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VOL. 5--NO. 51.]
the Jbtar
AND
REPUBLICAN BANNER.
BY ROBERT W. MIDDLETON.
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with attention.
THE GARLAND.
-"With sweetest flowers enrich'd,
From various gardens cull'd with care."
OC3- The following beautiful lines, from the Charles
ton(S. C.)"Rose-Bud," contain n useful and inter
citing moral to the comprehension of children, and
may not be devoid of 'interest' to minds of older
growth.
" IT IS SUNDAY!"
- • .! 1.,1- On;nr then.c.
At any other ume as weio
Must Sunday be the only day?"
Said thoughtful Isabel.
.
"I should be very sad if 1,
Who sorrow almost every day
For Something, must wait and sigh,
Till Sunday comes, to pray.
"When I have erred in deed or word,
And tears arise and blind my eye.
My heart and Ii s with jgayer are stirred,
77bigc to sigh.
"When softly on my downy bed
I wake, and find the morning there,
I think whose smile that morning made,
And speak to God in prayer.
"When day's bright door is shut, I know
Whose viewless hand forbids her beam,
And dare not to my slumber go,
Till Ihave prayed to Him.
"Oh, sister dear, no matter where, -
No matter what the hour of day,
The solemn eve, the morning fair—
'Tis always g ood to pray"
I SAW HIM A LADY.
I saw him smile, and oh! it seemed
So like the sunny smile's of Heaven,
That when he vowed, I fondly dreamed
Such vows to none but me wore given.
Burman is like the tickle breeze,
That fawns around each lovely flower,
And steals a kiss—then onward flees.
To revel in some gayer bower.
ANSWER.
-I SAW TIER SMILE:-/I FA GENTLEMAN
I saw her smile--the opening flower,
fragrance from its stem,
And claiming earth and air for dower,
And taunting all the toys of them,
Had not upon its petal'd breast,
The beauty that her brow express'd.
But woman's like the summer sea,
With mirrow'd heaven on its breast;
And darkest depths of treachery,
Beneath limiting crest,
And wo to him whose hand shall dare
To grasp the glories gathered there!
MISCELLANEOUS.
THE room' PENCE.
A little mean looking' man sat talking to
Mrs. Crowder, the mistress of the Punch
:owl: "Why Mrs. Crowder," said he,
should hardly know you, again! Really I
must say you have things in the first style.
What an elegant paper! what noble chairs!
what a pair of fire screens! all so bright and
so fresh! and yourself so well and looking so
well!"
Mrs. Crowder had dropped languidly into
an arm chair, and sat sighing and smiling
with affectation, not turning a deaf ear to
her visiter, but taking in, with her eyes, a
full view of what passed in the shop, having
drawn aside the curtain of rose-colored silk , '
which sometimes covered the window in
the wall, between the shop and the parlor.
"Why you see Mr. Berriman," she re
plied, "our business is a thriving one, and
we don't love to neglect it, for one must
work hard for an honest livelihood; and
then you see, my two girls, Letitia and Lu
cy, were' about to leave their boarding
school; so Mr. Crowder and I wished to
make the old place_as genteel and fashiona
ble as we could; and what with new stone
copings to the windows, and new French .
window frames to the first floor, and a little
papering, Mr. Berriman, we begin to look
tolerable. I must say, Mr. Crowder too,
has laid out a deal of money fitting up the
shop, and in filling his cellars."
"Well ma'am," continued Mr. Berriman,
"I don't know whero you find the needful for
all these improvements. For ny part, I
can only say, our trade seems quite at a
stand still. There's my wife always beg
gint for money to pay this or that little re.
cessary article, hut I part from eKery penuc
with a pain!. Dear Mrs. Ctowder, how da
you manage?"
"I WHO NO OTHER HERALD, NO OTHER SPRAFIRR OF HY
..LIVINO ACTIONS, TO lEi? MINE HONOR FROM CORRUPTION."--SHAIC94
Mrs. Crowder simpered; and raising her
eyes, and looking with a glance of smiling
contempt towards the crowd of customers in
the shop—" The fools' pence, 'tis THE FOOLS'
PENCE, that does it for us," she said.
