BY W. LEWIS. THE HUNTINGDON GLOBE, Per annum, in advance, ,51 50 44 if not paid in advance, .2 00 No paper discontinued until all arrearageS are paid." A failure to notify a - discontintratice at the ex pii•ation of the term subscribed for will be con sidered a now engagement„ TETOIS OF ADVERTISING Six lines or less, 1 square, 16 lines, bravier,- 50-.. 75 100 2 . 66 ti " 1 00 1 50 2. 00 6t, " 1 50 2 25 3 00 3w. Ow: 121 n. $3.00 $5 00 $8 00 5 00 8 00 12 00 7 50 10 00 15 00 9 00 1400, _23 00 15 00 25 00 38 00 25 00 40 00 60'00 1 square, brovier, 0 44 ti 4 " 10 " • TT' Professional and Business Cards net .- ex ceeding 6 lines, one year,- ' $4 50 Executors' and Administrators' Notices, 1 75 Auditors' Notices, -.- ' ..- . 125 THE JIINIATA BY MAX. GREgislE, In eastern climes many a sfrearn, Sparkling in the summer beam,. With arrowy rush, as wildly free, As freakish, fearless in randy, • Or floating, calmly, dreamily, Speeds to its briny ocean-home, And mingles with its surging foam. Biead Nuns, from his mountain-source Descending With imp . etuous,lorce, : ',Flows onward, with,agladsome By pyramid and'mouldering pile; And, where the erst imperial Rome .Sleeps 'neath, ttatja's cloudless dome, - .Gleams,ToEn's yore-empurpled. tide, Asher . (g(11 of regal pride ; Red.fiarites the . GANor,s'- buyilished sea, The pride of sordid' India.; , And sacred SORDA.N rr.oans,along. ' • Seared vales' that.echoeddsraers song, ; . tylcbu rellects4he,golden' sheen • Glimmeribg.the pendant boughs between, Th,o? vanished *Egy,p,Y.S beauteous 'queen, Nor warrior Grecian Comes to, lave, His fever in.the-liMpid wave;_ Cool is the glittering, current the unriVale'cl , Ara swee,,,emhoWering roses gren, • Where ,its'Olv.ery Waters floW,, „ UticonsCiouS - Of - Of lfci4 items atirma'ssy,odd, That ren ji,have embe.Wele7l,, far Below the pillared CHILMI.:si.IjI A'nd.'nea:th the:bleak:. l',a,rnassian Must - nuts' the. farmed CASTA_Li.I 3 N."ri ":NoWSlone, 'th enailil hatln.ted,streaip, ;That . wcive'th . e - poet'Sjorgeonsdreatn._ • But, dearer. than those - rills .- 4' SWeetly:ur - ned in'classie, lore;, Brighter-than the 'radiant. Sparkling in tt:ie suribean, rint'ver, Ts eny green forest stream to me,' _ 1 , The JUNIATA, clear aria free, - _ - As wildly past my boyhoiid's borne - - She dashes in her pride of 'fbam; - Down .the mountain's rough- facade, ;u in mangy - a rainbow-bright cascade, _Down from the proud and cloudy- heiTit, ..Where first her wavelets kissed the light; And lovely'is her .Through. Sabbath-dells that smile below ,Until;.a merry, loving Ur'de, ...:Witkislelerowned Sus2uEn4 . 4 wide,. She links her cliamond4laShing,tAe., • , 11right. river of my:young:Lie:li is home ! f love thy wood=g,irt banks 'to roam,. Through all the long, warm summer'.days, Dreaming of glory's bloomy- bays And when . night'sSpell like curtains close, And drape iho"-woritf in calm 1 love on thy moss-brinkio lie, Alone, beneath the starry sky, _ For, in the stilly moonlight clear, Thy rippling, in my' spirit's ear, Is fraught with a thrilling sound, Like that which stirs the air around The fal?led fount, with 'Whose glad shout A.strange, 'Sweet symphony rings but:-- A warbling,.softly musical As that heard in TitiMin's hall, oa,sorne,blithe fairy festival. Oh ! when theie brilliant hours sweep by, -And siorm-clouds pall' my mental, sky ; When hope's nepenthe-power is dead; . And.chilldespair.glooms o'er my head— If such black hours :of curse and - blight, Plutonian future veils .from sight— . Then; -may ['slake my fever-thirst ; Where thy. pure tribute-foun tiets burst, And bathe iu thy fresh-gushing fioodi., My throbbing brain-anal rushing blood; And, when life's fitful dream is done,. May those who watched my orientsun, En the - fond•bower of earliest years,• ' 13edew, my grave'l,vith loving tears_ 1812 [Vrcitil,thoLondon - Weehly Clirbnicle.] JULES GERARD, THE LION KILLER. THE LIFE AND,.ADVENI'URES OL J,u,i.:ES GE- Rano, LION KILLER. Comprising his Ten Years Campaigns aihring_the Lions of Northe - rn Africa. The race of.:Nimrod ; is not Yet extinct: 'The old hereditary .instinct of destructiveness has survived, the,. wreck of ages, - 'and as liv ing and ruling' in modern days., "In England, its finest developement of late haS been'in the person of Gordon Cumming ;. in Eranee - ,the result is Jules Gerard: Gerard is'a.Frerich man, in his earliest youth he was a: fire-eater. boy ,at a Village reaet saw' - a' huge 'giant; like ruffian,- ill-using'a woman, a crowd Stood, around them, looked on in silence, and no, one interfered.' The bop. stepped between the woman and lier:tyrant, and said 'to the latter, "You aro. a coward, leaVe this woman in peace, or I shall 'knock you' down On:, 'the spot." The mats was beaten by the ,boy.