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ed back, ami pressed her shrivelled hand
over her eyes, as bewildered by the face
she met upon her threshold. She looked
again, and fainted. Eva sprung forward
to raise the head of her aunt, hut, ere she
could lift it, she was clasped to her father's
heart. Yes, Edward Sherwood —the lost—
the supposed victim of a horrid murder —
stood beneath the roof of his sister’s cot
tage, and looked upon faces changed by
time, until he saw no familiar feature in
cither.
When the old dame had fully recovered
from her swoon, and Eva was free from
her bewilderment, Doctor Sherwood pro
ceeded to give an account of his mysterious
disappearance long years before. The tale
was a brief one. and soon told. The inci
dents which Mirick had related in prison ’
were strictly true.
Soon after the conversation of the two
friends had ended for the night, Doctor
Sherwood was awakened by an effusion of
blood from his nose. He tried to stifle it;
bat, finding that the bed was becoming
saturated by it, he concluded to go down in
to the back yard, and try the efficacy of
cold water from the pump, applied to the
back of his neck, lie arose noiselessly,
and, fearful of awaking his companion,
forbore putting on his shoes. When he
reached {lie door, he found that it was too
tightly closed to admit of his pulling it
open with his hand, lie pried it open
with his pocket-knife, but, in doing so,
dropped it upon the floor, and it was too
dark to regain it. lie went into the yard,
as lie purposed doing, and was standing by
the pump, try ing to stanch the blood which
flowed from his nose, when he was seized
anil pressed on board “ a man of war,”
which was then lying in the harbor.—
Thus unhappily situated, he could send no
note of tidings back to tell of his wjretchcd
fate. He was conveyed to England, and
from thence sent to India. In vain he tried
to procure his release. It could not be ef
fected, and so he dragged out long years in
servitude At last, he procured, his free
dom, and sought again his native land.
Upon arriving at Charleston, he found that
the grave-yard contained* all who were
dear to him lliero. At length, after much
inquiry, he succeeded in learning where his
sister and child might be found. He imme
diately sought their humble cottage, and
his reception there is already known.
When April came, with its soft sunshine
and sweet flowers, there was a wedding in
the white cottage of the Sherwoods. Eva
had, in her father, found anew form to
love, but it could not root out from her af
fections the image of Richard, which had
so long rested there.
“Takeher,” said her father, as he clasp
ed the hand of her husband, after the cere
mony had been pronounced by the village
’.urate; “takeher, and go forth, loving and
yoved. Be clad in moral excellence like a
garment —keep ‘lie flame of love ever burn
ing brightly upon the altars of your hearts;
never suffer distrust of each others worth
to come, twining, like a serpent, its cold
folds around your hearts; and you will go
on happily unto the end.”
she
For Richards’ Weekiy Gazc-tKv
THE EGG HUNT.
BY TIM WHETSTONE.
lii the year 18 —, the Rev. Mr. ,
a celebrated Minister of the Presbyterian
Church, and a teacher of much celebrity,
kept a boarding-school for boys in a little ,
village, in the eastern part of the county of
Elbert, which is remarkable, at present, ;
for its morality. It is here that the scene :
of our narrative is located. The village,
at the period of which wc speak, had some
thirty or forty white inhabitants within rts
precincts. These citizens were industrious,
moral and zealous, for the success of their
town ; but, as is common in the embryotic
state of all places, the accommodations
were sparse, and the students had to be di
vided between two gentlemen, who, in
point of wealth, w ere the most reputable in
the place. These gentlemen we shall de
nominate, for our own convenience, Capt.
Smith and Parson Jackson. They lived at
the extreme points of the village, and, as
the School was large, each had some forty
young men as boarders.
In the course of lime, quite a jealousy
originated with these two classes, and they
mutually enrolled themselves under two
banners, bearing, as their mottoes, “Smith
ites- ’ and “Jacksonites.” It was a per
petual source of discord with these parties,
which should have the ascendancy in eve
ry thing pertaining to school-boy life.—
The factions referred to, were led by two
young men, known by the names of Tom
Thornton and Jim Stark. They w ere just
bordering on manhood, and possessed a
vast influence over their respective tribes,
and contributed largely to keep up their in
testine strife. Tom was the leader of the
Sinithites, and Jim of the Jacksonites —the
former measured six feet, four, the latter
not much short of it; and both, dubiousin
reference to their strength, were more than
willing that the test of manhood should
reel with soma of the yoiyiger aspirants. |
who were eager for a trial. Consequently,
an Egg-Hunt was determined upon, and it
was farther resolved that Billy Jones, a
Smithite, and Ned Tucker, a Jacksonite,
should wrestle for the appointment of the
night to hunt, as some dispute had arisen
in reference to that important item. The
judges of the wrestle were the two chiefs,
Tom and Jim ; and it was conceded that,
whoever threw the best two and three, his
chief should appoint the night of egg-hunt
ing. At the fall of the teacher’s hammer
for play-time, all hands hastened to the
ground to see the wrestle. The parties
were soon there, with coats off, and ready
for the conflict. A ring was hastily drawm
and they, hats off, stepped in.
