Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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f ~ w Vj. -at - "* ~.*Wk '" ^ *? ' '**" >*%*' ' - " jrf?'- ' JBSBT^ * 7"~" I * ' \ * ? > ;J^ jMWr * S'lf'Sii,j^P"'1 1 An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. |lewism.oeist,pummw. VOL. 2. YOBKVILLE, S. O., THUBSDAY, AUGUST 21,1856. NO. 34 (Ljwtf A HEART TIIAT IS TRUE. Oh! give me a heart that is true, That will cling through the changes of years, And solace when sorrows pursue. And oomfort in sadness and tears, The spring-time of life is soon o'er, And friendships are fleeting and few ; Amidst hopes that may brighten or lower, Oh, give me a heart that is true. Oh, the dawn of to-morrow may bo A joy amid gardens of bloom, But evening and darkness and woe, May meet and embrace at the tomb; A shadow may full on the flower, A blicht where our proudest hopes grew ; Oh, then in that desolate hour, Oh, give ine a heart that is true. The pageant cf wealth is a wep^ flint never hl?th root iuthe heart, ^nd heahty aloqe hath indeed, X?r fragrance nor joy to impart; But love amid sunshine and tears, Will bloom with perennial hue, Oh give me the faithful in years, Ch, give me a heart that is true. % f rftti) Sforg. THE MEBSHAfiTS GIFT. BY QEQRGE P. BURNHAM. Joseph Warner was a wealthy mer chant of Philadelphia, living in princely I style, surrounded by a retinue of servants and a large coterie of friends and fashionable acquaintances, many of whom had been his intimates for a series of years. He was original'y in a very small way himself, and had found it necessary to succumb to a thousand humilities and inconveniences years before, that ^ere nqt oqly excessively annoying to his naturally proud spirit, but irksome, and hard to cope with. Twenty years previously, he was a porter in the store of a crusty old millionaire, who, though he had little sympathy for the poor and humble generally, was, nevertheless, . upon certain occasions, kind and liberal to those he chanced to fancy. Upon a very hot day in mid-summer, this wealthy em-1 ployer of Warner's, at that time, saw tj'oe tilS'hS thpo callpdj sweating aud toiling pp to his store-dcor with a truck-load of merchandize he had procured from a neighboring vessel of old G 's. The employer watched his porter as he came along toward the side-walk, puffing and struggling $}fh hi? hqrden, and when he arrived be- j fore the door aqd rempved his sloqched I baf, tq pass his weather-browned arm across j bis busted forehead, the millionaire said, : pleasantly, " Well, Joe, this'll pass for a hot day." "Very warm, sir, very," replied Joe, looking about him to see if some other per- j son were not addressed, instead of himself ; j for old Cr. was not in the habit of being thus familiar with his dependents. i^s Joe "Warper fugped and labored to | remove the goods safely from his dray, his j employer watched his movements, and ilnal- j ly said : "Joe, what the deuce do you work so hard for ?" "For my bread, sir; and to keep the little ones together." "How many have you ?" "Four, sir. The eldest is ten years old ! pow, and has got to be a good deal of help jq her mother." "'Well, you can do better than this, -Joe, if you've a mind; and become a merchant yourself." Joe supposed his employer to be jesting, | hqt he aqswpred, "Ves, sir, if I had the ; meaus to do differently, I wouldn't sweat over this dray, I assure you. But the ha-; bies must be cared for, you kuow, and I am j content. There are pleuty of men, sir, a good deal worse off' than Joe Warner is, today." "Trre,?but you can do better." "As how, sir, if you please ?" qperiecj J". flPo a little mora head work, and less of j this hard toil will be needed, Joe. Buy a j eargo of sugar, for instance, and make a few hundreds or thousands nf dollars hv tho on. I eration, to begin with. Then go carefully, 1 shave and save as respectably as may be j necessary, according to the times, the de- j mand, and the supply, and you'll get rich." j "Excellent advice, this, sir, and for which I am greatly obliged to you. But, perhaps, I you will lay me under further obligations to your kindness, by informing me where I'm io get the means to puichase this cargo, and, i consequently, to realize all these hundreds j or thousands of dollars, as the case migh be." j "Easiest thing in the world, Joe." "Is it, sir 1" "You don't want any money." "Xoexclaimed Joe, astouished.? ""Why, I always thought these things co^t I money, sir." "True,?but still you wout want auy rea- j dy money, if you fo'low my advice." "Then I'll do so, surely, sir " "Very well. To-morrow, at eleven o'- j plock, there is to be sold at Packet Pier, a cargo of sugar, on board the brig 'Percival.' Go down and buy It." "What, the brig, sir?" "No, no! The sugar." "How much, sir ?" '"The cargo, Joe,?the whole of it. I'll take it off your hands, at cost, if you don't want it, afterwards." "But?the pay, sir. How shall I pay for it?"