of Publication. rOUN'TV AGITATOR is published H°“? MomW.and mailKl *° subscribers ~o? TI, "lS™s 1 > le P riceof oXE X) OX-LAB PER ANNUM, -jgZT , „„, £ It is intended to notify orery !L term for which be bas paid shall fwiiW « lie ” “fj,,. sW mp-“Tm E Got,” on the mar- The paper will then be stopped fo! «>' P Sittance be received. By this ar a:Y Y : ca:l h B brought in debt to the 5i« r - !. the Official Paper of the County, 1 Ifir- tr,!Tjl jVcadiiy increasing circulation reach es, slJiS e „ l £ i,borhood in the County. It is sent Post Office within the county ,of i*’" 1 ?' ’ B ost conrenient post office may be iraits, ‘“//‘ftooty. sst l4 J° . ~ not exceeding 6 lines, paper inoiu id-* =~r ■ ~ ,:-=-T-t=r. For the Agitator. IIIE TIME TO DIE. , .1, early down of a summer day, . la. Era’s '“rry eyes, 1,1 heJ on earth. wiere sie mi £ hl not 8t a C oMned in Paradise, /““Jibed the curls from bet snowy brow,; f Vusd!y kissed her cheek, /, ’ deep ‘he sorrow that thrills ns now tt f 0 filtering tongue to speak. - I think of the years that have long gone by, '"There risefh a vision fair /. ffiM lv form with a beaming eyo 01 .’ a «ies of chestnut bait; ...Jnlial hand, and generons heart That »«e chilled, and stilled too sodn ; - "ridM hides— and the tears will start For the Meed who slept at noon. L ce itsni besido the weary and old 1 who are bidding us Good Bye, r v ale of life is almost told, i.’l as check the rising sigh; r * te lesb is weak, though the sonl bo strong, Ld« sorely should not grieve, J,a they who bare labored well and long 1.-.5 down to rest at eve. p it time to die 1 tis a solemn time jljt coujclb to each and all; (w even borne in every clime v -[be shadow of Death must fail, jmjoit is the shadow seems so dark, J til the nay so drear and long. Jit light and glory beam forth, and hark! Ac my bear the angel’s song. VIUCIMA 4 fascinating stranger. bv alcee -vox clarence. ‘■Hare you seen Sirs. Freelove’s new lodger ?” >sW one young English ladyof another whom (is met as she went out shopping, in the streets fVerriers, in Belgium. “.Vo,” said the other; ‘‘is he good booking ?” ■OIj, my dear, he’s such a duck of a man !” samel! the first speaker. “You know we live, wiite, and we saw him drive up to the door sscli an elegant carriage, and he had so many Kib-a proof of how rich he must be; and ia 1 saw him on the balcony, smoking a ci ib. and looking so sentimental.” -What luck that woman baa, and what a iiccefor her daughter!” observed the young lip “I hope she’ll give a party while he ws ami not forget to invite ua. But what is fanewcomer’s name?" ‘1 have not heard—something very ariato ntic, 1 should flunk, for he had such a high ii. -But there comes that dear old Belgian iiottss, who knows all about the gossip of the iaiwn: suppose we go and ask her?" And the young ladies flew to gather “further .similars about the interesting stranger. Sit-, Freelove, whose name was often on the Ip of all English travellers visiting Verviers, ' ns a captain’s widow, who eked out her small mumc by keeping boarders in that town. She hi been so well patronized by her countrymen sad women, that with the attractions of a pret ty daughter, a good table, and pleasant society, ;he had been able to raise her establishment to one of first rate elegance, and her parties were attended by alt respectable residents as well as birds of passage from England. At the period we allude to, it was not the bight of tlie season, and though Mrs. Free ave s house was nearly full, one or two of the inmates had announced their intention of tak ing their departure in the following week, when a rich lodger, alluded to above, bad driven up t. tie dour ami requested accommodation. Like i prudent w'man, while welcoming the at ran t-iyith courtesy, Airs. Freelove delicately hint ■a tail she always required a reference, how mr superfluous it evidently was in'the present -''■'■■'a as she added, blandly, to qualify wbat erer might appear unpalateable in the remark. "Faith 1 I quite forgot that!” cried he, with sfnoklaugh; “of course you do, and indeed '■ait to require a reference, when so' many ‘imps arc about. I heard what a nice estab • •-taent yours was, so I drove hither instead of f.