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BY W. LEWIS.
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J. S. GRIIRETT, CaSSVBIC.
THE MURDER IN THE ROOM.
From the Note Book of an eminent Philadel
phia Lawyer, lately deceased.
The narrative which I present, I give as I
find it in my note-book. It was taken in
almost the very words of the murderer, though
not committed to writing until the next day ;
for the narrative made a very powerful im
pression on my mind. The disappearance of
the murdered man had excited much conjec
ture as to his-fate : but the general impres
sion was, that he had absconded to avoid hi:
creditors, and his friends .often wondered if
he would return : •
THE MURDEV,ERS' STORY
There were five of us together—constant
companions—fond of women, 'wine, and the
dice-box. We made love in company, got
drunk together, and gambled ft ern the same
purse. A very slender purse it was, too—
but that's not to the point.
There was Harry Pierce and his brothel
Fred—little Tom Needham—Jack Fry and
myself. Harry was impetuous, hasty, irrita
ble, but in the main good-hearted ; his broth
er was cooler, more calculating, and if any
thing a little avaricious. Tom was a true to
per, who enjoyed his glass to the extreme,
and was never happy except when half-di unk ;
and Jack was a kind of hanger-on and toady
of the whole of us. For myself, there was
only two peculiarities worth mentioning,
from their apparent inconsistency. As quick
as a flash, the least angry word would arouse
me to a tempest of ungovernable passion,
which, when subsided, would find me as cold
as ice, and with a mind free to plot and con-
trive anything.
On one evening we had lost a good deal of
money—more than we could well afford—at
poker, and had left the gaming-room in no
very good Spirits. Fred Pierce had not been
with us, or perhaps we should not have play. ,
ed so long, for Fred, unlike the majority of
gamblers, who play most desperately when
fortune is most unkind, invariably stopped
wen . a certain, maximum of loss was arrived
at.
In the morning Fred called to see me, hav
ing heard something about the loss, and was
astonished and angry when he learned the
amount. He remonstrated with me, and
when I laughed at his words, grew irritated.
One word, as the saying goes, brought anoth
er ; we both became angry, and at length he
told me that he thought it an unjustifiable
outrage on our parts to lose his share of the
money during his abscence. I called him a
fool, and he retorted that I was a scoundrel.
In a towering rage, I seized the tongs, which
stood on the side of the hearth, and before I
gave a thought to the conseqtienCes,- struck
him on the head with all the force of which
1 was master. He fell instantly. The next
moment restored me to consciousness, and I
raised him up. The blow had fractured his
skull, and although no blood had ilown—his
thick cap, which he bad not removed during
the conversation, deadening somewhat the
blow—he was evidently dead.
A. moment's reflection convinced me that
one of two things must be done—either to
conceal the body, or to discover the fact, and
proclaim that I had done the deed in self-de
fence. The fear that I could not well make it
appear so to the public, deterred me from the
latter course. I had stated the day before to
my landlady, that I intended to send a box
fall of papers to my uncle's residence in the
country,; and the large packing-box' procured
for the purpose then stood in my room., I
determined to put the body in this, -and thus
dispose of it. As I was about to do this,
I heard a ringirg at the door-bell. Thrusting
aside the window-curtain, I put my head
through the
' window, which was luckily half
hoisted, and saw that my compariions'.of,lhe
night before had come to pay rne:a..visit. I
knew that they would at once, come to my
room, and. take no denial for entrance. In
an instrnt my aourse was' determinedbn. I
hastily dragged the body to the closet,:placed
it upright, and taking my duelling-case from
the place of its usual bestowment, closed the
closet door. - I then threw on my great coat,
put - on my hat, and tossed the chairs in
,con
fusion round.my room.
.1 had scarcely done,
this when heard the steps of the party, on
the-stairs, and as they, entered the room, I
gave a tremendous oath, with every other ev
idence of 'counterfeited passion.
"Hallo !" ekclaimed Harry Pieree, "what
is the matter with you Going out 1"
"I have this moment-come in," said I, "to
get my pistols. I thought Pt] practice this
morning—and some vagabond has been in
my room, and turned everything upside down.
It's too bad, by Jove ; there's a whole pile
of shirts, just from the wash, tossed
_on the
floor." ,
My friends burst. into ; a wild laugh, and
Torn Needham exclaimed :
"Served you right. What business have
you to own so many shirts '1 I have only
one. In fact that was what kept me from
you yesterday so long. I had to lie in bed
while it was being washed and ironed—and
the woman kept it two hours beyond time,
because I owed her a little bill."
