Lancaster Examiner and Herald

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NEW SERIES, VOL. IX:-NO 32.
PUBLISHED    BV
EDWARD C. DARLINGiPpN.
OFFICE IN NOETH UWEEN STEKKT.     .
The E.XAMINER&DEMOCRATIC HERALD
is iiidilished weekly at two irociiAns a year.
Auvi;ETisKMn\Ts not exceedingone squiue will bc inserted three times for oue dollar,and tweniy live cents will be charged for each.additional in¬ serliou. A liberal discount allowed to those wbo advertise b/ the -year.- ¦
The Man that Killed his Nei£!il)or,s.
FOUDED ON FACT.
BV   I.. MABIA   CIIJI.D.
Il itf o.urioba to ol).servc how a man's spirit¬ ual stale reflects itself in the people and ani¬ mals atounil him; nay; iti lhe very garments, trees, and slones. .     ,
Renbeij Blaek waa an iiifeslalioii in lhe neighborhooJ wherehe reside-J. The very siijht of. him proiluctd eflects similar to the Hmdoo magical lune called Rang, whieh is said lo bring on clouds, storms, and earth¬ quakes. His wife seemed lean, sharp and uncomfortable. The heads of his boys had.a brisllingaspect, as if eiichiiidiyidual liair stood on end°vilh perpetual fear. The cows poked oul lheir horns horizonlallyas soon as he open¬ ed lhe barn yard gate. The dog drqpped his his tail between his legs, and looked askance, 10 see what humor he was in. The cat look¬ ed wild and scraggy, ami had been known to rush straight up ihe chimney, when he inoved towards her. Fanny Kemble's e.'tpressive de¬ scriplion of lha Pennsylvania stage-horses, was e.'cactly suited lo Reuben's poor old nag. '•His hide resembled an old hair trunk."— Continual whipping ahd kicking had made him sueh a stoic th'dt no amount of blows could quicken his paci>, aod no chirruping could chanse'th'e dejected drooping of hiahead.— All his natural language said, as plain as a hoise could say it, that he was a most unhap¬ py beast. Even the trees on Reuben's prem¬ ises had a gnarled ami knolted appearance.— The bark wept little sickly tears oi gum, and the brariches grew awry as if they fell the continued discord, and mado sorry faces al eacb other behind their owner's back. His fields were red wilh sorrel, or run over wilh mullen. Everylhing seemed as hard and arid as his own visage. Every day he cursed the town and neighborhood, because they poison¬ ed his dogs, and stoned his bens, anil shot hie cata. Continual law suils involved him in so rauch e.\penso lhat he had neiiher time noi money to spend on the iraprovement of bis farm
Against Joe Smilh, a poor laborer inthe neighborhood, he had brought three suits in succession. Joe said he had relurned a. spade he borrowed, and Reuben swore he had not. He sued Joe, and recovered damages, foi which he ordered the sherifl' to sieze his pig. Joe, in his wrath, called him an old swindler, anil a curse to the neighborhood. The.se re¬ marks were soon repeated lo Reuben. He biought an action for libel, and recovered twen- tive cents. Provoked at the laugh this occa¬ sioned, he watched for Joe to pass, and sei his big dog upon him, screaming furiously, •¦' Call me an old swindler again will you !"— An evil spirit is more contagious than the plague. Joe vvent home and scolded his wife, and boxed little Joe's ears, and kicked the cat; aud nol one them knew what it was all for.— A fortnight after. Reuben's big dog was found dead by poison. Whereupon he brought another action against Joe Smith, and not be¬ ing able to prove him guilly of the charge of dog murder, ha took his reveuge by poisoning a pet lamb, belonging to Mrs. Smith. Thus the bad game went on, with mutual worrimenl and loss. Joe's temper grew more and more vindictive, and the love of talking over his troubles at the grog shop increased npon hint- Poor Mrs. Sinith cried and said it was all ow¬ ing to Reuben Black; for a belter hearted raun never lived than her Joe, when she lirsl mar¬ ried him.
Such was the slate of things  when Simeon Green purchased the farm adjoining Reuben's. The estate had becn much neglected and bad caught thistles and muUens from the neigh¬ boring fields.   But Simeon was a diligent man, aud bleiwed by naluip with a heaUhy organi¬ zation and a genial temperament; and a wise and kind education had aided nature in the perfection of her goodly work.   His providenl industry soon clianged the aspect of things on the. farra.    River mud, autumn leaves, old shoes and old bones, were ail put in requisi¬ tion to assist in the production of use and beauty.   The trees, wilh branches pruned, and bark scraped free from moss and insecls, soon looked  clean and vigorous.    Persian li¬ lacs bowed gracefully over the simple  gate¬ way.    Michigan roses covered half the house wilh theiraburidant clusters.    Even the lough rock, which formed the door step, was edged with golden mess.   The sleek horse, feeding iu clover, tossed his mane and neighed when his masier came near, as much as to say, 'The world is all the pleasanter, for iiaying you in it, Simeon Green !'   The old cow fondling her calf under the great walnut tree,  walked up to him with serious friendly face, asking for the slice, of sugar beet lie was wont to give her.   Chanticleer, strutting about, wilh his troop of plumphensand downy little chickens, took no trouble to keep out of his vray, but flap¬ ped his glossy wings, and crowed a welcome in his very faoe.   When Simeon lurned his steps homeward, the boys threw up their cap.s antr ran out shouting, ' Father's coming!' and little IVlary went toddiing up to him with a ilandelion bloasoiu to place in his button hole. His wife was a woman of. few words, but she someiimes said to her neighbors, with a quiet kind of satisfaction, ' Eveiy body loves my husband that knows Itim.    They can't help it.'
Simeon Green's acquaintance knew that he was never engaged in a law snit in his life; but they predicted that he would iind it im¬ possible to avoid it now. They told him his ne.xt neighbor was determined lo quarrel with people,whelher they would or nol; that he was like John Lilbuine, of whom Judo Jenkins said,' If the world was emptied of every per¬ son but himself, Lilburne would still quarrel wilh John, and John wilh Lilburne.'
'Is thai his character!'said Simeon. '11 heexercises.it upon me, I would soon kill him.'
In every neighborhood there are individuals who like to foment disputes, nol from any I'e- fluite inlention of malice or mischief, bul . merely because it makes a little ripple of ex¬ citement in lliH dull stream ol life, like a con¬ test between dogs or game cocks.    Such peo
pie were notslovf in repeatingSimeon Green's remark abont his  wrangling neighbor    'K'.ii
dncetl great results for mankind, had those qnalities been devoied lo some more noble purpose than provokingquairels. A pear tree in llis garden very improperly stretched over a fiiendly arm into Simeon Grern's premises.. Whether Iho sunny state of things there had a cheering elfect oa the tree I know not; but it happened that this overhanging bough bore more abundant fruit, and glo-wed with a j-icher hue, than tho other boughs. One day little George Green, as he' Svent whistling along, picked up a pear that had fallen into ^is fath¬ er's garden. The inslant be touched it he felt something on thc back of bis neek, like lhe stmg of a wasp. It was Reuben Black's whip, followed by such a storm.of angry words liiat lbe poor child rushed into l.'ie house in an agony of terror. But this e.\periment failed also. The boy was soothed by his mother, and lold not to go near tlte pear tree agaiu; and there the matter ended.
This imperturbable good nature ve.\ed Reu¬ ben more than allthe trioks and taunts he' met from others. Evlleilorts he could under¬ stand, and repay with compound interest; but lie did not know what to make ofihis perpet¬ ual forbearance. It seemed to hitn there hiust be Eomething contemptuous in it. He dislik¬ ed Simeon Green more than all the resl of the lown pul logether, because he made him feel so uncomfortably in the wrung, and did not aflibrd him the slightest prete-Xt for complaint. It was annoying losee every tbing in hia neigh¬ bor's doniaiuK looking so happy and presenting .such a bright contrast lo lite-forlornness ofhis r)wn. When their wagons passed eaoh oiher nn the road, il seemed as if Simeon's horse toss¬ ed his hp.-id higher, and flung out his mane, iisif he knew he was going by Reuben Black's old nag. He often said ne supposed Green covered his housu with roses and honeysuck¬ les on purpose lo shame his bare walls. Bul he didn't care—nul he! Ho wasn't goingto befool enough lo rot Ais boards with such stuff. Hnt 110 one resenled his disparaging re¬ marks, ur sought lo provoke him in any way. Phe roses smiled, the horte neighed, and the calf capered, but none of them had the least idea lliey were insuUingReuben Black. Even the dog had no malice in his hearl, though he lid one night chase home his geese, and bark ll them Ihrongh the bais. Reuben lold hi.i masier, the ne.xt day, and swore he would bring an action against him if he didn't keep lhat dog at home: and Simeori answered very Liuielly lhat he would try to take betier caie of him. For .several days a strict watch was kept, in hopes Tovvser would worry the geese again; bul they paced home undisturbed, and not a solitary bow-vow furnished e.vcuse for a, law-suit.
