quail under the smile of withering scorn with ed the inimitable tact with which he detected which his victim recognised him. On his cross-every flaw in the prosecutor's case, and seized examination, he reluctantly admitted that he had for his client upon every offensive and defensive been the organizer of many illegal meetings and point in the evidence from which he poured the acts of violence-that he had been a convicted irresistable flood of his eloquence into the very horse-stealer, perjurer, coiner, and, in short, souls of his auditory. Yet, strange to say, his that he had been either principal or accessary oratory was plain, I had almost said, unselect; in the most atrocious crimes. Every instant, as but if it possessed not the polished elegance of the prisoner's counsel, by some ingenious home- Cicero's, it contained all the fiery energy of Dethrust, shook the validity of his testimony; or, mosthenes' harangues. The jury had leaned atby an unexpected "floorer," destroyed his cred-tentively forward in their box-every face gradibility with the jury, a buzz of applause ran ually relaxing into an expression of acquiesthrough the court, which the temperate dignity cence with the arguments of the eloquent counof the Chief Justice (Bushe) could scarcely re-sel; even one dogmatical, hanging-looking old press. At length, weary of dragging further to light this disgusting spectacle of moral turpitude, the wretched man was permitted to leave the table, amid curses and execrations-" not loud, but deep." The next witness who appeared, had been a farm servant of the deceased; his lounging gait and vacant stare, gave him a most unpromising air of stupidity.-The Book was handed him "Neil Sossennaugh"-(no English,) said he, with an appealing look to the Judge. "He speaks English, my Lord!" said the opposing counsel and, turning to the witness, asked him suddenly, if he never had spoken English?"Never, yer Onner," was the unguarded reply. "Then, my fine fellow, it is high time you should begin-take the Book, Sir!" Seeing he had fairly committed himself, he proceeded with that repugnance common to all the lower classes of the Irish, to give his evidence, in what he considered a foreign tongue.-Little was elicited from his testimony, though he had seen the whole transaction from his flock-bed, which was placed in the corner of a kitchen; and he became so bewildered on his cross-examination, with the multitude of questions respecting the relative situation of the room, and the persons in it, that he floundered from one dilemma to another, until his entire evidence became a tissue of absurdities. fellow, who sat bolt upright during the entire business, was, by some droll but flattering compliment, tickled into attention-a smile played around his puckered mouth, and I could see plainly, by his gratified chuckle, that he was fast forsaking his strict matter of opinions. It was now evident that, though the sword still remained suspended over the prisoner's head, the chances for his safety were momentarily doubling, for, as he drew near the close of his vehement and splendid appeal to the heart, the feelings and sympathies of the Court and Jury, every breath suspended-all was silent as death, save that one deep, powerful, and impressive voice. The unfortunate criminal watched his deliverer with looks, in which a faint ray of hope seemed hovering on the brink of despair-while his agonized wife, (who, like a ministering angel, had stood near him in the side dock, during the day) wiped with her checked apron, the cold dews which overspread his pale brow. The speaker at length concluded, and, flinging himself back exhaustedly on his seat, the loud hum of admiration spread through the Court, and I had an opportunity of inquiring from a gentleman who sat near me, who that eloquent pleader was-"Who?" replied he in a tone of amazement-"Who could it be but O'Connell ?" I was petrified-for here I had been listening above an hour to this great Leviathan of law and politics without being aware of his presence. As I gazed on his portly figure-calm, good-humored face-rich smile, in which an indescribable comicality seemed to lurk, and quick piercing eye-I felt convinced, that of all men I had ever seen, he was the fittest for a popular leader.. The case for the prosecution having closed, a host of witnesses appeared, ready to prove an alibi for the prisoner; but his counsel, prudently contenting himself with one or two of the most respectable of these, endeavored to establish the point with the jury, but evidently with little effect; and the fact of the prisoner's guilt seemed so apparent to every person present, that there scarcely remained a shadow of doubt as to his The judge now summed up his charge coolly conviction. But the struggle was not yet over; and impartially. A doubt, he said, had arisen, a busy hum of expectation arose-an eager of which the prisoner ought to have the benefit; pressing forward-and a whisper of curiosity but he left to the Jury the consideration of it. passed through the Court, as a jolly-looking co- They retired--and, after an hour's torturing suslossal limb of the law, the counsel for the prison- pense, brought in a verdict of Not Guilty." er, stood up, with a good-humored carelessness The prisoner, who had never faultered in the in his manner and countenance, that, to a super-hour of peril--who had borne up manfully ficial observer, seemed to partake more of against his impending fate-no sooner heard the shrewd drollery, than an extraordinary intellec- verdict pronounced than his fortitude forsook tual power. He opened his lips-and the broad, unsophisticated tones of a native Hibernian, grated