~ilL
tNIENLEN, EDITOR AND ?ROPRIETOR.
VOL. XI X.--41
LIST' OF' RETAILERS
1-114' 90431 4 18, Wares and Merchandise,
IL , within the.4o6unty of Adams, return
cdsend chuisified by, the undersigned, Ap
praiser of MercaatileVaxes , in accordance
with the Act of. April. *2, 1846—for the
year 18413 :
' :. Dialers. Amount.
ibionoln tit iirrresatact.
13 David' MaddlecolT, •10 DO
14 Cobean , and King. 7 00
14 John 74. Stevenson & Ca. 7 00
12
,9,041. Arnold. 12 50
9 Saenael Fabnestook, . 25 00'
14 ,cleorp Little, 7 00
,14 Martino ,i3ampaea, 7 00
19 David Ziegler, --- 10 00
le Henry Sell, 10 00
111 - 'Saivinettl7llnehter, --- ---- - • --7. 00
14 Keller Kurtz,
14 John Walken,
14 Vira. 1. itirey,
• STEPHAN TOWNSHIP.
13 Abraham King, ,
14 Darirl Shull,
14 Ephriim•Zuck, • `.
BILNALLIEN TOWNIE?.
14 James Snodgrus,
14 Jesse Houck.
14 Edward Stahley.
14 John Burkholder,
14 John M'Knight,
14 0. P. House,
14 Henry W. Churn:flan,
14 Abel T. Wright,
14 Peter Hulick,
TIRONN. TOWNSHIP.
14 Jacob Hollinger,
14 Havid Deatrick,
14 Jesse Cline,
HAMILTON TOWNSHIP,
14 Jacob S. Hildebrand, .
•14 Charles Spangler,
14 John Aulabaugh,
14 Wm. Wolf,
14 John,Ruff,
14 John Hew,
FRANKLIN TOWNSHIP.
14 Abraham Scott,
14 Thomas J. Cooper,
14 Philip Hann,
14 Jacob Lower,
14 Peter Mickley.
14 Stick & Witmore,
14 Beecher & Hoover,
HAMILTONIAN TOWNSHIP
13 Jacob Brinkerhoof,
14 John Homy,
I C. T. Weigley,
14 Jacob Ileitleigh,
LIBERTY TOWNSHIP.
14. Sohn Nunnemaker,
44. Joseph & J. Riddtemoser,
HUNTINOTON TOWNSHIP.
12. \Vm. & B. Gardner,
13. Holtzinger & Ferree,
13. John B. M'Creary,
14. Win. Kettlewell,
14. Jacob A. Myers.
LATIS:IRE TOWNSHIP.
13. David Newcomer,
IHIRWICK TOWNSHIP.
13. Jacob Martin,
1:1 +Lilly & Riley,
14. B. Sullivan.
14. John Clunk,
seawica softoron
14. Ambrose M'Farlape,'
14. William Bittinger,
14. tichelberger & Hollinger,
mousrrst.sasasr TOWNSHIP,
12. John Miller,.
14. John Shealy,
11. Jonathan Y oung,
NUL NTJoY TowNsiiir.
14. William W alker,
14. Simon Reader,
READING TOWNSHIP.
14. David white,
14. Jacob Aulahaugh, Jr.,
OERMANI TOWNSHIP.
13. Henry Sliriver,
13. Sneeringer & Co.,
18. George Myers & Son,
14. Edward C, 'Bishop.
14. Samuel Berlin,
14. Isaac.Suyder,
14. Ephraim llarner,
•
OOMOWAGO TOWNSHIP.
14. E. J. Owings,
14. John tpby,
.rofttopt Ton - nasty.
r . •
14: Peter 7 00
rteliteArbo sell Liquors, will pay 50 1
per cent. in addition to the amount of their
respettdite clasaifications.
10:7Notice is hereby given to all per
sons interttsted in the above return and
clanification, that I will hold an Appeal at
Ike Cotntniasioner's gfileo, in Gettrburg,
on,hureiltesi 27114 ffity qf April next.
between'. thelhoutii tifa Ind Bo'clock, to
hesroill Onions that may consider them
saltreniitrieved by said classification. '
Jitoop AUGHINBAUGH.
Alersontilfdppraiser.
-- - prat 81. 1843.-4 t
CAVICIL
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kies , .i , op'ed bit istitusl....sossera•
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Alai ..,(Ina ate..requeiied 'Lo make itrinie l 4,=
ate paymeqiatalit„ qic, *piss elaims will
present , them properly
. autheuticated for
s eid ame nui•- ',
; ~......;.../... . ,• • ?. c $.:,,
!,•• row, ilftlititv , thiffitet , still .leostissee io
jaasshogairpellititids:of'workiti , his: lifts,
sit lbw shortest votiss, 'tilos old stand id
4domb laithumre lanie.tiliestsi arm*: orb
Oats tWahaiderlti ITisnlng Witabliahmest,
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MarchBl, 181110.' ~
. . .
ki.kik:Ude' OIiURUN HISTORY
..... 3 w eLlikineo romped of the
tory of taliatlketio 4ureh in the
U States, by ller. Dr. IlAzsure,preei•
14441 lielittitbii 'Sethi oiry, s3.'datol4,
"NlVOti: ll l l iii isle by •
/ iNiTi icyl ' ' " H. H. BUEHLER,
-91.21 . 11 Moo*" threb 17, 1818,
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.h' '''d PIOIIIMINI Elt 111 A Ilk.
