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bodies as lie left them, took the crown from
their heads, dispensing with th eformula of
dissection, and, with a glad heart, pursued
his journey. On arriving in the neighbor
hood of the Mohawk liver, lie played the
same game as at Aqtrago, killing, in all, sev
en Indians. He there narrowly escaped
losing his life. As he was lying in ambush
lie discovered an Indian, who, from his man
lier, lie believed to be alone, and whom he |
■hot. At the next moment, two tall vvarri- :
nrs rushed upon hint with their tomahawks. |
One of them received the contents of his j
other barrel, the second advanced with the j
fury of a demon. He made a desperate
pass at the head of Murphy, which he ward
ed of!’ with his rifle, at (lie same instant
plunging his knife into the heart of the aav
ftge. Fearing there might lie more, he le
treated and left the three Weltering in blood.
Finding lie was not pursued, he returned
just at evening, took their scalps, and start
ed for tUe fort in Sell oh a i ie, where he ar
rived in safety. After staying there three
days, lie returned to his own neighborhood,
where the Indians had just been, and suc
ceeded in taking three men prisoners, who
were in the field hoeing corn. The num
ber of the savages was not known, they bad
been gone about two hours, and would that
night probably commit their victims to the
torturing fire. No time was to be lost.—
There were but five men at the block house,
who volunteered to join the brave Irishman
in immediate pursuit. They followed the
trail ns rapidly ns a necessary caution would
permit. Early in the evening, they discov
ered the fire of the encampment. There
were eight warrior*, who were arranging to
perform a war dance, and reek their ven
geance upon the prisoners. As their prepar- .
alory bustle increased. Murphy and his men !
drew nearer. The Indians had their cap
tives bound to a tree in the centre of a ring,
around which the faggots were placed fur
the fire that was to cap the climax of their
festivity. Dreadful must have been the
feelings of the victims about to he sacrificed
on the barbarian altar. The firing of the
combustible pile was the signal fixed on for
action. At last the blazing torch was rais
ed, the heroic party rushed upon the sava
ges, placed the muzzles of their guns to
their bea Is, and scattered ‘.heir brains to the
four winds. Six of them were killed in a
second, and the other two had not retreat
five steps, before their spirits joined the rest
in their journey through the air. The un
expected deliverance from impending death
filled the hearts of the captives with feelings J
of gratitude and joy beyond the powers of
language to express. The next evening
they were restored to the bosoms of their
agonizing families r.nd friends, whose anx
iety for theit safety, and the result of the ex
|>edition in pursuit, was intense.
The fame of our lii it hero had become
rotmimis. He obtained tlu? name of Indian
KiUer. His exploits had reached the ears
of the led men. To him they could trace
the solution of the mysterious disappearance
of their friends ut Aquavgo. Learning that
be spent the most of his time in tho woods
and alone, they determined to cut him oil'.
yl oad ul tft
watch his movements, with.instruct'n is from
Brandt to take him alive if possible, that
they might hold u jubilee of vengeance over
their destroying enemy. This accounts for
the circumstance that lie was seldom tired
upon, wlieu lie come in contact with them.
After remaining at the block house a day,
Murphy again commenced recotmoitering.
He hail proceeded but a few miles before
be was attacked by a patty of savages who
lay in ambush. Five hideous monsters rush
ed from their covert with terrific yells, and
advanced upon him. In the twinkling of
an eye he threw off his knapsack, knowing
that in flight alone there was safety. A ball
from hi* rifle checked the career of the fore
most, which, tor a moment, paralyzed the
others. He then darted from them with
the agility of a deer. The woods rang with
the war whoop, every muscle was nerved
to overtake the object of tlieir revenge.—
Swift was the retreat and swift the pursuit.
After running about half a mile lie stopped,
and found he had gained considerable on
his enemy. He quickly charged his empty
barrel, and the next moment saw one of the
Indians in advance of the rest. A messen
ger, more grim than himself, awaited the
foe ; in a second, his fate was sealed in death.
Utged on by the fury of their natures, the
survivors renewed tlieir exertions in the
chace, As they approached, another of
their number fell, and Murphy fled us on
wings of wind. Finding their exertions
vain, the two returned to their fellow com
panions, who had gone to “ that country
from whose bourne no traveler returns.”—
Relieved from his pursuers, our daring hero
now prepared to turn the tables upon them.