* * "It is to be sold, on approved credit, at sixty days. If they ask who is your endorser, says it's me, Joe." "Thank you," said Joe, feebly, and ut1 _j. _ 1 1 l i . . * it teriy ai a loss 10 comprcnenu wnat tne oia gentleman was driving at. Joe Warner went home that night, perplexed. But before eleven o'clock next day, though he did not see his employer in the meantime, he made up his mind how he should act. And at the hour of sale, he went to the dock, in his old blouse and slou ched hat, direct from his ordinary labor. There was a splendid company present at the sugar sale, for there was but little in market, and a decidedly speculative feeling was current in sugars at this time. Joe loitered along,?did not see Mr. Or. there, but recognized a great many other geDtlemen, who did not then care to know him, particularly. "Gentlemen," said the fashionable auctioneer, rising, at length, "we have a very fine cargo of sugars to offer you here to-day, on board the Pcrcival, and I am happy to meet so goodly a company this morning.? 1 We shall sell for cash, for all sums under 1 [ five huudred dollars, and at sixty days for all purchases made exceeding that sum? I with endorsed notes, as usual, to be appro- ' ved by the auctioneer. Aud now, geutleI men, if you will give me your attention, 1 ! we'll commence the sale, with the under- I I standing that we sell five boxes, or more, as ' the buyer may elect wheu the lot is knocked off. And, to begin with, what shall I 1 have, gentlemen, ior the hrst lot?live box- ' es, or more. Speak it, gentlemen?how much ?" "Four cents,'1 said somebody. s "Four cents, I'm offered, gentlemen !? 1 Four oents?four?four?four and a quar- c ter, and a half?thank you, sir?now five ? ^ Four and a half?three quarters, three quar- 1 ters, three quarters?say five ? Five, five, five, five cents a pound," and here it seem- } ed to stick fast. The bid was Joe Warner's, 3 and everybody knew it. The knowing ones a said, "Knock it off,?let him have it."? 1 He was a poor looking man, and evidently a didn't want more than five boxes. Let him v have it low, and they would thus get rid of ^ him?and down it went. ^ "Name, sir?" said the auctioneer, rough. . 15 ly, and at the same time, eyeing his custo- 1 mer, as much as to say, "you're a beauty ^ to be here buying sugars, to be sure !" "Joseph Warner, sir." "0, 1 see, yes. Warner,?Joe Warner. How much do you take Joe ?" "I'll take the whole, sir." r ri "Whole wlmt ?" exclaimed the auction- , v D eer. !"jphe whole cargo, sir." "The whole cargo is not selling, sir." "Your terms were dive boxes, or more,' I think, Mr. Auctioneer." ^ "Yes, yes, yes!" shouted a dozen voices, at oucc. k "Yery well, then, jf you claim it sir." "Qf course I claim it. I take the lot, at , five cents." "And who is your.endorser ?" ! ^ "James G., of Market Street," said Joe, j ^ proudly, making his way through the crowd, j who gathered about him. d Mr. G was among the lookers on. The j n auctioneer said, "Is this so. sir?" The mil-1 c lionaire nodded assent, and the knight of the ! n hammer added: p( "Mr. Joseph Warner, gentlemen, takes the entire cargo, at five cents 1" v A shout rang up from the multitude at v this announcement, and Joe Warner soon t] found himself busy. a "l)o you want this sugar, or any of it?" s1 asked Joe of his employer, a few minutes d after this. "I am besieged to sell, at an advance, and have, at the very least, forty r: customers, who are pressing me with offers, n sir." r "tfoll it, Joe,?don't keep it over night. C Vou can do better than I care to do for it, now. So make your hay while the sun is v shining." P Warner disposed of his entire purchase . hefqre he left the dock, to half a dozen dif- 1 ferent merchants, at a handsome advance ; ! 1" and turning over their notes to the auctioneer, he realized the surplus from them in 11 cash, and went home that night thirty-three s hundred dollars better off than lie was in 11 the morning! lie gave up portering from t( that day, and commenced-to grow rich, off hand. He finally went iuto business with 1 (IP established fiftn, as junior partner (when he had accumulated twenty thousand dol- u lars by himself,) and from that time his fortune irrew raoidlv. until he was now (when we present him to the render) the master of 0 a superb fortune, and was nearly sixty years 11 of age. r Warner had one serious failing. He had ? , p , o come up from poverty to competency, and thence to great wealth, very suddenly, and _ he soon got to be, amid his prosperity, an t emphatic b?v, \ His dinners were superb, his living, generally, costly, and he ^ knew the qualities of a truffled turkey, a cauvass-back, or a saddle of venison, better than any other man in town. He drank good wine, too, and at last became gouty and obese, from his creature indulgences.? r When he had seen nearly threescore years, he was inclined to apoplexy, though he did ^ not preteud to believe it, and he secretly i made his will. Iu this document, whip]} was prepared with great care by his accomplished attor- e ney and legal counsellor, he provided gene- t rously for his wife aqd children first, and i ji then apportioned certain liberal sqmsto such | 1 institutions of a charitable character as he t was convinced were dc-serving .and needy, t ; The will was duly witnessed, signed and i | sealed, and placed up&n the proper records. 