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a s3eMocratit onurua, totes to Soutt4ern 3sntijs, Netus, AouucevnernaI intetIece, Etetit, iOralit& teargerner agetettur, see.
"We will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of Owr es, and Wit must 611 we will Perish amidst the RUins
. F. DUERISOE, Propreer- EDGEFIELD, S FEBRUARY 27,1851. vo,.xvr..
WRITTEN FOR TIE ADVERTIER.
THE LOVER'S PRAYER.
I've felt the balmy breath of spring,
13earing on its airy wing,
'The soft and gentle notes of love,
Low m urmur'd by the cooing dove,'
Whose sounds produce upon the mind
A sense of pleasure undefined.
I've felt the summer's glowing sun,
As on the track his courses run,
I've-felt his light and heat, a shower
Of genial life infusing power
Like God's etherial throne above,
From which flow light, and life, and love.
I've felt the mild moon's winter light,
Whose gentle ray illumes the night,
And, spreading over hill and dale,
Enwraps the earth, as in a veil
A softly flowing veil of white,
Which ebanges darkness inte light.
Ah, God I pray thee, let this be
The emblem of my destiny:
That in the spring time of my life,
Sweet BET may be to me, a wife
Breathing the balmy breath of love,
More'gently soothing than the dove.
And when life's summer rolls along,
And the world's troubles round me throng,
Oh God, I pray thee, let her be
A cheering sun of love to me
Imparting strength and giving joy
Which nothing may, on earth, destroy.
And when the winter's chilling blast
Proclaims, that life is nearly pant,
Oh grant, that in her noble mind,
A gloom-dispelling light I'll find:
Thus, guided by her angel hand,
I'll reach the eternal, Spirit Land.
A Iketch from Life.
"You are a good-for-nothing lazy ras
cal," said an exasperated farmer to his
son, Obadiah Davis. "You ain't worth
the salt of your meat to me. You have
neither watered the horses, nor fed the
--pigs. There's Sal, scolding down stairs,
because there's nn wood cut for the oven;
and you have
down, and the
were rendered mich mot o.
the hearty cuffs with which each one was
accompanied, and the last explanatory
push, which came from a hand brawny
with fifty years labor, formed a hint not
to be-mistaken, that the negligent youth's
company was no 19nger wanted.
Obadiah was a lubberly-looking fellow,
about seventeen. He bore the beating
with a good grace, the necessity of which
frequent experience had inculcated; and,
without saying a word to his irritated pa
rent, he went down the lane-a neglect
of the bars of which had formed one of
the counts in the declaration against him
-and sat down on a stone, ini a little
grove of trees by the side of a brook,
whose waters swept rapidly over their
sandy bed, and filled the air with fresh
ness and music. He ruminated a while,
with his under lip out in a pouting way,
which, with him as well as others, "was a
sign of some internal agitation.
"Yes," he exclaimed-for wvhy should
not farmers' boys address the groves and
invoke the rural spirits, as well as Teoll or
Brutus! " Yes," says Obadiahi, drawing
the sleeve of his coat across his mouth,
with more of a viewv of comfort than
grace; "yes, I'll be darned if I stand that
'ere any more. I ain't to be beat like a
dog all my life, and I think I may as wvell
give dad the slip now as any other time.
I'll tell him on't. If lhe's a mind to give
me a trifle, so much tihe better; if he han't,
he may let it alone."
It wvas about two days after the prece
ding events, that Mr. Davis was surprised
by the apperance of his soln, apparen1tly
equipped for a journey. Hie stared at him
a moment, partly silent from displeasure,
and partly from surprise.
" Well, father," said Obadiah, wvith some
hesitation, " I'm come to bid you good
" To bid me good bye, you fool! Why,
where are you going ?"
