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THE COURIER.
BY J. G. M’WHORI'ER.
sjy e No Subscriptions received for less time
then six months. _
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2^ per cent, deducted in their favor.
THE ARABIAN STEED.
BY THOMAS HAYMICS BIYLY-
Ada was the daughter of a powerful ra
ah, who, in the reign of the Emperor.
Akbar, dwelt in a superb palace on the
' banks of the Jumna.
The rajah was proud of his beautiful
child and loved her, as far as his stern na
ture was susceptible of such a passion.—
Bet the duties of his situation and his war
like pursuits called him frequently from
het; and much of the dark-eyed Hindoo s
lime was spent in dreary solitude amid
the gardens of her father’s palace.
Beautiful as these gardens were, spark
ling with gilded paviliops, lhe air cooled
with silver fountains, and rendered fra.
grant by the odotiis of every rare-plant,
- still this perpetual solituib wearied her,
Che society of her female attendants failed
to interest her, and as she reclined be
neath the pendant branches of a date tree,
she sighed, and felt more like a prisoner
in a cage, than a Princess in the pleasute
gardeq of her Palace. .
She had dismissed her attendants, and
lay thoughtfully leaning her head upon her
hand, when a rustling amid the branches
of an orange tree attracted ber attention,
and she started to her feet io an instant
with an exclamation of alarm apd surprise,
as she distinctly saw among the clustering
leaves and blossoms, the bright eyes and
dark glowing features of a mao.
The branches hastily parted, & a young
* Mahomedan rushing forward, knelt before
her.
•‘Who art thou?” she exclaimed, “Mer
cy, mercy, I am defenceless spare me !”
“Mercy,’* replied the Moor, “ *tis I
must crave mercy of you ; I am defence
less, fair lady. lam at your feet, and in
. your power.”
“What brought you here 1” she replied.
‘ “Know you not the danger ?”
-'*•» „ A danger I have braved too ofien to
r heed it for an instant now.”
S . “Often I What mean you 1”
“Daily at this hour, the hour of y< ur
Solitary ramble, have I entered these gar
dens, daily have I lurked behind the
1 shrqbs that surround your favorite bower,
daily have f gazed on you unseen.”
> • “For what purpose”
“My purpose ! madness—death !”
, “.Death? to me who never wronged
yoi>,,who never injured a human being?"
j. '“Tayou, lady—no, tio-r-nut to you— I
- 'Would not harm you for the world.”
„ ‘‘Death to whom then ?”
♦“\L“TomyselL”
• » *-*Why'>-s*what brought you here ?”
as*- /“Accident, or perhaps idle curiosity fist
‘ ' tn‘bugl t me here; and 1 looked on you for
th®-first time; need I Say why daily, after
I had once beheld you, I came again ?”
if you are seen,” cried Ada, “no
ftting can safad'yiTu from my father’s rage;
you know the barrier, the awful impassi
' tie barrier that divides vour race from
mine—madman, begone/”
The young Moor, whose face and form
were such as might have been chosen by
a sculptor who wished to represent the
perfection of eastern beauty, spoke not,
' moved not ; he continued kneeling before
the agitated girl, while his dark brilliant
eyes fixed upon her countenance seemed
eagerly to read its varying expression,that
memory might have a store of sweet tho’ts
..to Live upon, when the reality shou d no
longer stand before him.
Ada could not bear the earnest gaze of
those fond eyes; where was her anger, her
indignation at the intrusion of the stran
ger ? gone ! She catted not for her atten
dants ; no, she trembled last they should
Come.
“I await my doom,” at length mutter
ed the intruder. “1 scorn to flv; my dream
of sacred love is ovei ; my stolen watch
ings, so dear, though so hopeless, are at
an end; ynu will cat! your father’s guards,
and I shall die.”
iu- -*‘Jio,«n —you shall not die—not if A
'i-da can save you; I will nut call them, no,
K,J lr dread theif coming.”
“Then you forgive my boldness ?”
" “Yes—only begone—save yourself.”
we meet again ?”
