IT D. A. dr. C. H. BUEHLER
VOLUME XXILI
The Irish gmlgrant 9 a Lament.
BY MRS. BLACKWOOD
I'm sitting on the style, Mary,
Where we eat side by side,
fins bright May morning long ago,
When you were first my bride ;
Thereorn was springing fresh and green,
And the lark sang loud and high,
And the red was so your lip, Mary,
And the loyedight in your eye.
Tist plant in little changed, Mary,
The day is bright as then—
The lark's loud song is in my ear,
And disown is green again;
But I mire the soft clasp of your hand,
And your briath warm on my cheek,
And Estill keep Ilat'ning for the words
rev the words you never more may speak.
'Tie but a step down yonder lane,
And the liule church stands neer—
Tbe char& where we were wed, Mary,
I see the spire from here ;
But the grave•yanl lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest,
For I've laid you, darling, down to sleep,
With your baby on your breast.
I'm very lonely, now, Mary,
For the poor make no new friends ;
But oh, they leve the better still,
The few our Father sends.
And you were all I had, Mary,
My blessing and my pride—
T here's nothing left to rare for now,
Since my poor Mary died.
Your's was the brave good heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on,
When the trust in God had leR my soul,
And my arm's young strength had gone ;
There MU comfort ever on your lip,
And the kind look on your brow—
I bless you, Mary, for that mama
Though you can't hear me now.
I thank you for the patient smile,
When •out..isart wu fit to break.
When the hunier•pain was gnawing there,
And you hid it for my sake ;
I bless you for the pleasant word,
When your heart was sad and sore—
Oh ! I'm thankful you are gone. Mary,
Where grief can't reach you more.
I'm bidding you a long farewell,
My Mary—kind and true !
But I II not beget you. d ding,
In the land I'm going to.
They say there's breed and work for all,
And the sun shines always there,
But I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair !
And often in those grand old woods
I II sit, and ■hut my eyes.
And my limit will travel b u lk aga in
To the place where Mary lies :
And I'll think I see the Mule stile.
Where ne sat side by side,
And the springing corn and bright May morn,
Wben first you were my bride.
THE AMERICAN ALTAR
OF 185/.
BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
The setting sun of achill December light
ed up the solitary front window of a small
tenement on street, which we now
have occasion to visit. As we push gently
aside the open door, we gain sight of a small
room, dews as busy hands can make it,
where a neat, cheerful, young mulatto wo
man is busy at 1111 ironing table; a basket
full of glossy-bosomed shirts and faultless
collars and wristbands is beside her, into
which she is placing the last few items with
evident pride and satisfaction. A bright,
black-eyed boy, just come in front school,
with his satchel of books over his should
ers, stands, cap in hand, relating to his
mother how ho has been at the head of his
class, and showinghia school ticket, which
his mother, with untiring admiration, de
posits in the little red china tea-pot—which,
as being their most reliable article of gen
tility, is made the deposit of all the money
and most especial valuables of the family.
"Now, Henry," says the mother, "look
and see if father is coming along the street,"
and she begins filling the little black tea
kettle, which is soon singing on the stove.
From the inner room now daughter Mary,
a well grown girl of thirteen, brings the
baby just roused front a nap, and very im
patient to renew his acquaintance with his
1111/11M1011.
"Bless his bright eyes—mother will
tike him," ejaculates the little woman,
whose hands are by this time in a very
floury condition, in the incipient stages of
wetting up biscuit—"in a minute," and
she quickly frees herself from the flour and
paste, and deputing Mary to roll out her
biscuit, proceeds to the oonaolation and suc
cor of young master.
"Now, Henry," says the mother, "you'll
Lave time before supper, to take that bask
et of elethes to Mr. Seeldin's. Put in that
nice bill-yon made out last night. I will
give you a cent for every bill you make
out for me. What a winfort it is for one's
children to be gettin' leamin' so."
Henry shouldered the basket, and pass
out the door just as a neatly dressed color
ed man, alked up with his pail and white
wash brushes..
‘ 4 oh, ritere'domb o father, have you f—
fittary„'are the bieettita in ?—you may as well
vot the table now. Well, George, what's
the news ?"
" Nothinr, only s pretty smart day's
trbrh rvo brouglithome five dollirs—and
61/silt have as much as I can do these two
.weeks;' mid the man having washed his
bands, proceeded to count out his change
on the ironing table.
• • 1 1Well i tlAy do iskr—those that's luadme
odoe-4kat Ahoy never want any other hand
1 10 tik'whbithr ere* robins. I 'spore We
nicindik iniethid rye got, and kinder nat.
