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r wm # ,m * j " \ ^ .^.,^? *^ ....^ ....,.gr. . i --. bb ^" ' r ^ ^ ^'. * - ? ..? ' ,.&>} ' 'w ' '->*?? " ii-vcy^'.^.-Vi;..^ ,.**-- ,> - "T ' - ' ' * - riVintf firtSfrr 'vJrK> " ~. Ur. '; fv? ?-..fr V r' 1 VOLUME XV. CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA, TUESDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 3^ 185:4. -:$W f^tMBERAC/ , ' ^ *- ?v V'-dg^w?g- - y&A- - ^- - * ] . - ' - i:;^ > *-. ;. ^tv 'C * The -Gambling Honscs of Paris. * y>t"rrft'n.-r- * ,^Itjras daring tn^ Consulate and tho Empire that the, gambling houses of Paris were in their ^j^y. '^Asiew, of. oyr readers,"fottun ate ly/ Map- haye seen those theatres of terrible^ahd ab.a^hingrpassiori/ ;.ye qUote the account, - which ^Bfi^ef^n^the.lat^jpropnetor .of-the .Constitu* "The. f^fc,day;?$ihe month Hound myself richer thai| usual. I/had sold, a very excellent skeletb^i.fd^t^ehty^five.francs, and was able to Wvite twovfHeri^s to dinner. Rosseau fone of his school cbwades) - was on eo f my.:guests.? He was anxious to return the dinner: the day ? wasjappointed, and the rendezvous ,\vas at six ^clockj'atth^ Gafedu Roi. There were but tjjftee ^flus^Uossgau, myself, and a young .medical, stu de nt, Mhq.-jm? fast dying with a .^^ping^Qnsumj)tioh^which had beeh brought on by fatigues in the hot sua during the revolution of July. ^Allofus were punctual at the rendezvous.Our host,was sadand embarrassre&r At last he said to us, 'I have invited you to dine with me; but . my. purse is empty.' In this alarming situation, the young physician said, 'It is probable that ,we are both (looking at me) in the same position as Rosseau.' He spqjte the.truth. .'Eh^ien/T.there..js but one thing to be.done?ril.go aod;bocrow twenty cFffoi^ihe/J(tfteRer of the- cafe.' 1 doubted '< .y^j^jnach whether.be had any credit there; bat be came back.with a gold piece in bis hand. We started og^ta^i^q&j.and crossed the garj^ojal. 'Suppose,we go np st^irK'^said one*ef us, 'and risk at the rouge-etnoir half "of oor fdrtune?say, ten,francst' The -- .--,v ?5v. * f. 4 ? ** "* ^ * > n proposal was unanimouBly accepted. llosseau was sent oft'tpjtrj^our^ fortune- He. soon-.returned?he hack logt,^ 0ur position became a bad one;,but we.soon after met, feeling all the pleasures ofhope, oneof our comrades, the tall GaulthJer^ a charming ..young, felloe, and the son'bf a^rammarian.,'W^Jxdd him-.our story. Unfortunately"he.could add -to, our purse only threedrancs and| a half. and he gave ns to understand,?by a gesture, that his watch was at tbepawnbroker's. ^jVe spon induced .our new cpmra^.in.tnisf^jioe^jtaclub.-his money with ours, and to. go and mkrthe thirteen and a half francs aCthe rapid chances of the roulette.? v .'t""l reiurn> w?s past seven o'clock;, and the question shortly became whetherf wejshould ^dine .qp^notl^At length our friend, appeared, and . s.howed ^ us- sixty francs. We gayly went to Vevonr's for;our dinner. s .1 ?(?rcelyrknow*why^but we ^H,reaolved,to dine very economically. ,,^^e^knew not,w hat .else to do but to return to a-,,gambling house. . Our friend Gaulthier was^dtatg&djo play, all that remained in our ^ common" purse^twrty-nve" frail csj amt would share our'earnings. In "a very fe\v minute*. Gaulthier k?t>y Bt ? ^ nm.UL.-m roulette; and tte^sfrare of each of us was two tfundred lramcs. Gaulthier and Rosseau Widly-piayeci their two hiitfdred francs, and, in a few minutes, they each had fifteen, hundred or two ^thousand francs .of winnings; Rosseau was greatly indebted at the Cafe du Roi,* and at the Cafe-des Varieties. >ve lore nim,soio say*from the gambling house, and, by paying a large^som on accoimt, he opened a ncsv credit at both of the' cafes. Head and ears in debt, without a cent of'mbney in his jiocket, and | without credit in the morning," in the evening be^U. ricfi-and esteemed.. Such wonders easilfrjwOlys head. 'The next day, after leaving the hospital, I returned alorie fo the same gambling house, to risk the hundred and odd francs which|reinained to "me after the" division of the evening's spoil, andJ^vvon,some twelve louis d'ors. It seemeii like "a dream! The next day at noon I was at the"8ame?'place; I had taken the preitretained me.. For nearly tbr^yff^f ^on.in this way never less than a hundred, trancs a day, ana oiien mui:u luiui.-. *prasv- 1 stillcontinued to perform my duties as an assistant' house-surgeon in the hospital; but Fwas on ill terms with my books, leading what is called a 'fast! life, frequenting .the resthurfimts and. the theatres, having for, thejSrst time'gold-coins in my pocket, and, for a student,-large sums in my secretary. A profes-L-i - . *, * i L i " sional gamnler, whom 1 had never seen, stopped m oneway, aboiit,dinner time, in ttie^, cadesyof the Palais Royal. 