D:IV;
HEMPHILL MOORE,;
Editori4 Proihrs
JL 5
InlittelsovErsant Enenzatti
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Mary Brand's Rescue; .
Or, a Love of fifteen years rewarded.
A TAB OF TnE FAR WEST.
AthMidthe Iklormons wherOthey emi
grated tram Nauvoo, was an old man, rt-
Ined:Branil, 'from Shelby. county, State of
Tennessee, with a family of. a daughter
end two sons, the latter with their wives
arid Children. Brand was a wiry old fel
loif; nearly seventy years of age, but still
itrong, rind, wielded axe orrifie better than
many a young manl If, truth be told, he
Was riOt a Very, red hot Mormon, and had
-joined them as much for the sake of, corn
pany to . California, whither he had long re
solved 'to emigrate, as for any implicit
credence in the faith. His sons were strap
ping fellows, of the sterling stuff that the
Western pioneers were made of; his
daughter Maiy, a fine woman of thirty,
for whose . state of single blessedneSs there
tpust doubtless have been sufficient reason ;
for she was not only - remarkably hand-
some, but was well known in Shelby to be
the best tempered and most industrious
young woman in those diggings. She was
known to have received several advanta
geous offers, all of which she had refused ;
and report said that it was from having
been.disappointed in very early life in an
ajairc du caw, at an ago when such
wounds sometimes strike strong and deep,
leaVing a scar difficult to heal. Neither
his, daughter,nor any of his family, had
been converted to the Mormon doctrine,
but had' :ever kept themselves aloof, and
refused to join or associate with them ; and,
for this reason, the family had been very
unpopular with the Mormon families on
the Arkansas ;band hence, probably, one
great reason . \Ay they now started on their
journey.
One fine sunny evening in April of 18 . 47,
when the cotton woods on the banks of the
Arkansas began to put forth their buds,
and robins and blue-birds—harbingers of
"Spring—Were hopping, with gaudy plum
age through the thickets, three white tilted
Conestoga wagons emerged from the tim
bered bottom of the river, and rumbled
slowly over the prairie, in the direction of
the Platte's waters. Each wagon was
drawn by eight oxen, and contained a por
tion of the farming implements and house
hold utensil's of the Brand family. The
teams were driven by the young boys, the
man followed 'in the rear with shouldered
rifles—eld Brand himself mounted .on an
'lndian horse, leading the advance. The
women were safely housed under the shel
ter of the wagon tilts, and out of the first
mild face of Mary Brand smiled•adieu to
'many of her old companions, who had ac
• companied them thus far, and now wished
them God-speed on their long journey.'
The women were sadly. down-hearted,
as well they might he, with the dreary
prospect before them ; and poor Mary,
when'sho saw the Mormon encampment
shutout from her sight by the rolling bluffs,
and nothing before her but the bleak, bar-1
ren prairie, could not divest herself of the
idea that she had looked for thelast time'
on civilized fellow-creatures, and fairly :
lairstinto tears.
They had for a guide a Canadian voya
geur, who had been in the service of the
Indian. traders, and knew the route well,
and had agreed to pilot them to Fort Lan- ,
caster on north fork of the Platte.— '
Their course led • for about thirty miles up
the Boiling Spring river, whence they pur-'
sued a north-easterly course -to, the divid
inc, ridge which *separates the watersnfthe
Pratte and Arkansas. Their progress was
slow, for the ground was saturated with
wet, and exe,eedingly heavy for the cattle;
and they scarcely advanced more than ten
miles a day.
'At the camp fire at night, Antonio, the
Canadian guide, amused them with talcs
of the wild life and perilous adventures of
the kunters and trappers 'who make the
-menntains their' home; often. extorting a
scream' trom the women-by, the description
of some Beene of Indian fight and slaught
,er, Or: beguiling them-of a commisserating
tear by tiro narrative of tho sufferings and
,prisationw endured by those hardy hunters
" i in!their arduous lives, .