"A '.; 14.RGE ilisortnieoi;-41- cheep as
.‘ "'ifike, Ibnablem-foat received and for
sali
'l l i 4 w I• 1 ' ' ' Is I ' J. 1,. MUHICK.
April", is-48. '
VIE LIP AND T/IX HEART. •
3T JINX It.. AMAX..
One dal between the Lip and Heart
A workflow strife mope,
Which was/m*OA In the art
His purpose to di/mime.
The lip celled forth the vassal Tongue,
And made hint vonch—a lie I
The slave his *revile anthem...nag,
And bray'd the listening sky.
The heart to speak in vain essay'd,
Nor could his purpose resch—
Ills will, nor voice, nor tongue obeyed,
His silence was his speech.
Murk thou their difference, child of earth,
While each performs his part,
Not all the lip can speak, le worth
The silence of the heart.
A BKETCII FROM
Bit °RAMC
"Throw op the window! 'Tie a morn fur life
In its most subtle luxury. The air
Is like-a breathing from a rarer world:-
And the south wind is like • gentle friend,
Parting the halt so softly on my brow.
It has eonwfover gardens, and'the flowers
That kissed it era betrayed ; for u it parts,
With itstinvisible fingers, my loose hair,
I know it has been trifling with the rose
And stooping to the violet. There i■ joy
for all I.tod'e virtues in it The wet leaves
Are stirring at its touch, and birds are singing
As if to breaths were music, and the grass
Sends up its modest odor with the dew
Like the small tribute of humility."
7 00 ' '
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The delicious morning which is glowing
around me, and which has recalled the ex
quisite description of ourgifted countryman,
brings also to my mind the recollection of
one as fresh and beautiful, "in the days
that are gone." I well remember how the
sense of that morn's exceeding , loylinesa..
burdened my heart with a sweet weight,
—and how, at last, flinging aside the dull
book which 1 had been attempting to study,
I caught up my light sun-bonnet, and
bounded out of the house, which outward
bloom and beauty had rendered prison-like.
I then turned my steps towards a fine old
mansion, the home of a very lovely girl,
who had been endeared to me by years of
constant and intimate intercourse. Of late
there had been formed a new tie to bind
our hearts—she had become the betrothed
of "one of ours," a favorite cousin, and
the engagement was a joyful event to all
concerned.
Annie Moore, sweet Annie Moore, how
thou glidest before me. in thy soft, etherial
loveliness. like a gentle spirit fitotn a holier
clime ! With thy form of lily-like grace,
tall and fragile,—
"With all thy young head's shining bands,
And all its waving curls of gold,"—
with thine eyes of softest violet, and thy
cheek of delicate rose-bloom.
7 00
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, 1 must think of thee
Oh gentlest! as I knew thec well and long,
A young, glad creature with a lip of song,
An eye of radiance, and a eaul of glee—
12 50
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11.1 00
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7 00
Singing sweet snatches of some favorite tune,
Or wandering by my side beneath the sky of i
William Gordon, the lover of Annie
Moore, was an exalted, yet a most loveable
character, an embodiment of intellect, man
liness, faithful affections, and fervent piety.
Ile was a young student of Divinity, had
been self-supported, almost self-educated,
and at the time of the commencement of
this sketch, was in the expectation of en
tering upon the ministry in the course of a
year.
And this man, poor, unknown, and de
voted to a holy calling, was the choice of
Annie Moore, the wealthy, the beautiful,
the luxuriously reared! "'Twas passing
strange"—our worldly ones wondered at
it, and our sewing circle gossipped about
the matter, for a month or two, and then
the ruffled tide of our village flowed on as
usual. But I was on my way to pay An
nie a morning visit. William Gordon had
called the night berore, to bid us adieu, as
he was to be absent for many months, and
,I thought his betrothed needed a little
cheering up.
1 found her sitting at her work, as usual,
and but a slight tretnulousness of the voice,
and a glistening of the long brown eye-lash
told of the painful parting which had just
taken place.
. - When will William return!" I present
ly inquired.
*ln May—little loss than one year."
10 00
10 00
7 00
7 00
10 00
10 00
10 00
7 00
7 00
7 00
7 00
"And then 1"
"And then we are to be married—so
hold'yourself in readiness to be any brides
maid.'
The en miner passed—a season of earn
est, untiring and prayerful toil, with the
young student, and of patient, hopeful, and
sustaining love, on the part of his betrothed.
