g.u.x'-1'4-I -
~.va.4.t I 1*‘ .
-o'l.JLI:I:.‘dr.'s. a‘.'.-I-nIlI:’.1.€IK -- ha: unz.M¢r_.J
POETRY.
EDITH.
BY L. E. LANDON.
VVg‘e;p not, weep not, that in the spring
e have to mark a grave:
The flowers will grow, the birds will sing,
The early roses wave, _ _
And mark the sod we’re spreading fair
_ For her who sleeps below ;
\Ve might not bear to lay her there,
In winter frost and snow. '
\Vc never hoped to keep her long:
\Vheii but a fairy child,
\Vith dancing step, and bird-like song,
And eyes that only smiled,
A something shadowy and frail
\Vas ever in her mirth;
She looked a flower that one rough gale
\Vould bear away from earth.
'I‘liere was too clear and blue a light
\Vithin her radiant eyes,
They were too beautiful, too bright,
' Too like tlie_ir native skies ;
Too changeable the rose which shed
Its color on her face,
Now burning with a passionate red,
Now with just one faint trace.
She was too thoughtful for her years,
Its shell the spirit wore ;
And when she smiled away all fears,
\Ve only feared the more.
1 The crimson deepen’d orther cheek,
' Hg _Her blue eyes shone more clear,
And__every day she grew more weak,
And every hour more dear.
Her childhood was a happy time,
The loving and beloved;
Yon sky, which was her native clime,
Hath but its own removed.
This earth was not for one to whom
Nothing of earth was given ;
’Twas but a resting place, her tomb,
Between the world and Heaven.
From the Southern L'£tcrar_y Dlcssrngcr.
TRUTH AND FALSEIIOOD.
BY R. 11. wiLi)i:.
Tbere’s a tuneful river,
In Erin’s Isle,—
\Vherc the suubeatus quiver
In silvery smile ;
\Vhcrc the leaves that fall
’Ncatli the Autumn sky,
Grow geiii-like all,
And never die;
And such is the stream, by Truth enlightened,
That leaves the breast by \Visdoni bright.encd,
\Viiere even the joys that the storms dissevcr,
Arc turned to gents that flow for ever.
Thcre‘s a darkling tide
In the Indian clinic,
3y whose hcrblcss side
There's a snlpliury slime—
To the flower that it touches.
A scorching wavc—
To the bird that approaches,
A wcltcring gr..ve:——
And sttcli are the waters of bitterness rising
In the desert bosom of dark Disguisiug;
And the birds of Joy, and the flowers ofl:‘ccling,
Must perish, wherever that wave is stealittg.
A TALE OF TRUTH.
Tlllfl IIAT'I‘LlCSi\'AKIC I"I UNTIC R.
B)’ J. ti. wiii'r'rii-zit.
“Until my ghastly tale is told
This heart. within me burns.”
fl?/tinu: oft/re .r'.lII€’tit.’I2./. ]l'[ur.71zcr.
During a delightful excursion in the vicini‘l_\'
ofthe Lirecn Blountains, a few years since, I
had the good fortune to meet with a singular
character, known in many parts of \-Icrmont as
the Ilattlcsuake Ilunter. .It was a warm, clear
day ofsunsliinc, in the middle of June, that I
BY VVIVI. G. HYER.
PRINCI PLICS AN 1) MEN.
PER Anivtjru.
VOL. 18.
tciied an instant, and then a tear crosssed his
brown check—-“my wife accompanied me, young
and delicate and beautiful as she was, to this
wild and rude coutitry. I never shall forgive
myself for bringing her hithe'r—never. Young
man,” he contitiued, “yoti look like one who
could pity me. You shall see the image of the
girl who followed me to the new country.” And
he unbound, as he spoke, a ribband from his
neck, with a small miniature attached to it.”
It was that of a beautiful female. She might
have been twenty years of age ; but there was
an almost childish expression in her countenance
—a softness, a delicacy, and sweetness of smile
—wliieh I have seldom seen in the features of
those who have tasted, even slightly, of the bit-
ter waters of existence. The old man watched
my countenance intently, as I surveyed the im-
age of his early love. “She must have been
very beautiful,” I said, as I returned the pic-
ture.
“Beautiful 3” he repeated ; “yeti may well
say so. Buttliis avails nothing. I have a fear-
ful story to tell : would to God I had not attempt-
ed it: But I will go on. My heart has been
stretched too often on the rack ofmeniory to suf-
fer any new pang.
“\Ve had resided in the new country nearly
a year. Our settlements had increased rapidly,
and the comforts and delicacies of life were be-
ginning to be felt, after the weary privations and
severe trials to which we had been subjected.—-
’l‘hc red men were few, and did not molest us.
The beasts of the forest and mountain were fe-
rocious, but we suffered lit.tle from them. The
only immediate danger to which we were expo-
sed resulted from the rattlesuakes which iiifes-
tcd ottr neighborhood. Three or four ofthe set-
tlers were bitten by them, and died in terrible
agonies. The Indians often told us friglitftil
stories of this snake, and its powers of fasciiia~
tion, and although they were generally believed,
yet for myself, I confess, I was rather amused
than convinced by their legends.
“In one of my hunting e.\'cur._-‘ions abroad, on
a fine iiiorniiig-—it was just at this time of the
ycar—I was accompanied by my wife. ’Twas
a beautiful morning. The sunshine was warm,
but the atmosphere was pcrfctly clear aml a
line breeze from the northwest shook the bright
green leaves which clothed to profusion the
wrcathing branches above us. I had left my
companion for a short time in pursuit of game;
and in climbing a rugged ledge of rocks, inter-
spcrscd with shrubs and dwarfish trees, I was
startled by a quick, grating rattle. Ilooked for-
ward. On the edge of a loosened rock lay a
large ratt.lcsnake, coiling himself, as if for the
deadly spring. He was within a few feet of
me, and I pattscd for an instant to survey him.
