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0~celuotatk 30urmal, DerJotta to tlje Souty anIa Soutljrn fliglyts, oibits, Catest Jtems, Citerature, m*oraitI, Eemernce, rikuffure &c
We -will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of ouWrlberties, and I it must fall, ve will Perish amidst the Ruls."
SIlIKINS, DVIERISOE & CO., Proprietors. DIJU..EFIELD, S. Ck., AECEMBER 23, 1857.
From the Mississippian.
TEE BUGLE HORN.
The Bugle Horn-the Bugle Horn
Pealing merrily, loud and clear,
So freshly sounding through the lawn,
Swelling its silver notes of cheer,
From hill to dale, the echoes fly
-4 To where the sun rise gilds the morn
To valley low, to vaulted sky.
Ring thrilling strains from Bugle Horn;
As chanticleer, with notes of gleo,
Bids darkness down in shrilly peals,
Fast hies, the sports man glad and free,
Through boagy fens and heather fields.
The Bugle Horn, in numbers deep,
Then echoes through the dewy lawn,
As yelping Fox-dogs onward leap,
- Inspired by the Bugle Horn.
When twilight shades of purple huo
Spread round pale Lana, newly born,
-And but one star peeps through the blue,
The suppliant hails the Bugle IHorn;
Wen -im bright islands in a sea,
gt a d sars the syes adorn,
The nugni I tI~er joyously
-. ---O e ofBugle Horn.
7t mae .A d -d,
A on, he filesro le~fi s ]
;The foaming steed ploughs. t
3 fast3 am kied; A
And o' e oat the bridge Is drawn,
As tesaloud are rung, -
m: the ppoud chieftain's Bugle Horn.
- The burthened,coih of many a. Vacki K
-it proudly heralds to the stand,
.1Binging the wearf traveler back,
And missives grea6fr.foreign land;
Bearing to sduie,-the ladath sea,
Ma];i .-ad he.arts,. still more forlorn,
An others, joys to feel,
them bless, Bugle'Iorn.
The omujVe hrn'I.lovo te* rain,
Though wlifing, comes to'me4be sound,'
- 6 ~makes idublrife in
Qs ?Vfu th ait r round
06 de, .
The liour I was a onny
Spring up at sound of.Bugle Horn.
The festive throng, the Jubilce
Are gladdened by its stirring voice,
It sets the Hebrew captive free,
And bids his mournful soul'rejoice.
A Bugle Horn loud, long and clear
The dead shall wake when time is gone,
Oh, may we then, with joy appear,
When sounds that last dread Bugle Horn.
BE GENTLE TO THY WIFE.
Be gentle-for you little know
How many trials rise;
Although to thee they may be small,
To her of giant size.
Be gentle-though perchance that lip
May sppak a murmuring tone.
The ficart may speak with kindness yet,
And joy to be thy own'
Be gentle-weary hours of pain
'Tis woman1 lot to bear;
Then yield to her what e'er thou canst,
And all her sorrows share.
Be gentle-for the noblest hearts
And times must have some grief;
A t even in a pettish word,
May seek to find relief.
Be gentle-none arc pierfect here
Thou'rt dearer far than life;
*Then husband, bear, and still forbear ;
Be gentle to thy wife !
From Godey's Lady's Book.
TIHE D)AY AFTER CHIRISTMAS,
BY CLARA AUGUST.
T is the day after Christmas. 'The snow and
raiu which fell yesterday cover the gaunt skele
ton trees with a frosting of silver, and the ice
*laden branches moan and shriek mt the wid
strong wind. The icicles hang from thehiaggy
cjaves of our old homestead, and the loose
snow whirls against the windows with a (lull
sort of groan. The lend of coldi and gloom is
abroad upon the earth-, andl the ruddy lire-glow
- in the pojished grate fails to dissipate hisshadows.
I have tried to work, but the cold benumibs
my fingers, and satin~ stitch has become con
fo)unded with eyelet. I have tried reading, but
ithe wild rushing of the wmnds im the pine woods
-andi in the greatlicafless elus in the garden dis
turbs mem, and mny thoughts nre away from the
-book to) im m orfLifIW o.f the misty past-to
days when, though cold and dre'ary without,
within all wvas bright and cheerful, warmed by
the smiles of love and lighted by the words of
Years ago I was a inerry school-girl, unmind
ful of earth's sorrow, and laughing at what
worldlings call care. Like tuost other young
girls, I had an intinate friend of my own sex,
not a couniJante, for mny thoughts and emotions
have never been entrusted to the keeping of any
one. I~vrhees I had a friend; one whom 1
loved--one who loved me in return.
Annie GJrahtaml was exactly may opposite both
inl person and disposition. While I was by na
-ture courlageo~us, fearing nothing, and depending
upon mnyself~ in :all emergent cases, she was tim
id and fearful; doing nothmng without ~advice,
and even then trembling for the issue.
I was a brunette, with a wild, restless eye,
and mouth which plainly betrayed my unmfemi
nine firmness. Annie w-as a p~ale, fragile blonde,
.with mild, loving 'eyej, and a profusion of suxny
hair, which fell in graceful tresses on her white
alI oulders.- It was her very unlikeness to my
self which bound my heart to hers. If gh a
frightened, I took her in my armas and soothed
her; if she was sad, I laughed at her forebod
ings; if shyp was gay, I chided her for her
thoughtleInneg;s in short, I was a perfect tyrant
over her; 'andbet I loved Annie Graham with
an affeElion strong and sincere.
