Camden commercial courier. (Camden, S.C.) 1837-1838, March 24, 1838, Image 2
PY 4C11IOBITY.
LAWS O* THE U. STATES* PASSED AT THE 1
FIRST SESSION OF THE TWENTYnr.H
CONGRESS.
o..kt:? Wa f i
A. UUIIVi v? at 1
AN ACT making appropriation? for the
' payment of the Revolutionary And oth-.
er pentioners of the United States, for1
the year one thousand eight hundred'
and thirty-eight.
Be it enacted by the Senate and fiovse
of Representatives of the United States
of America in Congress assembled* That
the following sums be, and the same are
hereby, appropriated, in addition to for- ;
mer appropriations, to be paid out of any!
money in the Treasury not otherwise appropriated,
for the pensioners of trie Uni-j
ted States, for the year one thousand I
eight hundred and thirty-eight:
For the Revolutionary pensioners, under
the several acts, other than those of
thr fifteenth of May, one thousand eight
hundred and twenty-eight; the seventh of
Juno, one thousand eight hundred and
< ..J iL. /...iL ?r T..1?
kint*j iwu. unu me iuui iii ui juij , tiucj
thousand eight hundred and thirty-six,'
four hundred and twenty-six thousand1
seven hundred and seventy-two dollars; 1
. For the invalid pensioners, under va-|
rious laws, one hundred and thirty-four I
thousand and seventy-live dollars and sixty-two
cents;
For pensions to widows and orphans,
under the act of the fourth of July, one1
thousand eight hundred and thirty-six, one
million four hundred and ninety-two thousand
six hundred and eighty-five dollars;
For half-pay pensions, payable through
the office of the Third Auditor, five thousand
dollars.
JAMES K. POLK,
Speaker of the House of Representatives i
RH. M. JOHNSON, I1
Vice President of the United States and '
President of the Senate.
Approved, March 10, 1838.
M. VAN BUREN.
i
Public.?No. 12. '
AN ACT to change the times of holding
?l. _ ? i j. . . i
iuc circuit ana aisirtct courts ot tnc
United Slates in the seventh circuit. I J
Be it enacted by the Senate and House \
of Representatives of the United States \
of America in Congress assembled, Thati
the circuit and district courts of the Uni-1
ted States shall be held in the district of!
Indiana, at the seat of Government in,
said State, on the third Mondays of May'
and Nov mber; \t the seat of Government
in the district of Illinois on the first Mondays
of June and December; in the district
of Michigan, at the scat of Govern-!
ment in said Slate, on the third Monday!
ill June and the first Monday in Movent- ['
beri and in the district of Ohio, at the!
seat of Government in said State, on thei
first Monday of July and the third Mon
day in December; and all recognizance*
entered into, and all mesne and final pro-i
cess, which have been issued, or which I
shall hereafter be issued, shall be returnable
in the respective districts to the first
term as above established: And it shall
be the duty of the circuit judge, to attend
one circuit court in each year, in the districts
of Indiana, Illinois, and Michigan, <
and should any question of law be raised,j
in any case, in the absence of the circuit j
judge, the district judge may, at hisdis-l
cretion, adjourn the cause to the succeeding
term of the circuit court.
Approved, March 10, 1838.
From the Texas Telegraph.
Memorials of 3,000 Bachelors.
To the most beautiful?the most lovely ?
the most accomplished?and lairest of
the fair; alias, 3,000 young ladies of
Boston who signed a petition to the
Congress of the United States, against
the annexation of Texas to the Union
of the N>>rih.
YOUNO Ladies?
"We. your petitioners,bachelors,residing
in the republic of Texas, deeply aware of
the important control which your sex have
over our destinies, have witnessed with
humiliation and regret your recent memorials
to the Congress of the United States,
against the annexation of Texas to your
happy Union. We are the more mortified
from the consideration, that in thus
fra ikly expressing your disapprobation of
a national union, you shuw a disposition
toaapposc a union of a more domestic nature,
by which our happiness would be
more immediately connected. Wc wili
not, however, shut out all comfort amii
consolation from our bosoms by supposing
that you cannot be persuaded to mange
your opinion, but still hope, that a proper
representation will induce you to
change the position you Inve assumed,
and adopt as a rule of action, a course
calculated to promote your own and out
felicity.