-iag up at tlie hotel; but of course I can ex r-i oo exception in niy favor.” . i L ~o disappointed at his having no cre ‘■-'■Ms to offer, Airs. Freelove could hardly ■ f the idea of letting so desirable looking a ■tp't slip thrpuph her fingers. She therfore ‘ by 'observing that it would make no -Mtence to her to receive him even without a '-tjsnce, as nature stamps the impress of a i-M enian sojinmistakeably on some persons, •tah | S - 15 ® 301^15 t^lc host °f PMsports,—only ■. ad, just at present, no room fit to be offered ' ; '“■though perhaps in a day or two, thero znght be a ucancv. are an obliging creature,” said the a . r ’. l’fl write off to my banker and nia i‘ U ° r - t0 A ou ' sror fl that X have not f'ii t ' >e shores of either the Eastern ‘ijl ■ tis | ern Baihvay ” a:icJ] r ! , lr ' ‘ nterru pted Mrs. Freelove, depre- W; a P Q fogy, my dear madam," said he, s^ 10u think less well of you, if «ttvl T" 5 " ere hke an omnibus, into which • : cou hi step unquestioned. I’ll go to a. ,° r a or two, till you receive the let m you’ll oblige me by taking in ii/.. Ki ’. t only want my carpet-bag for so £ ll period, r ee!ove joyfully acceded, aiijf e “5; ’ Rtl 'd he, “my name is Gayly, E;, ...g'..,' CR| t should call and inquire for Orl, he kind enough to keep his card mentioned to several per- ! ‘’Wa/ 6 ir^ V ' n ° England, that I intended to h oss 'hle, in Mrs, Freelove’s te •hrrar'tV* ■ I s^ment ’ f° r you’re mentioned in Tfc / f( Wo. I think?” O! s higgage was now brought in took bis leave. ‘Muni ™ * IC een S one half an hour, when '• Mrs p* C<l | tne to inquire for Sir John. Gay t°2-room , ree Qve eame in a flutter to the sib- Or; a ■? answer him in person. There had ■‘■-arrod,.; Cman of that name asking for ao- I:: 'Varr. , . le told him, hut she was 4, 'flmi’s * hat le tore an y title. tl 0,16 of ®y friend’s eccentricities,” ;Oj value!) ! ’. Cllt * en,iln ; “he is so fond of being -til ef. ™f himself, I expect some day (*» hEono" > '“ se lf as plain Mr. Smith, for c? i, i> °uld suspect how immensely rich g av e his own card, on W,” nhed, “The Hon. Agustua Light- THE AGITATOR Befcottl? to tfce Sftension o t tfct arta o{ iFmfcom atiß t&e Sgceaft of ©caltDs Reform* WHILE. THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN’’ SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. VOL. V. Mrs. Freelove was fit to bite her Ups with relation at having shown the slightest degree of mistrust to a wealthy baronet, who would give such eclat to her establishment, and she was so afraid he might send to fetch away his luggage, and never return, that on the Hon. •Mr. Li ghthead's inquiry at what hour Gayly would be in, she confided to him the grievous blunder she had committed. “Capital 1” cried the Hon. Agustua Lighthead, laughing immoderately. Mrs. Freelove was in agonies. “If I could have imagined," began she, “duly I didn’t know there was a baronet of that name.” "Not know of Gay f Why, my dear madam, that is to argue yourself unknown,” cried the man of fashion. “It’s the Gayly who’s entitled to a peerage hitherto supposed to be extinct; the case is now before the House of Lords; he came here for a little peace and quiet from his lawyers, only don’t say I told you.” In a fever of anxiety, Mrs, Freelove now en treated her honorable acquaintance if he met Sir John-in the town, to toil him that she had caused a couple of rooms to be vacated to ac commodate him, and to entreat him to retard that same day, instead of going to a hotel, which Augustus laughingly promised to effect, if possible. Scarcely was he gone, when Mrs. Freelove hastened to have an interview with an old gen tleman who tenanted the pleasantest rooms in the bouse, and putting on the most insinuating smile, expressed the hope that, as he had an nounced his intention of going to Paris the week following, he would have no objection to be re moved to another part of the establishment that she might not lose an eligible lodger who had j'ust applied. “Indeed, I have a great objection ma’am,” grumbled the old gentleman, “for 1 hate being put out of my way.” “But, my dear si/ you wouldn’t wish me to lose such a lodger as Sir John Gayly," persist ed the lady, “only think of the good it will do my house. Now, do oblige me, and you shall have my own sitting-room, and I will make you so comfortable.” Tbe old gentleman did not. however, at all relish the idea of being “turned out, for he didn’t know who,” as he plainly told Mrs. Free love, especially, after being so long in her bouse. “So long, that we consider you quite in the light of a friend, my good sir,” observed Mrs. Freelove, “besides, we all know how obliging you are.” “I tell you I’m not obliging,” said the testy lodger, “especially towards those I don’t know and never heard of.” “But everybody has heard of Sir John Gay lay,” said the lady, profiting by her newly ac quired knowledge, “he’s a baronet who ” “Tush! what do I care for all the baronets in the world, even supposing he really was one ?” ‘‘Oh, my dear sir! would the Hon. Mr. Au gustus Lighthead answer for him if he were not? Why he has the claim to a peerage.” “Lighthead and perhaps light-fingers too,” muttered the old gentleman, “however that’s your look-out. Well! since you want the rooms. I suppose you must have them—ao bring me my account, and we'll (settle, and I’ll be off.” “Sly dear sir, I hope you’ll not leave us— ■ I'm not sure I’d rather give up the prospect of any advantages.” “Fudge!" interrupted the old gentleman.