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"We will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of our liberties, and if it must fall, we will Perish amidst the Ruins."
w. F. DURISOE & SON, Proprietors. EDGEFIELD -S C., APRIL 11, 1. - -
NEOS EPISCOPOS, Editor.
Ix prosecuting the enquiry in our last
issbe, let us ask why it is that there is so
much of earth and so little of heaven in the
conversation of Christian people t " Let
,your conversation be in heaven," says an
Apostle, " whence also ye look for the Sa.
vior." But so far as intercourse with Church
.members goes, in this particular, it would
be difficult to ascertain from it whAt posi.
-tion they occupy. In the olden time they that
feared the Lord spoke often one to another,
-on things pertaining to the desolation or
prosperity of the Church. But in this age
-of wordly progress, spiritual conversation
forms a very small part of a professing
Christian's communication with his brethren
-or others. Those desiring to engage in it
-rarely meet with any encouragement from
those to whom advances are made, and
hence, instead of " growing in grace and in
the knowledge of ouir Lord and Savior Jesus
Christ," there is very generally manifested a
sad declension in spirituality among those
who at the start seemed to "run well." And
not only do these remarks apply to the daily
intercourse of the brotherhood, but even at
the Church, on the Lord's day, except when
the stated services are going on, may be
seen groups on the steps or under the shade
trees in the Church yard, engaged in the
discussion of matters which tend but little
to the welfare of the soul or to the pros.
perity of religion. A hundred changes are
rung on the state of the weather and the
prospect for the crops. Many sage expres
sions of opinion are given in regard to the
probable results of the Eastern War, the
certainty of the acquisition of Cuba, afid
the dark designs of the Know Nothings.
Anything but Christ and heaven seems to
meet with attention and interest. Well, not
to extend this article, one of the causes, per.
haps the chief cause of this state of things,
is the very geieral neglect of the rending of
the Holy Scriptures. Men read the news
papers, they get interested in the things
they treat of, and hence, when they meet
together, they. are at no loss in talking about
them. But let the great, the transcendantly
important topics of Revelation be intro.
duced, and at once there's an embarrassment
manifested, the conversation flags and must
either thange or stop. As respects the deep
things-aye, and the simple things too-of
the Book of God, the great majority of the
Church, we say it in kindness, may be called
Know Littles, with much more propriety,
than can the term used to designate it be
applied to that wide spread political party
which affects ignorance of everything. And
in the hope of soon presenting to our readers
the importance of the study of the Scrip
tures, and of giving them from time to time
some thoughts on the wonders which they
reveal, wve commend the above to their
A prominent trait in the human character
is the importance it attaches to genealogical
descent. He who can trace his pedigree a
fewv generations back is apt to regard him
self and to be regarded by others a man of
some consequence, as one descended from
an " ancient house." This is especially the
case, wvhen in its course the line of succes
sion exhibits a tin'ge of aristocratic blood,
or encounters some extraordinary personage
who has left an impress on the ago in which
he lived; and the farther back the lineage
runs, the stronger the claim to honorable
In matters ecclesiastic, the same propensi
ty is manifested, the chief difference being
that denominational is substituted for indi
vidual claim, and identity of principle isI
urged as the connecting medium. -Hence it
is that every religious party in christen.
dom, or nearly so, has proved conclusively,
(to itself at least) its relationship to the
prominent sects which have appeared at dif
ferent ages of the Christian era: as the
.ovatians, Waldenses, &c., &c.; and also
shown as clearly that the orthodor fathers
-were the exponents of its views; whilst a
number of chains of succession through
Popes, Bishops, Church government and or
,dinances have been made to reach the
-" keys" which were committed to the fisher.
man of Gallilee. Among the rest, the Church
.mith which we are associated, whilst she
-discaa all belief in the importanc of the
thing, hsas yet been at some pains to show
that her rights to this high succession rela
tionship are not to be disregarded.