“Now,” says Billy, “don’t catch all
under-holt, like a nigger.”
“Anything is fair in war,” exclaimed
Ned.
Billy threw his arms around Ned with a
terrapin-grip, and cried, with a stentorian
voice, “By Jake, are you ready ?”
“Ready, now —go it,” hallooed Jim.
“No breaking holt,” vociferated Killy.
“The back-lock on him, Billy,” cried
Tom Thornton, at the top of his voice.
“Give him the old snake,” exclaimed
Jim, in tones of thunder.
“ Now he'll bring him ; lie's got the old
knee-lock on him;” muttered a little, puny
urchin, at one side.
The combatants soon closed the scene,
by both falling on the side, when Tom
ejaculated—“ dog-fall!”
“ Not so!” hallooed Jim.
It was finally determine 1 that it was a
| “dog-fall,” and at it they went again;
and, after a multitude of puffings, and
blowings, and windings, and twistings, the
wrestle was decided in favor of the Jack
sonites.
The appointment fur egg-hunting was
; made for the Thursday night following.
The victor was elevated above the shoul
i ders of his party, and carried to the resi
dence of the Parson, in triumphal march,
! amid the plaudits of his friends. During
I the procession, Tom Tnornton genlly r whis
pered to a companion at his side : “ I will
| make them halloo the other side of their
j mouths, on Thursday night.”
• The night of the hunt arrived. The
moon shone beautifully, and the breezes
i were odoriferous with the perfumes of
Spring. The haunted house, about mid
| way between the extremities of the village,
r was the point of convention. The parties
: met at an early hour; the place of hunt
| ing, route, etc., were devised; all went
I forth buoyant with hope.
“I'll give ’em hell, to-night,” soliloqui
zed long Tom Thornton.
The first point of attack was the “hen
i house” of old uncle Ben, a faithful old
servant of the village, who had built his
“ fowl-roost” upon the suburbs. Sentinels
were posted, and the process of scratching
was adopted as the best expedient, the
nests being on the ground. After visiting
| several chicken-houses, and coming off
1 minus, it was growing late, it was j
; thought best to move on with more veloci- j
ty, and adopt a different mode of attack,
scratching being injurious to the fingers. 1
, and very slow. The last point of visita- j
j tion was Parson Jackson's hen-house“, j
and, as but few eggs had been obtained— ,
not enough for a roast—Jim Stark thought j
■ the prospect at the Parson's excellent, as i
he had heard the hens cackling at a des
perate rate for several days, and, in addi
tion to this, it was laying season. All j
hands put out for the Parson’s hen-retreat,
but, when they arrived, to their great mor
tification, it was locked, and it could only
be entered by violence. While cogitating
upon the means of entrance, it was sug
gested, and unanimously agreed to, that
Tom Thornton should procure a fence-rail,
he being tall and strong, run it under the
side of the house, raise it upon his shoul
der, and Jim Stark should crawl underand
fill his hat with eggs.
Tom stepped immediately to the fence t
and supplied himself with a stout rail,
which he inserted under the sill, and raised
it. Jim slipped under, hat in hand, as
soon as Tom made a sufficient opening.
Jim had been in the sanctum sanctorum
of Parson Jackson's hens but a few mo
ments, when Tom cried out:
‘•Haste. Jim, it is confounded heavy.”
“Hold, Tom,” said Jim, “eggsare plen
ty, and we will have a good roast.”
“Hurry, hurry, Jim; my shoulder will
break, if I do not let it down,” said Tom.
“ For Heaven's sake, don't let it down;
1 have but one more nest to rob,” returned
Jim.
“ 1 can stand it no longer,” ejaculated
Tom ; and down the hen-house came.
“ Boys, let me out,” said Jim, most pi
teously.
