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Utl r go ?f? ^"? ^~\ < > ??* mm? ? ? ?MH?>?M -M> ^ --W W 1. k* M- a ,_ nPTTT? CA A \/fT^I71\T T^fcTTT>l\T/Fi ^sssam 1 II l i UAJlJJcin JUUrill A Ii. r^v.,- i - . 'injr- > rtV- >! Si '-< * VOLTlor _ CAMDEN, SOUTH CAROLINA, APRIL 25, 1849. NUMBEftlTI THE CAMDEN JOURNAL, ' ' PUBLISHED WEEKLY, BY T. W. PEGUKS. i *. ?^ :? - , SOAR HIGH ! SOAR HIGH! ? ? i r* J ' t? a.. Soar Ingli ; soar nign nor rear u> ny? Think not ultoul lite Tailing? Slay not lo shrink upon the brink Of high or holy calling, Bui.'tx ing right, with all ihy might Go 011?itii! cloud* of eoirow, ', That here lo day obscure thy u ay, May all lie gone tomorrow. The world may sneer, nnd laugh and jeer, Yet stay not for repining ; Alike for all, the great and small, Creation's light is shining. Take heart of oak. there ia no stiokc Mali strikes, hut wl.al tuny aid liitii ; For, if the deed from good proceed, Say what on earth slmll shade him ? fa",/ 9- As every j??y wo iincmplny ? -? ?titc mrfietiru So every girt we caul adrift la a ni'MU wasted treasure. And it <miy be, perchance, if wo Slmutil once aliko refuse litem, We may in vain strive to regain The slightest power to use tlicni. Ot as, tt ?f ; Soar h:g!i! wwr high ! nor fiat to fly? Tliitik not altoul the Idling? i There is a power in every 11< >r To help us in our colling ; If only more we would adore, , And seek its rn glily aiding; i;i, JS'or rack our brains, and take sticii p.iina To search for U<mgs so fading. *V ' l kallykia. r. ST W. L. 8I10BMXKKR. O. for a verse that might express Thy most exceeding loveliness ! <>, for a lyre of wondrous might, To which to sing thy praise aright ! An angel's harp alone could be, r i .1. i.. . < 01 sucn nici'Hij ; v. Only tlio *?eel voiced Israf.l "Die magic of lliy looks ni >y tell. Thou art in every grace complete, T!>eri sweetest flowers of earth most sweet ; Put hker those that blown in heaven, Ami for a pacing marvel gircn. V' > N?? more : my words aro all too weak Of tltcc in filling phrase to speak ; Hut what thou art my lieart can feci, Yet, never can my heart reveal. > LOVE.?A SONG. Oh, what is love? A nngic light. That fall* ?pon the human heart. Like moon beams on the h cast of night, Out not like moon beam* to depart. Oh what i* love? A cankering en c, When Mis in expectation cross'd ? The gloomy night-full of despair ? Lififa choicest pleasure wrcck'd and lost. if aO'i, what is hvee ? Oh, what is love ? When hwing keirte together join, A bliss, much like the bliss above? A union, sacred .nd divine. iri II I I I Frwa the Nonpariel. THE GUERILLA FORAY, AX IXC1DEXT OP THE MEXICAN WAR. The triotiilav stiri was srn<iiti? down Irs burning rays, as a p.viy of thirty men r <do mil of the "G.irriiia dc llclan,"* ami galloped rapidly along I lie causway leading in lite village ?>f San Angel. Tliev were dressed in the uniform of mounted riflemen, and were mounted on full blooded American horses. They wee evidently upon "pass/" as no officer was with litem, and bound upon some jolly excursion into the country. Tltey had reached the cross r?nd leading from the town of Tacubnva to f'enyan, when a single horseman was observed advancing rapidly toward* litem rum the Penyan side. Ins form opra sed in Ins stirrups, and his whole demeanor betokening extreme haste. "I say. Abe. that fellow is making for us. Something has happened, and lie wan s our assistance,** said one of the parly, tapping a young man of twenty three on the shoulder. 44What say you?" The person addressed as Abe took a long look at the horseman, and then replied ? 44If that isn't old Ricardo, 1 am very much mistaken. "Wh it the old Spaniard who owns the large hacienda near San Antonio, and who has such a pretty daughter?" asked the oilier. AL U..# ??? <?!