Crawfordsville Review, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 15 August 1857 — Page 1

IEW SERIES--VOL. IX, 10. 4.

DEATH SONG OF COMMODORE LAWBENCE.

A poem delivered at tlic Tale College Commencement, July 30, by Francis M. Pinch, Esq., of the class of 1849. ,* I am dyijtg, comrade* t'

Faint and Blow .» Like the beating

ri Of an eagles brokra wlnfr, Is the fleeting Footsteps of tho artery-kin#,

So the crimion currents flow Carry mo below.

Lift me gently comrades Do not mind— ,t Lest tho gunner Deem tho panic in your trend

Snre forerunner

O a a a Kro tho victory wreath is twined! a in in

Not a murmur, comrade?,

v••••: Not a tear 1 Death is gentle Wbon the penitent's prayer is prayed

When the rental

Due for lifo and health is paid, A A he on as is a Rest and sleep are near.

Leave mo, leave mo, comrades I Climb the stair Mood and battle, Crash of spliiterod yard and spar,

Musket rattle,

1

Tell the terrible tale of war, .* Till our banners victory wear,

Up

and

Icat'cmn,

Cloud and billow,

*•••'The voioo of 1 ight delights thoear. And floats along tl.c lea, love, .lint tljine, more sweet, 1 wait to hear,

Breathe one fi nd word for me, lovoi Ivreathe one fond woid for me!

•••••Lot beauty weave her magic spell, It lias no charms for mo, love -.Sinec Una loved thee, 0 how well. .My heart is tnsu to thee, io\t! .My heart is true to thee!

Where'er the I'K.-s of balmy sleep Krom care slmll set thee free, love, And angels watch around tlice keep.

Iiriglit be tliv dreams of 111c. love! Bright bo th dreams of me!

Bui now, while moonbeams crown the night. And slumber 011 the sea, love, And all the stars above are bright.,

Awake, and smile on me, love! Awake, and smilo on mi'!

TO THE DONOR OF A ROSE.

The poet's soul is a rare white rose, Close to the feet of God it grows, Whcro never a wind of passion blows.

And the lovo of a poet is pure and fair As the fadeless roses and angels wear, Crowning the shine of their golden Jiair.

This tlower you send is a royal red, As though an earthly love instead— Bo thou a part of my life—had said

But o'er tho rich hues of this blossom fine From the crimson cup of a kiss divine— I pour my soul like a glorious wine—

I pour my soul, and over tho rim Of its Circcan Sea thy soul doth swim Full-sailed with the wings of a seraphim!

BEAl'X IN DEMAND.

For the benefit and comfort of stay-at-home and nnti-watering-place ladies, we roproduee the following paragraph of a letter to the Philadelphia Bulletin, from Atlantic City:

The general subject of complaint at present among the many attractive young ladies, here, is the great lack of beaux.— Some comfort they find in the report that the belles of Newport have at present far greater cguse of complaint—being compelled in their evening promenades, it is said, to go two and two, like the inmates of a fashionable boarding school on an evening promenade. We are not as yet quite so far gone here—our impromptu evening dances being generally a fair and impartial' mixture of broadcloth and muslin. But there is a grand chance still left for a. few single gentlemen, who are as yet running "inside of forty," and I cordially recommend a few who can come well recommended, to buy a ticket for this place and enter themselves for the vacant beau-ships of which, (like Smith's celebrated rators,) '"there are a few more still left." Teil your friends to try this, before seeking more distant watering places, where, as Father O'Leary said to the men who didn't believe in purgatory, "they may go further and fare worse."

KiTFourteen or fifteen persons were killed by lightning week be/ore last, in different parts of the Union.

A N I E E

B? SKETCH.

&

Not ono.blood-drop spare.

comrades

Ashen lip Marlts tho craven.

Think not now of eurec and err, Home or heaven. Till tho lion-ponnens fly Let not onored moment slip

Don't give up the ship

Bury ine, my conn-ado-*, On the shore, "Nofttii the willow. 5'in tirort of wind and storm,

And the battle's crcsccnt form—... Glory.diiiiger, strife are o'er— Litwrence tails 110 more

I.ny mi", gcutla eomralc!.