Perhaps it was owing to the door being
just then opened, and left ajar by Miss Lu
cy, who had heen serving, in the bar, that
the words of Mrs. Crowder were heard by
a man named George Manly, who stood at
the upper end of the counter. He turned
his eyes upon the costumers who were stand
ing near him, and saw pale sunken cheeks,
inflamed eyes, and ragged garments. He
turned them upon the stately apartment in
which they were assembled, he saw that it
had been fitted up at no trilling cost; he
stared •through the partly open doorway into
the parlor, and saw looking glasses, and pic
tures, mid gilding, and fine firrniture, and a
rich carpet, and Miss Lucy in a silk gown,
sitting down to her piano -forte; and he tho't
within himself, how strange it is! by what a
curious process it is, that all this wretched-
ness on my left bond, is made to turn into all
this rich finery on my right.
"Well sir, and what's for you?"
These words were -spoken in the same
shrill voice which 'lead made the "fools'
pence" ring in his ears.
George Manly was still deep in thought,
and with the end of his rule, (for he was a
carpenter) he had been making a calculation,
drawing the figures in the little puddles of
gin, upon the counter. He looked up, and
saw Mrs. Crowder herself, as gay as the
daughters, with cap and coloured ribbands
flying ofl her head, and n pair of gold ear
rings, almost touching her plump shoulders.
"A pint of ale, ma'am, is what I am waiting
for to-night," (no more spirits, he thought
within himself, will I touch;) and then, as
he put down the money for the ale, he look
ed her calmly in the face :I I -aid, "There
are the "fools' pence," - last fools'
nence I intend to pay do .. :ay a long
iv: t
must have been strucK wan the 11Crtitioon
cleanliness of the apartment,and every thing
about it.
"This is indeed a treat, girls! to have
dear father home so soon to-night," said Su
san Manly, and she looked up at her hus
hand, as he stood before the table, turning
his eye first upon one and then upon anoth
er of the little party; then throwing himself
into hie large arm-chair, and lying back, and
smiling, he said—
" Well children ain't you glad to see me?
May not those busy little fingers stop a mo
mentjust while you jump up, and throw your
armsabout your father's neck and kiss him?"
"0 yes we have time for that," said one of
the girls, as they both sprang up to kiss their
father, "but we have no time to lose, dear
father," said Sally, pressing her cheek to
his, and speaking in a kind of coaxing whis
per close to his ear, "for these shirts are
the last of the dozen we have been making
for Mr. Farley, in the Corn Market."—
"And as no work can be done to-morrow,"
added Betsey, gravely, who stood with her
small hand in her father's "we are all work•
ing as haril as we can, for mother has pro
'
trused.to take them home on Monday after-
"Either your eyes are very weak to-night
dear-wife," said George, "or you have been
crying, Pm afraid you work too hard by
candle light."
Susan smiled,und said, "working does not
hart my eyes;" and as she spoke.she turn
ed her head and beckoned with her finger
to her little boy.
"Why John, what's this I seer said his
father,"what, you in the corner! Come out
as mother beckons for you. ' but come and
tell me what you have been doing."
"Nay,never mind it, dear husband; John
will be very good,l hope,and we had better
say no more about what is past."
"Yes,but I must know," said he, drawing
John close to him. "Come,tell me what has
been the matter." •
John was a plain spoken boy, and had a
straight forward way, of speaking the truth:
Ho came up to his father and looked full in
his face, and said, "The baker came for his
money tonight, and would not leave the
loaves without mother paid for them, and
though he was cross and rough to mother,
he said it was not her fault, , ind that he was
sure you had been drinking away all the
money; and when ho was gone,mother cried
over her work, but she did not say any
thing. I did not know she was crying till I
saw her tears fall, drop, drop, on her hand,
and then I said bad words, and mother sent
me to stand in the corner."
"And now,John,you may bring me some
coals," said Susan, " there's a fine lump in
the coal box."
• "But first tell me what your bad words
were, John," saik his father; "not swearing
I hope?"
"No!" said John, coloring, but speaking
as bluntly as before, "I said that you were a
bad man!, I said, bad father,"
" And they were bad words. I am sure,"
said Susan, very calmly, "but . you are for
given,and so you may get me the cords."
