_
ckfc nniitt,obOtt
BY JAS. CLARK.
tee the Journal:
GETHSEMANE ,
Tat deepning shades of night', litihg o'er elf
the plaint's of Judea. The lofty peak of Carmel',
the vine-clad hills, the Palms, and cedars of
Mount Lebanon, were all shrouded in darkness.
O'er the Hofy Land, tier cities, towns, temples,
and palaces; the river Jordan, Tiberias' Sea,
and Olivet, nights sable curtain' had been spread,
and her dark sceptre swayed unomfesfect. 'Twos
the hour of rest. The way-worn traveller, tarn
ed for shelter, and sweet repose, to the hospita
ble inn. The sheperd penned his flocks within
the fold, and in Ills tent sought rest, and sleep,
after the cares Cr the departed day, all things
Were hushed in silence. The feathered' throng,
that warbled merily in the sun beam, were now
hushed, and in the distant grove, silently stretch
ed their parental wing, o'er their infant brood.
But midst this scene of sweet tranquility envy,
malice, and hatred, rested not ; for in the hall
of the lofty Caiphas, were assembled the priests,
scribes, elders, and rulers, dehatieg how they
might best crucify the meek and lowly Jesus.
And thus while they, with envy and malice
rankling in their breasts, were devising foul
means, to bring down the thunderbolts of ruin,
upon the head of the Lord hair Saviour, He,
isolated and alone, in the Garden of Gethsemane,
with no sound to disturb the stillness of the
ni,e,lit, but the low murmering of the brook
Cedron, as it gurgled o'er its pebly bed ; with
no shelter save heaven's dark blue canopy,
kneeling upon the cold ground, prayed, and in
his agony the sweat and blood trickled from the
overcharges! veins upon his temples—and there,
behold him as his groans pierce the midnight
silence ; he cries Father if it be possible,
may this cup pads from me, nevertheless not my
will but thine be done." These groans and
prayers, the heavens with pity moved, and God
the Father, commissioned, from his courts,
Angela to go and minister strength and suppoit
to his auflering Son.
But now, a light pierces the midnight dark
ness ; the harried tread, the clangor of arms,
the gleaming of weapons in the torch light, all
give notice of the approach of an armed throng.
On, an, they come amid the "clang of helmit, ,
error!, and shit ld," and formest of them all, Oh !
tease, Oh 1 black ingratitude, he who for money
betrayed his friend comes, drawing near, with
feigned reverence and fear, cried Hail ! Master,
and rinds a kiss betrayed his Loan AND SAVIOUR,
while at the deed, both Hall and Earth recoiled,
aghast.
Huntingdon March tith, 1856.
Sentence ofDr. Webster for the Mur
der of Dr. Geod Parkman,
Bos.rorf, April 1, 1850.
tit. Webster wan brought into Court this
merntng at S minutes to 0 o'clock to receive
the solemn sentence of the law. He looked
gloomy in the extreme, but collected aml cretin.
The Court room was densely crowded, as
were the avenges fending to it. At 10 minutes
past 10 o'clock the Court came in, including
the Hon. Richard Fletcher, who had not attend
ed the trial.
After some minutes of silence, Mr. Attorney
General Clifford, narrated the facts of the indict
ment, trial and verdict, and moved the Court
that the final sentence be now pronounced.
The prisoner rose, and was asked by the Clerk
what he bad to show why sentence of death
should not be pronounced against him.
The prisoner bowed and took his scat in
silence:
Chief instice Shaw then addressed him in the
following words
Jona W. Wails-m
-1n meeting you here for
the last time,
_to pronounce that sentence which
the law has affixed to the high and aggravated
offence of which you stand convicted, it is im
possible by language to give utterance to the
deep conscioussness of responsibility, to the
keen sense of sadness end sympathy with Which
We approach this solemn duty. Circumstances
which all who are here may duly appreciate,
but which it may seem hardly fit to allude to in
more detail, render the performance of this duty
on the present Occasion. Unspeakably painful.
