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NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE.
]). . COTTOO, Editor.
No. 25.— NEW SERIES.]
_News and Planters ’ Gazette.
terms:
Published weekly at Two Dollars and Fifty
Cents pur annum, ii paid at the lime ot iSubstii
bmg ; or Three Dollars if not paid till the expi
rution of three months.
No paper to bo discontinued,unless a the
option of the Editor, without tiie settlement of
all arrearages.
U* Litters, on business, must he post/aid, to
insure attention. A 'o communication shall he
■published, unless toe lire made acqvaintea with
(he name of the author.
TO ADVERTISERS.
Advertisements, not exceoditigone square, first
insertion, Seventy-five Cents; and for each sub
sequent insertion, Fifty Cents. A reduction u ill
be made of twenty-live per cent, to those who
advertise by the year. Advertisements not
limited when handed in, will be inserted till for
bid, and charged accordingly.
Sales of Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad
ministrators and Guardians, are required by law,
to be advertised, in a public Gazette, sixty days
previous to the day of sale.
The sales of Personal Property must be adver
tised in dike manner, forty days.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate
must bo published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to ihe
Court of Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Ne
groes, must bo published for four months—
notice that application will be made for Letters
of Administration, must be published thirty days;
and Letters of Dismission, six months.
Mail Arrangements.
POST OFFICE, >
Washington, Ga., Sept. 1, 1843. $
EASTERN MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Raytown,
Double-Wells, Crawfordville, Cainaek, Warren
ton, Thompson, Dearing, and Barzelia.
ARRIVES.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 9, A. M.
CLOSES.
Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at P M
WESTERN MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for all Offi
ces in South-Western Georgia, Alabama, Mis
sissippi, Louisiana, Florida, also Athens, Ga. and
the North-Western part of the State.
amoves—Wednesday and Friday, by fi A. M.
closes— Tuesday and Thursday, a: 12 M.
ABBEVILLE, S.C. MAIL.
By.this route, Mails are made up for Danburg,
*lpistul Creek, and Petersburg.
ARRIVES.
Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, by 1 P. M.
CLOSES.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at ti A. M.
LEXINGTON MAIL.
Bv this route, M tils are made up for Centre
ville, State Rights, Scuil-shoais, and Salem.
arrives —Monday and Friday, at 9 A. M.
closes —Tuesday and Saturday, at 9 A. M.
APPLING MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Wrights
boro’, White Oak, Walker’s Quaker Springs.
arrives —Tuesday and Saturday, by 9 A. M.
closes —Monday and Friday, at 9 A. M.
ELBERTON MAIL.
By this route, Mails arc made up for Mallo
rysville, Goosepond, Whites, M. 11-Stone, Ilarri
souville, and Ruckersville.
Arrives Thursday 8 P. M., and Closes same time.
LINCOLNTON MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Rehoboth,
Stoney Point, Goshen, Double Branches, and
Darby’s.
Arrives Friday, 12 M. | Closes came time.
O’ The Letter Box is the proper place to de
posite all matter designed to be transported by
Mail, and such as may be found there at the
times above specified, will be despatched by first
post.
palmer & McMillan,
TAILORS,
HAVE removed to N0.4, Bolton’s Range,
on the West side of the Public Square,
where they will be happy to see all their friends
and customers.
December 21,1843. 17
For Sale*
C'IORN, FODDER, BACON and LARD.
J Apply to
A, S. HAYES.
February], 1844. 23
If "tikes Agricultural Society.
rpllE Semi-annual meeting of this Society
JL will be held held in Washington, on Friday,
the 16th instant. The members are requested
to attend as the election of officers will take place
and other business of importance transacted.
L. J. GARTRELL. Soc’y.
Feb’y. 8.1844. 24
Notice to Debtors and Creditors.
ALL persons indebted to the Estate of Joseph
G. Dupriest, late of Wilkes county, deceas
ed, are requested to make immediate payment,
and those having demands against the estate
will present the same in terms of the law.
B. A. ARNETT, Adm’r.
January 11, 1844. fit 20
COTTING &, J3UTLER,
ATTORNIES,
HAVE taken an OFFICE on the North
side of the Public Square, next door to
the Branch Bank of the State of Georgia.
