Terre-Haute Journal, Volume 4, Number 14, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 2 January 1852 — Page 1

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A N N

A TALE I If REAL LIFE.

The twilight deepened, and the stars of a gleriousJune evening came oat in heaven. Fanny steps through the open window into tBe piazza, and bends forward, as if listening intently. Surely, she hears the distant gallop of a horse!— Yes, now it comes across the budge, down in the ravine!—now it aaoenda the hill—now comes the

fleameagerwhite

of a horse dashing up the road, urged an rider, and Fanny Austin turns quickly and re-enters the parlor, where sho demurely seats herself at a table and takes up a book, ,, Through how many twilights during the past year had rannv waited and watched for the coming of that milk-white steed! She had grown to know his gallop across the bridge as well as she fcnew the voice of his mister. Fannv's lover lived in the city five miles away—and irv all seasons, and in all weathers, came lo visit his liege lady on this favorite horse, a beautiful and powerful animal.— But this was the last time that Fanny would watch with loving anxiousness at that eastern window for the coming of the bold, impetuous rider,—for tomorrow they were to be married.

A sweet Ideal of early woman was Fanny at that moment, with her love-radiating face bent over her book, of whoso contents she saw not a word—with the forward fall of her light wavy hair, half-shading her shy, tender, soft blue eyes—with tho tremulous play of her parted lips, and the vivid flushings of her fair roundod cheek. She was dressed with childish simplicity, in a lawn of that most delicate blue we see in the for sky—with flowing sleeves, half revealing arms of faultless symmetry. Her white neck was uncovered, and, in place of a brooch, she wore at her UosOm a bunch of pale blush roses. How her high beating heart rocked them, andahook out their perfumesl-how eloquently, how fitly her love spoke, in tha rise and fall of those rose budi, and breathed in the fragrance they exhaled! AM .«

Thert is a quick step in the hall without—tho door is flung open! Let ua l#qh u|Jw»lh Fanny at him who stands on the threshold

A figure of medium height, mauly, yet more delicato than robust a faoe intellectually handsome, though exceedingly fresh and youthful the full red Mps all smiles, the large brown eyes all tenderness doep bluab on the slightly brotwed cheek the dark ourly hair somewhat disordered, and blown about tho broad brow by the fresh high wind. So stood Harry Leater—but only for an Inataut stood, a little blinded by the light, then atepptfd joyfully forward. Faotiy rose, half fond, half tearful, the passion of the woman striving with the shyness of the ohild to meet his glad embrace. "i'ou are late, to-night, d«rwrt" she said in an inquiring tone. §:#\.

"Yes my groomsman, Charley Mason, oame torught. I had not aeen him for nearly a year, and BO we had many things to talk about, never liksd tha fellow ao welt. Indeed believe 1 love all my friends the belter for loving you ao truly, Fanny. Like Juliet) the more 1 give, the more 1 have to give." "Such, dear Henry, Is tha infinite divine natttr^ of love* Did you find the evening ploaaantf* "Glorious! Tha air was both soft and,invigorating the starlight is very pure, and there it a trifle of a moon, you know, just enough to swear by.— Oh, Fanny, I was new ao happy as to-night! My heart wss aa the heart of a child, brimming aud bubbling over with happiness. I aung in ridinn through the dark pine woods some wild tuna, and 1 know not what words—little besides your name, I believe,—I took off my cap. and let tha winds frol* io as they would with my hair feel now, and see how damp it it with daw.'\fc

Fanny laid her hand caressingly among the shining cunt, then drew it away, with a blush, wfcil# her lover oontinued— "J am ao unspeakably happy—sometimes urging on Selim at a flirioua rate, the sooner to quench the hot thirst of my heart in your present*-some-times cheeking htm tip and sluing quite still, to let the great wave* of joy dash over me—till I oame to the burial ground on the hill beyond the ravin*. I had passed this a hundred tiroes with only a momentary shadowing of heart, aa a swift stream is shadowed by flowing under a willow but to-night at tha first sight at the gleaming, ghastly tombatones, rtefed la my saddle and groaned aloud."

