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A TIGHT PLACE;
Or, The Man that knew ’em All.
BY FALCoNBRIDC.K.
If you have ever “been around” some, and
taken notice of things, you have doubtless seen
the man who knows pretty much everything and
everybody!
I’ve seen them, frequently. As the old preach
er observed to a venerable lady, in reference to
forerunners , “I see ’em now.” Welt, talking of
that rare and curious specimen of the human
family, the man that knows everybody, I've rath
or an amusing reminiscence of “one of ’em.”
Stopping overnight, at the Virginia House, in
that jumping off place of Western Virginia,
Wheeling, some years ago, I had the pleasure or
pastime of meeting no few of the big guns of the
nation, on their way from Washington City home.
It was in August, I think, when, as is most gen
•rally the case, the Ohio river gets monstrous
low and feeble ; when all of the large, steamers
are past getting up so far, and travelling down
the river becomes quite amusing to amateurs, and
particularly tedious and monotonous to business
people, bound home. Three hundred travellers
more or less, were laying back at the “Virginia”
and “United States,” in the aforesaid hardscrab
ble of a city, or town, waiting for the river to get
up, or some means for them to get down.
The session of Congress had closed at Wash
ington, some time before, and as almost all of the
M. C.’s, U. S. S.’s, wire pullers, hangers on,
blacklegs, hore jockeys, etc., etc., came over
“the National Road” to Wheeling, to take the riv.
• r for Southern and Western destinations, of
course the assemblage at that place, at that time
was promiscuous, and quite interesting; at least,
Western and Southern men always make them
selves happy and interesting, home or abroad,
and peculiarly so when travelling. It was a
glorious thing for the proprietors ofthe hotels, to
have such a host of guests, as a house full of
company always is a “host,” the guests having
nothing else to do but lay back, eat, drink, and
be merry, and foot the hills when read, or when
opportunity offers, tr go.
I hey drank and smoked, and drank again, and
told jests, and played games and tricks, and thus
passed the time along. Among the multitude
was one of those ever talkative and chanting
men of the world, who knew all places and aft
men—as he would have it. Just after removing
the cloth, at dinner, a knot ofthe old jokes, bach”
analians and wits, settled away in a cluster, at
the far end of a long table, and were having a
very pleasant time. The man of all talk was
there; he was the very juiclcirs of all that was
being said or done. He was from below, some
where, on his way, as he informed the crowd, to
Washington City, upon affairs of no slight im
portance to himself and the. country in general.
“Oho!” says one of the paity, a sly, winking,
fat and rosy gentleman, whom we shall desig
nate hereafter, “you’re bound to the capital, ehF”
“Yes, sir,” responded the man of all talk.
“Os course you’ve been there before !” says
the interrogator, nudging a friend, and winking
at the rest.
“ What ? Me been in Washington before ? Ha,
ha ! me been there before ! Bless you, me been in
Washington city !”
“Oho ! ah, ha !” says the interrogator ; “you’re
one ol the caucus folks, eh ? One of them wire
pullers we read about, eh ?”
“-Mir/ Caucus? Ha, ha! Mum’s the word,
gents, (looking kiilingly cunning). Come, gen
tlemen, let’s fill up. Ha, ha! me pulling the---
ha, ha! Well, here’s to the old Constitution :
let’s hang by her, while there’s a—a—a button
•n Jabe’s coat.”
And they all responded, of course, to this elo
quent sentiment.
“Here’s to Jabe’s buttons, coat, hat, and
breeches.”
“Excuse me,” continued the first operator, af
l#r the toast was wet down, “you’ll please ex
cuse me, in behalf of some of my friends here ;
as you’ve been down in that dratted place, and
must know a good deal of the goings-on there,
I’d like to inquire about a few things we West
ern folks don’t more than get an inkling of,
through the papers.”
“Certainly; go on, sir,” says the victim, assum
ing all the dignity and depth of a man that’s ap
pealed to to settle a ponderous matter.
“I’d like to inquire if those Kitchen Cabinet
disclosures of the Pennsylvania Senator, were
true. Had you ever any means of satisfying
yourself that there is, or was, a real service of
gold in the President’s house ?”
“Aye ! that’s what we’d all like to know,” gays
another.
“How many pieces were there ?”
“What were they?”
“Aye, and what their heft was?”
“Mum, gentlemen, let’s drink— no tales out of
•chool, ha, ha ! No, no—mum’s the word.” And
looking funny and deep, merry and wise, all at
one and the same time, the man of all talk pro.
posed to drink and mum.
But they wouldn’t drink, and insisted on the
•ecret being let out—they wanted a decided and
positive answer, from a man who knew the
ropes.
“Gentlemen, said the victim, dropping his
*oiee into a sort of melo-dramatic stage whisper,
and stooping quite over the table, so as to collect
the several heads and ears as close into a pha
lanx as possible : “gentlemen, it's a fact!”
“What ?” says the party.
“All gold !” says the victim.
“A gold service ?” inquires the party.
“ Thirty-eight pieces /” continued the victim.
“Solid gold ?” chimed the rest.
“Just half a ton in heft /”
“You don’t tell us that /”
“Know it; eat out of ’em, then weighed ‘em
Mr
“P-h-e-w!” whistled som<T, while others went
into stronger exclamations.