I know not why, but I stood still, and looked at
the deadly serpent with a strange feeling of eti-
riosity. Suddcnly he unwound his coil, as if
rclcntiug from his purpose of hostility, and rais-
ing his ltead, he fixed his bright, fiery eye di-
rcctly upon my own. A chilling and inde-
scribable sensation, totally different from any
thing I had ever before experienced, followed
this movement of the serpent; butI stood still,
and gazed steadily and ‘earnestly, for at that
5”-_.‘---__l_iE_ni_J:...“£bn“fi‘;ST_>l_‘lIl'l_(i. while t=iigagc«|
‘tiiometiifliere was a visatile change in the rep-
NOIFVVALK, TUEi§'§}r%.Y, JEINE 9, E8335.
fallen angel—the immediate ministers of the in-
feriial God 1”
Years have passed, since my interview with
the rattlesnake hunter. The place of his abode
has changed: a beautiful village rises ticar the
spot where we had the conference. and the grass
of the churchyard has grown over the grave of
the old hunter: but his story is yet fixed upon
my mind, and time, like enamel, only burns
deeper the first strong impression. It comes up
before me like a remembered dream, whose fea-
tures are too horrible for reality.
THE IVIORALIST.
PHILOSOPHY A.ND INDEI’EN])ENCE.
“You can't make me believe that folks who
have their five thousand dollars a year an’t. any
happier than I am,” said fartncr Jones to his
neighbor Bond.
“\Ve.ll, then, I shan’t try,” said neiglihor
Bond, very quietly knocking the ashes out of
his pipe, and wiping his mouth for a draught of
cider, “If any man likes to think providence
has dealt over hard with him, he may ltavc the
comfort of it for all me.” “Tlierc’s no getting
round you neighbor Bond,” said farmc_r Jones;
but tell me now honestly, shouldn’t you be wil-
ling to leave oil" working, and take fifty tlion-
sand dollars, ifit were offered to you '1” “Very
like I might; for, as aunt Betty says, ‘there is a
great deal of human nature in man ;’ but I hope
the temptation won’t come in my way, for I
shouldn’t be as happy as I am now.” “You
wonldn’t be obliged to work then neighboi'.”—
“No, and ifl wasnot obliged to work I shouldn’t
work, and then I am stire I shouldn’t be con-
tented ; I have had a bit of experience this way,
Mr. Jones, though I never was over and above
rich. I’ll tell yeti my experience: Dick Brown
and I (you know rich Dick Brown) were boys
together—a couple of as poor and as merry be-
ings as evcr capercd to Yztiiltce doodle. Dick
atid I never had but one light, though we were
always together, and that aunt Betty has often
told me was all owitig to the sinful upliftings of
my nature. A sick gciitleuian came to our
house on horseback, and fat.hcr told one of us
boys to go to the tavern and buy some gin for
him. The tavern was three qtiartcrs of a mile
oil, the road lay through a pokerish bit. of a wood,
and it was beginning to be dark. My ltrothcr
had had a parcel of ‘raw head and bloody bones’
stories told him, and he didn’t altogether like the
tiot.ion of going. You must. ktiow, neighbor
Jones, that, man and boy, I have always been
over and above willing to be brave by ])ro.ry/, as
they call it. So says I to Jim, looking as fierce.
as a btillet at the titiie, “now Jim, an’t yott
ashamed of yourselfto be scared ‘.7 I had just as
liefgo through them ’ere woods, as to go to bed”
My father laughed, and looked sort ofmischicv-
“VVell, \Vill, suppose you go then,” said
4
ous.
be. He might just as well have shot me dead
as to have said them words. But, thinks I,
.lim’ll crow, and Dtck’ll laugh, so I may as well
stand to my word. It was but a boy’s motive,
neighbor Jones; btit if you will show me a rnan
who was never governed byjust such a inotive,
‘ ‘ ..u..
them. My eldest son goes a representative from
our town ; and my daugltt.ci's are all well mar-
ried. Sometimes they tell me thcy \\'l:ll I
would itot work so hard, btit I say to ’cm, “.l’vc
learnt wisdom by cxpcricncc—lct them be idle
that like it. Ilere I’ll dig till you have to dig a
new home for me.” “But, neighbor lfioinl,”
said Jones, “it makes tne mud to see them rulllo
shirt gctitr_y there in Boston, with their white
waistbantls, walking by the market so stately-
likc, as they was afraid my breath would spoil
their new broadcloth. Don’t it raise your old
Adam, neighbor Bond 7” “Not a bit, man-—-not
a bit.; Ioftcit look over my shoulder at them
and laugh, as I say to myself, “'\\'licit a man
has nothing to do, it uitist be a great comfort to
think he is of -to much cotiscqucncc.” "\\'cll
neighbor Bond, you are a happy man. For
my part, ldon’t like tobc lordcd over.” “Lord-
etl ovcrl Ilcavcn help thee, man! we lord it
over them. .I should like to know what mea-
thc cottutry have a mind to vote against tlu.-in "l
The honest, hard-\voi‘king"mtn, "who take a
newspaper home, and read it with cznitlid minds
in the bosorns ofindustrious faitiilic-:3-tlicse are
the men to save the nation, when the nation is
in danger. I am proud of my station, sir, and
I’ll try to rise my power well. There are good
folks among the rich. as well as the poor. It
makes a man neither hcttcr nor worse to be it
gentleman, provided he hasa taste for it. Jfthc
gentry, as you call ’ctn, vote for what is fair, I’ll
vote with them; and if they want to vote for
any thing‘ that. will opprc:-"s the people, I guess
thcy’ll fiiul they aint ofso tnuch cottr.-'('qt!t.‘11(;'C as
they think they are. Let. the upstarts among
’em enjoy lld('ll‘ fine clothes as little fianimy does
his rattle; and if they have a mind to take the
the trouble, let them tell forty lies a wcekto hide
that their grantlfatlier made leather brocclics for
a living. \\"hat do I care Ll Can't ll’ know that.
