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" i .t, .7.4.ry;tL i " .. 1 {: y'" 11i1 t. y } J Yt 1' t ti "l" r' : c". . :' 4. . l t t i a5 S k! ,i} !r ,' y n h; q i.3 1s 5} '^r t} r 4 N ' f r S ;r Q, y h' r 4 ^, M' k t i7'Xti ri n , - , ,:. : "'. _,. ; "'4 ' t t f 4A qk 77 SOUTIIERN RIGHTS.DEMOdRAoYWs, LITER \Il I M. ' -4, . N Y[ -U s., FRANCIS, -Proprietor. ;Y M i < 1. VI. UMTEI MLLE, . L.. O .T O." E 22, MISCELLANEOUS-. From the Dollar Newspaper. THE OUTLAW'S DEATH. A LEGEN 1 OF THE PAST. BY WI.LIAMt M'KNIiIT. Ah! ult they dream of danger near!" The sun, in unclouded beauty. Ase in the East, and his rays quick dispelled the last lingering shades V4ight, and soon all was 'bathed in bods of liquid light.' The waters f the wild, legendary Mohawk flow. idgently, Bmoothly on their way, and helir murmur was as sweet music to tio ear. The morning air was laden ith the odors sent forth by many. iers, and branches of the trees a i to and fro, as if kissing the ireezo, and inhaling the sweet per fuinewhich it bore. The diversified t;haracter of the whole scene had a tenIency to soothe and please all the . enses, and lay the baser passions at Iestt was a beautiful bright morn ii-'-such a one as makes us feel the power, the love, and the glory of ii'who sits amongst the clouds, turns our hearts up to heaven, lhda our eyes have closed upon the fleting things of earth, greater beau " .ti4e;.9fwilich these are but the fore 8hidowng, will regale our senses bthrough all eternity. On the bank of the river reclined g=:a man, and near him, brushing back he hair, from his high, suu-browncd ,brow, sat a female. His negligent, areless attitude, showed off his tall, - ymntrical form to good advantage; st4 his dress, made of the coarser snateiials in use in the bem"ining of - he nineteenth century, anY cut after re- costumes worn by the early hun ora.othose wild regions, was ar *ra ied With soie care and taste. s belt of tanned buckskin contain apir of horseman's pistols, and a gy..polished kni fe-,- hos thi or any other covaiIag, ned in the beams of the sun. - hb female was about twenty-two or ee years of age, but exposure to 34 weather made her seem older, s ; d not 'detract from her wild, sciunating beauty. There was 4Something in her large, lustrous eyes, n the expression of her features, wjhich.went directly to the heart, urring up its depths and it captive re it thought of resisting. Wil bird, do you yet see aught of hboats ?' asked the man of his companion, and his dark, fierce eyes rested for a moment upon a point s" ''vhore the river took a turn. r z She whom he addressed, starting Sto her feet, approached the bank. nd shading her eyes with her hand, zed intently down the river for a minuto or more, but nothing met her ? sight, and she again took her seat be side her coinpanion, replying to his - 1ook' of interrogation by saying, in a sveet, musical voice, Not a speck is to be seen upon ,-he water. I fear something has hqYnbappened to delay them' '1 trust not,' replied the other * with more. animation; 'for an inter ofour plans at this time wecre 1e country is becoming toe s, and to let our enemies ec slightest advantage over us ivould be to ensure our final de a t.' 'Talk not of defeat, Montray !' ex icairned~the other, placing her hand upen her mouth and casting a hasty ~ glance up the river. 'The simonlo v"ords falls like a chaill on my hieart. ~ hati would become of wild Bird, *ooukd you be slain or taken prison. 'r?" and her eyes imploringly sought 5h3. 'Would they kill her, too, aor ~ et her share your' captivity ? No ! T1Ihey are too inhuman ! Breathe it ~notragain, for theO very thought has 46%d~ many a sleepless night !' S 'Is noti Wild Bird tired at' this ~ id nmode of' life.? Would siho rathi or-not live in the city and not haunt 'No, no !. Wherever you are there ny.am I happy !' was thme passion a reply. 'I love this wild lit'e. I -ove the excitement consequent tup 'nit, and cannot bring myself to lhink it will ever have an end. 'Iso why did I so cheerfully and . yillingly leave home and friends, anid 6reake all for you'? WVild Bird is s~ted and happy,' site conitinuecd, kiud her constant prayer is, that she abeor be separated from you, or Srccd to lead any other life.' ~ ~bthis cannoconitinue always,' g sin~ inponm her with all day must.come that- will witness our separation.' 