Sititt+ .$ ...:.: , ,,ft.-... - tisotittt4tit- ISit*lttv* VOL. 6-. NO. 14.1 Office of the Star & Banner: Chambersburg Street, a few doors West of the Court-House. CONDITIONS : I. The STAR & REPUBLICAN BANNER ill_published weekly, at Two DOLLARS per annum, (or Volume of 52 Numbers,) payable half yearly in advance. 11. No subscription will be received for a shorter period than six.months, nor will the paper be discon tinued until all arrcarages are paid, unless at the dis cretion of the editor—A failure to notify a discontinu ance will be considered a new engagement, and the pa,ier forwarded accordingly. 111. Ade ertisena.mts not exceeding a square, will be,inserteit THREE times for ONE nnt.LA a, and 25 cents for every subsequent insertion—longer ones in the same pet - portion. The number of insertions to be marked, or they will be published till forbid mill char ged accordingly. IV. Co niniiiiications, &e.. by mail, must be post paid—otherwise they will not meet with attention. E GARLAND. -4' With sweetest flowers cnrich'd, From various gardens cull'd with care." }•RObl TtlR KTTVEDURG WREATH NAPOLEON. Why died he not in battle strife? Why Ir. not his glorious life, In that last field with ruin rife, Where sunk his star of Victory? Upon the wrecks of ruin'd thrones, 'Mid framic yells and piercing groans, 'Mid vengelul shouts and dying moans, And shrieks of mortal agony. Thou slionldst have sunk, Napoleon! As when thy archetype, the Sun, In darkness, clouds and storms goes down In terrible sublimity. Thou mighest, beneath the bloody mound Of slaughteed heroes piled around, Thy last, thy chosen best—have found A dread but fitting sepulchre. Such tomb bad well became thy lame— The cannon for thy requiem— Thy shroud, the battle's smoke and flame, Thou froward child of Destiny! S. AN AMUSING TREAT. v.] JA PH ET, IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. KTCONTINUED FROM OUIL LAST. In about the time he mentioned, a dark, gipsy•looking man looked into the wagon, and spoke to our acquaintance in an unknown language. He replied in the same, and the man disappeared. We continued our route for about a quarter of an hour, when he got out, asked us to follow him, and speaking a 11 , w words to the fool, which I did not hear, left him and the boy in the wagon. We paid our fare, took possession of our bundles, and followed our. new companion for afew minutes , on the cross road, when he stopped, and said, "I must now leave you, to prepare for your reception into our fraternity; con tinue straight on thib road until you arrive at it lime-kiln, and wait there till I come." He sprang over n stile, and took a direc tion verging at an angle from the road, forc ed his way through a hedge, and disappear ed from our sight. "Upon my word, Timo thy," said I, "I hardly know what to say to this. Have we done right in trusting to this man, who I am afraid is a great rogue? I do not much like mixing with these gipsy people, fOr such I am sure he belongs to." "I really do not see how we can do better," replied Timothy. "The world is all before us, and we must force our own way through it. As for his being a quack doctor, I see no great harm in that. People put their faith in nostrun.s more than they do in regu lar medicines; and it is well known that quack medicines, as they call them, cure us often as others merely for that very reason." "Very true, Timothy; the mind once at ease, the body soon recovers, and faith, even in quack medicines, will often make people whole; but do you think that he does no more than impose upon people in that way?" "He may, or he may not; at all events, we need do no more, I suppose?" "I um not sure of that; however, we shall Pee. He says we may be useful to him, and I suppose we shall be, or he would not have engaged us—we shall soon find out." By this time we had arrived at the lime. kiln to which we had been directed, and we sat down on our bundles, chatting, for about Eve minutes, when our new acquaintance made his appearance, with something in his hand, tied up in a handkerchief. "You may as well put your coats into your bundles, and put on these frocks," said he; "you will appear better among us, and be better received, for there is a gathering now, and some of them are queer customers. Howt.ver, you have nothing to fear; when once you are with my wife and me, you are quite safe; her little finger would protect you from five hundred," "Your wife! who', then, is she?" enquired 1, as I put my herd through the smock frock. "She is a great personage among the gip sies. She is, by descent, one of the heads of the tribe, and none dare to disobey her." "And you—are you a gipsyr "No, and yes. By birth I am not, but by choice, and marriage, I am admitted; but I was not born under a hedge, I can as sure you, although I very (Alen pass a night there now—that is, when I am domestic; but do nut think that you are to remain long here; we shall leave in a few days, and may not meet the tribe again for months, thaugh you may see my own family occa sionally. 