LIBERTY...!, THE CONSTITUTION.. ..UNION
NEWBKRN, FRIDAY, JULY 26, J833.
BY THOMAS WATSON.
Three dollars per annum, payable in advance.
From the New York Mirror.
- First Impressions of Europe.
NUMBER FIFTY-ONE. (BY N. P. WILLIS.)
Torentioe peculiarities society balls ducal entertainments
privilege of gtrangeri families of high rank the exclusives
t3ireei partiies f a rich banker peasant beaut visitors of a
h&roness- kward deportment of a prince a contented married
jjybusbands, cavaliersand wires personal manners Labitsof
I am about starting on my second visit to
Rome, after having passed nearly three months
in Florence, As I have seen most of thesoci-
hnc II IliaV UUfc -'-- uiiiiiiv-iviini" iv UI.UU1 l U. Jil-
tip from the traveller s routine, by sketching
a feature or two. t lorence is a resort lor stran
gers from every part of the world. The gay
society is a mixture of all nations, of whortf
one third may be Florentine, one- third En
glish and the remaining part equally divided be
tu cen Russians, Germans, French, P6les and
Americans. The English entertain a great
deal, and give most of the balls and dinner par
tics. The Florentines seldom trouble them
selves to give parties but arc always at home
for visits in the prima sera, (from seven till
nine,) and in their box at the opera. They go,
without scruple, to all the strangers balls, con
sidering courtesy repaid, perhaps by the
weekly reception of the grand duke, and a
weekly ball at the club-house of young Italian
The dural entertainments occur every Tues
dav, and are the most splendid of course. The
foreitrn ministers prcsentall of their countrymen
who have bf fn presented at tneir own courts,
i the company is necessarily '-more select
se where. he riorentmes who go to
about seven hundred, ol whom
invited on each week strangers,
i i -.. i lit
pro-;? n.ieu, navmg uic uouoie privi-
1 rxf ' )( i-:UM2 urn.ivited to ;all. Iii'-re are
several Italian families, of the highest rank,
who are eeen only here ; but with the single
exception of one unmarried girl, of uncom
mon beauty, who bears a name celebrated in
Italian history, they are no loss to geneial so
ciety. Among the foreigners of rank, are three
or four German princes, who play high, waltz
well, and are remarkable for nothing else; half
a dozen star-wearing dukes, counts and
anises, of all nations and in any quantity,
and a few F.ngish noblemen and noble ladies on
ly the latter nation showing their blood at all in
their features and bearing.
The most exclusive society is that of the
Prince Montfort, (Jerome Bonaparte,) whose
splendid palace is shut entirely against the
English, and difficult of access to all. He
makes a single exception in favor of a descend
ant of the Talhots, a lady whose beauty
might be an apology for a much graver de
parture from rule. , lie has given two grand
entertainments since the carnival commenced,
to which nothing, was wanting but people to
enjoy them. The immense rooms were flood
ed with light, the music was the best that Flor
ence could give, the supper might have sup
ped an army stars and red ribbons entered
with every fresh comer, but it looked like a
"banquet hall deserted. " Some thirty ladies,
and as many men, were all that Florence con
tained worthy of the society of the ex-king. A
A kinder man in his manners, however, appar
ently a more affectionate husband and father,
I never saw. He opened the dance by waltzing
with the young Princes, his daughter, a love
ly girl of fourteen, of whom he seems fond to
excess, and he was quite the gayest person in
the company till the ball was over. The ex
Cjiieen, who is a miracle of size, sat on a divan,
with her ladies of honor about her, following
her husband with her eyes, and enjoying his
gafeTy with the most childish good humor.
The Saturday evening soirees, at Prince
Poniatowski's, (a brother of the hero,) are
perhaps as agreeable as anv in Florence. He
nas several grown up sons and daughters mar
ried, and, with a very sumptuous palace and
reat liberality of style, he has made his par
ties more than us'ually valued. His eldest
daughter is the leader of the fashion, and his
second is the " i
cynosure of all eves
oia prince is a tall, bent, venerable
snow-white nair, and. peculiarly marked fea
tures. He is fond of speaking English, and
professes a great affection for America.1
Then there are the soirees ofthe rich banker
tenzi, which as they are subservient to busi-; nary strength exhibited a number of his princi
ness, assemble all ranks on the pretensions of j pal performances, though in a manner greatly
interest. At the last, I saw among other curi-! inferior to Joyce.
osities, a young girl of eighteen from one of j ' Some time afterwards, John Charles Van
'he more common families in Florence a j Eckeberg, a native of Harzegerode in Anhalt,
tine specimen of the peasant beauty of Italy. ! travelled through Europe, under the appella
Her heavily moulded figure, hands and'jtion of Samson, exhibiting remarkable exam
fcet, were quite forgiven when you looked at pies of his strength. This, we believe, is the
her dark deep, indolent eye, and
ueep, inuoieni ey e, ami giowing j
?Kin, and strongly lined mouth and forehead.
