.L‘-• / BY JAS. CLARK. FIRM. . WM. U. PEIGHTAL, & CO., (IN the let day of June 111.111., will open A 11 SPLENDID STORE in the room formerly occupied by John N. Prowell, opposite Wallace. notel, where goods will be sold on such tarns a.- Cannot fail to prove highly advantageous to put ihasers. The highest market price will be paid at all times, IN CASH, for Wheat, Rye nitd Corh, and other country produce will he taken in ex 'change for goods. Huntingdon, Atuil 80, 1850. NEW riIIITURE. SEND IN YOUR ORDERS. I — OR the accomirmilation of 'tlie 'community generally, William 11. Peightal & Co. pur pose attaching to their establishment au 011 ice fof the transaetipri of the .gBinall parcel bari /ass," betweeli this place and Philadelphia. A register will be kept in which all orders will be transcribes', and a copy of the same forwardeu immediately tolhe Agent'in Philadelphia ' who will cin the next day send by "Adams' & Co's. Exprhss," the parcels FO ordered. It is not de- Eigned to confine this portion of their business to any one particular class of articles ; but it will embrace everything which call he transport ed in the manner indicated. Such, fur example, as Dry MIO4B of all kinds, Books, Stationary, Silk goods', runcy articles, Hats, Caps, Ready made clothing, &c. &c. Articles of dress for Ladies, (Made up or in the piece) will be select ed with great care, and the strictest attention will be paid to style. Their orders are earnest. ly solicited, and they are assured that no pains will be spared to secure articles in strict accor dance with their wishes. Everything thus or dered will be furnished at precisely city cost, deducting a small per ientage for expenses of transportation and time occupied in procuring the sameand this will be merely nominal com pared with the heavy advances usually charged by the stores. As this feature in Our estahlishmani is not Intended to be a source of profit to the proprie tors, but is designed splely with the view of ac commodating the public in town anti country, it Is therefore reasonable to expect that all (Hers Will be accompanied with money sufficient in Cover the supposed cost oldie articles so ordered. The foregoing arrangement will not go into effect until the Ist day of June next, but as Mr. Peightal will leave, on the 15th inst., for Phila delphia and Baltimore, he will be happy to re receive orders prior to that date, all of which shall meet with his personal attention. There fore send in your o tiers. WM. 11. PEIGHTAL Fs: CO. Huntingdon, May 7,185 U. NOW FOR THE BARGAINS! Xett , and Splchrlid .ftssortment of SPRING & SUMMER GOODS, Has just been received at the Cheap and popular Stand of Elm .11drkei Square, Huntingdon Pa. Ti IS stock has been selected with _ great alive, with a view to' cheap- iTi:eaid g eed ot,,ltty, and coinptirea. in part, t.;ititha of all k inds, French, Belglart and Fancy C:waitneres, Kent itchy Jeans, thoton, Organ, lochs, Vs:stings, Flannels and Drillifigs, and a variety ol Cotton gores for sum mer weir, Mouslin de /.Dines, Frettch Lawns, aul Scarfi, shawls and Ilandherihiers, Alm], tt, Merino*, a large assort'. nt of Calicoes cf newest 'styles and at low prices, Earlston. F;•erich, Scotch and Don-mole Girgliants and eßizorines, French and Itiolt I.ireno, S.:becks, lied Tiekings, Muslim , and rihectings, Ate. finning heretofore been honored by a large patronage from the !oldies ho hue procured the moot elegant !resort ment of Ladies' Dress doc 6, ova, bre:iglu to rho interior of the Stnte. Also: Raafel'hoes, Hats and Caps, Grocertes, Hardware, Qaccnsware, &c., nml a great variety of goods of all kind.. In t..hart he fir prepared to Mier Gretit Bargains to cAoeiivlio favor lain with ti c k r i u tnin. Alf nrn invitfd in call and judge fur I hewelves. -It uff , rda hire pleasure to exhibit his gouda at all All kinds of County} Produce totters. in; ca for goods. UEO. UWIN. April 2, .1850. \\ A r" , GRES, (LOCKS, TAITIFaIIit.T 8i LV tt it W AR 14:, TI.. u'eilersigusd has just returned. from the East, and is now opening at his New a (kind, three doois West of T. Rest& gone' Store, and directly opposite the Sons of Temperance Hall, A large and very superior assortment of Gold and Silver Watches, 8 day ar,d 30 .hour Brass Clocks, Jewelry of the moat roahionable ntyles, Silver wore, pUtlery,:Perfurnety, Soaps, locket Books, Port rdounaire, Pistols, Nuts and fine Letter with m general o.ortment of Funcy Gouda. The unusually low Prices t which we are determined to dispose of this Stock, Offers peculiar inducements to purchasers. All - should remember this fact before making th - elrpurchnees. as kits our Ased determination to sell our Watched, Jewelry eic.,at a very small profit, and thus establish our reputation fur The Cheapest and Best Articles. Watches anti Clocks neatly and carefully re. paired.