1 did not ask you to join me to pass a gipsy's life—no, no, we must be stir nag and active. Come, we are now close to them. Do not speak as you pass the huts, until you have entered mine. Then you may do as you please." We turned short round, passed through a gap in the hedge, and found ourselves on a small retired piece of common, which was studded with about twenty or thirty low gip sy huts. The fires wore alight, and ptovi alone apparently cooking. We passed by nine or ten, and obeyed our guide's injunc tions, to keep silence. At last we stopped, and perceived ourselves to be standing by the fool, who was dressed like us, in a smock frock, and Mr. Jumbo, who was very busy makirig the pot boil, blowing at the sticks underneath till lie was black in the face. Several of the men passed near us, and ex• mined us with no very pleasant expression of countenance; and we were not sorry to see our conductor, who had gone into the hut, return, followed by a woman, to whom he wa,; speaking in the language ufthe tribe. "Nanee Inds you welcome," said he, as she a imroac oaf Never in my life will the remembrance of the first appearance of Nattee, and the effect it had, be erased from my memory. She was tall; too tall, had it not been for the perfect symmetry of her form. Her face of a clear olive, and oval in shape; her eyes jetty black; nose straight, and beautifully chiseled; mouth small, thin lips, with a , light curl of disdain, and pearly teeth. I never beheld a woman of so commanding a presence. Her feet were bare, hum very small, as well as her hands. On her fingers she wore many rings, of a curious old sett• ing, and a piece of gold hung on her tine head, where the hair was parted. She looked at us, touched her high forehead with the ends of her fingers, and waving her hand gracefully, said, in a soft voice, "You are welcome," and then turned to, her has. baud, speaking to him in her own language, until by degmees they separated from us in earnest conversation. She returned to us after a short time, without her husdand, and said, in a voice, the notes of which were indeed soft, hut the delivery of the words was most determined ; "I have said that you are welcome; sit down, therefore, and share with us—fear nothing, you have no cause to fear. Be faithful, then, while you serve him, and when you would quit us, say so, and receive your leave to de part; but if you attempt to desert us without permission, then we shall suspect that you are our enemies, and treat you ace nrdingly. There is your lodging while here," contin ued she, pointing to another hut. "There is but one child with you, this, (pointing to Jumbo,) who can lay at your feet. And now loin us as friends. Fleta, where are you A soft voice answered from the tent of Nattee, and soon afterwards came out a lit tle girl, of abbut eleven years old. The ap pearance of this child was a new source of interest. She was a little fairy figure, with a skin as white as the driven snow—light auburn hair, and large blue eyes; her dress was scanty, and showed a large portion of her toper legs. She hastened to Nattee, and folding her arms across her breast, stood still, saying meekly, "I am here." "Know these as friends, Fleta. Send that lazy Num (this was Phibuns, the thol) for more wood, and see that Jumbo tends the tire." Nattee smiled, and left us. I observed she went to where forty or fifty of the tribe were assembled, in earnest discourse. She took her sent with them, and marked de ference was paid to her. In the mean time Jumbo had blown up a brisk fire; we were employed by Pieta, in shredding vegetables, which she threw into the boiling kettle.