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®Tic, sznxazz a zvc - .0). cma,
THEODORE H. CREMER,
The "Jou asst." will be published every Wed
nesday morning, at $2 00 a year, if paid in advance,
and if not paid within six months, $2 50.
No subscription received for a shorter period than
six months, nor any paper discontinued till all ar
rcarages are paid.
Advertisements not exceeding ono square, will be
inserted three times for $1 00, and for every subse
quent insertion 25 cents. If no definite orders aro
given as to the time an advertisement is to be continu
ed, it will be kept in till ordered out, and charged ac
NV. IL Mosni•, R 11. kiitiutitinv.
HAVRE DE GRACE, MARYLAND
nrr4VING taken the large and commodi
sal/ ous Wharf and Warehouse situated di
rectly on the Canal Basin, are now prepared
to receive consignments el goods for tran
shipment or sale.
A general assortment of Groceries, Bcc.,
consisting of Loaf and Brown Sugars, Cofftte,
Molasses, Sp •rm Oil and Candles. White,
Yellow and Brown Soaps, Fish, Salt, Plaster,
etc., together with all kinds of Spices and
Paints—and also ready made Clothing will
be kept constantly on hand and disposed of
on city terms or exchanged for country pro
duce, Coal, Bcc.
April 19 1843.-3 m.
THE GIRARD LIFE INSURANCE,
la ) SlEDglital2
OP,PIMI.LJDE.LI 3 III4,
Office No. 59 Chesnut Street
Make insurances of lives, grant anninuities
and Endowments. and receive and ex,cute
Rates for insuring SICO, no a single life.
Age. For 1 year. For 7 years. For life
$0 95 81 77
1 36 2 36
1 83 3 20
2 09 4 60
30 1 31
40 1 69
50 1 96
60 4 35
EXAMPLE :—A person aged 30 years, by
his faintly or
irs jbloo, 5
3 1 1 1 Cldttile sr
year—or for $l3 10 at, secures to them 8:000
Or for 813 60 annually for 7 years, he se
cures to them 81000 should he die during
the. 7 years—or I .r 823 60 paid annually du
ring life he providt s fir thi m 1000 dollars
whenever lie dies— fir 865 50 tin y mkt re
ceive 5000 dollars, should lie die in no ye;ir.
Further particulars respecting Life Insur
ance, Trusts, or management of Estates and
property confided to them, may be had at
B NV. RICH NIIDS, Pi esideut
JNO. F. J NAIES, Actuary.
Pliira. April 19. 1843.-6 m.
DAY, GERRISH & CO.
GE FlitL PRODUCE,
Commission and Forwarding
Granite Stores, lower side of Race street,
on the Delaware, Philndelphta.
RESPECTFULLY inform their friends
and the merchants generally, that they
have taken the large Wharf and Granite
Front Stores. ' known as Ridgeway ' s Stores,
immediately below Itace street, ta addition
to their old wharf, where they will con
tinue the produce commission business, as
also to receive and forward goods [toll points
on the Juniata, and North and West branches
ot the nusqueltanna Rivers. via. the Tide
Water,lnti Pennsylvania, and Schuylkill and
This establishment has many advantages
over any other in the city in point of room
and convenience for the accommodation of
boats and produce. Being one of the largest
wharves on the Delaware, and the stores
extending from Water street to Delaware
Front. Five or six boats may at the same
tim tbe loading nod discharging. The usual
facilities will be given on all consignments
entrusted to theircharke,which will be thank
fully received and meet with preempt atten
tion. Salt, Fish and Plaster, constantly on
band and for sale at the lowost market price.
J. Ridgway,Esq. J Brock, son & Co
Jacob Lex & Sun Waterman & Osbourn
Mulford& Alter Scull & Thompson
Wilson, Seigel' & Bro E J Ettie,g & tiro
Bray, Barcrott & o Morris, Patterson &co
Lower & Barrow. •
I & J Milliken A & G Blimyer
Patterson & Horner J McCoy, Esq.
Stewart & Horrell R W Wike, Esq.
