Newspaper Page Text
JHE TIMES,
• published every W ednesday morning,
| KTHK ORAIt IT E BUILDING,
vJoraer of Oglethorpe and Randolph streets, by
ft. FOKSVTH, A M. 10I1>ST\,
PROPRIETORS.
Yl-JRMS—Three Dollars per annum, payable
<Uuari i4y in advance,far new subscriptions.
. too pap r will 6e discontinued while any arrearages
is due, unless at the option of the proprietor, and
FOUR hollars will in all cases be exacted wciiere
payment is not made before the expiration ofthe
subscription year.
ADVEitTISEMENTS conspicuously inserted at
One Dollar per one hmdred words,for the first
insertion,and fifty cents for every subsequent
continuance.
All Advertisements, sent to us without Specify
ing the number of insertions desired, will he con
tinued until ordered out, and cbarged accordingly.
Legal Advertisements published at the usual
rates, and with strict attention to the requisitions
of the law.
Sheriff's Sales under regular executions, must
be advertised for thirty days; under mortgage
fi fas, sixty days before the day of sale.
Salks of Land and Negroes, Uy Executors, Ad
ministrators or Guaidiaus, for sixty days before
the day of sale.
Salks of personal property (except negroes) forty
DAYS. ,
Citations by Clerks of Courts of Ordinary, upon
application for letters of administration are lobe
published for thirty days.
Citations upon application for dismission, by
Executors, Administrators or Guardians, month
ly for six months.
Orders of Courts of Ordinary, (accompanied with
a copy of tho bond, or agreement) to make iito
to land, must be published three months.
.Notices by Executors or Administrators or Guard
nans, of application to the Court of Ordinary for
leave to sell the Land or Negroes of an estate,
* *©UR MONTHS. . . . al
Notices by Executors or adinmist rators, to the
Detrters and Creditors of un estate,for six WEEKS
Letters to the proprietors on business, must
fee p6SV ‘p aid, to entitle them to attention.
j LAW NOTICES.
C. S. Rockwell,
ATTORNEY” AT LAW;
Columbus, Ga.
Office on Broad Street, o.ur Mr. LeGav's Jewel
ry Store.
April!, I*ls, Id—'f
cone & Williams,
attorneys at law.
Columbus, Georgia.
OFFICE in Hooper’s New Building; East
side Broad street, ne.r the irtarkut.
FRANCIS H CORE, I
OHARLES I. WILLIAMS. $
j April 2, IS. I 4 — lf -
Robert B, Lester
4 Attorney at law,
, . Tazewell Marion County Ga.
Rarebit 1845, 12—lv.
VtillLui* Mizelli
Attorney at law;
Tazkwkll, Marion CoUNtr, Ga.
March 5, 1815, 11—ty
. . LAW NOTICE;
ITAYINO associated ottrsolves togetliet in the
U. practice of tho LAW tinder the name of
STEINIjK. & RICHARDS,
Vo will attend the several Courts m the Counties of
Chambers, Russell, Macbn; Ta'lejlwsa & Randolph,
and the Supreme Court of the State.
Otfic. next door to the I’oU O.lice, LaFavette Ala.
JOHN J. BTIiINKR,
i EVAN G. RICHARDS.
Feh. 2*1815. 9—Siit.
Janies IYI. iflitckell,
ATTORNEY A T L AW,
Resilience —Diitupkiri, Georgia.
WlljL devote his attention h ereafter, exclusive-
Iv tp Hia profession, and will attend punctu
ally to alf business entrusted to his cure, in any coun
ty in die Chattahoochee dr douth-Weatern Circuits.
Eeb S. 1815 6-ly
j. s. mitchcii,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
STARttsvltLE, LeE Cos. Ga.
February “5,1815- 6—ly.
Williitnt 11. martin,
SdLIctTOR AND ATTORNEY AT
Law.
Office; In Girard, Alabama.
Respectfully tenders his profcscionii
serVibes iij the public generally ; he lakes this
method of apprising his patrons, tnat he makes no
. fcollcctions for less than ten per cent, on any sum
Rot exceeding one thousand dollars, his reasons for
this publication,is to g tt? gerieral notice to those who
have already intrusted him li their business, with
bttt special contract ; that ihey miiy wiihdraw the
iamo If they prefer, and all future patrons if any, may
expect to be governed by this noilce.
WM. B. MARTIN.
January 8, 1845 2—ly
|c —
LAW NOTICE.
William B. Pryor
HAS settled himself in the Town of LaGrnrige
Troup courtly, Geoigia, and will practice
la** m thb Comities of TrOrtp, Meriwether, Coweta,
Campbell, Carrrtll and Heard, of the Coweta Circuit
—and Harris, Miiscogoe dnd Talboi of the Chatta
hoochee Circuit.
Dec 18. 1844 51—ly
Taylor & Gouckc,
ATTORNEY’S AT LAW;
CuTttBKRT, (Randolph countv,) Ga.
Til E undersigned having nssocia cd tliemsnlvvs
iu the practice of thLaw, will give their at
tention to any business confided to them in the coun
ties of Randolph, Early, Baker, Lea, Sumter, Dooly
and Decatur in tho Soitthweslcrn, and Stewart of Ihe
Chattahoochee circuits, Titov will a ; so attend the
courts in Barbour and Henry counties in Alabama.
WILLIAM TAYLOR.
LEWIS A.GONEKE.
November 13 1844. 46—ly.
Recst! fit Dcnnard,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW;
Crawford Ala.
•CHARLES s. Reese, 3
a. r. DIMUD. )
Sept. 18, 1844. 38— ly.
E. 11. Platt,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
■ Albany, Baker County, Ga.
Jan 1. 1845 I—if
Burks A Stephenson,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW;
TALBOTTON, QA.
