Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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A VOLUME 14 CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA, TUESDAY MORNING MARCH 8,1853. NUMBER 10. ITULISIIL'D WEEKLY UY _ THOMAS J. WAFvHEN. T E K 71 S . Two Dollars if paid in advance; Two Dollars am > * Fitly Cents it* payment bo delayed throe mouths, ant Throe Dollars if not paid till the expiration of the year ^ ADVERTISK M E X*TS will bo inserted at the fol lowing rates: For one Square, (fourteen lines or less, seventy-five cents for the first, and thirty-seven and i half cents for each subsequent insertion. Single in scrtions. one dollar per square: semi-monthly, month lv aud quarterly advertisements charged the same a for a single insertion. J27"l'i?c number of insertions desired must be notei on the margin of all advertisements, or they will b< published until ordered discontinued and charged ac cordingly. Maxims of Trade. Mr. Budgett, the Successful Merchant, whosi ln'.wrrnliv w? introduced to our readers in our l;c to" 1"v number, was a keen man at a bargain?perhap.too sharp for one whose affections were set 01 heavenly things, llis biographer devotes severa pages to an examination of the maxims by w l.icl he justified himself, from which we extract the following. We commend it to the attention ol ^ our readers, particularly to those devoted to busi II ess. kv* "The buyer must not pretend to be judge oi tlje seller's business. He knows at what price it will answer his purpose to sell; the buyer knows at what price it will answer his purpose to buy. Every mau can take care of his own interests." This seems fair; and when two men meet on equal ground, it is fair. The manufacturer ought to be the best judge how many shillings a bale of cotton is worth to him. The cotton merchant ought to be the best judge how ^ many shillings are worth his bale of cotton tc ti.a hnver mav take it for panted thai tiie seller will not take any sum but one wiiiel: is, just then, of more value to him than the go >ds, The seller may take it for granted that the buy er will not give any sum but one which is, just then, of less value to him than the goods. The argument, then, seems complete: "I may buy as cheap as I can, and sell as dear as I can ; fot every one with whom I deal is the best judge ol of his own interests. It is not always that a piece of reasoning leads one to a conclusion so comfortable. J3ut it is not to be wondered at, that many an honorable man should be perfectly satisfied with reasoning which seems so fair, when the conclusion is so inviting. Admit two thing*; that the parties are equally solveut, that the parties are equally shrewd; and then, as a mere piece of dry mechanism, " your principle may stand tolerably upright. J5ut two men do not meet as two machines; they are two brothers. Each one is bound to looknot only "on his own things, but ai-o on the tilings of another." You cannot divest yoursell of this duty. God has ordained ir, and while God is love, the law is unalterable. In your neighbor vou are bound to see a brother, w hose feelings, whose reputation, whoaoq.i-opvrty, whose family, are all as sacred as y<3t:r own. "Let no man s<H-k his own. but every man another's wealth," is a precept weightier than all the edicts of the exchange. It is highly convenient to evade this precept by assuring yourself that every man will look to his own interests, and that - therefore you may just gripe all that others will let you gripe, Hut, iu doing so, you let yourscli down front the level of a Christian to the level ol a scrambler. Even amongs men who meet on equal terms, commerce, 011 your principle, is not system of mutual services, but a system of mutual supplanting. Hut among men who meet upon unequal terms, that principle w ill bear you out in cruel oppression. A cloth maker offers to a cloth merchant a parcel of cloth. Ilis man iter, or something else, tells the merchant that he is under the necessity of finding money, lie asks a fair price. According to the lx*>t judgment of the merchant, that price would afford the maker a fair remuneration, and would afford himself a fair profit. Hut he knows, or he guesses, that money happens to be, at that moment, of exorbitant value to his neighbor. On this conviction he refuses the fair price, and offers one *' that would double his own profit, but would leave the other without any profit, or \vi h a loss, ^ The other hesitates, reasons, entreats, but at last reluctantly yields. The merchant exults in a 1 1 - - good bargain, a goou uurgnm , = umi. you call it ? Why, the tiling you have done i> neither more nor less than taking advantage of your ncigbor's necessity to deprive him of the just reward of his labor, and to put it in your own pocket. "I?ut