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A FAMILY MWSPAPESfiftf uSl IN POLITICS. 'vi VOLUME I. DtbottJ) to g>c$cn«, Eitatuw, fcctea, JWrdjarate itxtg, ©mpciawe, lMi^||&§3)§ ^feeW.^' ,#o,«JSjii. anJj lioaicsslit HnMMgcjwr, Src. 8re. NUMBER 2. BY S. C. CLISBE, & A. T, BOYNTON. MC'GRAWVILLE, CORTLAND COUNTY, N. Y. AUGUST 19, 1847, [From Headly's Washington and his Generals.] Putnam. At length the die was cast at Concord and Lexington, and the untrained militia had chased British regulars in affright be- fore them. Putnam was then quietly pur- suing his occupations at home; and the next day after the battle a plain New Eng- land farmer might be seen in the field with his oxen and sled dragging stones together, mending his fence. The warm April sun shone down upon his weather-beaten face and all was calm and beautiful as Sprino- ever is. But suddenly a man was seen coming on a furious gallop along the road, beating hurriedly a drum as he rode—the call to arms which thrilled every ear that heard it. Stopping to answer no inquiries, he spurred on and reigned up his panting and foam-covered steed opposite this plain- clad farmer, hurried across the field, and stood breathless with haste and excitement before him. \ The streets of Lexington and Concord have been soaked in blood, and the country is in a blaze !\ Thus ran the fearful tale. Putnam's brow grew dark as wrath at the recital, and leaving his oxen where they stood, he stayed not even to change his farmer's apparel, or bid fare- well to his family, but leaping on his swift- est horse was soon seen tearing alono- the road to Boston. The first blood lhat° was shed roused all the lion within him, and those who saw that rough form fly past, knew that wild work would soon be done. Arriving at Cambridge in twenty four hours, a distance of nearly one hundred miles, he immediately called a council of war, gave his stern voice for war to the last extremity. Fie then hurried to the Assembly of Connecticut, to confer with it on the best mode of carrying on hostilities, and as soon as his business was done, sped back to the army, with the commission of brigadier-general in his hand. The forces kept pouring in from every quarter—'those from each state having an officer of their own to command them, while the move- ments of the whole were conducted by a council of war. Putnam from his long experience in military matters, gradually assumed the general control, until at length he was practically commander-in-chief. BATTLE OF BUNKER HILI/. ' scarcely believe their saw this redoubt almost An immediate battle eye?, when they jteer to show those rascals that the Yankees;the heights, confusing the deadly aim of over their heads, j-can fight. Where shall I be most needed?\ ' the Americans, and covering the assault; was inevitable, for j The former pointed to the redoubt as the ! but the blessed breeze changed, inclining this height commanded Boston; and soon as most covered spot. \Tell me,\ said War-1 it gently seaward, leaving the battle field batteries could be erected there, the city | ren, while his lips quivered with excite-j unobscured and open as ever. Again ment, \where the onset will be the heaviest.\ \ Go then to the redoubt,\ said Putnam, \Prescott is there, and will do his duty—if' we can hold, that, the day is ours.\ Away must fall. A.11 now was bustle and contu- sion, for each one knew that in a few hours a most deadly conflict must take place.— Crowds began to gather on the shore, and . ».. uu .. u ..... u a „ u open ' i the drums beat their hurriec thousands of eager eyes were turned with j galloped Warren, and as he dashed up to intense anxiety,and wonder, upon that low,! the>entrenchinents, aloud huzza rent the dark redoubt that crowned the summit of j air, and rolled in joyful accents along the that hill. In two hours time, all the artile- i lines. ry of the city, and ships of war and float- * Nothing could exceed the grandeur and ing batteries, were pointed against that si- excitement of the scene at this moment Strung over that hill and out ot sight lay fifteen hundred sons of Liberty, coolly awaiting the onset of the veteran thousands of England, and sternly resolved to prove lent structure. The city shook to the thunder of cannon, and that lonely height fairly rocked under the bombs and balls that tore up its sides. It absolutely rained shot and shells upon its top; still all was! worthy of the high dcstiir.es intrusted to silent above and about it; yet one near • their care. The roofs of the houses of enough to catch the sound, could have Boston, th» shores, and every church stee- . heard the heavy blows of the spade and | pie were black with spectators,looking now | pickaxe, and the constant fall of earth, as on the forming columns upon the shore, and