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JUiS HENRY SEALS, )
and v Editors.
L, LINCOLN YEAZEr,) ■
NEf SERIES, VOL. t
. TIMPERMCE CRUSADER.
PUBLISHED , ?
EVtRY SATURDAY, EXCEPT TWO, Ilf THE YBAB,
BY JOHN 11. BKALS.
TERMS;
in advene*; or $3,00 at the end of the year.
RAT IS OF ADVRRnarXQ. *
1 aquar (twelve lines or le*s) first insertion,. -$1 00
Each continuance, 1 50
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tax lines, per year, 5 00
Announcing Candidates for Office, 8 00
.STANDING ADTRBTIBEAfKSrre.
3 square, three months, 6 00
1 square, six months,.. 7 00
3 square, twelvemonths, ......12 00
2 squares, “ “ 18 00
8 squares, “ “ .21 00
4 squares, M u .....25 00
not marked with the number
of insertions, will be. continued until forbid, and
charged accordingly.
Druggists, and others, may con
tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms.
LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS.
Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,... 500
Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,... 8 25
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 8 25
Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 00
Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n. 6 00
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guardi
anship, 8 25
LEGAL REQUIREMENTS.
J3alea of Land and Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to be
held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the
hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the after
noon, at the Court House in the County in which the
property is situate. Notices of these sales must be
given in a public gazette forty days previous to the
day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property most be
given at least ten days previous to the day of sale.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must
be published forty days.
Notice that application wQI be made to the Court
of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Negroes, most
bo published weekly for Uco months.
Citations for Letters of Administration most be
published thirty days —for Dismission from Admin
istration, monthly , six montto —for Dismission from
Guardianship, forty days.
Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage toast be pub
lished monthly for four months —for compelling titles
from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has
been given by the deoeasod, the full space ts three
months.
will always be continued accord
ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered.
The Law of Newspapers.
1. Subscribers who do not give express notice to
the contrary, are considered as wishing to continife
their subscription.
2. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their
newspapers, the publisher may continue to send them
until all arrearages are paid.
8. If subscribers neglect or refuse to take their
newspapers from the offices to which they are di
rected, they are held responsible ontH they have set
tled the bills and ordered them discontinued.
4. If subscribers remove to other places without
informing the publishers, an J the newspapers are
sent to the former direction, ther are held responsi
ble.
5. The Oonrts have decided that refusing to take
newspapers from the office, or removing and leaving
them uncalled for, is prima facie evidence of inten
tional fraud.
8. The United States Conris have also repeatedly
decided, that a Postmaster who neglects to perform
his duty of giving reasonable notice, as required by
tho Post Office Department, of tho neglect of a per
son to take from the office newspapers addressed to
him, renders the Postmaster liable to the publisher
for the subscription price.
JOB PRINTING,
of every description, done with neatness and dispatch,
at this office, and at reasonable prices for cash. All
orders, tn this department, must be addressed to
J. T. BLAIN.
PROSPECTTS
OF THE
TEMPERANCE (MAM
[quondam]
TEMPERANCE BANNER.
A CTUATED by a conscientious desire to further
jlTl the cause of Temperance, and experiencing
great disadvantage in being too narrowly limited in
space, by the smallness of onr paper, for the publica
tion of Reform Arguments and Passionate Appeals,
we have determined to enlarge it to a more conve
nient and acceptable size. And being conscious of
the fact that there are existing in the minds of a
large portion of the present r iaders of the Banner
and its former patrons, prejudices and difficulties
which can never be removed so long as it retains the
name, we venture also to make a change in that par
ticular. It will henceforth be called, “THE TEM
PERANCE CRUSADER.”
This old pioneer of the Temperance cause is des
tine! yet to chronicle the triumph of its principles.
It has stood the test—passed through the “fiery fur
nace,” and, like the “Hebrew children,” re-appeared
unscorched. It has su-vived the newspaper/<imine
which has caused, and is still causing many excel
lent journals and periodicals to sink, like “bright ex
halations in the evening,” to rise no more, and ft has
even heralded th* ’Meath struggles of many contem
poraries, laboring for the same great end with itself.
