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THE CAMDEN JOURNAL IJll10nni.LBmL?LUIPWCTE WW*L*^**"**i,'*MM""J^^^**ttM138MOHMBOMBPSBgHMBBBiBKHCSM3gaBBiWMMBBBIiMWWfcaa^t^BB3BgB5PEJWm33WWI88W^33? *? r iMM3ECCSBBHCMWMPflBCS?ai -tSi, irrl^M^MBMMWMHfcpOBP Volume 3. camden, south-carqlina, February 27,1&52. number it. THE CAMDEN J OURNAL. published semi-weekly and weekly by THH1AS 3. gABBBH. TERMS. The Semi-Weekly Journal is publLshcd at Three Dollars and Fifty Cents, if paid in advance, or Four Dollars if payment is delayed three months. The Weekly Journal is published at Two Dollars If paid in advance; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents if payment be delayed six months, and Three Dollars if not paid till the expiration of the year. * rivcpTTCirAf EMTS will be inserted at the follow ing terms: For one Square (fourtoen lines or less) in the semi-weekly, one dollar for the first, and twenty-five cents for each subsequent insertion. In the weekly, seventy-five cents per square for the first, and thirty-seven and a half cents for each subsequent insertion. Single insertions one dollar. Semi-monthly, monthly and quarterly advertisements charged the same as for a single insertion. 2? "The number of insertions desired, and the edition to be published in must be noted on the margin of all advertisements, or they will be published semi-weekly until ordered discgntiucd and chargea accordingly. "fresh garden weds. THE Subscriber has just received a new supply o Fresli Winter and Spring Garden Seeds. As we test all our Seeds before selling them, the public may purchase from us with confidence. Wo sell nothing that we do not feel assured will grow if the necessary cautions are used, uur supply consists in part of BEANS?English Windsor, Early Mohawk, Early Yellow Six Weeks, Largo White Kidney, Refugee or 1000 to 1, Red French Speckled, Dutch Case Knife, White Dutch Runner, Large Lima. BEETS?Early Blood Turnip. Long Blood, white Sugar. CABBAGES?EnrXy York, Large York, Sugar Loaf, May, Early Drumhead, Large late Drumhead, Savoy, Early Dutch, Green Globe Savoy, True Green Glazed. CARROTS? Early Horn, Long Orange. CUCUMBERS?Long Green, Early Frame, Gherkin. LETTUCE?White Cabbage, Silesia, Curled Ice head. ONION-?White Portugal, Large Red, Yellow Dutch. PEAS?Early Warrick, Early June, Early Charlton, Early Double Blossom, Codo Nulli, Dwarf Marrowfat, Largo White Marrowfat RADISH?Long Scarlet, Scarlet Turnip, Black Fall. SQUASH?Yellow Bush, White Bush, Summer Crookneck. 777RNIPS?Largo White Flat Early Spring, Early Dutcli, Yellow English, Red Top, Flat, Ruta Baga. CORN?Sweet Sugar, Six Weeks, Tuscarora, with I Okra, Purple Brocili, Cauliflower, Celery, Egg Plant, Kale, Nutmeg, Melon, Parsley, Parsnip, Peppers, Tomatoes, Rhubarb, Spinagc, Vegetable Oyster. Also, a large variety of Choice Flower Seeds. 800 Asparagus Roots. For sale bv FRANCIS L ZEMP. Jan. 9. 3 u SADDLE & HARNESS IVAKHG. THE undersigned continues his business at the old stand, returns his thanks for past favors and hopes for a continuance of patronage. All work in hi* lino will be dono with punctuality, and where the cash is i paid, at the time of delivery, a discount of ton per cent will be made. Jan 6, [2-lv] F. J. OAKS. 1 Teacher Wanted. A LADY is wanted to Teach in a private family, about ten miles from Camden. One who understands Music, would lx) preferred. Address the subscriber at Camden, S. C. Jan. 30?tf BENJAMIN COOK. ^Charleston Mercury, copy tri-weekly for two ! weeks, and forward bill. NEGRO SHOES AT COST. THE subscribers will sell the remainder of their stock of NEGRO SHOES, at Cost, for Cash. January 27. WORKMAN A BOONR ' Robinson'* Patent Parley. .4 NVxcellent, nourishing article of food, for Children 11 and Invalids?too well known to "heads of families," to require a minute description. Has always 1 been kept and sold at Z. J. DeIIAY'S. Feb. 3?tf I WANTED.?A Child's N urse is wanted by a | gentleman living about 10 miles from Camden, a girl from 10 to 14 years of age. Enquire at this office. Feb. 10. 12 swim. TEACHER WANTED.?a Teacher is wanted by a few Families in the country. For further particulars, address the subscriber at Flat Rock, Kershaw District, S. C. SEABORN JONES. Feb. 10. 12 lmw. In Equity?Lancaiitcr District. James R. Hunter, vs. Allen C. Blair, et al?Petition to g Account and apply Funds. * TT is ordered that William McCorklc and Elizabeth J. his wife, defendants in above case, (made so by the order of the uourt,; ao answer, pieau urueiuui to mc petition in above case, on or beforo tho 12 th day of May, 1852, otlierwise judgment pro confesso will bo ordered against them. JAMES II. WITIIERSPOON, Oom'r. Equity L. D. 1 Lancaster C. II. (S. C.) Feb. 5, 1852. 