Crawfordsville Review, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 24 April 1858 — Page 1

11

't -a

NEW -VOL. IX, NO. 40.

ttlSTOft OF LIFE. rr 5 »T UUT OOWIWAIX.

Dty.daintd.. WtthSn a eariuiwdfoom Filled to falotnoM with perfume, A l«dy lay at point cf docm I ii: t-ri-

D*y closed, A child h«d aeenthe light *, But for the l*dy fair and bright, .. 8h# rested In ondresming night.

t,

1

Spring cam?. The lady's grave was green',' And near it oftentimes was seen A getotle boy, with thoughtful mien.

1 1

Years fled. He wore a manly face ,• And struggled In tlio world's rough race, ,r^ ...... A^d won, at last ft lofty plucc.,

}.ij fj*

.....

And then ho died. Behold before yc, an it an to

1

Lifo, Death, and all there is of—Glory*.

CASTLE'cKAIO

OB

the witch of the south pass.

jo v.: BT n. HAMXtTON. fi «JUi* ... erfJ"Castle Craig!" «-r -i A"deep ravine in the south mountain— one of the branches of the Blue Ridge— made, as it were, by the ancient course of .some of the valley streams.., rUpon one side the mountain' looms up in a regular amphitheatre, while on the other the range as broken and craggy, with, for some distance, scarce a bush to cover its rugged brow. One of the roeks, protruding over the rest, seemed supported by the others, like castlo walls, furnishing a kind of house, or shelter. From the depths' of the ravine it looks a« if the entrance to it was large as a hall door, while above, and around the gray., irregular rocks, seem like the keeps and turrets of a castle. From this it derived its name.

Man^r years have, passed, since my old grandmother, who has lived to the age of ninety years, first told me the legend I am About to narrate and many years—thirty, at least—had passed since the days ofits reputed occurrence. I had often been to sec the spot, and gazed admiringly at its Atfild beauty, until I became awed-by its rugged grandeur. Yet a spell of fear always crept over me, and causcd me to leave it in solemn silcnce. So, it appears, had been its cffcct upon the denizens of the valley and mountain thirty years before. But then for a different cause.

The laborer, as the evening shadows scttied over the ravine, and he strolled home wearied from his toil, looked up at the gray ^ocks, and quickening his pace, would mutter, with a shudder of fear, ,. "Castle Craig!"

The mountaineer, whose music through the long day was the ring of his axe, in .chorus with his bold song, looked out from his cabin windows, at night, upon the cold rocks oft the opposite side, and murmuring

1

its name, would go back silently to his 1|grcat log fire, and gazing into its embers, with elbows on knees, would muse upon the strange place and its mysteries. Some two hundred yards above tile ominous spot, as wo pass Up the ravino, ft small path is discovered, making an ascent of the acclivity. It is partially covered over with leaves, but ere the darkness fully sots in, we may be able to trace it. Let us follow it. Ascending some fifty yards it suddenly diverges to the south, and a few diot ments' walk—•hindered b}' our frequent stumbles and falls over the rough rocks— -nnd we stand at the entrance of Castle

Craig. But that entrance, instead of being large, gradually converges to an opening of less than two feet. Entering the aperture and progressing a few paces, we stftft back at the first secret of its dread.

There is a rough and irregular apartjnont, or rather cavern, with an arching roof and jagged floor, of an nvcrngo space of twelve feet The shadows are growing dark without, but there is plenty of light in that room. A great wood fire is burning in the rear, the smoke from which seems to cscapo through a crevice in the rock above the blaze crackles and ilarcs, making firespirits to dance and glide about the floor and walls, in a wild revel of phantasy. Are they tlio mysterious dwellers of this cavern-home, and is this their vigil fire! No there is another inmate.