'Monsieur,' he said, . ' I have "nothing to ask.frora you; but I saw you play this inorning.:.yj?il'ow'.me to shake hands good lu<jk' and more good sense., ? . ^'I-kne>v bow to 8h)p.in my winnings; and so Ioften'had the^chagritT of playing only a quarter$ffen hour*"a,day. How heavily the.)i:ne hong oil my hands dqring' the rest of.the day! RouJetite'wiQnjhgs excite all sorts of imtnoralities Jn the heart, ^ad nothing wore brutalizes the iaindj nothing-sooner extinguishes all Ipye of labdr and of study; nothing inspires greater conlemptpf all business, and a greater loathing foty/tfen.jthese richesof an hour, which fortHnBttves you, that she mav have the plea^re ofdiMpoiling you Of them. PspeHk only of the player \yho wins; what would I Have to say^of tHe player who.loses?-. In this intoxica ?:nrr. iillanaoc YavptpH - und disnnifttfi'd bv con greater difficulty to - f# V ^/iraited,wgnjpes?., .Had.! plaved h,gher, sa.d qijraelct would "hflve won M^gejortune. JJad resolved never toatafce more-at first than ten Jouis d!ors; and during ^ 1 daiJ>' {von 80,ne fift*en 0 s.take more at firet.than five ^^^ davs that syst'om. | s^e Tbtve "i "' ' ' ** ' ' * '' was. not even a combat!, I lost every.time. A gambler's idea s'uggeswcl itself to myytniiid!^ I visited that day every.-^|^1jlinw hoiise in P^ns, ancLat six o'clock iiad&carcely enough.money left .to pay-for the <lmher.I-had ordefed.l^-Rich with nine or ten thousand fraiic9, and a great many caktl.es in the.air, in the-morning, in the evening I had not> cent nor ah illusion. * We gayly.buried at table my fortune and my gambling luck; and the*-hexVmorning-I awoke; my heart and my mind free, almost glad to resume my past life of laboraffd of study, and to end that careworn and agitated -life of a professional: gambler^--did not,- however, o'periAmy books again without feeling my mind wander. The gambler reappeared. I reproached myself bitterly for having failed to play" well?for having run after my lost money. I no longer laid the blame on fortune; I imputed it.all to myself! ? I even thought it would continue to pro tect me. I found means, for the first time in my "life, to borrows-thousand crowns, and notwithstanding my evening's experience, notwithstanding all my vows, I lost these thousand crowns in one single day.. Behold whither the sale of a skeleton and a friendly dinner-may lead one! Happily, these rude adventures restored me to my senses, and I felt alarmed at the dangers I had run. During these three months of dissipation, I have at least witnessed all the madness of gamblers. I have met in these gambling houses, artizans, fathers; young men, gray beards, soldiers, literary men, some physicians, and more than one public functionary." ? ^ % * V V. , , s The Secret. ? Roger Bacon was an English monk, who taught in the University of Oxford more than six hundred years ago. He was a man of great 1 learning, skilled in Latin, Greek and Hebrew, but especially fond of chemistry. He used to spend many hours each day in one of the se cret cells of the couvent, engaged in some experiment. While thus employed, he had found that sulphur, charcoal, and saltpetre, mingled 1 together in a certain way, would make a new ' and strange compound ; indeed so strange and < dangerous did this new compound seem, that the monk himself was almost afraid of it, and ' therefore told no one of his discovery. ; Among the pupils was a youth who was so fond of study, and so prompt to obey his teach- 1 ers, that he became a favorite with all, and < Roger Bacon would often ask his help in his laboratory?a large room where the students 1 'were instructed in chemistry; but he never al- 1 lowed him to enter his private cell. This youth's > name was Hubert de Dreux. 1 Sometimes as Hubert sat reading or study- ' iug, or mixing medicines in this larger room, * 1_ i:i.? .1..... a * uc was siurueu wiui suuuua ui\c muuuci buuiuig from his master's apnrtment; sometimes a j for.