—The Highest Price allowed for Old tiold act! Silver. . J. T. SCOTT, N. B. Oor friends find others who may wish to pat roni:e "SCOTT'S CHEAP JE WEI .RY STORE," will please bear in mind that he boa removed lifet eetablislunent from the corner long occupied by D. Buoy, to the location above described, where he hopes to greet his old and many new customers. _ _ _ Huntlngilon, Apt! O. 1860. fv - , ----..,-- ,1 0 i 'tAn - ,Unobtli4 CINOICE POETRY. To Be Alone. BY LYDIA JANE PEIRSON' To be alone when sorrow lays Iler hand upon the heart, And with her burning fingers, tenrs, The chords of joy apart, Wh'en cherished hopes, like summer birds On mocking wing, have flown; When all our dewy flowers are dead--; This is tb be alone. Te be alonewhen those we lave Turn carelessly away; And Frieitdship,;--with a light excuse Protests she cannot stay; When base born hearts, from gilded heights - With lordly pride look down. And taunt us with sarcastic sneers,-- This is to be alone. To be alone—when to the soul The cup of grief is given, Anti wrongs and woes, with raven wing, Obscure the light of heaven; To have no rest on which to lean, No love to call our own, No sympathy—no earnest aid-- This is to be alone. Alone—alone?—while God is near, Who teaeheth in his word; That with an ever-present care Ile keeps the little bird? Kind Father ! give me grace to say Always--thy will be done. Then, though the world be desolate I shall not be alone. CONFESSIONS OF A GAMBLER; I am an old, gray-haired man. 1 have out-lived not only My friends and my generation, but even my passions and my write my confessionto lay bare to the world the heart of a gatntilerto expose in all its retten. nen and corruption, as a warning to the young. Var many a year I have walked the world alone—for a gambler has no communion with it more than the tiger has with the animals offire forest, or the vulture with the winged citizens of the air, I have gone through life, blasting and destroying—crushing the green young heart— bittering and poisoning its springscursing it with thildeW and barrenness. By my means many a youth has passed from innocence and happiness f gUilt and misery. I haVe lived, spoiling and being spoiled. I have been lucky and fortunate.—Out of the misery and blood of a thousand victims I have reined Wealth;:::and now, in the midst of my ill-gotten fortune, I sit down to make what reparation I may. Some of these sketches ha;:e been written for years—before I was utterly corrupted—before I became, both externally and internally a fiend; others I hove marked down with the trembling pen of old age. I have passed through the world like a stranger, an isolated and solitary being, not bound to my species by any ties, either of love, kindness, gratitude, or pity. None will now remember my name; and when I die there will be none to lament over me. • My fattier was a merchant in one of our north ern cities, and I was taken from school, when fifteen years 6f age, Mid placed in his counting Changed as I now em—my heart withered and blasted by the fierce fire of passion—l look back on my youth as !hp' it were a dream of a former and bettei existence. I cannot realize that I was Mice d Lively, happy And MlNcent bay,—that the world once seemed bright and pleasant to meandthat I had once a fellowship with man and a kindly feeling for all around me —while t now stf Ake. a maniac in his cage, wrapped in gloom and loneliness. I cannot feel that the current in my veins once run warm and beating, and that my heart was once green and bright as that of the orphan boy who owes me his bread, and who Is the only human being that loves me. Yet it is true. 1 was once happy— happy as he is.