Newspaper Page Text
BY C. R. HANLEITER,
P © (ETE3 Y„
“ Much yet remains unsung .”
GOOD NIGHT.
Good night ? nil ! no; the hour is ill
Which severs those it should unite.
Let us remain together still
Then it will be good night.
How can I call the lone night good,
Though thy sweet wishes wing its (light ?
Do it not snitl, though understood,
Then it will be good uigct.
To hearts which near each other move
From evening close to morning light,
The night is good ; because, my love,
They never say good night.
■■ihhiii
g[| [L EE ©T[E E> LI © □
LEGEND OF THE BELL ROCK.
lIY CAPTAIN MAP.BVAT, R. N.
There was a grand profession through
the streets of the towns of Perth and of
Dundee. The holy abbots, in their robes,
walked under gilded rnnopies, the monks
chanted, the censers were swung, flags arul
banners were carried by seamen, lighted ta
pers by penitents; St. Antonio, the patron
of those who trust to the stormy ocean, was
carried in all pomp through ihe streets; and,
as the procession passed, coins of various
value were thrown down by those who
watched it from the windows, which, as fast
as thrown, were collected by little boys
dressed as angels, who held silver vessels to
receive the largesses. During the whole day
did the pageant continue, and large was the
treasure collected in the two towns. Eve
ry one gave freely, for there were few, in
deed none, who, it not in their own circle,
at least among their acquaintances, hut had
to deplore the loss of someone dear to thorn,
or to those whom they visited, fr >m the dan
gerous rock which lay in the* very track of
all the vessels entering the Frith of Tay.
These processions hud been arranged, in
order that a sufficient sum of money might
he collected to enable tire authorities to put
in execution a plan proposed by an advan
tiirous and hold young seaman, in a council
held for the purpose, of fixing a bell on the
rock, which should he so airanged that the
slightest breath of wind would cause the
hammer of it to vibrate, and thus, by its
tolling, warn the mariner of his danger.—
The money received was more than suffi
cient for the purpose. A meeting was then
held, and it was unanimously agreed that
be charged with the
commission to go over to Amsterdam, and
purchase the hell of a merchant residing
there, who, as Andrew stated, had one in
his possession, which, from its fine tone and
size, was exactly calculated for the service
to which it was to he appropiiated.
Andrew M’Clise embarked with the
money, and made a prosperous voyage. He
had often been at Amsterdam, ami had lived
with (he merchant, whose name was Vun
dermaelin ; and the attention to his atfuirs,
the dexterity, and the rapidity of the move
ments of Andrew M’Clise, had often elici
ted the warmest encomiums from Mynheer
Vandermaclin ; and many evenings had
Andrew M’Clise passed with him, drinking
in moderation their favorite scheedam, and
indulging in the meditative tpeerahauni.—
Vandermaclin had often wished that he pos
sessed a son like Andrew M'Clisc, to whom
he could leave his property, with the full as
surance that it would not he scattered, but
greatly increased.
Vandermaclin was a widower. He had
hut one daughter, who was now just a: rived
at an age to return from the pension to her
father’s house, and take upon herself the
domestic duties. M’Clise had never yet
seen the beautiful Katerina.
“ And so, Mynheer M'Clise,” said \ nn
derrnaclin, who was sitting in the warehouse
on the ground-floor of 1 1 is tenement, “ you
came to purchase the famous hell of Utrecht,
with the intention of fixing it upon the rock,
the danger of which we have so often talk
ed over after the work of the day has been
donel I, too, have suffered from that same
rock, as you well know; but still I have
been fortunate. The price will he heavy ;
and so it ought to he, for the bell itself is of
no small weight.”
“ Wo are prepared to pay it, Mynheer
Vandermaclin.”
“ Nevertheless, in so good a cause, and
for so good a purpose, you shall not he over
charged. I will say nothing of the beauty
of the workmanship. You shall pay hut
for its value as metal the same price which
the Jew Isaacs offered me for it but four
months ago. I will not ask what a Jew
would ask, but what a Jew would give,
which makes no small difference. Have
you ten thousand guilders ?”
“ I have, and more.”
