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JOHN H. CHRISTY kT.E LAHFKDT,)
EDITORS Asro PROPRIETORS. j
Elcootctr to Nous, |)oUttcs, Citcraturr, (General JnteUigence, &gricnlttite, &c.
(Terms i—TWO DOLLARS per annum,
( INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
• NEW SERIES—VOL. D.
NO. 20.
ATHENS, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1848.
VOLUME XVI. NUMBER 32.
floctrn
ffliscellaneons.
The 3Ia»lac. Clown.
Written for the Southern Whig.
THE STONE MOUNTAIN.
Lora! Aloof
As in Uw eonadoonMi of thine own
Thou sUmfst alone, isolated bj the
Grandeur of thins own glory.
- Lifting op thy fearless head to heaven.
While firm—unshaken and erect thy giant
Fast boar op thy mammoth boat.
Sustained by thine own strength, tho’ in solitude
And solemnity unbending still, thy
Bagal brow cloud-bared cap a thousand
Storms hare braved, and backward hurled the
^bonder’s bolt and dared the light'ning’s stroke.
Unshaken still I Thy towering height looks
Boldly down upon each hill and stream, and
Tho* not far removed from busy throngs,
Thou art alone made solitary by
Thine own greatness, as mind above the common
. Herd finds no companionship.''.
Shadow awqp the strong man's soul, and aa he
Turns to thee feels as if ushered in \
The presence of mysterious power.
The lightnings flash falls harmless on thy brow
And winds of fearful aright rave vainly
a Bound thy solid base. The screaming blast nor
• Burning sun brings terror unto tbee,
-• Too brave thou art, no fear hast thou of light
1 -Or darkness, wave or wind.
Thy sides the wild
Chief trod, ere foot-step* of the white man scaled
Thy heights, or left one vestige his retreating
Feet behind. What tales oflove and madness
Tbou woolcfit tell—bow teems each niche with stories
Bark and dread; but legends like to these are
Lost, and all we know of thee, is that thou
Art a mammoth, of the Eternal's might
And power I
- JfilMgetille, November.
. THE WIDOW.
■ A Widow is a dangerous thing,
With soft black, shining curls.
And looketh more bewitching
Than a boat of roming girls.
Her laugh is so delicious—
So knowing, dear, beside,
You'd never dream her thinking
Soon to become a bride.
Her dress, though made of sables,
Givis roundness to her form—
A touch of something thoughtful,
A Witching, winning charm:
And when she sits down by you.
With quiot and easy grace—
A tear may fell unbidden,
Or amnio light up her lace.
Her voice is soft—melodious—
Anditute-like in iU tone:
She saanMimes sighs, M His dreadful.
To pass through life alone."
And tnee shell tell you, you remind her
Of tbe'love’d one dead and gooe;
Your step, jour form, your features:
Thus tho widow will run on.
Her .lips distil the nectar *
That doth an slave tho heart:
From the Cfearbwton Courier.
LINES 6N THE TflCl’OA FALLS IN HAB
ERSHAM, GA.
The creek whirh formj thin fall is quite small and
flows gently over a predpfce Cite hundred and eighty
feet in height into apool below'. The pool m situated
in a kind of glen. The glenbci. *rg almost entirely sur
rounded by high preanttoos*m ountains forms a iw *
delightful and romantic rctrept Tho name Toccoa
jan Indian word, signifying '*11» Smiling," or “T
■ Bsantiftd streamlet that lowest to glide
sweetly adownthe s torpsido ^
, 'stub lime marble waB,
Casting kkeir spray out upon all atom «d.
Bedew ray with moisture the rocks hnd tho ground.
How brightly they sparkle mSoTsfcoM’en light,
?Like the gemiwhkh bespangle the'W w of the night
,!What beautiful tints does the rainb*r cb 'splay
. As the rays of the son now reflect tifroeg, '■ the spray.
: How dabghtfsl to Grander in this fairy del!, ,
Where Coolness and Beauty and Melody <h 'rail,'
'Tooooa, the beautiful, kmgmajst fina<Ml
Thy waters ef gladness, refreshing the sonl
-Ofthe lowr of nature, wbo happens to stray
«,Vato thy rural shrine his devotions to p^y.
. aSB emend and all above thee
Is Am hushed anti charmed irir, .
AB thing* woo the*, all tilings love
Maiden fair!