Seated upon a rough, clap-board bench, with her elbows on her knees and her gaze fixed upon the flickering fire, was a woman dressed in antiquated, uncouth garb, made up promiscuously of skins, cloth, and the lighter qualities of femalo raiment. Her arms were bare, w»d the looseness of the garb about the bust revealed a long, scraggy throat, made up, seemingly, of tendons and veins. Her face, framed in amass of. long, tangled hair, was hideous for its wild, haggard looks and prominent cheek-bones the glare of her gray eyes was fiendish the curl of her shriveled lips heartless and dangerous. Her arms and hands were wasted and fieshless, and her form seemed but a human shadow. "I Wonder why Mack don't come," she muttered. "He ought o'been ycr afore is 4

For a few moments she remained silent, but fiendish fire kindled in her eyes, while she seemed to think, and then she broke out in a wild laugh. ha, ha! what a bold game I'm playing!: ..How long it takes mo to oomplete it! Five years I've been in this old cavern five years I've dogged the footsteps of the Sqpire, but I'llbe revenged at last! Yes

Slack's plan's 8 good one. Like for like —blood for blood—-honor for honor! They think I'm crazy—"-call me the 'Witch of the South Pass,' and hasten by with quick steps, whenever they look up at Castle Craig. Ha, ha, ha! they don't know Moll Davis. They don't know that she's got a history—a history? Ah!"

A deep sigh broke from her withered lips, and a moment after she dashed away a tear from her eyes. This old withered .hag still had a heart! ,y\ ,,1 1 "What's the use to think about that?" she muttered, suddenly closing up the fountains of sorrow. "I've nothiu' left now but to blot out the stain." "Mother Davis, Mother Davis!" drawled a bold, rough voice without the cave, and interrupting her rcvcry. "Show a light, Mother Davis. It's so dark one can't sec „mi it" notlnn.

The old hag quickly seized a pine torch at her feet, a.:d thrusting it into the fire, it kindled into a blaze, and she hastened to the entrance. She returned in a second, followed by a tall, gaunt man, of unusual proportions, and apparently of thirty years of age, but his long, bushy hair and scraggy beard evidently added much to his real period of life. He was doubtless not more than twenty-five, but his brawny form and features presented a most stalwart aspect. "Why didn't you hang out your witchlight, this cvenin'?" lie said, in a drawling, good-natured tone, as he threw himself heavily upon a bench, and stretched out his enormous legs toward the fire. "I've got purty fair trotters, but hang me if I didn't think I'd break my neck over the path!" "We must be careful how we use the witchlight, Mack, when we're about such business as the present, it'd draw too much suspicion. But why didn't you come earlier?" "Nothin' like porcaution, Mother Davis, as you say, and for that reason I waited until the mountain folks had gone home, so as how they wouldn't sec me come here. You see they don't know—only half suspect—the very honorable relations what exist between us," said Mack, with a peculiar twinkle of his gray eyes. "And do you think they even suspect that you be my son?" asked the old hag, fiercely. "Wal, I dunno they only know nie as 'Lazy Mack,' who never worked a clay in his life:- but they've seen me about these priinises so much, that I rather guess they have some such idee as that." "That would be fatal to our plans but you must be mistaken," said the hag, quickly. "We must, however, go to work at oilcc. Have you seen Squire Hawthorne to-day?" "Yes, and the pretty Helen, too, I raytlier guess," .said Mack, drawlingly. "And have you thought of any plan by which to abduct her?" is "Wal, yes.