-- Jules Gerard of courSeivas the boy., .‘ There were live lions in France—contemp tible fellows: Our hero soon extinguished their lilliputium roar, any; looked - round and sighed for a grander field. Accordingly he •tF: • .;•i•y . - • Af•-:••• • •• • 2 ins. 3 ins. 371- 00 1 -insertion. joined the Spahis, and landed:at Bone, in Al geria the 19th of June, 1842. Gerard soon wearied'of 'ordinary life. There were lions in Africa—terrible ones to devour as well as roar—very different to the good,natured fel lows shot by Gordon Cumming. Lions that routed and desolated whole Arab settlements. Gerard resolved to war with them. He was called to this life by the highest motives. , It was no sordid love of fame or gain that actu ated him... On the contrary, he was, but .an instrument in the hands of that Providence by whoin his life Was upheld to deliver the Arabs from their most dreaded foes, and to advance the causeo, civilization and human ity. For ten years,Gerarcl,.pursued,,this life, bearinginimmerable hardship, meeting with innu'mdrablc - adventures,:surrounded by in numerable dangers, yet always victorious, and at length crowned with the laurel,wreath of fame. The English translator is of an enthusias tic' disposition. He has had an interview with the Lion-killer, 'lt seems 'to me hardly possible,' writes the editor, who modestly writes his'riame under the obscure initials, 'T. W. M.' "that those delicate and slender hands, Which - he crossed before him after the inannerof the Arabs, had, really gives the deathl46v te,so many of the Litherto mounr'elts2Of - the Atlas, and it was riot until d had exarnined;'as closely as courtesy permitted me to do, his long and sinewy arms, erect port, clear and ,expressive eye, and a certain mixture of modesty and self confidence, that I was able to recognize in him the greatest of all hunters since the days of Nimrod, an the man who has confronted, with calm and- reflecting courage, during a long series of years - , more been dangers than perhaps have ever been encountered by any other being, warrieroi sportsman, living or dead." The only comment nn this would be a favorite exclamation of orie of the heroes in the "Vicar of Wakefield." But Jules Ge rard .sttall 'speak for himself. We'extrant 'his first: ENCOUNTER 'WITH A LION They - had scareely- - gOne ten paces, when a most formidable'roar resounded in the ravine tour very-feet: This•roar filled, my heart with SG much joy, I , hat,-t orget ling the unfor tunate state of my gun, and without caring whether =-I 'was followed' or not, r dashed throno . h=the-wood in search of the lion. When I-ceased to hear- him, - I stopped to listen. Bou-aziz and Bou-oumbask 'were up on my heels, pale as ghosts; not daring to speak, but gesticulating at a .great' rate, to make me comprehend , that C was. sacrificing my life. few minutes after the lion roar ed again, at about a hi:inched paces: from us; and, at, the geryAcst' growl [,dashed forward, rushing though the wged with lite impetuos, ity'ot awild,animal.. • WheA the lion-ceased to roar, I halted again ina Small glade,,where my Iwo- companions joined me. My dog, who until then had kopt behind me, without seeming to compre hend, began to snuff' the wind ; then he en tered thewood . cautiously, with his hair brist ling and his'ta . minute after he came galloping back much frightened, and crouch ed down between my legs; Boon after heard loud and heavy steps on the leaves Which covered, the ground, and,the rustling of a huge body though the ,trees border;in,g the glade. It was the lion hirnself leaving, his lair, ,and ascending- to-, ward as i „.'with out, suspecting our presence.