Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, January 15, 1857, Image 1
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SVSSia |Proprietors. Au iudepeudent Joariia!: f or the Promotion of the-Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. |jsw? *. out* mum?. .. |
VOL. 3. ~ YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JANUARY 15, 1857- JSTO. 3.
Cjwicc JMrg.
HALLOWED BE THY NAME.
List to the dreary tongue that dwells
Id rippling waves or sighing tree :
Go. hearken to tho old church bells,
The whistling bird, the whizzing bee ;
Interpret right, and ye will find
'Tis ''power and glory'' they proclaim ;
The chimes, the creatures, waters, wind,
All publish "hallowedbe Thy name!"
The pilgrim journeys till he bleeds,
To gain tho altar of his sires :
The.hermit pores above it's beads,
With zeal that never warms nor tires:
But holiest rite or longest prayer
* "*** ' That soul can yield or wisdom frame.
What better import can it bear
Than "Father, hallowed be Thy name!"
The savage kneeling to the sun,
To give his thanks or ask a boon ;
The raptures of the idiot otic,
With laughs to see the clear round moon ;
The saint well aught in Christain lcre.
The Moslem prostrate at his flame?
All worship, wonder and adore,
Aud end in "hallowed be Thy name!"
w,??? ??
nut ur or ijiuj uc uinu o muu v?* viwv.,
These precious words comprise it still;
We trace them to the blooming mind ;
We hare them on the flowing rill;
Our chorus hails the Great Suj reine:
Each varied breathing is the same?
The strains may differ but the tiikmk
Is "Father, hallowed be thy name!"
?1k Stflc|)-Ccller. !
THE SOLDIER'S VOW. i
I
A TBU E TALE.
\
Oue beautiful Indian Summer day, in the
autumn of 1844, a stranger appeared in the
streets of Hanover, N. II., whose garb bespoke
the utmost poverty and destitution.
Ashe staggered along he was surrounded by
a crow.d ol village boys, who amused themselves
by insulting him with coarse jests ami
personal indignities. He bore their abuse
with exemplary patience, and begged them
to wait till he felt a little better, aod he
would sing them a fine song. IIis voice was
thick with unnatural excess, and he was too
weak to protect himself from the rude jostlingsof
the crowd, jet he smiled on the tormentors,
and exhibited no other sense of his
helpless and forlorn condition than a look of
grief and shame, which despite his efforts
and smiles, would occasionally overspread
his countenance.
Late in the afternoon, the writer, then a
student, passed him in company with a
friend, when our attention was arrested by a
voice of unusual power and beauty, siDging
the favorite national air of France, La Parisienna.
As he proceeded a great, number
of students from the college gathered around
him, and at the conclusion an involuntary
expression of delight broke from the entire
mass. He was enthusiastically encored, aud
afterwards the Marseillaise called for. The
rinh rlear voire, rant* out. that wild !
melody iu the very words which are wont to j
arouse the spirit of the French soldier to !
frenzy. The admiration of the poor inebriate's
auditory was now raised to the highest
pitch. Despite his tattered and filthy garments,
his squalid beard and brimless hat,
now that the fume of liquor had subsided his
form appeared symmetrical aud manly, aud
his face glowing with the sentiments of the
patriotic song, and flushed with excitement
at the unexpected praise he was winning,
assumed an expression of intelligence aud
joy that beautifully set off his really fine
features. 'What and who is this stranger?'
was the universal inquiry.
'His singing is incomparable, and his En- J
glish and French are faultless.'
'l'cs,' said he, dropping his eyes, 'I can |
give you Herman, or Spauish, or Italian, as |
well, or Latin and Greek either/ he added
carelessly.
In reply to the many questions that were
showered upon him with the coin he so much
needed, he at length said, in a sad tone and
slowly endeavoring to push his way through
the crowd :
'Gentlemen, I am a poor vagabond, entirely
unworthy your kind sympathy. Leave
me to rags and wretchedness, to go on my
way.'
Our curiosity was too much excited to al-,
lww this, and amid loud cheers, we escorted !
Kim In n rniim tphorn Ka irc fnrnicliArl until i
water and good clothe?, and the barber's art !
put in requisition, and after an incredibly
short time, he reappeared upon the college
steps, smiling aud bowing gracefully, a man
of as line appearance and noble bearing as
eyes ever beheld. The delight of the crowd
at this transformation was intense, aud re- j
peated shouts reut the air: 'Give us La !
ParUicnne !' echoed from all sides, and as !
soon as silence could be obtained again, that
clear, rich voice uttered these inspiring j
words :
'Peuple Francois, peuplc dr hrarts,
La Liberie rouvre se bras."