It “still lives,” and “waxing bolder as it grows older,”
is now waging an eternal “Crusade” against the “In
fernal Liquor Traffic,” standing like the “High Priest”
of the Israelites, who stood between the people and
the plague that threatened destruction,
We entreat the friends of the Temperance Cause
to give us their tnftuence in extending the ueelhlnese
of the paper. Wo intend presenting to the public a
sheet worthy of all attention and a liberal pfctronage:
for while it is strictly a Temperance Journal, we shall
endeavor to keep its readers poete# on all the current
events throughout the country.
gggf”Pr ! ce, ftfl a^ance.
’ Edltoraad Proprietor.
Sttoltlr to Ctmpermtff, HJoralito, JRtatjtrt, fatrsl Jntellignitt, JWra, so.
Proto Peterson’s Magazine.
THE HOLE IN THE STOCKING.
BY RLLfiM A3HTON.
“What a divine creature!” said Henry
Howard to his friend, Charles Townsend,
as they, stood together near the door of a
ball-room. “How gracefully she dances !
Did you ever see such a figure, such eyes,
or such a complexion ?”
“Ilandsome is as handsome does,” drily
replied his friend, quoting an old proverb,
and slightly shrugging his shoulders.
“Pshaw [’’retorted Harry,somewhat tes
tily. “One might as well look for enthusiasm
from a stone as from you.”
“You mustn’t expect enthusiasm for a
doll,” was the answer. “Miss Osborne is
no divinity, Harry; but if report speaks
truly, an unmitigated dowdv.”
“I won’t believe it,” said Harry, half an
grily. “It’s the gossip of those who envy
her. Such a beautilul creature could not
be untidy.”
His friend replied only by another shrug.
“I shall ask Mrs. Wharton -to introduce
me,” said, Harry, leaving his friend. “If
Miss Osborne proves as conversible as she
is handsome, you’ll not see me again to
night.”
Nor did Townsend get an opportunity to
speak to his friend again that evening.
Harry seemed enchanted with his new ac
quaintance. Townsend saw him hanging
on every word Miss Osborne spoke, watch
ing her every look, and scrutinizing jealously
every one she conversed with. Nor was
Townsend altogether surprised. For Miss
Osborne was as accomplished as she was
beautiful. She had moreover, a happy
flow ot spirits. She possessed, too, great
adaptability of character. She had discov
ered, directly, therefore, what subjects plea
sed Harry most; and being a bit of a co
quette, had resolved on his conquest imme
diately. She danced often with him, allow
ed him to take her down to supper, and
when he led her to her mother’s carriage,
said how pleased she would be to have hirn
call. By this time her victory was com
plete, and Harry went home to dream of
Miss Osborne, and to wonder if he really
was, as he said to himself, “the lucky fellow
to draw such a prize.”
To do the lady justice, it was not coquetry
alone, which made her voice, when she ask
ed Harry to call* tremble perceptibly. In
person, mind, and manners, he was superi
or; and Miss Osborne had the sense to see
appreciate this. Heretofore, in all her
many flirtations, her heart had never suffer
ed. But, on this: occasion, she also had
dreams; and they were of orange blossoms
and Harry Howard.
The next day, Townsend, after a late
breakfast, was sauntering down Chesnut
street, when he encountered Harry. The
latter could talk of nothing but Miss Os
borne. He confessed, at last, that he found
it impossible to settle himself down to read
ing, or indeed anything, and that he was
promenading to pass the time, till the con
ventional hour of making calls had come,
when he intended paying a visit to Miss
Osborne.
“I’ve never kept anything from you,
Townsend,” he said, “and I’ll acknowledge
that I’m over head and ears in love. If
she’ll have such a worthless fellow as my
self,” he added, energetically, “I’ll marry
her at once.”
His friend was about to say that she
would have Harry, to a certainty, since she
was of the kind to take him for his fortune,
even if she cared nothing for himself, when
his attention was attracted by a lady, who
at that instant, left a store, just ahead, and
began to hastily walk up the street. He
thought there was something familiar, in the
figure; hut if it was that of any one he knew,
it was now so slouched in a huge plaid
shawl, as not to be recognized. Harry, at
the same moment, noticed the lady.