Wo would ltinn linml>l? * 11 *
- mm'hui r ii jiirsi'iil mill
have a country lur^er in extent than
the kingdcsosof France and Spain, wit. a
sky as bright, and a climate as mild as
the South of Italy; our soil is equal in
fertility to the Delta of Egypt; with an
atmosphere pure and healthful as the
mountains of Circassia. Our population
is composed of the chivalrous of all natrons.
who rallied to the standard ot the
. . j?
i \
iingl?
star 9/ tlie west, to oppose the op-11
piOAun of a semi-barbarous race, sod 1
wrest from tyranny sod oppression, the a
rsiresl portion of the hsbilsble globe.-? (
rhe battle has been fought and won: jus- ]
tire and chivalry have triumphed; and |
the god of battles has given into our hands, 1
1 country so supremely beautiful that it j
would be invaluable, could we call from ,
our father-land, that 4* last best gift of \
heaven," without which, Eden itself was j
1 desert. t
W e are here, dear objects of our afTee* <
lion, without wives: we have not one wo- ^
man to a hundred men; and it 'is this re- \
Amion which more silently embitters the |
course you have adopted towards us. We 1
arc aware that the refinements of the age <
will not allow us to adopt the precedents *
s? t by the youths of Rome, in seizing i
upon the fair daughters of their Subian I
neighbors; thai now ftmiles have attained i
their proper sphere in aociely; they are <
no longer looked upon as the slaves of
the sterner sex. but as companions, equal ,
in mind and capacity, and superior in all ,
the. milder virtues which ennoble the human
heart. It is this refl? ction which renders
your course painful in the extreme; .
but we would approach you with due reverence,
humbly throwing ourselves upon
your mercy, hoping to find your bosoms
glowing with a different sentiment, than
the one expressed in your memorial to the
congress of the United ?tates.
VVe would further add that ours is per-' i
I ?1 - ? " -
imps trie oniy country on tne lace ol the ,
globe, where a proper estimate is placed ,
upon ladies. Evn before the declaration "
of our independence; one woman was considered
equal in value to three men; for a
single tnnn teceived from the Government, i
as a settlement right, but one forth of a i
league of land; whereas if he had a wife, j,
he obtained four times that amount. And if
such is the anxiety of our government'*
officers to promote an emigration of the' t
fair from other countries with a probabili- i
ly of securing to themselves happiness inji
domestic life, (being nearly all bachelors,) j
they have granted to each lady two-thirds j,
of a league of land, (as a dower to her , 1
husband, who shall marry witlrn the next L
iwclve months. These considerations j
should prevent you from forming a hasty |
opinion against us. i]
In conclusion, if you will emigrate to j
our fair land we will bind ourselves individually
and collectively, to furnish you t
;tii with good husbands, within between !j
eight and ten months aft# r your arrival i
upon our coast; and thus furnish you with j
1 better employment than meddling with j
political questions, which should interest {
jou much less than your own domestic i
felicity. 't
Alt of v.hVrh is r? ; (folly submitted. 1
Houston, (Texas,) J..n. IS, ls3S.
[Signed by 3000 bachelors, whose <
names arc omitted for want ol room.] t
ft ! ? s
THE FRENCH PEASANT GIRL. t
"Tis silent .all but on my car, j i
Those well ronn inhered echoes thrill." I ]
After a season of ft it, and dissipn t
tion. lilt* very "iijoi'..en! >< who it saltan s, 11
M oils, am! Maname Vie.,re. "i?me dewn
to a retired villag in France, t,? taste to. 1 i
a few days ihe holy influence ??f nauir- 'd
and solitude. It was in the JHiiniecr titv. . j
the country was picturesque and beauli-1.
fui, und th 'y still retain"d a portion ??t i
u at early romance which is inherent in s
our nature, ami which leans us back with i
a syren smile, ami a char ied mice, to t
the pleasure which delighted our child- I
hood, and makes tis love to sit under old i
trees, to listen to the voice of birds, and t
to gather wild flowers, 41 others yet the i
same," as those which we have plucked
and wreathed into chaplets in days of yore, l \
During one of their solitary rambles, jl
thev came suddenly upon a young pea-In
sunt girl, drawing water from a well, her I#
back was towards them, and they paused {
for a moment to admire the simple and
classical elegance of the voting cottager.