/! mon lumnns ~ I III: 9c?iiin, UUl IIIC "l?l 111*111 mi.w,!,-. to us to meet hirn?let us go." Ami pulling spurs to his horse, he bounded swiftly forward to meet him. ' Let's after hirn. boys, and if there's any filn on hand, we'll have a share in it," shouted the other; and the whole party dasher! after hirn. In a few moments they were along side the old man. and having reined in their steeds, Abbott said? "What's the.matler Ricardo? Is any thing wrong?" "Senors Americanos? my child; my dangler!" replied the old man, in tones of anguish. "What of her? Speak?tell mer exclaimed IKkntl witli otarllimr nnnrnv mirl Ins eyes fljshed as lie grasped the Spaniard's arm. "Ventell the guerrilla!" gasped the old man in reply. "He has not dared?" began the fiery youth, hut he was cut short by the old man, who said? "He has robbed my house and carried off my child. Oh! it you are men fly to her rescue!" "When was it done?" exclaimed half a dozen voices, and all eyes were eagerly bent upon Ricardo, as he replied? "Not two hours since: they can be easiiv overtaken." "How many were they!" demanded Abbott. "One hundred in number!" and the S| aniard gazed with a dispairing look on the little party before him. "Hoys,"said Abbott, in a firm tone, "who if you will go with me? For myself, 1 will rescue her or die in the attempt!" "I?I !" was the res; .$(; every member of the little band, as they caught the daring spirit of Abbott. "Then lead on, old man, and ere the sun sets your child shall be restored to your arms." The Spaniard needed no second bidding, but wheeling his snorbnL' rharger, lie huried his spurs in his flanks, and the gallant steed bore h m swiftly onward. Over the Cross i? i- oJ.. A _ .i a road loaning mil /viimino nicy now -mi mv-u errand of merry. Down the giant causeway of Antonio, and over the fatal bridge of Churubusvo ihcy went, and the spires of San Augustine glittered in the distanc*; but no f<>e was to l>e seen, The old man rode before, hiagray lochs streaming in the wind, and his dark eye fixed with an eagle glance before him, scnmiing'Uic wide plain and the rock b( und sides of the Coiilreras. Suddenly raising his long bonv nrm, he pointed far on before him to where the road ascended the mountain height of Chniaciim, and shouted? "There they are. Forwar I, forward!" A suppressed yell hurst frotn twenty lips, and as many hands sought their sabre hilts, and loosened the shilling blades in llieir scabbards while a stern resolve rested upon the flushed and heated brow of each. Across the outskirts ofSau Augustine, and own by the placid lake of Chonloo they spied, and the next moment they were i minting the rugged heights ol Clmlaciim. - - -< i .1 .1 :i 1711 llie lop inny pause, ami umm in im; vni beyond, noi over a ball a mile ofl* ibev dis c??verthe rohhers ridirg slowlv along, uncoilD C scions of pursuit. Fall back, Iticardo, and leave the work to us," said Abbott, addressing the Spaniard. XeveiF bur t from the pallid lips of the father. ' JJut you are unused to scenes of strife; you might fall,and then what would become of your daughter?'' "No more," snid the old tnari. 'If a parent strikes u i for his child, who will/" The enemy now discovered the approaeh of the little party, and began to hasten their speed; but as lite uirge horses of the Americans rapidly outstripped the mustangs, it became evident that a few minutes would end the race. Finding the escape impossible, the guerillas wheeled about, ami hastily f ruling a line, came t!:undcriug on to meet I hem. - -i I ii bi\n\v troys, ?fi iiicm navo a g >o<i voiicy from the rifles, and then throw litem down and trust to the snhre and pistol f?r the victory. Forward, and God defend the right!" A deafening yell hurst from the little hand as Abbott concluded, and unslinging their rifles, they poured in a murderous fire as ihev closed with the encinv which brought many a stalwart foe to the earth, and, drawing the glittering blade fought for victory or death. Terrible, indeed, was thai bloody encounter, but it was not of long duration. A dozen of the guerdlas sank before the first land fire and as they closed in hand to hand s'niggle,the tali steeds of the Americans train, pled down the lighter ncs of the the foenien and the deadly revolver took with powerful effect upon the cowardly rubbers. One after another ihev fled f.oin the (it-Id. and ere half an hour had passed, the remnant of the small baud remained its masters. 