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"WE WILL CLING TO THE PILLARS OF THE TEMPLE OF OUR I~3EETIES, AND IF IT MUST PALL, WE WILL PERISH AMIDST THE RUINS."
SIMKINS, DURISOE & CO., Proprietors. EDCTEFIELD, C., APRIL 20 1859.L
For the Advertiser.
REVITAL OF THE SLAVE TRADE-NO. XIII.
" The war must be carried into Africa."
In 1820 the price of Cotton fell, but the South
had then lost her manufactures, or at least she had
established no now factories, while the North had
diverted all capital from most other pursuits to
that of manufacturing. The North had taken ad
vantage of the high price of cotton and consequent
high price of negroes, during five years, to sell
her negroes to the South and to establish factories
with the proceeds of the sale. But the South, in
stead of having established factories by the time
cotton fell, was then actually in debt for cotton
laborers, bought on a credit a the high prices of
monopoly, created by the closing of the slave
trade. Not only bad the North profited by the
monopoly of the slave market, but she had also
tasted tle sweets of another monopoly-namely,
the monopoly of manufacturing under the high
Tariff of 1816. Therefore, when cotton fell in
1820, the South finding herself without manufac
tures, and actually in debt for negroes at high pri
ces, was desirous of having a low Tariff. But the
North said no; and for the first time the doctrine
of a eectional protective Tariff was announced in
But the high price of cotton for five years after
1815 (with the slave trade closed) not only ruined
our manufactures, destroyed our shipping and,
transferred our commerce to the North, but it also
destroyed the culture of Indigo and Flax, which
formerly gave profitable employment to negro la
bor at the South. We now itaport about S1,000,
000 of Indigo annually, whereas we once exported
large quantities of it. The cotton lands of the
South are capable of producing as much and as
good quality of Indigo as the East Indies, yet we
have surrendered the culture and manufacture of
it to India, the largest Colony of ourhereditary and
implacable enemy who has well nigh an excluaive
monopoly of all the Indigo used in the. commerce
of the world. British India supplies about $20,.
000,000 of Indigo to other States upon her own
terms, and we pay 50 cents a pound for most of
what we consume, in place of exporting it, as we
did formerly. Had the slave trade never been
closed, this humiliating spectacle would never have
been presented to the persecuted South. The long
continued high price of cotton with no increase of
labor from Africa caused it. And 100,00 negroes,
fresh from the jungles of Congo, can now find pro
fitable employment here in the growth of Indigo,
estimating that each one could produce $100
We likewise once grew vast quantities of flax,
and it is not a matter for dispute that all the pres
ent slave States, which do taut produce cotton, are
as well adapted to the growth of flax as Russia,
Holland, Tuscany or England. We each year im
port about $12,000,000 of raw and manufactured
flax. Yes, we import nearly $1,000,000 of even
linseed oil to paint our houses. What caused this
but the diversion of negro labor from flaux cultuore
to cotton culture, when the slave trade was closed
and cotton rose so high in 1815 ? Taking the es.
timate that each negro could produce $100 worth
at least 200,000 Africans are wanted to raise flax
for our home consumption; and it is susceptible of
proof that 200,000 more of them could compete
with the flax-growers of Europe in their own mar.
kets. If our negroes can distance all competition
in eotton culture, why not in flax culture too? If
the slave trade were revived, I make bold to sany
that our non-cotton growing slave states would
have a monopoly of flax culture within a half cen
The South also once manufactured linen cloth
and other flaxen fabrics. But, just as the culture
and manufacture of flax was becoming an impor
tant branch of Southern Industry, the slave trade
was closed and cotton rising so high soon after.
ward~s absorbed all the flax laborers-destroyed
all the flax manufactures. Where now within the
confines of the whole United States is even one
Gax Factory? 7'o far as I know there is net a sin
gle yard of fine linen made from one end of our
country to the other. If the slave trade had nevcr
l:eon closed, in all probability the South would
this day have a monopoly of both the culture and
manufacture of flax, and the cotton market would
have been glutted no sooner in 1820, or at any
time since. The transfer of laborers from the flaz
and indigo fields to the cotton patch proceeded
only on the principle that the high price of cottoan
made one day's labor of the cotton hand worth
perhaps two day's labor of the flus and indigo
grower. But if negroes could bare then and since
been gotten from Africa, the flax and indigo busi
ness would not hare begn destroyed, end the South
would now have had a monopoly of those two pro
ducts as well as of raw cotton.
But she lost them, as she did her manufactures,
and is rapidly losing her hemop culture too. Noth
ing but the fact that tabacco, rice and sugar are
commanding as much profit in their culture, as
cotton does, even at present prices, p~revents the
destruction of those pursuits ; and they will be
destroyed unless the slave trade be revived, or un
less some other country than ours shall paroduce a
large quantity of cotton. One or the otheur rent
is inevitable. Even the sale of those idle vaga
bonds, the Free Negroes, into slavery after the
fashion which Arkansas andi Misasauri are setting
the other Southern States, will not permanently
.ave eur cotton monopoly. The w orld wants more
cotton, and must havs It, upon the principle that
*very demand must be surpplied. Nor will mnan
kind long permit a day's Labor in aur purstert to
pay for two day's labor In another business whi-:h
also employs much capital or mnauy laborers,
The moment a heavy rise occurs in the price of
Mejten our planters invest all the proceeds of tbat
cotton in more negro labor, and they actually go
in debt to get still more of it. They do so partly
through the temptation of~ a long continuued high
price for cotton, and partly through coanpualsiona of
the limuited and rcstricted. supply of slaves. This
excites comi etition among buyers, and then ne
groes rise in proportion to the rise in cotton. The
price of cotton regulates the price of most other
property at the South, because nearly all our capi.
tal is employed in cotton culture and its cun-omui
tants. Therefore, as cottuu lluctutes ini price,
every other kind of Southern property zmust keep
it compauy, in all its changes, and especially cot
ton laborers, since the value of every laborer must
rise or fall with the value of what he produces.
Now, whenever a tremseudous rise takes place in
the price of cotton, and as the numbecr of dIeves ins
this country is limnited by the slave trade being
closed, all other branches of S-outherm industr
must surrender their negroes to the insperious de
mnand of cotteu culture.