—'•-‘^Never/”
‘Then I will stay and die ; better to
•die here, at your command, in your pre
. x saoce, than to go hence and linger out a
of hopeless love, never beholding you
Sgain.”
Foor Ada had never been before ad
dressed in love’s own language. Her
band hadbeen sought by Princes and No
bles, who, secure in her father’s sanction,
had addressed her in terms of admira
tion, but whose looks and assents wero
cold and spiritless when compared with
the ardour of the youthful lover who knell
before her.
“c or my sake,if not for your own. go,"
the cried.
“Then we may meet again ?”
‘Yes, only leave me now, you know
OOt half your peril. To-morrow is the
annual festival in honor of Vishnu, I shall
be there, and will contrive to speak to
you—hark I”
She pointed to orange trees. A foot
step was heard at a distance. The Moor
grasped hftr hand, pressed it to his lips,
and was lost among the orange, blossoms
just as the chief officer of the rajah enter
ed the bower to inform Ada that her la
ther desired her presence. She cast one
anxious glance around her, breathed more
freely when she found that her lover lay.
Unsuspected in his fragrant ambush, and
followed by her attendant, returned to the
palace. There was no festival in Hin
dustan so splendid as that celebrated annu
ally in honour of Vishnu in the province
over which the rajah governed, the gar
dens on the banks of the Jumna were
splendidly decorated for the occasion, and
at noon were filled by crowds of persons,
all eager in their various situations either
to see or to be seen; to pay due rever.
eoce to Vishnu, or to be duly reverenced.
Kettle drums sounded, golden armour
glistened, downy feathers waved in costly
turbans; caviliers bearing silver battle
axes rode proudly on their prancing milk
white steeds, and princely ladies were
borne in glittering palankeens on the
backs of Elephants,
Ada was there, pale and sad ; here sto
len mysterious interview with her unknown
lover, was so recent, so unexpected, so
unlikely to end happily, that site lay on
her rose coloured cushions.fanned by her
favorite slave, without taking the trouble
to draw aside the amber curtains of her
litter to look upon the festivities which
surrounded her.
Towards evening the gardens were il
luminated with thousands of many colored
lamps; sho raised herself and looked a
round her, but glancing hastily over bright
vistas and radiant bowers, her oyes rested
on a wide spreading tree beneath whose
overshadowing branches a comparatively
dark space remained. Sho there saw the
form of h»r unknown lover ; ho was lean
ing against the tree, wph his eyes fixed
upon her ; she told her slave with assu
med levity that sho had vowed to gather a
cluster of the blossoms of that tree, alone
to gather them, and desiring her to await
her return, she hastened beneath the can
opy formed by its boughs.
Selim was indeed there.
“Speak not,” she earnestly whispered.
“I must not stay for an instant, I dare not
listen to vou—but mark my words, and if
you love me obey them. Ido not doubt
your love, I do not doubt your constancy,
but I shall appear to doubt boih when you
hear my request.”
“Speak lady, I will obey you,” said the
Moor.
' “G<>,” whispered AiJa,‘‘buy tho swift
est of Arabian steeds, ride him across ynt>
phin three limes in every day ; in thv
morning, at noon, and in the evening ; .and
every time yen ride.him, swim the Jumna
on his back.”
“Is that all t” said Selim ; “it shall be
done.”
“It is all,” replied Ada; “to prove
your love you will I know readily do if,
but t<> prove your constancy, or rather to
ensure our safetj, it must be done three
times everyday for the space of one yeut 1”
“A year !”
“Yes, at the expiration of the year, a'
this festival, on this veiy day, if neither
courage nor constancy have been wanting,
meet me again on this spot. I can wait
for no reply—bless you, bless you.”
Ada, with a few leaves of the tree in
her trembling hand, hastened back to het
palankeen, and Selim again, alone, gazed
from his shadowy hiding-place on ihe gay
festival, in which his eyes beheld one
form alone. How bi ief seems the retro
spect of one year of happiness ! How
sad, how interminable seems the same
space of time, in anticipation, when we
know that at its close some long looked
for bliss will be obtained, some cherished
hope realised !
