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FOR FARMER AND MECHANIC,
____
-WSPAPER, _ _ _ ____ __
•
Mcoottb to politico, News, liitrrature, "Petri), r illecliaitics, '2griculture, the rliffuoion of 'Useful 3nformatioll, Efleiteral Ilittclligitre, 'Amusement, filaritets, Str.
VOLUME VIII.
THE LEHIGH REGISTER
publiehed in the Borough of Allentown, Lehigh
County, Pa., every 1.1 ethically, by
A. L. 1111111E,-
At $l5O per annum, payable in advance, and
1,1 00 if not paid until the — end of the year. No
paper discontinued, until all arrearages are paid
except at' the option of the proprietor.
Or Office in Hamilton Street, one door East of
the German Reformed Church, nearly opposite
the ..Friedensbote" Office.
poctical Dcpartinctit.
The Deaolate Cottage
Gay wnodbines round the casement twine,
With star like jessamine ;
And lovely as'nn infant's face, '
The rose looks laughing in;
Titi• sunbeams glance between the leaves,
Like fond and silent smiles,
To greet the fruit that hangs
Beneath the sculptured tiles,
A r s silently as in a dream'
The sunny moments passe—
YOu e'en might hear the lily's leaf
Drop softly on the grass.
deep unbroken stillness reigns,
Sale when a flower is stirt'd
At intervals by drowsy bee;
Or when a summer bird
Floats .onward, gaily as a cloud, '.
And murmurs lorth its glee •
To earth and sky in gentle streams
Of dew•like melody.
The vine's young tendrills hang unmoved—
. So low the wind's rich breath—
But what is life's most silent calm
Beside the calm of death
What if the rose still nourish there,
The grape's bright clusters shine, .
The jasmin round the Window . frtane -
tts sceMed - blossoms :twine Si
The eyes'lhat watch'd their lovliness
May gaze on them no more,
The hand that iratu'd their budding leaves,
Alas ! its task is o'er!
What though full sweetly on the ear
May fall the woodbird's strain,
The wild, ithpassion'd voice of grief
Hath can't! on her in vain!
She lies upon her stately bed,
Whose curtains' crimson fold
Still flings a bloom upon her face,
tic) still, so fair, so cold ;
And yet such bloom is not like life,
..• A very babe might know,
The peaceful smile upon her lip
From earth's joy could not !tow.
''he brow. that gleams so softly out
Beneath the braided hair,
- What but the angel's parting.look
-• Had left.such calmness there
Itlisccllancons acicctiono.
Tag 'UNYIELDING WIFE;
OR, THE NIFTECTS OF ILI:TEMPER.
before proceeding to the subject matter of
this paper, al low , me, my yoitng friends, to
exhortyqu to pause long and strive earnest
self-cdlut re and' self control; before fak
ing a step 'which involves'youi all of earth
ly happiness, as well as that' of the individ;
uel whom, before Heaven, you.promised to'
honor, love, and cherish, durina your sojourn
;n q state where mutual concessions are
constantly demanded. My female friends,
tho Ugh the chosen companion 'of your life
May riot be all you had,'in the ardor of your
atlection, painted him, he is still the man
whom you, are bound to "love, honor and
ob'e'y;' and to your keeping, in a great deL
gree, is committed his reputation, his useful
ness in 'life, his social tastes and fireside en
joyinents:L Mutual improvement is undoubt
edly one of the ends of the institution of mar
riage ; btit Aly attempt at correction or' re-
proof should be mingled with•'kindness of
wanner i if the contrary coutte IS adopted,
.the ,destrekegret is worse then lost, and fre
que4ly the seeds of good itlVelitfy soitenlia
Lbe heart, are. by
' harshness &Kt se4erity,
stilled Inthe germ, and the noble , feelings
had begun to expand' are blasted by
the heat of an ungovernahle temper.