As so much capital is amuassedi by cven a small
advance in the price of cotton, ii is plain that
when a great rise takes pla.ce, the ability of the
cotten interest So purchase negroes is such that it
will drive all other compititors out of the slave
market, and that the cotton planters will them
compete with each other, until the price of negre
labor becomes higiher than that of p~oor uihtte labor,
This result is unavoidable as the supply of whit.
labor is illimitable, while that of negro labor is it
much and no more-a fixed quantity, which nc
price of cotton can vary, without a revival of thi
Wheaexe nosso labor becomes more proitable
Eamhie aan~, 5n s 4Dkr 5ch S 1IWBnteAJDn
dustry that can dispense with negroes do so, and
employ cheaper white labor in their stead. The
border slave States have always used negroes
mostly for house servants, and to work in the farm
during seed and herrest time, which are the only
seasons for sovero labor in a grain and stock coun
try. Such labor as those States require can easily
be performed by whites, and hence their dear no
gro labor is always shipped Southward, and cheaper
white labor substitued, whenever a great rise-in
the price of cotton occurs. In this way the white
population of the North is ever pressing South
ward and it holds to every inch it gains, with an
unconquerable determination to get into the genial
clinatre of the South. Population never moves
Northward if left free to act, any more than water
runs up hill. Only think of Missouri having 10
whites for one slave. Kentucky five for one, and
other border States in proportion, with a stream of
abolition constantly caving in the banks of slavery,
so to speak, and now inundating Kansas, whose
Southern boundary is about the same as that of
Virginia, Kentucky and Missouri. That stream of
abolition is likewise invading the Indian Territory
which is in the latitude of South Carolina. It is
also spreading over Northtrn and Weetern Texas,
far Southward of Carolina. It will furthermore
soon penetrate into New-Mexico, since the late
law passed by the legislature of that Territory
to protect slave property, i i I but serve as a lugle
note smmoning the abolition world to arms. Kan
sas adopted a whole volume of slave laws in her
early history, but what purpose did it serve? Neither
statutes, nor Resolutions, nor speeches, can propa
A great rise in the price of cotton acts like the
breaking of a mill-date in a freshet. The demand
for more cotton laborers then becomes so vast and
insatiable that a wave of negroes bus to sweep
Southward to fill the immense void, and the vacui
ty thereby left behind is instantly occupied by a
surge of white labor which forever beats against
the border slave States, and thus it is that those
States are being undermined like a caving break
water. Nor dues the evil stop there. The current
of negroes which moves Southward to the cotton
fields, soon gluts the cotton market which produces
as much injury to the cotton States as a stream
that overflows its banks does to the neighboring
plantations. The cotton planter finds all his money
gone, which he had acquired by the late rise in
cotton, and himself in debt for cotton laborers at
high prices, and the abolition sentiment of the
North stronger thin ever. Ile then toils on for
years to pay the debts he had contracted for cot
ton land and laborers at inflated prices. Hle also
cleerishes the hope of a speedy rise in the price
of cotton, and will nout therefore undertake other
business. In fact. he could not without sacrificiug
his property, if he were to sell it, and farmers are
proverbial for stabilitr in every thing. They are
slow to Cbange from one pursuit to another, and
the skill for undertaking a new business is not ac
quired in a day; .nd hence they continue making
cotton from necessity-from habit-frm hope of
a good time coming.
By and by a good time does come, cotton again
rises by consumption outstripping production, but
instead of selling out ble land and negroes, a cot
ton planter performs the same rouid he did before,
when cotton lest rose. Of course all cotton plan
ters could not sell their property at any time, as
there would be no one to buy if every one wanted
to sell, and it'would be folly to sell as a general
policy. But still if the slave trade were open
when the great rises take placeo in the price of cot
ton, the cotton market would be glutted no rooner
tby the importation of laborers from Africa than
by bringing thiem from Virginia or Marylnnd, or
by absorbing them front other pursuits in the cot
ton States. Hence Rhode Island, Conneticut,
Now York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania, which
were once the border slave States, have abolished
slavery without benefitting tho South oine iota and
thte present border States are succumbing to abo
lition without any resulting good, but with posi
tive evil to the South. Yea abolition has progressed
with rapid strides, while it has at the same time
got all the proceeds of our high priced cotton
usurped our manufactures, robbed us of all the
emigrant artizane-destroyed our flax and indigo
culture-still plunders us on every hand, while It
taunts and Insults urn.'
It is when the South isa seemingly most prosper
ous-when cotton is at its highest price-when
negro labor is more valuable than white labor that
the institution of slavery receives its severest
shocks. Only at four periods of our history has
negro labor been more valuable than white labor
for any considerable length of time. Otne of these
periods has already been enlarged upon--namely
1815-20. In 1825, cotton a aeond time sold on an
average in Charleston during thte entire yetar at
21 eta a pound,.when another avalanche of neg-oes
came Southward, leaving their places to be filled
by white laborers, and another drain was made
upon the purse of the South (the proceeds of oal
her high priced cottott) to develupe atnd sustain
Northurn manufactures. Negroes then sold at$1200
and $l1500 a head, which attracted so uatny of
them to the cotton tields, that the very next crop
glutted the market attd left the planters hand over
head in debt for negroes at monopoly prices. The
cotton crop of 1826-7 was near 400,000t bales more
thtan that of the proceeding year.
The planters then dragged on in the stagnation
of a glutted market until 1835-6-7, when a third
app'arent niillemnim presented itself. Cotton then
sold at 16 and 18 eta, a pound, but the mnney was
all spent for mnore cotton laborers at $1500 and
$lS800 each. Negro labor again rising above the
value~of white labor, caused another %s,,uau of
negroes to the South-dfrnen thither by thie high
price of cotton and presed Southward by whIte
laborers in aciot'datute with the tendlentcy of all
population, whIte, black, or copper dolored to move
toward the tropics. So many negroes quitted the
border States and other pursuits in the cottotn
States to enigage in cotton culture, at the tiute of
this third millenium, that the crop was again in
creased nearly 400,000 bales in one year. Then
cotton fell down, low, lower, lowest, until consutnp.
tion being stimulated by unminal prices, once more
overtook proaduction iu 1850 after the incubus of a
glut had rested upon thbu cotton States for 13
years. But finally itn that year cotton a fourth
time went to 15 eta, when the South aotually ratn
wild after more negroes at monopoly prices, so
that the cottun crop of mi- ereceded that of
the year previous by near even yt00,tttl bales, which
caused the price of it to tutuble down to nothing.
liut it rallied the next year since, which time the
amount of the crop has remained stationary and
the price at a high figure, except during temnpora
ry commercial interruptions, cicarly shtowing that
the profits upon other kinds of slave labor tare
nearly equal those of contton culture at 12 andl 14
eta, a poutnd. Otherwise the cottoni erap would
not have remtained stationary for 7 years.