— Bou-aziz and the spahi were already should ering their guns. I then pointed out to them with rny foot a lentife'sorne•paces., behind rue, telling them riot to,stir,fror.n,that spOt rmtil the end of the .drama,.rtienmpand which they did not fail to obey=.. Indeed Imust give these worthy fel mtich credit for persisting in staying by me, notwithstanding their extreme terror ; for judge it as you please, I, for my, part, think' it no mean courage, when you have your doubis about the success of an adven ture, to.accept tire passive part of spectator, and to remain unmoved on the scene of ac tion. . • , The lion was still ascending; [ could now measure the distance which separated me from him and could distinguish the regular, - rumblind sound of his heavy breathing. - I then ads;anced a few paces nearer 19 the edge of the - glade where I expected him to appear, in order to have a chance of., shooting him closer. I could already hear him advancing at thirty races, then at twenty, then at teen ; still [.felt no fear. All I thought was, suppose he, were to turn back I . Suppose he does tioi come into the glade !- And at each sonrid which showed him nearer to me, - my heart beat lender,. in. a complete rapture ,of joy and hope. - Ono anxious thought -only crossed my mind . . "What if . my gun were t 9 miss - fire 1" said 1, glancing down upon it. But confidence again.prevailed, and ,my only anxiety was fo,rthe long-wished for appear-, afice of my foe. The-lion after a short pause, which seem ed 'to • me an age, began to see forward again; and,presentlY I could see . before me, by the sfae.dight„at but a few* papes.ofF, the top' - 'of a small - tree, - which I could almost touch, - actually shaken by the contact of the lien.: This was his last pause. •There was now between us two but the thickness of that single tree, covered with branches from the foot upwards.. I was standing with my face to the wood, and with my gun .pointed, so as to be ready to fire. the moment the animal shOuld enter the glade; and having still an interval of about a second, I took advantage of it to make sure that ,I could :properly regulate the. aim of my barrel. Thanks to a glimmer of, light which came from the west, -to the clearness of . the - sky. filled - With. shining stars, and to the whiteness of - the glade, which was. con-, spiCuous against the dark green of the forest, I 'could jiist • See the end of My barrels, that was all,. but. it sufficed. for so close an aim.— it necessary, to say that I did not waste much tinaelin thisinVestigation. T was beginning to. find • that the animal was rather sloW in his, motions, ,and to fear that, instead of advancingurisuspicionsly, he 'had become aware of my preeence, and was about to spring. over the lentisc which separa ted us. As if to justify this fear, the lion , ~. -, , ,,t , . • ,-. 1-,. " /'....,-I.:' . 4 ;, ' % ok *, . HUNTINGDON, gave two or three deep growls, and then be gan to roar furiously. Oh,! my fellow 'disciples of Saint Hubert ! you, who can feel , and understand, fancy yourselves,at night in the open forest, lean ing against a small tree, out of which rises a volley of roars enough to drown the noise of thunder itself.- Irna,gine yourselves with only one single shot to fire on this formidable ani mal, who only falls by the merest chance un der a single ball, and who kills his opponent without mercy, if he is not killed himself. You can doubtless understand that, had trusted to my strength-alone, my heart would have failed me;- in spite of my efforts, my eyes would have become dim, and my hand unsteady. Yes; I will confess frankly and without shame, that terrible roar made me feel.that man was small indeed in the pre sence of the lion ; and without a firm will and that absolute confidence which I deritied from the inexhaustible Source of all power, I believe I should have failed in that awful-mo ment. But this strength enabled me to lis ten to the tremendous voice of my enemy without trembling, or even emotion; and to the end I retained a perfect mastery over the pulsations of my heal t and a full controlover my nerves. When I heard the lion make a last-step, I moved a little aside ; and no sooner did his enormous head rise out of the wood, at two or three yards•distance from' me, and he stop ped to stare at me with a look of wonder, that I aimed between the eye and ear, and slowly pressed the trigger. From the instant I touched this, - until f heard the 'report of the gun, ray heart ceased to beat. After the shot I could see nothing ; but through the smoke which enveloped the lion heard the most tremendous, agonizing, and fearfully protracted roar. My two men meantime had jumped up, but without ma king a step forward, and unable to see any thing, stood with their guns shouldered, rea dy to fire. For myself, I whited dagger in hand,•and one knee on the ground, until the smoke should disperse, and I could see how matters stood. As soon as all was clear - I beheld=first one paw—and heaven's, what a paw !