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VOL- 2.
WILMINGTON, FRIDAY, JULY 27, 1849.
NO. 50.
i!
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Con ncrcit!, at the jo
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Ten lire?, or le
If an alvefbem
be in proportion.
All j 1 vert ise man
insertion.
AH aderii
Ci n-n-.r-ial ire t'tit
U pcklvvfftfof chnrie.
will be inserted in the Weekly
!liwin2
2 rates :
I squ ire, 2 months, 8?,00
fcO.50
0 5 1 d. 3 do. 2,50
1,00 j I do. 6 do. 4.00
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make a square.
3tnt exceed ten liner, the price
W are piyable at the time of their
jmen's inserted in ihe Weekly
fc'eJ t j one insertion in th j I ri-
Vom. the Boston Rambler.
TIIE ORISONS.
Bhr O. S. SESTEB.
How sweetly
And cheerful
On ih jse whosd
T him who
Swut -.19 !ne ir
Kneh though
As sil ntly its orison,
A--cend to G,
With'suehfihe q
feaks l hi; early morn,
falls its l'mht
grateful hearts arise
keeps the night.
; the soul mounts up,
is full of love,
And lhl is dvery earo.
For heaven pre
Whose he:irt
Serves and blesses him
oes forth in prayer.
.And are there taose ?o hardened grown
'So insensible and dull,.
Whose breasts iie'er feel one grateful throb,
With no cmo
Have you no
To him, who ev
Italia! oh ! I
The hour h
To strike the
The heritage
I he very stop
Implore th
d above.
ay glides smoothly on,
ions swell 1
O ! tell me. thoughtless, careless ones,
debt to pay
9ty blessing gives,
Who keeps yiu night and day 1
How sweetly bleaks the early morn,
And .-cheerful
On tliose whosd
To God who
i
falls its lisht
grateful hearts arise
ieeps the night.
ITALY.
alia :
is come for thee
foemen at thy gates,
To struijle and be free.
lof centuries,
The br ve renown of old,
es that tell of fame,
e to be Doid.
Still siitin:
'Hi' Etorn,
Sii'l wears h
In the sunniv
S:i!i rise her
And fanes
Stii! frown h
Thou-'h G
op her Seven Hills,
city shines,
r proud tiara
land of vinc.
hoary temples.
i n lofty Plate,
c r battled bowers
Jul is at the gate.
Let not the Firenchmin revel
Within vori
As when De
Once brea
Strike ! men
" The cause
Drive back q
Or trad it
r st med halls,
Bourbon's cannon
ltd your ancient walls.
of Rome, for liberty ;
you owo is just
hce mor: the tri color
i
h the dust.
Alas! thai c'tir the tri-color
In hostile
And Tally on
The en em
That e'er (hi
In such a c
Or seek in fa
Ilerchildr
inds should come,
nhc Tiber's banks
s of Rome :
chivalry r.f France
puse should arm,
r Italia
n to uisarm.
lin-k! hack
And there,
s . ...
vo, icii vur
.You will ii
That he wou
Now lifted
Where Freei
That ranc;
Go, fright th
Where bra
Tell him a lp
' Right wbr
Tell him tharf
He yields;
St. Peter's a
Shall crunk
That liis v3
1 Paris, Frenchmen
eide the Seine,
bhamNapoleon
fit bind the chain
(d forge for Roman arms,
to be free,
Dm ra sed the war-cry first
rom sea to sea.
t tyrant's any
e 3Iazzini's name,
hder rules in Rome,
;iy of her fame ;
ere to foreign hands
ie honored trust,
hd the Vatican
ble into dust :
be the hand to fire,
W'hen eviry hope is vaind,
The mines tl at will to ruin blast
Each gallery and fane,
When every ivork of priceless art
Shall perUh in th flame,
Mazzini's shall the glory be
Napoleon s the shame.
