1 - ' ' i WE GO WHE -iE DEMOCRATIC PBINCIPLE POINT THE WAY WH)EN THEY CEASE TO LEAD, WE CEASE TO FOLLOW.' i m il EBEiNSIMlG, THURSDAY, APRIL 21, 18-53. NUMBER 26. T lilt MS. The "MOUNTAIN SENTINEL" is publish ed every Thursday morning, at One Dollar and Fifty Cents per annum, if paid in advance or within three months: after three .months Two Dollars will be charged. Jfo subscription will be taken for a shorter period than six months ; and no paper will be discontinued until all arrearages are paid. A failure to notify a discontinuanc at the expira tion of the term subscribed for, -will be consid ered ss a new engagement. ADVERTISEMENTS will be inserted at the following rates: 50 cents per square for the first insertion; 75 cents for two insertions; f 1 for three insertions ; and 23 cents per square lor eTery subsequent insertion. A liberal reduc tion made to those who advertise by the year. All advertisements handed in must have tlie proper number of insertions marked thereon, or they will be published until forbidden, and charged in accordance with the above terms. -aAll letters and communications to insure attention must ha post paid. A. J. llllEY. THE TIEST BLUE-BIRD CF EIBIKG. BY CLAUDE HALCRO. BliaBT bird 1 como back to our cold clime once more Pind'st thou no pleasure in the realms of Sun, That thus thou dost revisit us, or ere The wintry bunds sire loosed by joyous Spring? What inborn love for us cou.d ttui 8 have won Thee from theaiure of the Southern skies Back to tha gloomy cloisters of the north : Which, like a nun, thou seekest here to drown la melancholy song some pressing grief. "Which thou dost cherish, yet would all forget! Thou earnest in tuy gentleness, like flowers After fresh dancing showera, sinking fr-im Tby wings soft music and sweet balm. Aud como Bright hours, which lead with golden threads of light The young and wayward Spring. Thy plain tive note The South wind woos, and on my cheek I feel Iii dreamy influence breathing, !ik the full, 'Tiirai breath of loved and glorious giris divine! Thou comest, and the winter fiic3 the year Thou warmest, and the spriug trips o'er the hill -: Thou comest, and tho heavens smile .again Thou warblest, aud all nature's heart bcat.s highi ' -Hail! hail! to thee! bird of the plaintive note. JUid plumo dipt in the firmament's own blue ! Well I remember when I was a boy Two blue-birds came, and by my window built Their nest. I used to sit for hours and watch Them in the work of love, till 1 became .Familiar to them, and they fed from out II; h inds. From theuce we three were gentle friends. SvOn came the summer, and with it their brood Of querulous fledgelings. How I luved tln-se birds! And I had thought a simple child they wou'd Forever stay and llutter round my head With their soft warble, and their guitle ways. Alas', for childhood, and its happy hours! One day I'en on uucertain wing they took their flight. My love was turned to tears, But when the spring Again returned, those same two birds came back. I knew them by the sweet home-language which TLoy gpokc when they beheld the last year's nest. Bear unto me were they again, and are ! Bat now thnt ago hath shut out from my heart Those little rays of love which then streamed through. And gave it -dl a glow, I quite forget The birds of low soft melody, until Borne early messengers of spring awake The memory of my beloved infancy. And then 1 think they are those self-same birds, Which in the morningvif my life f loved. Come back again to seek that snme old nest. Yes, more 1 think that though the world may frown Misfortune on me, though my friends desert, Though the bright fires of my Lopes go out In disappointment glo my as the grave, Those self-same blue-birds will revisit me To bring the lost henrt of my boyhood back; And 1 shall see a glorious future fair untold Again, nor yield to dark and dread despair! Bright birds ! would I could give a language to Thy song ! O ! that thy melody were mine ! I would not ask for those exulting strains Which wake the world and bid it hear! -I would Not strive for vain applause nor passing show; But with a low, soft song go forth to win Mankind unto thy ways of gentleuess ! . LOVE ON THE ROAD. "Bub the horse down well, and don't feed him till he is perfectly cool." The above was addressed to the hostler of a hotel in Brighton, by a handsome middle-aged gmtleman, dressed in the height of fashion, as he alighted from an elegant black horse, and tossed the reigu to the attendant. "And now," said the horseman, addressing a waiter, "show me into