I calkilatc it would be easy

enough to get her ycr in the cave but do you think we coi^ld keep her here said Mack. "Oh, yes!" cried the hag, with a satisfactory chuckle "for j\»u could not get one in all this settlement to come near it. Do they not stand in dread of me? Have not poisoned their cattle, and burned their timber? Aint every one of 'ein afraid each night to go to sleep, for fear the 'Witch of the South-Pass' '11 come with fire and torch to burn their houses over their heads!— Bah! But git Helen Hawthorne in this cave, and I'll go bail she'll never git oitt alive!" "Wal, I duiino but what you're right, Mother Davis," said Mack, good-humored-ly. "They have a sort o' unnatural fear of you and, in p'int of fact, I believe they'd as soon meet the old gentleman with horns, who keeps hot fires down below, for his own amusement." •"But how do you expect to git the girl "Wal, I'll tell you. You see the gal has a lawyer, a sort o' dandy •schooljmas' ter, who teaches letters, and rcadin's, and figgers, and sich like, in the old cabin above. But he's poor as a mountain rat, and the old squire'd never consent to her marryin' him any more than lie Would give her to me. So almost every eveniu' she steals from the house, and meets the young school-master, and they take a walk down the ravine, sometimes almost so far as Castle Craig. Do you sec anything, Mother Davis?" "I rather guess your design you will knock down, or murder the school-master, and carry off the girl," said Moll, with a satisfactory chuckle. "Your seein' qualities is extraordinary good to-night, Mother Davis,"' said Mack, smiling. ... .• 7 "I won't murder the school master. If he was found dead near this place, suspicion would fall at once on you or I and though the folks here about wouldn't come to your cave, they might give me a sly shot when I'm put in the mountains that'd 6ettle my breathin' existence for this world, and I'd not livo to have, the gal." '!.1 "You are right," said the hag, thoughtfally "but when do yon expect to do this!" "Just as soon as I can it may be a week it may be to-night, yet." And Mack rose as if to go. ..

"The sooner the better," said the hag. "But, Mother Davis, hang out your witch-light the path's so dark, thai I'd never be able to get over it with the gal in my arms," said Mack. "I thought you bad traveled it long enough to know it," said Moll, with a slight sneer. "I could find it if I was blind.— Howsumcvcr, I must oblige you, I reckon." "Thank you for your condescension," said Mack, as he left the cave with a low laugh. ,*

The woman went to one corner of the room, and took from one of the niches of the rock, a queerly constructed torch-light. It appeared to be three prongs of pities, twisted like a snake: and diverging in three different directions, about ten inches apart. Lighting each of the ends, she passed through the apevturc, and stuck her magic torch in a crevice of the rock, whence it flung three weird-like streams of light down the barren slope. Moll then returned to licr former seat, and again fixing her gazo on the fire, fell into a reverie.

But let us change the scene. About a mile to the north of Castle Craig, the ravine broadens into a rich arid fertile valley, where the ranges of the mountain arc broken off. The timber here ceases, save here and there a small strip of wood and at the time of which I write, the landscape presented the appearance of a well-cultivated farm. At the right hand side of the ravine, imbedded in the forest trees, stood a large mansion, built of blue stone, quarried from the side of the mountain. It was an old-time structure, with turrets and deep casements, and massive walls, telling of an earlier age, when some one of the cavaliers had crossed the Potomac from Virginia and settled there, far away from human habitation. ,rV

This mansion was the residence of Marcus Hawthorne, called Squire by the mountain peasantry, who held him in high esteem. Let us enter. In a neatly-furnish-ed apartment, adorned with the old-style massive furniture, sat a young girl of apparently eighteen years.* She was very beautiful, with her mild blue eyes, and smooth flaxen hair, which plainly bound her fair brow, and her simple plaid dress gave her a rustic air, which was perfectly charming. Ilcr gaze seemed to be fixed upon an aged man, with grey hair, and large, but subdued features, who paced up and down the raven with a measured tread, apparently wrapt in thought-. Sometimes her gaze would wander from the old man to an old-fashioned portrait which hung, in a large frame, against the wall. "Father!" she said presently, "I have often thought, in looking at mother's portrait, that she could not have been a very handsome woman." "And why?" asked the old man, turning suddenly toward her, and then glancing up

at the picture. "I scarcely know, but there is something rough in the face, that seems to chill me," said the girl. "It-is a bad portrait," replied the old man, sharply, as he continued to pace the room.

The girl noticed that his step was quick-

or, and his brow more grim and dark. It ,, i„

n_

grew quicker still, the brow darker still, until he became quite agitated. Then seemed to calm himself by a powerful effort, and came and set down beside her. "Helen!" lie said, looking her earnestly in the eyes. "There is a family secret, which I have often thought of telling you, but still deferred it. You are now of that age when you should know every mystery of your family, that yoitr actions mighty be governed by tlicm.

He paused. •*'..• "What is the secret, father she asked, without manifesting the least excitcmcnt or alarm, although his recent emotion had aroused her curiosity. "No, no, not to-night I cannot tell you to-night. To-morrow you shall know all."

