BY JAS. CLARK.
[From the New York Tribune.]
EVENING.
BY C. D. STDART•
The day is gone! one golden cloud
Floats softly o'er the evening's birth,
And, like a weary pilgrim's shroud,
The twilight droops around the earth.
How fair the moon from out the skies
Flings down her mill and silv'ry gleams,
And all the stars, like conscious eyes,
Reflect themselves in lakes and streams.
The winds are hushed, the leaves are still,
And not a breath the silence breaks,
Save when some zephyr's gentle thrill,
The dew-drop from the rose-tree shakes.
Yet hear I, far across the vale,
A nil from the shadows of yon hill,
The Kittydid pour lorth her tale,
And sadly sing the whippoorwill.
Oh, holy, calm! delightful hour!
Who feels not tenderer for your sake 7
As—by an angel's quick'ning power—
Moon, stars, and music, blending wake
Delightful hour I nor night, nor day,
But just that glorious space between
Which mingles both—then melts away,
Like dreams which are not, yet have been
How fitly life is typed therein,
Where darkness gathers round our way,
While far beyond the light is seen
Which centres in a perfect day.
(From the New York Sunday Times.)
THRILLINC NARRATIVE.
A STORM LL 'FIFE MOUNTAINS.
In the fall of 1846, 1 was travelling
eastward in a stage-coach from Pittborg
over the mountains. My fellow pas
sengers were two gentleman and a lady.
The elder gentleman's appearance in
terested me exceedingly. In years he
seemed about thirty; in air and man
ner he was calm, dignified and polishes' ;
and the contour of his features was sin
gularly intellectual. He conversed free
ly on general topics, until the road be
came more ebrubt and precipitous ; but
on my directing his attention to the
great altitude of a precipice, on the
verge of which our coach wheels were
leisurely rolling, there came a marked
change over his countenance. His eyes
so lately filled with the light of mild in
telligence, beamed wild, restless end
anxious; the month twitched spasmo:!-
ictilly, and the forehead was beaded
with a cold prespiratinn. With a sharp
convulsive shudder, he turned his gaze
from the giddy height, and clutching
my arm tightly with both hands, he
clung to me like a drowning man.
Use this cologne," said the lady,
holding me a bottle, with the instinct
ive goodness of her sex.
I sprinkled a little on his face, and
he soon became somewhat more compo
sed ; but it was not until we had entire
ly traversed the mountain and descend.
ed to the country beneath, that his fine
features relaxed from their peturbid
look, and assumed the placid, quiet dig
nity I had first noticed.
"I owe and apology to the lady,"
said he with a bland smile and gentle
inclination of the head, to our fair com•
panion, " and some explanation to my
fellow travellers also ; and perhaps I
cannot better acquit myself of the doub
le debt than by recounting the cause of
my recent agitation."
"It may pain your feelings," delicate
ly urged the lady.
" On the contrary it will relieve them"
was the respectful reply.
Having signified our several desires
to hear more, the traveller thus proceed
ed:
"At the age of eighteen, I was light
of heart, light of foot, and, I fear, (here
he smiled,) light of head. A fine prop
erty on the right bank of the Ohio ac
knowledged me as sole owner. I was
hastening home to enjoy it , and de
lighted to get free from a college life.
The month was October, the air bra
cing, and the mode of conveyance a
stage coach like this, only more cum
brous. The other passengers were few
—but three in all—an old grey headed
planter of Louisiana, his daughter,
joyous, bewitching creature about sev
enteen, his son about ten years of age.
They were just returning from France,
of which country the young lady dis
coursed in terms so eloquent as to ab
sorb my entire attention.
" The father was taciturn, but the
daughter was vivacious by nature; and
we soon became so mutually pleased
with each other—she was a talker, I
was a listner—that it was not until a
sudden flash of lightning and a heavy
dash of rain against the coach windows
elicited an exclamation from my charm
ing companion, that I knew how night
passed us. Presently there was a low
rumbling sound, and then several tre
mendous peals of thunder, accompanied
by successive flashes of lightning. The
rain descended in torrents, and an an
gry wind began to howl and moat► by
turns through the forest trees.
