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Cljc Camden Journal. VOLUME 11. CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAKOLINArAPRILl6, 1&50. NUMBER 30. {tactical department. ? -? From Richard*' Weekly Gazette. CHANT OF LONELINESS. Ah ! hours, how sad and slowly Ye move, when from the breast, The first fresh glow of feeling Is gone, that brought Its wing to thought, While rapture did the reet All! Hopes, why mock ye ever, Sad spectres of the past. That, on the dark horizon, Still linger lone, When all is got.c, * At Of gleams mat once ye can: Why conjure Memory ever, Though well ye know, in vain Might pray'r recall the vision, That known too late, 'Tis not in fate To wake or warm again! Sweet swallow, wanton soaring, Oh! for a wing like yours? Not seeking hopes departed, Nor one delight, But only flight From memory-haunted shore*. Give me the swallow's winglet, with nf liclit. X iJUl) m?u uiv wpi V. ..Q..., My form might fly to regions, Which still, in dreams, Of joyous gleams, Bring blessings to my eight Oli! thither, at the shutting Of bowery eyes at eve. How blest, to wander freely, And lose the care, That ever here, The weary souf must grieve! No bird that skims the mountain, No fish that darts the lake, Would speed more gaily forward,? First taught to sweep Through air or deep, Its prey or joy to take. * i For, ah! how dull is morning, How dark the day, the night, How silent all in sweetness, To spell the heart, With tuneful art, Or wing the thought for flight! Savannah, Geo. LEON. IK Selected Calc. From Richard's Weekly Gazette. THE COLONEL'S STORY. BY L4CY, OF KENTUCKY. " Talking about pigs," said Col. Overton, bitching his chair up to the fire, and ejecting a * cloud of tobacco smoke from his mouth, as lie tossed the stump of his Havana into the embers ?"talking about pigs, reminds me of an adventure of urine: and, Master Lacy, if you will take your arm from around that bowl of applennrl n?s tho eimA in this direction, to fcVUUJ J ?H*? v? ? gether with an empty tumbler, I will tell you the story." I complied with his request, and the Colonel began as follows: " Once I had occasion to go from Hopkinsville, Kentucky, to Natchez?it has been many years since?and to go alone and on horseback. I had to travel what was known as the "Wilderness Road"?a name which, years ago, was .sufficient of itself to give one the terrors?conTiected, as it was, with tragedies tha most "? 'glitful imaginable?tales of horror, which would harrow up your very soul. " Hopkinsville, in those days, was about as much like what it is now is, as a negro cabin is like Dr. Montgomery's splendid brick mansion. The old 'Buzzard Roost' was the only tavern in the country, and was accounted the finest house in the burg. If old Tom Patton were to come out of his grave, and be set down on Nashville st., he would think that he was in New Orleans, and not Elizabethtown, as they called it in those days. Our magnificent Asylum, and Scpiire Dillard's villa, would scare him out of his wits. But instead of vast tobacco plantations and liailUSUIUC UUUIlujrMniuocjs, wic it iiuiv vvuiivi t ' was then a great prairie. From Ford's Ferry on the Ohio river, to Natchez, the whole route was infested with fierce and daring highwaymen andcut-throats men such as 'Big' and'Little Harpe," possessed of all the audaeious skill and daring of Claude Duval and Dick Turpin with none of the gallantry and generosity ol spirit which legendary stories ascribe to those hero-highwaymen of the olden time. These were stern, iron-hearted, relentless men. Pity and compassion were sentiments without a {rerm in their breasts; remorse was unknown to ' ~ fhe natural instincts of their teSis-and they would blow' ?ut tfie ,>rmns nJan ,unwary (traveler from an ambush, with about as much compunction of conscience a backwoodsman would experience in bringing s_1Li ...at. Ii!a ?iflo 'ITipre was. il IOOW1I a squin L'i n^Hi ...? , have said, a connected chain of them from th( jC)hio river to Natchez. A ma. vho had car ried a Bgtlilla of flatboats to Now Orleans, w a: returning overjand, by the V.'iMerness Road as they had to (Jo jn those day-', when steam boats wore qniinpwn, and stopped at Ford' Ferry Tavern, to Pjay all night-?intending ti cross the river In the morning. No trace o him, his horse, or any thing belonging to him were ever found aftorwardr, from the time h entered the tavern, the cJijc of his movement ceased. He was seen to stop at the tavern by some one going the other way. Ford declared he had ferrfrd him across the river, and he had gone on his route, he knew not where. Yes, he had ferried him across the rive Styx, nnd charged him a heavy toll. His notorious bad character, however, caused a suspicion, amounting almost to certainty, to be created against : him by the scattered