Newspaper Page Text
POSTP.T.
I pon his departure from England, Lord Byron wrote
the following beautiful and tender verses, which may
well stand in comparison with the celebrated lines on
n similar subsequent occasion,—“ Fare thee well, aud if
forever.”
*Tis done! and shivering in the pale
The hark unfurls her snowy sail;
And whistling o’er the bended mast,
Loud sings on high the fresb’ning blast;
And I must from this land be gone,
Because I cannot love but one.
But conld I be what I have been,
And could I sec what I have ncrn—
Could 2 repose upon the breast
Which once my warmest wishes blest,
1 should not seek another zone
Because I cannot love but one.
*Tis long since I beheld that eye
Which gave rne bliss or misery;
And I have striven, but in vain,
Never to think of it again:
v For though I fly from Albion
I still can only love but one.
As some tone bird without a mate,
My weary heart is desolate;
f look around, and cannot trace
One friendly smile, or welcome face:
And even »n crowds I’m still alone,
Because I cannot love hut one.
And I will cross the whitening foam.
And I will seek a foreign home:
Tiff I forget a false fair face
1 ne'er shall find a renting place :
My own dark thoughts I cannot shun,
Rut ever love, and love but one.
The poorest, veriest wretch on earth
Still finds Komo hospitable hearth,
Wlwre friendship's or love’s softer glow
May smile in joy or so >lh his wo;
But friend or lover I have none,
Because I cannot love but one.
I go! but wheresoe’er I flee
There’s not an eye will weep for me,
Thera's not a kind, congenial heart,
Where I can claim the meanest part.
Nor thon, who hast my hopes undone,
Wilt sigh, although I love but one.
To think of every early scene—
Of what wo are, and what we’ve been—
Would whelm some softer hearts w ith wo;
But mine, alas! has stood the blow,
Vet still beats on as it begun
And never truly loves but one.
And who tllat dear, lov’d one, inay be,
Is not for vnlger eyes to see:
And why that love was early cross’d
Thou know’st the best—I feel the most:
But few that dwell beneath the sun
Havo lov’d so long, and leyv'd but one,
I've tried another's fetters, too,
W f »th clio?ms, perchance, as fair to view;
Ar*i 1 would fain have lov’d as well—
But some unconquerable spell
Forbade my bleeding breast to own
4 kindred care for aught hut one.
'Twould soothe to take one ling’ring view,
And bless thee in my last adieu;
Vet wish I not these cye9 to weep
Vnr Kim who wanders o'er the iloep—
Though whersoo’er my bark may run
1 love but thee—I love but one.
REMINISCENCES.
Spooking of hot summer,, dry weather and
thunderstorms, reminds us of the recollections
of the summer of 1785, in Norfolk, as wo
have heard them recounted by sumo of our el
der inhabitants—a summer which, so tar as
their experience enables them to deride, has
owned no equal. A continued drought pre
vailed during the whole of the month of June
of that year, and if. haply Ihero was a momen
tary sprinkle of rain, it immediately ascended
tVom the hot and parched earth in steamy va
por, as if the drops had fallen on heated iron :
mid if tlicro was a passing current of air in the
fervid sun-shino, it was felt like a pufT of heat
from the mouth of an oven. Yet every day
the suffering sons of Terra wore tantalized
with the promise of a copious shower; broken
promise, alas I for no genial drop descended
from the lowering heavens. The sky, indeed,
was, for a time, overcast with black and heavy
clouds, hut they emitted no stream, save that
of the electric fluid, which pierced, us it were,
in rapid succession, the lurid curtain of the
shies, wakening the awful thunder. Ccrtcs,
thu thunder and lightning wore so terrible at
these times that well might that wretch “ trem
ble,” who “ had within him undivulged crimes
unwHpped of justice”; and all who witnessed
ttic angry face and voico of the perturbed and
gloomy heavens, might readily enough have
conceived the idea which the mad poet, Nat
Lee, has made one of his heroes utter : “ The
gods above are angry and talk big."