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"Beeouao, low, I remembered you wore mortal, and not one of God's own imperishable angeb, as I had dreamed you—that ytm might leave my lovo, my bosom, for one of thoaO low, oold, lonely bed* of deep and dark forgetfUineaa, Oh, great Heaten, the agony oi the thought!** bo oriod, hiding h» faoe against Fanny's breast, while Mara that were reproach to hit manhood, dropped hot upon thooo pile Noah rows,

Fanny bowed her hea3f over ban, and aiid «£tb tender eohunnity— am ptrsuadad that neither death, aorlifo, aor angel*, nor piinOipalitiee, nor powera, war things twsent, nor tKuura to come, oan divide us now, or destroy our love, whkdi is of God, Though par* iah to afi tha univerae bostfto* 1 osa never die to |«i.M It "Botah. Fanny,w lie replied wilh fomathiiw of the fdrwardneaa of a loving child, «lf I stouldgo fintrJwsUI giim Iw me any! Would you ever oofli* «o my grave tajpetp.and iMNe«ih«r a at I ad if

3»w

ST^pBACC GBFFSfWOOD. "-'J. .. .{

Fanny Austin stood it the window while the sun was setting—an open French window, "whore flowing white curtains half hid the slender form of the young girl, She was not looking towards the west though the sunset pageant was beautiful to behold .—she was looking towards the east, not at the shadowy sky, not at the dark forest crowned hills, but faraway down the dusty road, wilh her lovely, smiling, expectant eyes. The gold ar.d crimson sunset passed away, the dews and shades of twilight oome on—and still Fanny stood at the window. A servant entered end lit the lamps, and as she went out, looked back at the fair girl with pleasant, knowing tmile then Fanny's mother came in—quietly arranged a slightly disordered table—looked at her abstracted daughter silently, but with a fond, proud, most motherly expression, and passed from the room-

S|uent

a Uttlo alw aided? "not toag.t

fitink." Henry looked up bewildered, and aha couwwed

with a quivering lip, "because, dearest. 1 should toon be lying by your aide. And now," she added smilingly, "let as talk of brighter things. I never saw you in a mood so meUndboiy and foreboding. Clouds of all kinds are so foreign to your sunshiny nature. 1 rode over to our house with mamma, to-day. Evefy thing is in perfect order there, now. The last thing did was to arrange your books in the litlla library. Your own dear mother aays she will have the parlors lit op and tea all ready for as the evening we get back from the Fslls,M, •fSay tlte evening we reach home, Fanttyt 1 want to hear you speak that word, ao I may be sure I am not dreaming of a pleasant, qtmt home, and a blessed little wife of my own." "Well, then, home—your home—our home, to be presided over by an ignorant little child wife, a thousand removes from an angel, but in your love, indeed, 'blpssed among women.' ^Now are you satisfied?"

7..^' &

After receiving ner lover's unspoken, yet elo-

response, Fanny laughingly resumed:

ancy we shall have a funny sort of a menaceboth so young, so totally inexperienced, and with, to aay the least, such exceedingly modest means. 1 wish we could live like the fanes, on dew and honey or, rather as the angels live, pure love. Oh, then, Harry, we could 'fare so, tuously every day.' Ulut, alas, we are only a pair of mortals, and so we most be industriou prudent, and rub along as we can "Why, Fanny, dear, I am not so veiy young: I was twenty (sst March. I shall be admitted to the bar in about two years. In the meantime, my father will do all he can for us, although he dont esteem early marriages very prudent things. I mean to prove tohim that I can be as steady« studious, diligent and economical, as any plodding, moneymaking old bachclor in town. 1 shan't hear of your giving up any luxuries, Fanny, or making your dainty hands hard with any sort of work but I have already given up play-going and cigars, and I think some of selling Selim." "Never!" cried Fanny. "What! sell the faithful creature which has borne you so sorely and swiftly to me every Saturday evening in tho year? It would make ua too much like the reduced tknd disenchanted couple I have somewhere read of. who killed and cooked the very carrier-dove which had flown back and forth with their love letters."

At this moment a bright little lad of ten years opened the door, saying—"Sister Fanny, a bandbox has come to you from the city." "Oh, then, bring it in here," she replied. The lad vanished but re appeared in a moment, wilh the box, which Fanny eagerly opened, and took a dres of plain white silk, and a long white veil of deli-* oate laoe. "This is dear papa's gift," she said "Isn't it a beautiful veil, Harryt" "Yes," he answered, "very beautiful. What is it ad of ok us in

Fanny smiled at his ignorance, assuring him that it was of laoe, and that of superior quality. "Do you admire the dressl" she asked, after .a moment's silence. "Oh, yes, greatly but it is not as pretty as tne one you have on. By the way—I think, I am sure 1 remember that dress. Isn't it the very one you bad on. at Commencement, the first time I saw you!" 1C* "Yes," answered Fanny, with a bright blush "it is rather old-fashioned now but I thought if you should happen to recollect it, you would be p|Qtwe.d to have me wear it to-night." "Dearest Fanny, how good, how just like you that was. I have always thought this just the loveliest dress in the world the color belongs to you, by the right of your eyes and, now 1 tlwuk ol it Fanny, can't you be married in bltteV*

Fanny laughed outright at this, saying the idea was quite absurd and impossible. "My milliner meant lo have my bridal array quite complete,*' the added, "for here is the wreath of orange blo&som*. What think you of this, Herryt" "Away with ftl" he replied "there is something stiff, stalely and exotic in those flowers. Do wear instead, a few just such rose buds ae in your bosom. They are almost white they are simple and sweet, and thoy breathe of home. You will wear them won't you dearest!" "Oh, gladly, for these, too, have their associations. The tree that bore them was your first gift for me. Henry, Henry, I would like to'humor you about the blue dress also, but it is altogether out-of the question."

