so
‘ oilitatcd. In this distressing state,
V ,buildings ready framed, or to
VOL. 16.
'PUiiL'isirED ‘
Every Tucsziagy Ilforning,
A FEVV RODS ‘VEST OF THE BRIDGE,
BY
JAMES REED.Jr--
’_[‘_E§{1}§S—'1‘ivo Dollars per annum, payable
quarterly: Mail Subscribers in advance. A liberal
discount made to compauies.—Any person who will
become responsible for six papers shall have the
‘seventh gratis.
PULMONARY CONSUMPTION E
Catarrhnl and Aslhniatic Disorders!
‘MORE than our: TENTH of all the annual deaths in this
_ country and Great Britain, are stated to be caused by
‘That insidious destroyer of human life, the
CONSll1Vll"'l‘l0N.
_ Easily overcome in its infancy, it rapidly arrives, if neg-
llected, at an unconquerable and terrific maturity. An
‘obstinate, violent, and convulsive cough is the inevit.ab1e
;'forerunner, when neglected, of the PULMONARY CON-
;SUMl.’TlON, and its attendant train of horrors; increased
'-heat and pulse; nausea; oppression of the breast ; greenish
{and bloody spittle ; loss of appetite and increase of thirst;
-ulcerated lungs; clammy sweats and hectic fever; general
‘-eniaciation of the body; slirivelled extremities; excessive
and weakening discharges ; sinking of the eyes ; prostration
fof strength; burning palms and flushed cheeks; swollen feet
and legs; and, at length, while_thc wretclied sufferer‘ is still
sanguine_of life, cold_ extremities and an agonizing dcatli.
'.lhe_se evils may be nipped in the bud by the timely adminis-
tration of that long tried and invaluable Medicine,
Dn. RELI-‘ifs AS’1‘I!l\IATIC Pii.i.s,
which have been known to cure persons supposed to be far
-gone in a_ Consumption, and exhibiting all the appearance‘ of
approaching dissolution.
The Pills also constitute an excellent PECTORAL Mi~:r>icii\'r:.
Those therefore who are troubled with the common coughs
occasioned by acrid liumours, tickling in the throat, or de-
fluxions upon the lungs, depriving the patient of refreshing
sleep, and gradually introducing the train of Pulmonary affec-
trons, will receive from the use of the Pills, -certain, and
frequently, the most sudden and cheering relief. They
‘appease the cough, promote easy e_\'pectoration, relieve and
often cure protracted, obst.iiiate and riiost distressing cases.
‘Common Colds are generally removed by the Pills in a few
iours.
These Pills also afford immediate relief in the harrassing
and suffocating complaint of t.lie AS'l‘lIMA. In attacks of this
disease CllI1l‘dCl2Cl‘l’l.Ctl by ditliculty of breathing; t.iglitiiess
and stricture across the breast and in the lungs; oppressive
flatulence; wliec'/.ing; coughing and hoarseness; costive—
‘ness, and other Astlnnatic syinptoiiis, the timely administra-
tion of Dr. Relfe’s Pills, in variably mitigates the attack, often
ensures pcrinanent relief, and sometimes effects a radical
cure.
The Pills maybe taken with the most perfect safety. as
they require. in ordinary cases, no confinement, and may be
administered with the utmost confidence to all ages and
classes of people. .
These popular Pills have been used by multitudes with
iinexampled success, in a vast variety of cases, from those
of the slightest, to others of the most contirined character.
Their powerful agency has been known to revive from the
bed of sickness, the palid, dejected and emaciated victim,
and send him back again to “ the busy hum of mm,” an active
man of business in the full enjoyment of the blessings of
tiealtli.
[L7 in proof of which. the following, from 21 multitude of
testimonials, are respectfully submitted :
“lliave tried your Dr. li'rlfc’s Asthmatic Pills, in Asthma,
difficulty of breathing, and Consuinption, when all other .lIi.~zli-
cine limlfnilczl, and have found them 77l[)S\’- c.i-c-client.” Another
I’h_\'sician writes : “ I have tried your Ii‘rl/"L-‘s Asthmatic Pills
with a patient ofmine, whose case had resisted every thing;
the cough has certainly left her.” A correspoiidcnt writes:
"‘ The As'riiism'ric Pii.i.s give such astonisliiiig relief in cases
of common colds, coughs, dzc. as no one can believe unless ‘my
make the trial.” ‘
An agent writes: “Your (Dr. Rnlfi.-’s Astlnnalir) Pills have
erformed a miraculous cure in this town. A man about 50,
iad been confined seine months, his feet and lrgs badly swollen ,-
3. bad cough ; respiration ditlicult, and was givcn mvcr by his
physician and friends, who considered him in a cmy7rn1alcon-
sumption; after taking three boxes of these Pills all the
threatening symptoms are T(.‘1Il0L'c(I., and he is fast recoi-'cring.