But though the heavens frowned upon the
oarth in dark and solemn mujosty, threatening
it with a general inundation—and tho lightning
gleamed and the thunder rolled in awful gran
deur,—the clouds wept not—but breaking into
u dark grey fleece, whirled their way to the
north-east, and sunk below the horizon, drv as
they came, 'the lightning played no longer, and
iho thunder was hushed in stilliness. Then
followed, howeyer, the evening’s sea-breezo—
kind boon of Providence to tho good old Bo
rough ! fanning and refreshing exhausted na
ture, and affording to the distilled and parboil
ed sufferers of the day’s heat, a foretaste of
Elysium.
• On such a day as wo havo attempted to de
scribe, a countryman called at tho store of a
respectable merchant, (now no more,) on
Main-street, near where tho Post-Office is
now kept, to purchase a barrel of Pork, which,
having bargained for, a lad in the store was
scat with him to the warehouse to deliver it.
The warehouse was situated on one of the
newly made wharvos on the *h sido of the
river of Slicks, (query, Styxl) now Union
street, ebout 150 yards m the rear of the store,
probably near the site of the present U. States’
Custom House.
Perhaps we should here remark, that Nor-
fhlk, at that time, was just rising, Phoenix-like,
from her sshes, in which she had lain since
the ever memorable era of the 1st of January,
Ci'iG, when friends aud foes combined to re
duce her to that melancholy condition. The
houses were few and far between; quiie sparse,
and of humble dimensions. In a word, the
progress of building and improvement kept an
unequal pace with the rapid strides of her com
mercial prosperity, and the merchants were
hut indifferently accommodated with store
room for their merchandize nnd produce, being
frequently compelled to shed it, and even at
times In leave it under watch in the open air.
Hence it will .not seem as nbs"rd as it proved
to he unfortunate, that in the warehouse which
contained tho poik of our merchant, there
should have been stored nearly 300 kegs of
<:unpowder, over the cellar beams, on a floor
ing of whip and cross-cut sates I The danger
to be apprehended from tho association of these
coagents of destruction, perhaps never occu
pied the mind of the merchant, who no doubt
was too busy counting his gains to calculate
nhout casualties.
And before wo permit the countryman nnd
the youth who was scut with him to shew the
pork, to set out on their errand, we must inform
the reader, that the diurnal thunder cloud was
just then lowering over the town, flashing and
crashing at a dreadful rate. They proceeded
on, however, regarding the awful strife as a
matter which concerned not them, such is the
effect of habit, until they cot about half way,
when the countryman asked if tho barrels could
ho opened handily ? The lad informed him
that it would he necessary to employ a cooper
if lie wished to have any of them opened, and
that it would bo at the expense of the buyer
“ Well,” said the countryman, “ if you have a
gimblef, I can taste tho pickle, and that will'
do.” “ Very well,” said the youth, “ if you
will continue on to the warehouse, I will run
hack to the store and get oee.” “ You can do
so,” replied tho man, “ and I will meet you
nt the warehouse in n few minutes, in tho
menntimo I will just stop a little tvay, on some
other business.”
The reader will think, no doubt, that we are
abusing his patience by such uninteresting de
tails as these; hut tho fact is,' we cannot get
along without it. By and by it will he seen,
that if it had not happened that the countryman
had ” other business” to call him out of the
way he was going, he would, instead of testing
the quality of pork, have beeg himself made
pork, meat for the worms of thq earth; and
that, if the youth had not beo,a, as most youths
arc, very forgetful—jf j D „hort, he j, ad no , f or .
got that in a pluvious trip to tho warehouse
that day, l; e bad loft the gimblct there, instead
of taking it back to the store, as ho should have
•lone—and so have kept on to the warehouse,
and not turned back to seek it at the store—he,
too, would hove been “ numbered with the
wrecks of things that were,” instead of being,
at this day, a venerable sire, and a respected
and cstimahlo member of our community.
