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* ^ jjj jj " r ~ ' ""' _ * _ _ _ . _ g?* a _ -j? rao. i. mhleb& co?- Proprietors, j Ail Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. j lewis k. oeist, pubimwr. | VOL 3. YORKYILLE, 8. C., THURSDAY, MARCH 26, 1857. NO. 13. Original JJoelrg. j For the Yorkville Enquirer. ODE TO SPRING. 1 Sweetly sighing !1 Love's replying * j To the heart-sick woods and rills, " ! ^ Modest maiden, Blushing uAiden" Come in song upon the hills. . 1 Winter's snowing, And his blowing, Nip the soul's empurpled flowers ; i And, distilling , Grief, his chilling . Ice-breath kills the rosy hours. J Come, then, wooing, ] To the cooing Of the pine-enamored dove, Sweet re-cooing ? To the wooing ] Of her early-mated love. i I Charmed at yonder f Bird of wonder, i Catch the spirit or his song ; Arid, appealing To their feeling, ] Wake from death the flower-throng. < Pouring daylight O'er the gray height Of yon spicy mountain, bring 1 Tropic blessings, . \ Sol's carcssings, On thine odor-lnden wing. ^ Many an olden, . < Many a golden, Bove-thought in the poet's heart, Thou bast planted, As he panted, l Pierced with Cupid's fiery dart. Days of "Aiden," ! Lovely maiden! . 1 To the fancy-raptured young, , As they wander, Wildly yonder, Rocks, and rills, and meads among; i Days of gladness For the sadness Of the care-worn, bringest thou ; Asking only j y Of the lonely w But a grief-dispelling brow. < Hours sweet-gleaming i Are the beaming * . Aureola of thy head, Bendiny o'er thee, As \f o'er thee, ] Bent the sainted of the dead. , Sunbeams, laden, Passionate mAiden ! 1 With'thy smiles o'er earth are hurl'd : { While thv fineer Soft doth linger On the harp-strings of the world. i I Bring thy blushes . To the rushes In the marshes by the sea ; And thy whispers < To the lispers Of the wild-woods melody. ( "Wake the mountains, * . i And the fountains, , Where the tiny hunter's-cup Scoops sweet-waters 1 For the daughters - 1 Of our sunny "Southron" ? up. j l Yorkville maidens,? Our's and "Aiden's,"? i Teach that love alone is joy; \ And their bonnets , Line with sonnets?>, Sonnets to the love #icfr boy ! i t Bring an olden, I unng a goiuen, Bring a poet's, joy to all; And the nations, j With thy passions, Lift from everlasting thrall. Teach Bncbanan ; How to rein man With the bit that checks the free ; Wed our ,4Aiden" < To the maiden? , Constitutional Liberty! WILLIE. Ebskine College. March 4tb, 1857. ^??? i % Cljrilliiig Stars. THE PEDLER'8 PRTIET ^ A cold winter's night found a stage-load of us gathered about the warm fire of a tav- 1 ern bar-room of a New England village.? Shortly after we arrived, a pedler drove up ' and ordered that his horse should be stabled for the night. After we had eaten supper we repaired to the bar-room, and as soon as the ice was broken the conversation flowed freely. Several anecdotes had been related, and finally the pedler was asked to give us a story, a9 men of his profession were generaly full of adventures and anecdotes. He was a short, thickset man, somewhere about forty years of age, and gave evidence of great physical strength. He gave his name as Lemuel Viney, and his home was in Dover, : New Hampshire. 'Well, gentlemen,' he commenced, knocking the ashes from his pipe and putting it in his pocket, "suppose I tell you abdht the : last thing of any consequence that happen- j o<1 tn mp Yon spp T am ttitw rlcrhf frnm the Far West, and on my way home for winter quarters. It was about two months ago, one pleasant evening, that I pulled up at the door of a small village tavern in Hancock county, Indiana. I said it was pleasant?I meant it was warm, but it was cloudy and very likely to b? dark. I went in and called for supper, and I had my horse taken care of, and after I had eaten I sat down in the bar-room. It began to rain about eight o'clock, and for a while it poured down good, and it was awful dark out doors. "Now, I wanted to be in Jackson early the next morning, for I expected a load of goods there for me, which L intended to dispose of on my way home. The moon would rise about midnight, and I knew if it did not rain I could get along very comfortably through the mud after that. So I asked the landlord if he could not see that my horse was fed about midnight, as I wished to be off before twOj He expressed some surprise at this, asked me why not stop for breakfast. I told him I bad sold my last load about all | out, and that a new lot of goods was waiting for me at Jackson, and I wanted to be there before the express agent left in the morning. There was a Dumber of people sitting arouud while I told this, but I took but little notice of them ; only one arrested my attention. 