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\ r v)L. XV 111
r HE 7 KPERAWCE BANKER
IS TITF.
Organ of the Sons of Temperance
\ ND OF THF.
State i'uuventiun of ‘eorgia:
PfjnMSllKD WEEKLY,
ItV SROJtTn BKMTLT.
tT Term* —One Dollar a year, in advance.
Letters must be I’ost paid, to receive at.
te ntion.
b Banner Almanack, for 1852, n
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Every man i* in danger of becoming a drunkard who is in o
A tiie habit of drinking ardent spirits, Qj
1. When he is warm. S it. When he is at work. |
2. When he is cold. C 12. When his idle. Q
3. When he i< wet. J i3. Before meals. A
-1. When he is dry. ) 14. After meals.
ft. When he is dull. S 15. When he gets up. V
ii. When he is lively. f Ki. When he goes to bed.
7. When he travel. / 17. On hollidftys. . \?
8. When he is at home. ) 18. O n Public occasions, o
9. When he iain company ( 19. On any day: or 0
§ jgjf“ Kvcry friend to TemperanceM
3 should take flic Temperance Banner: g
9“lf Temperance men will not supportk’
j)t!ic Temperance Press, who will • ’
MORAL AND RELIGIOUS- |
‘ One sin may destroy the Soul-”
It was during a precious season of
reviving mercy it) N , that a whole
family, consisting of a father and mo
ther and two children, who sat under
my ministry, were awakened simulta
neously bv the spirit of the Lord. It
was a highly respectable as well as
amiable family, and soon the mother and
daughter were rejoicing in hope.
Sabbath after Sibbalh the father
would stop to walk with me after church
and conversed freely and with tears
about his soul, and I wondered why he
did not find the Saviour precious, as
did the othersofhis household. At last
1 was informed by some friend, that he
was in the habit of using intoxicating I
drinks. Upon teaching this intelli-;
gence, I went immediately to see him. j
Soon he came in, and 1 saw at once by
his glassy eyes and his indistinct and
incoherent conversation, that he was in-i
toxicaied.
Faking him by the arm 1 led him in
to his ga “del, and t 1 to
deep emotion, “Sir, you have been
drinking; and now l telL you, tha. if
you do not abandon it, you will lose!
your soul.” He replied, “I do not!
drink any thing stronger titan beer, ci
dar and wine; and Dr. says this
is not wrong.” “1 care not,” said I,j
“what Dr. says, or any one else; j
it is clear to me, that unless you abaitd- j
on them you will lose your soul.”
He received it kindly, and hading me
to the rear of his lot, he stopped and !
said, “Sir, on this very spot, eight years
ago, 1 promised my brother that 1
would not again drink any distilled liq
uor, and l have kept my promise. I
now promise you, that 1 will never
drink any intoxicating liquor.’ V\ e
returned to the bouse, where I poure
out my heart for him in prayer, and
went home.
The day of his pledge was the day of
his salvation. When I met him the next
Sabbath, he was rejoicing in hope.—
From that day now fifteen years since,
he has been a thorough temperance
man, and a thorough Christian. Indeed
1 scarcely, know a happier man, or a
happier family. His expressions of
gratitude whenever we meet are so full
and overflowing as almost to be painful.
In this day of increasing intemper
ance, and when even those who were
once temperate physicians are returning
to their alcoholic proscriptions, and
moderate drinking is becoming fashion
able, 1 would recommend the Rev. Dr.
Nettleton’s letter to Dr. Buchan, on the
subject of drinking as connected with
religion. It is found in his life, and no
man knew better than he the ruinous
consequences to convicted sinners ; for
ho was conversant with revivals as
very few men now alive have been.
[Ante r. Messenger.
The Sabbath.
The resf of the Sobbath is as necessa
ry after the engagements of the week as
is the night’s rest after the work of ‘he
day. To the one we go instinctively,
forced by fatigue. It is well if wo ob
serve the ..ther, impelled by moral con-
siderations, before suffering the penalty
attached to its violation, of which no ir.-
stinct gives us warning. After six days
of labor, our strained muscles need a
season to renew their elasticity, our ir
ritated nerves lo recover I heir normal
state, our fretted spirits to resume their
equanimity. A similar change of nec
essary labor does a great deal; the en
tire cessation of that is unnecessary
does still more. The fining devotional
exercises of the day, calming and sooth
ing, and productive of that healthy
state of mind with which it is desirable
to enter upon the hnoest duties of the
succeeding days. The influence of the
Sabbath on the week’s tumultuous
cargs is like oil poured on the stormy
sea. Sretching out over the hurrying
crowd of daily’ engagements, like the
rod of the prophet over the lied Sea, it
piles up the waves on either side, and
we pass through them dry sbood.