Tears ago, when in the 'freshness and
puoyanpy of girlhood, I was about to become
the bride of him who had ever striven' to
InAke . nie baPPY. I received a letter from tity
Anode is eldest sister, earnestly urging me
pp spend a few days with her, ns she wish
pd, pprticularly to see me. Accordingly, 1
Went, and was cordially received by Aunt
elara and the'family of her Son, with whom
eihtt' resided, One day, during my visit,
Aunt Clara told me she had heard of my in
tended marriage, and, feeling a deep, inter
est in ray welfare, she had determined ,to
give me.a•history of her married li fe,.believ
mg that it might convey a useful lesson.—
Whether she thought she discovered the
.same traits in my character that caused the
:shipwreck of her happiness, I cannot say :
but let that pass. She 'said on account -of
the sad memories and unhappy feelings it
would necessarily awaken, she had reduced
A FAMILY NE
the narrative to writ ing, which I might per
use at leisure.
At an euily day I availed myself of her
kindness—her manuscript is here copied. '
Being the oldest of six children, my pa
rents had always been accustomed to rely on
me for much assistance, which had I been
the only child, they would scarcely have
considered me able to render. My mother's
time was almost wholly occupied with house
hold alliirs, so that at sixteen years of age
the care of two little sisters and three broth
ers devolved on me. Nature had endowed
me with an indomitable will, and a passion
ate love of power, which required a stronger
curb than the occasional reproofs which my
ebullition of temper called forth. Among
my brothers and sisters my word was law,
and when I issued a command, (and that
was.the form in which my issues were ex
ercised,) exacted the strictest obedience. I
do not think the children could have loved
me very much, for my passionate instructions
must have engendered that fear that casts
out love.
At length, a change came aver me, a pas
sion took possession of my heart, which for
a time overpowered all baser passions—need
I say that passion was love ? My whole
heart was devoted to an object worthy of a
better disciplined one than I could bring
As 'if to prove the assertion true that eve
ry person loves his opposite, the tf..j..ct of
my attachment was mild, with a disposition
full of mildness and charity, always choos.
ing to suffer wrong rather than contend with
an antagonist.
Intending to relieve my parents from pro
vidiog some of the necessary articles for
housekeeping, I engaged to take charge of
a district school, which was managed by a
board of trustees, who were authorized to
employ and pay the teacher, being inure or
less controlled by them. Their occasional
interference was to a temperament like mine
exceedingly irritating. One day I returned
from spool in a very angry mood, asserting
that I . would neither submit to the dictates of
the trustees, or any one else, when ray eld
est sister said, with an arch smile.
.Whot will you do when you are mar
ried I You will than have to 'love, honor and
obey."
My temper was not in the least softened
by the question, and [replied very emphat
ically, that when I was married it would be
my husband's duty to make tee happy, awl
if he did not conform to my wishes, I should
endeavor to malm him. Ifoolish wayward
girl that I was, to resolve in my own mind
that I would abide by so absurd a determi
nation. 1 - low little did I reflect how much
influence, pride and obstinacy would exert
in causing me to adhere to this expression of
perverted will.
Joseph and I were at length married. It
seemed to me that I had never been so.hap
py belore; weeks passed as days. Surroun
ded by an atmosphere of love arid kindness,
my Malts were not called out, and Joseph
in his mistaken fondness thought me all
that his warm heart and noble nature could
desire.
Soo,n after the marriage we commenced
housekeeping in a neat pretty house, just
suited to our wants. I was enabled nearly
to furnish it with the avails of my last year'S
teaching, and the kind assistance of mother
and sisters. Neatness and order were large
ly developed in my habits, and for some time
nothing occurred to mar the happiness of our
daily life.
One evening I had to wait longer than
usual for Joseph to come to tea, and suffered
a long suppressed feeling of impatience to
betray itself in the peevish tones in which I.
exclaimed us soon as he entered the dining
room, 'The tea is all cold ; why did you riot
come before ?' .1 could not, my dear, as there
was no one to stay in the Was the mild
I reply which should have put the subject at
!lest, as I knew that Joseph's business must
necessarily occupy his whole time, he being
head-clerk in the establishment •with which
ne was connected, expecting the cot.irn
of
two or three years to be taken into part
ttetsbip, therefore it was necessary for him
to be active and attentive. All.this I knew,
bur, like too many wives, took little interest
in business aflairs, arid would not consider
that he had any claims 'paramount to my
convenience. .