Selim bought a steed, the whi’est and
the swiftest of the province, and he soon
loved it dearly, for it seemed to be a liv
ing link connecting him with Ada.
He daily ihreo timos traversed the val
ley, and thrice he forded me deep and
foaming river ; he saw not his love, he re
ceived no »oken from her ; but if his eyes
did not deceive him, he occasionally saw
a female form on the summit of her fa
ther’s tower, and a snow-white scarf was
sometimes waved as he speeded rapidly
through the valley.
To Ada lhe year passed slowly, anx
ionsly ; often did she repent of her injunc
tion to the Moor, when the sky was dark
and s'ormy, and when the torrents from
the mountains had rendered rhe Jumna
impetuous and dangerous. Then on he<
knees on the rajah’s tower, she would
watch for her lover ; dreading at one mo
ment lest fear should make him abandon
both her and lhe enterprise, <& then pray
ing that he might indeed forsake both, ra
ther than encounter the terrors of that
foaming flood ! Soon she saw him speed,
ing from the dark forest ; he plunged fear
lessly into the river ; he buffetted with its
waves ; he gained the opposite shore ; a
gatn and again she saw him brave he dif
ficulty, again and again he conquered it,
and again it was to be encmin erod. At
length the annual festival arrived, the gar
dens were adorned with garlands, and re
sounded with mesic and gladness ; once
more, ton, Selim stood beneath the shad
ow of the wide spreading tree.
He saw crowds assemble, but he heeded
them not ; he heard ihe crash of cymbals
and the measured beat of the kettle drums.
The rajah passed near him, with his offi
cers and armed attendants, and these were
followed by a troop of damsels ; then
came Ada the rajah’s daughter. She was
no longer the trembling bashful girl he
had seen at the last festival. Proudly A
sell possessed she walked the queen of the
procession, her form glittering with »
kingdoms wealth of diamonds. Selim%
heart sunk within him.
“She is changed, sh« will think no more
of me! he involuntarily exclaimed. But
at that moment her dark eye glanced to
wards his hiding place..
She spoke to her attendants, and the
procession paused as she approached rhe
tree alone, and affected to gather some of
its leaves.
“Are you faithful 1” said she, in a low
tone; “nay—f wrong you by the ques'iop;
I have seen that you are so ; if you have
courage, as you have constancy, you are
mine, and l am your’s—hush—where is
your steed I”
Selim held its bridle rein.
“Then in your hands I place my hap
piness,” she added ; “these gems shall be
our wealht, and your truth my trust—a
way ! away !”
Selim in an instant bore Ada to the
back of his Arabian, and ere the rajah and
his attendants were aware she had quilted
the cavalcade—swift as the wind he bore
her from the gardens.
The pursuit was ins'antaneous, and ut
tering curses and indignant reproaches,
the rajah and a hundred of his armed fol
lowers were soon close at the heels of t|ga
fugitives.
‘‘Follow ! follow !” cried the foremost,
“we gain upon them.we will tear her flftjiF
the grasp of the They
approach the river’s bank, and turbulent
as it now is, after the storm of yesterday,
they will either perish in its waters, or we
shall seize them on its brink.”
Still they gained upon them ; the space
between the pursuers and the pursued be
came smaller and smaller, and the re-cap
tore of Ada seemed certain. When Io !
to tna asiooishment of those who follow
ed him, Selim’s well trained steed plun
ged into the foaming torrent, battled
bravely with i's waves, bore his burthen
safely through them, and bounding up the
opposite bank, continued his flight !
The pursuers stood baffled the riv
et’s bank ; their horses having been train
ed to no such feat as that they had just
witnessed, it would have been madness to
have plunged amid tho eddying whirlpools
of the swollen Jumna.
Every tale should have its moral.-
What then will be said of m ; ne, which re
cords tho triumph of a disobedient child
io a secret, unauthorised attachment ? A
temporary triumph which so rarely leads
to happiness ! For this part of my story
I have no apology to offer ; but from th a
little history of Selim and Ada, this small
grain of moral inference may be extract
ed : Lad ies will do well to try the inte
grity and prove the constancy of their
lovers ere they marry ; ami lovers should
endure trials and delays with fortitude,
and thus prove the unchanging truth of
their affection.