We fat became acquainted at school, where
we were room-mates, and very happily on:time
pased;) ams happy ~That some one depended
..upoa me; she., that she had some one to depend
We had been two 'years at school, and thi
summer vacation was at hand. Annie was t<
go home, and I t0, stop- at a brother's, som
twenty miles from the seminary. Annie's homi
was in the blooming South, many leagues away
and with doting fondness she clung to my necl
when we parted. I kissed her sweet lips veri
calmly, and put her away from me. One genth
tearful look, and she was gone.
Two weeks at my brother's, and I received o
letter from her. A transcript of her own purt
heart it was-gentle and loving like herself.
There was a full account of her homeward jour
ney, the blissful meeting with her parents and
brother, Philip; and then came a glowing de
scription of a visitor at her home, a friend ol
her brother Philip. Noble, dignified, and tal.
ented, she said he was, and of high birth and
I raad the letter through, but I did not lay it
down. A strange, undefinable feeling crept in at
my heart. Annie was well and happy; what more
did I ask? Shall I confess it? The whole un
divided love of Annie alone could satisfy my
jealous nature. I was envious of her affection
even to her own relatives; how could I calmly
hear her speak so warmly of one who was not
allied to her by ties of blood? I know that a
fancy with Annie was but a stepping stone to
love; and I felt that but a short time would
elapse ere my image would be torn from her
heart's altar, and that of the attractive stranger
placed there instead.
I replied to her letter, but said nothing of my
unworthy feelings; and in due time her answer
caie, warm-hearted as ever but breathing, un
consciously to herself, the deepest admiration
for the young friend of her brother. Wallace
Malcolm was his name, and he had been Philip
Graham's warmest friend at the university
wh'ere they had both -studied.
During the vacation, I received several letter.
from.Annie ,all full of love for myself, and ad
mhiration of young Malcolm.
At lastthe time for the re-assembling of the
school ami4,ed, and once'nore Annie and I were
sitting in our little chamber at- G. Annie had
drawn up the little -.ottoman to ry feet, and
laid her bright head on my knee. Lying there,
with her trusting blue eyes upturned to my
face, she told me all that Wallace had said to
her; how he had told her that he loved her, oh,
so dearly ! and how he had begged for one word
" And what did you tell him ?" I asked, very
calmly, stroking the soft silky hair which lay in
a golden shower over my lap. ,
'What could I say,, dearest Julia? he is so
noble and good, and he.:loves me so tenderly
What could I say ?" And Annie hid her glow
ing face-in my bosom. I pressed the dear head
CIOser, forI felt that another would soon claim
it-that dier arms, stronger than mine, would
son atalht d...that arm love.
I seldom weep; if I did, I should have wrept
thei. I had bcei an orphan from my earliet
remembrance, dependant on the charity of a
half-sister of my father. Love I had never
known. Those of my own age had ever avoided
me, for they fancied i e,.ld and heartless, and
older people called mue selfish. Is it any won
det', then, that when one so good and beautiful
as Annie Graham had bestowed upon me the
boon I had so long ye:arned vainly for-is itany
wonder that I felta great fury at the thougit
of losing her undivided affection ? But my will
was strung to do right; and holding her there
in my ars, I analyzed my own ifeelings. I saw
clearly'my great unworthiness of her imnocent,
high-souled affection. I saw my own inward
hideousness, my despicable selfishness, and,
with one powerful effort, I cast out all bitter
feelings from my heart. I conquerred all my
sinful jealousy; and, fromi the depths of an
earunest soul, I cried ; "God bless you, Annie,
and make you happy as you deserve i'
Malcolm wrote often to his young finance
letters breathing to the loftiest sentiments, full
of noble thoughts, such as could be generated
only in a heart alive to the truest impulses of
honor. Isensibity I grew to love those letters,
and to look for their coming with pleasurable
anticipation ; for Annie had no secrets from me.,
and every glowing line which Malcoln had
penned wats openi to umy gaze.
Our school days were ahnost over. 1 was to
go home with Annme, to remain until after the
Christmas holidays, and Wallace Malcolm was
to come for us in a few days. Annie looked
forward to his coming with buoyaut spirits; and,
though 1 strove to enter into her feelings, I
could not drive from may heart 'the strange fear
of meeting him which had crep~t in there. I
feared a something without a name.
H~e camne at last. ie met Annie with a sort
of tender joy, and as her friend he greeted me
very kindly. IHe drew us both to a seat on the
sofa, and talked to us in his deep, rich voice ;
but I cannot recolleet a single wvord which fell
from his lips. I listened as one entranced. I
no longer wondered that she loved hinm. 1 wa
no longer surprised at the strange power which
his letters to Annie had exerted over mec.
In person Mr. Malcon wvas strikingly hand
some ; a classically formed head, over which
waved a profession of dark glossy hair; a broad,
white forehead; G recian cast of features, and
remarkably brilliant teeth ; added to a tall, ele.
gantly propotionedl form, a sweet voice and
highly cultivated muind. Was it any wonder
that Annie loved him
But did he love her ! Did ho love her with
that unselfish devotion which beamed from eve
ry feature of her facee? I asked myiself the
questioii, but dare not answer it.
A pleasant journey we had to Annie's beauti
ful home. It was rosy evening wh'en we arrived
at the grand old mansion which bore the name
of the Evergreens, from the number of tall
trees which surrounded it.
We were most cordially received by all. Mr.
Graham was a widower, and his family consis
ted of his two children, Philip and Annie, and
ani unuber of colored servants.
Mr. Malcolm's parents resided on an estate
about ten miles fronm the Evergreens.