As the lovers finally turned away from tha table whereupon stood the band box, their eyes fell upon Willie, Fanny*s youngest brother, who was fast asleep, in the ohair. Henry laid his hand upon his head he started up and rubbing his oyeasaid: "I am sotting up ao late because I wan't to fetch Selim for you but you neodn*t be in a hurry."

The young man laughed, looked at his watch, and told the fad ha might go for the horse at onoe. Willie darted off to the stable, brought out Selim, but bad he pleaattr* of exeroising the animal for several minutea in tho yard before his master came forth to claim him. All that time was Harry Lester taking leave of his affianced—always going but never gone. Ho frit in hit heart a Strang*, *ad yearning—some wild, inexpressible foreboding— a fearful shrinking from tha tiight without, beautiful and peaceful as it was—a aocnething that caused him to snatch Fanny again and again to his heart* as though some dread power, unsoott, but darkly felt, were striving to glide between them, and part thornfbwws

At last, Fanny gently unwound bis irtfts fitwh her waist, and took a atop backward- He yielded bar up with a sad smile, but kissed her once again and said "Good night!" Fanny rawed her finger with a gesture, playfully forbidding and said. "Remember, now, you have kiasad Fanny Austin for

Henry laughed, and Fatoty followed him to the door to see him off. She patted tho impatient Selim on tee neelt, and whitpered to him, "bear him aafely—wry safely."

As Henry gathered tp tho reiui, and was about starting, he said suddenly, with glance at Wilfie, "Oh, Fanny, a word in ytwr oarF* She drew nearer, and put up her feoe her lover bant not to, her oar, tat to bar lips, and so kiaoed Fanny Ana tin once more! Hwn with a merry laugh and another good sight, be dasfcad through the g«a and downtberoaa.

Fanny aooo ascended to her chamber, but she did not entire to rest. Ffcngingashawl about her ahouldacm aha eat down by the window, and )dofc» od out upon the night. Tha* eheapoke low lo beraatf, in aU tho aMMMeioaa poetry of krr*. "How fer the atari can ten with their door unveiled eye.

oould not nan ktttafce4t*nk in ifcair fengranoa, and said *\Mtfce wise susstnas tfea night air, ao lovo awoetuns Bfe fo» V%» CM* 1 Mwe Tfcott alike

Sight

—brightnoaa •a,

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4,1

bs, on me wit re, cuflfefp era' uiKiF I^^HM

of a religious andkwiog beart,*be bowed her head upon the window-sill before her. Suddenly she started, leaned forward, and listened eagerly. She was sure sheheard heir own name called in an tin* ploriflg voice. it seemed aound^r 3n» th« ravine beyond the hill Ooee saoro earae—e wild, sorrowful, piercing cry. It waa Henry's voice.— She stole down stairs, passed noiselessly through the eastern window, and fan down the road. She was not mistaken, for a little way beyond the bridge Selim was standing, with his Mad drooped aalHy over his matter, who was lying on tho ©rasa of the roadside.

As Fanny passed over the bridge she saw that a plank had been broken through. She flung herself down by her lover cfyrng. "Henry, dearest Heury are you much hurtl" lie seemed to have fainted but he soon revived mdlooked up, exclaimed brokenly: "Qh, Fanny, have you comet Now it will be so hard to die!" "Dear Henry, don't talk so. I hope you are not badly hurt." "Fanny, I am mortally hurt. Selim broke thro' the bridge, and throw me. cutting my head here in the temple—then, in extricating himself, he fell on me with all his weight. I afterwards got strength crawl out on this grass, and to cill you twioe

Fanny, Fanny, I knew I am dying-my breast all crushed in and my lunga seem filling blood." Oh, then let me run or shoot for help." "No, dearest," he Whispered, "only take mein your arms, and let me die on your bosom, under the stars alone with you 1 have the strength even to die."

