inani & SLOANjUBLISHERS. OLUME 24. lIISINEBB DIRECTORY R. RICOBY, 112 L ge e . Water Lime, Stucco Plaster, Field Pins _`; 0 3 Fire Brick, at his Kiln on the Waterford above the new Furnaoe, Erie Pa. Lasaber, ../ pl.tgles taken in exchange. A share of the . uge _is respectfully eoliaited. dual. - BURTONISINGL AIR, r.`311/0 11 1 TO J. Z. SITIRTON A c 0..) FAO Dealers in Drugs, Medicines, Paints, Glass, Dye Stuffs, Brushes, Pesfuseery, Dentists Findings, No. S Reed Name. R. O. L. ELLI S , sr—Oßlee and dwelling in Soati Au* rk aarmated. 2 44. DR. S. C. BROWNEL. -is?, South side of dm Public Ikisers, Id Pesch Stream, Eris, Ps. • LI. .N. " ' 70 , 1 D•Yffri • E. H. ABELL. der • Rooms over Use &is Bask, lin* Dautomi, Eris, Pa takes it the best styled the art, sad wiren to We. T. D. EDW P era Corscsit.oa at Law. Warm ha. batinats tad tall...don 141 nosh. prompt D. D. WALKER st ante and Costatiodon IffeeCbteatel, few* ,wt of the Public Bridge, NM Pa. coal, Salt. Mater, Biamo, hub. Lisa I r on, Nails; Staves, Oaatinip, Ike, with aim for ahipp ins strict by sasiuslaast; ,ocean, or by CARSON GRAHAM, COC7III/41,22 A? LAW, Gies OR hula .ore•r of tit• Park, Mile. T. W. MOORE, a ...nes, Provision', Wines, Upon, Nadia, he door below Booth I Stewart'' BtsowL TVCENT, HIMMOD & Co., .• of Stoves, Hollow Wars, Engines, *r ail:NW Can, etc., Suite St., Lie Pa. THOMAS M. AUSTIN, 'Lea or its rum or a. Looms 1 Co.) .."" c D er,s, Watenee, Jewelry, Silver Spoons, Masi -.nu, Looking Gl'Mame, Lamps and Panay le and retail. H. JARECKI. .71131. west side of State Street, Erie, Pa. L N. TIBBALS & CO. cr ram rnut or eratraa & nansts.) ,nrassion and Shipping Martha:its, and deal flour, Fish, Salt, 'Waver Line Plastsr , La, Erie, Pa. Packages intaaded for oar we muted. J. B. GUNNLSON, ,oks, Stationary. Monthly Magasines, Chas" a Sheet Mali°, Newspapers, Gold Pena, Posit ker. First door west ads* Reed House, Lie. BOOTH k STEWART, and Ronal Dealers in Faney and staple .Dry Millinery, No. 6, Poor People's Row, opposite ,sal. f...II)DELL, KEPLER & CO. -es of Iron Fence, Bailing, Steam So Firs Proof Shutters, and all kinds of KW& Icy Castings, do., dons to order. ' LARK & METCALF, retail dealers in Dry Goode, Carpets, sad No. 1 Reed Houle. JOHN B. COOK; Fancy Dry Goods, mad the Greatest es , Mete in the city, Cheap ride, Erie, Pa. STERRETT & GRAY, Abets and retail Dealers in wet and dry Oro rmnons, Prodnee, Foreign and Doniestk Felt; WLLor sad Stone Ware, Flour, Fish, Galt, Glass, Tier, ihot, Caps, Safety Fuse, Ake., &a., French cite the Reed Rouse, Erie, Pa. W3I.STLA...NE, - -- C:rur.Ltoe. st LAW.—OfEloe over Jacknou's ort!tast corner of the Public Snare. fLP,BtCKLE St. KEP,LER, sir it Groceries, Hardware, Crockery, •e. State street, Erie, Pa. DK. C. BRANDES, irtarox—Oece at his !letdown on Meath re French and Holland, Erie, Pa, 3i. SLNFORD & CO. ' i Gold, Silver, Bank Notes,Dnfte, Bert Maier to Sight - Exchange on the Find* cities (or sale. Mc* in Bestro Sleek, Publ d is, Erie. T. HERON STUART, 'aystet.a.N=Residenare on Fourth otrent, •n• Apothioary :us REED, limb, Guam and American Hardware and • Neils, Anvils, Vices, Iron and Steel No. 3 Erie, Pa. WELL & BENNETT, ' Antra, and Retail Disler, in Dry Goods, Oro tory, Glassware, .Carpeting, Hardware, Iron, , Spikes, he. Empire Stores State Serest, Rlow Brown's Hotel, Erie, Pa. VICOA, Bellows, Axle Arena, Springs, and a wtnelet of Saddle and Carriage Trimmings S. 3IERVIN SMITH, Lao and Justice of the Pow, andArant for .na Mum] Life losuranee Company—Mos o f Wright's store, Erie, Pa. - MD Intli MI iiiilllll 01 31 Girard, Erie County, Pa. Colleetious mmess attended to with prow:mu and es- JOSIAH . LOGO, toi Commission Merchant on the Public ^` State street sro and White nab, eonstantly for ale. ARTER 6; BR I HER, ketail dealers in Dray, Mediate*, PLUM, 'es, 6, Rad Hausa, Erie. MES LYTLE, . ..t Tailor, on tae public scum s fins :t street, Erie. Lv H. BURTON & • aVrall dealers in Drugs, Medicines, DP , et, de No. 5 Reed Eons', Erie. DLRLLN & SLOAN, xl school and Mist:slimming Books, n.ocery, and Printer's Cards, No. 9, Er.e & STEWART; ismazs and Scurporia. Oder and Ittetidee = eel Semodfras Streets. .%x. t., s, a. It; 1 to 2, and 6t07, P. IL JOHN HEARN kreCl. iCeremosion Mar-beats, drake i is irl agent for a daily line of Upper Lk. Doek Erie, Ps. -AN EXPRESS COMPANY, •zr , e4 to No. S Reed Look, State Reset :44.ttea eons It 11 ceelnek, A. K. 31 o'clock, P. X. — GEORGE J. MORTON, , :,,meties t en Merchant, PubDe Dock, Erin Sa:t, Fish, Moir sad Plaster. ROZENSWEIG COT - D Li If rzi Foreign and Domes. reedy mad, clothing, Boots and !bon, to. Block, State street, Erie. - - 'L&R -11 ALL A? c•w—tllProe up nun in Tsaustaay -rtz t the Prothonotary'z Aloe, RH.. MURRAY WHALIA)N, t:.iI.NSELLOR Low—Offoro over Wd -t f. entrance ou• door west of State west, ' Erie ItitEALS, lc HATES, 0..o(11, Dry Groceries, Crockery, Herd Brown's !Ise lloteL JACKSON & SON, _ Groceries, hardware, Qms•lts Waft/ N/1. 1 . te., 121, Cheapside, grie t . THORNTON. OT•RT PIIIII3CI. - • niszts, B.nis and heritages, Lew% is-, ze ruefully drains Me, Wright's Ene, Pa It• CHAPIN, amoss? Dasrerr—Olies is he Empue Block, coma of fitsiessill Fifth 144. SLreet, up iturs. Prises ressoaiibis, sad HAUNCY HULBURT, nwright, naatuigtos- and rlioyd. ' Wholesale Design LII Pore* sod DO MS \a 152 Market Street, Philsdelpkit_ _ J. W INZIUGLASSi Luir, Office up Kann in William's Bluelc, wiz v6l. a liALBSAIT law, Wks ea Sizi knot. ones* the e .1 r. TEX ICHOOL Roust Kurd Ivy the braid sad duty stessl. . Wises maples threw s molly' shimis Asd tesqssal Used of *ea We ♦ Mrs sad basso way has ask: ma Sena brae stasis*, aid sot suds. Asd Wes • soon sf years Milk and. The wisdom eertstadate sad hem An mend eft with s Wei= pww. NM the aiwillsitemal Or wintry blast best shrank pia; Lad the rade beetles sad the walla Ire rink with noes* este sad swierie. The rill tbas babbles spertliag by, ass ass a free, *strokes AM: Its Seeds quaint, aisle ugh 'gnat Awe What amiss o'er it gs AM whin b daubers AM and yid^ The beye la whiter skate lad slide. And passing by tk• MINIM Mt. Ton Mar