He feared not to come in contact with two
of bis enemy, if his rifle was charged. He
cautiously retraced his steps and approach
ed so near, ts to hear the lamentations of
the survivors over the dead bodies of their
companions. Not apprehending his return,
they were entirely off their guard. He
crawled up within twetity rods of them un
observed. Satisfied no others were near,
he raised his deadly weapon, and the next
moment the two survivors followed tlieir
brothers to the world of spirits.
He took the scalps of the five, recovered
his knapsack, secured the arms and ammu
nition, and the same night returned to the
block house, only six miles from the scene
of action, a wonder and astonishment to his
friend*, a terror and scourge to hie enemies.
In the same manner Murphy annoyed the
■avages until they were driven from their
ancient haunts by die intrepidity and perse
verance of tho inhabitants. He had numer
ous hair breadth escapes, but was never ta
ken prisoner after his first esco|>e, or seri
ously wounded. He was so much dreaded
by the Indians that a party of three or four
often fled before him, frequently finding
tlieir number less by two before they could
get out of hia reach. He had a grcattlesire
to obtain the scalp and wash his hands in the
heart’s blood of Brandt. That accomplish
ed, ho said, bo could die happy. But that
cruel tory always went with the main body
of the warriors, atid was careful to keep out
of danger. In the ait of tinture, Murphy
exceeded the savage*. When be chanced
to disable an Indian and lake him alive, he
would bind him, and proceed to Oismcmb
! him, with the same sangfroid as a butcher
prepares bis meat For the stall. He seemed
I to tax the powers of his prolific and cccen
-1 trie genius in contriving new modes of in
flicting pain. For the Indian warrior, not
a spark of humanity was left in Ins bosom.
Tlieir squaws and papooses he never mo
lested. His deeds of blood sunk deep into
! the minds of the red men. Some time af
| ter the close of the war, when the Indians
! had removed far from that neighborhood,
j one, whose brother Murphy had killed,came
: a long distance to seek that deep looted re
! venge which marks the character of these
rude children of the forest.
Learning that he was in a swamp about a
mile off, waiting an opportunity to execute
his design, the enraged Irishman seized his
1 rifle, tomahawk, and scalping knife, deter
mined to give him battle. He proceeded
cautiously into the thicket a few rods, then
stopped to reconnoitre. He then advanced
into a small opening, and, within ten rods of
him he discovered his hated enemy raising
his gun to his face. Murphy cried out to
him, “ good aimthe Indian’s nerves trem
bled, the ball from the Irishman’s rifle pier
ced his heart, he gave a horrible shriek,
jumped into the air, and fell lifeless to the
ground. His was tlie last scalp the hardy
veteran ever look. To the day of his death
he indulged in feelings of the most direful
revenge towards that unfortunate race of
beings. At the restoration of peace lie set
tled about twelve miles fiom Utstayantho,
which place he continued to visit annually
until prevented by age. It was there I lis
tened to his stories; it was there lie com- i
menced bis savage warfare. That ground
had been enriched by the blood and mois
tened by the serum of hundreds. During
the revolution three pitched battles were
fought there, at the last of which the foe
was driven away for the last time by a force
under the command ol Colonel Hagar, aid
ed by Captain Harper. In that beautiful
valley now covered with peaceful dwellings,
Murphy always appealed animated. The
scenes of past life, with all tlieir thrilling
minulia, would rush upon Iris memory, and
nerve his trembling frame to “ fight his bat
tles o’er again.”
He lived until be was about seventy years
of age, wlien lie closed bin eventful career,
and sunk in the arms of death. His bones
moulder in the valley of Schoharie near
where the old foit stood, and not a stone
tells where they lie.
wLwium, otut ■ tm emsm i r ni
Tlnl I^lE^\[o)D
THE SWAN AND MAN.
“ Tho swan floated out from the reeds;
Rich was he in music anil silver.”—FoTT.’urX.
