to a female doctress
named Shaw who resides at No, 110 North
16.sireet, Philadelphia, where abortion was
produced through the agency of Mrs. Shaw,
and that she was compelled tosiibmit through
fear of .
This is in substance the statement she
madoj and which was subsequently placed in
proper form and subscribed to before Esq.,
Erb. We learn that,a warrant has been is
sued for the arrest of——, and it is to be
hoped that he will soon be arrested, and
made to suffer in connection with l|is vile as
sociate Mrs. Shaw, the extreme penalty of
the law for Iheir outrage and crimes.
Miss Rtssinger has been represented to us,
as a young lady of more than ordinary intel
ligence, and highly prepossessing appearance,
and her unhappy connexion with the wretch
who ruined her, together with the act, which
in all probability has ere this terminated her
life, has caused a deep and universal gloom
in the neighborhood where she long resided.
The guilty party to the above transaction
not having been arrested yet, we have thought
proper to suppress his name for the present.
—Lancaxter Examiner.-
STOLEN CHILD RECOVERED.
Some two years since a little girl about
eight years of age was stolen from her pa
rents in New York, and so effectually con
cealed were the arrangements of the abduc
tors that all efforts to reclaim the missing
child proved abortive. Recently, however,
suspicion was excited that the girl had been
stolon by parlies in this city, who were bring
ing her up ns their own ; nnd oecordingly, in
company with a friend, the mother yesterday
came hi'her, nnd commenced a search for the
lost one, having first obtained thu aid of a
mnle friend, well acquainted with the circum
stances. The first thing to be discovered was
the residence nf the kidnappers, and this af
ter patient and protracted search nnd inquiry,
being found out, the mother nt once proceeded
to the premises, and knocking nt the door it
was opened by her own daughter, between
whom and the mother there was a mutual
recognition. The woman of (he house, how
ever, persisted in claiming tho child as hers,
and threatened summary vengence upon any
onu who should attempt to remove her. But
the mother strong jh right, was not to be in
timidated by threats, and accordingly, taking
her daughter to the Market street depot,
jumped in the cars, and a moment afler was
beyond pursuit.
The man and woman with whom the girl
had,been living reside in Prospect street, and
,the former has hitherto born a fair reputation,
beingforeman in one of the largest manufac
turing estblishmenis in the city. Both are
shid to have been furious at the discovery of
their viltany ; the girl however, was over
joyed at their discomfiture, and occompiamed
her mother with eager pleasure.
Newark Mercury, 23 i.
ToMicy how’s all your folks f AH well,
but Growler—he’s got the bow-wowel com
■plaint.”
'ThrweWtirrM^
alorv iSfdityh of.jjfen
'BrodWh'ttifd ft#Wa3iswf '|u«t
,|ep. minute*>rqre. Of ttoorM TO"wduH &
d-lamp
afifl mffviqll' her dwnatorjP,
:ift thirteen
iff^ermd^totiMetfiia( 7 me^T— ' 4^'1
■-■■■’ aWfl ■ btimf; *®
ns near as I cart-guess, ’(was welljm'Sh M
hadn't fccWte!
VVhfil w’ (nika^n’l ; tjtfidn’i Jkp ow no mdre’ji
jtli&
’''timd; tbejfhM i'uchj.r
about war; Twan’lno kse iq
ipeaKftitii’SViildrfenj^for iheywoulJh’iknow j
and, so after I, had Waited lil| I couldn’t Waft
no longer,'t boiincfed put of l»d t anil dowp
stairs" L went. ‘I Went tight intolhebdltery
and raised the WifidowtoWards Mr. Blank’*,
end says I " Mrtii In'a' ininttie I
heard her jump qutdf bdd and raise the Win
dow^andsaySahe!
“ Why, Mrs. Soberly, what on earth’* the
matter 1" “Matter I" says I—speaking low,
bccaiise I didn’t want any body to hear—
“ matter I Mrs. Blank,, do tell the if you
have seen anything of my husband 1”
1 “ Your husband !’’ *ay* she, “ you didn’t
suppose I’d got him, did youl” and. then
speaking almost in a whisper, says the—
“ Look here—w hat on earth does this
mean? have you seen anything of my hus
band ?” Then we both began to think some
thing had happened, certainly ; and in about
two minutes I was dressed and over to Mrs.
