NEW SERIES, VOL. I, No. 25.]
WESTBROOK & SPANGLER,
EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS,
Printing Office—Front Street, opposite Darr's Hotel.
.Publication Office—Locust Street, opposite the P. O.
COLUM MA. SPY is Pnblished every
Saturday morning at the low price of ONE DOLL Alt A
YEAR IN ADVANCE, or one dollar aid fifty cents, If
not paid within one month of the cline of subscribing.
Single copies, THREE CENTS.
TERM/. Or ADVlVlMPlNO—Ailvertleennente not exceed
ing a square three times for gI, and 25 cents for each
additional insertion. 'those of in greater length in pro
portion. irrA liberal discount made to yearly adver
tigers.
Jon PRINTINII Snell an frand-bills, Posting-bills,
Cords, Jabots, Pamphlets, Blanks of every description
Circulars,etc.etc.,exccuted with nealnessandilespatch
and on ceasonabiet erne, _
A vigorous prosecution of the War, the best means
to secure a speedy and
HONORABLE PEACE.
No. 42. , A , No. 42.
Front St. \ k (f s6o*ck • tt ' W - 4 . 4" cl-. Front St
WALNUT COLONNADE,
CHEAP FASHIONABLE
CLOTHING EMPORIUM.
Iznaz 1233.22zatmr.
O. 42, Front street, directly opposite the
N
Bridge, and three doors below Black's Hotel,
COLUMBIA, PENNA.,
Would respectfully call the attention of the public
to his stock of Fashionable and Cheap Clothing,
which exceeds in extent, elegance, and variety,
nny hitherto opened in this vicinity, and which he
pledges himself to sell at prices lower than even lie
has before offered. Just look at the prices:
Gentlemen's Fine Cloth Dress
Coats, from e 5.00 to $lO.OO
Gentlemen's Fine Cloth rrock
Coats, from 4.00 to 10,00
Gentlemen's Firm Clotle Sacks
and Goatees, from 2.50 to 5.00
Gentlemen's Fine Cloth and Gas
simere Pants, from 2.00 to 4.00
Satin and Silk Velvet Vests, 'Plain
and Fancy, Ewing-the only kind
of this quality fur sale in this
place, from 2.50 to 4.00
Rnundabounts and Pea Jackets, 1.00 to 3.00
Shirts, plain and fancy, 37,1 to 1.50
Satinet Pantaloons, 1,50 to 3.00
Gentlemen's Cotton Italf-hose, 04 to 18i
Silk Handkerchiefs, 371, to 1.00
Cotton do . 64 to 12;
Cravats, a new article, 311 to 1.00
Suspenders, fri to 371
ihnbrelfas, 314 to 1.50
Leather and Hair Trunks, 50 to 1.00
Travelling Bags and Vl:dices, 1.00 to 2.50
Ladies' Travelling Bags, a beauti
ful article, 2.00 to 2.50
.4 Large Assortment of Fine and Medium Cloaks.
ALSO—A large assortment of
BOYS' CLOTHING,
Snell as Pants, Vests, Roundabouts, and Shirts, and,
in short, every article of apparel required by the
gentleman, the mechanic or the laborer, with a va
riety of fancy goods, calculated to tickle the taste
and secure the patronage of all classes and condi
tions of men.
My thanks are due, and I hereby tender them to
the world of my patrons, fur former favors, and
am determined to prove the sincerity of my grati
tude, by untiring efforts to furnish a Fashionable
Wardrobe to every patron of the Colunatic Hall of
Fashions, as cheap as the 'cheapest, and as good as
the best.
REMEMBER THE 3 DIG DOORS,
the place to buy cheap Clothing, No. 42, Front
Street, Columbia, Pa., directly opposite the Bridge,
and three doors below Black's hotel.
For further particulars, enquire of the Captain on
board. JAMES L. PR ETSMAN.
Columbia, Oct. 9th,l 847.
N. 13. A branch of the above establishment,where
all the articles enumerated, and at the same prices,
may he obtained, has been opened in No. 4, Shrei
ncr's Walnut Front.
NEW FALL GOODS.
Tim subscribers have just received their supply
I. Fall and Winter, Foreign and Domestic Dry
Goods, to which they invite the attention of their
friends and the public generally.
CLOTS, CASSIDTERMS, &c.
Their stock consists of superior FrancL, and
Faiglish Black, Blue, Brown, Mixed, and Olive
('laths; plain and Fancy Cassimers, Sattincts,
Tweeds, Jeans; Velvet and other Vestings.
Cry do Rhine, Swiss and Mattenna Dress Silks.
ALPACAS.—PIain, 1943, and Striped, at 18,
115, 31, 37, .50 cts., &c. English, German, and
French Merinoes ; Plain Paris Cashmeres and De
Lines, Lama and Tarter Plaids.
French, Earlston and Manchester Oinghams;
Prints of every style and price; Plain and Plaid
Linseys; Tuper Gauze and other White and color
ed Flannels.