—There were fete faMilies so happy as ours. It consisted of my parents and two . Children—myself and a sister elder than I. lived peaceably and in harmony, and our fire-side was iu truth a partake. , • . Whent was about seventeen, I met Emily E---- at the house of a friend. There is a thrill in this heart yet at her name, for I loved her. Perhaps the fallen archangel hived some bright being before he plunged frord his high estate into the lowest. heft. Lite, which before had been bright and glorious to my young spirit became infinitely more so. A tumult of joy, happiness, fear and transport agitated my breast. She was my existence, het voice was ;Ike an echo within my own heart. She, hut this is wondering from the subject, and I feel doubly wretched when I wander amid the wrecks and ruins of past happiness. I was More their seventeen years of age when I first entered a gaming house. I had hardly known of their existence, when one night I ac companied a friend into one. I had with me something near twelve hundred dollars, which had collected for the purpose of depositing in the batik next day. My friend borrowed fifty dollars of me, which he bet and lost at faro. Determined not to let it be lost, I began myself to bet. As my money glided away, I became feverish, hot and harsh. I bet without judg ment and soon lost five hundred dollars. Alarm ed and startled s I sprung from the table, left the house and hurried home. My mother and sister were still upoind, with a strong effort at self possession and cheerfulness, I exchanged as few words, gave a light answer to their inquries and hurried to my chamber. My brain burned like a volcano, my heart oppressed and pained me, my tongue was dry, and my throat sore. Hour J. T. TIUNTINGDON PA., TUESDAY, MAY 21, 1850. after. hour I paced my chamber. I cursed my own folly and guilt, and I already felt my heart withering and wasting. • It was easy for me to replace the money whiCh t had lost. I did so. Night afternighi I ievieited the gaming home. I felt the curse upon me. An eager love for cards took possession of me. My dreams were of piles of money—of sudden and unfavorable changes of fortune. Sleep fOr soak me, I grew thin and pale, and the insatia ble appetite of the gambler filled my heart. In the course of a few weeks I lost ten thousand dollars. The plague came upon the city. My lather, my mother, and my sister were attacked. I watched by them till night came, and then called up the servants, and went to my usual haunts. They were desolate and deserted—all but one—and the dealer only was there. The streets were silent; the room was gloomy and the foul scent of the atmosphere of pestilence was around as we played. I non; his hoards of bills and gold were spread out when he changed color. The plague had seized hint—he fell, and the burning leVer come on him. I took my winnings—for then I would have scorned to steal his gold--and returned homeward. I heard loud cries, and rushed in. Death was there. The Plague had done Its work. My parents, my sister, and Emily, were dead. Thank God! they died, and none of them knew that I was a gambler. Since then I have been a wanderer. I have seen many countries, yet nowhere have I found a friend or one to love me. Fortune has favored. me. Stores of wealth, inexhaustible stores, are around me: yet I have enjoyed nothing. I have practised all the frauds and tricks of the "profession."—Young men have corns where I was, innecent and unsuspecting, and have gone away wretched, corrupted and ruined, to per petuate crimes which afterwards rendered them a loathing to society. Guilt, reguilt is on me— ttle damning consciousness of crime which has wrought much misery. Let none imagine that a gambler is ever happy. Even though successful, the agony of guilt is on him, and tortures him. The groans of orphaned children—the last grasp of despairing suicides —the cry of the multitude at the gallows where his victim is sus?iended—the agony of the moth er lamenting her lost son- - --the silent despair of the grey headed father—the ',wilting heart of the woman for her lover—all haunt his sleep, and curse bliss with remorse and clinging terror. I would warn the young against this terrible •)•icethisparent of crime, this tell hydra of gaming. Let them believe one who has seen it in all aspects, from the salons of Paris and the hells of London, to the foul dens of Natchez and New Orleans. Let them believe me when I tell them that it is a curse and a destruction to its votaries. It does in truth turn the human heart to ashes. I wish to write down the scenes which I witnessed. I might make a large book of them; and Irentiest him into whose hands these sheets may fall, after my death, to publish them to the world. It is the only good service I have ever rendered to my species. There was a time when I took the most in tense interest in a horse race. The fiery cours ers fleeting dray side by side—the eager anxiety of the crowd, the excitement of the sportsmen, and the rapidity of the bets, make it the favorite amusement of the gambler. 