University of South Carolina Libraries
17-V IDGEFIELDDT a s3eMocratit onurua, totes to Soutt4ern 3sntijs, Netus, AouucevnernaI intetIece, Etetit, iOralit& teargerner agetettur, see. "We will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of Owr es, and Wit must 611 we will Perish amidst the RUins . F. DUERISOE, Propreer- EDGEFIELD, S FEBRUARY 27,1851. vo,.xvr.. WRITTEN FOR TIE ADVERTIER. THE LOVER'S PRAYER. I've felt the balmy breath of spring, 13earing on its airy wing, 'The soft and gentle notes of love, Low m urmur'd by the cooing dove,' Whose sounds produce upon the mind A sense of pleasure undefined. I've felt the summer's glowing sun, As on the track his courses run, I've-felt his light and heat, a shower Of genial life infusing power Like God's etherial throne above, From which flow light, and life, and love. I've felt the mild moon's winter light, Whose gentle ray illumes the night, And, spreading over hill and dale, Enwraps the earth, as in a veil A softly flowing veil of white, Which ebanges darkness inte light. Ah, God I pray thee, let this be The emblem of my destiny: That in the spring time of my life, Sweet BET may be to me, a wife Breathing the balmy breath of love, More'gently soothing than the dove. And when life's summer rolls along, And the world's troubles round me throng, Oh God, I pray thee, let her be A cheering sun of love to me Imparting strength and giving joy Which nothing may, on earth, destroy. And when the winter's chilling blast Proclaims, that life is nearly pant, Oh grant, that in her noble mind, A gloom-dispelling light I'll find: Thus, guided by her angel hand, I'll reach the eternal, Spirit Land. ANACREON. A Iketch from Life. "You are a good-for-nothing lazy ras cal," said an exasperated farmer to his son, Obadiah Davis. "You ain't worth the salt of your meat to me. You have neither watered the horses, nor fed the --pigs. There's Sal, scolding down stairs, because there's nn wood cut for the oven; and you have down, and the bor Humphr lazy, good-f. sight." Mr.:Davis v lastadjectives.' were rendered mich mot o. the hearty cuffs with which each one was accompanied, and the last explanatory push, which came from a hand brawny with fifty years labor, formed a hint not to be-mistaken, that the negligent youth's company was no 19nger wanted. Obadiah was a lubberly-looking fellow, about seventeen. He bore the beating with a good grace, the necessity of which frequent experience had inculcated; and, without saying a word to his irritated pa rent, he went down the lane-a neglect of the bars of which had formed one of the counts in the declaration against him -and sat down on a stone, ini a little grove of trees by the side of a brook, whose waters swept rapidly over their sandy bed, and filled the air with fresh ness and music. He ruminated a while, with his under lip out in a pouting way, which, with him as well as others, "was a sign of some internal agitation. "Yes," he exclaimed-for wvhy should not farmers' boys address the groves and invoke the rural spirits, as well as Teoll or Brutus! " Yes," says Obadiahi, drawing the sleeve of his coat across his mouth, with more of a viewv of comfort than grace; "yes, I'll be darned if I stand that 'ere any more. I ain't to be beat like a dog all my life, and I think I may as wvell give dad the slip now as any other time. I'll tell him on't. If lhe's a mind to give me a trifle, so much tihe better; if he han't, he may let it alone." It wvas about two days after the prece ding events, that Mr. Davis was surprised by the apperance of his soln, apparen1tly equipped for a journey. Hie stared at him a moment, partly silent from displeasure, and partly from surprise. " Well, father," said Obadiah, wvith some hesitation, " I'm come to bid you good bye." " To bid me good bye, you fool! Why, where are you going ?" "I am going to seek my fortune in the world, father. I knowv I am of no use to you. I think I can do almost as wvell any wvhere else. I can't do much wvorse, ait all events. So I am going downu to York, or somewhere thereabouts, to get along by myself." Mr. Davis remonstrated with the young adventurer, but found himi firm in thle pur pose which he hlad, it seemied, been a considerable time in adopting ; and, after much useless persuasion, with a voice softened by the thoughlt of their approach ing separation, he asked hliml what course he intended to pursue. " I am going to study lawv." " And how are you to be supported while you are following your studies ?" " I guess I'll teach school," answered Obadiah, with the gravity of a saint. The old man, in spite of his sorrowv, could not refrain from laughing at the thought of his