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ADVERTISEMENTS
enders of Tor eig u
MERCHANDIZE.
♦ GREEABLY toe certificate furnished
Ei me by the Clerk of the Court of Quar
ter Sessions of the Retailers of Foreign
Merchanclize within the County of Adams,
I hereby designate those who have taken
out License and those who have not, for
one year from the first of May 1840.
,Those who have taken out License
Samuel Witherow,
Isaac Rougher,
Daniel H. Swope, _
William Hammil,
- -Thomas J. Cooper, •
George Arnold,
Robert G. M'Creary,
Samuel H. Buehler,
John Jenkins,
Jacob A. %Vinrott ,
Conrad Weaver,
Henry Wasmus,
Alex. R. Stevenson,
Enoch Simpson,
David White,
John Tudor,
J. H. Aulebaugh,
Eusebius J. Owings,
A. S. E. Duncan,
Peter Mickley,
Thos. M'Knight,
Albert Vandike, 1
David, Beecher t ' I
Nicholas Mark, I
Henry Shriver,
John 31 '1 lvame, I
.
Morritz Budy, V I
Henry Roberts, I
John M'Knight, e
George Minnigh, t
John Conrad, t
Jesse Houck, a
Abraham Scott, a
George Wilson, I
Joseph Carl, 7
Ambrose M'Farlane, a
George Bange, a
H. %V. Single, 8
Wm. Ickes, 8
W. & B. Garener, 7
Jacob Myers, S
Alexander M'Cush, S
Jacob Brinkerhoff, a
Abraham King, S
Wm. Alexander, S
John Miller, 7
Henry Stouter, 8
John A. Deiner,
.41
Daniel March, 8
Wm. Hildebrand, a
John Brown, S
Philip Miller, • 9
Blythe & M'Cleary, 8
wm. Johnston, 8
Michael Lawyer, 8
Jacob Martin, 8
S. M. &S. S. Bishop, -- • • 8
Joseph Krofll 8
M'Sherry & Fink, 8
E. F. K. Gerber, 8
John Weikert, S
Alfred Cole, 9
Jacob ['calling, ' s
John Clunk, 9
Jacob Ickes, S
Malon Griest, 8
John Shreiner, 8
Hiram Boyd, ' 8
James M'Kensey, S
David Zeigler, 8
Levi & Arnold, - • . 8
'Those who have not taken out License.
David Shitz, ' 8
James S. Davis, 8
Simon Becker, , 8
Adam Epley, 8
John Picking, - 8
Benjamin R. Robinson. 8
Wm. Arnold, 8
J. H. M'CLELLAN, Treas'r.
/Treasurer's Ofilco, No- Z
vember 10,,1840.
NoTxoz.
ALL ,concernecriire hereby notified that
the fionk Accounts of Col. Saxon,
Wrrnehow, have been transferred to me,
for the use of certain preferred credi
tors, and also, the in'ereit of the said With
erow in the books and notes of the late firth
of 31iller & Witherow, hove been assigned
to me,nnd speedy payment is !arrested.
'l', C. MILLER.
November 17, 1840, at-34
1 AgIMMI37 I:
iweeteat flowers enrich'd
From various gardens cull'd with care."
STANZAS.
Sweet . tho modest, downcast eye,
Speaking sure the virtuous heart,
Sweet the cheek of roseate dye,
Tinged by Nature—not by Art:
Sweet the unaffected4r,
Pleasing most wheia striving least,
Naught with Nature ean compare,
Natute's elegance is best.
Fair the form of tender moue'
Bending o'er-4KliFtion'a couch,
Purer far than finest,g6ld,
Hearts that SyntiSithy can touch.
Gentle as the falling dtw,
Soothing accents sweetly flow:,
Soft as billing turtles con,
Kindness blunts the edge of woe.
