Newspaper Page Text
Here and there,women said it really
was too much for their spirits to go
to church, and they staid away;—
and the boys and girls took the op
portunity to go spying upon the rab
bits. It was such boys and girls
that gave news of Mr. Finch during
the week. Every morning he was
so busy over bis books in his study,
that it was no easy matter to get a
sight of him ; and every fine alter
noon he went quietly by a bye-path
to a certain spot on the moor, where
an ostler from the| Cross Keys at
O , was awaiting him with the
horse on which he took long rides
over the hills. Mr. Finch was ta
king care of his health.
CHAPTER 11.
‘‘Can 1 have a chaise ?” inquired
a young lady, on being set down
bv the coach at the Cross Keys, at
O .
“Yes, ma’am, certainly,” replied
.the neat landlady.
“How far do you call it to Blea
fbuns?”
*“To Bleaburn, ma’am ! It is six
“miles. But, ma’am, you are not
going to Bleaburn, surely,”
“Indeed I am. Why not?”
“Because of the fever, ma’am.
There never was anything beard of
like it. You cannot go there, I as
sure you, ma’am, and 1 could not
think of sending a chaise there.
Neither of my post-boys would go.”
“One of them shall take me as
near as is safe, then. I dare say
we shall find somebody who will
lake care of my little trank till lean
send for it.”
“The cordon would take care of
your trunk, if that were all, but—”
“The what?” interrupted the
3’oung lady.
“The cordon, they call it, ma’am.
To preserve ourselves, we have set
people to watch on the moor above,
to prevent anybody from Bleaburn
corning’ among us, to spread the
fever. Ma’am, it is worse than any
thing you ever heard of.**
“Not worse than the plague,”
thought Mary Pickard in whose
mind now rose up all she had read
and heard of the horrors of the great
plague, and all the longing she had
felt when a child to have been a
clergyman at such a time, or at least,
a physician, to give CQlfifod |o
numbers in their extremity.
“Indeed, ma’am,” resumed the
landlady, “you can not go there. By
what I hear, there are very few
now that are not dead, or down in
the fever.”
“Then they will want me ihc
mor e.” coid Mm j Pickard. “1
must go and see my aunt. I wrote
to her that I should go; and she
may want me more than I thought.”
“Have you an aunt living at
Bleaburn?” asked the landlady, in
some surprise. “I did not know
that there was any lady living at
Bleaburn, I thoughtthey had been
all poor people there.”
“I believe my aunt is poor,” said
Mary. “1 have heard nothing of
her for several years, except mere
ly that she was living at Bleaburn.
She had the education of a gentle
woman ; but I believe her husband
became a common labourer before
he died. lam from America, and
my name is Mary Pickard, and my
aunt’s name is Johnson ; and 1 shall
be glad ifyou can tell me anything
about her, if this fever is really ra
ging as you say. I must see her
before I go home to America.”
“You see, ma’am, if you go,”
said the landlady, contemplating
the little trunk, “you will not be able
to come away again while the fever
lasts.”
“And you think I shall not have
clothes enough,” said Mary smiling.
“I packed my box for a week only,
but I dare say I can manage. If
everybody was ill, I could wash
my clothes myself. I have done
such a thing with less reason. Or,
I could send to London for more. I
suppose one can get at a post-
Office ”
“Through the cordon, I dare say
you might, ma’am. But, really, 1
don’t know that there is anybody at
Bleaburn that can write a letter,
except the clergyman and the doc
tor and one or two more.”
“My aunt can,” said Mary, “and
it is because she does not answer
our letters, that I am so anxious to
see her. You did not tell me wheth
er you know her name, —Johnson.”