He was then conducted to the spacious ;
chapel, and there he held an audience of j
one thousand persons spell-bound for two j
hours by one of the most interesting autobio- I
graphies that it was ever our lot to hear.? j
Born in Paris, of wealthy parents, he had in |
early life been thoroughly educated at the :
ar:? i __j : 1 !
uuivcioity wi m uiuiuueig, uuu reueivcu tug |
Master's degree. He soon after joined the j
fortunes of Napoleon, and with the rank of j
lieutenant, he was with him during all his j
campaigns, in Egypt, in Italy, in Austria, j
in Russia, and at Waterloo.
His account of scenes in these battles, j
and his description of places and cities were j
expressed in choice and graphic terms, and j
on being compared with history, were found |
to correspond in every particular. He re-'
lated many unwritten and curious incideuts J
in the life of Napoleon, which had come un-1
der his observation, and finally closed with
a touching account of his own cai eer after
the battle of Waterloo. In the terrible route j
that followed that memorable event, his de- j
tochment was chased by a body of Prussian j
' -r \ .
?f .?
i hussars, and, becoming scattered in the
j night, he wandered for three days and uights
I in the woods and by-placos without food or
! drink.
The chase being at length given over, the
I poor Frenchman sat down weary and sick
! with his wouuds, and ready to die by the
; roadside. A humane Dutch girl, discover'
ing him in this situation, brought hirn re
! freshracnts and cordials, and among the latter
a flask of brandy. 'Here,' said the old
soldier, 'was the beginning of my woes.?
That angel of mercy, with the best of motives,
brought me in that flask a deadly foe,
which was to prove more potent for evil to
me thau all the burning toils of the Kgyptiao
cauipaigu, or the intolerable frosts and
snows of the Russian?more fatal than the i
cannon of 7o battles?which kindled in me 1
a thirst more insatiable thau that which for- i
eed uie to open my veins on the desert sands I
of the East. Till that day I had never tas- i
ted strong drink. I had uttered a vow in
my youth to abstain from it, and to that vow 1
I owed my life. For not one of all my comltirlnlivAil
ltt tltn lieu aP if oil n'1 T7_ 1
i uutn n iiu iiIUUI^U 111 tuv uot ui iv} oui ? i?- i
ed the horrors of the Egyptian Campaign. i
'But, as I lay in anguish, loDging for death i
and momentarily expecting his approach, a
sweet face appeared to tuc, wearing an ex- ]
prcssion of deep pity and sympathy for my j
sufferings, and I could but accept without 1
inquiry whatever she gave. She gently
raised my head and wiped with her hand- i
kerchief the dampness off my brow, and ad- 1
ministered the cordial to my lips. It relieved
me; I looked around, my courage, 1
my love of life returned. I poured forth my
gratitude in burning words, and called down
the blessings of Heaven. Ignorant of what 1
it was that so suddenly inspired me, as soon {
as my spirits flagged, I called for more. I ]
called for more. I drank agaiu and again ; I
for three weeks her loved voice soothed me, I
and her kind hand administered to my wants.
As soon as my strength was sufficiently
recovered, fearing that some enemy might
still be lurking near, I bade her adieu, with
many thanks and tears, sought the sea-side,
and embarked as a common sailor on the
first vessel that offered, and have followed
the sea ever since. 3Iy fatal thirst has ever
accompanied and cursed me, in port and on
deck this foe has debased me, and kept, me
from all chance of promotion. Oh, how often
have I, in the depth of my heart, wished
I had died on the field of Waterloo, or breathed
out my life in the arms of my gentle pre- 8
server. Six weeks ago I was wrecked in the
packet ship Clyde off the coast of New *
Brunswick. I have wandered on foot through
Canada and Xew Hampshire, singing for a t
few pennies, or begging for bread, till I met *
vrmr ct'nintifliv TTr?w rtn flincii 1
JV/U. iv vvj. ?v v.vvv vv.vpw
walls, and this noble band of students recal1
to recollection the scenes of former years.' <
The emotion of the stranger for a moment a
overcame his voice, and when he resumed 1
the tears were still coursing each other down i
his cheek. 'I know not why God should
direct my steps higthcr; but, gentlemen, '
this shall be the beginning of a new life in t
me, and here in Mis presence, and in that
of those witueses. I swear, as I hope to meet ; t
you in Heaven, uevcr to taste a drop of al- j s
cohol in any form again.' Prolonged and J 1
deafening cheers followed these words, and ! *
I noticed many a moist eye. A collection
was immediately made, and more than fifty :
dollars was put in his hands. As he ascend-1
ed to the coach to take his departure, he '
turned to the excited multitude that sur-1
rounded him, and said: 'It is but justice I
that you should know uiy name. I am Lieutenant
Lannes, a nephew of the great Mar- ]
shal Lannes. May God bless vou all?fate- 1
well!' '
As these youths thoughtfully returned to '
their accustomed pursuits, not a few resolved t
in their deepest souls that temperance and j
virtue should ever mark their character, and j e
that the soldier's vow should be theirs.