1 was looking, one spring morning, upon
the swan at his morning hath. In light,
bold and graceful movements, lie threw the
waves about hint, which, fresh and clear,
playing and foaming, danced on, making his
white feathers still more resplendent, yield
ing, and forming themselves mound his
graceful figure, and reflecting in every drop
their beautiful ruler, who sometimes struck
tticui niiti ton oingn, somcuiuca lovingly
caressing dipped his neck in their bosom.—
Sometimes lie plunged entirely into the wa
ter, and let it play over his head; then he
appeared again, shook the silvery spray from
his wings, and swain away proudly with the
air of a conqueror, whilst the waves obedi
ently separated, and, in their clear depths,
gave back the proud and glorious image.
I was looking at this beautiful picture one
spring morning, while the birds were sing
ing, and the young leaves of the finest were
whispering. 1 looked at it with deep-felt
pleasure, and yet was oppressed at the same
time with a peculiarly rad and tender emo
tion. “ The bird,” said I, “ moves like a
ruler in his element, which surrounds him,
only to hold him up on its breast, and to re
flect back again his beauty. In the relation
between this living being and the world in
which he moves, vvliat harmony, what free
dom, what beauty! This creature—and
man. Man, in perpetual struggle with the
world around him, all his motions constrain
ed, oppressed by the very air which he
breathes—Man, the Lord of nature—and
her slave.”
I thought, and mourned. I felt myself
bound—knew myself a slave. All ! I un
derstood not then the doctrine of reconcilia
tion ; that man may acquire again the do
minion over nature, which be lost in the
Fall; that he may again move like the
swan, in freedom and beauty, in his own el
ment.
Sunday in Scotland ’.— Ihe ushering of a
Scotish Sunday morning is iur different from
what every one must have had occasion to
observe—especially in and neat the large
towns in England. There are no shops
half opened till the vCry hour that summons
tile population to its worship—no servants’
work to be done at the doors and windows,
though ever so early—nothing that can re
mind one of the toil of the week, and the
anxiety of the heart after worldly affairs.—
No artizans idling, unwashed, and in their
wot king dress, about the streets, nor any of
those degraded characters who may often
he seen with half a dozen dogs racking their
way to the outskirts of the town for the pur-
I pose of having a morning's sport in rat-hunt
| ing along the ditches. They labor six davs,
i and Saturday night effectually closes the
scene. From sunrise to bread day, the holy
time steals on as quiet as though toil and
the common anxieties of life were never
known. Every care, save the all-important
one, seems laid aside. The calmness of the
atmosphere, tlie repose of the senses from
every sound, and the slow chiming ofthd
! distant hells, seem to speak it to he truly a
j day of rest, when the parent and the child,
the rich and the needy, alike in the presence
of the Creator, observe his appointed time,
and remember the sabbath day to keep it holy.
The colleges on the mountain sides, which
during the week present the very picture of
peaceful industry, are usually on a Sunday
morning shut up and silent, as though, with
i the cessation of all human labor, the inliabi
j tanls had in spirit retired to that peaceful
! world of which a quiet sabbath is so heami
! ful in emblem. But about the hour when
| the village bell begins to toll for the devout
! assembly, then may be seen issuing from the
! bumble cottages which hitherto appeared
SCDUMPiniBIBXI
from tlieir quietness almost uninhabited,
each little family from first to last, all clad
in them best, clean, plain, and homely; but
to the devout and meek, a far more accept
able sight than that gorgeous and costly at
tire which, alti acting all attention to the
pomp of this life, seems to convert the tem
ple of the Most High into a house of earthly
vanity. The elderly clad in sober colors,
becoming tlieir season of life; the young in
simple white, one following another in a
long train along the mountain side, form, to
gether with the place to which their steps
are bending, a subject on which the mind
long dwells with internal satisfaction.
In the evening, while perhaps the nged
—they who ate nigh upon the brink of that
daik ocean of eternity upon which they j
must so soon embark—ate engaged in the )
perusal of that volume which points out
their way to the distant land ; the young, to
whom it is given to rejoice while yet their
day is before them, often walk out on the
hills together or alone, though always w ith
that peaceful demeanor, that total absence
of all tendency to unhallowed mirth, which
bespeaks a heart humble in its strength and
conscious of the service it owes to Hint in
whom rdl is glory and honor.
Thus, peacefully and silently, the night {
again steals down—closing upon a day on j
which ten thousand hearts have been better i
taught their duty to all living. —English pa
per.
