Rhode Island American And Gazette

A Singular Dream.—A Congress has adjourned and the multitude at the capital dispersed, we shall probably hear of no more 'fights' until another year. As a post scriptum to the tragical affairs which took place a few months ago, I offer the following—novel, I admit, but destitute of that 'bloody reality' so disreputable to those engaged in perpetrating deeds of violence. Suffer me briefly to explain. The extract I am about to present is an actual copy of a letter from a young gentleman in the State of New York who, a few weeks since visited this city and, during his stay here, 'fell in love'—as he supposed—with a very 'beautiful little girl of seventeen summers.' Let her name for the sake of convenience be Amelia. As the perusal of this epistle has afforded many of his young friends a hearty laugh, I have been induced to present a transcript to the Editor of the American, by inserting which, if he finds nothing objectionable in it, he will gratify several of his readers. It certainly evinces considerable tact at dreaming.

C.

*** It is useless to say that she engrosses all my waking thoughts, and as soon as I am asleep, lo, she is before me:—We were all sitting in your parlour when a gentleman appeared and told us that Amelia had gone to Washington and had had an interview with the President,—that he had told her so many stories of the glory which Heard and Houston had acquired in chastising refractory members of Congress, that she panted for similar celebrity. Not content with a common representative, she was for going among the Senators, and the Hon. John Holmes was the person selected for her victim, who, as the General declared, needed a tremendous cudgelling for his tyrannical philippics against his administration. She went directly into the Senate and commenced an attack. With a great pair of tongs, she beat, and bruised, and battered the poor fellow so badly that he had to be carried home on a wheelbarrow. Complaint was made to the House of Representatives, and the Sergeant-at-Arms took her into custody.

So great was the excitement against her that no lawyers would appear at the bar in her defence. On hearing this information, a minister, a young Dr. and myself thought it expedient to go on for her defence. By some magical process peculiar to dreamers, our journey to the capitol was effected immediately. We found ourselves among the grave and reverend men of the nation, sitting with all the dignity of their stations taking measures preparatory to the trial. Amelia was brought forward, having on a very singular head dress with a pistol in her hand! She told the House she did not 'care a snap' for them, but that the three gentlemen sitting at the clerk's table would defend her. We were then called on by the speaker. The honest clergyman then ascended the platform and sung 'Yankee Doodle' in a very clear and impressive manner—the young Doctor made a long prayer—after which I preached from the text, 'Prove all things.' In the course of my sermon I took a survey of the history of the world from Adam to the present day, together with a dissertation on the natural history of spiders, and a topographical sketch of the Catskill and Canajoharie rail-road. It was however in vain—the House condemned her to have her throat cut and I was appointed to do it! The next morning at sunrise was the time fixed upon for the execution. It was a lovely morning and the execution took place on an eminence, at the foot of which stretched a sweet green valley formed by the eminence on the other side. The slope of the two hills were covered by a dense mass of human beings waiting to witness the spectacle. On my right stood the President and heads of department—on my left stood the clergyman and doctor and Speaker of the House. When the first rays of the sun shot up into the horizon, Amelia appeared on the opposite hill followed by a large number of nuns from the convent at Georgetown—they were chanting that slow and solemn anthem 'I know that my Redeemer liveth.' The mingled sounds of conversation from the multitude were hushed as the solemn harmony rolled through the valley. Never were my senses more wrapt even when in my waking moments, I have heard that self same strain from the first performers in the land. Even the birds hushed their carolling—and all nature seemed to respond to the solemnities of the scene. At the bottom of the valley the procession stopped and Amelia proceeded alone. Her dress was perfectly white, and her cheek was blanched with sorrow—but her eye was brighter than ever—it gleamed with a double portion of a fearless spirit. When she reached the top of the hill where I stood, she removed her handkerchief and I twisted my fingers in her long hair. The spectators were silent as the grave—it might have been mistaken for a city of statues had not every eye expressed the deep and fearful interest in the scene. I performed the awful duty, and the world of spirits received an accession to its numbers. I had been the executioner of her whom I so ardently loved! She had fallen a victim to her own folly in following the wicked example of Jacksonians! As I was about to exclaim surely this is a 'reign of terror'—a warm gush of blood in my