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* tri&E “ A. a. HCERiV, , VOLUME IX. sm?rinm Union. PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING, BY A.jPr. MURRAY. OlEoo on Broad Street, West end the New Brick Range, (up-stair*.) TER M S : Two Dollar* and A half In Advance or Three Dollars at the end of sis month*. No subscriptions ta ken for leu than one year, unless paid in advance ; and B paper will be discontinued till all arrearages arc paid, except at the option of the publishers. ADVERTISE ME ATS Conspicuously inserted at ONE DOLLAR per square or the arst insertion and FIFTY CENTS for each subse quent continuance; A square in the Union, is the space ‘of ten lines in small type, containing, as it docs,one hun dred words. ... , , AUadvortiseincnts sentwithoutspccifyingthe numborof i mertions desired, will be continued until ordered out and charged for accordingly. Sheriff's sales under regular execution sand mortgage fi tfas. on real estate, must be published Outlays,. .....$2,50 Personal property under mortgage fi. fas. ■tnust be published 60 day Citations for letters of Administration 30. days, ....2,75 Tax Collector’s sales, 60 days 5,00 Notieeto Debtors ami Creditors. 40 “ 3,00 Sales of personal property of estates, 10 “ 3,00 Sales of Land orNcgroes “ 40“ .......4,50 Applications for leave to sell Land or Negroes ttust be published weekly for 2 months, 5,00 Notice for Letters Dismissory by Executors or Administrators, monthly for 6 mouths, 4,50 By Guardians, weokly for 40 days, 4.50 Estrays, 2 weeks, 1,50 Orders of Court of Ordinary to make title to Land, ac companied by a copy of the bond or agreement, must be published 3 months. - MISCELLANEOUS. From the .St. Louis Republican. DUTIES OF WOMAN. x LECTL'KE to voi.no ladies nv bev. W, C. ELLIOT, Jit. Her children rhail rise up ami* cai! h r Mewed: her husband, also, and he praiseth her.—[t*rov. xxxi, 2i. The object of tny lust lecture was to show that the best interests of society are, to a great extent, in woman’s keeping. In the departments of morality and religion, of refinement, of good taste, of philanthropy, of education, and of all the great agencies of civilization, she has at least .an equal share, both in the work to be done, and the end to be accomplished. If men would frankly acknowledg'd tnis, it would elevate her more highly in their estimation. They would respect her more, and pay more deference to lier opinions; they would take more pains to give her the advantages of education, so as to secure the proper use of that influence which, either for good or evil, she is sure to possess.— IVc fear that they are now more willing to pay tike tribute of admiration than of respect. They regard her only as a boiug to be cherished and protected, and whose loveliness is never so great as when she leans upou them for support. They take paius to please her very much as wo try to please children; she very often con sents to be pleased with toys and playthings and flattering words and unmeaning phrases, with dress, and equipage, jewelry, and other trifles, lavished upon her, quite as much through world ly pride as from sincere affection. It may be jdl right fa Its wav, nor do I speak bow with a w'iew to its condemnation; but when this kind f adulation, this money-bought worship, is the only or the best evidence of our respect, we are, iu fact, contributing to degrade her whom, for our own amusement, we seem to exalt, and treating her as a child whom wc ought to treat as an equal. It would be better if the adulation were less and the respect greater. She can dispense with the empty compliments, which men are skillful to use in proportion to the shallowness of their own brains, in consider-J atiouof receiving a more silent homage, the’ language of real esteem. We seldom compli-j ment directly those whom we respect, and when ever wc do so, it is with delicacy and hesitation, showing that wt feel ourselves to he upon dan gerous ground. The language of compliment is generally the langimge of superiority. We flat ter those whom we think beneath us, itnd who will therefore be pleased by onr notice and ap proval. Towards those who are above us more deferential language, and fewer words are used. Only when with our equals, whom we acknowl edge to be such, do wo offer and receive those expressions of cordial friendship and sympathy, which are more pleasant than any other form, in which praise can come. In the compliments which men pay so freely to the gentler sek, I am afraid that they give greater evidence oftheir own self-conceit and as sumed superiority than of any thing else. I think, therefore, that st‘ men would learn the real truth as to woman’s influence —that they them selves are moulded in mind, in affections, in cha racter, by woman’s hand —it would do them good, both by teaching them a lesson of modesty, juid by reminding them to be just before they talk so much of being generous. On tbo other hand, it is equally important to woman herself to nnderstand her true position. In civilised communities she actually exerting an influence to which no limit can be placed.