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COLUMBUS:
Monday Morning, October 30, 1850.
I.AIIOKST CITY CIRCULATION.
We call attention to the advertisement in
to-day’s Sun, of the new Dry Goods house of
Calhoun & Johnson. Mr. Calhoun is favora
bly known in our community, for many years
acting as clerk in the store of J. & J. Kyle, and
then as partner in the house of Kyle, Kveritt
& Cos. They have a fine stock—everything
splintering new. It is useless to tell the ladies
to give them a call—the bear announcement
is sufficient.
BISECTIONS.
Washington, Oct. 18.
The Democratic majority in Pennsylvania
is 5000. The Democrats have carried the
Legislature and eiectod 15 members to Con
gress.
In Indiana the Democrats have elected the
Governor by KtMlO majority, carried a majori
ty in the Legislature', and eiectod seven mem
bers to Congress.
In Ohio the Black Republicans have carried
the State, but, the Democrats elected seven
members to Congress.
For Congress in Indiana.
The following is the result of the Congres
sional election in Indiana:
Ist District—Lockhart, (Dcm.) 3,000 inaj.
2d “ English, “ 2,800 “
3d “ Hughes, “ 1,700 “
■lfli “ Foley, “ 1,200 “
sth “ Kilbern, (Rep.) 2,000 “
oth “ Gregg, (Dem.) 1,200 “
7th “ Davis, “ 1,000 “
Htli “ Wilson, (Itep.) 250 “
oth “ vote close.
10th “ Lowry, (Dem.) 500 “
Mill “ Petit, (Hep.) small maj.
This shows the popular vote in Indiana to
he Democratic by 0,150, and the Ninth Dis
trict yet to be decided.
■—■—
We find the following dispatch in the last
Savannah Republican:
Phit.adhi.phia, Oct. 16.—The Union State
ticket has triumphed by probably from three
to live thousand majority, notwithstanding the
Locofoco frauds, which amount to thirty thou
sand votes. J. P. Sanderson.
Doatli of Judge Joseph W. Lesesne.
The Mobile Register of Friday, brings tiie
melancholy announcement of the death of the
lion. Joseph W. Lesesne, who, with one of his
sons, was drowned oif Point Clear early Thurs
day morning. The suddenness of the shock,
and the melancholy character of the catas
trophe, says the Register, will lend fresh poig
nancy to the grief with which the community,
in which he occupied so large a sharo of pub
lic attention, will receive the announcement of
his decease. Judge Lesesne was a native of
Georgetown, S. C., but was for many years a
resident of Alabama, where lie early won a
reputation, to which, onnll occasions, whether
at the bar, on the bench, or in the Legislative
hulls, lie proved himself equal. A man of
rare endowments, varied accomplishments and
extensive acquirements, ho devoted them all
to the service of the South in her struggle for
emancipation—and the great party to which
lie belonged will mourn in him, the loss of one
of its ablest lyid most faithful champions. But
it is not now that his epitaph may bo written.
Loving hands will hereafter offer tribute to
his public and public and private worth ; but
now wo can only bow in silent grief to the
stroke we may not avert.
Query—Did anybody ever hoar anybody
say that Fillmore “ couldn’t carry a State in
the Union !”—Columbus Enquirer.
We are requested by the gentleman who
said it, to inform the Enquirer that ho has
seen nothing yet to change that opinion.
The Mercury learns that a protest has been
entered against the validity ol’ the election
for State Senator, and Representative to Con
gress from the Charleston District.
Gin House Burnt.
We learn from the Dadeville (Ala.) Banner,
that the Gin House of Gen. M. J. Bulger, in
Tallapoosa county, was consumed by tire on
Thursday night, the 9tli instant. It is sup
posed to have been the work of an incendiary.
Loss put down at $2,000.
The Mississippi River.
The Natchez Freetrader says the Mississip
pi is lower than at any period in our recollec
tion. Boats are grounding between Vicks
burg and this place, and at Natchez Island.
Last week.the Eclipse got aground just above
Vicksburg. She succeeded after three days
in getting off. The Princes is aground at
Ilole-ra-thc-Wall” and wo are informed that
at her bow there is but eighteen inches of wa
ter. Unless the river rises, the large boats will
have to carry smaller loads or quit running,
and give up tho trade to smaller crafts.
