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MISCELLANY
From Sketch Book , No, 6.
THE
Pride of the Village.
May no wolf tiowle; no screech owl stir
A wing about thy sepulchre !
No boysterou* winds or stormes came hither,
To starve or wither
Thy soft tweet earth ! but like a spring
liCve keep it ever flourishing.
» Herrick.'
In the course of an excursion in one of
the remote counties of England, I had
■struck into one of those cross roads that
lead through the more secluded parts of
the country, and stopped one afternoon
at a village, the situation of which was
beautifully rural and retired. There was
an air of primitive simplicity about its in
habitants, not to be found in the villages
which he on the great coach roads. I de
termined to pass the night there, and hav
ing taken an early dinner, strolled out to
enjoy the neighbouring scenery.
My ramble, as is usually the case with
travellers, soon led me to the church,
which stood at a little distance from the
village. Indeed, it was an object of some
curiosity, its old tower being completely
overrun with ivy, so that only here and
there a jutting buttress, an angle of grey
wall, or a fantastically carved ornament,
peered through the verdant covering. It
was a lovely evening. The early part of
the day nad been dark and showery, but
in the afternoon it had cleared up, and
though sullen clouds'still hung overhead,
yet there was a broad tract of golden sky
-in the wes f , from which the setting sun
gleamed "through the dripping leaves, and
lit up alhnature into a melancholy smile.
It seemed like the parting,hour of a good
Christian,'smiling on the sins and sorrows
of the world, and giving, in the serenity
of his decline, an assurance that he will
rise again in glory.
I had seated myself on a half sunken
tomb-stone, and was musing, as aue is apt
to do at this sober-thoughted hour, on
past scenes, and early friends—on those
. who were distant, and those who were
dead—and indulging in that kind of me
lancholy fancying, which has in it some
thing sweeter even than pleasure. Every
now and then, the stroke .of a bell from the
neighbouring tower fell on my ear ; its
tones were in unison with,the seen*, and
, instead of jarring, chimed in witfi my
feelings,and it time before 1 re
collected, that it must be tolling tne knell
of some new tenant of the tomb.
Presently I saw a funeral train moving
across the village green ; it wound slowly
along a lane, was lost, and reappeared
through the breaks of the hedges, until it
passed the place where I was sitting.
The pall was supported by young girls,
dressed in white, and another, about tbe
age of seventeen, walked before, bearing
a chaplet of white flowers ; a token that
tile deceased was a young and unmarried
female. The corpse was followed by the
parents.. They were a venerable couple
of the better order of peasantry. The
lather seemed to repress his feelings ■, but
iris fixed eye, contracted brow, and deep
ly-furrowed countenance, showed the
struggle that was passing within. Hi*
wife hung on his arm, and wept aloud
with the convulsive bursts of a mother’s
sorrow.
I followed the funeral into the church.
The bier was placed in the centre aisle,
and the chaplet of white flowers, with a
pair of white gloves, were hung over the
seat which the deceased had occupied.
Every one knows the soul-subduing path
os of the funeral service ; (for who has
been so fortunate as not to follow some
one he has loved to the tomb !) but when
performed over the remains of innocence
and beauty, thus laid low in the bloom of
existence—what can be more affecting ?
At that simple, but most solemn consign
ment of the body to the grave —“ Earth
to earth—ashes to ashes—Just to dust!”
the tears of the youthful companions of the
deceased flowed unrestrained. The fa
ther still seemed to struggle with his feel
ings, and to comfort himself with the as
surance, that the dead are blessed which
die in the Lord ; but the mother only
thought of her child as a flower of the
field, cut down and in the midst
of its sweetness ; she was like Rachel,
“ mourning over her children, and would
not be comforted.”
On returning to the inn, I learnt the
whole story of the deceased. It was a
simple one, and such as has often been
tuld. She had been the beatify and pride
of the village. Her father had once been
an opulent farmer, but. was reduced in
circumstances. This was an only child,
and brought up entirely at home, in the
simplicity of rural life. She had been the
pupil of the village pastor, the favourite
lamb of his little fluck. The good man
watched over her education with pater,
nal ears ; it was limited, and suitable Ur
the sphere in which she was to move, fin
ite only sought to make her an ornament
to her station in life, not to raise her above
it. The tenderness and indulgence of her
parents, and the exemption from all or
dinary occupations, had fostered a natural
grace and delicacy of dharacter, that ac
corded with the fragile loveliness of her
form. She appeared like some tender
plant of the garden, blooming accidental
ly amid tbe hardier natives of the fields.
