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A River' Adventure.
In the summer of 18 ~L was engaged
with a' young, mannarned Lyman Kemp, in
(locating, land lols along the Wabash, in Indi
ana-. I had gone-'out partly for my health,
and partly to accommodate one who.had, ev-.
or been a noble friend to me, and who had
purchased a great- deal of government land.
At Davenport be was taken sick, and after
watching with him for a.week, in.hopes that;
be.would- soon recover, I found that he bad
a settled fever, and as the physician said be.
voilld not probably be able to move on un
deco month, I determined to push on alone.
So I.obtained a good nurse,.and. having seen
that my friend had everything necessary to
his comfort which money could procure, I
left him.
As good fortune wottfd have it, I found a
party of six men bound on the very route I
was going, and I waited one day for the sake
of their company. At length we set out,
with three pack horses-to carry our luggage,
and I soon found 1 had lost nothing by wait*
ihg, for my companions were agreeable and
entertaining. They were going on to St.
Joseph’s where they had land already located,
and where they, had mills upon the river, in
tending to gel out lumber during the remain
der of the season.
.On the third day from Loganport we.
reached Walton’s settlement on the Little'
River, having left the Wabash on the morn
ing of that day. It was, well on into the
evening when we 1 reached the little log-built
inn ol the settlement, and we were glad
enough of the shelter—‘for ere we had fairly
got under cover, the rain commenced to fall
in great drops, and thickly too. And more
still had I to be thankful for. My horse
began to show a lameness in one of his hind
legs, and- when P'/eaped from the saddle I
found that his foot pained him much, as I
child tell by the manner in which he lifted it
from the. ground. I ordered the ostler to
bathe it with cold water, and then went into
(be bouse, where we found a good substantial,
supper, and comfortable quarters for the night
—that is comfortable quarters for that section,
qpd that lime.
About ten o’clock just after I had retired,
and just as I was falling into a grateful
drowse, f was startled by the shouts of men
and the barking of dogs, directly under my
window. jVs the noise continued ; I arose
and threw on my clothes and went down.
“What is it ?” f asked of the landlord,
who stood in the entry way.
“Ah—don’t you know, stranger?” said
the host, returning. “You’ve beard of Gus
tua Karl, perhaps !’’
' Who in the West at that time had not
heard of him?—the most reckless, daring,
and murderous robber that ever cursed a
country. I told the host 1 had heard of him
often.
“Well,” he resumed, “the villain was here
only this afternoon, and murdered and robbed
a man just up the river. We’ve been out
after him, bat he’s gin us the slip. We
tracked him as far as the upper, creek, and
there he came out pn the bank, fired at us
and killed one of our horses, and then dove
into the woods. We set the dogs on, but
thpy lost him.”
“And you’ve come back bootless?” I said.
“Yes,” the landlord growled. “But,” he
added, with a knowing shake of his head,
“ha can’t run clear much longer. The
country is in arms, and he’ll either leave
these huntin’s, or be dropped,”
“What sort of a man is he ?” I asked.
“The very last man in the world you
would take for Gus Karl. He is small—not
a bit over five feet six; with light curly hair,
a smooth white face, and not very stout.
But, love ye, he’s quick as lightning, and his
eye’s got fire in it. He dresses in all-sorts of
shapes, but generally like a common hunter.
Oh ! he’s the very devil, I do believe.”
After the tub full of whisky and water
which the host had provided was all drank,
the crowd began to disperse, and shortly af
terwards I went up again to bed, and this
time slept on uninterrupted till morning.
I had just eaten my breakfast, and had
gone out to the front door, when a horseman
came dashing up to the place, himself and
animal all covered with mud. It had been
raining all night. The first thing the new
comer did was to inquire for me. I answered
at once to the name, and he then informed
me that Lyman Kemp could not live, and
tha|t ho wished to see me as soon as possible.”
. j’The doctor says be must die,” said the
messenger, “and the poor fellow now only
asks for life long enough to see you.”