At the election for Mayor of Newark, N.
J., oil the 14th instant, Bigelow, Democrat,
was elected over his American opponent by
400 majority. The Americans last year were
largely in the ascendancy in Newark.
We learn from the Wetmnplm Dispatch,
that the lion. S. W. Harris, Representative
from that District, is at home very ill from an
attack of Typhoid fever.
Bad Aooident.
A few days ago, a little girl, seven years
old, daughter, of Mr. Erustein, of Columbia,
S. C., was strangled to death by the rope of a
swing, which, by some means, became entan
gled around her neck.
Governor Adams, of South t’arolinia, has
issued lus proclamation convening the Legis
lature of that State on the first Monday in No
vember, preparatory to casting tho vote of
the State for President, on Tuesday.
Conviction of Pynes.
We learn from the Lumpkin Pluindealev,
that Pynes, who killed his wife and threw her
into a well, a short time ago, was tried at the
recent term of the Superior Court of Webster
x county, and convicted. He has been seiuenc
■ edto be hung on the 28th of November.
From Ballou's Pictorial.
FIDELITY AND PRINCIPLE.
BY WILLIAM COMSTOCK.
Wiilowoti wife Aiitl married maid.
Betrothed, betrayer and betrayed— ScoU.
A singular circumstance occurred on board
the frigate B , while lying at. Callao, port.
of Lima, some thirty years ago.
It was near the hour of noon. The sun lay
hot upon the spar-deck. The afterguard and
forecastle-men were loitering about, some
seated between guns, engaged in reading,
mending their clothes, or in desultory con
versation; the toprnen aloft reclined on
the shady side of the lower mast-heads, while
tho officers, protected by the awning over the
quarter-dock, were gathered about the cap
stan, discussing some subject connected with
their profession.
On the gun-deck the waisters were growi
ng, as usual, at some trivial duty that they
had been called upon to perform; while the
neighborhood of the cabouse was occupied, on
the starboard side, by several old salts, witli
short black pipes in their mouths, and heads
partly sunk between their shoulders, who
were, doubtless, wondering that any man
should be dissatisfied with this sublunary ex
istence, who could get a plenty of grog and
tobacco.
On the other side of t lie cabouse, between
two of the forward guns, were some half dozen
blue jackets, with manacles on their limbs,
and in front of whom a gray-backed marine,
witli musket on his shoulder, marched listless
ly to and fro. The men in bonds had re
mained on shore several hours without per
mission, and while there had committed some
trespass and got into trouble with the natives.
There were seven of the delinquents in all.
Six of them were ironed in “the brig,” and
guarded by the marine ; while the seventh —
no human hand could harm him more.
Looking aft, you might have seen, on the
larboard side of the quarter-deck, a genteel
tigure, with one hand in his vest and the other
swinging carelessly at his side, as he walked
fore and aft, scarcely even looking at the
hands, and apparently uninterested in all that
was passing around him. This was the com
modore of tlie squadron in the Pacific. Our
frigate was the fiag-sliip.
But the commodore was not the only inter
esting object there. About midway, bet ween
the mainmast and the door of tkccabin, there
lay, upon a table, a heap, some feet in length,
enveloped by the glorious banting, the starry
banner of country.
This was the body of a weather-beaten tar,
who had seen much service, and who was
with Porter when engaged in his desperate
tight with the Cherub and Phoebe, in a little
bay near the harbor of Valparaiso. H e hail
been twice wrecked, twice in battle, and had
escaped many other dangers, to bo finally kill
ed in a drunken brawl at Callao. Ilis body
waij covered with gashes, inflicted by the
knives of the native cholans; but, strange to
say, his six companions had scarcely received
a wound.
The stiffened corpse was now stretched on
the gun-deck, and the commodore was passing
it in iiis walks, without seeming to be con
scious of its presence, until a small midship
man ran down the after-ladder and said some
thing to him in a low voice. The commodore
then turned, and having given a hasty glance
at the body, went upon deck.
It was then perceived that one of the ship’s
cutters had arrived. A lady, richly dressed,
was handed over the side, during which cere
mony the officiousness of the officers was such
that the fair visitor narrowly escaped tum
bling over one midshipman andrunningdown
another. The commodore was, however, on
deck in time to give her a welcome. He then
carefully led her down the ladder. They ap
proached the body, and at the same time the
commodore gave orders to uncover the corpse.
