-
J CI IC v!
The whole art op Government consists in the art of being honest. Jefferson.
VOL 9.
STRQ UDSBURG, MONROE COUNTY, PAV THURSDAY, JUNE 21, 1849.
No. 47.
published by Theodore Schools.
f.cfS Two dollars per annum in adranceTwo dollars
f.niiiirtcr. half yearly:
Fn.irtcr. half yearly and if not naid before the endof
W". T,..r !nllar.; tind n half. TIiorp whn rprnivo their
Jrs by a carrier or stage drivers employed by the proprie
P...!! in ohnrsred 37 1-2 cents, ner vear. extra.
T.rtiir. TffO uuiiaia ;
Vo papers discontinued until all arrearages are paid, except
, the option oi me junior. ,
Advertisements not exceeding one square (sixteen lines)
cent
thre'
ff.nt for every subsequent insertion. The charge for one and
'""....Ancihoc-imn 4 lihm-ol lritcRntint made to ce.il-Iv
trill L 1. . . " mi ..1. wn fn. nml
jjjree insertions the same
A 11UVIUI vw-ww---
C7AII letters addressed to the Editor must be post-paid.
JOB PRINTING.
TTirine a general assortment of large, elegant, plain andorna
menial Type, we are prepared to execute every
description of
Cavds Circulars, Bill Heads, Motes,
Blank Receipts,
JUSTICES, LEGAL AND OTHER
BLANKS,
PAMPHLETS, &c.
printed w ith neatness and despatch,on reasonable terms
AT THE OFFICE OF THE
Jeffersouian Republican.
BIMHMgBJIIIIilJlMPMMPMiMMaWMBWaBiMB
Sit Down, Sad Sou!.
Sit down sad soul ! and count
The moments flying :
Come tell the sweet amount
That's lost by sighing !
How many smiles ? a score ?
Then laugh and count no more,v
For day is dying !
i
Lie down, sad soul! and sleep;
And no more measure
The flight of Time, nor weep"
The loss of leisure ; . ...
But here, by this lone stream, l4i.
Lie down with us and dream
Of starry treasure ! ' ' !
We dream : do thou the same i
We love for ever ;
We laugh ; yet few we shame
The gentle never.
Stay, then, till Sorrow dies : v
Then hope and happy skies
Are thine for ever !
An Epitaph.
He died, and left the world behind !
His once wild heart is cold !
His once keen eye is quelled and blind,!
What more I His tale is told.
He came, and, baring his heaven-bright thought,'
He earned the base World's ban :
And having vainly lived and taught,
Gave place to a meaner man !
A Wonderful Drem.
From the New York Despatch
A singular circumstance has this day come to
our knowledge, and though we have some doubts
as to the usefulness of making it public, we can
ibt resist the impulse to do so.
Some months since, a young man was hired by
a grocer on the corner of we are not author
ized to state the street and avenue. He is "the
bun of a widow who lives in the north auburby of
t.ie city, and owns the little house in which she
ves. She has supported herself since the death
of her husband, who deceased some years .since,
tj getting up lace and muslins, and a good deal of
crimping for one or two undertakers.
The young man had not been long in his situa
tion before he discovered that his employer's only
daughter was too pretty for his peace. Her .fath
er had acquired a large property in his business.
and it was well known to his family,-that he would
never consent to his daughter's marriage to a poor
.man.
James S. suited him. very well, but as a son-in-law
he would not have the slightest patience with
Mm. The young man wished very much to keep
his place for the double purposed being near his
charmer and of maintaining himself, and he was
therefore verv careful and verv miserable. He
was comforted at length somewhat by finding that
the girl was as unhappy as himself. A great
many plaus were canvassed by the young couple
tor getting the father's consent, but all were re
jected one after another. The poor clerk became
very much cast down, and his health suffered so
"wch that his moiHer feared that he was going
Wo a consumption.