those hardy men toiled as they never toiled ( now at the silent intrenchments that span- ' before. Heedless of the iron storm that. ued the heights. Many of them had sons, rattled around them, they continued their and brothers, and husbands, and lovers on , work, and by noon had run a trench'near- the hill, and the hearts of all swelled high ^ly down to the Mystic river on the north, 'or sunk low, with alternate hope and fear, I The fire was too hot to let them work in | as they thought of the strength and terror . the open field near the bank, while Put- . of the coming shock. Oh, how the earnest nam saw at a glance that this must be clos- prayer went up to heaven and with what ed up at all hazards, for the enemy march- intense love and longing each heart turned ing swiftly along that smooth open ground, j to that silent redoubt. At length the Eng- ' could take him in the flank and rear. This 1 lish began to advance in two dense colums. unprotected spot was a meadow, freshly | Putnam then rode along the lines kindling mown, and thickly studded with haycocks, j the enthusiasm of the men already roused all ready to be gathered into-the barn. A i to the highest piioh, and ordered them to'turned single rail funce crossed it from the hill to j hold their fire till the enemy was within the river, of which Putnam with that; eight rods, and then aimat their waistbands. charge, and the columns passed gallantly forward.— Advancing more rapidly than before, they halted only to pour in their heavy vollies. and then hurrying ou over their dead and wounded companions who had fallen in the assault, seemed about to sweep in a re- sistless flood over the intrenchments. On, they came, shaking the heights with their heavy muffled tread till they stood breast to breast with that silent redoubt when suddenly it again gaped and shot forth flame like some huge mon&ter. For a mo- ment it seemed as if the atmosphere was an element of lire.- It was a perfect hur- ricane of fire and lead, and the firm set ranks disappeared like mist in its path.— The living still strove manfully to stem the fight, and the reeling ranks bore up for a vhile amid the carnage, led by as brave officers as ever cheered men on to death. But that fiery sleet kept driving full in their faces, smiting them down rank after rank, with such fearful rapidity, that the bravest gave way. The line bent back- wards, then sprung to their places again, again rolled back; till at last riddled through and through by that astonishing fire, the whole mass gave way like a loos- ened cliff, and broke furiously down the hill. Again the triumphant huzzas rock- ed the heights, and the slopes of that hill red with flowing blood. A sudden silence followed this strange ] uproar, broken only by the smothered the victory was ours. The news spread like wild-fire over the land, and one long shout went up, the first shout of Liberty ; which the human soul heard and answer- ed, and shall answer the world over. quickness of invention he had acquired in On came the steady battalions, ever and , groans and cries of the wounded, lying al- his long partisan warfare, immediately j anon halting to let the artillery play on the j most within reach of the redoubt. On took advantage. He ordered the men to entrenchments, and then advancing in the take the rails from another fence, near by,! m ost perfect order and beautiful array.— 'To the spectator, that artillery appeared lie spectator, like moving spots of flame and smoke as- cending the slope, but not a sound broke the ominous and death-like silence that reigned around the heights. But for the that fatal shore the English commanders rallied for the third and last time their dis- ordered troops, while the Americans, bur- ning with indignation and disappointment, drove home their last cartridges. The scene, the hour, the immense re- sults at stake, all combined now to fill the bosom of every spectator with emotions of While this multitudinous army lay a- round Boston, without any idna of disci- pline except, to shoot straight, or any defi- nite aim beyond the mere determination to fight; the officers who commanded them looking on things in a clear light, were di- vided as to the best course to pursue. Put- nfim, with his usual promptness and bold- ness, and Prescott, were for a battle if they could get the militia behind entrenthments. They thought and justly, that an engage- ment, unless peculiarly disastrous to the Americans, would give them confidence in themselves, and kindle a spirit of resist* ancc throughout the land. The other offi- cers were fearful of a defeat, and dreaded the result of one on the army and country. The bolder council of Putnam and Pres- cott, however, prevailed. The English, in the mean time, feeling the restraint of