The superiority of her charms was felt
and acknowledged by her companions,
but without envy, forthey were surpassed
by the unassuming gentleness and win
ning kindness of her manners. It might
be truly said of her,
“ Till* is the prettiest low-born lass that ever
Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does or seems,
But smacks of something greater than herself j
Too noble for this piace.”
Tlte vtliage vs as one of those sequester
ed spots, winch still retain seme vestiges
of old English customs. It had its rural
festivals and holyday pastimes, and kept
up some faint observance of the once pu
pular rites of May On one. of these oc
casions, when the villagers had reared the
Maypole on the green, and she, as queen
.of May, and crowned with flowers, was
presiding at their sports, she attracted the
notice of a young officer, whose regi
ment had recently been quartered in the
neighborhood. He readily found means
to make her acquaintance, and paid his
court to her in that unthinking way in
which young officers are too apt to trifle 1
with rustic simplicity. 11
There was nothing in his advances to l
startle or alarm. He never even talked v
of love; but there are modes of making it, a
more eloquent than 'anguage,and which
convey it subtilely and irresistibly to the (
heart. The beam of the eye, the tone of t
the voice, the thousand tendernesses 1
which emanate from every word, and I
look, and action—these form the true elo I
cgicnce of love, and can always be felt and <
understood, but never described Is it a i
wonder that they should readily win a
heart, young, guileless, and susceptible ?
For her, she loved almost unconsciously ;
she scarcely Inquired what was the grow
ing passion that was absorbing every
thought and feeling, or what were to be
its consequences. She, indeed, looked
not to the future. When present, his looks
and words occupied her whole attention ;
when absent, site thought but of what had
parsed at their recent interview. She
would wander wifti him through.the green
lanes and rural scenes of the vicinity. 1 He
taught her to see new beauties in nature ;
he talked in the language of polite and
cultivated life, and breathed into her ear
the witcheries of romance and poetry.
Perhaps there could, not have been a
passion, between the sexes, more pure
than this innocent girl’s. The gallant fi
gure of her you tit fill admirer, the splen
dour of his military array, might at first
have charmed her eye ; but it was not
these that had captivated her heart. Her
attachment had something in it of idola
try. She looked up to him as to a hy
ing of a superior species. She felt in
his society the enthusiasm of a mind
naturally delicate and poetical, and now
first awakened to a keen perception of
the beautiful and grand. Os the sor
did distinct’ons of rank and fortune,
she thought nothing: it was the difference
of intellect, of appearance, of manner,
from the rustic society to which she had
been accustomed, tltat elevated him in her
opinion. She would listen to him with
charmed ear and downcast look of mute
delight, and her cheek would mantle with
or if ventured a shy
glance of timid admiration, it was as quick
ly withdrawn, and she would sigh and
blush at the idea of her coroparilive un
worthiness.
Her lover was equally impassioned; but
his passion was mingled with feelings of
a coarser nature. He had begun the con
nexion in levitv; for he had often heard
his brother officers bo.ist of their village
conquests, and thought some triumph of
the kind necessary to his reputation as a
man of spirit. But he was too full of
youthful fervor. His heart had not yet
been rendered sufficiently cold and selfish
by a wandering and a dissipated life: it
caught fire from the very flame it sought
to kindle ; and before he was aware of the
nature of his situation, li£ became really
in love.
What was he to do? There were the
old obstacles which so incessantly occur
in these heedless attachments. His rank
in life—the prejudices of titled connex
ions—his dcpetulance, upon a proud and
unyielding father—all fotbad him to think
of matrimony •. —but when he looked
down upon this innocent being, so tender
and confiding, there was a purity in her
manners, ablantelessness in her life, and a
beseeching modesty in her looks, that aw
ed down every licentious feeling. In vaitt
did he try to fortify himself, by a thou
sand heartless examples of men of sash.
,on, and to chill the glow of generous
sentiment, with that cold derisive levity
with which lie had heard them talk of fe
male virtue ; whenever he came in 'her
presence, site was still sorrounded by that
mysterious, but impassive charm of vir
gin parity, in which no guilty thought
can live.
Tlte sudden arrival of orders for the re
giment to re, Hr to the continent, com
pleted tlte confusion of his mind. Pie re.
named for a short time in a state of the
most painful irresolution; he hesitated to
communicate the tidings, until the day
for marching was at hand; when he gave
her the intelligence in the course of an
evening ramble.
The idea of parting had never before
occurred to her It broke in at once up
on her dream of felicity; she looked upon
it asasuddeti and insurmountable evil, &
wept with the guileless simplicity of a
child. He drew her to his bosom, and
kissed the tears from her soft cheek, nor
did lie meet with a repulse, for there are
moments of mingled sorrow and tender
ness, which hallow the carresses of affec
tion, He was naturally impetuous, and
the sigbfof beauty apparently yielding in
his arms, the'confidence of his power o
ver her, and the dread of losing her for
ever, all conspired to overwhelm his bet
ter feelings—he ventured to propose that
she should leave Iter home, and be the
companion of his fortunes.
He was quite a novice in seduction, and
blushed and faltered at his own baseness ;
but so innocent of mind was his intended
victim, that she at first was at a loss to
comprehend his meaning v —and why she
should Idave her native village, and the
humble roof qf her parents ? When at
last the nature of his proposals flashed up
on her pure mind, the effect was? wither
ing. She did not weep—she did. not
break forth into reproaches—she said not
a word—but she shrunk back aghast as
from a viper, gave him a look of anguish
that pierced to his very soul, and clasping
her hands in agony, fled, as if for refuge,
to her father's cottage.
The officer retired, confounded, humil
iated, and repentant. It is uncertain what
might have been the result of the conflict
of his feelings, had not his thoughts ecu
diverted by the bustle of departure. New
scenes; new pleasures, and new compan
ions, soon dissipated his self reproach,
and siiflcd his tenderness. Yet, amidst
tbe stir of camps, the revelries of gar
risons, the array of armies, and even
the din of battle.,, his thoughts would
sometime steal back to the scene »f
rural quiet and village simplicity—the
white cottage—the footpath along the
silver brook and up the hawthorn hedge,
and the little village maid loitering along
it, leaning on his arm, and listening to him
with eyes beaming "with unconscious af
fection.
The shock which the poor girl had re
ceived, in the destruction of all her ideal
world, had indeed been cruel. Paintings
and hystericks had at first shook her ten
der frame, and were succeeded by a set
tled and pining melancholy. She had be
held from her window the march of the
departing troops. She had seen her faith
less lover borne off, as if in triumph, a
midst the sound of drum and Jrumpet,
and the pomp of amis. She strained a
- ■ '’• .■*» V ?
last aching gaze after Wan, as the morn- ™
ing sun glittered about his figure, and his
plume waved in the breezp; be passed a
way like a bright vision- from her sight
and left her all in darkness. *
tt would be tfite to dwell on the parti
culars of her after ‘ story. It waa, like o
ther tales of l«re, melancholy. She a
votded society, and wandered out alone in ;
the walks she" kad most frequented with
her lover.’; She sought, like the stricken ]j
deer, to weep m silence and loneliness, j
and brood-over the barbed sorrow, that
rankled in Ire? ’ soul.’ Slie would some- a
times be seen in the porch-of the {
’ village/chwch latif of .an evening and the g
milkmaid?/ rdrodnngr from the fields, c
would iie/w and Mien hear her Voice sing- c
ing some plaintive ditty in the hawthorn v
walk She became fervent in her devo- (
tious at church, arid as the old people saw t
her approach, so wasted away, yet with j
hectic bloom, and that hallowed air which {
melancholy diffuses round tjie form, they |
wouldthjke Way for her, at. for something -
spirilud, and, looking after her, would j
shake their heads in gloomy forboding. j
She felt a conviction that she was has- (
tehing to the tomb, but looked forward to (
it as a place of rest. The silver cord that ,
had bound her to existence was loosed, ,
and thejfe seemed to be no more pleasure ,
under the sun. If ever her gentle bosom .
had entertained resentment against her ]
lover, it was extinguished. She was in- .
capable of angry passions, and in a mo- .
mentof saddened tenderness, she penned .
him a farewell letter. It was couched in j
the simplest language; but touching from ;
its very simplicity. She told him that
she was dying,, and did not conceal from
him that his conduct was the cause. She ‘
even depicted the sufferings she had ex
perienced; but concluded w.th saying,
that she could not die in peace, until she
had sent him her forgiveness and her j
blessing
By degress her strength declined, and
she could no longer leave the cottage —
She could only totter to the window,
where, propped up in her chair, it was
her enjoyment to. sit all day and look out
upon the landscape. Still she uttered no
complaint, hor lmpai*cd to any one the
malady that was preying on her heart—
She never even mentioned her lover’s
name; but would lay her head on her
mother's bosom and weep in silence. Her
poor parents hung, in mute anxiety, over
this fading blossom of their hopes, still
flattering themselves that it might again
revive to freshness, and that the bright un
earthly bloom which sometimes flushed
her cheek might be the promise of re
turning health.
In this way she was seated between
them one Sunday afternoon; her hands
were clasped in their’s, the lattice was
thrown open, and the soft air that stole in,
brought with it the fragrance of the clus
lering honeysuckle, that her own hands
had trained round the window.
Her father had just been reading a chhp
lerinthe bihle; it spoke of the vanffy of
worldly things, and the joys of heaven ; it
seemed to have difl’used comfort and se
renity through her bosom. Her eye was
fixed on the distant village church —the
bell had tolled for (he evening service—
the last villager was lagging into the porch
—and every thing had sunk into that hal
lowed stillness peculiar to the day of resr.
Her parents were gazing on her with yearn
ing hearts Sickness 5i sorrow, which pass
so roughly over some faces, had given to
her’s the expression of a seraph’s. A tear
trembled in her soft blue eye.—Was she
thinking of her faithless lover ?—or were
her thoughts wandered to that distant
church-yard, into whose bosom she might
soon he gathered ?
Suddenly the clang of hoofs was heard
—a horseman galloped to the cottage—he
dismounted belore the window—the poor
girl gave a faint exclamation, and sunk
back in her chair;—it was her repentant
lover! He rushed into the house, and
flew to clasp her to his bosom, but her
wasted form—her dealt.-like countenance
—so wan, yet so lovely in its desolation,
smote him to the soul, and he threw him
self in an agony at her feet. She was 100
faint to rise—she attempted to extend her
trembling hand—her lips moved as if she
spoke, but no sound was articulated—She
looked down upon him with an expres
sion.of unutterable tenderness, and clo
clcsrtl her eyes forever.
Such are the particulars which I gather
ed «t this village story. I have passed
through the place since, and visited the
church again from a better motive than
mere curiosity. It was a wintry evening;
the trees were stripped of their foliage
ihexMurct) yard looked naked and mourn
ful, and the wind rustled coldly through
the dry grass. Evergreens, however, had
been planted about the grave of the vil
lage favourite, and osiers were bent over
it to l ' le turf uninjured. The church
door was open, and I stepped in.
There hung the chaplet of flowers and
the gloves, as on,the day of the funeral:
the flowers were withered, it is true, but
care seemed to have been taken that no
dustshould soil their whiteness. I have
seen many monuments, where aft has ex
hausted its powers to awaken the sympa
thy qf the spectator, but I have met with
noneithat spoke more touchingly to my
heart, than this simple, but delicate me
mento of departed innocence.
Coffee Tobacco.
.Bags prime Green Coffee,
•10 Kegs Harris’s best Richmond Manu
factured Tdbacco, *
Just Received, amt For Sale by
C, L. Lawrence, § Co.
Juno 6. • 2w y
V: Notice.
TP HE Subscribers hare formed a connec
tion m business under the firm of
3.XL iNX>3uean.
JOHN M'LEAN,
DANIEL M'LEAN.
Jane 6. 2t
- -.————.——
Count the Cost.
A.LL persons Indebted to the subscriber
by note or open account, are again solicit
ed to come forward and settle tne same by
the 20th instant, otherwise they will be
put in the hands of a proper' officer for
collection, indiscriminately.
John S. Coombs.
June 6. v 2t
?|> ■- ■■
CHRONICLE. ;
Thursday Morning, June 8, 1820. |
The following interesting article is ta 1
ken from a Montreal paper of the 10th
May. Should the imposition alluded to
be made, however gratifying it may be to
a spirit of retaliation, it cannot, we shrewd
ly imagine, be productive of any very t
great benefit to the commercial prosperity .
of either country. A restrictive measure ,
of the kind cagnot long be persisted in, (
without involving the most serious conSe- ;
quences. Nothing can be more ruinous
to commerce than unequal or enormous
impositions of duties, based upon a system ,
of retaliation. It begets and fosters an
hostility offeeling mutually destructive—
The only strife between the contending (
parties is, which shall do the other most
harm. In this they both generally suc
ceed to their “ hearts content.” They (
then retire chop-fallen from the contest
with a “ plentiful lack” of public and
private interest and credit. The hour of
reflection and repentance overtakes them
at a time ■ when they are exhausted and
broken down by their own childish folly ;
and at a time wben they are compelled, ,
and justly too, to suffer the severest pen
ance, under the consoling reflection, that
for thgjr good fortune they have nobody
to thank but themselves.
“ Private intelligence has, (we learn from
a respectable soutae) been received in -
this city, that it is in the contemplation of
the British Government to impose on Got
ton and Rice imported from the United
States duties so high as to render the
measure equivalent to a total prohibition
These articles are in future to be drawn
from the East Indies, which can furnish
them of as good a quality, and equally
cheap ; Independent of the encourage
ment thus given to that part of the Bri
tish Empire. This step has, (it is said;
been taken, as retaliatory for a similar
measure on the part of the United Slates’
Government against British manufac
tures.”
The following additional particulars of
the destruction of the New York Theatre
are extracted from the Spectator :
The flames were seen to burst forth
from the south-east corner of the roof, and
it supposed to have originated in the car
penter’s room. So rap id was the progress
of the devouring element, that in a short
time the Whole of the interior was de
stroyed The evening before a very
crowded audience attended to witness the
representation of a new play, in which the
burning of a frigate was exhibited, but as
the flames clearly came from the roof, and
as some property was saved, it is certain
, that the fire did not originate below. By
some it is said that it broke out in the
pamting room; yet the man, appointed
for that purpose went through the house
after the lights were extinguished, when
all appeared to be perfectly safe; he turn
ed a few sailors out of the gallery, and
closed all the doors; and just as he was
going to bed, the flames appeared. YVe
are clearly of opinion (hat this is the re
suit of accident, and not design. The
proprietors are Mr. Astor and Mr. Beck
man, who were not insured. Mr. Price,
tile manager, was ensured about- §12,000;
but Mr. Simpson has lost his wardrobe,
and many valuable articles, and is not in
sured: a circumstance much to be regret
ted, as he was very much esteemed. The'
performers have lost considerably. The
firemen attached to the seveild-depart
ments exhibited their usual skill, firmness
and address; and to give an idea of their
services, they saved all the surrounding
buildings, the Hotel only being .a little
damaged, which was surprising, consider
ing the vast and powerful body of fire rush
ing from this immense establishment. It
was a providential circumstance, that at
the commencement of the conflagration,
■,ve were favored with rain which preven
ted the roofs of many of the buildings from
the flakes which flew at a great distance.
We regret to add that several of the
Firemen were severely burnt by lead,
which had melted andfallen from the rout.
Mr. Gardner, a gen tleinan belonging to
Engine No. 5, was seriously injured.
A late London paper says—“ The pro
visional Junta at. Madrid are on the point
of sending commissioners to South Amer
ica, to treat upon terms of accommoda
tion.”— Jh’at. Intel. ,
A question has arisen in what Is called
the “constitutional court of South Caroli
na,” \yhich, is believed, has never yet
been made before a judicial tribunal in
tlie Unitevl States. An execution had
been le vied, and the amount collected by
the sheriff, and tendered to the plaintiff
in copper cents, the coinage of the Mint of
the United States. The judge on the
circuit decided this to be a legal tender.
A motion was made to reverse Die decis
ion on the circuit, on the grounds :
Ist. That Congress have not the pow
er to make copper coin a legal tender.
2d. Admitting that Congress had the
power, the several acts establishing the
mint shew, that copper coin was not in
tended to be a legal tender.
The opinion of the court was deferred
until the next term.— lb.
Washington Citv, May 27".
