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VOL. I.
Orijc ©corqin lUcckli),
J)K VOTED TO
Literature and General Information,
WM. HENRY PECK,
Editor and Proprietor.
Published every Wednesday, by
PECK & EIN ES .
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IMPROMPTU TO THE OLD BELL.
BY KATE B. T.
Ring out, ring out that same old air,
I heard it years ago,
When life shone o’er our flowery path)
A bright and joyous glow j
When feelings then were pure and fresh
As mountain rivulet—
Down, down poor heart —whatcarest thou—*
Why cans’t thou not forget ?
Ring-out again, for years thou’st had
A busy time, Old Sell!
Thou art far removed from youth-
And yet old age becomes thee well!
Tby tongue is still a merry tongue—
Thy tones as full and deep,
As on those long past Sabbath morns
They wakened us from sleejn
Ring out, ring out a marriage peal,
I heard*as yesrefday—
That Old Bell talks of years gone by—
He should be old and gray.
Peace ! peace 1 have heart—wbat care ye now ?
Brides are but things .of clay;
Come there to-morrow Cyprus wreaths—
For orange flowers to !
Toll, toll—aye, toll, Old Bell I
Your tongue now smacks of gloom j
Your marriage anthem soon is hushed
By coffin, hearse, and tomb. • •
Still, ye! poor foolish heart I
Let the Old Bell have his say! *
He tolled that knell, years, years ago—
He’s tolling it to day I
Ring, ring a peal, Old Bell—
Birth, marriage, what ye will!
I heard you once, in joy and hope—
In gloom t hear ye still 1
There are few, Old Bell, beside myself
That care then what you say.
Peace, h°art! why dig remembrance up ?
Thou should’st be wild and gay 1
Oh, would the Bell would cease,
, Across this achius-braiu-r
There comes to mock its heavy load
One bright, blest gleam again,
Lost ones yet live, kind hearts yet beat,
Home, home—r know ye well—
Remembrance needs no prompting power
Bid me forget—Old Bell.
The Exposure.
BY WILLIAM HENRY PECK.
A very dashing, sparkling, and
handsome young man was Harry Gas
par, of New Orleans, and ’twas a pity
so fine-looking and tasty a gentleman
was not wiser. Nearly, if not quite
six feet high, with a complexion fair
and rosy as a healthy maiden’s ; locks
of jet, teeth of pearl, hands small,
slim and snowy; a voice of most har
monious tone ; address of D’Orsay,
and a bow like Chesterfield’s, so soft,
so gentle and so winning—’twas no
wonder old Bombazine gave him the
post of “floorwalker” in his im
mense dry goods establishment, and
that the ladies went to the store to
make their purchases more to ex
change compliments with Mr. Gaspar
than for anything else. Old Bomba
zine would have promoted Harry to
the responsible office of head book
keeper and cashier, had that young
gentleman desired it ; but Harry liked
his avocation, and ’tis true that a
handsome person shows to infinitely fi
ner advantage when promenading a gor
geous bazaar, full of splendid arches,
immense mirrors, beautiful draperies,
(ala mode my friend Brown Whis
kers) smiling dames and blushing dam
sels,'than it possibly could if perched
upon- a stool, behind varnished
bars an'd green baize curtains, growing
bald and short sighted there, pecking
and peppering away at figures, like a
starved rooster at an ant hill.
Harry was very far from being wise,-,
but he had wit enough to know all this,
and when old Bombazine offered him
a higher salary and more labor Gas
par smiled a gentle denial and bowed
his thanks so profoundly that the head
of the firm almost shed tears. Bom
bazine being a plain, blunt fellow,
stood somewhat in awe of Harry, who
seemed to condescend to be employed
by him.
Now, although Harry delighted to
escort richly dressed dames and beau
teous damsels to tempting piles of silks,
velvets and satins, he had a constitu
tional horror of taking the slightest
notice of any plainly dressed, homely
lady ; and measured the sweep of his
stride, the profundity of his bow, the
suavity of his tone, by the youth,
beauty and apparent wealth of his la
dy customers.
This peculiarity, I am told by several
of my lady friends, is not confined to
Mr. Harry Gaspar, but has been some
times noticed in others in the employ
of the great firm of Bombazine & Cos.,
and other similar establishments. Per
haps the heads of the firm do not no
tice it, but the writer takes advantage
ilv o>cimiii» Itteklw.
