Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, 1872-12-27

lies at forty, and fronts us with the
beauty of womanhood; she makes a
last stand at sixty, with the beauty of
age. She falls like Caesar, wrapping
her mantle around her-"buried in
woollen! 'twould a saint provoke. %
Death listens pitifully to the longings
of lifetime, and the wrinkled face
smiles with something of the pretti-
ness of eighteen.-Ballou's Magazine.
"reminiscences of the Author of " Home,
Sweet Home"
It was in the witer of 1923, when
[ had rooms at the tower of the New
York University, facing Washington
Square, that [ frequently met John
Howard Payne, the author of "Home,
Sweet Home" He had lodging on or
near Fifth avenue, further out, and in
the morning, on his way down town,
he would almost invariably call be-
tween ten and eleven A. NJ, talk awhile,
and then together we moved on slowly
toward the center of the city; he stop
ping to see every curiosity in the win
doWs as we passed, as highly elated as
a grown boy from the country would
be at every new surprise, though at
that time he had been traveller over
most of the world, he had seen every
variety of life, and was in the meridian
of his manhood.
His temper and uniform outward
mood was as smooth and gentle as a
summers lake at eve, not even, like it,
disturbed by the gentle zephyrs.
We had not met since 1841, when
was one of the managers Of the Ameri-
can Institute. [ chanced to be intro
duced to him quite accidentally at the
old City Hotel, very handsome brick
building of that day, standing on the
right-hand side of Broadway going
down, just this side of Trinity Church,
at the head of Wall street, kept by
Jennings & Willard, the latter of fa-
nous memory, long since dead, be-
lieve. Were we to pass by his hotel,
Willard would probablx6hake hands
and exclaim: "Oh, yes! I recolect you
-recollect you'very we'll. You were
here with Payne and your erratic bro
ther. You took a ju1ep about twelve
O'Clock, and Payne wanted his made
of plain brandy, very weak. I had
just bought a half-ton of the best loaf
sugar to be found in the Market
None of your readers, who go back to
those days, thirty years ago, who recol-
lect the proprietors, famous the world
over, of the old City Hotel, but will
pardon this depression.
In the spring Of '43, as I comm enc
ed to say, John Howard Payne gave
me an account Of his adventure in
Georgia among the whites, bordering
on their settlements alongside the
Choctaw and Cherokee Indians.
Payne, like many of our Iterati of
small letters, had strong sympathy for
the red mans rights and home, and,
without thought of exciting anger, ex-
pressed his kindly feelings to any and
every one.
It was at the time when the people
of Georgia, of the Indian country, had
suffered by massacres and night fires
and murder, till they could endure the
outrages no longer, and President
Jackson was favoring the removal of
the tribes to thieves of the Mississippi.
Travelling alone as Payne was, with
out much baggage, so simple and out
spoken in his manner, it was not long
before he excited suspicion as an In
dian spy; and when they reached the
next stopping-place it was whispered
about that he was an enemy, in SYM
pathy with the Indians who had so
often committed such terrible outrages
upon the white population as to exas-
perate every one to bitter enmity to
them and all their friends.
Not dreaming of the cause, they
took Payne, tied his hands behind
him-the most girlish man in the
world-and marched him off between
two strong, fully armed men.
He saw his situation, and began to
tremble and beg and protest and ex-
plain who he was, but to no effect
On they marched for perhaps half-a-
mile through thickets and fields, pass
ing toward an unusually-lighted and
log cabin. 1t
was quite late in the night, still the
seemed to be moving, and as
the party approached nearer they heard
singing; finally Payne could distinct
ly recognize the music of "Home,
Sweet Home"
He protested and tried to break loose
and get to the house. They held him
back. One of the guard went to the
house, in compassion for the prisoner,
to get some water, for he had tainted.
Meeting an officer from the house
which proved to be the headquarters
of some of the United States soldiers
not long there-he said they had
brought one of the spies of the Indi-
ans, 'who claims to have written some
song about Home which | never
heard tell on.''
The officers curiosity was excited,
who hearing the song at the same time,
went Immediately with the guard to see