Newspapers / Weekly Commercial (Wilmington, N.C.) / Oct. 17, 1851, edition 1 / Page 1
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. - -. . ; - . - i - - , . t - - - - - , - . - ' , , 11 lsi THOMAS LORING, Editor and Proprietar: BENJAMIN I. IIOWZE, Corresponding Zlditon- TWO DOLLARS Per Annum, invariably in Advance. VOL. 5. WILMINGTON, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 17, 1851. NO 7 T There is a common pedestrian of London streets, well known to all who arc acquain ted with their notabilities. He is short, stout, sturdy, and energetic. He has a big.'round face, and large, starinff, and very bright ha zel eyes. jHis hair is cut short ; and his hat flung" back on the crown of his" head. His gateTis firm and decided, with a little "touch of pomposity. He is ever provided with an umbrella, which he swings and flourishes, and bailers on the pavement with mhty thumps. He seems generally absorbed in exciting and impulsive thought, the traces of which he takes no pains to conceal'. His face works, his lips move and mutter, his eves gleam and flash. Squat as is the figure, and not particularly fine, in the features there is an unmistakable air of mental power and energy approaching to grandeur, about he man. He is evidently under the influence of the strong excitement of fiery thought. People gaze curiously at him. and stop to 6tare when he has passed. But he heeds no oneseems indeed lo have utterly forgotten that he is not alone in his privacy, and push es energetically on unwitting of the many who stare and smile, or of the few who step respectfully aside, and look with curiosity and regard upon Thomas Babington Macau -ly. Occasionally, however, the historian and the poet gives still freer vent to the men tal impulses which appear to be continually working within him. A friend of mine lately recognized him dining in the coffee-room of the Trafalgar Hotel a Greenwich a fash ionable white bait house, which it appears lie frequently patronizes. He was alone, as lie generally is, and the attention , of more than one ol the company was attracted by his peculiar muttering and fidgitiness. and by the mute gesture with which lie ever and anon illustrated his mental dreamings. AH at once it must have been towards the cli max of the prose or verse which he was wor king up in his mind. Mr. Macaulay seized a massive decanter held it a moment suspen ded in the air and then dashed it down upon the table wiih such hearty good-will, that the solid crystal flew about in fragments, whrle the numerous parties dining round in stinctively started up and stared at the curi ous innoclast. Not a whit put out, however, Mr. Macaulay. who was well known to the waiters, called louldly for his bill to be made out at the bar, and then pulling, with a cou ple ol jerks, his hat and his umbrella from the stand, clapped the one carelessly on his head, and strode out, flourishing the other. A REMARKABLE MEETING. At the residence of John Bacon. Esq., in Boston, there was a gathering a few days ao, of an unbroken band of ten sisters, whose united ages are 702 years, the eldest being 75 and the youngest 57. The Tran script says : There are two brothers living belonging to the same family, whose agvs swell the num ber to 832. Two other brothers, one at an early, the other at an advanced age. are the only ones "of the family deceased. They have thus met for the first, and undoubtedly the last time this side of the grave. They have assembled tor the purpose of recalling the past, and comparing early associations to strengthen the ties of affection. They are the family of the late Thomans Gross, of Wellfleet, Mass.. and were each born among the sand hills of Cape Cod, and are as may be easily imagined, hale and hearty to an, uncommon degree. They be long to the old Puritanical stock of Massa chusetts a pious and 'goodly-hand of Chris tian Sisters, each having joined the Method ist Church', in their earlier years, and srill continuing steadfast in the faith of their far thers. The mother of this truly remarkable family, the writer of these lines, scarcely out. oi his teens, distinctly remembers as :one of his earliest recollections, a small old lady, straight as a yard stick, though nearly nine ty years of age. She died in 1835. Where is the. parallel to "the above? ' TROUT FISHING P We have a friend who is a somewhat practical joker, residing in a pleasant coun try residence, near the ocean. Some time 6ince he had a visit from Professor . of poetic memory. The professor is a keen trout fisherman, and seeing a pond at some distance from R's residence, he required Can you fish for trout in that pond V 'Oh, yes,1 said R. -as well as not.' 