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AN INDEPENDENT NEWSPAPER; DEVOTED TO LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, AGRICULTURAL, POLITICAL, AND GENERAL INTELLIGENCE. YOL. J. OJYEIDA, MADISON COUNTY, N. Y., SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 1852. NO. 19, THE ONEIDA TELEGRAPH \JrYlll bo published every Saturday at Oneida, (De pot,) Madison Co., N Y. M>. H. FROST, Editor A Proprietor. A. K. EATON, Conductor of Scientific Department. OFFICE—No. 2, EXPIRE BLOCK, (up stairs.) TERMS—One dollar and Twenty-hve Cents per annum, in advance, to office and mail subscribers; One Dollar and Fifty Cents, in advance, U> Village subscribers, who receive their paper by the Carrier. Where ten or more copies are sent by mail to OD« office, they will be furnished at One Dollar each, and the person obtaining the names and sending us the money, shall receive a copy for his trouble. Where payment is delayed beyond three months twenty-five cents will be cAed in addition to the above rates; and fifty centrTkdditional if delayed -beyond six months. Good inducements will be offered to agents to canvass for subscribers. RATES OF ADVERTISING. One Square, 3 Weeks, $1 00. 8 Months, 3.00. 6 \ 6.00. •' \ 1 Year, 8.00. A liberal discount made to those who advertise hy the year. All communications must be pott-patd. Htid afflictions, bcr mind rapidly matured ; and j soon changed into joy as !>he perceived that he her affection for her father grew stronger as 1 was perfectly sober. she realized more fully the dreadful nature! ' Oh, father !' she sobbed, unable to control and ultimate tendency of the infatuation by her feelings, and leaning her face against his which he was led. I breast as she spoke—' it you would never go From the De Ruyter Banner. The Cenine Spirit Knocking!). BY JOHN BAWL. I8Q. In this world through which we're trotting, there is much of cunning plotting, Yea, there's some that is so cunning 'twould al most \ deceive th' elect!\ This is seized on as a reason why good truths, well well spoken in season, We should brand as fulsome treason, 'till on preju dice there're wrecked, And why those who propagate them by tbo priest hood should bo pecked, 'Till e'en the truthful we reject I Thus the cause of Spirit Thumping, on our floors and head-boardB bumping, lion been called a truthless humbug by the masess of the land, But I tell ye 'tis no humbug—for the Spirttt of the Ruin Jug With liauL Knocking! will your head ohug, and will make you understand That there's power in those who trample on the shores of Spirit land , Yes, they'll make you understand. Our b'koy* once took a ICSBOD, (now their names I'll let you guess on,) • And they learned the power of tpirxtt that down the neck we pour, For they swallowed spirits restless, and in conse quence, ull vestless, Shirts extinct, hats jammed and erestless, and their eyes nil bunged and sore. They were endways knocked outsprawling »n the dirty bar-room floor. With their coats and breeches tore ' Oh, this horrid Spirit Knocking! its effects are tru ly shocking; Ah, 'twill bring man on a level with the brutes, and often lower, Ruin dire his home will pour on—leave no bed that's fit to snore on, Or serv«,him as't did poor Doran,* knocking him beyond earth's shore. With the aarse of Rum upon him, to return again aeiaore, \ /* •^.wfr\ 1 . »M« vermore! „ H«rV* a'carae on all such spirits as destroy man's »' home and merits, knJ erowd our jails and prisons with the culprits they create! And I call on all who're striving to get humanity a thriving, That their voice and vote they're driving 'gainst the foul rum demon's pate I Reusa, and from this dread miasma save our glori ous Empire State— Save her ere it is too late! * A victim to the rum traffic, whose melancholy fit* was noticed some weeks since. At hist, in the anjrui.su of her concern she \ entured upon remonstrance. 1 his brought on ly angry repulse, adding bitterness to her cup of sorrow. The appearanco of a storm on the evening to which we alluded, gave Mary an op portunity for urging her father not to go out. flow her remonstrance was received has been seen. White the poor girl sat weeping, the distant tolling of thunder indicated the ap proach of the storm to which she referred.