— As I said in a for mg sbe k the Jaw-giv er of social tttoraßty ttandard of right and wrong in social intercourse, according to which men .bap* Jo which they conform “be may MMlMfl Ha* a s‘'Vt*Ej|'difler nlattqjfefegf all I “it “miupShat.— No can ffMlilh] TBOTilSrEginwmlhor and receive her copHE tion. Whether it be temperance or charity,’ re-* ligion or education, the most essential thing is to excite her interest and give to her correct ideas, arousing her to a sense of duty and re sponsibility. When that is done the battle is half gained, and what is more, it is the first half and umoat sore'to be. followed by Complete tri umph. If Woman felt this, it wb’uld'inspire her with greater self-respect; H would enable her to place the proper value oq,the flippant praise,’of which she if sow sometimes so fopd; to smile at the words of flattery, bat not on him who uses tbeni. She would feel herself entitled to higher respect than such words imply. * She would feet the responsibility which so great:in fluence imposes, arid prepare herself by self-edu cation ana religions self-aiacipline, for the “ditties which property devolve upon her. v * Let ustook then, more particularly at the different relations in read-life which woman actu ally holds, aud the important position in which’ she is placed. When we have done this, we shall be prepared to ask whether her education, as now generally conducted, is what it ought to be; aud 1 think that the answer to this question will be more evident than satisfactory. First, we speak of that sacred relation in which our love for her is mingled with venera tion ; in which, while she is living, if we are .wise, and certainly after she is dead, she becomes to our hearts almost as the saints in heaven, through our remembrance of her patient suffer ing, her unwearied love, her gentle nnd yet hopeful rebuke; her pleading voice when we were wrong; her sympathy when we were tempt ed; her readiness to forgive when we committed sin ; her tenderness when she wiped away our tears ; her gladness when she shared in our joys —and all the nameless but unforgotton tokens of a Mother’s Love. That is the gentlest, the sweetest word which falls fro.n human lips. It sjwaks of human re lation but mingled with religion itself. The great reason why’ the worship of the mother of Christ has obtained so strong a upssession of a large part of the chYktitui-ifoarid, is this, that the word excites a jrenmnflPlh the human heart, calling up he dearest associations, and tenderest affections, Jnkj*giving to men au opportunity of expressing,”in religious homage, the feelings of gratitude, penitence, of filial love, which the name of mother never fails to excite. How much we owe to her none can tell. The treasures of love which she has expended upon us, God only knows; for she herself is scarcely conscious how rich and inexhaustible they are. As she holds her infant smiling in her lap, her firstbrnn, anew existence has begun to She watches the half-formed smile, and her own smile answers it. She catches the first ray of intelligence, from eyes which look wondering upon this strange world into which the heavenly visitant has entered, and gaze* around uncer tainly, without expression, until the beaming light of the mother’s face is caught, and the first ray of conscious intelligence is but the reflection of a mother's love. From day to day, how care fully she guards him, and at night his gentlest movement arouses her to renewed watchfulness. His playfulness in health is her chief delight, and the distant approach of sickness fills her with dread. To say that she would die for him would be but little; she would die for him a thousand times, for the dearest charm in her own life is in the life of her child. The image of God’s providence is found in j the mother’s love. As lie is good to the un thankful and the evil, sober loveis never cat ran-; ged by our utmost waywardness, by oufc worst j desert. The love of an earthly father may some- j times be withdrawn, and the sternn'css-of his na j ture may trifle the sinful child from his presence, with words of anger almost like imprecation.