“Fact, by the great ”
“Oh, it s all right, sir; no doubt of it now, sir,”
naid the mover ot the lousiness, grasping the vic
tim’s iiprarsed arm.
“Thera, of course, sir, you’re well acquainted
with Matr? Van; on good terms with the little
Magician,” continued the leading wa*.
“Me? me on good terms with .Matty ? Ha, ha! ;
that r a good joke; never go-to Washington
withont cracking a bottle with the little fox.'and
staying over night with him. Me on good terms
with Matty ? We re had many a spree together !
Yes, sir!” and tho knowing one winked right i
and left.
“Well, there’s old Bullion/’ continued one of
the interrogators, a fine portly old gent, “you !
know him, of course ?” !
“What, Tom Benton ? Bless your souls, I j
don’t know my letters half as well as I know old
Tom.”
“And Bill Allen, of Ohio ?” asked another.
“What sort of a fellow is Bill ?”
“Bill Allen ? Lord, O ! isn’t he a coon ? Bill
Allen ? I wish I had a dime for every horn, and
game of bluff, we’ve had together.”
“Well, there’s another of ’em,” inquiringly
a*ked a fat, farmer-looking old codger: “Dr.
Duncan, how’s he stand down there about
Washington ?”
| “Oh, well, he’s a pretty good sort of an old
! chap, but, gents, between you and I, (with an
other whisper,) there is a good deal of the ‘old
fogie’ senna and salts about him. But then he’s
death and the pale hoss on poker.”
“W hat, Doctor Duncan ?” says they.
“W hy y-e-e-s, of course. Didn’t he skin me
out of my watch last winter, playing poker, at
Willard’s?” “
“W ell, ’ continued the fat farmer-looking man,
“I didn’t know Duncan gambled /”
“Mum, not a word out of school; ha! ha!
! Let’s drink, gents. Gamble? Lord bless you,
I it’s common as dish-water down there—l’ve
played euchre for hours with old Tom Benton,
Harry Clay and Gen. Scott, right behind the
speaker’s chair /”
Then they all drank, of course, and some of
ihe party liked to have choked. The company
now proposed to adjourn to the smoking room,
and they arose and left the table accordingly.
The man of all talk promenaded out on to the
I steps, and in course of half an hour, says the
leading spirit of the late dinner, or wine party,
to him :
“Mr. —a —a —?”
“Ferguson, sir ; George Adolphus Ferguson
is iny address, sir,” responded the victim.
“Mr. Ferguson, did you know that your
friend Benton was in town 7” inquired the wag.
“M hat, Tom Benton here?”
; “And Allen,” continued the wag.
“What, Bill Allen, too?” says the victim.
“And Doctor Duncan.”
“Youdon’t tell me all them fellows are here ?”
“Aes, sir, your friends are all here. Come
I in and see them, your friends will be delighted,”
says the wag, taking Mr. Ferguson by the arm,
to lead him in.
“Ha, ha ! I’m a—l’m—a—ha, ha ! won't
we have a time ! But you just step in—l a—
I’ll be in in one moment,” but in less than half
that time, Mr. Ferguson mizzled, no one knew
whither!
‘I he gentlemen at the table, it is almost need
less to say, were no others than Benton, Allen,
Dunean,and some three or four other arbiters
I of the fate of our immense and glorious nation,
in her councils, and fresh from the capital.
Ferguson has been heard of since.
[American Sentinel.
Ilaaes iu the Desert.
The accustomed route is marked by a white line
of bleached bones extending to the horizon. This
extraordinary circumstance, it may well be supposed,
aroused all iny attention. I called to Bechara, who’,
however, did riot wait for my question, for he at once
read my desire in my obvious astonishment. “The
dromedary,” said lie, coming to my side, and com
mencing bis story, without preface, “is not so trou
blesome and importunate an animal as a horse. He
continues bis course without stopping, without eating,
without drinking ; nothing about him betrays sick
ness, hunger, or exhaustion. The Arab, who can hear
from such a distance the roar of a lion, the neigh of a j
horse or the noise of men, hears nothing from his j
hnghin, but its quickened or lengthened respiration,
it never utters a complaint or a groan. But when I
nature is vanquished by suffering, when privations j
have exhausted its strength, when life is ebbimr, tl,e
dromedary kneels down, stretches out its neclT, and ‘
closes its eyes. Its master then knows that all is i
over. He dismounts, and without an attempt to i
make it rise—for he knows tlie honesty of its nature. !
and never suspects it of deception or laziness he 1
removes the saddle, places it on the back of another j
dromedary, and departs, abandoning the one that is |
no longer able to accompany him. When night ap- ■
proaches, the jackals and hyenas, attracted"by the
scent, come up and attack the poor animal till noth
ing is left but the skeleton. We are now on the
highway from Cairo to Mecca ; twice a year the car
avans go and return by this route, and these bones,
so numerous and so constantly replenished, that the
tempest of the desert can never entirely disperse
them ; these bones, which, without a guide, would
lead you to the oases, the wells and fountains, where
the Arab finds shade and water, and would end by con
ducting you to the tomb of the Prophet; these bones
are those of dromedaries which perish in the desert.