BEETHOVEN & THE BLIND GIRL, j <
Some months ago, I was at Bonn, the I c
birthplace of Beethoven. I met there an old 11
musician, who had known the illustrious I a
composer intimately ; and froinhiuj I receiv-1 8
ed the following anecdote. ! i
' 1
"You know, said he, "that Beethoven 1
was born in a house in the Khein Hrasse f
(Rhine stM) but at the time I became ac- f
qunintcd with him he lodged over a humble r
little shop in Bocinerplatz. lie was then 1
very poor, so poor that he only went out to (
walk at night, because of the dilapidated \5
state of his clothing. Nevertheless, he had |
a piano, pens, paper, ink and books; and,'
notwithstanding his privations, he passed j *
sonic happy moments there. He was not
yet deaf, and could at least enjoy the liar- j1
inouy of his own compositions. In later j'
years, even this consolation was denied him. !1
"One wiuter evening I called upon him. |1
hoping to persuade him to take a walk, and J1
return with nie to supper. I found him sit- ,1
ting at the window, iu the moonlight, with-1'
out fire or candle, his face concealed by his !
hands, and his whole frame shivciing with : <
cold, for it was freezing hard. By slow de- i 1
grees 1 drew him from his lethargy, persund- j ]
ed him to accompany me, and exhorted him <
to shake off his sadness. lie came out with 1
uie, but was dark and despairing on that I i
evening, and refused all consolation. j i
"?I hate the world,' said he with a pas- j
sion. "I hate uiyself. No one understands j I
me or cares about me; I have genius, and ; ?
am treated like a pariah; I have a heart, 11
and no one to love. I am completely mis- 1
erable."
"I made no reply. It was useless to dis- I
pute with Beethoven, and I let him contin- j;
ue in the same strain. He did notecase till I <
we re-entered the city, and then he relapsed
iuto a sad silence. We crossed a ddrk, nar- i
row street, near the gate of Coblentz. At ]
once he stopped.
"Hush !" said he, {what is that uoise V
"1 listened, and heard the faint tones of t
an old piano issuing - from some house at a 1
little distance. It was a plaintive melody
in triple time, and, aetwitiuUad the pover- 1
.. - 'v'~
ty of the instrument, the performer gave to
thi3 piece great tenderness of expression.
' Beethoven looked at ine with sparkling
eyes. 'It is taken from my symphony iu
F,' said he; "here is the house.' Listen;
how well it is played."
"The house was poor and humble, and a
light glimmered through the chinks of the
shutter. lie stopped to listen. In the middle
of the finale there was a sudden interruption,
silence for a moment, then a stifled
voice was heard."
" 'I cannot go on," said a female voice.
"I can go no farther this evening, Frederick."
"Why, sister?"
"I scarcely know, unless it is because the
composition is so beautiful that I feel incapable
of doing justice to it. I am so foiid of
music. Oh ! what would I not give to hear
that piece played by some one who could do
it justice."
"Ah. dear sister," said Frederick, sighing,
"one must be rich to procure that enjoyment.
What is the use of regretting when there is
ao help for it? W-c can scarcely pay our
rent; why think of tliiugs far beyond our
reach?"
"You arc right, Frederick ; and yet when
r nm nlnriniT T Iniirr unun in niv lifi* til henr
.. ?... J ...
*ood music well executed. 15ut it is useless!
it is useless!"
"There was souiethiug singularly touching
iti the tone and repetition of the last
words.
"Beethoven looked at me." "Let us enter"
said he, abruptly.
"Enter!" said 1; "why should wc enter?"
"I will play to her," replied lie, with viracity.
"She lias feeling, genius, intelligence;
I will play to her, and she will appreciate
me." And before I could prevent
aim, his hand was on the door. It was not
ocked, and opened immediately. I followed
him across a dark corridor, towards a halfipc-ned
door to the right. He pushed it,
ind we found ourselves in a poor, destitute
room, with a little stove at one end, and
some coarse furniture. A pale young man
was seated at the table, working at a shoe.
Sear him, bending in a melancholy manner
>vor an old piano, was a young girl. Both
were cleanly, hut very poorly dressed; they
osc and turned .towards us as we entered.
"Pardon mo," said Beethoven, somewhat
iuibarrasscd, "pardon me, but 1 heard mulic,
and was tempted to enter. I am a mulician!"
"The girl blushed, and the young mau
issumed a grave, almost severe manner."
"I heard also some of your words,' coninued
my friend. "You wish to hear?
hat is, you would like?in short, would you
ike me to play to you ?"
There was something so abrupt, so comi
sal, in the whole affair, and something so
igreeable and eccentric in the manners of
liiu who had spoken, that the ice wa*broken
n an instant, and all involuntarily smiled.
Thank you," said the young shoemaker,
but our piano is bad, and then we have
to music!"