"Well," said I, "I wish you'd stop your
nonsense and fix up matters; and we'll go
out and take a crack or two this morning."
"Not with me,'" answered Torn. "It's too
cold for the fingers. Tell'you what we'll do
—we'll have a game of whist. There's just
a snug party ; I wonder where Fred is 1
"I .don't know, said I ; "he - promised yes
terday tt#►come and see me."• '
"I'll bet a sous," cried Jc.k Fry, "that he
was the Rubin Goodfellow who upset your
wardrobe."
"just like him," fzeplied ; "but neverthe
less, I am bent on shooting this morning.)
"So you shall shoot, old fellow," cried Tom
Needham, "so you shall ; and you needn't
cool your fingers either. You leave this old
rat-trap to-morrow, don't you 'P
"Yes."
"Very good. Then we'll give yoUr land
lady, a proof of our solid regard. Here;" and
he took a piece of coal from the hearth as he
spoke—"l'll chalk out the old lady on this
closet door. Load the pistols—it's about
twelve paces from the other side of the
room—and we'll put more balls into the old
feminine, than she puti pepper-corns into
her mock-turtle soup."
A general yell of approval greeted this nov
el proposition, amid which Tom gravely pro
ceeded to sketch what he called a remarka
bly correct portrait of the mistress - of the
house ; and Harry Pierce sat to work to load
the pistols. When Harry had finished, he
claimed the first shot for his pains ; which
Tom claimed for the same reason, insisting
that as he had setup the wind-mill, he ought
to tilt at it. A mock altercation followed,
which was finally settled by a toss up, which
Harry won. He grasped the pistol accord
ingly, and fired.
A noise of something followed. The con
-cussion had disturbed the body, which, in
falling, had struck a side shelf, and overturn
ed some books. We all started. Needham,
however, did not notice it, and presenting his
pistol, fired again, but entirely too low, ex
claiming when he saw the result, "There's a
ball in her ladyship's calf, by- Jupiter."
Harry turned to me as white as ashes, and
said "Did you hear anything ?"
"I did," I replied, "the ball frow•your pis
tol, and be hanged to you,' "has upset some
of my books, I suppose." ,
"Oh, my God I" e'xclairned Harry, "I have
a terrible presentiment. Suppose my broth
er should have hid himself in the closet;!'
And he sank down on the chairas he,spoke-
We gathered round him ; and Tom Needham
burst into a fit of laughter.
"Upon my soul,?' said he, "you are worse
than the baker's daughter." Here' he-cried
in a squeaking tone, "If I were to - be mar
ried, and were to have a little baby, and it
were to Come here and to get into the oven
and be burned to death--boo--boo !" Then
resuming his natural tone, he exclahned,
"You are the most ridiculous foOls, the whole
of you, I ever tsar._ Have you any brandy
in your den 1 I must have a little to-revive
me, after this scene. You'd better give Har
ry some. Lord knows he needs it."
My heart throbbed with a strange delight.
The web of my difficulties was being rapid
ly unraveled—my escape was almost cer
tain ; but what if they should discover the
-RUNT . NO-PON',.:4AY
.2., 1855.
.fracture I walked boldly fOrward ,to..the
:closet, and placing my hand on the catch
knob,. -said ;: "In
. order to - dissipate your
doubt, I will opt - I . :The mystery . ."
spoke I threlV thp.dpar wide.
•_ Mine was an affected - shout, but tnotr,so
that the rest: I'sh'all. 'never flirttel.' the' *Jo
shrielcof despair . . which jeft the be,s } ern — ,Of
Barry, Pierce, as he knelt forward and.raised.
the body of his brother; nor.the terrible tones
- of 'that hoarse whisper,, in `which he said, "I
am a 'forgive:MY. folly !"' and
then-he sank into the-arms •of Tom. Need.
My companions examined the body. The
ball of :Harry evidetVtly gone through
his heart,' The- anSCence •of bloOd -waS -at
once - accounted for by'- - "inward: bleeding,' arid
'as we were examining' the `'VOLly . , we, heard
the shrill.vOice of, our hostess lady' outside
scolding because' we -were firing pistols
'and - shrieking in out room,.