1 had in my possession a small package ol placards, which I was to deliver to the Sherj iff of Jackson, and tbey were notices for the detection of a notorious robber named Dick Hardhead. The bills gave a description ol his person, and the man before me answered very well to it. In fact it was perfect. He was a tall, well-formed man, rather slight in Frame, and had the appearance of a gentleman, save that his face bore those hard, crusi marks, which an observing man cannol mistake for anything but the index of a villainous disposition. "When I went to my chamber I asked the landlord who that man was, describing the suspicious individual. He said he did not know him. He had come there tbat afternoon and intended to leave the next day.? The host asked why I wished to know, and [ simply told him that the man's countenance was familiar, and I merely wished to know if I wascver acquainted with hitn. I resolved not to let the landlord into the se;ret, bnt hurry on to Jackson, and there give information to the sheriff, and, perhaps he might reach the inn before the villain left; for I had no doubt in regard to his identity "I had an alarm watch, and having set it to give the alarm at one o'clock, I went to sleep. I was aroused at the proper time, ind immediately got up and dressed myself. When I reached the yard, I found the clouds ill passed away and the moon was shining brightly. The hostler was easily aroused, ind by two o'clock I was on the road. The mud was deep my horse could not travel very fast?yet it struck me that the beast made more work than there was any need of "or the cart was nearly empty. "However, on we went, and in the course )f half an hour I was clear of the village.? \t a short distance ahead lay a large tract of 'orest, mostly of great pines. The road led directly though this wood, and as near as I :ould remember, the distance was twelve ailes. Yet the moon was in the east, and is the road ran nearly west, I should have ight enough. I had entered the woods, aud rvAnn Kolf n milo txrhon mr wnnrAM lullPok1 JUU uua u UII1V 1IMVU mij tim^vu ti ttw jettlcd with a bump and jerk, into a deep bole. I uttered an exclamation of astonishment, but that was not all. I heard another ;xclamation from another source! "What could it be? I looked quickly iround, but could see nothing. Yet I knew that the sound I heard was close to me. As the hind wheels came up, I felt something besides the jerk of the wheels. I heard something tumble from one side to the other }f my wagon, and I could also feel the jar jccasioned by the movement. It was a man in ray cart! I simply knew this on the instant. Of course I felt puzzled. At first I magined some poor fellow had taken this method to obtain a ride; but I soon gave ;his up, for I knew that any decent man would have asked me for a ride. My next dea was that somebody had got in to sleep; jut this passed away as quickly as it came, 'or no man would have broken into my cart for that purpose. And that thought, gen:lemcn, opened my eyes. "Whoever was in :here had broken in. "My next thought were of Dick Hardhead. He had heard me say that my load was all sold out, and of course he supposed [ had some money with me. . In this he was right, for I .had over two thousand dollars. [ also thought he meant to leave the cart when he supposed I had reached a safe place, md then either creep over and shoot me, 01 knock me down. All this passed through rv?*? minrl V\tt flirt fimrt T Kor] r?rtf O Vrtrl frAin llljf UllUU Mjr lUb blUiVy X UUV* u :u'j iivm the hole. "Now I never make it a point to brag ol myself, but I have seen a great deal of the world, and I am pretty cool aDd clear headed under a difficulty. In a very few moments my resolution was formed. My horse was now knee deep in the mud, and I knew I could slip off without noise. So I drew my revolver?I never travel in that country without one?I drew this, and having twined the reins about the whip stock, I carefully slid down in the mud, and as the cart passed on I went behind it and examined the hasp. "The door of the cart lets down, and is fastened by a hasp, which slides over a staple and is then secured by a padlock. The padlock was gone, and the hasp was secured in its place by a bit of pine?so that a slight force from within could break-it. My wheel wrench hung in a leather bucket on the side of the cart, and I quickly took it out and slipped it into the staple, the iron handle just slidding down. "Now I had hiiu. My cart was almost new. made in a stout frame of white oak,and made on purpose for hard usage. I did not believe any ordinary man could break out. I got on to my cart as noiselessly as I got off and then urged my horse on, still keeping ray pistol handy. I knew that at tlic distance of balf a mile further I should come to a good hard road, and so I allowed my horse to pick his own way through the mud, About ten minutes after this I heard a motion in the cart, followed by a grinding noise, as though some heavy force were being ap plied to the door. I said nothing, but the idea struck me that the villiau might judg( where I sat and shoot up through the top o; the cart at nie, so I sat down on the foot board. "Of course, I knew now that my unex pected posscnger was a villain, for lie mas have been awake ever since I started, am nothing in the world but absolute villain; would have caused him to remain quiet si long, and then start up in this particula place. The thumping and pounding grev louder and louder, and pretty soon I heard; human voice "Let me out of this/' he cried and hi yelled pretty loud. "I lifted up my head so as to make hin think I was sitting in my usual place, am then asked him what he was doing there.' 