—then one leg, then a shoulder, then a head--and, at last, the whole body 'duly eo'-, emy. He lay on his sidei_and-gave not the smallest sign of life ! 'Take Care, do not appro'ach hiin yet,' cried Bouaziz, throwing a large stone, which boun- . ded frOm the lion's corpse ! HE *AS DEAD ! That day_ was the eighth of July, one thou sand. eight hundred and forty-four. Independently Of the story of his encoun ters with lions, Jules Gerard gives the reader some interesting reading relating to the Arab tribes, and the mode in which the French civ ilize their Algerian dependencies. Religious —deeply religious—as our hero is, - it never occurs to him that there is anything wrong in the French possession, 'or right in the na tive rebellions. He considers the mountain warfare great honor to the French troops, and rapturously tells us, It is a grand and imposing spectacle to see one of our columns driving away a herd of forty thousand head of every species of cattle, the fortune of a whole tribe, with the tents,• baggage and fur niture.' Whilst • Lion-hunting, as well as romantic adventures met with, Jules Gerard heard some romantic tales—one relates to. SEG/UR AND HIS DIZIDE. About thirty years ago, a young man; named Seghir, belonging to the tribe of the Amamera, established in the Acres mountains fell in love with a young girl who had been refused to him by the father on account of his pov erty. The young people, however, were much attached 'to each other, and one fine evening the young girl ran away with her lover. The distance being eonsitierable between the two douars, and the road extremely peril ous, Seghir had armed himsele - From head to foot. Already the most damzeidus parts of the road had been passed, and they were be ginning to hear the dogs of the douar towards which they were rapidly' advancing, when all at once a lion, who till that moment had lain concealed behind - the bushes, rose and walked straight towards them. The'young girl shrieked so fearfully that she was heard by 'the people in the tents, and several of the men immediately seized their. arms and rushed.out to the rescue. When they reached the spot to which they were directed by the screams of the young maiden, they saw the lion walking slowly a few paces in fron Lof Seghir with his eyes steadily fixed upon him, anti leading him thus towardS the forest: The young - did . all she could to prevent her lover following the lion,'Or to induce him to let go his - hold of herself, but in vain : he kept dragging her on in spite of all her efforts, sayinc , : dd Come, my beloved, come, our master will' have it so, we must go!" " But our weapons," she cried, " what are they good for, if not to save me P' ' "Weapons !--f have mine,' answered the fascinated Wretch. ' Great Lord, believe her not - she lies ; I am perfectly unarmed,. and will follow you -wherever'you will !" At this moment the Arabs, eight or ten in number, who had come to the rescue of the unfortunate couple, perceiving that the lion would very soon draw them into • the forest, fired every one of them - upon him ; but on finding that he 'did not fall, they took to their heels. The lion sprang upon Seghir, and with - one bound crushed. him to the earth, smashing his head at a bite; after which he lay down by the side of 'the young girl, pla cing hiS huge paws upon her knees. The Arabs, now finding that the lion did not condescend to, pursue them, took courage and returned, and havino• t' reloaded their guns, prepared again to fire; but being afraid of killing the girl, they told her to try and get a little away from the lion, which he allowed her to do, without, however, losing sight of her, The next moment the guns of the Arabs were leve!lednt•him, the lion sprang into the midst of them, seized one of them with his teeth and two otherS with his claws, dragi ainc, them thus together so as to make, as it were, one bundle; then placing under him MAY 28, 1856. that mass of palpitating flesh, he instantly smashed the three heads, as he had done that of Seghir. Those who had escaped ran off to the dollar, and related what they had wit nessed, but no one was bold enough to return for another attack. The lion then seized the woman and carried her off into the forest. Next day they came to carry away the bodies of