“Poor Lyman!” I murmured to myself.
“So young—so hopeful—with so many
friends and relatives in his far-off home—
j * a * ten down to die in a strange land!”
told the man I would set out on ray return
as Possible. He ate some breakfast,
Md then resumed his journey, being bound
as far up as the Pottawatomie border.
.. *»?: kill, and then sent for my
a k’ ,!er disappointment awaited
£ ‘ fo “1 d the . anlmal ’s fool swollen very
badly, and tt pained him so that he could
I shn^t/t '’V 1, ® ad [ he road been good
have keen lempted to try him, but I
Knew m some places the mud would be deep,
t went to the host and asked him if he could
«■ or . sell me a horse. Hecould do neither.
bafiiML s P? re . ho »e had been shot the night
not i *ke Wabash robber. There was
anv a m ° rSß ' n *ke P^ ace to be obtained for
siahl* i°H nt raone y- I returned to the
[( my horse out, but he could not
not Wll * l an y degree of ease. I could
1 was in despair.
. nn 7 oo * t e " “id mine host, I began to des
pona, “can t you manage a canoe 1”
les—very well,” I told him.
THE AGITATOR.
m&mxf to t&e 3S*tttt#ioft (if tfce of iFmfcom tin of ©taUD# itrfovm.
WHILE THERE SHALL BE A. WRONG UKRIGHTED, AND UNTIL 11 MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
VOL. IV.
‘•Then that’s ydur.besl Way., The cuirent
is strong ibis 'morning, and without a stroke
of the paddle ’twould lake -you along as fast
as a Korso would wade tnrough the mud.
You shall have onfe of my canoes for just
what it is worth, and ye can sell it at Lo
gonport for as much.” ; •
I caught the proposition instantly;' for I
saw it was a good one. •' ■
“If ye daren’t shoot the rapids,” added the
landlord, “you can easily shoulder the canoe,
andback it round. ’Tisn’t far.”' 11
I found the boat to be’ a well fashioned
dugout," large enough to’ bear four men with
ease, and I at once paid (he'owner his price
—ten dollars—and then had my luggage
brought down. I gave directions about the
treatment of my horse, and then put off.
The current was quite rapid—say four or
five miles an hour—but not at at all turbu
lent, and I soon made up my mind that it
was far better than riding on horseback.
The banks of the river were thickly covered
with large trees, and I saw game in plenty,
and more than once I was templed to fire the
contents of my pistols to some of the boldest
“varmints but I had no time to waste, sa
I kept on. Only one thing seemed wanting,
and that was a companion ; but I was des
tined to find - one soon enough.
It was shortly after noon, and I had just
eaten my dinner of bread and cold meat,
when I came (b a place where the river
made an abrupt bend to the right, and a little
further on I came to an abrupt basin where
the currents formed a perfect whirlpool. I
did not notice it till my canoe got into it; and
found myself going round instead of going
ahead. I plied my wood paddle with all my
power, and soon succeeded’ in shootihe but
from the current; but in doing so\ran
myself upon the low, sandy shore. The
effort had fatigued me a little, and as I found
myself thus suddenly moored I resolved to
rest a few minutes.
I had been in this position some ten min
utes when I was star led by hearing a foot
ball close by me, and on looking up ( saw a
man at that side of my boat. He was n
young looking person, not over two-and
thirty, and seemed to be a hunter. He wore
a wolf-skin shirt, leggins of red leather, and
a cap of bear skin.
“Which way are you bound, stranger?”
he asked in a pleasing tone.
“Down to Loganport,” t replied.
“That’s fortunate. I wish to go there
myself,” the stranger resumed. “What say
you to my taking your second paddle, and
keeping, you company ?”
“I should like it,” I told him frankly ;
“I’ve beep wanting company.” .•*
“So have I,” added the hunter. “And
I’ve been wanting somo belter mode of con
veyance than these worn out legs through
the forest.”