February 8,1841-6 m.
BOOTS AND SHOES.
Leghorn and straw Bonnets,
PALMLEAF AND LEGHORN HATS.
Merchants and others from Huntingdon
and adjacent places, are respectfully reques
ted to call and examine the stock of the above
kinds of gods, which is full and extensive,
and which will he sold at prices that will
give satisfaction to purchasers, at No. 168
Market, street south-east corner of sth street,
GEO. W. 8t LEWIS B. TAYLOR.
Pike. Feb. 6, 1843.-6ino.
BLANK DEEDS, of an improved
form, for sale at this office.
Ms° BLANK PETITIONS FOR
N.ITUII AIN ATIONT.
The following beautiful lines were written by a
clergyman, on the death of a child.
I have a son—a dear loved son, his age I cannot toll,
For they reckon not by years and months, where he
has gone to dwell.
To us for fire and twenty months, his infant smiles
And then he bade farewell to earth, and went to live
I cannot tell what form his is—what looks he wear
Nor guess how bright a glory crowns his shining
The thoughts which fill his sinless soul, the bliss
whirls he cloth feel,
Arc numbered with the secret things which Cod will
But I know, (for God both told me this) that he is
now nt rest,
Where other blessed infants be—on their Saviour's
I know his spirit tiJels no more this weary load of
But his sleep is blest with endless dreams of joy
I know the angels fold tim—close beneath their
And soothe him with a song that breathes of hea
ven's (Evillest things.
I know that wo shall meet our babe-,(his mother
dear and I,)
Where God shall always wipe away all tears front
Whate'er befalls those that remain, his bliss can
Their lot may here be grief and fear, but his is cer
It may be that the tempter's wiles, their souls from
bliss may sever,
But if our own poor faith fail not, he must be ours
When we think of what our darling is, and what
we still must be,
Whets we muse on that world's perfect bliss, and
this world's misery--
When we groan beneath this load of sin, and feel
this grief and pain—
We'd rather lose those that remain, than have him
here again !
From Graham's Magazine.
Thou art not bore.
Thou art not here ! I seek, alas'
In vain, thy well known form to see,
And list to hear those words of love,
Which once wero wont to welcome me,
But silence, gloomy silence reigns,
Where lute, thy blessed presence shed
Light, life and rapture. Can it be,
That I must mourn thee, loved one—dead l
'Tis all too true. I mark'd the blight
Of fell disease upon thy cheek;
And watch'd, with anguish'd eoul, the signs
Which, plainer far than words', could speak.
The doom of one so fair, so young,
So twined, by every sacred tie,
Around lay heatt—and then I felt,
How bitterly ! that thou must die.
Thou art not here—but here are they,
6we2t scions of the parent stein,
The loved and living ties, which bound
Us to each other and to them.
I trace thy features in each face—
In every grace thy charms appear—
Thus, whilst I press them to my heart,
I feel, beloved one, thou art near.
The Abbey of I'luscardeen is one of the most
magnificent ruins in Scotland. The remains of
this once noble building, arc six miles westward of
Elgin, in one of the loveliest valleys in the land.—
It was built in the early part of the thirteenth con,
tury. Its situation is remarkable. Mies at the foot
of one of the largest ranges of mountains in that
part of Scotland. It is completely sheltered from
the north winds; the mountains at whose base it is
situated being many hundred feet in height. About
a mile and a half in an opposite direction, is another
range of high hills but so gradual in their slope, and
so fertile in soil, as to be capable of profitable culti
vation. Around the Abbey itself are numbers of
large trees, many if not all of them boasting an an
tiquity of several centuries. Ono pear tree, in the
spot where the garden of the Abbey stood, is ascot,.
tamed to have been planted by ono of the earliest
monks who lived in the abbey, and consequently,
has reached the almost incredible age of six hundred
years. In a southern and western direction, there
are small forests, some of them man's plantation,
and others of nature's growth, which greatly add
to the beauty of the scene. Connected with the
place there are many interesting legends: and it is
for the purpose of briefly relating one of these, in
which there is much of the air of romance, that we
have been led to refer to the venerable building, it is
as follows :
Edmund and Anna, the one the eldest son, and
tho other the eldest daughter of two of the most in
fluential men in the north of Scotland, were among
the most devoted lovers the world ever witnessed.