“ That is my price, Mynheer M’Clise, and
I wish for no more; for I, too, will contri
bute my share to the good work. Are you
content, and it is a bargain ?”
“It is; and the holy abbots will thank
yog on vellum, Mynheer Vandermaclin, for
your gMierosity.”
“ I prefer the thanks of the bold seamen
to those of the idle churchmen ; hut never
mind, it is a bargain. Now, we will go in ;
it is time to close the doors. We will take
& iFiimila JUtoaKijicr : ©ffeotetr to Hitevatuve, SlarCcuUure, i&ceftantcs, Education, jFovctfin ana Domestic tuteUCflcnce, &r.
our pipes, and you shall make the acquain
tance of my fair daughter, Katerina.”
At the time of which we are speaking,
M’Clise was about six-nnd-twenty veal’s of
age ; lie wes above the middle size, elegant
in person, and with a frankness and almost
a nobility in his countenance, which won all
who saw him.
His manners were like those of most sea
men, bold, hut not offensively so. His eye
was piercing as an eag'e’s and it seemed as
if his very soul spoke from it. At the very
first mepting between him and the daughter
of Vandermaclin, it appeared to both as if
theii destinies were to unite them.
They loved not as others love, hut with an
intensity it would be impossible to portray ;
hut they hardly exchanged a word. Again
arid again they met; their eyes spoke, hut
nothing mote. The hell was put on board
the vessel, the money had been paid down,
and M’Clise could no longer delay. He felt
as if his heart-strings were severed, ns he
tore himself away from the land where all
remained that he coveted upon earth. And
Katerina, she too felt as if her existence
was a blank. As the vessel sailed from the
port, she breathed short; and, when not ev
en her white and lofty top-gallant sail could
he discerned as a speck, she threw herself
upon her couch and wept. M’Clise, as lie
sailed away, remained for hours leaning his
cheek on his hand, thinking of, again and
again, every lineament and feature of the
peerless Katerina.
Two months passed away, during which
M’Clise was busied every ebb of the lido
in superintending the work on the rock.—
At last all was ready, and once more was to
he held a gay procession: hut this lime it
was on the water. It was on a calm and
lovely summer’s morn, that the abbots and
the monks, attended by a large company of
the authorities, started from the shore of
Aberhrothwi'-k in a long line of boats, de
corated with sacred hauliers, and with other
various flags and devices. The music float
ed along llie water, au<l the solemn chants of
the monks were, foi once, heatd where nev
er yet they had been listened to hefoie, or
ever will again. M’Ciise was at ihe rock,
ina small vessel puipost-lv consti in-led to
carry the hell, and with sheers to hang it on
supports imbedded in il.e solid rock. The
hell was in its place, and the abbot blessed
the bell; while holy water was sprinkled on
the metal, which was, for the future, to he
lashed by the waves of ihe salt sea. The
music and the chants were renewed ; as
they continued, the wind gradually rose,
and, with the rising of the wind, the hell
tolled loud and deep. The tolling of the
hell was the signal for return, for it was a
warning that the weather was about to
charge, and the procession pulled buck to
Aberbrothwick and landed in gooilWime;
for, in one hour more, and tiie rocky coast
was again lashed hv the waves, and the hell
tolled loud and quick, although there was
nothing near it but the sea-gull, thatscrearn
ed with fright as he wheeled in the air, at
this unusual noise upon the rock, which at
the ebb, he had so often made his resting
i place.
M’Ciise had done his work ; the hell was
fixed ; and once more he hastened with his
vessel to Amsterdam. Once more he was
an inmate of Vamlennaclin’s house, once
more in the presence of the idol of his soul.
This time they spoke; this time their vows
were exchanged for life and death. But
Vandermaclin saw not the state of their
hearts. He looked upon the young seaman
as one too low, too poor, to he a match for
his daughter; so he never imagined that he
would have dared to love her. But he was
soon undeceived ; for M’Clise frankly sla
ted his attachment, and demanded the hand
of Katerina; and, at the demand, Vander
muclin’s face flushed with anger.