The Arrogance es Wealth. —*• The ves
stilage of fashion, w hich is a part of rank, j
prevents continenlally the free expansion of
man’s poweis. Let us have the greatest
diversity of occupations. But this does not
imply that there is need of splitting socie
ty into castes, or ranks, or that a certain
number should atrogato superiority, and
stand opart from the test of men as a sepa
rate race. Men may work in different de
partments of life, and yet recognize their
brotherly relation and honor one another.—
Undoubtedly men may prefer as ft lends
their common associates, those with whom
they sympathise most. But this is not to
fotm u rank or caste. For example, the in
tellectual seek out the intelligence ; I lie pi
ous those who reverence God. But sup
pose the intellectual and religious to nit
themselves off by some bread, visible dis
tinction, from the rest of society, to forma
plan of tlieir own, to refuse admission into
their houses people of inferior knowledge
and virtue, and to diminish as far as possi
ble the occasions of intercourse between
them; would not society tise up, as one
man against this arrogant exclusiveness 1
And if intelligence and piety may not be
the formation of a caste, on what ground
shall they wiioliavenodistinclion hut wealth,
superior costume, tidier equipages, fine
houses, draw lines around themselves as a
higher class 1 That some should he richer
than others is natural, and is necessary, and
could only he prevented by gross violations
of right. Leave men to the Iree use of
tlieir powers, and some will accumulate
mote than their neighbors. But to be pros
perous is not to be superior, end should
form no barrier between men. Wealth.
ought not to secure the prosperous the
slightest consideration. The only distinc
tions which should be recognized at e those
of soul, of strong principle, of incorruptible
integrity, of usefulness, of cultivated intel
lect, of fidelity, of seeking for trill!). A
man in proportion as he has these claims,
should be honored arid welcomed every
where. I see not why such a man, howev
er coarsely, if neatly dressed, should not
be a respected guest at the most splendid
mansion, and at the most brilliant meetings.
A man is worth, infinitely more than saloons,
and costumes of the universe. lie was
made to tread all these beneath his feet.—
What nn insult to humanity in the present
deference to dress and upholstery, as if silk
worms and looms, scissors and needles,
could produce something nobler than man.
Every good man should protest against a
caste founded on outward prosperity,” be
cause it exalts the outward alrove the in
ward; the material above the spiritual; be
cause it springs from and cherishes a con
temptible pride in superior ar.d transitory
distinctions, because it alienates man from
his brother, breaks the tie of common hti
mair'ty and breeds jealousy, scorn and mu
tual ill will.”
Kindncrs. —Kindness is a key which will
unlock the most obdurate heart, which will
penetrate its most secret recesses, unravel
its intricacies, open its inmost depths, and
reveal its hidden mysteries. Threats may
intimidate, harshness nniy grieve, the ap
plication of fear may prompt to action, and
coldness produce energy, but kindness alone
can subdue the heart, purify its affections,
and elicit perfect confidence.
Men may scoff’at power, hid defiance to
threats, scorn control, and laugh at con
tempt, but they cannot withstand the power
of kindness. It lias healed divisions, over
come difficulties, soothed anguish, destroy
ed evil intentions, and effected reconcilia
tions which all other means had failed to ac
complish. The most stubborn heart must
eventually yield to its spirit and be controll
ed by its influence. Kindness is the en
chanting spell which irresistibly draws, and
charms, and conquers all that comes within
its sphere. The efficacy of the principle has
been sufficiently proved—and u hocan doubt
that it is destined to redeem the world.—
Gospel Alesscnger.
Love and Reconciliation. —lt is n glorious
thing—and those who truly love, know well
how glorious it is—after moments of misun
derstanding, even of reciprocal transgress
ion, to rest again, heait to heart, and to feel,
deeply feel that there is a certainty in the
world, in spite of all the powers of hell, a
certainty, which is heaven upon earth—that
they love each other, they belong to each
other, that nothing, nothing in the world
shall separate them, who have found each
other again, in true, in perfect love. O!
this is a certainty, the most beatified that
there is on earth—a certainty, which is the
foundation and security for every other.
He felt it truly, the man, who, when about
to leave the stage of life, laid his hands upon
his heart and said : “ I love, therefore 1 am
immortal!”
TU E IF AKPIE IS •’
From ihe Southern Cultivator.
SMUT IN WHEAT.
