The Camden weekly journal. [volume] (Camden, South-Carolina) 1853-1861, May 31, 1853, Image 1
VOLUME 14 CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA TUESDAY MORNING MAY 31, 1853. NUMBER 22. 1
1 * I rn VI, . snL
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PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY
THOMAS J. WARREN.
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Jl S'flfftfil Calf. i
THE DEATH COIJ3CII.. I
OR THE SECOND POCAHONTAS. i
{A true story of the early Settlements of N. York.]
B V 11 E X R Y R.TRACY. I
Tba first white settler of the town of West- j }
nioreland, iu Oneida county, New York, was
James Dean, Esq, a native of New England,
and a graduate, we . believe, of Dartmouth,
College. In his boyhood he had been sent
among the Indians on the Susquehana river, to
acquire their language, as it was the intention
of his parents that he should become a missionary
to carry the gospel among the dark
skinned sons of the forest. j
Hc~became intimately acquainted with In- :
dian character and customs, so that upon his
appointment to the post of Indian Agent, with
the rank ot Major, after his studies were coin !
pleted, and upon the breaking out of hostilities j
in 1775, he made himself a favorite with the ;
Oneidas, in whose vicinity he was stationed
during most of the war, and was adopted into
the tribe according to Indian custom, and became
a favorite son of the wife of a chief.
In 1787 he found himself settled upon a
tract of land, two miles square, granted to him j '
by the Oneidas at the close of the war and on j '
which.he had erected a small house, which af-, s
forded a comfortable shelter for his young wife ; 1
and two rosy children, one two years old and .
the other an infant of a few months.
Major Dean was at this time happily situa- [
ted, so far as himself or any human intellect j
could discover to the contrary. The war of
the revolution was ended. His beloved conn- j
try, although she had waded thro'seas of hlood j !
to achieve her independence, was now, thank | '
God, free. Major Dean was far on the fron- j
tiers of civilization, almost in the bosom of a
"tribe of savages?the 0'ieidas, who alone ofj(
the Six Nations had fought under the Anieri- , J
can standard, and he was an adopted son of j
the tribe. It is true that his young wife often j !
sighed as she thought of the home she had left '
behind in a pleasant village in the valley of the ! *
Connecticut, now celebrated for its onion^"; :
but he reminded her of the advantages of their j 1
early location, in the seetion ol the country : f
whose fertility would soon attract the enterprising
New Englanders to the neighborhoods ,
which then seemed so lonely.
Although there were uo while residents
within many miles, yet the red-skins were j I
friendly. The wife of Skenandoah, the great j '
chief of the Oneidas, was his mother by Indian ! 1
adoption, and she often visited the wigwam if;
her pale-faced son, with presents for his "white !
squaw and Jittle pappooses."?They lacked not I !
for soft ntoccasin9, ornamented with bceds, and j !
?aC fko luwnnnino dverl scarlet lillle and I '
l?UIJ19 Ol HIV J?V#I VMJ/M.V j 7--, , ?
yellow. And especially did the good Nii'koah 1
delight in adorning the person of the oldest '
pappoose, after the Indian fashion, with trinkets 1
arid guads which seemed to civilized eyes more 1
grotesque than comely; and her black eyes 1
sparkled with delight when she saw the little
boy toddling about, a miniature brave, lacking
only the tattooing and the scap-lock. She also
bestowed upon the family presents, winch I
in their circumstances were more valuable to 1
them. Their larder never Tacked for game,! !
even when the Major's rifle and fowling piece I !
failed to procure a supply, for Nankoah brought \
the choicest the forest afforded just when it was
most needed, and most acceptable. If any 1
member of the little household fell sick, Nan- 1
koah was at hand with healing roots and herbs 1
which had greater efficacy than the more expensive
medicaments of the professional leech.