Solt as gossamer the breast,
Nursing virtuous Love alone,
Scorning Pride in baubles dreas'd,
Simpering with affected tone:
Pug) as nectar (ruin the heart
-Flows the gentle stream of love,
Love, that Friendship may impart,
Purest passion from above,
atawoollasoova.
From the Lady's Book
THE HORSE BLANKET.
BT N. C. BROOKS.
ingratitude!
Is% not as if this mouth should tear this hand
For lifting food to it!"
The commandment which enjoins par.
ental reverence may be justly regarded as
the most important of the Decalogue; for
obedience to parents i n s not merely the first
social duty which devolves upon man, but
the first ofall duties—even before obedience
to Heaven. The infant mind can compre
hend the claims oE parental authority, as a
visible power, at an earlier period than it
can recognise those of the invisible divine
majesty; and in rendering homage. to the
requirements of the former it is Vprepared
for submitting its faculties to the guidance
of the latter—the parent on earth is, to the
dawning intellect of the child, the visible
representative of the Father in heaven.
Hence the importance of the early inculca
tion, and the proper discharge of this duty
—the first which we owe to man—the first
to lead our minds by necessary gradation to
the love and otiedience of God. If the first
impulses of the heart be right, will they
not be likely to continue La If the first
duties of life be performed properly, has
not the soul been strengthened in virtue to
discharge those which may succeed? But
alas! if the child casts aside the allegiance
which he owes to his ptirents—trampling
alike on the better instincts of nature and
the law of God, who may have hope that
his atter course will be in obedience to tho
dictates of Heaven—of virtue or of honor?
lithe stream be poisoned at its fount, what
power shall purify its waters in their devi
ous meanderings?
Henry Addington was a tradesman who
kept a shop in one of the humbler streets of
London- He was of obscure parentage,
but of correct morals and good feelings.
Without edueation and with but ordinary
understanding, he had been enabled by
early industry and economy to realize funds
to commence shopkeepiug in a small way.
His strict attention to the affairs of his
store. his probity, and his obliging disposi
tion soon extended his business, and fortune
ran with a current for ever deep ening and
widening the channel of gain, until he
began to look forward to independence.—
In time, he actually became wealthy, but
in an unsuspicious moment forgot his usual
prudence, and tempted by the extravagant
promises of' another tradesman, confided
most of his funds to him . to bo expended in
a magnificent speculation. The failure of
the enterprise and the dishonesty of the
merchant with whom he had established
the connexion nearly ruined him,—in the
short space of twelve months the earnings
and gains of nearly a feurth of a century
were gone, and he was left almost destitute
to commence the world anew, trusting to
the slow yet certaio additions of prudent
trade to repair the ruins of deceitful specu
lation. A new motive was also added to
insure renewed exertion; for. some time
before his losses, he had taken a wife, and
the wish was natural to make a prudent
provision for his family. His honest and
pereevering.endeavours were crowned with
due success, and he began to recover—until
ho had satisfied tLe claims that were against
him, and held tree of debt a stock of con
siderable value.
In a few years his wife died, leaving one
son, a child of seven years, the survivor of
several children that had been the fruit of
their marriage. Fletcher being thus the
only [mural tie that remained to the trades.
mnn, the,affection which had been bestowed
upon the othereeeerced to be concentrated
upon hum; and he was accordingly nurtured
with great tenderness. His inclinations
were seldom thwarted, his humour was in•
dulged and his wishes gratified, however
exorbitant—in a word, he was a pet—and
as is usual with pets, the spoiled child of
indulgence.
Conscious of his own mental deficiencies,
the tallier was anxious to afford his son the
44 TAe liberty to know, to utter, and to argue, freely, is above oil other liberties."
QtrailiffilYCLUginae o Wcacie tetraieszbaxe cffebPr'afialfZ.o,2l.ll.l 949 1104.10),a
ience.
