Pioneer

              THE PIONEER.
Vrmted and Published b^ A. ^^. aud ll. K. VirosU, Soul\\.>\7st corner ofthe .Market S(\uare.
VOL.. III.
3IARIETTA, PA. FRIDAY, JANUARY 30, 1829.
NO. 38.
iP©isi5^vr,
FOB THE PIONEIR.
3IORXIxVG.
>, p1nr>mv nip-i", r.-'i'-ing yielJs her 9Way i l)fC'f)-biiail( d t\vili},'ht opes ber portal pates, And morn, caparison'd in beauty like a bride, Conies dancing on. EnameU'd o'er witti gold, VirmiUion. purple—shades of every die, l> .r bprcadliig o'er the world empyreal, |r Jc   lucent clouds, out from tbe g-iowin^
C.'lSt,
Attendants on the openinjc dtwn.
And now Vprlsinp in ',i^ ni"jc>-'> of lipbt, L K.e to a vi.s« l,all(tMn of solid fipc Out-perrinp fnm the darksome splieres un¬ known, The   son, brigut monarch of  the new-bcrn
day.
Soars forth, and sheds his genial beams upon TIic ^oToIated earth.    Richlv the gruves, A   ^ 'eeniinp gardens, and luxuriant fields, li-pund   their   odours    on   the    lijjhtsoire b-ec/.e; hlithely   chimps  'mongst the  locust
b'   lj;hb
lie wren, and the young sporting ro- um. —
Ail nature shines exulting witb the day, .'Viid leavci the murky shades of night aback. FI-A'CitiL.
FOR THE  PIO.VKIiH.
A rvLiEOf' ruiir.i.
I always loved the Irolic ot a child,
0 ten have_l sat at the door, when the
v.ild and bleak, wind ruslied by, in the
depth of winter, and watched my little
mece and nephew, as they ji^ainbolled
on the slippery declivity in the street
jU Delow our house; and often nave 1
lined in their Liiiidisn diversion, and
-. often amused lliem by my awkward
'attempts at * y;racelul sliding,' aa 1 was
pleased to call it.
The littlo Cecily, then only in her seventh vear, shone in all the swecl ii-'ss of tiie opening rose. Sue was. .. model of youthful beauty—Mi.t'l and extremely"delicate in iocv,; ••: ..;iets ot vcUow hair aim' ^L yporoiciu..^ to a j^olden hu". HoWLd in i;racetul, liio' un- st.; '.ied nchiu'.-.-<>ver her finely wrought ard exqui^r; ly projioiUoin-d neck; und ottea overlie win;;, m its prolusion, her liti'f faco. obscured the soft cxpiession of her radieut eyes. And tnen those rvps—they almo>t rivalled the cerulean iiess of a summer sky. tier bruth- »\ as three years youn;^er; and too' i'r'.:^\\ WA- remarkably active, and art- lr>><lv mischievous, she was n > matcii I'.ir Sam, either in activity or mi^cliiet. He. ion, like his sister, was very beau- tilnl. but ho wanted lliat coherent nui- v.'p/.'c vvhicii so povvertuUy characteri¬ sed her; and, young as he was, by his bkiiltul colloquy and cajolements, plain¬ ly showed tlie boy.
I know not why it was that I became 80 warmly attached to these children, but I always telt the strongest iiuer- ifst in tlieir welfare; and, afier ttie merry days of childhood had passed away in sportive glee, I still kept a watclifuleye over them, and observed K'ir joyful entrance into the amuse- nients and occupations of the busy V'orld, with heartfelt gratitude.
Sam, tlie^ay and ro^^uish child, grew 'ip into b'>vhood the delitllit of his fel¬ low schoolmates. Was tiiere any play propuuiided.'.e was sure h> be at the head vd it ; .iiid no otic knew better tli.m Sa'-a P.-udletoii, how to catch a bill, or now to put into a proper train any little pLit :i.;nlns' the master. All acknowlcii-.d i.i, abilitie-i, and all lov¬ ed him—iie was tiie ^jeiieral favorite of the sclioul a,id ol tiie town. But those halcyon d.ty^ of boyhood have passed away, and imagination deline¬ ates them only as the recollection of a fitful dream. lie is nu.v exercisin"- h.s talents in repairini; the small and bhattered fortune left him by hi-, fal^l- f T; and, but a few days ago, 1 s;iw him T.ike out a letter from tlie pnst offici, a'l.'.re^sed to 'Samuel Feadletun, Esq.