George looked at the face of his wife, and
as he met the tender gaze of her mild eyeli,
now Arrned to him, he felt the tears rise in
his, own. He rose up; and as he put the
money, into his wife's hand, he said, "There
are my week's wages, dear mother. Come,
conic, hold out both hands, for you have not
WY ROW:WV TIMMITE Iht/IDDLETON, PrinalCIEZR .4.111:5 rEtOPRIZTOR.
SlitinfelreaßWlBo aleittao tiqPl:Bo2)dalre atilltiKEt 9410 11005 a
got all yet. Well, new you have every far
thing, except a few pence, Jind they were
fools' pence ,
_ that I paid for a glass of ale
to-night. Keep tho whole, and layit out to
the best advantage,. as you always do. I
hope this will be a beginning of better doings
on my part and happier days on yours: and
now put on your bonnet and I'll walk with
you to pay the baker, and purchase a bushel
or two of coals, or whatever else we may be
in want of; and when we come back, I'll
read a chapter of the Bible to you and .the
girls, while you get on with the needle
work." •
Susan went up stairs, to put on her bonnet
and shawl, and she remained a little longer,
to kneel down on the spot where she had
knelt almost heart-broken, in prayer—pray.
ing that her Heavenly Father would turn
her husband's heart first tab . is Saviour, and
then to his wife and children: and that, in
the meantime, he would give her patience.
She knelt down this time to pour out her
heart in thanksgiving and praise. The
pleasant tones of her husband's voice called
her from her knees.
George Manly told his wife that evening,
after the children were gone to bed, that
when ho saw what the pence of the poor
could do towards keeping up a fine house,
and dressing out the landlord's wife and
daughters, and when he thought of his . own
hard-working, uncomplaining Susan, and his
children in wnnt,nnd almost rags—while he
was sitting and drinking, night after night,
more like a beast than a man: destroying
his own manly strength, and the fine health
God had given him, he was so struck with
sorrow and shame that he seemed to come
to himself at last. He made his determina
tion from that hour: and as he made it in
humble and watchful dependence upon Him
from whom "all holy desires, all good coun
sels, and all just works do proceed"—the
resolution that he made he kept.
It was more thane year after Mrs. Crow-
Ow. Punch Bowl, had first missed a
'l t
and don't stop for me—your beautiful dresses
will be quite spoilt; never mind me, for my
levantine is a French silk. and wont spot.
These words were screamed out as loud as
her haste would permit her, by Mrs. Crow
der, who was accompanying her daughters,
one Saturday evening, to tin tea-gardens.
She was answered by Miss Lucy, "you know
ma, we can't run, for our shoes are so tight."
"Theo turn into one of these houses,dears,"
said the mother, who was bustling forward
as fast as she could. "No indeed," replied
the other daughter, who found time to curl
her lip with disdain, notwithstanding her
haste and her distress, "I'll not set a foot in
such filthy hovels." "Well, dears, here is
a comfortable, tidy place," cried the mother
at length, as they hastened forward; "here
I'll enter, nor will I stir till the rain is over;
come in girls, come in." The rain was now
coming down in torrents, and the two young
ladies gladly followed their mother's exam
ple, and entered the neat and cleanly dwell
ing. Their long hair hung dangling about
their ears, their crape bonnets had been
screened in vain by their fringed parasols,
and the skirts of their silk gowns were drag
gled with mud. They all three began to
stamp upon the floor of the room into which
they had entered, with very little ceremony;
but the good natured mistress of the house I
felt more for their disaster than for her floor,
and came forward at once to console and
assist them. She brought forth clean clothes'
from the dresser-drawer, and she had her
two daughters set to work to wipe off, with
quick and delicate care, the rain drops and
mud splashes from the silken dresses of the
three fine ladies. , The crape bate and the
parasols were carefully dried at a safe dis
tance from the fire, and comb was offered to
arrange the uncurled hair, such a white and
delicately clean comb as may seldom be seen
upon a poor woman's toilet.