"I am going to seek my fortune in the
world, father. I knowv I am of no use to
you. I think I can do almost as wvell any
wvhere else. I can't do much wvorse, ait
all events. So I am going downu to York,
or somewhere thereabouts, to get along
Mr. Davis remonstrated with the young
adventurer, but found himi firm in thle pur
pose which he hlad, it seemied, been a
considerable time in adopting ; and, after
much useless persuasion, with a voice
softened by the thoughlt of their approach
ing separation, he asked hliml what course
he intended to pursue.
" I am going to study lawv."
" And how are you to be supported
while you are following your studies ?"
" I guess I'll teach school," answered
Obadiah, with the gravity of a saint.
The old man, in spite of his sorrowv,
could not refrain from laughing at the
thought of his young unsuccessful agri
culturist, retailing wvisdom and knowledge
to tile rising generation, or pursuing the
rnbile shadows of instice through the
mazy labyrinths of law. He looked al
him with increasing wonder. There hI
was, with his brown coat and linsey
woolsey trousers, his hair combed straighl
over his forehead, and standing in th<
most awkward of attitudes. But Oba.
diah, it appears, had made up his mind
and was not inclined to return to his oh]
employment on any terms. lie. there.
fore, bade his father good bye, and alsc
his siiter Sally and the cook. A shor
walk over the farm afforded him an op.
portunity of performing the same tender
duty toward the horses, the pigs, and the
old cow. All things being at length set.
tied to his satisfaction, lie started on his
way. The poultry were gathering on the
roost, and the old dog Ciesar came after
him, wagging his tail affectionately, and
entreating eloquently, but in vain, to ac
company his master on his novel expedi
tion. Many sensitive folks would have
yielded a few soft regrets to the quiet and
really beautiful spot he was leaving, per
haps forever. But Obadiah never dreamed
of regretting what lie was doing of his
own accord. He cast, therefore, only a
slight retrospective glance upon the scene
(if his boyish pains and pleasures; and,
having surveyed it a moment, with one
eye shut, commenced his journey, whist
ling Yankee Doodle.
The disadvantages under which lie la
bored were immense. Without educa
tion, and totally destitute of experience
in the fashionable or literary world;
friendless, and almost penniless, he was
to make his way among those who had
enjoyed proper instruction an( high friends
from their birth-who had been ushered
into public life with the honors of college,
and who could scarcely regard the quiet,
plain and retiring country boy, except
with smiles and derision.
His advantages, however, were not dis
regarded by himself. He knew the
strength of a mind which had grown up
in the solitude and quiet of iature's abodes,
unweakened by the dissipations of fash
ion, and untrammelled by !he fetters of a
bad system of education. le knew that
he had great difliculties to struggle against,
ninst depend upon himself
well as the graceful youth, wnose uanu
soinely turned periods excited so much
pleasure, and whose attic wvit produced
such frequent bursts of merriment, seemed
whilling away the hours delightfully, in
all the charming familiarity of high life.
A ringing was heard at the door, and the
servant announced Mr. Obadiah Davis,
who accordingly walked in, with his hat
on, and, with considerable elibarrassment,
proceeded to business. The politeness
ever attendant upon real gentility, prompt
ed the company to restrain their disposi
tion toward mirth, whilo Mr. Davis pre
sented his letter of introduction, and tihe
gentleman was perusing the same. But
when, after having finished and folded up
the letter, Mr. Chatterton introduced Mr.
Davis to the ladies as a gentleman from
the country, whose intention it was to pur
sue the profession of the law, the lurking
smiles curled their rosy lips ini spite of
themselves; and Mr. Chatterton himself,
whlile lhe performed the necessary duties
which the etiquette of the day required,
added to the good humor of his fair and
mnerr-y companiions by a w~ink, which did
not pass altogether unobserved.