Without prying into the atfairs of his family J
after the civilized fashion, she was enabled by
her native gift of intuition, to discover and an- j
ticipate many little wants, and thus she added
materially to the sum of their happiness, secluded
as* they were from intercourse with their (
own race. 1
Tkno /tirl flio Aurlr /?nnnfpnnnen. nf llif> In. 1
dian woman become a light to Major Dean's '
cottage. She was beautiful, as those who in
later years have seen favorable specimens of
her noble tribe, will readily believe. Here was
a wild and solemn beauty, so to speak, which
seemed reflected front the dark evergreens of '
her native forest. Her form, which had never
been improved in the modern fashion, was fault- j 1
less; her raven hair was always arranged with !1
a certain degree of taste, her black eyes were j '
calm and loving in their ordinary expression, 1
while it was manifest to a keen observer, that
when passion stirred her heart, hatred and j
scorn would flash in lightning through them 1
from its depths. ,(
The orange colored mantle of autumn had
been thrown over the forests, and the crops, !
small, but valuable, which Major Dean had .
cultivated on his clearing, were already garnered.
For some days he had noticed that the !
Oneidas, whose village was situated about three !
miles oft', had apparently avoided him ; and as
Zie was uu mo iiiwot xicuuij iciuis ?itii iiicm
as a tribe, and some among them had ever '
treated him with particular marks of esteem, '
he was unable to account for this sudden cold- i
ness. On several occasions when he had 1
sauntered into the skirts of the woods in search
of game, he had casually met with an Oneida, 1
but before he could gain an opportunity to ac- {
cost him, the wiley red-skin had disappeared -(
in the depths of the underwood. These cir- '
cumstances had begun to produce an inrpres- I
sion on his mind, for he knew that they I oded '
no good to him; when at length, an Indian
who was especially indebted to him for kind- 1
ncss, carne suddenly upon him in the edge of I
lie forest one day, and revealed to him some
acts and circumstances which explained the
:onduct of his dark-browed friends, in a manler
which was calculated to produce great uneasiness
in his mind.
An Indian of the Oneida tribe had been murlered
by a white man, and according to the
belief of the red man, there could be no rest
or the departed spirit until his death was
ivenged. The Indian custom was, when one
jf a tribe wis murdered, to kill the murderer,
f possible, and if that was impracticable, one
jf his tribe must pay the penalty of his life to
secure rest to the soul of the murdered brave.
\n Oneida had been slain by a white man, and
is Major Dean was the only white within their
reach, the chiefs of the tribe were debating in
solemn council, the propriety of putting their
friend to death.
For several days the debate was prolonged,
the friendly Indian trivintra report each day to
Major Dean of what had passed in the council,
lie hoped, fondly hoped, that the party opposed
to sacrificing hi in would prevail. He.
;ould not fly with his wife and little ones, for
le kuew that he was watched, and that the
learest white settlement was too far distant to
je reached in safety. lie dared not inform his
wife of the uncertain tenure on which he livid
lis life, so dear to himself, for her sake and
ler children's. The suspense in which he lived
was fearful, and it required all his self-command
to conceal the anxiety that was consuming
.lint.
In the covert of the forest he prayed in agony
>f soul, that his wife and babes might not be
eft without a protector in the wilderness. A
voice from Heaven seemed to assure him that
lis petition was granted, and he retired to his
joueh that night more cheerful than lie had
been for several days. His Indian friend had
lot visited him that afternoon, but he felt sure
hat the council had decided in his favor.
lie slept soundly until near midnight, when
le was awakened by a cry proceeding from ^he
leighboring forest. His quick ear discovered
t?i a l,<iml nf flirt fliirtidiiu wftrii annroachmy.
v" ?1 ( pi
singing his death song. He aroused his wile,
ind in a few words informed her what had f.aten
place, and what must now he hi3 doom.?
Imprinting one kiss on her pale brow, he left
ier bending over the little ones in silent prayer
ind went into the outer room to meet the
Dneidas, who were already at the door.
In suite of his strongest efforts at self-poss-ession,
Major Dean's paleness betrayed theanxie;v,
the agony which gnawed his heart. But
lis lips were compressed, and the hand which
waved a haughty invitation for the chiefs to
inter, trembled not. He was brave, and fearid
not to die, but the thought of what might
jcfall fhe little group he had left in his sleeping
ipnrtment, almost unnerved him for the 'ask
it'dealing with his fierce guests, for he was
Jeteriruned to tn the power of his eloquence
inu reasoning w ith them, feeling certain that
10 personal ill-will against him, but rather a
sense of duty, had prompted them to seek his
ife.