— “Bring me my bill, and let’s not have another ■word upon the subject.” And in spite of her remonstrances, the old gentleman left her house within an hour. Mrs. Freelovc’s vexation was, however, mol lified by Sir John’s return. The baronet seemed to come as if “towed in”, willy nilly by his hon orable friend; he yileded however to the lady’s entreaties to stay, backed by other polite en treaties that he would oblige her by not writing to England for any further references. Sir John consented and proceeded to install him self at once. After disencumbering himself of his traveling clothes, he dressed himself in ele gant style for dinner; and the servant who took him in some hot water to shave, told his mis tress he had tujver seen such splendid shirts as Sir John had carelessly tossed out of the port manteau be had unlocked, to say nothing of alt the articles in bis dressing case being of silver. The dinner; to which sundry hasty additions bad been made, was quite a grand affair. All the ladies appeared in full dress, and put on their best smiles for the occasion, none being more smiling or more elegantly dressed Ilian the hostess’ daughter, Caroline, who had the envied privilege of sitting by the new guests— The gentlemen were perhaps a trifle stiff at first, but they soon yielded to Sir John’s hearty man ner ; and before dinner was over each had de clared him, in his own mind, to be the best of all good fellows. In order to display her prize to the whole town, Mrs. Preclove sent out a number of cards to apprize her friends that her usual weekly re ception night was to be a full dressed party, and that there would be dancing. Her rooms were thronged with the whole {visiting) popula tion of Vervicrs. Sir John was the admired of all; young ladies voted him handsome; the mammas declared him high-fared; and Mrs. Freelove, fanned the flame of the universal con flagration, by whispering here and there amongst the admiring groups, that he was en ormously rich, though so pleasant and affable to everybody. Sir John did not, however, put himself for ward in any conceited manner, and indeed re mained a part of the evening sitting by Mrs. Freelove, to whom he imparted confidentially that in search of a wife. “For,” observed he. in an undertone, “I wish to get married before certain changes take place in my position, which may render it more diffi cult for me to secure the priceless blessing of being accepted for myself nlone. “And pray, Sir John, do any of onr Belgian ladies here present take your fancy ?” asked the lady in a sprightly tone. Sir' John raised his glass to bis eye, and after surveying a group of fair ones, said, “I think, madam,” said he, “we must confess, after all, that no can vie with English beauty, and that my fair countrywomen, hero as elsewhere have the decided advantage.” WTSLLSBOUO., TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING, MARCH 3, 1859. Mrs. Freelove looked pleased, for she thought the compliment was pointed at her daughter, who sat foremost amongst the grtup of ladies on whom Sir John’s glance especially fell, but declared it did not become her to decide on so delicate a question. “I dare say you’ll think me an odd fellow,” resumed Sir John, “but I wish you’d point out to me which are the richest girls in the room. Do you know why ?’’ “Natural enough, Sir John," began the lady but with loss alacrity. “Ha! ha 1 ha 1” interrupted he; “not so natural perhaps to others as it seems to me for X wish to avoid them.” How charmingly disinterested!—thought Mrs. Freelove, who now began to hope that Caroline’s beauty had struck him. Presently, Mr- Van Huyssen, one of Mrs, Freelove’s old friends, came to pay his respect to the mistress of the house, and Sir John hav ing moved away, he inquired who was this new lodger of hers. Mrs. Freelove entered into a Jong description of his numerous qualities. “Ay, ay,” said the more positive man of busi ness, “but has he paid you in advance?” Mrs. Freelove was indignant at so mean an insinuation. It was not as if he had been nn adventurer, a mere Mr. Jenkins or a Mr. Thompson—a baronet was known to the world at large, “But how do yon know he is the Baronet he pretends to be?!’ asked the skeptical Mr, Van Huyssen. ' “As if it were possible to be mistaken in such matters !” exclaimed