Anna possessed every quality, mental and personal,
calculated to win the affections of our sox. But
independently of her personal lbeinations, there
were adventitious circumstances, which must of
themselves, have produced in the breast of Edmund
a peculiar attachment to her. Five suitors had im
portunately solicited her hand in marriage during
the tirnr lir pnyinr; hi'• rtadre,,. In her;
A. S ZLI" •°Ca,Etr? za.ciza
among these was Melvyn, a neighboring nobleman,
high hi the esteem of his sovereign Alexander the
Second of Scotland. But Edmund though inferior
in station to Melvyn and each of his other rivals,
was unhesitatingly, preferred to them all. No less
fervent was the affection with which he regarded
Anna. His entire existence was bound up in here,
and the world itself, when weighed in the balance
with her, were indeed found wanting.
The nuptial morn of the,youthful lovers was ono
of the most delightful which ever burst on the world.
It was in the month of May. The ground was
beautifully carpeted with new born grass. The
garden, the orchard, the hedge, the plantation, the
forest—all smiled in their new attire. Tho sun
poured forth his beams with more titan wonted pro
fusion, tinging all creation with an exquisite radi
i once ; while innumerable choristers of every species
of the feathered tribe, imparted by the melody of
their warblings, additional charms to that bright
morn. Nature herself, in fine, seemed on this oc
casion, to be jubilant at the 'approaching nuptials of
a pair who were pre-eminently worthy of each
others warmest and most sincere affections.
The vassals of Emerson, Anna's father, exulted
without measure at the circumstance of the chief
tain's only daughter being about to be united to the
youth of her choice; and as ail were that evening
to participate in the ample festivities of the baronial
hall, they attired themselves in the beat costume of
their clan, and prepared to celebrate the joyous event
with all becoming respect for their chieftain, and the
young bride and bridegroom.
'rho afternoon arrived, and at the hour of five, the
beautiful bride approached the hymenial altar, ac
companied by her brides-maids and the wives and
daughters of the more respectable of her father's
vassals. Edmund was present ut the appointed hour
luxuriating in waking decants of the matchless bliss
which was about to bo secured to him. The vener
able Abbot of Pluscardeen a man who was verging
on seventy years of age, and whoae countenance el
oquently discoursed of hie unaffected piety, stationed
himself beside the interesting couple, and before
proceeding to go through the matrimonial ceremo
ny, ho uttered with a mingled air of mildness and
solemnity, the usual behest—" join hands." The
lovers extendedtheir respective hands' to each other.
Anna's was white as the.unsunned snow, while her
beautiful countenance was suffused with a deep
blurb, iwllLativ. of mo•looty —a blush whisk if pos
sible imparted now fascinations to her unrivalled
face. 'rho reverend abbot now commenced the
marriage ritual. With uplifted hands, and a coun
tenance beaming with benignity, he was addressing
his orisions to the Supreme Being, imploring his
special benediction on the youthful pair, now kneel
ing at the altar, when an arrow from some invisible
bow infixed itself in his heart. That instant he
dropped on the floor at the feet of those who sur
rounded him. All present were lrorror•struck at
the strange circumstance, and gazed on each other
in mute amazement—simultaneously listening at
the same time, as if by instinct, in the hope that
they should hear such sounds in some part of the
building, as would lead them to the discovery of the
assassin ; but the lint thing that broke the death
like silence that prevailed, was the expiring groan '
of the aged abbot. The bride fainted at the appall
ing sight; and while the bridegroom waz in the act
of raising her up, Melvyn attended by shoot of his
myrmidon's, suddenly appeared at the portals of the
place, their !laming eyes speaking the deeds of blood
on which they were intent. o See to the protection
of Anna!" cried Edmund and lie clenched his dag
ger in Isis hand. He burned to revenge himself on
Isis deadly foe ; but be could not so far muster his
feelings of affection for his bride, as to quit her to
engage in conflict with Melvyn. Apprised of the
presence of the unhallowed intruders, the clansmen
of Emerson rushed to the aid of their chieftain,
his daughter, and her bridegroom. The hall was
now crowded with focuses, ranged under two great
divisions; each vessel willing and prepared to shod
the last drop of his blood in the quarrel of Isis re
spective chieftain. The conflict commenced with the
utmost vigor on either side! The clashing of the
instruments of death might bo heard far and wide,
till at length overpowered by superior numbers, the
clansmen of Emerson were almost all strewed on
the door, either already in the embraces of death, or
momentarily expecting to be so, from the number
and severity of their wounds. Edmund and Em
erson defended Anna with more than mortal bra
very; Melvyn and his leading vassals at last sur
rounded them, wrenched their daggers from them,
and consequently rendered her further protection
beyond the compare of human courage and power.