If you look attentively, you will see some bones sim
ilar in size, and of a different conformation. These,
too, are the wrecks of wearied bodies, that have found I
repose b?fore they reached the goal. They !
are the bones of believers who desire to obey lhe j
Prophet’s command, that all the faithful shall once in I
their lives perform this holy journey, and who having I
been too long deterred from jjidertaking it by cares
or pleaures, commence thejr anlkujmatTe so late on
earth, that they are it in heaven.
Add to these some stiipuL'lkirkV- bloated eunuch,
who, sleeping when he oulhtito ldWe his eyes open,
has fallen and broken his neck ; plague its’ i
share, which often decimates a caravan, ams the si
moom, which often destroys one, and you will readily
see that these funeral guide-posts are planted with
sufficient frequency to preserve the road i:i good or
der, and to point out to the children the route pursued
by their fathers.” —Alexander Dumas.
Statistics of thf. Jews.— An official publication
informs us that there are hardly more than from
4,000,000 to 5.000,000 Jews in the whole world ;
whereas Buddhism numbers 400,000,000 adepts ;
Brahmism 200,000,000 ; Christianity 230,000.000
to 250,000 ; Mahoinetanisn from 130,000,000 to 150-
GOO,OOO ; and Fethism, (or pure idolatry,) from 80 -
000,000 to 100,000,000. The 5,000,000 Jews are thus
distributed : There are some 500,000 in Syria and
Asiatic Turkey; 250,000 in European Turkey;
000,000 in Morocco and North Africa; 50,000 to
80,000 in Eastern Asia; 100,000 in America; and
about 200,000 in Europe, viz.: 13,000 in England;
1,594 in Belgium; 850 in Sweden and Norway;
6,000 in Denmark; 70,000 in France; 52,000 in the
Low Countries; 1,120,000 ir. Russia, (more than
one fifth of the entire race ;) 631,000 in Austria and
its dependencies; 214,431 in Prussia ; 175,000 in
the German States; and 4,000 in Italy.
Composure UNDER Guilt.— The friends of Dr.
Webster urge that lie could not have exhibited the
composure he did after the crime of murder had been
committed, if he had been guilty of it, as it is known
that fie sat down on the same night and deliberately
played chess. This is not a certain test of inno- ■
ceni e, as it is recorded of the Countess of Somerset j
that she danced a measure with a nobleman just after
she had committed murder, and that she was all
gayetv and frolick, although she had just done a deed I
which, when it was discovered, filled mankind with j
horror. She and her husband were put on their !
trial for the murder of Sir Thomas Overvbury. The ■
Earl was convicted ; the Countess plead guilty. i
What Jenny Lind is to Get. — We copied an ar
ticle from the European Times, stating what were
some of tite conditions on which Jenny Lind was to !
co ue to this country, but nothing was said of the
amount of money she was to receive. The Liver
pool Mercury says, “Mr. Barnum’s agent was author
ized to otler §250,000 for one hundred and fifty
nights, and if that were not sufficient, he was em
powered to add an additional §125,000, making alto
gether upwards of £BB,OOO, or more than £SOO
(,5"2j500) .or each of the one hundred and fifty times
she is to sing. She has accepted these terms ; and i
it is said that £30,000 are to be placed in the hands of ‘
Baring, Brothers and Cos. before “the Swedish Night
ingale” starts from England. n ;
O’“Society is infinitely too tolerant of the roue—
the wretch whose life-long pleasure it has been to i
debase himself and to debauch others; whose heart
has been spotted with infamy so much, that it is no i
longer spotted, but hell-black all over; and who at
least deserves to be treated as travellers say the wild i
horses of the prairies treat a vicious fellow—the no- i
blest of the herd forming a compact circle around i
him, heads outward, and kicking him to death.” g 0
says Horace Mann. \ \
§ © HOT 50 iE sa S I DffiTT 0 ffiO 1!L □
A Fable.
In ancient times, when flowers, and trees, j
and fairies were on speaking terms, and all
friendly toge'her, one fine summer’s day, the
sun shone out on a beautiful garden, where
there were all sorts of flowers that ye could
mention, and a lovely but giddy Fairy went
sporting about from one to the other, (although
no one could see her, because of the sunlight,)
as gay as the morning lark ; then says the
Fairy to the Rose—“ Rose, if the sun was cloud
ed, and the storm came on, would ye shelter
and love me still “Do you doubt me say#
the Rose, and reddened up with anger. “Lily,”
says the Fairy to another love, “if the sun was
j cloudy and a storm came on,would ye shelter and
love me still ?” “Do you think 1 could change?”
j says the Lily, and she grew still paler with sor
row. “Tulip,” said the Fairy, “if the sun was
clouded, and a storm came on, would ye she!-
ter and love me still ?” “Upon my word,” said
the Tulip, making a very gentlemanlike bow,
“ye re the very first ladv that ever doubted my
constancy.” So the Faity sported on, joyful to
think of her kind and blooming friends. She
revelled away for a time, and then she thought
on the pale blue Violet that was almost covet
ed with its broad green leaves ; and although
it was an old comrade, she might have forgot,
ten it, had it not been for the sweet scent that
came up from the modest flower. “Oh, Violet,”
said the Fairy, “if the sun was clouded, and a
storm came on, would ye shelter and love me
still ! ’ And the violet made answer—“Y r e
have known me long, sweet Fairy, and in the
first spring-time, when there were but few other
flowers, ye used to shield from the cold blast
under my leaves ; now ye’ve almost forgotten
me—but let it pass—try my truth it ever you
should meet with misfortune, but I say nothing.”