tio ta•afft, load and sim, Peer* his moose imam Ws lA. young and Mins Mt. Pages* sad bops bk toils anand, AM bra bis nom Mir maim Md. 1... DOSIIIMMI. • plais. esateated isaa is iN, H. buss so mos imams so bum, Vie his alike word to be, 'Midst kladlisg latter, se Was.. A kusboadasss is mind's doh BA Its doom it *pried to delve sad mil Be less to gsse ea costae met, And vita this berryeat spirits dish— • hull ersetins of his sins sad here— , MO up the Ass-paved smug of Tins Slake, right hopefully, to share Their triusphs sad Sok boson then. Iry at the golds& worm &day, Crogiorpol to hail their Waco ear, TM Uhl legiewa, wild for play, Ural fee* with hello alai uproar; While down their mirth's Leaman tide All theeihte of books and lemon glide. I^Mi=l Deimmr thew ell eartk's kiagiy lane Thou. roses old selsool-bose; art Se sag , Thy sis►browaod au. sad crumbling wells Board may a precioas memory Of that Ihr past. wises WC was now, bsssas were dam sad dreams wore was. Not In high pompons mart of state, hind freedem's land! thy hopes wisbriam Ned where far life's great cambia@ wait 'trades armies, radiant sad divine, Times mightiest destinies are wrought,' Whin the young potent soul is tought. Ctoitt Li! isttliang. Ii t(:):061 So3Zol:_-!.....v0cie3:...1) Medical students are merry fellows. This is one of the settled convictions of the world. Any one who dare assert that medical students are not lively, reckless youths, would be considered very ignorant, or devoid of truth. And the world in a received opinion is right for once.— The majority of them, bred at home, the sons of wealthy parents, are sent to large cities, to pass in crowds the season of lecture; and, being sud denly removed beyond restraint, and comae nakiced by each other it is little wonder they break into youthful extravagance, that too often ends in habits of sin and misery. The short pas sage between the hospital and dissecting-room rings with laughter, and the wild exuberance of youth'blooms like a flower, rich and rank among graves. The hotel in which I have passed the winter, is in the neighborhood of a medical col lege, and my two little rooms look down upon the street along which troops of students pass laughing and chatting—in their queer dresses, Wade up of sacks, blouses, and caps. From time to time, as my healtkr,weuld permit, I have, re minded these youths, given the history of s medical student, who came from the same sunny plainsupon which I passed three of my happiest years. I give it here much curtailed, and only regret that facts cannot be made more rniextain- ing. , he scenery of the U-na-ks plains is exceed ingly beautiful and peculiar. Yet one traveling from early morn till even, over roads level as a railway, may at last become wearied with a same ness of quiet besdty that seems to be without end. But to see the specimens preserved in Frankenstein's sketches, is to have a life-pension in pictured loveliness. The green swstd, crop ped close by huge droves of cattle, stretches out for miles and miles, dotted by groves of bur-oak, interlieing their gnarled boughs, upon which the bright green foliage hangs denser than that of any other species of American tree, or thread ed by silvery rivulets that glide slowly along be tween flowery banks, as if they seemed loath to leave the paradise they adorn, or broken by lit tle wood-covered mounds that swell up like isl ands in a flowery sea; or one sees a little lake calmly mirroring the quiet heavens above, like a beautiful nun in a cloistered convent. No rocks no distant mountains melting in the hazy noon— no wide seas or sweeping rivers—no swelling up lands, yet in their own quiet way the U-na-ks plains are as beautiful as they. As the Frankensteins selected knots of still beauty to immortalise on canvass, so the Hon. William Fletcher selected a scene of exceeding beauty in the midst of which to place his home and gratify his taste for retirement, where he could look the fairest nature in tho face. A dreamy indolent man of fine intellect, he had struggled for years at the bar with various success, when, through the influence of some friends, he was el ivated to the bench, and gorily after, a near relative dying, left him an immense fortune.— The judge gave up his judgeship, presented his fine library to a nephew, and, with wife and only child, retired to his U-na-ha farm, to settle down over books and dreams for the remainder of his useless life. He would have certainly accom plished this sleepy purpose, but for the only child —a boy—who acted upon Mr. Fletcher as a corn, with the difference that love, not hats, made theyounc development of himself exceedinly troublesome. The younger Fletcher, humored by the indo lent father and fond mother, had every whim gra illed, every wish anticipated. When the educa ted eelfishness proposed breaking his neck by rid ing • oolt that seemed unmanageable, the prop siuon was acceded to by the foolish parents •mid earnest protestations, prayers, and loud lamenta tions. Fiom the time be fill from the table, in a fit of indigestion, having gorged himself with plum-cake, to his neneteenth year, when he dis charged a load of small shot from his "double-bar rel Manton into the back of John, the coachman, and cost his fathers large SIMI to keep his beir out oiled, WIT notehor had his own way— aut a bed whir is ow Tot Deily woo papas.. Stied Vottrp. ST S. A. ILACKILAS. ST MIS. LOIII&I PLAIT r=N2=23 • elassly, p'bid broith4otlied Peelin ; Love by bask 'Tideway "Thrown from its mitten" logo Gars providirsoe Boseothig eetraagot.—Dvilge elf SAL He had_ plenty of money, and no cue for it.— His nikihneN was ignorant thoughtlessness, for he did many generous acts—if they cost him lit tle trouble. His hand went to and from his well filled purse quite easily—and he flung his father's money from him like a lord. When in his nineteenth year, one pair of spark ling Meek eyes at least saw D udley dub by up on his blood mare without dislike. These eyes belonged to a little girl, the daughter of one of the Hon. Fletcher's tenants; and however beau tiful the orbs were, the setting was in keeping. A pettier specimen of Heaven's choicest handi work never peeped out in bill and woodland.