Htuwever after the tuoetary crnsh of 1 U7 the
wages of white labor fell far below that of negro
labor in the cotton field, and white labor oncee more
drove negro labo~r f rom the grain and stock regions
as well as from other pursuits at the South to the
cotton patch, which together with the exceptionally
good fall for maturing and gatherinag the erop, are
the only solutions which can be given to explaini
the great increase of the cotton crop of 1858-9, if
it parove so large as is anticipated. One thing at
least cannot he doubted, which is that as long~ a
negro labor shall remain higher than whits labor,
either England and France will prodtwe cttou in
*hir dieties. or a steasdy .i a f ..meur~s frc
the border States and from other pursuits in the
cotton States, will take place, until slave labor
shall fall to its normal value, which is below that
of whito labor.
In lieu of the diversified Agricultural, Manufac
turing and Commercial industry we onco had, our
employments at the South are fast narrowing down
to but one-cotton culture; and if we do not revive
the slave trade, it appears recorded in the book of
fate, that, after we shall have destroyed every other
pursuit at the South, for cotton culture, England
and France will destroy that for us. Neither white
laborers here, nor the States abroad will allow us
to charge our own price for cotton. The principle
by which it all will be determined is that there
must be eguah'y of profit upon a day's labor in
every kind of business, requiring only ordinary
skill. That some universal principle of human
action, seeking subsistence and luxuries for each
one with the least labor of his own hands, has
heretofore pulled down the price of cotton labor
whenever it rose too high, and the like will occur
again, probably no sooner than it would if the
slave trade were revived. But how different would
be the result upon the South to glut the cotton
market by re-opening the trade rather than by
drafting negroes from other pursuits or from the
non-cotton growing States. SCIPIO.
The Independent Farmer.
By W. W. FOSDICK.
Let sailors sing the windy deep,
Let soldiers praise their armor,
But in my heart this toast I'll keep,
The Independent Farmer:
When first the rose, in robe of green,
Unfolds its crimst.n lining,
And 'round his cottage porch is seen
The honeysuckle twining,
When banks of bloom their sweetness yield,
To bees that gather honey,
Hle drives his team across the field,
Where skies are soft and sunny.
The blackbird clucks behind his plough,
The quail pipes loud and clearly;
Yon orchard hides behind its bough
The home he loves so dearly ;
The grey, old barn, whose doors enfold
His aunple store in menasure,
More rich than heaps of hoarded gold,
A precious blessed treasure;
But yunder in the porch there stands
. His wife, the lovely charmer,
The sweetest rose on all his lands:
The Independent Farmer.
To him the spring comes dancing gay,
To hium the summer blushes,
The autumn smiles with mellow ruy,
His sleep old winter hushes ;
lie cares not how the world way more,
No doubts or fears confound him;
His little Bock are linked in love,
And household angels 'round him;
le trusts in God, aud loves his wife,
Nor grief nur ill may hart her,
lHe's nature's nobleman in life
The independent Farmer.
The Little Ones.
A row of Iitle faces by the butt,
A row of little hands 50upon the sprend,
A row of Ileo roguish eyes ill eloped,
A row of little naked feet exposcol.
A gentle mother leads them in their i.raiso,
Teaching their feet to trend in heavenly way.,
And takes this lull in childhood's tiny tide,
The little errors of the day to ebide.
No lovelier sight this s'de of heaven is seen,
And angels hover o'er the group serene ;
instead of odor in a een~er swung,
There floats the fragrance of an infant's tongue.
Then, tumnbling headlong into waiting beds,
Ienenth the sheets they hide their timid heads,
Till slumber steals away their idle fenrs,
And like a peeping bud each face appenrs.
All dressed like angels In their gowns of white,
They're wafted to the skies In dreams of night;
And heaven will sparkle in their eyes at morn,
And stolen graces all their ways adorn.
T IIE F EL L OW C LE R KS.
BY IICaBEJFRT LINroN.
"have you decided about taking Light
foot, George ?" asked a gay voice, as someC
e entered the luxurious apartment which
was tenanted by George Blandon.
The apartment was a large one, and crowd
d with the msanifoi appliances of' a bache
lor's den. In one cornier stood a massive
bedstead, fronm which dependeud rich curtainis,
meeting the counterpet which wvas of' the
ame texture. Marble- topped bureaus and
tbles were covered with every kind of per'
umery in gilt and cut-glass bottles. Couches
n easy-chni~s stood about in profusion; a
rich riding-saddle hung in a corner ; gloves
nd fails lay scattered around. It was
eidently a room in which no female hand
had ordering or arranging--for rich as were
the appointmtonts, they were thrown together
in strange confusion.
The younig manhl addressed as George was a
slight yoth1b scarce twenity in amppeanhce.
HIs dark, fair hair hung it long waves over
is neck and almost reached his shoulders,
he face rouned which it clustered would have
been handsome, had it not heen for a certain
air of dis-sipation, which clouded the blue eyes
ad gave a aiinkhlfiand prematurely aged look
to the features.
The other was olden and seenmingly more
self-po~asessed, and with an expression of cenn
ning and craftiness in his black, snake-like
eye, that would have taught one versed in
human nature to avoid the owner, had it not
been for an air of thoughtless gaity which
was well assumed and sustained.
Both were dressed in the height of fashion,
5d( w(ore theLir hiabilitments in an easy, un
.,nerne'd and cureless tmanner, as if ulways
accustomed to such things ; and yet, had one
carel to trace these young men to their real
hotes, they would have found only the conm
ronest anrd plainest style of' living, stich as
b'fits people who barely obtain a subsistence
for the present and perhaps a decent coutpc
tene for old age.
T e father of George Blandon was a me
chanic-mch to his mortification, who how
ever contrived to keep the fact out of sight
as much as possible fromn his associates.
George had etntered, some fivo years before,
as clerk in a large mercantile establishmient
--first as an assistant only, but latterly one
of the chief clerks. II is ready talents and
quick tact had thus raised hitt above older
and better men, who looked upon this super
seding with some bitterness, but whose posi
tion forbade any complaint.
With the facilities thus sown broadcast
efore him, and with his aspiring tastes and
habits, it was no wonder that George Blan
Ion should yield to the temptation of appro
priating large sums to his own tuse-not as
thefts, let us do him the justice to say, but
w ith the vew o rpaying them with his
-t..~.a n.....A XM end =iwer nn
than George Blandon have been wrcded on
the same rock round which he was so care
As one expensive taste after another devel
oped itself, his passion for money increased,
and the luxury of his chambers at the Pavilion
was doubled and giagnified, until it reached
a princely appearance. While his employers
thought that his hor.e was at the pln and
modest residence of his father, he was in
habiting one more gorgeous than the partners
of the firm ever dreamed of possessing..
Charles Renton was his chosen associate.
Similarity of tastes and pursuits bound- them
together. Renton possessed, however,.a pas
sion for play which Blandon did not indulge,
and frequently loaned his friend large' sums
of money, which Blandon was obliged to bor.
row from his employers to repay.