'Possible 1 where's your rod V ll have none. I'm no fisherman. But if you want to try, we'll go over, to S , and get tackle, and? you may try your hand at it to-morrow.' It was thereupon agreed to do so, and the day was passed by the worthy professor in preparations for angling. The next morning early, R. drove him over to the pond, and he skipped it all around to windward and leeward, and final ly waded in up to his waist "and. thtew his flies most skilfully, but never raised a fin. At length as the" sun grew tolerably hot. he turned to R. who lay under a tree solacing himself with a book and a cigar, - and ex ; claimed, 'I don't believe there is a fish in this pond.' 1 'I don't kown that there is,' replied R. im perturably. , 'Why, you told me there was.' Oh, no,' said R. leisurely turning and lighting another cigar,' "you asked roe if you could fish for trout here, and I said you could f8 well as not. I've seen folks do it often hut I never knew of one being caught here." An unfortunate fellow went to a mise. and asked for a garment,: saying His objec JJJ to have something to remember him by "y friend,' said the miser, as the end is to remember roe, I shall give thee nothing; faf Am sure thou wilt remember a refusal touch longer than a gift.' , . MACAULAY. "STONING THE WRONG HOUSE." . We ther a good story, the other dav, which although it may lose in our tell ing, we cannot refrain from rnpafimr In the good town of Raleigh wax. and still . an excellent inn. vvh is was frequented by lawyers, judges, litigants, and jurors. upon (one occasion, Jude B i , as o-juuu a lawyer as ne was an inveterate iiumorisi. was holding court at Raleigh. Several very difficult case were to be tried one of: which, having been submitted in the evening, the jury were escorted to a room in an adjoining building connected with the inn, and familiarly known to the habitants as Collier." ( In the same building were also lodged a number of young disciples of Black stone, who; compensated themselves for their professional labors by a friendly game of the classic amusement of "Poker." Their crea ture comforts were attended toby a one-eyed negro, who rejoiced in the name of "Jake." It seems that this functionary had some trouble with the jury, which resulted in the introduction of his back to the cat. On the other hand, Jake was a special favorite with the youngjfawyers. who paid him liberally, and for whom he entertained a correspond ing regard. Under these circumstances it would not be a matter ot doubt as to which party was most carefully waited upon, by the sable mercenary of gin and juleps.! Judge B . in the meantime, was lodg ed in the main building of ihe hotel. With him, also, Jake was a favorite, and after he had concluded the examination of some pa pers, he addressed the attendant with inqui ries as to what the ''young gentlemen" were doing. "Nottinjmassa, nottin ; only a little game of poker dat all." ;Eh, that's all ?" tkYes, sah, dat all." "The young scamps ; they ought to be at their books; a nice way to prepare their ca ses ! To-morrow some of them will bs ask ing me to put off trials, because' they have no time to get ready ;' grumbled the judge. "I say, Jake, can you get me a pile of bricks? "Sartin,' Judge I's get a pile of bricks1 old oven brick get bats," "Very yell, go bring a pile into the yard." "Yes,-sah " said the obsequious darkie, and in a short time he returned, with the assur ance that the bricks were ready, j The judge accompanied him to the yard. ' Now, Juke, tell me which room these fel lows are in." ktDat de room, massa. dat room ;" but the cunning negro, instead of indicating that occupied by the lawyers, pointed to the one in which the unoffending jurors were in de liberation! "Oh, ho1 ; now, Jake, do as I do, and suit ing the action to the word, his honor com-' inenced pburihg a perfect storm of brickbats against the room of thesupposed delinquents. L$ang! bang I they went. Jake's missiles per forming no secondary part in the concerr. un til the pile was exhausted ; and the startled jurymen began to imagine themselves as sailed by it mob of the whole town. Still they could not escape, but huddled together, and bore the assault. On his side, the Judge, totally unconscious that he had been stoning his jurymen, was chucklingpver the dismay he imagined he had brought upon the lawyers. They dui not. however, as he expected, vacate the premises, and he prepared for a second bombardment. In the meantime Jake, convulsed with laughter, had goue to the room of the ' law yers. , "Yah ! yah ! yah !" screamed the negro, rolling in laughter, "d'ye hear ern ? did you hear the bricks ? Wait a leetle ; hear more by m-by," and he proceeded as clearly as his