Then Fanny, bewildered, broken-hearted, but strangely calm, raised Henry's head, and pillowed it on her breast. ThOse thick curts she had teen so ttle while ago, and bright with dew, were now dark and heavy, with blo«td trickling from the severe wound in the temple. Oh, then, Fanny was no longer ahy or chary of her tenderness. She passionatelly kissed the lips, the eyes, the brow, the already cold hand of her lover. She ltvished on him all the endearing names, the fond protestations her diffident, girlish heart had been storing up for the use of wife, through years of trial, sorrow, and ever-deepning affection. Then she wept and pray* ed, and folded that poor Wounded head against her breast, as though to staunch the blood, which only flowed faster by the warmth it stained all her bosom, and turned those pale blush rosea to deepeat crimson. Henry who seemed to have beqn again insenisible, suddenly opened his eyes and whispered: "My blood will spoil that beatitifol blue dress.*' "Oh my love! my soul!" cried Fanny, "would to God it flowed from my own heart. Would lo God I oould die for you, for I cannot will not stay in this dark world when you are gone Henry Jot my life is in your love." i#? "My dearest, do not grieve so bitterly something tells me even now, that we shall not be long parted only be patient, love, for a little while."

After lying quite silent for some moments, looking upwards, he exclaimed almost in his usual voice— "My spirit is passing Fanny: Heaven is ready now: all the stars aeem to have rushed together, and formed one great central brighness—a world of light to which I rise!" Then, reaching up his arms and winding them about her neok, he murmured, "Kiss me once more, my Fanny, my dear, my only love, my wife once more, good night!"

As he breathed those words, a stream of blood, looking so fearfuly black in the dim starlight, poured from his lips his arms drooped, ana Henry Lester was dead!

Then Frtnny fell forward upon his brenst, and sent forth a shriek, ao fearful and pieroeiog that every slumberer in the house was roused, and guided by tho voice of the long pent-up agony, came to look uponJhe piteou|sight o|her awful bereave-

In that pleasant parlor, ^where but an hour before had set the betrothed lovers, in life and lovo, in love's most blessed hope and moat unutterable joy, was now extended the form of one ghastly, bleeding, dead! while over It hung the pale distracted faoe of her who kept all night her watch Of speechless unimaginable sorrow.

Fanny Austin oould not follow her loyer to the grave. After the last lingering look upon Ins jfaoe, as he lay in his coffin, she for the iirst time fainted. She was borne to her rOom, where she remaned insensible for some hours. That night she said to her mother, who watched by her aide "Where have ,hey laid lienry!" "In the 8outh-west corner of the graveya«d un. der the large elm tree," was the reply. All the" succeeding day, Fanny's grief was bitter and despairing, but at night she was calmer and earnestly deaurod to be alone. Early next morning, her mother went to her chamber, and was surprised to find her looking much like her former self, and speaking almost cheerfully: but towards night she relapsed into fits of passionate weeping*—a most desolate and hopeleaa grievirg^ iAgain with aleep, seemed to oome peaco, even on exhalation of apirit, Which conduced only for the morning hoars,—and so it continued throughout the week. The poor child 1 gave her mother a beautiful explanation of thin I mystery/* "Every night,** she said, *«tny Henry come to me in a virions lie folds ner in hi* arms, and lays his hand on my hot forehead, and looks so pitifully into nr Neyes be wipe* away ray tears, and comforts roe. oH, ao divinely! He looks as he always did on earth only yet mora beautiful was ao proud of htr beauty, mother, that I did not think it possible ha could grow more beautifol erven in heaven: but be seemed »o in my dream. He give* me strength and joy to suatain me until we meet again but I am ao weak before the long day ia through that it leaves met Yet he never fails to coaae io ma or draw me to him, I scarce know which. I aeem in a state tike that of the Apoede, when he knew not whether ha was in the body or out I only know that I am with htm, and content."

A strange rumor spread through the neighborhood, and finally rammed tho femUy of Fanny, that aoasa belated traveller had aaea in the midatof the night, at ahape of aUniog white, gliding about the grave of Henry Lester, But OM among Ma, frieoda was so superstitious a* to hood tho etory.

On Saturday ight, just one week from fee tfcaa of tha heart-brealdng tragedy, Fanny'a fether, who woe a physician, waa riding hosauwari, aim* fine after twelve, and as ha wan paastog the grave yard, in sight of hie mm houao, ha wnasstardod lo ohaorve aome white ofcject *t the grave of young Leater. Dr. Austin waa truly a bravo raan, and after a fc«r momenta of indecision W dSHsounted aa* etttfod the totttly burial pteoo. The appearmnoa uthugvuvugww metw and morwdistisict. aa he #rew softly near, it waa a human IWHM FNMF TO thaeartbl One moment mom, he h^l nmohed the spot, and found lint n#n daughter Fanny, in har bridal dtwss, lytag he^othe graaar vt harkmtf. with har faaa upon dwibeuei. and wi* umwoi^ ioMovwIft. ahoehnd abrmed hay and npfuauni, heMllad h«rMHM, layinf hja o# harFair»^. MfttMMlvl •WBQmmRQf «MW Oloedy in her fasn, In naw that afca .nm il«|li| die atrange and wusM^frfclrieej- of the scmnamha

'I TERRE• AUTE, INDIANA,%RIDAV, JANUARY 2,

list. Re raised her gently in his about tnhear her hoaaeward. when she awoke to complete conciousness. "My God! where am It" she exclaimed looking wildly around.