Juliana Blandon, his sister, was a lovely
and interesting girl, brought up in the titmost
simplicity, and lovingher pleasant home with
an attachment that no hope of a grander or
loftier one could abate.- She and her brother
were the only children of Mr. Blandon, who
was an unpretending mechanic who sought
merely to make his family happy, without
the aid of riches.
He had been pleased, as was natural, with
his son's advancement, little divaming that
he was involved in error-George's only pre
tence in leaving the house to take up his
abode in other quarters being that his home
was too far from his busines-.
Trusting wholly to his son's integrit., and
believing that he only roomed with Charles
Renton for convenience at some cheap lidg
ing, lie had never troubled himself to inves
tigate his place of abode. How would his
honest eyes have widened to see the luxuri
ous breakfast-service, the liquor-cases, and all
the appointments of his son's new home!
Such was the state of affairs when Renton
burst gaily into the room, on the morning of
which we have spoken, and asked him about
taking a fine horoe which they had been pre
viously talking of buying, and the price of
which was four hundred dollars.
" Where will you keep him, so that it will
not be found out by the Parkers and Your
father, in case you finish the bargain?" asked
" Lowe will board him for us, I think, and
no questions asked or answered."
"Very good. Now for the money !"
"Well, I have not borrowed but a few
dollars from my quarter's salary, and I hope
you have not."
" Faith, I am all cleaned out of cash for the
next year !*
'- How could you be so imprudent? They
will ask questions, soon, tuat you cannot
lAt them. They grind down a fellow to
a mere pittanice, and then expect him to live
htiestly ilin it. But cune-let u- go and
No, uitarles; whatever you do, you shall
not engage .hidiana'., itfections. Soter than
that, I would expose your whole style of liv
ing to her, and ask Ler if she thougiit you
could sup-ort it from your small income
" And why may I not visit her, if she likes
me ?" .0 --
" Because my father is bent on her marry
ing a young inn.iter whu oince boarded in
our lamily, and lie loves his daughter too
well to trust her with you."1
"Ilush, Georgel Ibis is coming with an
ill gi-ae from you, who have drawn me into
.o tuany scrapes."
" Well, peruaps you are right; but do not
ak no to take you houie with me."
-As you like. I do not violate thelaws ol
ho.spitality " it h y/ou."
I know it, Cha-lei. I would almost think
better of you, if you di refi-e to admit mne
to the lreetice of your beautiful sister."
" Weil, well, we will talk atiout the horse.
Goodrich does not want to sell him, but he is
shorL of tunds. IHe is such a splendid animal,
tat it, seemns too bad not to get bim at such
That night, the horse was bought with
money bur rowed from the saufes of their etu
pla.yers, anid lput out to board at Lowe's sta
bb-, with an mijuniction not to tell who thbe
animal belonged to; and that night, Charles
Rentoni visited Juliana .Blandn,in her broth
er's abs-nce, and won he-r ;ffectiens to) him
self-Mr. Blandon and his wife easily con
senting, because he was their son's chosen
friend, and, of course, a lit Liver for the
George bit his lip in agony, when he heard
of this sacrifice, and couhi only trust that
something might prvn it at last.
0 s * * * *
It was six years after this, that the Blan
dons were assenibledl, one evening, in their
homely liittle dwelling in the out.,kir-ts of the.
tiourhihing town of alonson. Father, inut hier
anid daughter were all the-re, and only the
son and brother was wanting'. Everiything
in the room where they Nit be-tukemed econo
my and pbrudhence, wvhile all was scriupoilously
iieat and clean. Mi-s. Bilanon rand Juiliana
werei braidinig straw. Mr. Uilandon, piast his
hard lahor---not fromn age, lbnt from suirrow
and ill healh--was splitting the miate-rial as
fast as they re-quired~ it. The face of each
wore ar sail but patient look, as if gnief had
long been tugging at the heart-strings arnd
would soon br-eak them down al together.
Fow were the spoken words, but each
knew well of what the others were t hinking.
They were dwelling upon the roeemrances
of the past-.of the uncertaiuty of the rate of
the beloved son and brother--of the miany
canges through which ho aight le called to
pass, If judgedl he wer-e yet a dlweller on1
Nothing had been beard of him since the
tIu in wh-ich a forgery hadI been comimitted
on the P'arkers, sIx years before; aind Charles
Renton had disappeared at the same time.
Nothing but tenderness was ini ars.
Blandoni's heart towards her son. " lie was
so yioung !" she sal'l, whben her huisbarid sepike
angry words. "Itemnemibei-, dear husband,
the child was so young !"
"Old enough nut to) break all our hearta
for the sake of living better than his parenta
did," was the uncoimpromis;rng answer of the
sternly honest and upright father.
" Think as well as you can, dear father, of
them both," said a soft and plaintive voice,
as Juliana looked up from her straw, with
eyes blindedI by tears.
" My poor child !" said the pitying father.
" This is doubly hard upon you, and it makes
mec feel doubly hard towards those who have
made all this sorrow."
"And yet, father, should George return,
penitent and sorrowful, would you be less a
lthier than lie who, in ancienrt timnes, fell
upon the neck of the son who wans surLdy as
guilty as y-ours has been T'
Mr. ]landion wiped away the tears that
were now falling faat liver his wo'rk.
" Do not let us talk oif this, miy daughter.
We miust bide God's tine. If be ,.ends my
prodigal back to be, changed anid repentant,
who knows that he may not senid a soltenied
feeling to nmy heart also ?"
" I will trust to thee, then, my dear father,"
said the gir-l, smiling thr-ough her tears.
At mridnighit, thre father lay dIreamning of
his son. Sweet t konights like, those which
he lhad often indulged in the boty's chilhood
-for Mr. lUlandon, although a poor imn, was
not destitute of cultivated and even strongly
poetical fancies-came over Iris sleeping hours.
Again the child was in his arms, a bright,
laughing, golden-haired boy, and he was
clasping him to his bosom with all a father's
sn..m~ 9arpewin, lprp for his first-born
hope. His dream was rudely broken, and
he felt the clasping arms of his child dissolve
and fall away from abont his neck.
" Wake, husband, wake !" said the voice of
his wife ; and with a strong effort, be raised
himself in bed and looked wildly around the
dim chamber, lighted only by the feeble light
of the night-lamp. " I heard a knock on the
outside door. Do see who it is. Something
tells me it is George, or that some news of
him is at hand. Open the winlow, and
Trembling still from the excitement of his
dream, Mr. Blandon went slowly to the win
dow, and throwing it up, asked who was
" Father !"
