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VOLUME I. j BY C, R. IIANLEITER. [P©[ET^Y a “ Much yet remains unsung.” 1 HE I ORCE OF LOVE. And said I lhat my limbs were old ; And said I that my blood was cold, And dial my kindly fire was fled. And my poor wither’d heart was dead, And that I might not sing of love? I tow could 1 to the dearest theme That ever warm'd a minstrel's dream, So foul, so false, a recreant prove ! How could I name love's very name. Nor wake my heart to notes of flame! In peace, Love tunes the shepherd’s reed ; In war, he mounts the warrior’s steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen i In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above; For love is heaven, and heaven is love. ITALIia THE TWO PIRATES. BY EMMA V. E MDI'BV. There is perhaps no crime which owes so much to the embellishment of‘ imagination as the atrocious one of‘piracy. The time, place and circumstance—the awful daring of men who on the wide waste of waters, alone, as it were, before the face of heaven, imbrue their hands in the blood of their fel low-beings—the utter helplessness of their imprisoned victims, all combine to give in terest to the details of this horrible enormi ty- . , Early in the spring of 18— two persons were committed to prison in Huston charg ed with this crime, and crowds of people flocked to see them, as they would have gone to a menagerie—to gaze in safety on strange and ferocious animals. Among the hundreds who visited them from mere curi osity, was one who was actuated by a high er motive. Arthur Wilson had early been a student of human nature, hut he had lived long enough to find that man, the creature of every-day life, was very unlike the being described in the pages of philosophy; and closing his ponderous tomes, he now walked forth with the world to pursue his re searches. His profession afforded him am ple scope for seeing “ Man as he is, the secret spirit free and lie soon became ns much distinguished for his skill in scrutinizing the motives and divining the springs of human action, as for his eloquence and legal attainments. The court, willing to wive the prisoners every chance of proving their innocence, had appointed Mr. Wilson counsel for the accused, and he was hastening to the prison to learn from their own lips some circum stanceson which to found a defence,when he was told that one of them had turned state’s evidence. As lie entered the cell to take his deposition, he could scarcely conceal his astonishment. There was nothing of the free bearing, the proudly courageous de meanor which Wilson had unconsciously associated with his idea of a man familiar with blood and death. A short thick set fi gure, with hands and feet so enormous as almost to seem deformed, smali grey eyes, that glared like those of a tiger, and a coun tenance of mean ferocity—such was the persoifai appearance of the notorious An tonio Salviada. His deposition stated that, in the April of 18—, (three years previous,) himself and five others had shipped from Havana in the brig Maria of NevvYork, on hoard of which were six passengers, among whom were two women and a child about two years old. After they had been out at sea four days, they rose upon the crew at midnight, mur dered the captain, mate and passengers, and compelled the remainder of the crew to work the ship, while they busied themselves in ransacking the cargo. When they ap proached Guadaloupe, their unfortunate messmates were stabbed and thrown into the sea, to avoid the danger of discovery; finally they scuttled the ship one dark night, and went ashore in the long boat. After dividing the specie found in the vessel, amounting to about forty thousand dollars, they were about separating themselves, when they accidentally encountered an old companion in wickedness, with whom they obtained lodgings until they could arrange their schemes. The result of their plans was that a small, swift-sailing brig was pro cured, with which they had ever since been scouring tfce seas, until a shipwreck, which E roved fatal to most of his comrades, had rought him under the power of the laws he had offended. Such was the amount of his testimony. Os his life previously to the seizure of the brig Maria, he said nothing; the destruction of that ship was the first criminal charge brought against him, and he was too wary to commit himself by any unnecessary confession. He related his story with the utmost coolness; not the least trace of emotion was visible in his countenance as he minutely described the circumstances just mentioned, and Wilson left him, secretly regretting that the law would now be compelled to pardon one whom justice would so promptly have con demned. But if such were his feelings when quit- & JFaiuUg JLetosjmuer: ©rtootc* to Hiterature, agriculture, iWecfwtuica, iEtmcatiou, jForelflit auU domestic EwteUlfieuce, fcr. ting the guilty Salviada, how much was that regret increased, when he entered the ad joining cell, and gazed upon its unhappy in mate. His age could scarcely have exceed ed twenty years ; his figure was so slender and boyish, as to give an idea of extreme delicacy of constitution ; his complexion, though embrowned by exposure, was evi dently of almost feminine transparency; his