,-A Gentleman of Plymouth, 70 years of age, was cured of
an Asthma, by three boxes, after having been utlhcied up-
wards of thirty years.
A young Lady of Boston, was severely afilicted for three
years with a violent cough, ditliculty of breatliiiig, s,-lilting of
blood, pain in fhc.si'dc, deprived of sleep, and iiniversally de-
after having t.ried other
Medicine in vain, and cnnsiilcrul as past rcl-hf, on taking only
two boxes of these Pills, her cough and the whole of lici
symptoms left her, sleep was restored, and her health was
perfectly established.
(Price $1for whole boxes of 30 Pills, and 50 ccntafor half do
of 12 Pills, with directions.)
*,,* Prepared from the Original Recipe in “S. of the late
Dr. W. T. Comwiv, by his Inmwdiate Successor, and the Sole
Proprietor, T. KIDDER, and for sale at his Counting Room,
No. 99, next door to J. KinI>En’s Drug Store, corner of Court
and Hanover Streets, near Concert Hall, Boston; and also for
sale by his special appointment, (together with all the valua-
ble Medicines as prepared by the late Dr. Conway,) by
\Vi:i5i) and Bu'rr.i-‘It. Drug,-,-ists. No--wz. k ; Savmoun
JLILRVIS, and Wm. S._\VouD, Stamford, nod CLes 153;
Mi-:.ii), Gl'Cell\\'lCll.
",,+0bservo that none are genuine wltliout the written
siwnature of T. KIDDER, on the outside printed wrapper.
T1341 large discount made to those who buy to sell again.
4
. ,,,.
EH QRB ‘W’AE%a*l
AT VVI-IOLESAE Oli IIETAIL.
Y the subscriber. The following are a few of
the principal articles, viz. :—
Cross Cut Saws and Fiddles. Japaned Lamps and
Griddles, Snuffer Trays and Latches, Knob Locks
and Matclies, Gridirons and Snuff Boxes, Coffee
Mills and Wrenches, Oil Stones and Tea VVaiters,
Po vderl-lorns and Augers,VVarming Pens and Meas-
ures, Crow Bars and Horse Whips, Peicussian Caps
and Wafers, Cut Nails and Razors, Mortice Locks
and Giinblets, Cotton Cards and Mouse Traps, Brass
Knobs 8; Clothes Brushes, lfarse Combs and Lather
Boxes. Bridle Bitts and Sad irons, Glass Knobs and
Toasting Irons. Butcher Knives and Iron Shovels,
Brass Butts and Thimbles. lron Squares and Jews
Harps. Grind-stones and Beeswax, Looking Glasses
and Sleigh Bells, Cork-screws ar.d Jamb Hooks,
Buck Saws and Pewter Faucets, Pocket Knives
and Nail-Rois, Pad Locks and Hair Brushes, Stair
Rods and Straw Knives, Slates and Razor Straps,
Tongs and Frying Pans, Shovels and Tea Bolts,
Door Springs and Spectacles, Hand Saws and
Teeth Brushes, Window Springs and Furnaces
Trace Chains and Shoe Knives, Steel Squares and
‘Sash Pullies, Brass Nails and ink Powder, Candle-
sticks and Paint Brushes, Mill Saws and Jack
Knives, Coffee Pets 8:. Pokers, PenKnivcs and Chalk
Lines,Tea Spoons and Scissors, Brass Back Saws
-and Chisscls, Copper Tacks and Gou-go-3, \Vood
Screws and Holland Skates, Window Glass and Gun
Flints, Table Spoons and Andirons, Ridin'g“’iVfiips
and Fish Lines, Shutter Screws and Cutting Plyers.
Scale Beams and Lanthorns, Curry Combs and Saw
Files. Cast Steel and Bed Cords, Bed Screws and
‘Horse Brushes, Sheep Shears ilml Bellows, Bed Key
and Plane Irons, Curtain Pins and Sledges, Hub
Bands and Dish Kettles, Patent Butts and Snuffers,
Flat Bolts and Lather Brushes. Compass Saws and
Wedges, Sauce Paris and Screw Drivers, BliickLead
=and Steel-Yards.Iroi: Pots and Compasses, Lehigh
Coal and Axes, 1-2 Round Files and Table Casters,
Sud Iron Stands and Wagon Boxes, Rat Tail Files
‘and Iron Casters, Bench Planes and Hinges, Trying
Squares and Spiders, Flush Bolts and Adzes..Hat-
ters Grates and Lashes, Ditching Spades and Gages,
Spring Steel and Door Knockers, Segar Tubes and
Trowels, Sash Cords and Sparables, Steel Traps and
Gate Balls. Shaving Soap and Paper, Trunk Locks
and Oil Cloth, Chest Locks and Whet Stones,
Wrought Nails and Trunk Locks, Red Chalk and
Indigo, Bread Trays and Carvers, Pocket Bulesand
Sun Glasses. Bottle Corks and Marking Brushes,
Cotton Yarn and Dog Collars, Knitting Pins and
Draw Locks, Trip Hammers and Anvils, &c &,c,
The above goods with many more, may be found
at the Store of JACOB SMITH.