Thus it is that a superintending Providence
accomplishes its ends and weaves man’s des
tiny. “ There is a special Providence in the
full of a sp»rra;v,” says tho greatest of poets,
quotl(\|r from Otvinc aut\k«»Ttty« mul now p«lpn-
bly is this beautiful thought illustrated in the
case before us.
The young man, as wo have hinted, recol
lecting (not, however, till he had delayed some
minutes in searching for it,) that ho bad left
the gimblct a* tho warehouse, ran out of the
store to proceed thither, but had got only a
few steps from the door, when ho was blinded
by a sudden hurst of flame which flashed across
his sight, and in tho same moment stunned by
tho noiso of an explosion far more terrifle than
any idea he had ever formed of the power of
sound. It shook tho earth, as it wore, to its
centre.
Not imagining, however, that it was any
thing else than un electric explosion, as soon
as ho had recovered from tho shock, he turned
down the path-way that led to tho warehouse,
when, to his utter astonishment and dismay,
that building was no where to bo seen ! it hud
vanished as if by enchantment I and as ho ap
proached tho spot where, but a few minutes
before, he hnd seen it stand, he perceived the
surrounding spaco strewod with its timbers,
and with fragments of tho merchandize it con
tained. The lightning had struck it, attracted,
no doubt, by the steel snws in the loft, nnd
communicalipg' to the powder, produced the
awful cntastjpphc.
Vory fow who now remain in our Borough
have nny recollection of this remarkable event
in its history; nnd there had not then been h
newspaper established In hand down a record
of it to posterity. Indeed, if there had been,
so little impression did such incidents make
upon tho public mind in those days of bustle
and Lusincss, that it is probable tho stup id dog
of an editor would have despatched it in half a
dozen lines; or, what is just as likely, omitted
to notire it all. Unlike the more enlightened
editors of thu presnnt day, who would delight
to grace a tale like this with “ decent horror,”
and spin it out to the length of two columns at
least. The recollection does exist, however,
nnd be it our task to perpetuate it.
Many are the remarkable fads connected
with this fearful occurrence. A respected
citizen, then a youth of 17 or 18, was crossing
the ferry from P irtsmnuth, ard hnd a full
view of the explosion. He describes it ns a
picture of the sublime and terrific, of which no
one can form an idea, who has not seen a vol
cano in full blast, or read Lord Byron’s graphic
description of the Church of Corinth
t'p to the sky like rockets go
And all that mingled there below.
There was a large quantity of Bacon stored
in the warehouse when it blew up, which was
hurled aloft amid the smoke, and presented the
appearance of a flock of blackbirds winging
their way among the clouds—they soon took
a downward direction, however, aud presently
a shower of bacon hams fell upon the decks of
the shipping, or mingled with the pickled pork
which strewed the wharf.
Some fell in the (tacit, which received the sprinkles
With ft thousand circling wrinkles—
fisccn end salt pork—Whose be they ?
Let their owaere see and say.
Some of the savs fell as distant as Hutch-
ing’s Wharf; one o!them was rolled up like a
piece of ribbon. 1 entail craft was lying in
the dock, only a few paces from the building,
and a man was sanding on the deck in the
act of putting on h -* jacket, hut strange to say,
he received not tic slightest injury. Two no-
gro men were ailing on tho steps of ono ot
the doors of the house, counting over the little
change they hae received for their labor : poor
fellows ! they little dreamed tiiat they were so
near the settlement of (heir last account: they
were blown to a considerable distance, shock
ingly mangled, and literally skewered with
splinteis. All the houses on Main-street had
their windows which fated the explosion shat
tered to pieces, while of those oirlhe opposite
side there was not a pane cracked.
No lives were lost sate those of tho two
negroes; a gentleman had just walked past the
warehouse,going upto Main-street, but though
not more than fifty yards from it, received no
injury. The concussion was so great, that a
gentleman taking his winowitli a few friends,
near the head of llank-street, declared that the
glasses were started to tho height of two or
three inches from the table by it.
