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THE CAMDEN WEEKLY JOURNAL. 1 VOLUME 14 CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA TUESDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 20, 1853. NUMBER 51. 1 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY THOMAS J. WARREN. TERMS. Two Dollars if paid in advance; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents if payment be delayed three months, and Three Dollars if not paid till the expiration of the year. ADVERTISEMENTS will bo inserted at the following rates: For one Square, (fourteen lines or less.) seventy-five cents for the first, and thirty-seven and a half cents for each subsequent insertion. Single insertions. ono dollar per square; semi-monthly, monthly and quarterly advertisements charged the same as for a single insertion. jyThe numberof insertions desired must be noted on the margin of all advertisements, or they will be published until ordered discontinued and charged accordingly. JUisrellflnrflns. "Hoinc." BT MARY IRVING. " A home in the heart!" slowly and quaintly articulated a bright eyed French youth, who had, in the progress of an evening call, taken up that touching song of Dempster's from the open piano. Turning to his companion and interpreter?for he was a stranger in our laud and a novice in our language?lie asked eagerly? What call you that word 'home' in Fran cais?" The question proved a puzzling one ; for, alas the poor French possess, neither in name nor in reality the counterpart of that sweet Saxon nionos} lable. His friend finally succeeded, by a series of circumlocuting French phrases, in conveying a shadow of the iJea to the young foreigner's mind. Ilis fine face which had been almost distorted with bewilderment, cleared up like a spring morning. ' Ah, 1 seer' he exclaimed, laying iiis nana emphatically upon his heart " Home, it is one good word! I shall it remember." One good word indeed. Whose soul does not acknowledge its charm. The pulse ol prince and of peasant bounds equally at its sound. But who can define the dear word ? I never, before the little incident above related, realized the difficulty of telling, in the words of any language, what home is. " It is the place w here people stay, my dear!" was the response I once heard rather impatiently given by a mother to an enquiring child leaning on her lap, who had been teasing her as to the whereabouts of a favourite playmate's home, and wished, as bright children generally do, to explore the subject throughout the labyrinth of its whys and its wherefores. "The place where people stay." It sounds plausibly, and it satisfied the child-questioner for the hour. But is it asynoiiim of Home ? Ask the orphan apprentice girl, sitting in her dreary corner, stitching sighs into the embroidered velvet of her mistress' wardrobe.? Ask the bed-ridden pauper in the poor-house. Ask the outcast, in the crumbling city garret. Are these homes ? Can a boarding-house, however quiet and comfortable in its arrangements, b-- a home ? It ic ? delicate Question to broa< h : but the voice of many hearts and much bitter experience, will bear uut the earnest answer?"No!'' Still limiting the word to a place of abiding, hallowed by association with kindred ones? are all homes that pass for such in the world's great eye ? We all know what and where a child's home is; it never plays the hypocrite. From the hour when its little feet began to make journeys from the maternal door, out among the flowers and thorns of life, the first threatening of danger, or token of unexpected pleasure, is sure to hurry the grieving or glad creature "home." Grown older, it will go farther and farther away?like a ripple on a disturbed wave?miles over green meadows and through nut bearing woods; but in the hour of fatigue or fear it is sure to bound back home. Tired of play, at sun-setting, the hoy thinks only of his clean-spread supper, his mother's goodnight kiss, his prayer, and then the soft, nice bed, with its patch-work counterpane of many colors. These, and like comforts, make home, to the butterfly-hearted child. Rut the time comes when these are not all of home to his heart. He goes farther away?to school, to college. Years pass, and when next that beloved hill and landscape rise on his horizon, he thinks not of home as a place only of refresh rnent and of rest. The sister's laugh of wild delight?the brother's glad hand'pressure? the mother's tearful greeting?the father's fer vent blessing?in brief, the sweet affections born and nurtured under that roof-tree, are what make "sweet home" to him now. Ah, well! these natural affections are happy and hallowed things; but they do not always make " home," after all. The heart will go abroad into the wilderness of humanity, to seek his other half, as soon as it is old enough ?too often, long before it is wise enough?for the perilous quest. How many of the search' .ers find a home in any heart ? How many liearth stones, encircled by family faces, are worthy to be called homes ? How many fashionable parlors, from which the " hearth-stone" of olden days has been razed, over whose soft carpets little feet tread lightly, and 011 whose pillowy lounges pale faces lean languidly in the /late morning, after the last night's party ? How many Western (and Eastern too) farm houses, where the wife wears herself away in toil disproportioned to her strength, and unsoothed by the sympathy of the hard-working but hale lord and master, who thinks " 'Tis no use making a fuss over women folks' complaints? they must bear their 4 end of the log' of life, to be sure; it always spoils them to pet them?" 1 L l ? The same negligent ariu seinsu pnuosopnv lias prevailed over the little yard surrounding the house, and over all pertaining to the external adornment of things in general. " The main chance must be minded '?wheat fields must be sown and reaped ; and what signifies keeping scythes, door-steps, gates, or any thing else inanimate, in its proper place ! " Home," is it ? 'Tis a place to eat and sleep in ; 'tis a place, as the wife knows, to drudge and weep in ; 'tis a place for children to whimper, dogs to bark, and careless workmen to lounge and frumble. But is it that sacred thing a home? orbid it, Peace and Love { Many a one who " marries for a home," as c; the phrase is, finds only an aching void. The & sick-hearted factor}' girl, tired with toiling at 01 the beck of the merciless wheel ; or the sensi- m tive school-mistress, worn with duties and cares 01 that torture her aching brain and lonely heart, ai may grasp the offer that promises a home, and ol find, too late, that it was but a marriage on the ai desert of life. " No healing spring nor health e: ful shade" is there! What can the poor vie- lo tim of such a delusion do ] for there is no re- in tracing the irrevocable step! Either sink into tv soulless adaptation to the being and abode of c< her choice?thus burying alive her noble na- r< ture?or await, in resignation, uncomplaining, sr save to God, the summons to that Home whose w " many mansions" of peace are prepared for d< all the weary ! c< The union of two loving hearts makes the ti shrine of home the " holy cf holies" within c< the domestic tabernacle. But even the truly ni wedded may be "away from home," or their chosen abode may lack that exquisite adupta ? . - < ?I tion to the circumstances ana enaracier or me inmates, which constitutes the perfection of Home. ' I never could call sucli a hotel-like palace 11 my home," said a friend, who had been inspect- a nig thp splendid residence of General R , er a nabob of a Western city. Splendor and ostentation are indeed a p"or exchange for corn- .rt fort and quiet. Yet abodes of rare luxury J" seem well fitted to some exotic-like beings. Passing a costly-pillared residence in the suburbs of H , environed by gardens and grounds fitted to charm a luxurious taste, a n< i . re companion said to me ? M I could never feel 'at home1 in a house like that; but it is just such a house, as I could fancy for our Lucy C ; do you not think so?" In truth, the whole scene seemed an nrcliitectural and horticultural embodiment, so to speak, of the princess-like yet dreamy being whose name was upon our lips. )[ Let the artisan have his home, the profes- ^ sional gentlemen, and the millionaire?each fitting to the comfort, well being, and me'-tal ^ characteristics of the dwellers. The length of ^ the purse need not shape the home? it can, of nrmn If I ill t OL'ort' cur^r, iiv<i|i iu.\unvo upvn ?v, vuv v?v.^ .v^. ^ dence, like every human face, has a character g and a story of its own. Willis says, the gate ^ to a man's premises should speak of its owner. ^ Mow much more, then, should the home? Let every energetic, original, enlightened spirit carve or work out its own ideal in the shape of a residence?modified, of course, by means and circumstances?and what a revolution in archi- " lecture would the world witness! 'c Some know, bitterly, how sad it is to give W up such a home, at the call of a seemingly ca ^ pricious destiny. Yet the lesson is too often y needed; for who is not prone to make idols of ^ blessings? Let no man for any earthly thing | fret the spirit into frenzy or melancholy.? Wealth is not necessary to make a home; and | even poverty, if energy and cheei fulness he its (| handmaids, need not, in this blessed country of oars, he long in fashioning a home that shall ... satisfy any honest, loving heart. . After all, happy though it may he, " this , world is not our home and perhaps the grand reason " hy Providence has permitted so few comparatively perfect homes to shine as load- ^ stars in the firmament of societv, is to turn ? ? w our thoughts to that " better home"?the only ?, ** - - Ik ? . l!