him there till he is wanted!" "The devil you are," said I—and in a moment more the dog's carcase was turning somersets between the window and the street. The dog disposed of, I proceeded in like manner to eject the toads, the whole six of my blessings remon strating in tones from that of an infant to a sturdy boy of nine. "My cows, Pa, we're playing keep cows, and them toads are make bieve cows?" But through the window they went instanter, and Sudden there rose as wild a yell, And all the fiends from heaven that fell, I dare not write it, but the noise of Pandemo nium could not have been worse than that raised by my six "pledges," upon the ejectment of their make believe cows from my premises. "Ma" was appealed to, and in she came. "Why. Mr. I'm sure you need not make such a fuss because the children play a little." “Good ——,” cried I, “Do you imagine I will permit my carpet to be made a cow pasture of?" She went off rather sullenly, and I more so, for after hunting up a basket, I had employment until after dinner time, in carrying off the stone wall. O wretched man that I am. While writing this my neighbor is complaining,—“ Mr. your boy, John, has broken one of my windows!" Before he gets the door closed one of the members of my juvenile choir has struck up a dismal tune in the back yard, wife flies to the rescue with another in her arms -and a rustling, bumping noise calls me to the foot of the staire, to pick up another who descended them every way but on his feet; a fourth is beating the "Devil's tattoo" on the tin kitchen, with the shovel and tongs-a fifth is stowing the pigeon house—a sixth has stolen to-day's paper to cut up for a kite-and the seventh-thank God, there is not a seventh, if there were, I would bowstring the lot. Mr. Editor, the conclusion of the whole matter is this, if you do not take some of my live stock off my hands, I will bind them to the parish, sell them to the gypsies, transport them to Botany Bay-or what is worse than either, put them in a Boarding School. of splitting rails from the spruce, not apprehensive of the Indians so early in the season. While engaged in this work, and having opened a log with small wedges about half its length, he was surprised by Indians, who crept up and secured his musket standing by his side. "Sungurnumby," said the chief, "now me got you; long me want you; you long time speak Indian; long time worry him; me have got you now; look up stream to Canada." "Well," said Malcome, with true sang froid, "you have me, but just help me to open this log before I go." They all, five in number agreed. Malcome prepared a large wooden wedge, carefully drove it, took his small wedges out, and told the Indians to put in their fingers to the partially cleft wood, they did; be then suddenly struck out his blunt wedge, and the elastic wood instantly closed fast on their fingers, and he secured them. ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER. -A fashionable lady of the west end, some time ago, engaged a foot-boy, and gave specal instructions, that two days in the week all inquiries respecting her should be replied to by," not at home." The boy turned out a thief and a tipler; so that she imme liately announced to him, he must quit his situation. On this he applied for a character, which she refused on the ground of the impossibility of saying anything in his favor. "Weel, my lady," quoth the urching, that's too bad, many a lie I've told to please you, you might surely tell one to please me." A SWAP.-Mr. Snooks was asked the other day how he could account for Nature's forming him so ugly. "Nature was not to blame," said he, "for when I was two months old I was considered the handsomest child in the neighborhood-but my nurse, the slut, one day swapped me away for another boy, just to please a friend of hers whose child was rather plain looking." THE MAGNOLIA, IS PUBLISHED EVERY OTHER SATURDAY, BY P. DEAN CARRIQUE. Hudson, N. Y., at One Dollar per annum, în advance.' Persons acting as Agents, on forwarding Five Dollars shall receive six copies, and in the same proportion for all they may obtain. CATCHING THE TARTARS.-Among the first settlers of Brunswick, Maine, was Daniel Malcome, a man of undaunted courage, and an inveterate enemy to the Indians, who have given him the name of Sungurnumby, i. e. very strong man. Early in the spring he All letters and communications must come poss ventured alone in the forest, for the purpose age paid toĵreceive attention. VOL. I. OR, LITERARY TABLET. Published Semi-Monthly, at One Dollar Per Annum, in Advance. HUDSON, JULY 26, 1834. From the Richmond Enquirer. No hireling bard, who sycophantic sings Tho' in the lap of wealth and splendor born, By heaven design'd in nobler scenes to share, La Fayette and Washington, from distant lands, No. 22. With souls unshaken 'mid the scene of blood, Earth holds no recompense for deeds like thine ;- And now, thy cherish'd orphans, where are they? Here in the world-at home-be where they mayChildren of Freedom! denizens of Earth, We recognize no spot that gave them birth — And thus Columbia plays a mother's part, Aud strains thine orphans to her grateful heart. Play such high fantastic tricks before high heaven, At La Bruca, a romantic village situated between the cities of Syracuse and Catania, stands the baronial residence of the duke of La Bruca, a magnificent old