— But she cared little for it now. Her father had gone out. She had spoken of it only with the hope that he might have been in duced to remain with her. Now that he was away, the agitation with away ?' Tenderly the father drew his arm around his weeping child, and kissed her pure white forehead. ' Mary,' said he, as calmly as he could speak, ' for your mother's sake,' but he could not finish the sentence, his voic-o quivered and became inarticulate. Solemnly, in the silence of his own heart, did the father, as he stood with the child in his arms, repeat the vows he had already ta ken And he kept his vows. Wonderfull is the power of music'. It is the heart's own language, and speaks to it in a voice of irrestible persuasion : it is a good the city of Norfolk and the Swamp may fur- jected iind condemned, even in the most ho nish the best element of computation. A ca- • muepathic dilutions; while, my general health nal, of which General Washington was one being sound, and hers sadly impaired, I could of the projectors, traverses lengthwise through ! not &H to find in her dietetic habits the causes the swamp, and connects the waters of the Chesapeake with those of Albemarle Sound in North Carolina. Along the line of this , _ canal are located a rough set of traders,whose j headache, I was tempted to attribute to her of her almost habitual illness ; and once,while we wore still barely acquainted, when she came to the break fust-table with a very»sevcro A Temperance Tale. >T T. a ARTHUR. ' Dear Father,' said Mary Edwards, ' don't go out this evening; and the young girl, who hardly numbered fourteen years, laid her hand upon the hand of her parent. Mr. Edwards shook her off impatiently, mustering as he did so— ' Can't I go where I please ?' 'Oh yes, father,'urged Mary, drawing up to him again, notwithstanding her repulse.— But there's going to be a storm and I woiijd'nt go out.' 'Htorm .' nonsense ' That* only your pre- totibe, Bui I'll bo home again soon—long before the rain, if it comes at all.' And saying this, Mr. Edwards turned from his daughter and left the house. As soon as she wasleft alone-, Mary sat down and com menced Mteping. There had been sad chan ges sUco she was ten years old. In that time her father had fallen into habita of inlcmper- ence, and not only wasted his substance, but abused his family; and sadder still, her moth er diod broken hearted, leaving her alone in the world with a druuken father. The young girl's trials, under these circum stances, were great. Night after night her father would come home intoxicated, and it was so rare a thing for her to get a kind word from him, that a tone of* affection from his Hps would move her to tears. Daily the work ot declension went on. Drunkenness led to idloness, aud gradually Mr. Edwards and his child sunk lower in the scale of efforts.— The pleasant bouse where they lived was giv en up, aud in a small poorly furnished rooms, they hid themselves from observation. After this, Mr. Edwards moved along his downward way more rapidly; earning less and drinking more. Mary grew old fast. Under sovero trials in was too great to have any concern for the! gift from heaven, and should ever be employed turbulent elements without. | in a good cause On leaving home, Mr Edwards, who had. not taken any liquor for three or four hours, j T1,c Virginia Maroon* and whoso appetite was sharpened for the ac customed stimulus, walked quickly in the di rection of the drinking house, where ho found that there was a kttle commotion in the bar room. A certain individual, not over friendly to landlords, had introduced himself, and his character being known, the inmates were dis posed to have a little sport with him. ' Do, and I'll treat you to the stiffest glass of whiskey the landlord can mix,' added auother, ' Or perhaps jou like a mint julep or gm cock tail better ? Anything you please. Make a speech, and call for liquor. I'll stand the treat' 'What d'ye say landlord ? Shall he make the speech ?' said auother who was eager tor the sport. ' Please your selves and you'll please me,' replied the landlord ' Very well. Now for the s|>eech old fel low. Here mount this table.' And two or throe of the most forward took hold of his arms. 'I'm not just m the humor for making a speech,' said tho temperate man, ' but if it will please you as well, I well sing you a song.' ' Gfve us a song then. Anything to accom modate. But let's liquor first.' 'No,' said the other firmly. ' I must sing the song first, if I sing it at all.' BY EDMLND JACKSON. Iu the East India Islands, but more espe cially in Jamaica, Cuba and St. Domingo, during the reign of Slavery, it was common for fugitive slaves to seek shelter and security in the mountainous and secluded portions of those ls'ands, wheVe they congregated in small communities, and ajaintained their freedom at the cost of much privation, and, probably, frequent suffering. They were at constant war with tho planters, aud were hunted by the planters, and were hunted with as little mercy as are tho royal tigers in the jungols of Bengal. They not unfroquontly, however, re tahated upon their persecutors the same meas ure of vengeanco which was meted out to themselves. Hunting tho Maroons as they are termed, was a matter of common occurrence, when their depredations upon any particular locali ty became troublesome; for their notions of tneum and tuum were, of course, very similar to those of their slaveholding teachers. Such was the state of things in Jamaica previous to emancipation, and such is now substantially the case, I apprehend, in Cuba, and, indeed, in all slaveholding communities. It is not, I think, generally known, however, that our Southern States contain many communities of greater or less numbers, very similar to those of Jamaica aud Cuba, though not designated Don t you thiuk your pipes will be clearer' by tho name of Maroons, but as \gangs of for a little drink of some kind or other !' I runaway negroes.