October, 1843. 28
EVERY VARIETY
OF
vautsnmra*
EXECUTED AT THIS
OT fS <9 i „
From Godey’s Lady's Book.
TOO CONSCIENTIOUS TO DANCE.
BV T. S. ARTHUR.
“May I Imvc the pleasure of your hand
for the next cotillion, Miss Anderson?” said
a Mr. Green, addressing a young lady
to whom he had been introduced at an eve
ning party.
“Thank you, sir, I never dance,” was
the somewhat grave reply, and the young
lady drew hack her head with dignity.
‘Never dance!” the young man said, in
a slight tone of surprise, seating himself
beside Miss Anderson as he spoke. “I
thought all young ladies danced.”
“No, sir. All do not dance. I know
very many who never engage in any thing
so idle and trifling as dancing.”
“Idle and trifling! What do they do.
pray at evening patties?
“Engage in rational and instructive con
versation, sir. Life is too serious a matter
to waste in mere dancing. We are placed
here for higher purposes. For my part 1
think (lancing sinful.”
“Dancing sinful!” ejaculated the young
man. “Excuse me, Imt 1 should he glad
if you would point out in vvliat its sinful
ness consist.”
“It is a waste of time, for one thing, and
that is sinful. And then it is a mere a
musement. Every reflecting mind must
see that the design of our Creator in placing
us here, had reference to something above
idle pleasure taking—and any deviation on
our part from that design must he sinful.”
“Yes but remember, that all work and
no play make Jack’s a dull boy.”
“A mere idle saying.”
“Not at all, Miss Anderson. It is a
truth, expressed though it he in homely
phrase, and one of very general application.
Mind as well as body needs recreation.”
“But not such recreation as dancing.—
Surely you will not call jumping about on
i the floor to the music of a piano or violin,
I conduct for a rational being. Look now,
jat that cotillion! Is it not hard to convince
I yourself that the young ladies ami eeiitlc
inen who compose it are really in their
senses?”
“And so vou think it sinful to dance?”
Mr. Green said after pausing n moment or
two to refllect whether or no it would not
be wasting words to endeavor to convince
the young lady, that dancing was not only
innocent in itself, but really useful to those
j who participated in it with rational mode,
ration. IJis conclusion was not to waste
his arguments.
“Certainly 1 do,” was the emphatic an
swer.
‘•Then, ifyou think it sinful, vou ought
not to participate in it bv anv means,” lie
said gravely. yHut as Ido not, and ns my
heels and toes have felt extremely restless
ever since the music commenced, I must
seek out s omc *one who is less conscien
tious than yourself.” and so saving Mr.
Green arose, and slightly bowing, turned
away in search of a partner. In his next
oiler he was more successful.
■‘O yes. 1 knew she would’nt refuse?”
Miss Anderson remarked sarcastically, to a
young lady by her side, as she saw Mr. G.
with liis partner complete anew set. “Su
rah Ellery would dance all night if she
could get a partner. She’s a forward bold
kind ofa girl any how! I never could bear
her. She would laugh and dance at a fu
neral 1 believe. 1 should lie sorry indeed,
il I had all her idle words to answer for.
A serious thought, I don't suppose, ever
passed through her head. And just see
how foolishly she dances. What use I
should like to know, is there in that bunch
of flowers in her hair# Or in those rosettes.
And Iter sleeves too; did you ever sec such
unbecoming tilings? But they’re the last
fashion, and that's all she cares about. And
there’s Emeline Crawford in the same
cotilkcn. She'd a great deal better be at
homo attending on her sick sister. Just
look at Mary Walker’s waist! Isn’t she
laced to death! It really makes me angry
to see girls act so. She thinks Henry Ja
cobs admires a small waist, and so screws
herself up to please his eye. It’s too bad!
Well, thank goodness! I never was such
a simpleton. And there’s Caroline Mur
ry with her sister’s dress on! Or, I sup
pose, they have but one good dress be
tween them, and go out alternately. It is
certain you never see them together.”
“Pei haps there is a reason why they can
not both leave home together, suggested the
lady by her side.