_ W perieci one since rarauise was lurieueu. ^ 'I'lie old man looks to heaven wiili the firm ^ glance of faith, ami sighs for its holy rest, g Young hearts should |uok if}> to its eternal beau- ^ ty, not less often or less fervently, lint it need not be in weariness of earth, or in disgust with ! i sc the life (iod has given. Shall not all that is good here, and all that ought to he dear, be . given us again in that other, sinless life ? Let but our tastes, our affections, and our ambition be moulded on the model of eternal truth, anJ we cannot work too earnestly, we cannot ^ live too well. Looking through all that has ^ been created, to the Creator who has given, we ^ can beautify these homes of earth,?cherish these hearts thai our Father has lent to follow . ; them ; and so prepare, with firmer step and ^ stronger tru>t, to cross the mist-veiled river . t r that rolls between us and our Home! , ol Life of The West Point Cadet. ^ fie sleeps in the barracks in a room with w one other ; at five in the morning, in summer, tli and half past five, in the winter, the reville N awakens him. He immediately arises, doubles sij up his blankets and mattrass, and places them T on the head of his ii on bedstead; he studies of until seven oYlock; at that hour the drum in beats for breakfast, and the cadets fall into c.i rank and proceed to the mess hall. Twenty b; minutes is the usual time spent at breakfast, al Guard-mounting takes place at half-past seven, af and twenty-four are placed on guard every vt day At eight o'clock the bugle sounds, and cc the recitations commence. At one o'clock the re bugle again sounds, the professors dismiss their d< respective stations, the cadets form ranks opposite the barracks and march to dinner. He- fu tween eleven and one, a part of the cadets arc lit occupied in riding, and others in fencing daily, ei After dinner they have until two o'clock for ja recreation, and from two to four they are em- to ployed in recitations. At four the bugle sounds, in and they go either to battallion or light artil- in lery di ill. This exercise lasts an hour and a ci half. After that, they devote the time to re- ci creation until parade, which takes place at sun- to set. After parade they form into rank in front T of the barracks, and the names of the delin- ca quents are read by an officer of the cadets.? m Supper conies next, and after supper recreu- th tion until eight o'clock, when the bugle sounds A to call to quarters, and every cadet must be es found in his room, within a few minutes, at tv study, and must remain there thus employed, tii until half-past nine. At half-past nine the bu- "fa gle again sounds ; this is called tattoo ; and ei , a.. 4I.A inno oml rivuru pniluf n?iict lip In nt itru uiu uitiiii ^ j v??mvv ? in bed, having liis light extinguished, and must hi icinain there until morning. If, during the gi night, the cadet is found to Ire absent from his room, for more than thirty minutes, and does g not give a satisfactory account of himself, char cr ges are preferred against him, and lie is court- al marshaled. The use of intoxicating drinks li and tobacco is strictly repudiated; so are play- m ing at che>s, wearing whiskers, and n great tl many other things. 'I he punishments l? which I tl idets are liable are privation of recreation' :c., extra hours of duty, reprimands, arrests, r confinement to his room or tent; confine icntin light prison, confinement in dark pris1, dismission with the privilege of resigning, id public dismission. Through the months f July and August the cadets are encamped, id during the encampment the instruction is ccjusively military. The only furlough al>wed to Cadets is two months, when they are i the third class. The pay of the cadet is venty-four dollars per month, and his board isls him ten of this. From the balance he is quired to dress and defray his other expen;s, and he is prohibited from contracting debts ithout. \s the reward for his labor and cprivation, the cadet acquires an excellent Jucation?in mathematics better, probably, lan he can get in any other institution in the * " ? t 1 >untry. The training here ot ooin ouuy auu ind is very thorough and complete. From the Philadelphia Ledger. Who is Dost Jttaliammcd ? The intelligence from India, that Russia has rmed an alliance with Dost Mahatnmed, has ; once