Now it is our opinion that her pretensions
are, to say the least, quite as good as any
other. Yet being persuaded that none of
them can be in every respect satisfactorily
established, and regarding it of no special
consequence that they should, we don't knowv
but that it would be as well to withdraw
the claim, and make an effort to resemble as
;nearly as ,possible, the model given us in
-the New Testament. In travelling the i-oad
'of succession back to the Apostles, we
should be likely to find some chasms over
'which it wonld be difficult to throw a bridge,
so that we at last should have to use the
wings of faith and fly over them. And in
the " chain" of succession, there are several
links of such .questionable temper and
strength, that the safer course would be to
lay hold upon the Hook to which it is fas
tened-or, to vary the figure and employ the
sublime language of the Scripture, let us in
coming to Christ and hearing his words, be
like the man that built his house upon a
rock. He that does this shall never be
moved. The Church that does this cannot
be unsettled from its foundation by the
shocks which will shake this old world to
pieces, whilst that which is built upon the
sandy foundation of human tradition, or the
expositions of erring men, will be under
mined and blown away by the storm of
judgment which will fall upon it.
We think that both reason and the Scrip.
tures justify the position, that if the Church
as an organized body had ceased to exist for
years together, a body of believers, with the
Bible in their hands, could form an associa
tion possessing all the elements of an eccle
siastical organization; and this is the ground
)n which we contend thit an apostolic suc
ession is not important to the existence of
Lhe Church here, to the individual enjoyment
of the blessings of Christianity, and to the
attainment in heaven of the glory which
survives the wreck and the decay of earth
to the entering upon an " inheritance on
high, undefiled and that fadeth not away,
eternal in the heavens."
Come away from the charms of the world's gaudy
Come, conic away, 0 come, come away,
From the gilttering tinsel of beauty's bright glow.
The thoughtless, the heartless, the gay.
0 linger no longer in faney's charm'd bowers,
Whereptrfumes distil from deception's sweetflowers;
ut come to the hearts of the loving and true
Come, come away, coni away!
Come away from companious that lead thee from
Come, come away, 0 come, come awav!
[n the ways of detructioni theyll caous
Whose feet wander far, far estray.
Forgetful of God and unmindful of h
rhey scorn the blest hope that thro' J
rhen come to the home of the peaceft
Come, come away, Come away!
ome away from the false light of ft
Come, come away, 0 come, come away!
rho' her temple be gorgeous, her promises fair,
Your trust she but seeks to betray.
Tia a beacon of evil to tempt thy poor soul
ro the rocks where the billows of wrath ever roll;
But conic to the light that illumes heaven's way
Come, come away, come away.
WILLIAM CAREY.-One of the deputation
f the Boston Baptist Board to Burmah,
Rev. Dr. GRANGER, thus refers to his visit to
the former home and the grave of CAREY:
"In the library, I did not ask for CAREY's
botanical specimens. In fact I forgot them.
But they showed me what inter.ested me
more, some of his manuscript works. There,
for example, wvas his Sanserit Dictionary, in
five huge folios of about. seven hnndred pa.
ges each. There w as his Bengalic Dictiona
ry, in manuscript, and other large works,
any of which would have given any other
man a world-wide reputation. Carey's own
writing in Oriental characters is so neat and
perfect, page after page, without an erasure
or a blot, that one has to examine closely
to convince himself that it is not printed.
As I surveyed these huge tomes, and thought
of the Herculean labors of the .man who
learned thirty-eight languages that he might
translate the Holy Scripture into them; as I
thought of his want of early classical train
ing ; as I thought of his labors as a profes
sor in the Government College, and transla
tor for Government, and as superintendent
of an indigo factory one hundred miles from
this, all which secular work he undertook
that he might raise funds to carry on his
mission work, I stood amazed at the cour
age, boldness, and success of the man. God's
grace gave the impulse. " Eustace, I can
plod," shows the method of this, the most
wonderful man of his age."
MAN was made for society. Alone he is
wretched ; without communion with intelli
gent beings, he cannot be happy. Man, in
his best estate, needs his fellowv-man to rejoice
with him in his prosperity ; and in hours of
gloom and sorrow, he requires those to
whom lie can make known his complaints
and tell the miseries of his bleeding heart.
Aye, he needs the sympathies of kind friends,
who shall, in a measure, enter into the cir
cumstances of this life, and feel and bear a
portion of his woe.