“No doubt of it,” said Miss Anderson.
“That one dress is the reason, depend on it!
You wouldn’t catch me out in any body
cdse’s dress I know! I’d be above going
into company unless I could appear in
my own clothes.”
“Are you particularly acquainted with
Caroline Murray and Iter sister?” asked
tiie lady.
“No—nor do 1 wish to be. I never keep
company with girls of their frivolous char,
acter.”
“Why do you call them frivolous, Miss
Anderson?”
“Look and judge for yourself. There
is Caroline now before you. Watch her
face for ten minutes at a time, and see if it
has once a serious expression. Listen to
her conversation and note if she utters a
serious word. All is froth and chaff'.”
“You do not know Miss Murray 1 find,”
was the lady’s quiet reply to this. “Ifyou
did, you would estimate her differently.”
This rebuke offended Miss Anderson,
and she replied a little warmly—
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING.
WASHINGTON, (WILKES COUNTY, GA.,) FEBRUARY 15, ISM.
“I am not in the habit of forming a wrong
estimate of people, a tree is readily known
by its fruits.”
“Justly said,” returned the lady by her
side, and then, as neither of them felt much
inclined to continue in conversation with
the other, a prolonged silence followed.
After Mr. Green had danced long e
nough to satisfy his excitable heels and
toes, and bad thought over, in the mean
time, Miss Anderson’s objections to the
innocent amusement in which a large pro
portion of tlte younger members of the com
pany were engaged, lie felt curious to have
a little more talk with her, and so took a
vacant seat by her side.
“Can’t 1 prevail upon you to he mv part
ner in the next set ho said jocosely.
“No, sir, you cannot!” was the prompt
reply, while not a feature relaxed from its
dignified half offended expression.
“I wish l could induce yon to get upon
the floor. I ftm sure you wouM f“°! better,
urged Mr. Green good humored] v.
“If you arc so anxious to dance Mr.
Green, you can get plenty of partners
There is Caroline Murry. Site’s always
in ihe market for a cotillion.” This was
said with a very perceptible sneer.
Now Mr. Green was in the habit of say.
ing plain things in a plain wav to almost
every one. He meant no offence; hut it
was a failing with him—so many of his
friends thought—to speak out upon nearly
all subjects the exact truth as it appeared
to him. It was this peculiarity of bis char
acter which caused him to reply, notwith
standing Miss Anderson was only a mere
acquaintance after this fashion.
“Well now, Miss Anderson, to speak out
the plain trntli ns it strikes me, I don’t think
dancing at all to he compared as an evil,
with the spirit that prompts us to speak tin
kindlv and censoriously of each other.—
Caroline Murry might dance with every
voung man in the room, and yet lie perfect
ly innocent; but vou cannot indulge in
the temper that caused you to allude to her
as you did just now, without committing
sin.”
“Honestly and justly spoken, Mr. Green!’
said the lady to whom Miss Anderson had
so freely indulged her ill natured remarks.
“1 find we are setting two parties in our
evening social assemblies \ dancing
party, anu a party too conscientious to in
dulge in any amusements. The latter
j having nothing to do but to sit and look on,
! ami finding their subjects of conversation
I rather limited, soon fa!l to work and eriti
’ cise, and find fault with those around them
| who do not look upon the world with their
j eyes. And what is even worse, too often
j indulge in an ill natured and wicked judg
. incut of their motives.”
“You do not refer to me, I hope,” Miss
Anderson said, looking the lady somew hat
sternly in the face.
“You know, niv young friend, w hether
jor no you have acted as I have said, if
1 not, then I could not have alluded to you.
Ifyou have done so, however, the wise
! course for you is to go and sin no more in
I this respect.”
“Thank you, ma’am !” returned Miss
i Anderson with offended dignity, and turned
j away. In a few moments after, she arose
j and sought a place in another portion of the
; room, beside a young lady with whom she
■ could interchange tiie very sentiments that
; it best pleased her to utter,
j “Dancing versus ill-nature ! Which is
: most sinful ? That is the cause to be tried,”
said Mr. Green, half laughing, as Miss An
derson stepped With a slow, dignified air
across tiie room.