I am the liappicst of the two? .»\n"t I as free .7
.~.\nd havn’t l. as much weight in the Govern-
ment as they have I!” “You talk like abook,
Mr. Bond; httt after all, I don’t like to see their
carriages and footmcii rolling by niy old hay
cart.” “Very lilac. very like, neighbor Joiics;
for, as ./‘s.1nit Betty says, t.lierc is a grcatdcal of
human nature in man.”
l‘d{EE§C.EiLI.A NY.
MULLED SACK.
John Cottington, better known by the name
of Mnlled Sack, was one ofthe most. notorious
highwayincii this country has produced. Ile
was the son of a liabcrdashcr in Clicapsidc, who
haxing exlianstcd his property dicd poor, and
was buried by theparisli, leaving liftccn dangli-
tors and four sons, of whom our hero was the
youngest. At eight years ofagc. he was put up-
prentice to acltiuniey—swecper ofBfarry-le--bone,
with whom he rcuiaitied about five yeai‘s: as
-soon as he entered his teens he ran away; and
soon afterwards received the name (by which he
was i ‘st ltiiowti) ofi‘tI.ullcd Sack, from his drink-
ing sack inttllctl, morning, noon, and niglit To
.=tqqicv't. :1 life ol'tli.-‘siputioii, he turned pickpock-
ct.; and one of his first robberies of this sort \\ as
sure they can carry, if the lioucst ycoinaury of
. i 310
ance."—Tlie obliging laiullord smiled and CO1Tl-
plicd; and after follo\virig the . course given to
the conversation by the .-‘tranger for some half-
honr, all the while awaiting the pi‘oinis.cd deve-
lopment ofthe plan, be perceived that the stran-
ger was, to use a linniliar expression, “buttoning
up fora bolt,” tmd inaking the be.st, of his way
lin‘ the door.——“liut, sir,” cxclziiiricd \Vood, “you
promised to let me itito a secret of sonic con.-:.c-
qncnce, and you littvc. not said a word about it,”
"‘Iilt:ss me I” said the gentleman, with his hand
on the door, “that's very trnc—-so I did. Very
glad you mcntioitod it! The fact is, we are all
liable to misfortttue; and ifcver you are sent to
the treadmill, take the step nearest the wall:
_vou’ll find it by far the cztsicst part ofthe whccl.
flood evening. You'll hear from me in a day
or so.” Strange to say, the dinner has not l;i-on
heard Ufsltice.-—-—Ift'ttset"s Magtizinc for April.
fm7ir.'It Qt/(ll/.'(,'I'.s' or Stir/.s.——'I‘lic people ofthis
scct, chiefly traders, (though sortie are 7.tllltil'l—
dais, cultivators. and artisans,) seem to be thin-
ly f5L‘tll|Cl‘(,‘tl over the I_’:riti.sli pt'oviiiccs; and th'.'\’
tncct annually during the !:lno/,_r/ at such places
as thcir leaders choose to select. On the present
occasion, about tlircc thou.-and per.-sons ofbotli
$('.\'(‘.S and various ages asscinblcd at Delhi.-—
Tin-ir head quarters. distittgttislictl by a double-
polcd tent, wcrc in otn: of the serais of Trevcl—
yanporc, wltcre the Nit:/.5 obscrvct_l the ccrcrno-
niuls of their religion, at sunrise and sunset, for
several days. The whole congrcgmion at tlic.~;.e
hours, forining a sort uft.‘it‘(:lc, 1'uj)c,'-itctl a fijrnj
pl prayer, and chanted a hynm in the open air.
.l‘he sacred hook oftlurirfuitli, (called simply
.l’0//icc,) they informed me was rcatl and ex-
pounded in the tent by an individual elected for
life, or dn ring good behaviour, whom they would
not tlesiguatc Ur/'00, 1):/Ill./‘Z./, or .1’:/r/rcc, so that
l conclude he is accounted a laytnan. From
this person I learned the lidlowiug particulars
respecting the tenets ofthe Stir/.5 which he said
were enjoined in their .s(-riplures. The 5'."/rf.s'
worship only one God, the Creator of all things,
and disowu every kind ofidolatry. They main-
tain the equality ofinzm, make obt-isancc to
to none, and recognise no distinction of caste or
rank, though they profess homage to virtue, and
show contempt for vice, in their conduct to-
wards others. They are not pcrtnittcd to serve
as soldiers, nor to use artns for ollcnsivc purpos-
cs; but it is allowable liir them to light in self-
dcfcncc. The tlrcss of the men must be entire-
ly white, and ornaments of gold and silver are
tltouglit indccentin mules; butthc woman it an-
pcurs, are permitted to \vti-ar some jewels, .'nid
colored clotlics, Ilotli sexes are strictly forbid-
den to out anything that has lived, to get intoxi-
cated, or to smoke tobacco. Sui/9 cannot take
an oath; and in the courts at i‘vlir7.aporc, where
their simple allirniation, I was told, is held
tr-quivalcnt. Every one ofthis crccd must earn
a livelihood by honest inc: is. If rcdnccd to
poverty tln'ough iulirniity or inevitable misfor-
tune, he is supported by his brctlircn in faith,
who cxpcl him, liowcvci‘, if his dcstitution arist-
from iudolcnce or niisconduct. A .'\‘//.r./, can ll.'l\'(.'
but one wife, aitd she only one husband. Adul-
tery or concnbinagc in either ofthern is .-:cvcrc-
ly punishod. In regard to a future state, they
and this singular mode oft.-urc lasted above four
' " ' I ' \ \ - - -.
w eons,‘ when the patttnt fell down cxhau:-tcd,
and being quite unable to stand, was caniml to
an hospital, where she recovered. She roma‘;,,_
gartlless ofthe pain ofhcr laccratcd feet, she
had nicrclv sat down occasionally toitakésoine
rctrcs_~lniiciit, or to slumber, during which the
hopping iiirweiiieiit of her body comim;cd_.__
I-Iackcr s l:.pidt.-mics of the Middle Ages.
\VAsiii.\'t:'i‘o.\'.—.»kt the period of \Vashinn-
'.on’s presidency, during which the GOV€l‘I)ll]t.‘Tll.
was located in l.’hiladclpltiu, there was a watch-
maker named Stillas, who occupied the house at
the west corner of Front and Chcsnm streets,
and kept one of the first regulators in the city.