'Ten bad fallen in the strife, and lay commingled with the bones of forty bandits upon the gory sod. But where was K card??? Kneeling btsde yuu rock, w.lh i is pale and haggard face upturned to heaven, with the blood oozing from a deep wound in his breast, he is bend, tug over the lifeless form of his daughter. From a bullet lede in her Miow-white forehead the tide of life has chbcd away, and her lovely locks are dabbled in her own life's blood, now mingled with that of her lather. Standing beside Itim, with his foot re>liog upon the body of Vented, the guerilla chief, is Abbott, ilis haggard brow is furrowed wall lilies of heartfelt anguish, and his manly heart is beating with sympathy for the bereaved parent. Around them, but a respectful instance, stand gathered the survivors of that I tal conflict, and the stalwart band brushed the tear of sympathy from the eve, ami they turned, to hide llie emotions i)f swelling hearts. The old man motioned Abbott t?? draw near. In an instant the youth was at his side, and dropping upon one knee, he supported the sinking form of Iticardo in his arms. 'See that we are buried," whispered the Spaniard to the youth, "and may God reward you for your endeavors in my behalf. My child I come!' and, fixing his eyes upon the clou lles.s sky he sank slowly back and expired. They dug a rude gi avu beside the murmuring waters i f Lake Othnllo, and buried the ripple of the gentle waters sung a requiem to (lie memory of the departed. They loll huncntli the iron hand ol the demon of strife, and perished by violence before the swords of the foe. Goodness and love were forgotten in ilie relentless passions of the mind, racked and tossed by the vicissi. tudes of war, and innocence and beauty were sacrificed upon the blood stained car of dissension. CATCHING A WEASEL ASLEEP. An individual, as well known around ??? as tho guide-board at the cross-road, your A B C's at school, or the church steeple, once toted into the village inn on one of his customary horse trading errands. Old C. was a "hoiss," if not u "half.aligator," in all kind of matters having the. slighest affinity to horsc.flesh. He eould see through a heart as well as you can through tho bars of a gridiron. " Venividi O Ilia mnftr? on/I lia rlur?id?)d lll?t fll nilil^iv '""""I ?*"?? "V ? J? - 1 J as a wink could he made, or the fire from the lime-stone some where scorched a feather. lie never would allow the chance of a trade to slip through his fingers like a greased pig; hut would jump at one as readily as a trout will at a fly. 1 solemnly aver that had he, by some providence or other, happened to live in the days of Alexander, he would have attempted to "cum it over" that great "b'hoy," and swopped him a miserable creature lor his Bucephalus? dUlo, had it been his fortune to fall in with Don Quixote, ten to one, he would have "struck a trade" with the valiant knight, and obtained the far-lamed Krasimante as an equivalent for i some "bishopcd" afTair. Ill fine, reader, C's lame was as renowed as his white neckcloth, a la parson, nnd other clerical eccentricities, \ wore well known for miles around Very well: C.?we were saying?once toted into the village tavern. A stranger, at his ap- | pearance, might have mistaken him for n fallen I deacon, or an itinerant temperance lecturer, I hoarding the "crater" in it's den: he looked a i little like both, ohiy more like the firmer than . t'other, by reason of a well dyed nose, and other marks which king 'cohol is apt to leave, | as mementoes of his favor, upon the features of < his proselytes. ( Who wants to trade to day?" he exclaimed, j emptying the tumbler of "sling" which the i attentive H on i face knew was tie regie with C., i and had consequently concocted on his en- I trance. "Got an all-fired putty hoss tow hum." < U- fr.i.n 'Hill alirl: !)< a I1PW utT twiiUHuni, in "... ? ... ? dollar?smari us young Ifghtnin'after a .>>|.aiikin'?and will trot it like u bullgine down a i greased sun-stroke." "Considerable kind a critler, 1 should ex pert," remarked one of the would lie-blonds of | the village, calmly whiffing his long nine, nnd a smile of incredulity creeping quietly over his i sharp wag-like countenance. ' He's nothin' el?e, Sam," assured the old I man, seating himself beside the "young tin," and producing a j ick knife which had assisted | him in the perfection of scores of trad-s. I ' Well, uncle (J.," drawled out Sam, "seein" s you're sniter anxious to trade, "sposin' we talk il over a leetle; fur I've got a how I jest got, I should like mighty well to swop off"." I "That's the talk, Sam," exclaimed C., ruh- < bing hi> hands with delight, lor he was about ' uluiiging in his den ent. "What sort of a critter is