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NEWS & PEANTEMS’ GAZETTE.
1). COTTING, Editor.
No. 28.—NEW SERIES.]
News and Planters’ Gazette.
TEK M S :
Published weekly at Two Dollars and Fifty
G'Wis per annum, if paid at the time ot Subscri
bing ; or Three Dollars if not paid till the expi
ration of three months.
No paper to be discontinued,unless at the
option of the Editor, without the settlement of
all arrearages.
O’ Litters, on business, must be postpaid, to
insure attention. No communication shall be
published, unless we are made acquainted with
the name of the author.
TO ADVERTISERS.
Advertisements, not exceedingone square, iirst
insertion, Seventy-Jive Cents; and for each sub
sequent insertion, Fifty Cents. A reduction will
,be made of twenty-live percent, 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 andGuardians, 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 like manner, forty days.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate
must be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the
Court of Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Ne
groes, must be published for four months—
notice that application will be made for Leaers
of Administration, must be published thirty days;
and Letters of Dismission, six months.
Mail Arrangements.
POST OFFICE. I
‘Washington., Ga., Sept. 1, 1813. )
EASTERN MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Raytown,
Double-Wells, Crawfordville, Carnack, Warren
ton, Thompson, Dearing, and Barzelia.
ARRIVES.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 9, A. M.
rT.oatS.
Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at ‘ll, 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.
arrives —Wednesday and Friday, by G A. M.
i closes —Tuesday and Thursday, at I’d M.
ABBEVILLE, S.C. MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Danburg,
Pistol Creek, and Petersburg.
ARRIVES.
Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, by 1 P. M.
, CLOSES.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 6 A. M.
LEXINGTON MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Centre
ville, State Rights, Scull-shoals, 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.
EI.BERTON MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Mallo
rysville, Goosopond, Whites, Mill-Stone, Harri
sonville, and Ruckersville.
Arrives Thursday 8 P. M., and Closes same time.
LINCOLNTON MAIL.
Bv this route, Mails are made up for Rehoboth,
Stoiiey Point, Goshen, Double Branches, and
Darby’s.
Arrives Friday, 12 M. | Closes same time.
O’ The Letter Box is the proper place to de-
all matter designed to be transported by
■U, and such as may be found there at the
above specified, will be despatched by first
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
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. 6t 20
CUTTING & BUTLER,
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
NEW BOOKS.
f
Matilda, by Eugene Sue, author of the Myste
ries of Paris:
Julia Corryear, a Romance of the Alps :
German without a Master :
The National Clay Minstrel:
Eveline Trevor, and other works just received,
and for sale by J. MAYER.
February 8,1844. 21.
Ijost , or Jftislaid 9
K A CERTAIN Promissory Note for Two
Hundred Dollars, made payable to the Sub,
scriber, by Sarah Danner, dated sometime the
first of 1840, and due the 25th December follow
ing. All persons are hereby cautioned not to
trade for said Note, as it lias been fully paid off.
DAVID DANNER.
February 8,1844. 24
jpCtecrUanrotts.
OLD PELL.
OR THE VENTRILOQUIST.
My friend and Chum, Tim Jocelyn pos
sessed to an astonishing degree the singu
lar power of ventriloquism. We had en
tered college together—l was his room
mate—and many were the times that my
friend, while we were sitting together of an
evening, after all had retired to rest, had
given me proofs of this astonishing faculty,
hy filling the garret with the screams
ofturkies, the squealing of pigs, and with
different imitations of the human voice,
which he would convey away to some re
mote disiance, and then gradually bring it
nearer & nearer, until it reached the place
where we were sitting. It was not known
to any of the students except myself, that
Tim possessed this power, and he exer
cised it only on a few occasions while at
college, and in one instance, made it sub
servient to the accomplishment of at least
his own good, and thwarted the purposes of
villany.