eyes were of that clear blue so lare’ly seen except in early childhood, and the short curls of his bright hair clustered upon his forehead as gracefully as if a mother’s hand had just threaded their silken mazes. Mr. Wilson involuntarily paused as he looked upon the delicate beauty of the face, which he had expected to see characterized by the same dark passions that had so fearfully im pressed themselves in the countenance of the elder pirate. He was recalled to him self by the low, mellow voice of the crimi nal. “ You would speak with me, sir,” said he, somewhat hastily ; “ let me request you to he brief, my hours are now too precious to be wasted on idle visiters.” The kind heart of the lawyer could well understand the feelings which prompted such impatience of intrusion, and with the utmost gentleness lie informed the prisoner that to him had been intrusted his defence. He besought the youth to state explicitly every extenuating circumstance, and to give him some facts on which to found his argu ment for an acquittal. “ You have the testimony of Antonio Salviada, sir,” was his reply ; “ let that suf fice—what he tells you is doubtless true.” “ Ami have you nothing to urge in your own defence 1” “ Nothing!” In vain Mr. Wilson urged him to relate his own account of their piratical cruise. “ 1 thank you, sir,” said he, “ for the in terest you appear to take in such a wretch as I am, but it is of no avail; life is a bur den which I would willingly shake off'. I was on board the ship at the time of the mutiny ; I saw the captaii: and mate ihtown overboard, and though my hand aided not in the deed, yet I stood among the murder ers'’ 1 his was all that could be learned from the unhappy boy, and the kind hearted law yer was obliged to leave him without ob taining the least grounds for his defence. But the feelings of Mr. Wilson were too strongly interested, to allow of his resting satisfied without making another attempt to influence the wayward spirit of the young pirate. Every day he visited him, and eve ry interview tended to increase the interest he already felt. He found the prisoner re markably intelligent, and more than usually well-informed. His education appeared to have been an irregular one, for he was little skilled in the learning of the schools, hut there was an originality in his lemarks, and a refinement in his sentiments, which struck Mr. Wilson with astonishment. The kindness of the good lawyer was not without its influence upon the criminal, and when the day of trial drew near, he seem ed more disposed to confideto him his whole story, as if unwilling to face a frowning world without having secured at least one friend. On the right before the trial he re lated the following particulars : “ In order to give you a correct view of the singular circumstances in which I have been placed, I must begin with the history of my mother. When but three years of age she was placed at one of the first boaid rng-surwols in Nsw York by a rough-look’ ing sailor, who stated that he had been com missioned by her father to leave her in the charge of the precepress, with strict injunc tions to give her the best education possi ble. A bag containing five hundred dollars, in silver, was left as an earnest that all ex penses would be duly paid, hut the sailor refused to give any explanation respecting her family, merely stating her name to he Mary O’Neill. Every year a sum of rneney sufficient to defray all expenditures was sent to the governess, but no message, no letter from bet father ever accompanied it, and she remained at school until she had attain ed her eighteenth year, without having known any other connections than her teach ers and schoolmates. At length, the same sailor who had placed her at school, came to take her to her father. She could not disguise the reluctance with which she left the friends of her youth, to seek a relative of whom she retained no recollection, and whose name even she bad never beard.— Judge then of her horror when, after they had set out upon their journey, her com panion informed her that in him she beheld her father. It was even so : a coarse Irish sailor, of vulgar speech and worse than vul gar habits, was the parent of the beautiful, the refined, the high-educated girl. Who her mother was she never learned ; a feel ing of tenderness, such as no other object had ever awakened, induced her father to secure to her the benefits of education, and, once provided for, he allowed her to remain in the enjoyment of the advantages, until it suited his conscience to demand her return. “ Had this been all, she might have learn ed to bear with patience the brutality of a parent, but when he took her to his home —a miserable tavern in Havana, the com mon resort of smugglers and sailors of the lowest order—her situation became intoler able. She learned too soon her father’s motive in bringing her to such a home.— Among the ruffians who frequented the MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JANUARY 28, 1843. house, was one whose horrible countenance she well remembered to have seen two years before, when he came as the messen ger from her father, to deposite in her hands the usual bag of silver. Brutal in manners and disgusting in person, he was now ren dered doubly hateful to her by the coarse attentions which he constantly paid her.