“Yes that has come to be tiie question,”
remarked the lady seriously.
“And one not hard (or sensible people to
decide.”
“No. But, unfortunately, there are too
few in society who think for themselves,
and for themselves determine principles of
action. Dancing, for instance, is pronoun
ced art evil in certain influential quarters,
and forthwith we find a number of persons
who before iiad danced without tiie first
thought of evil, giving tip the delightful
means of social enjoyment, seating them
selves like stocks at an evening party, and
throwing a chilling influence over every
one who happens to come in contact with
them. It is not the sound dictate of their
own unbiased judgement, that has led them
to this course ; but the mere result of pre
scriptive opinion. They do not in the light
of rational intelligence, determine a thing
to be evil, in just the degree that it is done
from an evil end. They know nothing of
the doctrine that it is the end from which
a tiling is done, that gives quality to the ac
tion, and determines it to be good or evil.
But, it is insinuated into their minds that
dancing, for instance is wrong, and forth
with they give up dancing, which is only
an innocent expression of joyful feelings;
a measured response ofthe holy exhilara
ting music; but retain all their ill nature,
selfishness, love of detraction, and every
evil affection of their corrupt hearts. In
stead of shunning these evils as sins, they
give up dancing and indulge them fore
fold.”
“Really you are warm upon the sub
ject,” Mr. Green said, with his usual frank
ness.
“It because I feel warmly in regard to
it. There is Miss Anderson, who has just
left us, offended by my plain speaking.—
She has among other ill natured remarks,
alluded to Caroline Murry, and her sister in
a very unkind manner. And yet the Miss
Murrays are her superiors in every way—
morally, as well as intellectually. Let mo
‘ relate toyou an incident in which all three
were concerned, and which bears upon a
sneering remark made l>v licra little while
ago. You are aware, 1 presume, that
when Mr. Murrv died, lie left an embarras
sed estate. In the settlement of this there
was a good deal of mismanagement, final
ly resulting in the loss of every thing, ex
cept an annuity of two hundred dollars
each for the two daughters, who by the
death of their father, were left alone in the
world at the early age of sixteen. They
were twin-sisters, and tenderly attached to
each other. An aged aunt had always
lived in their father’s house, and been de
pending upon him. She was of course
thrown destitute on the world. But the
affectionate girls would not permit her to
lie separated from them. They took a
small, neat house, and a low rent and after
furnishing it as comfortably as was in
quired. had the residue of their father's fur
niture, which had been left with them, sold
and the amount obtained from it, invested
so a. to s'.V°B Until regular income. This
it did but slightly. Here they Btill liv°>
with their aged aunt, ministering to all her
wants, and denying themselves in various
ways in order to keep a home lor her. To
their slender income they add whatever
they can earn by sewing. But it requires
great economy and prudence for them to
live—and the practice of constant self-de
nial. But you always find them cheerful.
Look at Caroline now ! Is there a happier
or sweeter face here to-night? Her tem
per is as sweet as her taco. She looks upon
every otic with kindness, and never speaks
of another except to allude to some good
quality.”
“During tiie early part ofthe winter, an
effort was made among the members of the
church to which tiie Miss Murry sand Miss
Anderson belong, to raise a certain sum of
money to buy fuel, food and clothing for the
poor ofthe congregation. Miss Anderson
is an orphan as well as the others, but with
this difference—she has an income of two
thousand dollars a year, and they, as 1 have
said, but two hundred ouch. Well, it fell
to my lot to call, with another lady, upon
Miss Anderson. When we stated our er
rand, she drew herself up coolly, and said
that she made it a point not to give to poor
people. Their poverty was usually their
own fault, and to satisfy their wants was
usually to encourage them in idleness and
improvidence. We did not urge the mat
ter upon her, for we wished all u ho gave to
do so in cheerfulness and freedom. Our
next call was upon the two sisters. I can
not soon forget that interview. Both my
self and tiie friend who accompanied me,
wore on terms of close intimacy with them,
and they therefore concealed nothing from
us. I need not go into a minute account of
the interview. Its results were briefly this.