Philip Graham was like his sister: the same
clear coumpjlexion amid love-lit eye3, the sanie ex.
pression of~ countenance, only a little miore self
reliait; ant the saiue type of gentleness was
all over hiim. He pressed my hands very kind
ly, and spoke of the joyful times we should
have in the-comuing holidays.
I had beenm at thle evergreens a week, when
1 eeiveod a visible alteration in Malcolm's
mannier towards mae. 'With the deepest' pinm I
saw him leaving Annie tosit by nie; and, when
the good-nights were said, his voice sank to au
more thrilling cadence wvhen he said the little
word to mue.
I discovered that Wallace Malcolm was trans
ferring his affetions from Annie to myself, and
the discovery gave me no pleasure. I had ad
mired him for what I deemed his high sense of
honor; and this very change in his manners
loered hini in my esteem. I could not love
where respect was wanting. Had Mr. Malcolm
rmnained true to Annie, I should have loved
him; but such is thme perversity of woman's
heart that, when I felt that I had won hium froma
her side, I cast him away from me as unwvorthy
my slightest regard.
Mr. Malcolm's attentions became almost odi
ous to me, and I avoided him by every mneans
in my powver. Annie, truthful and unsuspect
ing, noticed not her, idol's growing coldness.
Philip with his keen perception, saw all.I
3 know it by the flashing eye and hightened color,
) by the half suppressed scorn which beamed from
his face, when Malcolm was more attentive to
me than usual.
The path of duty lay clear before me. I ought
to return to.my home; I knew it, I felt it; but
what reason could I assign? I feared arousing
Annie's suspicions; and Ihoped that by coldness
and contempt I could force Malcolm back to his
Christmas came cold and clear. I had prom
ised Annie to remain until after that important
day, but had not specified the time. Duty said
to me, "Go," but inclination said, "Stay."
And Why stay ? That was known only to my
There was a grand celebration of Christmas
eve at the Evergreens. The rooms were dense
ly crowded, and the heat almost overpowered
me. I stepped into a balcony for air. I had
stood for some time gazing out on the spangled
bosom of night, when a step at my side aroused
me. It was Mr. Malcolm.
"This is very beautiful, Miss Denham; do
you not think so ?" he asked, bending his deep,
searching eyes upon my face.
"Very lovely," I replied briefly.
"You leave us, soon after the holidays, I be
" Yes." And I fould have returned to the
company. Malcolm caught my hand.
" Stay a moment, Miss Denham; Julia," he
said, imploringly, "stay a moment. Julia, I
love you, love you as I have never loved. Once
I thought I loved Annie.; but oh, Julia! what
was my .love to her compared with that I bear
to you. She never - understood me; but in
your eyes your soul is shadowed forth.- You
know me better than I knowmyself. Read me,
and say if I do' not speak truly. Oh, Julia,
tell me that you will not cast me utterly away !"
And Malcoln fell on his knees at my feet.
I drew myself up to my full height. My face
burned with indignation as I replied: " Wallace
Mancolm, have you a soul, that you can offer
me a heart peijured at the very altar of its
love? Go miserable being, and pray forgive
ness of her whom you have so basely wronged ;
seek by a lifetimno6f penitence to atone for this
great sin; but trouble me no further, lest I curse
yon." I turned-and swept'proudly from hin.
I-saw no more of Malcolm that night. The
next morning, as Annie and I were sitting in her
tasteful bourdoir, we were startled by a strange
confusion about the .house. Annie was much
alarmed; bngwith my custainry boldiess, I
went to learn the cause;
Good God; what a spectacle met my eyes!
-Theri on the side table iii the long hall- lay
Wallace Malcolm, his tall'form straightened to
th stiff-formality of death.L Philip GrAham
lay Tai tw sofa, white and still, the dark-blood
oozing slowly fromn a. doep wound in his temple.
Philip Graham? ed him with all thestrength
of my wild, lone heart? Judge, then, of my
feelings at sceing ldmn'thus. I tottered to his
side. le saw ine not! Ile opened iot his
eyes, but lie breathed, I saw by the labored
quivering of his broad breast. For even this I
Tihe hall was half full of strange people. Mr.
G rahama leaned againt the wall pale and motion
less. Ireached him and graspel his arm. " For
the love of Heaven, sir," I gasped, " teil me all ?"
Mr..Graham could not control himself sufli
ciently to speak; but, from one of the strange
men who was bathing Philip's pale brow, I
learned the &ad particu'ars.
It seemed that Philip had overhearaI Malcolm's
declaration to ine on Christmas eve, and, fired
at the insult and the wrong done his sister, lie
had imnediately sent a challenge to Malcolim,
which was of course, accepted. At sunrise they
had met on a sandy phin some forty rods froma
the Evergreein;. .1alcoln fell dead, shot through
the breast. while the ball from his pi.stol had
entered Philip's temple. This was all; was it
nit enough'? And I the cause!
I weat to Annie. T told her all. Ier grief
I cannot speak of. It would make a child of
m c; and I try to be-very Calin and composed,
Towards noon, at Annie's request, I went to
Philip. Ihis wound had been dressed ; but I
saw iio hope in the sorrowful-faco of the old
IPhilip was conscious, and begged me to sit
down by his bedside and tell him of Annie.
Wordls caunnot express imy agony, my utter des
pair, as I gazed on his pale features, where I
knew death would soon be at work. My great
love for Philip Graham camne over mec with all
its overwhelming force, and my heart stopmped
it~s pulsations; my brain whirled, I caught a
chair for support, and all things faded from mmy
When 1 awoke to consciousness, they told mue
that I had been very ill; and, as I looked at my
wasted hands, I realized the truth of what they
.Annie, the nurse said, bore her grief better
than we had anticipated, and had gone through
the funer-al ceremonies over Wallace Malcom's
remains with resigned comiposure. Philip still
lingered, though with but little hope of recove
ry. Oh, howv glad I was to hear even this ? I
had so feared that the grave had claimed him.