Tim was humorous, yet a frank and no.
bleminded fellow—an excellent scholar,
and much beloved by his classmates.—
There was a fellow in ihe Sophomore
class by the name of David Benson, the
son of u wealthy landholder, who possessed
little talent, hut had that superficial and
insolent contemptuous bearing towards nil
the students, whose circumstances were in
ferior in wealth to his, that rendered him
deservedly unpopular among the class—
vet notwithstanding, as he was the son of
Major Benson, who was an aristocrat of
tlie old school, and who was desirous that
his son should be placed in the highest
rank of academic honors, the tutors, (as in
duty, or rather in interest, bound) made
much of David, and did not scruple to ex
ercise a leniency and forbearance towards
him, which they did not extend to others;
and although dozens of the farmer’s sons,
among whom was my friend Tim, out
stripped him in study, and the attainment
of science, still there was evidently a de
sire on the part of the tutors to put him a
head and to prophesy that he was destined
to become the greatest scholar of them all.
This misplaced favoritism, added to the in
solent and consequential demeanor of Ben
son, procured for him the unanimous dis
like of all the inmates of the school, and
many were the pranks that were played o!F
upon him. David affected a sentimentali
ty and romance which was in him perfect
ly ridiculous—and would sometime perpe
trate doggrel, which he submitted to the
criticisms of the tutors and sometimes to
the students, deficient in meaning or meas
ure, except where he had stolen entire
snatches from Byron’s ‘Hours of Idleness,’
which never failed togain him the sneers of
the school in the same proportion as his
verses were commended by the teachers.
Oil one occasion he appeared at the adjoin
ing village, with a copy of his latest effort
tacked to the skirt of his coat, whioh some
mischievous student iiad pinned ihcre du
ring school hours and before Benson’s de
parture.
During a summer vacation, a ball was
given at the neighboring village, and Ben
son, and Tim among other students, who
remained during the vacation, w ere invited
to attend. Among the young ladies in at
tendance at the ball, was Eliza Ayers, a
beautiful girl of eighteen, whom report said
was a great heiress. She was an orphan
and under the guardianship of her uncle,
a miserly old fellow, whose tyrannies
though often extended over his household,
had as yet been withheld from his ward.
Benson was here introduced to Miss Ayres,
and exercised the whole of his powers, to
render himself agreeable to her. Tim was
also introduced—and before the evening
drew to a close, it was easy to discover that
the intelligent and bcautilful girl had
drawn in her own mind the difference be
twcoen the two young men. She seemed
annoyed at the vapid tomfooleries of Ben
son, while she listened with respectful at
testion, and with a smile to the conversa
tion of Tim. The amusements broke up
for the evening. Tim was standing by
Miss Ayres who after some remarks as to
the happy manner in which the evening
had passed away, concluded by iuviting
Tim to call upon her at her Uncle’s Be
fore she had finished this sentence, Benson
came up, hut politeness offered her no al
ternative but toofTer the same invitation to
him. He was about to offer to accompany
her home, but Tim had been too quick for
him there. Tim accompanied the lady
home, and Benson returned mortified to his
room. He however formed the determina
tion of visiting Miss Ayres feeling the full
assurance that Tim would come off second
best, when it became known that Tim was
but the son of a farmer in moderate circum
stances, while he was the son of Major Ben
son, with a fortune at his command.—He
accordingly often called on Miss Ayres;
and her uncle, for reasons which will here
after be explained, encouraged his visits,
and exerted himself in his behalf as a suit
or to his niece. Benson was fairly in love,
and as many lovers do, he assumed a virtue
and amiability of deportment, which was
but ill feigned, and his character would of
ten appear in spite of himself. Tim also
had availed himself of Eliza’s invitation
and often visited her. A mutual attach
ment was the consequence, which soon ri
pened into an affection between the two—
an exchange of vows and a promise of her
hand were won from Eliza. Benson under
the encouragement of her uncle still con-
WASHINGTON, (WILKES COUNTY, GA.,) FEBRUARY 22, 1844.
tinued his suit, proposed and was rejected.
He now grew amazingly melancholy, or at
least affected to he so; and would wander
in this mood to the hanks of the river, and
gaze upon the stream, probably contempla
ting an acquaintance with suicide—and
giving his body to the fishes for dissection.