"No music!" repeated my friend ; how
hen did .Mademoiselle . He stopped
ind colored; for the young girl had just
urned towards him, ami by her sad, veiled
syes he saw that she \va blind.
"I?I entreat you to portion me," stamnered
be; "but [ did not remark at first.?
fou play then from memory?"
"Entirely."
"And where have you heard this music
jefore?"
"I heard a lady who was a neighbor at
drutld, two years ago. lturing the sumner
evenings her window was always open,
tnd I walked before the house to hear Iter."
"And you have never heard any other
liusic ?"
"Never, excepting the music in the
itreets."
"She seemed, frightened ; so Beethoven
lid not add another word, but quietly seatid
himself at the instrument, and connncn:ed
to play. He bad not touched mauy
jotes when I guessed what would follow,
tnd how sublime he would be that evening;
md I was not deceived. Never, never, durng
the many years 1 knew him, did I hear
tint play as on ilsis day for the young blind
rirl and her brother. Never did I hear such
mergy, such passionate tenderness, such
gradations of melody and modulation. From
,hc moment his fingers commenced to move
>ver the Diauo, the tones of the instrument
ieemcd to soften and become more equal.
"We remained silting, listeuiiiir to liiin
jreathlessly. The brother and sister were
lutnh with astonish merit, as if paralyzed.?
I'he former had laid aside his work ; the lat:er,
her head slightly inclined, had approachid
the instrument, hertwo bauds were claspid
on her breast as is 9he feared the beating
>f her heart might interrupt those accents of
magic sweetness. It seemed as if wo were
the subjects of a strauge dream, and our only
fear was to wake too sooii.
"Suddenly the flame of the solitary canBe
flickered, the wi'k, consumec to the end,
fell, and was extinguished. Beethoven stopped
; I opened rhe shutters to let in the rays
jf the moon, h became almost us light as
before iD the room, and the radiance fell
more strongly tin the musiciau and instrument.
"But this incident, seemed to have broken
:he chain of Beethoven's ideas, llis head
.Iropped on his breast, his hands rented on
bis knees, he appeared plunged into a profound
meditation
"He remained so for some time. At last
die young shoemaker rose, approached him,
ind said, iu a low, respectful voice, 'WouJerful
man, who are you, then ?"
"Ucethoveu raised his head, and looked
it him abstractedly, as if he had uot compreuended
the meaning of his words."
The young man repeated the question.
"The composer smiled as only he could
smile, such sweetness and kingly benevolence.
"Listen," said he. And he played the
tot movement iu the F. symphony.
' .
. *V ' - - ' - ? ? * ~ ~
"A cry of joy escaped from the lips of the
brother and sister. Ihey recognized him.
and cried with emotion, 'You are, then,
Beethoven."
"lie rose to go, bat our entreaties succeeded
in detaiuing him.
"Play to us once more, just once more.'
"lie allowed himself to be led to the instrument.
The brilliant light of the moon
entered the curtaiuless window, and lighted
up his expansive, earnest forehead.
"I am going to improvise a sonata to the
moonlight," said he, playfully. lie contemplated
for some minutes the sky sprinkled
with stars,-en his fingers rested on
the piano, and he commenced to play in a
low, sad, but wonderously sweet strain. The
harmony issued from the instrument. ~"eet
and even as the rays of the moon sprea* over
the shadows on the ground. This delicious
overture was followed by a piece in triple
time, lively, light, capricious, a sort of intermediate
burlesque, like a dance of fairies
at midnight on the grass. Then came a rapid
af/itato finale?a breathless movement,
trembling, hurrying, describing flight and
uncertainty, inspiring vague and instinctive
terror, which bore us onward on its shuddering
wings, and left us at last quite agitated
with surm ise and moved to tears.
"Adieu," said Beethoven, abruptly pushing
back bis chair and advancing to the door
?<*?adieu!"
"You will come again?" asked both at
the same time.
"He stopped, and regarded the young
blind girl with an air of compassion.
"Yes, yes," said he, hurriedly. "I will
come again and give some lessons to Mademoiselle.
Farewell, I will soon come again."
"They followed us to the door in silence
more expressive than words, and remained
standing on the threshold till we were out of
sight.
"Let us hasten home," said Beethoven to
me in the street. "Let us hasten, that I
may cote dowu this sonata while it is in my
memory."
"lie entered his room, and he wrote till
nearly daybreak."
I still sat in a listening attitude after the
j old musician had finished speaking.
"And did Beethoven give lessons afterwards
to the blind girl ?" asked I at length.
He smiled, and shook his bead sadly.
"Beethoven never entered that humble
bouse again. With the excitement, his interest
in the blind girl was passed away; and
through the brother and sister long and patiently
awaited his coming, he thought no
more of them."
And is it not too often so in life ?
\ Select Heading.
CHRONOLOGY FOR 1857.