“Come on,” I said, and as I spoke he
leaped into the canoe, and having deposited
his rifle in the bow, he took one of (he pad
dles, and told me he was ready when I was.
So we pushed off, and were soon clear of the
whirlpool.
For an hour we conversed freely. The
stranger told me his name was Adams, and
that his father lived in Columbus. He was
out now on a hunting and prospecting expe
dition with some companions, who had gone
to Loganport by horse and having got sep
arated from them in the night,'had lost his
horse into the bargain. He said he had a
great sum of money about his person, and
that was one reason why be disliked to travel
in the forest.
Thus he opened his affairs to roe, and I
was fool enough to be equally frank. 1 ad
mitted that I had some money, and told him
my business ; and by a most quiet and un
presuming course of remark, he drew from
the the fact that I had money enough to pur
chase forty full lots.
Finally the conversation lagged, and I
began to give my companion a acftni
ny. I sat in the stern of the and he
was about amidships, and facing me. • He
was not a large, man, nor was he tall. His
hair was of a flaxen hue, and hung in long
curls about his neck; his features were
regular and handsome; and his complexion
very light. But the color of his face was
not whut one would call fair. It was a cold
bloodless color, like pale marble. And for
the first time, too, I now looked paiticularly
at his eyes. They were grey in Color, and
had the brilliancy of glaring ice. Their
light was intense, bvt cold and glittering like
a snake's. When I thought of his age I set
him down for not much over thirty.
Suddenly a sharp cold shudder ran through
my frame, and my heart, leaped with a wild
thrill. As sure as fate—l knew it —Ihere
could be no doubt—l had taken into roy ca
noe, and into my confidence, Gustus Karl,
the Wabash Robber! For a few moments I
feared my emotions would betray me.- 1
looked-carefully over his person again, and I
knew I was not mistaken. I could look back
now and see how cunningly he had led me
on to a confession of my circumstances—
how he had made me toll my affairs, and re
veal the state of my finances. What a fool
I had been! Bui ’twas to late to think of the
past, I had enough to look out for what was
evidently to come.
I at length managed to overcome all my
outward emotions, and then I began to watch
my companion more sharply and closely.—
My pistols were hoth handy, and I knew they
were both in order, for I had examined them
in the forenoon when I thought of firing at
some game.
' They were in the breast pocket of my
coat, which pockets had been made for them,
and I could reach them at any instant. An
other hour passed away, and by that time I
had become assorted that the robber would
WELLSBORQ, TIOGA COLKTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. OCTOBER 15, 1857.
make do attempt upon me till after night-fall.
He said that it would be convenient-that we
were together, for w 6 could, run. all night,, as
one could steer while the other slept,
“Aye,” 1 added with a smile;: “that is good
for me, for every hour is valuable. I would
not miss of meeting my friend for the world.”
- ‘tOh 1 you will meet him, never fear,” said
my companion. -
Ah—hespokethat with too much meaning.
I understood it well. I knew wbiit that sly
tone,dnd that strange gleam of the eye meant.
He meant that he would put me op the- road
to meet poor Kemp in the other world I 1
wondered only now that I had not detected
the robber when first I saw him, for the ex
pression of his face was so heartless, so icy—
and then his eyes had such a wicked 100k —
that the most unpracliced physiognomist
could not have failed to ’ delect the villain at.,
once.
During, the rest of the afternoon we con
versed some but not so freely as before. I
could see that the villain’s eyes were not so
frankly bent on me as he spoke and that he
seemed inclined to avoid my direct glances.
These movements on his part were not stud
ied, or even intentional ; but they were in
stinctive, as though his very nature led him
thus. At length night came on. We ate
our supper, and smoked our pipes, and final
ly my companion proposed that I .should
sleep before he did. At first I thought of ob
jecting, but a few moment's reflection told me
that I had better behave as though I was an
honest man ; so I agreed to this proposition.