But Benson was not such a fool as that eith
er. His disappointment became known at
the college, and numerous were the gibes
and taunts the poor fellow got from those
over w hom he had so insolently domineer
ed. This, ofcourse, did not tend to add
much to the amiability of his temper; and
on one occasion he showed his magnanimi
ty and courage by knocking down a bright
eyed lad, some five or six years Iris junior,
for saying—‘that a fellow who had been in
the habit of taking airson himseifhad found
Ayers that could not be so easily taken.’
Tim, who stood by, saw this exhibition of
Benson’s courage, and in return gave him
a blow under the left ear, which sent him
reeling to the floor. At this the whole
school shouted, Tim was ever after hailed
by the youngsters, as a protector against
the tyrannies of Benson.
But Tim himself, was not entirely at
ease on the score of Miss Ayres. The old
uncle had frowned upon him as lie enter
ed the house, and had given him sundry
hints that Eliza was not for him; while at
the same time he had attempted to lay his
commands upon Eliza respecting her ac
ceptance of Benson. This uncle’s name
was Fell. lie had been made the sole ex
ecutor of the will of Eliza’s father, himself
having the profits of the large estate of the
deceased gentleman, after supporting and
educating the daughter, during her minor
ity, or until she should marry. Anitemin
the will was to this effect; that if Eliza
married a person of moderate fortune, the
whole estate amounting to sixty thousand
dollars was to become hers, on her mar
riago day, or when she became of age; but
if her husband was himself heir to thirty
thousand dollars, half of the estate became
the property of the uncle; which sufficient
ly explains the anxiety on the part of Mr.
Fell, that Eliza should marry Benson, as he
would thereby become possessed ofn snug
little property.
Tim visited Eliza one evening am 1 found
her in tears. On his enquiring the cause,
she informed him that Benson had that day
repeated his suit, and had again been re
jected; that on learning it, her uncle had
come in and upbraided her, and threatened
that if she did not accept Benson, to dispos
sess her of her property, alleging that he
possessed the means of doing so, as nobody
had ever read the will of her father except
himself; that tlio subscribing witness did
not know the contents; that probate had ne
ver been taken of it; and that it was in his
power to insert therein a clause requiring
that ifshe married, it must be with the con
sent ofhim, as her guardian and the exec
utor of the will; and then ifshe married
Tim it would be without his consent, and
she would thereby become disinherited for
ever.
‘Can’t you get possession of the will?’
enquired Tim of Eliza.
‘1 should think impossible, as my uncle
keeps it well secured in an iron safe.’
‘l'll manage it my dear,’ replied Tim,
‘and will get the will from the old tyrant,
or I’m no conjuicr. You have told me,
I think, that your uncle was very super
stitious?’
‘lie is,’ said Eliza. ‘He imagines often
that he hears the voices of Mr. Jonas, and
others of his former tenants, who are now
dead; and no wonder, for his oppressions
were the ruin of those poor men.’
‘ln what part of the house does your un
cle lodge?’ enquired Tim.
‘On the first floor of the wing at the ex
tremity ofthe building,’ she replied.
‘Tim bade her good evening, and then
went to consult Mr. Fletcher his attorney.
After some time spent in the consultation,
Tim departed, and was wending his way,
in a brown study, towards his boarding
house, when he was accosted by Peter,
the black servant of Pell, with,
‘Fine evenin,’ Massa Jocelyn, I want to
’peak to you.’