But the whole company had fled, and
Jim's lamentation was not heard. At the
fall of the house, the chickens began to
cackle and fly, the faithful dog commenced
a most menacing attack upon the house,
the Parson was aroused from his bed, and,
fondly congratulating himself upon the
prospect of a fine opossum for dinner, the
next day, he approached the chicken
house with a good deal of velocity, light
in hand; he stopped all the holesat which
it was possible for the ‘■‘varmint''’ to es
cape, and then, arming himself with a
club, unlocked the door, when he espied,
in one corner of tiie house, near a bundle
of straw, the object of his search ; but lo !
it was a biped. Without uttering a word,
he retreated, locked the house, returned to
the dwelling, awoke several ladies, who
were in the house, and requested their com
pany to see the noble animal he had
caught. The Parson and the ladies ap
proached. Faithful old “Drummer” was
yet baying his game. Jiin sought his
time, and, just as the Parson opened the
door, outlie jumped, old “Drummer” in
pursuit, and made his escape, eggs, lmt and
all—leaving the Parson and girls all alone
in their glory.
!QSMMIID§® I73SI@>W ©lSlilia
Thus ended the memorable “Egg-Hunt.”
We know not what was the fate of Jim, in
after-life. He died, and his bones now lie
in the bosom of his native State—Georgia.
Tom grew up, adopted the profession of
Medicine, and is now’ one of the most dis
tinguished practitioners in the State.
DUDGIiiG A MILITIA FINE.
BY GEO. P. BURNHAM, JH.
In days gone by, when objectionable
militia laws were in force in Massachu
setts, the customary draft was made in a
country town, a few miles from Boston,
and a notice “ to appear, armed and equip
ped according to law,” was left at the
house of a wag who possessed very little
martial “music” in his soul. Determined
that he would neither train nor pay a fine,
and entertaining, withal, a very indifferent
opinion of the utility of the system, he took
no notice of the summons. Having been
duly “ warned,” however, as he anticipa
ted, at the expiration of a few weeks, the
sergeant waited upon him with a bill of
nine shillings for non-attendance at the mus
ter.
“You're fined, sir—nine shillings—non
appearance.”
“What is it?” asked the wag, pretend
ing to misunderstand the collector.
“Fine for not training!” bawled the
other.
“ Shan't pay it, fellow!”
“It will be three dollars next time I
call.”
But the wag couldn't hear a word he
said; and in the course of another month
he received a peremptory summons to ap
pear, forthwith, at a court-martial in the
district, instituted for the purpose of try
ing delinquents, and collecting such fines
as could be scared out of the non-perform
ers of duty. Having fixed upon a final
plan to dodge issue, at the appointed hour
lie waited upon the court, to show cause,
if any he had, why he shouldn't willingly
have toted a musket and knapsack about
the town for twelve mortal hours, and oth
erwise performed the legal duties of a live
“patriot.”
He was ushered into the court-room im
mediately, which was held in an old coun
ty-house—where he discovered some three
or four persons seated, attired in flashy
regimentals, and whose awful “ yaller epo
lets” alone were sufficient to command the
profoundest attention and respect of the
beholder. Though somewhat disconcer
ted at this rather unexpected exhibition of j
spurs and buttons, he put a bold face on j
the matter, as he responded to the junior |
member of the august court; he advanced j
to the table, and the chief functionry com- 1
menccd the examination :
“Your name, sir?”
| The offender placed his hand quickly to j
the side of his head, without uttering a
word or moving a muscle in his face.
“What is your name?” repeated the
questioner, in a loud tone.
“ A little louder,” said the wag, without
replying.
11 Name 1” shouted the Judge.
“ Tauuton, Bristol county.”
“What business do you follow?”
“ Main street,” said the delinquent.
“ Your business V’ yelled the officer.
“ Right-hand-side, as you go up.”
“ How long have you been there ?”
“ About two miles and a half.”
“ How old are you, old fellow ?” con
tinued the Judge, nervously.
“ Boss carpenter.'*
“ What’s the matter with your ears ?”
“ Dr. Scarpie's oil, sometimes.”
“ What, sir ?”
“ Sometimes Cure'em’s ointment.”
“ Why don’t you answer.”
“ Nearly five years.”
1 He's as deaf as an adder,” remarked
the Judge, turning round to his subordi
nates, earnestly ; “ clear the lubber out.”