The new neighbors not only declined quar¬ relling; bnt they occasionally made posiiive advances towards a friendly relation. Sim¬ eon's wife senl Mrs. Black a large basket full of very fine cherries. Pleased wilh the unex¬ pected allenlion, shs cordially replied.' Tell your molher it was very kind of her, and I am very much obliged lo her.' Reuben, wlio sat smoking in the chimney cornet, listened to this measage once without any manifestation of impatience, e.xcept whiffing lhe smoke ihrough his pipe a little faster and fiercer ihan usual. But when the boy was going outof the door, and the friendly words were again repeated, he exclaimed, ' Don't make a fool of yourself, Peg. They want to give us a hint lo send a basket of our pears; that's the up¬ shot of lhe business. You may send 'em a basket when they aie ripe; for I scoin lo be under obligation, especially lo your smoolh- tongued folks.' Poor Peggy, whose arid life had been for lhe moment refreshed witha little ilew of kindness, admitted disliusi inlo ber bosom, and the halo that radiated round the ripe glowing cherries departed.
IMct long after this advance lowards good neighborhood, some laborers employed by Simeon Green, passing ovor a bit of marshy ground, with a heavy team, stuck fast in a bog, occasioued by long continned rain. The ponr o.xeii were eniirely unable to extricate themselves, and Simeon ventured lo ask as¬ sislance from his waspish neighbor, who was working at a shott distance. Reuben replied gruffly, ' I've got enough to do to attend to my own business.' The civil request that he might be allowed to use his o.xen and chains for a few moments, being answered in lhe same surly lone, Simeon silently walked off in search ofa more obliging neighbor.
The men, who were left waiting with the patient, suffering o.xen, soolded about Reuben's ill-natnre, and said they hoped he wonld get stuck in the same bog himself. Their employ¬ er rejoined,' If he does, we will do our duty and help him out.' 'Their is such a ihing as being too good natured,' said they. ' If Reu¬ ben Black lakes Ihe notion that people arc a- fraud ot him, it makes hun trample on them worse then ever.'
' Oh, wait a while,' replied Mr. Green, smil¬ ing, ' I will kill him before long. Wait and see if I don't kill him.'
It chanced, soon after, that Reuben's team did slick fa6t in the samo bog, as the work¬ men had wished. Simeon observed it from a neighboring field, and gave directions tiiat the oxen and chains .should be immedialely con¬ veyed to his assistance. The men laughed, shook their heads, and said it was good enough for the old hornet. They, however, cheerfully proceeded to do as tbeir employer had re¬ quested. ' You are in a bad situation, neigh¬ bor,' said Simeon, as he came along side of the foundered team. ' But my men are com¬ ing with two yoke of o.xen, and I Ihink wc I shall soon manage to help you out.' 'You make take your oxen back again,' leplied Reuben, 'I don't want any of your help.' In a very friendly tone Simeon answered;' I can¬ not consent to do lhat; for evening is coming on, and you have little time to lose. It is a bad job any time, but worse in the dark.'— ' Light or dark, T don't ask your help,' replied Reuben, emphatically. ' I would't help you oul of the bog, the otherday, when you asked me.' ' The trouble I had in relieving my poor oxen teaches rae to sympathise with others in Ihe same situation,'answered Simeon. 'Don't let us waste words about it, neighbor. It is impossible for me to go home and leave you herii in the bog, and night coming on.'
The team was aoon drawn out, and Simeon .^nd his men went away, without waiting for ihanks. When Reuben went honielhat night' he was unusually silent and thoughtful. After smoking a while, ih -deep contehiplatibn, he gently knocked the ashea from his pipe, and Slid, wilh a sigh, ' Peg,"Simeon Green /ws killed me!' 'What do you iriean'?' ^aid his wife, dropping her knitting, with a- look of You know whenhe first came into
surprise.
I this neighborhood, he sai(i he'k kill me,' le-
~ ,..     ^l"  P'"''! Ue«bBii;'aiid he hasdoneil.  Tbeolh-'
me .'wdl her exclaimed Renben..   He said   erday he asked me to help draw his team out
no more; his tighUy compressed motith  had  of lUe bog, and Itold him 1 had enough to do
such a significant expression thaljh'is dog dod, edhim, as he would life track!of a tiger.— That very night Renben turned his horse into the highway in.hopes that he wpuld commit some depredationa on neighbor Green's- pre¬ mises.    But Joe Smith, seeing the aniinal at large, let down the bars of Reuben's own corn field, and the poor beast walked in, and feast¬ ed as he had not dune for many .a year.   Il would have been a great satisfaction to Reu¬ ben ii he could have brought a law suit a- gainst his horse; but as it was he was.obiiged to conient himself with beating him.   His next exploit was to shoot Mary Green's hand- 6ome chanticleer, because he stood on the stone wall and crowed, in lhe ignpiant joy oi his heart, two inches beyond the frontier iine that bounded the oontiguons farms,   Simeon said he was sorry for the poor bird, and sorry because his wife and children liked the pretty creature; but oiherwise it was no great mat¬ ter;   He had been intending to build a poult¬ ry yard, with a good high fence, that hia hens might not annoy his neighbors; and now he waaadmoniBhed to make haste and dp it.- He would huild them a snug, warm house to roosl in; theyshouldhaveplenty of gravel and oats, and loom ;to promenade back and forth, and
to attend to my own business. To day my team stuck fast in the same bog, aud became with two yoke of oxen to draw it out. 1 fell sort of ashamed to huve him lend me a hand, so 1 told Ium I did'nt want any of hia help; but he answered, just as pleasant as if noih¬ ing hatl ever happened, that night was coming on, and he was not williug to leave me Ihere in mud.' ' It was very good of him,' replied Peggy. 'He IS a pleasant spokeu man, and always has a preity wotd to say to the boys. His wife seems to be a nice neighborly body, too.' Reuben made no answer: but after med¬ itating awhile, he-rematked, ' Peg, yon know lhat big ripeinetondort'n at iheboitomof the garden ? you may as well carry it over there, Ul the mbrnirig.'- His'^Y'ife'said she wonld, withnut asking: wliere 'over there' svas.
But when the niorning came, Peuben \ralk- ed back and forth, apd round, .with that sort of aimless activity, oftenmapir^sted by hens, and fashionable idlers, who feel refitiess, and don't know what to run afler. At length, the o«us8 of his uncertain movement* was ex¬ plained, by hia saying, in thelform of a-ques- tion, ' I guess I may as well carry tbe inelon myself, and thank him for bis oxen. In my flurry down there in tha marsh, X did.'nt think
On into Simeon Green's I bODBe." It was the most remarkabla incident that: Imd. happisned since her. marriage. She could,harilfy,be¬ lieve her own eyes. He walked, q^uick, as if alraid he ahould not be aSle'to carry.the uii-^ usualiiiipulses inlo abtion if he slbp^ijd lo're- 'consider lhe qheslibii 'Whenhe found himi self in Mr. Greert's"house, he felt • extremely awkward, and hastened to say,
'Mrs, Qreen, here is a melon my wife sent JOU, and we.rdckqn it's a ripe one.' VVithout mahifes'ting any'surprise at such'ah unexpect¬ ed coiirteBy, the friendiy rhatroh' thanked hnn ainl invited him to sililown. Bnt he*looil playing with the latch .of the dour; imd wilh-. out raising bis eyes said, 'May be Mr. Green ain't in this morniiigll
'He is at the pump suiit will be in directly,' she replied, and before her word.<\vi;re spoken the iionest man walked ni; withH face as fresh and bright as a June'morning. Ho step¬ ped right up to Reuben, shook his.hand cordi¬ ally, and said, 'J. ain.gl^d lo see you neighbor. Take a chair    Take a chair.'
'Thank you, I can't slop,' replied Reuben. He pnshed his Hat on'one side, rtibbed his head, looked but of tiio window, and then said suddenly, as if by a desperate effort, 'The fact is, Mr. Gieen, 1 didn't behave right about the o.xen.'
