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king was discovered in this wretched con
dition ; and not all the wisdom of his coun
cillors, could devise any way of soothing his
spirit’s madness. At length, roused to fresh
love and pity to his misfortunes, Catherine
lend her aid ; and with the first tones of her
voice, Eric’s countenance softened into
tranquility ; his eyes gradually lost their
wild expression, and sinking down in ex
haustion, he laid his wearied head on her
shoulder, and soothed by herexpiessions of
tenderness, soon fell into a profound slum
ber.
Chapter VIII.
Happier, happier far than thou,
*****
She that makes the humblest hearth
Lovely but to one on earth !
Not many months after this event, Eric
was made glad by the birth of a son ; a tie
which (round him more closely than ever to
his peasant wife. In his first hours of love’
and delight, he resolved to set aside all the
pride of the nation, by an act, fraught with
great danger to himself—namely, the coro
nation of his beloved Catherine. When
lie communicated his intentions, she shrunk
from his proposal in undissembled fear and
aversion. “ Renounce this dangerous pro
ject,” she entreated, “ which would yield
me no real pleasure, and must create for
me so many enemies. Ido not desire to
be proclaimed Queen; but in this private
sphere will ever continue to love you, hum
bly and devotedly.”
Rut the enamoured monarch would not
listen to her pleadings ; embracing her af
fectionately, lie left the apartment to give
orders for the announcement of the intend
ed coronation, and to command that invita
tions should be despatched to Prince John,
who, at Catherine’s entreaty, had been set
at liberty; as well as to all the nobles of
the kingdom.
This celebration was almost as splendid
as that of his own accession to the throne ;
but although his most influential subjects
moved in the procession, yet no voice of
applause or approval broke from the throng
ing groups ; men whispered suspiciously to
each otter, as they met; noble ladies look
ed scornfully for the appearance of the pea
sant-girl, who was about to become their
Queen and mistress; and when Catherine
advanced, attended by her regalia, and glit
tering in gold and jewels, no one blest her
as she passed, save the two councillors, who
absolutely exulted in the success of their
dark schemes.
On reaching the church, where the arch
bishop, Laurentios Petri, awaited their ar
rival, the crown dropped from his hands, as
he was about to place it on the Queen’s
head; this omen was marked and comment
ed on by the excited public ; and when Cath
erine turned from the altar, there was such
deep dejection visible in her pale and anxi
ous face, that many among those who had
once known and loved her, expressed their
pity in open terms ; and, for herself, she al
most longed to mingle amongst them once
more, rather than return to the coldness and
formality of her palace-life.
Chapter IX.
“Why all this tumult ? Treason, l>y the cross!”
It may be readily imagined that the mo
narch’s late act drew on him a fresh torrent
of disgust and disapproval from his indig
nant subjects. Malcontents every day went
over to the side of his brother John, who,
within his own cartles, was fostering and
maturing a plan, which would result in
Eric’s entire ruin. To prevent any disquiet
from a foreign source, Prince John entered
into a treaty of peace with Denmark, and
engaged so much assistance from that quar
ter, along with the aid readily afforded him
by the numerous friends and relatives of the
murdered Count Sturc, that in a few weeks
he was ready to declare open war.
Eric was still absorbed in his domestic
happiness, and entirely inattentive to the
affairs of his kingdom, when news reached
him of Prince John’s treachery—of the
taking of several of his most important cas
tles, and the increasing progress of the rebel
army. Distrustful of his troops, who were
every day deserting him, he acted on the
defensive; withdrew to his capital, left it to
his general to stay the advance of the ad
verse army, and even looked on in listless
despair, as he saw them at length camping
around the very walls of Stockholm. This,
which wounded him still more, was the de-
Sarture of his sister, who, wearied out by
is many weaknesses, had at length gone
over to join the party of her brother John.
“And have you, too, determined to fur
fake me I” exclaimed the suspicious king,
as Catherine one morning followed him to
the battlements, where he stood gazing in
silent despondency on his brother’s growing
troops.
“My king! my husband !” exclaimed
the devoted wife, with a look of reproach
ful love, “ though heaven itself should aban
don you, yet will Catherine remain faithful.”