At that moment, a bold, manly voice was heard singing in the ravine without, and a blush mounted to the cheeks and brow of the young girl. "As you will, father," she said in an affectionate tone. "Leave me for a wliilc, Helen, I would be alone," said the old man. "Kiss me first, father."

She knelt down before him, and lie took her fair face between his two bands, and kissed her lips, check and brow. "God bless you, my child!" he murmured, with some emotion.

She rose from her knees and glided softly from the room. Up the long stairway and through the corridor to her own apartment, she bounded like a fawn. A cloak and bonnet were quickly donned, and retracing her steps, she glided from the large portico of the stone house, and hurried away.

Whither goes this frail, tender girl out into the deep ravine, where danger often lurks, and the strong man, moved by the superstition of the age, is often made to tremble, and tell wild tales of the strange sights, he has seen Ah! Helen Hawthorne heard the maaly voice who sang here a moment before it tonched a chord —the strongest in her heart—the chord of love, and made it vibrate. It drowned her cariosity for her father's secret, and it was

CRA W FORDSVILLE,, MONTGOMERY COUNTY, INDIANA, APRIL 24, 1858.

with delight that she received bis summons to leave him." ,, Down the ravine' she'glided, for some fifty yards, until she approached .the. trunk of a fallen arid decayed. oak. It was too dark to distinguish objects at but a few yards, and she spoke in a low tone a name which made her voice quiver— ... "Claude!" "Helen said a manly voice and the form of a man of medium stature rose up from the log, and stepping forward, clasped her in his arms and imprinted a kiss upon her brow. "Oh, Claude!" she murmured, partially disengaging herself from his embrace.— "You were very wron to come io tryst night it is so, dark." ., "But what of that?" he replied, tenderly. "We know the smooth' path of the ravine, which we have trod these many nights and you certainly have no fears when I am with you? You cannot fear me "No, no, Claude, I could not fear you( who are so good and noble," she exclaimed earnestly.

He twined his arm about her waist, and they conimenccd the descent of the ravine. The frequent rains had filled the centre with a smooth floor of sand, so that, despite the darkness, the path was perfectly perceptible. Loving words were whispered in low voices by the lovers, until they came in sight of Castle-Craig. "See!" cried Helen, clinging closer to him, "the witch-light is out to-night!— Some new dovillry is abroad." wr* "Ha, ha!" laughed Claude, '.'does my little brave angel put faith in these idle rumors, and fear the witch of Castlc-Craig?"

Ere she had time to reply, the sound of quick footsteps was heard behind them, and as they turned, a heavy blow sent Claude reeling senseless upon the ground, and a rude arm clasped the waist of Helen. Ilcr wild scream of affright rang on the air, and then all was still, for she became unconscious in the grasp that held he

1

Moll Davis, the Witch of Castle-Craig, still sat by the fire in her cavern home, with elbows on her knees, gazing musingly in the flames. Her thought had taken words again, and she' muttered aloud. "Yes, once Mack places her in my power, lie shall. He thinks to have the girl for a mistress,- but ho little dreams of the revelation to be made. He will rave and swear, but that will do no. good lie must bear his disappointment. We've nil got to do that. I've done it for many long years. When she is once more in my power, Cas-tle-Graig will be without its haunting spirit its witch will be gone. I wonder if she will have the power to make me human again

Her reverie was interrupted by the hasty entrance of Mack, bearing in his arms the fainting form of Helen. "Quick! Mother Davis! I've got the prize, but she's fainted." "Give her to me!" cried Moll, springing forward and seizing herefrom his arms, "Is her lover dead?" "Wal, I dunno I hit him a purty hard lick," replied Mack. "Go and see if lie be dead, ho must be

.:ii concealed somewhere, so as to drown sus

picion. Mack darted through the aperture. "IIow beautiful she. is!" muttered the old hag, as silo held the fair girl in her scraggy, arms, and gazed into her face.— •'Ah, Helen you little know who it is, that holds you to her bosom. But you soon will! Yoil soon will!"