Annie came to iiue. What a meetinig! We
lay in each other's arams for a long time without
speaking, but Anniie's conmvuhsive sobs told well
le inward agony. She had changed much.
Her face waLs pale andl thin, and her eyes weary
with vigils over the living, and tears for the dead,
In a few dnays, I was able to go into Philips
chamber. He welcomed ine eherlidly, and con,
versed on different subjects with his accustomned
spirit. Night and day I sathyhmis couch, unmind
ful of physician'~s oft-repeated command that I
should rest. Rest! How could 1 rest whlen his
lst momnenits could he made pleasanter by my~
efots? Sometimes, when,, in the long still
watches of thme night, I sat by his side counting
his fluttering pulse and smoothing back the rich
brown hair from his brow, lie would raise his eyes
to mym fihee with such an expression of thankful
ness,' that I would willingly hgare given .half my
existence to sec it there againi.
Annie would not consent to my~ leaving them,
and inideed I ditt not wish to; and I lingered at
the Evergreens until the middle of February.
Philip was filiing. Even Annie's hopeful eye'
saw the gradual but sura approach of thme dread4
destrover. She rctruained fromi speaking to Phil
ip on the subject of hIs death ; but I had spoken
to him freely of' his degarture. He frankly told
inc wha~t I hand lbng suspected-that remorse,
rather thanm disease, was wearing on his life-re
morse at having caused the death ofone noble and
good, though he had beeni tempted, amid yield
ing to his wrong im pulses, had fallen. Philip
spoke calmly, even cheerfully, of going through
the din :,hades of death to the golden portals of
One merning, quite early, while I was sitting
in an easy chair before the fire, striviig to obtain
a little sleep, Philip called. ime. I arose and
went to his bedside. A change had come, over
him-fearful change. I shuddered as I divined
the cause. Must lie ro?-the only one I had ev
er loved with my whole depth of feling.? I al
mst murmured at the will of the great Infinite.
Philip took amy hand in his. "Julia," lie said,
raising his fearfully brilliant eyes to mine, "I
shall never behold another sunrise I Break, the
tiding carefully to Annie, poor, dear little sister.
Had it not been for my rasiness, a broher's
might have strewn her patj'with flowers.- .
before I go, will you not tte-my head to
bosom and sing to me the' hymn beginnin
would not live alway?" . -
I could not refuse hi' I rested his
head on my breast, and mng in a tremi
voice the words he loved.
When I had finished, he issed me teni
and said: "Dear Julia, that I am d
promise me that you will longer neglect
God; that you will think'7aa ys of the glo
meeting we shall have, by-n by, in heav
He lay some time, and I la w b the motic
his lips that he was prayidg 'Ten with ft
arms he drew my head dogn beside"his C
his icy lips kissed me pass' atev and he,
mured: "God bless you, ia!' and sunk
on the pillow.
I hastily summoned the' ily and we s
around Philip Graham's de'hbel. He spot
each one seperately, blessbdland kissed all,
then lay perfeely quiet. 'WTthought him.
inn; but it' so, his petitionj as ended in hot
wo months after Philis death; I retu
home. 4 left Annie-ealm, if not cheerfl.
Graham bore his bereavement with ahris
meekness. The rod wi h.*hich his 'ieas
father had clastised him -shrank 'not 'fi
he rebelled not against the- den laid upon
by his Savior.
Of my own sorrow I-wiliay nothing. I:
never married. Earthlyl is not for me
do not ask it-I am only ',iting for a heave
Annie is married to a y man ; and ]
ten visit her pleasant hom ud play with
little -brown headed boy, hilip.
Every returning Christnik'brings with fei
distinctness the melancho ,events of the
day after Christmas 'of$ch I -have wri
Long as I may live, I shall'iever cease to
member with anguish thi d'y which-made.'i
For the 4d ser.
NOTES BY -
"Me other cares, and oti liner engage,
Cares that b6ecome my:bir nil suit my age:
In various knowledge-to nei t my -youth,
,And conquer prejeudic4 vo c to truth;
]y foreign arts douestic ts to mund,
Enlarge my notions,.aidual iews extend;
The tsefuel Science of tie i'to 1-oc,
W Ahich book ca04 neeer te -iorpedont-9 shoe
Nn* Yoy tember, 28th, 185
The above, Mr. -Eatoi1; answer the que
of the curious, aibt who* T -
genial home i sunty - r
of tire North,'T this -
observations, by the w!,
coluns, use tic:n. T
rally hung over ii..
sciene. anol cherisht -:s !1- -i
tion of go. 'r "ti'y. in t - -
should nuw I.. lirring in o&M,
Labor in the iatih if d",
Glenmed up like a tlitng AI -'t" -
and no contest of will and inclination were list
to. So, many were the fond adicus, as we ling
among old and faithful friends. Hamburg and
ustsa were the first points of tarrying. Of the fo
I will say nothing and but little of the latte:
funnd it as usual, rife with business, and business
It is more like this pie, in its business habits,
any city I have' any knowledge, of. I paid a:
visit to iy Almn Mater (the Ueorgia Medical Col
where I Met muay familiar f'aces, in both pupils
Profssors. Matters in the'healing line, seem t
improvemncts in the interior of the building. For
praise is duo the trustees; though it seems strani
necessity had not occured to them long before it
With its present talented faculty, comfortable
capiou. building, excellent museum, and other
mneutiunablo facilities for thorough instruction
influeneo inust widen still. The class is -not so
as it was last winter, though I learned that it is u
greater than had been anticipated owing to the "
ties."' Now hardl times arc to be drcuaded,
they pinch all; but the effect in keeping numbet.r
of such a profesdion, I am inclined to think is
rable ; there are more now, thant do credit to
good to suffering humanity. Froth Augusta. I cihe
myself and baggage to Wilnington N. C. goin
the South Carolina and Wihnington and Manch
roads. At the depot were several of the Legisil
enroute for Columbia. They were pleasanut comn
ions, andl cheered mue much, for
"1 caen't but say it-is an awkward sight
To see onie's native land receding through
The growing Meadows; it unmans cane quite
Expecmally whens life is rather new."