According to the Cultivator Almanac?a
very excel len^work published at Albany?
the year of the vulgar, or Christian era, 1857,
corresponds with the 1861st from the birth
of Christ ; with the latter part of the 81st.
and beginning of the 82d of the Independence'
f the United States of America, which
| was declared Thursday, July 4, 1776; with
; the close of the 1226th of the Persian Era,
which began Tuesday, Juno 19, (X. S.) 622
A. J)., (the years of this era begin now on
the 29th of August;) with the latter part of
the 1273d of the Hcgira, or Mahommedan
Rra; with the 1305th of the Armenian Ecclestical
year; with the ""'"3d of the era of
; Diocletian, or Era of Martyrs; with the
j 1895th of the era of the Cresars or Spanish
Era; with the 1902d of the Julean Era, or
J since the reformation of the Calendar of Nuj
ma Pompiliire, by Julias Caesar; with the
j 2169th of the Grecian Era of the Scleucidm;
with the 2606 of the Babylonish Era of Na!
bonnassar, used by Hipparchus and Ptolmy,
j (this era dates from Wednesday, Feb. 18th,
N. S., 747 B. C., according to chronologers,
or 746 B. C. according to astronomers.)?
! The years contained 365 days only, and have
i consequently now advanced upon the GeorI
gian year, 629 days. The 2606th year bej
gins May 30, 1857; with the 2610th (acj
cording to Yarro) of the old Roman Era A.
j U. C.; with the 2683d of the Olympiads,
or the latter part of ~thc 4th of 658th year,
i and beginning of the 1st of the 059th Olym1
paid of 4 years ; with the 3S72d the Era of
I Abraham, used by Muse bias; with tue <*2Wi>iu
; from the Deluge, according to Usher and the
I English Bible; with the 4950th of the Cali
1 Yuga, or Hindoo and Indian Era, which
dates from the Deluge; with the 4254th of
! the Chinese, or the 54th of her 71st cycle;
| with the 5617th of the Creation of the World,
according to the Minor Era of the Jews; of
I the 6216th, according to the greater Rabinical
Era of the Jews; with the 6085th, according
toEusebius; with the 5801st, according
to Scaliger; with the 5861st, according
to Usher and the English Bible;
with the 7349th, according to the Antiochi!
an and Abysinian Eras; with the 7359th,
according to the Alexandian Era; with the
7365th, according to the Era of Constantinople,
used by the Byzantine historians.
The age of the world is involved in great
obscurity. There arc about one hundred and
forty different eras, respecting it, some claiming
'he world to be more than three millions
of years old. Julius Africanus, following the
Septuagint version of the Bible, which is the
most reliable authority for chronology that is
kiiown, makes the creation to have taken
place on the 1st ot the Jewish month Xisri,
5508 13. 0., or 7365 years ago. The 5618th
year of the Jews begins on the 19th September.
The 1274th year of the Muhummedan
Era begins August 22d.
Not all Desolate.?Moss will grow upon
the grave-stones, the ivy will cling to the
mouldering pile, themisleto will spring from
the dying branch) and, God be praised !
something green, something fair to the sight
und grateful to the heart, will twine around
and grow out of the seams and cracks of the
desolate temple of the human heart.
;-v 1 - .
" ' -i - -ilk 'il'.
THE INDIAN STORY.
The rapid growth of northern Illinois commenced
at the conclusion of the war of
1812. The log huts of the Indians suddenly
disappeared, the smoke of the wigwams
no longer ascended toward the heavens.
The rapid improvements commenced by
the white man, had driven them into the
prairies, and the wigwams were uo longer
pitched in the vicinity of the towns, except
when they came to barter their furs for goods.
The music of the saw, axe and hammer had
driven the game far away.
The Indian's land east of the Mississippi
had already been ceded to government by
treaty, and the red men only dwelt there, by
the consent of government. When the Indiaus
went away, I went with them. I took
..... ... . ... a. 1 j . ,.e .1,?
up uiy ijuuiicis ul iiic ucuu wuicis ui iiic
Wisseba, at the junction of two important
streams, tributaries to the great father of
waters, and opened my store for trade.
After exposing my goods, in all their Indian
varieties, for some days, without any
success in selling, I became almost discouraged,
and nearly concluded to give it up.
The Indians would come into my store by
dozens, and after examiuing my goods, go
away without purchasing. They had plenty j
of shu-nc-ah (money ) and furs, but bought ,
no goods, and the reason was a mystery to ;
me.
At length the chief of the nation came in 1
company with a crowd of Indians. He instantly
exclaimed, " How do, Thomas ?
| Come, show me nice goods. What do you
ask for this? I'll take four yards of calico
?three coon-skins for one yard?half a dolj
lar exactly?by-m by, tomorrow, I'll pay
%)
you.
The next day he came accompanied by his
' whole band. His blanket above bis waist
j was stuffed with coon-skins. ? American, I
will pay that bill now," said the Indian.