A determination to giro twenty dollars. —
The sum was a large one for them, but it
was given in tiie spirit of pure self-sacrifice
for the good of others. They were enabled
to do it in this way. Their aunt is quite
old, and they neveron that account, leave
her alone. One of them always remains
with her. Os course both could not go into
company at the same time. Caroline was
dressed to go out shopping when we called
upon them, and was going to purchase two
handsome dresses, the patterns of which
they had chosen, w ith some other things
preparatory to tire coming social season.
After we had stated our errand, Caroline
thought a moment, and then proposed to buy
only one dress, as they could never go out
together, to be worn by the one whose turn
it should lie to go into company. The sis
ter instantly acquiesced, with a cheerful
pleasure, that really caused the tears to
dim my eyes. We remonstrated —but they
seemed to feel it to bo an obligation which
as Christians, they owed to the poor ; thank
ed us for reminding them of their duty, and
handed us twenty dollars. Now as a se
quel to this, I cannot help alluding to tiie
fact, that tiie young lady who was too con
scientious to give to the poor, and too con
scientious to dance,-did not hesitate to sneer
at these sisters, because she had made the
discovery that they owned but one party
dress, alledging it as her belief, that the
reason why only one of them was seen in
company at a time, was because they had
only one decent dress between them !”
Mr. Green sat silent and thoughtful for
some time after his companion had ceased
speaking. Then he made his own com
ments upon the incidents related. These
need not be mentioned here. Ho soon af
ter moved to the side of Caroline Murry,
and kept his place most of the evening.—
Ho found her intelligent, and kind in her
allusion to every’ one—even to Miss Ander
son, pitying rather than censuring Iter for
her false views in regard to dancing, and
making the excuse for her of a defective
education.
After that, Mr. Greenwasa regular vi
sito at the house of the sisters, Miss Ander
son sneers at this—but will no doubt attend
Caroline’s wedding soon, as siie will be in
vited.
Royal Plate. —Every one, perhaps, is
not aware of the many useless expenses to
which the people which exist under a mon
archical government —tiie free government
of Groat Britain, forinstance —are exposed.
It is said that the bare plate at Windsor
Castle, is valued at $8,500,000. A single
gold service of George the IV., containsali
the utensils requisite to dine one hundred
and thirty guests. There is in this collec
tion a vessel which once belonged to Charles
XI, of Swecden—another taken from the
Spanish Armada and others again were
brought from China. Burnish and India.—
There are also , thirty dozen gold plates, i
worth -8130 each, besides sph tided gold
shields, for snuff* boxes, worth from 30,000
to $40,000 a piece.
/■ rom the A. O. Picayune.
PRAIRIE AND MOUNTAIN .LIFE.
THE BEE HUNTERS.
Our evenings around the camp-fires were i
generally whiled away with pipes and
chat, now and then a song, and sometimes i
a yam, either fanciful or true, from some !
of the rude characters around us. Encatn t
ped upon the IFu/i/r.roosi, or Big Elk,
when journeying outward only some sixty !
miles beyond Westport, we listened one j
evening with intense interest to the follow- \
ing narration, given, perhaps, with more j
effect in the uncouth words of the story to!- |
ler. It was one of the first of these camp- j
fire relations that we heard, and was so told !
as to leave a vivid impression upon us all. j
It was sometime in 1832, that a party of
fifteen or twenty persons collected among!
the little village se'.sh’meatsof upper Mis j
souri, for the purpose ofa bee hunting expe- >
<J it ion out upon Grand River. As is usual j
on such occasions, there were more novi- \
ces than practical woodmen among them, I
and in a few days, before a single bee
tree was found, their provisions began to j
run low, while no sign as yet appeared of j
either honey or game. Thus critically I
circumstanced, an old tnau by the uame of j
Vanderpoo] undertook, with his son, to re
turn to tlte settlements, and bring out fur
ther supplies for the rest ; but the man and
boy were only a few hours out of sight of!
their companions when they became be- |
vvildercd, and by nightfall the two were i
thoroughly lost. Their only course now j
was to lay down and wait patiently until j
daylight came to assist in setting them
right again, but during the night tiie unt'or- ;
lunate old man in some accidental manner ‘
discharged his rifle, die bail passing thro
his left thigh and shattering tiie bone in a !
most dreadful manner. Night wore slow
ly away over them, while the old man lay
in horrible agony, and without prospect of \
assistance, until, as day dawned, it was de
termined that the hov should seek tiie set
tlements alone, and hurry back with aid to j
his father.
