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VOLUME 11. | BY C. R. IIANLEITER. IP © E ¥ ft Y. DARK EYED BEAUTY OF THE SOUTH. Dark Eyed beauty of the South ! Mistress of the rosy mouth! Doth my heart desert its duty 7 Doth thy blood belie thy beauty 7 Art thou false, and art thou cold 7 Art thou sworn to wed for gold ? On thy forehead sitteth pride. Crowned with scorn and falcon-eyed ; But beneath, methinks, thou twincst Silken smiles tiiat seem divinest. Can such smiles be false and cold? Canst thou—wilt thou wed for go|d ? We, who dwell on Northern earth, Fill the frozen air wi th mirth, — Soar upon the wings of laughter, (Though we droop the moment after;) But, through all our regions cold, None will sell their hearts for gold. CHARLES WILLETT; A Tale of the Revolution. BV ROBERT HAMILTON. Those who have ever traced that beauti ful stream the Wissaliicon, from its source ’till its junction with the Schuylkill will ac knowledge that for romantic and sylvan scenery, its hanks cannot he surpassed in the Union. T the very water’s edge, they are clothed in all the luxuriance of wood, shrub and flow ret; while here and there, a verdant valley hursts upon the eye through which some chrysta! rivulet wench its way, and where the labors of the husbandman are seen crowned with plenty. In the ear ly settlement of the state, these lovely val leys were selected by the hold pioneers, and the old Dutch cottage with its numerous ap purtenances of strong built barns, stables imd other offices on which more labor and care were expended than on the residence •of the owner, are yet to be seen, and even where the hand of modern improvement has constructed elegant and commodious mansions, the ruins of the original dwellings are allowed to remain from a superstitious feeling that the genius of prosperity would depart with their removal. In one of these valleys, when the war of Independence was first waged, there dwelt a man who had numbered some fifty sum mers, by vocation a miller. His cottage stood a little way from the brink of a rivu let, in the midst of a garden, which display ed the qualities of utility and beauty, min istering as much to the gratification of the eye in its floral treasures as to the domestic uses of its owner. Peter Schuyler, for such was the miller’s name, had an only daugh ter, by name Ellen, who in early life had been deprived by death of her mother, but under the fond and watchful protection of her father, had strived at womanhood, and among the maidens of her own immediate neighborhood, was named “ the Rose of Beauty.” At the period of our story, the •tate of Pennsylvania was but thinly settled, and the blacksmith’s shop in the adjacent village or the mill of Schuyler was the gen eral rendezvous of the inhabitants to hear and discuss the matters of the nation.— Among the very constant visitors at the mill, was Charles Willett, a young farmer, who had won the affections of Ellen, and with the consent of her father the day was ap pointed for the celebration of their nuptials. The war, however, had assumed so formi dable an aspect, that every true lover of his country who could shoulder a musket ea gerly rushed to join the ranks of the patri ots, and Charles, with the advice and wish of Schuyler, deemed it prudent that the nuptial ties should he deferred until the emancipation or subjugation of America was decided. With a fortitude worthy of a daughter of liberty, Ellen willingly consent ed to the proposal, nay, with the patriotic spirit which universally pervaded both sex es in those days which 44 tried the souls of men,” she boldly avowed, she would remain for ever in maiden loneliness, if it pleased God that her lover should die in defence of his native country. We will not dwell upon the parting of she lovers. If it were tender, it was, how ever, made subservient to the calls of pru dence and patriotism, and on a lovely piorniug of June. 1776, Charles Willett de- I juried from his home to serve under the japtjer of American Independence. El- Jeif’s father, despite of his years, would gladly have accompanied him, but there was no one to whom he could confide the safety of his daughter, and he was there fore compelled to refrain from partnking in the struggle ; yet he was not altogether dormant or uninterested in tho glorious cause, and frequently by secret assistance contributed materially to the patriots’ aid ’till success ultimately crowned their ef forts. Jn the first battle, in which Charles was engaged, bo so bravely distinguished him self, as to win the favorable notice of Wash ington, and when the conflicting armies marched into Pennsylvania, he was select ed hy tho General from his acquaintance of the country, in reconnoitering and procur ing information, respecting the movements of the enemy. It so happened that the ground then occupied by the British forces, embraced fiis own home and that of Schuy* & jF'TttiUs Jlclueijapev : Brtootetr to Hitcrature, Egricuiture, JHerfianfce, iForclgn anti BowestCc Intelligence, &rc. ler, and with the natural feelings of a lover, Charles anxiously