The President resided on the south side corner
of Markct—strrct, a few doors below Sixth, which
was then quite at the west end ofthe town_.__
The General ttscd every now and then to take a
walk down Market to Front street, and down
l.f‘ront. street to Stillas’ corner to set his watch.
Our inliiriiiant who was then a boy, lived in the
neighborhood ofthat corner, which was then, as
110“? :1 stand for drayincn, who were (:XCCCtlll]0‘-
ly noisy and turbulent. No sooner, ll()\\’C\’(’.'<-ll‘,
did \Vashiugton approach than every man of
1ll(.‘lI1.l'USC up, took off his hat, and stood uncov-
ered ui perfect silence while the watch was get-
{mg 56‘. which having completed, the Gcndral
invariably took olliliishat, and made a respect-
ful bow to the draymcu, before proceeding on his
walk, leaving them all, no doubt, Ullegrlntr in
their hearts, “thcrc’s a real gentleman for ygu.”
It was his univcrsttl custom to return the saluta-
110H of cyery ope who bowed to him, however
lmmblc in .SlZ1.ll()H, or whetlicr white or black,
upon the principle that no one should be more
polite than himself; and by a strict observance
of that simple ceremony, he made a lastiugin1-
prcssioti upon the people, witltottt intp.'tii'it:g, in
the sliglitcst degree, the claims to respect to
which he was cutitlcd front his station and ex-
altcd virttn-s. It has been ottr good forttine to
have seen all the I’rcsidents ofthb Ifnited States,
l.)tl-l, we can never think of i\Va.s'lIltt_,'__l‘t0i1 without
being satisfietl that “we ue’cr shall look upon his
like again.”—I’hilad. Gaz.
A l"U.\'~.\'Y i\:l.\.\'.——Il«‘tiii is to me what ale was
to Boniface. I sleep upon fun—l drink for fun
fl. live upon futi; ltcnce our dear fuunv friends
just SLlll.lllB; they do nothing but l£1ll_‘_’,-ll; they
laugh to///t one when present, and at one whcii
abst-n.t—lmt to me that is the fun. I adtnit my-
self fond of practical joking——.l. don’t mean in
onc’s own particular circlc—i-there it is danger-
<WS a people are not always in the same humor;
what they think uucoininouly good futi one day,
t’ltcy will st-rioti..-ly resent as an insult the next.
lhcre’s uojtnlgnig with certainty a man’s tcin-
pcr of mind, ' nd it is not easy to ascertain how
tnitcli melted butter a gciitleinaii would like to
liave put in his coat pocket without kicking; I
:i\=op_l that sort ofthing; ll|_l[()l] the ‘r:7_r(;,'_1[scu_l(-., I
cotucss my addiction. Coming here yesterday
*""t“l||1t.‘._'. I stopped the cliaise at the corner of
l':';.’l”-'1“: ltl order to turn the finger post at the
corner half rounr.l; scnt all the people bound
for London to (,'ln.-rtscy, all the people tlostinctl
for .lCgliain to \Vindsor, and all the people (195.
fitted for \\’indsor to London——that’s my way.
l"ve whipped off every kuocltcr in Sloan street
ingltts rumiing-—a lllllltll'(,'t_l and ninety-four, ex-
clttsi\'c ofsltops; and if ever the project of light-
ing London with smoke should be brotigltt
to bear, .l. flatter myself you will hear of my
dtnkcning the whole [).'ll‘l:_~'lI of I’auci'a.s, by _L1l‘l1lLl-
ing a gitnblct hole through a gas pipe! These
li'olit;s cost something occasionally, but what of
that .7 I‘l\(f‘.l‘y man lias his [ittt‘sttits;—I have mine.
-— '1 '/tcmfo/‘c 1;i'ou/t‘.
C-'/triuu.s- ()riz;'/t.’r;l CI/.5‘/0IIl.——/\I‘l'tUXlf_‘{ Solomon’s
lessons and proverbs addressed to the fair sex,
the fbllotting comparison, sound strange to a
reader who has never bccti intelligible :—“As a
jewel ofgoltl in a s\vinc’.~; snout, so is :1‘ fair we.
limit who is without discretion.” Nearly all
the females of the East wear ajcwol of gold in
tin ir tiostrils, or in the .‘:t‘,plUlTl oftho nose ; and
sonic of them are cxcccditig beautiful, atid of
great value. The oricntal lady looks with as
cd in her clothes all the titnc, and entirely re-.
bclicve the righteous to enjoy liappittcss in the
presence of the A.ln'nght.y, and the souls of the
in the ,\v5ix;pf politics, business, and such like, I
. . . . . . 1;; - lips V . . 1
W1” tell you ma, mm, ,3 wk ., m hVe1m,,d,cd_ nth pit. l,ltI'C‘ on the _:_v_<,in xvluch tdotns llCl'_W
1"’-5*‘: as any of her sex in this country do ‘U11-’ 1*‘ ’:r-T--s
in a ntiiici'\alogical'ramble atnongst the lllllSL:—-
. , tile. Ilia‘ form seemed to 0row l'u' er "ind his
Ilis head was bald, and lnsforcltcad was deeply I b I g i (
commitcd oti Lady lfairfax, from whom he got.
I3ttt...5t< itliat
' marked with the strong lines ofcarc _and agc.——
Ilis fortn was wasted and meagre, and, but for
the fiery vigor of his eye, he might have been
supposed incapacitated byago and ll]fll‘l‘llllt_'-S for
.cveti a slight exertion. Yet he lmrried over the
rude ledges of i'ocks with a quick and almost.
youthful tread ; and seemed earnestly searching
among the crevices atid loose crags and stintcd
bushes around him. All atonce he started sini-
'dcnly, drew liitnsclfback with a sort ofsln.idder-
ing recoil, and then smote liercely with his staff
'1l.l_p:)l1 the rock beforchim. Another and another
blow, and he lifted the lithe and ci'u.-:bed form of
a large rattlesnake upon the end of his rod.