-4 moment through the f C S 0 ' ie ^>e" nn unnleasftqt odor 1 AH these tilings excited his curiosity; but I whenever he knocked or strove to enter, Roger ^ Bacon would sternly bid him to attend to his own affairs, and never again interrupt him. The * door was always kept locked, and every time j the boy ventured to ask the cause, he was si- s lonced by his teacher's gruff words and severe looks. ; , ( Months glided away, and still he eagerly but 1 vainty sought to learn the secrot. At length I an opportunity afforded. Roger Bacon was < widely known as a physician and surgeon.? I One cold November day he was called to at? ' tend on Walter de Losely, a rich man in the > next town, who had been dangerously hurt.? 1 The monk gave all the necessary orders to Hu- < bert, and bidding him to bo careful to put out * the.fires and lock the door when he was done, ! he started on ins errauu oi hiciuj. Hubert soon finished his task, and was just i bounding up the oaken stairway, when an evil thought came into his mind. " Roger Bacon ' is gone; he will not be back for several hours; I can now find out what keeps him so much in that dark, damp cell." He looks anxiously around ; no one is near, and with a light step and fast-beatiug heart,- he reaches the forbidden room. The key is not there, and so there is no hope of entering, yet perhaps he may see something through the key-hole, and kneeling, he presses his cheek against the heavy door. It opens-at his toueli,'fur Roger Bacon, in his haste," had locked without closing it, and thus ] the eager boy stands where tor months ne naa t longed to be. In vain he looks for any thing new or strange, and with a sad face is turning awayy.when his eye falls on a huge book, whose 'open page is. still wet with ink from his teach, er's pen. It is written in Latin, but that is as plain Jo him as his own English, and in another.ng,qment he had retad the-secret so long hidden .fr'om him. , \ .Now. he must.try,it for himself, to see if the mixture is indeed po wonderful.? " Ah!" he ; exclaimed, " this yettow powder is the sulphur; 5 this hard, clear'substaritfe is the saltpetre, and this black .poxvder must .be th^ other^ v.Here is the very bottle my. master/ has used ;' I will mix it in^this and see. The fire is not ?dead in the furnace; a few sparks will give heat enough, and then Hubert de Drcux is as^ wise as his wisest teacher." 'All that afternoon Roger JBacpa been f .bending over the sick manVbefjfi; He had done all:.h.e;.,could., to. relieve hiftiJHferings, and as night was .-coming on, he-bade him good-bye ! arxd. se^cyit for home. ^Tlwwind whistled over . the bleak hills, and the monk wrapped his cloak closer ^arouijd. him, and hurried his horse towards _thgr.coovent's good shelter. Ashe reached; thpiPy of the last hill, Oxford lay before ^ lights twinkling here and there, and I it^fiilfkpires rising high. Suddenly a stream <$fflame rose from his convent ^high on the ^darkened sky, and in an instant a roar loud as .^the heaviest thunder "burst on the still night, ? and distinctly amid this fearful sound was heard a sharp cry of distress. One moment and the whole convent^was on fire. The trembling monk dashed down the hill side to the scene of woe. As ho sprang from his horse a man drew i forth from the ruins the lifelesjj. form of Hubert.* The terrified orowd believed that Roger Bacon bad b?en practising witchcraft, and without listening to his defenor, thww him into a gloomy dungeon. For many j^ars;he remaincd in prison, but at last he. was released, and J> at the age of eighty,-lay down in death.,, ;H?j wrote his^well-kept secret in strange words in j one of his books,' and wise men studied.long, 1 before they could read it. . He had discovered p how to make gunpowder.- -- " 1' The terrible5 explosion in Oxford in 1282 does not'seem strange to us, for we know, the wonderful, power of gunpowder, but to the people of England at that time, it appeared to be.the-work of an evil spirit. Thus, year by _? year, the world advanced in knowledge, and the children of 1854 are familiar with many things which were mysterious to learned men six hundred years ago. How grateful we.should be to God for all our privileges, and how careful to improve them aright. , - ' American Messenger. 1 The l>ying Wife. Yes, she is dying! Her physician has just proftounced the- solemn words, and yet sheIf _1 -1 ' A tl ' Kl.