The chiefs, six in number, sat down, and
Major Dean, having placed a candle on a table
which occupied one corner of the apartment,
ilaced himself in an attitude of attention. Silence
reigned for seine moments, the countenmees
of the savages betraying no emotion
whatever. At length a chief arose, and, in a
brief but energetic address, explained to object
if their vi>it. Their murdered brother, who
lad been a brave man during his life, could
:iave no rest in the hunting ground of spirits
inti! his inuider had been avenged by the death
if a white man. The Great Spirit himself was
now angry with his red children for delaying
l0 execute the sentence which some of their
irihe had been willing to pronounce on him
for many days.
M;iir?r Homii refilled in ;i SMPCch which he
iiopcd would make an impression on the savages
sufficiently powerful to cause a reversal of
their sentence. lie had been accustomed to
peak in Indian councils, versed in Indian lore
uid knew what arguments would be likely* to
have weight in the minds of the red sons of the
forests. All those he urged with all the eloquence
of which he was ma.-ter, dealing with
the question mostly in the abstract, and hardly
referring to himself and iho personal interest
which he had in his own life.
The Indian orator rejoined, and again Major
Dean replied to him, and thus the debate
went on between the two, the remainder of the
party preserving silence, and seeming perfectly
indifferent, or as if the matter was prejudged,
and the doom of the white man was already
fixed. It became evident to him that all
the arguments which he was capable of adducing
bad already been adduced and overthrown
in the protracted debate held at the council of
the tribe.
And as the debate went on, hope waxed
fainter and fainter in the heart of Major Dean.
He feit that no personal enmity was entertainfd
for him, but the Indian spirit of revenge ta
king high ground, operating like the white
man's sense of religions duty, was harder to
Jeal with, more difficult to allay or satisfy,
than any mere personal animosity. It was
the old Jewish code, an eye fur an eye, tooth
for tooth?blond for blood, and life for life.
But the motive of those poor savages was more
comprehensive in design than this bloody part
of the Jewish code?it was not merely to present
murder, but to secure eternal rest to the
soul of a slain brother.
Theanualsof mankind furnish butfew scenes
like that in the white man's cabin in the frontier
wilderness atmidnight, where he was pleading
alone for his life. No, not pleading for
life, for he knew when he became a mere suppliant
for existence, he would incur the contempt
of the savages, and peril his last chance
of saving it. He was, rather, engaged in an
attempt to prove, logically, his right to live,
md that they had no right to slay him.
He had for a long time maintained this high
position, but Ins hopes, as we have said, were
growing fainter and fainter as the debate proceeded.
The listening chiefs were beginning
;o manifest slightly, their impatience at the
protracted nature of the conference, when, durng
a brief pause, Maj. Dean caught the tones
af his wife's voice in the other apartment confei
ring not with flesh and blood, but pleading
fervently with her Heavenly Father to cause
D
the life of her husband to be spared. This was
too much for him to bear without betraying
the weakness incident to the nature of civilized,
refined men. For the moment he forgot the
group of terrible war-chiefs before him come
to take him away to execution, fie saw only
that other group in which his heart was bound
up, and for them he trembled with emotion,
for them he condescended to beg his life at the
hands of the stern warriors.
Urged by an impulse which he could not resist,
he poured forth a vehement appeal, couched
in language such as he would have addressed
to a band of white men in like circumstances.
When he had ended, lie detected instantly
a smile of exultation on more than one of
the dark countenances before him?a smile
which seemed to say "he, like all white men,
is weak-hearted." The orator bounded to his
| feet to reply, but during that instant of silence,
I a noise from another quarter arrested the atI
tention of the whole part}'.
A pattering of soft inoccasincd feet was heard
! on the thrcslihold of the outer door and across
the burn Hoor as Nryikouh entered the apartment,
followed by five other Indian women,
the wives of the first chiefs of the tribe. With
a soft step, but with determination stamped on
- 13 1 ,
| their brows, they entereu anu mugiu. wcmselves
on one side of llie room. The chiefs,
inexpressibly surprised as they were, by this
unheard-of breach of Indian etiquette, which
forbids unconditionally, any woman to enter
their councils, let full some ejaculations expres:
sive- of their astonishment, but Shenandoah
! signed to the orator to proceed. lie did so in
| a vein of irony mingled with invective, ending
in a strain like the following:
"Our brother's heart has grown soft, since
the wars are over, and he is afraid to die. We
thought our white brother brave, and not like
! women ; but all white men fear death. Is the
j white man's God less kind to his children than
our Great Father is to us, that he should fear
I to go to the land of spirits? Why should not
the white man die, win n oik of his nation hath
slain an Oneida ? The chiefs and the great
Shenandoah have spoken it, and he shall die!