11 seems Ao, be sidered the least reprehensible of all kinds of gaining, and accordingly tolerated in many States, the laws of which are in other respects very severe agninst gaming. One race which I attended after I had passed the meridian of life is indelibly fixed upon my memory. It was in the Western part of the United States, in the year 18.. I had been but a day or two in the place where it was held and was totally unacquainted. For reasons which must be obvious, I shall honer give the locality of the sketch, nor the true names of the parties. The occurences, as I shall pen them, are facts, end I have no ridlit to trample on the already briiised feelings of those fa whom the femem branee is full of keen agony and anguish. Suffice it, that it was one of those communities where hoise idling is tolerated, and tending to improve the breed of their horses,—and being free from the cruelty of cock fighting, and the frauds of other kinds of gaming. How conclusive the reasons for its toleration may be is not to my purpose: . . . Early in the morning I stood upon the race track, which Was a circular course of a mile:—a rough and uneven path, just cut in the woods. The horses for the first race, a grey and a sorrel, were already there, walking up and down; and bets were taken rapidly on the grey. There were, perhaps, five hundred people present; and at a little distance from the track I observed a faeb bank and a roulette table, both surrounded. —Among the crowd I saw at a glance many . of the fraternity, who are easily distinguished by a practised eye, th3iigh it would be impossible to describe the distinctive marks which enable One to single them out in a crowd. Certain it is, however, that it is easily done. Gamblers are all clansinen; they stick together, and when one of them is nbroken," he finds no difficulty in Obtaining a "stake" again, to enable him to continue the practice of his frauds and villany. My attention was particularly turned, however, to one young man who was eagerly betting, and yet seemed not to belong to the clan.—He was a tall, stout, ruddy man, ,about thirty years of age, once, without doubt, handsome, but with his countenance new disfigured and bloated by the indulgence a ungoverned passions and the demon cf drunkenness. He was well dressed, l and bore the appearance of a gentleman. I dis covered that a number of the gamblers had gath eredaround him, and combined to4liick They were blterinE large bets against the grey, and, I know not for what reason, I determined to rescue him. It was no virtuous or kindly feel ing which prompted me to it. It was rather in instinctive movement, proceeding from a momen tary repugnance to those of my own herd, which has to some degree clung to me throtigh life. I was not known to them as a gambler, and I watched them closely. In a short time the young man had bet five hundred dollars. I walk ed to him. "Will you allow me to take some of these bets off your bands 7" He bowed, and in a polite, gentlemanly manner answered that he would do it with pleasure, as he knew but little of horse racing. I took every bet that was offered, and in a short time had three thousand dollars bet on the grey. Now I Was convinced that the grey would lose. Does the reader understand why I bet on him? I will explain in a moment. ( here was a tall harpy look ing gambler busy about the sorrel, and I believed he was the real owner of him, though another acted as the ostensible one. I accosted the tall fellow at Once, hilt PriVately, and offer- ed bluffly to bet a thCiisand dollars On the sorrel. He was nonplussed for a moment, looked wildly around him, and took me up. I then retired to give him full play. *hen he thought me otit of sight, he went to the horses, now nearly ready for running, whispered to the little negro who was to ride for him, and pretended to tighten the girth 6f his jockey saddle; but, as I expected, he loosened it. The horses Were brought up, the judges were at the stand, my friends antici pating the rich harvest of three thousand dollars already staked, were grinning and whispering at the certainty that the sorrel would win, as he easily could have done. I mounted my horse; the racers started beautifully, abreast, with springs like grey-hounds; I rode swiftly across the track. The sorrel kept ahead for about half a mile, when, of a sudden the saddle tinted —the boy came tumbling in the dust, and the frightened at the saddle under his belly, "flew the track" into the vitods, and the grey beat. I cooly pocketed two thous and dollars, after paying the one thousand dol lars