• When all had been done that could be
done,and Miss Lucy said, "they began to
look like themselves again," Mrs. Crowder
who was lolling back at her ease in a large
and comfortable arm chair, and amusing
herself by taking a goad stare at every
thing and-every one in the room, suddenly
started forward, and cried out, addressing
herself to the master of the house, upon
whose Bible and at whose face she had been
last fixing her stare, "Why, my good man,
we are old friends ; I know your face, I'm
certain, still there is some change in you,
though I can't exactb say what it is."
""I used to be in ragged clothes,and out o
health," said George Manly, smiling, as he
looked up from his Bible. "I am now, bless
ed be God for it, comfortably clad, and in
excellent health."
"But how is it," said Mrs. Crowder,"that
we never catch a sight of you now?" ,
" Madam," said he, "1 am sure I wish
well to you and all people; nay i l have rea
son to thank you, for wotds of yours were
the first means of opening my eyes to my
own foolish and sinful course. You seern to
thrive, so do We. My wife and children
were half naked and half-starved, only this
time last yeat. Look at thom,if you please,
now; for,so far as sweet contented looks go,
and decent raiment, befitting their station,
Pll match them with any man's wife and
children. And now, madam, I tell y0u, .0
you told a friend of yours,one day last year,
that 'tis the FooLs' PEro:E which have done
all this far us. -The Fools' Pence! I ought
Father to say the pence earned by honest
industry, lind spent in such a manner, that I
can ask the blessing of God upon the pence."
When .Mrs. Crowder and her daughters
were gone,George Manly sat without speak
ing for some considerable time. lie was
deep in thought, and his gentle, pious wife
felt that she knew on what subject he had
teen thinking so deeply; for when ho woke
t , from his fit of thought, a deep sigh stole
f:iom his lips, and he brushed away the tears
which had filled his eyes.
I t
TICE MIDNIGHT SHIES.
. The
whatmid a s
nigh t l. ern ok t ad
skies—the
e - u m r lit ii t e li , ght skies—'
Upon their brows eternal height;
And yet around them wreathed, there seems
A halo, brighter than the beams ,
* • 'Caught from tite smiles of life and light.
.4 ' . The midnight skies—.the midnight skies— •
. • Millions of ever Waking eyes
.. Look through their silent starry bowers,
. Watching . the wizard twin of death,
Sleep—thinly moringon the breath
, . Of mortals—in this sphere of ours.
The midnight skies—the midnight skies—
' In vain the unbeliever tries
To laugh their shadowy trail off;
For o'er his soul they cast a spell
• --.of God-head, so ineffable
As freezes on his lips the scoff.
The midnight skies—grand boundless deep—
.
Balls, where the watching angels keep
.• The passes of eternity.
Religicnes mysterious and sublime,
Stretched out upon the wings of time—
Dominions of a Deity !
Ve know that God is every where—
Beyond the eastern ocean, there
fie girds the morn with wings of light—
:lie spreads upon the sunny hour
The dark pavilion of his power, •
And then we say, Behold 'tis night!
But oh—'tie in the skies alone—
The skies of midnight, God halt shown
.Perspectives to the deathless Mind—
„Mansions, that alt the brew= of day
.Could never to the mind display
Afar iu distant Glory shrin'd.,
Extracts from the Life and treason of Benedict Arnold
by Jared Sparks.
MURDER OP MISS DIoCRE.A!
The murder of JANE M'CanA has been a
theme which eloquence and sensibility have
• • t
aneproduced a lively impression in every
part of America; and the glowing language
of Burke, in one of his most celebrated
speeches in the British Parliament, made
th'is+eteri.ofc--Jario-M'Creir, familiar to the•
European world.