AMCS M. BURKS, )
JAMES L. STEPHENSON )
tFob 28, 1844 9—ts
COLQUITT & COOK,
ATTORNEY’S AT LAW;
LA GRANGE, GEORGIA.
Will practice in the counties of Troup, Meriwether,
Coweta, Fayette, and Carroll.
Walter T. Colquitt, Columbus,Ga.
grange. 84—tt
DISSOLUTION,
fMHB Law’’firm of IVERSOIL FORSYTH
XL’ & MEIGS, is dissolved by ho retirement ql
JJ.’ y. MEIGS, Esq'. The business of the office
Will be continued by Alfred {verson, and John For
pylh, under the style of
IVERSON & FQRSYTU.
JO* t. St F. have removed to th c new building
Past side of Broad Street, near the Market.
sd stairs, over IVs. Bratinaft’s Store.
” Noy 29, 1844. 4T—if
Oc4Col a nud Alabainn Blanks
for sale at this orrics.
)£ Cfltttnbtts dimes’
FORSYTII & JOHNSTON, EDITORS.]
JeeassKV
FOR THE TIMES.
“THE WORLD'S ILLUSIVE LIGHT.”
Delusive Hope ! no more allure—
Where now thy promised bliss ?
True joy a home moie pure—
A fairer clime than ibis ;
The flowers that bloom at opening day,
Arraved in colors bright,
Are fading—but more fleet than they
“ Tne World’s illusive light.”
The IVorld ! alas ! its faithless smile,
Is like the trembling ray.
That cheers the traveller, the while.
It leads him far astrav.
We gaze Upon the hue that blends,
With evenings tranquil sky,
Unconscious with the joy it lends,
That darkness dreweth nigh.
We live, but in a worlJ of dreams, —
Os visions, false and fair,—
What for a moment substance seems,
The next —is empty air ! M k
We smile at thought of coming joy 6,
But soon are doom'd to find
The fancied pleasures, like the toys,
That first deceived the mind.
But though the world is dark and dreary,
There is one ray to bless,
Whose steady lusire shines to cheer,
Earth’s utter loneliness,
tl shines afar—yet brightly burns,
. Like Hesperus at even,
Bill man too oft its glory spurns,
And scorns —the hope of Heaven.
juvenllls pof.Ta.
Emory College, Ga. April Bth, 1845.
NOT ON THE B ATTLE FIELES.
BY JOH* PIERPONT.
” lo fight on ihc bailie field for my dear coun
try —that would not be hard.”
Tub Nkighlorj.
O no. me lie
Not on a field of battle, when t die !
Let not the iron tread
Ofthe mad war-horse crush my helmed head .
Nor let the reeking knife,
That l have drawn against a brother's lifo,
Be in my lißv.d when death
Thunders along, and tramples ine beneath
His heavy squad ton’s heels,
Or gory felloos of Ins cannon's wheels.
From such a dying bed,
Tho&gh o’er il float the stripes of white and red,
And the, bald eagle brings
Tho clustered stars upon his wide-spread wings,
To sparkle in my sight,
O, never let my spirit take her flight!
I know that beauty’s eye
la all the brighter where gay pennants fly,
And brazen helmets dance,
And sunshine flashes on the lifted lnrtco ;
I know that bards have qnqg
And people shouted till the welkin rung
In honor of the brave
Who on the battle-field have found a grate],
I know that o'er their hones
Have grateful hands piled monumental stones.
Sonic of ilio<e piles I've seen ;
The one at Lexington, upon the green #
Where the first blood was sh-dj
‘t'hat to mv country’s independence led ;
And others, on our shore,
The ‘‘Battle Monument’’ at Baltimore,
And that <>ri Bunker’s Hid,
Ay, find abroad, a few more famous still:
Thy “tomb,” Themistncles,
That looks out vet upon the Grecian seaj
Apd which the waters ki*s
That issue from the gulf oftialtxmis.
And thine, too, have I sent,
Thy mound of earth, Pat roe! u*, robed in green,
■ That, liken nd-urdl knoll,
Sheep climb and nibble over, as they stroll,
Watched by some turban* and boy,
Upon the margin ofthe plain of Troy,
Such honors grace the bed, >
t know, whereon the wdrrjor levs Ins y:ad,
Arid he-s, as lift* ebbs out, ™
The conquered tlvirtg.and the conquerer’s shout.
But, as fiis eye gfqws dim,
What is a column or a mound to him ?
Whht.to the parting soul,
The mellow not*- of bugles * What the roll
Os drums 1 No: let me die
Where the blue heaven bonds o’er me lovingly,
And ihe soft summer air,
As it goes by me, stirs my thin white hair, •
And from my dries
The death-damp as it gathers, and the skies
Seem waiting to receive t
My soul to their clear depths ! Or let me leave
The world, when round mv lied
Wife, childretl, weftping friends are gathored,
And the calm voice of prayer
And holy hymning shall my soul prepare
To go and bo at reU
With kindred spirits.—spirits who have blossed
The human brotherhood
By labors, cares ar.d counsels for their good.
And in my dying hour,
When riches, fame and honor have no powvr
To bear tho spirit up,
Or froin mv lips to titrn aside the ctip
That all must drink at ‘ast,
O, let me draw refreshment f oni the past !
Then let my soul run back,
With peace and joy, along itiy ftarthly trafck,
And sec that all the
That I lnve scattered there, in virtuous deeds,
Have sprung up, and have given,
Already, fruit of winch to taste in heaven!
And though no grassy mdund
Or grftnile pile say ’tis hrivic ground
Where my remains repose,
Still will l hope—vain hope, perhaps! that those
Whom I have siriven to bless,
The wanderer reclaimed, the fatherless,
May stand aroiind my gravft,
With the poor prisoner, and the poorest slave,
And breathe an humble prayer,
Th*t they may die like him whose bones aro moul
deiing there.