He took my seat at the stern, and I moved
further forward, and having removed the
thwart npbn which my companion had been
sitting, 1 spread my cloak in the bottom of
the canoe, and then having placed my valise
for a pillow, I lay down. As soon as possi
ble I drew out one of my pistols, and beneath
the cover of a cough I cocked it. Then I
moved my body so that my arril would be at
liberty, and grasping my weapon firmly, with
my finger upon the guard, {- drew up my
mantle, slouched my hat and then settled
down for my watch.
. Fortunately for me the moon was up, and
though the forest trees threw a shadow upon
me, yet the beams fell upon Karl, and I could
see his every movement. We were well ~int
o the Wabash, having entered it about three
o’clock.
“You will call me at midnight,” I said,
drowsily.
“Yes,” he returned.
“Good night.”
“Good night—and pleasant dreams. I'll
have you further on your way than you think
ere you wake up again.”
, “Perhaps *6,thought I to"myself 1 , as I
lowered my head, and pretended to lower
myself to sleep.
For half an hour my companion steered
the canoe very well, and seemed to take but
little notice of me; but at the end of that
time 1 could perceive that he - became more
uneasy. 1 commenced to snore with a long
regularly drawn breath, and on the instant
the villain started as starts, the hunter when
he hears the tread of game in the woods.
But hark ! Aha—there was before one
lingering fear in my mind that I might shoot
the wrong man but it was gone now. As
the fellow stopped the motion of the paddle,
I distinctly heard him mutter :
“Oho, my dear sheep—you little dreamed
that Gus Karl was your companion. But
he’ll do you a good turn. If your friend is
dead you shall follow him, and I lake your
traps to pay for your passage to Heaven!”
I think these were the very words. At
any rale they were their drift. As he thus
spoke he noiselessly drew in the paddle, and
then rose to his feet. I saw him reach over'
his left shoulder, and when he brought back
his hand he had a huge bowie knife in it. t
could see the blade gleam in the pale moon*
light, and I saw Karl run his thumb albng
the edge, and then feel the point I My heart
beat fearfully, and my breathing was hard.
It was with the utmost exertion that I could
continue my snoring, but I managed lo do it
without interruption. Slowly and noiselessly
the foul wretch approached me. Oh I his
step would not have awakened a hound—and
his long gleaming knife was half raised. 1
could hear his breathing plainly, and I could
hear the grating of his teeth, as he nerved
himself for the stroke.
The villain was by rny side and he mea
sured the distance from his band to my heait
with his eye. In his left baud he held a thick
handkerchief all wadded up. That was to
stop my mouth with. Every nerve in my
body was now strung, and my heart stood
still.as death. Of course my snoring ceased
and at that instant the huge knife was raised
above my bosom ! Quick as thought I bro’t
my pistol up—the muzzle was within a fool
of the robber’s heart—he uttered a quick cry
—I saw the bright blade quiver in the moon
light, but it came nol-upon me. I pulled the
trigger and the last fear was past. 1 had
thought the weapon might miss fire, but it
did not. There was a sharp report, and as
I sprang up and backed I heard a fierce yell,
and at the same moment the robber fell for
ward, his head striking ray knee as it came
down.
Weak and faint I sank back, but a sudden
tip of the canoe brought me to ray senses,
and I went aft and took the,paddle. As soon
as the boat’s head was once more right, I
turned my eyes upon the form in the bottom
of the canoe. I saw it quiver—only o slight
spasmodic movement —and then all was still.
All that night I sat there at my watch and
steered my bark. I had my second pistol
ready, for I knew not surely that the wretch
was dead. He might be waiting to catch me
off my guard, and then shoot mo. But the
night passed slowly and drearily away, and
I when the morning broke the form had not
moved. Then I stepped forward and found
that Guslus Karl was dead ! He had fallen
with bis knife true to its aim, for it had struck
very near where my heart must have been,
and the point was driven so far inlo. the solid
wood that I had to work hard to pull it out,
and harder still to unclasp the marble fingers
that closed with dying madness about the
handle.