1 Where tho drip of tho foti'itain .i. Sings its long and lulling song! Where the mountain

Oislsi!squiet shade along. ,, Thought is dying 011 my lip— Don't give nji the *hi|!

SERENADE.

Awake! the moonbeamserown the Uigltt Andslumbcr on the sen, love, r'.And all the rtturs above ara luiijlit,

A wako from dreams of mo, love! A)vnkc ftviu (beams of me!

..Fweet ilioeliM! pirtiM fr-M Jewv fit uinblcin pure, of llieu. 1-jve. And zephyrs come from honied lluv.-e:-*:

Awukc, u:.d list to mo, love! Awake, and list to me!

She w«*-a winsome girl never was one more 00. Her home was in the opening of a gorge of the mountain where the ravine spreads into a'valley, not very wide, watered by a stream that dashed wildly over the rocks a little farther up. The broad, low cottage of the Widow Grey (as I will call her, by your leave, although I need not say I use a fictitious name) was concealed from view in the day-time by a dense mass of trees and shtubbfcry, except on one side where the lawn sloped down to the bank of the creek. Here were tlaually moored two or three little skiffs, which might easily be forced up the rapids quite ibto the mountain gorge., and which were often seen bearing Annie and her brother down the current, returning from some expedition on the hills.

Had you passed along the road which crossed the mouth of the ravine below the cottage, you would not have suspected that a house was in the thicket above you unless it had been in the evening, and you saw the gleam of the light, and paused, as I often paused, to let your horse drink at the edge of the broad creek and then, perhaps, you might have heard a song floating out of the dark wood and if you rode on until midnight, it would linger in your ears, and you would fancy you heard a spirit.

That man must have had a hard heart that did not love Annie Grey. She was the impersonation of loveliness. I never could describe a face or form I do not remember friends by their features, and I have not the remotest idea of the color of their eyes or hair, in nine cases out of ten. But I do remember her with distinct memory. She was tall that is, rather above the medium height and slender, but gracefully and beautifully shaped. Every motion was natural and unaffected, and her footstep was as light as her heart—and that had not a heaviness. Sweet Annie Grey! The music of her laughter rings from out the lonesome years like the melodious carol of a bird in the arches of a ruined temple! Her eye was dark, quick as sunshine in its changes, and full of unspoken poetry. You might read all manner of beautiful fancies and holy thoughts there. But I linger too long on this deser'iption of her. Her brother was a fine fellow, a year or two older than she, and one of the merriest boys in all the country. Ho lovod his sister, too, as I have before remarked love has a reflecting force which marks the lovely.

I ain completely lost in a whirlwind of memories, now that I return to ihose days and scenes. There were a thousand incidents of my early life that are brought vividly before 111C the moment I recall the old cottage hi the glen and its beloved inmates. How startling docs the trite remark, that we live in a changing world, recur to our thoughts every day. In fact, it cannot become trite.

The very stars that we worship as changeless sometimes fall, and the eyes that we worship with more of devotion than the stars grow dim, and the hearts that we fancy are immutable change mournfully!— There is nothing immutable but God.- It is the attribute of Deity which includes all others, and to which mortals do homage because they cannot comprehend it.

A score of years has removed the cottage from the earth, and its inhabitants have separated here-—have met again up yonder! One by one, their lips murmuring hymns and prayers, and their white hands folded together, the friends of my younger clays have passed away, and but few remain of all that company.

Annie Grey thus died: One glorious summer evening, when the moon was in its full, she and Ned had been strolling up the mountain-side, and coining down together, had nearly reached their boat as twilight gathered round them. Loth to return from the forest, she bado Ned push the little skiff almost under the fall, and stand-* ing on a rock in the very middle of the water, she shook her tiny fist at the cataract, and held a mock conversation with it.

Be turning from a day's shooting on the mountains, I saw her on the pedestal before I was seen, and throwing myself down on the ground, watched her with admiring eyes. Undine herself was not more beautiful. She talked to the water as to an old familiar friend and in truth, if there be spirits and ouphes, they must have loved her. Her voice was clearer than that of the stream, and when she laughed, as she at length did, at some odd reply she imagined the fall to make, the old arches of the forest and the ravines gave back a musical echo, so that I started to my feet and listened to it as to the voice of fairies indeed.