The society was evidently new to her, but sha
hd a manner quite beyond being astonished.
It was the kind ofannimal dignity so universal
in the lower classes of this country.
A German baroness of high rank receives
on the Mondays, and here one sees for
eign society in its highest colouring. The
Prettiest woman that frequents her parties, is a !
Woese marchioness, who has left her husband j
t live with a Lucchese count, who has left, his
wfe. He is a very accomplished man. with
he look of Mephistopheles in the "DeviPs
alk," and she is certainly a most fascinating
wman -She is received in most of the good
society in Florence a 6evere, though a very
just comment on its character. A prince, the
Mother of the king of Prussia, divided the at
ention of the company with her the last
Monday. He is a tall, military looking man,
-wu very bad manners, ill at ease, and impu-
nt at the same time. He entered with his t
uiJ in the middle of a song. The singer stop- j
F?3 the company rose, the prince swept a-1
bout, bowing like a dancing-master, and after
the sensation had subsided, the ladies were ta
ken up and presented to him, one by one. He
asked them all the same question, staid through
two songs, which he spoiled by talking loud
ly all the while, and then bowed himself out in
the same awkward style, leaving every body
more happy for his departure.
One gains little by his opportunities of meet
ing Italian ladies in society. The cavalier
servente flurishes still, as in the days of Bep
po, and it is to him only that the lady conde
scends to talk. There is a delicate, refined look
ing marchoiness here, who is remarkable as
beinff the only known Italian lady without a
cavalier. They tell you with an amused smile
that she is content with her husband.' It
reallv seems to be a business of real love be-
.itween the ladv of Italy and her cavalier. JNa
turnllv pnnnorb too for her parents marry her
without consulting her at all, and she selects
a friend afterwards, as ladies in other countries
select a lover, who is to end in a husband.
The married couple are never seen together
by any accident, and the lady and her cav
alier never apart. The latter is always invited
with her as a matter of course, and the hus
band if there is ;oom, or if he is not forgotten.
She is insulted if asked without a cavalier, but
is quite indifferent whether her husband goes
with her or not. These are points really set
tled in the policy of society, and the rights of
the cavalier are specified in the marriage con
tracts. I had thought until I came to Italy,
that such things were either, a romance, or
customs of an age gone by.
I like very much the personal manners of
the Italians. They are mild and courteous to
the farthest extent of looks and words. They
do not entertain, it is true, -but their great
dim rooms are free to you whenever you can
find them at home, and you are at liberty to
join the gossipping circle around the lady of
the house, or sit at the table and read, or be
silent unquestioned. You are let alone, if you
seem to choose it, and it is neither commented
on, nor thought uncivil, and this I take to be
a grand excellence in manners.
The society is dissolute, I think, almost
without an exception. The English fall into
its habits, with the difference that they do not
conceal it so well, and have the appearance of
knowing it is wrong which the Italians have
not. The latter are very much shocked at the
want of propriety in the management of the
English. To suffer the particulars of an in
trigue to get about is a worse sin, in their eyes, J
than any violation of the commandments. It
is scarce possible for an American to conceive
the universal' corruption of a society like this
of Florence, though, it he were not told of it,
he would think it all that was delicate and at
tractive. There are external features in which
the society of our own country is far less scru
pulous and proper.
FEATS OF STRENGTH.
Dr. Brewster, in his work on Natural Magic,
(Family Library, No. 50) gives some striking
instances of muscular strength, and also of the
effect produced by applying the principles of
the mechanical powers to the human frame,
from which we extract the following.
Firmus, a native of Selencia, who was exe
cuted by the emperor Aurelia for espousing
the cause of Zenobia, was celebrated for his
feats of strength. In his account of the life of
Firmus, who lived in the third century, Vopis
cus informs us, that he could suffer iron to
be forged upon an anvil placed upon his
breast. In doing this, he lay upon his back
and resting his feet and shoulders against some
support, his whole body formed an arch, as we
shall afterwards more particularly explain.