12?tf Clear the Way. IN order to make room for Spring Purchases, I now offer the following WINTER COOLS at prices unquestionably low: Ladies' Winter Dress Goods of ever}* kind, from 12c. upwards Bcantiful Brocade Lustres, 25, 31 and 37, worth 00c. I G-4 English Meriuoes, all shades, only 50c French Mori noes, plain and figured, at N. York cOst Mousslin DeLaines worth 37, for 13, 20 and 25c Beautiful fast colored Calicoes, reduced to 10c. First quality Brenoh Calico, now selling at 12c. White and Rod Elannel at a shade over cost White and Grey DufTil ill mketsat 75, 87c. and $1 [ With a great variety of WINTER GOODS, at prii cos temptingly low. My object being to raise money for my Spring purchases, I will sell sliem oflf at any sacrifice of profits, rather than keep them over to neqt winter. Parties wishing bargains, will lind this on excellent opportunity for converting their loose change into I . good, cheap uud substantial Dry Goons. | Jan. io. AGRICULTURAL IMPLEMENTS~ SINCLAIR and Moore's 1 and 2 horse Plows Two and three furrow Plows Plain and Expanding Cultivators Single and double Iron spout. Corn Bhcllcrs. The above will be sold at Baltimore prices, with expenses added, to close a consignment. Feb. 4. McDOWALL k COOPKIt. Chinese JLu*traI WadiiiiK Fluid. THE Subscriber hrs just received a case of this invaluable labor saving Washing Fluid, to which ho invites the attention of Families, and Hotel keepers. Feb. 3 Z. J. HeHAY. ! * I O Ito'es Heavy Ounnjr Bagging, for sale at a HarI S gain by P W RONVEV ' A BACHELORS VALENTINE. Returning home at close of day, Who gently chides thy long delay, And by thy side delights to stay? Nobody. Who sets for thee the "old arm chair," Sets out the room with neatest rare, And lays thy slippers ready there? Nobody. Who regulates the cheerful fire, And piles tha bla2ing fuel higher, And bids thee draw th_. chair still nigher? Nobody. When plunged in dire and.deep distress, And anxious cares thy thoughts oppress, Who whispers hopes of happiness? Nobody. I When anxious thoughts within thee rise, And in dismay thy spirit dies, Who soothes thee with her kind replies? Nobody. When sickness racks thy feeble frame, And grief distracts thy fevered brain, Whospmpathiteswith thy pain? Nobody. Oh, now resolve, so help thee fate, To change at once thy single statp, And quick to Hymen's altar take, Somebody. i From the Literary World. ? ??nnir/\V VTT?VAV Ij '.fx D'-. .11* UI' mjimni va>v >av;i. THE OLD WHIG AND THE OLD TORY. BY W. GILMORK SIMMS. I cannot now recollect how old I was, when I found myself one afternoon a pleased listen- i er, as usual to a group of backwoodsmen, sitting upon a bench in front of a Carolina tavern. ' While they chatted, an old man rode in from the country. He was well mounted; and, though evidently one who hadsome time since compassed the usual limits of human life, lie carried himself with all the erectnes? of a Colo | nel of Dragoons. The landlord, an excellent 1 fellow, who was quite as fond us myself of telling or listening to a story, received the old man with peculiar deference. He wh.epered me? "This is old Col. K , of St. George's, | whom they call King K , in those parts He rules the parish." I watched the new comer with great atten lion. He sat down with the group; bilked | about cotton, which then brought good prices, I and, it appeared, was expecting his wagons ' that night. The old fellow seemed to be very j well known, and was very communicative. He evidently felt his position to be quite secure in I the esteem of everybody. He spoke of his wife, i as old as himself, and quite as vigorous, and he i confessed to full eighty winters of experience, j I have obseived that, when men have fairly ' passed the rn ddle period of life, and can no longer venture to claim to be young, tliey then ' >m? nrrmd of their vears. So manifold are t le subjects and the turnip of human vairty. Our Col. K. was however, an old man evi- J dently. His white hairs and furrowed visage 1 were inconclusive proof of his frosty experi- i e ice?frosty but kindly?and the facility and I freedom of which he spoke ol old times, and his great knowledge of details, particularly during the revolutionary period,"assured all who heard him, of a personal experience. He had gone through several anecdotes which I found singularly fresh and pleasing, when another traveller made his appearance. This person seem ed to be quite as old as the former. He was well made, about the middle size, of light com plexion, grey eyes, and very good features, taken separately, but, on the whole, the expression was not prepossessing. There was something obliquitous and indirect in the cast of his eye, and a lurking shadow of suspicion and mistrust seemed to gather beneath his great whi e