“A widow, I think you said,
ma’atn.” And the landlady called
to the ostler to ask him if he knew
anything of a Widow Johnson, who
lived at Bleaburn. Will Ostler
said there was a woman of that
name who was the mother of Silly
Jem. “Might that be she ?” Mary
bad never heard of Silly Jem; but
when she found that Widow Johnson
had a daughter, some years marri
ed, that she had white hair, and
•troa g black eyes, and a strong face
altogether, and that she seldom
spoke, she had little doubt that one
so like certain of her relation was
her aunt. The end of it was lhat
Mary went to Bleaburn. She or
dered the chaise herself, leaving it
to the landlady to direct the post
boy where to set her down ; she ap
pealed to the woman’s good feelings
to aid her if she should find that
wine, linen or other comforts were
necessary at Bleaburn, and she
could not be allowed to come and
buy them : explained that she was
far from rich, and told the exact sum
which she at present believed she
should be justified in spending on
behalf of the sick ; ‘and gave a re
ference to a commercial house in
London. She did not tell—and in
deed she gave only a momentary
thought to it herself—that the sum
of money she had mentioned was
that which she had saved up to take
her to Scotland to see some friends
of her family, and travel through
the Highlands. As she was driven
off from the gateway of the Cross
Keys, nodding and smiling from
the chaise window in turning the
corner, the landlady ceased from
commanding the post-boy on no ac
count to go beyond the brow, and
said to herself ihat this Miss Pickard
was the most wilful young lady she
had ever known, but that she could
not help liking her, too. She did not
seem to value her life any more
than a pin ; and yet she appear
ed altogether cheerful and sen
sible. If the good woman had been
able to sec into Mary’s heart, she
would have discovered that she had
the best reason in the world for
valuing life very much indeed: but
she had been so accustomed, all her
life, to help everybody that needed
it, that she naturally went straight
forward into the business, without
looking at difficulties or dangers, on
the right hand or the left.
Mary never, while she lived, for
got this drive. Her tone of mind
was, no doubt, high though she was
unconscious of it. It was a splen
did August evening, and she had
never before seen moorland. In
America, she had travelled among
noble inland forests, and a hard
granite region near the coasts of
New England : but the wide-spread
• | w , i
Mg brown and green moorland,
with its pools of clear brown water
glittering in the evening sunshine,
and its black cocks popping out of
the heather, and running into the
hollows, was quite new to her. She
looked down, two or three, limes,
| - *
mlon wiwb.J Jolt where grey cot
tages were scattered among the
coppices, anti a little church tower
rose above them ; but the swelling
ridges of the moor, with the tarns
between, immediately attracted her
eye again.
“Surely,” thought she, “the cor
don will let me walk on the moor in
the afternoons, il l go where I can
not infect any body. With a walk
in such places as these every day,
I am sure I could go through any
thing.”
This seemed very rational before
hand. It never entered Mary’s
head that for a long while to come,
she should not never once have
leisure for a walk.
“Yon’s the cordon,” said the
post-boy, at last, pointing with his
whip.
“ What do you understand by a
cordon ?”
“ Them people that you may see
there. I don’t know why they call
them 60 ; for I don’t hear that they
do any with a cord.”
“Perhaps it is because there is a
French word — Cordon —that means
any thing that encloses any other
thing. They would call your hat
hand a cordon, and an officer’s sash
and a belt of trees round a park.
So, I suppose these people sur
round poor Bleaburn and let no
body out.”
“May be so,” said the man, “hut
I don’t see why we should go to the
French for our words or anything
else, when we have everything
better of our own. For my part,
1 shall be beholden to the French
for no word, now I know of it. I
shall call them people the watch, or
something of that like.”
“I think I will call them messen
gers,” said Mary: “and that will
sound least terrible to the people be
low. They do go on errands, do
not they,—and take and send par
cels and messages.^”
“They are paid to do it, Miss:
but they put it upon one another,
or get out of the way, if they can.—
they are so afraid of the fever, you
see. 1 think we must stop here,
please, Miss. I could go a little
, nearer, only, you see—.”
“I see that you are afraid of the
| fever too,” said Mary, with a smile,
as she jumped, out upon the grass.
One of the sentinels was within bail.
Glad of the relief from the dullness
of his watch, he came with alacrity,
took charge of the little trunk, and
offered to show the lady, from the
brow, the way down the hollow to
the village.
The post-boy stood, with his mon
ey in his hand, watching the retreat
ing lady, till, under a sudden im
pulse, he hailed her. Looking
round, she saw him running towards
her, casting a momentary glance
back at his horses. Fie wanted to
try once more to persuade her to
return to O ■. He should he so
happy to drive her back, out oi the
way of danger. His employer
would he so glad to see her again !
When he perceived that it was no
use talking, he went on touching his
hat, while he begged her to take
hack the shilling she had just given
him. It would make his mind easi
er, he said, not to take money for
bringing any lady to such a place.
Mary saw that this was true ; and
she took hack the shilling, promising
that it should be spent in the servi
ces of some poor sick person.
To be continued next ivccJc .
LIVE FOR SOMETHING.
Thousands of men breathe, move,
and live—pass off the stage of life,
and are heard of no more. Why ?