A True Picture.—The picture of a
Southern planter, as we too olten find him,
is from the graphic pea of our Iriend Wil
son, of ihe Planter’s Banner, (Franklin Lou
isiana.) There is a deuced sight more
truth than poeiry in it. By-and by our
planters will probably learn a lit le gump
tion, and then we shall be happy to see
the picture reversed, but until theu candor
compels us to acknowledge its correct
ness:
“Now for (he picture of the planter—He
wouldn’t sell a chicken or a dozen eggs, or
a bushel of peaches, nor a calf (or any con
sideration. He raises cotton—he does ! lie
rides in a 600 dollar carriage, for which he
goes in debt. His daughters thrum on a
piano that never will be paid for. He buys
corn which he could raise at ten cents a
bushel, and pays sixty cents for it, after 24
per cent to his commission merchant. He
could raise his own tobacco, yet he pays 83
a pound for “ Richmond scented.” lie
ceuld raise his own hogs—yet he patronizes
Cincinnati. The consequences are disas
trous. Being the possessor of one staple, he
fluctuates with the market of that article.—
He takes the “ Prices Current”—he pays
postage—he gobbles down the English news
like a cormorant. If he sells to day, he’ll
lose—therefore he’ll wait for better advices.
He is “mixed up” in cotton, and a gambler
therein. Meantime he wants money ; drafts
on his faclor! .Ue wants cotton goods and
cloths for his plantation, that he could make
ai home. He orders them, and feels “large.”
The manufacturer, the insurer, the shipper,
the freighter, the draymen, the warehouse
trjan, the seller, and finally the commission
merchant, all finger in the pie of profits, and
the proud, foolish planter pays then) all.—
The year closes, and he is up to ips eye
brows in debt! This is the result of his not
“calculating” nor even guessing the differ
ence between farming and planing—One
supports a family ; the other supports pride,
uutil • pride gels a fall.’”
THE raiosi OF THE STATES, AND THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE STATES.
DIISCELLAKY.
THE VEILED LADY;
OR, tv no CAS SfTE BE?
BY NED BUNTLINE.
“ 55 itli the reugh blast heaves the billow,
(tl the light airuavts the willow,
Every thing of moving kind
Varies wttli the veering wind ;
V\ hat have I to do with thee,
Dull, anjoyous constancy ?”—Joanna Bailik
“ Dp. thy charmed armor don,
Thou’il need it ete the night be gone?”—Drake.
“ Dulce, will you go to the masquerade
ball, to-night!” said 1 to my lesser-half, on a
bright evening during the gayest part ofthe
“carnival season,”in Cuba.
“ No, my atnor,” answered she ; ‘‘l am ill
this evening ; don’t go out to-night, but stay
by my side, and let your cheering presence
save a doctor’s fee.”
“Madame, you know that 1 had made up
my mind to go out in my new cabellero’s
dress ; you are not very ill ; and I shall be
dull company for you if disappointment holds
a berth in nty mind. \ r ou had betler consent
tc my going ; I will return early.”
“ Do as you please, sir,” site responded,
poutingly ; “hut if you neglect me tints in
the first year of our marriage, how shall I be
treated when Time’s shadow shall darken
tny brow, and dim the light of my eyes;
when my spirits shall droop, and my beauty
fade, be'ore the wintry frosts of age!”
To shorten tny yarn, reader, I rigged my
self and went to the ball, mv heart beating a
“ conscience-tattoo” against its casing all the
way ; for well I marked the soft reproach
which my wife’s fuii daik eye spoke when t
left her side.
Having strived at the ball room, I mingled
with the gay maskers, listened to the music,
and in the sparkling wiue-glasa sought for
excitement; yet that perpetual drum-stick
of conscience kept thumping against the
parciitnent-head ol reflection, & 1 did not feel
happy. Dressed as attractively as possible,
1 sought and danced with the fairest maidens
in the throng ; yet still, Thought, that nettle
in life’s garden, kept Joy in a distant offing,
and Pleasure far in tny wake.
I was about to give up the chase for en
joyment, and had dutifully made tip my mind
to return heme and moor myself alongside of
my little wife, When a fair hand was laid
geiitly upon my arm, and a tremulous, musi
cal voice asked me, in a whisper, to retire a
little from the crowd. The hand was deli
cate, and seemed smaller even than mV wife's;
and the taper fingers were encircled by tings
of rare value, such as could only be worn by
the rjch and titled. The lady was Closely
veiled in black ; yet I caught one glimpse of
eye-light through the thick crape, in the
blackness of a night-storm, t have seen
the clouds for a moment open and permit a
star to glance with supernatural brightness
down on the agitated ocean ; and even so fell
that glance on tne. The voice was one of
(hose which, when it falls upon the ear, vi
brates along every nerve until il readies the
heat (-strings, where it echoes and re-echoes,
till JJemory “catches the tune,” and too
truly for ilever to pass from her grasp.
I lolluwcd Ihe stranger’s invitation ; and
as ! gazed on tho fairy'form which flitted be
fore me, I forgot my little invalid at home.
The “mask” Was but little if any larger
than my wife ; vet there was a fullness and
elegance of figure, a grace and voluptuous
ness of motion in the former, which 1 had
never observed in the latter. My wife Had
beautifully soft, glossy curls of jet, but they
could never compare with the black tresses
of twining silk, which hiing nearly tc’lie
feet of my strange charmer.—When wo had
got clear of Ihe tnrong, sho again spoke :
“ Arc you a gentleman !—one on whom a
lady may in all honor depend !’*
I answered; that to the lie-t of my knowl
edge and belief 1 was, and thought I might
be depended upon.
“Would vou risk your own life, or destroy
that of another, fur a lady, if her honor re
quired, add her love would reward the act!”
“For one so fair, so angelic as yourself, I
would risk mors than life !”
