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