\ 'Perhaps they would. 'So provided you j The \Atlantic slaveholding States, whore have no objections, 111 take a glass of cold tliese gnng8 are more f requent) do not afford water—if such a thing is known in this place. 1 j auy mountainous regions to wljich tho Fugi- The glass of water was presented and the j tive can resort and sot at nought the efforts of entire trade is with the Maroons of the Swamp.! strong potntions of the Chinese leaf the night These Swamp Merchants obtain their supplies ! before. Sho told uie quite frankly that she and convey the produce of the Swamp, prin- j \ declined being lectured on the food or bov- cipally, if not entirely, to Norfolk. The arti- j erage sho saw fit to take;\ which was but clea w hich the negroes require are, for tho j reasonable in one w ho had arrived at her ma- most part, salted provisions, Indian corn.coarse tunty of intellect and fixidness of habit*. So cloths and tools; and what they furnish in \ the subject was- thenceforth tacitly avoided payment are chiefly staves and shingles. j between us ; but, though words were sun- Thus has been established a trade between | pressed, looks and unvoluiitary gestures could Norfolk and the Fugitives, which is w holly I » ot so »<-l!be, 8,1 u \ or divergency o f contraband, and which would subject the I \ ews on this and kindred themes created a white participants in it to fearful penalties, if 1 perceptible distance between us.^ they could only be enforced. For throughout tho slave states, it is an offence by law, of the gravest character, to have an) dealings what ever with runaway negroes; but \ you no catch Vm, yo|i no hab cm,\ is emphatically true in the Dismal Swamp, where trader and runaway are alike boyond tho reach of .Vir ginia law. An intelligent merchant of near thirty yeajs' business, in Norfolk, estimated the value of slave property lost in the Swamp at one and a half million of dollars. This, at the usual rate of slave valuation, would give near forty thousand as the population of the Swamp, an estimate, I apprehend, quite too largo, as it probably 'exceeds the number of fugitives now dwelling in all thofreo States, including those of Canada also. Bo this as it may, however, the main points of interest seem to be sufficiently established, which are theso : that a permanent free popu lation of very considerable amount, consisting of those who fled from Slavery, and their de scendants, have established themselves, with eutiro security, in the largest slaveholding State of the South; that though subject? doubtless, to poverty and many privations, they obtain a living, are increasing, and\ that, through their efforts, and the*brdinauco of nature, they have established a city of** in the midst of Slavery, which has TB( from generation to generation, and is IikeTj' to continue until Slavery is abolished through out the land. A curious anamaly this com munity certainly presents, and its history and destiny ure alike suggestive of curiosity and interest bounteous, as well when lie reclaims as when he bestows. In a few years, at farthest, our loved and lost ones will welcome us to \their home. Heaelley's Life of Kasmtk. The author, P. C. IIEADL^Y, has furnished us a portion of his forthcoming work, of the Life and Speeches of the illustrious Magyar. As a specimen of the captivating style in which Mr Headley describes events, we give the follow ing extract, descriptive of the battle ofSukoro. Count Lambcrg'a murder, and Batthyanyi'a resignation, encouraged Jcllociiich to advance more rapidly. September 2,9th the two »r ! ' mica met near the vineyards of Sukoro, which lay green and quiet under a smiling sky.