Then came the chill of autilmn, followed
by a winter of uncommon severity. Our
dear Annie, while on a night visit to a dy
ing friend, was exposed to a sudden and fear
ful storm--took ,cold—ah, doe* not my
reader anticipate the mournful conseq mince?,
Her mother and elder sister had died of
consumption, and soon, very soon, the seal
of death was on her blue.veined brow, and, 1
the very voice of the grave sounding in 1
the hollow cough which, shook her fragile
frame. We knew that she must die,. and
the, unlike many consumptives, knew it
also ; yet she was strangely averse to ac
nnaiothigkiex absent lover with the fearful •
-
Utah.. She wrote, to •him that she had
been ill i —was still Inhering from debility,
but that he must not be troubled about it,
nor be painfully surprised by her changed
,appearance, when - he should return in the
spring. Not one word of the dread,' list
parting before' them-.-of the grave, which
might
"Ideal the bridegroom, and take hom his side,''
To maw In its bisern,his Yawing Wide." ,
. ,
At length May cadie'reditd igain, - uud,
with it returned Willie it 'Gordon; the yOung
clergyman. Vie was !timid to the earth'
by the
_great neliniked'fbiiifflictibi which
awaited hlre—yet Meekly drank hd the
bitter cop, for hie God had mingled lf:• "• "
Snipe% Annie was passing rapidly frtitn .
earth‘frowifig more alit more fragile!in
form, and angelic in spirit day bylday, end
poor William became intensely ensiling
that their union .might take plane.' 41.10.
Tate
nip's friends readily d, but she, to
btfr surprise, firmly iised.to grant the ,
mournful request, of er broken 'hamlet
lover. .
One evening , he
side, and also A
couch ; the hectic flush was more startling
bright than usual on her cheek, for she
had suffered much that day. and as he
thought how very near might be the dark
wing of God's dread angel, he took her
wasted hand in his, and said— , • •
"Oh. my Annie, let me call you wife,
before you leave me. You would not be
.so utterly lost to me then, for 1 would know
you bearing that sacred name in Heaven.
Refuse me not, love."
o.oh. William,William, urge me no
longer," she repied, "it must not, cannot
be. lam the bride of Heaven, you must
not be my husband ; hear me, dearest, you
must no longer be near me—your love is
precious, but it is earthly, and it comes as
a cloud between me and the glories of that
upper world. to which I -hasten. Your
getcl44‘weaojth.ew eater _So- _ the
hymns of the - angels, heard in my dreams
of Heaven! We must part, now—for
every hour renders you dearer, and how' can
I leave youatlast?!
With heroic and martyr-like firmness
spoke the mistaken girl—mistaken, for a
pure love for one worthy, is the holiest
and sweetest reparation for His presence
who "is love."
William Gordon saw her firmness, and
she was weak and trembling from the ex
citement of the scene, and
does heart shutting up his pain,"
resolved to yield instant and uncomplain
ing obedience to her wishes. He rose-up
calmly, and imprintihg on her forehead a
kiss-of mingled love and anguish, turned
and was gone I Annie buried her face in
her thin, white hands, and remained in an
agony of prayer and grief. Then came
vague regrets for the course she had taken,
and painful doubts of the necessity of •tha
sacrifice she had made. Presently she ,
heard a well-known step—William had re
: turned! His calmness had forsaken him,
1
and he murmured imploringly—
"lf I must leave you to die alone. An-1
nie, let me fold you once more to my heart
before 1 go—it will give me strength."
He knelt on one knee beside her, reach
ed forth his arms...and sobbed like a child,
while she leaned upon his bosom. .
No word was spoken by that pair, loving
j and faithful unto death, while the flood of
sorrow swept over their hushed spirits, as
if the fountains of the soul's great deep
were broken up. Yes, silent, but not tear
less, knelt William Gordon, with his lips
pressed against the dear hand that lay upon
his heart. At last he raised his eyes hea
venward and those lips moved in whisper
ed prayer—he unwound his arms and
would have risen, but Annie moved not—
she was dinging to his breast ! A smile
of joy irradiated his face, and his arms
once again enfolded her. She looked up
and murmured with something of her old
playful tenderness, more touching than time
wildest buret of grief:
"Are you not stronger, dear William ?"
h, I fear not, my love."
"This is strange, for when I felt the
strength ebbing from my own heart, I
thought it had flowed into yours."
"Thank God for the weakness which is
lovelier than strength ! I must never leave
you Annie."
.• Never 1"
The morning of the wedding day had
conic, and I was arraying Annie in her
bridal dress, a beautiful muslin, guiltless of
ribbon or lace. I wished to twine in her
• hair a small string of pearls, which was
once her mother's,—but she gently put it
from me.
"%Vhat, no ornaments ?" I inquired.
"None," she replied, "but ye a , if you
will go into my garden, you will find a
lovely wbite•rose tree, which William
planted when I first knew him,—bring me
one of its buds, and I will wear it in my
hair."
I have seen brides radiant in healthful
bloom— glittering in jewels—dazzling in
satins, rich veils and costly wreaths, but
never have I beheld one so exquisitely, so
wonderfully beautiful, as that dying girl,
with her dress of simple white, her one
floral ornament, the dewy lustre of her soft
blue eye, and the deepened hectic of her,
hectic cheek ! When the ceremony was
to be performed, she wished to rise, and
as she was too weak to stand alone, I stood
by her side, and supported her. She smiled
sadly as she,whispered—"You remember,
Grace, I promised you should be my brides
maid."
As the beautiful marriage ceremony,
(that of the English Church,) proceeded,
the face of the bride became expressive al
ternately of earthly and of heavenly..love,
of sottnesa and of sublimity, of ; the wojkan
and of the angel, till it grew absolutely 'a
dorable.