settlers around, and lie ! was arrested. But it was known that Ford ! could produce witnesses, who would swear to anything he wished. He had often escaped from a just punishment, by that means, before. As they were conducting him to jail, he was shot through the head, by some foe whom he had wronged. It was in the dusk of evening, and amidst a crowd, and it could not be discov ercd who had perpetrated the cieeu 01 revenge < or retributive justice, though, I suppose, not much inquiry was made. Many stones such as this?many much more dark and bloody than this, formed, in those days and for many years after, the subject of the evening fireside conversation of the South Kentuckians. I had heard them from my youth upwards. I was then about twenty years old. I had been down to Natchez on business, and was returning, with my saddle-bags full-of gold and silver. 1 'camped out' at night?that is, I tethered my horee, and mounted into a tree where I roosted among the limbs like a eata 1 ;i mount?ior in many piaces ii,n ui> umic man ? day's journey from one house to another, and even when they were to be found, the woods were generally the most hospitable, and by far the safest resting place. So 1 bought provision for myself and horse during the day; and lodged in the trees by night not daring to kindle a fire, though it was in the winter, for tear of attracting attention to my 'camp.' Hy wrapping up in my buffalo robe and blanket overcoat, 1 managed, however, to keep warm. " One night, as I was drawing near to the lower edge of Tennessee?it was raining and sleeting like the very old Nick, and bitter cold, and I was tired, hungry, and half frozen?1 i I ? J...1 i.. i??.,k came to a cuunoruiuic touting, uuuun?n'g v.n?in, every crack and crevice of which, as well as the windows, were blazing with light; and a savory odor of fried venison fell on my nostrils, creating a more exquisite titilation than ever did an orange flower to a dark-eyed Southern maid. 1 looked around?the night was pitchy dark, the cold wind was howling through the trees, and the stinging hail pelting against my chattering jaws. 1 could not resist the temptation. "'Hello!' " 'Hello, verself,' cried a swarthy, sallowvisaged, sandy-haired fellow, in yellow jeans trowsers, cowhide boots and cotton shirt, coming to the door. " 'Can a man find lodging with you for the night ?' " 'I reckon so,' he replied, in a rather goodhumored tone, which somewhat re-assured mo ?for I had beau not without misgivings that 1 was purchasing a lire and bed at the expense of my throat. I dismounted, saw my horse disposed of, and entered the cabin. My heart began to misgive me, when I saw what a company I had got into. There were three men, besides the one who had accompanied me to the stable, a youth of nineteen, and an old woman, all sitting around a blazing tire, in a chimney built of unhewn stone, which took up nearly the whole side of the house. On the hearth, which was of baked dirt, of proportionate size, was a gridiron, and on it the venison-steak which had assailed my nostrils with its grateful flavor.? They were the most villainous-looking set I had ever seen, and 1 thought if 1 had sought for a nest of bandits, I could not have been more successful in finding one. One fellow, in particular, who eyed me curiously as 1 entered, I thought, bad 'gallows-bird' written all over him. He was dressed much as the one who came to flw? ilnnr?u'lin lir thn \i'nv Itnrf thi> iil(?:isnnt est countenance of them all?with the addition of a very ill-treated beaver, that had never been acquainted with Beel>e A: Costar, when it was new. He had a low, sunken forehead, with his coarse, straight, red hair covering it almost entirely, and a biistly beard, about an inch long, of the same color, covered his face completely, except his nose and a little spot under each eye. '* The room had no ceiling but the loose plank floor of the garret, and a couple of long, wooden-stocked rifles in the corner, a rusty musket over the tire-place, a wooden cupboard and trble, a rude bed with a dirty path-quilt, and a few chairs of home manufacture, constituted the furniture of the room. "Stranger, you'll have to nut un with roiiL'h V ? i I O fur* 'niong us backwoods folks,' sag1, ail old man, in a coarse blue banket coat, who was sitting in the chimney corner, and seemed to be the I "Thy idea of a comfortable log-fire, venison , steak, fried eggs, and ash-cakes and buttermilk, f being rough fare to a man who had been roost> ing in the trees, made mo smile, as I replied? "' That's the sort 1 have been used to.' Which way arc you traveling, if I mought i ask ?' "' I am going to Kentucky.' ??