From the Alton (111-} Spectator.
AN INDIAN STORY’.
A week or ten days since som r of the
settlers in the neighborhood of Galena
wero alarmed by the news th it »he Indi
ans were marching io great force upon
tho town, murdering all the whites that
fell into their hands. The country was
in commotion. All that believed them
selves in the vicinity of danger unde their
way to Galena for sheher. But alas’ ru
mor would not let them rest in safety.—
Dreadftd : ndeed was the suspense in which
tlio citizens were on that d tv, every m •
ment expecting the appearance of a force
which it would be folly to oppose: and
intense was the anxiety evinced to obtain
entolligence from one who had gone in
the dirction of ihe threatened invasion,
determined to sacrifice his life or obtain
some valuable informa'ion in relation to
the movements “f the foe. His story was
soon told; and our readers sha I judge if
it was calculated to allay lhe excited fears
of bis listeners. He had proceeded but n
short distance in the direction pointed out
by the alarmists when his ears weie as
sailed by sounds that he thinks would
have caused him to relinquish his purpose,
had he not adopted the precaution taken
by the you'h in the eastern taje io pursuit
of the singing bird and golden apple, and
by thrusting h : s fingers in his ears thrust
out of his mind tho frightful images which
these noi-es were calculated to conjure
up. He walked a few steps further; and
he knew there was helish work going on
in thfc bottom below him. He crawled
with care to a lar. e !<>g that rested on the
brow <>f the hill, and after noiselessly dis
placing the hazels that obstructed his view,
he elevated his head, and after for a mo
ment shutting his eyos for the purpose of
nerving himself to endure the sight he was
to witness, he opened them "n tho scene
below. He saw two human forms hold
ing a prostrate body to the earth, and in
the hands of one he could discern a knife,
with which its possessor was evidently in •
dieting wounds on tho helpless prisoner,
who in anguish sent forth such piercing
sounds, as the narrator thought it impos
sible for human longs to make. Did that
short gaje unseat his reason? or why did
he throw off all concealment, and proceed
to the very centre of dange:? No; that
glance, brief as it was sufficed to show
him that these savages were Ills nearest
neighbors, and their victim was a large
hog, the last of the gang, whoso ears they
had cut into swallow-forks, taken offcrops,
ovet slopes, or underbits, or some other
marks by which they had chosen to de
signa'e their property. Which it was, wo
did not precisely understand; but the cu
rious can be enlightened by referring to
the books of the clerk of the county of
Jo Daviess, whoso bounden duty it is t'»
keep a record of these things.
Quiet was soon restored to Galena and
its neighborhood; and truth was sent off to
overtake rumor, and correct hor report.
Rumor arrived first in Alton; and she was
loudly declaring that Galena had been
stormed by 4 or 5,000 Indians, and that
when she left they were amusing them
selves with the massacre of theinhabitanfs,
when sho was flatly contradicted by the
arrival of truth.
The old lady of whom the Galeniau
speaks very truly remarks that nothing is
l<»st by the totein of a story; and she for
one will not be surprised that the fears of
Indians lately entertained in the neighbor
hood of Galena should have originated
stories of such magnitude.
TVcdding, and TFafer.—The
Centinel of Friday, in publishing the nup
tials of Mr. Reuben Hunting and Miss Sa
rah Lamprey, which took place on Thurs
day evening, remarks; “Pure
las graced the nuptials of the first happy
pair in Eden’s blissful bowers, was used
on this occasion.” This is wo should term
being temperate ‘"above what is written.”
h did not probably occur to the happy
group, that our Saviour exerted his supre
natural power at a wedding in Cana of
Galilee to turn water into wine, and thus
“make glad” the hearts of all present. —
Bost. Eo. Gax.
From the New-Orleans Bulletin.
I tr " I
The Travels of the New-Orleans,(daily)
Mail, By an Eye- Witness.