Well, the Fairy skilled at that, and clapped
her silvery wings, and whisked singing off on
a sunbeam ; but she was hardly gone, when a
black cloud grew up at the north, all in a min- j
ute, and the light was shrouded, and the rain fell !
in slashings like hail, and away flies the Fairy j
to her triend the Rose. “Now, Rose,” says she, j
“the rain is come, so shelter and love me still.” j
“I can hardly shelter my own buds,” said the 1
Rose; “but the Lily has a deep cup.” Well, I
the poor little Fairy’s wings were almost wet
through, but she got to the Lily. “Lily,” says
she, “the storm has come, so shelter and love
me still.” “I am sorry,” says the Lily, “but if I
were to open my cup, the rain would beat in like j
fun, and my seed would be spoilt—the Tulip
has long leaves.” Well, the Fairy was down
hearted enough, but she went to the Tulip, who j
she always thought a sweet-spoken gentleman.
He certainly did not look as he had done in the
sun, but she waved her little, wand, and, “Tulip,” j
says she, “the rain and storm are come, and I
am very weary, but you will shelter and love me
still?” “Begone,” says the Tulip, “be off,”;
says he ; “a pretty pickle I should be in, if I let
every wandering trollop come about me.”
Well, by this time she was very tired, and i
her wings hung dripping at her back, wet in- j
deed — but there was no help for it, and leaning
on her silver wand, she limped off to the Violet"; :
and the darling little flower, with its blue eye, •
that s as clear as a kitten’s, saw her coming j
and never a word she spoke, but opened her j
broad green leaves, and took the wild wander- :
ing little creature to her bosom, and dried her i
wings, and then breathed the sweetest perfumes j
over her, and sheltered her until the storm was i
clean gone. Then the humble Violet spoke ;
and said, “I*airy Queen, it is bad to flirt ,
with many, for the love of one true heart is j
enough for earthly woman or fairy spirit ; the !
old love is better than the gay compliments of a
world of flowers, for it will last when the others
fade away.” j
And the Fairy knew that it was true for the j
bluoV iolet; and she contented herselfcver after, i
and built her downy bower under the wide- i
spreading A iolet leaves that sheltered her from j
the rude winter’s wind, and the hot summer’s i
sun, and to this very day the Fairies love the Vi- j
olet beds.
Fox and Pitt.
Mr. Fox was totally unlike his great rival. Pitt
was stately, taciturn, and of an austere temper. Fox
was easy, social, and of a kindiy disposition. Pitt
was tall and grave, and entering the House carefully’
j dressed, walked proudly to the head of the treasury
bench, and took his seat as dignified and dumb as a
statue. Fox was burly and jovial, entered the House
in a slouched hat, and with a careless air, and, as he
approached the opposition benches, had a nod for his
learned city member, arid a joke for that wealthy
knight of the shire, and sa-tsdmvn as much at ease as
if he were lonngingwn parlor of a country
inn. Pitt, as the could “speak a King’s
speech offhand,” so were his sentences
and his round smooth Dgriods dfcighted the aristocra
cy of all parties. Fox made the lords of the Treas
ury quail, as fie declaimed in piercing tones against
the ministerial corruption, while his friends shout
j ed “hear, hear !”and applauded till the House shook.
Pitt’s sentences were pompous, and sonorous, and
often “their sound revealed their hollowness.” Fox
uttered sturdy Anglo Saxon sense—every word preg
nant with meaning. Pitt was a thorough business
man, and relied for success in debate upon careful
preparation. Fox despised the drudgery of the office,
and relied upon his intuitive perceptions and his ro
bust strength. Pitt was the greater Secretary
Fox the greater Commoner. Pitt’s oratory was \
‘ike the frozen stalactites and pyramids which glitter j
around Niagara in mid-winter—stately, clear and
cold. Fox’s like the vehement waters Which sweep
over its brink, and roar and boil in the abyss below.
Pitt, in his great efforts, only erected himself the
more proudly, and uttered more full in Johnsonian
sentences, sprinkling his dignified but monotonous
“state paper style,” with pungent sarcasm, speaking
as one having commanding that Tt !
might stand fast. Fhx, off occasions, reasoned j
from first principles, where he could not ‘
persuade, and reeling ttraeV hSgreat thoughts until !
his excited feeling rocFeiniinr&ke the ocean in a
storm.
j Pitt displayed the most rhetoric, and his mellow
! voice charmed like the notps of an organ. Fox dis
j played the most argument, and his shrill notes pierc
jed like arrows. Pitt had an icy taste, Fox a
j fiery logic. Pitt had art ; Fox nature. Pitt
j was dignified, cool, cautious. Fox was manly’, gen
: erons and brave. Pitt had a tninJ, Fox a soul.
■ Pitt was a majestic automaton, Fox a living man.