ASTHMA vs. RHEUMATISM. 5
I must tell vdu a "ffooJ one" which hau
peneJ this sumjner on the same day that I
went up the -North River on board the
Hendnck Hddson.?' After the passen
gers naa retired to their berths, the follow
ing diulogue ieifsued'in the ladies' cabin,
of which the daor was left partly open to
promote the circulation of the air. A rheu
matic lady and n asthmatic old lady could
not each be satisfied with' reference to the
door. They kebt singing out in alternate
strains fr-irn. their nightcaps ; the rheuma
tice, "chambermaid, shut the door ! I shall
the ;" the -asthmatic, " chambermaid, open
that door 1 sbjall die !" So the conten
tion went on fotf some time, and the yellow
jnaid, with a bandana handkerchief on
her head, was fairly flustered. At last an
old gentleman, disturbed by the altercation,
and not wishing to show any partiality,
sang out from his own berth: "chamber
maid, for Heaven's sake open that door,
and kill one of those ladies, and then shut
it and kill t'other?" Knickerbocker.
Written for the Commercial.
A ROMANCE,
OF,
TWO EVENINGS IN MAY.
BY ECniRONIA.
. . - CHAPTER2!:-
Again he sees his pinnace fly.
Wafting him fleetly to hi home ;
Where'er that ill-starred home may be,
As calm and smooth it seemed to win
Its moonlight way before the wind, ;Vy
As if it bore all peace within, ' "f'
Not left one breaking heart behind." k
Fire Worshippers.
Situated on the banks of a 'crystal lake,
in the corner of a park in tbevrestern part of
France, belonging to the Count de Estival,
was a little bower, so near the water, that
in the early morning, when the delicate
vines, clinging like a cloud around it, were
shaken by the birds, green leaves, buds and
blossoms filled the air with rich fragrance.
One calm, sweet evening in May, when
nature was dressed in her gayest green,
when every thing wore that characteristic
wTild and dreamy aspect peculiar to spring,
the last ray of tLe setting sunf rested on
this lovely spot, as if it loved to linger there.
The soft zephys of spring played among
the flowers, like a laughing child, and gent
ly parted the curls that fell in careless
grace on the brow of a young maiden. She
sat on a low seat within the bower : het
large dark eyes seemed wearied by weep
ing, and resembled flowers after a summer
shower droopingand lustreless. Yet grief
had given them an expression of touching
sweetness they had never possessed in
thoughtless hours. One small hand," one
of whose fingers was gemmed by a cluster
of brilliants, like a flash of sunshine on a
snowdrift, rested on the arm of a youth by
her side, to whom her soft dark eyes were
pleadingly raised, and whose manly beau
ty was no less striking than her. own fragile
and delicate loveliness. There was a spirit-
ualitv about this fair creature's appearance
which, beautiful as she was, iormed her
chiefest attraction. Rather like a being
of another sphere, than an inhabitant o
this living, breathing world, she was more
like a beautiful dream than, reality. With
her dark, thoughtful eyes, sparkliug under
their iettv fringes : a transparently fair
complexion : a wilderness of dark and shi
ning hair Jessondade Estival was over
beautiful. Dudley de Mendori thought her
so, when she wandered with him through
the wild and romantic environs of Estiva
oastie ; wnen sne sat witn mm among
Jessondalian bowers, as he termed her little
grottorwhen her wild and silvery laugh
dimpled her rose-tinted cheeks but angel
ic now, as she sat trembling, -weeping, by
his side, mourning that he mjst so soon de
part that all their earthly joys were fled.
" lJleact no moie, my gentle Jessonaa.
Nay, reproach me not with those witch-
eyes, tseheve me, dearest, beneath
Jessonda was the only child of the Count
and Countess de Estival, and was, as may
be supposed, at once the pride and darling
of her affectionate parents. From child
hood she had associated, at will, with Dud
ley de Mendon, and the consequences were,
what might have been reasonably expect
ed from such close companionship of conge
nial spirits an engagement, to the fulfil
ment of which her father decidedly refus
ed his consent For the Baton de Cler
mont Dudley's uncle and guardian, was a
Bourboawt. iJDUMllejCwiieiiaaixiererboy.