< i...I v A (Will IIHU? \ : "I nodded. , "'Ah, y ou tote a decent par' of shoot in' irons, t obsprvpdthe red-haired brigand, as I threw oil r my wet overcoat, and displayed a couple ol i horseman's pistols in my belt. His eyes shone ; as he spoke, "'Yes,'said I, fixing my eye on his;'they s are very pleasant and useful companions for a I, traveler. I got the full set,' I added, drawing . a finely-cased bowie knife from my breast, and g handing it to him. o "'Shear'a beauty,' said he, drawing his if horny thumb along the keen and polished blade i, which shone in the red glare of the fire-light, a.? e he bent forward to examine its temper mort a closely?his sharp gray eye sparkling witl pleasure as he observed its admirable workmanship. "' Stranger, I'll give you the best horse in iMassessippi for her. Don't find them sort often in these diggins.' I tell you, Bill's razor uint nothiii' to it. What d'ye say to a swap ?' "And he gnzed at it with the air of a connoisseur, as he passed it to the next. "Could n't trade, I recon,' said I, replacing it in itssilversheath, after it had gone the rounds. I could not afford to part with it. 'You are mighty right hoss,' said the old man in the comer, pulling out a whiff of smoke; 'I would n't ef I was you. She's the clean grit certain; she'd go through bone and all.' "Yes, would she,' said the rod-haired, laughing gleefully at the idea. 'I could shave a man's head oil'with that ar,' before hell could scorch a feather. He would n't know what hurt him.' ,./i * i _ 11 ir i "I. nine siranger, supper s roauy. 1 in nam that we can't give you as good a breakiast, though, for the last slice of meat about the house is on the table.' We sat down to the table together, the men without donning their coats, and the red-haired without doffing his hat. After supper, of which I partook most voraciously, a bottle of whiskey was set out The men appeared to me usually : friendly and hospitable, and laughed and talked in their rough way very jovially; but I could not help suspecting that my well appointed weapons had more influence iti making them so good-humored, than even the whiskey, of which, 1 must contess, however, that they partook very moderately. "There was a cock-loft above, which was accessible only by a ladder and trapdoor, which was to be my sleeping apartment "Your saddle-bags are mons'ous heavy,' observed the red-haired man, picking them up, as I started to bed, and weighing them in his hand. "Yes/ said I, taking them myself,'I got a good supply of powder and lead for myself, when I was below.' "I 'spec:' so,, lie replied, and, as I fancied, in ' a sinister tone, though his words might have ! meant nothing. | "The attention of the whole company was j drawn to my saddle-bags, and I imagined I saw J them exchange looks in a significant manner, which redoubled my uneasincs, as I thought that they suspected them to be lull of gold. "After I had retired to bed, I moved the bedstead as noiselessly as possible, with one foot of it on the trap-door, so that they could not take me by surprise. I endeavored to lay awake, to listen to what was going on below, which 1 could readily do through the cracks in the floor, but, in spite of all tny efforts, I was overcome with drowsiness and fatigue, and in a few niin utes fell asleep. "When I awoke day was just breaking. I was startled by hearing a' gruff voice below, saying- "I say, Bill, it's time we were killin' that feller we were talkin' 'bout last night, aint it V "I could recognize, in this speaker, the redhaired brigand. 'God! they intend to murder me after all,' said I to myself, as I get out my pistols from under toy pillow. "I reckon so,' said the other. 'We'll have to kill him some time, and now will do as well as any.' "He's in mighty good order, in my opinion.' "lie's as fut as the very devil!' "How shall we kill him ?' "Shoot him.' "No. I s'pose we'd better knock him in the head with an axe. Thar is no use wastin' pow (lor and shot on him, scacc as they is raese nara times,' said Red Heard. What cold-blooded scoundrels! Hut I'll make tlicm waste powder and shot yet, if they don't take care. I heard them getting up and dressing, and more talking between them, which their moving about prevented rny catching the sentences of though killing seemed to be the theme. Soon they came to the foot of the ladder, and one said to the other? "'(Jo np, Hill, while I go and make a fire. Don't make a noise, for fear of wakin' him up.' " I could hear him mounting the ladder, to - i - ? -:n?:..? a... perpetuate me uoeu ?m vm.uuv. i mmug ure door fast, he said to the other? "'lie's {jot the door sliet.' " You'll have to wake him up, then.' "' Hello, stranger. I say, mister, hello thar!' What do yon want there?' I asked, cocking a pistol. '"1 want to {jet that mash-tub out o' thar. We're gota In kill a pig for tjotirbrrrthfast! " Murder will out! thought 1, bursting into a laugh, as I saw through, through the ludicrous mistake I had made. I wiped the sweat from my brow, for it had stood there in drops, and et him in, saying, as I did so? Well, it's well I fastened that door.' "' Why so ?' " ' Why, I should have blown you to the devil as soon as you poked your head above it.' The devil you say! What for V " I related to him what part of their conversation 1 had overheard, and how I had misconstrued it. Me laughed heartily, as iliil the rest when he told them. But I was n't murdered 1 ' * " . . .itol limnlifimt nf tlio that time. J m;im- .1 1, faI pig, for which and my lodgings, they would not let me pay a cent, although I urged it almost to ofieiiding; ami after taking a swig of . 