Starfordsville, Putnam Cos., )
July 28, 1543. )
Messrs. Editors : —Your paper of the
19tli inst. has just come to hand, in which I
find a communication from your correspon
dent “ H.” of Athens, giving some account
of tlte benefits resulting from solving seed
wheal in a solution of Milestone or strong
utine, and rolled in slack lime, to which 1
wish to add mv experience. And I will
here state that the benefits I have enjoyed
by soaking my seed wheat in a solution of
; Milestone, hove been derived front agricul
■ tural papers—my advantage from this one
piece of information has been worth more
to nte than all the money 1 have ever paid
for agricultural papers.
\ ear before lust I soaked 15 bushels of
my seed wheat ill a solution of Milestone,
anil sowed it in a field as far as it would go;
there being C or S acres of the field left,
which were sown with the same kind of
wheat, the land in about the same order,
l and the wheat equally as well cleaned, hut
| had not been soaked. The result was, the
i wheat that had been soaked was of good
: quality, and clear from blast or smut ; that
| part of the field sowed with the unsnaked
wheat had a considerable quantity of smut
in it. 1 soaked my seed wheat again last
i year in the same kind of solution, anti have
i a nice crop of wheat with not a grain of
t smut in it that I have seen. I did not ioil
j my wheat, after soaking, in lime or any
thing else, and several of my neighbors tri
ed the experiment of soaking the seed
wheat last year with entire success.
The quantity of Milestone used in this
settlement is one pound to every five bush
els of wheat, and the plan has been to put
, the wheat in soak in the evening for the
next day’s sowing ; reserving the water to
put the next wheat in, and then enough
| more with its proportion of Milestone to cn
i ver the wheat. The best plan is to dis
solve the Milestone in a small quantity of
hot water, as it is hard to dissolve in cold
water. If the w eather should become wet
and any of the soaked wheat not sowed, it
may be spread in an out house without any
injury till the ground gets in the right order
for sowing again. I soaked some of my
seed wheat last year 6 or 8 days before it was
sowed. I have no doubt hut rolling the
wheat in lime after if, is nn’advantage, espe
cially when the seed wheat is not as thor
oughly i ipe as it should he, or the ground
the least out of order, and this when it is
too wet to be peifectly ftiable.
I would advise all wheat growers who
are troubled with smut, to try this experi
ment or a similar one. The cost of a trial
is bit trifling, os Milestone costs only 20 to
25 cents per pound.
In concluding this communication, I do
most sincerely advise all wheat growers to
have their seed wheat thoroughly ripe, and
then effectually cleansed with a good seivc.
(aftei being fanned.) letting all the small
grains pass through the seivc, and take all
•he light grains that raise on the top off with
the hand. Should there he any cockel in
the wheat, by using a seive of the right de
scription, it will in a few years he entirely
eradicated.
I am, sirs, vours respectfully,
JOHN FARRAR.
To destroy T 1 oi ms in Callages. —l am
not aware that the following easy and sim
ple method of destroying worms on cab
bage has ever appeared in print. I believe
it was discovered by an unlearned person,
and I hope will not he less efficacious on
that account. As the worms are already
commencing their depredations, it will he
well to publish it scon.
At night, (about sun down,) strip off one
of the lower leaves and lay it on the top of
the cabbage, hack side down. In the morn
ing very early take it ofF, and the whole, or
a large portion of the worms of that cab
bage will he on it. and can be disposed of
as any sees fit. Two or three trials will
effectually free the cabbage from all worms.
I believe it never fails except when tl.e
nights are quite cool. Respectfully,
W. CHANDLER.
r—wgb x\ m m nm wnm—mb—ipbw———m—
MD®©IE[LLAINIY.