'But that day is far distant,' she returned; 'and I fain would banish it from my thoughts altogether; for, come late as it will, it come too soon for me. Let us not speak of it at all. It throws a shade upon my spirit when I gladly would look only upon the light side of everything !' 'Ilist ! What is that noise r' ex claimed Montray, rising partly up, and casting a glance back into the furest. 'Look, Wild Bird, if the re mainder of our men are in sight.' Again starting to her feet at his coniand, she mounted a slight ele vation, when, farther back from the river, the forms of six or eight men reclining upon the earth, exposed to the cheering rays of the morning sun, or leaning against the trees, met her sight; while near them was fastened as many saddle horses. 11er eye roamed over the forest, but no other living objects were in sight, and de scending, she joined Montray, and told him the result of her observa tions. 'Perhaps I was mistaken,' he re turned. 'This death-like stillness is becoming oppressive to me !' and starting to his feet, his eye rested upon the turn in the river before mentioned. ' Alh !' he continued, raising his hands, 'here comes the boats at last ! and right heavily laden, too, if we may judge from their movements !' and and the . bandit, now all life and animation, paced the bank with quick and rapid stz'ides. 'I began to fear the worst, but I might. hnvn known Tom Linken bet ter than to suppose lie would fall in to the hands of our foes !' The boats, four in number, moved slowly on, impelled by broad oaken paddles, and at every dip of the oars the water was forced back from the ,aboid n, riing n wa gradually receded, until the won evenness of the surface was resto Each little vessel -was manned five men, and while four of that num ber labored at the oars, the lifth sat in the bow, guiding and directing its movements. They approached still nearer, and the outlaw was upon the point of hailing the foremost one, when, like a sudden clap of thunder, rang upon his cars the report of a dozen rifles in the forest, and, ere he could col lect his senses, were followed by the groans and cu: ses of wounded utVn, and the wild neighs of atfrighted horses. An instant after he 'as joined by three of his men; but the moment they made their appearance the boats stopped, and the occupants, each man quickly raising a rifle, fired; and before the outlaws could comprehend thair design, they were weltering in their own blood. With a wild, unearthly scream, Wild Bird fell across the body of the outlaw, and the red, warm life blood trickled from her polished brow, and stained her rough garments. The men in the boats quickly sptatng upontaehore, -and,* whten they reached the bodies of thte out laws, were met by another party emerging from the forest. -This is a sad sight !' spoke one who appeared to be the leader, amid thte tear glistened in his mnatnly eye as it restedl upon the lovecly form of Wild Blird; 'in my anxiety for the success of our scheme, I did not re cognize a female amongst thtemJ WVhent we slew the robbers in thte boats, and resolved upon the schteme which has proved so successful, our hearts were elated, and we little dreamted thtat a cloud would r-es-. up-f on our vmcto.ry. It has passed and canniot be recalled. Some of the men escaped, and to them we wvill leave the tack of burying thme dead. I have nio htear-t for- it. Arid the ment who had so successfully broken up the band of outlaws, atid accomplish edl their mission. in-ttaced their steps throtugh the for-est witht slow steps and paddened hiear-ts. It was but a shotrt time after they had disappear-ed that, Montray, tcvi. vinig and~ hearing a deep sigh, slowly opented his eyes and gazed around hun upon every side0. ie essayed to t-se but in vain; and, after many efforts, only succeeded in dragging his wountded, bleeding body to a small hillock, a few feet distant from the spot where he had fallen. The sun shione as benignly above his head; the birds sang as merrily around him, and the murmur of the never qjiuit afvq we heard b~y his side. lie opened his lips, and words, faint at first, but gathering strength, issued from them. 'must I lie hero like a craven and bide death's coming? To die! To die ! What is it to die! A man ceases to breathe and all is over. Yet 'tis terrible to stare one's cer tain doom thus in the face. But why should I, who have faced death a hundred times, fear it now ?