' * ■ r%i 4 -
JP&flteb to fife anb (General Information.
of this sketch, Which he assures the
reader really contains more truth than
fiction, to inform Bombazine k Cos.,
Drill & Cos., Satin, Velvet & Cos.,
Staple, Fancy & Cos.. Wholesale, Re
tail & Cos., Foreign, Domestic & Cos.,
that the evil exists, is largely com
mented upon, and should, for the
sake of woman and manhood be ex
punged. True, the plainly dressed
homely, unassuming Jady or woman—
and womari is a higher title, Tim
Toots, than lady; for the latter ap
pellation once had a very different sig
nification, Tim Toots, than that which
custom now gives it—’tis true, I say,
that the plainly dressed woman must
purchase, and you are the sellers,
yet there are houses in this city
where no barometer or thermometer
of politeness hangs at the door, to fall
with woolen or rise with velvet, to be
chilled by calico or heated by satin ;
and these stores are no losers for the
lack of a guage for bows and affabil
ity. •< *
Mr. Harry Gaspar was a guage in
himself, and many of the lesser em
ployees of the great firm blew hot and
cold in accordance with his cue.
Did a richly clad dame, all fuss and
furs, and feathers, enter the establish
ment, Mr. Henry Gaspar tortured him
self into the most fascinating, excru
ciating, money-getting affability.—
’Twas a rare sight in itself, but not,
oh reader, in its frequency, to mark
him as he learned the real or fancied
wants of the supposed Zenobia, and
as he proudly wheeled, and, sweeping
up the long avenue of magnificent
goods, and expectant clerks —all ea
ger now that le grand baton had been
waved, to do homage to Zenobia’s
wealth—marshalled her with superb
hauteur for all sublunary things, she
excepted, to the particular shrine
whereon Fashion bade her sacrifice to
Folly.
“ See that Queen Zenobia hath the
best and the rarest, vile counter-vaul
ter,” Harry seemed to exhale from his
curling lip of pride, as he bowed Ze
nobia to a softly cushioned seat.
It was a piteous sight, saw
callous, to see the bold, brow-beating
stare with which he assaulted the cal
ico garb, or the unhandsome face
and it was a coward’s heart that al
lowed him to permit the lonely woman
to falter along that glaring avenue, to
run the gauntlet of scornful or care
less eyes, to stammer out the half-ar
ticulate request for a trifle of this or
that, to be kept waiting tedious min
utes, till Zenobia and her train were
served, to have her little purchase
tossed disdainfully at her, to see her
small piece ot silver—small to you,
Tim Toots, but great and labor gained
to her—left carelessly where she
placed it so reluctantly. It was a
shame to manhood, Hurry Gaspar, to
do all this; hut it was the custom
there ! and is, elsewhere, Tim Toots.
Mr. Harry Gaspar was one of those
laudable youths who, springing from
poverty and lowliness, have mounted
the steed of fortune, and there carry
out the old adage, “ Put a beggar on
horseback and he will ride to theuevil.”
And Harry had been riding thither
ward very fast of late. He stuck the
first spur into the capricious steed
when he refused to recognize his old
mother when she went one rainy,
stormy night to the great and glitter
ing store to ask Harry to lend her his
umbrella. Poor dame ! she knew him
too well to ask him, to demand of him,
(as was her right,) a coach and his
precious protection to her little cottage
in the Fourth District; but alas ! she
did not know him well enough to pass
the glaring, gas-blazing bazaar, as if
she had no son who had once rested a
puny, wailing, sickly thing upon her
loving bosom, a son who owed all that
he had to her, to her who had twelve
years, before, begged blunt, but charit
able, Bombazine to allow her little
boy, then thirteen years of age, to en
ter his rising house as a sweep-boy.—
She hadsaved, and starved, and thirst
ed, and been cold and in want, to
clothe him respectably for many a
long year, till Bombazine himself be
came interested in the lad, and “ made
so much of him,” that Harry began
almost to patronize Bombazine in turn.
When, hesitating, plainly but neatly
clad, she entered the store, and ad
dressed Harry, he said, brutally :
“We have nothing for beggars
here!” and before the decrepit old
dame could say, “ God bless me!”
had hustled her into the street. She
prayed to God to soften the heart of
her son, and tottering homeward died
on the street not far from Tivoli
Circle.