This young lady was the daughter of a
clergyman who died in New Jersey before
the revolution. Upon her father's death she
sought a home in the house of her brother,
a respectable gentleman residing on the wes
tern bank of Hudson's river, about fbur miles
below Fort Edward. Here she formed an
intimacy with a young man named David
Jenes, to whom it was understood she was
engaged to be married. When the war
broke out, Jones took the side of the royal•
ists,went to Canada, received a commis3ion,
and was a captain or a lieutenant amengthe
provincials of Burgoyne's army. -
Fort Edward waS situate on the eastern
margin of Hudson's river,within a few yards
of the water, and surrounded by a plain of
considerable extent, which was cleared of
wood and cultivated. On the road leading
to the north, and near thalboiof the kill a
bout one third of a mile from the fort, stood
a house occupied by Mrs. McNeil, a widow
lady and an acquaintance of Miss M'Crea,
with whom she was staying as a visitet at
the time the American army was in that
neighborhood. The side of the hill wits
covered With a growth of bushes, and cm its
top, a quarter of a mile from the house,
stood a large pine tree, near the toot of
which gushed out a perennial spring of wa-
ter. A guard of one hundred men had been
left at the fort, and a picket under, Lieuten
ant Van Vetchen was stationed in the woods
on the hill a little beyond the pine tree:
Early one morning this picket guard was'
attacked by a party of Indians, rushing
through the woods from different points at
the same moment, and rending, the air with
hideous yells. Lieutenant Van Vechten
and five others were killed and scalped, and
four were wounded. Samuel Standish, one
of the guard, whose post was neat the pine
tree, discharged his musket at the first In
dian he saw, and ran down the hill towards
the fort; but he had no sooner reached the
plain, than three Indians, who had pursued
him to cut offhis retreat, darted out of the
bushes, fired, and wounded him in the foot.
One of them sprang upon him, threw him
to the ground, pinioned his arms, and then
pushed him , violently forward up the W—
ile • naturally made aq much haste as he
could, and in a short time they came to the
spring, where several Indians were assem
bled.
Here Standish was left to himself, at a lit
tle distance froth the spring and the pine
tree, expecting every moment to share the
fate of his comrades, whose scalps were con
spicuously displayed. A few minUtes only
had elapsed, when he saw a small party of
Indian s ascending the hill, and with them
Mrs. McNeil and Miss M'Crea on foot. He
knew them both, having often been at Mrs.
McNeil's house. The party had hardly
joined the other Indians, when he perceived
much agitation Among themi high words
and violent gestures, till at length they eti
gaged in a turieus quarrel, and beat one an
ot4pwrAwith their muskets. In the midst of
This fray; one of the chiefs, apparently in a
paroxyism of rage, shot Miss M'Crea in the
breast, She instantly fell and expired. Her
hair_ was long and flowing.. Tha seine chief
grasped it in his hand, seized his knife,. and
took o ff the scalp in such a manner as to in.
elude nearly .the whole of the hair, then
springing from the ground, he tossed it in
the face of a young warrior,-who stood near
him watching the operation, brandishing it
in the air, and uttered a yell of savage exul
tation. When . this was done, the quarrel
ceased; arid as the fort had already been a ,
larmed, the Indians hurried away as quick
ly as possible to Geri. Fraser's encampment
on the road to Fort Anne, taking with them
51rs. McNeil and Samuel Standish.
The bodies of the slain were . found by a
party that went in pursuit, and were carried
across the river. They had been stripped
of their clothing, and the body of Miss
Crea was wounded in nine places, either by
scalping or a tomahawk.. A message was
despached to convey the afflicting intelli
gence to her brother, who at rived soon af
terwards, took charge of his sister's re
mains, 'and had .them interred on the east
side of the river about three miles below the
fort. The body of Liedt. Vechten was bu
ried at the same time and on the samo spot.
History has preserved no facts by which I
we can at this day ascertain the reason,why
Miss M'Crea should remain as she did in so
expoSed and unprotected. a situation. She
had been reminded of her danger - by the •
people at the fort. Tradition relates, how
ever, and with seeming truth; that through
some 'medium of communication she had
promised her lover, probably by hi's advice,
to remain in this place,'until the approach of
the British troops should, afford her - an op
portunity to join him, in company with her
hostess and friend. It is said, that, when
they saw the Indians coming to the house,
they were at first trightend and attempted to
escape: hut, as the Indians made signs. of a
pacific intention, and one of them held up a
Me: intimating - that - it was to be opened,
their fears were calmed and the letter was
read. It was from Tones, and contained a re
quest that they would put themselves under
• 'ha eh^ rfTe of the - Indians,whoin• he hod sent
e, and who would guard them
Brttish camp. Unfortunate
. • •• • !.: e parties of Indiahs, or at least
s.- .• .ing independently of each otiv
,1.1 in this enterprize, combining
• • Ack of the picket guard. It is
''.at Jones should have known
this part of the arrangement, or he would
have foreseen the danger it threatened.
