[1833. house. I think I recollect hearing you say that you liked flowers mixed with ribbons; that is not altogether to my taste, I confess; but I suspect higher authority I shall be obliged to yield my judgment to I have already spoken of the colours which I thought likely to prevail. This is now determined, and the prevailing colours will be mais* and dalia. The first being the lighter colour, will be the most distingue. Dalia is seen in most houses; I much regret that it should be so universal, as it is so very becoming. Fortunately, however, it is only much worn in bonnets. If From a series of letters from a lady in Paris to her you entrust me with any commission for the prefriend in London. MY DEAR LOUISA, I have been several times to the Italian Opera, and have yet observed nothing really remarkable in the style of dress. There is little change. There are many ladies who still go en neglige. sent season, I shall send you a dress of velours epingle armure of dalia, as this is still a choice colour for dress. Bonnets continue to be worn frightfully small. I confess to you that I find them quite extravagant. It is difficult to understand how the good houses could ever have en 1 however observed many of our most fashiona-couraged any thing so absurd. Herbault has ble women at the representation of "La Reprise de Mo se" at the French Opera, who had evidently bestowed great care on their dress. The countess of C- displayed the best taste. She wore a dress of velours mousseline, dalia colour; the corsage flat with a rich blonde mantilla which fastened before. The long chantilly sleeves were remarkably beautiful. Her hair was most tastefully dressed with white feathers of moderate length, and pearls. I observed more ladies with Marabout's plumes and golden wheat, than last year. Flowers in the hair seem to be less worn. The make of dresses change so little, that there is scarcely any thing new to describe. One of our first dress-makers, however, has assured me, that trimmings will again become the fashion this winter for ball dresses. This I know will please you; for plain dresses, such as were worn last season, could be made by almost any lady's maid, while now we may be distinguished by the choice of an elegant trimming, which will render it easy to discover a dress made at a good made me one which is universally admired; this somewhat reconciles me to it; it is of mais satin, lined with velours epingle of the same colour, with a frimatee feather, and a single bow at the side. I think I have already told you that morning bonnets are no longer worn without a little blonde cap under. Next week there is to be a grand assembly on the domains of the Duchess D'O-. I have had some extremely pretty things made for the occasion;-a satin pelisse of rose Jericho, a little trimmed in front and a draperies croisees, with which I intend to wear my mais bonnet. For dress a robe de moire rose rayee satinee, with long netsleeves, and the corsage trimmed with blonde. I intend also to wear a small white crape hat with two feathers. I have had a present of a magnificent blue cashemire cloak, with large palm borders, and palms for the tippets The effect is splendid. You may judge how delighted I was at receiving Indian corn; this is a Russian term. 50 I CANNOT GRIEVE-THE OUTLAW OF THE PINES. it; nothing can be more elegant; and I expect it will be much admired by the company at the chateau. I have also a very pretty cap, smart and youthful, a thing by no means common in that description of head-dress. It is of blonde, with flowers at the side, and a wreath behind, disposed in such a manner as to show the arrangement of the hair. Aprons have a very delightful effect when worn under the dressing-gowns, which I admired above all things. The latter are made of India muslin or in batiste linon, worked all over, or a colonnes gothiques; and they have large pelerines trimmed with Valenciennes. The collars are also trimmed with the same lace. These dressing-gowns are so worked as to hide the seams. They are all lined with marceline of different colours. For some time the corbeilles in which the shawls were presented, have been superseded by a coffret. I have seen the one intended for Mademoiselle B-. It is made of Palysandre wood -of an exceedingly elegant shape, lined with white velvet, and the arms inlaid on the cover, which is quite a novelty. The little gold key is in the best taste. I have only seen two of the cashemire shawls of which this coffret will be the future repository. The one is square, of vert anglais with a large border, corner and rosaces. The other is a long one, harlequin, with a black ground. They are both extremely beautiful. I saw Mademoiselle de D- yesterday. She was better dressed than ever. You know her passion for chalis. We always see her with the newest patterns, but I never saw any thing so pretty as she wore yesterday. It was striped, blue, orange, and white, in bouquets de cashemire. As she is rather stout, the stripes suit her admirably. Believe me yours affectionately, From the Saturday Evening Post. "I CANNOT GRIEVE." The fondest dream of happiness My spirit ever knew, The brightest picture of success My fancy ever drew The base of hopes, as purely bright Yes! 