'red eve* all around, I went on my way rojoic, ing. Hut even now, 1 can never think of that pig-scrape without a laugh." The Catholic llishop of Havana has recently visited Matanzas, the first visit of the kind | made there for thirty years. During his stay, I the IJishop administered the rite of confirmation to sixteen or eighteen thousand persons, an entire generation having grown up without re J ceiving that rite. 1 Never tread on the tail of a cat, or tell a wo 5 man she is not handsome, unless you arc fond r> 1 mmcc. Ch Sermon. Rectitude of the Divine Administration. A DISCOURSE SUGGEST!D BY THE DEATH OF JOHN C.CALHOUN. Delive- ed in the Methodist Church af Columbia, South Carolina, on Sunday, April 7,1850. BY THE REV. WHITEFOORD SMITH, D. D. "Shall not the Judge of ali the earth do right?" [Genesi8 xviii. 25. The interrogation of the text, my Christian brethren, implies two great truths. The first, that there is a God, whose superintending providence is over all his works. The second, that it is impossible lor Him to do wrong. Nor let it be supposed that these are abstract truths, which have 12 a * A1 ?: 1 .JL! ^4' IUL . UU cl j'JHJUu IIUI) IU U1U pidUULttl dlldir&Ul UCLIIJ 111U , for, in the perpetual vicissitude of human fortune, in the innuinerable trials and afflictions incident to mortal life, what support can be found for the heirs of sorrow like that which is furnished by the consideration that a just and gracious God presides over the universe, directing and controlling all its events for purposes of infinite wisdom and goodness? And, especially, when the dispensations of His providence are inscrutable and mysterious; when all the powers of reason are inadequate to comprehend his designs; what other refuge is there for the mind and heart, but an humble and faithful reliance on the essential attributes of God? Thus, when the cities of the plain were doomed to destruction, and it pleased the Almighty to reveal to his servant Abraham their approaching overthrow, and when the patriarch became the intercessor, and would plead their cause, the strong argument with which he emboldened himself before his Maker, was the language of the text, "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" And when the Judgment was executed, and Abraham looked, "and lo! the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace," though he might mourn over their ruin, yet, doubtless, hie heart was sustained by its faith in the rectitude of the Divine Administration. So, too, when the tidings of disaster upon disaster came to Job, until ttip infpllifpnpp nf his afflictions scpmpd Inn much o ? ? for nature to sustain, "he fell down upon the ground and worshipped," saying, "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither; the l.<ord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." How much more accordant with the dignity of man and the teachings of a pure philosophy, is sucli a submission to the behests of Heaven, than the frantic ravings of an Atheist, who would fain deny the existence of the hand beneath whose blowhe falls! In the history of nations, as well as in the experience of individuals, there are constantly occurring occasions for the exercise of these salutary reflections. For national calamities as well as for private griefs, there is the same Heavenly solace [ "the Lord hath prepared his throne in the Heavens, and his kingdom ruleth over all." You will readily perceive the appropriateness of these thouehts to our present circumstances. But the last Sabbath, the 'pleasant chime of the church-going bells was suddenly changed into the slow and solemn toll?the death-knell of the departed. With electric rapidity were the tidings spread, that one of the most illustrious of our country's Senators was numbered with the dead. That he who, but a few days before, with the promise ofreturning strength, had lilted up his voice in the Capitol in defence of the dearest interests of his State, was now no more. The loss of this distinguished Statesman is recognised as a national affliction. His name had long been inscribed upon his country's brightest page, enrolled