But a cry of half terror of half laughter startled me, and springing down the bank, I saw her a single instant as she disappeared in the water. Her footing had proved insecure, and she slipped from the rock into the embrace of the stream she loved.

It was the work of an instant to spring out to her, and swim bat a few Btrokes to the shore, and she was not a particle frightened by the occurence. On the contrary, the woode rang with her uncontrollable

laughter as soon as she was on tho shore I walked in that same foferfC two years ago, and heard again the music of that ring ing laughter through the long halls of time, made scarcely more melodious by its pas sage through th'6 cbrfidors t)f years.

Placing her in the boat, and taking the oars from Ned, I soon delivered them safely at the cottage, and bade them good night. The next day Annie had a raging fever, and was delirious for ten days I saw her several times, bnt she did not recognize me, albeit I was a near relative, and had known her from her birth. There was one voice that she recognized, and one face that she looked up to with longing love. It was the face of Phil. who had won her pure young hearti But I will not intrude on the sacred memory of that love which is the property of but few now living. Phil, is dead too. On the tenth day of sickness she slept heavily, and awoke in her right mind. Btit alas! for the dear ones around her, it was but too evident she was near to Heaven. Her eye was clear and full of joy, as if she had been, as I doubt not she had, with the angels.

Old Mr. Thompson, the clergyman who baptized us all, and had buried our fathers, and had loved us faithfully from the days of our first lisping, stood by her bed, and she smiled joyfully as she saw him. "Ah, Mr. Thompson, I used to wonder whether I should die with you all around me, and this is just exactly as I wished it. It seems strange, too, that I am dying. I don't exactly believe it. Phil., am I dying7" &• "God forbid, Anflug!", "Ah, that toneVPjSl! You mean to say God alone can BW^ie, for all hope of man is gone. DoirrHgrieve, though—don't grieve. Wh\, it is not hard to die. I love the dear earth well enough to stay here—and the flowers, and birds, and the brooks, and the old seat down by the bank of the stream but I don't feel so very sorrowful to leave them as I used to think I would. And I do love mother, and Ned, and Mr. Thompson, and—and—and you, Phil." And here her voice, which had been low butlcheerful, suddenly trembled, and she was silent.

At lengthfshc continued, in a renewed tone of cheerfulness: "Phil,jgq/eometimes and sit on the old 6eat ^owu^rhere by the stream, and put your aim along the back of it, and look up and if you don't feci my kisses, it will be because angol's kisses can't be felt for if God will let me, I'll come there and take the seat which I have so often sat in, and lay my head on your shoulder. Mr. Thompson, I'm going to heaven at last in advance of you. I started a long way behind, but I shall be there first, after all."

The good old man, to whom this part of the sentence was addressed, sobbed aloud but at length recovering composure, he knelt at the side of the bed, and his long, white locks fell over the counterpane, as he commcnccd a prayer of earnestness.— stood still at the foot of the bed, and watched the face of our angel girl. As he spoke of Heaven, her eye lighted and as lie begged God to spare her to us yet a little longer, I saw her hand steal along until it reached Phil's head, and her tiny fingets wcr6 atnoiig his thick locks of hair, and the next moment her hand was in his, and he arose,- and,- sitting by her side, gazed into her face with unutterable love and, as the sublime words of hope escaped from the lips of the clergyman, I saw her move as if to say "Kiss me, Phil," and he stooped down to her, and with her arms around his neck, and that last, loving kiss upon her lips, she went forth by the unknown path that all must tread.

Strong in her simple faith, and leaning confidently on her Saviour, she, who was fairest of our children here, has long ago become, I cannot doubt,- one of the fairest of God's children there.

Peace be with her! On her grave violets bloom and I have children, who had wandetcd otcrr the hillB in search of flowers all day long in vain, refuse to pluck those which bloom holily over all that was earthly of Annie Grey. Peace be with her! In that sunny land, whereof I dream in summer Sabbath morning dreams, I trust one day to meet her. There the voice that was low and plaintive as the night wind here, has renewed its tones in its thrilling melody. There the last sound of sorrowful discord is hushed for, as she left us, those sounds died away, faintly, scarce heard, then gone forever! and she did not hear them when she came back, as she did at times, to keep the tryst with Phil. She Heard, then, no sounds but the beating of his heart.