I am not bound to look after another man's interests." Yes, you are. God has bound you to it. He lias bound all other men to do the same to you. "But, if my money fi were not of more value than his goods, why did ^ he accept it ? I did not force him." Yes, you did; as far as in you lay. You saw you had him in a jiositioii where he must either submit to the loss you imposed upon him, or li^k a heavier. You took advantage of liirn You believed that the whole profits, fairly divided, would leave him a share and you a share. You saw a chance of getting his share for yourself, and you seized it. It was not fair. It was not brotherly. It was not after the vill of God. All the inerr cantile maxims in the world will not consecrate it. You have deprived the laborer of his hire. You have denied your brother his equal rights. Had you done your dutv tw . hearths would have ^ been the better. By foregoing this opportunity of excessive gain, your own heart would have ! gathered fresh strength to do justly and to love | ' mercy; by se-sing your consideration, your neighbor's heart would have gained fresh esteem for his fellow men, and tresh courage for his struggle. But now, two hearts are worse. Yours is contracting around its ill-begotten profits; his is soured and distrustful. "Hearts," you say, "what have I to do with hearts? Hearts are" neb her pounds, shillings, nor pence." Very true; they . are not; and if all your arguments lie within 4 those three columns, I have no chance of convincing you. But you will soon be in a world where" there are neither pounds, shillings nor pence. As a regular matter of business, it can never bo your duty to sell 011 terms which will not r yield you a ''living profit." This would be tc prepare ruin for yourself and loss for others.? It is certainly incumbent upon you to use all your tact and foresight to make each transaction pay. True, a case may arise wherein you would > I I essentially serve a neighbor by making a pur- ty cba.se or a sale on terms that would be of no ad- ot vantage to yourself. In such a case you might in save a man from all the social calamities and the fo I moral dangers'of bankruptcy, and thus perform 1 1 a higher benevolence than by a mere gift. It r;i j may, therefore, happen that cases will arise w j wherein it is right to forego any advantage to 01 1 yourself, in order to save, or even to serve alio- se - ther. But it nevercan happen that a case should n< - arise where you may wrong another to serve cl s yourself. This you certainly do, whenever, to F; j the beat of your judgment, you deprive another ui 2 of his projils to double your own. Such a trans action caft never be justified by any force of cir- tr cumstances, any traditional sanction of "the in trade," or any galaxy of examples. "Live and fe let live," is a guod old maxim ; with far more w pith ai.d sap in it than your dry and hollow 'A sophistry about "My money being of more value V to him than his goods." To he sure it is-, just it 2' then. But if that principle had justice in it, cc 1 (dod would never have laid a curse upon usury. y? > A I.<.m ..I,n-.inv-.fi ill lillv;-if.<Q wl.n tn;ilcf>S .1 11IT>- \\ ....... , -- , -- I .. fossion of piety, is bound not only to maintain | at substantial integrity, but also to regard the im- of ' pression his conduct will make upon men of the es ! world. This is demanded of hyn by the honor cli ' of religion, lie ought to aim at two things; at first, at showing that his piety does not render te him careless or incompetent; secondly,at showf ing that it does render him just and brotherly. ! The one and the other of these is absolutely ue" ccssary; the first :ts much as the second. Satan > is perpetually preacliing to men, tlyit if they are to succeed, they must be on his side. Mulii- cj i tildes abandon all hope of at the same time ser- ' ving God and making their way. They take it S( for granted, that one of two alternatives must bo jt chosen : an abortive career in this life, or a neg V c lect of the lile to come. Perhaps not without a * ? pang, they chose the latter. Every servant of J . God, then, wlio stands on that crowded field if _ i commerce, and hold* his ground, and goes for- n . ward and earns a good success, maintaining his - steadfastness the while, and duly remembering j( ) . things eternal, is a living discomfiture of Satan's ^ ; boast, that men must serve him or go to wreck, j ^ ' Every such man is a proclamation to thousands | * . that they may renounce the devil, renounce liis "j. f works, renounce all unrighteousness, renounce : the evil ways of the world, and yet succeed. But ^ if you do renounce him, remember that his intcr. est and his. art will be to make you "slothful in j business," that he may poiut you out as another i proof that piety and success do not dwell tog 'her. But whil > you outdo the worldling in tact, in 1 ( diligence, and in knowledge of your business, re- . , member that vou are charged with the soleiTm 'ol responsibility of adorning the gospel. Let in- 1 , tegrity and nobleness stamp your character.? 