— W hat then were her feelings, when she overheard a conversation between him and her father, from which she learned that the admiration with which she had inspired him when at school had prompted her father to recall her, and that she was actually about to be sold to the wretch in payment of a large debt which her father had not the means of discharging! In vain she wept, and implored his compassion; the love of gold was stronger than parental affection. A priest in the pay of the gang of villains performed the ceremony, and the unhappy girl awoke from a deep swoon to find her self the wife of a smuggler and pirate.— Dearly did her father pay for his cruelty. Avery few months after this ill-omened marriage, he was stabbed by his son-in-law in a fit of passion, and his wretched daugh ter was immediately hurried on board a ves sel, which seemed only waiting the orders of her husband. r ilie scenes of horror which she witnessed there she never could describe—the very recollection seemed to agonize her. It was there, sir—amid those sights of terror—on board a ship whose bold was stored with the wealth of murder ed men—whose deck was stained with the life-blood of innocent victims—it was there that I was born. You start—is it so very strange that a pirate ship should be the birthplace of a pirate ? “ For two years after my birth my moth er was kept a close prisoner in this floating bell. The wretch knew her aversion for him, and be feared to trust her an instant from his sight. Theie was one human feel ing still left within his bosom, and that was parental affection. His love for me was a deep, intense passion, and my poor mother was as much terrified by the almost feroci ous affection for us, as by his ruthlessness to oihers. My health at length appeared to sufferfrom confinement in a close and crowd ed vessel, and lie was compelled to allow my mother to take lodgings on shore fora short period. Not daring to remain with her, be left us in the charge of one of his most trusty officers. But my mother had determined to escape, and to a determined mind all things are practicable. “When he next ventured to approach the coast, his wife and son had fled from him for ever. “ All these circumstances I have frequent ly heard my mother relate, but she careful ly concealed from me the name of my fath er. Even to this day I nm as ignorant of his name as of his person. “ But let me begin my own narration.— All my early recollections are unhappy ones. A small and scantily-furnished apartment, whose single casement offered slight resis tance to the wind and rain, was the abode of my poor mother and her worse than fath erless boy. The sale of the few jewels which she was able to conceal about her person when she escaped from her husband, was all she could rely upon for subsistence, and this little store she endeavored to aug ment by disposing of various kinds of orna mental needle-work, the only resource with which her elegant and superficial education had provided her. Secluded from all sight, trembling if she hut fancied a strangei’s glance fixed on her for an instant; toiling day and night at the easel or the embroide ry-frame, to procure a miserable pittance for herself and child—thus did she pass four miserable, tedious years. Ob, sir, you who are surrounded by friends and relatives of all degrees of consanguinity, cannot know how strong are the ties which bind together the hearts of a lonely mother and her only son. The love which, under happier cir cumstances, would spend itself in many channels, is then condensed in one, and the course of such affection, however impeded by :he evils of life, can never cease to flow till the heurts of both have ceased to bent.” He paused, overpowered by his feelings. “ My mother ! my poor mother !” he at length exclaimed, “ how will she bear these dreadful tidings !” then, as if ashamed of his emotion, he continued : “We lived, as I have said, about four yeats in this state of indigence and misery, when an unexpected friend appeared to aid us. A lady, for whom my mother had made many articles of fan cy work, attracted by the elegance of her person and manners, had frequently endea vored to win her confidence, until at length the voice of kindness overcome my mother’s fear of discovery, and she ielated to her new friend her singular story. Mrs. was a woman of heart and mind ; she pos sessed, too, that which in this bank-note world is much more important—wealth.