“O day most calm, most bright!
The fruit of this, the next world’s bud;
The endorsement of supreme delight,
Writ by a friend, and with his blood, —
The couch of time, care’s bairn and bay,—
The week were dark, but for thy light,
The torch does show the way.”
“The Sunday of man’s life,
Threaded together on time’s string,
Make bracelets to adorn the wife,
Os the eternal, glorious King,”
From the Mobile Register.
Tho License System-—No 6.
Men may prate about constitutional
rights. Sophistry may mislead the
mind in the mist of abstractions, hut an
honest investigation must result in con
demnation of the system under cousid
ation. It cannot stand a legal analysis
and is utterly defenceless when con
fronted with the moral law. Our civil
code is replete with the most absolute
and seemingly, arbitrary requirements.
Tt ie law not enly dictates a line of con
duct tor out-door associations, hut it ex
ercises a stern censorship in the family
circle. It dissolves the most delicate
relations, and separates the parent from
the uliihl. There cannot he a bolder
assumption than this from a stronger
natural right. The public peace do
mauds the intervention, and by common
consent we invest the law with its pa
iriarchial character.
Will tho punctilious defender of ‘re
publican rights’ require a more com
plete refutation of the ridicui ;us posi
lions assumed, whenever Liquor be.
comes the subject restriciton } (t is a
singular fact, that no other question
elicits so much patriotic solicitude.—
The law may take away wife, child,
and personal liberty ; assume even tiie
despotic in ol a Russian IJkusse, but the
glotious privilege of drinking Liquor
must be preserved inviolate.
The penal code is a register ol offen
ces, consequent upon the use of intoxi
cating drinks, yet the (radio is legal
iz< a
nd Drunkenness is ono condition of the
! forfeiture of parental right, yrt the law
decides, in the License system, tuat the
agent is necessary and proper. The
law approves the medium to crime, and
1 declares it an aggravation of guilt. Irt
t plain language, the law sells the right
jto open oar room, men drink there un
intoxicating beverage. The fiery stim
ulant induces excess, violence and
! cfirne —the peace of society is invaded,
and the iaw arrests and punishes.
By wnai right does ihe law pay the
hangman when it is an accessary ? |
By what right is the individual medium
relieved from participation irt the of
fence ! Simply by the legality , not the
momlity ol the agency.
party to a wrong, n consistent
execution; if so, the present system is
, admissible. But 1 apprehend this is.
no the bu.Ms ot our jurisprudence.
Does legal sufferance make viee a
virtue? If so, no moral responsibility
rests upon the vender ot spirituous Liq- I
’ uors.
It the bar room stimulates industry
I fosters virtue, invigorates the mind or
refim s tiie manners ; if it subdues pas
| sion, induces temperance, elevates re
ligious sentiment, or cements more
closely the parental and filial relations; !
if, in a few words, il mvkes a man bet\er
—for this is the great object of social |
organization—■ then it requires no legal
sanction. Ifthe reverse be true, and
true it is, ifthe public records of crime
and charity do not lie, and tales of do
mestic misery be not mere sketches of
fancy—then the law becomes a party
to the wrong, by sufferance and perpe
trates a double wrong when it pro
c'aims, os in the License system—that
dollars and cents are equivolents for
the sacrilice of virtue.
If then the morality of a business is
to be measured by its effects, the ven
der of spirituous Liquor cannot escape
the reflection.
PRO BONO PUBLICO.
The License System —No 6.
Enough has been said upon the legal
side of our subject, to invite refutation,
if not clearly to establish the inconsist
flicv of legislation.
P ENFIELD, HA. OCTOBER 30, 1852.