Mr. Chatterton complied with his re
quest, which, upon the reconmmendation
of a friend, Mr-. Dav-is had made, to lie
allowed to file his certificate in the office
where the young gentleman, under the
instruction of his father, was also study -
Time passed on. Chairles Chiatterton,
in thme full possession of an ample fortune,
aind surrounded by the blandish unents of
life, found a thousand thinigs to charm
him from his office, lie was young, gay
and wiitty'. Ihis society wias courted by
all his acquaintanice of his own sex, and
among the fair and fascinating of the
other, a heart like his w~as sure to find
joys too delicious to be yielded for the
drudgery of a lawvyer's office, or the re
nmote hope of future fame. lie loved
music, and its notes welcomed and deC
tained him wherever lie wvent. Dancing
was his delight ; and there w~ere snowy
hands wvhich lie knew lie might have for
asking, and bright eyes to flash upon him
when lie did ask ; and how could he turn
fmrom witchieries like these, for the dusky
v-olumies of antiquated law ? lHe w~as an
enthusiastic adlmir-er of nature, and she
wooed him in a thousand ways from his
tedious task. 1Her breath was fragrant
upon the air, and her voice came to him
in winning tones in every breeze. It w~as
impossible for him to turn a deaf ear to
her enchantments; therefore lie walked,
sailed, rode ; sometimes lie wandered forth
in the morning, to witness the rising sun;
and again, in the summer night, the moon
would lure hini out from the unhealthy
lamp, to roam with loved ones beneath
No w, during all this time, little Obadiah
was busy as a bee. Hie had takeni a
svhoot. which occunied part of his time,
and the income enabled him to defray his
expenses. Nothing called him from his
duty. The moon shed her silvery radi
ance in vain ; and he had seen the sun
rise so often, that it had lost its novelty.
His feelings were not awakened by wan
dering afections, nor was his clear and
calculating brain disturbed by the intru
sive visions of fancy. Nature, art, beauty
and fashion went on with their various
revolutions and adventures, without affect
ing him-his time was devoted to study,
and he knew no other pleasure.
Ten years passed away, and brought
with it,as usual, many unexpected changes.
Charles Chatterton, the lovely, the ele
gant, the mould of fashion and the glass
of form, had been left in poverty by the
failure of his father. Bred up in the lux
uries of life, and unprepared to meet its
ruder scenes, he was inadequate to sup
port himself. His fine but effeminate
spirit broke down, and he lives in poverty,
neglected by his friends, and awaiting a
Obadiah, on the contrary, has succeed
ed beyond expectation. His skill and
knowledge have acquired for him a high
reputation ; and he is rapidly amassing a
fortune, which he will doubtless know how
to keep as well as to obtain. His man
ners, too, have become polished during his
commerce with the world, and the rough
and awkward country lad is now one of
the richest and most celebrated lawyers
of one of the first States in the Union.
His influence is visible upon a large por
tion of society, and he has refused many
offers to send him to Congress. What a
pity it is that the fine and delicate enjoy
ments of our nature are so often incon
sistent with worldly success, and that
wealth and fame must be sought by so
many sacrifices of feeling and affection.
The Infant's Appeal.
A BRIEF DUT THRLLIiG SKETCI.
In the year 1836, the inhabitants living
in a district bordering on Rock River, in
the northern part of the State of Illinois,
were much incensed by the depredations
of a band of horse thieves who infested
that portion of country. Every exertion
--A fn diennvar the men en
Woun up . suWn . .
that a body of men were formed styled
Rangers, whose explicit duty was to ex
punge the district of all suspicious char
acters, and endeavor to put a stop to the
depredations of the horse thieves.
Shortly after this band commenced op
erations, word was conveyed to the leader
of the Rangers that a valuable horse
which had been stolen the night previous,
could then be found on the premises of a
man named Burt locked up in the stable.
Although Burt heretofore had been look
ed upon as an honest man and an upright
citizen, yet the Captain deemed it his du
ty to at least examine his farm and learn
the truth or falsity of the report.