-- Num appeared witl• more fuel, and at last there was nothing more to do. Fleta sat down by us, and parting her long hair which had fallen over her eyes, looked us both in the face. "Who gave you that name, Flew?" en quired 1. "They gave it me," replied she. "And who are they?" "Nattee, and Melchior, her husband." "But you are not their daughter ?" "No, I am not—that is—l believe nnt." The little girl stopped short, as if assured that she had said too much, cast her eyes down on the ground, and folded her arms, so that her hands rested on each opposite shoulders. • Timothy whispered to me, "She must have been stolen, depend upon it." "Silence," said 1. The little girl overheard him, and look. ing at him, put her finger across her mouth, looking to where Num and Jumbo were sit ting. felt an interest for this child before I had been an hour in her company ; .she was so graceful, so beautifully feminine, so mournful in the expression of her counte nance. That she was under restraint was evident; but still she did not appear to be actuated by fear. Nattee was very kind to her, and the child did not seem to be more reserved towards her than to others; her mournful, pensive look, was perhaps inher ent to her nature. It was not until long af ter our first acquaintance that I ever saw a smile upon her features. Shortly after this little conversation, Nattee Teturned, walk. in g with all the 'grace and dignity of a queen. Her husband, or Melchior, as I shall for, the present call him, soon joined us, and we sat down to our' repast, which was excellent. It was composed of almost eve. ry thing; somet:thes I found myself busy with the wing of a fowl, at another the leg of a rabbit—then a piece of mutton, and oth. er flesh and fowl, which I could hardly dis- tinguish. To these were added every sort of vegetable, in which potatoes predomin ated, forming a sort of stew, which an epi cure might have praised. I had a long conversation with Melchior in the evening, and, not to weary khe reader, I shall now proceed to state all that I then and subse quently' gathered from him and others, rela tive to the parties with whom we were asso ciating. ET ROBERT WHITE MIDDLETON', EDITOR, PtrBLIEIZER AND PROPRIETOR. "I WISH NO OTHER HERALD, NO OTHER SPEAKER OF MY LIVING Acripris, TO KEEP MINE HONOR FROM CORRUPTION."—SHAHS. aaiwunrazawzall 9 aka.. cataom.azr. utr,zar ana. Melchior would not state who and what he waq previous to his having joined the fraternity of gipsies ; that he was not of humble birth, and that he had, when young, quitted his friends out of love for Nattee, or from some other causes not to be revealed, he also acknowledged. Ho had been many years in company with the tribe, and al though, as ono received into it, he did not stand so high in rank and estimation as his wife, still, from his marriage with Nattee and his own peculiar qualifications and dex terity, he was almost as absolute as she was. Melchior nod Nattee wore supposed to be the most wealthy of all the gipsies, and, at the seine time, they were the most liberal of their wealth. Melchior, it appeared, gained money in three different characters; as a quack doctor, the character in which we first saw him; secondly, as a juggler, in which art he was most expert ; and, thirdly, as a fortune teller, and wise man. Nance, as I before mentioned, was of very high rank, or cas.e, in her tribe. At her first espousal of Melchior she lost much of her influence, as it was considered a degra dution; but she was then very young, and must have been most beautiful. The tal ents of Melchior, and her own spirit, how ever, soon enabled her to regain, and even add still more to, her power and considera tion among the tribe, and it was incredible to what extent, with the means which she possessed, this power was augmented. Melchior had no children by his marri age, and, as far as I could judge from the few words which would escape from the lips of Nattee, she did not wish for any, as the race would not be considered pure. The subdivision of the tribe which followed Nat tee, consisted of about forty men, women, and children. These were ruled by her during the absence of her husband, who al ternately assumed different characters, as suited his purpose; but in whatever town Melchior might happen to be, Nattee and her tribe were never far off, and always en camped within communication. I ventured to question Melchior about the little Fleta ; and he stated that she was the child of a soldier's wife, who had been brought to bed, and died a few hours after wards; that, at the time, she was on her way to join her husband, and had been taken ill on we road--had been assisted by Nat. tee and her companions, us far as they were able—had been buried by them, and that the child had been reared in the camp. In time the little girl became very inti mate, and very partial to me. I questioned her as to her birch, telling her what Mel chior had stated; for along while she would not answer; the p.lor child had learn ed caution even at that early age ; but after we were more intimate, she said, that which Melchior had stated was