~ sjeepa bu cjuieuj. -rv aiuiiu line liiul ui ail ui-v fant occasionally passes over her downy cheek. Her breathing is easy and regular, except a little shorter, and she looks so pleasant that you cannot believe her dying. Oh ! how, earnestly you beseech the God of life to spare your loving and lovely companion. How tenderly you press hec to your heart, like some tender mother would her sleeping infant!?How passionately you press your lips to her cold brow, and think of the sweet seasons yon have passed with her! iMemory recalls the time when, with a trembling voice, she whispered that your love was all returned, and how true she has ever been to that leve. You recollect how happy and trusting she looked into your face when you first pronounced the words "my wife I" You remember, too, when you have come in tired and weary, her tender smile and her upturned eyes, full of love and sympathy, were upon you. How willingly she ministered to all your wants, and, in her own cheerful way, suuu maue j uu loiget cue luruiuna ui me. O memory, be quiet! And yet there is a> saddened pleasure in such thoughts, for you know that to that confiding creature you were sver kind. ... But see, she moves, and looks as though she J wishes to speak to some one. How anxiously 1 you listen, lest you lose a word. " My husband !" she exclaims, WI atr, still I with you, and leaning upon that breast that has v' ;ver been a sweet resting-place for me ;?but, ' my sorrowing one, I must leave you. I seem 1 ;o be more favored than you, for I go .to that i aright land before you; for to part with you ( n this cold world and live, would be more than ' [ could bear, therefore the Lord, in his tender nercies, has been mindful of my weakness J jven here, and has called me first Loved one, 1 veep not for me; I am happy. Death brings ' oy to my soul; it releases my happy spirit ^ rom this wearisome body. And soon, my hus^ a >and. this brow win bo encircled with n ing with g?m*; and, best of all, my SaviourX? vho bought the precious gift for me, will be " here, and bid even me welcome to that city, J? vhoso streets are paved with gold, where one >right summer always reigns, where parting, sl iorrow, pain and anxiety will never come."? >' Then, dear one, when you see me cold and Cl lead, when these limbs once lay still and quiet, ivhen these lips, that ever gave back the kiss iL' pu gave, refuse to respond to yours, even forjC( die last kiss, weep not, for know that I amF aappy. I ask you not to forget me. 0 no !?j,n think of me, and forget all my waywardness; and meet me, oh! meet me on the floweiyi banks of the river of life. There we will nev-ide sr be separated, but will bask in the sunshine!th of our Redeemer's countenance for ever, and^o still for ever. But hark! what music is that ?jar It /inmoc Ctill r.narnr Who is it that Callsbr me? 0. I see! They are coming for me^ with palms of victory?they smile, they wel-lfo come me! I come?I come ! Loved and true,ih, farewell! bless him?my?" and so saying, her lovely spirit takes its flight. She finishes!!? her prayers where they can best be heard?>d before the throne of God. |ir ' *' iu Aunt Fannny's creed about CinLDiin?r.|ei ? I believe in great round apples and bigle, slices of good plain gingerbread for children, I believe in making theirclothes loose, enoughjg; to enable them to eat it all, and jump around injxj them when they get through. lis I believe in not giving away their little prop-jer erty, such as dolls, kites, balls, hoops, and thejta like, without their leave. he I believe in not promising them a ride an dm then forgetting all about it. ih I believe in not teasing them for amusementfe and then punishing them for being "trouble-^ some." - lie I believe in not allowing Bridget and Bettyijc to box their ears because their beaux did'nfcp come the evening before. ea I believe in sending-thorn to school- wherjia, there are backs to the benches, and where thti'j school ma'am has at leust 'one oflfor.' I be-iai lieve no house can be properly furnished with-hn out at least a dozen children in it I believe I - ? .1 .. _r i... little oUiidren to oe an mat ia ien us ui isiorui dise^ktld 'that any house-keeper harboring 411 person that don't like Ihem, had better count, j up her silver without loss of time! a id Widows.?Young widows are always blithe!" They ever meet one with a smile and flatter-1"! ing word. Can any one tell why? Thejf19 pay very scrupulous attention to dress. Non^l know so well what colors, black or otherwise3*' are best suited to their complexion, nor what*1 freaks of millinery serve best to heighten th4re beauty of their form. Their knowledge of thi^ei subject they will put in practice. Does anffy ' " " ?_,T3r?n one Know wny i toung wiaows, u at mojrr pleasant, gay and agreeable, through affected!180 ne8s, become really so through habit. It ijcai said that she who is married a second time iP | a better wife to her second than to her firsi^P husbaud. Who can give a reason if-we hav^? not given it? Young widows are the mosf h charming'part of creation?the envy of onf'? sex and the beloved of the other; and why ? T'8 Would you be exempt from uneasiness j, cuTh nothing you know or suspect to be wrong;'an<jbs if you wish to enjoy the purest pleasure, djr c avarvthintr in rnnr nnwor that, vnu Aff> ftrtnvillulOf o ... ...j.