The tenth of the present month the following
remarkable circumstance occurred ; James S,. re
ared to bed in a very disheartened state, not hav
,ng slept at all for three nigtits. He' soon fell
asleep, and dreamed that he'went hbjrie to see his
bother, who asked him to go into the cellar and
get a piece of squash pie. He thought that he
went down and opened a little grey safe and a
sWe in the wall Jutted out so that . he could not
press baiT-k the cover, .and not being able to push
11 in he duIIp,? it out and throw it awav-As, he'
id so a Bauce pu.aJ wtn" tne Handle broken off
Wite short, met his si'ht in the. cavity of the wall.
pulled it out, operiedifr and found it was full
pf.Ni. A steel spectacle case lay on top of the
money, but he did not open it. He was so much duty. A ship is struggling amidst the terrible con
agitated that he awoke. He lay awake some vulsion of waters : no human aid seems to be a
time wishing that there were witches or fairies, hand; all on board give themselves up for lost,
as in olden times, and then fell asleep and dreamed when something is at length seen to leave the
the dream over precisely as before. He awoke shore, and to bo making an effort to reach' the
the second time, bathed in perspiration and thought vessel. Can it be possible . A man on horse
it vety strange that he should dream the same back! Yes, it is Richard. Hoodless coming to
thing twice. Strange as it seemed, he soon com- the rescue, seated on his old nag, an animal
posed himself to sleep and the third time he accustomed to these salt water excursions ! Oh
dreamed this identical dream. Wheri he awoke ward the faithful beast swims 'and plunges, ,only
the sun was streaming in at the window. He turning for ah instant when a wave threatens to
arose, dressed himself in haste, and in agitation engulf him in its bosom. There is something
went to his employer and told him that he was grand in the struggle of both horse and man the
obliged to go home for the forenoon to attend to
aumc uuaiwca?. - buccess usually crowns the exertions of the horse
He was in such haste that he look a Yorkville and his rider. The ship is reached Hoodless
stage and soon bade his mother good morning. mounts two or three mariners en croupe, and tak-
His mother who is an old fashioned early riser, ing them to dry land, returns for another instai-
had breakfast ail over. ment.
"James," said she, "you will find a squash That a horse could be trained to these unpleas
pie and sortie cheese in the cellar." Her son ant anc hazardous enterprises may seem some
trembled, and his heart beat quickly as he went what surprising. But it 'appears that in reality no
down the stairs. He raised the lid of the safe training is necessary; all depends on the skill and
and the stone jutted out just as he had dreamed, firmness of the rider. Hoodless declares he could
He tried to Dush it back nnrl thpn rmiio if manaoe the most unrulv horse in the water : for
A l4 f'UltU lb UUlj
and there was the sauce pan with the short han-
die. He opened it almost breathless with hope
and fear. It was full of gold not old fashioned
pieces, but good American eagles, halves and
quarters. -
He shut the sauce pan quickly and then put in
the small stone to conceal it, and went up stairs
very calmly, with the pie in his hand. A thought
had struck him. He did not wish to trust his
mother with the secret then.
" Mother," said he, " you want a muslin de laine
dress for winter. Here is four dollars to buy one,
and I wish you would get it while I am at home
for I would like to see it."
The mother was greatly pleased with the pres
ent of the dress, and quite delighted that her son
cared to see it. It was so very kind in him to be
interested in his old mother. She went down into
the city at once to get her dress.
During his
" I
mother's absence, James-examined his treasure,
, '
The steel sDectacle case lav on the too as he had
x ne bieei spectacle ca&e ray on uie top ab ne uaa
dreamed. He opened it arid found in it a paper
which stated that the money was the property of
his uncle, who died in Cuba- four years" ago. He
requested in the paper that the money should be
given to his nephew James S. when he was twen-
ty one, if the uncle did not return. How he ex-
nfrtPrl itwaQ tn hp fWnuprpri rWc rmt nnnpnr
thoI,ah.Tamp'mnthprtoHhimihnt hPrhrnthprhna
u.ij
inuiuiacu iu wine iu iici, uuiuau uuu
T .t, ,t, j
-aluoa 1C aaacc paw. .yiapprui u .u a pa-
per ana wnen ms mother returned he gave her a
half eagle, and with his fortune under his arm,
with a queer exterior, took a Yorkville omnibuss
home'. When he was in his room he locked his
door and counted his money. He had $4,369 50.