“Mynheer M’Clise,” said he, aftera pause,
as if to control his feelings; “when a man
marries, he is hound to show that he has
wherewithal to support his wife ; to siippoit
her in that rank, anil to afford her those lux
uries, to which she has been accustomed in
her father’s house. Show me that you can
do so, and I will not refuse you the hand
of Katerina.
“ As yet, I have it not.” replied M’Clise ;
“ but lam young, and can work ; I have
money and will gain more. Tell me what
sum do you think that I should | o-se-s lo
warrant my demanding the hand of your
daughter.”
“ Produce twelve thousand guilders, and
she is yours,” replied the merchant.
“ I have but three thousand,” replied
M’Clise.
“ Then, think no more of Katerina. It
is a foolisli passion; and you must forget it.
And, Mynheer M’Clise, 1 must not have
my daughter’s affections tampered with.—
She must forget you ; and that can only he
effected by your not meeting her again. 1
wish you well, Mynheer M’Clise, but I must
request your absence.”
M’Clise departed from the presence of
the merch ant, bowed down with grief and
disappointment. He contrived that a letter,
containing the result of his application,
should be put in the hands of Katerina.—
But Vandermaclin was informed of this,
and Katerina was sent to a convent, there
to remain until the departure of her lover;
and Vandermaclin wrote to his correspon
dent at Dundee, requesting that the goods
forwarded to him might not, in future, bo
sent by the vessel commanded by M’Clise.
Os this our young captain received infor
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 4, 1843.
million. All hope was nearly gone ; si ill
he lingered, and delayed his departure. He
was no longer the active, energetic seaman;
he neglected all, even his attire.
M’Clise knew in which convent his fair
Katerina was immured ; and often would
ho walk round its precincts, w ith the hope
of seeing her. if if were hut for n moment,
hut in vain. His vessel was now laden, and
lie could no longer delay. He was to sail
the next morning; and once more did the
unhappy young man take his usual walk to
look at those walls which contained all that
was dear to him. His reverie was broken
by a stone falling at his feet; he took it up;
there was a small piece of paper attached
to it with a silken thread. He opened it; in
the handwriting of Katerina lie found hut
these two ominous words—“ The Bell.”
The Bell! M’Clise started ; for he im
mediately comprehended what was meant.
The whole plan came likeclectricity through
his brain. Yes; then there was a promise
of happiness. The bell was worth ten thou
sand guilders; that was the sum offered,
and would now he given by Isaacs, the Jew.
He would be happy with his Katerina ; and
he blessed her ingenuity for devising the
means. For a minute or two he vvastrans
poited ; hut the reaction soon took place.
What was he about to attempt? Sacrilege
—a treason against humanity. The hell
had been blessed by the holy church ; it lmd
been purchased by holy and devout alms.
It had been placed on the rock to save the
lives of his brother seamen ; and were lie
to remove it, would he not be responsible
fin all the lives lost ? Would not the wail of
the widow, and the moan of the orphan, be
crying out to Heaven against him ? No, no!
never ! The crime was too horrible ; and
M’Clise stamped upon the paper, thinking
that he was tempted by Satan in the shape
of a woman ; hut wjieii woman tempts man
is lost. lit* i era lied lie r fauns of Katerina;
all his repugnance was otererme; he re
solved that the de and should 1 e accomplish
ed, and that Katerina should he gained, ev
en if he lost his own soul.
Andrew M’Clise sailed from Amsterdam,
ami KaU-riiia icovered her liberty. Van
deriiiaeliit was anxious that si e should mar
ly ; ami many were the unsiu cessful suilois
for her hand. She reminded her fniher, ihnt
he had pledged himself, if M’Clise counted
down twelve thousand guilders, that she
should he his wife ; and to that pledge she
insisted he was hound fast. Ami Vatider
maelin, after reasoning with and pointing
out to her that twelve thousand guilders was
a sum so large, that M’Clisc; might not pro
cure it until his old age. even if lie were
fortunate, ac knowledged that such was his
promise, and that he would, like; an honest
man, abide by if. provided that M’Clise
should fulfil his part of ihe agreement in
the space of two years; after which lie
should delay her settlement no longer. Kat
erina raised her eves to heaven, and whis
pered, as she clasped her hands, “ The
Bell.” Alas! that we should invoke Heav
en when we would w ish to do wrong : hut
mortals arc blind, and none so blind as those
who are impelled by passion.