Fletcher In due time was associated will
his father in trade, and the prompt despatch
of the former with the experience of the
latter inenred general success in their enter
prises. But at length Fletcher determined
to marry, and importuned his father to
retire from buetnees,to domestic ease, and
give up the affairs of the firm to his Buie
direction. The old man was advanced in
years, and required repose, and was not un•
willing to escape the cares of mercantile
life, and acceded therefore to his wishes.
A dashing new sign, with "FLETCHER
ADDINGTON, in letters of gold, usurped
the place of the plain white one with "AD
DINGTON AXD Soeupon it in black letters,
and the son "antediem" entered upon the
heritage of his father. At the , same time
a residence was purchased near the city,
Combining the advantages of town and
country, and the title made out in the name
of the son. The' good old man committed
all thing into his hands—his stock in trade,
his money, his house, his all; and was to
spend the calm evening of his days in unin
terrupted ease with his children, a pensioner
upon the undoubted gratitude el the son to
whom he had relinquished every thing.
He did not for a moment reflect that chil •
dren, accustomed from earliest infancy to
regard their parents as their natural protec-
tors. never feel their dependence in receiv
ing benefits or gifts through life; but that
the case is very different when parents come
to receive a dependence upon their children;
•
and that in the tenure of some property in
their own hands, they have the guaranty of
love and tenderness from them in the double
feeling of gratitude and of interests. In
confiednce and affection he bestowed all,
and looked for filial piety to south the deeli
nine eve of ooe whose tarn of life had been
toil. In the love of his children, in the
cessation from labour, and the companion
ship of a few tried old friends, he hoped to
abide quietly the time of his departure, and
lie down at length with tranquility on the
couch of death.
Fletcher's wife was a fashionable woman,
the daughter of a gentleman who had been
rendered bankrupt by his expensive living.
To her husband she brought no money; but
oo the contrary an ambition for display and
prodigality for which his means were en
tirely inadequate. Proud, supercilious,and
selfish—a heartless votary- of fashion—it is
not to be presumed that she was either cal-.
eulated or disposed to make her father-in
law happy. The old man was ton plain in
his person and manners to please her fasti
dious taste; and she did ant hesitate to
exhibit her contempt of him and the old
friends who came tome him. Heves soon
given to understand that he must have less
company—that their dry conversation and
rude jests were not to be tolerated when
polite and fashionable persona were accus
tomed to converse. One by one his friends,
who perceived their presence was unwel
come to the lady of the house, ceased to
visit him, and the old man pined for converse
and company. Hie son, no less thnn his
wife, seemed to regsrd him with coldness
ofmanner that scarcely amounted to civilty;
and he could not but feel that his presence
was oppressive to them.
In the parties that were given at the
house and in the chance assemblages of
persons, no one conversed with him—
no one noticed him. In time, he was ,
requested not to appear at table when
strangers were present, but to await his
meals in a private room. After this the
graceless daughter began to complain that
he injured the settees and lounges by pla
cing his feet on them—that he leaned
back in his chair soiling the paper of the
room with his head—and that he spat
upon the carpets—that his conversation
, was not suitable for their visitors, and that
his presence cast a gloom over them..
The natural pride of his heart had been
increased by his position in society, and
the example and suggestions of his wife,
until feeling was stifled, and the inhuman
eon consented to the proposal to give the
father, to whom they owed everything,
the exclusive use of one room and to con
fine him to it all times.
The old man lived here almost in soli
tude, for his children for days together did
not come into his room, and he saw only
the servants who came to wait on him end
serve up his food. This consisted in gen
oral of the broken meats left from the table
of the family, though the supply was abun
dant.
A short time after transforring, his prop.
erty to his sun, the old 'nen perceived his
error. Tho evident change of manner
G. WASHINGTON BOWEN, VADITOF. & PROPP.IP.TOR.
advantage of a good education, and there.
fore sent him to the most expensive schools.