The Scriptures recognize this principle.
Hence it is said, no man liveth to himself
and no man dieth to himself. We are re
quired not to rejoice, but to weep wvith those
who weep. Our great Exemplar wvent to
the house of mourning; he ministered com
fort to the distressed ; he gave the weary
and heavy .laden rest ; and offered consola
tion to those who were bereft by affliction
and death. There is nothing man can do
that is more alleviating to the troubled spirit,
than to extend to the crushed heart these
Christian sympathies which are commended
in the wvord of God. A kind word, a tender
look, a gentle act, showing the feeling of a
generous and sympathizing heart, is like oil
upon the troubled -waters, dewv upon the
crushed flower, or rain upon the thirsty
earth. If we could properly appreciate the
amount of good we might accomplish, the
joy we nlight impart, and the grief wve might
assauge, we would not be slow in going for
swift in the exercise of Christian sympathy,
and would more frequently realize the luxury
of doing good.-Christian Advocate.
TiE curative effect of faith is illustrated
by the statement communicated recently to
the public, by Dr. Alcott. as narated to him
by a Methodist clergyman. The latter
states that a young woman in extremely
feeble health, came to the belief that if lie
were to pray with her she would recover.
After much hesitation he concluded to make
an experiment-encouraged the invalid with
the promise that he would soon gratify her
wish, visited her to prepare her mind for the
exercise; and when the hour at length ar
rived, a good deal of parade and form was
made, as if to give the mind more time to
look at the subject, and the heart more time
to fasten its faith on the great.Prayer.hearer
and Prayer-answerer. When the prayer
could be delayed no longer, he knelt solemn.
ly by her bedside, and prayed most fervently
and earnestly for her recovery. From this
hour forth it is said she began to recover,
and in an almost miraculously short time,
WHEN worthy men fall out, only one of
them may be faulty-at the first ; but if strife
continue long, commonly both become guil.
THE BLACKSMITH'S TRIAL.
BY AUSTIN C. BURDICK.
IN the fall of 1849, 1 was travelling in
the West on business. I left the Mississippi
steamboat at Columbia, Ky., having made
up my mind to travel by land as far as
Muhlenburg county, where I should strike
the Green River far enough to the northward
to take one of the small flat boats for the
Late one evening I arrived at the town of
M- , intending- to take the stage from
there on the next morning. The liar-room
of the tavern was crowded with people, and
I noticed that large numbers of the citizens
were collected about the street corners, ap
pearing to be discussing some matter of
more than usual interest.
Of course I became curious to know tho
cause of all this, and at the first favorable
opportunity, I asked thp ~
arouna me, and by simply listening, I gained
an insight into the mystery. It seemed that
there was to be a trial for murder there on
the next day, and that the criminal was a
young blacksmith, who had been born and
brought up in the town, and who, until the
present time, had borne a character above
I endeavored to find out the particulars,
but I could ascertain but lit'le upon which
to depend, for different people gave different
accounts, anid all who knew anything of the
matter were too much excited to speak
calmly. The murder had transpired only
about a week before, and consequently the
event was fresh in the minds of people.
The only facts that came to me, upon
which I could rely, were that a middle aged
man, named Matthew Hampton, had been
murdered and robbed, and that Abel Adams,
the young blacksmith, had been arrested for
the crime, and yvould be tried on the morrow.
Some said that the murdered man's money,
to the amount of over two thousand dollars,
had been found on the young man's person;
others denied this statement. Yet all sym
pathized with the prisoner. He, was beloved
by all his towvnsmen, and but a few of themi
could believe anything of the reports that
had crept into circulation.
As I was in no particular haste, I resolved
to remain in M- until the trial had come
off, so I went and erased my name from the
stage book where I had placed it, and themn
informed mine host of my determination.
On the following morning, at an early
hour, the people began to flock towards the
court.house, and [ saw that if I would secure
a place I must join the crowd. I did so, and
at length found myself within the building,
and, as good fortune would have it, 1 made
a standl near the prisoner's box. Ten o'clock
was the hour fixed for the opening of the
court, and before that time every standing
place outside the dock was filled. Stagings
were erected upon the outside under the
windows, but these, too, were crowded.