The old man's eye glistcued, buthis lip trem-
bled, as he looked upon his yet writhing victim.
“A-notlicrol the accursed race!” he tnuttercd
between his clenched teeth, apparctitly uncoi1-
scious ofiny presence. ‘
I was now satisfied that the person before ttie
was none other than the famous rattlesnake lniti-
ter. He was known throughout the neighbor-
hood as ati outcast and a wanderer, obtaining a
miserable subsistence frotn the casual charities
of the people around him. His time was most-
ly spent among the rocks and rude hills, where
his only object seemed to be the hunting out and
destroying of the dreadful cro talus Itotraclus, or
\ rattlesnake. I immediately determined to satis-
fy my curiosity, which had been strangely exci-
ted by the remarkable appearance and behavior
‘ of the stranger. For this purpose I approached
hitn.
l“A re there many of these reptiles in this vi-
cinity?” Inquircd I, pointing, to the serpent.
“They are getting to be scarce,” said the old
man, lifting his slouclied hat, and wiping his
bald brow; “I have known the time when yeti
could hardly stir ten rods from your door in this
v part ofthe state without hearing their low, qttiek
' rattle at your side, or seeing their many colored
bodies coiling up in your path. But, as I said
before, they are getting to be scarce. The iii-
fernal race will be extinct in a few years; and,
thank God, I have riiysclf been a considerable
cause oftlieir extermination.” ‘
“You must, of eotirse, know the nature of
these creatures perfectly well,” said I. “Do
you believe in their power of fascination T”
The old man’s countenance fell. There was
a visable struggle of feeling within him; for his
. lip quivcred, and he dashed hisbrown hand sini-
‘ rlcnly across his eyes, as ifto conceal, a tear.-
, But quickly recovcritig himself, he answered, in
' the low, deep voice of one about to reveal some
horrible secret.
“I believe in the rattlcsnakc’s power of fascin-
ation as firmly as in my own existence.”
“Surely.” Said I, “you donot believe that they
«_havc power over human beings.”
- “J do—-—l know it to be so!” and the old man
trembled as he spoke. “Yeti are a stranger to
~ me,” be said slowly, after scrutinizing my fea-
lures for a rnomcnt: “but if you will go down
with me to the foot of this rock, in the shade
t.lic-re,” and he point.ed to a group oflcauing oaks,
__tli:-it hung over the dcclivity, “I will tell you :1
~ strange and sad story of my experience.”
It may be supposed that I readily assented to
this proposal. lcstowing otic more blow on
_ the rattlesnake, as ifto be certain of it.s deruh,
-' the old man descended the rocks with a rapidity
that would have endangered the neck of a less
practised hiint.er. Aftdr reaching thcplacc that
; he had pointed out, the rattlesnake hunter com-
, mcflccd INS Story in a manner which confirmed
Ti what I had previously heard of‘ his cilucmimi
_~_ and intellectual strength.
, “I was among the earliest settlers in this part
’ Ofllte country. I had just finished my educa-
.tton at the uuiversary of Ilarvard, when I was
-».-...-. . :-
- .-;x..-_i.a2.. -.
-.-..
v~.._.:
itiilttced, by the flattering )'CpI‘(‘:SCnl,ali()ns ofsomc
of the earlier pioneers into the wild lands beyond
the Connecticut, to seek my fortune in thcincw
My wife”——thc old man's eye glis-
settlements.
colors brighter. His body moved with a slow,
almost imperceptible motion, towards me, and
a low hum of music came from him—so, at least,
it sounded in my ear—-a strange, sweet melody,
faint as that which melts from the throat of the
lnnnming bird. Then the tints ofhis body deep-
cued, and changed and glowed like the changes
of a beautiful kaleidoscope, green, purple, and
gold, until I lost sight of the serpent entirely,
atid saw only wild and curiously woven circle:
ofstrangc colors, quivering around irielikefl"
atmosplicrc of rainbows. Iscemed in the 0911'
tre ofa great. prisin—a world of myster-'\’US C0‘
lors; and the tints varied and tl{ll'l(€I]€tl,4nd light-
ed up again around me, and the low MUSIC We'll-
on without ceasing, until my brat'11l‘€'6l€(lo and
fear for the first time came like £1 Shadow OVGI‘
lllc. The new sensation gained upon me rapidly.
and I could feel the cold sweat gushing from my
brow. I had no certainty of danger in my mind
._,,0 definite idea 0fpcri1—-all was vague and
clouded, like the unaccountable terrors of a
dream; and yet my limbs shook, and I fancied
I could feel the blood stiffening with cold, as it
passed through my veins. I would have given
worlds to have been able to tear myself from the
spot: I even attempted to do so, but the body
obeyed not tlieimpulsc oftlieinind. Nota mus-
cle stirred, atid I stood still, as ifmy feet had
grown to the solid rock, with the infernal music
of the tempter in my ear, and the baleful color-
ings of his encliantmcnt still before me.
“Suddenly a new sound came on my ear—it
was a human voicc—but it seemed strange and
awful. Again—again——but I stirred not; and
tbeti a white form plunged before me, and grasp-
ed my arm. The horrible spell was at once
broken. The strange colors passed from before
my vision. The rattlesnake was coiling at my
very feet, whith glowing eyes and uplifted fangs,
and my wife was clinging with terror upon me.
The next instant the serpent threw himself upon
us. My wife was the victim ! The fatal fangs
pierced deeply into her hand; and her scream
ofagony, as she staggered backwards‘ from me,
told the dreadful truth.
“Then it was that a feeling of madtiess came
upon me; and when I saw the foul serpent
stealing away from his work of death, reckless
of danger I sprang forward and crushed him tin-
der my fcet, grinding liitn in pieces upon the
ragged rocks. The groans ofiny wife now rc-
callcd me to her side, and to the horrible reality
ofhcr sitiiation. There was a dark, livid spot
on her hand, and it deepened into blackness as I
led her away. \Ve were at a considerable dis-
tance from any dwelling, and after wandering
for a short time, the pain of her wound became
insupportable to my wife, and she swooncd
away in my arms. Weak and exhausted as I
was, I had yet strength enough remaining to
carry her, to the nearest rivulet, and bathe her
brow in the cool water. She partially recover-
ed, and sat down upon the bank, while I support-
ed her head upon my bosom. Hour after hour
passed away, and none came near us; and
there, alone, in the great wilderness, I watched
over her, and prayed with her, and she died!”