* Oeatie arphjTs perfume la^athuig,
Waft to thee their tribute sweet,
■ Andfcr thee the Spring is wreathing
Whereso’cr thy footsteps stray,
t Ocr the earth's enamored bosom.
Lira ahray. *“
Whcraso'er thy presence finger*
mecera’cr thy brightness beams ;
I'ancywrearaa with canning fingers.
Sweetest dreanw.
< vM, . And the'heart forgets thee sever,
■V ■ •■sSiSMSattSi. <'
* f Em* bright
jpnde.—I never saw pride in a nobte
* mature nor humility in an unworthy
* mind. Of all the trees, I observe that
"Ood'bath'Chosen the vine, a low nlant
that creeps upon the helpless’ wall; of
■'»ll beasts the soft and patient lamb; of
-\m birds the *mfld and g entle dove*—-
~*Wbea <5od appeared to Moses, it was
90 -lot in iflie lofty •cedar* i lor the sturdy
** , ■** die spreading pilane; but in a
°“* , *ide,slender, abject bush.;
lhuI1 '.'. -treses Icci/ons check
Notfer
ft^ , n
as if he would by u. Wotfc-
the conceited arrogancsefro^a ® _
1 ing procureth love like hqnail^y *
BY J. H. BROWN.
The following narrative, with scarely
an alteration is true. The particulars
were taken from the mouth of the un
fortunate creature, during one of the
lucid intervals, between his fits of mad
ness, while confined in the madhouse
ofP——England, and may be remem
bered as being noticed by the Journals
of the time; the notes tfere laid aside—
but not forgotten, and the atotbor had
but waited aft opportunity to place them
in this manner before the readers of this
sheet.
“ And here,” said the keeper, as he
came to No. 13, from whence cam& low
moaning, “here we have a strange
prisoner, from whom you may gather a
tale worthy of note and surpassing any
you have taken if we can but find him
quiet as be is at timesa strange story
is bis, and he is one of the most savage
and raving prisoners we have, at times.”
So saying, he unlocked the door, af
ter having looked through at the grate,
and we entered; crouched down upon
his iron and immoveable seat in the
corner,with his face buried in his hands,
hair long, black and matted, bis dress
fantastical and strange—being but the
attire, (torn in various places,) of a ring
mimic—was a man who moved not at
our entrance ; he was like all we had
seen chained by the wrist to the floor,
rendering it impossible for him to move
more than was required in sitting, or
lying upon the co arse bed beside him.
Nothing escaped-him except a low
moaning which he at times sent forth,
and shaking his head, buried still deep
er in his hands; the keeper said in this
manner be had passed whole days, and
then be was most peaceable and least
violent.
.Touching him with the end of the
slick he carried in his band, he said—
“ Look up«” And the miserable crea
ture turned up his haggard features to
our view.
Why do you cora^ here again ?”
said he, sadly—“ to make a show of me ?
You tell me, and those who come to look
at me, that I am mad! do you not fear
me t ay ! strong man—do you not fear
me weak creature that lam? yes, and
so you chain my arms and jiands and
feet so that I cannot lift them op, but
look ye, there is something you cannot
chain !—one thing you cannot manacle,
and if yon could, I would bear all the
chains that could be heaped upon me—
my Memory! chain that! keep tnat dread
form from before me—let it not haunt
me day and night—let me not hear tho
voice that rings forever in ray ear, and
f ou may chain and load me gown, and
will thank you for it.”
And he dropped bis head and .buried
his face once more in his hands.
“ He has not been so rational for many
aday,” for he is like a lion when, the fit
is on him and—”
*• Ha! ha! ha! lam with you once
again ! come, is all ready ? who goes
on first? why do you stare so wildly at
me ? come, I am merry, and shall make
them laugh out to-night!—ba! ha! ba!
and bis face was lit up with a wild de
moniacal expression. Soon he spoke
again—.m-i*,a\- *
“Where’s Mary, not come yet?—
Strange it’s time—long past the time,
and she knew well that she should be
here early. Why gaze at me ? she is
not—no, no, nothing has happened—tell
me, is she safe, is my dear child safe!
Ob God! 1 remember, Mary is dead—
dead. Ha! ha! ha!”
And with loud shrieks, he dashed his
hands to his forehead.
Soon he sat down again on his low
iron stool, dejectedly, and spoke not;
then looking up again, he gazed round,
and upon the keeper and myself who
stood by the door beyond bis reach.