This summer was also remarkable for the
highest lido ever known in Norfolk, before or
since, by the oldest inhabitants of that day or
this.—.VorfoVc Ilerald.
—
Lord Bi/rep.—“ Byron’s life tseemed from
tho first fated for unhappiness : l\is warm affec
tions were thrown away, both in friendship and
love, upon objects unworthy of them. Few
of his numerous associates showed him any of
that real kindness of which he was so worthy
and so sensible, or prevented him from falling
into those snares and difficulties which so em
bittered his days, or after his death paid due
honour to his memory. Like moths about the
taper, they surrounded him only for the splen
dor cast on themselves—hut, unhapp.ily, did
not perish in tho flame. His earliest, and per
haps his only true love, Mary Chaworth, gave
her hand to another, Mr. John Musters, and
left her youthful adorer to disappointment and
sorrow How Byron, for years after, could
remember with such fondness a woman who
flad shown herself so regardless of him, and
changed perhaps tho whole courso ofhis life—
is matter of reflection for those who study hu
man nature. Had tho fates decreed the mar
riage of Byron and Mary Chaworth, how dif
ferent would havo been his career through
life !—happier he must have been, so great he
would not have been. His lofty genius might
have resolved into tho ordinary duties of a do
mestic man—the world would not havo been
astounded by tho display of his unparalled
powers; his memory, and a life spent, though
in enjoyment,still in inactivity,might have pas
sed away; and tho vernal halo which now
plays round the name of Byron would never
havo arisen. Ho himself took this view of
the matter in an after period, where he says,
in one ofhis minor poems—
"For by the draw Blow or my hopes,
My incmoiy immortal grew."
The family seat of tho Chaworths was et
Annesley, a village two miles west of Now-
stead Abbey : the grounds of the estates join.
Byron first saw Miss Chaworth here, while he
still resided at Newstead. Mr. Muster was
previously acquainted with her. His father
had a large estate at Colwick, two miles cast
of Nottingham; his mother was a sister of Mr.
Orby Hunter. He used to ride over to An
nesley to sec her; and she would stand on the
top of a bill, crowned with a poculiar diadem
11 Of trees in circular array, so fixed,
Not by the sport of nature, but of man,”
to mnik Iris approach. The hill thus mention
ed in tho Dream remains at this day as it then
was : it overlooks Annesley Hall, but can
scarcely ho scon from the Abbey. They were
united in 1805, when he was about thirty, und
she nineteen. Byron had then entered the
University. Since tho period of Miss Chn-
worth’s marriage, she has been dangerously
ill and delirious for some timo : to this, allu
sion is made in the Dream. Sho has a largo
family.- Since his father’s death they havo re
sided together at Colwick's Hall, now become
his property, where lie keeps a pack of hounds,
lives in stvp, and is one of the leading county
men. Annesley also became his property—
sho being an heiress. Yet. tho people in the
neighbourhood of Newstead, when talking of
her are apt to exclaim—“ Ah—when she
thinks of him [Byron] she can never be a
happy woman.” Those who had known her
in her youngei days, on being questioned as to
her personal appearance, did not speak much
in fav our of her beauty. Whatever attractions
sho mny have possessed, however, they have
yielded to an air of paleness and melancholy;
as if of that sorrow which throws
“ Its bleak shadcsalikc o’er our joys and our woes.”
It is probably, rather the result of ill health.
Among other verses addressed to her, are
the following beautiful ones—not.it isbelieved,
very well known; at least not published in
Byron’s works :—
Remind me not, remind me not,
Of those beloved, tlioso vanish’d hours:
When all my soul was given to thee—
Hours that may nevor be forgot,
Till timo unnerves our vital [towers,
And thou and I shall cease to be.
Can I forget, canst thou forget,
When playing withthy golden hair,
Hiw quick thy fluti’ring heart did prove?
Ok by my soul! I see thee yet,
WHiVyes so lanruid—breast so fair,
. And lips, though silent, breathing love.