“ You are not liable to perform military
j duty,” said the Secretary, with his mouth
close to the wag’s ear.
“ 1 know that,” said the fellow, coolly.
“His hearing improves,” ventured the
Sergeant.
“What do you suppose we sit here
: for ?” asked the Judge, in a loud voice, at
i last.
“A dollar and a half a day,” said the
prisoner.
“ He may go, Mr. Sergeant.”
“ You may go,” said the under officer,
pointing to the door.
But our friend took no notice of the or
der.
“ low tony go /” yelled the Judge. “Is
it possible a man can be as deaf as all
that ?”
“ 1 can't say,” continued the delinquent,
pretending not to understand, “ but I should
think”
“Go—go !” screamed the Judge ; “there's
nothing to pay. I pity the general who
has a regiment like you to command. Show
him the door, major 1”
And our hero found himself at liberty.
He was never again summoned to train
during his residence in Taunton.
| THE MUSICIAN AND THE BULL.
Some years since, there lived in the city
of B, a celebrated performer on the French-
Horn. He was of German descent, but
was nevertheless proud of America, the
land of his nativity, and looked upon all
imported musicians with bitter cortempt.—
Mr. Roerbill was a great favorite with the
people of B , and was invited to al
most every entertainment given by the elite
of the city.
But sorry am I to say that the French-
Horn was not the only eornttcopiary arti
cle to which the great musician was devo
ted. A horn of brandy and water was
equally his delight, and an evening’senter
tainment was scarcely ever closed, before
lie had risen to a stale of beatitude, seldom
attained by water-loving mortals.
It was a cold night in December, when
all the gay fashionables of li had as
sembled at the residence of one of the
wealthiest citizens in the vicinity of the
city The party was a brilliant one, and
the gifted Uoerbiil was in his glory. He
never performed better in his life. He
“outdid” himself- The soft and mellow
tones floated from his magic horn, like the
enrapturing strains of an enchanted isle.
Gaily and joyfully passed the hours, until
“the clock told the hour for retiring.”
But, alas ! the truth must be told. Pool
Mr. Roerbill! what ails thee now? Is it
the inspiration of the music, or of the spir
it-stirring draught too freely imbibed that
causes thy eye to glitter so wildly ? Alas!
I cannot tell ! But certain it is, that when
Mr. Roerbill started on his homeward
course, his vision was very “oblique,” and
his steps, as Carlyle would say, a little
“ojliquer.” Being, in that hour of bliss
sonewhat fond of the line of beauty, he
hat. proceeded but a short distance, before
he lad wandered out of his way, and pres
ent],- found himself in a field, where a large
Dunam was wont to roam. As he man
fully worked his way through the drifting
snow, and staggered bravely onward, he
was observed by the bull, who, —that is
the bull—not liking this ill-timed invasion
of his ancient domain, advanced menacing
ly towards the intruder. Mr. Roerbill, by
this time had met with an insurmountable
obstacle, and fallen prostrate upon a bank
of snow, which being observed by the in
dignant animal, he halted; and, after
proudly pawing the snow-covered earth,
gave one loud, and not altogether unmusi
cal bellow. The fallen hero turned his eyes
upon the assailant, and after carefully sur
veying his person, exclaimed in the most
contemptuous tones :
“Sir, you are an imported musician—hie
—hie—you are, and nothing else. Sound
A, sir; sound A.”
“800-00-o!” roared the bull.
“Sound A! I say, sound A,” replied Air.
Roerbill.
“ 800-00 !” repeated the bull.
‘•That aint A, you imported rascal,”
cried the indignant musician.
“800-00-00-o!” roared the bull, in still
louder notes.
“ Pretty good—pretty good! Now sound
B, you foreign impostor,” cried Mr. Roer
bill, at the top of his voice.
But this time he received no reply- The
infuriated animal, instead of obeying the
mandate of poor Roerbill, rushed upon the
fallen hero, and raising him on his horns,
threw him twenty paces over a small ravine
near by. Fortunately Roerbill alighted on
another bank of snow, and was not much
injured. He arose in a few moments, dash
the snow from his face, and turning toward
the bull, and indignantly shaking his fist
at the still enraged beast, exclaimed :
“ Sir, you may be a good musician, but,
by the eternal, you are no gentleman !”
(DIDIB JLBTMFBIBS.
For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
BOSTON CORRESPONDENCE.
Boston, May 28, 1849.