their position, laid two different plans to advance into the open country, but were in both cases turned back by the precautions of the Americans, who were constantly informed of their movements. At length, abandoning every other project, General Gage directed all his efforts to force a passage by the penin- sula and neck of Charlestown. This po- niasula is little over a mile long, stretching from east to west, washed on the north by the Mystic and on the south by Charles river, while a narrow channel separates it from Boston on the east. The spot where this peninsula joins the main land is only about a hundred yards across, and is call- ed the Neck. From this spot rises Bun- ker's Hill. To prevent the egress of the British by this Neck, the plan of which they had recevied from friends in Boston, the American officers resolved to fortify Bunkers Hill, which completely comman- ded it Colonel Prescott was ordered to occupy this height with a thousand men, and entrench himsel f strongly the re. Hav- ing assembled on the Green at Cambridge, they leaned their heads for a few moments on their trusty firelocks, while the solemn prayer rose on the evening air in their be- half, and then took up their line of march By some mistake, or .purposely, they went farther on, and occupied Breed's Hill. At midnight those stern hearted men stood on the top, while Putnam marked out the lines of the entrenchments. By daylight they had constructed a redoubt about eight rods square, in which they could shelter them- selves. At four o'clock in the morning the people of Boston and the British offi. cers were waked up by a heavy cannona-> ding from an English ship of war, whose commander first perceived the position which the Americans had taken up during the night. The English officers could and running them through this one, pile the hay between. In a moment the mead- ow was black with men, some carrying rails on their s'-oulders, and some with arms full of hay, and all hurrying on- ward. In-a short time that single \fence , flags that drooped in the hot summer air looked like a huge embankment. This over the redoubt, you would have deemed j the deepest sadness, anxiety, and fear completed the line of defence of the left \' deserted. But flashing eyes were there, { The smoke of battle hung in light wreaths wing and centre, which extended from bent in wrath on the enemy as slowly and around that dark redoubt, while nearby, the Mystic river up to the redoubt. Be-. steadily they ascended the hill, and closed Charlestown was one mass of billowy flame hind the redoubt lay a part of the right sternly in for the death struggle. They and smoke. Theslope in front of thebreast work was spotted with the slain, and ever es of Charlestown at the base of the hill.! Thus stretched over and down the hill, like , a huge cord, lay the American army, nerved with the desperate valor of free. men battling on their native hills. The tremendous cannonade, which had been kept up all the forenoon, having fail- ed to dislodge the enemy, it was resolved by the British commanders to carry the heights by assault. Putnam in the mean Lorenzo Dow. Verily, he was a curious citizen, that same Lorenzo. What Coleridge says, in one of his pictures,, of the superanuated chamois of Switzerland, would have espe- cially applied tb Dow. When fairly en- gaged in \exhortation he would foam at the mouth like a wild bull of Basham, in asmuch that sometimes it would float in flakes, \adown his beard, that downward, went, His garment skirts unto.\ Among the ready retorts for which he was famous, is one which some of our readers may have heard before and forgot- ten, while many, doubtless, have never heard it at all. Happening in his travels —for he was evermore on the move—to be at Delhi, New York, he stopped for the night at the hotel of a Air. Bush, the chief Bdniface of the village, a round oily man, with a ruby nose, and atheistical principles. In the course of the evening, the celebra- ted General Root, then of the New York Legislature, dropped in, and being of the same mind with Mr. Bush, they began to quiz Dow with might and main. Finally, Gen. Root, determining to give him a puz- zler; said: \You talk a good deal about Heaven: pray give Mr. Bush and myself a descrip- tion of it. A man who sees it in dreams and trances as often as you profess to do, ought to describe it perfectly.