. ,
• nal ye what,". sild the little women,
teling4e*:thslamily strung box—to wit
tile,',ehilist • teal*, *tie vientiontaland
patiibig out the magenta on the table,
"we're getting mighty rich now ! We can
'ford to get Henry his new Sunday cap and
Mary her mousaelin-de-lane dress ; take
care, baby, you rogue 1" she hastily inter
posed, as young master made a sudden dive
at a dollar bill for his share of the pro
mo&
"He wants somethin', too, I 'spose," said
the father : "let him get his hand in while
he is young."
The baby gased round, with astonished
eye, while the mother, with some difficulty,
rescued the bill from his grasp ; but before
any one could at all anticipate his purpose,
he dashed in among the small change with
such seal as to send it flying all over the
table.
"Hurrah l—bub's a smasher !" said the
father, delighted ; "he'll make it fly, he
thinks," and taking the baby on his knee,
ho laughed merrily, as Mary and her moth
er pursued the rolling coin all over the
floor.
"He knows now, as well as can be, that
he's been doing mischief I" said the de
lighted mother, as the baby kicked and
crowed uproariously—"he's such a forward
child to be only six months old I—oh 1 you
have no idea, father, how mischievous he
grows," and therewith that little woman
began to roll and tumble the little mischief
maker about, uttering divers very frightful
threats, which appeared to contribute in
no small degree to the general hilarity.
"Come, come, Mary," said the mother
at last, with a sudden buret of recollection,
"you mustn't always be on your knees fool
ing with this child—look in the oven at
them biscuits."
They are done exactly, mother, just the
brown—and with the word, mother dumped
the baby on its father's kuec, where he sat
contentedly clumping a very ancient crust
of bread, occasionally improving the flavor
thereof by rubbing it on his father's coat
sleeve.
"What have you got in that blue dish ?"
said George, when the whole little circle
were seated around the table.
Well now, what do you 'spore 7" said
the little woman, delighted ; "a quart of
nice oysters---just for a treat, you know—
I wouldn't tell you till this minuute," said
she, raising the cover.
"Well," said George, "we both work
for our money, and we don' owe any body
a cent, and why should we have our treats
now and then, as well as rich folks F"
And gaily passed the supper hour ; the
tea-kettle sung ; the baby crowed, and all
chatted and laughed joyously.
"I'll tell you," said George, wiping his
mouth; wife, these times are quite another
thing from what it used to be down in Geor
gia; I remember then, old master used to
hire me out by the year, and one time I
remember, 1 came and paid him two hun
dred dollars---every cent I'd taken. Ile
just looked it over, counted it, put it in
his pocket, and said, "you are a good boy,
George" and he gave me half a dollar.
"I want to know," said his wife.
"Yes ho did, and that was all I ever got
for it : and I tell you I was mighty bad off
for clothes them times."
"Well, well ; the Lord be praised, thef'ie
over, and you are in a free country, now,"
said the wife, as she rose thoughtfully from
the table, and brought her husband the
great Bible. The little circle were ranged
round the stove for evening prayers.
"Henry, my boy, you must read ; you
are a better readeNhan your father ; thank
God that you learn early."
The boy with cheerful readiness read :
"The Lord is my shepherd,"—and the moth
er gently hushed the noisy babe to listen
to the holy words. Then all kneeled while
the father in simple earnestness poured out
his soul to God.
They had but just risen; the words of
Christian hope and trust had scarce died on
their lips, when lo ! the door was burst
open, and two man entered ; and one of them
advancing, laid his hand on the Lather's
shoulder. "This is the fellow," said he.
"You are arrested in the name of the
United States," said the other.
"Gentlemen, what is this ?" said the
poor man, trembling.
"Are you not the property of Mr. B. of
Georgia ?" said the officer.
"Gentlemen, I've been a free, hard-work
ing man these ten years.
"Yes ; but you are arrested' on snit of
Mr. B. as his slave.
Shall we describe the leave-taking ; the
sorrowing wife ; the dismayed children ;
the tears ; the anguish ;—that simple,
honest, kindly home, in a moment so de
solated I The reader can imagine all I
It was a crowded courtroom, and the
man stood there to be tried—for life ?—no;
bat tbr the life of life—for liberty ?
Lawyers hurried to eud fro; bussing,
consulting, bringing authorities—all &az
imut, zealously engaged—for what T—to
save a fellow man from bondage ?—no
antions &ad melons lest he might escape—
full of seal to deliver him over to Slavery.