The m->on shone brightly, and there, be
neath its beaus, stood a figure which, without
the voice, Mr. Blandon would at once have
recognized as his son. Not worn and squalid
and broken down, as the father pictured him
to his own mind, but strong and erect, and
with the bearing of a man who comes home
with the assurance of being received and wel
" Father !" again sounded on the still night
air; and hastily throwing on some clothes,
and calling Juliana from her slumbers, the
parents descended to the door.
George entered, anl clasped them alter
nately in his arms. ie had just arrived in
the cars, and his anxiety would not permit
hun to sleep until he had seen them all. Ile
told then of his miserable flight, after the
crime of which he had been guilty-of the
anguish of mind which lie had undergone, in
con-sequence of his wanderingi amidst cold
and hunger and privations to the distant West,
to which be had walked nearly the whole
way-of his labor, hard and uitiremitted, by
which he had been able to purchase a niall
portion of the rich soil, and had increased his
possessions, until now he was free of the
world, and could count broad acres of hi.s own.
He told them, too, that whin far away,
with Nature fur his only witness, he had
looked back to the miserable life for which
he had bartered his innocence. and had found
how poor and mean it looked to himia at that
distance of time and place. le told them,
too, that.he had made ample reparation t::
every one whom he had injured, before he
would enjoy a single fruit of his industry
that lie had sworn the Parkers to secrecy,
preferring that even his parents should not
know of his existence, until lie could appear
before them honorably discharged from the
consequences of his early errors.
A question trembled long on Juliana's lips,
but she could not bring herself to utter it.
Her brother saw her emotion, but before he
could speak, his father anticipated the ques
Where is poor Charles Renton ?'
'- Mr. Blndon had grown muddenly mil
and forgiving towards all sinful, erring ones.
" le is here, waiting only to know how I
am received, and how w, I I c.mn j.kwl or
his pardon with my sister."
" Let him come," said the old man. " To
night let us not hear nalice against any hu
man being. By the joy of tli. meeting time.
let us receive to our bie.trta all who aie truly
repentant. Let him conac to our home. and
our hearts again."
A bright Itok overspread tI e fawe of Juli.
ana-such as had nut been seen there for the
last six years; and when Ueorge went (ot
and returned with Charles Reitton, . he wel
coned himin with tears nid butbe-for it we
not the slight, showy, rileminate youtt.hm, wiho
left her inl such misery, hut a strongr, hardy.
yet gentle looking nimn, whause had hands
showed that lie bad laborcd to bring hhnself
.31to the paths of respectability and virtue
All her early affection for him revived at
o cc; nor did the father forbid her to bestow
it on one W o e youthful gilt, thl igh miser a
ble to remneniber, was evidently blotted ou: bj
tie higher resolve of his manitd.
As comnpanied by the whole family, Ch..rles
went, on time next day, to thme touwn ii here
his~ father resided, anid a similar scene took
place when thtey arrived. Mr. Riiton wa% a
g'ntle, forgii ing man. IHe took his son am
once to his heart, forgetting that he head ever
do e wrong, mi the great atid unspeakable
joy of seeinug him otnce more.
" And now," said George, "how soon will
you all he ready to go homne with us to the
West 1 We have suicient for all. Nio moe e
braiding straw, at your age, dearest mnot bier
-no more cad tears for you, my si-ter-bhut
all shi be happy andi peacel for you.
You will niot fhid me, father, ini suich a ltuxu
rius r'oim as that in which I parted froii
voni on that la-t imierable night, when I wams
obliged to flee iroum jumstice-it yon will findl
comfort amtI plenty ior your dedcinng years,
and a son whose whole life will he too, short
to miake up to youu what you heave sniferd.
" We will go !" re.'ponded every voice in
the gronp ; ad before a mo~nth hadl gone by,
the travellers were on their way, rejoieing in
the goodness of that Power which mnake%
crooked pathls straighmt, aiid turneth the hearts
of men from continuaing in evil.
In the pleasanit, ckleiring of a western forest,
stande four log houses elnstered together biy
the side of a sparkling river. ifroadl leod',
cultivated to perlfeiti, and yieldIing a tiuuin
sand tosld, are spread~ before the ej e ; while
beyond, mnagnificenit fore.,ts, depth after depth,
invite tue wanderer to penetrate their re
cesses. Ihere dwell the fura families, secur~e
in each other's affeetk~n, and enjoying all
that life can give, with the exception of thle
onte remembrance of youthful error, from
whichi, perhaps, no life is wholly and' smndre
iTo theIr chldren they relate the tale as .a
warnihig again~st lttlptatltin; and tbe little
ones itetiin wonder atidh amagcemnent thtt
fathers no goal and perfect as thehrs coultd
ever have been h-d astroy,.
To B-:sinass Man.-Eery business mani
amid mncebeh mie, whao has a proaper apprecia
ton of luhe Iinte ihode df dloinig busines<, ought
to have i mepressled aipom his imemnory athe fatet
that noi main shoeuuld be delicate about askinig
flur what is properly his due. If~ he neagleets
dinm. so, he is defidiant in the spirit of inde
pendeiace which he should observe in all his
act on. Iifhts are rights and if not granted,
should lhe <imanded. 'The selfish wvorldl is
little inclined to give him his own, tutalss he
have the manliness to claim it. Th~e h.ck of
pro'aper fulhilmaent of this principle las lost to
many, fortuine, flame and. reputatmuin. Occasionl
lv a eustonmer, who is loss a ..entlemean thanean
uipitart, puts on hanghty airs ad affnets to be
insilied t teing dumnnead for money' that lie
ongmht to have paid long hselbre. No nmatter.
The laborar is worthy of his hire. We know
it is .unpleasuant to be dlinned, iad esiuality
unpleslanitt to dann ot~her people: nevertuelesst
ci rc~un:stanices somuet imeIs reiiire thuat we:
sub, it to both; hut we wiv be sorry to) get
"wrathy'-' at a ima because lie asked us for
his own, arnd think a niman very small piotiatoes,
who~will fly itn a puassion when we demsad a
small bill.-Athens Herald.
L:." A llasm" An-ra er.-Adam Slona
ker, a numher of years ago, came to Ilimit
tingdoum Furnace, anid seeiing tiere, for the
first timte, a pair of snmifferet, he asked,
" What's them fur T'
" To snuff t he candle.''
"To sntf the caundle ?"
T1hme candle jns.t then neededl attention, and
Adam, with his thumb and finiger pinchedt off
the snuff, and carefully poked it into the
" Well, naW3 themi is handy."
A Chapter of W~it and Humor.
"And laugbter holding both his sides."
f Tu DEAcoN AND TE Cnrn.-In
the olden tines, when it was the custom in
New England to sing the psahns and hymns
by " deaconing" them as it was called-that
is, by the deacon's reading each line previous
to its being sung-one of these church digni
taries, after looking at his book some time,
and making several attempts to spell the
words, apologised for the difficulty he ex
perienced in reading, by observing,
My eyes, indeed, are very blinl."