NOTICE TO BUILDERS.
; HE subscribers would inform the public Ilia‘
they are engaged in the business of getting out
8:. furnishing building timber of almost all dimensions,
any person wishing to purchase Hewed timber or
engage unseasoned
.0‘a.k and chestnut plank or boards, spokes, Burk,
or coal, would do well to call and exainine f0l.'_lll0m-
selves. Any information directed to James St.Jolin,
2d or Russel Mead of Wilton, Bald Hill or Wm._ll.
Ambler of Danbury. will receive iinmodiate attention.
.N- B. Mill shafts of almost any dimcnsl0nS,cu_n
{be furnished in the rough, or hewn as shall best Suit
the purchaser. J. AMES Si. JOI-IN, 2d.
RUSSEL MEAD.
VVM. H,‘ Um
Wilton, fab; Q,
POETRY.
MORTALITY.
From the “ Songs of Israel.”
Oh ! why should the spirit of mortal be proud,
Like a fast flitting meteor, a fast flying cloud;
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
He passes from life to his rest in the grave.
The leaves ofthe oak and the willows shall fade,
Be scattered around, and together he laid ;
And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall mouliler to dust, and together shall lie.
The child that a mother attended and loved.
The mother that infant’s alfectioii that proved,
The lnisband that mother and infant that blest,
Eacli—-all are away to their dwellingrof rest.
The maid on whose check, on whose brow, on whose
eye,
Shone beauty and pleasure—her triumphs are by :
And the memory of those that loved her and praised,
Are alike from the minds of the living erased.
The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne,
The brow of the priest that the niitreliatli worn,
The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.
The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap,
The lierilsniaii who climbed with his goats to the
sleep.
The beggar that wandered in search of his bread,
Have faded away llke the grass that \\~'etre=.1il.
The saint that enjoyed the communion of heaven,
The sinner that dared to remain on forgiven,
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
I-lave quietly mingled their bones in the dust.
So the multitude goes -like the flower and the weed,
That wither an-:-.y to let others succeed;
So the multitiide coines——.2ven those we behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told ;
For we are the same things our fathers have been,
We see the same sights, that our failieis have scan,
VVe drink the same stream, aml we feel the same sun,
And we run the same course that our fathers have
run.
The tlionglits we are thinkin_'_v our fathers would think,
From the death we are slirinking from, they too
would shrink,
To the life we are clinging to, they too would cling——
But it speeds from the earth likea bird on the wing.
They lovctl-but their story we cannot unfold,
They 8(‘0l'll(‘(l—lllll the. heart of the bauglity is cold,
They gi'iev’d—biit no wail from their slumbcrs may
come, _
They joyed-—but the voice of their glailness is dumb,
They died—-aye, they died—and we things that are
now. '
\Vho walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
VVho make in their dwelling a transcient abode
Meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage road.
Yea, hope and (l(3SD0ll(l(.‘.llCf‘., and pleasure and pain,
Are iniiigzleiltogellier in sunshine or rain;
And the smile and llltlit-l!l‘,:lll(l the song and the dirge,
Still follow each other like surge upon surge.
’Tis the twink of an e_vc—-'tis the draught of a breath,
From the blossom of health tothe palencss of death;
Froin the gildt-il saloon. to the bier and the shroud,
Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud!
1 .P..4...
IEEESCELLANY.
From the Casket.
'I‘EllE DESERTElR.
CONCLUDED.
“ ls happy and well,” breathed Laban, as
be pressed his sister to his bosom. “\Ve
are alone in this W0l'lt.l, Maria.”
“My murclered father,” screamed the
horror struck (laugliter. “ I have murdered
my father.” .
“ No, my sister,” sootliingly replied La-
ban, “ of what you accuse yourself’, you are
innocent. Your name was the last word
which fell from the month of your parent;
a blessing was on his face, and no doubt in
his heart. ‘We are orphans, Maria; and
in a few days, I hope will be beyond the
reach of ever again seeing the heartless,
bloodless tlirong, who have’’—
The last duties were paid to the remains
of Col. Ilillman. I-Iis estate was given up
to his creditors. Not the slightest suspicion
arose of the true cause of the illness of the
once lovely and flattered Maria—but she
was desertecl. Those who, in her sunshine
of prosperity, fluttered around her, (lid her
new a most. consoling service, they fled her
presence. The former sounds which float-
ed from room to room in I-Iillnian House,
left no echo. Silence reigned over tie
scene, or was broken by the tlirilling but
mild voice of true friendsliip. Of the iii-
mates of the family one was left, Capt.