lie, Sam?" ? ' Nothin' veiy alarming, I guess, uncle C-; ' but sound as a dime, 'though." i "Considerable old, I reckon," say* uncle C. r "Not very, and what inoiight be yourn's age. uncle C.?"" "Four, coinin' five next grass. Sam. An ad- ( killing'fine colt, Sam. elf I say it." f "l ain't seen him, uncle C.f and yon ain't r seen mine, as I know on : now let's do the thing up in short metre. What d' ye say to swoppiu'without seeing uncle?" I "Dnii'i (-am a lioe-cake. Sum?soon trade blind.folded as nut?no use my liein* with eyes wide open, 'kn.M> you'd cheat tne of my eyeteeth ell so be I had all the specs in creation to help me." "Sho! uncle CM you're p king fun into me, when you say that?me, green us thunder, think to take advantage oiijuu!" And he laughed ul the idek. "Well, Sam. that's for talk's sake. Shall we leave it out to judges, Sam?" "Jest as you mind to have it, uncle C." "Who d' ye take, Sam??I take Seth, cause 1 Selh's honorable," and he called up a tricky ' looking soap-lock, who was known as uncle f C.'s standing referee. ' "Wall, Jake," and Sam winked to a roguish ' fellow, and whispered a word or two in his 1 ear. t The referees choose the third judge, a very s simple minded individual: and all were about $ leaving for the respective domiciles of the tra y ilers, where the horses were said to be, when ; Jake remarked : I "I s'pose we've got to bring in our award, , wliatsmnever's the bosses we're going to see." ( "Sartin, Jake, surtin," simultaneously replied , the two jockeys. j The trio were absent about twenty minutes, j and stated that the result of their "chatirig" was that Sam should pay uncle G. fifteen dol- ' lars to boot. The hat was held out, and both ' dropped in a cent in token of their satisfaction J with the decision. Sain produced his sheep's ' ' - - L.. ..M ! ! ><* ttn/tln I? J" ttKltl, lip U1C rillllU, lii^ aa uuwic . counted the cash: J "All right, I expect, canting?" 1 "I guss ao. Sam," replied the venerable jockey. "Now let's go and deliver the pro- f pcrty." j An inkling of the probable result of the f affair had got rumored about the room, and ? the spectators followed the traders to enjoy the * finale. "Let's go to my place first," said Sam, and thither they went, whilst uncle C. directed , Seth to run to his stable and lead out his boss. * The party arrived at Sam's house. He led 1 litem to his yard, and pointing to a very useful domestic contrivance, known as a saic-fwrsc, t said? < "There's the lioss, uncle C." | i "Ilo?-s be d J!" roared uncle C. ' : Then turning to Seth, who was approaching , i with a pretty decent animal in the lead, he ] cried: , "You tarnal fool, you.' din n't you know'nuff* j to tell me on this afore I cum here?" y "I thought 'l was 'gree i you should trade, no i rriaUer what kind of a hoss 'l was," doggedly replied the fellow. "And my colt's worth thirty-five dollars; so I you 'vc bro'l in this consarned saw.hoss worth twenty, eh? y<?u mitral fool!" And undo C. : fairly shook with rage. 4,I baulked on that, capting," observed Seth, ' in self justification; but that 'nr tonguey cuss < Jako, iliar, talked into old Bill, (the third judge,) ' as how a saw-hoss was equal to a twenty dollar bill, and so I was overruled." I ' Consarn the critters," growled uncle C.; ( "wall, it ran 't be helped, San;; you 've got I into mo lair this time; but wo n't you let me < off. though?" * "Elf you 'II stand treat all round, uncle?jest | to obleage you," quickly answered the mischie. , vous wag. Uncle C. did treat all around, and does it again when reminded of the trade. t A Member for Like.?The N. Y. Day , Book, a very readable paper by the way, must , be held responsible for the following capital ^ story; A young gentleman who was more (ond of ladies' society than good sermons, invited a daughter of one of our millionaires to attend t -L ? L ?M- UL- " ? a ?ni?.nnn Kn a rlia. I cum it u wiiii mm in ni-ai n bui u u.a- | tinguished divine of the orthodox Iftith. It so l happened that the eloquent preacher preached | that afternoon what is culled a charity sermon; i and our young gentlemen not having 'come pre- III pared' fur such an occurrence, called upon his \v fair companion for a loan of ihe wherewith to respond to the contribution box.' or " Have you any money! said he to the miss, ta 'and if so will