D. A. BUEHLER, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
VOL. XVIII.-15.1
[From the Lonieville Journal
THE FOREST STREAM.
Deep in the forest's unpruned shado,
Where wild birds carol all day long
To listening groves in green arrayed,
A brooklet pours its pleasant song.
Upon its hanks the fair wild-flowers
Are twined in many a curious wreath,
And, high o'er arching, trellised bowers
• Conceal the waves that plash beneath.
No sound of labor o'er awoke
The echoes brooding on its shore ;
The lofty elm and spreading oak
Are towering there with ages hoar.
The spotted deer comes down to drink,
At hush of noon, its chrystal wave ;
The yellow panther seeks its brink,
Where birds their lagging pinions lace!
The forest cultureless and wild,
That spreads around the babbling stream,
Seems nature's temple', undefiled
By rites that mock the great supreme.
Them in the ancient solitude,
Where vagrant man bath seldom trod,
Where noisy mirth may nut intrude,
The siieser seems to worship Clod I
Tho deep religious awe' that steals
Upon the soul mid scenes like thaw, 4 '
May slumber where the organ peals
Through gorgeous lanes o'er bendod knees!
RKuotos.—There is a religion in every
thing around us ; calm and holy religion
in the unbreathing things of nature, which
man would do well to imitate. It is h
meek and blessed influence, stealing, as it
were, upon the heart. It comes quietly
and without excitement. It has no terror;
no gloom in its approaches. It rouses
not the passions, and is untrammeled by
the creeds and unshadowed by the super
stitions of men. • It Is from the bands of
the author, flowing from the immediate
presence of the great spirit which pervades
and quickens it. It is written in the arch
ed skies. It is on the sailing clouds and
in the invisible winds. It is amongst the
hills and valleys of the earth where the
shrubless mountain pierces the atmosphere
of the eternal-winter, or where the mighty
forest fluctuates before the strong wind
with its dark waves of green foliage. It
spreads out like a legible language upon
the broad face of the unsleeping ocean.—
It is that which lifts the spirit within us un
til it is tall enough to overlook the shadow
of our place of probation ; which breaks,
link after link, the chain which binds to
materiality, and opens to our imagination
a world of spiritual beauty.
THE COURSE OF PROVIDENCE
The Pottsville Democratic! Press states
that a few days since letters from Captain
James Nagle, and Lieut. Simon 8. Nagle,
written from Vera Cruz, were received by
their wives, enclosing a daguerreotype
likeness of each of these officers, as tokens
of love, and a few gold pieces. Lieut. Na
gle, in his letter, bids his wife kiss their
little son for him. "Poor fellow !" adds
the Press, "he little dreamed that at the
time his letter was written, his charting boy
was quietly slumbering in his little grave,
on the beautiful mountain side of his grate
fully remembered home !" There is much
in this simple but affecting incident. It
shows the perfect uncertainty of life, no
matter how seemingly secure. Here is a
man who has left the quiet, retired family
circle, to mingle in the strife and danger
of war, with an impression, perhaps, of
chances against his ever again returning to
the bowfin of his family, but without the
shadow of a thought that such a visiter as
death can etilb,the home he has left.—
Men arc falling all about him, and he counts
it almost a miracle that lie himself is not
struck down ; he does not once think that
the insatiate archer has winged the shaft
that quivers in the breast of the boy he has
left behind him in apparent safety and se
curity, with the ever watchful eye of the
another upon him, and the no less natural
solicitude of relatives and friends to guard
him from danger. The father sitting upon
the very edge of the yawning cavern, with
the groans of the dead and dying all about
him, and the whizzing missiles of destruc
tion_ filling the air on every side, is spared,
while tint child, far away, in the quiet,' se
cluded mountain home, dies I Such is the
dispensation of Providence ! When,aeem
inglY, in the very vortex of danger, we are
frequently spared—while, when in appa
rently the greatest security, wo are as often
struck down. In the language of the poet
"F a t e steals along with silent tread,
Pound oileneet in what least we dread ;
Piowns In the storm with angry brow,
But in the sunshine strikes the blow !"
. --
The parpt, who would train the child
in theiray he should go, should go in the
way he would train the child.
