The Sumter banner. (Sumterville, S.C.) 1846-1855, February 26, 1851, Image 1
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DEVOTED TO SOTHERN RIGITS, DEMOCRACY, NEWS, LITERATURE SCIENCE AND TIE A1TS
L I T E R A J-R W i t ! . J. F R A NC I S , P r o p r i e t o r . I I W O t t V E8 ' .
VOL. V. SUIMTERIVILLE, S. C. VE BR JA1IY 26, 1~1 12
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The heart of John MTiddleton.
From Dickena's Household Word,.
I was born at Sawley, where the
ahadow of Pendle Hill falls at sun
rse. I suppose Sawley sprang up
into a village in the time of the monks.
who had an abbey there. Many of
the cottages are strange old places;
others amain are built of the abbey
flie~ btieiingq~uane'hai f rum
may see many a quaint bit of carvig"
worked into the walls. or forming the
Jintels of the doors. Then e is a row
of houses, built still more recently,
where one Mr. Peel came to live
there for the sake of the wator-power,
and gave the place a fillip into some.
S lik fo; though a different kind
ae it from the gran4
elks had when tb monka
e ,a o aj
ve; and even at night. 1
when work was done, we hardly
knew how to walk slowly, we had
been so bustled all day long. I can't
recollect the time when I did not go
to the factory. My father used to i
drag me there when I was quite a
-ittle fellow, in order to wind reels for i
him. I never remember my mother.
I should have been a better man than i
I have been, if I had only had a i
.potion of the sound of her voice, or
the look of her face.
M ther and I lodged in the i
hoe V a man, who also worked in
the factory. We were sadly throng- i
ed in Sawley, so many people came
from different parts of the country <
to earn a livelihood at the new work;
and it was some time before the row
of cottagee I have spoken of could be I
built. While they were building my
father was turned out of his lodgings
for drinking and being disorderly, t
and he and I slept in the brick-kiln;
that is to say, when we did sleep o' t
nights; but, often and often, we went
poaching; and many a hare andt
pheasant have I rolled up in clay,i
andl roasted in the embers of thet
kiln. Tihen, as followed to reason, Ie
was drowsy next day, over my wor-k;t
but father had no morecy on me for I
sleeping, for all he knew the cause of<
it, but kicked ma where I lay, a liea-t
Yy lump on the factory-floor, andc
cursed and swore at me till I got up I
f'or very fear, and to mv winding i
again. B~ut when his back was turn- t
edI p aid him off with heavier curesr
thn he had given me, and longed to s
he a man that I might be revenged t
on him. The words I than spoke I e
*would not now dare to repeat; and I
worse thtan hating words, a hanting a
heart wont with thoem. I forgot the r
time when I did not know how to i
hate. When I first came to read a
and learnt about Ishmael, I thought c
I muet be of his doomed race, for my]
hand was against every man, arid c
evory man's against me. But I was
seventeen or more before I cared for 1
my book enough to learn to read.
After the row of works was finished,
father took ono, and sot up for himself, a
In lotting lodgings. I can't say much a
for the furnishing; but ther-a was i
plenty of straw, and we kept up good
firos; anid thioro is a sot of peoplea whoa
value warmth above everything.
Th'o worst lot about the pIawo led ged
*withj us. We used to havo a supper
Ia the mid-dle of' the ni ght; there was
jama opiongh, or if there was not <
goneil, thoere was poultry to be hadu f'or II
to stealing. By day wo nll made a
how~i of working In the fatctory. B3y
ilglit We l'unstel I y 'ir ak,
Now this web of my life was black
enough and coarse enough; but by
and by, a little golden filmy thread
began to be woven in; the dawn of
God's mercy was at hand.
One blowy October morning, as I
sauntered lazily along to the mill, I
came to the little wooden bridge over
a brook that falls into the Bribble.