:Mary..listerted with the greater interest,
sincei!sho remembered that such was the
life that , liad.been led by' one' very.dear to
one, long' Supposed to be dead, of
whom she had -never' but once, since hie
departure, nearly - fifteen years before,
heard a Syllable., Her imagination pictu
red as, the bravest and mostdaring of
these adVentiirous hunters, and conjured
•np
,his, figure, charging through, the_ midst
ofWhecputg ; sairage,s,' or stretched ,on the
ground perishing fom wounds, or cold, or
.;
Amang'.the. characters: !who figured in
Antanie's stories,, a- hunter named -La
Bank:Was "made conspicuous, for deeds ,of
hard . itiessind daring. The - first : , mention
orthe name caused, the ; bleed :‘to rush to
Mitry'S,faCe 7, not that she, for
,a moment
imagined that
. was . her La sopte, fo r she
knew the:name was . a common one ;abut
spoetated.with feelings which she
,had ne
,
er get the better of, it recalled Et sad, epoeit
her former!life, to whieh .. she ceuld, not
.k back withoiit mingled pain and plea
're.
•
.
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A WEEKLY PAPER: DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, AGRICULTURE, MORALITY, AND FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE.
Volume I.
Once only, and about two, years after
his 'departure, had She aver received tidings
of her former lover. A mountaineer had
returned from the 'for west' to -settle in his
native State, and had found his way to the
neighborhood
,of old 'Brand's farm,. Meet
ing him by acccident, Mary, hearing him
speak of the mountain hunters, had
ed tremblingly after La Bonte. Her infor
mant knew hum well—had trapped in com
pany with him—and hod heard at the tra
ding fort, whence he had taken his depar
ture for the settlements, that La Bente had
been killed on.the XelloW Stone by Black
feet; which report was confirmed by some
Indians of that nation. This was all she
had ever learned of the lover of her youth.
As the wagons of the lone caravan. r6ll
on toward the Platte, wo must ask the rea
der to accompany us to a camp in the wil
derness, where La Bonte, Killbuck, and a
stranger, were sitting before a fire ;—Kill
buch loquitur:
"The doirth' of them Mermen fools can't
bo beat by Spaniards,•strangers. Their
mummums and thummums you speak of
won't shine whar Injuns are about; nor
pint out a trail, whar nothin' crossed but
rattle snakes since fust it snowed on old
Pike's Peak. If they pack along them
profits, as you tell of, who can Ariake it
rain humpribs and marrow guts when the
crowd gets out of the Buffalo range, they
are some now, that's a fact. But this child
won't believe it. I'd laugh to get a sight
on these darned Mormonites, I would.—
They'te no account, I guess; and it's the
meanest kind of action to haul their wo
men critters and their young 'uns to seek
a starving country as the Californys."
"They are not all Mormons in the
crowd," said the strange hunter; "and
there's one family among them with some
smartish boys and girls, I tell you. Their
name's Brand."
La Bente looked up from the lock of his
rifle, which he was cleaning—but either
didn't hear, or hearing, didn't heed, for he
continued his work.
_ "And they are going to part company,"
continued the stranger, "and put out alone
for Platte and South Pass."
"They'll loose their hair, I'm thinking,'
said Killbuck, "if the Rapahos arc ou
thar." •
"I hope not," continued tho other, "for
there's a girl among them worth more than
that."
"Poor Beaver !" said La Bonte, looking
Up from his work. "I'd hate to see any
white gal in the hands of Injuns; and o
Rapahos Worse, than all. Where does she
come. from .stranger?"
"Down below St. Louis, from Tennes
see, I've heard them say." •
"Tennessee," cried La Bonte--"hurrah
for the old State ! What's her name,
strap—" •
At this moment Killbuck's old mule
pricked hj cars and snuffed the air, which
action catching La Bonte's eye, he arose
abruptly, without waiting a reply to his
question, and exclaimed, •
"The old mule smells Injuns or I'm a
Spaniard:" • • -
The hunter did the mule justice, and she
well maintained her reputation as the best
"guard" in.the mountains, for in two min
utes •an Indian stalked into the camp, dres
ed in a cloth capote, and in odds and ends
of civilized attire:
"Rapaho," cried Killbuck, as soon as
he saw hips; and the Indian catching the
word, struck his hand upon his breast, and
exclaimed in broken Spanish and English
"Si, si, me Arapaho, white man amigo.
Come to camp—cat heap carne—me ami
go white man. Come from Pueblo—hunt
cibola—me gun breafi—no puedo matur
nada ; mucha hambra. (very hungry) heap
eat."
