Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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jno.l. miller & co., Proprietors.! All Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. J lewis m. grist, pnbii.her, VOL. 3. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, DECEMBER lO, 1857. NO. 49. (Original Jjocfni. | i For the Yorkville Enquirer. THE GREAT INVENTOR. BY MRS. M. W. STRATTON. I met a stranger in the street, he had a high white ; brow. He passed along, and none did greet, save with a i stately bow. He had a wild, and brilliant eye?a nobly bearded j chin, I looked upon the forehead high, and read the mind j within. I deemed him one of noble birth, an alien from his j home, And careless o'er what spot of earth his foot-steps ! now might roam, I noted well his lofty walk?his high bred Southern air And said, "no matter how folks talk, there's real greatness there." He strode along?nor right, nor left he turned those splendid eyes, lie looked like one of hope bereft, ana mourning severed tics, I thought of Lara?the Corsair?of Byron's heroes all, Reckless like them, he'd feel no fear whatever might befall. I turned aside, and saw him pass, straight to a store he went, I heard a shriek?a crash of glass?with threats and curses blent, The shouts of men?the cry of boys?the yell of furious hounds, Till maddened by the dreadful noise, forth now the hero bounds. On, on he flies?Mazeppa's steed is not a circumstance Now to commit some direful deed, ho wants but half a chance, A goal is won, but not a rest, it is a china shop Again is heard the crash of glass, and horsewhip's fearful pop. He's forth again, but meets the foe, and deigns to fly, no more, They could not lay that proud head low, their fiercest rage was o'er. He stood at bay, and proudly gazed on that assembled crowd, I read within the eye that blazed these thoughts not breathed aloud. I am a Goat! nor feel I shame to hear your taunting cry, Tho' man may sometimes change his name, his birth place too deny, The Scotchman drop the clanish Mc?the Irish man tbe 0? The Englishman put II's back, where H's ought to goNot thus with me?I never yet did name or race deny, Let on your hounds! I've courage yet to suffer or to die, A moment more he darkly frowned, then read I words like these. "Know ingrates, know I'm the renowned Inventor of Goatees!" Coi.tmbia, Nov. 27th, 18-37. |i grilling Cak. A SCENE IN A JURY-ROOM, I once had the extreme felicity of leaving my business to serve upon " the Jury."? I plead in all manner of ways for release, but to no effect. I could not swear that I was deaf, nor blind, nor yet non compos; but did tell them that I had already formed an opinion. They asked me if my opinion would prevent me from receiving the testimony in good faith, and rendering a verdict according to it. I replied that of course I should weigh the evidence carefully, and be governed by it. I was then informed that I " would do." The case to be tried was one of arson? then a capital offence?and the prisoner at the bar was a young man, named Charles Am bold, whom 1 had known from boyhood, and who was naturally one of the finest youths of the town where he resided. He had a widowed mother who depended upon | him for support, and his circle of friends was large and choice. I was morally certain that he did not commit the crime, and hence, I am sure, those who were friendly to him got me on the panel, and had me retained. The trial commenced and we twelve men took our seats in the jury box T had a very respectable set with me?only there was one man whom I didn't like to see there. This man was Moulton Warren. lie was a dark-faced, sinister looking fellow?at least ! to me. I knew that young Ambold had one ! fault. He had recently boon addicted to j diiuk, and had been known to visit disreput- j able houses. It was one of those houses that had been burned, for setting fire to ! which he had been apprehended. Now, I had often tried to dissuade 1 Charles Ambold from the course he was, pursuing. He had repeatedly promised me } that he would reform, and as repeatedly had he broken away. I had often talked to him ! of his poor mother, until he had wept like a child; but the effect was not lasting.? ! There was a power of temptation more ef- j fective than any influence 1 could wield.? He would fall away into this evil companion- ! ship, and for a while his manhood was gone, j One or two abandoned women had gained ! great power over him, and upon them he j wasted much of his substaucc. ? i T 1?