— Upon the most exclusive carpets she would have been a distinguished feature, so delicate, graceful and beautiful wan she; but in the IT-na-ka wilds, she looked like a water-lily turning up its pure, Tale face from a marshy pool. Dudley, just at the age when youths, like creepers, stretch out their arms to cling to something, saw and loved the little cottager—the tenant's daughter. Dud ley had ever been gratified with all he sighed for, end, of coarse, saw no obsticle in the path to ob tain what he so earnestly admired. He waded in to plink the lily, never seeing the slime and earth-that might cling to him in the act. To do the youth justice, however, he was as sincere and honest in his hopes, as thoughtless, selfish youths ever are. He paled apace—his appetite, came like country cousins, unexpectedly; he read - much poetry, and wandered about at unseasonable hours. His fond, good mother, mid the private tutor kept Dudley too close at his books. The Hon. Fletcher said the boy had the dyspepsia— the tutor hinted the truth, but no one would lis ten. How the youth prospered in his wooing, the tutor himself soon had striking proof. This pri vate pedagogue was a large, dirty man who wore his hair standing on end, and kept his nails in mourning. Somewhat indignant at not being heard when he suggested the real cause of Dud ley's trouble, this mortal made himself. commit tee of one, to investigate and report. By close watching he discovered that his pupil was in the habit of stealing out at a late hour of the night to stroll past the cottage, whistling as he went a popular melody. By closer observation he dia. oovered that soon after this performance, a white little fairy flitted by and disappeared in the wil low grove, that fringed the brook. Ah! its! thought the tutor, we will have occular proof.— He gave himself up to a few days' hard thinking, which resulted in a plot. One dark night, short ly after,he had the Hon. Fletcher and his hope ful in deep discourse, while the mother sat with her knitting close by, throwing in a few maternal remarks upon Dudley's ill-health and close application, the redoubtable tutor wrapped himself comfortably in the idea of a successful trick, and stalked past the cottage and whistled, well as he was able, the popular melody. Then he stole into the willow grove. The night, as I have said, was dark and stormy. The heavens, veiled by heavy clonal', gave no light, and the willows swung to and fro in the fitful winds that swept through them. The tutor listened—he heard a quick, light step, and turned. Alas! no loving arms were clasped around his neck, but, in their place, a cudgel fell upon his nose, break ing down that important feature. Th e . blow knocked the tutor down, but recovering, with a wild cry of murder, he fled—his speed greatly in missed by a shower of thumps that for a while rained upon his back. He reached the house, and, with a face like Banquo's, rushed through the library, frightening the Hon. Fletcher, wife i and son terribly. The next morning the elder Mr. Fletcher was wondering what confounded scrape that fool tu tor had been in. Thomas Wickley, the father of the pretty Mary, entered his apartment. He came in,, as justly indignant /ethers always do upon the stage, and told his story very much as Reynolds or Co an would have had him. "You say in has been paying improper attention to you da hter?" I 4„).” • "And that you beat him for it?" "Yea—and I guess be carries the marks this morning, for I made them last night." The Hon. Fletcher opened wide his blue eyes, and then burst into a roar of laughter. Wick ley looked at the unseasonable merriment sullen and indignant. The Hon. Fletcher smooth.. his wrinkled front immediately. "Excuse me, sir, my merriment is out place. I feel deeply for you—but I can soon oonvince you of a slight mistake." "No you can't" was the rude response. "Yes, I think I can; and let me assure you, I give no countenance to such things. If you wish, they shall be married, or this fellow must quit my house. Wait one moment, I have sent for my son." "Judge Fletcher, you are an honest man, if you are rich," began Wiekley, when he was in terrupted by the entrance of Dudley. The young man started when be saw the visitor; but his face was as smooth as youth and soap could make. "You say you beat my eon last night—be did no leave the house: You say you beat him—he certainly does not.look in that plight." The man stared, evideney puzzled; but fumb ling at his pocket, he pulled out a bundle of let ters, and spread them before his honor. "I don't know who I did beat last night. I did beat some one, that's a fact. But may be you'd tell me who writ them?" The judge took the first papers. It was Dud ley's writing, and, at arm's length, looked fright fully like poetry. He examined it closely, and found a lyric of seventeen verses, of an amorous, mystic character. The reader mast not think me romancing if I give as specimens a few lines of the best. Men in love will spin out just such gossamer threads, that, floating in the merry sunlight of youth, look very beautiful. A steady member of the bar, wbo, I doubt not, is at this moment in his dull, grim office, pouring over musty law boob, looking as if the jingle of a rhyme would be as annoying as a poor client, did, once upon a time, address volumes of verse to me, until he found that I was in a fair mood to label all as "rejected addresses," when he sud denly took to special pleading with eminent sw oon. To poor Dudley' s poetry. 