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THE CAMDEN JOURNAL. VOL.11. CAMDEN, SOUTH CAROLINA, FEBRUARY 8, 1650. ' NUMBER II. fMan?wjyanca nanBDaanaaiaraBBic Poetical Department. From the Baltimore American. -MY MOTHER'S KISS. I love to hear the music Of a sister's careless glee, a ?.1 - l..??l,rtr'0 Irinrllr vnirft illlU a UIWllJCl o Bringeth melody to me. I love the gentle pressure Of many a fond caiess; Yet there's one that more than all Hath power to soothe and bless. My infant lipturn'd eagerly To meet its soft salute, Giv'n with a trembling earnestness Tiiat seaPd the giver's mute. I lnv'd it then unconsciously, And froitt that hour, to this, There is nought on earth so precious As my,mother's gentle kiss. It was then my richest guerdon, When, some childish lesson o'er, With the^vildly pushing joyousness That may visit nie no more? My young heart overflowing With the fondness of this bliss, I flew to claim the promise Of her proud and happy kiss. And when at length grown weary Of hanniness and play, I sought rejtose and balmy Bleep < At close of minuicr tlav ; When my vesf>er hyinn way over, And ray evening1 pnyer was said, And the curtains gathered carefully By her hand around my bed? The fervent pressure of that kiss, As tny eyes began to close. Shed o'er tny rest its rosy dreams, Till the early birds arose. And ever when a wanderer ? j From ray love-encircled homo, ' Mid other sceimp, with otlmr friends'. O'er land or sea 1 roam ; When the twilight shadows gather, And the dew falls on the flowers, And the weary birds are turning Kach to his fo:eut bower? And the fond heart homeward tendeth, Oh ! 'tis sorrowful to miss The accents of her sweet " good night," My mother's parting kiss. Florence, Ala., December, 18IS. WOMAN'S SPHERE. "NVarr'ors and statesmen have iheir mood or |irai?e, And what they door suffer men record ; But the long sacrifice of woman's days Passes without a thought?without a word ; And many a holy struggle for the sake Ofdolie* sternly, faithfully fulfilled? For which the anxious mind must watch and wake, And the strong feelings of the heart be stilled ? Goes by, unheeded as the summer wind, An<l l?v? nn mr.innrv and no trace behind ! &l)c 01io. From the American Messenger. THE OLD AND THE NEW YEAR. I muwd as the midnight hour ('row nigh, and mefhonght iho Old Year stood lielore me ? WerfVy and way-worn ho seemed, nod in hi* hand was an hour glass, from whence the hist sands wero fleeting. A* I looked upon his wrinkled forehead, me. mnries troth pleasant and mournful came over me. Fain would I have constrained his longer lay, and spake earnestly to him : 44 Many blessings hast thou brought me, for which f give ihee thanks. New have they hern I every morning, and fresh every moment. 44Thou hast indeed, from my heart's garden. I <inmvru?rl some lumpsthat i rJanled there. With i , their clustering buds tin*y fell, a.''d were never | .quickened agaiu." Then he said. " Praise (?od, liotli for \v!iat I pare, and what I took away. And lay uptrca- i aurea in heaven, that thy heart may lie there al- j so. What thou callest blighted hopes, are. oltImea changed into the fruits of righ eoustioss." But i answered, " Thou hast also hidden from my sight the loved and the revered. Clods are i strewn upon their fiices ; they reply to rny call | no more. To the homes that they made so fair I they return not, and ibe places that once knew j them, know them no more lor over. Still he said, "Give praise to God. Troulile i not thyself a ho*'! those that arc with him. R?. j thermake thine own^alvatioti sure, llint thou mayest go unto them, und he palled no more." I Then, in a faint voice, lie murmured, ".My mission unto man is done. For mo, the stone is rolled away from the door of the sepulchre. I shall enter in, and slumber with the years lie. yond the flood, till the last trumpet sounded)." I gazed upon his wan hrow, and to me it was beautiful. Fain would I have ?>wept away the snows that gathered around his Itoary temples ; . ^ it 1 ?...| t,;?