My Dear Sir : —Last Friday morning,
Washington Goode, convicted, about a
year since, of the murder of a man named
Harding, in Ann st., or the “ Black Sea,”
as it is called, was executed in Leverett st.
Jail-yard. During the last thirty-five years,
twenty-six persons have been hung in this
city, and this last “vindication of the
laws” was the most horrible and disgust
ing of them all. The culprit, a negro, was
born amid the lowest haunts of misery
and vice, reared among the worst charac
ters, of both sexes, who infest the polluted
sinks of a city, educated in villany under
circumstances of the utmost squalor and
wretchedness; and then, to complete the
course of instruction, he served a campaign
in the Florida war! What wonder, then,
that he possessed none ot the mild and
gentle characteristics which distinguish
i those who germinate in the social atmos
phere, with which pecuniary independence
surrounds the recipients of Mammon’s
bounty.
Great exertions were made to saveGoode
from the gallows. Petitions, praying for
a commutation of punishment, were circu
lated throughout the city and neighboring
towns. These received, in the space of
two weeks, the names of more than twenty
three thousand persons! A hearing was
then had before the Executive, at which
the strongest reasons were assigned for not
punishing the culprit with death, but it was
of no avail, in this case. The Governor
and Council declined to alter the verdict,
and so he was hung. The night previous
to the execution, the prisoner prevailed up
on his keepers and the Rev. gentlemen to
leave the cell, and thus allow him a few
moments’ repose. While they were ab
sent, with a piece of glass, which had
probably been conveyed to him secretly,
lie managed to cut the arteries of his arms,
from which the blood flowed so freely,
that, when the officers entered his cell, he
was neatly dead. He did not want to die
like a pirate, was the reply, when ques
tioned as to his reasons. Long before the
hour of execution, the vicinal streets were
filled with persons anxious to geta glimpse
of the gallows, if not of the victim, while
the windows and roofs near by, with but
two exceptions, were crowded with men
and women, at the handsome price of one
dollar per head. The victim was placed j
upon a chair, being too weak to walk, and ,
thus carried to the drop, in a state of al- j
most entire insensibility, occasioned by .
terror and the loss of blood. The Sheriff
asked him if he desired to say any thing, !
and, in reply, heard two nearly inaudible j
groans. The deputy then cut the rope,
and the murderer’s spirit was thrown hur- I
riedly into eternity, amid exclamations of
horror from those who witnessed the exe- [
cution.
The papers state that the Slieriff and ;
officers showed the greatest humanity for
the prisoner, treating him very kindly; j
which reminds me of an anecdote of an I
aged widow lady, a friend of mine, whose
favorite cat, in the coarse of time, had be
come the mother of a number of kittens.
Feeling unable to support so large a family
of the genus felis, the old lady drowned all
but the mother, in a pail of water.
“How can you be ho cruel!” said I,
knowing her professed tenderness for ani
mals.
“Oh! why,” she answered, hesitating
ly, almost regretting the deed, “ the water
was clean , for I just now drew it from the
well.”
E. A. Bracket, the sculptor, has just fin
ished a plaster group called the “Wreck,”
which, I think, will, when cut in marble,
rank among the first works of American
Artists. It represents a female, in a recum
bent posture, as though thrown upon the
strand by the angry waves. Her head
falls back naturally, and her long hair,
drenched by the surf, floats underneath,
while her right arm is thrown over toward
her head in such a manner as to give the
Artist a fine opportunity to depict the mus
cles. Her left arm encircles the body of
an infant, in a way to illustrate most beau
tifully the maternal instinct, triumphant
even in the hour of death. The mother’s
features are placid and natural, or, rather,
they express something higher than the
natural; for you seem to see the smiles of
beatitude irradiating the last semblance of
terrestriality. She has passed the strug
gle for life, and has reached that point be
tween death and decay, when the features
still retain their purity, and the hovering
lights and shades of life seem bidding fare
well to the dwelling of material existence.
Both figures are entirely nude, and they
rest in such a position as to give one a fine
chance to study the anatomy of the human
frame.
After an age of study, you might still
find something new to admire. One can
read a whole history in the group before
him ; the wrecked vessel—the confusion —
the rush for life—the last resort to the
boiling waters—the mother struggling to
preserve the life of her babe—and then,
the final action of the waves in throwing
the closely-locked bodies upon the shore.
Yes, one can sit and read, till, forgetting
himself ami the actualitiesof life, he weeps
in sympathy. The conception of such a
work should place theautho • among the fce-t
designers in the world. What a pity, that
he should be compelled toexhibithis statue
in plaster, in order to raise funds to put it
in marble.