young unsuccessful agri culturist, retailing wvisdom and knowledge to tile rising generation, or pursuing the rnbile shadows of instice through the mazy labyrinths of law. He looked al him with increasing wonder. There hI was, with his brown coat and linsey woolsey trousers, his hair combed straighl over his forehead, and standing in th< most awkward of attitudes. But Oba. diah, it appears, had made up his mind and was not inclined to return to his oh] employment on any terms. lie. there. fore, bade his father good bye, and alsc his siiter Sally and the cook. A shor walk over the farm afforded him an op. portunity of performing the same tender duty toward the horses, the pigs, and the old cow. All things being at length set. tied to his satisfaction, lie started on his way. The poultry were gathering on the roost, and the old dog Ciesar came after him, wagging his tail affectionately, and entreating eloquently, but in vain, to ac company his master on his novel expedi tion. Many sensitive folks would have yielded a few soft regrets to the quiet and really beautiful spot he was leaving, per haps forever. But Obadiah never dreamed of regretting what lie was doing of his own accord. He cast, therefore, only a slight retrospective glance upon the scene (if his boyish pains and pleasures; and, having surveyed it a moment, with one eye shut, commenced his journey, whist ling Yankee Doodle. The disadvantages under which lie la bored were immense. Without educa tion, and totally destitute of experience in the fashionable or literary world; friendless, and almost penniless, he was to make his way among those who had enjoyed proper instruction an( high friends from their birth-who had been ushered into public life with the honors of college, and who could scarcely regard the quiet, plain and retiring country boy, except with smiles and derision. His advantages, however, were not dis regarded by himself. He knew the strength of a mind which had grown up in the solitude and quiet of iature's abodes, unweakened by the dissipations of fash ion, and untrammelled by !he fetters of a bad system of education. le knew that he had great difliculties to struggle against, ninst depend upon himself well as the graceful youth, wnose uanu soinely turned periods excited so much pleasure, and whose attic wvit produced such frequent bursts of merriment, seemed whilling away the hours delightfully, in all the charming familiarity of high life. A ringing was heard at the door, and the servant announced Mr. Obadiah Davis, who accordingly walked in, with his hat on, and, with considerable elibarrassment, proceeded to business. The politeness ever attendant upon real gentility, prompt ed the company to restrain their disposi tion toward mirth, whilo Mr. Davis pre sented his letter of introduction, and tihe gentleman was perusing the same. But when, after having finished and folded up the letter, Mr. Chatterton introduced Mr. Davis to the ladies as a gentleman from the country, whose intention it was to pur sue the profession of the law, the lurking smiles curled their rosy lips ini spite of themselves; and Mr. Chatterton himself, whlile lhe performed the necessary duties which the etiquette of the day required, added to the good humor of his fair and mnerr-y companiions by a w~ink, which did not pass altogether unobserved. Mr. Chatterton complied with his re quest, which, upon the reconmmendation of a friend, Mr-. Dav-is had made, to lie allowed to file his certificate in the office where the young gentleman, under the instruction of his father, was also study - big la.L Time passed on. Chairles Chiatterton, in thme full possession of an ample fortune, aind surrounded by the blandish unents of life, found a thousand thinigs to charm him from his office, lie was young, gay and wiitty'. Ihis society wias courted by all his acquaintanice of his own sex, and among the fair and fascinating of the other, a heart like his w~as sure to find joys too delicious to be yielded for the drudgery of a lawvyer's office, or the re nmote hope of future fame. lie loved music, and its notes welcomed and deC tained him wherever lie wvent. Dancing was his delight ; and there w~ere snowy hands wvhich lie knew lie might have for asking, and bright eyes to flash upon him when lie did ask ; and how could he turn fmrom witchieries like these, for the dusky v-olumies of antiquated law ? lHe w~as an enthusiastic adlmir-er of nature, and she wooed him in a thousand ways from his tedious task. 1Her breath was fragrant upon the air, and her voice came to him in winning tones in every breeze. It w~as impossible for him to turn a deaf ear to her enchantments; therefore