1 '"Let me out and I will tell you," be re- j ! plied. "Te^l me what you are there for," said I. j f ?I got in here to sleep on your rags," he [ answered. ! "Let me out or I'll shoot you through the : head, he yelled." F "Just at that moment my horse's feet I struck the hard road, and I knew that the i rest of the road to Juckson would be good i going. The distance was twelve miles. I slipped back on the foot-board and took the whip. I had the same horse I've pot now? ; a tall, stout, powerful bay mare?and you may believe there's some go in her. "At any rate she struck a gait that even astonished i me. She had received a good mess of oats, i the air was cool, and she felt like going. In ; fifteen minutes we cleared the woods, and away we went on a keen jump. The chap inside kept yelling to be let out. 1 "Finally he stopped, and in a few minutes came the report of. a pistol?one?two? ?. three?four, one right after the other, and I heard the balls whiz over mv head. If I had been on my seat, one of these ball, if not i two of them, would have pone through me. ! I popped up my head again, and pave a yell, ahd then a deep groan, and then I said, "Oh, God, save me! "I'm a dead man !" Then I made a shuffling noise, as though I were i falling off, and finally settled down on the i foot-board again. I now urged on the old mare by giving her an * occasional poke with the butt of my whip stock, and she pealed it i faster than ever. "The man called out to me twice more, pretty soon after this, and as he got no reply, he made some tremendous efforts to break ' the door open, and as this failed him, he made several attempts upon the top. But I ' had no fear of his doing anything there, for the top of the cart is framed in with dove- i tails, and each sleeper bolted to the posts with iron bolts. I had made it so I could i ' carry'heavy loads there. By-and-bye, after all else had failed, the scamp commenced to hollow whoa to the horse, and kept it upun-til he became quite hoarse. All this time I kept perfectly quiet holding the reins firmly, and kept poking tho beast with the stock. "We were not an hour in going that doz- , ! en miles?not a bit of it. I hadn't much fear?perhaps I might tell the truth, and say I had none, for I had a good pistol; and more than that my passenger was snfe; yet I was glad when I come to the old flour bar- , rel factory that stands at the edge of Jack- , son's village, and in ten minutes more I hauled up in front of the tavern, and found a couple of men in the barn cleaning down some stage horses. "Well, old feller," says I, as I got down, and went rouud to the back of the wagon ; "you have had a good ride, haven't ye ?" "Who are you?" he cried, he kind of! ? . .1 - 1 1 1,1. __ I swore a nttie, too, as ne asKea me question, i "I'm the man you tried to shoot," was my reply. "Where am I ? Let me out!" he yelled. "Look here, we've come to a safe stopping place, and mind ye, my revolver is ready for ye the moment you show yourself Now, , lay quiet!" "By this time the two hostlers had come up to see what was the matter, and I explained it to them. After this I got one of them to run and route out the sheriff, and tell what I believe I'd got for him. The first streaks of daylight were just coming up, and , in half an hour it would be broad daylight. In less than that time'the sheriff came, and two men came with him. I told the whole affair in a few words?exhibited the hand. bills I had for hiui, and then he made for the cart. He told the chinp inside who he was, and if he made the least resitance, he'd be a dead man. Then I slipped the irou . wrench out, and as I let the door down, the fellow made a spring, I caught him by the ankle, and he came dowu on his face, and in a moment more the officers had him. It was now daylight, and the moment I saw the chap I recognized him He was marched off to the lock up, and I told the sheriff 1 should remain in town all day. . "After breakfast, the sheriff came down ' to the tavern and told me that I had caught the very bird, and that if I would remain ' until the next morning I should have the reward of two huudred dollars, which had I been offered. I found my goods all safe, j paid the express agent for bringing them j j trom lndiun-apoiis, ana tncn went to wont i . tustow tlieui away in my cart. The bullet I I holes were found in the top of my vehicle ' {just as I expected. Tbey were in a line,) j about five inches apart; and had T been ! : i where I usually sit, two of threm would have ! j hit me somewhere nenr the small of the back, j ' j and passed upwards, for they were sent with j j a heavy charge of powder, and his pistol was 1 ' j a