| i,. mil nn Hlllieruu ll|u iiiji, u iiu 91iuhiiiu Miiini.il I out to die. Byh in Ride I knelt, and said, " O departing Year! I behold a scroll (idded beneath tliv I mantle. What ivitnc&s shall it bear of me at the judgment ?" Low and solemn were bis last tones. "Ask me not. Thou shall know when the books are opened, and the dead, small and great, stand be fore God." The midnight clock struck. And I covered my face, and mourned for his death who had been to me as a friend. [ remembered with pain how oft I had alighted his warning* and the opportunities he had given me of doing good, and had cant away the wealth of time, 1 that priceless boon from the Internal. Methought from the dying lifts eamo a. feeble sigh, "Farewell?farewell." Then a passion ol \veeping fell upon me. And when again I lifted I up my head, lo, lite Now Year stood in the j plaee of iho departed. Smiling, he greeted me with good wishes and words of cheer, while around me lay many bright tokens of friendship and of love. Dot I! was afraid. For to me he was a stranger ; and when I would have returned his welcome, my ; lips trembled and were silent. Then he said, "Fear not. I rome onto tliee from the giver of every good and perfect gift." j "New Year, whither wilt thou lead me ? , Art thou appointed to bring me joy or sorrow, life or dea'h ?" lie replied, " I know not. Neither doth the angel nearest to the throne know. Only lie ! who sitleth thereon. Give me thy hand, and < question not. Enough tor thee, that 1 nccoin pltsli his will. Make that will thine own, and thou shall wear an angel's smile, even here he- i low. I promise thee nothing. Be content to fol- : low me. Take, with a prayer for wisdom, this ; winced moment. The next may not he mine to give. Yet, if we walk onward together, for. > get not that thou art a pilgrim for eternity. "Iff hringthee the cup of joy, he thankful, and pitiful to those who mourn : nnd let all men he unto thee as brethren. If the dregs of hitter- j ness cleave unto thy lip, he not too eager to ! receive comlbrl, lest thou hetray the weakness of thy faith. God's perfected discipline givcth wisdom. Therefore count them happy who ' endure. ... ? .1 I " When morn lireal?elli in the east, giro my. i sf?]f fi?r thy duties with a song of thanksgiving. 1 For Mod is near to those who trust him, and { rejoice in his ways. And when night puttelh i on her coronet of stars, kneel and ask that the ' day's sins may he forgiven thee. " So, when I have no longer any days or j nights to give thee, and miKt myself die, thou shall Mess me as a friend, and a helper 011 the | road to heaven." L. II. S. "Titi.! P iTivr. Passion Stkoxg ix" sT.bejv : ?The passion for gambling ami helling is the I master of the individual who giv* his mind to it. Not long ago an unoffending old gentleman travelling in the South, put up at an ho'el j which was so lull that lie was compelled to take a hed in a room which contained three ifr four other sleepers, one of whom was a notorious gamhler. In the middle of the njglit, the old ! gentleman was compelled to search for his handkerchief, which lie had left in the pocket ; of his coat. Not heing acquainted with the ge. ! ography of the room, he went sturnhling ahotit, ! running now and then against some obstacle. ' While these peregrinations continued, he mnt- ; tered, or soliloquized aloud, something in this "i y ii* "I'll bet five dollars I shall run into a basin j ofwater or something like it. Confound the i darkness! I'll bet ten dollars I shall run into a ! hnsin, or a pail. Deure take the handkerchief, | and my cold! I'll bet twenty dollars I ire, in !" , No sooner was the last wager offered, than ; clatter, crash, stdash! went a larce wash basin j and pi'rher lo the fl ior, deluging the mifortii i nnte man. mid almost frightening }>im out of Lis ! wits. The gambler, who was wide awake, immediately on hearing the offer of the wager, and the noise of the accident, which were si- ; inn'taueous, exclaimed, in a voice of suppressed J excitement, hut raised to its highest pilch? j ' You darned foo'! W|>y *li?!i?'t you stake all ihe money you've got?you hod a sure thing ! ofur The Huston Transcript states that there arc several establishments in ("atnhri Igeport, at each of which 300,000 pounds of family soap are manufactured annually. These establish* i ments' likewise send into !'o?ton every year,! thousands of boxes of tallow cardies. An old lady said her husband was very fond ! * j .1 . I .t.. C..J. i* I.' t. ' 01 pearlies, niio mat wa< Ills win num. ruon, | madam," said one, ' how can yon ra!! 1 litil a j limit?" "Wby, because there arc diflcrcnt j ways of rating tlicm, sir. .My husband lakes fhem in the form ?d brandy !" An accomplished authoress says, "I look upon llio American Tract Society as one of the greatest means of religious culture in our country, ami every year swells the importance of eolportage. The colporteurs are indeed the tappers and miners of llit* great Christian arm). Cim.nitKA'.?The real object of education is to give, children resources that will endure as long as life endures ; habits that time willame. borate, not destiny; occupy lions that will reti. der siekness tolerable, solitii'iti jdeasanf, age venerahle, life more dignified and li^ei;.'