had joined the ranks of Napolean, and was
with him in several battles. He was in a
fair way Yor preferment, when he was re
called, by the peremptory command of his
guardian But he could now be restrained
no longer. Again he sought the ranks of
Napolean, to whom he had been devotedly
attached. Jessonda was young ; scarcely
had she attained her sixteenth summer;
beautiful and childlike: yel beneath her
gentle exterior, there was a depth of ener
gy and resolution, few would have believ
ed possessed by one so young. Tenderly
attached to botlf her parents, it would have
cost her a bitter parig to disobey them. In
deed she would never have engaged her
self without her mother's consent ; but this
she had already obtained ; and she was re
solved to reject the splendid offer of a no
bleman, whom her father urged her to ac
cept, and remain faithful fto her first and
only love. k
The Count de Estival intended, as many
of the French noblemen have done, to re
move to America ; and this added to her
grief ; for not only would she be compelled
to leave the seenes amid which she had
enjoyed so much happiness ; hallowed by
so many sweet recollections but the dis
tance would be still great between her and
her almost idolized Dudley de Mendon.
It was her first grief. Her fond parents
had shielded her from every other ; and it
strengthened, .though it sorely tried her
gentle nature. But she too' well knew the
the rock of strength on whieh she leaned,
to doubt, for a moment, that all would be
well.
ing
those azure heavens that bend over us, I
fear nothing but those dark eyes. ; If any
thing, Jessonda, could ever win my spirit
from the course fate and Napolean have
marked out for me, it would be thee, my
own. 1 cannot remain behind, .when Na
polean says: "AH who love me, follow
me." If I had not loved him, you would
have taught me to do so. ' 1
"'But Dudle'" said the young girl, in
low mournful voice, "You cannot aid him
now. Napoleon's star has nearly set ; your
efforts, as well as those of other patriotic
spirits he is leading on to death, can avail
him nothing."
" We do not know it, Jessonda. Napo
leon's star may rise again in all its glory
But however that may be, I must follow
him now, though it be against your con
sent, my dearest. But it is in vain," he
continued, impetuously, "to combat the im
pulse which has swallowed up all other
ambition. My thoughts are witn ine sqaaa
rons of Napoleon. I must be with him
once moie." . , : f
These words, for a moment, crimsoned
with enthusiasm, the bale cheek of Jesson
da, as her soft, dark eyes flashed more brili
liantly under their drooping fringes.
" Go thn Dudley." she exclaimed, "
will no longer strive to detain voti : and
may yonr hopes be realized." ' '
But the effort was too much for her; her
enthusiasm was short-lived ; the thought
that the laurel leaves he sought might be
laid on his distant grave, returned with
fresh force, and she leaned her head on his
shoulder and burst into tears.
A few moments more and Dudley must
depart. Accompanying her to the steps ef
the Chateau, he hastened back, and Jes
sonda reached her apartment in time to see
him spring into his boat, which ( flew over
the bright wave of the little lake, like a ray
of sunlight, and he was gone, perhaps, for
ever. And Jessonda was alone in her un
utterable sorrow ; alone, so far as earthly
aid was concerned. But she Had a Fa
ther in Heaven, who is ever a safe refuge
for the sorrow-stricken. To Him she pray
ed, and from Him received comfort in this
her hour of need.
CHAPTER II.
Woman's love can live on long remembrance ;
-And oh how precious is the slightest thing
: .Affection gives and hallows. . .
I Four years have passed away and our
scene opens in our own Pennsylvania, on
the shores of the Susquehannah. There,
in a quiet glen, is the elegant but unpre
tending residence of De Estival. Again
it is the blossoming month of May; the
sun is setting over a scene of beauty rarely
equalled, even in our own favored land.
The modest edifice, embosomed in noble
forest trees and the porch is covered over
with jessamines, woodbine, and the rich
clusters of the Tennessee rose. At the
back of the house is an orchard, in full
bloom; thej mellow notes of the mocking
bird gushes: from the snowy blossoming ap
ple -tree ; its low, sweet music, a hymn of
nature, a pure fragrant offering to Heaven.