'i\ever mind, never mind,' replied Mr. Green." 'Piirhaps I shall get in the bog again some of ihese rainy' daya. If I do, I shall know whom lo call upon.'
' Why yon see,' said Reuljen, still very ranch confused, and .avoiding. Simeon's mild clear eye, ' you see lhe neighbors about are ye.'y ugly. If 1 had aiways lived by such neiglibors .is you are, 1 should'nt be just as I am.' '      '
' All, well, we musl try lo be 10 olheis what we-want themto be to us,' rejoined Simeon.— •' You know the good book says ao. I have learned hy expeiieiice lhat if we speak kind woids we hear kind echoes. Il we try lo make otiiers happy, it fills them witha wish to make ns happy. Perhaps yoii and 1 can bringthe neighborhooti round, in tirae. Who knows? Let'us try, Mr. Black, let us Iry. But come and look at ray orchard. I want loshow you a tree which 1 have grafted with very choice apples, ifyou like, 1 will procuie you some scions from the same slock.'
They went into lhe orchard together, and friendly chat soon pnt Reuben at his ease.— When he relurneil home he made no remarks about his visit; for he could not, as yet, sum¬ mon sufficient greatness of sonl to teli his wife that he had confessed himself in the wrong. A gun stood behiud the kilclien door, in read¬ iness to shoot Mr. Green's dog for having bark¬ ed at his horse. He now fired the contenis in¬ lo the air, and put lhe gun away in the barn. From that day henceforth, he never sought for any pretext lo quarrel with, either dog or his master. A short lime after, Joe Smilh, to his utler aslonishmenl, saw him pat Towser on the head, and heatd him say, 'Good fellow I' Simeon Green svas far too magnaniinons to repeal lo any one lhat his quarrelsome neigh¬ bor had confessed himself to blame. He mere¬ ly smiled as he said lo his wife, ' I thought we shonld kill him after awhile.'
Joe Smith did not beliere in such doctrines. When he heard of ttie adventure in tiie marsh he said, 'Simeon Green's a fooi. When he first carae here he talked very big abont killing folks, if lliey did'nt mind their P's and Q's. But he don't appear to have as much spirii as a worm, for a worm will turn when it's trod upon.'
Poor Joe had grown more intemperate and more quarrelsome, till at last no ono wuuld employ him. About a year after the memo¬ rable incident of the water melon, snme one stole several valuable hides from Mr. Green. He did not mention the circumatance to any one but his wife; and Ihey buth had leasons for suspecting that Joe was the thief. -The next week the following anonymous adver¬ tisement appeared in the newspaper of the county:
'Whoever stnle a lot of hides, on Friday night, the Slh of the present month, ia here¬ by informed that the owner has a sincere wisli to be his friend. If poveriy tempted him to this false step, the owner will keep the whole transaction a secret, and wilF gladly put him in the way of obtaining raoney by means moro likely to bring hiin peace of mind.'
This singular adverlisenient of course ex¬ cited a good deal of remark. There was much debate whether or not the thief would avail himself of the friendly offer. ' Some said he would be a greenhorn if he did; for it was manifestly a tr.ap lo catch him. . But he \yho had committed the dishonest deed alone knew whence the benevolent offer game, and he knew that Simeon Green was not a man to set traps for his leliow creatures.
A few nights afterwards a timid knock was heard at Simeon's, door,.just as the family was retiring to rest. When the door was opened Joe Smilh was seen on the step."!, with a load of hides on his shoulder. Without raising his eyes, hc said, in alow humble tone, 'I have brought these back, Mr. Green; where shall I put theml'
'Wait a moment, till I ean light a lantern, and I will go to the barn with you,' he repli¬ ed. 'Then you will come in and tell me how it happened. We wiil see wliat can be done for yon.'
Mrs; Green knew that Joe Often went hun¬ gry, and had beoome accustomed to the stim¬ ulus ot rum.   She therefore hastened to make I hot coffee, and brought .from the closet some meat and pie.
When they relurned from the baru she said, 'I thought youmiglit feel the betier fora little warm aupper, neighbor Smhh.' Joe lurned his back towards her, and did not speak. He leaned his head against the chimney, and af¬ ter a moment'a silence, he said, in a choked voice, 'It was the first lime, I ever stole any¬ thing; and I have felt very bad aboiit it. I don't know how itis. I did'nt think once, I siionld ever come to be what I am. Bull toot to quarreling, and then to drinking. Since I begun to go downhill everybody gives me a kick. You are lhe fiist man lhat has ofiered me.a helping hand. My wife is feeble and my children slarving. You liave sent lhem many a meal, God bless you, and yet 1 stole the hides from you, meaning lo sell Iheni the first chance 1 could get. But I tell you the truth, Mr.Green, it is the firfit time I ever de¬ served the name of thief
'Let it be the fast, my Iriend,' said Sjmeon, pressina ilis h'and kindly. 'The secret shall remain between ourselves. You are a young man and can rhak'e np forihe lost lime. Come noWj give me a promise that yon will not drink one drop of intoxicating liquor for a year, and I will employ you to-morrow, at good wage.s. Mary will go lo see; your family early in Ihe'morhing, and perhaps we may find some employ-nieht for them also. The Iiitle boy caaat least pick np ktones. But eat a bil now and drink sohie hot coffee. It will keep you from-wanting: lo drink anything stronger to-night. You-will find it hard to abstain at first, Joseph,' but keep up a biave heart for. the sake oi" your wife ind children, and it wiU. soon become easy. When you feellhe need of cofiee, tell my Mary, and 'she will always give'it to you.' ¦       '     '
Joe tried to eat and drink, but the food seemed lo choke hira. He .was nervous and e.xcited. After an ineflectnal effort locom- ppae himself, he laid hia head on Ihe lable and wept like a child.
After avvhile, Simeon'petBuaded him to bathe his he.ad in-cold -water,arid beale aud drank with a good appetite. Wlien- he.went away the kind-hearted host.said, .'Try to do «-!ell, Joseph, and you shall always find a friend in me.'' '   " '
The poor fellow ntessed his hand, and re¬ is you kdl
toe; MAD WOLF.
A TALE OF THE ROCKY. MOUNTAINS.
crow ahicackle to their hearl'8coatent;,therel to aay I was obliged to him. they .could .enjoy themselvea, and be out ofj    He marched off towards the garden.and bis harm's'way. : _        ,_ 1 wife stoodat thedoor, withone hand on'her
. But Bueban Black had> degree of ingenui- \ hip, and tiie other shading the sim from' her ty and perseverance which might have pro-1 eyes, to see if he really 'would carry the mel-
The poor fellow pressed hia hand, plied; ¦! undeislanU iibw how it is bad neighbors.'
- Ha entered Mr. Green's service the next day, and remained in it many yeais, an hon¬ est and faiihful man.
Perils OF Cbebrt Githeeiho ^Three per-.
Bons-weie adraitted into the Pennsylvania Hospi¬ tal on Saturday, with injuries austainsil by fBlling , out of Cherry trees in the neighbo'thijod of "Phil¬ adelphia.*
. In the monih of October, 1833, I \vas on my return from atrappi'ig lour on GreeiiRiv- er, theGraud Colorado of the West, in com¬ pany wilii three companions, one named Al¬ e.xander, a half-rbrfsed^Verbonceur, a Freiich- ra'aii—an an American, iramed Worthington. After a long day'straWp. we halted-in a neck -uf limber, "upona tributary of the Colorado, immediately bordering upon a wide spreading prairie: and litivina here pilclipil-Aur lent, and lied the animals, vvi .starti'd oiJl to' fecon- noiire lhe neighborhood surrounding the camp ground. The countiy we. had been travelling over aUday lay immediately.,in lhe path of the roving bauds of Arapalio and (Jiow Indi¬ ans, and the former tribe was the while man's inveter»te foe. Cauiion, tlierefore, counsel¬ led us lo exa.minethe tracks imprinted around ua before we. resigned ourselves to security and repose. Having mounted a.wii low-cov¬ ered ridge, near the encampment, I descend¬ ed into a small valiej- on our right, and had not proceeiied far before I descried smoke is¬ suing froni the coveit. 'Carefully approach¬ ing the spot T soon discovered a numeroua war party cncampmerif of the Crows, and as Ihey were friendly to the Company I belong¬ ed to. witliout hesitation I ehleied the circle seated aroiirid the fire. All seized lheir wea¬ pons wi'.h a general exclamation of " Aow.'" when, informing them inlheir own language, thatl\vas "Little Wolf—'.i name, conferred upon me by an old chief of lheir tribe when 1 sojourned al ilieir'village—they immediate¬ ly remembered'me, and ail si;rns nf hiislilities were stayed beisveen us. .Allera friemlly fihakin'g;of hands and a short ainoke of the calumet, I obiained all iha information 1 need¬ ed relative to the Arapahos, and wilh pleas¬ ure learned Ihal ihe war parties of the Crows had driven lhem far beyond the southern hunting grounds. The chief of lhe parly, and anumberof his braves -acoonipanied me a short disiance onmy return, and when we parted, it was with mutual expressions of friendship. On arriving at camp, I found my companions-awaiting my coming. P>ch re¬ ported lheir observaiions, and iho informalion which I imparled was received wilh general satisfaction. It also coufirineii Iheir several reports, all declaring Iheir search yitdded no aign of hostile foolsleps.