- ? ""T mnn rrrhrx rrnc ! AQQ X KUUW nun lIlia juuij iyhvj .IU.J I now upon the jury?this Moulton Warren? j was the one who had done more than alii others to lead the poor youth away. It was J Warren who had drank with him, and who i had led him away to those more abominable j haunts of sin and pollution. Why was he | upon the jury? I could only account for it i upon the ground that Charley still supposed | him to be his friend. The poor scorched ! insect was still ignorant of the flame that I scorched him. He really believed that j Moulton Warren was his friend. The trial commenced. The indictment! set forth that Charles Ambold had, "with j malice afore-thought," and with all sorts of! wicked and felonious intents, set fire to a certain dwelling house, thereby endangering j human life. This dewelling, as I have al- j ready intimated, was a low sink of iniquity, ! where the abandoned of both sexes were ! wont to congregate; and where the youthful ' prisoner had speut much of his time. The evidence for the prosecution came on, and I was startled One after another gave in their testimony, some of them very re luctantly, and I was frightened when I saw how plainly it all pointed to the prisoner as the guilty party. Several credible witnesses swore that they had heard hiiu threaten to burn the house dowD; and others had heard him say repeatedly that he wished it was burned down ! Then came several witnesses ?three of the prominent citizens?who saw him lurking about the premises on the night of the fire. With regard to the provocation on the prisoner's part for such a deed it was proved, upon his own admission, that he had been ill-treated there and that he had sworn to! have revenge. And furthermore, it was proved that he had been heard to say that nis saivauou ui sum <mu uuuj utpuuvu upon the destruction of that house. Nest came more testimony stronger still. The fire had been set in a back basement room where shavings and other stuff for kindling were kept. Entrance had been gained throug a back window, which had been partly pried open with a stout knife which had been broken off in trying to raise it (the sash.) The blade was recognized as belonging to the prisoner's knife! A maker of, cutlery had made a knife to order for Ambold only a month previous, and he knew the blade at once, and swore to it. But this was not all. The fire had been evidently set first to the shavings which lay upon the stone floor, but piled up against a | wooden partition. This floor was damp, and some of the outer shavings, even, were rrVn-.1Kr Vmrnort nn "Rut. inst, nt the cdfre. UU?/ -r- J -- - C-/ where the fire commenced, lay a piece of paper, rolled up, and about half burned, and from the manner in which it lay, it was very evident that the fire had been set with it.? This piece of rolled paper had been ignited by a match, a numberof which were scattered around, and as soon as it was on fire it had been laid upon the floor, with the burniug end just in the shavings. Of course, these shavings were in a blaze instantly; but the paper torch being upon the damp stones, had not burned wholly up. And this paper was found to be a part of a letter belonging to the prisoner ! A letter which he had receiced from a friend of his (and a friend of mine) ouly a week before! That friend had to come forward and swear that the piece of charred paper was part of a letter he had written to the prisoner! This friend's name was Stephen Grant. He was a young merchant, and the letter had been written for the purpose of inducing Ambold to reform. Stephen tried hard to avoid testifying, for he knew, as did others, that the fire must have been set with that identical paper; but he was summoned, and he could not deny his own c'uirography. The case looked dark. Many witnesses were willing to testifiy to the prisoner's good qualities; but no one could swear that he was not dissipated and degraded. That house had been to him indeed, a region infernal. Its degradation cried out for his bodily life ; and its existence had long been eating away his soul. Poor Charley! I had before been sure of his innocence; but now I could only shake my head and pity him ! Finally he was allowed to speak for himself. He said he was innocent of the crime imputed to him. He said that he had threatened to burn that house down?that he had said about all that had been sworn to. And furthermore, he was around the | house on the night of the fire. He was not ten rods off when the flauies burst forth and he was one of the first to give the alarm.? lie had uttered one cry of fire when he noticed where the flames must have originated, and the thought came to him if he were found there, he might be suspected of having set the fire; so he ran away, lie also said that three nights before the eonflagration, he had been robbed in that house. His pockets had been emptied of every-1 ihiog iu them, and his poeket-book containing forty dollars in money, and some valuable papers had been taken. He had gone there on the night of the fire to try and persuade them to give him back his money and papers?or at least to get back what he could. When lie got there he saw a man go iu whom he did not wish to see, so he ! had hung around. Waiting for him to depart. lie was around by the back of the building ouce?and that was an hour before the fire broke out. He knew nothing? nothing lie clasped his hands, and with his tearless eyes raised toward heaven, he called to God to witness that he was innocent ! I have told you that I knew him well. T knew him so well, that from that moment I knew him to be innoceut! I knew his very j soul?I knew how free and open it was?ah, | how sinfully so ! I knew there was uo false hood in the story he had told us. 