At the appointed time the court came in,
and the prisoner was conducted to the box.
Said prisoner was not more than five-and
twenty years of aige. He possessed one of
the most pleasing countenances I ever saw.
It wvas one of those bold, frank faces, full of
courage and good nature-just such a one
as is unhesitatingly taken as the index of a
pure and generous soul. He was a stout,
athletic mani, and carried the palm at every
wrestling-match in the country.
I thought within myself, this man is no
murderer. And yet we know not to wvhat
extremities a man may be driven. Young
Adams wvas quite pale, and his nether lip
quivered as he found the gaze of the multi
tuded.ixed on him; but his eye was bright
and quick, but not defiant, yet bold. and
hopeful in its deep blue light.
The trial commenced. The complaint
was clear and distinct, setting forth the fact
that the prisoner, A bel Adams, " did with
malice aforethought," kill, etc., on such a
day on atthew Hlampton-in the first
pae bys srking him on the head with some
blunt-weapon-and in the second place by
stabbing him in the breast, etc. To all this
the prisoner pletded "niot guilty." Fromt
the first testimony called up I learned tlie
Near sundown one afternoon about a
week previous, Matthewv Hampton stopped
at the shop of the prisoner to get his
hors s.h This Hampto was a wealh
farmer, and his estatA lny to the southward
near the Tennessee line, and only about
fifteen miles from M--. He was known
to have had some two thousand dollars with
him at that time-money which lie had re
ceived at Columbia for corn. It was nearly
dusk when he started from the prisoner's
shop. He took out his pocket-book to pay
for the job of shoeing*his horse. This he
did within the shop, and two persons were
present who testified to the fact, and also
that when the pocket-book was opened, a
large binch of bank hotes were exposed.
About an hour after Hampton left, the pri
soner came out of his shop and went to his
'able, and having saddled his fleetest horse,
e mounted and starte#at a full gallop, in
the direction which fIatpton had taken.
Next came two wipesses, " Mr. Simple
and Mr. Jordan," both of them respectable
citizens of M-, whtestified as follows:
They had been in tFp edge of Tennessee
on business, and were returning home. At
about nine o'clock, on:the evening in ques.
they came to the point, in the road where a
high bluff overlooked the way; and while
passing this, they were startled by seeing
something in the m0olight which looked
like a man. They at 6nce dismounted, and
tound that which they had seen was the
body of Matthew Hampton, all gore cover
ed and bleeding. They had not been there
more than a minute, when they were joined
by a third man, who said that lie saw the
murder commited, and, that the murderer
fled towards M-.
Simple and Jordan -both recognized this
new coiner as one t ilger, and though
his character was . means of the most
exemplary character, that was no time
for discussion. The bedy of Hampton was
still warm; so that themnurderer could not
have been gone long. Pilger had no horse,
so Simple agreed to - remain by the body
whileJordan and Bilger went in pursuit of the
murderer. They put tWeir horses to the top
of their speed, and in- half an hour they
overtook the prisoner, whom Bilger at once
pointed out as the man.. Jordan hailed the
young blacksmith, and Tound him nervous
and excited. He then asked him if he had
seen IMatthew Hampton, and Adams replied
in the affirmative, but h spoke in a very
strange manner. After some expostulation
the prisoner accompanied Jordan to M---,
and there he was placed in the hands of the
sheriff, and upon exomining his person, Mr.
At length Henry Bilger was upon the
stand. He was known by most of the peo
ple of M--, and though nothing positive
was known against him of a criminal nature,
yet he was known to he a reckless, wander
ing fellow, sometimes trading in slaves,
and sometimes dealing in horses, and some
times driving a flat down the Mississippi.
lHe stepped upon the witnesses' block with a
complaisant bow, and he gave his testimony
clearly aid distinctly.