As soon as the features of the dead were
revealed, the lady gave a slight start. Then
she stood gazing upon the stony face for sev
eral minutes, with the keenest anguish im
printed on her pallid features. With a trem
bling hand, she placed a white rose on the
bosom of the deceased. She then stooped
down and touched her lips to his forehead,
after which she immediately turned to the
commodore. He led her, silently, to the spar
deck, and she passed over the side into the
boat, which had been manned and was wait
ing for her. The seamen who pulled her to
tho shore reported that she never spoke after
leaving the frigate. Her features remained as
pale ns snow. On arriving at the beach, a
carriage was in waiting for her ; she entered
it, and was driven in the direction of Lima.
Nothing could exceed the astonishment of
the ship’s company at witnessing these move
ments, and the officers were quite as much
mystified as the crew. The commodore was
evidently the only person in the squadron
who knew anything about the matter. The
name of the deceased was Brady, a clever
fellow, indeed, and a good sailor, hut nothing
more. That a lady, who evidently moved in
the higher walks of society, should have
evinced so much grief at the death of the
hardy tar, especially when nobody had ever
heard him speak of any such lady, was whol
ly unaccountable to us all.
This affair formed a subject of conversat ion
throughout flic whole squadron, for many
months. The officers made inquires in the city
of Lima, but could only learn that an Ameri
can lady arrived there about the time that we
sailed into the harbor, and that she abruptly
lett for the United States, immediately after
visiting our frigate.
Several years afterward, I formed an ac
quaintance with a young Philadelphian, who
threw some light on the subject. The mys
terious lady was a near relative of his. It ap
peared that our shipmate, Brady, lived origi
nally in Philadelphia, and was there kuowu
as a young merchant of much promise, es
teemed for liis probity, prudence and sagaci
ty. lie formed an acquaintance with a lady
of singular beauty and remarkable accom
plishments. She was also a person of fixed
principles, incapable of swerving from any
course which she believed to be right. The
firmness ot resolve arose from no want of ten
derness. She could make any sacrifice ne
cessary to the happiness of others, except the
sacrifice of right. There she was impregna
ble.
The two lovers were deeply devoted in their
attachment, l’lieir love was planted on es
teem. They entertained for each other tho
highest respect, as well the most passionate
admiration. The wedding-day was fixed, and
their mutual friends regarded the match as a
most proper otic. They seemed to have been
designed by Heaven to mingle their destinies
together.
Brady had a female cousin who luvd, from
the first looked upon this union with jaundic
ed eyes. Although deficient in all those
qualities which he deemed indispensable in a
wife, she had taken it for granted that Brady
could not see her without becoming smitten
by her superior beauty and fashionable man
ners.
As the day approached for the nuptials, the
cousin grew moody and thoughtful; blither
most intimate companions never suspected the
turn which her envy had taken. Brady was
under the necessity of leaving town on busi
ness, and to be absent several weeks. On his
return the marriage was to take place.
During his absence, strange reports had
been circulated about Brady’s intended, and
on his arrival in the city, he found an anony
mous letter on liis desk, which spoke in the
most pointed manner of the young lady’s mis
conduct. The name of the man was not given,
but it was stated that her intercourse with
him had been mere than imprudent.
In the evening, Brady called upon her whom
lie so truly loved, and presented her with the
foul epistle, expressing, at the same time, his
contempt for the villain who wrote it. Miss
B read the letter, and laid it aside with a
calm smile, but without making any remark.
Brady would have been better pleased if she
had made a few indignant observations upon
the malice of the writer. Instead of doing so,
she immediately began to converse upon some
other theme, and her lover soon forgot tho
unpleasant subject.
On the next day, however, he perceived that
when his friends met him, they fixed their
eyes upon his countenance in a peculiar man
ner. To one of them he mentioned the fact,
and then Brady was made acquainted with
t he slanderous reports which were flying about,
and which had already proved highly preju
dicial to the reputation of Miss B .
Brady questioned his friend closely, and
made many other attempts to trace these re
ports to the fountain head. In that lie failed.