Accordingly lie summed some half doz
en of his Rangers to meet him at a spot
not far from Burt's house, and before
morning, set ont for the same place him.
self. Daylight wuas hardly discernible in
the east, and the hazy light of coming
dawn had not yet penetrated the bottom,
where the suspicious man resided, as the
Rangers charged with the fearful mission
of life or death, silently approached, and
surrounded the dwvelling. Leaving three
of the band to guard the entrance, the
Captain proceeded with the others to the
stable, broke open the door, and found
the missing horse, as had been stated,
safely stalled inside.
Not a lingering doubt nowv remained of
Bui t's guilt, and with a stern determina
tion to make such ani example of him as
would deter others from a like transaction,
thme Rangers returned to the house. In
the meantime, Burt had arisen, and com
ing to the door, was seized by those in
waiting, and upon demanding the reason,
was informed that a stolen animal w~as
found in his stable, and that he was con
sidered a thief. Muttering something
about "lie knew t'would conie to this at
last," lie quietly submitted to wvhat ever
his captors had ini store for him.
A short consultation was held, and it
was resolved to hang thme criinal~ upon a
large olin tree that grew in front of his
own house, it being deemed tha~t such an
act wvould strike terror and dismay into
the ranks of horse thieves.
Burt hind asked half an hour to prepare
for his death, and the sun had riseni in all
his golden majesty, ore the fatal moment
had arrived wvhich would launch him iinto
eternity. In vain had his grey-headed fa
ther and mother plead for his life, with
trembling tongues-the old lady tottering
forth from the dwelling, aiid kneeling, in
suppliant mioodl to his apparently merci
less captors. hin vaiin had the wife of his
bosomi knielt in tears of agony, and en
treated them as husbands to spare his life
-for each Ranger had suffered more or
less in person, and they deemed thme ex
ample absolutely necessary to deter others,
and it seemed as though Burt must die.
The dreadfnl preparatioiis were comple
ted-the half hour had exnied-.and the
criminal was ged under a limb of a
stout elm, dvetz ch a -rope was thrown,
one end being iin"sed around the prison
er's neck, and f- other held by three of
Then cameoa oment of dreadful si
lence; that aw. tillness, which preludes
the launching a fellow being into eter
nity-while th ree strong men who
held the rope's id, gazed fixedly upon
the Captain foi- signal. It was given
by raising thel arm; and already the
noose was ti hd around the doomed
man's neck, wNie e wife of Burt issued
forth from the, holding an infant, a I
little more thanA r old, in her arms.
Rushing f - she fell on her knees 1
directly in fron .the Captain, and rai- i
sing the child A :arms outstretched, to.
wards him, sho, laimed in tones that
would have pierc a heart of steel:
"If you. wil . pare him for the sake I
of his grey hai res, or the wife of his
bosom, spare the name of God, for I
the sake of his t boy!"
Another dead ce reigned like a pnll 1
over the spot ,4 as though inspired by 1
heaven itself, th d also stretched out
its little arms to s its father, and ex- I
claimed, in a yo ard by all, the sin
" Father!" :
"The muse! the Captain's face
quivered in ever ie, and the men who c
held the rope al relaxed the pressure c
around the neck art! when the infant I
again uttered in nct tones:
" Father! fai
And then, as- h despairing of suc- F
cess, huddled in other's bosom, and f
burst into a sob y.
It was morme., .the Rangers could
stand, and after ot consultation, the
rope was takef e criminals throat, e
and the band le : spot; and Burt be.
came a reform 'through the power- c
ful effects of f'r Appeal.- 1
Columbian and est.