On the plank there stood a child,
balancing the pitcher on her head,
with which she had been to fetch
water. She was so light on her feet
that, had it not been for the weight of
the pitcher, I almost believe the wind
would have taken her up, and wafted
her away as it carries off a blow-ball
in seed- time, her blue cotton dross was
blown before her, as if she were
spreading her wings for a flight; she
turned her face round, as if to ask me
for something, but when she saw who
it was she hesitated, for I had a bad
name in the village and I doubt not
she had been warned against me.
But her heart was too innocent to be
distrustful; as she said to me timidly.
"Please, John Middleton, will you
carry me this heavy jug just over
the bridge?"
It was the very first time I had ever
been spoken to gently. I was ordered
here and there by my father and his
rough companions; I was abused and
cursed by them if I failed in doing
what they wished; if I succeeded,
there came no expression of thanks or
net 49'tdir soI pjWofrtned of facts
gentle words of request or entreaty
were afore time unknown to me, and
now their tones fell on my ear soft
and sweet as a distant peal of bells.
L wished that I knew how to speak
properly in reply; but though we were
)f the same standing as regarded
vorldly circumstances, there was
om. mighty difference between us,
n.. eaty. 'There t as nothing tr me
)ut take up the pitcher in a kind of
ruff. shy silence, and carry it over
he bridge as she had asked me.
When I gave it her back again, she
banked me and tripped away, leaving
no, word-less, gazing at her like an
Lwkward lout as I was. I knew
veil enough who she was.-She was
;randchild to Eleanor Hadfield, an
ged woman, who was reputed as a
vitch by my father and his set, for no
ether reason, that I can make out,
han her scorn, dignity, and fearless
tess of rancor. It was true we often
net her in the gray dawn of the
corning when we returned from
oaching, and my father used to
urse her, under his breath, for a
witch, Such as were burnt, long ago,
in Pendle Iill top; but I had heard
hat Eleanor was a skilful sick nurse,
md ever ready to give to those who
vere ill; and 1 believe that she had
icon sitting up through the night
;the night that we had been spending
mnder the wild heavens, in deeds as
rild,) with those who were appointed
o die. Nolly was her orphan grand.
laughter; her little hand maiden: her
reasuro; her one ewe lamb. Many
ndi many a dlay have I watched b'y
he brook-side, hoping that some
happy gust of wind, coming with
ipportunie bluster dlown the hollowv of
lie dale, might make me necessary
nee more to her. I longed to hear
er speak to me again. I said the
rords she had used to myself, trying
o catch her tone; but the chance
ever came again, I do not know that
lie ever know how I avatchecd for her
here. I found out that she wen to
chool, and nothing would serve me
ut that Imlust go too. My fat her
coffedl at me; Idid not cure. ikncw
ought of what reading was, nor that
was likely that I shoul he laughed
t; I, a great hulking lad of seventeen
r upward, for going to learn my A,
3, 0, in the midst of a crowd of little
noB. It stood just this way in my
rnind. Nelly was at school; it was the
test place for seeing her, and heoarinug
ecr voioe again. Thelirefore I woul
o too, My father talked, and swore,
mnd threatened, but Istood to it. lie
aid Ishould leave school, weary of'
tin a month. 1 swore a deeperm oath
hian 1 liko to romnomber, that .1 would
tay a year, ard come out a writ. ir.
ly fat1her hiated the nuotion of folks
earninmg to road, and said it took all
lie sp irit out of thorm; besides, ho
houghit ie h ad a righit to overy penny'
if iuy wae and~t though, wvheni
to was in good humor, ho rmiight hiavo I
pivoun me many a jug of alo, lhe
rud gpd my two-pouco a week forI
h..oolina.--Heovor. to arehnal 11
went. It was a different place to
what Iliad thought it before I went
inside. The girls sat one side and
the boys on the other; so I was not
near Nclly. She too was in the first
class; I was put with the little
toddling things that could hardly run
alone. The master sat in the middle,
and kept pretty strict watch over us.