Mrs. Freelove, turning away impatiently. “Hemreplied Van Buysaen, moving in the direction of the admired stranger, -with whom he presently entered into conversation. After discussing a number of indifferent top ics, Sir John asked his acquaintance whether he could direct him to any banker who would discount some bills he had brought with him. Van Huyssen replied that he was himself a ban ker, and would accommodate him, if, he boubt ed not, the bills were drawn on satisfactory parties. Sir John said be should certainly call upon him, only he observed that he was the bearer of bills to an enomons amount. "Even if they amounted to three hundred thousand francs it would make no difference to me,” replied the banker. When they parted that night, Sir John shook Van lluyssen’s hand with the cordiality of an old acquaintance, telling him he would not fail to wait upon him next day. “I’m glad you’ve got over prejudices against ray countryman,” said Mrs. F., in it slightly comical tone, as she bid the banker good night. As to Caroline, she wouldn’t even come for ward to give Van Huyssen her hand. The next day, on reaching the banker’s Sir John was shown into his sanctuary, in which ’ stood the iron chest. After a slight bow, Van- Iluyssen took the bills the stranger handed him, and after examining them one by one, glided towards the door, which he bolted, and having consigned the hills to his pocket, suddenly drew forth a pistol, which he pointed at his visitor’s head, saying, "Sir John, you are a villain 1 I was apprized of your arrival here. You are the cashier of the firm of W & Co., of London, whose correspondent I happen to be. These bills amount to three hundred thousand francs, which X shall not return you, and what is mere, X shall blow your brains out if yon at tempt to snatch them back ‘lOh dear! Oh dear!” exclaimed Sir John in very gentlemanly, surprise, but without ma king any attempt at resistance. After enjoyinghis triumph with inward satis faction, the banker resumed in the authoritative tone of a judge, “The flrni of W & Co., has been more merciful to yon than yon de serve. They might have set the police after you, and had you brought hack to London and placed in the felon's dock. They preferred trusting to ray address. lat once recognized you by the description given of your person, even under the false name you had so unblush ingly appropriated—and you fell into the snare in spite of all your cunning.” The stranger made a half bow, as if submit ting to bis fate. “By a degree of generosity,” resumed the banker, “Which I am not called upon to quali fy, Messre. W & Co., are pleased to’ rest satisfied with the recovery of their property, and decline bringing the matter into a court of justice. It seems you are the father of three children 1” “Five," murmured the contrite ex-baronet. - “Well, whatever the number may be, these gentlemen have kindly taken pity on your in nocent children, and have empowered me to hand you over sixty thousand francs, which I herewith give you in bank notes. Try and prove yourself worthy of their noble conduct, and become an honest man. Go!” So saving, the banker gave him the notes, which the ex-baronet received with a respectful bow, and the bolt being now withdrawn, he left the house, and set off by the first train for Paris. The banker then sat down to pen the following epistle to Messrs. W & Co.- “Gentleman; —ln consequence of your favor of the —instant, I watched for the arrival of your fugitive cashier. I had the good luck to meet him at a party, where I pretended to be willing to discount the bills be said he had brought with hitn. According to your instructions, I obtained possession of them; and after a suita ble admonition, which I hope will strike re morse into his soul, I handed over to this crim inal father of a family, the sum of sixty thous and francs, for which I debit you. 1 herewith enclose the bills in question. Allow me to add, that your excessive indulgence is a dangerous system, and that rewarding thieves is pushing generosity beyond due limits. However I am aware that English generosity is proverbial, and you are rich enough to let yourselves be robbed without perceiving it. The banker hngged himself with the satis faction of a man who feels he has done the right thing in the right way, and', having des patched his letter dropped in at Mrs. Freelove's in the evening. “Did the —baronet come in to dinner “I remain Ac., “11. Yak Hltssen.” to-day ?”aaked he in a bantering tone, of that lady, in presence of other inmates of the house. “No.” replied Mrs. Freelove, in much aston ishment, “and pray tell us if you know where Sir John is, for we waited a