The next time that he saw Miss B , she
soon discovered an ominous reserve in his man
ner. She demanded the reason of this change,
and he then stated that he had heard certain
charges made against her, which were of the
same tenor as the anonymous letter. “Os
courso,” added he, “1 do not believe a word of
these malicious reports.”
Still Miss B made no attempt to to ex
culpate herself, and conversed freely on other
topics. It was soon manifest that her lover
was becoming uneasy, and, at lenghth, he ven
tured to inquire, in a tone of affected careless
ness, whether she had been to New York with
her father, or any other gentleman, during his
absence from the city.
“Leave me!” cried Miss B , promptly.
“Leave me, Mr. Brady. The man who can,
for a single moment, be influenced by slander
ous reports, before marriage, will never be sat
isfied with her whom lie has doubted, after the
union is consummated.”
“But Eliza, my dear, you do not suppose—”
“1 have no more to say,” interrupted Miss
B—, rising, with the paleness of death on
her features, and retiring at once to her cham
ber.
Brady sat ten minutes ns if turned to stone.
His features then began to relax, nnd with a
smile, ho said: “l’shaw! lovers’ quarrels!
what a fool I am to take it so much to heart!
These things always happen between engaged
parties. But I must be more careful in future.
I will now go home, and write her a letter of
explanation. When she knows the true state
of the case—yet she is no common woman—
and, after all, conscious guilt—yes, conscious
guilt would act thus, when called upon for an
explanation. Is it not an ingenious way to
avoid the probe ? To assume the air of offen
ded virtue—often done by the most abandoned,
—she would have mo marry her without an
explanation, and then—O then—how she could
retort—could say, “I never told you tliatl was
innocent, ’ —l must beware of that trap. But
no ; I believe her innocent,; and did it become
me to doubt her—her—what? my Eliza!
doubt her? O, it was most vile; I’ll send her
a letter; I’ll use such t u rns as would melt a
heart of stone—confess my error—contrition—
cause the pearly tears to start from her deep
blue eyes, and she will love me more than
ever!”
Sanguine was his conviction that a woman
who truly loved him would be unable to resist
his application for pardon.
Deceitful is the heart of man. In the very
moment that Brady tv as penning this repent
ant epistle, lie was secretly reserving to him
self the right of instituting such inquiries as
should assure him of Miss l’> ’s innocence,
before he ventured to trust his honor in her
keeping by making her his wife.
The letter was sent, and the messenger
brought it back unopened.
“ Was she not at home ? ”
“Yes, sir, the lady was at home; but she
knew the handwriting, and said she could re
ceive nothing from you.”
We, who have known what passed in the
mind of Brady, must justify the inexorable
resolve of Miss B ; but the world, who
knew him only as a depending lover, thought
she deserved to die an old maid, as a fitting
reward for her cruelty.
The warm sympathy of liis friends, who
universally condemned the conduct of Miss
B , supported Brady’s spirit for a time,
and the serious doubts which they instilled
into him, of the worthiness of the beloved ob
ject, prevented his making a second attempt
at shaking her resolution.
Os all the friends that came to the aid of
Brady iu the hour of his distress, the most at
tentive and affectionate was his fair cousin.
He was touched by the gentleness of her man
ner, the soothing sweetness of her tones, and
the tact which she displayed in the applica
tion of all those little arts which woman
knows how to play off so well, when heartily
engaged in beguiling the grief of another,
lie had never supposed that his cousin was
capable of so much disinterested kindness.—
lie grew fond of her society ; to I'cst, his la
cerated heart upon the soft down of her sym
pathizing bosom was a luxury that he could
not dispense with, and a comparison between
liis cousin Flora and the hard, unfeeling Eliza
B , gave overwhelming odds in favor of
the former beauty.
Nevertheless, there were vast discrepancies
between the two young ladies, which Brady
would have noted under other circumstances ;
but now he was all sorrow, and Flora was all
consolation. If his eyes were blinded, how
ever, liis heart was not wholly so, for lie felt
“like a guilty thing” when lie finally put the
“momentous question” to his cousin Flora.
She cask down her eyes, and acted the part
necessary on such occasions with the most be
coming modesty and indecision, but ended by
accepting the offer.
Preparations were made for the wedding,
and the noise of Brady’s nuptials with Flora
M was bruited about the fashionable of
the city. It was then that Brady received the
following note:
“M ill Mr. Brady favor the undersigned with
a brief interview as soon as he is at leisure ?