Pitt was a minister of the King, Fox a champion of
the people. Both were early advocates of parliamen
tary reform, but Pitt retreated while Fox advanced ;
and both joined in denouncing and abolishing the
horrors of the middle passage. Both died in the
same year, and they sleep side by side in Westmin
ster Abbey, their dust mingling with that of their mu
tual friend, Wilberforce; while over their tomb
watches with eagle eye and extended arm, the moul
ded form of Chatham.—Stanton’s Reforms and Re
formers of England.
One of the Boys.—“l wish I was a ghost, blamed j
if I don’t,” said a poor covey the other night, as he sat;
soliloquizing in the cold. “They goes wherever they I
pleases, toll free ; they don’t owe nobody nothing, and
that’s a comfort. Who ever hearn tell of a man
what had a bill agin a ghost ? Nobody. They nev- \
er has to buy hats and vittals and liquor, nor has to
saw wood and run arrants, as I do. Their shirts nev- !
er get dirty, nor their trowsers out at the knees, as !
I ever heard tel! on. Ghosts is the only independent
people I knew on. I really wish I was one.” I
Mr. Hannegax.—We noticed, the other day, a
scandalous article, originating in a Boston paper, in
relation to the habits of Mr. Hannegan,our late Min
ister to Berlin, when abroad. The New York Globe
has the following in reference to the subject :
W e perceive that our Minister to Berlin, Hon. Ed
ward A. Hannegan, has returned in the Europa ; and
a personal friend of ours, who knew him intimately
abroad, authorizes us to say that the letter defamato
ry of Mr. Hannegan, published in the whig papers of
Boston, and copied elsewhere, makes nothing but
statements utterly without foundation. Mr. Hanne
gan never tasted a drop of ardent spirits during his
: whole residence in Europe, and his conduct was of
the most amiable and exampiary character under all
: circumstances. The stories, therefore, of the letter
writer in question, are most cruel, as well as unjust,
and were no doubt the manufacture of some person
al ill feeling and malignity. We trust that the jour
! nals which gave unintentional circulation to these
malicious charges against Mr Hannegan, will copy
this correction.
The Lawrence (Massachusetts) Murder. j
| The Boston Mail gives the following particu- 1
; lars of the atrocious murder recently perpetrated !
in the town of Lawrence, Massachusetts. The !
annals of crime do not furnish accounts of any
more horrid murders than the two recently com
mitted in this law-abiding commonwealth :
The bandages upon the face of the deceased
were discovered to consist of four thicknesses of
cotton cloth, with cotton wadding underneath,
the latter forced into the mouth and nostrils, and
the whole fastened with a strong cord tied round |
her neck, sufficient to produce strangulation in- j
stantly. So tightly, indeed, was the cord drawn j
that it was almost buried in the flesh back of
the neck, and exhibited deep indentations in the
I cotton and batting, with which the unhappy girl
was strangled. Some faint scratches appeared
upon the face, and the forehead exhibited marks
|of blows, but the skull was not fractured, as at
first reported, and the examining physicians
gave it as their opinion, that the wounds upon
the head were not, alone, sufficient to cause
I death. It was the supposition of the medical
I gentlemen, that the blows were given to put an
: end to her struggles, while the murderers were j
j proceeding in their work of strangulation with j
the cotton cloth.
i A further examination of the body brought to
light practices surpassing in inhuman barbarity,
: if possible, what we have already detailed of this !
| heart-sickening and terrible tragedy. An at- !
tempt to produce abortion had b -n made, and
the foetus, of about four or five months, had ap
parently been dissected with a sharp instrument, |
and parts of it taken away by piece-meal. The
evidence before the coroner upon this point we
| forbear to give. It is too horrible to contem
plate.
The investigations of the coroner continued
from Monday until about 3 o’clock yesterday
afternoon, when a verdict was rendered.
It was shown that the deceased had been 1
intimate for something more than a year past i
with a man keeping a stable in Lawrence, 1
named Darius ’Taylor ; that his intimacy first
began in Lowell, the deceased being at the time !
! a factory girl in that city. She subsequently ,
came to Lawrence and worked in the mills,
but owing to her intimacy with Taylor, (to I
whom it was reported she was about to be mar- ‘
riecl,) she neglected her duties and was dis-1
I charged. After passing some weeks in Boston j
with her friends, deceased again made her ap
pearance in Lawrence, and on the evening of the
21st of December last, she was seen to enter the
house ot Dr. Moses P. Clark, since which it ;
does nut appear that she has been seen alive.
Among the witnesses called, was Taylor, the j
lover ot the girl, who was examined at some I
length. The witness made no attempt to deny ;
•he intimacy which had existed between the de- j
ceased and himself, and that he advised her to
consult a physician.
| After a lull and careful investigation, (lie jury
j of inquest rendered the following verdict : “That
| Catharine L. Adams came to her death be
tween the 2ist December last past, and the sth
i ot January following, (1850,) at the house of
I Moses P. Clark, in Lawrence, by means of at*
i tempts to procure abortion—followed by a blow
|or blows on the head with some weapon or in- j
j strument, and by suffocation by the application
! () f cotton cloth over the mouth, done by some
! person or persons to the jury unknown.”
j Dr. Clara and his wile had been previously l
■ arrested, and after the rendition of the above!
J verdict they were arraigned on the charge of j
| murder before the police justice, and their ex
| animation assigned for Tuesday next.