Suddenly, nerved at length by his Queen’s
persuasions, the king roused himself to ac
tion : but it was too late. The few remain
ing nobles were not willing to venture their
lives in such an unequal contest, and at their
solicitation, the archbishop absolved them
from the oath of fidelity which bound them
to their King; and taking advantage of the
license thus allot ded them, they opened the
city gates on that very night to the rebel
army.
Eric was quietly employed in his morn
ing devotions in the church, when a message
arrived informing him of this new treache
ry. Imprecations of hate and revenge reach
ed his ear, us several Delecarian troops,
headed by Prince John in person, immedi
ately afterwards advanced up the aisle, and
before the king was aware of their presence,
he was surrounded by a strong guard, and
declared prisoner of state.
Chapter X.
“ It’ I oulJ see him, it were well with me !
• • •
Speak to me!
This once—once more!”
A few days after, and Prince John had
entered into Stockholm, when his first acr
was to enclose Eric in a close vault in the
prison of Orebyhus. Watched over by men
who regarded him with hate and suspicion;
bound hands ami feet in irons ; and depriv
ed of every means of employment—the
young monarch soon sank into a gloomy
and lethargic state. Iti those long days of
weariness, he would sometimes accuse even
Catherine of indifference, atid fancy that
she, too, had yielded to the current which
had set against him. It would have com
forted him to know, with what earnestness
she seized every opportunity for advancing
his cause. In answer to Prince John’s of
fer of one of the Swedish provinces, as an
honorable retreat for herself and son, she
replied that she desired nothing, save to
share the gloomy prison where her husband
was confined ; and after long months of
promises and disappointments, she at length
received the order admitting her to enter
Eric’s prison.
Clad in the peasant garb, which, she had
resumed since the day of her husband’s
dethronement, she took her infant son in
her arms, and set off’ on foot, one wintry
morning, to reach Orebyhus. After a jour
ney of several days, through a country
covered with snow, she reached the prison
on the third evening, half dead with fatigue,
but full of reviving hope as she handed the
order to the jailor granting her admittance.
Alas! a more speedy messenger had in
the meanwhile arrived, with commands of
far different import. Urged on by his in
famous councillors, who suggested that
Catherine is probably tbe bearer of some
plan for his escape, Prince John despatched
a warrant for his immediate death ; anil the
only choice allowed Eric, was to determine
instantly between stifling, bleeding to death,
or poison ; and he had swallowed the latter
only a few moments before his wife’s ap
pearance.
As he feebly folded a paper, which the
attendants permitted him to write, in which
he expressed his devoted love for his wife
and child, and even besought the protection
of his murderer-brother in their behalf, his
arm was sudJenly arrested by a white hand
—a plaintive voice murmured his name, in
lovingjjaccents—and the weeping Catherine
had scarcely folded her arms around his
emaciated form, and whispered all the joy
she felt in their re-union, then, yielding to
the influence of the deadly potion, his fea
tures became frightfully convulsed—his
frame shook with maddening tortures —his
blue eyes opened wildly on the pale and be
wildered face that hung over his—and with
the first feeble glance of recognition, lie
sank quite dead on her faithful bosom.
■ ‘ll IIIMWBWBWMfWWBWBPBMWniIIiBIWWBMMI
MO®©HL L /A M Y □
THE WIFE’S WELCOME
TO IIER REFORMED Ut'SlliND.
Air— Come rest in this bosom.
Come back to lliis bosom,
My heart’s chosen one ;
Since Temp’rance has saved iliee,
Thy wand’rings are done—
Come back to the heart that
Beat ever for thee ;
I’ll rejoice in the hour that
Restor’d thee to me !
They say Love was made for
The Temp’rate and brave ;
And thou must deserve it—
No longer a slave.
I know what thy fault was,
And freely forgive,
For they who forgive shall
Forgiveness receive.
I once was thy Angel,
Ere Temp’rance came,
Now since thou’st repented,
I’ll still be the same !
I’ll stand by thee still,
Though the world may now sneer,
And guard thee, and aid thee,
Till health re-appear!