unmusically on my anglicised ear; but as he proceeded, his rich and powerful language riveted all my faculties. I heard him with delight pursue, with close and accurate perspicuity, his argument, through the tangled web of conflicting testimonies, bringing light out of darkness, and order out of confusion. I admir him-the transition from a prison and an ignominous death, to liberty and life, was too muchhis spirits failed, and with a faint exclamation, he sunk forward, his face concealed in his hands, upon the bar of the dock; his wife sobbing loudly, clung wildly to his neck, holding up his infant boy to share his restored embraces. A few moments more beheld him a liberated man, exulting in the free, blessed air and light of Heaven, sur rounded by a crowd of his friends and people; ORIGINAL. We trust the writer of the following just rebuke will not confine his pen to criticisms upon Album verses, which, seen by few, and by still fewer admired, have by common consent been voted the dullest of all verses. There is a vein of good sense running through these, combined with great felicity of expression; and we welcome the writer to our columns, hoping he will again favor us with more gems from the same mine. The following original lines were addressed by a young lady to a gentleman, who on being requested to write in her album, (had instead) designed the human heart, and sub-divided it by the various passions; the most predominant of which were Dress, Vanity, Frivolity and Scandal. And who art thou can thus portray The female heart? For the Saturday Evening Post. KINGSESSING. The little township of Kingsessing, which forms the south-west corner of the county of Philadelphia, retains more of the primitive character of its early settlement than almost any other with which we are familiar. The law and lawyers are unknown in this happy district, where industry is wealth, and virtue nobility. The following statistical information in regard to it, will afford a pleasing picture to our readers, and may be depended on for its accuracy. The greater part of this township is within the sound about 1100. In it there is one church, and one meetof the town clock, and the population amounts to ing house for blacks, but no resident clergyman of any denomination. It cannot boast of either a judge, lawyer, sheriff, sheriff's officer, or clerk of any court. There is but one justice of the peace in the township, requisite duties of his office for eleven years, never and he has held his commission, and performed the having sent one case to court, nor has his judgment ever been appealed from. There is but one constable in Kingsessing, and he has other business to support him, or he would starve on the fees of his office. Notwithstanding this peaceable character of the inhabitants, there are five licensed taverns, and unhappily several tippling houses. There lives in this "happy and there is very little business for either of the latter valley," one sexton and grave digger, but no doctor, professions. In this township they have no temperance societies, and very few paupers, the poor tax being but about 200 dollars a year, or less than twenty cents for each resident! There are no manufactories except basket making, which is carried on by families after the fashion of the Connecticut silk raisers, the women and all hands turning to it of "rainy days," and when little else could be attended to. The principal occupation, and source of independence of the inhabitants is in farming, grazing, dairying and gardening. The majority are descendants of the Swedes and Quakers, who settled here soon after the arrival of William Penn. There is not one person returned as "gentleman" by the assessors, though in this city several of that description of people are on our benefit list at the present moment. Kingsessing has the best gravelled road in the state made at the expense of the township throughout its whole length. The greatest nuisance to which these good Arcadians are subject, is the depredation annually committed by cockney sportsmen from the city, who call themselves gunners, because they point their arms at the tom-tits and make a great noise and smoke, ending in nothing but frightening the small birds from the orchards and gardens, and ofttimes destroying and carrying off the poultry, and leaving the bars down and gates open. In Kingsessing is situated Bartram's Botanic Garden, now under the care and owned by Colonel Carr, to call whom industrious, scientific, polite and accom plished, would only be bandying epithets which our citizens by common consent have agreed to attach to his name. He raises pine apples and cabbages, grapes in sufficient profusion to make wine, and has altogether just such a green house and establishment as we ourselves design to possess when we have fairly got paid for every newspaper we have published during the last eleven years! DEATH.--It is doubtless hard to die; but it is agreeable to hope we shall not live here forever, and that a better life will put an end to the troubles of this.-If we were offered immortality on earth, who is there would accept so melancholy a gift?-What resource, what hope, what consolation would then be left us against the rigour of fortune, and the injustice of man? A TALE OF ST. DOMINGO. Written for the Casket. A Tale of St. Domingo. 