not true. She could recollect very well living in a great house, with every thing very fine about her; but_atill it appeared as if it were a dream. She' recollected two white ponies—and a la dy, who was her mamma—and a mulberry tree, where she stained her frock; some times other things came to her memory, and then she forgot them again. From this it was evident that she had been stolen, and was probably of good parentage; cer tainly if elegance and symmetry of person and form could prove blood, it never was more marked than in this interesting child. Her abode with the gipsies, and their pecu liar mode of life and manners, had render ed her peculiarly precocious in Intellect; but of education she had none, except what was instilled into her by Melchior, whom she always accompanied when he assumed his character as a juggler. She then dan ced on the slack-wire, at the same time performing several feats in balancing, throw ing of oranges, &c. When Melchior was under other disguises she remained in the camp with Nattee. Of Num, or Philotas, as Melchior thought proper to call him, I have already spoken. He was a hall-witted idiot, picked up in one of Melchioi's excursions, and, as he stated to me, so did it prove to be the fact, that when on the stage, and questioned as a fool, his natural folly, and idtotical . vacancy of countenance, were applauded by the specta tors as admirably assumed. Even at the alehouses and taverns 'where we stopped, every one imagined that all his folly was pretence, and looked upon him as a very clever fellow. There never was, perhaps, such a lachrymose countenance as this poor lad's, and this added still more to the mirth of others, being also considered as put on for the occasion. Stephen Kemble played Falstaff without stuffing—Num played the fool without any effort or preparation.— Jumbo was also "picked up;" this was . not done by Melchior, who stated, that any bo dy might have him who claimed him; he tumbled with the fool upon the stage, and he also ate pudding to amuse the spectators— the only part of the performance which was suited to Jumbo's taste, for he was a terri ble little glutton, and never kit any oppor tunity of eating, as well as of sleeping. And now, having described all our new companions, i f' must narrate what passed' between Melchior and me, the day after our joining the camp. He first ran through his various professions, pointing out to me that as juggler he required a confederate, in which capacity I might be very useful, as he would soon instruct me in all his tricks. As a quack doctor he wanted the services of both Tim and myself in mixing up, ma king pills, &c., and also in assisting him in persuading the public of his great skill.— As,a fortune-teller, I should also be of great service, as he would explain to me hereafter. In short, he wanted a person of good per sonal appearance and education, in whom he might confide in every, way. As to Tim, he might be made useful, if ho chose, in various ways; amongst others, he wished him to learn tumbling and playing tho fool, when, at times, the fool was required to give a shrewd answer on any point on which ho would wish the public to be made acquaint ed. I agreed to my own part of the perfor mance, and then had some conversation with Timothy, who immediate'y consented to do his lies! in what wag allotted as his share. Thus was the matter quickly arranged, Niel chior observing. that lie had said nothing about . reinuneration, as l should fi nd that trusting to him was far prekrable to stipu lated wages. We had been three days in the camp when the gathering was broken up, each gang taking their own way. What the meeting was about I could not exactly dis cover ; one occasion of it was, to make ar rangements relative to the different coun ties in which the subdivisions were to sojourn during the next year, so that they might know where to communicate with each oth er, and at the same time not interfere by being too near; but there were many other points discussed, of which, as a stranger, I was kept in ignorance. Melchor answer ed all my questions with apparent candour, but his habitual deceit was such, that whe ther he told the truth or not was impossible to be ascertained by his countenance.