Every preparation was now made fur a night of ueinterrupted repose, and everylhing promised the luxury. Our wearied maich, wilh the unceasing watchfulness necessaiy for safely, had worn us down, until a night of unbroken sleep was looked forward to as the greatest boon circumatances could confer up¬ on us. A foe would not approach us in lhe poaition we occupied, with our fiiends the Crows posted iiisuehclo.se proximily—ihey were nearly wiihin iiail—ceriainly wiihin sound of OUl guns. A final examination was made of the lariat ropes which confined our animals, and then a shorl smoke—the tiap- pei 3 greatest luxury—was indulged in; afler which, spreading the bufialo robes, we drop¬ ped off into a slumber that needed no artifi¬ cial aids to prolong ils soundness.
How long we had lain in sleep 1 know not; but, all at once, wilh a suddenness which siarted repose into flight, 1 felt inysoll jerked from the robe on wiiich I was resting: My firsl Ihought was tiiat Indians liad attacked US, but the liglit of the lire discovered my antagonist lo be a wolf, who hail seized and still held me fast bythe left hand. .1 had no sveapon witliin my reach, .so, wiihout hesita¬ tion,! struck him with my shut fist, and de¬ livering the blow npon his grinning muzzle with all my force, broke his liohl, bnt in do-- ing so lacerated my thumb against his losk! ttie wliole was but the work of a moment.— Aie.xandre, who lay nearest lo me, aroused himself, and, no sooner was 1 rel.-ased from the infuriated beast, than it seized him by the cheek. He clioked il off, wlien by this time, Verbonceur and Worthington, having secur¬ ed their knives, rushed upon the aniraal.— Each inflicted wounds upon iiim, but both were bitten. Witha liowl which curdled the hearer's blood, our assailant lied, and disap¬ peared in the darkness. This .sudden and vi¬ olent interruption to our slumbers wasnot en¬ dured with christian meekness, nor commen¬ ted on in tliose choice epithets whicii bespeak a delightful surprize. On Ihn contrary, we all indulged in a few bitter expletives against this nocturnal visitor, and, iiaving llius in a measure appeased the wrath willnn n.s, wu hastily bound up the w^ounds we had receiv¬ ed, and once more forgot our dangers in the oblivion of sleep.
When morning broke, all aJliod forth, in different direetions, filled with revengeful pnr-
floses asainst the wolf, believing he would urk in iTur neighborhood. But, after an ex¬ tensive search, we wereforced to forego the firomised revenge, and vent onr anger in dec- aralions of what, we would have done if cliance had only placed him within gun-shot. On my reiurn I again encountered the Crow parly, the chief of which informed me that a mailivolf had. visited their camp lhe night previous. He had been driven nif, however, before he had billeii any of the parly. Tiiis intelligence chilled iny 'jlood with a horrid apprehension; and when he added lliat tlie animal fled in the direction of our camp, I felt assured he had been our fierce visitor. With gioomy forebodings of coming ill I re¬ turried lo my companions, who were prepar¬ ing ior a start:
Everything being in readiness, we depart¬ ed from  the camping ground,  and,  holding our way dowu the yalley,  came  npon  the great   Crow  trace,  where, discoveiiiig   llie tracks ofa large party ol while men, we fol¬ lowed it up antl fell iu wdh a trapping party of Ihe Norlli Ameriean Fur Company.   From tliem   I  obtained  some  whiskey  and  salt, which I applied to my wounds, and advising ray cpmjianiona to use the same precaution, I iri'.iriiated that the animal which bit ns might be rabid.   They langhed at my fears, but af¬ ter, as I thought, sufficiently amu.5irig them¬ selves about ray womani; ll drea   ofa wolf bile, :I-cliecked  their mirlii .by im|«iiting to them the information I had  cained from the CiowS.    Having, however, eommenci'i! amu¬ sing themselves al the expense of my fears, iu a spiiit of bravado they continued.    I was awed by a presentiment of coming evil, and exhibiled  it no doubt in  my  conntenance. Moreover, between dread of lhe woun:ls 1 had received, and cliagrin  al tlipir ill-limcd merriment, I was influenced to drink  freely of tiie liquor.    My slolid air of indifference, logellier with my continued libations,  alarm¬ ed theni,  fori was habitually tempeiale as regarded drink—but the reverse in passion. An outburst of auger on my part would hnve been  nalural, and  have amused  lhem—bnt my troubled countenance coupled With Ihe quiet despair of my actions, raaife tiieni un¬ easy, and thny watched me with  inlerest. "The.liquor first made keen my sensibilities, their imparled a reckless indifierence, which was followed  by the stupor of.deepinloxica- tion; and  .wrapped  in ils altendant  robeof deep oblivion,  I forgot lhe pievious night's encounter.   Tlie songs and adventures relat ed around the  camp fire on that night were unheard  by me—and bolh companies,weie- prepared to separate in lhe mornirig  before they aroused me from  my deep sleep.   All Ihe  painful  feelings of inloxlcalion   awkeo with me, and,  siupid and  siek, I  made my way to a brook beside the halliiig-ground and laved my fevered liead and boJy in ils cold waters.   Here worthington, one of my coin- panionB separated from us and joined the oth¬ er .company.    Bidding him and'the other par¬ ty adieu,  we tnrned onr horses'heads,  and agSin look np our line of maroh for tho Lara¬ mie river.'   We were in a region where dan¬ ger lurked in every "bush, and where the fool- steps of human being brought hostility alihost as surely as the cloud* betoken rain.   Thus far.-lhrough the whole season of trapping we had escaped linhurt, and were returning rich¬ ly laden'with the spoils. .
Bnt while successfullv avoiding the savage lloe, ahiddeaone 'wasat-work in our midst more terrible than the painted -warriors of the
western desert—more appalling in its promise ed faluiity than lho :torturuis knilo.of the ruthless ted man. J/i//f)op/ioi)ia, inalj ils pan¬ oply of terrori', leoked oul froni Ihe eyes thai surrounded me, and I thought the madness wast reflected back trom thy own.
Onthe day we crossed the Cac/tc-o-Za-Pou- dr-s river, a oolt, oii.vvhich we had strapped some light articles, betrayed syipptoms ol the malady, and for the first tiiiie we found b'ui timt lie liad been bitten'. Ale'xiinder and Ver- baiicenr had fastened their gnns upon his baclt, -to relieve themselves.of the burden vyiiile climbing the river bauks, and now with ilisniay Ihey observed him break loose Irom lhe niule to which he was attached, andwitb it 3eil of terror ily from the stream we had just crossed, the fnam gathering around his iiiouih, iiidicaiiiig vvith ceriainly l,he cause ol his frantic actions. The arms he bore away were necessary for onr protection. I, there¬ foro siarted in pursuit—bnt the mad animal being lightly laden, soon left ray jaded mult far behind, and, dashing over a ledge to our left, ere I reached lhe promontory was lar om of sight. Misfortune appeared 10 have thrown her mantle over ns, and, to a dread of the disease which Ihreatoned us, was now added Ihe loss of weapons. Continuing our course down lhe bordersof the Laramie, which be¬ came fiozen over by tlie continued cold weath¬ er, we approached ihe Nbrlh Fork of the Plalte, and while in its immediate neigbbor¬ liood, i'ai'cied we observed the colt quieiiy grazing in a plain before us. Leaving Alex¬ andre who complained of being ill, in lhe lent, Verbonceur and myself siarted in the pursuit. A Hicket of hope stole about our hearts that lhis indeed might be the runaway aniinal, free from hydrophobia, vvhich had Ued, startled by the dose proximily ol a beast of prey, or had been only stung to mo¬ menlary rnadness by some venomous insect. As we neared the animal, all hopes fled—dis¬ tance and our ardent wishes had converted the hump ol a buffalo into lhe semblance ol a pack, vvhicii on nearer approach resolved ilself into its real character, and casl us back again into a slate of despondency. At this moment a cry from my companion who vviis pointing toward camp, direcied my allenlion ihiiliervvaril, and Ihe next moment f beheld onr tent on fire, and the half-breed flourishing aronnd his head a burning faggot. VVe iii¬ slantly turned our horse.s' heads, nnd hasten¬ ed wilh all speed toward him—as we ap¬ proached he staried off the pack mules with his brand, and when vve reached Ihe spoi all our wor.st fears were confirmed—he was a howl ing.«i(ii/man.