yon lend me a trifle ?' jlfl * I hare a bill,' said the lady, offering him a l() bank note, which he suddenly took and drop- ^ pod into the plate. The next day he called <r^ upon his fair creditor to pay up. T "How large a bill was that you gave me yesterday? snid he. as he drew a one dollar s'' note Irom his wallet. " Fifty dollars' was the reply. P" " Mr. [I 's hands fell upon his lap, and Mi for about three minutes, he looked steadily into vc ihe ladie's face without uttering a word. At be length, he gave a long, low whistle?rose s<> dowlv from his seat?bid the lady good night la! ?said he would call again?and left for home. m< Now fifty dollars to Mr. H- was no ti. ling sum for he was only a cleik' on a small nr< alary, but he 'scratched round,' iaiyn the money and paid it over. That wiu^lhe fast con- wj irihntinn he ha* ever made to affy charitable 1j iind, and as for charity sermons they are liis ibhorrancc. Hp considers himself a 'life inem- j l?er' of every Imncvolcnt institution in the country. "Did you receive my remittance, Nathan, m< rov son?" *)C *4 Yes, father." an 4 Then why did thee not hoy a new coat?? thy present one is very fragile." "Why?the fart is?that I left all my money ish :n the bank at New Orleans." t'? "Alt! thy economy is certainly coinmenda. a I ble?in what hank!" stc "I do n't exactly remember what hank, li'her?I know it was a very good one, as it ? :iad n Scriptural name, it was?um! let me ice? :t was the Plinmah hank, I think." A Mighty Covstitutiox.?" Hirnm, my my," said a tender father to his son, "you mist be more careful of yourself than you are. j If on have not the constitution ol some. "Do n't b'lieve it, dad?don't li'lievea word ui't?I 'vc got the constitution of a horse. (Jj There aint no break-up or down on me. Dang (|u t, if I do n't h'lieve I've got the Constitution ,jl( if the United States !" (ls IjC JCj* All apprehensions of a floral at New ^ ")rlcati? have subsided?the waters in the dif* j ercnt tributaries of the .Mississippi.were falling apidly. Pa It ha? !>een suggested that the best board of no lealth in the world is the wash-board. "7 _ his From the Temperance Advocate. WC A MODE OF IMPROVING LAND lor # WITH IMMEDI ATE PROFIT. fa| Mr. Editor?In my last article upon this er opic. 1 promised to write to you again. In ulfilling the promise, I will premise by say- cu ng that the plan, which lam now recom- pr< lteudmg is one generally, indeed I may say S1)| tlmosl universally, adopted in the low conn- ihi ry of our Stale. It is as follows: The planer, who knows the value of the Potato, en- c'a mdeavors to plant what is called the root die rop as early in March as the stale of the cu icason will admit. This may he done nine asl seasons out of ten with safety, if it be done ns villi care. 1 have finished all my root crop ' ilready, and finished a fortnight ago. 1 nit ook about six acres of the best field of high ipland 1 have, and hauled out upon it ma- a,)l lure from a pile made up of stable and barn the rard litter?a sufficiency to manure the but- tv, .oin of the potato bed well. After spread- art ng it nloti<; each bed, I threw up willt the ani )low the beds (i; on the manure and planted "l ' he rut potato. If now this patch i- well at- on ended to and kept clear of the grass I shall '}' >e altle to cut vines from it f r planting the as >lip crop as early as about the first of June 13,1 union until the lirsl of July, accordingly as 'he ,ve shall have showers of rain. From this patch also, I shall he able to lig eating potatoes about the first of August, a''l f not sooner. Suppose then a planter should V0111 any unavoidable cause get out of corn 1 U that time, you will perceive that nothing 13 >n his premises will suffer want. But 1 am distressing from mv main object J'J-' .vliielt was to state hoio and whin to plant . 