A shudder seemed to pass through her
form ; her little Feet stampted the tesselnted
floor impatiently ,’ her fingers wore clasped
together until they were hloodloas; as site
continued :
“ Have you ever loved ?”
“ I may have felt a schoolboy's passion,”
I replied, with assumed ind llbronce.
“ Then yon are not married !”
” 1 have been,” was my reply; Even so
deceitful is man ; even so is woman often
lost ; for while he pours forth his flittering
tale, she listens ; listening, she loves—loving,
she is lost.
Again Bhe showed marks of impatienco and
excitement, as if some great trouble rested
on her mind. This I pressed Iter to reveal
to me, offering every aid in my power to de
fend her, or even to avenge past wrong. 1
besought Iter to have confidence in my affec
tion, new-fledged though it was, and to test
its strength, even as she m ght direct. Site
faltered, hesitated for a moment, and then,
requesting tne to await her return, hastily left
the ball-room.
“ Now,” thought I, “hero is a scrape for
a sober married man to get into ! Perhaps
she may be some beautiful syren, who has
laid a trap to inveigle and rob, and perhaps
to murder me ! Shall 1 await her return?—
or shall I fly the danger? But I am armed
why should I fear ?”
1 began also to think of my poor invalid
wife ; and these thoughts, coupled with my
fear of betrayal, by the aid of a little more
solitude, would have conquered me, and sent
me home ; but, at this critica 1 moment, the
“mask” returned, bearing in her hands a
heavy black veil. She beckoned me to follow
her iuto a neighboring street, where, in a
moment, we stood beside a close-curtained
volante, into which she sprang, I followed
her. She immediately enveloped my head
In the veil which she had brought, cautioning
me on my life not to attempt to remove it,
unless al her request.
The carriage started off with speed ; in
deed, the driver seemed to be urging bis
horses to a rapid gallop. Our road was
long ; for even at this speed we must have
ridden for two hours, some of tho lime over
rough, rocky roads, and then along smoother
ways, when at laet the panting animals were
brought to stand.
Immediately thereafter I beard a creaking
noise, as if a port-culiis were suddenly raised,
or some old gate swung back on its unoiled
binges.
‘‘Speak not a word, whatever you may
hear ; nor raise the veil, or your life and
mine may be the forfeit 1” whispered my
fairguide ; and while she spoke 1 lelt that
she trembled from head to foot. Her hand
was cold as ice, and her impeetuous voice
stifled and husky. Before we advanced from
the carriage, she also made me vow by all
the saints in Hsaven, never to reveal what I
might do qr see in that nif fit’s adventure.
Bhe then led me cautiously on, apparently
through a large garden, for the cool night
breeze bore the perfume of orange, citron,
pink, Jemon and spice blossoms to my cheek.
COLUMBUS, GA. WEDNESDAY, APRIL 23, 1815.
We soon arrived at another door, which
creaked ruatily as it opened before us ; and
then our way seemed up a winding stone
staircase, through a passage so still, so so’
letnnly silent, that it even echoed the light
foot-lall of my companion, while my own
heavy tread rang, like groans in a cavern,
through the still, damp air.
Until now, the lady had not spoken since
we had stepped from the volante ; but, as
wo arrived at the top of the stairs, arid passed
into a warmer atmosphere, she whispered
that the hour to test my courage and love
had arrived. We stepped across a soft car
pet, and she seated me on a yielding cushion.
I could see nothing through the thick veil
j vvhich'slte had thrown over my face, yet a
kind of blueishnesa in the darkness before me,
convinced me that I was in a lighted room.
No sound could I hear, save tho suppressed
breathing of my trembling companion, and
the beating of my own heart. After re
maining lor a moment on the ottoman, which
shook from nervousness, she again addressed
mo :
“ You are armed with pistol and dagger ?”
“ I atn,” said I, inwardly praying tiiat I
might have no occasion to use them.
“You will please give me those weapons,”
said she.
•• Alt !” thought! ; “I am betrayed ; and
site asks my weapons of defence, that I may
he made an easier prey ! Let me ask,!’ said
I, “your reasons for tins strange requesj?”
“ A true lover never asks for reason^ front
one in whom ho confutes answered tho
“mask ;” adding.—“ Tito business I hjtve in
hand for you has need of courage, calpmess
and prudence ; hut your weapons couljl avail
you nothing. They will not be required ”
She shuddered as she spoke ; adding quick
ly : “Such as they have already dune too
much !”
She paused a moment, and seemed to bo
schooling herself to some dreadful task.—
Again she addressed me :
“ I have a tala to tell you, sir ; no, not a
tale, but some questions to ask. Had you
an ouly sister, one who was young, fair; in
nocent, and ignorant of the world’s wicked
ness, and thus unprepared to cope with vile
art and sinfulness; and should she meet with
one who was in appearance all full of noble
ness, purity, generosity, and true manliness;
and; in her own full heartedness, should she
love him only as woman in nature’s simplici
ty can love ; and should he takuig foul ad
vantage of her affection for him, work her
hlin, and hiving succeeded, then scornljutly
leave her without reparation, an outcast from
even his bosom ; a dark thing upon the
world ; unwilling to live, unprepared to die ;
and should she, in the hour when he spurned
her, a dishonored thing, from his feet; even
when she was pleading for the love and pro
tection of one who with hellish art had
wrought her ruin ; should she in that dire
moment of crowded miseries strike a pomard
to his iieait •”
“She would nobly do her duty !” cried I,
excited to madness by the painful picture.
“Would you aid her in removing all tho
proof of ciime?” continued the “mask;’
“would you assist that poor girl to place be
neath the dark earth all that was earthly of
Iter defiler ?”
“I would I If thou art she, lead on. lam
ready; ay, ready to do more! Would that
my hand instead of thine had sent the re
cieant’s soul to its hissing home ! 1 love thee
now better than before. True; thou hast
been dishonored, but thou art revenged !”