Eliza B .”
“Amazement!” cried Brady, letting the
paper fall to the ground in his agitation:
“this woman, who refused even to read a let
ter of mine, now sues for a personal interview!
We ore in luck. Ha! ha! she has heard of
my intended marriage, and her resolution
gives away. It never rains but it pours.—
Scarcely have l made sure of one sweet angel,
than another comes unbidden to fling herself
into my arms! Well—but—there are some
explanations to be made, lor Eliza’s reputa
tion has suffered: no matter, I am ull impa
tience to learn the meaning of this funny re
action iu a mind so sternly framed,” —and
the young mnn hurried off towards Uhesnut
Street, humming, as he went:
How liui>iy could I be
Were either dear charmer away! ”
When he entered the well-known house, and
his eye was greeted by the once familiar ob
jects in the hall, he felt that he had never l'or
a moment ceased to love the queenly creature
whose presence he was seeking. But there
was little time for reflection. Eliza met him
on his entrance, and led him to a private
opart in ent.
“ My dearest Eliza—”
“Pray cease, and sit down,” interrupted
she.
The composed and decided tone in which
she uttered these few words sent an ice-bolt to
his heart.
“I learn, Mr. Brady, that you contemplate
a union with your cousin Flora. Now, sir,
do you know who wrote this letter ? ”
“No—certainly not. It is anonymous, and
relates to certain reports—”
“ Yes, sir; you presented it to me, one even
ing, and I preserved it purposely, for the wri
ter is well-known to me.”
“To you! Astonishing! Name the wretch,
and 1 will—”
“You will marry tho one who dictated it
all—is not that what you would say ?”
“For Heaven’s sake explain ! ”
“ I will,” returned Eliza, calmly. “I knew
the handwriting at the first glance. It was
written by a certain widow, or, rather, one
who passes for a widow, for she was divorced
from her husband. This widow is an intimate
friend of your cousin Flora, and the language
of the letter is that of your affianced bride.”
“0 stupid! ” ejaculated the young man.
“I recollect; this accounts for all. Every
thing is now made plain. Monster ! I have
often been mystified by the conduct of my
cousin, and only yesterday I came suddenly
upon her while in converiation with that same
widow. Both started, and my cousin looked
much agitated. The ‘widow’ gave me a glance,
as she retired from the apartment, that lias
dwelt unpleasantly upon my memory ever
since. Now I trace those injurious reports to
the right source. How weak I have been!
Nothing is now left for me but to—” He
threw himself at the feet of Miss B .
“Rise, sir! ” cried the young lady. “Our
interview is over.”
“ 0, Eliza ! you cannot have forgotten—”
“I have forgotten nothing, sir. Nay, I love
you still, and shall suffer far more acutely,
until the day of my release from earthly sor
row, —far more acutely than thyself. But we
Can never be united, and unless, as in the
present case, an interview is absolutely nec
essary to preserve you from some terrible
misfortune, we must never meet more. I
shall, however, watch over your welfare.
The proof of my undying regard will be
shown by making myself serviceable to you
on every occasion, where such a thing is pos
sible. I pity and love you ! ” For a mo
ment she paused ; there was an almost imper
ceptible softening in her tone; “and be as
sured that if was not fully persuaded that our
union would he unfortunate to yourself, I
would I gladly renew our intercourse.”
“How can you imagine that the dearest
wish of my heart—”
“Mr. Brady, the man who has once doubted
the truth and virtue of a woman, has given
the most unanswerable proof that he can nev
er be happy with her. Farewell! ”
Miss B left the room, and Brady felt
that he had seen her for the last time. What
a change a few brief moments had wrought!
Stunned and not knowing whither his foot
steps tended, the unhapy lover wandered into
a part of the city -which was infested by black
legs of the fashionable stamp—young men of
family, and some of them possessed of ample
means. One of these, who had formerly been
acquainted with Brady, but whom the latter
had avoided of late years, slapped our hero
on the back and cried :
“Hallo, Brady! in the dumps to-day?—
What ho ! cheer up, man! ”
Brady looked up. A cheerful face met his
glance. Brilliant, laughing eyes and ruddy
checks greeted him witli a smile of kindly re
cognition.