1 come now to examine more in de- j
tail—in ‘Household words’—the effects j
of intoxicating drink upon the political !
and social interests of our country, i
The result I trust will expose the true j
deformity of the monster, and contribute J
to the prohibition of its sale by draught; |
at least, I deal with a measure, not men,
and it the truth should grate harshly,
, it is to be hoped the impression will be
| cherished as the forerunner of convic
tion and reform. I come not to burl
| den mciation upon the heads of those
engaged in the business, nor to p o-
I claim the. keeping of a bar-room, con
; elusive evidence of moral degradation, i
i These persons yield to a common im- ’
pulse, sustained by the law, and counte
nanced by public opinion. My pur
pose is to shuw that the profit is gained
at the sacrifice of manly dignity and do
mestic peace ; that the legal sanction
is a gross assumption of authority, not
de legated by the social compact, and to
purge the latter of disease. It is said
that the pocket is a good medium to the
| brains—an economical view of our sub
ject is, therefore, desiraule.
When an individual fails to supply
his persona! necessities, by personal la
] bor, he is a tax upon the community to
I the extent ot those necessities. The
i vagrant and drunkard are a public tux--
j they contribute nothing to the coffers of
| the State, while enjoying its conveni
ences and protection.
’ From the number arraigned before the
Mayor, 483
! And eases treated at city Hospital, 800
Making 1283
I claim at least 150 persons—who
live between the watch-house and hos
pilal, who have no regular domicil and
■ visible means of sustenance. If it re
; quires &150 a yeur to board and clothe
; a man, the loss to tne community in the
| dimiuuti /it ot profitable labor, will upon
| this basis be $22,500 per annum. Adit
to tho fiist number, the more respecta
ble class of intemperate and idle per
sons, who though not recognized in the
public instituiious, detract in uu equal
i degree from tho general prosperity, and
| the übove amount will approach $50,-
| 000, and doubtless be still below the
j truth. This must not be dented or rid
iculed because not appreciated. It is
susceptible of demonstration by thesirn
plest rules ot political economy. Be
cause a man is not called upon by a
j public ollicer to contribute his quota of
| the loss, it does not necessarily follow,
that there is none sustained. Credibili
ty does not always involve a sensible
revelation.
The expenses of government are in
| proportion to geographical limit and
population. It is supplied by individu
|al contribution, in the form of a tax,
! which is assessed as equally as possi
ble. This equality depends upon ihe
prompt response of each party, and to
the extent of drunkenness and vagrancy
will be the demand for additional or in
creased personal tax.
i lie recent statement of city finances
by the Mayer, is opportune:
Estimated tax for 1852, $37 373
Expenses of City Guard—alono,
nearly ono halt, 14 700
This police arrests in one year about
| 1000 persons,
For actual drunkenness, 480
For offences, consequent upon intoxi- I
eating drinks, at least, 200 j
Making, 680 1
By simple rule of three we discover!
| ‘hat to protect the city from the abuses!
of Liquor, to arrest and incarcerate, af.
ter the bar-room has done its work, $0 -
000 of the item $14,700 must he ap
plied.
Ihe receipts from licenses, are one
half consumed in the City Hospital i
j where, as before stated, three fourths
of the cases treated are the result of in
temperance, and the balance will not
| more than pay the salaries of officers!
riot embraced in the item ‘City Guard-’
1 need not offend the comm n sense
;of the people with any additional dec
laration that the bar-room does not con
tribute to the economical admintstntion j
of the city government.
PRO BONO PUBLICO.
TII E M I LL E R’ 8 MAI D.
There is a lonely mill close beside
the little hamlet of Udorf near the’
Rhine shore between the villages of
Hersel and Ursel,onthe left bank be- :
low Bonn. The mill is said to have
been the scene of the following story.
It was on a Sunday morning, “ages
long ago,” that the miller of this mill, |
arid his whole family went forth to hear
the holy mass at the nearest church in
the village of I lersel. The mill, which
was also his residence, was left in
charge of a servant girl named Han-i
chen, or Jenny, a stout hear;ed lass, who;
had long lived with hirn in t| lilt ca’paci.
ty. An infant child, of an age unfit for
church, was left in her charge likewise.
The girl was busily employed in pre’
paring dinner for the return of her roas
ter and his family, when who should
enter all of a sudden hut an old sweet
hear* of hers named Henrich Bottelor.
He was an idle, graceless fellow, whom
Jennv, wit 1 the amiable perversity pe
culiar to her sex, only liked, perhaps,
all the better because others gava him
no oountemmee. She was glad lo see
him, and she told him so too ; and al
though in the midst of Iter work, she
not only gel him something to eat once,
but also found time to sit down with
him and have a gossip while he lis
patched the food she set before him.—
As he ate, however, he let fall his knife.
•Pick that up, my lass,’ suid he in a
joking way to the good natured girl.