Mothers, in U the thousand e
responsibilities- ch to Your bigb e
calling,t hink f 4and 'ask your'-s
illar; many mothers totally abstain from f,
the beverage, never allowing it in their )
presence as one of the household things, n
yet the subject is rarely mentioned in the v
presence of the little ones, and they grow fi
tip in ignorance of the miseries caused by (
this monster fiend, And therefore, unsus. c
pecting and inexperienced, fall an easy (.
prey to those wretches whose delight is b
in the ruin of the good. c
Talk to your children about the horrors e
of intemperance; let no day pass, if possi. F
ble, witrout some familiar illustration, u
some wholesome advice, or gentle saru. h
ing. Carry them iherp the drunkard u
hides, for unless f miliar with sin by u
knowledge of its existence, we may be h
by sore and bitter experience. Never
yet them tobjectise ta e chionedn the a
prsenc or lauhe atthe ones, antic ofhey hrwf
upoo inbioane o thoutiseries as ti
raterethayuing bandy inexerenedmall eay
preyntotse owlvringhes hem dlicen sb
qnte yr exampe giod afeeeas
BTter to appr hilar an u nf hoor
iblle winhot somfeingiliar fiensraion, 1u
than weeboken atd, or te wla
ing. forrhm whcerune caed our a
firdeso beutiflessy familiaromithi by
thenowied ou sexsne sheimy ble h
byforer. Thesera exeritehn Nevro
po carite. about buwfitht notweetmasti
frthe itllanky usebad in ma in<I
stantites for fapprting ifte icanrs,
quthe myoexle iswt alter goodrs.
lya cweepha erenagdetrotedo-t
wod om whave kept tncei caleour o
fair ocan beatifls, and uad frohic
thae reowunded yesou h siegl voies
for er.oTese may thsetey lovtedthng t
buncarefg aou ouf it preiou nes bee
foWe lleark will ued i many inogh
stances byeaprdent aginsgnifican whormlook
upnthe manynol ships ith al heirood
lyv cresothat, aeen antgBo pesryd in
Miourioda hae supeeit s upont
pleocean atthesulndthuad off Snorilf
heection houghilejoinginthetom efats
ofv Besonde aye o the swety oices
adeloeseet of thoset ey er.oved.
undyingous hoeeo the preios ones' a
Weno eare d anod theciy ilthumiht- C
ins ther acoutalefolteeeribe
Wcrimes recordeda anosewho " ok
uonlthe iewhen 155 inhabed." s h3
vNev Dmochsran rernti-edntn haer int I
Missrti n ho stben upnehtis yotzno et
alease ato thenesl. fteSeaoil
The late William Hazlitt, a man gifted
with great powers of observation and ex
pression, was of opinion that actors and
authors were not fitted, generally speak
ing, to shine in conversation. 0 Authors
Dught to be read, and not heard ;" and as
to actors, they could not speak tragedies
in the drawing-room, and their wit was
ikely to be comedy and farce at a so
tond-hand. The biography of men of
etters, in a great measure, confirms this
pinion; some of the greatest names in
English and French literature, men who
iave filled books with an eloquence and
ruth that defy oblivion, were mere mutes
)efore their fellow-man. They had golden
ngots, which, in the privacy of home,
hey could convert into coin bearing an
mpress that would insure universal cur
ency; but they could not, on the spur of
he moment, produce the farthings current
n the market-place. Descartes, the fa
aous mathematician and philosopher;
.afontaine, celebrated for his witty fa
les; and Buffon, the great naturalist,
vere all singularly deficient in the powers
if conversation. Marmontel, the nove
ist, was so dull in society, that his friend
aid of him, after an interview, " I must
o and read his tales, to recompense my
elf for the weariness of hearing him."