“Be uot too hasty, sir,” said she , “ let
me sketch you one other picture, before I
call on you foraciion. Again 1 will suppose
you have an only sister. 1 will suppose her,
with your full knowledge and cotisent, to
have given Iter afl’ectibns and her hand to one
whom you believe to be noble, manly, and
and in every way calculated to make her
know tho true bliss of existence. She loves
him, even oner the bounds of this world’s
adoration ; watches for hia stitilh as the flow
er beaten down by the rain waits for the sun
shine ; sighs and droops when the clouds of
sorrow’ cast their shadows over him ; joys
when hiS hopes brighten ; ministers to every
comfort, and seems a being aa closely bound
to him as light is to .the diamond. Suppose
that lie to whom you have entrusted her, the
innernt si heart jewel of yourself; the bright
corner ofvourdotnaslic fire-side ; imagine he
should grow cold and unmindful of her
peace ; that his love for her should fade ;
that her smile should fall upon him cold as
torch-light on a funeral pall ; that her voice
should no longer be music to his oar, that ho
should seek fur other smiles, and give to oth
er ears the words which were alone her due,
when you saw her droopmg, fading, dying,
beneath the shadow of hia neglect, what
would you do ?” .
“Slay him ! by the Hand which made
me! I would slay him as a dog that had bit
ten or a serpent that had stung me !”
Fjven as 1 spoke, I thought of my oWn de
serted wife, and Conscience ‘.took a pull at
the halliards” of my heart, and wrung it to
the very core. I fell as if 1 could have given
a world, had it been mine to give, if I could
he placed alongside the couch of tny lonelv
bride ; and I vowed in tny soul never to
grieve her again, should I return unharmed
from the dreadful scenes of that night.
“Lady,” said I, “if your first tale be, as 1
feel it is, true ; if you have slain him who
wrought your ruin, and have chosen me to aid
you in your dreadful task, I pray you hasten
the deed. Let there be no delay.”
“Then follow me!” said she > “ you need
not follow far.”
She led me on a few steps, into what I
supposed to be another room; here she bade
me to pause, and calm myself. I must ac
knowledge that 1 felt greatly agitated ; but
mustering all my self-poasession andpresence
of mind, 1 prepared to cast aside the veil, at
her bidding and determined not to shrink
from the horrible duty which lay before nte.
She lifted the veil from my head. A
blaze of light forced me to close my eyes;
and then 1 dared not open them; Imagina
tion fainted a scene belore me which I fear
ed to gaze upon. At last shame unclosed
my eye-lids, and I gazed around, * * •
Surprise almost stunned me.
It could not be ! —yet so it teas ! 1 stcJ&d
within tny own bed-room I The stranger
raised her mask. My wife’s large black eyes
looked sorrowfully out upon me ; she cast
the long tresses of glossy hair from her head;
and then appeared her own soft curling ring
lets playing about Iter neck. She had fallen
upon this plan to punish me for seeking
pleasure ai a time when she, by reason of
sickness and guttering, contd not enjoy it
with me. She had indeed taught me a lcs
sou of conjugal fidelity.
My own volante had driven me at full
speed over half the city ! I had been led
through a back-gale and had traversed a part
of my house which I had never before enter
ed ; and all through tho contrivance of my
witch of a wife ! Borrowed jewels had dis
guised her hands ; she bad spoken in an al
tered voice beneath her mask ; and 1, had
actually fallen in love with my own wife ?
What a fix'for a married man to be in !
From Uie Madisonian.
A CRUISE IN THE EAGLE.
BY A REETKR.
My “leave of absence for three months”
had expired but a week, when on calling at
the village post office, a yellow document
with the Navy Department stamp was
placed in my hand. On opening it. I found
myself ordered to report in seven days for
the United States frigate Eagle, then fitting
out at Brooklyn, New York. She was a
crack ship, and I was pleased to be selected
as one of her officers.
The novelty of home had worn off. I had
ceased to receive all the attentions of a
guest, and relapsed into nty former situa-
J Lon, aseneo? the boys of the family, in
spite of my assumed and gnity and numerous
insinuations that they were soon to lose
the charming society of an important officer
:n the Tnited States Navy. But to tell the
j truth I believe they were growing some
what weary of me. My Munchausen ac
counts of a two years’ cruise round the Horn
had ceased to elicit the respectful attention
ol the Htnily, and the only auditor who
now manifested tho slightest interest in
my yarns, was a pretty little black eyed
girl the chosen playmate of my sister and
her constant companion. Her father was
the village physician, a man of some acquire
ments anti universally beloved. .Mary
was his only child, her mother bad died in
giving her birth; the mournful circumstance
attached a deeper interest in the Doctor’s
heart toward Ins beautiful daughter. And
Mary Gray Was all sweetness of disposi
tion—a warm heart, filled with the most
pleasing sentiments of nature. None asso
ciated with her without feeling their hearts
warm toward the interesting creature.—
’ rwas but natural I should love her; and
il there was a pang to my feelings on read
ing tny orders a second time, it was the
idea ol being separated from Mary Gray.
I hurried home and entered the parlor
where my mother aud sister were seated—
neither paid me any atien'ion, as was their
habit on my first return home. I noticed
this falling off, and secretly rejoiced at the
prospect of their respect and attention re
turning (as I knew it would) when informed
that their midshipman was soon to leave
them.