'Tis led, tweet May, to part with thee, Nara end than words only tell; To give thy form to memory, To breathe a lug farewell; How long thy every thought and nose Of mine have been a part; And now to tread life's path alone, Oh! well may break my heart, As the dew is to the drooping Gower As night-stars to the sea, As molted to the summer boar, Is thy sweet voice to lac OW ;mile May—fool unity beast= Oh! wild-bird of the wood; Thy Wier nature grows my part Of all that's pin sod good. "Did you write this star" asked Use biker, after he had, with cruel deliberation, read the seventeen verses, while Dudley stood by, his fate covered with blushes. "I did, sir." "Ana what do you mean by it—am I to un derstand that you have been secretly addressing this man's daughter?" "Yes, sir. I love Mary Wiekley,sta intend to marry her." This little speech had been cuddly prepared in antieipa&i of last such a Nene; and Dadley inteadd to speak 11 boldly and well, as the prn• face to an eloquent effort in behalf of virtuous love sad a outings omit Bat, alas! between the softiies ea the est by a wide diteeesee. $1 50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. ERIE, SATURDAY, APRIL 1, 1854. He faltered oat the first sentence, and the last words died, suffocated in his throat; and he stood before the cold, calm face of the judge, mbre like a criminal than an advocate. Mr. ickley was qu it e as t on i s h e d and puzzled at Judge Fletcher's not following up his bold, virtuous sentence of marriage or expulsion. Mary's far ther was dismissed with vague promisee of jus tice, and Dudley `locked in his room. After which, Judge Fletcher, wife and tutor, went into solemn deliberation with closed doors. The re sult of that consultation was kdetermination to send Dudley into honorable wile. "He is old enough to enter Upon the stud Y of a profession," said the judge, "and we will place him i n D octor Calomel's office, and let him live with his aunt, Mrs. Col. Hays. He will see something of the world, and be cured of absurdities in behalf of love and poverty." The dim twilight of the next early dawn saw Dudley seated by the driver upon the stage, and, as h e f e l t t h e h uge affair swing under him , the horses trotting . briskly along, the cool fresh reeze fanning cheeks, and birds making vo cal the road-aide, he sensation was not that of the utter desolati that fell upon the heart of the little girl who saw the blushing morn and merry birds through tears. The one had change of scene, and elegant solitude, leisure and quiet to minister to his miseries—the other choked down her grief before a harsh unfeeling pare n t, and turned to weary drudgery, lightened by no kind words, no looks of gentle sympathy. Save us from our friends should read—Lord, save us from our natural guardians. Dudley, in the midst of the vast city, opened his books under the guidance of Doctor. Calomel and entered society under the guardianship of Mrs. Col. Hays. Dr. Calomel taught him the grand mystery of dosing—Mrs. Col. Hays gave him lessons in the sublime mystery of being dosed. This lady, elegant, beautiful, and rich, had great sway in what is considered "the world." Her house was thronged with fashionable non entities—her will undisputed, and her wishts carefully considered by a dozen other families, who held in common with her iron sway over so ciety. She was cold, correct, graceful—in fact, a thorough-bred woman of the world. No stain had ever fallen upon her snowy character, she turned with freezing dignity upon the slightest departure from rectitude, and yet was the most perfect teacher of vice Satan ever commissioned. Dudley was dazzled and delighted; and when be compared the splendor of his aunt's drawing room, satined, alippered,powdered and perfumed, the contrast between Mary—poor little Mary— and those faahibnables in his mind, was great; and when Mrs. Col. Hays made a, casual allu sion to "little love-scrapes" in the country, shame entered and took side with love. He did not love her less, but he pitied her more; and the brave thought of an humble home a nd happy fireside took flight, never, never to return. Mrs. Col. Hays7—lady of Col. Cabell Hays— had some unseen spirit whispered harshly in your ear, while you were sitting in your cushioned pew, listening to that divine man, the Rev. The- • odors Smoothe, preach from a marble pulpit, up on the righteousness of right and the sinfulness of' sin, that you had opened a rosewood door and shown the downward path carpeted and beauti ful to a poor, innocent boy, that, under your care, was hastening on to misery and death—what an awful chill would have fallen upon your soul. ' Yet this is what you have to answer for; and no beautifully sculptured stone, telling of a virtu ous wife and Christian neighbor, will save you! Dudley continued to love the little May, he , could not help that; but it was nut with the pure love that once made life so beautiful. Ho wrote long, harping letters frequently to her, and re ceived long truthful letters in return. With what a heating heart she stole in the crowd that thronged the village post-offiee upon the day the great coach came in. and sitting timidly upon a coil of rope, beard her name called out by the greasy post master, as ho sorted over the letters. With what ' a trembling hand she gave the pay and hastened • Sway with the dear unopened letter. How she hid herself in retired places, in the woods, in the cellar or garret, and read and read, through tears ' of joy, the delicious poison. What Dudley re-' oeived in his gay life he transmitted in letter to the poor girl. How the hearisickeniat the mis- I erable lies that line a way like this. A year rolled by, and Dudley returned to pass a summer's vacation at his father's house. How changed they found him. No longer a willful, bashful boy, he now came out in all the colors of an accomplished, impudent, empty-headed scamp. I will not pause to tell of his meetings with Mary—of the many hours puled together without the knowledge of parents or friends.