cachinnatory paroxysms would allow him. to explain the mistake into which he had led his honor. j He had scarcely withdrawn when Judge B summoned him to collect another pile of bricks, which was forthcoming as readily as the first. The same tornado visited the astonished jury but the same result followed, for the very good reason that they could not get out if they would. The judge, supposing them the gamesters, was proportionally irri4 tated that he cou!d4not break up their party. "Jake ?" ! Yes, sah 1" "Bring another pile of bricks !" and once more thesis formidable projectiles were laid before him. "Now, Jake, at the windows." " Smash ! crash ! whiz! bang ! they went, and glass,1 sashes, and everything else . gave way, as brick after brick penetrated the Jury room. The fortress was no longer tenable the laws of arms justified a capitulation, and a general flight took place. i Unfortunately the Judge, in his zeal arid wrath, never thought of making his retreat, and as the jurors were escaping, imagine their horror at discovering that thi learned judge himself was their assailant, and had neen beseiging them during the night after this extra-judicial fashion. Too late the Judge found out his mistake) and f petrified th astonishment he stood dejected, with his hand raised, in the act of hurling a brick through the windows of the jury room. Great was the confusion ! That Jud (TP B-rshouId do such a thing that a high unctionary ; should so far compromise the jfecorum f character the dignity of his of fice? It could not have been credited, had it not been seen but, unfortunately he judire wai dedected in flagrante delicto' The only way Left was to make a full ex planationand this the judge did, with many i muttered malediction ou Jake, who had ;;doneu-Uim so completely, and made him the means of closing accounts with theury-The lawyers munificently rewarded Jake, upon ! . ' . .j. .1.5.1 ' whom the judge could no't very well take, ven geance, without admitting his confederacy with him. And the jurors, ever afterwards, were careful of drawing the wrath of that dusky dignitary of Collier. The judge acknowledged he was. beaten, and would interfere no more with his young lawyers, at their games of poker. A person who had got some little smatter ing of zoological lore, said one day to a no vice that crocodiles were often seen in tears. OhI that's nothing," rejoined 'the novice. 'I've often myself seen whales blubber Excellence is never granted to man but as the reward of labor. It argues indeed no small strength of mind to persevere in habits of industry without the pleasure of perceiv ing those advances, which, like the hand of a clock, whilst they make hourly approach es to their point, yet proceed so slowly as to escape observation. Punch says, an astronomer being asked what the use of an eclipse was, replied 'Oh. I don't know; it gives the sun time for reflection." Some years ago ' when tlhe egislature of one of the Middle States were framing- a new Constitution, the discussion of its vari ous provisions was warm and obstinate. Many days had been spent in fiery debate, and the vote was at length about to be taken. Just at this momenta country member, who had been absent for some days previously, entered and took his seat. Another mem ber who was in favor of the amended Consti tution went to him and endeavored to make a convert of him. j 'You must vote for the Constitution by all means,' said he. 'I'll think of it.5 said ihe country member. 'But you must make up your mind at once, mad, for th vote is about to be taken.' The country member scratched hi3 head and seemed puzzled. ' "Come, why do you hesitate? Will you promise me to vote for the Constitution ? I am sure it will give you satisfaction." "I'll vote for it on one condition," j said the country member. ' ! "What is that?" I "And on no other by gracious! "But what condition is ti! " j "Why, that they let it run by my FARM. J) From the Boston Museum. A VICTIMISED LODGER: A MISTAKE OF A NIGHT-TIME. BY PAUL CREYTON. Mr. Benjamin F. Derby returned to town, and to his Ipdgigns at Mrs. Covey's rather sooner than he was expected. It was late in the evening and having entered by means of his night-key, and finding nobody stirring, he walked leisurely up to his room, i This was the apartment of Mr. Derby had always occupied in Mrs. Covey's house; but on this occasion it seemed to him very ltitle like home. Before leaving town he had care fully put away all his clothes in his trunks, and during his absence, other revolutions had been made in the room which gave it a different air. Not the least disagreeable thing in ihe room, was the darkness. Mr. Derby had en tered without a lamp, expecting to find that desirable article in the old place; but after knocking an ink bottle, a vase and a snuff box, in h s blind search, he concluded that the wisest course would be to go to bed in the dark. In no very good humor, Mr. Benjamin F. Derby began to undress. ,To return home afier an absence of two or three weeks, and to be obliged to go to bed in such a dismal manner almost broke his heart. He might have rung for the servants," it is true, arid he mighchave reflected that his friends were excusable, since they did not expect him; but Mr. Benjamin F. Derby chose to be an gry and silent, j 'And where is Margaret Maria ?' muttered the unhapy man. 