lie walked, sailed, rode ; sometimes lie wandered forth in the morning, to witness the rising sun; and again, in the summer night, the moon would lure hini out from the unhealthy lamp, to roam with loved ones beneath her ray-s. No w, during all this time, little Obadiah was busy as a bee. Hie had takeni a svhoot. which occunied part of his time, and the income enabled him to defray his expenses. Nothing called him from his duty. The moon shed her silvery radi ance in vain ; and he had seen the sun rise so often, that it had lost its novelty. His feelings were not awakened by wan dering afections, nor was his clear and calculating brain disturbed by the intru sive visions of fancy. Nature, art, beauty and fashion went on with their various revolutions and adventures, without affect ing him-his time was devoted to study, and he knew no other pleasure. Ten years passed away, and brought with it,as usual, many unexpected changes. Charles Chatterton, the lovely, the ele gant, the mould of fashion and the glass of form, had been left in poverty by the failure of his father. Bred up in the lux uries of life, and unprepared to meet its ruder scenes, he was inadequate to sup port himself. His fine but effeminate spirit broke down, and he lives in poverty, neglected by his friends, and awaiting a miserable death. Obadiah, on the contrary, has succeed ed beyond expectation. His skill and knowledge have acquired for him a high reputation ; and he is rapidly amassing a fortune, which he will doubtless know how to keep as well as to obtain. His man ners, too, have become polished during his commerce with the world, and the rough and awkward country lad is now one of the richest and most celebrated lawyers of one of the first States in the Union. His influence is visible upon a large por tion of society, and he has refused many offers to send him to Congress. What a pity it is that the fine and delicate enjoy ments of our nature are so often incon sistent with worldly success, and that wealth and fame must be sought by so many sacrifices of feeling and affection. F. The Infant's Appeal. A BRIEF DUT THRLLIiG SKETCI. In the year 1836, the inhabitants living in a district bordering on Rock River, in the northern part of the State of Illinois, were much incensed by the depredations of a band of horse thieves who infested that portion of country. Every exertion --A fn diennvar the men en Woun up . suWn . . that a body of men were formed styled Rangers, whose explicit duty was to ex punge the district of all suspicious char acters, and endeavor to put a stop to the depredations of the horse thieves. Shortly after this band commenced op erations, word was conveyed to the leader of the Rangers that a valuable horse which had been stolen the night previous, could then be found on the premises of a man named Burt locked up in the stable. Although Burt heretofore had been look ed upon as an honest man and an upright citizen, yet the Captain deemed it his du ty to at least examine his farm and learn the truth or falsity of the report. Accordingly lie summed some half doz en of his Rangers to meet him at a spot not far from Burt's house, and before morning, set ont for the same place him. self. Daylight wuas hardly discernible in the east, and the hazy light of coming dawn had not yet penetrated the bottom, where the suspicious man resided, as the Rangers charged with the fearful mission of life or death, silently approached, and surrounded the dwvelling. Leaving three of the band to guard the entrance, the Captain proceeded with the others to the stable, broke open the door, and found the missing horse, as had been stated, safely stalled inside. Not a lingering doubt nowv remained of Bui t's guilt, and with a stern determina tion to make such ani example of him as would deter others from a like transaction, thme Rangers returned to the house. In the meantime, Burt had arisen, and com ing to the door, was seized by those in waiting, and upon demanding the reason, was informed that a stolen animal w~as found in his stable, and that he was con sidered a thief. Muttering something about "lie knew t'would conie to this at last," lie quietly submitted to wvhat ever his captors had ini store for him. A short consultation was held, and it was resolved to hang thme criinal~ upon a large olin tree that grew in front of his own house, it being deemed tha~t such an act wvould strike terror and dismay into the ranks of horse thieves. Burt hind asked half an hour to prepare for his death, and the sun had riseni in all his golden majesty, ore the fatal moment had arrived wvhich would launch him iinto eternity. In vain had his grey-headed