H cr dark shining hair was gathered up in 1
alow knot at the back of her head, ami
confined \vit a siIv r pin, which was the
only ornament, she wore, the rest of her
dress being composed of the simplest and
coarsest material. Though labor and exposure
had somewhat stained the whiteness
of her hands and?arms, their beautiful
symmetry could neither be altered nor
concealed. She appeared thoughtful, and 1
leaned against the side of the well in silent
abstraction. Unwilling to disturb
her, they were turning into another path,
when their steps were arrested by a strain
of rich and untutored melody, which
arose in a still air like enchantment; the
words were simple, hut the sweetness
which thrilled through every note surpassed
any thing they had ever before
heard.
I
" Mun Dint!" exclaimed Madame Vil-11
laret, "it is that peasant girl; she must i
h?" oura Such o voice, with a little cul- <
tivation, would bewitch all Paris, and <
make our own and the girls fortune " i
They returned and entered into conver- t
sation with the young villager, the result
of which it is not difficult to guess. Pau- t
line Duiaut was poor, but innocent and t
happy. She onl\ felt aad when ahe look- i
ad . n the b wed .-.nd waisted f< rm of her t
( Id father and icflected upon her own utter
helplessness It was on the evident \
love which ahe bore this aged parent that <
Madame Villaret worked; she represented <
to her in how snort a time, b) the exer- <
cise of her talents in cultivating that gift |
of song which God had so graciously be- <
stowed on her, she would he enabled to I
raise him from a state of indigence to one |
of comparative affluence and comfort; t
Pauline was more than half persuaded. c
During their interview at old Durant's 1
oitage, there wet one among the group a
rho stood apart, with hie arms crossed r
tod his lips-compressed. He marked all
hat passed with a stern and vigilant glance, i
istened to the specious arguments of the t
ady with a contemptuous sneer, and j
matched the struggle between visions of [
grandeur, and a deep rooted love of her j
iwn simple home and habits which rent t
the present of Pauline in silence. He ?
longed to speak but did not, he was deter- ,
mined she should speak for herself. She <
lid so, and Madame triumphed in the sue- ]
cess of her oratory. But the young g *rl 1
turned away from her congratulations and <
promises, and for the first time perceived j
who had made one of the audience.?
"You htfro, Xhdre/V she said, "Oh! I ,
am so glad!" and then she paused, for |
there wan nothing in the expression of t
his countenance to make her glad. "You j
think I have dpne wrong," and eagerly |
continued.' "I know you do, and are an* '
gry with me. But it is not t<>o late, only i
say the word, and I will not go." "And i
could you stay here and share my honest i
poverty after all the golden promises that ,
have been made you?** asked the young I ]
man dotibtingly. She leant her head upon
his shoulder, and looked up silently into
his eyes; there was no need of words, he
felt the deep devotion of that look.?
"And yet, Pauline, you would like to
go?"
/'I confess I should. Only think, Andre,
in a few years I should be quite rich
enough for our happiness. I will then
return and live with you lorever?"
" Let us ronsenl to Iter departure," said
M. Durunl; "even in the great city to
which she is going, the remembrance of a
father's love, and the lesions of a sainted
mother, will shield her from harm. My ,
grey head will not be bowed in shame and
sorrow to the grave, but I shall hold it
erect, and, while listening to her praises,
to "her triumphs, remember with pride
and glory it is my daughter of whom they ;
speak?"
'With a full heart the young girl knelt (
lown to receive her lather's bh ssing, a |
blessing no! of the lips but of the heart, i
A .
(inure was moveil, against . his feelings j
ind better judgment, to consent, and
pressed his lips upon her white brow with i
passionate tenderness, be said in a scarce- j
y audible whisper?
"Pauline, no other kiss must efface |
bis fiist this pure pledge of our mutual ?
iffertions. until we iue? t again."
The idushiug girl w pt her vows ami j
iromises upon his bosom. i
t Three days afte: tl r chateau of Mr. Vil- ?
