Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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"WE WILL CLING TO THE PILLARS OF THE TEMPLE OF OUR I~3EETIES, AND IF IT MUST PALL, WE WILL PERISH AMIDST THE RUINS." SIMKINS, DURISOE & CO., Proprietors. EDCTEFIELD, C., APRIL 20 1859.L For the Advertiser. REVITAL OF THE SLAVE TRADE-NO. XIII. " The war must be carried into Africa." In 1820 the price of Cotton fell, but the South had then lost her manufactures, or at least she had established no now factories, while the North had diverted all capital from most other pursuits to that of manufacturing. The North had taken ad vantage of the high price of cotton and consequent high price of negroes, during five years, to sell her negroes to the South and to establish factories with the proceeds of the sale. But the South, in stead of having established factories by the time cotton fell, was then actually in debt for cotton laborers, bought on a credit a the high prices of monopoly, created by the closing of the slave trade. Not only bad the North profited by the monopoly of the slave market, but she had also tasted tle sweets of another monopoly-namely, the monopoly of manufacturing under the high Tariff of 1816. Therefore, when cotton fell in 1820, the South finding herself without manufac tures, and actually in debt for negroes at high pri ces, was desirous of having a low Tariff. But the North said no; and for the first time the doctrine of a eectional protective Tariff was announced in Congress. But the high price of cotton for five years after 1815 (with the slave trade closed) not only ruined our manufactures, destroyed our shipping and, transferred our commerce to the North, but it also destroyed the culture of Indigo and Flax, which formerly gave profitable employment to negro la bor at the South. We now itaport about S1,000, 000 of Indigo annually, whereas we once exported large quantities of it. The cotton lands of the South are capable of producing as much and as good quality of Indigo as the East Indies, yet we have surrendered the culture and manufacture of it to India, the largest Colony of ourhereditary and implacable enemy who has well nigh an excluaive monopoly of all the Indigo used in the. commerce of the world. British India supplies about $20,. 000,000 of Indigo to other States upon her own terms, and we pay 50 cents a pound for most of what we consume, in place of exporting it, as we did formerly. Had the slave trade never been closed, this humiliating spectacle would never have been presented to the persecuted South. The long continued high price of cotton with no increase of labor from Africa caused it. And 100,00 negroes, fresh from the jungles of Congo, can now find pro fitable employment here in the growth of Indigo, estimating that each one could produce $100 worth. We likewise once grew vast quantities of flax, and it is not a matter for dispute that all the pres ent slave States, which do taut produce cotton, are as well adapted to the growth of flax as Russia, Holland, Tuscany or England. We each year im port about $12,000,000 of raw and manufactured flax. Yes, we import nearly $1,000,000 of even linseed oil to paint our houses. What caused this but the diversion of negro labor from flaux cultuore to cotton culture, when the slave trade was closed and cotton rose so high in 1815 ? Taking the es. timate that each negro could produce $100 worth at least 200,000 Africans are wanted to raise flax for our home consumption; and it is susceptible of proof that 200,000 more of them could compete with the flax-growers of Europe in their own mar. kets. If our negroes can distance all competition in eotton culture, why not in flax culture too? If the slave trade were revived, I make bold to sany that our non-cotton growing slave states would have a monopoly of flax culture within a half cen tury. The South also once manufactured linen cloth and other flaxen fabrics. But, just as the culture and manufacture of flax was becoming an impor tant branch of Southern Industry, the slave trade was closed and cotton rising so high soon after. ward~s absorbed all the flax laborers-destroyed all the flax manufactures. Where now within the confines of the whole United States is even one Gax Factory? 7'o far as I know there is net a sin gle yard of fine linen made from one end of our country to the other. If the slave trade had nevcr l:eon closed, in all probability the South would this day have a monopoly of both the culture and manufacture of flax, and the cotton market would have been glutted no sooner in 1820, or at any time since. The transfer of laborers from the flaz and indigo fields to the cotton patch proceeded only on the principle that the high price of cottoan made one day's labor of the cotton hand worth perhaps two day's labor of the flus and indigo grower. But if negroes could bare then and since been gotten from Africa, the flax and indigo busi ness would not hare begn destroyed, end the South would now have had a monopoly of those two pro ducts as well as of raw cotton. But she lost them, as she did her manufactures, and is rapidly losing her hemop culture too. Noth ing but the fact that tabacco, rice and sugar are commanding as much profit in their culture, as cotton does, even at present prices, p~revents the destruction of those pursuits ; and they will be destroyed unless the slave trade be revived, or un less some other country than ours shall paroduce a large quantity of cotton. One or the otheur rent is inevitable. Even the sale of those idle vaga bonds, the Free Negroes, into slavery after the fashion which Arkansas andi Misasauri are setting the other Southern States, will not permanently .ave eur cotton monopoly. The w orld wants more cotton, and must havs It, upon the principle that *very demand must be surpplied. Nor will mnan kind long permit a day's Labor in aur purstert to pay for two day's labor In another business whi-:h also employs much capital or mnauy laborers, The moment a heavy rise occurs in the price of Mejten our planters invest all the proceeds of tbat cotton in more negro labor, and they actually go in debt to get still more of it. They do so partly through the temptation of~ a long continuued high price for cotton, and partly through coanpualsiona of the limuited and rcstricted. supply of slaves. This excites comi etition among buyers, and then ne groes rise in proportion to the rise in cotton. The price of cotton regulates the price of most other property at the South, because nearly all our capi. tal is employed in cotton culture and its cun-omui tants. Therefore, as cottuu lluctutes ini price, every other kind of Southern property zmust keep it compauy, in all its changes, and especially cot ton laborers, since the value of every laborer must rise or fall with the value of what he produces. Now, whenever a tremseudous rise takes place in the price of cotton, and as the numbecr of dIeves ins this country is limnited by the slave trade being closed, all other branches of S-outherm industr