fa ther and mother plead for his life, with trembling tongues-the old lady tottering forth from the dwelling, aiid kneeling, in suppliant mioodl to his apparently merci less captors. hin vaiin had the wife of his bosomi knielt in tears of agony, and en treated them as husbands to spare his life -for each Ranger had suffered more or less in person, and they deemed thme ex ample absolutely necessary to deter others, and it seemed as though Burt must die. The dreadfnl preparatioiis were comple ted-the half hour had exnied-.and the criminal was ged under a limb of a stout elm, dvetz ch a -rope was thrown, one end being iin"sed around the prison er's neck, and f- other held by three of the Rangers. Then cameoa oment of dreadful si lence; that aw. tillness, which preludes the launching a fellow being into eter nity-while th ree strong men who held the rope's id, gazed fixedly upon the Captain foi- signal. It was given by raising thel arm; and already the noose was ti hd around the doomed man's neck, wNie e wife of Burt issued forth from the, holding an infant, a I little more thanA r old, in her arms. Rushing f - she fell on her knees 1 directly in fron .the Captain, and rai- i sing the child A :arms outstretched, to. wards him, sho, laimed in tones that would have pierc a heart of steel: "If you. wil . pare him for the sake I of his grey hai res, or the wife of his bosom, spare the name of God, for I the sake of his t boy!" Another dead ce reigned like a pnll 1 over the spot ,4 as though inspired by 1 heaven itself, th d also stretched out its little arms to s its father, and ex- I claimed, in a yo ard by all, the sin gle word: " Father!" : "The muse! the Captain's face quivered in ever ie, and the men who c held the rope al relaxed the pressure c around the neck art! when the infant I again uttered in nct tones: " Father! fai And then, as- h despairing of suc- F cess, huddled in other's bosom, and f burst into a sob y. It was morme., .the Rangers could stand, and after ot consultation, the rope was takef e criminals throat, e and the band le : spot; and Burt be. came a reform 'through the power- c ful effects of f'r Appeal.- 1 Columbian and est. From !Bmch. Mothers, in U the thousand e responsibilities- ch to Your bigb e calling,t hink f 4and 'ask your'-s illar; many mothers totally abstain from f, the beverage, never allowing it in their ) presence as one of the household things, n yet the subject is rarely mentioned in the v presence of the little ones, and they grow fi tip in ignorance of the miseries caused by ( this monster fiend, And therefore, unsus. c pecting and inexperienced, fall an easy (. prey to those wretches whose delight is b in the ruin of the good. c Talk to your children about the horrors e of intemperance; let no day pass, if possi. F ble, witrout some familiar illustration, u some wholesome advice, or gentle saru. h ing. Carry them iherp the drunkard u hides, for unless f miliar with sin by u knowledge of its existence, we may be h by sore and bitter experience. Never yet them tobjectise ta e chionedn the a prsenc or lauhe atthe ones, antic ofhey hrwf upoo inbioane o thoutiseries as ti raterethayuing bandy inexerenedmall eay preyntotse owlvringhes hem dlicen sb qnte yr exampe giod afeeeas BTter to appr hilar an u nf hoor iblle winhot somfeingiliar fiensraion, 1u than weeboken atd, or te wla ing. forrhm whcerune caed our a firdeso beutiflessy familiaromithi by thenowied ou sexsne sheimy ble h byforer. Thesera exeritehn Nevro po carite. about buwfitht notweetmasti frthe itllanky usebad in ma in<I stantites for fapprting ifte icanrs, quthe myoexle iswt alter goodrs. lya cweepha erenagdetrotedo-t wod om whave kept tncei caleour o fair ocan beatifls, and uad frohic thae reowunded yesou h siegl voies for er.oTese may thsetey lovtedthng t buncarefg aou ouf it preiou nes bee foWe lleark will ued i many inogh stances byeaprdent aginsgnifican whormlook upnthe manynol ships ith al heirood lyv cresothat, aeen antgBo pesryd in Miourioda hae supeeit s upont pleocean atthesulndthuad off Snorilf heection houghilejoinginthetom efats ofv Besonde aye o the swety oices adeloeseet of thoset ey er.oved. undyingous hoeeo the preios ones' a Weno eare d anod theciy ilthumiht- C ins ther acoutalefolteeeribe Wcrimes recordeda anosewho " ok uonlthe iewhen 155 inhabed." s h3 -0 vNev Dmochsran rernti-edntn haer int I Missrti n ho stben upnehtis yotzno et alease ato thenesl. fteSeaoil Conversational Powers. The late William Hazlitt, a man gifted with great powers of observation and ex pression, was of opinion that actors and authors were not fitted, generally speak ing, to shine in conversation. 