Fletcher mingled here with those who were
from walks of life superior to that in "which
he moved—end is the little friendly visits.
hone which he made to the houses of his
schoolfellows, witnessed a splendor and dis
play of living that,made him look with con
tempt en the humble appointments of his
own home. A passion for luxury and am
bitious parade became in his mature life one
of his strongest excitements. Although
his father's simple manners, and plain dress
I and conversation were at times mortifying
to his pride, Fletcher was not insensible to
the kindness which he had experienced—he
was in reality grateful for the love and
benefits of which he had been the recipient.
And the good old man in the innocence and
fondness of his heart, in the humble estimate
which he formed of his own character, was
led to pardon his son's impropriety, even
when he seemed to regard with mortifica
Lion and disdair the plain understanding and
ancient manners of the author of hie exia-
which took place in their conduct was wet:
calculated to wound his feelings, while in
the reckless expenditures at home, the
waste of money abroad, and the neglect of
business in the store, he foresaw the loss of
all for which he was enslaved himself for
It fe. Remonstrances were in vain—as they
failed to produce a change at living and
only provoked unkind replies.
Time passed on, and the morn which the
father uteri was required fer a nursery, and
he was removed to nn old outhouse on the
place, at seine distance from the mansion
house. This was a severe blow to the old
man, for although he had no sympathy from
his ungrateful eon and daughter, his grand
children were a source of happiness to him;
aed in their smiles and infantile caresses he
often forgot the heartlessness of their pa
rents. They were' frequently in his roam,
and were the only prop of comfort that
stayed his wearied spirit. The hut in which
ho was placed was old and decayed, and
much out of repair, but the son promised to
have it made thoronghly comfortable before
the cold season came on, which, however,
was not done. The natural son at first
called occasionally to see his father, but at
length entirely discontinued his visits, and
he was left to the care of servants abine.—
It is not to be supposed that they would not
neglect him when he was so utterly aban
doned by others; and accordingly the old
man ofien.suffered from hunger and severe
cold.
Restrained by pride from going to the
house from which he had been so cru
elly exiled, his messages to his son were,
for the most part; either never reported by
the servants or disregarded by their master;
while he, in the mean time, was left to soli
tude and suffering. The visitsof his grand
children during the warm Benson had often
cheered the old man, but when the cold
weather set in they ceased to come to his
cold and miserable abode, and he was left
solitary. With insufficient attire, but little
fuel, and a few old shrudded coverlets upon
a bed of straw, in an old hut through whose
crevices the bitter winds of winter were
whistling, suffered a father whose head was
blanched with the frosts of more than se.
venty years, while the son to whom ho had
oiven life and wealth rioted in luxury and
extravagance, unmindful of his wants—re.
gat dless of his woes. He had sent message
repeatedly to his son to provide him a Fur
of blankets fiat his comfortless bed, but fail
ing to receive them, ho called on the groom
of the stable to make inquiry about them.
The groom told him that he had been una
ble to obtain money to purchase them—
when the old man seeing the hollies which
were kept for the carriage, the course and
the chase, all comfortably protected from
the cold by blanketing, requested the groom
to ask his san for one of their covers to keep
him from freezing. .
On the following morning he called upon
the groom to learn the success of his appli
cation, and met a rude repulse front the ser
vant, who it is possible, had never reported
the matter to his master at all. The old
man's teelings overcame him•—he longed
for death that he might escape further un
happiness, and no longer affiird Occasion to
his unnatural children of impiety that could
not fail to draw down the vengeance of hea
ven upon them. His strength for the time
forsook him, and sittina" down on the sill
of the amble, he leaned his head against the
door: and the sorrows. of his heart found
their way in the sobs that broke from his
bosom, and the streams that coursed his
pale cheeks. Blinded with - tears and the
streaming white hair which the wind had
blown flora his temples over his eyes, he
did not know that any one was near him,
until he felt a weight on his knees and on
throwing aside the long locks that obscured
his vision, saw his second grandson gazing
up into his face with an expression in which
love, pity, sum prieo, and inquiry were sweet
ly blended. The little innocent sought to
learn the cause of his grandfather's sorrow,
but the old man was unable for a time to
take any further notice of his questions than
to press him to his bosom and to weep the
enure passionately. W hen he did ascertain
ibe cause of his grief, the little fellow ran to
tee groom and insisted on his taking the
blanket from the pony which belonged to
him and his elder brother, and haviug re
ceived it, came and throwed it over his
grandfather's shoulder.. Ho then besought
hto go to the house, but the old man re
turn t o the so itude of his dreary hut.