“How I do hate,” he said, !*to see a wo
man “walking in that way. Observe her
now. It’s a sort of fast waddle, like that of
a duck trying to run. 4 Zounds 1 if I had a
wife that walked so vulgarly and fast, I’d
go crazy.”
“I believe you would, Harry, for I know
no naan more fastidious. But, don’t talk so
loud; the lady might overhear you.”
“Lady!” snid Harry, with a sneer. “She’s
some servant girl, who has run out to buy
a shilling’s worth of thread. Lady. m :
deed! Did you ever know a real lady to
walk in that fashion?” j ‘
“Yes 1 they can’t help their walk, yois
know.”
“Well, then, they can help dressing Irke a
dowdy, can’t they ?” lie spoke in a whis
per, admonished by Townsend’s look. ‘Look
how this nursery maid wears her clothes.
They're thrown on, not put on; her frock is
shorter, on one side than her skirt; and, as
I live, there’s a hole in her Stocking.”
Harry turned triumphantly to Townsend
as be spoke. The latter could no more de
ny this, than he could the general charge of
slovenliness which Harry had made. The
person before them, it was plain, if not u
servant girl, was an irreclaimable dowdy.
But Townsend, disposed to be charitable,
answered,# * ‘’ - ; . %
“What if 11ftre is a hole in her stocking ?
The neatest persons will sometimes be
eaught with one. They put a stocking on,
PENFIELD, GA, SATURDAY, JUNE 21, 1856.
which is perfect; but before they come home
it wears to a hole.” ‘ ‘
‘T know too much for that,” retorted*
Harry. “Ifeither of my sisters were to
make*such anexcuseto their mother, she’d 1 ’
tell them, that persons who were tidy, al
ways looked carefully at their garments,
before putting them on ”
“Hush!” said Townsend, for Harry had
raised his voice insensibly. “She knows
we are talking of her. Let’s pass her, for
to linger behind, now, would be rude.”
A few steps brought them to the side of
the lady. Neither Harry nor Tewnsend
could resist the desire to glance at her face
as they went oy. She wore a coarse veil,
which* she had drawn over her face for con
cealment; but a puff of wind just as they
passed, blew it aside; and loi Miss Somers
herself,
Harry never said a word, from that time
forward, about being in love with Miss Som
ers. Townsend wisely refrained from al
luding to the subject; but he was glad that
his friend has been cured ; for he knew too
much of the lady’s slovenliness, through his
sisters, to suppose she could ever have made
Harry happy.
There are other bail-room belles, besides
Miss Somers, who think it not
to go shopping, early in the morning, in the
most dowdyish garb. They should remem
ber,'timt, while gentlemen hardly ever no
tice whether a lady wears a brocade or
s;>;oa cheaper material, they are sure to see
am iking untidy about her dress, but espe
cially a HCL.E IN HER STOCKING.
THE DRUNKARD AND HIS STORY,
From the New York Five Point’s Month
ly Review, we select the following scene
from real lile;
A few Sunday's since, at morning ser
vice, one of the most degraded specimens
of humanity that ever greeted my vision,
came staggering into the chapel of the house
of Industry. His wild and frightful looks
and ragged and dirty beyond description, his
face bruised and swolen, rendered him an
object of disgust and terror.—He seemed to
looked at the children with wonderful inter
est, occasionally muttering to himself,
“Beautiful 1 beautiful 1 O, that mine were
here!” He sat nn'hoffr or two more and
then, with a long earnest look at the child
ren, staggered out of the chapel, went up to
the dark “valley of the shadow of death”—
Cow Bay.
As the bell rang for service in the after
noon, and while the children were cluster
ing together, the same wild-looking man
staggered in once more. He surveyed the
faces of the children with the closest scruti
ny, and at length his eyes rested on two
bright-eyed little girls, who were singing
one of their little hymns. He sat immova
ble as a statue during the whole service, ga
zing intently on the faces of these two chil
dren.