aret .vns ag i to lot. and al- was silence f
i die w ds 11 ivI va I which
h" pi as.? 111 g:ri's * i ? w ' echo
ike tin ti.j e?. hi 1
M oi.tiis roll d?>, s u . in the c
'onlincti.ent of a rnwib u city, and in i
he ini? nse course of s inly f rough which
>he was obliged t? pass, a piclio inary c
step, to the tiiuni, lis of Madame Viilaret f
nitieipafed for her, found a sad change, r
$ut the thought of her o| I father, and of t
Ik ultima h i *i)vss she vns p .aimg'g
r ?' -* .? . i ; and w
h.? gr c . k,
ea? ig >( i ?' vd v? e . s .li ;o ot t tl
uiv.i n i ti v i y ,.sii, 11y i.-, i!ie ji y us ( |>
e - f . e; i m..uii d I' no. r>h_
. I I
St: U r.-r Molt*. a . Mail. \l.iU- p
e* \icr< b si h'i l?? Ik hu .in i t- was ft
i Wi rul'ii i s i i -r I". ?< i a I?o 11 * \v - j ii
ess ! i >vt . ? ! ('.nut (I a pai-fuljn
'ontrast with i' < Mf. r<i<>i:iui minus she i n
tad quitu- !, ai . s':i> i uhi only regard t
hem as in ;trt meats, l.y the means of j li
vhich she* w .s to work out a path to e
vealth, happiness, and Andre Ludolph. jt
The t?me now approached when she b
vas to make first appearance before a pubic
audience. Much was anticipated from d
i pupil of Madame Villaret, nor were fi
hose anticipations disappointed; Pauline b
nade a splendid debut, her patroness was
juite satisfied and the simple girl, daz- c
.1. J It - '
vii'q bi.o ocwwdrrei by flattery and adu-lh
ation, began to think it was a blessed a
lay when the French ladys passed to lis-j
en to het as she sal singing h* the ruined g
veil. After a short and highly success-| m
ul season, M. Villaret proposed a jour-i d
ley to Naples, where he had accepted a|
ucrative engagement in the name of his , b
iToung protege. Pauline offered i.o objec- j
ions; she only stipulated that they should C
Tiake the cottage of her father in the c
oute. The >ld man received her with s
-aptuous del'ght; he looked younger and
>etter than when they parted The c<?t- g
age was simply but neatlv and comforta- c
)iy furnished, and as Pauline glanced t!
iroun . her, she remembered that these, d
comforts she had already procured for ii
ler parent. Andre was absent, but she n
eft a thousand kind ineasn. t?t :,v
_ .... ..nil n mi |
ier father, who told her that the lame she c
tad acquired had already reached this tr-!fl
note village, and formed a theme of won-1 a
ler and conversation amongst her old ii
companions, but that such reports had
)nly served to render Andre more than it
isually gloomy and dispirited. *
"He has not yet learned to trust me, v
hen," thought Pauline, "Well, no mat- d
;cr, another year, and all this doubtiog
>nd fearing will have passed away, and 1 li
dio.ll he all his own.** I
Alas! who shall dare to say whnt one s
pear may produce, to what ages of joy IV
jrsoriow it may be the forerunner. God h
mly knowneth the future! This visit was ne- t<
ossarily a hrief one, but her former corn- c
anions all followed the carriage for some tl
listance on its route, offering their simple b
lowers and their heart felt wishes for a
tcr speedy and happy return. Affected a
>y their love, Pauline leant hack in the c*
carriage and covering her face with heri v
lands wept long and silently; such tears,'pi
- r . * *?.f .
hed for Biich a cause, were indeed a luxu-' c
'y* :c
A lapse bf several years roust inter-1.1
rene before I again commence my narra- i
ire, nor will we inquire what were Pau-' f
ine's pursuits in the interim. It is a ?
>ainful task to trace too minutely the pro* 1
jress 6f demoralization and rice; to mark <
he plague spot of tin and misery, gra- 1
lually deepening and spreading orer the I
mce innocent and young heart, until <
every trace of its early purity is effaced. <
1 shall abstain from doing this, and re- \
turn to our heroine, who was now in full
career of what men call glory, and ad- '
fcKs sin!
On the evening to which I would refer,she
stood bffore a crowded and enthusiastic
audience in the theatre at Naples, and
their tumultuous murmurings of nppluusc
flushed the pale cheeks and kindled the
I * L . . . .1
origin eyes 01 tneir universal lavoritc.
That night she had been even more than
usually- effective, and the people held
their breath lest one note of that sweet
melody should be lost. Suddenly the
songstress paused, and the air was abruptly
terminated by a wild shriek; there was
music even in that shriek; it was the voice
of human agony. Many thought it but the
starling effect of premeditated art, but
those who were near enough to mark her
lived brow, and shuddering frame, felt it
to be the language of irrepressible emotion.
She was borne from the stage to
her own dressing room, where she soon
recovered, at least the outward appear-1
unre, of composure.
" Vanvitelli," she said in a whisper to
the handsome young Neapolitan, who
was bending anxiously over her couch,
return instantly to the threntrc and seek
out the young man who wore a green jerkin
and scarcely took his eyes off me the
whole evening.*'
" I saw that you noticed him."