the four men ; as to the young girl nothing was found but her hair, her feet, and her clothes. . - 'ls it then really true that the lion has the power of fascinating the weak organization of certain men to the extent of obliging them to follow him All I can say is, that every Arab [ have interrogated on the subject has answered me in the affirmative, and quoted a number of examples in support of his asser tion. As for myself, I can only say that when ever I have had the honor to find myself in the presence of this great monarch, I never felt the least inclination to follow his royal steps, though I can quite understand how his threatening aspect, his kingly majesty, and the piercing fixedness of his fiery look, should paralyze the heart and brain of those who meet him unexpectedly. • • Another is THE MARRIAGE OF smut. Amonti t' the Arabs, where a high tent' man marries. he invites a number of people, who go - and fetch the bride at her parent's house to her new dwelling, a ceremony which is performed in a palanquin, numberless huts being at the same time fired on the road. Every marriage, however, is not alike. .If some are accompanied by a numerous retinue; if; sometimes, the happy, couple number amongst their guests many a rich and hand some horseman , at 'other times, as with us, more than one bridegroom has not even enough to pay the fiddlers who escort him.— Such being the case with Smail, who had paid down the day before his very last shilling, for his bride's marriage portion, he assembled only his nearestrelatives, and proceeded with them on foot to the abode of his future father in-law. 1 . -laving regaled themselves plentifully with mutton and couscoussou, and the marriage being concluded, they fired off a few • cart ridges by way .of salute, taking care to keep a few for the journey back. There was no signing of the marriage contract,- for the very. simple reason that none of the assistants knew how to write; and in the evening they all. parted, ' wishing each other good fortune and happiness. The bridegroom's douar was but a league distant ; the moon shone beautifully bright ; the bride's escort numbered nine duns; what was to be feared on the way 1 B7it 'it is not uri frequently at the very moment one expects him the least that an intruder will . present himself. Smail was walking in front, beside his bride, to whom he was speaking, in a soft, low voice, about the happiness which await ed them under his tent. The friends of the husband were following discreetly some paces behind, firing at times a shot in the air; and the young wife seemed quite gratified. with this little offering of powder burnt in her honor. ' But all of a sudden, a jealous individual— the devil—who had not been invited, and who delights in mischief, presents himself under the shape of an enormous lion, stretched across the very path these happy young folks were pursuing. ' They were' about half way between the two douars, and it was fully as dangerous to go forward as to draw back. What was to be done? The opportunity presented to the bride, groom of winning forever his wife's affec tions by a noble act of devotedness, was too good to be lost. Balls were accordingly ram med down the barrel of every gun, the bride was placed in the centre of a sort of square formed by the' assistants, and the escort marched bravely forward, headed by Smail. Already they had advanced to within thirty yards from the lion, who never moved. Smail now ordered his friends to stop, and saying to his young wife, 'See now, if you have married a man," he walked straight up to the lion, and commanded him to clear the way. At twenty paces the lion,.until then crouch ing and motionless, raised his monstrous head, and was evidently preparing for a. spring. Small, regardless of his wife's screams, and the entreaties of his relatives, who called to him to retreat, put one knee to the ground, levelled the barrel of his gun to wards the animal, took a steady aim and fired. In an.instant the wounded and furious animal -bounded forward on the unfortunate knOcked him to the ground, and - tore him to shreds in the twinkling of an eye, then rushed madly towards the square, in the centre of which stood the wretched bride. ' Let no one fire,' cried Smail's father, ' un til he touches the barrels of our guns.' But, added the narrator of this episode, where is the man sufficiently self-possessed, to await without flinching