A debate now ensued in. regard to the dis
posal of the dead body. • I knew that the
blow on the head would be discovered, if the
thing was divulged; and I at once suggested
that .we had better bury the body secretly. -I
told them• it could be packed in the long box
which lay there : and that one of us could
meet the conveyance out'of town, take it to
eome'out of the way spot,,where I would as
sist to bury the body.. In the meanwhile,
Needham could purchase a coffin 'and other
necessary materials, as though to send it off
to the country, and at night we could bury it.
Harry Pierce made no opposition - ; he was
incapable - of anything. The plan was•car
ried out as I suggested ; and each parted. The
rest were convinced, and are_ still, that a
brother was the unwilling • murderer of a
brother. Harry died last year 'in a mad
house, and 1 am here. verity year's after,
with gray hairs on my head,-; and an uncloud
ed reputation, to tell you the tale. -
THE POWER OP HABIT :
Or, a Pew Ntrords of Warning,
The power of habit' is, in many cases, irre
.
iadiyiduals are ,at
this-moment rapidly hastening --t0..-the grave,
in conseqUence of the- indulgence of some
vile taste, and who,, fully aware of the, fact,
are still unable .to control or restrain them
themselveri- "They - resolve, and re-resolve,
and die the . same." They have, their . ' mo
meats of sanity; penitenceancl determination
and: such times,. seeing the fatal course
they are pursuing, they reason calmly with
themselves, and promiSe amendment and re
form. But the temptation is too povveaftil, ,
the habit is too fixed, and thus they violate
all that they had determined upon, and rush
on as blindly as ever. This is especially the
case with the
that
of intemperance.—
They, feel that 'they are
,descending in the
scale of humanity day by day,—they know
that a premature grave is before them,—they
determine to abate or abandon the intoxica
ting bowel, but the habit has become a mas•
ter and a tyrant, and they lack the, nerye
to - break , the bonds in which they are bound.
And so, also, with, many other vileihabits.
That of idleness may be referred to. •It
creeps upon the mind and the body slowly,
until= at last it enervates, deteriorates and vi
tiates. The idler fancies, at first, that he
will never come to harm,—that his principles
are too sound, integrity too reliable. Never-.
theless,as the mind relaxes, and the body is
enfeebled,,s,p also does the moral nature lose
its
.firmness,. and become: liable - to .tempta-,
tion . and .to - vice. 'lf the real' histories of the
inniatUs' of . our . alinshouses and our peniten
•
tiaries.cOuld be ascertained., idleness would
be found at the root of many a downward.
career, many -an evil propensity, "and many a
. .•-. . •
fallen -fortune. ,
The habit, of scandal is also base, criminal
and dangerous. It increases with the meat
it feeds It - groWs
. from day in . daY and
front - year to Year, Until, at last, it becomes a
feature of the moral -and social nature.--in
some sense, a-necessity. of existence. And
yef the wreched calumniator , is often unaWare
Of the extent . in . which ,he indulges in 'the
propensity. He.cannot realise his own bit
terness and -recklessness.- of 'thought and
tongue: element. He 'rejoi
ces in its atmosphere, and ,exults in, its vic
tims. ' His appetite is keen and impatient,
he 'seeks for new. "s'ubject's,' 'and is: never at
home or happ3 - 4 :upleSs - some mangled or
bleeding character' .is' writhing ,beneath his
assaultS: Th&pcnalty is dreadful'in the end,
for, sooner of later, in all such cases, the
retribution is at once certain-and fearful.
But the power_of habit ,is • extraordinary
arid almost incredible. A celebrated writer
affirms that '.'tobacco is used among no less
than eight hundred million of men. Opium
and other. narcotics also have .their millions
of devotees. The craving for such narcotics,
and the habit of gratifying it, aye described
as little less universal than the desire for and
the practice of consuming the necessary ma
terial of our common food." What a com
mentary upon habit ! But the story of Cole-
ridge, the, celebrated poet, and, that of De
Quincy, the far-famed English opium -eater,
are still more striking illustrations, and' full
of,admonition; At first, too, the indulgence
in/tobacco isdistasteful. It is used with dis
gustcfand produdes 'nausea._ Nevertheless,
persisted in arid adhere to, and an appetite is
engendered. of the most extraordinary char
acter:: So, too, with regard to. opium. And
so algo in relation to , ardent spirits. There
atefewindividuals who have a natural : taste
for either of these; and yet the acquired taste
creates a habit, which masters not only the
appetite, but the' mind, and absolutely over
whelms the moral nature. An individual,
moreover, on being told at first the danger of
these fascinating soothers and exciters, would
ridicule the possibility of their ever becom
ing a necessity, and would treat fhe,-idea of
'over-indulgence with derision an'd contempt.