As it has become fashionable to chron
icle the movements, of important person-
propose to give you a brief sketch
of the travels of lhe. New-Orleans dai
ly mail, from which it will be seen, it is
not so much remarkable that its fails, as
that it ever arrives. As a passenger in
I the mail stage coach,l left Augusta,(Geo)
Friday night, Aptii sih. I say nothing
1 here of a drunken driver carelessly dri
ving the coach into a swamp and there
1 “miring” his horses so as to be delayed
three hours, nothing of swiming a creek
with the great lettei mail exposed <0 the
1 water, when it might have been easily put
where it could have been kept dry, noth
• ing of the miserable stage coach in which
t a passenger shieldod himself and the
1 newspaper bags with an umberrella,inside
1 with curtains-drawn and windows shut,
as all were—nothing of all this, for tho
mail was only 'en hours <OO late when it
retched Columbus (Ge<>.) and it was car
ried supei latively well, comparatively
1 speaking.
Tuesday, the 9th of April, 8 o’clock,
A. M. I left Columbus, (Geo.) in the
• mail cart, in which are transported mail
and passengers to Ft. Mitchell, in the
Creek /kgency. At 11, A. M. we were
there, distance ton or twelve miles. Tues
; day evening at 7 o’clock a driver named
Sherrill, nr the like, arrived with no mail
from New-Orlean«. It was the duty
of the driver to take on the mail as soon
■as possible,but ne preferred a good night’s
sleep to driving iq the night, as all care
ful men would. '
Wednesday the 10th, Sherrill rose as
ter sunrise. The stage agent requested
' him to leave Ft. Mitchell by day light,
but it is suspected, that Sherrili mid the
tavern keeper made an agreement !<» de
lay the >assengers till after breakfast, so
as to get 50 cent" for that important tneal
and a Pick-veno for a mint julip. Af
ter the driver bad carefully stuffed him
-1 selfybr nothing, as he told us, he got un
dec way, but first he threw out one of the
1 newspaper bags, because as hq said, ‘ihe
load was too heavyand yet two horses
might have taken with considerable ease,
the whole load and the two passengers.
' Sherrill drove to his stand distant 25
miles, on Wednesday, and arrived there
t by 2 o’clock P. M. and there the daily
mail stopped for that da\l Wednesday
night the newspaper bags ho itt the
i barn.
’ Thursday the I4M, At Sherrills stand,
} there were three drivets and twelve ot
fourteen horses. Sherrill on Wednesday
’ and Thursday, eat and slept, and played
( lhe fiddle for, his horse’s benefit. Row
( land, another driver, lectured Redvine,
f the third, driver, for spending his leisure
, time in violating the graves of the poor
! Creeks, <fc the redigging up Indians teeth
1 to sell to the Demists. I mention this
to show what sort of a wretch is inttus-
I ted with the United States mail. Rowland
did nothing but take care of his horses till
' 4 /clock, on Thursday. Redvine slept &
snored, and shaved and eat. Thursday
was a beautiful day. The roads in that
quarter were as good as usual—Thursday
at 4, P. M. after being still twenty-six
hours, tho daily mail was in motion.
Greenwood a good driver, came in after
it, took it as soon as he arrived, drove
twelve miles to the end of his stand, and
thus did his doty. Thursday night the
daily mail stopped. During the night there
was a heavy shower, with lend thunder
and vi -ed lightning. There was no moon,
• and thick darkness was in the wilderness.
If this is an excuse to delay the daily
mail ten hours, be it so.
Friday the 12th, the daily mail was
in motion by the dayligh', the passengers
waking the driver, it was then carried
• 12 miles and taken by a shaggy headed
fellow called Landrum who was not only
too lazy to Keep himself clean.but too la
zy to jump into his mail cart, and 'to say
“get up’ to the horses. He confessed that
his horses had not been fed for 12 hours.