The poor man's anxious eye* follow vainly
the busy ecticoeof &Sin thrum which he
dimly learnt ; that he is to be scritled--en
the altar of the Union ; .ind that, his heart
break and anguish and the tears' of his
wife, and the desolation of his children,
are, in the eyes of those well informed men,
GETTYSBURG, PA. FRIDAY EVENING, NOVEMBER 7, 1851.
only the bleat of a sacrifice, bound to the
horns of the glorious American altar.
* •
Again, it is a bright day, and business
walks brisk in the market. Senator and
statesman, the learned and patriotic, are
out this day, to give countenance to the
edifying and impressive, and truly Ameri
can spectacle—the sale of a man ! All the
preliminaries of the scene are there—dusky
brewed mothers, looking with sad eyes,
while speculators are turning round the
children, looking at their teeth, and feel
ing of their arms ; a poor trembling man,
helpless, half blind, whose last child is to
be sold, holds on to her bright boy with
trembling hands ; husbands and wives—
sisters and friends, all soon to be scattered
like the chaff of the threshing floor, look
sadly on each other with poor nature's last
tears—and among them walk briskly, glib,
oily politicians, and thriving men of law,
lettere and, religion, exceedingly sprightly
and in good spirits, for why T—it isn' they
that are going to be sold, it's somebody
else ; and so they are very comfortable, and
look upon the whole thing as quite a mat
ter of course affair; and as it is to be con
ducted to-day, a decidedly valuable and ju
dicious exh ibition.
And now, after so many hearts and souls
have been knocked and thumped this way
and that way by the auctioneer's hammer,
comes the instructive part of the whole ;
the husband, and father whom we saw
in his simple home — reading and praying
with his children, and rejoicing in the joy
of his poor ignorant heart, that ho lived in
a free country, is now set up to be admon
ished of his mistake.
Now there is a great excitement, and
pressing to see, and exultation, and appro
priation, for it is important and interesting
to see a inan put down that has tried to be
a free man.
" That'n he, in it? couldn't come it,
could he ?" says one.
"No, and he never will come it, that's
more," says another, triumphantly.
"I don't generally take much interest in
scenes of this nature, but I came here to
day for the sake of the principle."
"( ;entlemen," says the auctioneer, "we've
got a specimen here that some of the Nor
thern abolitionists, would give any price for;
but they shan't have him ! no, gentlemen,
we've looked out for that. The man that
buys him must give bonds never to sell
him to go North again."
"Go it !" shout the crowd—"good, good,
hurrah !" "Au impressive idea," says a
Senator, "a noble maintaining of princi
ple !" and the man is bid off, and the ham
mer falls with a last crush on his heart, and
hopes, and manhood, and he lies a bleeding
wreck on the altar of—LIBERTY !
Such is the altar of America in 1851.
THE LAST TRIUMPH or PRIDE.-- .. Pro.
teus," of the Newark Daily Advertiser, in
a letter from New York, says The
wife of a man of means, and the daughter
of a wealthy citizen of this city—people
too fond of show—recently died. She
had been called beautiful before a family
of children had gathered round her, and
she had not renounced her claim to that
tide. She died, and a large concourse
was invited to the funeral. The coffin
was made of rosewood, inlaid with silver
and lined with plaited satin. The whole
top was removed, and the deceased lay in
state in her narrow home. She was dress
ed in a white merino robe, made like a
morning gown, faced withwhite satin, pro
fusely quilted and ornamented. The
sleeves were open, similarly lined and
wrought—a stomacher of the richest em
broidery covered the breast, whence all
life had forever fled. The head was
crowned with a cap of choice lace, and a
wreath of fresh flowers arranged around.
The hands were crossed upon the breast,
with the fingers covered with expensive
jewelry, which seemed to sparkle, as i f in
glad pride that the eye was dim forever.
Thus bedizened, poor food for worms, she
went down into the grave, there to meet
her God."
DAKOTAN?. SPORT.—The N. York Trib
une says, that two young gentlemen were
a lbw evenings since trying the strength
of their arms by duping the right hand
of each and resting the elbow on the coun
ter, and then trying each to force the hand
of the other down. In the struggle, the
arm of one was broken short off above the
elbow, causing a report loud enough to be
heard from one extreme of the saloon to
the other.
House DBSTROYBD BY 411411TBOR.—The
English papers received by the steamer
America, state that a house in Westmins
ter street, London, belonging to a carver
and guilder, was set on fire and nearly de
stroyed by a meteor, which deleettded up
on the roof in the shape of a ball of fire.
prThe removal of the Crystal Pal
ace from its position in Hyde Park has al
ready commenced. It is to be reconstruct
ed in the new Batterion Park, about two
miles from its present location, where it
will be used as a winter garden. The
weight of iron of which it is compored is
four thousand tons, and the quantity of
glass used is 800,000 superficial feet. The
total cubic contents of the building are
thirty-three millions feet. The space
which it occupied wi.l be marked, after its
removal, by four granite monutnents, pls•
eieliaNpoinuo indicating the position of the
miles dills building.