which I had lost, Sod my gentlemanly ac quaintance took his liVe hundred. After the race was over, I made some inqui ries concerning him, and the follovvifig is what then and since Iglehned Of him and his character. . . Lieutenant Donovan, of the U. S. Army—l do not give his real name—was one of the finest and most accomplished officers in the service. His father had been a captain in the revolution ary war, under Marion and Sumpter, and had educated his son with a view to the profession which he had so honorably followed, and to the service of the country—the only thing in which he gloried. Donovan's grandfather was an Irish , man, and had transmitted all the virtues of his countrymen to his descendants, as well as many of their faults. Donovan himself was one of the finest specimens of the true gentleman, es well of the United States' Officer. Of fine appear ance, cultivated mind, and excellent education, he was brave as a lion, generdes to a failing, and the most gleesome and convivial of his mess. lie was uniieriallY BeldVed by his comrades, whose pride and affection centered in him, and withal, he was in a fair way for rapid promotion. Ile.hid seen service In Canada and on the lakes, and, after the war, had been stationed for two or three years at a frontier post. In the meantime, however, lie had married a beautiful and accom plished Women--a splendid, Juno-like creature, who accompanied him to his outpost, where he was stationed as assistant paymaster, and braved with him the desert's.privatiens and the savage. Why then was he not happy? Why these signs of dissipation and the scathing of hot passion in his facet The fiend had sewed upon him.—The , insatiable appetite for gaming hail clutched his heart, and gnaWed it, as the "winged hound of heaven" did that of the chained Prometheus; in toxication, its servant and its minister followed it, and poured its deadly poison on the festering heart. He became irregular in his habits, intern peraie to his conduct—esiranged and self-exiled i froin her. The lips of the anxious wife were often pressed to the hot; fel ., effsh brow, and de filed by the pelluiing breath of the gambler and drunkard. Bad as 1 have been—steeped in sin and shame to the lips—l thank my God that I never had a wife to pollute even with a gambler's caress; for, drunkard I never was. • The victim of the tyrant—chained to a corpse which he was forced to bear about, day after day, and night after night, while it festered and rotted away, and dropped piece-meal from the gyves and fetters Which held the dead to the living— suffered nothing in comparison with the pure hearted and virtuous compelled, night after night, to pillow upon her unstained and in nocent besoin the loathesome :lead of the drun kard and the gambler—the remains of what she still loves. She left him at length and returned to her friends ; but when did the fire of love grow cold in the heart of woman 1 She could not but look back to him, and ehe determined again to see him—again to attempt to wean him back to self-resiect and to himself. She was on her way to the frontier, and I remember passing her at a place or. the road—a gentle yet magnificent creature—with a high, proud, yet mournful coun- 4.fourttor tenance, like one into whose soul the iron had entered deeply, and rusted there. I have thought that when my parents and my only sister were swept away by the hot Pesii- Nice, had Emily but survived, I had been a changed and a better man. With the eyes of the plague stricken dying gambler upon me— in my very soul, like a hideous dream—l had fled homeward : and there they lay, not pale, as seems natural in death; but black, distorted, ghastly .d dreadful. A most terrible feeling of horror, and dismay, and self-hatred, and con• tempt, filled my heart, and had Emily then lived, perhaps I had lived another life—who knows 1 Here was Honovah; with a gliirious and Blessed creature of light and love following him,—while he was madly squandering his money—bie mon ey 1 No ! not his f—at a race track. This tre mendous passion fcii gaming masters and en thralls, one by one, all the other passions—love kindness, friendship, even avarice itself. Ali the other passions become its ministers, or are annihilated. But lam wanderidg. That night Donavan entered a private room, and was locked in, with three men; all gamblers--one, the harpy I have already mentioned ; the others, officers of loverhikent. I weld liave prevented it, I be lieve, but I was too late. They were together two days and nights, playing