As it was altogether out of the question
for such a driver to lift nespaper bags into
a low mail cart, Landrum left the whole
newspaper mail that had arrived some ime
previous, and crept on without it. At
Landrum’s stand the great Nmhern daily
mail for Washington, New York and
New England, had been stowed away in
a log house over twelve hours. Landrum
took us about 8 o’clock, A. M. when he
had not eaten his breakfast. At 10 Lan
drum became hungry and stopped to have
his breakfast cooked, for there was none
in preparation. The passengers remon
strated. Landrum was sulky, and per
sisted. One hour was lost in preparing
and eating the breakfast, to obtain which
for a driver, the great New-Otleans daily
mail was stopped, the daily
mail, pray, Remember that.
—Landrum at last crept along to the end
of his stand, where he grunted and lifted
his two legs out of the mail cart. It was
now dinner time. The daily mail was
stopt three-fourths of an hour for the dri
ver to eat dinner, and then an active in
telligent fellow took os to Montgomery.
The last I saw of the mail was when bound
for Mobile in an open go-carl to which
were harnessed foyr horses so poor that
the crows would not eat them without
grumbling.
The above is an unvarnished account
i of the progress & travels of Uncle Sam’s
• important mail through the Creek Na
■ tioh. For these extraordinary delays, the
> excuse will be “great rains,” “high wa-
l lers,” “broken bridges,” “badroads.”,
AU these excuses are in fact true, but aC
active contractor, and active drivers,
would not have lost a single day.—-Trav
ellers on horseback, were two days ahead
of the daily mail. Travellers in gigs or
sulkeys, were a day and a half ahead of
the daily mail. Emigrants with droves of
negroes were a day ahead of the daily
mail. Mr. Forbes is the contractor who
undertakes to carry the mail through the
Creek Nation. ' He is paid ♦ very large
sum; but if the mail is to be carried onl<
in fair weather, and in good times, it can
bn carried for <’R O hall of the sum given
him. The truth is, he is too much of a
good naturHd, easy man, and does not
think quite enough for the age ha lives
in. Half of lhe drivers are good for no.
thing, not half civilised, and wholly uo
wor.hy «f trust. Under such manage
ment, it is not wonderful that the daily
mail so often fails.—The Post master
General t who must listen tn excuses, and
who is Hable to all sorts of imposition
from the nature of the road where this
mail is carried, is not so much in fault as
the contractors. Travellers, and the
newspaper press, and a rigid enforcement
of penalties for lost mails, will bring the
contractors and drivers to their senses.
This mail is of more importance than any
other in the Union.—lt is the great chan
nel com nu'iica'ion between lhe grett
cities of lhe North, and lhe great mart of
the Mississippi; and it should travel night
and day with all possible speed; and no
.hing that human enterprise can surmount,
should be suffered to delay its progress.
LIFE ASSURANCES.
For the information of those who may
wish to provide for their families at a very
small rate,&whohave not death the means
of rendering them any adequate assistance
at their, by will or inheritance, the fol
lowing case (which occurred in this city
within a few months past, and which is
but partially knownj is now made public.
A merchant well advanced in life, and
who for more than 40 years had been
successful in business, became unfortu
nate. Ills family was large, and, so far
as his means extended, must necessarily
have boon left destitute io the event of his
speedy dissolution, which, however,
u»t, at that time, even probable. He,
notwithstanding, it seems was fully sensi
ble of the uncertain tenure of Life, and
caused his to be insured in the latter pan
of November, at the Baltimore Life In
surance Company in the sum ofslß,ooo.
H" died in the middle <>f February ensu
ing, within eleven weeks from tljodate
of ihe Policy, and his widow has teceiv
ed tho whole sum without any trouble or
expense, and before the period provided
for the payment thereof had expired.—
This provident act has rendered his fami
ly not only comfortable, bu', with pru
dence, independent; and they have
abundant caoso to bless the day when
the 1 esolution so happy in its cone-qnen
ces r as formed and acted on.
Qy** Editors, generally, may render an
important service to their patrons, b<
causing this communication to be inserted
in their journals,— Balt. Amer.
TRAGIC DEED.