brought into notice a name, famous lough ten years ago, but lately almost for)lten. There are, doubtless, thousands of >aders, especially the younger ones, wonderg who Dost Mahammed is; we will tell them, ir it is a name that will probably live in his?ry, The country of the Artghans, 1} ing on the -irth-west of British India, is a mountainous gion, inhabited by bold and hardy tribes, hose blue eyes, light hair, and marked counnances show them to be of the best Caucasan race. Some y ears ago, the monarch of llghanistan dying, the ancient kingdom split to fragments, and among those who profiled y the occurrence was Dost Mahammed, a imager brother of a former vizier. The Iirith, however, taking the part of Shaj Shuja, a inner occupant of the throne, marched an rmy into Afghanistan, siezed Cabul, the capiI, and having made a prisoner of Dost Atoun.ned, sent him across' the Indus to their An territories, where they retained him in a >rt of honorable captivity. At the same time, baj Shujali was replaced on the throne of ahul. These events happened in 1830 and $40. For this interference in the affairs of Afflianistan, the British had no excuse whatever. . is true that the Persians were at war with ierat, and that the Briti>h feared, if Herat II, that the Persians, instigated by Russia, mild assail British India next. It is true, al i that Dost Mohammed was believed to favor ie Persians' designs on Herat. But that Dost [ohamined was, at this juncture, hostile to le British, has never been proved. Dearly, mvever did the British pay for their interferice. In November, 1841, an insurrection roke out at C'abul against the British. In le tumult 8ir Alexander Barnes, and several her distinguished officers lost their lives.? his partial rising was followed by an insurrocon over the whole kingdom. The British, ir the first time in India, since Lord Clive benn to lay the foundations of their power, nailed before the storm. Sir William Mclagliten, the British envoy at Cabul, agreed ith Akber Khan, the favorite son of Dost lohammed, to evacuate the country, Akber ipulaling to escort the British army to the ontiers, and Sir William pledging that Slinj huja should abdicate in order to make room ?r Dost Mohammed's return. At a second cling between Sir William and Akber, a dis'iision arising, probably provoked on purpose y the latter, Sir William was shot dead by the (Tghan chief. Abker, however, agreed sub qnentlv to carry out the terms of the treaty. Now began a retreat, the horrors of which ilv that of Moscow has equalled in modern ines. Abker professed to escort the British rmy, but secretly instigated, it is believed, ie mountain ttibes to assail them; and con quoin ly the march of the fugitives was a tlai' scene of massacre. The season was c??M; ie defiles were blocked up with snow; the oops were encumbered with a large number ' women and children, besides a vast body of llowers. Some died from exposure, and ime were left to perish from sickness 011 the ay-side; but the greater quantity fell from ie swords of the merciless mountaineers.? ever but once in modern times has a more goal vengeance been visited 011 invaders.? ho passes were filled along the whole line 'retreat, with corpses, that often were piled heaps. Almost the only persons who esiped were some oflicers and their wives, who id placed themselves under A ckber's personcare, a few marches from Cahnl, and who, tor months of captivity, after terrible priitions. and after !on?r weeks of suspense, sue cried, by bribes, in making their escnpe ami aching the nearest British force?having rid?n several days in hourly peril of their lives. The British, meantime, had advanced in rce from their own side of the Indus, and id even penetrated to Cabul ; hut the prison's, having thus been recovered, and Sliaj Shu h having been assassinated, it was resolved i leave the Alfghans to themselves. Accord gly Dost Mohammed, who had been retained captivity all this this time, and whose partipation in the late events, though suspected, mid not be proved, was set at liberty. He ok possession at once of the throne of Cabul. he British simultaneously abandoned that ipital, but not until they had destroyed its faious bazaar. It was in November, 1842, that ie last division rc-crossed the Indus, and the ll'ghan prince was restored to freedom and eorted to the frontiers of his kingdom. Just reive months hyd elapsed since the insurrcc n in Cabul. But in that single year a more tal blow had been struck at the British pow*, by destroying the idea of British invincility, than the whole ninety preceding years id witnessed, since the British arms first bein to make headway in the East. Dost Mohammed has no love