— The proud Ban anticipated a victory with re sistance so faint, that the iron hail should scarcely mar the foilagc of the plain. But the\ sons of Hungary were there from the legal Her lovo of children was one of her molt I brief and tho patient's couch, to fall under her --• uanner 'p ue iubabitants of the surrounding man prepared to give the song. All stood lis tening attentivel), Edwards among the rest. | The voicoof the old man was low and tremu lous, yet every word was uttered distinctly, and with patBos that showed that the mean ing was felt. The following well writen tem perance song was the one he sung ; and while his voice filled the room every other sound was hushed :— Where are the friends thot to me were so dear, Long, long ago—long, long ago t Where are the hopes that my heart used to cheer, Long, long ago—long, long ago ? Friends that I loved in the grave are laid low, Hopes that I cherished are fled from me now, I am degraded, for rum was my foe— Long, long ago—long, long ago. Sadly my wife bowed her beautiful head*— Long, long ago—long, long ago. Oh, how I wept when I found she was dead' Long, long ago—long, long ago. She was an angel—my lore and my guide— Poor broken hearted—'twas well that she dieJ, Long, long ago—long, long ago. Let me look back on the days of my youth— Long, long ago—long, long ago. I was a stranger to virtue and truth, Long, long ago—long, long ago. Oh, for the hopes that were pure as the day, Oh, for the joys that wera purer than they, Oh, for the hours that I've squandered away — Long, long ago—long, long ago. The silence that prevailed in the room when the old man's voice died away, was the si lence of death. Pausing scarcely a moment, he moved slowly from the room, and left the Ins pursuers. Necessity, however, here as elsewhere is the mother of invention ; and in lieu of the almost inaccessible mountainous regions, tho Fugitive avails himself of the nu merous and extensive swamps and low grounds which abound in the old and many of the newer slave States. \ There swamps are, for the most part, sub merged with water the year round, but con tain many islands of dry land, slightly eleva ted above high water mark ; and here the Fu gitive erects his hut, cultivates, to the best of his very limited means, patches of corn and sweet potatoes, and not unfrequently rears a large family of children. Occasionally, when necessity presses hard, he makes a foray by night upon the nearest plantation or settle ment, and helps himself without leave asked or granted. When, however, they seek refuge in swamps of small, dimensions and not diffi cult to penetrate, they are frequently hunted out and captured or slam. Generally, the lat ter fate overtakes them, a part of the gaug being killed on the spot, and the remainder escaping, for the tune, to encounter at some future clay the doom of their fellows. Tho great Dismal Swamp, which lies near the eastern shore of Virginia, and commenc ing near Norfolk stretches quite into North Carolina, contains a largo colony of negroes, who originally obtained their freedom by tho grace of God, and their own determined ener gy, instead of the consent of their owners or by the help of the Colonization Society. How Unmount It is worthy of note, too, in these days of political agitation, that these poor fugitives should, long ago, have practically realized the doctnue of a modern political party, success fully established its principles, and made this Swamp, Dismal by nature as name, tbo only '•free soil\ in all these United States, and the only ground, if such it may be called, which has never been, and, wo thiuk, never will bo polluted by the track of the srHve-buntcd. BOSTON, September, 1851. —Liberty Bell for 1852. |y The following extract, from the pen of Horace Greeley, is taken from a new work entitled \Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli,\ better known as Margaret Fuller, authoress of \ Woman m the 19th century.\ Miss Ful ler was for some time connected with tho Tri bune, editorially. prominent characteristics. The pleasure she enjoyed in their society was fully counter poised by that she imparted. To them she was never lofty, nor reserved, nor mystical; for no one had ever a more perfect faculty for en tering into their sports, their feelings, their en joyments. Sho could narrate nlmost any story in language level to their capacities, and in a manner calculated to bring out their hearty and often boisterously expressed delight Shu possessed marvelous powers of observation nnd imitation of mimicry; and, had she been at tracted to the stage, would have been the first actress America has produced, whether in trag edy or comedy. Her faculty qf mimicking was not needed to commend her to tho hearts of children, but had its effect in increasing the fascinations of genial nature and heartfelt joy in their society. To amuse and instruct them was an achievement for which she would read ily forego any personal object; and hor intui tive perception of the toys, games, stories, rhymes, <tc, best adapted to arrest and onchain their attention, was unsurpassed. Between her and my only child, thcu living, who was eight months old when sho came to us, and something over two years when sho sailed for Europe, tendrils of affection gradually en tertained themselves, which I trust Death has uot severed,but rather multiplied and strength ened. She became his teacher, playmate, and monitor; aud he requited her with a prodi gality of ION e and admiration. I shall not soon forgot their meeting iu my office, after some weeks' separation; just before she left us forever. His mother had brought him in from the country and left him asleep on my sofa, while sho was absent making pur chases, and he had rolled off' and hurt himself in the fall, waking with the shock in a frenzy • \ p ir - i * _p i ?