John Marsham; and of the crowd of ser-
vants one remaincd, the oldest, Bertha.
The very day after the interment of Col.
Hillman, the servants, with one exception,
demanded their wages. “I paid them,”
said Laban, “and saw one mercenary gang
follow another.” .
With the servants Bertha did not appear,
but being sent for came, with a respectful
dignity above herstation. To the offer of
her wages, which was made, with pain and
reluctance she replied, spreading out her
arms, “ Master Laban, on this bosom, witli-
in these arms, yourself and sister were nurs-
ed——what have I done that I must be driven
from you '2” And without waiting a reply,
she burst into tears, and returned to the u-
partment of her mistress.
Such a world ought to be,”—exclaimed
Capt. Marsham, who was present at the ele-
vated display of affection shown by the
aged nurse, “if God’s choicest blessings
were not brought down upon it by a few-—
one piece of gold will often repay us for
turning up much rubbish.” He then rose
and strode several times across the ample
saloon, where they were sitting; but at
length stopping before young Hillman,
exclaimed, “It is time to talk of worldly
matters. It is nonsense to march round
and round when the field lies open before
us. You are reduced to half pay. Pshawl
what of that? So are thousands. There
is no benefit of talking unless we use the
plain truth. What are you going to do,
boy i”
Laban was well aware of the drift of the
old veteran ; be well know that a proposal
to share old Jack Marsham’s rations was
the ultimate manoeuvre, and if all romance
had not been banished by the most weighty
and pressing misfortune, some amusement
might have followed ; but as matters stood,
young Hillman, fixing liis- grateful looks on
the earnest face before him, replied :
“ My dear old friend, for such you have
always been,to ti truth beyondwliat most
men can coiiccive; it was only yesterday I
._ ._ .. __ M
'\._.- ..;, _._; V‘
.. ..
’.r".4.-E7 -: -.\- ..-«.
AZETT
nonvvaara, cons. TUESDAY, MAY 28, 1833.
found amongst my father’s papers, that the
gash that adorns your head was received
in rescuing your colonel from an over-
whelmning enemy. That colonel is gone,
and has left his son to repay his debt. I
am not reduced to half pay—-I am a too
wealthy man. My Uncle Sommers, in
Gleucestersliire, is dead, and I am his
heir.”
\Vhile this disclosure was making, the
old man stood the iinagc of ostonisliment
and delighted surprise, and at its close
broke out into ti paroxyism l)e_yoiirl,' any
thing Laban could have expected, This
exuberance of feeling a little moderated,
the young man proceeded.
“Yes, Marsham, if that worthless throng
which crowded this room a few days since,
knew the real state of my alfziirs, I would
be overivlielinued with eondnleiicc. To-
morrow, or the next day, I quit Ilillman
llouse, with my sister and that excellent
woiiian her nurse.” '
Ilcre Laban paused, and the keen eye of
the warrior saw that soincthing painful was
left beliinrl, demanded, in a tone half se-
vere, half friendly, “Jack Marsliam was
never very much disposed to do things by
halves, or of receiving half confidence;
wliatlies there that your frienil is not to see?”
“ Nothing,” replied Labaii, fervently.
“But there are wounds the breast cannot
have probed witlioutdread-—-my sister”-—'
“Is unwilling to leave the place of her
birtli,” interrupted Marsliam.
“ Maria is ready to leave, arclcntly wishes
to quit forever a place where she has found—
a villain,” replied Laban, in a voice where
regret and rage sti'iiggled for mastery. He
then poured the dreadful truth into the car
and heart of BIi1l'Sllill'll. As the iiarrative
advanced, the cnunteiianco of the auditor
became more and more stern ; but he stood
inetiouless until he pronuiinced the naine of
Bl'(3l'llLWOO(.l. The mime was a spark thrown
into a powder magazine, and all the soldier
was roused. He drew his sword, which he
geiierallywore, and out a few tlourislies,
any one of which would have sent the ob-
ject of his wrath to his long accoiiut.
Coming at last to be more calm, if not
more cool, the warm hearted soldier ex-
claimed—--“Thank heaven, and you Hill-
man may thank me some little, for having
it in your power to punish this sn'iootli-f:ic-
ed mnrauder. I see now, why he did not
come to Ilillman House lately. But, all’s
well, place your injured sister in safety with
her aunt. Say iiotliing—keep her, poor
thing, quiet. No rl:inger—I have played
at quarter staff, and pushed points with that
same Col. Brentwood. I have tried his
pistol skill, too—-I know what he can do,
and what he cannot do. He cannot meet
old Jack Marsham, or young Laban Hill-
inan. But, Hillman, he has no idea but that
he could split you at the first thrust, or bring
you down with the first shot.”
The next day after this interview, in a
close carriage, with a new coachman and
outrider, Hillman and his sister, with their
faithful old nurse, quitted Ilillinan House
forever. Maria cast no lingering look be-
hind, over the scenes of her cliildhood: all
that was left to her was by her side. The
prospect behind her lay withered, blasted
and desolate. By easy journeys the party
reached their destination in Gloucestershire.