One summer morning, ten years afterwards, she called him suddenly, and his spirit sprang forth at the call. The bonds of earth were broken. None knew whereof he died.

|ffi-A sailor being asked how he liked his bride, replied: "Why, d'ye see, I took her to be only half of me, as the parson says, but dash me if she isn't twice as much as I. I am only a Tar, and she's a Tartar."

J^TOur reputation, virtue and happiness generally depend on the ohoice of our companions.

ENGLISH WEALTH AND LUXURY. There is no class of persons on the globe who live in such magnificence and luxury as the English aristocracy. In no country Can be seen such splendid collections of works of art or such beautiful surroundings to the dwellings of the wealthy.— Much of this is doubtless owing to the faet that it is many centuries since England was invaded by a hostile army, to devastate her fair fields or to carry off as trophies theproductions of her men of genius. England has been almost constantly at war, but of the more terrible realities of war her people know but little. Her sons, it is true, go out to fight he? battles, and some never return, while others come back minus a leg or an arm. But for the families of the dead and the mutilated a grateful country provides & sustenance. Of the real hbrrors, of war—the bombarding of fortified places—the sacking of cities—the quartering of a rude and hostile soldiery in their midst—the brutal treatment of helpless women—of all these terrible evils of war-devils which Great Britain has so often visited upon other countries—the people of England know nothing at all.

A Writer in the Richmond Dispatch states that about sixty miles from London is the estate of the Earl of Spencer which comprises 10J00Q acres, divided into parks, meadows, pastures, woods and gardens.— His library consists of 50,000 volumes, and is said to be the finest private library in the world. The Dunke of Richmond's home farm consists of 23,000 acres, or over thirty-five square milen, and this in crowded England, which has in all an area of only 60,000 square miles, or just 32,000,000 of acres, giving, were the land divided, but two acres to each inhabitant.— The residence of the Duke is fitted up with oriental magnificence. Twenty-J5ve horses stand in his stables, each under the care of a special groom. The dishes and plate upon the table are all of porcelain, silver, and gold. His aviary is supplied with almost every variety of rare and elegant birds, and large herds of cattle, sheep, and deer are spread over the immense lawns.

The same authority from which ye gather these facts says that the Duke of Devonshire's palace as Chatsworth excels in magnificence any other of the kingdom.— He spends the whole of his cnormons in" come. In the grounds about the house are kept 4,000 head of cattle and 1400 deer.

The kitchen garden contains 12 acres, and is filled with almost every species of fruit and vegetable. A vast arboretum, connected with this establishment is designed to contain a sample of every tree that grows. There is also a glass conservatory, 387 feet in length, 112 feet in breadth, 67 in hight, covered by 67,000 square feet of glass, and warmed by several miles of pipe conveying hot water.— One plant was obtained from India, by a special messenger, and is valued at $10,000. One of the fountains near the house plays 267 feet high, said to b^e the highest jet in the world. Chatsworth contains 3,600 acres, but the Duke owns 96,000 acres in the county of Derbyshire. Within, the entire is one vast scene of paintings, sculpture, mosaic work, carved wainscoting, and all the elegancies and luxuries within the reach of almost boundless wealth and highrefined taste. Five-sixth of the soil in England is divided among scarcely thirtythousand proprietors. There are twentynine bankers in London, whose transactions yearly embrace six or seven hundred millions sterling. This is one side of the picture. The struggles between capital and labor are fearfuU-^the rich always becoming richer and the poor poorer.

NEGRO' EQUALITY.—The Michigan? City

Enterprise, is becoming disgusted with its conlf^eres, and whikrme dicators, Greely, Seward & Co., and on the subject of of negro equality fairly kicks out Of the traces. Read what it says "The people of Indiana are not prepared to accept the negro as an equal—either at the ballot box or elsewhere. And we know of none of our Western States where this negro-equality principle can command the support of even a corporal's guard.— There was a time when our own sympathies favored the granting of eertain privileges to the black—-"but a more extended acquaintance with their habits and morals, has satisfied us of the incorrectness of our former opinion and it is a belief on which we have been reluctantly driven, that the centralization of any considerable body of blacks in any community is a curse and a blight upon the industrial, metal and religous welfare of the whites.