Stereotyping. —Every body has seen at
the bottom of title papes the words “ stereo
type edition,” but very few except “ the
trade” are acquainted with the ingenious
process. The first idea of casting in metal
plates’ ‘emulated from one William Ged, a
printer of Edinburgh, in 1725, and was so
far successfully practised by him, that he
was engaged by tbe University of Cam
bridge to print bibles and prayer books;
but by tbe jealousy and dishonesty of his
workmen, in committing wilful errors, the
process was considered defective, and the
intention quickly abandoned. About fifty
years afterwards it was received by Tilloch,
and was subsequently adopted by the cele
brated Didot of Paris, ami ultimately brought
to perfection by the late Earl Stanhope. It
must he understood, that stereotype plates
are only adopted for standard works, and
those likely to have a large sale, because
the outlay is considerable, although the con
veniences are very great, inasmuch as a re
print can take place at any time, and any
required number, however small, can be
taken off’ with the greatest facility, and the
expense of recomposition is thus saved.—
We shall describe briefly thecasting of the
plates. The pages of the type are tied up
separately, and the letters being rubbed over
with an oily composition to make the mould
conic away freely. Gypsum (plaister of
Paris) is then poured in a fluid state very
carefully over them. This quickly setting,
the mould is removed, and if the impres
sion is perfect, the edges of tbe cast are
dressed with a knife. The moulds are then
baked in -an oven of settled temperature;
and made by such means dry ami hard.—
The mould is now placed in the casting-box
upon what is called a floating plate , with its
face downwards ; the cover of the casting
box is then screwed down, suspended by a
crane over the pit which contains the mol
ten metal, gradually lowered into it, and
kept steadily there by a lever and weight;
the lid of the box being open at the corners,
the hot metal rushes in, and the nice inter
stices of the mould are filled up. It remains
here about ten minutes, and is then swung
into the cooling trough filled with water.—
The mould is then beaten away by the
wooden mallet from the plate now cast, the
superfluous metal broken off; the back of
the plate is afterwards made of a sufficient
; thickness by means of a lathe (the letters
i standing from its face of a proper height,)
3 <0 ‘S 5* Ji ‘JZ It it U 3 A’ H IL IL A it
the stereotype is carefully examined, any
excrescence picked off', and the process is
complete. The plates are a little longer
(we mean by the margin,) than the pages of
moveable types, and if kept with care will
produce any numbei of impressions, equal
to the ordinary type.
Calomel. —The following extract is from
the lectures of N. Chapman, M. D., Profes
sor of the Institutes and Practice of Medi
cine in the University of Pennsylvania, ‘o
cated in Philadelphia. He thus discourseth
on the use of calomel:
“ Gentlemen—ls you could only see what
I almost daily see in my private practice in
this city, persons from the South in the very
last stages of wretched existence, emaciated
to a skeleton; with both tables of the skull
almost completely perforated in many places
—the nose half gone, with rotten jaws, ul
cerated throats, breaths more pestiferous,
more intolerable than poisonous upas, limbs
racked with the pains of the inquisition,
minds as imbecile as the puling babe, a
grievous burden to themselves and a dis
gusting spectacle to others, you would ex
claim, as I have often done, O ! the lament
able want of science that dictates the abuse
of that noxious drug, calomel, in the South
ern States ! Gentlemen, it is a disgraceful
reproach to the profession of medicine ; it
is quackery, horrid, unwarranted, murder
ous quackery ! What merit do gentlemen
of the South flatter themselves they possess,
by being able to salivate a patient ? Can
not the veriest fool in Christendom salivate,
give calomel ? Rut I ask another question.
Who is it that can stop the career of mercu
ry, at will, after it lias taken the reigns in its
own destructive and ungovernable hands ?
He who, for an ordinary cause, resigns the
fate of his patient to mercury, is a vile ene
my to the sick; and, if lie is tolerably pop
ular, will, in one successful season, have pav
ed the way for the business of life; for lie
has enough to do ever afterwards to stop the
mercurial breach of the constitutions of his
dilapidated patients. He lias thrown him
self in fearful proximity to death, and has
now to fight him at arm’s-length as long as
the patient maintains a miserable existence.”