must surrender their negroes to the insperious de mnand of cotteu culture. As so much capital is amuassedi by cven a small advance in the price of cotton, ii is plain that when a great rise takes pla.ce, the ability of the cotten interest So purchase negroes is such that it will drive all other compititors out of the slave market, and that the cotton planters will them compete with each other, until the price of negre labor becomes higiher than that of p~oor uihtte labor, This result is unavoidable as the supply of whit. labor is illimitable, while that of negro labor is it much and no more-a fixed quantity, which nc price of cotton can vary, without a revival of thi slave trade. Wheaexe nosso labor becomes more proitable Eamhie aan~, 5n s 4Dkr 5ch S 1IWBnteAJDn dustry that can dispense with negroes do so, and employ cheaper white labor in their stead. The border slave States have always used negroes mostly for house servants, and to work in the farm during seed and herrest time, which are the only seasons for sovero labor in a grain and stock coun try. Such labor as those States require can easily be performed by whites, and hence their dear no gro labor is always shipped Southward, and cheaper white labor substitued, whenever a great rise-in the price of cotton occurs. In this way the white population of the North is ever pressing South ward and it holds to every inch it gains, with an unconquerable determination to get into the genial clinatre of the South. Population never moves Northward if left free to act, any more than water runs up hill. Only think of Missouri having 10 whites for one slave. Kentucky five for one, and other border States in proportion, with a stream of abolition constantly caving in the banks of slavery, so to speak, and now inundating Kansas, whose Southern boundary is about the same as that of Virginia, Kentucky and Missouri. That stream of abolition is likewise invading the Indian Territory which is in the latitude of South Carolina. It is also spreading over Northtrn and Weetern Texas, far Southward of Carolina. It will furthermore soon penetrate into New-Mexico, since the late law passed by the legislature of that Territory to protect slave property, i i I but serve as a lugle note smmoning the abolition world to arms. Kan sas adopted a whole volume of slave laws in her early history, but what purpose did it serve? Neither statutes, nor Resolutions, nor speeches, can propa gate negroes. A great rise in the price of cotton acts like the breaking of a mill-date in a freshet. The demand for more cotton laborers then becomes so vast and insatiable that a wave of negroes bus to sweep Southward to fill the immense void, and the vacui ty thereby left behind is instantly occupied by a surge of white labor which forever beats against the border slave States, and thus it is that those States are being undermined like a caving break water. Nor dues the evil stop there. The current of negroes which moves Southward to the cotton fields, soon gluts the cotton market which produces as much injury to the cotton States as a stream that overflows its banks does to the neighboring plantations. The cotton planter finds all his money gone, which he had acquired by the late rise in cotton, and himself in debt for cotton laborers at high prices, and the abolition sentiment of the North stronger thin ever. Ile then toils on for years to pay the debts he had contracted for cot ton land and laborers at inflated prices. Hle also cleerishes the hope of a speedy rise in the price of cotton, and will nout therefore undertake other business. In fact. he could not without sacrificiug his property, if he were to sell it, and farmers are proverbial for stabilitr in every thing. They are slow to Cbange from one pursuit to another, and the skill for undertaking a new business is not ac quired in a day; .nd hence they continue making cotton from necessity-from habit-frm hope of a good time coming. By and by a good time does come, cotton again rises by consumption outstripping production, but instead of selling out ble land and negroes, a cot ton planter performs the same rouid he did before, when cotton lest rose. Of course all cotton plan ters could not sell their property at any time, as there would be no one to buy if every one wanted to sell, and it'would be folly to sell as a general policy. But still if the slave trade were open when the great rises take placeo in the price of cot ton, the cotton market would be glutted no rooner tby the importation of laborers from Africa than by bringing thiem from Virginia or Marylnnd, or by absorbing them front other pursuits in the cot ton States. Hence Rhode Island, Conneticut, Now York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania, which were once the border slave States, have abolished slavery without benefitting tho South oine iota and thte present border States are succumbing to abo lition without any resulting good, but with posi tive evil to the South. Yea abolition has progressed with rapid strides, while it has at the same time got all the proceeds of our high priced cotton usurped our manufactures, robbed us of all the emigrant artizane-destroyed our flax and indigo culture-still plunders us on every hand, while It taunts and Insults urn.' It is when the South isa seemingly most prosper ous-when cotton is at its highest price-when negro labor is more valuable than white labor that the institution of slavery receives its severest shocks. Only at four periods of our history has negro labor been more valuable than white labor for any considerable length of time. Otne of these periods has already been enlarged upon--namely 1815-20. In 1825, cotton a aeond time sold on an average in Charleston during thte entire yetar at 21 eta a pound,.when another avalanche of neg-oes came Southward, leaving their places to be filled by white laborers, and another drain was made upon the purse of the South (the proceeds of oal her high priced cottott) to develupe atnd sustain Northurn manufactures. Negroes then sold at$1200 and $l1500 a head, which attracted so uatny of them to the cotton tields, that the very next crop glutted the market attd left the planters hand over head in debt for negroes at monopoly prices. The cotton crop of 1826-7 was near 400,000t bales more thtan that of the proceeding year. The planters then dragged on in the stagnation of a glutted market until 1835-6-7, when a third app'arent niillemnim presented itself. Cotton then sold at 16 and 18 eta, a pound, but the mnney was all spent for mnore cotton laborers at $1500 and $lS800 each. Negro labor again rising above the value~of white labor, caused another %s,,uau of negroes to the South-dfrnen thither by thie high price of cotton and presed Southward by whIte laborers in aciot'datute with the tendlentcy of all population, whIte, black, or copper dolored to move toward the tropics. So many negroes quitted the border States and other pursuits in the cottotn States to enigage in cotton culture, at the tiute of this third