"I looked from the window of our
vehicle. The night was dark as ebony,
but the lightning revealed the danger
I,,tg
",/ btitt
of our road. We were on the edge of I toy questionings. I was kindly tended
a frightful precipice.—l could see at in- Iby a girl about fifteen, who refused for
tervals, huge jutting rocks far away I several days to hold any discourse with
down its side, and the sight made me me. At length, one morning, finding
solicitous for the safety of my fair com- myself sufficiently recovered to sit up,
panion. I thought of the mere hair- I insisted on learning the result of the
breadths that were between us and eter- I accident.
pity ; a single little rock in the track of " You were discovered," said she,
our coach wheels—a tiny billet of wood sitting on a ledge of rock, amidst the
—a stray root of a tempest torn tree— branches of a shattered tree, clinging
a restive horse, or a civeless driver- 1 to n part of the roof of your broken
any of these might hurl us from our' coach with one hand, and to the insen
sublunary existence with the speed ofsible form of a lady with the other."
I
thought. "And the lady !" I gasped, scanning
"'Tie a perfect tempest," observed I the girls face with an earnestness that
the lady, as I withdrew my head from caused her to draw back and blush.
the window. "How 1 love a sudden "She was saved sir, by the same
storm I there is something so grand means that saved you—the friendly
among the winds when fairly loose tree."
among the hills. I never encounter a "And her father and brother 1" I im
night like this, but Byron's magnificent patiently demanded.
description of a thunder storm in the I " Were both crushed to pieces at the
Jura recurs to my mind. But are we I bottom of the precipice, a great way be
on the mountains yet V' low the place where my father and uncle
"Yes we have begun the assent." Joe got you and the lady. We buried
" It is not said to he dangerous V' their bodies in one grave, close by the
"By no means," I replied, in as easy clover patch down in our meadow
a tone as I could assume. ground.
" I only wish it was daylight, that we Poor Louise ! poor orphan ! God
might enjoy the mouniain scenery. But pity you !" I muttered, in broken tones,
Jesu Marie! but what's that ?" and she, utterly unconscious that 1 had a listner.
covered her eyes from the glare of a "God pity her, indeed sir," said the
sheet of lightning that illuminated the young girl, with a gush of heartfelt sym
rugged mountain with brilliant intensi- pithy. " Would you like to see her 1"
tv. Peal after peal of crashing thunder she added.
instantly succeeded ; there was a very I " Take me to her," I replied.
volume of rain coming down at each I " I found the orphan bathed in tears,
thunder burst ; and with the doep moon- by the grave of her buried kindred.
ing of an animal in dreadful agony, '
She received me with sorrowful sweet
breaking upon my ears, I found that the ness of manner. I will not detain your
coach had come to a dead halt. attention by detailing the efforts I made
" Louise. my beautiful fellow-travel- to win her from her grief ; but briefly
ler, became pale as ashes. She fixed acquaint you, that 1 at last succeeded
her searching eyes on mine with a look in inducing her to leave her forlorn home
of anxious dread; and turning to her in the sunny south ; and that twelve
father hurriedly remarked- months after the dreadful occurrence
" We are on the mountains !" which I have related, we stood at the
I reckon so," was the unconcerned I altar together as man and wife. She
reply_ I still lives to bless my love with her
. _
. .
tt With instant activity I pat my head!, smiles, and my children with her good
through the window and called to the : precepts; but on the anniversary of
driver, but the only answer was the ' that terrible night, she secludes herself
heavy moaning of a.l agonized animal in her room, and devotes the hour of
borne past me by the swift wings of darkness in solitary prayer. As for
the tempest. I seized the handle of the me," added the traveller, while a faint
door and strained at it in vain ; it would flush tinged his noble brow at the avow
not yield a jot. At that instant I felt a al, "as for me, that accident has redu
cold hand on mine, and heard Louise's I ced me to the condition of a physical
voice faintly articulating in my ear the coward at the sight of a mountain pre
appallingl words— cipice."
. . . _
'flee coachis being moved backwards!" ."