The Mocking-Bird of Louisiana. —lt was
at New Orleans, in the month of February,
(the May of Louisiana) my bed-room was on
llie ground floor, the back windows open
ed on a garden where grew a thick grove of
orange trees. On the loftiest of them, some
of whose branches touched the windows,
mocking birds had made their nest, or rather
repaired it, for they had full possession of
t* at garden, in which every year they rear
ed undisturbed their tuneful progeny. The
night was so hot, that unable to sleep, I left
my bed and threw wide open all the win
dows, as to invite the breeze to waft in, to
gether with its own refreshing breath, and
the balmy odors of the orange blossoms
which, like a vernal snow, whitened the
grounds under the trees ; but the breeze
obeyed not my call. There was not motion
enough in the nir even to bend the flexible
stems of the wild oats that grew profusely
in the shady grove. The moon shone
hiiglitly, sending its rays like streams of li
quid topaz through tVie deep verdure of the
trees. The light was equal to winter days
in northern regions ; every object, however
miuiitc, was visible, and even colors in their
lighter lints might he easily distinguished ;
no sound came to ear. The last Lint nois
es of the city now wrapped in sleep, hud
died away some hours before; no sound ex
cept those vague and low vibrations which,
because they are incessant and unvaried,
we, in the poverty of all languages, have
termed silence, and which, however, are pro
duced by the buzzings.hummings, chirpings
of myriads of invisible living things, eacli
one of them taken npatt, and alone unseen,
unheard, hut, together, sending forth indes
cribable harmonies—the deep communing*
of nature with night and solitude. This
concert, if I may so term the silence I have
described, was suddenly interrupted by a
low melody, soft, and at first, Ifair.t, like the
rippling of very distant rivulets. It swel
led gradgdlly, the notes no iorger mingled>
, because distinct and pure as vibrating gold.
It was the male bird, cheering with his song
the vigils of his mate, who sat on her nest,
by patient, assiduous, uninterrupted brood
ing infilteiing her own life into her still
latent offsprings. As if desirous to amuse
only, and fearing to excite deep emotions,
he playfully rehearsed the various notes of
the less gifted songstress of the grove ; now
he echoed and re-echoed the sweet but brief
and ever-repeated warblings of ihennnpn:'-
eille with a sameness of intonation, which,
however true to the nature, would have
been monotonous, hut that arch mimic threw
in his accents, tones, and inflexions that
matked the critic, not the tame reciter.—
‘J hen rnme alternate (for with inimitable
art he kept each part distinct, never once
mingling any two separate songs,) the fa
miliar notes of domestic birds, nay, the hark
ing of dogs, and even the discordant screams
of children. Tired at last with imitating
the burlesque, and ns if intent on doing full
justice to the rivals he was about to van
quish in that feigned contest of melody
with them all, he gave, improved by master
accords of his own, the sweetest notes of the
lark, and the simpler and more touching
warblings of the prairie blackbird; a pause
followed that great effort. It was hut short,
however, and seemed ns if intended to
warn the listners by placing an interval be
tween recitation and improvisation,that now
would flow the full tide of unpremeditated
modulations. But ere lie began, I saw him
in mirthful glee clap his wings of pure
white underneath, save a dark cross on
each of them, visible only when they expan
ded. and which stamp him the true bird of
Paradise, spurn with his light feet the elas
tic hough on which he perched before; aid,
soaring gracefully in arching and alternate
flights from tree to tree, never lighting long
er than a few seconds on any of them, lie
poured out those straints of unrivalled melo
dy, which, alone of all the feathered tribe,
lie can modulate in profuse and endless va
riety.
I now forget all the songs that had pre
ceded ill is song of sortgs ; hymned in accents
so sweet, it had effaced from memory all
sounds hut the lingering, melodious notes
vyliich still filled the air lung after the noble
bird had ceased losing.