1 Among the attache* of his household, i j there was a young man of thrce-and-twenty, i j who cujoyed Warner's confidence, and who i entertained a secret affection for his young- i i est daughter, a blooming girl then nineteen ! years old. But Hartwcll never told his love i to the father, for ho was pour, and depen- j dent on the merchant's bounty for his sub-! sistence. He was an exceedingly worthy : fellow, nevertheless, and Charlotte loved1 him, though she never dared to say so. Ilcr ! mother had higher notions for her, altogeth| er. To be sure, her husband had once been ! a drayman and porter,?but what mattered j that ? lie was now a rich merchant, and her daughters must wed their equals in rank, or remain in single-blessedness, if she had her will. The two lover lived quietly on there4 lore, lovec and hoped for better prospects < in the future. j j Ilartwcll had been the faithful confidant! i of his employer for six long years, when, : ( one day, greatly to the secretary's surprise, ; I Mr. Warner said to him, when they were i, alone in his library, "Wallace, you're a very clever young man, and I am inclined to do | something for you. What shall it be?" "llcally, sir," replied Hartwell, surprised, "I cannot dictate to you." "You have now served me earnestly and honorably for a long time, and you have my entire confidence. Let me give you some proof of my friendship. I promise you that I know you so well, if you will propose, I ivill engage to respond to your wishes, what- t ever you may claim." t "1 claim nothing, sir. You have teen constantly friendly to me since I came into , your employ, and I have aimed to do my t l.ifv ..c c T i-....... ? "1 know it, Wallace, and that is why I T now speak to you as T do. You are in love svith Charlotte, my daughter," continued v Mr. Warner, abruptly. j "You are right, sir," said Wallace, with j iome embarrassment. "You have offered |( poluutarily to give me whatever I will ask ? )f you. I ask you, then, to give me Char- u otte in marriage," continued Hartwell t nore boldly. 2 "Let us look at this, Wallace. Your ^ vish is not unreasonable. Charlotte loves 1 ou?she has confessed it to her father? v md I am content with this. Hut Mrs. War- jf ler, though an excellent woman, is notion- ( 1; she will never consent to your union w rith her daughter, while you are poor. ? d Besides, you could net support her as she /j ias been in the habit of living, and it would sj >e hard to reduce her to the level of your tf resent pecuniary means, you sec." C( "I am fully aware of this, sir, and there- C] jrc have never alluded to our marriage, (j ven to her." (]i "That is considerate, Wallace. Bring t| ic my will, from the safe, yonder. Here /, s my private key," said Warner, without ising from his seat. _\nd, when Wallace rought him that document, he glanced it w ver, and wrotcupon the bottom of the sheet ? -dating it on the day he made the addition 0( -the following : il "This is my codicil to my will, written Jlt y my own hand. To Wallace Hartwell, iy faithful secretary and frjond, I give and ;u equcath the marble-front house owned by ie, in S. Streot, in Philadelphia, with the 0j mds and appurtenances, thereunto belong- ai ig, in fee, to him and his heirs and assigns, sj irever; together with the sum of thirty n lousamt dollars in cash,?the same to be c*( aid to him promptly, or his order, inuno- ,r] iately upon my decease, fie will marry n, iy daughter, Charlotte ; and ] hcvoby c, harge my cxcct^qys and administrators, na- \j led in tj'iis my will, with the faithful per- p. irmance of this, my fnyil codicil." ^ His attorney was sent for, the additional ras duly signed arid attested, his counsel t; \ns enjoined to privacy in reference to it, he addition was recorded, and, five days ,,, fterwards, Joseph Warner, Esq , was found )1? tone dmd, alone in his library! His suden death was caused by apoplexy. Joseph Warner, Esq., had a great funeal. All the nabobs of the Quaker city tyr- vj cd Otyt, \yifh their priyqtc caryiagCe, and the t0 icli moicipiut was fallowed to Laurel Hill rj Jemetry by a crowd of "mourners." 