millenium, that the crop was again in creased nearly 400,000 bales in one year. Then cotton fell down, low, lower, lowest, until consutnp. tion being stimulated by unminal prices, once more overtook proaduction iu 1850 after the incubus of a glut had rested upon thbu cotton States for 13 years. But finally itn that year cotton a fourth time went to 15 eta, when the South aotually ratn wild after more negroes at monopoly prices, so that the cottun crop of mi- ereceded that of the year previous by near even yt00,tttl bales, which caused the price of it to tutuble down to nothing. liut it rallied the next year since, which time the amount of the crop has remained stationary and the price at a high figure, except during temnpora ry commercial interruptions, cicarly shtowing that the profits upon other kinds of slave labor tare nearly equal those of contton culture at 12 andl 14 eta, a poutnd. Otherwise the cottoni erap would not have remtained stationary for 7 years. Htuwever after the tuoetary crnsh of 1 U7 the wages of white labor fell far below that of negro labor in the cotton field, and white labor oncee more drove negro labo~r f rom the grain and stock regions as well as from other pursuits at the South to the cotton patch, which together with the exceptionally good fall for maturing and gatherinag the erop, are the only solutions which can be given to explaini the great increase of the cotton crop of 1858-9, if it parove so large as is anticipated. One thing at least cannot he doubted, which is that as long~ a negro labor shall remain higher than whits labor, either England and France will prodtwe cttou in *hir dieties. or a steasdy .i a f ..meur~s frc the border States and from other pursuits in the cotton States, will take place, until slave labor shall fall to its normal value, which is below that of whito labor. In lieu of the diversified Agricultural, Manufac turing and Commercial industry we onco had, our employments at the South are fast narrowing down to but one-cotton culture; and if we do not revive the slave trade, it appears recorded in the book of fate, that, after we shall have destroyed every other pursuit at the South, for cotton culture, England and France will destroy that for us. Neither white laborers here, nor the States abroad will allow us to charge our own price for cotton. The principle by which it all will be determined is that there must be eguah'y of profit upon a day's labor in every kind of business, requiring only ordinary skill. That some universal principle of human action, seeking subsistence and luxuries for each one with the least labor of his own hands, has heretofore pulled down the price of cotton labor whenever it rose too high, and the like will occur again, probably no sooner than it would if the slave trade were revived. But how different would be the result upon the South to glut the cotton market by re-opening the trade rather than by drafting negroes from other pursuits or from the non-cotton growing States. SCIPIO. The Independent Farmer. By W. W. FOSDICK. Let sailors sing the windy deep, Let soldiers praise their armor, But in my heart this toast I'll keep, The Independent Farmer: When first the rose, in robe of green, Unfolds its crimst.n lining, And 'round his cottage porch is seen The honeysuckle twining, When banks of bloom their sweetness yield, To bees that gather honey, Hle drives his team across the field, Where skies are soft and sunny. The blackbird clucks behind his plough, The quail pipes loud and clearly; Yon orchard hides behind its bough The home he loves so dearly ; The grey, old barn, whose doors enfold His aunple store in menasure, More rich than heaps of hoarded gold, A precious blessed treasure; But yunder in the porch there stands . His wife, the lovely charmer, The sweetest rose on all his lands: The Independent Farmer. To him the spring comes dancing gay, To hium the summer blushes, The autumn smiles with mellow ruy, His sleep old winter hushes ; lie cares not how the world way more, No doubts or fears confound him; His little Bock are linked in love, And household angels 'round him; le trusts in God, aud loves his wife, Nor grief nur ill may hart her, lHe's nature's nobleman in life The independent Farmer. The Little Ones. A row of Iitle faces by the butt, A row of little hands 50upon the sprend, A row of Ileo roguish eyes ill eloped, A row of little naked feet exposcol. A gentle mother leads them in their i.raiso, Teaching their feet to trend in heavenly way., And takes this lull in childhood's tiny tide, The little errors of the day to ebide. No lovelier sight this s'de of heaven is seen, And angels hover o'er the group serene ; instead of odor in a een~er swung, There floats the fragrance of an infant's tongue. Then, tumnbling headlong into waiting beds, Ienenth the sheets they hide their timid heads, Till slumber steals away their idle fenrs, And like a peeping bud each face appenrs. All dressed like angels In their gowns of white, They're wafted to the skies In dreams of night; And heaven will sparkle in their eyes at morn, And stolen graces all their ways adorn. T IIE F EL L OW C LE R KS. BY IICaBEJFRT LINroN. "have you decided about taking Light foot, George ?" asked a gay voice, as someC e entered the luxurious apartment which was tenanted by George Blandon. The apartment was a large one, and crowd d with the msanifoi appliances of' a bache lor's den. In one cornier stood a massive bedstead, fronm which dependeud rich curtainis, meeting the counterpet which wvas of' the ame texture. Marble- topped bureaus and tbles were covered with every kind of per' umery in gilt and cut-glass bottles. Couches n easy-chni~s stood about in profusion; a rich riding-saddle hung in a corner ; gloves nd fails lay scattered around. It was eidently a room in which no female hand had ordering or arranging--for rich as were the appointmtonts, they were thrown together in strange confusion. The younig manhl addressed as George was a slight yoth1b scarce twenity in amppeanhce. HIs dark, fair hair hung it long waves over is neck and almost reached his shoulders, he face rouned which it clustered would have been handsome, had it not heen for a certain air of dis-sipation, which clouded the blue eyes ad gave a aiinkhlfiand prematurely aged look to the features. The other was olden and seenmingly more self-po~asessed, and with an expression of cenn ning and craftiness in his black, snake-like eye, that would have taught one versed in human nature to avoid the owner, had it not been for an air of thoughtless gaity which was well assumed and sustained. Both were dressed in the height of fashion, 5d( w(ore theLir hiabilitments in an easy, un .,nerne'd and cureless tmanner, as if ulways accustomed to such things ; and yet, had one carel to trace these young men to their real hotes, they would have found only the conm ronest anrd plainest style of' living, stich as b'fits people who barely obtain a subsistence for the present and perhaps a decent coutpc tene for old age. T e father of George Blandon was a me chanic-mch to his mortification, who how ever contrived to keep the fact out of sight as much as possible fromn his associates. George had etntered, some fivo years before, as clerk in a large mercantile establishmient --first as an assistant only, but latterly one of the chief clerks. II is ready talents and quick tact had thus raised hitt above older and better men, who looked upon this super seding with some bitterness, but whose posi tion forbade any complaint. With the facilities thus sown broadcast efore him, and with his aspiring tastes and habits, it was no wonder that George Blan Ion should yield to the temptation of appro priating large sums to his own tuse-not as thefts, let us do him the justice to say, but w ith the vew o rpaying them with his -t..