As to Corneille, the greatest dramatist
f France, he was completely lost in so
iety-so absent and embarrassed, that
e wrote of himself a witty couplet, im
orting that he was never intelligible but
irough the mouth of another. Wit on
apers seems to be something widely dif
.rent from that play of words in conver
ation, which, while it sparkles, dies; for
,harles I., the wittiest monarch that ever
at on the English throne, was so charm- I
d with the humor of "Hudibras," that
e caused himself to be introduced, in the
haracter of a private gentleman, to But
-r, its author. The witty king found the
uthor a very dull companion; and was
f opinion, with many others, that so
tupid a fellow could never have written
D clear a book. Addison, whose classic
legance of style has long been consider
d the best model for young writers, was
yr, and. absent in society, preserving,
... ,,u nun to nave oeen a aenght
1 companion among intimates; and
oung writes of him that " he was rather
mute in society on some occasions, but
rhen he began to be company he was
ill of vivacity, and went on in a noble
:rain of thought and language, so as to
ain the attention of every one to him."
oldsmith, on the contrary, as described
y his contemporary writers, appeared in
ompany to have no spark of that genius
hich shone forth so brightly in his works.
[is address was awkward, his manner
neouth, his language unpolished: he
esitated in speaking, and was always
nhappy if the conversation did not turn
pon himself." Dr. Johnson spoke of
im as an inspired idiot; yet the great es
iyist, though delivering oracles to those t
round him in pompous phrases, which
ave been happily described as spoken in
to Johnsonese tongue, was not entitled
ibe called a good conversor.
Nearer to our own time, we have had I
lany authors whose faculty told twice. ]
heridan and Theodore Hook were fel
m>ws of infinite jest ; they could " set a
ble in a roar," and fill pages with pathos I
nd wit of such a quality, that it makes I
icir survivors think " we could have 1
,ared better men."
Burns was famous for his colloquialr
owers; and Galt is reported to bave been
s skilful as the story tellers of thec Esast
Sfixing the attention of his auditors oni
is prolonged narrations. Coleridge wns<
a the habit of pouring forth brilliant un- t
roken monologues of two or three hours'
uration, to listeners so enchanted, that,<
ke Adam, whose ears wvere filled with I
se eloquence of an archangel, they for-<
ot "all place-all seasons and their t
hange ;" but this wias not conversation,
nd fewv might venture to emulate thatr
old man eloquent" with hopes of equal<
Washington Irving, in the account lhe<
as given of his visit to Abbotsford, says
f Sir Walter Scott, that his conversatijon<
ras frank, hearty, picturesque and dra
matic. He never talked for effect or dis
lay, but from the flow of his spirits, the 1
tores of his memory, and the vigor of1
is imagination. lie was as good a lis
meer as a talker; appreciated every thing
hat others said, however humble might
e their rank and pretensions, and was1
nick to testify his perception of anyi
oint in their discourse. No one's con-i
erns, no one's thoughts and opinions, no1
ne's tastes and pleasures, seemed be
eath lhmn lie made himself so tho
oghly the companion of those with
rhom he happened to be, that they forgot,
or a thme, hi's vast superiority, and only
ecollected and wondered, when all wvas
ver, that it was Scott wvith wvhom they
gdf been- oi such familiar terras, In wvhose
ociety they had felt so perfectly at ease.
-Ch.-mbhers' .Jnernn f
Society' North- and Sodth.
One of the editors of the New YorI
Day Book, who is at present on. a can.
vassing tour through the SoutlierrnStates
draws a parallel between the social con.
dition of the two sections, which is nol
flattering to the North, and less so be.
cause of its truth.
" It is said and verily believed in the
North, that slavery is wrong and tends to
immorality. How far this is so, may bo
seen by the facts which I shall here refer
to. It is a well established principle that
the commission of one crime tends to
another; that a man who habitually vio
lates one of the fundamental laws of sound
morality, will not scruple at the- others.
An habitual drunkard will lie,. a liar will
steal, and a thief will swindle and murder.
Now then, if slavery is sinful, the slave
holder is a sinner; therefore the conclu
sion is that all in the South are sinners,
and of course moral character does not
exist. Now for the facts.