Our knives are sharp, and his blood shall run
fast, for we would not torment our brother?
but be must die !"
When lie bad ceased, Skenandoah made a
sign as if he would adjourn the council; but
at this moment his wife, Nuukoah, the beautiful
Indian wotban, stepped forward two paces,
and the clear music of her voice was heard
throughout the the apartment, contrasting
strangely with the powerful tonee of the speaker
who had just ended. And while her auditors
were parali/.ed with astonishment, she
spoke, timidly at first but more energetically
! as she proceeded. She used no gesture, as
deeming it improper that a woman should attempt
to play toe orator, but with her hands
folded on her bosom, she pressed out from her
full heart words which produced a thrilling and
startling effect on all present. To Major Dean
she seemed at that moment, in her dark beauty,
like an angel sent to save htm from death,
and those whom he loved better than life, from
orphanage and widowhood.
"Oneidas," she saiJ, "the white brother must
! not diej The Cneidus must not make intio
I cent blood flow. He hath done nothing wor;
thy ofdea?h. The white who killed an Oneida,
he should fail under the hatchet?his life should
he paid for that of our brother'whom he hath
slain.
"Have the brave Oneidas cotnc to the wigwam
of onr brother to frighten his white squaw
j and his papooses? Lot them rat hen hunt out
the murderer. He is alive, he is guilty; he
has a bad heart; but our friend, he has not a
: had heart; he has always been our friend,and
' he is not the friend of the had man who slew
; an Oneida. Will you kill your friend who has
lived in your wigwams, and let the enemy of
the Oneidas live? Have the eyes of your
J braves grown dim, that thev cannot find the
1 track of the murderer? Have their limbs
i grown weak that they cannot pursue litin ??
Will you make the Great Spirit angry, by killing
an innocent man, and letting a murderer
live ?
' Your white brother is my son. He has
grown into my heart, and if the Oneidas pluck
him out, blood will flow. Nankoah and ber
sisters love him. and he shall not die alone!
"Look !" she continued, as she drew a glittering
knife from beneath her blanket, while
each of the Indian women imitated her example,
"you said your knives are sharp?ours arc
sharp too; we have sworn to the Great Spirit,
cUii fi?,l
Ulilb " illII iiililt\u.lll9 ami UIV.I, uin Oimu hum
their way quick to our hearts!"
Had the gleam of the threatening Unites,
and the flashings of the dark eyes of the excited
women been real lightnings corruscating
through the apartment, the assembled chiefs
could hardly have been struck with more profound
amazement than they were by this
speech and the dramatic movement which attended
it close.
There was a brief pause in the white man's I
cabin, during which nothing could be heard 1
except the beating of hearts and the tones
i husky with agony, from the adjoining room,
where the wife and mother was kneeling in
prayer. Just at that moment, too, the oldest!
child awoke, and mingled its prattle with the !
ascending petition. Maj. Dean's head dropped
011 his breast, ami tears ran in currents down
his cheek at the sound of that small voice.?
' Nankoah started forward involuntarily, as if
I nhout to rush into the sleeping apartment,
when Skenamloah, the chief of the Oneidas, i
sprang to his feet.
"It is enough," said he, "the Great Spirit
hath spoken! Never did woman before lift up
her voice in the councils of the Oneidas! Our
Father wills that our white brother must not
die! Let us leave liiin and return to our wigwams,
lost the Great Spirit be angry with his
red children."
The chiefs arose, and after consulting together
a moment, left the cottage, singing a
farewell to Major Dean, who was too much
absorbed by his emotions, almost to heed their
movements.
Nankoah approached him, and taking his
hand, said:
"My son. is safe! Let him go in and comfort
his white squaw and her little papooses."
Then, turning to her companions, she point
ed toward the Oneidas' village, and departed
with them from the cottage.