811IRTINGS.—Three quarters, four quarters,
fire quarters. six quarters and ten quarters Bleached
and Brown Shootings, Man kots,Tickings, Cheeks,
Doeskins, &e.
A splendid assortment of Trimmings, Gimps,
Silk and Cotton Fringes; Thread, Victoria and
llohbin Edgings and Insertings ; Lisle, 'Victoria
and 13russels Lace, Collerettes,Gloves, llosiery, &c.
Pr:it 60:111:330
Lout, Pulverised, Crushed, Ifavanna and Brown
Sugars; Syrup, 1.. U. N. 0. Molasses; Honey;
Rio, Laguayra and Java Coffees; and the superior
Teas of the Canton Tea Company of New York.
Oils, Fish, &c. ALSO :
China, Glass di, Qncensware.
of which will be sold as LOW as the
LOWEST, for cash or produce.
Thankful for the liberal share of patronage
heretofore received, they will by strict attention to
business endeavor to merit a continuance or the
public's favor. 3. D. & J. WRIGIIT.
Columbia, Sept. I 847.-11:
Stoves, Stoves.
THE subscribers have constantly on band a
I full assortment of Wood,Coal, and Cooking
Stoves of every size and description, Cannon
Stoves. Also, Ileadenburg's Patent
AIR-TIGHT PARLOR STOVES,
which has given full satisfaction in all cases.
The public arc invited to call and examine for
themselves, at the Hardware Store of
Oct. 9—tf RUMPLE k. HESS.
LOOILTZTGI- GLASSES.
LGLASSES or all sizes and ni reduced
-L-ir.r. , <-• for snit. nt FRY Ac SPANGI.Eirt
THE COLUMBIA SPY.
For the Spy and Columbian
TO MY MOTHER.
I know that we must part, mother,
I know that thou must die,
I feel It in my heart, mother,
And hear it in thy sigh.
'Tis very sad to part, mother.
To hear thy voice no more,
'Tie hard to say " Ctrewell," mother,
o know thy life is o'er.
There's sorrow In my heart, mother,
And tears are in my eye,
Ant thou un happy, mother,
'Tis gain for thee to die,
Thou wilt Le an angel, mother,
A .tary crown wilt wear,
Thou'Llt strike a glorious lyre, mother.
To sweet thanksgiving there.
And we shall meet again. mother,
"This is no last farewell,"
But we must part till then, mother,
%Viten boa in heaven shall dwell.
Owego, Nov. 15,1817. F. 113.
- WASHINGTON IN LOVE.
In 1756—twenty years before the brilliant era
which shines like a rich gem in the pages of the
world's history—a gentleman named Cleverly Rob.
inson occupied a dwelling (situate in New York)
which, at that time, was considered a model of Me-.
fiance and comfort, although, according to the pre
vailing taste of the present day, it was nothing of
the kind. It was standing, very little altered from
its original condition, six years ago, on this side of
the Hudson River, within two or three miles ca . :
Wcst Point. Mr. Robinson enjoyed all the luxu
ries known to the colony, and some, beside, which
other colonies did not know—fur instance, a rich
and massive salver tea urn, said, by the gentleman's
descendants, to be the first article of the kind, and
for a long time the only one used in this country.
Ira this dwelling, so much admired, the space be
tween
tlae floor and ceiling was exceedingly low,
and in many of the rooms (set off, about the fire
places, by polished tiles) the rafters were massive
and uncovered, and all things else in the structure
were exceedingly primative. In this house were
born or reared a brood of the most prominent and
inveterate foes to the patriots of the American Re
volution, and the object of that struggle, that histo
ry mentions. Two generations of the Robinson
family bore arms and held office in the armies of
the English King, and fought determinedly against
our sires and grandsires.
Well—in this house, which will already have
attached itself to the interest of the reader—the
only victory that was ever gained over Colonel
George Washington, took place.
Jrt 17.56, Colonel George Washington, of 'Vir
ginia, a large, stalwart, well-proportioned gentle
man of the most finished deportment and careful
exterior; a handsome, imposing, ceremonious and
grave personage—visited his firm end most esteem
ed Friend Beverly Robinson, and announced his
intention of remaining his guest for many weeks.
A grinning negro attendant, called &ph, was
ordered to bring in his master's portmanteau, ad
-ditiunal fuel wig cast into the broad and cheerful
fire-place, an extra bottle or prime old Madeira was
placed upon the table, whose griffin feet seemed
almost to expand twice their original size at the
prospect of an increase of social hilarity, and Colo
nel IVashington was duty installed as a choice
claimant of (old fashioned and unrestrained hospi
tality.
Seated with Mr. and Mrs. Robinson. overwhelm
ed with attention, and in possession of every com
fort, the visitor evinced unquiet and dissatisfaction.