a private parlor." A well dressed man, who rides a handsome ting, is alwayB welcome at a public house, all the w.orld over. Our friend soon found himself in a neat parlor, with flowers and vu6es n th. mantel-piece, and the blinds, (for it was a warm summer's afternoon) carefully closed, while the open window permitted a free current of uir to circulate through the apartment. The waiter remained standing near the door. Any orders, sir?" No yet 6tay. Who came in that handsome phceton I saw standing in the yard J" "A lady, sir." "Ah!" "A young widow. "Bah!" "She is very handsome." . "Go along, and blut the door aftcryou," mut tered the traveller, testily. "A woman, but a widow," he soliloquized. "! n flad 1 dt kwrw tvr. I am certainly very fortunate to have attained the age of forty with out auy feminine attachment. Pecuniarily in dependent not ill-looking, 1 think I must ad mit that 1 should make what those busy body match makers call, a grand catch. ' But, thank my stars! 1 have preserved my content and in dependence so far, ami I'm not likely to suc cumb now. No, no. Jack Champion was born to live and die a bachelor. Aud now for the newspaper V In the meantime, another horseman had come to tlie hotel lus iioi'sts reeking with sweat, and literuiiy unable to place one of his feet in front of another. The same hostler an Irishman made his appearance. l'ut," said the young man, fashionably at- j tired, "put ny mare in the stable, aud Uo the ; best oil c.iu ur iitrr."' Ucii, M.athur Traverse, she s kilt euttrely. 'I'm afraid sii." 'Aii l w ii;. t'n the divil made ye crowd her so." "Io mailer. Is my s.ster here?'' " is sur. Uili, show the giutitin.ui into the ladies' parlor." "Ab, lien," said the young man, entering the parh-r, you here?" Ves,' lVf.iol a beautiful young lady, rising to meet iiim. "but what's the matter ?" 0 iiiiii,r, Beit, ifiilnu." "doiui-iuing is i-ertaiuiy the matter. You are flushed uud excited." j 1 muat be brief for 1 am pursued. I "PuraUwd ?" I "lea i.u know that fellow who insulted you j iu the Coach liie other daj ," s.iiv thv y.ung man. I "Ueii, i have beeu ou his track for over a week. 1 met him lo day m the ntreet, and g ive ' li t in u coufouiMeu horse whipping, i have hah I died hiui v.ry rougoiy, i'm afraid, lie instant ;. ly gut out a rt.iir.nl l agaiut me, an 1 not Wisii- lug iv be taken into Court till I was ready, I mounted my hwrae and gave the oihvers the slip. l'ciaatJS 1 d belter have waited and braved it out out having taken tii.s step, I'm bound to baidc tlicm. lo morrow 1 wid surrender my j ae.f Now, lieil, if your pony wid taice me lo our uucic's in five minutes, l iuour man." j She replied, "in. is too t.red to uo it." ( Then l it make other arrangements. By ! the by, i'li meet ou at the villa." j From tuo drawing room tlie young man rush- ed to tue stalne. "i'at," s.iid he, "give me a horse aud a good one." Jsoira the horse we've got in the stable, ei ; cept this U..-IC... and that belongs to a gititiemati j who. came here juol atore ye. Och, but he's a j good one. yer honor, to a chit." j "I'll borrow inm," said Traverse, jumping on I his bacit. "Teil iieil to drive the gentleman to i tile villa, and iiu shall have Imu." i out yer honor. lvauustrateJ the hostler. In vain. Traverse had sot spurs to his horse, ami was otf like a tliuiidertolt. Oh: win ra, wirra!" said the liostler, ''what'll become of nio ? . i m r.uut lutireiy.' Shortly after, Mrs. Les.iu rang for her phai toh, and at tue same time Mr. Campion, the bach e.ur, orici'cd hia horse. ii;e pony came round to tuv iVotil d-ioi', aud at the .ame lime the youug iviu.v bU'iu niiitiv into the piuuiou. A. i rigut," aaii sue to Patrick, with a smile, uod-iing, and la k lug the reins. Cue me his head." Och, i"s aii wrong, my lady." feplied Pat rick, keeping hold ot the reiu. "Your carriage Call luKe tvo inside." Very weu but I came alone." You've got to take a passenger." tth.it do )uu nifctii!" "Oil, wu ia your brother has been stealing a horse." Stealing a horse!" exclaimed the widow. "Yet. that giiillemau's," meaning the bache lor, "and he said you were to take him to the viaa. to get the horse back again." Very singular," said the widow; "but Wil iiaui was aiWays very eccentric." At this crisis, Mr. Campiou appeare 1 "My horse ready V "Jump in, sir." "1 didn't come iu a carriage." 