desired an opportunity to see and converse with his betrothed, but so closely were the movements of the Ameri cans regarded, that all his attempts were frustrated. But what can damp a lover’s ardor? and Charles,one evening, determin ed at all hazards to pass to the abode of Schuyler. It was in the latter part of October, when the trees were surrendering their foliage to the blast and the turf was assuming the im press of decay. The night was dark and silent, not a star twinkled in the firmament, while the low, melancholy moaning of the wind among the almost leafless forests soun* ded as if the spirit of nature was sighing over the grave of the departed year. Ha bited as a plain yeoman, he left the camp, and threading the Woods hy paths Well known to him from his boyhood, he gained the banks of the Wissahicon, that river be ing then the barrier between the hostile ar mies. The autumnal floods had swollen its waters, no boat, no bridge, was near for ma ny miles, and his heart for a moment failed him, as ho heard the sullen flow, and plain ly discovered the foam-covered surface of the river. But the immage of his love rose before him and 41 accoutred as he was,” he fearlessly consigned himself to the element. Having reached the shore, he cautiously proceeded to the cottage. As he neared it all was silent, the monotonous and meas ured pacing of the sentinels was the only sound that broke the stillness of the hour, and for some minutes he stood breathless and irresolute. How to apprize them of his presence lie ceuld not divine, so closely was every spot around the dwelling guaid ed hy the pickets of the enemy. At length he remembered that an old negro was in the habit of sleeping in the mill, and thith er he directed his course with the intention of making him the instrument of secretly informing Ellen and her father of his arri val. The old creature being so suddenly awakened in the still watches of midnight, thought the enemy, or—-what was in those times more dreaded, the Indians, had come to murder him, and consequently lie gave vent to his terrors in not the lowest of tones. “Hush! be no: alarmed—don’t you know me, Sambo ? Charles Willett, your old friend,” whispered Charles. The old man’s fears were silenced in a moment as he tittered—“Oh! Massa Charles, Massa Charles, how happy will him Missus Ellen be to see her own dear loiter again, and so will Massa Schuyler— but stay, me cannot see de boy, him shall go get light and— “ Hush, speak lower, mv kind fellow,” said Charles, “ remember we are in the en emy's camp—spies may be near 11s.” ” There are,” shouted a voice, at the same moment, the shade was drawn from 3 dark-lantern, and a full glare of light illu minated the interior of the mill, showing to Charles and the afl’rightened Sambo, the athletic figure of a British soldier. “ You are my prisoner, my fine fellow,” said the soldier. “ I though) l heard a foot step upon the sward. What seek you here ?” 44 That which concerns not you,” replied Charles, his young heart swelling with in dignation at the insolence of the foreign myrmidon. ••Ah, ha? we shall see that, my young imp of rebellion. If you be, as I suspect you are, a spy of the rebels, a short shrift and a lofty gallows are in waiting for yon.” Charles could no longer brook the inso lence of the soldiei, but springing upon him, a scuffle ensued, in which the musket of the latter was discharged—the guard was alarmed, the drum heat to arms, and the next moment the mill was surrounded hy troops of soldiery. The inmates of the cottage thus startled from their slumbers, rushed to the scene.— The surprise and feelings of Schuyler and his daughter may be easily imagined, when they beheld in the full glare of toich-light, Charles, a prisoner in the hands of the ene my. He breathed not a word, but bis look at Ellen bespoke the sorrow of his soul. 44 Charles—Charles Willett,” frantically exclaimed the poor girl, and the next mo ment she fell senseless in the arms of her fa ther. Under a strong escort, he was conducted before the commanding officer, by whom he was strictly interrogated, but he would not deign to otter a word of reply. His person, however, was plainly identified by several witnesses from among his neighbors, who were too terrified hy the threats of their en emies not to reveal all they knew of him. Poor Charles, thus proved beyond doubt a spy, was condemned to death—yet in mer cy, a respite was granted to him of twenty four hours to make his peace with his God. At the morning muster in the patriot camp, his absence was discovered, and as he was a brave and efficient soldier, and above all an especial favorite of the Gener al, it created no little commotion and regret. A thousand surmises were afloat as to the cause of his absence, but the true one was not suspected until the appearance of Ellen, worn and distracted at the camp. Agener al burst of indiguation was the reply to her tidings, and there was not a heart but would willingly have sprang to the rescue of their companion. One thing was however certain—no time was to be lost. The