Merchant, '
iiul Cecil v—as she advanced iu age, oUo advanced in beauty and ac- complishineiits. Lovelier now than in the incocent sweetness of ctuidhood, i-.he stivid alt!;ie in the little village, voluptuous ill her beauty as a full nlown rose. Rich in virtue and virgin i-inocence ; pure in heart as an untaint- ¦-d Iih . and happy in her peculiar turn
of disposition, she received at once the admiration and esteem of both sexes. She was an ardent admirer of the beau¬ ties ot nature, and took long walks on bright summer mornings, into theii^reen fields, revelling in extaciea of delight on the simple beauty of our own sweet vales, and the geutle rippling of our shining streamlets; and often, aa she viewed the little hillock before our house, has she reminded me of the pastimes of her childhood, and how she used to delight to have me rolling on the frozen ground, with her and her litlle brother. She played sweetly, and, oh ! how charming was the accom- paniament of her own round voice! With all these attractions, so becoming in arehiipd te'iiale, no svonder that Ce¬ cily siiould have a world of suitors.— i.ic oad many—and she rejected many; but nor through pride, for pride had n^^ver been an uimate of tier innocent bos^.•m. Nursed and re-iired in the lap of virtue, she otrd never dreamed of lovin;i; auytliinii; but the beautiful effu¬ sions with woich a bounteous nature had overspread the earth; and tlio' ma¬ ny of the aspirants for her hand had been pdeasiug to the eye, she scorned to receive the homage of a heart, when it could not be remunerated But, .it last, Cecilia P-ndleton, like most young ladies, was trepanned in the meshes of liie wily Cupid. !Slie loved ardently; and the object of her at tacbmeiit was alto;:;ether superior, in natural and artificial accomplishments, to tbe wide range of moths that flit a- round the eyes of every pretty woman tjreorit;e Somers, youn^, bandsouie, and endov»ed with exalted qualities, ap¬ peared to have been made expressly for the Lively girl; for their sentiments, their tasies, their hearts, all beat in true accordance with each other—and iliey both loved with the most devoted affection. * * * *
VV^ell I'm so happy I I've just re¬ turned troin witnessing the marriage ceremony oi my dear liule Cecily with George So:ner.-> I Tliey were so cheer¬ ful, and llie irieiMN were all so gay, and supper was so ^ood, and the wine, and the cake—and every laiiig was so much
tu my likitjg, tl.a.t I tlun:i^ht 1 mtrst «Tt down aod write k!1 about it before I went io b>d. PKVERIL.
Jan. i:8, 1829.
The Providence Cadet relates a sto¬ ry of the cook oi a VVesl India captain, wlio had a las'.e no less tiiscriminatiiig than his master, and was not backward in gratiiying it. Being ordered to kill and cook, one chicken only, for the ca¬ bin, and two gizzards making their appearance, the captain inquired the meauiiig of it, ' Why, maisa,' says the cook, ' there is a kine of fowl have two giziard—wtien 1 go to market on siiure I buy um.'
Cooke, (he trageilian, said one mor iiing at reiiearsal, in Urury Lane, that he meant to ^o to tiie next masquerade, bui did uot know what new cliaiactet he sii'iuld assume. * New character," said Fawcet,   ' -suppose you   go sober."
Frmn    llic  ¦      li>^   ot'   L,0!.doil.
A G O O i> S T O R Y .
Tiie best thing related of Mr. Cur- ran vvas llie foliowin.:.judicioiis iiiaiioe- vre, by wliicli a sum was recovered from a sc.iuadrel, iii wtiose safe keep¬ ing it had been placed oy an unsuspec¬ ting countivmaii, who came lo Dublin for Ihe renewal of the lease of his farm. For this purpi.se iie had or-.ught with biin bank notes sor one liiiudred pounds which were to be paid as a fine.
Having taken up his quarters at an inn, he requested his landlord to take care of his money for him, as he wish¬ ed to go and look about the city and treat himself lo the theatre that eve¬ ning. Mine host readily undertook the precious charge: but wiien next morn¬ ing, tiie fanner had spruced iiimself up to attend the landluid's levee, what was his astonishment, on asking tor his monev, to hear the villainous landlord deny'any knowledge ot him, or his hundred  pounds.
' By the holy,' said he, you gave me no inuney, anil by the powers no mo¬ nev shall' vou have back.'