'My boy is innocent 1 My boy is innocent !' I heard the cry?and I saw an old woman sink back into the arms of a male compan ion. It was his poor mother ? Her heart i was well nigh broken ! Yet I saw that all | this had but little effect upon the mass of i spectators The prisoner's course of dissi- j pation?his many threats agaioit the house ?aud the very fact of his having been rob-1 bed and abused there were heavy against him. The counsel for the prisoner made his speech, which was labored and hard. lie was foolish enough to ir.timate that if his client was around at the back part of the house more than once, he must have been intoxicated. In short, his plea had better becu left out. The evidence he could not shake, and he did all he could to suppose evidence, some of it most absurd and ridiculous. I afterwards learned that Moulton Warren engaged that lawyer for the youthful prisoner! The government attorney made his plea. It was plain, straightforward and very conclusive. The judge finally gave his charge. He was fair aud candid. He reviewed the evidence carefully and pointed out such as j bore heavily upon the case. He told us if ! there was a lingering doubt in our minds ! we must give the prisoner the benefit of it. j Hut I could plainly see that there was no i doubt in his mind. I We, the jury, were conducted to our room : by an officer, and there locked up. A ! silence of some minutes ensued. Moulton | Warren was the first to speak: 'Well,' he said, 'I s'pose there's ro need ! of our bein here a great while. Of course we all know that the prisoner must have set fire to the house !' There was. something in the manner of that man as he said this that excited my curiosity?I won't say it was suspicion then ?only curiosity. He spoke with a forced effort at calmness which I at once perceived. The more I looked at him the more I became strangely nervous and uneasy, wondered why he should be so anxious to be rid of the case, and have Arabold convicted. I 1-ncOT tVint. tip find freouented thatevil house. and that he had done so much towards helping Charley to dissipation. I knew he was in that house on the night on which the prisoner was robbed?for Charley had told mc so when I visited him in his cell. I had then asked the unfortunate youth if he was sure Warren was his friend. 0,?he was sure of it. He should have hunted him up on the night of his robbery, only they told him Warren had gone. By the by, the foreman proposed that we should each take up a peace of paper and write down our opinion, and then compare notes. I went to my hat, which I had placed upon a table with a number of others, and took out a sheet of paper. I had got half way back to the table when I found I had made a mistake. I had got part of a letter from another man's hat. I was about to turn back when the name of the writer of the letter arrested my attention. I looked more closely, and read?'Stephen Grant.' Next I caught this sentence: And now dear Charles, if not for your own, yet for your mother's sake, letiue hope you will do better.' I started as though a shot had struck me. I held in my hand the other half of the sheet which had been used to fire the burned house! I went to the table and found that I had taken it from Moulton Warren's hat! I looked to see if I had been observed?and I had not. I put the paper back, and then took a piece from my own hat, which was of the same pattern as the other, aud by its side. I returned to the table and sat down.? Warren was by my side lie had written his opiuion and took a knife from his pocket to cut it from the large sheet. 'Let me take your knife a moment, if you please,' I said to him. Without hesitation he did so. 1 took it ?it teas Charles Ambold's knife !?the hiryc blade was rjonc! With all the power I possessd, I restrained my deep emotious, and having cut my paper, I handed back the knife. Why should he have that knife so boldly about him ? I afterwards learned. He had not worn those pantaloons before since the night of the fire; and now he used the knife, probably, without the least remembrance of the loss it had sustained during a very peculiar piece of work, to the execution of which it was made subservient. We talked for some ten minute3, and I found that eleveu of the jury were bent on rendering a verdict of guilty ; though most of them were in favor of recommending the prisoner to mercy. Moulton Warren was decided. He had no mercy at all. Presently I started up and pretended to be faint. I said I must go out a few moments. I kicked at the door and the deputy sheriff came. lie heard my plea and let | me out. As soon as we had gained a safe ! distance, I told him all. lie was astonish| ed. lie went away, and when he came I Vi/% kron r?V? f fVirt oHr\rnn-? nnrl fVin uaiJt iiu uiwu^iu tnv; uioiuvt ativiuv f uuu tuv | district judg and