.t0,...-xt• tr. • = sr, • <•• • 12111 W 4 '4 • • • _ - .• • 7 .—_,-- _ 4. 1;11 „ • • •ep t ~ „ di d 1 1 ) 4 —g'•• _ _ _ ____._..__ • _. MILY NEWSPAPERS • FOR FARMER AND MECHANIC. Eicuottb to politico, New, titanium Poctrii, illal)nnics, 'agriculture, t o Eliffusion of Useful 3uforinntion, Omani litelligencr,/ainuseinent, illatucto, VOLUME VII. TIIE LEHIGH REGISTER, ;Is published in the Borough of Allentown. Lehigh County, Pa., every Wednesday, by A. L. RIUMIEE, •At $l5O per annum, payable in advance, and $2 do if not paid until the end of the year. No paper discontinued; until all arrearages are paid except at the option of the proprietor. 10 - Office in Hamilton Street, one door East of the German - Reformed Church, nearly opposite .he ..Friedenshote" Office. poetical 13cpattincnt. Hours of Sadness There's a cool,quiet spot in the valley, llown under the old willow tree, And you know, in the by-gone, sweet Allie, 'Twas . always the dearest to me; Oh ! you know not how oft since we parted, I've turned from the gladsome and free, And longed, ah! so desolate-hearted, 'To sleep %teeth the old willow tree! For oh! there's no sighing or yearning Beneath the green carpeting there, And here we are evermore learning. That life is o'crburthened with care I Oh ! soft in the shade of the willow, When breezes go whispering by, With the cool, quiet earth for a pillow, Away from life's changes I'd lie! There are moments of sadness so dreary, Emotions we eannot control, Wild feelings so restless and weary, That darken the innermost soul, And sometimes I long to be lying Asleep 'neath the old willow -tree, With its drooping fringe mournfully sighing Daylong a low anthem fur ine ! There are moments of wo that betide us, When we live through the anguish of years Rayless hours wherein is denied us The luxury even of tears ! Oh! Father, forgive the wild sighing. I ily fur a refuge to Thee! And wait, at thy will to be lying Asleep 'neath the old willow tree! (From Gleason's Pictorial ) Joy and Sorrow. If there were nought but sunny days, How dull would sun'ihtne soon appear! Do not SOI'S gladdest, softest rays Beam forth while clouds the heavens mar; And kormy.skies, though dark the while, But lend enchantment to his smile? Life cannot be a lasting fete, To joy, and flowers, and pleasure-given ; 0, no! the thristing soul, replete, Soon wearies of its narrow heaven ; Midst changing scenes will seek relief, And oft find luxury in grief. Ye, who o'er passing troubles grieve, Or wrestling, strive with phantom ills; Condemn not late—rather believe That every icy breath that chills The germs of hope and kindly love, Will inmates of your bosom prove. But life bath sterner, deeper woes, Sorrows which none may thritst aside ; For these a balm in Gilead grows, And resignation rolls its tide; And though despair the present shrouds, Hopes shines behind its darkest clouds slliscrltancous 15elcctions. Taking Care of Number Oue. ...Every one for himself.' This was one .of Lawrence Tilghman's favorite modes cf expression. And it will do him no injus tice to say, that he usually acted up to the sentiment in his business transactions and social intercourse; though guardedly, when ever a too manifest exhibition of selfishness %vas likely to effect him in the estimation of Certain parties with whom he wished to stand particularly fair. In all his dealings, this maxim was alone regarded ; and he was never satisfied unless, in bargaining, ha se cured the greater advantage, a thing that pretty generally occurred. There resided in the same town with TilgLunan—a western town—a certain young lady, whose father owned a large amount of property. She was his only child, and would fall heir, at his death, to all his wealth. Of course, this young lady had attractions, that were felt to be of a most weighty char acter by certain young men• in the town, who made themselves as agreeable to her as possible. Among these was Lawrence Tilghman. .Larry,' said a friend to him one day— they had been talking about the young lady —les no use for you to play the agreeable to Helen Walcot. • 'And why not, pray r returned Tilgh man. • 'They say she's engaged.' 'To whom ?' 'To a young man in Columbus:' 'Who says so 1 1 • 'I can't mention my authority; but it's good.' : • A FA Engaged, ha ! Well, I'll break that en gagernent, if there's any virtue in trying.' .You will 1' 'Certainly. Helen will be worth a plume when the old man, her father, dies ; and I've made up my mind to handle. some of his thousands. 'But certainly, Larry, you would not at tempt to interfere with a marriage contract ?' 'I don't believe any contract s,' re plied the young man. 'Anyhow, while a lady is single I regard her as in the market, and to be won by the boldest." 'Still, we should have some respect for . the rights of others.' 'Every one for himself in this world,' re plied. Tilghman. 