Ai'ter a violent struggle, in which he inflic¬ ted several blows upon us bolh, we succeed¬ ed in securing his arms, and having bouml him npon a pallet of skins, we drove slakes inin the frozen jrround and iheie lied him.— While he raved aud howled, all the savage in llis nainre made predoininant by his malady, Verbonceur and myself sat weighed down with horrid dread, and were contemplating each oiher wilh lear. I fancied I beheld a wild expression in his eyes, and no doubi lie observed tiie same in mine. .Alexandre, in the mean lime, recovered from his convul¬ sion, and in tones of earnest supplication l,e- souglit ns to end his torture by sendinga bnl- let through his brain. His supplications bul echoed the thoughis which were coursing through my mind—1 was medilaling suicide wilh all the coolness of a wretch woose cup of de^air isto the full; and the tide of wlil,;H but lingers on the brim. Another, and anoth¬ er convulsion lollowed the progress of the disease upon poor Alexandre ; in his terrible paroxysms he lore one arrii loose from Ihe chords, and wilh a howl began to rend it wilh his teeth : when we secured llio limb he tri¬ ed lo seize bis shoulder, this vre prevented by placing a strap across his foreliead, aud fas¬ tening it on each side vvith sleaks^ie now bit his lips with fury and the foam and blood gathered about lhem in his agony, while the pupil of his dark eje shot fire, and lhe ball, vvhich a few days previous was while as the snow upon the hills, assumed a hue as red as blood. Al! other dangers vanished before this one—the savage foe no longer inspired fear, and lie would have been weicomeii to a eon¬ Uiet vvhich promised lor us certain death. As the snn ofihat day of sorrow went dovvn, the half-breed's paroxysms became more violent, and seating ourselves beside his rude moun¬ tain couch, we watched him through the gloom of nighi. Morning at length dawned, and we wero lejoieed that wilh ils first blush the spirii of onr eomiade fled, leaving his tor¬ tured body to ils long sleep.
Alexander's knife had been carried off by llle colt with lhe guns, aud the amount of aims between us vvas one rifle, two  knives, and a pislol ; ofthose my companion had bnta knife as his share, and I felt selfishly glad, for he vvas an athletic man, who, armed, in madness, would  slay  me  iu a moment;   I therefore clutched the weaf.ons I possessed with an eager gripe, and watched my comrade's mo¬ tions with painful vigilance.    We could nnt bury Alexander's body, the  earth  being so fiozen lhat we could not dig it wilh our knives; we tlierefore, siarted down the river with the intention of cutting a hole through itie ice and dejwsiting il in the slream out ofthe reach of wolves. Verbancour first commenced cutting, but had not succeeded in making a  crevice before he snapped his knife blade  off about midway.    This accident, at any time vvhile in the mountains, would have been looked upon as a great misfortune—in onr situalion it was viewed as a frightful calamity—a loss which rendcied us weak and helpless in de¬ fence and vvhich it was impossible lo replace : and  yet, paradox as it  may  seeso, ¦while  I grieved  1  rejoiced, for, wiiile it diminished the number of our  weapons, iI robbed  my companion of the only dangerous one lie had left, and one I had looked upon with dread.— [ represented lo hirn the necessiiy of carefully preserving the other knife, and he assented ; vve therefore concluded  not lo  risk it on the ice. but folding up the  remains of onr dead companion in  a bufl'alo robe, left it npon the prairio   wiihout   sepulture   vvith the winds, alono lo murmur his dirge.    So perished the firsl victim of the mad wolf.
he again relapsed into dreadful convulsions. My despair had.now no luwei depth. I look¬ ed npon my remaining comrade and shared in his agony, lor ,1 expected ihat inevitable as fate my turn vvould comie he.xl : and yet wiih Ihis belief preymg at my heart.some unknown powerof the hpman will held back my hand when I would have yielded to my comrade's entreaties for death.
At times the resolulion to despatch liim,and follow it up with my own dealh^ was on lhe very eve of being consuramaled, wlien a wiiis- pei of hope woulil bjd me to iirraly suffc: on. Worn orit naiure conld bear up no longer without repose; and so wearied was I in mind and tiody, ttiat almost nnconsciousiy 1 sunk into slumber. While the fire at my feet grew more and more dim, my senses wandered away in a delightful dream to the fireside of my old home, and the wildness of the trap¬ per's life, its many perils and hardships melt ed away in tin) sofl sunlight of an. autumn sky, which seemed to throw ils golden beam: overmy faf off home. There the seltlersmok ed his pipe ill security, his household slum bered in peace, and the morning sun awoke him to'enjoyment instead of fear. My dream had taken the hue of my hopes and wishes.. While my senses vuere thus wrapped, the report of fire-arms dispelled Ihe vision, and not knowing for a moment whether it vvas a droam or reality, I sprang to my feet and felt for my pislol—il was gone ! I stood for a mo¬ ment ciiUecling my thoughis, and partly wait¬ ing to feel the efl'ecls of the wound; bul nu sensation of pain maiiil'e'sling itself, I seized a brand from the Jmouldering fire and held il over rny companion; all was .solved at a glance—he iiad in his struggles released one arm, and a lucid fit intervening, Verbanceur had drawn llie pislol fiom my belt, while I slept, and ended liis agony by his own hand. I was now afoiic—far in the vvilderiie.ss—a dreadful appreiieneioii of the yoison being in my veins ever piesent to niy thoughis—and thus seated in darkness by iny dead compan¬ ion, my heart bowed down and my mind cheerless as the gloom snriouiiding me, 1 yielded to llio feelings vvhicli were preying upon my manliood, and-vvejit like a child.— Morning at lengih dawned, and folding my dead companion up, as «'e iogelher had" pre¬ viously bestowed lhe first viijtiin, 1 mounteil a inule, and wilh '.he pack aniina's pursued my solitary way. My march was now one of indift'erence, aud wilh a kind of foolish daring-, 1 plunged  througli  every stream im¬
peding my progress, and drank ireely of llieir walers, inviting as it were the madness I was sure wonld cume. My progress was tedious, diflicult, laborious and Inll of hardships, but atlength, almost worn down, I arrived al our trading post cn Ihe Norlh Fork of lhe Plalte. When 1 presented myself In the coininaiider ol ttie post, he did not recognize iny gaiinl form and seared visage. Suffering, both of body and mind had sn siamped rny feaiures, tliat 1 looked like some escaped maniac, and the uneasy appearance of my sunken eye made old I'rienus look upon mo wilh suspi¬ cion—they thought I vvas crazed. Wlien 1 told my story and showed the wounds upon my hands inflieled by the rabid wolf, ami re¬ lated the death of my comrades, tliey shook their heads with doubt, and [ could hear it whispered among lhem that some dreadlul affray had occurred between n.s, resulting in lheir death. Oihers suggested that llie sava¬ ges had slaiu my companions, and lhat Ihro' suffering, alone in the wilderness, I had be¬ come insane. All lliese doubts worked upon my troubled mind unlil reason did indeed tot¬ ter upon its throne. A few days after my ar¬ rival at the Norlh Fork post, an express rider arrived, who had passed a night in lhe camp of the American trapping party, onr compan¬ ion, Worthington had joined, and he not only had iieard our encounter vviili the mad woll related, but lhe fact of his hayiiiS the malady dreadfully confirmed in the dealb of Worth¬ ington, who perished in lheir ramp under all the certain symptoms of hydrophobia. My slory being thus confirmed and painful suspi¬ cions removed, I fell a change in Ihe lone of my mind: fears which had harbored there began to diminish in intensity, and no aymp¬ tom of the much dreaded nialady appearing, hope grew strong wiihin me. This produced a corresponding improvement in iiealth, until gradnally the marks of my dreadful march disappeared from botii form and feature.