As their pattering feet crossed the outer
threshold, Major Dean clasped his wife and
children in his arms, and returned thanks to
Cod for his unexpected deliverance from death,
The records of Westmoreland and of Oneida
County show that he subsequently lived many
years, and when the whites had occupied the
rich lands of that region in great numbers, he
was ranked as one of the leading men of his
county, and held many offices of trust, to universal
acceptance. And from that hour of extreme
peril was he bound with the chords of
affection and gratitude to Naxkoaii. tub Second
pociiahontas.
iltisrfllaiif0it5.
C
Appointment of General Washington
as Cominamter-m-CEiief.
The following account of the appointment of
Washington to the supreme command of the
American Army on tiic 17th of June, 177/5, is
from the memoirs of John Adams, the elder,
now in course of publication.
The army was assembled at Cambridge, Massachusetts,
under Gen. Ward, and Congress was
sitting in Philadelphia. Every day new applications
in behalf of the army arrived. The
country was urgent that Congress should legalize
the raising of the army, as they were what must
be considered a mob, a band of rebels. The
country was placed in circumstances of a peculiar
difficulty and danger. The struggle had begun,
nud yet everything was without order.
The great trial now seemed to bo this question :
Who shall be commander-in-chief ? It was ex- j
ceedingly important, and was felt to be the binge i
on which the contest might turn for or against |
us. The Southern and middle States, warm and
rapid in tiieir zeal for the most part, were jealous
of New England, because they t'elt that the real
physical force was here?what then was to be
done ? All New England adored Gen. Ward,
he had boon in the French .war and went out laden
with laurels, lie was a scholar and a statesman.
Every qualification seemed to cluster in him ;
and it was confidently believed that the army
would not receive nuy appointment over him.?
What then was to be done ? Difficulties thickened
at every step. The struggle was to be
long and bloody. Without union all was lost.
The country, and the whole country must coine
in.?One pulsation must beat through all hearts.
The cause was one, and the army must be one.
The members had talked, debated, considered
and guessed, and vet the decisive stop had not
been taken. At length Mr. Adams came to his
conclusion. The means of resolving it were
somewhat singular, and nearly as follows :
He was walking one morning l>cforc Congress
Hall, apparently in deep thought, when his cousin
Samuel Adams, came up to him and said :
"What is the topic with you this morning!"
" Oh the armv," he replied. " I'm determined
to go into the Hail this morning, nnd enter on a
full detail of the colonies, in order to show the
absolute need of taking some decisive step. My
whole aim will be to induce Congress to appoint
the day for adopting the army as the legal army
of these united colonies of North America,
and then to hint at an election of Commanderin-Chief."
" Well," said Samuel Adams, "I liko that
cousin John ; but on whom have you fixed as
that commander ?"
"I will tell you?George Washington, of
Virginia, a member of this House."
" Oli," replied Samuel Adams quickly, " that
will never do?never!"
" It must do, it shall do," said John, " and for
these reasons, the Southern and Middle States
are both to enter heartily in the cause, and their
arguments are potent! they say that New England
commander, with New England pcrscverence,
all united, appal them. For this cause they
hang back. Now the only course is to allay
their fears and give them nothing to comply
of; and this can be done in no other way but
by appointing a Southern chief over this force,
alia tiien aii win j*umi to tnc standard. This
policy will blend us in one mass?will be resistless."'
At this Samuel Adams seemed greatly moved.
They talked over the preliminary circumstances,
and John asked his cousin to second the motion.
Mr. Adams went in, took the floor, and put all
his strength in the delineations ho had prepared,
all aiming at the adoption of the army. lie
was ready to own the army, appoint a commander,
vote supplies, and proceed to business.
Alter his speech had been finished, sonic doubted,
some feared. His warmth increased with the
occasion, and to all these doubts and hesitations
ho replied:
*? :n ,i,?
" Urcnucincn, II VUligrc&a \?jii nui nuupi.
army, before teu moons have set, New England
will adopt it, and she will undertake the struggle
alone?yes, with a strong arm, a clear conscience,
she will front the foe single-handed."
-This had the desired effect. They saw New
England was neither playing nor to be played
with. They agreed to appoint a day. A day
was fixed. It came. Mr. Adams went ill, took
the lloor, urged the measure, and after some dobate
it passed.
The next tiling was to get a commander for
this army, with supplies, etc. All looked to Mr.