It was in the summer of that year that
M’Clise made his arrangements: having
procured the assistance of some lawless
bauds, he had taken the advantage of a
smooth and glassy sea and a high tide*, to
remove the hell to his own vessel; a work
of little difficulty to him, as he had placed it
there, and knew well the manner of ihe fast
enings. He sailed away for Amsterdam,
and was permitted by Heaven to arrive safe
ly with his sacrilegious freight. He did not,
ns before, enter the canal opposite to the
house of Vandermaclin, hut one that run be
hind the habitation of the Jew Isaacs. At
night, he* went into the* house, mid reported
to the Jew what he hail for sale; unci ihe
keen einyeyos of the bent double little Is
raelite sparkled with delight, for lie knew
that his profit would he* gicut. At midnight
the lu*ll was made fust to the crane, and
safely deposited in the warehouse of lln*
Jew, who counted out the ten thousand
guilders to the enraptured M’Clise, whose
thoughts were wholly upon the possession
of his Katerina, and not upon the* crime lie
had commuted.
But,alas! to conceal one crime, we too
often euinc to he guilty of many of a deep
er hue; and thus it was with Andiew
M’Clise. The people who had assisted bin*,
upon the promise of a thousand guilders
being divided among them, now murmured
at their share, anil insisted upon an equal
division of the spoils or threatened mi im
mediate confession of the black deed.
M’Clise raved, and cursed, nnd tore his
hair, and promised to give them the money
so soon as he had wedded Katerina ; but
they would not consent. Again the devil
came to his assistance, and whispered how
he was to act. He yielded to their de
mands. The next night the division was to
he made. They met in thecnbin ; be gave
them wine, and they drank plentifully ; hut
the wine was poisoned, mill they all died
before the morning. M’Clise tied weights
to their bodies, and sank them in the deep
canal, and broke open his hatches, to make
it appear that his vessel had been plundered.
He then went to the authorities, denouncing
his crew ns having robbed him anil escaped.
Immediate search was made, but they were
not to be found ; and it was supposed that
they had made off in a boat.
Once mure M’Clise, whoso conscience
was scared, went to the house of Vander-
rrnclin, counted down fen thousand guilders,
and claimed his bride ; and Vandermaclin,
who felt that his daughter’s happiness was
at stake, now gave his consent. As M’Clise
stated that he was anxious to return to Eng
land, and arrange with the merchants whose
goods had been plundered, in a few days
their marriage took place; and Katerina
clasped the murderer in her arms. All was
apparent joy and revelry ; hut there was
anguish in the heart of M’Clise, who, now
that he had gained his object, felt that it had
cost him too much, for his peace of mind
was gone for ever. But Katerina cared not;
every spark of feeling was absorbed in her
passion, and the very guilt of M’Clise hut
rendered him more dear; for was it not for
her that he had done all this? M’Clise re
ceived her portion, and hastened to sail
away ; for the bodies were still in the canal,
and he trembled every hour lest his crime
should he discovered. When Vandermac
lin bade farewell to his daughter, he knew
not why, but there was a feeling he could
not suppress, that they never should meet
again.
“ Down—dow*n below, Katerina ; this is
no place for you,” cried M’Clise, as he stood
at the helm of the vessel. “ Down, dear
est, down, or you will he washed overboard.
Every sea threatens to pour into our decks;
already have we lost two men. Down,
Katerina ! down, I tell you.”
“ 1 fear not; let me remain with you.”
“ I tell you, down,” cried M’Clise, in
wrath ; Katerina cast upon him a reproach
ful look, and obeyed.
The storm was at its height; the sun had
set; black and monstrous billows chased
each other, and ihe dismasted vessel was
hurled on toward the land. The wind howl
| oil and w histled sharply through each chink
in the bulwarks of the vessel. For thice
days had they fought with the gale, hut in
vain. Now. if it continued, all chance was
over, fir the shore was oil their lee, distant
not many miles.