At the last, she received the tearful con
gratulations of her friends with a graceful
manner, and with the most cheerful smiles
playing about her lips.
It was morning—a morning born of
bloom and beauty—so soft, so glowing, it
seemed
"Like& rainbow duping the sweet earth,
And melting in a covenant of love."
Annie Gordon wee lying on her couch by
an open window, with her fair head sup
ported on . the, broastof her, husband.
Audihe, a father'sjoy, a mother's pride,
the wife of two short weeks, was , leaving
us now: 'Every sunbeam which 169ktid
into' her eyes, saw their violet hue grow
paler, and every soft air'which kissed her
faded lips, bore book a fainter breathrm its
light pinion. Herdoating father knelt in
&deep , trance of grief wt her side --4 stood
holding, one of het hands id mine, while at
her feet. sat b i er younger brother, Arthur
*toots weeping all the uncontrolled
Sif boyhood.; . . .
Annie had lain for some moments sppa.
reatly inetmeible,' but , she looked .up yet
Amore ld Wiliu m, with her own sweet
amge,, as mutolAred•
"POT oacit Vain my beloved-4-h will
plu mreptot wing for its upward
fight;.but place your hand upon my heart
that you may know when I am gone!
And William Gordon lifted his voice in
a prayer, all saint-like submission and a
ohild-like love. He solemnly and tenderly
committed the passing soul of the wife, the
daughter, the sister, and the friend of her
Saviour and her God, and meekly Implored
for the stricken mourners, the ministrations
as sitting •lone by her
as half reclining on a
GETTYSBURG, PA,. BRIDLY
, EYENIIiO I . APRIL' 21, 1848.
..FEARLF46B AND FREE."
of the blessed Spirit. ' Suddenly he paused
—her heart had al&Self its beatings! His
brow became convulsed and his voice was
low and tremulous, as he added, ..She has
left us ; oh ! Father, she is with Thee,
now !"
"Gone ! chir Annie dead!" exclaimed
poor liule Arthur. Moore, and springing
forward and casting one look on that still
face, he stretched - his arms upward and
cried;--“Oh sister, siater, come back to
us, come pack !"
We' arrayed herin herbridal dress, even
to the white rose-bud, twined in her golden
hair. We laid her to real by her mother's
side, in a lovely rural grave-yard, and a
few months after, Nook' her favorite rose
tree from the garden, and planted it over
her breast. f
• : Our Annie lied, latt,,tene from na
, year, and the rose was its first bloom,
when William Gord/ came to bid us a
long, it might be, a I adieu. He was
zoingsattat_a_lo,lnditt
the last evening of hicetay, I went with
him to the grave of our lost one. We re
mained till the grass will I/littering with
dew, and the stars were thick in heaven.
Many times turned poor William to depart,
and returned again. We both lied remark
ed a single rose-bud very like the one An
nie wore on her marriage day, and at that
second bridal, when she. was wedded to
the dust,—and when at, last William sum
moned strength to go, he_ Alueked this,,
placed it in his bosom, with many tears.
I doubt not that in his . distant home, that
darkened land, where he is toiling for
Christ's sake, that flower is still a cherish
ed memento of his sadly beautiful past, and
a touching reminder •of a shore to which
he hastened], and an unfadingglime where
ever liveth.the rose of love, in the bloom df
immortality in the sunlight of God's smile.'
1, too. am far from her grave, but I know
almost to a day, when that rose-tree is in
bloom. Every morning. I say, another
bud is unfolding over her rest—how it loads
the air with perfume, as it sways to the
passing breeze !—and at evening, how the
starlight trembles around it, and how sweet
ly sleeps the cool dew-drop in its glowing
heart !
ANECDOT6 Or JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.-
He always dared to do right, or what he
thought to be right. When minister at
the Netherlands,and comparatively ayouth,
he was invited to join the niersl ambas
sadors of different nations at that Court,
in a gathering for social enjoyment, in
which cheerful conversation, and gaming
for amusement, we believe, bore a part.
Once they adjourned to a Sabbath evening.
The time came, and the rnhassadors col
lected ; but the American Minister was
missing. It occasioned -inquiry and dis
appointment ; but presuming some special
or invincible object prevented his atten
dance, they said little of the circumstance,
and adjourned again to Sabbath evening.—
But the American ambassador did not at
tend. The next meeting was on a week
day evening, and the American was in his
place. They were glad to see him, and sig
nified their disappointment at his previous
absences. Instead of an apology or assign
' ing a fictitious reason, he frankly stated to
them, that his principles would not allow
lam thus to employ any part of the Sab
bath. He was born in a country settled
by Puritans, of Puritan parents, who re
garded the Sabbath as a divine ordinance.
Ile had witnessed the good influence of
its religious obseivanee in the greater intel
ligence, the pure morals, the energy, the
enterprise, and orderly habits of his coun
trymen. As a friend of his country, there
fore, he could not pervert the day, or use
it fur other purposes than those to which
he had been taught to devote it, and
seen it devoted—in whatever part of the
world he might be, or by whatever differ
ent customs surrounded !