Nevertheless, as is well known, the victims
may be counted by thousands, nay, by mill
ions. The slaves of excess in one form or
another, of tobacco, of opium, of alchohol,
net to mention many other tempting narco
tics, may be found in all portions of the earth,
among the rude as well as the civilized,
among the haughty as well as the humble—
in the palace of the prince and in the hut of
the peasant. Such is poor human nature.—
"We are indeed feeble creatures, small in
bolily strength, and a grain of opium will
conquer or a few drops of laudanum lay us
prostrate. But how much ...reaker in mind,
when knowing the evils they lead to, we are
unable to resist the fascinating temptations
of these insidious drugs," And so with re
gard to alcohol. There is scarcely a family
in the land that has not suffered 'or Suffer
ing. Some of the loftiest intellects have
yielded, some of the noblest hearts have' fal
len before the demon of intemperance.—
Homes have been_ made . desolate, fortunes
have been impaired, reputations have been
sullied. This is, perhaps, the .most fatal and
fearful of all the unforthate habits of our
country.. 'Yet it 'is t . but' a habit—one : that
steals upon its victim' like a thief in the night
gradually mastering, controlling, fascinating
and destroying-. It appeals,'
. 1.60, to, all the
exciting and intoxicating senses, and: While
it whispers of Heaven and . its beatific enjoy
ments, it hurries on to thedarkness, the.des
olation, the guilt: and the anguish of that
"lower. deep" from . 'which 'the mind and
the soul recoile with .horror.—Penn Inqui
rer. .
Valuable Hints
We find in'the Scientific American., the fol
lowing article, of really practical value to
the farmer, and therefore transfer it in order
that he may reap the benefit from it. What
the writer says, is- true to the letter, but we
think there' is a better spirit awakening
among,farmers gene - rally ; on the very 'mat,
ters he :refers to, as well as in many others of
equal importance. He says :'
It is many tithes truly surprising to wit
ness how totally ignorant, and unmindful
many people are, of the advantages and fa
cilities there are within their reach, to ren
der them needed aid- in a needful time.—
Many people, and particularly farmers, are'
placed in - circumstances many times, when,
if they were compelled to stop, but for a short
,time, it would be attended with many dimes,
and even dollars, disadvantage and damage
to them ;and when some little article, of on
ly a few cents value, might eventually save a
vast amount of labor and expense. It is no
.uncommon occurrence .to see farmers, who
profess to be very economical in their ex
penses, paying : four or five times as much for
- an.article; or-to-have a broken implement re
paired, as it need to cost him. The truth is,
many farmers ''go blundering along through
the world, with their eyes, as it were, corn-.
pletely . closed against their own interest.—
There are scores of little articles- within the
reach of every farmer, which would often
greatly facilitate, his operations, and save
bolters of needless expenses. I will mention
a few of them.
CARRIAGE BOLTS, from one inch and a
half in length, tp eight
~inches long, well
made, with turned heads on one end, and' a
nut and screw on the - other 'end may be ob
tained at almost every store in the country,
costing only' from two to four and five cents
each, and which are very convenient and
handy, and exactly adapted to the innumer
able uses Of bolts, in repairing a broken im
plement, or in making new ones. Such bolts
farmers must 'have, from some source, and
often a large number of them.; and when
made just when
,wanted, they usually cost
four or five times mere, and often are not half
as good. Carriage bolts are made by ma
chinary, straight, smooth and true ; about one
half the length of the bolt is made square, and
the other round, just as they should be, to
prevent their turning around, when putting
on the nut—with a thread cut on them, and
not worn on by worthlese dies, and with
nuts neatly fitted.