Our City Government are making every
provision to keep the Cholera from visiting
us. As yet, no case has occurred, though
one old gentleman, frightened at its near
approach, was taken to the hospital in a
state of 1 know not what, but he soon
recovered. Once a week, on a day ap
pointed, the inhabitants of all the Wards
let the Cochituate run for six hours, by
which means the cess-pools and sinks be
come, in a measure, cleansed. Officers are
around, too, peeping into all the back
yards and holes, where dirt can accumu
late ; and woe to the poor citizen, who has
neglected his duty. The pile of dirt in
front of his door augurs rather badly for
his neatness, and he hears Mrs. Smith, his
neighbor, whisper to Mr. Jones to that ef
fect, which, of course, to him, is public
opinion.
The Germania Musical Society gave its
final Concert here, last evening ; on which
occasion, Beethoven’s Grand Symphony,
No. 2, in D. Major, and a New Overture,
from Mendelssohn, were brought out. —
This Society has found glorious success
since its formation. Tedesco, whose warb
lings so affected our people, when she
sang in the Havana Troupe, has been de
servedly decked with new laurels.
W. L. Ayling opens the Athenaeum, to
night, with those sterling English Operatic
Singers, the Seguins. As the Bostonians
have not heard that class of Music, for
some time, it is thought that the attraction
will be sufficientto ensure crowded houses.
In the department of Books, we have
nothing new. Oh! I ask pardon! VVe
have something new, as “ The Botliie of
Toper-na-Fuosich, a Long Vacation, (pity
it hadn’t been shorter,) Pastoral, by Ar
thur Hugh Clough,” will testify. It is
written in the usual zig-zag, lazy-horse,
and weak-go-cart style of hexameters,
which makes one tread over the ground
twice before reaching his destination.—
However tolerable this attempt may be, its
pastoral title is not sufficiently attractive
, to entice one into its humid clover-fields;
| so, I leave your readers to search for its
! beauties for themselves.
A friend, who is acquainted with the
circumstance, assures me that James Rus
-1 sell Lowell wrote his “Fable for the Crit
ics” expressly for the niece, or daughter,
! (I have forgotten which,) of Fuller, of the
New York Mirror, to whom he gave the
I copy-right. Mats en passant , in Holden,
for June, there is a Pepeysian letter, so
full of kind hits and witty sayings, sound
ing, withal, so much like corresponding
thoughts in the “ Fable,” that it is said
none other could have written it than the
author of the “ Vision of Sir Launfel.”
Hear him chat about our “ Town and
Country Club :”—“ The Club is a singular
agglomeration. All the persons whom
other folks think crazy, and who return the
j compliment, belong to it. It is as if all
| the essential particles, which had refused
to revolve in the regular routine of the
worlds, and had flown of!’ in different di
j rections, had come together to make a
j planet of their own. The discussions in j
regard to a name were rather droll. A.,!
(A. B. Alcott,) whose orbit never, even by |
chance, intersects the plane of the modern
earth, proposed that we should call our- -
selves “Olympians.” Upon this, I sug-1
gested te W. H. C., (W. 11. Channing,)
who sat next me, and who seemed uncon-!
scions that I was not perfectly serious,
that, as the Club was composed chiefly at’
Apostles of the Newness, and as we hoped i
to aid in crushing some monsters, we should 1
call ourselves, (if we must be antique,) the
Club of Hercules. A., meanwhile, finding
that his Olympian tack met with a head
wind, wore ship, and proposal ‘Pan,’ as,
perhaps, simpler and more accessible to the
ordinary intellect. Hereupon, I again mod
estly suggested that, as we were to have a
case annexed, or to annex onrselves to a
case , the name Coffee-pot would be apter
than Pan, unless we prefixed thereto the
distinguishing Christian name of Patty.”
Au re voir, Boston jen.
A LETTER FROM TOBAGO.
A correspondent sends us the following let
ter—-which appeared in the Charleston
Courier —with the suggestion that it may
be interesting to our readers, as a graph
ic account, both of the city ot Panama
and of the state of affairs there at this
time. We copy it with pleasure. [Ed.
Gazette.
Tobago, April 20, 1849.
“ Dear sir : I wrote you from Gorgona
(I think on the 28th ult.,) by Capt. Budd.