When Mack reached the spot where he had captured the girl, he found the schoolmaster still insensible. His stunning blow had struck the temple, and well nigh extinguished life. Not knowing whether he was dead or alive, Mack thought the best place of secretion was the cave. He picked him up in his stalwart arms, and started up the path. He had not proceeded far, however, before lie discovered that life was not extinct in the burden he bore.— Tho man recovered slowly to a sense of his condition, and that conviction instantly restored all his fnnctions. They, at this moment had reached a portion of path bordering on a ledge of rocks and the young man now commenccd a struggle to free himself from the clinch of his captor. It was a terrible and brief struggle, for Mack, in attempting to hurl his victim over the precipice, was dragged over by him, and they wore both dashed to pieces, at the bottom!

..

The old stone house was set in a wild uproar, on the next morning, when Helen was missing from her room. She had not been seen by any of the household from the moment she left her father. The old man was wild with excitement, and raved like a mad-man. Ms^ensers were sent to all the respectable planters, anu ^ood men in the mountain and valley, but no one had seen her. It was terrible to witness the agony of .Marcus Hawthorne, as he stood upon the portico of the old stone house, and waited for tbe return of each messenger, who had gone in search of his daughter.

Presently his attention was arrested by seeing a party of wood-men bearing the bodies of two men toward the house. He

rushed frantically toward therm, expecting to see the mangled body of his daughter. "Please, Squire," said tbe foremost of the party, "here be two dead bodies we found in the gorge one be the school-mas-ter, good soul, and the other be "Lazy Maek,/who never worked any."

The old man was relieved to find no evidence of his daughter's death, but his agony only increased at the delay. "Where did you find these mangled corpses?" he asked.

The old man was somewhat feeble, and notwithstanding his deep incentive, his strength was nearly wasted ere lie readied the path, and by that time the sturdy mountaineers and his household, had joined him. They toiled up the path, .and at last reached the entrance of the cave. The old man was the first to enter, but he started back with au exclamation of surprise, Which w"as echoed by those who followed.

The cave was empty. Castle-Craig Was in solitude. What be this?" said one of the foresters, picking up a piece of folded paper, and presenting it tcf the squire,

The old man opened it, and discovered a few irregularly written words in red they had evidently been traced With the natural fluid of the "ink-ball," peculiar to that climate, and a stick mast have served for a pen. There were strange words on that paper, however, never known to' any but Marcus Hawthorne, but to him they had a wonderful import. They ran as follows

Marcus Hawtiioiink: Run your mind back twenty years, to your early days, when you roamed by the waters of the blue Juniatti.. in the old State of Pennsylvania. Do you remember one who strolled bv your side then? Do you remember Jane Carlton? You married her, and for two years she devoted her life and love to you, with all the fondues? of a true wife.— :Vt the end of that time, you basely deserted her, taking with yon her child—'her darling Ilelcii! For years she sought you in every part of the countiy, sometimes in the disguise, sometimes in the necessity of a beggar.- At last chance directed her to your rctrertt, and for Gve long years she has watched you and her child with anxiety, until the latter has grown to be a young and handsome girl—-too pure to remain longer in the care of so base a father!— Jane Carlton— your deserted wife—and

midnight, stood over you, with the weapon of death in my hand, but Heaven whispered to me to spare your life for repentance. Some years ago, I took under my charge,

as a traveling companion and assistant ot

"Lazy Mack," who was raised in t.ie belief

a

groan he fell to the floor senseless.

Ckaig?"

4

zi/I

he.

v,

"Right, underneath o' Castle Craig.— There be suthin' very strange this moruin' answered the man. "Ah!" cried the squire, "what is it, beside the double murder?" "Why, the witch-light bo still burnin, and the sun be an hour high." "Ah!" exclaimed the old man, clasping his brow in thought, "can this hag have practiced her damning violence upon my daughter. Follow me! Convey these men into the house gather my household, and follow me." •-..... "Where, Squire?" "To Castle-Craig!" he cried, as lie rushnrr*. ed wildly down the ravine.

refusc a c011

J* i.'.'iiSf I.i:

[Correspondence of- the Now Albany Lulger.]. FROM WASIIIJJTGOS. WAsniSGfbN, April, 14, 1S58.,