Agricultural Anecdote. —A knowledge of
the habits of animals is sometimes of great
service even in the salvation of cities.—
Jntnes, in his recent history of the Black
Prince, gives an amusing instance of this in
the defence of Rennes, a town of Brittany,
beseiged by the Duke of Lancaster. In or
der to effect the surrender of the place, the
Duke enforced a strict blockade, which soon
reduced the garrison to great straits ; but he
knew they would hold out to the last extrem
ity, and determined to try a trick of war.—
For this purpose, lie drew off'his soldiers as
if he had left the place, and formed an am
buscade in some hushes behind the town. —
He then caused a number of hogs to he
turned loose in the plain, in the hope that
the starving garrison would rush out for the
prize. But they understood his trick, and
turned it to their own advantage. They
opened one of the sally ports, and hung up
a sow by the lintel. She, of course, made a
great out-cry, and the hogs came rushing up
to the place from whence the noise proceed
ed ; she was then cut down and driven thro’
one of the streets and forced to keep up her
music. The soldiers sprang up from their
ambuscade in order to try anu prevent this
unlooked for termination of their experi
ment; but James says, tbe hogs with that
intuitive perception of tbe way their mas
ters do not wish them to go, which has ever
marked their nature, went rushing tumultu
ously into the town, and afforded the garri
son very seasonable relief.
Cigarsforcver. —We were aware that a
Regalia was a cloud dispcller—a solace to
the weary hearted, hut we never imagined
it could save a man’s life! The following
parapraphs however, place “ the weed” one
rung higher in the ladder of our estimation,
and we mean to make a contract with the
“ Little Divan” for a fresh supply.
The Philadelphia Sentinel states, that as
a M. Johnson, who had just returned ftom
sea, was going home on Saturday evening
last, he was assaulted by a man who de
manded his money. M. J. being too old to
be caught, pulled a large regalia cigat from
his breast pocket, and making a noise with
his mouth like the cocking of a pistol, the
man wheeled about and took to bis heels.
So in Havana, an American gentleman
was stopped by another cigar-smoker at
midnight and asked for a light. The 11a
banero was long in igniting his principc, and
inhaled his breath till the two cigar ends
gleamed fiercely, while by the ruddy light,
each surveyed the other’s countenance. —
“ Pass on,” said the Habanero, “ your cigar
has saved your life —you’re not the man I
took you for.”— Crescent City.
The following recipe may be new to
most housekeepers. It is from an English
paper.
Pickled Eggs. —An industrious farmer’s
wife, residing at Shipton, near Andover,
among a variety ofother pickles which she
annually introduces into herstore-room, pre
serves pickled eggs. The process she uses
in curing them is very simple. When she
has a large stock of eggs on hand she boils
some six or seven dozen till they become
hard. She then divests them of the shell,
and puts them into large jars pouring upon
them scalding vinegar, saturated ginger, gar
lic, whole pepper and alspice. This is an ad
mirable aid to cold meat and is, in the win
ter months, regarded as a perfect farm-huuse
luxury.
A Bore. — The Cincinnati Microscope
tells the following good story ; “One of those
gentry who procure subscribers to works in
advance of their publication, called on a
gentleman not long since living in Main
street. After making bis business known,
the gentleman not wishing the article, and
not in tune to be bored, excused himself for
a moment, as he had particular business to
attend to. He went out and after three
hours’ absence returned and found the fel
low sitting just where he left him, and in
j good order to introduce to his special notice,
the beauties of his contemplated wot k. The
! gentleman fainted.
Silence. —There are few things more con
ducive to the health of the mind than occa
sional solitude and silence. If the con
science be unsullied, silence will be a season
of enjoyment; if the recollection of crime
weigh on the mind, in silence resolutions of
amendment are more usually formed, than
amid the tumult and confusion of the world.
The man who habituates himself to spend
an hour, every day, in silence and seclusion,
can scarcely become depraved; he who
never withdraws himself from the busy
throng of selfish men can hardly be other
wise. l'he army that is always marching
cannot act with energy in case of emergen
cy ; and the mind that never halts and repo
ses from the labor of artificial excitement,
will be but ill qualified to grapple with vio
lent temptation. Silence is to the mind
what the bottom of a river is to a swimmer;
when lie can rest his feet upon the solid
ground, he can look around him and see
where he is. He can mark out his course,
and start anew. To the religious man, si
lence is in the throne of Deity. For when
the world is shut out —when the passions
are stilled, and the wandering thoughts are
curbed, his soul is in the presence ofhis Ma
ker. To tjiose who have never habituated
themselves to silent reflection, these things
may sound like a dull sermon on morality.