(Kr w e confess that we like to meet with
such evidences of our national standing, as are
furnished by circumstances similar to those de
tailed in the following extract from the Wash
ington Union:
Interesting Anecdote.
Two young Americans, after completing their
education in Europe, were travelling with the
view of perfecting themselves in their classic
| studies. Thus engaged, they were sojourning
j for a short time in Vienna.’ One day, while
| crossing one of the streets, an Austrian officer of
high military rank, came dashing along at a fu
rious rate on horseback. One of these Ameri
cans apprehending that the horse would run
against him, raised a small cane, with the view
of turning the horse’s head; whereupon the
j officer struck him with his whip. Upon ascer
j taming the address of the officer, he demanded
! satisfaction of him ; which demand the officer
j treated with contempt, ridiculing the idea of his
| responding to an unknown American boy. In
i this strait the two young gentlemen laid their
l grievances before tbe American representative
iat that court. Our charge immediately address
ed the officer, and, after recapitulating the facts,
informed him that he must either apologize or
give the satisfaction required, and that, in the
e\ent of his failing to do so, he would, over his
own signature, as the representative of the
American government, publish him in every
leading paper on the continent as a poltroon. It
is needless to add that this demand was immedi
ately followed by an ample apology of the Aus
trian officer. But it is proper to add that this
government was then honored in the person of
Mr. Stiles.
Anecdote.—A man was angry with his wife, as
was often the case, either because she talked’too
much or contradicted him, or for some other reason ;
in short, he was out of humor with her, and resolved’
not to speak to her for a long, long time. He kept
his resolution for a few days very strictly. One
evening he is lying in bed ‘and wishes to sleep ;
he draws his nightcap over his ears, and his wife mav
say what she will, he hears nothing of it. The
wife then takes a candle, and carries it to every
hole and corner; she removes stools and chairs,
and tables, and looks carefully behind them. The’
husband sits up in bed, and gazes enquiringly at
her movements; he thinks that the din must have
an end at last. But he is mistaken. His wife
keeps on looking and searching. The husband
patience, and cries—“ What are yon looking
r y° ur 5° n ? ue ’” s^e answers, “and now
that I have found it, tell me why you are angrv ? ,f
Hereupon they became good friende again. & ’ \
I O* When boots first came into fashion, a pair
i were presented to a worthy mayor in some part of
England. He examined them attentively, and con
cluded that they were anew kind of basket. Accor
dingly, when he went to church the next Sunday, lie
! slung one of them around his neck, and put his pray
er book into it. His wife used the other to bring
home her marketing in.
Self Reliance. —The success of individuals in
life is greatly owing to their early learning to de
pend upon their own resources. Money, or the ex
pectation of it by inheritance, has ruined more men
than the want of it ever did. Teach young men to
rely upon their own efforts, to be frugal and indus
trious, and vou have furnished them with a produc
! tive capital which no man can ever wrest from them.
i Early - Rising. —The Rev. Mr. Strachan, who
used to rise every morning at five, said that he could
! not. by practice, convert the habit into a pleasant
one. The honest divine would find few dissenters
on this head. Eels may get used to being skinned ;
but unless a man lias a natural gift for the exercise,
he can never take delight in kicking off the bed
j clothes of a cold morning, two hours before day
light. i
i
j CT A correspondent of an English paper tells ;
j this anecdote: On asking an American acquain-!
j tance of mine the other day, why the damaged engine |
of the steamer Niagara was not repaired before she
left New York on her last trip, lie replied, “Why,
don’t you know ? Because the engine repaired by
the Yankees would have run away with the other !” ;
Beauty - of Truth. —After all, the most natural
beauty in the world is honesty and moral truth. For
all beauty is truth. True features make the beauty
of a face , and true proportions tiie beauty of architec- I
ture ; as true measures that of harmony and music, j
In poetry, which is all fable, truth still it the perfec- |
tion.
Mrs. James K. Polk. —This lady has, we learn, j
since the death of her husband, almost entirely seclu ;
ded herseit from society. She seems to lie inconsol- !
able in her grief. The huge pillars of the new 1
house into which they had just moved, when the |
melancholy bereavement occurred, a are still draped j
with black. It her husband had lived, she would ere 1
this have been traveling in Europe. But ‘-the ways !
of Providence are inscrutable, and she is now weeping j
over wrecked hopes, and blighted prospects. Sure
ly, there are not many hearts that will refuse her in
this hour of grief their sympathy. Even her late hus
band’s political enemies speak of her as being a most
worthy and estimable woman.
Hr To soften a man’s manners, there is nothing!
like love. We care not how boorish a fellow may he. I
gel him inflamed with calico, and in less than four !
weeks you will see him studying Byron and indulgino ;
in ruffled shirts.
Prediction Fulfilled.— The rumor of the death
of Gen. Bern, now Murad Bey, recalls a paragraph
circulated last year, that Bern hat! often declared his
conviction that he should die in 1850—-that he had
seen his own tomb in a vision, with the date 1850 en
graved upon it.
j
11-T It is estimated that one drunken man in every
ninety is annually convicted of crime, while the av
erage number of temperance men annually convict
ed o! crime is one in lour thousand one hundred and
sixty-four.
O’ Never take a paper more than ten years with
out paying the printer, or at least sending’ him a lock
ot your hair to let him know that you are about.