'twas the source whence I obtained My spirit will not deign to bow It never will repine. No power now can break the spell, My shattered hopes retrieve; Yet grief shall ne'er my bosom swell, RUSTICUS. PRIZE TALE. [The subjoined TALE, from the pen of A. Н. SMITH, Esq. has been accepted by the committee as entitled to the premium of one hundred dollars, offered by the publisher of the Casket, for the best Tale, founded on incidents connected with American History. A large number of articles was sent in, many of which, however, had no reference to the subject desired, but showing the versatility of talent, as the real ability of American writers in general. From among all these, the following has been selected as the best. The literary execution is highly creditable; the incidents are stirring and remarkable; the point in our national history chosen by the writer may be said to be its very crisis; and we doubt not of our readers being well pleased with this new gem struck out by the touch of literary emulation.] The Outlaw of the Pines. A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION. In the autumn and winter of 1776, the people of New Jersey, experienced their share of the miseries of civil war. During no period of the Revolutionary contest, did the regulars of the royal service, so shamefully transgress the laws of humanity, or the rules of civilized warfare ; as when in their march through the Jerseys, boasting of the conquest over the "rebels," as already achieved, they drove before them the dispirited and tentless army of the Colonies. But horrible as were the outrages committed by the chivalry of Britain, upon helpless women, and superannuated men, they were followed by an effect, eminently serviceable to the good cause. Another and more patriotic spirit was roused in the bosoms of the hitherto peaceful and indifferent inhabitants. While the victorious army occupied the country, almost without the shadow of open opposition, and its commander was making his arrangements for the future government of the Colony, that spirit was busily at work, gathering fresh vigor from every new instance of brutality. Silently, but resolutely the militia was organized, and prepared for insurrection at the proper moment. The victories of Trenton and Princeton, were received as the signals for action. The enemy, forced to retire upon New Brunswick, found himself at every step of his retreat watched, opposed, and pursued by the maddened yeomanry of New Jersey. From this time forth, the militia of that Colony redeemed its character, and under their favorite leader, Gen. Maxwell, did good service. They never forgot or forgave the oppression or the oppressor, and needed no other incentive to bring them into the field-thus teaching the invaders a lesson, which they might, at less cost, have learned from history, that to retain the obedience of a people. their affections must be secured, by kind and equitable treatment. At the period of my story, the royal army was in almost peaceful possession of the Jerseys, from Burlington to New York. Washington, with the remnant of his disbanding army, had retired over the Delaware. Earl Cornwallis, in rather premature contempt of his enemy, talked of "keeping the King's peace in New Jersey, with a Cor 1 poral's guard," and had disposed of his troops, | needle-work of the company, sat a handsome old with more regard to their comfort than security, man of about sixty, whose ruddy complexion, for the winter, in Burlington, Bordentown, Tren- clear eye and erect form, bore evidence to an ac ton, &c., till spring should enable him to prosecute and complete his conquests. It was late in December; the cold for the season, was unusually severe, and the troops rarely stirred from their quarters to visit the interior. This respite would have been refreshing to the harrassed inhabitants, had not the withdrawal of the regular soldiery left too free scope for the more desperate followers of King George, or for others who usurped his authority, as a pretence for the most disgusting violence, and oftentimes murder. Of the latter class, the most terrible, and still remembered in the traditions of the country, was one FAGAN, the leader of about twenty ruffians -whose perfect insensibility to the ordinary fears and feelings of humanity, made him the fit chief of such a brotherhood. If nature ever produced a perfect wretch, without a single redeeming trait in his character, Fagan was he. There was no interesting romance about his motives or his deeds. For the pleasure of my readers and the success of my tale, I wish there had been. But alas! he was actuated by a poetic hatred to the race, goaded by no undeserved contumely. He simply robbed for gain, and murdered to conceal the robbery. Tradition, which loves to dwell upon the honesty of thieves and the generosity of outlaws, has handed down no deed of his to relieve the blackness of his name; and history assures, that he possessed no quality in common with the Corsairs and Massaroni's of modern romance, but their courage and their guilt. The hiding-place of the band was in the pine barrens of New Jersey, and