\ \Well gentlemen,\ said Dow, '!l can describe it, but I must do it briefly. Heav- en embraces a vast extent of territory ; the air is clear and\ wholesome, the country is smooth and level; there isn't a Root or a Bush in it, and there never will be I\ but with their dogs and their friends; art invitation to such a eoiio.h was then con** sidered the strongest proof of affection ancf confidence that could be given. The first mirrors were made of metal* Cicero carried the original of them tip tql Esculapius. Moses, too, makes mention of them. It was in the time of Pompey ihat the first mirrors were made of silver at Rome. Pliny mentions a brilliant stone; probably tale, thin slices of which being fixed upon bright metal, reflected objects with great perfection. The first mirrors of glass appeared in Europe at the lattef' end of the crusades. Farewell to the Mountain; Farewell tb tub mtfuritaiijj And sun-lighted vale, The moss bordered streamlet, And balm-breathing galo: All so bright—all so fair, Here a seraph might dwell; 'Tis too lovely for me, Farewell! oh, farewell! Farewell, for how aweetly Each sound meets tfij ear; The wild bee and butterfly They may rest here j Hark! their hum how it blends With the deep convent bell,- Such strains are of Heav'n ; Farewell! oh, Farewell. i . Titled Donkeylsm. they advanced nearer and nearer, their ap pcarance was imposing in the extreme.— Stopping every few yards, they delivered their regular vollies on the embarkments, but not a shot replied. That silence was more awful than the thunder of cannon,for it told of carnage and death slumbering there. At length, when the hostile col- ime, had strained every nerve to add to umns were almost against the entrench- with their gay standards and their polished iand anon came the booming of cannon as bayonets floating and flashing in the sun, ] they still thundered on the American in- trenchments. The sun now stooping to the western horison bathed that hill top in its gentle light, and the mild summer eve- ning was hastening on. The hills looked green and beautiful in the distance—all na- ture was at rest, and it seemed impossible that such carnage had wasted there a mo- ment before. .But another sight soon arrested every constantly | nients, the signal was given and the stem j eye: there-farmed ranks of the enemy lither and .order \FIRE rung with startling clear-j were again in motion. Throwing aside thither, superintending every thing, and | ness on the air. A sheet of flame replied ] their knapsacks to lighten their burdens, animating the men by words of eneour-. running like a flash of light along that low | and reserving their fire, the soldiers with agement. During the night while Pres-| dark wall, and the front rank of the foe | fixed bayonets, marched swiftly and stead- bis means of defence. \Almost on horseback, he was riding h cott was hurrying forward the works on I went down, as if suddenly engulphed 11: Breed's Hill, he spurred furiously off to i the earth. But those behind,treading over Cambridge j ily over the slope, and up to the very in^. jtrenchments. Only one volley smote fhem, after'reinforcements! The ' their companions, pressed steadily forward,, for the Americans, alas, had fired their and worse than all were bosoms, and they sunk amid their fallen j without bajonets ! Clubbing their mus comrads. Still tho steady battallions no- ikets, however, they still beat back the en- bly struggled to bear up against the deadly ferny, when the reluctant order to retreat sleet, butall in vain ; rank after rank went was eiven. The gallant fellows behind thunder of cannon at four o'clock in the ; y et the same tempest of fire smote their j last cartridges, morning quickly brought him to the sad- ' die, and in a few minutes he was gallop^ ing up the redoubt. Ordering off a de- tachment, to throw up a work on Bunker's Hill, which commanded the height on down, like the sand bank as it caves over which the army lay, he again flew to j the stream, and at length,furious with rage Cambridge to hurry up the troops. The, and despair, the whole army broke and Neck, over which he was compelled to, fled fo r the shore. Then went up a long pass, was at this time swept by the artilles and . loud huzza from that little redoubt, ry of a man-of-war, and floating batteries. ] which was echoed the whole length of the Through this fire Putnam boldly galloped,, lmes > and answered by thousands of voices and to his joy found that Stark and Reed j from the roofs, and steeples, and heights'of were on the way to the scene of action.— Boston. ^ The discomfited troops never halted till they reached the shore, where their com- manders attempted to rally them. While they wore seen riding to and fro amid the ranks, Putnam put spurs to his horse and galloped off, in his shirt sleeves, after re- inforcements. But the Neck over which they must pass was now swept by such a galling fire that they refused to stir. Car- ried away by his intense anxiety he rode backwards and forward several times, to show there was no danger, while the balls ploughed up the earth in furrows around him ; but few, however, could be induced to follow, and he hastened back to the scene of action. The spectacle the hill now presented was terific beyond description. That re- doubt was silent again, while the dead and dying lay in ghastly rows near its base.