It was evening when we loft, andt at a future
yu shall hear where morning found
NOTES BY THE WAY.
" I travelled all the irksome night,
ily wnys to me unknown;
I travelled like a bird of flight,
'Onwcard aned all <done."
NEw YonK1)C cembjer
It was a flighty ride indeed, and many things<
bined to nmale it as pleasant as circumstances iv
admit. The most prominent of these. were agrec
"compnions in travel." Gray-eyetd dawn foun<
flying with locomotive speed, from our native .9
One lingering gaze, and heart-felt sigh for thus
hia, were involuntariyetadw wre e
into the turpentine State. Here, instead of ginho
atd cotton fields and bales, were seen biaxed p
turpentine distilleries, and barrels of the raw mats
Aside from these, there wis ntothing unusual,
good fare at'houses of refreshment, and comfori
riding, than which, we get anythting else, on
rods. Four o'clock found us in sight of Wilmzini
a city of some conmmercial interest, with a thri
anti energetic population, as every thing one<
see, by passing hurriedly through, very plainly h
d. (Great has been the improvemuent here ii
years. But a shrill whistle stops all platformi g
and commences a pell-mel1 rush"for the cars, an
we go, on the Wihaington and Weldeen road.
is a pleasant road of a hundred and sixty miles,
would imagine froma the tints it took to pass ov
Soon night and Morpheus fell upon us, and all Iu
without resistance, i'nte " tired nature's sweel
storer, balny sleep.
At Weldon, we were aroused, to change cars,
enjoy a healthy laugh at the yells of an old n
vending coffee, which he vociferounsly declared
the best either North or South. This noise attrn
some custom. Bunt a brief lntervals and we
again in motion Northward via. Petersburgh
Richmond. A cold omnibus ride and burning Il
is about all remembered of the former. Day.
revealed the suburbs of the latter which was
picturesque, on the river with its numerous in
facturing houses and expiokinig macehine shops.
rail road expedition allowed no timec for observi
A glance from omnibus and car windows was al
could do. It certainly is a decently managed
This, with Its hill and dale locality, contribute gi
to its health; peace and prosperity were appa
May these ever rest upon the eapital of the "ol
minion." 'Thi bird'" eye glimpse brought to
her patt heroes. and noble and immortal s:
and 'freedom, and the thrilling incident-, so intimately
ulia, interwoven with the nation's hitory. But of these
your I need say nothing, for "tlieyaro known of all men."
' I -Again a screamn from the iron horse tells us that we
are in motion. Aquia Creek is the next point of
dear change. This morning we were well fed, in "old
Virginny" style. Our side glances here exhibited a
erly, and entirely eut down, and under cultivation. Wheat
ring, Corn and Tobacco, were to be seen in great abun
your dance. About the time the scenery and things to be
.iOus seen by the way, were growing interesting there was
en." quite asensation produced aboar'd the ears at one of the
of way stations. It was as sudden, and unexpected, as
eble such things usually happen. Of its nature and effects
iwn; upon.the passengers, you may hereafter hear from
For the Advertiser.
MR. EDIT0on:-On the 7th inst., I, for the first time,
an set foot upon the soil of the country which has been
n-ay- perpetuated by the productions of Thomson and Long.
Ven. steet, " Major Jones' Courtship " and " Georgia
ned Scenes." I must confess that I experienced sensations
Mi. amopting to superstitions awe, and for the life of me I
tian could'nt help thinking (of the blue.eyed Mary Stallins,
enly who afterwards Iecnine the happy wife of the distin
guished Pineville Major. Once I imagiiied I saw the
officious Raey Sniffle, who, it is said, weighed ninety
itve pounds in hucble-berry time, in the person of a di
I minutive, duck-legged, dapper little fellow, who was
nly. in fact the duplicate of -Raney with the exception of
of- R's invincible disposition to accommodate all to the
her last extremity; a disposition that was totally wanting
in this fellow, for upon kindly enquiring of hin the
rful directions to the iotel, he replied, " I'm no porter,
leXt air." I retorted that I did'nt suppose lie was, but
ten. judging by appearances and the odor he exhaled, he
re might be banuly; upon which he bent a look of in
le a effable contempt upon me and made his way along
I took lodgings in Hamburg at the Carolina Hotel,
kept by the gentlemanly and accommodating proprie
tor, J. Lyoxs, who is well worthy the most liberal
patronage, and I would recommend all who wish good
comfortable lodging and good things to eat, to always
give the " Carolina" a eall, Augusta on the olier
side the river notwithstanding.