Small matters like these should have been
borne patiently, but in the absence of any
greater trouble I suffered a thousand trifling
things to annoy and irritate'me to that de
gree that I threatened to •turn over a new
leaf," which was but another way of saying,
unless I can have things my own way I
shall give lily husband a lesson. He bore
My reiterated cotnplaints about what appears
to me now to have been stifles light as air
without resentment, offering good reasons
(excuses I called them) for not complying
with my wishes.
One day, after I had reproached him with
thinking more of his business than of his
wife, he rose to go out, but as he did so, he
turned to me with a look that should have
sent repentance to my. heart, and fixing on
me those liquid grey eyes, eXpressiVe more
of sorrow' than of anger, 'Clara,' said be, .if
you find it so troublesome waiting for me,
do not wait any' more, but take your meals
ALLENTOWN, LEHIGH COUNTY, PA., JANUARY 18. 1854.
and clear away the things without regard to
me.' When he had gone, the temper that
should have been cast behind me prompted
'me to take him at his word. Accordingly
when the time came, I prepared the evening
meal and after waiting a few moments I sat
down, ate alone, then cleared away the ta
ble and took up my sewing. In a few mo
ments Joseph came in, and without raising
my eyes from my work, I told him in as un
concerned manner as possible, that he need
not come for his tea, I had cleared' it away.
Withcut saying a word he turned and left
the house.
I know, my friend, that when you read
this you will bitterly reproach me for un,
kindness to one ‘‘ho loved me better than
life ; one, too, for whom at times, I would
have laid down my life, and aught else save
my will. His loss at one time would have
broken my heart, but naturally impulsive,
that intense love that for a time controlled
infirmities of temper, I had suffered them to
gain the ascendency, thus dashing from, our
lips the cup of floppiness. 1 allowed myself
to forget that the same guard over my con.
duct, and the same effort was necessary to
preserve the affections of the husband that
were employed to win and obtain the lover.
Rut to return. That night I sat up late.
but my husband did not come. A.h,thought
I, he thinks to frighten me .into submission
by staying out late, (a thing he had never
done before.) but he will find his mistake.—
Finding that he had taken the night key, I
determined to sit up no longer. I retired,
but could not sleep. The mild beams of the
moon came softly stealing through the win
dow, filling the room with fantastic shapes
of light and shade, bearing to my troubled
mind a self-examination, so long deferred.—
As the night deepened and my husband
Caine not, I wept bitter tears of self accuse
lion, and in . proportion to my fears for his
safety did my repentance. for the past, and
resolve for the future, deepen and expand.
I knew the store had closed some hours,
before, and we had few friends, indeed none
with whom he could he spending the even
ing. Where can he be. was the constantly
recurring question. Just as the dock struck
one, I heard the click of the night key and
his step on the stairs. With my fears, van
ished repentance from my volatile heart, and
by the tune he reached the room I was pre•
pared to Dour a storm of invective on his
head. He paused on the threshold, and as
the moon shone lull in his face, I perceived
that he was pale and agitated, and in the
moonlight presented a ghastliness that
shucked me so much that 1 sprang from the
bed, exclaiming, 'Joseph, Mr. Leland, what
is the matter ?' He stared at me an instant,
and in an excited tone replied : 'Don't be.a
fool, Clara. Go back to bed, and let me
alone.' The, truth (lashed on my mind, and
again I pressed my pillow, where I sought
to fasten the blame on him, rather than take
any share on himself. The next day noth
ing was said of the occurrence of the pre
ceeding day and night. In fact, there were
few words spoken on any subject; I felt in
jtued, and a gloom seemed to. have .settled
on the countenance and manner of my hus
band.