1 ms he soil while it is Yielding an immediate . * 0 (,e' . pin While these root potatoes are coming on J nid will in dnc season yield llio vinos, I am [J"' unbracing every rainy day and other eon- ; renicnt opportunities to fill up my stables i ind barn-yard with trash and litter, upon , ivliieb tlie cattle are penned every night, j Pur you aware ol'course that all of the ma- SU( iurc which was made during the winter ( s already out and in the ground, with the as . annus crops which arc manured. This resh accumulation of litter is to make more nanurc which can be rendered available and nofilab e this vrry season, and in the follow- ( ng manner:?Early in May next, if we (ju should have a shower of rain, let all this litor with whatever may be got out the sta- (j0 >!e, be put into a heap to ferment and rot. l(J ind if the planter pleases he make during his and the next month any amount of ' Rnmmer manure. About the middle or lat:er part of May the manure can be hauled yy iut and spread along the alleys of old corn yy i)e Is, or if you plant where there are no yu uich old alleys, it may be put over furrows, y very lightly marked off by a good ploughnan, fjotn four feet to four feet six inches j, j lpart. SC( Then let tins manure, which cannot be too jy], .hick ly spread, if you have enough, be coverjd by the plough with two furrows on each bo tide, allowing a space under the manure, tei which is to be the base of the bed and ^ which should not be broken, of about eigh- gn leen inches more or less. tlx This will furnish you with a very good bed all ill ready prepared for the vines the first re: shower that falls. With the ground thus an prepared, you may plant the vines with ar< much less rain than if the land is left to be ca prepared after the rain comes. In the one po case the ground is moistened easily whilst in w; e other you will often turn up dry earth ill) a plough, even after a hard rain. Bv preparit g beforehand, you are not ily more certain that the slips will live and ke, but you can plant much more to the ind. When everything is thus prepared o hands will plant a half acre a day, culig their vines and laying them three to>ther along on the beds and covering them, living out eyes, as they are termed, in short aces. This they do by digging earth out of e alleys, and putting about four to five od large hoes full upon the vines a'ong e beds leaving short spaces ol the plant ry early, one single hauling up of these ds in about a fortnight afterwards will be ficient fo make an ample return for your >or. But there are very few cases where ire than two working are needed. Now. sir, I may ventuic to say that there c but few things which will produce more an the potato slip in the same land and th so little cultivation, in addition to is the work is mostly done after if becomes tirelv loo late to plant anything else, and rdly an v other crop could he so much benced by manure made so late. Here we have a vast amount of manure ide and applied to the land when it would entirely too late for most anything else, d yet we can look with a tolerable degree certainty for a very abundant harvest. Tliis is not all, but as my paper admonles me to slop. I will endeavor in may next show more fully the value of this crop as fertilizer of the land and as a food for >ek. Yours, &c., Ilcco. From the Columbia Telegraph. 3MPAKATIVE PROSPERITY OF THE NORTH AND SOUTH. We alluded some days since to the reirkabic results obtained by Mr. Fisher of ncmnati, from a comparative estimate of 3 production, population, and prosperity of 3 different sections, drawn from the sialics of the respective Slates. We apiid to day a portion only of these proofs lich must work conviction on the minds of >sc hitherto the most despondent and desiring as to our actual position. As the calculations of a Northern mem, suspicion of unfairness can attach to them lor tie is apparently one wno, n ne mves i own section much, loves truth and fair aling ycl more. It is high time for the Southern mind to disabused of the great error which has ' :ighed down upon it like a night mare so 1 i?*. ' After alluding to the universality of the se impression North and South, Mr. Ftsli* j thus bieaks the bubble: " The first object of civilized life is to acrnulate wealth, as on that depends im- , jveinent in science and the arts, and the aply of the multiplied wants of society in j it state* "And hence it is that the South is de red to be lulling behind the civilization of ! i age, and is advised to abandon her Dollar institution in o;der to avoid the dis- ' rous condition of ignorance and barbain that awaits her. " Now in an age like (his, of pre-eminent elligence, with the sehoolmuslers al! ' road?with universal diffusion of the press ' J the post, and on a question like this, of 1 : first magnitude, and the least complexi- j and whilst the people of the two sections ( 5 continually travelling among each other, il engaged in discussion witlj one another j stages and steamboats, in cars, in hotels, the stump, and in Congress?il is scarce 1 credible that a universal mistake prevails ' to the facts. Yet in opposition to the ex- ' ng opinion on the subject, I maintain that ( : South is greatly the superior of the ' irth in wealth, in proportion to the num? rof cilixens respectively; mid tliis will < pear by a comparison and progress of the ! nte people of the respective sections;? 