Now, to those who know the "sneering"
character of most Sabbath-breakers, and
think of the age, high rank, and splendor
of those men, in connection with the youth
of Adams, it would be difficult to name an
instance of moral courage superior to this.
And, it completely overawed hie distin
ugished companions, and by instant and
general consent they met no more on Sab
bath evenings.
Thislnecdote we have not derived from
any written reminiscences of Mr. Adanis.
We received it from an American sense
years ago, who has few superiors as to his
knowledge of both the written and tradi
tional history of his country, and indeed
of the world, and of the characters who
have figured in it.—Chrialian Mirror.
RaPUTATION.-11 you have earned a
good reputation by virtuotra sets and hon
est deeds, let that reputation be kept bright.
If you lie still upon the strength of one or
two glorious achievements, you will lose
the honor you have gained, and at lest rust
out. Poor is,he who„etto
...... back only
on one bright spot in his careei, whlie dark
ness and indifference have settled like a
thick Mond upon his life: Let otahchieve
menu' over paasion, pride and error, lend
to other glorious accomplishments. Ave
ally good man is never stationery. 'The
past is but an incentive to the future.. , He
yet hophe to win more lanrels,and pirforen
more (Orions deedt. 'Howtrueie the
page of—we forget who—but tine Who
spoke the words of troth •
The reputation
Of virtuous scliorill*"o4 -4011 b* "P ,
By an accost; sod fresh rawly of OM one.,
For *alit of habluition said IMO;
Dissolves to Wisps of rola.'
There are thousands who if they lied
died in earlyiife. would ,have le ft behind
them an unit:lllW reeutalltd
on. nainer Thef hadbitilt the WO!,
theirrenevortion tdo feeble r - aililitiiidittkin;
or tberstere riedvost by saibffibil gild I
rained. Had Arnold dietkbefore ihe
render of .Cornwidlis, marrteivotikl have
shOwn brightly on the fpage•of histOry,-4
Had - Cromwell fallen by the aide of John
Hampden. would not the bare name send
a thrill of pleasure . through the bosom ?
Though Cromwell cued through ambition
and power, he was not the worst tyrant
who eat upon England's throne.
Let your reputation be kept, bright—
lose not what you have gainedby a single
misdeed : but persevece in the path of vir
tue and honor.
EXECUTION, OF LOlll5 XVI , is hdd to thy charge,. I pardon the au-
All out mailers are MO» os lalliwailhur with thong thydeath, and pray God that my
the bloody WOOS of the French Idevolution, and blood may never rest on France." He
doubtless will be interested in thefollowhis sketch Would have said more, but as his next
from that awfial drama 2 • words, "and you unhappy people," were
"On the 15th of January, -the Obnveit- uttered, Bantams forced the drums to beat
Lion proceeded to vote what the ;main-
end drown hisvoice In a moment the
ment should be, death .or baniihreeht.,—. exeelltbonere seized dm their victim, he
g ver y member a d vance d s l e e t ae, the i r,- wall somyv unuer the _axe, then came the
buns, an d o p en ly gave hi e Toter. F er it n i, dank of the fallen iron, and the deed was
ty hours the voting contieried, fknis ,
time the galleries were crow.ditd, Metier of ,
the Assembly besieged . with 'deputations,
and the Jacobin club maintaining the
chement by continued inflarnatory bar
rangues. As etched the morecelebrated de
puties proceeded to give hie vote, the Internet,
was absorbing.; but when Orleans (Louts
Phillippe's father) tottered to the appointed'
..plaes,,w4th ilice..pale as death.-11.11.1100*
perfectly . awful pervaded the hall.• "Ex-,
elusively governed by duty. ' said the -un-'
happy Man, "and convinced that those ;
who haVe-reciated the-sovereignty of she
y
:people•deserve death, m vote is death." 1
A,nother breathless silence succeeded the
conclusion of the 'voting.
"Citizens," at length said Verginand,
the President, "I announce the, result Of
the vote—there are 721 votes ; a majority
of 26 have voted for death. In the name
of the Convention, I declare that die pun
, ishment of Louis Capet is death." Perat- 1
ized at the very , unexpected
Which had been occasioned, by the seces
sion of their own . party, the Girondimis
made but one more struggle, and that was
for a delay in the execution of the sentence.
The vote had made their opponents too
strong for them, and their last propositibn
was negatived by two-thirds of the depu
ties. Fully prepared for his fate, the King
received the result oldie vote with unsha
ken firmness. "For two hours," said he,
"Malesherbes, I have been revolving, in
my memory whether, during my whole
reign, I have voluntarily
. givett any 'cause
of complaint to my sobjects ; with perfect
sincerity I can declare, whets about to ap
pear before the throne of God, that I de
serve no reproach at their hands, and that
I never formed a wish but fur their happi=
nese."
On the 20th of January, Santarre. with
a deputation of the mbnicipals, read the
sentence to Louis. Ile received it with
the same firmness as before, and•esketl
respite of three days to prepare for death,
the solace of an interview with his family,
the consolationsof a priest, The enliven.,
Lion would not accede to the request for a
respite ; the hour of ten on the following
morning was irrevocably fixed fur the ex
ecution; the other demands they granted.