that hurricane called a lion, 'as he rushes on towards his prey with immense bounds, with mane float ing in the wind, with expanded jaws, and in flamed with fury?. The whole party now fired at once, without heeding in what direction their balls went, and the lion dashed on the square, which he quickly overthrew, smashing the bones and tearing the flesh of all he found before him. Some of the men had managed to escape, dragging after them with much difficulty the poor bride, - almost dead by this time with fright, but . they were quickly followed by their insatiable enemy, and torn to pieces ; one only, more fortunate than the rest, hav ing contrived to reach the foot of a steep rock, upon Which, thanks to his efforts, the woman also found a refuge. He had already climbed the rock some little way, when the lion again advanced, if possi ble, still more furious, and at one spring caught the right leg of the man, and dragged him down with him to the ground; while the unhappy bride, crawling with hands and feet to the summit of the rock, was doomed to witness from her inaccessible retreat the woful. and hideous spectacle of the death agony of the last of her defenders. After two or three useless attempts, the lion, finding that he could not get at the wo man; returned to the body of his last victim, and began tearing it to bits, as if to revenge himself for the loss of his last living prey, which was thus eluding his grasp. The remainder of the night passed away without any new incident. As soon as the day began to dawn, the lion left the foot of the rock, and retired towards the mountains ; but he wen to ff very slowly, and did not final ly abandon his post without Stopping more than once on his road, and - throwing hack a wishful glance on the prey he was leaving behind. A short time after the animal's departure, a troop of horsemen came across the plain, and on Small's widow making signals of dis tress with her veil—for she was now without strength of voice—they galloped towards her, and took her back to her father. The poor thing, expired, however, on the following clay. I will spare the reader all the exclamations, the bad names, and the insults, which were showered on the devoted head of the lion, nt the close of this story, the recital of which lasted far into the night. Again, we have a good tale told by himself of the life of an ARAB ROBBER. Mohammed-ben-oumbark belonged to a tolerably rich family, which had been strip ped of all its property by the chief of that country, before the French occupation. Af ter the death of his father he found himself with no other fortune than a young and pret ty wife, a tent in very bad condition, and a beautifully sharp yatagan. . . icWith this," said he, showing. it to his bet- ter half, " I will procure you a fine tent, num berless flocks, and make you as rich as those who 'robbed us of our patrimony." And" without delay he set to work. The French troops destined for the first ex pedition to Constantine, were at that time ga thering at the camp of Mejez-amar ; and as all the surrounding tribes were as yet unsub dued, the officers were much at a loss to pro cure mules. Mohammed-ben-oumbark saw this, and determined to furnish them. With that boldness which never forsook him,- he presented himself at the outposts, was arrested, and brought before the com manding officer. There he at once declared that he belonged to an unsubdued tribe, but that - he offered his services to the French, and engaged to furnish them with all they want ed in the way of saddle horses and beasts of burden. His apparent-frankness pleased the officers; his offers were accepted'; and the very -next day he proved, by the delivery of a fresh supply, what he was capable of doing From that day he received regular orders, exactly as if he had large stables of his own. They had but to name the age and color of the horse wanted, and the next day he made his appearance with the animal. To answer all these demands, Mohammed used to practice sometimes on the Arabs, sometimes on the Kabyles. The former tie their horses with a rope fixed to the ground by two pickets, inside or outside the tents, but oftener outside; and the way to steal a horse is to get at them un seen, and to retire in the same way. It may be conceived that this is not the easiest thing in the world, especially in a camp peopled by a number of dogs, ever on the watch but this was only child's