But I could see Nelly, and hear her
read her chapter;.and even when it
was one with a long list of hard
names, such as the master was very
fond of giving her, to show how well
she could hit them off without
spelling, I thought I had never heard
a prettier music. Now and then she
read other things. I did not know
what they were, true or false; but I
listened because she read; and, by
and by, I began to wonder, I
even spoke to her to ask her (as
we were coming out of school) who
was the Father of whom she had been
reading, for when she said the words
"Our Father," her voice dropped
into a soft, holy kind of low sound,
which struck me more than any loud
reading, it seemed so loving and
tender. When I asked her this, she
looked at me with her great blue
wondering eyes, at first shocked; and
then, as it werc, melted down into
pity and sorrow, she said in the same
way, below her breath, in which she
read the words "Our Father,"
"Don't you know? It is God."
"'God?"
' 'es-the God that Grandmother
"Tell me what she says, will you?
So we sat down on the hedge-bank,
she a little above me, while I looked
up in her face, and she told me all
the holy texts her grandmother had
taught Ier, as explaining all that
could be explained of the Almighty.
I listened in silene. or ideed
knowledge; she was too young for'
much more; but we, in Lancashire,
speak a rough kind of Bible language,
and the text seemed very clear to me.
I rose up, dazed and overpowered. I
was going away in silence, when I
bethought me of my manners, and
turned back, and said, "Thank you,"
for the first time I ever remember
saving it in my life. That was a
great day fur me, in more ways than
one.
I was always one who could keep
very s:endy to an object when once
I had set it before me. My object
was to kn':w Nelly. I was consci
aus of nothing more. But it made
no regardle'ss of all things. The
master might scold, the little ones
might laugh; I bore it without giving
t a second thought. 1 kept to my
year, and came out a reader and writ.
er; more, however, to stand well in
Nelly's good opinion, than because of
my oath. A bout this time, my father
:ommitted some cruel deed, and had
to fly the country. I was glad he
went; for I had never loved or cared
for him. and wanted to shake myself
,lear of his set, lint it was no easy
mat tei. lionest folk stood aloof; oln
iy bad men held out their arms to me
with a welcomte. Even Nelly seem
ed to have a mixture of fear now with
ier kind ways toward me. I was the
son of Middletonz, whlo, if he were
anughzt, woul be hung at Lancas
er Ca~stle. I thought she looked at
ne sometimzes with a sort of sorrow
uil hzorror. Others were not for
eazing enzough to keep their expres.
ion of feeling conflined to looks. The
on of the overlooke-r at the mill nev.
r ensed twitting me with my fath
~r's crime(; lie now brought up his
ic'achiing against him, though I know
b'ery well how manzy a good supper
ze himself had miado on game which
mnd been given lhin to make him and
iis father wink at lato hours ini the
morning. And how wero such us my
athmer to como hzonesdly by game?
Thzis hlad, Dick Jackson, was the
>aine of my life. li was a year oi
woh oler t han [ was, an d hadl inuch
oiwer < ver tho meon wvho worked at
be m ~ill.? as lie could report to his fazith
rz what ho chiose. I coul not always
ol ofi peae whei n ho " 'threnpod'"
no withi imy father's sins, bzut gave it
fliek somtizmes~ ini a storm of passin,
It did meo no goodl; only throw mo
artheor ft om the canplanly of botter
non, whlo looked aghast arnd shooked
mt thu oaths I pouired out----blar'le
mons words learnt in my chIldhood ,
wvhich 1 could not forget now that I
would fin havQ puritiod myself of
thiem ; while all the time Dick Jackson
toodhv.' whh a incmi m imle t~at
gence; and when I had ended, breath
less and weary with spent passion,
he would turn to those hose respect
I longed to earn, and asked if.I were
not a worthy son of my father, and
likely to tread in his steps. But this
smiling indifference of his to my mis
erable vehemence ws8i ot all, though
it was the worst part of his con
duct, for it made the rankling hatred
grow up in my heart, and overabadow
it like the g-eat gourd-tree of the
prophet Jonah. Butihis was a mer
ciful shade, keeping out the burning
sun; mine blighted wtat it fell upon.
What Dick Jackso ' did -besides,
was this, His father Ivas a skilful over
looker, and a good man; Mr..Poel val
ued him so much, that he was kept on,
although hie health Was, failing; and
when he was unaible thiiogh illness,
to come to the mill,!he deputed his
son to watch o ce andrpport-the men.
