Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

VOL. 1. run CABIN hT Is published every Saturday , by P. L. ROBINSON, War rent on, Geo. at three dollars per annum , which may be discharged by two dollars atul fifty cents if paid within sijcty days of the time of subscribing. „ Murderer s Creek {But chess County ) The name of Murderer’s Creek is said to be derived from the following inci dent*: Little more than a century ago, the beautiful region watered by this stream, was possessed by a small tribe of Indians— which has long since become extinct or incorporated with some other savage na tion of the west. Three or four hundred yards from where the stream discharges itself into the Hudson, a white family, of the name of Stacy, had estabhshedjtself, in a log house, by tacit permission dk the tribe, to whom Stacey had made himself useful by his skill in a variety of little arts highly estimated by the savages. In particular, a friendship subsisted between him and an old Indian called Naornan, who often came to hi* house and partook of his hospitality. The Indians never forgive injuries nor forget benefits —1 he family consisted of Stacy, his wife and two children, a boy and a girl, the former fiv,;, ihe latter three years old. One day Naornan, came to Stacy’s log hut, in his absence, lighted his pipe and sat down. He looked very serious,some times sighed very deeply, but said not a word. Stacy’s wife asked him what wa the matter —if be was sick, fie shook! his head, sighed, but said nothing, and soon went away. The next dayUie camej again, and behaved in the same manner, i Stacy’s wife began to think strange of this and related it to her husband, who ad vised her to urge the old man to an explana tion the next time he came. According ly he repeated his visit the day after, she was more importunate than usual. At last the old Indian said, ‘I am a red man and the pale faces are our enemies— why should I speak?’ Bat my husband and l are your friends —yon have eaten salt with us a thousand times, and my ; children have sat on your knee as often,; If you have any thing on your mind tell it me; ‘lt will cost me my life if it is kn-iwn, and faced women are; not good to keeping secrets,’ replied Nao-| man. Try me and see. ‘Wilt thou swear by your great Spirit, you will tell) none but your husband?’ 1 fraove none! else to tell. ‘But ‘you swear?’ I do swear by our Great Spirit, I will tell none but my husband. ‘Npt if my tribe should kilt you for not tellifi^.* Naoman then proceeded to tell her, that owing to some circumstances of the white people below the mountains, fiis tribe bad become irritated, and ‘were re solved that night to massacre all the white setters within their reach. That she must send for her husband, and inform him of the danger, and as secretly and Speedily as possible take their canoe, and paddle with all haste over the river to Fidikill for safety. ‘Be quick and do nothing that may excite suspicion,’ said Naoman. as he departed. The good wife sought her husband, who was down on the River fi-hing told him the story, and a* no time was to be lost, they pro ceeded to their boat, which was unlucki ly tilled with water. It took some time to clear it out, and meanwhile Stacy re collected his gun, which had been left be hind. He proceeded to the house and returned with it. All this took consider able time, and precious time it was to this poor family. The daily visits of old Naoman, and his more than ordinary gravity, had excited suspicion in some of the tribe, who had accordingly paid particular attention to the movements of Stacy. One of the young Indians, who had been kept on the watch, seeing the whole family about to take to their boat ran to ihe little village, about a mile off, and gave the alarm. Five Indians collected, ran down to the river where their canoes were moored, jumped in and peddled after Stacy, who by this time had got some distance out in to the stream. They gained on him so Rural Cabinet. last,tnat twice he dropped his paddle and took up his gun. But his wife prevented his shooting, by telling him that if he tir ed and they were afterwards overtaken, they would meet no mercy from the In dians. He accordingly refrained; and plied his paddle till the sweat rolled in. big drops down his forehead. All would not do: they were overtaken within a hun dred yards from the shore, and carried back with shouts of yelling triumph. When they got ashore, the Indians set fire to Stacy’s house, and dragged him (self, his wife and children, to their vil lage. Here the principal old men, and Naornan among the rest, assembled to de liberate on the affair, The chief men a mong them stated that some of the tube had undoubtedly been guilty of treason, in apprising Siacy, the white man, of the designs of the tribe, whereby they took the alarm and well nigh escaped. He proposed to examine the prisoneis, as to who the information. The old men assented to tins, and Naornan among the rest. Stacy was first interrupted by one of the old men who spoke English and interpret* dto the others Stacy re fused to betray his informant. His wife was tiien questioned, while at the same moment, tw o Indians stood threatening j the tw o children with tomahawks in casei she did not confess- She attempted tol evadv thetruih, by declaring that she had a dream toe night before, which had a larined her, arid that she had persuaded her husband to fiy—‘The great Spirit never deigns to talk in dreams to a white face,’ said the old Indian ; —‘ Woman, thou iia*t two tongues and two faces, speak the truth, or tliy children shall surely die.’ The little boy and girl weie then brought close to her, and the two sa vages stood over them ready to execute then bloody orders. ‘ Wilt thou name,’ said the old Indian, ‘the red man who betrayed Ins tribe. 1 wilt ask thee three limes.’ The mother answered not. ‘Wilt thou name the traitor? This is the second time ’ The poor w ‘jinun looked at her husband and then at her children, and stole a glance at Naornan, who sut smoking his pipe with invincible gravity. She wrang her hands! and wept, but remained silent. ‘Wilt thou name the traitor? *U9 the third and last time.’ The agony of the mother waxed more bitter; again she sought the eye of Naum m, but it was cold and mo tionless'. A pause of a moment awaited her reply, and the tomahawks were rais ed over the heads of die children, who be sought their mother not to let them be ntui dered. ‘Stop,’ cried Naoman—all eyes were turned upon him. *St p’ repeated he, in a tone of authori'y, ‘White woman thou has kept thy word with me the last mo ment. lam the traitor. I have eaten ot the salt, warmed myself at the tire, shared the kindness of these Christian white people and it was I that told them of the danger. lam a withered, leafles-., branch less trunk; cut me down if you will. I am ready.’ A yell of indignation sound ed on all sides.—Naoman descended from the little bank where he sat; shrouded his face with his mantle of skins, and sub mitted to his fate. He fell dead at the feet of the white woman, by a blow of the tomahawk. But the sacrifices of Naoman, and the firmness of the Christian white woman, did not suffice to save the lives of the oth er victims. They perished—how, it is needless to say: and the memory of their fate, has been preserved in the name of the pleasant stream on whose banks they lived and died, which to this day is called the Murderer’s (’reek. New Mirror for Travellers. From The Yankee. MILITARY SKE TCH. Most of our readers are probably ac quainted with the fact, that during the late war in South America, it got to be common for both parties to give no quar ter in battle, and if they took any prison ers, to butcher them in cool blood. The practice originated with the troops of the mother country. The following anecdote is from the Warrenton, July 2<>, 1828. mouth of a French officer, who served in the South American arhiies. General commanded the little Isl and of Margaretta (a Spanish place of some strength in the Curibean sea )* ‘Well, Sir,’ said the General, as he lay on on the sofa one hot afternoon—it was Saturday—addressing himself to Lis Aid de-camp, ‘what have we to do to-morrow —how shall we contrive to amuse our selves?’ But the Aid-de-Camp, with the best disposition in the world to gratify the I General, was obliged to own that, lor his part, he did not know. Nothing had been thought of—he had quite forgotten that the mo r row was el Domingo —the Sab bath day. 4 VayaV said the General. ‘How many prisoners have we on hand?’ ‘Eleven my General.’ ‘Ah! then we skull get through the day pleasantly enough. Order out a detach** ment for execution. Let our friends know it, and pray los cabelleros officiates (the gentlemen officers) to take a glass of wine with me to-morrow morning at 11 o'clock—precisely at eleven.’ The following day, precisely at the hour appointed, the gentlemen officers wi re seated around a large table in the! open air, on the outside of the General’s j house; and the Spanish prisoners were brought forth and eleven chair 9 were plac ed in a row, not far from the table, and the prisoners were placed in them, and tied down, each to his particular chair; the gentleman officers laughing and talking the while, smoking their se gars and drinking together—somewhat, l sup pose, like a few of our people, who, on the Fourlh-of-July every year, get togeih er, and diiuk‘damnation* to their broth ers of a different political faith. ‘Let the detachment charge with ball!’ said the General. They did so. ‘Let them take their position.’ They drew up within a few feet of the prisoners—each of whom had five muskets aimed at him—three at his bpgast, aid two at his forehead. ‘Make ready! Fill your glasses, gen tlemeii!’ The officers about the table did so; but just as the General was about to give the word fire! the doors of a church opposite slowly opened, and the people began to pour out. Among them was a native Spaniard—a 9 soon as the Genreal saw him he ordered him up. The poor fel low-, seeing his countrymen seated in a row, and fastened in their chairs, began to apprehend, he hardly knew what—for he bore a protection, as a friend of liberty, signed by Bolivar himself, and granted to him. because of the great sacrifices he had made in the cause, not of bpain, but of the colonies, ‘Bring another chair!’ said the Gener al. Another chair was brought; and the pro tection which Slid been offered to the Gen eral, by the poor man, was re’urned with these woida—Very well—keep it; you may find it of great use to you by and bye. Gentlemen, this man willjust make up the twelve.’ The poor man locked his hands togeth er as well as he could—the fingers would but just touch—and prayed the General to spare him for the sake of his family: but the General whose beloved wife had been captured a short time before by the royal troops, and put to death, because he would not exchange a prisoner for her, made no other reply than— ‘Prepare!’ Again the muzzles were presented. ‘The twelve apostles, gentlemen! —a pleasant voyage to them —fire!’ A general discharge followed, and not a man of the twelve was ever seen to breathe or stir afterwards. Some things can be done as well as others. On friday last at half past four, P. M. agreecbly to appointment, a hair-brained fellow in Patterson, whose name we do not recollect, leaped from the Passaic fall ß , just to gratify an idle whim of his own. This is the'third time he has done T—the first time lie did it privately t,y way of experiment—he then gave out th;<t ! he would do it publicly for the gratifica tion of any who pleased to attend. The ’ authorities in Patterson were justlv nlarm ed and put him under keeping till they supposed he had abandoned the pm pose but he watched the opportunity after he was freed from restiaint, and when a num ber of persons were present, in a favorable position, he carii<d it into execution. Since that time the authorities have allow- I ed him to consult for his own safety and he leaps from a precipice of u hundred feet whenever it takes his fancy. It tines not appear that lie receives or ex pects any compensation for performing | this daring act. He says he “ merely wants to show that some things can be done as well as others .” The position | from which he leaped on Friday, is a lew rods below the bridge on the side to was (Is I the village, aid. if the falls arc 70 fe*‘t (as commonly estimated ) about 8A or 90 above the water. Tin giddy pret ipiccf around tire chasm weie covered with a promiscuous multitude of both si x'9 | whose curiosity had brought them togeth er to see this singular feat of temerity. The universal anxiety of the multitude I was manifest in their countenances, and still more perfectly in the silence that prevailed. When the man made his ap pearance a claik cloud had came over the spot, adding lo the sublimity of the cata ract that of an approaching storm. As he walk- and deliberately forwaid to his posi tion you might have heaid the beating of their hearts had it not been for the min gled thunders from the chasm bemath and the clouds above. When be bail di vested himself of his coat, vest and shoes, and laid them carefully by, as if J ■ bath g the question whether he should want (hem again, he commenced short ?-p*et h to the spectators which but few of course could hear. He th< n stepped forward to the edge of the roik and looked down, and the spectators on that side suj posit g that he was going oft’ carne forwaid as their curio-ity or their fears moved them, and teemed to those opposite a- if all were about to make the fatal leap; indeed there was danger of a whole line of those in front being crowded oft’ Alter !e had looked down a moment, he ‘•tipp'd back a few feet, ran foi watil, ard hit;' and into the abyss. He went down with Vis feet foremost, though drawn up some what. For this reason or s< me other past comprehension, he d<d bu* just go under the water, for he was in me iiuo ly seen swimming off*as quietly as if he lud done nothing, and nothing had b*fu!b n him. The maniac, (for what els** can he be called?) was greeted with a shout ftom the spectators when they saw that he was still sah; and when he had reached the shore he marched round to his clothe* with a look of composure and satisfac tion, and they to their homes, some ad miring his courage, but more pitying his temerity. N. T. Journal of Commerce. On the fourth of July last, the Mayor of the city of New York received from the Rev. I)r. liuwan of that city, a splendid copy of the declaration of Ind* pendence, to which wys attached a Certificate of Charles Caritoll of Carrollton, in the fol lowing words:— Grateful to Almighty God for flip bles sings which through Jesus Christ our Lord he has conferred on my beloved country in her emancipation, and upon myselfin permitting me? under ciicumstances of mercy to live to the age of eighty nine years,and to survive the fiftieth year of American Independence, and certifying by my present signature my approbation of the Declaration of Independence, a dopted by Congress on the feuith ot July in the year oi’ our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy six, which I oiiginally subscribed on the second day of August of the 9ame year, and of whi< I ain now the last surviving signer, I do hereby recommend to the present, and future generations the principles of that important document, as the best earthly inheritance their ancestera couhi be queath to them; and pray that the civil No. 9.