It.i.irsittmoN.--.A. lawyer
torah* in a glue of' seawall and battery
was cross-examining a witness in relation
to the force of the blow struck. ~ W hat
kind ot a Mow was given t" asked the law
yer. bid* of the common ltind."—
"Describe the bkhE5!:,...`4091 not &stolid
description:: ."Shoirthe whatkind of a
brow it was." - "I cannot. iu must;
"I won't." -The lawyer appealed to the
Court.
The Court told the witness that if the
counsel insisted upon his showing what
kind of a Wow it was, ho must do so.
4 .104 you insist !Ton it!" asked the wit.
ness. 4.1.d0."
A.Well, tom; - iiitteie you compell me to
show it, it was this kind of a blow 11 at
the same time, suiting the' action to_tite
N
word, NO hating over the astonished
disciplo of Coke' upon Littleton.
THE BARON'S DAUGHTER
OR
May Day hi the Olden Time.
"Now, Grace, sweet Grace, do lay aside
your viol and grant my request."
The speaker was in the bloontof youth
and beauty, richly attired, and with the
air of easy dignity which betokened high
birth. She stood on the battlement of one
of those massive castles which rose over
all England during the reign •of Stephen,
and a few of which yet remain in our
mother country to attest the stormy char
rcter of that age.
The companion whom she addressed sat
at her feet, and was playing a troubador's
lay on the small viol then in fashion. She
was somewhat Older than the speaker :
and less richly dressed. Grace was a
cousin of the baron's daughter, and her ad-
riser and companion.
"And what may the request be ?" said
Grace, looking up.
"Oh ! you must promiSe to grant it be
fore I can tell you."
"Nay ! that I can scarcely do. What
would your father say if he knew 'fulfill
cd my charge so carelessly 1"
"Well, I will tell you. But you must
positively consent," said Maud, staoping
and kissing her friend's cheek caressingly.
"I wish, then, to go down the green and
see the villagers at their sport, for it is as
sweet a May-day as I ever saw, and we
have been cooped up here all this winter."
Grace looked forth from the castle wall
when her companion alluded to the sports
of the villagers; and heaved a sigh. It was
indeed a morning to make the two young
girls wish for an hour's liberty. The sea
son was an advanced one, and already the
earlier trees were in leaf, while myriads of
flowers blushed in the wood and meadow,
filling the air with fragrance. The_dew
spangled in the grass; the birds sang,,from
the spray ; the waters danced and sparkled
in the sunshine ; and a soft breeze kissing
the brow of the maidens, tossed their curls,
giving a refreshing tone to their spirits as
well as a rosier hue to their cheek. No
wonder thnt Grace sighed as she answered,
"Indeed, Maud, Ishould like to tread the
greenwood once more myself, but you
know the promise I gave your father, not
to leave the castle wall until his return
from Normandy."
"Ah ! but he never dreamed4)f impris
oning us here for four long months."
•But I should never forgive myself if
we went abroad and any accident happen
ed. Your father told me I must supply
the place of a mother to you—you know,
Maud, I am nearly ten years the elder,
and ought to be discreet accordingly."
"Yet this once—only this once," plead
ed Maud. Surely none of the freebooters
will be abroad on May-day. Besides the
village is almost in sight from the castle."
Grace looked wistfully on the smiling
landscape and was half persuaded. Yet
she shook her head. The period was in
deed one of unusual danger; for it was
during the iMprisontheitiof gitdifird of the
Lion Heart in Germany ; a period when
lawlessness reigned supreme, and when
the minions of the usurper, John, daily
committed the greatest atrocities. And as
the Baron De la Spencer adhered to the
rightful king, there was but little safety for
his household except behind the stone wall's
of his castle. Hence, on departing on a
secret mission to the continent, relative to
the ransom of his monarch, he had left his
daughter in charge of the more prudent
Grace exhorting her on no account to leave
the castle until his return
But Maud had set her heart on witnessing
the scenes of the day, and she now began
to ply her cousin with a thousand argu
m_ents, until at last Grace consented, per-
suading herself that there could be no harm
in transgressing the injunction for a sin-
gle morning. But to insure the safety of
their excursion, she ordered a part of the
garrison to attend them. Leaving behind
only just sufficient to man the walla.