— Six weeks fled by, and Dudley returned to his books, to society, to vices he now followed up with an eagerness that can only be accounted for by a restless desire to drown all remembrance of the past. He received letters frequently from Mary, long, sad, wretched letters, blotted with tears. He answered deem with hasty scrawls, one note to a dozen letters, and at last ceased to answer them at all. He ceased to study, his nights were passed in brawls, drunken orgies, his days in sleeping off the effect of bad wine and ex hausting revelry. I bare not the heart to detail the sufferings of poor little Mazy. How she toiled on from day t..) day, between sleepless nights of agony and shame, until her cheeks seemed wasted away by tears. Her parents, suspecting the truth, treated her harshly; Summer had faded into autumn, and autumn into winter. Weeks era weeks had gone by without a word from Dudley. When tilled with despair, one night, after a harsh lec ture from her misguided father, she promised on the morrow to tell him all. With this promise she was permitted to retire, but not to rest. Soon as the door of her little room was closed, she sat down and wrote to her parents the-bitter truth. Then gathering her cloak about he shoulders, she fled into the dark, wintry night. She would go, she would seek Dudley, for what purpose she could not ssy—but at home there was no hope, no life. Through the long dismal night the poor girl walked along the rough frozen road that led to the city. Over wide dreary fields that seemed to stretch out in the gloom of night, miles and miles away: through groaning woods, that shriek ed in the winds as they rubbed their giant arms together; past farm houses—with windows, from which twinkled little lights, and where the deep mouthed irateh4og bayed fierce and honestly; through sleep!ng villages where the winds swept, making the sigzu, creak dismally, the once timid and delicate girl pushed on. She had no fear, far the had no thought for the present. In the resent, there lay a dull, acking pain about her kaart, all the test of her fevered being was far oft, is the huge, great city with Dudley. The little, timid, commonplace girl was now a hero ine. In her father's cottage her mother walked quietly about her pleasant duties, singing a low, sadiselody that her children might sleep—the fire was sparkling brightly upon the hearth, light ing up the walls and rafters of that-holy place, while she, the dearest, loveliest of all, was flee ing alone, in the stormy, night, far, far away. That night wore slowly on, and toward morn ing the rear-guard of the northern storm came hurrying by. In scattered groups of hosts, as if flying from a foe, the great clouds relied down over the distant horizon, and left the bright stars sparkling coldly in the clear atmosphere of the winteses night. Then came morning, and the winds eared. The earth seemed waiting resrltiinslame far the &ions sem Mary—sick, tired Mary—saw nothing of this.— She staggered on, sometimes falling, but again getting up and hurrying on. About noon the stage came by, and the driver, seeing a frail creature—almost a child—walking weariedly, in cited her to ride. She mechanically sacepted.-- Inside the vehicle—all closed in with carpet lin ing, that seemed to flap the cold air about, and smelled of old leather—she found 'two passen gers. One, a countryman, shivering in a wool sej over-cost; the other, so lost in a Buffalo robe, he could not be made out. Mary seated herself upon the middle seat, but a lurch of the stage threw her forward upon the buffalo robe, which unrolled, and an old gentleman peered savagely out. displaying a wrinkled front, in which age had more to do than anger. He was about ut tering an ugly exclamation, when the sighs of Mary's sad, pale, young face checked him; and, moving over, he not only gave her a seat, but in sisted upon foiding a part of the warm robe about her. In a few moments the poor girl fell wearied swot) the shoulder of her companion . into sleep. The old man looked kindly down on the pale, thin face, over which he saw traces of tears, and beneath the cross exterior, a heart throbbed kind ly for the suffering girl. Wondering what could bring grief to one so young, he saw the lips quiver, and tears well out from the veiled eyes —then sobs that came up like bubbles drowning hope; and these passed away, and a gentle smile settled upon the fair face, as a mellow sunset upon a wintry scene. She was dreaming—the voice of her mother broke upon her ear, kind, gentle, fogiving; and he was there—the past all forgotten, the future all brigtnesa. Sleep on, poor wretch: let the rough vehicle rock gently, and the strong horses trot evenly along, for she who now, in happy forgetfulness, moves swiftly on to death. Could the impenetrable curtain of the future be lifted from before each of us as we take our last ride, not only the criminal seated in his rude cart would bhudder. What ,gay equippages, flashing along, would be turned to funeral marches, with at least one sincere mourn er for the doomed and lost. What humble fam ily groups, with hope in their midst, wending their way to church or home, would see earth darken down in gloom and tears. But, thank kind Heaven: the dread unknown comes silently on, with all shadows behind; and we laugh .n . 5 cry, as joys or cares possess us, up to the very second when his iron hand is at our heart, and eternity opens before us. (TO BR CONCLUDED 'NEXT WILEX.) G.ra Literatura The'following "Gem Foreign Literature," from the .flitarra, in the language of Gery Von Knipperhauaer, the . Dutch eiitie, "tab goot?' Fuss the German oi Beuersei Biakklaaaw►. Tar Baum SmE or Lows.—Midnight veiled the heavens with inky blaeknese as Brans Von Rosenbatun stepped from orgied halls of the Kin kel lArr haus Zum Sausund Brans. The foam of the beer still dashed his wild beard, and the murmur of the evening breese mingled in his soul with the memories of cries fur "another pretzel!" and "pring in de Liger:" and the thril ling of harps and—for it had been concert night. "Kara-ri-nal" he cried from the bottom of his heart and voice--Kat-a-ri-nal—tome herans!" The breeze sighed in the vine leaves—the waves was still. Once more in agony rose that cry—"Bat,a-ri. ea!" • Deep from the recesses of the second story window murmured an answer. ".11rsa. brass he rause." ' "Vot—yoi can't kola oat!" roared Hans, in all the grief of rejected love. "De= mit der teuhl and be dondered! Go • 11.18- hochschwerehoth!" A brick flew from his hand, skimmed through the misty. air—there wail s the jingle of broken glass—s, cry in female Dutch—and all was silent. Still wanders in dark,midnights the