" Come nearerto me,” said he beckon
ing, “come nearer; no, not you* I fear
you,” and he shuddered as the keeper
stepped towards him—“ I fear you for
your eye strikes terror to my heart, and
that* and the form of my child before
me ever, is all 1 dread! Come, and I
will tell you of my child—my little Ma
ry, my own pet child—I’ll tell you how
she died.”
Not daring to trust myself within bis
reach I stepped as near to him as possi
ble, so that he could not reach me; he
bent forward, placed bis head upon his
hand, and with a sudden termor, and
wildly glaring eye, be began. .
“ Once, I know not when, hut I could
count my days, I knew the night, could
tell the bright sun, and the.cle,ar moon
and the clear stars, but now all are the
same to tne> Bays I know none, and
the night lingers round me ever; well,
.long, long ago, ere, I came to this doll
g loomy place I was out among men ';
drank, eat, cried, laughed, like men, ay,
aud that too merrily, for I was jester
in the ring, made the crowd, the heart
less rabble, laugh and shout, and raised
a merry noise, no matter if my heart
was sick or gay, hut I was glad some
th* es to see the long tiers, the closely
packed boxes, and the stalls each one
with smiles, to bear the loud laugh,
and merry words, and knew that I bad
caused it all—to hear their loud hurrahs,
to see them wave their bats and hand
kerchiefs, when with a shrill whoop, 1
jumped into the ring. Thai would
belied the smile upon my face, the jest
to which iiiy heart gave utterance.
Well,So years wenton,until my wife
own beloved Mary, died, she whom
I loved so fondly and true, I laid to sleep
in the cold damp earth ; no one could
have thought that I,the jester, the clown,
the one that made them laugh, could
tceep. But oh! how many hours I have
S assed beside that lonely grave; my
lary! she had loved me as tew women
loved ; she had trod on in the same
rough road, standing beside me in my
troubles and sorrow, enduring what I
enjoyed, or suffering without a murmur;
and when I knew she was dead, itseem-
ed as iCmy rime on earth was over, and
the same grave dug for her should take
me in also. But she had left me one,
over whom I must watch with anxious
ness, and love if possible, more than
heretofore, my little daughter, the image
of her mother, my own little pet, Mary.
I struggled with the deep, the bitter
curse of poverty. Could I have gained
a livelihood by toil, incessant hardships
and endurance, efeewhere,gladly would
I have rushed to it, and blessed heaven
for its kindness. But no; poor, broken
down, a miserable, wretched man—i
profession, no business, save the one
followed. I was still forced to drag *
the arena, where my wants allowed
but a very.scanty respite upon my wife’s
death.
But what cared the crowd ? the
clown should not be sad, no, no, impos
sible for the ring jester to weep, it was
a thing unheard of, and would have
raised a louder laugh than any of my
liveliest sallies. And so with heart
overburthened, sick and faint, I was
forced to laugh and make merry.
Oh 1 ! what a pleasure and joy to me
was little Mary! how her sweet and
artless smiles lit up the gloom Within
my breast—how her merry laugh made
me feel young and happy for a time,
and with what fondness, strange, ay
mad devotion did I hang upon every
word, tone or look of hers! She grew,
and was beautiful indeed.
“How many hours, when the toil of
my profession was over for the night,
did 1 sit beside her little cot, and gaze
upon her as she lay sleeping before rn
often, veiy often, with a smile playing
upon her lovely face, telling that her
dreams were sweet and pleasant, and
making me even smile m yself as I
looked upon her and wished that I was
young, and innocent, as pute as was she.
“ And then what horrid, horrid
thoughts, came crowding in upon my
fevered brain. Ah! how I’d struggle
and fight with them, and I would weep
and moan aloud.
“ For oh! I thought—yes the thoughts
would come, what if death should rob
me of her—her, my Mary—all, all I
loved in the wide earth—she in whom
were centered all my affections, the
only one inducing me still to drag on
my weary life; what if the cold strong
My. salary became inadequate to
my wants. I pinched myself to allow
my daughter education, and to enable
her to dress prettily, and that she might
not sufier for a thing. So 1 applied for
more ; and told them I could not live
with what 1 had. But alas! they re
plied that my request could not be com
plied with, they said they would retain
me paying we what I was then receiv
ing, or that I might go, for though I was
a favorite, I was growing weak and old,
and many a younger one was .waiting
for the situation I then held.
