Richmond Indiana Palladium

FANNY FORRESTER.-We have received a copy of a little production, with the above title, published at Philadelphia; by Thomas Linn. It is the first number of a series of tales which the author proposes to lay before the public, under the title of "Agrarian Stories," intended to illustrate the evils of Agrarianism and Infidelity. The tale before us is simple and touching. The following is a sample of his style of reasoning:
"Jerry had sent out for a peck of oysters and a quart of gin. He had hooked as many oysters as would hold together upon his fork, and was holding forth with his tumbler of gin in his left hand: 'I'll tell ye what', said he, 'a'most every thing's monopoly now-a-days; every thing's got incorporated; they'll incorporate a man and his wife up t' Albany afore long, you see if they don't. One man says a piece of God's earth, that belongs to us all in common, as every body knows, is his'n. You ask him how so, and he goes and fetches out a bit of something that's made out of old rags or sheepskin--there, says he, are ye satisfied now? as he pokes it under his nose. If a body wants to raise a few vegetables on this here bit o' land, and just ventures to dig it up. out comes the old sheepskin like a pocket pistol. If a man goes on to it only to take a few bushels of apples--out comes the sheepskin. What's all this but a cursed monopoly? Here's a stronger case by all odds: my child or my wife wants a little milk for supper; there goes a cow. God made her. He didn't make her for one man more than for another. So I takes my tin pail and goes out to milk her, but I scarcely gets fairly to work with my pail between my knees, afore out runs a fellow, full of fire and fury, and cries, 'you, sir, you're milking my cow.' Says I, what in the name o' nature makes her your cow?' He runs into his house and fetches a little bit o' paper, and holds it afore my eyes, and while I'm a looking at his bit o' paper, the cow walks off; and so I loses my milk; and that's another monopoly. The worst on't is, the courts want a real reforming and they'll get it yet; these courts and a pack o' rascally Judges, bribed every one o' em, upholds this ridiculous sheepskin and bit o paper system; so you see how the rich grinds the poor to death. That's what makes bread stuff go up. We shall come at last to absolute starvation,' said he; and, as he closed his harangue, Jerry pitched his fork full of fine oysters into his mouth, and washed them down with half a tumbler of Holland.
This is an imperfect sample of Jerry Picket's style of domestic eloquence. When mounted upon a table or a tub, before a public assembly, without any restrain upon his extremities, his eloquence was said to be of a far more exciting character.
"When they retired to their chamber, Fanny expressed her dislike to these strange doctrines, and her disgust at the profane and violent manner in which they had been advanced. 'That's owing' said her husband, 'to your having been bro't up in such a puritanical manner; when you see a little more of the world you'll understand these things better.' Fanny told him, even then, that she did not believe he would do as well in New York as if he had remained in Philadelphia, where he could be sure of the good-will of such friends. 'A couple of old monopolizing rascals,' said he; 'they'll have not a drop more of the sweat of my brow.' 'Why, John,' said she, shocked by his ingratitude,' you used to say they were the best friends you had, and were singing their praises from morning to night.' 'Yes, to be sure,' he replied, 'when I knew no better, but I'm not the poor spirited fool that I used to be. The property that those old fellows have got, if equitably divided, would give us a pretty living, and I could throw my trowel over the wall, and walk about at my leisure.' Fanny said no more, but thought she saw the distant outlines of misery, however undefined."