the sheriff. I told again ! what I had seen?I assured them that I knew what I had seen?that it was no mere suspicion. And I explained, too, Warren's manner in the jury room, his former connection with the prisoner, and his known character. The officers went away, and at the end of ten minutes they returned with a constable added co their number, and this constable had a freshly written instrument in his hand. The sheriff bade me point out the hat to them as soon as we entered the room, i The door of the room was opened, and I pointed them to the hat. The sheriff took ; it, and asked whose it was. Warren leaped i to his feet and seized it, but he was held back. Word was instantly sent to the judge that the jury could not agree. They were discharged, and then Moulton Warren was searched. The knife was found upon him, and his behavior at once exposed his guilt. The presence of that letter was a accounted for by him in a dozen different ways within an hour. A new jury was cmpannelcd, and Charles Arnbold was acquitted. Shortly afterwards, Warren was tried, and it was plainly proved that he had set fire to the house, and the woman kept it was to have been burned up in it, as he had contrived to lock her into her room shortly after setting the fire.? She had incurred his displeasure in various ways, and this was his revenge. Not only she, but two of her girls had suspected him from the first, but they dared not complain, e i.- 1 j ?t lur icar nu wuuiu uui ue uuunuicuj auu. would then be sure to murder them. The hardened vi'lain confessed his guilt after he had been condemned, and then it was that he told how he happened to be so careless in regard to the paper and knife.? It was he who had robbed Ambold, and when he took the old letter from his hat to use for a torch in setting the fire, he did uot notice what it was, and even when that partly burned half had been exhibited in court, be bad entirely forgotten tbat be bad : torn off the other half and put it back in j his hat, as lie must have done. The letter I i had been found in Ambold's pocket book, ; and he had kept it because in it the youth ! was warned against his influence. He confessed that he held a slight idea of calling the writer to an account when it should be convenient. With regard to the knife, it was as I before stated. He took that also from Ambold's pocket, and put in his own; and on the night of the fire he used it to pry up the sash, and when he had broken it he put it in his pocket and forgot it. Thus was Chaley saved?and saved from more than an ignominious death, too. He was saved to be a noble, virtuous man j and his mother once more took ample delight and joy in the love and tender care of her only child. When Charles Ambold knew that Moulton Warren'lad expiated his crime on the gallows, he sit down and pondered upon his past life. The thought of hisold companion being hanged sent a strange thrill through his frame. But he was able to trace out, clearly and logically, this terrible result from the course of life this ill-fated man had pursued. He shuddered as he remembered how far he had gone in the same course himself; and he was able to see the only safe path for any youth. Not only must he shuD temptation?not only keep clear of even the appearance of vice?but, above all he must shun evil companionship A youth may make all the good resolutions thought can afford, but if he continue one evil companionship he is not safe ! JEeabing THE GREASED CARTRIDGES. Among the British army regulations for load firelocks, is one that will be memorable in English history, in the words following: 'The firelock being at the word 'prepare to load,' placed on the ground six inches in front of the body, and held at the full extent of the left arm, the recruit receives the order 'load,' upon which bring to the mouth, holding it 'between the fore-finger and thumb, with the ball in the hand, and bite off the top, elbow close to the body.'' Among the arms used in India by the Sepoy troops, is the Enfield rifle. The ball end of the cartridge made for this weapon, has to be greased, so as to lubricate the bore of the gun. The reader will now be prepared to appreciate an event which happened at a school of llifie practice at Dum Dum, in January, 1857. A low casta native, an arsenal laborer, asked a Sepoy of the 2d Grenadiers to give him a drink out of his water vessel.? With the religious propriety of a Hindoo, the soldier refused, saying, ?I have scoured my lotah clean, you will defile it with your touch.' The other retorted: 'You think much of your caste; but wait awhile! The Sahib-Iogue will make you bite cartridges soaked in cow and hog fat, and then where will your caste be ?' This speech was reported by the grenadier to his comrades. It travelled speedily to the nearest military station, and from there gathering a growth of distortion and exaggeration, it went through the ranks of the whole India army. 