" 1 am not going into the statistics of
crime, but simply to state what my eyes
have seen and my ears heard, or rather
what they have not seen and heard, as
well as what is very well known and ad.
mitted. I have been. in the slaveholding
States a little over a month, I have trav
led nearly two thousand miles by rail.
road and steamboats, have staid all night
md a great many days at hotels. I have
een in bar rooms, in drinking saloons, in
roceries, in bowling and billiard rooms,
n plantations, and in private houses of
he master and the slave, and I have not
ieen one solitary individual drunk or in
oxicated. I do not think that I ever
ravelled a hundred miles in New York
vithout seeing a drunkard. I have not
eard from one of the laboring people an
)ath. I have not seen a quarrel or a fight
-in short, I have seen nothing to indicate
hat the people were not only strictly
noral, but religious. As for profanity, I
hink that there is not one quarter as much
,ven among gentlemen as among us. In
eality, if I hear a man swearing a good
leal, I have come to look upon him as a
'fellow citizen," and am pretty sure to
ind him a Northerner. The SamSa
- , VuiKruptS, for
;ers, swindlers, public defaulters, and I
hink in one instance a common thief.
5he has sent to her State legislature coin
oon rowdies, blacklegs, gamblers, debau
hees and drunkards. Her representa
ives and legislators are notoriously im.
noral and disreputable men. Not all, of
ourse, but a good share of them. The
bolition districts between Albany and
luffalo have done the worst, but all have
een bad enough. Her office seekers
ave been greater in number than all the
tates South of her put together, her de.
nulters more numerous and her office
elders worse men than anywhere in the
Jnion. She has had more government
atronage and done more government
windling than a!l the Southern States put
ogether. Yet amid it all and with It all
er chief demagogue and head devil gets
p in the Senate and preaches to others
ipon their obligations to a "higher lawv."
suppose the fact will be got over soe
ow or some way by the devil's imps, but
should like to see them try it.
" Nowv turn to South Carolina or Geor
~ia ; where do you find a man notoriousa
y immoral elected to arty resp~onsible or
onorable office 1 Such a thing has never
reen known. On the contrary, a man
vhose private character in South Caroli
a is not above reproach cannrot be elect
d to office, They are quick and impet
ions and ready to resent an irnjury or an
nsult with the sword, but there is nonte
f that underhanded, sly, calculating,
reacherous, assassin-like way of creeping
bround and taking advantage or a man's
onfidence to stab him, nor of the pick
ocket plan of waiting for a "good
hance" to rob him. If~ we turn from
heir pub~lic men to those in the ordinary
valks of life, the comparison is quite as
nuch in their favor. One example is
nough for my purpose. In the city of
Jolumbia, S. C., you cani go at any time
f night to the public market and find
neat hanging in all the butchers' stalls
mtirely unprotected by dogs, watchmen
r locks. One might take down a steak
r a roasting piece or a whole quarter of
eef and carry it off and the owner would
e none the wiser.' But it is not done.
['he negroes are not allowed to be out
Lfter eight o'clock, and white folks don't
teal. They respect not only the higher
)nt the lower law. Dare Gov. Seward's
>ious followers, Goss and Sartwell, for
nstance, trutst their property in Auburn,
ingruaded, after night fall? If they
lare, their neighbors dare niot. As for
cburglary, larceny, rob~bery, forgery and
ther States prison oirences, they area
nest unknown here: there is not one t~o
Imndred hrv New York. Howv thenm in the
race of these facts can it bo said that sla
rerv has an immoral tendlencyi I haive
not locked my trunk, for I have lost the
key, or room door since I have been here.
I hae slept in a room at a hotcl with
gentlemen- who have-lkid thei' gold' wat
ches on the mantel shelf and hung, their
coats with hundreds of dollars in the poc
kets on the chairs,. and gone to bed with
out evet sliifting the door. A feeling of.
confld'ence and security. exists. which I
have never se-en- before in any commu;
A Rich Mai.