In company with my friends, T. A. P-r nnd
John B. 1f-y, I paid a visit to the faimous Ilill,
known all over the State as Shultz's Hill. I saw the
entrenchment lie threw up to storm, as I've been told,
the City of Augusta. Indeed the position is favora
tion V'e enough with a few well directed caunrn t1
posted on almost every tree.
med But the proprietor finally went the way of all the
cred earth, and lacking his assiduous eare, time soon trnris
An- formed beauty into comparative ugliness ; and thcre
-muer remain but few traces of its former splendor and
I magnificence. I would here state for the infortantiono
nen. o( those who may not be aware of the f(ct, that
than Shultz was the founder of Ilamburg, and named I
hort after his native town llamburg. Germany.
eg) The Medical College of the St:tte of ticorgia, ho
and cated in Augusta, commenced its nunal course of
a be Lectures a few weeks ago under the direction of the
this, eflicient Corps of Teachers, viz: Professors GAavIs,
a its Dean, and Prof. Materia Medica; Fonn, Practice;
did. Ev, Obstetrics; MSA1s, Chemistry; ])c:~s, Surge.
nd ry; C.mui.Al:L, Anatomy; M:UM.x, Physiology; nd
un- other assistant teachers; a faculty not surpassed in
, its Medical erudition by uiiy Northern instituti'on. In.
fall deed I cannot refrain from expressing in this phice.
eich my utter astonisliment and wonder at tgen who clain
uard to ibe Southern in princilie, patronizing the icedical
ine schools at ti e North, nnd thereb~y lending their iil.
out indirectly though it may lie, to the psropagation ouf
lasi- the ravings of abolitionismn, a thuing with which amll
t, or Northern School~s are more or 1h.-s tiinctumred. I say I
ked atm astonishied at this, while they tnight enjoy the in
on structions of such schools as the 3Medical College of
ter the State of Gecorgim, and the Medical College of the
tors State of' South Carolina; aind at the samec time have a
c- lear conscience-a thing~ that I cannot conmecive to lbe
in time posesin of' those who aire so blinid to South
ern prosperity as to forsake their own schools and gi
North. MorON AS-rOxY, 31. D., was the founder 01
-the medical College in Augusta. Hie fell a victim to
.im the fatal epidemnic of 183'J. There is a tablet in one
of the Lecture roomis inscribed to his memory.
The mail will soon close, and p~romisinig to write a
mere interesting letter next time, I bid you good bye.
S. S. HAMBURG.
P. S.-I have just read an epistle from a dear fricend
which closes with, " whatever may occur, my fervenit
prayer is for your happiness. Yours atl'eetionately.''
Oh, what consoling language in at (liy of bitter trial.
3. S. S. H.
uktl EXTRACT FROM THlE PRESIDE.NT'S MIESSAlGE
* ''. .LET EI'ERY MlAN READ IT.'
tate. dlow-cIiien of the Senate andc IHouse of' Rep
rged In obedience to thme command of the constitu
*o9 tion, it hasu now become my duty "to give to
ines, Congress information of the state of the Union,
ial. and recommend to their consideration such meas
save res " as 1 judge Eb be "'necessary and expe
able dient." .
'ime But first, and above all, our thmanks are due to
ton, Almighty God for the numerous benefits which
ving He has bestowed upon this people; and our uni
ould ted prayers ought to asccnd to Hinm that He
o-would conttinue to bless our great repubthe i
*-time to come as He has blessed it in thne past.
two Since the adjournment of .the last Congress our
11s, constituenits have enjoyed an unusual degree of
d off health. The earth has yielded her fruits about
This dantly, and has bountifully rewarded the toil ot'
one the husbandmant. Our great staples have coim
it.t. manded high prices, and, up till within a brief
lied, period, our muanufacturimg, mineral, and mechan
recsal occupations have largely partaken of the
r-general prosperity. We have possessed all the
aln ts of material wealth in rich abundance,
and.mandyts notwithstanding all these advantages,
gro, our country, in its monetary interests, is at the
oobe present momient in a deplorable condition. In
ted thesmidst of unsurpasse plenty in all the pro
were ductions of agriculture and in all the elements
and of national wealth, we find our manufactures sus
imps pended, our pablic works retarded, our private
light enterprises of different kinds abandoned. and
te thousands of useful laborers thrown out of em
Iu- ployment and reduced to want. The revenue of
Te- the government, which is chiefly derived from
Ton duties on imports from abroad, has been greatly
to.reduced, whilst the appropriations made b Con
Sone gross at its lest session for the current.fa year
city. are very lar ge in amount.
aty Udr these circumstances a loan may be re
ret unrdbor t~h close of your present session -
I do- but this, althong deeply to be regretted,wol
mind Iprove to be only a slight misfortune when comn
.-af p are withe suffering and distress prevailing
among the people. With this the government
cannot fail deeply to sympathize, though it may
be without the power to extend relief.
It is our duty to inquire what has produced
such unfortunate results, and whether their re
eurrence can be prevented ? In all former re
vulsionsthe blame might have been fairly attri
buted to a variety of co-operating causes; but
not so upon the present occasion. It is appa
rent thit our existing misfortunes have proceed
ed solg)y from our extravagant and vicious sys
tem or paper currency aud bank credits, excit
ing the people to wild speculations and gam
bling in stocks. These revulsions must continue
to recur at successive intervals so long -as the
amount of the paper currency and -bank loans
and discounts of the country shall be left to the
discretion of fourteen hundred irresponsible
banking institutions, which from the very law of
their nature will consult the interest of their
stockholders rather than the public welfare.
The framers of the constitution, when they
gave to Congress the power " to coin money and
to regulate the. value thereof," and prohibited
the States from coining money, emitting bills of
credit, or making anythiiig but gold and silver
coin a tender in payment of debts, supposed
they had protected the people against the evils
of an excessive and irredeemable paper curren
ey. They are not responsible for the existing
anomaly that a government endowed with the
sorereign attribute of coining money and regu
lating the value thereof should have no power
to prevent others from -driving this coin out of
the country and filling up the channels of cir
culation with paper which does not repre
sent gold and silver.