It was not until years after that I knew
what ( may as well mention now. When
Mr.J.eland left the store on the eventful
night,'he paused a moment on the threshold,
uncertain whither to direct his steps, dread
ing after the toilings of the day to encounter
the fretfulness of an arbitrary wife at home...
Home—home no longer to his gentle, and
peace loving spirit. Just then an acqUaiti%
lance passed, and accosting him gaily invi
ted him to go and partake of an oyster sup..
per at a fashionable restaurant. Unhappily
his stomach prompted his mind to accept the
invitation. That night the tempting wine
cup was held to his lips ; a second and a
third followed in rapid succession, and in
that state be sought his chamber as we have
already seen.
Following this, there came a succession
of days and months freighted 'with the deep-
est IPit:6*,) , to both of us. I will draw a veil
over the recollections of this period, only .
mentioning that but a few months had elap
sed before the hollow cheeks and bloodshot
eyes told a tale that none who saw him could
fail to yead. My husband's conduct and ap.
pearance, instead of causing self-reproach
and exciting pity, led me to look upon my.
sell tas one of tbe most injured of Wives. and
my selfish and wicked heart hardened to
wards him till I rarely spoke save in harsh
ness and reproach.
.We had been married about two years. -=
One morning Mr. Leland went to the store
as usual, but soon returned. On
. li:inking at
him, I caught my breath in astonishment.
Alis eyes were wild and gleamed like hot
coals, and he staggered across the rotin, rind
would•have fallen had he not grasped the
chair into which he sank. He sat a moment,
as if collecting his thoughts, then, in a voice
firm and solemn, while 1 almost felt his
burning gaze, he said ; "Clara, this day I
am a ruined man—my employers . have
watched my steps, have expostulated with
me ; finding it to no purpose. this day, on
which I should have been raised to an hom
orable arid profitable position; l am without
money and without friends. Trouble and
disappointment drove me to the wine cup.;
then, to find' oblivion for my sorrows, 1 neg-
lected my business, became involved in debt,
and this is the consequence."
The Young Soldier's Story.
" , Generally speaking," began the youth,
"stories have what is called a moral to them;
and if you don't know what that means, I
shall not:stop to tell you—"
'Yes, yes, we know,' ran in low murmurs
round.
, Well, :nine has no moral, because it
comes too late,' and his voice thrilled as he
spoke ; 'and if it had, its uses would be very
doubtful.'
.It matters very little who or what I nm,'
he continued. have lain in silk and pur
ple and grew up as one born to command.
I went to college ; and very likely you think
I was a wild, herum scarum devil of a fel
low—booting, driving, hunting, •growning
and towning' it —cultivating wine, cards,
and so on, as you may have heard that
young fellows with plenty of money do.—
Well, if you think so, you are mistaken.—
I was a quiet, studious young man. I might
add moral,'—and his sardonic laugh jarred
as before ; 'and it would have been perfect.
ly true. I loved books, study, and peace ;
was a good scholar, studied music and the
arts, fenced like Angelo—there is not a man
in the army, perhaps, that can play at the
small-sword with me—and quiet as an in
fant. I still had a fiery devil in me.
.1 fell in love, ha ! ha! with a little doll of
a girl about my age, that was seventeen, and
for whom I would have taken my heart out
of lily bosom. She was so frail and fairy
like a creature, that 1 could have put her in
my. breast to shelter as one would a little
bird ; and she loved me with such a strength
of faith, that had I been Don Juan himself,
there was such laVish trust in her that she
would have converted me from a debauchee
into a true, honest man.
•She is still now as a frozen rill—sleeping
like the streams in winter—she will never
wake again !' and his head fell on his breast
though his eyes, which were burning with
the pain of his strong agony, were not moist•
ened with a tear. They had dried at the
very fountnina.
'I dare say more than one among you
know what it is to be in love, my lads.—
Here is Charley, fur instance,' and our hero
gave a start ; 'he, 1 imagine can understand
me.
•Yes, yes !' again murmured the soldiers.
.we know it.'