He went to his emDlover and asked for a word
wiih him alnno '
"My uncle" said James, "has' left me 4000 As it may hot be generally understood that a smile? Those were not the words of a broth
t . TTnnn horse can be made to perform the office of a life- er bul of a demon. The rattlesnake but knows
ui;itdio. x nam lj uiai i r juui uautiiiiui- j.jlu c i
. . . ... I
""No'ltheieast in the world; and if you would
like lo be a partner in my business,-1' think it will
be aood mvestmenU'
Tvvelve days ago, James S. was moneyless and j
miserable. He is now a partner in a good busi
ness, with a wile in prospect.
He has given his mother two hundred dollars
and bought himself a rig..
Richard Hoodless, iiic Horse-Swim-!
nier.
Had not the subjoined narrative appeared in a
magazine Chambers's Edinburgh Journal fa-
vorabiy known lor its respectability ana cnaracter
we should consider it fabulous. It is marvellous,
to say the least. It reminds us of the old fable of
Neptune driving the chariot over the sea.
THE NARRATIVE.
We supposed we had heard of all sorts of he-
roes, but find ourselves to have been mistaken.
A hero in humble life has been made known to us
r a nOW ror ThJo hmVa mnn h.r rmo
Richard Hoodless, following the'occupatfon of, a
'v o 1
farmer near.Grainthorpe, on the coast of Lincoln-
suire, nas ior many years oevoieu iiiaiben 10 me
saving of mariners Irom drowning, and this with-
out any of the usual apparatus for succoring ships
. m . . I
in distress. Unaided by such appliances, and un-1
accompanied by any living creature but his horse,
HnnHWs tm hPpn th mpanc nf Ravi manv un.
fortunate sailors from Derishinff amidst the waves,
0
Cultivating amall piece of ground, which is,
-
as it were, rescued from the sea, and almost .cut
off from the .adjacent country by the badness of
the roads, this remarkable man may be said to de
vote himself to the noble duty of saving human
life. On the approach of stormy weather he
mount to ariopening in the top of his dwelling,
and there' pointing his telescope to the tumultuous
ocean, watches the approach of vessels towards
the low and dangerous shores. By night or by
dav he is oouaily ready to perform his self-imposed
spirit of unselfishness eagerly trying to do its work.
J
as soon as tne animal finds that he, has lost his
tooting, and is obliged to swim, he becomes as
obedient to the bridle as a boat to its helm. The
same. thing is observed in this sagacious animal
when being hoisted to the deck of a ship. He
Struggles vehemently at first against his impend-
inS fate ; but the moment his feet fairly leave the
Pr, he is calm and motionless, as if knowing that
resistance would compromise safety in the aerial
passage. The only plan which our hero adopts
is' when meeting a particularly angry surf or
swell, to turn his horse's head, bend forward, and
allow the wave to roll over them. Were the horse
to face the larger billows, and attempt to pierce
them, the water would enter his nostrils, and ren
der him breathless, by which he would be soon
exhausted;
In the year 1833 Hoodless signalized himself
hY swimming his horse through a stormy sea to
... . ...
the wreck of the Hermione and saving her crew,
r , . , . . , r. j . ,
r which gallant seryice he afterwards received a
s m.
testimonial from the Royal Humane Society. The
words of the resolution passed by the society on
thls occasion may be transcribed, lor they narrate
a circumstance worthy of being widely known :
" was resolved unanimously that the noble
courage and humanity displayed by Richard Hood-
less for the preservation of the. crew of the ' Her-
Uione' from drowning, when that vessel was
wrecked near the Donna Nook, on the nnnst nf
vit :i . - IJ. j . j t.-
LLincolnsh re. on the 31st of Auemst. 1833. and the
- - - "
iJiaiacwuil"J' ulttl,,,B1 1,1 USttCU me
on that occasion, by swimming his horse through
"cav aea lu ulc WUB " va
possioie to launcn tne itie-uoat, has called tortn
me live,v admmuun 0i tne institution, wmcn is
hereby unanimously adjudged to be presented to
n'm at tne ensuing anniversary festival."