But the driver," urged our lady
" God in heaven ! Never shall 1 for- passenger, who had attended to the re
get the fierce agony with which I `tug- I can' of the whole story with much at
ged at that conch door and culled on the tension—" what became of the driver 1
driver in tones that rivaled the force of or did you ever learn the reason of his
the blast, whilst the dreadful conviction deserting his post?"
was burning in my brain that the coach "His body was found on the road,
was being moved slowly backwards! within a few steps of the spot where
What followed was of such swift the coach went over. He had been
occurrence that it seems to me like a struck dead by the same flash of light
frightful dream. I iliac , - that blinded the restive horse."
I rushed against the door with all The traveller here fell into a musing
niy force, but it mocked my utmost ef- attitude, as if ail further allusion to the
forts. One side of our vehicle was sen- subject would be unpleasant to him.
sibly going down, down, down. The I Shortly after this, we reached the rail.
moaning of agonized animal became road station, were I parted from the ner
deeper and deeper, and I knew from vous gentleman with feelings of pro
the desperate plunges against his traces found esteem.
that it was one of our horses. Crash I Awfully Sudden Death.
upon crash of boarsr thunder rolled over
the mountain, and vivid sheets of light
ning played around our devoted car
riage sif in glee at our misery. By
its light I could see for a moment—only
fora moment—the old planter, standing
erect, with his hands nn his son and
daughter, his eyes raised to heaven,
and his lips moving like those of one in
prayer.—l could see Louise turn her
ashy dheeks and superb eyes towards
me ns if imploring protection, and I
could see the bold glance of the young
boy flashing indignant defiance at the
descending carriage, the war of ele
ments, and the awful danger that await
ed him. There was a roll—a desperate
plunge, as if an animal in the last throes
of dissolution—a harsh, grating jar—a
sharp piereing scream of mortal terror,
and I had hut time to clasp Louise firm
ly with one hand around the waist, and
seize the leather fastenings attached to
the coach roof with the outer, when we
were precipitated over the precipice.
" I can distinctly recollect preserving
consciousness for a few seconds of
time, how rapidly my brenth was being
exhausted ; but of that tremendous de-
scent 1 soon lost all further individual
knowledge by a concussion so violent
that I was instantly deprived of sense
and motion."
The traveller paused. His features
worked for a minute or two as he did
when we are on the mountain ; he press
his hand across his forehead as if in
pain, and then resumed his interesting!
story :
" On a low couch, in an humble room
of a small country house, next opened
my eyes in this world of light and shade
and joy and sorrow,
of mirth and mad
ness. Gentle hands soothed my pillow,
gentle feet glided across my chamber,
and a gentle voice hushed for a time all
HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, APRIL 17, 1849.
A death under circumstances singu
larly impressive, and calculated to arrest
the attention of the thoughtless, the
moralist, and divine, is reported to have
lately occurred at the house of Mr.
Sparkes, in Nottingham, England. A
few friends were spending that evening
over what is termed "a friendly game
of cards," among whom was the decea
sed, Mr. A bin. Moss. During the sit
ting, a stranger-friend, front Birming
ham, arrived, who, on observing Moss,
said, " Ay, Moss, are you alive 1 1
thought you was dead," and was an
swered, "Yes, 1 am alive, but 1 should'nt
' mind dying only the people would say,
Poor Moss is dead !" Ihe play procee
ded for a short time, with much cheer
fulness and humor; when Moss exclaim
, ed, holding up the queen of hearts—
" This is my last trick"—laid down his
I card—his head—and died ! The con
sternation of the party may be imagin
ed. A surgeon was instantly called in,
who opened an artery, a few drops of
blood effused, but the vital spark had
fled. The following day an inquest was
held at the Balloon, and the verdict
" Died by the visitation of God" return
ed. The deceased was 55 years of age,
a Jew, a native of Poland, and has been
a resident of Nottingham for die last
five years, trading in small ware and
jewelry: he was highly esteemed for
his humor and general good character.
Q The National Temperance Convention
recently assembled in Washington, Resolved,
That we have, with great pleasure, heard it
stated that his Excellency, Zachary Taylor,
since his arrival in Washington, has repeatedly
declined to partake of intoxicating beverages;
and that we hope to see him ere long in the
Temperance ranks, with a tetotal exclusion,
from the White House of everything that can
intoxicate.
Singular Adventure with a Wild
Cat in Florida.