1 ie North, and even many in the South, I vo assumed a decline in manufactures ! i] commerce, to be a decline of general jsperity. This is an error. The policy ' a Federal Government, and the douustic 1 titutions of the Southern States, have in- ' j(l been unfavorable to the latt< r in those t rsuits, but in the agriculture of the South ' j iiiauiiained and advanced in prosperity ' y onil that of any other people. ( " Let us first examine the condition of the 1 lite people of the two sections. i4 The Stale of Massachusetts, for instance, i generally regarded as one of the most ? :ccsslul and Hotirishing of the N-rth; and 1 : instantly referred to by the nevvspaptrs 1 a model for all the others, and very lie- ' ently as a taunt to the Southern. If, ' wever, we compare this favorite of the 1 ir'1, with Maryland, a southern Slate of ' nlar territorial extent, and of the least of I ! Southern States, we shall find the latter ' ue uccincuiy superior in weann m pmpoi 11 lo l!ie number of citizens. According i the census of 1810, Maryland bad a free pulation of 380,282 and in 1847 her pro- < rty was assessed at $202,272,(150.?Mas- i iliuselts in 1810 had a population >>f 737.- < 0, and her property now is only S300,0,000 Taking these two assessments as ; basis of comparison, and it appears that i ; average property of a (ice person in aryland was $531, whilst in Massachusetts s now, in the palmiest days it has ever :n, only $40G per head?the freeman of aryland being 25 per cent, the richer. " The state of New York and Viginia are th of great territorial extent, and not malally unequal m that respect. New York also regarded habitually, as one of the andest products of free instiluiions-?and 3 present condition of Virginia is continuy referred to, as a striking and melancholy mil of slavery. Her poverty, her ignor ce, her idleness, her decay, and her misery ? ih? ihroartltarp Ionic, nf modern nolili . ...v .......... , r _ I philosophy here and abroad. Her free piilaiion hi 1840. according to the census, as 790,810, and her property is now about $000,000,600, The population in Kew York in 1840 was 2.528,02J, awl in 1847 her property was assessed at $632,600^88. The average property of a free white pel* son in Virginia is $750 ; in New York it is only $260, or a {ittie more than one third. " Virginia, instead of being poor and in need of tlte pity of the much poorer population or the North, is perhaps the richest community in the worlds The average wealth of ihe people of Great Britain may he abjtit ihe same, hot it is not near an pr?>ductive, and I think it demonstfttbfo that no people on earth live in a condition ofgrtfWer comfort and enjoyment than those of Virginia. Nor is there any reason to fear ?decl.nc in her wealth. Accotding to the census returns of 1840, Virginia, with a*populatum of limn nnp.third nf llmf nt Now York, and a rapitol something less, produced from the various branches of her industry more than half the product of New York; and a?tlie total population of Virginia,slave arid In c, is only about half that of New Yoik, it is clear, that deducting the annual consumption of both, Virginia will have a larger proportional surp'us remaining to augment the stock ol her permanent prop. ertw I * IF now we examine the relative condition of the new States, the same results ts apparent. The Stales of Kentucky and Ohio lie side bv side, and are of similar clt mate, fertility and extent?the proportion of rich Innd being, however, less in Kentucky. Their age also being nearly the same, Kentucky having been admitted asa State about eleven years before Ohio. Ohio is consid- , ered the most prosperous State in the West, and is continually contrasted with Kentucky for the