A correspondent in the Richmond Whig
gives some interesting items concerning tfie'
richest man in Virginia.- Mr. Samuel Itair
ston, of Pittaylvanin, is the gentleman. Two'
years ago he was the owner of betweeffd
teen and seventeen hundred slaves, in lis.
own right, having but a little while before tW
ken a census.. He has also' a prospectire'
right to about one thousand slaves more
which are now owned by his mother-in-law,
Mrs. Ruth Hairston,- he' having married liar
only chi. lie now has the management of
them, which makes the number of his'slaves
reach near three thousan& They increase
at the rate- of one thousand every year, and
he' has to purchase a large plantation every
year to' settle them on. A large number of
his plantations ate in Henry and Patrick
counties, Virginia. He has large. estates fin
North Carolina. His landed property ink
Stokes alone is assessed at six hundred' thou''
sand doliars. Ilis wealth is differently esti
mated at from three to five millions..
would think he has a hard lot;.Nft Nr. Hait-'
ston manages all his matters.as easy as mot
persons would an estate of ten thousand dolk
lars. He has overseers who ate compel'esdto
give him a written statement of what is madE'
and pent on each plantationindhls negrees AP
are all clothed and fed fom his own doeas
tic manufacture and raising, leaving is t&
bacco crop, which is immnsely li'fge, is o
much clear gain every year,' bsmi his in-'
crease in negroes, which is a forta'ie of itelt
His residence is on a scale correspbAd9 'ir
his wealth, at least as regards his. gaidealse
grounds, &c., which are said to be very-beaW
ne, I'm in arnest."
A crisis is riz! And it is wakin up the'
free onterrified suvrins of these ere did
more survrin States to the reskew!
There's a musterin of nations,
A wakin up of snalces'
The devil's broken out agial
And all erealion shakes,
fir view of this alarming state of ar-'
fairs, Ethati Spike conjures his fellow
citizens of Hornby to come to the rescue,
and concides his eloquent appeal with
this emphatic sentence.-" On! then, fel.
ler-citizens" says the speaker-Onwards!
and let the ivatchward be-" Webster,
howman rites, and d-n a nigger!" We
understand that Mr. Spike goes for Unioir
without regard to office neither being a
candidate for President or Vice President.
A VARNiNG Vcat.i.-/Jle I1on. James
K. Paulding, one of the wvisest and purest
men of this country concludes one of his'
recent communications to the Southern'r
Press under the signature of " A Northerrr
man and at friend to the Union" with this
solemn and emphatic warning: A
" I have lived almost fmursco're years, I
have passed throgh every grade of lify
from that of a poor boy,. self-educated
and seif-dependant to a station among the
highest of the larfd whfelr I attained
trithout the sacrifice of nmy Independence.
" During the whole of this pilgrimage,
I have been fromt habit and inclination'
conversant with books, anrd have thus4
added to tiio experience of a long lire thy
lessons of the past; and from this experi~
once, and those lessouis, I am inevitabI'
1sro'ught to the conviction that the people'
of the South have irow nothing to deend
on for their futuro safety but. tr~ted
action in self-defence. By this they will
presorte themnsefves and the Uniouy. AlF
other hopes are idle all other expedients
but daggers turned against their own
bosoms. They must assert their owa
rights, and protect themselves, for threy
have no other protectors. The brand of
fanaticism is applied to the homes of the
people, and must be quenched now or
never. Time tcas-time is-but 6ime
will soon be no more."
S, C. COLLEGE.-It wil bM gratifying
to the friends of this cherished institution
of our State to be informed da~t the health
of the President, Col. Preston, is gradual-.
ly but steadily imiproving,- even under the
pressure of duties unrelaxed and unin
terrupted. A ware of the great interest
felt throughout the State on this subject,
the information is imparted at the present
time, amd we doubt not it will be received
A LITrL boy hearing his father say
" There is a time for all things," climbed
up behind his mother's chair, and, wihis
poring in her ear, asked--" When w~as
the proper time for hooking sugar out of
thn sugar bowl!I"