Swiftly Sowed the tide, and ere the sun
again sank to rest I had. reached LoganpotU
The authorities knew the face of Gustus Karl
at once, and when I told them roy story, they
poured a,thousand thanks on my head. A
purse was raised, and the offered reward put
with it, and tendered to me. I took the sim
ple reward from the'generous citizens, while
the remainder I directed should be distributed
among those who had suffered most from the
h robber’s depredations.
sick and miserable. He
iind the doctors had
well mao
I foun3"Kena£
was burning with
shut him up in a room wl
must soon have suffocated.
-> “Water—water! give mo water I” he
gasped.,
“Haven’t you had any?” I asked.
He told me no. -I threw open the windows
—sent for a pail of ice water, and was on
the point of administering it when the old doc
tor came in. He held up his hands in horror
and told me it would kill the sick man. But
I forced him back and Kemp drank the grate
ful beverage. He drank- deeply and then
slept. The perspiration poured from him
like rain, and when he awoke again his skin
was moist, and his fever was turned. In
eight days he satl in his saddle by my side,
and together we started for Little River. , At
Walton’s settlement I found my horse fully
recovered, and when I offered to pay for his
keeping the host would take nothing. The
story of my adventure on the river had got
there ahead of me, and this was the land
lord’s gratitude.
A Fighting Turk.
During the operations of the allies in the
Crimea, it was resolved to carry the water in
from a beautiful spring of the finest kind to
the camp. Leather pipes, or hose, were em
ployed, which -were laid on the ground. One
morning while the water was being supplied,
the minaret sounded to prayer, and one of
the Turkish soldiers immediately went flop
on his knees to praise Allah. Unfortunately
he went down right upon the hose, and bis
weight consequently stopped the current of
that “first of elements.”
“Gel up,” cried an English soldier.—
“ Voules vous aces la bonte, mon cher Mon
sieur te 'l'urque,'' cried a Frenchman with
his native politeness, "to gel up.
“That ain’t the way to make a Turk move,”
cried another; “this is the’dodge." 'So say
ing, be knocked his turban off.
Still the pious Mussulman went on with
his devotions.
“I’ll make him stir his slumps,” said an
Englishman, giving him a remarkably smait
kick. To the wonder of all, still the untur
baned, well-kicked follower of the Prophet
went on praying as though he was a forty
horse parson.
“Hoot away, mon—l’ll show you bow we
serve obstinate folk, a auld Reekie,” quietly
observed a Scotchman. • He was however,
prevented, for the Turk having finished his
“ Allah-ms-en-allah rose and began to take
off his coat—then to roll up his sleeves—and
then to bedew his palms with saliva, and then
to put himself in the most approved boxing
altitude, a la Yankee Sullivan.
He then advanced in true 'Tom Hyer style
to the Englishman who had" kicked him pn
the lumbar region.
“A ring! a ring!” shouted the soldiers
and sailors, perfectly astonished to see a Turk
such an adept in the fistic art.
The Englishman, nothing loth to have-a
bit of fun with a Turk of such a truly John
Bull stale of mind, set to work, but found he
had met his toaster —in five minutes he had
received his quantum suff. As the Turk
coolly replaced his coal and turban, he
turned round and said to the admiring by
atanders, in the pure brogue—
“ Bad luck to ye, ye spalpeens ; when yere.
afther kicking a Turk, I’d advise ye the pext
time to jist be sure he’s not an
The mystery was solved—our Turk was
a Tiperary man.