brag. Ido not know how they played; but, from my knowl edge after Ward obtained of the character of the villains who gorged themselves upon, I know that they have played him foul. Manson, won Of hini live thousand dollars at one brag, from which he released him on the payment of half the amount. Donovan haul with him about ten thousand dollars in United States drafts—of which; and all his money, he was swindled be fore they separated. As soon as the sitting was over the confederates, or two of them at least— the harpy aforesaid, named Campbell, and Man son—started in company with poor Donovan to' get their drafts cashed at New Orleans. Ile appeared like a wretch dragged to the gallon's between his executioners. His fine sense of honor all gone—degraded, despised, even by the villians who had ruined him, with his head hang ing on his breaat, dejecticiti in Ills eYe . and des pair in his look—demons themselVes Would have pitied him. His wife heard the dreadful tidings of his final ruin-L'his final apOstacy from honor, and in speechless agony retraced her sad step's to the residence of her friends. The voltdres, however, ne'tiei reaped the wages of their A comrade of Don ovan, Lieut. D—, who happened to hear the news of their robbery, pushed on ahead of them and stopped payment of the drafts, and wrote immediately to the proper department. Man son and Campbell left Donovan sick, pennile'ss and abused in New Orleans, and hurried back as if a bloOdhound was tracking them. Some two months afterward I Was ascending one of the western rivers in a steamboat. I I observed a man in one of the berths, and recog nised him to be Donovan. He was on his way to his post; for what object Heaven only knows! for the bolt of disgrace and dishonor hail fallen upon him and blasted him. He would of course be cashiered, and could not be recognised by his former comrades. He was thin and meagie, face pale and bloodless, his eyes cloaded and sunken, and his dress abandoned and neglected. During the first day he rose once or trice, end to me the sight Whith he presented was most awful. I bad seen men swinging on the gallows and suicides, bloody, and blackened, and man gled, with the pistol shot; but here was one, young accomplished, generous and bravean outcast and fallen. His fietise ;f hcinor, his proud feeling, had all eine; he Was bowed down, humbled, trodden in the dust—committing sui cide by starvation. He ate nothing, but dianic immense quantities of brandy; talked tone one and on the second day did not rise fram his bed: He still drank—drank ! and on the third night watched by him. His reason left him; his sun ken eyes glaied fiercely, and for an beta he ut tered the most terrible, ci ies. None slept on board that boat; his cries were not shrill, but loud, hoarse whisperings which rang and echoed through the boat. 01,, this fiery serpent—hie fangs pierce my heart like live lightening! Gnaw on, reptile—conscience has a more tortur ing tooth !, HelPt help l—close around me con, rades ! My own dear girl !—my wife !—smile on me ! lia! old man I did not expect you— not you; here. Ha ! ha ! ha !" he laughed— ',Look here, doctor—into this hand ! See !" and he moved his hands as though shuffling the cards —"ls it a good one Igo five thousand better ! Lost! lost !—all lost I say, what is that black neis in the corner ?" He raised himself up right, his eyes glared, his' hand quivered—Cash-, iered t dishonored !-a clog!" he whispered, and fell back on the pill Ow. Donovan was no more. TOO POLITE.-- The Springfield Repub lican says that there was °nee a man in that town who was so• polite as to say, as he passed a hen on her nest, "don't rise, ma'm l" D''The Springfield Republican states that Mr. Orrin P. Wilson, of that town has laid an egg on their table! A fact in Physiology that needs investigation." CONUNDRUDIS.-Why is a restless ;nark in bed like a lawyer 1 Because he lies on all sides. Why are a dead duck and a dead doc tor a like 1 Because they both atop quacking. VOL. XV, NO. 20, A GOOD STORE. One of the best legal stories we know of is that of the Round Robin, as it is familiarly called in the lower circuits of North Carolina. and owes its humor to the very fertile and cultivated mind of a lawyer who is still alive in a distant Western State. All the lawyers attending court about the year '.BlO boarded at the Louse ofMr. S., who, at the beginning ()ibis life as a publi can, was assidious and provident, but riches multiplied, and Boniface became lazy, Amity and parsimonious. His accommodations, as