Suiting the action to the word, he began
to pull the skins from his blanket, and counting
out twelve, held the thirteenth in his
hand, and finally laid it upou the rest, exclaiming,
" That's it, exactly." I gave it
back to him, telling him he owed but twelve,
I onrl fh/* Ornof Snirif trnnlil nnt lpf. mr>
him. Wo continued to pass it back and
forth, each one asserting that it belonged to
the other. At last he appeared satisfied, and
gave me a scrutinizing look; then placing
the skin within the folds of his blanket, he
stepped to the door, and with a yell cried,
" Come!?come in, all you, and trade with
the pale face?he's honest?he will not
cheat the Indian, he believes in the Great
Spirit?his heart is big, he is an honest trader!"
He then turned to me, and said, "If you
had taken that one coon skin, I and my people
would have had nothing to do with you,
and would have driven you away like a dog;
but now I have found that you are the Indian's
friend, and we shall be yours."
The Indians then began flocking into the
store, and to trade, and before the sun had
gone down, I was waist deep in furs, and
shu-ne-ah in plenty. That one coon-skin
1 saved me.
HON. HENRY W. HILLIARD.
! At the recent Alabama Conference of the
I Methodist Episcopal Church, Hon. II. W.
i Milliard announced his intention of returning
to the ministry, lie had been alluded
to in Conference as probable editor of the
Methodist organ to bo established in Montgomery,
and the proposition meeting with
some question, Mr. Milliard arose, and turning
to Bithop Pierce, presiding, addressed J
him as follows:
l- I tTrttl ln,l f.An.1 ni,' VirAlliar in flilo !
"1(i"tJuu '"J "'J
! great work ! Henceforward our paths of life
I shall not diverge! I come, in the maturity of
1 my manhood, deliberately to lay my heart, in- j
j tcllect, and whatever of trophies I may j
j have won in other walks of life, profession- :
j al or political, humbly at the foot of the j
j Cross, with motives which befit the service of;
| my Master.
"Let it be distinctly understood, that no I
; vote which this Conference may take upon
| the pending proposition, can afi'cct my resolution
to give tuv self to this work. At
j i I
! home and abroad?in *ruy solitary journey- j
j ings?or standing iu the palaces of kings, I
have never forgotten my early vows. I have j
! seen the beginning and end of earthly great- j
I ness.
"Intimately associated with some of the j
i first living statesmen of this age and coun- i
; try, I have seen them pass away from this \
i earth ! Sir, I know the vanity of earthly j
' things ! I come humbly, but I come pre- !
i serving that self-respect without which I j
should not be meet for the Master's service. !
" I ask nothing from this Conference on
my personal account. Let the vo*' have no
j reference to me. No, no, sir ! 1 hrvj never
lowered my cre3t. when facing political parties
in the day of battle I preserve my
sclf-rcspect, but I desire to achieve somewhat.
that will enable me, when this world
burns up, to be recognised by the Great Head
of the Church,as a friend of Christ, and to
take ray place, however humble, among
martrys and' saints who have loved and
served him on earth!"
This is the substance of his remarks dej
livered to the spell-bound audience. It was
j a scene of intense moral sublimity. May
he find grace equal to his noble resolution 1
Long may he live to edify the Chuch; and
? i .i .r _ _
j linally win ana wear ine crown 01 enuiegs
joy and glory.?Macon Telegraph.
AST" There is no newspaper editor or publisher
in the world who will not fully endorse
the correctness of the following scrap which
we find floatiug the rounds of the press:
"You may insert a thousand excellent
things in a newspaper, and never hear a word
of approbation or remark from the readers;
but just let a little paragraph slip in (by accident
or indifference) of one or two linea
that is not in good taste, and you may be
sure of hearing about that to your heart's
| content.
?
it is bishoAw to U beat, not to taut
*
AN ACT
foil the better establishment of a
general 8ystem of registration of
births, marriages anirdeaths, in tiie
state of south carolina.
Sec. 1. Be it enacted by the Senate and
House of Representatives, now met and sitting
in Genera! Assembly, and by the authority
of the same. That from and after
the passing of this Act, it shall be the duty
of the Tax Collectors of the different districts
and parishes of this State, to require
of the inhabitants of the said districts and
parishes, at the tiuic of making the general
tax returns, a separate return stating the
number of whites, male and female, who
have been born, married, or who have died
during the year in their respective households,
and the number of blacks who have
been born, or who have died during the
same period, and return the same to the
Comptroller General; aud in each case in
which the Tax Collector neglects bv duty,
he shall be fined five dollars, and the citizen
refusing charged five per cent, on his general
tax. i
Sf.c. 2. Thnt one Register shall be np- j
pointed by the Governor, whose duty it shall
be to receive from the respective offices of |
the Comptroller General, in Charleston and j
Columbia, the returns of the Tax Collectors,!
and make and publish a full report of the
same annually, filing a copy of his report in
the Comptroller General's office, both in
Charleston and Columbia.