Those who have tried the experiment will
confess that the soul is the most truly alive,
when the animal man is restrained, and the
redundancy of animal thoughts is pruned.
The stiller a clock stands, the better time it
will keep ; and an hour-glass runs the faster,
the less it is disturbed.
A Mother. —The following fine passage,
as true as it is beautiful, is from James’ nov
el The Gypsey : “ Round the idea of one’s
mother, the mind of man clings with a fond
affection. It is the first thought stamped
upon our infant heart, when yet soft and
capable of receiving the most profound im
pressions, and all the after feelings of the
world are more or less light in comparison.
I do not know that even in our old age we
do not look hack to that feeling as the sweet
est we have through life. Our passions and
our wilfu!ness may lead us far from the ob
ject of our filial love ; we may learn even
to pain her heart, to oppose her wishes, to
violate her commands; we may become
wild, headstrong and angry at her counsels
or opposition ; but when death has stilled
her monitory voice, and nothing but calm
memory remains to re-capitulate her good
deeds, affection, like a flower beaten to the
ground by a past storm, raises up her head
and smiles amidst her tears. Round that
idea, as vve have said, the mind clings with
fond affection ; and even when the earlier
period of our loss forces memory to be si
lent, fancy takes tlie place of remembiance,
and twines the image of our dead parent
with a garland of graces, and beauties, and
virtues, which we doubt not that she pos
sessed.
Names of the Days of the Week. —The
remains of the religion ofthe ancient people
of Great Britian are seen in the names of
the days of the week. These people were
Scandinavians, who carried into Britian,
with their arms, their deities and their reli
gious rites. The Anglo-Saxon superstition
came from their progenitors, the Dains and
Norwegians, and the mythology was once
the established religion of Great Britain.
The names of the week were called after
deities of this northern worship. Sunday is
the day of the sun ; Monday the day of the
moon ; Tuesday, of Teucer, the god of hun
ting and archcry; Wednesday, the day of
Woden, the god of war ; Thursday, the
day of Thor, the god of thunder; Friday,
the day of Friga, the goddess of love and
marriage; Saturday, the day of Satur, tliegod
of fruits.
American Pins. —The New York Tribune
says that among the novel products of
American skill and industry exhibited at the
Fair of the American Institute, are Ameri
can pins, made by the Howe Manufacturing
Company, Birmingham, Connecticut. They
are all the usual sizes, but differ from the
imported pin mainly in this, that they are
solid-headed—that is, the pin and head are
one and indivisible. The pins are twice the
stiffness of the English, and the point of
exceeding fineness, owing to improvements
in the method of manufacturing. They
are of admirable quality and finish, and are
afforded cheaper than pins ever have been
before—[three hundred for five cents.] The
establishment now turns out over one mil
lion pins per day, and is prepared to supply
promptly the whole Union. The duty on
this article was raised from twenty to thirty
per cent, by the new tariff, and made speci
fic, and the company have since reduced the
price of pins in the market five cents per
pack. So much for protection to home in
dustry.
Lard Oil Business. —We incidentally
noticed yesterday, says the Cincinnati Re
publican of the 14th, a shipment of lard oil
for New Orleans. We have since learned
it was purchased here at Reeder’s manufac
tory, and is intended for the Mexican mar
ket. This cheap and excellent Cincinnati
article is thus working its way on all parts
of the globe. We have lately tried some
of Mr. Reeder’s manufacture, and can bear
testimony to its excellence.
On inquiry, vve are glad to learn that all
three of the lard oil manufactories in this
city are full of business, and have as much
as they can do to answer orders. They
manufacture now, in the aggregate, upwnrds
of 1,000 gallons per day, and give employ
ment to some thirty hands, besides the in
direct benefit to be derived by the cooper,
tinman, &c. Since the passage of the Tar
iff bill, Mr. Lee has received an order from
one of the Northern woolen manufactories
for 6,000 gallons, to be delivered in Boston,
at the rate of 500 gallons per month.