But the sweetest spot is a second bower,
tangled over with honey-suckles, roses
blooming as did those beneath the sunny
skies of France. All over the velvet turf
are wild flowers, scattered like gems amid
it, gleaming as brightly and far more beau
tiful. Afar off is the calm river, flowing
through4its green banks, sparkling with the
light of the setting sun. Almost choking
up the windows of the little parlor with its
luxuriant and fragrant clusters, is a blos
soming honey-suckle, loading the air with
its rich and fruity odor. A small white
hand pushed aside a branch bent down by
its heavy flowers, and by the action, frights
away a humming bird who is among the
flower vases in the window. He dashes
the leaves of a tea rose in a fair face, and j
finds a secure retreat in a richly blossoming
mimosa, just over the bower. Jessonda,
for it is she at the window, has in all their
trials been! the solace and delight of her
parents. Her sweet voice could chace
away the clouds of care from the brow, of
her father, and the fair placid, countenance
of her mother, both of whom would laugh
ingfy declare that melancholy could not
exist in the same place with the dark eyes
of their smiling Jessonda. They were
happy, and believed her so. When the
wild rose again blossomed faintly on her
fair cheek, little did they know her secret
sorrow. This the unselfish girl bore witn
silence. Sie struggled with her grief, and
though it made the cheek that had erst
been tinted! with a color bright as the crim
son lotos flower, pale as the fragrant blos
soms of the sweet briar, yet she succeeded,
and her parents blessed her: their hearts
silently arising in gratitude to the giver of
all good, lor the blessing of such a child.
On the evening I have mentioned, Jessonda
followed the humming bird with her eye,
and when she saw him rest in the mimosa,
she went into the bower and sat down on
the seat .Thoughts of other days were
around her;: memory was busy with by
gone hours, and many a summer scene
and moon lit walk in the lone bower, came
fresh as ever before her, she took a dark
and glossy curl from her bosom and gazed
upon it with feelings too deep for utterance.
The air, the scent of roses, all remind her
of the evening she parted from Dudley,
when he besought her to wed him then
and go with him ; and so she would, but
the thought of her parents passed through
her mind and forbade! her. She leaned her
head on her hand and old but fresh feelings
filled the breeze, that! like the loved fingers
of her almost worshiped Dudley, stirred
the curls so dark and Kong, that fell in glos
sy confusion over her soft glowing cheek
and snowy hand, almost reaching to the
ground in their rich redundance." By her
side, among the flowers, was her lute, and
the wind breathing through its chords seem
ed to whisper of him. Dudley, dearest
-DutKey, "she whispered, do ?ypu love me
stillj' A voice full ofjlthe heart's unuttera
ble tenderness replied!; " can vou doubt me,
Jessonda, my o.wn."
imagine the rest.
fair Jessonda, in her
falling around her '.
of .white roses gleam
She looked up. De
Mendon was by her side. The readermay
will only add, tnattne
robe of white muslin
ike a cloud, a chaplet
ing amidst her bright
hair, looked even more lovely when blessed
by both parents on the day of her bridal
than ever before.
Plymouth, N. C.
From the South Carolinian.
THE SISTERS;
OR, MONETAE REVENGE.
BY WILLIAM FLETCHER HOLMES, M. D.
it "if
lmmedialeiy antecedent to the ; eruption
of hostilities between1 the rival ! Republics
of North A menca, the northern ; portion o
Mexico, comprising the States of New Mex
ico ana upper oaiiiorma which were ce
ded by the treaty of 11848 to j the Govern
ment of the United States was notorious
ly infested by numerous and daring bands
of desperadoes, or guerillas, as they were
termed, who had rendered 'themselves ob
noxious to the existing government by the
frequency and audacjity of their I predatory
.i -1
incursions upon merapreeivuizeacommuni
ties a kind of black mail warfare, similar-
in its main features to that waged in the
olden time by the feudal chiefs of Scotland
against the agricultural inhabitants of the
Lowlands. j j
Foremost in the terror which he inspired
among the more peaceful citizens of the
South, and inthe boldness, violence, rapine
and bloodshed which attended his hostile
inroads, was Jose Hhriquez,; orj as he was
more widely know, jhe Bandit j of Jaque
sila. .Intrenching himself among the mac
cessible mountain fastnesses of the Cordil
leras, between the headwaters of the Jaque
sila and the Rio del Norte, Henriquez had
succeeded in organizing a numerous and
powerful banditti,-with whom, ever and a
non, he descended intp the plains, scatter
ing desolation and dtsmav along his track,
and gathering together such booty as the
people in their headlong flight had left be
hind them. The Executive of the Mexi
can Government had at various times des
natched detached bodies of troops to "dis-
r . - , a.