— When the gathering dispersed we packed up, and located ourselves about two miles from the common, on the borders of a forest of oak and ash. Our food was chiefly game, for we had some excellent poachers among us; and as for fish, it appeared to be at their command ; there was not a pond or a pit but they could tell in a moment if it was tenant ed—and if tenanted, in half an hour every fish would be floating on the top of the wa ter, by the throwing in of some intoxicating sort of berry; other articles of food occa sionally were found in the caldron; indeed, it was impossible to fare better than we did, or at less expense. Our tents were gener ally pitched not farfrom a pool of water; and, to avoid any unpleasant search which sometimes would take place, every thing liable to detection was sunk under the water until it was required for cooking; once in the pot, it was considered as safe. But with the foraging, Timothy and I had nothing , to do; we participated in the eating, without asking any questions as to how it was pro cured. My time was chiefly spent in com pany with Melchior, who initiated me into all the mysteries of cups and balls—juggling of every description—feats with cards, and made me acquainted with all his apparatus for prepared tricks. For hours and hours was I employed by his directions in what is called "making the pass" with a pack of cards, as almost all tricks on cards depend upon your dexterity in this manceuvre. In "about a month I was considered as a very fair adept; in the mean time, Timothy had to undergo his career of gymnastics, and was to be seen all day tumbling and tetumbling, until he could tumble on his feet again. Light and active, he soon became a very dexterous performer, and could throw a soin erset either backwards or forwards, walk on his hands, eat fire, pull out ribbons, and do fifty other tricks to amuse a gaping au dience. Jumbo also was worked hard, to bring down his fat, and never was allowed his dinner until he had given satisfitction to Melchior. Even little Fleta had to practise occasionally, as we were preparing for an expedition. Melchior, who appeared deter mined to create an effect, left us for three days, and returned with not only dresses for Timothy and me. but also new dresses for the rest of the company; and shortly after wards, bidding farewell to Nattee and the rest of the gipsies, we all set out—that is, Melchior, I, Timothy, Fleta, Num, and Jumbo. Late in the evening we arrived at the little town of—,and took up our quar ters at a public-house, with the landlord of which Melchior bad already made arrange ments. "Well, Timothy," said I, as soon as we were in bed, "how do you like our new life and prospects?" "I like it better than Mr. Cophagus's ru dimans, and carrying out physic, at all events. But how does your dignity like turning Merry Andrew, Japhet?" "To tell you the truth, I do not dislike it. There is a wildness and a devil-may•care feeling connected with it which is grateful to me at present. How long it may last I cannot tell ; but for a year or two, it appears to me that we may be very happy. At all events, we shall see the world, and have more than one profession to fall back upon." •"fhat is true; but there is one thing which annoys me, Japhet, which is, we may have difficulty in leaving these people when we wish. Besides, you forget that you are losing sight of the principal object you had in view, that is, of 'finding out your father.' "I certainly never expect to find him a mong the gipsies," replied I, "for children are at a premium with them. They steal from others, and are not very likely there fore to leave them at the Foundling. But I do not know whether I have not as good a chance in our present employment as in any other. I have often been thinking that, as fortune-tellers, we may get hold of many strange secrets; however, we shall see. Melchior says that he intends to appear in that character as soon as he has made a harvest in his present." "What do you think of Melchior, now that you have been so much with him?" "I think him an unprincipled man, but still with many good qualities. He appears to have a pleasure in deceit, and to have waged war - with the world in general. Still ho is generous, and, to a 'certain degree, confiding; king.in his disposition, and appa rently a very- gond husband. There is something on his mind which weighs him down occasionally, and checks him to the height of his mirth. It comes over him like a dark cloud over a bright summer sun, and ho is all gloom for a few minutes. I do nct think that he would now commit any groat crime; but I have a suspicion that he has done something which is a constant cause of remorse." "You are a very good judge of character, Japhet. But what a dear little child is that Fleta ! She may exclann with you— Who is my father 7" "Yes, we are both in much the same pre dicament, and that it is which 1 believe has so much increased my attachment