full hour beyond our usual time before we sat down to table.” “Sir John, alias Jones,” said the banker, laughing, “is on his road to the deuce, for what I care.” And he then related all that had taken place, amid the ejaculations of surprise from all pres ent, except one or two who took care to observe that they suspected something was wrong about the baronet from the first; but to the annoy ance of the credulous Mrs. Freelove, who had quarreled with one of her heat lodgers for his sake, to say nothing of the party given on his account, and the increase of expense to render the dinner worthy of so distinguished a guest. Her only consolation was that ho must have left in his trunks more value than would pay for his hoard and lodging; but even this hope turned out to be illusory, as the trunks proved to be filled with sand, while the portmanteau, witlrthc elegant shirts and dressing case, had been secretly carried out of the house.' So the whole town laughed at Mrs. Freelove, and extolled the banker os a clever man. But in a few days she had the comfort of being able to torn the tobies on him. The London firm wrote to him as follows; “Kespecteo Sjr —You have been the victim of a shameless swindler. We have not been robbed of a single farthing. Our much valued cashier has been with ue for the last 30 years, and is still a bachelor. He is at bis desk as usual, while we pen this. We gave you no in structions whatsoever. The bills are forgeries. As to the sixty thousand francs which you paid away somewhat incautiously, we must beg to decline being your debtor for the same. J We remain &0., R. W. & Co., In the first feeling of stupefaction, the banker thought the firm of W. & Go., had formed a plot to defraud him ; hut he finished by discov ering he had been himself the dupe of a couple of expert swindlers. The false cashier bad written the letter describing himself, and in vented the gift of the sixty thousand, francs as a safer mode of obtaining money than tunning the chance of discounting the Bills. The lion. Augustus Lighthead played the minor part of a decoy duck. Ever after that, if Van Huys sen attempted to joke Mrs. Freclove about the baronet, she would reply that she had now grown more cautions whom she admitted, al though her experience bod not cost her quite so much as sixty thousand francs! COMMUNICATIONS. For tfc® Agitator. Leaves by the Wayside. “JPeir knoir of life’s lingetiags.” Walk up to the tripod Horace Grcely! Hand over your poetry which was written for your Sajly Anns and Katy-Dids, in those days when your mother kissed your lips and affectionately stroked your hair as slie cautioned you against blacking your nose and fingers “with the ink. Hand over your poetry ! Not to fat old crit ics who have just parted company with beef steaks and hot coffee, but to the Quixotic Rescu er of neglected poems, which like stray waifs have floated about the world unnoticed ; which have lain dormant in the pockets of some Sally Ann, who perchance has remained faithful to the memory of those “callow days” when you were wont to walk into her father's kitchen on Sunday nights, looking as,if you “had stolen a sheep," instead of a lamb's having stolen you. Walk up ! I say, and lie. down with that Mil lenium gathering of human intellects, which poke their horns out ofthat Star of Bethlehem, which has so suddenly cast its rays upon onr benighted earth. All hail, thou Jjtdyer! Thy “Bloody Daggers” and “Fearful Leaps” have caused heavy thunderings among the mines of man’s intellect. Among the inhabitants of Callowville, the last trembling among the dry hones of the soul unearthed a poem. It positively seems to roe as if it belonged to the Sally Anns and Katy Dids; at least it bears the impress of “ancient Time,” and seems to he the outpouring of some genius in his “callow days," when his chicken flights seemed hard to achieve. Heaven knows that I do not wish to deprive tho world of a production, which perchance has been knocked out of “good society” by Dana’s Household Book of Poetry. Therefore I will send the poem “en route" to join the newly resurrected gems of poesy which are so soon to take their place before the public. So here it goes: In some lonely hoar On some dreary day, Beneath some shady bower “When I am far away; I hopoyou’ll chink of those \Vith whom you used to be; And if you think of nay r Bo sure and think of me. e e e a e e is Whoa Friendship once la rooted fast, , It is a plant No storm can (smash?) blast. As TTgi.t Squint. —A butcher, who was af flicted with that obliquity of vision known as strabismus, was about slaughtering a bullock, and employed a little negro boy to stand by the