When we see worth clothed in poverty
I respected and honored, and scoundrelism
I clothed in scarlet and fine gold despised,
| vve shall say the woi Id is honest. A great
; change must take place before vve make
the impot taut announcement.
Did you ever see a woman with black eyes
! who did not think sho was a beauty ?
Singular Courtship. —ln the Ukrain,
when a young woman falls in love with a
man, she is not the least ashamed to go to
his father’s house, and reveal her passion in
the most tender and pathetic mariner, and
to promise the most submissive obedience,
if he will accept her for a wife. Should
the insensible swain pretend any excuse,
she tells him that she is resolved not to quit
the house till he gives his consent; and ac
cordingly, taking up her lodging, remains
till in the end he either consents, however
unwillingly, to be wooed, or betakes him
self to flight.
Aristocracy. —lt is related of General Foy,
a distinguished French orator, that on one
occasion, as he was entering with much fer
vor into a political discussion in the Cham
ber, and had just pronounced the word Ar
istocracy, a voice from the Ministerial side
asked him for a definition of it. “ Aristocra
cy,” answered lie, at once and calmly, “ Aris
toracy,\n the nineteenh century, is the league,
coalition, of those who wish to consume
without working, occupy all public places,
without being competent fill them ; seize
upon all honors without meriting them—
that is Aristocracy.”
Good. —A young lady in Memphis, Ten
nessee, criticising gentlemen’s modes of
dress and fashions, says, mustaches are nev
er worn by men of ordinary sense. Fop
pish fellows alone carry canes. Rings,
chains and breast pins of gold, never yet cap
tivated a woman of common intelect. Gen
tlemen who exhibit on their hair evidence
of much labor at the toilet, are not held in
high estimation by the reflecting portion of
the female sex.” That’s a sensible girl.—
Wonder if she’ssingle, and under noengage
ment?— Crescent City.
Recovery of $15,000 worth of Lares. —
Officers Releya and Colvin of New York,
on Friday last, recovered possession, in
that city, of several trunks filled with rich
and costly laces, silks, gloves, hosiery, Sec.,
valued at from $15,000 to $20,000. The
goods are supposed to have been stolen from
New Orleans, or one of our southern cities.
The goods contain private marks of the
owner, and can therefore be identified.
A true test. —Nothing, says a late writer,
sets so wide a mark between a vulgar and
noble soul as the reverential love of woman
hood. A man who is always sneering at
woman is generally a coarse profligate or a
bigot.— Boston Post.
The Croton Aqueduct. —The New York
Tribune gives the length of the Aqueduct
as 41 miles ; capacity of the Distributing
Reservoir 21,000,000 gallons; capacity of
the Receiving Reservoir 150,000,000, gal
lons ; available capacity of the Croton
Lake Reservoir 500,000,000 gallons. Dis
charge in 24 hours 24,000,000 gallons;
width of Aqueduct tube 7 feet 5 inches;
depth 6 feet G inches, descent per mile 13J
inches.
Slander. —Against slander there is no de
fence. Hell cannot boast so foul a fiend nor
man deplore so fell a foe. It stabs with a
word, writh a nod, with a shrug, with a look,
with a smile. It is the pestilence walking in
darkness, spreading contagion far and wide,
which the most weary traveler cannot avoid.
It is the heart-searching dagger of the assas
sin. It is the poisoned arrow whose wound is
incurable. It is as mortal as the sting of the
deadly arrow : murder is its employment,
innocence its prey, and ruin its sport.
Elegant Extract. —“ How contemptible
and yet how full of misery must be the life
of him who lias not power to suspend his
soul above tbe little storms which make the
bodily life so full of insignificant wretched
ness ! The true man suffers, with bis body,
as other animals—but he enjoys with his
mind. A flash of sun light; the green shad
ow of sun set fields—the many colored smile
ofthe melancholy autumn ; a sweet tone of
childhood’s innocence ; the casual glance of
friendship or affection ; is enough to unlock
for him the treasures of the universe, and
fill him with sweet and happy thoughts.”—
A T . Y. Aurora.