205 circumstance in itself was of little importance. It was usual for the negroes after their daily task was completed, to go to the dwelling house of There seems to me to be a striking resem- their masters, and complain of any petty grievblance between slave-holding and volcanic ance, or ask for little privileges. There was, countries. Though the inhabitants may be however, about this man an air of apprehension blessed with every enjoyment depending upon and uncertainty, which had just fixed Eugene's soil and climate, yet in the very bowels of the attention, when he rushed upon his master and land there are constantly the elements of de- buried in his bosom a large knife, which he had struction. Even while we are most happy and held unobserved in his hand. The unhappy secure, the volcano may be upon the point of L-fell from his chair without a groan, and bursting forth with overwhelming ruin, which no the next instant Eugene was standing over his foresight can anticipate, and no prudence avert. body. With his right hand he had caught a Such was the state of St. Domingo, at the open-knife from the table, and in his left he held a ing of my tale; on the eve of that fearful insur-chair, with which he parried a blow aimed at rection which consigned so many unsuspecting beings to premature death, or drove them from their homes and kindred, to struggle with want in the loneliness of a foreign land. The hot glaring day had passed, and was succeeded by the soft splendor of a West Indian evening. Monsieur L- a large proprietor of land and slaves, was sitting at a table in his saloon, looking over some newspapers, which he had just received from a neighboring town. At the other end of the table his wife was engaged in preparations for the evening meal. Before an open window in the same apartment, sat their only daughter, Theresa, with her cousin and accepted lover, Eugene M selected two double barrel guns, and a musket, which, by its large calibre, was peculiarly fitted for his purpose. He loaded them heavily with swan shot, and took a position from which he could command a view of the whole stairs. him by the slave. Afraid to contend singly against such resistance, and confounded perhaps by his own success in the attempt upon his master's life, the negro turned and retreated through the door at which he had entered. A single glance into the portico showed Eugene that it was filled with negroes, and the truth flashed at once upon his mind. To lock and barricade the door, to snatch a candle from the table, and hurry his aunt and cousin up the staircase which ascended from the saloon, was to Eugene but the work of a moment. There was a small closet at the heard of the stairs, which Mons. L had devoted to his collection of arms, for which he had a singular fondness. It was no time to Eugene was an orphan. At the very begin- search for keys. With the wild energy of dening of his course through life, he had encoun-spair, Eugene threw himself against the door. tered misfortunes and difficulties, which only It gave way, and he was precipitated headlong his own talents and energy had enabled him to into the closet among rattling pistols and fowling surmount. He had met with wrongs and treach-pieces, and flasks and bags of ammunition. He ery enough from the world, to make him prize, at their full value, the purity and single-minded love of Theresa. Young as he was, he had seen much of mankind. With an ardent disposition and a heart formed for universal love, the fraud and ingratitude of all whom he had trusted had The negroes in the mean time had not been changed his naturally frank bearing to one of idle. They had broken down the door with axes, haughty coldness. But to Theresa he looked as and were now spreading themselves through the the only being whom he might love, without lower apartments of the building. Eugene could danger and reserve. His eyes were now fixed hear their muttered threats, which gradually upon hers, with a mixture of pride and affection swelled into oaths and shouts, as they met with which was not very far removed from idolatry. no resistance, and were unable to find their vicThe window at which they were seated, was tims. The light in the upper story at length covered with a luxuriant vine, trained under caught their attention. "They are there! they Theresa's direction. The checquered moon- are there!" was shouted from one to another, and light streamed through it, and the evening breeze immediately their heavy steps were heard upon rustled among its leaves. With all the conge- the stairs. His heart throbbing with intense nial beauties of a tropical night around them, the anxiety, but not with fear, Eugene watched their lovers were enjoying that interchange of roman-advance. He waited till they reached the first tic feeling, which it is so much the fashion to landing place; and then, while the foremost were ridicule in this matter of fact country of ours; crowded together by the turn of the stairs, he but which I consider the single green spot, and fired into the thick mass of woolly heads, with single sparkling fountain, in the dreary waste of both barrels of his fowling piece. The deafena sordid and selfish world. What they were ing reverberations of the report, and the thick talking of heaven only knows. Chance has once volumes of smoke, prevented Eugene from asor twice made me an unintentional listener to certaining at once the effect of his fire. Luckily the conversation of lovers. Much as I was in- there was an open window in front of the stairterested at the time, I could not afterwards re- case, through which a fresh breeze was now collect a word that had passed. And I am in-blowing. The smoke dispersed almost immediclined to think, that their intercourse consists in the exchange of kind words and tones rather than ideas. The opening of a door, and the entrance of a tall athletic negro, belonging to M. L-, drew for a moment the attention of all parties. The ately, and discovered the negroes crowded