'.Sure and it*s not in arnest ye are, masthar.^' said l!ie countryman, turn¬ ing pale at the prospect of losing his treasure; then recovering hims-If. he continued with a sinih" e.Kpre-^sive of fear and doubt, ' Bad luck to your jokes at this present writing—...ake haste man. aud give me the notes, else ril he late, and 1 wont have ray lase signed at ai!.'
' I know nothing of you or your lase,' replied the laudlord.
' 0 murther 1' exclaimed the farmer, ' does my eye sight desaive me, to hear the swindling thief going for to deny that I gave him the money, and that too, unknownst to any one, for the en¬ tire safety ?'
' It's yourself that's the sv.indler, to come for to axe me for m^ney that I never seen,' retorted mine host, ' but Dublin's not the place for ye to come and play your tricks in; so take your¬ self off, ye robber, or by the holy ! Fll send for the police this blessed minute, and swear a highwav robbery against ye, and have ye put'into Newgate and hanged for that same.'
The poor countryman, tratisfixed with astonishment and horror, was for some time unable to reply, b'lt contin¬ ued to regard his plunderer vith a va¬ cant stare and open mouth. .\.t length he found words and exclaimed, ' the holy Jasus keep me from all mortal sin! Ounly he ir to the false tory robber '. B-ji I'll have justice of ye, ye inurder- ing tief of the world, if there's law or justice, or judge, or jury to be had in Dublin city.'
fLiving uttered this threat, I'e press¬ ed his hat violently down over his fore¬ head, and. clenching his hands in ago¬ ny, rushed into the street, tlo very picture of despair. After walking on for s'laie time, the poor fellow bethought liimsel! of making his coinplair,t to ono of t!ie .ludges at the Four Co;irts, the niasiuihcent structure of whic!i he had adinired during his peregrina'uia the tlay belore, and where he had learned that the sages of the law sat daily for the administration of justice.
Altho' his topographical knowledge of l!ie city vvas very slender, he soon recognized the famous spot, and boldly entered the hall, where he soon mixed with the throng of attorneys, clients, witnesses and barristers, that paraded up^nddown; but seeing no one who was likely either to give him sdviceor assistance, he was about ente ing one ot the courts, which was also greatly crowded; when an oflicer told liim in an authoritative voice to stand back. The former expostulated, but in vain, for the man in office learning that he lijid no buainesa with the cau&eduit »vas pending, peremptorily refused to let him pass. Seeing an unusual eager¬ ness and anxieiy, however, in the coun¬ tryman's countenance, he inquired the nature of his business; to which the latter replied,' I wish sur, to spake to the judge about a murdering robbery that	
' Pooh ! Pooh !' replied the oflicer, you must not come here about mur¬ ders and robberies; why don't you go lo the magistrate . "
The countryman responded with a deep sigh, ' sure it's myself that's a stranger m Dublin, and I don't know the ways of it, oh, what will I do this blessed'day ! 1 won't get my lase si;:n- ed at all; and 1 must nut show my face al Callagher without it. I'll be turn¬ ed out ot house and home' (here the poor fellow shed tears) ' and poor N',- rah, and tiie dear childer will be obli¬ ged to take bag and go out. The ho¬ ly vargin and tiie blessed saints give tliem their protection !' But clenching his hands,' it's no use bodhering about judges and magistrates:—I'll go hack this instant and tear the oraiiiie tier's heart out ot his body; it's no more nor he dcsarves; and if I'm hanged for the murder, sure it's better than to be rub¬ bed entirely.'
The officer's curiosity was excited by the violence of the poor man's emo¬ tion, and he enquired who it was that had robbed him.
The farmer replied 'him sure as keeps the Carman's Inn, down there in the place they calls Stoney Batter.'
Officer—' But there are several Car¬ man's Inns; what is his name.'
Farmer.'—< His name sure is Roon- ey; 1 don't know his christian name: but that's what's painted on the sign of the house.'
Officer—' What Nick Rooney, that keeps the K.iiig Wdliam o' Horseback ! by Jaker ! my good fellow you are fal¬ len  into  d d bad  hands.     Only
come across old Nick aod he'll play the devil wilh ye—Nick Rooney is the worst villain and the biggest black¬ guard in all Dublin city; and that's saying a great dale any how. What has he robbed vou of ?'
Farmer—' One hundred pounds; bad luck to the villain.'