Sec. 3. That in order to ascertain as accurately
as possible the number of births,
marriages and deaths of non-tax paying
whites, it shall be the duty of the Tax Collector
to ascertain from the magistrate, physicians
and ministers of the Gospel, of the
different districts and parishes, the number
of births, marriages aud deaths that have
taken place among the persons within their
jurisdiction, or belonging to their congregations
respectively; and it shall be the duty
nf the Registrar to draw out a proper form of j
registration for the Tax Collectors of the
different districts and parishes, and for the
use of the magistrates and ministers of the
Gospel, of the said districts and parishes.
Sec. 4. That the said Registrar shall receive
annually the sum of four hundred dollars
for his services.
Sec.. 5. That the Tax Collectors shall be
entitled to retain out of the taxes collected
by them, three cents for the entry of each
birth, death or marriage required by this
Act.
In the Senate House the twentieth day of
December, in the year of our Lord one
thousand eight hundred and fifty-six, and
in the eighty-first year of the sovereignty
and independence of the United States of
America.
JAMES CHESNUT, Jr.,
President of the Senate.
JAMES SIMONS,
Speaker of the House of Representatives.
The Newly Invented War Engine.?
A correspondent of the New York Journal
of Commerce, alluding to the "Infernal Machiue"
which Gen. Walker's friends have
recently purchased for his army iu Nicaftgua,
thus explains its efficiency and deadly instrumentality
:
In form it resembles a small grindstone,
turned by a crank, and will discharge 300
one ounce balls every minute, attended by
only two men. Every machine is calculated
to destroy three regiments of soldiers in the
same space of time. It can be directed with
the same ease as a common rifle is handled.
The inventor, a Yankee, is now in England
experimenting before the Admiralty,
and a great many old Generals, of all countries,
who evince much interest, and have
written hiui letters expressive of their wouder
and astonishment. One distinguished
Polish General expresses himself to the
inventor, "that as soon as this deadly weapon
becomes in use, wars and rumors of
war must cease." The gun, or machine,
discharges without report, and sends the ball
three times the distance of the ordinary rifle
or cannon, as the case may be." The British
government has offered the inventor ?200,-:
000 sterling, if he can enlarge his machine I
to discharge a 64 pound shot. This he is j
now doing, and informs his agent here he ;
shall accomplish it. The Kussian Minister
at London is anxious for the patent, and has
offered him his price; but he says to his
friends, "I mean no other nation shall have
it, but England, and my own country."
Previous to his going to Europe, he offer- (
ed the right to the Americah Government at
Washington. Experiments were made with
one ounce and seven pound cannonades, before
our naval and other officers, by order of
the Secretary of State, 'which proves all I (
have related above and to the entire satisfac- j
tion of those present. One of these "infernal
machines," placed upon the deck of a
vessel, one of the Commodores remarked,
"would sink a frigate in three minutes."? (
Such a constant discharge of balls, just as ]
fast as thev can be handled and rolled in, ,
with the accuracy they can be directed, must j
inevitably destroy all before it, besides the (
great distance and out of danger of the ene- ,
my's guns.
"I'll Call Around and Pay."?What .1
a world of woe is contained in these few ,
words to the poor artizan and mechanic!?
"I'll call around and pay," says the rich j
man, to avoid the trouble of going to his
desk to get the necessary funds, and the poor j
mechanic is obliged to go home to disappoint
his workmen and all who depend upon him
for their dues. It is ao easy matter to work; t
the only real glory in this life is an indepen- 1
dent idea of being able to sustain yourself ,
by the labor of your own hands, and it may 1
be easily imagined what crushing force there ,
>: ,.TJ11 ..II j tVia 1?_
is iu ? ! 11 can aruuuu uuu
boring inan, who depends upon that pay for
subsistence. If those who could pay would ,
only pay at once, it would place hundreds
and thousands in a oondition to do likewise^
,A Good Name.?A good name is above,
all price. Have you not found it so, young .
man, you whose well-known virtues have
placed you in a position which you occupywith
feelings of commendable pride ? ' And
you whose fame has been the target of ,eu?,
vious tongues, have you not seen a good
uamc to be the only breastplate that isinir
pervious to the poisoned shaft of calu&ny 7
Gold and talent, what are those witboQt-eha&
acter ? A light to render darkness visible ;
a gilding which by contrast makes the sub*,
stance the more revolting? ... ^
Cherish it then, all ye who possess it, guard
it carefully,?for, depend upoo this, its pari-*
ty once tarnished, the most unwearying effort
will hardly restore it to its pristine lusfoe.?.