As tentlerly ai possible her father told her what had happened as he half carried her home. She wept ana seemed much agitated, but begged that ahe might go quietly t|J^ ch^f w^t disturbing her mother. .i

From that night, Sfra. Ausdo^alwaya remained with her daughter, watching and Awakening her whenever ahe arose in her bridal dress, and prepared to steal out to her grave yard trust. It was -needfi.l. but uwas cruel for from that tisM Fanny sunk in body and apirit. Sbe aeemed to utterly luck the miraculous sustainment ahe had known at first —the vision and the comfort wot* gono together.

One, day aeeing her mother weeping ahe aaid "Is it not written, that, 'man roust forsshe father and mother, and cling unto his wifef* Can a wife do less for her husband! Mother God has wedded meto Henry my soul cleaves to his, that they cannot be separated, and when he calls I must go to him even from you!"

At a later period she said.-'-Mofher, deaf, I wan't you to aeethat no ghostly ahroud is put on me, but a soft white muslin dress and fold ray bridal veil about me, so that all may knoirthat I waa At* bride, and not Death's^ And, oh! mother, keep very sacred the blue lawn I wore on that last night, and never let them wash Henry'a blood out of it- Most of all, 1 want you to promise me to plant with your own hand, that blush rose tree that Henry gave me. ao that the roses will fall upon us both."

Before the leaves of the elm tree over Henry Lester's grave waa goldened by the autumn frosts bis Fanny was lying at his side. When June came round again, the grass was long and green, and the rose tree grew more beautiful there, and when the evening winds shook the branches, they scat* tered a sweet largess of leaves upon the mounds, and flung out a fragrance on the air sweeter than aught else save the memory of the lovers sleeping below.

Often has my mind dwelt long and deeply on those dreams, which were yet no dreams—those sweet, exalted visions, those trances of love and sorrow, which drew that tender and dellicate girl arrayed in her dridal dress, nig{it after night, to the lonely grave of her betrothed. Oh, beautitul adorable mystery oiT love! Oh, grave, where was here thy victory! Oh, mortality, where the might of thy prison walla! As of old an angel cams in the night time, and led forth the prisoner.

Thare is a wondrous hidden life within us all, deeper and truer than that of which we have an every day understanding and conoiouaness—a life triumphant over death pain and sorrow—all the mournful conditions of our immortal beings.— When they who loved the maiden would have feared her suffering from night darkness and cold, with the grosser physical senses sealed, she walked in light ineffable, and breathed the soft airs, the balm of celestial day. When the chill dews descended on her dellicate frame, she was shielded, folded about by Irms of immortal tenderness: when her soft oheek lay against the hard grave mound, she was hiding her rapt, contented face in the bosom of her lover.-—National Era.'m

A Fox« tteveaye.

Rev. J. Murray in his works on on Creation^ tells the following story '4* An old and respectable man of the County of Montgomery used frequently to relate an anecdote of a circumstance which he saw. In his youth he had lived on the banks of the Hudson River.' One day he went out to a bay op the river in ofier to shoot ducks or wild geese. When he came to the river he saw six geese beyond shot. He determined to wait for them to appraoch the shore. While sitting there, he saw a fox come dotffi to the shore and atand some time and observe the geese. At length he turned and went into the woods, arid came out with a large bunch of moss in his mouth. He then entered the water very silently, sank himself, and then keeping the moss above tho water, himself concealed, he floated among the geese.— Suddenly one of them was drawn under the water, and the fox soon appeared on the shore with the goose on his back. He ascended the bank and found a hole made by the tearing up of a trer. The hole he cleared, plaoed in the goose, and ©over od it over with great care, strewing leaves over it. The fox then left and while he was gone, the hunter unhuried the goose, closed the hole and resolved to awsol the issued ,?v- *:i

7*^ L*1

In about half an hour die fox returned with another in company. They went directly to the place Where the goose had been buried and threw out the earth. The ge*m could not be found. They stood regarding sch other for some time, when auddenly the second fox attacked the other most furiously,as if offended at tho trick of his friend.— During the battle the man shot both of tham.