'In widyez," shouted the hostler. " lake a seat bt Side me, if you please, sir," said the widow, with her must fascinating smile. Mr. Campion approached the step to inquire the meaning, when the hostler, seizing him with a vigorous hand, thrus him into the pine ton while the pony, startled at the movement, dash ed otf on a run. "Poor Capt. Campion ! Here was a situation! A confirmed old bachelor bodily abducted by a fascinating young widow. The Captain had to lend his assistance to the lady in managing the pony, who was shortly reduced to his usual slow and quiet pace; and then, after thinking her companion tor his assistance, Mrs. Leslie told him, that iu a few minutes he should be put iu possession of his horse, whivh had been borrow ed by a geutleniaii. This was all tlie explana tion she vouchsafed. She required in turn, to be made acquainted with the name of her com panion, after giving her owu. In a few m.uutes the Captain began to feel somewhat more at ease iu fact he bog-iu to like his position, lie had never sat so near a pretty woman in his life, and he began to ask himself whether, it" the proximtiy was so pleasant tor a, few moments, a coustaut companionship might not prove as agreeable. While her attention was engaged upon Tier pony, he had an opportunity to survey her features. Her large, dark and luminous eyes seemed to be literally swimming iu liquid lustre. Her cheeks were as soft and blooming as the sunny side of a peach. Her profile was strictly Greciau, and her parted lips showed a row of tiny peans as white as snow. The most delicate taper fingers, encased in French kid, close upon the reins, aud the var nished tip of a dainty boot indicated a foot that Cinderella might have envied. Do you live far from here, madame," asked the Captain. "Not very far. The pony can mend his pace if you are in a hurry." "Not for the world. The pace seems to me a very fast one." . The widow turned those witching black eyes of lier's upon the old bachelor, and smiled. It was all over with him. When he : prang out at the gate of the villa, and touched the fairy fin gers of the widow, as he assisted her to alight, his heart was irretrievably lost. . A red-faced old gentleman, in a dressing gown, received them at the door. My friend. Captain Campion, uncle," eaid the ridaw j "racus me for a jaonrent, air.'' "Very happy to see you, sir," said the old gentleman. "Walk in warm day." "Very," said the captain. And indeed his looks seemed to corroborate his statement, for he was as red as a peony. The captain aud the old gentleman were soon chatting familiarly, and the former felt himself completely at home. After an hour spent in this manner, his host excused himself and the bachelor was left alone. A dreamy reverie was interrupted by the sound of voices in the hall. The captain easily recognized the widow's at a glance, though the half-open door showed him that her companion was a very handsome young gentleman. " I'lu re, dear bell," said the young man, "don't scold me any more. I won't do so again, i promise you. Give me a is3." A hearty smack followed. It was a veritable, genuine kiss the captain saw and heard it. A pang shot through his heart. "The only woman I could ever love," he &ud to himself, "and sho's engaged." The widow tripped into the room. If she was pleasing in her carriage dress, she was per fectly bewitching in her drawing room attire. Campion could now see the whole of that delicate fairy foot. "My dear sir," said she, "your horse is at your service now." Campion rose. "But," she added, "if you will stay and take dinner with us. my uncle will be very much grati fied, aud 1 shall be highly pleased. "the coquette : thought Campion, "i am obliged to you, madanie," he said, "but I have an- I other engagement." j States and countries of the parties to be married, "Then we ea.uiot hope to detain you, sir. But ' which he catefully enters on record. The I'resi you must tirst allow me to present you to my bro- dent, who is the prophet. Seer, and Revelator ther." . over the whvle church throughout the world, The handsome young man had now made his ' and who alone hold the keys of authority in this appearance, and shook hands with the bachelor. solemn ordinance, (as recorded in the second That's the horse thief, captain," said the wid- an(j fifth paragraphs of the revelation on mar dw, laughing. riage.) calls upon the bri-'egroom and his wife. 1 he young man apologized, and explained the circumstances which had impelled him to take the liberty. "1 am sorry." he added, that we cannot improve the acquaintance thus casually niade by enjoying your com.my at dinner. I am Sony that you are otherwise engaged." rt'hy, as to that," said the captain, drawing off his gloves, "your offer is too