'Twas in its final shape, the fat of the jackass which was to be smeared upon the Enfield cartridges, and forced between the lips of the Hindoo soldiers?and the British government purposed to initiate with this profound abomination, a forcible conversion of all the people in India to Protestantism. The social standing, the personal reopect, the family ties, and the spiritual well-being of the Sepoys?all that was valuable to them in this world and the next?were placed in immediate and extreme peril. They stepped out of their ranks on parade, and respectfully but firmly slated their objections to the regulation method of preparing grease for the Enfield cartridge. They asked a concession to their religious feeling, that a composition of wax and oil should be used in the place of the unclean mixture. An inquiry into the constitution of the 'laboratory grease' used at Woolwich, in the making up of the cartridges for India, show d that it was composed of five parts of tallow, five parts of stearine, and one part of wax. The government made an order thai he cartridges should be issued free from grease, and that the Sepoys should be allowed to apply any suitable lubricating material that they preferred. This order was read publicly on parade. But it was too late. Suspicion had gained complete possession of the minds of the soldiers. The whisper that the paper of which the new cartridges was made, had been soaked in bullock's tallow, gained general credence. The soldiers refused to do the biting required by the order above quoted. The officers went into the ranks with the cartridges?tore them open?showed them the paper?made them feel it and examine it? let them take it to their quarters to be tested. But it was of no use. Some of the Sepoys affirmed that when burned, the paper 'phizzed' and 'smelt greasy'?others said it looked 'glazed, like wax cloth'?others that it was 'stiff and different from the old paper/ and therefore had 'cows' and pigs' grease' in it.? The Chemical Examiner to the Government was ordered to test the paper with chemical analysis and the microscope, and to report upon it. He did so, and his report that there was not a particle of grease or oil in the paper, was made public, but availed not to persuade the Sepoys to take it between their teeth. All this time the belief that the British I government entertained the design of compelling the Indias by force to become chrisI tians, spread and grew confirmed. A feeling of fierce hostility was kindled among the Sepoys. Their priests inflamed it. To avoid the difficulty about the old greased cartridges and the new paper of the ungreased, it was recommended by a sensible officer to the government; that the regulation requiring the cartridges to be bitten should be modified by allowing the men to tear thern with their fingers. This suggestion was approved of, and the new method of loading was ordered to be adopted at three different depots. It was then discovered that for years, this 'biting' order had been more or less evaded throughout the service in India?the form of tearing the cartridge with the teeth having been adroitly gone through with, but the breaking it being immediately after effected with the left hand. But the fears and the prejudices of the Sepoys had reached a height beyond control. On the 26th of February the 19th Reg?r-eot being ordered to parade for exercise with blank ammunition, refused to receive it, on the ground that they had doubts about the paper, which was reported to be greased with 'cow and pig fat.' This established the mutiny. The regiment was disbanded. Soon after the war broke forth.?Albany Journal TvrnfyRWES. In his old age Diogenes was taken captive by pirates, who carried hira to Crete, :.nd exposed him for sale as a slave. On being asked what he could do, he replied: 'Govern men; sell me, therefore, to one who wants a master.' Xeniades, a wealthy Corinthian, struck with this reply, purchased him, and, on returning to Corinth, gave him his liberty and consigned his children to his education. The children were taught to be Cynics, much to their own satisfaction. It was during this period that his world renowned interview with Alexander took place.? The prince, surprised at not seeing Diogenes joining the crowd of his flatterers, went to see him. He found the Cynic sitting in his tub, basking in the sun. 'I am Alexander the Great,' said he. 'I am Diogenes the Cynic,' was the reply. Alexander then asked him if there was anythiog he could do for him. 