A, tanks* chap, speaking of his swoothsort, lays
Her Asir is Of a rich dark brown.
Clendleiristser
Her cheeks on soft os enrost's down,
Her lips like pumpkin•pis.
“FEARLEBB AND FREE.'
ESCAPE OF MADAM KOSSVTD.
AN AUTIL6NTIO NAIRATIVE
During the month of August, 1848, the
President Governor of Hungary, Louis
Kossuth. with the principal officers of his
provisional government, were in the town
of Arad, on the river !Warmth. Between
that place and the town of Regadin, on the
Tisch, in the vicinity of Arad, Georgey,
with the Hungarian troopsat his command,
lay encamped ; while behind him, towards
the Tisch, was the Russian army of re.
serve, under Paskiewitch. Dembinski and
his men berieged Temeswar, and he had
already carried its third wall. Between
him and the Tisch lay the united Austria.
Russian forces. The army of Rem had
been defeated at Hermanstadt by the Rue.
sian General Luders, and he had fled with
a small band of faithful followers toward
Temeswar.
With this position of the combatants,
the plan of Dembinski was to unite with
Georgey near Arad, and then to attack the
Russian forces. Before this was effected,
news reached him of the capitulation of
Georgey, and that the Governor, M. Kos
suth, had been compelled to forsake Arad,
and compelled to retire to the town of Vil
lagos. Before leaving Arad, the Governor
separated from his wife and children, and
their parting scene is said to have been one
of the. most touching nature. Under the
circumstances of the moment, it was a sub•
ject of more even than doubt whether they
would ever meet again on earth. It was
only when a young Hungarian nobleman, I
named Ashbot, now in exile in Kutayieh I
with M. Kossuth, solemnly swore to
his wife that he would never leave her'
husband, that Madame Kessuth would'
consent to be separated from him, and seek
safety in flight. The children were confi
ded to the care of a private secretary of the,
Governor, and this individual subsequent
ly delivered them up to the tender mercies
of Haynau, for the purpose of securing his
own pardon and safety. The children set
out before their mother, and the latter, in
her flight, endeavored to keep at least so
near to them as to hear now and then of
their safety.
Madame Kossuth sought out a brother
of hers residing in , the town of Villages.
and he is now imprisoned in the fortress
of Comoro, with many others of the unfor
tunate Hungarian patriots, for eighteen
years, on account of the succor which lie
then gave to his sister. Leaving him, she
next went in search of her children, and
wandered to a posila, or form-house,
Boeksak, belonging to a relative. There
she fell ill of a typhus fever, which nearly
ended her lift; and 4 when so far recovered
as to be able again to travel, she continued
her journey in search of her children.—
She soon learned that they had been given
up by their protector to the Austrian Gen
eral Haynau, and taken to Pesth. Her
own safety depended wholly upon the
fidel
ity of the Hungarian peasants, and on their
attachment to her husband.
Now, having no other object in view
than her own safety, without friends better
off than herself, she soon became reduced
to a state of complete destitunou. In dis
guise, she wandered over the most 111 went
ble part of Hungary. She even, as a
means of safety, as well as support, sought
for service as a servant, and by telling that
she was a poor woman just discharged
from a public hospit .I—which, indeed. she
very much resembled—was so fortunate as
to find employment in the family of an
humble carpenter. in the town of ()rash
Hays, who little thought he was served by
the lady of Louis Kossuth, the hoe Gov.
ernor of Hungary. Every where notices
were exposed in the streets offering forty
thousand florins for her capture, and pro
claiming death as the punishment of the
person who should dare to harbor or con
ceal her from the authorities.
Among the persons who fled with M.
Kossuth before the overwhelming number
of his enemies, was an elderly lady. whom
it is necessary to designate as Madame
1,—, - and who, from being unable to
ride as fist and as long as those who were
stronger and younger than herself, soon be
came exhausted, and was left behind.—
She had a son, a Major in the Hungarian
army, near the person of the Governor,
and both the son and the mother were
warmly attached to his interests. Madame
when unable to proceed longer
with the fugitives, in order to reach a place
of safety in the;dominions of the Sultan of
Turkey, determined to remain in Hungary
and devoje herself to the finding of Mad
ame Kossuth, and restoring her to her hus
band.
For this benevolent purpose Madame
L— disguised herself a. a beggar ; and
after a long and weary journey, oftener on
foot than in any conveyance, she crossed
the vast sandy plains of southern Hungary ,
and at length reached the place in which
Kossuth's children were, tut could hear
nothing of their mother.