eyebrows. He, like the former, was erect also in his carriage, his step was firm, and his figure was indicative of the possession, in past times at all events, of great strength atid activity.? He was evidently capable of great physical endurance. But be complained ol latigue. Me had ridden fifty miles that day. "There was a time," he remarked, "when I could have done that thing a'most afore breaklast, but I ain't good for'it now, no how." "And where might you come from?" demanded the fi st stranger, Col. K , whom I remarked, from the first arrival of the last traveller, as curiously watching him, with something like a look of recognition. "Fairfield's my district," was the prompt rep'y-,. "Fairfield! You're an old man like myself," s iid ( ol. K u \ .... :i " :\ rsiM'it woja ucjwmi uic unit; |/uoi, "That's what i call old ! I'm something over that myself. Have you hecii all your life in Carolina ?" "It's my native State," said the other. "Then you must have sarved 011 one side or t'other, in the revolution?'' was the remark made with singular quickness. The person thus addressed, was rising at the moment, and about to enter the tavern. He cast a sidelong and suspicious glance at the speaker, and answered in rather lower tones? "1 reckon I did." "Them were the days that tried men's souls!" remarked Col. K , in the somewhat stale .a.r.icu uc if all dpvs were not calculated to trv j- men's souls where they have any to he tried. But K continued: "Was Fairfield your native district?" "No!" somewhat deliberately; "1 was born in Collington." (OIlMnn ) "Ah! well, I usee to know every hole and . corner in Colleton, and almost the name of eve ry man and woman that was ever horn there, j I'm a Colleton man, myself, and if you sarved ! in your young days in those parts, wo ought to know each other. My name's K ; but j what may your'n be, old gentleman ?" The latter hesitated, but at length replied, firmly. "My name's B and he moved as he answered to the tavern entrance. "What!" was the exclamation of the other. "What! you don't tell me that you are Phil j B , the son of old Harvey B ,of M C .settlement ?" "The very same,'' said the other, now turn- | ing lull upon the questioner. "What do you know about him or me ?" "What do 1 know about j'ou ?" cried the other, with a shout, and starting from his seat; "what, don't 1 know about the bloodiest tories in the whole settlement? Oughtn't I to know you ? Oughtn't you to know me and to fear mc too ? Have yon forgotten this?" and, dashing off iiis hat, aud thrusting up his hair as he 6poke, he showed a great scar which traversed nearly the whole line of his forehead. B recoiled and started as if to seek shelter in the tavern, but before he could do 60, Col. K , with tiger-like ferocity, sprang upon him. The other, now that the thing was unavoidable, snoweu mmseii no whys u.ictvward ; and the two clinched, as if with talons of steel, one hand of K Uging wound in with the long, thin grey hairs of B , while the fingers of the other hand were griped about his neck with such a riveting firmness, that, in an instant almost, the eyes of the sufferer seemed to be starting out of their sockets. B , meanwhile was by no means imbecile or idle. He locked his enemy in an embrace of iron 6inews, about the.waist, and seemed chiefly bent upcn throwing him, a matter more easily resolved upon than.done. And there and thus, these two old grey-headed men, each more than eighty years of age, were renewing the conflict of half a century past, and presenting, in a real and terrific drama, the wrathful spirit of that fierce civil war which had never died out in either bosom. The whole scene was over in a few moments. At first, the company, taken completely by surprise, sat motionless. But when their first astonishment subsided, they darted in and tore away the combatants from their terrible bug of bate which they iiad taken upon ea<'h other, and which, by this time, had brought botli of them down upon the pavement. It was not so easy to separate them, and after the lapse of several minutes, when K lay down upon the bench from exhaustion, while his enemy had disappeared, it was discovered that the fin gers of the former still clutched and held a handful of the long grey hairs of B . Tb?? latter was no more seen at the "Bull's Head."? The proprietor kept him out of sight till night, and then sent him to >i distant tavern, where he lay perdu till K had left the city. The cause of this fierce momentary conflict may be readily conjectured by nil those who have any knowledge of the history of the Tory ascendency of South Carolina during the Revolution. It involves a story, which, from the lips of K , whose digressions were endless, ami his episodes numerous, was a very long time in telling. 