A sad parting with my family, a tender
adieu from Mary Gray, wi.h a memento of
her kind regards, and 1 was, on the fourth
day from the receipt of my orders, on my
way to join the Eagle, I arrived in due lime,
reported to the commanding officer, and unce
again was au inmate of the steerage, the
midshipman’s home, his bed room, parlor
and dining apartment ’Tis the most re
markable part of the ship, without comfort,
yet has the happiest occupants It is
tiio scene of his youth. The steerage
officers are a gay, wild, reckless, devil-may
care set; fun and fr> lie ever uppermost in
their thoughts, till the period of their exam
ination draws near, when at interval they
are more sedate and studious. A midship,
man was scarce ever known to be sad, un
less pul in watch and watch for punish,
menl, and then only with the momentary
reflection on the quantity cf sleep which he
was to be deprived oi. Blow high or blow
low, wet or dry, hot of cold, in danger or
out, the steerage is the same helter-skelter,
noisy, fun and frolicksotrle spot.
The gallant Eeagle was ready lor sea,
and on a beautiful Sunday morning in
June, when the hells were tolling for the
assemblage of the church goers, we tripped
our anchor, and, with all sail set, stood out
to sea, (leaving crowded Battery and tall
church-spires behind,) seeking the deep
blue waves of old ocean. There were a
few sad faces, many sentimental expres
sions, and a crowded letter bag on the cap
stan, containing doubtless the last tender
adieus of some love-sick swain; who breath
ed vows of eternal devotion. There was
one letter in that hag for Mary Gray.
VVe passed the Narrows, crossed the bar,
dismissed our pilot, and soon old Never
sink belied its name and sank in the dim
ness of distance. VVe were away from the
land, ofthe wide spread ocean, a clear blue
sky above and good westerly breezes pro
pelling us along at 7-0 the hour. Our des
tination was the Mediterranean; every one
on board was delighted with the idea of vis
iting the old world, with its classical asso
ciations.
It is a glorious feeling to be on board a
fine dashing frigate, well manned and offi
cered —you may indeed feel the force of
Byron’s sentiment—“ Who would brave tho
battle fire, the wreck,” &c. A fast ship
will make active officers, for the association
will naturally bear upon tho formation of
the young aspirant.
’Tis an axiom, “ A dull Ship makes dull
ofTwers.” Who ever took an interest in a
dull horse? An interest in a ship is the
great requisite in learning the profession of
sailors. What service can a slow man-Uf
war render? None. She can neither flee
from a superior force, nor overhaul au e
qual or’ inferior. Had “ Old Iron Sides’’ not
possessed the sailing qualities (or which
she is remarkable, Hull would not have
escaped from the English fleet, or the Java,
Guerrier, Cayne and Levant been humbled
by her broadsides.
The Eagle was indeed a fast ship, well
commanded and wholesome man-of-war
discipline administered on board. No weak
inventions of a shallow sconce—no scan
dalous and unseemly punishments that on
ly serve to irritate arid engender disgust
When a man commuted an offence, after
the lapse of twenty-four hours, he was pun
ished according to law.
The steerage of the Eagle was composed
ol twenty various characters, free from care
and trouble; Ihe blythe song, merry jest,
and boisterous laugh ever sounded among
them. Time floated gaily along with fair
and pleasant breezes. .In twenty tour days
we entered tho straits of Gibraltar and an
chored under the high, bold and invulnera
ble rock, with its countless bulldogs,frown
ing from the numerous embrasures aud port
holes.
VVe had scarcely anchored, when our
Consul came alongside, and handed us or
ders from the Commodore, to join him,
without an hour’s delay, in Smyrna. “All
hands up anchor !” soon knocked all on
shore.going anticipations into a cocked hat,
and in one hour from our anchorage we
had rounded Europea Point. Tho wind
blew strong iron! the noilh and east, bring
ing into action the finest qualities of the
swift Eagle;- in four days we made the bold
promontory of Cape Matapan, and the high
land of Morea; Greece, venerable Greece
was in sight—my head filled with Leoni
das, Socrates, Thetnistocles, and the elo
quent Demosthenes—l gazed upon the high
land of Greece, and almost imagined the
ftecy cloud3, that moved slowly over the
surface of the mounts, were the martial my
riads of Xerxes approaching the pass of
Thermoplae.
[VOL. V.—NO 17.
But a midshipman’s brain is generally so
unsettled in its fancy, he dwells but a inn
ment on objects surrounding him—a light
touch of imagine tion—and catching up some
other object, lie glances over it, pleased and
appreciating, but not with the attentive
scrutiny of a connoisseur, hrlging every cir
cumstance and beauty into light. The
entrance to tho Archipelago is exceedingly
interesting—each isle the location of some
classic association—keeping alit e the feeling 1
of interest constantly awakened in a Medi j
terrarican cru : se. VVe passed between Cen |
go and main land, making a direct course ;
lor Milo, as our captain intended toobtainaj
pilot front there, which we did at no m with- i
out entering the harbor. Our course wasj
now among the numerous islands for Smvr-1
na—land in sight both day and night. At j
8 o’clock P. M. on the day of obtaining our)
pilot, we were becalmed. The wind fori
twenty four hours hail been variably, ac-|
entnpanied by rain and occasional squalls.
The[calm was an ominous one, and the bar-1
ometer gave indication of ugly times—our j
pilot became uneasy—a quivering light,
aurora borealis, flashed dimly in the North
ern heavens, and heavy, dull clouds dark
en the sky. All hands were called; the top-1
satis close reefed, roynl and top gallant ‘
yards sent on dec!?, and top gallant masts
housed (orstruck.) Our master had care-!
fully watched with the azimuth compass j
the bearing of eacit point of land, till dark- j
ness ruled all objects.
The land lay to the southward—the west;
point of Paros bore S. VV.—the east point of j
Naxos E. S. E., with a northerly wind.—
VVe had a lee shore, but with daylight could
make with safety Ihe passage between
Naxos and Paros. At night ’uvas impossi
ble.