they thence received the title of the Pine Robbers, from the people of this country. Multiplied instances of violence upon women, and even mere children, who fell into their power, had rendered them the terror of all classes, sexes and ages. Still, in consequence of the unhappy state of the country, overrun without being protec protected by the English army, they uniformly escaped the punishment due to their crimes. The whigs charged their doings to the credit of the tories and refugees; but the calumny was undeserved. The robbers were against both, and favored neither. They plundered a tory in the name of Congress and the Continent, and were true "liegemen to the Crown," when an unfortunate whig chanced within their power. The period of my tale was admirably calculated for their operations and industriously improved. I must now introduce my reader to the interior of a farm-house, not many miles from Trenton, upon the high road leading to Bordentown, and within view of the Delaware. The appearance of things denoted comfort and ease, if not wealth. Before an enormous hearth, upon which burned tive spirit, and unbroken constitution. Though his dress strictly accorded, a physiognomist would have doubted his adherence in all things, to the rules of his sect; and a patriot would have regretted to see the strength that frame exhibited, devoted to the tillage rather than the defence of the soil. In truth, Nathaniel, or as he was generally called, Nathan Collins, had been disowned by the meeting for divers irregularities since the commencement of the contest, savoring too much of the "world's ways;" and especially for encouraging his two sons to join the army. Though "dealt with" after their fashion, and proud rather than convinced of his misdeeds, Nathan retained the dress, manners and opinions in which he had been educated, and upon all occasions, exhibited a most jealous regard for the principles and character of the society, when assailed by those whom it rather complacently terms "world's people," as distinguished by that singularly gifted handful, who obey the discipline of Friends." It was in expectation of the return of these young men from the army, whence they were expected to be discharged for the winter, that the family waited at the unusual and ominous hour, above recorded. In order to avoid the notice of the Hessians at Trenton, they had chosen the night to cross the river, and had been expected at least an hour before. The other "Friends" were females. Hannah Collins, Nathan's companion, was a fine looking portly old-lady, we should say, were it not strictly against the discipline-for lady she was. Though we must, lest offence should come, designate Friend Hannah as an old woman. Rachel-no matter for her other name-was in her fortieth year, and stood in about that degree of relationship to the family. She was prim, complacent, kind-hearted and single, and now on a visit to "Cousin Hannah." Amy, Nathan's daughter, completed the party now assembled, and was an animated specimen of that very interesting, mischievous and simple-hearted class of young women, who dress plainly-when they cannot help it-and marry out of meeting, when they please, whether "friends consent" or not. She was clad in strict conformity to the letter of the law; there was no forbidden color, or unlawful garment, but so as to infringe its spirit as far as she dare, by a certain nameless arrangement of the materials, showing to great advantage a perfect figure and most winning face, for quaker girls are but mortal women after all. Amy and her father sat in silence, watching with great apparent anxiety, the progress of the fire. The two elder ladies were in conversation which, however, was principally carried on by Cousin Rachel, and did not seem particularly the remnant of a mighty fire, sat four individuals. to interest the mother, whose attention was fre The clock-I do not wish to create unnecessary uneasiness-but the clock had just told one. The dress of the party, indicated their connexion with that peculiar society, " by the world called Quakers." Contrary to their usual habit of industry, they were unemployed, and evidently waiting at that late hour, some unusual event. Beside a table, on which lay the relinquished books, and quently attracted by the tread of passengers on the road, or by the wind, which sounded like human voices in the distance, as it gently moaned through two or three pines, which stood near the house. The former was discoursing of some meeting, at which she had been present. "I hope nothing has happened to the boys,' interrupted the father, rising from his seat and "Perhaps, father, they have failed to cross the river," said Amy, "it was choaked with ice at sundown." "The boys would not mind that-surely those lazy Hessians have not ventured out this cold night." Something may have made their stay necessary, if it be true that the army has almost all deserted, they cannot be spared, and would not wish to be." "I hope not; but I don't believe it; it is an English falsehood intended to discourage us." "Indeed, Nathan, I fear it is true, more particularly by what is reported of their suffering state," said