1 have often since endeavored lo assign a canse for my escspe, and have as frequenily beon led to attribute il to my free u.se of li¬ qnor and salt, al our meeting with the noilh- weslein trappers—combined, Ihey nullified lhe poison. Fflecn years pa.ssed since llie adventure, and witha thanUfnl heart I chron¬ icle the fact that no vesiige of ils effecis re¬ mains, e.xcept the vivid lecolleelicn of onr night encounter with ihc Mud Wolf oi lhe Prairies!
proved, from your ovvm public authorized docij- inehts—from scripture, &c.,'that what yon call " the Pieilgc of the Order," is '¦ ilii ouih—a vow." Here we are nl issue. Nowvvlini proof have you nddiiced—what documents have you referred lo, in defence of your siale, tedious, re¬ pealed, and unfounded assertions, thai lhe pledge lif the Order is nut " an oath—a sncred vow '/" Nota .single document of lhe: Order have you 'lared to refer io,^not One standard author on ethics—„pi ooe passage of the bible ; nor will you evenicu us how many vovvs, or what words of your differem vows are ' soleihnly recorded' in the books of tbe Order. 1. Iu proof that yonr Pledge is an oath, and a Iteatkeiiisli. oath, I have aiiduced the "Journal of lUe Grand Fountain Headof the Order," declaring thai ihe candidate on iniiiatioit, " promises veos ms hunok as a uiim and a Son of Temperance" not lo dlvul°-c tbe private proceedings of the assooiation. n.^[ have proved from the Divine Word, Mat. 5. Z:t., &c., and from the correct explanation giveii uf those pa.ssages by Henry untl Fuller, that what you call a pledge—a simple promise, itr ii '* pro¬ fanation of God's name''—is un implied appeal to lhe Almighty—is mi oath. 3. I have proved that yonr leadiirs and approved champions—the imposers of tbo Pledge, call it an oatb. (I refer the render to my two preceding letters.). 4. It is common for your members to speak of tlicir (vow
lo lhe Onler. H. 1 },avt, pruved from lii^allien nulliors. ill tl the) pledge ofthe Order, which you call a 'simple promise," was the most solemn oath amongsl tho ancieni Romans—" upon  their honor."    0. On the testiinony of your ovvn  members,  I have proved that ibis oalh—this "sacredvow" is ac¬ companied, like   the heathen oalh, -with a  liba¬ tion.    7.  As connecled with the oath, and the eeremony  of initiation, the   Egyptian  mode of confirming the oalh, by joining linnd in hand and passing round lbe mystic ring, is. said to be prac- tiseil.    S. Accordiug to the anitnntti iittpoitenlLS —lbc inlcnlion of the imfioser of the oath, inu.sl vonr vow lo the Order bc intcrpreled. The Jour¬ nal of your " Supreme   Povver"—lbe Lectures of ynur leaders, he., show what is tbeir view of "your s.\CKEli vow" vvhich iheyhave "suleiniily recorded."    'J. The   fact that the candidale on enhn-iug the Secret Hall is requireil to slant! be- tiiru " thc Worlhy Patriarch," and repeat after llim " the sacred vow,"  might teach- you  what you ought to have known, that even if the name of Gotfis not  expressed in "the   Pledge," bill yonr own honor and word substituted; still, in tbe ileinand of a faithful promise and vovv lolhe Or.U-r, ibere is  an  itiiplied appeal to  tlte Jlfust llit^h.    Thus, an   inlelligenl writer on tbe oalb observes-. — when an individnal is ealled to 'give lesiimony, and declines to take an  oalb in lbe usual form,bul lakes itin any otbcr,lie is aa com¬ plelely bound as if it bad been lukcn in the usual nuidc.    Or if to a wiiness declining lo   swear al ull, the   proper oilicer sfionid simply say—" Do y.jii acknowledge your obligations to give testi- inony in this caso, and do you solemnly   promise lo declare in regard thereto the truth, the whole initli, and nolbing but the truth t" nnd the wit¬ ness  shonld   answer   iinirmalivcly,  be is   then pla.rcd nntler oath.    Or even if be shonld refuse 1.1 [.fuinise niKlcr uny form, anil lbe olficer should say—" By virtue  of the   anihoriiy cntrusled lo Ibis court, I, us ils oilicer, require yon lo tcll, in regard 10   the   cnsc   now   pending,   lhe   whole trnlh"—the witness is Ihereby piuced under lbc sunclioiis of the oalb.     The solemn demand of lbe Irnlb, niudo in any furtn, by a duly auihor¬ izcd oflicei- of governinenl, is, lo ull   inienls und purposes, att-  oath.    The  nume   of God, if  not
ll, is nnderslood iu every formal oflicial
When vve agairi staried my companion ask¬ ed mc for the pistol in my bell, and Ihe knife in my shealh, vvhich  he argued vvould be a fair division of the weapons, and I had no good reason for.iefusing him, other Ihan my wake¬ ful fears, but I put him off wilh tin e_\cuse lhat I wished lo placn them in proper order before 1 resigned lhem.   He smiled and we journey¬ ed on.    After observing liis countenance for some time, I began lo be reassured—it looked calm and undisturbed, and hia step displayed a firmness and  decision  vvhich  1  believed could only belong lo heallTi iii body and mind. While Ihns growiug in hope and confidence, and when on  the very evo of yielding up a weapon lo him, a wolf howled   inour imme¬ diate neigbborliood, and I could tee him shud¬ der, the inu.acles of his face contraol, and his eye assume an  unuaual  luslre,  while a low groan broke from his heaving cheat. I hugged iheweapons in my possession wilh increased eagerness, and cimig to liiem willt a lenacity fonnded upon absolute fear,.forI conjectured, and rightly conjectured, lliat lhe seeds of- Ihe drc.ad malady vvhich canied ofl'our half-breed companion were making ihemselves manifest in Verbanceur.    In crossing a small branch vvhich emptied  into Ihe Laramie,   I   again Waiched his feaiures, and all the symptoms of hjiliophobia burst fortii in a paro.xysm, un¬ mistakable ill its charaoter.     He instantly lushed upon me, when wilh the heavy barrel of ray riiie 1 feiled him senseless—my fears had made me a Hercules in Etrengtb-Trand then leaping upon his senseless body 1 bonnd ilim with a lariat rope so lightly lhat in vain he struggled for freedom.    I sat down besido him with my, leeth clenched, and listened un¬ moved lo his ravings and prayers for death— he, iike Alexander, besought me fo despatch him—bnt finding that his supplications did not move me, he broke into horrid imprecations and threats, in which he swore that he avould kill me—lhat he would tear ms wilb his teeth, and, bound as he was, he rolled his body to- watde me. I held him down to the earth, and
LETTER EllOM^MJl. EASTON.
S.\IYI[N.\, June 22, 1S17. llcv. Dr. Dr TT7it/—Dear Sir:—I promiseii at lhe close of my last leuer, if your next comiiiu- iiicalion contained any gros:} mis-statcmi.-nts, ttiat I wonld briefly notice thom even if, as nsnatj personal abuse should be subslituted fur argu¬ ment. Yon, sir, who have so liberally expeiided your money in the erection of Secrei H:ills—the purchase of red, white, or blue Regalia,—"gold, silver or .-scarlet tassels —trnncheons—bauners— sprar.tj" &c., t'o enable you to * drink clear cold .water ont of ordinary glass tumblers,' will know how to excuse the outlay of a littie money in this way: And allow me lo remind you, that ii is unwise to sufTer yourself to become .s'o excited. Your last cominnnicatiuns, breathing such a spir¬ it of what in the language of Dr. Chalmer.-* would be called '' blackguardism," if not the result of the inspirations of the " Beer" ov opium of tho Order, are yet, obvion.sly, the billingsgate pro¬ ceeding from the intnxicaliou of anger, and whieh, like that of .rum, only leads you to ex¬ pose yourself, and injure a cau.se .¦iiinieionily had without your bungling. Vonr a.<.^ertions re.spcct- ing the oath— thc B. B.—lho odes of the Order, &c., in direct coutradiction of the deelarationsof your Masters, and your published duciinient.-^ ly¬ ing before the pnljlie ; tmd then charging me wilh statiiig what 1 "knew lo be untriio—with bearing false trttne.'iS against the Order," when I only quoted the hiugnngeof lhe authorized ilu rnnicntSj   nntl   p   "
Ifl   piilihc
priiitvil Lrr/nif.s iff t/m leaders ofllie Onler, is so very unbeeoiniiig, that I "might, peihaps, very properly leave you and your artitdes to shovf the- character of iho canse yoa advocate, and exjioso the baseness of yuur rpiibbling; as the drunken Helots were exhibiled to the youth of Sparta lo fill thom with disgust against iniemperance. I shall therefore be brief with the different items of your preseni letter; ihough I ccmfess I liave, as you say, been lengthy in my previous r.onmmnicalion^, lieeuuse, from the posiiion in which ynu cominued to place nio as thp as.sailant, it was necessary for me to stale al large the objections !o the Order, and then sweep away your absurd and iTrelovant replies. But your assumption of ibis position, all could see from the firsl, was a weak petiito principii —a heffging ths qufstinn., when, to say nothing of your Order's assauU ou the. Church—J"""!' ^^pledged .trcrer.j/'^ was prima farie evidence that the proof should come froin yon, to demon¬ strate,'that either: religion, morals, or lemper¬ ance needed the aid, of sueh secjeey.