'That is my motto. If you don't take care of yourself, you'll be shoved to the wall in double quick tirne.— Long ago, I resolved to-put some forty or fifty thousand dollars between, myself and the world by marriage, and you may be sure that I will not let this opportunity slip for any consideration. Helen must be mine.' Additional evidence of the fact that the young lady was under engagement of mar riage soon came to the cars of Tilghman.— a“.l. na., to ot•ecniiery on his part to Helen, who, greatly to his un easiness, did not seem to give him much en couragement, although she always treated him with politeness and attention whenever he called to see her. But it was not true, as Tilghman had heard, that Helen was en gaged to a young man in Columbus ; though it was true that she was in correspondence with a gentleman there named Walker, and that their acquaintance was intimate, and fast approaching a lover-like character. Still she was not indifferent to the former, and, as he showed so strong a preference for her, began, gradually,to feel an awaken ing interest. Tilghman was quick to per ceive this, and it greatly elated him. In the exultation of his feelings, lie said to hint- ISiI ir show this Columbus man that I'm worth a dozen of him. The boldest wins the fair. I wouldn't give much for his en gagement.' Tilghman was a merchant, and visited the east twice every year for the purpose of buying goods.- In August, he crossed the mountains as usual. Some men, when they leave home and go among strangers, leave all the little good breeding they may happen to have had behind them. Such a man was Tilghman. The moment he step ped into a steamboat, stage, or railroad car, the every-one-for-himself principle by which he was governed, manifested itself in all its naked deformity, and it: was at once conclu ded by all with whom he came in contact, that, let him be who he would, he was no gentleman. On going up the river, on the occasion re (erred to, our gentleman went on the free and-easy principle, as was usual with him when in public conveyances ; consulting his own inclinations and tastes alone, and run ning his elbows into any and everybody's ribs that happened to come in his way.— lle was generally first at the table when the bell rang ; and, as he had a good appetite, managed, while there, to secure a full share of the delicacies provided for the company. 'Every one for himself,' was the thought in his mind on these occasions ; and his ac tions fully agreed with his thoughts. On crossing the mountains in stages (this, was before the railroad from Baltimore 1.6 Wheeling was completed) as far as Cum-' Berland, his greedy selfish, and sometimes, downright boorish propensities annoyed his fellow-passengers, and particularly a young' man of quiet, refined, and .gentlemanly de portment, who could not, at times, help, showing the disgust he felt. Because hei paid his half allar for meals at the taverns; on the way, 'Tilghman seemed to feel him-, self licensed to gormandize at a beastly, rate. The moment he sat down to the table, he would seize eagerly upon the most desi rabic dish near him, and appropriate at least a half, if not two thirds, of what it contain ed, regardless utterly of his fellow-passen gers. :Then • he would call for the next most desirable dish, if he could not reach it, and help himself after a like liberal fashion. In eating, he seemed more like a hungry dog, in his eagerness, than a man possess ing a grain of decency. When the time came to part company with him, his fellow travellers rejoiced•ut being rid of one whose= utter selfishness filled them with disgust. In Philadelphia and New York, wherdl Tilghman felt that lie was altogether un.:l known, he indulged his uncivilized propen-f , skies to their full extent. At one of the ho-1 tels, just before leaving New. ork to retur n to Baltimore, and there take the cars for they West again, he met the young man referred' , o as a traveling companion, and remarked the fact that he recognized and frequently ~bserved him. Under this observation, as ' it seemed to have something sinister in it, Tilghman felt, at times , a little uneasy, and at the hotel table, rather curbed his greedi ness when this individtfal was present. Finally. he.left New York in the twelve ; o'clock boat, intending to pass on. to Balti more in the night train from Philadelphia, and experienced a sense of relief in getting rid of the presence of one who appeared to ALLENTOWN, LEHIGH ;;OUNTY, PA., SEPTEMBER 7, 1853. know dim and to have taken a preidice against him. As the boat swept dom the bay, 'l)lghman amused himself first with a cigar . On the forward deck, and then 'nth a promenade on the upper deck. lie hi al ready Secured his dinner ticket. Then the fumes of roast turkey came to his tiger sense; he felt 'sharpset' enough to havede vourel a whole gobler ! This indicatior, of the alproaching• meal caused him to dye downbelow, where the servants were bvy in preparing the table. Here he walbd backOards and forwards for about half in • hourin company with a dozen others, w.o, like himself, meant to take care of numbr one. Then, as the dishes of meat began o comein, he thought it time to secure a god place So, after taking careful observatio., he aftsumed a position, with folded aunt opppite a desirable dish, and awaited th completion of arrangements. At length al wrtheady, and a waiter struck the bell.