following morning would behold the execution of Willett, un MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 11, 184:3. less some bold effort were made for his pre servation. Yet bow could it be accomplish ed ? All access to the prisoner was debar red, and the utmost vigilance was observed by both armies in the defence of their re spective positions. Moreover, the prisoner Was confined in the heart of the British camp, and all attempts at rescue would he only attended with discomfiture. Poor El len found in every American bosom deep commisserution, but not a ray of hope pene trated the the darkness of her soul, and sick with despair she retraced her steps to her father’s dwelling, resolving if possible to share the last moments of her lover. When she departed on her return home, the shaddows of twilight Were gathering around the world, the breeze sighed mourn fully, and the leaves fell from the sapless branches of the forests, apt emblems of her own blighted hopes. She paused for a mo ment on the hanks of a little rivulet—it was a spot sacred in her remembrance, for there she had received the first fond avowal of the love of Charles, the tears gushed from her eyes, and in the agony of her heart she fell upon her knees and supplicated the Al mighty for fortitude in the hour of trial. When she arose from her devotion, she was surprised at the sight of a man who stood at a short distance from her, regard ing her with respectful silence. She would have fled from his presence, but he prevent ed her .by mildly exclaiming—“ Stay, my pretty maiden, you have nothing to fear from ft me. The stranger who thus addressed her, was a tall and commanding individual, habit ed in the military costume of the period combining in his person the qualities of grace, strength, and majesty ; his eye was bright and penetrating —around his mouth played a smile in which was blended benev olence with firmness; while his high and ample forehead, as lie respectfully saluted Ellen, completed a form on which the Al mighty seemed to have “eel his seal to give the. world assurance of a man.” 44 Your name is Ellen Schuyler?” lie continued in the blandest of lories. “ It is, sir !” said Ellen, almost inaudibly, so surprised was she at the stranger’s sud den appearance and knowledge of her name. “And you are the betrothed of Charles Willett 1” Ellen started—he proceeded— -44 You are, 1 have heard so—l have also heard he is now in the bands of the ene > my. “ Alas ! alas !” exclaimed Ellen, passion ately, “ can nothing be done to save him ? you. Sir, have the aspect of a good man— in your look is compassion, and in your voice are the tones of mercy. Say, Sir. can you devise no means whereby be can be rescued. lam but a poor weak woman ; neither my strength, sex, or my situation can avail me aught. Charles, my dear Charles ! if he dies, the snows of winter will fall upon my grave;” and the poor girl fell at his feet and sobbed convulsively. He gently raised her from the ground, and essayed to calm her sorrows, but the tear was glistening in his own eye, and he turned aside and wept. 44 Father of mer cies,” said he, fervently, 44 if it be Thy will, let this cup of sorrow pass from the maiden! then turning to Ellen, he continued, “my good girl, place your trust in that power which never forsakes the virtuous. Your lover may yet he saved.” 44 Oh ! blessings on you for that gleam of hope. But how—when ? remember but a few hours longer he is permitted to exist by bis enemies.” 44 That secret remains with me. I will promise nothing. lam but an humble in strument in the hands of my Creator, and if I succeed, to Him be the glory of the act, not me. But lose no time in reaching your home; the night is closing upon us. Fare well ! Pray to God for His assistance— He will not desert you—again farewell !” Ellen invoked a blessing on bis bead, and mournfully pursued her path. The stran ger looked around him cautiously to see if no one was near, then slightly sounding a small whistle, art Indian sprang from a thick et, and stood before him. “You will remember my instructions ?” said he. The Indian proudly bowed bis head in assent. 44 Enough—l know I can tiust you —remember?” and the stranger walked quickly away, while the Indian dart ed into the forest. The morning dawned in all the loveliness ofan American fall, a season which, fornatur al beauty, is not unsurpassed in any coun try. The dews of night hung like diamonds on every tree, shrub, or yet blooming flow eret. The matin hymns of the feathered snngstets made the air one voice of music. The sun was majestically ascending the vault of heaven, bathing in liquid glory ev ery object of the landscape, the streams were leaping and rejoicing in their course —all nature looked glad and beauteous even as when God rested from his labor, and pronounced 44 it was very good.” The prisoner was conducted early to the spot appointed for his execution. Ellen, who, to the credit of the commanding offi cer, had been allowed to share the last hours of her lover’s existence, was, with difficulty, parted from him. Her