l'irkehr went back to the house weep
ing, and his father, who sat by a cheerful
file: hie feet resting on a cushion, supposing
that he was suffering from the cold, spoke
kindly fo him and offered to take him in his,
arms; but he repulsed his caresses. Be.
sought to tell what grieved him, he broke'
forth into more passionate weeping, and ex
claimed,
"When 1 am a man, I will not be
wicked like you, father; when you become
old and are sent to the hut to lie on a straw
bed, I will not let you freeze there; I will
give you• a horse blanket whenever you want
it, father!" After this, in simple way, he
mentioned the scene at the stable, and eve
ry word went like an arrow to the heart of I
'the inhuman son. The latent spark of na,
tore was enkindled—shame was excited
'the vengeance and retribution of heaven
shadowed forth in the prophetic words of
' his.own child, alarmed him—sorrow, peni
leiace, stirred hie bosom, and he instantly
determined to recall his much neglected,
much abused parent, to the home from
which he had been exiled. He called
in his wife and stated his fixed determine
tion for the future—reproached her. and
himself for the ingratitude, the fo:ly, impi
ety of the past—that they had disregarded
-MILTON
the counsels, the happiness, the honor of
him who had just claims upon them fair oil
reverence; and in the career of fol:y and
extravagance had wasted every thing they
possessed upon (hose :rho in reality cared
ncthing for them.
The reverse of fortune, and the difficul•
ties which the old man had often predicted
during his course of pleasure and fashion,
may, it is possible, have had some influence
in awakening serious reflection and proper
feelings. The father was induced to return
to the mansion house, and found a place at
Am fire - sidirand the table. Fletcher con
sulted him on the state of his affairs, and
was sngicious enough to discover that the
old gentlemen had a much better idea of
business than he had supposed some time
I
before; he adopted many of his suggestions,
and made every effort to recover himself
from his difficulties, by prudence and econ
omy. Flo applied to many whom he had
been disposed to regard as friends in his
prosperity. He found them to be friends
in prosperity only. They could loan him
no money, nor extend his credit if he chan
ced to owe them. In a word, he experien
ced sufficient proof of the heartlessness of
fashionable friends. His merchandize was
seized and sacrificed. Of all that had par-
taken of his hoSpitality—opon whom he had
wasted thousands—there was not one to
lend hitt') a pound to continue business,—
His house and furniture was seized, his stud
of horses, and his boon& Still, of his tea
ny summer friends, there was no one gene
rous enough to give him funds to save the
furniture that wits absolutely necessary for
his family—never was there a more total
abandonment.