'Arsenic Wouldn’t Kill Him. —Jenkins
is, a soaker of the most inveterate type.—
“Blue ruin” flows as smoothly down his ali
mentary canpl, as prayers from the lips of
one “embarrassed” treasurer, and
ns the steps ,Canada-ward of another,- He
had discovered there was a “Bourbon”among
us, and had visited the prison many times.—
But the human system will rebel against op
pression, some day or other, and at last little
wriggling snakes began to crawl up from the
soles of -Jenkins’ boots, growing larger as
they crept higher. He tried to slaughter
them with whiskey, but that was their natu
ral drink, and the more he dosed them the
larger they grew. Jenkins got tired of life,
and taking a mighty dose of arsenic, laid
himself down to die. It was a hard struggle,
but at length the mineral succumbed, and the
old soaker once more got up to figbtiho bat
tle of life a little longer. An acquaintance,
hearing of the unsuccessful falo de se, shook
his head contemptuously; and remarked, —
“Stupid fool, to have been- drinking dock
whiskey for twenty years and then think
arsenic would kill him.”— Cleoe. Herald,
“Pbax, Miss C.,” said « gentleman the
other evening, “why aie the ladies s.o fond of
officers'!” “How stupid,” replied Miss; is
it.nol perfectly proper and natural that a
young lady should like a good offer sir!” .
<£otccsj)onOrncf.
Pabkville, Mo., Sept. 19, 1857,
Friend Cobb: As I happen to be in a
border town in Missouri- ro-day, { will write
you a Tew' lines so you can see what “speci
mens of humanity ”we have out here. The
only topic with them just now is, cursing the
“d—d abolitionists” and drinking whiskey
and playing cards. I have seen more drunken
men here lying about the streets'to-day than
I have before since my arrival in the West.
This is one of the strongest Border Ruffian
towns of its size I ever saw. Many of its
citizens participated in the- struggle which
has passed in and are.just as ready
ns ever to go over and work in their “holy
cause.”
The place contains about 600 inhabitants,
and is a little larger in size than Quindaro,
which is about five mites bielow here/ It is
an old place—about eighteen years since the
first building was erected. The leading
man—Col. Geo. S. Park, is one of its oldest
settlers, and to him the place is much indebt-.
’d'fetjjisenlerpri3e„ He was formerly editor
—a conservative
so to suit its
~pttehe4jijs
of tho'^ar
paper—and most to?
patrons, and they accordingly
press and type in (he bottom of the Missouri
River where it now lies. [ The site of this
town is very good, but sadly In deficient of
n good landing which is the main-slay of,a|
town on this River. There are two hotels
here, several stores, any (quantity of - grog
shops, a printing office, church, school, &c.
There seems to be considerable talk in
regard to the Parkville & Grand River Rail
road. Many think that this Road will be
built to intersect with the Hannibal & St.
Joseph Road at P/allsburgj When completed
these will both be paying Roads, for over
them will pass (he entire travel from Kansas
and Northern Missouri to Chicago, The I
trade from this section must, till these Roads!
are-finished, all.-ga to St. Louis. Millions of
dollars are paid Snhually to St. Louis, which
would go to Chicago if these Roads were
completed. The Hannibal & St. Joseph
Rond is expected to be completed by |he Ist
of July next. i
Since Quindaro has been started this place
is very dull. They depended Upon the Wy
andotte and Delaware Indians principally for.
their support, and (be greater part of them
now, instead of crossing the river to trade at
this place go to Quindaro. A Steam Ferry
-Boat is on the way from Cincinnati, and will
be here in about' three weeks to ply between
these two places. ! - -
The emigration to Kansas this fall will
not be as large it s wasj anticipated. The
approaching October Election looks gloomy
and will frighten many from coming before
next spring. It is impossible (o tell what
will be the result of thjis Election. If the
Free State men "have a fair chance, and they
are pledged to have by Gov. Walker—their
majority will be almost! triumphant. The
Missourians are making preparations as usual)
to invade Kansas, and no one can tell what i
the result will be. i |
But I must close soon, ] for I don’t want to
stay in this confounded town any longer than
is necessary. Yours for Freedom.
. I F. A. ROOT.