Until the end of the sixteenth century, the ex
hibition of such feats does not seem to have
About the year 1603, a native of Kent, of the
name of Joyce, exhibited such feats of strength
in London and other parts of England, that he
received the name of the second Samson. His
own personal strength was very great; but he
had also discovered, without the aid of theory,
various positions of the body, in which men of
common strength could perform very surpri
sing feats. He drew against horses and raised
enormous weights ; but as he actually exhibited
his power in ways which evinced the enor
mous strength of his own muscles, all his feats
were ascribed to the same cause. In the course
of eight or ten years, however, his methods
were disrnvprpd. and manv individuals of ordi-
same person whose feats are particularly de
scribed by Dr. Desajruliers. He was a man of
the middle size, and of ordinary strength ; and,
as Dr. Desaguliers was convinced that his feats
were exhibitions of skill, and not of strength,
he was desirous of discovering his methods;
and, with this view, he went to see him, ac
companied by the Marquis of Tullibardine, Dr.
Alexander fctuart, and Dr. Pringle, and his own
mechanical operator. THpv nlaeed themselves
round the German, so as to be able to observe
all that hp did
1 ll A. A 1 -.
mai mey were able to perform most of the feats
uie same eveninor hw tKflmminr ol oat
all the rest when they had provided the DroDer
apparatus. Dr. Desaguliers exhibited some of
the experiments before the royal society, and
has given such a distinct explanation of the
principles on which they depend, that we shall
enaeavour to give a popular account of them.
1. The performer sat upon an inclined board
with his feet a little hirrher tban hi h;
feet were placed against an nnrit ori ,ii
O IAALSlJ A-?
secured. Round his loins was placed a strong
girdle, with an iron ring in front. To this
uug a uFc was iastened. The rope passed
between his legs through a hole in th
board, against vyhich his feet were brared, and
several men or fwo horses, pulling on the rope
out of his place.
He also fastened a rope to a hio-h nnt nA
having, passed it through an iron eye fixed in
the side of the post some feet lower down, se
cured it to his girdle. He then planted his feet
against the post near the iron eye, withhis legs
contracted, and jsuddenly stretching out his legs
broke the rope,j and fell backwards on a feather
3. In imitation of Firmus, he laid himself
down on the gjou.nd, and when an anvil was
placed upon his; breast, a man hammered with
all his foice a pjece of iron, with a sledge-hammer,
and sometimes two smiths cut in two with
chisels a great! cold bar of iron laid upon the
anvil. At othet times a stone of huge dimen
sions was laid upon his belly, and broken with
a blow ofthe great hammer.
4. The performer then placed his shoulders
upon one chairj and his heels upon another,
forming with his back-bone, thighs and legs,
an arch. One or two men then stood upon
his belly, rising up and down while the per
former breathed. A stone, one and a half feet
long, one foot broad and half a foot thick,
was then placed upon his belly and bro
ken by a sledge-hammer an operation which
was performed with much less danger than
when his back touched the ground.
- 5. His next feat was to lie do wn on the ground.
A man being then placed on his knees, he
drew his heels towards his body, and, raising
his knees, be lifted the man gradually, till, ha
ving brought his knees perpendicularly under
him, he raised his own body up, and placing
his arms round the man's legs, rose with him,
and set him down on some low table or emi
nence of the same height as his kneess. This
feat he sometimes performed with two men in
place of one.
(5. In his last, and apparently most wonder
ful performance, he was elevated on a frame
work, and supported a heavy cannon placed
upon a scale at some distance below him which
fixed to a rope attached to his ffirdle.
the fixing ofthe scale to the rope
his girdle, the cannon and scale
rollers ; but when all was ready,
the rollers were knocked away, and the cannon
remained supported by the strength of his loins.