_ of anger, just before Margaret, hearing of his innner. country had gathered to witness the conflict. The Croats were 40,000 strong, and General Moga's forco about 5,000. The order to fire was given by Jellachich, and returned prompt ly by his foe. A long cannonading succeed ed, and the volumes of smoke fringed with fire, rolled over tho unyielding combatants.— Then tho Ban's fierce cuirassiers made their Charge, and were beaten back as a rock flings buck, tho surge. Again they charged with desperate energy and the rago of disappointed valor. Tho artillery opened gapes which were quickly filled; the swords drank blood, and the scythes mowed down their ranks of living men. And so, till night came down, the lo cust swarm of Crotia woro in close struggle with tho undisciplined Hungarian soldiery.— Suddenly there was a rush of tho Magyars upon the heroic band. A moment the shock was sustained by the stung and astonished cu- riassers of tho Ban, and tho billow of bravery went over the prostrato enemy, forced to the waters of lake V elentze, in their rear. The sounds of discord died on the evening air —the clouds of vapor sunk away from the vineyards of Sukoro, whoso confines were red with th\ wine of carnage. And there stood the littl** army who had guarded the ark of freedom amid the fury of their first mighty battle, wondering at the triumph their own hands had won. With tho greatat Hanuibal, ifoga commit ted a fatal mistake in refusing to permit his impatient soldiers to follow up the victory.— Jellachich requested an armatice of three days, which was granted. The invader, under cover of darkness, decamped and fled toward the Austrian frontier. He escaped with permis sion of his captors, to slay more defenders of arrival, rushed into tho office to find him. I was vainly attempting to soothe him as she entered; but he was running from one end to the other of the office, crying passionately, and refusing to be pacified. Sho hastened to him in perfect confidence that her endearments rights dearef than a fleeting existence—pro tectors of honor ami a religious faith. Am Uw«a\lie4*f«r Ai A correspondent of tho Methoditt Protes tant relates the following story :— A very sensitive preacher, in a certain vil- would calm the current of his feelings—lhat \ i age uot more t ii aa u hundred miles from Bal- tho sound of her well-remembered voice would ; u , 110 ro, was discoursing with great warmth banish all thought of his pain—and that I ou t i lu uncertainty of humau life. To give another moment would see him restored to t |, e greater effect to his remarks, after a*»ur- gentleness; but, half-wakened, he did not heed ] lng m8 hearers that they might die before an- her, nnd probably did not even realize who it j ot i ier hour had elapsed, he said— was that caught him repeatedly in her arms , « An d 1, your speaker, mav be dead before and tenderly insisted that he should restrain , ano ther morning dawns.\ himself. At last she desisted in despair; and I jlmen /\ was tho audible resposo of a pi- _ . brother in tl\o congregn- observed : *• Pickie, many friends have treated i t,j olu me unkindly, but no one had ever the power j u T i, e p renc h op was evidently disconcerted to cut me bo the heart as you have '. \ Being : f o r a n i 0 , neD L He thought the brother must thus let alone, he soon came to himself, ami \ | ia vo misunderstood his meaning. Pausing their mutual delight in tho meeting was null- I aw liilo, he repeated the declaration with still er heightened by the momentary estrange- g reater emphasis- audience to their reflections. There was notj long this colony has existed,what l one of them who was not more or less affect- \f population, w hat portion of the colonists j ed, but the deepest impressions had been are now Fugitives, and what the descendant* made on the heart of Edwards. The song of Fugitives, aro questions not easily deter-, seemed as if it had been made for him The mined ; nor can we rendil} avail ourselves of' second verse particularly, went thrilling to Ins tho better knowlege undoubtedly existing in fi 'elinjr :— , the vicinity of this colony, by reason of tho i lecided objections of those bd.t enabled to ment. They had one more meeting; the ir List on earth ! \Aunty Margaret\ was to embark for Europe on a certain day, and \ Pickiu\ was brought into the city to bid her furewcll. They met this time also at my offioe, and together we thence repaired to the ferry-boat, on which j she wns returning to her residence in Brooklyn to complete her preparations for tho voj age. i There they took an affecting leave of each oth-, er. But soon his mother called at the office, 1 on her way to tho departing ship, and we | 'Sadly rav wife bowed her beautiful bead,' IIo<* suddenl) rose before him the sorrow- stricken form of the wife of his youth at these words, and when the old man's voice faltered on the hue — 'Poor broken heartcJ—'twas well that she died.' gratify our curiosity, to some extent at least, i to furnish an_\ information yhatever, lest it might be used by the Abolitionists for their purposes, its one of them frankly said when questioned about the matter. i Nevertheless, some facts, are at least, an ap- 1 were easily persuaded to accompany her thith- at tt |l. I thought if you should die, you would or, and say fhrowell onco more, to the mani- ' go straight to glory, and I ujcant araeo to ure. tho anguish of his spirit was so great that he p r0 xmiation towards tho truth of them, are 1 only kept himself from sobbing aloud by a known respecting this singular community of stroug effort at self control. Ero the spell was ( blacks, w ho have won their freedom and es- bmkeii, ora^-ord uttered by one, he arose ( tnblishcd therrwdves soemfhr in the rmdst of > aud left the house. i t i, e largest slaseholding Ma'tc of the South; : For many minutes after her father's depart- 1 for from this extensive swamp thay are very 2,' Mary sat W« E bitterly. She felt hope- j seldom, if now at all, reclaimed. The chivaf. less and desorted^fenderly did sho love her ry of Virginia, so far as I know, have never parent, but this lovo was only a sourfie of the ( yet ventured a slavo hunt in tho Dismal keenest anguish, for she saw him swiftly pass- 1 Swamp, nor is it probably in the power of ing along the road to desparalion without the that Stato to capture or expel theso Fugitives power to save him. from it. This may appear extravagant. But Grief wastes itself by its own violence.— when it is known how long a much less nu- So it was iu this instance. The tears of Marv j merous band of Indians held tho everglades were at length dried; her sobs were hushed | of Florida against tho forces of tho United and she was about rising from her chair, when . States, and how much blood and treasure it a blinding flash of lightning glared into the cost to expel them finally, we may find a room, followed instantly by a deafening jar of sufficient roason for tho forbearance of the An- thunder. | cient Dominion towards tho community of ' Oh, if fatlw were homo J' sho murmured, : Fugitives, domiciliated in their midst From clasping her hands together. i the character of tho r«^lxKw> it is reasons- Even when she stood in this attitude thflibJi to infer that the United States Marshal door opened quickly, and Mr. Edwards en- j has never charged himself with the duty of tered. • j taking the census of the swamp, and we can 'I thought you would be afraid, Mary and; only estimate the amount of population by so I came home,' said he in a kind voice. such circumstances as may serve to indicate it Marv looked at him in suprise. This was 1 Of these, perhaps the trade existing b«ween \ My first acquaintance with Margaret Fuller j wit i, lbe b)tt0 r tears streaming down her face, I oua atld muc h-loved was made through tho pages of Th* Bella. \ - — -. - .» . . ous auci mucn-lovcu The lofty range and rare ability of that work, ; and its un-Amencan richness of culture aud 1 ripeness of thought, naturally filled the \ tit ! audience, though few,\ with'a high estimate of those who, were known as its conductors and principal writers. Yet I do not now re member that any article, which stronger im pressed me, wns recognized ns from the pen of its female editor, prior to the appearance of '• The Great Lawsuit,\ afterward matured into the volume more distinctively, yet not quite accurately, entitled, \ Woman in the Nineteenth Century.\ I think this can hardly ; have failed to make a deep impression on the minds of every reader, as tho production of an original, vigorous, and earnest mind.— \Summer on the Lakes,\ which appeared j some time nfter tho essay, though before its expansion into a book struck me ns less am bitious in its aim, buL inoro graceful and duli- cate in its execution ; and as one of the clear est and most graphic delineations ever given of the Great Lakes, of tho Prairies, nnd of the receding barbarism, and the rapidly ad vancing, but rude, repulsive semi-civilization, which were contending with most unequal forces for the possession of those rich lands.