!, and death less terrible.? lire. Sydney Smith. S Ct-i-.-v Um-vii l.iunpu ?Tim tcnlinrr I ladder which the C*liri>tian soldier must ^nse, J has seven rounds?hearing, believing, loving. ; doing, siitferiiig, slfiving, conquering. When j llin buttle becomes triumph, then we need the I ladder no more. Tun Voicb ok Wisdom and Ack.?In toy i apprehension, the best way lo be useful and ! happy in this life is to cultivate domestic, nflee. tions?to love home, and at the same time be temperate and just; to pursue lawful business, whatever it may be, with diligence, firmness, and integrity of purpose, ami in the perfect belief that honesty is equally binding in the discharge of public as of private trusts ; for when public morals arc destroyed, public liberty can not survive. Ifwe are aspiring, \vc o?i??lit not to b>?o our diffidence; and if ardent lor reforms ought not to lose our discretion. We ou^Iit to listen to the maxims of experience, and respect the advice and institutions of our ancestors, and above all, we ought to have a constant abiding sense of the superintending goodness of that AI ???i?rli ty Being who*! "wisdom shines equally ill his works ami in his word, and whose presence is everywhere, sustaining and governing t'-o iiuiverse. ? Kent. Tyiler, the Scottish historian, is dead. 21 Selected Sale. A VEffiETIAlTsTORVr" [continued.] Thai night I hey were engaged; (he Countess drove home cxtiltinjjly in the fulfilment of a long-cherished sclictne. Traflord went to his lonely lodgings, and long, long wore on the hours before he fell asleep, lie dreamed anain of the figure, the face, the voice of his vision?"Venezia" was again the word she muttered to him; and again he woke tip terrified and agitated. The connexion ot Venice with liisunknown was perfect* Iv natura!, from the fart of the one he had believed her connected with having been an inhabitant and a native of that city. Tralford woke up to rcme idicr he was an engaged man; and the feeling was far from pleasurable. The idea of the Com.less was associated with none of the ecstatic happiness and bewildering tumult lie felt might have fallen to his lot, had he succeeded in realising the fairy dream that each one's youth have nursed and middle age destroyed. Still lie was engaged; and lie must now behave himself accordingly. So he rose, and dressed,and went at once to the Hotel de Flcuranges. 1 ic stood before the gloomy portal, so soon to own him for a master, and was admitted into the boudoir of the mistress of the mansion. She was there. In her eyes shone the iight of successful love. She never looked handsomer or happier; but Traflord fell his heart sink into mourulul and morbid apathy, lie saw before him one who, fur his sake, had given up every prospect held out by an alliance with wealth and rank, and yet lie taxed himself with ingratitude and coldness for feeling so little the vast sacrifice she made on his account. Ho tiicd in vain to rouse himself from his melancholy mood. He made every effort to appear as happy as so prosperous a love' should* but ihe vanity, and folly, and emptiness of his life, had never before struck liiin so painfully. The woman before him then was to be the end and final background of the future he had reserved so long to himself. The vague mist that had hung over the one lie was at last Jo find, and worship. had i clfcarcd off, and had Heft full in his view a ; handsome French widow, with cinqunnlc mill?. He res(lc rente, certainly. J'ut 7'raHord had no covetous love of money, and would i rather have left unsatisfied his avarice than his romance. The following evening lie went late to the house of Madame do Fleuranjzos. lie knew she was out. She had gone to see a frjrnd at CJhaiililly; hut lie itacl left a hook in the ! morning on thetahle, which lie had intended ' to take awav. He went into, the houdoir ! where they had spent the morning together, j I he honk (it was ?Seott s jtJoiHtsfcri/, then jusl published. 