tempting, aud I feel coiupeded to a.Joept it." Sr las horse was remanded lo the stable, and he stopped to dinner. After dinner they had music, for Mrs. Leslie played and sang charm ingly. Theu he was persuaded to stay to tea, and iu the evening, the family rambled in the .garden, and tho captain secured ten minutes tete-a iete with the widow, in a summer-house overgrown with Madeira viues, and inhabited j by a spider and six ear wigs. It wa ten o'clock j when tie mounted his horse to return to Boston, but it was bright moonlight, and he was romanti cally inclined. The next morning he repeated his visit, and the next and the next. In shot t. the episode of the ' burrowed horse produced a declaration and an ac ! eeptauoc; and though years have passed away, ' the captaiu has had no occasion to regret his ride with the widow aud the pony pLieton. Youug Arthur Spring. We learn that Mr. W. J. Mullen has, at the solicitation of several wealthy citizens, waited upon young Arthur Spring, and offered him as s. stance in various ways, more particularly, with a view to his education. In every instance he decliiK-d the proffered assistance, assigning as a reason, that he had an offer to go into a printiiig-ollice at Washington, where he would be able to earn about five dollars a week. In one case he coiiseuted to receive six dollars, merely to pay his expenses to Washington, where he h is three litlie sisters residing. It is his inten tion to leave in the course of a few days. He is is now residing at the house of Officer Byrne, in iSouth Front street near Almond, and has, since the trial, conducted himself with great propriety. He is deeply affected at the fate of his father, and speaks of his career with sorrow and chaine. lie avoid., however, saying any thing harsh or disrespectful, and on being ques tioned, expressed a doubt as to his father hav ing murdered Mr. Itink or Mr. Hope, of King sessing at the same time observiug, that the umbrella found in Kink's store, was evidently the property of Mr. Ragan. He thought that his father would have told him, had he commit ted that murder. He the father was, more over, not particularly excited nt that time, and the son noticed nothing unusual in his manner; He has uot seen his father since he has been convicted, and does not desire an interview. Mr. Mullen introduced him within a few days, to several of our most distinguished citizens, all of , whom conversed with him freely, gave him good advice, and appeared satisfied, with his sinceri ty. They also promised to "assist hiui for the future, should he need it. He does not allude to the charges of his father against himself, but rather avoids the subject. A free pass has beeu obtained for him from the Baltimore Company, and when he leaves he will be accompanied by Mr. Byrne, who has from the first treated him in the kindest manner. I'hila. Inquirer. Joaquin and his Gane. The San Francisco Republican of a late date says : 'Neither in the pages of romance nor in the authentic annals of history have we found a robber whose career has been marked with atro cities half so dreadful as that of Joaquin Carillo, who now ranges the mountains within sixty miles of this city. It has been the fashion of the historian and novelist to trace in the char acters of their bandit heroes some redeeming ing traits; but in the conscience of this blood- tKirfltv viltuin li irA fl niin T" t n hp no minima no 1. ii ;,.. tlement slaughtering the weak and unprotected, as if n mnnin f,-r murder nnivifHti hta inul. So daring and reckless is he, that be marches in the daytime through thickly peopled Settlements, and actually corrals the Chinese by the score, ann yet bo fertile is he in expedients, and bo ac- j and love. - How bitter must be the sorrow, ano enrateis his knowledge of that wild region, that how Bcaldmg the tears of remorse, of an unkmu he baffles his pursuers and defeats the plans of child, as he looks upon the cold form, or stand the many thousands wbe are lying in wait for at the grave of a brother or sistei. a . father o, him So complete is the organisation of the mother, towards whom be had manifested un hand under hi. control that, we are told, relay, kindness. Let vm aU remember whaoTerwc of the fleetest horses iu tha wraatrj await bim i . tfn respect, that aball wa a-to reap. at alxacrt every stp." , ! w yrV- Mormon Weddings Described. The Mormon paper. The Seer, gives the fol lowing account of the formalities observed when a saint espouses supplementary wives : 1 "No man in Utah, who already has a wife, and