At all tissues and under all circumstances, a
feeling of indescribable solemnity attaches to
the utterance of that stern voice retributive,
which consigns a fetlow-being to at Untimely
and ignominious death; but when we consider
all the circumstances of your past life—your
various relations in society—the claims upon
you by others- - the hopes and expectations you
hare cherished, with your present condition and
the ignominious death which awaits you, we
are oppressed with grief and anguish. Nothing
but a sense of imperative duty, imposed on us
by the law, whose officers and ministers we are,
could sustain us in pronouncing such a judg
ment.
Against the crime of wilful murder, of which
you stand convicted—a crime at which humani
shoi:m ddseorsr society -a ga
crime
rerde
everywhere,
withabhorrence—
ftl under ar f
the taw has denounced its severest pennities in
these few, simple, but solemn and imptesslve
words ;
.i , Every person who shall commit. the crime
.of murder, shall suffer the punishment of death
for the same."
The manifest object of this law is the protec
tion and security of human life, the most im
portant of a just and paternal government. It is
made the duty of,this,Court to declare this penal
ty against any one who shall hove been found
guilty, in due course pf the Administration of
justice, of having violated this law. It is one
of the most solemn arts of judicial power which
an earthly tribunal can be called upon to exer
cise. It is a high and exemplary manifestation
of the sovereign authority of the law, as well
in its stern and inflexible severity, as in its pro
tecting and paternal benignity. It punishes the
guilt) , with severity, in order that the right to,
the enjoyment of life—the most precious of all
rights, may be more effectually secured.
By the record before us, it appears that Yoh
have been indicted by the Grand Jury of this
county for the crime of murder; alleging that
do the 23d of November last, you made ah as ,
saLlt on the person of Dr. George Perkman; and
by acts of violence, you deprived him of life,
With Malice aforethought. This is alleged to
have been done within the apartments of a pub
lic institution, in this city, the Medical College,
of which you were a Prefessor and instructor,
upon the person of a man of mature age, well
knOwn and of extensive connections in this
community, and a benefactor of that institution.
The charge of an offence so aggravated, in the
midst of a peaceful community, created an in
stantaneous outburst of surprise, alarm and
terror, and was followed by universal and in
tense aAxiety to learn, by the results of a judicial
proeetiling; Whether this charge was true. The
day of trial came. A court was organized to
conduct it. A jury, almost of your own choos
ing, was selected in the manner best calculated
to insure intelligence and impartiality. Counsel
were appointed to assist you in conducting your
defence, who have done all that learning, elo
quence, and skill could accomplish in presenting
your defence in its hest aspects. A very large
number of witnesses were carefully examined,
and, after a laborious trial of unprecedented
length, conducted, as we hope, with patience
and fidelity, that jury have pronounced you
guilty.
To this verdict, upon a careful revision of
the whale proceedings, I am constrained to say,
in behalf of the Court, that they can perceive no
just or legal grounds of exception. Guilty ! How
much, under all these thrilling circiumstances,
which cluster around the case and throng our
memories in the retrospect; does this single
word import ! The wilful, violent and malicious
destruction of the life of a fella w-man, in the
peace of God and under the protection of the
law—yes, of one in the midst of life, with brighr
hopes, warm affections, mutual attachments,
strong extensive and numerous—making life a
blessing to himself and others.
We allude thus to the injury you have inflict
ed, not for the purpose of awakening one unneces
sary pang in a heart already lacerated, but to
remind you of the irreparable wrong done to
the victim of your cruelty, in sheer justice to
him whose voice Is now hushed in death, and
whose wrongs can only be vindicated by the
living action of the law.
If therefore you may at any moment think
your case a hard one and your punishment too
severe—if one repining thought arises in your
mind or murmuring word seeks utterance from
your lips, think, oh think, of him instantly de
prived of life by your guilty bond. Then, if
not 4).4 to all sense of retributive justice—if
you have any compunction arising from your
conscience—you may be ready to exclaim in the
bitter angush of truth, I have sinned against
Heaven and my own soul. My punishment is
just. God be merciful to me a sinner ! "
God grant that your example may afford a
solemn warning to all, especially the young.