1S20) lie could not find. He looked ?iii ?i H I lie sofas, chairs, and couches. He thnujjhi it must have been |>ul away by some of the servant"-. He would not )eave the house without it. His fancy had been thoroughly fascinated by the hurried i?!nnce he had taken of the sayings and doings of that most successful ofjjhosts, ihcjWhite Lady of Avcnel. Without lief company he would not spend a solitary evening in his lodgings. Through the airy ips of the spirit of Avenel spoke the voice of Ins own lost , vision to his crazed imagination:? What I am I must not shew. What I am thou cwihlVt not know. Something betwixt Una von anil hoi!? Somolliinir thai neither stood nor lot!? i Something ilia I through thy wit or will May work line g'rod, may work then ill !" lie searched every corner. At last he lefl the boudoir, and went into another room. There were some books on the table lie aptin.fiflw.l n fnmri> Willi :i liiilit 111 llCI* hand I' ' " - entered at that moment, lie turned. It was an old, dark-eyed woman, dressed in a somewhat primitive style. lie looked at Iter steadily. iSlio approached. It was a remarkable face, with the fire of an Italian eye, and white hair braided in grisly contrast t,? the smooth olive brow beneath. "Coso vnol ella," she said, letting the light fail on his lace. "Cerco, un libro,'' said Trnllbrd, ''Non lo trovo pero." lie went to a bookcase near,or what appeared such, and opening its folding doors, observed some drawers. Thn old woman drew near, and opened one ?there was nothing in it. ?? :.i 'iv._ r ' jVni v* iiicom??fii, vi pre , fiim j i .nCuril. cardes-dy. "Oiilserva sua!" said the old Italian, and opened another. Trail"-i i 1 < >!;.-d in with va<:iio curiosity. The lijihi i'.-ii toil mi a small portrait. Trnffurd almost faulted when he recognized the face <>f his |on<r sought vision. Ma eosa ha signer cried tho woman amazed. ' ('hi ?;! ehi c !" gasped Tratlord. Per amor del Cido dilinii?ehi e !" " (^ 111 11 a ! oh ! e la carina delta Contessa !" 'r.-..il .i.,| iiwintiile fished her name, her I 1 I II II 'I 1 111 ...... ' residence. her position in 11IV;, and where lie l I i* . I I il II.-. I'..n.,rl f I... In/lv'c 0( 111 1(1 1111(1 HIT S'ltiiur^i: IV. .. .V. ? name was Nina Manfroni; thai she was a first-cousin of Madame do Fluurangcs ;.that Ihcv l)olh had l?eeo in Pan- for a week, during the time of the fete at Saint Cloud; that the woman herself remembered their coins * n there; that they had then returned to Hurgundy; and that the Signorina Manfroni was now in Venice with her friends, living in the Casa Manfroni, on the Canal (*rnndc ? if she were not married, that was to sav. " Married !''cried Trallord. ' Was there any report of her marriage V' ' Sicuro H said 1 lin Italian, who considered ihc question as cxpicssing insult,or rather the of there being any lack <? suitors for so beautiful a young lady as she described her to lie. The family were very poor, vciv noble, and very proud. The inai ringe of the Countess had given great satisfaction, as it had put her in a position to benefit the rest of her connexions. ' And does she often have the young Venetian with her?" said Ti afford, anxiously. " Yes, undoubtedly." replied the itslian. " They correspond frequently?at least they used to do so?but of late there has been a coolness. I know not why." ''Old" thought Trnfford, as he hurried home, "she has not chained me yet " Tin cmv r<nw llm rnnsnnsnf the untruths told l>y Madame dc Fleurnnges. She certainly loved him to distraction ; and, with the quick perception of an Italian, had seen the flame kindled by her voting connexion But now the spell was broken, and the next twelve hours should sec him on Ins way to Venice. He almost felt as if he had hro ken an appointment there, however unwillingly. He got his passport. Ile~ made alibis arrangements hurriedly and secretly; and at _i l i. i i_r. n " c ? 1,^1..' t. .n ?a) urea if nc ion i aris iur naiv, wim an tlio speed he could. For the Countess he left a note: ? Je pars domain pour Vcnisc. Jamaise je nc rcverrais celle quj m'a indignemenl trompe. Maintenant desahuse?jo vous ahandonnc a jamais. lie roar lied Venie.c in nn incredihlv short space of lane. He arrived al the hotel 011 the coat canal (Leon Bianco) late in the evening. He was overpowered with the fatigue and rapidity of his journey, and called for wine. He drank, and sal at the window half stupified, looking out on the lights glittering from the windows of the neighboring palaces. He felt he might, perhaps, on the very morrow, meet, find, the one he sought so liercelv. He stayed up til! the