0j The attorney was called in, the relatives, rituessos. friends, and expectants, were all n] resent, after the burial, at the opening of p, he will. It was a lengthy document, hut j? t was tilled with interest, from first to last, [r nd all who were present listened with mar- t[ ;ed silence to the reading of it. Mrs. War- (' or never had fancied Wallace much, though t| he knew lm was her husband's "right baud t| imii," and she breathed freer when the at- r r\rm?v cniwlmliwl th<> ni:mi r-.mvistfiii fit tln? i ? -*v ",:r "i'i ? ? r.i fill, ami heard the well known signature hat was affixed at the bottom of it,?for . Iartwell's natne had not been mentioued at n! t I The .attorney wiped his mouth carefully, ook a long breath, and, amid the silence, ontinued to read, "This is my co<li<ll to j jy will, written by my own hand," and he ead the remaining portion of the document, n ,'ith becoming emphasis, at the expiration p f which Mrs. Warner swooned, and it was upposed, for half an hour after, by all who | ^ rere present?though they did not know ! j ho cagse?that Mrs. Warner had really j ;one to keep her husband company, in a i ictter world than litis ! ci Mrs Warner enme back to consciousness, . IS nd at length became resigned to accepting , . secretary for a son-in-law. Charlotte Varner became Mrs. Hart well within twelve | j nonths. They lived long and happily to- ^ ;ethcr, and the Merchant's Gift was duly j ppreciated by the fortunate and faithful ecretary. ^ Not His Mother.?There was a pine a offin borne through the drifting snows. At k he grave's verge tho lid was thrown hack, d ind the face of the sleeper was rpycalgd.-? J1' it was a face marked with time and care? e here was not a line of beauty in it; it was j t< he countenance of a poor, plain, old wo- j 11 nan. And yet I heard bitter sobs and cho- j cing sighs not far from my elbow, aud look- j s ng up I saw the children of the deceased j F ipproaching to take the last look at a face j vhich was dear and beautiful to them. The n itfections uevcr yet clung to an object with- t nit investing it with a degree of loveliness, 1 t md was there ever a kind, gentle mother J i tvho was not beautiful in her children's cstU 1 ination ! ; v The hair which is tucked away under the 11 nnidin nnn mnv be thicklv threaded with i n ...? ~"1'J ?J ? J silver?the forehead may be furrowed, and j \ the eye lustreless, still it is associated in the j ? mind of the child, with a love which never I slumbered, and a gentleness which nothing : r could ruffle. f How carelessly the sexton tramped around t the grave, treading the fresh earth in among t the new fallen snow! It was not his moth- i or ho was burying?you could see that at a fiance?it was a poor, plain old woman; almost a pauper. * The cords rattled, and the clods afterward rumble. Heaven comforts the motherless in such an hour as thnt! i?raamr?.... j Cj)f jllabfr]) (Question. From the Knoxvillc Witacss. LETTER FROM DR, ROSS. IIl ntsvillk, Ala., July 14,185G. Bkothkr Blackburn : I affirmed in >ty New York speech, that the slavery ngiation has done, and will accomplish good. Your very kind and cotfrteous disngreeuent on that point, I will make the occasion o sny something more thereon, without wish ng you, my denr friend, to regard what I vrite as inviting any discussiou. I said that agitation has brought out, and vould reveal still more fully, the Bible, in ts relation to slavery and liberty?also, the nfidelity which long has been and is now, eaveiling, with death, the whole Northern nind. And that it would result in the triuiiph of the true Southern interpretation of he Bible; to the honor of God, and to the ood of the master, the slave, the stability f the Union, and bo a blessing to the world, 'o accomplish this, the sin per se doctriup rill be utterly demolished. That doctri. > the difficulty, in every Northern mind, where there is any difficulty about slavery,) bother they confess it or not. Yes, the ifficulty with every Northern man is, that, icrelation of master and slave is felt to be n. I know that to be the fact. I have ilked with all grades of Northern men, and )nie in contact with all varieties of Northrn mind on this subject. And, I know that | ic man who says, and tries to believe, and ties, partially, in sober judgment believe, Kit slavery is not sin, yet, in hi* fecliufjs? i ins eifncaifi j)rr/utticcs, ho leelsthat slaver is sin. Yes, that is the difficulty, and that is the hole of the difficulty, between the North >ul the Smith, so far as the question is one * the Bible and morals. Now, I again say, iat that sin per se doctrine will, iu this great ritation, bo utterly demolished. And when iat is done; when the North will know, id feel, fully, perfectly, that the relation of aster and slave is not siD, but sanctioucd find, then, and not till then, the North id South cau, and will, without anger condor the following questions ; whether slave as it exists ?** > United States, all thing.msidered be or be not u great goo.d, and the reatest good, fore, time, notwithstanding its 'niiiUid 6vils ? Again : whetherthese evils, in, or cannot be modified and removed ?? astly, whether slavery itself can or cannot i iss away from this land, and the world?? ' ow, sir, tho moment the sin question issctc-d, then all is peace. For these other qucsons belong entirely to another category of ! orals. They belong cutircly to the cateiry of what is wise to realize good. This citation will bring this great result. And icrcforc, I affirm the agitation to be good. There is another fact also the result, in a reat measure, (if this agitation which in my ew proves the agitation to have been, and i be of great good. I mean the astonishing