heavy one. i "On the next morning the sheriff called | ' upon me, and paid me two hundred dollars j in gold, for he made himself sure that he'd 1 got the villian. I afterwards found a letter > in the post-office at Pourtsmouth for me, j from the Sheriff of Hancock county, and he | informed me that Mr. Dick Hardhead is in j j prison for life." I So ended the pedler's story. In the morning I had the curiosity to look at the cart, ' and I found the bullet-holes just "as he "had ! told us, though they were now plugged up witn vial corus. . ^ A Parson in. Difficulty.?A young " parson lost his way in a forest, and it being vehemently cold and rainey, he happened up on a poor cottage, and desired a lodging or t hay loft to stay in, and some fire to warm 1 him. The man told him that he and his y wife had but one bed, and if he pleased to 3 lay with them he should be welcome. The r parson thanked him and kindly accepted it. v In the morning the man rose to go to mafa ket, and meeting some of his neighbors he fell a laughing. They asked him what made e him so merry about the mouth. " Why," says he, " I can't but think how shamed the a parson will be when he awakes to find himi self in bed with my wife."?Pittsburg (Pa.) ' Post. Select Mfafchtfl. ^ From the Western Democrat. CHARLOTTE, N. C. Besides the honor of being the seat of the Convention in 177f>, that issued the first Declaration of Independence, Charlotte, in Mecklenburg, North Caiolina, has claims upon posterity both singularand meritorious. The centre of a fertile and populous country, she was doomed to see the blood of her sous shed, and the Declaration of Independence of all foreign dominion maintained at the point of the British bayonet. Cornwallis called Charlotte the ''hornet's nest," and unwilling to pay for supplies with so much English blood, after the fatal battle at King's Mountain became known to,bim, his lordship determined to leave this vexatious post. To prevent annoyance, he chose to depart suddenly, and in the night. Mr. McCalferv a man of wealth and standing, a Scotchman, and resident in Charlotte, was chosen as their guide to lead them by the upper and nearest route to South Carolina.? After so bewildering the army in the swamps that much of their baggage was lost, he contrived to escape, and leave the army to find their way by the returning light of day. Colonel Thomas Polk, so favorably mentioned in the history of the Declaration, owned property in and around Charlotte.? His mill was between two and three miles south of the village, and is now called Bissel's. His body lies interred in the graveyard of the village. Over his grave and that of his wife Susannah, his son, William Polk, late of Ealeigh, erected a marble slab, a memorial of his resting place. The Polk family came early to Mecklenburg, and in the time of the Revolution were numerous, and some of them very wealthy They resided, part, of them, in the bounds of Sugar Creek congregation, and part of them in Providence. Among them was Ezekiel Polk, the grandfather of James K. Polk, President of the United States. The descendants have all emigrated from the country,'mostly to Tennessee, or States further South. Garden, in his anecdotes of the American Revolution, says : "Nor were the Indies in Mecklenburg in any degree inferior in enthusiasm to the male population. I find in the South Carolina and American General Gazette from the 2d to the 9th of February, the following paragraph: " ?The young ladies of the best families of Mecklenburg county, "North Carolina, have entered into a voluntary association that they will not receive the addresses of any tirvii nf~r rmntlomon of fViof nlonn ovnftnt thn juuu^ ^giiviwuiuii ub iuav piavv^ vnv brave volunteers who served in the expidition to South Carolina, and assisted in subduing the Scovalite insurgents. The ladies being of opinion that such persons as stay loitering at home, when the important calls of the country demartd their services abroad, must certainly be destitute of that nobleness of sentiment, that brave, manly spirit, which would qualify them to be the defenders and guardians of the fair sex.' "The ladies of the adjoining county of Rowan have desired the plan of a similar association to be drawn up and prepared for signatures."