The choir, who had been impatiently wai
ting for a whole line, thinking this to be the
first of a comnon-inetre hymn, immediately
sang it. The good deacon exclaimed with
" t cannot see -at all."
This, of course, they also sung, when the as- I
tonished pillar of the church cried out,
" I really b'lieve you are betwiched !"
Response by the choir: " I really b'lieve you
are bewitched." The deacon added,
-The wischief's in you all."
The choir finished the verse by echoing the
last line, and the deacon sat down in despair.
7 TInRE is every reason to believe
that old Deacon Dash will take care that
there are no outsiders round the next time
The Sabbath evening meeting at the Ieth
odist Church is a faonis resort for the youngz
peopa)l eit, incliding the girls. The church don't
always take them all in, and some of the boys
have to stay under the window outside. I
0oeacon IDash is an excellent iiian ip his I
lie is a inoney-lender and "land- I
shark," and has au excellent lheul:y in get- t
ting "all-fired big rates." Well, the old r
man was down for a prayer the other night. t
The brethren were putting in the tallest. I
kindIs of .1a nmens, and the old1 man11 getting P
on a powerf"i. unction, wheti, lifting up his
Yoice like western thunder, he roared :
Oh, Lord, give us greater iterest in v
" A young rascal outside,under the prompt- e
ings of the indmont, in reply, sung out at j
the top of his voice,
" Hold on, old man, you're in for five per d
cent. a uoiitb oonth on here, don't cry out for
anything waor..e up tMere!"
The deacon diwat ride any higher on that
kt Orr. system of education f-vors pre
conyJV, a< 4 e .,pennen, wihich fuIlw will
illio ta te' :
A .Mlew. little fellow w'-o had just begun d
to I-ad Latin. a.-tom.he-d his master by the
fn jolw g t aaion : 1ir, a nan, Gin, a
rap) ; bl'irln, a man-irap.
Te-cher (to fob Smithers.)~ Spell ad
Btob. A-1-init, admit, tance, tance, admit
T. acher. Good ! Give the definition.
Bob. T wenty-fire cents-nigg, rs and chil. s
dren half price-front, seats fur ladies--no b
SW"? WH EN bad men want to fight, the
cha ces are that they will arrange inattrs
ml as to grat if) their lelligerei.t incliunations,
The creed of the Quakers is peace, but two
1;.aLulul broad-brins coitrived to fight uJoU
scriptural atiuhrity, in this wise:
Tney grasped oie anotter; one threw anid
sat oin t L back uf the other, and mlietging
hi., head in the oiatil, .ald
4 0) thy belly lihalt thou criawl, and du.-t
shalt thou eat all the days f uy li e.'
T,1e other, howfever. s.oon rucovering his
position, be.-guia to deal blows against his op.
piImet's head, %ayi
"lt is wr-it ren. the seed of the woman shall
bruiae thbe aerpeid's head."
3-" I-r is not, however, assinust the
Qakars' practice to fight with the weapons
ei wir and .uircasm, as a certain lawyer who
shalil be n.Inneles. d:..cuavered one day, to wit :
A cunning lawyer meeting witfh a shzewd
ol fienid oa a white horse, determained to
-Good molrning, daddy ! Pray, what makes
your hairne ;ook so pade in thle fSee ?"
--A my de-ar friend,' repiled the old I
mni, ''I i thee hoad looked thbroughi a halhert
,o long, tihec would flok pale too."
?T' A Fona siTerI Ma.-A inan, en
dowed with an e-xtr-aordlinary capacity of for
gui lulness, was triedl a short timeC ago, at
Pari. for vag~abondagei. He gae hi(nam
as Ah'nnste Lessive, and bl-ieve'd lhe was born
at l$.,nrges. As lie had fargotiten his age,I
the r-gistry of births in that e~uiy, fr-om 1812
to led2, wa-s consulted, hut only one per-son
of the inme of Les,.ive fial been born there -
durig taat timie and that wa< a gir-l.
-A ynn.,e your namue is Lessive ?"
"Well, I thought it was, but miaybe it
"Ar-e you confdent you were born in
"Well, I allers supposed I was, but I
shouhiln't wonder, if it wvere somewhere else'."
. " Wnere does your family live, at present7?"
" I don't knmow ; P've forgotten.")
" Can you r-eueinlber ever having aeen your
father anid tumthur ?"
"1l esgi'L rocoallect to sye oig'self; somer~
t~t'ic I tiik .I have1 andt theti tigini I hoic
"WbL!Vlh~t it 0 u fallow 1"
" Well, Pim cilbe.- a tatloz' ur a cooper, @*'j
for the life of me I etni't tell which ; at auy
i-ate, I'm either onul ..u' the other.
g A g'entlemanm hAn!%f thait it litefatlifti
pre-teiade- wit h C 'a plentiful lac.k of w'it," had
b~en seia d with brain fev..er, dlryly observed,11
" . the thing is impo~assi ble !" " Why imo-a
po-sib'e ?" asked his inforimant. " Becaus-e,"I
was the reply, " ther-e's no foundation for the
fever or the report."
Mi Tna SELECTION OF A WiFL.-Sam i
Slhck, ii his late ".say~ ings," gives bomne ad
vice abont the selection of a wife. Says he :
l )aon't marri-y too paoori a gal, for they are
apt to thinik there is no end to their lifs-i
band's pass5; nor too rich a gal, fhr they aiet
apt to remobuil you oft it onipleasanit somnetimiesa ; I
inar too giddy a gad, for- they neglect their
linnieis ; nor too femnre a one0, for they are
moi-st nylt to give yout the dodge, race oil; and
le-ave you; iior too weak niindedl a one, for
chlddren take all their talents from their
Eg A celebratedl physician said to Lord
Eldlon's brot her, Sir William Scot t, rather
mor~e flippantly than became the gravity of
his profession, -'You know, after forty, a man
is always e-ithier a lbud or a phy-sician." The
bar-oniet archly replied, in an insinuating voice,
"P'erhaps lie iny lbe both, doctor."-Lord
B hroughamu's Statesmnen. . .
g4 WoMFSts AS Pa:NTRs.-During the
search instituted by an editor of the Newark
(lland)'1Times for female compositors, it is
reported that the following short dialogue
took place: Brister-" Mr. Hlenpec, have you
;nt any Aswhiers who would make poad
type setters T" Henpec--- No; but I've gof
a wife who would make a good devil!"
Z~f EXPnRI:thTs show that an electrical
shock sufficiently powerful to kill an ox,
may be discharged from a straw.