'Yes, stand aside from between me and the sun.' Surprised at such indifference to princely favor?an indifference so strikingly contrasted with everything he could hitherto have witnessed?he exclaimed: 'Were I not Alexander, I would be Diogenes !' One day, being brought before the King, and being asked who he was, Diogenes replied : 'A spy on your cupidity,'?language the boldness of which must have gained him universal admiration, because implying great singularity as well as force oi -t .t uuaiuutci. Singularity and insolence may be regarded as his grand characterestics. Both of these are exemplified in the anecdote of his lighting a lamp in the daytime, and peering about the streets as if earnestly seeking something; being asked what he sought, he replied, 'A Man.' The point of this story is lost in the usual version, which makes him seek'amhonest roan.' Diogenes did not seek honesty; he wanted to find a Man, in whom honesty would bo included with many other qualities. It was his constant reproach to his cotemporaries, that they had no manhood. He said he had never seen men; at Sparta he had seen children; at Athens, w )inen. One day he called out, 'Approach, a' 1 men !' When some approached, he beat tl.em back with his club saying, 'I called for men ; ye are excrements.' Thus he lived till his ninetieth year, bitter, brutal, ostentatious, and abstemious; disgracing the title of 'The Dog,' (for a dog has affection, gratitude, sympathy, and caressing manners,) yet growling over his uneuvied virtue as a cur growls over his meatless bone, foreversnappingandsnarling without occasion ; an object of universal attention, and, from many quarters, of unfeigned admiration. One day his friends went to see him. On arriving at the portico under which he was wont to sleep, they found him still lying on the ground wrapped in his cloak. lie seemed to sleep. They pushed aside the folds of his cloak; he was dead. AN ILLINOIS FARM. What will those persons who have been accustomed to consider five hundred acres a large farm, think of the following? The editor of the Sj)irit of the Agricultural Press has recently been on a visit to the farm of M. L. Sullivant, Esq., in the southeastern part of Champaign county, Illinois. The farm contains over ticcnty thousand acres, and although only about seven thousand acres are yet under cultivation, employs over ono hundred men ! Three thousand acres are planted in corn, and the editor estimates that the farm will produce at least 15,000 bushels of wheat this year, besides large quantities of barley, oats, flax, &c.? Mr. Sullivant employs five different reapers this year, and threshes immediately after cutting, a steam engine is his power in the latter operation. A blacksmith shop is located on the farm, and employed continually in repairing farm impliments, a school is kept up for the education of the children of the workmen. One hundred and twenty-five yoke of oxen, and fifty horses are employed. It must be acknowledged that this is something of a farm and that Mr. Sullivant possesses much executive ability to manage such a stupendous concern, yet we are informed that everything moves on as regular as the click of a chronometer.? This is but one of the many large farms that now grace the broad prairies of that and adjoining counties, none of which are as I 1 L j. iL. large as tnis, uul large euuugu iu exuite tuc wonder and admiration of outsiders, who know nothing of the magnificent West.? Chicago Democrat. Mr. Sullivant also farms it on a large scale near Columbus in this State. He has lands enough in Franklinton, Fanklin county, one would suppose, to satisfy most men, a considerable proportion, too, of the very fertile Scioto bottoms. Within the past three or four years he has been selling portions of his large tracts in Ohio, and investing in government prairie lands in the West, mainly in Illinois. He has monopolized in the vicinity of one hundred thousand acres of the great prairies in Central and Southern Illinois, every acre of which he | considers intrinsically worth 820 foragricul| tural purposes even for corn alone. lie J entered some forty thousand acres in one j body, on which there was scarcely a stick I of timber and not a drop of running water. The big farm spoke of is on this tract. His ! tenants have to haul fire-wood about twelve miles. Water is obtained by digging at a reasonable depth, nod supplies are furnished by means of wind-mill pumps. Mr. S. broke up a strip of prairies some two hundred miles in length to put out Osage Orange hedge for fencing, but gave up the experiment. He now uses posts and boards, and has planted hickories at proper distances for future posts. He expects that the thrifty young trees will become large enough to be used for posts as they strxd by the time the first fence rots down, say in a dozen years. Last year Mr. Sullivant's Illinois farming operations were not very profitable. His immense com fields were mainly planted on newly turned prairie sod, and the season was so unfavorable that the harvest was very light. His lands he regards about as fertile and productive as the Scioto bottoms, and his crops this summer and autumn will largely swell the overflowing granaries of Egypt. Mr. S. is quite moderate in his expectations. He does not hope to be a rich man himself, but thinks he may leave something for his children.?Cfrvrtaud ITcrahh A HUNDRED TEARS AGO. Although the hundredth year is an era in ; the life of man which few are favored to see, a century is but a short period in the lifetime of nations. Yet what wonderful and political changes have been crowded within the last hundred years! Just one hundred years ago, Clivc laid in India the colossal foundations of English power and began that career of conquest which has made England to India, what i Spain was to Mexico and Peru. Just one hundred years ago, the Seven Years War which began in the wilderness of America, was beginning to rage in Europe. It ended in the year 1763, after one of the 1 most desperate struggles recorded in history, with the recognition of the rights of Prussia as a first class European power, and the transfer of the empire of North America from France to England?a change preluding a yet greater change soon to come. ; A hundred years ago Spain was still a great power, though then in her decline.? 