“ I demurred, but it was of no a^ail—
I pleaded poverty but there was no
help, and was turning to leave, when
once again the manager spoke to me—
“ If you are poor, and wanting as you
say, I can name a way in which you
can gain money.”
“ Name it,” eagerly cried I.
“Your daughter, she is young and
handsome, she—”
. “ Wbat mean you by these words,”
shouted I, as 1 stood panting before him.
“ Why not train her for the arena?”
“Horrible idea! Train ray little
Mary for the arena ? No, no, I could
not think of such a thing. I could not
find in my heart to bring, that dear one,
pure as she was, untouched, unsullied
yet by sin, into the midst of the ma
ny low vile creatures hanging around
such a place. No, no, the thought was
agony.
“ So I toiled on, harder and harder
than ever; little did those who laughed
loudly, so lengthy, and so heartily
But oh! what a moment fot;. me ! _ _
With the lightness of air she vauhed-to j low townsman, but will recognize him
the saddle: a crack from the master’s! in this sketch of a ride with G. \V. fcen-
whip, and round went the noble steed j dal!. Jack was well known in this land
like lightning, round the arena so swift-! bf his nativity, and his humorous and
ly that it seemed as if it were not! dare-devil qualities would make a Gil-
half so long; and then bow they applaud
ed! My eyes followed her as she went,
my heart knocked against my bosom
at each beat and when she stopped for
rest I could not speak. It was well for
me that they saw it not; they were
waving handkerchiefs and sending flow
ers to her from every portion of the au
dience. • < . :V •
It was a triumph. I was wild
pin ride of this kind rather a dangerous
experiment to one who had so short an
n<*tjuainlance with him, especially if
Jack (as he appears to have been,) was
in the humor for a frolic.—Mobile Ad-
[From the New Orleans Crescent]
Kendall's Ride with lick Ererltt
Eds. of Crescent: Dili you ever hear of
George W. Kendall’s ride with Jack
the middle of the street, and exclaiming,
I told you he was u damned good
horse !”
Kendall was afterwards heard to de
clare that the happiest- moment of his
life was that When he found himself off*
the old grey and perfectly sound- Ho
was never known to ride with Jack Ev-
eritt again. C. C.
Corpus Christi, Oct 2,1848
frantic wilh joy, feananu weakness1- j Ever f u? It occurred in Catnargn short-
S weedy, and with grace, she waved |, afler , he bat ., e of Monterey. Jack
her uny arms and hands, as the fnan.ing 1 as wellknown along our Southern
steed walked slowly around to let her, fronlier as GoK Jack Ha % hira5elf . He
breathe: and gtve her rest. particular friend of Col. Kinney's.
• 08 .gain perform,ng morertl.fBcult ^ oantIer of Corp„ S Chris,i, and had
feats than before, but with the same! • .
ease and grace. One could not have i ^"mpamed the latter ,n some, o! the
told, have looked on, that she had not i < ' es P. erat0 f ° ra y* U P°" *e Ind.ans and
, . . c . ,' Mexicans made by him during the ear-
done the same thing lor months and),. • r ,. ,
, , c _ b a . , her stages othis settlement at that place,
months before, so easy, no effort socool- ft had hearJ a deal J Jack
ly no embarrassment; it was through-; Eyf riUi W[] from Mc g u | lod ,. 3 Ranger3
f 6 a * a,,, L , , . anil Col. Kinney, and had frequently
“But no—she must come before i • i . u- j
. , T i j l . • t i i expressed a wish to see him ar J
them, and 1 led her out again. I need| ‘ • , , • r,
not tell you how they shouted, what they j ^'he Col™eUaw JaekTome galloping
wnh Te r;;, 1 1,c— S o, h eb T ht
. .u* i t . i i .i . dall s quarters and introduced him.-*-
no th.nk I told the troth. George was delighted wilh the apnear-
••And now, one more appearance and : ance J ;, f Jack a „3 9aid tha , he JJ fre .
the la^ that ntght. On she came, borne , heard of him, and was glad to
by the best per,ormer to the arena, the ^ f he a intanc ; olv , ne so r | nown .
favorite ofthe place ; w„h what grace j , f his 0 r gal i an , ry a[H ] , ki ||.
and easfi no hmd her nn on hitrh. hoiv i - . . . . ° . .„r . ..
think the heart of him wbo caused and ease he held her up on high, how j T ,
.i j. ii.. i .u l^L..! ....... — .n JacK.
them so to do, was sadly beating while
he sung the merry song, or danced and
capered, telling his curious jokes, and
laughing out so loud himself, ah no.—
At length nature could support it no
longer. I grew sick, and was scarcely
able to go thro* with mjr performance;
and the words of the manager recuired
to me again, and there was no alterna
tive, and I was torccd to briug her to
the bouse.