A Scene at Dunbarton, (Scotland J. —At
Dunbarton there was a scene as rich as that
from which Sir waiter Scott drew his first
chapter of the Antiquary. Passengers for
Loch Lomond take coach here overtheLoke,
v liich is five miles distant. The quiet town
of Dunbarton was invaded this morning with
an unusual number of visiters, to say noth
ing of dogs, luggage, &c. Extra convey
ances had to be provided. This created
delay. ‘J he “Dunbarton Arms, as well as
the “ Coach for Locli Lomond,” rejoiced in
“Mis. Cutrie” as proprietress. There was
a gentleman with us who, with less perhaps
of natural hostility to “womankind” than
Monkharns, manifested the same testy im
patience that characterized the Antiquary’s
colloquy with ‘ Mrs. Moc.leuchat,” whose
placard assured the public that her coach
for “ Queen’s Ferry” loft Edenborongh
j pioraptly at 9 o’clock This gentleman
first mildly urged “ Mrs. Currie” to hasten
the departure of the coach, which she said
would he “round tothe stand in notime.” Af
ter waiting a few minutes he rang the hell
furiously, jund when the lady made lir ap
pearance the gentleman pointed to the
clock, with the remark that she had kept
him twenty minutes too long, and that if lie
lost the steamer by her means he would not
pay her a baubee for the coach. She re
iterated tl-.e assurance that the coach would
he round to the door by the time the gen
tleman could get down stairs, and then re
treated to her own dominions. The gen
tleman hastened to the door and waited for
a few minutes, when, there being no sign
of tiie coach, he returned to the sitting room,
and again rang the bell. When “Mrs. Cur
rie” appeared, lie assailed her with a volley
of imprecations, and, while threatening her
wilh pains and penalties for interrupting
Iris visit to the Trcssachs, the coachman’s
horn announced that all was “right,” and
the landlady marshalled her excited patron
to the door. But here an unexpected delay
occurred. The testy gentleman’s son was
missing! It was now “Mrs. Currie’s” mo
ment of triumph and revenge ! •* The
coach canna wait, sir. It is o’re late noo.”
“ Bui I cannot leave my son !” “Its nn my
fault that your son is na here.” “ Wait but
a moment. If tin after my son, bov; you
shall get a penny for it.” “ Will you get
intil the coach, sir, or shall I despatch it
without you ? The “Emperor” will he
half v/ay up the Loch before it gets there,
and the gentlemen will miss their vigit tothe
Trossachs.” “1 entreat you to wait but a
minute, Mrs Currie.” “Awa* wi’ your
Mrs. Currie’s; it was but a moment since
ye were misca’ing me an ugly old woman ;
but it is no use clavering hcie. The coach
must be awa. You can wait anithcr day
for your near-do wdl son.” At this critical
moment the young gentleman was seen run
ning towards us with the boy at his heels.—
During this scene the other passengers were
convulsed with laughter, and Mrs. Currie,
while taking her revenge, in great apparent
earnestness, had much difficulty to preserve
the rigidity of her own muscles. It turned
out that the youth had indulged a very nat
ural desire to get a sketch of Dumbarton
Castle, and while engaged in his drawing
had forgotten the coach.
Madder. —Madder is cultivated from setts
or seed roots. It has been cultivated in Eas
tern and Central New Yoik, hut with not
much success. It is usually dug the first
year. In Ohio and the South-western States
it has been found a very profitable crop.
It is used for dying ; and as heretofore im
mense sums have been paid to foreigners
for this article. It is a fit subject for con
gratulation, that the fact is now well estab
lished, that madder is soon to be classed
among the valuable agricult uialstnplesof the
country. About one hundred days are re
quired to the acre, and the crop is various
ly estimated at from three to four hundred
dollars. The Levant or Smyrna madder is
cultivated both in France and England, and
is used for dying cotton Turkey-red— Far
mers’ Advocate.
The Ghost Chile}.- —There are fhose yel
living in this very neighborhood who ie J
member, and relate with an awe which
a century lias not abated, the story of RutFi
Blaye, and the Clbost Child! Ruth was a
young woman, of lively temperament anrf
great personal beauty. While engaged as
a teacher of a school in the little town of
Southampton N. H. (whose hills roughen the
horizon with their showy outline within
view of my window at this very moment)
she was invited to spend the evening at the
dwelling of one of her young associates.
Several persons were present of both sexes.
The sun just sitting, poured its soft rich light
into the apartment. Suddenly, in the midst
of unwonted gaiety, the youg school mis
tress uttered a frightful shriek, and was
gazing with a countenance of intensest hor
ror at the open window ; and pointing with
her rigid, outstretched arm at an object
which drew at once the attention of her
companions. In all the strong light of sun
set lay upon the sill of the open casement,
a dead infant—visible to all for a single
moment, and •vanishing before the gazers
could command words to express their
amazement. The wretched Ruth was the
first to break the silence. “It is mine, my
ciiii.b 1 she shrieked; he has come for mej”
She gradually became more tranquil, but
no effort availed to draw from her the terri
ble secret which was evidently connected
with the apparition. She was soon after
arrested, and brought to trial for the crime
of child murder, found guilty and executed
at Portsmouth, N. H. Ido not, of course,
vouch for the truth of this story in all res
pects. “ 1 tell the.story as ‘i was told to me.”
