84 



^\)t itirmc r'g iHontJilij fatsitor. 



Price of Flour in New York, on the first Weduesday of earU Month, for the last 24 Years 



T! i^ 



2 



B 



7.124 7.00 7.12i 

 ai2i 0.25 G.50 



5.25 5.25 5.12i 

 5.25 5.874 4.624 



5.50 5.75 5.124 



5.C0 4.75 4.624 



8.124 7.25 G.25 



4.G24 4.75 4.874 



G.75 C.874 G.OO 



5.624 5.124 5.374 



5.50 5.75 5.62 



5.124 4.874 4.75 



5.50 a634 5 '5 



7.374 7.50 6.75 



11.25 10.75 9.00 



6.00 8.25 7.50 



8.93S 9.00 8.50 7.75 



6374 5.75 5.624 5.124 



4.874 4.75 4.93i 4.874 



6.435 6.124 6.25 5.874 



4.374 4.75 5.624 5.00 



4.8 li 4.931 4.933 4.624 



4.8 U 4.81i 4.75 4.624 



5.624 5.50 5.43i 4.68| 



6.874 7.124 7.(18i 7.25 

 Average price of Klour for U years, 53.943 per barrel 



July, IStG, ii'i.l24. 



1823.. 

 1824. . 

 1825.. 

 1826. . 

 1827.. 

 1828. . 

 1829.. 

 1830.. 

 1831.. 

 1832.. 

 1833.. 

 1834.. 

 1835.. 

 1836.. 

 1837.. 

 1838.. 

 1839.. 

 1840.. 

 1841.. 

 1842.. 

 1843.. 

 1844.. 

 1845.. 

 1846. . 

 1847. 



6.624 

 6.25 

 555 

 5.25 

 5.124 

 5.25 

 8.374 

 5.124 

 5.75 

 6.374 

 &00 

 5.50 

 5.124 

 7 25 

 10.124 IJ.OO 

 8.75 8.25 

 8.874 

 5.874 

 4.933 

 5.874 

 4.56i 

 4.624 

 4.083 

 5.75 

 5.50 



6.874 



6.00 



5.374 



5.124 



6.00 



5.124 



8.50 



4.75 



6.124 



6.50 



5.75 



5.374 



555 



7.50 



7.00 



6.25 



5.124 



4.874 



4.75 



4.564 



6.75 



4.874 



5.50 



5.624 



5.75 



4.81i 



6.124 



7.124 



9.50 



7.75 



6.874 



4.75 



5.00 



6.124 



5.124 



4.624 



4.50 



4.433 



8.374 



"< 



7.25 



5.874 



5.25 



4.75 



4.50 



4.624 



5.874 



4.874 



5.874 



5.75 



5.874 



4.874 



6.624 



7.124 



9.75 



7.25 



6.3 li 



4.624 



5.374 



5.93i 



5.624 



4.3 li 



4.624 



4.124 





7.124 

 5.50 

 5.00 

 4.50 



6.874 

 5.624 



6.50 



5.25 



5.124 5.25 



4.624 4.874 

 4.624 4.683 4.75 

 5.00 5.75 6.25 

 5.374 5.50 5.75 

 5.00 5.624 5.374 

 5.124 5.25 5.624 

 6.00 5.874 5.874 

 5.624 5.75 5.50 

 5.00 5.25 5.25 

 6.50 5.75 5.933 

 7.00 7.75 8.50 

 9.50 9.624 8.25 

 7.124 7.624 8.624 

 6.50 6.75 6.124 

 5.00 5.00 4.874 

 5.874 6.50 6.25 

 5.81 4 933 4.50 

 5.00 4.81 i 5-5tJi 

 4.314 -4.183 4.374 

 4.31 4.75 4.874 

 4.183 4.183 5.624 



7.00 



5.624 



5.124 



5.124 



5.25 



7.624 



5.3H 



5.25 



5.75 



6.00 



5.683 



5.124 



6.25 



9.50 



8.50 



8.00 



6.874 



5.00 



6.00 



4.25 



4.75 



4.874 



6.25 



6.00 



6.024 

 5.774 

 5.124 

 5.124 

 5.624 

 7.874 

 5.374 

 5.183 

 6.00 

 (i.374 

 5.624 

 4.874 

 7.50 

 10.00 

 9.00 

 8.624 

 6.25 

 4.624 

 6.374 

 4.874 

 4.624 

 4.683 

 6.874 

 5.3 l.i 



i r-'f 

 ' a " 



6.923 



5.923 



5.183 



5.00 



.5.14 



5.534 



6.5.34 



5.023 



5.884 



5.874 



5.704 



5.07 



5.994 



7.793 



9.663 



8.02 



7.394 



5.213 



5.473 



5.C84 



4 984 



4.603 



4.99 



5.07 



Highest price March, 1337, SI1.23. Lowest price 



From;Headley's " Washington and his Generals." 



Baron Steuben. 

 Steuben was ecfenliic in his liabits, frank, liliinl 

 and irritable, and always expressed his senti- 

 ments without regard to friend or foe. Having 

 spent his life in camp, he was frequently rough 

 in hismanners, and when excited, rash as a storm. 

 Still, the soldiers and officers loved hiiu, for a 

 "eneroiis act would always repay a sudden wrong. 

 Under that stern military exterior, bent as kind 

 a heart as ever dwelt in a human boso.n. He 

 was prodigal to a fanir, and an ap|.eal to his sym- 

 pathies he never coidd resist— consequently, as 

 objects of chaiity were plentiful enough during 

 our Revolution, he was never long lii possession 

 of money. Whenever he had any thing to eat 

 his table was crowded with officers, and often 

 with those of inferior rank. Once, in directing 

 some of the latter class to be invited, he said,, 

 "Poor fellows, they have field officers' stomachs, 

 without their pay or rations." On one occasion, 

 he sold part of his camp equipage in order to 

 give n dinner to some French officers, at whose 

 table he had often been a guest. "1 can stand it 

 no longer," said he in his blunt manner, "1 will 

 give one grand dinner to our allies, shoidd I eat 

 soup with a wooden spoon forever after." After 

 the surrender of YorUtown, he sold his horse to 

 be able to give a dinner to the British officers. 

 Every major-general in the army had extended 

 his courtesy but him, and distressed at ihe re- 

 flection this neglect cast upon his hospilaliiy, he 

 parted with his horse in order to raise the funds 

 he needed. His watch had been pawned before 

 under some generous impulse, and as he could 

 not borrow the money, this was his last resort. 

 When the army was on the point of leaving Vir- 

 ginia, he went to Major North, who was lying 

 sick with a fever, and told him that he was to be 

 left behind ; " but," said he, " the instant you are 

 able, leave this unheahhy-|dace ; 1 have left my 

 giilkey for you, and here (handing him a piece ol 

 gold) is half of all 1 possess in the world. (Ju.l 

 bless you, 1 can say no more." Of ihc sirirlest 

 integrity and honor himself, he scorned mean- 

 ness and treachery in others, and hence never 

 could hear Arnold inentii)ned wiiliout an cxpres 

 sion of iiidignalion. Once in reviewing a regi- 

 ment, he heard the name of Benedict .^rnolll 

 called in the muster roll. He im^nedialely onler- 

 ed the private bearing this detested cognomen to 

 advance out of the line. Ho was a fine looking 

 fellow — every inch a soldier— and the Baron, af- 

 ter surveying him a moiueiil, said, " Change your 

 name, brother soldier ; you arc too respectalilc to 

 bear the name of a traitor." " What name shall 

 I lake. General .''"ini|uired the young man. "Take 

 any other ; mine is at your service." He accept- 

 ed it, and immediately had his name enrolled 

 Frederick William Steuben. The Baron settled 

 upon him in return a pension of live dollars a 

 month, and aflerwaids gave him a tract of land. 