Did Habits.
A gentleman one day!overtook a traveler
moving very slowly along under the great in
convenience of a heavy stone in his pocket.
“My friend,” said the gentleman, os he ob
served the stone weighing his coat down on
one side, and greatly impeding his progress,
“why do you travel with such a heavy bur.
den at your side 1 I perceive you walk with
much difficulty." I
“What! this stone in.my pocket,” said he,
“I would not part with it for anything.”
"Would not! why P’fsaid the otjier.
“Why !” said he, “because my fatbsr apd
my grandfather carried jit before me. They
got along very well with it, and I wish to fol
low their steps.” j
“Do you derive any benefit from it 1” asked
the gentleman. !
“None that I know of, only keeping up the
good did custom,” said he.
“Did they derive any V’ asked the other,
“1 don't know, only they always carried
it,” said he, “and so will I.”
The gentleman, walked on, saying to him
self, “I love, indeed, tolsea the-good old cus
toms of our fathers honored, if it were only
out of respect to their memory ; but, really,
if my father had carried a stone in his pock
et, 1 think 1 should pay a greater respect to
his memory in laying] it aside, and saying
nothing about it, than! by carrying such a
testimony to his frailtyiwilh me through life.”
As ho still walked; he began to think,
“now this man, unwise as it seems, is not
more so than many others, perhaps not more
so than myself.” 1
So he began to cqst about in his mind,
what habitsme had which were no better than
stones in pocket, i -
“Here in the first’place,” said he, is the
use of tobacco, dieting, smoking, taking
snuff—old habi's—of iwbat use are they to
;me ?—Mere stones in my pocket—worse than
! lhal—they injure my health, render me disa
greeable, are the very opposite of neatness.
Til away with them all. Here is the snuff
box—stay—it bears {my father’s name.'—
Well, the snuff may go to the four winds'.—
The box, I will lay’aside, but tobacco, in any
of its forms 1 will use no more. Thanks to
protecting Providence my father left no tip
pling habits to ruin me and stain my memory.
Now there is one slope thrown away, and if
I have any more bad, habits kept up for cus
tom’s sake, how much soever I may become
attached to them, I [desire they may share
ike same fate.” , j
- Rates of Advertising.
Advertisements will be charged 31 per square of
fourteen lines, for one, or three insertions, and 2S
cents for every subsequent insertion. AU advertise,
moots of'less than fourteen lines considered as a
square. The following rates will be charged for
Quarterly, Half-Yearly and. Yearly advertising:—.
3 months. 6 mouths. 12 mo*a
1 Square,<l4lines,) . S 3 so §4 30 36 00'
, 2 Squares,. - . - .4 oo 600 BOQ
i column, - - - . 10 00 15 00 20 00
- 1 column,. - . -19 00 30 00 40 00
Ail advertisements not having the number of iq,
sert/ons marked upon them, will be kept in until or.
dcred out, and charged accordingly.
Posters, Handbills, Bill,and Letter Heads,and all
kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments,
executed neatly and promptly. Justices’, Consta,
hies’ and other BLANKS, constantly on hand and
printed to order.
no. nr.
When that Note was Due.
A.man in Boston (of course) was sorely par.
secuted by no avaricious business acquaint
ance, to pacify whom he was obliged to
“settle,” and not- wishing to pay over a few
hundred dollarsiu cash, he drew up a note
obligating himself to discharge the account
after a specified date or time. The creditor,
who was not noted for bis ‘‘ticking princi
pies,” was not, in justice, really entitled to
the money, but when “thirty days after date”
were expired, ha anxiously presented the
note for payment: The debtor, instead of
meeting it, replied :
“The note is not yet due, sir.”