•Maud and Grace, therefore, mounted
their palkroys, and attended by a dozen
men-at-arms, left the castle gate. Trotting
lown a gentle elope, they turned an angle
of the wood and soon reached the village
green. Here they were received with
loud shouts of welcome,but Matld
ly desired that their sports might not be
interrupted, and with "redoubled gleo the
merry revellers resumed their games.—
Meanwhile she and Grace looked on.
Ahd a jocund spectacle it was. High
in the centre of tho green,a May-pole rear-
ed its 'head, decorated with innumerable
wreaths, while a gay pennon floated from
,kyop. Notar (Min this was a lower
made • f the green branches of trees inter.
ed, in which on a rude floral seat was
he village belle, now qneen of May.
Three oil four of the rude musicians of the
mammon people of that period kept time
togethei, playing while the villagers danc-
NL Here - a dragon, made of course of
painted cloth' stretched on hoops, moved
about, otmesionally vomiting ire. A huge
hobby horse TRW by dolighyd the specie-
tors with his pranks. All was mirth and
GETTYSBURG, PA. FRIDAY EVENING, JUNE 25, 1847.
Maud was in the mood to enjoy the
scene, and with Grace at her elbow kept
remarking on the different groups. But
site was principally attracted by a gallant
in the dress of a forester, whose dashing
air carried every thing before it with the
village girls. He and the Quoon of May
had been for some time engaged in a very .
obvious flirtation, apparently much to the
chagrin of a more awkward yeoman who
eyed the couple with angry glances.—
Maud knew the latter to he a man of sub
stance and worth, but the forester was to
tally unknown to her, though now and
then she fancied sho had seen a face like
his. He appeared too as though desirous
of catching her eye. at least so Maud
thought, as she could not help following
his fine shape with her eyes. Twice their
glances met, and Maud was conscious of
blushing, though ?why she should do so for
a yeoman site could not tell.
In the courtto of her observations she
noticed that there Was a larger number of
men present than was usual, and that quite
one-half of their faces were strange na her.-
Site mentioned this fact to,Gpee.
"Indeed I now perceive it, too," said her
cousin, with symptoms of alarm. "There
is something strange In this, and it may
be peril. Dear Maud, had we not better
return ?"
"0, not yet—not yet," cried the gay
and wreckless Maud. "Surely there can
be no danger while we are backed by These
stout men-at-arms. Wait a little while,
for there wilt be fun yet from Master Green
jacket's flirtations with our pretty Queen
of May—l see already that her old lover is
itching for a bout at single-stick."
'•IIo might chance to get the worst of it,"
said the old seneschal, who at once squired
the ladies and commanded the men-at-arms.
"A h ! then you know this forester. He
is a handsome fellow at any rate," said
Maud.
"No, I do not know him," said the vete
ran, •Hat• he looks as stipple as a young
sspling, and—my word on it !--could knock
dull Master lodge head over heals before
he knew it."
"Who can he be 1" said Graco. "Not
an outlaw, I hope ; for if so wo had better
return at once."
"As you say, my lady," replied the old
man deferentially, "hut, for my part, I
don't look.cm these outlaws as enemies ;
they are true and good Englishnien, and
only foes to knavish priests and hungry
Normans. You, my lady, who come of
saxon blood, ought never to (ear the friends
of the people."
"Nordo I," said Maud. dWe will stay."
The sport went on now with increased
activity, and for some time Maud and
Grace did nothing but laugh at the antis of
the hobby-horse, and the capers of the dra
gon. Suddenly, however, a cry of alarm
arose, and instantaneously was heard the
clatter of approaching horse-men. By the
time Maud could look around, a body of
men at arms, not less than fifty in number,
had galloped on the lawn, of which they
took possession, the affrighted villagers
flying in every direction.
The old seneschal immediately formed
his little troolittiotind their mistress, for he
recognized in the leader of the intruders,
the Lord Mountjoy, an hereditary foe of the
baron,a neighboring noble of the worst char
acter, and a zealous partizan of Prince John.
The veteran hoped to have escaped unob
served in the collision, but the flutter of
the women's garments unfortunately at
tracted the attention of the lawless noble.