Hannah. "Does thee? then I have it on my mind to follow the boys, what dost think, Hannah? and show them how an old quaker can fight, they say the young ones do pretty well." "Oh Nathan, how thee talks." "I am in earnest, Hannah! If I were sure Fagan would not pay you a visit in my absence." Footsteps were heard advancing up the avenue from the road. "There they are at last," eagerly exclaimed Amy. "Let me see," said Nathan, as with the placid manner, characteristic of a Friend, he moved to a window which commanded a view of the kitchen door, at which a knocking had commenced. He could distinguish six men, armed and equipped like militia men, and another, whose pinioned arms proclaimed him a prisoner. His sons were not of the party: and as the persons of the strangers were unknown, and the guise of militia man often assumed by Fagan, our friend was not easy in his mind how to act." His first idea was to feign deafness, but a second knock, loud enough to wake all but the dead, changed his intention-he raised the window and hailed the inen: "Friends, what's your will?" "A little refreshment of fire and food, if you please; we have been far on duty, and are half frozen and quite starved." "We don't entertain them who go to war." "Yes, but you will not refuse a little refreshment to poor fellows like us, this cold night; this would be as much against the principle of your society as war." "Thee's from Trenton?" "No, 1 thank you; Nathan Collins is too well known as a friend to the country, and an honest man, to aid a refugee-we know that." "Soap the old fox well," whispered one of the band. "Come, friend, make haste and let us in, we are almost famished, and have far to go before sunrise, or we may change places with our prisoner here, before sunset." "But what does the party here, this side the river, right under the Hessians' nose, if-" "Oh, we are minute men, sent from within, by Capt. Smallcress, to seize this deserter-don't you mean to let us in?" Nathan closed the window and said " I don't know what to make of these men-Amy call the boys: tell them make haste and bring their guns, but keep them out of sight, where they will be handy." As the command was obeyed, and the three young men, laborers on the farm, appeared, and placed their guns behind the inner, their master unbolted the outer door and admitted five of the armed mer-the prisoner and one of his captors remaining without. Nathan thought this unnecessary of so cold a night, and a little suspicious -" Will not thy companions enter also." "No-thank you; he guards the prisoner." "But why may not the prisoner too?" "Pshaw! he's nothing but a deserter. The cold will be good for him." "I must say," quoth Nathan, 'exèrcised,' as he afterwards owned, past endurance, "thy conduct neither becomes thy nature as a man, or thy calling, which should teach thee more feeling-I'll take the poor fellow something to eat myself." The old man had reached the door on his merciful errand, meaning it is true, to satisfy his curiosity at the same time, when he who had acted as leader of the party, sprang from his chair, and placing his hand on his host's breast, pushed him rudely back." Stand back-back, I say"-and then in a cooler air-"and mind your own business, if you are a quaker." There was a momentary struggle in Nathan's mind, whether to knock the fellow down, as from appearances he easily might, or to yield, in obedience to his principles. "It was strongly on his mind," he confessed, to pursue the former course; but prudence conquered, and he quietly withdrew to the upper end of the apartment, where his men lounged on a bench, apparently half asleep, and indistinctly visible in the light of the fire and one small candle, which burned near the strangers. In the interim, the old cook had been summoned, and had arranged some cold provisions on the table. "Old Annie," as she was universally called, must be introduced in form. She was the child of Indian and mulatto parents, but possessed none of the features of her darker relation, except a capacious mouth, and lip to match. She refused to associate with either negroes or Indians, considering herself as belonging to neither, and indulging a sovereign contempt for both. Her favorite term of reproach was "Injin" and "Nigger," and when they failed separately to express her feelings, she put the two together, a compliment always paid the Hessians, when she had occasion to mention them. A party of these marauders had, on a visit to her master's house, stolen her fall's store of sausages; thenceforth she vowed eternal enmity to the race, a vow she never forgot to the day of her death. The strangers ate their repast, showing any thing but confidence in their entertainer, and ate, each man with his gun resting on his shoulder. During the whole meal, he who called himself their captain, was uneasy and restless. For some time he appeared to be engaged in a very close scrutiny of the household, who occupied the other end of the kitchen-a scrutiny which, owing to the darkness, could not yield him much satisfaction. He then whispered anxiously and angrily with his men, who answered in a dogged obstinate fashion, that evidently displeased him; |