When thus reclining on my breast,
Those eyes threw back a glance so bright,
As half reproached, yet raised dosirc;
And still near and nearer prest—
And stilt our quivering lips would meet,
As if in tissos to expire.
And then those pensive eyes would close.
And bid their lids each other seek;
Veiling the azure orbs below—
While their long taahee’ dark’ning gloss
Seemed stealing o’er they brilliant cheek,
Like raven’s plumage smoothed in snow.
For the purpose of studying the French lan
guage, Byron passed threo vacations, of six
weeks each, at the Abbe de Roufftgny’s in]—By this arrangement two great objects weulj
Took’s Court [then the foyer of all the French: be sained: the gratification (without restraint)
emigrants, of whom about 2 or 3000 lived ini of their appetites, nnd tho great honor which
the neighbourhood,] where ho occupied twoj would accrue to both the mogastcry and con.
small apartments. The house where the Ab- ^ vent by tho production of a saint. The scheme
be lived is now Move’s printing office ; and it, was well laid; and thanks to tho stupid ignor.
is rather a curious coincidence, that his sitting' ance and superstition of the rabble, had so fug
room was the very one where the Editor and been attended with success. But a young offi.
Printer of tho Literary Gazetto now prepare I cor was an unsafe person to get into tho secret;
these sheets for the press.—His bed room was and the natural proponsity of soldiers to die.
over it. There arc no anecdotes worth rela
ting of him at this period, save that he was
little given to study and spent much of his
timo in fencing, and greatly annoyed the Ab
be by making so much noiso in his house. Tho
worthy Abbe did not discover in him any indi
cations of that talent which was to astonish
the world—but put him down as a boisterous
Pickle.
Ilis height was five feet eight inches, and
ho was broad in the chest. He wore his nails
very short, and was very particular about his
teeth and Itnen, but not otherwise rcmnrkablo
in his toilette. I rom his portraits it has boon
supposed that lie wore no cravat, but went
with his neck open—.which was not tho caso.
He used to wear a small ernvat, with tho col
lar turned down : but always sat for his like
ness without one. Besides the portrait of him
by Phillips, tiicre is a very good ono by Saun
ders. in which he and his servant Rushtnn (tho
Page of Childo Harold, Cunto I.) are painted
in sailors’ dresses. Ho was fond, from his
oasly youth, of athletic exercises, nnd, undor
jhe tuition of Jackson, became a good boxer,
and, perhaps, the best swimmer in England.
Jackson said he was ns good a ten-stowo man
as lie knew. Ho was also an excellent shot
with a pistol. Ilis name was. e.nd, I holievc,
still is up at Manton’s, (where lie used to prac
tice,) as the best sho’ there. Before embark
ing at Falmouth, for Lisbon, with Mr. Hob-
hotisc, he shot a shilling at tho distance of
twelve paces : th,<j shilling is rather curious, as
being a perfect model of a horse’s foot. He
could hit a half-crown picco to a certainty.
Ho was, however, nervous.
Mr Hanson, whose daughter married lord
Portsmouth, was a guardianof Byron, and had
the management ofhis estates during his min
ority. Mrs. Byron, his mother, at this lime re
sided at Southwill, where she continued till
Byron went abroad. She did not live with him
at the Abbey, after he took possession. She
was a very fine woman, and wrapt up in affec
tion for her son ; but though the affection was
mutual, they never lived together. He used
to visit her at Southwill, during tho Harrow
and Gambridgc vacations, but spent most of
his time in London. He did not take up his
abode at Newstead till the summer before he
came of age; but was occasionally there during
the period that lord Groy de Kuthyn occupied
it. He was remarkable, during all the time
he remained at the Abbey, in the years 1808
and 9, for his extreme abstinence. Biscuits
weighed, and tea or soda-water, was his usual
breakfast: the latter ho was used to drink in
great tjuantitic©—wometime© as much o» half a
dozen bottles before rising from bed. His
dinner was fish and vegetables, and a very er than those generally in use. So soon as
small allowance of wine; even at this early j he had fairly crossed the threshold, he com-
period he had adopted Iho Pythagorean sys- ] menecd ctyiug off his vrarc3 in somewhat the
tern, and abjured moats. This, however, did! following strain, addressing himself to no one
not prevent his indulging in the pleasures of jin particular, but every body in general:—
the table when he had company at the Abbey. “ Don’t none of yon gentlemen wagt to buy no
Those favored ones were but few: Hobhouse, | types, to print your names on yonr shirts and
Scrope Davies and Matthews (whom he men-: hats, and in your books, nor nothing, do ve?