play for our robber. The trick was still more difficult to perform with the Kabyles, who live in.houses orgoor bis, closed with doors end without windows. The way in which Mohammed precepOed with the latter was as follows : With the agility and cunning of a cat, he ascended to the roof of the house in which was the beast he wished to secure. After ma king a sufficiently large aperture he let him self- down into the only room, to the immi nent hazard of dropping, like a bad dream, oh the very stomach of the master of the house. Once introduced, he felt. about for the fire place, blew up some half extinguished em bers, so as to be able to direct his movements, opened the door, and Marched off with the animal of his choice. if one of the inhabitants seemed disposed to wake up, Mohammed quickly laid close to him, snoring as if he had really been a mem ber of the family. If the sleeper fairly open ed his eyes, oh ! then, woe to him ! the ya taghan played its part, and closed them for ayer. One night, wh;le he was busy blowing up a brand of half burnt wood in the fireplace of one of his neighbors, who had the unpardona-. ble impudence to possess a horse much too handsome for him, a sound of - voices was heard outside ; and some one knocked at the door.--instantly the three or four men who were in the room jumped up, but whilst they were hesitating •in the dark and counting themselves, Mohammed, changing his voice, said cooly: "Don't disturb yourselves, I will go and see who comesthere." At the same time he opened the door, and perceiving two horsemen who had already dismounted—, ;;Be welcome," said he to them, pray walk in, and I will take charge of your beasts." The strangers accepted the invitation, and tha robber, vaulting rapidly ort one of the horses, and taking the other by the reins, called out to the proprietor of the house— . "I say! such a one! take goad care of your guests, my boy; and pray tell - them that Mo hamthed-ben-onmbark has taken charge of their horses." ~So saying he put spurs to the horse and vanished. - Things, however, did not always go on so smoothly; and dining the course of his stor my career, my honorable friend has suffered by fire or by steel more than enough to dam age irretrieveably the skin of any honest man. One day I asked him how the lions, which he must necessarily have met in the night more than once had behaved to him; be re plied with enthusiasm— 'The lion is all! man is nothing! The lion is strong, the lion is courageous; the lion alone knows how to kill, and to inspire respect and , ;;,.;? il';' ..'. -;,. ;.,• ' •;:; . e..-; . • ...,', ... . ri?...',',', . •:-.....! :.'", : j • . ::' ;.. ;1:: : . :.'1' . 4' . 1:: : :::::: '. " : 1 I .•:;.::.,:,, V , 1.F,..%' . VOL. ll, NO. 49. fear! Men," he added, 'should be governed by a lion.' Then you never had any occasion to com plain of him? ' - 'Never!' said Mohammed, 'on the contrary ; he has very often assisted me in my nocturnal expeditions, by throwing terror and disordei among the inhabitants of the douar which was about to plunder. Whilst he was killing on one side, 1 was stealing on the other!' • 'lt is true that whenever I happened id meet him fasting, and he has invited me to divide with him, I never refused him. On one occasion only I found him unreasonable. It was'on the eve of the Eladkebir. As ev ery proper Mussleman is • expected to kill a sheep on that day, I, who am not fond of see ing my flock diminish, had gone and ballot* - etrone in a neighboring douar, and was re turning home with my booty across my shoul ders, when I met a lion. lord,' I said to him, 'this time lam exceedingly sorry for it, but you cannot have my sheep; I must keep it for to-morrow—the great feast.' 'The lion, pretending , not to understand, was becoming more and more pressing; upon which 1 left the path to take refuge in a cav ern, which I knew of close at hand, intend ing to wait there until daybreak, and then proceed on my way. 