" Spare the two miscreants," referring to Em
errors and Edmund; spare the two miscreants,
that mortification may be their portion," cried Mel
vyn addressing himself to his surviving clans
men, as ho slued the affrighted Anna in his
arms and rushed with her to tire door. A steed
was there in waiting, which he mounted, and pla
cing her before him, he galloped off with his prize
to his own castle only seven miles distant, followed
by his vassals. " Thou art now in safe custody
young lady," said he to Anna, as one of the servants
shut the ponderous iron gata which fronted
the walled castle.
On reaching his mansion, Melvyn led Anna into
the moat splendid apartment in it; and having
placed before her the most delicious refreshments
the house could afford, he pressed her to partake of
them. She refused. " Is not thy foolish obsti
nacy yet overcome, lady'l" said he to Anna, in a half
I sneering tone. " Whether think you," continued the
haughty ehieflan, "are a dungeon and chains, or
being made the lady of Melvyn castle, more to be
Anna was silent, she uttered not a word,
"Nay, young maid, halt thou not the use of that
members° characteristic of the sex'!" said Melvyn
Anna, who had but partially recovered from her
swoon, when wrested from the arms of Edmund,
who had taken it for granted that both ho and her
father had been victims to Melvyn's fury, implored
the chieftain, in accents which were repeatedly in
terrupted the irrepressible grief which swelled her
gentle ho. om, and whirls vented itself in an ocean
of tears, t;) terminate her life that instant an an act
of tender mercy.
" A few hours of a solitary dungeon will, perhaps,
bring thro to thy senses, and cure thee of thy regards
for Edmund, if not, I shall then wed thee per force,"
said Melvyn, and so saying he dragged the agoni
sed Anna to a gloomy cell, in which he was wont to
incarcerate the persona of such of his vassals as had
incurred his displeasure.
The enraged chieftain then despatched a special
messenger for a priest to unite him and Anna in
marriage; but the priest being some distance from
home, several hours elapsed before his services could
Emerson and Edmund, who, though worsted in
the conflict between them and Melvyn's party, had
been permitted to enjoy their liberty unmolested
after the letter had decamped with Anna; began to
muse on the calamity which had befallen them; and
to think whether or not it was within the range of
possibility to do any thing for the recovery of the
person if the bride.
Edmund was intimately acquainted with Mel-
vyn's castle and its vicinity, and knew that, after
sunset, there was one part of its walls defended on
ly by one person, which he thought might, perhaps,
be practicable to scale; and if they could succeed
in this, and slay the sentinel, they might, undisco
vered, enter the castle itself, and yet rescue Anna
from the grasp of the haughty chieftain.
The project wore a sufficiently desperate aspect;
but Edmund, ay, and Emerson too, though com
paratively advancod in years, were both in that
reckless state of mind which fitted them to under
a ry enterprise within the confines of practica
Gail 4, to their assistance, and acquainting great
with their project, the most spirited of those of Ern
croon's assals who had survived the recent conflict,
the bridegroom and the bride's father, accordingly
armed themselves at every point, and hastened to
the neighborhood of Melvyn's walled castle.