- One short struggle, and this pulse will cease to beat. Then will I lie a senseless clod, like those around me. And she ! Oh, God ! Reflection, bitter; damning ieflection, comes to steal my peace away, and make me feel the stings of conscience. Back, coward fear ! To die in manhood a prime, and leave this world so full of beauty. To die ! To die ! Hell's foulest demons dance before mine eyes ! The voices of ten thousand furies are ringing in my ears. Oh God !-if God there be-send some kind hand to stop this flow, and case my pain. I will not die !' and, like the flickering glare of the candle, dying in its socket, was the flash of his sunken eye. 'Ho! my sword and horses ! I will not die ! I will resist death and drive him back from the very threshold of my heart. To die ! Oh, God !' One quick, con vulsive struggle, one long-drawn sigh, and his guilty soul, laden with crimes of the deepest dye, winged its flight away beyond the blue expanse, to meet its incensed Maker. The Lover and the Husband. DY 1K. MARVEL. "In his "Dream Life" Ik. Marvel thus sketches in a pleasant vein and with those self-conceitedhminanizing incidents which have ever' caimed the laughter "pood of ou are earnest in your search of friends; you shake h.ands with your office boy, as if he were your second cousin. You joke cheer fully with the stout washerwoman, and give her a shilling overchange, and insist upon her keeping it, and grow quite merry at the recollection of it. You tap your hackman on the shoulders very famniliarly, and tell him he is a capital fellow; and don't allow him to whip his hor ses, except when driving to the post-office. You even ask him to take a glass of beer with you upon some chilly evening. -You drink to the health of his wife. Ile says he has no wife- whereupon you think him a very nmiserable man; and you give him a dollar by way of consolation. "You think all the editorials in the morning papers are remarkably well written -whether upon your sido or upon another. You think the sotck-market has a very cheerful look-with Erie-of which you are a large holder-down to seventy. five. You wonder why you nev er admired Mrs. Ilemauns before, or Stoddard, or any of tile rest. "You give a plcasanit twirl to your lingers as you saunter along thle street; and say -but not so loud as to be overhleard -'She is mine--she is mine." "You wonder if .Frank ever' loved Nelly one-hlalf as well as vou love Madge:2 You feel quite sure he never (lid. You can hard ly conceive how it is, thlat Madlge has not been seized befoire now by sceores of enamor-ed men. and~ borne off, like the Sabine women in Ro mtish history. You chuckle ove your future, like a boy who has found a guinea in groping for- six. pence. You read over thle marriage service- thinking of the time when you will take hel and~ slip the ring upon her- finger; and repeat after the cler-gyman--'for richer--for power; for better--for worse.' A great deal of 'worse' there will be about it. you think. 'Through all, your heart cleaves to that sweet image of your beloved Madge, as lighlt cleaves to day. TIheo weeks leap with a bound; and the menthls only grow long when you ap proach that (lay which is to mnak her yours. Th'lere are rare enough to make boqj diamonds are too dim i to wvear-; pearls are too tame. '-And after mlarriage, the weeks are even shorter than before; you wonder why on earth gli the ein gle men in the world do not rushitu multuously to the Altar; you lork up on them asa ti-aveled man will- look' upon some conceited. Dutch boor, who has never been beyond .thhlim its of his cabbage-garden. Married' men, on the contrary, you regard as fellow voyagers; and look upon their wives--ugly as they may be-as better than none. 'You blush a little at first telling your butcher what 'your wir' would like; you bargain with the groder for sugars and teas, and wonderif ,he knows that you are a married ;man ? You practice your new way of talk upon your office boy:--you tell him that 'your wife' expects you home to dinner, and are astonished that he does not stare to hear you say it ! 'You wonder if the people in the omnibus know that Madge and you are just married; and if thodriver knows that the shilling you 'hOnd to him is for 'self and wife i' You wonder if anybody was ever so happy before, or will be so happy again,? 'You enter your name upon the hotel books as 'Clarence-and Lady; and come back to look at i wondering if anybody else haa n6 ticed it,--and thinking that it lools remarkably well. You cannot help thinking that every third man y u meet in the hall, wishes ho possessed your wife:--nor do you think it.ve y sinful in him to wish it. You far it is putting temptation in the way of covetous men, to put Madge's little gaiters outside the chamber-door at night. 