"Ha! what have we yonder I" he ex
claimed. v "By St, Jude, those ladies, and
guarded by de Spencer's men-at-arms.- 1
They must be the pretty doves he has
kept cooped in his infernal stronghold du
his absence. The saints be praised that
such rare creatures are thrown in our path
to-day—for by our halidome, we might
have wished for them long enough ere we
could have rifled them froth their nests.—
Wilfred, you ride toward the wood road
and cut off their retreat. We will keep
the ifilitway. A rare banquet we shall
have to night with these pretty dames for
•
company." '
With that ho laughed a coarse laugh
which reached even the ears of Maud, and
made her tremble with apprehension, for
for by this time she had 'detected the cog
nizance of her father's foe.
"Close up,—close up," cried the old
seneschal, as ho saw the hostile movement
of the enemy. "We must die around our
mistress if they attack us. But let me
speak them fair."
The veteran accordingly rode forward
and attempted to parley with the enemy;
but he was laughed to scorn when he ask
ed a free passage for his noble mistress.
"Nay, nay, old follow, not so fast," eried
Mountjoy. "The lady Maud bath a fine
estate and will thatch well with mine own
noble self. Fortune bath placed heels% my
handi,,Sed I shall not tieglect the chance,,
you may be sure."
"Then over our dead bodies only shall
you take her, cried the old seneschal,
backlo his men. '
"Be itao,"aaid the noble.
Meantime the villagers hid totally dia. I
- appeared, only a few of the men lingeringi
"FEARLESS AND FREE."
behind. Among these .was the forester,
who, during the last few minutes, had
been drawing near to Maud. lie did not,
however, seem to purpose engaging in The
strife, but sauntered carelessly along, as if
only desirous of getting a suitable position
to observe the struggle. Once or twice he
whistled in an idle - way; and- indif
ferently around. Maud, who even in her
terror, was still pursued by his image, at
first hoped ho was coming to their aid;
but in this she was sadly disappointed, for
when he had approached within twenty
yards, he stopped at the door of a cottage,
and stood idly leaning against the door post.
The gwless noble now put his men in
, motion, and at this instont they came on at
I a gallop with lances...leveled. The Litib
band around Maud met the shock bmveli,
but several of them were unhorsed. The
seneschal, however, still kept his saddle,
and drawing his sword, while he shouted'
to encourage his men, he placed himself
anew in front of Maud, like a faithful
watch -dog defending his charge.
-But his heroic devotion was in vain.
With one blow of his huge battle-axe,
Mountjoy hurled the old man to the earth,
1 and contihuing his rapid career, reached
the side of the now defenceless Maud.—
With a shriek, the hapless maiden covered'
her face from his hated sight; while Grace,
as if her feeble arms could have protected
her cousin, threw heiself between Maud
and her assailants.
In this extremity aid came from a quar
ter whence it had ceased to be expected.
Daring the events we have described, the
forester had gazed carelessly on the con
flict—occasionally, however, looking to
wards the wood ; but when he saw Mount
joy bear down the old seneschal, he hasti
ly stepped into the cottage and immediate
ly re-appeared with a bow and cloth yard
shaft. It. was' the work ofA momentto lit
the latter to the strings; and quick as
thought, the arrow sped on its mission.—
Right through thejtars of MounijOy's hel
met the shaft found its way, penetrating
and thence entering the brain: and, with a
dull groan, the rude assailant-fell backward
from the saddle, and tumbled headlong to
the earth. He had not even time to insult
Maud by a touch,'
At the same instant a sheer-was heard
from the wood, and thirty bold archers
stepped forth, each man armed with a bow,
and several arrows stuck in his belt. AT
their head was a tall, stalwart wan, whose
eagle plume and • silver horn, to say nothing
of his bearing, betrayed one used to com
mand. Ho waved his hand, and thirty ar
rows were promptly fitted to the string.—
He gave the signal, and each cloth yard
shaft sped on its fatal errand. Half of the
ravishers fell to the ground, and the rest
took to flight, thodgh oven before that ar
rowy hail rained on them, they had turned
their horses' heads in fear As the dis.
comfited villains galway, the bolt.
foresters gave three hearty cheers.
And now the forester, whose shaft had
sent Monntjoy to his last account, hurried
up to the rescued ladies, where the he
ro with the eagle plume himself appeared
the moment after. In his way he raised
the old seneschal, who had been only stun-
ned and was now coming to himself.