It was too much poger, forone so
young. I speak it calbly tnow. What
ever Dick Jackson slpame, he bad
strong temptations llent he was
young, which will be kilowed for here
after. But at ti e time-of which I am
telling, my hate raged like a fire. I
believed that he .as the one sole ob
stacle to my being rhceivpd as fit to
mix with good and lionest -men. I
was sick of crime and sorder, and
would fain base ovr to a
different kind of, J d have
been industrious; en.st, and
right-spoken, =idea -of
higher virtue the. I very turn
Dick Jackson met n b$&sneers.
I have walked thei' in
the old abbey- -> I
could out-him :
in spite of hii
ever prayed
lent stars, k
walls t
ing $o
had bR ~ prayed earnest
ly, God wo ve me what I asked
for, and I lodk upon it as a kind of
chance for the fulfilment of my wish
es. If earnestness would have won
the boon for me, never were wicked
words so earnestly spoken. And oh,
later on, my prayer was heard, and
my wish granted! All the time I
saw little of Nelly. Her grandmoth
er was failing, and she had much to
do in doors. Besides, I believe I
had read her looks aright, when I took
them to speak of aversion; and I
planned to hide myself from her
sight, as it were, until I could stand
upright before men, with fea:rless
eyes, dreading no face of accusation.
It was possible to acquire a good cha
racter; I would do it--I did it; but
no one brought up among respecta
ble, untempted people can tell the
unspeakable hardness of the task. In
the evening I would not go forth
among the village throng; for the ac
quaintances that claimed me were my
father's old associates, & those who
would have shunned me & kept aloof,
were the steady & orderly. So I staid
iu doors, and practiced myself in read
iYowill say I should have found
eairto earn a good character
away from Sawley, at some place
where neither I nor my father was
knowr.. So I should; but it would
not have been the same thing to my
mind. Beside, representing all good
meni, all goodness to me, in Sawley
Nelly lived. In her sight I would
work out my life, and fight my way
upward to men's respect. Two v'ear s
passedl on. Every day I strove
fiercoly; every dlay my stru glos wvere
made fruitless by the son ot the over
looker; and I seemed but where I
was; but where I must ever be es
toomed b~y all who knew me, but as
die son of the criminal; wild, reck
less, ripe for crime mnyself. Where
was the use or my reading and writ
ring? These acquirements were dis
regarded and scouted by those among
whom I was thrust banck to take my
p~ortioni. I could have read any chap
ter in the Bible now; and Nelly seem
ed as though she would never know
it. I was dIriven ini upon my hooks;
aind few enough of them I had. The
pedlars brought them round in their
acks, and 1 bought what I could. I
ind die "'Seven Champions,'' and the
"Pilgrim's Progress;" amnd both scoem
dto me equally woudorf~ul, and1(
equally founded on fact. I got Iy'
ron's ''Narrative,'' and "Miilton''s
Paradise Lost;" but I lacked the
knowledge which would give a clue to
all. Still they afforded moe pleasure,
boenuso they took me out of myself,
rind made me unconscious (for the
timo at least,) of' my ono groat posi
tion of hatred against Dick Jackson.
When Nelly was about seventeen
her grandmother died. I stood aloof
in the churchyard, behind the great
yew tree, and watched the funeral. It
was the first religious service that
ever I heard; and, to my shame as I
thought, it affected me to tears. The
words seemed so peaceful and holh
that I longed to go to church, but
I durst not, because I had never
been. 'The parish church was at
Bolton, far enough away to serve as
an excuse for all who did not care to
go. I heard Nelly's sobs filling
up every pause in the clergyman's
voice; and every sob of hers went to
my heart. She passed me on her
way out of the churchyard; she was
so near I might have touched her;
but her head was hanging down, and
I durst not speak to her. Then the
question arose, what was to become
of her? She must earn her living;
was it to be as a farm servant, or by
working at the mill ? I knew en
ough of both kinds of life to make
me tremble for her. My wages were
such as to enable me to marry, if I
chose; and I never thought of woman
for my wife, but Nelly. Still I
would not have married her now, if
I could; for, as yet, I had not risen
up to the character which I determ.
ined it was fit that Nelly's husband
should have. When I was rich in
good report, I would come forwards,
and take my chance; but until then,
I would hold my peace. I had faith
in the power of my long-continued
dogged breasting of opinion. Soon
or later, it should triumph, & I be re
coived among the ranks of good men.
umeauwbile, what was to become
I. koasdu rnyWA
one ofthonost-. s
place; she looked at me suspiciously.