Nay, Heinrich,’ she replied, ‘your
; uack should be more supple than mine,
I for you have less work to make it stiff.
1 labor ail day long and you do nothing.
But never mind, ‘twould go hard with
me, had l refused to do more than that
for yon, bad though you be ’
This was spoken half sportively and
half in good earnest; for kimlhearted as
the girl was and much as she liked the
scape-grace, she was too honest and in
dustrious herself to encourage or ap
prove of idleness and a suspicious oou use
of life in any one else, however dear to
her. As she was in the act of rising,
however, the treacherous viilain drew a
dagger from under his coat, and caught
her by the nap of the neck, gripping
her throat firmly with his lingers to
prevent her screaming the while.
‘Now lass,’ lie said, swearing out u
bad oath at the same time, ‘where is
your master’s money ? I’ll have that or
your life; so take your choice.’
The terrified girl would fain have
parleyed with tho ruffiain, but he would
hear nothing she would say.
‘Master’s money or your life, lass,’
was all the answer he vouchsafed to her
entreaties and adjurations. ‘Choose at
ouce, was the only alternative lie of
fered Iter ; ‘the grave or the gold !’
She saw there was no hope for mer
cy at his hands; and, as she saw it, her
native resolution awoke in her bosom.
Like the generality of her gentle sex,
site was timid at trifles ; a scratch was
an object of fear to her—a drop ofblood
caused her to faint—-an unwonted sound
filled her soul with fear 111 the night,--
But when her energies were aroused by
any adequate cause she proved as bor
ex have ever done, than in courage, in
! endurance, in presence of mind, and in
resources for every emergency, she far
surpassed the bravest and coolest men.
‘Well, well, Hoinricb,’ she said, re
signedly, ‘what is to be must bo. But
if you take the money, 1 shall even go
along with vou. This will be no home
for me any more. But ease your grip
of my neck a little—don’t squeeze so
bard; I can’t move, you bug me so tight.
And if I can’t stir, you can’t get the
j money, that’s clear, you know. Be
sides, time presses, and if it be done at
all it must be done quickly, ns the
household will shortly be back from
Hersel.’
The ruffian relaxed his gripe, and j
finally let go his hold. Her reasons ;
were all cogent with his cupidity.
‘Come,’she said, ‘quick! quick! no
delay ! The money is in master’s bed- j
room.’
She tripped upstairs, gaily as a lark;
he followed closely at her heels. She
led the way in to her master’s bed-room,
i and pointed out the coffer in which his
j money was secured.
‘Here,’ she said, reaching him an axe
which lay in a corner of the room, ‘this
I will wrench it open at once; and while
| you are tying it up, I shall just step up
i stairs to my own apartment and get a
i few things ready for our lligf't as well
| as my own little savings for the fast live
; years.
Tho ruffian was thrown offhis guard
i by her openness and apparent anxiety
fto accompany him. Like all egotists,
!he deceived himself when self-deceit
was most certain to be hi* destruction.
‘Go, lass,’ was all he said, “but be
| not long. This job will be done in a
’ twinkling.’
Site disappeared at the words He
immediately broke open the cheer, und
| was soon engaged in rummaging its
f contents.
As he was thus employed however,
I absorbed in the cori .ernplution of his
! prey, and eagerly occupied in securing
! it on his person, the brave.hearted girl
I stole down stairs on tip-toe. Creeping
I softly ulprig the passages she speedily
j gained the door of the chumber unseen
;by him, and likewise unheard. It was
! but the work of a moment for her to
j turnthe key in the wards and lock him
! in. This done, she rushed to the outer
door of the mill und gave the alarm.
‘Fly ! fly ! ’ site shrieked to the child,
her master’s little boy, an infant five
years old, the only being within sight
or sound of her ’ ‘Fly! fly to father!
fly on your life! Tell him we shall all
f be murdered if he haste not hack !—-
! Fly J fly !’
The child who was at play before the j
door, at once obeyed tho energetic corn
mand of the brave girl, arid sped as fast
as his tiny legs could carry hirn on the
road by which be knew his parents
would return from church. Hanchen
cheered him onward, and inspired his
little heart as he ran.
‘Bless the boy ! bless thee!’ she ex- I
claimed in the gladness of her heart ; \
•an’ master arrives in time, 1 will offer |
up a taper on the altar of our blessed I
Lady of the Kreutzberg, Bonn.’
Biie sat down on the stone bench by |
the mill door to ease her over excited \
spirit, and site wept us she sat, nt the I
thoughts v>t her happy deliverance.