The service closed, the congregation dis
persed yet he lingered, and the tears,came
coursing down his face thick and fast.
Dr. S asked him “what was the
matter 7”
“I am a drunkard ! A wretch —an out
cast, homeless, and without a penny. Once
I had a home and friends- —father, mother,
wife, children and hosts ot friends, who
loved and respected me. Time passed on,
and I became a drunkard ! One iriend aft
er another left me; still I drank on, and down
down I fell. Father and mother went down
to their graves with broken hearts*. My
poor wife clung to me when all others de
serted me. I still drank on, pawned one
article after another till all was gone, and
when my wife refused to give me her wed
ding ring, which she had clung to with tena
city of a death grasp, I felled her to the
earth, seized her finger, tore off the ring and
pawned it for rum. That fatal blow mao
dened her, and, in despair, she drank, and
together we wallowed into the Pen
niless, we begged our way from Vermont
to this great city. Here we hired a small
cellar, in a dark dismal street, and sent our
children out to beg. Many a weary day
we spent in that dreary cellar, while our
children were wandering in the streets,
begging for their drunken parents. About
forty days since, my little girls went out to
beg, and from that hour to this, I have not
seen them.- Without food or fire, I have
clung to my dismal abode, till hunger forced
-me out tp search for my children. My de
'•graded wife had been sent to Blackwell s
Island as a vagrant, and alone I went to the
Island, to the House of Reform, to the
Tombs, and-in despair I wandered to the
Five Points, and for the last tew days I have
lived in Cow .Bay, among beggars and
thieves. To-day I saw two children, who,
j they had not looked so clean and sung so
sweetly, I would have called them mine.
jQt would to God they were
“'i ell me the name,” said Dr. S-
“and I will see.”
In a feu* moments two interesting little
child/ea were led toward him. At the sight
of this feavJul looking man thfey shrank
back. The poor man sprang to his feet,
exclaiming, “They are mine, my dear chil
dren, don’t you.know your poor old Either l
Come to me, my. children. Father loves
you; he wont hurt you.” He reached out
his arms; the little ones were timid at first,
but they soon climbed up their father’s knee
while the tears were streaming down his
face.
“Kiss your poor drunken father my chil
dren,” But the face of the man was so black
and filthy, not a place could be found. Soon
they forgot the dirty face, and remembered
their poor degraded father ; and each en
twining their little arms around his neck,
and londly kissing him, the elder one said,
with a voice that touched every heart,
•‘Father, we-are so happy here that we want
to stay. Won’t you come and live here too,
papa ? What makes you drink so? Dear
papa do sign the pledge, and not drink any
more. Mr. Pease found me in the street
begging, and now we feel happy. Do papa,
come and live here, and be as good aa you
used to be.”
The father’s heart was overwhelmed—he
sobbed and groaned aloud. For more than
an hour they sat together, till at last the old
man arose, still clinging to his children, and
exclaimed, “the pledge! the pledge ! I will
never drink again!”
I gave him the pledge, and from that hour
he has faithfully kept it. He is now a man
again, engaged in business, earning ten dol
lars per week, and none could recognize in
the well-dressed man-—who still boards in
the house—the degraded original, whose
portrait can still be seen at the House of In
dustry, daguerreotyped in its striking de
formity and squalor.
AN EASTERN LEGEND,
There is in Afghanistan, a country aboun
ding in legends; one to this effect: that Sa
tan entered into a compact with the people,
to teach them to cultivate the earth and
bring forth its fruits, the produce to be di
vided between them. The proposition, be
ing acceded to, the noil was prepared by the
labor of the people. Satan then produced
the seed, which in due course of time came
up carrots, turnips, and other vegetables,
the value of which lies beneath the ground.!
When the time of division arrived, the igno- i
rant people took that which was above the !
surface. Discovering their mistake, they !
complain loudly. Satan heard their lament- j
ings with composure, and then to‘soothe |
them, blandly promised that it should be dif
ferent next year. The people were to take
all the produce beneath the soil, and as Sa
tan had this time sown wheat, barley, and
such like grains, he obtained all the profit,
and they were tricked again, having nothing
for their share but useless roots.