lodge them from thetrstronghold ; but Hen
riquez and his bold followers had as often
swept them from their, path like j devouring
flame in its mad career over the wide-spread
prairie. It was strange to see what an in
fluence that fierce savage robber wielded
over men equally fierce and savage. It
was the mysterioqs fascinating power
which an iron will, arid extraordinary phy
sical and mental strength exert over inferi
or beings. The followers of Henriquez
looked up to him with as much submissive
deference as the followers of Rob Roy or
Robin Hood may bei supposed to have , re
garded their respective chieftains.
But renowned as Henriquez was for his
savage ferocity and Ihjis deeds of reckless
daring, he was no less distinguished for the
heamv and accomplishments Of his two
daughters, Lola and Moneta. ! These youn
girls, breathing an atmosphere totally in
imical to the elegant! pursuits of polite .ife,
were nevertheless extremely intelligent and
refined, and had always beeri ( regarded
... ' . - --I . . i . i. .
with a kind ot superstitious interest Dy me
Lowlanders. ,' j
In earlv life, in order to repair his fallen
fortunes, the father of - Henriquez, one of
the haughtiest of the. rlidalgos ot Uld tas-
tile, had emigrated to "Mexico and married
a beautiful Indian girl, the daughter oT a
hrave Tlascalan chieftain, whose forefath
ers took so active a j?art in the endeavor to
repel the invasion of; the perfidious Cortez.
Boasting so distinguished an origin, Henri
quez had sworn that none but the proud
est of the land should: win his fair daught
ers as brides. And the voung I bloods of
the Aztec citythough they much desired
to do homage at the shrine of these moun
tain divinitiesyet so dreaded a - collision
with the fierce latherj that they never made
the attempt i ; I Ir! ,--.- -
Don Antonio Yincente, the sole surviving
scion of the noble house of the Abajos, had
just returned from a lengthy sojourn upon
the continent ot JMirope, wuere ue uau
been engaged in the completion of his
education.. Young, hrave, handsome, ana
possessed of immens wealth, his return to
his ancestral halls had excited great interest
amongthe dile of the city of Mexico. Numer
ousfetes, balls, and festivals were given in
honor of his arrival, j Gaiety and mirth and
nleasure reigned around himl He breath
ed an atmosphere perfumed; with the in
cense awarded to wealth and station.?
Surrounded by such; circumstances, flat
tered, caressed, adored, it is no wonder
that Yincente regarded himself fortunate
m exchanging the company of the phleg
matic frauJrins of Heidleberg for the grace
ful and voluptuous senoritas of his native
land. All around him the deeds of Hen
riquez and the famed beauty and accom
plishments of his daughters were spoken
of. Adventurous, chivalric, and ardent, he
declared his intention to visit the Bandit
in his mountain home, and lay siege to the
heart of one of his fair daughters. His
friends endeavored to dissaude him from
his mad project, but his determination was
fixed and not to be shaken. Accompanied
by two faithful servau'.s, armed cap-a-pie.
and looking the very impersonation of man-,
ly grace and beauty, he set off on a richly
caparisoned horse of his destination.
It was several weeks after their depart
ure when Vincente and his companions
rode suddenly upon the banks of a rapid
stream which the v took to be the Jaquesila,
and turning their horsed' heads to the
northeast, proceeded on their journey to
wards the rendezvous of the robbers,
which was situated near the headwaters
of, this river.
T On the third day after they had reached
the river, Yincente was riding leisurely
along, admiring the scenes which nature,
in her wildest and most beautiful luxuri
ance, unfolded to his wrapt gaze, when the
wild melody of a bugle startled him from
his reverie, and ere he had time to assume
a posture of defence, a half dozen horse
man dashed upon him like an eagle in its
downward swoop. Our hero and his fol
lowers were soon horse de combat, and being
secured were conducted to the headquar
ters of the Banditti.