~.a n.....A XM end =iwer nn than George Blandon have been wrcded on the same rock round which he was so care lessly playing. As one expensive taste after another devel oped itself, his passion for money increased, and the luxury of his chambers at the Pavilion was doubled and giagnified, until it reached a princely appearance. While his employers thought that his hor.e was at the pln and modest residence of his father, he was in habiting one more gorgeous than the partners of the firm ever dreamed of possessing.. Charles Renton was his chosen associate. Similarity of tastes and pursuits bound- them together. Renton possessed, however,.a pas sion for play which Blandon did not indulge, and frequently loaned his friend large' sums of money, which Blandon was obliged to bor. row from his employers to repay. Juliana Blandon, his sister, was a lovely and interesting girl, brought up in the titmost simplicity, and lovingher pleasant home with an attachment that no hope of a grander or loftier one could abate.- She and her brother were the only children of Mr. Blandon, who was an unpretending mechanic who sought merely to make his family happy, without the aid of riches. He had been pleased, as was natural, with his son's advancement, little divaming that he was involved in error-George's only pre tence in leaving the house to take up his abode in other quarters being that his home was too far from his busines-. Trusting wholly to his son's integrit., and believing that he only roomed with Charles Renton for convenience at some cheap lidg ing, lie had never troubled himself to inves tigate his place of abode. How would his honest eyes have widened to see the luxuri ous breakfast-service, the liquor-cases, and all the appointments of his son's new home! Such was the state of affairs when Renton burst gaily into the room, on the morning of which we have spoken, and asked him about taking a fine horoe which they had been pre viously talking of buying, and the price of which was four hundred dollars. " Where will you keep him, so that it will not be found out by the Parkers and Your father, in case you finish the bargain?" asked Charles Renton. " Lowe will board him for us, I think, and no questions asked or answered." "Very good. Now for the money !" "Well, I have not borrowed but a few dollars from my quarter's salary, and I hope you have not." " Faith, I am all cleaned out of cash for the next year !* '- How could you be so imprudent? They will ask questions, soon, tuat you cannot answer.1 lAt them. They grind down a fellow to a mere pittanice, and then expect him to live htiestly ilin it. But cune-let u- go and cee Juliann." No, uitarles; whatever you do, you shall not engage .hidiana'., itfections. Soter than that, I would expose your whole style of liv ing to her, and ask Ler if she thougiit you could sup-ort it from your small income alonev." " And why may I not visit her, if she likes me ?" .0 -- " Because my father is bent on her marry ing a young inn.iter whu oince boarded in our lamily, and lie loves his daughter too well to trust her with you."1 "Ilush, Georgel Ibis is coming with an ill gi-ae from you, who have drawn me into .o tuany scrapes." " Well, peruaps you are right; but do not ak no to take you houie with me." -As you like. I do not violate thelaws ol ho.spitality " it h y/ou." I know it, Cha-lei. I would almost think better of you, if you di refi-e to admit mne to the lreetice of your beautiful sister." " Weil, well, we will talk atiout the horse. Goodrich does not want to sell him, but he is shorL of tunds. IHe is such a splendid animal, tat it, seemns too bad not to get bim at such a bargain." That night, the horse was bought with money bur rowed from the saufes of their etu pla.yers, anid lput out to board at Lowe's sta bb-, with an mijuniction not to tell who thbe animal belonged to; and that night, Charles Rentoni visited Juliana .Blandn,in her broth er's abs-nce, and won he-r ;ffectiens to) him self-Mr. Blandon and his wife easily con senting, because he was their son's chosen friend, and, of course, a lit Liver for the daughte-r. George bit his lip in agony, when he heard of this sacrifice, and couhi only trust that something might prvn it at last. 0 s * * * * It was six years after this, that the Blan dons were assenibledl, one evening, in their homely liittle dwelling in the out.,kir-ts of the. tiourhihing town of alonson. Father, inut hier anid daughter were all the-re, and only the son and brother was wanting'. Everiything in the room where they Nit be-tukemed econo my and pbrudhence, wvhile all was scriupoilously iieat and clean. Mi-s. Bilanon rand Juiliana werei braidinig straw. Mr. Uilandon, piast his hard lahor---not fromn age, lbnt from suirrow and ill healh--was splitting the miate-rial as fast as they re-quired~ it. The face of each wore ar sail but patient look, as if gnief had long been tugging at the heart-strings arnd would soon br-eak them down al together. Fow were the spoken words, but each knew well of what the others were t hinking. They were dwelling upon the roeemrances of the past-.of the uncertaiuty of the rate of the beloved son and brother--of the miany canges through which ho aight le called to pass, If judgedl he wer-e yet a dlweller on1 eath, Nothing had been beard of him since the tIu in wh-ich a forgery hadI been comimitted on the P'arkers, sIx years before; aind Charles Renton had disappeared at the same time. Nothing but tenderness was ini ars. Blandoni's heart towards her son. " lie was so yioung !" she sal'l, whben her huisbarid sepike angry words. "Itemnemibei-, dear husband, the child was so young !" "Old enough nut to) break all our hearta for the sake of living better than his parenta did," was the uncoimpromis;rng answer of the sternly honest and upright father. " Think as well as you can, dear father, of them both," said a soft and plaintive voice, as Juliana looked up from her straw, with eyes blindedI by tears. " My poor child !" said the pitying father. " This is doubly hard upon you, and it makes mec feel doubly hard towards those who have made all this sorrow." "And yet, father, should George return, penitent and sorrowful, would you be less a lthier than lie who, in ancienrt timnes, fell upon the neck of