Several years ago I went on a turkey
hunt in the wilderness of Florida.—
Having started a flock of the birds, I
picked out a glossy and garrulous old
gobbler who sat perched in a convenient
position. I slowly raised my rifle to
my lace, and gently leaned forward,
when, to my amazement, I saw him in
rapid retreat, already several hundred
yards distant. Somebody (not myself)
had alarmed him, and as my ideas were
pretty fairly divided between Indians
and tnrkios, I concluded the turkey had
been frightened by an Indian, and that
said Indian must be in my immediate
neighborhood. I cast my eyes towards
the hammock on my right, and saw an
indistinct form, crawling upon the
ground, towards "dry pond.' That this .
was an Indian, I entertained not the ,
slightest doubt. Was he after the tur
key, or after me 7 On that point my
mind was not so clear. At all events he
did not see me, and there l had a deci
ded advantage of him, and determined
to take the first shot, and leave him all I
the remaining chances of the game.—
Like Wellington at Waterloo, I had my
enemy before me, but unlike him, 1 had
secured my retreat, and determined to
take a lively advantage of it, as soon as I
necessity dictated such a course—l was
not long in suspense—for soon after,
the mysterious object of my anxiety
emerged from the Palmettoes into the
open ground, and instead of an Indian
proved to be an enormous Wild Cat.-1
It was evidently watching my turkey,
and endeavoring to intercept it in the
Palmettoes, but was discovered and
baulked in its design. The animal ran
' rapidly about half way across the "dry
! pond" and stopped, arid placed his fore
feet upon a small pine log—l gave him
l a quick Shot, at about 100 yards, and he
fled to the hammock below—l reloaded
and followed him to the edge of the
hammock, but finding no blood, I re
turned to camp, got two dogs and sev
eral men and returned. I felt confident
that lie was wounded, and supposed he
would handle the dogs rudely—but I
found him . dead within fifty yards of the
spot where I. had left his track. The
ball had penetrated his heart. He was
carried home in triumph—his skin stuff
ed and hung in a conspicuous place,
and it was pronounced by the crackers,
the largest cat that they had met with
in Florida. It is true, I had no turkey
for dinner that day—but 1 had a glori
ous appetite for my bean soup.
A Magnanimous Murderer.
The following is an extract from one
of the four speeches Made by Mr. Foote,
of Mississippi, in the Senate of the Uni
ted States, during the session of the
Ist ultimo:
It has been barely fifteen years since
I was called upon to defend a gifted na
tive of New England against a charge
of which he confessed him, , elf guilty ;
that charge was murder. My client—
for such he became—had been guilty
according to his own account, as given
in autobiography dictated by him, but
which I was accused, at the time, of
writing, of eight murders and sixty
robberies. The testimony against the
prisoner was too conclusive to be re
sisted successfully. He had been con
victed ; the sentence of death was about
to be passed upon him, and be was ask
ed the ordinary question—what he had
to say why this dreadful judgement
should not be pronounced against him.
He arose gracefally from his seat on
the prisoner's bench; he stood erect be
fore the court and audience. His coun
tenance was free from the marks of tre
pidation, of embarrassment, or of con-,
scions guilt. His mind seemed for a
moment solemnly to revert to the strange
scenes of romantic and bloody adven
ture through which lie had passed. He
turned those fierce eyes of his upon the
judge who was presently to consign him
to the scaffold, and exclaimed in tones
that I never can forget. " Sir, you have
asked me a question, and I intend to an
swer it. You behold before you a man,
cut off from the sympathies of his fel
low beings, who is yet .not unworthy
of their esteem and commiseration ;
who has not slept in a human habita
tion for full nine years, who has rosin
ed along the banks of the magestic
Mississippi and lived alone upon the
meat, uncooked, of the wild tenants of
the wilderness that he has been able to
make his victims; who, not forgetful of
classic lore, has perused with delight,
amidst the gloom of the unfrequented
forest, the pages of Horace, of Tacitus,
and Juvenal, who felt for the degraded
condition of his race, and sighed to par
ticipate in some work of general melio
ration.