Vou must bring him to me, I would
spenk to him in private. 1
The Count hesitated, and Pauline per- 1
reiving the frown" which gathered over 1
Ids brow, laid her white jewelled hand
upon his, and added with a persuasive 1
jmile?
It is an old friend, a countryman of,
mine; I would but ask if my poor father
s yet alive!"
' Subdued by the tears which dimmed
ler beautiful eyes, the count bowed and 1
withdrew to fulfil her request.
The following morning as Pauline sat 1
sad and alone in her desolate yet splendid i
iparlments, the door whs suddenly flu.ig >pon,
ami the accents of a never to be 1
orgotten voice thrilled to her very soul. i
411 have brought, the stranger you wish-'1
id to ," said Vanvltelli, and drawing j*
tearer he added in a whisper, "let your 1
;onference be a short one, I shall return <
n an hour." j I
She did not look up?shednre rm?t
loor closed, and she < v
irst love! Neither
ninutes, and wrapt in gloomy abstraction, <
he young man was unconscious that the
ift- d, the beautiful, the idol of Naples 1
as kneeling at his feet.
"Pauline!" he said at length, and the f
memory of early innocent days came <
ack to her with the sound of that voice. <1
Pauline, mini* mvn lm-nt .i.:_ ?
9 ^ .. M av? v? Wlljf UI1S | t
osilit>n to me? It is I who ought to kneel 1
ar having dared to doubt your purity and n
rutn. B?.t fearful rumors reached me in t
ay far tiff home, and almost drove me 1
uad. I have travelled hundreds of miles c
a heat them contradicted by your own r
ips; and now 1 ask not one word. It is t
nough to gaze on thy young face to know r
here is no shade of sin on that high pure t
row." 1 d
He bent over her with all the long hoarcd
affection of years, but Pauline sprang j
rom the ground,' and avoided his em- d
race. 1
"Oh do not, do not curse me!" she ex- g
laimed wildly. "It was all trim tlmt '
- J " " *
eard of me, all! I am indeed fallen, I g
m unworthy of you!" n
44 Ai d this palaazo?" asked Andre, I
nzing around the splendid apartment 'h
/ith the bewildered air of one, who n
reams. c
44 Belongs to Count Vanvitclli, he who t
rought > ou hither." . a
44 Then you are his wife?his countess, n
rod grant that his love may be able to re- u
lopcnse you for that which you have li
rorned and dispiscd." r
14 No, no!" interrupted the agonized ti
irl, while a burning blush crimsoned her t<
hi? k and brow; 44 It is worse even than n
hat. Although the mistress of thissplcn- ci
id mansion, I am only Pauline Durant, ti
f one so lost dare assume a name until e
tow unsullied.*' t
The young mm rudely snaehed his n
loak from her frenzied grn^p, but she ii
I'W to the #hi<?r niwl nvlnn.ln.l I
? ..., vatbiiucu hit snowy p
rms lo prevent him leaving her exclaim- c
ng? s
44 But one word! Ohl^in mercy, Andre, p
ell me of n.y father." li
44 lie is dead! Return thanks to God, f<
retched girl, that he lived not to sec this ji
ay." a
The heart stricken Pauline uttered one a
dw cry, and sank lifeless on the ground. f<
n the delirious fever which followed this b
udoen shock, Count Vanvitelli sent for u
Isidantc Villaret to take charge of her \v
ite pupil, and their united enre and at- st
pntion restored her to health. But a rc
hange seemed to have- passed over her; tl
lie still small voice of conscience had n
een awakened, and refused to slumber A
gain, and both the caresses of Mndame si
nd the love of the young count were be- tc
time hateful to her. After a long inter-1 A
al occasioned by ill health, the rc-ap- tl
caranco of Pauline Durant was nnnouu-Ul
ed to tale |>1&ce in a days, end a
rowded audience assembled to welcome
>ack their favorite. But they catne iti
rainl after waiting some time the manager
made his apraarance before them, and
nformed them wot there was reason to
Relieve that Mabemoisselle Durnnt had
secretly quitted Naples. Vanvilelti was
like one distracted. He offered rewards
for any intelligence of her, and dispatched
messengers in all directions, but w ith
out success; Pauline was lost to him and
to the world for ever.