sc, and present stability of the slave power the United States. This fact, when exuincd, is undeuiable.. And it is equally ndeniable, that it has been oauscd in great irt by tho slavery agitation in all its benrig. It is a wonderful development made y God. And I must believe he intends, icrcby either to destroy or bless this great | nion. But as 1 believe he intends to bless | icrefovc I am fortified in affirming thp good j lore has been, anfl is, in thin agitation.? j et me bring out to view this astonishing j let 1. Twenty-five years ago, and previously, [ le whole slaveholding Soqth and West had j strong tendency to emancipation in some j irtu. But the abolition ugitatiun then be- i an and arrested that Southern and West- j u leaning to emancipation. Many people j ave said, and do say, that, that arrest was, J id is a great evil. I say it and is; a reat good. Why? Answer: It was, and ould now bo, premature. Had it been cared out it would have been, and would now e, evil, immense, inconceivable?to master, ave, America, Africa, and the whole world ; ecnuse neither master, slave, America, Afrii, nor the world were or arc, ready for emanipntion. God has a great deal to do before he i ready for emancipation. lie tells us so y this arrest put upon that tendency to mancipation years ago. For He put it into ie hearts of abolitionists to make, the arrest. md He stopt the Southern mo.Yfitneat, all ie more ncyfecfo') by permitting Great Britin to emancipate Jamaica, and letting that xperiment prove, as it has, a perfect failure .. J _ i Ml. TAMAffH TCJ tiu h lerri uiu warumg. u;\.u.hl:i >ESTROYED. And now, whateyW one for jts negpqps, must be done with the ,ill admission that what has heen atteniptd was in violatiou of the duty Britain owed } those negroes, But her failure in seeing nd doing her duty, God has given to us to sacli us knowledge; and through us, to iutriift the world, in the demonstration of the robleni of slavery. 2. God put it into the he^tjs of Northern ion?especially abolitionists?to give Texas o the South. Texas?a territory so vast hat a bird, as Webster says, can't fly over it n a week. Many in the South did not want ^exas, But many longer-headed ones did rant it. And Northern men voted, and gave o the South, exactly what these longer hcadd Southern statesmen wanted. This, I grant, ras Northern anti-slavery fatuity, utterly unocountablc, but that God made them do it. 3. God put it into the heart of Northern nen?and especially abolitionists?to vote or Polk, Dallas, and Texas. This gave U9 he Mexican War ; and that immense terriory, its spoil. A territory which, although t may no. Do favorable for slave labor, has . increased, and will, in many ways, extend the slave power. 4. This leads me to say that God put it i into the hearts of many Northern men, especially abolitionists, to believe what Great Britain said, namely : that free trade would result in slave emancipation. Hut lo! the slaveholder wanted, frcetradr. So Northern abolitionists helped to destroy the tariff policy ; and thus to expand the demand for, and the culture of cotton. Now see the gold of California has perpetuated free trade, by enabling our merchants to meet the enormous demand for specie created by free trade. So, California helps the slavo power. But the abolitionists gave us Polk, the Mexican War, and California. 5. God put it into the hearts of the North and especially abolitionists, to stimulate the settlement of new free Stntes, and to be the ardent friends of an immense foreign emigration. The results has been, to send down to the South, with railroad speed and cer tainty, corn, wheat, flour, meal, bacon, pork, beef, and every other imaginable form of food, in quantity amazing, and so cheap, that the planter can spread wider and wider the culture of cottou. j G. God has by this growth of the Northwest made the demand for cotton enormous iu the North and Northwest. Again, he has made English and French experiments, to procure cotton somewhere else than from the j United States dead failures. In the East Indies; Egypt; Algeria; Brazil; God has thus given to the Southern planter an absolute monopoly. A monopoly so great, that He, the Southern plautcr, sits now upon his throne of cotton and wields the commercial sceptre of the world. Yes, it is the Southern planter who says to-day, to haughty England go to war, if you dare ! Dism'ss Dallas, if you dare ! Yes, He who sits on the throne of the cotton bag has triumphed at j last over him who sits on the throne of the wool sack. Englaud is prostrate at his feet, as well as the abolitionists. 7. God has put into the hearts of abolitionists to prevent half a million of free negroes from going to Liberia; and thereby the abolitionists have made them consumors of slave products to the extension of the slave power. And by thus keeping them iu America the abolitionists have so increased their degradation, as to prove all the more the utter folly of emancipation in the United States. 8. God has permitted the anti-slavery men in the North, in England, in France, and everywhere so to blind themselves in hypocrisy, as to give the Southern slaveholders his last perfect triumph over them. For God tolls the planter to say to the .North, to Eng- , land, to I'rance to nil who birr cotton : "Ye men of Boston, New York, London, Paris ?ye hypocrites?ye brand me as a pirate, n kidnapper, a rourderor, a demon fit only for hell?and yet, yc buy my blood stained cotton. ()! ye hypocrites. Ye Boston hypocrites?why don't ye throw the cotton in the sea, as your fathers did the tea? Ye Boston hypocrites?ye say if ice. hurt hern in the days if our fathers ire. icoitlrt. not hare been partakers irith (hern in the Uoort of the slarc tmrtc ? Wherefore, ye be witnesses unto yourselves that ye are the children of i them, who, in fact, kidnapped, and bought in blood and sold the slave in America !? For now, yc hypocrites?yc buy the blood- : stained cotton in quantity so immense, that ye have run up the prloo of slaves to be more than a thousand dollars, the average of old and young ! 0 ! ye hypocrites?ye denounce slavery, then bid it live, and not die in that yc buy sugar, rice, tobacco, and above all, cotton! Ye hypocrites?ye abuse the devil, . and then fall down and worship him ? Ye hypocrites?yc New Loginnd hypocrites? ye Old Lngland hypocrites?ye French hypocrites?ye Uncle Tom's Cabin hypocrites ?yc Beecher hypocrites?ye Rhode Islaud Consociation hypocrites. 0 ! your holy twaddle stinks in tho nostrils of God, and Ho oommuuds me to lash you with my scorn, and His scorn, so long ns you gabble about the sin of slavery, aod then bow down to me, and buy, and spin cotton?and thus rovk I for me as truly as my slaves. 0 I ye fools J nud blind fill ye up the measure of your fojly uiid bliudness, and shame. And this ye are doing. Ye have, like the French in CJ-1. 1.. ? ?J J --.1 uuuis, inauu rruwn ^yuui ^uuuesa, uqu WJ DA.- [ alting lier above the Bible, Aud it) jour uuitariuuiam and neology and all modes of infidelity, yo are rejootingand crucifying the Son of God.' Now, >ny brother, this controlling slave | power, is a world wide fact. Its statistics of bales, counts by millions. Its tonage counts by hundreds of thousands. Its u$pu- ' facture is reckoned by the workshops of | America t\pd |3urop?. 113 supporters are , numbered by all who must thus be clothed in the world. This tremendous power has been developed in great measure by the Abolition agitation controlled bj God. T believe, thon, as I haya already said?that God intends one of two things. He either intends to destroy the United State? by this slave power?or he intends to bless my country aud the world by the unfoldings of his wisdom in this matter. I believe he will j bless the world in the working out of this j i slavery. I rejoice, then, in the agitation | which has so resulted, and, willto terminate, to reveal the ftih)6, and bless mankind. Your affectionate friend, F. A. ROSS, Rev. A. Blackburn. Military Efficiency.?The incidents j ! of our history show that not to old men are | j we indebted for our military reputation, I save iu a very few instanoes. Washington i was pot fifty-two when he retired from the oommaud of the American armies, which post be had held for more than eight years, Jackson was not forty-eight when he won the campaign of Louisiana, one of the most remarkable of military events. The ablest general of the revolution was Greene, who had hardly reached to middle life when he died, some time after the close of the war. In the war of 1812, both Brown, McComb, and the other array officers who most dis-' tinguished themselves, were young men. In j the navy, Decatur, Stewart, Bainbridge, J Hull, Perry, M'Donough, Lawrence, Blake-! ly and many more, who won unfading laurels, were all short of middle life, and several of them were what would now be called boys in the service. What succedcd so well then, is worth being tried over again. I . Select Jleaitiitg. ; ! From the Waverly Magazine. THE DEATH OP CHILDREN. j Every day the grave opens to receive an ] army of the dead; every day many hearts I are made deso'ate, many hearts are broken ] by the stern destroyer. And the low mounds i which mark the resting-places of the depart- i ed, rise constantly to the view, besprinkling 1 our beautiful earth with sad remembrances of our end. i When tender plants have just arisen above i the surface of the ground, they must be trea- c ted with the utmost care, else they wither f ' and die; but when they have matured, they a grow up in safety, and are less liable to des- t truction. Plants are like children. All the 1 ills that make miserable the life of many t gather around his childhood and youth.? f Children form the greatest part of the long I and sorrowful procession that moves inces- ? sautly to the land of silence. Their graves i till our cemeteries; their soft spirits haunt t those sylvan solitudes. Their happy, beam- a ing eyes have ceased to look upon us with n glances of trusting love. Their ringing t voices, which could once chase from our s wrinkled brows the clouds of care, with s their gladsome echoes, are smothered in the a silence of the tomb. The cold earth press- n es heavily upon the tender breasts that heaved o with love and the new delights of childish s; innocence. tl Death is at all times an unwelcome visit- t< or. lie comes crowned with terror; and when ho has passed, he leaves sadness and o gloom behind. But never dnes he seem so 11 1 1 * cruei anu remorseless, never docs his com- tl ing awaken such sadness as when he strikes lj the The old man, after having ex- it perienced the toils, vexations and sorrows of ei a loug life, welcomes its close, happy that hi the end of his labors has arrived.' He who is in middle life, has finished life's enrnpturiug pleasures, and has begun the stern bat- ti lie with its troubles. When he dies, we feel, gi in the midst ot our grief, that he has left a bl scene of toil. ei JJut when children die, they leave a world which senilis to them a paradise. Turning p< away from the long vista of pleasure which ?I invites their steps, full cf beautiful sights and melodious sounds, in the dav-spriDg of er love and friendship, in the midst of bright or hopes and joyful anticipations, they start on cc their solitary journey to the silent laud. ra Were there no alleviating circumstances ec theirs would indeed be a dark and mournful end. Then might we say that they had been si born in vain. When only the black scene y< of death is present to the ndud, and the gushing tears obscure all but the remem- tu brancc of her former loveliness, few rays of hope brighten the gloom of our grief. But ol after the overwhelming burst of sorrow is over, the calm contemplation of their bright do3tiny is sufficient to cheer the heart.? ca What though they be buds gathered before they bloom ; they shall bloom in more congenial soil. They will attain to full perfec- bl tiou amid the fai? gardens and greeu bowers, nud eternal suushiue of Paradise. Their sunny faces will be made brighter and holier with beams of celestial light. Their voices will acquire a swoetcr tone. Their fo happy hearts will be made still harmier hv I - ?" - -- ?rr? -j ever fresh delights and rich sccuery of their Hual home. They not only leave tho opeu- th ing pleasures of youth, but they avoid the or long array of pain, siokness, sorrow and pi woe that throws iho path of pilgrims over the dr?wy waste of life. Then weeping mo- th ther, and heart-stricken brother or sister, let your tears be dried; cease to regret that the h< departed one can nrver more wear the lovely garlands of earth, but stretch your sight w and you may see a wreath of unfading flow- C ors upon your loved one's brow, placed there e< by the Saviour's hand. INHERITANCE OF TALENT. ei A cotemporary says that great men usual- o] ly inherit their talents from tho mother.? tc This is a popular belief, but not the less er- ei roneous, Tho mistake has arisen from at- h< tending only to those cases in which the mothor had a superior mind, to the neglect of et tho equally numerous examples where the d; father possessed remarkable abilities. Eve- bi ry body quotes the fact that Nopoleon deri- it yed his genius from his mother. Nobody oi mentions that Burns owed bis vast abilities vi to his father, A traveller would commit a ci similar blunder who should describe all A- oi mericans as light-haired, or say that every ' pi Philadelphian was u Quaker. The rule, for rule there is, lies deeper.? | Great abilities, ip, a word, arise from such a j D fortune^ union of the mental characteristics j ^ cS" iV?a oa von/I ore fhn rirnrmn v f? r?c\. 1 ?~v ? ? - S"- 0] nius, though neither father noT mother perhaps, wore such. The catalogue of eminent ^ men, if carefully made up aud honestly t| scrutinized with a view to elucidating the Z( truth, would establish this, we have no t] doubt beyond controversy. For it is already known that the ohild takes its mental nature in about equal portions from its parents, r, and this fact at once leads to our conclu- ^ sion, as well as explains why brilliant par- ii ents often have dunces among their off-1 Sl spring. ^ | b Let us illustrate this. A man has the i n purely intellectual characteristics in great q force, but is wanting in will; he is conse- c quently a dreamy philosopher, or a visionary speculator. He marries a woman, who, with but ordinary intellect, has immense c energy. One child of this pair may com- * bine the weakness of both parents; and will k X , ' * "" be, iu that event, an irreclaimable fool.? But another may inherit the mother's will, with the fathe/s intellect; and this child, unless ruined by a bad education, is certain to become distinguished. Or take another example. A woman of no remarkable abilities, but with a fine moral nature, is married to a man without principle, but possessing shining abilities. One child of this pair may have the good qualities of-both parents, and become a Bunyan, a Nestor, or even a Washington. But another may inherit the deficiencies of both, and grow np, unless carefully guarded, Jo become a brilliant villian. Or take a third instance. One nnronf mnvr Vintta mn/th 1 Hi I?'?viiv ?iMj u(*io uiuwu luju^uiauuU) yuv 11 v tic else, and the other remarkable, bat great perceptive faculties. The union "of these" ;wo characteristics in a child will produce % poet. The transmission of either, in excess, luless balanced by strong reasoning powers, nay make only a human monkey or a ronantic fool. This law explains also why so few emiient men belon^fto one family. .There bare arely been two distinguished poets, paintsrs, generals, or even statesmen, who were ather and son or even brothers. The elder ind youuger Pitt, though both prime minisers, and both famous speakers, were stritingly dissimilar in their mental constitu* ion, so that this example which seems at irst to oppose our theory, really sustains it. n fact, when we consider that the mind has o many and so dissimilar ingredients, ideal* ty, causality, benevolence, reverence, desructivencss, constructiveness, and that these , re combined in millions of varieties in as. aany million persons, the wonder is nottbat^ . wo individuals even of the same family, , etuble each other so little, but that they te- j/" emble each other so much. Given the score nd odd of separate humps into which phrc* ology divides the brain, and take the child f nnr ftrn roroona mKatauAw 11 ? v...J vrtxj ovuo TTUawvcJL OUU ITUU OUOil iy in what exact proportions out of the ten lousand possible ones those qualities ought ) unite? j,-:..' ' There is too much fulsity taught for truth 11 this and similar subjeots, not only in ewspapers, but even in elaborate books? le reason is that few peasons think sonndr, or dare to deny preconceived or popular leas. We would have every man, howevr, reflect for himself. "Prove all things; old fast to the good."?Baltimore Svn. Henry Clay.?Shortly after the agitaon of the famous Compensation bill in Conrcss, Mr. Clay, who voted in favor of this ill, upon reluming home to his constituits, found a formidable opposition arrayed, _ _ gainst his re-election. After addressing the sople from the hustings, previous to the )ening of the poll, he stepped down into ? crowd, where he met an old and unfluitial friend of his, of the name of Scott; le of the first settlers of Kentucky, and of iurse in his younger days, a great huntsan. This gentleman stopping up, address. I Mr. Clay as follows :? "Wei, well Harry, I've been with you in x troubles; I am sorry I must now desert iu in the seventh. You have voted for that iserable Compensation Bill?I must now rn my baok upon you." ' < ' "Is it so, friend Scott ? Is that the only (jectionr . . , , "It is-" . . "We must get over it the best way "to n. You are an old huntsman ?" "Yea," said Mr. Scott. "You have killed many a fat benratfdS ick, no doubt?" . % " "Yes." " "You have a true and fine rifle?" "Yes, as good a one as ever cracked." "Well did you ever have a fine buck Bore you wheu your gun snapped ?" "The like of that has happened."* "Well now, friend Scott, did you take lat faithful rifle and break it all to pieces i the very next log you came to, or did you ek the flint and try it again ?" The tears started in the old man's eyes j le chord was touched? "No, Harry, I picked the flint and tried ir again. Give us your hand." . We need hardly say that the welkin rung ith the huzzaing plaudits of the bystanders, lay was borne off to the hustings and re-elsted. Co-operation of*the Wife.?No man rer prospered in the world, without tho co>eration of his wife. If she unites in mulal endeavors, or rewards his labors with an bearing smile, with what confidence will e resort to his merchandize or his farm, flv yev lands, sail upon seas, meet difficulty and ^counter danger if he knows he is notspening his strength in vain, but his labor will e rewarded by the sweets of home. Solieude and disappointment enter the history f every man's life, and he is but half-proided for this voyage who finds bnt an asso iate tor happy hours, while, tor his months f darkness and distress, no sympathizing nrtaer is prepared. Size of tiie West.?Illinois would make >rty such States as Rhode Island, and Mjnesota sixty. Missouri is larger than all 'ew England. Ohio exceeds either Ireland r Scotland, or Portugal, and equals Belgim and Switzerland together. Missouri is lore than half as large as Italy, and larger ian Denmark, Holland, Belgium and Switerland. Missouri and Illinois are larger lan England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. Piety is the only proper and adequate slief of decaying man. He that grows old rithout religious hope, as he declines into nbecility, and feels pains and sorrows incesantly growing upon him, rolls into a gulf of ottomless misery, in which every reflection iust plunge htm deeper, and where he finds mjr uew grauauuuu 01 auguisn ana pnwpies of horror. . . : ' J6F"My dear sir," said a candidate,' ao osting a sturdy wag on the day of election,. 'I'm very glad to see you." "You needn't Toted." Sjfcy *'7 & x . . . %