the son who wans surLdy as guilty as y-ours has been T' Mr. ]landion wiped away the tears that were now falling faat liver his wo'rk. " Do not let us talk oif this, miy daughter. We miust bide God's tine. If be ,.ends my prodigal back to be, changed anid repentant, who knows that he may not senid a soltenied feeling to nmy heart also ?" " I will trust to thee, then, my dear father," said the gir-l, smiling thr-ough her tears. At mridnighit, thre father lay dIreamning of his son. Sweet t konights like, those which he lhad often indulged in the boty's chilhood -for Mr. lUlandon, although a poor imn, was not destitute of cultivated and even strongly poetical fancies-came over Iris sleeping hours. Again the child was in his arms, a bright, laughing, golden-haired boy, and he was clasping him to his bosom with all a father's sn..m~ 9arpewin, lprp for his first-born hope. His dream was rudely broken, and he felt the clasping arms of his child dissolve and fall away from abont his neck. " Wake, husband, wake !" said the voice of his wife ; and with a strong effort, be raised himself in bed and looked wildly around the dim chamber, lighted only by the feeble light of the night-lamp. " I heard a knock on the outside door. Do see who it is. Something tells me it is George, or that some news of him is at hand. Open the winlow, and speak." Trembling still from the excitement of his dream, Mr. Blandon went slowly to the win dow, and throwing it up, asked who was there. " Father !" The m->on shone brightly, and there, be neath its beaus, stood a figure which, without the voice, Mr. Blandon would at once have recognized as his son. Not worn and squalid and broken down, as the father pictured him to his own mind, but strong and erect, and with the bearing of a man who comes home with the assurance of being received and wel coned ! " Father !" again sounded on the still night air; and hastily throwing on some clothes, and calling Juliana from her slumbers, the parents descended to the door. George entered, anl clasped them alter nately in his arms. ie had just arrived in the cars, and his anxiety would not permit hun to sleep until he had seen them all. Ile told then of his miserable flight, after the crime of which he had been guilty-of the anguish of mind which lie had undergone, in con-sequence of his wanderingi amidst cold and hunger and privations to the distant West, to which be had walked nearly the whole way-of his labor, hard and uitiremitted, by which he had been able to purchase a niall portion of the rich soil, and had increased his possessions, until now he was free of the world, and could count broad acres of hi.s own. He told them, too, that whin far away, with Nature fur his only witness, he had looked back to the miserable life for which he had bartered his innocence. and had found how poor and mean it looked to himia at that distance of time and place. le told them, too, that.he had made ample reparation t:: every one whom he had injured, before he would enjoy a single fruit of his industry that lie had sworn the Parkers to secrecy, preferring that even his parents should not know of his existence, until lie could appear before them honorably discharged from the consequences of his early errors. A question trembled long on Juliana's lips, but she could not bring herself to utter it. Her brother saw her emotion, but before he could speak, his father anticipated the ques tion. Where is poor Charles Renton ?' '- Mr. Blndon had grown muddenly mil and forgiving towards all sinful, erring ones. " le is here, waiting only to know how I am received, and how w, I I c.mn j.kwl or his pardon with my sister." " Let him come," said the old man. " To night let us not hear nalice against any hu man being. By the joy of tli. meeting time. let us receive to our bie.trta all who aie truly repentant. Let him conac to our home. and our hearts again." A bright Itok overspread tI e fawe of Juli. ana-such as had nut been seen there for the last six years; and when Ueorge went (ot and returned with Charles Reitton, . he wel coned himin with tears nid butbe-for it we not the slight, showy, rileminate youtt.hm, wiho left her inl such misery, hut a strongr, hardy. yet gentle looking nimn, whause had hands showed that lie bad laborcd to bring hhnself .31to the paths of respectability and virtue once more. All her early affection for him revived at o cc; nor did the father forbid her to bestow it on one W o e youthful gilt, thl igh miser a ble to remneniber, was evidently blotted ou: bj tie higher resolve of his manitd. As comnpanied by the whole family, Ch..rles went, on time next day, to thme touwn ii here his~ father resided, anid a similar scene took place when thtey arrived. Mr. Riiton wa% a g'ntle, forgii ing man. IHe took his son am once to his heart, forgetting that he head ever do e wrong, mi the great atid unspeakable joy of seeinug him otnce more. " And now," said George, "how soon will you all he ready to go homne with us to the West 1 We have suicient for all. Nio moe e braiding straw, at your age, dearest mnot bier -no more cad tears for you, my si-ter-bhut all shi be happy andi peacel for you. You will niot fhid me, father, ini suich a ltuxu rius r'oim as that in which I parted froii voni on that la-t imierable night, when I wams obliged to flee iroum jumstice-it yon will findl comfort amtI plenty ior your dedcinng years, and a son whose whole life will he too, short to miake up to youu what you heave sniferd. " We will go !" re.'ponded every voice in the gronp ; ad before a mo~nth hadl gone by, the travellers were on their way, rejoieing in the goodness of that Power which mnake% crooked pathls straighmt, aiid turneth the hearts of men from continuaing in evil. In the pleasanit, ckleiring of a western forest, stande four log houses elnstered together biy the side of a sparkling river. ifroadl leod', cultivated to perlfeiti, and yieldIing a tiuuin sand tosld, are spread~ before the ej e ; while beyond, mnagnificenit fore.,ts, depth after depth, invite tue wanderer to penetrate their re cesses. Ihere dwell the fura families, secur~e in each other's affeetk~n, and enjoying all that life can give, with the exception of thle onte remembrance of youthful error, from whichi, perhaps, no life is wholly and' smndre ly freu. iTo theIr chldren they relate the tale as .a warnihig again~st lttlptatltin; and tbe little ones itetiin wonder atidh amagcemnent thtt fathers no goal and perfect as thehrs coultd ever have been h-d astroy,. To B-:sinass Man.-Eery business mani amid mncebeh mie, whao has a proaper apprecia ton of luhe Iinte ihode df dloinig busines<, ought to have i mepressled aipom his imemnory athe fatet that noi main shoeuuld be delicate about askinig flur what is properly his due. If~ he neagleets dinm. so, he is defidiant in the spirit of inde pendeiace which he should observe in all his act on. Iifhts are rights and if not granted, should lhe <imanded. 