Let it attend you through the journey .of
life, crowning your days with peace and hap-'
piness. The rectitude which won' it, witt,
engrave upon your face a letter of iecofc
mendation to people of every nation and'
tongue. And when the treasure is no longer
needful to you, it shall descend to your
posterity, a legacy with which millions wonfit
not bear to be compared.
You who are just on the stepping-stone ib
active life, remember the value of a. g?o# J
name. He it your constant endeavor to eam!
it for yourself, in the only practicable W?j^
?by pursuing the path of undeviating ic?'
tegrity. Let all your intercourse With you* 3
fellow creatures be marked by such conduct
as you ueed not blnsh to see recorded befoft
the eyes of the congregated world; such ifl ,
will never cause any to blush for theirconnection
with you. A good name is a laurel
wreath for the brow of its possessor, but 'M' ;
bad name is a swift-footed pestilence to follow
with its scathing iufluence wherever he
goes. *** 4
; .
A GOOD ANECDOTE.
During the inauguration of Gen. Tfrylegf
at Washington, D. C., March 4th, 1848*
the police regulations, as usual, required
that .after the speech of the new President
had commenced, the gates of the Gapitol
Grounds should be closed, and no carriage,
of any kind allowed to pass until the apeeoh
was finished, to prevent confusion. V
The Minister of all the Russiaa, M. Bodisca,
was very late, and after the speech had
begun drove up to the gate in great haate,
the horses covered with foam, when tfte
coachman shouted to the guard, " Open so
gate, iv you please." The guard shook; hit
head aod stood still. The footman nixt
called out. " Will jou open ze gates far
Russian Minister ?" The guard agaufahooi^
his head, without answering a word. Next, ~ *
the grand Minister put hb head out of ' ^
carriage window aud called to the guard':
? Open ze gates to ze gran Minister of all
ze Russias, Minister Pleoipoteuiars, M.
Bodisca: I aiu ze Minuter." 1
- ' ' * *"%r
There was a great crowd around the gates,
within and without, and all tbb fuss created
quite a stir. The guard drew himsietf Up,
and in a firm and pleasant manner, replied^
" If you were a free born Atnorican citizen
of these United States of America, you
could not pass these gates in a carriage."
The crowd came very near giving three
cheers for the guard, but better maqaen pijji
vailed, and M. Bodisca stepped out of h?B
elegant equipage, and entered the side gate
with the sovereign people, his carriage; re*,
maining outside until all the ceremonies*
were over. yi.
??>>:
BATHEB AWKWABD. J
An Irish woman presented herself-gt the*
office of one of our young lawyers on Friday
last, with a complaint agaitUt.her lillft*
band for abuse and ill-treatment. > While re-' ^
lating the history of her wrongs to the.pttenlive
and gentlemanly <member of the. bar/
she appeared to be taken quite suddenly ill,
-- I-- *! ?..i mitk Atimn^omd nf OAma VAftV
ad 11c luuu^ub) nit 11 ojriu^iuma vt dvww ivtj
acute disease; perhaps it was cholera, though
he knew there was none in the cfty.-'-He
immediately helped the lady to his bed in
the next room, and started off for a: physician
in hot haste. The physician soon arrived,
and after an examination of the^oiaft ~
pronounced that our legal gentleman would
soon rejoice in an increase to his &mily. ->
Oly family/ shrieked the lawyer, ~<tb?t
woman is only my client. Great goodness,
what shall I do with her?'
?Vou had better get a carriage; Mr.-?
and take her home/ said the doctor. '
This, the most sensible advice under circumstances,
was taken, and the last that was
seen of our young aspirant for legal honors, '
he was carrying his client home in a public
carriage, and giving her all the consolation
be possibly could, uuder the most peculiar
circumstances of the case. His next work
was to proceed immediately to the police
office, and enter a complaint against her brutal
husband, who, we hope, will meet with
bis just deserts for his conduot in tW affair.
.
THE WAHDEBING JEW. >
A sensation was created in William street,
on Tuesday morning, by the appeeranet of
i man on the pave with a long floating beard,
und dressed in loose pantaloons, with a tarban
on his head. He carried in
& little manuscript Hebrew book, oat of
which he read to the crowd that gathered
wound him. He represented himself is the
rentable Wandering Jew. Nobody knefH
who he is, or where be came from,
ed Jewis Rabbi, was sent for to converse
with him, which they did in the Hebrew
language, and the stranger was found to be
perfeot in his knowledge of that most difficult
tongue. The Rabbi tested him 4b
Arabic, in Pbenician, and in the Sanscrit,
but soon found that the aged stronger far
surpassed him in intimacy with ttain all.
The Rabbi invited him to his house.; but,
said the stranger, "nay, I cannot stop. The
Crucified One of Calvary has pronounced the
edict, and I may not rest. I muse move on
?ever on!" He was last seen on Thursday,
bnt to where he has departed no one
oantell.
19* It is not always a loveabla face that is
wrartd with anil,
- - ,r:
"