The old man groaned audibly, as he uttered
these words; and, as he clasped his long bony
hands over his eyes, I could see the tears falling
thickly through his gaunt fingers. A.fte_r‘a mo-
mentary struggle with his feelings, he lifted his
head once more, and there was a fierce light in
his eye as ltc spoke.
“But I have had my revenge. From that
fatal moment I have felt. myself fitted and set
apart,by the terrible ordeal ofafiliction, to rid the
place of tny abode ofits foulest curse. And I
have well nigh succeeded. The fascinating de-
mons are already few atid powerless. Do not
imagine,” said he, earnestly regarding the some-
what equivocal expression of my rzountenanee,
“that I consider these creatures as serpents only
-crc-oping serpents; they are the servants ofthe
\Vc]] off] 59;).-npered, barefoot, over me nartt
frosty ground, seeing a witch on every black
stump, and a ghost in every bush ; bought my
gin, and was back to tathei’s as quick as a pa-
rem shuttle. I guess the gentleman knew how
we (use stood; for he took out a fourpence and
gaie it to me with a smile. My quarrel with
_T1ick Brown was about this fourpcnce. I tell
you money has its evils. The first money I
ever get made me insolent. I showed Dick my
fottrpencc, and called him a poor ragamuilin.
"Dick knocked me down, and we didn’t speak
for a fortnight. \Ve made up afterwards; and
Dick often went with me to look at the silver
bit I ltad locked up in my little box. Dick and
I went apprentice afterwards, he to a shopkeep-
er, and l to a blacksmith.
the world, andbegan to look npoii a fourpenny
bit as a small concern. Dick t.urned out the
most prosperous of the two; lie‘s got his conti-
try seat, and his carriage, and sent ten boys to
college. But I’d bet a beaver that he’d be glad
to go back to the time he knocked me down a-
bout the fourpencc. He has got into a dreadful
uneasy way—tliinks he has got a thousand coin-
plaiiits which never came near him, and that his
sons are going to bring him to the alnislionse.
He has some reason for that, poor man, for they
are aset of scrape gaces sure enough. They
never caraccl any money, poorlads! how should
they know the worth ofit? They don‘t take to
books, and their father makes ’em go through
college for the name of it—wliat can the poor
fellows do with their time. without they have a
high go now and then. \Ve ought to have a deal
of compassion and charity for the rich, neighbor
Jones. I was going to tell about Dick’s liotise
and furniture; I ltad a pretty sum of money, so
Ithouglit ].’d turn geiitleniati too. I gave up
business, bought two horses and a sofa. I was
idle, and I called it being at ease; but not a
speck of case could I find. I had my chimneys
pulled down four times. My wife said there
was nothing the mattc.r with them, but I said
there was. However, it was bad business to pull
down chimneys for a living, so I gave that up.
The wind and the weather furnished me with
considerable occupation. I watched the weath-
ercock as close as I ever watched my anvil;
and there was no small comfort in grumbling a-
bout the dry and wet spells which I said were
going to ruin the farm. Having no business of
my own, I kept an eye upon other people’s. I
thought I was a pretty close observer, and I de-
clared, as lazy folks always do, that the world
was going to destruction as fast as it could go;
but the world didn’t mind me, so I gave that up.
I wanted to complain to my ueiglibors, but they
hadn't time to hear me. “Then I talked to my
wife, she kept on her knitting, and only said, “I
always told you, you was a fool for giving up
your business.” If Iliad any real calamity, I
might have been pretty well oil", though I had
too much money. My eldest son grew very
fat, and for a long time I worried tnyself every
night for fear he would be attacked by apoplcxy;
butiiist.cad of taking lits he took to politics——aud I
could soon count his ribs. It was too bad, with
all my whims and notions, I could get nothing
to think about. I could not take my. favorite
walk without having the cast wind to blow in
my face. Folks catne to me for my money, and
I let tliciri have it because ll: did not know what
to do with it myself-—-there was a real satisl".ic-
tioii in being of use to sotnebody. Ilow did I
watch for my bills to become due! Many a time
I’vc had breakfast an hour earlier than counnon,
and set ottt on a brisk trot to pay a rnccltanic
who lived ten rods from my door.”
“But how did your money hold out, neighbor
Bond?” said Jones. ‘‘I desire to be thankful,
neighbor Jones, the barrel soon run low at the
bung hole. I had to go to work again, and now,
I am a happy man sir. My children all behave
well, for I didn’t play rich long enough to spoil
\Ve both got up in ,
afterwards so numerous, that his biograplicrs
state “the many various tricks Mullcd Sack
played upon I.udg'ate-liill, by making stops of
coaches and carts; and the money that he and
his consorts got there by picking pockets, would
have been almost enough to have built St. Paul’s
Cathcdra.”
Mullcd Sack was detected in pickingtho pocket
of Oliver Cromwell as he came out ofthe Par-
liament House, but escaped hanging by the po-
litical changes ofthe times. Ile next turned
highwayinan, and was so audacious as to rob
Col. Ilcwson when inarcliing over Ilonnslow at
the head ofhis regiment, in company with one
Tom Cheney. They were pursued by a body
of troopers: Mulled Sack escaped, but his coin-
paiiion, after defending himself against eighteen
horsemen, was overpowered and taken : he as
tried at Old Bailey, convicted, and executed
at Tyburn. Mullcd Sack afterwards, along
with several other of his companions, waylaitl
a wagon which was conveying -1000! to Oxford
and Gloucester, and seized the money, which
they soon spent: he also robbed the house ofthe
'Receivcr—Gencral oflicading of 6000!, which
he was preparing" to send tip to town. For this
offence, Mulled Sack, who was taken, was tried
at Ileadiug, but acqtiitted—-it is said, by bribing
thejury. He had not been long at liberty be-
fore he killcd one John Bridges, for which he
was obliged to quit the kingdoni, and wcntto
Cologne, where be robbed liing Charles II.
tlieu in exile, of as inncli plate as was valued
at 15001. On returning to Iiugland, he promis-
ed to give Oliver Cromwell some ofhis Majes-
t.y’s papers, but, says his biographer, “not mak-
ing good his promise, he was sent to Newgatc,
and receiving sentence of death, was hanged iti
Smithlield rounds in April 1659, aged fifty-live
years. .