0 Authors Dught to be read, and not heard ;" and as to actors, they could not speak tragedies in the drawing-room, and their wit was ikely to be comedy and farce at a so tond-hand. The biography of men of etters, in a great measure, confirms this pinion; some of the greatest names in English and French literature, men who iave filled books with an eloquence and ruth that defy oblivion, were mere mutes )efore their fellow-man. They had golden ngots, which, in the privacy of home, hey could convert into coin bearing an mpress that would insure universal cur ency; but they could not, on the spur of he moment, produce the farthings current n the market-place. Descartes, the fa aous mathematician and philosopher; .afontaine, celebrated for his witty fa les; and Buffon, the great naturalist, vere all singularly deficient in the powers if conversation. Marmontel, the nove ist, was so dull in society, that his friend aid of him, after an interview, " I must o and read his tales, to recompense my elf for the weariness of hearing him." As to Corneille, the greatest dramatist f France, he was completely lost in so iety-so absent and embarrassed, that e wrote of himself a witty couplet, im orting that he was never intelligible but irough the mouth of another. Wit on apers seems to be something widely dif .rent from that play of words in conver ation, which, while it sparkles, dies; for ,harles I., the wittiest monarch that ever at on the English throne, was so charm- I d with the humor of "Hudibras," that e caused himself to be introduced, in the haracter of a private gentleman, to But -r, its author. The witty king found the uthor a very dull companion; and was f opinion, with many others, that so tupid a fellow could never have written D clear a book. Addison, whose classic legance of style has long been consider d the best model for young writers, was yr, and. absent in society, preserving, ... ,,u nun to nave oeen a aenght 1 companion among intimates; and oung writes of him that " he was rather mute in society on some occasions, but rhen he began to be company he was ill of vivacity, and went on in a noble :rain of thought and language, so as to ain the attention of every one to him." oldsmith, on the contrary, as described y his contemporary writers, appeared in ompany to have no spark of that genius hich shone forth so brightly in his works. [is address was awkward, his manner neouth, his language unpolished: he esitated in speaking, and was always nhappy if the conversation did not turn pon himself." Dr. Johnson spoke of im as an inspired idiot; yet the great es iyist, though delivering oracles to those t round him in pompous phrases, which ave been happily described as spoken in to Johnsonese tongue, was not entitled ibe called a good conversor. Nearer to our own time, we have had I lany authors whose faculty told twice. ] heridan and Theodore Hook were fel m>ws of infinite jest ; they could " set a ble in a roar," and fill pages with pathos I nd wit of such a quality, that it makes I icir survivors think " we could have 1 ,ared better men." Burns was famous for his colloquialr owers; and Galt is reported to bave been s skilful as the story tellers of thec Esast Sfixing the attention of his auditors oni is prolonged narrations. Coleridge wns< a the habit of pouring forth brilliant un- t roken monologues of two or three hours' uration, to listeners so enchanted, that,< ke Adam, whose ears wvere filled with I se eloquence of an archangel, they for-< ot "all place-all seasons and their t hange ;" but this wias not conversation, nd fewv might venture to emulate thatr old man eloquent" with hopes of equal< uccess. Washington Irving, in the account lhe< as given of his visit to Abbotsford, says f Sir Walter Scott, that his conversatijon< ras frank, hearty, picturesque and dra matic. He never talked for effect or dis lay, but from the flow of his spirits, the 1 tores of his memory, and the vigor of1 is imagination. lie was as good a lis meer as a talker; appreciated every thing hat others said, however humble might e their rank and pretensions, and was1 nick to testify his perception of anyi oint in their discourse. No one's con-i erns, no one's thoughts and opinions, no1 ne's tastes and pleasures, seemed be eath lhmn lie made himself so tho oghly the companion of those with rhom he happened to be, that they forgot, or a thme, hi's vast superiority, and only ecollected and wondered, when all wvas ver, that it was Scott wvith wvhom they gdf been- oi such familiar terras, In wvhose ociety they had felt so perfectly at ease. -Ch.