Yet plain old Henry Addington had some
friends to whom he was dear, Willa son had
no friends. They who had been treated
, contumeliously by the arrogant son and
'daughter, came forward in time to assist
the father, and through him the unworthy'
children. They supplied the old man with'
funds to purchase such furniture as was ne-
I cessary for the family, with this proviso,
that it
,should be held in Isis name. The
'day of sale _ came on, and the old roan re
solved to bid for the plainer articles only=---
:such as would suit the fallen fortunes of the
family. The circumstances of the sale be
ing known, it was supposed that there would
ho but little competition when he bid; but
unexpectedly there was a stranger present
who proved to be a most determined oppo
-1 vent. Ile seemed inclined to purchaSe ev,
ery thing that
.waseffered, except the more
costly furniture, so that the old man could
scarcely obtain an article 'without its full
(value or even more. "The house and
grounds were next sold, and the mysterious
stranger was the purchaser. The hounds
Were next sold, the hunters, the carriage
horses, and the coursers, but for none of
these did the atratiger offer a bid'. They
appeared to . haVe'tio interest fur him; but
when the pony was put up, the slight little
animal from which the blanket had been ta-
ken Oho least able to spare its cever, if it
might be judged from its ehivering) the
stranger immediately 13:d for it. There
was some competition for it. The eyes of
1 the juvenile owners, as the contest was kept
up, began to glisten then moistened, and
when it was at last knocked down to the
stranger, and led back to the stuff; those of
the younger were deluged in tears. The
sale closed with the day, and the family in
I sorrow and humiliation retired to sleep for
I the last time in the mansion from _which
their own folly had exiled them.
I In the morning the little boys in paying
la visit to the pony that they might carry
him the last feed Wild] he was to have
' from their hands, were glad to find that the
kind owner had already put a blanket upon
him; and their grandfather was shortly af
ter equally surpiised and delighted to re
cover the title papers for the house and
furniture made out in his own name, and a
check for a very large amount on the bank
of England—the sum total, principal and in
terest of the money of which his early part.
ner had defrauded him many years before.
He had returned from India very wealthy,
and learning the distressed circumstances
of the man he bad injured, sought to make
the reparation which justice and honor de.
mended. He shortly alter paid him a visit
and at the same time presented the boys
with their pony.
Henry Addington was ngain wealthy,
and sole possessor of every thing, he deter
mined to remain. He was lord of the do.
mica, and his children his guests. The old
storehouse was obtained, and a very plain
sign put over the door, containing the words
"Addington & Son," and business again
prospered as before. At home tt did not
seem to his son's wife that the old man was
so often disposed to put his feet on the chairs.
He certainly spat less on the carpets, and,
at all events, Wire did not, they were his own.
His conversation was rnore agreeable,
and the old friends who came again to see
him appeared less clownish and old fashion
ed. if they were even a little antique, she
preferred their goodness of heart to the in•
sincerity of the modern fashionable friends
whom she had known. In a word, they
were a happy family—they heartily regret
ting their past errors, and the old man not
I only forgiving them but studiously avoiding
all references to them. In a good old age
Henry Addingtoh was gathered to his fa
thers, leaving to his son the chief part or
his wealth, and bequeathing to- his grand
son the residue, besides the lIORSE - BLANK
ET, which, to the day of hie death the old
man had kept upon his bed; and seemed to
think it contained more warmth than halt
dozen ordinary blankets. "
Reader, I have done; and now, when I
liricUt (Oa =9 d',i 3 CO 4 4.1
tell you tient the pilot; 31 , rucirlee t iu the,
above tale Mc true, will you p andcon
ider the duty of parcr.tal reverence? Ale,
you a mart and behold a young woman who
is dear to you forgettin g the love Mid duty
which she owes to her father? Believe me
when I tell you that tha graceltse dau;.hter
will he the faithless %elle, and that she who
denies retorenre to the head whieli has been
rvinteried in the labor and toil afire for her,
will fin! in her honor of yuu when time nml
change shall have obliterated the charms
that attracted her early attention. Are
you a maiden? Will you trust your happi
ness to one who diiregards the first law of
nature and of heaven? When the dun eyes
of age look to him in vain for the tenclernes,
of filial piety, and the feeble linecs of her
who gave him existence appeal in vain fo,
support, can you flatter yourself that he %VI
be mindful of you when the roses shall hay,
faded _from yoUr cheek, and the graces
your person and the elasticity of your ate.
have departed with the flight of years.—
Build not youi hopes of happiness on a foun-
dation of sand! In conclusion, in the worrt
of a higher wisdom and authority .l would
say to all,' "Honor thy father and thy rn.
the'', that thy days may be long upon the'
earth which the Lord thy God giveth thee."