spectral form of Hans Von Rosettanm around that dwel ling, still rings from the window the ghostly try of "nix koinm Aerosols" still wings its way on the night wind a Phantom briCk bat; and still tl'►e benighted traveler hears at last a dismal wail in Dutch. All things in heaven and on earth are re-echoed and reflected in their ghosts or in their shadow. Love =ire. Si. Charles street w esterday thrown into a high state of excite tby an attempt on the part of a woman to kill a man in the billiard rooms of the St. Charles Hotel; and, indeed the attempt was but too near successful. John Hit selbnrg.er, the victim, was the gamekeeper of the billiard-rooms, and had charge of the apartments by night and by day. Occasionally, a girl nam ed Bridget Quinn had been employed, after the rooms were closed IA night, to scrub and clean them, and generally the game-keeper remained in the rooms to look after his cues and balls.— Daring these midnight scrubbings it is said that John made very improper advances to Bridget, and, indeed, went so far as to encompass her ruin by triumphing over her virtue. When Mrs. Bridget Murphy, the mother of Bridget Quinn, learned how matters stood, her ire became uncon trollable, and summoning her daughter to her side, she repaired, armed with a huge and keen edged knife, to the billiard-room in search of John. It was shortly after mid-day when the two arriv ed, and every table was surrounded by anxious players. Even John had a cue in his hands, and was glorying over the fact that he had just made a run of thirty, which he concluded by pocketing both of the dark balls and thereby ter minating the game in his favor. The younger Bridget sent for the gay knight of the cue, and stood apart with him for a time in earnest con ! vexation. What the conversation was, we could not learn; yet, certain it is that, before it ended, the elder Bridget approached, whispering some ! thing hissingly into the ear of-Hitselburger, and then plunged the knife (which she had hitherto concealed beneath her mantle) thrice into his body. The daughter, when she saw what her mother had done, seised her with frantic grasp in order to prevent her from again using her knife. In the mean time Hitselburger staggered and fell, and was eventually conveyed to the Charity Hos pital, where but small hopes of hie recovery are entertained. Both the mother and the daugh ter were arrested, endue held to await the result of Hitaelburger's wounds.—N. 0. True Delta. Jason Buaa's Wuz.—The Paris Potrie of a late date has the following: "At the last Tuille ries ball, the brilliant toilette of a stranger, with an incredible number of diamonds, attracted the attention of all present. In a moment the at tention was changed to the most intense curioei ty, when Louis Napoleon was observed to accost the lady_ and remain some momenta in conversa tion. The enigma wu soon solved. The lady wee the widow of - Mr. Aaron Burr, formerly Vice President of the United States, with whom Lois Napoleon was on terms of intimacy while in that country, and at the end of fifteen years he had recognised the widow of his old American friend." This probably alludes to Madame Ju mel, the wealthy second wife of Col. Burr, who I obtained a divorce from him a few yews previ ous to his decease. She crams a large lan-d es. tats on the islind of Malta—Oincianati /Dr pm; ROW MIL RUSSIANS WAGE WAR. The Sack of Lagoon: On the Ist of August, 1849, about 9 o'clock in the morning, ninety Rus-dan soldiers, com manded by ten officers, arrived at Losoncs.— They halted in the public square, and while the officers were breakfasting in the nearest tavern, the soldiers scattered around among the baker shops of the town. They had been scarcely fif teen minutes engaged in regaling themselves there, when the place was suddenly surrounded by a column of 150 Hungarian gderillsts, who rushed upon their bawd foes with unexpected impetuosity, Three Russian officers were killed; the rest, with all the common soldiers, were cap tured, excepting only a few who managed to es cape. After this feat the guerillas withdrew. When they at length departed, the bodies of the Rua sians were buried in the common ditch. It was not long, however, before the rumor reached Losouez that General Grabbe had aworn to take vengeance on the town far the surprise of his soldiers. At length, on Aug. 7, the affrighted inhabitants learned that the enraged Russians were within an hour's march of them. All who had vehielee at their disposal at once hurried away, but the largest portion were compelled to remain. The cholera was committing its reve res in the town, and nearly every family had dead member, to bury or sick to tend. :The town was speedily surrounded by the Russian advanced guard, composed of Cossacks, whose first measure was tocut off all retreat for those who might still endeavor to escape.— "Hungarian dogs:'' they cried to the unfortn , nate fugitives, as they drove them back with clubs. Ere long, a Russian major presented hiniself at the Town Hall, and the municipality having secreted themselves, or taken to light, named a magistrate and ma for among the town's people present, imposing upon the place a ransom of '7,000 rations of bread, 100 oxen, 100 quintals of lard, 200 bushels of vegetables, 100 cords of wood, 100 casks of wine, 25 casks of alcohol, 100 casks of brandy, 50,000 rations of hay, 500 bushels of oats, and 20 quintals of tobacco. This exorbitant ransom was laid upon the town, with an accompahyiug threat that if it were nbt paid by 8 o'clock the next morning, the place should be destroyed. To satisfy such de mand was impossible, for a few days previously the army of Gorgey, add the corps of General Saes had consumed nearly all the provision that could be found in the neighborhood. Yet every exertion was made, and then the deputation of burghers presente d themselves at the head-quar ters of Gen. Grabbe, to reach which, it was ne cessary to pass through the Russian army. At first free passage was refused them; they were insulted,. beaten and threatened with deatle but after having been subjected to much