The sun had buried himself below the western
horizon two hours before they left Emerson's hall
on their adventurous purpose. The night was ex
ceedingly dark ; hours had to elapse before the moon
would show her visago; and not one of the count
less lesser luminaries, which at other times bostud
and sparkle in the firmament, was visible to the eye.
All were enshrouded from mortal gaze by one ap
parently vast cloud. Emerson, Edmund, and their
party, amounting in all to twelve arrived at the part
of the wall they were to attempt to scale ; and one of
the tallest and Stoutest of the number placed himself in
a position best adapted for enabling the others to
avail themselves of the assistance of his shoulders in
endeavoring to scale it. Edmund, with his sword
in hand, was the first to make the attempt, and, on
reaching the summit, was astonished to find there
was no sentinel there. Impressed with the idea,
front the various voices ho heard on the outside, and
not being able, from the pitchy darkness of the night,
to correct his error, that there was a vast number of
regularly-organized besiegers, the sentinel instead
of remaining at his post, had returned to the castle
for the purpose of giving the alarm. Ten of the
eleven that remained instantly followed Edmund;
but the other not having any ono to assist him to
scale the wall, was obliged to remain outside. Ed
mund's party were at the castle almost contempora
neously with the sentinel ; and at the most impor
tant part of it before him The brilliant illumination
visible in one of the most spacious apartments, led
them immediately to it. Edmund unceremoniously
burst open the door, rushed in, and MIS followed
by Emerson and the rest of the party.—
There was exhibited to their astonished gaze, the
spectacle of Anna in her bridal robes, pouring forth
the agonies of her heart in rapidly succeeding sobs
and tears, and being supported by ono of Melvyn's
sisters. The lord of the castle grasped her snow
white hand in his. Around were a numerous party,
and the priest who had arrived a few minutes be
fore, had just pronounced the first sentence. of the
matrimonial service. Villian l" exclaimed Ed
mund, with his eyes directed to Melvyn, and flash
ing with indignation. And as he uttered the epi
thet, he rushed towards the hated foe, and, ere the
latter had time to use a weapon in his own defence,
Edmund sheathed his sword in his bosom. Melvyn
fell prostrate on the floor; but such was tho deadly
animosity ho bore towards Edmund that, though he
only survived two minutes thereafter, he partially
rose up, seized his dagger, and aimed it at the
breast of Anna—exclaiming at the same time, un
der the impression that the thrust w•as successful,
"Nor shalt thou, scoundrel, enjoy her either ;" but
Edmund had already seized her in his arms, and the
thrust which was made at her, proved mortal to
Melvin's own brother, who, in the confusion of the
moment occupied the place on which Anna stood
but an instant before.
Entering the Castle of Melvyn thus unexpectedly,
an.] finding its inmates anticipatins scenes of festiv.
ity rather than a mortal conflict, Edmund and his
party found no difficulty—not even resistance—in
carrying off Anna in triumph. The massy iron
gate was speedily demolished and in three hours
afterwards t. cy reached home. On the following
day they proceeded to the hymeneal altar, where
the nuptial knot was tied. The bride and bride
groom returned to the house of the latter, and spent
the remainder of their days in peace and happiness.
SAVINGS OP A PRINTER.
The man who stops a newspaper when he is go•
ing to get married, pays a poor compliment to his
intended, and probably expects to have no children
to learn to read.
The man who patronizes a foreign paper in pre
ference to one of his own county, should be made
to pay double for advertisements, necessary to be
published in the county, and not be allowed the pri
vilege of inserting either obituary or marriage no
'ices, without paying for them as advertisements;--
besides he should beexcluded from all posts of trust,
profit, or honor.
The man who takes a paper from year to year
without paying any thing on his subscription, ought
to come to a crust of bread, and be obliged to pick
his teeth with a hob-nail, that he may know how
good it feels for a printer to make himself poor by
paying out every dollar he can raise, fur paper, ink,
and labor, for the benefit and gratification of some
five or six hundred gentlemen, who pay him in
"patronage;" to wit: such patronage as taking a
paper year after year, without ever paying a far
thing for it.