For the “Southern Miscellany.”
LETTER FROM MAJOR JONES.
NO. VII.
Pined fie, October 25th, 1542.
To Mr. Tiiomfson :
Dear Sir —l ariv here all safe as a crate
o’ warrented crockery last nite, bout this
time. My cold’s got a good deal better
sense I left Madisen, and cording topromis,
I have tuck up my pen to give you a account
of my trip to your town.
As I told you, 1 left tny horse at Warrin
ton and tuck the cars at Camack- for Madi
sen. It was bout ’leven o’clock fore the
dratted thing cum along, and when it got
thar it made sich abominable blowin and
snortin that I was morel) half a mind not to
venter in no sich outlandish sort of convey
ance. I’d heart) a grate deal bout steem in
gins, but if a Semrnynoles is any uglier, or
frightfuller, than they is, I dont wonder no
body wants to tack ’em. Why sich other
cog-weels, crunks and conflutcments, I nev
er did see—and then tftey’s so spiteful, and
makes the fire fly so. I couldn’t help feelin
sort o’ skeered of it all the time, and I would
n’t been that feller what rid on top of the
cussed critter, anil fed and watered it, not
for no considerashun. I was lookin round
it a little, to try to git the hang of it, when
the feller jest tctched one of the fixins, and
feugh-h-h! it went rite in my ear and like
to blmvd my branes out with hot steem.—
“ My Lord !” says I, “ mister, what made
it do that ?” “ Oh, it was jest blowin its
nose,” says he, and he tuck hold of a noth
er thins: and the infurnel critter set up a yell
like a panther with a grind-stone on his tale.
Thunderation, how the steem did fly ! enuff’
to blow all creashut) to Ballyhack. “ All
aboard,” says the man, the bell tapped, and
in bout aminitevery body was stowed away
ar ,d waitin. Chung, went sumthin, and a
way I goes rite over the back of the seat—
it jerked once or twice more, and then it
begin to go. Chow, chow, chow—chew
chew, chew—che, cbe, chit-tu chit-tu-fit-te
fit-te, fit, fit, fit, che)-r-r-r-r! and the whole
bilin of us was gwine a long with a purfect
whiz ; and the way the fire flew was mirac
elus, grate, big sparks now and then dodgj n
all round a feller’s face like a yaller-jacket
and then drappin rite in his busum. F 0 r
sum time it would tuck three men to watch
the sparks off one. and they couldn’t. Well
we went liummin along jest like iled thun
der, makin more noise nor a dozen cotton
gins all gwine at once, only stoppin now and
then to pile on litewood and fill up the bilers
and todiapa feller here and thar on the
rode. They was the sleepyest set of fokes
aboard I ever did see. Thar they was, all
scattered about in the seats, heads and heels
together; heie a pair o’ boots stickin rite
strate upwards, and thar a feller’s face, open
ed wide enuff to svvaller a cimblin—sum of
’em snotin like a dinner-horn. The effect
was unresist able, and tbe first thing I knowd
I didn’t know any thing in pertickler, cept
that my eyes felt monstrous gritty when I
tried to open ’em wide “ Look here •
master—master!” “Hello!” savs I, “Ji m ’
what’s the matter?” “I isn’t Jim, master ”
says the nigger feller what was shakin me
by the coller ; “ you better go to the Hotel,
the passengers is all gone long go.” I soon
seed how it was, and not havin no baggage
I tuck the road tbe feller pinted to, and went
long down a hill whar I like to fell over lots
o’ cotton bags, till I come to a place whar
thar was more waggons than I could count
in a hour. It was sodark I couldn’t make out
nothin but waggons and a lot of fellers sit
tin round a fire. 1 Links I, Madisen aint
sich a ding grate city as I thought it was af
ter all; and as I felt sort o’ chilly, I jined
the fellers round the fire.
“ Whars the hotel ?” says I.
“ Thar aint no hotel here,” says one fel
ler, what was singin,
“ Drive my waggon long the rode ;
Sorry team and a heavy load.”