0 For the sake of Christ, cherish these, and manifest them. Bo not give men the impression that y??u gripe, and snatch and peel. Show them ^'l : that they cannot overreach you; show them 1(; that you would not overreach them. Do not keep all your generosity for private life. Let no! 'iJ; Sifrre dedtins/* b- a 'c.\ J forby litvi'ut yifis. Do f<*! endeavor to render every man full ju-tice; not -V,J only bv paying him all you promise to pay, hut also by ottering him wlint, in your conscience, you belieVi* allows to him a fair remuneration, ' and to you a fiir chance. Strictly paying all w' you promise to pay, may arise from selfishness, from a pure regard to your own credit and stand- I1'1 iug, irrespective of one generous feeling as to the i itere.sts of those with whom you have to deal. 11,1 Ofl.-n you cannot help having a judgment as to . whether or not a transaction will pay your neigh 1 DM". IK'lt"\'{*r a CK*C aria's vmiiti- yuu ii.hv: a. , | chance, lo t he best of your belief, of adding to J1" your own profits by fobl-in^ another of lii<, sure- l1'1 ly then the Christian course is Ixjth plain and imperative. You are bouiul to see tlwt your "" transactions are safe: for in that your character, ex your usefulness, and the interests of ;}11 with ^ whom yuu have to do are involved. You are 11 bouud to s-cure a fair profit; for it is God's law |Ri that Ial>or shall have'its reward, and that you J'?1 shall provide for your own. Hut you are not J1,11 bound to make a fortune; you are not bound to *'! gain money fast; and no intention as to the after use of money, can justify you in urging your profits to a point which robs another of his just j-'1' reward. * ^ ^ 4? & ^ 'Hut, I must look after myself; that is my ^ first duty." Are you sure of that? Suppose , hat it is so. You are, say, a grocer. Then, taking it for granted that your first duty is lo ^ look after yourself, of course you will resolve to be the richest grocer in the town; and as to the ' ' public, the public is not a living thing, a number 5 of your own brothers and sisters,?it is only the j. rude mass of ore from which you will extract the ^ ' gold. You will strain every uerve to please the j public, but not care a whit whether you advantage it or not, so that you only nett a rich profit cverv week. You do not study of how much use you can be to the public, but of how much use de yuu cau make the public to you. Then, your place is filled up, your work is doue, society is a ' 1 gainer by your diligence and enterprise; Gut m< who has to thank you ? Not God ; you did it not for his .sake. Not man ; you did it not for t0 his sake. God and man you put out of the <jues- ?f tion, and set up yourself as the power you would il serve. Then, what shall your reward be ? Of 11,1 1 course, what you strove for?pelt, pelt, jiolf alone. 1111 That one tiling you desired; that one thing vou w' sought after. Take it, then, take it; eat it, drink ha it, wear it, sit upon it, ride upon it, build it in ag walls, display it in apartments, spread it out in cr lands, count it, lay it up, write it in large books, invest it in sure banks, engross it in solemn d<rds, record it in legal testaments, clutch, car- w' rv, and cherish it right tip to the door of death ' di | then go forth and learn how poor a wretch i lie; at who, imagining that a man's life consistent in t,rf the abundance of the things lie pos-esseth, lays ih up treasure (or himself, but is not rich toward v' God. * * " * * * w "Then, I am to look after the interests of otli- 'K or people, and leave my own to look after them- Nvl selves." If by this you mean that you arc to a! neglect your duties, then, with all the authority ll' of God's command, we answer, No! If you ,,c mean that, performing all your duties faithfully, ' | you are to trust. Providence with your interests, cc then v.c answer, Yes! Self cries, Mind your in> terests. Wisdom cries, Mind your duties. And believe that in fulfilling your duties you arc re- th ally taking tlie best and sums way to true pros- W1 perity, which depends alone on the stnile of God. pi . Ti .i.. i :_.i_ -?i , _ i / i?,, fiuy uiuua yuut 10 proviue ior your own. jlui- i ' binds you to make your transactions pay; for horwisc! you do not fulfil your calling, but fail it. Duty sanctions you in taking a tit reward ai r labor, for that is God's universal law. Duty V ipjdies you with every motive fur being a first- f: ;tc man of business. And the question is not w hether you will be negligent or diligent, expert I useless; but, whether you will work as a more r.