-mbhers' .Jnernn f Society' North- and Sodth. One of the editors of the New YorI Day Book, who is at present on. a can. vassing tour through the SoutlierrnStates draws a parallel between the social con. dition of the two sections, which is nol flattering to the North, and less so be. cause of its truth. " It is said and verily believed in the North, that slavery is wrong and tends to immorality. How far this is so, may bo seen by the facts which I shall here refer to. It is a well established principle that the commission of one crime tends to another; that a man who habitually vio lates one of the fundamental laws of sound morality, will not scruple at the- others. An habitual drunkard will lie,. a liar will steal, and a thief will swindle and murder. Now then, if slavery is sinful, the slave holder is a sinner; therefore the conclu sion is that all in the South are sinners, and of course moral character does not exist. Now for the facts. " 1 am not going into the statistics of crime, but simply to state what my eyes have seen and my ears heard, or rather what they have not seen and heard, as well as what is very well known and ad. mitted. I have been. in the slaveholding States a little over a month, I have trav led nearly two thousand miles by rail. road and steamboats, have staid all night md a great many days at hotels. I have een in bar rooms, in drinking saloons, in roceries, in bowling and billiard rooms, n plantations, and in private houses of he master and the slave, and I have not ieen one solitary individual drunk or in oxicated. I do not think that I ever ravelled a hundred miles in New York vithout seeing a drunkard. I have not eard from one of the laboring people an )ath. I have not seen a quarrel or a fight -in short, I have seen nothing to indicate hat the people were not only strictly noral, but religious. As for profanity, I hink that there is not one quarter as much ,ven among gentlemen as among us. In eality, if I hear a man swearing a good leal, I have come to look upon him as a 'fellow citizen," and am pretty sure to ind him a Northerner. The SamSa e-ardpd - - , VuiKruptS, for ;ers, swindlers, public defaulters, and I hink in one instance a common thief. 5he has sent to her State legislature coin oon rowdies, blacklegs, gamblers, debau hees and drunkards. Her representa ives and legislators are notoriously im. noral and disreputable men. Not all, of ourse, but a good share of them. The bolition districts between Albany and luffalo have done the worst, but all have een bad enough. Her office seekers ave been greater in number than all the tates South of her put together, her de. nulters more numerous and her office elders worse men than anywhere in the Jnion. She has had more government atronage and done more government windling than a!l the Southern States put ogether. Yet amid it all and with It all er chief demagogue and head devil gets p in the Senate and preaches to others ipon their obligations to a "higher lawv." suppose the fact will be got over soe ow or some way by the devil's imps, but should like to see them try it. " Nowv turn to South Carolina or Geor ~ia ; where do you find a man notoriousa y immoral elected to arty resp~onsible or onorable office 1 Such a thing has never reen known. On the contrary, a man vhose private character in South Caroli a is not above reproach cannrot be elect d to office, They are quick and impet ions and ready to resent an irnjury or an nsult with the sword, but there is nonte f that underhanded, sly, calculating, reacherous, assassin-like way of creeping bround and taking advantage or a man's onfidence to stab him, nor of the pick ocket plan of waiting for a "good hance" to rob him. If~ we turn from heir pub~lic men to those in the ordinary valks of life, the comparison is quite as nuch in their favor. One example is nough for my purpose. In the city of Jolumbia, S. C., you cani go at any time f night to the public market and find neat hanging in all the butchers' stalls mtirely unprotected by dogs, watchmen r locks. One might take down a steak r a roasting piece or a whole quarter of eef and carry it off and the owner would e none the wiser.' But it is not done. ['he negroes are not allowed to be out Lfter eight o'clock, and white folks don't teal. They respect not only the higher )nt the lower law. Dare Gov. Seward's >ious followers, Goss and Sartwell, for nstance, trutst their property in Auburn, ingruaded, after night fall? If they lare, their neighbors dare niot. As for cburglary, larceny, rob~bery, forgery and ther States prison oirences, they area nest unknown here: there is not one t~o Imndred hrv New York. Howv thenm in the race of these facts can it bo said that sla rerv has an immoral tendlencyi I haive not locked my trunk, for I have lost the key, or room door since I have been here. I hae slept in a room at a hotcl with gentlemen- who have-lkid thei' gold' wat ches on the mantel shelf and hung, their coats with hundreds of dollars in the poc kets on the chairs,. and gone to bed with out evet sliifting the door. A feeling of. confld'ence and security. exists. which I have never se-en- before in any commu; n1ity." A Rich Mai. A correspondent in the Richmond Whig gives some interesting items concerning tfie' richest man in Virginia.