These feats may be brieflyexplained thus:
The feats number one, two, and six, depend
entirely on the natural strength of the bones
of the pelvis, which form a double arch, which
it would requirei an immense force to break,
by any external pressure directed to the centre
of the arch ; and as the legs and thighs are ca
pable of sustaining four or five thousand pounds
when they stand'quite upright, the pqrformer.
has no difficulty in resisting the force of two
horses, or in sustaining the weight of a cannon
I weighing two or three thousand pounds. The
: feat of the anvil is certainly a very7 surprising
; one. The difficulty, however, really consists
in sustaining the ahvil ; for when this is done, the
effect ofthe hamrpering is nothing. Iftheanvil
were a thin piece 6f iron, or even two or three
times heavier than the hammer, the performer
would be killed by a few blows; but the blows are
scarcely felt when the anvil is vf ry heavy, for
the more matter the anvil has, the greater is its
inertia, and it is less liable to be struck out of
its place; for when it has received by the blow
the whole momentum of the hammer, its ve
locity will be so much less than that of the'
hammer as its quantity of matter is greater.
When the blow, j indeed, is struck, the man
feels less of the weight of the anvil than he did
before, because, ih the reaction of the stone, all
the parts round about the hammer rise towards
the blow. This property is illustrated by the
well-known experiment of laying a stick with
its end upon two drinking glasses full of water,
and striking the stjick downwards in the middle
with an iron bar.i The stick will in this case
be broken, without breaking the glasses or
spilling the wateri But if the stick is struck
upwards, as if to throw it up in the air, the
glasses will break if the blow be strong, and if
the blow is not vjery quick the water will be
spilt without breaking the glasses. When the
performer support a man upon his belly, he
does it bv means of the strong arch formed by
his back bone and the bones of his legs and
thighs. If there was room for them, he could
bear three or four, or, in their stead, a great
stone, to be broken with one blow.
The following biting satire we copy from a
late New York paper.
Scene : A Drawing-room in New-York. Pre
sent sundry fashionable ladies, together with
Black Hawk and his party.
Belinda Smugg.-U-Oh ! what a noble figure
Young Hawk is !
Arabella Skugg.MVoble ! that he is ! What
a chest he's got ! what a muscular frame ! (with
a deep sigh) how different from the diminutive,
slender, bean-pole looking creatures among our
white gentlemen : Fie ! I shall never want to
look upon a white man again.
Amelia Simpkins. Nor I either. Our white
men are like a satyr to Hyperion, compared
Belinda, (sighing). " Oh that heaven had
made me such a man," as Shakespeare says.
Arabella. And me two, Belinda.
Amelia. And me three, Arabella. Only see
him walk what a majestic gait he has how
enlarged he moves ! as Homer savs. What a
noblewoman nose he's got on his face ! (sigh-
incr.) Oh that he was civilized and understood
English better. I'm sure then (aside) that I
could make a conquest of him.
ArabellaHe truly a divine man, if ever
there was one. I wish he was a shade whiter.
Belinda.-Do vou? Well now I think his
- 7 . r ,;Al1 w. . , l i
complexion is beautiful. What can be hand-
. . .
enmr than a charminff bronze! 1 k nlnr
that will wear well and wash well.
Amelia. True, Belinda, it will
Arabella. How elegant those beads do look
in his ears ! I wonder if those long holes in the
rim were made by art, or whether he was born
with them ?
Belinda. I dare say he was born with them.
It would be barbarous to pierce the gristle of
the poor creature's ears in that manner. What
a beautiful red spot he has got painted on the
top of his head! I do think they show a great
deal of taste in their dress and ornaments. But
Major Garland ought to allow them cleaner
Amelia. I wish I'd brought along some of
brother Ned's. I'm sure they'd be an accepta
ble present. "
Arabella. I should like, of all things, to be
able to speak Indian. It must be delightful to
converse with so charming a man. How fresh
his ideas must be, just coming from the roman
tic forest. I'm sure such a pleasant, noble
looking young man could'nt feel in his heart
to kill poor defenceless women and children.
It must have been that cross looking old Pro
phet, and the savage Napope that did all the
Belinda. 1 think so too. It could'nt hav
been these pleasant looking young Indians.
There's the Prophet's son I understand he's
a great wit, and very gallant withal. 1 should
like to speak to them. Addressing Powe
shiek, the Prophet's son. Mr. Poweshiek,
how did you like the play last night?
Powe-shick. Me! Me no much understand.
Arabella. Have you seen Miss Kemble ?
Powe-shick. Miss Kemble! who she?
White squaw ?
Arabella. She's the
celebrated English ac-
Powe-shick. (Showing his teeth gallantly.)
White squaw very good much good. Me
like 'cm very much. Me take one, three, two
home, to be my squaws.