— Instintly,sTilghman drew forth a chair, urn' hadthe glory of being first at the table.— ; He lad lifted his plate and just cried,ns he\ turnld partly around--- , Here, waiter ! Bring. me pme of that roast turkey. A side bone and, piece of the breast'—when a hand ..,.. 1 1..id nn liis shoulder. and oho °lurk of theboat said, in a voice of authority --.urther down sir. Further down ! We w t these seats for ladies.' 'ilghman hesitated. K luick.! quick !' urged the clerk. There was a rustling behind him of la 1. .s' dresses, and our gentleman felt that he st move. In his eagerness to secure on otter place, he stumbled over a chair and qme near falling prostrate. At length he biauffht up at. the lower end o ,t, f the table.— !Waiter !' he cried, as soon as he found a t'w position— , waiter, I want some Of that fist turkey !' The waiter did not hear, or was too busy vith some one else to obey. IWaiter, [ say ! Hore I This way !' b loudly and earnestly was this uttered, thathe observation of every one at that end of to table was attracted towards the young mat But he thought of nothing but secu rinihis provender.—At length he received hisarkey, when he ordered certain vege tabls, and then began eating 'greedily, whe his eyes were every moment glan cini along the table to see what else there watto tempt his palate. Waiter !' he called, ere the first mouthful weal rltr swallowed. _ . • :he waiter came. Have you any . oyster sauce ?' 'Jo sir.' 'great cooks 1 Turkey without oyster same ! Bring me a slice of ham !' 'Houle of ale, waiter,' soon after issued From his lips. !'he ale was brought, the cork drown, and th 3 bottle set beside Tilghman, who, in his viste, pourethis tumbler two-thirds full ere to contact of air had produced efrerves fence. The consequence was that the li )uor flowed suddenly over the glass, and read its creamy foam far the space of four r five inches around. Several persons sit ing near by had taken more interest in our oung gentleman, who was looking after umber one than in the dinner before them; nd when this little incident occurred, could not suppress a titter. Hearing this, Tilghman became suddenly conscious of the ludicrous figure he made, and glanced quickly from face to face. The first countenance his eyes rested upon was that of the young man who had been his sage companion; near him was a lady who hid thrown back her veil, and whom he itt suntly recognized as Helen Walcot ! She it was who stood behind him when the clerk ejected him from his chair, and she had been both an ere and eye-witness of his say ings and doings since he dropped his pres ent ?lace at the table: So touch had his conduct. elected her with a sense of the ri dicupus, that she could not suppress the smill that curled her lips ; a smile that was felt for Tilghman as the death-blow to all his lopes of winning her for his bride.— Witl: the subsidence of the hopes went his appeite ; and with that ho went also—that is frdn the table, without so much as wai ting br the dessert. •On the forward deck he eonced himself until the boat reached Soutl Amboy, and then he took good care not t push his way into the ladies' car, a speciis of self-denial to wish he was not ac custuied. Si 4 months afterwards—he did not ven ture f call again on Miss Walcot—Tilgh man ted the announcement of the young lady': marriage to a Mr. Walker, and not longgterwards met her in company with her lushand. He proved to be the travel ing cl i rnpanion who had been so disgusted . . boorish conduct when on his last trig the east. 0 young gentleman has behaved him seli Cher better since when from hoine i and e trust that some other young gentle rite') ho are too much in the habit oil .11a kit r are of number one" when they are a strangers, will be warnedk his mor tifi n, and cease to expose themselves to th r icule of well-bred people. lln everything, the ends well defined o secret of durable success. The Student's Ride to Amherst. At Amherst, N. there is a college— perhaps you know there is ; young men go to such places to learn something, which they, however, so rarely succeed in doing, as they do in doing their daddies out of the hard.earned thrift, perhaps. Of these aca demical youths, a great many yarns of fun and fully have