1 The empire of the greater part of the New ' World was hers. Its galleons still filled the : royal treasury at Madrid with gold from its 1 mines. A hundred years ago, a Bourbon still sat 1 on the throne of France. The reign of feudalism and the degradation of the masses, seemed established forever. A profligate court, emulating the wickedness of a profligate king, (Louis XV,) knew not that it was merry-making on ground which would soon open and swallow it up. It saw not the hand-writing on the walls of its chambers of revelry. A hundred years ago, America was a wilderness, peopled beyond the central line of longitude of the States of New York and Pennsylvania, only by traders and trappers. Pittsburg was a French trading point. Lake Erie was a French inland sea. The Indian and the buffalo roamed along the Mississippi, whose lakes and rivers sometimes reflected for a moment the wandering faces of the Jesuit missionary and the French trader.? Much less than a hundred years ago?in 1768 we believe?Lord Hillsborough, the English colonial secretary, issued an order prohibiting the extension of English settlements beyond the Alleghanies! What revolutions has the last century witnocaorl I TV Viao won flip most. mn??nifirpnt conquest made in India the world ever saw, and it now sees the power of the conquerors trembling in the balance. It has seen America peopled, England reformed of many ancient abuses, the Bourbons expelled from France, France revolutionized, and greatest of all, the coming of a New World into being. It has seen great empires overturned. It has seen an obscure Corsican rising to the virtual dictatorship of Europe, humbling in the dust the crowned heads of dynasties of a thousand years, and taking to wife a daughter of the Caesars. It has seen the rise of a great republican empire, founded on the principles of eternal justice, more glorious than Rome in the palmiest days of her vast dominion, whose founding struck the knell of aristocratic rule, and preluded the triumph of democratic principles the world over. Last and best of all the changes it has witnessed, it has seen the masses everywhere awaking to a sense of their rights and becoming a great power whose good will even despots court. Bayonets ruled the world a hundred years ago. Public opinion rules it now. That is the difference between 1757 and 1857.?Rock Island Argus. ORIGIN OP PAPER MONEY. The Count de Tendilla, while besieged by the Moors in the fortress of Alhambra, was destitute of gold and silver wherewith to pay his soldiers, who began to murmur, as thev had not the means of purchasing the necessaries of life from the people of the town. 'In this dilemma/ (says the historian) what does this most sagaoious commander? He takes a number of little morsels of paper, on which he inscribes various sums, large and small and signs them with his own hand and name. These did he give to the soldiery, in earnest of their pay. 'How/ you will say, 'are soldiers to be paid with scraps of paper V Even so, and well paid, too, as I will presently make manifest, for the good count issued a proclamation, ordering the inhabitants to take these morsels of paper for the full amount thereon insoribed, promising to redeem them at a future time with gold and silver. Thus, by subtle and most miraculous alchemy, did this cavalier turn worthless paper into precious gold and silver, and make his late impoverished army abound in money.' The historian adds, 'The Count de Tendilla redeemed his promises like a loyal knight; and this miracle, as it appeared in the eyes of the worthy Agadida, is the first instance on record of paper money, which has since spread throughout the civilized world the most unbounded opulence. This happened in 1484; and thus we see that paper money, notwithstanding all the maledictions which have been bestowed upon it by the ignorant, the unbelieving and the ] faithless, was the adjunct of the invention I of Drintine. the discoverv of the Western ? o' * world, the Protestant Reformation, and the increased impulse given to civilization, industry and learning. The more intelligent and prosperous a people the more it has aboundcd ; and though it-baa Jttre -bH -oiL?r attributes of civilization and liberty, been occasionally abased and degenerated into excessive license, yet the good it has effected has outweighed a hundred