1 may dismiss it in a ,few words. K and B were playmates in boyhood. They grew up to manhood together, but separated, as their fathers did, and as , was frequently the case, taking different sides in the great issue between the colonies and the crown. The fluctuation of the contest found the two parties alternately in the ascendant, and at such periods, neither exhibited much forbearance in the exercise of po.ver. Hate took the place of former intimacy, and a wild spirit of revenge was begotten by . Irequent excesses, i K and B were yet, scarcely men, when they came to blows. They were separated without doing each other mischiel, in the separation of their several parties. K was one of Marion's men; B became a Lieutenant of Loyalists, sometimes commanded by a British Colonel; at other tunes, particularly towards the close of the war, being under the command of Cruger, Leslies, or Cunningham. While on a scouting expedition, with a small squad under his own control, B penetrated the old settlement of his boyhood. K and his father, the one with Marion, the other with Sumter, were both absent.? When they returned they found the family homestead a heap of ashes, and the mother of Iv?? was murdered. The sister, who es caped to the house of a neighbor, and who had once been an object of B 's passion ? who was supposed, indeed, to have regarded him with favor, in spite ol her father's wishes ? was the first to report against him. She alleged that he himself had put the fire to their dwelling, and she believed that it was his bullet which had stricken her mother as she fled. It is due to B to state that he solemnly denied the latter impeachment. He admitted the arson, and deplored it in his old age?deplored it to the landlord of the Bull's Head, and to others, by whom he was rescued from the fierce gripe of K . But K could not bu taught otherwise. ''He ldt a challenge for me, with my sister, the villain ! He boasted that all he wanted was to stand loot to foot with me in fight!?and I sworn!? there, then, on bended knees in the still smoking ashes of our homestead, that all other passions of my heart should give way to tliu single one of vengeance!" " lie shall have his,' 1 cried, 'hut I, too, shall have mine, We shall meet, loot to foot, ami one or both of us shall sleep forever at the place of meeting!" How I strove for that meeting day and night ?how I watched and hunted for him?it is not possible to tell. You ?ee he lives?both lives ?and I have labored and prayed to no purpose, Once only, in the war afterwards, did I encounter him. and we were both alone. We knew each other at the same moment. It was close on the Eutaw settlement, I wa? crossing r muddy creek ford, when he mount- d a hundred yards or more before me. He looked round as I crossed the creek, and instantly put ? 4 ~ txPT .if Pi 1 11 Cn/iorl' spills III Ills must iiuu ntrniuu at iuu opvw., and I after him, as hard as I could drive. He didn't stop to fight?his heart failed him. His conscience took away his strength; but he loved life, and he worked for it bravely enpugh, though he wouldn't fight. He had an open fi .'Id belorc him, and I had to rise a hill. This gave him an advantage, but I had the belter horse of t^he two, and once 011 a level with him I gained at every bound. I gave him both pistols as we ran, but didn't touch him. He still went clear. He wheeled suddenly into an old road, and for a moment I lost hiin. This made me wdd. What, with spur and sabre, for I gave my horse both, I seemed to fly. I was soon in the road myself, and he still fifty yards or more ahead. And so we kept for a mile. Then the distance shortened, and I felt sure of him. I whooped to him to stop and meet the man he had challenged; but no! wa'nt man enough for that! Rut 1 could see every now and then, that he looked about and that he carried liis pistol ready in his Land There was hut that one chance for him. I kept on the left hand side of the track, and pushed the harder. The hoofs of the two horses now began to come down together, with one sound only, and I made ready to cut him down, as soon as he should close. His pistol didn't 6care me. M v blood was like fire in my brain, j would have followed him, as we rode, into the thick ofTarleton's Dragoons. It was a delicious madness that I felt, when I thought that.in a few minutes only. I should see him lying under my feet. He knew his danger. He knew he cou'dn't stand before me- He was afrid-dreadfully afraid but he kept his senses. I could see him every now and then looking round to mark the distance between us, and then, bow I shouted to him ! I remember everything I 6aid. 1 tried to goad him so as to make him turn about. I didn't wish to cut him down wit.icut giving him