She learned that the children had been
sent. soon after their mother had lost sight
of them, to the house of General C—,
now in the service of the Sultan of Syria,
to be kept with his own three children
hoping that they would thus be screened
from those who sought after them. The'
eldest, named Louis, after his father, was
seven years old ; and all were told that if
they acknowledged they were the children
of the Governor, they would be imprison
ed by the Austrian., and never see their
parents again. So that when an Austrian
officer traced them to the house of General
G—, he was at • loss to know which
were those of General o—, and which
were those of M, Kossuth : and approach
ing the eldest of the latter, said : " SO, my
little man, you are the son of the Gover-
nor !" To which the youth replied: "I
am not, sir." His dramass surprised and
vexed the officer, who was certain from
the statement of their betrayer, that those
before him were the long-lost treasures of
hitambitious 'search. He now endeivor
ed to frighten the children, and drawing a
pistol, directed it to the breast of the boy,
and said that ithi did not at once acknow
ledge that be was the eon, of Kossuth, he
would put a bell through his heart. Young
Louis—who, it is said, shows himielf,
now in exile at Kutayieh, much of the
character of his father—replied in a tone
equally firm : " I tell you, sir, lam not the
son of Kossuth." The officer, baffled by
the child's simplicity of manner and apps
rent sincerity was divested of his convic
tions, and led to believe that he had been
imposed upon.
Before Madame L— could get near
them, other agents of the Austrian Gov
ernment had been more successful, and the
three children had been carried off in se
cret to Pesth, near the clutches of the
butcher Ilaynau. The mother and sister
of M. Kossuth bad also been captured, and
placed in strict tonfinement. It may be
here mentioned, in this little narrative of
the sufferings and deliverance of the rela
tives of Louis Kossuth, that Madame 1.--
on finding where and how his children
were situated, found out her own maid
servant, and so succeeded as to have her
engaged at Peath u their nurse. This
person never left them until the moment
of their final deliverance from their Aus
trian jailors was arrived. After thus hav
ing provided for the welfare of the child
ren of M. Kossuth, Madame L— renew
ed her search for the destitute, suffering
mother.
Finding no trace of her, Madame L—
determined to follow the fugitives, and if
she reached Widdin, to ascertain from M.
Kossuth himself where his poor wife had
gone, and then return in search of her.—
Continuing in the disguise of a beggar,
sometimes on foot, at others in a farmer's
earl, this heroic woman reached the fron
tiers of Hungary, crossing them, entered
the fortified and walled town of Widdin.
where the late Governor of Hungary, and
his brave unfortunate companions then
were enjoying the protection and hospital
ity of the Sultan of Turkey. Madame
L--- applied to M. Kossuth, but not be.
ing known to him personally, and the Aus
trian General having set so high a price-on
the capture of his wife, he at first regarded
her in the light of an Adstrian spy. Hav
ing, however, soon found her eon, who
had followed the Governor into Turkey,
he readily convinced Kossuth of the iden
tity of his mother. All the information
which M. Kossuth could give her was,
that there was a lady in Hungary in whose
house he believed his wife would seek a
a refuge ; and if she was not still there this
lady would moat probably know where she
was.
The Governor now furnished Madame
I, with a letter to this lady, and ano
ther with his own signet-ring fur his wife,
which would be evidence of her
It is not here necessary to hillow Madame
on her toilsome journey. Devoted
to the philmathrippic work which she had
undertaken, site wandered over the sandy
steppes of Hungary, until she succ e eded
in reaching the little town in which the la
dy resided, and delivered to her M. Kos-
Nudes letter. This she read and immedi
ately burned ii, not daring even to allow it
to exist in her possession. This lady in
formed Madame that the wife of
Governor Kossuth had left her residence in
the guise of a mendicant, and intended as
suming the name of Maria F—n ; that
she was to feign herself to be the widow of
a soldier who had fallen in battle, and that,
if possible, she would go to the very cen
tre of Hungary, in those vast pasture
lands, where she hoped tin one would seek
after her.
With this information Madame 1.--
again resumed her journey. She feigned
to be an aged grandmother, whose grand
son was Mssing, and that she was in
search of him. She made many narrow
escapes while pealing guards, soldiers and
spies ; until at length she reached the
plains before mentioned. She went from
house to house, as if in search of her grand.
son, but in reality to find one who would
answer the description of poor Maria
F—n. At length in a cabin she heard
that name mentioned, and on inquiry learn
ed that she was the widow of a Hungarian
soldier who had fallen in battle, and that
she had a child, who was with its grand
parents. They then described her person,
but added that she hail suffered so much
from illness and grief that she was greatly
changed. " Before she came here." said
the speaker, " she worked for bread, even
when ill ; but after her arrival she became
too much indisposed to labor, on aecoont
of which they sent to the Sisters of Chari
ty for a physician. who came, bled and
blistered her ; and when she was able to go
she had been conveyed to the institution of
the Sisters, where she then was." Mad
ame 1...—, feeling s convinced that the poor
sufferer must be none other than the object
of her search, expressed a desire to visit
her.