among her honored sons. But to the State which gave him birth, and to which he ever acknowledged hislirst allegiance due, his loss is no ordinary bereaver incut. When a good and virtuous man dies, whose generous acts have endeared him to the community in which he lived, friends and neighbors gather around_his bier, and many a tear of sympathy is shod. Hut there is a deeper sorrow felt by those who knew him as husband, father, brother. Theirs is a grief which strangers cannot know; and the habitation which his presence invested with joy is tilled with " inodrning and lamentation and woe." Such is the affliction of South Carolina at the death of the late Hon. John C. Calhoun. Your attention might be occupied with the recital of his illustrious acts?with a history of his high career. The virtues which adorned his character; the profound philosophy which displayed itself in all he said; the utter lorgetfulness of self in his devotion to the interests of his State and country might well form the theme of a long discourse. But these appropriately belong to another occasion. They will be written upon the pages of history?they will be engraven upon the hearts of posterity. You will allow me to turn your attention now to those sacred lessons which most befit the day, and which this mournful event is well calculated to impress on every breast. lfth? first lesson we should learn from this at diction iHi drawn directly from the text, it will tc an acknowledgment of the justice ofGod, and submission to his will. Revealed religion affords the only rational view of the divine nature. While it proclaims the supremacy of God, it exhibits all his attributes in perfect harmony. His benevolence is not lost amid the splendors of his aulick reign; nor his justice forgotten in the exercise ofa?, infinite compassion. His eternal wisdom di.vects his almighty power; and though "his judgments are unsearchable, and his ways past finding out," they are still consistent with his essential goodness.? Though " clouds and darkness are round about him, yet righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne." Unfortunately for us, it is but too characteristic of our fallen nature to murmur at the dispensations of an all-wise Providence, because we cannot comprehend its purposes; and lootismy tojuuge me acts f i neaven rainer man piously tosuhinit to its will. We forget that our frailty should tcacli us our dependence, ai:d that our ignorance should prompt us to faith. When the dearest hopes we have cherished are blighted in an hour, and the props upon which we have leaned are suddenly removed, instead of turning our eyes upward and exhorting our hearts to trust in Cod, we look only to the desolations around us, | and "sorrow even as others which have no hope." We challenge the wisdom of the dispensation | which we cannot understand, and often imviute injustice to the moral Governor of the world. Forgetful that our sins have deserved chastisement, ' we are resistful under the stroke of his hand.? Forgetful of the mercy that gave, we think only of the judgment which has taken away. Our grat itude tor the benefaction we have long enjoyed is f Inst in our grief for its removal: ?pid our thoughts of God are frequently as ungratefu| as they are unjust. Such, my brethren, is the gloom which surrounds us when we cast aside the word ,of inspired truth, and depend upon the uncertain teachings of darkened reason?when we forget ??" Tha divinity that stir* within u?; " that points out an hereafter, "And intimates eternity to man and look only to the brief and little interests that attach to our present state. The brightest illustrations of a fortitude that endurps without cooa- . plaint, of a heroism that triumphs over all obstruction, investing humanity with a dignity mare than earthly, have bten found in those whose faith had based itself upon the word of God, and whose gaze was fixed, not upon the fading glories of this world, but upon that exalted and enduring scene,. " Where Seraph* gather immortality from life'* fair tree. ** The eye of sense can discover in many a dispensation of Providence naught but "shadows, cloud*, and darknessbut the eye of feith, piercing through the gloom, discerns far beyond the allguiding hand, and relies for safety and for succor upon him who dwells in the ineffable brightness.? What though the dispensation be shrouded in mysterious darkness? What though the infinite designs exceed our highest thought?"Shall mortal man be more just than God ?" Shall we charge the Almighty with injustice, because he hath not made us his counsellors? There will come a day when God will vindicate his own administration ?when the results of his present operations shall have developed themselves?when the mind, in its nobler state, shall be freed from the