'Yes !' he repeated somewhat scornfully;
'all very well that, but different men have
different ideas of love. Some are sensual
and depraved, and with them love is mere
pollution and misapprehension of the sub
lime passion ;.and I have met with but few
that could understand it as I did, but it was
with me a portion of life—of existence I
'Yes, with me it was diflerent ; she was
a lovely little trusting flower, the daughter
of a very worthy, honest tradesman, who
loved her to the apple of his eye ! but she
was worthy of a throne, and I would have
'given her one. As it was, I could make her
I thought—fool that,l was—honored great,
wealthy. She is poor enough now, and so
aml I •
'put dream of love was delicious, but very
brief. She eloped with me, and as the Lord
God liveth, L meant ,her no harm--for 4
made her my wife he added, with a solem
nity that startled the soldiers who were not
often moved by any strength of expression.
'Yes, she became my wife he continued.
'Your wife !' ejaculated one or two of the
men, 'Thunder and lightning, here, Dick,
give us your hand, my boy !' and a cordial
grasp was given. 'We thought you trifled
with the child.'
'My parents heard that t had eloped with
the child of a tradesman; the soldier, heed
less of this, %vent on ; 'end threatened the
poor old fellow with ruin and annihilation.
It would not have taken much to have bro
ken his heart, for it was half . gonealready ;
but what was done could not be undone ;
and I thought that my father and mother
loved me tOo'well to thwart ine, - and that I
had tmly to bring her home. to giVeher an
other father and mother, whit would love
het...like her own.
4t meant to have put her back into his
bosom, and said, 'Embrace your daughter,
but also embrace my wife, and you can love
her however, very firmly in it ;' and I was
happy, living in a little Eden of my own, far
from the turmoil of life, and expecting then
my little baby Kandy:
.Nly parents prevented this,' he continued
after a coiiiulsive pause, during which he
driAv his hand over bis.browseveral times,
as though things were crowding into his
'brain, and confusing hith with their maid
uditious variety.
'Yes they hindered nII. Wo lived in
Wales at the time, and when my baby wns
born, and she put it in my bosom, and laid
her awn sweet little head like a blossoming
flower beside it, I—l prayed for her, for both
and loved her more and more.' Then I
mode up my mind to return to my father's
house.
'One day I went to my little home, after
walking or fishing. or something, and
found her—gone—both gone ! Oh ! then
the sleeping devil within me Woke up. 1
learned from the people of the house, that a
stern man, and a proud, pale woman, richly
dressed, drove up in a splendid chariot,
drawn by four horses, and carried her ofi—
robbed me of my wife and child. This man
—this woman, were my parents. I travel
ed night and clay, and arrived at their heuse
in town.
demanded my wife !They called her a
designin g , cunning girl—and said something
worse oher than I could butt., and I silenc
ed them, and made them turn pale and trem
ble. I demanded my child. They knew
nothing of either. I cursed them both and
quitted the house, never to return to it more.
need not tell how long after, or by what
means I . traced my Alice through stages of
wretchedness and penury, till I found both
mother and babe, my wife and child, dying
on a mean pallet, in a parish workhouse.
'I could have called curses from heaven,
and fires from hell to avenge this immitiga
ble wrong—for what had this pale, crushed,
tender dove done to win such an atrocious
injury? But when I saw he pale, thin
cheeks, and heard her moaning, and saw
her wasted babe on the half-starved breast
of the woman I adored, as devotees adore:,
heaven,[ stifled my soul—l shed no tears;
1 heard her utter a cry of joy and painond
then her thin helpless hand wandered over.
my head, as I laid it, kneeling by her side
in that horrible hole, upon her breast beside
my child. .
'Little Alice I 1 said, 'little Alice, you
and your sweet babe shall live here no lon
ger.'
''No, George, no,' she said. Oh, her thin
lips, how they trembled ! 'No, George, dear,
we shall not live here long—not very long.'
Give me that brandy, my lads I' said the sol
dier, abruptly.