The true condition of Maria was confided
to her aunt, who conducted herself as-every
person ought, to whose protection repentant
weakness is confided. The heart-bruised
girl found the breast of a mother, on which
to repose lier achin_r_r_; head. Having with
great inward impatience succeeded in plac-
ing his sister in her house of refuge, and
seeing licrsometliing more composed, under
many preteiices on the necessity of attend-
ing to his recently acquired estate, Hillman
set out with his friend l\'Iarsliam in pursuitof
Brentwood. VVliilst young‘ Irlillman was
employed on the removal of his sister, Mar-
sliam had learned that Breutwood had gone
to the continent. .
VVith every diligence the two pursuers
were on board of a packet, bound to Calais;
which, by a storm of unusual violence and
duration, was driven up the Channel, and
with great difliculty jiiavigated intof‘Dun-
kirk. It was already night when they laiid-
ed, and were conducted to a hotel, where
as they were advancing to their room, they
were arrested by a voice in one adjacent;
they listened attentively—it was the voice
of Brentwood. The motions of this depre-
dator on family peace had been skilfully
arranged. He had landed at Calais, pro-
ceeded to Paris, andthenee round to Dun-
kirk, from whence he had engaged a pas-
sage to Scotland; but the winds threw his
pursuers into his track-—pursuers, too,
determined not to pernit any considerations
of ceremony to dept‘ e_'_ them of their ad-
vantage. , '
Marsham, in a disguised hand, directed
a note to Brentwood, stating that a gentle-
man in the same hotel desired with him an
interview of a few moments. Taken by
surprise, be obeyed, and was ushered into
the presence of Marsham and Hillinan, by
the maitrc d’hotcl. VVith all his nerve, and
he was not really a coward, Brentwood was
confounded, and the three stood eyeing
each other some time before either broke
silence.
“ Really, gentlemen,” atlength observed
Brentwood, bowing, “tliis-—-this is on hon-
or, an—a,n—-unexpected honor.”
“It is a. sincere ‘pleasure to me, Col.
Brentwood,” replied I-Iillman, with perfect
composure, but with seine bitterness, " that
I have been saved traversing the continent
and islands of Europe, in search of the man
of all men I most desired to meet.” .
“ The pleasure may be mutual,” replied
Brentwood, “when I learn the subject.”
“That you have not to learn,” abruptly
interrupted Hillman. “I am not here to
waste time or words—l-choose one of two
tliings, either return to England and fulfil
your eiigagcmeuts with my sister"----
_ . r -
"effect.
viiiit enteriiig -with a black-sealed letter.
“ Engagements l” ejaculated Brentwood,
with great affected ustoiiislimcnt, “ engage-
ments, ’pon my soul this is fine.”
“ Then you are ready to meet me on the
barrier,” coolly observed Hillman. . _
-“Oh! is that your next choice 1” dc.
manded Brentwood, with the expression of
a demon. “On the barrier? Certainly.
Our weapon the baeksivord.”
Hillman and Marsliam bowed, and Brent-
wood retired. ' V
The preliminaries being ari'a'iig'erL the
parties met; but approaching the ground,
l\’larsham observed, “ The backsword, eh l
there Caesar Brentwood has sinned against
himself; but, I'Iillinau, take the advice of
an old soldier, do not depend on your
strciigtli or skill—put your powers into ac-
tion at once. Be cool.” . ,
I-Iillman was cool, and when the disfan'ce
was ineasured, at which they were to stand,
when the order “ advance” was to be given,
and they had their hands on 'the liilts of
their swords, observed in a mild voice,
“ Col. Brentivood, would. it not be more just:
and honorable to fulfil a sacred promise to
one member of a family?”
“More convenient to you and your sis-
ter,” snceringly replied Brentwood. But
he had notiine to say more, the sword of
Ilillniau flushed, and they rushed to mortal
strife. I-Iillman was younger and more ac-
tive, and with an equal skill, had ii most
decided advuiit:igc,\vliicli was rendered still
more decisive by being uriderrated by his
aiitagoiiist, and at-the second pass Brent-
wood’s sword was wreiiched from his grasp,
and t_lii'owii‘ to sever«=.l yards distance, and
himself laid prostrate at the feet of Hill-
man. The latterstepped backwards, and
with the most cutting contempt observed,
“Rise, Colonel, and pick up your weapon.”