ill-treat: meat, succeeded in making their way to Gen. Grabbe, who, received them brutally, although at the same time promising to spare the innocent. But, by afternoon, the pillage began in some of the streets. The officers, to con sole the inhabit mats, told them there should be no burning : — But the soldiers were more frank in announcing the truth. At last night came—and what a night:' About 10 o'clock, a troop of Cossacks dashed in to the town and drove the inhabitants towards themeutetery, where the Russians slain by the gu4rillaa had been interred. There, they were ordered CO open the pit in which the dead soldiers had been deposited, and ss they were about to do so with mattock and spade, there rose' a yell from their foes: "With your nails, dogs that! ye are:" and they were forced to obey. The general pillage commenced after midnight. The i signal was given by a blast of truespets. The regiments parsed, in, one after another. This! thronging host, constantly renewed, did not con tent itself with pillaging the houses, but they even tore from the inhaitants their clothing, not excepting their linen and shoes. Those who did not yield to this outrage with a good grace, were regaled by a shower of blows. All were soon reduced to a eindition bordering on com plete nudity. Of eotuee, the principal derailed was for the money, and slide they had none, they were lacerated with cuts of the kenterkek The last. regiments, finding nothing more to take, avenged themselves for the disappointment by unheard of erueltie4. Officers as well as women soldiers, shared iu the booty. When all the stoleu articles heti been convey- ed to the Russian camp, some of the battalions re-entered the town with pitchforks sad' sticks, and broke to pieces everything they had not been; able to carry away. , They did not leave a single article' of furniture entire. Descending into the cellars, they bilged all the wine they could not 'drink. The excesses committed by those drunk en barbarians surpassed ail that any one could imagine or dare to describe. 1 . will say nothing of the outrages committed upon women andgirls. Although an eye-witness, I een scarcely believe them. This much, however, I will say, that nei ther the churches nor the resting places of the dead were respected. This sack, of which the like has never, perhaps, been elsewhere commit ted, lasted thirty - six home. During that whole time the town was surrounded so that no one could pass out of it. The destruction was com plete, the ruin_was total—but even all that was -not enough. On the 9th of August, fire was applied to all the houses. The fragments of broken furniture, were heaped up in the centre of the rooms and fire set to them with torches prepared for the pate pose. By a refinement of cruelty, while this un fortunate town was burning, the Rusaian regi mental bands played their national airs. The flames, the savage music, the ferocious yells and laughter, mingled with cries of despair from a wild throng of naked, maltreated, famished and frantic people, made up a catalogue of horrors that cannot be conceived. In a few hours the whole town was in flames. Those who attempted to extinguish the confla gration—a vain effort at best—were beaten back by the patrols, who even drove many of the in habitants into the flames. Towards evening the heat became insupportable , and the wretched survivors were led to Apa;falra, where it was told them they were to be massacred.' But this menace produced no affect upon them; they had already suffered too much for that, and so they were permitted to live, as the worst punishment that could be inflicted upon them. Bat in order to make their work complete, on the next day, while the army was commencing its march, they were assembled, and five francs given to each one, with the following words: "Strict investiga tion has been made, and we have discovered that the town was fired, not by Russians, but by guer rillas disguised as peasants." After this unblushing and infamous falsehood, the army moved off, and the wretched townspeo ple returned to gaze upon the smoky rains of their dwellings, so lately the homes of peace and comfort. 510 KING IX A STAGE. The late Mr. Clay was a man of great resolu tion and considerable daring. He onoe told the following anecdote to a friend of ours: Traveling in early manhood in a public conveyance in a Southeastern State he found himself in a com pany of three other persons, consisting of a young lady and gentleman, her husband, and an indi vidual muffled in a cloak, whose countenance was concealed, and who appeared to be indulging in a lele-a4cte with Morpheus. Suddenly a big, " -3000111tir, *-4,403,10110 r.:2! B. F. SLOAN, EDITOR. NUMBER 46• brawny Kentuckian got into the coach, smith% a cigar, and frowned fiercely around, as much as to say, "I'm half horse, half alligator, the yaUer tower of the forest, all brimstone but the head and ears, and that's atriafortis." In fact, he looked as savage as a meat•axe, and puffed forth huge volumes of smoke, without rvierksee to rile company within, especially the lady, who masii fested certain timid :iymptoms or annoyance.— Presently, after some whispering, the gentlemee with her, in the politest accent, T.:guested the stranger not to smoke ' as it annoyed his comps ion. The fellow answered, "I reckon nro paid for my place. I'll smoke .as mach ea I dare please, and all h-1 shan't stop me, no how."—.. With that he looked lagers and rolled his eyes round as fiercely as a rattic.anake. I; mie evident that he had no objection to a querimi, and that if it occurred it was likely to lead.