"What is your errand in these moun
tains f" said Henriquez, in a stern and im
perious manner, as our hero was ushered
into his presence. ,
"I came," replied Vincente, in a tone
equally defiant, 'to seek Don Jose Henri
quez, and to do my devoirs at the shrine of
one of his fair daughters."
The brow of the bandit grew black as
night, and the fierce impress of unbridled
passions swept like a dark and lurid thun
der cloud over his features.
"Your name?"
"Don Antonio Vincente de Abajos."
The brow of Henriquez cleared up at
this announcement. "Unhand him, fel
lows, and. retire,'' said he, rising and cor
diallygrasping the hand of the young ho
bleman. ,
"Pardon me,senor, for my rudeness; had
I known" '
"Enough," replied Vincente, with knight
ly courtesy -your ignorance is sufficient
apology."
"Permit me to introduce my daughters,"
continued the bandit, as he ushered his
visiter into a small apartment, almost sump
tuously decorated.
Never had Vincente beheld two such
visions of loveliness. Lola, the youngest,
was seated in a recess arranging a boquet
of rare flowers sparkling with the dew of
morn. Moneta was reclining upon an
ottoman, deeply engaged in the perusal of
one of those thrilling romances, of which
the expulsion of the Moors from Granada
forms so prolific a theme. Lola Mushed
enmson, as snerepnea to tne salutation ot
our hero, and Moneta's eyes flashed with
a strange fire as they encountered the
dark orbs of the stranger.
Need I tell the sequel ? The sister loved
Vincente, and he loved Lola. There was j
but little congeniality in the natures of the
two sisters. Lola was the very impersona
tion of femimne grace and gentleness j
whilst Moneta although as rjeaumui as
the Pen of a Persian's paradise inherited
the fierce . masculine temper and defiant
disposition of her father.
When Vincente urged his suit, Lola,
transported with delight, confessed her love;
and Henriquez yielded a willing assent to
the nuptials.
But the couleur de rose did not last long.
Alas, that the hell-born passions of hate
jealousy, and revenge . should cover with a
sombre hue and lunerar pall the gay tints
and brilliant colois of life's glad, joyous
moral
It was the night of the marriage.
The robbers, with their wives and chil
dren, were assembled at the dwelling of
their chief.
"At geles," whispered Moneta, touching
a powerful man, with a moody, sinister
aspect, "follow me."
A strange flush mounted to the bronzea
cheek of the robber, and his heart beat al
most audibly, as silently and unobserved
he followed his companion. After pro
ceeding a few rods, Moneta stopped.
"Angeles," said she, and by a strong effort
- re 1 3
she overcome her xaisgusi, -you ovea me
once ; I scorned your suit -do you love m
still r - j -Vr
"As passionately as ever."
"Will your love j bear a severe test ?"
" I will do anything I will ' compass
.earth and" I
uHush,no such rhapsodies. Do my
bidding this once, and I am yours, body and
soul forever."
I swear it"
Moneta drew close and . whispered into
. . i i i i ..i.j . i
DlS ear. A aar& vwua, eeiuea upon me
viUainV face, and! an involuntary . shud
dering crept over his frame. 1
"Do you repent " saia sne sterniy.
''No, I'll do it if I'm damned
this shall be my guerdon," said he, as ho
bent down to kiss her hand Moneta drew
it away with an expiress3ion of loathing
which she could not conceal.
"Enough remember P and she glided
back into the house. k
It was past midnight. Angelcstnight for
seen securing two horses in ia remote part of
the forest. An hour afterwards, and the
tall form of Moneta, clad in a' long, dark
robe, and followed by the gaunt, muscular
figure of Angeles, glided into the nuptial
chamber, and crept noislcssly towards the
couch wherefore the loveri sir pt. The
fire of a demon gleamed from her eyes and
the fell passions which rankled within her
breast gloomed darkly over her counten
ance. The lover3 j slept irofoumlly. Lola'
arms encircled her husband's neck, and
her hand nestled irusdngly upon his bo
som; The browny arm of Angeles was raised
high above the sleepers, and the Wight
blade of a dagger glittered in the moon
beams; but it fell powerless by his side.