I have slain men with impunity and
without remorse, who were, in my judg-
ment, burdensome to the generation
with which they stood connected, and
(
6
iO'fl'rflaL
-mop
whose death I supposed would prove a
blessing to society. lam now charged
with murder, and convicted opon evi
dence which I admit to be strong, and
even irresistable, of the slaying of a
human being in cold blood. But how
was it that 1 slew this man, for whose
blood lam now to be responsiblel He
was my enemy without provocation.—
He pursued me with unsparing malig
nity. He subjected me to indignities
which excited me to madness, and I
vowed never to rest satisfied until my
persecutor should cease to live. Look
upon me ; bear witness to the world
hereafter that I stand up at this solemn
hour calmly and composedly before you.
My soul is unconscious of crime. My
heart accuses me not of murder; and
when, a few days hence, I shall ascend
the scaffold to expiate offences of which
I am myself not sensible, by undergoing
a dishonorable death, I shall be found, I
trust, as calm, as self-possessed and un
ruffled as 1 now am." So much for the
self-esteem of one who was known in 1
his day as "the Rob Roy of the Massis- 1
sippi." He was hanged like a dog, not
withstanding his firmness of purpose.
The " Field of Glory."
Allison gives a thrilling description of the
appearance of the ground on which the famous
battle of Eylau was fought, on the morning af
ter the battle
Never was a spectacle so dreadful as
the field of battle presented on the fol.
lowing morning. About fifty thousand
men lay in the space of two leagues,
weltering in blood.—The wounds were
for the most part of the severest kind,
from the extraordinary quantity of cam
non balls discharged during the action,
sad the close proximity of the contend
ing masses to the deadly batteries, which
spread grape at half musket shot through
their ranks. Though stretched on the
cold snow, and exposed to the severity
of an Arctic winter, they were burning
with thirst, and piteous ories were heard
on all sides for water; or ■ssietnnee to
extricate the wounded men (rem be
neath the heaps of slain, or loads of hor
ses by which they were crushed. Six
thousand of thssenoblo aaimalseneurn
bered the field, or, maddened with pain,
were shrieking aloud amidst the stilling
groans of the wounded.—Subdued by
the loss of blood, tamed by the cold, ex
hausted by litinger, the foeman laid side
by side amidst the general wreck. The
Cossack was to be seen beside the Ital
ian; the gay vine dresser, from the
Garonne, lay athwart the stern peasant
of the Ukraine. The extremity of suf
feriug had extinguished alike the fierc
est and most generous passions. After
his usual custom, Napoleon in the af
ternoon, rode through the dreadful field
accompanied by his generals and staff,
while the still burning piles of Serpi
len and Sussgraten sent volumes of
black smoke over the scence of death ;
but the men exhibited none of their
wonted enthusiasm ; no cries of
l'Empereur" were heard; the bloody
surface echoed only with the cries of
suffering, or the groans of wo.
The Last of A Regiment
President Bonaparte, of Prange, has
granted a pension to a widow with five
children, whose case, is an interesting
one. She is the widow of the only man
in the nisileer regiment who was not
Lilted in the retreat from Moscow. Oae
day Capt. Jomontier came to announce
to Napoleon the arrival of Marshal Ney
and his corps. Napoleon ordered him
to rejoin his regiment. An hour or two
afterwards, Napoleon perceived Capt.
Jumontier standing near a soldier whose
singular dress attracted the Emperor's
notice ; his head was covered with a sort
of Cossack bonnet, and instead of his
uniform,
a torn vest,' which scarcely
covered his shoulders. The Captain and
the soldier were marching steadily on.
Napoleon called to him in a note of im-
patience and ill humor.
"Sire, 1 have not lost an instant in
obeying your orders."
What do you.say I You don't un
derstand me I"
Siar, lain with my regiment."
"Your regiment V'
" Yes, sire : the regiment of Fueileere
of the imperial guard."
" But where is it, then 1"
Then a hoarse voice cried—
" Present , my Emperor !" . _
The voice was tilat of the soldier
near Jumontier ; and the widow suc
cored by Louis Napoleon, is the widow
of this soldier.
IT is a terrible thought to remember
that nothing can be forgotten. I have
somewhere road that not an oath was
uttered that does not vibrate through
all time, in the wide spreading current
of sounds—not a prayer lisped that its
record is not also to be found stamped
on the laws of nature, by the indelible
seal of the Almighty's will.
VOL XIV, NO, 14
A Funny Mistake.
Our friends P- and S - one
eveniug met at the house of an acquain
tance, some young ladies, for whom both
gentlemen entertained tender feelings.