Notwithstanding the resolution of the House to adhere to the 3rontgom'ery amendment to the Senate bill for the admission of Kansas, into the: Union, tb? Senate ori yesterday Undescended to ask the House for a Committee of Conference "upon their disagreement. This must bave been a bitter pill for that proud, aristocratic body to have swallowed yet to

save

the life of

their darling bantling down cm their knees they had to get and humble themselves in the very dust. As I wrote you before, for the. Senate asked for a Gonfcrcuce after the House had said in effect that they wished no further intercourse with that body on that bill, would be tantamount to a vote to recede from their vote of nonconcurrence, and an invitation to the House to open the case to give them an opportunity to offer a compromise. Any other construction put upon their action would be an insult to the indcpondcnce of the House. Can it be presumed for a moment that the Senate would invito tho House, after its determination to adhere to a conference, without any intention ou their part to yield anj'thing from their original position, but with the.modest expectation of forcing the House to adopt their measure? This seems to be the idea of some of the rabid Lccomptonitcs. The Washington Union, with its hopeful temperament and its Macawber-like propensity of always patiently hoping that "something may turn up" to its profit, thiuks all that is necessary to sccitrc the passage of the Senate bill is to get a conference between the two Houses on their disagreeing vote, and the tiling will hb immediately accomplished. Pleasant prospect for the anti-Lecompton-ites truly! All their fighting has been vain all their resistance to tlo blandishments and promises of power, their sacrifices of political favor and patronage.—Their resistance to the strong appeals made by old political friends, and the bitter denunciation of rccklcss and unprincipled mercenary demagogues, all have been for nothing. They have prolonged this bitter and unprofitable controversy for four months to the exclusion of almost every other question of public importance, and have stood firm, impregnable, immovable, like a wall of fire against the domands of the Senate, and the arrogant attempts at at intimidation by the disunion fire-eaters of the South, and now they are to surrender almost without a struggle to the first demand made upon them by a Committee of Conference! Whatan absurdity! Why the very thought is an insult to the consistency and integrity of those men who have resisted this great wrong up to this time.

But will the House meet the request of the Senate in a spirit of courtesy and grant them a conference? This depends upon one contingency, and that is that the Speaker will pledge himself to place upon the committee, as managers on the part of the House, such men as the majority of the House may select, They wilJ not be caught by the Speaker a second time as they were in the appointment of the Committee of Fifteen. The wishes of the House must be fairly represented by the majority of the House members. If Col. Orr will agree to do this the House will agree to the conference, and not without. I know that it is the wish of a great many to refuse the conference altogether, and stand firmly upon their present position and throw the

1

whole responsibility of the admission of

Moll Davis, the witch of Castle-Craig, are Kansas into the Union under the Leeosnnonc and the same! I have long contein-, »i0n Constitution or the adjournment of the plated iolence upon jou, as a means of question until after the October elections, getting my child, and once, at the hour of

upon

],e Senate, believing themselves to

be right, and willing to go before the country upon the issue as it now stands between the two Houses. But this view of the question I think will be overruled by the

I11:l

jority

of

my schemes, the son ot_ a, poor woman who unnecessarily harsh towards a coordinate could not provide for him. rhat boy w/isj |jr

the antics as discourteous and

mc 0

our national legislature, and to

fcrciicc

that I was his mother, and in the capture doubt or a want of confidence in the strength of Helen to-night has lost his life, ^ou^f their position or the intcrity of a coinwill find him at the foot of the Craigs—

And now, faiewell. Helen and I go to of members of their own selecting. Jieanother land. Search the wide world

as she finished, and turning to me,. as I own way—that docs not leave them perturn to you reader,-asked Vi lectly free to throw of! the Lecompton con"IIow like you the legend of C/..s"rt.E-1'l^ance'

1 1

Mr. Brown Treats all his Gusto-

The wine was poured out, when Jones said: "Would it be asking too much to request you to put an egg in the wine? I am very fond of wine and egg."

Appalled by the man's meanness, the

storekeeper took the identical egg which Ia11

he had received for the darning needle, and 1

handed it to his customer, who on breaking it discovered that it contained a double yolk.