upon the stairs in the wildest disorder. Some were endeavoring to support and assist the wounded; some were struggling to force their way down through those below them; and others were looking upward, in a state of confusion and dismay, which prevented them from advancing and retreating. Another volley from Eugene sent the dying, wounded and unhurt, headlong together down the stairs. There was for some time a comparative stillness in the house. Some of the wounded were dragged from the stairs, and others were left to perish where they had fallen. Their groans were now almost the only noise that was heard. The spirit of the negroes seemed for the present to be completely quelled. They moved as if afraid of the noise of their own steps, and spoke only in whispers. They seemed at length to collect themselves into a room in which there was a case of liquors. A noise was heard, which Eugene conceived to be the wrenching open of locks. "The madness of intoxication" thought he," will now be added to the brutal passions of these wretches." 66 stairs. One of them now called to Eugene, and demanded a parley. It was their apparent leader; the same who had murdered Mons. L. He ascended the stairs until he reached the first landing. Stop," said Eugene," you are near enough; let me hear what you have to propose." The negro was about half intoxicated. He had little to say, except reiterated threats of vengeance against Eugene, if he should persevere in his resistance. "We will fire the house," he added, finally, "if we cannot subdue you in any other way." "We are determined to perish in the flames," replied Eugene, " rather than trust ourselves in your hands. And remember," he added, "that we are in sight of the town of - A fire must alarm the inhabitants, and bring down a body of troops upon you." The negro seemed struck by this reasoning, and was silent. "If you will give up the wo men," he at length resumed. "I will fire upon the messenger who dares to name such terms to me again," interrupted Eugene, involuntarily raising his gun. The negro retreated hastily to his companions. We have said, that in his intercourse with the world, there was about Eugene an air of reserve, which might almost have been taken for listless indifference to what was passing around him. But his manner was now changed. The latent enthusiasm of his character was comThere was now an affectation of stillness and pletely roused. As the night wind blew aside the dark hair from his lofty forehead, its lines secrecy in their movements, which led Eugene spoke of one whose element was danger. His to apprehend some new mode of attack. He was eyes flashed from under his brow, but their fire not disappointed. In a few moments, their leader was that of collectedness and resolution. He was was seen springing up the stairs; the main body fully alive to all the perils of his situation, and of the negroes following at a short distance. It prepared to use every human means to avert was obviously their aim to distract Eugene's atthem. There was a flush upon his cheek, and tention. "I must keep back the crowd," thought proud curl upon his lips, which almost amounted he, "and cope with the single negro as well as to a smile. But for his anxious glances towards I may." What we have taken so long to explain, Theresa, it might have been supposed from his was conveyed to Eugene by a single glance and countenance alone, that he was in a state of po- he fired both of his double barrels into the main a single thought. With the rapidity of lightning sitive enjoyment; far happier than when engaged in the rustic fetes of the island, silent and lonely body, and the next instant their leader was upon and indifferent to the noisy folly and childish re- there was no time to fire. He succeeded in him. Eugene had caught up his musket, but velry of those around them. partly parrying a blow aimed at him by the slave, with a scythe. The weapon, however, entered his left side and glanced against his ribs. Before the stroke could be repeated, the negro received a heavy blow upon his head from the butt of Eugene's musket. He was stunned for an instant, and fell with his body across the balustrade of the staircase. He was struggling to recover himself, when Eugene, by another blow, hurled him from his precarious situation. He fell heavily to the lower floor, and lay without motion. The main body of the negroes had been driven back by Eugene's fire, and had patiently awaited the result of his single combat with their leader. In person as well as character, Theresa was strikingly alike her lover. Her mother had buried her face in the bed of the room in which Eugene had placed them, and was apparently stupified by terror. But Theresa stood near the open door and gazed upon Eugene. Her hands were clasped, and she was pale and motionless as a statue. But there was firmness and selfpossession in her countenance; and a proud glance of her eye showed that even in that hour of fearful peril, she could sympathize with the spirit of her lover. The negroes in the mean time had been preparing themselves, by intoxication, for another attack. Their silence had gradually yielded to a confused mixture of voices, which was now swelled into a riotous tumult. They were evidently again approaching, with imprecations of vengeance, upon Eugene. They paused a moment at the foot of the stairs, and were heard encouraging each other to be foremost in the attack. They again rushed forward in a tumultuous body, but they were only half reassured. They paused voluntarily before reaching the fatal landing place, and a single fire from Eugene was sufficient to drive them back. In this attempt, however, their