who may desire to obtain ano'.her, has any right to make any jrp jsitinns of marriage to a lady, until he has consulted the Presideut over the whole Church, and through him obtains a revel ation from God, as to whether it would bepleas iug in Ifis sight. If he is forbidden by revela tion, that ends the matter ; if by revelation, the privilege is granted, be still has no right to con sult the feelings of the young lady, until he has obtained tlie approbation of her parents, pro vided they are living in Utah ; if their consent i cannot be obtained, this also ends the matter. But if the parents or guardians freely give their consent, then be may make propositions of mar riage to the young lady; if she refuse these pro positions, this also ends the matter ; but if she accept, a day is generally set apart by the par ties for the marriage cermony to be celebrated. It is necessary to state that, before any man takes the least step towards getting another wife, it is his duty to consult the feeling of the wife which he alreidy has. and obtain her consent, as recorded in the twenty-fourth paragraph of the revelation, published in the first No. of Tie Seer. When the day eet apart for the solemuiia tion of the marriage cermony has arrived, the bridegroom and his wife, and also the bride, to gether with iheir relatives, and such other guests as may be incited, assemble at the place which they have appointed. The Scribe then proceeds , to take the mmes. litres, native towns, counties. and the brid'j to arise, whicj they do, fronting the President. The wife stands on the left hand of her husb.'ind, while the bride stands on her left. The President then puts this question to the wife 'Jre you willing to give this woman to your husljand to ne his lawiul and wedded wife, for time and for all eternity ? If you are. you will matifest it by placing her right hand within the rpht hand of your husband.' The j right hands f,f the bridegroom and bride being j thus joined, the wife takes her husband by the1 left arm, as it in the attitude of walking. The 1 President Xhen proceeds to ask the following ques- tion of the man : 'Do you, brother, (calling ' him by name,) take sister, (calling the bride by her name,) by the right hand, to receive her un to yourself, to be your lawful and wedded wife, and you to be her lawful and wedded husband, for time and for all eternitv. with a convenant and promise, on your part, that you will fulfil all the laws, rites and ordinances pertaining to this holy matrimoney, in the news and everlasting convenant, doing this in the presence of God, angels, and these witnesses, of your own free will and choice ?' Tlie bridegroom answers, yes. The President then puts the question to the bride : 'Do you sister, (calling her by name,) take brother (calling him by name,) by the right hand, and give yourself to him. to be his lawful and wedded wife, for time and for all eternity, with a convenant and promise, on your part, that you will fulfil all the laws, rites and ordinances pertaining to this holy matrimony, in the new and everlasting couvenant. doing this in the presence of God. angels, and these wim-ss-es. of your own free will and choice V The bride answers, yes. The President then sa3's : -In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and by the authority of the Holy Priesthood. I pro nounce you legally and lawfully husband and wife for time and for all eternity : and I seil upon you theblessings of the holy resnrrecti n. with power to come furth. in the morning of the first resurrec tion, clothed with glory, immortality and eternal lives : and I seal upon you tlie blessings of thrones, and dominions, and principalities, an l powers, and exaltations, togather with the blessings of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and say unto you. be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth, thatyoumay havejoy and rejoicing in your pos terity in the day of the Lord Jesus. All these blessings, together with all other blessings per taining to the new and everlasting convenant. I seal upon your heads, through your faithfulness unto the end. by the authority of the Holy Priest- ; hood, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, i and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.' The Scribe then ' enters on the general record the date and place ot ; the manage. This Hand Never Struck Me." We recently heard, the following most touch- ing incident. A little boy had died. His body was laid out in a darkened, retired room, wait ing to be laid