He said he was coming down the road
toward NI- on foot and when near the
bluff lie heard a struggle, accompanied by
loud groans and entreaties. He sprang for
ward and arrived in season to see the prIson
er leap into his saddle and ride off. The
moon was shining at the time, so lhe could
not have been mistaken. As soon as he
found Mr. Hampton was, as he supposed,
dead, he started to go aifter help. The mur
dered man's horse fled towards, home, so he
could gain no assistance in that way. He
had nmot gene far, howvever, wvhen lhe heard
the sound of horses' feet and on returning to
the spot he found Simple and Jordan stand
Blilger wvas crossed-questioned very se
verely, but his testimony was not to be flaw
ed. He was very explicit in all his state
ments, and at the same time he professed to
feel a deep regret that he wvas called upon to
testify against a man for wvhom he felt as
much respect as he did for the prisoner.
At length young Adams arose to tell his
story. He spoke clearly and wvith the tone
of a man who tells the truth. He said that
about an hour after Matthewv Hampton had
left his shop, on the evening in question, he
went to .the sink to wash his hands, and
while there, he trod on something that at
tracted his attention. lHe stooped and pick
ed it up, and found it to be a pocket-book,
and on taking it to the light, it proved to be
Mr. Hampton's. He remembered that after
Mr. Hampton had paidh him for shoeing the
hose, lhe wvent to the sink after a drinik of
wa.er, and then he must have dropped the
book. The young blacksmith's first idea,
he said, wa's to keep the book until Hampton
came back, but upon the second thought, he
resolved to saddle his horse and try to over
take him and restore the money. According.
ly lhe set off, and when he reached the bluff,
his hor-se began to rear and snort. He dis
covered something laying by the road sitie,
and upon dismounting and going to it, he
found it to be the body of Mr. Hampton,
still wvarm anid bleeding. He first satistied
himself that he could do nothing alone, and
then he started back towards M- for as
sistance. When he was overtaken by Jor.
Idan and Bilger, the idea of having Hampton's
money with him, broke upon him with stun
ning force, and hence his strange and inco
When the prisoner sat down there w'as
low murmur which told himn that his story
was believed. But the judge shook hi!
head, and the lawyers did the same, and the
jury looked troubled and anxious. The pri
soner's counsel did all he could to establist
Ihis client's good character, and also to im.
peach the character of Bilger, but he d.ouk
not refute the testimony that had beer
When the judge came to charge the jury
ie spoke of the testimony against the prison
er, and of corroborative circumstances.
In regard to the prisoner's'story, he said thal
was very simple, .an d sounded very much
like the truth ; but he would have the jury
remember how easy such stories could be
It was long after dark when the jury re
tired to make up their verdict. They were
gone half an hour, and when they returned
the foreman showed by the hue of his coun
tenance that the verdict was fatal! All saw
it, and I could hear the throbbing of the
hundred hearts that beat about me.
"Gentlemen of the jury, have you. made
a verdict I"
"Shall your foreman speak for you ?"
"Abel Adams, stand up and look the
foreman in the face. Now, sir, is Abel
Adams, the prisoner at the bar, guilty of the
murder or not I"
Hark! The first syllable of the word,
"Guilty," is upon the foreman's lips, but he
speaks it not. Those who yet crowd about
the windows shout with all their might, and
in a moment more a man crowds his way
into the court room. He hurries up and
whispers to the judge. Henry Bilger starts
up and moves towards the door, but in an
instant the hand of the sheriff is upon him.
All is excitement the most intense. Direct
ly the mass at the door begins to give way,
and four men are seen bearing upon their
shoulders a chair-a large stuffed chair
and in that chair sits Matthew Hampton
not dead but alive. True he is pale and
his lips move. At length the chair is set
down before the bench, and the old physi.
cian of M- asks permission to speak.
As soon as this fact became known, all is
quiet once more.
The physician says that neither of the
wounds which Mr. Hampton had received is
mortal, 'though he at first thought they were.
Tho blow upon the head, and, the stab in
breast, combined to produce a case of cata
lepsy which resembled death so nearly that
many an experienced person might have
been deceived. When he gave out that Mr.
Hampton was dead, he thought it was so.
But when he found that Hampton was living
he kept the secret to himself, for fear that a
certain man, whose presence was much
needed, might be missing.