“ And that hour when first she slip
ped therein I curse, ay! curse it from
my heart!
And here the poor maniac, after talk
ing so rational, and for such a length
of time, covered his face with his hands,
and swayed bis body to and fro,. utter
ed loud curses and cries. Upon this I
feared the remainder of his story was
lost, and waited long for his paroxysm
to cease; by degress his voice subsided
and he commenced again—
“ She murmured not, she said that
she was glad she could be earning
something to assist me in my poverty,
and she would try-her best to learn and
please; poor child, poor Mary!
“ Weeks—weeks; and many too we
practiced. Every day for hours and
she would not say she — 1 —
lartly she looked, way up there, all
tinsel and spangles, glittering-so finely
_ "J 'and he like Hercules
beside of her, urging the steed onward
to its utmost powers.
“ The most intrepid riders are car
ried swiftest to enable them to sustain
their • bhlance, and he was famous for
the swiftness of his riding, it seemed
as if his steed flew. No word came
from my lips, though I was in the arena
all the time. I was not thinking where
I was or what I was doing; all that I
thought of was my child. .
“ High up. in the air he- threw her *>
easily as iPtwas play, and she clappin
her little hands, nor fear hall she. Hm
they applauded! her triumph was
complete.
Each moment brought the perfor
mance nearer to its close, and how I
wished it thro*. But no, his steed fear
ing the whip, trained to exerting nil his
powers, when this rider was upon his
back, kept on his lightning course, and,
oh God ! intone unlucky feat he missed
her. I saw her fall, the horse reared,
and down came his heavy hoofs upon
my Mary.
“ I cannot tell yon wbat followed—I
tired, no! saw them rise round on every side-
and she learned, too,! there were cries, but I know that pier-1 behind.
being about “half snapped,”
grasped the proffered hand and ex
claimed :
George Kendall, eh? George Ken
dall ofthe Picayune, eh? Well, I’ve
heard of you and your paper often
gh, and I’m d——d glad to see you
—you look like a trump! What do you
say, old fellow, let’s have a turn round?
I know all about these parts, and
show you something more than you think
of. Will you come?”
This was just what Kendall wished,
and he at once acceded to Jack’s request;
and the latter brought up his .horse, ah
old grey, blind of one eye, but power
fully built.
“ There, do you see that horse ?” sftid
Jack. He’s a damned good ho^se*—
Kin hey gave him to me, and he knows
what a horse he is. He’s not much to
look at, but once get him agoing drill
he’ll go throngh hell itselT, if you put
him at it. Get on, Kendall, and Fll
mount behind, and show you sights—I
will, sure.”
Kendall demurred to this arrange
ment, arid said he would walk, if Jack
would ride; but this Jack would not
hear of, and after some slight argument,
Kendall finally gave up the point, and
mounted the old grey, while Jack got on
Gen. Patterson was at that time Gov-
sure arm of death should smite her
down in all her purity and loveliness ?
True she would die sometime as did
her mother, as I must, must all of us,
but should that moment be while I re
mained on earth ? Oh, how I prayed
to God to arrest death’s dart till I was
in th6 skies.
Yes will you believe it, the clown—
mark me, the clown sprayed. The one
who in fanciful attire, leaped and rode,
joking and meriy in the ring—Ac, who
wept by the side of his dear wife, pray
ed beside the little cot of his sweet child
—he prayed for her.
“ And then'again another and more
dreadful vision came to me! to which
the thought of death was nothing; should
she live, growing more lovely and beau*-
tiful every hour—should she still con
tinue the object bf ray entire thought
and fall to sin !—oh', God! the thought
was sickening, then bow I bowed
down and prayed—then how I trembled
for the fate of my child.
London’s no place for a young, moth
erless and beautiful girl; for temptation
and every allurement to sin and vice
existed upon each turn; and should she
fall I Would that ere that moment I
could see her a corpse before me ?