At the Sisters of Charity, Madame 1..
had much difficulty in procuring access to
Maria. and the latter was as much opposed
to receiving her. At length Madame L.
told the Sisters to inform her that she had
a message for her from her husband, who
was not dead, as she had supposed, and
that she would soon convince her, if she
would permit her to enter. Poor Maria,
between fear and hope. gave her consent,
and Madame L— was allowed to see
her. Madame handed her the lat
ter of Governor Kosauth. She recognized
at once the hand writing ; kissed it; pressed
it to heart ; devoured its contents, and then
destroyed it immediately. Soon a story
was made up between the females. They
told the Sisters of Charity that Maria'a
husband still lived," and that she would
rejoin him. A little wagon was procured;
as many comforts were put in it as could
be had without suspicion ; and these two
interesting women set out on their escape
from the enemies of their country!
°lt is not known by whet mute the Indies numb
ed the capital of Humility; but it le certeln that,
sifppoehig their presence would not be suopected
at Peeth, they heroically proceeded to the city .
then in the pomeosion of heroically
•Heynas.- It has
since then become a exam of pride to both of
tlypin.thst they. seN in their dineuMit, passed that
theteekbreted military "butcher" in the streets
of Peetb. Among the Imtere with which this
lady ems charged by the exiles of Widdin,
wee ORS fur the mertyr of Hungary. Culottes
ltien'omilleted in a prison of 'the city,
orititinie tbe cruel Otte to which the »bomber" sub.
*led bin. White it war decided that be should
be ignominiously pat Coles% by the hangmen's
rope. that oscallerit en very mild Humpuiau pa
trlotendeavored to put an aid to hie own existence
with a razor ; but untorMaately note uMieding;
Madames L— had a relative in Hun
gary, who had cot been compromised in
the war; so this person arranged to meet
the ladies at a given place, and in the char
acter of a merchant travel with them. Altai..
they had left the pasture-grounds, ha pass
ed as-the husband of " Maria," and the el
der female as his aunt. At night they
stopped at a village. and were suspected,
on account of the females occupying the
bed, while he slept at the door. They
started early in the morning and the "hus
band" remained behind to learn some
thing more of the suspicions to which their
conduct had given rise. He again over
took them, as they stopped to feed their
horse, and bade them be greatly on their
guard.
In the evening, while the two ladies
were sitting together in a miserably cold
room, the face of poor Maria so muffled
up as to conceal her features, and induce
the belief that she was suffering from her
teeth, both appearing much as persons in
great poVerty, overcome by their afflictions.
Maria had a nervous attack, and talked and
laughed so loud that her voice was recog
nized by an Austrian officer who happen
ed to be in the house. This person sent
a servant to ask them to come into his
room, where there was a fire. Madame
L— inquired the name of the
,"good
gentleman," who had the kindness to in
vite them to his room, and wherishe heard
it, Maria recognized initial-4s deadly.ene.
my of her husband. While they were
planning a mean.; of evading him, the offi
cer himself came into their apartment.—
Immediately &riving, they made an humble
courtesy, in so awkward a manner as to
divest him of all suspicion. Madame L.
spoke, and thanked him again and again
for his kindness, hut added that such poor
creatures as they, were not fit to go into
his room. So soon as the officer retired.
Maria had -another attack, which would
certainly have betrayed them, had he been
present. Madame implored her to
be composed, or they would be lost.
Starting again, they were not molested
until in the evening, when they were ap
prehended and conducted by two police.
men before a magistrate. There the former
spoke of them as suspicious characters; ,
but they were not informed of what they
had bean suspected. While the exemi.
nation was in progress, Madame ',—
slipped a bank-note into-the hand of the
superior of the two policemen.
This bribe quite changed the affair; the
two men became their friends, excited the
pity of the magistrate in their favor, and
they were alloived to depart. Thus they
went on from station to station, until they
reached the frontiers of Hungary near the
Danube. They entered the little town of
Saubin, and asked permission of the head
of the police to pass over the river to Bel
grade. This was refusck until they said
they wished logo there for a certain medi
cine for a daughter who was ill, and that
they would leave their passports as a se
curity. lie then gave his consent, and
they crossed the Danube, and entered the
dominions of the Sultan of Turkey.