It was at the close of a beautiful} Sabbath
evening, concluded in a way which
may appear strange to our English prejudices.
by u dance on the green turf, that
a female form was discerned, moving forward
with feeble stops; it paused rcpeatedI),
us overcome with fatigue, and dropped
down at length with a heavy groan.
The dancers suddenly paused, and gathered
anxiously around the stranger.
" Surely I should know that foccf" exclaimed
a young girl, pressing eagerly forward,
"Can it be Pauline Durant?"
"Pauline," said the wanderer in a feeble
voice "do not forsake me? You all
loved Pauline once?for the memory of
those happy days, then do not scorn me!"
Her young companions wept, and kissed
her pale and emaciated hands in silence.
There was but one sentiment in every
breast?pity for the unfortunate, and they
said among themselves, "We all know
that she was once innocent and good; but
we cannot, in our ignorance of the world,
conceive the power of these temptations
which have led her to full. God forbid
that we should judge harshly of her, or
scorn her, now that sho is ill and unhappy.
This was simple reasoning, but it
was the language of the heart?and worth
all the philosophy in the world.
At her request they bore her in their
arms to the collage of Andre and laid her
on his rude couch. Life was ebbing fast,
she could not speak but the heart of her
lover was not proof against the mute eloquence
of her looks; he supported her
head on his bosom, and wiped away the
damps which gathered over her pale brow.
At that moment years of past sin and misery
were blotted out, and she was again
his own, bis pure, bis first, and only love.
Suddenly Pauline lifted up her pale wan
face from his bosom, and shook back the
t'amp and disheveled masses of hair which
hod half concealed it. Her mind was
evidently wandering to the past, her eyes
shone with intense lustre, and she sang.
It was on air from the opera in which she
should have made her re-appearance at
Maples, The notes were beautifully,
Louchingly sweet, and the peasant girls
clung to each oilier, and listened as though
under the influence of a spell. The strain
terminated abruptly, and a thrilling cry
from Andre proclai ned that the soul of
the vocalist had parsed away in its sweet
. >0.^1 v
sopy of a letter from Major General Jn.~ur to the
Secretary of War, dated
Head Quarters, Army or tiie South, )
Fort Jupiter, Feb. 11, 1838. $
Sir: I reported to the Adjutant General
in the Oth instant, the operations of this
livision of the army south of ihis post t?
hat date, and the arrangement which I
lad entered with the chiefs, Tuskccgee
nil JIallch llago. The arrangement is.
hat they arc to come in with their fannies
and people, and are to await the deision
of the President whether they shall
emnin in the country or not. I promised
o recommend thai they be permitted to
cmain, and that a portion of this Tcrriory
he assigned to them as their rcsilencc.
ItplVlfrt ? - '
... .... v. |<i i r>wn ung :,,a views or. mat suocct,
and redeeming ifTy pledge to the Inlians,
it may be proper to state my own
losition in regard to the question of emigration,
so that in what I shall say in reation
to the Seminolca, my views in regard
to the gcnoiul principle may not ho
nistaken. Believing, as I do, that the
ndians cannot, uud< r our Constitution,
iavc a sepavato political existence within
n independent State of this Union, without
the consent of the State, I believe
hat it is due to the States in which they
re congregated in large bodies, to remove
them whenever they are pressed
ipon by the white population, and their
ands become necessary to the ngricultual
wants of the community. And I hold
hat Congress, and not the Indian*, are
o determine the proper time for their re
noval. We, in our 1*cderal capacity^
wc the Indians protection; not^that proeclion
secured to our own citizens by the
qual operation of our laws, for that, in.
heir condition, would be merely noniilal
protection; but wc owe them, in their
individual and collective capacity, that
rotcction which the parent owes to the
hild, or the guardian to the ward; and to
ccuro them that protection, wc must
lace them beyond the operation of State
iws. With the fullest conviction, thereore,
not only of the nolicv. but of the
isticc and humanity of the measure, I
m in favor of their entire emigration;
nil I have supported that policy under
>ur successive Administrations. But I
elicve we should not apply the principle
ntil tlio white population are in contact
ilh, or intermingled among them. The
late of things at which I consider their
tmoval imperative, actually existed when
tc tribes inhabited Ohio, Indiana, Illiois,
Missouri, Mississippi, and South
labama, were sent to the West: that
ate of things actually exists in relation
> the Chcrokecs in Tennessee, North
labama, and Georgia; ami, regardless of
?c opposition made to the measure, they
tould be at once rcmorcd