The National, a Paris paper as Feb. 6rh. con
tains the following extract front it letter (fated
from Angouleme:
Our city has been die theatre of a most
horrid event. A man convicted of having
murdered the husband of a woman whom
he loved, was condemned to hatd labor
for 15 years. The depositions, or tes'i"
mony, of the widow D— consisted of
charges lhe most overwhelming against
him, so that when the President of the
court of assizes came forward from his
seat to pronounce judgment, the murderer
rose with energy, called Heaven to witness
wi ha frightful oath which he pronounced,
and. turning towards the widow of his
victim, cried out, “I am innocent, and you
have been the cause of my condemnation;
but 1 swear before (he G<>d who hears
me, that y«’U shall never die but by my
hand.” The audience shuddered at the
inspired and resolute voice of the con
demned, and the widow, frightened by the
terrible threat fainted away. After this
trial, some time had elapsed, when
unhappy widow, almost reduced to pover
ty by the death of her husband, had sold
what linle property she possessed, and
had established herself alone in trade at
Angouleme, by which she quietly obtain
ed a livelihood. She had, without doubt,
forgotten the imprecations of the murerer,
or if they sometimes offered themselves
to her thoughts, she repressed them with
fear, and trusted herself to providence, <fc
lhe protection of the police, who had,
since the trial, kept an eye upon her. But
some days ago a report was spread in An
gouleme that eight convicts had escaped
from Rochefort, and,hey were pursued.—
The gens d’arroes were called out, or
ders were despatched in all directions. It
was eight o’clock in tho evening—all was
darkness and silence in Angouleme, and
especially in the little street inhabt'ed by
the widow D—. Suddenly the door of the
shop was opened Sp shut. A man advanc
ed to the counter behind which she was
sitting; pensive & alona, & placed himself
immovable before her.-‘VVhat do you want
Sir,’ demanded she coldly.—‘Don’t you
recognize me,” said ha, in a low &, fright
ful voice. The truth burst upon the un
happy woman in all its horror. She wish
ed to scream, but terror enchained all her
faculties; she rushed towards the door,
but he held her back with au invincible
arm, and with an infernal grin showed her
that he had locked her in. An hour af
terwards a neighbor.onentering her shop,
found her lying on the pavement strang
led and dead. ’
The assassin was arrested the next day,
with one of his companions. He made 00
resistance, and voluntarily gave all these
horrible details— 1 * I can return now to
the gallies,” said he coldly to those who
interrogated him, “I am content, I am re
venged.”
1 When is Eogihb butter like Irish chil
,drent When it win tittle Pats,
AUGUSTA.
MONDAY, MAY 27, 1833.
A new Steam Packet is now building at Bhowh
81 Bull's ship yard, New-York to ply between
New-York and Charleston, in conjunction with
the “David Brown,” and will be ready about
the Ist of December —to be commanded by Capt.
Jamks Pmroykr, now of the “David Brown,"
She is of the following dimensions;— Length on
deck, 143 feet—breadth of beam, 22 feet—depth
of hold 10$ feet—9o horse power engine.
FROM NEW-YORK.
The steam-packet David-Bi own,, Capt. Pen
noyer, arrived a( Charleston on Thursday after
uoou last from New-York, which place she left
on the Saturday preceding, at 3 o'clock.
The Charleston Courier acknowledges the re
ceipt of copious files of papers. Sic. and gives tha
following synopsis of the news :
There had been no later European arrival, at
the time theD B. left.
V. S. Bank Stock.— New-York, 17th inst.
160 shares were sold, 113 78, and on the JBth,
464 at 113} a 114.
The Hon. Daniel Webster, arrived at New-
York on the 16th inst. from Boston. It is un
derstood that he was on his way to Ohio, via
Western New York.
The books of subset iption to the Stock of the
New-York Fire Insurance Company, were open
ed on the 17th inst. Between $<500,000 and
600,000 were subscribed, being nearly double the
amount required. Capita! Stock, S3OO 000.
Avery's Trial— Nothing furrier has transpired
relative to the progressnf Mr. Avery's trial ; bu 1
we learn from the Boston Commercial Gazette
that an elaborate report of it. by B. F. Hallett,
E*q. of that city, is already in press, and will be
published with all convenient expedition, after th®
trial is concluded. It will probaly occcupy
one or two hundred pages octavo.