— J. G. Whittier, Dorn. Rev.
Female Masons. —Half a century am>
there were two Masonic Lodges' con -
posed of females, in Faris, which are thus
described by an English traveler.- They
were called by the pretty, and we presume,
appropriate appellations of Candour and
Fidelity. Says our author, “w e attended
one of these—of which the Dutchess de
Bourbon is grand mistress—some years
ago, at the reception of a sister; and were
highly pleased to find (lie utmost diguity
and docornm prevail ; n most splendid cs-.
semhlnge of Brothers arid Sisters, of rank
and fasTiion, attended the ceremony, which
was awful, solemn and impressive; the de
corations of the apartments, which are sit
uated in a large building, appropriated sole
ly to this purpose, were extii-mely biilliant.
Eloquent and suitable orations were deliv
ered on the occasion ; ami when the serious
business of the lodge was over, a play, a
supper and a ball, terminated the amuse
ments of the night,”
O
Singular. Electrical Phenomenon —An
English traveller through the Alps of Sa
voy, whose work is recently published, thus
describes certain remarkable sounds caused
by elcctr icily :
The atmosphere was very turbid, the
ground was covered with half melted snow,
arid some hail began to fall. We were
perhaps 1,500 feet below the Col, still about
9,000 above the sen, when 1 noticed a curi
ous sound, which seemed to proceed from
the Alpine pole with which I was walking.
1 asked the guide next me whether ho heard
it, and what he thought it was. The mem
bers of that fraternity are very Laid push
ed, indeed, when they hove not b;i answer
ready for any emergency. He therefore
replied, with great coolness,that the rustling
oft he stick no don hr proceeded from a worm
eating the wood in the interior ! This an
swer did not appear to be satidurtoiy, and
I therefore r.pplied the experimentum ern
cis, of reversing the stick, so that the point
was now upermost. The worm was alrea
dy at the other end ; 1 next held my hand
above my head, and my fingers yielded a
fizzing sound. There could he hut one ex
planation ; we were so near a thunder
cloud as to be highly electrified by induc
tion. I soon perceived that all the angular
stones were hissing round us, like points
near a powerful electrical machine. I told
my companions of our situation, and beg
ged Damatter to lower his umbrella, which
lie had now resumed, ami hoisted against
the hail shower, and whose gay brass point
was likely to become the parntonnerre of
the party. The words were scarcely out of
my mouth when a clap of thunder, accom
panied by lightning justified my precaution.
Eloquent -pleafor Education. —Let those
whose wealth is lost or jeopardized by fraud
or mismanagement ; let those who quake
with apprehension for the foie of all they
hold dear—let those who behold and lament
the desecration of all that is holy—let rulers
whose counsels are perplexed, whose plaus
are baffled, whose laws arc defiled or eva
ded—let them all know, that whatever ills
they feel or fear, are but the just retribution
of a righteous heaven for a neglected child
hood.
Remember, then, the child whose voice
first lisps to-day. before that voice shall
whisper sedition in secret, or thunder trea
son at the bead of nn armed band. Re
member the child whose hand to-dav first
lifts its tiny bauble, before that hsud shall
rentier firebrands, ai rows and death. Re
member those sportive gmur, s rj youth in
whose halcyon bosoms there sfceps an ocean,
as vet scarcely ruffled by ‘,he passions, which
soon shall heave it. ti 9 w j t |, the'tempest’s
strength. Remerymer that whatsoever sta
tion in life yog till, these immortals are your
core. Devote, expend, concentrate your
selves to the holy work of their improve
ment. Tour out light and ttuth, as God
pours out sunshine and rain. No longer
seek knowledge as the luxury of a few, but
dispense it among all us the bread of lifo.—
Learn only how the ignorant may be pre
served—the vicious reclaimed.
True Hearted Women. —After the unfor
tunate accident on the Susquehanna Rail
road, a demand having been made for splints
to hind up the wounds of the sufferers, to
the honor of the ladies be it said a supply
came prompt as the demand, from the car
they occupied, in the shape of the usu&l bone
and wood supporters of their corsets. Thus
furnished, the medical gentlemen were en
abled to render such effectual aid to the
wounded, as justified their removal to the
car which had been prepared for them.