From that time the King seemed resigned,
and tranquil. "Did ,they suppose I could
be base enough to kill myself 1' said Lou
is, when they removed the knives at din
ner, "I am innocent, and can die without
apprehension." At half-past eight in the
evening, the Queen and her children enter
ed the King's department, The 'Cones
that ensued during those two hours, the
two last hours of their united lives, cannot
be described. At ten the King rose, the
parents blessed their poor son, and sought
to separate for the night. "I will see you.
to-morrow in the morning at eight o'clock,"
said the King, as his childrenclung around
him, with tears and shrieks. "Wh.-not
seven 1" exclaimed they all. "Well, then,
seven—at seven—adieu !"
So mournful was the accent with OM
Louis uttered these words, that the Lehild
reit redoubled. their lamentations.; and the
Princess Royal fell fainting at her father's
feet.. With quo tender embrace to each
beloved one, the. King tore himself from
his agonized family. The rest of the eve-
ning was devoted to his confessor, the Ab
be Edgeworth. that heroic priest who dared
to offer the last office of religion to his• King.
At midnight the King retired to bed, and
slept peacefully until five. At that hour
he rose, gave his last instructions to his.
faithful valet, Clary, entrusted him with
his last words to his wife and children,
and the few relies lie had to diatribete a
mongst them. Ile wished 'to cut otr hit
hair with his own hands, and thus escape
the degradation of that 'operation on the
scaffold ; but the guards refused his re.
quest. They feared lief-would use the
scissors for his own destruction, for they
could not believe that the mild end meelt.;.
minded'King' could dare to die on the scaf
fold.
Louis then received the sacrament, at a
small altar prepared in his chamber, and
heard be last service for the dead, while
the noise of the people thronging the streets,
and the rolling of thedrurne announced the
preparations for the execution. At nine;
Santarre came to the Temple. "'You come
to seek me," said the King. As he *aid
this he entered his little chatnber; and
brought out hie last will, which be asked
Santarreto take • ; the creature refused, and
the Kingdeposited it in the halide Of one
of the municipals who Had aceemPanled,
him. Poe tire hours ' the long,proetlesion '
was dragging its way through the street*
of. Paris, every where hemmed and hedged
in with an imposing. military force, that.
rendered every stempt at s.rescue fruits'
less. At last the carriage ,stopped.at spot
between the garden* Of the Tailleriss and
the Champ Elystees.
The palace was lined, with ;cannon, and.
, the•crowd reached as far • as the eye ovoid
seeont every side:. "This is the 011414:11
it .not.? " whisrotred'Louis.•mills tents.-
aor, and then, with en air of the:wog per ,
`feek self-possestneM; descended front,• the
carriage and undressed himself witboutthe
aid of his executioners. The ruertitp.
preached to pinion his arm*. A mornen
'Cary anger seised him as he exclaimed,--
"NO; I Will not submit to that." The ex
etuftioners called for aid, and were about,
to ties force. "Elubmit to this outrage,"
said Edgeworth, "as the last yesemblanee
to that• Savior who is about to reward your
sufferings." Louis yielded and walked
composedly to the foot of the scaffold.—
As the King mounted the steps he receiv
ed the benediction of his confessor: "Son
of Saint Louis, ascend to Heaven,"
Advancing to the edge of the eeaffold.
the King silenced the drummers that were
placed there to prevent his word' from be
ing heard, and rpoke these last sentences
to the people:, "1 die innocent of all that
Pauxreraz. Thrrx.—The father who ,
*ogee iato business so deeply that he has '
no leisure for domestic duties and pleasures,
and whose only intercourse with his chil
draft consists in a brief'and occasional word
of authoriti, or a surly lamentation over
their intolerable expensiveness, is equally
to be pitied and to be blamed. What right
has he *demo to other pursuits the time
which God has allotted to his children ?
Nor is it any excuse to say that he cannot
support his family in their present style of' ,
Aring.without this effort, ask, by what
right can his family demand to live in a
manner which requires him to neglect his ,
most saloon and important duties ? Nor
is it an excuse to say that he wishes to
leave them' a cOmpetence. Is he under
obligation. to-leave them that competence
which he desiretfl Is it an ads:mine to
them to be relieved from the necessity of
labor ? Besides,' is Malley the only de
sirable bequest which father can leave
to them 1 zBttiely well cultirated intellects,
hearts sensible to domestic affection, the
love.3p're, - . .ind a„,l ;
a taste f or home pleasures ; habits of order,
regularity, and industry a hewed of vice
and vicious melt' ; and a lively sensibility
to the excellence of virtue—are as veina l .
ble a legacy vela inheritance of Property
—einiple property, purchased loss
of every habit,w,hinlipoulaxericler that lint
perty a "Arising.
,
Evrt. !lieu:once "FAittlinkr.Never.
yet watt a Utittnitn litany , itn - provikt in
tractlogh/atinglink with thliinoddy throng
of beau monde." dinette
better. to step more g'ricefulff, her head
may assume a More artlcefal turn; lier'-con•
versation' bitiome more polished,' her air
more distinguiihed--but to lftifiitOfaltrac-
Lien she acquires `nothing. flee
ty - ofmind,depthergehetrotis'coilliatag
impulses orchrit*ter' are nbr
longer inclined to interpret Parvornblylof
men and things; she listens ;Wftliont
lieving—sees without tidmiriogfise inn'
fßred"persecution - Withoutiearoing Mercy .