Yes, and tumblers of " thunder and light
ning," sufficient to kill a man, may be im
bibed through a straw.-Evening Post.
SMA," said a promising youth of
some four or five years, "if all people are
inade of dust, ain't niggers made of coal
"LE ' On, she was a jewel of a wife,"
;aid Pat, mourning over the loss of his better
ialf; "she always struck ine with the soft
md of the mop."
E THE mnn who travels a thou.andl
niles in a-thou-and hours, mayl be tolerably
luick-footed ; lut he isn't a touch to the
roman who keeps up with the fashions.
ZC Avoit quotations unles you are
rell atudied in their import, and feel
heir pertinence. My friend - the other
lay, while looking at the skeleton or an usq,
rhich had been dug out of a sand-pit, and
dmiring and wondering at tihe structure of
hat despi-el animal, made i very mwd-adroit
sO of one. " A h !" said he, w it h the deepe-t
imimmility, and a simplicity wirthy of AL
ntaiiie, " we are fearhilly and wonderfully
$'" TOTAL DEmt.ver.-The following
lorrible tale is from the St. Lomis D)em<:rat.
Lead and shudder: "At Ma* er's boarding
ouse, on the East side of Second street, be
ween Popular and Almond, an unusual mer
y wedding came off on Tuesdy night, and
he dance was prolonged till past one in the
orning. The bridge and groom then re
aired to their apartment, bu --qrrisis s!
-the bed and bedding had been sacrilegious
r stolea from the nuptial b.lstead! Some
indictive wretch had gained 1elonious ingress
t the rear, and effected a robbery unparallel
d in the history or matrimony. It is con
?ctured that so fell a vengeance could only
ave been devised and executecf by some
isappointed lover of the bride.
"Lirea there a man with soul so dead,
Who.i never to hinelf hath said,
The sentap who stole that bridal bed
Deserves to live and die unwed, -
With m.idUe 011 to punch his head !"
- A aux was waked in the night and
)li that lik wife was dead. Ile turned over,
rew the coverlet closer, pulled down hi6
ight cap, and muttered, as I.e went to sleep
pini: " Au ! how grieved I shall be in the
T HE TH REE HOMES.
BY A. 11. HORTON.
Chapter Ist.--The Earth.
Tread softly, softly as a zephyr breeze, for
lie is dying. Stanat not so near her bed,
uit let the cool ir from out yon window fan
er levered brow. See, she breathes again,
he Hips his name-" Willie, Willie, Will
h ! she's dead !
Te stars of night have just faded from the
ky, and now the fair morning of a new day
ilawning, dawning ptmn a dead mother and
new born child. The soul of the last, direct
r-ioi the Creator, being separate I trom its
ri-inal whole, haA ju.t assumed the fleshy
enements of earth, while the soul of the first,
ted by death from the gross allurements of
fe, ho-s winged its fight to the bowers of
Happy mother ! unhappy child ! the union
ai heaven is attractive, the union on earth
eulsive. Tue dark, deep and muddy waters
f Lfe hloW alaong no golden shores, nor over
rytal rocks, reflecting back bright views
ud fairy acene.; but they surge with giant
irce through the rough anid uneven wmndinga
Ia dismal swvamup. where all ja da ath, di-ease
,nd decay. The only bow of promise that
pans heaven's broad vault, tinging the web
'f life's existenc-e here and thlere with threads
f hope, is the future the last and best humes
But igrese. The faint wailings of the
ew born child, of the little boy Willie, grow
ach minute more and more di.,tnct. With
im the great " battle of line" ha~sjust com-.
iuenced ; harsh andt unfeeling a< he finds it
ow, the present is an elysiuml to what will
ucced. So long as he remains upon the
-reat stage of earth, either as an actor or as
lntener, naught will lie see but misery,
rretchedlness and woe. In the great battle
f which we speak campj-fires are not pleas
t, nior is bivouincing delightful. Streamas
f vice, raging with the winds of selhish~ne-t,
ae to be croased ; torrents of crime, rushimg
rogh the destroying gullies of society,
bstruct the course ; and: then, beyond these,
tlthe armny to be nmet ; what need I, what
an I say of this, its soldiers anid its nmen ?
nerelL is hypocrisy, without a whitened sep
lchre, and within all is dead imeni's boneS;
itre is deceit clothed in the garments of a
male Etir, but tru-t her nut, her friends are
vet- lost ; anld there, just lie-ide the laat,
onpicu'.ns with her baniner flyinig, onl which,
you se-an cluely, may be seen the great
I Am, stands Self-Loive, a dreadful and a
ir-ful enemy. I ktnow thle response of many
ih be, these enemies are easily overcome,
d then what eidouyment awitis the. aues
I will not snwer ; itt thce teks stvtard,
rI upont tile rock' shitre rm'piy Iet ttis
hIFLus.i1M, kid, itbote all, slid ttlore thii all
Lt thb~b! :d~staled 1Id ofithie battle of lifb
cho with a fterhtil no, that the vidtomrg iu milt
(ten o: I':uion, rioting w ith a fiend-liki
leantiful. Ilate, scowling and reven;,eful,
aves her wand, andl enmity usurps the
eign in hearts onice true. V'iilence, hidecous
form, as well as mien, has crowds of foil
wers, who, at her nod, or beck, enatscenes
'f brutality which would cause any but de
non-s incar-nate to blushI with shame.
A h! Willie, this world is heartless ; it
robs anmd beats, 'tid true, but its pulsations
-amie f-rm no fountain, breathing life, activi
y, energy or love. And, Willie, you will
iid this world lonesome, dreary as a desert,
r you live and wvor.-hip the ided, the god
ie true and beautiful ; othieru ise, if you
ie, and fall into the ranks of vic, governed
1 i paion, hate and vitI--nee, the debanc'ie
ies into which you ill he engnlphedl will
tng that conscience, which camne pure from
he Creattor, woarse thani the adder's bite.
Barth, art thou tihe same for wvhomi the stars
ung in joy at thy birth ? Art thou that one
hich he, who hioldeth in the hollow of his
ands the heavens and all that therein is,
ironounced well amid good? When man fell
ho lost thy goodness, too ; whben hmn Was
nrsed, the curse upon thee was the deepest
id the heaviest of the two; and what was
ne a paradise is now a barren, scoichied
lam; and thes garden whlich once blossomed
ike the rose is now overgrown with weeds,
ith thistles and with thorns.
Chapter 2nd.--uThe Grave and Heaven.
Years have passed-three-score and ten-.
md we agaijn are in a darkened chamber! !