The next article is RIVETS, which may be
,obtained of almost any size and length, at
twelve to fifteen cents per pound ; and in
one pound there are a goodly number. A
common blacksmith wants from six to fif
teen cents for one rivet; and many times
they are often put in so carelessly, and igno
rantly, that they are totally *useless. The
holes for them may be too large : and then
the rivet.is bent in • the stick that it goes
through ; and although the cap and head may
be on good, the rivet does not hug of draw
the parts together as it .should.. There ,are
many parts of implements that must be-riv
eted that are often neglected on account of
the cost ; whereas, if they are bought by the
pound, the expense is trifling.. •.. •
Another very useful 'article is
_BTAi , LEs,
which may also be . had' per pound. But
using them, they should be.annealed,
by putting them in - the fire, when there are
coals enough to heat red hot, and theri alloW
ing them to remain until the fire has gone'
out. This processmakes them very . tongh,
and they will seldom break.
TIRE BOLTS, neatly made, with turned
heads, and-nuts well fitted, are often useful
for many' other purposes, besides fastening
the tire .on the wheels of wagons; they may
be bought two inches and two and a half
long, for one and two cents each.
WASHERS, of all sizes, may be obtained for
twelve to fifteen , cents per pound ; and a
common blacksmith wants six to ten cents
for a single one.
Anothei very valuable article is CUT
WROUGHT NAILS, for only five and six cents
per pound. Cut wrought nails are of quite
recent introduction ; and where they cannot
be Obtained readily, common cut nails will
bend, and the points will clinch about as well
as wrought nails, if they are annealed by
putting them in the fire (when the fire is go
ing out,) and allowing them to become red
hot, and cool gradually. I have always
practiced putting them in the stove at night,
when the fire is renewed for the last time, and
in the-morning found them tough as anneal
ed Wire: ,
It is always best to purchase such articles
by the pound, or. by the dozen.; we inay rest
assured that a few shillings can, be invested
no other way more" economically, thari in
obtaining a supply of these little necessa
ries.
But when will one dispose of a dozen or
two : carriage bolts 1- I will tell when : in
making a strong harrow, put in a carriage
bolt, near every tooth, where there should be
a rivet, and screw it up firmly. A few cents
may thus save a dollar in expense. In mak
ing, or repairing a• cultivator, or a scarifier, a
dozen or so of bolts may tie used very
‘advan
tageously. A broken implement may often
be mended, for the time, if a few bolts were
at hand, and save the time and expenses of
•going miles to the qmith's,shop. In making
a hay rigging, or shelvings for either cart or
wagon, they -are just the article needed ; far
bettor than rivets, because when the timber
.shrinks they can be quickly tightened.-
-There are numerous other little articles,
whiCh cost but little, Which it is well to have
always,on hand. The best of implements
,will often break, or some part give way , and
where a farmer is,perfoeming a piece of labor,
when he can justly recon his time at $5 to
$8 per day—which is, often the case—and is
obliged to stop all• hands and team for the
want of a little litre-penny article, Wisdom
would dictate, that all needful preparation
should be made, before hand, for any Such-
exigency. S. EDWARDS TODD
Lake Ridge, N. Y.
Life in California.
An English writer says, that
'The reason we have so few good roman
ces now-a-days is, that the realities of life
have fairly outstripped the wildest dreams , of
fiction. No novelists can 'sit doWn in cold
blood and invent incidents, or conjure up
spectacles so marvellous as any man can
witness with his own -eyes, will be at the
pains of •going to and fro upon the earth's
surface. The "Arabian Nights Tales" en
chanted our youth, but Faraday and Stephen
son would soon perform conjurations which
would quickly put to shame the pale efforts
of Arab legerdemain. What is the city of
.the Genii to London by night, with its mill
ions of lamps, and its thousands of chariots ?
Sinbad was a poor creature by the side of
the master of the Marco Polo. People no
longer draw upon their imaginations for the
arid wonders of the equator, or the long
drawn torpor of . the Polar night. We go
and examine for ourselves into the marvels
which the candid ignorance of former ages
had connected with secondary enchantments.