Nothing could save them, but gaining the
month of the Frith of Tay. which would
iiiilffo il.i'iu to bear up foi Dundee. There
was a boiling snree, a iluiU night, warring
sens-, and their masts were floating far away.
M’Clise stood at the helm, keeping the ves
sel hinadside to the sen ; Ids heart was full
of bitierness, for his guilty conscience bore
him down, and he looked lor death, yet he
dreaded it; for was he not a sacrilegious
murderer, and is there notan avenging God
above?
Once more Kater'na appeared on deck,
clinging for support to Andrew.
“ 1 cannot stay below. Tell me, will it
soon he over ?”
“Yes,” replied M’Clisc, gloomily; “it
will soon he over with all of us.”
“ How nidiii you ? You told me there
was tm danger.”
“ 1 told you falsely. There is death soon,
and damnation afterward: for you I liavd
lost my soul !*’
“ Oh, say not so !”
“ I say it. Leave me, woman, leave me,
or 1 cuie thee,”
“ Cmterne, Andrew ! Oh, no! Kiss me,
Andrew ; and if we are to perish, let us
expire in eaih other’s arms.”
“’Tis as well; you have dragged me to
perdition. Leave me, I say, for you have
inv hitter curse.”
Thus was his guilty love turned foliate,
now that death was staring him in the face.
Katerina made no reply. She threw* her
self on the deck, and abandoned herself to
her feeling of hitter anguish. And ns she
lay there, and M’Clise stood at the helm,
the rain abated ; the vessel was no longer
borne down as hi fiui*. although the waves
were still mountain high, ‘i he seamen oil
board rallied ; some fiagments of sail were
set on the remnants of ilu* masts, and there
was n rliancp of safety. M’Clise spoke lint,
hut watched the helm. The wind shifted in
their favor, and hope rose in every heart.
The Friih of ‘fav was now open, mid they
wen* saved ! Light was the heart of M’Clise
when he kept away the Vessel, and gave the
helm up to the mute. He liusleurt! to Kat
erina, who still remained on the deck, rais
cd her up, whispered comfort and returning
love ; but she heard not —she could not for
get —and slit* wept bitterly.
“ We are saved, dear Katerina !”
“ Heller that we hail been lost!” replied
she, mournfully.
“ N’o, no ! say not so, with your own An
drew* pressing you to his bosom.”
“ Your hitter curse !”
“ ’Tuns madness—nothing. I knew not
vvlint I said.”
But the iron had entered into her soul.
Her heart was broken.
“ You had better give orders for them to
look out for the Bell Rock,” observed the
man at the helm to M’Clise.
The Bell Rock ! M’Clise shuddered, and
made no reply. Onward went the vessel,
impelled by the sea and wind ; one moment
raised aloft, and towering over the surge ;
at another, deep in the hollow trough, and
walled in by the convulsed elements.—
M’Clisc still held his Katerina in Iris arms,
who responded not tohis endearments, when
a sudden shock threw them on the deck.—
The crashing of the timbers, the pouring of
the waves of the stern; the heeling and set
tling of the vessel, were hut the work of a
few seconds. One more furious shock—
she separates, falls on her beam ends, and
the raging seas sweep over her.
| M’Clise threw from him her whom he
had so madly loved, and plunged into the
wave. Katerina shrieked, as she dashed
after him, and all was over.
When the storm rises, and the screaming
sea-gull seeks the land, and the fisherman
i hastens his hark toward the bench, then is
to lie seen, descending from the dark clouds
1 with the rapidity of lightning, the form of
Andrew M’Clise, the heavy hell, to which
he is attached by the neck, bearing him
down to his doom.
And when nil is smooth and calm, when,
at iheehbing tide,the wave hut gently kisses
the rock, then, by the light of the silver
moon, the occupants of the vessels which
sail from the Frith of Tay, have often be
held the form of the beautiful Katerina,
waving her white scarf as a signal that they
should approach and take her off from the
rock on which she is seated. At times she
offers n letter for her father, Vandermaclin;
and she mourns and weeps when the wary
mariners, with their eyes fixed on her, and
with folded arms, pursue their way in silence
and in dread.