When the prize was in their hands the
tWo.4iiefs quarrelled about the mode c;l•
viding the reward they were to receive:
and, according to the Indian rule of settling
disputes in the case of captives, one of them
in a • fit of passion killed the victim and
red the scalp. Nor is it the least shock
ingfeature of the transaction, that the sav
age seemed not aware of the nature of his
mission. Uninformed as to the motive of
his employer for obtaining the person of the
lady, or not comprehending it, he regarded
her in the light of a ,prisoner, and suppoied
the scalp would he an acceptable trophy.—
Let it be imagined what were the. feelings
of the anxious lover, waiting joyful anticipa-
tion the arrival of his intended bride, when
this appalling proof of her death was pre
sented to him. The innocent had suffered
by the hand of cruelty and violence, which
he had unconsciously armed; his most fond
ly cherished hopes were blasted, and a sting
was planted in his soul, which time and for
getfulness"couldliever. eradicate. His spir
it was scathed and his heart broken. He
lived but a few years, a prey td'his sad re
collections, and sank into the grave under
the burders of his grief.
The ternembrance cif this Melancholy tale
is Cherished with a lively sympathy by the
people who dwell near the scene of its prin
cipal incidents. The inhabitants of the
village of Port Edwatd have lately tenet , -
ed the remains of Miss M'Crea from their
obscure resting place, and deposited them in
the public burial ground. The ceremony
was solemn and impressive. A procession
of Sroting men and maidens followed the re.
lice, and wept in silence when the earth was
again closed over them, thus exhibiting an
honorable proof of sensibility and respect for
the dead. The little fountain still pours out
its clear waters near the brow of the hill,
and the venerable pine is yet standing in its
ancient majesty, broken at the top and shorn
of its branches by the winds and storms of
half a century, but revered as marking the
spot where youth and innocence were sacri
ficed in the tragical death ofJarvE McCune.
For the Gettysburg Star and Republican Banner.
A PARODY.
SO trilD the loud Timbre!,' ye patriots that be,
GEO, Wow has triumph'd! liiswaraiest friends flee!
Sing, fur the power of his "faction" is broken:
Jackson, Van Buren, Benton & Co.
flow vain was their boasting, the "Wolf" hath but
spoken/
And the pride of their "faction" lies humble and low!
Then sound the loud timbrel,ye patriots that bei
Itrnign will Triumph! the People be Free!
Praise to their Delegates, to their bargain and sale,
Their "party's'iyrostration, we joyfully hail!
Who shall narrate to Van. Duren the story
Of those he roign'd o'cr, in the hour of his pride;
For the Wolf bath look'd out from the pride of his
glory;
And all his proud faction are dash'd in the tide
Then sound the loud timirel,ye patriots that be,
WINES 'WILL Triumph! the People be Free!
York Springs, Match 11,1895. O.
SONS OF OLIVER CROMWELL.
Richard Cromwell, the eldest son of Oli
vet Cromwell, was a. man of excallent die•
positon, and remarkable for his gravity and
unaffected piety. He is said to have plead:
ed on his knees before his inflexible father
for the lice of King Charles the First. He
WHOLE NO•
succeeded to the Protectership,,Snd.tobtx
rofused the advice given to biz by aron*of
his Council to retain his power pt the trZt
pense of blood. He retired to 'France for
some years, and returned to England afters
the restoration, when party animosities hark,
subsided.
When . nearly eighty years ofagei he tient
to the bar of the House of Lords. Then'
Lord Bathurst r oniorsed with hire,nad.risk4
ed him how long it was hind! he had beer(
there before.
"Never, my Lord i " said he, "since I sat
in that chair," pointing to the throne.