Every sound of an opening or closing door aroused
him from apathy, into which he relapsed when it
was ascertained thaf, no one was about to enter the
apartment. His uneasiness was so apparent that
his host at last endeavored to rally him, but without
effect. Mrs. Robinson finally came to the rescue,
and addressed the Colonel in direct terms.
"Pray, friend Washington, may we be made ac
quainted with the cause of your dullness? There
is some reason for it, and that reason lies with us.
Tell it.
In vain the Colonel argued that nothing had oc.
curred to vex h!ai—that be was not in want of any
further inducement to present or future, happiness;
his entertainers would not regard his words, but
continued their pertinacious endeavors to solve his
mystery. At length, wearied by importunity,
Washington—then twenty years before his great
ness—leaned over the table, played with Ins glass,
attempted to look unconcerned, and whispered to
Robinson the single word " Mary."
" Yes !" responded Mr. R. interrogatively, as if
un.ible to comprehend Washington's meaning.
"Is she well? Does she still abide with yon ?"
"Site does," replied the lady of thc mansion.
Washington again become apathetic and con
templative, while several significant glances passed
between the gentleman and his wife. Some five
minutes were spent in perfect silence, which was
only interrupted by the exit of Mrs. R. from the
apartment. She speedily returned, accompanied by
a beautiful young lady, whom Washington, with a
countenance beaming joyfully, arose to greet with
becoming respect.
The young lady was Mary Phillips; sister of
Mrs. Robinson, and daughter of the owner of the
Phillips° estate.
It was perhaps singular; but the time of her ap
pearance and the period of the return of Washing.
ton's cordiality, was identical. Strange as it was,
too, midnight found this young lady and the Vir
ginia Colonel alone, and in deep conversation,—
The conjugal twain who had kept them company
in the early part of the evening had retired to their
bed-chamber. More remarkable than all, daylight
found this couple still together. The candles were
burned down to the sockets of the sticks, and the
fireplace, instead of exhibiting a cheerful blaze,
harbored only a gigantic heap of ashes and a few
dying embers. What could have prolonged that in
terview. No mutual love; for the parties preserved
a ceremonious distance. and the young lady evinced
a hauteur that could be matched only by her com
panion in after years. And yet the truth must be
told. There was love on one side; the Colonel,
smitten by the graces and rare accomplishments of
a lady as beautiful as nature's rarest works, was
endeavoring to win her heart in exchange for his
own. lie made his confession just as the cold grey
of the dawn of morning broke up the dark clouds
in the east. Ile confessed, in cautious and meas
ured terms, it is true,the extent of his passion, and
avowed what it was his earnest hope would be the
result; that was the gain of her hand. The lady
hesitated. Was it the modesty of the maiden who
dares not to trust her lips with the confession of
affection it is her heart's desire to make 7 No
*The . owners of this estate—which was vast—
having opposed the Americans, they became
vi
time to the confiscation act, and a great portion or
the property was confiscated. The revisionary
interest was not affected, however, and in 1809,
John Jacob Astor bought it for 9100,000. For this
Mr. Astor received from the state, 10 years after,
the small sum of $500,000.
AND LANCASTER AND YORK COUNTY RECORD.
From the Jersey City Telegraph
COLUMBIA, PA. SATURDAY, DECEMBER IS, 1847.
she respected, although she did not love her interio
cutnr, and she felt diffident in making known to
him the true state of her feelings. At last candor
triumphed over delicacy, and she informed Wash
ington in set terms, that she loved another! She
refused him ! The greatest of modorn men was
vanquished, and by a woman! He was speechless
and powerless.
Trembling, with compressed lips and a counte
nance ashy pale, he trept from the place just as
the old =gross of the household entered to make
preparations for the breakfast. Ile sought his
room, throw himself open his couch, dressed as he
was, and lapsed into a troubled sleep. The only
victory ever won at his expense penetrated him to
the soul. He was unhappy—supremely wretched!
The future conqueror of thousands of brave men
suffered because he had been rejected by a female.
This was his first, but not his last wooing.
Years rolled on upon the mighty tide of time.—
George Washington was the commander-in.ehief
of the American forces opposed to the royal gov
ernment. The friend of his early manhood, Bev
erly Robinson, was the Colonel of the loyal Ameri
can regiment raised in this state, and his son was
the Lieutenant Colonel. The house we have spoken
of was in possession of the " rebels," and was occu
pied by Arnold the traitor. It was afterwards the
temporary residence of Washington.* At this time
the husband of Miss Mary Phillipse, Roger Morris,
was a prominent tory, and a member of the coon
cil of the. colony.} Few of the parties were occu
pied by any reflections of an amorous nature.--
i in its progress had worked mutations which
had severed the closest ties, both of friendship and
consanguinity. Those who were most intimate
before the commencement of the war, were now
studied strangers, with drawn swords at each
other's breasts. Even suns and Inthers were
estranged and arrayed in opposite ranks—oven the
child of that illustrious statesman, Dr. Franklin,
was st. bitter and uncompromising tory. It must
not be supposed that the loyalist friends of the
Colonel, George Washington shared any better lute,
so far as the acquaintenceship of the Fattier of his
Country was concerned, titan others. His old Hud
son River friends had not been seen for years. The
husband of Mary Phillipse was personally unknown
to him—lleverly Robinson, grown gray and care
worn, would scarcely have been recognized.