Adams on the occasion, and lie was ready, lie
took the floor and, went into a delineation of the
character of Gen. Ward, bestowing upon him
the encomiums which then belonged to 1:0 011c
else. At the end of the eulogy, lie said?" Hut
tliis is not the man I have chosen." Ho then
went into the character of a commander-in-chief,
such as was required by the peculiar situation of
the colonists at this juncture. And after he had
presented the qualifications in his strongest language
and given reasons for the nomination he
was about to make, be said :
" Gentlemen,JI know these qualifications are
high, but we all know they are needful in this
chief. Hoes any one say they are not to be
/-.l.f.iimxl in this ronntrv ? In ronlv. I have to
say they arc: they reside in one of our own
body, and he is the person whom I now nominate,
Ocorgc Washington of Virginia,"
Washington, who sat on Mr. Adam's right
hand, was looking him intently in tho face to
watch tho name he was about to announce, and
not expecting it would be his, sprang from Ins
seat the minute he heard it, ana rusnea into an j
adjoining room. Mr. Adams had told his broth* j
er Samuel to ask for an adjournment as soon as
trie nomination Was made, in order to give the
members time to deliberate, and the result is before
the world. ' s
A Thrilling Scene.
BY CHAS. "RAND.
The following narrative?a true one?describes
a scene that actually took place not many
years since, in a country town in the State of
Maine:
One evening in the month of December, 18-14,
a number of townsmen had assembled in the
store of a Mr. Thomas Putnam, to talk over 'matters
and things'?smoke?drink?and, in short,
to do anything to 'kill time.'
Three hours had thus passed away. They
had laughed,and talked, and drank, and chatted,
and had a good time, generally, so that about
the usual hours of shutting up shop, each of the
party felt particularly first, rate.
'Conic,' said Charles Hatch?one of the .company?'let's
all liquor, and then have a game of
high, low, Jack!
'So I say,' exclaimed another, 'who's got the
r?nnl? V
'Fetch on your keerds,'"drawled out a third,
his eves half closed through the effects of the liquor
he had drank.
After drinking all round, an old pine table
was drawn up before the fireplace, where burned
brightly a large fire of hemlock logs, \vhich
wbuld snap and crackle?throwing large live
avals out upon the hearth.
All drew round the table, seating themselves
011 whatever came handiest. Four of them had
rolled up to the table some kegs, which, from
their weight, were supposed to contain nails.
'Now,' said Hatch, 'how shall we play, every
one for himself J'
'No?have partners,' growled one man.
'I say every one for himself,' exclaimed another.'
'No, hang'd if I'll play so,' shouted the former,
bringing his fist down upon the table, knocking
one candle out of the stick, and another upon
thefloor.
'Come, come,' said Hatch, 'no quarreling?all
who say for having partners, stand up.'
Three arose. .
'Now all who say each one for himself, stand
up.'
The remaining fouf immediately got up.
'Yyu see, Barclay,' said Hatch, 'the majority
are against you. Come, will you play ?'
'Wall no F winf trt lin rttv nnnrssitfl
side, I'll pin}-,' answered Barclay, somewhat cooled
down.
Mr. Putnam was not in the store that evening/and
the clerks, who were busy behind the
counter, had taken very little notice of the proceedings.
About half past ten, Mr. Pntnum
thought he would step over to his store and see
that every thing was safe. As he went in he
walked up towards the fire.
When within a few steps of where the men
were sitting* lift started back in horror.
Before him sat seven men, half crazy with
drink and the excitement of playing cards.?
There they were, within a few feet of the fire just
described?and four of thein seated cm kegs of
powder!
Barclay, who was a very heavy man, had
pressed in the head of the keg on which he sat,
bursting the top hoop and pressing the powder
out through the chinks. By the continued motion
of their feet the powder had become spread
about the floor, and now covered a space of two
feet all around them.
Mr. Putnam's first movement was towards the
door, but, recovering himself, he walked up towards
the fire. Should either of them attempt
to rise?lie thought?and scatter a frew grains
a little further into the fireplace where lay a
quantity of live coals !
At this moment Hatch looked up, and. seeing
Mr. Putnam with his face deadly pale, gazing
into the fire, exclaimed?
'Why, Putnam, what ails yon,' and at the
same time made a mfion to rise.
Tor hern's sake, gentlemen, do not rise,'
said Mr. Putnam. Tour of you sit on kegs of
powder, it is scattered all around you?one
movement might send you all to eternity.?