Look here," said the spouge, "don't you think you ought to give me another darning needle? This, you sec, is a doable' yolk." .'

J&*A fellow walking through a churchyard, stumbled upon the inscription: "I am not dead but sleeping." Disgusted at what he deemed a manifest attempt fb impose upon travelers, he exciaimc/1: "Well, if I was dead, by thondcr I'd own.it!"

wou

mittec thafc U)ight

side

through—you will not find me. jcct

.s

thc rei)fJ1

fd seem to imply

,JC .ippoilflcd

ant^

0

mers—Some years ago, Ben. Brown open- the most emphatic manner. The House ed a store in Swoptown, and in order to!w,Ilact "Pon the message of the -Senate book everybody into trade, he offered to treat everyone that boughtany thing at his store. Money being pretty scarce, there deal of barter going on in those days. So Sam Jones called into the grocery and dry goods store of Mr. Brown, and asked for a darning needle, offering in exchange an egg. After receiving the needle, Jones said: "Come, ain't you going to treat?" "What on that trade?" -sfc "Certainly, a trade's a trade, let it be big or little?" "Well, what will you take?" "A glass of wine," said Jones.

C0In

.t

i,m

,J0Sed

of tJ|0 comm

to

j,c

act

ittf!e°is sub-

0

tIie peo

^jc

]10 n0IISCj and if they

do not like it they can reject it. I feel

For the last time," vp "JaxiJ Ham'thor.vc." morally certain that no committee of the the large hotels, and at night was shown. The old man clapped his hands to his Mouse thus appointed will ever agree to!'1'8 which happened to be quite high, brow as he finished, and uttering a deep *11^" modification of the House amendment the building, and accessible bj along ,,

of

ic that docs not fully recognize the right of I winding staircase. After reaching thc^

]^ausas

My grandmother wiped her spectacles, their own constitution and laws in their

to

,iuj

a

make a constitution

tbc

Illc"ts

own 1S a

WHOLE NUMBER 820.

A ORE AT CLOCK..

Henry C. Wright, in a letter to the Liberator, thus describes thhc" great clock in the cathedral of Strasburg:

The priests and aiilitary have retired, rtnd I am no.w sitting in a. chair facing,tho gigantic clock-—from the bottom to the top not les3 than 100 feet, and about, thirty feet wide and fifteen deep. Around me are. many strangers, waiting to see the working of tlos clock'a'a it strikes the hour oi noon. Every eye is upon,the clock.— It now wants five minufes of twelve. The clock has struck, and the poople are gone, except a few whom the sexton, or Band man with a wand and swOrd is conducting round the building. The clock has struck in tins way the dial is some 20 feet from the floor, on. each side of which is a cherub, or little boy with :i mallet, and over the dial is a small bell. The cherub on the left strikes the first quarter, that on the right the second quarter. Some fifty feet over the diol, in a"large niche, is a huge figure of Time, a bell in his left, a scythe in his right hand. In front stands.a.figure of a young mail with a mallet, who strikes the third quarter ou the bell fn the hand of Time, and then turns and glides, with a slow step, round behind Time comes out an old na'n, with a mallet,.and plaoes himself in front of liini.

As the hour of twelve comes, the old man raises his mallet, and deliberately strikes twelve tiiues on the bell, that echoes thro' the building, and is heard all round tho region of the church. The old man glides slowly behind Father Time, and tho young man comes on readily to perform his part, as the time comes round again., Soon as the old man has struck twelve and disappeared, another set of machinery is. put in motion some twenty feet higher still. It is thus: there is a high cross with the image of Christ on it. The instant twelve has struck, one of the apostles walks out from behind, comes in front, turns, facing the cross, bows and walks on around to his place. As lie docs so, another comes out in front and turns, bows, and passes in.— So twelve apostles, figures as large as life, walk round, bow, aud pass on.' As the last appears, an enormous cock, perched on the pinnacle of the clock, slowly flaps its wings, stretches forth its neck, and crows three times, so loud as to be heard outside the church to some distance, aud so naturally as to be mistaken for a real cock. Then all is silent as death. No wonder this clock is the admiration of Europe. It was made in 1571, and has performed these mechanical wonders ever since, except..... about fifty years, when it stood out of repair. 0' i'i't- *1