The principle of welcoming blacks to Canada has been fully and fairly tested and now after the lapse of many years, our Canadian friends—-through the press—her statesmen and private citizens, almost unanimously concur in the expression, that while the condition of the negro in many instances has been benefitted, theii* presence has detoriated the morals of the whites—has engendered laziness,—induced pauperism, theft and intemperance to a frightful extent, and that, while not wishing to drive them back into slavery—they (the people of Canada) decidedly favor some plan whereby they can ail be placed in a colony by themselves.

For our own part, much a3 our sympathy may be excited for their unfortunate condition, we cannot think of ministering to the inferiority, the stupidity and laziness of this class of creation at the sacrifice of our manhood, or the interests of 25,000,000 of white?—-neither will we follow the lead of the Greely and Seward politicians in giving popularity to this absurd doctrine, which tbey are so sedulously trying to engraft into the republican platform.

CAST IRON KNUCKLES.—The rowdies of Philadelphia obtain "all the modern improvements" in their art quite as early as their brethren in other cities. The North Ameriean mentions the capture of James Gorman, who was armed with a bludgeon made of iron or brass, fitting accurately to the clenched fist. This formidable instru­

ment is lined and padded on the 6ide next the hand, and is so managed that a single well directed blow would crush in the thickest skull. These weigh about four pounds each. They are murderous looking affairs, and tell of assassination in their very aspect.

CRAWFORDSVILLE, MONTGOMERY COUNTY, INDIANA, AUGUST 1-5, 1857. WHOLE NUMBER 784.

A BABY AND A BASKET-A SMALL CATASTROPHE. The Philadelphia Penrtsylvanian has the following good story among its police reports:

As Mrs. Esther Stansbury, residing in a court running from Race, below Sixth St., was about to bring a bttcket of water from the hydl'ant, last night, she found a basket suspended from the knob of the front door. Tutting her hand into the basket, she felt Something alive and kicking, so wrapped up in rags that no further discovery could be made without unwrapping the object.-" Apiece of paper, folded like a letter, lay by the side of the animated bundle. Mr Stansbury immediately returned into the house, and by the light of a lamp examined the billet. It was directed to her bus band. She tremulously broke the seal and read as follows: "To JOE STANSBURY—Sir: I send you the baby, which you will please take good care of, and bring up right, so that it may turn out to be a better man than its daddy. Oh, Joseph! what a sly old rake you are Who would think that such a sober old spindleshanks could be such a tearing down •sinner? The child is yours—you may swear to that. Look at it—it's Joe Stansbury all over. You deceived me shamefully, Joe—letting on to be a widower But do a father's duty by the young one, and I'll forgive you. Your heart-broken "NANCY. "P. S.—Don't let that sharp-nosed wife of yours sec this letter. Gammon her with some kind of a story about the baby.

N."

Mr. Stansbury was in the basement kitchen, quietly eating his supper, and little imagining what a storm was brewing over his head. The door of the kitchen was violently thrown open, and his wife's voice yelled out: "Stansbury, come up here, you villain! Here's a mess for you

The astonished Stansbury hastily obeyed the summons. "Don't you want to see Nancy, the heart broken Nancy?" cried Mrs. Stansbury, when her guilty husband hobbled into the room. "Nancy! what Nancy's that?" said the sly old rogue, in well feigned astonishment. "Why, Nancy, the mother of this baby that's hung up at the door, Mr. Stansbury' Oh, you look mighty innocent just read that letter, and look into that-basket!— Don't be afraid, it won't bite its got no teeth, poor thing! You'll know it for, as the hussy says, it's just like you all over, Please goodness, I'll expose you before everybody."

In less than five minutes Mrs. S. had collected a room full of spectators—half of the inhabitants of the court—to witness the process of unwrapping the baby. Anxious expectation sat ou every countenance, as the jealous lady tore away rag after rag from the body of the foundling, the vigorous movement of which astonished everybody. "It's full of the devil already," said Mrs. Stansbury. "That shows it's his.— You'll soon see that it is like him in everything."

At last rill the swaddling clothes being removed, out jumped the baby and made its escape through the open window.- It was a big torn cat.

[From the New Yark Eveninu l'ost. -1th 11st.] 'RILE BURDELL JJIUKDKK.

The Fifth Act in the Tragedy—Mrs. Cunningham attempting to palm off a child —She is arrested.