Bliiidecl by rage and mortification,Brent-
wood did resume his sword, but with no
better success. In an instant lie was again
disarined, and grovelliiig in the dust. The
term of mercy was drawing to a close, and
I-lillman now presented his naked point to
the breast of his fallen enemy, observing,
“ Col. Brentwood. your word of honor or
'our life this moment.” 4
I-Iumbled and terrified, as both Marsham
and Hillman supposed, Brentwooil gave the
required pledge, and they returned to Eng-
land together. From the termination of
the duel, the whole conduct of Brentwood
clianged. He became complaisaiit, and
apparaiitly frank and Collfldlllg‘, as if noth-
inp; sinister had occurred, and he was in due
time united to'Maria Hillman, with all the
solemnities of the Englisli Cliurcli. 3‘ ”‘ *5
The more discerning and practised Mai‘-
sham was not entirely without suspicion;
but Hillman so anxiously desired to see his
sister restored to her deserved rank and re-
putation, that the sLi_s.§‘gest:ir)l)S (if his friend
were disregarded. The -inarriage of Ma-
ria and Brentwood, however, so entirely
changed the relations and authority of the
parties as to open the eyes of Hillman too
late. Clotlied with the legal powers of a
husband, Brentwood used them to terrible
From the day of his niarriage, his
conduct became abstracted and thoughtful,
though not morose. Maria was too weak
to be removed, until she had given birth to
a son. At the sight of his child, the heart
of Brentwood seemed to relent, and a dawn
of happiness rose before the long tearful
view of his wife. Such is luiman nature.
It is probable that his mind floated between
the best and worst passions of man. Ma-
ria recovered rapidly ; and in a few months
the bloom and infantile smiles returned to
her countenance, which beamed with the
gladness of her pure heart, as she gazed al-
ternately on her husband, child, aunt, and
brother. In the sunshine of this deceitful
calm, one morning Breutwood entered the
breakfast room in high spirits, observing,
“You must pardon me for a little deception,
but I have been actively engaged, through
my steward and agent, in having my house
arranged for the reception of this dear pair.
It is time to see how my girl will appear in
her own house.” - .
A pang seemed to pass through. the
heart of Maria; -she looked at her babe and
husband, and joy predominated. She felt
the pride of'a. wife and mother. A few
weeks more, and Hillinan saw his sister in-
stalled in her new character‘. Capt. Mar-
sliam had returned from his residence to
share the restored prosperity of one whom
be regarded as a daughter. All was splen-
dor aud inagnificence around her. The
mansion and estate was a marriage portion,
bestowed by her brother. Brentwood, if
not kind, was respectful, and her little boy
began to bloom in love and intelligence.
Maria was for from feeling felicity, but the
storm she had passed reconciled her to her
lot,-and she was resigned.
The morning of separation from her
brother came, as a bitter trial to both. A
gloomy sadness ‘sat upon the hearts of each
—reason could not tellwhy—butthey seem-
ed to cling to each other as if never again
to meet. Brentwood was, on the contrary,
buoyant, and rallied his “dear wife and bro-
ther” on their reluctance to part, for as he
jocularly observed, “for a week, a month at
most ; for” said he, “I should consider it
very unkind if our brother did not visit us
every week or two.”
The parting was finally ieffected, and La-
ban Hillman was returning to his own house,
with Marsham. The latter in a few days
took his leave, and set out on his journey
homewards. Hillman found seine relief
to a preying anxiety in regulating his too
immense property, and on several visits to
the Brentwood family, all seemed prosper-
ous and happy. , ‘
Sitting down to his supper, after a very
fatiguing day, with '
more tranquility of mind
‘than he had enjoyed for many months, Hill-
mansat in rather pleasing reflections than
in discussing the food before him. From
this half reverie he was roused by a ser-
»
u-- ,
It was hastily opened,.und the contents
were toinforrn him, that his once faithful
and sincere friend, Capt. John Marsham,
was no more. The blow was terrible. A
few days before they had parted in full
llcflltll-illGyj\VCl'e not again to meet on
earth. llillman paced his room the greater
part of the night, and at early dawn was
on his way to Brentwood Hull.
‘Poor Maria must learn our loss from me,’
said be mentally; but it far more dreadful
blow awaited him. On his arrival, where
he expected to meet his Maria, he found
the doors and windows closed. On his ap-
proach‘up the avenue, in front of the man-
sion, he met a rather vulgar looking man,
from whom he learned with equal grief.
and astonislinient, that Brezitwood and his
family were gone; and he learned more,
that the estate was sold, and the worthy
before him the steward and agent of the
new owrier. Afriglitful prcsentiment now
pressed upon his heart, as I-Iillman, on fur-
ther inquiry, found the evasion of Brent-
wood confirmed, but from no person could
he learn the slightest trace in what direction
or to what place he had retired.
The truth now flaslieil terrible conviction
to the mind of Hillinan. Two years of in-
eessant search left him as it found him, at-
terly ignorant of the fate of his sister.