8@~The Democrats of Sangamon county, 111., met at Springfield on Wednesday last, to appoint delegates to the State Con-.-/:' vention. licsolutions were adopted endorsing and'approving the course of Senator Douglas aud Major Harris. There was only one dissenting voice—that of a vilagc postmaster somewhere in the county, who afterwards, at his own request, was unanimously permitted to withdraw from the convention. The correspondent of tho St. Louis llepubliean says:

\s you will observe among the list of delegates from Sangamon county, which we furnish above, the name of Peter Cartwright appears. This Peter Cartwright is none other than the celebrated old pioneer preacher, whoso name is familiar all over the country as "household words the same man wlioss autibiography has lately been issued from the press of tho Harpers, and which has been sold all over the country by thousands. Wc saw tho old gentleman this afternoon in the County Convention. He looks hale and hearty, and as if he would live a hundred years longer. He is certainly a very remarkable man iu his way. We believe he is now nearly eighty years old. He will bo greeted by hundreds of old friends when the State Convention meets, for lie is well acquainted all over the State. A good story was fold about the old gentleman during his attendance on the Methodist Conference, which met in one of tho eastern cities a few years since, lie put up at one.

jopt room he hallooed in a loud voice, sufficient

to

to suit,

themselves. Aud if the committee could be wanted with'the hatchet, "bring be induced to make the attempt at anything

House wou!d reject '•heir action

asking for a committee of conference today at 1 o'clock. i. The IloUse was engaged the greater part of the day yesterday in the discussion of the Washington police bill. This is a proposition to largely increase the police force of the District, and place it in the

Cure for Drunkenness.—Anexchange recommends the following as an infallible cure for beastly intoxication:

Whenever a person is in a stupid and insensible state from the abuse of intoxicating drinks, lay bim out on his right side, elevate his left arm, and pour cold water down it slowly. Before a common pitcherfull can be emptied, the mau will walk perfectly sober.

"rouse the inmates of the hotel, after

this manner: "Landlord, I say landlord, bring me a hatchet upon the landlord making his appcarancc and inquiring what me a hatchet," said the old preacher, "I want to blaze the way so that 1. may be able to find my way down when I want to." A great number of anecdotes arc told concerning this singular man, mauy of which are true. He is about as good a type of the Western pioneer as is living.

TheTukf.—Mr. Ten Broeckleavcs New York f»r Kngland on Wednesday next, to again contest tho palm of the superiority

hands of the President of the United I of the American and English race horses. States, iu order, as its friends allege, to take it out of the hands of partisan politicians here, and place it beyond their reach and control, to insure faithful and efficient services. I am not certain what ought to be done, but the exigencies of the times demand that something should be done, and that right speedily, for the city now lies at the mercy of the incendiary and the assassin, and life and property have no guaranties of protection and security. The state of things as now existing here at the

He has already sent over the famous Charleston, by imp. Sovereign, out of, Millwood, by imp. Monarch. Charleston is a flyer, and has won some of the fastest races in America. It was Mr. Ten, Broeck's purpose to have taken Bonnie Lassie, the unconquored, but she has, by an accident, gone amiss, and is done up for this season, unfortunately.

r\.N Unnatural Father.—A few daya since," a citizen of Boston died at the age

Capitol of this great nation, where reside, of 78. lie has been twice married, and

representatives of foreign govern-j was the father of six children. For the

disgrace to our name past fifteen years he has been a widower,

and a libel upon our republican institu- and during that time one of his daughters tions.- (has been his housekeeper, and for tho sake m» of ministering to his wants baa refused several advantageous offers. Two days before his death he informed this daughter that he had concluded to marry again, the

person being younger than herself, and that the condition of his marriage was tho binding over his property to his wife at his death.^Aftcr dinner he lay down upon a sofa in his room, and when his new made wife went to call him to receive visitors, the was dead. The daughter thu?- left destitute, is residing with a sister4:n: "1