May it impress deeply upon every mind the
salutary lesson it is intended to teach—to guard
a , minst the indulgence of unhallowed and vindic
tive passion—to resist temptation to every
selfish, sordid and wicked purpose—to listen to
the warnings of conscience and yield to the
claims of duty; and whilst they instinctively
shrink with abhorrence from the first thought
of assailing the fife of another, may they learn
to reverence the laws of God and society, design
ed to secure the protection of their own.
We forbear from obvious cot: sidera lions from
adding such words of advice as may be some
times thought appropriate an occasions like this.
It lies only within our province on occasions
like the present, to address the illiterate, the
degraded, the outcast, whose early life has been
cast among the vicious—the neglected, the
abandoned, who have been blest with no means
of moral and religious culture; who have never
received the benefit of cultivated society nor
enjoyed the sweet and ennobling influences of
home. To such an one a word of advice upon
an occasion so impressive, may be a word fitly
spoken and tend to good; but in a case like this,
where these circumstances are all reversed, no
word of ours could be more efficacious than the
suggestions of your own better thoughts to
which we commend you.
But as we are assigned, this last sad daty of
pronouncing sentence, which is indeed the voice
of the law and not our own, yet in giving utter
ance we cannot do it with feelings of inditfer
ence, as a format and official oat. God forbid
that we should be prevented from indulging anti
expressing those irrepressible feelings of in
terest, sympathy and compassion which arise
spontaneously in our heart.
We most sincerely and cordially deplore the
distressing condition Into which crime has
brought Iron, and though we have no word of
present consolation or of earthly hope to offer
you, in this hour of your affliction, yet we de.
voutly commend you to the mercy ofour [leaven
ty Father, with whom, in his abundance of
mercy, and from whom we may all hope for
pardon and peace.
And row, nothing remains, but the solemn
duty of pronouncing the sentence which the
law fixes for the crime of murder, of which you
stand convicted, which sentence is, that you,
John W. IVelister, be removed from this place,
and be detained in close custody in the prison
di this county, and thence be taken at such time
as the egectitive goVerntrient of this Common
wealth may, by their warrant appoint, to the
place of execution, and there be hong by the
neck until you are dead—and may God, of his
infinite goodness, have mercy on your soul
NASSO,
Incidents of Saturday night and
Sunday.
It is understood that the jury, after going out
on Saturday night, at first deliberated in silence
for ten minutes. They then voted on the ques
tion Whether the remains were those of Dr.
Geo. Parkman. There was an unanimous "yea.'
On the second question, whether Dr. Webster
murdered film, there were eleven yeas and one
nay. The nay came from Mr. Benj. H. Greene.
He stated his point of doubt, and after some
discussion he declared it removed.
The family of Dr. Webster was not informed
atilt, verdict the night it was rendered. Friends,
however, undertook the task of preparing their
minds for it. The awful disclosures were made
to them on Sunday morning by Mrs. Wm. E.
Prescott. The scene was most heart-rending,
and the wails and shrieks could not be conceal
ed from the passers by. Every effort has been
made by their friends to assuage the grief of the
afflicted wife and daughters, who, up to a late
hour, confidently expected an acquittal.
HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, APRIL 9, 1850;
A letter of condolence was presented them on
Sunday afternonn, signed by the heads of all the
principal families of Cambridge, including the
Mott. Edward Everett, Jared Sparks, Prof.
Norton, Judge ray, ike.-
The immense cfnwil retired from the court
month and its vicinity in silence and without the
least disturbance.
Jute Fay gave it up that his friend, Dr.
Webster, was a guilty man aftrr hearing his
own speech on Saturday evening. Anecdotes
or the cruelty of Dr, W. in early lira are now
told by vertions who were then acquainted with
him.
THE BATTLE OF MOUNT TABOR.