Andre was taken and condemned to death, and
while under General Woodhull's charge was visi
ted by Mr. Robinson in the capacity of a species
of a commissioner which protected his person.—
What was the surprise of Washington, a few days
before the time of the execution, to receive a letter
from his old friend and entertainer, referring to
past events, and claiming, on a score of reminis
cence, a secret or private interview. The claim
was acknowledged, and late at night, Mr. Robinson,
accompained by a figure closely mottled in a cloak,
was admitted to the General's appartment. For a
moment those two men—their positions so widely
different—gazed at each other in silence. Recol
lections of days gone by—of happy days tincorrod
cd by cankering care—prevailed, and they abrupt
ly embraced. Washington was the first to recover
his self-possession. Suddenly disengaging himself;
he stood erect and clothed in that unequalled dig.
nity, which was his attribute, and said—
" Now, sir, your business."
"is," replied Robinson, in a choking voice," to
'lead for Andre."
" You have already been advised of tny final de
termination," replied Washington sternly.
" Will nothing prev.iil 7" asked Robinson, in
smothered accents.
" Nothing: Were he my own son he should pay
the penalty due to his offence. I know all that you
will say, you will speak of his virtues—his sisters—
his rank, and of extenuating circumstances; per
haps endeavor to convince me of his innocence."
Robinson struggled with his emotions a few
seconds, but unable to repress his feelings, be spoke
hut one word, with such a, thrilling accent that he
started at his own voice. That word was George
"General Washington, Colonel Robinson," re
sponded the great patriot, laying great stress on
each military title.
Enough,' said the other. have one more
argument—if that rails me I have done. Behold
my friend!"
" Your friend! Who is Lc? Wh..t is his name ?"
One other single word was spoken as the heavy
cloak in which the mysterious friend was clothed,
cell to the floor and exposed the mature figure of
Mrs. Morris, and that word, uttered with a start by
Washington, was Mari! The suspense was pain
ful hot brief:
"Sir," said IVanhington, instantly recovering,
"this trifling is beneath your station and my digni•
ty. I regret that you must go back to Sir Henry
Clinton with the intelligence that your best inter
cession has failed. See that these persons arc con
ducted beyond the lines in safety," continued he,
throwing open the door of the appartment, and ad
dressing ono of his aids.
Abashed and mortified, Mr. Robinson and his
sister-in-law took their leave. The woman had
gained a conquest once, but her s" , ond assault was
aimed at a breast invulnerable.
*Before Sir Henry Clinton, or any other person,
knew of Arnold's detection and Andre's projects,
Beverly Robinson was in possession of all the facts.
A great grand-son of his own practices law, or did,
not long ago in this city.
fife had been an aid of Braddock, and had been
the companion in arms of General Washington.
r=l
From the New Orleans Delta.
THE FORTUNES OP AN ORPHAN
AN " OWER TRUE' SICETCII.
It was twenty years agn yesterday ! The golden
gleams of tbe royal sun Ibll with rich lustre on the
yellow bosom of the 'Mississippi. There were then
not so many plantations in the vicinity of New Or
leans, and where now wave the long green leaves
of the sugar cane, was then an almost uncultivated
waste. The banks of the river teemed with cotton.
wood trees, and the long gray moss swung lazily
in the soft breeze of Autumn. The " Dirch-Wroed,”
a noble ship from Asterdam, slowly made her way
up the river. She had on board some forty or filly
immigrants. The old Gormans,in their long tailed
coats, decorated with many small brass buttons,
smoked their pipes complacently, and every now
and then grunted, "yaw ! yaw!" in assent or reply
to some question. The young girls displayed them
selves in their brightest kirtles or buddiecs, and
larded their hair in order to make it smooth and
bright. These was net one on board that vessel
who did not have a thousand thoughts all melted
into one as the ship reached the Levee. One
thought, and his memory travelled like lightning,
of the little cottage on the banks of the Rhine,
around whose porch the honey-suckle grew, and the
bees hummed—singing as it were an insect song of
praise to heaven for its bounty. Then across the
mirror of the heart of the immigrant there came
the shadow of a sweet, pale face, with eyes moist
with tears, and lips as soft and crimson as the moss
rose. That stolid Switzer—he smoked his pipe in
silence—no one saw his tears, for they were wept
inwardly, and the eyes of his soul looked upon the
green borders of his own blue Rhine and the sweet
face of the pale, tearful girl he left behind him.—
Standing on the quarter deck, there was a woman
who seemed toile almost lost in thought. She was
poor and friendless, and bad como to the land of
liberty to seelc a long lost brother. Ten years
afterwards that poor Dutch ruaiden was the wife
of a member of Congress.