The general report that Mrs. Cunningham, whom everybody has supposed to have been pregnant for months, was safely delivered of a child this morning, who would claim as heir to the Burdell estate, creating a good deal of excitement throughout the city, which was increased by the announcement that Mrs. Cunningham was under arrest, for what cause was unknown.

The following statement of the facts in the case, which were procured at the District Attorney's oflice this morning, and elsewhere^ by our reporters, will shed some light upon the mystery,- and disclose the history of a crime always without parallel in this city.

Dr, Uhl has been in attendance with Dr. Catlin, of Brooklyn, upon Mrs. Cunningham. Dr. Uhl had been led to believe that Mrs. C. was soon to bear a child She had presented all the external appearance of one about to be a mother. But Dr. Uhl remarked about a month ago that as yet there was no positive evidence of pregnancy, and told her that under the circumstances he thought it hi3 duty to make a medical examination. Mrs. Cunningham ppeared very reluctant, and put the matter off from time to time. Finally she told him that she was not pregnant at all that she had been playing a game, and he (Dr. Uhl) must help her out with it.

Dr. Uhl, previously to this time, had had confidence in the lady, but this bold proposition took him completely aback. He immediately consulted counsel, and upon legal advice stated the whole matter to District Attorney Hall. Mr. Hall told him it was his duty to carry out the matter in order to develop a great crime and supply the proof for the criminal's conviction.—' Dr. Uhl finally consented. lie told Mrs. Cunningham that he was acquainted with a California widow, who was, he feared, about to be confined, and it would be necessary to dispose of the child altogether, as the lady was gcing to join her husband in California.

Mrs. Cunningham was delighted. It was arranged that neither party was to know anything ol the other. The "widow" was to be confined at a house in Elm-street and the infant to be taken thence to No. 31. Bond-streets

Mr. Hall then imparted the matter to Dr. De la Montagnie, and engaged him to assist in the counterplot, whenever the critical time should arrive. Yesterday morning Dr. Da la Montagnie went to Bellevuc Hospital, and, with the consent of Governor Daly, selected a babe of Elizabeth Anderson, a beautiful little blue-eyed girl, born on Saturday last. The mother kissed her baby, and consented to part with it on condition that it should be well taken care of, and returned within twenty-four hours.

Dr. Uhl visited Mrs. Cunningham by appointment at half-past three o'clock in the

Shortly after Captain Speight saw Mrs. Cunningham leave her house followed her into a Fourth*avenuc car, where she was recognized by the conductor and some passengers, who spoke to Captain Speight about her. She was disguised in a quasi nun's dress. The Captain followed her into Elm-street, until she disappeared into the lager-beer saloon.

He then returned to his post. In a few moments Dr. Uhl came out and asked the officers opposite whether they had seen the woman leave the house. She had passed out so quietly that they had failed to perceive her.

The officers next repaired to No. 31 Bond-street, where they learned that Mrs. Cunningham had gone out, but had not returned, and that a man with a white hat had gone in. [This was Dr. Cutler, of Brooklyn, who was assisting Mrs. C. in good faith.]

Dr. Montagnie at once went to the corner of the Bowery and Bond-street, where he met Mrs. Cunningham, in the nun's dress, with a large basket in her hands, in which he had placed the baby. She went into her house.

It had been arranged between her and Dr. Uhl that she should send in urgent haste to his house. Accordingly he had appeared and went.

He soon came out and walked down the street. The officers then went Up, by the District Attorney's directions, rung the

afternoon, and told her he was prepared to REMINISCENCES OFTKIALSIN INDIcarry out the thing at once that the Cali-1 ANA. fornia widow was about to be confined at In the year 1824 I was appointed by No. 190 Elm-street, and she must be pre- Governor Hendricks, Circuit Prosecutor pared to receive the little stranger with for the Third Judicial Court, and for tho proper ceremonies. Then she said she succeeding_ two years I rode with Judgo w^uld be confined that night, if ho would Eggloston into every county and attended produce the child by nine o'clock.- lie was the courts twice a year. Our Southern

to come over and let her know at a quarter before nine o'clock, and she would send a woman to bring the child in a basket.