Blank’s. Well, we concluded to atep over to
Mr, Quiet’s, and start him out for a search :
but we hadn’t got half way across the street,
talking along, when we heard the Window
shove up ; and Mrs. Quiet, says she,
“ Who’s there ?” Says I, “ It’s me.” “ Well,*’
says she, “ do for pity’s sake, tell me if you
have seen anything of my husband J"
Now, wasn’t here a prelfy pickle T Well,
to make a long story short, we went up that
street clear to the school house, and back on
t’other side, and not a woman did wo find,
but what wits wondering t chat Had become,
of her husband I
Well, just as we got to our gate, who
should we see there but my husband and Mr.
Blank ! Mr. Soberly,” Says I, a little spunky,
“ will you just tell me what this all means?”
“ What it means,” says he, just as cool as
if- nothing had happened—“ well, Mrs. Sober
ly—ahem—l should be very glad to gratify
you, if I could, but the truth is—ahem—that
I don’t ‘ Know Nothing’ about It!”
Well, from that time to this, I go to bed
when 1 get ready, without asking any ques
tions ; and if I find Mr. Soberly there in the
morning, that’s all I care for—for I’d just
give him to know that I’m as good a Know
Nothing as he is.
MHT
Ps7Tgr7!T^nitrn~if
3. J .I
feet h
Some lime ago Considerable attention was
directed to an ingenious invention fqr the con*
veyance of packages through a tube, of any
length, by the force of atmospheric pressure.
At the present session of Congress the inven*
tor, a Mr. Ithiel S. Richardson, presented a
petition asking an appropriation to construct
a line between Washington and Baltimore, to
test the value of the invention. A special
committee on the subject was appointed by
the Senate, which, after due investigation,.has
reported a bill authorising the construction of
a line of this telegraph between the cities named,
under the supervision of the Postmaster, Gen
eral. It is now so late in the session, and
there is so much other very important busi
ness, befor Congress, that it is doubtful wheth
er this bill can meet the consideration which
it deserves ; but the experiment is well worth
trying, as the plan has been examined by sci
entific men and pronounced feasible. The
electro-magnetic telegraph was tried between
Washington and Baltimore in the same way
as is proposed in this instance, and its useful
ness being thus demonstrated, it was imme
diately extended far and wide over the Union,
Properly speaking, the pew invention is not
a telegraph, but a machine for the conveyance
of packages. The plan contemplates the
transmission of the mails, and should it be
adopted for that purpose, it will render the
government independent of railroads, at lha
same time that far greater speed is attained
and all danger of mail robberies during trans
mission avoided.
Matt Ward arrived in Louisville one day
last week. The next day The Courier
chronicled the following incident;
Whipping a School Mistreeg.~~ A. very
esiimahle lady, a teacher in one of the city
schools, was attacked by a woman with a
club, yesterday evening, in the neighborhood
of Jackson and Gray-sls. It appears that
the woman felt herself aggrieved because the
teacher had found it necessary to correct, in
a gentle manner, a refractory child of Iho
pugnacious woman, who- had been sent to
learn something besides warfare, as she could
doubtless have learned the savage arts at
home. Thanks to a gentleman who inter
fered at the lime, the insulted teacher was
not seriously injured. We hand the name
of this heroic woman (Mrs. Adkins)'down
to posterity ns n name well worthy to be
classed among those whose bantlings are su
perior to (he rules of school discipline.
Parsoit 8., was truly'a pious man, and at
the long graces which always followed the
meals, he and the whole family knell except
the parson’s brother, who being o’er much
fat, usually stood with his back to the table
and overlooking the garden. Ono day, it
was summer-lime, the parson being unusually
favored, not appearing to notice the fidgetty
movementslof his brother, who kept twisting
about until finding no end to bis thanks, he
broke in with —
“ Cut it short, Parson, cut it short; thd
cows are in the garden playing h-~li with
the cabbages.”
A parson having the misfortune to admit
as a lodger into his house an individual of bad
reputation named Bell, turned him out the
other day with the remark, that he would
never keep a bell in his house that panted
hanging.
A KWOW-HOTHINQ AT.ARwr
ATMOSPHERIC TELEGRAPE