'Oh, faithless daughter of an unfeeling landlady ! I didnH expect this from you? When I tore myself from your arms two weeks ago, you protested, wlvhtftears in your eyes and perfidy in your hear that you would watch with the anx ious eyes of love, for my return I Oh, this looks like it ! Even now. I know you are making yourself meny with some fresh con quest, or it you are sleeping under this roof, you are dreaming of pleasures in which I have no share ' I So saying. Mr. Benjamin F. Derby threw his trowsers on a chair, and began to grope hjs way in the darkness to the : head of the bed. At this moment, a mery laqgh close to his chamber door, started him. Mr. Derby paused Margaret Maria's laqgh, by all that is false!" groaned Mr. Derby. ''She said he should do nothing but sigh and weep during ray absence and hear her ! ah. she laughs again The false-hearted ' ! Mr. D's reflections were suddenly interr rupted by the sound of a hand grasping his door latch. With considerable trepidation, he fjewno lock the door, but before he could reach hVa merry laugh, a blaze of light, and iwo girls burst iutQ a room. j T . Novy Mr. D. was a very modest person, and it was a lucky circumstance for him that the closet door was a jar, the retreat conven ient, and his limbs active. He dodged out of sight before the girls had time to cast their eyes about them; and sgon the door was shut, and Mr. Ds pars pinned back. iVyhat time dq yon suppose it is!' asked Margaret IVJaria. : 'There I the bells are stri king twelve ! Oh aint ! we had a . gay time, Susan A Gay enough V was .Susan's reply. Ha ! ha I but wouldn't your poor, dear ab sent Derby be aroused it he knew' 4 lHa ! ha! ha P laughed Margaret Maria 'My poor, dear, absent Derby I I hat is too good! If he - knew! poor fellow, it would break his heart. He thinks I do nothing but sigh nnd cry during his absence. Am I such a goose' 'Such a goose ! Oh ! groaned Derby, painfully interseted. 'Oh ! bh V 'Such a goose V echoed Susan. 'He wouldn't think so if he had seen you eating the oysters with Dan Robbing.7 'I only hope, added Margaret Maria, 'that he will ijeep away a week longer. 'So that we can have this room V 'No not exactly that bat Dan has invi ted "me to go to a ball on Thursday night and you know I couldn't go if my 'poor dear, absent Derby5 should come back in the meantime.' Dorby was trembling with cold and wrath. 'You mean to marry Derby, then V asked Susan. 'I suppose I shall '' cried Margaret Maria. gaily. 1 like lo mrt with Dan, and it he had as many dollars as my 'poor, dear, absent Derby' " j 'You would choose Dan ?' 'To be sure I would. He aint 6uch a fool as 1 : 'Derby. Ha! ha! But what is this ? A coat a pair of pantaloons. 'Goodness gracious ! How did they come there! Derby was trembling with excitement burning with rage, but now he felt a new source of uneasiness. The discovery , of his pantaloons might leal to the discoxery of himself. Had he been dressed, he would have liked nothing better than to confront the per fidious Margaret Maria but for the present, it was not to be thought of. He felt him self blushing all over, in spite of the cold. To his relief, however, the girls, after ma king themselves sure that there was no body in or under the bed, did not seem disposed to inquire into the mystery of the pantaloons but Margaret Maria exclaimed I'll tell you what I will do. Sue. I'll dress myself in these clothes, and go into the widow Slade's room. She'll think it's a man, and won't she be frightened ?' 'Frightened ? No ? cried Susan. She's had two husbands. But do it. See what she will say.' I will. There, help me, Sue. Ha! ha! And here's a hat, too. How kind in some body to leave all his clothes here. Derby poor, dear, present Derby was breathing very hard ; his heart beat heavily, and every nerve shook. What the duce was he to do, if Margaret Maria went off with his pants, he could in no manner determine; and from the exceedingly interesting conver sation which was going on, he knew that his worst fears were to be realized. 