There arc two buckets of water behind the bar.
But, keep your scats for one minute, and you
anfi/4 onrt villi <irn ilnnrt lilf>n !'
In an instant every man was perfectly sober- !
ed, not a limb moved?each seemed paralyzed.
In loss time than we have taken to describe
this thrilling scene, Mr. Putnam had poured the
water and comploteh' saturated the powder on
the floor, and extinguished the fire, so that an
explosion was impossible. Then, and not till
then, was there a word spoken !
Ahsexce of Mind.?The foreman of a Grand
Jury in Missouri, after administering the oath to
a beautiful woman, instead of handing the 13ible,
presented bis face and said, "Now kiss the book,
madam!" lie didn't discover his mistake until
the whole jury burst into a roar of laughter.
??.
Anecdote of Shekidax.?The celebrated
Sheridan was one day much annoyed by a fellow-member
in the House of Commons, who
kept crying out every few minutes,Hear
hear!" During the debate lie took occasion
to describe a political cotemporary that wished
to {day the rogue, hut had only sense enough
to act the fool. "Where," exclamed he, with
great emphasis, "where shall wo find a more
foolish knave or more knavish fool than this?"
"Hear ! hear!" was shouted by the troublesome
member. Sheridan turned round, and thanking
him for his prompt reply sat down amid
a general roar of laughter.
Legal Wit.?Counsellor Lamb, an old
man when Lord Erksitio was at the height of
his reputation, was a man of timid manners
and nervous temperament; ana usually prefaced
his pica with an apology to that effect
On one occasion, when opposed to Erskino,
he happened to remark that he felt himself
growing more and more timid as he grew older.
"No wonder," replied the witty, but relentless
barrister, "every one knows that the
older a Lamb grows the more sheepish he becomes."
Faith is the foundation of justice, and justice
the stay of a State.
HIE DIIIEK.?41m J3tui\s raijic ucnnuii; u<
the poor, the solace of the sick, and the support 9|
of the dying-, and-while,other books May amuse 9
and instruct in a. leisiiifi" hour,,it is th*'peV*i9
culinr triumph of thtffbook ro create fight in j
the midst of darkness, to alleviate the sorrow jfl
which admits of tio other ajlevjatioh', Ih direct 9
a beam of hope to the hejp t which i;pr other .9
topie of consolation can-reach;. while goii^ 9
despair and death vanish at.the touch ol its bo-idjjH
ly inspiration. There is sojnethiug in the spir-yflj
it and dictation of the HibJe, which ^ found 9|
peculiarly adapted to-arrest the attention of 9
the plainest and'most' uncultivated minds.' The' 9
simple structure of its. sentiments, combine<fr^H
with the lofty Spirit of poetry?its familiar aU 1H
fusions to the seer\csy>f nature and the fra^sao- 9
tichs of common'fife?tfig delightful intermix- 9
ture of narration-with tflF doctrinal and per- J9
ceptfva parts?and the profusion of mii-acfiloosr
facts; which convert if into" a sort of enShan- 9fl
ted ground?its constant advertence of the Deity,
whose perfections it renderk almost visible 9|
?unite it bestowing upon it an interest which1 r^H
attaches to no other performance, and whieb, 1 I
after assiduous and repeated pefusah; invest it y 9
with much of the charm of novelty: like tfiOH
orb of day, at which we are wont to ga?e whW
unabated astonishment from' .mfaiYcy' to old
age. What other book besides the Bible cobld *,
be heard in public assemblies; fro in year^to year
with attention that never tries and an' interest,
that never cloys? With few exceptions,let a
portion of the'sr.ored volume, be recited iri^a; i
mixed multifude, and though it has been heard-. o
a thousand tinic9, a universal stillness ensues; ;
every eye is fixed, and every'ear is awake fltfdf ?ttentive.
Select, if you can. at^'other'coi^rjTO- J
sition, and let it be rendered equally familiar tch *
the mind, and see wbetbei h will produce thTs
effect. *,. ;r j
^ _ * . . - -c. ?