— The imposing colums were again on the march, while Charlestown, which in the interval had been set on fire by the enemy, presented a new feature in the appalling scene. The roar of the flames were dis- tinctly heard in the American lines, and the smoke in immense volumes rolled hea- venward, blotting out the sun and shed- ding a strange and lurid light on the dead- covered field. The British* commander fondly hoped that th««'\oke would involve Disposing these troops to the besi advan- tage, he coolly awaited the terrible onset, which he knew was preparing for him.—- The day was clear; not a cloud rested on the summers heavens, and the heated earth seemed to pant under the fierce rays of the noonday sun. As he stood and gazed with a stern, yet anxious eye, a scene pre- sented itself that might have moved the boldest heart. The British army had crossed the channel, and now stood in bat- tle array on the shore. In the intervals of the roar of Artillery which played furi- ously from Morton's Hill, were heard the thrilling strains of martial music, and the stirring blast of the bugle, while plumes danced and standards waved in the sunlight and nearly five thousand bayonets gleam- ed and shook over the dark mass below.~ Just then a solitary horseman, of slender form, was seen moving swiftly over Bun- ker's Hill, and making straight for Put- nam,. It was General Warren, the gal- lant and noble hearted Warren, who had gazed on that silent redoubt and his brave brethren there, till he could no longer re- strain his feelings and had come to share their fate. Putnam with that generosity for which he was remarkable, immediately offered to put himself under his order.— \No said Warren, \I come as a volun- the hay and fence still maintained their ground, and thus saved the rest of the ar- my. Putnam, riding amid the men, and waving his sword over his head, endeav- ored to make them rally again on .Bun- ker's Hill. Finding all his efforts vain,he burst forth into a torrent of indignation.— His stout heart could not endure the day so nobly battled for should be lost at last. He rode between them and the enemy, be- fore which they fled, and there stood in the hotest of the fire. -But neither words nor example could stay their flight. ' With- out amunition or bayonets, or breastwork, it was a hopeless task. Warren too, in- terposed his slender form between his own troops and those of the -British. Moving slowly down the western declivity of the hill, he planted himself all alone before the ranks, and pointing to the mottoes on their standards, strove by his stirring elo- quence, to rouse them <o another effort- Carried away by a lofty enthusiasm, he reminded them that heaven watched over their cause, and would sustain their efforts. While he thus calmly stood and bent his flashing eye on the advancing battalions, an English officer, who knew him, snatch- a musket from a soldier, and shot him dead in his footsteps. Although the Americans were compell- ed to retreat across the Neck, which was swept by cannon, they suffered compari- tively little, and finally took their position on Winter and Prospect Hills, and night soon shut in the scene. It had been a fear- ful day, nearly two thousand men lay fal- len on that height, fifteen hundred of whom were British soldiers. The battle field re- mained in the hands of the English, but Origin of Various Tilings. We have the peach from Persia,- in which country it is actually held to be a poison. In our climate it has lost, by trans- plantation, much of its original coarseness,- and is become one of our choicest fruits. The plum was brought from Syria, at the time of the crusades. Rabbits were formerly held in such high estimation, that they were brought to ta- ble-as a very choice dish. They once in- creased to such an extent in Spain, that they were suspected of mining the ram- parts and the houses of Tarragono so as to cause some parts of them to fall. Oysters were looked upon by the Ro- mans as a \ dainty dish,\ arid the po'et An- tonious has celebrated them in his verses. After the death of this poet, however, oys- ters, were no more thought of, and it was not until the beginning of the sixteenth century, that they were again brought into notice. Parmesan cheese appeared in the more northern part of Europe, for the first time, in the reign of Charles VII of France. This prince, it would appear, in an expedi- tion against Naples, had occasion to pass through Placenza, when the magistrates offered him some of these cheeses, the enors mous size so greatly astonished him that, out gf mere curiosity, he sent a num-, ber of them to the queen and to the Duke ofBourbon. These royal persons ventu-^ ring to taste them, found them so excellent that from that time the Parmesan cheeses have ranked amongst the finest that can grace a royal table. Sweetmeats were formerly much used to bribe persons of quality, or judges to whom a request was to be. made. This custom at last rose to such a pitch that Louis IX of. France, issued a proclamation, wherein he forbade all judges to take more than ten penny worth a week. Phillip the hand some, subsequently curtailed this quantity to no more than what one could use in a day. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, good manners required that persons of dif- ferent sexes, when invited to parties, should sit down in couples, and that each couple should have one plate between them. In families, one goblet was enough for all, and St. Bertrand was disinherit- ed by his father, who was affected with the leprosy, for having wiped the edge of the goblet before he drank. Beds, now such indispensable pieces of furniture, were to the Greeks and Romans articles of great luxury. When they exs changed the leaves and skins of beasts on which- their heroio ancestors reposed, for mattresses and feather beds, the bedsteads were made sometimes of ivory, sometimes of ebony, sometimes of cedar, and some- times of silver. It would be difficult, now a days, in the middle ranks of life, to find beds, such as our ancestors slept on, not only with their wives and their children, Mow hollow the professions Which the world er- e'r makes! How unsatisfactory the poffip and peer- dom of nobility when life's last eandi have run-out. and the mortal career has terminated ! Read that an English noble; the Duke of Northumberland; one of the richest peers in Great Britain, died kit month quite suddenly in his bed,- at night; after having saffered a few days' attack of influeoza, without a remaining friend to watch beside hi* couch and smooth the descent to the valley of death ! Says the foreign correspondent of one df our papers, speaking of the event: It is an awful thought to reflect that all. the enormous wealth of this nobleman ; the descendant of the renowned Percys^ with an income averaging from .£2000 to £3000 daily, perfectly unincumbered ; could not procure a single hand to close his eyes, or which he might have grasped and breath- ed \farewell.\ His grace died without issue, and is succeeded in his title and possessions by his brother Lord Prudhoe.- Though not a man of great abilities, the late Duke held the high office of Chan- cellor of the University of Cambridge. He also had been Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Ambassador to the Court of St. Petersburg, and special envoy to France at the connation of the ill-fated Charles the Tenth. During the embassy he re- fused to receive any money for outfit, or for any thing else ; though a diamond hiked sworcf of the value of J&lO.-tfOO • sterling, voted to him by the House of Commons, he subsequently acpepted.— During the whole time that he remained in France, he had, independant of re- tainers, three hundred gentlemen of birth in his suite. As he progressed through France to Paris, he scattered gold a- mong the crowds that surrounded his train of equipages at every post-town.— His wife was governess to queen Victo. toria. The remains of the Duke were interred in Westminster Abbey, in .the tomb of the Percys, and with royal state. THE WATEE CO-KE.—Some years ago, before the introduction of the Croton v/an ter, one of our wealthiest.citizens up town, had occasion to send his coachman • for a pail of water. John refused to fetch it? alleging that it was not his hftsifiess—sbtri that of the house maid.- -;«;u- \Add pray what do you understand/to be your business ? \ rejoined his master* . \To take charge of the horses, arid drive the carriage sir.\ \W^eli* do you harness the-nories ,d%. teetly and bring the carriage to the 'jfa&i/* When the carriage drove upj heprdejced Mary, the house maid, to take her. pail and get in, and the fastidipUs -coachman was compelled to drive her to the pum(»-i--. stop for her to fill the pail—aand' ffieh' \dritfe her'back again! •; --• The lesson it is needless to say^a*, never forgotten.—JVi ¥. Paper, , ; - To Coolc Pmwnlpa. : Persons who* have never eaten parsnipfc cooked according to the following mode, have no idea of what an excellent dish tb*y are:—Scrape the parsnips, wash 1 and slice them lengthwise; boil' in just water enough to cover them till thoroughly done* Then put' ifr a piece of butter,- with a little salt and pepper. Beat up an egg with a spoonful of flour, and pour over»them; they ate then ready to dish up. Parsnips are likewise very good, split once and roaiK ted with pork- in the dripping pan.