—and taught to mistrOit die'eandor of bitt
ers by the forfeiture of 'her'-ooh,
freshness of her disposition Psi vatiiihed
with the freshnese Of her completion—L.
hard lines are perceptible - in Werfsont
—and crow's feet attract ber_ve*Atbc , F r ''.
No longer pitre and fair'ethe statue or a.
labasterL--her beiuty,like that of itt:tare wtiVr,
ea effigy is tawdry and ineretriclotts. It
is not alone the rouge upon her forehead;
which repel! the ardor cif admlration—it
the artificiality of mind with which Mich'
efforts are connected that breaks the spell
of beauty,
TRUE INDOENDEricr..- 800 n after ins
establishment' in Philadelphia, Franklin'
was offered it piece for publication in hie
newspaper. Being vet'y, busy, be begged
the gentlethan would leave it for'cotitilder.
ation. The next day the author called,
and asked his opinion of it. "Why sir,"
replied Franklin, "I am sorry to say that
I thinit it highlyscitirilonit and trefaiiiitery.
But being at a lose, on account of mypov
erty, whether to reject it or not:lthought
I would put it to this isitreat nigh t When
iny work was done, - I bought a:t oftenti) ,
loaf, on which with a Moigor water II *ip
ped heartily, and'then wrapping , myself in .
my great cdat , slept eery soundly On the
floor till morning ; when another learned'
a mug of water afforded rhe plesiant
brekfatt.—Now, air, since I can live very
comfortably in this manlier, why should I
prostitute my prese to personal'hatted,
party passion for a more luxurious lit
ink{ ?"'
•
•
INDIAN LIONIiiTv.-4111 Indian hainga 4
mong hie white.neighbors, asked fdc's
tle tobacco to smoke, and one of them, has . -
hig some loose in his poeket4ave him
handful. The day following. the Indian
came back. inquiring for the donor, laying: .
he had found-a - qpirternof a 'dollar among
the tobacco; being told that as it.wartgiS ,
en him. he might., es, well• keep it,•he an.'
sweredi pointing 4 to his breast : got a
good man and bad man here 4' , and the
good man say, it is not ink*. I .mastte
turn it to die oWber ; the had man say,
why, he gave it to you, and it is your owr
now ; the good aran stiy that not right, the
tobacco is yoursotet the money ; , tke;bad
man say, , nese r ,Tb lad iyOU" got it, bny
some dram ;, this good 'men say, nts, •tic;
you mnst notdo so t so Idotet ktirtiV;whit'
to do, and I.think to go to sleep; 'bet thiv
good Man : aid 'the** ininAtep , mlking
all nighyand troy* me+ so noir I•bring
the moneY„hackt,ll44goedt"
irturfidlowing liees, by inie' of the -di t ys'in
the arnalorrore *Mulls upon the envelop* of a let.
ter received by a friend in this place. There's ,
.mode - in tbsrq.;
dewed is now un•
The *Mg is Still flying for all to be on board ;
I To-morrow is our asilingday and Z mud haste to go.
, To displafoisr country', standanton the plains of
Mozium."
"Oh;Wllliatn, do not ven'ture there and leave me
here Mona,
For you khow that your Igo to me la dearer than
nay own;
While thousands ef our yoringinen are insigne fur
' togo,
To display our coypu) 's standard on gut:
plains of,
' Mexico." '•
"You must remember, 14 81 411 8 4 it is honor cells
me now,,
The citizen forsakes hie work, the farmer leaves his
plough; • , ,
And Freedom's sons are all in arms, to show the
haughty foe
That we value not their armies on the plains of
Mexico."
Success attend each noble heal* each gallant vol.
unteer,
That fraelY leiVer his fathart4endAnd sll be hok
meet dear,
To embrace tha danger* of am deip. 4 lo OPPIa
'against the foe, •
And sore the Sir of Texas frem the
' gnla of
, Mexico.
TWO DOLLARS 1 AM‘Ule" 44
. , f. 40110:
INEW
Mr. clay and the Presideneic
Prom the Lexington Observer:
TO THE PUBLIC. •
The various and con icting re ports which
have been in circulation in regard to MY
intentions with respect to the neXt'Presl
dency, appear t. me to furnish silrreper
occasion for a full, frank and explicit expti-
Aden of my feelings, wishes and views up
on that subject, which it is now my OW"-
pose to make.
With a strong disinclination to' the`iiirX
of my-name again in connection serjtft
that office, I left my residence in Peceeilt
ber last, under a determination Mannish*.
to the public in some suitable form My' diet
sire not to be thought of as a candideil.
During my absence I frequently.'expteit
bed to different gentlemen rhy
ugivilllrig
ness to'be again in that ittitilde't
no one was authorized to publish my', de
cision one way or the other, having reset"-
ved the right to do so exclusively to" mY'-
self, on reflection, I thought it-was d'ne w -
my friends to consult with them before 1
took a decisive and final step.