I. You fairly give up the Sixteen F.ntnders of your Order, and denonnoc ihem, for having ta¬ ken, as Freemasons and Odd Fellows, a profane aud blasphemou.s oaih:—ns guilty of "daring impielyj" while yuu st-ek to j.la.-e yourselt ou a lofty"peilestali from whence '-'the bons may overlook their Sires, and eal! on the pubhc to be¬ hold, how much bctier, nitd huher you are, tha\i lho profane Freeraaaous. Sir, as .a "Son" you should not bo.migrateful, afld your regalia shonld hot lead you to forget your origin, if the apron is raised from the waist tu the-shoulders. And 1 do not ihink it quite fair lo irermit you lo rise on the ruin of your founders, especially wlien they only do openly, what you do in a mincctl aod covert manner for the pnri>ose of deceiving the unthinking. There is more honesiy, at least, in the Orders of Odd Fellowship and Freemasonry, if no more religion, than in yonrs. You seek to mystify the public, and misrepresent my lan¬ guage, by saying that I try to prove a'simple promise and an oath, the same thing. Now let the reader remember, that the point at issue ^, the character of the oath of the Order. You say it i» a simple piomlse.    I  asserted  aud have
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demand of testimony—whether the party asserts sdineihnii: to be or ti> have been—or pri.)misctli or engiigeih to do something hereafter. When a man consents to testify before a lawfnl tribunal, no maiter in what ./brw his consent is cxpros.'jed, he ipso fario ]>I:iees himself in lhe jjosition ofone miiler uuth : and .vo i^ held in. the vien' uf Gnd and .'iuctelf/. The truth of ihisi)0.siiion is recog¬ nized iu all our laws against perjury, in which a violation of truth, by a witness under affirinu- tiun, is held to be perjury, as fully as if the ualh bad been adinini.slcred in due form.''
U. Yiiu dare to say, in the face of such ex-1 tracts as [ have given from your uwn authuri::pd standards, tiiat I " knew" there was no appeal by lhe candidate entering the Order, lo his hon¬ or, lli.s word, &c., and no oalh ! Sir, I pity the man whose elaslie conscience nan permit him to make snoh assertions. How did you Icuoia that J knew this? Do you also—a sub-ChnpIain, pre- lenil, like your Grand "Worthy Pairiarcli, to be invested wilh the allribulos of the Almighty ? How, T repeat, did you know that I knew this, when by r|niiiaiions from your own books, I proved that I knew thc very reverse. How wa.* I to know—how am I to know, that what your Order has recorded ns a fact, was a fiction : — that yonr leader;: « wrre hruring fah*- vntnci.i aguin.it thuir hrother^^' by saying that " your sa¬ cred vow'was solemnly recorded V Your mys¬ tic Ij. .B., you well know, I have never seen, as none uf lhe uninitiated can cver see it; and the only dncnments of the Order to whieh I had nc- oo-is, I have fairly quoteil; while you, wilhont i»ivincr a sln°'le ini.>of, or prodncing a single do¬ oument in opposition, yol virtually say—T/..nnc that uonr Irudcrs irrre a^sertiuif a lie nnil at- teniptiitg to hlarkeii the charade r.'i of others, ly the. .sai'.rificr of truth ! .' Your iguorauce appears In be combined with a malignity (too often the inhabitant of a weak mind,) so deep and bitter, that you are obviously an object only of commis¬ seration.
HI. Yuur heathenish oalh, as I liave shown, is far more unscriptural than the aflirmatiou ; imt according lo your doctrine, the affirmation is not an oath at all, bnt a simple promise ; and all those eminent ethical writers who mainlain iliat the alhrmer dues really swear, and appeal to the Most High, " are guilty of bearing false witness againsi lheir neighbor !" Tlius you say, wlion I assert "lliat an appeal to God, or to someihing in the room of God, direct or implied, is essential to an oath," and then " in the same paragraph assert lhat an aflirmatiou in which there is no such appeal implied, or intended, and whieh has been constructed with the express in¬ tention to exclude such an api>eal, is also an oath," that my langnage is a " direct und palpa¬ ble eonlradiclion !"—or, yuu are excusitbly lame in jurisprudence for a Doctor.
Allow me to currect a misiake very common with yon in saying that I assert, when it is Dr. D. lhat asserts the aflirmatiou couiaiixs no im¬ plied appeal. I said the very reverse. And here, as I suspected, is where your error in the mailer lies—your gruss and inexcusable ignorance of the vory naiure of an oalh. Why, sir, tliat the aflirmer really swears,—that ia, that he does im pliedly and really appeal to God the Judge, is there a lawyer iu the State, entitled to the nauie of a Jurist, who would.not be ashamed of such ignorance ? But for a leacher of biblo morality to deny there is such an implied appeal, and to .charge his neighbor with bearing fal.ie nn'tues.'i aguin.it uthers, because he asserts lhat an allir- ination is impliedly an oalh —that the aflirmer really swears, is proof of a disordered stale of mind,—a pluiu dingnosis that you are the " vic¬ tim of raging madness, 7(of against the S. of T., bnt against ethics, theology, aud common sense : and these menial and moral distemper.-* are apt lo prove far more dangerous and iiK-urable, than the " ¦Root-Becr-Phobia of my Consholu>eken friends and allies."
The following exirart from " Junkin on the Oath" mav benefii some members of your Or¬ der, an.l for th^ni I <piote it :-" Those who im¬ agine tliat fhev do not .sweur, when tliey make solemn nffir'ninlinn, are ulterhjnii^tulen. If they are competent v/iinesses, i. e., if they beheve m a Ged, and a fulure state of rewards and pun¬ ishments, they are considered, by the authority diat tenders the anirmalion, as answering under atl the solemn sanctions impUed in such a belief; and, as we shall -'^ee elsewhere, the oath or aifir- niaiion is lo be taken in the sense in which il is understood by the conrt. The affirmer as really swcar.s as the formal juror. The only difference ;.-•, thai he refuses lo acknowledge God as the Omniscient Witness of his truthfulness, as the Snpreiiic Magistrate to whoili, and for whom, he is bound to speak truth; and us the ultimate Judge to whom he mnst answer. He refuses to uiter]X)3o the name of God, and make apjioal to hill), in order to.confirm the confidence olthe court and of the parties in his testimony; haugh¬ tily arrogating to himself such a churacter, as is a sufficient guarantee ihereof. He refuses to cast himself on God's help—be refuses to swear by Gor/—but swears by hinL^rlf—hy his own character—by his " own head," although he " cannot make one hair white or black." Indeed we ean see little difference beiween this^kuul o swearing by one's own n^ord or character, ana swearing by lhe " Fortune of Crvsar.' Aud we have a singular illustration of the manner in which, someiimes, extremes meet, m the laot that non-jurors, who baae their scruples ui)on our Lord's prohibition, (Math- 5, 31-/,) are real¬ ly betrayed into a direct, though umntentional violation of that command, in its true import.— But does the affirmer, by refusing to interpose the nameof God, really avoid the oath ? By no means.    He must  annihilate  the  very ele¬
ments of the social fabric, or, by refusing to tes¬ tify altogether, becoine an-outlaw, before be can avoid it.    Docs he   gain anything then, by at- lem|itmg to set aside this ordinance of God't Far Irom It : for whilst he realL;/  .swears, and is as firmly bound by the one form as by the other, he incurs the guilt of diMhonoring his Maker, by de¬ clining llis aulhority in  civil inaiters.    Such re¬ fuse the oath and,.take the aflirmation with the avowed or implied idea that tlieir naked word is good enough—that, as ^e/7rZe77ic;i, an appeal to their own ho7ior, as their Law and Juilge, ;s as good as an appeal to God,    The omission of the name  of God, and of other  terms pointing to him as final Judge, however criminal such omis¬ sion may bc on the part  of governmeni, or the       '   , person requesting it, does not exclude the O-mni- cient—" the .faithful and true   Wititess,*'  nor render the person testifying less  accountable to him."