away in the lone cold grave. His afflicted mother and bereaved little sister went in to look at the sweet face of the precious sleeper, for his face was beautiful even in death. As they stood gazing upon the form of one so cherished and beloved, the little girl asked to take his hand. The mother at first did not think " test, out ner caua repeateu tne request, anu i seemed very anxious about it; she took the cold bloodless hand of her sleeping boy, and placed it in the baud of his weepiug sister. The dear child looked at it a moment, cares sed it fondly and then looked up to her mother, through the tears of affection and love, and said, "Mother, this little hand never stbcck me!" What could be more touching and lovely? - Young readers, have you always beeu so gen tle to your brothers and listers, that were you to die, such a tribute as this could be paid to vourmemorv? Could a brother or sister take ' your were it cold, and say, "This hand t ftevet StruCX me I What an alleviation to our grief when we are called to part with friends, to be able to remem ber only words nd actions of mutual kindness IrUhmea. It is an interesting fact to notice the extent of the participation of Irishmen in our revolution ary struggle, aud tho assistance they rendered in that great contest for civil liberty. Irishmen are natural enemies of oppression, and the nat ural friends aud allies of freedom. Their own beautiful island lies in sad ami sorrowful sub jection, but thousands of gallant hearts have ceased to beat, in earnest and ineffectual strug gles to redeem it from the thraldom of monarch ical power. The Declaration ef American Independence was signed by fifty-six persons, nine of whom, (iucludiug Ch iries Thompson, Secretary of Con gress,) were of Irish origin. Matthew Thornton, born in Ireland in 1714, signed it for New Hampshire, lie was after wards Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, and died June 24, lbl3. James Smith, who signed for Pennsylvania, was bora in Ireland iu 1718, aud died in 160i. Citore Taylor, a signer from the same State, was born hi Ireland in 171U, so poor that his Ser vices re sold ou his arrival to pay the expen ses of hie passage out. lie died at Easton, Pa., Feb. 28, 1781. George fteed, of Delaware, was the son of Irish parents, one of the authors of the Consti tution of Delaware, and afterwards of the Fed eral Constitution. It was be who answered to the British tempters "I am a poor man, but poor as 1 am, the King of England is uot rich enough to buy me." lie did iu 173. Charles Carrol, of Carroltou, was of Irish de scent, and very wealthy. He affixed his ad dress after his name, that the pledge of his "fortune" might be beyond doubt He was the last survivor of the signers, aud died Nov. 14, 1832. Thomas Lynch, Jr., of South Carolina, suc ceeded his tather, who died while at Congress, iu 1770, aud signed t.'-e Declaration. Thomas M Kean. signer lor Pennsylvania, was a so of Iriah parentage. He was successive- . ly Senator, Governor of Pennsylvania, and I'res- ' 000 eggs, 800 ditto plovers. Of bread. 4 tons., dent ot Congress. Alter fifty years of public j half n ton of snlt and pepper, near 2 tons of su life, he died on the 24th of June, 1817. I gar; and if he happened to be a covetous boy, Ldward ltutledge, of iSouth Carolina, was also ) he could have formed a fortification or moot a signer, fought in the southern campaign, and ' round the 6aid hill with the liquids be would was tor three years kept prisoner in Florida. , have to partake of to facilitate the digestion cf Became Governor of South Carodua in 1 i DO, and , . . died iu 1S0U. It has beeu sail that "of those illustrious names, uesliueu to live lorever on uie new vuur ter of human freedom. Ireland should be wisely jealous, for the world's revolutions will never present 6uch another tablet of glory to the chil dren of men." m . i . i A Terrible Tragedy. - A ci tizen ot Louisville, mid one of the unfor tunate passengers who took that awl ul ap down the precip.ee weal ol Cumberland, baa so Iar re covered as to wide buhjftouis mends ills experience was oue which few would wi6U to share in : - "1 was asleep when we first got off the track, iu the first eut of the second car Mr. 11., of Waiker's, sitting right opposite. 1 had time to jump off, had i known how bad a fix we were iu ; but oeiieviug it sater to remain, ou secoud thought. 