I kept down my temper, and told her
I would never come near-the place;
that I would keep away from that
end of the village; and that the girl
for whom I made the inquiry should
never know but what the parish paid
for her keep. It would not do; she
suspected me; but Iknow I had pow
er over myself to have kept to my
word; and besides, I would not for
worlds hp -"' ul Nelly put under any
obligatic which should speck
the pur l. 'ove, or diin it by a
mixture of gr. ..,.c--the love that
Tcraved to earn, not for my money,
not for my kindness, but for myself.
I heard that Nelly had met with a
place in Bolland; and I could see no
reason why I might nt speak to her
once before she left our neighborhood.
I meant it to be a quiet fricndly tell.
ing her of my sympathy in her sor.
rcw. I felt Icould command myself.
So, on the Sunday before she was to
leave Sawley, I waited near the wood
path, by which I knew that she would
return from afternoon church. 'The
birds madec such a melodious whrble
such a busy sound among the leaves,
that I did not hear approaching foot
mteps, till they were close at hand;
ad there were sounds of two personis
voices. Tfho wood was near that part
of Sawvley where Nelty was staving
with friends; the path through it led
to their house, and their's only, so I
knew it must be she, for Ilbad watch.
ed her setting out to church alone.
But who was the other ?
The blood went to my heart and
heard, as if I were shot, when I saw
that it was Dick Jackson. Was this
the end of it all ? In the steps of
sin which my father had trnde, I
v'ould rush to my dleath and my
loom. Eveni where I stood I longed
~or a weapen to slay him. hlow
ared lie come near my Nelly F She
no-I thought her fauithless, and
'orgot how little I hiad ever been in
>utwardl action; how few words, and
hose how uncouth, I had ever spoken
:o her; andl I ha ted her as a traitress.
1heae feelings passedl through me be.
o)ro I could sco, my eyes and head
ivere so dlizzy and lhind. When I
ooked I sa w D)ickc Jacketn hiig
ecr hand, andl speaking quick and
ow, nud thick, as a man spenks in
rent vehemuence. She seemed white
ui' dismiayed; but all at onice, at
somie word of his, (and what it w~as
aho never would tell me,) she looked
ts though she de4flied a fiend, wrench
ed herself out of his prasp. lie
unaught hol of her again, anti begani
once more the thick whisper that I
loathed. 1'could hear it no longer,
nor did I see wh y .1 should, Jstnn.
ped out from behind the tree where
I had been lying. When sl' saw
me she lost her look of one strung up
to desperation, and came and clung
to me; and Ifclt like a giant in
strength and might. 1 held her with
one arm, but I did not take my eyes
off him; I felt as if they blazed down
into his soul, and searched him up
He never spoke, but tried to look as
though he defied me; at last his eves
fell bofore mine. I dared not speak;
for the old horrid oaths thronged up
to my mouth : and dreaded giving
them way, and terrifying my. poor
trembling Nelly.
At last he made to go past me; I
drew her out of the pathway. By in
stinct she wrapped her garments round
her, as it to avoid his accidental touch;
and he was stung by this, I believe- .
to the mad, miserable revenge he -took.
As my back turned to him, in an en.
deavor to speak some words to Nelly,
that might soothe her into calmness,
she, who was looking after him, like
one fascinated with terror, saw him take
a sharp shaley stone, and aim it at me.
Poor darling! she clung round me as a
shield, making her sweet body into a
defense for mine. It hit her, and she
spoke no word, kept hack her cry of
pain, hut fell at my feet in a swoon. lie,
the coward, ran off as soon as he saw
what he had done. I was with Nelly
alone in the green gloom of the wood.