'Your home, when it is.entered . is just what iet small--witir everything "jtha$j wwishe,-and nothing more than Wishes. T'he sun strikes it 7. happiest possible way; .the piar the sweetest toned in the wV library is stocked toa cn - a suffering you class with the infcrn al tortures of the Inquisition. You grow twain of heart and purpose. Smiles seem made marriage; and you wonder how you ever wore them before !' The Maidou and the Hero. On the night of the battle of Brand~y wine, I was sent with a message i-oim (eneral Green to Count Pulaski, a no ble Polamider, who took a piro:nincnt part in our ficedom. IIe was quarter ed in a neat tfrm house near the upper iords. A fter (iir business was Iinishtd the ('oit asked mne to take some re freshmienits, and at the same time he called out "Mary, tay lass, Mary !' In an instant a rosy checked girl en tered, her thee beamiiing with joy, it would scem, at the very sound o: Pu laski's voice. "Did you call me, Count ?" said she timidly. "1 low often have 1 told you, mv lit tle love." not to call mne ('ount; call tme, your dear Pulaski. This is a re public, imyv ia vorite. We have nto Coluts you know.' 'lit y'ou are a Count, sir, when at home, andl they say y'ou comle a long~ w~ay over. the oJcan to fight ir us."' es ys, Mlary, ver~y true, (did coeauog wayv, but one reasoni whly, was, I laid tot (OIcmei ni ai measure. Now can you get fhr this gentlemain anid my ;self a little refr'eshmetnct t .lie has a long way to ride to ntight.'' "Certaintly sitr,'' and she went out of the toom it ike a thi ry. "'A line pleasant girl,'" s-aid Pulaski; w ouhl that I had the wealIth Ithat, I on~ce had, I woul give her a pjti on that would send hlbf thle youths hierezi houts after her sweet Ihee. * * (Oi t he m onuing of thle it Ii of Sep tembier, 1779, the British annuty ad( vanced in lill force to Chadd's FIord, for the purpose of crossinig the Brandy witie creek, anid binig oni an actioin drove Alaxwel l's di vision across the creek by t en o'clock, at onte of the lower ihrdls. The l1 essian getneral K noupihauscen, witht a barge three adIvancinug up thle side of the crecek antd uniting withI Lord Cornwallis who cominumnded the left wing of the armiiy, crossed at the upper fords of thle iive'r antd creek. It so happlened that durin~g the ra ginig of the condliet, in carry ing orders I Ipassed inaunedirtely in dirtectiont of Pulaski's quanrters, thaut I hiad visited lie night before. Situaited as the ' 'f battle, eurti .~ iden y asheet of flame hurst forth. lIm house wats on fire Near the doior step lay the body of Maryt ~, her head cut open by' a sabra, and her brins oozing ouit oft the terriile w.oumnd! I Jl d not l)(,99 t0 t er mor C thltinuf a tintite1 when 'Pulaski .at the. hed ' fe' atrO0 of cavalry, galloped. rapidly to th arouse. Neicr 'shall I frtl vet .thp 'cc pressiorn of his face is he sioutedyike a demon on s'eliig the iianlmate form, ,VW ho did this A littl i boy that had not.been .b'. fore noticed, who was lying amid ti grass, his leg dreadfully mangled, ig "There, thero they go' He pointed to a comipany of iessi. ans, then some distance-oil: "Rigait wheel, nen, charge!" -And they ,id charge; ido not think ihat one man of that HeIssian cirps or or left the field, except to be placed lii the grave. The last.I saw of Pulaski was on the battle-grouid of the Brandy-wir e. Habits of Authors. Racine composed his verses whil walking about, reciting them in a loud voice. One. day, when thus working at his play of Mithridates, is the Tuileries Gardens, a crowd .o workmen gathered around him, at tracted by his gestures; they took him to be a mad man about to throw himself into the basin. On his re turn home from such walks, he would write down scene by scene, at first in prose, and when he-had thus writ ten it out, lie would exclaim, 'My tragedy is done!' considering the dressing of the acts 'up in verse as a very small' affair. Magliabschi, the learned librarian to the Duke of. Tuscany, on the con trary, never stirred abroad, but lived amidst books and upon books. They were his.bed, board, and washing. Ie passed eight-and-forty-years in their midst;only twice in. tha 'course ofhis life- " beyond the& alls f Flo ren nce led Qli, antgthe otle'r tim9 '~ Qand half leagnesby orderDfO ianid. Duke. He was an extremely f ugal man, living upon