[MI 3©©[E 1L [L ur\ Y a
Origin of the Names of the several Uniied
Slates. — Maine was so culled as.early as
1633, from Maine in Franee, of which Hen
rietta Maria, Queen of England, was at
that time proprietor.
New-IJampshire was the name given to
the territory conveyed by the Plymouth
Company toCapt. John Mason, by patent,
Nov. 7, 1639, with reference to the patentee,
who was Governor of Portsmouth, in Hamp
shire, England.
Vermont was so called by the inhabitants
in their Declaration of Independence, Jan
uary 16, 1777. from the French verd mont,
green mountain.
Missaohusetts was so called from Mnssa
rliusetls Bay, and from the Massachusetts
tribe of Indians in tin* neighborhood of Bos
ton. The tribe is tl.Might to have derived
\ its name fn m tl e Blue Hills id’Milton “ 1
have tearneil,” says Roger Williams, •• ilmi
the Massachusetts was so culled from the
Bun* Hills.”
Rhode-Island whs so called in 16-14, in
reference to the Island of Rhodes, in the
Mediterranean.
Connecticut was so called from the In
dian name of its principal river.
New-York was so called, in 1664, in refer
ence to the duke of York and Albany, to
whom this territory was granted by the King
of England.
New-Jf.rsey was so called, in 1664, from
the Island of Jersey, on the coast of France,
the residence of the family cf Sir George
Cattcret, to whom this territory was granted.
Pennsylvania was so called in 1681,
after William Penn.
Delaware was so called in 1703, from
Delaware Bay, on which it lies, and which
received its name from Lord De La War,
who died in this hay.
Maryland was so called in honor of Hen
rietta Maria, Queen of Charles 1. in his pa
tent to Lord Baltimore, June 30, 1632.
Virginia was so called in 1584, after
Elizabeth, the virgin queen of England.
Carolina was so called by the French in
1564. in honor of King Charles IX. of
Franco.
Georgia was so called in 1732, in honor
of King George 11.
Alabama was so called in ISI7, from its
principal i iver.
Mississippi was so called in 1800, from
its Western boundary. Mississippi is said
lo denote ihe whole river, i. e. the rivet
formed by the union of many.
Louisiana was so culled, in honor of
Louis XIV. of France.
Tennessee was so called in 1796, from
its principal river. The word Ten-ussee is
said to signify a curved spoon.
Kentucky was so called in 1792, from its
principal river.
Illinois was so called in 1809, from its
principal river. The word is said to signify
the river of wen.
Indiana was so called in 1809, from the
American Indians.
Ohio was so called in ISO 2, from its
Bout hern boundary.
Missouri was so called in IS2I, from its
principal river.
Michigan was so called in 1805, from the
lake on its border.
Arkansas was so called in 1819, from its
principal river.
Florida was so called by Juan Ponce de j
Leon in 1572, because it was discovered on
Easter Sunday, in Spanish Pascua Florida.
Columbia was so called in reference to
Columbus.
Wisconsin was so called from its princi
pal river.
lowa is so called from its principal river.
Oregon is so called from its principal river.
I walked silently through little hamlets
nnd close by their outer churchyards, w here
crumbled upcast coffin-boards were glim
mering, while the once bright eyes that hail
laid in them were mouldered into grey ashes.
Cold thought! clutch not like a cold sceptre
at my heart; I looked up to the starrv sk y >
and an everlasting chain stretebeg thither,
and over and’below, and afi JS Life, and
Warmth, and Light, end } s godlike op
God.
VOLUME I.—NUMBER 45.
Keep it before Yourself, Young man.
! that industry, integiity, good morals and
■ virtue will be a passport for you in society,
j and will make you respected and esteemed
ly tie good and wise.
Keep it before yourself, Young Lady,
tlmt kindness of heart, a sweet disposition
and an even temper, will make you an agree
able companion with the old and young.