“Bui it is,though, it reads, “thirty days
after date, I promise to pay” so and so, and
tbir.ty.ona days have elapsed since the date
thereof; and so ’
“I don’t care if tbiity-one years have
elapsed since the. date of the note, I shall still
contest for its immaturity,” answered the
debtor, interrupting the not very good-hu.
raored note bolder, who soon_msde his exit,
slamming the street-door after him, mutter
ing incoherently, about law, judgment, exe.
cutions, &c. i
In a few days both parties were before a
magistrate, who, upon concluding the inves
tigation, proclaimed that he must certainly
award “judgment” against the debtor for the
full amount of the note, and the cost of pros
ecution besides.
“And what then ?" inquired the defendant
of the judge.
. “I shall isue-an execution, if the plaintiff
desires it,” returned his honor.
“To be sure—l want one immediately,”
bawled the plaintiff, whose countenance re
vealed his delerminalon to allow no mercy,
as he ufged his way as near the judge as
possible.; . . ~ '
“You ; bra resolved upon judgment and exe
cution 1” demanded the defendant.
: “I am,” replied the judge, taking up his
pen to record the same.
“To be sure we are,” coincided the plaint
iff, with a chuckle.
“I presume your honor can spell cor
rectly said the defendant, as he picked up
his hat and sent it farther upon the table
before him.
“Insolent!” exclaimed the judge,'choking
with rage.
“Will you oblige me by carefully spelling,
and reading the first line in that ‘valuable
document,’ urged the defendant, disregarding
the anger of the^ magistrate, and directing
his attention to the note that lay before him*
The judge looked at the Dole, and then at the
defendant, but probably thinking it was best
to take it oooly, proceeded to do as requested,
amt toad aloud, in a very lucid style :
“Thirty, days after dale I prom ’
“Stop” shouted the defendant, “you don’t
read it right.
“I do 1” teas the Judge’s response.
“You don’t 1” returned the defendant, “I
thought you couldn’t spell.”
The Judge was now boiling over with rage,
and smote the desk before him so violently
with bis clenched hatjd as to cause those who
stood aboin him, including the expectant
plaintiff, to retreat a few paces in double
quick lime. '»
“Keep your temper, Judge, or we shall be
obliged to have' the case transferred to an
other court, where the magistrate understands
the art and qiystety of spelling words of one
syllabic, and don’t make a fool of himself
by kicking up a row and smashing up office
furniture. There, you may keep your seat,
and and tell those present what' the first tine
of that note says,” said the defendant with a
coolness that surprised the audience and puz
zled the judge.
Having again glanced at the document,
and appearing to detect something that had
moment escaped his perception, the
Judge proceeded to read:
“Thirty days after death I promise to
pay—’
“Right !'*. exclaimed the defendant; “you
can'spell, I see.”
“The note is not due, gentlemen, until
thirty days after death” proclaimed the
magistrate; the case is accordingly dis
missed, and the court adjourned until to
morrow morning.” w '
“What!” screamed the ■aintiff, “am I
thus fooled 1 Villian !’’ ”,
The unexpected and ludicrous conclusion
of the suit threw the whole assembly, save
the unlucky plaintiff, into an uproarious fit
of merriment, which having subsided, they
separated and dispersed. The note is not
due yet.
Why not Successful. —The young me
chanic or clerk marries and takes a house
which he proceeds to furnish twice as expen
sively as. he cdn afford, and then his wife, in
stead of taking hold to help him to earn a
livelihood, by doing her own work, must have
a hired servant to help her spend her limited
earnings.
Ten years afterwards, you will find him
struggling on under a double load of debts
and children, wondering why the luck was
always against him, while his friends regret
his unhappy destitution of financial ability.
Had they from the first been frank and honest,
he need not have been so unlucky.
The world is full of people who can’t im
agine why they don’t prosper like their neigh
bors, when the real obstacle is not in banks
.or tariffs, in public policy nor hard times, but
in their owu extravagance and heedless osten
tation.
A gentleman advertising for a wife says :
“It would be well if the lady were possessed
of a competence sufficient to secure her
against excessive grief, in case of accident
occurring to her companion.”