Knot- ttt li a rt iroocolc r F fViot L'inri nnn u rtf ,;tk
-fa.,-bo launched, , he fact of Hoodless perform-
'" " "
n J
aumc uulu.ui, wo aiC uuuiu.cu, uc Bvua
l I If.. t. . 1 i : II.. 1- -
dv nimsen to me wrectt ; uui more usually ne goes
on horseback, and is seldom unsuccessful in his
efforts. About two years ago he saved the cap-
tain of a vessel and his wife, and ten seamen
some on the back of the horse, and others hanging
on by the stirrups. Should a vessel be lying onf
her beam ends Hoodless requires to exercise great
caution in making his approach, in
conseouence
of the ropes arid rigging concealed in the
1
"".
u,.c u.uu u 6mB..w6u iuuuu income-
nience on mis account ; ne naa securea two sea-
men, ana was attempting to leave tne vessel lor
the shore, but the horse could riot move from the
spot. Alter various mettectual plunges, Hood-
Uess discovered that the animal va3 entangled in
tt rul,e u,lue water, vvuai was to db aone
Ahe sea was" m a tumult, and to dismount was
scarce v nossible. Fortunate v he at fintrth ninkprl
up the rope vith his foot, then instantly pulling
. . . .
a kmle irom his pocket, leaned forward into the
? - u wluiy oca
I A .A. . .11. . 1' I
so goi ou wim safety.
AN honor to Farmer Richard Hoodless, who
still in his own ostentatious way, performs acts
of humannty as singular as they are meritorious !
Only by accident have we become acquainted
with ins name and deeds ol heroism, and we could
... ... fi .
not deny ourselves the pleasure of giving them all
...
lhe publicity in our power
KT " Dad who is this Sam Francisco that's
geum an mo guiu upi mere in vaiuoriiy J
u : n .u
niUbl ue me utucai iciiuw in afi mem uiygiuo..
r i aa .
Why, Johnny, I rather think he's some related
to the Sam Jacinto who was killed in the Texan
. c, tt ,
war by Gen. Sam Houston. -
None take renroof so well as those,who most
. a - ,
-. . ii
deserve lo be commended.
From the New England Offspring.
The Wounded Dove.
AN INDIAN TALE.
11 Daughters of the red men, whither have ye
wandered Bj'nce the sun rose and smiled upon
this wigwam. J Behold, his last red glance is
upon the water, yet the brow of Sunny-Cloud
reflects not its ray. And thou Talking-Bird,
what hath hushed thy ever-jdyous voice ?
Tell me, have ye been upon the track of the
wolf to-day?"
Thus spoke the Indian mother to two dark
maidens, who came and rested before her as
ahe rested at sunset from her labor.
Talking-Bird, the younger of the maindens,
replied : ,
" Nay, we were but thinking of a nowly
found friend. We are Bad, because he is of a
race that our mother lores not. Bending-Oak
is a wise squaw. Her words are mild and fear
less as the south wind over the prairie. Sunny-Cloud
and Talking-Bird will tell their tale,
and then listen to the wise words of Bendine
Oak." " The sunbeams had not warmed the stream'
when we entered the canoe to go and seek med
icine hxbs in the great praiiie far down the
river. 'Everything was calm and glorious as
the smile of the Great Spirit. Sunny-Cloud
and I were happy, we mocked the birds that
sang above us, we repealed the wild legends
of our tribe, and talked of all we had ever en
joyed, or hoped to enjoy. So the time passed,
till the moonbeams fell upon our heads and the
burning waters dazzled our eyes. We rowed
into tho shelter of a willow grove, and rested.