‘Thunk !’ she ejaculated, ‘thank God
for this escupe. Oh! the deadly vil
lain ! and 1 so fond of him, too.’
A shrill whistle from the grated win
dow of the chamber in which she hud
shut up the rulfian Heinrich caught her
ear and made her start at once to her
l feet.
‘Deither! Deither!’ she heard him
shout, ‘catch the child and come hither,
lam fast. Come hither. Bring the
boy and kill the girl.’
Site glanced hastily up ut the case
ment from which the imprisoned vil
lain’s hand beckoned to someone in tii<-
distance and then looked anxiously af
ter her infant emissary. The little
messenger held on his way unharmed,
however, um 1 she thought to herself that
the alarm was a false one raised lo ex
cite her fear, overcome her resolution.
Just, however, as the child reached u
hollow spot in tho next field—the chan
nel of a natural drain, —then dry with
the heats of a summer—she saw anoth
er ruffian start up from the had of the
drain, und catching him in his arms,
hastened towards the mill, in occordance
with the direction of his accomplice.
In a moment she perceived her dan
ger, and in a moment more she formed
her future plan of proceeding. lie- j
treating into the mill 1 she doubled, lock
ed and bolted ‘.he door—the only appa
rent entrance to the edifice, every other
means of obvious access to the interior
being barred by means of strong iron
gratings fixed against all tiie windows;
und then took her ~post ut the upper
casement, determined to await patiently
either her master’s return and her con
sequent delivery Jfrom that dangerous
position, or her own deuth if it were in
evitable.
‘Never,’ said she lo herself, ‘never
shall I leave my master’s house a prey
to such villains, or permit his property
lobe carried off before my eyes bv
them, while I have life and strength to
defend it.
Bhe had hardly time to secure herself
within when the ruffian from without,
holding tho hapless child in one hand,
and a long sharp knife in the other, as
sailed the door with kicks and curses,
and impreoutions of tho most dreadful
character.
‘Cenfou.nd thee !’ ho cried, applying
t e foulest epithets of which tlm free
speaking Teutonio languages are so co
pious ; ‘open the door, or I’ll break it
i in on ye !’
‘lf you can, you may,’ was ull that
; the noblo girl replied. ‘God is greater !
j titan you, and in Him 1 put my trust.’
‘Cut the brat’s throut!’ roared the
I imprisoned ruffian above ; ‘that will
] bring her to reason.’
Stout hearted as poor Ifnnchcn was,
she quailed at this cruel suggestion.— I
For a moment her resolution wh- |
vered, hut it was only for a moment.—
1 She saw that her own death was certain
lif she admitted the assailant, and she j
knew tier master would bo robbed.— ;
Blie had no reason to hope that even the
| life of the infant would be spared by
her compliance. It was to risk all
against nothing. Like a discreet girl,’
| she consequently held fast to tier re
solve to aliido as she was. while life re
mained, or until assistance should reach
her.
‘An ye open not the door,’ shouted
the villain without, accompanying his
words with tho vilest abuse and the
fiercest imprecations, ‘l’ll hack this
whelp’s limbs to pieces witli my knife,
arid then burn the mill over your head. l
’Twili he a merry blaze, 1 trow.’
‘I put my trust in God,’ replied the
■ dauntless girl; ‘never shall ye set foot
within these walls while I have life to
prevent ye.’
The ruffian laid the infant for a mo.
merit on the sward as he sought about
for combustibles wherewith to execute!
his latter threat, luthis search he es- j
i pied, perhaps, the only possible elandes- j
! tine entrance to tho building. It was a
large aperture in the wall, communion
ting with the. great wheel and the other
machinery of the mill, and was a point
| entirely unprotected for the reason that
the simple occupants had never sup
posed it feasible lor any one to seek ad
mission through such a dangerous inlet.
Elated with this discovery, the ruffian
returned to the infant, and tying the
hands and feet of the little innocent,;
threw itori the ground even as a butch
er will fling a lamb destined for the!
slaughter, to await his time for slaying.
He then stole back lo the aperture, by
which he hoped to effect an entranced
All this was unseen by the dauntless j
girl within.
In the meantime lietr mind was bus-;
ied with a thousand cogitation. She |
clearly perceived that no means would j
be left untried to effect an entrance, |
arid she knew that ori the exclusion ofj
her foe depended Iter own existence.—**
A thought struck her.