for thi Enlish. There is little doubt that he secretly (used the massacre at Cabul, and that lie will t the first chance, seek still further vengeance, i releasing him, th? British acted from fear lore than any other motive, for they found icy could not hold Afghanistan, and they tought it would conciliate Dost Mohammed to set him at liberty. They have been mistaken, as they will find, if not i ow, then at the first really favorable opportutiirv. IVaxiiiis to iWarry by. The following maxims to marry by, addressed to single gentlemen, are copied from a very old number of Blackwood, printed so long ago thatuKit North" must have been something of a beau at the time he wrote them. Now, in making marriage, as in making love ?and indeed in making most other things? the beginning it is that is the difficulty. But the Trench proverb about beginnings?(J'estletii'niviiur una nui more literallv to r..? 1_. p? _ the arrangement, of marriage; as our English well illustrates the condition of love?'The first' step over, the rest is easy.' Because, in the marrying affair, it is particularly the "first step' that 'costs'?as to your cost \ou will find, if that step happens to go the wrong way. And most men, when they go about the business of wedlock, o\\ ing to some strange delusion, begin the affair at the wrong end. They take a fancy to the white, arms, (sometimes only to the kid gloves,) or to the neat ancles of a peculiar school girl; and conclude from those premises, that she is just the very woman of the , world to scold a houseful of servants, and to bring up a dozen children! This is a convenient deduction, but not always a safe one. White arms, and neat ancles, bring me, nat urally, at once to the very important consideration of beauty. For don't suppose because I caution you against all dishabilllcs, that I w ant to fix you with a worthy creature whom it will make you extremely ill every time you look at her. For the style of attraction, please your, selves, my fiiends. I should say a handsome figure?if you don't get both advantages?is better than a merely pretty face. Good eyes are a point never to be overlooked. Fine teeth full, well proportioned limbs?don't cast these away for the sake of a single touch of the small pox; a mouth something too wide, or dimples rather deeper on one side than the other. It may, at some time, he a matter of consideration ivlipfli^r vou shall marrv a maid or a widow. As to the taste, I myself will give no opinion?I like both; ami there are advantages and disadvantages peculiar to either. If you marry a widow, I think it should be one whom you have known in the life, time of her husband; because, then ab actu ad pause?from the sulferings of the defunct, you may form some notion of what your own will be. Ifher husband is dead before you knew her, you had better be off at once; because she knows (the jade!) ! what you will like, though she never means to do it; and, depend upon it, ifyou have only one , inch of penchant, and trust yourself to look at j her three times, you are tickled to a certainty. Marrying girls is a nice matter always; for ! they are as cautious ascrows plundering a corn j field. You may 'stalk' for a week, and never ; get near unperccivcd. You hear the catcrwaul; ing as you go up stairs into the drawing room louder than thunder; but it stops?as if by magic! the moment a (marriageable) man puts his ; ear to the key-hole?1 don't myself, I profeS3 | upon principle, see any objection to marrying j a widow. If she upbraids you at any time with i the virtues of the former husband, you only ' reply that you wish he had her with him, with j all your soul. If a woman, however, has had , more than three thousands, she poisons them; ! avoid her. In widow-wiving, it maybe a question wheth1 er you should marry the widow ofan honest man j or a rascal. Against the danger that the last may have learned ill tricks, they set the advan1 tage?she will be more sensible (from the con1 ^ * - ?.i i ? j trnslj to iiic Kinuness ui <t ^euiiciiiiin imu .v | man of honor. 