< lf-secking animal, neither caring to please God v >y to profit man, or work as a Christian, as a l> ii!d of God, taking an impulse from tiie Divine ch nther to lay out your abilities in promoting the in liversal weal. h< ' Ah ! but I don't understand that. It is too ni ansccudontal for me. I do understand mind- s! g my own interests. That is a motive one ie els. If I tried to live by the other motive, it 01 wild be only sham. I must be content to say, n: jy business is to do what I can for myself.'" os, that is true. You must be content to say j in ; or, whether you say it or not, you must be vi ntelit to live by it, so long as yon have within J w >11 that heart whieh dictates such speeches? I fe 'hat do you know about being a child of God,! cc id looking upon gains and duties with the eye hi a child of God, and trusting your own inter- sc ts to the heavenly Father, with the faith of a ra lild of God? You! Why, you live to buy ul soil, and crot fiin. You desire nothinsr bet- 'ii - --? -- ZD 'O r. i ou dream ot nothing nobler. li<< 'The multiplication table is your crccd, gv Your paternoster, and your decalogue." to You do not cheat or steal; you know bettor, nit would be the way to lose, not gain. Jt .V( ouid not serve in the long run. That is your hs iiof objection to it. It. would be short-sign ted lfi>hness. Then, yours is also, short-sighted 61 Ifishness; it will not answer in the long run. may serve your turn to-day, but look before a >u. You are not a* machine, constructed to tch money; you were made for something tu e. You have another life to live,?a life where CJJ wiltli is not reckoned in coins, but in the comendation of God. You will not hold up your mmercial countenance in that day, with a shiny jr upon it, and say you leave such deep points y< others, but as for you, you go ahead. I tell iu, you are not a money-making machine. You aJ e a man, God's offspring, our brother. God's lims are upon you; man's claim.-, are upon in; immortality is within you; judgment is fore you ; and every aspiration you waste upi self, is a step towards eternal poverty.? Wm. rili nr. A. M. A Bit of Romance.?About six years ago, a r. II. , having become involved in debt, t. his home and wile in another State for Texas, ^ r the purpose of improving his fortune in a ace u here he would be free from the demands I" clamorous creditors. In the course of time i went with the army to Mexico, and finally ?ndcd his way to California. After residing j "" ore some time, fie mot a young man from the ! ace of his former residence, who, however, he m J not know, aud' inquired of him if he knew H - wife, whom he described, without however, UI liing !::: ? '.ft-.* relation fie bore to h<T. The 01 ung man replied that Mr<. II was his ter, and the last lie heard of her she was in rt . Bonis. After accumulating a competence, r. 11 loft for tfie purpose of seeking his lb, who had long since given him up as dead. 1 St. Louis lie learned*that siie, had left that J?t ice some time previously, and was believed to |? in New Albany, lie came hither, and upon quiry learned that she was earning a livelihood sewing. He learned that she also, believed r brother to be dead, not having heard from ,'-v 111 for many years. Dr. II went to the use where he understood his wile, was living, V: it found she had left there a few days bef.re. e inquired ab.ut her general conduct and dc atior, and found that it had always heeu uu- w ceptionable. She spoke but little of hcY litis- "f mi, but told every one that she. considered in dead. The lady of whom Dr. II was 5,t! iking inquiries discovered that he was the v< lg lost husband, and offered to accompany .11 to the house where his wife was sewing. [ on arriving there she said to her, ' Mis. II Kl re is a gentleman who saw your brother in difornia.' She appeared astonished, looked at e visiter, but apparently did not recognize him. ?' c brushed back his hair, and said quickly, 1,1 iliza, don't you know me?' Mrs. JI?? im- ai diately swooned away, and fell 011 the floor. the same moment a husband and a brother 'l( .1 1 i ~ .1... 