a chance. His face was mighty pah-, hut his lips were close sot, and his eves open but glassy, with a dreadful stare. His time was coming I calculated it. Everything ran through my thoughts m an instant of time. With three bounds more I should overhaul him certain, and 1 threw up my sabre, gave my horse the rowl, all the way up, rushing his Hanks lor six inches, and rose up powerful in my stirups! Oh ! he was the luckiest villian. Just then he pulled triger upon me, But I wasn't hurt! i brought down my sword with a sweep that would have cut through and through the carcase ; but the blade seemed to hang overhead, and almost fail backwards on me. in another minute I understood all. My horse reeled under me, stuck out his forefeet in the air and lolled over. 1 had just time to slip afl'us he was falling, and to save myself from being covered by the body, lie was dead, with the bullet through the brain. 1 was on my feet in a moment hut 1 was at the mercy of the villain. My pistols were both emptied and my sabre was from my grasp and lay live steps or more from mc, by tne side of tne road, lie might have butchered me, like a dog, if lie hadn't been so mightly scared.? As it was, lie gave me the oilier pistol, and ,pushed?never stopping to see what he had done, But he had ueaily finished my horse? 1 felt the bullet rushing along the skull, and - ! ? ! : a i.;..., leaiing awajr niu smii, uuu uic ?? ??? i a sharp stroke like that of a cowaide. iMy j eyes were soon filled with blood. When 1 j could see again he was gone. 1 didn't think 1 staggered even, and 1 reckon he thought he missed me. He did not wait to see. lie wu9 too well satisfied with his own escape; and when 1 could see again fairly, he was o(F more than three hundred yards. I gathered up and luadtd my pistols, and reco*ered my sword ; and thru took with ail haste to the wdods, not knowing how soon hejnight bring his gang up-s on me. 1 travelled on loot all night, and was three mile from our camp by morning. I got there salely ; and; from that day to this, never once set eyes upon my enemy.?When peace came, 1 thought he had left the country with the British. To think that he should have been living in Fairfield all the time, and 1 not knowing it! 1 reckon he has been a pensioner ever smce, just as if he had been a true man, and not a '1'ory ! Hut I will have him yet! The old soldier was disappointed. It was not long before he paid the debt of nature.? B did not survive him many months, as I subsequently heard ; and the parties, their account htially settled on earth, are now both ol them in the hands of the avenger. Tm: Feak of God.? He who fears God will be most likely to love Him also, ancUie will be free from all other fear in the world!? And there is no one with so much natural or constitutional hardiness as te be altogether safe fiom other fear, unless he gives up also all hope, and makes himself like the beasts that perish. I mean, that though some may imagine danger | to exist where hardier persons see that it does not exist, yet it does exist really and near at hand, then if the prospect of death he really opened before us, it is almost impossible, unless we have the fear of God, that we should not lie tormented v ith the fear of death. This may bo said of the boldest, but great courage I is as rare as any other great viitue; the greater part of mankind do not possess it. Most of us are afraid often; our usual abscerce of fear arises only from the abseence of danger. We are afraid of sickness when we really think that it threatens us, because wo are afraid of death; and any thing else which should bring death oqnllv near to n? would bo recardod with equal terror. And indeed, this is very reasonable, if we do not fear God; for what courage, or what strength, or what wisdom can guide or support us in the hour of death and judgment? Wo are going to that state in which we have no friends, and where we have laid up no treasure. We have no friends, for even if many of our eurlhly friends have die!" before us, yet we know full well that they rannot help us; either t'nev I.....O wl ? _:?i r..:?i ..1 lid * V IV/MIIV1 VIIV JIICIIU will! IS III! IIICTIIU IU US, or else they are as destitute of friends as we are. In the darkness of that unknown world, the greater light does not dim the less, but it makes them visible. lie who beholds Christ in death, beholds with Him also an infinite mulj titude of friends; the sky is as it were thick set with stars, one differing from another star in glory, but all glorious; first the holy angels, i then God's earthly children, Christ's redeemed who have gone before us. But if the greater light be bidden, the lesser lights banish also; and not the faintest glimmer of the smallest star relieves the infinite void. We need not carryforward our thoughts to the judgment; death itself with its awful darkness and loneliness is appalling enough to us, if we have not learned to fear Christ. But fearing him we lack nothing, nothing in earth or in heaven, in life or in death, in time or in eternity. That one most saving and most holy fear, the dread of His disp'easure. the dread of not having Him for our friend and Saviour, frees us of necessity from all fear besides. Nothing shall in any wise hurt us; for we are then Christ's. Hannibal and Napoleon. Scarce any one, a t all familiar with history, can have failed to observe the extraordinary parallelism so strikingly touched upon by Arnold. 