A very good thing is told of an editor of a paper at Eitnin Illinois, it appaara that there are two papers, one of which is edited by Mrs. C. If. Burr. It happened that she and the editor of the journal, Mr. Faiimao, recently got into a quarrel, and the former received some sharp raps from her coteroperary in hreeohea. As an offset to this, Mrs. Burr sent a. little poetic gain to Mr. F. for insertion over a fictitious naine, of course—entitled tha "Death of Summer." Fairman nabbed at the bait, ^The poetic gent Vas sot before his readers (with a puff.) it proved 1o ha an acrostic—4he initial letters reading "Long live Fairman, Prince of Asses. Amen!" Fairman since that* baa had aoaae notion of leaving for California, and is only prevented from going by his wife and nine children, who be would be obliged to drag altar him.

Hoosism in BO3TOH.—Thta story ta told of an Illinois roan stopping in Boston. After dinner he bought a cigar and sauntered out kt a walk. Soon a foHeaaatt tapped him on die shoulder and mMfied him (hatha incurred a fine of #X for smoking In the streets. The stranger broke a and paid the penally. Shortly after a ohild who wanted **a to hiy «leaf eftrflad, and hadntno break-

he healewed gry one. Thereupon a eecond officer approached aaid informed him thUt ha |aud violated another ordinannu uf the city with The heeaiat hundad out ti|a biH T%n olSuar prseeatfed hint the Aaufe- Be ahoolt his huad, **kaep tho whole—i WSHH Kp VUKW

MIA- l^aaaa&akse 1st. 1M HO vW HKKBWB tt' ttn wW •ranwunevyisf nian. The ptgrnaus of dte world

MpMi

Id —iff km IflMAj mmkA 4* ivn pi^svaiSa. Let the Srea of eswgy play through yourvainn. Awd^W your dwnghts am dirooindia tho rinht channels* nt yst narda the n8am"WP" I"..1"-.1*1 haiiB^ nniversa

We aelda» sppienisto ksauy tsaflB li feian-dbe-didtoa,nnd then with jealous c&ni

JOHN Tuovnora DAveem St ruaaa c*asv. A ftthw Mv KiatKkT^ ctkaa, •ia "BaatiwUi a«t tatry..

Total,

AImI t*u glv« tlwaaaOvar d' T« raw sa o'ar Aa farry. 1

**lf«w who waaM eraaa tha Ohto, Thia darli aad atsrtay wrtwr* "O* I an tbta maf lady'a I

O, I am tata MBf twfy'a baaa» A ad Aa, JohaThainpaoa'a daafbtan Wa're flad before her fathar** ^pita, pr«ci(itaUaa, And ihwM ba &a4 aa bar* t,

I'd ioaa my reputation.

r. r, A»d wka rf»il ofaaar my boaay brida,

.» Ia da ajar .halt aot Urry,

TbayVa miaaed tba and faraa btaMd,, «m^|

Hay* Ht* horaamea harJ bava pnaaad mc,

Oat apaka tha baatman thaaia tttua, "You ahall not fall don't faar it. v.| j.H m, aat for yaar silver dime,

BatiUr yaar nwaty apirit. Aad by my ward, Ae beuaj^hrtda

For tboafb a atorm ia on, 1 .V I'll row yon o'ar tba feiry. Mw By this tba wtad mora flare^y a 'i'ha boat waa at tha landing, &

Aad with tba dranching rata Ihalr clothva,. Grew wat whara U«ay ware ataadlag. Bat atliln aa wilder roaa tba wlad, 1

Ami aa tha eight graw draarar, Juatback apiece, cama th* pollee, Tbrtr tmmptaf aaamlad aaarar.

i- «0, haata Uma haate!" tha lady criea, °*fl Art U'a anything but fanayj 19% 111 leave tba light of lo*ing ayta,

Bat aatmy fatbarH maaay!" And allll they hurried la the faea

||w Of wtad aad rata aaapartec a Johu ThonuMoa reached tba^laadiag place, Hia wrata was taraed ta sWaarlag.

For, by the lightnlngV aagry flaah, HU child ha did diaoovar One lovdy hand held all hU oaah, 's stf4 Had eaa wss raaid har lovarff^ 8* "Ceme back, come baok," ha cried ia woe, Hi# Aoraas theatarmy water, "Bat leave the paraa, aad you raav got

& The gold he piled, went wilh hla child#* W~ And he was left there miaas.

y,s

V" My daughter^0, my daagbter,"' *Vj 'Tww vala, they reached the other ahore, *feai (Saeh dooma the Aitos aaaiga as,}