Belinda. Oh! how winy and gallant he is!
What a difference there is between him and the
white gentlemen. They'll hardly offer to take
one let alone two or three.
Amelia. (To Na-she-askuck, Hawk's son.)
Are you fond of botany ?
Na-she-askuck. Be ttle ! me fond of bottle ?
No ! Pale face fond of bottle me no touch
no get drunk no stagger like paleface
AraheJla. What divine sentiments! how
noble! how unsophisticated! Mr. Na-she-as-
kuck, woo is your iavorne autnor, 1'ope or i
By ion? 1
Na-she-askuck. No pope!
him? He in tother room.
Arabella. How elegantly
you want to see
great nnnu 10 put mm a
.i .. ...
conundrum. Why is
a woman s lace like
Na-she-askuck. Like! yes, me like squaws
face white squaw very much handsome.
Arabella. Oh! sir, you flatter me now.
Belinda. (Aside.) How I should like to
kiss the dear man. I'm sure there's no harm
in it. I would'nt kiss an odious white man
im public for all the world. But a child of
nature like this la ! I'm sure nobody can take
any exception to it. I'll kiss him, (suiting the
action to the word) if I die for it.
Na-she-askuck. (Surprised.) You buss
me ! White squaw buss Indian.
Belinda. Excuse me, Mr. Na-she-askuck
I know you'll think I'm rude and forward but
reallv, Mr. Na-she-askuck, you are so irresis
Amelia. A'nt you ashamed. Belinda!
Belinda. Ashamed ! no ! where's the harm
of saluting a noble son ofthe forest ?
Amelia. But before all the folks, Belinda
Belinda. Oh, fie ! Oh fudge ! You're
mighty squeamish all at once, Miss Simp
kins. Amelia. But only think what the people
will say. Why, it will get into the newspa
pers, and go all over the world.
Belinda. Well, let it go then. It won't
trouble me any.
Arabella. Nor me neither, Belinda ; I'll
keep you in countenance. (Saluting Young
Hawk in her turn.) There !
Na-she-askuck. You buss me too!
Powe-shick. You lucky
kuck, you get all the buss.
Na-she-askuck. White squaw
good very kind lip very sweet.
Powe-shick. I try'em then, (saluting Ame
lia.) Amelia. Oh ! how gallant.
Belinda. Fie ! fie ! Amelia.
Amelia. Don't you say any thing, Miss Belinda-
I did'nt kiss the Indian, but he kissed
me (Aside.) Oh ! what a difference between
him and the white beaus !
THE RIGHTEOUS EVER FORSAKEN.
l Hoot away despair !
Never yield to sorrow
The blackest sky may wear
A sunny face to-morrow."
It was Saturday night, and the widow of the
Pine Cottage sat by her blazing iaggots.with
her five children by her side, endeavoring by
listening to the artlessness of their juvenile
prattle to dissipate the heavy gloom that pres
sed upon her mind. For a year her own fee
ble hands had provided for her family, for she
had no supporter: she thought of no friend in
all the wide, unfriendly world, around. But
that mysterious Providence, the wisdom of
whose ways is above fiuman comprenensiun,
had visited her with wasting sickness, and ner
little means had become exhausted. It wa
now, too, mid winter, and the snow JX ftejs
and deep through all the surrounding lore siy
while storrns IZ
vens, and the driving inn ro ,
bounding pines, nd '" ufl'
The tartf.r5iof food she
fore her; it was the only article ot iood she
nneSprfl and no wonder her forlorn, deso-
possessed, nntuann?u u
. krrninrht nn in her lone hnsnm all tnp
i anxieties of a mother, when eho looked upon
her children; land nrt wonder, forlorn as she
was, if she suffered the heart swellings of des
pair to arise, even though she knew -that he,
whose promise is to the widow and the orphan,
cannot forget his word. Providence had many
years before taken from her her eldest son, .
who went from his forest home to try his for
tune on the high seas, since which she had
heard no note or tidings of him ;, and in latter
time had, by death, deprived her of the com
panion and staff of her earthly pilgrimage, in
the person of her husband. Yet to this hour
she had been up-borne, she had not only been
able to provide for her little flock, but had ne
ver lost an opportunity of ministering to the
wants of the miserable and destitute.
The indolent may well bear with poVerty
while the ability to gain sustenance remains.