Sickened to the soul with the world, and
more with the artificial world of Europe,
I-Iillmaii determined to leave the theatre of
selfislincss, easuistry, igiiorance. and slave-
ry, and in the society of Friends and in the
\voods of Pennsylvania find a retreat. A
sometlii_ng seemed to whisper to him, that
his sister and her child, if not destroyed,
were concealed in the Englisli colonies ;--
this again streug;tlieiied his resolution, and
houses, lands, and tenements were sold.—
The money, in part, was applied to charit-
able purposes, but enough for independ-
ance retained ; and Laban Hillinan, as far
as the weakness of his nature would admit
adopted the religion and followed the pre-
cepts of VVillium Penn; and in Chester
county his residence was chosen. In Amer-
ica inquiries after the lost Maria were as
fruitless as they had been in Europe, and
Laban Ilillman yielded the remnant of hope
so long and fondly cherished, and sunk into
despair rather than resigriation.
Such was the new Quaker with broad
brimmed, white low crowned hat, and drab
colored coat, and course overcoat, who was
seated in the corner of the bar room of a
tavern on the road from Pliiladelpliia to
Lancaster, in the CVCllll'I,(_" of a most inclein-
eiit night of January, 1778. He had been
on business to Lancaster and was returning
when the approach of night, inclement
weather and no alternative, forced Laban
I-lillman int?) a situation he would very
willingly have avoided. The Landlord of
the inn was captain ofmilitia, and on the
previous day one of those idle alarms then
so common, had called the company to-
gether. The decent part had retired to
their homes; but a half intoxicatedgnud
boisterous set remained, and amongst the
most noisy, and not least iiiebiinted, was
the rude, raw-boned and insolent Boniface;
who, to add to his consequence, retained a
long swinging sword by his side. Hillman
found the bar room the most comfortable
part of the house, as no room was private ;
but protected from personal annoyance "by
his garb, sat quietly looking on the scene
before him, his chin resting on a subtantial
crabstick. Amidst the bowling winds
mingled sleet rain,and the clamor of the
orgies in the house was heard the plaintive
voice of a woman in distress, interrupted by
accents of anger in an opposite room. Hill-
man rose, and throwing his great coat over
the back of his chair, stepped into the com-
mon hull of the tavern. The first objects
which met his eye, were ti very young wo-
man with an infant in her arms ; her cloak
open, and from which the water was drip-
ping; her under cloths showing that slic-
had reached the den on foot. There were
now three persons in the room, who, under
ordinary circumstances’ would have com-
manded respect——a helpless infant, a beau-
tifiilwoman in distress, and a well dressed
member of the society of Friends. The
political texture of the time deprived the lat-
ter of much of that influence which has
been, and ever must be the attendant on the
persons of men whose very appearance
speaks peace : and in the present case,
Laban Hillmau was "left to the natural au-
thority which coolness and liumanity ever
did or ever will possess. As he entered,
the first distinct words which reached his
ear, fell in on almost suffocated voice from
the woman. ‘ _
“Oh, for God’s sake, is there no means.
Olil I must be at Valley Forge to-morrow
morning.” 1 ,
“Where must you be, young madam?”
roared the swaggeringlandlord. “By ,
cant you trudge away 7 Do you suppose my
stage must set out i”
Here a scream from the almost exhaust-
ed woman burst as Hillmari gently took her
arm, and led her to a chair near the fire-
place. She looked up to his face, and her
expression was, as if an angel had appear-
ed to her. “Be of good comfort, damsel,”
said Hillman, “no harm shall reach thee
here.” ' _
“A rid who may you be? shouted the land-
lord, in a voice of great wrath, “who pre-
tends to command here.”
“I am,” replied Hillmau, “what then
ought‘ to be --A Man i” *
“And dare you say,” vociferated the
landlord, “that I am not a man 1"
“It is of little consequence what thou art,”
replied Hillinamturning his left side towards
the fire place, so as to screen the woman
and child, grasping firmly his crab-stick.
Though nothing ofthe kind was intended,
this attitude was regarded by the publiean
captain as a menace, who, with unexpec-
ted deliberation, unbuckled his sword,
swcariug he would see who was master at
r
i
Ev -. I. ..-“I;i'
im. 22.
5'
“The Bear.” The first flourish he made‘
liowever,’by some mischnnce, his scabbard-
ed blade: came in contact with Hillnian’s
crab-stick, and was brokeii into three pieces‘;
his elbow also received a touch which went
far to sober his brain.
The distress of his charge, and the comi
ic figure of his assailant, silenced all wrath
ifuiiy arose in the breast ofI‘Iillnian; who
from some cause not known or regarded by
him, was soon alone with the yoiiiig moth-
er, from whom he learned, in a few broken
senteiices, that her husband, the frather of
her babe, was under sentence, of death for
desertion, and was to be executed next day;
a kind of public hack on the "road,
in which she had taken passage, and
about five miles before she reached his
house her pocket was picked, and she was
left by the varlet who drove the vehicle to‘
find her_way as she could.