SnbUuMi

They tall ma that I'm handaoma yet, And all the ladiea aay—

"Do look at Mm-"the iear aid maa\ Grow* younger a»ery day I' 15

And when each fi load aaka at voor aga "How oame you free from ill!" youth

I alwaya anawer, "la my paid my printer'"! bul! From"the Railroad Journal. ^."nv^l. la Iaiiaaa. Wfe^tVfe below a list of railroads in Indiana, which are either completed, or which are in snub a state of forwardness, that they will be finished within a year from this date, with the exoeption of the Ohio and Mississippi, and some portions probably, of the New Albany and Salem roads:

New Albany and Saleni road,^ James Brooks, President, JeffeisotiviUe. 3 so vi

I S

W. G. Armstrong, President, Jeffersonville. 3 Madison and Indianapolia, 86 John Brough, President, Madison. 4 Shelbyville Branch, 16 6 Ru^inlleBfuich. 20

Hubbard, Pres., Rushville. 6 Knightstown, s#» 27 II. B. Hill, Pres., Carthage. 7 Lawrer.oeburg and Indianspollsf^

G. II. Dunn, Pres., Lawrenceburgh. 9 Indiana Central, J. S. Newman, Pres., Cenlorvtlle. 9 Richmond, 10 New Castle and Richmond, .t 28 1. P. Elliot, Pres., New CaaUe. 1! Indianapolis and Bellefontaine, _• 83 0. H. Smith,'Pres., Indianapolis, 12 Peru and Indianapolis,

John Burk, Pres., Indianapolis. 13 Lafsyette and Indianapolis. A. S. White, Pres., Lafayette. 14 Crawfordsviile ,.r xo 1. C. Elston, Pre»., Crawfordsvflla."

15 Terre-Haute and Richmond, C. Rose, Pres., Terre-Haute. 16 Evaoxviile and lilinois,

An Irishman passing^own Third Mreet yesterday, discovered a dollar bill laying on file pave* menu He eyed the creature sufficient u» aacert^io that it was one of the same stamp of one on which the day before ha had lost tan cents by way of discount. "Bad luck to the likes of ye'a," exclaimed Pat, as he passed on. "There ye may tie, not a finger will I put on ye for I lost tan cents by a brMhotuf yours yeatorday.

Free-Soil Nationkl Conrentkm, it has been arranged by the Free-Soil members of Congress, shall be held next spring at Pittsburg, after the Whig and Democratic National Conventions shall have taken place. Among those named as candidates for tha Presidency, the moat prominent are tho Hon. John A. Dix. of New York, Joshua R. Giddings and John P. Hale.

A married man says he would alwaya have retinedsinfl^e, but ha oouldnV a®wd h. What it ©osft him for-gals and ice-cream" was more than m$9» Mtya to bring up a wifo and eq(ht children. Baci^Vwa should thtnk of tWs. sr

A TOAST.—The women of Ameriea:—¥hey are a8 Bloomers by nature, md dress them as you will tfcgir bloom aril nevar die.

Tha numbrrof hoga that wffl bs packed at Peoria ma.,*bs»saon,wlB fall IfOO short of that of ..

JwnyUnd will give Iwrlaat omtoart to AoMai* ^i»4«ir fash, onibn JusKMiyr^' Mfr&r iJvenMlnttfhe l«h. r' #i.-

s^Tb«r^«tSelowf9 of tha nMlharf whohas watdmdI oor ciQUhood---l^r uowearied devMiba, mto forever he mirrored dniheluman heart.

jf Mann, a^ar ^inka thnlt'-Gaiaiaftna li awl''

ooonti^ia so

0 6

i* so

Samuel Hall, Pres., Princeton. 17 Martinsville Branch, 18 Northern Indians,

Geo. IRias, Pres., Springfield Mass. 19 Extension, Greenville, and Miami, E. B. Taylor, Pras.

20 Ohio snd Missisairoit

135

*****.£

NO. 14.

Wmbisftva CervespeaAeaao of tie WaawwomH, December I), 1851. The Kossvth fev#r, or aathe French more significandy would say, the Koaauth furor, waxes high here and he ia, beyond doub, a most extraoMi* nary man. He will leave an impression amoag us, which will last for ages 1 will not undertake to say, Aat ha will obtain all he desires from our govern* ment, hut he wlft sef our people to thinking and in a year from thta time, they wHI entertain, 1 will venture to say, very different, and much mdrp exalted opinions of our high destiny as a nation, than they do at this time. One thing, howtver, he will accomplish and that, too, in season to be available to him and his ooutitrymen in t!eir approaching eon teat with, the combined despots of Europe he will obtain aioney to a very considersbio amount, principally by wny of private donations. Th| New York payees, eatitiMM, tnat he will realise in this way, someathaee ttaajt-one million of dollars! Perhaps, atao. he may obtain a loan, in hnitstiott of the United States, during their revolutionary strug. gle but of this the acoounts do not apeak so oonfi* dontly. *t6cj^|Vr

The resolutions, welcoming him to this country, have passed both houses by targe votes—only six dissenting voices in tho Senate to 33 in favor, and aixteen in the Abuse lo 181 in favor and it is now announced that he will visit tho seat of government, in the course of a week or ten days, if is reception here will be very flattering^ and notwithstanding very strenuous efforts to the contrary, will unavoid** abfy be full of political moaning.