_ 'To lose a parent—to lose a mother one
loves—to lose a friend one is devoted to—to
lose a dog that has been your companion for
years, is all painful, but what is it to this 1'
continued the soldier. 'When I heard what
she said, I had a terrible foreboding of the
future. Was it for this I had sought her ?
Was it thus my parents had shown their
love ? Was it to see her die that I moved
heaven and earth to discover her? If tears
were rain and not the bitter acrid shower
which scalded my face like a caustic, roses
would have sprung to life around her dying
pillow; and that golden hair so dabbled—
' 'Take my head in your arms, my dear
George,' she said faintly ; 'take my child in
your arms, too. Kiss me—kiss the baby:
You love us, do you not? God bless you—
God protect you. ! Do not separate us. Do
not forget us. I have borne much—but I
loved you so dearly ; and .I forgive every
one, as 1 hope to be forgiven." 4 •
The rough soldiers turned away, and ono
or two wiped their eyes furtively. A few
sturdy but suspicious 'hems' sounded audi,
bly, as they inverted their faces.
'Little Alice,' said 1. 'are you going
without me ? Well, I won't wait long.'
"I am only going before you,' she said ;
and 1 felt that she was speaking the truth.
'I am going before you ; clasp me closer—
let me feel your lips ;—lift up my head—
put my baby's mouth to mine; and—and so
she died, my lads ! and for an hour alter 1
held her baby in my bosom till I felt it cold.
It was dead, too !" - l'here was a long, deep,
impressive pause, and again he went.on :
'They had made my heart desolate.wreck
ed, and void ; and I—l, in turn, desolated
their household and wrecked their peace
forever, As they had two passions to feed
and
. fosterthe.most boundless love forme,
their only child, and a pride which, God
forgive them, they had also given to me, and
the latter the greater,. they sacrificed me to
that pride. Well, I trampled on.their pride.
They knelt to me in the dust and ashes of
humility, and I scorned them. They offer
ed me a bride, the fairest of the land, and I
laughed at them. They could not give me
little Alice, and I had nothing else to ask
for. I had a grand.funenal from that work
house for my wife and child,
.and I put My
name on her coffin-lid,
.and after that day, I
forgot that I had a naine or parents, and I
knew that I had avenged Alice, for their
house is a house of mourning, arid the world
is to them, as to me—a sepulchre.
1 'And this is the reason. my boys, that I
don't care for anything that comes or goes.
that happens or does not happen. I want to
be dead. 1 want to sleep, for my eyes burn
I so at.night, I do mot close them; 1 only.see
little Alice, my golden- haired little wife ;
and I only clasp in my arms the dead baby
till the. drum or trumpet wakes me up, and
then I have only the bullet that hits me, to
look for. It has not come yet, but to-morrow
I_ will have better luck I And so hand me
the brandy.' - .. . •
He took a deep; deep, drew, and a strong
hectic hue came into his white cheeks.—
The soldiers were deeply shocked, and their
1 rude emotions made their hearts throb pain
fully in their broad chests.
'lf none of you can match that story,' said
the soldier, 'go to sleep and don't distort!, me;
.1 am going tp dream of my Alice and her
child again ;' and he fell back On his side,
and a mournful wind swept wailing by, as
if it .had been the'voice of the dead.
,'' .
IgrThere are 624 convictsin the Ohio
fenitontinr);.
NUMBER 10.
Story of a Land Warrant.
There is an enormous traffic carried on in
all our great cities in the article of land wart
rants, and in many of the western towns the
trade in them is quite as active. Forgeries
without number have been practiced in rela•
Lion to them, until now a regular “detector"
is almost as necessary for the transient deal.
er in them, as fora storekeeper who handles
country money. Many, too, are the curious
incidents conn . Fcted with the history and lo
cation of land warrants. Let us repeat a
single incident as it was related to us.