This legend has u moral, Satan never
sows any seed in the human heart that brings
forth any fruit, by the growth of which any
but himself is the gainer. *
DE QUINCE Y THE OPIUM EATER.
It is related as an instance of De Quin
cey’s carelessness in money matters that,
having been once arrested for a debt of
twenty pounds in Edinburg, he was drag
ged to jail, where he remained for 2 weeks.
During the period of his incarceration his
daughter frequently visited him, and one
day brought him anew waistcoat, the one !
he then worer being somewhat shabby. Af- i
ter DeQuincy had taken off his old vest, his |
daughter carelessly examining the pockets I
discovered a banknote for thirty pounds, of
the existence of which her father had no
knowledge whatever, and with which, of
course, the twenty pound debt wag instant- j
iy discharged. De Quineey. when he writes
flings each sheet, as so -n as finished, over
his shoulder, and never sees them again.
His daughters gather up the scattered
leaves, arrange and correct them and hawk
them amongst the magazine editors for sale.
For a long time De Quincey’s nervousness
from opium was so great that he was oblig
ed to walk fourteen miles a day. in order to
procure two hours sleep at. night. The way
m which this was accomplished was curi
ous. The dreamer had a mile measured on
a neighboring road, and at one extremity
placed a heap of seven stones. When the
journey to commence, De Quineey look
up a stone and carried it to the other end of
the mile, then returned for another, until the
pile was exhausted. This necessity of car
rying the stones prevented De Quineey
from forgetting the number of miles he had
walked* which wouid otherwise be highly
probable.
THE PIN &NDTHE NEEDLE.
A pin and a needle being in a workbasket, j
and both being idle, began to quarrel, as
idle folks are apt to do.
“ I should like to know,” said the .pin,
“what you are good for, and how you ex
pect to get through the work without a
head?” “ ..
“What is tile use of Vour head,’ replied
the needle, rather, sharp!v. “it you have no
eye ?”
“What is JL lie use ot uu eye, said the pin,
“ifthere is always something m it and
“I am always active, and can go through
more work than you can,” said the needle.
“Yes; but you will not live long.
“Why not •?”
i “Because you have always a stitch in
your side,” said the pin.
“You’re a poor, crooked creature, said
the needle! ,
“And you are so proud that you can t
bend without breaking your back.’
“I’ll pull your head off if you insult me
again.” * ... ,
“I’ll pull out your eye it you touch me ;
remember your life hangs on a single tinead,
said-the pin. ...
While they were thus conversing, a little
girl entered, and undertaking to sow, she
verv soon broke oft the needle at the eye.
Then she tied the thread around the neck
of the pin, and attempting to sew with it,
she pulled its head oft', and. threw it into the
dirt by the side of the broken needle.
“Well, here we are,” said the needle.
“We have nothing to fight about now,”
said the pin. “It seems misfortune has
brought us to our senses.”
“A pity we had not come to them sooner,”
said the needle.
“Ilow much we resemble human beings,
who quarrel about their blessings till they
lose them, and never find out that they are
brothers till they'lie down in the dust to
gether, as we do.
THE WH^WOaiAN.
Her utranyc Appearance—The Story of
Her Capture—Uomance Realized.
Yesterday we called at the United
States Hotel to see the “Wild Woman of
Wachita Mountains.” Mr. J. W. G. North
eoti, her captor, introduced us into the
room where she is a prisoner. We saw a
tall, gracefully formed young white girl,
scant!y but neatly clothed, standing with
a stout rope about her waist aud attached
to a bed post. The first impression was
similar to that of being in the presence of
1 a fierce maniac.
She stood at the foot of the bed, partial
; fy hiding behind it and rocking slowly but
; with nervous uneasiness, from one foot to
j the other, and staring fixedly upon us
| with great bright unwinked eyes, so wild-
I ly opened that a ring of white surrounded
I the pupil, which with the wild and intense
glare of the orb, gave it a strange and
frightful expression. Beneath the eyes
were deep circles, showing long continued
and excessive excitement or exertion, men
t*dl or physical.