Officer—- What! a hundred pounds! how did Nick rob you of that sum.'
Farmer—' I gave him the notes last ni.;iit to keep safe for me, an' when I axed him for them this morning, by the powers ! if he did'nt deny clean that ever I giv'd them to him—the false murderer that he is ?
Officer—* But had ye no witness to that same,'
Farmer—' Is it a witness that ye mane, musther.^ Sure the devil a wit¬ ness in life was there but myself and Rooney. I'd no notion of the blood thirsty spalpeen would have thricked me out of the notes, and so I gived them to him privately to prevent my self from being robbed by the Dublin thieves.'
Officer—' By the holy St. Proker ! there is'nt a bigger thief in all Ireland than Rooney, and ye may take your affidavit of that same: but I'm sorry ye haven't got no witness, because d'ye see ye'll not be able to prove tl^at ye gave the villain the money to keep.'
Farmer—' By the holy vargm ! I'll take my oath of it,'
Officer—' True, for you, my good friend—but that isn't enough to con¬ vict the robber. I'm afraid ye'll net be able to recover your money.'
Farmer—• Ochonel I and is it that you say ? what will I do ? what wili I do :-»
Officer—'By the powers ! a thought iijust come across me: counsellor Cur- ran IS the boy for your money; if iliere IS a inaa in Dublin can do it, the coun¬ sellor is the man. Be aisy with your¬ self now, and step across to Bill Mur phy's at the liaymnw and PitiUti.rk. ni come to ye when the courc rise^, and I'll take ye to tiie coonsellor witli- out anv more delay. He's as cunning as Old Nick, or even the Devil Iiimself; and I'll bet ye the worth of the notes but lie'll get them back for ye.'
Fiumcr—• Long lile to ye, inasthe.r! I'll do Ihat same: ami it's not for to spake ofthe reward I'll give ye.'
Officer—' Don't spako of u3 reward, mv good friend, I'm happy to serve ye; and I'll be still more so to see thai the thief Rooney is bnrnt alive for his rob beries. He once refused to trust me to a noggin o' whiskey vvhen I vvas out o' place, and many's the gallon 1 drank .1 id paid for on the nail at his house, n.^*'>re that same ; but by Jackers ! I'll be revenged now any how—tlie brute beast that he is ! So now step over to Murphy's, comfort yourself with a drop of the cratlior, and smoke your door- deen, and I'll De wiiij you tu  no time.'
'Jasus be wid you,- replied the coun¬ tryman, cheering up as he took his de¬ parture for the tavern to which he was directed. He had not sat here atjove an hour vvhen he was joined by the friendly doorkeeper, who, after tossing oft" a noggin potyeen, accompanied him to Curran's house in Ely place.
Mr. Curran heard the man's story, and saw instantly through the whole adair. He knew Rooney by report tn be a sly, artful scoundrel, and that success in recovering the money vvould depend on the utmost nicety of man¬ agement. He resolved therefore, to give liis instructions tu the countryman by piece-meal, afraid to trust him with too much at one time, in case of bung¬ ling; and being well aware of the con¬ tusion of ideas which any matter of importance invariably pniduccs iii the muddy brain uf an uneducated irish¬ man.
Having settled his tactics, he said 'vou say, my friend, that this Rooney denies the receipt ofthe bank notes ?'
Karmer—' I do, ye wur.«»hip, and he's a lal iP black-hearted traitor for the sajiie,'
• You have no witness?' continued Curran.
Farmer—  None,  my    Lord—the more's the pity.'
Currran—'Are you vvilling to be guided entirely by my advice r'
Farmer—' Yer honor may swear that entirely.
Curran—' You will take no step but as I direct you ?'
Farmer—' I'll trust myself and the entire thing to the direction of yer wurship's reverence; and I'll not do nor say nothing but what yer honour will tell me is right.'
Curran—' Very well. Now do you think it possible, by going back to— what part of the country do you come from ?'
Farmer 'My native  place,  when
I'm at home, my lord, is Callagher, in the country of Tipperaiy.'
Curran—' Very well; do you think it possible by g'oing there, that you could raise, bjnow, beg, or steal an¬ other hundred pounds, and be back here in a few days r'
Farmer—' 0, murdher,^—if it's a hundred pounds ot potatoes ye mane, i could do it aisily; but as to money, I've a notion its entire unpossible.'
