.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.