.110 spent many °lbis last yeats in obeca =
fit) , at Ches'Aunt. He gave a striking and%
laudable proof how much retirement and,
peace are to, he preferred to the splendoi ---
and pomp of power. He enjoyed sound
health to the last, and was so strong and tie.:
tive that at the age of fourscore he was seen
to gallop his horse for many miles togethers
He died in 1712, in his 80th years
Henry Cromwell, the voungest goti or
Oliver Cromwell, like has brother Richardi
wag a man of an excellent character, well
disposed, and unambitiouo. tie was °ppm
ted by his father Lord Lieutenant of frog
land, and acquitted himself in that govern.
mont with great credit. He rejoiced in the
restoration, and received sorr.e favors from
Charles the Second, for which he was in
debted to Loid Clarendoh. He declared to
his brother Richard:
"I will rather submit to any suffering
with a good name, than be the greatest man
upon earth, without one!"
What a virtuous declaration! s4hatti just
nrui NPVerf• t+-t .
rtl I
~'i.:' t : .. .. - ~ 1::.
..s;;! ;1)
; )( -I, : if o f it ,r, .r..!n1).!:;,11C0,1ti3t1
I au .iTr. iiiive sent a petition
to the Massachusetts House of ,Delegates,
having upwards 01.2.500 lady signatures, itv
which it is declared, in Substance, as their
firm belief that drinking ardent spirits is no
longer a proper accomplishment, for their
husbands, fathers, brothers, or lovers. The'
House hod orchtied the petition to be prin.
ted together with the mimes attached: rer
that, as the Boston Advocate observes-1W
yoliiigt men will now have *list of.the Teri
persece girls of Lowell and will keen , where
to Itad genuine temperance wives.
wry
lIAT DOES A TRiAT corn—On SAW&
day, after dovernor Wolf was nominated,
Judge Lewis rose and stated that he Waif
authorised to invite' the members of the
Convention, and other friends who were
spectators, to call at the Governor's mop'
and take a glass of wine with the Governort
This is a new method of signifying an ac
ceptance of a nomination—very much like
treating ajOry after a verdict.—Thir. Intl
As an evidence of the perfection.to which
reporting and printing has been brought, - in
London the proceedings at Guildhall, nom ,
hutting candidates for parliament, and occu ,
pying eight columns, were published in the ,
Sun newspaper within an hour arid a half or
their occurrence
FIRE AND Loss of Lift.—We leant
from the - Albany gverring Journal, that the
dwelling house of - Mr.- John — Griffie,- pir -
Westerloo, (N. Y.) was destroyed irt fire
during the nrght of the 4th inst, and. that
one of his daughters and another Ming girl,
perished in the flames! The daughter aged
11, and two young women named Carle,
were asleep in an upper room when the a
larm was given. One of the Misses Carte
threw herself from the window and escaped
with a dislocation of the ankle; the other
two remained in the chamber and perished,
The other members of the family, loflging
oil the first floor, made their &cape-
DISGRACEPUL.—Turring and Feather.
ing a Female.—A correspondent &James.
villa writes us as follows: "A most disgrace•
ful circumstances recently occurred at Or.
villa, Conondaga county, N. Y. _About 20
persons assembled at the house ofMrs. Ty.
ler, (whose husband is in the State prison,)
between 8 and 9 o'clock in the evsmiaiti
broke open the door, entered her bed-room,
gagged and took her off abOut a mile and a
half to a barn, stripped her and then tarred
and feathered her ell over. She was found
in this state in the barn, on the following
morning, and assisted to retura to her dwell.
ing. It is said that the cause at such. dis.
graceful proceedings was the fact that Mrs.
Tyler's fame was considered doiibiful in the
neighborhood. Most of the offenders are
bound over in $l5OO each to appear and
answer."
lionain.—By accounts from Caunpoier,
we learn that the sales of C9dren hate WI
come very extensive in , upper India, and
hundreds bate been eaten by their sloth%
parents!
,
Mrs. mirk of the Old Ship inn, Rothara
ham, provided for her Sheffield friends, at
Christmas Pie, which when taken to, the
oven weighed upwards of seventeen, stone,
or 238 lb.s.; it Consisted ofone rump otheer,
two legs of veal, two legs of pork,- throe •
hares, six rabbits, three geese. four p - how
ants, eight partridges, two turkimfour
upwards clone 100 pounds , of best Bout:
The Countess of Blessington is, writitits
_
memoir of the - Duehess tits Berri. Votes
inditing the story of Catypso!-:-N. Sikh
14. •
of Lnt•';'ll