Now let's to the steerage cabin of the " Dirch
Hoed." In a miserable cot there lay a man who
was dying. His wife stood by him, and ever and
anon bathed his temples with vinegar, and in her
own language whispered to him some words of
cornier!. At the foot of the bed of the dying man
a little girl with bright blue eyes and flaxen hair,
was playing with an apple that had been given to
her by one of the cabin passengers. Unconscious
of the situation of her father, she toyed with her
little present, and every now and then a slight laugh
would escape her lips. Just as the vessel touched
the wharfof the First Municipality, the wife of the
dying man sat down by him. She thought that he
had sunk into a sweet slumber—that he would re•
cover, and that in the "new country" she would
have his stalwaat arm and able judgment to pro
tect her and the little child, the offspring of their
love. His face was very pule, and she thought for
a moment that the dilation of his nostrils had
ceased. Her heart throbbed wildly in her bosom,
and going to a little wooden chest, she took out a
broken bit of looking glass. Placing it before his
mouth, for he was very still, she endeavored to find
out it'll° still breathed. There was no moisture on
the glass! 'Acre was a slight tremor or the heart
of the dead man, that like a bird unwilling to leave
its nest, gently heaved his snow white bosom, and
all was at rest
The widowed woman clasped her hands before
her eyes, and thought, but dared not look upon her
poor little daughter, who still sat playing on the
Led where her father died. It was all gone! The
home she had left—the friends that she had separa
ted from—the vision of the blue waves fringed with
silver laces that she had crossed over—the hopes of
wealth and happiness in the land of liberty—the
pleasant thought of sending on,
when they had got
rich, for her own aged mother and gray-haired
father ocher husband ! Her husband!—She wildly
withdrew the thin, white fingers that were clasped
over her eyes and saw the placid features of her
husband, who was cold in death, and her daughter
still playing with,her little apple! The tides of her
heart rose with such velocity that she fell upon the
planking, and when sonic oilier companions picked
her up, they saw that the blood was gurgling from
her mouth, with her fingers clinched, and that her
wan bosom heaved with tumult. A few moments
more and her pulse ceased to quiver, and her glazed
eyes looked upwards, as if to God ! She was dead 1
—he was dead, and still the little flaxen headed,
blue-eyed girl sat smiling by those who were her
parents. There were two inquests that day, and
two rough coffins conveyed the dead wife and hus
band to the grave! The little orphan thought it a
gay thing to take them away,for some one had told
her that they were asleep, and then she laughed and
clasped her tiny hands. In a little while, however,
she commenced crying for her mother, and little
tears as bright as pearls trickled down her pure
checks. A broad shouldered man, at the time that
he was lifting a box out of the hold, saw the little
girl and asked who she was. He learned her his
tory and with his homey hand wiping a tear front
hill eye, asked if he could take her. The captain
and those around, glad to get rid of what they
thought a burthen, assented. Ile took the orphan
by the hand and led her to his home.
"Mary, dear," said he to his wife in tones that
told he had come from the Enteral Isle, "It's no
childher ov our own that we have, an' since I've
been nut I've got one for ye! Oh, Mary, she's an
orphan—she's like the rose bud torn from the stem,
an' it's me and your own dear self that will take
care of her!"
The gond wife of the poor longshoreman did
care. for the little orphan, and brought it up as her
own. Time made it fo get who its parents were,
and in a little while it loved its foster mother and
father dearly. Fortune was prosperous to the kind
couple, and in a few years the longshoreman had
money enough to set himself up in business. In a
fow years more the neighbors whispered that he
was gifting rich, and it was true 13y industry and
economy he accumulated wealth enough to live in
splendor, and bo now, if he wished, might drive his
coach and four. What became of the little orphan ?
She grew up to be a beautiful woman—a blessing
to their foster parents, and an ornament to her sex.
A. few nights ago a marriage took place in this
city, and after the ceremony was performed, a tall,
handsome young man and a lovely woman might
have been seen going on board a steamboat that
was bound up the river. The young nail was a
wealthy merchant of St. Laois, and the lady was
no less a person titan the little German girl, who,
nearly twenty years ago, arrived in New Orleans
a desolate orphan
1=!!!!2!1!1!1=1
Gime TIIC 1Z0.11). -4t1 the northern part of New
Jersey, there lived an old Quaker remarkable fur
his obstinacy. Among other peculiarities of dia.
position, he had the custom of making every vehi
cle he met upon the road, while driving, turn out of
the way for him. Frequent attempts had been
made to force him to give up his darling, preroga
tive, but they had all }roved unavailing. Neverthe
less a young man in his neighborhood, not at nit
discouraged by these repeated failures, laid a wager
that ho would Make the old gentleman yield the
road to him. Accordingly, having summoned up
all his resolution, he set out on what ire might
perhaps call, were we sublimely disposed, "this
new crusade." Ire soon espied his adversary driv
ing his " erector" in the customary jog-trot. They
met a dead halt ensued on both sides.