Accordingly the youth set off alone, in- j
voking Providence to guide him, while an j
old and faithful dog was t ho only living i
thing left with the wounded father, to lick ‘
his feverish hand arid listen to his moans ]
More fortunate than he anticipated, tire son ;
did in a brief period reach tlte settlements, i
from whence he set out again immediately
with every necessary assistance, both for
his father and the unlucky bee hunters
upon ‘.lie Grand River. But the poor boy
was now worse lost than ever, and he could
neither find the place where he had left his
father, nor direct the friends who were with
him were to look for the main party. All j
this time the old man lay in most acute af- [
fiiclion, unable to stir an inch, while endu- i
ring the maddening agony of thirst, and
with a coo! stream rolling but a few yards j
from him, through a deep cleft in the prai- !
rio, overhung by a broad spreading growth 1
of timber. He lingered in this way until
the third day after his son left him, when
the desolate invalid began to feel his brain
wandering beneath the severity of his suf
ferings, and in this situation his poor friend,
the dog—tlte only thing that seemed yet j
imbued with knowledge and sympathy for .
him—presented the unhappy man with his
only cruel and desperate method of pro- J
longing life.
Coaxing the affectionate creature near I
enough to him by the feeble motion of his i
hand, he made a desperate plunge at the
animal’s neok with iiis knife, and was for j
tunate enough to sever the jugular artery, ■
and tlie poor dog expired almost without a i
struggle by his side ! Old Vanderpool j
then, by great exertion, turned himself so as !
to touch the flowing blood with his lips, and j
in this way ho managed to imbibe a suffi- j
ciency ofstrange sustenance to give him a j
partial restoration of strength, with which
he dragged himself by slow degrees down
to the edge of the creek. Here the woun
ded man slacked his three day’s thirst, and
fell at orice Off into a happy unconscious
ness of pain and suffering, liis body quite
hidden from view by leaves and the tick j
undergrowth of wild shrubbery around I
him.
Some hours after poor Vanderpoo'i’a com
panions, the other bee hunters, came past
this very spot, they having wailed his re
turn until patience had expired, and now
having determined to abandon their search
after hoc trees, and make their way home
ward as soon as possible. They found
the dead dog. which, though already parti
ally torn Ity wolves, they at onee recog
nised as Vanderpooi’s, but neglected to
search the vicinity with such scrutiny as
might have discovered tothern their unfor
tunate companion ; and only satisfying
themselves that he was not there, thoy hur
ried on their way homeward.
The boy, too, at length succeeded in
bringing his friends to the spot, and finding
various foot-prints around, his father gone
and the dog killed, his natural conclusion
was, that cither friends or enemies had
been there and carried the old man ofi'.—
This opinion fastening itself at once upon
them all,-they left the place and turned
back to the settlements, while poor old
Vanderpool with his broken thigh still lay,
not insensible, but speechless, among the
bushes on the margin of the stream I He
heard his friends searching for and wonder
ing what had become of. him, but could
11. J. It AI*III L, fri n ter.
give them no intimation of his near where
about. He heard his son's voice, and could
gasps foi lli no tone or tnurmer loud enough
to give warning of his presence. They
were preparing to depart, to leave him there
tor the last time, and he was a', no in the
desolate wilderness, helpless, wounded,
starving and dying, with now not even the
dog to crouch by his side, and scent in
some sort a companion to him. The help
less old man could not drag his mutilated
body up the bank again, and the remaining
flesh of the dog was torn by the wolves al
most in his sight and hearing, while the
horrible conviction alone remained that it.
dread probility his own body would prove
the next meal for the ferocious beasts ! In
this miserable condition, sinking beneath
hope in bodily and mental anguish, the
poor old bee-hunter passed another night,
and yet with firm tenacity nature clung to
life, and feeble existence lingered in his
frame.