1 think you should marry the honest man's widow; because, with women, habits is always stronger than reason. But the greatest point, perhaps to be aimed ; at in marrying, is to know, before marrying, I what it is you have to deal with. You are , | sure to know this, fast enough, afterwards. Be ; sure, therefore, that you commence the necessa* ' ry perquisitions before you bave made up your I mind, and not as people generally do after.? | Remember that there is no use in watching a ; lady that you love; because she can't do anything?do what she will?that will be disagreeable to you. And still less in examining a woman that loves you; because, for the time, she will be quite sure not to do anything that ought to be disagreeable to you. I bave known I a hundred perfect tigresses as playful as kittens ?quite more obliging than need be?under such circumstances. It is not a Iqid way? | maid or widow?when you find you are fancy: ing a woman, to make her believe that you have an aversion to her. Ifshe has any con- j coaled qualities, they are pretty sure to come out on such an occasion. Don't marry any woman under twenty?she is not come to her wickedness before that time. : Nor any woman who lias a red noso at any age; [ because people make observations as you go j along the street. A 'cast of the eye'?as the lady casts it upon you?may pass muster under some circumstances?ami 1 have even known those who thought it desirable; but absolute squinting is a nionoply of vision which ought not to be tolerated.?Blackwood. The strict honesty of llob Simpglassdeserves to be regarded as example to bis brethren of the Happy good-fellow Society. The other night having walked over Cambridge bridge in a zig zag course; curious and wonderful, he hove up against the toll house and giving the toll-gatherer two cents, he exclaimed : "llerc?ic?is my contribution to tho support of the bridge." "Yes, and there is one ecnt over," said the tender. "One cent over," said tho tender. "One cent is tho regular toll - ic?ic?nint it? "Yes, sir." "Well, then, I owe you two, any way?for if I have not walked every plank in the bridge twice over, then?ic?I'm a barber' spole. So, keep the change, old" fellow." lie reeled away, and the admiring toll-gatherer lost sight of him in the darkness.?Boston l'aper. ? ? Kofloction is a flower of the mind, giving out wholesome fragrance; reverie is the same flower, when weak and running to seed. ?enfral Herns. From the Charleston Courier. The New State House. We learn that the portion of the Northern wing of the new Capitol, which has been completed, gives much satisfaction to all who have examined it, uiul angnrs well for the effect of the plans when completed, as well as the faithful execution by the several contractors of the respective departments. The iron work, from the establishment of C. Werner, of this city, | i * o ? j._t?a _.,.i ? fJHS UCCIJ Universally aumucu, itim CAiuuuo nig taste and variety of design which have marked the products of his foundry and shops. The building, when completed, will he not only a rioble pile fit for the legislative uses of a State, but a monument of the resources or the State. The execution of such an extensive work we trust will open permanently and advantageously the granite quarries, and give an impetus generally to all the industrial branches called into requisition. We give the following official reports of the state and prospects of this building: The Commissioners, to whom the Legislature has committed the erection of the New State Capitol, deem it proper to render to the State an account of the details of the manner in which they have so far discharged the dutyassigned to them, to point out the steps it now becomes necessary to take for further progress, and to suggest the necessary appropriations to enable them to go on, in completing the building. The moving and most pressing object was, to secure the records of the upper districts, and also the archives of the State, in safe and fire proof offices. The Commissioners, in view of the apparent fact, that the present State house has become quite unsuifed to the present or prospective wants of the State, and especially as its material is not sufficiently safe or durable for a State building, intimated, that the object of Fire Proof Offices might be combined with the more enlarged improve meut, a new State Capitol, thus saving the double expense; and as the basement story of the new Capitol was the appropriate place ol deposit of the public grants, plats, and archives, they caused a plan to be drawn, which would include in one wing of the basement, Fire Proof OlHces for the principal class of paper. This has been done, and the Legislature will now perceive that this wing is already erected, and in a short time the public records will be removed to a perfectly secure deposit. Part ofa new Capital is also erected?the foundation in part laid. The material is drawn from the bed of the river that runs at the base of the Capitol Hill. Its quality can be seen and compared with any building material in the world, and its inexhaustible material thus develcpes to the State its resources in building material. The whole plan of the elevation is carefull)' drawn. The Capitol will contain every convenience of a State House. The entire basements afford ample room for all public