?Sketches of North- Carolina. JEFFERSON AND HENRY. The following sketch of Patrick Henry by his cotemporary, Mr. Jefferson, will be found interesting. It is taken from the advance sheets of a work soon to be issued by a Boston publisher, containing the private correspondence of Daniel Webster. In 1824 Mr. Webster visited Jefferson at his home at Monticello, and afterwards wrote out the following opinion of Henry, expressed by Mr. Jefferson at the time. Patrick Henry was originally a barkeeper. He was married very young, and going into some business, on his own account, was a bankrupt before the year was out. When I was about the age of fifteen, I left the school here, to go to the college at Williamsburg. I stopped a few days at a friend's in the county of Louisiana. There I first saw and become acquainted with Patrick Henry.? Having spent the Christmas holidays there, I proceeded to Williamsburg. Some questions arose about my admission, as my preparatory studies had not been pursued at the ? i 3 ?f.L <i . ? rrL* scnooi connected wun mai insmunon. imit delayed my admission about a fortnight, at which time Henry appeared at Williamsburg, and applied for a license to practice law, haviDg commenced the-study of it at, or subsequent to the time of my meeting him at Louisiana. There were four examiner??Wythe, Pendleton, Peyton Randolph and John Randolph. . Wythe and Pendleton at once' rejected his application. The two Randolphs, by his importunity, were prevailed upon to sign the license; and having obtained their signatures, he applied again to%Pendleton, after much entreaty and many promises of study succeeded in obtaining his. The first case which brought him into notice, was a contested election, in which he appeared as counsel before a committee of Burgesses. His second was the Parson's cause, already well known. These and similar efforts soon obtained for him so much reputation, that he was elected a member of the Legislature. He was as well suited to the times as any man ever was, and it is not easy to say what we should have done without Patrick Henry. He was far before all in maintaining the spirit of the Revolution. His influence was most extensive with the members from the upper counties, aqd his boldness and their votes overawed and controlled the more cool or the more timid aristocratic gentlemen of the lower part of the State. His eloquence was peculiar, if indeed it should be called eloquence.; for it was impressive ana sublime, beyond what can be imagined. Although it was difficult to know what he had said, yet, while he was speaking, it always seemed directly to the point. When he had spoken in opposition to my opinion, bad produced a * great effect, and I myself been highly delighted and moved, I have asked myself when he had censed : "What the devil hns he said ?" I could never answer the inquiry. His person was full size and his manner and voice free and manly. His utterance neither very fast nor very slow. His speeches very short, from a quarter to a half an hour. His pronunciation was vulgar and vicious, hut it was forgotten while he was speaking. He was a man of very little knowledge of any sort; he read nothing, and had no books, i Returning one November from Albemarle 1 court, he borrowed of me Humes Essay in I two volumes, saying he should have leisure | in the Winter for reading. In the spring 1 he returned them; and declared he had noti \ been able to go further than twenty pages in the first volume. He wrote almost nothing ?he could not write. The resolutions of 75 which have been ascribed to him, have by many supposed to have been written by Mr. ' Johnson, who acted as his second on that oc ic i? if i wuaiuu y uub 11 mcjf nciu milieu xjj uiujocii they are not such as to prove any power of ' composition. Neither in politics nor in his \ profession was he a man of business ) he ' was a man for debate only. His biographer 1 says that he read Plutarch every year. I doubt whether he ever read a volume of it 1 in his life. His temper was excellent, and * he generally observed decorum in debate.? ' On one or two occasions I have seen him 1 angry, and his anger was terrible: those who witnessed it were not disposed to rouse 1 it again. In his opinions he was yielding ( and practicable and not disposed to differ 1 from his friends. In private conversation i he was agreeable and facetious and while in genteel society, appeared to understand all 1 the decencies and proprieties of it 5 but, in 1 his heart, lie preferred low society, and sought it as often as possible. He would hunt in 1 the pine woods of Fluvanna; with overseers, ' and people of that description, living in a 1 camp for a fortnight at a time without a 1 change of raiment. I have often been as- ' tooishedat his command of proper language; ' how he attained a knowledge of it I never 1 could find out as he read so little and con- ' versed little with educated men. After all, ' it must be allowed that he was our leader in ' the measures of the Revolution in Virginia. In that respect more was due him that any ' other person. If we had not had hiin, we ' should probably have got out pretty well, ' as you did, by a number of men of nearly ' equal talents, but he left us all far behind. His biographer sent the sheets of his work to me as they were printed, and at the end asked my opinion. I told him it would be a ; question hereafter, whether his work should 1 i be placed on the shelf of history or pane| gyric. CHRIST NO WRITER. One of the most remarkable facts in the : history of Christ is, that he left no writings behind him, and the ouly record there is of his writing anything is in the case where 'he stcoped down and with his finger wrote upon 1 the ground." What he wrote then and there no one knows; though