Our renders, we arc convinced, will
feel a thrill of something deeper than
pleasure, in reading the spirited descrip
tions which follows, from Headley's 'Sa
cred Mountains
Forty•seven years ago, a form Wins
seen standing on Mount Tabor, with
which the world has since become fami
liar. It was a bright spring morning,
and as he sat on his steed in the clear
sunlight, his eye rested on a scene in
the vale below, which was sublime
and appalling enough to quicken the
pulsations of the calmest heart.—That
form was Napoleon Bonaparte, and the
scene before him the fierce and terrible
"BATTLE OF MOUNT TABOR" From Naza
reth, where the Saviour once trod,
Metier had marched with three thousand
French soldiers forth into the plain,
when 10, at the foot of Mount Tabor he
saw the whole 'Turkish army drawn up
in order of battle. Fifteen thousand in
fantry and twelve thousad splendid cav
alry moved down in majestic strength
on this band of three thousand French.—
K leber had scarcely time to throw his
handful of men into squares, with the
cannon at the eagles, before these twelve
thousand horses, making the earth smoke
and thunder as they came, burst in a
headlong gallop upon them.. But round
those steady squares rolled a tierce de
vouring tire, emptying the saddles of
those wild horsemen with frightful rap
idity, and strewing the earth with the
bodies of rulers and steeds together.—
Again and again did these splendid squad
rons wheel, reform and charge with
deafening shouts, while their uplifted
and flashing cimeters gleamed like a
forest of steel throng!' the smoke of bat
tle, but that same wasting fire received
them till those squares seemed bound
by a girdle of flame, so rapid and con
stant were the discharges. Berme their
certain and deadly aim, as they stood
fighting for existence, the charging
squadrons fell so fast that a rampart of
dead bodies was soon formed around
them. Behind this embankment of dead
men and horses, this band of warriors
stood and fought for six dreadfal hours,
and was still steadily thinning the ranks
of the enemy, when Napoleon debouched
with a single division on Mount Tabor,
arid turned his eye below. What a
a scene net his gaze. 'The whole plain
was filled with marching columns and
squadrons of wildly galloping steeds,
while the thunder of cannon and fierce
rattle of musketry, amid which now and
then teas heard the blast of trumpet:,
and strains or martial music, filled all
the air. The smoke of battle was rol
ling furiously over the hosts, and all was
confusion and chaos in his sight. Amid
the twenty-seven thousand Turks that
crowded the plain and enveloped their
enemy like a cloud, and amid the incess
ant discharge of artillery and musketry,
Napoleon could not tell where his own
brave troops were strugling, only by the
steady simultaneous volleys which
showed how discipline Was contending
with .the wild valor of overpowering
numbers. The constant flushes from be
hind that rampart of dead bodies were
like spots of flame an the tumultuous
and chaotic field. Napoleon descended
from Mount Tabor with his little band,
while a single twelve pounder, fired
from the height, told the wearied Kleber
that he was rushing to the rescue. Then
for the first time lie took the offensive,
and poured his enthusastic followers, on
the fallen foe, carrying death and terror
over the field. Thrown into confusion,
and trampled under foot, that mighty
army rolled turbulently back towards
the Jordan, where Murat was anxiously
writing to mingle in the fight. Dashing
with his cabalry among the disordered
ranks, he sabred them down without
mercy, and raged like a lion amid the
prey. This chivalric and romantic
warrior declaredtliat the remembrance
of the scenes that once transpired on
Alount Tabor, and on these consecrated
spots, came to him in the hotest of the
fight and nerved him with tenfold cour
age.
As the sun went down over the plains
of Palestine, and twilight shed its dim
ray over the rent and trodden and dead
covered field, a sulphurous cloud hung
around the summit of Mount Tabor.
The smoke of battle had settled there
where once the cloud of glory rested,
while groans and shrieks and cries rent
the air. Nazareth, Jordan and Mount
Tabor, what spots for battle-fields!