I was far from being well at the time, or
I would have written you a much longer
letter. Immediately after our arrival there,
w T e started for Panama, which took us two
days to accomplish, and a more fatiguing
walk I have never had. Our boating from
Chagres was most delightful, passing
through scenery that can scarcely be sur
passed, for beauty, in any part of the world.
There was at one time on the river one t#in
dred and eleven boats, containing (each)
four whites and from two to five blacks.
Whilst at Gorgona, l went to the top of a
hill, and on looking below, on the opposite
side, I imagined that I was in a fairyland.
There were assembled about forty of the
most beautiful Indian girls, bathing, that I
have ever beheld.
“We had great sport on the river. Two
men in our boat shot seven alligators in one
morning, and we counted, dead and alive,
eighty odd, and monkeys, panthers and
parrots in quantities. Fruits, such as or
anges, pine apples, figs bananas, plantains,
guava, cocoa nuts, &c., in abundance.
“ Our sport, however was not to last, for
the walk from Gorgona to Panama was
just the reverse of what we had experien
ced so far. The mere walking was noth
ing—it was the dead rnnles that we met at
every ten yards that nearly gave us the fe
ver. On arriving at Panama, we could get
no boarding house, and there being no
wheeled vehicles in the place, we pitched
our tents in the middle of the street , (to me
great fun.) We got there at night, and af
ter being in bed, an hour we were roused
by most delightful music, which proved to
be a Catholic procession, on their way to
administer the last rites to a dying person.
I thought that they were serenading some
fair one, but on looking out l saw a gorge
ous canopy of gold, under which was the
Priest, having in his hand the host, and
around him about five hundred boys, with
lighted tapers, headed by the music, con
sisting of violin, basses, trumpets, flutes,
&c. Thursday before last, being holy
Thursday, they paraded for a second time,
S imitating Christ’s entry into Jerusalem.
| On the day following (Good Friday) they
: had a much greater affair of it. At day
light the bells .of all the churches, seven
teen in number, commenced ringing, (some
; of these churches, are in a state of decay,)
; but mass is said in every one of them, and
! several of them are magnificent specimens
! of architecture, not one of them having less
than six altars—the Cathedral has four
teen, sixty silver candlesticks, from three
to six feet in length, and an altar (the grand
one) of solid silver, monasteries and nun
j neries in abundance. At eight o’clock the
j cannons were fired, which was the signal
for the military to start from the plaza to
the Cathedral as an escort. As soon as
they arrived, they formed a line on each
side of the grand entrance, through which
the governer and suite, and the heads of all
the principal State Departments, passed in
to the Church to receive the body of Christ.
Then came the sights. First twelve
wrapped up from head to foot in black, gla
zed cambric, with a crown of thorns on the
head, each carrying a rough pole, 30 feet
in length—these are called “ penitents.”—
Then came fifty boys, in surplices of white
muslin, each carrying a cup (silver) of in
cense, after which came ten Priests, read
ing psalms. Secondly, a large crucifix,
(surrounded with lighted candles,) carriq”
by negroes, on a large platform covered
with black cloth. This was followed by
all the grandees of the town, without hats,
(men.) Third, fifty girls with incense,
then the Bishop, and every other Priest
that could be started, all arrayed in splen
dor, followed by an image of the Virgin as
large as life, covered with pearls and dia
monds. She was followed by all the high
er class of young ladies, with veils on
their heads, and in splendid costume. One
of them, the Signorita Hortado, had dia
monds around her waist to the amount of
$14,000, independent of those on her head,
arms, fingers, neck and ears. Pearls here
are very common—l saw one sold here for j
$3, which ought to bring in the States, SSO.
They tell me that they are fifty per cent
cheaper than they were before the Revolu
tion. A merchant here, Mr. Feraud, lost
over $70,000 on one shipment to Europe.
“ Now that I have told you of the sights.
I shall tell you of myself. After having
our tents nicely fixed, we were ordered to
take them up, and not being able to pro
cure lodgings, we were compelled to go to
this small Island, Tobago, where we are ;
snugly fixed, or as I call it, tightly packed, I
ten in one room, at a railes (10 cts.) a j
piece per diem. There are now on the Istli- j
inns 2000 men, out of which but one half ■
have tickets. There are no vessels here,
although fourteen large ones are looked I
for daily. Day before yesterday, tickets j
were sold for the three ships telegraphed, ■
at $350, and sold second handed for SSOO : 1
but matters cannot continue thus; some
men have gone to Callaotq,procure vgssels>
but that is very farfrom-hgre. The steam-
er California, from San Francisco, which
was due on the first, has not yet arrived,
and there is much anxiety felt for her, her
tickets have been sold here at an advance
of S3OO on first cost.