It was night when they entered Bel
grade. They knocked at the door of the
Sardinian Consul. who had recently been
stationed in that frontier town by his king,
whoa() whole heart sympathised it, the
Hungarian cause, And who had formed a
friendly alliance with M. koscuth for the
freedom of Italy and Hungary. The Con
sul had been advised by his protection, but
not knowing them. he inquired what they
wished him. Madame 11,—replied,
-Lodging and bread." lie invited them
in, and Madame L.—introduced him 'to
Madame Kossuth, the lady of the late Gov
ernor of Hungary.
It will reatiily be conceived that the
Consul could scarcely believe that there
two miserable beings were the persons
they presented themselves to be. Madame
Kossuth convinced him by showing him
the signet.ring of her husband. In his
house Madame Kossuth fell ill, but re
ceived every.. possible perinea,. from her
host. They learned-.that all the Hungari
ans and Poles had been removed from Wid
din to Shumla ; and notwithstanding that
it was in the midst el a severe winter they
decided upon proceeding at once to the
latter place. The Sardinian Consul ap
plied to the generous and- very liberal
Prince of Servia. in whose principality
Belgrade is, for his assisaance in behalf of
the ladies, and in the most hospitable and
fearless manner he provided them with
his own carriage and four horses, and an.
escort ; and in this way they started through
the snow front Shemin. Their journey
was without apprehensions of danger, for
the British Consul General at Belgrade,
Mr. F---. had provided the party with
a passport as British subjects, under the
assumed names of Mr.. Mrs., and Miss
Bloomfield ; yet the severity of the
weather was such that Madame Kossuth,
in the ill state of her health. suffered very
much. Often the snow was as deep as
the breasts of the horses, and , not, unite
quently four oxen had to be attached to it
in their places. A journey which ittsum
mer would have required but a few days.
now was made in twenty-eight.
On the twenty-eight day. a conrier was
sent in advance of them, to ap prise
. Gov:
Kossuth of their approach. He wall ill;
and, moreover, on account of the many
plans of the Austrians to assassinate hint the
Sultan's authorities could not allow hints , to,
leave numb' and go to meet his wife...—.
The news of her almanacs and her apc
roach occasion the liveliest satisfaction
to all the refugee ; and the Hungarians .and
Poles went as fa as the gates of thecity to
meet this heroic martyr of the cause of
Hungary. It was night whenthe carriage
neared the city ; as it entered the gates,
she found the streets lighted up• with hun
dreds of lights, green, white. and red. the
colors of the Hungarian flag, and was wel
comed with thu most £t tally elleuts from
the whole body of the refugees.
Heiman dragged his mutilated and bleeding body
from the prison, and ended his life son rho gallows.
The litter which Madams L— had for him was
froth his brother, who had escaped ham Turkey
with M. Kossuth ; end she bad ilia satisfaction of
causing it. through the venality of his jailors, to
be plated is the heeds of the sufferer, to whom it
was no little source of cousulation to Maim that his
brother timid in safety.
TWO DOI LARS PER,ANN UM
NUMBER 35.
When Modems Kossrith deseonded
from her earriage.she found herself in the
presence of her husband. who had risen •
from his bed of of illness to receive the •
por "Maris F—n." of the plains a
Hungary. In place of receiving her in his
arms. M. Kossuth, overcome by feelings
?f admiration for the sufferings whirl' his
wife had undergone. end by gratitude fp
her devotion to the cense of her coati*. •
threw himself at her feet and kissed them.
She endeavored to speak and offer bar low. •
band consolation and trtnquility.whileher
own poor feeble heart was ready to burst '
with emotion. Her voice failed her, end:
amid the reiterated shouts of Hungarians'.
and Poles, this hernia woman was curried . ?
to her husband's apartments. -* ,?1
In March of the last year some sthessitr
persons--the chief of the Hungarian - NIL=
ogees. among whom were Wren) Polimo
—were conveyed in one of the tomer*
of the Sultan of Turkey to the phtertdriekt
isnated for their future residence
Minor. From Shoat!' they trave led by
land to Varna. on the Black ' Sea ';fwa
thence they were taken tit thelteittief to
Genslik • in the Gulf of Madanielf.