Maud, as well as Grace, was not with
out resolution; and instead of - swooning;
as many a modern young damsel would
have done, collected her spirits and turned
to thank her deliverers. The young for
ester had now removed his cap, and as she
gazed on his features, Maud exclaimed—
" What ! Henry Neville here! Or am
I dreaming?"
"Not dreaming, lady fair," he exclaim
ed on bended knee. It is indeed your on
fortunate lover, happy for once, however
since he has rendered you some slight ser
"knd this," she said, turning to the . cap
lain of the foresters—"this
"Robin Hood!" exclaimed that renown
ed champion. "The friend of all honest
nobles like the good Lord Spencer, and es-
pecially of beauty in distress."
This happy denoument was rendered
oven more felicitous by the information
now imparted to Maud that her faithful
band had suffered comparatively little,
though several were bruised and wounded,
the short period during which the conflict
lasted having preiented more serious hurts.
The principal execution had been done on
the ene y, and by Robin Mod's archers,
In afe initial) the villagers retafigl to
the green.
But how came a lover of. Maud in the
disguise of a forester, we hear the reader
ask. , Young Neville had been a page' for-
mexiyinionnll3penceet_loneehnld, an
white.there had imbibed a secret affection
for Maud. But he was only of a simple
knight's degree, and dare not aspire to hag
hand. Hence helell the castle in despair,
two summers ace, resolved to Make, his
fortune by his sword, betore be aponlyso.
licited ;Viand's love. But though a brave
and gallant knight he bad been unartunate,
for adhering to the caw, of,. the absent
monarch, he had been stripped of his little
estate by the minions Of Piihett Jobn, and
finally, forced by an unjust outlawry, to
take to the greenwood, like many another
loyal gentleman. Hie old love for nand
led him to linger in the vicinity of her fath
er's castle, and foitune had , ciiiiiced to
bring thither with him, on this occasion, his
leadcrand friend, the banished earl of Hun
invet, or as he called himself iwthikormt,
Robin Hood. Most of his fellow archers
had mingled in the sports unarmed,-but
their weapons were only a short , distance
off, so that our hero. on seeing the intentions
of the robber noble, had sent hie Compan
ions to procure their arms and summon
their leader, who with a small band remain
ed in the wood to guard them—Neville
reserving his own interfarencein the mean
time for a critical moment; if such should
happen before Robin Hood arrived. We
_have_seen how boldly and effectually he
interfered at the right instant. '
Great were the rejoicings at Spencer
Caetle two days afterward, when its lord
arrived, bringing the intelligence thatiting
Richard was -free and in England; bu
even more boisterous was the miirtht and
festivity, when a few months later, Maud
and Neville were united, the monarchhim
self giving away the bride. - /
Robin Hood was at- the wedding:Miring
in the meantime been restored to his earl
dom. Grace, not long after, married a
knight in King Richards train.
AN_ INCIDENT AT A yiINRAL "LONG MIR
soo."—ln the Literary History of the Uni
ted. Kingdom, in the, last number of the
North American, Review, we find the fol
lowing incident related as having taken
place at the burial of William the Conque
ror. These anecdotes of olden times stie
not familiar with every one, and they are
interesting for that reason :
"Just as the body was about to be low
ered into the grave, a man came forward,
crying out--... Clerks and bishops'! this
ground is mine, Upon it stood the house
af,my, father. The man for whom you
pray wrested it from me to build thereon'
his church:- I have neither sold my land
nor mortgaged , it, - nor have I forfeited it,
nor made any grant whatsoever of it. It
is my right, and I claim it. ,In the name,,
of Clod I forbid you to lay the body of the
spoiler therein, oeto -C - over it with my
clay." All present confirmed the truth of
the man's words. ' The bishops told 'him
to approach, and making a bargain with
hint, delivered him silty as the price
of the sepulchre only, engaging to indem
• nify him equitably for,tbe reminder of the
ground. The corpse baltein dressed in
the royal habit and robe, but it was not in
a coffin. On its being placed in the grave
whose sides consisted of masonry, and
which was found to be too narrow, it be
came necessary to force it down, which
caused it to burst. Incense and perfumes
were burned in abundance, but without a
vail. The crowd dispersed in disgust and
the priests themselves hurrying the core.
mony soon deserted the church."