lions in the Jast note to Canto I. of Childc j I’ll sell any of you gentlemen your name,” he
Harold) were the principal visitors there—and j continued, without lowering his voice, “ and
during their stay, he seems to have given loose' this here little palate for to put the types in,
believe miracles, led tho3e on guard to talk
loudly of what they had seen. The publica
tion of tho story was noar being fatal to the
youirr officer, and a less determined character
would have been tempted to repent of inter for.
ing in the fabrication of a saint, for ho was im-
mediately placed in confinement for daring to
calumniate such godly persons. The sentry
was so terrified with menaces of Autos da fe",
santo-benitos covered with devils and flames,
slow firo« ofbfifflaloue preceded by racks, tor.
tures, boiling pitch and lead, and all tho mate
rials in the inquisitorial arsenal, that ho ahso-,
lutely recanted, and moreover swore that the
devil, having tnken umbrage at the great piety
of those holy men, had tempted him to tell
such blasphemous falsehoods. Their attempt
to carry tiio same point with the young ensign
was not so successful. Ho agreed to appear
in public, nnd seemed ready to subscribe to all
their wishes; but how great was their astonish
ment and dismay, when, instead of an apnlogy,
ho insisted with vehemence on exposing to titer
public how much they bad been gulled. In-
stoad of tearing to pieces this obstinate bias-
phemer, tho public pitied what they had const-
derod his hallucination; besides, people in Por
tugal are apt to look twice before they pro
ceed to commit violence on tho younger son
of a hidalgo; so that it only remained with the
friars to repent heartily of tbrir want of policy,
in not having wrested from him by violence in
private tho recantation which it was so neces
sary that he should make for their justification.
But it was now too late; and one of the monks,
perceiving an appearance of momentary inde
cision upon the countenances of the spectators,
and feeling that it was a desperate concern,
was observed to slink away towards the door,
and disappeared. This created an tmiversal
murmur, upon which tho intrepid youth, whom
neither the menaced artillery of the Holy 0C-
lice, nor the teeth and nails of a congregation
of fanatics, had been able to intimidate, roared
out more lustily than ever for a red hot brick
bat, which being brought, he applied it to the
poor girl’s feet, and resuscitated her,—thus
unmasking tho whole villainy of the plot.’’
Jl Travelling Printing Office “ out o’ saris.
—Setting the other day in the bar room of a
public house in this place, chitting over the
affairs of (he day—the Morgan excitement—
the Presidential question—the wheat harvest—
pigs, poultry, and politics, all mixed op togeth
er—tho conversation was interrupted by the
entrance of s spindle-sbinked, liiy-liverej
chap, with a yankeo pcdling physiognomy, car
rying something tinder his arm that resembled
a printer’s “ upper case,” though much small-
to his convivial talents, and turned the old
gloomy Abbey into a scene of hilarity. At
other times, he half starved himself.