loss was trifling, and they still remained assembled at the foot of the "I have broken my best gun," was the first thought of Eugene, as he looked at the fragment of the musket, which he still held in his hand. "1 am wounded, too," he added, as he now felt for the first time, the smartling pain of the gash in his side. "God grant that I may not be seriously hurt; I shall need all my strength to bear me through this fearful night." "I must borrow your scarf, Theresa," he said, stepping into the room in which she stood. "Are you much hurt?" inquired Theresa, glancing at his bloody vest, and raising her eyes anxiously to his face. "Very slightly," replied Eugene, drawing the A TALE OF ST. DOMINGO-HOPE. scarf around his body. "I am only afraid of being weakened by the loss of blood. Let me bind it for you," said Theresa, taking the ends of the scarf from his hands," you can reload your gun." 207 Near to the door was the body of Maria's father. He moved while Louis was looking into the room. He made an effort to raise himself upon his elbow, but failed; another, and he succeeded. He passed his hand across his bloody face to wipe away the clotted gore from his eyes. The hand of death was upon him, yet he struggled to gain a view of the objects before him. Apparently he succeeded, for he sunk back with a groan, and moved no more. Louis hastened to his companions, and they reached the sea shore in safety. hearth lay the corpse of an infant. Its fractured skull, and the revolting stains upon the chimney piece, showed too plainly the mode of its death. Near the centre of the room lay the corpse of a girl of eighteen. "Poor Maria!" thought Louis, The wound was soon bound, and the guns re-as he recognized his partner at the last fete. loaded. Eugene stationed himself once more at the head of the stairs. All was now still. The negroes had not been heard of since the fall of their leader. With an anxious heart Eugene remained at his post. Hour after hour passed away, and still no sound was heard, but the faint groans of the wounded, and the slow, measured dropping of blood from the staircase, which struck upon Eugene's ear like the ticking of a death-watch. His strength was exhausted, and his spirit almost broken by anxiety and fatigue, joined to the sick faintness and burning thirst produced by his wound. He felt repeatedly that There is a huge cliff in this part of St. Domishe was upon the point of swooning. By a pow-go, which hangs over the sea with a small marerful exertion of the will, like that with which a drowsy man arouses himself from slumber, he succeeded in rallying his faculties and preserving himself from falling. At length the sound of steps was heard once more in the saloon. A single figure ascended the stairs, and looked anxiously upward. "They are white men!" exclaimed Eugene, and fell senseless to the floor. When he recovered he was lying upon a bed, and Louis L, the brother of Theresa, was leaning over him. This young man resided in the neighboring town, for the more convenient prosecution of his studies. The insurrection had extended alike to town and country, and Louis had escaped with difficulty. He had hurried to his father's house, where the first object that met his eyes was his father's corpse. "Are you able to travel," said he to Eugene, as the latter raised himself upon the bed. Eugene replied in the affirmative. "Shall we make for the mountain or sea shore?" "The sea shore, by all means," replied Eugene," we may get on board of a vessel, and reach the United States." "We are going to a land of strangers," said Theresa, "let me get my own and my mother's jewels." While they were making their preparations, Eugene removed the body of Theresa's father to an adjoining room. They would have been compelled to pass it in leaving the house. The young men bore the females in their arms over the stairs, cumbered as they were with dead bodies, and slippery with blood. "My father!" exclaimed Theresa, in the thrilling tones of filial grief, as she passed the place where he had fallen. There were two houses which it was necessary that our party should pass, in order to reach the sea shore. By a small circuit they were able to keep at some distance from the first. It was on fire, and the negroes were dancing around it with the wild gestures of demons. They were compelled to pass immediately in front of the other house. As they approached, they found that it was lighted. Eugene stopped with the females, and Louis went forward to reconnoitre. He advanced to a window of the room, in which the light was burning. All was still within. On the gin of sand between its base and the water. In the face of the rock, Eugene and Louis in one of their fowling expeditions had discovered a cave; small at its entrance, but increasing in size, and extending to some distance in the body of the rock. In this cave the whole party was safely concealed, just at the dawn of day. My tale is nearly told. The increasing light discovered to Eugene several vessels in view. He was fortunate enough to attract the notice of the nearest of them, which proved to be bound for New York. Eugene and Theresa were married of course, soon after they reached the United States. They may still be found, by any one who will take the trouble to search for them, living in honored old age in one of the fairest valleys of our western country. B. B. From the Saturday Evening out Hope is a bright and beaming star, Joy emanates from ev'ry ray; It wafts on high to heaven his prayer! And sheds its bright effulgence there! The mountain torrent's foaming rage, Is call'd to close its short career, Fix'd in the firmament afar; DELTA. |