Curran ' But cannot your relatives
assist you: you will require it only for a few days; and I give you my word
that you shall take it back to Tipper- ary ; as I hope you shall the hundred pounds, that you have Io3t.'
Farmer—Sure I've got an ould un¬ cle.
Curran—'Certainly: go then, with¬ out delay: say tu your uocle that one hundred pounds, for a few days, will make your fortune; and see that yoa do not mention your loss to a living soul, but come to me the instant yoa return. I'll take care that the farm shall remain open until y;)U come back.'
Farmer; * Long life to your honor'ii reverence; I'll do that same; and I'll be back in a jif^Ty, without any delay ia life.
The farmer, bouyed up by the pros¬ pect of regaining his lost treasure, de¬ parted in good spirits for the couniv ot Tipp«raiy; and played his part j^o we-1 as lo return in a few days with the neeitful.
Having waited on Mr. Curtnii, the latter sent immediately for the friend¬ ly door keeper, whom he instructed to accompany the countryman to Rooney'* in order to witness the deposit of tha second bundle of bank notes. He di¬ rected the farmer lo plead mistake aixl intoxication in regard to his former claim, and to apologize accordingly; also to say that he returned to the ( ountry, where he had found his moncr and that he was desirous of niakini; amends for his former suspicion of his honesty, by now depositing the motiev in his hands until the morrow; as ho was tired with his journey, and could not trau'^act his business with the land loi'i tliat evening. He likewise warn ed thetn both to be on their guard, tha^. Muouey miK'nt not suspect tlieir inti¬ macy or business; and for that purpose he advised the countryman to enter on the business before the door keepc" made his appearance which should bf*. exactly at tiie instant when the uotii should be counted out.
They set out according,and the far¬ mer obeyed his instructions to the lei - ter; the villain Rooney, no doubt an¬ ticipating a second booty. But seeing; the door keeper enter, the fanner took up his cue, and said, ' There's the hun - dred pound, every bap'orth of it: co'i.i'. it yourself, Mr. Uooney, and see it's all right. I'll take a bed with ye to¬ night, and in the morning I'll be wan¬ ting il again, to pay for my lase; ye'l! be sure not to fail to be given me uio money when I ax ye for it'
'Och! never fear Nick R-'!ney for that,' replied the innkeeper; ' tie e are the notes safe in my pocket-book; iitui I'll put the same under my bolster this. blessed night.'
The door keeper saw that now \v;.^ his titne to take a part in the colloquv accordingly, he exclaimed, 'Troth Mis- ter Nicolas Rooney, and it is net mv¬ self would be after trusting auch an ulii Bel/.ebub as you are with any nu)n:'v at all. Much better, sure, for the far¬ mer to lend me a hold of the flimsies; tor I'm an honest man ev'ry inch, and I'll keep them as safe for him as if tluiy were lodged in the bank of Ireland,'
' By the holy,' replied the farmer, 'but ye're a mighty dacent sort of a, brute bas'e now, to be after thinking that I would trust my money vvid ywx that I never be fore sat my eyes on.~.> And sure, Mr. Rnoney ought to gi-.o ye a great big bating for the dirty sus¬ picion upon his honor.'
' Get out of my house, you thief nf the world,' roared out the landlord to the officer, ' what d'ye mane by it su: r'
* Ay, bad manners t'ye,' rejoined thr, countryman,' what d'ye mane, sur. by- computing to Mr. Rooney that he ib a robber, and the likes of that ? but b.ir- ring yer ondacency, in«'t there ye^^eif there to the fore, ye spallpeen, lo b^;;:- witness that I giv'd hira the the rooney.=> Get out, ye blackguard I it's like e- nough ye're a swinler yerself, a:ul ye're trying at this moment to pick my pocket: but I knows the thricks ot Dublin, I can tell ye.'
The officer novv saw that it vvas '.is turn to make an apology; which he (i;d by swearing that what he had said v. as only a j«'ke, and ' no offence in life;' after which he called for a noggin - f whiskey, and took his departure. 1 lO countryman, likewise after a short :<:- freshment, bent his steps towards Kly Place, where he reported progress a Mr, Curran.
'Very well,' said the counseilir, ' now go back to the inn alone, and ti '1 Rooney thai vou have been inforiu.-d vour landlord" sails for England to¬ morrow morning, and that you want the money now; for, that the Oi.iy chance you have of gettiiig your U-a-^e rene
wedj is bv having it done this 've-
that you "shall have the hundred pounds (niug.'