The “ Dead Alive.”—“ A nun of St. Clara,
whose conduct made every one regard her as
a saint, (for, instead of one confessor from the
adjoining monastery, she had threo or four)
died to all appearance, or rather it was given
out that she had died. She was laid out, as
is the custom, in tho middle of the church; and
the people were more than ever convinced of
sanctity, as her body shewed no symptoms of
corruption. No marks of decomposition mani
fested themselves; and thousands, of course,
crowded from all parts of tho country to wit
ness the miracle. Hundreds of cripples and
invalids came to touch her garments, and fan
ciod themselves cured; while others, paid by
the priests, pretended to be stono blind, and to
recover their sight on merely touching hor hab
it. In short the concourse of pilgrims was so
great, that the' infantry in garrison at Evora
were obliged to furnish a guard at the church
door to preserve order. But for this precau
tion, it is probable that the now saint would
soon have been stripped of her clothes, owing
to the anxiety of every one to get a scrap of
something belonging to her, by way of a relic
to guard against witch-crafts, aguc9, fevers,
See. On tho night ofthe third day, the sentry
on hearing some whispering in the church,
the door of which was locked and bolted, had
the curiosity to look through the key-hole, and
saw the saint sitting up, supported hy a friar,
whilst two or three others were bringing and
administering to her both eatables and drink.
On recovering from the surprise occasioned by
the unusual spectacle of a dead saint cram
ming with all the avidity of a living one, tho
soldier whispered the discovery to his ensign,
who also convinced himself by ocular demon
stration of that which he otherwise would have
disbelieved. Those two men, moreover, heard
her exclaim in a doleful whisper, 11 Do, for
pity’s sake, terminate this farce, or I shall die
of fatigue, for 1 feel I can no longer stand it.”
The fart of the matter was, that the unhappy
nun had been confessing too much to the pur
pose with these holy miscreants, who, in order
to avoid the inconvenience and danger which
were attendant on their rendezvous when in
different establishments, had agreed to mako a
dead saint of her and bury her, to all appear
ance, in their vaults; whereas, in reality, sho
would have lived in some remote corner or hid
den part of their monastery to satiate their lust.
and this hero little box of ink, for to print with,
all for six shillings, York State Money.” No
one, however, felt disposed to purchase, and
after exhibiting his wares to each individual
separately, and urging them to buy without
success, ho was nbout leaving tho room, when
a little knotty looking, curly-pated, short-skirt*
ed, Dutch teamster, with a pepper and salt
coat, who had hitherto been busily engaged in
fastening a snapper to a huge Shaker whip, in
a remote part of tho room, called out to the
pedlar to shtop—shtop—let me looks at detn
dinarches, and us I likes dem I will py shome,
up mine dunner.” The pedlar, elated with
the prospect of a sale, was by. his sido in a
trice. A bargain was soon made; tho pedlar
agreeing to furnish the Dutchman with suffi
cient typo to spell his name, and the palate
and box of ink, for seventy-five cents. Then
commenced tho process of arranging the types.
The Dutchman, without pronouncing his name,
directed tho pedlar to select such type as he
should designate, and ho thought they would
bo through with it after a while. 11 Schimmel.
pennick,” said the Dutchman; and tho other,
after hearing it distinctly spelled two or three
times, mado a shift to set it up. Now, said
tho Dutchman, I’ll syllable the surname, and
wait for you at each syllable, till you havo fi
nished it. Ho accordingly commenced :—
“ Kin c /r,” said he—it was soon in type.—•
“ V e r,” ho continued—that was also soou
arranged; and so he continued on till he had
spelled tho incredible long name of Kinck-ver-
van-der-spratch-em-atch-em. The Y ankee’s as
sortment of typo had failed him long before ho
had arrived at the termination of this tremen
dous name, and lie was cudgelling his brains
how to get out of the scrape. At length ho
burst out—“ I’ll be darn’d, iriond, if I believo
this is your name; and if it is, I han’t got typo3
enough to spell it: So if you'll let me off,” ho
continued, “ I’ll treat you to as good a mug of
toddy as the landlord cun make, and enter bail
that I’ll never be caught selling typo to a
Dutchman again, without first ascertaining hi9
name.” The Dutchman, who cared more for
the joke than the type, and more for the grog
than both, readily assented to the proposition,
and they drank together, apparently very good
friends, since which we have heard nothing
from the Yankeo Portable Printing Office, nor
from Schimmelpennick Kinckvervanderspratch-
emachern.
Tho heroine is commonly tho least agree-
able of all the personages in a good novel.