A lady sets out upon her travels, and travers
round the world—no less. A discontented
*subaltern quits his regiment for the purposs
of levying war upon the elephants of South
Africa, and trying conclusions single-handed
with as many lions as he can meet. Then,
again, would we see human nature in its ma-
ny phases as it can be seen ; it will no longer
VOL. 10, NO. 46.
suffice to sit - dozing in an easy chair, and to
accept representations of life as they may be
,placed : befcre us by the:Caprice of a popular
author. With - but little outlay of. money,
time, or labor, we May take a run through the
tea districts of China, and amuse ourselves
with the :humors - of the ''natives, catch the
Bushmen in their boles, - hold a palaver with
the leading spirits of the Chffre tribes; try
o'ir hands at reindeer-sledging with the taps
near : Flammerfest, diScuse. the question ;of
polygamy with that pious Mormon who
favorea thd world with nis views upon
the subject in his own hack, parlor, and in
the presende of the three ladies concerned.—;
Why
, :enumerate the' many things' a man
may do,_. and the , strange sights be may'
see,•,.if his feet -ate unfettered, and his
Cariosity active. There is, ' however, one'
particular spot to which we would remit- -
mend any, wanderer to tarn his steps, who'
'may wish to see human nature, as it were,-
in Paris, without the restraints of eiViliia
tion, but with all the facilities for sensual'
indulgence which the highest civilization earl'
afford. Let any man who is interested in
such matters take a short run to California.
The voyage is no great matter. It can be'
accomplished in six weeks or thereabouts ; —
Let ds say a month to the Isthrrns, three'
hours from the Atlantic to the Pacific fermi- -
nus, a fortnight's run up the coast . , and a
traveller would find himself in Sacramento,
or free to direct his wandering steps to that'
part of the country where gold is found.
It is not, however, for the gold, and it is'
not for the picturesque beauties of the coun
try that we recommend the trip; it is because'
human nature might be watched iri its un- -
dress, as probably in no other spot upon
earth. Talk not of savages; they are every
where a set of stupid, apathetic dogs, alike"
with a, difference, from the Esquimaux in
his snow hut, to the negro of Central Africa,
who, having gorged himself to repletion,'
and smeared his ebon paunch With
o copietiS
palm-oil, snores, odoriferous, tinder the shade
of a:single leaf of the-Musa Sapientunt.—
The real thing is to See civilized men tarried'
savages, and that is the sight which Califor- -
nia can show. As we read the accounts of
diggers who have returned to San Francisco
for the purpopp •afiqUaridpririg - in a feW hours,
luxury the gold-Which they had collected at
the hazard of- their lives, and with the toil
of months, we are involuntarily reminded of
- the stories told ofthe last days of the'Palais
Royal, as it was , when the author of Lawn
made it his fervid'. home. Men stagger:in
flushed with success—men stagger out pale
with despair. Either feeling is of equally
short duration. The gains are soon scattered .
to the winds, the losses quickly repaired--
And then, what fantastic sights!' Great hul
king fellows finely plastered with yellow
mud, hirsute, and roaring, in fishermen's
boots, with revolvers and bowie-kniVes stuck
in their girdles, roll into splendid shops, and
cast their massive frames into chairs of red
Utrecht velvet, opposite magnificent mirrors
and desire to be "cut and curled" in the la
test faslat on.
Then they get themselves shampooed;-then
they fall to drinking' champagne out of their
hats, it no more appropriate vessel be at
hand. The same reckless spirit seems to ac
tuate the whole community. A spirit of
"keen competition" has for some time actu
ated the various companies which ply on the
interior waters of California. "Some one to
sit on the-safety-Valve, and all' bands to the
pokers," 'has become the order of the day.
As a natural consequence, the steamer Pearl
was blown to atoms but the other day, by an
explosion of her boiler between Mary's' ille
and Sacramento. There were 122 'persons
on board at the time ; of these sixty were
killed or drowned, and thirty have been se
verely wounded. - ft can't be helped—the
State must, go ahead !. Then, again, San
Francisco is a nice city, certainly ; but one
in which it is not well to stroll about after
dark. Nor is it altogether advisable, if you
should be Unfortunate enough to differ in
opinion from any other gentleman during
your sojourn in that• town upon any point ;
theological, political, - literary, or social to ex
press your dissent in any but alb most guard
ed terms. The fact is, a San Franciscan nev
er walks about without his revolver in his
pocket, and with him it is nut a word and a
blow, but a shot ami no word. The conse
quence is, as per last advices, "we have five
cases of murder, besides thirty other cases of
crime of a serious character, all
, committed
within the litst month in an Francisco."
But, if the town is not without its excite
ments, neither is. country life in California
devoid of its more sedate gratifications.
What would the mild sportsman, who : has
confined himself to the murder of partridges
amid .i .. orfolk stubble, say to the "stalking of
convicts" ! It is a most animating pastime.
We read in our last accounts from this de
lightful region, that a batch of prisoners who ,
had escaped from the'State goal, had plun-