They did not a particle of good in
this world, and none were blessed
by them ; none could point to them
as the instrument of their redemp
tion ; not a line they wrote, not a
word they spoke, could be recalled,
and so they perished ; their light
went out in darkness, and they were
not remembered more than the in
sect ofyesterday. Will 3'ou thus live
and die, O man immortal'? Live for
something. Do good, and leave be
hind you a monument of virtue, that
the storm can never destroy. Write
your name by kindness, love and
mercy on the heart of the thousands
you come in contact with year by
3“car, and you will never be forgot
ten. No, 3'our name—deeds will
be as legible on the hearts you leave
behind, as the stars on the brow of
evening. Good deeds will shine as
brightly on the earth as the stars of
heaven. — Dr. Chalmers,
Slander. —A celebrated charac
ter, who was surrounded b\ T ene
mies, used to remark ; —“They are
sparks which, if you do not blow,
will go out of themselves.” Let
this he your feeling while endeavor*
inn lolivflfinwntlip scandal nltUo
who are hitter against 3 r ou. If you
slop to dispute, you do but as they
desire, and open the way for more
abuse. Let the poor fellows talk—
there will be hut a reaction. If yon
perform hut your duty, hundreds
who were once alienated from you
will flock to you and acknowledge
their error.
Instead of slapping and shaking
crying babies press your finger
gently and repeatedly across the
cartilage of its nose, and in a few
minutes it will he asleep. It is kind
of sedative.
A Painter's Revenge. —The Italian
painter, Barici, had painted a rich
gentleman, who afterwards refused
to pay the fixed price.—What did
Barici ? He kept the portrait, and
painted with water-colors iron
staves or bars over it, and hung the
prisoner in his window until the
rich man glad to he released from
the view of the public, paid the
price. Then Barici rubbed off the
staves.
The natives of Egypt believe that
there is great virtue in a lie ; so that
if dyers, for example, find that their
dye in the vats takes in an inferior
manner, the3* think it incumbent on
them to spread some report the
most unfounded and absurd possi
ble. If it obtains credit, the evil
they complain of is at once reme
died.
Con* —Wli3 r are two “t’s” like hops?
Because they make beer better .
An Imprudent Thief. —‘A few days
ago,’ says one of the Madrid jour
nals, ‘a police agent, in going his
rounds, heard the cries of Murder!
Help !’ and on hastening to the
spot found a young man bleeding
from the nose. This man related
that he had been stopped by a thief,
who, had taken his watch and iii
treated him. ‘That is not true,’
cried the thief, who stood at a little
distance. ‘I meant to have taken
his watch, but found he had none,
and the chain he wore was onty
copper. So, as a lesson to him not
to deceive men of my profession for
the future, I thrashed him.’ The
police agent hastened after the rob
ber, but the latter got off clear.’
ORIGINAL POETRY.
RETROSPECTION.
BY
Now, thou say’st thou did’st love mp (
Even when thou said’st me “no !”
What, oh! what did ever move thee,
Thus to compass so much wo ?
Oh ! we have deceived each other ;
Nought remains but bitter pain,
And to try the voice to smother
That the heart speaks—oh ! how vain !
Nothing now remains but sadness,
And the mem’ry of the past;
Sighing a farewell to gladness,
Like the dying of the blast.
Once, my heart’s wings hover’d o’er thee,
Seoking sympathy with thine ;
Once, my soul bowed down before thee,
As the Pilgrim at a shrine.
Now that heart is crush’d and blightod ;
Now each sympathy is dead ;
And that soul no more is lighted,
By the joys—forever fled.
4
Now the hopes that once I cherish’d,
Off’ring my heart’s wealth to thee :
Now, alas ! those hopes have perished,
Like a wavelet in life’s sea.
Now the merry laugh and greeting,
Now the longing hopes and fears,
Now the hours, loved but fleeting,
Languish thro’ a veil of tears.
Why did’st scorn a heart so loving ?
Why bent down a loving soul ?
Whilst within thine own was moving
Sympathy beyond control?
Thou did’st crush a heart’s affection,
Even when thine own beat fast;
Nought is left but deep dejection,
And the mein’ry of the past.
Nought remains but bitter grieving,
O’er the fate so madly sought;
Both thyself and mo deceiving,
In the falsehood thou hast wrought.
For thou say’st thou did’st love mo.
Even when thou said’st me “no!' 1
What, then, what did ever move thee,
Thus to compass so much wo ?
Savannah, Sept. 14 ih, 1850.