eggs, bread and ater, inre oderation - tying ,n e had brought from Wartburg, ana of which lhe was very fond. An 'ivo ry crucifix stood on the table 'before him, and the walls of his study were stuck round with caricatures of the Pupe. le worked' at his desk fo: (lays together without going out; but when fatigued, and the ideas began to stagnate in his brain, he woukl take his flute or his guitar with hii into the porch, and there execute some musical fantasy, (fur he was a skilful musician,) when the ideas would flow upon him as fresh as flow ers after summer's rain. Music was his invariable solace at such times., Indeed Luther (lid not hesitate to say that, after theology, music was the first of arts. 'Music,' said he, 'is the art of the prophets; it is the only other art which, like theology calm the agitation of the soul, and put the Devil to flight.' Next to music, if not before it, Luther loved children and flowers. That greal gnarled man had a heart as tender as a woman's. Calvin studied in his bed. Every morning, at five or six o'clock, ho had books, mnanuscripts, and papoer< carried to him there, and lhe worked on for hours together. If he had oc casion to go out, on his return he un dressed and wont to bed again t< continue his studies. In his latet years lie dictated his writings to sec retarics. Ie rarely corrected any thing. The sentences issued comn plete from his mouth. If lie felt hi: facility of composition leaving him he forthwitht quitted his bed, gave uj writing atnd composing, and weni about his out-door duties for days weeks and months together. Bumt a: soon as he felt the inspiration fall up on him again, lie went back to hi: bed, and his secretary set to work forth with. Rousseau wrote his works early it the mnorning; Le Sage at midday Byron at mfidlnigrht; Iardouini rose at four in the morning, and wrote til late at night. Aristotle was a tremendous work er; lie took little sleep, and was con stantly retrenching it. He had contrivance by which lie awoke early and to awake was with him to comn mence work. Demosthenes passet three months ini a cavern by the sea side, in laboring to overcome the do focts of his voice. There lie read studied, and declaimed. Rabelais composed his lire of' Oar gantua at Bellay, in the company o Roman cardinals, and under th eyes of the Bishop of Paris. L Fontaine wrote his fab les chimeily un ter theo abatdo of a~ tree) and sont tins bjth side o" ,eau: Iasral wrs(e o moo narqlie, iw rien iscbirn the :duties of tuto tolhe=-Dauphi . That a book so thoroughly datnouttieshoild hava issued:'from sucha source, anid be iiritten'by a npiest nay seem sui-sg. Dc Qdinc' fils prdoitiN gated his notionof universal frs-: dom. of 'person and tiide, anti"f throwing all, taxes on. the lain4 ha t1, germ, per lays of the Frenc Rev lution-in the boudoi of Madai de Pamladour. Bapon knelt down before conpos ig his great work, and prayed=for light from heaven. Pope . never' could compose ;well without first ide claiming for.some: time at the" top of his voice, and thus rousing his nerv ous system to its fullest -activity. The life 'of Leibnitz was one of reading, writing, and meditation. That was the secret of his .prodigous knowledge. After -an attack of. gout, he 'onfined. himself to a diet of bread and milk. Often he slept in a chairs and rarely went to bed-till after midnight. Sometimes ho was months wiiout quitting his sat, .where he slept by night and wrote by day.' He had an ulcer in his right leg which preveited his iVlkina about, even had ho wished .to do s6s Eliza C1ok a Jourardl. DEATH WILL The Rev. Albert 'Dar)es? in' :ian able discourse -in he .Octber rhm-. her of the Nimtional Prcher, holds owing graphic Ian unage in il n tration o eclara'tion:' Death will come'h rain ly - ate.. <le }anni l udad .eA n iio. an eepin' hi t ig bird, the insect that: flutters in tli sunbeam; every tree and shrub and flower; the oak, the pine, the acacia, the moss that grows over .'the wall; every monarch, every peasant, every rich man, every poor man, every slave, every master of a slave, every man, every woman, every child; every old man that prides himself on his honors and his wealth; every young man that prides himself on his talents or his strength; every maiden that prides herself on her beauty.. Oh, all will die! I am in a world 'of death; I am amidst the dying and the dead;-I see not a liv ing thing in all my rambles that will not die, no man, no woman, no child, no bird, no