offices. The second story will afford a magnificent Hall for the House of Representatives, over the basement story of the north wing; a a Senuto Chamber on the south ; and on the western poitico an ample and commodious library; rooms for the Court of Appeals, and numerous committee rooms; Governor's room; and every ample accommodation for all public use required ofa State Capitol. The whole to be warmed and ventilated according to the most approved principles of modern science.? Such is the general plan. The whole to be effectually fire-proof, so that nothing but the wa'tc of ages can destroy it. The building will be costly, but. your Commissioners nave taken care that the State shall not pay for any thing it does not get. We have left nothing for a speculating contractor to pocket. The building will be of granite and iron. The granite is taken from its native quarry, transported to the spot, hewed, and laid in its place in the building?being regularly measured, every block, and paid for by the perch?so all iron woik is paid for by the pound. No money !s paid to the contractors unless duly measured or weighed, and the books of the Treasury will show every dollar the State pays, and what for. The building, when completed according to the plans, w ill he within a very reasonable cost, when South Carolina will he able to boast of a Stale Capitol, built of native mateiiuls, and Comparing in convenience and magnificence with any in the Union. True economy demands that the means should lie placed at the disposal of the Commissioners, to enable them to make iheir contracts in large parcls, so that so extensive a building may progress, in some respects, simultaneously. The entire basement must be united together ; to effect this the old building must be moved <>fT the site ; the foundation of the centre and wings laid together. The Commissioners propose, during the next year, to go on with the entire first or basement story. This will he the bulk of the cost, as the foundations, to be enduring, must be strong and massive, 'l'he upper stories will he lighter. The land necessary to enlarge the area oftlie Cap'tol grounds, can he procured now, and forming a mateiial part of the plan, the Commis>ioners propose an appropriation not exceeding $250,000, to enable them to comploto their grounds, remove the present State House, wh??re it can be used until the Capitol ;s ready, lay the entire foundation, and erect the first story ready for occupation.? This estimate is founded upon minute calculations, and we believe it will enable the Commissioners to make the proposed progress. Kvery day the workmen become more adroit in quarrying, erecting, and perfecting their work. They have a good deal ol material on hand. The fire-proof portion now erected will cost about sixty thousand dollars, which consumes which consumes the greater portion of what the Legislature have already placed in our control, every item of which is duly entered in the books of the Treasury. Besides this outlay, their materials and labor, beyond the fire proof building, and adapted ?o the rest of the building, has co-t about $30,000. From the careful avoidance of all speculations, and the rigid economy heretofore pursued, and now the fixed rule of action, the Commissioners anticipate in a few years to present the Slate, not only the most magnificent, hut the cheapest public building of llie Republic, built solely wi h borne materials, and we. trust with that scru pulous regard to public fidelity, which has here* tofore constituted the pride and boast of publie servants of South Carolina. To complete the upper portions will be comparatively less costly than the foundations and basements, as the walls \v II be less massive, and can be proceeded widi at less expense. * j The question is often asked, when will MitJ new Capitol be finished ? If funds are aflTor- ' ded either by yearly appropriations, or bjT the issue of stock, redeemable at a future day, to >be applied exclusively to the new building, the ' basement can be completed in a year, and the ; superstructure in one or two years; which is \ as rapidly as it is prudent to pile together auch on i?.i million U'lii.ihr tvliii'h dhrllll.l hi- 111> rill i It HI I gradually to find its hearings. j As to the entire cost, nn approximation can 9 only be obtained. As much granite to lie paid | | for by the perch as may he required > as mneh >.9 iron, to be paid for by the pound ; the cost of ] 1 furnaces, gas fixtures, and means of ventilating, a constitute the chief items; and when finished, I the Stale will have full value received, in the 3 security, utility and magnificence of its Capitol. The Commissioners respectfully rec??nimeitd ^ that the suin of three hundred and fifty thousand dollars be nppropritcd f<>r the purpose of carrying into effect the foregoing suggestions. W. IZARD Bt. LL, Chairman, ^ Union of Spain and Portugal.?On this subject the Paris correspondent of the London : Times writes?" No serious apprehensions are , i believe, entertained of a Miguelite iusupfec- ? tioii, even if such a thing be attempted. It is believed that it is the only faction that would ^ think, at this moment, of reviving civil war; but 1 am assured that the character of the Port tuguese pretender is far beneath that of his J brother pretender of Spain, Don Carlos. I have already alluded to the fact of the question of a . fusion between Portugal and Spain'being again agitated. The question is an old one, but I ' have good reasons to believe, that fractions of 1 ' all parties in the latter country are seriously contemplating* the consolidation of the two ?w?umo oiui nntnnlilofd nra niiltli^lioil | ing that measure. It is scarcely necessary to \ observe, that it would be more unpopular in J Portugal. The Portuguese grandees wotjfd, if 1 : such an event took place, loose all their itnpor- J .tauce, as the country would its independence, I | and I have little doubt that the Poituguese jd I people would resist any such attempt-by arms. I However hopeless the design be, I have good ' reasons to believe that intrigue has been at % work for some time, and is at work more ac- j lively than ever at the very moment i write. \ The late melancholy event of the death of Donna Maria maybe taken advantage of "by the intriguers." > - Baltimore, Dec. 8.?The EorrnpaV mails contain a correspondence between Lord Howden and Mr. Corbin, of Virginia, relative to \ the designs of the British Government for the Africanization of Cuba. Ilis Lordship pronounces the whole story a wicked fabrication, and says his efforts have been directed to induce Spain to suppress the slave trade and""obtain the freedom of the Emancipados, who have been unjustly detained in bondage since 1817. The Washington Union, however, professes to find in the letter internal eviden.e confirmatory of its statements. Tiib Prospect of a General War.?The J' New York Times, commenting uj>on late tiews, ) savs that the chunccs undoubtedly are, that the ! War will eventually become general. It will scarcely be possible for France and England to look without concern upon its progress. Already, indeed, the French government?as will be i evident from the language of the official Paris * oumals?is beginning to assume a loftier tone than it has held hitherto upon this subject, and / and to denounce the conduct of Russia in terms which have called forth the emphatic remonstrances of the Russian Ambassador. The English Ministry will hold themselves aloof to the J latest moment, but the popular feeling of the country is far in advance of their action, and will i speedily be inflamed by the news of the battles lost and won, to a pitch of indignation which will no longer allow the Government to remain inactive. . Grand Temperancm Mketinu.?The Sons ^ of Temperance opened their new and magnificent Hall, in King-street, last night. The evenj was celebrated by an address from the Rev. E. T. Winkler, who spoke in eloquent terms of * tho evils of intemperance. He admitted, while he deplored the fascination possessed by the god of wine, a fascination which had ensnared and enslaved some of the brightest intellects in nil ages, and thus prolonged the reign of this false god on earth, by throwing rite halo of genius and song around his name. In alluding to the peculiar institutions of the South, ho discanted on the dangers that might accrue to the State from the colored population, in bye places acquiring habits of intemperance and insubordination at the same time, lie closed Itis address with the fervent hope that when the insatiate God of wine should ask for more victims, he might he met with the universal cry it is enouyh. Many ladies graced the hall with their presence, and music and song made joyous the hour.? Charleston Mercury of Tuesday. Mr. Benton has selected the seat and desk long occupied by John Quincy Adams, on tin) Whig side of the House, which is regarded as ominons of his future political associations. The AntUBeiUou members have been assured that Watson, who is Mr. Denton's candidate for the St. Louis I'ostoffice, shall not be appointed. New cars have just been built for the Phil adilphia Wilmington and Baltimore Hail road Company, intended to be n-ed as ladies' sleeping cars. They are furnished with patent spring seats. The New Orleans papers contradict the rennrt that cholera has made its appearance in I New Oilean?. 14