Roll back twenty centuries and again
view that hill, The day is bright and
beautiful as then, and the same rich ori•
ental landscape is smiling in the same
sun. There is Nazareth with its busy
population—the same Nazareth from
which Richer marched his army ; and
there is Jordan rolling its bright waters
along—the same Jordan along whose
banks charged the glittering squadrons
of Miirat's calvery ; and there is Mount
!Tabor—the seine on which Bonaparte
stood with his cannon ; and the same
beautiful plain where rolled the smoke
of mortal combat. But how different is
the scene that is passing there. The
Son of God stands on that height and
castS his eye over the quiet valley
through which Jordan winds its silver
current. Three friends are beside him;
they have Walked together up the toil-
some way, and now the foirr stand, mere
specks on the distant summit. Far away
to the north-west shines the blue Medi
terranean—all around is the great plain
of Esdrtekin and Galilee—ertstivard, the
lake of Tiberias dots the landscape,
while Mount Carmel lifts its naked sum
mit in the distance. But the glorious
landscape at their feet is forgotten in a
sublimer scene that is passing before
them. The son of Mary— ! die carpenter
of Nazareth—the wanderer with whom
they have eaten and drank, and travelled
on foot many a weary league, in all the
intimacy of companions and friends, be
gins to change before their eyes. Over
his soiled and coarse garments is spread
ing a strange light, steadily brightening
into intenser beauty, till that form glow
with such splendor that it seems to wa
ver to and fro and dissolve in the still
radiance. -
The three astonished friends gaze on
it in speechless admiration, then turn to,
that familiar face. But 10, a greater
change has passed over it. The man
has pat on the God, and that sad and
solemn countenance which has been so
often seen stooping over the couch of
the "dying, and entering the door of the
hut of poverty, and passing through the
streets of Jerusalum, and pausing by the
weary wayside—aye, bedewed with the
tears of pity—now burns like the sun
in his midday splendor. Meekness has
given wny to majesty—sadness to daz
-1 zlinn. glory—the look of pity to the
ffrandure of a God.
A Landlord Gratified.
A Yankee—but whether he was a tra
der or not, I can't say—stopped at a tav
ern, 'away up north, in the State of New
York, called for 'fixitts,' and after swal
lowing a pretty considerable bill, retired.
Meanwhile the landlord and interlopers
were busily engaged in conversation.—
By and by, Yankees and Yankee tricks
were discussed. The landlord informed
the bar-room• company there was a live
Yankee in the house, and if twere pos
sible, he would have a trick or two out
of lath before he left, while the aforsaid
hangers-on were to be witnesses. After
a 'jleasant smile,' all round, at the land
lord's expense, they left.
Next morning, landlord and company
were ready to snap at Mr. Yankee, as
soon as ho made his appearance. Break
fast being over in walks Jonathan, with
an air peculiar to folks ldeoun east,' paid
his bill, and was about to depart, when
the landlord accosted )aim with :
"You, it is plain to see, sir, are a
Yankee. Can or will you oblige as with
trick or two, for I assure you we nre
willing to be tricked if you can do it."
" Wall, donno' bout that, flee done
rt few in my time, but donno as I kin
dew anythilf smart this mornin.'"
"Oh do. Let's have a trick," cried
the eager crowd.
" seein' it's yeou dew itjest
to please yer ; but 1 swow, you mustn't
git read."
- "Olt no, not at all," says the land•
lord.
" I'll go his security," chimed old rum-
Doss.
"I reckon," says Jonathan 'yew sell
a prodigious sight of liquor in these
parts, and good tow. Yeou've a pipe of
wine down cellar, eh 1"
"Oh, rale stuff, too, I can tell you."
" Wall," says Jonathan, "come along
all yeou that want to behold the miracle
performed ;" and down they went into
the cellar. The said pipe was point.ci
out. "Neow," says the Yankee, "gen•
tlemen, yew see that pipe of wine, dew
yeou I A nod of assent went the rounds
of the crowd. "Wall, neow, I can take
brandy out of one end, and gin out of
Cother."
" Do it, and you can take my head for
a football," exclaimed the landlord.
Jonathan coolly drew from his pock
et a large gimlet, and bored a hole in one
end of the pipe, which hole the landlord
was requested to cover with his thumb.
lie did so; and soon a hole was bored in
"tother, while he end." Jonathan kept
a sober phiz during the operation, and
requested the landlord to stop up the
4ourna.
tether, while he went after somethin'
to put the denied stuff in. The land
lord complied with his request, and
streched across the pipe, resembling a
man-o-war's man about to receive a doz
en with the "cat." Jonathan meanwhile
decamped, lie did. The landlord's back
began to ache, and he began to think
the Yankee was a long time getting vi
als to put the liquor in. Soon the vials
of his wrath began to boil over, and
words too deep for human ears were
struggling for utterance, and he, holding
on, endeavored to keep the wine from
leaking out. Soon the hoax began to
leak from the out-siders.- By a•nd by,
one gave a laugh, and guessed the land
lord was done a teethe the brownest he'd
ever seen ; and then did'nt tike walls of
the old cellar ring again with bursts of
laughter T Well, they did.