FATAL ISSUE Of A PRACTICAL J0KR.....
Tho annexed article from a London Mag-
azine ought to operate as a caution to prac
tical jokers :
The sister of a medical man in London
had, in the presence of two young gentle
men who-were studying medicine with het
brother, ridiculed the weakness and folly
by which some persons are governed. She
said for her part she had no , superstitious
fears, and had courage for any emergency
that might happen. The young men doubt,-
ed the truth of her boastings, and one of
them proposed to the outer that, merely by
way of a joke, they would put her courage
to the test. In a glass case in the - bootor'e
study was a human skeleton. This they
removed and placed in the young lady's
bed. She retired at the usual hour,.and
they stealthily followed her to listen.—
Some time elapsed and no sound was
heard. They were about descending the
stairs, thinking their jest had failed, and
that in reality . she was as courageous as
she had boasted herself to be. Scarcely
had they come to this conclusion ore their
ears were assailed by a most' appalling
shriek, after which all becamesilent. TheY
retirod, pleasoll with their success, and
thinking of the laugh and joke they should
have with her in the morning at breakfast.
Morning came,. but she did not come
down as usual, they suffered an hour or so
to elapse, and her brother, thinking she
might have overslept herself, klockod for
admittance, calling her by name of the MIN
time. No answer being returned. he and
the young men forced herdoor, and'and-to
*late, there eat the poor girl playing with
oor
the bony fingers of the grira'and appalling
skeleton, quite unconscious o the presence
of the. intruders ; there the p thing sat
a confirmed idiot for life. When she gave
at one fearful shriek 4er roman fled nev-
. to - return.tt is neetileas
. A .xtipr:Aon
the remorse that atteniled the 4ilierliviti - of
the two'young men.
THE bentax.--TArt. Irish gentleman re
-Mutable Tor hiedevotions;: to the fair sett,
Once remarked, "Never be-critical - the
ladies. 'rake itior granted that they are
all hendeomeand goad. A true gentleman
will never kook on the 'faults of a pretty
woman without shutting his eyes!" ,
More than thirteen of the fixed stars,
is said, have disappnared within the last
two ceuturios.
A CRIMINAL'S LAST' HOUR.
• The following la extroolod Ara•an- intensaing
book, lately published in England,. and (lidded
"Experiences of a Goal chaplain." The 'attires
&Oat seems to be the melioration of the • criminal
cods. He writes with rCpiiiandlleerribes with
delity. 4 His attempt* are noi direetid to the eit•
cite:nen ofany'rympallly With the WlCked, but, to
au exhibition - of the' . ferirfttrolti - EftEtidanyrrport
'heretical alialcitfianitith4 cifieti; yre hare
lieldon read a chapter of roow_tluillini tonav-r-
The last morning of' her - earthly• exis
tence arrived. Skit had slept, I was told,
much and calmly during he night, and,
when roused at six by the, watehorti;eximea
.sed.. basalt - -Ifonatly refetisherOiy . eight,
hours 'of unbroken •rest," and 'then rose ,
and dressed heinelf with.rerotirkble alacti
ty. At seven Isavir her'sgahloitie looked
rightfully Pelee eett her Annexes - heti the
fixedness and , rigidity of Marble but nei
41er tear nor sigh escaped lter. ! 110:nerve
was fully equal m her..hour of extremity,
'She replied'prenappyto a question I put
put to heroindtbettintieiitieiitevrequen
that I would abstain Rim touching upon
any religious topic.
Meanwhile the hum _of the: dense 'multi-
lode gathered around'the building Was dii
tinedy audible, even in the prison; and the
depressing effects of thit low, -booming.
deepening sound, heard 'at such an hour;
and under such circumstance, none can es
timate save those who have listened
At eight the nfelaucholy processlon began
to move. As, tLA criminal was onAlie
point of joining it, 'the untieriihtwiff, , liy,
the expressed wish,fit was onderstood,
the judge, stepped forward and asked her
whether she acknowledgeti the justice of
her sentence. .