been told, and remain to be told. We have seldom heard of a 'better thing' than that related of a young gentle man who, in search of information, not long since, found his way to Amherst; he intend ed to find his way to Amherst College, but a little circumstance occurred which knock ed his project on the head. • Sam Sophomore, having got his traps ready, jumps into the cars to hunt up Am hurst College. After meandering through three long cars, he found every seat full, except one. He viewed that ; it was abut half.full of a dowdy, Irish-looking woman 'dressed up' to the nines : but Sam, having a 'decidedly sheepish ' regard for female strangers, and still a stronger reluctance to sit cheek by jowl with a Milesian cook, washerwoman, or what not, hesitates. How ever, the cars are off; Sam has a decided objection to standing, or walking about upon Jas pins : so, making a virtue of necessity, Sam dumps himself down along side of the veiled Irishwoman, and hopes she is not luund far, arid he would sweat it out. The first station is reached, and nobody Aets out, but several get in : the next station, few get out, and in a jiffy their seats are tOten ; so Sam begins to resign himself to hjs fate, averts his head over the, side of the s‘nt and tries the solace of a doze. Sam had h4rid dozy dreams, in which his traveling fektale companion assumed various uncouth fet l / 2 tures and forms, from a potwalloping, moian-faced kitchen ranger to a she-grizzly. Sat wakes up, rubs his eyes, and believes the,lrishwoman smells of onions and whis key, and thinks, possibly, she may be 'just over,' and have ship-fever or small-pox in her clothes. There is no telling what fancies roamed through the curled and perfumed locks of Sam Sophomore, as he sat wedged in be tween the arm of the plush-covered seat and the arm and wadded dress of his Alilesian minim/pion du voyage, as we say in French. But a change of cars took place in the course of an hour more, and Sam, thinking 'in for a penny, in for n pound' he again goes off into the land of Nod, and finally,after a deal of oflence to the young squirt's dignity, he heroically goes to sleep. Sleep ! aye, snores, and but for the conductor's rushing in for 'tickets, gentlemen 1' Sam would have kept on snoozing and snoring, and forgotten his troubles and imaginary ship-fevers, small !nix and Irish companion. 'Change cars here !' cried the conductor; 'passengers for Amherst, &c., &c., willtake the other branch cars , Glad of it, by thunder !' says Sam,'nev er had such a fix before, and never will again ; or I'm a Dutchman !' and Sam moved his boots for the other cars. Finding the train was not oft for some minutes, Sam runs 'over the way,' to get something stimulating of his traveling diffi culties, and in doing so he meets a friend ; they smile, and Sam spreads upon his morn ing's travel. Never was so 'took down' in my life !' says he. •Why,,what about ?' (path the chum. .Well, tell you. You see I got in the cars at Boston, found all the seats full but one : on that an Irishwoman was squatted— I don't like the Irish, and—' '1 say, Mister !' says a long, .lean, lank, wooden-nutmeg looking customer, interrupt ing the student's narrative, .1 say, why on airth don't you look after your mother, out there ? She's lost her bundle, and—' •My mother, sir ?' interrupted Sam, in arnarc•ment. Why, yes; the old critter is looking for you—she's riled all up, streaked as get out, about some of her lixins left in them other kea rs.' Who told you I had a mother 1' 'All creation, only hear that ! Well, yeou do beat natur, that's a fact : Mister ; but by golly, if yeou're above looking tater yeour old mother, I'll be darned of I ain't the chap that will !' 'Go to the d—l I' roars Sam, as the bell rings ; ho bids good-bye to his friend, and jumps in. What was Sam's horror, when he got in, to find the seats all full, except nn end seat immediately opposite his same Mi lesian female friend. .By &dam and Gommorrah !' cries the victim , if this don't beat speckled-backed Shanghaes, I'm continentally danged!' Well, old lady,' says Sim, feeling spunky after his smile at the junction, here we are again, eh ? The woman, still veiled, nodded a sort of assent. Check by jowl, eh ?' continues Sam. Sam thought he perceived she smiled a sort of bread grin, at the tender allusion ho made to the vernacular of her mother tongue. 'lt's develish cold in these cars, don't you think so, eh ?' says the mock heroical buck, in an en deavor: to have a social chat, just for the fun of the thing, with the Irishwo man. But to this common-place observation the Irishwoman did not respond, but averted her head and looked out at the side-window. The candidate for Amherst honors, finding his efforts to be agreeable, did not take, tried to snooze; up comes his long-legged, friend, giving Sam a familiar pop on the shoulder. Long-sides exclaims : 'Hello, the old lady finally faound yeau eh ?' 