Ciutnrwl idtnnittgs.
Accidents. —Philosophically and religiously
considered, is there any such tiling as an accident ?
There is not,— there cannot he. Tu SUpi)OSQ ||)C
existence of such a power as chance, holding in
its hands our property, our lives, and our dearest
interests, and making blind sport of them, would
be the grossest irreligion—it would he worse than
Turkish fatalism. To hold such a belief is to
deny the Providence of Ciod ; nay, it is to estab
lish a power higher than God, and able to thwart
Hiidivinoplans.n<l oppw Ilia dnine will; a
power, too, sometimes benevolent, but never gui
ded by wisdom, and totally regardless of principle
and law. Is it possible that Cinistians, that re
ligious men, that any rational and thinking man
can entertain such a belief? It is not possible if
they stop to reflect; a very little consideration
will be sufficient to show that there cannot be, in
truth, any such blind power as chance thus trifling
with our happiness and with all that we hold dear,
and if there be no such power, then there is no
such thing as an accident. No ! Every thing that
we call an accident, from the smallest circum
stance in the private daily 1 life of an individual, to
the greater events that affect the fortunes and
lives of hundreds, and the greatest that influence
directly the destinies of nations, and of all man
kind —all, all are the workings of Divine Provi
dence—and even with an end to good, and the
greatest good. It is a hand that is then moving
through an unseen one : an lit is abenificent and
all powerful one: it is that hand that grasps the
universe, which measures the waters in its hollow,”
and “ woighoth the maintains in scales,” and
“ taketh up the isles as a very little thing.”— Rev.
T. O. Prescott.
Envy.—Almost every other crime is practised
by the help of some quality, which might have
produced esteem or love if it had been well em
ployed; but envy is a more unmixed and genuine
evil, it pursues a hateful end by despicable means,
and desires not so much its own happiness as an
other’s misery. To avoid depravity like this, it
is not necessary that any one should aspire to
heroism or sanctity, but only that he should re
solve not to quit the rank which nature assigns,
and wish to maintain the dignity of a human
being.— Rambler.
The human mind if often influenced by asso
ciation, while immediate impression is all that it
takes cognizance of at the moment. Thus a
splendidly dressed woman entering the parlor of
a farm house, or a tradesman’s drawing-room,
bursts upon the sight us an astounding and almost
monstrous spectacle ; and we are scarcely aware
that the repulsion we instantaneously experience
arises front a secret conviction of how much the
gorgeous fabric must have cost the wearer, in
time, and thought, and money; especially when
we know that the same individual is under the
necessity of spending her morning hours in culi
nary operations, and is, or ought to be, the sharer
of her husband’s daily toil. — Mrs. Ellis.
Such is woman, —her tears are with her God,
her smiles with man; the heart may break, and
who shall know it ?— Grace Aquilar.
There is always a strong reaction of the mind
when a man, however brave, has escaped from a
danger that appears imminent. What warrior is
not glad when the battle is over? What sailor
does not rejoice when the storm is past ? Does
not the huntsman feel it when he has safely sur
mounted some dangerous leap ? But, above all,
when the earth has rocked under the feet, when
the mountains have been bowed down to the
valleys, when the crash of falling cliffs, and the
rattle of the earthquake have sounded in the ear,
then the moment that convulsed and heaving na
ture has resumed her tranquility, does not the
blood rush circling again through the veins?—
does not, as it were, anew life resuscitate the
fainting heart? New dangers may arise, but this
is past and gone; One escape seems the pledge
of future deliverances. — Milman.
The world sees hut the surface of life; it knows
not what little things may influence and guide,
and how much female friendship, in general so
scanned and scoffed at, may be the invisible means
of strengthening in virtue, comforting in sorrow,
and, without once interfering with any nearer or
dearer tie, may heighten inexpressibly the happi
ness and well doing of each — Grace Aquilar.
FRIEND OF THE FAMILY.
SAVANNAH, OCTOBER 5, 1850.
thanks arc due and we respectfully ten
der them to the lion. J. M. Berrien, Wm. C.
Dawson, and Jos. W. Jackson, for copies of val
uable public documents.
advertising friends will oblige us by
sending in their favors by Thursday afternoon or
Friday morning, 10 o’clock at the latest, as we
have to go to press early on Friday afternoon.
Arthur’s Homs Gazette.