perhaps the most plausible conjecture is that he wrote the answer to the question, whether the woman taken in the act of adultery should be stoned ? "He that is without sin among 1 you, let him cast a stone at her." Hearer, did this strange fact ever occur to you, that the greatest reformer that ever lived?professedly the divine teacher sent of God to reveal his truth to the world?whose teachings have survived the wreck of ages, and now command the credence, the respect and 1 the most profound admiration of the enlightened world, and who is claimed as the "au- 1 thor and finisher" of a great system of faith and practice; has left behind him no sentence of his writing, and those unknown charac- 1 ters written with his fioger in the sand constitute the sum total of all his writings of 1 which there is any account ? Is there, or has there ever been, since the invention of letters, or ever, rude hieroglyph- 1 ics, any such thing as a system of religion, ; whose founder did not take special pains to reduce his teachings to writing, and thus' give thein the most exact and permanent form ? The Brahminshave their Vedas, their Pou! ranas, their Ramayan, and their laws and in' stitutcs of Menu, and these are all written ! aud preserved with the utmost care. The I Chinese have their hooks of Fohi, their founder, as opened and expounded by their I great Confucius. The Persians have their I Zendevesta, attributed to their leader, Zoroj aster, containing the doctrine and laws of their religion. The Jews had their sacred I books; irnd Moses and the prophets, and i David, and Solomon, put their teachings in I writing, that they might be preserved. Plato and Pythagoras, and Cicero and Demosthenes, wrote much. Mahomet wrote the Koran, and gave it to the faithful as their guide. The writings of Swedenborg are voluminous; and in our day, even the Mormon impostor wrote his books of Mormon. But here comes one who claims precedence even to Moses and Abraham, and i ' 11 I ,i . . .i n l especially claims tnac a greater man ooiomon is in his own person, and announcing himself as a herald of a new dispensation from God; which is to cast Moses and the prophets in the shade, and prevail over all other systems, and subdue our entire race, and yet this great teacher wrote never a word, save only the characters in the sand, which the next breath of wind might obliterate. Who can account for this procedure ? Will it comport at all with the idea that he- was an impostor ? Did ever an impostor pursue a course like this? Never. And it seems to us that in the single fact to whioh we have* alluded, there is the impress of truth, and proof that his mission is all divine. He stands out before us as one who knows that his mission is from God, and that it can stand upon its own merit^ So confident is he of its power, that he is content to breathe it out upon God's air, and leave it to live by its own inherent and self-perpetuating im- i mortality, or live not at all. And sohegoes ' about doing good, now teaching in the syn agogue and temple, now talking to his dis- t ciplcs as he sits on Olivet or by the sea of z Galilee, and now dropping a word as he walks t by the way. And there is not manifested I the slightest apprehension that what he says i will be lost. lie writes it not on stone or o parchment. Nay, he writes it not at all.? n He seeks only to give it a lodgment in the ? hearts of the few disciples that followed him 6 ?to make them comprehend it, and feel its fi power, and love it; and is willing to leave it there to produce its fruits, and to he written D by the hand of.affection, if it should be writ- 0 ten at all. And on those hearts he did im- f press himself; and they, for the love they {\ bore him, wrote the meagre sketch we have r sf his life and teachings. t, Rev. J. J). Wittiamwn. p ^ s FRANCIS, LORD NAPIER. ]j The distinguished gentleman, now the ac- n credited Minister Plenipotentiary of Great u Britain to our Government at Washington, 8, is yet comparatively a young man. He was t] born in 1819, and will be only thirty-eight s; (rears of age in September Dext, but he has had much experience in diplomatic life, bav- . ing been from early years in that department. . A few words as to the history of his family ^ may not be uninteresting. The name of cj the original family was Lenox, and was s jhanged in this wise, as related in an old 81 history: "One of the ancient Earls of Lenox in 11 Scotland, had three sons. The eldest sue- ^ needed him in the Earldom of Lenox; the ^ second, was named Donald, and the third, Glilchrist. ? "The then King 6f Scotts, was engaged 11 in wars, and among those who were com- ? manded to serve him was the Earl of Lenox, ^ who, keeping his eldest son at home, sent his ^ second son (Donald) to serve for him. 'This battle went hard for the Scotts, who ? were f#ccd to lose ground?and at last to run away; which being perceived by Donald, he pulled his father's standard _ from the bearer thereof, and valiantly encountered the foe. Being well followed, he repulsed j the enemy and changed the fortune of the iay, where by a great victory was got. Af- * ' ?. 