At this juncture, Mr. Henry Bilger made
a savage attempt to break away from the
sheriff, but did not avail him. The jury
were directed to return to their box, and
then Mr. Hampton was reauested to sneak.
moe roadside. He had just time to see that
it was Henry Bilger, when he received a
blow upon the head from a club that knock
ed him from his horse. Then he felt a sharp,
stinging, burning pain in the bosom, and
with a momentary starting of his muscles
he opened his eyes. He saw that Bilger
was stooping over him, and ransacking his
pockets. le could just remember of hear
ing the distait gallop of a horse-that lie
thought his body was being dragged-to the
roadside ; and after that he could remember
nothing till he awoke in hi! own house, and
found the doctor by his bedside.
For a little while longer the multitude
had to restrain themselves. I remember
that the judge said something to the jury,
and that the jury whispered together for
a moment, then the prisoner stood up
once more, and the foreman of the jury said,
Then burst forth the hearty shouts of the
people. Abel Adams sank back into his
seat, but in a moment more he was seized
by a score of stout men, and with wild and
rending shouts they bore him into the free,
pure air, where the bright stars looked dowvn
and smiled upon them. A little way had
they gone, when they. met a young woman
whose hair was floating in the night wind,
and who rung her hands in agony. They
stopped and set their burden down. Abel
Adams saw the woman, and sprang forward
and caught her to his bosom.
" Mary-Mary-i'm innocent-innocent
The wife did not speak. She only clung
wildly to her noble- husband and wept upon
A wvagon body was torn from its axeltree
-the blacksmith and his wife were placed
therein ; and then they were borne away
towards their home, and long after they
had passed from my sight, I could hear
the glad shouts of the impulsive people,
waking the night air, and reverberating
among the distant hills.
On the next morninlg,- before the stage
started, I learned that Matthewv Hampton
had determined to make the young lack
smith accept of one thousand dollars, wheth
er ho was willing or not.
Twvo weeks afterwvards while sitting in
the oflice of my hotel at Cincinnati, I re
ceived a newvspaper from M--; Henry
Bilger, had been hanged, and on the gallows
acknowledged his guilt. Matthewv H ampton
was slowly recovering, and the blacksmith
had, after much expostulation, accepted the
thousand dollars fr-om Hampton's bounty.
A w~oman will cling to the chosen object
of her heart like a possum to a gum tree,
and you can't separate her without snapping
strings no art can mend, and leaving a por
tion of her soul upon the upper leather of
your affections' She will sometimes see
something to love where others will see noth
ing to admire: and when her fondness is
once fastened on a fellowv, it sticks like glue
and molasses in a bushy head of hair.
" Cosa, I wants to ask you a conomdri
" Well, Pomp, pureced, and 'spress yer.
" Why is a colt getting broke like a young
lady getting married i Guve that up?"
" Yes, I guvo that up " fore you ax it."
"Kase he is going through a bridal cere
*TH NEW POSTAGE LAW.
The new postage law passed at the recent
session of Congress, went into operation on
the 1st inst. The following are its provi
sions, to which attention must be paid by
those mailing- letters. It will be seen that
unless the postage is pre-paid no letter will
be sent from the office in which it is depos
That from and after April 1st, 1855, the
single rate of postage on a letter conveyea
in the mail for any distance between places
in the United States not exceding three thou.
sand miles, is three cents; and for any dis
tance exceeding three thousand miles, ten
That from and after April 1st, 1855, pre
payment, either by stamps, stamped envel.
opes or in money, is compulsory.
That from and after January 1st, 1856,
all letters between places, in the United
States must be prepaid, either by postage
stamps, or stamped envelopes.
The existing rates and regulations in re
gard to letters to or from Canada and all
other foreign countries remain unchanged.
Absolute pre-payment being required on
all letters to places within the United States
from and after April 1st, 1855, great care
should be used, as well in pre-paying the
proper amount on letters above the weight
of half an ounce as on a single letter.
The provisions in regard to the registra
tion of valuable letters will be carried into
effect and special instructions issued on the
subject as soon as the necessary blanks can
be prepared and distributed.