Tim stopped, and tnrned round to the ne
gro. He was a stout humorous looking
fellow, somewhat aged, and approached
Tim very respectfully. He had been
brought up by Eliza’s father, and was a
favorite domestic of that gentleman in his
life-time. Peter commenced
‘Look here, Massa Jocelyn; you not
know what been goin’ on at Massa
Pell’s since I let you out de gate dis eve
nin’—Dat feller Benson he come agin to
Missuss, and she scampered off to hpr room,
and shet herself up, and den Benson went
away. Pretty soon Massa Pell, (lie wick
ed ole chap Massa Jocelyn) come and call
young Missus out, and tell her she must
marry dat Benson in a month or he turn
her out door. Poor young Missus cry, and
take on so, dat I couldn’t tand it, and so 1
fell a blubbering too —’caze, you see, she
my old Massa’s darter, and I carry her in
my arms when she little piccaninny. Dat
ole Massa Pell very cruel, Massa Jocelyn,
and he say she hab no property if she not
marry Benson. Can’t you lick that Ben
son?—Be-shure you can.’
Peter was here interrupted by Tim, who
finding from the tone of the negro’s conver
sation, that he did not like his present mas
ter overmuch, and would therefore be of
service to him in furthering the plan he was
about to propose, asked him where he
slept?
‘ln little room inde wing, close by Mas
sa Pell’s bed room. He make me sleep
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING.
dare, —’cause he fraid—and sometime he
talk in he .sleep and say he see ghost; and
den lie call me in dc room, and make me sit
up all night wid candle.
Tim here informed the negro of the cir
cumstanccs relating to the will—that lie
was anxious to obtain possession of it for
the purpose ofhaving it proved and record
ed, and then it would he out of old Pell’s
power to injure his young mistress. Tim,
I have said before, was a ventriloquist.
He explained this to Peter; and they to
gether formed the project of frightening old
Pell out of the possession ofthe will. It
tvas arranged that Tim should come to the
negro’s room at about twelve o’clock that
night; and their preconcerted management
vv hen there, is now about to appear.
It was five minutes of twelve o’clock.—
The night was dark and the w ind howled
over the top ofthe trees, and creaked the
shutters ofthe mansion. Old Pell had re
tired to his room, had undressed himself,
put on his nightcap’ and was busy in mind
respecting liie thirty thousand dollars he
was to obtain if Eliza married Benson.
He went to the iron safe, and took out the
will, read it over and thus soliloquized:—
The jade must be compelled to submit—or
she gets no property. Here is a blank in
the will sufficiently large to insert what is
necessary; and as I drew it originally, it
will be the same hand-writing and never de
tected. So I’ll just insert here, where it
says Eliza is to become possessed of her
property on her marriage day— provided
she marries with the consent of Samuel Pell;
whom I have constituted a guardian and
sole executor of this my last will and testa
ment.’ Peter’s room was adjoining that of
Pell—there was a glass window in the
door between then), and there was one who
had been an attentive observer and listener
to the conduct and soliloquy of Pell. The
old scamp had dipped his pen in the ink
stand, smoothed out the folded parchment,
and crooked his elbow to write—when—
‘Forgery! cried a deep-toned, hollow,
and supernatural voice at his elbow. ‘For
geryt!’ reiterated the same voice in another
part ofthe room; and again the horrible
word ‘Forgery!’ was slowly pronounced,
and its tone gradually sunk in the earth
beneath the floor.
Old Pell suddenly dropped the pen, and
shrunk back pale and trembling with hor
ror and fright depicted in his countenance.
Having a little recovered from his astonish
ment, he looked round his apartment and
under the bed. Nothing was to be seen.
He listened. Nothing was heard but the
snoring of Peter in the adjoining room.
He began to think it an illusion; was fast
recovering his courage; and was about to
take out the will again,—when as soon as
he placed iiis hand upon it—
‘Forgery!’ again cried the voice in a
tone of thunder.
Pell drew away his hand as if he had re
ceived an electric shock, and leaving the
will on the centre table, ran into Peter’s
room, and awakened him.
‘What’s do trouble, Massa Pell?’ asked
the negro,
‘Get up,’ said Pell shaking with fright,
‘and come into my room.’ Peter went in
accordingly. Poll continued—
“ Did you hear nothing Peter?’
‘No Massa; what you hear dat scare you
so?’
‘No matter, l want you to stay with me,
and keep a candle burning. I’ll go to bed.’