'What do you mean sir,' says Sam. , What du I mean ? why, I say yeou're along side of yeour mammy again. Faound yeour stuff, main, did yeou ?' he adds, look ing at the Irishwoman. beggage, sir, was all taken care ot,' the woman responded. • 'Wal,' says Long -sides. 'glad of it ; yeou seemed in a dreadfu l pucker about it, and 1 up and told this feller—son of yeourn, 1 reckon— 'Oh, no !' the woman responded. 'No, you are a fool !' exclaims the outra ged squirt. 'Fool ? look a-here, darn yeour picture says Long-sides, 'el 'twasent in the kears, I'd give yeou abaout the golf darndest ca. wallopin' yeou ever had since yeou put trow sers on, darn ycou.• Sani wilted straight down into his calf skins, for Long-sides looked savage as a meat-axe, and wiry as a cork-screw, and but (or the interposition of the gentlemanly con ductor, perhaps Sam would have got his hat caved in, anyhow. But at last the cars were to be left, and the stage finished the journey to Amherst, It waa near dark, and the humbugged• or self-bored student was almost ready to cry Eureka ! at the prospect of losing tho pres ence of the poor, inoffensive Irishwoman.— He had hardly seated himself in the stage, when in bundles the same old woman. 'Good Lord !' cries he, 'what ! going to follow me over all creation ? I'm a boned turkey, a goner, murder!' groans Sam to himself ; then putting out his head, says he —'Driver; look here—can't I ride on the seat with you ?' 'May if you like, but it's going to rain— cold as blazes out here,' says coachee. , Well, never mind, I'll sweat it out ; soon be in Amherst, won't you V Sam remarks. 'l'ooty soon, 1 guess; was the reponse. Sam dozes until the coach reaches Am herst, and drives up alongside of the hotel. Sam ups and jumps out ; the first man he meets upon the piazza is his Professor, Stowe. 'Ah, Mr Sophomore,' cries the Professor grasping the student's' hand, 'glad to see you sir. .Ilow do you, sir 1' says Sam ; am deu ced glad, sir, to see you. Had a very disa greeable ride up here.' .Had you, indeed ? Any passengers in the coach from the railroad, Mr. Sophomore? I expected my wife up to•night.' 'Did you, sir ?' Well, nobody came in the coach but myself and an old Irishwoman— she's haunted me ever since I set out.' 'lndeed ! Ha, ha !' says the Professor, ad vancing towards the side of the coach—one glance, and he rushes forward, and cries. 'My dear, you have arrived.' 'Do—do—d-do you know that—that wo man' grasps Sum. 'My wife, sir. Mrs. Stowe, Mr. Sopho more.' says the Professor. Sam gave one look, as the world-renown ed authoress raised her veil ; that was enough ; he Inattoned his coat, laid legs to ground, and yelled as he vamosed— 'Put me into your next edition of Un cle Tom's Cabin, madam ! Illy namc . B Haines!.' Higgins, the Ranger. • Toni Higgins, as he is usually called, is a native of Kentucky, and is one of the beet examples extant of the genuine backwoods man. During the last war, at the ago of nineteen, he enlisted in the Rangers, a corps of mounted men, raised expressly for the protection of the western frontiers. On I the 13th of August, 1814, he was one of a party of twelve men, under the command of Lieutenant Journey, who were posted at Hill's station, a smail stockade, about eight miles south of the present village of Green ville, and something more than twenty miles from Vandalia. These towns were not then in existence, and the surrounding country was one vast wilderness. During the day last mentioned, 'lndian signs' were seen about half a mile from the station, and at night the savages were discovered prowling near the fort, but no alarm was given. On the following morning early, Mr. Journey moved out with his party in .pursuit of the Indians. Passing round the fence of acorn field, adjoining the fort, they etruz.k across the prairie, and had not proceeded more than a quarter of a mile when, in crossing a small ridge which was covered with a hazle thicket, and in full view of the station, they fell into an ambuscade of the Indians. who rose suddenly round them, to the num ber of seventy or eighty, and fired. Pour of the party were killed, among whom was Lieutenant Journey ; one other fell, badly wounded, and the rest fled, except Higgins. It was an uncommonly sultry morning ; the day was just dawning; a heavy . dow had fallen the preceding night r the air was NUMBER 49. still and humid, and the smoke from the guns hung in a heavy cloud over the spot. Under the cover of this cloud, Higgins's surviving companions had escaped, suppos ing that all that were left were dead, or that at all events it would be rashness to attempt to rescue them front so overwhelming a force. Iliogin's horse had been shot through the neck, and fell to his knees and rose again