1 did so. (fne traca was only 10J feet wide, as measured after the accident.) The cars immediately fell over the precipice. I thought of God, mother aud ueath. The first jump, about twenty teet, my hat caved me ; the second I faintly rememoered seeing wjinm tear ing their ha.r, aud cuildren 6cre.imiug. The third, fourth aud iast jump I kuow nothing about, only that 1 leli ou my head aud saw u. thousand pieces of timber aud iron flying iu the ad-, and tlieii faiuttfd. When 1 opened my eyes, Mr. T., who w is lucky enough to nave been in oue of tue cars that re mained ou the track, was t my side my bead was bieediug proluaely ; with that exception, 1 tell perfectly weil; nut feeung half what I sutler now. Such a sight as 1 behe.d, 1 wou.'d not look at again for all the world; mutilated bodies some uiasued to atoms, lying under the wheels jjjty or sixty men and wouau, their laces covered with bioou, running as wild as demons mothers with bloody lianas and faces kissing the bodies ot their dead and crippled childreu one womau, with her dress toru off, screaming aud trying to lift off the stones that bad crushed her husband 11., a merchant of Baltimore, his leg mashed, sitting ou a rock one man, having lost alt recollection, looking like an idiot cries of a,rouy and despair, aud oaths, miugled in the orest'iice of death. God is merciful thatone out of us all has escaped. A worse place could not have been fouud, as f e tumbled over rocks sharp and rugged. Shocking Accident. The following accident from the bursting of a fluid lamp is given in the Worcester (Mass.) Transcript. We republish it as a fresh warning against the use of this very dangerous article. We copied a day or two 6ince a paragraph, briefly stating that the wife of Dea. Perley Al len, of Fiskdale, was burned to death on Tues day eveuing by the bursting of a fluid lamp. Th particulars of this accideut, are of the most shocking character. She was sitting by the lamp when it burst, from some unexplained cause, cotuniunica ting the fire to her dress. Theie was no one in the house but an aged man, who was too feeble to render my assistance. Mrs. Allen rau to a bed, in which she rolled herself to extinguish the fire from her person, She succeeded in doing so, but not until her clothes were eutirely consumed from her waitt downward, and her flesh burned to a crisp. Iu the meantime the fluid had set the room ou fire; yet, notwithstanding her terrible condi tion, she had the almost superhuman courage and presence of mind to think of extinguishing the fire, which, by this time, had communicated to various parts of the room. With this purpose in view, the ran to the well and drew pail after pail of water, which 6ha dashsd around the room till the fire was subdued, thus saving the house and the life of an aged ahd helpless man. She then ran into the street and made her condition known. She was so badly burned that portions of her flesh and also her finger nails came off. ind one part of her back was almost literallj roasted, burning her inwardly. Bbe lingered in excrucating torture, but in full possession of her faculties, for sine boure, when death terminated srtr tatferreg. Sasvrn fifty-six jiais cf sjfe. j Wh&t a Mxa may Coasame, An English writer makes the following ccrioTt calculation of what an epicure, at the age of 70, (instancing as examples Talleyrand. Cambace res. Lord JSefton &c.,) must have fail ly consu med during the last sixty years of his life. The writer, to give force to bis statement, takes the; first of the above mentioned epicures, when en tering on the tenth spring of his cxtr&ordinarj career, places him on the top of on eminence, aud exhibits before his infantine eyes the enor mous quantity of food his then insignificant per son would destroy before he attained his 71et year, taking mere'y the medium consumption of his daiiy meals. By closely calculating, h would be surrounded and gazed nt by the fol. lowing number of quadrupeds, birds, fishes, . liy uo less than 30 oxen, 200 sheep, 203 calve. 2UU lambs aud 50 pigs. In poultry. 1200 fowls. 3u0 turkeys, 150 geese, 400 ducklings. 203 pig cous. 14d0 partridges, pHeasants and grouse; 000 woodcocks and snipes ;.l00 wild duoks, wid geon and teal; 450 plovers, rutTes and reeves; 600 quails, ortolans, doterrels, and a few guille mots and oilier foreign birds; also 600 haree aud rabbits, 40 deer, 130 guinoa fowl, 10 pea cocks, and 3G0 wild fowl. In the way of fish, 120 turbot, 140 salmon. 120 ood. 200 trout, 400 mackerel, 300 whitings, 800 soles and slips, 400 floun lers, 400 red mullet, 200 eels, ICO had docks, 400 herrings, iU00 smelts, and some buu dred thousand of those delicious silvery white Oait, besides a few hundred species of fresh vi ler fishes. In shol'.ush, 20 turtle, 30.000 oys ters. 1500 lobsters or crabs, 800,000 prawns, shrimps, radishes and ancovies. In the war af j fruit, about 0000 lbs. of grapes. S60 lbs of pin nuieo, ow peacues. Hiiu apricots. 