screams were heard throughout the camp, and not a heart but felt for her situation. Charles alone appeared to be unmoved. His cheek blanched not, nor did a muscle tremble in his frame. Firmly did be march forward until the scaffold met his eye. Before his judge he had stood boldly, and contemned all threats—he hud heard his sentence un moved, and at the summons to meet his fate had passed forth without a shudder or a sigh, but now his heart for an instant failed him, tears dimmed his vision, and a love of life for a moment unmanned him, lint quick as thought his spirit resumed its wonted se renity, and he prepared for death with firm ness that Won for him the admiration and pity of his very executioners. * 44 Are you ready, Sir ?” asked the offi cer in command. 44 1 am !” replied Charles, in a tone of calm and manly fortitude, ar.d, although pinioned, he prepared, without assistance, to ascend the platform. 44 If you have ar.srht to communicate— any dying wish which you would desire to have executed, I promise you, sir, if in my power, and consistent with my duty, to per foim it,” said the officer, with great feeling and respect. 44 You are generous, s'r, and although an enemy, yet I feel I may trust you. I have one request to make—one wish 1 desire may be fulfilled, It is this, that you will seek out—Ellen—that—-you-—” but his feelings stifled his utterance, and, for the first time, before his enemies, he betrayed the weakness of humanity. 44 It is, sir. that you will seek out Ellen Schuyler, and tell her that my last thought was of her—my last prayer was for her happiness. Take her this, sir ; it is the ring I should have placed upon her finger at the altar, but death now claims me for its victim. Tell her to wear it sot the sake of him who tru ly loved her, who—l can speak no more.— Oh, God ! Oh, God ! Why hast thou for saken me” —and he wept aloud, while not an eye but was as moist as his own. “ Have yon aught else to say, sir ?” “ I have. Bear witness, Heaven, that my last words are—Freedom to my country —Death to her tyrants ! May—” He would have added more, hut on a sig nal from the officer, the rolling of the drum drowned his voice, and the provost marshal proceeded to execute the sentance. On a sudden the ail was rent with savage yells mingled with the report of rifles. The sol diers around the prisoner dropped in every direction, and, from an adjacent wood, a band of Indians rushed upon, and ovetpow ered the astonished remainder. At the same moment, the stranger, already men tioned, cut the cords which bound the arms of Willett. “Mount!” shouted he. “Mount Wil lett, and ride for your life and liberty !” and in his hand he held a noble steed, saddled and bridled. ” General Washington !” exclaimed Charles, in astonishment. “ Hush, sir! do as I order you !” Swift as an arrow Willett leaped to the saddle, and together they disappeared in the depths of the forest, followeded by the Indians, who protected their retreat. 44 Bv Heaven !’’ cried the British officer, 44 it is the arch-traitor himself—pursue ! A thousand guineas to the man who secures him dead or alive !” The drum beat to arms—and the soldiers advanced iri pursuit, when another volley from the rifles of the Indians caused them to stagger. 44 Forward, I say !” shouted the officer in a voice of rage and disappoint ment. “Down with them copper-colored rascals !” The skirmish now became hot and bloody, but the Indians suffered little or no loss, being well accustomed to the bush mode of warfare. In the meantime the alarm spread throughout the camp, troops were despatched in every direction after the fugitives, but in vain—Chailes, well acquainted with the country, conduct ed Washington and himself through paths unknown to any but a native, and in twenty minutes from his rescue, they were both safe within the American lines. For the Indians, they easily eluded their enemies among the intricacies of the forests, and re turned to Washington to receive the re ward he had promised them in the event of their attempt of rescuing Willett proving successlul. We will not lengthen our narrative, wiili a minute detail of the joy it imparted to El len, her father and the relatives of Willett, as well as to his companions in arms, and of the admiration it won for Washington for his generous and daring conduct. Suf fice it lossy, that in all the battles, up ’till the achievement of American Indepen dence, Charles acted a brave and faithful part ; then, having exchanged the sword for the sickle, he returned to his native home. Time and warfare had dor.e much to change its appearance, but Ellen was unaltered—her heart was pure and virtu ous as ever, and the ring which he had en trusted to the officer when on the brink of eternity, (and which that officer hod faith fully delivered to Ellen,) was placed hy Charles on her finger on the day lie pressed her to his manly bosom, his own loving and true hearted wife. THE SOUL IN PURGATORY, Or, Love stronger than Death. BY E. L. BULWER. The angels strung their harps in Heaven, and their music went up like a stream of