- r-,- ed is right. : , bri % **, "V > .* ' , y < Self Education. j? It is emphatically true that the great men of foe eftrth, in all ages, have been those who, in sariv life, have had to buffet the current of adverfty. Born to the inheritance of no patritnoiy, theirs was the lot oftoir and incessant labw. With firmrfind unshaken resolutions to surjiount the tide.of unfavorable circumstances, th<r have fully demonstrated the truth that evry man is the " Architect of his own fortue." In this enlightened Republic, where eery facility is rendered for the onward and u,interrupted progress of him who would lunch his little ,bark for the haven*.of renown jid distinction, with every, breeze in his favor, ^young man is chargeable with culpable re hissness who does not better his.condition in ife, morally, intellectually and pecuniarily. A ;ood thorough and practical education is withit the reach, of all endowed with ordinary catacity.:. X want of funds is no excuse for untied tflbrt. There are only two pre requisites - the will to do ', and the physical ability to exert te. With these at his bidding lie can outrfie erery opposing obstacle. Yoi^g men whose circumstances in life will mt enrm-irfl .irlvantnffeousl v with those of the ~r''\r? - ~ nore. favored are too pro'ne to yield to a false lotion of pride, shrink from labor as undignifcd or humiliating, and hug with supineness aid inaciivity to some delusive schemes, which if their imagination by some sudden revolution o! fortune's wheel will end in full realization of al they so ardently hope for. No error is nore pregnant with fatal consequences. How nany miserable victims of disappointment can cte bacl to this as the first point of their aberatbn fi o^i the path of success and happiness.? No manshould be ashamed of labor, nor should h? allow the Utopain dreams of fancy to suppnntthifaots of stern reality. If early habtuated'to close and attentive application: lie his the iwo-fold advantage of being .equipped for unfatorable emergencies on the one hand aid .of bping the recipient of , what every forttitousand unexpected blessing, may forsooth fell to h? lot on the other. Labor instead of being adisgrace to a man, is an honor and a recommendation. We want no better proof that a person will be of no use to himself and tc society, than to sec him day by day lounging afld loitering away the golden hours with which i beneficent Providence has favored him. [tdoler.ee is the foster-parent ot vice in its nost malignant forms. Labor, aside from enstring n directj and immediate renumeration, includes the possibility of corrupt and con:,minating associations. With the truth of these facts before him, Jfinonstrated alike by observation and reason, t should be to the young man just entering ha arena of life's strgggles an incentive to ligh and noble achievements. If he be a pericn of poor parentage let him go to worlc. In i short time he will, by the use of economy Until nc oOaii imv&?Jujunm rents at least of an education. When his funds ecome exhausted let him recur again to labor >r their replenishment, thus to resume his budies. By so doing he finds in a few short ears, that his prerogative for claimingincreased ompensationis undisputive, and that he can irn in one year what at the outset, required ie toil of two, and even three years. His lucation is practical, thorough, and here it iay be observed is the ground of his success after life. Make your Will.?Reader! we do not i ssire to alarm you by calling to your mind at you must die, though it were well for you i think of it oftener than you. do?but as you ] e mortal, and must one day-leave all earthly ' iesessions behind, ifyou wish those posses- ( ins, much or little, to descend peacefully into < e hands of those whom you desire to inherit ; em, take our advice and make your will, i lile you are in possession of all your facul- J s and capable of making a just and proper f e. We once read of a young man in good t cumstances, with nobody dependent on hirn in young wife, and she was utterly depen- p ut. He was taken sick, and evidently unto g ath. His friends besought him to make his II. But no. he should snon' ho woll Yof ? lin and again, before many witnesses, he ri tressed his wish that all he had should be h wife's. He died intestate, and other mem- p s of the family (among whom were great r< lwart brothers, well able to take care of c< mselves) came forward