“ W on’t you take somethin ?” says he
puttin a old junk bottle of rum, that smelled
strong enuft of inions to knock a man down,
rite under my nose fore I knowd what he
was bout.
“No, 1 thank you,” says I, “ I’s a Wash
ingtonian.”
“Who’s they?” says he; “sum of yer
and n Flurnoy preachers, I spose?”
” No,” says I, “ thoy’s revolutioners.”
“ Revolutioneis !” says he, “ why iny fa
ther was a revolutioner, and fit agin the Brit
ish at King’s Mounting, and help’d to lick
tyranny out of the country.”
“b> and all tyrants,” says I, “and hurra
for the revolutioners.”
“ Come, take sumthin,” says he, and pint
ed the bottle at my nose again.
“No,” says I, “I’m a revolutioner, and
go agin King Alkohol tooth and toenail.”
“ King who?” says he.
“ King Rum,” says I ; “ that very tyrant
that’s got you by the guzzle now, and lie’ll
have you choked down on yer knees to him
fore a half hour, if you dont revolutionize on
him and quit him.”
The feller stopped and looked rite down
in the fire—then at me—then at the bottle,
and he tuck a nolher look at the fire.
“ That’s a fact,” says he, “ it’s had me on
my back afore to-night; but 1 cant—yes I
kin—here goes, mister—d—n all tyrants —
I’m a revolutioner, a Washington revolution
er, for ever!” and with that he tlirowd the
bottle of rum smack in the middle of the fire,
and it blazed up blue and yaller like a hell
broth, as it is.
“Give me yer hand, mister,” says I, “I
dont want no better proof of yer manhood
than that: stick to it like a true Washington
revolutioner.”
“ Stick to it, mister ?” says he; “ why I
never broke my word when I was sober in
my life, and now I must do it afore I kin git
drunk. Stick to it? I’ve been wantin to
revolutionize long ago, and now I’ve done
it, and I’ll never knock under as long as I
live !” and he shuck my hand, and a tear
shined in the fire-light. I dont bleive that
waggoner ’ll ever git stalled on a good rode
as long as lie lives.
Well, arter a while, fore it was clear light,
1 started for to find the town.
“ Good mornin,” says one feller, comin
out from mong the waggons with a quarsort
of gimlet and sum tags of cotton in his hand.
“ Would you like a bid for your cotton this
mornin?”
“ I don’t keer,” says I, “ I’m always wil
lin for a good trade.”
“ Whar is it ?” says he, and fore I had
time to answer another feller slapped me on
the shoulder on tother side,
“Is it prime now, neighbor?” says he;
“ I’ll give you the top o’ the market. Is it
prime now, eh ?”
“ Never mind,” says the first, “ it’s as
good as sold.”
“ Beg pardon,” says the other, “ I wont
interrupt.”
“ Whar is it ?” says the first, puttin his
arm in mine, and walkin in mong the wag
gons ; “ square or round bales, eh ?”
“Stop, stop, mister,” says I, “you’re mis
taken in the man ; you .”
“ Oh, let’s have the sample, and we’ll talk
bout the price ; is this it ?” and in goes his
gimlet, “ I always sample from both end 9,”
says he.
“ But stop, mister,” says I, “ I han’t got
no cotton here; my cotton ’s in Pineville,
and aint moreu half ginned out yet. I han’t
got no
“ Whar ?” says he.
“ Way down in Pineville, in .”
“ D—n Pineville, and—beg pardon—tho’t
you was in the markit,” and fore I could ax
him bout Madisen or you, he was half a do
zen waggons off', borein his gimlet in a noth
er bag of cotton.
The next feller I met was rite at me to
buy my cotton; but 1 tuck him a side and
splained things confidentally to him fore he
went so fur ?”
“Is this Madisen,” says I, “ whar the
Southern Miscellany’s printed ?”
“Oh, no,” says lie, “this is Beaver Tail.”
“Beaver Tail!” says I; “why I never
hearn o’ that place afore,” and I jest begin
to bile up a little. “I tuck my passage for
Madisen,” says I, “ and paid the munny,
and they’re gone and drapped me in Beaver
Tail! Now that’s a way to do bisness ;
that's the way travellers is tuck in, by these
corperashuus. If they dont fix it all to my