What rs Happiness??Let a foaff'h&ti hH 1
the world can give jrim,; lie is still m'sCFftble if* .
he has a grovelling,'imderoted rtjiitd. htffi '
have his garden, bis fields"; hisvwoods, hlg.laVns; /
for grandeur, plenty; olrftraertt; 'and gr'atftlfa- :
tion ;* while at the same time God is ndt in oH
his thoughts, and let another Have noftbei^ficlti ;
nor gardeir, let him only^lobk at nature with '
an enlightened inind?a mirid tvhtch sito
and ad&re the Creator ;ilh ail his wdii&?catt i
consider them as demonstrations of brs power,
his wisdom, his goodness and truth ; this man
is greater'as well as happier in hir povOrtr#. :
than the other in his 'riches?the 'dittifnfe .9
higher than a beast?the other tfRtlfe lower
than an angel.
6 .
? _ _ ... i
Irur l hilosophy.?l saw pale moaner ?
stand bending over the tomb, and" hie jefl 9
fast and often. As he raised his humtd^y.fci; *
to heaven, he cried: m
" My brother ! oh, mv brother f' -9
A sage passed that way, and Said?_. 1
" For whom dost thou mourn?'' ' ?.J
" One," replied he, " whom I did POt Suffi- . 9
ciently love while living; but for Whose I
timable worth I now feel." 1
" What wouldst thou do if he were restored . -9
to thee?"
The mourner replied? " that he would never
ofFend him hy an unkind word,- but he woftld
take every occasion to show" his friendship,* if he
could but come back to his fond embrace." !
" Then waste no time in Cscless grief," said
the sage; "but if thou hast friends, go and :
cherish the living, remembering that ihey will
one day be dead also."
. * ? {
Tiik Pkkciocs Peart,.?Religion in & fe- 'l
male secures all Iter interests. It graces^her -j
character, promotes her peace, endears her
friendship, secures esteem, and a dignity .and "
worth indescribable to all her deeds. How - J
pleasant, when the absent husband -dan ibink
of home, and reflect that angels wateh the )
place? Wlienjd>f,ut"to leave her a widow,,>,.i
how consoling if her character is 9uch, thafsbe '
can lean on the widow's God and put her chil
dren under the guardianship of Him, ;wbo is 'j
the father to the fatherless. Thetvhe qui,ia<the
world calm and happy, supported by the hope '
that he shall meet them all in heaven**
T -\f ir .1 a
i iib iUbuiiA.Mu.?ii iucm: is any iiiuu in so- a
cioty upon whom w.e look with esteem and ad- m
miration it is the honest and industrious Mechanic,
who by his unaided exertion has established
for himself a respectable situation in
society ; who, cotnineocing iu poverty by his 5
skill and assiduity surmounts every obstacle,
overcomes every prejudice and succeeds in establishing
liitnself a reputation, whose value is
enhanced for those that come after him,?such
a man we prize as the noblest wo k of which
human nature is capable, the highest production
she can boast. And let it ever bo borne
in mind, by the young mechanic just entering
into the stage of active life, let it ever live at
the foundation, and be the moving spring of
all lu's efforts, that this situation he must strivo
to attain. It can be obtained by all. Unti- j
ring industry and a virtuous ambition never
fail of their reward. They never yet were ;
exerted in vain, and never will be, while honesty
and justice are loft in the human heart.
It was well remarked by an eloquout writer,
that the mechanic who had no inheritance but li
health?no riches but industry, and no ambi- ?
tion but virtue, is the solo king among men,
the sole man among kings.
.
t Af'Id v I I1AI HAM ut i) ?A. Vf
uuM3 i?iruLi.u.i.? u'juiswounpnrxe, 53J? ^
Victor Hugo, "is a man or middle height, cold ^
pale slow in his movements, having the air of
a person not quite awake. He has published %
as we mentioned before, a tolerable treatise
on artillery, and is brought to Iks acquainted \
with the mancenvingof cannon, lie is a good -jjj
horseman. He spehks drawlingly, vvrtb a &er* jl
man accent. His histrionic power was showto
at the Englington tournament. He has a iWlt
moustache, covering his smile, like that of the *
Duke p'Aktois, and a dull eye, like that of *
Charles IX." \
...
Appropriate.?Marmontel, a French author,
was once applied to for an inscription to bo I
placed over the door of a gambling house in l'ae- ?
is. lie wrote the following:
' To tlxis den, there arc three doors,
Hope. Infamy, and Death !
We enter by tho first, and mcko
Ouroxit by the other two.'"
I