Reold for the last tune our " Willie," nowl
ap.s. hi dytin bed. His childhood,hi
I youth, his manhood, his olt age; nay WA
very life is almost gone. His clustering locks
have all been exchanged for "hair all streak
ed with grey ;" his soft, velvety cheeks,
which once were worthy of a mothers prido,
have long ago lost their beauty-their bloom.
His brow has became furrowed with care,
disappointment and sorrow, and soon, it will
be stamped with death!
Fainter and fainter does he breathe; fainter
and fainter grow the throbbing of his heart ;
fAinter and fainter are'the pulsations of life.
Even yet his lips move, and his attendant,
standing close by, catch the words, " I'm go
ing home, I'm going home 1 Earth to me h14
been wearisome, tiresome, dreary, and I
Suddenly the great clock, standing In the
corner, breaks the midnight stIllness, and tells
us the hour of twelve has come. Ere the
air ceases to vibrate with the harsh sound,
the spirit of the dying man is wafted through
the diaphanous realms of light to the paradi
Aical imati' n (if unending felicity, in tI.o
celestial abo o above. Star peals from star,
its silent music, and the Lelfry of Heaven re
sounds with thediapasonsof its choral hymnu.
Angelic beings chant the return of the
wandering spirit, and symphony upon sym
phony swells, and thrills the thronging host,
until, under the- realization of their own
heavenly beatification, they prostrate them
selvei, and then the commingled orisons of
ten thousand spirits redeemed greet the
great and mighty God, the archetypal and
omniscient being of all.
Cherubim and seraphim, with a melodious
nem surpaving the "harmunious music of
the gliding and revolving apheres," continu
ally give utterance to thle anthem, " Holy,
.llIr, Holy Lord God of Sabbaoth V" filling
the atrehets of the New Jerusalem with their
songs of spiritual sweetness, and with the
praise of a soul redeemed, re-bought, perfect
ed and saved.
The spirit of him whom we looked upon
at his birth and at his death has overcome
the miseries and the woes of earth, the ter.
ror and darkness of the grave, and finally
ha gained the glories of a Heaven.
Dear reader, may your destiny, and my
destiny, and the destiny of all- of us be like
that of him whose life we have been tracing
on this page. May gentle voices from the
pirit land silently whisper of the better way.
May zephyrs steal from Heaven to breathe
way the mist that gathers on the soul in Its
earth-wanderings. And when the vesper
bell shall toll for us a requiem at night-fall,
and the fetters that have bound us to earth
shall be brushed away by the light wing of
the death-angel, and our knock shall be heard
pon the great gate that swings outward into
ternity, inay Heaven's dim ainles echo to
the j. y ul song-" A weary spirit has gene
Senator Hammond on Direct Trade.
The Macon ((!a.,) Sade Press publishes the
.llowinr letter, addressed by Senator IHam
mnnd to Rowell Cobb, of Houston, in re
sponse to an invitation to attend the next
Wtton Planters' Convention, at Macon:
RED CJIFFZ, March -9, 1859.
Dear Sir:-L am obhaged to you for your
invitation to attend your meeting at Macon,
and if my health and engigements will per
it, I will attend, but not to make a speech;
that is out of my line.
I entirely sympathize with your movement.
[regard Direct Tradeas absolutely necessary
to the independence of the South; without
it. she will ever be prohiccaL, though she
may omntinue to furnih, as she now does,
more of the material of commerce, than any
uther population of the same numbers ever
did; and materials that constitute the most
vital currents of commercial circulai.n, con
trolling. In fact, almost the whole.
Our drawbacks have been, not the superior
energy or intellect of any other people, but
Dur shallow bars, yellow fever, and want of
mercantile cap tal. Time, I- think, will show
that vessels of 1000 tons are as profitable as
rger ones, to carry on trade, and these can
ten our p -rts. The yellow fever can be
wholly evaded by confining our business sea
qon to the eight months of the year during
which we are exempt. These eight months
being those in whbich we can, and in fact do,
arry nearly all our products to market, they
are naturally our business months, and those
best adapted to business and climate such a
It is because we submit to the convenience
of others, that we allow it to be necessary
that there should be a,.y tranlsactionsl from
t-e intenior, or ire in abroad, durin, the four
poible, yellow fever months. The grand
iflculty a as to capital; our means are, for
the iost part, in fact almost entirely, em
ployed in settling fresh lands, subduing the
orets, and furnishing the materials to clothe
and feed the world ; in these we find full em
ployment for all our mheans and all our ener
gy. But this will not always be so, and if
te owners of the comparatively idle millions,
in other parts, do not soon seek the rich har
vest they may reap here, our own surplusage
will enable us to occupy that field also.
Nothing, I think, is wanting to our South
ern counti-y but time, provided we have ca
pacity to appreciate, be.'ore it is too late, our
uaparalleled resources, and the energy to
develop them. I think we have. I have every
contidencee in our future, let mere polities take
what course and produce what results they
may. Southern industry, at this moment the
most prosperous of any on the globe, rests
also on the securest basis, aud it only requires
that it abanld rise to a full appreciation and
seserton of Itself, to beenine free, insa ittle
time, of all thiose provinclal clog. which sow
conftbP that I have been devoted to othe
Ihtters too titteh to ha~e lsattoi presiBsef
the ay in wlili ytlhr Avonlatlion propoew
tom eflet t b gI-bt diJj and alt, therefore,
jnabIb td Jaidge i.s Li Its prtibtbie resultas;
iiit that tlier' IA Ii fry3 Lnd that stccess i
li e, I do not doubt:
Very reepcctfully, yotti tibedieht servant;
IIowKrLL Coas, Esq.
gg-It is perfectly well understood, or it
nt, it should be, that almost any hutsband
would leap into the sea or rush into a horning
edifice to rescue a perishng wife. But to
anticipate the eonvenience or happiness of a
wie in some small matter, the neglect of whielt
would lie unobserved, is a more elorstent
proof of ederness. This shows ? mindful
fondness which wants oedasions in which to
express itself. And the stmaller the occasion
seizeh, the inore inteusely affectionate is the
Tiua WAY Tusr Srurrts rr Is DErAwaaE.
-The Georgetown, Del., Messenger says
last week the wife of a man in Dgborough
Hundred, Del., left her husband, and with a
ing man took up her residence in Milaboro.
'he husband madelos appearanc~e one day,
and the two men proceeeded from the house
and sat down upon a log and calmly talked
the matter over, regarding it in all its bear
ings . The result was, that the young man
who was in 'osession of the trife agreed to
give the lawiul but injured and forsaken hus
band, the sum of seven dollars and a dog for
his wife. Thus was the diflicult and danger
ois business compromised to the full satis
faction of all pfarties concerned, and the for
mer husband, having abandoned all- right,
title, and-elaim in favor of the lover W&da
his departure immediately.-Iichzeni Dlii