We had the pleasure yesterday of sending a list
of 13 subscribers, to this valuable family paper,
and will be pleased to order it for any of our sub
scribers, at $1 50, or,
We will sendacopv of the Friend of the Fami
ly and Arthur’s Home Gazette for one year, to any
person sending us three dollars, postage paid.
Or, the Friend of the Family and Godey’s La
dy’s Book, or, Graham’s Magazine, for one year,
for four dollars.
Or, the Friend of the Family and the Daily
Morning News, for one year, for five dollars.
JtdF’The fine bracing weather that wo have had
for a week past, has checked the broke bone fever
and made a change of apparel very necessary.
Finer weather for harvesting Rice or picking Cot
ton could not he desired.
We would call the attention of the
Ladies particularly, to the advertisement of
Mr. Francis Kopinan, No. 10£ Bryan-street,
who has just opened anew and elegant
stock, embracing every variety, quality and
description of Ladies’ shoes, slippers and gai
ters, of the most fashionable styles ; also, a
great variety of Children and Misses’ shoes
and gaiters.
AReciprocal.
The season of recreation and leisure with
us, is now ended : instead of wending our
way North, as heretofore, for health, and in
search of pleasure, we have, many of us, re*
JOl'lfld to tllO Up Country, and have realized
all that we anticipated in the beautiful scene
ry and the refreshing mountain breezes of
upper Georgia. Now approaches the time,
when, tile planter too, finds rest from his la
tors. His crop soon, will be safely 7 gathered
and sent to market; and in way of rec-
IMtion ft Visit to lift own little Seaport Sa
vannah, will, very naturally, suggest itself to
his mind. I must, reciprocate, says he—good
indeed, tho best results will be experienced
in these mutual interchanges; yes, come
along good farmer, we love to see the ruddy
liospitablo faces of our country friends, to
grasp them by the hand, and assure them of
a hearty welcome. We have much to please
as well as interest both yourselves and fami
lies : our Gas works, many of you have not
seen; our new public buildings; Steam Ships;
Boats and Shipping ; our Colton Presses,
Machine Shops and Steam Mills ; our Dry
Docks and Ship yards; as well as the numer
ous stores, filled with every variety and de
scription of goods, some of them not sur
passed in any city in the Union, cannot fail
to interest and be a source of gratification to
you. Places of amusement will also very
soon be open, which must greatly enhance
the pleasure of a visit, to the city ; and last of
all, those of you who send cotton by the
Road, through the liberality of the Directors
of Central Rail Road are, entitled to ride free,
which you will not consider unimportant.—
We will only ndd, every thing is favorable—
come and see for yourselves.
Want of Houses.
The scarcity of houses, as well as stores,
is beginning to be felt as a serious evil, as in
the course of last week considerable design
ing for interest sake has been perpetrated—
causing much unpleasantness. We have
heard of one individual trying to rent the
stores over the heads of three different ten
ants, offering, as inducement to the owners,
higher rent, he was, however, treated with
the scorn he merited, except in one instance,
and here the tenant being already in posses
sion’ he was frustrated in his base design
It is to bo regretted that necessity exists to
cause such implication, besides there are sev
eral other instances in our knowledge where
much ingenuity has been practiced, in order
to secure houses already rented. What in
such a case is to be done? Our mechanics
have their hands full, and the wages of Car
penters and Masons have advanced in the
course of three months, from a dollar and
seventy five cents per day, to two dollars
twenty five cents, and at that price there are
not enough of them to meet the demand, —
They are working early and late to finish their
present contracts, hoping to make others on
better terms. There is a class of buildings
which have lately been almost entirely over
looked, and for which thero is greater need
than of any others, viz : such as would bring
from 150, to $250 per annum, and although
wages and material, too, are advancing, we
have been assured by Mechanics, who are
competent to judge, that by putting up five or
six of them in a block, a very profitable in- i
vest ment would be made, i
[BY TELEGRAPH.]