— ! He may pronounce a curse which drives the of- i fender to despair. Hut the mother cannot curse:, her love cannot be withdrawn. The sorrow of j her child’s guilt has .pierced her heart, only to . make it more tender; her hand seeks to draw him back even when unwilling to return; her prayers are for him when lie will not pray for j himself; and upon her bosom finds a resting place, where he may again lay his weary head. : as confidently as when lie reposed it there in I the unquestioning trust of infancy. Hut if, escaping from the snares of sin, and strengthened under the temptations of the World, j her child grows up in the strength of virtue, in the purity of religion; if she sees her sons and daughters respected and useful and happy ; l>y their affection endeavoring to return their moth er’s love and shield her from harms so frequent to declining age ; then, who can tell the mother's joy, or the earnestness of her thanksgiving, ex cept the God before whom she kneels in silent gratitude ? That is indeed a blessing with which her cup runneth over. Her children are her pride, her joy, the jewels that encircle her brow, the ornaments more becoming to her age than any other, and her face, although it may show the lines of advancing years, retains its youthful ness of expression and a smile more lovely than that of youthjitself, when the names of her children are spoken of with praise, and the record of their usefulness brought to her ears. Oh ! if we could but understand the depths of a mother’s love, the complete disinterestedness of her strong affection, the days of our early life would be stained with fewer sins, and our mem mory in after days less heavily burdened. If we would but understand how heartless it is, for the sake of some transient pleasure, some worth less dissipation, for the indulgence of a whim, or the gratification of ungoverned temper, to send the pang of grief to that loving heart, to bring the shade of mortification over that hopeful face, we should bo more careful in our pleasures, more reluctant to do wrong. There is no method by which we can pay the debt of gratitude to her, except by hves which aro an answer to her prayers for our sake. If she hears of our disappointment she is sad; our sorrows and bereavements are hers not less than our own; but these, she strives to learn us ToTecetve as Ihe discipline of Hod’s providence; for her good and for ours. But our sins lie like a weight upon her soul. To our departure from Goa she cannot reconcile herself. That is a grief aheacarcely knows how to bear and under which her grey hairs are brought down in aor-J row to the grave. Let me appeal to yon . wj§|g arsytottnc, for her sake. Let your thoughtless-1 tfoteh* checked, let your folly be Rayed. Ifj Sr for God’s rekpstteKfor Christ’s sake, for yott#l KotherWa^hdd Wk WHRhßtfTtr*tn-M Lay riot up for yourMlMlpPPtoTe of repent ance winch comes from the rcmembraucc of a mother's grief, a mother’s unanswered prayers! While I speak, we feci how great must be the influence of a mother's character upon us; that if she is a faithful woman, God-fearing and God trusting, we boooree almost as wax in her hands, softened by the warmth of her love, moulded by her gentle touch, until we grow to ihe years of mature lift), und find ourselves in a great degree what she has made us, we would not say abso lutely that it depends upon her wliat her chil dren shall be in time and eternity, for that would be attributing to human strength more than it oan properly claim. Our best skill and wisdom, even the influence of a good example sometimes fail. ChUdren who are educated under the moat judicious system and for whom no pains ,re spared, sometimes disappoiht all our hopes; while those who are. moat neglected aud under tte want iofluencM Os bad example in their pa ne nteand of depravity in tbe worid arc snatched ■ aHßHffi it •/*’ .jr- Jks’ . . v ( "Vw-rHA. Vi’-'.’ GRIFFIN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 16, 1854. like brands from the burning, and grow up in pie ty and usefulness. We must not therefore feel that it depends upon us alone. We are not suf ficient to ourselves in anything, least of all in the performance of our duty as parents, and if there is any one to whom tfie command to pray without ceasing is especially enjoined, it is the Christian mother, when her children ore around her. She cannot feel too strongly, in her fami ly, the necessity of God’s grace, girding and protecting those she loves. Moreover, in speaking of the mother’s influ ence over her children, we must remember that her wisest efforts arc sometimes defeated by in fluences which she cannot control. I have I known instances in which the father lias taken i pains, even in their early childhood, to lead them in the paths of wickedness, to teach them con tempt for religion, to repeat for their learning words of blasphemy, to carry them into had company ami to place them at six years old upon the counter of a bar-room to learn the fit lesson of drunkenness. In such a case shall the mother be blamed for the fruitlessness of her efforts, or should we expect anything but tlio reverse of her child ? and even in cases less flagrant than this, a bad temper and tyranical disposition, will bring almost as bad results. The labor of direct ing her children and governing them, is some times left exclusively to the mother without any ns ; sistance from herhusband, and is sometimes made almost hopeless by his angry interference. Un der such circumstances human strength shrinks from the task, and nothing but a mother’s love would undertake it. But notwithstanding all this, we sometimes ec the *u<Seia us the Christian mother, in the midst of the greatest difficulties, j training up her sons and daughters in the love | of truth, in the practice of goodness and religion, i when the father has thrown the whole weight of | his precept and example on the side of wicked | ness; and I have felt, at such times, that a moth er's influence, if wisely and prayerfully exerted, is second only to that of God himself. Let her not despair. Still let her bo hopeful against hope, and her love, through the blessing of God will ultimately prevail. Seldom, however, is her work so discouraging. Generally, she has a better field of w orking, in w hich a moderate decree of exertion, together with a true Christian character in herself, will secure an answer to her prayers. In the majority of families, other influences are not very decided, ! either forgood or evil, and become one-or the [ other according to that of the mother’s character. ! The atmosphere which her children breathe is that of religion or irreligion, of worlliness or of i piety at her bidding. They may advance it) j goodness almost by a natural grow th, and from i their early lisping of the Lord's Prayer till their j characters are confirmed in goodness, her hand I leads them so gently that they do not know how j i much they owe to her, until they themselves, ; have children to guide. I heard it said of one i who was eminent in goodness, that it. was inipos | sible to understand how lie could be so pure, so j excellent, until you hadseen and known his moth er; but that in her face and manners, you would lat once read the whole history. Perhaps it was | not saying too much. It is difficult to estimate | how large a portion of the excellence of the best j men is due to the mother’s counsel, and is thc-re -1 flection of a mother's character. \Vc do not need ]to be taught that the mother of Howard was a j j good woman, and that the mother of Washing ton is revered in history almost as much as Washington himself. 1 know very well how commonplace are these J remarks. If they were not commonplace they • would not be Worth making. It is their univer sally acknowledged truth that gives them impor tance. It is a demonstration of what we wish to prove that the mother is the chief instrument in God’s hands, for the moral aud religious training of the young. Youwillsc.aroelyaecu.se ine of exaggeration in saying, that if this influence can he made right, all other influences will come right. If this influence is wrong, no other can counter act it. It is strictly true, that all our efforts in philanthropy aim to accomplish, imperfectly, what the mother alone can accomplish well. On the ether hand, there must lie another side ito tlie picture. The frivilous and heartless wo ! man, who makes religion secondary to fashion, who pursues pleasure so eagerly as to forget her duty, who neglects her children and entrusts their moral guidance to servants, or leaves it to chance, is unworthy of the place she holds, and if her children grow up well, it is a blessing she does not deserve. Nor is such a result at all probable. There lives begin wrong and under wrong influence, and they grow up in that world liness and irreligion which scarcely seems to them wrong, because commended by their moth er’s example. It is a rare thing for the son of an irreligious woman to become religious. It is a rar<r thing for the daughter of one whose chief glorv is the ball room, and to whom the pleasures of home seem tame unless its quiet is changed to revelry, to becorao anything else than an indifferent copy of a bad Originate _’ ~~— Legal Authority.