fold all the evils, and from the rashest and wildest accelerated stages of its progress, we have never been driven anywhere near the point from which the forced and premature march began. It needs wise regulations, like personal liberty and political right, and like these last it can be subjected to the despotic control of no governmental action among a free and enlightened people.? Traveller. Paving Small Bills Doe Mechanics. ?It is a very common practice for individuals to engage a mechanic to do a job of work, the cost of which would probably amount to a dollar or two. The work must * be done immediately, because it is generally such a necessity that waiting is not possible. The mechanic puts aside his other business and does the job, but instead of being paid at once, and engagements on both sides complete, as they ought to be, he is told to call at some future time for his money. If he does so, he, of qpurse, has to be subjected to that loss of time, and which was not included in the cost of the job. If he repeats his visit he gives offence, though it is evident that having earned his money, he is entitled to it promptly, and he is the person who has reason to complain that his visits have to be so frequent, compelling him to earn his money twice?once by efforts to collect it.? Persona now fully able to pay all such debts as these, as soon as the work is done, take advantage of the present monetary difficulties to delay payments for weeks and months, and, in some instances, we have heard of them taking a tour to Europe, and leaving such small claims undischarged. This is a great wrong to industrious mechanics, and results in mischief to the community, for the trouble in collecting such debts ha9 grown so great, that mechanics are obtained with difficulty in times of ordinary prosperity for jobbing about a house, unless they know their customers make it a rule to pay promptly on the completion of the job. Philadelphia Ledger. General Havelock.?At a meeting of the Hibernian Bible Society, held in Belfast, the Rev. Mr. Graham, of Bonn, mentioned this fact: He had to tell them that Gen. Havelock, who is now so distinguished in India, although a Baptist, was a member of his (Mr. Graham's) missionary church at Bonn, and bis wife and daughter were members o* it for seven years. He could also nam. in anecdote regarding that great and good man, which he had heard from the lips of Lady Havelock. When Gen. Havelock, as colonel of his regiment, was travelling through India, he always took with him a Bethel tent, in which he preached the Gospel ; and when Sunday came in India, ha usually hoisted the Bethel flag, and invited all men to come and hear the Gospel?in fact, he even baptized some. He was reported for this at head-quarters, for acting in a nonmilitary and disorderly manner; and the Commander-in-Chief, Lord Gough, entertained the charge, but with the true spirit of a generous military man, he caused the state , of Colonel Havelock's regiment to be ex- $ amined. He caused the reports of the moral state of the various regiments to be read for some time back, and he found that Colonel Havelock's stood at the head of the listthere was less drunkenness, less flogging, less imprisonment in it than any other.? When that was done the Commander-inChief said, 'Go and tell Col. Havelock, with my compliments, to baptize the whole army.' The Israelites in England have sent an address to their brethren in the Bombay army, exhorting them to remain true to the interests of the British Crown. Apropos of this, the Ahendeitung of New York publishes the following extract from Hassel's Geography : 'In Malabar alone, there are twenin iliAnenn^ Towa onrl in fViA remoin^cr /vf igr tuuuoauu wonPj ?uvi iu buv *vaaiiuuuvi v? the peninsular their number is proportionally great. They date their presence in Hindostan from the period of the Babylonian Captivity. They assert that a portion of the tribe of Manasses, after three years' wandering, finally settled in India, to the number of twenty thousand families, Growing in favor among the Hindoos, they in a short time increased to eighty thousand families, and were soon powerful .enough to establish the kingdom of Cranganore, upon the coast of Malabar. Here they flourished for some years under a republican form of government, presided over by two chiefs. They still retain their chronicles in the Hebrew language, which are said to commence with the reign of Nebuchadnezzar. This people are known as the 'white Jews.' There are also 'black Jews' in India, supposed to have descended from slaves of the former, who were converted by their masters to the Mo* saic faith.' Prophecies.?At Milan, in the year 1628, a large comet made its appearance, a circumstance which the astrologers who then abounded, seized upon, and, putting their heads together, predicted a pestilence. The fear* ful ravages of the plague soon followed, singularly enough, and the fulfilment of their prediction brought them into high repute. Never play at any kind of afMt*