- Mr. Samuel Itair ston, of Pittaylvanin, is the gentleman. Two' years ago he was the owner of betweeffd teen and seventeen hundred slaves, in lis. own right, having but a little while before tW ken a census.. He has also' a prospectire' right to about one thousand slaves more which are now owned by his mother-in-law, Mrs. Ruth Hairston,- he' having married liar only chi. lie now has the management of them, which makes the number of his'slaves reach near three thousan& They increase at the rate- of one thousand every year, and he' has to purchase a large plantation every year to' settle them on. A large number of his plantations ate in Henry and Patrick counties, Virginia. He has large. estates fin North Carolina. His landed property ink Stokes alone is assessed at six hundred' thou'' sand doliars. Ilis wealth is differently esti mated at from three to five millions.. would think he has a hard lot;.Nft Nr. Hait-' ston manages all his matters.as easy as mot persons would an estate of ten thousand dolk lars. He has overseers who ate compel'esdto give him a written statement of what is madE' and pent on each plantationindhls negrees AP are all clothed and fed fom his own doeas tic manufacture and raising, leaving is t& bacco crop, which is immnsely li'fge, is o much clear gain every year,' bsmi his in-' crease in negroes, which is a forta'ie of itelt His residence is on a scale correspbAd9 'ir his wealth, at least as regards his. gaidealse grounds, &c., which are said to be very-beaW tiful. ne, I'm in arnest." A crisis is riz! And it is wakin up the' free onterrified suvrins of these ere did more survrin States to the reskew! There's a musterin of nations, A wakin up of snalces' The devil's broken out agial And all erealion shakes, fir view of this alarming state of ar-' fairs, Ethati Spike conjures his fellow citizens of Hornby to come to the rescue, and concides his eloquent appeal with this emphatic sentence.-" On! then, fel. ler-citizens" says the speaker-Onwards! and let the ivatchward be-" Webster, howman rites, and d-n a nigger!" We understand that Mr. Spike goes for Unioir without regard to office neither being a candidate for President or Vice President. A VARNiNG Vcat.i.-/Jle I1on. James K. Paulding, one of the wvisest and purest men of this country concludes one of his' recent communications to the Southern'r Press under the signature of " A Northerrr man and at friend to the Union" with this solemn and emphatic warning: A " I have lived almost fmursco're years, I have passed throgh every grade of lify from that of a poor boy,. self-educated and seif-dependant to a station among the highest of the larfd whfelr I attained trithout the sacrifice of nmy Independence. " During the whole of this pilgrimage, I have been fromt habit and inclination' conversant with books, anrd have thus4 added to tiio experience of a long lire thy lessons of the past; and from this experi~ once, and those lessouis, I am inevitabI' 1sro'ught to the conviction that the people' of the South have irow nothing to deend on for their futuro safety but. tr~ted action in self-defence. By this they will presorte themnsefves and the Uniouy. AlF other hopes are idle all other expedients but daggers turned against their own bosoms. They must assert their owa rights, and protect themselves, for threy have no other protectors. The brand of fanaticism is applied to the homes of the people, and must be quenched now or never. Time tcas-time is-but 6ime will soon be no more." S, C. COLLEGE.-It wil bM gratifying to the friends of this cherished institution of our State to be informed da~t the health of the President, Col. Preston, is gradual-. ly but steadily imiproving,- even under the pressure of duties unrelaxed and unin terrupted. A ware of the great interest felt throughout the State on this subject, the information is imparted at the present time, amd we doubt not it will be received with gratification.-Carolinian. A LITrL boy hearing his father say " There is a time for all things," climbed up behind his mother's chair, and, wihis poring in her ear, asked--" When w~as the proper time for hooking sugar out of thn sugar bowl!I"