—On a recent occasion, at Trial nf ■ nmaa linfnrn • a*. l. n Ponnii Hie trim ox a case oeiore a justice 01 ~u*e a oace in Louisiana, some rather novel Authorities were cited by one of the “learned counsel.” For cx .^T^’Couk'^^etTe, 5 ’ he said; “that in thg raw of Shylpck w \ii -nio.Although judg jjjMHmt wtßynjMrcd injavor of pnHKf'jrCt cir 9bnistancerPeveritcd the executioiHpiw bad issued from being carried into effect?^ “What case,” asked, the justice tleman refer to f” “Sliylock vs. Antonio, 2d Shaks., p. 235, John son’s edition. The Court will there find the case reported in full.” The “learned counsel” went on to apply the case to that of his client; but, whether the ‘Court’ considered the authority sufficient, has not yet. transpired, - - ■ , . A Mr. Swift, of Dublin, has an invention by which he can progress through the water in> an upright position at die rate of five miles an hour. The apparatus consists of two-air-tight tin floats of twenty feet long, tapering to, a. narrow point at each end. and joined together by two bars of irori! The mode by which it n propeited by a doq* ble-bladed oar,, eighteen feet in length, which is made ,to ply windmill iashion by the occupant, who stands in the centre.’ An exponent was fah, ly successful, arid Mr. Swift a loudly applaud ed on his arrival at Aden. *• Prove all thliipt lioltl fast that whirl* l ffooil.” —I’aM An Interprid Chambermaid. Galignani’s Messenger tells the following cu rious story. Annette, a young chambermaid of Marne, had kept the room of two wealthy bache lors for several years. She wanted to get married, but her lover was so poor she dare not venture. These bachelors were brothers, undone day they had sold some property which they owned jointly, and the money amounting to lOti.OOOi., was sill in bills of the Bank of France,too late to take it to Paris that afternoon. At midnight a great noise was heard in tin house. Annette ran and rapped at the door, saying that robbers were at. work below. ‘You have a gnn.’savs she, ‘take it and shoot the villians.’ Both the bachelors were much frightened:— One began to barricade the door, while the oth er removed a tile from the hearth in order to secret Ihe bank bills. ‘Fools.’ said the girl, they will murder us all— give me the gun!’ She seized a double barreled gun w hich laid upon the shelf, and started downstairs, the two frightened men watching her movements w ith out saying a word. Presently, bang went the gun, and a groan was heard—bang went the second barrel, and now a screach of pain resound 1, ed through the house. Annette soon came tripping up the stairs, and asked for powder and ball to reload. The aston ished bachelors gave ber the requisite charges, but soon steps were heard retreating from tin house. All three went cautiously down stairs, when lo ! a pool of blood showed that one rob . ber at Least ..had jmid.tke.pcudty,.of.Jik. rash at tempt. In (lie morning it was plain to see that the body of the victim had been dragged to thr river. Blood marked the whole distance, and the police were instantly on the alert for the ar rest of the living thieves, and the recovery of the body of the dead one. All was in vain, however; but the interpidity of tins young girl was discus sed far and near. The grateful bachelors, knowing Annette wan ted to marry, prepared to give her a dower. “Ah! Monsieur,” replied she ‘how can I leave you ?—you may be again attacked by the robbers.’ ‘But we will not, nevertheless, stand between you and happiness, here are thirty thousand francs—you have saved our lives aud richly de serve the money If you choose to live m this house with your husband we shall repair the lower part tor that purpose, and you then can be paid for keeping our rooms neatly, as at pres ent.’ Annette did not hesitate to accept the dower and the house. It was many years before the real facts relative to tins midnight attack of robbers came to light. The rich bachelors were then both dead, and had willed Annette another thirty thousand francs. The robbers, it seems, were not of the plural number, but only Annete’s lover alone.