* a deadly struggle. The young man who had q 4 ken to him shrunk back and was silent. Clay felt his gallantry 4rottsed. He ocositine ed for a moment whether he should inter/Ink but experienced a natural reluctance to draw q on; himself the brutal violence of his gigantic versary. In that lawlvis country, he knew lide. life might be sacrificed nuavenged. He karw himself physically unequal to the contest, and bee thought, after all, it was sot his Waimea ea, ()amity, to take up another man's quarrel. Fri ing pity for the insulted, and disgust toward the insulter, he determined to take no notice, Walk very quietly indeed, the cloaked figure in the coe tier assumed an upright position, and the man tled was suffered to fail from it without effort of excitement. The small but sinewy frame of a man, ph*, dressed in a tightly buttoned frock coat, will ba thing remarkable about his appearance, was sees, and a pair of bright grey eyes sought the flatus optics of the ferocious Kentuckian Without word, this "lay figure" passed his hand under his collar at the back of hi. neck, and slowly awl deliberately pulling forth a long--extremely long—and glittering sheath in that singular place. "Stranger," he said, "my name is Col. James Bowie, well known in Arkansas and Lou isiana, and if you don't put that c•igar out of the window in a quarter of a minute, I'll pat this knife through your bowels, as sure as death." Clay said he never forgot in after life the ex pression of the Colonel's eyes at that moment. The predominant impression Lnade upon him um the certainty of the threat being fulfilled, and at. parmtly the same conviction impressed itself ens hOng upon the offender. During two or three se- Onds his eyes met those of Bowie. He was the weaker, and he quailed. With a curse he toms the cigar from between his teeth, and tanf scowling, but downcast, out of the window. Gpes this Col. James Bowie as deliberately Named his long knife in its eccentric hiding place, ask without saying a word to any one, refolded ilk cloak around him, and did 'not utter another slip lable to the end of the journey.—Quartesir &- view of January. • (11110 tee lk. Louie kopubl.cau-1 The Captors of Res. wilum—Th• Two Bop - Witk Her Fogad. Fon WAstrrA, CuocrAw NATION, Ckickasatc Lhitrict, Feb, 11, 1854. j I read in your paper of 24th ult. (received here last mail) a thrilling and interesting mum five of the capture mid escape of Mrs. Jana M aline Wilson, by the Camanche Indiana, islet summer, by idiom she and her two broOms-ia-- law (boys) were taken off prisoners. The facts and the particulate of Mrs. Wilsoa's capture, and the two boys, near the fort, "Phes . tom Hill," Texas, are corroborated by the men facts related to me here, by the discharged sol dier, alluded to by her in her narrative, (the sol dier having passed this way to Arkansas) also, In relation to the Mexican driver being scalps& and sliot, as Mrs. W. reloteo. The 'oldie: soot- ed here, on his arrival, that be was unable is keep up to the wagon with Mrs. Wilson sad tbn two boys, the Mexican driving, and as his Iwo t was worn ddwn, and on coming up t~ it hc found the woman and both bp gone, the wagon rob bed 4 of all its Demen ts ulna gone al* i, and toe Mexican driver lyin rdo warn, itts!nAiss„, having been shot and ref The soldier carried. ' him tossing' stream near by, washed his woman, and afterwrds carried him for several clay?on hie . heck.. They were thistitute of provision*, the Indians having stolen all_ from the wagat.--r- They lived for some days on the remains of se areass of a dead ox, found by the road side, Niue to qld.rarn for a knife, being the only inii meet the soldier had-to cut. After several days,slow travelling, they mitr ed at "Phantom Hill's- . p i r t. 'then the soldier left the Mexican, recovering. Nothing has hen beard on this fr ontier of the tw boys alluded to in Mrs. Wilson narrative, until ten days siege, when one about twelve 7 e.rs old= George Washington Wilson. was t in near here, by Aaron Brarn,, intellige nt , Chickasaw Indian, 'who lives near this pct.— He had been out with some . hawneLs-fer tin last four months, tradi ng for males with Csentirk. ehes. They found the, white boy, witit4he Ca =riches, in a very destitutZ• tiondition respectin - g clothing, having but felt rags on his person / . Aaron Brown, with the characteristic noble ness of heart peculiar to his tribe, seeing the boy in captivity, and badly used, proposed t. ing some goods for him. i A few days passed WON' the trade was concluded. After giving sevwul hundred dollars worth lof goods for the boy, de Catnanches wanted to draw bargain, they =obi extort more, ass they perceive I Brown 'melee el a desire to have the lad. A few days sins. I heard from Fort Arbuckle, situated sixty-be miles west of this post, 'that a abfte boy had beast brougfit in the ..v by wine friendly Indians, vie had bought him from the Cainanehes lately.— This boy proves to be the other brother-in-law of Mm. Wilson, showing that all the captives ass nove l safe. Steps will be taken to restore dem to their friends. Very respectfully, SAMUEL C. HUMES, Sutler, U. S. L. A POLISRED Juvumn,v. —James i flub young gentleman about fourteen or Mims years of age, who dresses iu the highest styles( the latest fashion, and who is favored by heal= with a very pretty, girlish, and innocent-looth% face, was arrested on Tuesday evening, at the lake end of the Pontchartrain railroad, ea a chine of having picked a lady's pocket of a purse containing $5O. The youngster maintains a brazen and independent port, and talks of his rights as an American citizen in an air which would shame the most ultra of know-nothings. He had money to a considerable amount emanat ed in four different parts of his dress, and stated that he was a Philadelphia gentleman, who, with out stealing, could afford to board at the et. Charles. He has of late driven fast horses two or three times a week to the Lake Hotel. whoa he eats costly dinners, which he washes dont with champagne. A few ilights ago he, is dm dress of a sentimental misl, fascinated a anti' official functionary at a masquerade ball, sad at length, pretending to yield to the persuasions of the gay deceiver, went away with him. This OF snit, m may be easily imagined, was profoundly ridiculous. A thousand other stories are wig about the pranks of young Williams, but Ira se. serve them till his case comes up for miaow lion.—N._ 0. Delta. About 400 men, women and children kumialat arrived at St. Louis from Denmark, mar* a. to the Salt Lake "matey. KM
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