The individual who hts but his own wants to
supply, may sufler with fortitude the winter of
want; his affections arc not wounded, his heart
not wrung. The most desolate in populous
cities may hope, for charity has not quite closed
her hand and heart, and shut her eyes on mise
ry. But the industrious mother of helpless
and depending children, far from the reach of
human charity, has none of these to console
her. And such an one was the widow of the
Pine Cottage : but as she bent over the fire and
took up the last scanty remnant of food to f
spread before her children, her spirits seemed to
brighten up, as by some sudden and mysterious
impulse, and Cowper's beautiful lines came un
called across her hand :
"Judge not the Lord by feeble sense
i But trust him for his grace,
Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face."
The smoked herring was scarcely laid upon
the table, when a gentle rap at the door, and
loud barking of a dog, attracted the attention
of the family. The children flew to open it,
and a weary traveller in tattered garments,
and apparently in indifferent health, entered
and begged a lodging and a mouthful of food ;
said he, "it is now twenty-four hours since I
tasted bread." The widow's heart "bled anew
as under a fresh complication of distresses ; for
her sympathies lingered not round her fireside.
She hesitated not even; rest and share of all
she had, she proffered to the stranger.
"We shall not be forsaken," said she, " or
suffer deeper for an act of charity."
The traveller drew near the bread but when
he saw the scanty tare, he raised his eyes to
wards Heaven with astonishment " and is
this all jour store? and a share of this do you
offer to one you know not? then never saw t
charity before ! but madam," said he, continu
ing, " do you not wrong your children by giv
ing a part of your last mouthful to a stranger?"
" Ah," said the poor widow, and the tear
drops gushed iri her eyTes as she said it, "I
have a boyr, a darling son, somewhere on the
face of this wide world, unless Heaven has ta
ken him a Way, and I only act towards you, as
1 would that others should act towards him.
God who sent manna from Heaven, can pro
vide for Israel, and how should I this night
offend him if my son should be a wanderer
destitute as you, and he should have provided
for him a home even as poor as this were I to
turn you unrelieved away."
The widow ended, and the stranger spring
ing from his seat, clasped her in his arms
"God indeed has provided for such a wander
ing son and has given him wealth to reward
the goodness of his benefactress my mother!
Oh my mother!"
It was her long lost son, returned to her bo
som from the Indies. He had chosen that dis
guise, that he might the more completely sur
prise his family ; and never was surprise more
perfect, or followed by a sweeter cup of joy.
That humble residence in the forest was ex-
for one comfortable, and indeed,
beautiful in the valley, and the widow, lived
long with her dutiful son, in the enjoyment of
worldly plenty, and in the delightful employ
ments of virtue, and at this day the passer by
is pointed to the luxuriant willow that spreads
its branches broad and green above her
grave, while he listens to the recital of this
A candidate for the honors of Congress
the state of Indiana, has addressed the follow
ing circular to his constituents. The Brooks
ville Inquirer gives it verbatim et literatim from
the MS., and alleges that it is authentic.
"I Imegrated from Virgenoe fifty-two years
agoe to kentuckey with a large Connection and
have Been aresedate in thes State for about
twentey seven yearse and fortey eight yearse
ago My father Dofended and assested in Dri
ving the Indians put of this District Where the
New Lords of the Sile object agiush Me Be
cause I was not College Bred for Whom fov
father Was afiting for the Country he then Le
ved at case and was nuste in the old penselva
n.v snd. was arubing his self against the Col-
' . f ' TT..nii la o colonn r T? nrl
iMlS USUI Mtl 1 u ovivvu v uoi&
VilJ and faine Would usurpe
the neopel aJows hem he
Cals him Selfe
he faine Would Judge other Mens Mat
ters But the peopel Well not alow him if we
all are to be Put Dow Be Cause we are not
College Bred, I wish to Leave Such a gove-
A Kentucky editor, when describing the ra
vages of the Cholera in that State, says: "A
messenger arrived on Sunday morning, from
Flemingsburg, and announced to us the thrilling
and appalling intelligence that our father was
no more, and that two dear sisters had been at
tacked with the epidemic. We hurried to the
fccene. A father and a sister had been borne to
their graves, and another sister was breathing,
her last. We watched by her wept over her
and she died V How many hare ucr
and done like this, and how many are y
suffer and do like it. In this
amily of thirteen 'diseage.
t-teel wprff carried oil F
j ftcefce were" carried