Our engraving is copied from an old prnit, bc-
ueath which is the following inscription :
‘l walke the Strand and \Vestministcrand scornc
To niurclit’ the cittie; thougli .l. bcarc the borne,
My feather atid iiiy yellow band accord
To prove mccourtier, my boots spur, and sword,
My smoking pipe scarf, garter, rose on shoe,
Sliowc my brave minds t’ affect what gallautsdo,
I siuge, dance, drinkc, and merrily pass the day,
And like a chitnny sweep all care away.”
Good aclt'icc_for a J)£m1cr.—-A gentleman:
humbly clad in a curacy—coat, one day entered
\VootlTs Hotel, Clare Market, and ordered a sort
of diinier lunch in the shape of unlimited mut-
ton-chops, and potatoes to coi't'c;I=poml; not for-
gctting suitable fitiids, porter, brandy, t‘\,'c.-—
All these things disposed of, the gentleman call-
ed the wait.er, and thus addressed him; “My
friend I have fared sumptuottslyl good IJOHSC.
t.his——capital cliops—porter adtitirablc——ln'andy
cxqttisitcl Slight dillicttlt.y, liowcver-—lu.tvcn:t
a shilling about me l—Awkward, ratlier, ’tts
true: perhaps not oftnuch coriscqueucc till to-
tnorrow I” “\Vlty sir,” qtiotlt the waiter, with
the “much more easily conceived than express-
ed" exaltatiou ofthe eyebrows, “\Vliy, sir, .l’ll
call inustcr.” N:ist.cr was accordingly called.
Ile came——bowcd—retnoustratcd——t:ompluinod
._l,ur nt)\'(‘.l‘Llll'C1llt)ll()tl. The gcntcltnan, ino\'-
ed bysuch forbearance,said, “I think that I may
be of service to you. I could tell you of a plan
which, if properly pursued, would be produc-
tive of the liuppicst. i'i.-sults to you, not only in
the way of _gt_~iict'al l:tisitn-ss, but also as t‘t-g;'i'tls
your personal comfort. I’r:ty he scutcd; .l can't
bear to see you stand ; indccd, if .I \\tcrc not so
en'ibai'rassiugly :1=itttu;ctl, I should insist. on your
taking :1 glttss of wine with me. _lIU\\'t‘\'(_'l' pct’-
haps you'll :tgrce with tho proverb-—‘lu fora
penny, in lot‘ a pound ;’ so pray luing gt bottle
of your l)(,f:‘l. port, atul a wine glass for yottr.~~'elf,
and we-‘ll talk over this inattcr. I don't think
you’ll see cause to n‘-gi‘ct making my acquaint-
ia ric-ii gold w'atcn: auo his tleprctlzittoiis * were
wickcdto ti‘anstiiigrate into brutcs. They seem
to have no conception of any othr,-r tit‘-ll than this
cartlily tlcgradation. The ..\'r/r/5 own tlicnisclves
Iliudus in blood, but eagerly disclaim the poly-
thoistn and superstition ofthcir countrymen.-—
They define ati avatar to be an inspired man
contiiiissioitcd by the Deity, though no incarna-
t.ion ofthe G‘-oodliead ; and froiu such a pr-tzsott
they pretend to derive tlieirsacrcd book. They
are tlicist.-7. apparently ofthe Vcdanti school;
whence Nanc, the patriarch of the Scil-;s, as dis-
tinguished from Singlis, or followers of t.lic Guru
Govind, probably derived the peaceful tenets of
a faith by far too refined to endure among bar-
barians. Is not inttch in the creed Oflll(.‘[-’(:'. sects,
as well as that of Mohun Roy, stolen, in San-
scrit fashion,tln‘ough Arabic or s:~n1c other chun-
ncl. from the Greek ofthe Itlpicurcan philoso-
phers? \Vhcn informed ofthe peculiarities ofa
religious order in England who call themselves:
F/‘ic/It/5, the Stir/.5‘, having heard something of
them before, proposed now to hold a special
meeting t.o prepare an address to a sect which so
inncli resembled their own; and, to promote
their intercourse, I have engaged to forward
their connnunication to Joseph I’ease, M. I’.
for Dnrhani.——Delhi (iazctte.