'Oh, aint it a fit, cried Margaret Maria. Only turn up the trowsers five or six inches. and I shall be fixed. Here, black ray up per lip with this bit of coal. I shan't make love to you. Ha!! ha! Aint I a dashing fel low ? And Darby could hear somebody kissing somebody, and somebody was laughing as if she could not help it. A moment alter, the girls had left the room. Derby stole timidly from his hiding place. Margaret Maria had taken the l imp and his clothes with her; she had left darkness and her own clothes behind. A happy thought struck the unhappy Derby. In all haste he enrobed himself in Margaret Maria's gown, then he threw her shawl over his shoulders, and put on her bonnet and veil. His eyes having become accustomed to the darkness, he could see to do this without much difficul ty. In five minutes, he was ready to follow Susan and Margaret Maria. During this time, there was a great deal of laughing up stairs. Margaret Maria, in Derby's attire, went to Mrs. Slade's room, who was a little startled at first, but who took things very coolly until she found that it was not a man. alter all, when she virtue ously gave vent to her indignaiion. The ad ventures next proceeded to the attic, where the girls were sound asleep. Susan having placed the lamp in .he passage, hid behind the door, whilst Margaret Maria entered, and awoke Jane Woods with a violent shower of kisses. Jane uttered a faint scream, and de manded in a whisper j 'Who are you V 'Sh !' said Margaret Maria. Jane 'hushed' accordingly, until she saw the strange figure prqeeet to Mary Clark's pillow, when she thought it her duty to scream. Mary screamed, too, afier she had been several times kissed ; and Sarah Jones joined in the chorus, until her mouth was stonoed by a hasty buss. - 'Is it you?' she whispered. At that moment, the strange figure, which had been seen by the light in the passage, ran out, and Susan catching up tha lamp, ran in. r r . . . 'Why. what 13 the matter?' she cried, in pretended astonishment. J 'There has been a man in the room.' Susan was very much astonished, ol course; and the girls were all very indignant ; and not one of them would confess that she had been kissed, until Susan pointed out the marks of the coal moustache on their laces, and call ed in Margaret Maria. Then there was a great deal of laughing ; and Margaret Ma ria, having gallantly kissed them all again, set out to go downstairs. - But now it was Derby's turn to have a lit tie fun, and Margaret Maria's to be astonish ed. As Susan advanced, the lamp she car ried revealed a frightful looking object stand ing at the foot of the stairs. It was appa rently woman of gigantic structure ; her dress was so ehort lhat her bare feet and an cles could be seen distinctly j:an4 she waved her large, bony hand at the terrified girls, ma jestically as a ghost. : Never were two mis. chief makers more frightened by an appari tion. Supan dashed herself against the wall Up went a scream and down went the lamp The oil covered the stairs, and Margaret Ma ria fainted and stepped in it. At that mo ment the tall woman being Derby himself cried j 'Robber, help, murder, at the top of his voice ; and immediately stepped into Jits room lockingHhe door behind him. Before Margaret Maria recovered her scattered senses, nil the boarders were astir. Susan ran into Mrs. Slade's room : Margaret would have followed her. hut Susan, in her terror, shut her out. Next, Margaret tried her mothers door; and her mother, h'ettring the alarm, appeared at that moment, and ter ri6ed by the coal moustache and smashed hat, took her own daughter for the robber, dropped her lamp and screamed fearfully. Margaret, as much frighted as herself, would have caught her in her arms, but Mrs. Covey. who would hear no explanation nor allow ner to approach, pushed her out ot the room with great trepidation. Then Margaret Ma ria ran to Derby's room which, to her con sternation, she found locked. At that mo ment, Ned Perkins the boldest fellow in the house rushed, out of his room in. his shirt, with a lamp in one hand and asvord cans in the other, ready drawn for combat. Ned flew at the supposed robber and would have seized her in an instant. If she had not prop erly seen ht to taint at the., sight of his naked sword, and fallen down before Mr. Derby's room. Her hat came off, her hair streamed down her neck, and Ned recognized Marga ret Maria. Anybody can imagine the scene of confu sion which followed. The imprudent girl found herself surrounded .by a dozen half- dressed figures, some laughing, some wonder ing, some trembling with terror. But it was the severest cut for Margaret Maria, when the door of Derby's room opened, and the tall apparition appeared. As