'Before entering, the grotto, I looked be hind me; the lion had disappeared. But knowing my gentleman too well to believe that he could be far away, at the end of an hour I thought I had better take a peer, at what was going on outside. I had reached the entrance of the cavern with great precaution, holding on each side with both hands, and bending my head cau tiously forward, when I felt myself violently caught at the hood of my burnous, and I had just time enough to disengage my head, not to be lifted fairly up into the alt. The lion, in short. who bad laid himself dowr. on the top of the rock, had stretched out ore of his huge paws like a cat, and seizing hold of my burnous, had begun to tear it with his teeth; giving sign of anger. In I hurried again, and threw out the sheep he had set his mind upon, and on which he darted immediately, without theleast scruple; more than this, he had the extreme indelicacy to devour it under my very eyes; and when at last he thought proper to decamp, with hid stomach full, and without even condescending to turn round to say 'thank - you, leaving on one side the reeking remains of his supper, and on the other the bits of ray tattered bur nous, the day was just beginning to dawn. 'He had not left me time enough, the thief!' to go back to my neighbor to take another sheep; so that, on returning home, I had to pick out and kill one of my own flock, as ev , ery good Moseelman is bound to do on such a day. It was the first time; since I became a man, that I had been driven to such an ex tremity, and the lion alone could have forced me to do so.' Jules Gerard is still Eying, and still in Al geria, we believe. The Lost Children. The dead bodies of the two lost childretic of Mr. Sam. Cox, of Redford county, which we mentioned in our paper of week 'before last, were found on Thursday last, about five' miies from their parent's residence. This is the most painful, the most heart-rending inci dent it has ever been out lot to chronicle. The dwelling of Mr. Cox is in the edge of a dense mountain forest, near the line of Bed. ford and Cambria counties. These poor, hap less children, boys, one upwards of seven, and the other a little over five years old, fol lowed their father, who had gone a gunning, and penetrating the woods top far, must have become bewildered, and were linable to re:, trace their way back. Hundreds of men, day after day, and night , after night, pursued the most, diligent search• for them, but were unable to find them until the fifteenth day, .when their young forme_ were discovered side by side, cold in death„ From the time they were lost, nava the day they were found, the weather was most incle ment and severe for the season. What scope of territory they had traversed, or how long they had suffered, can only be conjectured. No pen can portray the mental and physi cal suffering of these poor, lust; wandering babes. Wildly had they toiled over the rug-- ged mountain crags, crossed streams which were supposed to be impassable by them,. till hope had given way to despair,.and worn out by toil, exposure and starvation —with. frenzied cries of agony, clasped in the last embrace of affection, they laid dowo to per ish in the wilds of the mountain, out of hearing of the acute listening ears, and out of reach of the noble hearts and. strong arms which vainly sought to succor them, Oh I terrible indeeed, must have been the hours of anguish of these two innocent yoong hearts, while for days and nights, alone in the deep gloomy recesses of the wilderness, the cold howling blasts smote fearfully upon their. panic strict?. en ears, and the .6.eace driven rain poured ruthlessly upon their tender, unprotectecr frames. And who can realize the•agony the Intense anguish which must have lacerated- the hearts of the parents during their terrible suspense. Fearing for the safety of their innocents, yet- trusting in their deliverance, till time had abandoned all hope of their rescue ;. then the moat fearful tortures of anguish, the extre, mast sorrow must have filled• their souls, The mental agonies, the tortures- which . wrung the breasts of the stricken parents, in their severe trial, should have aroused ttfa-" sympathy of the coldest heart,but appeanif' their cup of bitterness was p 0 ys,t lull, 'for before the recovery of the children, a bean : . less wretch, in whose bosom there flow one drop of the milk of humans kind. mess, with the effrontery and bitterness, of p, demon, charged the father wish havitto.mur,.• dered his children. This /Oman monster, . so destitute of every manly attribute, so void of every coble impulse, suld have beep by some manly arm smitten his tracks. We are pained—our heart sicens to an nounce the prevalent rumor, that tilt stroke was too severe for the unhappy mother. 31:0;# is now bereft of reason—a raving maniac,. El
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