—or
Lose Cntr n REiTORED.—An event which
occurred near Briancon. 'says 'Gilley's
Waldensian Researches,'. will give some
notion of the.ineidents which erriblazen the
riaountaip life, and field sports in the reeler'
of the A:ps.
A peasant with his wife and three chil
dren, had taken up his summer quarters in
a chalet, and was depasturing his docks on
one of the rich Alps which overhung the
Darance.. The oldest bay was an idiot
about eight years of age, the :second watt
five years old, and dumb, and the youngest
wits an infant. It so . happened that the
infant was left one morning in charge of
his brothers, and the three had rambled
seine distance from the chalet before tiny
were missed—and when the mother went
in search of the little wanderers, she. found
the two oldest, but could discover no traces
of the baby. The idiot boy seemed to bo
in a transport °goy,' while the dumb child
displayed every symptom of alarm and
terror. In vain did the terrified parent
endeavor to collect what lied become 'of the
lost infant. The antics of one and the
fright of the other, explained nothing. The
dumb boy was almost bereft of his senses,
and when the idiot. nppeared, to have ..ae
gaited an unusual degree of mirth and ex
pression, and danced about, laughed, nod
made gestulations as who were' imitating
the action of one who had caught up some.
thing of which he was fond and hugged it
to his heart. This, however, was of some
slight comfort to the poor woman, for she
imagined that some acquaintance had taken
away the infant. But the 'day and night
wore away and no tidings of the lost child.
On the morrow, when the parents, were
pursuing their search, an eagle flew over
their heads, at the sight of which the idiot
renewed his antics, and the dumb boy clung
to his father with shrieks of anguish arid'
affright. Tho horrible truth then burst upon
their minds, that the infant had been carried
elfin the talons orn bird of prey; end the
halfwitted elder brother was happy at his
riddance of an object of whom lie was jeal-
On the morning on which the accident
appened, an Alpine ynger, had been watch
rig near the eagle's nest, under the hope of
shooting the Lind upon her return to her,
neat. The yagor waiting in all the anxious
perseverance of a true sportsman, beheld
the monstor slowly winging herway towards
the rock behind which he was concealed.—
Imagine the horror, when upon her near
approached he heard the cries and distin
guished the figure of an infant in her fatal
grasp. In en instant hie resolution was
formed—to bre at the bird at all hazards,
the moment she should alight upon her nest,
and rather kill the child than leave it to be
torn in pieces by the horrid devourer;—
with a silent prayer and a steady aim, the
mountaineer poised his rifle—the ball went
directly through rho head or heart of the
eagle and in a moment after, this gallant
hunter of the Alps, had the unutterable
delight of snatching the child from the
nest, and bearing it away in triumph. It
was dreadfully wounded in one of its arms
and sides, but not mortally, and within
twenty-four hours after it was first missed,
he had the satisfaction of restoring it to its
mother's arms..
GREAT Loss OF LIFE.—In August last,
H. M. S. Lily, while cruising in the 31n
zambique channel, fell in with a slaver, and
drove her ashore. Of her cargo, consisting
01550 negroes, 200 were drowned, and the
remainder were taken on board the. Lily,
and conveyed to Maritius.
It is said Van Burenism, in all parts of
he country, has suffered dreadfully from
he Arnay worm.
Tan Ex-Kmdior Ilints.No.—M. Walsh
states that the personal fortune Of William,
Ex-Kine of Holland, is estimated at 160.-
000,000 of francs, and the deficit.which he
has lilt in the public finances at from 60,-
000,000 to 100,000,000 ofilorinil
MANNERS MAKE nit! ANN.- , stranger
in London, having recently lost his way,
somewhere in the unknown regions of El ve t ,
Dials, said to an awkward looking fellow.
"I want to go to Dover street." "Well"
replied the fellow; walking cir,llv away,
"why the d—l don't you go then?"