"I assert now," 'Wu her tep!s firmly
and distinctly givett,“as I hive aiatftibm
the first, that neither direetli nor indirect-
ly had - I - any knowledge or share in Mr;
Anthill's death. If he died by poison; it
was neither mixed nor presented by,Ane "
The querist seemeddinotteeried toTher
reply,.and was apparently about to ientod . ►
el the question, *hen the priaoher abiupt
ly turned from him attialigb Of this!
tientlemen, I am ready, I wi3uld• fain
shorter, this bitter hour." ;••••• - • , •
Another minute and we stood , upowthe
Mine has been a chequered lira .1 --many
btive been the ivahifbi 'mensal flume has to
witness, and many my distressing recol
lections of the gloothy. past, but never did
I feel more sensibly the patufulnus•of my
unenviable appointment than whim I stood
beside that wretched, but moat determined
woman. The bearing of the prisoner, !he
critic for which she was condemned, Ow.,
doubt which hung oven her casei the sullen,'
deep, and swelling roar of the mob,---a
roar in which no. word could ,bc acCurcie
ty caught, and no word was distinctly, and,
ible, , but which, if I:understood all . its
strange , and peculiar monotone, betokened
hostility and impatience-each and; all
these , auendant, circumstances aggravated„
the horror of the scene.
It was u I expected.. The .momen t the
. , en .
made her appeararKe. a yell of_exultetieti
buret from the heaving, restless, excited
multitude below. , It • was no partial ea
pression of feelink-41 wee not theeplenet
_
is etittllitiotr of a kW - fioltre-nittithilf•stil
merciless indiyicluals--it was loud,
ment and general. Hsd her personal ap
pearance been prepossessing—had She
been youthful or handsome—had she look-
ed gentle er resigned, 1 atti poesinided,*
capricious is thy reeking, of Lmt4 that her,
receptionwould have, been less feronious
and appalling; but, the spectators thought,
that in her marked and repulsive visage,
they recognized.the features of a rinigeu
murderess, and vented that opinion in the
manner • most consonant to their convic-
She felt this. “And the Amt ,eondettin
me !" was her remaritsr' ' thy
blood—are eager to witness . my dying
struggles. Be it so! Be quiek,'air," said
she, addressing the hangman; "these
worthy people are impatient, and i'love
pot theireompany." •
The fatal noose was placed around her
neck—a handkerchief %flail' put into her
hand. The under-sheriff and his party
retired; but still I hoveied near her. The
pale lips moved, I hope—l ever will hope
—in prayer. The words dinerey—par-
Jour - faintly reached me.- - Was that
proud spirit at length bending before its
Maker! Did jt pass away in .accents of
prayer and supplication? I truat.stv, I
watched her every movement with intense
and 'painful earnestness, but not long. A
few seconds, and she gave a final signal, and
passed, amid the execrations of her fel
lows, into the dread pres once uf her Maker !
A MORAL. PICTURE OF LONDON.'•••4IICre
are 30,000 common thieves in London :
10,000 children learning crime ; 3,000 hou
ses of stolen goods, and about 10,000 com
mon gamblers.
The ~ W eekly Despatch," an infidetpi.
per, has a circulation of 150,000 copies a
week, in the city !
The population of London, now, is a
bout 2,250,4100 I •
-Al Mae are 100,000 people in the me
troPolie alone unprovitled with n►eana of
ocligiouvworohip.
TWO. DOLLARS PER AP 40i11.
NEW SERIES--N 0.5.
There are about 108,000 female ser
vants in Loitdon. Of this number, from
14,000 to 16,000 are daily changing pla
ces, • .
Upwards, of 511,000 persons are now in
mates ;if the London work-honses ; 60,-
. - 000 are receiving out-door relief; and
from T,OOO - to 2;000 nightly shelter them
selves in the refuges for theltouseless. In
addition to this number, there are thou
sands who live by begging, and thousands
live by criminal practices.