to divide with his T ing and helpless widow the little property w ich would have made her comfortable for iti , but dispersed amoi.g several, was hardly a p rsel for any body. To be sure these people b< \v they had no moral claim; they knew the cased never intended it( for them; they had af rd him, with their'own ears, again and w fn express his wish that his wife should huve sp ptthole. But who ever yet saw the family th jiwu'rqtis, nay, so honest, in such post mor- nc ry rflatiers as1" to decline on moral grounds a it the law allowed them? :. ce Contra, we knew a family xvho, on the ca th of the husband and father, found that his tic had not only long beeen made, but wise- he generously made, and placed in the hands Tc n executor, onrefully selected for his probity fir, accurate business habits. The property pr< tonnd admirably invested; the accounts >le and clear; the debts all paid, or proviamade for their payment; and the whole , c of administrating upon the will a mere an, ime. In short, the man who was one of jt { iiost healthy and hearty of men, had pre- prt d, in his temporal affairs for death; and i he did die, he went without a moment's ^p ling. Every day in the year, his heirs ern y in the fruits of his wise forecast, have me| m to bless I119 memory, if for nothing else, r0p use he has not bequeathed them the cares tca perplexities which they see embittering the \3 a iness of others. tast ader, rich orpoor, if you want to live in an,j earts or a grotelul posterity, make your otjs while you have strength and reason to do jn(je ht?Spirit of the Age. a fllm * -w . anti e heaviest Tetter that weighs down the an ? 0/ aqoaptive, is. as the web,of the gossa .to h tompared with the pledge of the man of scici . The wall of stone and bar of iron may tern 5kfth, bnt his plighted word never. vine <* * s* * M . - ? ^ < 9?."> u * ?v.v*3.* ^ W.erary rtlbllyallon,. ''Line.-upon litre, [frGeept upon precept,-here a little Sontbern editor^pniust adpp.t. \vi th-regur.ij. to,the subject of?the4 alwve'cap^oi>. /The-Spnlbei? people,require-pereevcranceoojexhortoticm uri this theme, and then-whatever,'.niny.be tha,.re: suit, editors will haVe tbejsattefaction.of know, ing .that they have. done -their duty. - \X7l*ft* ? nl/rt tUA- T ' ' kA! fit! *t iioi uvwi iions me i Ciuici ? v lowing extract jroin' Putnajn's MonHtlfeloi September answer: * - vVVe have dweltupon .the proceedingehf tfot pro-slaver}'party so Iqng, that we haveAjefi ourselves little space for urging upon othfrtpa* ties their duties in the crises, vfiut w^wHfaip speak to- tbem as parties. .We will say to'thop as.Arpericaus^as-^Freemen, as. Christians, tlw the time has arrived when all divisions'and an imositics should be laid asiderjn -order to-re3 cue this,great, this beautiful, this.glpriou?.-lunc | from a nateful dpminatiou. . A? it now is, m man who. expresses, however moderately,,;t free opinion of the slave system of. the;South is allowed to hold any office of profit or trust , under the general government,. No man cai be rresiduntj no-sman?.aatorcign minister, nt man a tide-waiter even, or the meanest scu 1 Ijor in the federal kitchen, who has.not first bowed do\vn and eatcn-the dirt of adherence to slave ry. Oli! shameless debasement?that under.,i Union formed for the establishment of libertv and justice?under a Union born of the agonies, and cemented byjhejblopd of our parents?r Union whose mission.it was to set an exam pit of republican freedom, and commend it to the panting nations of the world?we freemen ol the United States, should be suffocated by politicians into a silent acquiescence with despotism ! That we should not dare to utter the words or breathe the aspirations of our fathers, 'or propagate their principles, on pain of ostracism-and political death ! Just iieaven.!- into what depths ol infamy and insensibility have we fallen! - . v ^Wa ronnnf flint until lb n contimnnf nf cln. very is driven back to its original bounds, to the States to which it legitimately belongs, the people of the North arc vassals. Yet theii emancipation is practicable, if not easy. The} have only to evince a determination to he free, and they are free. They are togjdiscard all past alliances, to put aside all present fears, tc dread no future coalitions, in the single hope of carrying to speedy victory, a banner inscribed with these devices: The repeal of the Fugitive Slave Laic?The Restoration of the Missouri Compromise?No more Slave States?No more Sluve Territories?The Homestead for Free Men on the Public Lands." The readers and subscribers of this magazine in the slaveholding States it is fairly presumable, gave their support to it as a literary publication. They had little idea that in contributing their three dollars annually, they were Tm^ and ciFculatmg^o^fiy1^^^!!