'Fool, coward." hissed Moneta between
her clenched teeth.
The next instant both firms were ruised
simultaneously, both daggers fell ; but this
time not harmlessly.
Vincente died wnhout a groan; the
citadel of life had been severed by the
strong blow of the robber ; but the expiring
wail of Lola rose upon the midnight air,
and ere it died away the reason of tho
murderess-sister had fled its throne forever'
Iom the .V. O. Delta.
CAMP STREET TAKEN IN.
A few weeks since a stranger made his
appearance in Lamp aireet. riis person
was prepossessing
Street. His
in lact, handsome, his
for it. But
dress was stylish, but not finical, and Beau
Brummel would have pronouncf-d his bijo
uterie just the thing for a gentleman. Tis
true, his address was better suited to Bond
street than Lombard street to Broadway
than Wall street; but he was a foreigner,
and allowances were made. Yet he was
an adept in business. The prices of Blocks
were at his finger ends ; the stocks of cot
ton, sugar and tobacco, at every mart of
note, were familliar subjects to htm ; and
though but recently arrived inj 'our citv,
his commercial cleverness was exhibited in
his knowledge of the affairs of the princi
pal houses in town. All Camp-street .was
taken with the stranger, who, in so short a
period, distinguished himself by an extra
ordinary financial and commercial knowl
edge and acumen. ,He was a true speci
men of the European "merchant prince."
with the education and polish of a gentle-
man, he combined business excellence.-
He had not yet "commenced operations ;"
he was merely looking about him, to see
what could be done. His leisure was em
ployed and his curiosity gratified by troops
of friends, who, while dining and supping
him, informed him of all that was notable
in the business world of New Orleans.
He had occasionally a small note to dis
count, to meet his current expenses ; and
here again he found troops of friends, who,
"for a small consideration," did the thing.
Weeks passed thud agreeably.
A few days since, a number of Camp st
denizens met at the corwrof common, and
their own thoroughfare. "Do you know
Cronotick?" asked one, addressing the
crowd. "Know him ? certainly and a
answered
you done
ii
devilish clever fellow, he is,
half a dozen at oncci "Have
anything for him ?" asked the same gentlc
man. "I've done a little a couplelof hun
dred," said one ; "Mine is a trifle over that,
answered the Second. "I have him for a
bout four hundred find thirty," said Roths
child No. 3, who, with i a" characteristic"
shrug of the shouldersYantT a bfltngf of his
thumb nail, continued, "and I came near
booking him for a cool fifteen hundred.":
" Well, its' hardly, worth while, mentioning
my hundred," put in a fourth, "pilot fish
can catch but little, while the sharks are
on the lookout." "Well, gentlemen,' said
the interrogator, who, by the by, is one of
those independent individuals whose "pije"
is generally seized by two dimes, "you had
better look out. for if I'm not much mis
taken, there is something rotten in Den
mark, if not in Camp street." The sequel
proved that the misgivings of the" indepen
dent two-dime capitalist were correct, for
before Recorder Baldwin yesterday morn
ing, Vincent DiomedeCranotick,"lhe mer
chant prince," was arraigned on three
separate charges of forgery and swindling.
One was preferred by 1 nomas Jr. white
exchange broker, who bought a note of
mm, drawn by John vauche, to ' the order '
of G. B. Kene, for 220, payable in thirty (
days from date, May 27, 1849.
The second was preferred by Miles Jud-
son, exchange broker, who bought a note
of him, drawn by N Dudouyt to the or-
det of Manuel Blasco, for 8430, payable
in thirty days from date, June 16, 1849,
and endorsed by Manuel Blasco, to Jose
Cabrera, j 1
The third was preferred by Louis Ber-
niaud, exchange broker, who bought a note
of him, drawn by David Gouans & Co. to
the order of N. Drefuys, for 8125, payable j
in thirty days from date, May 29, 1849.
The namss of the signers or every
one
f