“ Where do you hide yourself? Not seen
you in a month of Sundays. That’s not the
way to live ; don’t wonder you are blue. Live
while you can, and take sorrow on the let
alone principle. Come, now, you’re in love,
I dare say.”
We must not repeat all that was said on that
occasion; but Brady was open to sympathy,
and was soon engaged in discussing cham
pagne with Munson. 11c was soon afterward
introduced to certain celebrated beauties
by liis new friends. Reckless—perfectly
reckless of consequences, poor Brady learned
to drink and play. The shock which he had
received was too much for an ardent mind
like his, and he became unsettled, neglectful
of business, and fond of excitement.
While his money lasted, lie maintained a
decent appearance among his former friends,
and it was not till his bankruptcy was an
nounced that even Eliza B suspected the
extravagence into which he had been led.
Before she had recovered from the sad an
nouncement, she learned that he had left the
country.
Miss B was possessed of groat wealth,
and as soon as she discovered that her late
lover was a penniless wanderer in foreign
lands, she lost no time in preparing to follow
and aid him with her purse.
We will not follow them in their peregrina
tions. Accompanied by an aged Englishman,
who had been the servant of her father, Eliza
was near the unhappy lover during all the
varied scenes through which he subsequently
passed, and iu moments of adversity, sudden
relief came to him from unknown sources.
Strangers took him by the hand, and offered
him the means of establishing himself in re
spectable business. When in prison, and
hopeless of escape, he was supplied with the
most raro delicacies, and his situation render
ed us comfortable as possible. He often won
dered at these things, hut never suspected
that a guardian angel was near, that the eye
of measureless love was ever fixed upon him,
and that all his hardships was observed and
sonio of them even shared by the beautiful
Eliza B .
Even in the terrible engagement between
the Essex and two British-men-of-war, the
faithful girl, disguised in the dress of a Span
ishjmaiden, beheld the whole affair from the
top of an adjacent hill, imploring Heaven, at
the discharge of every broadside, that her
lover might escape unharmed. Little did
Brady suspect that, when he returned to the
United States in the Essex Jr., the beloved of
his heart was a passenger in the same vessel.
All that Eliza could do for her lover, did
not suffice to change his mode of life. When
lie received money, he spent it among his ship
mates. lie was utterly reckless and improvi
dent.
This was the man whose dead body lay upon
the gun-deck ot’ the frigate B , and Eliza
was the lady who come on board to take her
final leave of our gallon! but reckless ship
mate.
Eliza did not long survive her lover. On
her return to i’hiladelphia, alter the de
cease of poor Brady, she sunk into a letnar
gic condition—a state rather of stupefaction
than of melancholy, from which her phvsi
cians could only arouse her by pronouncing
the name of Brady. She would then open
her eyes, glance around the apartment, and
relapse quickly into her former state. Thus
she remained several weeks, when she quiet
ly expired.
TELEGRAPHIC.
Telegraphed to the Daily Sun
From New Orleans.
New Orleans, O c t. 18,
The sales of cotton to-day reached sixty
five hundred bales at an eighth to a quarter
lower. Middling 11A to ll|c.
‘Tallow 11c.; Pork $21.50; Freights un
changed.
From the N. Y. Sun.
Shoes and their Manufacture.
Everybody wears shoes, and the shops for
their fabrication, and stores for their sale
cither singly or combined, are to be found
upon almost every square in those parts of
town devoted to trade, yet few imagine how
extensive and ramified in this traffic, or how
large a part of the population is engaged, di
rectly or indirectly, in their manufacture.—
The shoemaker, in addition to the leather used
in making shoes, requires many tools for his
“kit” —as lasting tacks to secure liis work on
the last, knives to trim, awls to pierce, thread
and bristles to sow, lapstone and hammer to
consolidate the leather, and a variety of little
articles too numerous to mention.
All of these are tevmed findings, and are to
be met with at establishments devoted to the
sale ot these articles. We will probably as
tonish some of our readers when we inform
them that the various little articles which are
in demand in the occupation of shoemaking,
and are to be purchased at Finding establish
ments, number between four and five hundred,
and tax labor in remote parts of the world for
their production, which litle dreams of the
use to which it was ultimately to be applied.