Pell accordingly prepared to turn in, but
he bethought himself that it would be best
to put the will again into the safe before
he retired. He advanced to the table for
that purpose, and was in the act of taking
up the parchment, when the same unearth
ly voice exclaimed—
‘Let the will alone, old Pell!
He started back with so much force as to
upset Peter, who, falling against the table;
upset that also; the candle on the table be
came upset and extinguished, and all was
total darkness.
‘What in time ail you Massa?’ asked
Peter; ‘what scare you dis time?’
‘Didn’nt you hear a voice, Peter?’
‘No, Massa; 1 hear notting.’
During the darkness and confusion, Tim
slipped into Pell’s room, and with a phos
phoric preparation, wrote on the wall the
ominous word forgery !’ in large gleaming
characters, picked up the will, and made his
exit back into Peter’s room. If any tiling
could have added to the consternation of
the already horror-struck Pell, it was be
holding that terrible word, blazing and
twinkling on the opposite wall. He swoon
ed away with fright. Peter raised his mas
ter on a chair, threw some water in his
face, and relighted the candle. Pell soon
revived, and was about hastening to bed,
after inquiring of Peter if he saw nothing
on the wall, to which the negro replied that
he saw ‘nothing but Massa’s cloak hanging
dare;’ and charging Peter to stay with a
lighted candle in the room all night, he
parted his curtains, preparatory to a leap
into bed.
‘Don’t come in here, you old sinner!’
shrieked the same voice, issuing from the
bedclothes, but Pell had already thrown
himself upon the bed, where he swooned
again.
Peter threw some water in his face, and
Pell again revived; but he was so exhaust
ed with his numerous frights, that he was
fast sinking into a sleep, when the same
voice, in a singing strain explained,
‘Good night, good night, old Sammy Pell!
‘And recollect ’twill be as well
That nought of this night’s scene you tell!’
Tim now made his escape from Peter’s
room and went home. The next morning
he called on Mr. Fletcher, and after due
consultation with that gentleman, the sub
scribing witness totlie will, a Mr. Sampson,
was found, and before night, the will was
duly proved and put on record.
“Do you intend to keep the will?’ asked
Fletcher.
‘No,’ replied Tim. ‘I intend to return
it. There is no fear of forgery now, since
it has been proved and recorded.’
Fletcher laughed. Tim had of course
confidently communicated to him all the
particulars as to the manner in which the
will had been obtained. Fletcher laughed.
Tim had of course, confidently communi
cated to him nil the particulars as to the
manner in which the will had been obtain
ed. Fletcher replied that Tim would
make an excellent Lawyer.
Poll rose the next mornig, after his noc
turnal scene pale, and troubled in mind—
Peter, in answer to his numerous inquiries,
stoutly contended that he had neither seen
or heard any thing the night before, except
the accident of upsetting the table and ex
tinguishingof the candle.
‘lt’s very strange,’ said Pell.
On looking for the will, he found that it
was gone! and he no longer doubted that it
was the apparition of the deceased testator
who had visited him the night before, as he
was in the act of mutilating the instrument
hy forgery, and had spirited it away in a
miraculous manner. He kept his room
most ofthe day, gloomy and moody; and
recollecting the apparition’s parting warn
ing, lie was silent on the subject of the
last night’s scene. Night came on, and he
retired to rest. He made Peter sleep in
the same room, but allowed him to put out
the light. Nothing occurred during the
night to disturb his slumbers; but what
was his astonishment in the morning, on
finding that Peter had left him, and was
snoring away most unmusically in his own
room. If this little fact surprised him,
how much was his consternation increas
ed, by finding the centre table upset, the
candle lying on the floor, and the will also
lying a foot from the prostrate table, all in
the same situation as they probably were,
when in his fright he had overturned the
table on the evening previous to the last!
Old Pell now cautiously approached the
will as it lay on the floor; first touching it
with his cane, and then listening but hear
ing no noise, he grew more bold and at last
grasped it up, and hurried it into the iron
safe, locked it, and put the key into his
pocket. He next went into Peter’s room,
and after awakening him, asked him, ‘what
he meant by leaving him, and going into
his own room to sleep, when he had been
charged to the contrary?’