"Good morning, friend; how does thee do?—
Can't thee turn thy horse a little to one side 7"
"Not exactly, Sir; I expect you to turn out for
mck?"
"Oh ! thee does—does thee 1 Thee can wait a
little while, I suppose 7 "
" Certainly, Sir, with pleasure!"
On this the friend quietly filled his pipe, struck a
light, and commenced smoking. Our hero took a
cigar from his hat, and soon made a model of a
locomotive of his face. The smoking for some
time was conducted by both parties with the com
posure and gravity becoming the occasion. After
a while, the old gentleman laid asie.e his pipe and
drawing a paper from his pocket, began to read.—
Our friend, on the other hand, also produced a news
paper and was soon deeply engaged in the perusal
of its contents. This went on and the day went
on. Tiic Quaker got through with his news first,
and looked at our hero with a benevolent smile, as
if he was disposed to encourage the youth's devo.
lion to literature, but did not touch the reins, while
the two horses had fallen asleep with their heads
touching each other. The young man having read
the paper entirely through, advertisements and ail,
and occasionally gone back to read some obscure
part over again, that he might correct anymroncous
impression upon his mind,folded it upend returned
it to his pocket. His eyes now met those of his
antagonist, whose features were expanded with the
same immoveable smile. Our hero was not Lobe out
manceuvred, so be deliberately took out another
paper and commenced reading. He was deep in
the second page, when his studies we interrupted
by a loud exclamation of:
" Ho, Illaze, get up ! go along! Friend! thee is
the most obstinate man I ever met !"
- .
The wager was won, for them trotted old Maze
past him, with wagon, luggage, driver and all, at
his heels.
A. STORY OF APSLEY MOUSE,
One fine autumn day in the year 1750, as his
majesty George the 11. was taking a ride in Ilyde
Park, his eye was attracted by the figure of an old
soldier who was resting on a bench placed at the
foot of an oak trcce. The King, whose memory of
time was vemarkable, recognized him as a veteran
who had fought bravely by his side, in some of his
continental battles; and kindly accosted him, the
old mart who was lame, bobbled towards him.
"Nell, my friend," said the monarch, "it is
now some years since we heard the bullets whistle
at the battle of Dettingen; tell Inc what has be
, fallen you since."
"1 was wounded in the leg, please your majes
' ty,and received my discharge and a pension, on
which my wife and I are living, and trying to
bring up our only son."
"Are you comfortable? Is there any thing you
particularly wish for?"
"Please your majesty, if I might make bold to
speak, there is one thing that would make my
wife, poor woman,as happy as a queen, if she
could only get it. Our son is a clever boy, and as
we arc anxious to give him a good education, we
try every means in our power to turn an honest
penny; so my wife keeps an apple stall outside the
park gate, and on fine days, when she is able to be
out, she often sells a good deal. But sun and dust.
spoil the fruit, and rainy weather keeps her at
home; so tier profits are but little—not near enough
to keep our boy at school. Now please your majes
ty, if you would have the goodness to give her the
bit of ground outside the park gate, we could build
a shed for her fruit stall, and it would be, I may
say, like an estate to us."
The good-natured monarch smiled, and said,
"You shall have it, my friend. I wish all my
subjects were as moderate in their requests as you."
lie then rode on, followed by the grateful blessing
of his fliithful veteran.
In a few days a formal conveyance of the bit of
ground ..o James Allen, lays wife, and their heirs
forever, was forwarded to their humble dwelling.
The desired shed was speedily erected, and the
good woman's trade prospered beyond her expec
tations. Often, indeed, the king himself would
stop at the park gate to accost her, anal taking art
apple from her tempting store, deposit r golden to
ken in its place. Sire was thus enabled to procure
a good education for her sou, who really possessed
considerable talents.
Years rolled on, George I I, and the veteran were
both gathered to their fathers; but Mrs. Allen still
carried on her trade, hoping to lay up some money
for her son, who was becoming a young man, and
bed obtained a situation as head clerk in a largo
haberdashery establishment. He lived with his
mother in a neat, though humble dwelling, a little
way out of the city; and thither he hoped soon to
bring a fair young bride the daughter of a Mr.
Gray, a music teacher, who resided near them.—
' Sweet Lucy Gray as her lover was wont to call
her, had given her consent, and the happy day
was already fixed.
One morning, however, when Mrs. Allen pro
ceeded as usual to her place of merchandize, she
was startled to perceive the space around her frail
;tall tilled with workmen conveying stones, mor.
tar, and all the implements necessary for comment..
ing a building. Some were standieg around the
shed, evidently preparing to demolish it. 'Come
old lady,' said one of the men, 'move your things
out of this as fast as you can, fur we can do no
thing until the shed is down."
"My shed'." she exclaimed ; "and who has given
you authority to touch it?"
" The Lord Chancellor," was the reply," he has
chosen this spot for a palace, that he is going to
build, and which is intended to be somewhat grand
er than your fruit stall. So look sharp a‘;:nit your
property, for the shed must conic down."