odours to the pavilions of tue Most High ; but the harp of Serafim was sweeter than that of his fellows, and the voice of the In visible One (for llm angels themselves know not the glories of Jehovah—only fur in the depths of Heaven they see ofie Unsleeping Eye watching for ever over the creation) Was heard saying, “ Ask a gift for the love that burns upon thy song, and it shall be given thee.” And Sernlim answered, 44 There are in that place which men call Purgatory, which is the escape from Hell, but the painful porch of Heaven, many souls that adore thee, and yet are punished justly for their sins ; grant me the boon to visit them at times, and solace their suffering hy the hymns of the harp that is consecrated to Thee!” And the voice answered, 44 Thy prayer is heard, O, gentlest of the angels ! and it seems good to him who chastises but from love. Go! Thou hast thy will.” Then the angel sang the praises of God ; and when the song was done, he rose from his azure throne at the right band of Gi briel, and spreading bis rainbow wings, flew to that melancholy orb, which, nearest to earth, echoes with the shriek of souls that hy torture become pure. There the un happy ones see from afar the bright courts they are hereafter to obtain, and the shapes of glotious beings who, fresh from the mountains of immortality, walk amidst the gardens of Paradise, and feel that their hap piness hath no morrow ; and this thought consoles amidst their torments, and makes the true difference between Purgatory and Hell. Then the angel folded his wings, and entering the crystal gates, sat down up on a blasted rock, and struck his divine lyre, and a peace fell over the wretched ; the de mons ceased to torture, and the victims to wail. As sleep to the mourners oftbe earth was the song of the angel to the souls of the purifying star; only one Voice amidst the general stillness seemed not lulled by the angel; it was the voice of a woman, and it continued to cry out with a sharp cry— “ Oh, Adenheim, Adeuheim, mourn not for the lost I” The angel struck chord after chord, till its most skilful melodies were exhausted ; but still the solitary voice cried out, 44 Oh, Adenheim, Adenheim, mourn not for the lost!” Then Serafim’s inteiest was aroused, and approaching the spot whencethe voice came, lie saw the spirit of a young and beautiful girl chained to a rock, and the demons ly ing idly by. And Seralim said to the de mons, 44 Doth the song lull ye thus to rest ?” And they answered, “ Her care for ano ther is bitterer than all our tot merits ; there fore we are idle.” Then the angel approached the spirit, and said, in a voice which stilled her cry— for in what state do we outlive sympathy ? 44 Wherefote, O daughter nf earth, where fore wailest thou with the same plaintive wail ? and why doth the harp, that soothes the most guilty of thy companions, fail in its melody with thee ?” 44 Oh, radient stranger,” answered the poor spirit, “ thou speakest to one who on earth loved God's creature more than God ; therefore is she justly sentenced. But I knowthnt my poor Adenheim mourns cease lessly for me. and the thought of his sorrow is more intolerable to tne than all that the demons can inflict.” “ And how knnwest thou tiiat he laments thee !” asked the angel. “ Because I know with what agony I should have mourned for him,” replied the spit it simply. The divine nature of the angel was touch ed ; for love is the nature of the sons of Heaven. 44 And how,” said he, 44 can I minister to thy sorrows ?” A transport seemed to agitate the spirit, and she lifted up her mist-like and impalpa ble arms, and ctied, “Give me, 0 give me to return to earth, hut for one little hour, that 1 may visit my Adenheim ; and that, concealing from him my present sufferings, 1 may comfort him in his own.” 44 Alas!” said the angel, turning away his eyes—for angels may not weep in the sight of others —“ I could, indeed, grant thee this boon, but thou knowest not the penalty ; for the souls in purgatory may re turn to earth, but heavy is the sentance that awaits their return. In a word, for one hour on earth, thou must add a thousand years to the tortures of thy confinement here !’’ Is that all!” cried the spirit; “ willing ly, then, will I brave the doom. Oh! sure ly they love not in heaven, or thou wouldst know, O celestial visitant! that one hour of consolation to the one we love is worth a thousand ages of torture to ourselves ! Let me comfort and convince my Adenheim— no matter what becomes of me.’’ Then the angel looked on high, and he saw in far-distant regions, which in that orb none else could discern, the rays that part ed from the all-guarding Eye, and heard the voice of the Eternal One bidding him act as his pity whispered. He looked on the spir it, and her shadowy arms stretched plead ingly towards Inm; he uttered the word that looses the bars of the gate of Purgato ry, atul lo! the spirit had entered the hu man world. It was night in the halls of the lord of Adenheim, and he sate at the head of his glittering board ; loud and long was the laugh and the merry jest that echoed round, and the laugh and In* jest of the lord of j NUMBER 33, WM. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR. Adenheim were louderaud merrierthan all; mill by his right aide safe a Iteautiful lady, and, ever and nnnn, he tnrned fiom othef* to whisper soft vows in her ear. “ And, oh/’ said the bright dame of Fal kenberg, “ thy worda what ladye can he* lieve ? Didst thou not niter she mme nathn to Ida, the fair daughter of Laden; and now but three little months have closed up on her grave ?” “ By my halidom,” quoth the young lorcF of Adenheim, “ thou dost thy beauty mar vellous injustice. Ida ! nay, thou mockest me ! I love the daughter of Laden ! Why, how then should lbe worthy thee? A few gay worda, a few passing smiles—beheld all the love Adenheim ever boro to Ida.— Was it my fault if the poor fool miscon strued such courtesy ? Nay, dearest lady r this heart is virgin to thee.” “ And what!” said the lady of Falken berg, as she suffered the arm of Adenheinrt to encircle her slender waist, “didst thou not grieve for her loss ?” “ Why, verily, yes, for tho first week ‘ but in thy bright eyes I found ready conso lation.” At this moment the lord of Adt?nlieim’ thought he heard a deep sigh behind him ; he turned, but saw nothing, save a slight mist that gradually vanished in the distance. Where Was the necessity for Ida to reveal herself? ******* “ And thou didst not, then, do thine er rand to thy lover I” said Seralim, as the wronged Ida returned to Purgatory. “Recommence the torture,” was poor Ida’s answer. “ And was it for this that thou hast added a thousand years to thy doom ?” *• Alas !” answered Ida, “after the single hour I have endured on earth, there seems to me but little terrible in a thousand years of Purgatory! Tempera we Statistics. —We gather from the report of the Executive Committeof the American Temperence Union, at its late Anniversary in New York, the following, items: “ The reformed men have almost invari ably adhered to their pledges, and become worthy members of society. The societies have been maintained with great spirit, and their lectures have often shown an ability, zeal and preseverance which have excited universal adrniintion. The number of or ganizations and pledged members now in the United Sta'es it is impossible to estimate. Few towns are without societies, and every person wiihin the limits able to write hi#or her name has signed the pledge. “ The temperance reformation has been instrumental in saving not less than halt a million of our citizens from degradation and ruin—has restored more than 100,OOOdrunk ards—lies dried up the fountains of pauper ism in a great degree—has made the poor rich—the wretched happy, and the idle in dustrious. It has greatly diminished crime, as has been certified by eminent judges in various portions of the land, os well as by reports of State prisons in several of the States. In Massachusetts of 148 discharged prisoners who signed the pledge, but three have been re-committed. It has given the death blow to the traffic in ardent spirits. “A strong feeling has been excited against the license system —two thirds of the inland lake trade is now carried on with out ardent spirits—many of our vessels on the ocean now sail with no spirituous liquor except in the medicine chest—it has pene trated the army and navy, in spite of the curse of the service, the spirit ration—it has added greatly to the wealth of the nation— every department of honest industry, every police office, every school, every military company has felt its operation, and has sid ed the cause of piety and true religion throughout the land. “The report alluded then to foreign lands; to Ireland, where six millions have received the pledge; to England, Scotland, and Wales, where the progress of the cause is highly cheering—though few of the nobility and even clergy have taken part in it; to Canada wlieie 10,000 have received iis benefits. Bermuda, Nova Scotia and Hay ti; to Sweeden where 50,000 peisona have received the pledge; to Norway whose par liament resolved that after ten years there shall not he a distillery in the land ; to Af rica, to Polynesia, and especially the Sand wich lalands, whose king, with all his chief*, and 1,500 of the population, have signed the pledge, and where the king lately addressed 1,400 children, and exhorted them to sign the pledge.” Desperate Villain. —“ There is now prowling about our city, one of the moat daring and heariless scoundrels that ever went “unvvhipt of justice.” He is sometimes seen in the houses of our most wealthy citi zens, and he ir.gratitates himself into* the friendship and regard of the amiable and lovely female s, and whenever he can he ea snares them in his toils, and brings upon them wretchedness and ruin. We often see him in the company of our enterprising young men, whom he often lures to Ihe gambling table and to the house of infamy* -—until “their feet take hold on hell.*’ We call upon all good citizens to be sp on their watch for this violator of the rights of man, this rubber of human happiness^—