O Rousseau tells us that, to write a good love- ■
letter, yon ought to begin without knowing what i
you mean to say, and to finish without knowing what !
you have said.
(O ‘ I m taking down the census of a denselv ! |
populated neighborhood,” as the fellow said when he ‘
was swallowing the skipperv cheese. N
j i
Tun Present Year. —A German newspaper has !
recently published a prophecy by a Benedictine monk, j |
who died in 1847, the purport of which is that the f
present year, 185 J, will be one of unusual prosperity. ! ‘
The different sects of christianiiy will in that year ac- ! ‘
cord. The Sultan will be poisoned, (Abdonl Medjil j
had best take care,) ami his empire will become Chris- i <
tian. Russia will suffer much from a warlike nation i
of the east. A German Prince will found an cast- { ‘
ern empire. Grain, fruit, lentils and ot her vegeta- ! ’
hies will be so plentiful that the barns will be unable i (
to contain them. The disease of the potato will ev- j i
ery where cease, and old men will not remember !
such a year of fruitfulness. The wine of this year!
will surpass that of the year ol the comet.
| Dirt: More Left. —The razor-strop man, holding
I fort!) at the Agricultural State Fair, was thus add res”
I sed by a young man, who thought himself remarkably
j smart—
“ You’re a fool!”
“And there’s one more left of the same sort,” said
i the strop man.
O’The Huntsville Advocate says : “The hnsi-
I ness on the Tennessee River, from Decatur to Kno.x
----j ville, has increased so much that the present stearn
| boats engaged on it are altogether itnulfi dent ; 2
; or 3 new boats, able to carry from 200 to 500 hales
! °J cotton, would find plenty of freight up and down.
The Rail Road at Chattanooga has opened new pour
| cesof business, and vastly increased old ones. The
present boats above the shoals have more than thev
can do.” J
More United States.— The territory, not vet
formed into states, it is said, will make forty-six and a
half states as large as Pennsylvania. Os these thir
ty-five will be north of 3G 30, or the slave state, sup
posing the Missouri compromise line to be adopted.
Emigration of the Florida Indians.—' The Tal
lahassee Floridian of the 9th inst. gives the terms
upon which the Florida Indians have agreed to emi
grate, and says that it is believed that’the Indians
will be out of the country by the last of May. The
following ate the terms:
“Each warrior is to receive (before he goes on
board the boat) §SOO, each woman §IOO, each child
§IOO. Bowlegs himself will receive about §IO.OOO.
and two or three sub-chiefs, about §5,000 each
They are to be provided with rations tor one year
Alter they at rive in Arkansas, and to be guarantied
in the possession of their negroes. It is estimated
that the whole cost of the removal will be about
§225,000.”
Distress of Poor Men in California.— A let
ter from San Francisco, Dec. 30, Iroin a gentleman
formerly engaged in business in Philadelphia, says:
“It is a mistaken notion (or poor men to come to
this country. lam engineering on a small piece of
wood, where about 80 bands are employed at half a
dollar per hour for laboring, which is the lowest wa
ges ever paid in California; and I can safely sev
that within the last four or five day's, I have been
compelled to refuse work to some eight or ten hun
dred men. I am endeavoring to get some other
work ot the same kind in operation, when I hope to
give bread to many a hungry mou'h. Mo man can
calculate upon the amount of distress here, unless
situated as j have been for the last ten days. ’ I have
men shoveling sand that perhaps never before had a
shovel in their hands to work, viz., 2 doctors of med- ■
icine, 2 captains, 4 mates, 2 jewelers, 1 dentist, and
about 18 to 20 men who have been brought up to
the quill or behind the counter. Whoever comes lo i
California must make up his mind todoanythinu.”
Predictions. —He who has a high forehead
| will have his eyes under it, and will live all
the days of his life. _
He who has a long nose will have the
more to blow, and the better to handle.
He that is bald will be likely to have no
hair; but if ho happens to have any, it will
not be on the bald place. 4
Sentiment—A contemporary savs : “When we
see a neat, pretty girl, with a free but innocent air
with cheeks like roses and heavenly blue eyes, which
seem to repose in serenity beneath their silken Jash
es—we always wish she was near a mud-puddle , and
we had to lift her over.”
‘ orne out here, and I’ll lick the whole on
ye, as the bov said to the molasses candvinthel
shop window,
An Irish Will.
Chailes Lever’s new story of Con. Cregan
°Pens with a good joke which Con. tells at the
expense of his father’s reputation for honesty.
An old fellow named McCabe had two sons,
who were always fighting between themselves
who should have the old man’s money. Final
ly Mat cleared out, and ’listed, leaving his
brother Peter in possession of the field. The old
man died, but refused to make a wlllj declaring
that the property should bo fairly divided Le*
tween the two sons. This did not suit Peter ;
so as soon as the old man breathed his last, on
ly Peter being bv, he remembered that Con;
Cregan’s father looks very like the defunct.—
Ofl he goes, calls up the elder Cregan, and
offers him five gtdden guineas if he will person
ate tho dead man long enough to make a will
bequeathing all to Peter. Cregan yields, is
put into the dead man’s bed, and shoes, tho
lawyer called, and neighbors summoned. It is
at night, and the room not well lighted. No.-
body suspects the fraud, and Cregan proceed*
to dictate the will:
“Where’s Billy Scanlan? I want to fkd
my will !”