Thus, the flax from which shoe thread is made
is grown by the peasants of Northern Russia!
and is shipped to England and this country
from Archangel. Ireland likewise produces
flax, but its use in the fabrication of linen
goods of different kinds is found to be more
profitable than its conversion into shoe thread
and Archangel in Russia is left in undisputed
possession of this field of labor. Our own flax
is not found to be well adapted to this use,
and fortunately, owing to the limit, in its use
induced by the discovery of the art of making
shoe pegs by machinery, the price has not large
ly increased.
Before 1816 all the pegs used in shoes were
made by hand. About this period several
claimants for the process of making them by
machinery appeared, and by their rivalry
aided in bringing the mode of making them
to such perfection, as to reduce their price to
four, three, two, and finally to one dollar per
bushel, at which price they are now sold in
large quantities to our own shoemakers, and
likewise shipped to a considerable extent to
foreign countries. We may readily imagine
the unbelief of the shoemaker, who, in the
early days of the discovery, was interrupted
in his work by the entrance of a genuine son
of New England, who offered to sell him a gal
lon or a bushel of shoe pegs—a quantity
which, according to his own labor in making
them, he thought impossible to accumulate.
This little invention has produced a revolu
tion in the shoe trade, whose extent can hard
ly be estimat ed. At present four-fifths of the
boots and shoes for men’s wear made in this
country are pegged.
Formerly all the articles usually found in
shoe finding establishments, were imported.
At present, with the exception of sewing awls,
lasting tacks, shoe pinchers, silk galloons,
worsted lasting, silk, and linen latchets, and
about 25 per cent, of the shoe thread used,
these are fabricated in various parts of the
United States, chiefly in the New England
States, New York and New Jersey. This
change has been gradual but regular, and is
now so well established that there is little
probability of our ever seeking for these arti
cles from abroad, but an exceedingly strong
one of our supplying other countries with
t hose of our own manufacture.
The shoe finder has of late years associated
with his former business that of supplying the
sho trade with leather, which has not only
greatly enlarged his business, but demanded
the outlay'of a large amount of capital. The
greater number of the houses engaged in this
trade in New York, are to be found in the
neighborhood of the intersection of Gold,
Spruce and Ferry streets, in close proximity
with the large dealers in leather and hides.—
A tvalk through the well stored warehouses
of those engaged in these three departments
of trade tributary to shoemaking, will show
what large stocks in the hands of the principal
dealers are necessary to furnish the materials
from which this general want of the commu
nity is supplied.
Os the materials thus described, boots and
shoes are fabricated either in large manufac
tories, as in some of the New England States,
and especially Massachusetts, or, as in New
York and most other places, in the dwellings
of the workmen. After the work is cut. out it
is given to the binder, who is a female, to pre
pare the upper, or is sent to a sewing machine)
now much in use among shoe dealers, for the
same purpose. It is then handed over to the
shoemaker, who carries it to his dwelling, and
returns it in the form of completed work.
Most of the work is done by the piece, and
varies in price according to the kind. The
shoe binder receives from four to fifty cents
per pair for binding, and the shoemaker from
25 cents to $1 50 for shoes, and from $1 S' l
to $3 for boots. But whatever the price p* l
piece muy be, the daily wages are about the
same, averaging for binders about 50 cents,
and for shoemakers $1 per day. It fe seldom
that the wages of the former much exceed this
amount, or of the latter above $8 per week.
In order to earn the average prices above indi
cated, it requires that the laborer shall work
faithfully ten hours per day, and few are eith
er able or willing to sit longer at their tasks.
The number of persons engaged in shoe-ma
king or the proportion they bear to the whole
population cannot bo accurately told, as the
census returns in this particular are very de
fective. in Massachusetts, where the return
were more accurate than in most of the btates,
and where the number of shoemakers is gre-j
ter than elsewhere, they amounted to 31.9 •
and embraced a larger number of person^
than any other department of industry, excel -
agriculture.
Yet, notwithstanding the large number >j>
engaged, the demand for shoes is so great til*
those engaged in the trade complain ot t ie
scarcity both of binders and shoemakers-”
Whether this demand for labor, and elevatim
in the price of materials, will ultimately mi ‘
the wages of the workmen, and the l ,rlCt ’
shoes, or whether machinery will will be m- 1 ”
to supply the plaee of hand labor, is n l 1 '”
lent which the future must solve.