“ Well, as I’d set and gaze anil muse
on all this as my thick coming fancies
passed before me, sometimes she would
complaint, not
rapidly. j cing shrieks drowned them, I saw hlood WI ,* WI 1WU wMatiuaiuutBw
■■Howl wotched her then! by her: upon my dear child’s face. I had er^V^Camargo.Tnd'i^" issued
all day; all night and not a moment sprang to her ere the horse has hardly order lhalno ® on shou , d ride llir0L ,„ h
could my eyes be from her. After hours ! moved, ahd seized her from beneath lh , aza f asler , ha n a walk, and the
on.l oft., n.nw o rwl nl ■ tml ch*> him. nnH nil rnnnppipil wilh tho nlano . . ....
and hours of training and of* toil,
was prepared lor the debut.
The day preceding the night was sad
jough for me. \Ve went together to
her mother’s grave and sat an hour or
two; I told her that she was soon to
come before the world, that she would
be surrounded by sin misery, and temp
tation, but ever to treasure the memory
rif that mother dead, who when living
free from taint and peerless as the
driven snow. She was so young, that
she could not understand me fully, but
said, sweet child, that she should go to
Heaven to meet her there, and if she
would she must be good, to do so.
“ The night arrived—portentous
night; anil withd beating heart I puton
my customary habiliments. Mary was
to appear in two performances, the first
lime alone, the second; in conjunction
with the best performer in the arena—
and sweetly aid she look when all at
tired for her first appearance* Never
had she looked *so beautiful with her
little spangled frock and tights, so like
a svlph, so pure, so innocent. Again
id again I kissed < her and hade her
him, and all connected wilh the place , posleJ around said , a
ru>hed to my side. ordered to stop all persons who should
But she, the beautiful,* she my idol, attempt to exceed trie prescribed gait,
life and hope, a moment before so full | Kendall was aware of this ordor, and
ofjoy.Ihad clasped unto my heart a i when he took, the reins of the old grey
corpse ! horse had no apprehensions of his run-
“ All, she was dead! dead like her hing away from him. But Jack who
mother Mary, dead like everything was behind him, Wore a pair of large
to me that should be full of life ! anil I Mexican spurs, and wishing to show
lived! the running capabilities of bis horse to
I know no more,” said the poor! Kendall, he clapped the spurs into his
Thrilling incident at the MCnngcrie.
On Thursday of last week, during the
heavy wind and raih* while the exten
sive collection of wild beasts in the me
nagerie of Messrs. Raymond & Waring
were in the village of Norwalk, a fea- *
ture was introduced in the exhibition
not previously announced in the bills.
About four in the afternoon a violent
gust of wind blew down the canvass
which forms the large pavilion, com
pletely enveloping the spectators and
ages of animals in one mass of confu-
ion. The accident happened at tho
imewhen Miss Adelina, the Lion Queen
s she is styled, was performing in the ■
den of wild beasts, and as the fright of
imals rendered them seemingly
con_ uncontrolable,great fears were enterlain-
soon ec j f or the safety of that imerestingyoung
lady. At this moment a scene of inde
scribable terror and confusion present
ed itself. The roaring of the terrified
beasts, the screams of women and chil
dren, and the “ peltings of the pitiless
storm” without, rendered the scene tru
ly appalling. The panic however wa9
but momentary, as the prompt and en
ergetic measures taken by the mana
gers soon cleared the wreck, no person
having received the slightest injury.
But the most intensely interesting in
cident remains to be told. The uproar
among the lions, tigers and leopards in
theiperforming cage, gave rise to a re
port that they were devouring Miss Ad
elina* In the next instant the canvass
was stripped from the cage, when a tab-
lenu presented itself, such as would
defy either poet, painter or sculptor to
portray wilh accuracy. In the centre
of the den a young and bcautiiuL lion,
(the same recently presented to Gen.
Cass by the Emperor of Morocco,) in
rampant position, formed the strong fea
ture of the picture; beneath one of his
hind feel lay stretched the dead body
of a leopard, and struggling within the
invincible grasp of his fore-paws were
the tigers and surviving leopard. In
I he opposite end of the cage, transfixed
as a statute of marblo, with dauntless
eye and majestic attitude, the same as
when she commands the wild beasts to
crouch at her feet, stood the Lion Queen,
Miss Adelina. The young lady states
that the two leopards and the tiger
made a simultaneous spring for her at
the moment the canvass was blown
down, and were repulsed by the noble
gallantry of the lion, who bounded be
tween them, and protected her in the
manner described. Tho presence of
Mr. Pierce soon reduced the savage
group to subjection, and the Lion Queen
was happily relieved from a farther par
ticipation in this extra performance.
sides, and off went the old grey at a
tremendous pace, straight for the plaza.