— Tbe blood was from a lamb, killed for the occa sion. Indeed, the whole was but a ruse, by the two lovers, to open the hearts and purses of the rich bachelors. Incidents of a Battle. —Some English gards men who were in the battle of Waterloo, relat ed to Hayden, the painter, (he follow ing anec dotes 0 f the thickest of the fight. They present war in all its horrors: ’ “The description of the men was simple, char acteristic and poetical; They said that when the life guards and cuirassiers met, it was like the ringing of ten thousand blackswith’s anvils. One of them knew iny models, Shaw and Dakin, lie saw Dakin while fighting on foot with two cuirasseirs, also on foot, divide both their heads with cuts five and six. He saw Bukin ride out, foaming at the mouth, and cheered on his troop. In the evening he saw Dakin lying dead, cut in pieces. Dakin sat to me for the sleeping groom ou his knees in Macbeth. Another saw Shaw fighting with two cuirras siers at a time. Shaw, he said, always cleared his passage. He saw him take an eagle, but lost it afterwards; as when any man got an ea gle, all men near him on both sides left off fight ing, nnd set on him who had the eagle. lie went on himself very well, but riding too far, was speared by a lancer, and fainted away. Recov ering, he sat upright, when three or four lancers saw him, rode at him, and speared him till they thought him dead. He remembered nothing till revived by the shaking as they carried him to the yard of La Ilayc Sainte. There he heard someone groaning, and turning round, saw Shaw, who said : “I am dying, ibv ride k torn off by a shell.” His comrades told us how lie had swooned away, and being revived by their taking him up to be carried to BniMela at day break, lie saw poor Shaw dead, ‘with his cheek in hk hand; ■ - - - Corporal Webster, of the second life guard, saw Sliawgire kk first cut- A* he was getting do ground in the fcpUw re*i, a man recovered, cut him right through “hi* bras* helmet and ha &ce fell off him like all. standing sriffet brer iuchk(aperfeJs*M*, les,) charged Mw t artillery of sixteen crying on their h <*-’JMP*iDg back a whole, French regi mcntppgjjßand let him pass at full gallop, and (ben i gave him a volley, and never hit mSpi first man who stopped him waa an Irish man hi the French service. He dashed at him, and said, “D —n you, I’ll stop your crowing.”— Hodgson said he was frightened, bejiad never fought any body with swords. Watching the cuirasser, however, he found he could not move his. horse so quick aa he could; so, letting go the reina, ana guiding hk horse with his knees, as die euirassier gave point at lik throat, Hodg son cut his sworn hand off, and dashed hk sabre through hk throat, catling it round and round. The first cut be gave him was on the ’ cuirass, which he thought was silver lace. The shock neatly broke htTarra. “D—n me,” he added, “now I have found out the way, I soon - gave it them.” Aa Hodgson rode back, after behjg fired at, ah officer encountered him, Hodgson cut at the naps, and, as it dropped dead, a.bald beadand white ham. TWoffset begged 1 was approaching at the gallop, so Hodgson , cleared his head in two with a Mow’, nnd escaped. The recollection of the white hairs 1e- t<44 us pained, him often. Before he got back to the British line a lancer officer charged him, and missing his thrust came right on Hodgson and his horse. Hodgson got clear, and cot his head off at the neck, at one blow, and the ln-ad dropped on his haversack, where lie kept tin blood stain.” —- From the Haiti more Sun. Horrible Cruelties to Mrs. Wilson, while a Captive among the Indians, A\ e have already announced the escajio nnd , return of Mis. Jane Wilson, of Texas, to Santa ; Fe. who had been taken captive by the Gatnanehe j Indians, and subjected to the must extraordinary j cruelties. The affair has very justly excited the greatest indignation in New .Mexico against the ! Indians. I From Mrs. Wilson’s narrative, it nppeare that : she is but 1 7 years of age. About a year ago she ! was married to a young farmer in Texas, and in April they joined a party of fifty-two emigrants, hound for California. They were attacked by Indians and (lie party wo* compelled to return to Texas; but Mr. and Mrs. Wilson remained at iFI Paso, where their horses being stolen, they were compelled also to give up the plan of going to t’alifornia, and set out on their return to Tcx jas in July. In August, Mr. Wilson and his fu ! thcr fell into the hands of Indians and were niur -1 tiered. Mrs. W. returned toKl Paso, and again in Septeinlicr started fur Texas, with her three 1 brothers-in-law and a small party. When w ith in three days journey of Phantom Hill, an Amcr | iean military post, they were attacked bv t’a manchcs, while some of their men were off in pursuit of some of their hores that had been {stolen, A Mexican, who was with Mrs.