THE NOTORIOUS ROHRER "THUNDER.
nom" DISCOVERED.—The celebrated Eng-
Huh . robber, Thunderbolt, who has fora
niiinber of years past. successfully eluded
all search, died a few days since at Brut,.
tleboro', Vt., where he had resided a num
ber of years, and enjoyed much celebrity as
a PhYsiciiin;entirely unsuspoeted,hut much
respected. The Barre Patriot gives the
following account of the discovery of who
he was :
During his last illness he refused to be
undreseed; and , when near his end, hired
two men to bury 'him in his clothes, just
es he dled; - ft contract *hick was'not ful
filled on their part, in conseciuenco ol tluz
neighbors, who were desirous of giving his
remains a more decent and befitting burial.
On rerimvinghre" clothes, previous to his
being laid out, the cause of this eccentric
desire - of his was manifest—the withered
leg aodeork hie], the shot marktwand th e
soar Which witnessed a previons attempt
at suicide—precisbly as laid down in Light- .
liiot'a description of him—marked him as
the Thunderbolt who had gained such no-
JOAO., in England and this country, as
one of the rnoeedaringand successful high
waymen' that - ever graced the annals of
crime. 'On his person were else foand a
dirk :anti pistol, and among his onsets„'
armsr of all descriptions, together with
watches,' diamonds, jewelry, &c. &c. toe
an enormous value, packed away sir Saw
dust,' He always .sent dressed in three
obit's of clothes , to ' :hake - his figure more
portly, , and to - prevent recognition; and' his
withered leg'Was found wound with clothes
to make it appear the size of the otheri",,
tfEW §YECIEEI I'DEELIKCTIOsmsaiNcL=:Aii
emjpent engraver of Paris, (author of the
celebrated uConfessions of 'St. Jerome"
after nominichino, and the_ 6 !Coortt of A"
after Vandyck) had been long a candi
-4.10."9r ~the honor 4mulemiciatti,
had iu the mean time grown old, but by •
the-reaching backward to a young wife. he
hatbridged the widening chasm of the past
and still , dated from
.the age of hope and
promise. His Wife was pretty, she hail
talent; too,-. : but it lay in diplomacy. It
entered her head to see whether she could
briiig 'about her ihusband's electioh to a
chair in the academy which lied suddenly
become vacant. She toek a list of all the
meinbare, and called on the first.
“My 'husband is an old man !” was her
,
remark, as shelrose from hei modest ctiti:
*"Xoa,resembleltlm verylittle,madeta!!
was the reply of the booked immortal.
tiFfe has labored mach and, waited king
tor,ttestientic is a 4eut.
vacant."
“Ah, my dear madam, but I have alrea
dy proigieed.”
s neither wilth - to interfere with Your
engagements, nor to dispossess) a more
wothy candidate; but my hu sbawl is
spare him...the dishonor of not having one
vote, since present himself lie must. Let
him "have One voice, and let that he yours."
Never Were words sped with a better-
artillery of tones, eyes, and supplicating
smiles I The immortal member had some
where about him a softness' still boatel)—
,
,he yielded—tbe-lovely applicant enrtesied
.out with grateful murmurs.
Tbunext'acatlemic inn on the list was as
sailed with precidely the same result. And
BO with the next—and the next. ACher
husband's late dinner of that day she sat
down with a secret .in her.heart that made
her serve the soup with mystic amiability
—every member having given the promise
that his one ineffectual vote should shield
young beauty's Old husband from life's
closing climax of mortification.
The day of electiortarrived. Inem
bars were a little mysterious as to the
name upon their , ballot. The almost
ter
ta:n candidate was Moue. o—, butesch
academician k,ew this s aud thought that
his own vole for another would not alrce:t
the result, and at the same time gretify, a
lovely woman and do charity to ea old
man. The ballot box was turned, said the
vote recorded. The old engraver 'Wee
pronounced' elected with anpieceitenied $47
nonimity. blow not tniallPircti that say
two of the members came subsequently to
any toplanation-whiell neematted-lcwitte
new member's unexpected advent to their
fellowship of immortality.—lisms Aunt.
Tommie Seanz.--The editor ottbe
Albsay Knickerbocker says that 'in pais.
ing du.oegh the walks of grave4srd, in
feettedy, he witnessed a meow
which would hare drawn tows hew the
- heart of s stone. Seated huddit_isAistat
made grave were three chilikei, Orr eyee
bedewed with tears, welsh( Gentles*
over the spot where lay alloalbodrba*
which. to thara, was the OM kosettobjeri
cu ea/dr.:their Monis: