“'For some time past we regret, sincerely regret, as Christian men, that a rumor has, by degrees, been creeping into circulation, which we trust is, like most rumors of the kind, without foundation. The reputation of a very pious professional gentleman, well known for his zeal and activity in the religious world, is said to be involved in it, but, we trust, untruly. The gentleman in question, has, we know, many enemies; and we would fain hope, that this is merely some evil device fabricated by the adversaries of piety and religion. The circumstances alluded to are briefly these: Susanna, says the evil tongue of rumor, was a religious young person, residing in the character of children's maid in the family. She was of decided piety, and never known to be absent from morning and evening worship; it seems, besides, that she is young, comely, and very agreeable, indeed, to the mere, secular eye her symmetry had been remarkable, but indeed female graces are seldom long lived; she is not now, it seems, in the respectable gentleman's family alluded to, and her friends are anxious to see her, but cannot. So the idle story goes, but we hesitate not to say that it originates in the vindictive malice of some concealed enemy, who envies the gentleman in question his pure and unsullied reputation. We would not ourselves advert to it at all, but that we hope it may meet his eye, and prompt him to take the earliest measures to contradict and refute it, as we are certain he will and can do.'
“This was all exceedingly kind, and certainly so very charitable that the Equivocal could not, with any claim to Christian principles, suffer itself to be outdone in that blessed spirit of brotherly love and forgiveness, which, it trusted, always characterized its pages.
“'We are delighted,' it said, 'at the mild and benevolent tone in which, under the common misconception, a little anecdote, simple and harmless in itself, was uttered. Indeed, we smiled—but we trust the smile was that of a Christian—on hearing our respected and respectable contemporary doling out the mistake of a child, with such an air of solemn interest in the reputation of a gentleman whose name and character are beyond the reach of either calumny or envy. The harmless misconception on which, by a chance expression, the silly rumor was founded, is known to all the friends of the gentleman in question. He himself, however, being one of those deep-feeling Christians, who are not insensible to the means which often resorted to, for wise purposes, in order to try us and prove our faith, is far from looking on the mistake—as, in the weakness of their own strength, many would as a thing to be despised and contemned. No; he receives it as a warning, it may be for him to be more preciously alive to his privileges, and to take care when he stands lest he might fall. Altogether, therefore, he receives this thing as an evidence that he is cared for, and that it is his duty to look upon it as an awakening of his, perhaps, too worldly and forgetful spirit, to higher and better duties; and if so, then will it prove a blessing unto him, and will not have been given in vain. We would not, therefore, be outdone even in charity by our good friend of the True Blue; and we remember that when about six months ago, he was said to have been found in a state scarcely compatible with sobriety, in the channel of Castle Cumber main street, opposite the office door of the Equivocal, on his way home from an Orange lodge, we not only aided him, as was our duty, but we placed the circumstance in its proper light—a mere giddiness in the head, accompanied by a total prostration of physical strength, to both of which even the most temperate, and sober, are occasionally liable. The defect of speech, accompanied by a strong tendency to lethargy, we accounted for at the time, by a transient cessation or paralysis of the tongue, and a congestion of blood on the brain, all of which frequently attack persons of the soberest habits. Others might have said it was intoxication, or drunkenness, and so might his character have been injured; but when his incapacity to stand was placed upon its proper footing, the matter was made perfectly clear, and there was, consequently, no doubt about it. So easy is it to distort a circumstance, that is harmless and indifferent in itself, into a grievous fault, especially where there is not Christian charity to throw a cloak over it.'
“'Such is a specimen of two paragraphs—one from each paper; and considering that the subject was a delicate one, and involving; the character of a professor, we think it was as delicately handled on both sides as possible. I am told it is to be publicly alluded to to-morrow in the congregation of which the subject of it, a Mr. Solomon M'Slime, an attorney, is an elder—a circumstance which plainly accounts for the heading of the paragraph in the True Blue.