-Wilson, : was brutally murdered and scalped before her eyes, and she and her two brothers-in-law, lads of twelve and ten years, v ,re seized, bound, and carried off, with the entire property of the parly. The Indians, with their captive*, proceeded in a Northwest direction, each being appropriated as the property of one or the other of the chiefs. They were stripped of nearly ail their clothing, and otherwise brutally treated. Mrs. Wilson al though expecting soon to become a mother, was subjected to every conceivable cruelty and indig nity; beaten and bruised; exposed to fatigues of all kiudsflu-r tlc.-b lacerated by lariats and w hips, or by tile loads of wood she was obliged to carry oil her bare back: compelled to the work of men, or punished for her inability by being stoned, knocked down and triuuiß'lled ou; almost entire ly deprived of food—and all this lasted for twen ty-five days. At this time, she was sent in ad vance in tiie morning as usual, when she deter mined to attempt an escajie, which site suc ceeded in accomplishing, by secreting her self in some hushes until the Indians had pass ed. For twelve days she wandered through this In dian country, subsisting upon berries, when she fortunately fell in with some New Mexican tra ders, who furnished her with some men's clothing and a blanket In consequence of their meeting with a Camauche, they had to leave her behind, and she narrowly escaped a second capture. But, by the aid of one of the traders,a J’ueulo Indian, she was enabled after hiding herself for eight days, to escape. At the expiration of this time she was rescued by the traders, furnished with • horse, and brought to the town of l’ecos New Mexico, where Major Glarenton and oth ore, of the army, took care of her and enabled her to proceed to Santa Fe. This is but an outline of a terrible atory, the coutorpart of which, in all cxeept tho escape, ate said to be frequent. A letter from Sauta Fe says that the white captives among the Camanches arc as numerous us the. Indians themselves. The same letter mentions the escape of a young Mex ican woman who returns after a year’s terrible captivity, expecting to become the mother of an infant w hose father is a wild Indian. The Ca nmnehes practice cruelty in iU utmost refinement towardstlictr captives. Children aro trained to be more savage than they are themselves, and women are subjected to outrages too horrible to be mentioned. , . - $S- The Sauta Fe Gazctto says : ‘’The two broth ers of Mrs. Wilson are yet m captivity, and unless soon reclaimed, wit! imbibe a taste for.the wild life of the Indian, and be forever lost There aro many hundreds, and we may venture to say, thousands of captives among tlie Indians of-JTew Mexico, principally women and children; the for? iner are forced to “become staeesof the men, nod the hitter ate.trslned for warriors.” When Opt! Merri weather came out, he’ Srtlf’ fortmtegrimoogh to rescue two Mexican girts ftmtiTTO^Gamancbes—one sixteen and the other eighteen years of age. They had been cantered from hear Chihuahua, om three yean and the other ten months before. They were sent to the Governor of that State, who acknowiedmril jiie conduct of the Governor of New Mexico in very handsome fffkte J They wl U*ASjjMgAngc j jygjl on horelH or. tl:: • U caught it on liiojgrfl. i* \*i A<i at full tookvHHßpK, aivllip& ed it arounu ‘ ( • Surely our Governmeßt wfll not permit such outrages to go unpunished, even if ft be neces sary to exterminate the tribe of there bra-., tal savages. _ ’ - % ..V‘a*V * v - - : . How Cincinn itti Beoame City. In the settlement of new countries, it often lup* pen* that tfte most trivial circumstances produce Important results. - According ttfJudge Burnet’s “Notes ou the North Western Territory,” the question whether North Bend or Cinchrosti should be tbs great commercial town of the Mi ami country was derided by the fact that the commandant of tbe military station at North Bend became strongly attached to a “black-eyed lady,” who lived with? bier hnsbsnd at; the Bend where he w* stationed; and the husband becom ing somewhat Alarmed Jt the irtiidk the commandant paid to his wife, (rinotfo&Ho on their departed, and that of Cincinnati arose. JsdjM . Burnet remarks: (page &e.j “The incotnpnrnhW * beauty of a Spartan dam* predated a tea - war which terminated in the destruction oflkfj 3 and the irresisUblsebarirerisnodsw female terete furred the commercial emporium of Ohio ta Jg the place where it now it.- If Uni 1 American Helen had continued at the Bend, thd jj garrison would have been erected there— tion, capital and busmen* would baro been njjjmn lered there, and thence it would bar* been 9KH Queen city of the Went.” Wins after tliia wfll * say that woman w of no importance of fortune!— Cin. Gazettee. , > Sacrilegious BiftwVMM. , -|jj Wc have just heard c t an’ awfm transaction j perpetrated in this city, which satisfied na then- are as ninny “ bad yoong men” in onr eftfiil as there were years ago. M. ——, the paiMßs of one of our African churchea, is ceWifstidlH the fiery qualities of Iris pulpit eloquence. TMfIJ row-lyish voting gentlemen had sometimes, into the gallery of the sanctuary, where officiates,*for the naughty purnoae sing themselves with the devotional txsidllWg , the (ailortd minister and his congregation. OMy serving that the zealous preacher dwelt tteJtS much on pyrotechnic illustration*, these wMvS ed youths determined to give the audience thing practical in the same way, and with -IhttS intention, they pDx'ured the handle of a tin the hollow of which they filled with “ wild a preparation made by mixing gtm-powder a#gj water, then drying it sufficiently to admit ifil’ J tion. The trio provided with the diabolical CM** * trivaiicc, took their vuslomary iiieltlosi ia a oo*> J ner of the gallery, near the pulpit, and waited | for a favorable opportunity to illustrate thatete’* men with a blazing cxbibi'tioa. That oppwlwi ty was soon offered them. The speaker bad jwA commenced n sentence with “’Bpoaci d* JIW was to ’pear now ’inongst you wicked U%gteh with a blaze of fire wrapped round ten Ml a cloak f” when tie- young sinners towdbad their fire-works with a friction roatA - gtlfi dt* -y reacted the muzzle of the tube toward*theprwmlft erV <lesk. Instantly n terrible crepitatioli wa* Whd the whole pulpit was involved ia a dmapUMf of-moke rdii-vcd by a shower of tpSßhauad • lurid glare of blue fire that wowld hwrw IHMdMh 4-d the reputation of anew patomitML gregntion, with w ild shrieks andexdagpßWjrijp- i “ile il-5.il base..me for Slirtin 1” Atb, wards the door; but in that tryingmobMl A* - appearance of tbe j*rencher liimself, * tee®* ~ tacle of moral sublimity. Ilk hiag* iMoii face appeared with undisturbed'Setwiit^oßteldte” 1 ’ the gleaming liorrom at hk “ sulphutek^,, pv,” as he sbouti-d out, “ Blaze ‘ - hi ate away! you can’t rile di cluCBMt •# you can fix it !”—Albany Traimrlptt ‘* A Cask.—Miss Fitmancy —ekkriy } charged Mr. Cleaver, the gay jotng ejan whw was accustomed to carry home her aflmhtlin{ff with having forcibly kissed her iff the her own house. Mr. m his personal appearance, waft short— very she#— considering hia whiskeiwl hie height, tWKm French boots, reached only to four feet fe*m| 1 inches. Miss Fitxnancy, on the contrary,brfng fond of extreme*, ran’ up ■ foot higher— stayed them'; being of rematkablf ngiffdifpE : ment. Bhe swore the abbreviated, JrCt ameeafll butcher kissed her Iby assenlt end felMMw up for it. Butcher—with some etpwmton m disgust, more emphatie than necessary - denied the charge. Butcher wes^h#—hjdy wmn’t. ‘ Cleaver had antipathy to what he inwnMk. termed—“ scraggy” women, and rowed Jflr hadn't kissed her, and wouldn't! MontgttmUnH hire him to. *] Being cross examined, lawyer imjtnme of the lady tltc circumstances —when, wharw, Ww, fee Lady replies with great particalarity >’ dknMWS day morning—ten o’clock —in the toil all she could, but he permveced,WßjltifempJ|pj ed 1 Lawyer asks—‘Bid not hejf|Mmd%dMP|| thing but the floor!’ £ ‘No I he stood on the floor—no eWh'ittfll f or anything else being brought tron.’ • - 1 •But, my dear madant, that i aro twelve inches taller than him., How 1 ho reach your lip V ’ * Lady hadn’t thouglit of that, Its AffH/JiiilT.,-V to be tripped by the glibbest 1 so she retdie*—- l Oh 1 an! well—l know—yml’ but then vou know -/mMMmH ‘Exactly ! Tl.ank you, madwfcv* 1 ‘Nothing further, ‘four heats Verdict for tbc piort ueH ” ’ .JjjS “ ‘J'\ power to Washmgtoj w^hbeW** obtaining the consent of tfaa swfdilhHdMH ho will take the Chiefs on ton for the pr,.-cofvottchhlog sAreaty. jwition to j Tcrntwy- It is that irthe’Slte* ibSkw SI | inaha. • ‘’ ‘ . - i. j meats for the army, r. tary of War, wiU he army! wUhtlfe Pupsiitsr NUMBER 12