The quivering and leaf-tinted light
made her look as ifshe were dead. I car
ried her, not knowing if I bore a corpse
or not, to her friend's house. I did not
stay to explain, but ran madly for the
doctor. *
Well! I cannot hear to recur to that
agaiu. Five weeks I lived in the agony
of suspense, from which my only relief
war it laying savage plans for revenge.
if h lisfed hirn before, hat. thiqJ ...yp
ifit~~caw edgesa ii: ltv
vetry wat iti; h ! Ite Rtc i,'
heart; Nelly grew better; as well as n
was ever to grow. The bright color.hal
left her cheek; the mouth quivered with
repsessed pain; the eyes were dim with
tears that agony had forced into them;
and I loved her a thousand times better
and more than when she was bright and
blooming! What was best of all, I, be
gan to perceive that she cared for me.
I know her grandmother's friends warn.
ed her against me, and told her I came
of a bad stock; but she had passed the
point where remonstance from hystand.
ers can take efTect; she loved me as I was
a strange mixture of bad and good, all
unworthy of her. We spoke together
now as those do whoso lives are bound
up in each other. I told her I would
marry her as soon as she had reoover
ed her health. Hor friends shook their
heads, but they saw she would be unfit
for farm.service or heavy work, and
they pI hops thought, as many a one
dot's, that a had husband was better thtan
none at all. Any how, we were marri.
ed; and I learned to bless God for my
happiness, so far beyond my deserts. I
kept her like a lady. I was a skillful
workaman, andr earned good wattes; end
every wanit she laud I tried to grattify.
hler wvishes weare few and simnpleLenoug'h,
poor Nelly! lfthey habeen ever so
fanci fu, I shaould hav'e hiad mny reward
in the new f,-elinig ofl the haolina'ss of
home. She could lead me as a little
child, wvith the charm of her gentle
voice and haer ev'er kitnds. She would
plead~ for all when I was full of aunger
atnd passion; onaly Dick Jackson's namne
passed never b't ween rour lips during
all t hat timte. In th e evening she lay
back int her heehive chntr, andt read
to me. I think I see lher now, nale arid
wenak, wieh her sweet, youing face,
lighted by he'r holy, enroast ey-vs, tell.
iag mte of' the Favior's life atnd de'ath,
till they were filled with iears. I long.
ed to haivn beeni tnero, to have aaventged
himr oni the wicked Jews. I liked Pt,
tear thIe best ofl aill thle dlisci ples. But 1
got the Blible myselfI, ad renal the nct of
Go's vengeanc~e in the Oh!I Testament,
with a kind of triumnphant faith that,
sooner or later, lie woul take my cautse
in hanid, anid revenge me on tmi'te one
In a y'ear or so, Nelly had a hahy-.a
little girl, withi eyes just hako lhers, thant
look rd withi a grtave openness right into
y'ours. N elly recovered bait slowvly.
I t was juast before winteg' the o otton
orop had failed, and maIster htad to turn,
otl manay hanitds. I thought I wvas aure
of beinag kept on, for I had earned n
steady chanracter, anid didl my work wveil;
but one ngutin it wvats permitted that
Dick Jacekson should alo me wvrong. He
intldued his letther to dlismniss ma omorig
thet first in my brnnchl of the business;
anal there was I, just beohre winter saut
ian, wit h a wif, andta now' hore child, anal
a small eanough store of monny to keep
body nnd s'ul togethor tIll I could e
to wnork again. . All my,. atving hli
gone by Christmas Eve,. and,~ w t
Ina the hiouse faodioseder~u i'erow s
fystia1, T pi inceshd 'A
worn; the . ahy crie4 f9a larer A
ply of milk than itsriatarvingprm,
er could give It. Myiight find !t
not lorgot its. Ctaningj and "Iwent ont
once more to nty 'poaching. I knee
where the gang iet, nyd I know i'
n wellgome trhck 1.si puad. J)avO-.a far
worrnr gjd morer',w.ty .W*tlcome absp
good, men 11n41 g.yee ne, when I.rd
to enter their runki, QO the road to he
mee:ing-place I fell in with an old mab
-one w'ho hat been a companion te0my
futher in his early days;
"-What; ladd!" saidi ie, "art thou tui.
ing uuck to the old 'trade?' It's the bet
ter busiesa, now that cotton hag failed.?