to her. We are brother and sister in misfortune, and a sister she ever shall be W. me, if such is the will of Heaven. But we mist riso early to-morrow, Tim; so good night." "Yes, to-morrow it will be juggler and tumble—eat fire—urn —and so on, as Cophagus would have said; so good night, Japhet." The next morning we arrayed ourselves in our new habiliments; mine were silk stockings, shoes, and white kerseymere knee breeches, a blue silk waistcoat loaded with tinsel, and a short jacket to corres• pond of blue velvet, a sash round my waist, a hat and a plume of'feathers. Timothy declared looked very handsome, and, as the glass said the same as plain as it could speak, I believed him. Timothy's dress was a pair of wide Turkish trowsers, and red jacket with spangles. The others were much the same. Fleta was attired in small, white satin, Turkish trowsers, blue muslin and silver embroidered frock, worked san. dais, and her hair braided and plaited in long tails behind, and she looked like a lit tle sylph. Melchior's dress was precisely the same as mine, and a mare respectable company was seldom seen. Some musi cians had been hired, and handbills were now circulated all over the town, stating that Mr. Eugenio Velotte, with his compa ny, would have the honour of performing before the nobility and gentry. The bill contained the fare which was to be provided, and intimated the hour of the performance, and the prices to be paid for the seats. The performance was to take place in a very large room attached to the inn, which, pre vious to the decadence of the town, had been used as an assembly-room. A platform was erected on the outside, on which were pine ed the musicians, and where we all occasion ally made our appearance, in our splendid dresses, to attract the wonder of the people. There we strutted up and down, all but poor little Fleta, who appeared to shrink at the display from intuitiVe modesty. When the music ceased, a smart parley between Mel chior and me,. and Philotas and Timothy, as the two fools, would take place; and Melchior declared, after the performance was over, that we conducted ourselves to ad mi ration. "Pray, Mr. Phitotes, do me the favour to tell me how many people you think are now present ?" said Melchior to Num, in an im. perative voice. "I don't know," said Num, looking up with his idiotical, melancholy face. ‘-‘l-1a! ha ha 1" roared the crowd a Num's stupid answer. "The fellow's a fool l" said Melchior to the gaping audiance. "Well, then, if he can't tell, perhaps you may, Mr. Dionysius," said I, addressing Tim. "Flow many sir ? Do you want to know exactly and directly ?" "Yes, sir, immediately." "Without counting, sir ?" "Yes, sir, without counting." "Well, then, sir, I will tell, and make no mistake ; there's exactly as many again as half." "Ha! ha! ha 1" from the crowd. "That won't do, sit. How many may be the half?" "How many may be the half? Do you know yourself, sir ?" "Yes, sir, to be sure I do." "Then there's no occasion for me to tell "Ha! ha! ha !" "Well, then, sir," continued Melchior to Philotus, "perhaps you'll tell how many la dies and gentlemen we may expect to honor us with their company to-night." "Flow many, sir?" "Yes, sir, how many." "I'm sure I don't know," said Num, alter a pause." "Positively you are the greatest fool I ever met with," said Melchior. • "Well, he does act the fool as natural as life," observed tho crowd. "What a stupid face he does put on!" "Perhaps you will be able to answer that question, M r. Dionysius," said I to Tim. "Yes, sir, I know exactly." "Well, sir, let's hear." "In the . first place, all the pretty women will come, and all the ugly ones stay away; and as for the men, all those who have got any money will be certain to come; those who hav'n't, poor devils, must stay outside " ".suppose, sir, you make a bow to the la dies." "A vory low one, air?" "Yes, very low indeed." Tim bent his-body to the ground, and threw a somerset forward. "There, sir, I [WHOLE NO. 274. bowed so low that I came up on theother side." "Ha! ha! capital!" from the crowd.' "I'Ne got a round turn in my back, sir," continued Tim, rubbing himself. "Hadn't I better take it out again?' "By all means." Tim threw a somerset backwardv.—' "There, sir, all's right now. Ono good turn deserves another. Now I'll he off." "Where are you going to sirr "Going, sir! Why, I len my lollipop in' the tinder-box, and I'm going to fetch it." "Ile! ha! ha!" "Striking up, music!" and 'Master Jumbii commenced tumbling. „ Such , was the elegant wit with which we amused and attracted the audience. Per haps, had we been more refined, we should not have been so successful. That evening we had the room as full as it could hold. Mr. Velotte, alias Melchior, astonished them. The cards appeared to obey his commands—rings were discovered in ladle's shoe.4.