As we sat in the canoe, listening to the low
tripples of the stream, and thinking pleasant
thoughts, there came a flash like lightning
through the trees, then a sound, quicker and
sharper than thunder ; and a pretty dove fell
wounded in the canoe beside me. I took the
poor bird and smoothed down its feathers. It
panted for one moment and then its breath was
gone. Just then a hunter appeared under the
shade of a p'apaw Jree. His robes were curi-
lasuronea, anu ne oore upon nis snouiaer
In Inn M nf Ina pnninACI urfll nama TTn m-nno
' . r"hr' rT
not like our cnieitams, lor his lace was of the
u r . T , , . ,,
hue of the January snow, when the yellow sun
shines UDQn . hfa eve wa9 . aR .
depths of the moon-lit sky in summer."
white hunter ! Why does Talking-Bird
use golden words when she speaks of him ?"
said the aged squaw, peering into the maiden'd
lace. 1 he brows ol our young men are like
lne wings of night ; and methmks that the dark
forest girl should admire them more than the
bleached Visages of her nation's foe."
. w v,,
and Sunnv-C oud snoke n her defence.
,t Th . ,. . . , , A . - A
,ajd his bufden upon the grass and spoke to
us as a brother speaks. He smiled upon Talk
ing-Bird, and told her that it grieved him to
have killed a warbler gentle as horself whose
voice was musical and tender as her own
"And did the silly Talking-Bird return his
i i r i' . j t-i
loo wen now to lure tne mocKing-otra. nis
owhchiag, bm he hb a deadly
.. Yet 8ufel this is lrailor .. presU,ed
ounny-oioud. " He spoke ot ni9 home in a
lar.off jan(j a3 beautiful as the hunting-grounds
I ' . O O
0 ouc dea(j warr20rs. And he called us 813
hers, saying that we had one Father then he
laid dazzling ornaments into our baskets, and
promised, before another moon, to bring richer
gills to the wigwam.
" Have ye put the white fo'e oh the Indian's
I ,ral1 8ald lhe 8(luaw angnly. "Doth the dove
ur,eover 118 nesl 10 ine ga"ng eye 01 tne nawKi
o.i: - - i oi.
. , - . ., .T
von iree mat leans irom tne era? across tne
8,ream, A few more alorm8 will howl around
her head d ghe win faj, 5roken and wilhered.
bu1 sne wir ajj rrom a high place. She has
looked over the tree-tops, and seen the tempest
sweeping up the valley, while others stood
quiet nor dreamed of danger. And she can tell
annpic udugnicn, mai in mo uswv '
WI1o man me reu race nave ever oeeu awejn
away leaves oeiure uio wiuiry uiosi. . no
l0"8ue . the Pace hath i two aid .; one is
nri ftmnnlh n nil Ihn nlhnr i like COalS Ot tire.
f f aki Bird jslen8 0- hirrJf her fala will be
like that of the bird" that fell by bis fire arrows.
' '
lt wag ff ,0leir frQm ,he Greal Spirii to warn
,er
' But the Indian girls must not forget to" bo
grateful," appealed 1 alking-liird, who had been
standing a listener. "As 1 stood in the canoe,
r. j .l . ..
'o turn us cuuv uuwu me stream, my oiaunui
i. .1 1 l...U . 1 T FM
WW U"UB. u i e...
I could
have swam to the shore, but the blanket choked
me, and I hung like a reed in the deep water,
l ,or ,ne s,rog "ana oi tne wnue uu mer,
.i -v i . 1 j i
TalIn2rBird,a, Voice miebt never again have
. . , . , , ? , , ,
mingled in the songs of the youths by the wig-
- - 0 i - t u nnrr.A. -
warn nrft Snrp v tuhnn he COflies. Wft mncl
"-v -v . - "-,,. -
r . , , , , , .
The Indian mother's heart almost vie ded,
... Vxnaarti, on hpP hrnx3f ' ,
I IftftW ll&J II I.....W.WM " - - - V...... 11 111 I Miiri
departed, mutiering, Where is the the brave
. . ( r ,
; ii iiri.
that once dwelt in the tent of Bending-Oak ?
He fell long ago iri that distant white village
and the buzzards have picked his btfifes; May
the same fate come upon every one of the mur
dering race. The curse of Bending-Oak U
upon the white wdif, and all who smile on him."