Kendall tugged and pulled at the rein,
but in vain ; the old fellow had got the
hit in his mouth and the spurs in his
sides, and there was no such thing &s
stopping him.
“ Jack, for God’s sake help me to stop
him!” shouted Kendall, turning his
head round, and casting an appealinj
shut out the’hright light, and’ will not look at Jack, who was digging his spur
let me listerffb the songs bfbirdsjor ioto the horse’s sides. “Help met
smeil the fragrance of the flowers ; they pull him up, won’t you ?”
chain me down, ay f 'load me with ! Jack was a little deaf, as well a
double manacles as these—when they! drunk, and thinking that Kendall wa
have barred the doors, ay r they can-! praising the horse, only answered, “ He’
not close them to my Mary, I see j a damned good horse !”
her now, with the red blood streiitnlngj “ Yes, but he’s going right for the
lace—don’t Idl me see it!; plaza,” said Kendall, in a feverish state
away—away !** And with a tear of 1 of excitement. “Help me to stop him,
’ * ' * * • ' * • ’ both of
maniac, as he wiped his dry eyes
there had been enough . to dash away.
“ I could have wept once, but now my
eyes are.dry, my eyes are dry, and'I’ve
no tears so shed. Men tell me that she
lay3 beside her mother’s grave, and that
for many, hours ihev could not separ
ate us, bull remeriiher nothing ofit,
and am sure it was not so. But they
brought me here to this dark place, and
fear riot.
“ The boose, long before the adver-1 down her pale U
tised time for the raising of the curtain I away—away!” . .
. was densely filled—filled with people, re al pity, after obtaining the location of [or the sentry may shoot
wake; at first she was surprised to find j waiting the announcement of the first] the graves, I turned from hirq and the ; us.”
there in tears, ami sought to know appearance in public ot (he daughter of ; massive doors were again closed and j ' M Kinney gi
• - — 1 | iaC | j on g been underlined, and I barred upon the Maniac Clown.
had been heralded forth in glowing ] -
words for several days. Yes, men came
the cause; and then she would «ay,
* Dear father, do go to rest, for you afe
pale; yes, do go, father, for your own
little Mary asks you; then I’d kiss and
him to me,*’ muttered
jJack, still under the impression that
j George was admiring the horse’s pace.
By ibis time they had reached the
words for several days. les, mencame | rf j a. . t._ -• t> • t. • By this time they hail reached trie
- - to look upon one whom poverty had \ n \ , I* ! P^ a2a » ant * t ^ e sentry’s bright musket,
bid her good Bight jrohtatber pleasant I compelled to appear, whom want had | ^ ». h “ £boani ! 8 leami ”S in «•» moon's rays, met Ken-
dreams, and leave her till I thought sheijroye jYnnj bbr peaceful home, and lrt ,u e American frieate St Lawrence in s e ^ e * ,, j when on moving down to the quay to
was asleep again, and then go softly I lau h at lbe j es ts of her sad hearted j jLite ofmlhhwwn .moils’ of! " J 3 "*- 1 sa ?' Jack - catch h " W ' satisfy himself on the subject bv
creeping back till morning. | r ath E e , J at St«?Cand ! "P"’ wiU '“I*. - 1 ca .“ H J , ° , .‘!! <" I* b» MO
The unfortunate Cypher.