—watehes were powdered and made whole—canary birds flew out of eggs. The audience were delighted. r The entertainment closed with Fleta's perform ance on the slack wire; and certainly never was there any thing more beautiful and graceful. Balanced on the wire in a con. tmual, waving motion, her oyes fixed upon a point to enable her to maintain her psi• lion, she performed several feats—snch as the playing with five oranges, balancing swords, &c. Her extreme beauty--her very picturesque. and becoming dress—her mournful expression and downcast eyes—her gentle manner, appeared to win the hearts of the audience; and when she was assisted off from her perilous situation by Melchior and me, and made her graceful courtesy, the plaudits were unanimous. When the company dispersed . I went to her, intending to praise her, but I found her in tears. "What is the matter, my dear Fletar "0 nothing! don't say I have been crying. --but I cannot bear it—so many people look ing at me. Don't say a word to Melchior —I won't cry any more." I kissed and consoled her; she threw her arms round my neck, and remained there with her face hid for some time. We then joined the others at supper. Melchinr,much pleased with our success, and highly prais ing the conduct of Timothy and myself, which he pronounced was, for the first at tempt, far beyond his expeatations. [TO BE CONTWOZIM] STANZAS. A project is on foot in Boston for the erec tion of a Church in that City on an exten sive scale, wherein all important questions, whether of a moral, political, or religious nature, may he !idly and fairly discussed, without let or hindrance.—Fall River Rec. NEW FASHIONED PRINTING OFFICE.-- During a late visit- to the southern part of this State,we saw a curiosity which we think worth telling of "in print." It was a sub stitute for a printing office. Rut before we describe it, we will give its history. Some time ago. a gentleman named Rogers, resi ding in Madison county, met in Manchester, with a fugitive slave of his brother's, and immediately arrested him, when, much to' his surprise, the negro produced a free pass. Mr. R. examined it, and found -that it was printed throughout, names,dates, signatures and all. Of course this was sufficient proof of its being a forgery; but how the negro had obtained it, remained a mystery, as he would give no information on the subject. Several months after this circumstance took place, in passing through a cane brake, his , attention was attractedby a rollof blankets, lying on the ground, which induced him to make a more careful examination of the promises,when he discovered a tie box filled with types, and in a cavity cut in the root of a tree, the typos (or, in technical language, the form,) on which the pass had been prin ted. Thus without press or case, stick or galley, had this "gentleman of color" set up a printinc , establishment in a cane brake, which, being located nearer to this office than is any other in the State, might have proved a dangerous Bulletin. THE ARNE WORM.—Some of the West ern papers are loud in their complaints of the ravages of a destructive worm, called the Army Worm. It is particularly injuri ous to rye fields and meadows; according to the Maysville Engle, which states that a grass lot, contiguous to the road, near that town, has been completely stripped of leaves, by these voracious and destructive foragers. A correspondent of the Cincinnati Gazette, dating from Anderson township, mentions that the Army Worm has made its appear. ance in that neighborhood to an alarming degree. He mentions a meadow of eight acres, belonging to himself, that has literal ly been devoured by them, and they were on the march in quest of other subsiistence.— Great fears were entertained among the far mers, as to the probable extent of the rave- gee of this worm. When first discovered, it is said to be about an inch in leisgtliorather slender, of a dark brown, (varying to blink) with white streaks on the side—the head of an amber color and as hard as flint. In five or six days they acquire the full size, and are then upwards of twi:i . inches in length. At this period, it is said, one of theseivrqrms will eat a large blade ofgrass, in a couple of • minutes. Wherever they appear. it win great force and hence are called Ares , Worms.—ita/t. Pato
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