^ subversive of their rights and int^restu. They rlirl unf AAnaainA * Uo f ?n ?* l.!_ ^ jT .?? *i . uiu nut ^miuhc tuiii/ in um?\iij?j a uuuiraci wun such well known publishers as Messrs. Putnam & Co. they would be deceived?that they would break faith with their patrons, that after having insidiously found its way by virtue of its literary merits, into the homes and family circles of thousands at the South, they would convert their magazine, with unblushing effrontery too, into a vehicle for the dissemination of as rank anti-slavery declamation as ever Greeley or Parker indulged in, though perhaps in more polite diction. The whole article from beginning to end is Whig-Abolition in tono, sentiment, and spirit. Its evident intent is to propagate freesoilism. The devices it exhorts its readers, "as Americans, as freemen and as Christians," to inscribe in their banner, are those of a disorganizer, an ibolitionist and an ultra radical.. Read, them, ind say !f this be not true; and yet to-day in Southern homes?thousands of them?will be bund, under these pretty green covers, done ip in beautiful typography, this wanton assault aid no less gross insult to the Southern pcoile, served up iu this "Magazine of Literature, Science and Art." Are the Southern people so dull?so stupid rill we say?as not to perceive wherein is the ernedy for all this wrong doing? For years it as been rung into their ears; "but so far it has, " assed by as the idle wind, unheeded and.discarded. It is to support their own periodi- \ Us. Until they do. this, there is no hope.? he literary appetite must be appeased; and if 1 holesome-food be not provided, Harper with ?:"Union-Saving" and Putnam with its "Our arties and Politics" poisonous mixtures will 1 3 administered and takenr. Tho history of Southern periodical literature fords melancholy evidences of the truth of-' hat we say. One after another have they ^ irung up, wilted and' perished.' l)o not say I ey were undeserving of support; for of this v one can judge until a fair trial be had, and 8 fair trial can never' be had without a first r nerous effort .Vitality, energy and ability n, only be infused into this class of publica- ^ ?ris by money, and this has ever been with" Id from the literary enterprises of the South. ) make them worthy of support,'- they must si be supported. Money gives confidence, '' )cures talent, and supplies ail defects^jjSffl. We will cite only one instancoontof mifiy. ? e allude to the Southern Quarterly Review \ publication containing as able articles as , f ofits class published in the country. But ' ias languished and languished, and would bably have succumbed, had it not been for JL( indomitable energy of its present proprie. This Review stands at th6 head of South- u' literature?its articles are quoted and com- cc uted on, not only in America, but in Eu ' e, and yet its means of existence have been nty and doled out in a niggardly spirit. ' It Jj? shame, a crying shame, upon the literary ;"! e of our people that these things should be; ? J it is stiil a greater reproach on their palri e ra and boasted devotion to the interests and spendence of their own section. Half the >ont now literally poured into the coflera ql jh?' -Southern magazine publishers would gtVe | t"c issured vitality not only to thiB Rtfolettj but iany, others'. Can any of ojir, readers con- ' itiously eay that; we apeak.fo waggerated be, 19 of their short ifcmingsL If they a re'con* tioi eri of their error in1 this regae^, .half the* 'fan . WV#>y\- V . /'V ..." rji-.':,i:* <5 Streak < r-j?iore?or legsjhan the waters of the-xiver Ania?;^ < : zon."... rsow.jL calculate the waters dttJie'MjHjgH ;j cibti>n are pot .mar^than one quarter the yolgtag^ .fW Crulf. Stredpi.. The.piece, then states IthftT,*Tuthe: waters".of the .Amazon-are ver^r; ' tT warm, fhr more so ^han. tlie waters , of tha^At^ Jamie .under the Equator." . It this ts ^ proof that the-latter dre not much^w^.e/'|j . than waters in other :porti.qiis..of. . .even in the temperate zone*. .?'. | that''the^grcat body "of "M , .Amazon shoots out into the""Atfantic'mo^Knl^y^ t 100 tjnles in the face of the: ? ,\vinds.:r , Pushing itself sohjdr into the ' of these winds, I fancy is a/mistake.; The Am^ | ozon flows from about S. W.