— I still consider \ Summer on tho Lakes\ un- equaled, especially in its picture of the Prai ries and of the sunnier aspects of Pioneer lifo. Yet, it was tho suggestion of Mrs. Greeley —who had spent some weeks of successive seasons in or near Boston, and who had there made the personal acquaintance of Miss Ful ler, and formed a very high estimate and warm attachment for her—that induced me, in tho autumn of 1844, to offar her terms, which were accepted, for her assistance in the litera ry department of The Tribune. A home in my family was included in her stipulation. I was myself barely acquainted with her, when she thus came to reside with us, and I did not fully appreciate her nobler qualities for some months afterward. Though they were members of tho same household, we scarcely met save at breakfast; and my time and my thoughts were absorbed in duties and cares, which left me littto leisure or inclination for the amenities of social intercourse. For tune seemed to delight in placing us two in relations of friendly antagonism—or rather, to develop alt possible contrasts in our ideas and social habits. She was naturally (ncltned to luxury and good appearance before the world. My pride, if I had any, deh'gbted in bare walls and rugged fare. She was addict ed to strong tea and .Coffee, both which I re- \ Before another hour your speaker may bo in eternity !\ \ Amen \' shouted the brother before him. It was too much fur the sensitive man ; and, stammering out a few additional rumarks he sat down before he had finished his discourse. \ Brother ,\ said the preacher tho other day to his kind-hearted friend of tho amcu corner, \what did you mean by saying 'amen' to my remarks lust night! Did you w ish I was dead ?\ \ Not at all,\ said the good brother, \ not test satisfaction of both Margaret and tho,' /Jj«/~\» youngest of her devoted friends. Thus they j parted, never to meet again in time. She sent him messages and presents repeatedly from Europe ; and he, when somewhat older, dictated a letter in return, which was joyfully recoived and acknowledged. Whon tho moth er of our great-souled friend spent some days with us nearly two years afterward, \ Pickie\ talked to her often and lovingly of \Aunty Margaaet, H proposing that they should take a boat and go over and sco hor,—for, to his in fantile conception, tho low coast of Long Island, visible just across tho East River, was that Europe to which she had sailed, and where sho was unaccountably detained so long. Alas! a far longer and more adventurous jour ney was required to re-unite those loving souls! Tho 12th of July, 1049, saw him stricken down, from health to death, by the relentless cholera ; and iny letter, announcing that ca lamity, drew from her a burst of passionate sorrow, such as hardly any bereavement but tbo loss of a very near relative could have im pelled. Another year had just ended, when a calamity equally sudden, bereft a wide circle of her likewise, with her husband and tafant son. Little did I fear, when I bade her a cou- fidont good-by, on the deck of her outward- bound ship, that the sea would close ovor her earthly remains ere we should meet again ; far less that the light of my eyes and the cy nosure of my hopes, who then bade her a ten derer and sadder farewell, would precede her on the dim pathway to that \ Father 's house,'\ whence is no returning I Ah, welf! God ia above all, and gracioM aljk» in what he coo* ceals and what be flirrloses—bttaignant and rter. '• So you've bcon home to Connecticut to keep Thanksgiving, have you I\ said Brown to Smith, at the dinner -table, on the day of tho latter'* return. \ Ye*,\ was the nMtter -or*-oourse repir. Now, Brown was a sharp fellow (at least ier his ow n opinion,) and • lurking grin had be gun to steal over his phiz in such a knowing way that wo outside Darbarians begun to lis ten. \ Let me see,\ said' Brown,, musing a mo ment,\ don't they make horn gun-flinta,WoQden nutmegs and wooden purapkin-aeeds down in Connecticut ? n \ O, yes,\ said Smith, quite unconcerned ^ but they sell them ebewhartv^ • Twas evident Brown had not made moetl thus far. His grin waa losing its giea. u Well, Smith,\ said Brown, retamiag t* the charge, \ what kind of nutmegs do you, think I should make if I was worked up r Twas a most singular and in itet imatoooilQr table question and 'twas evident dtwkh re garded it as such, for he laid down hit knife and fork, and gating deliberately nt Brown's face, while a shadow atoja ever bis ow*, he sadly shook his hesid. u You would'nt answer at all—not at said he; \ there's too much sap in yo^ , Thejr UJS # tffe clear wood.\ tfh» oondanen of the sentence waahardlr heard; k*t wfcs* nWtrptoer &ee h*d ch.*gW ia. is» eajwssio* B**# evidently \ a disappointed nwn. —X4rtfi*X> Time*.