So clustering are the islands in the Ar
chipelago that navigation, in the most fa
vorable weather, is at night perplexing; and
many fine vessels have been lost, by mis
taking the d.ffereut islands stealing a wrong
course. The dark clouds began to lift and j
break assunder to the northwatd, present |
ing a wilJ, frightful appearance—a diora-1
mal scene of giant forms battling in the
heavens. The lightning flashed, and tiie
rumbling thunder roared over the sea, shak
ing earth to its centre - showing feeble
man the significance of earth’s exc.leinent
when heavtm open its terrific voice.
Bail was reduced to close reefed fore main
top-sail, fore-storm-staysail & main spencer.
The courses were close reefed and furled,
for we knew not how soon a “lee shore”
would call for a heavy press of canvass.—
The blast tame; to “beat up” was impossi
ble; we must hold our own, for every foot
to windward was safety. The gallant lrig
ato must stand the brunt—and nobly did
she act her part—watched by experienced
eyes, her helm in the hands of iron-nerved
quartermasters who had braved the billows
in their most terrible ntoods.
On cateered tho brave Eagle, rushing
through the foam of water, the wind howl
ing amid the tautened cordage, singing a
thousand storm songs, and heaving up the
boscm ofthe sea in violet.t contortions of its
surface: Our only chance of safely was to
keep sail on bet, and hold uur own during
the night; at dawn we could see to “make a
lee,” or run for Milo, if necessary. Such
was the detetmination of our captain—the
pilot did not consult, or interrupt in his pa
thetic appeals to the Virgin Mary; for the
moment the gale came on he fled to the
ward room, and continued on his knees
’till kicked out of the way by the signal
quartermaster, who went below, with hands
to attend the “relieving tackles.” The
stout Eagle battled nobly with the storm,
bending gracefully over, acknowledging the
power of infuriated Boreas, ami rose again
wtilt each high wave, easting oft’ the spray
or trembling with the dangerous ablution
of the Archipelago sea. The master hove
the log and watched the drift with axious
attention, overhauling the chart every few
moments with the captain. After running
three hours and a half on this tack, the or
der was given to gee everything ready for
“tDcarvig ship.” All below was secured,
and on deck the crew were at their stations,
waiting for the voice of command. Our
critical situation was well known; prompt
ness and precision were necessary in the
evolution, that we might lose as little
ground as possible. “ Wear ship,’’ said the
captain, in a calm tone; the order was echo
ed in clarion tones from the trumpet of ouf
first lieutenant and passed forward.
Scarce had the order been repeated, When
(he foretopsail was blown into a thousand
shreds, wnlt a sharp flapping wind of a
seconds duration. “Mind your weather
helm, quartermaster,” sang out the first
lieutenant. “Mind weather helm” was re
peated by the deep, resolute toned voice of
the helsman. The main spencer was brail
ed up, weather braces manned, the helm
put up, but for the once the Eaglo disobey
ed her rudder. “Tell the officer ofthe fore
castle to goose Wing the foresail, sir,” said
the first lieutenant to one of the midship
men. A stout lashing was passed round
the bun* of the foresail, wcat her gaskets and
clow garnets let go and the tack hauled
aboard. The main topsail clew lines and
humling, were also manned to take in the
topsail, if the goose-wing ofThe foresail
should not have the desired effect, viz: to
throw all the wind’s power forward of the
centre of motion and make her pay off; but
no sooner did the blast catch the clew ol
the foresail, than the Eagle acknowledged
its influence and flew oil from the wind, in
creasing her velocity—as the wind grew
aft—before the wind; the yards were squar
ed, foresail furled, fore slofm-s(ay.sail haul
ed down, back stays well set up, helmed
eased dmvn; rolling aud pitching in the
trough of the seas, the bulkheads groaning
as if in mighty pain, she catne slowly too
the starboard tack; the main spencer was
set, topsail braced up, wind abeam, the fore
storm staysail hoisted.
All was made snug on this tack, gallantly
behaved the Eagle in performing this evo
tion, which is but imperfectly related.—
The gale continued with undiminished fu
ry, but on this tack we would, ’twas hoped
be enabled to clear the western point of tko
Island—still ’twas doubitul—nothing but the
weatherly qualities of the Eagle would save
us. To bend anew foretopsail wa s an ut
ter impossibility—the fury of the blast
would not permit it—so loan unknown fate
we were dashing Over the agitated waters
hope—beaming through the gloom ol un
certainty— for we had eveiy confidence in
our commander, and the qualities of the
Eagle, though she labored over mountain
waves that seemed exerting their powers
to destroy. Now we rose high as if to
pierce the dark masses of clouds above aud
then sank low in the hollow of the sea, the
spray breaking wildly over us.
Ah, those who see a ship riding calmly
on the bosom ol some unruffled bay or tran
quil river, when the mariner rests from the
toils and vicissitudes of an ocean lile, may
imagine the sailor's career one bright hal
cyon day, devoid of the tils and nii.furtuue
shore going mortals are heirs to. But place
them on the deck ol a ship in uncertain navi
gation—no star to point out their danger—
no beacon light to warn of perils near—but
the mighty winds howling over, and agita
ting to a dread and fearful lieght, the ocean
billows—dark clouds frowning—the thun
der’s of heavens artillery pealing, while eve
ry crested ware washes o'er the struggling
croft—how soon would all his romance flte
before the stern reality of this wild and reck
less l.fe.
Anxiously waited the weary crew of the
Eagle lor the tnornig’s dawn; then they
would see their position and be enabled ter
handle with more confidence the frigate.—
Calm and obedient all stood to their sta
tion®, the effect of excellent discipline.—
Morning dawned, the scene was wild and
terrible. We had drifted more than was
anticipated, and to weather the dangerous
point was our only chance of safety.