Agreeably to the mode adopted by the
Navy Department of determining the
names of our vessels of war, under the re
solution of Congress, the Navy Commis
sioners proceeded on Thursday,we under
stand, to assign, by lot, the name to be
borne by the ship of the line just built at
New York. The name which she drew,
which, ofcour.se, from her rate, must be
the name of a state, was OHIO. She is
to be launched on Tuesday next.
Much has been said about the cost of
the Chandelier which lately fell ami was
-broken in the Chamber of the House of
Representatives, Some say it, cost 1300
dollars; some' that it cost three, four, or
live thousand dollars, it is not a matter
of much importance, but being a subject
of observation, it is well to state the fact,
that the cost was an hundred and fifty
pounds sterling, and no more. We hope,
if replaced at all, that the Boston manu
facturers will be gratified in their wish, to
furnish one of glass in lieu of that one of
metal, which is demolished.
The Lotuion Sun states, that tn conSe- t
qucnce of an application from the Austn- T
an Court, the British Government had
despatched orders to St. Helena for more
indulgent treatment of BoSapabte. The
same paper says, that young. Napoleon is
encouraged by his. grand father the Aus
trian Emperor, in entertaining the utmost
hatred of the English, on account of the a
imprisonment of his father. p
n I II
NEW YORK, May 26. s
Slave Trade. \
It affords us pleasure to announce, that a
the United States’ ship Cyane, Captain j
Trenchard, has captured four vessels, T
which were engaged in this, detestable f
trafic. The vessels captured arc the ]
schooners Plattsburgh, Science, (former- ,
ly one of our Pilot Boats) Endymion, and ,
Esperanza. The two former arrived at s
this port yesterday afternoon; the Esper- ,
an/.a and Endymion, arrived this morning. .
A meeting was held at Sierra Leone, on (
the 6th of March, for the furpose of for- (
ming an Agiicultmal Society. .
The following letter from a gentleman j
on board the Cyane, is copied from the
Mercantile Advertiser.
Os Cape Montsencda, ?
April 18,1820. 5
“We watered at Siena Leone, and pro
ceeded immediately to the southward.—
Since pit-*' ng Sherbro fsland, we have de
tained ten slaving vessels; four of which
we send in for adjudication, the others
being so well covered with false papers,
were given up- The number of vessels
engaged in this inhuman traffic is incred
ible: not less than 200 at present on the
coast, all of thetn fast sailers, well manned
and armed, and, I am sorry to add, many
of them owned by Arkansas, although un
der Foreign flags.
We have been constantly chasing night
and day since our arrival on the coast, and
sometimes have had several in sight at the
same time. We are this moment in chase
of a schooner called the Colodero, which
has escaped from us twice already, by ve
ry superior sailing, and I fear we Shall not
be able to come up withhar to day.
We have seen but one American tra
ding vessel on the coast,(the brig Chance
capt. Swan, from Boston) who has gone to
leeward. *
Copy of a letter from the American Con
sul at Cape de Vends to the editors of
the Boston Patriot, dated
Villa de Play a, St. Jago, March 31,1820.
Gentlemen —Accompanying this I trans
mit you a few numbers of the Sierra Le
on Gazette, from which you will perceive
that captured slave vessels are arriving
daily.
The Venezuelan privateer taken in
with prizes, 1 am informed by letters from
Sierra Leone, was the Irresistible, captu
red with two slave vessels her prizes, but
a compromise was made by the Irresisti
ble to relinquish to His Britannic Majes
ty’s ship Myrmidon, captain Leake, the
two prizes, and was permitted to proceed
on her cruize.
Capt. Tynes of the British Brig Kate.
ofßarbadoes, arrived here yesterday from
Sierra Leone, reports that he spoke at
, the mouth of (he river an American trans
port ship with blacks, but did not learn
her name. ‘
I have to lament the death of many gen
tlemen of his Britannic Majesty’s squad
ron on the coast the past season, particu
larly the surgeon of the Pheasant.
, SAMUEL HODGES, Jr.
From the Royal Gazette and Sierra Leone
Advertiser, published at Freetown and
forwarded by our correspondent.
Fheetowit, Feb. 12,1820-
On Saturday last H. M. ship Tartar, Com.