But Harry rejoiced in the riddance,
for none in the store, nor elsewhere,
knew the truth. Yes, there was one,
and I must now speak of him.
William Banner was a fellow clerk
of Harry’s, and had been introduced
into the store very much under the
same circumstances. He, too, pos
sessed from nature a manly and showy
person, but none of the vanity, ingrat
GREENVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 1801.
itude and evil-heartedness of Harry.
Gentle, unassuming and attentive to
his business, kind, affable and courte
ous to rich and poor alike ; diligent,
honest and honorable, he had risen to
the responsible post of Cashier, and
stood far higher in the heart and head
of Mr, Bombazine than that gentle-,
man imagined. At first, Banner hud
been much annoyed by the flippan(
airs assumed towards him by Gaspaif,-
but as years passed he became removed*
from all contact with him, and studi
ously avoided him at all times. ( , f
William secretly gloried in comfort
ing the declining years of iusa ged and
widowed mother; Harry secretly glo
ried in his freedom from all maternal
ties. William was as honest and hon
orable as he appeared ; Harry as was
dishonest in thought and dishonorable
in act as his exterior Was faultless.
Thus matters stood till each found
the other a dangerous rival for. the af
fections of Bombazine’s only child,
the lovely and amiable Grace:-' The
father allowed the suit of both, for he
looked upon them kindly alike > and
the maiden was puzzled to clropse.—
The showy elegance and brilliant
manners of Harry dazzled Jier eyes,
as the eyes of young damsels will be
dazzled ; while the .calm beauty and
milder manliness of William appealed
more strongly to her heart and mind.
The weight of a hair will turn the well
balanced scales, and thus equally
poised in her bosom were the fates of
the two lovers. Harry loved her as
passionate men, whose eyes are then
only guides, love the fascinating beau
ty, and because she was an acknowl
edged heiress to great wealth —and the
latter, it must be confessed, was not
the least poteht attraction for him.
William loved her for the graces of her
mind, as well as for the charms-of her
person. He had studied her minutely,
and believed that she alone of all the
women he knew, could make him the
wife that his dreams of happiness had
painted.
“ Try your hands, boys/Qhad said
Bombazine, “ you shall both have fair.
shall be my choice.”
Openly and honorably, William
pressed his suit, and Harry pretended
to do the same. Yet he left no means
untried to rout liis rival. He could
have stabbed William in the back, and
rejoiced in the deed merely because
he, alone, stood between him and
Grace,. How much more gladly would
he have stabbed him, if he dared, had
he known that William had followed
his discarded mother, when her son
expelled her from the store, and had .
conveyed her in a coach as far as Tiv- ; -
oli Circle, where the feeble, heart
crushed old dame had expired in hii3,'
arms, praying God to forgive Harry
Gaspar, as his mother, dying from.his. t
brutality, forgave him. 1.. ’
William had never told Harry that '
he was the gentleman who had carried
home his dead mother; in fact, Harry
never knew, nor cared how she ar
rived there, for a simple message from
the hired servant of the 014 lady in
formed him the following morning,
that his., mother had been brought
home dead in a carriage by a stranger,
who had learned from the dying dame
that “one Harry Gasper, at Bomba
zine’s, was her son.”
With his characteristic taciturnity.
Banner had kept all this to himself,
and Harry remained in happy ignor
ance of the fearful secret that burned
in those dark eyes which pored so assid
uously over Profit and Loss behind
the baize curtain.
When William found that Harry
was his only rival in the heart ot
Grace, his soul expanded with joy, for
he knew her nature and feelings so
well, that he felt assured he held the
destiny of Harry’s suit under his |
heel—a single step could crush Gas
per’s high hopes as fatally as if they
had been but bubbles of glass. Ido
not censure William, because he ex
ulted in this secret power. I would
censure him had he rejected its poten
cy. But he was puzzled as to the
time and manner in which he should
expel the unblushing and haughty
Harry, not only from the house of
Bombazine k Cos., but from the com
panionship of all honorable men. He
shrank from informing Grace, lest she
might think him secret, dark and
plotting. He was now sorry that he
had kept the secret so long —nearly
two years—and resolved never to tell
it unless it should be necessary—not
to gain him the hand of the charming
girl, but to save her from the terrible
fate of becoming the wife of such a
cold-blooded, hearties scoundrel as this
sparkling, elegant, handsome, modern
Nero.