'Twice," he says, "in history, has there been witnessed the struggle of the highest individual genius against the resources and institutions of a great nation ; and in bo.h cases the nation has been victorious. For seventeen years Hanibal strove against Rome ; for sixteen years Napoleon Bonaparte 6trnve against England; the effect of the first ended in Znma, the second in Waterloo." The extraordinary similitude of the genius, conduct, and military character of these two giants in arms, is far from ending with this genersl resemblance.? Almost from point to point their destinies are similar. At the age oftwenlv-six Hannibal was elated to the supreme command^of the Carthaginian armies, and thenceforth, to the elose of i the war, he disposed at his will the resources I and held in the hollow of his hand the councils |,ofhis country. ! At the age of twenty-six, Napoleon assumed the command of the army of Italy, and from I thence his fortunes and his will were those of I France. The scenes of elnrv of hnth were the Alps and Italy. Both had the faculty of seeing at a glance where the blow must be planted, which should cripple the enemy; both delivered that blow instantaneously and iriesistibly. I Both had the same reliance on their cavalry as an army of service?Ilanihal winning by it all his greatest victories, and Napoleon insisting to the l ist that cava'ry, in equal force, equally led, must conquer infantry. Both vanquished every leader to the very last; and there is probably no one so prejudiced as to assert at this day that either Hannibal or Napoleon found in Ins conqueror a superior in strategy or military genius. Nor does the similarity end even here for both found their final vanquishers in generals made in Spain by conflicts with their own lieutenants, who were in no wise superior to other eminent leaders of their enemy; and both ultimately perished miserably, in exile, and victims to the countries which they had kept so long in awe and perturbation. | As men of genuine greatness, I shall observe only that no single act of Hannibal's evtr subserved to any selfish motive, or ministered to his own aggrandizement; and that no single act of Napoleon's did not so. The consideration of self won'd seem never to have occurred to the one,to have been ever present to the other. Both were fanatics for glory; the one because his own was his country's, the other because his country's was his own. Both were accused by their enem'es of great moral crimes and turpitude and both, in the main, unjustly. It is one of the sad truths concerning warfare, but no less a truth, that in playihg the game of war, with nations for playthings, and the world fur a field, expediency must he in a great degree the moral rule; nud that, if the game is to be played at all, the sufferinc s or the lives of individuals, even if those individuals be counted by thousands, must not be considered, where the sufferings or the lives of millions are in | question. The sin lies in playing the came at all, not in the details or the practice of the p'ny. Both these great men wetc stern and unrelenting in carrying out the I nes which thev held it true policy to lay down neither, so far as history shows, was tainted in the least degree by anything resembling personal ctueltv. Both have been accused of faithlessness?a charge never in any case to be much regarded, as brought between nations; for nations are ever prompt to declaim loudlv, whe i the lo irs, against deeds, the like of which themselves c immit readily when the {winners, hi the case of Hannibal, the Romans had all the history writing to themselves; thence, Punic faith is to this day the proverb tor entire faithlessness. Had the French writers alone made the world's nnnnl6 of the late great struggle, "perfidious Albion" had gone down a bv-word to all ages. Had the Engli.-h held the like s'ation, the utter faithlessness of Napoleon would have become proverbial with prosperity. Nothing can he a real blessing or cure to tho human soul but what is made by its own appropriation