1 There is much sickness at Panama, we
have nad eight or ten deaths since the last
week, all Americans. lam afraid to move
unless it is in the cool of the day; many
of the emigrants here are returning to the
States, and many have not the means to
move one way or the other; vice of every
description is prevalent here. One American
lost SI6OO in one night; and, asforthieves,
there are more here than in any place 1
have ever known.
Fur Richards’ Weekly Guzette.
OCEAN.
SUNSET.
Von wintry sun Rings o’er his tomb,
And winds begin his dirge,
While Darkness comes with wings of gloom
Far o'er the lonely surge,.
O ! helmsman, be the compass straight,
And true the quivering helm ;
For storms afar our course await,
And sens our bark to whelm.
NIGHT.
Slow settling on the sombre deep
The heavy Night comes down ;
I see no stars thoir watches keep
Through its portentous frown.
From the black wilderness around,
Deep, hollow mutteriugs come,
And rumbling echos far resound
Throughout the murky dome.
MIDNIGHT.
Hoarse herald-blasts their challenge blow,
And sound their trump of fear;
The frotted waves ta meet their foe,
Leap from their gloomy lair —
Till air, and sky, and angry deep,
Give forth their awful cry;
Below, the seas in thunder sweep—
The thunder’s voice on high.
DAWN.
The Dawn is here—unveil’d, her light
Comer o’er the billows’ play,
And storm and cloud that came with Night,
With Night have passed away :
From ocean, roused by gales no more,
Low sobbing murmurs rise,
As hearts whose grief but late is o'er,
Will heave unbidden sighs.
MORNING.
Far o’er the bright empyrean ca t,
llow calm its deepened blue ;
So shall the heart, when sorrow’s past,
Its glorious life renew.
And it the brightest day must part,
And storms the night prolong,
This faith shall light the gloomy hc.rt,
And make the spirit strong.
Charleston, S'. C. (},
& IS ib 88 fl <D Si Si
Sititban Utabuiss—foe .June EX.
FEAR AND CONFIDENCE.
“ What time I am afraid, f will trust in thoo.' 1
Psalm Ivi. 8.
The circumstances under which this
Psalm was penned are of the most trying
description. David fled from the fury of
Saul to Gath, and there fell into the hands
of the Philistines. You may read the his
torical account in 1 Sam. xxi.lo, 11. In
the passage we have
A season of distress. “ What time lam
afraid.” This was a time of fear to David,
and there are periods in the history and ex
perience of the believer when he is afraid.
His fears arise from various sources.
Personal affliction. “The heart know
eth its own bitterness. How many mourn
in secret, and have their silent misgivings,
with which none but themselves are ac
quainted ! Perhaps there is a long and
protracted illness, a sudden reverse of cir
cumstances, or some unexpected visitation
of distress which causes fear and trembling
Relative trials. There is much to try
us in connection with the world and man
k*l"!—in our families and social circles
How often does death snap asunder the
most tender ties, and treachery betray the
most sacred trust! Some have to mourn
the death, and others the impiety and un
concern, of relatives.
Mental distress. Christians have not on
ly their outward btrt inward sources of
fear; and these arise from the tempta
tions of the great adversary, and the re
mains of corruption within. Turn from
the dark to the bright side of the subject,
and notice
A source of relief. “ I will trust in thee.”
Confidence in God is calculated, to alia)
our fears. Look at
Its object. It is God himself. In the
season of distress, yon may as well attempt
to rest on a straw, or be defended by a
shadow, as to seek solid relief from the
world; There must be confidence in bi
perfection, covenant, word, promises, and
grace.
Its nature. How is it to be exercised
Entirely—some try to divide their conli
dence between God and the world; bud wo
must restall on him, and let no other trust
intrude. Joyfully—for there is everything
in God to excite such a feeling. Contin
ually—we must never, give up our hold
“ Cast not away your confidence, which
hath great recompense of reward.”
Its reasonableness. Who cau lay a
greater claim to our confidence than he
in whose hands our breath is, and whose
are all our ways ? The character oft God,
the testimony of his word, and the experi
ence of his people,, all upite to show
reasonableness—death, judgement am! eter
nity will j>rove it.