1 1 . .. !..._ fo ui tu uc wvio irzuun;u iu ui'.r. r. II. as we have said, lias returned with a injieteuee and the supposed widow, it is pre* cc mod, will no longer sew f->r a livelihood. ?; The above statement, we are assured, is strict- th correct. Here is a scene in real life, equal in I11 angeness to any to which romance ever gave 1,1 rth.?Xew Albany (/inf.) Ledger Jan. 28. An Honest Man in Gotiiam.?The Provinee Journal, which possesses a quiet vein humor which is most admirable, thus . strikes home," as Mr. Old Turveydrop, that ^ :>del of deportment, says : " The people of Xew York are utterly as- ? nished at finding an honest man at the head jj the department of public expenditures. If hippopotamus had been fished out of the ud in Hroauway, it would not have caused so j uch wonder. The papers are all teeming ith the praises of Mr. Flagg, who not only ,s stolen nothing himself, but has set his face ^ ;ainst the peculations and robberies of olli' f) " tu Hospitality.?I pray you, oh! excellent 1,1 ife, cumber not yourself and rne to get a rich liner for this man or woman who has alighted ;ij our gates ; nor a bed-chamber made at too ^ cat cost; these things, if tlicy are curious in j? em they can get for a few shillings in any t|, Huge; but rather let the stranger see if lie ,|, ill, in your looks, accent, and behavior, your .)t art and earnestness, your thought and will, j., [licit he cannot buy at any price in any city, 0J id which he may well travel twenty miles, in*, sparely ami sleep hardly to, behold. Let >t the emphasis oi hospitality lit* in bed and es >ard ; but let truth, and love, and honor and tii mrtesy, How in all thy deeds, [timerson. ul When we have practiced good actions awhile, in ev become easy ; and when they are easy, h'1 e begin to take pleasure in them ; when they k< ease us, we do them frequently, and by Ire- ?? icncy of acts they grow into a habit. gi A ^Jollier's Love. V/ho is there that does not acknowledjj nd bow in reverence to a mother's love ?fhat is it that causes the eye to fill?that r< iscs utterance to speech, and overwheln ith utter loneliness in the midst of life?>eny it not, true at heart; it is the sacre< iss of a mother's love?felt through Ion ears it may be ; yet always pure, ever sacrei lessing and refreshing! Gentle mother! tei ?rest, truest, best of friends ! constant in !o\ i weal or woe?in deformity or health, i >nor or shame?through evil and good r< Drt?thy affection knows no change nor tli ;ado\v of turning, lilossings on thee ! Ear st memories link together and throw holmes i thy name. Sacred to the heart is th oinory of a mother's love! Such were the reflections suggested by a eiderit in the great drama of life. A poc ctim to intemperance was staggering homt aids?no. he kne?v not whither!?when h 11 heavily to the earth. Stunned and hrui: ' by the fall, he lay for a moment insens e, hut assistance soon restored him to con liojsuess, and to a sense of his extreme dej da t ion. 'I thank you, gentlemen,' said ho faltering , was a hard fall, hut I am better now. :vo had many such. It is nothing when yo ;t used to it!' and he laughed as he prepare i start again cn his way. 'What a pity,'remarked a spectator 'tha >u should thus debase your manhood by sei li indulgence in strong drink.' 'You're a temperance lecturer, I suppos leered the inebriate. 'No friend,' replied the gentleman, 'I am nc temperance lecturer?at least, not one pro csedly. Nevertheless, I neglect no oppoi nity to speak a word in aid of that hones lose.' 'You're a preacher, then, mavbe V 'No.' 'Well, whatever you are, I want none c iur advice.' 'i mere I}' meant it for your good,' mildl isxvered the gentleman. 'Are you married 'No.' 'You have sisters and brothers V 'Yes, hut they don't know me now.' 'Have you a father s' 'No. flc died luany years since.' 'A mother ?' There was a deep silence. 'You do not answer. Have you a mother The silence that ensued was broken by th >bs of the wretched man. 'O God?0 God i exclaimed?'she too, is dead ! I broke lit xir heart many years since by misconduct.y poor, poor mother! So good and so bin -so gentle and forgiving and he smote hi ea-l in the bitterness of his anguish. Unhappy man?oh, how unhappy at tha ouieiil! Through all the vicissitudes of lif< mother's love had followed liiin?entreating gi:.g. imploring hint to forsake evil, and clin ilv -.,i wljifh is right. In vain had sh riVeil?he iiatl gone on blindly perverselj chlcssly, until now he was broken down i altli, lbrtune and reputation, an outcast froi icietv, disowned by his own flesh and bloo< et in the midst of this accuinuhtlioii of wrote! luoss, tliere came reproachfully, yet full < vo, a mother's voice, sweet and sad, and th . art bowed in grief to its mute appeal. Honor to woman ! Without her smiles e world would loose its brightness?sock 's charm would exist no longer?Christiai y would languish without her aid and appn tl. 