sea or Mariners. without bei4ilbiiitialo'
sum at Constnntirtoplit. ney“thittitied'
from that place to Bonus, at the feint i vil,
Mount Olymiitti. and Sher ti ehttft`delk~i
there, agitated by fin* and fear" they
continued on to Kulatillt'Wheitelhiy't
maned Lind!' thiSultac.. ehititite
the interemodott of the . GOvernment
United States. aided by the refoeisentittions'
of Lord Palmeririon. determined to set them '
at liberty. Madame Kosibith is her
hualnind; and: greatly throuffh the labors of ,
madame I, who undertook shadier'
journey into Hungary (or this rittrixiiiir,Shn'
now also has her Children With' '
mong the individuals who - petslitield
remaining at Kutayielt with the ex-Giillaru l
nor of Hungary antthiniady;4l - 4-114ittlais_
Land the relative whoduritnitith die:'
germ's wanderings in ifortitersr"fike,4ll j 41:
her husband. ' ' ""
In the United Stateli'they will Allied a'
hearty' vrelentea,fjorlin:Abg.pStherof pH=
•ate life wish 'will find that syrepethy shit.
assistance- to which their pateintieut*E
sufferings so strongly entitle theni
We have already alluded trt theietitetli
ble case of Almira tlettzley,, eke, wits ,reJ
cently arrested at Provident:or etutqgmit
with murder. The accused •is a girl el
fourteen, and her victim was a youni broth=
er. The Providence Journal teiTs: that
she has Ewen acquitted on the, ((resell ,t3l * :
inaanity, stud she editor evoke. thaw COM ,
manta ,
"She was a 'medium' In the spiritual
rapping., and was fume inugb toreet,iee -
am! keep up a deception upon this 15t:4.04
which excited the wonder of the neighbor-,
hood, and baffled the scrutiny., of , those'
who carne to hear the revelstione. xt
her own eonfessions, she made ail the' rap.,
pings herself and accomplished, by sun t ry'
pretty thefts , the prod etions
_which she
pretended to receive from the' spirits,--:
She predicted the death of her little bnit6'
er. she sent to an apothecary, bouilit some
arsenic, administered it to the child. and it
died. When told that the body was exam ;
ined, she asked if the 'doettirs meld detect
poison in a dead body, EverythingehoW.'
(NJ the cool calculation of a mind, seuttif,
enough except in the conception atid tam , '
vise of .so horrible and, unnatural a iritue.
The grounds of insanity were. ihe'phiet.,,
cal changes to .Thigh girl* ill llfrage,
subject, and which, presented nothing-um:a
nal in her case and the infiliettee or a be=
lief thai she was' in cotninitnication 'With
spirits, which belief she did out etiteitsitl;
as, by her own confession,' she mi.di the
rapping. herself."
The demeanor of the prisonercduriall
the, trial, was modest. gentle' and tinalliot
ted. The expression of her face iii said
to be simple and amiable, without a trice
of malignity or remorse. During.tfee ex. !
amine tion of the witnesses. she interned,
to be listless and inattentive to wlutt
was said the only evidence that seemed.
to interest her beingthat relative to the
"spiritual tappings." at which au esessioh
ally meafittholy smile strayenl 'over her
face, to be quickly lost in its tmsteitiary
Iliatieuness. With Mrs. UnderwOod. the'
woman with whom she had once lived. . sbe,
conversed with an appsra rn unreservedb
ness, and played with the infant which' ihe ,
held in her arms with girlish interest and
affection. When, M r . P o r t er oomootom,tit:
his lulu meat and spoke of her 'fritindlisir;
ness and desolation, and of the unhappy'
in
einmstances of her early t th, ittt4 Intr.'
led her face in her handkerchief:ad rept.
and alwayeseemed deeply, affetneal,by any
pathetic allusion to her fate l• while an ex
pression of abhorrence at the crime isitlx
which she wee' Onirged Passed 'entirely :
unheeded by, ber. During the latei Eqpt*
of the iris/ she wu, more attentive than in
first. When called upon to hear her Ver-'
diet, she stepped forward" yiithoutb*ity
ing any visible trepidation, but t Whiner:-
quitted, receiied ,the congratulation , of
her counsel and friends with much appar
ent pleasure. ' '
A Rtuttvtcatrr Fact .—T e oppoeirig
oliquessei the Loeofocoparty in Lancaster
°Minty could not agree in nominating cart
didams lot Senators. The result was that
the Buchanan wing supported Mr. Bongh
ter. the sand idate nominated by their friends
in Lebauon. and the Fraser wing support.
ed Mi. Eohteromilit. the candidate mem•
nated by the Frazer Convention. 'Phil
result of the polls is Ealiternacht. 4001,
Boughter 228.3. which alforthi preup now
elusive proof that Mr. Buchanan ist.
a large minority of even his owu party cisk
Lancaster county. •
(4r•Tha Loodoom of Wisoimin UM*
nominated Hon. Mins? Dosid,, A*
State, fbr the Presidency. ' "