Kil!buck offered his pipe to the Indian,
and spoke to him in his own language,
which both he' and La Bente well under
stobd. They learned that he was married
lo a Mexican' woman and lived with seine
hunters at the Pueblo fork on the Arkitn- .
sad. He volunteered the information that
a .war, party of his people were' out on the
Platte trail to intercept the Indian traders
on their return from the North Fork ; and
as some Mormons
. had just started With
three 'wagons in that direction, he said his
pople Would make a' raise. Being muy
amigo himself to the wbites, : he cautioned
his pregent companions from crossing to
the divide, as the braves, he said, were big
and nothing in shape ofa white skin would
live before therri. ' •
The • Indian was prOvAled
poWder,. of which he `stood 'in need ; and
;lam' gorging as much meat as his capa
cious stomach 'would hold, he 101 the camp
and started into the mountain.
..1 , •
The"next' day our hunters started on
their journey down the 'river, travelling
leisurely;and stopping wherever good grass
presented itself. One Morning. they sud-
denly struck a wheel traps, Which loft the.
creek banks and pursued a pAuiso at right
Angles to.it, in the direetion of the
Kil(buck pronounced it but *a few hotiie
old; and- that of three wagons, draiiti by
oxen, - ; , ,
"Wagh I" he eXclaiined, "if them poor
devils of Mennonites ain't going head first
=I
I=
Clearlield, Pai l August 211-1549.
into the Rapaho trap: They'll be ''gone:
beaNier.' afore- rong.
"Ay," said the strange 'hunter, "these
are the wagons belonhing to old Brand, and
ho has started alone-tor Laramie. I hope
nothing will happen to them."
' "Brand I" mutteted La Bonte, "I know
ed that name . mighty well once, years
agorae ; and should hate .the worst kind
that.rnisChief 'should : , happen to any one
who bore . it. This trail's as fresh as paint;
and it goes against me to let these simple
critters help the Rapahos to their own hair.
This child feels like helping 'cm out of
the scrape. :What do you say, old hes'!"
"I think with you; boy," answered Kill
buck, "and go in tor following this wagon
trail, and telling the poor critters that thar's
danger ahead of 'cm. What's your talk,
stranger 1"
"I go with you," shortly answered the
latter; and both ollowed quickly after La
Bontc:, who was already trotting smartly
on the trail. •
Meanwhile the three wagons, containing
the household goods of the Brand family,
rumbled slowly over - the rolling prairie,
and toward the upland ridge of the "di
vide," which, studded with dwarf pine and
cedar thicket, rose, gradually before them.
They travelled with considerable caution,
for already the quick eye of Antoine had
discovered recent Indian signs upon the
trail, and with mountain quickness, had
at once made it out to be that of a war
party ; for there were no horses with them,
and, after one or two of the moccasin
tracks; the mark of a rope which trailed
upon; the ground, was sufficient to show
him that • the Indians were provided with
the usual lasso of skin, with which to se
cure the horses stolen in the expedition.—
The men of the party were consequently
all mounted and thoroughly armed, the
wagons moved in , line abreast, and a
sharp look out was kept on all sides.. The
women and children were all consigned to
the interor of the wagons; and the latter
had also guns in readiness, to take their
part in the defence, if an attack was made.
However, they had seen no Indians, and
no fresh sign for two days after they left
the Boiling Spring River, and they began
to think they were well out of their neigh
borhood. One evening they camped on
a creek called Black Horse, and, as usu
al, had corralled thewagons, and forted as
well as circumstances would permit, when
three or four Indians suddenly appeared on
a bluff at a little. distance, and making sig
nals of Peaceable intentions, approttehed
the camp.. Most of the men were absent
' at the time, attending to the cattle, or col
lecting fuel, : and only old Brand and one
of his young grandchildren, about fourteen
years old, remained in camp. The Indi
ans were hospitably received, and regaled
with a 'smoke, after which they began to
evince their curiosity by examining every
article about, and_ signifying their wishes .