several, times. Believing the animal to he mortally wounded he dismounted, but finding that the wound had not greatly dis abled him, he continued to hold the bridle; for, as he now felt confident of being able to make good his retreat, he determined to firo oil his gun before he retired. He looked round for a tree. There was but one, a small elm, and he made for this, intending to shoot from behind it ; but at this moment the cloud of smoke rose partially from before him, disclosing to his view a number of In dians, none of whom discovered him. One of them stood within a few paces, loading his gun, and at him Higgins took a deliber ate aim And fired, and the Indian fell. Mr. Higgins, still concealed by the smoke, re loaded his gun, mounted and turned to fly. when a low voice near him hailed him with, "rein, you wont leave ine V On looking round, he discovered the speaker to be one of his companions, named Burgess, who was lying wounded on the ground, and he replied instantly. not leave you , come along, and I'll take care of you.' can't come,' replied Burgess, 'my kg is smashed all to pieces.' Higgins sprung from his saddle, and pick ing up his comrade, whose ankle bone was broken, in his arms, he proceeded to lift him on his horse, telling him to fly, and that he would make his own way on foot, but the hnrse taking fright at this instant, darted off, leaving Higgins, with his wound ed friend, on foot. Still the cool bravery of the former was sufficient for et'ery emer gency, and setting Burgess down gently, he told him : ""Now my good fellow, you must hop off on your three legs, while I stay between you and the Indians, and keep them off;" instructing him, at the same time, to get into the highest grass, and crawl as close to the ground as possible. Burgess followed his advice, and escaped unnoticed. History does not relate a more disinterested act of heroism than this of Higgins, who, having in his hands the certain means of escape front such imminent peril, volunta rily gave them up, by offering his horse to a wounded comrade ; and who, when that generous intention was defeated, and his own retreat was still practicable, remained, at the hazard of his life, to protect his crip pled friend. The cloud of smoke, which had partially opened before him, as he faced the enemy, still lay thick behind him, and as he plung ed through this, ho left it, together with the ridge and the hazle thicket, between him and the main body of the Indians, and was retiring unobserved by them. Under these circumstances, it is probable, that if he had retreated in a direct line toward the station, he might easily have eflected his escape ; but Burgess was slowly crawling away in that direction, and the gallant Higgins, who coolly surveyed the whole ground, foresaw that if ho pursued the same track, and should be discovered, his friend would be endangereil. Ile therefore took the heroic resulution of diverging from the true course so far, as that any.of the enemy who should follow hint, would not fall in with Burgess. With thi,: intention, he moved stealthily along through the smoke and bushes, in tending when, he emergA, to retreat at full speed. But as he left the thicket he beheld a large Indian near him, and two others on the other side, in tho direction of the fort. Tote coolly surveyed his foes, and began to chalk out his track ; for, al.; though in the confidence of his own activi. ty and courage, hu felt undismayed et such odds, yet he (Mind it necessary to act the general. Having an enemy on each flank, he determined to separate thorn, and fight them singly. Making for a ravine, which was not far ofl, he bounded away ; but soon * found that one of his limbs failed him, hav ing received a ball in the first fire which, till now, he had scarcely noticed. The lar gest Indian was tel him closely.— . Higgins several times turned round to fire, but the Indian would halt, and dance about to prevent him front taking aim; and Tom knew that he could not atiurd to fire at random. The other two were now clos ing on him, and Ito found that unless ho could dispose of the first on-, he must bo overpowered. He therefore halted, resolv ed to ,receive a fire ; and the Indian at a few paces distant, raised his rifle. Hig gins watched his adversary's eye. and just as he thcught his finger pressed the trig ger, 'suddenly throw his side to him. It is probable that this motion saved his life, for the ball entered his thigh which would have pierced his body. Tom fell, but rose again and ran, and the largest Indian, cer tain of his prey, loaded again, and then with the two others pursued. They soon came near. Higgins had again fallen, and as he rose, they all three fired, and he received all their balls. He now fell and rose several times, and the Tmli tns throwing
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