'In whose principles,' said the dying daugl r of Ethan Allen to her skeptical father, 'i hose principles shall I die?yours, or thos 'my Christian' motherly. The stern old her Ticondegnra brushed a tear from his eye ; he turned away, and with the same roug iice which summoned the British to surrei r, now tremulous with (leep emotion, said 'In yoi'u motiimk's, child?in voua moth {'si !' The Mother's Law.?"Forsake not theja\ " thy mother," is the text of the printed sei otrprouchcd by the liev. Chandler Robbim id occasioned by the death of the mother i o late Judge Storyl It is an appropriate an tauliful discourse, as may be inferred from th Homing passage: . It is told to the honor of the great Lord 1L in. that he felt he could never repay hisobli itions to her who had directed his studio at lie delighted to speak of her through lit id in bis will left the injunction: "Bury m St. Michael's church, fur there was my uic ier buried." Let it also ho toldof the great American Ji st, whose fame is as pure and will be as endi ng as Kngland's renowned Chancellor that i as his request also, that the remains of his m< er should be laid close to his own at Monti uburn, that their dust might mingle in tin ave whose hearts had been so tenderly unite ) earth, and whose spirits should be as one i t-aven. Happy son, who enjoyed discipline and rc lived the blessing of such a mother! Lik ie good and great, he kept his mother's lav id it led him to honor. She, by her lidclit rough the quiet years of his domestic educs m, helped hi in to weave the crown of his m: re and public life, and he, by his manly vii es, twined a perennial wreath to adorn lit emory. A letter from Trieste, 18th inst., states tin ipivliensions are again expressed in Clreece < e failure of this year's crop of currants. Om g to the continued mildness of the xveathe e vegetation of the trees hud so fir advance at the leaves, and even the blossom, had a{ fared, hot covered with the white blight wiliest season was the unfailing forerunner of dii ise. ? Hai.m to tiik Oarii an Hkakt.?The swee l halm to the orphan heart, when contempt: ig the tomb of a departed parent, is to li ile to lift the heart to Clod, and feel a3 in h esctice, that the heart which now lies col death was never grieved by disobedient om the surviving child. On the contran nv sad it is to feel that perhaps our unkiiu iss may have, hastened to bring down thos rcy hairs with sorrow to the grave. ,, ?ciifrn! Htm s- William Kirkpatkick.?Tiik Question is Settled.?We h;ivc received tlic following let ter of the Secretary of State from a gentleman i- to whom it was addressed in Washington. It g states the rather extraordinary fact that Willi, liam Kirkpatrick, the son of Fingal and grandi lather of the Countess Moutijo, the newly ere'0 ated Empress of France, was American Consul n at Malaga for the long term of eighteen years, 2~ Department or State, ie Washington, Feb. 16, 1803. Sir: In reply to your inquiry respecting Mr. ;s William Kirkpatrick, I have to inform you that ,e he was appointed Consul of the I'nitid States for Malaga, by President John Adams, Janua11 ry 18, 1800. He retired from the office on the >r t2tith day of June, 1618, when his successor, ' Mr. George G. Karrell, entered npo*i his duties. e I am, sir, respectfully, your obedient servant, iimVAJU) l-.VKUr.TT. This speaks well of the grandfather of the '* Empress Eugenie ; for what other man than a >* steady, safe and superior practical man of business would have been continued for eighteen >> long 3'ears in the important post of Consul at ' Malaga, the fees and emoluments of which are a probably equal to two or three hundred dollars " a year? That man was the malting of the Kirkpatricks! Lucky son of Fingal.?iV. 1 Herald. |. Death of Hon. J. J. Ward.?We regret e to learn that-the Hon. Joshua John Ward died at his plantation, Brook Green, Waceamaw, yesterday morning, at 10 o'clock, from an at'* tack of paralysis. Col. Ward was in the 53d year of his age, and was one of the largest and ^ most successful Kice Planters in the State. lie represented his Parish for many years in the Senate with zeal and ability, and at his death was Lieutenant Governor of tlie State. >f . Charleston Mercury. ), Governor Manning.?In a private letter, ' says the Greenville Southern Patriot, from a a friend in Columbia, the following merited tribute is paid to the ability and industry of our worthy Chief Magistrate : " Gov. Manning has been recently here attending to bis official business, and bids fair to be one of the most industrious as well as the ? most popular Governors we have had in the last twenty years. lie is plain and unaffected ,, in his manners, and a noble specimen of the Carolina gentleman ; that he is also a man of r talent, and extensive information, is not to be j questioned." ?*? ls Conors Law Slit.?A most rapid case of ^ toadyism is narrated by a Paris correspondent of the New York Herald. It came before the tribunal of the Judge de Paix at Tolouse: ^ Louis Napoleon, in the course ot his visit to ^ this city, in the month of October last, appeared to be much struck with the enthusiasm with '' which a parly of ladies in a hatter's shop in the Rue St. Eliennc cried " l'Empereur! Vive I Louis Napoleon!" and he threw to them a bouquet of artificial flowers, which he carried in his hand. The bouquet was picked up by the hatter, and presented by him either to one of the ladies, a Madame S , or to his little child, whom his wife was carrying in her arms. '' Which of the two it was, could not, in the confusion, be uclually ascertained, but Madame S. took the bouquet home with her. The ) latter subsequently obtained it from her, and !...