1 U a 11. rt ITtnM nni J .. i. .n tlinm ^ LCi IIJU uotur tlic 1\1U^ 9U1U ULIIU LXICUl 1 You have all done valiantly, hut there if ^ we among you who hath na pier"?and jailing Donald to his presence, in regard to ? his worthy service, gave him in augmentation >f honor, to change his name from Lenox to ? Napier, and gave him the lands of Gosford," fee. a . The next-distinguished man of -this line ' was Sir John Napier. He was the inventor a of logarithms, and was also the author of "A 8 Treatise on the Revelation of Saint John." ? Hume, the historian, speaks of him as one to whom ?the title of great man is more ^ justly due than to any other whom his country ever produced." These works will ro- 8 main lasting monuments of his sublime judgment, knowledge and penetration." The eldest son of this man was Archibald, ? afterward created first Lord Napier) and the present Francis, Lord Napier, (now with us,) in his direct descendant in an unbroken line. j . The other branches of the family number ^ many distinguished personages, whose names ^ and deeds, as soldiers, sailors, and writers, are found in history They all come from C this original stock?"Donald" (Lenox) C ehanged on the battle field (for distinguished valor) to Na-Pier, down through logarithms, and hard study, and hard fighting, to the present day, and hisjory as yet records s< no act that brings a stain upon the name u and blood of Napier. The present Minister h is universally regarded as a gentleman of b close observation and industry, whose urbani- h ty and kind feeling are only equalled by his tl modesty and courteous deference. We have p every reason to hope that he will realize in fl his reception and sojourn with us, all the u success and gratification he and his Govern- c ment anticipate, and that the same spirit in C which he was selected to represent his coun- u try here, will be found in the Government ti ind people to whom he is accredited.?Jour. * Com. ' ii ? *- i< THE DEED SCOT CASE. s< The late decision, or, rather, the series of s< lecisions of the Supreme Court of the Uni- d ted States in the Dred Scott case, is of more tl ritnl importance in reference to the settle- u nent of the slavery question than any or all ai he other acts and proceedings upon this o: iubject?legislative and judicial, State or a Ederal?since the organization of the gen- a ?ral government. d This supreme and final tribunal in the in- U ;erpret.ation of the constitution and the laws, las decreed that negroes or men of the Af- di ican nice, whether bond or free are not citi- st sens of the United States by the federal pi institution; that the ordinance of 1787 was bl superceded by the constitution; that the ? Missouri compromise of 1820 was an un- a institutional act; that slaveholders have the b< ight to carry their slaves into the Territories; pi hat the legal condition of a slave in a slave tl State is not affected by his temporary sojourn m n a free State; and that Congress has no at lower over the question of slavery in a Ter- tr itory, and cannot delegate any power over bi ;he subject to the Territorial Legislature. ol The importance and comprehensive bear- in ngs of these decisions cannot be over-esti- tl nated?they cover all the disturbing party o; tud sectional issues upon the slavery contro- it rersy, and strike at the root of the mischief h n every case. Is First, the supreme judicial tribunal of the b Union decides that, according to the consti- u ;ution, negroes are not citizens, whether free tl nen or slaves. In other words, ours is the ti white man's constitution, and the negro, as g i citizen, is absolutely ignored. The cense- tl juence is, that all the existing constitutions n ind laws of the free States elevating negroes a! to the rights and privileges of citizenship, a: ire null and void; for, in this authoritatively declared meaning of the constitution, to w be a citizen of a State is to be a citizen of p the L nited States, inasmuch as the constitu- tl tion expressly ordains (Art 4, Sec. 2,) that o '< the citizen of each State shall be entitled p o all the privileges and itnmmunitiea of citi* ens in the several States." This decision, herefore, settles the old difficulty between dassaohnsetts and Sonth Carolina concern* Dg the free colored citizens cooks and seamen f the former, treated only as dangerous free ^ legroes upon entering the ports of the latter .-.-I State. The decision is against Massachn* etts and her free colored citizens, and in ?vor of South Carolina. The decision concerning the federal orfi*' ancgof 1787 and the Missouri compromise f 1820 establish the full validity of tho [ansas-Nebraska bill, as tho true coustitu* ional policy in regard to slavery in the Teritories. The deciaion concerning slaves in ransiln through a free State, or the tempo* ary sojourn of a Southern slave in a free Itate, settles the Lemmon case, and all cases ke that of Mr. Wheeler, of North Carolia, whose slaves at Philadelphia, were so nceremonionsly spirited away; and iu all ixch cases- the supreme decree is decisive of be slaveholder's constitutional rights to bis lave property. 