Vain were the poor woman's tears and lantenta•
Lions; her repeated assertions that the late king had
given her the ground for her own, were treated
with ridicule; and at length site returned home
heartsick and desponding.
Misfortunes, it is said, seldom come alone. That
evening Edward Allen entered his mother's dwell.
ing, wearing a countenance as dejected as her
own. Ile threw himself on a chair, and sighed
deeply. "Olt, mother, he said,"" I fear we arc
ruined: Mr. Elliott has failed fur an immense
sum; there is an execution on the house and goods,
and I and all his clerks arc turned adrift. Every
penny we possessed was lodged in his hands, and
now we shall lose it all. resides, there have been
lately so many failures in the city that numbers of
young men are seeking employment, and I'm
sure I don't know where to turn to look for it. I
suppose, lie added, trying to smile, " we shall have
nothing to depend on, but your little trade ; and I
must give up ;he hope of marrying sweet Lucy
Gray; it will be hard enongh to see you suffering
from poverty, without bringing her to share it
"Oh, Edward," said his mother, "what you tell
me is hard enough ; but my dear boy, I have sell
worse news for you." She then, with many tears,
related the events of the morning, and concluded
by asking him what they were to do.
Edward paused. "And so," said he at length,
"the Lord Chancellor has taken it fancy to my
mother's ground, and lice poor fruit stall must come
down to make room for his stately palace. Well,
we s hall see. Thank God, we live in free, happy Eng
land, where the highest has no power to oppress
the lowest. Let his Lordship build ;he cannot
seize that which his sovereign bestowed on an
other. Let us quietly rest to night, and I fed cer
tain that all will be well."
The following day Edward presented himself at
the dwelling of the Lord Chancellor. • Can I see
his lordship?" he inquired of the grave official who
answered his summons.
"My Lord is engaged just now and cannot be
sum, except on urgent business."
" My business is urgent," replied the young man;
"but 1 will await his lordship's leisure."
And a long waiting lie had. At length after
sitting in an ante-room for several hours, lie was
invited to enter the anthence chamber. There, at
a table covered with books and papers sat Lord
Apslcy. Ile was a dignified looking man still in
the prime of lire, with a pleasant looking counte
nance, and quick, penetrating eye. " Well my
friend," he said, " what can I do for you ?"
"Your lordship can do much," replied Edward,
"yet all I seek is justice. You have chosen, as the
site for your new palace, a piece of ;pound which
his majesty, King George 11. bestowed on my pa
rents and their heirs forever ; and since my father's
death, my mother has remained in undisturbed
possession. If your lordship will please to read
this paper he will sec that what I state is a fact."
Lord Apaley took the document, and perused it
attentively. "You arc right, young man," he
said; "the ground is indeed secured to your family
by the act of our late gracious sovereign. 1 took
possession of it believing it to be a waste spot, but
now I find I must become , the tenant of your
surviving parent. What does she expect for it ?"
" That," said Edward, " she is satisfied to leave
to your lordship. We are confident that the chief
lawgiver of our country will do what is just and
right."
• You shall not be disappointed, young man re-
plied the Chancellor." " I was offered a site for
my palace, equally eligible, at a yearly tent of four
hundred pounds. That aum I will pry to your
[Witor,r. NUMBER. 916.
mother, and have it properly secured to her heirs
forever."
Edward thanked his lordehisp and respectfully
withdrew.
Before a week had elapsed, his mother was es.
tablished in a neat and comfortable dwelling in
one of the suburbs; and ere two had gone by,
sweet Lucy (no longer Gray) might be seen in the
sunny little garden filling a basket with the fruit
of a golden pine pipin tree, and which the old lady
pronounced to be almost as fine as the apples which
his gracious majesty King George 11. was wont to
select from her stall at Hyde Corner.
And thus it came to pass that the stately man
sion of England's warrior duke is subject, at tho
present day, to a ground rent. of £4OO pounds a
year, payable to the representatives of the old apple
woman.
==2
HOW IT ILIPPENED
That a Washerwoman was not Queen of Sweden
I=
At the period when the states of Grenoble, as
sembled at the Chateau do Vizillc, were preparing
the revolution of 1719, Bernadotte, then a scrjeant,
was quartered in that town. Little dreaming of
Ids future eminence, he passed his time between
his military duties, in cards and gallantry. Be
had obtained considerable reputation amongst his
his comrades for his success in the latter art, and
made it a point of honor to sustain it. An oppor
tunity presented itself on the famous day of 'the
tiles.'. On that day, as is well known, the women
of Grenoble, mounted on the roofs of their houses,
assailed the royal troops with a shower of tiles,—
Bernadotte, being engaged with bis regiment in
the Rue Pertnisiere, was struck on the head by one
of these projectiles, and fell. Ile was thought to
be dead, but manifesting, some symptoms of life,
he was conveyed into a neighboring cafe, and laid
upon a table, a Ideh is stiff preserved end shown.—
I He was not, however, destined for the fate of Pyr
rhus; by degrees he began to rccover, and opening
his eyes, saw amongst the crowd who were tender.
ing assistance, a fair young girl,-whose Light blue
eyes were suffused with tears, and whose emotion
was manifest at the pain he appeared to suffer. lie
raised himself on his elbow, and gazing at her at.
tentively, seemed struck with her beauty. Alter a
little time, finding himself better, ho culled for a
glass of brandy, and rejoined his regiment. Quiet
being established at Uenoble, Bernadotte left no
means unemployed to discover his fair unknown.