that it should be given to them. ,
The other whites presently coming into
camp; the Indians 'sat quietly down bythe
fire, and when the supper was ready, join
ed in the repast, after which they gathered
their buffalo robes about them, and quiet
ly withdrew. Meanwhile Antoine, know
ing the treacherous character of the sava
ges, advised that the greatest precaution
should he taken to •SeCure the stock; and
before, dartt`, therefore, all the..mulea and
horses were hobbled and secured within
the corral, the, oxen being allowed to feed
at liberty—for tip Indians scarcely care to
trouble ,themselves with such cattle. A
guard was also set around the camp, and
relieved every two hours; the fire was ex
tinguished, lest the savages should aim, by
its light, at any of the party, and all slept
with rifles ready at, their sides, . Howev
er, the, night passed quietly, and nothing
disturbed the tranquility of the' camp.—
The prairie wolves loped hungrily around;
and their mournful cry was borne upon
the wind as they chased deer and antelope
in the neighbcain.,,i , plain; but not a sign of
lurking•lndiant Mre seen or heard. •
In the( morning, shortly after . sunrise,
they were in the act of yoking the oxen to
the wagons, and driving in the looseani
male which
,had been turned out to feed at
day break, when soMe,lndians again ap.
peared upon the bluff, and, descending it,
confidently approached the . camp. An
toine strongly advised their not • being 'al
lowed to enter; but Brand, ignorant °fin-,
dian treachery, replied that,. so long as
they came as friends, they could - not he
'deemed enemies, and allowed no obstruc
tion-to be offered to , their
.approach, At
was now observed that theywere 411 palm
ed,armed with bows and .arrows, and
vested;oftheir buffalo robes, appearing na
ked to the, breech-clout, their legs onlybe
ing . protected by dtter4kin leggings,-reach
ing. to ,the of the thigh. : Six or'
seven first,arrived, and ; others
lowed r drOppitig inione after the ether, any 1
til a score er.more .were,,COO ted round
the i wtigopl,•, Their, demeanor, .. at i first
friendly; soon ,changed ; as their numbers
increasedrand.they now became tirgent in
their .demands Tor-o\oer and,lead, and
bullying in th,eir,miinnm,',-:A ebiefliccos,,
ted,Brand,
..threugh MtO,ino,
ed , him : ‘,144 unless • the , demands ?qf his
braves were acceded to, he could not be
responsible for the consequences t that they
THE
were on the 4 wtir trail,' and their OyeEiWere,
red with blood, so they could not distin:
oxish between white and Yuta scalps; and
the party, with all their women and wag
ons, were in the. power of the Indian
`braves,' and therefore the white chief's
best plan was to make. the best .terms he
could; that all they required was that they
should give up.their guns and ammunition
"on the prairie," and all their mules and
horses L--retaining the 'Medicine' buflhloes,
(the oxen,) to draw their wagons.
By this time the oxen were yoked, and
the teamsters whip in hand, only waited
the word to start. Old Brand foamed while
the Indian stated his demands, but hearing
him to the• end, exchlimed—" Darn the red
devil I I wouldn't give him a grain of pow
der to save my life. But out boys land
turning to his horse, which stood ready
saddled, was about to mount, when the In
dians sprang at once upon the wagons, &
commenced their attack, yelling like fiends.
One jumped upon old Brand, pulled him
back;as ho was rising in his stirrup, and
drew his bow upon him at the same mo
ment. In an instant the old backwoods-
Man pulled a pistol from his belt, and put
ting the muzzle to the Indian's heart, shot
him dead. Another Indian, drawing his
war club, laid the old man at his feet ;
while some dragged the women from the
wagons, and others rushed upon the men,
who made brave fight in their defence.—
Mary, when she saw her father struck to
the ground, sprang.with a shrill cry to his
assistance; for at that moment a savage,
frightful as red paint could make him, was
standing over his prostrate body, brandish
ing a glittering knife in the air, prepara
tory to thrusting it into the old man's
breast. For the rest, all was confusion :
in vain the small party of whites struggled
against overpowering numbers. 'Their ri
fles cracked but once, and they were quick
ly disarmed; while the shrieks of women
and children, and the hiud yells of Indi
ans, added to the scenes of horror and con
fusion. As Mary flew to her.fathers side,
an Indian threw his lasso at her, the noose
falling over her shoulders, and jerking it
tight, he uttered a delighted yell as the
poor girl was thrown back violently to the
ground. As she fell, another deliberately
shot an arrow at her body, while the one
•who bad thrown the lasso, rushed forward,
his scalp knife flashing in his hand, to
seize the bpody trophy of his savage deed.