But he was not to be the one who
should open the eyes of the unsus
pecting Grace to Gaspar’s true char
acter. Mr. Gaspar himself was to be
his own unmasker, and William was
spared the self-humiliation oftaking
the first fold of the dazzling cloak
from the hideous soul that coiled, like
a viper, in the bosom of his proud
riVaL
One day both William and Harry
had pressed Grace to make her choice,
and the fluttering heart Os the young
girl was still undetermined in its love
—and such vaciliation is far more
common than romances will allow.—
The natural warmth of her tempera
ment inclined her more toward the
flashing and voluble Gaspar; while
the deep and ineffable, yet easily seen
affection, strong, high, and disinter
ested, that made, radiant the dark eyes
of Banner, seemed to penetrate her
very soul.
She Was indeed sorely perplexed, as
have been innumerable maidens be
fore her, and as will be innumerable
maidens after her.
On the evening of that day she, es
corted by William and her father, had
gone to attend a large and select par
ty at the house of her uncle, a house
which Gaspar had never entered, from
some mutual dislike, spontaneously
sprung up between Mr. Farnot and
They had been there several
hows, when she recollected some im
portant little affair which one of her
friends, then absent, had intrusted her
to <®liver as soon as possible. The
agitation, of her mind had banished
the Commission from her memory till
nearly twelve, o’clock. Suddenly re
calling it, and as it was nothing save
to deliver a letter at a house at the
next corner, she listened to discharge
it. She thought of asking an escort,
but William was upon the floor irre
trievably entangled in the dance, her
father was prancing as gayly as the
rest, she could see the hall lamp of the
house to which she wished to go still
burning, and therefore knew the farn
ily must be up. So, hastily snatching
a shawl from the ladies’ dressing room
and throwing a hood over her head,
she quietly slipped out to deliver the
.love-letter —-such it was—and confi
dent that not five minutes would
elapse ere she should be safely back,
and none be the wiser, save tbe recip
ient of the letter.
-■nwi-mii uiifPiF
' the affair - , that tickled the innocent lit
tle heart of the lovely maiden delight
fully. She soon reached the house
and delivered the letter into the prop
er hands, and was merrily tripping
her way across the street on her Re
turn, When she met Mr. Harry Gas
par, drunk as a loon or a lord—and
often a lord is a loon, though never a
loon a lord—face to face. Af the in
stant of encounter, the moon, before
clear rind radiant, Was hidden by a
'.dense mass of dark clouds sweeping
;the sky in stormy squadrons; and
though’ the quick glance of the rosy
'damsel immediately recognized Mr.
“Harry -Gaspar and his plight, he, with
lidenry eyes dimmed from telescopic
;views of bar,-room decorations through
‘Ale&iolic drinks and sixpenny tumblers
bad failed to recognize his lady-love.
** Whither, away, fairy bird of the
n®it:” cried Harry, rudely grasping
lier-by Ihe arm, as she endeavored to
httri:y"by.
Indignation, scorn Contempt, loath
ing—l know not what bitter emotion
did mot arise in the gentle heart of the
terrified maid, as she struggled to free
her arm from his strong and drunken
violence. Did all our fair dames and
damsels detest the presence of an ine
briate as deeply as did our fair friend
Grace, I warrant there would be less of
Youn*» American bacchanalian feats
displayed in our public places. But
our future wives and mothers look too
carelessly, too forgivingly, not only
upon this common habit of Young
“Jtmerica, but upon a score of others,
scarcely less reprehensible.
Thus had it been with Harry, but
not when he had been honored with
the presence of Miss Grace. He had
been far too cunning for that. With
her he was a saint. Let -us not nar
rate now all that passed upon the
street, tor the foolishness af the drun
kard needs not to be paraded here.
Let us return to the house of Mr. Far
not, where all was gaiety and delight.
Grace suddenly appeared among the
guests, pale but resolute, and ealled
her father aside.
“ I have been insulted, father; and,
oh ! how grossly !” said she to the old
gentleman, and then told how and by
whom.