city was quid; and wa'ched, unable to sleep, till the gray dawn of the March morning broke over the stU laguncs. Then as soon a- the sun rose, ordering a gondola, went out on the canal. >? _ i it i r J: .ft HIS g mooucr pauscu i<ir wirccuwiis. j iieu a sense of lhe wildness of the chase came over I he frenzied heart of Trafford?of the idle desperation that had led him so far. lie answered the man almost savagely, and In Ins own command was taken to Saint Mark's Place. For the whole day did Trafford wander ah >tit the bridges, alleys, and churches in Venice, i t the excitement of vain hopes and expectation. lie had, of course, inquired for the Casa Mnnfroni. and had indeed found it easily enough. But the house was empty; the inhabitants were gone on a visit for some weeks. In three they i would return. The servant?the only at-J lendant, it appeared?did not know where the famdy were; and so Trafford had only to wait. lie did. He spent hours opposite the house, until every stone, and every crevice of the gray front, was impressed and engraven deep on his memory. When he thought of the possibility of the stranger turning cold-1 Iv from his love, he became almost de........... J I | .1 <li?%?Im fifiiilrl /In* I llUI^UU. JiU MWIII'I ?IIV I V> . E.iher for iier In; won Id willingly die, or without her lie should as certainly die; and so days passed on. leading Traflord through all the wildest extravagances of the" maddest illusion a manioc ever indulged himself with. One evening late, lie was watching at his wind ?-.v, for lie had taken a lodging opposite I ho Palazzo Manfrom; a gomlola Hew up to l the doors, and ilirce persons disembarked | and entered die h"iis<;...a in.hi and two women. Trail'?rd looked as il his life depended on it. One was a young girl?at least the slight fnrtn told she was so; she was veiled according to the fashion of die city; and, as she left the gondola, her hack was turned to TralTbrd, so that lie could not see her face or profile. The whole of that night TralTbrd watch ' *' r%i int n in CM I lie SjtOl in: new jiiou^iil iiii^iii v.wiiiuiii tlie treasure lie had so l<>n<; s ni?;lit in vain. The moonlight rested as cold as ever on the closed windows and carved balconies.? Traflbrd lelt the whole world was for him centered within those dim and dismal walls. I'.arlv next day, very early, he sat in his oomlola beneath the windows. One was ......I r. .-inn ivic li.-uvl on elm bnlronv fl j? ?? U.1 MVMKf ? .. ...V , niiovp. The morning was fine and warm, and a figure in while leaned ovei the balcony balustrade and looked out. 44 Hah!*' said TralF?rd, in a suppressed voice, clasping his hands convul-ivcly. Ii was the one lie had so long sought. Tears rushed in his eves- -the goal appeared to be won! She looked down calmly. Her eves fell like starlight on the mad and trembling creature at her feet, lie was wrapped in a cloak, and did not dare even to rise, lie ft It perfectIv abject with tear, awe, adora--.I -I ?... A I r, >li<t inr'iv ho had linn uiiii iiunixni. /?i conjured up many, many words lie could pour out in hcnrini! of Ins idol; hut he was under the sway of that passion, whose chiel peculiarity has heou well described hv one master hand, "ISloqtient in absence, dumh presence." So Trallord remained speech^>"t ilie Indv returned into her rooms. lie watched her in n gondola, and followed her to mass, lie followed her lo three dillorciit places: and having seen her within her own doors again, he went hack to the last shop she had entered. It was that of a man who sold pictures, and every kind of thing to tempt the extravagance of strangers and tourists. lie found, after making diligent, though well managed inquiries, that Manfroni Palace belonged to a noble family, greatly impoverished; that the young Lady Nina was devoid ossai, She was living quite out of the world; no one ever saw her at masque or ball or opera; and that her fa ilier and mother wore anxious to sell some of the pictures, oneehcir-loonis in one of the best families in Venire, but now to be disposed of to keep them from starving. TrafTord instantly got a note of introduction from the man he had spoken to. Furnished with this, he set forth at last fairly tobeseige the doors. He was admitted. No. devotee entering the inner sanctuary of his. all-powerful idol ever felt the throb of fear that agitated the awe struck Trafford as he went silently up the wide, chill, echoing stair, and then passed on. into a suite of