It is one of the highest and most responsible
duties of government to insure to the people a
sound circulating medium, the amount of which
ought to be adapted with the utmost possible
wisdom and skill to the wants of internal trale
and foreign exchanges. If this be' either great
ly above or wreatly below the proper standard,
the marketaYle value of every man's property is
increased or diminished in the same proportion, 1
and injustice to individuals as well as inealcula
ble evils to the community are the consequence.
Unfortunately. under the construction of the
federal constitu'tion, which has noi prevail-d too
long to be changed, this important and delicate
duty has been dissevered from the coining power
and virtnally transferred to inre than fourteen
hundred State banks, acting independently of
each other, and regulating teiir paper ismues
almost exclusively by a regardl to the present
interest of their stockholdcer.. Exercisig the
--eign power of providing a papeor eir-enc.y. 1
- if coin, for the counitry. th. Iir.'t duty 1
se banks owe to thi- - .
a meoin-u And eventual security it is doubtleisj
wise and in all cases ought to be required, that
banks shall hold an amount of Linted States or
State securities eqnal to their notes in circula
tion and pledged for their red1emption. This.
however, furnishes no adequate security aganst
ver-issues. oi the contrary, it may 1)e perver
ted to inflate the currency. Intdeed it is possible
1w this means to convert all the debtus of the
United States and Sitp goverinme:ts int bank
notes. without reference to tlie specie required
to redeem thiem However vluable these secunri
ties may be in themselves, they cannot le con
verted into gold and silver at the intmetn-t uf
essure,as o experience t(03-cs, in sailicient
time to prevent bank suspensions and the dei:r
ciation of bank notes.
In England, which is to a-considerable exteit
paper money country, though vastly biehind
our own in this respect, it was deenmed ndvisable,
;iterior to the act of Parliament in 18 4, which
wisely separated the issue of note.i fron the
banking department. for the iMnk of England
Ilways to keel on hand gold :nd silver equal to
me-tiirdl of its combined circulation :nd depos
~tes. If this proportion was no more than sulti
ietf'to secure the conv-ertibility of its notes,
ith the whole of Great Britain, and to sonme
stent the Continent of Enlp,- ats a hield for
its circulation, rendering it alnost implossible
hat a sudden and immediate run to a dangerous
mount should be made upon it, the samec pro
portion ufould certaintly b~e inmsul licient tuder our
banking system. Each of our fouirteen hundred
atks has' but a limited circummferenmce for its
irculation, and in the course of a very few days
the depositors anid note holders might demand
-om such a bank a sulicient amount in spbecie
o compel to suspend, even alhough it hmad coin
n its vaults equal to one-third of its inmmediate
iabilities. And yet I am not aivare, with the
xception of the banks of Louisiana, that any
State batnk throughout the Union has been re
uired by its charter to keep this or any other
proportion of gold atid silve r comnparedl with the
mount of its combined circulation and depos
es. What: has been the consequence ? In a
recent report made by the Treasury Departmenit
n the coindition of the batnks throughout thme
different States, according to returns dated ntear
est to Jantuary, 1857, the aggregate amiount of
ctual specie in their vaults is $58,3h,838 of
their circulation $214,778,822, anid of their de
Thus it appears that these banks in the aggre
gate have considerably less than onme dollar in
seven of gold and silver, compared with their
circulation and deposites. It was palpalhe,
therefore, that the very first pres.nre must drive
thenm to suspension, and deprive the people of a
convertible currency with all its disastrous con
sequences: It is truly wonderful that they
should have so long continued to preserve their
:redit, when a demannnd for the pueamt of one
seventh of their immediate liabilities would have
driven them into insolvency. And 'this is the
ondition of the banks, notwithstanding that
four hundred millions of gold from California
have flowed in upon us within the last eight
years, and the tide still continues to flow. In
deed such has been the extravagance of bank1
redits that the banks now hold a considerable)
less amount of specie, either in proportion to
their capital or to their circulatiomi and deposites
ombined, than they did before the discovery of
gold in California. Whilst in the year 1848
their specie, in proportion to their capital, was
more than equal to one dollar for four and a
half, in 1857 it does not amount to one dollar
and thirty-three cents of their capital. In the
year 1848 the specie wa~s equal within a very
small fraction to one dollar in five of their cir
culation and deposites; in 1857 it is not equal
to one dollar in seven and a half of their circu
lation and deposites.
From this statement it is ensy'to account for
our financial history for the last forty years. It
has been a history of extravagant expansions in
the business of the country', followed by ruinous
contractions. At successive intervals the best
and most enterprising men have been tempted
to their ruin by excessive bank loans of mere
paper credit, exciting them to extravagant inm
portations of foreign goods, wild speculations,
and ruinous and demoralizing stock gambling.
When the crisis arrves, as arrive it must, the
banks can extend no relief to the people. In a
vain struggle to redeem their liabilities in specie
they are compelled to contract their loans and
their issues; and at last, in the hour of distress,
when their assistance is most -needed, they and
their debtors together sink into insolvency.
It is this paper system of extravagant expan
sion, raising the nominal price of every article
far beyond its real value, when compared with
the cost of similar articles in countries whose
circulation is wisely regulated, which has pre.
vented us from competing in our own markets
with foreign manufactureri, has produced ex
travagant importations, and has counteracted
the effect of the large incidental protection af
forded to our-domestic manufactures by the pre
sent revenue tariff. But' for this the branches
of our manufactures composed of raw materials,
the production of our own country-such as cot
ton, iron, and woollen fabrics-would .not ..only
have acquired-almost exclusive possession of the
home market, but wpuld have creted for them
selves a foreign market throughout the world.