IV". Yqu venture again to refer to the " De¬ claration of Independence."   I have said lhat I do not approve of.the  form of that appeal, but have clearly shown that the object forwhichyou refer to that Declaration, y'lZ : to prove that your pledge is not an appeal to the Most High, is an¬ other instance  of your gross stupidity, and con¬ demns "yourself.    Kven the " Sons" would smile at your failure, but  for anger  at the slabs you continue   to  give   the order.    And now, "when forced to confess that there  is an appeal to the Almighty in   that Instrunvent, you   strive to es¬ cape from your ridiculous position by  exposing your grammatical   ignorance.    You  assert that the signers of the  Declaration of Independence make no appeal .to   God in  the last  part of the sentcnce,5^"^ X*^" attempt to sustain Ihis asser¬ tion,  by separating one part of the   paragraph from anoiher, and lhe chief part, designed to il¬ lustrate and explain thc whole.    Such philologi¬ cal ignorance, or sueh  wilful' iierversion of lan¬ guage, is hardly excusable even in a D. D. Yoii place  in large capitals the announcement that they " pledge to each other their lives, ^cc," ob¬ viously ignorant of thc fact known to every bible reader, that men's sweari.ng or engaging to one another, in  order   to secure the   performance of what is promised, is often called an oath—a vow. (Gen. 26, 28, 31.    I Sam. 30, 15, &c.>    But let the  reader examine   again and candidly weigli the languhge of the Declaration, and observe the connection   of   the  whole   paragraph :—*' We, therefore,   the represnitatives   of the U.  S. of America, in general Congress assembled, appeal¬ ing to the Snpreme Jndge of the World, for tlie rectitude of our intentions, do, in the 7}ame and by thr. authority of thc guod pcojile ofthe  Colo~ nies, solemnly publish   and  declare,  that these united Colonies are, and of right ought to be free and independent Slates, &c.    And for the sup¬ port of thin declaration, wilh a firm reliance ou the proteetion of Divine Providence,7fC m-ittual- ly pledge   to each othcr onr lives, our fortunes, and onr sacred honor."    Let the reader observe, that the last  clause of tlie paragraph is  closely connected with, and   not to be separatetl from, the preceding appeal, and is obviously to be in¬ terpreted in accordance wilh il, by the enjoining word '¦^ And ;'"—signifying,  as  Websler  would hnve told yon, "that a word or   part of a si.-ii- tence is lo be added to what precedes."    They " appeal to the Supreme Judge of the world fnr the rectitnile of their inlf utions''^ in thns engag¬ ing to stand by each'other even to the death, as really,  and trnly, as   when they declare, in  the first part of the paragraph, lhat  the "C^olonies are and ought to hc free."    And their hinguagt* proves lhat they 7nert«( thus to appeal.    It was their obvious design thus lo call on the Supremo Judge to witness, that with  rectitude of mind, and honesty of intention, they engaged to stand by each other;—as the merest tyro in philology could tell at  a glance from   the construction   of the sentence. And yet you say, that here, "they make no appeal to God, and had no intention to nppeal to Him** (!)    You appear to be acquaim¬ ed with the intentions of the dead as well as the living, and in  the face of the plainest language thcy could use, and the most common principles of construction, deny, what the siguers df tho Declaration  plainly say :—as  you deny hi   the face of yonr own Maaters, tliat your pledge is an i oalh,  and assert, that when  they  say it is an " oath—a  sacred   vow"—they mean   a   simple promise .' and  when  yonr Supreme Power de¬ clares tliat the canilidate solemnly promises upon his honor, his word, Ac, still, he neither appeals to his honor, his word, nor anything else ! ! And to oap the climax, you insist, that a person read¬ ing  these  Journals   and   Lectures  knoma they tncau the very reverse of what liiey assert; and fur -not knowing  that  the   Order never meaus what it says, Txre gnilty of bearing false u'ilnc:i.i againt their neighbor.'  Ah, sir, it is obvious yuti have  nol yet proeurod a cupy of Watt's Logic, and very obvious   too, that our Colleges sliould examine  candidates   for the  title of D. D., at least on the first prineiples of grammar and the¬ ology, before committing the rash act of invest¬ ing wilh the Doctorate.  I noticeti your referent;e to the Declaration however, merely to show that, like your other references, it was self-condemn¬ ing.    You had said, " associate with the pledge an appeal to Goil and it becomes an oath"—and you had also compared your pledge lo the Decla¬ ration of Independence, and as lhat Declaratii->n is not merely an implied but also an express ap¬ peal lo the Ahuighty, it  follows, from your own confession, lhat what you call the pledge of the Order, is an oalh.    Tlie reader will observe, that yoit never even attempt to answer ihe arguments drawn from the Saviour's language—" Let your commnnication be yea, yea j nay, nay, &c. (Mat. a, 34-7,) nor call in question  the application and correctness of the quotations from Henry, Fuller and the auihor of " The Guilty Tongue :"—ijoi; dare   not   deny   yonr   libiition^your   Egyptian dance or your joining hand  in hand, as Paley says in his remarks ou oaths, the Greek and Ro¬ mans did, when iu privaie contracts they swore to the performance ; yea, you  give  no proof at all:—noihing but a bare assertion, and that made to the very teeth of your own Maslers,—your ap¬ proved dncnments—the opinions of the most em¬ inent ethical writers and jurists—the  command of the Saviour, Mal. 5, 37, and the repeated de¬ clarations of his holy word.   *
V. On the infidel lendency of the Order,—iti pxchision of religion from its Halls—jis omission of the very nnme of the Snpreme Being hi its Constitutions and Laws, save in one of its Odos to nickname tlic High and Holy onc ; its silly pa¬ rade so inconsistent with the spirit of the gosp.^l —its clashing with the discipline of the churcli— the infidel and blaspheuious assertions inils au¬ thorized docmnonts, and for which yon are re¬ sponsible, "that the Order elevates llie soul— makes the heart pure, <Src."—its defence of a moraiity at war with bible morality, you have nol even ionched. It makes shorter letters, and is much easier to make assertions, and bUndly swear to obey books you iiPVCr saw, than speak to the jioint, and prove your assefjions, or reason in a logical manner. Accordingly on liiis jwini also, the only thing that looks like argumfUt in your article, is, your reference {rich as usual) to die "School Directors of your District;" and you very gravely add—" I might not think it ap¬ propriate or judicious, to consume their time with a discussiou on the jmiiorlant doctrine of justification *c." Now can you realty not see that such comparisoifs are too childish and dis¬ honest for vien to ma)ce, as they are too irrele¬ vant to need a serious rofutation. Do the 'School Direciors of your Districtf* swear you before you enter the school house, that you wilt nol In, or near it, spoak on the subject of religion ; and is " your sacred r-oir" to consent to Ihe infidel de¬ mand, *' solemnly recorded" in tbe Township Books,—lhe libation drunk, and do you and the Direetors fi.ni3h with an F.gyplian dance ? Sir, you know ihat your infidel Order shuts out YOUR MASTER from its Hulls, and declares thru neither""in ils Halls or ante-chamber, shall His religion find a place ; nnd you sir, have subscri- ¦ bed and sworn to comply with that infidel law in entering the Order. " 2^0 religious snbject shall be introdnced or entertained wiihin lbe Hall or ante-chambers of the Division, .either before opening, during the deliberations or after the closing of the business of the Divisiou." (Con¬ trast this law with thc hypocritical parade iu presentations of the bihle !) Again I ask then, what business has a preacher of the gospel in such a secret Or<!cr, when there is no room for his Master there ; when his religion is excluded by law, and every member required to vow tn have nothing to do with it while engaged in the Order's service ? And yet, your Order pietenti-. _its design is to spread morality among men ! Ai you are tired of scripture, quotations, allow mi¬ to refer you to another sentiment in " Washing¬ ton's farewell Addrress.'^ After slating that "religion and morality are the groat pillars of human happiness," and rejecting ihe " suppoa;- tion lhat morality can be maintained wiihout rc- ligio7tf" he adds :—** reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national niorahti' can prevail in exclusion of religious principle."— Your Order excludes religion, and yet, in the teeth of what Washington says, " reason and experience," and I may add the bible teaches, boasts, that  its morality " prevails" ao   exten-
[CONCLUSIO.N   ON   FOURTH  PACE.]