The landlord raved and swore almost
—no, he was a deacon in the church !
And at last he broke forth with, 'Dog
my eternal eats, if I hain't been tricked
by the confounded Yankee." He tried
to get some one of the crowd to supply
his place, but old Rumnose never let a
good opportunity slip ; he though it
would be well, inasmuch as the landlord
had allowed himself to be tricked by
Mr. Yankee Doodle, that he (the land
lord) should treat all bawls, which hat,
ing promised faithfully to do, they re-a.,
leased the landlord from his tiresome po
sition after losing his patience and some
of his wine.
The Fero and the Printer.
" When Tamerlane had finished blin
ding his pyramid of seventy thousand
human sculls and was seen standing et
the gate of Damascus, glittering in steel,
with his battle axe on his shoulders,
'till fierce hosts filed out to new victo
ries and new carnage ; the pale looker=
on might have fancied that nature was
in her death throes ; for havoc and des
pair had taken possession of the earth—
the sun of manhood seemed setting in
seas of blood. Yet it might be on that
very gala day of Tamerlane, a little boy
was playing nine pins in the streets of
Metz, whose history was more impor
tant to man than that of twenty Tamer
lanes. The Tartar Khain, with his shag
gy demons of the wilderness, "passed
atvay like a whirlwind," to be forgotten
forever ; and that German artisan has
wrought a benefit which is yet immea
surably expanding itself through all
countries and through all times. What
are the conquests and expeditions of the
whole corporation of captains, from Wal
. ter the Pennyless to Napoleon Bonepart,
compared with these moveable types of
Faust ! Truly, it is a mortifying thing
is the metal which he hammers with
such violence ; now the kind earth will
soon shroud up 11:s bloody footprints;
and all that he achieved and skilfully
piled together, will be but like his own
canvass of a city camp—this evening
loud with life, to-morrow all struck and
vanished—a few earth-pits and heaps of
straw, for here as always, it continues
true that the deepest force is the stillest ;
that, as in the fable, the mild shining of
the sun shall silently accomplish what
the fierce blustering of the tempest in
vain essayed. Above all, it is ever to
keep in mind that, not by material, but 1
by moral power, are men and their ac
lions governed. flow noiseless is
thought ! No rolling of drum, no tramp
of squadrons, or immeasurable tumult
of baggage-wagons attends its move
ments. In what obscure and seques
tered places may be heard the medita
ting which is one day to be crowned with
more than imperial authority ! for kings
and emperors will be among the minis
tering servants; it will not rule over but
in all heads—and with these its solitary
eombinations of ideas, as with magic
formulas, bend the world to its will !
The time may come when Napoleon him
self will be better known for his laws
than fur his battles, and the victory of
Waterloo prove less momentous than the
opening of the first Mechanics' Insti
tute.—Carlyle.
We often censure the con..inct of oth
ers, when, under the :,ame circumstan
ces, we might not have acted half so
welt.
There are some who live wishout any
desig n at all, and only puss in the world
like straws upon a river; they do not go,
but they are carried.
Nothing can so fortify the heart a
gainst vice, as the love of n virtuous
woman. If you would avoid the State
prison, therefore, tie yontself to calico
as soon as possible. For the morals
there is nothing like the "dimity" af
ter all. It is even ahead of rattan.
Sombody thinks that if nature had de•
signed a man to be a drunkard, he would
have been constructed like a churn, so
that the more he drank, the firmer he
would stand.
VOL. XV, NO, 15,
WHEN' GREEK MEETS GRIME", &C.— ,
One of those unhappy fanatics, who
positively insist upon the' dissolution of
the Uniorivreceived a terrible beating oh
Tuesday evening; which Was brought
about after this fashion 4.:
The fanatic held in his hand
tion for disunion, to which he was soli.
citing signatures. Unfortunately het
stopped an Irishman, and requested hie
name.