No time was to be lost. Mr. Hall hired a room of a respectable lager-beer seller at I No. 190 Elm-street, and immediately sent down suitable furniture from his own house including the basket for the baby. Dr. Uhl took possession of the premises, and had hardly got possession when Mrs. C. was seen passing the house and eyeing it closely.'

Policemen were now judiciously posted, and everything was arranged. The greatest difficulty was to procure an "afterbirth.". Dr. Montagnie immediately posted to Bellcvue Hospital, and succeeded in getting what he wanted, as well as the assistance of an intelligent Irish girl, named Mary Ragan, who was to act as nurse to the fictitious widow. A physician was also engaged to lie in bed with a night-cap on, and do the groaning for the 'widow.' This party arrived at 190 Elm-street just in season.

Officer Wm. B. Walsh, of the Court of Sessions, was posted in the street opposite and Inspectors Speight and Dilkes in Bond-street. The physician who was to perSonate the "widow," assisted Dr. Montagnie in certain operations necessary to give the child the appearance of a newborn babe, and then went to bed. Some private marks were also made on the child's head, with nitrate of silver. A messenger was sent to 31 Bond'Strect.

bell and entered. They were met by two principle witness against him on the trial. women at the door, who informed them that Mrs. Cunningham w«i3 very* .fiek and could not be seen. They found her in bed, with the baby by her side—one of the "nurses" giving her warm drink from a dish over a lamp from time to time.

GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF JEUL'SAIJE.1I. The Jerusalem correspondent of the Boston Post graphically describes the ruin and desolate condition of the Holy City.— He says:

The women, clothed from head to foot in white sheets, with their faces concealed selves by a black vail, resemble so many ghoulcs 'jury wjrc not in vain, just risen from their subteranean abodes slaughter, two years

the Saracean, the Crusader, the Turk. -In fine, Jerusalem is naught but a "heap" of mouldering bones and shattered bouses.

ONLY INDISCRETION. The Ker. Mr. Simpson, who was caught in a stats-rojin with Miss Henderson, on board a Mi sissippi steamboat, has been acquited of criminality by a Presbytery, but censured for indiscretion! The lady says that she asked him to share her berth, to avoid the annoying attention of the second clcrk.— Haw! Haw!

Court at that time was held at Vcvay, and our Northern at Fort Wayne. The Judgo was rather delicate, but I had an iron constitution. There were no bridges over the streams, but we rode good swimming horses and never faltered on account of high water, but plunged in and always found the opposite shore somehow. During the two years that I served as a prosccntor, there was not a single court hold or a Grand Jury impanneled in my absence on our oir-^ cuit. On one circuit I heard nine men sentenced to the penitentiary and four to be hung that I prosecuted. In the continuation of these reminiscences I propose to sketch some of these cases. Before doing which, however, let. inc present the.great and exciting trial of Alexander Young for killing John Points, in tho liush County Court. The case was prosecuted by James Whitcomb and myself, for the State, and defended by Charles If. Test, James Rari-\ den, and Amos Lane for the prisoner.—. The facts of the case were these: Young, was a Justice of the Peace of Rush county, who had a beautiful and beloved daughter, about seventeen years of age. Points was a fine looking young farmer, the son of of a respectable man in the neighborhood, but somewhat wild and reckless. He had for some time been attached to thcSquire"' daughter, and had asked tho consent of her' father to their marriage but was rejected and denied the privilege of longer visiting the house. The young couple then arrnnged'for an elopement, to get married at a neighboring village the father got wind of their intentions and determined at all hazards to prevent it. lie loaded his rifle and hung it up at. a convenient place, to bo taken down at a moment's notice of the approach of young Points. The 'Squire was absent one morning from his house, when Points rode up 011 horseback the daughter was ready, stepped to the block and sprang up behind him, and off they bounded, on s. circuitous path round the fields, to the publie road leading to the village where they were to be married, and their earthly joys to commence for life. They loft the house: full of lite, with bright hopes of the future, and ultimate reconciliation of the parents, as they had both been readers of romance, and imagined this was to be a noted adventure, like escaping from a castle by young' lovers. But, alas! for their dreams, the Squire returned a few moments after they liad left, and seizing his rifle ran across tho fields to the road, and took his position near the roadside, behind some trees, where the young couple had to pass. They so'm approached at a rapid pace, wholly unconscious of tho impending harm As they, were directly opposite tho trees where the Squire was co.nccaled, he raised his rifle the crack was. heard at the house by tho mother. The hall grazed the head of the daughter, and young Points fell from binseat a corpse, leaving the intended bride in her scat on thchor.se.- iShe returned to thehou.se with her father, and was the