# iin l'iiaiiiii imf rnhim if Illlllllait'U Iliac lie auouiu nwv lecuiw IV. ....... ame S insisted that it was her property, as he had presented it to her, and that she had 1 only lent it to him to show to a sick person ; the hatter, on the contrary, maintained that it was ills, and he hud only -let her take it home to show lier husband. The dispute grew " fast and furious," and as there was no likelihood of its being brought to a friendly conclusion, niadauie .S cited the hatter before the Judge de I'aix, to have him condemned to give up the bouquet, The Jud^p, after making a searching _ investigation into the facts of the case, was unable to come to any other conclusion than 'i that Madame S and Madame B , the halter's wife, had displayed equal enthusiasm 1 for the Emperor, ami that there was nothing to c show that his majesty had destined the bouquet for either of them in particular; lie, lliere1 fore, like another Solomon, decided that it '* should he equally divided, and that in the .s event of the hatter refusing to give up half of it, ho should pay 100 francs. e J ... A WlMlKAl.L FOR A JoUUXKVMAX PkIXTKR. ?Augustus 11. McDonald, a journeyman prin* ter in the olfice of the Milwaukie News, a few days ago received a letter, which informed him that his great uncle Marshal .McDonald, * who recently died in Paris at the Hotel de \ ille, aged eighty-two, had left him hv his will j a snug little fortune. McDonald was wealthy, ( and a .Marshall of France, appointed by lloiiu" parte. The fortunate printer was formerly a sailor in the British navy, and received a pen'* slon in consequence of a wound in the leg re? ccived at the bombardment of Canton. He | \ | fought in the Mexican war from Vera Cruz to * the city of .Mexico, and was wounded in the 1 I ankle at Vera Cruz. He bears the mark of a 1 I severe wound in the neck, which he received at the gates of Mexico, anil secured a pension r Ironi the United Slates. His brother, Arthur McDonald, was a surgeon in the British navy, and was on board the Terror, in the expedition ,C of Sir John Franklin?since when, of course, lie has not been heard of. d Acquisition* of Ccma.? In speaking of the ) acquisition of the island of Cuba by the United li States, the Liverpool Journal says : 0 4'\Yc see only a natural movement, the eventual successful result of which is obvious, in the cry for the acquisition of Cuba; and it is idle in L Kuglatid attempting to check an inevitable dcl* velopinont of the intluences created in the Union ie by the exi-teiico of slavery. At any rate, the 's history of Fngland being a liistory of annexations, d we, in our pre>s and in our conversations, should :tJ be more scrupulous in our comments on the con- j f> duet of the States. Among other facts wo have ! 1 to lace tliis?that the United States arc rapidly so passing us in most things which bespeak genuine national greatness." , Paper Mill al Bath, S; C. The following very interesting description of the Paper Mill at Bath, ou the railroad, .. six rnile3 from Hamburg, we copy from _.the ' ? Charleston Standard : "The waters of Horse Creek are destined to be celebrated iii the history of South Carolina manufactures. Besides their grist and saw mills, more numerous probably than that jr of any other stream of the same length, in State, she has in a few miles of each ulner, Vaueluse, Graniteville and Bath. The^ first two are already well known, and therefore we pass them by. But what and where/is B ath This may well be asked. Two years a"go it . was the site of an old saw mill that had been abandoned, the timber, mill dam, all gone, it. was known only as what had once been Milton's .Mills. Now it is a beautiful little village ou the South Carolina Railroad, o^uidis-tant between Graniteville and Hamburg.? The fine water power of the creek, and the pure, clear water of some little streams whictr^ there empty into it, attracted the attention ? f "Xq some persons now connected with the South ^ Carolina Paper Manufacturing Company.? / They had searched a long time for such a site. The Augusta Canal and other water power j had been carefully examined, but no where else could they find the silvery water so ne- N ccssary to making white paper. At Bath, therefore, they secured a site and a hundred horse water power, and at once erected their mill and cottages. The former is of brick, in width 50 and length 250 feet, besides a w ing 40 by 40 feet, a