ball’s neck, grasp his horns and hold his head steady, so that he(the butcher) would have a certainty of knocking him down. As the butcher poised his axe in the air, he seemed to ho looking directly at the negro instead of the bullock. “Look here, look here, hosay,” ex claimed the darkey, with a great deal of ner vous trepidation, “is you gwine to strike whar you is lookin ?” Of course I am, you black scoundrel,” was the reply. “Den you get some body else to hold de bullock," ejaculated the negro; “you isn’t gwino ter knock dis child’s brains out!” Porter’s Spirit of the Times has an account of a dreadful old fellow, who “would rather tell aHe on sis months’ credit, than tell the truth for cash!” To keep your hair from coming out never let your wife catch you hissing the chamber maid. Correspondence of the National Anti-Slavery Standard. . Alberti the Kidnapper. Philadelphia, Feb. 7tb, 1859. There is a man living in this city -whose name has been associated -with almost every remarka ble slave case that has occurred in Philadelphia for the last forty years. I allude to George F. J Alberti; a personage well known by repute all through this region, and not without notoriety in places distant. Though still living, his name is historical, and in annals yet to he written is destined to occupy a conspicuous place. It may not be used to designate the profession he adorns, but, like that of the famous John Ketch; it is too closely connected with his country's jurisprudence to make it possible for the histo rian to ignore it. , Familiar, however, as is his cognomen to most Philadelphians, there are comparatively few of the present day who have seen the wan himself. Ilis functions are not of a nature to bring him much into the light, and, being a roan of modest discretion, he naturally seeks retirement.' In; former days, when slave-catching was a less unpopular sport, he made himself visible every/ now and then about the purlieus of the Court-, house; hut now that times are changed and, his occupation is gone, the places that onde ! knew him know him no more. He has not been noticed near the temple of uncertain Juki tioe more than once in the last six years, arid he would not have made his oppearance then if he hadn’t been sent for. Nevertheless, though for the most part invisible, he is not impalpable! He is neither a myth nor a thing of the past;’ but an actual, living man; hoary, hale arid hearty ; ready to “catch a nigger” to-morrow if a chance should be offered him. That such is the fact I can state on the evidence of my own senses, having seen him and heard him sri express himself within the last forty-eight boats. I had long been wanting an opportunity pf this kind. I had heard much of the man, blit had never seen him but once, and then bad no chance, as I had no desire, to converse wilt him. It was at the trial of Adam Gibson, the person who, on false testimony and in ttfe face of evidence, was given up by Ingram, to Al berti, his captor, to bo carried to Maryland as a slave. Your readers will remember the cir cumstance. It was the first case tried before Commissioner Ingram under tbe new Fugitive Slave law. The room was crowded.- It Was immediately over the' Hall of Independence, and almost directly under the old LibeHy Bell. The people who heard the testimony stobd aghast at tbe decision. While their blood was boiling, a man. who had before been to mrist unnoticed, stepped forth, and, taking something from his pocket, which proved to bo pinions, proceeded coolly to fasten them on the wrisfcs of his victim. That man was George F. Al berti, next to the Commissioner—whose tesitu dinal face, once seen, could never be forgotten —the most remarkable looking man in the as sembly. His olive-hued countenance was placid and composed. Ills gray locks, and jet-bbick suit and white neckcloth, gave him a venerable and even clerical appearance. Indeed,! he looked altogether more like a Doctor of Divinity than a professional slave-catcher. Nearly ejrer since, 1 have had a curiosity, which has lately ripened into a purpose to see the man and hphr what he had to say for himself. This purpose I carried, day before yesterday, into execution. What transpired at our interview 1 will Here relate, that your readers may share with me in whatever instruction may be derivable from -it. Alberti’s residence, which I found with siiibe difficulty, his name not being in the Directory, is in a densely populated and by no means’, in viting part of the city, near its southern sub urbs. It is a small tenement neat in its exter nal appearance, and still more tidy, as it proved, within. The door was opened to my knocli-by a well