The following explanatory instructions in
relation to the operation of the new law
have also been issued by the Post Office
1. The act of 3d March, 1855, making no
provision for unpaid letters to places within
the United States, on the same or day fol
lowing any such unpaid letter or letters be
ing put into a Post Office, the Postmaster
thereof will post up conspicuously in his
office a list of the same, stating that they are
held for postage. If not attended to, such
letters must be returned monthly to the Dead
2. Letters part paid should be dispatched,
charged with the additional postage due at
the prepaid rate aceording to the distance,
established by said act, except where the
omission to pay the correct amount is known
tn hzm4VA han n
paid rate according to distance, established
by the act of March 3, 1855, aforesaid.
4. -Ship letters, as they cannot be prepaid,
and are not supposed to be embraced in the
new act, will continue to bo despatched
agreeably to the provisions of thn fifteenth
section of the act of. March 3, 1825.
H1ooNs TO THE LATE hZtPEROR OF Rus
st.4.-A letter from Berlin, Prussia, says:
" The death of Nicholas has made a pro
found impression on the court of Berlin, and
particularly on the king, who is reported to
have been for some time in a state border
ing on frenzy. Unusual honors are paid to
the memory of the deceased, all the thea
tres are closed, and the whole Prussian army
is put in mourning. Quito a mob of princes
and princesses are passing through this city
for St. Petersburg, to express their sympa
thy with the bereaved family, and to be
present at the funeral, which, it is expected,
will soon be followed by that of the Em
press, w~ho has been for years in a most deli
cate state of health, and will probably not
long survive heri husband."
Tua COURAGE TO DO RIGUT.-What
more noble attribute of our nature than to
do right, the fearlessness of truth, crucify
ing to the obligations which it imposes, al]
hypocrisy, every principile which militates
against the advance of the ::oul.
The mere recognition of wrong is as
much the ability of a wvise man as that of a
fool, and vice versa; but he who is indeed
wise, thinks not when that recognition teach
es him wvisdom. The fool stumbles at the
threshold of light. He shuts his eyes to the
picture that light affords of the true proper
ties of his mind. By its low desires, its
unhallowed pleasure, he is ever incited tc
delay all self-examination, and to flatter him
self that in his disguise there can be no de.
Alas ! that that nature which is hound tc
progress by its own origin, which claims
connection wvith God, ever should perveri
the bright properties which that origin has
conferred, from its uprooted progression tc
a consort with things of earth, to a unioi
of matter- without the spirit.
But joy, unspeakable joy, when true to its
relationship with eternity,- true to its truth
and integrity, true to its innate promptings,
the soul claims to be heard against even: itself;
and boldly chastises when wrong has beer
done; when conscious that its errors have
been of its own choice, it applies, without
shr'inking, the jnst deserts wvhich reason de
A CITY BANKRUPT.--he City of Phila
delphia has applied to the State Legislature
for a temporary lokn, as an immediate neces
sity. The Pennsylvanian says the amouni
required by the City, to place her finances
in even a respectable condtion, is one il
lion and a half of dollars.
A sporting gentleman' in Newv York offers
to bet a large amount that during the com
ing summer he will drive from the Astor
House to Union Square in a light wagon
drawn hy rats. Hie calculates that he car
accomplish the task with one hundred rat!
A single pound of flax thread, intended
for the finest specimens of France Lace, is
valued at six hundred dollars, and th'e lengtl
of the thread is about two hundred ani
twenty six miles. One pound of this threat
is more valuable than two nnnnds of gold
JEROME BONAPARTE GOING TO FRARCE,
The Baltimore correspondent of the Wash
ington Star says:
I learn that our much esteemed townsman
Jerome Bonaparte, will leave in the course of
a few weeks for France, w lere it is his pur
pose to reside permanently, after due ar
rangements shall have been made. His
present designs, however is to visit Paris and
make arrangements for a future residence
there with his family. It may be known to
our readers that he became a citizen ,of
France on his last visit, and if I mistake not
had titled honors conferred upon him.
Young Jerome, his son, is now at the Cri.
mea, holding a lieutenant's commission in
the French army, with prospects of promo.
tion, if successful in a military career, not
only to high rank, but even to the imperial
throne. There is a wonderful magic in the
name of Bonaparte with the French nation;
and no one can tell, should fortune smile,
discovering at the same time Napoleon ge
nius and talent in this young man, to what
degree of eminence he may rise. There is
a wide and inviting field before him, with
chances of placing himself upon the throne
of France. Such an event may be remote
but it is within the range of probabilities.