Jler fatheT was furious, and would
to inflict merited chastise
ment upon the offender, then lurking,
like a thief, in the back alley, had not
Grace, whose bosom justly burned
with a desire for vengeance—if I
may use so strong a term in connec
tion with so gentle a maiden—pre
vented. She whispered to her father
some plan, and he eagerly consented,
and speaking aloud to the guests,
said;
“ I beg of every lady and gentle
man here to preserve a profound si
lence, after I shall have darkened the
parlors and hall, till I have prepared
a surprise for the party. ‘ I assure
you, my frietids, Twill be well worth
seeing.”
Os course instant and unanitriotls
consent Was given. The gas was
turned down till nothing was visible in
the spacious saloons save the little blue
and rayless sparks that hovered over
the burners, and every guest became
silent and rigid as statues. Then
Grace left them, and soon was heard
returning accompanied by a heavy
arid unsteady step.
“Hush!” said Grace to her blun
dering companion,. as he floundered
over a chair near-the folding-doors.
“Hush ibis,” said Harry, who had
not the faintest suspicion of his part
ner nor of his locality—“ but this is
blind traveling.”
“ Turn on the gas !” roared Bom
bazine, unable longer to control his
rage, and high flamed the brilliant
jets, revealing Mr. Harry Gaspar,
bootless, speechless, witless, in the
centre of an astonished and staring
audience.
For a moment the ensnared wretch
gazed around him in wild and bewil
dered surprise; but as the sudden
shock began to sober him, and as he
gazed upon a score of well-known and
scornful faces, not least among them
the pale and contemptuous counte
nance of Grace, the angry visage of
Bombazine, rind the exultant features
of William Banner, he stammered out;
“ Better men than any here, have been
betrayed by treacherous wine and
women.”
“ But riot worse have killed their
mothers,” said Banner.
The accusation, so unexpected, SO
true, so overwhelming, infuriated the
rascal, and with a loud cry. of rage he
fled from the parlors to the hall, where
he found himself in the custody of a
policeman, who, as he eseorted him to
the lock-up, lectured him edifyingly
upon the probable consequences of his
“ scrape,”
Rage, shame, mortification and ex
cess brought on a fever in whose hot
and fatal embraces llarrjr Kfc|gjpar
Had he lived three months, Jong#;
he would have heard of the marriage
of Mr. William Banner to Miss Grace,
and that the great firm had become
Bombazine, Banner & Cos.
The Hearth at Home.
DY DIN MONT;
When the strife of day has passed a wifi
Aud the darkened hues of night abound*
When nature veils the light of day,
And darkly clothes the world around;
Hosv sweet it is to linger near,
From busy scenes so free to roam,
To greet the triends we love so dear,
That meet us ’round the hearth at home.
The happy wife with smiling face,
The smiling boy upon my knee,
My little girl, whose childish grace,
Doth give a welcome home to me ;
All cling around that happy hearth,
From care and strife divorced to rfMm,
And find the r. lished swee-s of earth
Are centered ’round the hearth at home.
Hut when this life has passed away,
Like leaves before the wintry blast,
My memory will stiil live the lay,
And true affection seek the p>st;
They’ll think of one they loved to greet,
In happier climes then called to roam.
And bless the form they loved to meet;
Around the hearth at home.
jggf” We have received the follow
ing communication from an esteemed
friend, and gladly give it place in our
columns ; though we have been forced
to shorten the speech ;
Mr. EdlYor .' Enclosed I send you
a speech which I desire you to publish
in The Georgia Weekly. I clip it
from the columns of the good old Na
tional Intelligencer of September 25,
1858. I am sure, sir, it will do no
discredit to your columns, although it
may have been overlooked or neglect
ed by every other Georgia paper. If
there is any such thing as a lovely
speeclgit is certainly one. It is upon
a subject deeply interesting to us all,
and calling aloud every day for the
expression of our warmest and kindest
sympathies, and if it should fail to
exalt the great and good man who
made it in the estimation of your rea
ders, perhaps it may not, “the noble
animal,”—its subject. Its elegance
and simplicity will be appreciated by
the learned and the unlearned, while
the placid and honeyed strain of elo
quence in which it closes, is surprising
ly grand and beautiful. Its quiet
and dignified humor is the charming
novelty of the speech, and will not
fail to strike you as eminently appro
priate and becoming. K.