“There were, however, about a week or ten days ago, a couple of paragraphs in the True Blue—which, by the way, is Mr. M'Clutchy's favorite paper—of a very painful description. There is a highly respectable man here, named M'Loughlin—and you will please to observe, my dear Spinageberd, that this M'Loughlin is respected and well spoken of by every class and party; remember that, I say. This man is a partner with a young fellow named Harman, who is also very popular with parties. Harman, it seems, was present at some scene up in the mountains, where M'Clutchy's blood-hounds, as they are called, from their ferocity when on duty, had gone to take a man suspected for murder. At all events, one of the blood-hounds in the straggle—for they were all armed, as they usually are—lost his life by the discharge—said to be accidental, but sworn to be otherwise, before Mr. Magistrate M'Clutchy—of a loaded carbine. He was to have been tried at the assizes which have just terminated; but his trial has been postponed until the next assizes, it is said for want of sufficient evidence. Be this as it may, it seems that M'Loughlin's beautiful daughter was soon to have been married to her father's young partner, now in prison. The unfortunate girl, however, manifested the frailty of her sex: for while her former lover was led to suppose that he possessed all the fulness of her affection, she was literally carrying on a private and guilty intrigue with one of the worst looking scoundrels that ever disgraced humanity—I mean Phil, as he is called, only son to Valentine M'Clutchy—who, by the way, goes among the people under the sobriquet of Val the Vulture. I need not say what the effects of this young woman's dishonor have produced upon her family. Young M'Clutchy was seen by several to go into her own apartment, and was actually found striving to conceal himself there by his father's blood-hounds who had received information that M'Loughlin had fire-arms in his house. The consequence is, that the girl's reputation is gone for ever. 'Tis true the verdict against her is not unanimous. There is a woman, named Poll Doolin, mentioned, who bears a most unrelenting enmity against M'Loughlin and his family, for having transported one of her sons. She is said to have been the go-between on this occasion, and that the whole thing is a cowardly and diabolical plot between this Phil—whom the girl, it seems, refused to marry before—and herself. I don't know how this may be; but the damning fact of this ugly scoundrel having been seen to go into her room, with her own consent, and being found there, attempting to conceal himself, by his father's cavalry, overweighs, in my opinion, anything that can be said in her favor. As it is, the family are to be pitied, and she herself, it seems, is confined to her bed with either nervous or brain fever, I don't know which—but the disclosure of the intrigue has had such an effect upon her mind, that it is scarcely thought she will recover it. Every one who knew her is astonished at it; and what adds to the distress of her and her family is, that Harman, whose cousin was an eye-witness to the fact of her receiving Phil into her chamber, has written both to her and them, and that henceforth he renounces her for ever.
“There have also been strong rumors touching the insolvency of the firm of M'Loughlin and Harman, and, it is to be feared, that this untoward exposure will injure them even in a worldly point of view. In the True Blue there are two paragraphs of the following stamp—paragraphs that certainly deserve to get the ears of those who either wrote or published them cropped off their heads.
“Unprecedented Feat of Gallantry and Courage!
“Public rumor has already exonerated us from the delicacy which would otherwise have restrained our pen from alluding to a feat of gallantry and courage performed by a young gentleman who does not live a hundred miles from Constitution Cottage. It seems that a laison once subsisted between him and a young lady of great personal attractions, and, at that time, supposed (erroneously) to be entitled to a handsome dowry, considering that the fair creature worships at the Mallet Office, and bestows, in the exercise of her usual devotion, some soft blows upon her fair, but not insensible bosom. Our readers will understand us. The young gentleman in question, however, hearing that the lady had been recently betrothed to a partner of her father's, prompted by that spirit of gallant mischief or dare-devilism for which he is so remarkable, did, under very dangerous circumstances, actually renew his intimacy, and had several stolen, and, consequently, sweet meetings with the charming creature. This, however, reached his father's ears, who, on proper information, despatched a troop of his own cavalry to bring the young gentleman home—and so accurate was the intelligence received, that, on reaching her father's house, they went directly to the young lady's chamber, from which they led out the object of their search, after several vain but resolute attempts to exclude them from his bower of love. This unfortunate discovery has occasioned a great deal of embarrassment in the family, and broken up the lady's intended marriage with her father's partner. But what strikes us, is the daring courage of the hero who thus gallantly risked life and limb, rather than that the lady of his love should pine in vain. Except Leander's, of old, we know of no such feat of love and gallantry in these degenerate days.'
“This other is equally malignant and vindictive
“'Messrs. Harman and M'Loughlin.