For three weeks he continued his romantic search,
when one day, while walking pensively in the
Jardiu de Villa, he saw her approaching. He
watched her home, and returning the next day,
found the means of obtaining access to her house,
and declared his love. The girl was named Ame
lia, she was a dress-maker, and about eighteen
years of age; but there was a rival in the field, a
young watchmaker in the town. Not knowing
how to dispose of him, and moreover, being violent
ly in love, Bernadotte spoke of marriage, thinking
by that means to overcome all difficulties, but her
fa
Ante)la loved neither the citizen nor the hero;
but the first was a watchmaker, and the other
nothing at all, not even King of Sweden. She pre.
furred the shop to the haversack, and became the
affianced of the watchmaker. When Bernadotte
heard her decision, his fury knew no bounds ; lie
rushed to the Leese of his rival and declared his
pretentions to the hand of Amelia, and challenged
his rival to decide the question by the sword. The
watchmaker was nothing loath, and the parties met.
The citizen, little accustomed to the use of his
weapon, was soon severely wounded, and Bernadotte
hastened to the house of his mistress. He had
been there but a few minutes, and had even forgot
ten the occurrence which had taken place, when a
loud knocking was heard at the door. It was the
wounded lover of Amelia, brought thither appa
rently in a dying state. She was overwhelmned with
grief and horror, and turning to Bernadotte, loaded
him with the severest reproaches, and drove bins
from the house. Ile saw her for the last time;
in a month she became the wife of the watch
maker. Bernadotte, when he heard it, determined
first to shoot her, then to murder her hushprl, and
finally, to blow out his own brains. Fortunately
for his future crown he did neither. The blue-eyed
heroine of this adventure—now alive—a decrepit,
crooked, wrinkled old woman-servant at a common
inn, and in a state of utter poverty, related these
circumstances a short time since. `Ali, sir,' said
she, in concluding her story, 'I should have done
much better in marrying M. Bernadotte. I should
have been a queen now.;—yes a queen ! instead of
waiting upon everyborY. I should have had a
crown, and subjects, and fine clothes. I should
have been a queen ! Ali, I made a great mistake
—a sad mistake. I ought to have foreseen this;
for I assure you, sir, M. Bernadotte was not a com•
mon man. I had a kind of presentiment that
something would happen: but what would you
have? when we are young we do not reflect—we
are not ambitious: we refuse kingdoms, and make
fools of ourselves. Saying which she shed tears.
When asked if she had ever heard anything
front him, she answered, 'Never, sir ; I have written
to him several times since he became a king, but
he has never returned any answer. My husband
says it is because I did not pay the postage of my
letters. It is very likely; and then, perhaps, he
may still feel annoyed at my having refused him.
If we were both free again, and I had any money,
I would go to London ; perhaps he would marry
me, or, at any rate, gite me his linen to wash! that
would be something after all.'
From a diadem to a crown! Could Love him
self have imagined anything more romantic?
=132
Naror.rov's Arreamr no COMMIT Sermon.—
" From the time of retreat from Russia," said he,
" I had constantly carried about my neck, in a lit
tle silken bag, a portion of a poisonous powder
which l then had prepared by my orders when I
was in fear echoing carried by the cossacks. My life
no longer belonged to my country; the events of
the last few days had again rendered me master of
it. Why should I endure so much BM:tering 7 and
who knows that my death may not phice the crown
on the head of my son ? France was saved—l
hesitated no longer, but leaping frnm my bed milt
ed the poison in a little water, and drank it with a
sort of floppiness. But time had taken away its
strength ; fertrtbl pains drew forth some groans from
me ; they were heard, and medical assistance ar
rived. It was not Heaven's will that I should die
so soon—St. Helena was my destiny :"—Ward.
wood.
MATRIMONIAL ADVERTISRRS. - A gentleman
sometime ago advertised for a wife, a young laity
replied, and met at the time and place appointed,
but he did not deem her sufficiently interesting.—
Again he advertised, and again the same lady re.
plied and met him, but was again rejected. A third
time he advertised, and a third time the same lady
presented herself at the appointed place of meeting,
when ho laughed and she laughed at the strange
circumstance, but both having faith in odd num
tiers, determined to become two in ono flesh, as
they wore of opinion that marriages arc made in
heaven and that they were destined by fate for each
other.