You are aware, I presume, that Virginia, last year, held a convention for amending her organic law the old constitution contained several pro visions which restriciod the right of suffrage very much, and permitted properly holders lo vote in all tha counties in which they owned property tha consequence was, that by the construction of railroads and other facilitiea of conveyance, many proprietors were enabled to vote several times, while those who held no property were entirely exoluded from the polls. This unequal, and some^ what oppressive provision, has been abrogated in^ the new constitution, and tha right of suffrage has' been plaoed upon a broad and truly republioan basis. The first election under the new order of things oame off last week and although the whiga counted upon large gains by the alteration, and nominated for Governor the most talented and popular whig in the State, whose eleotion was very confidently predicted by Seoretary Stewart, and other leading whig statesmen, yet, the demoerata have swept the Slate, by large and inoreaaed majorities.

The Jackson Democratic Association! held a meeting the other evening, and fully endorsed the democracy pf Gen. FOOTB of Mississippi, as being unimpaired by bis recent conflict in hia own State. The Association, partake of hisjriumph, and bi^ him God apeed for the future, vmttm

Commodore Stockton, or, as he is more familiarly known among the sailors, %Fighting Bob," bids fair to be one of the most influential statesmen be* longing to the Senate. He is a man of more than ordinary mental capacity, which has been improved by a sound practical education, and the wholO ripened by more than thirty years |prvice In the Navy, known to be one of the best possible schools for learning men, and' for observation in all the quarters of the world. This has given him an ent§ larged experience in all the practioal, (or moref properly speaking) business affairs of life, worth more to the general statesman, than all the diplomatic training ever discovered. It is this experience and practical knowledge with which the Commodore approaches every subject presented to his oon* slderation which superadded to an ardent aod sterling patriotism, invests all that be utters on tha^ most trivial subjects, with an interest very rarely fait in the current debates of the Senate. In many reapects, his mind possesses many of the loading characteristics of that of General Jackson, and if he continues In the Senate a sufficient length of time# I have no doubt he would be almost as mueh of favorite witb the great body of the people. Bis name already Boats at the head of twenty-two democratic papers as a candidate for the Presidency .*

Tha Compromise resolutions offered in the Sen-4 ate at the commencement of the session, by Gen? FOOTS, were called up for discussion, on the 15th" hist., when Mr. Rhett of South Csrulina, let off probably tho first, thoroughly traitorous—avowedly* traitorous speech aver heard in tbo Senate 1 He unhesitatingly avowed himself a disanionbt,and a secessionists and indulged in many ather. singular, and 1 may add, disgraceful, avowals,* Geo. FOOTS commenced yesterday his reply to him, which will be oontinued to-day and all unite in pronouncing it, thus far, one of the ablest, most eloquent, and scathing speeches, that has ever fallen from tba Hps of the gifted and patriot^Senator.

Mr. Clay'a health still continues Hry precarious^' and it is rumored, 1 thiuk with tnjrti, that he is to retire from the U. S. Senate, and that hie has been transmitted to tha Legislature of Kentucky. Sum Id this prove to bathe ease, may be regarded as the close of this eminent man**, pdiycal life, for bU vury advanced age, forbids tho hope that he can ever so fur recuperate as to bo able to encounter the great latyr and responsibility whioh any high public station would devolve upon hfenF The biography of Mr. Clay Is interwoven with home ot the mart vying, as wrO «as of the brightest pages of our national hutory and noj* withstanding he wW fmrirtfoiy nevftr auaiit to tho great ekject of his ambition, an aafbitioo, Which has baen the means of elouding some portions of hia useful and eventful tile, yd, be will ever be regarded as on# of our moat patriotic agd giiftgt^

my lastphr mild weather, with which, ireft favored dorfrttr tho five

six ptevioh*

hi* leftai and we b«ve boon viaijed by if" greater dajpee of oofcl tha* hs* been frit itiffy** city, as 1 am informed, for tusny year*.t PotOcoftO is foe-bound. The weather during' tSo last few daya, it is statfeli on cwupttwnt authority, haa boon eight or mue degree* cold+Jt iha& tho coldest day of last wjnter. 8AJMSAC.-