In a spirit of frolic one of the young
ladies blew out the lamp, and our two
friends, thinking it a favorable moment
to make known the state of their feel
ing to the fair object of their regard,
moved seats at the same inatant, and
platted themselves as they supposed by
the lady:s aide; but she had also moved
and the gentleman were in reality seat.
ed next to each other. AS our friends
could not whisper without ; betraying
their where abouts, they both gently
took, as they thought, the soft little
hand of the charmer, and when after a
while they ventured to give a tondo:*
pressure, each was enraptured to find it
returned with an unmistakable squeeze.
It may well be imagined that the mo
ments fiew rapidly, in their silent inter
change of mutual affection. But the
rest wondering at the unusual ailence of
the L entieniun, one of them noislessly
slipped out and suddenly returned with
a light—there sat our friends P. and S.
most lovingly squeezing each other's
hand—and supreme delight beaming In
their eyes.—Their consternation and the
ecatacy of the ladies may be imagined,
but not described. Both gentlemen slo
ped, end P. was afterward heard to say
that he thought all the while S—'s
hand felt hard.—Gloucester News.
INTERESTING CASES OS SURGERY.—An •
operation of a very tedious kind was
performed a few days since upon the
wrist of a woman by Dr. Van Buren,
one of the visiting physicians of Belle
vue Hospital in this city—the patient
being entirely unconscio s during the
whole operation. We understood that
, this was the first instance of an opera ,
tion of this kind having been perforthed'
in this country—the extraction we be
lieve of the radius bone. It was very
skillfully performed, but en unprofts•
sional observer, although apprized that
the patient was tinder the influence of
chloroform, could divest liimselt of pain
ful sympathy with the apparent sufferer.
At the conclusion of the operation, Dr.-
' Van Buren briefly explained its nature,
and Dr. Mott also made a few remarks.
Dr. Isaac Green, also one of the vis
iting physicians, then performed an op
eration upon the eye of an aged woman,
no chloroform being used, and after
wards amputated the leg of a young
man suffering from the disease of the
knee joint. Chloroform was adminis
tered after the patient was laid upon the
operating table, and for a short time
produced a high state of exeiteinenr.
Soon, however, he became perfectly si
lent and passive, as thotigh in a pro
found sleep, exhibiting no sign of feel
ing even when Green drove the knife
through the limb, both above and below
the bone, and cut through the flesh in a
slanting direction. We observed that
during the administering of the chloro
form, a physician on each side kept his
fingers on the pulse of the patient. Dr.
Green performed his task with consu
mate skill, precision ond coolness. We
understand that not in a single instance
has chloroform proved fatal or injurious
at Bellevue Hospital, although constant
ly in use there.— Wilson 4- Co's Des
patch.
" A MOTHER IN 16RAE1.."--A venera
ble Matron residing with one of her
daughters in the southerly part of our
city, celebrates tltis day .the one hun
dretli anniversary of her birth. She is
the widow of a worthy Justice of the
Peace in Worcestor county, whose sr
cluous duties, both civil and military, in
the " times that tried men's souls," were
promptly and effectively performed.—
She has been the mother of nine child
ren—four sons and five daughters—six
of whom are now living; seventy-two
grand-children, sixty-tiro of whom are
Inow living, one hundred and forty-two
great grand-children, one hundred and
I twenty-five of whom are now living;
and as far as can be asce:aained ten
great-great-grandchildren, all living.
The incompleteness of the statistics of
the latter generation arises from the
fact of the emigration some years ago,
to Wisconsin, of some of the great.
grand-children, of whose families full
particulars are not known. The aged
lady retains to a remarkable degree her
varied facluties—time alone, independ
ent of all disease, almost imperceptibly
debilitating a mind and constitution re
markably vigorous and active.— Boston
Traveller.
A SPLENDID COMPLIMENT.—. 4 When
the streets of Indianapolis were a per
fect glare of ice, a lady pedestrian lost
her bala►,ce and tell. A genuine son of
the green Isle, on asssisting to raise
the lady, exclaimed, 4. Faith, ye ,moat
be a lovely good lady , for don't the
Blessed Book teach us that it is the
ricked that socn4 on slippery places !"