soon as tjie screa ming subsided, the hgure removed its veil. Don't be frightened Margaret Maria, it said It's nobody but your "poor, dear, absent tlerby." That's all. Can you fancy her feelings? Mr. Derby could, as he entered his room again, locked the door, and went to bed, overjoyed by what had occurred. He slept soundly, and awoke the next morning as completely cured of his love for Margaret Maria as if he had seen her transformed into a grizzly bear. CONFESSION OF ROBINSON. The San Francisco Herald contains the confession of Robinson, one of the men hung by the Vigilance Committee, which is an ac count of a series of successful villainies, with out a parallel, in Baltimore, New York, Pfiiladelph.a and other cities. The follow ing embracing his operations iu Philadel phia, Baltimore, &c, is interesting; November. 1837, I was in Albany. 1 then became acquainted with Monroe Edwards, at the Exchange Holelj-he inquired for Mr. Hunt; he aid he was very, anxious to nnd him; I told him he was at the Howard House, N. Y.; I went with him and found him there; they consulted together for some time, and then concluded to make me their partner, as I was very good scribe; I was dressed rather rough; they, expended about $300 in jewels and clothes, to make me look genteel, and not suspicious; then we went to business. . vl We forged a check on Hodges, Beale & Co.; I presented the check; they told me the firm had not as much money ion deposit as the check called for; I returned lo my parU ners and told them what had happened; Mr. H- took $300 and made a deposit in the name of H., B. & Co.; by this means ascertained the amount; he drew another .check to the amount of $20,000: I presenten it; they paid it without any hesitation; I got three $1,000 bills and the balance in $500 bills; I took it to our room, and my partners gave me $2,- 500 of it; April 4th. I met them in Philadel phia, at Jones' Hotel, in Uhesnut street, above Sixth street; after being there two days, they asked me to write Kidgway s namej I practised three or; lour tunes a day, for four days; by this time I could counter feit. very well.. r There then was laid before me twenty blank checks; I wr6te on them all. and out of the number got one with a perfect signa ture ot Mr. Kidgway; 1 hi leu ihe cneck by writing Brown & Co.. at the end rf Ridg wav, which made the firmTiidgwaA Brown & Co ; Hunt took the check very coolly and put it into his pocket and walked out; pre sented it to a certain bank and drew $20,000, all iri $100 and $50 notes; he came back with his wallei full; it was divided; I got$6?r 000; I sent $4,000 to my mother, and wrote to her that I drew it in a lottery. Mr. EJd wards said we must put the Balti more bank through next; -on the !6ihofMay. we met in Baltimore; Mr., Edwards and me drew a check for fifteen h thousand, dollars, signed Crafts. Oojes & Co., he gave it to me and told me to get the money for it ; I refu sed to do it; says he what are you afraid of I am afraid of nothing, but I will not take the check there; by that says Edwardsr I will go in the bank and get some gold for some paper money; I then agreed to go and take the check, he told roe to let him go and get some gold, and when they are paying , roe the gold, you present the check; I did 60; the cashier merely looked at the check, and told the teller to pay me; he gave two : thousand dollars in one hundred dollar notes, the reit in five hundred dollar notes. Edwards staid there some time afterwards, jn order to de tect any suspicion; we separated, met-io Wheeling, Cumberland and Cincinnati we were in Cincinnati in January, 1841; remain ed there about four day E4wajr dLand ray sell forced a check on the Gaf Light Coni- pany Bank, belonging to Hodges C. signed Hodges, as , President and , Ed wardi signed Willis' name across the back of jthe check, which had lobe done before the check was good; Hunt signed' the Cashiers name. Hnnt took the check and drew the money the amount was twenty, thousand dollars Edwards said he despised a cheek , that was drawn for less than twenty thousand dollars; he either wanted to make a big raise or none at all. , . . - ,';.) We then went to Louisville together ; Hunt and Edwards forwarded a check on Hiram Goodrich for twenty thousand dollars; Edwards presented it at an Exchange effice at a heavy discount for the money, the bank er said he did not have that much money in the office, (this was after banking hours, was the reason he offered it at a discount.) but would take him to the cashier of the bank it was drawn on; went to the cashier: I pre sented it; he told mc he would go to the Piesi dent ; we saw hiraj I presented I it, and he ordered it paid ; they would not