“It is Sunnay,” she said to herself,
“the mill never works on the Sabbath;
suppose l set it a going now? It oan
be seen afar off, and haply my master,
or some of his neighbors, wondering at
the sight, may haste hither to discover
tho cause. A lucky thought,” she ex
claimed ;” ’tis God sent it to me I”’
No sooner said than done. Being all
her lile accustomed to mill-gear, it was
but the work of a moment for her to set
the machinery in motion. A brisk
j breeze which sprang up, as it were by
the special interposition ol Providence,
iat once set the sails flying. The arms
‘of the huge engine whirled round with
1 fearful rapidity; the great wheel slowly
revolved on its axis; the smaller gear
turned, and creaked, and groaned, ac
cording as they came in action; the
mill was in full operation.
It was in tliut very ins'ant the ruffian,
Wether, hud succeeded in squeezing
himself through the aperture in tho wall
and getting safely lodged in the iniorior
of the great drun -wheel. His dismay,
however, was indescribable, when ho
began to be whirled about with its rota
tion, und found all his eflorts to put a
stop to the powerful machinery when
set in motion, or to extricate himself
1 rotn his perilous situation, were fruit
less, His cries were most appalling;
j bis shrieks were truly fearful; his cur
: ses and imprecations were horrible to
bear. Hannoheu hastened to the spot,
! and saw him caught, like a reptile as he
j was, in his own trap. It need not be
added that she did not liberute him,-~
1 8he knew that he would be more
| frightened than hurt, if he kept within
bis rutury prison; und she knew, also,
‘bat unless he attempted to escape,
j there was no danger of his falling out
|of it, even though he were insensible
j and inanimate ull the while. In the
meantime, the wheel went round and
j iound with its steady, unceusing mo
tion ; and round and round went the
I ruffian, along with it, steadily and un
ceasingly, too.
In vain did lie promise the stout
hearted girl to work no barm; in vain
I did fie implore tier pity of bis helpless
condition; in vain did he pray to all the
powers of heaven, and adjure all the
powers of bell to aid hirn. She would
not hear nor heed him, and unheard and
unheeded of them likowiso, ho was
whirled round and round in the untiring
wheel, until at lust feeling and percep
-1 lion failed him, and ho saw and heard
no more. He fell senseless on the hot
tom of the engine, but even then his in
-1 animate body continued to be whirled
round and round us before; tho brave
girl riot .daring to trust to appearances in
j connection with such a villain, as be
ing, therefore, afraid to suspend the
j working of tiie machinery, or stop the
mill gear und tacklo from running ut
their fullest speed.
Loud knocking at the door was short
ly after heard, and she hastened thith
er. It was her muster and his family,
accompanied by several of their neigh
bors. The unaccustomed appearance
of the mill-sails in full swing on the
Sunday, us she had anticipated, attrac
ted their attention, and they had hasten,
ed homo from church for the purpose of
ascertaining the cause of the phenom
ena. The father bore his little hoy in
his arms; lie had cut the chords where,
with the child wasjtied, hut ho was un
able to obtain any account of the ex
traordinary circumstances tliut bail oc
curred from the affrighted innocent.
Ilannchen, in a few words told all;
ami then the .spirit which had sustained
| iicr so long and so well, while the emer
gency lusted, forsook tier at once as it
passed away. Site fell senseless into
the arms of the miller’s eldest son, and
was with greut difficulty recovered.
The machinery of the mill was at
once stopped, and the inanimnto ruffian
dragged forth from the great wheel.—
1 lie other ruflian was brought down
from his prison. Both were then
hound, and sent on to Bonn under strong
escort; and in due course, came under
the hands of the town executioner.
It was not long till Hatmohen became
a bride. The bridegroom was the mil
ler’s son, who had loved her long and
well but with a passion previously un
requited. They lived thenceforward
happily together, and died at a good old
age, surround by a flourishing family.
To the latest hour of her life, this brave
hearted women would shudder as she
told the tale of hor danger, and her de
liverance.
(fit"“Cati you tell us, Jirn, where
they get so much corn from to maim-
I I'acture into whiskey?’’ “No, sir, but
I cun tell very well where the corn
(comes from after the whiskey is made.
The publisher of the Knickerbocker
Magazine says he would rather sit up
all night to enter the names of new
pre-paii suoscriheis, than •’ i;
dunning letters two hoursauay. VVhat
a strange perversion of taste !
NO. 44