-to. N..,E , the current of heated. Atlantic^.fca feraljjnflwiffi [ or on the equator trd'm.Africa to^ulOSfiSfc~HlS I iea, caused by, "the.eternal trad^focls?j the conformation of the N. - E. shore of SdSft^^"' v America forced Loflow from S. E; tO..>N^jy^ ?. J so that this currenUand that of the zon are at nearly right angles^ ^ut^ESwjEH^v. | he wrong in this, it would-be all tW-W.^^^^HH| , his "opinion," for the piece ?hdd?,<'*Tbe(A^^^ffl^PJ is GO miles wide; after being belted f resistible course, it curves off to. . scuds oft" before the strong trade windS^fiffiSj^^^^H of their reach.""':JSow, it is, -strange" he.cquldV" . have finished-such a sentence and not discfiygr^' ( that it completely upsets his "opinidnsg^^^^V ^ ! causes the "irresistiblecourse of the"Aroww^p"".'^: , to curve off," dec. ?"Surely nothing less tSuti?$5^. , power superior to Us" own ra i i? h t v .currin But he answers co rr e c 11 v>. n d *emDh^ifc|imjft^B^r:i-^ . saying, it "scuds oif"before the; . winds.' But are these winds the orifai'yiKfBffi < ' , of this "curving and scudding?" " Is it\nb^^^Kaj. .y dent that it has encountered a powerfu? Ajdar?^ * tic current. Is it probable these "strongtra<%S^fef? winds" should constantly blow entirely '^roSj^BgSle, the Atlantic from N. E. and, S. E.,"conbep^^H i , ting on the equator, and vet prbduce no.^CTKjB ; , rent; while the mighty "course of the IS made to "curve off and scud before Is it not clear that ,the ''cause of,.the. Stream" is not the Amazon, (though that , assist) but that the ''eternal t^de.wm^s^rc^,^ The Life-time of Man. ^ ' When the world was created,, and-, creatures assembled to have their. pointed.the Ass first advanced and asked ' long he would i>aVe to live." V; ' Thirty years,5' replied Nature;,J'wtll^ -J r i.i n*. , J r- 5,,-. "Alas !" answered-the ,As?, -,'titri^a vfofijg!* 4 while.-- Remember what a wearisome exist, % ence will be mine; from morning,-until,;mghfc^^ I shall have to bear heavy burdens, -(dragging^*' corn sacks to the mill that others may bread, while I shall have no encparag^mefif nor be refreshed by..anythiog-. but^blo^s arid kicks. Give me but a portion of that time^^i. pray." - Nature, moved with com passion, and ted hut eighteen yearg,,-. /The. comforted,.and the Dog came .forward.;^ X>rj. jpHE ,3 "How long .dost. thou-.requiro. to live,i!?|^ asked nature., "Thirty years, w.ere tc^-nftny'*^^ for the Ass .but wilt.thou be .contented ! them : ."ls .it thy will .that L should 1"^replfed^^?ipP^. '? Dog. "Thipk how mjich I shall havn.tn->nin3&W: - about; my feet will not last so long- b-tinVe; and when I shall have, my voice and my teeth for biting, - what else fit for but to lie in thepopier and-gtywlf"^ Nature .thought ho. was Tight>Xo.<t^gaVe!.^#i^^i' twelve years. The Ape then appeared. "Thou wiltdonbt^afty '"i less willingly 1 ive.thirtfc yeftrs^^^d^nafam^g "thou wilt not have, to-labor asdJie.-Ass ao(^h^K"tB?!Jgjffi Dog. Lifo^will be;pleasant td'thi**,' r "Ah, nocried Ije; ..".so it pay. .seequ^^V others, l>ut so it wilh-uot bed ShoiJd^(jud^tS# r dings ever quo .-dqyvn,;Ijshaljf exote^laughte^-.* - -g by my. grimaces, and^tbeh.be. reyAr.ded^ith^^^- *f < sour apple. Ho\yvofte.n-sdrro,wvlie8^con<?al^^%^ behind a jest!. I shall not ho*ablc.to* endurjea^^ }\ for thirty years-" n v Nature was gracious, and he received.but tenJV ; ' At last came,Man, healthy, and 8trong^d|w tsked the measure of his days,. "Will thirty.years- ^ntent-)h^jj^ t' fflfr'-- " 4iuw snort. a tune i.o.xctqintqd" Svbert I shall have builttuy'house and \ y fire on my, hearth?when .the tlanted are about to bloom and.,.bear 'fnUtaSr^* vhervlife.shall seem.tp me m os tdesi rabl ball tiie. Ob, Nature, grant,me.a longervpe- : iotl.!" ... ~:,r\ > - r .**, +?* "Thou shall Ji.avq.the eighteen^ yeai^ofit^^';* ' Lss besides.'.' ,* J&vji&Stt "That is not enough," replied^M^n.^ "Take likewise the twelve,years oCtjteiOqg^ "It is .not ye?; sulfioien^^Uroteit'- M.aifc>te? give me irs cheerfully, and he eighteen of the Ass come next. Burden )on burden is heaped upon him be carries the irn that is to feed others blowiand kicks are e rewards of his faithful service. The twelve the Dog follow, and he loses bis teeth, and s down and growls. When tliese arfe gone s _Ape,s ten years of sorrow, conqealbd behind jest are added. Then Man weak and sitf^ comds.lte,sport of children. . - .IV;ij&i . No proof of Temperance?a man. .with hie t off at midnight, explaining U> a lam^ppet i political principles of Me party. Hie forms and ceremonies ofpolttenSfli ro?y. dispensed with in a measure, ^ its and intimacies of one's own firceide, hot d M-terffWhs .never.-' H-W*.'.'*-- fkMlBwiif II :