I'll0 ease created great excitemcnt thro'out the whole country. Tho coroner's inquest charged Young with (he murder of Points. The Squire was arrested and confined in the j'til of Hush county. The grand juay found a bill of indictment for

Dr. Montagnie asked if that was Dr. Bur- murder in the first degree. The clergy dell's baby. Mrs. Cunningham replied, I visited him in his cell repeatedly, llerx"Certainly whose else could it be?" The pressed the most poignant regret and tho officers at length told her that she must be deepest sorrow, so as to make a profound arrested—that the game was played out. and lasting impression upon all who vi.'-it-

She was apparently under the influence ed him—among the rest., upon my vcncraof opium, in order to create artificial paleness. One of the nurses was taken to the Station-house and the other remained at No. 31 Bond-street with Mrs. Cunningham in charge of the officers.

At one o'clock a messenger came from Mrs. Cunningham, asking of Captain Dilkes that a nurse be furnished, as she was in a very feeble condition. The reply was that her drughters were with her and could attend to her wants.

Mrs. Cunningham is to be examined by Mrs.- Dr. Blackwcll this afternoon.

ble friend, the Reverend James Ifavi who took a deep interest in the trial. The court-house was crowded, and surrounded at every window, during the trial, with the most anxious countenances I ever saw 011 any occasion and while the daughter testified, the crowd almost seemed to cease breathing, such was the silence that surrounded us. The daughter related the whole facts and circumstances of the case briefly and calmly, but evidently with grc-at feeling, and, so far as we could judge, without any disposition to withhold anything

Governor Daly has decided to name the material because her father was on trial.— baby who performed so important a part in the affair, "Justitia Anderson."

However, the tragedy proved too much for her strength. Hie gradually s'ink into a state of partial alienation of mind, from which she was never relieved by all the' treatment of the most eminent physiciau.'i, and she is now alive—a confirmed maniac.

The case was argued with all the ability the eminent counsel on both sides could bring to bear upon it. Mr Whitf-ornb for the State, and Mr, Charles if. Test for tho prisoner, especially distinguished them-

more especially as they have a great fancy land a pardon from the Gmcr/ior, were the for cemetries, where they daily congregate final result, but learned that Alexander to howl. No sound of youth—there are no Young never smiled afterward.—lion. O. boys in the streets—no sound of wheels-— //. Smith. there arc 110 carriages—-the dogs, mangy I —.B~ and wolfish, snarl and snap when you dis-j |:!VING

The appeal to the sympathy of tlio A verdict of mauthe .State Prison,

IT

turb them in their daily work as scavengers, ,, 1 1 1 an opposition paper, thus LMV .'S ui» Ivc:iand make the livelojig night hideous with

T.'i'.—The Evansville Journal,

11 11

their contentions—the very birds do not tucty to the Democrat.-,. It'-ay-. sing, but cry to each other with a dissonant 'I he Kentucky election has go.-.e "all chirp, or complain with a harsh murmur.— hollow" for the Democrats, wc presume. From the horrors of the city, if we pass to from the scattering returns that have been the environs, we find naught but bare rocks reported to us. ihc leaves reported last around stones and dust beneath—the night that the strong old Whig counties of bright sun, reflected from every object, Davies and Breckinridge had given Demburns into the brain—no grass, no trees, I oc-ratic majorities. Peyton is elected by no green thing—'the promenades are camc-ja large majority over Johnson to Congress. teries the seats are whited sepulchcrs.— The Democratic ticket for the Legislature Here have been buried whole generations in Davies and Hancock was elected. Y»

tai!s of so complete and overwhelming dofeat of the opposition party.

REMARKABLE CASK—A little boy, a son of Mr. Gary in Bradford, Mainj, recently came to his death from a puncture of hia skiu. This is the third child lost by Mr. C'ary from the same ea lse. The blood of the-je children lacked certain plastic conatituent?, and, if we understand aright, is not cjnfitied to the veins, so that the least puncture of the skin causes the blood to flow till death ensues.