Deplorable, however, as may be- our present
financial condition, we may yet indulge in bright
hopes for the future. No other nation has ever
existed which could have endured such violent
expansions and contractions of paper credits
without lasting injury; yet the buoyancy of
youth, the energies of our population, and the
spirit which never quails before dilliculties, will
enable us soon to recover from our present finan
cial embarrassment, and may even occasion us
speedily to forget the lesson which *they have
In the nicantime it is the duty of the govern
ment, by all proper meais within its power, to
aid in alleviating the suffering of the people-oc
easioned by the suspensio:i of the banks,.and to
provide against a recurrence of the same eli mi
ty. Unfortunately, in either-aspect of the case,
it can do but little. Thanks to the inde endent
treasury, the government has not suspended pay
ment, as it was compelled to do by the failure of
.he banks in 1837. It will continue to discharge
its liabilities to the people ine'gold and silver.
Its disbursements in coin will pass into circula
;ion, and materially assist in restoring a-sound
msrreney. From its high credit, should we be
'1mpelled to make a temporary loan, it can be
4ffected on advantageous terms. This,.however,
ihall, if p:ssible, he avoided ; but. if not, then
he amount shall he limited to the lowest practi
I have, therefore, determined that whilst no
iseful government works already in progress -
dhall be suspended, new works, not already com
noniced, will be postponed, if this enn be done
vitlout injury to the country. Those necessary
or its defence shall proceed as though there had
3een no crisis in our'nionetary affairs.
R-- the federal government ennnnf -r. L
a our currency which atliacted the country.
hroughout the existence of the late bank:, or
tecure us against future suspensions. In 1825
Lit efbrt was made by the Bank of Egland to
uirtail the issues -of the country -banks under
he most favorable circumstances. The' paper
lurrency had been expanded to a ruinous extent,
ind the .ik put furth all its4power to contract
t in utrIer it) reduce prices and restvre the equili
rina of the threignl exchanges. It according
y cminumenced a system of curtailment of its
Loals and issues, iu the vain hope that the joint
neck and private banks of the kingduni would
be Compelted to follow its example. It found,
lmwever, that as it contracted they expanded,
cnd at the end of the process, toeiploy the lan
uMag1e of a very high official authority, " what
-ver reduction of the paper circulation was ef
leeted by the Bank of England (in 1825) wvas
more than made tip by the issues of the country
But a Bank of the United States would not,if
it could, restrain the issues and loans of the
state banks, because its duty as a regulator of
the currency must otien be in direct conflict with
;he immediate interest of its stockholders. If
we expect one agent to restimin or control
ruother, their interests must, at least ini some
.egree, be antagonistic. But the directors of a
Banik of the United States would feel thme same
interest and the same inclination with the diree
ors of the State banks to expand the cuirrency,
;o aiccomimodate their faivorites and friends with
loans, and to declatre large dlividends. Such
ias been our experience in regard to the last
A fer all, we must mainly rely upon the pa
triotismi and wisdom of the States for- the pire
vention and redress of the evil. If they will
rifor~d us a real specie basis for our paper circu
lation by increasing the denomination of bank
notes, first to twenty, and afterwards to fifty dol
lars; if they will require that the baniks shall at
all tiumes keep on hand at least one dollar of gomild
and silver for every three dollars of their circu
lations and deposites; and if they will provide
hb- a self-exceuting enactment, which nothing e-n
arrest, that the moment they suspend they shall
go into liquidation, I believe th-atsuch provisions,
with a weekly publication by each bank of a
statement of its condition, would go far to securo
as against fut ure suspensions of specie payments.
Congress, in my opinion, possesses the power
to pass a uniform bankrupt law applicable to all
banking institutions throughout the United
States, and I strongly recommend its exercise.
rhis would make it the irreversible organic law
af each bank's existence, that a svspension of
ijpecie payments shall produce its civil death.
The instinct of self-preservation would then com
peI it to pcerformn its duties in sne-h a manner as
:o escape the penalty and preserve its life'.
The existence of banks and the cirenlation of
bank paper are so identified with the habiltsof
mr people, that they cannot at this (lay be sud
leuly abolished without much immediate injury
;o the country. If we could confine them to
their appropriate sphere, and prevent thenm from
mdministerinigto the spirit of wild and. reckless
ipeculation by' extravagant loans and issues,
hey might be continuedf with advantage to the
But this I say, after long and mnch reflection:
f experience shall prove it to be impossible to
mjoy the the-ilities which well-regulated banks
night aff'oid, withorit at the same tim~e suffering
he calamities which the excesses of the banks
iave hitherto inflicted upon the country, it woul1,,
hen be! far the lesser evil to deprive themi altos
rether of the power to issue a paper currency
ind confine them to the functions of banks of
leposite and discounts.
"Sam, why am de belobed ob my heart, i~as,
Dinah, de sunflower ob de bill, like a kind ob -
el:th day mnak-e in Lowell?" "I don't know,
nigger-why ?1" " Cos she's an taMeacihed shte
The Indians give each other very significant
names. Lieutenant Hooper, of the Aretic Er
pedition, found a woman at Fort Simpson, whose
name was "Thirty-six Tonue." Tf
" Mr. Jones, you said you:wie4 oz ce
with the fine arts. Do you mean b~ yout
are a scultor ?"-"'No, sirQ donet
self, but'I furnish the stone to the .mai ha