!The girl rose to her knees, and looked
wildly toward the spot where her father
lay bathed in blood; but the Indian pulled
the rope violently, dragged her some yards
upon the ground, and then rushed with ti
yell of vengeance upon his victim. Lie
!paused, however, as at that moment a
fierce shout sounded at his Very ear.; and
!looking up, he saw La Bente galloping
down the bluff; the long hair and the frin
ges of his hunting shirt and leggings fly
ing in the wind, his right arm supporting
his trusty rifle, . while close behind him
came Killbuck and the stranger. Dash
ing with loud hurrahs to the seene:of ac
tion, La Bente, as ho charged down the
bluff, caught sight of the girl struggling in
the hands of the ferocious Indian. Loud
was the war shout of the mountaineer, as
he struck his heavy spurs to the rowels in
his horse's side, and bound like lightning
to the rescue. In a single stride he was
upon the Indian, and thrusting the muz
zle of his rifle into his breast, he pulled the
trigger, driving the savage backward by
the blow itself; at the same moment that
the bullet passed through his heart, and
tumbled over stone dead. Throwing down
his rifle, La Bonte wheeled his obedient
horse, and drawing a pistol from hiS7belt,
again charged the enemy, among. whom
Killbuck and the stranger were dealing
death-giving blows. Yellint .for victory,
the mountaineers rushed at the Indians;
and they, panic-struck .at the sudden at
tack, and - thinking that this was but the
advanced guard of a large band, fairly
turned and fled, leaving five of their num
ber dead upon the field.
Mary, shutting her eyes in the expected
death stroke, heard the loud shout
Bente gave in charging down the bluff, &
again looking. up saw the wild looking
mountaineer rush to, the rescue, and save
her from the savage by his timely ,blgw.
Her arms were' still pinned by the lasso,
which prevented . from,. rising to her
feet ; and La Bente was the first to, run to
her aid, as soon as the fight was fairly,o;
yer. He . jumped from his horse, out the
skin. rope which bound her,, raised her
froni the ground, and,. upint her turning
up.bo face So thank
,bim, beheld his nev,
er-to-be-forgotten Mary Brand; while she,
hardly believinff b her senses, reeogniied in
her. deliverer her .former loyer, and still
well beloved La Bente, . .
. . .
f "What a Mary I can it be your lie ask
ed, looking intently upon the trembling
woman.
"La Sonte,• you
,don't forget mar she
'answered,
.and, throw herself sobbing into
the army: of dip sturdy:mountaineer.. 1 ,
,There womill leave her, for the present,
and help' Killbuck and his, companions to,
examine. the , and wounded;, Of the
former, Aye ,Incliatui . and ; .tip whites lay
dead, grandchildren gifola J3rnnd, OnviJads
of.PuTtqclL,Or OftqPi Who NO fcmght with
'the greates bra Very, and lay pierced with
lance wounds, Old Brand had received a
ME
'Sore buffet, but.a hatful of cold water from
the creek sprinkled over his face soon re
stored. him. His sons had not escaped
scot free, and Antoine was shot through
the neck, and falling, had actually' been
half scalped by an Indian, whom the time
ly arrival of La Bonte had caused to leave
his work unfinished.
Silently, and with sad hearts, the survi
vors of the family saw the bodies of the
two boys buried on the river bank, and the
spot marked with a pile of loose stones,
procured from the rocky bed of the creek.
The carcases of the treacherous Indians
were tell to be devoured by thegolves, &
their bones to bleach in the sun andwind
—a warning to the tribe,
that . such foul
treachery as they had nieditated•had met
with a merited retribution..
The next day the party continued their
'Course to the Platte. Antoine and the
stranger returned to the Arkansas, start
ing in the night to avoid the Indians; but
Killbuck and La Bonte lent the aid of their '
rifles to the solitary caravan, and under
their experienced .guide, no more Indian
perils were encountered. Mary no long
er sat perched Up in her father's Conesto
ga,but rode a quiet mustang by La Bonte's
side; and no doubt they found a theme
with which to while away the monotonous
journey .over the dreary plains. South
Fork was passed and Laramie was reach
ed. . The Sweet Water Mountains, which
hang over the 'pass'. to California, were
long since in sight; but when the waters
of the north Fork of the Platte lay before
their horses' feet, and the broad trail was
pointed out, which led to the great valley
of Columbia and their promised land, the
heads of the oxen were turned down stream
where the shallow waters flow on to join
the great Missouri—and not up toward the
mountains where they leave their spring
heads, from which springs flow several
waters—some coursing their way ;to the
eastward,: fertilizing in their route to the
Atlantic the lands of civilized man; others
West Ward, forcing a passage through rock
y canons, and flowing through a barren
wilderness, inhabited by fierce and barba
rous tribes. .