edifice, which about 50 years since was the scene of the tragic event I am about to relate. The duke, its proprietor at the time, had an only daughter, about 18 years of age, possessed of unusual beauty and accomplishments, these, and the large property to which she was heiress, made her hand engerly sought after by almost all the young men of family whose birth and fortune could entitle them to the honour of so high an alliance. from among these her father would gladly have permitted her to select a suitable companion. But her affections were unalienably engaged by the second son of Count Rizzari, of Catania, an intimate friend of the duke. The favoured lover was about the same age as the young lady, and had ever since her reco!lection, been the companion of her childhood. A cadet, with but little fortune, was a match to which, if there had been no obstacle, the pride. of the duke would never have consented; there was moreover, the further impediment, that the young man was intended for the church, and consequently destined to celibacy. The cause of the lady's aversion to her other suitors was soon evident to both families, who were equally anxious to put a period to inclinations likely, if unchecked, to terminate in the misery of both parties. The count resolved to remove his son from a spot where, enchanted by early associations, and excited by the continual presence of the beloved object, there seemed but little probability of his overcoming his misplaced passion. Young Rizzari was accordingly sent to Rome, in order at once to finish his studies, and obtain the advantage of an introduction to individuals of rank and influence in the church. An ecclesiastical life was not Rizzari natural voeation, and he resolved internally not to embrace it, trusting to chance and time for the birth of some event favourable to his hopes and passion. Indeed, it is soon proved so, beyond what his most sanguine expectations had led him to anticipate. His eldest brother, who had married subsequently to his departure, died unexpectedly, without issue, a few months afterwards. Though really attached to his brother, the vast change in his circumstances and prospects prevented his feeling the loss so acutely as would otherwise have been natural. On receiving a summons to attend his afflicted parents, he lost not a moment, as may be imagined, in returning to Sicily. The heirs of families of distinction are never permitted to enter either the military or ecclesiastical professions, and in the event of a younger brother's succeeding to the prospect of the paternal inheritance, the vows if taken, are usually dispensed with by the court of Rome. The young count thus saw in an instant both impediments to his marriage unexpectedly removed. His father, at his solicitation, soon proposed to his friend, the duke, the union of the two families, in the persons of their respective heirs; an offer which was - accepted with pleasure by the duke, and with dignity by his daughter. An early day was appointed for the nuptial ceremony, which the duke determined should be celebrated at his feudal residence at La Bruca. Invitations were issued to all the nobility of the neighbourhood for many miles round. Of such extent were the preparations that a fete so magnificent as that intended had not been heard of for many years. The whole country was in motion. Congratulations poured in from every quarter, and all seemed interested in the happiness of the young couple. But there was one person, the Cavalier, (at the request of the friend who favoured me with the anecdote, I suppress his name, that of a noble at present existing in splendor in Catania) who did not partici faction manifested by others. This individual, who was remarkable for his wealth his accomplishments, and his handsome person, though still in the flower of life, was of an age which doubled that of the intended bride of the young count. One of her most passionate admirers, he had, during the residence of Rizzari at Rome, made proposals to her father. His family and wealth sufficiently reccomended him to the duke, but having prevented his daughter from choosing the object of her affections, he resolved at least not to force on her a match disagreeable to herself; and therefore while he testified his own readiness to accept the offer, referred the cavalier to his daughter for a final answer. She at once gave him a negative so decided, as to have extinguished hope in any bosom by a passion less consuming and uncontrollable than that of the cavalier. Undeterred by refusal, he continued to press his suite with an importunity, and even violence, which, instead of removing difficulties soon heightened indifferance into aversion; yet, calculating on the apparent impossibility of her being united to the object of her early flame, he relied on time and absence for obliterating from her heart the impression made upon it by young Rizzari, and assiduously persevered in his unwelcome attentions. Great then was his rage and disapointment at the death of the elder Rizzari? and the arrival, proposal, and acceptance of the younger as the husband of the lady, whom self-love had persuaded him was sooner or later destined to be his own. Tortured at once by all the pangs of unrequitted passion, and by a devouring jealousy, proud and vindictive by nature even beyond the wont of Sicilians of rank, the favoured