He always bore a high reputation here, and
was marked by nature for his amiablene~s
of character, together with firmness, bravery
It will be a matter of regret to lose from
among us so valuable and highly esteemed
a citizen as Monsieur Bonaparte, but the
residue of his days may possibly be passed
more agreeably in-a country where he stands
so nearly related to nobility, and where his
very name is a spell word. Should advirse
circumstances, however, occur at the Cri
mea to thwart the hopes and prospects of
his son, a different course may be pursued.
Lady Bonaparte is a native of Baltimore, a
plain republican, and to find herself amidst
the royal or imperial family may prove a sa
perd home in the city of rhonuments.
We t*ake this time, when our words will
not be applied to any special case, to state
our views on the subject of newspaper quar,
rels. We have never taken notice-of any
of our cotemporaries when they have assail
ed or misrepresented us in their columns,
for we believe the readers of our paper do
* ... Gwl havO sautigtid Ill a pauunL
controversy, and at its close could truly say -
that they had neither lost their self-respect
nor fallen in. the estimation of judicious
friends. We believe that at the close of the
editorial career of those who in times past
have conducted partisan papers, either re
ligious or political, the best men of the num.
ber have looked back upon their personal
quarrels and newspaper squabbles with those
of rival parties or different sects as the least
profitable portion of their lives. The men
tal vitriol they have thrown upon their oppo
nents has irritated, corroded,. and poisoned
their own hearts. A war of words is to be
avoided if possible; and where it takes two
to fight, the wisest course is to follow the
sacred injunction, " to leave off contention
before it is meddled w.ith." A quaint Eng
lish writer has, with great truth, compared
a quarrelsome, aggressive disputant to a
volcano; the lighter portions of what it
vomits forth are dissipated by winds; the
heavier ones fall back into the throat wvhence
they were disgorged. Whatever other offen
ces we may commit, we mean never to have
a newspaper quarrel; and whether our daily
oontemporaries throw a squib, or the wveekly
journals level a heavy column at us, we shall
meet it all with what Charles Lamb styled
"the primitive discourser"-silence.-Bos
OUT DOOR ExERCS.-lt is owing mainly
to their delight in out door exercise that the
elevated classes in England reach a particu
lar age, notwithstanding their habits of high
living, of late hours, of wine drinking, and
many other health destroying agencies; the.
deaths of their. generals, their lords, their
earls and their dukes, are chronicled almost
every week, at 70, 80 and 90 years ; it is
because they will be on horseback, the most
elegant, rational and accomplished of all
forms of mere exercise, both for sons and
daughters. But the, whole credit of Ion-.
gevity in these classes, must not be given to
their love of field sports, it must be divided
wvith the not less characteristic traits of an
English nobleman-he will take the world
easy ; and could we, as a people, persuade
ourselves to do the same thing habitually,
itswould add ten years to the average of hu-.
man life, and save many a broken heart, and
broken fortune, and broken construction.
-Hall's Journal of Health.
WoxZAN's RIGHTs IN ILLIYOI.-The 01l
'lowing resolution was adopted by the H-ouse
of Representatives of the illinois Jaegisla
Resolved, That a fine of $500 be here
after imposed on any lady w~ho shall lecture
in public in any part of the State, without
first putting on gentlemen's apparel.
THE Knoxville Whig says: John Mitchell
known as the Irish patriot, reached our city last
week, and took rooms at the Coleman House.
He has a wife and five children, and comes to
settle in this vicinity permanently, as he inform~s
us. His wish is to purchase a farm, net far
from this city. Mr. Mitchell is a small man,
rather spare made, and is, we should say, about
forty years of age. He is genteel in his dress,
rather easy in his manners, and in the absence
of any information on that point, we should say
he has been well raised. We see nothing inli
face indicative of' superior talents, and--in his
conversation he is mild and prudent, so far as
our observation extends.
lHe that hath no money bdedeth no purse.