The hoy and his friends, as well as the
other people of the bee-hunting party, ar
rived at their homes, fully expecting to hoar
of some lucky ciranco having brought.the.
old man in before ‘them, but consternation
and alam at once succeeded to this hope,
when they were told that Vanderpool had
as yet neither been seen or heard of ! W itii
instant and humane despatch, the w hole
party, joined by ns many more fresh re
cruits, hurried away for a general and
thorough searcli after tiie missing man, and,
proceeding once more to the spot where his
son had left him, a more careful investiga
tion had the happy effect of at least restor
ing the unfortunate cripple to his fiiends.
| They found him among the leaves and
shrubs, by the edge of the water, just where
lie had dragged himself nearly two days
before, wholly insensible, and fust hasten
ing toward a condition beyond the reach of
human aid. Yet that oid man was living
when the story was told to us on the Wall
kit roosi, and is still a halo old fellow at
the date of tin's writing ! The veracity of
our simple informant was never doubted
among us, but oui interest in the story was
increased when, on our return several
months after, we accidentally met w ith
further intelligence ol “Old Vanderpool, ’
fully confirming the anecdote we had heard
i of'his critical adventure when out, nearly
twelve years ago, with the bee-hunters.
I How much is there daily occurring in
1 real life that leaves the p< nos fiction in the
back ground ! How many occurrences
| fade constantly away unrecorded in obii-
I vion, (in despite, even, of the ever eager
I daily papers.) full ofall the elements cal
culated to enlist sympathy and interest
How whimsically must it seem to us that
the world moves, when we reflect that a
vast region of romances, poets and story
tellers exist by coining, with great labor,
fanciful resemblances oftbings that pass in
truthful reality every day unnoticed before
our eyes in the great panorama of nature.
| And iiow much more welcome do we ever
i find the real picture that we recognize,
than the ornate and elaborate creations of
; fancy. Old Vanderpool and bis neighbors,
; with whom his story lias long been an ordi-
S nary and almost forgotten affair, w ill doubt-
J less be surprised enough at seeing a simple
anecdote oftheir far locality picked up at
j last and put into print.
From the Cinchmtti Enquirer.
O.XE DROP TOO LI OF tiie Mllk of Hc
’ max Kindness. —An old gentleman with
an old w ife, and no children, who lived on
Long-worth, street in this city, was aroused
i from his bed one night about four weeks
ago by a loud knocking at the street door.
The ancient pair had always manifested a
great fondness for children, and not being
blessed with any of their own, were on tho
best terms imaginable with those belong
ing to their mere fortunate neighbors, end
whenever a chubby little boy or girl
chanced to he in their company, it was
stuffed with sweet meats, and overw helmed
with their unpracticed, and consequently
awkward, endearments. The neighbors lov
ed the old couple, because the couple loved
their children, and enabled them to save
many a Christmas penny that would other
wise have been uselessly buried in the bow 7 -
els of gingerbread horses. And for ma
ny squares around the peculiar propens:-
ties of the ancient pair furnished inexhaus
tible material for gossip.—This venerable
couple had long since committed them
selves to the arms ofSomuus, on a Decem
ber night, from which they were disturbed
by a loud rap at the street door, the old
gentleman did not know w hat to make of the
knock hut knew that it made a noise not
usually heard in his house at one o’clock
in the morning; and so lie pinched bis wife's
ear and asked her what it was. The old
lady thought that he had better get up and
see. He slipped out of the bed in his slip
pers and pants, and went down stairs to the
door, which lie opened, and in it traced a
dark shadow on the lighter darkness, a fe
male form with a bundle in her arms. The
gentleman asked her what she w anted, and
the young lady for such by her voico she
seemed to be,) said she was an unfortu
nate woman, the modern meaning of w bicji
the old gentleman did not understand—ot
course. He said he felt sorry for her; read
her a brief moral lecture, from memory;
and said that heaven would never desert tho
virtuous. The night was cold; the old man
was thinly clad; he shivered, and his voico
I was tremulous, which caused the unfor
! tunate woman to sob, believing that in
j the goodness of his tender and pitying
| heart, the old mqn was w eeping too. She
had a child; a levelv boy: ms* five month:.
I VOLUME XXIX.