dressed, genteel-looking female, of appa rently about 40 years of age. To my question as to whether Mr. Alberti was in, she was abbot returning a negative answer, when the gentle- man himself made his appearance at tho door behind me. He saluted me courteously, handed me a chair, insisted on taking my hat, and ’did. it all with tho grace of a man with whom |po liteness is a habit. I said: || “I fear that, when you hear my errand,! vou will think me impertinent.; I have come here out of curiosity. I have heard so much about you that I have felt a desire to see you. l?am curious to know how how justify to your self the course you pursue. I am an iibo litioniat. I think you are entirely in 1 1 the wrong— i' “I understand you, sir. lam pleased to see you. It is no intrusion whatever, sir. Doiyou believe the Bible ?” • j “I do.” |{ “Well, then, read that book, and youbwill see how I justify myself. I believe tbatjsla very is right according to the laws of Oodjjand man. -I believe it-is right for me to help a slaveholder catch his lawful property. In, so doing, I believe that I am doing my duty to ray God and to my country. If I didn’t think so, I would never catch another. My doctrih'e is, ‘Render un to Csesar the things that are Cmsar’s, and unto God the things that are and that’s the doctrine of the Bible.” | j “That’s my doctrine, too ; hut there isinolh ing in it to justify slavery, or to excuse you in restoring an escaped slave to his master.; { liv ery man has an inalienable right to his liberty. You have that right; the black man has that Agnes. right: and you have no more right to make a slave of him than I have to make a slave of you.” ■ [• "Yes, I have. Read the Bible, and you will see that the children of Ham were to be slaves. Slavery has existed from the beginning;! and always will exist." ■ i j “Murder has existed from the beginning, and so have lying and stealing; but does that make them right ?" j \ “No, for God has condemned them.! i But where in the Bible doss God condemn slavery? No, sir, slavery is according to the law of; God. The slaveholder has as good a right to lils nig gers ns he has to his horses; and if they run away, os a good citizen X have a right tbcatoh them.” j, But, Mr. Alberti, as you believe so literally in the Bible, bow do you get over the command, “Thou shall not deliver unto his masUr the Bonaut thqt has escaped from —” j| Rates of Advertising. Advertisements will bo charged $1 per square of 11 lines, one or three insertions, and 26 cent* for every suhseque&t insertion. Advertisements of less than H Kses considered as a square. Thosubjoincd rates will Bo charged for Quarterly* Half-Yearly and Yearly ad vertisements 3 «05TUS. 8 3TOSTDS, 32 JfOjfTBS. s Square, . . $2,50 st,so *O,OO 1 do. . 4,00 6,00 8.00 i column, . . 8,00 8,00 10,00 i do. - 10,00 15,00 20,00 • Column. - - 18,00 30,00 40,(10 y Advertisements not having the number of insertions desired marked upon them, will be published until or aered oat and charged accordingly. Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Letter-Heads and »U kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, ex* ecuted neatly and promptly. Justices', Constables', and township BLANKS : Notes, Bonds,Deeds, Mort gages, Declarations and other Blanks, constantly on hand, or printed to order. NO, 31. —“His master unto thee. Deuteronomy, xxiii.: 15. I know the test. Many’s the time Tummy Shipley has quoted the text to me. But .it doesn’t apply' to cases of this kind at all. The text refers to subjects of one kingdom fly jug from oppression and taking refuge among the subjects of. another kingdom. It has no application to our slaves whatever.” At this point his wife—for such the person who had admitted me proved to he —interposed : ‘‘lf he would take my advice,he would have nothing to do with theca, lie gets nothing but ill will by it aayuow.” “I am glad to hear you say so, Mrs.-Alberti,” I replied. “It is an infamous business, and I am glad you are opposed to it.” “I am not opposed to peopie having their lawful property; but I doht want him to bother himself about the niggers. They are a treacherous race; don’t yow think they are!” “Xo.” ®a'd I; “I certainly do not. I think them a kind-hearted and forgiving people; and the fact that your husband is now alive is proof of it. It is a wonder they haven’t killed hint long ago." “And-so they would if they could," said he. “Look ’ee there,” pointing to a scar on his left hand: “I had a buck shot cut out of that spot. Feel there.” putting his band on his leg near his knee. “There is a buckshot still remain ing ; it is one of sixteen which were lodged in that limb. Look ’ee here,” pointing