" What good can my name do you 1"
inquired the Emerald Islander.
"The time for action has nt length
come ;• the infamous slaveholders of the
South must lie put down—the slave
must be freed, the constitution --"
" What are you palavering about 1"
said Pat impatiently..
"The Union must lie . dissolved !" em•
phatically replied the fanatic.
" The what screamed Pat.
" The Union," said the petitioner.
" Is it destroy the country ye mane 1"
"Any thing, so we free the slave."
" No*, ain't licru a putty Illackguardl"
exclaimed Pat.
, t Take care what you say, sir."
it Tunder and turf, ye spalpeen—but
it's meself that has the notion to break
every bone in your unmannerly ear
case."
Beware, sir."
la it threat'ning me ye are 1 Take
that—and tfiat—and that," shouted the
patriotic Irishman, as he emptied his
fists right and left into the face of the
fanatic who in vain tried to oppose so ,
unnata•rxl a demonatriition.
A crowd soon gathered,. and patriotic
Pat was suffered to escape; when the
facts were evplained.—Citylrem.
SIR H. L. ButwEresi%LtrnFssro.—We
are glad to notice the spirit which has.
been awakened by the publication of
the manifesto of the• British minister
in favour of the tariff' of 1846. The
Whig press of the interior is speaking
out boldly on the subject, and we most
sincerely hope and believe that the•
appearance of this ministerial epistle•
will have the effect of opening the eyes•
of many who have hitherto been incredu
lous as to the real character of the pree
sent tariff.
The Miner's Journal, in refering to
the subject, says :
"The question is now presented to
the American Congress in a plainer
light than ever—it is whether the Brit
ish or American petition shall be gran
ted--whether the laborers of England
or those of America, shall be fostered
by the hand of our governnent! What
will the iron manufacturers of our State
—a state whose future prosperity des
pends on the measures of government—
say to thisi Can they quietly witness
such desecration on the part of the Brit
ish governmenti We trust they will
be ready to exclaim with Mr. Stnnly,
from North Carolina—" How dare the
British minister interfere with our domes
tic policy!" Of course, Congress will
not follow the advice (1) but legislate in
a manner that will promote the inter
ests of America, regardless of the disa
greeable effect" it would produce in
other nation, and teach foreign minis
ters that we tire able to take care of
ourselves, and will not permit such in
solent Interference in our domestic af
fairs."
Laughing in the Pulpit.
Said Mr. C-, a Presbyterian minister of
some notoriety, I never laughed in the pulpit
only on one occasion, and that came near procur
ing my dismissal from the ministry. About
one of the first discours.:s I was called to de
liver, subsequent to my ordination, after read
ing my test and opening my sithject, my atten
tion was directed to a young man with a very
foppish dress, and a head of exceeding red hair.
In a slip immediately behind this young gentle.
man sat an urchin, who must have been urged
on in his deviltry by the evil one himself, fat I
do not conceive the younstet thought of the jest
he was playing off on the spruced dandy in freest
of him. The boy held his fore-finger in the hair
of the youni; man about as long at a blacksmith
would T. nail rod in the fire to heat and then an
his knee, commenced pounding his finger in
imitation of a smith making a nail. The
whole thing was so ludicrous that I laughed, the
only time that I ever disgraced the pulpit with
any thing like mirth.
MR. CALHOUN'S SPEECH.—The Balti•
more Patriot in referring to Qtr. Cal
houn's speech, says :
"In few or none of its conclusion*
do we agree—in none of its anticipations
of evil to result to the Union from what
Congress may do or mny not do, can we
share—and to the bent of the argument
—the dissolution of the Union—winch
swayed the author's mind, we are unal
terably opposed."
THE WEBSTER WATCH..-.-FirtSen eubscribers,
all of which Eastern merchants, have united
to purchase the very best plain gold . watch that
can be got in New York city, to be attached to
the heavy gold chain already prepared, for pre
sentation to Daniel Webster. The watch and
chain will be the most aplended establishmeot
of the kind ever got up.
I
I