Her hair was long and thick, hanging
in heavy matted masses and wiry tangles
about her face, neck and shoulders, and in
color dark brown. Her complexion was
fair, even delicate, and her features decid
edly handsome. Her mouth is small and
finely formed, her lips thin and red, but
tightly compressed, and her teeth even
and whitto But there was not, that we
could discover, any trace of humor in her
face, and we were informed by her captor
! that he had never seen her smile,
| The woman employed by Mr Northeott
! o be attendant of his “pet,” as he calls
; her, says that she has seen the girl look
; pleased, even seemed* to be amused, but
! her lips never curled iiya smile, and noth*
! ipg like a laugh ever found utterance.—
j We need hardly say that she does not talk,
j The only sign she makes with her mouth
Ns a mumbling, moaning g:urnbling, with
l which, when hungry or thirsty, she ex
[ presses a desire to eat or drink.
! But -.ometimes, her attendant says, she
I looks with the most animated curiosity at
| her [the attendant,j and Mr, Northeott
when they are talking in her presence, and
seems to wonder how they make such
noises with their mouths, but they have
not succeeded in inducing her to imitate
them. Her nose is handsome, and her
Brofile well cut ana striking, but the only
indication of character in it is a kind of
untamed audacity.
There is nothing like timidity in her
looks, only the discomposure mingled with
defiance which gleams iu the eye of a pan
ther. The apperance of a maniac which,
to our glance, she was when we entered
her apartment, gradually passed away,
and there, was a softer expression, and
something like h gentle glow of .intelli
gence in her still vivid eye. Become more
composed, she sat down, and her uurse, at
our request, brushed back the tangles of
her hair, showing her cheeks and fore
head.
These were fair. The cheek was thin
but its Outlines quite womanly, and her
brow and temples show intellectuality of
oo mean or com mao. order. Whatever
she is or may have been, ahe was by na
ture gifted with capacities for higher intel
ligence'.
STOICY OF HKK OAPTUJKE.
The story of her capture, related by Mr.
| Northeott, is quite remarkable. In the
i Spring of 1855, Mr N., with a party of
: eight gold hunters, was sojourning iu the
J Waehita Mountains, on a branch of the
j False Waehita River, camped near an ex
| tensive and almost impenetrable thicket.
They were gold seekers, having been at
tracted thither by a false alarm that- there
was gold iu that region, which our readers
will remember had much newspaper cireala
tion, aucT as nearly as could be calculated,
their camp were three hundred miles dis
tant from tile frontier settlements of Tex
as, and what is familiarly called the Ca
; munche country.
One night in March it was his turn to
watch, and there was bright, unclouded
moonlight. In tiie middle of the night,
fie saw a figure approaching that seemed
to him to be a Oatnancho, aud he lay close
and at full length on the ground. The
figure approached, walking briskly, and
passing within twenty yards of him, enter
ed the thicket, and he saw by the moon
light that it was no Indian, but a young
white .woman, dressed in a robe of skins.
He was amazed beyond conception, and
told his companions of his discovery, but
they hooted at the idea, and contended
thut be had seen a Camanche, and that
■ they would uo longer be safe in that locali
ty, and so next day they- packed their
mules aud burred oft* for Texas in spite of
entreaties. They were all green in the
lore of baokwoodsuaeu, but h# bad spent
C TERMS: 01.00 IN ADVANCE.
J JAMES T. BLAIN, “ •
PRINTER.
VOL. XXMUMBSR 24.
twenty, years on the frontiers and knew
what he was about.
So strong an impression did this inci
dent make on his mind, that late this win
ter he enlisted half a dozen hardy fellows
to accompany him, and set torlh on a trip
to the Waehita Mountains on a bunt after
the wild woman. Bo many difficulties
were encountered, and the weather wag so
severe, that ail his companions but one
oacked out. He pressed forward, howev
er, and early in March reached the en
campment where he had seen the woman
entei the thicket. The first thing in order
was to search the thicket—and they were
not long in finding a kind of den, a little
cave, or rather a long and narrow aper
ture among the rocks, which be was con
vinced must be her hiding place. With
this conviction, be waited and watched for
her two days and nights, when she came
lorth. He says that he bad been afraid
to enter the den, and that now hia first
care was to stop up the mouth of it and
wait for her to come back.