'The selfish wvorldl is little inclined to give him his own, tutalss he have the manliness to claim it. Th~e h.ck of pro'aper fulhilmaent of this principle las lost to many, fortuine, flame and. reputatmuin. Occasionl lv a eustonmer, who is loss a ..entlemean thanean uipitart, puts on hanghty airs ad affnets to be insilied t teing dumnnead for money' that lie ongmht to have paid long hselbre. No nmatter. The laborar is worthy of his hire. We know it is .unpleasuant to be dlinned, iad esiuality unpleslanitt to dann ot~her people: nevertuelesst ci rc~un:stanices somuet imeIs reiiire thuat we: sub, it to both; hut we wiv be sorry to) get "wrathy'-' at a ima because lie asked us for his own, arnd think a niman very small piotiatoes, who~will fly itn a puassion when we demsad a small bill.-Athens Herald. L:." A llasm" An-ra er.-Adam Slona ker, a numher of years ago, came to Ilimit tingdoum Furnace, anid seeiing tiere, for the first timte, a pair of snmifferet, he asked, " What's them fur T' " To snuff t he candle.'' "To sntf the caundle ?" T1hme candle jns.t then neededl attention, and Adam, with his thumb and finiger pinchedt off the snuff, and carefully poked it into the nfers saying, " Well, naW3 themi is handy." A Chapter of W~it and Humor. "And laugbter holding both his sides." f Tu DEAcoN AND TE Cnrn.-In the olden tines, when it was the custom in New England to sing the psahns and hymns by " deaconing" them as it was called-that is, by the deacon's reading each line previous to its being sung-one of these church digni taries, after looking at his book some time, and making several attempts to spell the words, apologised for the difficulty he ex perienced in reading, by observing, My eyes, indeed, are very blinl." The choir, who had been impatiently wai ting for a whole line, thinking this to be the first of a comnon-inetre hymn, immediately sang it. The good deacon exclaimed with emphasil, " t cannot see -at all." This, of course, they also sung, when the as- I tonished pillar of the church cried out, " I really b'lieve you are betwiched !" Response by the choir: " I really b'lieve you are bewitched." The deacon added, -The wischief's in you all." The choir finished the verse by echoing the last line, and the deacon sat down in despair. 7 TInRE is every reason to believe that old Deacon Dash will take care that there are no outsiders round the next time he preache.: The Sabbath evening meeting at the Ieth odist Church is a faonis resort for the youngz peopa)l eit, incliding the girls. The church don't always take them all in, and some of the boys have to stay under the window outside. I 0oeacon IDash is an excellent iiian ip his I lie is a inoney-lender and "land- I shark," and has au excellent lheul:y in get- t ting "all-fired big rates." Well, the old r man was down for a prayer the other night. t The brethren were putting in the tallest. I kindIs of .1a nmens, and the old1 man11 getting P on a powerf"i. unction, wheti, lifting up his Yoice like western thunder, he roared : Oh, Lord, give us greater iterest in v heaven." " A young rascal outside,under the prompt- e ings of the indmont, in reply, sung out at j the top of his voice, " Hold on, old man, you're in for five per d cent. a uoiitb oonth on here, don't cry out for anything waor..e up tMere!" The deacon diwat ride any higher on that occasioll. kt Orr. system of education f-vors pre conyJV, a< 4 e .,pennen, wihich fuIlw will illio ta te' : A .Mlew. little fellow w'-o had just begun d to I-ad Latin. a.-tom.he-d his master by the fn jolw g t aaion : 1ir, a nan, Gin, a rap) ; bl'irln, a man-irap. Te-cher (to fob Smithers.)~ Spell ad nmt ance. Btob. A-1-init, admit, tance, tance, admit tance. T. acher. Good ! Give the definition. Bob. T wenty-fire cents-nigg, rs and chil. s dren half price-front, seats fur ladies--no b smAokig allowed. SW"? WH EN bad men want to fight, the cha ces are that they will arrange inattrs ml as to grat if) their lelligerei.t incliunations, The creed of the Quakers is peace, but two 1;.aLulul broad-brins coitrived to fight uJoU scriptural atiuhrity, in this wise: Tney grasped oie anotter; one threw anid sat oin t L back uf the other, and mlietging hi., head in the oiatil, .ald 4 0) thy belly lihalt thou criawl, and du.-t shalt thou eat all the days f uy li e.' T,1e other, howfever. s.oon rucovering his position, be.-guia to deal blows against his op. piImet's head, %ayi "lt is wr-it ren. the seed of the woman shall bruiae thbe aerpeid's head." 3-" I-r is not, however, assinust the Qakars' practice to fight with the weapons ei wir and .uircasm, as a certain lawyer who shalil be n.Inneles. d:..cuavered one day, to wit : A cunning lawyer meeting witfh a shzewd ol fienid oa a white horse, determained to quz him. -Good molrning, daddy ! Pray, what makes your hairne ;ook so pade in thle fSee ?" --A my de-ar friend,' repiled the old I mni, ''I i thee hoad looked thbroughi a halhert ,o long, tihec would flok pale too." ?T' A Fona siTerI Ma.-A inan, en dowed with an e-xtr-aordlinary capacity of for gui lulness, was triedl a short timeC ago, at Pari. for vag~abondagei. He gae hi(nam as Ah'nnste Lessive, and bl-ieve'd lhe was born at l$.,nrges. As lie had fargotiten his age,I the r-gistry of births in that e~uiy, fr-om 1812 to led2, wa-s consulted, hut only one per-son of the inme of Les,.ive fial been born there - durig taat timie and that wa< a gir-l. -A ynn.,e your namue is Lessive ?" askedl tiicjai'e. "Well, I thought it was, but miaybe it isnlt? "Ar-e you confdent you were born in Bouraes ?"I "Well, I allers supposed I was, but I shouhiln't wonder, if it wvere somewhere else'." . " Wnere does your family live, at present7?" " I don't knmow ; P've forgotten.") " Can you r-eueinlber ever having aeen your father anid tumthur ?" "1l esgi'L rocoallect to sye oig'self; somer~ t~t'ic I tiik .I have1 andt theti tigini I hoic "WbL!Vlh~t it 0 u fallow 1" " Well, Pim cilbe.- a tatloz' ur a cooper, @*'j for the life of me I etni't tell which ; at auy i-ate, I'm either onul ..u' the other. g A g'entlemanm hAn!%f thait it litefatlifti pre-teiade- wit h C 'a plentiful lac.k of w'it," had b~en seia d with brain fev..er, dlryly observed,11 " . the thing is impo~assi ble !" " Why imo-a po-sib'e ?" asked his inforimant. " Becaus-e,"I was the reply, " ther-e's no foundation for the fever or the report." Mi Tna SELECTION OF A WiFL.-Sam i Slhck, ii his late ".say~ ings," gives bomne ad vice abont the selection of a wife. Says he : l )aon't marri-y too paoori a gal, for they are apt to thinik there is no end to their lifs-i band's pass5; nor too rich a gal, fhr they aiet apt to remobuil you oft it onipleasanit somnetimiesa ; I inar too giddy a gad, for- they neglect their linnieis ; nor too femnre a one0, for they are moi-st nylt to give yout the dodge, race oil; and le-ave you; iior too weak niindedl a one, for chlddren take all their talents from their iiothers." Eg A celebratedl physician said to Lord Eldlon's brot her, Sir William Scot t, rather mor~e flippantly than became the gravity of his profession, -'You know, after forty, a man is always e-ithier a lbud or a phy-sician." The bar-oniet archly replied, in an insinuating voice, "P'erhaps lie iny lbe both, doctor."