— My mother was too r.oble-minded to be de- Cendent on the charity of any one; but Irp. ’s exertions procured her a situa tion in a large boarding-school, with a sala ry quite sufficient for our moderate wants. ; 1 was placed in a day-school in the neigh borhood, and an arrangement was made, which allowed me still to be my mother’s companion after the hours allotted for our several duties. “ Let me now explain to you the peculi arities of my character. My father was a man of almost terrific courage ; my mother hod shown a spirit equal to the most trying emergencies, and yet I—their only child— I was born a coward ! a weak, timid, nervous creature, unfit to face the lightest blast of fortune. Philosophers may prate as they will about the impartiality of nature. It is false—to one she gives the noblest talents, to another a mind but one degree above the brute; on one she bestows the moral cour age, which elevates him to the highest rank in creation, while she sends another inlo the world ‘ but half made up ;’ a weak, drivel ling creature, fit only to drudge his life away and he forgotten. Such a step-dame has she been to me. I was born a coward —I have lived a coward—and cowardice, not guilt, has brought me to a felon’s death.” He ground his teeth till the blood foamed from his lips as he spoke. “I forget myself,” he at length resumed, “let me briefly finish my story. When I was about fourteen years of age, the hus band of my mother’s friend, Mrs. , of fered to send me to sea in one of his own ships. You may easily imagine how un willing my mother waste devote me to such a life, hut she had no alternative. There seemed to be no choice between this and a fife pf dependent idleness, and she finally consented to let me go, only stipulating that I should never sail to the West Indies. Her fear lest I might accidentally encounter my father, was the cause of this restriction, and the knowledge of her motive did not tend to diminish my reluctance to the perilous life of a sailor. Never shall I forget the misery of the night on which I first learned my future destiny. All the horrors that ev er appeared before the vision of a ship wrecked mariner, were conjured up by my terrified imagination. Shame, and the fear of distresting my mother, compelled me to suppress my feelings when in her presence, but no sooner did I find myself alone, in the darkness and solitude of night, than my very soul writhed in an agony of terror. “At length the appointed day arrived, and I went upon my first voyage. Even now, when my nerves have been strengthen ed or perhaps benumbed by sights of hor ror such as few have seen, I cannot think of my mental sufferings at that time with out a shudder. Everything was fraught with horror for me. My very flesh would quiver when I heard the call which sum moned me to my night-watch on deck. In calm weather, the monotonous dashing of the heavy waves, the phosphoric glitter of the dark waters, the dim and changing sha dows amid the shrouds, all were to me ob jects of alarm. But when the spirit of the tempest was abroad—when the lushing winds battled with the upheaved waves— when the lightning and thunder mingled with the elemental strife, until nature her self seemed about to perish by the warfare of her children—then my very soul seemed crushed by the weight of its fears. Many a time, when the bold-hearted boy who was my companion in the ship would shout in defiance of the storm, and bound up the rigging with a merryjest and a ringing laugh, have 1 buried my head between my knees, while my bands clung to the neatest sup port with a tenacity which forced the blood from beneath my nails. Contempt, ridicule, punishment, all were tried in order to con quer my timidity, hut all were equally vain. Alas ! did I not owe my weakness to the terrors which surrounded my mother, when in infancy I drew the nutriment of life from her bosom 1 Was it not the sin of the fath er thus visited upon his child ? “'l ime passed on —I was now seventeen years of age, and two voyages to sea had somewhat diminished my terrors, when I encountered new perils which were destin ed to destroy me. I embarked with the same captain upon my third voyage. The venture with which he had been intrusted not having met with its expected success, lie determined, upon his own responsibility, to touch at Havana, in order to repair, if possible, the losses which he as well as his employers must otherwise sustain. This was dreadful tidings to me, and with the fear of meeting my pirate father, foremost in my thoughts, I found myself in sight of Havana. Here we were more successful, ami after taking in a valuable cargo, and shipping some few hands to take the place of those we left sick in Havana, we sailed out of the port. “ There was one among our new mess mates whom, from the first instant I beheld him, I regarded with peculiar aversion.— Need I say that man was Antonio Salviada! The day that we weighed anchor I had ob served him whispering with our Havana sailors, and. though utterly ignorant of his history, I could not help regarding him with such instinctive dread as a child feels while looking on a venomous reptile, even when it knows not the creaturo’s noxious nature. “Our passengers were an American gen tleman with his wife and n child about two years old, two elderly Spaniards and an Englishman, an invalid, with his only daugh ter. Never can I forget that noble crea ture's appearance—her full black eye—her raven hair, patted upon her proud forehead —her stately figure. If ever woman was gifted with queenly, goddess-like beauty, it was Elinor Nelson ; yet glorious as she was, she was far less feminine than her compan ion, the gentle wife and mother. Till then, I had scarcely looked upon a woman, and little did the ladies think, when they sal to gether on deck, enjoying the novelty of a sea view, with what strange and fervent feelings the poor sailor boy regarded them. To watch the mother, as she bent over her ; little boy in all the graceful tenderness of maternal affection, or to gaze awestruck up | on the haughty beauty of theyoung Elinor, 1 as she pared the deck with her invalid fath er, waste me happiness. They noticed me too—my youthful appearance, and, perhaps, gentle manner, (for I could not be the rude sailor when in their presence,) and twice the soft tones of the mother’s voice sunk into my heart, as she thanked me for some little kindness shown to her hoy. Would to heav en I had died ere I had seen their faces! “ VVe had been out at sea five days, when I perceived some stir among our new hands which seemed to manifest evil intentions. 