Accordingly, within the course of tl
last three womb I have had opportuudil•
lof conferring fully and freely with thin; ,•
Many of them have addressed to Me di l e
strongest appeals and the moot earnest CO-
I treaties, both verbally and written, 'to
Ai -
suade me from executing my intended pee
pose. They represented to me that di—
withdrawal of my name Would he fatal
the seeress, and perhaps lead to the (160-
r hada of the party with which I have Veil;
asseeiated, and especially in the free State
I that at no former period did there ever
hit so great a probability of my election )1
I would consent to the use of my name
that the great States of New York and' O
hio would in all probability cast their ,soteA '
ft;r me, that New York would mere' cer ;
tainly bestow her suffrage upon me than
'any other candidate', and that Ohio would
give her vote to no candidate residing iii•
AO' slave stews but to me ; that 'there is
better 'prospect than has heretofore at any
;thine existed,. that Pennsylvania would u
nite whhAliem . ; that no candidate can be
elected Without the concurrence of two of
these three states, and none could be de 7 . -
famed upon, whom all of these should he u
nited, that greet numbers of our fellow cit , :
izens; both of native and foreign birth who
Wire ileeeived, and therefore voted againet
pie niche last election, are now eager for
an oppprtuniiyof bestowing their suffragei
irportMe, and that whilst there is a strong
I and detided preference for mit entertained
by thelreat body of the vvhig party through-,
out. the United . States, they (the fried&
Ito who'd I refer) at the same time are con-
itirticiethatt Mom, available than' any
lerddidttelhat rehld Ini presented to' the . A 1
meileinipetple. Ido not pretend to vouch :
for the itecuracy of all these representations,
althoUglt I do net entertain a doubt that
they' have been' honestly,m ade, and are sinr
Inertly:believed.'
I It has been; rrietreoVer, urged to me that
the great Obligations under which I have
been Pdtfiei=fb placed by a large portion of
theepeople of the United States, the fail
forced Which'no one can be More eensi-
We'd Tkattilit,dentand that I should not:
Withhtild the title of niy name' if it should
Irequested: And•l have bsen reminded of
frequent declarations which I have made,
I that'Vhilet life and health remain, a man
.bound tarendef his belt services utien 4 .
thecalliifltta country:
Sitiee'MY 'return - Paine, I have anxious=
Irilelibianiredliptuliurduty to myifelf;
my - pilriciPleC to' my friends, and abov:el
airy to' my poutni3i: The c.ontlict between'
' Mylinaffeeted desire to continue in prtvatei
life aro 'ettietentigenlal with iny feelings aiid
stint My wish faithfully to per-„
fife& ell MY Ohne. duties, has been painlut
and embarrassing. If I refuse the use of
my 'name and those ` injurious enitsequeit-.
ceartheuld skneue, which have been so con
fidently predieted by my friends, I shoulit.
justly incur their reproaches, and the re- '
Iproinlies of my' ownheartt and if, on the':
contrary, I should assent to the use of niy
Marne: whatever the result may be, I shalt
escape both. . : , .
I. , :havertherefore.tinally decided to leave
to the:National Convention, which is tit
''assemble in lunar the consideration of my'
name, in connection . 'with seek' other as
may; be presented to it, to make a seterition '
!Cifra,suitsble candidate for Presideot of the
[ tinitedfititteir, and whatever linty' be:the'
listens of its fair and full deliberations, it
Hill Meet with .my prompt and "cheerful . '
aoqWerfeence. • . •
-Itseilibeffeeni from what I hitve Mated,
that>there was reason to anticipate that I
I would decline giving my-oonsent to the use'
lof my name again as a candidate for the"
IPrestdencrof the United States. &king
perhaps,to this, its well as other causes; - '
Linlitly.iP ifriends and fellow citizens
have avowed a preference for, and dirieted.l
o l ar atOntion to, ,the distinguished names
of other.citizens of the United States. Ir
take pleasure in truly declaring that! haver
'no regrets to express, no complaints, no
reproaches to make on account of any •such
preferences, which, I am fully' pursuadelthl
are generally founded on honest and fart*. •
otic convictions. 11. CLAY,. •,•
ASHLAND, .10th April, 1848;
FIFTU DE.rATCII OF MAJ. now p*:
CITY. op /Oleic°, Mara 22, 1848
MR. GALICS & SgATON
Illy dear oltlfriendsl—When 1 have to
wtite about the war, and the treaty, and "
things of that sort that belongs to diplocmite
ice, of course I send my despatchet to the '
President or Mr. Riehie ; bet when things
breach elf into the newspaper line, thela.l
send 'am to you. We've had Ginera
Scout*, trial here live days, for his treason '
ttiainst Gineral Pillow and Gineral Worth.
It it goes agin him I don't know whether
they will conclude to hang him or abet US' to
Up in some of the mines of Mexico for life.
But he fights like n Turk, and siet sheeted
at nothin., The President better tend_
some more help, for 1 stint sure that Iftflr';
there is here will be able to ha slt •
The beta has, been pretty% 01 kr . gm al
days, and 1 dote( Deo is Omer gietttaa 10 1 0 9,r' + ,
bad of him atallwet. hopipitipars svisiko'
'pity if a man that has Wee 'Witter 101111 `, l
horrible crimes as he has oat here in Moro
44-bn