-Lord B hroughamu's Statesmnen. . . g4 WoMFSts AS Pa:NTRs.-During the search instituted by an editor of the Newark (lland)'1Times for female compositors, it is reported that the following short dialogue took place: Brister-" Mr. Hlenpec, have you ;nt any Aswhiers who would make poad type setters T" Henpec--- No; but I've gof a wife who would make a good devil!" Z~f EXPnRI:thTs show that an electrical shock sufficiently powerful to kill an ox, may be discharged from a straw. Yes, and tumblers of " thunder and light ning," sufficient to kill a man, may be im bibed through a straw.-Evening Post. SMA," said a promising youth of some four or five years, "if all people are inade of dust, ain't niggers made of coal lust." "LE ' On, she was a jewel of a wife," ;aid Pat, mourning over the loss of his better ialf; "she always struck ine with the soft md of the mop." E THE mnn who travels a thou.andl niles in a-thou-and hours, mayl be tolerably luick-footed ; lut he isn't a touch to the roman who keeps up with the fashions. ZC Avoit quotations unles you are rell atudied in their import, and feel heir pertinence. My friend - the other lay, while looking at the skeleton or an usq, rhich had been dug out of a sand-pit, and dmiring and wondering at tihe structure of hat despi-el animal, made i very mwd-adroit sO of one. " A h !" said he, w it h the deepe-t imimmility, and a simplicity wirthy of AL ntaiiie, " we are fearhilly and wonderfully $'" TOTAL DEmt.ver.-The following lorrible tale is from the St. Lomis D)em<:rat. Lead and shudder: "At Ma* er's boarding ouse, on the East side of Second street, be ween Popular and Almond, an unusual mer y wedding came off on Tuesdy night, and he dance was prolonged till past one in the orning. The bridge and groom then re aired to their apartment, bu --qrrisis s! -the bed and bedding had been sacrilegious r stolea from the nuptial b.lstead! Some indictive wretch had gained 1elonious ingress t the rear, and effected a robbery unparallel d in the history or matrimony. It is con ?ctured that so fell a vengeance could only ave been devised and executecf by some isappointed lover of the bride. "Lirea there a man with soul so dead, Who.i never to hinelf hath said, The sentap who stole that bridal bed Deserves to live and die unwed, - With m.idUe 011 to punch his head !" - A aux was waked in the night and )li that lik wife was dead. Ile turned over, rew the coverlet closer, pulled down hi6 ight cap, and muttered, as I.e went to sleep pini: " Au ! how grieved I shall be in the ornig." T HE TH REE HOMES. BY A. 11. HORTON. Chapter Ist.--The Earth. Tread softly, softly as a zephyr breeze, for lie is dying. Stanat not so near her bed, uit let the cool ir from out yon window fan er levered brow. See, she breathes again, he Hips his name-" Willie, Willie, Will h ! she's dead ! Te stars of night have just faded from the ky, and now the fair morning of a new day ilawning, dawning ptmn a dead mother and new born child. The soul of the last, direct r-ioi the Creator, being separate I trom its ri-inal whole, haA ju.t assumed the fleshy enements of earth, while the soul of the first, ted by death from the gross allurements of fe, ho-s winged its fight to the bowers of hi- aboeve, Happy mother ! unhappy child ! the union ai heaven is attractive, the union on earth eulsive. Tue dark, deep and muddy waters f Lfe hloW alaong no golden shores, nor over rytal rocks, reflecting back bright views ud fairy acene.; but they surge with giant irce through the rough anid uneven wmndinga Ia dismal swvamup. where all ja da ath, di-ease ,nd decay. The only bow of promise that pans heaven's broad vault, tinging the web 'f life's existenc-e here and thlere with threads f hope, is the future the last and best humes But igrese. The faint wailings of the ew born child, of the little boy Willie, grow ach minute more and more di.,tnct. With im the great " battle of line" ha~sjust com-. iuenced ; harsh andt unfeeling a< he finds it ow, the present is an elysiuml to what will ucced. So long as he remains upon the -reat stage of earth, either as an actor or as lntener, naught will lie see but misery, rretchedlness and woe. In the great battle f which we speak campj-fires are not pleas t, nior is bivouincing delightful. Streamas f vice, raging with the winds of selhish~ne-t, ae to be croased ; torrents of crime, rushimg rogh the destroying gullies of society, bstruct the course ; and: then, beyond these, tlthe armny to be nmet ; what need I, what an I say of this, its soldiers anid its nmen ? nerelL is hypocrisy, without a whitened sep lchre, and within all is dead imeni's boneS; itre is deceit clothed in the garments of a male Etir, but tru-t her nut, her friends are vet- lost ; anld there, just lie-ide the laat, onpicu'.ns with her baniner flyinig, onl which, you se-an cluely, may be seen the great I Am, stands Self-Loive, a dreadful and a ir-ful enemy. I ktnow thle response of many ih be, these enemies are easily overcome, d then what eidouyment awitis the. aues ull victor. I will not snwer ; itt thce teks stvtard, rI upont tile rock' shitre rm'piy Iet ttis hIFLus.i1M, kid, itbote all, slid ttlore thii all Lt thb~b! :d~staled 1Id ofithie battle of lifb cho with a fterhtil no, that the vidtomrg iu milt (ten o: I':uion, rioting w ith a fiend-liki leantiful. Ilate, scowling and reven;,eful, aves her wand, andl enmity usurps the eign in hearts onice true. V'iilence, hidecous form, as well as mien, has crowds of foil wers, who, at her nod, or beck, enatscenes 'f brutality which would cause any but de non-s incar-nate to blushI with shame. A h! Willie, this world is heartless ; it robs anmd beats, 'tid true, but its pulsations -amie f-rm no fountain, breathing life, activi y, energy or love. And, Willie, you will iid this world lonesome, dreary as a desert, r you live and wvor.-hip the ided, the god ie true and beautiful ; othieru ise, if you ie, and fall into the ranks of vic, governed 1 i paion, hate and vitI--nee, the debanc'ie ies into which you ill he engnlphedl will tng that conscience, which camne pure from he Creattor, woarse thani the adder's bite. Barth, art thou tihe same for wvhomi the stars ung in joy at thy birth ? Art thou that one hich he, who hioldeth in the hollow of his ands the heavens and all that therein is, ironounced well amid good? When man fell ho lost thy goodness, too ; whben hmn Was nrsed, the curse upon thee was the deepest id the heaviest of the two; and what was ne a paradise is now a barren, scoichied lam; and thes garden whlich once blossomed ike the rose is now overgrown with weeds, ith thistles and with thorns. Chapter 2nd.