Sir George Collier, came into harbor, ac
companied by two prizes, a Dutch brig
and a large Spanish schooner, with about
ninety slaves on board.—The vessels were
taken in the Rio Pongos, by the boats of
the Tartar and Thistle, under the com
mand of Lieut s. Marsh and Hagan; the
remainder of the slaves to complete the
cargo we have heard were ready to em
bark at thes period when these vessels
were detained : it is therefore to be hop
ed, that the slave factors in the Rio Pbn
gos, will deliver them to Lieut. Hagan,
who, we understand, the Commodore has
left in that liver; and who, we trust, will
succeed in rescuing them from the fangs
of these horrid barbarians.
The Myrmidon, Capt. J. Lenke, came
in on Tuesday with five schooners detain
ed by that vessel and H. M; ship Morgiana,
Capt. Sandiland.—These vessels were
seized, we understand, contiguous to the
Gallinas, engaged in that abominable traf
rc—the slave trade. One of the schoon
ers has on board one hundred and five
slaves, the others had not completed their
cargoes.
It .s truly lamentable to reflect on (he
extent to which this traffic is now carried
on almost in our own neighborhood: in
deed it would appear, that the principal
mart of these nefarious traders seems con
fined, in a great measure, to a range of a'
few degrees north and south of- this co
lony.
Feb. 19.—Our harbor continues to pre
sent a most. gratifying aspect: vessels ar
rive daily, and others depart pregnant wit h
the fruits ofa legitimate commerce: the
meritorious exertions cf his Majesty’s
squadron in the cause of justice aiid hu
manity, have crowded the harbor with
slave vessels;—our streets, indeed, are
unpleasantly thronged with the unblush
ing wretches, the. slave traders, who, ha
ving set defiance to the laws of God, and
violated the ordinances of their own coun
tries, attend our markets, and would a
huse those very men whom they have torn
forever, we fear, from the home of their
childhood, and the scenes of their youth;
these vile trafficers in blood areas hostile
to liberty as they are devoid of shame. A
very short period will, however, we trust,
rid us of their hateful presence.
With sentiments of horror and shame
we notice the'report so widely circulated
of J O. Kearney, late a resident of'Kent,ha
ving joined the traffickers in blood- at the
Galinas.' Wc will give in our next, the
copy of an agreement found on board La
Matie, which leaves no doubt of the vile
transaction; but providence has turned his
wicked purpose* to the advantage of the
Africans, whose cause he betrayed. On
Friday last, one hundred and six individ
uals, of all ages, were landed as slaves
from that vessel, and arc now free at Wa
terloo,
J. O. Kearney has recently been ap
pointed a lieutenant in his Britannic Ma
jesty’s service, and detached by Govern
or M’Carthy to the Galinas with twenty
soldiers under his command to prevent
the slave trade, but was first to join in that
traffic:
rR!AL OF ARTHUR TH!STLe Wood
rhe following is an abstract of »i,
ceedings on the trial of This!
and is copied from the Boston Dailv J
vertiser. ™
ADAM’S EVIDENCE.
There were several staves in the t ’
apparently just cut, and Thistle,,v 00( i
pressed dissatisfaction tliat BradW* I! 1 ;
not brought the ferrules to put on
staves—meetings after this to,,* n , 6
twice a day, up to the 23,1 „f Febru
Witness recollected being at „.,h
about 10 o’clock before the funer 1
late King—Harrison said h e U nde2i
most of the soldiers would be out
at the King's funeral, as well as the p"
lice Officers, and that bfc thought ti
would be a good opportunity for kioti "
up a row—Tlfistlc wood acquiesced 2
suggested a plan for seizing two
cannon in Gray’s Innlane, and six in d
artillery ground; if this were well
ged, they might be in possession of iT
don before morning—even if an Um .
should be sent to Windsor for the ■ *
by the time they arrived in
would be toe tired to do any thing
that they might even prevent any oJ!
leaving London to communicate
Windsor. On Saturday 19th Pebruarvu
other meefn % took place in F ox C L"
and it was then agreed that Wednesih
23d should be. the day of operations-J
Thistlewood filled the determination as
attacking Ministers separately a t tlita
house, and forty men were consider,*
sufficient for this “West end job” —lt w *
also agreed that the Mansion' House diouS
be taken possession of, as the seat o f>
Provisional Government.—Tliistleitod
suggested that arms should be pmviS
immediately, in order to prevent surpri*
and Brunt added, that if an Officer pn!