The man who attempts to run for an office with- 1
out taking a county paper, should be struck with
spring -halt, ring-bone, and spasin, all at once, if
there be no other way to beat him !
\ The man who orders a paper discontinued with
out paying up, is an unrelieved scamp, and ought to
bo set afloat in the Lackawasen on an impeded
saw-log, and landed on the Jersey side of the Dela
The man who takes a paper and pays for it in
advance, or which is well enough, within the year,
is a gentleman and a good citizen in every sense of
those terms, and deserves well of his country.—
Wayne County Herald.
from the Lowell Offering.
The White Tress---er Wine Arisa
tocra , :y.
<, In every county village where,
Ten chimneys' smoke perfumes the air,
Contiguous to a steeple:
Great gentlefolks are found a score,
Who can associate no more,
With common country people."
In the good village of Clairbury there were about
a dozen families, who constituted the elite of the
place—the aristocracy in the English and Ameri
eon acceptation of the terms of using the word, in
the Greek signification of the words from %%Lich it
is compounded. First, in the course of time, an
accident there wan in the family of the Governor of
the State. In his family the aristocratic claim re
mained entirely with his Executive dignity; as for
himself he woo a farmer—could hoe corn with the
best, or " crack a joke" with the jovial. Second,
there was his brother, the richest and best man is
town. Tho Governor's brother, whom, for the sake
of a name, we shall call Col. Trott, loved a joke as
well as the Governor himself; and this characteristic
seemed a hereditary trait in the Aridly, and descen
ded undiminished in activity to his only son.
These families were the aristocracy, for they were
the beet; and the remainder of the class were good,
but no better than their neighbors. Undoubtedly
they were a little richer than tire common people,
for they expended more. There was the minister,
the doctor, two lawyers and three or four farmers
included in the clique.
Included, with, arid of, these families, there were
about halfa dozen young ladier,who were the fashion.
Their noses probably were "counted" by one of the
country merchants in one of his spring purchases, as
he brought home just six white dress patterns of a
"new style," and most fashionable article.
The next day, after the " new goods were open
ed," they exhibited to the three Misses Crawsons,
three very pretty and amiable girls, only a little
foolish for an American fanner's daughters, about
fashion, style, and exclusiveism. (1 did not find
that word in Webster but manufactured it for the
occasion.) The new patterns were examined, ad
mired and secured. One left her slater to conclude the
purchase, while she went to call in two more, to se
cure the "only thing of tho kind." Tho ladies
came, admired, and purchased. Only one more
pattern remained, and one more lady to be supplied.
Her parents resided near a mile and a half from the
village, and it was not convenient to call upon her
that afternoon. But she must have the dress, and
then " the quality" would be supplied.
"Don't sell the other pattern to any common
girl," said the eldest Miss Crimson to the clerk,
who chanced to be the son of Col. Trott. "To
morrow we will go down after Mary Gleason, to
come and buy it." And the ladies retired delight
ed with their purchases.
"Any common girl I" ejaculated Benjamin,
I will not sell it to any common girl!" And it was
placed aside as sold.
A few moments after, the merchant came in, and
the independent clerk signified hie wish that Col.
Hadlock would look to the atom himself, and
His Llsst call wa, upon tho cn!y fuhionablc clrecr
'aiict)u.(E) :1:3(1.)Q .Z•tr',..7)t.V..5
maker in the village. The purport of his visit'
probably, will bo conjectured by his subsequent
movements. He returned to the store, and taking
• the only remaining pattern of the white dresses, he
was soon seen entering the house of " Aunt Ruth,"
the only negro habitation within some miles. And
Aunt Ruth and three neat, tidy daughters constitu
ted the family. Aunt Ruth was on orderly, active
and neat negro—a widow, and the nurse of all
the babies "round about." Her three daughters
were the best half in the country; and the second
one, a namesake of her own, was a beauty of color.
Ruth Mingo was the most genteel and elegantly
formed female in the county, of any color; anti
withal a good and virtuous girl.