S'r. VrrUs‘s D.»\.\'ci«:.—-.lt was notuntiltlic bc-
gitining ofthe Itith century that the St. Vitus‘s
dance was made the subject of inodical research,
and stripped of its unballowcd character as a
work of deinous. This was effected by I’araccl—
sus, that mighty, but as yet scarcely compre-
hended reformer of medicine, whose anti it was
to withdraw tliseascs from the pale of miracu-
lous iutcrpositions autlsaintly influences, and
explain their cattscs upon principles deduced from
his knowledge ofthe litirnaii frainc. ].’rcvious
to this, the dancing mania of the year 17:51-, was,
in fact, no tiew disease, bttt a phenomenon well
known in the tniddlc ages, of which many. won-
derful stories were traditionally current among
the people. In the year 12:57, upwards of a
hundred children were said to have been sitti-
dculy seized with this disease at Erfurt, and to
have proceeded dancing and jumping along the
road to Arnstadt. \Vhen they arrived at that
place, they fell exhausted to the ground, and,
according to an account of an old Chronicle,
many of t.liem, after they were taken home by
their parents, died, and the rest remained all'cct-
cd to the end of their lives with a permanent
tremor. Another occurrence was related tohavc
taken 1)l«'lt"('.t)lllll(.‘» Mosclle ltritlgc, at Utrcclit,
on the 17th of June, A. _l)., I?,'.'-‘.~‘, when two
litmdred fanzttics began to dance, and would not
desist until a priest passctl who was car-r_ying the
llost to a person that was sick, upon which, as
ifin punishment of their crime, the bridge gave
way, attd they were all drowned. A sitnilur
cvctit also occurred so early as the year IlU,'.’.7,
near the convent-clinrch of Kolbig, not far frotn
Bernlmrg. According to an oft-repeated tradi-
tion,eightecn ])(.‘.'.l$tlIll.<, some of wltosc names are
still preserved, ‘are said to have disturbed divine
service on Christmas eve, by daueingutitl brawl-
ing in the chnrcltyurd. wliereupon the priest,
‘tt.}p.~.;..-tit, inflicted :1 curse upon them, that they
should dance and ..-tcrcuni fora whole year with-
out cea.~:ing. This curse is stated to have been
couiplctt,-ly fullillcd, so that the unlin'tun:ttc suf-
ferers at length sunk kucc-deeep into the earth,
and remained the whole time without uouri._-'h-
mont, until they w ‘re finally i'clcuscd by the iti-
tercession oftwo pious bishops. It is said, that
tipou this they fell into a dead sleep, which last.-
cd three (lays and that lbur of tlicm died; the
rest contitntctl to sulii.-r all their lives from-the
trenil_nliug of their limbs. It is related by ltleiix
l.’latcr, that he retncnibcrctl in his youth the au-
thoriti-rs of liaise having t_-ointitissiotictl soitic
powt-rl't.il Hl‘.‘lt to dance with a girl who had the
those which dcck their cars.
.splcittlui"jc\\'el‘ iii the snout of a swine, so is
beauty in a woinatt without (li.;'ci'ctioii. She
may liavctiie ortnmieiit, her mien may be grace-
ful and her person attractive; butwidioni them,
like a swine \vitli a gem in his nose, wallowing
in the tiiire. The most beautiful ornament ofa
woman is virtuc.”---Tamul proverb.---I{obc1‘ts'8
Oriental lllList.i'atioiis ofthe Scriptures.
A voting man, aged 22, conmiittcd suicide last
weckilcaving behind hiui the following extraor-
dinary epistle :—“I die in the Catholic religion.
I bequeath my mortal rc-inains to my fatherand
mother, regretting that they suffered to grow up.
and tl(:\’€lO[)f,', a crcattirc \vuh a form sotli.sag‘t'ce-
able as their son. Itlinlowctl \\ itli an expansive
mind and tender heart, my face has ever been
frightful to the fair sex. I am tlicrcforc going to
seek in Heaven a society thatwill not be disgust-
ed at my appearance; because I imagine that,
divested ofits flcslty envelope, my spirit will not
alarm the inhabitants ofthe other world. J 1".”
Si.\'oui.Ait Vi-:r.i:1c'r.---A case of assault and
battery has recently been tried at \Villiai'nsbnrg,
Va. in which thejury returned a verdict that the
/tlrti/r/{[]'sltttul(l be taken to the public whipping-
post, and there receive thirty-one lashes on his
bare l):.ttfl~1---illltl that his la\vycr should pay the
cost ofprosccutionl A Virginia paper rcinarks,
that “altliongli this verdict is a novel one in the
liistory of litigation, yet we venture to say it is
just what it ought to be.” The poor lawyer,
we imagine, haiiketl his stars that the whole of
the responsibility” was not [aid on his .5/((/lI[(lC7’So
A.\'i«:cuo'i'ir..——.»". friend has handed us the fol-
lowing anecdote, which he received in a letter
from London. Ilcsignation of oflicc, like death,
cc'rtainly aflbrds us the means of avoiding some
dillicultics.
“Sir Robert I’ccl went to see his Majesty
when the Irish (.lhurch question was about to
come before the Commons, and to nu.-ntion his
fears that it would be carried against him. “It
i__<,” said Sir llobcrt, “:1 hard case upon me.’’—-
“It is harder upon me,” said his Majesty, “for
you can resign, Sir Bobert, but I cannot.”
A learned Jtnlgo, who shall be nameless, while
trying a case during the last circuit, saw justitt
front of hitn a person wearing a hat-—his lord-
ship desir:-d one of the olliccrs to make that mart
either take olfhis hat or leave the court. “My
lord,” said the supposed (tlII‘lltlCl', who turned out
to be a lady in a riding habit atul sinarting bett-:
vcr—-“I am no maul” ‘?Thcn," said his lord-.
ship, “I am no Judge.”
\Vit.\'r is Anis'roCt:.\cv.—In reply to the
(int,-s-tioii what is Aristocracy? General Foy,
adistinguished oratoriii the lfrencli Chambers,
gave the following striking dcfinition—‘~I can tell
what it is, ‘said he; ‘Aristocracy in the Zl‘.)th
century is the league, the coalition oftliose who
would consume without protluciug, live without.
working, kno\v every thing withontlcarniug any
thing, curry away all the honors without having
deserved them, and occupy all the places of
tlovcrnuictit witliont being capable of filling
them.’
An honest rustic went. into the shop ofa Qua-.
ker to buy a hat for which twenty-five shillings
was demanded. Ile ollcretl twenty sltilliugs.
“As l live,” said the Quaker, "I cannot alibrd
to give it thee at that price." "’
“As you live .
(.‘Xt.‘l1tllnCt_l the cotintrynian. “then live_ more
ll'l()(lt'.‘r€llt.‘l_\’, and be hanged to you.” “.l*‘ricnd."
said the Quaker, “thou shalt have the but for.
nothin" ' my trick was never found ottttill now."
:\$
It calculated that in the lffC}‘lCll Army there
t‘.'tttcittg tuauia, till she recovered from her dis-
order. 'I‘lic_v :‘«UC(.'CSi:’l\'Cl_y’ relieved each other;
is one substitute out ofevcry four soldiers and
one volunteer out ofevery twenty.
Norwalk Chronicler