sumed to make his appearance, he woui
run him through the body. Teeling, („
of those engaged in this transaction) w
to set fire to different buddings in dist;
ent parts of the Metropolis, while oth«
were employed in various other pla C 9
Brunt said,, that whatever lot fell i™
him to do in the “West end job” if t
failed, that man should die upon thespo
To this witness expostulated, and Biji
added, that if he displayed any coward*
lie should be run through. At the san
meeting it was suggested that Fumvil
Inn should be burnt down, and it wai ol
served, that-it would make a good &
On Monday, the 21st of February, anolU
party was held at witnessed who untl
nicated what he had heard from Hobbs,®
landlord of the While Hart Inn, rest)«■
ing Police having information oflifl
meetings. This caused great wrath,®
they accused him of throwing cold tn®
on their schemes. The following d»,l
another meeting, a man of the nwl
Edwards communicated, that a CabiiH
dinner was to be held at Lord Harrow
house the next evening. They all ny®
sed them joy at the news, and Brunt i®
“I’ll be d d if I dont believe inert®
God—l have often prayed that t®
thieves might be all together, in ordt®
De murdered, and now he has heard fl
prayer.” Thistlewood added; (lull
would be a rare bout to murder them®
and immediately drew up a plan to t®
it into execution. He was to get the dl
open himself by knocking, to msh in,®
throw hand grenades among the .Minis®
and to murder good and bail lf
were among them, they were to be ®
dered for keeping bad company.-®
was to be one of the foremost, and to I®
on the rest. He determined to u®
Lord Sidmouth, “Here is my Manck®
Cavalry,” and to say to his folk*®
“Lead on citizens, do'your duty.” H
determined, with his own butchers I®
to cut off the heads of every one of®
Ministers, and to carry away (Im®
Lords Castlereagh and bidmouth >n®
umpli, It would also be necessary!®
to the Telegraph over the water to®
possession of that, and to prevent any®
munication going to Woolwich; tu®
the mean time a provisional
might be formed, and steps taken >®
seaports, especially Dover, Biig^ 011 ®
Margate, to prevent anyone from > e ‘®
the place w ithout an order from the®
eminent, Brighton, he said, wast 7)®
important. An armed force must bt®
there, and he further added, that'he®
sent family had inherited the cro» n ®
enough, and it was of no use for the*
king ever to think of wearing the c t®i
Brunt and logs afterwards cane >*®|
the plan was commnnioated to them.™
they disapproved of it, and said tin t®
ing short of the assassination of the a®
tors would satisfy them. Brunt 0 ®
ness, two or throe of than had , ®
apian to assassinate ministers, t ®
cabinet dinner they had. .. <®
On Tuesday, April 18, Joseph
apprentice to Brunt, testified, *®
prisoner frequently came tn lirun • *®
He once saw twenty poles m tll ®.®
On the 23d of February, he sa* ll .®|
tor-and others put new flints in' o P®
He'procnred for his master six s°®
cartridge paper, and saw a pike *®
a sword. At 6in the evening I
away and at 9 returned very on ) ®
confounded. He said to his , ',,®j
up, I have saved rny life, and tlu ®|
Just as he said that, another win _®
and Brunt shook hands with
him whether he knew who 1,1,1 ®
The man answei e ! no. Brttn ®|
ted the next morning. yd®
Mary Rogers, John H Harrac
Samson and John Adams, s a
of circumstances in
John Monument, another
testified, that he met ®
weeks before the 23d of i nf ®
s Thomas Dwyer, an
that he saw Thistlewood a
February, and engaged wiU \
ter about twenty of his j®
. assist in the cause. , ver »l®
Captain Fitz Clarence,
Street officers, teßtlh I f tl . „ ar t °*® r
place in Cato street, "he ‘'i'ri'-
conspirators were arrested B
ticularshave that'*®'
Thomas Hydcn testified- *
Wilson, one of the P/ : »® ner L e ti> £ ®
vited by him a few day* b « y the®'
to be one of the P al , t J, t 0 t | ia t
isters. WiteontoU gU •
only waiting ibr » enS d e sj®.
intended to throw hand (SC3f *,
the ministers, and tho*
sword were tp go som an d
wards fires were to
some days, until the
al. The houses of Lord .l ;>■
Casllcreagh» l ori ■