--uThe Grave and Heaven. Years have passed-three-score and ten-. md we agaijn are in a darkened chamber! ! Reold for the last tune our " Willie," nowl ap.s. hi dytin bed. His childhood,hi I youth, his manhood, his olt age; nay WA very life is almost gone. His clustering locks have all been exchanged for "hair all streak ed with grey ;" his soft, velvety cheeks, which once were worthy of a mothers prido, have long ago lost their beauty-their bloom. His brow has became furrowed with care, disappointment and sorrow, and soon, it will be stamped with death! Fainter and fainter does he breathe; fainter and fainter grow the throbbing of his heart ; fAinter and fainter are'the pulsations of life. Even yet his lips move, and his attendant, standing close by, catch the words, " I'm go ing home, I'm going home 1 Earth to me h14 been wearisome, tiresome, dreary, and I gladly die." Suddenly the great clock, standing In the corner, breaks the midnight stIllness, and tells us the hour of twelve has come. Ere the air ceases to vibrate with the harsh sound, the spirit of the dying man is wafted through the diaphanous realms of light to the paradi Aical imati' n (if unending felicity, in tI.o celestial abo o above. Star peals from star, its silent music, and the Lelfry of Heaven re sounds with thediapasonsof its choral hymnu. Angelic beings chant the return of the wandering spirit, and symphony upon sym phony swells, and thrills the thronging host, until, under the- realization of their own heavenly beatification, they prostrate them selvei, and then the commingled orisons of ten thousand spirits redeemed greet the great and mighty God, the archetypal and omniscient being of all. Cherubim and seraphim, with a melodious nem surpaving the "harmunious music of the gliding and revolving apheres," continu ally give utterance to thle anthem, " Holy, .llIr, Holy Lord God of Sabbaoth V" filling the atrehets of the New Jerusalem with their songs of spiritual sweetness, and with the praise of a soul redeemed, re-bought, perfect ed and saved. The spirit of him whom we looked upon at his birth and at his death has overcome the miseries and the woes of earth, the ter. ror and darkness of the grave, and finally ha gained the glories of a Heaven. Dear reader, may your destiny, and my destiny, and the destiny of all- of us be like that of him whose life we have been tracing on this page. May gentle voices from the pirit land silently whisper of the better way. May zephyrs steal from Heaven to breathe way the mist that gathers on the soul in Its earth-wanderings. And when the vesper bell shall toll for us a requiem at night-fall, and the fetters that have bound us to earth shall be brushed away by the light wing of the death-angel, and our knock shall be heard pon the great gate that swings outward into ternity, inay Heaven's dim ainles echo to the j. y ul song-" A weary spirit has gene ome." Senator Hammond on Direct Trade. The Macon ((!a.,) Sade Press publishes the .llowinr letter, addressed by Senator IHam mnnd to Rowell Cobb, of Houston, in re sponse to an invitation to attend the next Wtton Planters' Convention, at Macon: RED CJIFFZ, March -9, 1859. Dear Sir:-L am obhaged to you for your invitation to attend your meeting at Macon, and if my health and engigements will per it, I will attend, but not to make a speech; that is out of my line. I entirely sympathize with your movement. [regard Direct Tradeas absolutely necessary to the independence of the South; without it. she will ever be prohiccaL, though she may omntinue to furnih, as she now does, more of the material of commerce, than any uther population of the same numbers ever did; and materials that constitute the most vital currents of commercial circulai.n, con trolling. In fact, almost the whole. Our drawbacks have been, not the superior energy or intellect of any other people, but Dur shallow bars, yellow fever, and want of mercantile cap tal. Time, I- think, will show that vessels of 1000 tons are as profitable as rger ones, to carry on trade, and these can ten our p -rts. The yellow fever can be wholly evaded by confining our business sea qon to the eight months of the year during which we are exempt. These eight months being those in whbich we can, and in fact do, arry nearly all our products to market, they are naturally our business months, and those best adapted to business and climate such a It is because we submit to the convenience of others, that we allow it to be necessary that there should be a,.y tranlsactionsl from t-e intenior, or ire in abroad, durin, the four poible, yellow fever months. The grand iflculty a as to capital; our means are, for the iost part, in fact almost entirely, em ployed in settling fresh lands, subduing the orets, and furnishing the materials to clothe and feed the world ; in these we find full em ployment for all our mheans and all our ener gy. But this will not always be so, and if te owners of the comparatively idle millions, in other parts, do not soon seek the rich har vest they may reap here, our own surplusage will enable us to occupy that field also. Nothing, I think, is wanting to our South ern counti-y but time, provided we have ca pacity to appreciate, be.'ore it is too late, our uaparalleled resources, and the energy to develop them. I think we have. I have every contidencee in our future, let mere polities take what course and produce what results they may. Southern industry, at this moment the most prosperous of any on the globe, rests also on the securest basis, aud it only requires that it abanld rise to a full appreciation and seserton of Itself, to beenine free, insa ittle time, of all thiose provinclal clog. which sow tuemb.er it, conftbP that I have been devoted to othe Ihtters too titteh to ha~e lsattoi presiBsef the ay in wlili ytlhr Avonlatlion propoew tom eflet t b gI-bt diJj and alt, therefore, jnabIb td Jaidge i.s Li Its prtibtbie resultas; iiit that tlier' IA Ii fry3 Lnd that stccess i li e, I do not doubt: Very reepcctfully, yotti tibedieht servant; IIowKrLL Coas, Esq. gg-It is perfectly well understood, or it nt, it should be, that almost any hutsband would leap into the sea or rush into a horning edifice to rescue a perishng wife. But to anticipate the eonvenience or happiness of a wie in some small matter, the neglect of whielt would lie unobserved, is a more elorstent proof of ederness. This shows ? mindful fondness which wants oedasions in which to express itself. And the stmaller the occasion seizeh, the inore inteusely affectionate is the attention paid. Tiua WAY Tusr Srurrts rr Is DErAwaaE. -The Georgetown, Del., Messenger says last week the wife of a man in Dgborough Hundred, Del., left her husband, and with a ing man took up her residence in Milaboro. 'he husband madelos appearanc~e one day, and the two men proceeeded from the house and sat down upon a log and calmly talked the matter over, regarding it in all its bear ings . The result was, that the young man who was in 'osession of the trife agreed to give the lawiul but injured and forsaken hus band, the sum of seven dollars and a dog for his wife. Thus was the diflicult and danger ois business compromised to the full satis faction of all pfarties concerned, and the for mer husband, having abandoned all- right, title, and-elaim in favor of the lover W&da his departure immediately.-Iichzeni Dlii