shackles of ignorance and prejudice and error which encircle it here?when truth will assert her high prerogative?when the light of eternity shall shine upon all his works?a d ihen shall every heart acknowledge his justice, hs wisdom, and his goodness.? wjentie sent ual shall have sunk into its own corruption, and the spiritual shall have ascended to its own immortality, then shall the Just One receive universal homage, and the righteousness of God shall be the splendor of his throne. If we consider the relation in which we stand to our great Cretator, it will be the dictate of reason as it is the doctrine of revelation, that we should yield implicit submission to his will; If there is any good use to which adversity may be made subservient, it is the part of wisdom tofind it out A repining fretfulness over misfortune never lightened the burden nor brought comfort to the complaining spirit; but an humbio and pious acknowledgment of the will of Uod, and a meek submission to his chastening*,., have often brought tranquility to the troubled 1 heart, and lighted with the ray of celestial hope the otherwise impenetrable gloom. It is permitted the Christian to regard, every afflictive dispensation either as part of the dis-. cipline by which he is fitted for Heaven, or as. a visitation of mercy sent him in disguise.. *?be restraints which are exercised over human pas-, sion may be painful; nevertheless they are-ne-. cessary and good. The heavens may he eJoAhr-, ed with blackness, yet they teem with fertilizing rains. The thunder-storm mav be terrific ta v t # _ the eye, yet it may purify the noxious air. In the whole economy of nature has God instituted such analogies, that we may learn to trust him in the darkest hours, and under the severest trials of our faith. Deprived of such a eomfort as this trust in God inspires, many a grief wefe too intolerable to be borne? "A night, that glooms us in the noon-tide ray. And wraps our thought, at banquets, in the shroud." Another important lesson which the late mournful event is well calculated to teach us, is the f ailty and vanity of man. Death ought to be at all times impressive; but when he has selected "a shining mark," and his victim is taken from among the luminaries of a land?when the eye of genius is dimmed, and the voice of lift ulnntinnf nrolA* io Uiv ?.1VVJUVII? uittWi AO HUCUCVI 111 CVClldSUIl^ Dllonce, and the isdom of the prudent counsellor has perished? then with what force camo the words of inspiration?" Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich matii glory in his riches." However melancholy it may bo to witness the instability of all human good, the impoteney of man to resist the progress of decay and. the power of death?to behold the bright intel-leetual light extinguished in the darkness of thegrave, and the overthrow of high hope, and noble aspirations; it is well that we should pauseand linger upon the painful subject, for thoughr the countenance* may be madesad,yet the heart may be made better. " The busv scenes in ........ ???? * ? -* ? ?i.n,n ??v n?v: uuiurauy rases up oar inongnw and attention, and it is with difficulty that they are called off to the contemplation of truths that are speculative, and which we consider as stand' ing at a distance from us. The senses, imagv nation, r.od passions are perpetually crowding the mijid with objects of their own, and amidst the noise and tumult of these, the still voice of reason is not easily heard." But when a great calamity has overtaken us, when we stand in the presence of death, and learn that no human skill could avert the blow, no human love prd= IM1PP nvnn ft nnchinnnmonf aI* #U/\ ll%;4 w%.. v ?, M |.vwv|/viivuaviu vi 11IW UUUIllj UIQ united voice of reason and inspiration loudly cry,"tl is is the end of all?let the livr.g lay it to his heart." llow powerful a corrective '? this to the natural pride of man. If in the hour of prosperity he forgets that he is mortal, and imagines that his mountain stands strong, let him consider the day of adversity which shall surely come; for HGod hath set the one over against the other." Let him not look alone at the grandeur of his present state, and be unmindful of the destiny which awaits him; but rather h.c him set his house in order, for he shall I (no aiwi not live. "For he sceth that wise men j diot likewise the fool and the brutish person I perish, and leave their wealth to others," "The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, and that wealth e'er gavo Await alike th1 inevitable hour, The path of glory lead?but to the grave." With how strong an appeal do such reflrc, tions come to us to-day. But the other d? y and he whom we now mourn occupied ^ I among the great men of'<*r *"'it[on a'nd oftho world. Hiswa, ruooar- n';nind_hUnoor_ v " wotrv honorrd him,