Said the Orator:
I have always regarded the horse as
the most beautiful of the subject race
of animals. I have looked upon him
as one of the most useful, the most in
telligent, of those humbler associate
partners of our toils ; rind tracing the
I history of our race from the very com
mencement, t do believe that the
horse is entitled to a far greater share
of credit as a partnef in the Concern
than an unreflecting mind is willing to
allow. Deduct all that has been
achieved directly or indirectly by the
aid of the horse, in the Way of con
veyance at home from place to place;
for business or recreation ; of distant
journeyings, before the power of steam
was so wonderfully applied to the pur
poses of locomotion, of the draught
of heavy burdens, of motive power
connected with machinery, of agricul
ture, and of war, in all countries and
of all ages—deduct all that has been
done directly or indirectly in all these
respects by the aid of the horse, and
what a stupendous abatemeht yoti
would make from the Bum total of
achievement arid progress ! Then it
is really startling to reflect on the de
grees of sagacity, of memory, of gen
erous emulation, of sensibility to kind
treatment, which are possessed by
these inferior animals, as in our pride
of rational nature we regard them. I
remember to have read not very long
ago an authentic account of a char
ger, all fire and nerve, whom the sound
of trumpet stirred almost to madness,
whose furious impatience to rush upon
roaring batteries and bristling bayo
nets could hardly be restrained by the
most powerful rider, who would yet
permit the child of two years old, who
had strayed into the stable, to sport
about his heels, and drag a little rat
tling cart unmolested betwen his legs.
It is perplexing, it is almost painful
to consider what high degrees of intel
lectual and moral power are evinced
by animals whom we profanely call
brute beests. I suppose it was a re
flection on these noble qualities of the
horse, intellectual and moral, that led
the wittiest, the bitterest, and, I am
SOrry to say, the filthiest, of the sa
tirists of our language—l mean Dean
Swift—in that remarkable romance of
his, one of the most fascinating as well
IlirnstJ, Turner iiiuv JJI uiioun
'Cable name which he gives him, as the
wiser, the more sagacious, the nobler
animal, and to describe the human
j race, disgustingly caricatured, as Ya
hoos, as an inferior order of beings.
I do not know, but you will think it
rather beneath the dignity of the oc
casion to allude to such a book as
Gnthver’s Travels, and yet it does
contain, among many most instructive
remarks, one of those passages into
which the wisdom of ages is condensed
in a single sentence, and which is
more often quoted, at least a part of
it, at all agricultural and rural shows,
than perhaps any other in the whole
compass of literature. “The man,”
says the King of Brobdignag, “who
can make two ears of corn or two
blades of grass to grow on the spot
■where only one grew before, would de
serve better of mankind and render a
more essential service to the country
than the whole race of politicians pat
together.”
The noble qualities of tbe borse
seem, to have made an impression up
on the most brutalized of our own
species. I suppose it is this which led
the Emperor Caligula to erect a mar
ble stable for his horse Incitatus, to
provide him with an ivory toanger,
with housings of imperial purple, a
breast-plate studded with diamonds
and pearls, and then to elevate him to
the dignity of the consulship. I have
no doubt, if it had been put to the
vote throughout the Homan empire,
then co extensive with the civilized
world, they would have decided that
they had a better Corisul 'than Eniper
or. They had been too familiar with
the rapacity of the tyrants who chased
each other over tbe stage, dagger in
hand, not to be pleased with the ele
vation of a ruler who would take noth
ing but oats out of the public crib—
a ruler who, while the reins were with
him, would at least have given them a
Stable administration.
I hope that the general result of
these exhibitions will be that while
they tend to improve the animal him
self they will also have the effect of
enlarging our sympathies toward him,
and thris, in the final result, to secure
him better treatment. There is too
much room for improvement in this
respect in all parts of the cotfntry. I
saw, but a few days ago, a brute ift
human form, perched upon a seat of
his wagon holding his horse with a
careless and loose rein—going at a
smart trot —-allowing him to go down
on his knees at a sharp corner on the
slippery flagstone. The noble animal
made a convulsive and finally success
ful effort to recover himself; but he
had hardly risen to his feet when the
driver leaped from bis wagon arid be
gan, for what wav his own fault, to
apply the handle of his whip to the
head and the inside of the legs of the
noble beast, and could scarcely be re
strained by the indignant remonstrance
of the bystanders. I trust that the
NO. 2.