Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, South-Carolina) 1852-1852, February 27, 1852, Image 1
THE CAMDEN JOURNAL
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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