inner appartmcnts. The room he entered was a vast, dimly lighted saloon, unrarpeted, unfurnished, save that on one wall hung a splended picture o Titian,?a "Holy Family" was the subject. The Venetians rose at his entrance. Before him. at 'ast, stood the young and lovely Nina. But it was not her beauty that enslaved his soul, for there was a spiritual loveliness in her eyes and her brow that carried him far, far beyond the earthly feeling hecalled love. She Was not speaking, but he drew near her at last. Jlis voice failed, his frame shook, as he tried to speak unconcern-, cdly,? " Alfin son," lie began. She looked up; and; a faint recollection seemed to come slowly over her as she looked in the f i$e of Trafford. Iler parenls were talking together in the other end of the mom. Trafford spoke rapidly,?of Saint Cloud, ?the evening he met her; the vain hope with which he had chased through Paris after tier. Hp made no mention of Madame de Fie u ranges, hut he found to his great joy,, that he was listened to, at least, witfi patience. and therefore, might still hope for the favor he longed to obtain. He bought the picture at an extravagant price, but only to restore it to the daughter of the poor old nobleman who sold it. He never let a day pass without bringing to his. Nina every thing of the richest and the rarest he thought she would like the best. If his search had begun vigorously, the prosecution of his desire afterwards was to the full, as singular in its devotion and constancy. The young Venetian looked 011 him more in pity than tenderness; but it was impossisible that a heart so gentle could remain un touched with the despairing passion of onj& so madly in love as the Englishman-. A fortnight after he had first seen her, he~ * implored of her. in the most extraviganl language of idolatry, to become his wife. She told him she did not mean to marry. " Do not tell me that P cried TrafFord r "without you 1 will not, I cannot, live I? What should I do ? Where should I go t Do not turn from me, for the hour i sec there indeed, no hope of moving you, I will destroy myself." A cloud came over tlie beautiful face of tlve Venetian. She looked reprovingly at the wretched Traflord. Ilecoverel his lace with his trembling hands, and burst into tears. She was touched, and lai 1 Iter haiul on his,' Caro mio, ascoltami!" Ti afford seized Iter hand in Ins own. He implored, lie entreated, lie raved; and thai evening Nina promised to marry him. Site was a very devout Catholic; but Traffbrd readily promised that every one of tlie future family sltoul I be Catholics; or anything else she pleased. That she should be his was nil he desired. To he her slave was all lie bolieveti lie ever could fie. He was to live in Venice to please her, he was to live in the Mnnlroni Palace, refurnished by himself: no wiil; no wish would he, could he have, hut what originated in Nina. They were married in June. They went to stay a fortnight at Cumo, and there, on the banks of the enchanting lake. TrafTord spent the first days of his union with his Venetian love. They went on to Switzerland. They led for two months a solitary life amongst the loveliest and lonliest haunts ?vT the mountain land. conclusion next week. About Right-?Some forty years ago, when a man's respectability depended much on his taking a newspaper, a certain shrewd old fellow was one morning enjoying the luxury of his paper, (although he labored under the great disadvantage of not knowing a single letter of the alphabet.) u lien - l.n/MtMiinr ?wo i rr\\ft* *-vf |%i* !i >| f\nP 11 CI I <1 IIHIIU l\ll'MTIU^ tn II. O ...l,.|,w..v.. in?perhaps in borrow his paper?observed lo him that lie had his paper wrong end up. The old gentleman, drawing himself up in all the pomposity of aUroni dignity, exclaimed?'1 would hive you know sir, (hit if I take a paper an l pay fo- it, I have a right I . l!.L _ I ...! | ^1 to react n wntcti cnu up i pieaso. Tin? "Ruixors" Tariff.?The T.awrenro (M ass) Courier (lii?r protectionist) says: 4,lf industry really docs bring its reward, the reward el the Ray Stale mills (woollen manufactory.) in Lawrence, must he rich enough to satisfy the most en^er and enthusiastic of the toiling millions. For several months past two sets of hands have been employed, am! tl o works have been kept moving night and day. ' This is the place where the same work is done by machinery lor four cents, which in Scotland costs twenty.two cents, per var-l. ' JLllc,