After a few hours, she returned, and
took alarm on observing that her door in
the rocks was closed against her. He had
two dogs which he set upon her, and af
ter rutining about one hundred and fifty
yards, she turned about, as if confused in
her fright, and fled towards the cave. He
ran to meet her with a lasso in his hand,
and as she approached worried by the
dogs, he threw it over her neck and*called
off the dogs, and she, giving a spring, jerk
ed him to the ground, and at the second
leap threw herself, the noose having about
that time fastened about her throat aud
choked her. He then tied her, during
which operation she uttered such horrid
screams that the hair stood upon his head,
and he had the most singular and awful
feelings he ever experienced.
After securing the girl he'entered her
den and found there large quantities of
mites and berries and roots, such as could
be gathered and digged in the vicinity.—
The priucinal fruit was a kind of large red
haws, which were thereabout very abun
dant, and she bad a kind of nest To sleep
in, while every thing indicated her utter
solitude. The garment which she wore
was of skins, queerly tied together, with
j bits of leather, and also with a kind of
! grass. The skins were those of a large
I animal, neither elk or buffalo, Mr. North
| cott says, aud the hunters could not tell ex
■ actly from what manner of beast they
were taken. It was his opinion that she
had found an animal dead, or that she
might have beed attabked by and master
ed some beast.
But there is an air of improbability
about this that the strange and almost ter
rible reality of the woman herself does not
quite dispel; and we have not room here,
now to argue the point. The garments
were so strong, says Mr. N., that they
protected the female from the teeth of his
dogs. For five days after her capture his
pet refused to take food, but then partook
of red haws. She was taken the three
hundred miles intervening, between her
den and the nearest civilized settlements
in Grayson 00., Texas, with a rope about
her waist, the ends of which were in the
hands of himself and hiscomrade, while the
dogs followed after. As soon as he could
procure it, he had a hack so fixed as to make
of the body a kind of cage, in which he
confined her, and conveyed her safely, un
til he finally got her on a steamboat. She
arrived here on the steamer Hickman.
For a time she rejected all prepared food,
but now she will eat almost anything that
is offered, that is not very salt or very
sweet. Mr. Northcott says his great ob
ject now is to civilize her, to learn her to
talk, and to hear her story, for he thinks
he is sure that she has talked at some day,
and that she has a dim notion of having
long ago been with folks similar to those
she now finds herself with. He is impres
sed from observing her that this is the
fact, and thinks that the presence of civil
ized faees ; and being in houses, etc., etc.,
has caused dormant memories to faintly
revive. He disavows any intention to
make a speculation out of her, and says
that he will only take money from visitors
that he may use it for her benefit.
He shrinks from no examination on the
subject, aud has called several physicians
to look at his strange pet. If this is a
hoax, and it is so wonderful that we are’
not able to give it fu4l credit, the girl
(whose age is, perhaps, twenty-two or
three,) looks the character she is made to
personate so consumautely that the like
was never before heard of, or dreamed. —
We would have it thoroughly understood
that this is no exaggerated puff of a show*
man but a plaiu and sober narative of
that which we saw, and which was in the
utmost apparent good faith related to us,
and which seems to be a veritable realiza
tion of Romance.— Cincinnati Commercial .
THE PRETTY WIDOW.
A pretty little widow dwelleth in a little
street, and she has a pair of pretty eyes,
and two pretty little feet. No matter what
her name is, or the number of the house—
she’s a mighty pretty widow, a perfect lit
tie mouse. The rose and lilly blended live
upon her dimpled cheek, and her lips give
them expression—oh so lovely and so meek.
Her hands are white and tender, but per
wooers sadly fear, she’ll get them stainid..-*
and painted up, by handling lager beer . H