The following capital story is from
Le Follet, a French publication 1
A merchant at Marseilles, having a
business correspondent on the African
coast, bethought him, that as some mem
bers of his family had shown a partiali
ty for monkeys, he might gratify them
by sending for one or two specimens of
these animals from Africa. According
ly, be wrote to his correspondent to
procure two or three of the finest arid
most admired species, and transmit
them to Marseilles. Chance so ordered
it that in putting down the on (in Eng
lish or) between the figures 2 and 3, he
made the o very prominent, while the it
remained scarcely visible. Some months
afterwards a ship porter came in all
haste to the old merchant, and announc
ed to him that hts menagerie had ar
rived. “ Menagerie!’’ cried the mer
chant* “Yes, a menagerie, a whole
cargo of monkeys had arrived to his
consignment.” The merchant could
scarcely credit the announcement, un
til the letter of his correspondenl was
put into his bands. In that epistle the
negotiant, a man of the most uncompro- •
mising exactitude, excused himself very*
earnestly for not having been able, with
all his exertions, to procure more than
100 monkeys, in place of the 203 order
ed, but promised, as soon as possible; to
fulfil the entire demand. Thj feelings
of the honest merchant may be guessed
when <
Each day, each moment, found me I
growing weaker and weaker. And as'
she grew more and more fair and beau
tiful the more and more I failed in
strength and everything—everything
bnt love for hen*—no abatement could
there be in that while the life blood cours
ed through my veins.
Sometimes I took her to her moth
er’s grave where she was always sure
to bring some sitqple flower,and I would
tell her of the one who laid beneath, so
good, so gentle and so kind,' telling her
she most try and. be like her; and
then she’d ask ine many artless ques-
1G0‘rrion-
she loved me as well as did she, and
when she spelt the only word upon
the bead-stone, simply .* Mary / she said
cbecc: 5W sometimes wbeu my heart • Why that is my name too \
And they would not look in vam,] e _ ?- e a . ar |* oo J^officers/ This’ofler ! WtD ’ an( * lh ®„ scnlr ^, wil * firC * b y ® ,,< * ! \ keys, all duly caged and littered, and
thf> mnitamr. <11 flick With . ® l . . *.'• Hein me. will VOU ? * I nnnn!nr« nr Vi^rV. ttrilli iLo UiuloLla
foza, relteml the manager .truck with’ i
course made me accept. It is not often ^
managers applaud their hirelings.-- 0 1 Congressional Reports.—We feafnibat
“ Tier, above tier they rose-fand When*; Mr* Dyer, the Phonograph er. ig organ*. . _ _
as the .curtain ro.*e on high, and With a ; ising-a corps to 1 make verbatim reports J the plaza, and was out of sight before
shriek and merry “ Here I am,” I jump* of the debates iir Congress. TOf^are-j the sentry bad time tri cock -his musket.
some novel features in iris platr worthy‘Kendall now determined to stop the
of notice. There will be in the corps I horse at all hazards, and seeing a large
several printers, well skilled in Phonog- pile of adobes (sunburnt brick) lying in
rapby, Who will set up the tvpe* direct- [ the midle of the, street, he put tho old
U from the reporter's notes. Of the j grey’s head in t h at direction; and ran
feasibility of doing tins, we fraVehWon^ihim directly into the centre ofthe heap,
testible evidence in theTact that a young! AWay flew Kendall and Jackin one
compositor in our office has lately set f direction, and away' went the old grey
up several articles for birr paper from yin another. Fortunately, no bones were
phonographic manuscript of a friend,] broken,-and-rising and shaking himself,
i without roistaIp^-Pennsylrairuine ?George turned to look for his compan-
ecl into the ring,^bite deafening plaudits
made all echo agairi.
“ I know not how I acted, what 1 said/
from time totimel heard them shoot; but
my thoughts were upon my child, and
when the moment came to appear, am!
tions, if she was in heaven then ; and if iled her hy her little hand to make her
bow, feelings of pride mingled with my
sadness; for it was Mary my child, for
whom they shouted, unto whom they
rose f oo whom every eye was turned.
Help me, will you ?” ^ j grinning at him wilh the most laudable
“ Ob,” says Jack, •' be hadn’t got to • pertinacity. It was the moment when a
the top of his speed yet. He’s a damn-1 man might reasonbly doubt whether it
ed good horse, I tell you! ’ j would be best to laugh or cry. So much
Pig went the spurs into the horse s for lhe valtte of cyphers” l
sides, and away flew the old grey across — .. ..
Questions for. the Longest Dayiri. If
20 grains make a scruple. bo,w many
will make adonbt. -'./cm:
1. If 7 days make one week, how
many will make one strong. 9 :
3. If 6$yards, make a pole. how ma
ny will make! a T«r£ ? • ,
4. If 3 miles make a league* how
many will make b confederacy 9
fi.'lf one pine tree oan; make-pitch,
how: many will make a pitcher ?. ; x -
6. If one twinge of pain ; will make 2m
ache, how many will make an actc9