2 JU melons, and some hundred thousand plumbs, green ga ges, apples, pears, aud some millions of cber- T" 1 H Ktrnwliiirrind ,iieliAi.i.i. . . .. . -. , . .v-, irawim, v u 1 1 a ii is, in u i Le r- J rie8, and an abundance of other small fruit, vil i walnuts, chestnuts, dry figs and plums. Ia vegetables of all kinds, 5475 lbs. weight, and ahout 243o lbs. of butter. 024 lbs of cheese. 21.- the above named provisions, which would amount . i t. t r r t r i i to no less than 10,515 gallons, which mnr be taken as below: 43 hogsheads of wine, 13CS gal lons of beer, 684 gallons of spirits, 842 gallon . of liquors, 23,304 gallons of coffee, cocoa, tea, &c. 304 gallons of milk, and 27,133 gallons of water. Tie Death-plaoe of Pontias PUatv. A legend is popular among the people ef TT- : enna, sajs tne "Journal or an Autiquary, con oeruiug the death of Pontius Pilate. The story is of a strange character, and throws a wild and pleusing interest over the locality which com memorates the event. Not far from Vienna ia i situated a small Itoxoan tower; its walls are built square, and rise to an unusual height Its lattice works overlook the waters of the riv er; aud the lofty shadows of its exterior envel. ope the shining flood winding at its base wita perpetual gloom, nnd seem to form an addition al feature of melancholy from the character of " the deed whiob is presumed to have been enac ted there. The place is called the "Tour de Maconscui." Alter the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, Pilate, broken in spirit, retired to the tower to indulge in his grief, and tG conceal hit lamentations from his unbelieviug people. litre, violently susceptible of the great wrong be felt himself to have participated in. in a paroxysm of despair he threw himself from the lofty windows of the tower, and perished in the waters of the Rhine. The Swiss have likewise their tradi tionary account of the death of lilate. At the foot of one of the Alpine mountains, called by the name of Pilate, stands a email lake; its wa ters are always in a disturbed state, and often the scene of violent ttorms. Gloom and soli tude are the leading characteristics of this nn frequcntcd place, which presents bat a wild and ill boding appearance to tho eye of the traveler. Enfeebled in body, and his mind a prey to cease less remorse, P'.late is said to have n ached tha margin of that lake, and there to have seated hiuiself and drank of its waters. An alien from his country and race without friend or solace, he resigned himself to the bit terness of his reflections, and finally t.'ircw him self into the waters at bis feet. The tranquility of the scene is said to have been changed from that time. The waters are often visited, by se vere nnd unaccountable agitations, which tha j legends say are the writhings of the troubled spirit ot mate. The adjacent mountains are shadowed all the year through, and the superstitious inhabitants of the district affirm that apparitions are fre quently to be seen in the neighborhood, and lamentations are heard upon the winds, waking the echoes of the mountain fastnesses. The sub ject has been before referred to by English trav elers, and particular allusion is made to La it Hughes's Itinerary. Tbe Cranes of Ibycns. Ibyeus, a famous lyrical poet of Greece, Jour neying to Corinth, was assailed by robbers. As he fell beneath their murderous strokes, he looked round, to see if any witnesses or avengers were nigh. No living thing was in sieht but a flight of cranes soaring high over bead. He ! called on them, and to them committed fhe avenging of bis blood. A vain commission, as it might have appeared, and as no doubt it did appear to the murderers. Yet it was not so . for soon after, as the robbers were sitting in tha open theatre at Corinth, thiy beheld this fligbtof cranes hovering over them, and one said ecooff ingly to another, "Lo, there, the avengers ef Ibyeus!" Tbe words were caught up by soma one near them, for already the poet's disappear ance bad awakened anxiety and alarm. Being questioned, they betrayed themselves " and were led to their doom, and the cranes of Ibycns pass ed into a proverb, very much as oar 'murder will out," to express tbe wondrous - leadings ef God. whereby the roost secret thing of blood b j etinay;trotiblta tie light. ; I If i IT