1 discovered Antonio examining his cutlass, and in the course of the day 1 found two or tliiee of the men at the grindstone, secretly sharpening their long Spanish knives. But my cursed cowardice forbade me to give the alarm to our captain, for I knew he would order them put in irons, and that, as soon as they were freed, they would sheath their weapons in my body. I contended myself,therefore, with thinking that I would watch their motions, and be on the alert to prevent their treachery. It was too late ; that very night the crime was perpetrated. Antonio had the mid-watch, the captain was sleeping soundly in his berth, and I had just sunk into an unquiet slumber, when we were aroused by an unusual hustle in the ship. Half-dressed the captain rushed on deck, and was met by a sabre-cut across the head, which stretched him senseless at Sal viada’s feet. The cabin was immediately closed upon the passengers, while the muti neers mastered the crew, and so well had they arranged their plans, that in less than ten minutes they were in possession of the ship. Antonio had seized me in his power ful grasp as I stumbled up the companion way. “‘Young man,’ he whispered, ‘ stir not, and you are safe—you saw enough this morning to mar our plot, had you been so minded; you did not betray it, therefore you are one iif us. Be silent, and* stand there,’ pointing as lie spoke to the knot of villains who stood waiting his commands. “ Will it he believed ? I obeyed him— mechanically, it is true, for I was stupified with terror —a cutlass was put into my hands, and, like a statue, I stood among the pirates. How did my soul sink as I wit nessed the horrid butchery lhat ensued.— One by one the sailors were dragged for ward, stabbed and flung overboard. The mate shared Ihe same fate, and, last of all, the captain. As he was forced ulong, bound and bleeding, he espied me. “‘Edward! Edward!’ he cried, ‘save me for God’s sake !’ “ In vain he called—l was turned to stone —my cutlass was in my hand, but my fin gers were palsied—he perished! But the worst is yet untold. “At daybreak, the terrified passengers were released from their imprisonment, but what a release! With their arms bound tightly behind their backs, they stood rang ed on deck, like so mauy victims for sacri fice. The females were left free, but the strong bonds of affection fettered them, and beside the husband and father stood the un shrinking wife and the heroic daughter.— Salviada, accompanied by one of bis ruffi ans, deliberately approached one of the Spanish gentlemen and demanded his purse, watch, and the keys of his trunks. Calmly and silently the old man obeyed. Antonio handed them to the villain beside him, and then made a peculiar sign with his finger, which appeared io he well understood by his gang, for one of them immediately step ped forward, anil with one blow of his long knife, sent the helpless Spaniard to his last account. A stifled shriek burst from the lips of the women, as the bleeding corpse was flung headlong over the gunwale. But the work of death proceeded, and the se cond Spaniard shared the sale of his com panion. As the monster Salviada approach ed the pinioned American, his wife silently but eagerly watched Iris every motion. She saw the sign, and clasped her inlant in one arm, threw herself upon the bosom of her husband just as the weapon was descending with all the force of a villain’s arm. Jlu ther and child—both perished by the same blow; but alas! the precious shield bad been interposed in vain—a second stab pros trated her husband at her side. Elinor Nelson bad stood as rigid as marble, gaz ing with dilated eye upon the horrid spec tacle. Stirless, almost breathless she stood, until they drew near her father, then, like a tigress robbtd .f her young, she sprang forward. “‘Dastardly wretch!’ she exclaimed, as she snatched the useless weapon from my hand, ‘ will you see ibis and yet give no aid r “She aimed a blow at Salviada as she spoke; he caught the weapon in his nuked hand, but a gasir on the cheek and three fingers of his left hand rendered useless for life, are lasting memorials to him of a wo man’s heroic spirit. Irritated at seeing the Llood of their leader flow beneath a wo man’s hand, one of his desperate conq an ions rushed forward and buried h s dagger in her bosom. She fell—that stalely form : fell like a broken lily at the feel of those outcasts of humanity. Then first 1 awoke from my stupor. 1 staggered forward to ward the lifeless body, but the right hand of Salviada fell upon me like an iron mace. He struck me to the deck, and when I re- | NUMBER 44. W. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR. covered my recollection I was lying in my berth in the cabin. “ Despise me—hate me as yoti will—yon shall yet know the whole troth. I was cow ard enough to look upon these atrocious deeds without attempting to avenge them— I was coward enough to take mj share of the plunder, because my life was threatened if I refused. Did I not thus become a par ticipator in the crime l “ As if there were some secret tie which linked us together, from that hour Salvisda and I were never asunder. Much as I ha ted him, 1 seemed to be under some spell which forced me to submit to him. I have witnessed many Woody scenes since then, but my hand has never used the dagger, I dared not murder; and the task of plun dering the chests of our victims, or examin ing the cargoes of our prizes, has always been assigned to me, while bolderihearted villains shed the blond of our prisoners.— I could not escape from them—the eye of Salviada was forever upon me, and he seem ed to have singled me out for his peculiar prey. Three years spent in this manner hod almost made me reckless of life, when our shipwreck compelled the gang to se parate. Mechanically obeying the orders of Antonio, I accompanied him to Boston, determined, however, to seize the earliest chance of escape, when his display of wealth and his drunken boasts first excited suspi cion. “ We were imprisoned, and Salviada vol unteered a confession, which he knew would screen himself—the most goihy of all—by the sacrifice of me—the most innocent.— Nothing but the overpowering instinct which leads men to save his own life at any cost, could, I am convinced, have induced him to take such a course; for, whatever was his motive, he certainly manifested a sttange sort of affection foi me. He rescued me repeatedly from peril, and always tome was kind, though I never could overcome my abhorrence for him. I have deserved death, but there is no blood upon my hands; the stain is upoti my heart —l stood among (hv mantcrer:~ He turned away, and, throwing himself upon liie pallet, gave way to the wildest emotion. ** But your mother!” said Mr. Wilson, after a pause. Raising himself slowly, he looked up with an almost maniacal expression as bej exclaimed— “ She feared I might meet my piratwrijn father—how will the meet her pirate son tr then, with a wild laugh he cried—“ \\ hy it is right—the sins of the father are visited upon the children—shame was the inherit ance of my mother—sin was entailed upon me hy my father—guilt is mj only heritage!” • ••**• The court was crowded to suffocation.— The youth and prepossessing appearance of the prisoner excited universal interest, while many a lowering glance was directed to the witness-box, in which sat the ferocious-look ing Salviada. The deposition of the State’s evidence was read—his cross-examination confirmed the truth of his statements, and, in spite of their interest in the prisoner, the opinions of ell were decidedly against him, when Mr. Wilson arose to address the court. He stated the facts, as he had learned them from the confession of the accused ; he dwelt upon the enormities of which the witness had been guilty ; he pleaded in extenuation of the prisoner his extreme youth and con stitutional timidity, and ended with an ap peal to the feelings of the jury, which wrung tears from the sternest eyes in court. The judge was evidently much affected when he delivered hischatgetothe jury. In stating the facts of the case, he inadveitently made a slight error; it was the mistake of a sin gle word, and that so trifling a one as not mainly to affect the merits of the case, but the prisoner, who had hitherto stood silent and unmoved, delected it instantly. Turn ing suddenly tothe judge he exclaimed— “ Pardon me, sir, but it is a case of life and death which is now to he decided; you have committed an error in your charge, and every word is now of importance.” The clear ringing tones of his voice struck upon the hearts of all present. The judge corrected his mistake, and the jury retired. They were not long absent, for whatever might be their prepossessions, the facts were indisputable, and they returned a verdict of “ guilty of piracy,” bot recom mended him to mercy. A low, distinct murmur ran through the court, as the judge riiepared to pronounce the fatal sentence, t was followed by a death like silence, and each word, as it fell slowly arid solemnly from the lips of the venerable men, seemed to awaken a thrill of agony in the whole frame of the piisoner. It was like that meat ciuel of all the tortures of the olden time —the punishment (f the water-drop, where the criminal was compelled to sk with shaved head beneath a water-tube which allowed only one drop to fall up u his head at regular intervals, until his brain became maddened and bis frame convulsed. Fearful was the sound of the prisoner** 1 alf-suppn Sied moans, as the judge prr - ceeded to bid him prepare for death, ard warned him not to expect the mercy Wrhich his jurors would fain have awaided him.— ’fhe chances of pardon were iudeed slight, for the governor was a man of iuflexib e purpose, and no feeling of compassion was ever allowed to plead the cause of guilt in his bosom. The unhappy boy quivered iu