lover became tho object of a hatred too deadly to be depicted by language, and the cavalier was heard to threaten a vengeance as terrible as were the bad passions which raged with such irresistible sway in his own guilty breast. Soon after the acceptance of Rizzari, the cavalier disappeared from Cantania; some said he had retired to one of his villas in the neighbourhood, others that he had gone abroad; in fact, no one knew whither he had betaken himself. The happiness of the lovers left them little time to think of the cavalier, and their fancied security did not permit them for a moment to fear, or even dream of the effects of his disappointment or resentment. The happy day at length came, the marriage was celebrated in the village chapel, which was thronged to excess by rich and jov and satis-poor, noble and peasant. At the moment they were received without difficulty, it being probably looked upon as some device for add when the enraptured bridegroom placed the emblematic circle on the slender finger of his lovely bride, a contemptuous and discordanting to the amusement of the party. Their laugh, so loud, so long, and so strange in its expression, that it resembled rather that of a fiend than that of a human being, was heard far above the hum and murmur of the assemblage in the chapel. Such extraordinary rudeness instantly drew the attention of all present; but to their astonishment, although the ominous peal still continued, it was impossible to ascertain the individual from whom it proceeded. When it at length ceased, the ceremony continued, and the affront, if it was meant for one, was soon forgotten in the succession of circumstances of a more agreeable nature. Every room in the superb old mansion, the bridal chamber excepted, was thrown open to the assembled hundreds; neither expense or labour had been spared, that could in any way add to the luxury and magnificence of the occasion. The table groaned beneath the innumerable delicacies placed before the noble company, who were entertained in the vast hall of the chateau; and ample supplies gladdened the peasants and dependants of both houses, who were feasted on the lawns and gardens before the palace. The banqueting at length ceased. The villa and the grounds were alike splendidly illuminated, and soon after nightfall dancing commenced both within and without the building. The bride, whose present felicity was so greatly in contrast with her late expectations, was observed to be in remarkable high spirits, making no affectation of concealing the happiness which pervaded her. After the ball had continued for some time, and all breathed satisfaction and pleasure, two persons, masked and dressed in the costume of peasants of the country, entered the principal saloon, and instantly began dancing, throwing themselves, with garlands which they held in their hands, into a variety of attitudes; it was observed that they both acquitted themselves surprisingly well, but one, from the contour of figure and lightness of movement, was suspected, though both were dressed in male attire, to be a woman. It is requisite to remark that the ball was not in mask, and that it is customary in Italy and Sicily for masks, when they join a company, to make themselves known to the master of the house, as a security against the introduction of improper or unwelcome per sons. This etiquette was not observed on the present occasion, but the masks entering with gesture expressive of a request for admission performance exciting the admiration of the company, the grace and ease of their move. ments became the subject of conversation. It then appearing that they were unknown, some of the guests, curious to discover them, hinted that it was time they should unmask, in order to take some refreshment; this they with signs, for they spoke not, at first declined, but being pressed, signified in the same manner that they would only discover themselves to the master of the house. The bridegroom was accordingly called from the side of his bride for this purpose, good humoredly joining his friends in soliciting the strangers to make themselves known, they gave him to understand, always in pantomine, that since such was his desire they were willing to gratify him, and that if he would retire with them for a moment, they would unmask, but to him alone, as they wished to preserve their incognito from the rest of the company. er. on. The count and the mask withdrew togethIn the meantime, the music, the dancing, and all the pleasures of the joyous scene went The absence of the dridegroom was scarcely noticed by any one except the bride, who, with eyes wandering in search of him, more than once testified her surprise at his stay. In about twenty minutes th same two persons, as was evident from their figure lately masked as peasants, re-entered the ball room, but their dress was changed, they were now in complete mourning. Between them, one supporting the head, the other the feet, they carried a third so carfully and entirely enveloped in a large black vest, that neither his form nor features were distinguishable.