to a scar on his bald head; “and look ’ee here, and here,” turning his bald crown that I might seo the marks on the different parts of-it. “That’s the kind of good-hearted.people they are.” After talking in this strain for some time, and recounting to me some of the perilous ex ploits in which ho had been engaged, and of which he seemed to be proud, he took down a pamphlet, and, handing it to me, said; “Read "that; it will show you how unjustly I was treated by that malicious wretch. Judge Par sons. He sentenced me to the Penitentiary for ten years, without law or justice. It will tell you all about it. It was written by one of my counsel, Peter A. Browne. And read that also,” handing me a manuscript document bear ing the State sea!. “That’s Governor Bigler’s pardon. Take them both home with-you and read them at your leisure.” To this Mrs. Alberti, who had eyed me with evident suspicion from the beginning, mode some objections. She didn’t see why he should let them go out of his hands. They would be of no use to the gentleman. "Yes, t hey will; they will show him that I was persecuted, not prosecuted. Would you,” turning to me, “separate a child from its moth er?” “No,” said I, emphatically, “I would not.” “No, of course you wouldn’t. But that woman of Mitchell’s that I took insisted on 'taking back her child with her. I knew it was born in a free State, and I didn’t want to let it go with her, but she begged to have it and at any rate, according to the laws of Mary land, the child was as much Mitcbel’s slave as the mother, wasn’t it ?” “Perhaps so; bat not according to the laws under which you and I live. I will read these documents, but I must say, in a)! candor, that I condemned at the trial and condemn still. Governor Bigler’s pardon.” “Then you are not going to have that paper," said Mrs. Alberti, moving with the rapidity of thought towards me and snatching away the pardon. - “I nm not going to trust any one that will talk in that way of Governor - Bigler. He is a gentleman; Governor Sigler is a _gentleman she repeated with' great vehemence. . . “Hetty, don’t get in a passion—Hetty, my dear love, you don’t understand this gentleman. He is honest; he is not a hypocrite. You need not be afraid of his hnrting the papers ; -why should he ?” “I have seen from the beginning,” said I, “that your wife was suspicious of me. If 1 hadn’t been so frank, her fears wouldn’t have been excited. But I have been entirely open with you. I have told you my errand; told you my name, my place of residence, and my sentiments; and having been thus honest with you, your wife distrusts me.” “Don’t you see, Hetty, that the gentleman is no hypocrite, and that you need not be afraid ; give him the paper; do.” She complied; but with ill-concealed reluc tance. “When I said that I condemned Governor Bigler’s act in pardoning you, it wag from no ill-feeling towards you, Nay, strongly as lam opposed to you, and utterly as I abhor your business, I would not hurt a hair of your bead; and I would do anything in my power to pro mote your welfare—” , • “You understand him, Hetty ; it is the prin ciple he is opposed to.” \ “All good people,” I resumed, “condemned, at the time, the pardon of Governor Bigler; they believed that he did it to please the South; that he had promised, if elected, to release you ; and that certain Maryland slaveholders had aided to procure his election with this view. It was well known that they took a lively interest in your welfare.” "Uut they never gave me a dollar. No, sir —not a dollar. Great promises were made, but I never got a dollar. 1 suffered much : X was nearly a year in prison: Host time and money; I travelled backward and forward to Annapolis at my own expense; but I never got a dollar. The clerk of the Maryland Legislature wrote me that if I would get my papers all ready, and would give him half the money, he would get a bill through to compensate me. I showed the letter to Hr. Lehman, my lawyer, and he showed it to I’ctcr A. Browne; and what doc* Mr. Browne do but take a copy of it and send it r to Governor Lowe. I knew, as soon as I heard, that,'that 1 should get nothing. Why? Because 1 was sure be would defeat the whole plan. Sou see these members of the Legisla ture, at least many of them, arc a corrupt set, and 1 suppose-some of them were to get part of the money if the bill should go through. The plan was to give me part of Chaplin's bail money. Chaplin, the Abolitionist, you know; ho that was in prison, i\n.d forfeited his bail, which was ten Or fifteen thousand dollars. ‘ j was to gel pail ui that, bill, owing to iVtcr A.
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