The next day Miss Gleason called in company
with Miss Crowson, but Mr. Trott was absent, and
the dress was not to be found. Every m,k, shelf,
corner and drawer was examined, but to no purpow,
and Mr. Trott had gone to Greenville. The we. k
passed, and the ladies conld not tied Mr. Trutt, met
Col. Hadlock could not find the pattern.
Sunday arrived—the five dressel had been made,
and the professors of the fashioliable atticle could
not be disappointed in their display before the non ,
professor; and five prettier girls, and mom fashion
able white dresses did not radar the church that.
morning than the three Misses Crowson, Esq. Ai
len's sister, and Julia Trott, and their new white
dresses. In good season, but later than usual, and
after most of the congregation were seated, "Aunt
Ruth" and her three daughters entered the church,
but, contrary to their usual custom, Ruth did not
enter the side door with her mother and sisters, bat
passed up the broad aisle, and crossed over by the
pulpit to the corner pew.
The indignation of those interested, and the
amusements of the less fashionable part of the con
gregation may be imagined, as Ruth Mingo paraded
with a demure step to her seat, dressed in a white
gown, of the exact pattern, quality and fashion of
the five fashionable young ladies who had passed up
the aisle a few minutes before.
Mr. Trott defended himself from intenti,ral
maliciousness, by alleging that, in the first place, he
did not promise not to give the pattern away, se
courtly that white girls were COthlnOn girls in
Clairbury, and Mach girls were uncommon.
A rievolutionary Yact
We tied the following capital story going the
rounds of our exchange papers. It is altogether
too good to be lost:
The Fourth of July, 1835, was celebrated in the
usual manner, with civil and military rejoicings, in
one of the most considerable towns in eastern Penn
sylvania. In the evening of the day a public festi
val was hold within a beautiful grove at the suborns
of the town. The committee of arrangements, by
request of the orator appointed for the occasion, Mr.
—, collected all the revolutionary veterans they
could find within the compass of several miles, and
arranged them with line effect on either side of the
chair of the President. Every thing went off most
charmingly—the dinner was excellent—Qtr wine
was delicious—tho music was soul-cheering—and
the toasts patriotic. After the Declaration of Inde
pendence was read, Mr. -- rose and addressed
the meeting in a strain of eloquence which called
forth heartfelt turd rapturous bursts of applause.—
He dwelt pathetically on the hardships and priva
tions of that little hand of heroes who fought beside
our beloved Washington through that memorable
struggle which ended in the glorious achievement of
our liberties. In the midst of his discourse, he tur
ned round tothe old veterans whose moistened oyes
showed how the chord that awoke in their recollec
tions was touched, he suddenly questioned a silver
headed septuagenarian :
" What battle have you fought in, lily old friend
—won't you tell us 1"
I crossed the Delaware with Washington—
fought at Yorktown, and saw the surrender of
" And you 1" continued the orator.
"I was at Saratoga, and I tell you it done out
hearts good to see the red coats march by us with
furled banners reversed ants—fine looking fellows
they were too."
"I was with General Greene through all his sou ,
them campaign, and I fought with him in m.cry
" And you, where were your lacreld won t
" On the sea." answered the weather beaten tar.
waa with Barry when he taught the proud
tonsthat we were as invincible on the ocean as on
The cheering was tremendous.
The orator went on. " And you, tell no, where
your honored garlands were earned t" speak, old
father, upon what field of blood did you behold
victory perched upon our dog."
tt Vy, Joe, I vash at Trenton."
" Under Washington, guikuit i , aldier, wider
"Oh yo, 1 va,h oonder Vasinnston aho vcn
"Surrendered ! what do you maul my old hero?
1 7 y, ytt, rtyultec,! to be RIO, VC ijoc,,,dored
oonder Shemleral Vmhington, l W. one of de Iles
Imagine, reader, the rtrpriec of the audience. the
momentary euspente, and the deafening roar of
laughter and plaudite that followed.
A good name and a good heart are tw•o of the br'.t
items going. Young MCI shou:d remember this.