beast; no plant, no tree. The eagle that cuts the air can pot fly above it: the monster of the deep cannot dive below it; the tiny insects cannot make itself so insig nificant that death will not notice it; leviathan cannot, i ith great strength, struggle against it. The Christain will die; the sinner will die-yea, the sinnor! Your wealth cannot save y'ou. iDeath cares for none of these things; they are-alil trifles-gewgaws beneath his notice, lie no more 'loves a shining mai k than an ignoble one; he has no more pride in cutting downi the rich man thaii the poor main-the daughter of beauty and fashion than the daughtcr of ugliness and sin, lie loves to level the this tle as well as the rose-budl; the bram ble as the magnolia; the brier as the cedars of Le-banonm. lie cares as little for the robes of ermino as for the beggar's rags; as little for tihe robes of ichest vesrments and gavest apparel as for the blanket of the 'sav age. You will die, and the fear of death will come upon you. Death comes just as he is-pale, solemn, fixed, determined on his work. H~e hears no cry for pity: he regards no shiik of terror. IHe comes steady, certain, unchmanged and unchangea ble in his pur-pose to take you from your bed of splendid dwelling; to call you out of the assembly rooni-tak mag you away from youi- companions, that will miss you for a umomient and thergesume their dance, that 'you -may die. Death will come. He has been advancing towards you ever since you began to breathe. He has kept en his way, always ad vancing toimeet you; while you have gone North, or South, or 'East, 'or West, ho has always put himself ini~ your path, how near or how resnote you have never known. Dceith will some. lo h~iilways been advac ud. will tanidy'gll, " tween ou l lid 'world an 1 valley. bea .. Ic o enough nder Ii ^ evenif you re-g, - unipoalablr aful * r Leerninito W,'SBaj eiii'e'Lle er ofhis nave tongue not: learn to spty ell the ih 'oi hi tongue an defo every, hourshowsno iea a)1 for; tio .duties of an 5 serving man _ Bad spklliV fore is an unnvoidable -idt atii indicates a blunderingma that-cannot see With bi? Accordingly we lavelnow6' plication 'of more tbat one. man, made with great disp a mansbip and paradev rejected for his bas' elng Bad spelling is a verycon* bad indication. He whotis read it. A bright seh of.toy incapable of appreciatingyg, of seiehe4' art and lit r see ",l Oro 7MI I" ,to ispire tia y ,W - respect for your attaeinent s eliing is threbro a ver and incovenient., have known menUthro inent positions, so and6' 8 t deficiency In this. resect t a never ventured to; senda l'te had been revised by a : was. o say no more, -sHfid convenient. "ry~l yAyo u}.nd you hay , theoleasund the speling of a word Zoo once, and remember' it. Do n your laziness get the better o7 EXAMINATION IN ANATOMY os man dilTer from the brute fin? " Ile stands upright, but hie act so. Ile walks on tes leIsd trary to the Bible, . It say, 'gU thy belly shalt thou go all the daje thy life..' : W here is the carotid artery " It commences both sideiof neck, at the shirt collar. passesa der the hat brim to the topf head, then down the insensate. and terminates in both boots. f How long ought a person to ie" . in a warm bath ? "Till he finds his toe nails on the surthee to the water ! "Next class in Materia Medici'd a The following exquisito p was written in an eating honuebi' young man who was labortigii the agony of unrequited love don't know where it comes fron~i did not hear If it's author etrvy ed .- CJarpet Bag. "Oh, carve me yet another slice, 0Oh, help meo to more gravy still L There's nought so sure as sumeihlg To conqu~er care, or grief tokll I always loved a bit of beef, W hen youth and blilssand hop~e Amsi now it gives my heht. rol lef Ins son ow's darksome hour -b die a The following anecdote, lluar11~ of railroad facility, is v'eiy go h A traveller inquired of a niegrith tance to a certain point. JD tI4 on circumrstance," replied the a "If you gwine. afoot, It'll' tako-y& about a day3; if yoti-gwiho in dot or the homnieybus, you mak~ 1tr Snhe a day; hut y ou git in one of desesrrak wagons, you be almos' dar now There is a letter addlessed t esty," lying in the Baltimore p~ (ice, ntud there being no ehni in that city, the post master vertised it. The boot and shoe'maugn tr Mas~achuisotts enmploys 7,~ and females ; and theyefy'1 t he boots and shoes is ab't *2 000. SMAL. CnAwox4reith are to b e hadi2 ie 'l Mi.nt1 it is aieldinsur