We have been favortd with the follow ing ex
tract of a letter:
“NEW-YORK, APRIL 10 —The purchases of
Cotton upon speculation have raised our prices,
we think, altogether too high for safety. Uplands
are now at I‘Jj for any thing of decent quality.
In conssequeuce of the high prices, no body thinks
of shipping, and Freights are dull, and lower iiir
consequence. Bills on London are looking up
now 8 2-3 to 9 ”
The Militia of (he United Stales, according tn
the returns of 1832, comprised au aggregate of
1 286 813 men. Many <>f the returns ate imper
fect. The actual number is probably not less
than 1 500,000.
The number of muskets manufactured in thtr
United States Armories tn - 1832, was 25.6U0;
Hall’s rifles, 1360; screwdrivers; 17,960; wip
eis 25.560; arm chests. 716; and various other
articles in the line. Expenditures, $105,943 01.
From the Southern Planter.
WHEAT AND FLOUR.
Notwithstanding the heavy rains and
other unpromising appearances, we be
lieve good wheat crops will ba made.—.
We certainly hope so ; and that planters
will be encouraged, by good crops and
good prices to pay a little attention to
good eating. It is now found out, that
Geoigia is a fine wheat country, and that
good flour mills are p>>fiiable establish
ments: so we wish to see no more nor-,
them flour brought into this State, until
cotton gets up to 30 cents a pound I When
that uappeus again, wo shall be willing to
eat northern flour.
Were there a plenty of good flour mills
in oporation, wheat would always find a
ready market, the price would be steady,
and be never leti than a dollar a bushel.
We have often know n it io sell at much
less than a dollar—only because it could
not be so ground as to be fit tu eat.
Two Boston critics are quarrelling a*
bout Fanny Kemblu’s nose. One <»f them
admires the expansion of her nostrils, and
lhe nobility of the feature. He is prob
ably Irving’s gentleman with the fl it nrrsr-,
and like to see others “wreath the lithe
probocis.” The other critic is downright
sulky on the occasion—decries the whole
nose in general, and the nostrils in partic
ular. He “nose" her nose to be a defec
tive nose, by every rule that cau be ap'
plied to it. Ch tries Kemble don’t care
pinch of snuff about the coriti oversy ;■ tlur
►eountit’g of noses without distinction of
partyor c*>lor is a more agreeable employ
ment, and the Tremont continues Io be
crammed even unto causing the ladies* to
faint. Pennsylvanian.
YaFe College.— I’he subscription
which was set on foot by the friends o
this Academical Institution, to relieve it
from its pecuniary responsibilities,
amounts to about $106,000. The lar
gest donors are Israel Munson, Esq. of
Boston; Gen. Van Rensselaer,of Al
bany ; and another gentleman of the same
city whose name is unknown. Their
subscriptions were $5,000 each.
Singular Phenomenon. A friend has
favored us wiik the following extract
from a private journal kept during a soy
age from this country to Madeira, and
thence to Culcuita.
“About midnight we were roused from
our berths and desired to repair on deck.
We did so; and what a scene presented
itself! Each one of us as we stepped up
on deck, stood silent and amazed, appal
led, yet delighted. We were floating up*
on a sea of fire ! The wind was brisk
and the waves high, but each wave kind
led into a liquid and floating conflagration ' K
it sparkled and glowed like tpolten iron;
and as the crest of the waves broke and
fell, it seemed like a shower of tire.—
The sky was palled with clouds, and the
night dark; yet in the reflected glare of
the sea, the highest rope in our tigging
was perceptible. We were awe-stricken.
It seemed, in the silence tearfulness
of the moment, that we were careering io
our lonely way upon an infernal ocean.
As far as the eve could reach the sea pre
sented the same glowing
heaving and flashing, and throwing its
deep red glare for up into the misty dark
air. ft wax a>del, ye* m °st beautiful.—
Mv imagination can conceive nothing of e
qual grandeur, and my den is far unerpai