they are usually called,from being the very best, had by degrees degenerated into the very worst in the whole conntry. This was borne with mutterings from time to time until, in a ht of desperation, the whole fraternity or fawyers, after mature deliberation in congress assembled, resolved to quit the house, and go to another to the same Village. The duty of announcing the separation was devolved upon the gentleman above specified, who being somewhat struck with the Mock importance the affair had assum ed, wrote the following, and sent it to the land lord, signed with the names of all the decedents in a round ring below A DECLARATION When, iil the course of human events, it be comes necessary for a half hungry, half fed, imposed on set of men, to dissolve the bonds of landlord and boarder, a decent respect for the opinions of mankind, requires that they should declare the cause 'Which have impelled them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self evident: —that all men are created with mouths and bellies; and they are endowed by the creator with cer tain inalienable debts, among which is, that no' man shall be compelled to starve out of more complaisance to a landlord; and that every man has a right to fill his belly and wet his Whistle with the best that's going. The history of the present landlord of the White Lion is a history of repeated insults, exaa lions, and injuries, all having in direct object the establishMent of absolute tyranny over our itomachs and throats. To }We've this, let facti be submitted to a candid world. He has refused to keep anything to' chink Gut ball-laced whiskey. He has refused to set upon his table for dinner; anything bot turnip , soup, with a little bull-bee( and sourkrout, which are not wholesome and necessary for the public good. Ile has refused to let his only blink eye Joe; put more than six grains of coffee to one gallon water. He has turned loose a multitude of flies, and swarms of bed bugs to assail us in the peace: able hours of ihe Eight', and to eat our sUbstaner: He has kept up, in our beds and bedsteads, standing armies of these merciless savages, with their` scalping knives and tomahawks, whose rule of warfare is undistinguished des truction. . . Ile has excited domestic insurrections among us, by getting drunk before breakfast, and trek= ing his wife and servant so before dinner, where. by there has often been the devil to pay. Ile has waged cruel war against nature her self, by feeding otir horses with broom straw, and carrying them on to drink where swine re.; fused to wallow. He has protected one eyed Joe in his villainy; in the robbery of our jugs, by pretending icigive him a mock trial, after sharing with him the spoil. Ile has cut off our trade with foreign ports, and brought in his own ball-faced Whiskey, when we had sent him to buy better liquor abroad, and with a perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, he has been known to drink our foreign spirits, and fill up our bottles with his own dire potions. Ilk has imposed tas'es upon us to an enormous amount, against our consent, and without On) , rule but his own arbitrary will and pleasure: A landlord whose character is thus marked by every act Which may define ti tyrant and miser, is unfit to keep a boarding house for Cherokee Indians. Nor have we been wanting in our attentions to Mrs. S. and Miss Sally. We have warned them from time to time of the attempts of S.—L. to starve and fleece us.—We have reminded them of the circumstances of our coming to board With him—we have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity—we Laic , con jured them to alter a state of things which would inevitably interrupt our connection and corres. pondence.—They too have been deaf to the voice of justice. We are therefore constrained to hold all three of these parties alike inimical to Otri well being, and regardless of our comfort. We therefore make this solemn declartitiOn of our final seParation from our former landlord, and cast our defiande inhis teeth. RAILROAD TO Tii tii(AV.-A branch rail way has heft Constructed at New York from the Long Island road, to the Cypress Hill Cemetery. 4 Two trains day are to be run for the accommodation of funerals and visitors. oz:7 - The iron for the Pittsburgh and Cleveland Railroad has been contracted for in England, and 2000 tons have been shipped. The iron will reach Cleve: land by way of Quebec, and the work in to be pushed forward as rapidly as pos sible.
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