Willi all this strict notion of tliscipliue and 

 subordinalion, he was prompt to redres.s the 

 slightest wrong done lo the meanest soldier. — 

 Once at a review near Morristowii, he ordered a 

 Lieutenant Gibbons to he ane.sted on the spot lor 

 a supposed error, and sent to the rear. The lat- 

 ter was, however, innocent, and he felt the dis- 

 grace keenly. The Colonel of the regiment saw 

 that he had'heen wronged, and wailing till the 

 Uaron's wrath had subsided, advanced and told 

 him ihat the young officer was not in fault, and 

 was suffering keenly under the tnonificatioii in- 

 flicted upon him. "Ask Lieutenant Gibbons to 

 come to the from. Colonel," said the veteran. — 

 He was brought forward, when Steuben said aloud 

 before the whole regiment, " Sir, the fault which 

 was made by throwing the line into co'dusiun, 

 might h.-ive been fatal in the presence of any ene- 

 my. 1 arrested you as ils supposed author; hut 

 1 have reason to believe 1 was mislaken, and that 

 you were blameless. 1 ask your pardon ; return 

 to your command. 1 would not deal unjustly by 

 any, much less by one whose character as an of- 

 ficer is so respectable." All this passed wilh the 

 Baron's hat off, the rain pouring on his venera- 

 ble bead. 



His acts of kindness were innumerable. In 

 passing from New York to Virginia, on one oc- 

 casion, he heard a constant wailing in the fore 

 part ol" the vessel, and on inquiring the cause, 

 and being told that a little negro boy, who had 

 hetn puriMiasetl by a southern gentleman, was 

 crying for his parents, he immediately purchased 

 him and carried him back lo his home. Soon af- 

 ter the little fellow, while out a fishing, fell into 

 the water and was drowned. When Ihe liaron 

 heard of it he evinced the deepest emotion, say- 

 ing, " 1 have been the cause of his dealh ; if he 

 had followed his own destinv all would have been 

 well." 



The disbanding of the army at Newburgh was 

 a distressing scene — officers and men were re- 

 (|uirp(l to lay down llieir arms, ami poor, unpaid 

 and desiitule to reiurn lo their homes. Slt;uben, 

 ihoiigh he had no home nor relalive in the coun- 

 try and was a stranger in nn impoverished land, 

 still endeavored to cheer up the desponding offi- 

 cers, and throw a liille sunshine on iheir gloom. 

 Seeinj; Colonel Cochran standing alone, the pic- 

 lure of sorrow, he hied lo coml'orl him, by say- 

 ing that belter limes would come. " F'or inyselfi" 

 replied the bravo officer, '• I can stand it. But 

 my w ife and ilaughters are in the garret of that 

 wrelcheil tavern, and I have nowhere to carry 

 ihem, nor even money to remove them." " Come, 

 come," .said the Baron, w hose kind nalure this re- 

 ply had completely overcome, " 1 will pay my re- 

 spects to Mrs. (/ochran and your daughlers, if 

 you please;" and away he slrode to the tavern. 

 He was not absent long, but he loft happy licarls 

 in that lonely garret. He had emptied the entire 

 contents of ids purse on ihe table, and ihen has- 



lened away lo escape the tears and blessings that 

 wcri> rained upon him. As he walked towards 

 ihe wharf, became upon a poor negro soldier, 

 whose woundswere^et unhealed, bitterly lament- 

 ing that he had not the means with which to gel 

 to New York. Touched with his sufferings, the 

 Baron's hand immediately sought his pockei, but 

 the last cent bail been left in the garrel ; so turn- 

 ing lo un officer lie borrowed a dollar, and hand- 

 ing it to the negro, hailed a sloop and put himnn 

 board. As the poor fellow hobbled on deck, he 

 lurncil, and with tears streaming down his face, 

 exclaimed, "Goil Almighty bless you, master Bar- 

 on !" The old veteran brushed a tear fiom his 

 eye, and turned away. Thus did the stern war- 

 rior's heart, which had moved without flinching 

 through the storm of so many battles, melt like 

 a child's at the call of sympathy. 