“He’s here, father!” said Peter, taking
Billy by the hand and leading him to the bed
side.
“Write what I bid ye, Billy, and be quick ;
j for I havn’t a long time afore me here, f
j die a good Catholic, though Father O’llafforty
j won’t give me the ‘rites !’ ”
j A general chorus of muttered “Oh, niusha,
| musha,” was now heard through the room ; but
; whether iu grief at the sad fate of the dying
; man, or the unflinching severity of the priest,
| is hard to ay.
| “I die in peace with all my neighbors, and
1 all mankind !’’
i
Another chorus of t lie company seemed to
approve these charitable expressions.
“I bequeath unto my son, Peter—and never
was there a better son, or a decenter boy !—.
have you that down? I bequeath unto my son,
Peter, the whole of my two farms of Killimtin
i doonery and Knorksheboora, with the fallow
! meadows behind Lynch s house ; the forge and
i the right of turf on the Dooran bog. I give
him, and much good may it do him—Lanty
Cassarn’s acre, and the Luary field, with the
Lime.kiln ; and that reminds me. that my
mouth is just as- dry; let me taste whatyo
have in the jug.”
Here the dying man took a hearty pull, and
seemed considerably refreshed by it.
“W here was I, Billy Scnnlan ?” says he ;
“oh, I remember, at the lime-kiln ; 1 leave
him—that’s Peter, I mean—the two potato gar
dens at Noonan’s Well ; and sure it is the elo
gaut fine crops grows there.”
“Ain’t you gettiiT wake, father, darlin’?”
says Peter, who began to be afraid of my father’*
loquaciousness ; for, to say the truth, the punch
got into his head, and lie was greatly disposed
to talk.
“I urn, Peter, my son.” says he ; “I am get*
ting wake ; just touch my lips again with tho
jug. Ah, Peter, Peter, you watered the
drink !”
“No, indeed, father! but it’s the taste i*
leavin you, says Peter ; and again a low r cho.
ms of compassionate pity murmured through
the cabin.
“Well, I’in nearly done now,” says my fath
er ; “there s only one little plot of ground re
maining ; and I put it on you, Peter—as yo
wish to live a good man, and die with the same
easy heart I do now—that ye mind my last
words to ye here. Are ye listening ?”
“Yes, sir. Yes. father. We’re all minding, ’ r
chorused the audience.
“Well, it s my lust will and testament, anrf
may—give me over the jug”—here he took a
long drink—“and may that blessed liquor bo
poison to me, it lain not as eager about this as
about every other part of my will ; I say, then,
I bequeath the iittle plot at the cross-roads to
poor Con. Cregan ; for he has a heavy charge,
and is as honest and hard.working a man as
ever I knew. Bea friend to him, Peter, dear;
never let him want while ye have it yourself;
think of me on my death-bed whenever he asks
ye for any trifle. Is it down, Billy Scanlan ?
the two acres at the cross to Con. Cregan, and
his heirs, in scclu scclorum 1 Ah, blessed lie
the Saints ! but I feel my heart lighter after
that !” says he : “a good work makes an easy
conscience : and now I'll drink all the com
pany’s good health, and many happy re
turns ”
What he was going to add, there’s no say.
iug ; but I eter, who was now terribly fright
ened at the lively tone the sick man was as
suming, hurried all the people away into anoth
er room, to let his father die in peace.
When they were ail gone, Peterslipped back:
to my father, who was putting on his brogues
in a corner: “Con.” said he, “ye did it well •
but that was a joke about the two acres at the>
cross.”
“Os course it was, Peter!” says he ; “sure it
was all a joke, for the matter of that ; won’t E
make the neighbors laugh to-morrow, when I
tell them about it !”
“Sure, ye wouldn t be mean enough to go
against ver father s iljing words!” says mv
‘father; “the last sentence ever he spoke;”
and here he gave a low, wicked laugh, that
made mvselfshake with fear.
e, y Con. ! ’ says Peter, holding out
his hand ; “a bargain’s a bargain ; ye’re a deep
fellow, that s atl ! and so it ended ; and my
father slipped quietly home over the bog might,
ily well satisfied with the legacy he left him
self.
I Jj' OOD ANI) J RUE.-— Dr. Franklin remarks,,
j 1 hat a man as often gets two dollars for the
one he spends in informing his mind, as he does
for a dollar he lays out in any other way. A.
man eats up a pound of sugar (or some other
! tnfle ) an** is and the pleasure he enjoy
i ed has ended ; but the information he gets from)
a newspaper, is treasured to be enjoyed ane-wr
and to be used whenever occasion or inclination
calls for it. A newspaper is not the wisdom of
one man or two men, it is the wisdom of the a"e
and of past ages too A family without a news
paper is always half an age behind the times in
general information; besides, they can never
think much, nor find much to talk about. And
then there are little ones growing up in ignorance
without any taste for reading. Who, then, would
be without a newspaper?”
Duel Between Ladies. — A duel lately occurred
at Madrid between two young ladies. One was
ultimately shut in tbe leg; and the combat ceased
pro tem. Finally a reconciliation was effected bv the
gallant eenor whose charms had evoked the app'e
discord. - rr