Near the battle-field of Monmouth resided
a revolutionary veteran and his little family.
a wife and only son. A scanty plot of
ground, too sandy to be ever made but indif
ferently productive, was nevertheless a suf.
ficiency for a family whose wants had al
ways been extremely moderate. Sheltered
by one'of the primitive cabins of the coon•.
try, over which the storms of winter howled
without starting a stone from the chimney. or
a shingle from the roof, and fed by health.
ful industry, they passed along the vale of
life in simple sweet contentedness. Hers
with an honest grateful pride did he old man
behold his country rising in national pros
perity and grandeur, to a peerless rank
among the.nations of the earth. Here, top,
he could have spent the few remaining days .
It ft for him, had not the death of his wife.
and the future welfare of his son, opened a
new and aide field for exertion. He knew
this son might shortly be left alone in the
world, without earthly guardian or support.
and he felt the imperious call of duty %Eisen
him settled permanently and prosperously
in life, before he should be gathered to hill
fathers.
No plan seemed open to him, as likely to
succeed, but to avail himself of a hitherto
neglected military land warrant. This title
covered an ample tract somewhere in tho
eastern part of Kentucky ; but from the
changes of names and boundaries consequent
upon the laying oil of new counties, he was
unable to identify the precise location. But,
at all hazards he resolved to search for it in
porson. Ile sold off his trifling property.
discharged his little•debts, anti sot forward
on foot—it was long before the age of rail•
roads—with all the firmness of one inured
to long continued marches under musket
and knapsack, followed by his son and dog.
No matter what emotions thrilled his bosom
at abandoning the -home of his childhood * ,
the grave of his departed wife, and the thous.
and little associations which make up the
awn of home, his features wore the aspect
of determined resolution. Not so the son.
In that grove, and by that babbling brook,
he and his dog had gambolled through many
a vernal holiday. In that dear old cabin,
often had he beguiled the winter evening by
listening to his father's legends of the war, or
put up his prayers at his departed mother's
knee. To all these affecting reminiscences
he was now bidding an everlasting farewell.
Beyond them, everything was a blank.—
Tears flowed from his young eyes as he
turned away forever front the cottage of his
nativity on the battle-ground of - Monmouth.
Painfully they travelled westward until
they reached the nearest branch of the Alle.,
gheny, on which Miry embarked, but poor
ly supplied with Provisions for the voyage
for long travel on the road has made them al
most pennyless. After days of hardship'
and exposure on the river, they made their
little boat fast too tree that overhung titti ;
river side. The mansion of a thriving
planter lay in full view before them,. and
thither-ward they directed they steps.
Evening had already cast its lengthened )
Ehadovra over the landscape, and a 041041
comfortless November night was fast sett.:
hag down upon them. Avoiding the main
entrance to the building, which, was tightly
closed, both door and window, the old eater.
an knocked timidly at the kitchen, and ask.•
ed the privilege of a shelter for himself and
child till morning, The owner turned a
deaf ear to the humble application. and hid
the travelling vagabond begone. baud:
tudo overcome the heart which stood
'flayed in many a hurrioars of balle,and ho
crawled into an outhouse of the boorish plan
ter, where, hungry wet and cold, ho slum!
bead soundly on a bed of straw.
Daybreak saw the travelleraon their way
to an adjacent town, where warmth and re..
fresh;nent reanimated their spirits. They
found theniselvea on one of the great Am.
al btittouts of Kentucky. The veteran sought
a lawyer, exhibited, his warrant, and found
to his astonishment, that it made him mall.
ter of e wealthy plantation. Meer exami.
nation identified it as the very ground from
Which they had been so unfeelingly rept*:
ed the night before I The brutal occupant
I was forced, in his turn to beg : yet his pray
er was more availing, for the humane veter.
an permitted hiinto spend thn remainder of
his days on a remote corner of -the plan*
tion—the fitting termination of what, bad
been a long career of knavery and ciuelky.
THE WIFE'S Clowszwr.—The Missouri
Legislature has before it a bill providing that
no man shall be allowed to endorse a rtouS
,without the consent of his wife, and that til
endorsement shall lie valid la Jaw Wit Mitt
it 'eh