All the new religious principles imbibed
by Hillmun were called into requisition, as
lie Ctlll"'lllZ a simple stuteinent of the
wretclicu woman; but his resolution was
taken to conduct her to her destination.-
‘‘I have never seen General \Vashington,”
said l-lillman, soothingly, “but from all I
have heard, you have much to hope. His
heart may be moved by Him who nioveth
in this tempest.” _ _ _
It was in the midst of the same tempest,
and in the night, that Laban Hillman or-
dered out his c=:u‘riage, and left the hum-
bled master of “The Bear” to riiininatc on
a parting promise. “Friend I’ll see thee
again,” pointedly said I-Iillman,_as his voice‘
and the noise of the veliiclo mixed with
the bowling breath of the north-west wind.
“With all the speed that two good horses
could be urged over the deep and almost
impassable roads, it was eleven in the
morning. before the unxious party drove
into the camp. The first particular object
which met their attention was a body of
troops, marching in slow and solemn step,
the drums and fifes echoing the fearful dead
march. The feeble child—for she was,
though a mother, yet a child-—-seeined to
gain a supei'natur:il strength the instant the
terrible truth was before her-. She saw her
husband in bonds, and with a rapidity which.
mocked interfereiice, she was in the arms
of the father of her infant. So instantari-4
eons was the act, and of so extraordinary a
character, that the prosession stopped as
if ofilcers and men liad-been*=.tui'ned to stat-‘
ues. _ _ , P
“Isabel, my love, my wife,” came eon-
clusively from the unhappy man, as he
was clasped in the arms ofliis wife.
“They cannot, they shall not harm my
Henr ,” energetically exclaimed the fran-
tic woman. _ _ _ V
The commanding oflieei‘ rode up to Hill-'
man, who, himself petrified with astonish-
ment, still aat with the child on his lap.
“W'liat is the meaning of this 3" demanded-
the officer in a mild tone. _ ’ I
“You see,” replied Hillman, “the wife of
your prisoner." And he then in a few
words as possible explained how she was
conducted to the camp. “There is seine-
tliing very extraordinary in her story," he
continued, “and if it is possible, it might be
well to stay the performance of what. thou
mayest think duty, until General W'ushing-
too is made acquainted with the circum-
stance.” _ , ,, _
The ofiicer draw out his wateli, paused,
and looking first at the husband and wife,
then on I-Iillman and the child, observed, in
an under voice. “It is unusual; but there
is‘ still half an hour.” He ordered the
procession back to the guard house, and
hastened to inform the commander in
chief of tliecaiise of delay-. _
“You have done well,” replied the gen-
eral,in his usual uninipassioned, but impres-
sive manner, ”stay the execution until fur-
ther orders, and as soon as she can be ‘in-
troduced, bring tho young woman and her
friend, the Quaker gentleman, to my quar-
tern.” -
During the whole revolutionary wen-,.
there was no other periodwhen the suffer-
ings of the United States troops were so in-
tolerable, ns during the winter of 1777-8.
Every deprivation at Valley‘ Forge gives
really more lustre te the American name,
in the eyes of sense and reason, than‘ the
ncliievments in the field or on the ocean ;:
but it is not in human nature, for men, suf-
fering to the extreme of physical endurance‘.
to view with other feelings than those of
exasperation, any one of their fellows
who deserted their colors.’ Every one who
suffered," endured and hoped, expected the
some constancy to the-coznmon cause in.
others. Under such circumstances, desert-
ers,particularly those from the regular army‘
had but little sympatliy to expect if reta-
ken. The continental army had another,
source of difficulty to encounter; that was
secret dissatisfaction. No cause, however"
sacred, has ever secured universal fidelity.
The very young man, whose fate was in*- —
pending, and who has been introduced to ‘p
the reader, lay und_ the ’ double charge of
desertion and disalgction; still‘ his youth,
his steady and connected denial of guilt,
under either charge, and the fact which was
known in the camp, that though so yoiiiig,
he wasa husband and ii father, excited a-
stroiig sentiment in his favor. Yet, on.
trial, the proofs‘ against lnm were so eon-
vincing to the Court Martial, that sentence
of deatli was the eonsequonee; and that
sentence was advancing to its fatal termi-
nation, when arrested in the singular man-'
ner already related- ‘
“Be of good cheer,
Laban Hillman, to his’ .
they were entering the pl’¢5e"C0 Of hm‘ 011
whose lips hung her fate, and that of her
child ‘and husband. is not there placed a
strengthening cord in the human heart,
which exti'eme danger draws to 'a tension
above being any further moved’! In a-vir-
tuous cause, there is no doubt the ‘$1133-
‘W
my daughter,” said ‘
trembling charge, as
» - .;. -.~ ..i .-.z ._ .. , . ‘T-.‘...‘.--ff.-.(:..1-.~«’,:j v.u...' ~’.i-.145.
that the scoundrcl who kept the house had ‘
Norwalk Chronicler