purpose of illustrating the blighting effects of slavery on the latter. J?ettis sec with what reason. '* In 1840, Kentucky had a free population of 597,570. and her property amounts according to her tax assessment of 1848, to about 272,847,696. Ohio, in 1840, bad a population of 1,519,457, and her inenmant last year was 521,067,981. The average value of property belonging to each fir? person in Kentucky is 8456; in Ohio is only $276, or more than one-third less; and asfhu population of Ohio i9 now still greater in proportion to that of Kentucky than m 1840, the dilferance in favor of the latter is still more. " Nothing is more common than the opinion that the price of land in Kentucky is, in consequence of slaver)*, much lower than in Ohio. I have examined the Auditor** reports of both States, which p.-eaeolia rtetfil ihe valuation of all their lands. In Kenlucky the average value is about seven dollars per acre?in Ohio, it is about eleven ; and I am very confident that the quality of Ohio land is to that extent superior; ? in Kentucky there is a large mountain region for winch Ohio has nothing equhrdkmtThus, then, it is manifest that the liree people of the slaveholding slate*; o!" rhoae States which are uniformly regarded ma the victim of poverty and ruin; are all tidier* much richer, than tlvwe of the noit-aHaveholding States which have been Usoatfjr considered as the innst flourishing members of ihis confederacy, and the most prdepernas communities the world ever saw, Soch at least is the testimony of official document* in the suhj xt; the highest auth??rity that exists. For 1 have taken nearly tU these statements ??f the property ofthqaeverid States alluded to, from the assessmentsaaade* djfe s hv public officers, for the collection of Of the accuracy of the valuations^ course impossible to speak from pogyoaMy' knowledge; but those of Ohio andftpBy lucky are according to tny opportuasiea of >bservation. as nearly correct as need be lesired. And as to the other Stales, the '.hance* of error are perhaps as great mi one side as the other, "'4 " In the slaveliolding States, slave* are or :ourse included in the property, This i* sometimes objected to, but I think without eason. The question is which is the most arofimble investment o| capital 5 in Und and slaves; as is usual m the slaveholding States ?or in land alone, or commerce andmauu. acturcs, as in the Northern Stales f Awl his question is alin ?st Universally d 'tided in avor ot 1 lie latter. In the South, according o its laws, the slave is as available to hut iwncr Ibr the purposes of property, as any jiher property. The North lias iieid. how;vcr, that this peculiar species of property. nstcad of being profitable to the owner, l is !>een impoverished and ruinous. And n contradiction to litis, I have shown that in jvery community where it exists, their wealth abounds to a far greater extent than n the Slates from which it is excluded, whatever may be their climate, soil, or territory. Bui even if the assessed value of all he slaves in Kentucky. Virginia and Maryand. were left out of the schedule of their property, the white people of th??se States would remain wealthier, on an average, than those of Ohio, New York, and Massachu. ?etts. " By others again it is contended; that in estimating the average wealth of individuals a community, the slaves ought to be included as persons and left out as property. This, I think, is also an error, for the reason before stated Where it is contended that the white man ought to abandon slave property because it makes hun poor, or prevents him from gelling rich, it is absurd to assert that he not only lias no property io his slave, but that other property Itching* equally to him. But if for any other por? pose or view of political economy, the stave be included With the freeman in averagUM? the property of a Slate, it will even thon appear that in the Siaies 1 have considered i he Southern are si ill weaihier than tb? Northern, counting the slaves as persons, and deducting them from the property. 80 that in no aspect of the question whatever, is there any foundation in fact for the popular delusion. that the Southern Siatc^or any of them, arc either now or hoaren&r,' or likely to be hereafter, inferior to their Northern neighbors in wealth?but the reverse.*