Keep it before yourself, Young Man or
Woman, that in choice for a partner for life
you should look well to the habits and dispo
sition of each other, that a young man with a
cigar in his mouth, and cane in his hand,
and his brains running to hair, may do very
well for a heau, hut is not to be compared to
the plain unpretending youth whose heart
is right, and whose common sense will not
allow him to play the dandy. Thata young
] lady who is all accomplishmerits.'who can
sing a little, dance a little, thumb the piano
a little, and look fascinating any time, may
fill a place on the sofa, ami be the belie of
a ball room, yet if she cannot boil a pudding,
roast a steak, dust a room, or darn a stock
ing—if her accomplishments are all for
show and none for use—then ten chances to
one that the young lady who has a good
knowledge of household affairs has been
brought up by a careful mother, and is well
versed in the actual duties of life, will make
a better wife, and a pleasanter and happier
home.
Keep it before yourself, Farmer, that you
! should return to the earth at least as much as
you take from it—that you should make
your land richer year by year, and not let it
wear out—that you should have a neat
house, large barns, good sheds for your cat
tle, ami show that it is your ambition to
make “ two spears of grass grow where one
grew before.”
Keep it before yourself, Merchant, that a
” nimble sixpence is better than a slow shil
ling”—that one price for goods, nr dealing
with every person alike, is the right way to
give general satisfaction, and to secure cus
tom.
h.eep !t before youself, Mechanic, that
punctuality is a viitue ; that work promised
should always be done at the time and well
done, and tlicii you need give yoursoW
fears of a want of business.
Judge Keyes. —Old Eliss Keyes, former
ly first Judge of Windsor county, Vermont,
was a strange composition of folly and good
sense, of natural shewdness, and want of
cult Nation. 1 remember the substance of
a sentence he pmnounred upon a poor rag
ged fellow for petit-laiceny. The case was
stealing a pair of boots from Gen. .’Curtis,
then a man of considerable wealth in the
town of Windsor. It was proved that the
General had lost his boots, and that they
were found at the lodgings of the prisoner,
and that of course lie stole them ; so at least
said the jury, and. the jury, you know, is in
fallible.
Well, the Judge very gravely, previously
to pronouncing the sentence of the court,
undertook to read the young rascal a fee
lute. “ You ate a fine fellow,” said his
honor, “to be arraigned before this court
for stealing They krv you arc poor—-no
one doubts it, who Imrks'bt you—atul how
dare you, being poor, to have the impudence
to steal a pair of hoots ? Nobody but rich
people have a right to take such things with
out paying for them. They say you are
wot t bless—that is evident from the fact that
not one has cvet asked justice to be done to
you ; all by unanimous consent pronounced
you guilty before you were tried. Now,
you being so worthless, was a fool to steal,
liecause you might know you would be con
demned. And then you see it was a great
aggravation of your offence, that you stole
them iti the large town of VVihdsor. In
that large tow n to commit such an act is
most horrible. And yon must not only go
to Windsor to steal, but must stenl from
that great man, General Curtis. This caps
tiie climax of vour iniquity. Ease wretch,
whv did you rot go and steal the only pair
of Loots which some pom man had or could
get, and then you would have been let
alone; nolxidy would have troubled them
selves about the act ? For your audacity in
the great town of Windsor, and from the
great General Curtis the court sentences
you to tlnce mouths in the county jail, and
God give you something to eat.”— Vermont
Paper.
Though for many years a Judge, Mr.
Keyes hail no great partiality for the rules
of law. no paitieular veneration for his own
bench. His derisions were those of a court
of equity; for lie soldom paid any attention
to the law when it interfered with his own
ideas of justice.
The old Judge finally became involved
in lawsuits himself, concerning land title—
the fruitful source of ligitation every where
—which finally proved his ruin. riis cases
went against him ; and, after petitioning
the Legislature year after year for anew
trial, he at length heermo so disgusted tb*
he took all his law books and made a publia
bonfire of them in the street in front of his
house, at declaring that his
domicil shoo’d never again he disgraced by
the of Mail,
Oliver Cromwell.! —Oliver Cromwell was
a prodigy, J3orn of buinblo parentage, ho
knew nothing of the blandishment of palaces
and courts, and therefore lie trampled upon
them, and spurned them from his sight. It
was wonderful (o see with what resolute-