These were the routes to choose from;
and whatever was the cause, the oxen
turned their yoked heads away from the
rugged mountains;- the teamsters joyfully
cracked their ponderous whips, as the wag.
ons rolled lightly down the Platte; & men,
women and children waved their hats and
bonnets in the air, and cried out lustily,
" Hurrah for home!"
Four months from the day when La
Bente so opportunely appeared to rescue
Brand's family from the Indians on Black
Horse Creek, that worthy, and faithful Ma
'ry was duly and- lawfully united in the
township church of Bmndville, Shelby
county, State of Tennessee. We cannot
say, in the words of nine hundred and
ninety-nine thousand novels, "numerous
pledges of mutual love surrounded and
cheered them in their declining years,"
&c., &.; because it was only on the 24th
of July, in the year of our Lord 1847, that
La Bonte and Mary Brand were finally
Made one, after fifteen long years of sep
amtion.—Rurton's Life in the Far West.
Woman .under Paganism,
! In many pagan countries the birth of a
daughter is regarded as a calamity, and
an occasian of sorrow. In some tribes fe
male infants arc immediately exposed to
certain death, that their parents May not
have the trouble of bringing them- up.—
When the daughter is allowed to live, She
is regarded as an inferior being; is frown
' ed upon by her parents and other relations;
sold to the highest bidder in marriage;
and then becomei the slave of lief hus
band. As respects matrimony she can
rarely be said to have a choice; she is
given or sad • to those who are willing to
take her. Such is the disgrace of celibacy
in Hindostan, that many women have
been known to marry decripcd and dying
old men just before they drown themsel
ves in the Ganges. Many woman arc
buried alive with their deceased husbands,
or consumed on their funeral piles. In
China, women, have . been seen yoked
with an ox or an ass; while 'the husband
held the plow, and sowed .the seed.. In
Hindostan it is said until recently, not ono
female in twenty millions was acquain
ted with th 3 commonist rudiments of Hin 7
doe' learning.' The American missiona
ries affierri that in the • Island of Ceylon,
When:they first visited it, not a single wo
man in a population of two hundred
thousand could read and that it was con
sidered pernicious, if not :absolutely
possible to educate a • female; and. heavy
calamities, were expected to befall the
woman.that dared to aspire to !le.:distinc
tion of being able to. read and, write
Meng the aboriginal ,tribes
country, the women do the drudgery; and
the men spend their time' in
arid idleness., In i'eany pagan, countries,
the lif4 , of the wernawis . at,tlte..mercy of
the husband, nrid if,sho -offenOtint,'" . may.
her,with perfect , impunity, _or at
. .rnost,
at the expease,of a .small.Ane:,
As might 440 bene,,xpe_eled p r sp4i
degrading 9Por.eooP.ElP4.l...Mmagilth99lY9.4
419 1 1. P1 1 014WR1P4 1 1 , ‘. , q91ic9% .
are generally lowisensual, vicious and'uri
worthy of confidence.
Numbcr. 9.
.Pnidg''Oto.Al)MtirisiNo . :
10 do or ono column', 12 months
-Books,' - hbs and blitiflia' . .;
Of cvcr:y description, printed sn cry liset'etsfle,
fling on the shortest notice; at ihc . counritY‘..:ool.i.
LAU Oita. „ .
A TALE ABOUT A 11EAD.:
. .
Jake, a little buck 'negro who belonged
to Dr. Talater°, Was - said to have iii bib
little frame a heart as big, as 'General Jad.'.
son's. He didn't fear. dvijn Our 'resiictel.b:C
ble• fellow citizen, Old , EtOfor
coolness, ho was as cciol as the .tin nip' of
the N. Pole. ' . • : •
. ,
One day, Dr. Talafero, upon•the occa
sion of the comnieneement ofn Medical
College, of which he held the chair of An.
atomy, gave a dinner. Among 'his guests
was a well known ventriloquist, •Late in
the evening after the bottle had 'done its
work, the conversation turned upon real
courage, and the Doctor boasted coliiidei
ably of his favorite man Jake. He orered
to bet that nothing could Scare him ; - rind
his bet the ventriloquist took up, naming
at the same time the test 'he wanted im
posed. Jake was sent for, 'end he came.