Arrival of the Steam Ship Cam) • I
ADVANCE IN COTTON
The Cambria has arrived brin°ino
dates to the2l st ult. Cotton has mlvo. ?°1
• i v * V( *ncp(j it is]
with sales of 67,000 bales, Speculators took *
bales. Stock on hand 451,000 bales. Q u “
Uplands Gs to 8£ ; Orleans 6$ to 10A - fai, 0 ?!' o "’®
Bd. f Uil €|
An advance has also taken place in tl c
market at Havre. ° ol ' o, >
Coffee has advanced 2to 3 shillings f or q
Flour is unchanged. Wheat has declined j’ j
Corn is inactive, yellow 27 s. white 27<. (j,j
The provision market is but little changed ~ 3 '**
The steamship Atlantic arrived out on Ti
and the Europa on Wednesday.
oy One of the most spl^Ltid" estnbtigli.
meats of which our city can boast, is the p
niture store of Messrs. I. W. Al orre II A (
All that ingenuity can devise, or skill e\e,,, ’
is to be seen hero; every article both”j
luxury and comfort, may be obtained here
The rich can *'■• themselves of lhe m °J
cence suited to a palace, and the pooi°, m ,.
such as his means can supply—j n , WorJ “ [
Northern city can boast of a larger, or be;* r
assortment of fine and beautiful furniture 6
than is to be found in this spacious store. ’ I
LIT Messrs. Verstille, Luffburrow <fc B ut .
ler announces a fine and well selected assort
ment of all kinds and varieties of Shoe ?
Slippers and Gaiters, to which wo take I
sure in inviting the attention of the public!
generally. Planters will do well to look at
their assortment of Brogans, before pureba
sing elsewhere.
The New Steam-Ship Florida.
Tho public were not a little disappointed I
at her non-arrival upon the day advertised ]
which we have been informed was owingto
the utter impossibility of finishing her at th
time specified. We must call info exercise
a little patience upon the subject, if is proba
ble she may be here Tuesday next, but there
being some uncertainty 7 about it, we will not
advise you to look out.
The Central Rail Road.
Fifteen years has elapsed since the ground
was first broken for the construction of this
road, and many who bore the brunt conse
quent upon such an arduous undertaking,
are now living witnesses of its abundant \
prosperity : others have passed from the
stage of action, whose memory will ever be
cherished in connection with the earliest
events in the history of our Road. It would
be utterly useless to enumerate all that has
already been accomplished, and the great [(•
suits that are even now being realized, nil
this is extensively known and generally ac
knowledged ; suffice it to say, it has exceed
ed not only the bounds of limitation sot for
it, but the utmost conceptions of its most
sanguine friends, A few years ago we were
considered presumptuous for indulging and
giving expression to such sanguinary nx|>cc
tations, but we earnestly contended for them
and have not been disappointed. Who then
believed when the Bonds of this Road were
selling for forty dollars in the hundred, that
the day would come when the receiptswould
I exceed two thousand dollars a day for nu
average of the year. The highest possible
amount that they could think it capable of
yielding, was one thousand dollars per day,
and yet wo are probably as far from tho con
summation, as from tho beginning of its
prosperity. Nothing short of the perse
verance. energy, and economy that has not
only characterised, but signalized, its man
agement, could have produced such results.
No money has been wasted in experiments,
and order and system was established front
its earliest infancy. It was on this Road that
the Ticket system was first introduced, and
to its first superintendant of transportation
does the honor belong of making the first
schedule to run the trains by, ever used in
this country or Europe, and to which system,
in a very great measure, may bo attributed
the freedom from accidents by which this
Road is signalized ; and it is without doubt,
one of the safest in the country, find is at
present in the best possible condition for
travel, for although doing such an immense
business, it really occurs that the passenger
trains are behind the time. The Road is
well stocked with motive power, having 28
engines, four of which, viz : the Louisiana,
the Macon, the Augusta and Kentucky, they
are just in receipt, and two others on the
way, each are in complete order for the Fall
business. In addition to which they have about
three hundred burthen cars capable ot car
rying 18,000 lbs. of freight each. To form
a correct idea of the despatch with'which
business is done, a person has but to got°
the receiving warehouse and take a seat
for an hour or two, and see the immense
quantities of goods that come in at one doot
and are immediately loaded on the cars to be
sent off the next day. About two weeks
since, there were thirteen vessels in p ort
discharging at the same time, a large portion
of whose cargoes was to go forward by tho
Road, but they caused no derangement, & s
many as twenty-eight cars, equal to
waggon loads of 4000|bs. each,or in the aggre
gate to 504,0001b5. was received and loaded in
a day, and this was the case for several day*
in succession. Last Winter, soon after the
new India Rubber springs were put on the
Passenger cars, we took a trip over the Roau (
and after travelling the 190 miles in Hi
hours, fstoppages included.) we felt no more
fatigue than we would have done in ft riJ®
of twenty or thirty miles in a carriage. Th®
passenger cars are kept in the most cleanly
manner, in fact we may say without bonst,
that there is uot a better managed Road > n
the country.
v