‘1 no understand you, Massa Pell.
‘Why, you black scoundrel!’ didnt 1
tell you to sleep in my room last night—
and didn’t I go to bed and leave you sitting
there?’
‘No, Massa!’ replied the negro, how
could you tell me dat, when you have been
asleep yourself, eblcr since night before
last]’
Pell opened his mouth in wonder, and
exclaimed ‘what do von say, Peter? have I
been asleep ever since night before last?’
‘Yes, you hab,’ answered Peter, ‘and 1
found it impossible to wake you all day
yesterday.’
Pell scratched his head. The fright
which ho had endured, had in a measure
affected his senses, and having but an in
distinct recollection ofthe scene iie had pas.
sed through, finding himself contradicted
hy Peter in every thing which he attemp
ted to describe as having taken place, and,
withal, not a little willing to believe that
the horrors which he had suffered were
imaginary, he finally settled down upon
the conclusion, that it was as Peter repre
sented—he had been asleep thirty six hours,
and had been dreaming—and that was all.
He now resolved, more firmly than ever,
not to he thwarted in his designs respec
ting Eliza, so he goes to the safe, takes out
the will, and it being day time, lie felt fear
less. He sat down by the table, took up
his pen—and after some trembling, final
ly inserted the clause therein, the purport
of whioh the reader has already seen. He
then went to Eliza, and informed her that
she must be prepared to marry Benson
within a month, hinting that it would be
useless for her to protest against it, for if
she should persist in marrying Tim, she
would thereby forfeit all claim to her fa
ther’s property. Eliza had seen Tim only
a few hours before, and she had been told
everything respecting the obtaining posses
sion of the will, and of its being proved and
recorded, and that henceforth, it was out
of her uncle’s power to do as he had threat
ened. She therefore wore a cheerful coun
tenance, when Pel! made the above an
nouncement, and said—
“lf I must be married so soon, uncle—as
it is summer, I should prefer that the wed
ding should be at my aunt Winthrop’s, in
her beautiful mansion at Farrningdell
Park. It will be so delightful to get mar
ried in such a beautiful retreat, and it is
only eight miles distant, I’m sure our
friends would be glad to accompany us.”
Pell, who expected another shower of
tears and complaints against his cruelty in
compelling her to marry Benson, was over
joyed to find her so seemingly tractable on
this point, and in the exuberance of his joy,
promised her that the wedding should be at
her Aunt’s. It was therefore arranged that
Eliza should go to Farrningdell Park, there
to remain until the day of her nuptials.—
The arrangements were soon communica
ted by Pell to Benson, who was, of course,
exceedingly elated ot his coming prospects,
itl. J. KAI'PFiL, Printer.
and consequently put on an extra degree
of'suporcilious behavior towards his class
mates, and rubbed his hands and laughed
when ho saw Tiro. ‘Let them laugh that
will,’thought Tim, but lie said nothing.
Tim paid but one visit to Eliza and her
aunt Winthrop at Farrningdell Park boforo
the evening of the wedding. How well lie
i played his card wtien there, hy insinuating
himself in the good graces of Mrs. Win
throp.and tiie resultofthe consultation had
with the old lady and her niece, will bo
| shown in the sequel ofour tale. It is suffi
cient to say, that Mrs. VVinihrop liked Tim,
j and had always disliked old Pell. Tim
| communicated his secret to me —and re
j quested that 1 would appear on that even
ing dressed as a groomsman.
The day of ihe nuptials arrived. The
elite of the country around, and of the Col
lege, were invited to Farrningdell Park.—
Bensoni procured a splendid hack to con
vey himself and his groomsman totlie Park.
Tim and myself were dressed in the ex
treme of fashion, and also procured a coach
still more splendid, at which every body
wondered, in which we wended our wav to
M rs. Winthrop’s, in advance of Benson and
his party, consisting of old Poll and !::s
groomsman. Having thus taken the ! ;. !
ofthe train, by the application of w i : • >
our horses, we found ourselves at th
some twenty minutes before the res
party arrived.