"Jake," said the doctor, "I have bet a
large filial of money on- your head, arid
you must win it. Do - you think you can?"
"Berry well, massa," replied Jake, "jiist
tell dis niggar what he's to do, and he de
it shurc".
"I want you to go to the disseeling
room. You will find two dead bodies
there. Cut off the head of one with
large knife which you' will find there, and
bring it to us. You must not take - a light,
however and don't g . et frightened." • - •
"Dat's all, is it?" inquired Jake. "Citi,! .c
berry well, I'll do • dat for shtire sartiti
and for being frightened, de debil aint
going to frighten me."
Jake accordingly set ofF, reached • the
dissecting room, and groped about until
he found theknife :and-the- bodies. He
-
had just applied the fonner - to' the.nec . k of
the latter, when from the . body he was
bout to decapitate, a hollow And sepulchral
voice exclaimed—
" Let my head alone!"
"Yes salt," replied Jake, "I shit parties
War; and tudder head 'll:do jes as well:"
He accordingly put the knife to ihd
neck of the other corps, whtenother
voice,equelly Unearthly in its tone" hricked
out—
“Lef 641
d al
it my - alone l"
Jake was puzzled at first, but answered;
presently—
" Look a hen ! Master, Tolivcr says I
must bring one ob, de.
n heads, and Yon isn't
pylon to fool me . o how!" . and -Jake.
hacked away until he seperated the head
from the body. Thereupon half a dozen
voices screamed out;
"Bring it back! bring it back !". -
Jake had reached the door, buton hear
ing this turned round and
"Now—now, see yah: •Jes. you keep
quiet you fool, and don't wake'-up -the *a
man folks. Master's only gwien to lailt
at the bumps." • -
'Bring back my head at once,'- cried the
voice. - • - - •
"Tend you right away, sail," replied
Jake es he marched off with the head,-and ,
the next minute deposited it before the
Doctor
"So you've got it I see," said hie mass
7•
EMI
"Yes salt," replied the unmoved Sake,
"but be done lookin at him socsh kaso -de
geminan told me to fotch him back right
[tarty.", • • • '
Nource of Electricity.
The, earth is the great reservoir
tricity, from which the atmosphere and
clouds receive their portion . of this Auid.--
It is during the process of 'evapomtion'that
it is principally exeitcd, and silently con
veyed to the regions above; and: alSci 'du;
ring the condensation of this name. VapOr
the grand and 'terrific phenomena Of tlitin 7
der and lightning are made manifest to oui
sen&es.
In order to form a:correct estirnate - V - : -
/
the immense power 'of this agent - in the
production of electricity, we must bring to
our view the. quantity of water, evaporated
from the surface of the earth, and also the
electricity' that may he developedfrom a
single grain of liquid., - Aecording, to ihe
calculations of Cavallo; abohi • live thou.:
sand two hundred and eight:ninilliona tone'
of water are probably• , evaporatod from the
Mediterranean Sea, in a Single:. Orrin - ees
day. - To obtain some idea. oldie Vast vet:
untiof water thus -.daily taken hp bY'the .
thirsty lie,avans, let its comliaro
something more apparent: than this rnvisi.;
ble proceSs. President Dwight and Pro: i
lessor Darby, have both catiniated :the
quantity : of water precipitat4,over — ,thii
Palls of Niagara at, more,thari eleven mil- .
lions tons per flour. Yet all . the Water,
passing over, the cataract in tweritY;daYS
would only amount to thut ascending from,
the Mediterranean , iii one clay... More
cent estimate makes the, mean evaporation'
from the whole'eartlfaS etpial to acolumn.
Of thirty-five:incite - 8 from every inch of its,
surface ilia year, Which gives' ninety-fotir.
thousand.; four bundied. 'and fifty cub}e:
nines, p.kl the 'quati9 cOntintrallY reultr7, -
tirig through, thc*:titnrospliere.--.ollifipf,.
r„:Coining ich.,
ti rniu, respeh.tivelyAhwhn l ,tlieirinsignia
mitt dilutes. The - iiicces hro 6ifier. over
weight,
E