Steuben was a firm believer in the Chrislian 

 religion, and a constant attendant on divine wor- 

 ship, when in the city. He sleeps well beneath 

 Ihe soil of the land he helped to free ; and though 

 the nation refuses to erect a monument lo his 

 worth, when we cease to remember his deeds, 

 we shall be unworthy the heritage he left us. 



Gipsies. 



Among gipsies, models of beauty are some- 

 times lo be found ; the liesh air that they breathe, 

 their daily exercise and freedom liom restraint, 

 all conspire to give them a pecnliarily.a wildness 

 and witchery unseen among other classes. I once 

 came suddenly upon a young gipsy, in the act of 

 pulling a hedge ; as she hastily turned towards 

 me, scared by my appearance, she seemed lo me 

 the most perfectly formed of all created beings 

 mine eyes had ever gazed on— her reil (letlicoat, 

 slays, a'nd loose handkerchief, were almost her 

 only clolhiiiL', hut her sunny brow, and ruddy 

 cheek heighl:ened by a blush, her raven hair, and 

 exquisitely formed foot and ancle, arm, neck anil 

 shoulders, were beyond descripiion beautiful. 



I remendier hearing a strange account of three 

 L'ipsies, which 1 will relate. It -happened lliat n 

 gentleman had an unusual abundance of fine 

 grapes in his hot-house ; and his gardener boast- 

 ed far and near, that such grapes were not lo be 

 h.-id in the country. This iufoi mation soon reach- 

 ed the ears of a numerous gang of gipsies, who 

 hail encamped on li.e skirt of ihe common hard 

 by. The gipsies had boiled their evening i)0t, 

 suspended from three sticks— they had supped, 

 played on the fiddle and retired lo rest, some un- 

 ilerlhe tent, some stretched at full length under 

 an old oak tree, and some lay round the cart by 

 the siile of their donkeys. The old mother gip- 

 sey was very ill, indeed it was ihoiight she was 

 at the point of death; hut that did not restrain 

 ihe rest from following out their reckless pnrsuils 

 and light-hearted mirth. For some time the old 

 woman could eat nothing that the gang could 

 bring her; at last she cried out for grapes. At 

 dead of night, when ihe stars were glittering in 

 the sky, and all was silent around, a stout yoiiiig 

 flllowgenily stole from the encampment, passing 

 down the dark lane, and tearing a stake liom the 

 hedge, proceeded on his way to the gentleman's 

 garden. The wall was high, but he scon clam- 

 hcreil over i;, and ill another minute or two he 

 had found his way to the glass iloor of the hot- 

 house. 



No sooner had the young gipsey placed his 

 slake under the door ami wrenched it open, than 

 a wire fiistened to it set a large bell at the top of 

 the hot-house ringing. The gipsey turned round 

 hastily lo make his escape, but wasconfroiilfd by 

 two men, who at that moment arrived at the spot. 

 Accustome<l lo il.ingcr, he lost not his selfpos- 

 scssion, but rcsoliilcly attacked his eneniie!--. A 

 blow from one of them dashed him back against 

 the glass door, but, in a moment, he again grap- 

 pled wilh them both, anil all three struggled Ibr 

 Iheir lives. The ringing bdl and jingling glass, 

 soon hnnight half u dozen servants lo the scene 

 of conlenlion, when the light of a lantern discov- 

 to Iheni three men throttling each other on ihe 

 ground. The servants dragged iheiii asunder, 

 ami led Ihem away, one by one, to differcnl pla- 

 ces of security for'lhe night. What was ihe sur- 

 prise of the culprits in ihc morning to find, when 

 placed together, with their liamls tied liehind 

 them, that they all belonged lo the same gang.— 

 The old .'iither gipsey had resolved, cost what It 

 would, to get u few bunches of ihe best grapes ill 

 the foiintry, for hit; dying wife, and his two sons, 