— As they moved slowly on with measured pace, they pretend by signs to express their grief for the death of the person they carried. An appearance so ominous on a nuptial night, excited sensations of an unpleasant nature; but no one thought proper to interfere in a pantomime which strange and ill-chose as it was, they conceived permitted by the master of the house. The masks having reached the middle of the room, deposited their burden there and began to dance round it in a variety of grotesque attitudes caricaturing sorrow. this all-boding and unaccountable scene, the high spirits of the bride instantaneously forsook her, and were succeeded by an almost preternatural sensation of dejection and horror. Looking anxiously round, she again, in a faltering voice, inquired for her husband. At The sister of Rizzari, one of the bridesmaids, struck by her sudden paleness and ill-suppressed agitation, asked if she was indisposed. She replied that she felt oppressed by a sense of anxiety and alarm, of which she could not conceive the origin. Her sister-in-law told her that it was nothing but the evaporation of her late unusual high spirits, which, as is often the case, were succeeded by a causeless depression. Just then, the masks having finished their feigned funeral dance, advanced to the bride, and one of them, the male drawing her by the sleeve, spoke for, the first time loud enough to be heard by those around," Venite a paingere le nostre e le vostre miserie" "Come and weep for your own misery and ours." A chill went through the heart of the bride at these ill-omened words. She drew shudderingly back, and fell almost insensible in the arms of her sister-in-law. A murmur ran round-it was manifest that the cause of the bride's alarm was owing to the extraordinary proceeding of the persons in mask, who, perceiving the impression they had excited, has tily withdrew. In an instant they had disappeared, but whither they went, or what became of them afterwards, was known to no one. In the meantime the bystanders remarked in surprise how well the person lying on the floor performed the part of a dead man, not a limb stirred, not a muscle moved, nor was he perceived to breathe. Curiosity prompted them to touclf him, and lift his arms, they fell heavy and motionless by his side, his hands too were cold to the touch-cold as that of a corpse. Surprise led them farther-they uncovered his face-O God! it was that of a corpse-and that corpse was the bridegroom! Who shall paint the dreadful scene that ensued? Exclamations of surprise, shrieks of horror, cries for the masks-here females swooning in terror-there men runnning to and fro with drawn swords-this inquiring the cause of the sudden disturbance-that denouncing vengeance on the murderers!—all was distraction and confusion! Her terrified friends instantly hurried away the trembling bride, anticipating some horrid event, as yet unconscious of the whole extent of her misfortune. As they bore her off, the name of her husband, dead, murdered, strangled, fell on her ears-insensibility for a few moments relieved her from the exquisite agony of her situation. They carried her to the bridal chamber-in that chamber had the accursed leed been perpetracd; the disordered furniire showed signs of a struggle-the instru ments of death lay on the floor, and on the nuptial couch the infernal assassins had cast a branch of funeral cypress, the token of their premeditated and accomplished vengeance. The duke, in whose bosom rage and anguish predominated by turns, stationed himself with a party of friends with drawn swords at the doors of the palace, while a strict but ineffectual search was carried on within. In a few minutes the party, late so joyous, broke up in consternation; hundreds instantly went off by different roads in search of the murderers, but all pursuit was unavailing. The police subsequently lent its aid: every angle of the country, for leagues round, was explored in vain. The perpetrators of the atrocious crime had escaped, nor indeed were they ever satisfactorily discovered. Suspicion fell on the cavalier; but though the most rigid search was made, he was not to be found. Some time after it was discovered that he had left Sicily, to which he never returned, and was residing at Vienna. It was rumored, but the truth was never clearly ascertained; that he subsequently confessed himself the author and actor of this horrid tragedy, and gloried in the daring and fiend-like sratugem by which he had so signally accomplished it. The widowed bride never recovered the shock. Her life was for a short time despaired of. As soon as her strength enabled her, she retired into her convent, where death, the best friend of the wretched, ere long put an end to her earthly sufferings. ANECDOTE OF A MILLER.-A certain miller had two sons, Jack and Bill. Whenever a grist was under way, the miller would walk up stairs, put his hand into the hopper, examine the grain, and exclaim at the top of his voice," I say, Bill, you toll'u this grist?” “Yes, father,” returned Bill, (who was at work in the loft above.) The miller, pretending not to hear him, would again roar out, "I say Jack, you toll'd this grist?"-" Yes Sir," answered Jack, (who was engaged down stairs.) "The lazy dogs," said the miller to himself (pretending not to hear his sons answer,)" if I were not here to toll the grain of my customers, my careless boys would ruin me!" A gentleman meeting a very homely man thus addressed him- My dear friend, you ought to take saffron constantly." "For what inquired the latter. "To keep the ugliness out, for if it even strikes in, it will certainly kill you." |