“Set the courses,” said our commander,
and though it seemed madness itself, and
next to au impossibility for the frigate to
stand np under the canvass, the courses
j wt re set to claw clear of danger, she leaned
j over to the tempest, trembling in every joint.
i now mounting a wave and then madly
| dashing down, bowsprit under, as if diving
|to the bottom. We were very near the
I point, breakers make out on a shoal fi>r some
distance, and the sea over them was fright
; ful. “Sail, O!” sang out a dozen voices,
j There, on our lee beam was a small brig,
| struggling with the waves, her top-masts
! gone an I main yard; a lore aud tnair storm.
I stay-sail was all the canvass she could
j shoW: poor craft, her doom was sealed; no
j aid could relieve her. And though we
j were not safe, stillour own situation was
forgotten in simpathy fur thepoor brig.
| She was amid the breakers. A huge
| sea carried her high on its top, tossed Iter
; like a cork on tho caldron of break
ers that engulphed the unfortunate brig; she
| was seen no more. Our trial came. We
| struck the agitated waters, dashed over a
| bed foam, a mountain wave lifted us on its
j summit. I closed nty eyes. Home, pa
tents, Mary Gray, my prayers,*all flished
, through tny mind. There was aloud crash
and wild cry. I gazed with a shudder.
Wo had passed the danger. Our fore-yards
gone, lore-sail flying with the wind in tat
ters. A sea had boarded us in the waisfy
lodged in the fore-sail, sweeping all before
it; but we were under a lee, from the shoal,
comparatively smooth—hauled up under
the Island of Paros, and hove too till the
gale broke. Our escape in passing the
point was miraculous indeed; had the sea
, been calm we could not have have passed
[over the same spot;’twas a narrow shoal
and one huge sea, in mercy lifted us clear
of destruction.
In a few days we anchored in the beauti
ful bay of Smyrna.
Tiie Uses op Does. — Mr. Grund in a
letter published in Graham’s Magazine,
alluding to Eugene Sue, says “he lives
now by the product ol bis industry, in prince
ly style, but his enjoyments are troubled by
the constant fear of being poisoned by bis
political and religious adversaries. He has,
therefore, contracted an intimate friendship
with two large, beautiful Newfoundland
dogs, who aro his constant dinner and
breakfast Companions, and who always eat
first of every dish that is brought on the ta
ble. Il these judges of gastronomy pro
nounce in favor of it, by Hist eating a laige
quantity, with apparent relish, the author
of “ The Mysteries” and “The Wandering
Jew” partakes of it without further sctuple.
He believes dogs much more faithful than
men, and the sagacious instincts of a regu
lar Newfoundland superior to the science of
chemists and physicians.
We see it stated also; that ten Nswfound
land dogs have been imported into Paris,
for the putporse Os watching the banks of
the Seine, and experienced trainers arts
every day employed in teaching these mag
nificent animals to draw from the water
3tuffed figures of men and children. The
rapidity with which they cross and recrosa
the river, and come and go at the toice of
theii trainers, is truly marvellous. It is
hoped that these fine dogs, for whom hand
some kennels have been elected on the
bridges crossing the Seine, will tcuder great
service to tho cause of humanity.
Good Receipts for Mutton Cutlets
Stewed in their own Gravy. —Trim the
fat entitely from some of the cutlets taken
from the loin ; just dip them into cold wa
ter ; dredge them with pepper, and then on
both sides with flour ; rinse a thick iron
saucepan with spring water; and leave in it
about a table spoonful, atrafige the cutlets
in on flat layer, if it can be done convenient
ly, and place them over a gentle file, throw
tu a little salt when they begin to stew, and
let them simmer as softly as possible, but
without ceasing, from an hour and a quar
tet to an hour and a half. If dressed with
great care which they require, they will be
equally lender, easy of digestion and nutri
tious ; and being at the same time, free
from every thing which can disagree with
the most delicate stomach, the tcceipt will
be found a valuable one for invalids. The
mutton should he of good quality ; but tho
excellence of the dish depends mainly on its
lining most gently stewed, for, if allowed (0
boil quickly, all the gruvy will be dried up,
and the meat will be unfit for (he table.
The cutlets must be turned, when they aro
half done. A couple of spoonfults of w rier
for gravy may be added to them should they
not yield sufficient moistme ; but this is
rarely needful.— Acton’s Modern Cooking.
Yankees Everywhere One of theei*
changes says that midway between Cairo
and Suez, in the centre of the desert, there
is a shanty kept by a Yankee, who sells
coffee, tobacco, and other Yankee com
forts to travellers. We desire to know who
but a Yankee should open a house of ei*-
tertainnient in the midst of the desert soli
tudes, with any prospect of growing fa t by
the operation? Why 1 if a solilar*; foot
path for pilgrims lay across Moup.f Ararat
we should expect to hear that verita
ble Brother Jonathan had opei\ e j house of
“eniermainment for man be* JSIon llle ve
summit of the mountains -where he couiS
sell gingerbread and bee r , and other Yan
kee jtmcratks to the plodding traveller,--
Instead of being surged tha* a single
Yankee should b ave opened a huckster's
shop in the Arabian desert, our
only marvel i SI that some other has not*
before this, set down king side of him and
opened a'.t opposition grocery.
‘•For Yankees thtive w!ici*e*Cr the gun,
Bora his snecusciVe journeis run.”
The Losx Treasure Ship. —The Balti
more correspondent of the Courier, writes
that there have been lefters lecerved by
the airival of the Ship Constiiotion, from
those connected with the San Pedro expe
dition, who went out to the coast of the
Spanish Main to raise the Spanish man of
war San l’edro, sunk on the coast about
fifty years ago, having on board about $2.-
000,000 in specie, bullion and other mate
rials. They have succeeded in getting up
an anehor, some brass cannon, and several
dollars in silver. One of the dollars was
embedded in the timbers of the vessel about
four inches* earned, as is presumed, by
an explosion of the magazine which sunk
the ship. The stockholders are in high
spirits, and refuse SIOOO per share for the
stock which originallr cost SIOO.
[Y. Y. Gazette, 3d inst.