"Ay," said T, "Cctton is atrvingAmn.
outrieshtt. A man mny henr a'deal ble~..
self, but lid'o 'aight'bnd and sinful Ia
save his wifr and child.
."Nay, lad,'t said he, "poaching Is not
sinful; it goes againtoman's laws, but
not against God's."
I was too weak toargue or talk much,
I had not tasted. f od for two days. Opt
I murmgred, 'At any rate,: Itruteddj
have been clear of itsfdt the rest :of My
rlays, It led my father:wronig at first.
I have tried and I h:,e striven; Now
[-give all up. - Right:i 4Frongmjall be
the same to me. 'Saneie foreodo4
rd; and so anm I." An as -siok.
some notion of the fiturity thatjvotI4
separate Nelly, the pure an4.holy, ra
:ne, the rcekleas..and desperato n ,'
came over me.. with - an irrepressible
burst of anguish. Just -then the belha
of Bohon-in-Bolipnd ictruck up a
peal, which aie-oye Vihe woods, M " o, '
the morning. sho.ain for rjoy-4.
seemed so.cigar a IA.lant. t i.rs
Christma Dayand I t ike an outewe
fro, the gladness. and tho salvatins.
Old-Jonah spoke" ouit -':,
b e tt o r e I" f o r '4 4 0
losnire fdt -'r rw
ever, of taking' bte t ;
paupers, they, seek, o take care o
our.negroos; and in doing so, they
meddle with-'matters which do not
concern tberm'a4 alL' They area p'.
fectly.nervousat, i1,dea of cope't
ling human beings to labor without
recompence, whilo'if they would gen.
sult their ;taitn li'th1 they would
ind tliat'in many of -4ir States te
force poor white-men into a state of
Slavery whioheis:qui?e an odious as
black slavery. Asir an instance it
point, we make 'nexfract fre doa'
articlein the Febriany No; o g
>cratic Review, ,widh containusp.
ply to a letter of the editor addressed
to an eminent' oitze of Connecticut,
asking inforInatbh as to the law
relation to "the bidding off of "'-'
yors.t' The following is the repl:
"It is the custom in many towns
Connecticut, to gettijhe paupezahs
auction every year, and knock 'thein
ff to the lowest bidder-.~that.'is, to
:ho man who will- take thetu for the
year, at the lowest piide. This ~~
the case to mflknowled'ge in bev~~
sountries. I naealways undersoo
it to be a general thing in Cornneoti
aut When we *we in HI. they weie
sold to the nuimb g sixtg for ii
year to ourinext. dooi neighbor. r~
15 dollars a'headseand'he got all the
work out of them that lie could thogi!t
most of thorm w'ei-infirm and ret a
ble to donm h'A" 'rI f hoed his cora
irnd sawed his wood, and weeded his
garden; and being an deteni
armany, they assisted ins dressit.j
ish, and Pfdid;:e hores'. geo ily
l'hey are made to work rall tg
'nade t9"work All thattldegay'4bq
[n H. the contic'ter. 1 id, .
a fisherman, -and. during the fm~~
;easoni, a principal'artlole of" foodftm
the paupers was tidh~ads and teils't
shad, which wer tito hen dre4
for salting. iThey were oid
a littlo otie story" house~ wih autie
ntot to esteed 2o by80eem and ewel
aull std~~re a i'ioo t toge, v,'ty
male, wt;a potat
littlo' raard: to 4oo00" de us of
the dleath'9 a
tbrgotac puo ai' '
rehole amodutootr sted*r
vear; iredbe1 ~ tt~ bb
gency calsit9 a
bid; 86 that'the cuterto had
rcinere-hm ar e