The riext day the aged squaw talked with tho
chiefs, concerning the expected intrusion into
their camp, and besought them, by removing to
the borders of a distant river, to evadw their
visitor. But the girls of the tribe had precede'd
herewith glowing descriptions of the treasurers
which the while trader woultf bring to offer in '
exchange for their ftlrs, that curiosity and av
arice overcame all her warning's and maledic
tions. At the appointed time the boat of Elliott,- the
white hunter, was seen approaching the Indiaii
encampment. He brought" with him a supply
of arms, beads, and such oiher articles as milu
please the taste of his red friertds. His gfts
won for him gruff welcome from the men ; but
Elliott read a warmer one in ihe beaming glau-
ces of Sunny-Cloud and her sister. But when
ever, during his slay, he crossed the path of
Talking-Bird, the keen, suspicious glance of
Bending-Oak was bent upon them. His busi
ness was concluded, and he spoke of departing.
The day was decided, and the evening previ
ous, by some strange coincidence, Elliott and
Talking-Bird were standing side by side, in a
deep woody glen, not far from tho wigwams.
The eyes of ihe maid were humid and sorrow
ful, as she said,
" You leave us too soon, my brother !"
"But Iwill not forget my forest sister. Her
memory will be lilio a sweet song from afar.
May her life be as peaceful and happy as yon
der beautiful stream, that is quietly sparkling
in the long, low sunbeams."
But will the waters be bright when the sun
has ceased to shine upon them ? Talking-Bird's
white brother has become the light of her life.
When he is gone she c,annot be glad, for it will
be dark."
The young man started and trembled at this
confession. His heart had yearned towards the
gentle forest girl, but he had not realized that
the feeling was so deeply reciprocated. He
knew the odium that a connection with hor
would attach to him in the view of his kindred
and acquaintance, but, in the excitement of the
moment, he felt that he could bear it all for the
sake of her guileless love. He would be hap
py with her and let the world take its own
course.
" Will the Talking-Bird go and make music
in the lonely cabin of her white brother 1" said
he 'f the holy man shall make us one, and afar
from both red and white, we wjl! live for each
other alone. Shall it not be so !"
The maiden laid her hand in his and said,
" I will go."
At that moment there was a sudden rustling
something flashed swiftly through the air
Elliott fell to the ground with a deep groan.
An arrow had pierced his breast. In frantic
agony Talking-Bird tore it away, and staunched
the blood with her garments, but the wound
was fatal. The hunter could only whisper
farewell. Just as the word died upon his lip,
Bending-Oak issued from the shade, and mut
tered in a cold satisfied tone,
" The pale demon that would lure the Indi
an fawn from her covert is dead and by a wo
man's hand. Leave his carcass, poor fool, and
learn riot to throw thyself again' upon the coil
of a serpent."
There was a wild stare in return, "but Talk-ing-Bird
heard her not. An arrow had entered
her own soul. Thought forsook its throne; and
she became a quiet, melancholy maniac. The
Indian girls changed her name, and spoke of
her now as the Wounded Dove.1 Day afier
day ghe would wander with her favorite, Sun
ny. Clorid, to the glen where the fatal event oc
curred, and together they would chau'nt many
a low, mournful song. After a few brief moons
had waned, they laid her to rest beneath the
turf where the white hunter fell, and the seclu
ded spot was ever afterwards called the 'Glen
of the Wounded Dove.'
Tlie Age of the World;
Mother Earth, like other ladies of a " cer-
tain age, puzzles ner sons to discover " the
years of her life." The common notion is that
she is some five or six thousand years old;
speaking of her, that is, a's the abode of man.
But what will the old woman say to the editor
of the Ethnological Journal, wHo in his August
number, contending that Britain wa civifoed
country at some remote period aCiter'or D ihe
Roman invasion, coolly obser-.e; "That this
civilization should have no co;flpl0Bly unified
before the days of Cajdr, is no degree sur
prising ; the mightier empires have been ut
terly swept away and the most important his
tories completely forgotten, in a less spa.ee than
nine thousand .years." Yes indeed the world
may be excused, without the reproach of care
lessness, for dropping apage or two of its his
tory in ninety centuries. Scientific American.
Poor Ireland. -The Galway Vindicator,
states as a positive fact that the deathain; lie
Ballinasole workJiouses amounted in ono week
to the frightful number of 860,