On entering the parlor, we found
Winthrop, Eliza in her bridal dress,
her cousin Mary Winthrop, as brim
and also Mr. Strong, the clergyman. :::
latter of whom, Mrs. Winthrop . ■ f
Tim as the bridegroom, and myself his
groomsman. It was arranged that ns soon
as the party arrived, and had properly as
sembled, the bride and bridesmaid and Tun
and myselfshould take our stations at the
upper i tid of the parlor, when the clergy
man should perform the ceremony.
The whole party arrived soon after, and
were arranging themselves for the ir appea
rance in the parlor, with the bridesmaid.—
Benson, on his arrival, asked Mrs. Win
throp for Eliza, and was answered that she
chose not to appear till the hour for the
ceremony began, when she would enter
the room from the wing adjoining the par
lor, with her bridesmaid. In less than an
hour, every thing was in readiness for the
ceremony to commence. Pell had seated
himself near the upper end of the room,
and Mrs. Winthrop was stationed nearhim.
Eliza and her bridesmaid made their ap
pearance from an adjoining room, Eliza
led in by Tim, and I had the honor of con
ducting her cousin to the place where we
were to stand. We had just arranged our
selves, when Benson with his groomsman
came up—and here considerable confusion
ensued, Benson offered his hand to Eliza,
who did not extend hers, but waved it and
curtseying, requested him to be seated, as
there was an unoccupied seat near her un
cle Pell. Tim could hardly contain him
self from laughing outright, while Benson
was so staggered with surprise, mortifica
tion and disappointment, that he only moved
a few paces back, and looked the very pie
ture of despair.
The lovers joined hands, and the minis
ter commenced repeating the ceremony,
when old Pel], who had cast his eyes to
wards that end of the room, discovered
what was going on, and screamed out—‘l
forbid the banns !’
Tiie minister slopped, ‘I forbid the banns!’
repeated old Pell, his teeth gnashing with
rage ; ‘I have never given my consent.’
‘You have no consent to give,’ replied
Mrs. Winthrop. ‘Will you please pro
ceed with the ceremony, Mr. Strong. Mr.
Pell, this is my niece’s wedding, and in my
own house—l therefore hope you will take
the hint, and let us have no more of your
interruptions.’
‘I say,’ replied Pell, ‘tis written in her
father's will, that she cannot marry with
out my consent.’
‘Forgery !’ cried the same supernatural
voice, which Pell well recollected. It
came in a smothered tone ; no one heard it
but Pell and Mrs. Winthrop. Old Pell
grew pale and said no more. The ceremo
ny was now finished without interruption,
and Tim and Eliza were pronounced ‘man
and wife.’ Then there was a tittering and
laughing all over the house. The students
of the college, particularly, enjoyed it
much. The idea that Tim had so out-gen
eraled Benson in his hymeneal campaign
was too good, and they laughed together
an hour. Benson only waited for the pro
nunciation of the sentence that Tim and
Eliza were ‘man and wife’—he then rushed
out of the door, followed by his groomsman
and old Pell, and called for his hack. As
he came rushing out, the students hissed
: and hailed him, ‘Benson how ungallant you
are, running away from your bride.’ His
carriage was soon got ready, and in jumped
Benson, groomsmen, and old Pell, driving
off at the rate often miles an hour.
‘After their departure, the evening pas
sed off merrily, the good fortune of Tim,
and the discomfiture of Benson and old Pell,
furnishing matter of conversation and
laughter for the whole party. The assem
bly broke up at a late hour, and departed
for their respective homes.
The next morning the servant announced
the arrival of Mr. Pell at Farrningdell
Park, accompanied by his lawyer, Mr.
Ridgely. Pell directed the servant to sum
mon Mrs. Winthrop, Tim and Eliza to the
parlor. The servant departed for that pur
pose, and in a few minutes they entered
the parlor, where Pell and Ridgely had
seated themselves
(VOLUME XXIX.