1 . x>ut toe most important ot these supreme ecisions, in a political party view, is tho ndgment that Congress has no power, and an delegate nc power over th? question of lavery in the 1 ritories. Thisdecisionata ingle blow shivers the anti-slavery platform f the late great Northern republican party ito atoms. The policy of legislating slavery ut of Kansas and the other Territories of bo Union by Congress will no longer avail bera. Congress hate no power in the premies. That is settled. What was in doubt is a doubt no longer. The supreme law is exounded by the supreme authority, and disoedience is rebellion, treason and revolution, 'he republican party henceforth must choose etween submission and revolution?loyalty r treason to the government. The gall and itterness of the New York Tribune are berayed in its mad assertion that these vital nd final decisions of our Supreme Judges re ? entitled to just so much moraleyej%ht / s would be the judgment of a majority of bose congregated in any Washington bar3om." But this madness of our Seward rgans will avail nothing. The only alterative to the anti-slavery fractions of the forth, from the Garrison to the Seward and riginal Van Buran fractions, is loyalty or reason, submission or rebellion. Unquestior ably this bombshell from the lupreme Courf? together with the inaugural ^ nd the Cabinet of the new administration, rill at once re-open the .slavery agitation in. 11 its length and breadth; but henceforth lavery in the Territories is an issue which . , aust be decided by the laws of olimate, pro!ucts, races, and the natural laws of our poplation and our emigration; for Congress enceforth can have nothing to do with the ubject. Meantime, the new administraion, relieved of the precedents of the Mis ouri compromise, the Wilmot proviso, and 11 other unconstitutional laws and proceed* * Dgs of the government during the last for* jr years on the slavey question, had its ourse plainly and antboratively marked oat. N n this respect Mr. Buchanan is particularly ortunate, and his administration will, we are say, be singularly satisfactory and sue* essful, for the people are ever loyal to the onstitution and the laws. JOHH BUNYAN. Bunyan had been bred a tinker, and had erved as a private soldier in the Parliamen* ary army. Early in his private life, he ad been fearfully tortured by remorse for is youthfnl sins, the worst of which seems, owever, to have been such as the world hinks venial. His keen sensibility and his owerful imagination, made his internal con* '*' icts singular, terrible. He fancied he was , nder sentence of reprobation?that he had ommitted blasphemy against the Holy rhost?that he had sold Christ?that he ras actually possessed by a demon. Some* imes loud voices from heaven cried out to rarn him. Sometimes friends whispered npious 'suggestion in his ear. He saw vis*, jns of distant mountain tope, on which the an shone brightly, But from which be was jparated by a waste of snow. Be felt the evil behind him pulling his clothes. He nought that the brand of Cain had been.set pon him. He feared he was about to break sunder like Judas. His mental agony-disrdered his health. One day be shook like man in the paley. On another day he felt fire within his breast. It is difficult to un erstand how he survived suffering so inmse and so long continued. At length the crowds broke. From the epths of despair the penitent passed to a ate of serene felicity. An irresistable imnlse now urged him to impart to others the lessings of which he was himself possessed, [e joined the Baptists, and became himself preacher and writer. His education had sen that of a mechanic. He knew no lanuage but the English, as it was spoken by le common people. He had studied no great odel of composition, with the exeepthm-? i important exception undoubtedly--of our anslation of the Biblfe. His spelling was id. He frequently transgressed the rules ' grammar. Yet the native force of genis, and his experimental knowledge of all ie religious passions from despair to exstay, amply supplied iu him the want of learn, ig. His rude oratory roused and melted earers who listened without interest to the ibored discourses of great logicians and He raists. Mis works are widely circulated aloag the humbler classes. One of them, le Pilgrim's Progress, was in his own lifeme translated into several foreign langna08. It was, however, scarcely known to ie learned and polite, and had been, daring ear a century, the delight of pious cottagers ad artizans, before it was commended by y man of high literary eminence. At length oritios condescended to inquire rhere the secret of so wide and durable a opularity lay. They were oompelled to own bat the ignorant multitude had judged more orrectly than the learned, and that the. desised little book was really a masterpiece.