stock house of 40 by 90, and a receiving and delivering depot on the rg|I* road turn out of 30 by 60 feet. Thefte Ijuifldings make up the most complete manufacturing arrangements. The stock-house has a railway ttloug its'whole length, which extends t(} thejhill and the depot, so that the rags and other material for paper to be stored there, can be transferred from one to the other with great facility. The material received daily, at the depot, is easily transferred, ns wanted, to the second story, at one end of tlie mill, and from this point it -progresses constantly until in the shape of paper, bleached, pressed, folded, and in bundles for market, it is passed into cars at the other end of the mill. So much for the buildings; if any can be more complete, wo would like to see them. "The machinery is all of the latest and most approved construction, and consists of one Fourdrinier imd one cylinder machine, each GO inches, eight large iron engines, and one large iron cylinder bleach, besides bleach tubs, steam boilers, rag cutters, dusters, devils, etc., all of which, during a month's trial, have been found to work admirably. "The establishment now employs 20 to 25 men and" boys, and 15 to 20 girls, who turn < out between 2500 and 3000 pounds of paper. The samo number of hands after a little more /' experience, and with the mill in full operation i will bo able to make more than 3000 pounds. The qualities vary from the linest book paper to the strongest and coarsest wrapping paper. No writing paper is made there, experience , elsewhere having proved that even large cs- ! tablishmonts should not attempt to make so many different qualities. "We would willingly describe the prooess t of manufacture, but could not do so intelligi- i bly without proper drawings. The followiug \ skeleton may, however, serve to give some f idea of the successive steps in the process.? I '1 he rags, as we said before, are passed into the second story of the builJing. There they \ are sorted, dusted and cut, and thence are \ passed down into the Cylinder Bleach. This is a large iron hollow cylinder, six or eight feet in diameter, and fifteen to twenty feet long. It is revolved by water power, and when filled and in motion, a stream of steam constantly passes through it. This gives the rags their first bleaching. After this they are passed into the engines?a sort of iron tub, at the botroia of which is an inclined plane, Iraversed with knives, with their edges slanting upwards, above which revolves ^succession of blades, set into a cylinder. In these engines the rags are thoroughly washed) and slightly reduced to pulp. Thence they are passed into the steep chests for a thorough bleaching.? Thence the heating engjnes receive, and, with their sharp knives, reduce them to a completer * paste. This is passed into the stuff chest, whence it is transferred to the machines, which through their succession of rollers, and hollow cylinders heated with steam, roll it out into dry white paper, ready for the folder. The web of paper, before it reaclies-the cutters, may be of any width up to CO inches?the width of the machines; and its length is limited only by the supply of the pulp?that being constant, the operator may roll out a continuous web of as many thousand yards as he chooses. "Mr. Walker, the agent of the Company, is now receiving from the mill daily supplies of book, uews, and brown paper. As yet the demand has been greater than the supply, but he hopes soon to be able to supply all his customers with every desirable quality. The success of this enterprise, now considered certain, will make all kinds of press and wrapping paper as cheap in Charleston and Augusta as they arc in New York. Southern publishers will then be able to compete successfully with the Northern, and thus, in the end, we shall learn and practice self reliance. A Piz/ix.?The following sum or problem was given to a boy by a gentlemen who offered him ?50 if lie would do it within six months, at the same time assuring him that it could be done, and there was no "trick" or "catch" about it. Take nine figures, dibits, 1 2 343078 9, and also the 0, and add llicm together so that they amount to just 100?using them once and but once. Thus, for instance, take 7 and the 0, and they make 70, and then to the 70 add all the rest of the figures, not used in making 70. The problem would perhaps be better expressed thus: Use all the ten numeral characters, 0 1 2 3 4 5 C 78 9, but each only once, to form numbers which, added together shall amount to just 100. This can be done without resorting to any unnatural or improper expression t f tho numbers, and is a problem well worth the attention of the young arithmeticians. If any one will let us know bow it is done, we will inform our readers.