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
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or they will be published until forbidden, and
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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.
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