Editor Journal: In the autumn of 1828, or previous, Rev. Dyer Bull occupied the first front chamber in the old Roger Sherman House, near South College, New Haven. Mr. Bull then had with him as private pupil, a short black-eyed young man, whom he introduced to the writer as Mr. Benjamin. Benjamin soon went out, and the writer asked Mr. Bull if that man was a member of college? “No,” said he; “he has been, but has left the college. He steals so that it seems almost impossible to. break him of it — steals from his classmates, and any thing that he happens to fancy, that he can put his hands upon. Whether this same young man has not since risen to offices of high financial trust, has not been a senator in Congress, and has riot directly or indirectly been cognizant of the late wholesale mint robbery at New Orleans, may be well a subject of inquiry.” --Veritas. He is the same man. He left college under a discovery of theft.--[Ed. Journal.]“there was one of the class of 1829 whose name cannot be found on the list of graduates, or any annual catalogue after 1827. He was and still is a handsome little fellow, looking very small in his class, who, with a few exceptions, were of tull manly growth. This youth hailed from a great State of ‘the chivalrous sunny South,’ bright-eyed, dark complexion, and ‘ardent as a southern sun could make him.’ In the early part of 1828 there was a mysterious trouble in that class. Watches, breastpins, seals, pencil-cases, penknives, two-bladed knives, four-bladed knives, &c., &c., &c., and lastly, sundry sums of money, ‘lying around loose’ in students' rooms, disappeared unaccountably. The losers looked gloomy at each other, and suspiciously at others. Something must be done, and they finally constituted themselves a volunteer ‘detective force,’ set their trap, baited with thirty-five dollars in good bank-notes, and soon caught the thief. He confessed. On opening his trunk, in his presence, they found it nearly full of missing valuables — jewelry, pocket cutlery and horologery enough to stock a Chatham-street store. He begged pitifully not to be exposed; they looked piteously into his handsome young face, and relented at the thought of blasting his opening life. He had been a universal favorite, the pet of his class; so they agreed not to inform either the city magistrates or the Faculty of the University, but ordered him to ‘clear out’ at once and forever. He went instantly to good President Day, obtained a certificate of honorable dismission, and vanished. That little thief is now a senator in Congress, advocating and justifying and threatening the robbery of forts and the stealing of the military cutlery, and hardware generally, of the Federal Government, without any more color or shadow of pretext than he had for his like operations on his fellow-students just thirty-three years ago. A third of a century has not made, and can never make, any change in such an originally born rascal. Had these early filchings been a mere thoughtless, boyish escapade, a momentary yielding to temptation while in great want, they would not deserve mention now; but they were systematized theft — long-continued, accumulated and hoarded pilferings, from trustful bosom friends. Had the fellow not at length reproduced his private morality in public life, I would have allowed the secret of his early crimes to remain in the hearts of the few who then knew and now remember it.” --N. Y. Independent.
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