give me any of that money ; we quarrelled and separated; they went to New Orleans, and I in another direction. They forged checks on the .New Orleans and Mobile banks; they returned to N. York, and forged a note there, which cauaed his conviction ; I was not interested in the three last crimes ; not having time I am compelled to close my confession in re ference to Edwards and Hunt. On the scaffold, this fellow made another confession, implicating some of the most res pectable men in California in his villainies. His last confession we believe to be occa sioned dy spite, because these persons did not mterlere to save him. in nia lasi con fession he said his name was Wra. Benjamin Heppard. , I correspondence of the COMMERCIAL. New York, Oct. 8. This is a lovely autumnal morning Last night .... n.A.nlllttit was a niairumceni spucnueu m mo uiwun6u kind, and it would seem as if some of its placid peacefullness ought to have been infused into ev ery "human" who was at liberty to enjoy it ; bit t did not nreve-.t a desperado nameai'ioin irom an attempt to murder and rob Mr. Augustus, at hi rti.r-houso in Water Street. Tom had con- cealed himself under Mr. A's bed, and when dis covered bv the occupant, used a pistol ; and knifo with almost deadly effect. Augustus Is in. the' City Hospital, with two of his ribs broken, and a deep stab near the jugular vein, and another at tho back of his head. The assassin is still at large. The frequent hangings do not appear to lessen thP. number of murders. There are five men now in tlie Tombs under sentence of strangulation, and Tom will make the sixth. The seducer of Mary Bishop, the poor girl who committed suicide day before yesterday in Water Street, ought to make the seventh. The Fire Department had a meeting last night to arrange for a benefit which tho, great juggler Anderson has tendered to their Fund.- The Com mittee on the "Jenny Lind. Testimonial", took oc casion to report that Miss Lind deprecated any other than a mere verbal acknowledgment. Her chief fear seemed to bo that her motives were over-rated, for she said "the money was not her . own, but belonged to the public, and she thought herself the instrument of the public, and in this instance entitled to no credit." 1 There are those who ascribe her modesty aivl, liberality to artifice, but this detraction arises from envy and is a common trick with pci-on devoid of natural benevolence and true generosity. If a man makes a large donation to a society, and the recipients, actuated by common gratitude, and a desire, perhaps, to induce others to, "go and do likewise," publish the fact, the donjr is char ged by some as "advertising his liberality !" Politics receive the cold shoulder for the pre sent in this city. The embarrassed condition of commercial and monetary matters is the all; ab sorbing topic. True a few zealous patriots are round obtaining the signatures of our people f to, the Anlj Agitation resolutions of the Castle Gar den Fnion wen, and .the great journal which claims to baye secured the election of General Taylor, is warmly, strenuously and lengthily.ad vocatiug the nomination of Daniel Webster to tbe Presidency. In that case, Mr. Wwbster would no get tbe vote of this State, as all the opponents of the Fugitive Slave Law ragard him as the Friend of the South, in (what their present idol j Martn Van Buren once was) a "Northern , msn j with Southern principles." Judging from, tlie lawless demonstratians at Buffalo and Syracuse, there are very few in that quarter friendly, to ,thet. Defender of the Constitution. y Castle Garden is all alive this week with .thou sands of visiters to tho Fair of the American In- stitute. The Academy ol resign w inp- lmndreds. because the result of Ildaley's; five years labor on the picture of Webster, replying to there. The naintin2 "is Hayno: is onexhibion. there.The painting is grand, but has an unfinished appearance. : A friend who has Inst come in,' says he r heard Catharine Hayes last evening, and thinks her over rated:" ' ' ' '."". ! ; . ,1 ;. t. . . . 1 :'V TRIP AROUND THE WORLDS tu R. S. Wadr, Xsq. has just returned frs Europe to Boston. In December last he left Boston for California, thence -proceeded to ' Ctina if the barque. George EJ Webster, and thence toXngland via the overland route from India,1 thus havjp taken a turn around the globe in less than, rdritj months,'stopping wo .raoaths of the tim io San Tiinci'ico.-CnioutK in Cuinar and at -leait Sjorjt night in England. & : ' V ' i ? i (.: 4 r A 1 1' V H t t I tt 1-; 1;! 1 1 I
Weekly Commercial (Wilmington, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Oct. 17, 1851, edition 1
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